Hello everyone! Well, I've actually gathered enough nerve to post. A big thanks to Caity for being my beta. Here goes nothing... *takes deep breath*
Prologue
Pacing the length of the office belonging to the headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall glanced out of a nearby window in search of any sign of news to ease her worrisome mind. Disappointed with the clear, owl-free sky, McGonagall refocused her concentration on pacing the now threadbare rug, only to pause to peek at her wristwatch that told her it was a quarter to twelve.
"Minerva, we'll know soon," said the portrait above the desk she was standing behind.
"Surely you're worried as well! It's been two days."
"My dear Professor, it is best we do not dwell in the horrific game of 'what-if's'" said the portrait above her.
"Perhaps I should send for some tea, or even a nice gillywater?"
"That is quite unnecessary," McGonagall firmly said, taking a seat at the desk, untouched since its previous owner.
The next few minutes posed as hours. Silence filled the room, only to be interrupted by the occasional snore from one of the many portraits that hung on the walls. As the clock struck midnight, the heavy oak door slowly opened. Minerva McGonagall jumped at the sight of an exhausted, blood stained Harry Potter. Taking a couple of steps forward, his legs could no longer support his weight and he collapsed to his knees. Slowly looking up, not towards Professor McGonagall, but to the portrait of his former headmaster and mentor, Harry panted for breath. He finally said in little more than a whisper, "He's dead. It's over."
Trembling over these words, Professor McGonagall looked over to see the grave expression upon the face of Albus Dumbledore.
Hundreds of miles away, a young expectant woman found herself pleading with the housemaid of a derelict shelter. Just moments from delivering her baby, the housemaid stared into the hollowed, dark eyes of a once stunningly attractive woman, whose face was lost of the entire creamy color it once glowed. Her hair void of all lustre, now limp upon her shoulders. Eyeing the stains covering her dress, the housemaid simply asked her name.
"I'm Margaret. Margaret Morose." breathed the stranger.
Looking to this woman pitifully, she agreed to let Margaret in and led her into a small moldy room where she delivered a baby boy. Taking only a single look into the face of her son, Margaret fell into an eternal sleep.
****
Eleven years later, Ms. Clarice Durgan sat at her dining table, sipping her cup of coffee while browsing through the daily news while waiting for her son to appear for his birthday breakfast. Looking up through a grand window out to a marvellous blue sky and luscious flower garden, she allowed herself to drift into nostalgia.
It was nearly eleven years ago when her car broke down in front of an unsightly shanty on the way to a charity auction at the British Museum in London. Clarice exited her May Bach to accompany her driver as he asked the housemaid if he could borrow her telephone to call for help. Letting them into the small shelter, Clarice laid eyes on the most precious baby. Sleeping soundly in a bassinet in the tiny den, she gently bent over to pick up the newborn. Breathing in his sweet smell of perfection, Clarice forgot herself. Always longing for a child of her own; the untimely demise of her husband left her alone and barren. After a few moments of pure heaven, Clarice returned the baby to his bed and said to the housemaid, "You have a lovely son."
"No, he ain't mine," the housemaid replied. "Some weird sad lady wus here few days ago and had 'im. I've jus bin lookin' after the tike till he gets 'imself a family."
This was Clarice Durgan's dream come true. After spending a few more moments with the housemaid, Clarice finally asked if she could take the child and set up the procedures for his adoption. The housemaid agreed; she had work to do, and caring for the newborn kept her away from her chores. Simply elated, Clarice returned home with her son and called him Tom.
Now eleven years later, Tom would be soon starting the the prestigious Eton Academy. Little did she know, other arrangements for his education would be made.
Later that day, a tiny man in a strange suit came to visit. Offering him some fresh lemonade in the garden, he introduced himself as an admissions consultant from a very prestigious school called Hogwarts. Clarice, having never heard of such a place, shook her head slightly, but before she could speak, the tiny man handed her a pamphlet to read. "All the information you need is written right here," he squeaked. Tom gazed at the pamphlet most curiously for it was completely blank. Then Tom saw the little man give him a quick wink and returned his attention to Clarice.
"As you see, our school was founded several hundred years ago. Its students and alumni take part in a most secret society. One with powers you could only say were 'magic.'" stated the man.
Clarice couldn't help imagining her son strong, powerful, and full of success; she then agreed to send Tom to attend Hogwarts. While signing all the necessary papers for admission as well as supplies, the man asked Tom to take him for a walk around the garden. Looking up from her papers, she smiled as her special boy showed their visitor his favorite game. A game he plays with his pet boa constrictor, Attila, which he gets to move and slither in all sorts of ways, while he makes up his own language. Reaching over to the patio table to retrieve her lemonade, Clarice couldn't believe that in only a few short weeks, her son would be on his way to greatness.
Full Version: A Dark Ascension
Yes we'll definately see more familiar characters and even catch a glimpse of the trio all grown up a little later. 
Thank you for those suggestions, Janet. I've went ahead and included them into the prologue.
Darcy, yes Clarice Durgan is an old aristocratic, wealthy woman who is a complete snob. I think it's very fitting that Tom ended up with her. Don't worry, we'll know more about Tom as the story goes; he's quite mysterious and doesn't even let me know too much about him.
Thank you Crsdba and TheTwilightPrincess for reading, and of course, Caity.
And on with the next installment:
Chapter One
Four years into his magical education, Tom Durgan breezed through his classes, earning top marks. A charming, handsome young man, he became quite popular within Slytherin, the house the sorting hat placed him in when he first arrived at school. But it was not only his peers who admired him; many of his teacher grew fond of Tom, especially Professor Slughorn, the potions master and head of Slytherin house. Only after a few brief conversations during class in Tom's first year did Slughorn make him the prized jewel of his Slug Club. Professor Flitwick quickly forgot any concerns he once had about Tom after recruiting him at Durgan Acre's. After seeing incredible aptitude, Professor Flitwick encouraged Tom to join the dueling club, which was reinstated some many years prior during the war. Only the headmistress seemed immune to Tom's enthrallment. Something that seriously irked him; Tom even wondered if perhaps this was due to his own over excitement when being told he was a wizard. At eleven he had no idea that most wizards condemned Parselmouth, not to mention his uncanny ability to manipulate the will of unsuspecting individuals such as his mother. Tom now knew better. His most revered gifts he would keep to himself for the moment.
With the summer holiday drawing to an end, Tom looked forward to returning to school. Secretly he always preferred Hogwarts to the luxurious estate passed through his family for generations. He felt compelled to learn all the secrets the ancient caslte had yet to reveal.
Underneath an old yew tree in the garden of Durgan Acre's, Tom sat with Atilla curled around his legs with a book called Hogwarts, A Completely Revised History. Flipping through the pages, Tom let out a laugh.
"Wasssss ssssso funny?" hissed the boa constrictor.
"You won't believe the crackpot who wrote this rubbish. He's absolutely mad!" Tom spat and hissed. "He actually criticizes the school for ever allowing house elves to work without pay. The sole purpose of the ugly creatures is to cook my dinner and clean my house. Who ever thought of paying a house elf?" Tom continued to chuckle until a brown screech owl landed on top of his open book. "About time," said Tom, taking the letter as the bird got up and flew away. Reading the front of the envelope, Tom let out a soft groan at the sight of his name. "Tom, a name fitting of lowly commoners," he hissed. "For how many years did I ask mother to call me something else? But she insisted Tom was a strong, sturdy name. The name of my father. A man stupid enough to get himself killed." Tearing open the letter and throwing the envelope aside, Tom glanced over the required texts for fifth year students as well as announcing that he was to take the O.W.L. exams. The second letter brought Tom a bit more delight for it told him he was elected Slytherin prefect. Picking up the shiny badge, he felt quite pleased with his new position of authority. A position that might just come in use during his exploration of the school grounds.
*********
Sitting at her desk, Professor McGonagall put down her quill to look up at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. "I sure hope you know know what you're doing," she said.
Dumbledore merely nodded, telling her, "We'll all know in due time."
At these words, McGonagall shifted in her seat and returned to writing the many letters the previous headmaster requested.
Thank you for those suggestions, Janet. I've went ahead and included them into the prologue.
Darcy, yes Clarice Durgan is an old aristocratic, wealthy woman who is a complete snob. I think it's very fitting that Tom ended up with her. Don't worry, we'll know more about Tom as the story goes; he's quite mysterious and doesn't even let me know too much about him.
Thank you Crsdba and TheTwilightPrincess for reading, and of course, Caity.
And on with the next installment:
Chapter One
Four years into his magical education, Tom Durgan breezed through his classes, earning top marks. A charming, handsome young man, he became quite popular within Slytherin, the house the sorting hat placed him in when he first arrived at school. But it was not only his peers who admired him; many of his teacher grew fond of Tom, especially Professor Slughorn, the potions master and head of Slytherin house. Only after a few brief conversations during class in Tom's first year did Slughorn make him the prized jewel of his Slug Club. Professor Flitwick quickly forgot any concerns he once had about Tom after recruiting him at Durgan Acre's. After seeing incredible aptitude, Professor Flitwick encouraged Tom to join the dueling club, which was reinstated some many years prior during the war. Only the headmistress seemed immune to Tom's enthrallment. Something that seriously irked him; Tom even wondered if perhaps this was due to his own over excitement when being told he was a wizard. At eleven he had no idea that most wizards condemned Parselmouth, not to mention his uncanny ability to manipulate the will of unsuspecting individuals such as his mother. Tom now knew better. His most revered gifts he would keep to himself for the moment.
With the summer holiday drawing to an end, Tom looked forward to returning to school. Secretly he always preferred Hogwarts to the luxurious estate passed through his family for generations. He felt compelled to learn all the secrets the ancient caslte had yet to reveal.
Underneath an old yew tree in the garden of Durgan Acre's, Tom sat with Atilla curled around his legs with a book called Hogwarts, A Completely Revised History. Flipping through the pages, Tom let out a laugh.
"Wasssss ssssso funny?" hissed the boa constrictor.
"You won't believe the crackpot who wrote this rubbish. He's absolutely mad!" Tom spat and hissed. "He actually criticizes the school for ever allowing house elves to work without pay. The sole purpose of the ugly creatures is to cook my dinner and clean my house. Who ever thought of paying a house elf?" Tom continued to chuckle until a brown screech owl landed on top of his open book. "About time," said Tom, taking the letter as the bird got up and flew away. Reading the front of the envelope, Tom let out a soft groan at the sight of his name. "Tom, a name fitting of lowly commoners," he hissed. "For how many years did I ask mother to call me something else? But she insisted Tom was a strong, sturdy name. The name of my father. A man stupid enough to get himself killed." Tearing open the letter and throwing the envelope aside, Tom glanced over the required texts for fifth year students as well as announcing that he was to take the O.W.L. exams. The second letter brought Tom a bit more delight for it told him he was elected Slytherin prefect. Picking up the shiny badge, he felt quite pleased with his new position of authority. A position that might just come in use during his exploration of the school grounds.
*********
Sitting at her desk, Professor McGonagall put down her quill to look up at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. "I sure hope you know know what you're doing," she said.
Dumbledore merely nodded, telling her, "We'll all know in due time."
At these words, McGonagall shifted in her seat and returned to writing the many letters the previous headmaster requested.
Thank you for reading and your reviews, Evie and Helen.
Yes, Tom is quite the arrogant little you-know-what.
Okay, I have chapter two back from my wonderful beta, so I'm going to bombard you with another chapter. (can you tell I've had a busy weekend
) But to give you a heads up, I have a pretty busy week ahead of me, so it'll be a short wait for any more installments.
Here goes:
Chapter Two
Growing tired with the same conversations between his mother and her hoity-toity friends, Tom managed to excuse himself, saying he had a few matters to tend to before departing for school. Making his way to the Leaky Cauldron, he tapped the bricks that would reveal Diagon Alley.
Strolling along the cobbled street, Tom's first matter of business would be to stop by Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Once inside he found an available goblin who exchanged his muggle money for one hundred thirty-seven galleons, seventy-two sickles, and five knuts. His pockets heavy with gold, Tom made his way out of the congested doorway where he bumped shoulders with a tall, lanky, red haired man wearing clothes fitting for his gardner. "Do watch where you're going," said Tom. The red haired man simply said, "Sorry," but Tom distinctly heard him say "slimy git" under his breath. After a few moments, Tom ordered all his text books as well as potion refills, quills and a dozen rolls of parchment and paid to have them delivered directly to Hogwarts where they would be ready for Tom's first day. With a considerable amount of time to spare, Tom went to Madam Malkin's to purchase new robes. As Madam Malkin busied herself with Tom's measurements, he overheard some students he thought were second year Gryffindors or perhaps Ravenclaws. Tom rarely ever paid attention to anyone who was not a Slytherin.
"You've never been to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? You have to check out their belch bombs! It's so loud you can hear it all the way to Hogsmeade from your dormitory. And the stench sticks to you all day, and boy is it worse than a dungbomb!"
"Wicked!"
Honestly, Tom thought, belch bombs.
Finished at Madam Malkin's, Tom walked further down Diagon Alley, seeing a crowd of kids surrounding a display of the new belch bombs, also seeing two more red haired men in ridiculous magenta robes wearing a bubble head charm. Turning his head the other direction, Tom noticed a small alleyway called Knockturn Alley. Curious to see what lies ahead, Tom checked his wristwatch. Excellent, he thought; Tom had loads of time before he had to meet his mother. Gazing into the windows of various shops containing outlawed potions, shrunken heads and multiple amulets, Tom came across a shop which sparked his interest, Borgin and Burkes. The shopkeeper, an oily haired man by the name of Mr. Borgin stood behind a glass counter, looking through a monocle at a tiny ruby amulet. Hearing the door close, Mr. Borgin looked up at Tom in utter surprise, causing the amulet to fall out of his hands and disappear into thin air. "You!" he said. "But it can't be.... dead for fourteen years."
"I think you may have had too much drink, my man. The name's Tom. Durgan," said Tom. "You have an interesting place here."
"Yes I do. Only the finest materials of... questionable properties. You lookin' for something, boy?" asked Mr. Borgin.
"Nothing has caught my eye just yet," replied Tom, stepping closer to the glass counter, eying an old battered, rolled up piece of parchment. "What is that?"
"That would be of no use to you," said Mr. Borgin.
"I didn't ask you its use, I asked you what it is," interrupted Tom.
"It's a map; said to have been written by Salazar Slytherin himself. But I never..."
"How much?" asked Tom.
"Oh, it's not for sale," replied Mr. Borgin.
"How much?" repeated Tom, dropping a pile of gold onto the counter.
Taking a deep sigh, Mr. Borgin pocketed the gold and handed Tom the parchment, "Very well," is all he said.
Tom thanked Mr. Borgin, then turned to leave the shop in order to return to his mother.
*************
Stretched out on one of the comfortable seats within the prefect's compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express, Tom ignored the speeches given by the Head Boy and Girl, and attempted to take a nap.
"I should have known you'd become my Slytherin counterpart," said a pretty girl with curly blond hair and glowing olive skin by the name of Celia Burke. "Patrick was in absolute uproar wehn he didn't receive a badge. Always going on and on about how it was his legacy, seeing how his cousin Pansy was prefect and all. This should make for a fun year. I can't wait to dish out lines and detentions to those silly Gryffindors," chuckled Celia, gently shifting Tom's legs to make room for her to sit.
"I could care less about the other houses. And I have better things to do than to waste my time on handing out trivial punishments," replied Tom.
"Oh, is that so," said Celia, slightly taken aback at his remark. "Are you going to share with me your plans, or am I going to have put a tail on you?"
"Celia, for your benefit I'm going to ignore that last comment," barked Tom, placing his legs on top of Celia's lap. "Now please keep quitet; I would like to take a nap before we arrive at school."
"Yes, Master Durgan," Celia said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Would you like me to wake you when the lunch trolley appears?"
"Just keep quiet," smirked Tom, as he closed his eyes, thinking of the wondrous secrets the Slytherin map would reveal.
"Tom! Wake up! We'll be late for the feast if you don't get a move on!" screamed Celia Burke.
"Go reserve a carriage and I'll be along in a moment," said Tom, smoothing down his hair and quickly changing into his school robes.
Boarding the horseless carriage, Tom sat next to Celia, across form Patrick Parkinson, who had a sour look to his oval face. "My, my. Once again we're to be the last to arrive thanks to Mr. Durgan here," said Patrick.
"Hold your tongue," threatened Tom, who had little patience for such brazenness.
Taken aback by Tom's threat, Patrick did not dare utter a single word throughout the ride to the castle.
Inside the warm, torch lit enterance to the Great Hall, Tom strolled across the houses, taking his seat towards the head of the Slytherin table. Watching tiny Professor Flitwick place the wooden stool in the center of the Great Hall, Tom hoped the sorting would not take long, as the sorting ceremony grew dull over the years. Finally, thought Tom, as the last student took his seat at the Ravenclaw table. Professor McGonagall took to the podium to make her beginning announcements. "Welcome to Hogwarts, first years, and welcome back to our returning students. I would like to remind you all the Forbidden Forrest is out of bounds as well as the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year and without a signed permission form. Mr. Filch has aksed me to remind you that included in his list of banned items is belch bombs. A full list of the some nine-hundred items can be found attached to his office door."
At that moment, caretaker Filch let out a loud howl, startling everyone in the Great Hall. "Pull yourself together!" McGonagall firmly said.
"I'm s-s-sorry. Mrs. Norris d-d-died," sobbed Filch, face buried into his hands as he scampered out of the Great Hall.
"Well, what are we waiting for, let's eat," resigned Professor McGonagall as dishes of roast beef, mashed potatoes and many custards appeared upon the tables.
"So no more Mrs. Norris this year," said a Slytherin fourth year.
"And about time too," replied Patrick. "That cat's been here ages. Pity we still have Filch."
"I'm sure he won't be too much of a bother, seeing how he's grieving over that mangy feline," added Celia Burke.
Tom couldn't help but take delight in this new development. This year showed infinite promise.
Please leave reviews in the feedback thread thanks
Yes, Tom is quite the arrogant little you-know-what.
Okay, I have chapter two back from my wonderful beta, so I'm going to bombard you with another chapter. (can you tell I've had a busy weekend
) But to give you a heads up, I have a pretty busy week ahead of me, so it'll be a short wait for any more installments. Here goes:
Chapter Two
Growing tired with the same conversations between his mother and her hoity-toity friends, Tom managed to excuse himself, saying he had a few matters to tend to before departing for school. Making his way to the Leaky Cauldron, he tapped the bricks that would reveal Diagon Alley.
Strolling along the cobbled street, Tom's first matter of business would be to stop by Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Once inside he found an available goblin who exchanged his muggle money for one hundred thirty-seven galleons, seventy-two sickles, and five knuts. His pockets heavy with gold, Tom made his way out of the congested doorway where he bumped shoulders with a tall, lanky, red haired man wearing clothes fitting for his gardner. "Do watch where you're going," said Tom. The red haired man simply said, "Sorry," but Tom distinctly heard him say "slimy git" under his breath. After a few moments, Tom ordered all his text books as well as potion refills, quills and a dozen rolls of parchment and paid to have them delivered directly to Hogwarts where they would be ready for Tom's first day. With a considerable amount of time to spare, Tom went to Madam Malkin's to purchase new robes. As Madam Malkin busied herself with Tom's measurements, he overheard some students he thought were second year Gryffindors or perhaps Ravenclaws. Tom rarely ever paid attention to anyone who was not a Slytherin.
"You've never been to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? You have to check out their belch bombs! It's so loud you can hear it all the way to Hogsmeade from your dormitory. And the stench sticks to you all day, and boy is it worse than a dungbomb!"
"Wicked!"
Honestly, Tom thought, belch bombs.
Finished at Madam Malkin's, Tom walked further down Diagon Alley, seeing a crowd of kids surrounding a display of the new belch bombs, also seeing two more red haired men in ridiculous magenta robes wearing a bubble head charm. Turning his head the other direction, Tom noticed a small alleyway called Knockturn Alley. Curious to see what lies ahead, Tom checked his wristwatch. Excellent, he thought; Tom had loads of time before he had to meet his mother. Gazing into the windows of various shops containing outlawed potions, shrunken heads and multiple amulets, Tom came across a shop which sparked his interest, Borgin and Burkes. The shopkeeper, an oily haired man by the name of Mr. Borgin stood behind a glass counter, looking through a monocle at a tiny ruby amulet. Hearing the door close, Mr. Borgin looked up at Tom in utter surprise, causing the amulet to fall out of his hands and disappear into thin air. "You!" he said. "But it can't be.... dead for fourteen years."
"I think you may have had too much drink, my man. The name's Tom. Durgan," said Tom. "You have an interesting place here."
"Yes I do. Only the finest materials of... questionable properties. You lookin' for something, boy?" asked Mr. Borgin.
"Nothing has caught my eye just yet," replied Tom, stepping closer to the glass counter, eying an old battered, rolled up piece of parchment. "What is that?"
"That would be of no use to you," said Mr. Borgin.
"I didn't ask you its use, I asked you what it is," interrupted Tom.
