The Lost Tower: The Sorcerer's Apprentice by Chatmandu
Summary: A tower is symbolic of intellectual isolation and metaphysical innocence. 11 year old Ginny Weasley is not aware of either meaning as she finds herself at the heart of a struggle for the Wizarding world’s very soul.
Rating: PG-13
Categories: Alternate Universe
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2008.03.03
Updated: 2009.05.14
Index
Chapter 1: When all else fails
Chapter 2: Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition
Chapter 3: The one with the power...
Chapter 4: There is no "I" in Team
Chapter 5: The beginnings of all things are small
Chapter 6: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
Chapter 7: A Riddle wrapped in a mystery
Chapter 8: Mind over Magic
Chapter 9: Necessary Things Part 1
Chapter 10: Necessary Things Part 2
Chapter 1: When all else fails
Author's Notes: Thanks to the omnipresent Sovran for the beta help. Also a thank you to the omnipotent Moshpit who had the original idea for this story and did much with the general plot. Good thing I am the most handsome otherwise my ego might get bruised.
Albus Dumbledore sat in the ornate centre chair at the Hogwarts staff table surveying his students as they filed into the Great Hall. He was wearing one of his more festive robes, bright gold stars and brilliant silver moons resplendent against a rose background. Despite the merry nature of these robes, he was barely able to keep a grim expression off his face. It was not often he found himself at a loss for an answer, but these past two years had been the most trying times in a decade, and he was at a loss to understand why.
The previous year Voldemort himself had made an attempt to regenerate from whatever state in which he now existed. That the vile man would possess one of his own professors and was here at Hogwarts, unknown, for an entire school year was extremely disturbing to Albus. Fortunately, Voldemort had not been able to regain a corporeal form. Unfortunately, as with anything involving that wretched excuse for a person, the cost of victory had been exceedingly high. This time Voldemort’s defeat claimed the lives of a promising young teacher and Dumbledore’s oldest friends, the Flamels. How their passing would affect his efforts to rejuvenate magical education, only time would tell. It had survived the death of Lily Potter and the incapacitation of Alice Longbottom, so he supposed it would survive this, too. Once again he felt a familiar pang of grief; he sorely missed the quiet counsel of his mentors and the exuberant optimism of his protégées.
Since Halloween a series of mocking messages left on the castle’s walls indicated that the Chamber of Secrets - the oft rumoured, never found Chamber - once again was open and unleashing its horror upon innocents. It had been opened only once before that Albus knew of. That was fifty years ago, when a student had been killed and Hogwarts nearly closed for the first time in its thousand-year history. Since October three students, an animal, and a ghost had been Petrified. What possible magic was so Dark it could harm the dead? Who had opened the cursed Chamber and left taunting messages with each attack? These were questions he had been unable to answer.
After the discovery of poor Quirinus’ possession and death, the Hogwarts Board of Governors, goaded by Lucius Malfoy, had taken an increasingly invasive attitude toward the running of the school. The Malfoy family were prominent members of the Pure-blood Faction regarding Wizarding education. That alone should have raised alarms within and without the Ministry. But Wizards remained a remarkably incurious folk, willing to believe anything so long as it didn’t harm their own interests. The Malfoy family, and their moneyed pure-blood ilk, were masters at keeping the appearance of status quo while making radical changes from which only they benefited. Albus did grimace as he pondered the sheep so willing to let the wolves be their guardians.
Two days ago another attack by the so-called Heir of Slytherin had left a third student Petrified. Now, in addition to the Board of Governors, the Ministry, parents, and the press were clamouring for action against whatever was attacking and Petrifying students who were not pure-blood. They were demanding that something, anything, be done or that he should resign and a new Headmaster be brought in to solve the problem. To his everlasting chagrin, he was unable to resolve this crisis in the school he was so personally associated with. Albus also knew that unless this monster was stopped and the so called Heir discovered and punished it was only a matter of time before students started to die.
That was why Albus Dumbledore now sat in the Great Hall early on a Thursday afternoon when, in his opinion, the castle should have been busy with students bustling about or in classes. Instead he watched sombrely as those students nervously filed into the Great Hall. The latest attack and the Board’s demands had forced him to take this drastic measure. The day’s classes had been cancelled and the students called to their respective houses for a roll call after breakfast. This cleared the hallways for a careful and unobstructed search but did nothing to calm students’ fears.
Minerva McGonagall followed the last students in, sealed the doors to the Great Hall, and moved toward the Head Table. When she reached Albus, she leaned near his ear and whispered softly. "These are all the students that are not Petrified in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey has joined us for the afternoon. With her aid, we have checked every student for Polyjuice and have verified no one is missing." Albus nodded as she took her seat next to him. Despite the residual headache from his argument with her last night, he was extremely grateful for the presence of the stern witch who was such a capable Deputy Headmistress.
Deciding it was time to explain the purpose for this emergency assembly, he rose to his feet. "Students! Your attention please," he called out. The random whisperings and nervous fidgeting of bodies quickly ceased, and he waited for the silence to become complete. Each house table was completely bare; no plates, cutlery, books, parchments, or quills. The staff table was similarly free of objects.
"Given the latest round of attacks and our difficulties in tracking their source, I have reluctantly called in Dark Magic Specialists to help us search the castle." Albus paused here and cast a quick wandless spell which caused the door to the anteroom behind the staff table to fly open dramatically. Twelve Aurors walked out of the room and into the Great Hall, stationing themselves three to each of the walls. The nervous students watched the Aurors fan out across the Hall and began to murmur anew amongst themselves. Several were trying to look into the anteroom. The door remained open, but the interior of the room was hidden in gloom and shadows.
Minerva gave Albus a very sharp look. He closed his eyes and winced momentarily at the memory of the previous night’s argument over introducing the ‘Specialists’ to the school at large.
“Albus, are you really sure this is necessary? Is this wise?” she asked him and Alastor Moody point blank.
“Minerva, I am at wit’s end,” Albus snapped in frustration. “We are no closer to finding this Chamber than we were fifty years ago. We must do something to end this reign of terror. You had already left Hogwarts when the Chamber was last opened. The fear among the students and faculty was quite real. I am as frantic now as Headmaster Dippet was then, and I’ve been no more successful in solving this crisis. I am deeply worried that another death, or deaths, might occur. It was Tom Riddle, oddly, who found the evidence to blame Hagrid for the monster’s presence in the castle. I never believed him, but the attacks did stop after Hagrid’s expulsion.”
“I’m surprised there isn’t greater pressure on you to get rid of Hagrid once and for all,” Alastor interjected.
“There is considerable pressure from both the Ministry and the Board of Governors. I have been able to hold them off so far, but another attack and they might permanently take our groundskeeper.” In a bitter tone he added, “Lucius would be particularly pleased to have Hagrid in Azkaban for life.”
Minerva shot him a look that would have struck fear in a phoenix. “Albus, you wouldn’t dare let them take that man. You know he is innocent of any charges mouthed by that popinjay Malfoy.”
Alastor grunted his agreement with Minerva. “But this brings us no closer to ending these attacks,” he continued in a gravelly voice. “Albus, you have to do something, even if it might appear overly drastic. Hagrid isn’t the only one they might consider removing.”
“What are you getting at?” Minerva asked slowly.
“He means, Minerva, that if they are successful in taking Hagrid I am certain to be the next to leave. That cannot happen.” Albus looked at his two friends and sighed. “I must bring them in…”
“Are you completely addled?” shouted Minerva. “You want to use them to help you with this? Are you really willing to take the risk of our students being exposed to them? Things are bad enough now, but…” she trailed off with an apparent lack for words.
Alastor got a far-away look and mused, “Have you considered a series of Sentry Spells? If anything is in the corridors without permission we would know immediately. Constant vigilance at times like this never hurts.”
Minerva hissed like an angry cat. “I will not condone spying upon students who are completely innocent…”
“Are you positive they are innocent, Minerva?” Alastor interrupted.
She said nothing more but sat and glared at the old Auror. Albus sighed again and rubbed his temples. He knew this argument was not accomplishing anything.
“Alastor, there are too few of us to monitor each spell, let alone enough to cast Sentry spells that cover the entire castle.” Minerva sniffed quietly at this. “But I must end this reign of terror. As long as we keep the students and the rest of the staff together we significantly reduce the chance of exposure to the Dark Magic Specialists.”
Minerva stood quietly. “You-Know—” Albus gave her a sharp look and she paused only briefly. “Voldemort managed to penetrate the castle last year by possessing poor Quirinus. If Voldemort had realised what was really here, he would have completely ignored the Stone. We cannot risk this,” she said emphatically. “Albus, there is too much at stake!”
Albus pinned her with a stare and said pointedly, “Without the school, there is absolutely no protection. That is a greater danger than what I risk now. I must stop this; I must rid Hogwarts of this Dark Magic.”
“But has this become dire enough that you must go to them? Surely you don’t need… them.”
“Oh please, Minerva. Who else might Albus call on to do this? Are you suggesting your illustrious Defence Against the Dark Arts Master, Gilderoy Lockhart? Why don’t we ask if he can bring the whole Dark Force Defence League to help him?” Alastor said sarcastically. Albus scowled at Alastor while Minerva stood there nonplussed for a second. Then the two men began to chuckle while the corners of the corners of Minerva’s usually stoic mouth rose slightly.
As the moment passed, Minerva started to plead her case again. “Poor jokes and worse Professors aside, isn’t there something else you can do? Honestly, you’re Albus Dumbledore!”
“Minerva, you are perhaps the last person I expected to fall for that trap,” he chided sharply. “I am only human. I do, unfortunately, make mistakes. I cannot solve everything on my own. It is imperative that Hogwarts remains safe and open. So when all else fails…” He held his hands at his sides, palms up.
Despite Minerva’s grave misgivings, they had reluctantly agreed that this course of action was the best of a bad set of options. Every possible precaution against an unsupervised exposure to the Specialists was taken. The largest step had been sequestering the students and school staff to allow the Specialist team to move freely, hence his ordered restrictions to the house common rooms in the morning and the Great Hall gathering this afternoon.
Watching the students anxiously looking at the Aurors, Albus did his best to wear a comforting smile. "Before the castle at large is searched, I want you to know you are safe in this room. I ask each of you to place your bag under your seat and your wand on the table in front of you. I ask the staff to do this as well." Placing his own wand on the table in front of him, Albus gestured to the Aurors and continued, "These Aurors are here to ensure nothing untoward happens while we all have our wands out of our hands."
He waited while the students slowly complied, but he looked sharply up and down the staff table as most of his professors clearly lingered at placing their wands out of immediate reach. His famous eye-twinkle was nonexistent as he gestured impatiently with one hand for them to hurry up and place their wands on the table. Minerva had placed her wand on the table at the same time as he had; she sat and watched him with an odd mixture of disapproval and concern.
After everyone, including his recalcitrant staff, had complied with his instructions, he walked over to the open doorway of the shadowy anteroom. Turning back to face the students, Albus felt all of his age bearing upon him for the risk he was about to take. One mistake, one slip of a tongue or cloak, and all he sought to accomplish would be imperilled. He hoped that in the end, Minerva would not be proven right.
With an uncharacteristically melancholy voice he addressed the students. "I have asked a team of Dark Magic Specialists to assist in our search for the Chamber and its monster. The Specialists will now walk among you. If you are asked anything, please answer the question fully. I require that everyone else maintain silence during this time." Dumbledore swept his arm out in a gesture of invitation. Despite his admonition for silence, a great gasp arose as four figures slowly entered the Great Hall.
The lead figure was rather short, possibly less than five feet tall; a black hooded cloak, with the hood drawn fully over the face, rendered any recognition impossible. The shape under the cloak was sufficiently ambiguous that no outside observer could recognise that the figure was human, much less whether it was male or female. The black gloves and simple boots further hid all identifiable marks. The figure did not carry a wand.
Immediately behind and to either side of the leader were two more figures who wore similar black hooded cloaks, gloves, and boots. Both were substantially taller than the lead figure; the one on the right appeared to be solidly built, over six feet in height, and it carried a small box. The one on the left was slighter and somewhat shorter. It carried rolls of parchment and quills with a small hard board like a lapdesk. Like the leader, neither of these two openly carried a wand.
The last figure to appear was an Auror that many people raised in a Wizarding household knew on sight and all knew by reputation. He was obviously getting on in years, but his magical eye that turned in seemingly random directions, his wooden leg, and his disfiguring collection of scars marked him as none other than the retired Master Auror ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody. Moody did carry a wand and was obviously ready to use it without hesitation.
The quartet stood in the doorway to the Great Hall until the Leader made a short ‘follow-me’ gesture and started walking toward the staff table. The students began to murmur softly and tried to look around each other to catch a glimpse of the three strange figures. Regardless of their contortions, they were unable to see into the deep shadows provided by the cloaks. It almost seemed that the cloaks were magically impenetrable masks over the faces of the trio. As the group paused on the end of the staff table by Rubeus Hagrid, Albus returned to his seat and waited patiently. His infamous eye-twinkle, although subdued, was back as he watched the quartet prepare to examine his staff.
The Specialists slowly walked down the staff table, and then the Leader stopped directly in front of the school’s Potions professor, Severus Snape. The Leader raised its left arm and, with a black-gloved and overly long index finger, pointed in silent accusation at Snape's left arm. Moody immediately trained his wand on the man.
Albus and Minerva shared a look with the old Auror. This development was entirely expected, but all three knew it would once again cause problems that Dumbledore must smooth over later. The cloaked figure with the roll of parchment stepped closer and seemed to peer at Severus.
"Name?" it asked quietly.
Snape turned and glared at Albus. “What is the meaning of this, Headmaster?” he asked in a loud growl.
“Answer the question, Professor. I do not wish to have these Specialists here any longer than necessary,” Albus replied curtly.
Snape appeared taken aback at his Headmaster’s tone of voice, and the Hall went dead silent. Turning back to the trio, he stared intently into the Scribe’s shadowed hood and frowned. "Professor Snape, Potions Master," he replied with a sneer.
There was no apparent reaction to his sneer from the cloaked trio. Moody merely smiled and pushed his wand forward slightly, pointing it at the centre of Snape’s chest.
The tall Specialist reached into its box, pulled out a card, and showed it to the Scribe. It looked at the card briefly, made a notation to one of the scrolls it carried, and nodded to the Tall One. The tall Specialist promptly handed the card to Professor Snape, and the Scribe said, “You're number ten.” Both Albus and Minerva blanched as it said this.
The Scribe told Professor Snape to hold on to the card until he was asked to return it. The Leader also whispered a few comments to the Scribe, who apparently jotted them down while nodding.
The Specialists resumed walking down the staff table slowly, and Dumbledore was confident that nothing else would happen. He paled again when the Leader stopped and pointed at the neck of the second to last professor at the table.
"Name?" the Scribe quietly asked.
"Professor Sprout, Herbology Master," she replied hesitantly.
The Tall One handed her a card while the Scribe said, "You're number eleven."
Once again a whispered conversation was transcribed before the Specialists finished walking the length of the staff table. Dumbledore was shocked to realise that somehow Professor Sprout was using Dark Magic. What little twinkle that had returned to his eyes vanished quickly. He suddenly feared that this would be a long afternoon, without even considering all the risks that it entailed.
The Leader spent a considerable amount of time regarding the school nurse, although nothing was pointed out. It muttered something to the Scribe, which shook its head. They whispered a bit longer and then moved on.
The Specialist team headed towards the students and slowly walked down the far side of the Slytherin house table. Halfway down the long table they stopped, behind one of the younger years, the Leader pointing at the student’s book bag and robe.
"Name?" the Scribe asked once again.
With a haughty expression, a platinum blond boy replied, "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He looked at the three Specialists, expecting them to be impressed. His smug smile slipped as there was no response, and Moody seemed completely unimpressed as he pointed his wand at the boy.
"My father is a Governor of this School. He will hear of you holding your wand on me!" Draco continued with a sneer.
Moody clearly found the outburst amusing. "I'll look forward to chatting with him again, little boy."
The Malfoy child stood quickly, his flushed face contorting in anger, and opened his mouth to reply. A cough from the Scribe caused Malfoy to look back just in time to have the Tall One hand him a card. “You’re number twelve,” the Scribe told him.
The Slytherin boy was clearly surprised to be summarily dismissed. It took a shove from Moody to put him back in his seat, mouth gaping.
Dumbledore no longer feared that this was going to be a quite depressing afternoon, he knew it. There was clearly more Dark Magic at Hogwarts than he had been aware of. He looked at McGonagall and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging grin, trying to convey that progress was being made. At her return glare he merely sighed, silently contemplating just how many students might be called out.
After whispered conversation about the Malfoy boy, the Specialists resumed their walk. They had barely taken several steps when the Leader pointed at a young girl.
“What?” she exclaimed in a slightly impatient tone.
The Scribe ignored her outburst and calmly asked, “Name?”
“I’m Pansy Parkinson,” she called out as if shocked that not everyone knew who she was. “You can’t treat me like I’m some sort of criminal! And don’t point that wand at me,” she lectured Moody.
Moody snorted in disgust. The Tall One handed Parkinson a card as the Scribe said, “You’re number thirteen.”
Two more Slytherin students, Higgs and Flint, were pointed out and handed cards. There were no further repeats of the Malfoy and Parkinson histrionics, suggesting that the students were learning that it made no difference. Albus glanced over at Snape, the Slytherin Head of House, whose jaw was clenched tight. The professor was staring at the castle wall about five feet above the entrance to the Great Hall. Albus removed his glasses for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was having a difficult time maintaining his bland smile. In his days as a student, Slytherin House had been admired for its work ethic and cunning in getting all assignments, even detentions, completed early and beyond expectations. In the spirit of challenge, not animosity, Slytherins had taken every opportunity to tweak any Ravenclaw’s nose as much as possible. “After all,” the Slytherins of his day used to taunt, “What use are brains without ambition?” When had they gone so Dark? Albus silently fretted.
The Specialists and Moody toured the Ravenclaw table next. By the time they were through, one of that House’s prefects had been assigned a card. Filius Flitwick, Ravenclaw Head of House, appeared visibly devastated by this.
Their walk down the Hufflepuff table exposed two more students with Dark, or at least questionable, objects. The Leader and Scribe had a prolonged, whispered conversation about a boy next to the sixth year girl holding card eighteen. In the end they did not hand him a card.
Albus heard Minerva’s gasp as the Specialists stopped before a group of students at the Gryffindor table. The Leader pointed at twin red-haired boys. It began to move away but stopped and seemed to ponder a girl sitting across the table from the twins. Again there was a quick conversation between the Leader and the Scribe, whereupon the bushy-haired girl was handed card twenty-one. The Leader ignored a gangly red-headed boy but stopped before a very pale and petite red-haired girl, obviously a sister to the other boys in this group. It pointed at her, too, and then began a prolonged discussion with the Scribe, apparently concerning this girl. The Scribe consulted several other parchments as it answered the Leader’s questions. Eventually the Scribe took card twenty-two, handed it to the girl, and made a note on its parchment.
As the Specialists identified each successive person, Albus’ forced smile grew ever harder to maintain. By the time this last Gryffindor girl was handed a card, Albus knew he was actively frowning but was unable to stop himself.
After one final glance through the Great Hall, the Specialists returned to the anteroom. Moody soon came back into the Great Hall with a second squad of Aurors. Several of the new arrivals joined the Aurors on the Hall’s perimeter, and then all of those Aurors left through the Hall’s main doors before closing and sealing them. One of the remaining Aurors approached each Witch or Wizard given a number, collected their wands, and remained standing at rest behind them.
After a considerable effort to re-school his features into a bland smile, Albus rose and announced that the Aurors and Specialists were conducting a sweep of the school itself. At this, the stunned silence of the Hall erupted into a babel of voices. A number of Slytherin students nervously denounced having their possessions violated and unsuccessfully attempted to get the attention of their Head of House. The upper-form Hufflepuff girl smiled weakly as the boy next to her asked why she had been singled out. The Ravenclaw prefect replied to questions with a curt “I don’t know” and stoically ignored the piercing glare from Professor Flitwick.
Albus chose to ignore the byplay between his Heads of House and their students. He did notice Minerva garner the attention of the red-headed twins, who merely smiled sheepishly in return. Their smiles were replaced by alarm as they glanced significantly down the table toward their young sister. She remained unusually pale and appeared to be on the edge of panic. The twins, along with their skinny brother, gave Minerva a pleading look, but she only pursed her lips and shook her head as she gave Albus a sidelong look that mirrored their concern.
Surrounding these mini-dramas, the other students obviously attempted to figure out what had just happened. Some looked towards the now-closed anteroom door. Many looked at the Aurors guarding their school-mates or the Hall itself. For the most part they merely wished to discuss this strange turn of events with their friends. They fell quiet as Albus rose again and called for their attention.
“I kindly ask that everyone who was handed a card,” and he looked pointedly at Professors Snape and Sprout, “collect your belongings and proceed to the anteroom, where you will receive further instructions. Everyone else, remain here until I have received word that the school-wide search is complete. Please feel free to relax and talk in safety here. I do understand how tiring being still and quiet is for those your age.”
With this he smiled, held his arms out to his sides, and brought his hands together with an exaggerated clap. Instantly the tables were filled with platters of sandwiches, flagons of pumpkin juice, pudding plates, utensils, goblets, and napkins.
“Do tuck in,” Albus beamed. “I find a meal a most satisfactory way to pass the time.” He resumed his seat and watched as the thirteen carded people were taken into the anteroom by their Auror escorts. Once in the room, Albus knew they would be relieved of their possessions, which were to be separated and placed neatly along one wall. Several Aurors stood guard over those possessions. Two more guards had been ordered to block the doors, solely to prevent anyone from leaving.
*******
Severus Snape sneered at the Aurors, irritated by the Headmaster’s refusal to warn him of what this day would bring. The man had been far too secretive of late, and it was making problems for how Severus carried out his life. He and Sprout were each shown to a desk at opposite ends of the room. After a moment’s confusion, the students sat in desks opposite the wall lined with their possessions. The desks were placed so that each person was isolated from all of the others. A tall, dark-skinned Auror entered the room and was handed the collected wands. Severus remembered him as a Gryffindor underclassman from his own school days here, and he glowered at the man as the Auror surveyed the occupants silently.
Severus began to rise from his desk but stopped as several Aurors tensed and reached for their wands. Settling back into his seat and properly rearranging his specially-crafted robes, the professor peered at the tall Auror. He knew he had to take control of this situation, and quickly. He did not want his four students witnessing him being humiliated in any way. The repercussions from that were painful to contemplate.
With a commanding and slightly condescending tone, Severus told the Auror, “I demand to speak to the Headmaster. I am a Master at this school and will not be treated as a common criminal or a child. This is an outrage! Who do you think you are that you can order us about? I will report your actions to the Board of Governors and your superiors at the Ministry.”
The Slytherin students began to smirk. Professor Sprout grimaced, clearly not agreeing with his attitude, but Severus cared not at all for her opinion.
“I am Auror Shacklebolt. You may use my name in any protest you wish to file,” the Auror replied politely in a smooth, deep voice. “Understand that this search was planned by the Headmaster, Minister Fudge and Madam Bones. They had the search approved by the Provost of the Board of Governors himself.”
The Malfoy boy’s face flushed with anger at this statement, but it was nothing compared to the rage Severus felt inside. He had been deliberately set back in front of his own students and knew that would cause severe problems within his House later. What was Dumbledore playing at, to humiliate him this way? Unfortunately the damage to his reputation among those in his House could not be undone. His best course of action now was to hold his scowl and silently plot ways to mitigate the damage and foil the coming attempts to further weaken his influence.
“Your attention everyone,” the Auror continued. Severus saw everyone else in the room look to the Auror, except the pathetic Weasley girl. She kept her head down while wringing her hands in her lap.
Auror Shacklebolt remained polite, but his firm voice brooked no further interruptions. “Until you are questioned and released you are to remain in this room. While waiting here you are to sit quietly and not communicate with each other. Those not following these simple rules will face additional isolation. Food and drink will be provided. At each desk you will find a selection of books and periodicals to pass the time.”
The Auror paused as several of the students looked down at their desks to find reading materials aplenty. Severus flicked through the piles rapidly, his disdain for the paltry selection fuelling his anger the situation. “Hogwarts, a History;” “Quidditch through the Ages;” an unfamiliar text book entitled “The Theory of Magic”; “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them”; plus several editions of Witch Weekly and that day’s editions of the Daily Prophet and Quibbler. Surely the Headmaster with his cruel sense of humour was behind such a limited set of choices.
“You will continue to wait here until the school search has been completed. The more Dark objects found, the longer your wait, obviously.” He stared at Severus briefly before he did the same for Sprout and the four Slytherin students. “After the search is over you will be recalled to the Great Hall, one at a time, for questioning.”
With that the Auror gave his wand a twist and a flick; as he stepped out of the anteroom, food and drink appeared at each desk. Severus privately raged, ready to kill. Perhaps, he thought, it was wise that their wands had been removed from them after all.
*******
Albus felt tired as he surveyed the Great Hall, knowing the Aurors would have those called out well in hand by now. After food was served to the students, the professors also began to eat, albeit at a much slower pace. Students would occasionally glance up at the two empty professors’ seats and the various empty places along the house tables. For the most part they were distracted by the meal, eating and trading rumours. The remaining professors at the staff table seemed to ignore the empty chairs and also ate and talked quietly.
As soon as he saw Kingsley return from the antechamber, Albus motioned for the tall Auror to join him at the staff table. When the Auror got to the table, Albus made a circular motion with his wand, encompassing himself, Minerva on his left, and Kingsley and Filius on his right within the arc.
Looking at the others near him Albus said, “We will have a modicum of privacy now, but keep your voices quiet. Are things quiet in there, Kingsley?”
The Auror handed him the wands collected from the detainees and grimaced for a moment. “That man is every bit as unpleasant as when he began teaching here. But he cannot bully himself through the Ministry or the law.”
Minerva gave Albus an indecipherable look, and the table settled into an awkward silence.
Kingsley broke the silence, asking, “Do you know how long this will take? Scrimgeour was not pleased to have nearly the complete Auror corps away on what he thinks is a wild goose chase.”
“Let me take care of Rufus if he makes this difficult for you. It was my request, after all. Besides, you saw the number of people in the room, including two professors,” Albus said, knowing he had lost the battle to avoid looking like he had swallowed something infinitely sour. “I am very disturbed by the number of Dark Magic items and traces found today. Perhaps I have become too familiar with the currents of magic here. The Specialists started Severus off with a card numbered ten, which is troubling. They made a general sweep of the castle and ground this morning, but I have yet to discuss their results with them.”
The diminutive Charms professor looked over at Dumbledore. “Is that why you cancelled classes today and had the students confined to their house common rooms?”
Minerva answered solicitously. “We’re sorry, Filius, but we wanted to make sure there was no warning or suspicion before the search. We are also trying to limit the chance of exposure to the Specialists. It is in no one’s best interests to be allowed near those types.” She shot Albus another scathing glance.
“If there is nothing further,” Kingsley said, dismissing himself from the table, “I will return to my post.”
Albus shook his head. “No, go ahead and return to your station. You are doing a good job, especially with a… difficult situation. I will make sure Rufus and Amelia know of your actions here today.” As Albus removed the privacy spell, Kingsley nodded his thanks and walked back to the anteroom door.
Nearly two hours passed before the sound of the Great Hall doors opening caused the students to go very quiet and the professors and Aurors to reach for their wands. An audible sigh of relief was heard as Moody, the mysterious trio of Specialists, and a number of Aurors filed into the Hall. Moody caught Albus’ eye as he moved toward the staff table. The Aurors with him joined their comrades on the Hall’s periphery, their faces suggesting nothing. Moody escorted the Specialists to a bench along the wall behind the staff table and stumped over to Albus’ side. Hoping the retired Auror was going to brief him about the results of the search, Albus quickly renewed his privacy spell, this time excluding all but himself and Moody.
“I don’t know whether to be appalled it took so long to sweep the common rooms or pleased you were barely gone two hours by my watch,” Albus offered warily.
“When I was here as a student, it was a badge of honour to see how many forbidden items we could hide in the Slytherin common room and our dorms,” Moody replied, and Albus was disquieted to see the disgust on the man’s face. “However, we never would have left them about where our Head of House could find them through even the most cursory of inspections.”
“What are you implying, Alastor?”
“I imply nothing, Albus. We found far more than merely school-banned items in the Slytherin rooms. Many of the things we found are illegal in England, some are illegal period, and several have no purpose whatsoever except Dark Magic. I don’t know what Snape considers proper decorum in his house, but some of these,” and Alastor pointed to a list of items on a parchment, “would warrant an immediate sentence to Azkaban!”
“Perhaps Professor Snape was unaware -”
“Unaware my arse, Albus,” Moody interrupted impatiently. “There was no attempt to conceal these items, none at all. Either Snape never inspects his House, or he isn’t very particular about what is legal, or even what is Dark. Additionally, his quarters and classroom were very borderline, as though he dared the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to question him. I don’t know that he’d get away with some of this.”
“Now Alastor, Severus is a Potions Master. He can legally buy, own, make, or use anything that is not expressly Dark. Did you find anything like that in his rooms?”
“No. But with his background, and there is something odd about his Mark -”
“I trust Severus -”
“Yes, Albus, so you have said many a time. But I am not you, and I don’t trust him. Do you intend on keeping the rest of the students here to spy on our little confab?”
Albus looked out over the Hall and noticed a great amount of interest is his conversation. The fact that there was a privacy spell around him just made more grist for the rumour mill. Removing the spell, he stood, smiling upon his charges.
“As you are no doubt discussing, the Aurors have completed their search of the school. While all appears safe at this time, I will not take chances. Prefects, please take your housemates back to your common rooms. They are to be taken straight back to their rooms. I must impress upon all that no side trips will be tolerated. Auror Moody will detail a squad of Aurors to escort each House back to their dormitories. All entrances to your rooms will be sealed for the night, and Aurors will guard the entrances – even those you think are secret. Those of you who might try some after-hours castle excursions to satisfy your curiosities, I warn you not to do that. From now on all post-curfew rounds will be conducted by the staff with Aurors augmenting our numbers. Anyone caught out of bounds will be expelled, no questions asked. I direct you to focus your curiosities on your classes and your homework while we finish our preparations for securing the castle. Prefects? You have your instructions. Please see to them now.”
Albus gave a small wave with his wand, and the Hall doors opened wide. After a quick conversation, the Head Boy and Head Girl told the Slytherin students to leave first. Several Aurors took places at the front and the rear of the student group. The House prefects stayed at the edges and made sure no one strayed from the group. Gryffindor house was told to prepare for leaving next, but a tall red-headed prefect called out to the staff table.
Several of the professors looked toward him. Minerva replied, “Mr. Weasley, you have a question?”
“Professor, what of my… I mean what of the students taken into the anteroom? Will we be able to see them again? Tonight?”
Albus’ voice resonated comfortingly through the Great Hall. “That is an excellent question, Mr. Weasley. Everyone, your attention again.”
All of the students, including those Slytherins massed at the Hall’s door, stopped and turned toward the staff table.
“A small number of your colleagues have been detained for questioning. Once we are sure you have safely arrived at your common rooms, we will ask them a few questions in private. So I ask that you all expedite the return to your rooms; the sooner you are there the sooner we can begin to return your friends and classmates to you. I have also been informed that the house elves have prepared a truly noteworthy meal tonight, which will be served in your common rooms. So, again, prefects, you have your instructions!”
The Slytherin group quickly cleared the doorway, followed by the Gryffindors, then the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. As the last Aurors left the Hall, Albus asked that Minerva and Alastor stay with him, but he dismissed the other professors to begin irregular patrols of the passageways about the castle.
*******
In the relative solitude of the Hall after the students left, Alastor looked to the Specialists on the bench behind him and jerked his head toward the near end of the Hufflepuff table. He sat with the Specialists, across from the two professors, and picked up the conversation thread from before the students’ dismissal. “We still have to talk before we start questioning the detainees.”
Albus glanced at Minerva and then grimaced. “We noticed you started the card numbers here at ten.”
“Yeah. Well, several signatures are probably safe, a couple are more your bailiwick, there are the usual stupid items, and then -” Alastor looked over at the Scribe, who nodded. “And then there are some that seem to be linked, but we don’t understand how or why.”
Albus sat back, clearly troubled.
Minerva swept her cool gaze across the Specialists. “Indeed, Alastor. Perhaps you would like to explain?”
“Indeed, Madame Deputy Headmistress,” Alastor repeated with a nod. “Let’s start with the easy ones first.”
The Scribe pushed a pile of parchment across the table to the Auror. “These are in an order you will find useful,” he said softly.
“All right. Card one, the Forbidden Forest,” Minerva rolled her eyes, and Albus’ mouth twitched into the first genuine smile that day, “is so full of conflicting signatures we didn’t even try to decipher them.”
“As it was in your day, Alastor, there are still reasons the forest is forbidden,” replied Albus. “Though thankfully, few students have your desire to explore there.”
“Right. I’ll skip card two for the moment. Card three, that thing Peeves has an unusual signature -”
“I dare say he does,” Albus interrupted. “A poltergeist is a most unusual type of spirit, but he is neither Dark, nor is he the source of our troubles today.”
“Card four, the Bloody Baron, has the remains of a powerful Dark signature -”
“A spirit is not the source of our problem, now or 50 years ago,” Albus said, growing frustrated. “Why did you waste time with him?”
“You asked us to be thorough, Albus. We were,” chided Alastor in response.
Albus glanced at the Leader Specialist and then gave Alastor a sour look. “You have a point. I appreciate your diligence, all of you. I will talk to them both, although I don’t expect to get much from Peeves.”
“Card five will be discussed with cards two, eight through ten, and twenty-two.” The two professors cast concerned glances at each other.
Albus said, “Fair enough. They are all related I take it?”
“Very much so, or so we think,” replied the Scribe.
“Cards six and seven were similar signatures, both of a Dark creature. We found a very faint signature — card six — in a tunnel below the Whomping Willow. The signature became progressively stronger as this tunnel approached the Shrieking Shack outside of Hogsmeade. Card seven is an identical signature, much stronger and more recent, in the dungeons of a tower no one seems to realise is on the school grounds.”
“Really? How unusual,” Albus deadpanned, while Minerva pursed her lips.
“We think these, at least, can be explained adequately,” the Tall One added with a touch of humour.
Alastor frowned slightly and then continued. “I think this is a good point to bring up our results in the various house common rooms and dormitories. As far as discovering illegal and outright Dark objects, the Slytherin rooms were the worst.” He had to pause, his magical eye glaring at the Tall One, who interrupted with a faint snort of disgust. “But we found some Dark, or at least questionable, signatures elsewhere, too. The search of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common and dorm rooms revealed nothing more than some common apothecary love potions, self-answering quills, and a significant number of items I am certain are on Filch’s banned list from both Dervish & Banges and Zonko’s. We have made two lists, one for your records and one to provide to each respective Head of House to handle as they please.”
Albus nodded, the twinkle in his eyes coming back.
“The Gryffindor common and dorm rooms,” Alastor continued, “had similar minor contraband. However, umm…” Moody shifted uneasily. “Minerva, don’t you complain that those Weasley twins have barely passing grades in Potions?”
“That is one of the classes Molly is constantly after them about, yes. Why?”
“It is odd, then, that the fourth year Gryffindor dorm has the second best stocked Potions cupboard in the school. They also own a Potions library that possibly rivals what is in this school’s library.”
Minerva’s lips pursed into a razor-thin line, and her voice was ice cold. “What sort of Dark items do they have?”
The Leader specialist spoke to the group for the first time in a quiet voice. “There was nothing we found that could not be purchased through regular owl post. But if they’re such poor Potions students, why do they have a well-stocked personal apothecary? They were assigned cards because one had an overly concentrated potion while the other carried an unusual, and possibly dangerous, substance on his person. Better safe than sorry. That girl sitting across from them was assigned a card because she carried most of the ingredients to make Polyjuice Potion.”
“I will most certainly ask them about this!” Minerva declared.
“That’s not all, though,” said the Scribe, reluctantly. “The first year girls’ dorm had a powerful Dark signature, the same signature that came from the red-haired girl’s robes.”
Minerva sat with her mouth agape in shock. She looked at Albus with disbelief on every part of her body. “Ginny Weasley involved with Dark Arts?! How can this be? No. There was nothing from any of her family that leads me to believe she is.” She stood and began to pace furiously near the table.
Albus sighed and tried to find the words to soothe his Deputy’s nerves. “Miss Weasley has no more a knowledge of Dark Arts than I do, Minerva.” Minerva stopped her pacing, her face gone pale, while Alastor and the Specialists all turned and stared at him, too.
The Scribe coughed softly and said, “That’s not exactly reassuring, Headmaster.”
Albus stared at him in confusion for a moment and then grinned sheepishly. “Ah, yes. I see where that can be construed as a less than reassuring statement. Let me say that Miss Weasley could no more be a practitioner of Dark Arts than I am.”
There was a moment of deep sighs and a few snorts, but the brief humour faded quickly. “Right,” Alastor said. “The Slytherin rooms have been discussed already, and there is more information on the individual students who received cards. So,” he continued, “now is a good time to discuss cards two, five, eight through ten, and twenty-two. They all have a signature similar to the one in the first year Gryffindor girls’ dormitory.”
Albus glanced grimly at Minerva, and they both nodded to Alastor.
“Okay,” said the old Auror with a look toward the Specialists. “These cards are focused on a signature we found. It appears to be a unique signature concentrated in several places, with traces that range from very weak to overpowering. Card two is for a very strong signature by the second floor bathroom where the first attack occurred and where the messages were left on the wall. The signature is quite fresh there. Interestingly, there is a faint trace of the signature on the seventh floor, near the portrait of the idiot teaching trolls to dance. We assigned that card five, but there isn’t any specific source for that one, right?” Alastor asked the Leader Specialist, who nodded. “Card eight is for a similar signature we found again near the third-floor corridor you placed off-limits last year.”
“You think it’s him?” Minerva asked, obviously aghast.
“Impossible,” stated Albus. “What is left of Voldemort has fled to somewhere in the Balkans. He is not in England, let alone Hogwarts.”
“And again,” Alastor said, “card nine is assigned to this signature in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom -”
“That is to be expected,” Albus sighed.
“There is no trace of the signature on that buffoon you have teaching this year. However, the signature is also in the Defence professor’s office and personal quarters. Card ten, assigned to Snape -”
“Professor Snape,” corrected Albus absently.
“To Snape,” continued Alastor, ignoring the correction, “is also the same signature, and it is fresh and quite strong on your Potions Master.”
Albus sat upright and stared at the Leader Specialist. “How strong?” he asked insistently.
“It covers most of his left arm,” offered the Leader.
“I will handle this when he is questioned here in a few minutes,” Albus decided after a few moments of contemplation.
“Finally,” interjected Alastor, “this is same Dark signature detected in the Weasley girl’s dorm room and on her person. That is the reason we assigned her card twenty-two. The signature on her person is more powerful than the one on Snape.”
“I’m not sure if it’s really her personally,” added the Leader. “It’s a bit confusing, actually. I get two distinct signatures, one about her alone and one that seems to flow from something in her robes. We must be very careful with this. I don’t know if she is in danger or if she is the danger herself.”
Minerva sat down again, and Albus looked at each of them, suddenly feeling wan and very old. After a few moments he faced the Specialists, taking a deep breath. “You have provided Hogwarts with information on the infractions within each house, and we have the information on the individual students who received cards. I will forward copies of these parchments to Madam Bones and Auror Scrimgeour for their action. Thank you for your help. I am not sure your services will be needed for the individual subject questioning, but during this next phase of the investigation I would like you to remain here, seated on the bench you were on. Try to stay as inconspicuous as possible. If I need your assistance, I will call you.”
Standing, the Tall One spread his arms wide and bowed deeply. “We remain at your service, Headmaster,” he said with a hint of mirth. The other two Specialists nodded silently and also rose from the table. All three quickly moved back to the bench along the wall behind the staff table. A wand appeared, as if by magic, in the hand of the Tall One. He waved it before himself and his two companions, and they became nothing more than shadows along the wall.
Chapter 2: Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition
Author's Notes: I'm grateful for the help from Jedi Master Sovran and Moshpit, who allowed me to adopt this plot warren. Also Jonathan Avery, who's guidance is not apparent but later chapters will be better for it.
After the Dark Magic Specialists left the Hufflepuff table, the two professors and the retired Auror stood. With a wave of his wand, Albus stacked all of the house tables along the far wall. He conjured a simple round table with three comfortable chairs; a straight-backed wooden chair appeared on the opposite side of the table.
Looking at Alastor, Albus asked, “You have the parchments with the signature recordings?” At the Auror’s affirmative grunt, Albus called over to the anteroom guard. “Kingsley, please bring ah… card ten, Professor Snape, in for questioning.”
Kingsley opened the anteroom door and called for the Potions Master. A moment later Albus saw him step through the doorway and pause to take in the radically changed Great Hall. To those who knew him well, the man’s normally pallid skin appeared flushed and his eyes flashed with indignant anger. Albus and Minerva shared a silent, disapproving expression and watched him stride towards them.
“What is the meaning of this, Headmaster?” Severus seethed. “I am aware of the pressure you are under to stop these attacks. However, the last thing I expected from you was some sort of inquisition!”
Alastor gave a snorting laugh and replied, “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!” Severus looked confused and turned towards Alastor, glaring intently at him. The old Auror gave another humorous snort. “Really, Snape. Your Death Eater friends never told you that all Aurors receive Occlumency training through Level Two? Some of us actually train far beyond that. But do continue. I find your attempts amusing.”
Severus’ eyes widened for a moment, and then he sat awkwardly in the chair opposite Minerva.
Albus stared at his Potions Master and said gravely, “Severus, is there anything you wish to tell us before we ask a few questions?”
“I am not sure what you mean, Headmaster,” the man replied cautiously.
“I see,” Albus said with a disappointed sigh.
“Perhaps,” Minerva began primly, “we can start with your responsibilities as Head of Slytherin House.”
Severus glanced quickly in the direction of the shadowy Specialists. “Those,” he sneered, “question my actions as a Head of House?”
“The conduct of staff and students here are beyond their purview. I am the one who has questions about your competency as a Head of House,” Albus told him, forcing his voice to have only a slight edge of reprimand.
Severus’ face jerked back towards Albus as if he had been slapped.
“I authorised an unannounced inspection of all house common and dormitory rooms. This was done while everyone was here in the Hall.” Albus slid one of the search result parchments across the small table to Severus. “As expected, every house had some sort of contraband in their rooms. This, however, is a list of items found in the Slytherin House rooms.”
Severus let an exasperated huff as he scanned the parchment. “Headmaster, I was not aware of these,” he said in a dismissive tone. “None of the Heads of House can be in the students’ private rooms constantly.” He began to push the parchment back across the table towards Albus.
Alastor slammed his hand down upon the parchment. “All of these are illegal, and some have no purpose other than Dark Magic. None of these were hidden, Snape! They were in plain sight and obviously used! I have enough evidence here to transfer the majority of Slytherin House from Hogwarts to Azkaban. And have their families join them, to boot!”
Severus stood abruptly and drew the attention of the Aurors around the Hall. Alastor stood, too, with a speed and dexterity that seemed out of place for his gnarled appearance. His wand was pointed at the centre of Severus’ chest. The Aurors about the Hall’s circumference tensed, their hands moving to their wands.
“Do you question my competency, old man?” Severus hissed at the Auror.
“No,” replied Alastor coolly, “I question your loyalties. Uncover you left arm!” he ordered brusquely.
Severus looked directly at Albus and cried out, “Headmaster, I object to this treatment!”
Albus knew he had to defuse this situation before runaway emotions became runaway actions. He stood slowly, joining the other two men. Holding the younger man’s gaze, Albus answered, “Do as he says, Severus.”
Severus looked back at Alastor and attempted to sneer at him. The look had no effect, and slowly he pulled his sleeve over his elbow.
Alastor’s left hand grabbed Severus’ wrist with a grip that made the younger man wince. The Auror touched his wand tip to the centre of Severus’ forearm. “Morsmorde,” he spat softly.
As Minerva gasped, “What are you doing?” a malignantly black Dark Mark appeared on Severus’ exposed skin.
His sallow face became an expressionless mask, but Severus looked at Albus when the Headmaster spoke. Calmly, almost patiently, he said, “I ask again, Severus. Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
A look of thoughtful caution appeared in Severus’ eyes. “I do not know why this has reappeared,” he said. “As far as I can ascertain, what remains of the Dark Lord fled Britain after he was expelled from Quirrell.”
Irritated by the non-answer, Albus asked coldly, “And yet you saw no need to inform me of your Mark’s reappearance?”
Smoothly, Snape responded, “There is no reason for its reappearance, so I did not wish to trouble you while the current crisis was unresolved.”
His Potions Master’s evasiveness wore on Albus’ nerves. The man was in a difficult position, and Albus would go the extra mile to assist him because of that. But was a simple answer so much to ask in return? “You do not think they might be connected? Voldemort was in Slytherin House as a student here. The messages on the wall speak of Slytherin’s heir, and now we find a reappearance of Voldemort’s mark on your arm!”
“It is probably a mere coincidence,” Snape replied indifferently.
“Your insolence is not appreciated, Professor,” Minerva snapped, her voice frosty and harsh. “The lives of the staff and students of this school are at grave risk, and you have an indication of the Darkest of Magic present in our midst. You do not have the authority to decide what is and is not germane concerning the safety of this school!”
“This can’t be him!” Snape shouted back in frustration, any attempt at maintaining a detached demeanour gone. The Aurors in the Hall again stared at the group around the small table; Dumbledore saw several of them take a few steps closer, wands drawn. “The Dark Lord is gone; the most he can ever achieve is to exist as but a faint Shade! Potter’s spawn saw to that. At least the boy died quietly, sparing us any additional pathetic, maudlin, Potter worship.” Minerva hissed softly, and Albus was certain she reached for her own wand. “There is nothing left of that charlatan’s prophecy!”
“Calm yourself, Professor,” Dumbledore said sternly. He cast a worried glance at the Aurors, who had moved to positions covering the group at the small table. “Whatever problems you had with James Potter in your youth have no bearing on our crisis today.”
“This is preposterous!” Severus answered with another exasperated shout. “I am being persecuted because I was once a Death Eater. I had nothing to do with Quirrell, and I have nothing to do with what is happening now! My students and I are blameless regarding these attacks!”
“Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater,” Alastor sneered back. “You are not so stupid as to believe otherwise. It is very clever of you to put a modifier on your statement, Professor. You tarnish the silver of Salazar Slytherin’s name. Thanks to you and the other Death Eater scum,” spat Alastor, “it will be decades before Wizards will not laugh when the words ‘blameless’ and ‘Slytherin’ are spoken in the same sentence.”
