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SIYE Time:13:59 on 29th March 2024
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The Corpse Wore Toilet Paper
By lucky_black_cat

- Text Size +

Category: Hogwarts Express Challenge (2006-3)
Characters:None
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff
Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 29
Summary: ** Winner of Best Overall in the Hogwarts Express Challenge **
When the corpse of a Death Eater is found in the bathroom, aboard the Hogwarts Express, it will take inter-house to cooperation to solve the murder, and save Ginny's life along the way.
Hitcount: Story Total: 14099; Chapter Total: 2744





Author's Notes:
A small disclaimer: Thanks to Spenser Hemmingway for the beta work and for letting me use the curse he invented, Tempus Fugit. He's got a fic with that same name, and it's completely awesome, so check it out if you can!




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Chapter 3



Luna drummed her fingers on the table and smiled placidly at Harry. “Yes, Harry, I will say again that Neville was with me. I remember it clearly, and I’m sure he does as well,” she said without the hint of a blush.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Right, then,” he nodded, and cleared his throat. “Did you hear any sound coming from the bathroom?”

“No…sorry,” Luna shook her head. Then, she turned to look at Ginny, who was still sleeping on the table, as nobody had managed to wake her. According to Ron, she was a heavy sleeper — so after five minutes of fruitless attempts, they had let her sleep. “I wonder what she’s dreaming,” Luna commented, humming and looking at Ginny with interest. “At least she doesn’t snore,” Luna added happily.

The door of the compartment opened and in came the strangest party Harry had ever seen. A nervous-looking Hermione was being flanked by Theodore Nott, who was levitating the unconscious form of Pansy Parkinson. He made her float through the door, grinning broadly when she hit her head against the doorframe, and released her on the floor. Harry looked at Nott through raised eyebrows, fighting the urge to laugh.

“Oh, hi!” Luna said greeting the newcomers, as if such a thing happened every day. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you. Not interrupting, are we?” Nott asked, walking in with Hermione in tow. He went toward a chair that was near Pansy’s body, and when he pushed the chair back to sit down on it, he hit Pansy’s side with its leg. “Oh, sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. Ron burst out laughing, and Harry joined him in no time.

“I think,” chuckled Ron, sitting down too, “that you may not be that bad after all, Nott.”

“You don’t know what a burden your blessing takes off my shoulders,” Nott answered sarcastically.

“That’s all, Luna, you may go,” Harry told the blonde witch, who was watching the exchange with a dreamy smile. She got up, wished them a Heliopath-free day and waltzed out of the compartment.

Once it was only Harry, Ron, Hermione and Nott in the compartment (plus the sleeping Ginny and the unconscious Pansy), Nott took the vial out of his robes. “When I asked to talk to Hermione earlier, I gave her the spell that unlocks the Slytherin compartment and asked her to search it,” he explained, fingering the vial. “She found this inside Pansy’s trunk.”

Harry took it from him and examined it. Meanwhile, Ron asked, “What happened to Pansy?”

“She caught Hermione and tried to stun her,” Nott told him, shooting a dirty look at Pansy. “However, I stunned her first and Hermione and I decided to bring her here.”

“What’s this, anyway?” Harry asked, fingering the vial. “It looks like Veritaserum.”

“That it does,” Nott nodded, “but its effects couldn’t be more different. It’s a Dark Potion called the Draught of Double Deadliness.”

“The Draught of what?” Ron asked, frowning.

Nott sighed. “The Draught of Double Deadliness,” he explained, “is a very ancient Dark Potion that is, as its name indicates, deadly in two ways. At first it was invented to reinforce the Anima Mortem Spell which, you may be interested to know, was the beginning of Dementors.”

“But I thought Dementors were magical creatures?” Hermione asked, frowning.