"It's a map; said to have been written by Salazar Slytherin himself. But I never..."
"How much?" asked Tom.
"Oh, it's not for sale," replied Mr. Borgin.
"How much?" repeated Tom, dropping a pile of gold onto the counter.
Taking a deep sigh, Mr. Borgin pocketed the gold and handed Tom the parchment, "Very well," is all he said.
Tom thanked Mr. Borgin, then turned to leave the shop in order to return to his mother.
*************
Stretched out on one of the comfortable seats within the prefect's compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express, Tom ignored the speeches given by the Head Boy and Girl, and attempted to take a nap.
"I should have known you'd become my Slytherin counterpart," said a pretty girl with curly blond hair and glowing olive skin by the name of Celia Burke. "Patrick was in absolute uproar wehn he didn't receive a badge. Always going on and on about how it was his legacy, seeing how his cousin Pansy was prefect and all. This should make for a fun year. I can't wait to dish out lines and detentions to those silly Gryffindors," chuckled Celia, gently shifting Tom's legs to make room for her to sit.
"I could care less about the other houses. And I have better things to do than to waste my time on handing out trivial punishments," replied Tom.
"Oh, is that so," said Celia, slightly taken aback at his remark. "Are you going to share with me your plans, or am I going to have put a tail on you?"
"Celia, for your benefit I'm going to ignore that last comment," barked Tom, placing his legs on top of Celia's lap. "Now please keep quitet; I would like to take a nap before we arrive at school."
"Yes, Master Durgan," Celia said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Would you like me to wake you when the lunch trolley appears?"
"Just keep quiet," smirked Tom, as he closed his eyes, thinking of the wondrous secrets the Slytherin map would reveal.
"Tom! Wake up! We'll be late for the feast if you don't get a move on!" screamed Celia Burke.
"Go reserve a carriage and I'll be along in a moment," said Tom, smoothing down his hair and quickly changing into his school robes.
Boarding the horseless carriage, Tom sat next to Celia, across form Patrick Parkinson, who had a sour look to his oval face. "My, my. Once again we're to be the last to arrive thanks to Mr. Durgan here," said Patrick.
"Hold your tongue," threatened Tom, who had little patience for such brazenness.
Taken aback by Tom's threat, Patrick did not dare utter a single word throughout the ride to the castle.
Inside the warm, torch lit enterance to the Great Hall, Tom strolled across the houses, taking his seat towards the head of the Slytherin table. Watching tiny Professor Flitwick place the wooden stool in the center of the Great Hall, Tom hoped the sorting would not take long, as the sorting ceremony grew dull over the years. Finally, thought Tom, as the last student took his seat at the Ravenclaw table. Professor McGonagall took to the podium to make her beginning announcements. "Welcome to Hogwarts, first years, and welcome back to our returning students. I would like to remind you all the Forbidden Forrest is out of bounds as well as the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year and without a signed permission form. Mr. Filch has aksed me to remind you that included in his list of banned items is belch bombs. A full list of the some nine-hundred items can be found attached to his office door."
At that moment, caretaker Filch let out a loud howl, startling everyone in the Great Hall. "Pull yourself together!" McGonagall firmly said.
"I'm s-s-sorry. Mrs. Norris d-d-died," sobbed Filch, face buried into his hands as he scampered out of the Great Hall.
"Well, what are we waiting for, let's eat," resigned Professor McGonagall as dishes of roast beef, mashed potatoes and many custards appeared upon the tables.
"So no more Mrs. Norris this year," said a Slytherin fourth year.
"And about time too," replied Patrick. "That cat's been here ages. Pity we still have Filch."
"I'm sure he won't be too much of a bother, seeing how he's grieving over that mangy feline," added Celia Burke.
Tom couldn't help but take delight in this new development. This year showed infinite promise.
Please leave reviews in the feedback thread thanks
Chapter Three
With a loud crack, Ron appeared in the back garden on top of a flower bed freshly planted by Molly Weasley just hours before.
“You're mum's going to have a fit when she sees you've ruined the spotted orchids,” smiled Harry, handing Ron a butterbeer.
“Thanks,” replied Ron, butterbeer dribbling down his chin after attempting to speak and swallow at the same time. “Bill will be here later, he had to go home and check on Fleur and Odette, and Dad's coming as soon as he's finished at the office,” Ron finished, wiping spittle off his chin.
“Yeah, I saw your dad at the Ministry earlier. Lupin will be here a bit later as well,” said Harry.
“Lupin's back?” asked Ron.
“He's leaving tonight. Tonks and Benjamin are going to stay in Rome a few more weeks though. I got an owl from Ginny today; she'll be home tomorrow morning,” said Harry, repairing the bent orchids with his wand.
“Good. The twins will be happy to have their mother home. Where are they by the way?” Ron said, looking around the yard as if to see where his niece and nephew could be hiding.
“They're inside with your mum. She's giving them their bath,” Harry replied.
“Oh. Right,” said Ron, finishing his butterbeer. “Did Ginny happen to say when Hermione would be home?”
“No. Sorry, mate. She's still busy with her S.P.E.W. Campaign,” Harry said, vanishing the empty butterbeer bottles.
“She's still in Bulgaria... with Krum,” Ron interrupted.
“What do you say we go ahead and get started with the muggle repelling charms,” Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder.
“Yeah, alright,” breathed Ron, taking out his wand and pointing it the the twenty feet tall hedges he helped Harry plant a few days ago.
With another loud crack, Mr. Weasley and Bill arrived standing next to Harry and Ron. “You look like you could use a few extra hands there,” winked Bill as he pointed his wand in the other direction, Mr. Weasley following in suit.
About half an hour later, Mr. Weasley put his wand into his pocket and said, “Well, that didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would. I'm pretty sure we got every square inch of the yard.”
“But I think we should probably make the hedges and trees another twenty feet taller, in case you decide to teach the twins to fly here,” added Bill.
“Not tonight you're not,” shouted Mrs. Weasley through the open window. “It's getting dark and dinner's going to get cold. Why don't you boys wash up and please be quiet; the twins are sleeping.”
“Yes, Molly dear,” Mr Weasley said, motioning to Ron, Harry and Bill to go inside Harry's newly rebuilt house in Godric’s Hollow that once belonged to his parents.
“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry as she handed him the pot of beef stew.
“So how are the twins?” asked Mr. Weasley, helping himself to a generous serving of stew.
“Well,” Harry began.
“I honestly don't know how you and Ginny manage,” Mrs. Weasley interrupted. “They get into as much mischief as possible. I don't even think Fred and George were that troublesome at four? You should have seen them today; picking up my wand when I wasn't looking; uprooting the flowers I was planting. And poor Crookshanks, little Lillian kept taunting him with a mouse she kept disappearing.”
“Well that doesn't surprise me at all,” laughed Lupin, walking into the kitchen. “I hope you don't mind, Harry, the door was open.”
“Not at all,” replied Harry. “I didn't even hear you arrive. How was Rome?”
“It was nice. Benjamin didn't care to learn of the city's magical history, but he can't seem to eat enough spaghetti,” chuckled Lupin. “Tonks and Benjamin will be home in about two weeks. Then it's back to business as usual.”
“Dawlish asked me this morning when Tonks would be returning to work,” remarked Harry.
“Yes, well she is anxious to go back to work, but Benjamin doesn't begin at Hogwarts until next year,” sighed Lupin.
“I reminded Dawlish of that this morning during our interdepartmental meeting,” added Mr. Weasley. “He seems to think that the auror department is understaffed at the moment.”
“Dawlish is just tired of twiddling his thumbs. It's not like we have dark wizards running amok,” added Harry.
The waistbands of everyone's trousers feeling uncomfortably tight after indulging in Molly Weasley's excellent stew, Bill stifled a yawn while saying farewell for the night.
“It's getting late for us too, Molly,” said Arthur Weasley.
“Yes you're right, Arthur. I'll just clean up a bit then we'll be on our way,” said Mrs. Weasley, pointing her wand at a sink full of dirty dishes so that they wash, dry and gently laid in the cupboards. “Harry, dear, I'll be back in the morning,” she said.
“Good night, Molly, Arthur,” Lupin added.
“Yeah, Goodnight, Mum and Dad,” said Ron.
“Goodnight. Oh, Ron, I want you to wash your socks tonight; there's dirt all over them,” replied Mrs. Weasley following her husband out the door.
“I think I ought to call it a night myself,” Lupin said, getting up from his chair. “I have a meeting with McGonagall in the morning.”
“What's going on at Hogwarts?” asked Harry.
“Not sure to tell you the truth. McGonagall just sent me an owl asking me to meet with her. I doubt there's cause for alarm,” Lupin added after watching Ron shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Good night boys,” added Lupin, before he too left Godric’s Hollow.
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With a loud crack, Ron appeared in the back garden on top of a flower bed freshly planted by Molly Weasley just hours before.
“You're mum's going to have a fit when she sees you've ruined the spotted orchids,” smiled Harry, handing Ron a butterbeer.
“Thanks,” replied Ron, butterbeer dribbling down his chin after attempting to speak and swallow at the same time. “Bill will be here later, he had to go home and check on Fleur and Odette, and Dad's coming as soon as he's finished at the office,” Ron finished, wiping spittle off his chin.
“Yeah, I saw your dad at the Ministry earlier. Lupin will be here a bit later as well,” said Harry.
“Lupin's back?” asked Ron.
“He's leaving tonight. Tonks and Benjamin are going to stay in Rome a few more weeks though. I got an owl from Ginny today; she'll be home tomorrow morning,” said Harry, repairing the bent orchids with his wand.
“Good. The twins will be happy to have their mother home. Where are they by the way?” Ron said, looking around the yard as if to see where his niece and nephew could be hiding.
“They're inside with your mum. She's giving them their bath,” Harry replied.
“Oh. Right,” said Ron, finishing his butterbeer. “Did Ginny happen to say when Hermione would be home?”
“No. Sorry, mate. She's still busy with her S.P.E.W. Campaign,” Harry said, vanishing the empty butterbeer bottles.
“She's still in Bulgaria... with Krum,” Ron interrupted.
“What do you say we go ahead and get started with the muggle repelling charms,” Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder.
“Yeah, alright,” breathed Ron, taking out his wand and pointing it the the twenty feet tall hedges he helped Harry plant a few days ago.
With another loud crack, Mr. Weasley and Bill arrived standing next to Harry and Ron. “You look like you could use a few extra hands there,” winked Bill as he pointed his wand in the other direction, Mr. Weasley following in suit.
About half an hour later, Mr. Weasley put his wand into his pocket and said, “Well, that didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would. I'm pretty sure we got every square inch of the yard.”
“But I think we should probably make the hedges and trees another twenty feet taller, in case you decide to teach the twins to fly here,” added Bill.
“Not tonight you're not,” shouted Mrs. Weasley through the open window. “It's getting dark and dinner's going to get cold. Why don't you boys wash up and please be quiet; the twins are sleeping.”
“Yes, Molly dear,” Mr Weasley said, motioning to Ron, Harry and Bill to go inside Harry's newly rebuilt house in Godric’s Hollow that once belonged to his parents.
“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry as she handed him the pot of beef stew.
“So how are the twins?” asked Mr. Weasley, helping himself to a generous serving of stew.
“Well,” Harry began.
“I honestly don't know how you and Ginny manage,” Mrs. Weasley interrupted. “They get into as much mischief as possible. I don't even think Fred and George were that troublesome at four? You should have seen them today; picking up my wand when I wasn't looking; uprooting the flowers I was planting. And poor Crookshanks, little Lillian kept taunting him with a mouse she kept disappearing.”
“Well that doesn't surprise me at all,” laughed Lupin, walking into the kitchen. “I hope you don't mind, Harry, the door was open.”
“Not at all,” replied Harry. “I didn't even hear you arrive. How was Rome?”
“It was nice. Benjamin didn't care to learn of the city's magical history, but he can't seem to eat enough spaghetti,” chuckled Lupin. “Tonks and Benjamin will be home in about two weeks. Then it's back to business as usual.”
“Dawlish asked me this morning when Tonks would be returning to work,” remarked Harry.
“Yes, well she is anxious to go back to work, but Benjamin doesn't begin at Hogwarts until next year,” sighed Lupin.
“I reminded Dawlish of that this morning during our interdepartmental meeting,” added Mr. Weasley. “He seems to think that the auror department is understaffed at the moment.”
“Dawlish is just tired of twiddling his thumbs. It's not like we have dark wizards running amok,” added Harry.
The waistbands of everyone's trousers feeling uncomfortably tight after indulging in Molly Weasley's excellent stew, Bill stifled a yawn while saying farewell for the night.
“It's getting late for us too, Molly,” said Arthur Weasley.
“Yes you're right, Arthur. I'll just clean up a bit then we'll be on our way,” said Mrs. Weasley, pointing her wand at a sink full of dirty dishes so that they wash, dry and gently laid in the cupboards. “Harry, dear, I'll be back in the morning,” she said.
“Good night, Molly, Arthur,” Lupin added.
“Yeah, Goodnight, Mum and Dad,” said Ron.
“Goodnight. Oh, Ron, I want you to wash your socks tonight; there's dirt all over them,” replied Mrs. Weasley following her husband out the door.
“I think I ought to call it a night myself,” Lupin said, getting up from his chair. “I have a meeting with McGonagall in the morning.”
“What's going on at Hogwarts?” asked Harry.
“Not sure to tell you the truth. McGonagall just sent me an owl asking me to meet with her. I doubt there's cause for alarm,” Lupin added after watching Ron shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Good night boys,” added Lupin, before he too left Godric’s Hollow.
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Hey guys! I know I said I'd have chapter four ready yesterday, but here it is now....
Chapter Four
During breakfast in the Great Hall, Professor Slughorn handed out class schedules across the Slytherin table.
"Double herbology with the Hufflepuffs," moaned Patrick Parkinson.
"Now, Parkinson, it's not all bad," smiled Marcus Flint, II. "Anyone care to wager some gold to see how long it takes the venomous tentacula to grab hold of Professor Roundbottom?"
"Put me in for a galleon on ten minutes," giggled Celia Burke, handing over a gold coin to Flint.
"A galleon for the pretty prefect," winked Flint, now holding out his money bag in front of Patrick Parkinson.
"All right. Two galleons on five minutes," said Parkinson.
"You can cough up more gold than that," added Flint. "How 'bout you, Durgan? Fancy a bet?"
"Ten galleons and by the time the entire class arrives, Roundbottom will be wrapped in vines. To make things interesting, I'll even bet that once he manages to free himself, he'll trip straight into the fanged geranium," smirked Tom Durgan, handing over the gold to Flint.
"I think Durgan's a bit full of himself," said Flint, swiping Patrick Parkinson's last piece of sausage.
"Am I now; well, you'll just have to see when you arrive to class," said Tom getting up from the table. "Now if you all will excuse me, I have a bet to win."
Tom Durgan entered the empty greenhouse and chose a table between the venomous tentacula and the fanged geranium. Taking out his text One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Tom turned to a random page that happened to discuss flitterblooms.
"Good morning, Mr. Durgan," Neville Longbottom said cheerfully as he entered the greenhouse. "You're here early. Class doesn't begin for a few minutes."
"Yes, well I hoped you could remind me of the difference between a flitterbloom and devil's snare, Professor," Tom said, glancing at his open book.
"Getting a head start on your O.W.L. preparations I see," smiled Neville, walking over to Tom and standing directly in front of the dark red, spiky plant. "As I'm sure you remember, Mr. Durgan, devil's snare does not like fire."
"Yes sir, but what about flitterblooms?" Tom asked to keep his herbology professor from leaving the spot he was standing.
"Flitterblooms have no aversion to fire. They only superficially resemble a devil's snare," replied Neville, not noticing the vines that were slowly wrapping around his legs. "You know, when I was in my first year, some friends of mine were most unfortunate enough to meet a devil's snare; but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that."
"No, Professor, please continue," smiled Tom. "What was it like when you were here at Hogwarts?"
"I'm afraid times were much different when I was a student. What with the war and the death eaters, and all," Neville sighed.
"Death eaters? The war I've heard of, but what are death eaters?" asked Tom.
"Death eaters were the supporters of a very dark and evil wizard. If you would like, a friend of mine wrote a book all about the war and the wizards involved. Come by my office later and I'll....Aghhh!" screamed Neville.
It happened in a split second. The venomous tentacula coiled its vines around Neville's body just as the entire class entered the greenhouse. A roar of laughter stemmed from the Slytherins as two Hufflepuff girls screamed in fear for their herbology professor. Finally managing to free himself from the plant, Neville Longbottom tripped over a remaining vine straight into the mouth of the fanged geranium. Blood dripping down his face and neck from the bite marks, Neville dismissed class to see Madam Pompfrey.
"It seems you owe me some gold, Flint," said Tom with a look of complete satisfaction on his face.
Still laughing, Flint handed Tom his money bag and followed everyone out of the greenhouse.
********
Lupin opened the gate and entered the school grounds. Dear old Hogwarts, he thought as he walked up toward the school doors. Inside the castle, Lupin was greeted by Professor McGonagall.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Remus," said Professor McGonagall.
"My pleasure," smiled Lupin.
"So tell me how Tonks and Benjamin are doing," McGonagall said, leading Lupin up the marble staircase, on their way to her office.
"They are still enjoying Rome at the moment, but both are doing very well," stated Remus Lupin.
"Excellent to hear. I don't think I've seen Benjamin in ages," replied McGonagall.
"Well, you'll see him quite a bit next year; he's looking forward to starting school," he said.
"Rook," said Professor McGonagall to the stone gargoyle as it leapt aside to reveal a moving staircase.
Up the stairs Lupin smiled as he saw the gold griffin knocker still on the door. Opening the door, McGonagall ushered Lupin inside.
"It's been a while since I've stood in this office," Lupin mumbled as he glanced out a window at the magnificent view of the mountains, then taking a few steps around the office.
"The lunascope is still here, as well as Dumbledore's pensive."
"Yes, well, I just couldn't bring myself to discard the lunascope, and Dumbledore requested his pensive be kept. His bottled memories are still stored inside the black cabinet," replied McGonagall as she took a seat at her desk. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to meet with you. Remus, you might want to sit down."
Lupin looked over at McGonagall's motioning hand and sat down in the chair in front of her.
"At the end of last year, it seems Dumbledore's tomb was disturbed," she gravely stated.
Shocked, Lupin nodded so McGonagall would continue.
"Hagrid found the tomb unsealed, opened and shifted ever so slightly."
"I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood you. Did you say somebody broke into Dumbledore's tomb?" interrupted Lupin.
"I'm afraid so," said Dumbledore's portrait.
"But Dumbledore... who would... it's not possible," remarked Lupin, clearly in shock by the news he was given.
"Who committed such a crime, we do not yet know. What is remarkable though, the seal incasing Dumbledore's tomb could only have been broken by a skilled witch or wizard," added McGonagall.
"What can I do?" asked Lupin.
"Remus, could you make Minerva another Marauder's Map?" asked Dumbledore.
"James and Sirius were the brains behind that project, but I can try," answered Lupin. "I'll need to reacquaint myself with the school, secret passages..."
"You have my permission to stay as long as you need, Remus," said McGonagall. "I just feel I need a closer eye on my students, as well as any visitors."
"I'll get started straight away," said Lupin, getting up from his seat, walking to the door.
"Oh, and one more thing, Remus," added Dumbledore. "Please do not let Harry know what has happened. Not until we have the facts and proper action can be taken."
Lupin nodded in agreement and left the office to begin his task of recreating the Marauder's Map.
Please leave your questions, comments, etc... here thank you.
Chapter Four
During breakfast in the Great Hall, Professor Slughorn handed out class schedules across the Slytherin table.
"Double herbology with the Hufflepuffs," moaned Patrick Parkinson.
"Now, Parkinson, it's not all bad," smiled Marcus Flint, II. "Anyone care to wager some gold to see how long it takes the venomous tentacula to grab hold of Professor Roundbottom?"
"Put me in for a galleon on ten minutes," giggled Celia Burke, handing over a gold coin to Flint.
"A galleon for the pretty prefect," winked Flint, now holding out his money bag in front of Patrick Parkinson.
"All right. Two galleons on five minutes," said Parkinson.
"You can cough up more gold than that," added Flint. "How 'bout you, Durgan? Fancy a bet?"
"Ten galleons and by the time the entire class arrives, Roundbottom will be wrapped in vines. To make things interesting, I'll even bet that once he manages to free himself, he'll trip straight into the fanged geranium," smirked Tom Durgan, handing over the gold to Flint.
"I think Durgan's a bit full of himself," said Flint, swiping Patrick Parkinson's last piece of sausage.
"Am I now; well, you'll just have to see when you arrive to class," said Tom getting up from the table. "Now if you all will excuse me, I have a bet to win."
Tom Durgan entered the empty greenhouse and chose a table between the venomous tentacula and the fanged geranium. Taking out his text One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Tom turned to a random page that happened to discuss flitterblooms.