Staring the old Auror in the eye, Severus smirked and unctuously retorted, “One can not make an omelette without breaking eggs, Mad-Eye.” His voice grew cold, and he continued, “You know where the stain on Salazar’s honour lies? With those who become ordinary and complacent. Just because some have grown soft and lazy, forsaking their ambition, there is no reason to slander those who haven’t.”
Alastor looked at Albus while his magical eye and his wand remained fixed on the Potions professor. “This man’s ill-manners and insolence are unbefitting of the status of Professor at this school,” he growled. “You may have reason to trust him Albus, but I do not. Give me a valid reason why this… man… should not be in Azkaban before the sun sets.”
Albus willed himself to regain control of the situation. The tension in the air was almost physically tangible. He motioned for the two other men to sit down, and he slowly sat himself. When they hesitated, he commanded, “Everyone will calm down and sit down. Now!” He did not shout, but his voice carried throughout the Hall.
As the two others sat, he was relieved to see the Aurors move back against the walls. While not all re-holstered their wands, the tension in the room began to ease. Minerva and Alastor looked at Severus for a few long and silent moments. Albus began to smooth out the parchment rolls on the table, providing several moments for everyone to focus on this simple clerical task rather that the heated words that had just passed. Quietly and gravely, Albus began to speak to his colleagues.
“The reason why I place my trust in Severus has never changed.” Snape gave Alastor a satisfied smirk. “However, Severus, life is not static. You think that trust for actions once is trust for actions always. People, places, and actions change with time. This means that the trust between people must be malleable to allow for that change. Additionally, trust must extend both ways, and if it does, it will be malleable to the changes of life and time. Anything else and trust becomes quite brittle, shattering at the slightest blow.”
“Headmaster, surely you don’t -”
Albus held up a hand, and Severus fell silent. “One of the reasons I value your presence at this school is that you have the potential to do great things. Yet you forever turn back to relive old slights and fight old battles that should have and did end long ago.” Severus’ cheeks darkened slightly, and his eyes again flashed with anger.
Albus’ voice turned hard and cold as he continued. “I understand the pressure that you are under, Severus. Head of Slytherin House is never a position for the foolish or unwary. I have allowed you wide discretion and latitude because of this and because of your talent and potential, but I can no longer afford you that latitude. You think that laws and rules are for others, that they are beneath you and beneath your students. This can no longer be. You think the safety of the other staff and the students at this school, those outside your House, is not your concern. This can no longer be. You think that trust is a one-way path, like a debt owed without reciprocity. This can no longer be.”
Cautiously, Severus replied, “I am not certain what you mean, Headmaster.”
Severus’ attitude, coupled with the worries of the past several months, cracked Albus’ patience. He slapped his hand upon the table, causing the other three to jump, and he seemed to crackle with energy.
“You are wiser than that, Severus!” he spit angrily. “Do not take us for fools. This school is in grave peril. I will not and can not afford the slightest of doubts about my staff. You leave me no other avenues. Swear the Unbreakable Vow to me, to my cause, now; or else leave this school, never to return. Alastor,” he snapped, “I want you to do the binding. Minerva, you are to be the witness.”
“The Unbreakable Vow?” Severus said with surprise. “Is this really… necessary?” he finished weakly.
“If you are the man you want me to think you are, this is not a difficult choice.”
Severus sat very still, pinned by Albus’ stare. After a brief pause, Alastor turned and motioned for several Aurors to approach the table. Noting the movement, Albus felt a wave of sadness wash over him until Severus suddenly said, “I will swear to your Unbreakable Vow!”
Pondering if, for once, he was actually wrong about someone, Albus shook his head slowly. “The Vow is not mine Severus, it is ours. Do you even know the difference?”
Snape’s schooled mask of indifference slipped again. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand to Albus. Taking it, Albus nodded to Alastor, who raised his wand over their joined hands.
“Will you, Severus Snape,” Albus intoned, “swear to report all Dark Magic and illicit objects and spells that affect this school, including all of its staff and students, and to take appropriate actions against all objects banned at Hogwarts by Ministry laws and Hogwarts rules?”
“I will,” replied Snape.
A thin tongue of flame leapt from Alastor’s wand-tip and wrapped around their joined hands.
“Will you, Severus Snape, swear to place the safety and well being of all students and staff of Hogwarts above personal ambitions and petty grievances?”
Again Snape replied, “I will,” although he looked like he had swallowed something bitter. Another fiery chain encircled their hands and wrists.
“Will you, Severus Snape, swear unconditional and complete loyalty to me, to my orders, and to the goals I wish to attain for this school, for its staff and students, and for the Wizarding World?”
Severus gave him an uncertain look. Albus pinned him again with his stare and warned, “Now or never, Severus.”
“I will,” Snape said slowly, not taking his eyes off of Dumbledore.
The third strand of fire merged with the other two. The joined strands flared and then faded.
“I want to know of any change whatsoever in the behaviour of your Mark. Any change. Is that clear, Professor Snape?” Albus said forcefully.
Solemnly, Severus responded, “Yes, Headmaster.”
“Thank you, Severus. You are free to proceed with your duties.”
“Headmaster, what of the others who were assigned cards, especially students from my house?”
Alastor gave Albus a hard look.
“You will cooperate with the Aurors who are searching and cataloguing the banned items from Slytherin House. I expect all of my Heads of House to provide me a report on their students tomorrow morning.”
The professor stood but did not leave the table. “That does not answer my question, Headmaster. What of the other students and Professor Sprout?” he asked, his voice regaining its unctuous tone.
“Why those students, beyond the four from Slytherin, were assigned a card is not your concern. Additionally, any students found in violation of Ministry law and school regulations will be punished as prescribed by law and rule. I will brief the entire staff on the items I think are important to the school as a whole. Other matters will be handled privately.”
Severus looked up in surprise. “Privately?” he asked warily.
“Privately for now, at least,” Albus said. “Do not forget the Vow, Severus. You have your duties to attend to, so good evening, Professor.” With this dismissal he returned his Potions Master’s wand and gave him a parchment with the list of Slytherin infractions.
Severus glanced at the parchment and then rolled it up and stuffed it in a robe pocket. He nodded at the curt dismissal and proceeded out of the Hall.
“Well that was as enjoyable as a boggart in the loo cupboard,” Alastor grumped. “I still think you are far too lenient with that man. You mark my words, Albus; he will be the death of you yet!”
“We knew the first case would be the most difficult one,” admonished Albus.
Minerva looked at the two men, her eyes flinty and her lips pursed to a thin line. “None of these are going to be easy, Albus,” she said with clipped words. “May I remind you that as many Gryffindors received cards as Slytherins? Including one of my prized students!” she hissed.
“Let us finish this quickly, then,” Albus said, weariness weighing him down. “We have another professor waiting, as well as a room full of children with nothing to do. I find that youth and idleness are often a volatile mixture. Kingsley, please bring Professor Sprout to the table.”
Pomona Sprout approached the round table pale and nervous. She looked at the three others. “I don’t know what I have that holds Dark Magic. Albus, I… I am quite embarrassed by all this. What must my students think of me?”
Alastor looked at the next parchment in the stack before him. “Pomona,” he said in a soft rumble, “the necklace you wear gives the indication of being a Dark object.”
She gasped and raised her hand to her neck. “You have to be wrong! This necklace has been in my family for at least five generations. It was given to me when I turned seventeen, and I’ve been wearing it ever since. Albus, if this is truly Dark, what have I been doing? Oh Merlin! I’m not responsible for all this, am I?” she said fretfully.
“If I may, Pomona?” Dumbledore held his hand out to her. She blinked, appearing confused. “The necklace, please,” Albus added. She frowned but reached behind her neck and unclasped the chain. Taking the jewellery from her, Albus began to cast a series of spells upon it.
Seeing her colleague’s eyes cloud with worry, Minerva leaned forward. “That is merely a series of spells used by Gringotts curse breakers,” she said softly. “They tell the caster what sort of magic to expect when breaking a curse.”
“Breaking a curse?” Pomona anxiously whispered back.
Albus frowned in intense concentration, casting spells for over a minute. He stopped, sat back in his chair and appraised the necklace thoughtfully. It was a magnificent piece of Charms work. Nodding to himself, he smiled faintly.
“Very ingenious. Five generations you say?” he asked rhetorically. Addressing his Herbology professor directly, he said, “There is nothing Dark about this, although its… ah… aura… its aura might appear so. This is charmed to act as a shield against Legilimency.”
“Legilimency? Why…?”
“I imagine one of your ancestors thought it important that a young lady be able to keep her most intimate thoughts private.” Dumbledore continued to smile.
“Then is it safe to continue to wear? I’m not harming myself, or anyone else?”
“Oh, no. Perfectly safe to wear, although rather frustrating for any unscrupulous Legilimens you might run across. I take it you will confer this to your niece when she is of age?” Pomona nodded. “Good! You ought to tell her what it does.” He handed the necklace back to her, and she peered at it for a moment before re-clasping it about her neck.
“Go ahead and check on your students; let them know we are doing everything in our power to keep them safe,” Albus assured her. “Minerva and I shall visit each House’s common room after we are finished here and inform the students about what has occurred today. The less rumours, the better. Few items found were actually Dark. Most, like your necklace, were merely unusual. It was by my demand that the Dark Magic Specialists were exceedingly thorough. The students from Hufflepuff had contraband on their persons and in their dormitories, not Dark objects. I do expect you to take care of this.” He handed her a parchment with the list of Hufflepuff House infractions, along with her wand. She looked at the parchment, grimaced, and nodded. “I’ll send along the charge list for your other students when we are finished here. Good evening, Pomona, and thank you for your patience.”
She looked at Albus, grateful relief clearly reflected in her eyes. Taking her wand and the infractions parchment, she frowned again as she began to read it closely while walking away.
Albus felt Alastor lean behind him and tap Minerva on the shoulder. “Why do I have more confidence in her righting her students than I do in the other professor questioned tonight?”
Minerva showed no sign of emotion and did not answer his implied accusation. Albus looked at him and shook his head slowly. “We must treat everyone the same regardless of our personal feelings, Alastor. We should not stoop to the level of the blood-bigots.”
Moody snorted and replied, “A very altruistic sentiment, Albus. And how many lives did that lose us in the last war? When dealing with Death Eater scum it is safest to fight fire with fire. Of course we can stoop to their level! The trick is not to stay there.”
“That attitude will not help when questioning the students waiting in the other room. I need your unbiased opinions. If I can not expect that, I must ask you to leave.”
Alastor seemed to ponder that statement and then gave an eloquent shrug. “These children may yet be diverted from Dark Magic, Albus. We agree there. But for those who already bear Voldemort’s mark, we will always disagree.” With a determined sigh he continued, “Let’s get this over with, shall we? I’ll have Kingsley fetch the first student.” Waving to the tall Auror, Alastor muttered, “These first few ought to be quite interesting.”
Minerva gave a sniff that sounded faintly approving as Albus released another exasperated sigh and, once again, pinched the bridge of his nose.
The platinum blond Slytherin boy, carrying his book bag, approached the table with a wary expression.
“Place your bag next to the chair and sit, Mr. Malfoy,” Minerva said crisply.
Malfoy did as he was told but fidgeted as he sat on the front edge of the seat. “I have nothing to do with whatever is attacking Mu… err… Muggle-borns, Professor. Perhaps,” he said with a faintly condescending tone, “you should be looking for that.”
Minerva stiffened at the boy’s implied insolence. Albus merely nodded. “That search is the purpose for today’s activities. It has uncovered a number of illegal spells and items, as well as some Dark ones, too.”
“What does that have to do with me?” the boy asked, sounding every bit as anxious as he suddenly looked.
“There are several… unusual traces of magic about you, Mr. Malfoy. I will examine them now, so please remain still.”
Albus slowly brought his wand up and pointed the tip over the boy’s head. Malfoy immediately leapt to his feet and jumped back behind the chair.
“My father will hear of this attack, Professor!” he exclaimed nervously.
“Sit down, boy, and be silent!” Alastor growled. “Do you honestly think this school’s Headmaster would attack a student? Let alone attack a student in a room surrounded by Aurors? I find it interesting you consider a simple examination spell an attack.” Malfoy remained standing so Alastor commanded, “Sit!” He looked down at the chair while his magical eye remained fixed on Malfoy’s face. As it had with Severus, the outburst at the table drew the attention of several Aurors.
Clearly frightened by the remorseless stare of the magical eye, and the approaching Aurors, Malfoy returned to his seat. Waving away the Aurors, Albus made a series of sweeping wand motions above and around the boy. He took extra care not to point the wand tip directly at the child.
“Interesting,” he muttered to himself. “Mr. Malfoy,” he said aloud, “please answer my questions completely and honestly. That will speed you on your way back to your friends in the Slytherin common room. What is your reason for wearing a glamour charm with an illegal narcotic enticement spell? Those are quite unusual to see on a child as young as yourself.”
Malfoy stiffened at the word “child” but coolly replied, “That is a combination spell meant for my intended. Surely, Professor, you know that the more traditional pureblood families still use this with arranged marriages. The enticement spell is not illegal; it is quite common in Moldova.”
“Ah. I see. Well, Mr. Malfoy, surely your parents know that glamour charms are banned on the school grounds.” With that Albus picked up his wand. As he made several sharp slashing motions it appeared that a sheer curtain dropped from around Malfoy. The boy’s platinum blond hair lost its effulgence and looked slightly dishevelled. His skin was no longer pale but pasty, and his posture appeared slightly stooped.
“Hey!” whined Malfoy as he looked at his hands with their uneven and dirty nails. “What did you do?”
“I removed the glamour and enticement spells. They may be all the rage, as it were, in Moldova, but you are in Britain, where they are illegal,” Albus lectured.
“Now let’s move on to something far more serious. Please place the wand you are carrying up your sleeve on the table.”
Malfoy looked puzzled for a moment but quickly schooled his features into a patently faux innocent look. “The Aurors confiscated my wand, sir. I haven’t received it back.”
“We have that wand, Mr. Malfoy. Now place the second wand on the table,” Minerva said impatiently.
The Malfoy boy looked alarmed and hesitantly reached for his robe sleeve, but then he stopped.
“Mr. Malfoy, if you do not produce that other wand immediately I will have Auror Moody remove it from your person,” warned Albus. Alastor smiled, but his scarred features made the expression appear anything but reassuring.
The young man quickly pulled the other wand from his sleeve and dropped it on the table. Minerva and Alastor watched as Albus ran his wand over this second wand. He did this several times, pausing between each pass to stare at his own wand tip.
“This is not an Ollivander wand,” he said finally. Malfoy sat mute as his eyes regained a wary look. “Only in rare instances are second wands allowed, Mr. Malfoy. Were you aware of that?”
“They are allowed at Durmstrang…sir,” he replied.
Alastor glanced at Albus but said nothing. Albus noticed his look and let out yet another weary sigh.
“This is not Durmstrang, Mr. Malfoy. Throughout most of the Wizarding world, second wands are illegal unless approved by that government’s Head of Law Enforcement. Even then, it is almost always for officers within their law enforcement departments. Those approvals are forwarded to the International Confederation of Wizards, and the wand bearers then must always carry the letter of writ with the authorisation. As head of the Confederation, I am unaware of any such approval for any member of the Malfoy family. Nor are you an Auror.”
Malfoy’s expression did not change, but his pasty skin now appeared mottled.
“The punishment for such an offence -”
“Punishment?” Draco asked fearfully.
“Yes. Punishment,” Albus continued, “is a one thousand galleon fine and a year in Azkaban. The wand is also destroyed. Auror Shacklebolt, may I inconvenience you to approach us?” He handed the wand to Kingsley when he got to the table.
The tall Auror was about to break it when Alastor Moody and the Malfoy boy both shouted, “Wait!”
Glaring at Malfoy, Alastor said menacingly, “You have no say in this, boy.” Turning to Kingsley he asked, “Before you destroy the wand, may I examine it?”
The Auror looked to Albus, who nodded.
Alastor took the wand and touched its tip with his own. “Prior Incantato,” he said. The echoes of a number of spells issued forth, all advanced for a second-year and many lethal if used on a person or beast. Handing the wand back to Kingsley, Alastor glared at the Malfoy boy.
With a sharp snap, Kingsley broke the wand. Handing the two pieces back to Albus he said, “I shall inform Madam Bones of this action. Will I be taking the suspect to the Ministry for formal sentencing and transfer to Azkaban?”
“Azkaban?” Malfoy whispered, horrified.
Albus held up his hand, stopping any further action by Kingsley. “This is a first offence, and Mr. Malfoy is underage. As Supreme Mugwump, I waive the requirement of confinement to Azkaban.”
A relieved look flooded Malfoy’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a wary one. “And the fine, Professor?” the boy asked nervously.
“The fine shall still be levied, Mr. Malfoy.”
“Are we done then, sir?” Malfoy replied with a clenched jaw.
“Not quite, Mr. Malfoy. I wish to examine the signet ring on your right hand, and we must also discuss the punishments for several infractions of school rules.”
“My family’s crest? What is it to you?” Malfoy demanded.
“Place it on the table.”
“Why?”
“Mr. Malfoy! Twenty points from Slytherin for your insolence. Do as Professor Dumbledore ordered. Now!” Minerva said, clearly outraged by the boy’s continued disrespectful behaviour.
The Malfoy boy angrily removed the ring and dropped it onto the table. Albus did not pick it up but again used the Gringotts spell detection sequence upon the ring. When finished he regarded Malfoy with a sad look. He tapped the ring with his wand and said, “Solvere.”
As the ring became a puddle of liquid gold, Malfoy shouted in stunned horror. “What did you do?”
Albus regarded the young man with pity. “That was a Dark object; its only purpose was to take your ambition and cunning, which are admirable attributes, and subvert them to selfishness, regardless of the cost to others.”
“That ring has been in my family for generations,” Malfoy said, his jaw again clenched.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Alastor muttered to no one.
Albus ignored the retired Auror’s outburst and told Kingsley, “I will provide Madam Bones with a summary of this action, and the discipline awarded this student here at the school. Beyond the fine for the wand, it’s up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to levy punishment on the family as they see fit. I will do likewise for all the other detainees here today.”
“Discipline?” Draco asked indignantly. “My family is fined, a charm removed, a wand broken, and an heirloom destroyed. What further need for punishment can there be?” Malfoy sat back in the chair, his arms folded defiantly across his chest.
Alastor gave another exasperated snort and shook his head. Albus looked to Minerva, giving her a slight nod, and then sat back in his chair.
“Mr. Malfoy,” she said crisply, “consider yourself fortunate you haven’t been expelled! You are assigned detention beginning this weekend and continuing through to the final weekend of this term. Every Saturday and Sunday you will report to Mr. Filch after breakfast and continue under his supervision until the evening meal. You will surrender you wand to him and clean the castle. Without magic.”
“Cleaning?” exclaimed Malfoy. “That’s servant work!”
“Perhaps you prefer expulsion and the year in Azkaban?” Alastor asked politely. The boy’s irritation promptly deflated.
“Finally…” Minerva continued with a forced patience, “I will be sending a letter to your parents outlining the various offences and punishments. Is there anything else, Headmaster?”
Albus shook his head. He handed the boy’s original wand back to him. “You are dismissed, Mr. Malfoy. Collect your bag, and then an Auror will escort you to the Slytherin common room.”
The three adults watched as the Malfoy boy petulantly stomped off with Kingsley, who handed him off to another Auror and returned to the table.
“Do you wish me to remain at the table, Headmaster?” Kingsley said in a formal tone.
“I do not think it necessary,” replied Albus.
“But be vigilant,” Alastor cut in with a grimace.
The next student to come into the hall was Pansy Parkinson, who was wearing an illegal narcotic enticement spell and was carrying essence of veela. As it turned out, the Slytherin girl was Draco Malfoy’s intended, and she was not at all pleased to be deprived of her charms. Once the headmaster had removed her enhancements, she was seen to have mousy brown hair, rather than sleek black, and her teeth were far from perfect. After a set of histrionics similar to the Malfoy boy’s, she was permitted to return to the Slytherin common room with an Auror escort.
Alastor watched the girl leave and asked, “Are they all going to be like this? I am beginning to feel quite grateful I didn’t take you up on your offer for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professorship here.”
Albus sighed. “Kingsley, please bring out Mister ah… Higgs.”
An upper form boy in Slytherin robes came out of the anteroom. Dropping his bag next to the empty chair, he sat down without invitation. Terence Higgs, a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team, carried a vial of Strengthening Solution. That potion was normally only dispensed by the School Matron, but his vial did not come from her. Regardless, the use of any type of strength potion was a violation of Quidditch league rules at all levels of play. Minerva demanded his immediate dismissal for blatant cheating. This set off a hot argument resulting in twenty points deducted from Slytherin for disrespect to a Professor and the boy’s dismissal from the team for the rest of the school year.
After the boy departed the Hall, Alastor turned to Albus. “After this last Slytherin student, I want some of the Aurors to stand down for a meal and rotate the guard positions. It’s hard to remain vigilant when acting as nothing more than a glorified minder.”
“Why now? There are still other students to question.”
“Oh, Merlin, Albus! Look at these remaining parchments. After Snape’s Slytherin thugs everyone else-”
“Alastor, I will not have any one House ostracised for the behaviour of a few students.”
“You’re being a fool, Albus!” the Auror warned. “Look at the violations from each house. Look! Yes, each has a similar number of transgressions. But I think there is a considerable difference between violating that pillock Filch’s naughty toy list and committing an offence that comes with a sentence in Azkaban! Minerva agrees with me on this, don’t you?”
The Deputy Headmistress shot him a withering glare. “Do not involve me in this discussion, Alastor,” she whispered harshly.
“You see, Albus? That means she agrees with me completely but doesn’t want to argue with her immediate superior.” Minerva sniffed in annoyance, but Albus saw the corners of her mouth rise in the faintest of smiles.
Albus sat and stared out a window into the waning twilight. Having fresh eyes about the castle was a good idea, as was having Aurors in the Great Hall who had not been involved with the previous contentious interrogations. “I can see your idea has merit. I’ll let Kingsley make his personnel changes after we have talked to Mister, ah… Mister Flint.”
Marcus Flint attempted to bluff his way through the questioning on why he had a vial of Centaur blood in his bag. Alastor asked the boy what he thought would happen when the Centaurs of the Forbidden Forest were told about his illegal cache, which caused all the blood to drain from Mr. Flint’s face. His evasive attitude went with it. Albus always sought new knowledge, and the use of Centaur blood as a “virility aid” was one he had never heard before. The boy’s family was fined five hundred Galleons for possession of the blood, and Mr. Flint himself was given detention. He would be cleaning the castle with Mr. Malfoy for the remainder of the school year.
When Flint was gone Albus raised and whirled his wand. The Hufflepuff house table moved back to its normal place in the Hall, and a selection of sandwiches and drinks appeared on it.
Alastor glanced at Albus and nodded approvingly. “Kingsley,” he called, “go ahead and rotate your people. Let’s start getting them fed.”
“Once you have seen to that, please have someone bring out the next student,” Albus requested.
A tall, handsome boy came out and walked over to the round table. “Mr. Diggory, set your bag down, and please have a seat.” Albus looked at the parchment before him and frowned. “I ask you to remain still for a few moments while I test you.” As with the Slytherin students, he moved his wand about the Diggory boy and then tapped it on the palm of his hand. He frowned again and then asked, “Mr. Diggory, are you a politician?”
The boy looked embarrassed and replied, “No, sir. May I ask why you think that?”
“You are under a Tangible Trust Extension Charm. That is usually found on politicians to bolster their popularity. Unfortunately this charm is banned at Hogwarts.”
“Well, sir,” the boy responded, “it’s just… I hope Professor Sprout selects me as a prefect next year, and I thought this might help her decide I deserved it.”
“You are one of the last students at this school who need a charm like this. Mr. Diggory, if you trust yourself you will find many willing to follow your lead.” Albus traced an inverted arc over the boy with his wand. Mr. Diggory sat and looked at his two professors. Albus smiled to himself when he saw no change in the boy after the Charm was lifted.
“Professor Sprout will be informed of this infraction. I suggest you explain to her what you hope to achieve. You might be surprised at her willingness to help you. Regardless of that outcome, I must owl your parents regarding this infraction, and for the next four Thursday and Saturday evenings you will report to Professor Flitwick for detention.” Returning the boy’s wand, Albus bid him a good evening.
“Mr. Diggory, please see an Auror to escort you to your common room,” added Minerva.
Albus motioned for the next student to come forth.
A young lady, also in Hufflepuff colours, came out and timidly approached the professors’ table. Albus asked her to set her bag by the chair and take a seat. Caroline Craddock was found to have an addictive love potion in her possession. Under questioning she broke down and explained that “Reginald DeWitt would never notice me without it.”
Oddly, it was Alastor who counselled the girl that she could avoid the Ministry’s mandatory sentence of a year in Azkaban if she gave the potion to Madam Pomfrey to create an antidote for Mr. DeWitt. Despite her obvious embarrassment, Miss Craddock also agreed to tell Mr. DeWitt about the potion. Alastor noted that all embarrassment aside, it was better than a year spent in the hell of the Wizard prison. For violating School rules, she was also assigned detention with Mr. Filch until the spring break.
Watching her leave, Albus quietly said to the others, "It is I who should be ashamed. I’ve not been diligent enough in policing the school. Minerva, please put that on the agenda for the next staff meeting. We must begin to address this now with the opportunity our… ah… Specialists have provided us.” Looking over to the lead Auror, he said, “Kingsley, the next student, please.”
A tall boy wearing a Ravenclaw prefect badge entered the room and walked to the table.
“Mister Turing, good afternoon,” Albus said.
“Good afternoon to you, sir,” the prefect replied politely.
“One can only hope it remains so at the finish,” Albus responded wryly. “Mr. Turing, please place the potion bottles from your bag on the table.” The boy immediately reached in and brought out two vials. “What are these for, Mister Turing?”
“One is a mild sleeping potion Madam Pomfrey prescribed.”
“You are having trouble sleeping?” asked Minerva.
The young man blushed a bit and said, “Yes, ma’am. N.E.W.T.s are less than four months from now, and I am having trouble focusing on my revising.”
“Ah. That can be a problem,” added Albus soberly. “And the second potion is…?”
“A photographic memory potion to aid my retention of facts.”
“Mr. Turing!” Minerva snapped. “That is a banned substance at this school! There’s no purpose for that except for cheating in examinations,” she finished in outrage.
“But, Professor,” he said desperately, “this isn’t for any test. I’m having problems sorting through the reference material and retaining the pertinent facts! With N.E.W.T.s so close, I need this help to focus my revisions.”
Albus stared at the boy for a moment. There was no guile in his demeanour; he was honestly trying to improve his revision habits. He steepled his fingers and gazed up to the rafters of the Hall. Folding his hands on the table before him, he told the prefect, “Mr. Turing, while your aims are admirable, your means are questionable. How long have you been taking this potion?”
“Since Christmas, Professor. I order it directly from the apothecary near my home. It isn’t illegal.”
“You are correct, Mr. Turing, it is not illegal. But it is banned here at the school. Unscrupulous students can use it to ensure a test grade they never could achieve on their own. Tell me, how is your retention of information from your first week of taking the potion?”
“It isn’t as good as I had hoped, sir, but I clearly remembered more than before I began using it. I think it is a matter of me organising better for retention.”
Albus smiled slightly. “Mr. Turing, the potion has a very short term effect. It cannot replace study and proper scholastics. What you retain from over a month ago is due to your efforts, not the potion’s effects. I will confiscate this vial and warn you not to attempt such a stunt again. Professor McGonagall will be owling your parents and also informing them of your detention. You will be reporting to Madam Pince for the next four Saturday evenings to assist her in re-cataloguing a series of reference books used to prepare N.E.W.T. level students for their final tests. Professor Flitwick will be informed of these actions. Here is your wand; you are free to go. An Auror will escort you back to the Ravenclaw common room.”
As the Ravenclaw prefect left the Great Hall, Albus looked down at the list of students left to question. With a slight smile he told Minerva, “These next two should be entertaining.”
Alastor looked over at the list and chuckled. “Arthur’s twins? He and Molly have had their work cut out for them with those two from what I hear.” Minerva gave an exasperated sigh but said nothing.
One of the Weasley twins came out of the anteroom. Albus allowed himself another slight smile as he watched the boy’s apparent nonchalance walking over to the table. Only someone with years of experience at reading body language would notice the wary set to the boy’s eyes.
“Please be seated, Mr. Weasley,” Minerva said. “Set your bag on the floor next to your chair.”
After he settled into the chair, Albus asked him to place his tin of Peruvian Darkness Powder on the table. “How did you come by possession of this powder, Mr. Weasley?”
“I ordered it, Professor. The apothecary shop in Hogsmeade has a foreign items catalogue. According to Ministry guidelines it isn’t illegal, and it isn’t on the list of banned substances at the school.” Alastor gave Albus and Minerva a significant look.
“What you say is true, Mr. Weasley, but this is a rather unusual item to order, is it not?” asked Minerva.
“Well…” The boy paused a moment, obviously considering his answer. “Well, Professor, Fred and I —“
“You are Fred, Mr. Weasley,” Albus interrupted.
Fred Weasley stopped and appeared gobsmacked for a brief moment, but then his face regained its original blasé look. “Right, sir. Anyway, George and I told Mum we would work to bring up our Potions marks, what with O.W.L.s next year and all. We are doing some ah… extra credit research on the properties of the powder.”
“Extra credit research? I am sure Professor Snape was astounded by that,” Minerva said in surprise.
“Yes, well, this isn’t anything for Professor Snape’s class. At least not directly.”
Intrigued by this response, Albus leaned forward and asked, “If this isn’t for school, what is it for?”
“Professor, George and I do think a solid background in Potions will help us in a career after Hogwarts. We just want to do the best we can.”
“Very admirable, Mr. Weasley,” said Minerva. “I must write your mother and tell her of your newfound enthusiasm for academics.”
A look of panic flashed in Fred’s eyes, and then a bland smile reappeared on his face. “I don’t think that would be wise, Professor. A shock like that might be too much for poor Mum’s heart,” he finished with a forced chuckle.
“Well, this combined with the rather extensive apothecary and Potions library in your dormitory are a credit to your efforts, Mr. Weasley,” Minerva said. Once again a fleeting look of panic showed in his eyes, but nothing else in his body language betrayed his unease.
Albus returned his wand, and Minerva told him, “I will keep this Powder, but you are free to go, Mr. Weasley. Auror Shacklebolt will arrange for an escort back to your common room.”
“Professor?” the boy asked Albus. “What about Ginny? Why is she in trouble?”
“So far as we know, she personally is not in trouble. There is an unusual aura about her, but it may be nothing more than some stray Darkness Powder.” The boy’s eyes widened in shock. “She will rejoin you shortly, I think.”
“Thank you, Professor,” he said shakily as he stood and turned to leave.
“Oh, Mr. Weasley?” The Weasley boy turned back to look at the Headmaster. “These are dark times at Hogwarts, and people are scared. While cleverness is appreciated, so is circumspection. Good day.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied gravely.
Alastor waited until the boy left the Hall before he said, “That was interesting. Is it possible someone might be immune to Veritaserum?”
“Wait until you hear his brother. You’ll be amazed. There is no way he could have heard our questions,” Minerva said curtly. She frowned and added uncertainly, “At least I don’t think there is a way. Albus, you don’t suppose -” The Headmaster pursed his lips in thought for a second then shrugged his shoulders.
Alastor called over to Kingsley, “Send the brother, won’t you?”
George Weasley walked into the Great Hall, his actions an exact copy of his brother’s. Albus worked hard to not smile as he noticed the significant glance Minerva gave him and Alastor.
“Mr. Weasley,” Albus said, “would you please place the Potion vial from your bag onto the table.”
This Weasley boy actually sighed slightly with relief and placed a cruet with a thick purple potion before the Headmaster.
“What is this?” Albus asked.
“It is a mistake, sir. George and I -”
“You are George, Mr. Weasley,” Albus interrupted.
George Weasley blinked, but there was no other outward sign of surprise at having his ruse uncovered. “Right, sir. Well, Fred and I were working on a Befuddlement Draught as extra credit for Potions, and we let the base evaporate too much. It’s probably useless now,” he added just a bit too innocently. Alastor snorted softly, whether from disgust or laughter Albus could not quite tell.
“Extra credit research? I am sure Professor Snape was amazed to hear that,” Minerva repeated from before. Her voice no longer sounded remotely surprised.
“Ah. Yes, ma’am. Well, it isn’t actually for Professor Snape’s class. At least not directly.”
“Indeed, Mr. Weasley?” Albus repeated, his eyes alight. “If this isn’t school work, then what is it for?”
“Well, sir, Mum’s been after Fred and me to get a head start on a job after Hogwarts. What with O.W.L.s next year and all. Potions is a basic requirement for many careers. We just want to do the best we can.”
Minerva cocked her head slightly. “I see, Mr. Weasley. Very commendable. I will write your mother a note commending your new appreciation of classes here at school.”
George Weasley’s look of alarm and then his bland smile mirrored his twin’s reactions. “There’s no need, Professor. Mum’s not as young as she used to be. This could be quite a shock for her poor heart.” He finished with the same forced chuckle.
“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Albus said, handing the boy’s wand to him. “There is nothing more we need to ask. I will see to the proper destruction of this ‘accident’ of yours.”
“Oh… that’s all right, Professor. There’s no need to put yourself out, we can do it.” Alastor snorted softly again.
“It isn’t an inconvenience, Mr. Weasley, but thank you for the offer. Before you return to your common room, let me repeat what I told your brother. Cleverness is always appreciated, but when people are frightened, so is circumspection.” Albus fixed the boy with a stare. George Weasley met the older Wizard’s eyes and nodded as he rose from the table to leave. He took about three steps then looked back towards the anteroom door. “Your sister is not in trouble, at least not that we know of. There is a possibility she is slightly befuddled.” Albus’ comment caused the boy to suck in a breath, and then he continued towards the Hall’s main doors.
“Amazing,” Alastor muttered. “You know, if those two want the job after they finish here, the Auror Academy could use them to train interrogators. If we could crack them, Voldemort himself wouldn’t stand a change against us.”
“I don’t find that the least bit amusing,” Minerva groused. Looking down at the parchment before her she slowly shook her head. “I wonder about this one,” she sighed. “Albus? Let me take the lead with Miss Granger.” Albus was surprised by her request but nodded his agreement.
A young girl with a thick head of hair came out, staring like a proverbial deer caught in the headlights, and walked hesitantly towards the professors’ table.
With a tone that brooked no argument, Minerva said, “Miss Granger, sit down and place the potion ingredients from your bag upon the table.” The girl haltingly reached into her bag and placed four containers on the table.
Albus picked up each one, looked at them, and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Miss Granger, you are carrying powdered bicorn horn, boomslang skin, knotgrass, and leeches. Are you aware that these ingredients are used to make Polyjuice Potion?”
“Yes, Professor,” she replied in a small voice, not meeting any of the adults’ eyes.
“Miss Granger,” snapped Minerva in outrage, “for what purpose would you require Polyjuice Potion? A potion that is several years beyond your class’ level of experience, I might add!”
“Ah… well…” the girl temporised.
“Miss Granger,” Albus intoned gravely, “we have had a series of Dark Magic incidents. The use of Polyjuice can be considered incriminating evidence. I must know why you have these ingredients on your person.”
“We… I mean I was going to make myself look like a Slytherin student and ask about in their common room; about who they think the Heir of Slytherin is, and what he is trying to do against Muggle-borns.”
Albus and Minerva looked at each other in stunned silence while Alastor discreetly coughed. Albus nodded slightly to his Deputy, who promptly took the girl to task. “What on earth possessed you to think you could solve this problem! And to break into another House’s common room!? Have you taken leave of your senses?” she scolded. The girl blushed furiously and kept her head down.
“How far have you progressed in brewing the potion?” Albus asked, his voice still quite grave. Miss Granger looked up, and he peered intently into her eyes.
“We… I haven’t begun brewing it. I still need lacewing flies, sir.”
“Who is ‘we,’ Miss Granger?” he replied, still fixing her with his stare.
The girl paused and obviously struggled with how to answer the question. After a short pause she quietly sighed and said, “Fred and George Weasley and Neville Longbottom are helping me. But I’m the one who wants to do it. If this means detention,” she raised her chin defiantly, “I am the one who deserves it, not them.”
“There is most assuredly detention in this, Miss Granger,” Minerva said, angry disappointment in her voice, “and I will confiscate these ingredients.”
“But where…” The girl’s defiant expression fell. “Where will I get more? How will we find out who the Heir is? Someone has to!”
“You will not! And I strongly advise you, and your partners in crime, not to try,” Minerva snapped. “You are assigned detention every Saturday evening until the spring break. You will report to Madam Pince in the library starting this Saturday.”
“Yes, Professor,” she answered meekly.
Albus looked at the girl, feeling pride in her obstinate Gryffindor courage. “Miss Granger, the purpose for all that has occurred today is to resolve this crisis. We will find this so-called Heir and return the school to normal. The safety of all my students is paramount.” He placed the girl’s wand on the table before her.
“You are dismissed, Minerva told her curtly. “One of the Aurors by the entrance doors will escort you back to the Gryffindor common room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied with the same meek voice. She glared for a moment at the potion ingredients on the table, picked up her wand and her bag, and made for the Hall’s entrance doors. She turned around and hesitantly asked, “Professor Dumbledore, did you arrange for those books and magazines in the waiting room?” Albus nodded. “May I ask about one of them?”
Dumbledore smiled slightly. “Of course, Miss Granger. Which one sparked your interest?”
“The ‘Theory of Magic,’ Professor. I have never heard of it, it certainly isn’t in the library’s collection -”
“No, Miss Granger, I dare say it is not,” Albus interrupted. “The book is a theorist’s collection of essays, written in America. It is from my personal library, for the Ministry does not think this approach to magical education is appropriate.”
“Oh. Is it possible I can borrow it to read more?”
“Perhaps someday,” Albus said wistfully, “but not now, Miss Granger.”
The girl nodded, but her expression was puzzled. She hesitated again and asked Minerva, “What about Ginny? Is she in trouble?”
“Miss Weasley is not your concern, Miss Granger. She will be along shortly. Good evening to you,” Minerva said as curtly as before.
After the girl left, Albus felt Alastor nudge him and whisper loudly, “Isn’t she the one the portraits refer to as ‘Mini-McGonagall’?”
Minerva huffed and replied stiffly, “There is nothing wrong with one of my prized students applying herself diligently. I think some of the portraits are displaying an alarming amount of cheek!”
Alastor grinned, “My apologies, Minerva. I just think she and the Weasley boys make an odd combination.”
“Under normal circumstances, Minerva and I would agree with you, Alastor.” Seeing the Auror’s confused look, Albus told him, “She is the student who the troll nearly killed. It was the Longbottom boy and the Weasley twins who found her in a girls’ lavatory on Halloween of last year. Poppy told me that in another few minutes, Miss Granger might well have died from her injuries.”
Minerva nodded slightly, though she had a faint grimace on her face. “After that they became close friends. I do worry about the corrupting influence those twins have on the younger two. Breaking into another House’s common room! What has happened to her? I had planned on appointing her a prefect in a few years!”
Albus smiled broadly for a moment. “Since their friendship, I have noticed an increase in the cleverness and audacity of the Weasley twins’ pranks. I am not certain who is corrupting whom, Minerva.”
Alastor sighed sadly. “It’s good to see some of Frank coming out in the boy. I had worried Augusta’s um… dominating influence was not healthy for him.” He stood and stretched. “One left? Let’s get this over with; my poor bones tire easily these days.”
Albus nodded. “Kingsley, would you tell the last student to come out.”
A very petite and extremely pale girl appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. As the girl haltingly walked to the round table, Albus noticed movement from the Specialists on the bench. This put him on alert because they had remained still and quiet throughout the previous interrogations. The girl had obviously noticed some motion from the shadows, too; she glanced worriedly between him, his colleagues, and the shadowy back wall.
Albus told her to take a seat at the table. “Miss Weasley,” said Albus after she sat, “if you would empty your robe pockets and place the contents on the table.”
The girl looked at him in panic as she brought out a thin, old-looking, leather bound book and placed it on the edge of the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw the Lead Specialist lean forward on his bench, apparently focused on the red-haired girl’s actions. Turning his attention back to the worn book before him, Albus gave a puzzled frown as he reached over to pick it up.
“NO!” shouted the Leader, startling everyone in the Hall. Leaping from the shadowy bench, the Leader sprinted over to the interrogation table and ordered, “Don’t touch it!” More calmly it added, “If I may, Headmaster, I would like to examine this. Everyone please stay in your chairs.” The Weasley girl now watched the Leader in confusion, Minerva looked livid, and Albus realised that his worst case scenario was starting to unfold before him. By the pitch of the Leader’s voice, it sounded human, and rather young at that.
Albus sighed to himself while the Leader called its companions to join it at the table. As the other two Specialists approached, the Leader quietly informed all at the table, “This is definitely the same signature. But it is stronger than any of the others we have seen so far, except the dormitory room.”
“Will you require a wand for this?” asked the Scribe.
The Leader shook its head but softly told the Scribe, “We should make sure to look at this carefully in a Pensieve later.” Albus watched as the Leader slowly walked around the table, the cowl of its cloak facing the book.
After several circuits it stopped and spoke to the girl. “All right uh… Miss uh… Weasley?” She hesitantly nodded her head. “Miss Weasley, place your hands at the edge of the table. Don’t reach for the book or touch it.” The Leader circled the table again, only now looking from the book to her hands and her head.
“Okay, Miss Weasley —”
“My name is Ginny,” she said nervously.
“Ah. All right… err, Ginny. Open the book, but don’t pick it up.”
She did as it asked, and the Leader suddenly shouted, “No! Stop!” Miss Weasley flinched and pulled her hands back. A bit more calmly it said, “I uh… I mean that’s uh… good where you had your hands. Go ahead and put them back there.” After a long look at the girl, her hands, and the book, the Leader asked if she felt anything.
The girl sounded very worried as she asked, “Besides the table?” The Leader nodded. “No. What am I supposed to feel?”
The Leader did not answer her. Instead it told her to shut the book and pick it up. It then asked her to slowly bring the book towards her body, and then slowly place it back on the table. As she held the book to her chest, the Leader circled the table again, watching her and the book. It asked her to re-open the book and place it on the table before her, as if she were to read or write in it. When finished with these exercises, it again asked her if she felt anything and, no less worried than before, she replied that she did not.
Apparently satisfied with what it wanted to see, the Leader motioned the other two Specialists aside for another conversation. When they returned to the round table, the Scribe asked Ginny to rise and told the Tall One to escort her to the bench at the Hufflepuff table.
She started to grab the book, but Albus told her, “You must leave that here, Miss Weasley. There is something about your book that interests the Specialists. They wish to examine it without you in the immediate vicinity.”
She paused at this, panic written on her face. Looking towards the Tall One, she said in a fretful whisper, “This is my diary. It’s… its private! I can’t just leave it lying around!”
The tall Specialist faced her and replied, “No one will touch or open the book without your permission. Is that all right?” The girl stared into the Specialist’s hood and frowned slightly. Then she nodded haltingly.
The Tall One lifted her bag and accompanied her to the Hufflepuff House table. It sat her at the near end of the table, away from those Aurors still eating. In the meantime the Scribe and the Leader began talking to Albus, Minerva, and Alastor.
“There is clearly some sort of connection between that book and her,” said the Leader quietly. “When you reached for that thing, its signature expanded and swirled around you like a swarm of angry bees. The signature colours were a combination of Control, Bond, and Destroy magic. And dead flat, not a hint of sheen. I thought the thing was going to attack you.”
“And the girl?” Albus asked, looking towards the Hufflepuff table.
“There’s a different hue to the signature; totally Control and Bond, without a hint of the Destroy colour. It is possible the book might have initially attempted to attack her, too. But I sensed that it knows her; almost like there is a sentience about it. There is also a thread of magic that ties them, even when separated. It runs from the book to her head and chest. When she opened the book, the signature thread ballooned to a bubble surrounding her. It’s possible it overwhelms her when she opens it. She might not have any memory of that happening.”
The Scribe looked at Minerva. “Has she been ill? I haven’t the foggiest what it might be doing to her. It would help if we’re aware of any physical side effects. She seems normal enough, given the circumstances here in this Hall. I’d be nervous if our places were reversed.”
Albus listened with concern as Minerva related how the Weasley girl had grown lethargic and prone to a chronic cold since October. While as fascinated as any first year with the school and its magic, she had grown pale and withdrawn as the first term progressed. Minerva explained that she and the girl’s mother chalked it up to a bad case of homesickness. She also noted that Miss Weasley had suffered a severe bout of exhaustion after her return from Christmas holidays. Madam Pomfrey had been quite alarmed, and puzzled, when Miss Weasley flinched when touched during a routine examination. “Fortunately,” Minerva concluded, “a weekend’s bed rest and some Restoration Elixir seemed to solve that.”
The Tall One returned to the professors’ table. “Did you all notice the girl -”
“Ginny,” said the Leader with a weak laugh.
“- called the book her diary? Interesting.”
“Would that make a difference, compared to a regular book?” the Leader asked.
“Definitely,” replied the Scribe. “For young girls, they will use a diary as a personal confidante; write anything and everything into it. I can imagine, under these circumstances, she is very nervous about letting it out of her hands, let alone her sight.”
“Why not just take it and destroy it?” Alastor asked. “If it’s dangerous and Dark, she shouldn’t have it.”
The Scribe shrugged slightly. “If it is Dark and we destroy it, a magical backlash will probably occur. And then, if it is bonded with her, we would be fortunate if she were left merely insane. The effect would probably kill her. Is that what you want to do, Albus?”
Minerva went white and shook her head slowly. Albus sighed, knowing this was not going to get easier. “No,” he told the group. “Based on the evidence so far, we have to assume some level of possession. I will not be responsible for another student’s death at this school. If there is some way we can remove Miss Weasley from the book’s thrall, without causing her harm, then we must look at how to do so.”
The Scribe shifted its feet for a moment. “We will need to convince her that her privacy will be respected if we are to even attempt to take the book from her.”
The Leader looked in the girl’s direction and then back to Albus. “So, are there diaries that possess people?”
“Yes,” said Albus slowly. “Fortunately they are quite rare. They involve very complex magic and are always some manner of Dark Object. What does the signature’s… thread did you call it?” The Leader nodded. “What does the thread look like now that there is a bit of separation between her and this diary?”
The Leader seemed to peer at the diary and then slowly move its gaze toward the girl. “There’s a narrow thread still there. I don’t think she’s aware of it. It has a very strong Bond colour, and it, too, is dead flat. Another thing about this signature tying her to the diary — it’s similar to those we found on your Potions Master’s arm, the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and Professor’s quarters, the second floor bathroom, and the third floor corridor. There was also a faint bit of it in the Forbidden Forest.”