Nott smiled. “The first Dementors were witches and wizards who were deprived of their souls by the force of a curse, Anima Mortem. That’s one of the Seven Dark Spells, which are, of course, forbidden by the Ministry of Magic. You might have heard of those.” Harry, who remembered having read up on the subject, nodded. Nott continued. “Anima Mortem means death of the soul in Latin. That’s what the curse does — it separates the victim’s soul from their body, hence turning the victim into an empty shell. Their body still functions correctly, but the person as such has died, because souls can’t survive very long out of the person they belong to.”

Ron looked from Nott to Ginny, horror struck. “Are-are you saying that someone cast that…that curse on Ginny?”

“Of course not,” the Slytherin replied haughtily. “If she had been cursed, you would know. But that’s beside the point. The point is, some people can’t be affected by Anima Mortem, because they’re too powerfully magical, or because they’ve got a natural resistance. That’s what the Draught of Double Deadliness is used for, it weakens the drinker and reduces their resistance to the curse.”

“Ginny has a great magical potential,” Harry said, looking at the redhead who was still sleeping peacefully. “Seeing as this vial is only half-full, I reckon Pansy slipped her the Draught of Double Deadliness during breakfast to weaken her natural shields.”

“Was Pansy paving the way for somebody else who intended to put that curse on Ginny, then?” Hermione suggested.

“Either that, or Patsy was thinking of the other use of the Draught of Double Deadliness,” Nott suggested.

“What’s that?” Hermione asked curiously. She, Ron and Harry were listening intently.

“The Draught of Double Deadliness is also deadly in its own right. It weakens the drinker faster than any other potion or curse you could ever find.” Nott’s expression became very sombre. “The symptoms of being under its influence are exhaustion, slower reflexes, sleepiness, withering of the skin and darkening of the hair,” he added significantly.

Harry, Ron and Hermione gasped, all at the same time. They looked at Ginny and realised that all the pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly. “That’s not all,” Nott added. “The final symptom comes three hours after drinking the potion.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked, though deep inside he already knew the answer.

“Death,” Nott answered, looking at Ginny with a sorrowful expression on his face.

Hermione choked a sob, threw her arms around Ron and began crying on his shoulder. Ron ran his hand down her back, trying to soothe her, but tears were running down his own cheeks.

“Pansy gave her that thing?” Harry exclaimed, furious. “I’ll kill her,” he announced, taking out his wand. “Someone revive her, I’m not going to kill her while she can’t defend herself,” he instructed, remembering that she was unconscious.

“Killing Pansy won’t help Ginny,” Nott told him reasonably. “Besides, if we keep the hag alive, we’ll be able to get information out of her. After that, you can torture her. Hell, I’ll help you, but leave her alone for now.”

Harry subsided and, after a final murderous glare at Pansy, sat back down and tried to calm down. After a while, Hermione had stopped crying and both she and Ron were in condition to speak. Nott, meanwhile, was watching Ginny with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Something doesn’t make sense, though,” he said pensively.

The rest looked at him expectantly, and he elaborated. “It’s half past one already. Breakfast was at nine — Ginny should have died at least an hour ago.”

Harry quickly put two fingers on her neck, and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “She’s still alive, though. I can feel a pulse.”

“Which makes me wonder,” Nott continued, “…whether Ginny’s natural resistance isn’t holding the poison back, somehow making it work at a slower pace.”

“That makes sense. If it’s the case, it buys us time as well,” Harry replied hopefully.

“Judging by her actual state, I’d say we’ve got about another three hours until her death,” Nott told the others, who immediately perked up. “Don’t start celebrating so soon, though,” he added bitterly. “The antidote takes twelve hours to brew. So unless someone is carrying a flask full of antidote for an extremely rare Dark Potion…”

“…there’s no way we can save Ginny,” Hermione finished for him.

“There’s got to be a way,” Harry insisted, refusing to give up hope. “There’s always a way.”

“Hermione, wasn’t there another vial in Pansy’s trunk?” Ron asked desperately.

Hermione shook her head. “I checked. There were only clothes and other personal stuff.”