"Good morning, Mr. Durgan," Neville Longbottom said cheerfully as he entered the greenhouse. "You're here early. Class doesn't begin for a few minutes."
"Yes, well I hoped you could remind me of the difference between a flitterbloom and devil's snare, Professor," Tom said, glancing at his open book.
"Getting a head start on your O.W.L. preparations I see," smiled Neville, walking over to Tom and standing directly in front of the dark red, spiky plant. "As I'm sure you remember, Mr. Durgan, devil's snare does not like fire."
"Yes sir, but what about flitterblooms?" Tom asked to keep his herbology professor from leaving the spot he was standing.
"Flitterblooms have no aversion to fire. They only superficially resemble a devil's snare," replied Neville, not noticing the vines that were slowly wrapping around his legs. "You know, when I was in my first year, some friends of mine were most unfortunate enough to meet a devil's snare; but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that."
"No, Professor, please continue," smiled Tom. "What was it like when you were here at Hogwarts?"
"I'm afraid times were much different when I was a student. What with the war and the death eaters, and all," Neville sighed.
"Death eaters? The war I've heard of, but what are death eaters?" asked Tom.
"Death eaters were the supporters of a very dark and evil wizard. If you would like, a friend of mine wrote a book all about the war and the wizards involved. Come by my office later and I'll....Aghhh!" screamed Neville.
It happened in a split second. The venomous tentacula coiled its vines around Neville's body just as the entire class entered the greenhouse. A roar of laughter stemmed from the Slytherins as two Hufflepuff girls screamed in fear for their herbology professor. Finally managing to free himself from the plant, Neville Longbottom tripped over a remaining vine straight into the mouth of the fanged geranium. Blood dripping down his face and neck from the bite marks, Neville dismissed class to see Madam Pompfrey.
"It seems you owe me some gold, Flint," said Tom with a look of complete satisfaction on his face.
Still laughing, Flint handed Tom his money bag and followed everyone out of the greenhouse.
********
Lupin opened the gate and entered the school grounds. Dear old Hogwarts, he thought as he walked up toward the school doors. Inside the castle, Lupin was greeted by Professor McGonagall.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Remus," said Professor McGonagall.
"My pleasure," smiled Lupin.
"So tell me how Tonks and Benjamin are doing," McGonagall said, leading Lupin up the marble staircase, on their way to her office.
"They are still enjoying Rome at the moment, but both are doing very well," stated Remus Lupin.
"Excellent to hear. I don't think I've seen Benjamin in ages," replied McGonagall.
"Well, you'll see him quite a bit next year; he's looking forward to starting school," he said.
"Rook," said Professor McGonagall to the stone gargoyle as it leapt aside to reveal a moving staircase.
Up the stairs Lupin smiled as he saw the gold griffin knocker still on the door. Opening the door, McGonagall ushered Lupin inside.
"It's been a while since I've stood in this office," Lupin mumbled as he glanced out a window at the magnificent view of the mountains, then taking a few steps around the office.
"The lunascope is still here, as well as Dumbledore's pensive."
"Yes, well, I just couldn't bring myself to discard the lunascope, and Dumbledore requested his pensive be kept. His bottled memories are still stored inside the black cabinet," replied McGonagall as she took a seat at her desk. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to meet with you. Remus, you might want to sit down."
Lupin looked over at McGonagall's motioning hand and sat down in the chair in front of her.
"At the end of last year, it seems Dumbledore's tomb was disturbed," she gravely stated.
Shocked, Lupin nodded so McGonagall would continue.
"Hagrid found the tomb unsealed, opened and shifted ever so slightly."
"I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood you. Did you say somebody broke into Dumbledore's tomb?" interrupted Lupin.
"I'm afraid so," said Dumbledore's portrait.
"But Dumbledore... who would... it's not possible," remarked Lupin, clearly in shock by the news he was given.
"Who committed such a crime, we do not yet know. What is remarkable though, the seal incasing Dumbledore's tomb could only have been broken by a skilled witch or wizard," added McGonagall.
"What can I do?" asked Lupin.
"Remus, could you make Minerva another Marauder's Map?" asked Dumbledore.
"James and Sirius were the brains behind that project, but I can try," answered Lupin. "I'll need to reacquaint myself with the school, secret passages..."
"You have my permission to stay as long as you need, Remus," said McGonagall. "I just feel I need a closer eye on my students, as well as any visitors."
"I'll get started straight away," said Lupin, getting up from his seat, walking to the door.
"Oh, and one more thing, Remus," added Dumbledore. "Please do not let Harry know what has happened. Not until we have the facts and proper action can be taken."
Lupin nodded in agreement and left the office to begin his task of recreating the Marauder's Map.
Please leave your questions, comments, etc... here thank you.
And now presenting Chapter Five....
"Good morning," called Mrs. Weasley entering the kitchen.
"Good morning," said Harry, buttering a few pieces of toast and placing them on the twin's plates. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Yes. I ate before I left the Burrow," replied Mrs. Weasley, taking a seat at the table next to Harry. "Ron's having a lie-in I expect."
"He was up pretty late last night," Harry said, pouring milk into his coffee cup. "I think he and Hermione had a row."
Still wearing his Chudley Cannon pajamas and a horrendous case of bed hair, Ron came down the stairs and yawned. "Morning," he said as he pulled out the chair his nephew placed a black spider on. "Aghh! A spider! A spider!"
"Sirius James Potter!" yelled Harry, trying to stop himself from laughing. "That wasn't very nice. And Ron, how many times are you going to fall for that?"
"Let me guess, they left spiders on Ron's chair again," said Ginny, who arrived home from her trip to Bulgaria. "Good morning everyone."
"Mummy!" yelled the twins, getting up from the table and running over to their mother, smothering her with hugs and kisses.
"I missed you too, my angels," said Ginny. "Guess what? If you two can tell me you've been extra good for your father and grandmother, then I have surprises for each of you."
"Ooh! I've been a very good girl, Mummy," smiled Lillian.
"No you haven't! I've been good," said Sirius James.
"Have too!" shouted Lillian.
"Have not!" yelled Sirius James.
"Enough!" shouted Harry over the twin's argument, getting up from his seat. "Is this the way we behave for your mother?"
"No. I'm sorry," the twins said together.
"Sit down and finish your breakfast if you want presents," said Harry, walking over to his wife, gently kissing her on the cheek. "I've missed you."
"I missed you too," said Ginny, brushing her hand on Harry's face. Noticing Mrs. Weasley at the table, Ginny quickly added, "Good morning, Mum. How are you and Dad doing?"
"We're both quite well, Ginny dear. Your father's busy at work, but he will be here for dinner tonight," Mrs. Weasley said.
"Good," Ginny replied, sitting down in Harry's seat as Harry fixed her a cup of coffee.
"Here you go," Harry said, handing her the hot mug. "You look tired. Did you not get enough rest?"
"Let's see. My dear brother here upset Hermione terribly so we were up until two in the morning," explained Ginny.
"I upset Hermione? How about she upset me!" Ron shouted, his face turning bright red.
"Honestly, Ron. Viktor Krum is only a friend. You don't see Harry getting this worked up if I run into Dean Thomas," Ginny remarked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"That's different," mumbled Ron, tearing his piece of toast into tiny pieces.
"How so?" asked Ginny.
"Because you're married."
"Here we go again," interrupted Ginny. "Give Hermione time, Ron. She loves you. She really does. Hermione just feels she has work to do before she marries."
"Hey, Ron, doesn't the new Firebolt come out today?" asked Harry in attempt to change the subject.
"Yeah. I'd better go get dressed for work. It should be a busy day," said Ron, getting up from the table and back upstairs to put on his uniform for Quality Quidditch Supplies.
"Speaking of that, Viktor is coaching the Bulgarian Quidditch team now," Ginny said. "He let Hermione and I watch a training session."
"Are they any good this year?" asked Harry, finishing his coffee and placing his mug in the sink.
"I'm afraid so," Ginny answered. "I don't think England has a chance against them this year."
"Well, I must be heading to the office," said Harry, giving the twins and Ginny a kiss before leaving. "I'll be home early today."
"Okay. Mum and I are going to take the twins to Diagon Alley today," replied Ginny. "Is there anything you need?"
"No. I'm good. Now Lillian, Sirius James, promise me you'll be good," said Harry.
"We will," Sirius James answered.
"Promise," added Lillian.
"Good," winked Harry as he stepped out the kitchen door and apparated to the Ministry of Magic.
**********
"You should have seen Roundbottom's face when he got up from the fanged geranium!" laughed Flint to a Slytherin fourth year in the courtyard before his Transfiguration class.
"I would have paid to see that!" said the fourth year.
The Slytherins greeted Tom Durgan with a round of applause as he entered the courtyard with Celia Burke. "Thank you," he smiled as he waved nonchalantly to his fellow Slytherins as the students from the other three houses looked upon him with ill expressions.
Some things will never change, thought Remus Lupin as he strolled along the courtyard taking notes.
"We better hurry if we're going to be on time for Professor Taft," said Patrick Parkinson. "I'm not in the mood for a scolding on the first day of class."
The Slytherin fifth years agreed, picking up their bags and entering the castle, still laughing and retelling the morning events.
"Good day, class," said Professor Taft, a middle aged wizard with grey hair and drooping eyes. "Please put your books away and your quills down." Standing up from his desk, Professor Taft walked among his students and continued his speech. "This is your fifth year people, your O.W.L. year. The results of the exams you will be taking this spring can very well affect every aspect of your future. Without passing the O.W.L.'s, there is no hope of obtaining certain careers. Any chance of continuing my class in N.E.W.T.'s is gone. Your families will be eternally ashamed of you should you fail, so my advice to you lot is to PAY ATTENTION! Now some of you think that old Professor Taft is a loon; it's only a test. Well, I may be a loon, but just a test... boys and girls this is only the most important test of your lives," he finished with a snarl.
"Sir, is it true we get career advice this year?" asked a Gryffindor girl.
"Yes, but your Head of House will explain that in detail for you," replied Professor Taft.
"Let's hope he gets out of the hospital in time," laughed Flint.
"That behavior, Mr. Flint, is uncalled for! Five points from Slytherin and open your mouth again and it will be 50," barked Professor Taft as Flint sank into his chair. "Ms. Abbott, take this box and hand everyone a mouse. Class, today we're going to practice switching spells. You know the incantation; you have exactly 40 minutes. Begin."
"Sheesh! You think this guy had a rough holiday?" whispered Flint to Tom, who was sitting next to him.
"Don't sweat it, Flint. We'll take care of this one," winked Tom, turning his attention back to his white mouse.
Several minutes later, Professor Taft announced the end of class and for homework, he asked the entire class to practice for exactly one hour as well as write a report on the common uses for a switching spell.
"The common uses for a switching spell!" complained Flint during dinner that night in the Great Hall. "I'll give you common uses; how about when you want to switch something with another thing."
Tom, unable to suppress his laughter, simply said, "Flint, you are an idiot!"
As the students and teachers finished their meal, Professor McGonagall stood up to make an announcement.
"Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp I would like to meet with the Head Boy and Girl as well as each prefect in the chamber to my right," she finished by pointing to the room on the side of the Great Hall.
"I wonder what that's all about," said Celia Burke.
"You'll find out tomorrow won't you," replied Patrick Parkinson, rolling his eyes in contempt.
Smiling, Tom suddenly remembered his Slythering map.
Once the sound of snores filled the dungeons, Tom got up from his bed and tip toed to the Slytherin common room. Sitting down on the leather sofa nearest the crackling fire, Tom took out the map and tapped it with his wand. "Specialis Revelio," he said. The centuries old parchment remained blank. "Aparecium," he said, tapping the parchment three times with his wand. Still nothing happened. After several minutes of trying various spells, and even attempting them in parsletongue, Tom, disappointed, gave up and went to bed.
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"Good morning," called Mrs. Weasley entering the kitchen.
"Good morning," said Harry, buttering a few pieces of toast and placing them on the twin's plates. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Yes. I ate before I left the Burrow," replied Mrs. Weasley, taking a seat at the table next to Harry. "Ron's having a lie-in I expect."
"He was up pretty late last night," Harry said, pouring milk into his coffee cup. "I think he and Hermione had a row."
Still wearing his Chudley Cannon pajamas and a horrendous case of bed hair, Ron came down the stairs and yawned. "Morning," he said as he pulled out the chair his nephew placed a black spider on. "Aghh! A spider! A spider!"
"Sirius James Potter!" yelled Harry, trying to stop himself from laughing. "That wasn't very nice. And Ron, how many times are you going to fall for that?"
"Let me guess, they left spiders on Ron's chair again," said Ginny, who arrived home from her trip to Bulgaria. "Good morning everyone."
"Mummy!" yelled the twins, getting up from the table and running over to their mother, smothering her with hugs and kisses.
"I missed you too, my angels," said Ginny. "Guess what? If you two can tell me you've been extra good for your father and grandmother, then I have surprises for each of you."
"Ooh! I've been a very good girl, Mummy," smiled Lillian.
"No you haven't! I've been good," said Sirius James.
"Have too!" shouted Lillian.
"Have not!" yelled Sirius James.
"Enough!" shouted Harry over the twin's argument, getting up from his seat. "Is this the way we behave for your mother?"
"No. I'm sorry," the twins said together.
"Sit down and finish your breakfast if you want presents," said Harry, walking over to his wife, gently kissing her on the cheek. "I've missed you."
"I missed you too," said Ginny, brushing her hand on Harry's face. Noticing Mrs. Weasley at the table, Ginny quickly added, "Good morning, Mum. How are you and Dad doing?"
"We're both quite well, Ginny dear. Your father's busy at work, but he will be here for dinner tonight," Mrs. Weasley said.
"Good," Ginny replied, sitting down in Harry's seat as Harry fixed her a cup of coffee.
"Here you go," Harry said, handing her the hot mug. "You look tired. Did you not get enough rest?"
"Let's see. My dear brother here upset Hermione terribly so we were up until two in the morning," explained Ginny.
"I upset Hermione? How about she upset me!" Ron shouted, his face turning bright red.
"Honestly, Ron. Viktor Krum is only a friend. You don't see Harry getting this worked up if I run into Dean Thomas," Ginny remarked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"That's different," mumbled Ron, tearing his piece of toast into tiny pieces.
"How so?" asked Ginny.
"Because you're married."
"Here we go again," interrupted Ginny. "Give Hermione time, Ron. She loves you. She really does. Hermione just feels she has work to do before she marries."
"Hey, Ron, doesn't the new Firebolt come out today?" asked Harry in attempt to change the subject.
"Yeah. I'd better go get dressed for work. It should be a busy day," said Ron, getting up from the table and back upstairs to put on his uniform for Quality Quidditch Supplies.
"Speaking of that, Viktor is coaching the Bulgarian Quidditch team now," Ginny said. "He let Hermione and I watch a training session."
"Are they any good this year?" asked Harry, finishing his coffee and placing his mug in the sink.
"I'm afraid so," Ginny answered. "I don't think England has a chance against them this year."
"Well, I must be heading to the office," said Harry, giving the twins and Ginny a kiss before leaving. "I'll be home early today."
"Okay. Mum and I are going to take the twins to Diagon Alley today," replied Ginny. "Is there anything you need?"
"No. I'm good. Now Lillian, Sirius James, promise me you'll be good," said Harry.
"We will," Sirius James answered.
"Promise," added Lillian.
"Good," winked Harry as he stepped out the kitchen door and apparated to the Ministry of Magic.
**********
"You should have seen Roundbottom's face when he got up from the fanged geranium!" laughed Flint to a Slytherin fourth year in the courtyard before his Transfiguration class.
"I would have paid to see that!" said the fourth year.
The Slytherins greeted Tom Durgan with a round of applause as he entered the courtyard with Celia Burke. "Thank you," he smiled as he waved nonchalantly to his fellow Slytherins as the students from the other three houses looked upon him with ill expressions.
Some things will never change, thought Remus Lupin as he strolled along the courtyard taking notes.
"We better hurry if we're going to be on time for Professor Taft," said Patrick Parkinson. "I'm not in the mood for a scolding on the first day of class."
The Slytherin fifth years agreed, picking up their bags and entering the castle, still laughing and retelling the morning events.
"Good day, class," said Professor Taft, a middle aged wizard with grey hair and drooping eyes. "Please put your books away and your quills down." Standing up from his desk, Professor Taft walked among his students and continued his speech. "This is your fifth year people, your O.W.L. year. The results of the exams you will be taking this spring can very well affect every aspect of your future. Without passing the O.W.L.'s, there is no hope of obtaining certain careers. Any chance of continuing my class in N.E.W.T.'s is gone. Your families will be eternally ashamed of you should you fail, so my advice to you lot is to PAY ATTENTION! Now some of you think that old Professor Taft is a loon; it's only a test. Well, I may be a loon, but just a test... boys and girls this is only the most important test of your lives," he finished with a snarl.
"Sir, is it true we get career advice this year?" asked a Gryffindor girl.
"Yes, but your Head of House will explain that in detail for you," replied Professor Taft.
"Let's hope he gets out of the hospital in time," laughed Flint.
"That behavior, Mr. Flint, is uncalled for! Five points from Slytherin and open your mouth again and it will be 50," barked Professor Taft as Flint sank into his chair. "Ms. Abbott, take this box and hand everyone a mouse. Class, today we're going to practice switching spells. You know the incantation; you have exactly 40 minutes. Begin."
"Sheesh! You think this guy had a rough holiday?" whispered Flint to Tom, who was sitting next to him.
"Don't sweat it, Flint. We'll take care of this one," winked Tom, turning his attention back to his white mouse.
Several minutes later, Professor Taft announced the end of class and for homework, he asked the entire class to practice for exactly one hour as well as write a report on the common uses for a switching spell.
"The common uses for a switching spell!" complained Flint during dinner that night in the Great Hall. "I'll give you common uses; how about when you want to switch something with another thing."
Tom, unable to suppress his laughter, simply said, "Flint, you are an idiot!"
As the students and teachers finished their meal, Professor McGonagall stood up to make an announcement.
"Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp I would like to meet with the Head Boy and Girl as well as each prefect in the chamber to my right," she finished by pointing to the room on the side of the Great Hall.
"I wonder what that's all about," said Celia Burke.
"You'll find out tomorrow won't you," replied Patrick Parkinson, rolling his eyes in contempt.
Smiling, Tom suddenly remembered his Slythering map.
Once the sound of snores filled the dungeons, Tom got up from his bed and tip toed to the Slytherin common room. Sitting down on the leather sofa nearest the crackling fire, Tom took out the map and tapped it with his wand. "Specialis Revelio," he said. The centuries old parchment remained blank. "Aparecium," he said, tapping the parchment three times with his wand. Still nothing happened. After several minutes of trying various spells, and even attempting them in parsletongue, Tom, disappointed, gave up and went to bed.
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And without further ado, chapter six.....
"Good morning," said Professor McGonagall as she entered the antechamber off the Great Hall, closing the door. "Let's get down to business, shall we? In addition to your duties around the castle, I would like to include an evening sweep of the school grounds. You are to do this in pairs and a schedule will be posted on the boards in your common rooms. I would like to make clear the Forbidden Forest remains off limits. During your rounds, should you witness anything unusual, report it immediately to me, you Head of House, or, if time is of the essence, then seek Hagrid. Any questions?"
"Why are we patrolling the grounds, ma'am?" asked a Ravenclaw prefect.
"To insue the safety of the students and the school," replied Professor McGonagall.
"Professor, are you saying the school is unsafe?" asked a Gryffindor prefect.
"No, Mr. Gibbons. I can assure you the school is safe; I just want added security," answered McGonagall. "Are there any more questions?"
A moment of silence filled the room as everyone looked at one another with curious expressions.
"Good. Well, you all better get to class," said Professor McGonagall, opening the door to the Great Hall.
"I wonder what that was all about," said Celia Burke walking aside Tom on their way to Charms.
"I'm not sure," replied Tom. "Why? Are you concerned?"
"Well, McGonagall said the school is safe, but it's not like it's never been invaded before," she said.
"What do you mean?" asked Tom.
"You're joking, right," laughed Celia. "You better stop, Tom, or others might think you're a mudblood."
Grabbing Celia's arm, he whispered, "Don't you dare utter those words before me again, Celia, or they may very well be your last."
Alarmed by Tom's reaction, Celia nodded her head and followed him into the Charms classroom on the seventh floor.
After nearly an hour of listening to Professor Flitwick go on about the importance of their O.W.L.'s and reviewing spells learned in previous years, Tom decided to go to the library and find the book Professor Longbottom began to mention before his most unfortunate accident in the greenhouse. Searching through rows and shelves of books, Tom discovered a book titled, The Rise and Fall of the Self-Proclaimed Dark Lord written by H. Granger. This is the same bloke who wrote all that rubbish on house elves, Tom thought as he brought the book to a table and sat down to read.
"Tom! Here you are," said Patrick Parkinson, walking over to the table Tom was sitting. "You're going to be late for Potions if you don't get a move on."
"Go ahead and tell Slughorn I'll be there in a moment," Tom replied, looking up from his book at Patrick. "I want to see if I can check this book out. Did you know a girl wrote this book?"