“Are you sure, are you certain, that this book radiates Voldemort’s signature?” said Albus, clearly troubled. The Leader once again shrugged its shoulders.
“I think he should talk to her,” the Tall One volunteered. As Albus looked at him quizzically, the Tall One told the Leader, “Win her confidence. Try to get her to tell you more about this diary.”
The Leader looked towards the girl, who was nervously watching the six of them, and then back to the Tall One. “You want me to talk to a girl? I’ve never talked to one before.”
The Scribe looked over at Minerva. With a humorous tone it said, “I can assure you the good Professor would disagree with you.” She glared at both of them.
Shaking its head the Leader replied, “Professor McGonagall is… is a Professor, a kind woman.” Pointing towards Ginny Weasley, it said, “She’s a girl.”
The other two Specialists looked at each other and chuckled. The Tall One patted the Leader on the shoulder then shoved it towards the Hufflepuff table. “Your elders need to talk for a while. Go over there and talk to her, make her comfortable. Just use your incredible charm. And if that doesn’t work… well, fake it!”
*******
The Leader reluctantly made its way over to the red-haired girl, who watched it warily. When it awkwardly sat down across the table from her, she scooted away from it slightly.
“Your name is Ginny, right?” She nodded hesitantly. It sat looking at her, trying to figure out what to say. “So,” the Leader finally said abruptly, “you look pretty young, do you actually go to school here?”
“Uh, yeah,” Ginny replied slowly, though her apparent anxiety was still present. “Y… you sound young, too.” The Leader said nothing in response but shifted slightly on the bench. “A… are you a boy?” she asked.
Ignoring her question, the Leader tried again. “Err, how do you like it here? I mean, I guess this is a good school, yeah?”
Ginny sat a bit straighter and answered indignantly, “Of course it’s a good school! This is the finest school of magic in Britain!” An angry flush replaced her expression of anxiety for a moment.
“That’s not such a big deal, is it? It’s basically the only major school of magic in Britain,” the Leader responded, slightly puzzled.
“Fine, then,” she shot back, her flush still in full force. “It’s the best major school of magic in Europe. And the oldest.” As though realising she was making a scene, she seemed to shrink back into herself. “I-I’ve been dreaming of coming here since my oldest brother started,” she finished in an emotional whisper.
“Was he the tall, red-headed bloke with the badge on his chest?”
“N-no, that’s Percy,” she replied with a hint of indifference that, combined with her awkwardness, the Leader thought odd. “Bill is my oldest brother. He finished here a few years ago.”
“Really? How many brothers do you have?”
“Six. Bill and Charlie finished and the others are -”
“Do you like your classes?”
The Ginny girl shot the Leader an annoyed look, her awkwardness lost to irritation. “It’s not polite to interrupt!” She paused a second and then nervously began talking. “Yes, I love my classes, actually. You’ve obviously met Professor McGonagall, and she is brilliant with Transfiguration. Charms and Herbology are also great. Did you know the History of Magic professor is a ghost?” The Leader shook its head. “Everyone except my friend Hermione - well actually Hermione is more Fred and George’s friend, but I like her, too - everyone thinks History of Magic is boring but-”
“Why? How could a history of your own kind be boring?”
“You’re interrupting me again,” Ginny snapped, but she didn’t answer its question. Instead she continued on as if it had never spoken. “The Defence Against the Dark Arts class isn’t that good though -”
“I should guess not! What with that blond ponce teaching it.”
“You are very rude, do you know that?”
“Sorry…” replied the Leader. “Err, I’m not really used to this.”
“Used to what?” she asked, confused.
“Well, you know… talking to… people… and, ah… to, err… girls,” he finished with a hesitant whisper.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “What?” she drawled sarcastically. “Is talking to girls against your religion or something?”
The Leader looked over at the table where the other Specialists were talking and sighed. With a pleading tone it said, “No. I am sorry, it’s just… this isn’t something I’ve done before.” The Leader looked down at the table top and drew in a deep breath. “I’m trying to make you comfortable.” Ginny huffed, but said nothing. “I… we want you to know you’re not in trouble or anything. You were given a card because I saw a Dark Magic signature about you.”
Ginny’s defiant attitude disappeared instantly. “I’m Dark?” she asked tremulously.
“Not you!” the Leader replied quickly. “It’s that book of yours that’s Dark, and it has a signature similar to several other places about this school. It’s kind of unusual, and I want to study it more before I can begin to guess why.”
“That’s my diary! You can’t just go looking about in it,” she answered, her worry evident by the tone of her voice.
“I know about diaries,” the Leader replied with an upbeat tone, pleased to add this reassuring bit to the discussion. “We… I won’t. Go looking in it that is. I give you my word. I just want to make sure it hasn’t harmed you, and so I’m sort of keeping people from touching it right now. You can - touch it that is - because it has a reaction of sorts to you.”
“Because I’m Dark?” She lowered her head and sounded close to tears; the Leader knew he was failing at making her comfortable.
“No,” the Leader said in desperation. “I am certain you are not Dark. You have your own signature, you know, everyone does. Yours is definitely not Dark.” Ginny looked up at the Leader when he told her that. “Make her comfortable,” the Leader muttered to himself.
“Why are you certain about me? How do you know these things?” Ginny asked, peering into the shadowed hood intensely.
“Ah… er… um…” the Leader temporised. “It’s a… it’s sort of a gift, I suppose. It’s not important for you to know.” With over-exaggerated enthusiasm it said, “So! The classes here are brill and all. You seem smart so I’ll bet you must be doing well!”
Ginny just stared at the Leader for a few moments. “Well,” she said, apparently deciding to follow its lead, “I did really well when I first got here. I mean magic is really interesting, what you can do with it and everything.”
“But do they teach you the how and why…Oh, I’m sorry, I was being rude again, wasn’t I?”
Ginny sniffed and nodded a bit, accepting the apology. Once again she began to talk, starting slowly and building to a rapid pace. “The portraits here all talk, you know. And they talk to each other a lot. The Gryffindor common room is guarded by a portrait! She’s called ‘The Fat Lady,’ which I don’t think is very nice, although she is sort of, well, fat. I asked her about that shortly after I got here, but she doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. She told me others are merely jealous of her ‘zaftig figure.’ Whatever that means. She’s not even English! She told me a family brought her with them from France about 200 years ago. They were running from the Jacobins, whatever they are. She was placed here because one of the daughters was sorted into Gryffindor, but was very homesick, so her family sent the Fat Lady here to keep her company. That’s why I like her so much, she understands someone being homesick and lonely. Well, the Fat Lady liked it here so much she asked to stay after the girl left school. The stairs move about, too, and it looks random, but my brother Bill said they are tied to the movements of the planet Mercury. I thought he was joking, but I read ahead in my Astronomy text and found a reference to a book that I went and found in the library, and sure enough, I can tell you when they are going to move and where to. I wrote Bill about that, to thank him for his help, and he was really pleased with me for looking that up. The ghosts here are really interesting. Sir Nicholas, he’s our House ghost, was in Gryffindor himself about five hundred years ago. He has a really horrid story about how he got his nickname, Nearly-Headless Nick…”
While the girl’s monologue rolled on, the Leader noticed both its colleagues glance its way from time to time. It was beginning to feel annoyed that the other two had managed to avoid being run over by this verbal freight train. It really wished she would just shut it, but it didn’t want to risk offending her again. So the Leader didn’t attempt to interrupt her, only making a ‘Hmm’ or ‘Oh’ sound whenever Ginny emphasised a point in her narrative. Just as it was wondering if she needed to breathe, she paused.
“What’s it like taking classes with people around you; don’t you find that distracting?” the Leader quickly asked.
Its question apparently took Ginny by surprise. She looked away, drummed her fingers on the table, then cocked her head and again stared into the deeply shadowed cowl.
“No. Well, sometimes it can be. I mean, it can be if you’re not careful, and the professors will give you detention for not paying attention in class. But I’ve been told that with friends you can study as a group. My brothers’ friend, Hermione, said it makes classes so much easier because one person will usually notice something the rest miss.”
“Do you have many friends?” the Leader asked curiously. “How do you get friends? Did you meet yours here, or did you know them before you came here?”
Ginny looked like she had been slapped, but she did not respond angrily. If anything, she seemed embarrassed to answer the question. “Oh, ah… I know another first year girl, Luna Lovegood. She lives near my village, and we played together sometimes before we came here. She’s in Ravenclaw, and they are all really smart. So is she, just she is sort of odd at times. Nice odd. She isn’t odd odd, or anything.” Ginny suddenly seemed very unsure of herself. “And a boy in my House named Colin, except he got… well… um,” she swallowed visibly, “he’s been… he got… Petrified. It happened just the day before yesterday.” Ginny stopped, sniffed, and heaved a great sigh. “Err… There’s a girl in my House, Hermione. She is smart too, and nice. But she is really a friend of my brothers, Fred and George, like I said. They’re twins, you know…”
After a long awkward silence the Leader asked, “That’s all?” Puzzled, it continued, “You sound very um… outgoing. What about the other people in your classes?”
“Well, my roommates and I don’t get along too well. And I am um… sort of busy. Tom takes a lot of my time. He is very nice and understanding, and very lonely. I spend a lot of time talking with him.”
“This Tom is a friend, then?”
“Sort of. I mean, yes, but more like a confidante, kind of.”
“Here at the school?
“Well… sort of. He told me he went to school here a long time ago.”
“He is an old man, then? A relative or something? I didn’t know you could have visitors here, but I guess Professor Dumbledore makes an exception for family, yeah?”
Ginny gave a weak laugh. “Oh no, Tom isn’t related to me, at least not that I know of. Tom writes to me through my diary. I can tell him anything, and he doesn’t care about not having money, or wearing old robes, or using second-hand books, or things like that. He’s very kind, or at least he can be as long as I’m good…”
The Leader turned to look at the diary on the other table and then peered silently at Ginny, long enough to make her begin to fidget.
“Look,” she said nervously, “I’ve told you lots about me, but I know nothing about you. How am I supposed to become comfortable with someone who won’t let me see their face? I mean, if you’re not human or something that’s okay. I just don’t really like talking to a shadow in a cloak. How would you like it?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary for me to reveal myself,” the Leader told her cautiously. “It isn’t necessary to know me just so I can study your diary -”
“Tom. My diary asked to be called Tom,” Ginny answered petulantly. “You’re going to need my permission if you want to look in there. That’s what you said. You promised! Since those are my private thoughts, you are going to need my help!” she asserted dramatically.
“You are willing to help me… us… to learn what this diary, this Tom is?” it asked slowly.
Ginny looked into the shadowed cowl and tutted. “If there is something in my diary that can stop these attacks, of course I want to help.” Her tone grew pensive and she continued, “I mean, one of my friends was Petrified by the monster. I don’t know what might be in there to interest you. It’s probably nothing. Just a waste of your time.” She wrung her hands and added fretfully, “But I would be crazy not to want to help, if I can help at all.”
“Ah… actually we hadn’t planned on anyone studying this outside of ourselves. But this dia… Tom… is yours, you know it best and —“
The Leader paused in mid-sentence. It looked back at the two other Specialists and then at Ginny. Almost apologetically it said, “Would you excuse me for a moment?” and went to Professor Dumbledore, motioning the other Specialists to it.
*******
Ginny watched as Professor Dumbledore waved his wand in a circle about him, and all sound from those with him ceased. Although she couldn’t hear a thing they were saying, it seemed that the three Specialists, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, and Auror Moody were in a furious discussion. She felt the blood drain from her face as the shouting and hand waving halted for a second and they all looked directly at her. They turned away and immediately returned to gestures, and whatever argument they were having, again. Dumbledore and the two bigger Specialists nodded their heads in some sort of agreement while Moody looked thoughtful. Ginny hoped she was not the cause for the look of fury on Professor McGonagall’s face. With another wave of the Headmaster’s wand, the privacy spell about the group was removed. Professor McGonagall, still fuming, along with Auror Moody and the two big Specialists, walked briskly into anteroom. The short Leader Specialist and Professor Dumbledore approached Ginny.
The Headmaster looked at her with an expression that was hard to decipher. It occurred to Ginny that if that expression were on either, or both, of the Twins, she would be running the other way as fast as she could. “Miss Weasley,” he said, “I understand you wish to help with learning about this diary of yours.”
Ginny nodded jerkily, not willing to trust her voice at this moment. She was excited but also frightened. Thinking of the Twins reminded her of their one bit of advice for her before she came to Hogwarts. Never volunteer for anything. Despite their irreverent manner, Ginny again wondered just how smart they were.
“I would like you to join us in the anteroom for a few minutes,” Dumbledore continued pleasantly. She started to object to leaving Tom behind when the professor added, “Please retrieve the diary off the round table and bring it with you. I understand you will be more comfortable with it close by.”
Ginny nodded again and grabbed the slim volume. She held it possessively to her breast and turned back to Professor Dumbledore.
“Excellent!” he told her. Ginny’s worries increased when Dumbledore’s smile did not reach his eyes. Something was very wrong here, but she could not figure out what. “Let’s go meet the others inside, then, shall we?” he added and walked towards the small room.
“After you,” the short Specialist told Ginny, and they followed the Headmaster into the anteroom. Professor Dumbledore stood in the doorway and told the tall dark-skinned Auror to guard the outside, letting no one near the door. He then shut the door and began casting privacy spells on the room’s walls, ceiling, floor, windows, and the inside of the door.
Watching this, and seeing the irate look on McGonagall’s face, Ginny grew extremely frightened. “Am I in more trouble?” she whispered fretfully.
“Quite the contrary, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore answered in a tone she thought was strangely calm. “My Specialists have convinced me that you can be of great value to our learning more about this diary of yours. It would not do to keep unnecessary secrets among fellow investigators.”
Ginny also thought it strange that McGonagall glared intensely at Dumbledore as he said this. Could it be that her Head of House was angry with the Headmaster and not her?
“Therefore,” Dumbledore continued, “it is our opinion that you be properly introduced to these Specialists.” Solicitously he added, “Perhaps you should sit down, Miss Weasley.”
“You’re not human, are you!?” Ginny said fearfully, a large knot growing in her stomach. She placed the diary on a desk top and sat in the seat.
The tallest Specialist turned to the other tall one and let out a frustrated sigh. They shrugged to each other, and the short one gave them a nod. As the tallest Specialist pulled a wand from a sleeve pocket, it moved to stand protectively before the short one. Passing the wand before the three hoods, the tallest Specialist said “Finite.” The other tall one was the first to drop its cloak cowl. It, or rather he, was a man of indeterminate age. Ginny thought he was fairly young, but the amount of gray in his hair and the general air of fatigue he radiated made her uncertain. She frowned, trying to place where she might have seen him before, but drew a blank.
The tallest Specialist lowered his hood next. No wonder his voice had sounded familiar! This man Ginny recognised immediately, after all Sirius Black was frequently interviewed on the WWN and seemed to be on the cover of every other issue of Witch Weekly. Being this close to him, Ginny realised how handsome he was and how brutally piercing those photogenic but cold grey eyes truly were. She nervously expelled a breath under his remorseless stare. And then, as if a switch had been thrown, the edges of his mouth twitched upward, and he winked at her. She felt as if she had passed a test of some sort and could not help but blush.
Sirius Black looked away from her and stepped back from the short Specialist. He gave the short creature - person! Ginny thought - a nudge with his elbow and it - he! - too lowered the hood of his cloak.
Ginny drew a sharp breath. The short Specialist was a boy. In fact he was a boy about her age. Looking at him, the first thing she noticed was the brilliant green of his eyes flashing behind a pair of glasses. She knew him, and she knew she knew him, too. There was something so very familiar about him as he quietly gazed back at her. But who was he? She studied his eyes for a few moments longer, and he gave her a wry smile.
An old memory came, unbidden, to her consciousness; the photograph of a young socialite with the same wry smile, glasses, and untidy black hair; his auburn-haired wife with those same captivating green eyes, and their baby boy. She remembered their story from her childhood; the story she had asked her parents to read over and over. She remembered other pictures in books and old paper clippings about the lost Potter family, parents murdered and their brave little boy so grievously hurt while stopping You-Know-Who. He had been the only person known to survive the Killing Curse; he had been The Boy Who Lived.
A jumble of emotions warred within her; confusion and wonder, sorrow and joy, fear and hope. She began to tremble, and her eyes teared up; this had to be some cruel joke, a hallucination of some sort! But Sirius Black was right there, and there were still wild rumours that the boy remained alive, never far from his godfather. Ginny's eyes shot wide as her mind finally accepted who stood before her.
With a startled gasp she cried, "You! But… but… you're supposed to be... dead!"
Chapter 3: The one with the power...
Author's Notes: A bit of back story to explain Wizarding Britain seen in the past two chapters.
31 October, 1981 - 11:49 pm
Albus Dumbledore stood at the edge of the clearing about the ruined cottage at Godric’s Hollow. An unsettling two days had ended with disaster. Emotions he thought men his age could no longer feel flooded him: uncertainty and cold fear when the Concutio Orb on his desk flashed to red; the uncontrollable tremor in his hands as he waiting for word from Hagrid; the bile in his throat as he learned of James’ and Lily’s fate; and the horror that whatever caused Voldemort’s Avada Kedavra to fail also left a fearsome scar on their orphaned child’s forehead.
Sirius, carrying a shrieking Harry, was arguing loudly with Hagrid about who should hold the toddler as Albus arrived at the shattered cottage. The only way Voldemort could have found the Potters was if their Secret Keeper told him directly. The notion that James’ best friend, Harry’s godfather, would betray them was beyond disturbing. Albus’ first impulse was to rip the child from the traitor’s arms and strike the man down on the spot. An immediate sentence to Azkaban seemed generous at the moment. Albus only refrained because he did not want the panicked boy to witness further violence.
However, the night’s surprises were only beginning. His knees nearly gave out on him when Sirius agreed to voluntary Legilimency and he discovered that the Secret Keeper had been switched at Sirius’ suggestion. Peter Pettigrew had betrayed the Potters. He was further surprised to discover that Pettigrew, along with Sirius and James, was an illegal Animagus. That knowledge would help immensely in the manhunt for the traitorous murderer. There would be time later for a long discussion with Sirius about the physical and legal dangers of being an unregistered Animagus.
Albus’ stomach turned again as he realised that Harry should have died along with his parents and very nearly did. One thing was horrifyingly obvious - the double-blind arranged by James and Sirius failed.
They had selected Peter as the Secret Keeper for Lily’s Fidelius Charm. To draw the attention of Voldemort’s spy away from Peter, they had allowed the Order at large to think the obvious choice, Sirius, was their Keeper. No one had suspected the unassuming Peter was Voldemort’s mole in the Order. Albus sighed wearily, realising all too well that prophecies cared not about minor things such as human duplicity.
The subject of the Trelawney Prophecy was now clear, even if it still remained unclear what it might mean. The Longbottoms were safe, and Harry Potter was, for all time, a marked man. Albus pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave off the sharp pain growing behind his eyes. Harry was a marked child, barely over a year in age. He looked over at a very wan Sirius, who was cradling the boy and attempting to calm Harry’s frightened hysterics as he called out for his mother. Hagrid had left them and cleared the cottage’s wreckage enough to recover the bodies of James and Lily. The half-giant had laid them under a nearby tree and covered them with a bed sheet when young Harry’s frantic cries became too ardent. Remus then moved Voldemort’s corpse to bare ground, away from his victims. Albus sighed again; this headache was not going to go away. He felt the burdens of everyone else’s choices come to rest upon his own shoulders as he pondered the disaster that had resulted.
Standing in the dark, figuratively and literally, Albus had one of the dubious flashes of genius that he prided himself on, though he was never sure where they came from. Voldemort was dead, but for some reason his soul had not passed on. Harry should be dead, but he was quite alive, and again Albus did not know why. If he had nary a clue as to what happened, then no one would know what happened, or why, and any story would be believed. His grand plan might still be salvageable, and everyone’s hopes for peace might be still achieved. Time was of the essence, he could feel that, so he strode briskly to Sirius, calling for Remus to join him on the way. He summoned a plate from the remains of Lily’s Welsh dresser with a negligent flick of his wand.
“We need to do everything possible to protect Harry,” Albus pointed out. Remus and Sirius looked at him, confusion evident in their eyes.
“I thought that’s what we were doing,” Sirius responded bitterly.
Albus shook his head, ignoring the younger man’s retort. “The Ministry will have to be involved in this. We have no choice. But they don’t have to know all the details of what happened tonight.”
Albus took the plate, murmured, “Portus,” and tapped it with his wand. He handed the plate to Remus and then drew a gossamer packet from a fold in his robes.
“I asked James to loan me his Invisibility Cloak last week. Take it now. This portkey will send you directly to my office at Hogwarts. Use the Cloak to cover yourselves and go immediately to my private quarters. The password is ‘Vivaldi.’ No matter what happens, remain hidden there until I personally come for you. If any portraits notice you, tell them they are to do and say nothing without my express permission. I will be along shortly to explain more to them.”
Sirius looked down at Harry, still fussing fitfully in his arms, then back to Albus. “How long will we have to stay hidden? Harry will need food, nappies, toys, and all the rest. Surely you aren’t going to keep Harry cooped up in your quarters for long?”
“Unfortunately, he and you must stay there for the next few days. I will arrange for more suitable accommodations, but it might take me a week to do so. In the meantime, I insist that you enjoy my hospitality. My personal elf, Blinkin, is sworn to keep my secrets. She can be trusted and will appreciate the challenges a young child can bring.” Smiling ruefully, he added, “I am afraid she chafes a bit at the predictability of an old man’s needs.”
Remus held the plate-turned-portkey tightly. “What of the three of us after several days’ time? Nowhere is safe now, is it? Where can you arrange a new home for Harry?”
“I have several ideas concerning a sanctuary for Harry but no time to think them through at this moment. As far as the Ministry and public will know, Sirius and Harry will be in the Americas. I need you, Remus, to help me track down and capture Pettigrew. Then you will join Sirius and Harry.”
“What?” Sirius hissed. “America? Why are you exiling us to America?”
“Harry Potter has defeated Lord Voldemort,” Albus replied drolly. “For this momentous act, the wizarding world will be quite grateful. There will be considerable rejoicing, I expect, and possibly a holiday declared — though I shall try to oppose that. Sadly, young Harry was gravely wounded in his battle -” Sirius began to interrupt but Albus held out a hand to silence him. “- and was sent to specialised Healers in the Americas. As his godfather, you accompanied him, looking after his best interests. That ought to keep the Ministry from making any custody demands on him.”
“Custody demands?!” Sirius half-shouted hotly. “Harry is my godson! He is my responsibility! Not some bloody bureaucrat’s!” His face flashed an irate look before he began to calm the startled boy in his arms.
“You may know that, but James and Lily never filed the papers because Voldemort’s supporters are rife within the Ministry. Without any proof, the next person legally entitled to raise Harry is his mother’s sister, his aunt,” the old wizard replied curtly.
Remus gave the older man a blatantly sour look. “Lily and Petunia were not on the best of terms. Her sister hates anything to do with magic.”
Sirius seemed, in Albus’ eyes, to grow the hackles and canine teeth indicative of his Animagus form. “I will not allow anyone to send him to her, Albus!” he growled. “You would be condemning this poor boy to a hell on earth! I truly will take him to America before I let that shrew get her hands on him!”
Albus raised both his hands and hoped he could placate the two men in front of him before their frustrations manifested themselves in something beyond angry words. They were running out of time, and if Ministry officials arrived before they were gone, all hope would be lost. “Peace, gentlemen. Unfortunately, you are quite right, and I understand only too well the source of Petunia’s displeasure. Given his aunt’s antipathy to us, there would be a strong case for Harry to be raised as a ward of the Ministry."
“This child will be hailed as a hero, a saviour — you must both understand that. The Ministry will definitely want to control the news about this. While I can delay Minister Bagnold for a time, she - or rather less scrupulous petitioners beneath her - will want to make this child a puppet for their agenda. The worst case is that a wealthy family of Voldemort’s supporters might arrange to buy his guardianship. I doubt Harry would ever he heard from again. With a modicum of help from you, I can ensure that won’t happen.”
“The true problem of the evening is what that body,” Albus paused to point at the withered carcass that Remus had dragged away from the house, “tells us – the simple fact that Voldemort is not finished. Voldemort’s body is dead, but not his soul. He will be relentless in finding a way to return, and this is far from over. Until I find out why he is not dead and how to strike him down for good, Harry is not safe. Not now, and certainly not in the future. I want him secreted away and kept safe. With you supposedly out of Britain, the Ministry cannot lay their hands on him. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, and you, Sirius, will have sole possession of Harry.”
“Albus, is this necessary?” Remus asked into the strained silence. Albus’ blunt revelation of Voldemort’s continued existence had obviously rattled both of the younger men.
Sirius warily added, “I thought we were clever with the Fidelius Charm, and with Peter as Secret Keeper. For Harry’s sake, I can’t afford to be that clever again!”
Albus suddenly felt as old and frail as his years suggested as the three men glanced, simultaneously, at the bed sheet over James’ and Lily’s corpses.
“I… Several pieces must be put into place,” Albus said. “I will need several days to work out the details. For right now, Sirius, Harry will be safe with you at Hogwarts. Remus, I will need you to be part of the search for Peter. We don’t know if he is aware that Harry survived or not. Either way I prefer him to be captured as quickly as possible. That takes priority over any other Order assignments. Pettigrew cannot be allowed to remain loose. And we are running out of time to debate what to do next. We can change details later, but if the Ministry gets here before you leave, we’ll have no say whatsoever in this matter.”
A soft Apparition ‘pop’ caused Hagrid to look up from his search through the cottage’s rubble as Albus and Remus, wands already drawn, stepped in front of Sirius and Harry.
Seeing the wands on him, Alastor Moody held his hands away from his body, palms open, and nodded at Albus. “Vigilance! Good,” he barked.
“What special preparations did you make for the Ladies’ Choice Spring Ball in your sixth year? And why?” Albus demanded.
“Damn you, Albus! That was almost fifty years ago.” Albus and Remus kept their wands trained on Moody. “Dancing lessons. I hired a private dancing tutor so I wouldn’t tread all over Emmeline Vance’s feet. Are you happy now?” Alastor spat. “Albus, what is your least favourite Bertie Bott’s Bean flavour?”
“Ah,” Albus grimaced, “that would be earwax. One of the reason I much prefer lemon sherbets.”
Alastor gave a half-annoyed and half-amused huff. His bemused expression turned to a frown as he looked about the scene of destruction: the blasted cottage, the two bodies laid neatly by a tree, and a third body deposited on the bare ground near where they stood. He stumped over to the third body and gave it a kick with his wooden leg. “That’s him, then?”
“More or less,” Albus replied after contemplating the question for a moment.
“It’s quite late, and I’m in no mood for your word games, Albus,” the Auror growled.
Albus sighed. “Neither am I, my old friend. Unfortunately that is the best answer I can give you for now.” Turning to the younger men he said, “Sirius, show Harry’s forehead wound to Alastor. I will need his cooperation regardless of what choices we make.”
“What?! Is this necessary?” asked Sirius in consternation. “I object to Harry being an item for display.”
“It is quite necessary,” Albus lectured. “This scar is part of the story and mystery surrounding the events that occurred here. Please show him the boy’s forehead.” Reluctantly Sirius pulled back the cowl of Harry’s blanket and turned him for Alastor to see.
The old Auror came up to Harry and peered into the blanket. “Mordred’s buggered arse! What the hell did that, Albus?”
“That seems to be the question of the hour. I have some rough guesses, but nothing I would consider worth discussing yet. Let these three be on their way. There is much for you and I to discuss that does not concern them. Yet.” Turning to Remus and Sirius with Harry he said, “You have accomplished all you can here. Wrap yourself in the Cloak and activate the portkey. We must keep Harry safe.”
Alastor stumped back over to Albus as the other men disappeared beneath the Cloak. “What do we really have here, Albus?”
“Pettigrew is the spy.”
Alastor’s head whipped up at that. “How did Voldemort get their location? Black was their Secret Keeper.”
Albus shrugged. “Black and the Potters tried a ruse. They told us Black was the Secret Keeper because that is what we all expected. Pettigrew was the actual Secret Keeper.” Alastor stared at Albus, totally nonplussed. “Yes, quite a nasty surprise. It appears James duelled Voldemort, but I doubt he or Lily ever stood a chance. We can discover some of what occurred when we get back to Hogwarts and check their wands for recent spells. I have no clue as to what caused the cottage to explode. Hagrid is clearing away debris to make our survey easier.” He and Alastor began to walk towards Voldemort’s corpse.
“So that’s it for him, right? We can all catch a breath before rounding up the scum who followed him.” Alastor waited a moment, obviously expecting an affirmative answer. “Well, Albus?” he prodded. “Right?” he finished insistently.
Albus looked him in the eye and slowly shook his head. “Try the Transitus spell,” he said cautiously. “Tell me what result you get.”
Alastor performed a series of short, controlled wand movements. He ended them by saying, “Transitus Animitus,” then he swiftly ran his wand over the length of the body. A faint red glow surrounded the corpse then faded. He looked up in shock and muttered sharply to himself. He re-performed the wand movements and words with no change to the spell’s glow. Peering sharply at Albus, he asked, “What am I doing wrong?”
“That is the same result I achieved,” Albus told him quietly.
The Auror pondered this answer. “His soul is still tied to this plane of existence? This body is dead, but he isn’t?” Alastor replied incredulously. “How can that be?”
“Alastor, there is much here that is a complete enigma. You are right, though. Voldemort is dead, or should be, but he isn’t. Harry is alive, but he shouldn’t be. There seems to be nothing to explain the destruction of the house -”
“Pr’fessor, I’ve searched ev’rywhere, but I can’t find You-Know-Who’s wand,” Hagrid interrupted.
“Where were James’ and Lily’s wands?” Albus asked.
“They wer’ holdin’ ‘em,” Hagrid replied with a catch in his voice.
“Where did you find this?” Alastor asked, pointing at Voldemort’s corpse.
“He were righ’ near,” Hagrid paused a moment to take a breath and let it out, “near Lily’s body, an’ where Harry was in ‘is crib.”
“Where was James?” Alastor asked the large man.
Albus saved Hagrid from having to continue answering the questions. His groundskeeper was obviously close to breaking from the emotional blows the night had delivered. “He was at the foot of the stairs. It appears he fought Voldemort in an attempt to allow Lily and Harry time to escape.” Albus noticed a grim smile flash across Alastor’s face.
“Might the wand have fallen out of his hand when the body was moved?” Alastor wondered.
Albus paused and reflected on what he had been told or had witnessed personally. “Remus didn’t say that there was a wand when he moved the body. Hagrid, did you see a wand when you discovered it?”
“No, Pr’fessor.”
Albus removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose yet again. This night was getting longer: each new discovery resulted in too many questions with no apparent answers. He thrust out his wand and waited a moment. When nothing happened, he muttered, “Accio Tom Riddle’s wand,” and waited again. Clearly frustrated with this turn of events, he whipped his wand in a circle, the tip glowing bright blue, and called out, “Accio Lord Voldemort’s wand!” He waited again, but nothing happened.
Alastor looked shrewdly at the older man. “Albus, who else has been here?”
“The Potters and Voldemort, obviously. Hagrid, myself, Sirius, Remus, and now you.”
Alastor frowned and stumped around. “Pettigrew is Secret Keeper, you say?” Albus gave a curt nod. “Then Pettigrew was most probably here with Voldemort. Any bets on whether Pettigrew took his Master’s wand with him when he left?”
“I need time to think,” Albus muttered impatiently. “Hagrid!” he called out. “Go to London and contact Barty Crouch. Tell him about this attack and that I ask for as many wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as possible. Also tell him I have already contacted Alastor about Auror assistance.”
“Righ’, Pr’fessor.” Hagrid turned away and called, “Tenebrus! We got a bi’ more trav’lin’ ter do.”
Albus felt the need to caution his friend, for he knew that Hagrid tended to let secrets slip when he was emotional. “Hagrid, say nothing about Harry other than he was hurt, he is in Sirius’ custody, and you don’t know where he is. The boy’s safety from this night on is worth more than my life, do you understand?” Hagrid paled at this then nodded slowly. “Return directly to Hogwarts after delivering my message to Crouch. Refer any questions from the Ministry to me. However, when you get to Hogwarts, brief Minerva on what you know. Tell her nothing about Harry, Sirius, and Remus, though. I will need the use of your hut for a meeting after breakfast this morning, when I will discuss what we shall do with everyone who needs to know. I want you, Minerva, Alastor,” he nodded to the Auror, “and Remus or Sirius. Preferably both.”
“Yes, Pr’fessor. I’ll tell them about the meetin’ and make sure no one approaches me hut wi’out yer permission.”
“Alastor, I assume you can be at Hagrid’s by … let’s say, nine?”
Alastor grunted an affirmative as he stared at the spell damage to the wall near the cottage’s stairway.
“I expect Crouch’s people and a group of your Aurors to be here within the hour. We need to make sure this area is warded against any Muggle interference. They have become quite ingenious at ferreting out clues to our world over the past ten years.” Gesturing about the wreckage, Albus said wearily, “I think, old friend, that we still have a busy night ahead of us.”
1 November, 1981 — 9:03am
A very pale Minerva McGonagall walked into Hagrid’s hut and handed Albus and Alastor each a vial of Pepper-Up Potion. “You both look like you need it,” she said acerbically. Her stoic features softened as she asked Albus, “Is it true, then, about Lily and James?” Albus nodded. “Harry survived?” He nodded again. “And,” she glanced about and whispered, “Voldemort is finally gone?”
Albus frowned and sighed as she sat at the table with Alastor, Hagrid, and Remus. “That is part of this morning’s discussion, Minerva,” Albus replied. Minerva frowned back at his non-answer. He chose to ignore her for the moment. Addressing Remus, he asked, “I take it Sirius is feeding Harry breakfast?”
Remus shook his head briefly. “No, Harry’s finally sleeping. We didn’t get him settled until about an hour ago. Sirius wanted to stay in case Harry woke up. It was a rough night for… for all of us I suppose.”
“Where is the boy, Albus?” Minerva asked. “All I know is he survived. How is he, really?”
Albus looked up sharply as a Proximity Alarm spell went off. Remus’ and Alastor’s drawn wands tracked an owl as it flew through the window and deposited a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table.
Minerva raised an eyebrow. “A tad late, isn’t it? The post owls were here almost two hours ago,” she commented.
“Not even the course of human events can alter the schedule of a newspaper, Professor,” Albus remarked wryly. “But there are events that can make even the Fourth Estate move out of their comfort zones.” He unfolded the paper, nodded grimly, and turned the front page towards his companions. An overly large headline proclaimed a special edition about the defeat of You-Know-Who by the young wizard, Harry Potter.
Handing the paper to Alastor, Albus said, “This is remarkably quick, although even by the Prophet’s low standards it is light on actual facts. Alastor,” he asked, “you do remember what you once claimed, at the height of this war?”
Alastor snorted in what seemed mild contempt. “You mean that I would retire and leave the Dark Wizard hunting to the ‘children’? Well… I suppose I’ll have to, won’t I? My word has always been my word.”
“What if you only retire publicly?” Albus asked pointedly.
Alastor sighed with exasperation. “Am I going to like this? Not all of your ideas are as great as you think they are.”
“Do you feel you still have skills to teach? Would you consider taking on some special pupils in a few years?”
“A private tutor? Depends. Would it pay well? Who are you thinking of? And why the wait?”
Albus pointed to the paper open on the table. “This is an important story right now. But I will see that there’s little in the way of new information coming out about Harry. In several days, I think, the news will be of him being sent to America because his injuries require specialised Healers not available here in Britain.” Minerva sat up with an abrupt start, but Albus waved at her to remain silent. “Sirius shall accompany him. Remus, you will join them as soon as you can. There shall be intermittent stories from America about Harry, all vague of course, but most sounding rather dire. If I place a few rumours every now and then about injuries from which he might never recover, it will further confuse the issue. As time passes, if I am any judge of the human attention span, the stories about a dying Harry Potter will themselves die out from lack of interest.”
Minerva leaned forward and prevented him from explaining further. “You’re going to feed the press some cock-and-bull story about the Potter boy and Sirius going to America? What if the Ministry finds out!? With You-Know-Who -” Albus shot her a stern look, which she ignored “— gone, the Minister may no longer allow you to play as fast and loose with facts as you have lately.”
“Minerva, I am not ‘playing fast and loose’ as you call it,” he snapped at her. “Voldemort is not dead -”
“What?!” exclaimed Minerva, glancing from Albus to Remus, who merely nodded. Albus saw his own weariness reflected in the young man’s eyes.
“Both Alastor and I performed a Transitus spell on the body. Voldemort’s soul has not passed on. I do not yet know what he is, but it is incorrect to assume that he is dead. If he is not dead, we can rest assured that he is already working on ways to restore himself. Voldemort’s actions last night made Harry the one to fulfil the Trelawney Prophecy. This information must never get out. Harry’s life is now of supreme importance for all our futures.”
“But Albus,” she paused and blinked. With a hint of desperation in her voice she began again, “He’s but a child, barely talking and walking!”
“You are correct, as usual, Minerva. But Harry will grow up. And he must be allowed to do so in safety. Even if Voldemort is not a direct danger today, his followers are. Some of them will not rest until their Master’s destruction is avenged. Remus,” he said, shifting topics quickly, “I want you to continue your theoretical work.”
Remus rubbed wearily at his eyes before meeting Albus’ gaze. Hesitantly he said, “Lily’s death will hurt us, Albus. Her ability to catalogue my research and connect seemingly separate causes and effects was nothing short of extraordinary. Don’t get me wrong, Alice is a great help, but she is nothing like Lily.”
Albus frowned as he thought of the implications from the man’s comment. Their research was, in some sense, vital to the eventual elimination of Voldemort. More than that, however, it held the promise to resolve many open questions and perhaps lead to an age without Dark Lords arising on a quasi-frequent basis. “Does this mean the Order’s efforts are now at a standstill?”
Remus shook his head. “No. But I cannot continue at the same pace as before… as before all of this,” he said, shrugging listlessly.
Albus sighed in response, acknowledging the point. “It is not the pace, Remus, but the quality of the research. I… I understand how this impacts your work. Lily truly was a godsend, but I think Nicolas and Perenelle may still have slight contributions to make.” He paused and smiled at the young man to take any possible sting out of his rebuke.
“We have time yet. Harry and Neville are still quite young. It is imperative that we move beyond research, Remus - that we begin developing a magical training curriculum for Harry and Neville. It is Harry whom Voldemort has marked, but Neville remains no less important in the Order’s research. It is unfair to Harry, but he is now our only weapon to truly defeat Voldemort when he returns.”
“Weapon?” Minerva asked uncertainly. Her lips pursed, and something dangerous flashed in her eyes. “Albus, what are you on about?” she said coldly. “Harry Potter is a baby, just barely a toddler. He is not some weapon!” Her anger was almost palpable in the small cottage.
Remus looked equally disturbed at the revelation of what Albus was thinking. “I’m still uneasy that you perverted the Order into your own private army, and I highly object to you using my research to create a weapon rather than to create a renaissance in magical education.”
“Peace, Minerva, Remus. We have known since Sybill’s prophecy that Voldemort’s end was at hand. Neville’s and Harry’s birth dates met the prophecy’s criterion. And now Harry has been marked as Voldemort’s equal.”
Minerva’s voice sounded sick. “Marked? What do you mean marked? You have yet to tell me how Harry is and if he truly was hurt.”
Albus sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose. With his eyes closed, he explained, “Harry is fine as far as we can tell. When he is awake again, I want Poppy to come to my quarters and examine him so we know for certain. However, Harry has a rather unusual scar on his forehead. A curse scar.” Minerva gasped in shock. “I have a rough idea of what happened - whatever caused that scar is what prevented Harry’s death and struck down Voldemort instead.” Opening his eyes and looking at her, Albus continued, “But I haven’t a clue as to why or how Voldemort’s curse rebounded. James and Lily were killed with the Avada Kedavra. Suffice it to say that I believe Voldemort tried to use Avada Kedavra on Harry, too, and now the Curse has one known survivor.” Albus pointed to the Prophet’s headline that blazoned ‘Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived.’ “Voldemort was struck down last night, but he was not killed. His soul remains tied, somehow, to this plane of existence.”
Growing agitated Albus explained, “At least one of his attempts at immortality was obviously partially successful. Voldemort will return! I cannot begin to guess how he will do it or how long it will take him to return, but Harry must be ready.”
Albus paused as another worry arose in his mind. “Voldemort might well think he chose wrong last night. If so, he will eventually go after Neville, and Frank and Alice. Aurors of their calibre really don’t need additional training in defense” — Alastor gave slight snort — “but Neville can not be left defenseless. Alastor, let’s wait a fortnight to be sure, but if things go well in rounding up Voldemort’s supporters I think we can lift the Fidelius Charm over the Longbottoms. Harry will draw public attention after last night, but Neville remains important. I must see what I can arrange to ensure they are trained together.”
Albus let out a sad sigh as he looked at Minerva and Remus. “You might find this hard to believe, but I sympathise with your concerns about the boy. Your wish for us to raise Harry in a vacuum, against what is coming, is noble but misguided.” Albus’ voice grew louder, “I do not wish to treat him as a weapon, but I do wish to give him every chance of success against what will come. That means that he - and Neville - must be taught starting the moment they know what a wand is. Is this clear?”
When only an awkward and unhappy silence reigned, Albus continued in a quieter tone. “Alastor, in a few years, I will need you to visit Hogwarts on a somewhat regular basis. You’ll be here to teach the boys, but no one must know that.”
Alastor shrugged once. “I suppose I could always cultivate an air of instability. You know, one too many Dark Curses I couldn’t avoid or some such rot. Maybe after a few years of roaming about as a crazy, washed up warhorse, I can come and go on my own schedule. No one will look too closely at ‘Mad Moody.’” He smiled as the potential of this cover story registered.
“Do you need any help with that?” Albus asked slowly. A twinkle appeared in his eye for the first time that morning. “I understand there are several wizards who think me a ‘bit barmy’ myself.”
Alastor snorted once in response. “Thank you for the kind offer, Albus, but I can manage ruining my reputation on my own. It will take a few months to clear up all my outstanding cases and submit my retirement papers. I’m sure Crouch, if not Bagnold herself, will want me to stay on for a bit and help my successor. I want to be absolutely certain my latest training courses are in place, with people I trust in charge of training new Aurors. That time table might change a bit if the ‘children’ have problems with capturing some of the worst of Voldemort’s followers. The LeStranges, Carrows, Selwyns, and Malfoys come to mind.”
Albus nodded, understanding that no one would be able to just drop everything. “Take your time, Alastor. Don’t rush things, as we have a couple of years before Harry and Neville are truly ready to begin.”
Alastor nodded absently while muttering mostly to himself. “So young… Start about age four? Start them off with hide and seek … simple awareness games… yes… vigilance first…” As the old Auror smiled, Albus had some hope that his plan was not as barmy as he feared.
“But Albus,” said Remus, “where will all of this occur? And Harry, where will he live? If any Death Eaters even get a hint that Harry is within their reach you know that they will come after him. There is probably nowhere safe in Britain.”
Albus smiled faintly and knew that everyone else would be dreading what came next. Sometimes his own brilliance surprised him out of a sound sleep. “Usually I would concur, but not today. Today, I differ. Hogwarts is the safest place for him -”
“No!” Remus cut in.
“I beg your pardon. No?” Albus replied, surprised at the interruption. “What do you mean ‘no’?” he said curtly.
“Oh, bloody hell, Albus! You have a Death Eater on your staff, Lucius Malfoy’s henchman no less. Snape -”,
“Professor Snape,” Albus corrected.
Remus sneered with disgust and continued. “- Snape has ties to the worst of the other Death Eaters. He has a history of personal animosity with anyone whose last name is Potter. Hogwarts was never safe for the Potters, even less so now. Sirius and I refuse to place Harry in such danger. Think of another plan, Albus!”
“Remus, if no one suspects he is even in this country, given our ruse about the Americas, then I don’t see the danger. Severus will not be a problem, I can vouch for him.”
“Sirius and I can’t, and won’t,” Remus snapped. “I repeat, think of another plan.”
“Hogwarts is not a nursery school, regardless!” Minerva interjected. “It is not adequately arranged for even our families, let alone an orphan and several guardians not attached to our staff. And Remus is right; despite our efforts in the past decade, this school is far from being a secure sanctuary. Need I remind you of what almost happened after Lily and Alice gave birth here?” she warned Albus.
Albus’ superior smile flickered as he remembered that near fiasco. Mentally shuddering to himself, he stood and looked out a window towards the castle. By the greenhouses a group of first year students waited for a Herbology lesson to begin. Their whole demeanour was different from the day before. To him they seemed a bit more… carefree… he decided as he studied their postures and gestures to each other. How to keep them and their children that way was his responsibility for the moment.
In a near perfect imitation of his History Master, Professor Binns, he began to lecture. “One of the things I have always enjoyed about Hogwarts is the plethora of towers that reach for the sky.” The others looked at him, puzzled at his change of mood. “Why, if a tower were to disappear, I doubt anyone would even notice!”
“What are you playing at, Albus?” Minerva’s cool tone made it clear that she was highly annoyed with his apparent tangent. “As you stated, we have much to do and little time to do it in. There is no time for the luxury of parlour word games.” When he turned to meet her gaze, he was pleased that her eyes matched her tone. It was reassuring to know that he could be right at times like this. “The castle has never lost a tower once one appears. And we haven’t had a new tower added since the Secrecy Act went into effect.”
“I really think, for once, you are mistaken, Deputy Headmistress,” he calmly responded. “Towers, towers everywhere. House common room towers, guest and staff quarters towers, astronomy class terraces, and those used by the elves for storage. Would anyone even notice if a tower disappeared?”
“Get to the point, Albus. Unlike some in this room, I have a class to conduct later this morning,” Minerva sniffed. Alastor looked up from his ruminations and chuckled.
Albus glanced at Alastor and then back to Minerva. He sighed.
“Quite right, then. Harry needs a place to stay, a place that is safe, where he can be nurtured. He also needs a place where he can be taught to understand who he is, where he and Neville can begin schooling under the theory of magic Remus is devising. I will arrange to Charm and ward the corridor which leads to the tower entrances in the castle’s rear curtain wall. I’ll place one of those towers under a Fidelius Charm. It is there that Harry will be raised, taught, and trained to meet Voldemort when he resurfaces.”
Remus sat bolt upright, sucking in a surprised breath.