“I can’t believe she’s going to die,” Harry said, his voice breaking as his eyes stung with unshed tears. “I can’t believe there’s nothing we can do to save her…” He got up from his seat and moved his chair so that he was right next to Ginny. He let his palm touch her once smooth skin as he started to cry.

“It’s so unfair,” Ron sobbed. “It’s not her time to go… she’s too young…”

“Ron’s right,” Harry thought. “It’s not her time to go…” “Time…” he muttered aloud, as an idea started to form in his brain. “Theodore,” he called the Slytherin, who looked at him questioningly. “Theodore, do you know the Tempus Fugit Curse?”

“Of course,” Nott answered. “What are you thinking?”

*****


Harry was leaning against the locked door of Compartment P, which was the most isolated from the rest. He watched in silence as Hermione lit a fire under Nott’s cauldron, while the Slytherin prepared the ingredients of the antidote on a small wooden table. None of them could believe that they had managed to get their hands on all the ingredients they needed in less than half an hour — apparently, Class C Non-tradable Substances weren’t as hard to find in the average student’s trunk as Harry and the rest had supposed, and for that they were grateful.

“So, you think it will work?” Harry asked, watching Nott cut Boomslang skin with a silver dagger.

“Let’s hope it does,” Hermione answered, sitting down on a stool with a sigh.

“We’ll never know if we don’t try, right?” Nott told them happily. It was easy to tell that he loved working on potions. “Do you remember the incantation, Pot-Harry?”

“Who would have thought I’d be on first-name terms with a Slytherin one day,” Harry chuckled. He took out his wand and went over the spell in his head. “Yeah, Theodore, I do.”

“Remember, try and channel as much energy into it as you can,” Nott told him. “If you could make time go four times faster than usual, I think we might be able to save Ginny.”

After discussing the theory related to Tempus Fugit, a Curse which made people age extra quickly, Harry, Hermione and Nott had come to the conclusion that, if the spell was cast on a room instead of on a person, it would cause time to go by faster inside that room. The plan was that Ron would stay in the other compartment looking after the sleeping Ginny while Nott and Hermione brewed the potion inside Compartment P. Harry, who was going to cast the spell, had managed to get his hands on some Veritaserum to use on Pansy later.

“Ok,” Harry told the others, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to do it.”

Silence as the one that followed that predicament had never been experienced by any of them. Hermione and Nott watched Harry intently as he closed his eyes and concentrated. He let himself remember all the good things that he had experienced with Ginny — their first kiss, their afternoons by the lake, their nightly talks in the Gryffindor Common Room — and he let the love he felt for her fill him completely. The feeling was close to overwhelming, but as perfect as a phoenix song, and Harry knew that if Ginny were taken away from him, his life would lose its meaning. It was then that he felt the power unleashing inside of him, melting into him, and as he performed the spell, with every fibre of his being he wished it would work.

A moment later, he felt his own power lingering in the air and he knew, without opening his eyes that it had worked. He looked at the small clock on the table and almost cried in relief when he saw its hands were moving much faster than usual. He grinned widely as Nott thumped him on the back and cried, “I’ll be damned if the Sorting Hat didn’t misplace you, Harry!”

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Harry told them, grinning widely. “I’ve got an innocent student to interrogate!” he called as he went out. Harry heard Nott snort and ask him to ‘kick Pansy’s oversized rear’ before the door closed behind him.

*****


Harry sat on tenterhooks on the floor next to Pansy. He extracted a small vial from his robes and poured three drops of it into Pansy’s mouth. Pointing his wand at her chest, he muttered, “Enervate.”

Pansy stirred and opened her eyes slowly and blinked several times. Then, she turned her unfocused eyes on Harry and looked at him blankly. He helped her to a chair and sat in front of her, next to Ron, who was holding the sleeping Ginny’s hand.

“Are you Pansy Parkinson?” Harry asked her, deciding to go for the easy questions first.

“Yes, I am,” she answered in a toneless voice.

“Do you know who we are?”

“You’re Harry Potter,” she replied. “The redheaded boy is Ron Weasley, and that’s his sister Ginny.”