"So," answered Patrick, waiting for Tom.
"I just think it's interesting, that's all," said Tom evasively, as the two left the library and made their way down to the dungeons.
"Are you going to tell me what happened to make Celia so upset in Charms?" asked Patrick.
"Celia was upset?" asked Tom, almost bored. "I didn't realize."
"Don't give me that rubbish! I know it was you that upset her," finished Patrick.
"I have no idea what your are talking about, Parkinson," Tom said clearly. "I know you fancy her, but I think it's in your best interest to stay out of other's personal affairs."
"So you admit to having a row," stated Patrick Parkinson, glaring at Tom as if to intimidate him.
"I have admitted nothing. After you," Tom said, motioning to Patrick into their Potions class.
"Oh good. Now that the entire class is here, let's do something fun today," said Professor Slughorn. "A Babbling Beverage sounds like good fun." Professor Slughorn tapped the chalkboard with his wand and the instructions for the potion appeared. "Let us begin."
"We're not finished discussing what you said to Celia, Durgan," said Patrick over his cauldron.
"Parkinson, drop it!"
"You think I'm afraid of you?" interrupted Patrick. "You can't even answer a simple question."
Outraged, Tom Durgan fought to keep his composure. Taking a breath and glancing over to Celia's cauldron and then straight into Patrick's eyes, he said, "You're right. We had a disagreement. That is all. If you allow her to calm down, I am sure Celia will give you the details herself," Tom finished with a look of finality.
Swallowing hard, Patrick bent down to lower the flames under his cauldron and returned his attention to his boiling potion.
Towards the end of class, Professor Slughorn walked among the many cauldrons, inspecting everyone's potion. "Excellent, Mr. Durgan," cheered Slughorn upon reviewing Tom's Babbling Beverage. " And Mr. Parkinson, better luck next time. Now class, for homework, I would like you to write an essay on the common mistakes made when brewing a Babbling Beverage and how to correct them. Oh and Mr. Durgan, you are excused from the assignment."
"Perfect prefect Durgan strikes again. Could you do the rest of us a favor, get something wrong from time to time," said Flint, walking up the corridor to the Slytherin common room.
"Come now, Flint. It's not my fault you're not as intelligent as I am; perhaps your mother dropped you as an infant," laughed Tom, putting his bag on the sofa and sitting down next to it.
"Funny. Really witty," replied a smug Flint. "Celia, can you believe this bloke?"
"Out of my way," yelled Celia, pushing Flint out of her way while moving towards the girls dormitory.
"What's got into her?" asked Flint, taken aback and plopping on the sofa.
"No idea," replied Tom. "When does Quidditch start?"
"Trials are in two weeks. It should be a piece of cake; I'm the only decent chaser in this house," smriked Flint, looking at the notice boards. "It looks like you and Celia have ground patrol next week. Should be nice; just you and Celia, alone, strolling along the edge of the lake in the moonlight." Flint winked and smiled most deviously at Tom.
"Yes I suppose. That is if she ever rids herself of this foul mood," remarked Tom, taking out his library book from his bag.
"What is that?" asked Flint, noticing the book in Tom's hand. "Don't tell me we've got extra work already."
"No. I'm just reading a book," replied Tom, almost bored.
"Oh. I see. It's a book about him and the war," said Flint, tilting his head to read the title. "You know Parkinson's cousin will be at Hogsmeade on Halloween. She lived through the war; we should meet up with her. That is if you want a more accurate account of what happened."
"I suppose," said Tom, half hearing what Flint said as he submersed himself in reading all about him, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord.
**********
The next few weeks passed without incident. Celia Burke no longer remembered ever being angry with Tom Durgan and enjoyed his company during their evening patrols of the school grounds.
"I asked Professor Slughorn to switch our patrol schedules this week to avoid all this rain," Tom told Celia during lunch in the Great Hall.
"Good," she replied, helping herself to warm chicken soup. "I would have suggested it, but you are his favorite. When's his next party?"
"He told me this morning that he is sending invitations out this evening. The party will be on Friday," answered Tom. "The girl who wrote all those books about Hogwarts and the war will be there."
"Oh. And why are you so interested in this girl?" asked Celia grumpily, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, if you read her book The Rise and Fall of the Self-Proclaimed Dark Lord, you would know that she had a hand in his defeat," replied Tom, taking a drink of pumpkin juice.
"You mean to tell me you would actually consort with her. She's a mudblood," said Celia, all of a sudden choking on her chicken soup.
"Tom, why are you so interested in the war?" asked Parkinson.
"I'm not. I'm just curious how a seventeen year old boy was able to defeat the most powerful wizard in the world," Tom said, taking a bite of his buttered roll and patting Celia on the back, allowing her to breath once more.
Celia and Patrick exchanged incredulous looks and finished their lunch.
***********
"Rook," said Remus Lupin to the stone gargoyle as it leapt aside and allowed him on the moving staircase. Once upstairs, before Lupin was able to knock on the door, Professor McGonagall opened the door and allowed him into her office.
"Here you go," said Lupin. "I've finished the Marauder's Map and this one even includes the entire village of Hogsmeade and the Room of Requirement."
"Excellent," replied McGonagall, taking the finished map and inspecting it. "I cannot thank you enough for doing this. How does it work?"
Smiling, Lupin explained that it works in the same fashion as the original. "You must say, 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good,' and then to erase it you say, 'mischief managed.'"
Frowning, Professor McGonagall thanked Lupin again and sat at her desk with the open map.
"Let me know if I can be of further assistance," said Lupin before leaving the headmistress' office.
Professor McGonagall nodded and mumbled, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
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"Good morning," said Professor McGonagall as she entered the antechamber off the Great Hall, closing the door. "Let's get down to business, shall we? In addition to your duties around the castle, I would like to include an evening sweep of the school grounds. You are to do this in pairs and a schedule will be posted on the boards in your common rooms. I would like to make clear the Forbidden Forest remains off limits. During your rounds, should you witness anything unusual, report it immediately to me, you Head of House, or, if time is of the essence, then seek Hagrid. Any questions?"
"Why are we patrolling the grounds, ma'am?" asked a Ravenclaw prefect.
"To insue the safety of the students and the school," replied Professor McGonagall.
"Professor, are you saying the school is unsafe?" asked a Gryffindor prefect.
"No, Mr. Gibbons. I can assure you the school is safe; I just want added security," answered McGonagall. "Are there any more questions?"
A moment of silence filled the room as everyone looked at one another with curious expressions.
"Good. Well, you all better get to class," said Professor McGonagall, opening the door to the Great Hall.
"I wonder what that was all about," said Celia Burke walking aside Tom on their way to Charms.
"I'm not sure," replied Tom. "Why? Are you concerned?"
"Well, McGonagall said the school is safe, but it's not like it's never been invaded before," she said.
"What do you mean?" asked Tom.
"You're joking, right," laughed Celia. "You better stop, Tom, or others might think you're a mudblood."
Grabbing Celia's arm, he whispered, "Don't you dare utter those words before me again, Celia, or they may very well be your last."
Alarmed by Tom's reaction, Celia nodded her head and followed him into the Charms classroom on the seventh floor.
After nearly an hour of listening to Professor Flitwick go on about the importance of their O.W.L.'s and reviewing spells learned in previous years, Tom decided to go to the library and find the book Professor Longbottom began to mention before his most unfortunate accident in the greenhouse. Searching through rows and shelves of books, Tom discovered a book titled, The Rise and Fall of the Self-Proclaimed Dark Lord written by H. Granger. This is the same bloke who wrote all that rubbish on house elves, Tom thought as he brought the book to a table and sat down to read.
"Tom! Here you are," said Patrick Parkinson, walking over to the table Tom was sitting. "You're going to be late for Potions if you don't get a move on."
"Go ahead and tell Slughorn I'll be there in a moment," Tom replied, looking up from his book at Patrick. "I want to see if I can check this book out. Did you know a girl wrote this book?"
"So," answered Patrick, waiting for Tom.
"I just think it's interesting, that's all," said Tom evasively, as the two left the library and made their way down to the dungeons.
"Are you going to tell me what happened to make Celia so upset in Charms?" asked Patrick.
"Celia was upset?" asked Tom, almost bored. "I didn't realize."
"Don't give me that rubbish! I know it was you that upset her," finished Patrick.
"I have no idea what your are talking about, Parkinson," Tom said clearly. "I know you fancy her, but I think it's in your best interest to stay out of other's personal affairs."
"So you admit to having a row," stated Patrick Parkinson, glaring at Tom as if to intimidate him.
"I have admitted nothing. After you," Tom said, motioning to Patrick into their Potions class.
"Oh good. Now that the entire class is here, let's do something fun today," said Professor Slughorn. "A Babbling Beverage sounds like good fun." Professor Slughorn tapped the chalkboard with his wand and the instructions for the potion appeared. "Let us begin."
"We're not finished discussing what you said to Celia, Durgan," said Patrick over his cauldron.
"Parkinson, drop it!"
"You think I'm afraid of you?" interrupted Patrick. "You can't even answer a simple question."
Outraged, Tom Durgan fought to keep his composure. Taking a breath and glancing over to Celia's cauldron and then straight into Patrick's eyes, he said, "You're right. We had a disagreement. That is all. If you allow her to calm down, I am sure Celia will give you the details herself," Tom finished with a look of finality.
Swallowing hard, Patrick bent down to lower the flames under his cauldron and returned his attention to his boiling potion.
Towards the end of class, Professor Slughorn walked among the many cauldrons, inspecting everyone's potion. "Excellent, Mr. Durgan," cheered Slughorn upon reviewing Tom's Babbling Beverage. " And Mr. Parkinson, better luck next time. Now class, for homework, I would like you to write an essay on the common mistakes made when brewing a Babbling Beverage and how to correct them. Oh and Mr. Durgan, you are excused from the assignment."
"Perfect prefect Durgan strikes again. Could you do the rest of us a favor, get something wrong from time to time," said Flint, walking up the corridor to the Slytherin common room.
"Come now, Flint. It's not my fault you're not as intelligent as I am; perhaps your mother dropped you as an infant," laughed Tom, putting his bag on the sofa and sitting down next to it.
"Funny. Really witty," replied a smug Flint. "Celia, can you believe this bloke?"
"Out of my way," yelled Celia, pushing Flint out of her way while moving towards the girls dormitory.
"What's got into her?" asked Flint, taken aback and plopping on the sofa.
"No idea," replied Tom. "When does Quidditch start?"
"Trials are in two weeks. It should be a piece of cake; I'm the only decent chaser in this house," smriked Flint, looking at the notice boards. "It looks like you and Celia have ground patrol next week. Should be nice; just you and Celia, alone, strolling along the edge of the lake in the moonlight." Flint winked and smiled most deviously at Tom.
"Yes I suppose. That is if she ever rids herself of this foul mood," remarked Tom, taking out his library book from his bag.
"What is that?" asked Flint, noticing the book in Tom's hand. "Don't tell me we've got extra work already."
"No. I'm just reading a book," replied Tom, almost bored.
"Oh. I see. It's a book about him and the war," said Flint, tilting his head to read the title. "You know Parkinson's cousin will be at Hogsmeade on Halloween. She lived through the war; we should meet up with her. That is if you want a more accurate account of what happened."
"I suppose," said Tom, half hearing what Flint said as he submersed himself in reading all about him, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord.
**********
The next few weeks passed without incident. Celia Burke no longer remembered ever being angry with Tom Durgan and enjoyed his company during their evening patrols of the school grounds.
"I asked Professor Slughorn to switch our patrol schedules this week to avoid all this rain," Tom told Celia during lunch in the Great Hall.
"Good," she replied, helping herself to warm chicken soup. "I would have suggested it, but you are his favorite. When's his next party?"
"He told me this morning that he is sending invitations out this evening. The party will be on Friday," answered Tom. "The girl who wrote all those books about Hogwarts and the war will be there."
"Oh. And why are you so interested in this girl?" asked Celia grumpily, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, if you read her book The Rise and Fall of the Self-Proclaimed Dark Lord, you would know that she had a hand in his defeat," replied Tom, taking a drink of pumpkin juice.
"You mean to tell me you would actually consort with her. She's a mudblood," said Celia, all of a sudden choking on her chicken soup.
"Tom, why are you so interested in the war?" asked Parkinson.
"I'm not. I'm just curious how a seventeen year old boy was able to defeat the most powerful wizard in the world," Tom said, taking a bite of his buttered roll and patting Celia on the back, allowing her to breath once more.
Celia and Patrick exchanged incredulous looks and finished their lunch.
***********
"Rook," said Remus Lupin to the stone gargoyle as it leapt aside and allowed him on the moving staircase. Once upstairs, before Lupin was able to knock on the door, Professor McGonagall opened the door and allowed him into her office.
"Here you go," said Lupin. "I've finished the Marauder's Map and this one even includes the entire village of Hogsmeade and the Room of Requirement."
"Excellent," replied McGonagall, taking the finished map and inspecting it. "I cannot thank you enough for doing this. How does it work?"
Smiling, Lupin explained that it works in the same fashion as the original. "You must say, 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good,' and then to erase it you say, 'mischief managed.'"
Frowning, Professor McGonagall thanked Lupin again and sat at her desk with the open map.
"Let me know if I can be of further assistance," said Lupin before leaving the headmistress' office.
Professor McGonagall nodded and mumbled, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
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Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up; I haven't been feeling all that well... but anyhoo... here goes chapter 7
"Celia, are you ready yet?" called Tom from the entrance to the girl’s dormitory. Checking his watch he realized they were more than fashionably late. Tom never arrived to social gatherings on time; his mother always said to arrive when they would least expect it. Two hours, however, was a bit ridiculous.
"Girls", Tom thought rolling his eyes, wondering what exactly could be keeping Celia.
"Two minutes, I swear." Reaching under her bed for her shoes and rushing to put on her opal earrings, Celia walked into the common room and said, "Ready."
It's about time, thought Tom, but instead he told her most insincerely that she looked lovely.
"Thank you. I should since Cormac McLaggen will be here tonight in addition to your bookworm. You know he's keeping for the Tornados now. With a little luck he may even play for Ireland's national team." As they said their good byes to Parkinson and Flint, each of whom was uninvited, Celia continued to gab about McLaggen. "I wonder what house he belonged to when he attended school. I took a peek in the trophy room but there was nothing mentioned of him being on any team. You would think with his talents, he would have been Quidditch captain. There was loads of stuff with Harry Potter though."
"Show me."
"What? Now, Tom?"
Tom nodded and turned to walk up the stairs to the third floor to the trophy room. Celia, a bit surprised by his sudden interest, took a deep sigh and followed suit. "Right this way, Mr. Durgan."
Inside the trophy room, Tom looked upon several cups, trophies, medals, and plaques, as Celia led him to the school's Quidditch shields that named all the past and present team members. "This Potter kid became seeker for Gryffindor his first year, then captain in his sixth. And look, Flint's father was Slytherin captain while he was here."
"Tom, this is all very nice, but can we please go to the party now? I'm sure Peeves will be here soon, and I don't want my hair ruined."
"In one minute. What do you have to do to receive an award for services to the school? That Potter kid got one too, along with Tom Riddle." Tom gave an involuntary shudder as he laid eyes on the name Tom. Poor kid, he thought. I'm sure you were no ordinary chap yourself. Then it hit him. "I've heard this name before. Or I read it somewhere but where?"
"Tom, let's go," said Celia, pulling Tom out of the Trophy room and back down the stairs to Slughorn's classroom.
"Tom, my boy! Glad you could make it!" cheered Professor Slughorn, patting Tom on the back as he and Celia entered the room. “And, Ms. Burke, always a pleasure.”
"I wouldn't miss one of your parties for anything, Professor."
"Tom, I would like to introduce you to somebody. McLaggen," Slughorn called as a tall, blonde haired man walked over to them. "Tom, this is Cormac McLaggen. The Tornados just recruited him this year to play keeper. McLaggen, this is Tom Durgan, one of my finest."
"Good to meet you," smiled Tom, holding out his hand for the wizard to shake.
"Likewise," Taking notice of Celia standing next to Tom, he took her hand and gently kissed it. "Cormac McLaggen. And you are?"
"Celia Burke," she blushed. "Mr. McLaggen, it's wonderful actually to meet you. I've been a fan of yours since you played on the reserve team for the Montrose Magpies."
"Why thank you for your support. I don't think I would have lasted this long without my adoring fans. If you would like, we could go get a drink and I can tell you all about my trials during Quidditch."
"I would just...yes," Celia turning slightly pink in the cheeks, forgot Tom and followed McLaggen to the refreshment table, giggling all the way.
"That's McLaggen for you. Always willing to spend an evening with his fans," smiled Slughorn
"Yes. Professor. Has that author you told me about here?"
"Ms. Granger? She is around here somewhere," replied Professor Slughorn, looking across the room in search of Hermione. "Ah, yes. There she is. Over in the far corner." Pointing towards Hermione, Tom thanked Slughorn and graciously excused himself from his professor's company.
Hermione Granger stood in the far corner of the room speaking with Greg Gibbons of Gryffindor and Alexis Alexander of Ravenclaw. "You really are friends with the Harry Potter?" asked Alexis Alexander in awe. "Do you think you can get his autograph for me?"
"Excuse me, Ms. Granger. I don't mean to intrude on your conversation, but I just had to come to meet you," smiled Tom, stepping in front of Greg and Alexis. "I must say, I've read both your books and the work you are doing with S.P.E.W. is most honourable."
"Thank you very much, er..."
"Tom. Tom Durgan." Tom frowned slightly as he held out his hand for Hermione to shake.
"It's nice to meet you, Tom. So tell me, Tom, how do find the house elves here at Hogwarts?"
"Well, I think that once they become used to receiving compensation for their work, they will be a bit happier. Now if only we could get them to accept proper garments."
"Yes, that is the tricky part. Many that we’ve spoken with absolutely refuse new clothes."
"Perhaps one day soon house elves will desire freedom. If you don't mind, I would like to make a contribution to your cause." Tom said most convincingly, taking out a money bag and presenting it to Hermione. "It's a humble donation. Only about 20 galleons or so."
Hermione, blushed, simply dumbstruck by this boy that she said, "I don't know what to say, Tom. Thank you very much!"
"It was nothing. I just wish it could be more. What do you say I get us drinks?"
"That would be fine."
Turning around and walking to the refreshment table, Tom took the last two bottles of butterbeer from Greg Gibbons and returned to the corner where Hermione was standing.
Handing Hermione her drink, Tom raised his bottle and said, "To house elves and their freedom."
"Yes, to house elves." Hermione repeated, raising her bottle in toast. "I have to say I am actually very surprised by you. Most people who I speak with only want to discuss Harry Potter, the war and Voldemort's defeat. I was just in Bulgaria to promote S.P.E.W. and not a single person seemed interested."
"What exactly does Harry Potter and Voldemort have to do with house elves?" smiled Tom. "I gather you knew Harry Potter pretty well."
"He's still my best friend. Along with Ginny, his wife, and of course...Ron," Hermione added, looking sadly into her butterbeer.
"I'm sorry if I've upset you."
"No. You have not done a thing to upset me," Hermione assured Tom, taking a sip of her drink. "But yes, we all still keep in touch. It's miraculous too, considering everything we've been through. I mean the fact that we're still alive."
"Miraculous indeed," replied Tom, putting his empty butterbeer bottle down on a nearby table. "I think we need another drink. Would you please excuse me?"
At the refreshment table, Tom glanced at Celia who was submersed in a one sided conversation with that McLaggen bloke. Looking over his limited beverage options, Tom chose a decanter filled with red liquid and brought it back to Hermione. Reading her curious expression, he told her, "There is no more butterbeer."
"Oh. All right then." Hermione said, as she took out her wand about to conjure glasses but Tom interrupted her. "Allow me," he said, as he took out his own wand and produced two silver goblets out of thin air.
"Impressive," Hermione smiled as she poured each of them prudent amounts of drink.
"Thank you. I've taken an interest in learning more advanced magic for my year." Tom muttered a spell under his breath and a soft, antique sofa appeared against the wall. "Would you care to sit down?"
"My parents have a sofa just like this in their lounge. How did you..."
"It was nothing," interrupted Tom, waving his hand as he took a seat on the couch. So you were saying about your friends?"
"Yes. Well, Harry works at the Ministry of Magic in the Auror department. Ginny was offered a healer in training position at St. Mungo’s, but had to refuse because she was expecting the twins. She's often thought of working here in the hospital when the twins attend school. And Ron took over Quality Quidditch Supplies when the former owner turned up missing. They never did find his body. But Ron donates brooms to Hogwarts each year. Isn't that wonderful?"
"That's terrific. I've always wondered how the Quidditch teams manage to keep up with the new broom models each season." Tom smiled, withholding a laugh as he remembered hearing several Slytherin team-mates complain about the school brooms. "It sounds like Ron is a good man."
"Yes. Ron can be a wonderful man when he's not pretending to be one," Hermione finished glumly, pouring herself another generous amount of drink.