“Albus!” Minerva snapped. “Really! This is too much. Harry is a child, James’ and Lily’s child! I cannot believe we are even discussing this - he is not a tool to be honed and used at some later date!”
“No Minerva, in this instance you are wrong!” Albus spat, surprising everyone with his vehemence. “Harry Potter is not ‘a child.’ For better or for worse, last night’s event makes him The Child. Were you not listening to me? Voldemort will return, bringing his darkness back with him. I don’t know how he will do it, or how long it will take him, but there are many ways available to him. To ignore this leaves Harry waiting to be slaughtered. Voldemort knows Harry is the one. Harry is the only person that can rid us of him.”
“But you are the one he fears -”
Albus barked a bitter laugh. “And I hope he is foolish enough to continue to do so. Last night Voldemort marked Harry and condemned the boy to be the only one who can vanquish him.” Albus paused a moment, looking at the castle. “I have monopolised enough of your time this morning. Alastor, you have other duties to attend to, but I shall be in touch. Minerva, you have your students to teach. Remus, let Sirius know that I will have the tower’s Fidelius Charm prepared by week’s end. When the Charm is ready, I will personally be the Secret Keeper.”
“No!” Remus snapped again.
Albus turned to the younger man, angered by his second, negative, interruption. “I grow tired of your poor manners, Remus,” he warned angrily.
“I grow tired of your thoughtless machinations, Albus,” Remus spat in reply. Even Alastor sucked in a breath at Remus’ impertinence.
Remus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “My apologies, Albus. I know you are doing what you think is best, but remember Sirius and I have lost our two closest friends, our family, and almost lost their child. If - and that is a big if - we agree to your plan, then Sirius must be the Secret Keeper. If you cannot agree to that, then there is no point in continuing to discuss these measures.”
Albus peered at the young man who had so bluntly challenged his leadership and wisdom. What he saw in Remus’ eyes was hurt and anger over the deaths of his dearest friends. They were among the few who had accepted him as he was. Albus also saw a fierce protectiveness for the one legacy James and Lily had left the world. Albus risked a brush of Legilimency, and that confirmed his suspicion. Remus and Sirius had anticipated his proposing something like this. They had agreed to accept only Sirius as Secret Keeper.
Albus mulled over this compromise. Agreeing to their demand would keep Harry close. It would keep Sirius, a loose cannon on a good day, close, too. Death Eaters feared Sirius as much as the Order feared his cousin Bellatrix. While Albus was loath to cede control of a situation, in this instance it was for the greater good. That phrase caused him to mentally shudder, but he knew it was true.
“I can agree to that,” Albus told Remus. He had to smile at the surprise in the younger man’s eyes. Clearly he and Sirius had expected more resistance. It felt good to know he could still keep people guessing as to his thoughts. “I want the three of you moved in this weekend while most of the students are distracted by a surprise Hogsmeade visit. There remains much to do in preparing an unused tower for long term habitation; I will explain more when we meet again, tonight after dinner. I propose bringing Filius into our plans. As one of two Charms Adepts -”
“There is only one left now, Albus,” Remus said with a slight hitch in his voice.
Albus sat, open mouthed and pale, for a second. In the rush of events over the past two days he had forgotten Lily’s tangible contributions to magical knowledge. Albus shook his head slightly; one twisted man had caused so much desolation.
“All the more reason to use his skills,” Albus continued, “the spells and Charms protecting Harry must be flawless. Filius is the only Wizard left in Britain for that level of Charms expertise, and he will be honoured to help Lily’s son.” He looked over at Remus, “Do you or Sirius have any disagreement with that?”
“Albus, Sirius and I agree to include him. Lily would be pleased that her mentor played a part in Harry’s safety.”
“Excellent! I will tell him about this personally. I think we are as far along as we can go for the moment. I wish you all a good day.”
Albus spent the rest of the day brooding in the solitude of his tower office. He brought out his Pensieve and reviewed his memories of the previous night, frowning when he realised there was little he had missed. He would be in touch with Alastor, Remus, Sirius, and Hagrid, gathering their insights and their memories for examination.
As far as Harry’s future was concerned, there was much to be done. He had the broad outline of his plan. All he needed were details and time. Harry was still but a child. A blasted child, he thought bitterly. “Damn you, Tom!” he snarled to the portraits about the office walls. Albus pondered his plan’s details; they, at least, were elements he could control.
There were no easy paths to choose - each had its dangers and pitfalls. The worst was to raise Harry in complete ignorance of whom and what he was. Remus’ and Minerva’s admonitions still rang in his ears, but he knew his original plan was best. As soon as he was old enough to understand, Albus planned to tell Harry what was coming in the boy’s future; to prepare him for Voldemort’s eventual return. In the meantime Albus would do all he could to learn what was needed to beat this monster and to determine how to pass this knowledge on to Harry. The existing methods of magical education would allow neither Harry nor Neville to grow to their full potential. He would have the original Order members, trusted people all, secretly train the two boys using the magical theory curriculum Remus was developing. The Flamels, Griselda Marchbanks, and Tiberius Ogden were already on the short list, but Albus began to ponder the benefits of Muggle learning as well as the deeply magical.
Remus’ work was more important that ever. That man, too, would have to be protected. He, along with Sybill and Severus, now had sanctuary within the ancient walls of Hogwarts. But the Potters and Longbottoms had not found that safety here. Was the Prophecy at fault? Would Harry actually have a safe haven now? Perhaps. If no one knew he survived, any doubts or rumours could become allies.
Minerva was scandalised by the thought that he “played fast and loose” with the Ministry. Albus snorted in ironic humour. She would be horrified to realise that he was “playing fast and loose” with Fate itself.
But back to the boys… Albus would see to developing tools which helped them learn to control magic from an early age without realising what they were doing. And at some point Albus would have to become directly involved with Harry’s training. Oh yes, in the years ahead there would be much work to be done.
Leviticus Brown for the Daily Prophet. Last night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attempted the latest in a series of nasty murders. He appeared at a cottage in Godric’s Hollow to kill James and Lily Potter, along with their one-year-old child, Harry. While successfully murdering the parents, the Dark Lord was apparently not able to kill young Harry. For whatever reason, You-Know-Who’s Killing Curse did not strike down Harry but destroyed You-Know-Who himself. Harry miraculously survived the Curse but was severely wounded and is now under close Healer care at an undisclosed location. James and his Muggle-born wife, vocal members of the resistance against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters, apparently thought themselves invulnerable to discovery, safely hidden under a Fidelius
Charm (see page five, Merlin’s Gift: Ancient Magics).
According to sources close to the Potter family, James chose his old friend Peter Pettigrew as the Charm’s Secret Keeper. Pettigrew, unbeknownst to them, is a spy for You-Know-Who and betrayed their location to him. Pettigrew remains at large and is considered extremely dangerous. In addition to his role in the Potters’ murder, he is also an illegal Animagus, taking the form of a common rat (see page four, Animagus Revelius Spell). Any sightings of Pettigrew should be reported to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement immediately.
When asked about Harry’s astonishing survival of the Unforgivable Curse, Albus Dumbledore, Wizengamot Chief Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts, said, “There is much that is unknown about what occurred last evening.” Besides noting Harry is the first known survivor of the Killing Curse, he declined further comment.
Minister Bagnold declared a holiday to celebrate the defeat of You-Know-Who by “The Boy Who Lived” (see story page three).
Milo Wonderwall for the Daily Prophet. In a surprise announcement, Minister Millicent Bagnold, together with Wizengamot Chief Mugwump Albus Dumbledore, informed the Daily Prophet Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was taken to America due to his substantial injuries. Silas DeVaux, Senior Healer as St. Mungo’s, added the wounds resulting from his valiant defeat of You-Know-Who were so extensive and unique that the hospital could not give the boy hero proper treatment. He was taken to the unplottable Healing Centre, known to the social elite as a place to take wizards suffering unusual or extraordinary spell damage. Sirius Black, scion of the Black Family and The Boy Who Lived’s godfather, accompanied the child to America. He issued a brief statement regarding his decision to travel with young Potter. “I will spare no expense to ensure the finest Healers and techniques are used to heal my godson’s injuries. If I can’t find them in Britain, then I will search the world.” (See page ten, Black Family “Toujours Pur”.)
Beyond the rumour of an unusually shaped scar on his forehead, no accurate report of the child’s injuries has been released, leading to great speculation about how much Dark Magic was used against the boy.
Leviticus Brown exclusive for the Daily Prophet. In a stunning turn of events, Peter Pettigrew, the elusive illegal Animagus who betrayed the Potter Family to You-Know-Who, was captured yesterday morning. Remus Lupin, a werewolf befriended by James Potter, found the traitor and called in Aurors assigned to the wizard-hunt. An intense duel, ending with a large explosion, occurred in Ipswich on a street packed with Muggles on their way to work. One Auror, Jacob Rit, was gravely hurt and Portkeyed St. Mungo’s for immediate Healing. Three other Aurors received injuries of various sorts which required overnight observation at St. Mungo’s. The werewolf was also hurt, but St. Mungo’s refused him admittance to the hospital. He may have received care at the Hogwarts infirmary, but the school has denied any knowledge of this. A dozen Muggles were killed too, and the street and surrounding store fronts were severely damaged. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement lead investigator, Deputy Undersecretary Cornelius Fudge, noted this latest confrontation with You-Know-Who’s followers is a major crisis for the Ministry. “This is a real budget buster, with so many Muggles to Obliviate. The paperwork is overwhelming, and I don’t know if the Exchequer can afford it!”
Head Auror Alastor Moody issued an official statement that Pettigrew was brought immediately before the Wizengamot for trial. Barty Crouch, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, found him guilty and sentenced him to life in Azkaban (see page five, Voldemort’s Followers Require more Dementor Guards). When asked if the werewolf infected Pettigrew, Moody replied, “Pillock! It was a new moon last night. Lupin is no more a danger than you, probably less. Go away!” (see page nine, Dark Wizard Hunter Moody: Past his Prime?)
The Daily Prophet Staff. This newspaper discovered, Remus Lupin, the werewolf who caught the traitor Peter Pettigrew, left Britain and joined his friend Sirius Black to keep watch over The Boy Who Lived. Harry Potter (see page four, The Potter Family Murders) was sent to a specialised care centre nearly a fortnight ago for injures suffered while destroying You-Know-Who. The departure of a second Potter family friend to maintain vigil over the boy is an ominous sign for young Harry’s health. Neither the Ministry not the Wizengamot responded to questions regarding the child’s condition.
Rita Skeeter exclusive for the Daily Prophet. The followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named continue his schemes of chaos and confusion despite allegations of his defeat and disappearance three weeks ago, British wizards are shocked to learn of a vicious attack two nights ago against the Senior Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom. They were brutally tortured at their home in Lancashire by Rodolphus LeStrange, his wife Bellatrix, his brother Rastaban and a fourth, as yet unknown, wizard. There is a major scandal within the Ministry linking this fourth Death Eater to a Senior Ministry official.
Other than an incident to further terrorise the public in the name of their rumoured missing Master, the purpose of the attack remains unknown. Since the reported defeat of You-Know-Who by The Boy Who Lived, most accused Death Eaters were apprehended or forced into hiding. Those noble Pure-blood families subjected to the Imperious Curse by You-Know-Who have been freed from their slavery to Darkness.
The Longbottoms were held under the Cruciatus Curse for an undetermined, but clearly considerable, period of time (see page five, Bellatrix LeStrange, the Dark Lord’s Favourite?). They were admitted to the Janus Thickey Ward for Long-Term Spell Damage at St. Mungo’s, where their prognosis for recovery is bleak (see page two, St Mungo’s Incapable of Healing The Boy Who Lived?).
Head Auror “Mad-Eye” Moody, himself recovering from a Dark spell that destroyed his right eye while attempting to rescue the Longbottoms, released a statement condemning this pointless attack. In a separate statement, Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, vowed not to rest until the remainder of the Death Eaters are brought to justice. Perhaps we shall see how close to home this vow extends.
Leviticus Brown for the Daily Prophet. One year ago tonight, You-Know-Who met his downfall attempting to kill The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. After ruthlessly slaughtering the young hero’s parents, You-Know-Who’s Killing Curse was reflected back on him by Harry, thus ending his rampage of woe and misery. Over the past year many accused of supporting the Dark Lord were brought before the Wizengamot. Those found to be free of the Imperious Curse (see page three, You-Know-Who’s Use of Unforgivables) are in Azkaban.
The year was not without tragedy, however. Respected Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom were tortured to insanity by several Death Eaters three weeks after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s fall (see page three, Longbottoms, Respected Aurors). This attack also severely injured Head Auror Alastor Moody and forced his retirement after so many years of selfless service. Sirius Black, whose cousin Bellatrix was leader of the Longbottom attack (see page six, Black Cousins: Family of Contrasts), has yet to return from his sabbatical in America looking after his godson, the grievously wounded Harry Potter.
Numerous Boy Who Lived sightings have been reported to this paper. Last month, Daily Prophet reporters investigated a possible sighting of The Boy Who Lived in Kent. We came upon Remus Lupin, the werewolf friend of Black and the late James Potter, while he was on holiday. Lupin had no comment when asked about young Harry and has since returned to America. Another rumour, first mentioned in a notoriously unreliable broadsheet, is that Stubby Boardman is, in fact, Sirius Black using an alias as he travels between private Healer Centres throughout Britain. The Daily Prophet caught up with Stubby at a concert at Leeds (see page seven, Muggle Band “The Who” Not Associated with You-Know-Who). In an exclusive interview, he told this reporter, “If I were Sirius Black, with that family’s fortune behind me, do you honestly think I’d bother singing for the likes of you louts?” (see page eight, Stubby Boardman, His Best Years Are Behind Him).
The lack of news about The Boy Who Lived has many wondering - how Dark was the magic used against the child, and is Harry even still alive?
The Daily Prophet Staff. Britain has been free of the dark cloud cast by You-Know-Who for five years tonight. On All Hallow’s Eve 1981, You-Know-Who attempted to kill Harry Potter and was defeated. In the past five years, many in wizarding Britain have grown concerned because so little has been heard about young Harry, once known as The Boy Who Lived. Flurries of Harry Potter sightings were reported for several years after his departure to the Americas for specialised treatment. There are still occasional reports, but none have been substantiated. The last supposed sighting was over six months ago in Kathmandu. Harry, if he remains alive, was rumoured to be undergoing an ancient Oriental magical remedy to remove remnants of Dark Magic.
Over a year ago, this paper investigated a report that Harry was imprisoned at Azkaban for trying to raise a Dark Army. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement denied any such thing (see page four, Barty Crouch: Pride Before the Fall). Their statement requested an end to idle speculation and asked if people really believe a child who, if he lives, would have been five years old could command Dark Wizards and Dark Creatures.
Two years ago Daily Prophet reporters investigated a rumour that Harry was living with Muggle relatives near London. When asked if he would answer a few questions, the boy’s uncle, an obese and unpleasant Muggle named Vernon Dursley, bellowed, “Get off my doorstep, you freaks! Leave my family alone, never come here again!” He then slammed the door in the reporter’s face. A routine check with the Ministry showed no reports of accidental magic occurring in the area of their Little Whinging house.
Both the Wizengamot and Ministry officially scoff at any rumours Harry Potter became a Dark Lord. However, when asked if Harry Potter still lives, they officially and, more ominously, unofficially declined comment, asking only that responsible reporting be used in regards to a child to whom we owe so much.
Sirius Black was in England a fortnight ago, opening a new St. Mungo’s ward for the research and treatment of magical maladies. Beyond his chairmanship of the Black Family Beneficent Foundation, and providing Witch Weekly with a steady source of gossip, little else has been heard from Black. Stubby Boardman continues to deny any association with Sirius Black.
In a stunning announcement, Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall confirmed Harry Potter, The Boy Who Obviously No Longer Lives, was not on the Hogwarts Express yesterday, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Young Harry, if he had survived the horrendous Dark magic used against him, would have turned eleven this past summer. Although his name remains on the School rolls and was called out at last night’s Sorting Ceremony, he did not appear. When asked what that meant, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore replied, “It means nothing. Harry Potter has done a great thing for us, and his name will always remain on Hogwarts’ Rolls.” Asked if his absence meant Harry was indeed dead, Dumbledore looked taken aback and responded he, personally, was unaware of any news of that sort. Ever the petty tyrant, he warned the Daily Prophet not to spread unsubstantiated rumours (see page five, Albus Dumbledore, Nearly a Century of Superb Service. Is it Time to Retire?). In a move thought to presage the Potter boy’s arrival at Hogwarts, last year Sirius Black took a seat on the School’s Board of Governors. However, other than carefully orchestrated charity appearances and idle social gossip, nothing has been publicly seen or heard from Potter’s godfather in several years (see page four, Black and Malfoy Families Top Wizard Philanthropic List for Past Five Years).
Despite the occasional, and vague, pronouncement about Harry Potter, Ministry and Hogwarts officials have yet to answer the ultimate question: if Potter remains The Boy Who Lived, why is he not at Hogwarts?
Harry Potter, the former Boy Who Lived, achieved well-deserved fame ten years ago last night with his miraculous defeat of You-Know-Who writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Despite countless young wizards and witches who continue to wish him well, the statement by the Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress that Harry did not come to Hogwarts sadly verified the frequent rumours of his death. Officially, neither Minister Fudge nor Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore will confirm or deny news of the boy’s passing. Mr. Lucius Malfoy did issue a statement on behalf of the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, “[T]hat idle gossip about Harry Potter cease.” The statement noted, “Ten years after the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it is time to stop looking over our shoulders. While Harry Potter has been the subject of numerous children’s stories and used as a beacon of hope for a new generation at Hogwarts, we know he succumbed to his injuries, and should allow him and his brave parents to rest in peace. They are a part of our past and there they should respectfully remain.”
In related Hogwarts news, a Muggle-born witch was seriously injured last night by a Mountain Troll that apparently found its way into the School through the dungeons. Headmaster Dumbledore released a statement saying, “It appears to be a student Halloween prank gone awry, and the school is conducting an investigation.” Mr. Malfoy, again speaking for the School’s Board, noted their concern that Muggle-borns simply did not have the basic magical knowledge required to attend the school safely. Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge, has long urged laws limiting attendance at Hogwarts to those with proven magical blood, as a way to prevent senseless tragedies such as this. The Board of Governors expressed concern with the Headmaster’s cavalier treatment of this incident, citing an increase in “pranks gone awry” over the past several years. Worried that Dumbledore is losing his touch, they pledged to take a closer look at his administration of the School.
Professor Quirinus Quirrell was found dead on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Professor Quirrell had assumed duties as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor this previous fall after teaching Muggle Studies for several years. This reporter learned the gifted young Professor was last seen after the first year students’ Defence Against the Dark Arts final examination. His body was discovered yesterday morning by the school’s Gamekeeper in the Forbidden Forest. Professor Dumbledore released a statement expressing sadness at the young Professor’s death. He noted Professor Quirrell seemed a bit off towards the end of the year. While this is a bit rich, considering the source, the Headmaster said he going to talk with Professor Quirrell over the summer break. As in other areas of his leadership at the School, he was a day late and a Galleon short. The young Professor was apparently killed by a poisonous snake.
Hogwarts Board of Governors spokesman Lucius Malfoy said, “This was a very sad year for our beloved School. Harry Potter was not aboard the Express in September, making certain the tragedy of his death. A Muggle-born student almost died because she lacked the magical skill to overcome a simple Halloween prank gone awry, and now a gifted Professor is dead due to a Dark Creature he should have been able to handle. While we have expressed confidence in Professor Dumbledore’s leadership in the past, the Board has notified the Headmaster that it is compelled to take a more hands-on role regarding his stewardship of Hogwarts.” As well they should.
Chapter 4: There is no "I" in Team
Author's Notes: Okay Phil, are you a bit happier now? :-)
RL and computer problems aided in the delay of this update. And the dog ate my homework.
Harry lowered the cowl of his cloak at Sirius’ prodding. The girl, Ginny, looked to his eyes first, which Harry thought unusual. What few magical outsiders he had met normally looked at his scar, and he smiled slightly at Ginny’s unique response. He watched silently as a myriad of emotions flashed across the girl’s face. After a moment, her eyes began to glisten. She glanced quickly at Sirius and then back to Harry. The last vestige of her confusion vanished, and her eyes shot wide open. "You!” she gasped and immediately blurted, “But… but… you're supposed to be... dead!"
Harry turned abruptly to Remus and Sirius. “Dead?” he asked incredulously. “You never told me I was dead! When did I get dead? You told me some rubbish about secretly moving from clinic to clinic looking for the right sort of Healer!”
Sirius flashed a sheepish grin and then stammered, “The whole uh… ‘dead’ story began to crop up some years ago. Harry, no one had heard anything about you, other than unconfirmed rumours, for a long time. It really gathered steam when you were not aboard the Hogwarts Express or at the Sorting Ceremony last year. We decided to… to let that story develop… by itself.” Sirius’ grin was now a weak smile.
“And how were you going to reintroduce me to the world?” Harry said, extremely annoyed at hearing this, especially at that moment.
“Oh… Ah… Moony old chap, had we actually thought that far ahead?”
Remus’ jaw dropped, and he slowly shook his head. “Padfoot, I thought you had that figured out!”
Hearing the two men use their Marauder nicknames, Harry warily took a step away from them.
“Well, you’re supposed to be the brains,” Sirius whined. He gazed at the floor, stroked his chin and tapped his foot, with what appeared to be deep thought. Suddenly he snapped his fingers, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. “We can have him just pop out!”
“I beg your pardon? ‘Just pop out?’” McGonagall asked, puzzled. “Pop?” she repeated slowly, still not comprehending. “Out?”
“Yes!” Sirius exclaimed enthusiastically as he and Remus nodded in unison. “Like one of those tarts who pops out of a cake as a surprise!” Sirius threw his arms over his head with a flourish, and they both began to snicker.
Harry stood looking between the staring girl, who was still pale with shock, and the two grinning men. His face grew hot with embarrassment, and he gave an annoyed groan. This really was not the time for a prank, even a minor one. Fortunately Ginny appeared not to have heard a word they said. Her wide brown eyes remained shiny with tears as she sought out the scar on Harry’s forehead.
Harry was thankful for McGonagall’s stern look, which stifled what remained of Remus’ and Sirius’ ill-timed humour. Dumbledore, too, gave her a nod of thanks.
Ginny’s stare refocused on Harry’s eyes. “This is real?” she whispered almost to herself. “You’re alive? You’re real?” She sobbed and wiped a tear from the side of her nose. Slowly shaking her head, she dropped her gaze to the desktop before her.
“He is quite real, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore told her kindly. “Miss Weasley,” he continued, “you must understand that Harry’s life remained in grave danger even after Voldemort’s fall. Some of his followers were as vicious as he. That fact was driven home by their attack on Frank and Alice Longbottom several weeks after Voldemort’s disappearance.”
Ginny looked up sharply at the Headmaster. “Longbottom, sir? Neville Longbottom is a year ahead of me. Were they related?”
“Frank and Alice Longbottom are Neville’s parents. He was left to be raised by his Grandmother. If he has said nothing to you, I suggest you not raise the topic with him. I doubt he would remember anything from that attack.”
Harry shrugged morosely. “All I remember are vague shadows, a laughing voice, and a green flash.”
Ginny’s ashen face paled further. She shook her head again and blinked back newly-formed tears. “But where have you been?” she asked quietly. Her face began to colour as she looked directly at Harry. “I’ve heard your story so many times. I’d always hoped to meet you someday.” Her flush grew as she continued on. “And then you weren’t on the Express last year and everyone said you were dead and I was so sad. I mean we are only a year apart and you are too young to die!” she blurted out.
Harry frowned in response to her outburst. “I thought we decided I’m not dead. Here, see!” He reached over and squeezed her upper arm. “I’m about as live as you can get.”
Ginny flinched in her seat and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Her pink cheeks paled immediately.
“I’m not offended,” Harry said with a casual wave of his hand. “It’s just a bit of a shock to find people think I’m dead.” He shot an acidic glare at Sirius and Remus.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and garnered everyone’s attention. “Miss Weasley, regardless of immature shenanigans, Harry’s safety has been of paramount importance for the past decade, and that is why he remained hidden. Even today there are those who would consider it a great honour to be the one who killed The Boy Who Lived. Not all of Voldemort’s followers recanted or are in prison. Some hold out hope for a return of their Dark Lord. On the other side of the spectrum, there are unscrupulous politicians who would like nothing better than claim to be The Boy Who Lived’s patron.”
Ginny looked puzzled for a second, and then her eyes grew large. “The Boy Who Lived?” she asked in awe. “Normal people actually call you that? I thought… I thought that name was only for the papers and in books.” She went beet red this time and then looked down at her lap. “I didn’t mean to pry,” she apologised again.
“Well -” Harry began, but he was cut off by Dumbledore.
“The popular press did, in fact, bestow that particular sobriquet upon Harry. They seemed to think that title summed up all that Harry is in one neat turn of phrase.”
“I know,” Ginny said softly, still staring into her lap. “Mum and Dad still tell us how grateful they were when You-Know-Who was destroyed.” Harry noticed she glanced up and stared at him again, but she ducked her head as he looked back.
Harry sighed with exasperation. “Yeah, well, it’s all dogs’ bollocks as far as I’m concerned -”
“Mr. Potter!” McGonagall said sharply.
“Sorry, Professor,” Harry replied, not the least bit apologetic. Ginny glanced up again, giving him a quick smile of understanding before ducking her head back down.
“So, Mr. Potter -” Ginny began, peeking at Harry through her shimmering curtain of red hair.
“It’s Harry, just Harry.”
She looked at him with a slight smile that reflected in her eyes. “Alright then, ‘Harry, just Harry.’ So you are alive… and I am not dreaming this. But why are you here now?” Ginny’s expression grew concerned. “It isn’t very safe right now, what with Slytherin’s monster about!”
“It was a matter of safety for the school over safety for Harry,” Dumbledore answered. “I do hope you noticed the disguises and separation from the students. These three, for a number of reasons, are my best hope to discover what Dark Magic is attacking my students. I must stop Slytherin’s monster before someone is killed.”
“So you’re here to kill the monster, then?” Ginny asked fearfully.
“Kill it?” Harry asked perplexed. “No, I don’t even know what’s doing the attacking.”
Ginny stared at Harry for a second and swallowed visibly. She looked at the desktop and touched the diary before her. Deathly pale again and still obviously frightened, she glanced at Harry and then whispered, “I think it’s me.”
McGonagall whipped around to look at her student in stunned disbelief. “What!? Why would you think that, child?”
Ginny started to tremble again and seemed to shrink even smaller as she wrapped her arms tightly about herself. She opened and closed her mouth several times before speaking in a barely audible voice. “Because… I don’t remember where I was during the attacks,” she stammered. “Because sometimes I’d… I’d wake up in a hallway, or out on the grounds near Hagrid’s hut. I’d always have rooster feathers and blood on me when I awoke like that, and I don’t know where they came from. Because I’m afraid I’m Dark. I’m afraid Tom is right, I’m…I’m tainted,” she finished, tears now tracing down her agonised face.
Dumbledore peered intently at Ginny and then shook his head, frowning.
Harry gave another exasperated snort. “I already told you twice you’re not Dark. Are you thick?”
“No,” Ginny answered in anguish. “I just don’t know what’s happening and I’m afraid it’s me who’s causing the attacks -” She stopped suddenly. “Wait!” She looked up and glared straight at Harry as she unfolded her arms. “Thick? Did you just call me THICK?!” she shouted with angry eyes. “How dare you! And just what makes you so sure I am not Dark, Mr. just Harry Perfect Boy Who Lived Hero!”
“Perfect Boy Who Lived Hero?” said Harry, affronted and confused by the girl’s instantaneous change from frightened to frightening. “What sort of tripe is this? That’s more mental than anything these two ponces ever came up with!” He pointed towards Remus and Sirius.
Ginny suddenly rose to her feet and actually growled. “Tripe!? You destroyed the worst Dark Wizard ever, while still in nappies mind you, and you call that tripe? Well I am sorry being grateful that I never saw the Dark Mark over my family’s house is so off-putting to you!”
Harry paused for a moment before replying, surprised that Ginny’s sudden emotions affected her magical signature and weakened the diary’s link to her. He mentally stored that for later reflection and snapped back to the here and now of this argument.
“Thanks for your gratitude,” Harry spat sarcastically. “I was only a baby and have no clue what happened, except my Mum and Dad were murdered in cold blood!”
“There’s no need to be rude, whether you’re disguised or not,” Ginny spat back. Her tone suddenly returned to a mixture of awe and wonder. “You have no idea, do you? No idea how… how… important you are to me. I mean to… to us.” Harry caught the significant glance Remus gave him at this statement. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing, maybe you’ve been travelling the world all this time, but your story always gave me hope when I got scared. I told Tom that when the attacks began last October. He used to tell me he understood…” she trailed off. Ginny seemed to realise with whom she was arguing and slowly sat, her head once again ducked down in embarrassment.
“Ah,” Dumbledore interjected into the sudden silence. “While I would normally enjoy a spirited discussion of Mr. Potter's worth to the Wizarding world, that must wait for another time. This diary of yours is our primary object of interest for now,” he said, returning the conversation to its original topic. “You are linked, somehow, with this diary, and there are similarities between the magical signatures of your diary and several areas of the castle that have known Dark Magic. These may, or may not, be related to the Chamber attacks, but I must investigate them. I think your assistance will be necessary.”
Seeing Ginny pale yet again, Harry gave yet another exasperated sigh. “It’s not you personally. There’s something odd as a nine-bob note about your diary.”
“Headmaster!” McGonagall snapped. “I must object! You have endangered Harry, despite my previous objections, and now you wish to involve one of my first-year students?”
Moody came over, looked at Ginny and addressed Dumbledore. “Minerva raises a good point. How will we keep all this secret, Albus? Just letting this girl know about Potter is a grave breach of security!”
Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he glanced at McGonagall and grimaced slightly.
“Don’t give me that look,” McGonagall lectured. “I have warned you for years about the danger of Harry’s accidental exposure to the world. Today could have been a disaster! However, I will admit that a gradual re-introduction to society is preferable to having him just ‘Pop out,’ as it were.” Remus and Sirius both winced as she scowled at them.
“Yes, yes. I completely agree, Professor,” Dumbledore replied, sounding relieved. “I feel it is also important that we have Miss Weasley’s active assistance with this investigation. To be sure, it is easier to just confiscate the diary and be done with it. But I prefer to do what is right.”
“My assistance?” Ginny asked with an astounded tone. “You’re serious about me really helping? I thought you only wanted me about so you could look at it. You three really need my assistance?” she continued, shock obvious in her voice.
“Actually, all of us,” Moody said. “You will be part of a team effort trying to solve this whole Chamber business.”
“There is some sort of connection between that book and you,” said Harry. “You don’t seem to be under the Imperius Curse -” Ginny’s face went white and, again, her eyes grew large, “- and without knowing more I don’t think we should try and break the connection. It could be dangerous to you. Dark Magic is never something to take for granted.”
“Miss Weasley, learning about this connection is as much your task as ours,” said Remus. “If we are to break this possession safely and completely we will need you every step of the way.”
“Possession?” Her voice conveyed a mixture of horror and disgust. “My diary possesses me?”
“Unfortunately, that is a great possibility,” said Remus.
Ginny stared at the slim volume on the desk before her. She lowered her gaze to her lap and began to cry again.
Sirius knelt beside the distraught girl and gently lifted her chin so their eyes met. “Miss Weasley, I am asking you to be brave,” he told her calmly. “I know you can be because I knew your uncles, Fabian and Gideon. You look quite a bit like them, actually,” Sirius said.
Ginny shook her head. “Mum told us how brave they were. I could never be that brave.”
Sirius gave the girl a sad smile and gently patted her slight shoulder. “I know they would be very proud of you, young lady. That is exactly the same thing they would have said.”
“Really?” she asked tremulously.
“Really,” Sirius answered confidently.
“Okay,” Ginny replied in a small voice, but she kept her head up.
Sirius nodded. “That’s a good lass!”
“Before allowing you to return to the Gryffindor Tower, Miss Weasley, I ask you to enter into an Adgnitionis Celare Charm. While not as powerful as a Fidelius Charm, it is never-the-less a serious undertaking. I want you to consider this for a moment before answering me. Only a select few know of Harry Potter’s existence, and most of them are in this room tonight. That knowledge cannot leave here unguarded,” he said gravely. Ginny blanched and nodded that she understood. “If you agree to enter into this Charm it will affect your life in that you will not be able to discuss what we do, or even that Harry is alive.”
“And if I don’t agree, Professor? What happens then?”
“Then I will elect to take the easy way, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore told her bluntly. “I shall Obliviate your memory of what has occurred since you sat at the table in the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall, Auror Moody and me. You will remember only that your diary was taken as a Dark object and you were returned to Gryffindor Tower.”
Ginny shrank in her seat at the Headmaster’s cold tone. She cautiously looked at the others in the room, staring at Harry the longest. “What if I agree and then try to tell someone about Harry? What if my parents want to know what I’m doing?”
“You will be incapable of answering them,” Dumbledore said. “Any attempt to talk about Harry to someone not under the Charm will cause your thoughts to be directed away from him. I know this will cause you problems, so before we finish you must have a suitable reply when asked what occurred this afternoon. Later we will develop a complete cover story so you can answer questions about what you are doing with a clear conscience. Professor McGonagall will be talking with your parents as part of the story, but not even she can tell them what is actually happening.”
Harry watched as Ginny sat silently for a long time. He knew she had to reach a decision without pressure for the Charm to take effect, and he was willing to allow her all the time she needed. Eventually, Ginny looked at him again, taking in his eyes and face. Her cheeks slightly flushed, she asked slowly, “If I agree to this, will I be allowed to help work out what my diary is doing to me? Will I be allowed to work with Harry?”
“Yes. Actually, that would be the point for you to enter into the Charm,” Dumbledore answered drolly.
She was quiet for another few moments, and then she gave a curt nod and said, “I’ll do it.”
Dumbledore leaned toward McGonagall and whispered something to her. She looked at Ginny and then whispered something back. Dumbledore smiled and nodded. He drew his wand and made a series of sharp movements about the room and its occupants.
He looked directly at Ginny and firmly asked, “Ginevra Molly Weasley, do you enter this Charm willingly, without coercion or doubt?”
Ginny grimaced, but she immediately answered, “Yes, Professor.”
“Ginevra Molly Weasley, do you agree to hold the knowledge of Harry James Potter, the hidden Hogwarts tower, -” she appeared confused at this, “- the true nature of our investigation into your diary, and the continued existence of Lord Voldemort -” now her eyes opened wide in shock “-to yourself, never to be discussed with anyone not now present in this room?”
“Yes, Professor,” she replied, sounding like she had carefully thought over each word before answering.
“Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you hold this secret, faithfully keep this agreement, and accept the burden of this knowledge until you are honestly released from its bonds, or until beyond your final breath?”
She swallowed and then said, “Yes, Professor.”
Dumbledore slashed his wand down to the floor before her, and a warm golden glow filled the room. Harry saw Dumbledore raise an eyebrow in surprise. Harry frowned as Remus, his eyes wide, gave Harry a brief glance. When the glow faded, the Professor’s face broke into its first genuine smile in several days. “Miss Ginny Weasley,” Dumbledore said, “it is my pleasure to formally introduce you to Mr. Remus Lupin, Mr. Sirius Black, and his godson, Mr. Harry Potter.”
Remus nodded his head to her while Sirius made a gracefully formal bow. Harry was not quite sure what to do. He had already been talking to her, so a formal introduction at this point seemed silly. However, he felt he had to do something, so he looked at her and gave a nervous wave. Ginny responded to Remus and Sirius with a hesitant curtsey and turned to meet Harry’s gaze. Blushing yet again, she returned his wave, giggled shyly, and said, “It is my pleasure to meet you, gentle sirs!”
Sirius clapped Harry across the back. “Alright young man, this is a proper young lady, so you will have to mind your manners now!” Harry saw Ginny giggle at this and rolled his eyes in response. “Professor,” Sirius continued, addressing Dumbledore, “I know Miss Weasley has legitimate concerns over us violating her privacy with the diary. I told her we will respect her privacy, but is there some way we can physically safeguard it, for her peace of mind?”
Her face sombre and once again pale, Ginny nodded in agreement. “I would appreciate that,” she added quietly.
Harry stared at her and idly wondered if her complexion always fluctuated wildly between full flush and alabaster pale.
“Excellent idea!” Dumbledore said. “But I need to think on how to do that. In the mean time… Blinkin!” he called. When the house-elf appeared, Dumbledore asked her to provide an array of sandwiches and drinks. After the food and beverages materialised atop a desk, he sat and appeared lost in thought again.
There was a knock on the anteroom door that caused Ginny to jump nervously. Moody drew his wand and cautiously removed the wards from the door itself. Kingsley peered in and asked what to do with the items confiscated earlier that afternoon.
“Hand ’em here,” the retired Auror said. “I’d like to examine them a bit more before they’re disposed of.”
Moody set the contraband on a table at the opposite end of the room from Harry. Remus, Sirius, McGonagall, and Moody began to cast diagnostic spells on them and talked amongst themselves about whatever they were discovering.
Ignored for the moment, Harry glanced at Ginny and saw that she had reverted to the scared girl he had first seen in the Great Hall. Remembering his task to make her feel comfortable, Harry pointed to the platter of sandwiches. “About time they thought of this,” he muttered to Ginny. “Would you like some? I mean, were you able to eat before? I’d be a jumble of nerves if I were you.”
Ginny shook her head. “No, my stomach was in knots and I couldn’t possibly have eaten. I feel a bit better and would like to try something now, if you please.”
“Sure.” Harry reached for the sandwich tray, but his oddly-long index fingers made it difficult to pick up anything. He huffed as he yanked the gloves off his hands. Throwing them to the floor he flexed his normal-appearing hands and sighed. “That finger disguise thing was just plain mental!” Smiling, he grabbed several sandwiches from the platter and dropped them on Ginny’s desktop before he took for one himself and shoved half of it into his mouth.
Ginny looked at the sandwiches dumped haphazardly on the desk and shook her head. “Might I trouble you for a napkin and a plate?” she asked with a trace of annoyance.
“Huh?” Harry grunted, now in the middle of wolfing down his second sandwich. Seeing Ginny sitting there wearing an impatient look, he felt his own cheeks grow warm. With one big swallow he cleared his mouth, placed a napkin on one of the plates, and handed them both to her. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Although she wore a blush that probably matched his own, Harry saw Ginny tilt her head and scrutinise him. “You really haven’t talked to girls much, have you?”
“I haven’t talked to hardly anyone other than the people in this room. Well, Madam Pomfrey - she’s a Healer - and some tutors Professor Dumbledore arranged for. Oh! I forgot my physical trainers, but they’re all Muggles. I guess Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey counts as girls, at least that’s what Remus told me.”
“Is that why you asked me about making friends?” Ginny asked curiously.
Harry looked down at his feet, embarrassed for some unknown reason. “Well… yeah. I mean I can’t really do something like that. You know… make friends.” He jerked his head towards the adults at the other end of the anteroom. “They’ve always been concerned about my safety. It’s like what Professor Dumbledore explained. Maybe someday I can begin to make friends, but for now I’m not even allowed to try. At least not yet.” Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “Maybe someday I can tell you about the umm… ‘yet’ part. It’s sorta complicated, and I’m not sure I’m allowed to tell you much,” he finished lamely.
“Oh,” Ginny said, sounding disappointed. “That’s all right. I wouldn’t want to do anything to put you in danger or anything.”
Harry kept his head down and replied in a defeated, flat monotone. “You wouldn’t want to be a friend? I thought…” Harry sighed again, “It’s okay. I understand.” He wiped his hands on his robes and shoved them into his pockets. “I’m probably boring company anyway.”
“You’d let me be your friend?” Ginny asked in amazement.
“No, really, it’s okay, I don’t want to bother you,” Harry continued.
“You don’t want me as a friend?” she responded, her tone suddenly disappointed.
“No,” Harry answered, still in a monotone. His head came up sharply as he heard Ginny give a wet gasp. “No, wait! I mean yes! I would like it if you were my friend. A lot. I don’t have any friends my age. You’d be my first!” he added excitedly. He watched her look up at him and saw another series of emotions flicker in her eyes. The last and longest, which Harry did not quite understand, was an incredibly sad look. She blinked away some tears and then gave him a smile that made Harry feel as if he was witnessing a bright, beautiful, sunrise light the whole world.
“I would love to be your first friend your age,” she told him. Her smile grew, if anything, still brighter.
“Brilliant!” Harry said a bit breathlessly. Then he sucked in a breath as he noticed how her signature had changed and was again pushing back the dark threads of the diary.
“What?” Ginny asked, looking suddenly nervous.
Harry shook his head slightly. “Nothing,” he said as he began a smile to match hers. “This is just so brilliant! So what do we do now? I mean you know more about being friends than I do.”
“Oh. Well… how about some pumpkin juice to have with our sandwiches?”
Harry nodded, still smiling, and reached to hand Ginny a goblet from the food table. He sat there with her, doing nothing but eating and drinking and having the time of his life because he was eating with his friend.
Harry had forgotten all about the Headmaster and was actually surprised when Dumbledore rose from his chair and whirled his wand at a double window. The panes opened wide, letting the bitter cold of a Scottish February night overwhelm any warmth provided by the fire. Harry shared a confused look with Ginny as he shivered slightly.
The other adults looked up from their conversation. McGonagall cast a quick warming charm on herself, and then with an exasperated tone she asked, “Albus? For the love of… What are you doing?”
The Headmaster ignored her, whipping his arm over his shoulder and pointing his wand out the open window. “Accio a Perspex sheet from the Fort William DIY!”
“Nice cast, Albus,” Sirius said with amusement. “I see you’ve been practicing for the Upper Tay Spring Salmon Tournament. Dedalus swears he will beat your catch by two pounds this year.”
Dumbledore looked over his shoulder at Sirius and smirked.
Harry caught Ginny’s eye and made a circling motion about his ear with his index finger. Ginny blushed slightly once again, but she giggled at his pantomime.
“Perspex?” Remus sounded thoughtful. “That’s non-reactive to magic. What are you planning to do, Albus?”
“An experiment, Remus. Hopefully some Perspex will be here soon.”
“Non-reactive? What does that mean?” Ginny asked.
“Certain spells, curses, and focused magical energies will not affect it,” answered Remus. “You can summon it, banish it, cut it, break it, and stick it; but you cannot transfigure it, conjure it, vanish it, or repair it if broken. The Department of Mysteries has been studying it for years without working out why.” He shrugged and gave the girl a small smile.
“Muggles are resistant to magic?” Ginny said in disbelief.
“No, thankfully, or we would have been in serious trouble hundreds of years ago. But somehow they have created a whole family of plastic materials that have some interesting properties,” Remus replied.
“Sir? Do Muggles know they have made something magic doesn’t affect? I thought they weren’t supposed to know about magic at all.”
“Do the Muggles know it is non-reactive to magical energies? That’s a good question, Miss Weasley,” Remus answered. “Although all living things have a magical core, Muggles aren’t powerful enough to do any magic outside their bodies. So it’s rather unlikely that any of them have worked it out.”
“How can someone only do magic inside their body? I mean what good is that?” Ginny smiled at Harry as she made the “crazy” pantomime. Harry gave her a confused look, not understanding why she made that sign. She frowned back when he did not join her joke.
“The conception of a life through an act of love is magic at its most profound, Miss Weasley, and it is a magic that all humans can perform,” Dumbledore replied.
Harry felt embarrassed for some odd reason. He noticed that Ginny’s face, mostly hidden by her flowing hair, was also flushed. He realised she, too, was embarrassed, but he still did not know why. Dumbledore had merely paraphrased a theme found in Remus’ Theory of Magic essays, but talking about reproductive magic was different somehow with Ginny in the room.
She did not seem to have anything else to say, and Harry did not want to continue the conversation, either. Finished eating, they had nothing else to do but watch each other closely without appearing to watch each other closely.
Harry trembled slightly from a blast of freezing wind and hoped the Perspex would appear quickly. Ginny, Harry noticed, was now shivering continuously. He, Sirius, and Remus were still wearing their full travelling cloaks, and the others had cast warming charms to stay comfortable. Ginny, however, did not seem to know the warming charm and was wearing only her school robes. The idea to lend Ginny his cloak came out of nowhere, but pleased him immensely. He removed his cloak and draped it about the shivering girl.
Ginny started as he placed it about her tiny shoulders, and she looked at him in surprise. “What about you?” Harry smiled and cast a warming charm on both of them. She gave him a once over before saying, “That’s a third-year charm! And a non-verbal spell is N.E.W.T. level magic! But… thank you,” she muttered self-consciously.
Harry shrugged. “What are friends for?” he said cheerfully. He knew why Wizards thought him a hero, and he understood the burden of that importance. Helping the world was his destiny. But Ginny was someone new, someone here and now, and he had helped her on his own. It was a new and powerful feeling, and Harry liked knowing he had done something for her and her alone. “I just wish I knew how much longer we have to stand here,” he added.
Moody nodded in agreement with that statement. “Albus, I am beginning to suspect you left your brains in the Pensieve again! If that piece of whatever hasn’t arrived by now, it never will. Miss Weasley is starting to look as if she’s been dipped in woad, even with a cloak and a Warming Charm. And if Harry catches another cold due to one of your schemes — need I remind you of Poppy’s last warning? After the past day or so, I’m sure Minerva would enjoy watching her carry out that threat!”
Dumbledore grimaced and redrew his wand, but then a plate of clear plastic sailed out of the darkness through the open window and settled on the floor of the room. Dumbledore immediately shut the window, and the fire began to ease the bite from the room’s chill. The seven Wizards and Witches stood silently, looking at the four-foot square by quarter-inch thick sheet of clear material at their feet.
Smiling like Christmas had come again, Dumbledore said, “We shall soon see if my experiment is successful.” He took his wand and began tracing lines in the air. When he finished, a three-dimensional diagram of a shallow box floated before him. “Oh dear,” he sighed in resignation. “I seem to have forgotten the hardware.”
Dumbledore started to open the window again, but McGonagall stopped him. “Must you to do that again?” she asked in exasperation. “What is it you need?”
“Hinges,” he sighed. “Hinges for the cover, and a hasp and flap for the front. I think a conjured lock would suffice, but the other hardware must be non-magical material for the sticking charm to work on the Perspex.”
McGonagall tutted. “Tavish,” she called out, and a house-elf appeared next to her. “The Headmaster is in need of some hardware for a box he is making. Are there non-conjured spare hinges and hasps anywhere in this castle?”
The house-elf glanced in askance at Dumbledore. “What size, Mistress?” he asked. His inflection implied that he thought the Headmaster making anything was a bad idea.