“Pansy, did you give Ginny the Draught of Double Deadliness?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yes, I did. This morning at breakfast, I put it in her pumpkin juice without her noticing.”

“At what time was that?”

“At about half past nine.”

“How did you manage to distract her?”

“I told her a story about building new bonds and working hand in hand with old enemies.”

“Why did you say that to her?”

“I need to get close to Harry Potter. I need him to think I’m on his side, his trust would be very valuable to the Dark Lord’s plans.”

“So you support Lord Voldemort?”

“I shall follow the Dark Lord to the end. He has the right ideas. With him, we can build a magical world where only those worthy of being called witches and wizards will be allowed to learn magic,” Pansy told him with a twisted smile. “Potter and his friends are only pawns in the Dark Lord’s game. It’s a matter of time before they are swept off of the board.”

“What was Bellatrix Lestrange doing on the Hogwarts Express?” Harry asked her, looking her in the eye.

“The Dark Lord had a plan: “Keep Potter occupied and away from the Weasley girl, Parkinson,” the Dark Lord said to me, “So the coast will be clear for Bellatrix.” I did what I was told, and I kept Potter as long as I could, telling him the same story about unity that I had told the Weasley girl at breakfast. Bellatrix was to use that time to carry out her own instructions. I don’t know what they were exactly.”

“Do you have an idea of what she had to do, Pansy?” Harry asked, giving her his full attention.

“It was something to do with Polyjuice,” Pansy replied. “She was to obtain hair from one of Potter’s friends, Ginny Weasley if possible, and get the real person out of the way. Bellatrix was to use a Dark Spell of sorts to keep the person’s body alive and working, though, so she could keep cutting the hair for the potion. That’s all I know.”

“Was this curse Anima Mortem, by any chance?”

“Yes.”

“There’s something I don’t understand, though,” Harry said. “Bellatrix was already going to do Ginny in through that spell, and in spite of that you poisoned her. Why?”

“I thought that, if Bellatrix chose Ginny as a target, the Draught would destroy any natural shields she could have against the curse, and if she didn’t choose Ginny, the draught would get her out of the way in any case.” Pansy looked almost deranged now. “I’ve seen Ginny and Potter together. He’s in love with her, I can see it in the way he looks at her. If she is killed, Potter will fall to pieces and it will be easier to get him out of the way as well. The Dark Lord will reign over the wizarding world forever.”

Stupefy,” Harry muttered, pointing his wand at Pansy. Her head dropped on top of the table as she was knocked out. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, at least we know more than we did before,” Ron said, sighing too.

“We know why Bellatrix was on the train, but not who killed her. Pansy obviously didn’t, why would she kill someone who was on her side?” Harry groaned in frustration. “We should go back to the bathroom. We must have overlooked something. I’ll ask Luna to look after Ginny.” He got up and walked towards the door of the compartment, but Ron didn’t move. Harry turned to him and, raising his eyebrows, asked, “Are you coming or not?”

“Sure,” Ron got up and kissed the top of Ginny’s head. Harry sighed and opened the door to walk out. “Harry, wait,” Ron called him, and Harry stopped and turned to look at his best friend. “Is it true?” Ron asked, an unfathomable expression on his face.

“What is true?” Harry asked, confused.

“Pansy said you’re in love with Ginny. Is it true?” Ron fixed Harry with his blue gaze.

Harry sighed and smiled. “Yeah… it is,” he told Ron. “You… you don’t mind, do you?”

With a wide grin, Ron pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “Are you kidding? This is wonderful! Harry, have you told her this?”

“Well, no,” Harry confessed with regret. “I knew my feelings for Ginny were pretty strong, but I never realised I’m in love with her, until I almost lost her today.”

“You’ve got to tell her, Harry. She’ll wake up, and then you’ll tell her this you’re telling me. I’m so happy for both of you,” Ron smiled.

“I know. The first thing I’ll do is tell her,” Harry smiled back, looking at Ginny’s sleeping form. “We’ll have months, years, ages…”

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