"Tell me about Harry."
"Harry's doing very well. I think he's finally found peace. You know, he just recently finished rebuilding his parent’s old house. It's really good for him too; it provides him with both a sense of closure and nearness to his parents. We've lost so many dear friends, and I know he still blames himself for Luna's death. Voldemort killed her personally after.... Harry's doing really well."
"I read about your friend Harry Potter in your book as well as The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. I could not believe he was only a baby the first time he defeated the Dark Lord and then 17 the last time. How did he do it?"
"It was not easy. The three of us, that is Harry, Ron, and I, had to manage to destroy his soul before Harry was able to attack his body. Death Eaters were all over the place; we were dodging curses everywhere. Nott, one of the Death Eaters, hit Ron with such a horrendous curse, we almost lost him. If it wasn't for Snape, I'm sure we would have," explained Hermione as she sat on the end of the sofa, glancing around the room.
"Snape, he was mentioned in your book. He murdered the former headmaster."
Hermione nodded and said," Yes. Apparently Snape and Professor Dumbledore had some sort of understanding. Harry absolutely loathed him. I can only imagine what it took Harry to ask Snape for help."
Hermione hiccuped and continued, "It was always one battle after another."
"Could you explain to me how you destroyed Voldemort's soul before his body?" Tom asked, twirling his wand, hoping for better information from Hermione.
"I'm not an expert. My information was always very limited when it came to that kind of magic." Seeing the bewildered expression on Tom's face, Hermione explained, "It's extremely dark magic and it's a banned subject here at Hogwarts. Well, Tom, if you will excuse me, I am going to say goodbye to Professor Slughorn and go home. Thank you again for your support with S.P.E.W." Hermione yawned and vanished her goblet as she stood up from the sofa and walked away.
Without any response, Tom continued to twirl his wand as he watched Hermione Granger leave.
*******
Later that night in his mahogany bed, Tom thought about his conversation with Hermione Granger. She did not necessarily divulge all the information he wanted, but she did leave him with an interesting question, how do you destroy one's soul before the body? And why is it a banned subject at Hogwarts? And what spell was so horrible that only this Snape knew how to cure? "I wish I could get that map to work," Tom said to himself before drifting to sleep.
*******
As Halloween approached, everyone looked forward to their first Hogsmede visit of the year. Fifth and seventh year students were quite eager to get out a bit and away from their daunting work load.
"So it's all set. My cousin Pansy is going to meet us at the Three Broomsticks," said Patrick Parkinson, rolling up a piece of parchment he received during the morning post.
"I wonder if she would buy us some firewhiskey," commented Flint, not noticing the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain was behind him.
"You do realise, Flint, that Firewhiskey is strictly forbidden members of house teams, as well as anyone under age?" she asked.
"It was just a question," said Flint blankly, waiting for her to walk away. Taking out his wand, Flint said,"Diffindo," causing the back of her robes to rip open.
Laughter filled the Great Hall as the poor girl ran out, crying over her exposed back.
"That should teach her to listen in on my conversations," laughed Flint, knocking over pumpkin juice on his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.
"Flint, you idiot," laughed Tom as he took out his wand and used a hot air charm to dry the parchment. "Try to keep your homework safe until after you've handed it in, won't you."
Flint rolled his eyes and packed up his belongings as everyone left the Great Hall for DADA class.
*******
"I would like you all to take out your homework assignment." With a wave of her wand, two dozen pieces of parchment landed in a neat pile on Professor Dissanayake's desk. "Wands out and please form two rows in the centre of the room." With another wave of her wand, all the tables pushed themselves against the walls. "The person next to you will be your partner for the day. Now that we all have a general understanding of both jinxes and counter-jinxes, we are going to put that knowledge to use. A word of caution, we are not duelling, class. Anyone caught doing so shall receive a weeks worth of detention. With that said, begin."
Tom looked at the timid, face of his partner, Julia Jamison. A pretty girl with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes, she had watched Tom in the duelling club where Professor Flitwick was now the only person skilled enough to go against him. Ms. Jamison nervously took out her wand and stood ready to produce a shield charm when he tried to hex her.
"Shall we?" Tom asked with air of confidence. Taking his wand out of his pocket, he turned around in a circle and shouted,"Alvaculeus." A swarm of bee stings covered Julia Jamison's hands, face and neck.
Feeling her face for welts with the tips of her finger, Julia dropped her wand as she began to sob.
"Abscedere," The bee stings disappeared as Tom rolled his eyes. Weakness he thought; what a poor show of character. "Are we ready to continue, Ms. Jamison?"
All Julia could do was nod as she was still feeling for any welts left on her skin.
"Cadere," Tom pointed his wand at his partner as she lost control of her balance and fell to the floor. Unable to get back up, it was like her legs were strapped to the ground by invisible ropes. Frightened by her inability to get up, Julia thrashed around on the floor. "Have it your way," Tom said inattentively to Julia Jamison before he lifted the curse.
Over the next half an hour, Tom continued to hit his Defense Against the Dark Arts partner with multiple hexes not allowing her to get in a single shot. Pleased with his performance, he held out his hand for Ms. Jamison as she fell on top of a heap of pillows. "One of these days you are going to look back on this day and be grateful that you were able to walk away from me unscathed," Tom whispered. Looking even more terrified, Julia Jamison swiftly joined the rest of her fellow fifth years walking out of the classroom. Smirking, Tom placed his wand inside his pocket, picked up his bag and was the last student out the door.
Question, comments, etc.. here thanks.
"Celia, are you ready yet?" called Tom from the entrance to the girl’s dormitory. Checking his watch he realized they were more than fashionably late. Tom never arrived to social gatherings on time; his mother always said to arrive when they would least expect it. Two hours, however, was a bit ridiculous.
"Girls", Tom thought rolling his eyes, wondering what exactly could be keeping Celia.
"Two minutes, I swear." Reaching under her bed for her shoes and rushing to put on her opal earrings, Celia walked into the common room and said, "Ready."
It's about time, thought Tom, but instead he told her most insincerely that she looked lovely.
"Thank you. I should since Cormac McLaggen will be here tonight in addition to your bookworm. You know he's keeping for the Tornados now. With a little luck he may even play for Ireland's national team." As they said their good byes to Parkinson and Flint, each of whom was uninvited, Celia continued to gab about McLaggen. "I wonder what house he belonged to when he attended school. I took a peek in the trophy room but there was nothing mentioned of him being on any team. You would think with his talents, he would have been Quidditch captain. There was loads of stuff with Harry Potter though."
"Show me."
"What? Now, Tom?"
Tom nodded and turned to walk up the stairs to the third floor to the trophy room. Celia, a bit surprised by his sudden interest, took a deep sigh and followed suit. "Right this way, Mr. Durgan."
Inside the trophy room, Tom looked upon several cups, trophies, medals, and plaques, as Celia led him to the school's Quidditch shields that named all the past and present team members. "This Potter kid became seeker for Gryffindor his first year, then captain in his sixth. And look, Flint's father was Slytherin captain while he was here."
"Tom, this is all very nice, but can we please go to the party now? I'm sure Peeves will be here soon, and I don't want my hair ruined."
"In one minute. What do you have to do to receive an award for services to the school? That Potter kid got one too, along with Tom Riddle." Tom gave an involuntary shudder as he laid eyes on the name Tom. Poor kid, he thought. I'm sure you were no ordinary chap yourself. Then it hit him. "I've heard this name before. Or I read it somewhere but where?"
"Tom, let's go," said Celia, pulling Tom out of the Trophy room and back down the stairs to Slughorn's classroom.
"Tom, my boy! Glad you could make it!" cheered Professor Slughorn, patting Tom on the back as he and Celia entered the room. “And, Ms. Burke, always a pleasure.”
"I wouldn't miss one of your parties for anything, Professor."
"Tom, I would like to introduce you to somebody. McLaggen," Slughorn called as a tall, blonde haired man walked over to them. "Tom, this is Cormac McLaggen. The Tornados just recruited him this year to play keeper. McLaggen, this is Tom Durgan, one of my finest."
"Good to meet you," smiled Tom, holding out his hand for the wizard to shake.
"Likewise," Taking notice of Celia standing next to Tom, he took her hand and gently kissed it. "Cormac McLaggen. And you are?"
"Celia Burke," she blushed. "Mr. McLaggen, it's wonderful actually to meet you. I've been a fan of yours since you played on the reserve team for the Montrose Magpies."
"Why thank you for your support. I don't think I would have lasted this long without my adoring fans. If you would like, we could go get a drink and I can tell you all about my trials during Quidditch."
"I would just...yes," Celia turning slightly pink in the cheeks, forgot Tom and followed McLaggen to the refreshment table, giggling all the way.
"That's McLaggen for you. Always willing to spend an evening with his fans," smiled Slughorn
"Yes. Professor. Has that author you told me about here?"
"Ms. Granger? She is around here somewhere," replied Professor Slughorn, looking across the room in search of Hermione. "Ah, yes. There she is. Over in the far corner." Pointing towards Hermione, Tom thanked Slughorn and graciously excused himself from his professor's company.
Hermione Granger stood in the far corner of the room speaking with Greg Gibbons of Gryffindor and Alexis Alexander of Ravenclaw. "You really are friends with the Harry Potter?" asked Alexis Alexander in awe. "Do you think you can get his autograph for me?"
"Excuse me, Ms. Granger. I don't mean to intrude on your conversation, but I just had to come to meet you," smiled Tom, stepping in front of Greg and Alexis. "I must say, I've read both your books and the work you are doing with S.P.E.W. is most honourable."
"Thank you very much, er..."
"Tom. Tom Durgan." Tom frowned slightly as he held out his hand for Hermione to shake.
"It's nice to meet you, Tom. So tell me, Tom, how do find the house elves here at Hogwarts?"
"Well, I think that once they become used to receiving compensation for their work, they will be a bit happier. Now if only we could get them to accept proper garments."
"Yes, that is the tricky part. Many that we’ve spoken with absolutely refuse new clothes."
"Perhaps one day soon house elves will desire freedom. If you don't mind, I would like to make a contribution to your cause." Tom said most convincingly, taking out a money bag and presenting it to Hermione. "It's a humble donation. Only about 20 galleons or so."
Hermione, blushed, simply dumbstruck by this boy that she said, "I don't know what to say, Tom. Thank you very much!"
"It was nothing. I just wish it could be more. What do you say I get us drinks?"
"That would be fine."
Turning around and walking to the refreshment table, Tom took the last two bottles of butterbeer from Greg Gibbons and returned to the corner where Hermione was standing.
Handing Hermione her drink, Tom raised his bottle and said, "To house elves and their freedom."
"Yes, to house elves." Hermione repeated, raising her bottle in toast. "I have to say I am actually very surprised by you. Most people who I speak with only want to discuss Harry Potter, the war and Voldemort's defeat. I was just in Bulgaria to promote S.P.E.W. and not a single person seemed interested."
"What exactly does Harry Potter and Voldemort have to do with house elves?" smiled Tom. "I gather you knew Harry Potter pretty well."
"He's still my best friend. Along with Ginny, his wife, and of course...Ron," Hermione added, looking sadly into her butterbeer.
"I'm sorry if I've upset you."
"No. You have not done a thing to upset me," Hermione assured Tom, taking a sip of her drink. "But yes, we all still keep in touch. It's miraculous too, considering everything we've been through. I mean the fact that we're still alive."
"Miraculous indeed," replied Tom, putting his empty butterbeer bottle down on a nearby table. "I think we need another drink. Would you please excuse me?"
At the refreshment table, Tom glanced at Celia who was submersed in a one sided conversation with that McLaggen bloke. Looking over his limited beverage options, Tom chose a decanter filled with red liquid and brought it back to Hermione. Reading her curious expression, he told her, "There is no more butterbeer."
"Oh. All right then." Hermione said, as she took out her wand about to conjure glasses but Tom interrupted her. "Allow me," he said, as he took out his own wand and produced two silver goblets out of thin air.
"Impressive," Hermione smiled as she poured each of them prudent amounts of drink.
"Thank you. I've taken an interest in learning more advanced magic for my year." Tom muttered a spell under his breath and a soft, antique sofa appeared against the wall. "Would you care to sit down?"
"My parents have a sofa just like this in their lounge. How did you..."
"It was nothing," interrupted Tom, waving his hand as he took a seat on the couch. So you were saying about your friends?"
"Yes. Well, Harry works at the Ministry of Magic in the Auror department. Ginny was offered a healer in training position at St. Mungo’s, but had to refuse because she was expecting the twins. She's often thought of working here in the hospital when the twins attend school. And Ron took over Quality Quidditch Supplies when the former owner turned up missing. They never did find his body. But Ron donates brooms to Hogwarts each year. Isn't that wonderful?"
"That's terrific. I've always wondered how the Quidditch teams manage to keep up with the new broom models each season." Tom smiled, withholding a laugh as he remembered hearing several Slytherin team-mates complain about the school brooms. "It sounds like Ron is a good man."
"Yes. Ron can be a wonderful man when he's not pretending to be one," Hermione finished glumly, pouring herself another generous amount of drink.
"Tell me about Harry."
"Harry's doing very well. I think he's finally found peace. You know, he just recently finished rebuilding his parent’s old house. It's really good for him too; it provides him with both a sense of closure and nearness to his parents. We've lost so many dear friends, and I know he still blames himself for Luna's death. Voldemort killed her personally after.... Harry's doing really well."
"I read about your friend Harry Potter in your book as well as The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. I could not believe he was only a baby the first time he defeated the Dark Lord and then 17 the last time. How did he do it?"
"It was not easy. The three of us, that is Harry, Ron, and I, had to manage to destroy his soul before Harry was able to attack his body. Death Eaters were all over the place; we were dodging curses everywhere. Nott, one of the Death Eaters, hit Ron with such a horrendous curse, we almost lost him. If it wasn't for Snape, I'm sure we would have," explained Hermione as she sat on the end of the sofa, glancing around the room.
"Snape, he was mentioned in your book. He murdered the former headmaster."
Hermione nodded and said," Yes. Apparently Snape and Professor Dumbledore had some sort of understanding. Harry absolutely loathed him. I can only imagine what it took Harry to ask Snape for help."
Hermione hiccuped and continued, "It was always one battle after another."
"Could you explain to me how you destroyed Voldemort's soul before his body?" Tom asked, twirling his wand, hoping for better information from Hermione.
"I'm not an expert. My information was always very limited when it came to that kind of magic." Seeing the bewildered expression on Tom's face, Hermione explained, "It's extremely dark magic and it's a banned subject here at Hogwarts. Well, Tom, if you will excuse me, I am going to say goodbye to Professor Slughorn and go home. Thank you again for your support with S.P.E.W." Hermione yawned and vanished her goblet as she stood up from the sofa and walked away.
Without any response, Tom continued to twirl his wand as he watched Hermione Granger leave.
*******
Later that night in his mahogany bed, Tom thought about his conversation with Hermione Granger. She did not necessarily divulge all the information he wanted, but she did leave him with an interesting question, how do you destroy one's soul before the body? And why is it a banned subject at Hogwarts? And what spell was so horrible that only this Snape knew how to cure? "I wish I could get that map to work," Tom said to himself before drifting to sleep.
*******
As Halloween approached, everyone looked forward to their first Hogsmede visit of the year. Fifth and seventh year students were quite eager to get out a bit and away from their daunting work load.
"So it's all set. My cousin Pansy is going to meet us at the Three Broomsticks," said Patrick Parkinson, rolling up a piece of parchment he received during the morning post.
"I wonder if she would buy us some firewhiskey," commented Flint, not noticing the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain was behind him.
"You do realise, Flint, that Firewhiskey is strictly forbidden members of house teams, as well as anyone under age?" she asked.
"It was just a question," said Flint blankly, waiting for her to walk away. Taking out his wand, Flint said,"Diffindo," causing the back of her robes to rip open.
Laughter filled the Great Hall as the poor girl ran out, crying over her exposed back.
"That should teach her to listen in on my conversations," laughed Flint, knocking over pumpkin juice on his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.
"Flint, you idiot," laughed Tom as he took out his wand and used a hot air charm to dry the parchment. "Try to keep your homework safe until after you've handed it in, won't you."
Flint rolled his eyes and packed up his belongings as everyone left the Great Hall for DADA class.
*******
"I would like you all to take out your homework assignment." With a wave of her wand, two dozen pieces of parchment landed in a neat pile on Professor Dissanayake's desk. "Wands out and please form two rows in the centre of the room." With another wave of her wand, all the tables pushed themselves against the walls. "The person next to you will be your partner for the day. Now that we all have a general understanding of both jinxes and counter-jinxes, we are going to put that knowledge to use. A word of caution, we are not duelling, class. Anyone caught doing so shall receive a weeks worth of detention. With that said, begin."
Tom looked at the timid, face of his partner, Julia Jamison. A pretty girl with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes, she had watched Tom in the duelling club where Professor Flitwick was now the only person skilled enough to go against him. Ms. Jamison nervously took out her wand and stood ready to produce a shield charm when he tried to hex her.
"Shall we?" Tom asked with air of confidence. Taking his wand out of his pocket, he turned around in a circle and shouted,"Alvaculeus." A swarm of bee stings covered Julia Jamison's hands, face and neck.
Feeling her face for welts with the tips of her finger, Julia dropped her wand as she began to sob.
"Abscedere," The bee stings disappeared as Tom rolled his eyes. Weakness he thought; what a poor show of character. "Are we ready to continue, Ms. Jamison?"
All Julia could do was nod as she was still feeling for any welts left on her skin.
"Cadere," Tom pointed his wand at his partner as she lost control of her balance and fell to the floor. Unable to get back up, it was like her legs were strapped to the ground by invisible ropes. Frightened by her inability to get up, Julia thrashed around on the floor. "Have it your way," Tom said inattentively to Julia Jamison before he lifted the curse.
Over the next half an hour, Tom continued to hit his Defense Against the Dark Arts partner with multiple hexes not allowing her to get in a single shot. Pleased with his performance, he held out his hand for Ms. Jamison as she fell on top of a heap of pillows. "One of these days you are going to look back on this day and be grateful that you were able to walk away from me unscathed," Tom whispered. Looking even more terrified, Julia Jamison swiftly joined the rest of her fellow fifth years walking out of the classroom. Smirking, Tom placed his wand inside his pocket, picked up his bag and was the last student out the door.
Question, comments, etc.. here thanks.
And on with the next chapter....
Growing annoyed by Celia Burke's endless telling of how she docked a bunch of Gryffindor first years 20 points, Tom quietly left the Slytherin common room to begin his potions essay in the library before beginning his evening patrol. Moving through the castle using the short cuts he managed to discover over the past few years, Tom walked straight into the path of Peeves the poltergeist that happened to have been chased outside of the library for using the school's books for a game of dominos.
"Out! Out! And stay out you...you..." shouted Madam Pince, waving her wand carelessly at Peeves. "The library is now closed!" Madam Pince squawked as she noticed Tom standing in the corridor and slammed the door behind her.
There went that idea, Tom thought, glancing at his wristwatch to see that he had an hour until his prefect duties begin. Walking along the castle up countless sets of stairs, Tom stumbled on a door he never saw before on the seventh floor corridor by the moving tapestry. He opened the door and entered the secret room.
Peeking throughout the room at various artifacts, including a broken cabinet, a dusty old bookshelf, and an old sword, Tom could not believe he hadn't found this place sooner. Eyeing the bookcase most curiously, Tom picked up a tattered, dusty old leather bound book and read the cover. Vetus Sapientia a Divinus.
Old Wisdom of the Divine, Tom read to himself as a slip of parchment fell out of the book and landed on the floor. Gently picking it up, Tom noticed its nearly faded scrawl.
If ye seek truth, then I am the key,
I am the legend of the walls ye be.
Reading the parchment several times over, Tom Durgan was completely befuddled and placed the slip back into the book and pocketed it before leaving the room to meet Celia in the courtyard.
*******
"Look at the sky, Tom. It's so creepy out tonight."
Tom just shrugged as he lit the tip of his wand, casting a stream of light on the ground.
"So, what kept you?"
"Oh. Peeves wreaked havoc in the library."
"I honestly don't know why McGonagall does not expel him. Peeves is a menace!"
"I'm not entirely sure she can. He's a poltergeist, not a ghost," replied Tom as they walked towards the lake.
"Well, at least we have the Bloody Baron to keep him in line. Hey Tom! What is that by the edge of the forest? It looks like..." Celia stretched her neck in attempt to get a better look at the strange figure. "Tom, that's a man over there. We have to go... get the Headmistress." Celia finished with a sense of urgency as she ran back to the castle to tell of their trespasser.
Tom, however, kept watching the billowing cloak until it was completely out of sight, ignoring the flash of white zooming passed him in the direction of Hagrid's hut. A moment later Filch appeared holding an oil lantern in each hand. "The Headmistress would like a word," and Filch disappeared into the forest to investigate with Hagrid, who was already there by the sounds of a whimpering Fang.
Before entering the castle, Tom took one final look around the grounds then proceeded to Professor McGonagall's office.