“The Headmaster has a diagram of the box he wishes to construct,” McGonagall replied in a tone that matched the elf’s. She pointed at the diagram floating in the air. “That is the actual size of the box.”
The house-elf examined the diagram from all sides and below. “Is Tavish allowed to make a copy to help the search?”
“Of course. That is very wise of you,” McGonagall responded approvingly.
The house-elf appeared proud of, and slightly embarrassed by, the praise from his mistress. He waved his arms in a circle around the diagram, and a transparent sphere the colour of parchment surrounded it. He pulled the sphere away from the diagram, and a perfect copy of Dumbledore’s box diagram remained inside. “Tavish will be back,” he said solemnly and disappeared with the sphere.
"Ah, well done, Minerva,” Dumbledore said. “I should have thought of that.” McGonagall tutted again. “Now then, let us see what we can do here.” He flicked his wand, and the three-dimensional diagram broke down into a flat set of lines. “This is my pattern to cut the Perspex.”
“Professor,” Ginny interrupted cautiously, “I thought you said magic wouldn’t work on this.”
Peering at the Muggle material, Dumbledore absent-mindedly repeated what Remus had said earlier. “It is non-reactive to certain types of magic, basically the Change, Create, and most Control types. It does, however, react normally to Bond, Break, some Control, and Destroy type spells. Quite interesting, really.” Looking at the grid lines faintly glowing above the Perspex sheet, Dumbledore smiled. “Marvellous! There will be material left over. I have always wanted some for my own personal study.” He placed the tip of his wand upon the sheet and ran it across the surface, cutting neat rectangles. A casual wave of his wand caused all but one piece to neatly form an open topped box with transparent sides.
“I have attached them with a derivative of the permanent sticking charm. The box is quite solid. When Tavish returns I will attach the hinges to the lid and complete the box.” Dumbledore took the box, with its top, and set it on the desk next to Ginny’s dairy.
She looked through the sides and ran her fingers along the box’s perfectly joined seams. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered in an awed tone.
A short time later, Tavish reappeared holding a single long hinge and a hasp and flap set. McGonagall smiled at the house-elf before he disappeared. Humming to himself, Dumbledore attached the hardware to the box. He opened and shut the lid several times before he stepped back, apparently quite pleased with himself.
“Two more items are necessary before we are finished.” Dumbledore vanished the remains of the meal and dishes from the desk near Ginny. He appeared to concentrate deeply as he closed his eyes tightly in concentration and mumbled unintelligibly. Opening his eyes, he made a complex series of movements with his wand and tapped its tip to the desk. A rather substantial scarlet coloured padlock appeared. He then traced a circle around the lock and tapped one side of the circle. A gold key attached to a gold chain appeared around the lock.
"Miss Weasley, this lock and key are yours. I request that you use them to ensure that no one has access to your diary without your explicit permission. Please test the lock and key. I am rather proud of their construct but want to make sure they actually work.” He gave the girl a wry grin.
Ginny went to the other desk, held the lock, and gasped in surprise. Harry looked to see what caused that reaction. Above the lock’s keyhole a set of initials, “G M W,” was engraved in an elegant script of inlaid gold. She reverently ran a finger over the initials and gazed at the key with its chain. “It’s beautiful, Professor, but it’s too much. I can’t possibly accept this!” she exclaimed with a troubled voice.
“You have agreed to trust us to hold your most private thoughts inviolate. There isn’t enough gold in Gringotts to repay that type of faith, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore replied solemnly. “Now then, would you please humour an old man and see if the lock set actually works?” he finished with a slight smile.
Ginny picked up the key, placed it in the hole, and turned it. With a solid click, the lock popped open.
Dumbledore took the chain and key from her. “This lock cannot be opened by any magical or non-magical means except this key.” He moved to place the chain over her head, but he paused. He handed it to Harry, instead, and said, “If you would do the honours…”
Harry stood before Ginny, almost touching her. He reached over her head and placed the chain about her neck. Ginny stared uncertainly at his chest, and he noticed her shudder slightly, but she radiated comforting warmth as he lifted her hair from beneath the cloak and over the chain. Surprised by the softness and weight of her hair, Harry thought she must have strong neck muscles to keep her head level. She also smelled… good was the best description he could think of. Sort of like a field of spring flowers. He pondered, briefly, whether to ask Sirius about that later. Beet red, Ginny closed her eyes and sighed softly as Harry let her hair fall over the back of the cloak.
“Ginny,” Harry said calmly, and her eyes snapped open. “Would you put the diary… um… Tom … into the box and close the lock?” Hearing Remus quietly clear this throat, Harry looked over and saw him mouth a word. Embarrassed yet again, Harry added “Please” to his request. Remus gave Harry a slight smile and a nod.
Harry watched as Ginny reached for the book, her right hand trembling as she picked it up. Holding it to her chest, she looked at Harry and the adults in the room. There was a look of panic in her eyes, and Harry looked closely for any change in the threads between the book and the girl. He saw none as she reverently placed the diary into the box and shut the lid. She swallowed nervously and closed the lock. Her fingers worried at the key on the chain around her neck as she stared at her diary in the transparent box. A look of resolve replaced her panic, and she dropped the key down the front of her robes. Ginny let out a big breath, and Harry was surprised to realise he had done the same.
“Excellent!” Dumbledore answered, very upbeat. “You have our word that your privacy will be respected,” he repeated and then looked at Remus, Sirius, and Harry, who all nodded in agreement.
With that, Dumbledore motioned to Remus, who began to speak in a clinical tone. “I think we must accomplish three things. First, discover what this diary is, what it does, and how it does it. Second,” he looked at Ginny, “we need to strengthen your magical resistance to the diary’s power over you, but I hesitate to begin this work until we know more about this diary and about you. Finally, we break the connection between you and the book. This isn’t something we can do tonight, Albus. This will take time. How can we work with her without raising any suspicion about our activities?”
Dumbledore regarded Remus with pursed lips. “How often would you need Miss Weasley to aid in the investigation of the diary and work to sever the possessive bind?” Dumbledore asked.
“At a minimum, I’m thinking two evening sessions and a whole day, say a Saturday, each week, would give me sufficient time to prepare her,” Remus replied.
“For how long?”
“Until we are successful,” Remus answered with a slight shrug. “I have no idea what it will take. I hope to give you a better answer in several weeks’ time.”
Ginny glanced at Professor McGonagall. “What about my school work?” the girl asked.
“Bring it!” Sirius cheerfully replied. “You can work on that, too, as well as our little problem.” Remus gave Sirius a warning glance with his use of that term.
“Are you sure she can have some time for normal studies?” Dumbledore asked Remus. At Remus’ nod he then looked at McGonagall. “Could Miss Weasley use additional tutor time?”
“I dare say she could, Headmaster,” McGonagall responded. “Since early in the fall term, Miss Weasley has not been working at the level I believe represents her true potential.” Ginny blushed again at this criticism from her Head of House.
“Excellent! Then, Miss Weasley, you will be serving detention -”
“Detention!?” she interrupted with a yelp. “I… I thought you said I wasn’t in trouble.”
Dumbledore smiled at her. “We will need some sort of explanation as to why you are away from your friends and housemates. You shall be serving detention with me on Tuesday and Thursday evenings and all day Saturday. That is what you asked for, correct, Remus? We will puzzle out what you do to earn this detention later. Today has already been long enough for you, I imagine. Your brothers expressed concern for your well being several times, and I believe they are most anxious to have you back safe and sound. Alastor? I would appreciate it if Kingsley himself escorted Miss Weasley back to Gryffindor tower.”
Moody nodded. “I’ll let him know right now,” he said. The old Auror moved towards the door and once again began to remove the privacy charms.
“I can take the diary and my bag, then? And my wand?”
Dumbledore produced her wand from his robe sleeve. “You are free to take your wand and your bag. The diary shall remain in my custody, as we discussed.”
“Oh,” she said, “right.” Ginny frowned at the book with its transparent case, sighed, and then took her wand from Dumbledore.
“Um…” Harry began uncertainly, “before you go, could I um… could I have my cloak back?”
Ginny looked at the cloak, still draped about her shoulders, and blushed deeply. She kept her eyes downcast as she slipped it off. “Sorry,” she said meekly, handing the cloak back to Harry. “It’s a nice cloak; it’s very warm and comfortable. Thank you.”
“It was um… my um… pleasure… actually. Not a bother at all,” Harry stammered, slightly pink himself, as he folded the cloak over his arm. “I guess I will see you soon?” He glanced at Dumbledore to get some sort of indication as to when they might meet again.
“I will arrange for us to meet in a couple of days, Miss Weasley. I will have some ideas for the cause of your detention by then. In the meantime I suggest you plant some indications that you seek retribution for the confiscation of your diary. If pressed about your activities this afternoon, you might claim you were rather extensively examined for traces of Peruvian Darkness Powder or possible Befuddlement.”
Ginny blinked and looked confused. “Professor, those are things the twins have. They would never let me near them!” Dumbledore grinned at her, his eyes twinkling brightly. Ginny blinked again, and a look of comprehension grew in her warm brown eyes. She began to giggle. “Professor, that is a mean prank,” Ginny said admonishingly. “I will be happy to play it on them!”
“Until later, then…” said Dumbledore, smiling.
“Bye, Harry,” Ginny said, now sounding reluctant to leave.
“See you later,” Harry responded.
“Professor!” Ginny asked suddenly. “How am I to know this wasn’t some dream?”
Dumbledore smiled kindly again. “The key, Miss Weasley. It tells you three things. Firstly, that your privacy remains under your control. Secondly, that you are key to our investigation of this diary. And thirdly, that all of this is real, and a part of this afternoon lies close to your heart.” Harry frowned at this last part, but Dumbledore almost always knew what he was doing.
Ginny touched her robes over her chest. She glanced quickly at Harry and then looked at Dumbledore as she nodded her head. “Goodbye,” she said wistfully. “I’ll see you soon!”
Sirius opened the door and motioned the girl toward the waiting Kingsley. As soon as the door shut, Dumbledore recast the privacy charms, and the six people in the room turned to look at the diary in its case.
“Should I open it now to see what’s in there?” Harry asked.
“Mr. Potter!” Minerva snapped for the second time that afternoon.
“Harry,” Albus replied slowly, “that lock is one of my finer bits of magic, if I say so myself. I doubt even I could easily overcome the guarding spell to open it. You could cut through the side of the case, but Miss Weasley would clearly know we had broken our promise to her.”
“We are trying to break her of possession by that diary, not of her trust in us,” Remus added.
“Oh,” Harry replied, abashed. “But I thought we could… Well, yeah… err… you’re right… I just, umm… well, sorry,” he finished meekly.
“I think,” said Albus, breaking the suddenly awkward silence, “we should retire to the Marauder Tower to discuss today’s events further. Alastor, when Kingsley returns, have him dismiss those Aurors not needed for guard duty and set the watch for the others.”
After Alastor left the room, Albus looked pointedly at Harry. “You’re certain the glow we saw after her vow was a Feynman Radiance?”
Harry and Remus shared a quick glance. “Yes, Professor, we are absolutely sure,” Harry replied.
Minerva’s eyes began to widen in surprise, and Sirius let loose a low whistle.
“Should… should…” Minerva looked uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “Should we tell her?”
Harry shrugged while Remus and Albus shook their heads.
“She wouldn’t understand, and it might frighten her. She has enough to worry about,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “Let us see how she progresses with her private tutelage. I did not expect great things from her, but if her force of will is that strong, we may be able to use her to our advantage. Shall we remove this to your tower?”
Remus nodded and picked up the locked case as Dumbledore began removing all the privacy Charms about the room.
“What about your spare Perspex pieces, sir?” Harry asked.
“Ah, yes!” Dumbledore said in surprise. “I quite forgot about those. Let me take them to my office, and then we will continue this evening’s discussions.”
Harry paced and watched Sirius, Remus, and Professor McGonagall engage in small talk as he waited for Dumbledore to join them in the tower. He stopped occasionally to stare silently at a table in the centre of the lounge, upon which the book sat in its case. The entry door opened, and Dumbledore huffed in, looking like he had run all the way from his office.
“We were waiting for you to join us,” Remus told the Headmaster.
“Alastor sent word that he returned home for the evening. I told him you would let him know if we discussed anything important,” Sirius said.
“Thank you,” Dumbledore replied with a deep breath. “I apologise for the delay; I had to try just one experiment on the Perspex.” Dumbledore flashed a sheepish smile and then became serious again. “Minerva and I cannot stay long ourselves. We still have the house common rooms to tour.”
Harry led Dumbledore over to a chair and, with a slight sigh of exhaustion, joined the adults taking a seat. Remus looked over to Harry with a warm smile. “I think you did well today, Harry. Sirius and I are quite proud of you.”
Albus looked at Remus and gave a slight nod to Harry. “As am I, young man.”
“I’m just glad to be out of that cloak and glove costume. How...?” Harry started to say and then thought the better of it and finished with a shrug.
“So, what do we have here?” Albus asked, looking at the diary in its case on the table. “Miss Weasley seems worried that this diary controls her and makes her Dark. She mentioned what sound like blackouts during the attacks. I looked to see if she had any memories from those times. I found none, as I expected, but I also discovered blackouts that occurred when there were no attacks.”
McGonagall drew a sharp breath and gave Dumbledore a fierce glance.
Apparently Dumbledore noticed her look, too. “Peace, Minerva,” he warned, holding up his right hand. “You know I will do whatever I deem necessary, regardless of ethics, to safeguard this school. What I discovered is quite disconcerting. The girl’s memory blackouts are not due to emotional repression. I saw absolutely nothing in her memories of those periods. She literally has dark holes in her mind. It is possible these blackouts are related to the attacks by whatever is stalking my school; how they might be related is a mystery to me. However, in lieu of anything else found today, I must accept that she’s the most likely suspect for our troubles. Harry,” he said abruptly, “how are these threads you mentioned in the Great Hall?”
Harry gave another small shrug. “They’re still there, no change, Professor. I wonder if the diary is even aware of its surroundings without anyone touching it or writing in it.”
“What makes you think that?” Sirius asked curiously.
Harry paused and stared at the book. “Well, despite the magic used in the anteroom it didn’t seem to react. Its signature didn’t change. Although… It seemed to sense you, Professor, when you got really close to it. When Ginny opened it, it concentrated on her. I don’t think it cared about anything else,” Harry shrugged. “I guess… I guess if that book is not aware of its surroundings that will make it easier to study. We can move it, you know, take it wherever in that case and it won’t know what is happening. That is good for us, isn’t it?” Harry continued to intensely scrutinise the book and its case.
“Professor,” Harry asked curiously, “you said there are diaries that write back to people?”
Albus gave Harry a slight smile. “Corresponding Diaries, yes. They seem quite popular with young girls. A number of them claim to be Helga Hufflepuff - those are rather popular in Hufflepuff House I am sure - and quite a few claim to be the Lady Guinevere.”
“Are there any that are boys?”
“Yes. They are not as popular because boys do not tend to keep diaries. Merlin makes up the majority of those. Oddly enough the next most popular for boys is Nicolas Flamel.” Albus’ smile grew wistful. “He was always amused by those. He kept a series of them for well over two centuries; said he enjoyed conversing with someone who completely understood him.”
“Can we can get a girl and boy diary? I don’t know whether this one’s signature is off or not. I’d like something to compare it with,” Harry said.
Remus replied, “Sirius, get one of each type tomorrow,” and Sirius nodded quickly.
Harry frowned again. “Is it normal for a girl to have a boy diary?”
“No, not usually. Ginny probably got it second-hand from one of her brothers,” Sirius said.
“Did any of her brothers act odd? How long do you suppose the diary has been in the family? I mean if these are supposed to be private, what’s the point of using someone else’s diary?” Harry noticed that the adults in the room suddenly looked uncomfortable.
Sirius sighed. “This past century has not been kind to the Weasley family, Harry. They were on the wrong side of a dreadful Muggle economic depression sixty years ago and lost all their Muggle holdings. Their standing with the Ministry and Order during the Voldemort Uprising branded them as blood-traitors and pariahs just when they finally began to recover financially. Many old pure-blood families also look down on them because of their large family. Aunt Druella caused a bit of a stir by having three daughters, so having seven children is… well, it’s considered scandalous. I suppose with five children at Hogwarts at one time, what money they do have is rather tight. They don’t have much in the way of luxuries beyond those handed down by their ancestors. But they are good people, Harry, a proud group.”
“And Miss Weasley is the first female Weasley in many generations,” Albus added.
“Really?” Harry asked, intrigued. “Is that normal?”
“For the Weasley family? Yes,” Albus answered. “I believe the last Weasley female was born in the mid-1800s. Records have noted the women all tended to wield their magic to the maximum extent. You will find the adjective ‘powerful’ used quite often in describing them. I was not joking when I told you Miss Weasley could not be Dark. Her Feynman Radiance is confirmation of that.”
Sirius chuckled. “Merging Weasley pride with a Prewett temper makes for a volatile mix.” He leaned toward Harry, grinned, and told him, “God help you if you ever brass her off, because the rest of us will be running for the hills!”
Remus cleared his throat. “Genealogy lessons for Harry are all well and good, but it gets us no closer to figuring out what that thing is,” he made a hand wave toward the table with the diary, “and how to break its possession of Miss Weasley.”
“Right,” said Albus. “In lieu of comparing it with another Corresponding Diary, what do you see?” he asked in an interested tone. “What does its signature look like? I do envy you your ability to see the magic.”
Sirius sighed softly. “We were worried for a while that even with glasses he couldn’t see properly, until he began to talk about the colours. It was another two weeks before we realised he wasn’t pranking us.”
Harry grinned self-consciously; this was a discussion that had been repeated many times over the past eight years. He looked at Dumbledore and said, “There’s just a very faint glow around things. I don’t really notice it from far away, but the closer I get the easier it is to see. And the stronger the signature, the easier it is to see.”
Remus added, “I was not sure if the colours were unique to Harry’s vision or not, but the colours in the training orbs matched Harry’s descriptions, so we went from there with that part of the Theory.”
Dumbledore said wistfully, “I wish I could see how the castle glows…”
“It’s kinda pretty,” replied Harry. “There’s a soft light that shines from everywhere. That’s what makes it so easy to detect Dark Magic,” he added with a shudder. “The colours are flat, no shine at all. It’s like… it’s like all the fun’s been drained away. It’s rather sickening if you ask me.”
The wistful look faded from Dumbledore’s face as he sighed. “You told us about ‘threads’ that link the diary to the girl -”
“Ginny,” Harry corrected absently.
“Ah. Thank you, Harry.” Dumbledore gave an enigmatic smile. “What do these specific threads look like?”
Harry turned and peered closely at the diary in its case. Slowly he followed the threads as they disappeared through the wall of the tower. “They’re the same as when she was at a different table in the Great Hall. It’s a mixture of blue and green. Sort of a 50/50 mix. But it’s so flat and dead looking. So… um… yeah… it’s the same as in the Hall and in the anteroom.” Harry shrugged, not sure what else to say.
“What caused you to call out so dramatically when I reached for the diary?” Dumbledore asked.
“Oh! When Ginny pulled the dairy from her pocket, the signature about her changed. The diary’s signature sort of concentrated about it, and the threads appeared. As you reached for it, it was like the thing sensed you — maybe, I don’t know, it sorta already knew you? Is that possible? Anyway, the signature swirled and expanded. The threads to her remained the same green/blue mixture, but a — a cloud I suppose — grew out toward you, swirling blue and orange. I didn’t know what it would do but… Well,” Harry shrugged again, “I thought it was going to attack you.”
Remus sighed. “There are magical ties to her head and chest.” It was a statement, not a question. He pursed his lips, looked at Dumbledore, and angrily spat, “Heart and Mind. Damn! I haven’t a clue what this is, but a possession like this will be very hard to sever. We must proceed very carefully. Albus, I imagine I will be spending a considerable amount of time researching in your private library.”
“I will send you anything I have on weakening a possessive spell,” Dumbledore replied.
Harry leaned forward in his chair. “Weaken it?” he asked with interest.
“That would be a first step, Harry. Breaking a spell like this all at once would cause mental damage,” Remus replied. “For that book to maintain any sort of connection at this distance means the connection is powerful and the damage would be severe. The fact that a thread leads to her heart, too, makes it all the worse.”
“Well…” Harry said uncertainly, “she did weaken the threads on her own several times in the anteroom.”
“When?” Dumbledore asked sharply.
“The first time I noticed was when she and I were arguing. When she got really mad and stood up to yell at me, both threads were pushed away from her for a second or two. A second time was when we… er… agreed to be friends, and again when I lent her my cloak. The thread to her chest was pushed back a little bit,” he finished, feeling his face grow warm.
Remus and Sirius shared a look Harry did not understand. Dumbledore stared, unfocused, at the far tower wall. He began to frown and steepled his fingers. His gaze focused on Harry, and his eyes began to twinkle. “And you are positive there are two separate threads?”
“Yeah. Within a few feet of Ginny there are two threads, one to her head and another to her heart… chest. I can’t really tell if there are two from this end, though.”
“Were there any other changes with them from the time the girl -”
“Ginny,” Harry again corrected absently.
“- Ginny,” Dumbledore responded with another slight smile. “Did you notice any difference with the threads from the time Ginny walked into the Great Hall until the time she left the anteroom for Gryffindor Tower?”
Harry now took an unfocused stare as he thought over everything that had happened earlier. Shaking his head he told Dumbledore, “I don’t think there was anything else besides the moments of weakening. I’ll look at my memories in the Pensieve to make sure and let you know if I do see anything else.”
“Not tonight,” Remus told Harry. “You have missed a day’s classes and had a very busy time to boot. I am going to cancel tonight’s Astronomy laboratory, but I want you to give me a list of your activities today that relate to your subjects and then call it a night. You have Arithmancy and your Transfiguration practical class tomorrow morning, and the afternoon is a full schedule for you, too. Tomorrow, after dinner, we will review our memories in the Pensieve and let the Headmaster know if we missed anything today.”
“I believe that is our cue to leave,” Dumbledore said, looking at his Deputy. “It is just as well. Minerva and I need to visit the house common rooms before we retire. We bid you gentlemen a good evening.” As the professors rose and made their goodnights, Remus rose to see them to the tower door.
“I’ll get Harry upstairs and start on that list of related experiences, Remus,” Sirius told the other man. He shooed Harry up the stairs and paused, waiting for Remus to reappear. When Remus returned to the lounge, Sirius called for Harry to come back down.
“I want you to give me a list of your activities today that relate to your subjects,” Sirius said in a nasal monotone. “Moony, you are such a swot. Harry, you don’t have to write any essays or the like on what you discovered today.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Harry said, relieved. “There was a ton of things we found.”
Remus sighed. “Padfoot, if you want to sound like an ass, let me help you.” Sirius started a retort, but Remus whipped his wand and all that came out was a donkey’s bray. Frowning, Sirius flicked his wand at Remus, and a pair of donkey ears sprouted from the side of his head. Harry began to laugh out loud.
“Laugh it up, Clown-Boy,” said Remus. Sirius flicked his wand and gave Harry pink curly hair, a red bulb nose, and huge clown feet.
“Hey!” Harry shouted in surprise. He swished his wand, and Sirius sprouted a donkey tail while Remus’ ears stood straight out from his head. Laughing and braying, the three of them cast a flurry of transfiguration and switching spells at each other until Harry called out, “Finite.” He glanced quickly about the room and saw that everyone was back to normal.
The three boys laughed a bit longer, but then Harry grew pensive. “There were an awful lot of Dark or dodgy things we found. That Potions Master was just plain creepy.” Harry paused a moment to ponder the disgusted look that passed between Remus and Sirius. “Are you sure I am supposed to be safe here? I know what you’ve told me, and it was bad enough with Voldemort sticking out of that guy’s head last year. My scar actually hurt several times. At least it whatever is attacking the students hasn’t caused it to hurt.”
Sirius shook his head. “The Slytherin common room and dormitories looked like a Hogwarts branch of Borgin and Burkes, only with a better quality and variety of items.”
“How would you know what the inside of Borgin and Burkes looks like? Are you holding out on us or something?” Harry asked.
Sirius snorted. “Oh, no. Mum took me and Regulus on little trips there every month until we were in school. Granted that was twenty years ago now, but I doubt the clientele or the merchandise have changed much.”
“Oh,” Harry replied.
“Remus,” Sirius continued with a brighter tone of voice, “what is that pillock Filch doing banning spell-checking quills? We could have saved a lot of ink ourselves if we hadn’t needed to list every one we found in the Ravenclaw rooms.” Arching his eyebrows, Sirius continued, “Ravenclaws are supposed to be the smart ones. Why would they need to check their spelling?”
“You always considered yourself a top student -” Remus said.
“Because I was,” Sirius interrupted.
“- and yet you sorely needed one of those quills. Still do if you ask me. How about the amount of things from Zonko’s in the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor rooms? It’s amazing what they have today! Can you imagine the things we could have pulled off it we had stuff like that? And now we know what happened to the Marauder’s Map! I wonder how those Weasley twins got their hands on it.”
Sirius chuckled. “The last I knew, Filch had grabbed it from,” his mirth died and he spat, “Peter. Not that we needed it for N.E.W.T.s or those last two weeks.” Sirius smiled again and sighed. A look of alarm flashed in his eyes, and he turned to Harry with a frown. “Just how did you know that Hufflepuff girl’s potion was an addictive love potion? And how did you know that stuff with the Weasley boy was Peruvian Darkness Powder? I haven’t even heard of Peruvian Darkness Power!”
“I cheated,” Harry said nonchalantly.
“What!?” Sirius exclaimed.
“I looked at the papers on their desks as we inspected the dorm rooms and saw sales receipts. I know what some narcotic potions look like, and I know what some love potions look like, so I put the two together for the Hufflepuff room. For those Gryffindor twins, there was only one signature that was new to me, and Peruvian Darkness Powder was the only ingredient name I didn’t recognize on the receipts.” Harry shrugged. “They were educated guesses.”
“Lily would have been so proud,” Remus said. “She was always very good with deductive reasoning like that.”
Harry looked at him, blushed, and looked down. “Thanks,” he muttered.
“However, young man,” Remus continued sternly, “how did you know that Slytherin girl had a vial of Veela essence in her bag?”
“Well… er… The same way I recognised the Centaur blood. I learned about it while studying magical creatures… right, Sirius?” he said hopefully.
Remus scrutinised Harry, who tried his best to appear completely innocent. Sirius was fighting a huge grin. “Good answer, Harry,” Sirius said and patted the boy on the knee.
“Hmm… Okay,” Remus said. “I was just wondering if Sirius needs to give you ‘The Talk.’”
“What?” Harry asked, confused.
“What?!” Sirius asked, in panic.
“Padfoot old chap, we have to realise Harry now has a girlfriend.”
“I do?” Harry asked, still confused. “Oh, well… No, I don’t! Ginny is a friend who is a girl. There is a difference you know,” he insisted.
“So you think there is something different about this girl?” Sirius egged.
“Ginny,” Harry automatically corrected. “She has her trouble with this diary thing, and she has a very strong force of will. That isn’t something you see every day, is it? I do… Well, I guess now is a good time for a couple of questions, yeah?” The two men looked at him and nodded. Sirius giving him an encouraging smile. Harry paused then continued haltingly. “When I put the chain about her neck, she sorta smelled… different.”
“Different? How?” Sirius asked with mild interest.
“Well… It was sort of like… I dunno…nice. She smelled a bit like flowers.”
“Ah,” Sirius said sagely. “You will, one day, find out that girls just like to smell nice. It is a… er… girl thing.”
“Well answered, Padfoot,” Remus grinned in an aside.
“The cowl of my cloak has the same smell, even after she gave it back to me. Is that some kind of charm?”
Sirius smiled at Harry. “Yeah, actually, it is a type of charm, but not necessarily a magical one.”
“Oh! She was rather warm when I was close to her, but she told me she didn’t know the warming spell. She told me it was a third year charm. Why would you wait that long to teach something to make you comfortable? Anyway, I wonder if it was a bit of accidental magic. But I didn’t see any spell signature. Did I miss something? Can you be old enough to come to Hogwarts and still do accidental magic?” Harry watched Sirius give him a close glance. He gave his godfather a confused shrug.
“No, Harry,” Sirius said after a moment. “That wasn’t accidental magic. It is similar to the charm of smelling good. Moony, you don’t have an answer for that type of magic in your Theory, do you?”
Remus gave an amused snort. “Padfoot, if I could explain that sort of ‘magic’ I would have more money than you and Harry put together. Not to mention always winning Witch Weekly’s ‘Most Eligible Wizard’ without even trying.”
Sirius looked at his friend and burst out laughing. “I dare say you would!”
“So,” Harry said slowly, “there is a sort of magic girls can use that makes them feel warm and smell good? Is that like what Veelas do?”
Sirius and Remus both laughed again. “For the right Wizard Harry, it is exactly like what Veelas do. There is also a third piece to that magic,” Sirius explained.
“What else?” Harry asked with a frown.
“Do you think Ginny is pretty?” Sirius asked.
Harry just looked at him, nonplussed.
“Sirius, now is not the time to start to teach him about that,” Remus admonished his friend.
“James wasn’t much older…” Sirius mused.
“About what?” asked Harry, who felt his face begin to warm again for some unknown reason.
“See!” Remus replied.
Sirius wore a disappointed grimace and mumbled, “Okay…”
“But you do need to get ready for bed, young man,” said Remus, changing the topic. “Sirius and I need to think about that thing,” he waved towards the table with the diary, “some more.”
“And Harry?” said Sirius. “You did very well today. Remus and I are extremely proud of you for finding the objects and handling the Weasley girl.”
“Ginny,” Harry corrected absently.
Sirius smiled. “Right.” He mussed Harry’s hair and said, “Good night.”
An hour later Remus looked up from a new essay he was editing. Sirius rose from an armchair and headed upstairs to check on Harry. Returning to the lounge, Sirius told him that Harry was fast asleep, but then he cast a silencing charm.
“So, Moony,” Sirius said with an overly casual tone, “what do you think of the Ministry’s latest addition to the Auror Corps?”
“I didn’t know there were any new Aurors here today,” Remus replied carefully.
“Ahem, yes, well… Scrimgeour let his final year trainees come for some field experience. That and he didn’t want all his experienced personnel here for what he thought a wild goose chase.”
“And your point?” said Remus, his tone still wary.
Sirius began to smile. “Nymphadora, Remus. I saw you give her the once over about a dozen times.”
Remus felt his cheeks heat up. He did not believe he had been that obvious. Sirius seemed to be taking the mickey, but Black family males were notoriously protective of their female family members.
“I hardly think an attempt at match-making is appropriate,” Remus sniffed. “Sirius, she is thirteen years younger than me.” Remus wondered how this argument would sit.
Sirius casually waved his hand. “What does that have to do with anything? Honestly, Remus, you’re far too dour even on your best days. Nymphadora is funny and can light up a room. I think she would be good for you.”
“I’m sure the rest of your family would be thrilled if she had a werewolf as a suitor,” Remus said sourly.
Sirius barked an ironic laugh. “The ‘rest of my family,’ as it were, are of no importance to us. You’re taking that new Wolfsbane Potion Belby came up with, right? I mean I can tell the difference in your transformations, and you’re not the least bit blood-thirsty anymore!”
Remus winced at Sirius’ cavalier description of his werewolf behaviour. “You know I don’t like to talk about that.”
“Yes, I know. We knew, and it never made one bit of difference. Knowing Nymphadora, your furry little problem won’t make a difference to her, either.”
“Huh,” Remus grunted. Changing the subject, he continued, “I was surprised and pleased with how Harry carried out his assignments today. There was certainly more Dark Magic here than I ever expected, and we hadn’t planned for him to mingle with anyone his age.”
“I hope this Weasley thing works out. It bothers me that Harry doesn’t have anyone his age to play with.”
“This girl is not a playmate, Sirius. We need to know everything she knows about that diary. And maybe I can try some of my magical education curriculum on her and see how she progresses…” Remus shrugged and went back to his essay.
Sirius was quiet for a few minutes and then let out a heavy sigh as he rose from his seat. Glancing up to see what caused the sigh, Remus saw Sirius placing a set of proximity alarm charms about the diary and table.
Softly, Remus said, “Good idea, old friend. That thing scares me, too.”
Sirius looked at Remus and, with a worried voice, asked, “Just what the effing hell is that thing?”
Remus could only look back and frown in reply.
Ginny Weasley petulantly stomped down to the Great Hall for Saturday lunch. Taking Professor Dumbledore’s direction to heart, she had returned from her questioning in the Great Hall skittish and snapping at anyone who crossed her path. She also managed to be ever so disrespectful to Professor McGonagall. After Percy delivered what seemed like his one hundredth warning about respect for professors, he experienced his first Bat Bogey Hex. Taking pity on her pedantic brother, she lifted the spell after about half a minute. Unfortunately for Percy, he immediately lectured her on duelling and attacking a prefect, and then he took five points from Gryffindor. Ginny retorted, “Make it ten!” and re-hexed him. She decided this time to storm off and let the spell fade on its own, knowing that might take up to an hour when she was really angry. By Saturday morning even Fred and George carefully gauged Ginny’s mood before coming within ten feet of her.
In reality the past two days had been pure torture for Ginny. She had grown up in a large and rambunctious family and never had a reason to feel lonely or abandoned. Then Ron left for Hogwarts the previous year, and she found herself alone for the first time in her life. Her coming to school had done nothing to ease her sense of isolation. Her brothers all had their own sets of friends and almost never included her in anything anymore. On the rare occasion when they had asked her to join them, she felt like a little tag-along. It was just so embarrassing. Also, Tom needed so much time that Ginny made few of her own friends at school. She was not close to her roommates, two of whom looked down on her second hand robes and whispered about her “blood-traitor” status.
Now even Tom was gone, and Ginny ached to have him back. If it were not for the key and chain about her neck, she thought she would have been in the Mental Ward at St. Mungo’s. That first night back in the common room she had fingered the key through her robes so much that Hermione asked if she was scratching some rash. Ginny’s cheeks warmed as she remembered her full-bloom flush when Hermione then asked if she was uncomfortable ‘there’ because she was - you know - ‘changing’. She had taken to wearing the key and chain beneath her camisole. It kept the key from the prying eyes of her roommates, who would notice it easily, and it allowed her to constantly feel the one thing that reminded her she really had met Harry Potter.
Tomorrow would be St. Valentine’s Day, and she wondered if Harry would appreciate a card from her. Ginny decided to see Professor McGonagall after lunch and ask if the Professor would deliver a card to Harry. A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions whipped through her mind as she pondered how many cards he got. After all, he was Harry Potter! Despite the news of his death last year, Witch Weekly reported that Britain’s owl post system was sorely stretched to carry all the Valentine cards addressed to “The Boy Who Lived.” It would surely be the same this year. Hers would probably be lost in the loads of cards he received. On top of that she was going to have to make one; she blushed again because she did not have the money to buy a proper card. Perhaps it was just as well hers would be missed in the mass of owls he always received. “Still, it’s the thought that counts,” she muttered to herself.
But then, she thought, he had been living in secret for many years. What if he had never received any of the cards? An overwhelming wave of sadness filled her again. He seemed so nice, and yet so lonely, too. She mentally sighed. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Ginny pondered a poem that she had always wanted to give him. She would change it a bit; after all, he was a friend — a friend! — and not the object of some girlish crush. A smile formed on her face as the words began to sort themselves out, and she decided to work on the card after lunch.
That was how Ginny found herself sitting alone for the noon meal, because no other Gryffindor wanted to sit close enough to risk guilt by association. Professor McGonagall, and probably Percy too, had owled Mum about her new-found disrespect toward the school’s Professors. Her Mum’s Howler that morning had put the fear of God in everything within two miles of Hogwarts. Ginny was secretly pleased by the Twin’s new look of respect. The thunderous echoes had barely finished when she had made a show of clearing her ears and went back to her eggs and toast. Now she fixed a lunchtime sandwich as Professor McGonagall left the staff table and approached her.
The Professor’s tone was clipped and cool. “Miss Weasley, I want to see you in my office when you have finished eating.”
Ginny’s replied, barely on the proper side of respect, “I’m looking forward to it, ma’am.”
A half an hour later she stood before the office door for her Head of House. Ginny questioned her show of bravado when she had continued to eat her sandwich as if she had not a care in the world. That sandwich now sat heavily and uneasily in her stomach. She pressed the key against her chest once more, straightened her robes, and knocked firmly on the door.
A curt, “Enter,” sounded from within.
Ginny opened the door and walked into Professor McGonagall’s office. With a slightly insolent drawl she said, “You wished to see me, Professor?”
Sitting behind her desk, McGonagall said, “Shut the door,” in a tone that brooked no argument.
Ginny closed the door a little harder than necessary and moved toward the chair before the Professor’s desk. Her stomach gave a twist as she saw the Professor cast a privacy spell on the door. A warm voice from behind her asked, “I hope you will forgive my delay in seeing you again. It was not my intention to ignore you for so long.”
“Professor Dumbledore!” she said, flooded with relief at hearing his voice.
Dumbledore smiled and bid her to sit. “I understand you have been doing a marvellous job the past several days at playing the aggrieved trouble maker.”
Ginny blushed and looked down. “I can’t wait for Mum’s next Howler,” she said dejectedly. “The only good thing is while I am here she can’t set me to de-gnome every garden in Devon.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “I wish to tell you of the incident that will earn your detention. A detention served with me, I might add. Tomorrow, at lunch, you will prank the staff table.” Professor McGonagall gave what sounded like a disapproving sniff. “If asked why, you may answer that it was retaliation for the Professors confiscating your diary. That should satisfy the School’s gossip network.”
Ginny nearly fainted in shock. “The… the staff table sir? Isn’t that… er… a bit much?” she asked meekly.
“Not at all. After a rather banal bit of song, our hair will change to each other’s colours,” the Headmaster replied.
Ginny looked confused and asked, “How will that be tied to me, Professor?”
“I believe me looking right at you will suffice for the students to guess who initiated the prank.”
Ginny understood that Professor Dumbledore was a very smart man, but he obviously did not understand the Art of the Prank. “Professor, may I be allowed to suggest a couple of changes?”
Dumbledore looked at her in surprise. “Perhaps, Miss Weasley. What would you change?”
“What if you made everyone’s hair turn red?” McGonagall made that sniffing sound again. Ginny turned to face her and was shocked to discover the sound was not disapproving. Her dour Head of House was trying very hard not to laugh aloud.
Dumbledore was smiling, too. “I haven’t had red hair in many a year. I think for one day I could, again, sport the hair colour of my youth. Is that all, Miss Weasley?
“Um… well… no, sir. What if you had a banner appear over the staff table that reads ‘Red-Heads Have More Fun.’?”
“Because of past pranks, that would point towards your brothers, Fred and George, as the culprits. Of course they would be suspected anyway.”
“Well, yes, sir.” Ginny smiled slyly. “I hope you don’t mind if I prank them for just a moment! After the red-head banner a second one would read ‘The Longer the Hair, the Greater the Dare.’ Then when you look at me there will be no doubt. Besides,” she added with a bit of bravado, “if I’m going to be blamed for a major prank, I want that notoriety all to myself! Some of my brothers will be impressed.”
Dumbledore looked to Professor McGonagall, his eyes twinkling madly. “Indeed, Miss Weasley. I think I can arrange for that to happen. Those are excellent suggestions!”
“Will you be bringing me to your office after lunch, Professor?”
“Oh, yes,” the Headmaster said drolly, “I think you can definitely expect that to happen.”
“Could you give Harry a Valentine card from me? I know he might not even notice mine, but I thought I should make the effort,” Ginny finished haltingly.
“If you have a card for me when we meet after lunch, I will be pleased to deliver it personally. I think you might find that Harry will appreciate the gesture more than you could imagine. Do you have any other suggestions or questions, Miss Weasley?” Dumbledore asked.
“No, Sir. Oh, wait! If I may, what did you and Professor McGonagall whisper to each other in the anteroom?”
Dumbledore looked confused for a second. “The ante…? Ah,” he said. “To invoke the Charm I needed to know your full name.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess it is sorta funny,” she said dejectedly.
“Nonsense, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore answered. “The name is quite lovely. Your parents named you well.”
Ginny began to blush madly. “Oh,” was all she could say in reply.
“I think that will be all for today, Miss Weasley,” McGonagall said kindly. Removing the privacy spell, she called out in a stern voice, “You will find there are limits to my patience, young lady. You would not wish to be in here again. Do I make myself understood?”
“Oh, absolutely, Professor,” Ginny sneered as she stormed out of the office and slammed the door closed in her wake.
On her way back to Gryffindor tower, Ginny wore a scowl to keep the muttering students from asking stupid questions. She ignored their staring and pointing by concentrating on what she wanted her card to say. Ginny decided to practice writing the poem a few times, so the script was just right, before using fresh parchment and decorating the border. The used scraps of parchment would make an excellent prop for her later fit of anger, when she would throw her “homework” into the common room fire. In her dorm room Ginny gathered her ink, quill, and parchment and closed the curtains around her bed. She absently hummed a Muggle song her Dad always played on the gramophone for her Mum and began to write out her poem.
The greenest eyes I have ever seen
Belong to the Dark Lord’s bane.
I hope this day finds you happy
And know your friend I gladly remain.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry!
Thinking of you,
Ginny
A/N: (1) I borrowed the existence of Corresponding Diaries, and specifically a “Guinevere” diary, from Arabella’s “Hermione Queen of Witches” stories.
(2) In Britain a Do-It-Yourself “DIY” is analogous to a Lowes or Home Depot store.
(3) Perspex is a 1940s (WW2) British term for what us Yanks call Plexiglas.
(4) My Ig-pay Atin-lay translates Adgnitionis Celare as “Shield the nature or the identity.” Adgnitionis Celare is something like a Fidelius Charm for knowledge.
(5) I borrowed the idea of magical “training orbs” from Bobmin356’s “Spiritus Crystalus.”
Chapter 5: The beginnings of all things are small
Ginny hurried through the school hallways, late to breakfast that Sunday morning. She had stayed up later than she had planned working on Harry’s card. All in all she was very pleased; the poem was not too fan-girl but not too impersonal, either. She hoped, being homemade, it would stand out from the usual mass of cards his well-wishers sent.
She adopted a more belligerent expression as she approached the Great Hall, and she stormed through the doors stomping her feet lightly. She paused to blink, rub her eyes and blink again. The Hall looked like a Twins prank gone bad. Lurid pink flowers and obnoxiously red hearts were everywhere, and misshapen cherubs lurched about firing golden darts of some sort. Many of the boys in the Hall appeared to have no appetite, and the groups of post owls at each table were larger than normal. Ginny noticed an envelope near the Twins with her name in Daddy’s writing on the outside.
“What did you do?” she harshly whispered to her older brothers. “This is over the top even for you two. Mum’s next Howler might not be for me, after all!”
“Next Howler?” Fred asked sharply.
George looked at her closely. “What do you know that we don’t, oh precious-”
“Don’t you mean vicious?”
“-Oh vicious sister dearest?”
Ginny gave a mild snort. “Like I’d tell the Twit Twins anything important.”
“Perhaps,” Fred muttered, “we are best off staying in the dark.”
“It seems, since our sister dearest has blossomed into the Gryffindor Hellion, we Twit Twins have been cast out of the limelight,” George continued.
“And to tell the truth, sometimes it’s fun to watch from the sidelines,” Fred finished.
Ginny glared at her brothers, but she sat next to them and began scooping bangers, eggs and toast onto a plate.
“Ginevra, your tardiness to breakfast is not appreciated,” a voice chided from down the table.
“Shut up,” Ginny snapped in response.
“That is no way to speak to a prefect,” Percy huffed.
“Oh, really? Perhaps you’re right. I can see why you’re considered the smartest. After Bill, of course,” Ginny drawled. “Still, I think it’s a perfectly acceptable way to talk to a nosy pig.”
“I beg your pardon!” Percy sputtered. “A what?”
“Percy IG-natius, P-I-G. Why don’t you take your overly-large nose and go root about in the robes of some Ravenclaw prefect. I hear you’ve found some success there.”
Fred and George looked at each other, and then at Percy, with an unholy glee. Every Gryffindor within earshot of Ginny turned and stared at the still-sputtering prefect, and his face turned a mottled Weasley red. Grinning slightly, Ginny returned to her breakfast in relative peace. She was contemplating a second helping of eggs when the Headmaster stood and spread his arms wide. The sounds of talking students and clanking utensils quickly ceased as everyone looked to the staff table. Since Halloween, few of the Headmaster’s announcements had been innocent or casual.
Dumbledore smiled reassuringly as the students’ attention turned towards him. “I do hope you took the time to notice the unique decorations about the Hall this morning. Professor Lockhart has graciously planned a riotous holiday diversion for us all today.” Lockhart stood, his patented smile sweeping the Hall as a smattering of girls clapped and simpered at him. Dumbledore curtly motioned for him to sit back down.
Oh, bugger, Ginny thought in panic. I could have sworn he said the prank was set for lunch. I don’t have my card with me!
“Yes, yes, thank you, Professor. From nine until eleven this morning, each house’s common room entrance will remain open, though they will be guarded by the appropriate Head of House for your safety. During that time, the Cupids Professor Lockhart has so generously provided will deliver messages of heartfelt devotion to whomever you think deserves them.” The four Heads of House cast a look at Lockhart that would have frozen an erumpent in mid-charge. “The Cupids will be available until dinner tonight to deliver messages to any students in the corridors, grounds, or in the library. But you only have this narrow window of opportunity to reach your paramours while in their common rooms. Enjoy your day!” As the Headmaster sat and immediately began what appeared to be a somewhat heated conversation with his Heads of House, the noise level in the Hall swelled, punctuated by all manner of giggling from many of the girls. Ginny merely sighed with relief; she would have the card with her at the right time after all.
Lockhart stood again, his patented smile glaring in the morning sun, and also addressed the students. Dumbledore and McGonagall looked up from their conversation and frowned, but they did not interfere. “Students! Can everyone hear me? Good, good. Before we begin this day’s festivities, I just want to say thank you for the fifty-one cards I have received, so far, from you students. Believe me when I tell you I personally cherish each and every one of them!” Ginny wondered how he was able to say that without his smile changing one bit.
Fred handed her the envelope with her name on it. “Here, Ginny, this came for you with the packet of notes from Mum and Dad. So, are you one of his fifty-one devoted fans?”
Ginny glared at her brothers and rolled her eyes. They obviously had not overheard the frantic, whispered discussion between Mum and Dad about how to afford five sets of seven books. Ginny had not heard all of their conversation, but each child had books so her parents had found a way. It galled her to know that whatever her parent’s sacrifice for those books had been, it was in vain. Professor Lockhart barely referred to any of the magic described in his books, and he definitely did not teach any of it. And Mum still idolized the man!