*******
"Mr. Durgan, well come along," said Professor McGonagall, waiting for Tom in front of the stone gargoyle. "Bishop," she said and ushered Tom and Celia up the moving staircase to her office.
"Please have a seat and I would like for you to tell me exactly what you saw." Professor McGonagall took her own seat at her desk and eyed the two as if attempting to identify any cause for concern.
"We saw a man by the edge of the Forbidden Forest."
"And could you please describe this man, Ms. Burke?"
"No, Professor. All I saw was his figure, and then I ran into the castle where Filch stopped me."
"I see. And what about you, Mr. Durgan? Did you see a man by the forest?"
Before Tom could answer, Hagrid barged into the office.
"Professor McGonagall, the forest is clear. I checked it meself."
"Thank you, Hagrid. Mr. Durgan, did you see anything unusual?"
"No, Professor. It was just the trees."
"Very well, Ms. Burke, perhaps you should get some rest. Mr. Durgan, I would like a quick word."
"Certainly, Professor," replied Tom, shifting in his seat, resting his foot on his knee as both Celia and Hagrid left the office.
"Would you mind telling me what you were doing on the seventh floor corridor by the moving tapestry of Barnabas and Barmy this evening?"
Tom blinked and said, "Well, Professor, the library closed early this evening due to a most unfortunate mishap with Peeves, and as I was leaving, the stairs brought me to the seventh floor. I came across a door I had never seen before. Naturally, curiosity got the better of me, but door opened up to most cosy study."
"Mr. Durgan, your intentions seem innocent. I should tell you that entry through that door is monitored and it is now off limits to any student. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Professor. Is there anything else?"
"No. You may go."
Nodding, Tom said goodnight and left McGonagall's office.
"He doesn't seem to be lying. What do you think Albus? Albus?" McGonagall turned around to face Dumbledore's sleeping portrait.
*******
During breakfast the morning of Halloween, Tom helped himself to eggs and sausage as the others went over their plans for the day.
"I need to go to Honeydukes and stock up on some supplies," said Flint.
"Don't forget we're meeting my cousin at one o'clock at..."
"The Three Broomsticks, Parkinson, we know already," Flint interrupted, taking a mouthful of bacon. "Wha’ `bout u, `ugan?"
"Flint, that is most revolting! I do have a matter to attend to before entering the village, but I will meet you at the Three Broomsticks this afternoon, and, yes, Parkinson, at one o'clock. I know."
Finished with his breakfast, Tom walked outside the castle and sat down on the ground by the lake. Waiting a few minutes in order to watch the students allowed in the village as well as teachers leave, Tom got up and walked around the lake to enter the Forbidden Forest.
Several meters inside the forest, Tom crossed paths with a snake slithering along the earth.
"Excuse me, "Tom called in parstletongue, getting the snakes attention. “The other night, did you happen to notice a strange man in a dark cloak here in the forest?"
"I ssssee all kindssss of sssstrange creaturessss."
"Yes, but did you see a man?"
"I sssssaw two men from the sssschool and another I have ssseen here only twice before."
"Before?"
"The firsssst time wasss: monthssss ago. He went to the tomb at the edge of the lake. I believe you can find him if you know where to look."
Taking a moment to think, Tom then thanked the snake for his confidence and left the forest to meet his fellow Slytherins in Hogsmede.
*******
Stepping inside the crowded pub, Tom ordered a butterbeer from the bar maid and observed the many groups filling all the tables in the Three Broomsticks.
Laying eyes upon the table occupied by Patrick Parkinson, his cousin Pansy, along with Flint and Celia, Tom put down some gold on the counter and joined his peers.
"Durgan, I was starting to think you weren't going to show," Flint smirked. "Look what we got, Firewhiskey!"
As Flint handed a glass nearly full of the drink, Tom nodded his head towards the table the Gryffindor’s and said, "You better not let them hear you say that." Laughing, Tom took a drink that caused him to nearly choke. Massaging his throat he said, "I think I'll stick to my own beverage," and placed the Firewhiskey down on the table.
"Tom. This is my cousin, Pansy," said Patrick.
"Lovely to meet you Ms. Parkinson."
Laughing, Pansy replied, "There's no need for formality, lest you’re a mudblood or a Gryffindor."
Unamused, Tom grinned and put his hands in his pocket just as Pansy started choking. Once her face turned the colour of her robes, Pansy all of a sudden was able to breath once more.
Filling an empty glass on the table with water, Pansy restored her composure and continued, "So how's old Slughorn treating you lot? He came out of retirement my sixth year. I often wondered why he was ever a Slytherin; I feel he lacks certain wizarding pride. Consorting with, mudbloods and all that…"
"Slughorn's all right."
"Easy for you to say. Durgan here is Slughorn's favourite," said Flint.
"Harry Potter along with that Hermione Granger were his favourites while I was here."
"Did you know Harry Potter?" asked Tom sounding as apathetic as possible.
"Unfortunately. He was always showing off. He just had to be the center of attention. Poor Draco always knew it. I'm sure Potter's the reason he's dead too... at least that's what I heard. But one of these days I'm sure Potter will get his."
"I heard he was a bit of a ..."
"Git," said Flint. "My dad played against him in Quidditch. He despised Potter. Well, he despised anyone not a Slytherin, but that's beside the point."
"Oooh, is it really true that Longbottom is teaching here? He was always such a... well, you've seen him."
"I believe the proper name is Roundbottom," winked Flint as everyone at the table began to laugh.
"Well, Pansy, it's been a pleasure meeting you. If you all will excuse me, I need to get back to the castle," said Tom before leaving.
"What was that all about?" Pansy asked after Tom left the Three Broomsticks.
Everyone just exchanged puzzled looks and shrugged.
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Growing annoyed by Celia Burke's endless telling of how she docked a bunch of Gryffindor first years 20 points, Tom quietly left the Slytherin common room to begin his potions essay in the library before beginning his evening patrol. Moving through the castle using the short cuts he managed to discover over the past few years, Tom walked straight into the path of Peeves the poltergeist that happened to have been chased outside of the library for using the school's books for a game of dominos.
"Out! Out! And stay out you...you..." shouted Madam Pince, waving her wand carelessly at Peeves. "The library is now closed!" Madam Pince squawked as she noticed Tom standing in the corridor and slammed the door behind her.
There went that idea, Tom thought, glancing at his wristwatch to see that he had an hour until his prefect duties begin. Walking along the castle up countless sets of stairs, Tom stumbled on a door he never saw before on the seventh floor corridor by the moving tapestry. He opened the door and entered the secret room.
Peeking throughout the room at various artifacts, including a broken cabinet, a dusty old bookshelf, and an old sword, Tom could not believe he hadn't found this place sooner. Eyeing the bookcase most curiously, Tom picked up a tattered, dusty old leather bound book and read the cover. Vetus Sapientia a Divinus.
Old Wisdom of the Divine, Tom read to himself as a slip of parchment fell out of the book and landed on the floor. Gently picking it up, Tom noticed its nearly faded scrawl.
If ye seek truth, then I am the key,
I am the legend of the walls ye be.
Reading the parchment several times over, Tom Durgan was completely befuddled and placed the slip back into the book and pocketed it before leaving the room to meet Celia in the courtyard.
*******
"Look at the sky, Tom. It's so creepy out tonight."
Tom just shrugged as he lit the tip of his wand, casting a stream of light on the ground.
"So, what kept you?"
"Oh. Peeves wreaked havoc in the library."
"I honestly don't know why McGonagall does not expel him. Peeves is a menace!"
"I'm not entirely sure she can. He's a poltergeist, not a ghost," replied Tom as they walked towards the lake.
"Well, at least we have the Bloody Baron to keep him in line. Hey Tom! What is that by the edge of the forest? It looks like..." Celia stretched her neck in attempt to get a better look at the strange figure. "Tom, that's a man over there. We have to go... get the Headmistress." Celia finished with a sense of urgency as she ran back to the castle to tell of their trespasser.
Tom, however, kept watching the billowing cloak until it was completely out of sight, ignoring the flash of white zooming passed him in the direction of Hagrid's hut. A moment later Filch appeared holding an oil lantern in each hand. "The Headmistress would like a word," and Filch disappeared into the forest to investigate with Hagrid, who was already there by the sounds of a whimpering Fang.
Before entering the castle, Tom took one final look around the grounds then proceeded to Professor McGonagall's office.
*******
"Mr. Durgan, well come along," said Professor McGonagall, waiting for Tom in front of the stone gargoyle. "Bishop," she said and ushered Tom and Celia up the moving staircase to her office.
"Please have a seat and I would like for you to tell me exactly what you saw." Professor McGonagall took her own seat at her desk and eyed the two as if attempting to identify any cause for concern.
"We saw a man by the edge of the Forbidden Forest."
"And could you please describe this man, Ms. Burke?"
"No, Professor. All I saw was his figure, and then I ran into the castle where Filch stopped me."
"I see. And what about you, Mr. Durgan? Did you see a man by the forest?"
Before Tom could answer, Hagrid barged into the office.
"Professor McGonagall, the forest is clear. I checked it meself."
"Thank you, Hagrid. Mr. Durgan, did you see anything unusual?"
"No, Professor. It was just the trees."
"Very well, Ms. Burke, perhaps you should get some rest. Mr. Durgan, I would like a quick word."
"Certainly, Professor," replied Tom, shifting in his seat, resting his foot on his knee as both Celia and Hagrid left the office.
"Would you mind telling me what you were doing on the seventh floor corridor by the moving tapestry of Barnabas and Barmy this evening?"
Tom blinked and said, "Well, Professor, the library closed early this evening due to a most unfortunate mishap with Peeves, and as I was leaving, the stairs brought me to the seventh floor. I came across a door I had never seen before. Naturally, curiosity got the better of me, but door opened up to most cosy study."
"Mr. Durgan, your intentions seem innocent. I should tell you that entry through that door is monitored and it is now off limits to any student. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Professor. Is there anything else?"
"No. You may go."
Nodding, Tom said goodnight and left McGonagall's office.
"He doesn't seem to be lying. What do you think Albus? Albus?" McGonagall turned around to face Dumbledore's sleeping portrait.
*******
During breakfast the morning of Halloween, Tom helped himself to eggs and sausage as the others went over their plans for the day.
"I need to go to Honeydukes and stock up on some supplies," said Flint.
"Don't forget we're meeting my cousin at one o'clock at..."
"The Three Broomsticks, Parkinson, we know already," Flint interrupted, taking a mouthful of bacon. "Wha’ `bout u, `ugan?"
"Flint, that is most revolting! I do have a matter to attend to before entering the village, but I will meet you at the Three Broomsticks this afternoon, and, yes, Parkinson, at one o'clock. I know."
Finished with his breakfast, Tom walked outside the castle and sat down on the ground by the lake. Waiting a few minutes in order to watch the students allowed in the village as well as teachers leave, Tom got up and walked around the lake to enter the Forbidden Forest.
Several meters inside the forest, Tom crossed paths with a snake slithering along the earth.
"Excuse me, "Tom called in parstletongue, getting the snakes attention. “The other night, did you happen to notice a strange man in a dark cloak here in the forest?"
"I ssssee all kindssss of sssstrange creaturessss."
"Yes, but did you see a man?"
"I sssssaw two men from the sssschool and another I have ssseen here only twice before."
"Before?"
"The firsssst time wasss: monthssss ago. He went to the tomb at the edge of the lake. I believe you can find him if you know where to look."
Taking a moment to think, Tom then thanked the snake for his confidence and left the forest to meet his fellow Slytherins in Hogsmede.
*******
Stepping inside the crowded pub, Tom ordered a butterbeer from the bar maid and observed the many groups filling all the tables in the Three Broomsticks.
Laying eyes upon the table occupied by Patrick Parkinson, his cousin Pansy, along with Flint and Celia, Tom put down some gold on the counter and joined his peers.
"Durgan, I was starting to think you weren't going to show," Flint smirked. "Look what we got, Firewhiskey!"
As Flint handed a glass nearly full of the drink, Tom nodded his head towards the table the Gryffindor’s and said, "You better not let them hear you say that." Laughing, Tom took a drink that caused him to nearly choke. Massaging his throat he said, "I think I'll stick to my own beverage," and placed the Firewhiskey down on the table.
"Tom. This is my cousin, Pansy," said Patrick.
"Lovely to meet you Ms. Parkinson."
Laughing, Pansy replied, "There's no need for formality, lest you’re a mudblood or a Gryffindor."
Unamused, Tom grinned and put his hands in his pocket just as Pansy started choking. Once her face turned the colour of her robes, Pansy all of a sudden was able to breath once more.
Filling an empty glass on the table with water, Pansy restored her composure and continued, "So how's old Slughorn treating you lot? He came out of retirement my sixth year. I often wondered why he was ever a Slytherin; I feel he lacks certain wizarding pride. Consorting with, mudbloods and all that…"
"Slughorn's all right."
"Easy for you to say. Durgan here is Slughorn's favourite," said Flint.
"Harry Potter along with that Hermione Granger were his favourites while I was here."
"Did you know Harry Potter?" asked Tom sounding as apathetic as possible.
"Unfortunately. He was always showing off. He just had to be the center of attention. Poor Draco always knew it. I'm sure Potter's the reason he's dead too... at least that's what I heard. But one of these days I'm sure Potter will get his."
"I heard he was a bit of a ..."
"Git," said Flint. "My dad played against him in Quidditch. He despised Potter. Well, he despised anyone not a Slytherin, but that's beside the point."
"Oooh, is it really true that Longbottom is teaching here? He was always such a... well, you've seen him."
"I believe the proper name is Roundbottom," winked Flint as everyone at the table began to laugh.
"Well, Pansy, it's been a pleasure meeting you. If you all will excuse me, I need to get back to the castle," said Tom before leaving.
"What was that all about?" Pansy asked after Tom left the Three Broomsticks.
Everyone just exchanged puzzled looks and shrugged.
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Hey everyone. Sorry for the delay... here goes chapter nine....
After abruptly leaving the Three Broomsticks, Tom stopped inside the post office to have a small package delivered to Durgan Acres. He whispered to the clerk, "The delivery owl must be discreet for this parcel is going to a muggle neighborhood. I believe it is best to deliver it at night, and only drop it off at the front door." With a wink, Tom placed a few gold coins on the counter before making his way back to the castle.
Alone in the boys dormitory, Tom lay sprawled across his bed in deep thought.
Harry Potter- defeated the Dark Lord
Snape- killed old headmaster
Old headmaster- ordered this Snape person to kill him
Dark Lord- soul destroyed before body- how is this possible?
Who was the man in the forest?
Who wrote the mystery parchment?
Why won't the map work?
Shaking his head, Tom reached beside his bed for his bag and pulled out a quill and some parchment. Deciding he should write an apology letter to Pansy Parkinson, he scribbled a note of thanks for meeting him that day and apologized for his abrupt departure. He ended the letter with an invitation to meet with him and his peers next Hogsmeade visit. Satisfied with his writing, he sealed the parchment and glanced at his watch. It was nearly time for the Halloween feast to begin. Lazily getting out of bed, he freshened himself up a bit and left the Slytherin common room.
"Tom, my boy!" boasted Professor Slughorn, joining Tom up the stairs that lead to the Great Hall. "Had a good-hic-day in Hogs-up-meade today?"
"Yes, Professor. It was quite delightful."
"Hic- I was talking about-up- you to a friend of mine. He-hic-works at the-up- ministry. Quite interest-hic-ed in you. If only-up- I can remember what office..." Professor Slughorn concluded as he stepped inside the Great Hall. Tom nodded to his Potions master as he found his seat at the front of the Slytherin table and watched his teacher stumble towards the row of seats designated for Hogwart's faculty.
"Durgan! Mind telling us what that was all about today?" demanded Flint as soon as Tom sat down at the table.
"I wasn't feeling well, if you must know. Not to worry, Parkinson. I've written your cousin a letter explaining my peculiar behavior which I will send in the morning. Celia, pass me a cauldron cake."
"Are you feeling better now? Perhaps you should go to the hospital for some Pepperup potion," said Celia Burke, putting the cake on Tom's plate and feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.
"I'm much better now, thank you," replied Tom, pushing her hand away from his head.
"As long as you're sure."
"You missed all the excitement, Tom," Patrick said, helping himself to hearty servings of pumpkin pasties and witches brew. "Old Slughorn was sitting at a table with a few people from the ministry and Professor McGonagall. Then all of a sudden, in a state of fury, or perhaps even panic, Slughorn upturned all the tables, stripped down the walls, and broke several chairs. The place looked like it was attacked!"
"It was wicked!" added Flint.
"Does anyone know why Slughorn made such a spectacle of himself?" asked Tom.
"No clue. He must be mad."
"Yes. We should have him carted off to St. Mungo's; I hear they have an entire floor for addled brains," laughed Flint, trying to shoo away a bat flying above his head.
After everyone cleared their plates of cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, and witches brew; Professor McGonagall made a brief announcement that the nights ground patrol would be canceled and sent them off to bed.
The students of Hogwarts spent their Sunday finishing homework assignments while the house quidditch teams fought over extended practice times.
"The first match is next Saturday!" shouted Flint walking across the courtyard with his fellow teammates. "We need to be out on the pitch now."
"We'll go have a chat with Slughorn. Maybe he can write a note saying we get the pitch this afternoon," said one of the Slytherin beaters.
"I heard Roundbottom's got it booked the entire day. Someone ought to show him," grumbled Flint, throwing the quaffle in his hands and accidentally knocked out a first year sitting on a bench. "Oops! Let's get out of here," he said before summoning the quaffle.
Inside the common room, Flint found Tom laying down on one of the sofas and Patrick and Celia working on their Transfiguration homework due the next day.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" replied an annoyed Parkinson. "Our essays on Inanimatus Conjurus are due tomorrow, and I haven't a clue what it's all about!"
"Really! We don't get to attempt these spells until N.E.W.T.S., so why bother giving us homework on the topic?" added Celia.
"Come on now, it's not that difficult," interrupted Tom pulling out his wand from his pocket. "You just have to concentrate on the object you want to conjure. Here." With a wave of his wand, four butterbeers appeared on the table. "Nothing to it," winked Tom, as he helped himself to a bottle and took a drink.
"How did you..."
"I didn't know you could..."
"It's nothing. Really. I just went ahead and read Advanced Transfiguration. I don't find it to be too terribly dreadful,"shrugged Tom, taking another sip of butterbeer. "If you lot will excuse me, I'm going to have a chat with Slughorn about my Befuddlement Draught."
Tom knocked on Slughorn's office door.
"Tom. What do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" said Slughorn, opening his door ever so slightly to not reveal his flannel sleep shirt. "I should say that I usually lie in on the weekends."
"Yes sir, but you should know it is now afternoon."
"Afternoon. Already? Goodness. Just a moment," Slughorn said as he hurriedly dressed himself. "Come in, Tom." Slughorn reopened the door and allowed Tom entrance to his office. "My my. At my age, time just slips through your finger tips. "
Not to mention the countless drinks from yesterday, Tom thought.
"Is this what I think it is?" asked Slughorn, noticing the crystallized pineapple in Tom's hand.
"Yes sir. I got it yesterday from Honeydukes."
"Why thank you, Tom. This is my favorite, after all. What do you say we have a taste?" Slughorn asked, greedily slicing the treat.
"You go ahead, Professor," smiled Tom. "Sir, I hoped I could ask you a question."
Devouring a piece of the pineapple, Slughorn merely nodded.
"The room on the seventh floor corridor, why is it nobody is allowed to enter it?"
"You've discovered the Room of Requirement then. Well, Tom, that room caused quite a stir several years ago. During the war, the Death Eaters stormed the castle entering through that room, and a cabinet if I'm not mistaken..."
"I see. But with the war over, why would the room be out-of-bounds?"
"Tom, it's better to be safe than sorry sometimes. This is delicious! Are you sure you don't want a taste?"
"No, Sir. How did Professor McGonagall know I stumbled across it?"
"No idea. I suppose she has a stealth jinx or something placed upon the room. I guess the room would have to be unplottable for it not to be picked up," finished Slughorn, licking his fingers.
"Thank you for your time, Professor. I'll see in class on Tuesday," said Tom as he began to leave the office.
"Thank you for that wonderful surprise!"
Walking up the steps to the seventh floor, Tom thought about Professor Slughorn's words and wondered how he could make the room unplottable. Finding the exact spot where he had found the door before, he continued his thoughts and a door once again appeared. Stepping over the threshold, Tom took a deep breath and began to search the bookcase once more.
In her office, Professor McGonagall looked over her very own Marauder's Map. Glancing over the floors, she was satisfied that the Room of Requirement was empty and turned her attention to the Forbidden Forest.
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After abruptly leaving the Three Broomsticks, Tom stopped inside the post office to have a small package delivered to Durgan Acres. He whispered to the clerk, "The delivery owl must be discreet for this parcel is going to a muggle neighborhood. I believe it is best to deliver it at night, and only drop it off at the front door." With a wink, Tom placed a few gold coins on the counter before making his way back to the castle.
Alone in the boys dormitory, Tom lay sprawled across his bed in deep thought.
Harry Potter- defeated the Dark Lord
Snape- killed old headmaster
Old headmaster- ordered this Snape person to kill him
Dark Lord- soul destroyed before body- how is this possible?
Who was the man in the forest?
Who wrote the mystery parchment?
Why won't the map work?
Shaking his head, Tom reached beside his bed for his bag and pulled out a quill and some parchment. Deciding he should write an apology letter to Pansy Parkinson, he scribbled a note of thanks for meeting him that day and apologized for his abrupt departure. He ended the letter with an invitation to meet with him and his peers next Hogsmeade visit. Satisfied with his writing, he sealed the parchment and glanced at his watch. It was nearly time for the Halloween feast to begin. Lazily getting out of bed, he freshened himself up a bit and left the Slytherin common room.
"Tom, my boy!" boasted Professor Slughorn, joining Tom up the stairs that lead to the Great Hall. "Had a good-hic-day in Hogs-up-meade today?"
"Yes, Professor. It was quite delightful."
"Hic- I was talking about-up- you to a friend of mine. He-hic-works at the-up- ministry. Quite interest-hic-ed in you. If only-up- I can remember what office..." Professor Slughorn concluded as he stepped inside the Great Hall. Tom nodded to his Potions master as he found his seat at the front of the Slytherin table and watched his teacher stumble towards the row of seats designated for Hogwart's faculty.
"Durgan! Mind telling us what that was all about today?" demanded Flint as soon as Tom sat down at the table.
"I wasn't feeling well, if you must know. Not to worry, Parkinson. I've written your cousin a letter explaining my peculiar behavior which I will send in the morning. Celia, pass me a cauldron cake."
"Are you feeling better now? Perhaps you should go to the hospital for some Pepperup potion," said Celia Burke, putting the cake on Tom's plate and feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.
"I'm much better now, thank you," replied Tom, pushing her hand away from his head.
"As long as you're sure."
"You missed all the excitement, Tom," Patrick said, helping himself to hearty servings of pumpkin pasties and witches brew. "Old Slughorn was sitting at a table with a few people from the ministry and Professor McGonagall. Then all of a sudden, in a state of fury, or perhaps even panic, Slughorn upturned all the tables, stripped down the walls, and broke several chairs. The place looked like it was attacked!"
"It was wicked!" added Flint.
"Does anyone know why Slughorn made such a spectacle of himself?" asked Tom.
"No clue. He must be mad."
"Yes. We should have him carted off to St. Mungo's; I hear they have an entire floor for addled brains," laughed Flint, trying to shoo away a bat flying above his head.
After everyone cleared their plates of cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, and witches brew; Professor McGonagall made a brief announcement that the nights ground patrol would be canceled and sent them off to bed.
The students of Hogwarts spent their Sunday finishing homework assignments while the house quidditch teams fought over extended practice times.
"The first match is next Saturday!" shouted Flint walking across the courtyard with his fellow teammates. "We need to be out on the pitch now."
"We'll go have a chat with Slughorn. Maybe he can write a note saying we get the pitch this afternoon," said one of the Slytherin beaters.
"I heard Roundbottom's got it booked the entire day. Someone ought to show him," grumbled Flint, throwing the quaffle in his hands and accidentally knocked out a first year sitting on a bench. "Oops! Let's get out of here," he said before summoning the quaffle.
Inside the common room, Flint found Tom laying down on one of the sofas and Patrick and Celia working on their Transfiguration homework due the next day.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" replied an annoyed Parkinson. "Our essays on Inanimatus Conjurus are due tomorrow, and I haven't a clue what it's all about!"
"Really! We don't get to attempt these spells until N.E.W.T.S., so why bother giving us homework on the topic?" added Celia.
"Come on now, it's not that difficult," interrupted Tom pulling out his wand from his pocket. "You just have to concentrate on the object you want to conjure. Here." With a wave of his wand, four butterbeers appeared on the table. "Nothing to it," winked Tom, as he helped himself to a bottle and took a drink.
"How did you..."
"I didn't know you could..."
"It's nothing. Really. I just went ahead and read Advanced Transfiguration. I don't find it to be too terribly dreadful,"shrugged Tom, taking another sip of butterbeer. "If you lot will excuse me, I'm going to have a chat with Slughorn about my Befuddlement Draught."
Tom knocked on Slughorn's office door.
"Tom. What do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" said Slughorn, opening his door ever so slightly to not reveal his flannel sleep shirt. "I should say that I usually lie in on the weekends."
"Yes sir, but you should know it is now afternoon."
"Afternoon. Already? Goodness. Just a moment," Slughorn said as he hurriedly dressed himself. "Come in, Tom." Slughorn reopened the door and allowed Tom entrance to his office. "My my. At my age, time just slips through your finger tips. "
Not to mention the countless drinks from yesterday, Tom thought.
"Is this what I think it is?" asked Slughorn, noticing the crystallized pineapple in Tom's hand.
"Yes sir. I got it yesterday from Honeydukes."
"Why thank you, Tom. This is my favorite, after all. What do you say we have a taste?" Slughorn asked, greedily slicing the treat.
"You go ahead, Professor," smiled Tom. "Sir, I hoped I could ask you a question."
Devouring a piece of the pineapple, Slughorn merely nodded.
"The room on the seventh floor corridor, why is it nobody is allowed to enter it?"
"You've discovered the Room of Requirement then. Well, Tom, that room caused quite a stir several years ago. During the war, the Death Eaters stormed the castle entering through that room, and a cabinet if I'm not mistaken..."
"I see. But with the war over, why would the room be out-of-bounds?"
"Tom, it's better to be safe than sorry sometimes. This is delicious! Are you sure you don't want a taste?"
"No, Sir. How did Professor McGonagall know I stumbled across it?"
"No idea. I suppose she has a stealth jinx or something placed upon the room. I guess the room would have to be unplottable for it not to be picked up," finished Slughorn, licking his fingers.
"Thank you for your time, Professor. I'll see in class on Tuesday," said Tom as he began to leave the office.
"Thank you for that wonderful surprise!"
Walking up the steps to the seventh floor, Tom thought about Professor Slughorn's words and wondered how he could make the room unplottable. Finding the exact spot where he had found the door before, he continued his thoughts and a door once again appeared. Stepping over the threshold, Tom took a deep breath and began to search the bookcase once more.
In her office, Professor McGonagall looked over her very own Marauder's Map. Glancing over the floors, she was satisfied that the Room of Requirement was empty and turned her attention to the Forbidden Forest.
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Alright guys, I have chapter ten all ready with a huge thanks to Caity yet again. This is a shorter chapter, but I hope you like it none-the-less.
Looking through each book on several dusty old bookshelves, Tom found nothing of interest. Turning around, he walked down an alleyway in the Room of Requirement and sat down on an old, worn chair. Roughly the size of a cathedral, the room was simply too large to search in one day. Taking in the mountains of rubbish and pillars of books, Tom wasn't even sure if he could find the same bookcase again, until his eyes met those of an enormous stuffed troll. I've seen that before. Getting up from the chair and brushing the dust off his robes, Tom strolled down one road, then turned left. He was stood in front of the giant creature and turned right down another alleyway. To his right was an old cabinet containing a broken bust wearing a tiara, exhuming a horrendous stench of some pitiful creature that died, and to his left was a large broken cabinet. In front of him was an old bookshelf. Thumbing through old school books, diaries of former students, stacks of old newspapers, Tom decided to call it a day. Rubbing his now red eyes from the dust that surrounded him and placing a hand on the old cabinet, Tom felt a kind of surge run through his body. Caressing the cracked wood gently, Tom found the handle and opened the door. Empty, Tom thought as he peered into the dark. About to close the door, Tom could have sworn he heard a man scream from within the cabinet, but he heard nothing more. Deciding to revisit this spot next time, Tom magically placed a red X in the air above the cabinet and walked back through the roads and alleyways to the exit. Once outside the Room of Requirement, the door returned to stone, and Tom walked away.
***********
Inside a small parlour filled with old useless treasures, two men sat in the dark room while a single candle danced over the fireplace.
"I am losing my patience. I was told I would have an answer a month ago, yet still nothing," a man spoke in little more than a whisper, "Crucio!"
The second man screamed out in horror as he thrashed across the dirty floor.
"The map was mine, you miserable man. Get it back! You have one month to make good on your word."
"Yes sir. But the map... it's at Hogwarts too..."
"Then I suggest you get it when you return."
"I..."
"Thirty days," said the man before he vanished, leaving the second man alone in the dark.
*************
Sitting in the farthest cubicle from the entrance to the Auror Department, Harry caught a pale violet paper plane with MINISTRY OF MAGIC marked across the edge of its wings. Unfolding the paper plane, Harry read:
Mr. Potter,
Your presence is requested immediately in the Minister of Magic's office for an urgent briefing.
Yours Sincerely,
Rufus Scrimegour
So much for going home, Harry thought with a sigh as he opened his desk drawer to retrieve a small, gold mirror. Looking into his reflection, Harry said the name "Ginny."
"Oh, Harry. Please tell me you are still checking to make sure I carry this thing. Yes. I keep it with me at all times."
"No, Ginny. It's not that," Harry replied. It was true. Harry did tend to call on Ginny often; not so much to make sure she had her mirror as the simple fact he enjoyed hearing her voice in the monotonous work day. "It looks like I'll be home late today. I just received an urgent call."
"Oh. All right, Harry. Do be careful, and I will see you when you get home."
"Give the twins a kiss for me. I have to go." Harry closed the small mirror and placed it in his pocket. Getting up from his seat with a stretch, Harry walked through the maze of cubicles to the main hallway and took the lift to level one.
"It's about time," roared Rufus Scrimegour, Minister of Magic. "Hurry up and close the door."
Harry shut the door behind him as Dawlish placed and Imperturbable Charm on the door. "Sit down. We have a slight situation on our hands," Scrimegour said as Harry took a seat next to his department head allowing the Minister to continue. "It seems a couple of old friends have managed to escape Azkaban yet again."
"Who?" Harry asked.
Raising a bushy eyebrow, Scrimegour answered, "Avery and Malfoy."
"But how..."
"According the prison guards, the two of them managed to free themselves from their binds. Then when the anti-apparition jinx was removed to allow for shift change, they vanished."
"Do we have any leads?" asked Harry.
"None," answered Dawlish. "We sent members from Magical Enforcement to their homes, but both houses appear to be empty. We have wizards patrolling Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, as well as the village of Hogsmede. Nothing…"
"I see. I'll put together a team and..."
"Harry. I want this kept quiet," Scrimegour yet again interrupted Harry. "I don't want the entire Wizarding community to panic. I can just see the headlines in the Daily Prophet now:
Another Azkaban Breakout: Death Eaters on the Loose"
"And what if..."
"Harry, we need to keep this quiet for now. At least until we know their plans," said Dawlish.
"Fine, I expect I best get to work then," said Harry, as he got up and walked out of the office, letting the door slam behind him.
Waiting for the next available lift, Dawlish appeared next to Harry. "I know you would rather the Wizarding community know, but I think it's best this way, at least for now. You're not going..."
"Don't worry, I won't run to the Prophet. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to pay an old friend of mine a visit," Harry replied, entering the lift as the doors began to close. Pressing a button, the elevator took him to level eight as a cool female voice said, "The Atrium." Taking a couple of steps down the hall, Harry disappeared with a small crack and reappeared in Spinner's End.
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Looking through each book on several dusty old bookshelves, Tom found nothing of interest. Turning around, he walked down an alleyway in the Room of Requirement and sat down on an old, worn chair. Roughly the size of a cathedral, the room was simply too large to search in one day. Taking in the mountains of rubbish and pillars of books, Tom wasn't even sure if he could find the same bookcase again, until his eyes met those of an enormous stuffed troll. I've seen that before. Getting up from the chair and brushing the dust off his robes, Tom strolled down one road, then turned left. He was stood in front of the giant creature and turned right down another alleyway. To his right was an old cabinet containing a broken bust wearing a tiara, exhuming a horrendous stench of some pitiful creature that died, and to his left was a large broken cabinet. In front of him was an old bookshelf. Thumbing through old school books, diaries of former students, stacks of old newspapers, Tom decided to call it a day. Rubbing his now red eyes from the dust that surrounded him and placing a hand on the old cabinet, Tom felt a kind of surge run through his body. Caressing the cracked wood gently, Tom found the handle and opened the door. Empty, Tom thought as he peered into the dark. About to close the door, Tom could have sworn he heard a man scream from within the cabinet, but he heard nothing more. Deciding to revisit this spot next time, Tom magically placed a red X in the air above the cabinet and walked back through the roads and alleyways to the exit. Once outside the Room of Requirement, the door returned to stone, and Tom walked away.
***********
Inside a small parlour filled with old useless treasures, two men sat in the dark room while a single candle danced over the fireplace.
"I am losing my patience. I was told I would have an answer a month ago, yet still nothing," a man spoke in little more than a whisper, "Crucio!"
The second man screamed out in horror as he thrashed across the dirty floor.
"The map was mine, you miserable man. Get it back! You have one month to make good on your word."
"Yes sir. But the map... it's at Hogwarts too..."
"Then I suggest you get it when you return."
"I..."
"Thirty days," said the man before he vanished, leaving the second man alone in the dark.
*************
Sitting in the farthest cubicle from the entrance to the Auror Department, Harry caught a pale violet paper plane with MINISTRY OF MAGIC marked across the edge of its wings. Unfolding the paper plane, Harry read:
Mr. Potter,
Your presence is requested immediately in the Minister of Magic's office for an urgent briefing.
Yours Sincerely,
Rufus Scrimegour
So much for going home, Harry thought with a sigh as he opened his desk drawer to retrieve a small, gold mirror. Looking into his reflection, Harry said the name "Ginny."
"Oh, Harry. Please tell me you are still checking to make sure I carry this thing. Yes. I keep it with me at all times."
"No, Ginny. It's not that," Harry replied. It was true. Harry did tend to call on Ginny often; not so much to make sure she had her mirror as the simple fact he enjoyed hearing her voice in the monotonous work day. "It looks like I'll be home late today. I just received an urgent call."
"Oh. All right, Harry. Do be careful, and I will see you when you get home."
"Give the twins a kiss for me. I have to go." Harry closed the small mirror and placed it in his pocket. Getting up from his seat with a stretch, Harry walked through the maze of cubicles to the main hallway and took the lift to level one.
"It's about time," roared Rufus Scrimegour, Minister of Magic. "Hurry up and close the door."
Harry shut the door behind him as Dawlish placed and Imperturbable Charm on the door. "Sit down. We have a slight situation on our hands," Scrimegour said as Harry took a seat next to his department head allowing the Minister to continue. "It seems a couple of old friends have managed to escape Azkaban yet again."
"Who?" Harry asked.
Raising a bushy eyebrow, Scrimegour answered, "Avery and Malfoy."
"But how..."
"According the prison guards, the two of them managed to free themselves from their binds. Then when the anti-apparition jinx was removed to allow for shift change, they vanished."
"Do we have any leads?" asked Harry.
"None," answered Dawlish. "We sent members from Magical Enforcement to their homes, but both houses appear to be empty. We have wizards patrolling Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, as well as the village of Hogsmede. Nothing…"
"I see. I'll put together a team and..."
"Harry. I want this kept quiet," Scrimegour yet again interrupted Harry. "I don't want the entire Wizarding community to panic. I can just see the headlines in the Daily Prophet now:
Another Azkaban Breakout: Death Eaters on the Loose"
"And what if..."
"Harry, we need to keep this quiet for now. At least until we know their plans," said Dawlish.
"Fine, I expect I best get to work then," said Harry, as he got up and walked out of the office, letting the door slam behind him.
Waiting for the next available lift, Dawlish appeared next to Harry. "I know you would rather the Wizarding community know, but I think it's best this way, at least for now. You're not going..."
"Don't worry, I won't run to the Prophet. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to pay an old friend of mine a visit," Harry replied, entering the lift as the doors began to close. Pressing a button, the elevator took him to level eight as a cool female voice said, "The Atrium." Taking a couple of steps down the hall, Harry disappeared with a small crack and reappeared in Spinner's End.
feedback please
Here goes another chapter... hope you enjoy.
Once a homely community, Spinner's End was left broken down and cold. The towering mill cast dark shadows along the cobbled road and blocked any warmth from the sun. Arriving with a crack, Harry fought a wave of nausea as he breathed in the stale, pungent air. Shivering, he pulled his robes tightly around his body and hurried down the rows of broken window panes and skeletons of old homes until he reached the last house.
Small with curtains tightly drawn in the windows, the only sign of occupancy was the smoke drifting out of the broken chimney. Harry clenched his wand deep within his pocket while he walked across the stone path to the door. He knocked and waited a short moment until he heard movement on the other side. The door opened ajar and Harry caught a glimpse of the sallow faced man who once taught him Potions.
"Mr. Potter," Severus Snape said coolly as he opened the door further to reveal a small sitting room. "Tell me what I have done to earn this unexpected pleasure."
"I have a business matter I wish to discuss. May I come in?" Harry asked, boring his magnificent green eyes into the cold black ones before him.
"Very well," replied Snape, allowing Harry entrance into the small room surrounded by bookshelves and home to old, rickety furniture.
Satisfied, once the door closed behind his former teacher, Harry shot out, "Where's Malfoy?"
Snape folded his arms across his chest and simply said, "Being in the Auror Department, I presume you would know that Lucius Malfoy is locked in Azkaban."
"You know very well I'm not speaking of Lucius. Where's Draco?" Harry demanded.
"Tell me, Mr. Potter; why this sudden urge to reunite with Mr. Malfoy?"
"As you have it, Lucius is no longer in Azkaban. He and Avery managed to escape. From the sounds of it, they must have been planning it for some time."
Preparing to speak, Snape was interrupted by a crash from the second floor.
"What was that?" asked Harry, startled as he pulled out his wand from his pocket.
"Put that away, Potter. Draco, be polite and greet our visitor," snapped Snape, pointing his own wand at the bookcase which opened to reveal Draco Malfoy standing on the landing to the second floor.
"What do you want, Potter," spat Draco Malfoy, strolling down the stairs to meet Harry's face.
"I suppose you overheard what I told Snape?"
"Yea, so what if I did."
"Well, as of right now, your father has..."
"He's not my father! How dare you say that to me!" roared Draco, allowing Harry to revisit the exact moment 14 years ago....
"Father, I didn't mean.... I'm sorry...."
"You are no son of mine! I have no son!"
"What do you suppose we do with the boy, Lucius?" asked fellow Death Eater, Avery.
"Kill him...."
Then nothing as Draco shunted Harry from his memories. "Was that fun for you, Potter? Did you enjoy yourself in my head?"
"I didn't..."
"Never mind, I don't care. Leave me at once!"
"Draco," Harry called after Draco Malfoy who was halfway back up the stairs. The sound of Harry using his first name was enough to stop him in his tracks. "I need to know where he could be. I have to stop him."
Turning around and looking from Harry to Snape, Draco simply shrugged his shoulders.
"So the famous Potter has come for help," said Snape, his eyes glinting.
"Forget it," replied Harry.
Stroking his chin, Snape spoke slowly, "I suggest you carry on your search deep within London, Potter. There are clues just under the surface. Now if you will excuse me, Mr. Potter, good day to you." Snape ushered Harry outside, providing him with nothing that would help his search. Taking a few short steps, Harry vanished with a crack.
**********
"I wasn't expecting you until late, Harry. Is anything wrong?" asked Ginny as Harry entered their home in Godric's Hollow.
"It looks like I'm going to have my hands full for a while, Ginny. Malfoy and Avery escaped Azkaban," replied Harry, causing Ginny to gasp.
"But the Ministry is sending search parties and putting out notices, right?"
"I'm afraid not. Scrimegour wants to keep the news silent for now," said Harry, taking a seat next to Ginny at the table. "No leads, no clues, no witnesses. I even went to Snape..."
"Have you told Lupin yet?" asked Ginny.
"Not yet. I suppose I should." Harry got up from the table and walked across the room to the large fireplace between the kitchen and sitting room. Picking up a silver canister from the mantel, Harry took a pinch of powder and dropped it into the roaring fire. When the flames turned emerald green, Harry popped in his head and called for Lupin. Growing dizzy by the stream of fireplaces passing by, Harry closed his eyes until he heard a familiar voice.
"Harry," beamed Benjamin. "You look really funny!"
"Thanks, Benjamin. Is your dad around?"
"Harry, Is anything the matter?" came the voice of Remus Lupin.
"Lupin, I have an urgent matter to discuss. Would it be possible for you to come by Godric's Hollow?" asked Harry, spitting out soot.
"Of course, I'm on my way," replied Lupin, kissing his son goodbye before apparating away.
"Harry! Oh, hello Ginny. You look lovely as always," called Lupin, letting himself inside through the kitchen door.
"Thank you, Lupin. It's good to see you."
"Harry, you wanted to discuss something with me?"