Tom had cottoned on to Professor Lockhart by the end of the second week of classes. For Ginny, that had been the first concrete example of Tom’s wisdom. She had begun writing more and more to Tom, pouring her heart into the diary entries. She told him her deepest secrets and fears and many other things beyond her frustrations with Professor Lockhart and how every girl in the school fawned over him.
Ginny’s musings were interrupted by Fred’s insistent question. “Well? Are you?” he asked, grinning.
Ginny let out a brief, annoyed growl. “Oh, I’ll give him a card,” she groused. “Can you get me a Quick-Quotes Quill and a Fwooper before the sun sets?”
The Twins looked at her, their faces slack with shock. “Perhaps,” Fred said after a pregnant pause, “vicious is understating it a bit.”
“Yeah, I think you’re on to something, Fred,” replied George, not taking his eyes off of Ginny. “But… do you think that would work? How could we find out without being driven insane?”
“I doubt anyone would notice a difference,” Ginny replied acerbically. “Why don’t you ask Hermione if she sent a card to that ponce? A Knut says she did,” Ginny added.
George regarded her the way one would watch a dangerous creature. After a moment, however, he chuckled. “Not going to take that bet. She spent a lot of her study time last night muttering about the lack of school owls.”
“Watch this,” Ginny whispered. “All right there, Hermione?” she called in a loud voice. The bushy-haired girl looked at her with a puzzled frown. Ginny nodded her head towards the staff table, where Lockhart was holding court before a crowd of adoring girls. She gave an exaggerated wink and began to laugh. As Hermione turned beet red, the Twins and Neville began to laugh, too.
“You know, you can be an awful person sometimes,” Hermione huffed.
Her reaction caused Ginny to stop laughing and look down at the table in shame. Hermione was one of the few girls in Gryffindor who still talked to her, and she did not deserve to be embarrassed like that. “Sorry,” Ginny replied meekly. “I got carried away and didn’t think.”
“Apology accepted,” Hermione replied a bit stiffly.
Ginny gave her a weak smile and rose from the table. “I have some reading to do. I’ll see you later?” The Twins nodded, turned away, and began discussing how to get a Quick-Quotes Quill to record a non-human sound.
She trudged back to the Gryffindor dormitories, ignoring the pointed look McGonagall gave her as she stepped through the portrait hole. Climbing onto her bed, Ginny set her dad’s Valentine card on the duvet before her and just stared at it. She decided to open it, just to know that someone actually loved her, so she would not feel so lonely. What she really wanted to do was tell Tom about what was happening in the school. He was always so keen to hear about who had done what and when they had done it. He was one of the few people she knew who never judged based on money or blood status. Tom had made her feel important and less alone. Well, lately that was not so true, she admitted to herself.
I’m his friend, why would he think he had to possess me? Professor Dumbledore and Harry don’t know Tom. They must be wrong about the diary being Dark. Ginny drew a sharp gasp. What if Tom himself doesn’t know his diary is Dark? Or what if he was cursed, trapped in a diary alone forever? He never really said what happened to him, and he complained so little while listening so much! Ginny shuddered; her worst nightmare was to be imprisoned alone. Maybe that’s why he possesses me, because he’s so afraid of being alone, too. Ginny shook away that thought; it only made her feel more confused about how Tom was treating her.
Ginny started to worry at the key under her robes but, feeling foolish, she stopped. Instead she decided to settle back against her pillows and close her eyes. She could feel the key against her chest, and it made her think about Harry. If that buffoon Lockhart got fifty-something cards, how many might a real hero like Harry get? As her doubts grew about giving her card to Professor Dumbledore, the Muggle motto “Fortune favours the bold” leapt to mind. Ginny was quite serious about becoming Harry’s friend, and a simple card was the first step in that direction. She refused to indulge in any of her childhood fantasies about The Boy Who Lived, not when she knew the real Harry Potter. She heaved a frustrated sigh; it would be another two whole days before she would see Harry again. This was hard enough already without Tom. She really did miss him so. She hoped that perhaps he would be returned to her that night.
While mentally composing an apologetic diary entry Tom might accept, Ginny heard giggling and the room’s door opening. Her dorm mates had returned. She remained lying against her pillows but opened her eyes to watch the girls. First through the door was Vivien Cooper. She was nice, but she was Muggle-born and deathly certain she would be the next victim of Slytherin’s monster. The guilt of maybe being responsible for the petrifaction attacks, of causing that fear, weighed heavily upon Ginny. She watched as Vivien put several cards in her trunk at the foot of her bed.
A condescending voice said, “Ooh, look! Even Ginny got a card today!”
Ginny grit her teeth. Stupid Kates. Kathryn Rosyth and Catherine deVaux were her other two roommates. Fred and George had originally used “The Kates” as a mocking insult. Unfortunately, The Kates thought it funny and had begun using it themselves. When in a good mood, Ginny referred to them as merely snotty and snide. Although sorted into Gryffindor, Ginny occasionally thought their families had been You-Know-Who’s supporters in the war. While usually polite to Vivien, they were always antagonistic towards her. She heard them refer to her as “that Blood-traitor” several times when they thought they were alone or that she was not listening.
“Kate! I think it’s only a card from Daddy!” giggled the brunette Kate. She brandished a thick handful of cards in front of Ginny.
“Poor Ginny,” giggled the raven-haired Kate. “And I do mean poor…” Placing a large stack of cards on her desk, she said, “Well, it’s always good to know that Daddy still loves us, right? Although you know… I think that annoying boy, Colin, would have sent her a card, but it’s so hard to do so when Petrified.”
Ginny wanted to die of shame when they mentioned Colin. However, Vivien’s frightened start roused her from her funk. “Don’t you vapid b- I mean witches have somewhere else to be?” Ginny snapped at The Kates.
Raven-haired Kate gave Ginny a frosty smile. “As a matter of fact, I’m certain there are some of those dreadful dwarves downstairs with more cards for us. Just think, Ginny, if you were ever to become remotely pretty, you might get more than just a card from Daddy.” They both swept out of the room wearing malicious smiles.
“Sometimes it’s really hard to ignore those two,” she groused to Vivien.
The other girl was still pale and clearly frightened. Avoiding Ginny’s eyes she said, “They can be a bit… well… much, I guess. Still, poor Colin. You know,” she whispered, smiling slightly, “I think he was a bit taken with you.”
Ginny sighed sadly. “Just my luck, yeah?” Grateful for Vivien’s effort to comfort her, Ginny tried to return the favour. “I’ll bet those Dark Magic things, or whatever, that Professor Dumbledore brought here found the monster and killed it. I wouldn’t worry anymore.”
Vivien wrung her hands and looked at Ginny wide-eyed. She gave another hesitant smile and then silently left the room, too.
“Oh, good job, Weasley. That went just splendidly,” muttered Ginny dispiritedly. She drew the curtains about her bed and lay back on her pillows again. Ginny held the unread card from her father over her heart, against where her key lay. But even together they were not enough. Feeling unloved, lonely, and lost, she closed her eyes and began to cry silently.
A good cry almost always helped Ginny regain her emotional footing. Unfortunately this was one of the rare times when it was no help whatsoever. Even trying to take a nap was a pointless exercise. She got up, washed her face, and applied a glamour charm so it was not apparent she had been crying. Before leaving the room she also cast a weak Cheering Charm on herself. How else can I make it through this day? she wondered.
Stepping off the stairs and into the common room, Ginny was greeted by a scene of pandemonium. Ron was running about in a panic, waving his arms about his face and head. He was being chased by a large pair of red lips, which tried to kiss his cheek while screeching, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Ronald!” in a voice that sounded like Auntie Muriel’s. Ginny’s mood immediately improved.
Trust the Twins to cheer me up, she thought. She went to the table where the Twins sat with Neville and Hermione, all enjoying the show.
“What did the prat do this time?” she asked to the table at large. George snorted and told her Ron had given Hermione a hard time about sending a Valentine to Lockhart and getting four herself.
“You got four?!” Ginny asked excitedly. “Who are they from? Do you know? What sort of message was inside? Have you met the boys before?”
“Slow down, Ginny,” Neville chuckled softly.
“Look, Hermione. I am … umm… I apologise for teasing you this morning. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that. I’m certain Mum also sent Lockhart a card. Maybe two.”
“It’s okay, Ginny. That was pretty clever; an insinuation that tricked me into confirming the insinuation. You wouldn’t be related to those two would you?” Hermione grinned and pointed to the Twins, who looked horrified at her comment.
“The Gryffindor Hellion?” George responded.
“Who would ever admit to being related to her?” Fred added.
“Thanks, guys, I guess,” Ginny muttered dis-heartedly. Taking a deep breath, she put on a smile. “So who are they from?” she asked Hermione.
“It’s not that big a deal,” Hermione replied. “One is from my Dad -”
“Really? Me, too,” Ginny interrupted.
“Why would Hermione’s Dad send you a Valentine card?” asked Fred, as if he were mulling over the meaning of life.
Ginny swatted him on the shoulder. “Prat.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and giggled. “I knew what you meant, Ginny! I also got one each from Fred and George.” Ginny raised her eyebrows at this. “Well, I did check them as carefully as I could for pranks. Surprisingly they were on the up and up!” In a softer voice she added, “And… um… Neville also gave me one.”
Ginny ignored her two brothers and turned to Neville. “You did! That is so sweet!” He began to blush and ducked his head. “What about you, Neville?” He mumbled something, while Hermione began to blush. Noticing the byplay, Ginny changed the subject. “And what about my handsome brothers?”
George smiled. “That’s just us, Fred. Bill and Charlie already left school! Mum and Dad sent us one, of course, and then we got one each from Katie, Alicia, and Angelina.”
Ginny laughed and began to chant, “Gryffindor’s Beaters and Chasers, sitting in a tree -”
“Oi, we’ll be having none of that, now!” Fred exclaimed, and they all laughed.
“We’re going to put these away,” George said, motioning to their cards, “and then meet you three for lunch. Sound like a plan?”
“Definitely,” Hermione replied.
“Oh!” exclaimed Ginny. “Let me put Dad’s Valentine on my night stand, and I’ll be right back down.”
A short while later Ginny led the five of them to seats at the end of the Gryffindor table furthest from the staff table. While the Hall was still a sickening pink, at least the Cupids were gone.
Fred looked at Ginny in confusion and asked, “Why are we sitting here, oh vicious sister dearest?”
“Do you see this place?” Ginny replied. “It couldn’t be grosser if one of your pranks went wrong.”
“She has a point,” said George, looking about the Hall. “Although… this does give us a target to surpass!”
“You ought to rethink that,” warned Ginny. “Do you remember the look McGonagall and Snape gave Lockhart this morning? Do you want them that mad at you? How close to the staff table do you want to be if they’re brassed off a second time today? Maybe the further from the staff table, the better, yeah?”
Hermione glanced in Ginny’s direction, her expression unreadable.
The Twins shared an indecipherable look. “Perhaps our vicious sister dearest speaketh the truth. What say ye, oh twinest of brothers?” mused Fred.
“Perhaps,” George said thoughtfully, “we ought to take a seat next to the giant squid, just to be safe.”
As they sat at the furthest end of the Gryffindor table, The Kates wandered in. “Ginny, guess what?” the raven-haired Kate exclaimed loudly. “Madam Pince got eight Valentine cards. If you’re lucky and trick some boy into going out with you by seventh year, maybe you can tie her total before you leave school!”
Neville rolled his eyes in response, and Hermione glared at the pair, while the Twins blew kisses and batted their eye lashes at them. Ginny had already drawn her wand to hex them when she realised she was going to get a far greater detention soon. Compared to pranking the staff table, hexing The Kates was small potatoes.
The Kates regarded her warily as Ginny laughed. “You have no idea.” Slipping her wand back into her robes, she touched the Valentine envelope sitting in the same pocket. Ginny smiled and brushed her robes more, as if to smooth them out; the feel of the card reassured her.
Sitting at the very end of the table, she would not have to walk far when Dumbledore took her out of the Hall sometime during lunch. Although she knew the event was staged, to walk the length of the Hall with everyone looking at her would be too much. She patted Harry’s card and smoothed the front of her robes one more time. Things were beginning to look good today after all. Sometime within the next hour she was going to earn a place in Hogwarts: A History.
Leave it up to Hermione to notice she was not eating at the usual Weasley pace. While none of them were as bad as Ron, they all liked their food. So Ginny knew that picking at her lunch might get someone’s attention. Try as she might, she could not seem to chew or swallow anything she put in her mouth. For all she knew she could be chewing... what was that stuff again? Oh yeah, Perspex.
“Ginny,” Hermione whispered, “are you all right? I know you’ve felt singled out since Thursday, but it’s going to be okay.”
“Trust me,” Ginny whispered in reply. “Pretty soon everything will be just fine.” She gave Hermione a sneaky smile.
Hermione’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What have you done? Do you really want to be in trouble?”
Ginny just winked, put her finger to her lips, and made a soft shushing noise.
Hermione went pale and sputtered, “Ohmygod, you’ve done something here? Now? You’re going to be expelled!”
When the professors finished eating, the Headmaster rose and spread his arms out, gaining the students’ attention and ending their conversations. “I believe we have all had a special morning this morning. I can say with certainty that Hogwarts will never see another morning such as this one.” Dumbledore gave his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor a mirthless smile and led the staff in a round of polite applause.
Lockhart stood and took several overly extravagant bows. “Headmaster,” he projected into the Hall, “you are too kind! Why just the other day I was telling the Minister-”
A very loud pop echoed through the Great Hall. Confused and frightened, the students looked about and saw that everyone was fine. As their attention returned to the staff table, they began to snicker and chuckle nervously. Every professor sported bright red hair.
Hermione turned to look at Ginny with an expression of shock. “You didn’t?” she whispered harshly. “Are you insane?!” she hissed in panic. Ginny fought to keep her expression totally innocent and then winked again at Hermione, who began muttering, over and over, “ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”
With another loud pop, a banner appeared over the staff table reading "Red-heads have more fun!" in bright red letters outlined in gold and shooting silver sparks.
The students, though initially uncertain how to react, began to laugh openly. When the banner appeared over the table, they gasped. As one, they all turned to look at Fred and George. The Twins initial laughter had died, and they looked stunned and confused, like deer caught in the headlights.
“It wasn’t us! We swear!” they exclaimed, their voices pitched high with fear.
As the first banner faded, a new banner appeared with yet another pop. With the same coloured letters as before, it read "The Longer the Hair, the Greater the Dare!" This time, the shower of sparks was bright pink.
Lockhart frowned at the sparks falling about him and, pulling a mirror from his pocket, gave a frightened shriek when he saw his red hair. The Headmaster and the remaining staff members looked up at the banner above them. They followed Dumbledore’s gaze as he slowly turned to look at Ginny at the far end of the Gryffindor table. Despite her best effort to keep an innocent expression, Ginny began laughing like a madwoman. Snape flicked his wand to banish the letters. All he accomplished was to cause a large number of pink sparks to shoot directly at him.
“SILENCE!” Dumbledore commanded. The banner faded away, and a worried hush fell over the Hall as Ginny tried unsuccessfully to stifle her own laughter
With a voice that left no doubt why even You-Know-Who feared him, Dumbledore ordered, “Professor McGonagall, you will collect Miss Weasley and bring her to my office immediately.” He then stormed out of the Hall, the main doors flying opening before he was halfway down the centre aisle. In the dead quiet that followed, a still-giggling Ginny was amazed by the number of students from all Houses who stared at her and then began exchanging money.
Professor McGonagall marched down the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, students from both houses vaulting over their tables to avoid being on the same side as the furious Deputy Headmistress. Gryffindors with no place else to go were actually hiding beneath the table.
Ginny finally stopped laughing. Hermione, sitting next to her, put her head down and appeared to be staring at China while still repeating her “ohmygod” mantra as fast as she could.
McGonagall loomed over Ginny and spoke in a tone that would give a Dementor chills. “Miss Weasley, your meal has ended. You will come accompany me right now to the Headmaster’s office, where we will discuss these… activities.”
There was a heavy silence as Ginny nervously rose and followed her Head of House out of the Hall. Passing through the doorway Ginny took a deep breath, turned around, and shouted, “Beware the Gryffindor Hellion!”
Just before the doors closed with a resounding thud, Ginny heard the Twins laugh and exclaim, “That's our sister!”
Despite her brave outburst while leaving the Great Hall, Ginny was a nervous wreck. She realised she did not know how to take the prank. What if Dumbledore was really angry? She was getting no help from Professor McGonagall. The woman stared straight down the hallway, and she never stopped frowning. They walked up to a stone gargoyle along a nondescript corridor and stopped. McGonagall looked at the gargoyle and spat, “Acid Pops.”
Ginny let out a small gasp as the stone figure leapt out of the way, revealing a moving spiral staircase. McGonagall motioned for her to ride the stairs up to the top and stepped on behind her. At the top the professor moved past her and banged a large door knocker in the shape of a griffin. Ginny followed her into an expansive yet comfortable office.
Professor Dumbledore beamed at her from behind a desk opposite the door. “Come in, Miss Weasley. We have certainly had some very interesting meals these past several days, have we not?”
McGonagall looked at Ginny and conjured a comfortable chair. “Sit down, child,” she said kindly. “You look like you are about to faint. Is there anything we can get you?”
Now that the event was over and the adrenaline was wearing off, Ginny felt chilled and clammy. “A basin please, ma’am, and quickly. I think I’m going to be sick!” she croaked. A moment later a basin and stand appeared next to her, and a screen materialised for privacy. She barely squawked out a “thank you” before she lost the battle with her nerves and vomited into the bowl. When she felt that her stomach was finally settled, she raised her head and found several towels hanging off the basin stand. One was damp and cool, a second damp and warm, while the third was dry. She used the cool towel to wipe her face and felt better.
“Thank you, Professor. I’m really sorry about this,” she added sheepishly. The basin and screen both vanished.
“Nonsense, child, your reaction was certainly expected given the pressure you have been under these past several days,” replied Dumbledore. “Actually, I am rather pleased with our efforts to set up this afternoon’s spectacle.
“At dinner tonight I will announce your punishment to the school as a way to ensure that nothing so blatantly disrespectful happens again. You will serve detention with me every Tuesday and Thursday from last class until curfew, and every Saturday from after breakfast until curfew, through the end of the school term. When you take your meals in the Great Hall, you will do so in the company of your seventh year prefects. Additionally, your movements about the castle will be restricted to certain areas and times. When not in detention, you will be allowed to travel to and from classes and to the Great Hall for meals. At all other times you must remain in the Gryffindor common room. While these measures sound appropriately harsh, they are actually intended to avoid unnecessary interactions with students outside your house. Professor McGonagall can control your interactions within Gryffindor tower.”
“I will be having a meeting with all of my house prefects after I leave here,” Professor McGonagall informed the Headmaster.
“Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore continued, “I want you to remain here until after dinner this evening. That may or may not hold down the gossip.” Ginny gave a half-hearted laugh. “Yes, some things never seem to change here, do they? Staying here gives you a cover for your punishment and keeps you from harassment by other students, at least initially.”
"I can’t wait until tomorrow morning,” Ginny sighed dejectedly. “If you thought Mum’s Howler the other day was bad, just wait until she gets the owls from Professor McGonagall and Percy.”
Dumbledore smiled compassionately. “While I cannot prevent you from receiving a Howler from your mother, I can request that none be delivered during meals. I will let Molly know there have been enough…” he paused for a second, “enough disruptions in the Great Hall over this incident.”
“Thank you, Professor,” she said humbly, giving Dumbledore a slight smile. “I can’t imagine Mum not sending a Howler. My poor housemates, huh? Could I get my bag and a few textbooks to do my homework while I’m here?”
Dumbledore handed her a parchment and quill. “Write down what you need, and I will have them sent here.” He conjured up a desk and chair for her. “Professor McGonagall and I must ensure that a modicum of control remains within these walls for the remainder of this day. We shall also be sending owls to your parents.” Ginny blanched and shrank in her chair. “While we are away, why don’t you rest? If you choose to study, your materials will be here within the hour.”
As Dumbledore and McGonagall headed to the door, Ginny remembered the Valentine in her pocket. “Professor Dumbledore!” she called out, feeling foolish at her change of topic. When the Headmaster turned around, she stammered, “If you’re going to see Harry, would you please take this Valentine for him? Tell him… umm… I look forward to seeing him again.”
Dumbledore smiled and took the card. “I am not going there right away, but I will be seeing him and his guardians later this afternoon. I will ensure this is personally delivered.” With that he and McGonagall disappeared through his office door.
Ginny sat back, placed her hand over the key under her robes, and let out a long, shuddering sigh. For better or worse she had just sent Harry Potter a Valentine. Emotionally and physically spent, she was drifting to sleep in the chair when a thought whirled through her fading consciousness. “I wonder what The Kates would think of that?”
Ginny was floating in a featureless dream when a hand gently shook her shoulder. Opening her eyes to unfamiliar surroundings, she sat straight up and gasped. Professor Dumbledore was standing before her, and a tray with dinner waited next to her chair.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean any disrespect by not studying!”
Dumbledore actually chuckled and told her, “I am pleased you find my furniture that comfortable. You have had a rough several days, possibly even longer. You needed your rest, young lady. Eat. It is past dinner time, and I think your friends are looking forward to your return to Gryffindor tower.”
An hour later Ginny found herself being escorted back to her common room by Sophie L’Orinde, one of her seventh year prefects.
Sophie gave her an odd look. “Expect a rather chilly reception when we get back to the common room. You’re quite unpopular right now. We had a good chance for the House Cup this year, but fifty points is a lot to get back,” she warned.
Ginny gasped. “Fifty points! Professor Dumbledore never mentioned taking points!”
“You should be thankful it wasn’t more,” the prefect snapped. She paused and sighed, “Whatever were you thinking? On the other hand,” Sophie said more kindly, “your twin brothers and their two friends lost fifty points apiece last spring.”
“What?” replied Ginny in surprise.
“Oh yes, two hundred points. Perhaps, after you’ve spent some time with me, you will realize your twin brothers’ antics aren’t always as popular as they seem to think, and Percy is not quite the example of prefect perfection.” Sophie gave her a kindly smile and said, “Well, we’ve wasted enough time chit-chatting! Quickly now, let’s get back to the tower.”
Stepping through the portrait hole, Ginny noticed everyone looking at her. The Gryffindors’ expressions varied from mild disgust to outright anger. Sophie patted her on the shoulder and continued up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories. Ginny was surprised to see all four of her brothers waiting for her.
Percy spoke first, pompously rounding on her. “Ginevra, I want to discuss the Headmaster’s punishment with you -” He never finished his speech. Instead, he began hopping on his right leg and holding his left shin.
“The Headmaster has already discussed my punishment with me, pig. I doubt there is anything you could add,” Ginny spat.
“You can’t attack a prefect,” he wheezed in outrage. “Another five points from -”
Percy fell forward with a muffled thud. Ron stood over him and crossed his arms. “Just shut it, Percy. What’s wrong with you, anyway? You’ve been a bloody berk ever since you received that bloody badge. You talk to my sister like that again and I’ll kick your arse halfway up your throat!”
“This is absolutely not allowed! You can not go about attacking other students at will. Fred, George - I’ll need your help as witnesses when I report to Professor McGonagall.”
“Give it up, pig,” said George.
“We aren’t talking about some cobbled up rules, we’re talking about our sister. Your sister, too, you wanker,” snarled Fred.
“If we had been a bit nicer to Ginny all along, she wouldn’t have got in trouble. It’s scary coming here for the first time, even with the likes of you about,” said Ron.
Stunned by the show of support, especially from Ron, Ginny went over towards him, gave him a warm hug, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Ron. That was the nicest thing anyone has said to me for a long time.”
“You know, Fred,” George mused, “we have a decision to make. We can support Ron, and have our precious -”
“Vicious, it’s vicious,” hissed Fred.
“- Sister give us hugs, or we can support pig and spend the rest of our lives grasping our shins.”
“You know, George,” Fred repeated, “since you put it that way, I think the wise choice is clear. Don’t you have rounds or something, Percy? We’ll make sure Ginny stays safe. Your sort of help is not appreciated or necessary.”
Her older brother stood with as much dignity as he could manage with a bruised shin. “Mum will hear about this, all of it!” he huffed and then hobbled off towards the portrait hole.
Ginny let out a shuddering sigh after the portrait closed. “He’s probably going to owl Mum right now. I know Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall both wrote letters to Mum; they were sent even before I came back here. Does he honestly think he can say something the Headmaster and McGonagall didn’t?”
“Well…” Fred drawled, “he can try to send an owl. Oddly enough all the school owls are being used, and Hermes is off delivering a letter to Bill in Egypt.”
“How did you get Hermes to take your letter?”
“You know,” George drawled, “you might be the Gryffindor Hellion, but we have been known to pull a prank -”
“- Or three,” Fred chimed in.
“- In our time,” finished George.
Ginny giggled, honestly and easily, for the first time in what seemed like forever. There was nothing left to do but ignore the stares and whispers. But before she saw Harry for the first time, she wanted to learn more about him, his godfather, and the mysterious Mr. Lupin. She would need the library, which was now effectively off limits to her. Ginny pondered how to get the books she needed.
“Did Dumbledore really give you detention with him personally until the end of the term?” Ron asked in awe. She nodded, not sure what to say. Ron blanched and continued in a near whisper. “He told us at dinner that you have detention every Tuesday and Thursday after classes and all day Saturday. That’s true, too?” Once again Ginny nodded and this time gave her brothers a small shrug.
“Blimey, Ginny! The fifty points is one thing, but getting assigned detention with the Headmaster is something even Fred and I haven’t accomplished. Our little sister,” said George, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “She’s all grown up now.” He and Fred both gave Ginny appreciative hugs.
“Do you think you could teach us how you did that stuff?” Fred asked.
Ginny pretended to mull over her answer. “Not today, and certainly not for the rest of this term. But it’s possible you might be taught those charms someday. You can increase your chances by doing me a favour.”
“Er… Could I get in on this favour, too?” asked Ron.
“Certainly,” Ginny replied. “Professor Dumbledore assigned me an essay to begin my detention.” Her three brothers winced as one. “Because of my minders and curfews, I can’t really go to the library whenever I want. Could you three get me some books on the Potter family and James Potter’s friends?”
“The Potter family?” Ron blurted loudly. “Blimey, I thought you were our expert on them! Dad must’ve read you the Harry Potter story before bed every night until just before you left to come here.”
Ginny felt her cheeks begin to burn with a blush. “Gosh, Ron, do you think you could speak up a bit? I’m sure the folks at the Leaky Cauldron couldn’t quite hear you,” she snapped in reply. “This is for a school paper. I need to know more than the story of The Boy Who Lived. I need to know about his parents and their friends and how they were betrayed, if that is in a textbook anywhere.”
“We’ll look for you, Ginny, even if it ruins our reputation to be seen in the library. That’s how much we love you!” said Fred.
“Is it okay if we ask Hermione to help?” George asked. “If anyone knows what books to get, it’ll be her. She’s going to be so bored here after next year.”
Ginny looked at the Twins in confusion. “Why?”
“We figure even if she slows up a bit next year, it will take her all of three years to read the entire school library.”
“She’s a swot,” added Ron, nodding. The Twins each promptly slapped the back of his head. “What the bloody hell did you do that for?” he whined.
“If you’d ever get yourself away from Wood’s Quidditch sewing circle, you’d find she’s quite funny and has a wicked sense for pranks,” said Fred.
“Half the stuff we’ve done this year was her idea!” said George, agreeing with Fred’s appraisal.
“Wait. The Mini-McGonagall is helping you with pranks? I’m sorry, but that’s just too hard to believe. She would never break a rule, everyone knows that!”
“Ahh…” Fred and George said simultaneously.
“Our wee baby brother is beginning to figure it out,” George continued.
Ron stared at his brothers, shaking his head. “No. That’s just barmy. She’s not like that.”
“How would you know what she’s like?” replied Fred. “You seem to spend every waking hour with Wood, McLaggen, Creighton, Finnegan, and Thomas. When the six of you begin to talk Quidditch, You-Know-Who himself could walk into the common room and you wouldn’t notice. You seriously need to pull your head outta your pitch once in a while and be like us, Ronnie! There’s a whole world out there filled with people who are brilliant in more ways than one.”
Ron only shook his head in disbelief.
“Suit yourself, Ron, but never say we didn’t warn you.” With that the Twins walked off, whispering about quills and Fwoopers again. Ron wandered back to his Quidditch group, and Ginny found herself standing in the middle of the common room all alone.
Sighing sadly, she said to no one in particular, “I hope they remember to get some books for me.”
Despite Ginny’s worries, her brothers and Hermione brought her a number of books and newspaper articles about the Potters and the Voldemort Uprising. Over the next two days she was fascinated to learn that the children’s stories she had always heard were very simplistic versions of the disaster. She also learned that no-one really knew why You-Know-Who had wanted to kill the Potters. Nor did scholarly recountings of that night provide any clues about why Harry had lived or what happened to him afterwards. They referred to the same rumours and guesses found in the Daily Prophet but added nothing more. Ginny began to appreciate how carefully Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Black had kept Harry hidden and guarded.
Ginny spent several hours Sunday night looking at pictures of the Potter family and their friends. She was very impressed that Harry’s parents had been Head Boy and Head Girl, and Harry made a most adorable baby. Looking at the photos of his parents and seeing him last week made her realise how much he looked like his father, except he had his mum’s eyes. Even though her hair was a different shade of red, the pictures of Lily Potter were almost enough to make Ginny believe that she might someday be pretty, too.
Sirius… Oh, Merlin! He was as handsome then as now. She wondered briefly why he had not married, and then she smacked her forehead with the book. The man had spent the last eleven years keeping the saviour of the wizarding world safe from harm. When did he have time to seriously court anyone? It suddenly dawned on Ginny that Sirius’ multitudes of reported romances were as much a cover story as her detentions.
What little she read about Peter Pettigrew sickened her; Azkaban was too good for someone who would offer his best friends and their baby up for murder. The last of James’ friends, however, caused her the greatest concern. Even in the old pictures, Remus Lupin wore the same oddly tired look as he had last week. And now Ginny knew why. He was a werewolf.
That knowledge shocked Ginny to her core. All of this secrecy and protection for Harry, and at any moment he could be killed by a werewolf? It did not make sense! Suddenly she felt like her blood had turned to ice. Were all three of them already werewolves? Was that why Harry had to stay hidden? She desperately wanted to ask Professor Dumbledore about this but feared that if she said anything she would not be allowed to see Harry. Tom probably would have known what to do - he was always so wise and helpful - but he, too, was out of reach. She just did not understand it, but she vowed to be very careful when she finally saw Harry.
Tuesday afternoon after Herbology, Ginny scurried back to her dorm so she could shower and change before going to the Headmaster’s office. It just would not do to meet Harry again smelling of dragon dung and with compost under her fingernails.
Hurrying through the castle so she would not be late, Ginny glanced at the directions Sophie had given her that morning to get to the Headmaster’s office. She abruptly stopped and looked across the open vault of the castle. Where were the stairs? She pulled out her chart of Mercury’s movements and groaned. Her shower had taken longer than she anticipated, and now she had run afoul of the stairs’ movements; they would not be in the correct position for four minutes. Pacing furiously in the corridor, Ginny felt that those were the longest four minutes of her life. Before the stairs were completely aligned, she leapt across the remaining gap and raced towards the Headmaster’s office.
Flying around the corner towards the gargoyle, Ginny slid to a halt. In a fancy chintz chair in the centre of the corridor, Professor Dumbledore sat gazing at a pocket watch. He looked up at the clatter of her feet, and she felt herself grow beet red.
“Professor, Sir!” Ginny panted, out of breath. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had Herbology and wanted to wash up a bit before reporting here,” she continued to pant.
Dumbledore stared at her intently for a moment and then gave her a curious smile. Surely he did not suspect that she had taken extra time for a complete shower, washing and carefully brushing out her hair and finding her best school robes to wear?
“No harm done, Miss Weasley!” Dumbledore said, apparently accepting her apology. “I realised the alignment of the stairs might impede you. I commend you for your dedication. You should have been delayed four minutes, and yet you made it here a mere three and a half late. Well done!”
He stood, vanished the chair, and told Ginny to come along. She followed in Dumbledore’s wake, eventually walking through a portion of the castle she had not seen before. The hallways had an air of abandonment that she could emphasise with, and it fed her unease. The Headmaster was not concerned that she could see; while she walked in silence, Dumbledore was humming a tune she thought sounded like some sort of classical music, but she was not sure. Ginny thought about how to ask Dumbledore about Mr. Lupin, the werewolf, but could not figure out a way to do it without sounding awkward. She hoped she was mistaken and Harry was not also a werewolf.
Halfway down yet another unused-looking corridor, Professor Dumbledore stopped. Lost in her own thoughts, Ginny almost walked into him and felt herself flush at her clumsiness. She began to apologise but instead let out a strangled shriek as a shadow along the wall moved.
“Sorry, Miss Weasley, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Mr. Black chuckled as he materialised from the shadow.
“Mr. Black!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Where did you come from?”
“Please wait a moment before we discuss anything further,” warned Dumbledore. He cast privacy spells on both ends of the corridor they were standing in. “I think, Sirius, that it is safe to proceed.”
“I apologise for the cloak and dagger, Miss Weasley, but there’s no such thing as too careful,” Mr. Black told her. “Now then, if you would be so kind as to read this note.” He handed her a piece of parchment.
Still shaking from Mr. Black’s frightening appearance, Ginny took the note and read, “The hidden tower at Hogwarts Castle is found on the south curtain wall above the cliffs.” Confused, Ginny looked up and saw the curved wall of a tower, complete with a substantial wooden door set into its side, emerge from the formerly featureless wall. “How… Where...” she stammered.
“A Fidelius Charm, Miss Weasley,” replied Mr. Black. “The tower has always been here, but it is now known to only a select few. As the Charm’s Secret-Keeper, I am the only one who can allow you knowledge of and access to the tower.”
Ginny stood wide-eyed and blinked several times. “Oh,” was the only coherent thing she could think to say.
“Go on then, lass, it’s a bit past five. Harry ought to be done with his lessons for the day by now. Dinner for us is usually between five and six, so we’ll eat soon. Do you like lamb and beef? I understand Blinkin has gone all out for dinner tonight!”
Ginny stood motionless, not quite knowing what to say. This was Sirius Black chatting with her like they were old mates! “So I just knock, then?” she asked, feeling rather silly. She felt her face grow warm and fought to control her jittery nerves.
“Of course. I want to talk to the Headmaster for a moment. Go ahead… knock.”
At Sirius’ urging Ginny did just that. The large iron knocker was a slight stretch for her to reach, but she managed it and banged it several times against the strike plate. She tried hard not to let her nervousness and fear show. As the door opened, she put on what she hoped was a friendly smile.
“Oh, come on, Remus! Just once couldn’t you put away the microscope and the specimen slides? Please? I really need to be washed up before Ginny gets here. Moony? I’ll side with you in the next prank war…”
“Excuse me? Harry, are you trying to bribe a teacher?”
Harry gave him a very devious smile. “Depends. Is the teacher willing to be bribed?”
Remus answered with a smile as devious as Harry’s. “Go wash up. I’ll finish up here.”
“Thanks, Remus, you won’t regret this!” Harry immediately ran down to his bedroom and lavatory area. He felt fortunate that they were only working on plant cellular structure this week. If he had been dissecting some reptile or something, cleaning up would not be so quick. He groaned when he looked at his hair in the mirror. It just would not stay combed, especially in the back. Not for the first time, Harry wished that he had his mum’s hair and his dad’s eyes. Giving up his hair as a bad job, he hurried down the stairs and into the lounge to wait for Ginny.
Harry began pacing impatiently but decided to peer at the diary while waiting instead. He wondered what sort of changes would occur to the signature and threads when she was in the tower. He panicked for a moment, worried that Ginny would not show up. Maybe she had changed her mind and would just serve out her detentions with Dumbledore and be done with it. After all, he did lead an awfully boring life. But then, she had sent him a Valentine’s Day card and went through all the trouble of making it herself. He had never received anything like that and was thrilled by it. Harry smiled softly. The Dark Lord’s bane. It was brilliant!
Lost in his thoughts, Harry was startled by the knocker’s sharp rap. Anyone he knew just came in, so it had to be Ginny. He took a deep breath to calm himself and opened the door. There she stood, wearing a pensive smile and a deep blush as he looked at her. Although Sirius and Dumbledore were standing right there, he let his emotions get the better of him and blurted out, “Hello! How are you?” Harry breathed a sigh of relief as her smile became genuine. Despite his worries, things were going well.
Sirius said, “Harry, why don’t you take Miss Weasley inside? I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore for another few minutes.” Harry knew he was talking with Dumbledore about how Ginny would be escorted to and from the tower.
“Oh, okay. Ginny, come in! Let me show you some of the Marauder Tower,” Harry grinned.
Ginny looked about as Harry led her through the foyer area and into the lounge. “The Marauder Tower?” she asked. “The piece of parchment Mr. Black gave me just said the tower is hidden.”
“Sirius, Remus, my Dad, and another friend from school called themselves the Marauders when they went here. It’s sort of a nickname for their group.” Harry shrugged. “Sirius thought it would be a good unofficial name for this place, too.”
“So! Well, er… this is the lounge. Over here is Remus’ office. It’s really our study and library, but Remus spends so much time in here it seems like his office,” he added with a nervous smile. “Do you like libraries? We have a good one. Come on, I’ll show you!” She followed him through the doorway and into a richly carpeted, wood-panelled room lined with shelves full of books.
“My brothers’ friend, Hermione, would love to see this,” Ginny said meekly.
Harry was about to point out a collection of Muggle science books when he heard her take a sharp breath. She was looking at the lectern by the desk where her diary rested in its Perspex box. Her fingers began to worry with something beneath her robes, which Harry guessed was her key to the box. “We, um… we’ve decided to keep it here for now, at least until the um… four of us begin to investigate it. Other than that, we haven’t touched it, honestly!” he added a bit defensively.
Ginny nodded, wide eyed and silent. Harry heard the entrance door close and Sirius tell him he was checking on things in the kitchen. “Huh,” Harry said, “Blinkin won’t let him touch anything but…” He gave Ginny a puzzled shrug. “So. Next is the lounge, again, and off of that are the dining room and kitchen.”
As he led Ginny back through the doorway, Harry’s hair suddenly turned bright red, his robes wrapped about him like a straight jacket, and his shoes began to dance and carry him along for the ride. He started screaming, “NO! Not NOW! I’ll get you for this! Damn you, Padfoot, this is NOT the time for a STUPID PRANK! MOONY! So help me God, if you are part of this YOU WILL LIVE TO REGRET IT!” Harry made a number of loud, annoyed grunts while struggling to reach his wand against the tightness of the robes. As the dancing shoes spun him around, he caught a glimpse of Ginny standing just outside the study doorway looking ashen and totally dumbstruck.
Padfoot bound out of the kitchen and across the lounge. The huge dog leapt over the struggling Harry towards Ginny, letting out a welcoming bark. Ginny shrieked “WEREWOLF!” and shot a hex at the large dog. Her aim was off, and she hit Harry instead. “What the bloody hell is THIS?” he yelled as a horde of bats emerged painfully from his nose and flapped about his face. Padfoot continued running towards Ginny and tried to leap on her. She sent a flash of red light into the dog’s chest, causing it to crash to the floor with a yelp. She moved quickly around the whimpering dog and a frantic Harry towards the tower’s entrance door. Finally, Harry managed to free his wand hand and cancel the jinxes on his robes and shoes. He began calling “Finite” at his face, but to no avail. A burst of riotous laughter from the stairs caused him to turn and see Remus holding his sides. Harry noticed Ginny point her wand at him again. His eyes went wide, and he screamed “NO!” a second time.
Ginny called out something like “comma” and, to Harry’s relief, the bat spell stopped.
Harry immediately flicked his wand at the whining dog, which grew floppy basset hound ears and a red, bulbous nose. A swish of his wand caused a pair of clown pants and a hideously blue wig to appear on the animal.
Pale as a ghost, Ginny glanced towards the sounds of laughter. Seeing Remus on the stairs she cried out, “You?!” as she backed against the entrance door. Pointing her wand at Padfoot she screamed, “Then who is that werewolf? You really are a pack of werewolves?” She started to cry, blindly grasping for the door latch behind her.
Harry looked at her in confusion. “Werewolves? What makes you think we’re a pack of werewolves?”
Stabbing her wand towards Remus, she shouted, “Because he’s a werewolf. Why else are you kept away from everyone?”
Remus was no longer laughing. “Ah,” he said hesitantly. “I think some explanations are in order, Miss Weasley. If it makes you more comfortable, I will stay here… on the stairs. Harry, please lift the jinxes from Sirius, and ah… Padfoot, you ought to transform. I think these pranks have gone out of hand.”
Sirius transformed and gingerly rubbed his chest. “Bloody hell, Miss Weasley! You hit me with a stinging hex?”
A look of abject misery on her face, Ginny stood weeping in front of the door. “I’m sorry! I read about Mr. Lupin and thought Harry was hidden because he was a werewolf, too. Oh, I’ve ruined everything! I’ll just wait here until you bring Professor Dumbledore back.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Sirius replied, confused. “That hex was outstanding. It really hurt! Where on earth did you learn to draw that fast? You’re only a first year, right? That’s impressive, don’t you think so, Remus?”
Giving an exasperated sigh, Remus said, “Sirius, before we go any further tonight, I think Miss Weasley should understand about my lycanthropy.” Still on the stairs he addressed the girl. “Yes, Miss Weasley, I am a werewolf. Do you know who Fenrir Greyback is?” The change of her expression from misery to horror answered Remus’ question better than any words. “My father angered him when I was a young boy, and he attacked me for revenge’s sake. Recently a new potion, named after Wolfsbane, has become available. It doesn’t stop the transformation, but when I take it I retain my human perspective. For safety’s sake I still have myself locked in a secure room until the next day. You will never see me transformed, Miss Weasley. There is nothing to fear. My lycanthropy will create some impositions on our research and your training. Every so often a full moon will fall on one of your days here, and I, unfortunately, will be unavailable for that session.”
He waved at Sirius. “Sirius is not a werewolf, but rather an animagus. Please keep that secret. Very few people know about that, and he is not registered. Harry is neither a werewolf nor an animagus.”
Ginny continued to sob and began to wring her hands about her wand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. That was very rude of me to assume things without knowing.”
Sirius approached her slowly. “Come sit down, Miss Weasley,” he said kindly. “I’m touched you went through the effort to learn about us.” He smiled slightly at Remus. “That’s actually the sort of thing Remus would do.” He guided the distraught girl to an armchair and conjured a glass of water and a handkerchief for her. “We are the ones who owe you an apology. This was not really a good time to prank Harry.”
Harry glared at Sirius and hissed, “This isn’t over, Padfoot. Not by a long shot!”
“Miss Weasley,” said Remus, “your response this evening was far from the rudest I have encountered. The fact that you sought to learn about us tells me you are an intelligent young lady. The fact that you came here, despite your fears, tells me you are also a brave one.”
“Miss Weasley?” Sirius asked gently. “Remus and I will go find out if dinner is ready. Why don’t you take a moment to compose yourself? Harry will stay and keep you company.” He collected Remus from the stairs and took him into the kitchen.
When they had gone, Harry sat in a chair across from Ginny. Hesitantly and quietly Harry said, “I’m really sorry they did this today. We… er… we have prank wars from time to time, but today was not… It wasn’t a good time to have one. I’m sorry that we upset you.”
“My brothers, Fred and George, would have loved it,” she answered with a watery smile. “I’m so sorry I hexed you and Mr. Black!”
“What was that hex you hit me with? I don’t think even Sirius and Remus knew what it was, and that’s saying something.”
“I call it the Bat Bogey Hex.”
Harry’s jaw dropped, and he began to laugh. “Well named, Ginny, but why couldn’t I end the hex?”
“It’s an Egyptian hex my brother Bill taught me -”
“Which one is Bill?” Harry interrupted.
“He’s the oldest. He finished here four years ago and works in Egypt as a Curse Breaker for Gringotts.”
“A Gringotts Curse Breaker? Wow! That’s really cool!” He looked over at the door to the kitchen. “Look, do you feel like having some dinner? We almost never have a guest, so Blinkin prepared something special. I mean if you’re okay, ‘cause I mean I understand if you aren’t hungry right now,” he said, unsure of himself.
“I didn’t have much at lunch today,” she said with another slight smile. “Thanks.”
“Excellent, come on.” Harry checked the doorway into the dining room for pranks before he let Ginny through it. He gave her a rueful smile and shrugged. “All clear.”
Harry showed her to a seat opposite from him at the table. She peered at the Welch cupboard behind him and let out a gasp. “What?” Harry asked as he cautiously turned around. “Are they doing something mental again?”
Ginny shook her head, blushing madly again. “Where are the rest of your cards?” she asked a bit breathlessly.
Harry looked at the cupboard. Ginny’s Valentine card was placed prominently on the centre shelf. “Cards? I got your card, and it’s really nice.” He chuckled. “I love that ‘Dark Lord’s bane’ bit. You’re very clever!”
“Don’t you get loads of cards every Valentine’s Day? Supposedly the only person who gets more cards than you is Professor Lockhart! Witch Weekly has a column about them almost every year! They even wrote an article last year about the post owl shortage due to the number of cards sent to you.”
“Why would they write something like that?” he asked, confused. “Why would a magazine say I got a lot of cards? Your card was the first I ever got. I’m really sorry I didn’t give you one; I didn’t even know people did things like that. But then I guess I couldn’t,” he said, thinking he sounded pretty lame.
“You’ve never received a Valentine’s Day card?” she asked incredulously.
Harry shook his head and shrugged. He felt his face grow warm, but he was not sure what Ginny’s point was. Sirius got a few from time to time, but he actually discouraged magazines from talking about that. She peered at him closely and had that look of great sadness in her eyes again. It actually made his heart hurt to think someone could be that sad. Was this more of that ‘girl magic’ Sirius had talked about the other evening? He was saved from a growing and embarrassing silence when Remus and Sirius entered the dining room.
Joining them at the table, Sirius rubbed his hands together. “Miss Weasley, we have a truly excellent selection tonight. Leg of lamb, Shepherd’s pie, new potatoes, steamed carrots, Brussels sprouts -”
“I hate Brussels sprouts,” Harry muttered.
“They’re good for you; remember the one-bite rule! Now, where was I… er… Brussels sprouts and fried tomatoes. We have trifle and treacle tart for pudding.”
“No tripe tonight,” Harry told Ginny with a wry smile.
She giggled at his joke about their argument the previous night, and Harry was pleased that she seemed to have regained some of her composure.
“Miss Weasley?” Remus said. “Would you care for tomatoes or carrots?”
“Carrots please, sir. Mr. Black, do you want any gravy for your lamb?”
“Hmm… yes, Miss Weasley, and pass the potatoes, too.”
“Ginny, do you want water, or juice?” asked Harry.
“Juice, please.” She turned to Remus. “Mr. Lupin, did you want any Shepherd’s pie?”
“Absolutely, Miss Weasley!”
“Stop, stop! Just wait a moment,” barked Sirius. “I’m finding this mister and miss business quite tiresome, and we have barely begun to eat.” He looked at Ginny and asked, “May I call you Ginny?”
She quickly swallowed her food and nodded. “It’s all right with me, sir.”
“Excellent! Enough of that ‘sir’ stuff, too. Ginny, this is Remus, and I’m Sirius.”
Harry snorted. “He is, actually.”
Sirius gave Harry a stern look and then smiled at Ginny. “You’ll have to excuse my godson; he has acquired a rather odd sense of humour.” Harry snorted again. “Anyway, Sirius and Remus will do just fine. After all, he is just Harry.” Ginny looked up at Harry and blushed. “Now, let’s tuck in properly.” After that the only sound was the clinking of silverware as they enjoyed the meal.
“Ginny? Would you pass the carrots down here again?” Remus asked.
While passing the bowl, Ginny knocked over her goblet, spilling pumpkin juice across the table towards Remus. “Oh!” she exclaimed and pulled her napkin off her lap to sop up the spill. In doing so she managed to drag her robe’s sleeve cuff through the gravy in its boat. Gasping in surprise, she jerked her gravy-soaked sleeve back and promptly stuck her elbow into the butter dish. Harry started to laugh as Ginny looked more embarrassed by the moment. Remus gave Harry a stern look and flicked his wand, cleaning up the gravy, the butter, and the spilled juice.
“Don’t let Harry’s lack of manners get to you, Ginny,” Remus told the now mortified-looking girl. “The last time he did something like that -”
“Which was at lunch today,” interjected Sirius.
“He licked his sleeve and used it to mop up the water he’d spilled.”
“Hey!” snapped Harry. “That’s not true.”
“All right, all right,” said Remus with a dramatic sigh. “I did exaggerate a bit. Harry didn’t mop up the water.”
Ginny looked at Harry, dumbstruck. He shrugged and then smirked as he put his sleeve cuff in his mouth and made loud sucking noises. Ginny blinked and began to snicker. Harry laughed with her in return.
“So, as you might have begun to guess, Ginny, we… well, we’re hardly paragons of decorum and manners,” Sirius said with a grin. “You should never be embarrassed, because we can tell you tales of far worse situations that involve us personally.”
“I’ll keep that in mind sir… er… Sirius.”
He nodded his approval. “So Dumbledore told us about the prank to get you into detention, but he also said we should ask you about the improvements you made.”
“Well, I didn’t do much. That was magic beyond anything I can do,” she said modestly.
Sirius waved her off. “Stuff and nonsense, Ginny. Remus can tell you the magic is easy. Original ideas are the hard part. So, young lady, we’re all ears!”
Harry surreptitiously flicked his wand at Sirius, and his ears enlarged to the size of elephant ears. Ginny looked at him, her eyes as big as saucers, and then she burst out laughing. Sirius felt about his head and realised the size of his ears. He drummed his fingers on the table, glaring at Harry. “Are you planning to start a prank war right here and now, young man?”
“No,” answered Harry defiantly. “I plan to finish one, Mister Spell-on-the-Doorway!”
Ginny was looking back and forth between Harry and Sirius waiting to see what would occur next. She burst out laughing again when Remus attempted to get the conversation back on track and was rewarded by Sirius causing him to bray like a donkey and Harry giving him a blue curly clown wig. Swishing his wand, Remus removed the jinxes. Sounding annoyed, he told his two tormentors, “I believe we were waiting to hear Ginny’s improvements to the detention prank. Now then, gentlemen - and I use that term loosely this evening - let her continue.”
Ginny explained about Dumbledore saying Valentine’s Day was a day for fun and all the staff’s hair turning red.
“All?” asked Sirius. “Even Snape’s?” Ginny nodded, and he barked a laugh.
Then she told them her idea about adding the banners. “With the red hair, most would expect the Twins, but I was supposed to be the prankster. So the second banner read ‘The Longer the Hair, the Greater the Dare’. That pretty much turned everyone’s attention to me.” Her smile faltered and she sighed. “That part wasn’t very fun. Maybe they were acting, but I never saw Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall that mad before. They were very scary.”
Sirius nodded. “Regardless, that was a well thought out change. I like it!”
“Can I ask a question?” Ginny said tentatively.
“Of course,” Remus answered.
Blushing madly again, Ginny said, “Well, one of my favourite stories growing up was Harry’s story. Before coming here today I had my friends get some books about you two and Harry’s family. I mean, even the serious books only repeated what was in the children’s story with fancier words. May I ask what really happened?”
Sirius laughed again, although it had a bitter, hollow tone. “I am responsible for their deaths. I trusted Peter Pettigrew - I’m sure you read about him - to be James’ and Lily’s Secret-Keeper. It should have been me, but since I was the obvious choice, I suggested Peter as a double blind. Clever me, yeah? No one suspected Peter of being Voldemort’s spy. But he was, and he ran straight to his master. And here we are today.”
Ginny shuddered at the casual use of Voldemort’s name and watched, horrified. “That’s not quite what I meant,” she said cautiously.
Remus gave her a sad smile. “I think I understand what you’re asking about, Ginny. We don’t know exactly what happened that night. The only survivor is sitting across the table from you,” Ginny glanced at Harry and blanched, “and he was barely a year old. What we do know is that by all rights Harry should have died. By all rights Voldemort should have been unharmed. But that didn’t happen. Harry survived Voldemort’s Avada Kedavra. We do know he threw that curse because it is his favourite, his signature curse you could say. That’s what killed James and Lily. Dumbledore thinks Lily stepped into the first curse to protect Harry and triggered an unexpected chain of events. Her sacrifice, a sacrifice of love, overcame Voldemort’s second attempt to kill Harry. But the rebounded curse did not kill him, either. His body was there, but his soul did not pass on. We don’t know why, even today. That is the reason for the secrecy and security around Harry. Voldemort will return, and he will try to kill Harry again.”
Ginny sat staring at Harry, her jaw hanging open, eyes wide, pale as alabaster. “But…but…why?” she said in a whisper. She shook her head as if to clear her mind. “Why did You-Know-Who want to… to kill you?”
Harry looked expectantly at Remus and Sirius. Sirius shook his head slowly. “Let’s save that for another time, perhaps. That story is not really ours to tell.”
“Is this the ‘yet’ part you mentioned the other night?” Ginny asked.
“Umm… yeah,” Harry said in a resigned tone.
“Don’t you get… lonely?” Ginny asked. “Who did you grow up with?”
“Well, Remus and Sirius of course, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, and Moody and Hagrid, and a few others. Do you want pudding?” Harry asked suddenly, trying to change the topic.
Ginny looked at him, and something in her eyes told him she was going to accept his evasion for now but would raise the issue again someday. “Some trifle would be nice.”
“I know I asked you about this before, but what are the classes here like?” Harry asked.
“If you’ve been living here all your life, you ought to know better than me,” said Ginny.
Sirius coughed. “You had no idea Harry was here before last Thursday. That’s because he has no contact with any students and very few of the professors.”
“But how are you learning magic? Are you learning magic?”
Harry looked at Remus and smiled. “Professor Dumbledore was playing one of his odd jokes the other day. In the anteroom where you waited, he left copies of a series of essays on magical theory.”
“I remember that textbook, but studying wasn’t high on my mind at that time.”
“That bushy-haired girl from your house did ask Dumbledore about it,” Remus noted.
Ginny gave a short laugh and rolled her eyes. “That was my brothers’ friend, Hermione. She’d be interested in anything that looked like a textbook.”
“That textbook is the basis for Harry’s education and training in magic,” Remus told her.
“Hermione has mentioned that book several times now. It’s not in the library, and she said Dumbledore wouldn’t tell her who wrote it. It’s driving her barmy.”
“This is something you are not allowed to tell her, Ginny, but I am sitting across the table from the author,” Sirius said with a hint of pride in his voice.
“You wrote a text book on magic?” Ginny asked Remus in awe.
Remus coughed. “Well, I had a lot of help, and it’s not so much a textbook -”
Sirius interrupted him. “It’s not just a textbook, Ginny; it’s a totally new way to look at how magic works and how to teach its applications to students. The reason you’ve never heard of it is that Remus is a werewolf.” His tone grew bitter again as he continued. “As far as the Ministry is concerned, he has nothing worthwhile to say or write.”
“But… that’s so unfair!” she exclaimed. Her eyes grew large, and she blushed again as she said, “Oh, I see.”
Sirius ran both his hands through his hair and then snorted. “Remus here is far too modest, but I personally think he has made the greatest advance in magical education since the founding of Hogwarts. Harry has been our test subject and actually helped with some of the theory Remus has evolved.”
“Test subject?” Ginny asked in a wary tone.
“My entire magical education has been under Remus’ Theory of Magic. I began to learn when I was five,” Harry told her. “I’ve used Hogwarts texts and studied Muggle subjects, also.” Looking to Remus for confirmation, Harry said, “In several subjects I’m a N.E.W.T. level student. I want to be awarded the title of Sorcerer by the time I am of age.”
Ginny blinked, shook her head, and stared. “Sorcerer?” she whispered in awe. “You have to have a Mastery in all five branches of physical magic to earn that title.”
“We can have him teach you some of the things he’s learned so far,” said Sirius affably. “Would you like to be a Sorcerer’s apprentice?”
“Sirius,” Harry whined, “that isn’t even funny. Ignore him, Ginny. Sometimes he can get embarrassing,” he ended peckishly. “Can you tell me about some of your classes here? What’s it like taking classes from Gilderoy Lockhart? Is he actually any good?”
Ginny frowned, drummed her fingers on the table for several moments, and then started to speak slowly, as though she were weighing each word before using it. “He, um… I guess you could say he’s a different sort of professor. He’s very popular, especially with the girls. He told us at Sunday breakfast that he already received fifty-one cards for Valentine’s Day. Hermione sent him one,” Ginny huffed as she rolled her eyes. “I’m certain Mum sent him one, too, although my parents could barely… Well, I think making everybody have to buy seven of his books for one class is a big waste of money. Of course Mum didn’t see it that way. She has all his home-maker books and was thrilled we would learn from him this year.”
“What’s he like as a teacher? He’s known for his flamboyance but rarely performs magic in public. Has he actually shown you anything he talks about in his books?” asked Remus.
“I’m afraid to say I haven’t learned about anything much this year except what’s in his books. I mean there’re good stories and all, but…” Ginny frowned, but then her eyes took a very mischievous glint. “He squealed really funny when his hair turned red! I honestly think I’d have learned more if Hagrid were the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor,”
“Hagrid would be an interesting Defence Professor. He could certainly take a hex or two,” Sirius chuckled in reply.
“My brother, Charlie, got along well with Hagrid. Charlie says Hagrid is the reason he got interested in dragons.”
“Dragons?” asked Harry.
Ginny nodded. “He works on a dragon reserve in Romania.”
Harry shook his head. “You have one brother who is a Gringotts Curse Breaker and another who works with dragons? That’s… that’s… I don’t… really impressive!” Harry said.
“Bill was also Head Boy here, just like your dad.” At Harry’s surprised expression she said, “I did look up as much as I could. I know your mum was also Head Girl. I think that’s really impressive!” Her face began to colour again, and she said a bit breathlessly, “If you went here I bet you’d be Head Boy, too.”
Harry sat there, not knowing how to answer a comment like that. “Thanks… I guess,” he eventually stammered.
Hoping to get the conversation back to less embarrassing topics, Harry asked Ginny about what the school library was like. Remus and Sirius asked her about the Gryffindor common room, wondering if it had changed much in the past fifteen or so years. Harry sat back a bit and watched her as she enthusiastically talked about the common room, her dorm room, and her overall impressions of the castle. Sirius and Remus excused themselves after a while, claiming the need to wash the dishes and clean up from dinner. Harry thought that odd because Blinkin did that, but he was grateful for the chance to talk to Ginny without grownups around.
They sat on a lounge sofa that faced the window overlooking the lake. On a whim Harry asked, “Do you like to fly?”
“On a broom?” Ginny looked about surreptitiously and then smiled sheepishly. “Nobody knows, but I’ve been sneaking brooms out of our shed at home since I was six. Everyone thinks I’m too little to fly, but I’d fly rings around my brothers before they knew what was happening. They have flying lessons here, you know. Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, told me I’m better than my brother Charlie when he was a first year!”
Harry watched again as she told stories about her brother Charlie, who apparently was an excellent Seeker while at school. Just as she had done in the Great Hall several days before, Ginny began a monologue, only this time it was on the various House Quidditch teams and their possibilities for taking the Quidditch Cup for the year. Harry listened, smiling slightly. Ginny’s warm brown eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and she began using her hands to express herself, physically emphasising her thoughts. She looked at him and blushed slightly at his smile, but her eyes never lost their sparkle. Harry remembered Sirius’ question from several night ago and thought that like this, relaxed and enthusiastic, Ginny really was pretty. He thought he might ask Sirius about that later.
Harry lost track of time listening to Ginny. Sirius startled them both by coming into the lounge to tell Ginny it was near curfew and time to leave. Ginny went beet red again and apologised to Harry for monopolising the conversation.
Harry smiled. “Are you kidding me? I’ve learned more about Quidditch in one night than Sirius taught me in twelve years!”
“Hey!” Sirius interjected.
“Well, okay. Maybe not. But when Ginny tells me about it, she makes it exciting! I know Remus has all sorts of plans, but could Ginny and I listen to a Quidditch match together some time?”
Ginny gave Harry what he mentally called ‘The Sunrise Smile.’ “I’d love to!” she replied breathlessly.
“And next time we meet, you get to ask the questions!” Harry told her. Ginny gave him another Sunrise Smile and walked towards the door.
As Sirius reached for his cloak, Ginny haltingly asked, “Sir… er… Sirius, I don’t mean to be rude, but is it alright if Remus takes me back to Gryffindor tower?”
Remus had raised an eyebrow, but Sirius merely shrugged and stepped back from the armoire at the door. Remus grabbed his cloak, raised the hood, and passed his wand before his face muttering, “Umbra.” His face now hidden in shadow, he opened the door.
Harry said with sudden panic, “Wait! I know tonight didn’t start very well.” He shot Sirius and Remus a withering glare. “I mean I know it takes time and work to be friends, but I’ve never really had a friend my age. I hope you’ll be patient and help me to do this right.” He felt his face grow warm for some reason and scraped the toe of his shoe on the floor before him. “It’s just,” he said awkwardly, “I’m really glad you want to be mine. My friend, I mean. I am not as exciting as you are, I mean I understand if you think I'm boring or something, but I hope you’d still like me to be your friend.”
He looked up at her and saw that she was blushing, too, but her eyes sparkled again, although differently from when she talked about Quidditch. She gave him a shy smile and said, "I’d like that." Then she quickly followed Remus through the door.
It warmed Ginny’s heart to see that her brothers, even Percy, were waiting for her as she stepped through the portrait hole. She gave them each a smile and a hug, even Percy, and let them know she was alright.
“I am a bit tired though, so I’m heading to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Thanks for waiting up for me! It really means so much.” She told them goodnight and headed to bed.
Once in her room, Ginny gathered her nightclothes and went to the lavatory to make ready for bed. The other three girls were in bed, too, but still awake. Ginny climbed onto the bed and immediately drew her curtains; she did not wish any confrontations with The Kates tonight. Once in private, she lay back against her pillows and thought about the evening’s events. Ginny ignored the disastrous beginning; she was still horrified by her behaviour to Mr… She smiled. To Remus. She was glad he had understood her request that he escort her back to the common room. It was important for him to know she trusted him, and it had given her a chance to apologise for her atrocious manners.
Harry had actually smiled at her several times during dinner. She just barely suppressed a happy squeal that one of her fantasies, sitting and talking to Harry Potter all by herself, had come true. His eyes were so green, and he had given her that smile. He listened to her prattle on about Quidditch, of all things, like what she had to say was actually important. And he told her he thought she was an exciting person!
Ginny touched her key through her night gown and smiled as she remembered that Harry had been the one to put it about her neck. With a satisfied sigh, she drifted off to sleep.
It was not until lunch the next day that Ginny realised, for the first time since the previous August, she had not thought about writing to Tom.
Sirius was pacing the lounge in agitation when Remus finally returned from seeing Ginny safely to the Gryffindor common room.
“So, now that we’ve had a bit of time to meet her properly, what do you think of Ginny Weasley?” Remus asked amiably.
“She seemed nice enough. After her initial reaction, she seemed to accept you rather quickly,” Sirius answered curtly as he continued to pace.
“The whole walk back was one long apology for her rude behaviour. I could hardly get a word in edgewise,” Remus said with a slight smile. “I told her the fact she even thought to apologise spoke volumes about her character. Hopefully we’ve put that issue to rest.”
“Yeah, well… look, Remus; I had Harry give me his memory of the prank sequence when the Weasley girl first arrived. We need to look at that in the Pensieve.”
Remus rubbed his chin. “Really? Whatever for? This evening turned out all right, but that prank won’t go down in the annals of Marauder successes, will it?”
Sirius stopped his pacing and began to tap the Pensieve with his wand. “Oh, my little prank definitely went pear-shaped quickly after she arrived. That’s what I told Harry when I asked to review his memory, but that isn’t really why I wanted it. I’m deeply worried, Remus. There’s something very disturbing about the girl. Watch the sequence from when Harry walks out of the study to when he cancels the various spells on me.”
Both men cringed as they watched what happened. While it was funny in hindsight, it was not the smoothest prank ever pulled. But as Sirius watched Ginny point her wand at his animagus form, he got chills again. What he saw confirmed his earlier doubts. He pointed out the first spell to Remus.
“What the heck is that thing she hits Harry with? I didn’t hear an incantation. Harry told me she said it was Egyptian! Watch the sequence again, from when Harry is hit with my prank until she runs for the door. Watch it closely, Remus,” Sirius said urgently.
After the second viewing Remus frowned and rubbed his chin again. “That happened so fast I’m not sure what you want me to see.”
“Where did her wand come from?”
“Well, you said she’s a fast draw.”
Sirius shook his head emphatically. “She puts her wand back in her robe pocket as the sequence ends, but her hand was never near her pocket when I leapt over Harry.” The two men watched the memory a third time. Remus looked at Sirius, completely confused. “I don’t think we’ve missed a thing, Remus. She never drew her wand; it just appeared in her hand, without any incantation or deliberate hand movement. We have no idea what spell she hit Harry with, and her stinging hex on me was also non-verbal.”
“I…” Remus let out a troubled breath. “Alright, let me see it one more time so I can watch that particular incident,” he said quickly. Returning from the memory, Remus sat back and stared at the ceiling beams. “We need to show this to Albus as soon as he has some free time,” he said after a long silence.
“Don’t forget, I won’t be here on Thursday,” warned Sirius. “No, on second thought, I can’t risk it. I’ll cancel attending the ICW closing feast,” he stated firmly.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” replied Remus cautiously. “It’s really important that you represent Albus at the dinner. The girl is a mere first-year student, Sirius. Between Harry and I, we can handle anything she might be capable of. I think you’re overstating the danger.”
“What if you can’t handle it?” Remus raised an eyebrow in surprise at Sirius’ question. “Look at things objectively, Remus. We have a first-year student whose Feynman Radiance lights a room. She can do bits of focused wandless magic, and she knows non-verbal magic including at least one spell we can’t remove. And, need I remind you, she's possessed by a Dark Magic object with Voldemort’s signature. Remus, what the bloody hell have we stepped in?” asked Sirius with a touch of panic in his voice.
Remus nodded in agreement. “I’ll show this to Albus first thing tomorrow morning,” he replied, now sounding equally concerned.
Chapter 6: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
Author's Notes: Viridian introduced the idea of a formal wizard’s society apology in Nightmares of Futures Past. I sort of expanded on it here.
Sirius Black was a fully qualified wizard, one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain, and a pillar of Wizarding high society. However, the expression on Albus’ face as he returned from the Pensieve made Sirius feel like a guilty child whose mother had just grabbed a switch and would soon march him to the broom shed. He shifted slightly in his seat as Albus sternly lectured, “I would not have expected such childish behaviour from two grown men.”
Not meeting the Headmaster’s eye, Sirius said, “We -”
Remus cleared his throat noisily.
“I,” continued Sirius with a slight sigh, “was merely trying to lighten the mood. Make the Weasley girl relax a bit, as it were.”
“I see,” replied Albus curtly.
“Well, be that as it may,” Sirius replied uncomfortably, “those bits of magic were completely unexpected. I’m quite concerned that Voldemort may be using the girl to get at Harry. I think it unwise for me to not be here tomorrow night.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sirius,” Albus scoffed. “Voldemort has no reason to suspect that Harry is even alive, let alone that he’s here.”
“How can you be so sure, Albus? Remember who we’re dealing with!” retorted Sirius.
“I fail to see your point,” said Albus dismissively.
“How did Voldemort know about the Philosopher’s Stone? Its existence was as closely guarded a secret as Harry’s,” replied Sirius more forcefully.
Albus stared at Sirius for a long moment and then scolded, “Perhaps if you were less irresponsible in this matter you wouldn’t be concerned.”
Oh no you don’t, old man, Sirius thought in anger. He leapt from his chair and leaned over the desk into the Headmaster’s face. With an ice cold tone, Sirius began lecturing Albus. “Don’t you dare insinuate that I am irresponsible with Harry’s safety! He, and Remus, are all I have left of the people I truly consider my family. I don’t consider the lives of others as mere pawns in my personal chess match with Fate. If there had been the slightest suspicion from anyone about Peter, I never would have suggested switching the Secret-Keeper. Harry’s life is worth a thousand of mine, Albus, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about that.”
Albus pursed his lips but said nothing.
Sirius stood and backed away from the desk. Staring Albus down, he angrily continued, “While on the subject of responsibility and Harry’s safety; who allowed Voldemort himself free access to this castle last year? I don’t know what he could’ve accomplished through Quirrell, but if he had known about Harry, we both know he would have attempted to finish what he’d started ten years before.”
Sirius began to pace before the Headmaster’s desk, venting his anger over the old wizard’s careless treatment with the lives of others. “And now we have Voldemort in the castle again! Ten years of nothing, and now, two years in a row, somehow he is back. And you call my worries irresponsible,” Sirius spat.
A slightly paled Albus held out his hands, palms up. “Peace, Sirius. I meant no disrespect to your guardianship of Harry. All my sources tell me that Voldemort’s Shade returned to hiding somewhere in the Balkans. He simply cannot be here.”
“Yeah? Well, why does that diary have his signature? Constant vigilance, Albus; or have you grown complacent? If the Weasley girl is a threat, Harry and I are gone from here. I am not willing to place Harry in a danger of any sort. What kind of magic is this for a first year student? Perhaps Voldemort might have managed such feats, but some little girl?” Sirius exhaled forcefully. “Has Minerva said anything about Miss Weasley showing this sort of ability prior to last night’s events?”
“Minerva has mentioned nothing to me regarding Miss Weasley’s academics. If the girl had done anything of this nature in class, I would like to believe she would have informed me. I will ask her, just to make sure. However, I expect she will be as surprised as you were.
“Regardless, I cannot imagine that this girl could pose a threat to Harry and Remus together. Sirius, it is imperative you be at the International Council of Wizards’ Closing Feast. After last week’s events, Lucius has stepped up his attempts to undermine me through his allies. You know as well as I that my post here is crucial if we are to succeed in changing the Ministry’s broken education system. We cannot allow the Pure-blood faction any uncontested platforms from which to spread their poison. For better or for worse, Sirius, you are our best spokesman for such an audience. I am relying on you to rally the other Governors, and our friends in the Ministry and Wizengamot, against Lucius’ influence.”
Sirius gritted his teeth in exasperation. “I’m trying, Albus, but these things don’t happen overnight. I’ve been telling you for years that we’re still at war, just in a different arena. You should have allowed me to get involved in the diplomatic and financial struggle sooner. Lucius has a significant advantage in garnering influence. There is a lot I must attempt to undo.”
Albus rubbed his eyes wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I admit that you were correct in this instance. Regarding Voldemort, however, there is nothing I’ve heard or seen that leads me to think this diary could be Voldemort himself. Sirius, have you asked Harry if there was any change in the connection between the diary and Miss Weasley while these spells were cast?”
Remus nodded and spoke for Sirius. “Yes, we talked to him this morning before Professor Aavgard arrived for Harry’s Runes class. We had him watch the memory just to make sure. He is certain the diary isn’t aware of anything beyond the person writing in it. I trust his judgement on this, Albus.” Glaring at Sirius he added, “And for what it’s worth, Harry’s opinion of those first few minutes from last night matches yours.”
Albus sat back and stared at the far wall for a moment before focusing on Sirius. “What about the Corresponding Diaries you acquired for comparison’s sake? What does he see with those?”
“There are no similarities whatsoever,” Sirius said emphatically. “I bought several of each so we could all write in them. A couple of unused ones remain, male and female, for the girl to use tomorrow evening. Harry saw no similarities between the signatures of the unopened normal diaries and that thing we confiscated from the girl. When Remus and I each opened a diary and wrote in it, Harry said the signature was quite different and far weaker.”
“We’ll continue our experiments,” added Remus. “Tomorrow we will have the girl write in a normal diary. That ought to give us a baseline for comparison when we start to study this Dark object. I’ll also ask her, tomorrow evening, where she got the confiscated diary. That information ought to help us trace its origins.”
“I concur with your approach, Remus. Based on last night’s events, I will give her some simple test spells to attempt on Saturday; I look forward to seeing if she can explain and repeat her abilities.” Albus smiled slightly. “A wandless, non-verbal action followed by two more non-verbal spells? If she truly has this sort of potential, do you think she would be an appropriate candidate for training under your Theory curriculum?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps,” shrugged Remus. “Could you run your tests in the morning? I want to see what she does, but Sunday’s the full moon. I doubt I’ll feel up to it by the afternoon. It’s my opinion that last night’s incidents were not accidental. Although frightened, Miss Weasley’s actions appeared too smooth, too practiced, to be accidental magic. That indicates a potential for her to grasp the basics of the Theory. Perhaps… perhaps she can give us a validation of my curriculum independent of Harry.”
“Ask about the confiscated diary, have the girl try the normal diaries, but take no other actions, Remus,” cautioned Albus. He looked at Sirius and said, “Is that all right, Sirius? I agree there is merit to your concerns for Harry’s safety,” Albus conceded. “I recommend there be no magic of any kind tomorrow.” Albus looked at both men. “Is that understood?”
“Thank you, Albus,” replied Sirius. “I suppose this is the best I can expect in this situation,” he sighed.
Albus gave both men a slight smile. “I want to observe her abilities, or potential thereof, first hand. Then, Remus, we can talk about your going forward with a new student.” He began shuffling some parchments on his desk and asked, “is there anything else I can do for you this morning?”
Taking the hint of their dismissal, Remus and Sirius rose and walked towards the door.
The two men sat in the tower lounge looking though their questions and answers in the Corresponding Diaries. The magic involved, although difficult to cast, was actually straight forward. Over time the enchantment on the diary would learn to anticipate what the owner would write or ask. However, it appeared to Sirius a lengthy process, even if one wrote several times a day. He wondered how long this girl had been writing in the mysterious diary.
Looking up from his diary, Sirius nonchalantly said, “Harry had a pretty full schedule today, but he’ll be finishing up his quarterstaff and martial arts training with Master MacClellan soon.”
“And your point?” asked Remus with a raised eyebrow.
Sirius huffed and replied, “Before he gets to his homework, I think we ought to go over his memory one more time.”
Remus stared at Sirius. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you go off like that with Albus for several years now.”
“This thing is very disturbing, Remus. Not to mention that after a decade of nothing, Voldemort is suddenly back two years running.”
“It could be a mere coincidence, Sirius.”
“No!” replied Sirius vehemently. “Where that bastard is concerned there is no such thing as coincidence. We could’ve missed something from last night, all right? We need to look again. We must know!”
“Harry’s going to think we’re mental,” sighed Remus.
“Not if we tell him why we want him to look again,” Sirius responded.
“I believe that is called leading the witness,” said Remus dubiously.
Sirius huffed again. “Aw… Merlin’s balls, Remus. This isn’t a Wizengamot Inquest. I want him to look for specific things. If he notices them on his own, fine. If he needs some coaching, we should do that next.”
Remus frowned. “I suppose so, but I’d rather we not prejudice him.”
“Prejudice him?” exclaimed Sirius. “This is exactly the way Lily coached us! She’d do the same with Harry,” Sirius said forcibly.
Remus’ frown became a heart-sore look. “That’s true; you give me a hard argument to refute.”
Seeing his friend’s face grow pale, Sirius realised he had gone too far. Hoping to take the sting out of his rebuke, Sirius smiled. “Moony, you know I’m an even bigger swot than you. I just hide it well.”
The edges of Remus’ lips twitched up. “Perhaps, Padfoot. Perhaps.”
Sirius suddenly sobered and told Remus, “I’m getting an International Portkey for tomorrow night. I’ll take my mirror with me. If anything, and I mean anything, seems off to you, call me. I’m taking a big enough risk as it is.”
At Remus’ nod of understanding, they both went back to reviewing their respective diary entries.
Harry moved stiffly down the stairs and into the tower’s ground level. That blasted MacClellan had really worked him this afternoon. He decided to ask Sirius if he could get that sword before his birthday. He thought if he was going to train this hard, he bloody well ought to have his reward sooner.
Sirius looked up from the dining table where he was setting the plates. “Rough training session, Bambi?”
“Ha, ha. Very finny, Sirius. But yeah, Master MacClellan has decided I’ve had it too easy of late.” Trying to look as innocent as he could, Harry said, “You know Sirius, if I improve enough, maybe I should get the sword before my birthday. It’s not like getting it early would upset the balance of the universe or something.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see. Call Remus to dinner, will you?”
Harry stuck his head through the doorway and bellowed, “Remus!”
“I’m right here, Harry,” Remus said from a chair about five feet from the door. “There’s no need to shout.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”
Remus smiled. “Do you honestly think I would miss one of Blinkin’s beef stews?”
The three of them settled into the hearty stew, slicing chunks of brown bread to dip into it. Sirius cleared his throat while they began to serve themselves seconds. “Er - Harry, after dinner, I want us to review last night in the Pensieve again.”
“What?” snapped Harry. He frowned at having to relive that embarrassment over again. “I don’t see why you’re rubbing my nose in your mess again. My behaviour was not out of line like some others’ were,” he added sourly.
Looking embarrassed, Sirius said, “Well, that’s not the reason. Remus and I want to go over the Weasley girl’s -”
“Ginny,” Harry corrected.
Sirius’ mouth twitched in a slight smile. “- Ginny’s actions and any change to the signature and threads from the diary.”
“Fine,” he replied, slightly bored. However, as he ate Harry began to appreciate the idea of watching Ginny move and cast those spells. She had been scared and upset, but even with that there had been a graceful flow to her actions. Nodding to himself, he began to smile. Maybe watching Ginny again would not be so embarrassing after all. He missed the wink Sirius gave Remus.
After the dishes were cleared away and washed, Sirius placed the Pensieve in the table’s centre. “All right, Harry. Let’s watch the memory from when you walk through the doorway,” Harry snorted in disgust, “to when Remus tells you to end all the spells. Just try to watch the whole thing, not concentrate on anything specific.” Sirius looked at Remus and smirked.
Harry sighed with exasperation. “I’m ready whenever you are.” Landing in the scene, he tried to watch with a detached frame of mind. “Huh!” he grunted as Ginny cast that nose hex and then hit Sirius with the stinging hex. He frowned as he watched her back against the entrance door in panic. He grunted again as she cancelled the nose hex. The three of them left the scene as memory-Harry began to call, “Finite.”
“All right, Harry,” said Remus, “did you notice any change in the threads from the diary to Ginny? Obviously something caught your attention.”
Harry rolled his eyes; these two were so thick! “No!” he exclaimed. “Once again, there was no change in the diary’s signature or the possession threads. I am positive that until the thing is open it has no awareness outside its own covers. However, watching that spell hit my face was not fun.”
“What about when she cast those spells?” Sirius asked in a worried tone. “Those were rather advanced spells for a first year, right Remus?”
“Well… Sirius, let’s focus on the here and now, please,” Remus told him impatiently. “Harry, did you notice anything about her when she drew her wand or cast any of those spells?”
“You know,” Harry said slowly, “I don’t think she drew her wand. And it’s actually four spells. That nose thing, the stinging hex, cancelling the nose thing, and she conjured that wand from somewhere.”
Remus shook his head. “She didn’t conjure the wand, Harry. Gamp’s First Law of Elemental Transfiguration. You can’t conjure or transfigure an innately magical object.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot, sorry. So just where did her wand come from?” Harry mused.
Harry went to the sofa and sat. He needed to compare what he subjectively remembered with what he had just seen in his objective memory. After some time getting nowhere, Harry looked up and said, “You’re leading me somewhere with this, aren’t you?”
Sirius lightly slapped the back of Remus’ head. “’I believe this is called leading the witness,’” he said to his friend with a mock whine in his voice. Remus smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
Ignoring their by-play, Harry continued voicing his thoughts. “Ginny’s signature flared much more than normal with each spell. She drew heavily on her core to do that magic, but why? I think she did by instinct. I think she wasn’t aware she was doing it.”
“Are you thinking it was accidental magic, then?” asked Remus.
Harry shook his head. “No, no. The flaring was focused, channelled though her hand and then her wand. It wasn’t accidental. Perhaps she was doing it unconsciously.”
“You mean subconsciously?” asked Remus.
“Uh, yeah. Anyway, can you do that? I mean can you do that without lots of training? I didn’t even realise that three of the four flares were non-verbal. The incantation she used to cancel that nose thing was… was something Egyptian. I don’t remember what she said. We should ask her about that tomorrow.”
“Are you certain it was her? Could the diary have been using her, or could she have been drawing upon the its magic? This is very important, Harry,” Sirius implored. “I don’t trust that diary thing, if it’s making her a danger to you, well I… I don’t know what to think about that.”
Harry looked sharply at his godfather. Sirius was hardly ever this upset about anything. “Let’s look at the whole thing one more time. I’ll pay special attention to the threads just to make sure.”
Returning from the memory scene again, Harry let out a long breath as he lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This doesn’t get any easier to watch, you know. That had to be the stupidest thing I have ever been involved with.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Harry, but it’s certainly in the top ten of stupid things,” Sirius chuckled.
Harry shot him an annoyed look. “Yeah. Thanks. Well anyway, to answer your question, no. There’s no change to the diary’s signature or its threads. No change in hue, thickness or flatness from my original observations. I keep telling you, when it’s closed the diary is not aware of its surroundings. Ask the other diaries we have. They’d probably tell you. Because so help me, if you make me watch that moment one more time I am going to start hurting people!”
Remus gave a small smile. “No, Harry. We believe you, honest. I think we should have the girl -”
“She has a name! It’s Ginny!” snapped Harry. Remus and Sirius shared an inscrutable look.
Harry wondered if now was a good time to ask some questions that he had not been able to answer over the past week. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he muttered.
With an exaggerated sigh, Harry spoke. “Actually, I have noticed some changes in the threads to Ginny.”
Remus and Sirius looked at Harry in surprise. “When? Last night?” Sirius demanded.
“Not last night, but in the anteroom last week. When she got mad at me… her signature flared around her. It got bigger and pushed both possession threads away from her. She didn’t break contact completely, but both threads were weaker while she was angry. And uh…” Harry started to feel his face warm a bit, although he was not sure why. “Uh, when I put my cloak on her, the thread to her chest grew thinner, and it stayed that way the rest of the time she was in the room. It seemed to be back to normal last night, whatever that means. Do you think that’s important? I mean, would emotions affect magic that much?”
There was some sort of silent communication between Remus and Sirius which Harry did not understand. Remus told him, “Harry, you know that emotions drive accidental magic and can influence the strength behind a wizard’s spells. Adrenaline does the same thing. The gir… Ginny was obviously on edge in that room.”
“That could be very important later on, Harry. Thanks for letting us know,” said Sirius encouragingly. “If you notice this effect again, we have to know about it, all right? Hopefully it won’t… I mean maybe we can use it to our advantage.”
“Yes, perhaps,” mused Remus. “Tomorrow night, let’s ask Ginny to write in several of the diaries you bought. Harry, I want you to watch her when she does. Look to see if there is any change to her signature or the threads. We’ll review that later, when she is not around. We can also compare those signatures to the one you saw between her and the confiscated diary in the Great Hall last week.”
“Both of you be careful, all right?” warned Sirius. “Remember I’m not here for dinner tomorrow. I’ll be in Prague.” Sirius gave Remus a long look and then winked at Harry and cheerfully said, “I’m the Contessa Marie’s escort for the ICW’s end-of-session banquet.”
“I say, Padfoot, isn’t she the dowager from Silesia? The one who always calls McGonagall ‘young lady’?” Remus replied, giving Harry a wink of his own.
Sirius blanched. “Merlin, no! This is Marie from Aquitaine, not Bohemia!” Sirius wagged his eyebrows. “She’s a lovely girl. An outstanding example of a Beauxbatons education, if you know what I mean!” He rubbed his hands together and smirked. “She has this brilliant sense of… of…” Sirius glanced quickly at Harry. “If things go as planned, I anticipate our evening to be rather… exciting. I expect to be back quite late, so don’t wait up for me.”
Harry looked at Sirius suddenly. “Do girls have more Veela magic when they get all excited?”
“What?!” squeaked Sirius. He gave Remus an alarmed look, matched by the one his friend returned. “I mean,” Sirius cleared his throat, “what do you mean, Harry?”
Harry knew he was blushing a bit. “It’s just that last night, when Ginny was telling me about Quidditch, she got really excited about it and she, she did look sorta, you know… what you said the other night.” At Sirius’s puzzled expression he quietly added, “Pretty. I mean her eyes got bigger and brighter, or something. She didn’t look any different, but then she sorta did. I don’t know. Her signature got a bit shinier again.”
“Oh!” Sirius answered with a relieved tone, which Harry thought was quite odd. “I think we all get a bit shinier when talking about something we love, or at least really enjoy. But no,” he chuckled, “that isn’t any sort of Veela magic.”
“Okay,” Harry said, shrugging. “I’ve got to get that Potions essay done or Remus will probably give me detention. I’ll be back down in a little bit.”
He bound up the steps to his room but stopped once he was out of sight of the lounge. Listening carefully he heard Remus tell Sirius, “You dodged that well; an answer without an answer, very clever.”
“I realised he wasn’t asking about that.” Harry frowned in confusion, wondering what that was that he had not asked about. “Do you remember how Lily got once she latched onto something? And Alice, too. I’ll bet their signatures would have had Harry wearing dark glasses! You should watch Nymphadora when she goes on about Auror training. As a matter a fact, you might like watching her when she goes on about her training.” Harry recognised the mirth in Sirius’ tone. He wondered if Sirius was teasing Remus about a girl friend. Shrugging at the possibility of future blackmail material, Harry silently continued on to his room and his homework.
Ginny arrived at the tower with Professor Dumbledore at half-past four. She had once again taken the time to have a complete shower. She hated the smell of mildew - and Merlin knows what else - that always clung to her after leaving the Potions dungeon. At least she was not late today, though!
She was surprised when Remus answered the door, and she looked about, wondering where Harry was.
Remus gave her a slight smile. “Harry has Potions this afternoon until dinner. He’ll be along shortly. He knows you’re here, and I’m sure he won’t dally with finishing his Everlasting Elixir.”
“Oh. Good!” Ginny replied self-consciously. Hoping she did not sound too anxious, she continued, “I had Potions this afternoon, too. But Remus, isn’t an Everlasting Elixir a N.E.W.T.-level potion?”
“Harry would be at a sixth-year’s Potions level if he were attending Hogwarts,” said Remus affably. “Come in and have a seat. How have you have been these past two days? Are you sleeping all right?”
Ginny gave the man an odd look. “Well, I um… I’m okay. Not too many people are bothering me, if that’s what you mean. I guess I’m sleeping okay, too,” she responded warily. Why did he want to know how she slept? Before sitting down on the sofa, she looked about the tower.
Remus smiled again, this time a bit more warmly. “No pranks tonight, Miss er… Ginny. I want to begin the investigation of your diary by asking a few questions, and I’d like you to make some diary entries tonight.”
Ginny’s blood froze. She was going to have to write to Tom? Tonight? He might be angry with her. He probably was angry with her. She did not expect to deal with him. She was not prepared! She remembered what had happened after she ignored him over the Christmas holidays. Tom had been very angry and had made her really hurt even after she had begged him not to.
Early on in her writing to him, Tom had begun accusing her of being bad just to get punished and then lying about it to make him feel guilty. Tom had told her the pranks she pulled at home were because she wanted to be caught and punished. Ginny had tried to convince Tom that he did not understand, but he merely scolded her for lying to him again. At first he wrote that her “depraved” desire for punishment was their “dirty little secret,” but later he began to blackmail her, claiming that he would tell her family how sick in the head she was, how tainted she was.
Ginny had expected the evening’s visit to the hidden tower to include a nice dinner and the chance to spend more time with Harry. Now she had to attempt to fool Tom into thinking she had not ignored him again. She glanced into the study but did not see the lectern with the case holding her diary. Where was he? Was he already in the room somewhere?
Her runaway thoughts were interrupted as Remus spoke again.
“Ah,” said Remus. “I am sorry, but it isn’t your diary I want you to write in tonight. Although I was wondering . . . where did you get that diary? It could help us in our research.”
“Mum and Dad got it as a surprise gift for me coming to Hogwarts,” Ginny replied, relieved. “I couldn’t believe they bought it for me, not after having to buy all those books for Professor Lockhart’s class. They put it in my Charms textbook so I would see it when I packed my school supplies,” she offered with a slight smile.
“Ah, I’m sure that was a very pleasant surprise,” replied Remus. “However, for tonight I have two different diaries for you to try. I want to see how you interact with them. We’ve previously checked them, and there is no trace of Dark Magic on them, if that’s what worried you.”
“Okay,” she said meekly. A wave of relief flooded her as she sat back into the sofa. She held her hands in her lap, hoping Remus did not see their slight tremble. She sat in an awkward silence trying to think of something to say. She did not want to apologise again for her behaviour the other night, but was not sure what else to say or do.
Her dilemma was solved as Sirius strode into the lounge looking like he had stepped off a cover of Witch Weekly. Somehow, in the aftermath of her fright and nervousness the previous Tuesday, she had forgotten how tall and handsome he was. Sirius was wearing dress robes cut from a fabric more lustrous and fine than she ever knew existed. He moved with a grace and confidence that awed her. This was the man she had stung two days ago! Ginny stared wide-eyed, feeling very immature, coarse, and low. She knew she was blushing brightly, but could not figure out what to do about it.
“Good evening, Ginny. How have you been?” Sirius asked politely, giving her a slight smile that never reached his cold grey eyes. For a second Ginny was reminded of that bothersome prat, Draco Malfoy.
“I’m sorry, sir… er…Sirius, I didn’t know I was supposed to wear dress robes for tonight,” she stammered under his stare. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realised how stupid they had been.
Sirius frowned at her for a second and then waved away her concern. “I request that you accept my apologies instead, Miss Weasley,” he replied formally. “I have a prior engagement in Prague that I have no excuse to miss. I would much rather be here to dine with such an… an interesting guest.”
Ginny looked down to her lap, blushing all the more. After a moment she looked up and giggled. She did not know why, but all the same she could not help giggling.
Sirius made a deep, formal bow. “And now unfortunately I must beg leave of you, dear Lady. I do hope my godson minds his manners tonight while I am off doing some grown-up codswallop.” He turned towards Remus and pulled a mirror, of all things, out of a seam pocket. “If you need me for whatever reason, Remus…” Sirius gave Ginny another hard look as he returned the mirror to his pocket. He moved to the fireplace, pricked his finger, and mixed a drop of blood with a pinch of Floo Powder. Throwing the powder into the fire, Sirius called out, “One eight nought two nine three; Hogshead.” He stepped into the flames and vanished.
“Did he just mix blood with the Floo Powder? And what was he saying when he used the Floo? That isn’t a normal Floo, is it?”
Remus looked at her shrewdly. She watched him ponder her questions, and then he smiled. “As part of the protections guarding Harry, the Floo network to the tower has a select few connections, and they are coded. Blood is the first pass code, and the verbal call is the second. Even if an enemy were obtain some of our blood, anyone coming or going must know the correct verbal call, which changes often. We were not exaggerating last week when we told you Harry’s safety is paramount.”
Ginny frowned. “But why? Do you really think Death Eaters would try to kill Harry after all these years?”
“Yes. I can’t tell you anything beyond that.”
“Oh.”
“So, Ginny! Received any Howlers lately?” Remus asked, changing the topic.
She sighed with a grimace. “I suppose you heard the one last Saturday?” Remus smirked but shook his head. “I’m surprised you didn’t. Mum was really er… really upset with me. Fortunately Professor Dumbledore told her not to send any more Howlers for me to the Great Hall.”
“So, just the one Howler then? You should consider yourself lucky.”
“Oh no. She’s sent one every day this week. She put a delay spell on them; they don’t open until five minutes after our owl drops them on the table. I have just enough time to reach a classroom on the ground floor. Since Professor Dumbledore has me sitting with the seventh year prefects, I have to run the length of the Great Hall to make it in time. It’s really embarrassing,” she added glumly.
“Perhaps you should ask Sirius about the Howlers he got from his mum. I am certain he can tell you some exciting stories,” Remus said with a devious grin.
Wide-eyed, Ginny answered, “Sirius got Howlers when he was here? Why?”
Remus’ grin grew even more devious, although Ginny was not sure how that was possible. “He got his first on the morning after our Sorting.”
“What did he do wrong so quickly?” gasped Ginny.
“Every Black that ever attended Hogwarts was Sorted in to Slytherin House.”
“But…” Ginny was puzzled. “But he was in Gryffindor with you and Harry’s mum and dad!”
“And that, young lady, is what got him his first Howler,” Remus told her with a smug smile.
“Whose first Howler?” asked Harry, walking into the lounge.
“Harry!” Ginny yelped joyously. She was amazed, once again, at the stunning emerald green of his eyes. “I mean, it’s nice to see you again, Harry,” she said in a slightly less exuberant tone. “So,” she added, fighting a blush, “er… how was Potions this afternoon?”
“Um… okay I guess. Remus, is the Elixir supposed to be a very light yellow when finished?”
Remus’ face became a blank mask as he responded, “What do you think the answer is?”
Harry sighed and answered, “Well, Mum’s notes in the book say pale yellow, but how pale is ‘pale’? It uh… it does look a pale yellow, you know.”
“It sounds like you got it right. I’ll check after dinner. You weren’t trying to rush to get down here, were you?”
Ginny did blush this time. Surely Harry had not hurried through his assignment just to see her. She looked down at her lap again, allowing her hair to cover her face, and worried at the fabric of her robe with her fingers. It was embarrassing but also secretly comforting to fantasise that Harry Potter had hurried through his classes just to see her. She let out a soft sigh.
“All right,” Remus said, rubbing his hands together, “now that Harry has joined us, I would like you, Ginny, to follow his lead towards writing in these diaries.”
Ginny’s hands started to tremble slightly again. She really did not even want to go near the study with Tom’s diary, so she felt greatly relieved when Remus pointed out a pair of books sitting on the dining table. Harry let her sit in front of them while he sat across the table from her, and Remus stood behind her.
“I know this will be strange to you, but I want to see what you write and how the diary responds while Harry watches the magical signatures from across the table.”
Ginny hesitated; Remus would watch what she wrote? What if she wanted to… She turned in her chair to face him. “Could I talk to you… alone… for a moment? Please?” she whispered.
“Harry, go see if your potion is still pale yellow,” Remus ordered immediately.
“What?”
“And don’t even think of sneaking back. I am warding this room for,” he looked down at Ginny, “for a moment.”
Harry glared at them both and stomped out of the dining room as Remus cast several spells about the doorway. “What did you need to talk about, Ginny? Don’t mind Harry, he’s being a bit of a prat at the moment. It comes and goes with him. He is a boy, after all,” Remus smiled.
“Well… I mean… am I supposed to write the same sort of things in these as I did with Tom?”
“That would be a big help and cut down the number of variables we -”
Ginny looked away from Remus to the warded doorway, and her face began to feel hot again as she returned her pleading gaze to him.
Remus looked confused for a moment, and then Ginny saw recognition shine in his eyes. He also glanced to the doorway before looking back at her. “Whatever I see will never be repeated to anyone. Not Harry, not Sirius, not even Dumbledore. If you would feel better with an oath, I will be happy to swear one out for you.”
Ginny shook her head rapidly. “No,” she said softly. “This will be hard for me with Har…him across the table, but I’ll try.”
Remus smiled slightly. “I was a confidante to a wonderful red-haired girl years before you were born. I’d consider it an honour to serve in that role again. All right?”
Ginny felt another wave of relief pass through her, and she nodded.
Remus took down the wards on the doorway and called out, “You can come in now, Harry, and don’t bother pretending you weren’t just outside the wards.” Harry slinked back into the dining room and gave Remus a sour look.
Ginny looked at Harry and said, “I’m going to start writing in the diary. Is there anything I need to do first?” Seeing Harry shake his head, she opened a dark brown book and began to write.
18 February, 1993
I am currently working on a school project and decided to take a break. I got a new diary and I wanted to begin to write in it.
She paused and stared at the ink on the page. “It hasn’t disappeared,” she said slowly. She looked up at Harry and continued, “My ink always disappears with Tom. And then his replies appear where I wrote.”
“I got”? What sort of grammar is this? With whom am I corresponding? The diary wrote back below Ginny’s entry in an elegant script.
Ginny sucked in a breath and tried to still the slight shake in her quill hand. She looked up at Harry and asked, “Well?”
“Well what?”
She gave an exasperated huff. Boy-Who-Lived or not, he was certainly thick! “The diary just answered me. Did you er… see… see anything?”
Harry shook his head. “There’s no change to your signature or the diary’s.”
“Oh,” she said with relief.
Are you still there? the diary wrote again. Are you normally this rude?
Rude? No! Ginny wrote back. It’s just a surprise to have my diary write back. You’re a corresponding diary I suppose. I’ve heard of them but never had one before.
I see. Since you know about Corresponding Diaries, am I correct to assume you are of magical blood? You mentioned school work. Besides providing me your name, what school do you attend?
Oh, I’m sorry! My name is Ginny Weasley. I’m in my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!
Ah ha, British then. Later 20th Century? Tell me, does Albus Dumbledore remain a professor at your school? He is, or perhaps was, a protégé of mine.
Professor Dumbledore is the Headmaster, sir, Ginny wrote. I don’t wish to be rude again, but Professor Dumbledore has worked with many wizards. Who are you, sir?
Yes, turn about is fair play, Miss. Allow me to make amends and properly introduce myself. My name is Nicolas Flamel.
THE Nicolas Flamel?
I am unaware that there are any others. Perhaps you can enlighten me?
Oh, no sir! I meant no disrespect. I never expected to write to someone so famous.
Well, of course.
I beg your pardon sir, but my study partner has returned with some reference books and I need to return to my essay.
Do so, young lady. Diligent academics are the basis for all success in life.
Well, thank you sir. I have to close you now, bye.
Ginny Weasley.
Setting the quill down and closing the diary, Ginny gripped the edge of the table. “That was not how Tom acted when I first wrote in him,” she said firmly. “I mean Tom encouraged me to write and tell him all about myself, and he was a really good listener.”
“Did you feel anything unusual with Nicolas? Sharp pain, headache, blurry vision?”
Ginny frowned at Remus. “No. But Mr. Flamel seems quite a stuffed shirt!”
Remus chuckled. “He did come off that way when you first met him. If you were to continue corresponding with him, you’d find he’d grow more accommodating to you and less…er… stuffy. He was a tremendous help with my Theory work. He was also one of Harry’s instructors.”
“Oh, no,” Ginny gasped. “I didn’t mean to be insulting!”
Harry’s snicker caused Ginny to blush and lower her head in shame. “Remus is right,” Harry said. “I grew up with him, and people who knew him like forever! But… yeah, he could be really stuffy at times.”
Remus cleared his throat, grabbing Ginny’s attention back from Harry. “What about with Tom? Did you have any headaches writing with him?”
“Oh, ah, well when I first got him, I’d write to him after my bedtime, under the sheets at home, and the light was really dim. That gave me headaches, but they stopped after a while. Is that important?”
“It could be, Ginny. Why don’t you try the other one now?”
Ginny reached over and grabbed a pale green book. Taking a deep breath, she opened it.
18 February, 1993
The diary of Ginny Weasley
I am currently working on a school project and my partner had to get another book. So I have decided to write in my new diary for the first time!
Again, Ginny held her breath as she watched the ink stay on the page. “So far so good, I think. What do you think?” she asked Harry, who looked at her and shrugged.
Hello, my dear. How are you?
Ginny thought the handwriting odd. It reminded her of the runes she had seen in some of Bill’s school books. She decided to try a slightly different approach with this diary.
You write back? Is this some sort of magic?
Of course this is magic, my dear. I am a Corresponding Diary, something people use to examine their thoughts. I can be a sounding board for you if you like, or I can be as unobtrusive as you wish.
Oh. Well, my name is Ginny. What is your name?
You may call me Helga, my dear.
Helga is a nice name! I’ve never had a corresponding diary before. I don’t want to be rude, but this will take some time to get used to!
Take your time, Ginny. Whatever you are comfortable with will be fine.
Do you have a name besides Helga? I mean who are you, how are you doing this? Wait, is this a prank?
No my dear, I am not a prank. I contain a collection of memories that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. She was a founder of a magical school in Britain a long time ago. As you write to me I can begin to answer you if you have any questions. It is something we both must grow accustomed to if you wish to have me as a confidante.
Turning to Remus, Ginny said, “Helga Hufflepuff? This could be really great. But that’s what Tom told me, and he’s a memory in a book, too.”
She wondered if she should trust the book. Her intuition told her this diary was different, but what if it turned out to be like Tom? How could she be sure it was different? Glancing up at Harry she asked worriedly, “Is there anything unusual? I mean anything like what you saw with Tom the other day?”
Harry pursed his lips and squinted at Ginny and the diary. After a moment he shrugged and shook his head. “There’s no change in your signature or the diary’s, at least not so far,” he replied.
“All right then,” Ginny said quietly to herself. She took a deep breath, let it out, and began to write again.
You’re Helga Hufflepuff! I go to Hogwarts! This is my first year here. The castle is wonderful. But, well, I was sorted into Gryffindor House. I hope you aren’t mad at me for that.
Nonsense, Ginny. Godric was a dear friend of mine. I am sure you make him proud.
Ginny was comforted by the diary’s sincerity. It had a far different feel from Tom. Frowning, she realised that Tom was no longer trustworthy as a friend. She really wished she could find someone to confide in, someone she could talk to about the whirlwind of things she had learned and felt in the past week. Remus had offered, but he was… well, he was like Harry’s uncle or something. Not that she did not trust Remus, but that would be just plain weird. Yet how would Helga respond if she learned of Ginny’s situation? Harry said there was nothing hinky with the book’s magic.
There was only one way to decide if she could ever trust this book. Ginny swallowed nervously as her quill rasped across the page.
Oh, good! Helga, may I ask you a question? It’s sort of personal but I don’t really have anyone else to ask.
Ginny glanced briefly at Remus and gave him another pleading look.
I mean there is this boy I met and I think I really like him. Well, I think I might like him like him, but I think he would be a great friend too, at least for now. Maybe when we are both older- Ginny paused and gathered her thoughts and courage- we can have more than a friendship. But right now it’s confusing and really embarrassing at times because I feel foolish when he is about. I try to be myself, and I think he likes that, but it’s just so hard to know for sure. It’s a bit silly actually because I don’t really know that much about him, really, but I want to. To learn more that is. Is there something wrong with me?
No Ginny, there is nothing wrong with you! I would guess you are somewhere between 10 and 13 years of age, since this is your first year at Hogwarts. Boys are such marvellous creatures! A word of advice between you and me; boys can also be quite aggravating, especially when they are young like you. Many girls make the mistake of trying to be what they think the boy wants them to be, rather than be who they are themselves. You are a wise young lady if you’re already avoiding that. Stay yourself, and then you will know if he likes for who you are instead of for someone you are not.
Really? Thanks Helga! That does help a lot. I have to go now, but I hope I can write more later. Bye for now,
Ginny
Ginny closed the diary and sat back, a feeling of satisfaction coursing thought her. “Remus, would it be possible for me to keep this one? She seems really nice. I mean Tom was really nice at first, too, but Helga seems different. She isn’t… I don’t know… she doesn’t seem as prying, and I think I like that.”
“I have no problem with you keeping that diary, Ginny. If you get used to her, maybe you can write to Helga here at some future time and we can watch the signatures to see if there is any change. What do you think, Harry?”
Harry seemed startled and a bit confused at the question. He looked back and forth from Ginny to the study. “Think? I uh… I didn’t see anything we haven’t talked about before. All the signatures are uh… well… there’s nothing worth talking about right now. Maybe we could talk later, okay? Yeah, it’s a good idea to talk later, if there were any changes, you know. I mean if you don’t mind, Ginny. You know… keeping that diary to uh… to write in.”
Ginny sighed in relief. She allowed herself a slight smile at Harry. He definitely did not think anything was wrong with this diary. What Helga wrote sounded wise, and maybe she was right. Ginny would be herself, and that way she could find out if it was really her he liked. Harry gave her a funny look, and she realised she was staring at his eyes again. For the hundredth time, she wished she had no blood vessels in her face; they were only good for embarrassing her anyway. Without them, and if she could just slow her heartbeat back to normal, everything would be all right.
Remus brought the food from the kitchen, apologising for what he called a simple fare. Ginny, on the other hand, was delighted with the fish and chips. She rarely got an opportunity to eat them since her mum could not stand the taste of codfish. The vinegar dip had a subtle, yet spicy taste.
“This is really good, Remus! You have to let Blinkin know how much I liked it!” said Ginny.
Remus looked confused for a second and then smiled. “Blinkin didn’t prepare this, I did. I’m glad you like it!”
Ginny stared at Remus, not sure what to say. She and mum did all the cooking. She was not sure if her Dad or any of her brothers knew the first thing about an oven or stove. The thought of the Twins in the kitchen was downright frightening.
“I’m sorry for staring, but Mum would never let any of my brothers near the kitchen to cook.”
Harry gave her that wry smile. “I don’t know if I could make a big meal, but I am rather good with breakfasts and lunches. Stews and the sort. It’s fun, actually!”
Ginny nodded. “Mum finds cooking relaxing, I think. She only seems stressed when someone tries to help.”
“What about you, Ginny?” asked Remus. “Are you a handy sort in the kitchen?”
“A bit,” she said, swallowing a bite of fish. “Mum let me do more last year. Of course there was only Dad, Mum, and me at home then.”
“Well, maybe you and Harry can make a meal together some time,” Remus told her affably. Ginny felt her cheeks heat up and groaned to herself, wondering if she were causing the room to glow. She saw a look of concern and then understanding in Remus’ eyes. “Or not,” he added quickly, giving her an apologetic smile.
“There are a bunch of good things about a dinner like fish and chips, right Moony?” Harry interjected with a smirk.
Remus looked at him warily. “Such as…?”
Harry laughed aloud. “We don’t need butter or gravy!”
Ginny gasped and looked at Harry, her face heating up. Did he have to bring that up again?
“Harry…” Remus warned.
Harry ignored Remus’ tone and began an exaggerated tale of Remus drowning in the water from a cistern Ginny had spilled. She burned with embarrassment as he asked if her table in the dining hall was surrounded by a moat for everyone’s safety.
Remus gave Harry a stare her mum would have been proud of and sternly chided, “That was completely uncalled for.”
“Moony,” Harry teased, “Padfoot always says a boring conversation makes for a boring meal.” And then he had the audacity to laugh at her!
Ginny sank into her chair, not saying a word. She wanted the earth to open and swallow her up right there. How dare he! She tried hard not to cry, because that would add yet another incident to her growing string of embarrassments. Of course that first evening was one big embarrassment after another, too, and now Harry was taking the mickey for her nervous clumsiness at the table. Did he see her as nothing more than some lower-class joke? Looking down to her lap again, she shook her head slightly and blinked away tears.
“Harry!” Remus snapped. “Ginny is our guest here. She’s had several rather disturbing shocks over the past week, the latest being just now when she discovered that the supposed saviour of the wizarding world is nothing more that a spoilt, ill-mannered, common boor.”
Harry abruptly stopped laughing. “I am not spoilt, or ill mannered, or…or…common!” he answered, sounding very defensive. “Besides, look!” he added defiantly.
Ginny heard a clinking sound and something being poured out of a container, followed by another sharp “Harry!” from Remus. She raised her eyes to see Harry’s right robe sleeve dripping with something. He stuck it in his mouth and began to suck on it.
Harry looked across the table at Ginny, his wet sleeve above the bowl holding the vinegar, and let the cuff fall out of his mouth as he caught her eye. He laughed. “It worked with gravy the other night, I thought I’d try it with the vinegar.”
Ginny stared at him, dumbfounded. The whole scene was positively absurd. This is like something the Twins would do! With this thought, she snorted and began to laugh, too. That act of mirth broke the ice for her, and she haltingly began to explain to Harry and Remus some of her twin brothers’ antics at the family table.
On a whim, she also told them of her own prank on her brother Charlie over Christmas of his sixth year. “I had to go put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and the clean ones, what few there were, in his room. His dirty clothes were nasty! I wondered if he had ever bothered to bathe or wash for the entire term. I’d found some wartcap powder in the Twins’ room while they were away at school, so I sprinkled it inside his pants as I put them in the drawer after unpacking his trunk.”
Harry and Remus both winced.
“He was walking sorta funny by lunch the next day, and he finally asked Mum for help with a ‘problem.’ Naturally, she wanted to know what it was, and he was really embarrassed he had to remove his trousers to show her. Mum was a bit shocked and asked him how it had happened. He guessed it was me, but since I am such an innocent angel,” she paused and batted her eyelashes, “he couldn’t blame me without proof. However, he stared at me, right past Mum, and said, ‘I believe a girl is responsible for this!’ Mum didn’t get the hint; instead she began to yell that this is what happens to those who cavorted with ‘scarlet women’. He tried to argue with her and that got him her version of ‘The Talk’ at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately, all the rest of us got it, too.”
Harry had initially looked confused, but he joined Remus as the man roared with laughter.
Ginny glowed inside as the other two laughed at her story. They thought she was funny!
Remus wiped his eyes with his napkin and put it back on his lap. Looking down he began to laugh all over again. “You must definitely tell Sirius that story some day. He is going to be upset he missed hearing it now.”
Sniffing in an attempt to control his snickering, Remus told Ginny and Harry, “On that note, I am going to have to excuse myself. I have a potion to test, plus I need to grade a Potions essay that was turned in late.” Harry flinched slightly at this. “Harry, why don’t you clean up here while Ginny has a seat in the lounge?”
“I can help clean up,” Ginny said tentatively. “It’s… it’s my chore at home.”
“Sure!” chirped Harry. “I’d love the help.”
“Well…” temporised Remus. “All right. Ginny, don’t let this spoilt, ill-mannered boor have you do everything. He can be sneaky that way.” Remus gave her a big wink and left the dining room.
The two children cleared the table and put the dirty dishes and utensils in the sink. Harry peeked out of the kitchen in the direction Remus had left. “Do you know any washing charms?” he whispered.
“Sure,” replied Ginny, “I can have these washed and dried in a trice.”
“Oh, great! Let me watch you, okay? Maybe you can teach them to me.” Ginny shot Harry a confused look. She knew something he did not? “I mean I know some cleaning charms, but none for washing dishes.”
“Really? I can show you. I’d be happy to teach you.”
“That would be great,” Harry said, sounding grateful. “Can I just watch you do the first few dishes?”
“Okay, if you think that will help.” With Harry watching her, Ginny self-consciously started the cleaning charm on the dishes in the sink. She followed with a rinse charm and then a drying charm. She did these slowly, one at a time, with several dishes. Harry watched her closely, almost squinting at her hand and wand. When she caught him squinting he would look away, out of the kitchen and towards the lounge. Ginny just shrugged at his odd behaviour.
“Mum helped guide me with the wand movements before teaching me the words. I can do that next, if it’s all right with you.” At Harry’s nod she stood behind him, hoping her hands were not too shaky or sweaty as she reached around him and gingerly held his wand hand. Carefully, she guided him through the proper motions. Satisfied that he could move his wand correctly, she let him practice the motions several times on his own. After that she went over the specific incantations, again having him practice the pronunciation until he was comfortable with it.
“Thanks,” said Harry, gratefully, as he washed several dishes on his own. When she was certain he grasped the individual charms, Ginny taught him the charm to make everything happen automatically. Harry watched as the dishes moved from the sink to the drying rack and said, “You’re a pretty good teacher!”
Ginny smiled shyly and replied, “Well, that’s just how Mum taught me. I’m surprised your -” Ginny’s face went white, and she drew in a sharp breath. She silently begged the Fates to allow her to be swallowed up into the earth. “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry… I didn’t think… I mean… Oh, I am such an idiot!” she said miserably.
A look of intense sadness flashed in Harry’s green eyes. He gave her a little smile that did not reach those eyes. “It’s okay, Ginny. I know what you meant. You made it easy for me to learn those charms. Your mum must be brilliant.” He gave her that wry smile, and this time it reached his eyes. Her heart twisted as she mentally berated herself for her thoughtlessness.
Harry cleared his throat. “Yes, well, why don’t we have a seat, and you can have your turn to ask me questions.” They sat on opposite ends of the sofa that overlooked the lake.
Ginny awkwardly smoothed her robes over her lap several times, not looking beyond the centre of the sofa. She could ask Harry Potter any question she wanted. Harry Potter! But what should she ask first? Years worth of questions flashed through her consciousness. She did not want to say anything ignorant again. Ginny thought of a question she expected would be pretty safe. Taking a deep breath she asked, “Did you see much of America when you were in those Dark Magic clinics?”
Harry blinked, blushed, and stammered, “Well, I…er…I was never in any Dark Magic clinics, and I haven’t been to America, I mean not to the American part anyway. That must be one of the stories made up about me to confuse people.”
“Oh.” Ginny suddenly felt quite stupid. “Were… did he…were you hurt?” she blurted.
Pointing at his forehead, Harry shrugged and said, “I got this scar. We think it was caused by the Avada Kedavra curse bouncing off me. Dumbledore himself doesn’t know what really happened or why this scar won’t fade.”
Ginny swallowed conspicuously and stared at the scar for a long second. That really is a curse scar! She shook her head as if coming out of a trance. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, “but thank you.”
Harry shrugged again. “Um, you’re welcome, I guess,” he said quietly. “I’ve always had it. I like to think it makes me rather dashing.” He gave her a slight smile.
Ginny did want to ask Harry more about that scar. However, feeling he might consider that rude and prying, she went back to her original ‘safe’ question. “So you never went to America?”
“Not for a clinic or anything. Sirius owns a bunch of land and an estate in Canada. It’s in Alberta Province, near a place called Banff. It is really pretty there, with a huge forest of evergreen trees and enough room to fly forever without worrying about Muggles seeing you.”
Curious, Ginny asked, “Do you go there often? I mean I would think this tower would be kinda confining after a while, wouldn’t it?”
“Sirius and I travel during my school breaks. Remus joins us when he can, but he always seems to be working on his Theory of Magic papers.” Harry looked at her and gave a noncommittal shrug.
“So were you ever in Nepal or Spitzenberg?” Ginny asked, confused.
Harry wore a puzzled look. “No, I don’t remember ever going there. I don’t even know where the second place is,” he added with a forced smile. “We usually stay in places where Sirius has estates or flats. For my safety they are in the Muggle parts of cities. Besides Canada... Let’s see… I’ve been to Teheran, Abu Dhabi, Tokyo, Caracas, and Modena.” He paused as that wry smile graced his face for a moment. “Sirius likes fast autos. He also owns a sheep ranch in Queensland Australia and two vineyards. One’s in Bordeaux, spread out about an old Muggle castle. The other one’s in California, but that one is new. I haven’t been there yet. Anyway, um… Canada’s my favourite.”
Ginny stared wide-eyed and then blinked. Sweet Merlin! He’s been all over the world! What she stammered was, “Oh. The Black family has houses in all those places?”
“Er... actually those are only the ones Sirius owns. His mother won’t allow him stay in any of the family owned properties.” Harry blushed at her continued wide-eyed gaze.
“What about your own home?” she asked slowly.
“My own home?” he asked, confused. A flash of comprehension lit his eyes. “Oh, um… I don’t remember anything about where we lived when I was little,” he said quietly. “Sirius and Moody thought it safer if I stay away from any Potter family properties until I am of age. Sirius keeps track of them through my family’s account managers at Gringotts. —“
Account managers at Gringotts? Only really rich people have those!
“- He’s contracted for Goblin guards to keep watch on them, so we know if anyone tries to enter any of the houses without permission.”
“So, you have houses, too, and stuff you’ve never seen?” she asked incredulously.
“Er… no. I mean I’ve never seen any of them, not even our cottage in Godric’s Hollow. I hope… I want to see them someday. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Ginny asked curiously. She thought it odd that Harry looked like he was caught out of bounds by Filch. He merely gave another small shrug. Ginny sat waiting for him to say more, but as the silence dragged on she realised he was not going to give any more of an answer.
While she waited for Harry’s answer she noticed that, somehow, they were both sitting much closer to the centre of the sofa than they had been before. She did not remember moving and had a fleeting moment of panic similar to waking up after one of her blackouts. Ginny took a deep breath and swallowed. Harry seemed ill-at-ease with these questions, so she thought of a topic that would, perhaps, be comfortable for them both.
“Who’s your favourite Quidditch team?”
Harry looked unsure. “I don’t really have one, a favourite I mean. Sirius is part owner of Portree -”
Ginny looked at him, stunned. Sirius owns a professional Quidditch team? Who the bloody hell are these people?
“- and I like the Wimbourne Wasps’ uniforms. So I guess they’re my favourites. I mean they’re the teams I follow the most.”
Harry still looked uneasy, but Quidditch was a very comfortable topic for Ginny. Recovering her bearings, she snorted. “Obviously you’re someone else who doesn’t know what the top half of the tables looks like,” she said with an antagonistic tone. To emphasise her point, she slowly shook her head and sighed. Despite his godfather owning a team, Harry clearly did not know that much about Quidditch.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry replied, sounding annoyed.
“Well at least your taste in teams is better than my brother Ron’s. He is a do-or-die Cannons fan.”
Harry stared at her, nonplussed. “Are you having me on? The Cannons? Is he mental or something?”
Ginny giggled. “That’s a question my family’s been asking for years!”
“So who is your favourite team?” Harry asked eagerly.
“Holyhead Harpies! I‘ve been a fan for as long as I’ve followed Quidditch,” she answered proudly.
“The all-girl team?” Harry burst out laughing, to Ginny’s surprise. “You must be mental as your brother!”
He had made fun of her again; how dare he! In a fit of pique Ginny punched him in the shoulder as hard as she could.
“Hey! Ow!! That hurt!” said Harry in an aggrieved tone. “And… and that wasn’t very nice,” he whined.
Ginny glared at him. “Mind your manners and I’ll mind mine!” Harry rubbed his shoulder and glared back at her. “Besides,” Ginny continued haughtily, “the last time I checked, Holyhead was above Wimbourne and Portree in the tables.”
“Oh… well… yeah. But the season has only begun.”
Ginny scowled at him. “Did you bother to follow the tables last season?” she said in challenging tone of voice.
Harry looked stunned for a second. “Well…” he slowly admitted, “yeah, they did really well last year.” Ginny continued to glare at him and then huffed. “Okay, the past five seasons. But still, an all-girl team is silly!” he said emphatically, “and so are you for rooting for them.” He began to laugh aloud again.
Ginny sat on the couch growing progressively angrier. This… this mocking, over privileged toff. How dare he treat her like this? “I guess Remus is right,” she spat.
Harry stopped laughing and frowned in confusion. “Right about what?”
“You are a boor!” she yelled in frustration, her voice catching slightly.
“I am not!” Harry replied, affronted. Ginny continued to glare at him. “Well I don’t think I am.” Ginny scooted away from Harry, back to her end of the couch. “Am I?” Harry finished in a melancholy tone.
Now in high dudgeon, Ginny finally lost her patience. “Just who do you think you are? Some nob that feels all noble by looking down and taking pity on us lesser folk? Is this your good deed for the week, bothering to talk Quidditch to some… to some stupid little girl?” She turned away and glared out the window as she blinked back tears and reined in her emotions.
There were many things she wanted to know about Harry, and many things she would like him to know about her. However, something she had never considered was that the Boy Who Lived would actually be ‘The Boy Who Is As Big A Prat As My Thick-Headed Brother Ron’. Ginny honestly did not know what to do. Harry had seemed so nice when they were in the anteroom with the professors the previous week. Was that all an act? Was he still trying to only ‘make her comfortable’?
She stewed in silence for a long time, ignoring a very quiet Harry. Still at the other end of the couch, she unconsciously began to worry at the key beneath her robes, pondering this completely unexpected turn of events. She had once relied on Tom for advice about situations like this, when she did not know what to do. But since he had hurt her after the Christmas holidays, she knew she could never again trust him enough to ask a question this personal.
What am I supposed to do now? she thought miserably.
Remus’ voice was a welcomed relief as he called down from the stairwell. “Ginny, I need you to get ready to return to your tower. I didn’t realise it was getting his late. Harry, have you finished the Arithmancy problems for tomorrow’s lesson?” Ginny stood abruptly as Remus entered the lounge. He looked between her and Harry, a frown appearing on his face.
“Thank you, Remus,” said Ginny in a formal tone. “I think it is past time for me to leave,” she finished frostily, and then brusquely walked out of the lounge. Remus quickly followed her, grabbed his cloak, and led her out through the tower’s entrance door.
Harry did not hear the door open and close. He was in the third floor gymnasium, completely focused on swinging punches as hard as he could at the gym’s hanging bag. He knew Master MacClellan would have his head for such poor form, but he did not care; he did not want to be in control. He wanted to burn off his aggravation. He wanted to rage, to hurt something, hoping maybe this whole evening would then make some sense.
What the bloody hell went wrong tonight? he thought as a clumsy combination slid off the side of the bag.
Remus called out, “Can you tell me what happened, Harry?”
Startled, Harry dodged away and rolled upright, fumbling for his wand through the stupid boxing gloves.
“Who says anything happened?” he snapped in response.
“Although she tried her best to hide it, Ginny was in tears all the way back to her dorm, and I come back to find you losing a fight to the punching bag.” Remus met Harry’s glare and smirked slightly.
Harry did not care that he sounded defensive as he answered, “Who says I’m frustrated? Maybe I like boxing; maybe, maybe I was trying something new to confuse an opponent! And I wasn’t losing!”
“Harry, you hate the smell of those gloves. What happened?” Remus asked again, gently.
“I dunno!” Harry answered, his voice sounding ragged. “We were talking and stuff, and then she got all mad at me and left!”
With a slight sigh Remus asked, “What were you talking about?”
“I dunno. I told you, just stuff. She asked about where I travelled. People really think I’ve been travelling to Healer clinics all over the world looking to have Dark Magic injuries healed? Merlin’s balls, Moony! I thought that was something you and Sirius made up as a joke! She told me her favourite Quidditch team is the Harpies, and I told her I thought it silly to like a team that only has girls.”
Remus heaved a larger sigh. “You made fun of her at dinner and then laughed at her over her choice of Quidditch team?” The older man shook his head, the slightest of smiles on his lips. “You are lucky she didn’t hex you into oblivion.”
“Well, so what? I don’t understand!” Harry shouted in frustration. “I make fun of you and Sirius all the time, and you don’t get mad at me.”
Remus paused and looked at Harry with pity. “Oh, Harry. Sirius and I have known each other for over twenty years. You grew up with us. We know each other rather well. Ginny doesn’t. She doesn’t know us at all. We are complete strangers to her. Have you considered that? A week ago she didn’t even know you were alive, and now she’s thrown into a strange situation and is probably quite overwhelmed. Friends are not made overnight, Harry. And to tell the truth, you both will have missteps along the way. But none of that will matter if you work to be her friend, and vice versa. Perhaps you should try to be less… less… abrupt with her. You’ll see.”
“Would it help if I apologised?” Harry asked as an idea formed in his head.
“Yes, that’s a good start. It wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps when she comes over on Saturday. Now, why don’t you have a shower, and then it’s off to bed with you.”
“All right. Good night, Remus.”
The older man smiled and said, “Good night, Harry.”
Harry walked down to his bedroom deep in thought, his idea developing into a plan. He started the bathroom shower to cover any other noise he would make. Ginny was really nice and funny. She liked Quidditch, and she still smelled like wildflowers. I’m a bloody idiot, Harry thought, a bloody idiot, pure and simple. A voice, sounding like Ginny’s, whispered in his head, “The Boor Who Lived.” Harry pushed his hands against his ears trying to silence the voice; he knew he was better than that. He would not wait until Saturday to apologise.
Harry went to his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, setting it next to the Helga diary he had brought to his room after Ginny and Remus left the tower. Writing an instruction on the back side, he then tapped his wand on the right side of the parchment and said “Ginny Revealo.” Harry paused, trying to remember the proper phrasing for a formal apology. Ginny deserved nothing less.
When finished, he continued to write what he thought was a rather long letter and actually added several more thoughts as post scripts. He looked over the letter and, satisfied with what he had written, tied the parchment around the diary. Using the shower noise to mask his footsteps, he snuck up to the sixth floor owlery and softly called, “Aurora.” An eagle owl came down and smoothly alit on his offered arm.
Harry urgently told the owl, "I’ve got a special delivery for you, girl. Take this to Ginny Weasley in the Gryffindor Tower right now. Okay? I'll have some extra owl treats waiting for you!” The owl stuck out her leg. After Harry attached the book and parchment, she gently cuffed Harry on the head as she spread her wings and flew off into the night.
As Harry returned to his room he heard Remus call, “Good grief, Harry, are you trying to drown in there?”
“I’ve just finished, Remus. I think this shower really helped tonight.”
Ginny had never been more grateful for the castle’s dark, creepy hallways. She had walked with her head down, hair falling over her face, certain Remus could not see her red eyes or hear her sniffles. Stepping through the portrait hole, she was actually relieved that none of her brothers had waited up for her. Opening the door to her room, her hope that her roommates were also in bed asleep was dashed. The Kates were in the middle of a vigorous pillow fight with Vivien looking on. All three looked at her as she slipped into the room.
“Oh look! It’s that measly hellion,” gloated the brunette Kate.
Not now, not tonight, thought Ginny as she gritted her teeth.
“Don’t you mean hell cat?” snickered the raven-haired Kate.
“Well she certainly looks like hell!” Both Kates began to giggle at their little joke.
I cannot begin to cry; not now, Ginny willed herself.
“Was detention bad tonight?” asked Vivien with concern.
Ginny looked at her, gave her a weak smile, and nodded. “I’ve had better evenings,” she said quietly. Collecting her nightclothes and toiletries, she walked past the giggling Kates with all the dignity she could muster and into the bathroom. Closing the door, Ginny leaned against the back side and pressed her fist against her mouth so she would not sob. Taking several deep breaths, she went to the sink, splashed cold water on her face and patted it dry. She groaned when she realised that she had left her comb on the stand next to her bed, but at least she could brush her teeth in the privacy of the bathroom.
Ginny paused as she undressed for bed, staring into the mirror. Against her bare chest lay that beautiful gold key. It looked so out of place on her short, skinny body. And she had all those freckles. They fanned across her nose and cheeks. They started again just below her shoulders all the way down her arms and down her chest, fading over her abdomen. She knew they were also down her back all the way to her bum. The freckles were ugly and they made her ugly, too. She hated them, she hated herself, and nobody cared about her.
A high pitched, oddly seductive voice whispered faintly in her mind. You know that’s how your soul looks, Ginny. When you killed those roosters you made it spotted and ugly, too. Who would want to have you as a friend? Even this boy you fancy is disgusted with you. He doesn’t care; he mocked your offer of friendship. But I still care, Ginny. You think you can forget me, but I won’t forget you. I am all you have left. You are alone; no one cares about you anymore. You will come back to me, Ginny. You always do. And I’ll be waiting…
Ginny shuddered and looked about as she folded her arms self-consciously over her chest. She had not heard Tom’s voice in her head without the diary open since before Christmas. She was frightened that he would know she had stopped writing to him again. He would be mad, and he was not very nice when he was mad. He always told her it was her fault he got mad; Ginny hated herself all the more because she always agreed with him in the end. She knew he would hurt her if she went back to him. I’d rather die than suffer that again, she thought. No, Ginny told herself, she could not go back to Tom. Not now, not ever.
Unfolding her arms, she held the gold key away from her. Ginny marvelled at its simple beauty and its constant warmth against her skin. The knowledge that Harry was alive and that she knew him was warming, too. She was certain that, for once, Tom was wrong.
Despite this, her self doubts rose again. What was she doing? Who did she think she was to try to make friends with such people, with Harry … no… with The Boy Who Lived? She was beneath them, and they all knew it. No wonder Harry made fun of her. Pulling her night shirt over her head and wrapping her robe tightly about her, she opened the door and rushed to her bed. Ginny grabbed her comb, closed the drapes about her bed, and began running it through her hair, reflecting on the evening’s events.
She had been so excited to see Harry again. But Sirius was off at some social event she would only read about in a magazine, yet he treated it as a bother. Harry had laughed at her awkwardness and then made fun of her Quidditch team. Before coming to Hogwarts she considered her trips to Ottery St. Catchpole big events. The rare journeys to the Kings Cross station in London were truly red letter days. Harry, however, thought nothing of travelling and owning land and estates all over the world.
Harry was The Boy Who Lived. What did she think she was doing? She was a tainted girl in second-hand robes from a second-hand life. She took the key out from under her nightshirt and played with it, the gold warmly reflecting the candlelight from the headboard sconce. Her mother always said not to make decisions in haste. But she wondered if she ought to tell Professor Dumbledore that this was all a mistake, to take back the key and Obliviate her. She decided to tell the Headmaster just that in the morning. For the moment she curled into a ball and wept silently, letting her despair consume her at last. She drifted off to a restless sleep holding the key in her hand.
Ginny did not think she had been asleep very long when those bloody Kates began to make a racket.
“Open the window, for goodness’ sake. It wants in and won’t stop tapping ‘til you let it.”
“Who’s it for? This is such a beautiful owl.”
“How do you know it‘s safe?” Ginny heard Vivien’s voice whisper fearfully.
“Honestly, Vivien,” sneered the brunette Kate. “Come to me, you silly bird,” she continued, expectantly.
“Hey! Not her,” said both Kates at once.
Ginny saw her drapes flutter. She dropped the key beneath her nightshirt, wiped her eyes, and parted the bed drapes. A large, regal owl promptly landed on her duvet and gracefully held out its leg. In wide-eyed surprise, Ginny looked at the owl, then at the package tied to its leg, and then at the window.
“Who would write her?” raven-haired Kate sputtered.
“Do you think she’s in more trouble?” brunette Kate asked hopefully.
“Probably,” the other Kate snorted. “Unless she has a secret lover!” The Kates began to laugh and looked at Ginny expectantly.
Untying the bundle, Ginny looked at the parchment about the package. “It’s from Professor Dumbledore,” she said in a flat monotone. “He’s reminding me I have detention all day Saturday.”
“See,” brunette Kate said gleefully, “I was right! She’s still in trouble! He sent her a composition book for her to write lines.” She laughed and closed the window as the large owl flew away. They both returned to their beds laughing at Ginny’s misfortune.
Ginny closed her drapes and peered at the parchment. She had lied; she did not know who had sent the note with the package, but it was not Dumbledore’s handwriting. On the outside, in the unfamiliar hand, was written, Read in private. Say your name and tap the right side with your wand. Intrigued, she peeked out of the bed drapes and let a frustrated sigh. Her wand was just beyond reach on her nightstand. She looked about quickly, saw that none of her roommates were in sight, and called her wand to her hand. Removing the parchment note, she saw that it surrounded her Helga Hufflepuff diary. Remus must have sent it, she thought sadly. It was something else she would return in the morning.
She felt silly as she whispered, “Ginny,” to the parchment and tapped it with her wand. She blinked as the same unfamiliar and rather untidy writing appeared on the parchment scroll. Ginny started to read the note quickly but stopped in shock. She stared at it, hardly able to breathe. Ginny reverently touched her key and began to reread the note slowly, a smile appearing on her lips as she savoured the words.
To Miss Ginny Weasley:
My behaviour earlier this evening was
Humbly at your service,
Harry James Potter
Dear Ginny,
Okay, I didn’t want to wait until Saturday to apologise, you deserve better. I will apologise again, personally, when we see each other again. I’m sorry I was a prat. I didn’t mean to insult you even if I did. I mean I make fun of Sirius and Remus all the time and that’s okay because we know each other really well. So I thought it was okay to act the same way with you. I now understand that I don’t know you that well, at least not yet, and so my behaviour wasn’t nice. I wasn’t being a good friend. Remus told me making friends took time and hard work. I didn’t know what that meant until now. I still want very much to be your friend, and to have you as mine. Will you help me to behave nicer around you? Because you can see I don’t know how. In return I can help you with your schoolwork. If you want me to that is. I’m actually pretty good with that. I will hard try not to be a
Your friend (I hope),
Harry
P.S. The story about your prank on your brother was brilliant.
P.P.S. The book is your new diary you left here when you left mad (sorry).
P.P.P.S. Hide this letter somewhere safe. It is charmed so only you can read it, but I would rather no one find it anyway.
P.P.P.P.S. Don’t tell anyone about this letter! Remus and Sirius will have my arse if they find out.
Your friend (still I hope),
Harry
Chapter 7: A Riddle wrapped in a mystery
Harry squinted at the diagram before him, moving his hands in an attempt to understand the page’s static depiction of movement. The Muggle world had many benefits over the magical one, but in this instance he sorely missed the moving pictures. Harry looked up from his book as Sirius walked into the dining room and sat next to him at the table.
“They’ll be here in a moment, Harry,” his godfather warned. “Dumbledore will still want you to leave, but I remain against it. It’s important that you know tomorrow’s game plan. Just stay relatively inconspicuous, all right?”
Harry sighed and nodded. Apparently some of the other adults, specifically Professor Dumbledore, were still against his involvement in planning the agenda for Ginny’s first all-day detention. Harry felt a flash of irritation over Dumbledore’s using him as merely a tool. The Professor thought him old enough to be involved in a search for Dark Magic objects but not old enough to be involved with their disposal. Once again he chafed at being selectively treated as a child.
“Who does Moody side with?” Harry asked, curious.
“Me and Remus,” Sirius replied.
“So, the Professors are outnumbered again, yeah?” Harry said with a slight smile.
“Yeah.” Sirius barked a laugh and ruffled Harry’s already messy hair. “But don’t make him regret his decision that you’re old enough to take part. Also, Minerva is not opposed to including you, so be a good boy and she’ll be on our side next time!”
Remus joined them at the table, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. “They…” he began when the fireplace erupted into green flames and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall stepped into the room.
Dumbledore gave Harry a quick glance before greeting Sirius. “There you are. Minerva was able to obtain a blood sample from the girl -”
Harry opened his mouth to correct the Headmaster, but Sirius nudged him and shook his head slightly.
“- so you can key the Floo for her use between my office and here. We shall arrive by Floo from now until the end of the term. This should prevent questions when she disappears into my office for the duration of her detention. I strongly advise limiting her access to these two points, however. Do you agree?”
“Yes, thank you, Albus,” Sirius replied. “I’ll wait for Alastor to arrive before invoking the charm.”
“Of course, Sirius; a wise decision,” Dumbledore responded, giving Harry another glance.
After several minutes of exchanging pleasantries, the fireplace flared green again and Moody stepped into the tower. He shook the soot from his travelling cloak, looked about and huffed, “Last again, heh? Must be a sign of old age.” He caught Harry’s eye and gave him a discreet wink. “Oh, there you are, Albus! I saw your brother before coming here; Aberforth asked me to convey his contempt.”
Harry withheld a snicker, knowing it would not help the case that he was old enough to attend this meeting. Instead he pondered why Moody always made that remark whenever he Flooed from the Hog’s Head. At one time Harry had thought that the phrase was a private joke between brothers, but as he grew older he was no longer certain.
Moody looked at the book on the table in front of Harry. “Good boy!” he nodded approvingly. “You see the manoeuvres become more demanding as we move into three dimensions. It’s something Muggle pilots have mastered, but it seems to confuse most wizards.”
“Albus,” Sirius said loudly, rising from the table and moving to the fireplace, “why don’t you start off whilst I cast the charms to key this portal for the gir -”
Harry cleared his throat loudly, causing Sirius to sigh slightly.
“- for Ginny,” Sirius finished.
“Yes, that’s fine, please do so. However, Sirius, before we discuss tomorrow’s events I want to express my displeasure over what occurred last night.”
Harry sank into his chair, trying not to look guilty.
Sirius finished applying the small blood samples to the fireplace lintels and drew his wand to cast the acceptance spell. “What ever are you on about?” he asked nonchalantly. “The Contessa and I were being the soul of discretion. It’s not our fault some Muggle decided to return to his office at that time of night.”
Harry was extremely grateful that Sirius and Remus were the recipients of McGonagall’s furious glare.
Remus snorted a laugh and coughed. Harry thought he might have said “braggart.”
Dumbledore frowned. “I hadn’t heard about that, nor do I wish to. I want to know why you found it necessary to challenge Lucius Malfoy to a duel after the feast.”
“Huh? You’re talking about that challenge?” asked Sirius in surprise. “Trust me Albus, killing Lucius last night would have eliminated half your problems with the Board of Governors. Although some here consider blood-feud duels barbaric, it’s legal on the Continent. It’s certainly what an insidious bastard like Lucius deserves.”
“Sirius! You will mind your choice of words with a child present,” snapped McGonagall.
Before Harry could object to being called a child, Sirius winked at him and replied innocently, “Why, Minerva? Harry knows full well what ‘insidious’ means.”
“I remain at a loss to understand how such a duel would aid my efforts,” Dumbledore interjected harshly.
“Of course you do,” Sirius muttered. Louder he continued, “It wouldn’t, Albus. The almost duel last night was over money, not politics. Young Draco’s transgressions and punishments have cost Lucius a considerable amount of money as well as loss of face at the Ministry. That’s what made him a bit tetchy. What he called me out for last night was about his loss of control over the potions ingredients market -”
Alastor looked up. “That was you? You’re responsible for the market’s collapse?”
“Alastor, I am shocked you’d make such an accusation,” Sirius replied sarcastically. “Everyone knows that scoundrel Michael DuSult did it. Of course, having a silent partner with very deep pockets never hurts,” added Sirius with a predatory smile.
Dumbledore gave Sirius a concerned look. “How long do you anticipate the market fluctuations to continue? It is exceedingly difficult to budget for next year’s supplies in the current environment.”
“The potions market will stabilize within two weeks. You’ll find prices lower than before; Michael’s distribution system is a far more efficient than Malfoy’s medieval scheme.” Sirius shook his head in disgust and then paused for a moment. “So… Ah, yes. Lucius began to cast aspersions upon the Black Family name, and I simply called him on it. ‘Twas a pity Dear Cousin Cissy pulled him away. She doesn’t seem keen on reminding him she’s a former Black.”
“Yes, yes, all right,” Dumbledore sighed somewhat impatiently. “This discussion has strayed too far afoul. Let’s return to the purpose of our meeting here. Over the past week, Harry’s had several opportunities to observe the Weasley girl. Tomorrow I want a conclusive answer about the source of the magic she’s used -”
Harry closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, and softly huffed.
“- and where she obtained the diary. From there we shall devise a plan of attack to break the possession, study the diary and then destroy it. Since tomorrow is our first full day of investigation into this diary artefact, I want to make certain last night’s meeting went more smoothly than Tuesday’s.”
“Er… yes. About that, Albus -” Remus began.
McGonagall interrupted, saying, “Miss Weasley -”
“Ginny!” Harry said with a loud, aggravated whisper. He then gulped as McGonagall paused and pinned him with a flinty stare.
“I have never made it a habit to call my students by their first names, Harry, and I have no intention of beginning to do so now,” she said pointedly.
Harry looked down at the table, abashed.
“As I was saying,” McGonagall continued, “Miss Weasley was in very high spirits today. Most of her professors mentioned that to me.”
“That is excellent news, Minerva,” replied Albus, nodding. He made a sour face at Sirius. “I am relieved to know that the previous disaster was not repeated.”
Sirius gave Remus a questioning look and they both looked at Harry. “Remus and I haven’t discussed last night in any detail, but I’m not aware of anything untoward occurring last night. Am I right, Remus?” Sirius asked warily.
As the other man nodded, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He really did not want to discuss the previous evening with the two professors present.