"Yes, why don't you come inside and have a seat," suggested Harry from the sitting room. Lupin took his seat on a fluffy floral armchair and waited for Harry to continue. "I'm afraid that Malfoy and Avery managed a prison break."
Lupin nodded. "That doesn't exactly surprise me, Harry. What is the Ministry's call of action?"
"I have to find them. Scrimegour wants to keep it quiet, and I don't have anything to go on."
"I see," replied Lupin. Then it struck him; gasping, Lupin shook his head. "No. It couldn't possibly..."
"It couldn't possibly what?" asked Harry.
"Harry, it's nothing to worry over at the time. If you will excuse me, I need to have a word with McGonagall," said Lupin hurrying out of the massive armchair and hastily striding to the door. "I'll be in touch." With a nod to Ginny, Lupin left Godric's Hollow.
**********
With a gesture to the wooden chair in front of her desk, McGonagall gave a curt nod and waited for Lupin to continue.
"I just received word from Harry that there has been a breakout in Azkaban. Both Malfoy and Avery have escaped," said Lupin.
"I see. And you feel this may be connected to our trespasser?"
"That is possible. What business they have here at Hogwarts remains to be seen, but I thought that you should be put on guard."
"I appreciate that, Remus. By any chance, did you happen to notify Potter of our situation here?"
"No. But I can hardly deny he should not know. Harry's been assigned the task of apprehending the missing Death Eaters. Further more, Scrimegour wants to keep it quiet."
"I see..."
"I think it is time to allow Harry the truth," interrupted the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.
"I'll call for him in the morning. Remus, I would like you to attend as well," said McGonagall.
Rushing down the moving steps, Tom Durgan scurried down the corridor, questioning the news he overheard.
^^^^^^^^^
Please leave your questions, comments, theories, criticisms here please.
Once a homely community, Spinner's End was left broken down and cold. The towering mill cast dark shadows along the cobbled road and blocked any warmth from the sun. Arriving with a crack, Harry fought a wave of nausea as he breathed in the stale, pungent air. Shivering, he pulled his robes tightly around his body and hurried down the rows of broken window panes and skeletons of old homes until he reached the last house.
Small with curtains tightly drawn in the windows, the only sign of occupancy was the smoke drifting out of the broken chimney. Harry clenched his wand deep within his pocket while he walked across the stone path to the door. He knocked and waited a short moment until he heard movement on the other side. The door opened ajar and Harry caught a glimpse of the sallow faced man who once taught him Potions.
"Mr. Potter," Severus Snape said coolly as he opened the door further to reveal a small sitting room. "Tell me what I have done to earn this unexpected pleasure."
"I have a business matter I wish to discuss. May I come in?" Harry asked, boring his magnificent green eyes into the cold black ones before him.
"Very well," replied Snape, allowing Harry entrance into the small room surrounded by bookshelves and home to old, rickety furniture.
Satisfied, once the door closed behind his former teacher, Harry shot out, "Where's Malfoy?"
Snape folded his arms across his chest and simply said, "Being in the Auror Department, I presume you would know that Lucius Malfoy is locked in Azkaban."
"You know very well I'm not speaking of Lucius. Where's Draco?" Harry demanded.
"Tell me, Mr. Potter; why this sudden urge to reunite with Mr. Malfoy?"
"As you have it, Lucius is no longer in Azkaban. He and Avery managed to escape. From the sounds of it, they must have been planning it for some time."
Preparing to speak, Snape was interrupted by a crash from the second floor.
"What was that?" asked Harry, startled as he pulled out his wand from his pocket.
"Put that away, Potter. Draco, be polite and greet our visitor," snapped Snape, pointing his own wand at the bookcase which opened to reveal Draco Malfoy standing on the landing to the second floor.
"What do you want, Potter," spat Draco Malfoy, strolling down the stairs to meet Harry's face.
"I suppose you overheard what I told Snape?"
"Yea, so what if I did."
"Well, as of right now, your father has..."
"He's not my father! How dare you say that to me!" roared Draco, allowing Harry to revisit the exact moment 14 years ago....
"Father, I didn't mean.... I'm sorry...."
"You are no son of mine! I have no son!"
"What do you suppose we do with the boy, Lucius?" asked fellow Death Eater, Avery.
"Kill him...."
Then nothing as Draco shunted Harry from his memories. "Was that fun for you, Potter? Did you enjoy yourself in my head?"
"I didn't..."
"Never mind, I don't care. Leave me at once!"
"Draco," Harry called after Draco Malfoy who was halfway back up the stairs. The sound of Harry using his first name was enough to stop him in his tracks. "I need to know where he could be. I have to stop him."
Turning around and looking from Harry to Snape, Draco simply shrugged his shoulders.
"So the famous Potter has come for help," said Snape, his eyes glinting.
"Forget it," replied Harry.
Stroking his chin, Snape spoke slowly, "I suggest you carry on your search deep within London, Potter. There are clues just under the surface. Now if you will excuse me, Mr. Potter, good day to you." Snape ushered Harry outside, providing him with nothing that would help his search. Taking a few short steps, Harry vanished with a crack.
**********
"I wasn't expecting you until late, Harry. Is anything wrong?" asked Ginny as Harry entered their home in Godric's Hollow.
"It looks like I'm going to have my hands full for a while, Ginny. Malfoy and Avery escaped Azkaban," replied Harry, causing Ginny to gasp.
"But the Ministry is sending search parties and putting out notices, right?"
"I'm afraid not. Scrimegour wants to keep the news silent for now," said Harry, taking a seat next to Ginny at the table. "No leads, no clues, no witnesses. I even went to Snape..."
"Have you told Lupin yet?" asked Ginny.
"Not yet. I suppose I should." Harry got up from the table and walked across the room to the large fireplace between the kitchen and sitting room. Picking up a silver canister from the mantel, Harry took a pinch of powder and dropped it into the roaring fire. When the flames turned emerald green, Harry popped in his head and called for Lupin. Growing dizzy by the stream of fireplaces passing by, Harry closed his eyes until he heard a familiar voice.
"Harry," beamed Benjamin. "You look really funny!"
"Thanks, Benjamin. Is your dad around?"
"Harry, Is anything the matter?" came the voice of Remus Lupin.
"Lupin, I have an urgent matter to discuss. Would it be possible for you to come by Godric's Hollow?" asked Harry, spitting out soot.
"Of course, I'm on my way," replied Lupin, kissing his son goodbye before apparating away.
"Harry! Oh, hello Ginny. You look lovely as always," called Lupin, letting himself inside through the kitchen door.
"Thank you, Lupin. It's good to see you."
"Harry, you wanted to discuss something with me?"
"Yes, why don't you come inside and have a seat," suggested Harry from the sitting room. Lupin took his seat on a fluffy floral armchair and waited for Harry to continue. "I'm afraid that Malfoy and Avery managed a prison break."
Lupin nodded. "That doesn't exactly surprise me, Harry. What is the Ministry's call of action?"
"I have to find them. Scrimegour wants to keep it quiet, and I don't have anything to go on."
"I see," replied Lupin. Then it struck him; gasping, Lupin shook his head. "No. It couldn't possibly..."
"It couldn't possibly what?" asked Harry.
"Harry, it's nothing to worry over at the time. If you will excuse me, I need to have a word with McGonagall," said Lupin hurrying out of the massive armchair and hastily striding to the door. "I'll be in touch." With a nod to Ginny, Lupin left Godric's Hollow.
**********
With a gesture to the wooden chair in front of her desk, McGonagall gave a curt nod and waited for Lupin to continue.
"I just received word from Harry that there has been a breakout in Azkaban. Both Malfoy and Avery have escaped," said Lupin.
"I see. And you feel this may be connected to our trespasser?"
"That is possible. What business they have here at Hogwarts remains to be seen, but I thought that you should be put on guard."
"I appreciate that, Remus. By any chance, did you happen to notify Potter of our situation here?"
"No. But I can hardly deny he should not know. Harry's been assigned the task of apprehending the missing Death Eaters. Further more, Scrimegour wants to keep it quiet."
"I see..."
"I think it is time to allow Harry the truth," interrupted the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.
"I'll call for him in the morning. Remus, I would like you to attend as well," said McGonagall.
Rushing down the moving steps, Tom Durgan scurried down the corridor, questioning the news he overheard.
^^^^^^^^^
Please leave your questions, comments, theories, criticisms here please.
All right my wonderful readers... I've kept you waiting long enough. 
Here goes chapter 12
"Durgan! You look like you had a run in with the Bloody Barron," said Flint as Tom walked into the common room.
"No, no. I'm just a bit drowsy is all," replied Tom. "Parkinson, didn't your cousin say that Malfoy bloke died?"
"I suppose so," said Patrick from behind his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
"I heard his father killed him," added Flint.
"Yes, but they never found his body; nobody knows for sure," finished Patrick. "Why?"
"I was just informed that a Malfoy escaped from Azkaban."
"No way!"
"I'm not so sure, Parkinson. He's done it before and it doesn't surprise me that he would do it again," Flint said.
"Why did he kill his son?" asked Tom.
"The way I heard it was he botched an assignment given by You-Know-Who himself. Then in order to prove his worth, You-Know-Who gave both Malfoy's a task that Draco once again, botched. Furious and scared, Lucius ordered his son's murder."
"Is that so?"
"It can't mean too much that Malfoy's broken out of Azkaban. I mean, You-Know-Who is dead," added Flint. "I mean, it's not like the Death Eaters can rein terror again. Hey, Durgan! Did you write that essay for Roundbottom?"
"It's in my bag."
"Excellent! The last thing I want is to trade Quidditch practice for one of Roundbottom's detentions."
"Oh yes. Your hands too precious to handle dragon dung without gloves?" laughed Tom, tossing him a rolled up piece of parchment from his bag.
"Funny, Durgan," scowled Flint above the laughter generated from Tom and Patrick.
"How did you manage to find out about Malfoy anyway?" asked Patrick. "It hasn't been in the Prophet and that would have made the front page."
"I heard it from the Headmistress herself."
"Did she make an announcement to all the prefects?"
"No, I was the only one," smirked Tom.
"Well, we should all look out for McGonagall's wonder-boy now," joked Flint; Tom holding his head a little higher than usual.
**********************************
Dear Harry,
I am unable to disclose much information in this letter, but I hoped you would consent to a meeting tomorrow morning at nine o'clock with McGonagall and I at Hogwarts. I think we have some pertinent information that may be of use to your investigation. Please send your reply with this owl.
Sincerely yours,
Remus Lupin
Harry read the piece of parchment once more after sending his response by Lupin's barn owl. ‘I wonder what this is all about’, thought Harry.
"Harry, it’s after midnight. Is there anything the matter?"
"I just have a lot on my mind, Ginny. Am I disturbing you?" asked Harry, looking up from his letter to see his wife standing in the doorway.
"No, I was just worried; you never came to bed; what’s on your mind, dear?" Ginny asked, taking a seat opposite Harry in front of the warm fire.
"Just work. All I'm finding are dead ends; I have no leads and the Minister is on my back about finding them."
"What do you think all this could mean, Harry?"
"No idea," sighed Harry, welcoming a warm embrace from his loving wife. "Voldemort's dead, so it's not like they are acting on his orders. If it was just Avery, I don't think I'd worry too much. The Dark Mark makes them all go mad eventually, but Malfoy always had a reason for his actions. It's beyond insanity."
"What do you suspect?"
"I don't know, but I have a feeling it's nothing good," replied Harry grimly.
Gently patting Harry on the back, Ginny said, "Well, Harry, there's nothing more you can do tonight. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
"You go ahead, dear, I'll be right there." Harry gave Ginny a kiss on her forehead and watched her leave the den. Taking a final glance at his letter, Harry tucked it inside his pocket, blew out the lantern, and went to bed.
************
As rays of warmth sneaked through a gap in the curtains over the windows, four small green eyes peered into the face of a still Harry Potter. Awaking with a start, little Lillian and Sirius James began to giggle loudly.
"What are you two doing up so early?" asked Harry, reaching across the bedside table for his glasses.
"Daddy, you talk in your sleep," giggled Lillian.
"I'm hungry!"
"And I'm thirsty!"
"Shhh. Best not wake your mum," whispered Harry, getting up from bed. After a quick stretch, he followed the twins into the kitchen. "So what's it going to be? Porridge? Eggs and toast?"
"Leprechaun Nuggets!"
"Leprechaun Nuggets!"
"Leprechaun Nuggets!" chanted the twins in unison.
"Leprechaun Nuggets it is then," laughed Harry, reaching into the cupboard for two bowls and the box of cereal. Pouring milk into the cereal with his wand, Harry gave each child their breakfast. "Here you go."
"Lillian got more than me!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not, Sirius James!" shouted Lillian, sticking out her tongue at her brother.
"Quiet! We don't want to wake... Good morning, Ginny."
"What are you two fighting about now?" yawned Ginny, kissing her children as she entered the kitchen.
"Lillian got more Leprechaun Nuggets then me!"
"Did not!"
"Enough!" exclaimed Harry. "You both got the same!"
"Harry, did you make coffee?"
"Here you go, dear." With a wave of his wand, a seaming pot of coffee appeared on the table along with two mugs, a sugar bowl and cream.
"Thanks," smiled Ginny, preparing each of them a cup.
Sitting down next to his wife, Harry took a sip of his hot beverage, and began eating his own serving of the children's cereal. Laughing, Ginny asked, "Aren't we a bit too old for Leprechaun Nuggets?"
"Iss 'ood."
"You're just as bad as Ron."
"You know, I haven't spoken to Ron or Hermione in a few days. Would you send for them tonight? I'd like to talk to them about... er..."
"As a matter of fact, they will be here for dinner tonight."
"Excellent!"
"What time do you leave today?"
"I have a meeting at nine o'clock."
Glancing at the clock, Ginny said, "Harry, you best get a move on; it's eight-thirty."
"What..." Harry sped out of the kitchen to quickly get himself ready for his meeting with Lupin.
Reappearing in the kitchen a few minutes later with his glasses askew and hair wet, Harry kissed his family goodbye and apparated just outside of Hogwarts.
"Good morning, Harry. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice," smiled Remus Lupin.
"Any time," replied Harry, taking in the sight of the castle he once made his home. "I see Hogwarts hasn't changed much."
"No, same old, magnificent castle."
"So, Lupin, what's this all about?"
"It's best we not discuss it just yet. Shall we?" he said, ushering Harry inside the castle and up to Minerva McGonagall's office.
"Potter! It's been too long!" smiled McGonagall. Harry could have sworn he saw her eyes begin to glisten until he looked up at the portrait behind the large desk in the centre of the room.
"Hello, Harry," smiled the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. "I hope I am finding you well."
"Yes, Professor," answered Harry in a raspy voice not belonging to him.
"Harry, I think you may want to sit before you hear what we are about to tell you," suggested Lupin.
Clearing his throat, Harry asked, "So what is this all about?"
"Potter, first, I think you should know something. Now, this may come to you as a shock, but..."
"But it is certain that my tomb has been disturbed," interrupted Dumbledore.
"What do you mean, disturbed?"
"Opened, Harry, to our knowledge, it has been opened twice."
"Whe…"
"The first time was at the end of last school year. And again, we found it in disarray early this term," explained McGonagall. "I also think you should know we've had a few visitors."
"Trespassers, you mean?"
"Exactly...."
"Malfoy?"
"Harry, we don't want to jump to conclusions, but I think it may be possible that someone is working for him," added Lupin.
"But what would he be after?"
Lupin, McGonagall, and Dumbledore all exchanged grave expressions, and returned their attention to Harry.
"Harry, I have heard rumours from other portraits and the school ghosts, that there is a map," said Dumbledore.
"A map of what?"
"Rumour has it Slytherin created a map of all his secrets. One that we think is a tunnel under the very spot my tomb rests above. It's never been found before, of course, but..."
"But, we do know that the last known owner of this map was Voldemort," finished Lupin.
"You don't think..."
"That, Harry remains to be seen," Dumbledore said. "It is in my belief he has left instructions for his Death Eaters in the case of his death."
The news produced a heavy silence that filled the round office. Harry's head spinning, he jumped at the sound of a knock on the door.
I wonder who that could be at the door... hmmm...
Anyhoo, question, comments and criticisms here please.
Here goes chapter 12"Durgan! You look like you had a run in with the Bloody Barron," said Flint as Tom walked into the common room.
"No, no. I'm just a bit drowsy is all," replied Tom. "Parkinson, didn't your cousin say that Malfoy bloke died?"
"I suppose so," said Patrick from behind his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
"I heard his father killed him," added Flint.
"Yes, but they never found his body; nobody knows for sure," finished Patrick. "Why?"
"I was just informed that a Malfoy escaped from Azkaban."
"No way!"
"I'm not so sure, Parkinson. He's done it before and it doesn't surprise me that he would do it again," Flint said.
"Why did he kill his son?" asked Tom.
"The way I heard it was he botched an assignment given by You-Know-Who himself. Then in order to prove his worth, You-Know-Who gave both Malfoy's a task that Draco once again, botched. Furious and scared, Lucius ordered his son's murder."
"Is that so?"
"It can't mean too much that Malfoy's broken out of Azkaban. I mean, You-Know-Who is dead," added Flint. "I mean, it's not like the Death Eaters can rein terror again. Hey, Durgan! Did you write that essay for Roundbottom?"
"It's in my bag."
"Excellent! The last thing I want is to trade Quidditch practice for one of Roundbottom's detentions."
"Oh yes. Your hands too precious to handle dragon dung without gloves?" laughed Tom, tossing him a rolled up piece of parchment from his bag.
"Funny, Durgan," scowled Flint above the laughter generated from Tom and Patrick.
"How did you manage to find out about Malfoy anyway?" asked Patrick. "It hasn't been in the Prophet and that would have made the front page."
"I heard it from the Headmistress herself."
"Did she make an announcement to all the prefects?"
"No, I was the only one," smirked Tom.
"Well, we should all look out for McGonagall's wonder-boy now," joked Flint; Tom holding his head a little higher than usual.
**********************************
Dear Harry,
I am unable to disclose much information in this letter, but I hoped you would consent to a meeting tomorrow morning at nine o'clock with McGonagall and I at Hogwarts. I think we have some pertinent information that may be of use to your investigation. Please send your reply with this owl.
Sincerely yours,
Remus Lupin
Harry read the piece of parchment once more after sending his response by Lupin's barn owl. ‘I wonder what this is all about’, thought Harry.
"Harry, it’s after midnight. Is there anything the matter?"
"I just have a lot on my mind, Ginny. Am I disturbing you?" asked Harry, looking up from his letter to see his wife standing in the doorway.
"No, I was just worried; you never came to bed; what’s on your mind, dear?" Ginny asked, taking a seat opposite Harry in front of the warm fire.
"Just work. All I'm finding are dead ends; I have no leads and the Minister is on my back about finding them."
"What do you think all this could mean, Harry?"
"No idea," sighed Harry, welcoming a warm embrace from his loving wife. "Voldemort's dead, so it's not like they are acting on his orders. If it was just Avery, I don't think I'd worry too much. The Dark Mark makes them all go mad eventually, but Malfoy always had a reason for his actions. It's beyond insanity."
"What do you suspect?"
"I don't know, but I have a feeling it's nothing good," replied Harry grimly.
Gently patting Harry on the back, Ginny said, "Well, Harry, there's nothing more you can do tonight. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
"You go ahead, dear, I'll be right there." Harry gave Ginny a kiss on her forehead and watched her leave the den. Taking a final glance at his letter, Harry tucked it inside his pocket, blew out the lantern, and went to bed.
************
As rays of warmth sneaked through a gap in the curtains over the windows, four small green eyes peered into the face of a still Harry Potter. Awaking with a start, little Lillian and Sirius James began to giggle loudly.
"What are you two doing up so early?" asked Harry, reaching across the bedside table for his glasses.
"Daddy, you talk in your sleep," giggled Lillian.
"I'm hungry!"
"And I'm thirsty!"
"Shhh. Best not wake your mum," whispered Harry, getting up from bed. After a quick stretch, he followed the twins into the kitchen. "So what's it going to be? Porridge? Eggs and toast?"
"Leprechaun Nuggets!"
"Leprechaun Nuggets!"
"Leprechaun Nuggets!" chanted the twins in unison.
"Leprechaun Nuggets it is then," laughed Harry, reaching into the cupboard for two bowls and the box of cereal. Pouring milk into the cereal with his wand, Harry gave each child their breakfast. "Here you go."
"Lillian got more than me!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not, Sirius James!" shouted Lillian, sticking out her tongue at her brother.
"Quiet! We don't want to wake... Good morning, Ginny."
"What are you two fighting about now?" yawned Ginny, kissing her children as she entered the kitchen.
"Lillian got more Leprechaun Nuggets then me!"
"Did not!"
"Enough!" exclaimed Harry. "You both got the same!"
"Harry, did you make coffee?"
"Here you go, dear." With a wave of his wand, a seaming pot of coffee appeared on the table along with two mugs, a sugar bowl and cream.
"Thanks," smiled Ginny, preparing each of them a cup.
Sitting down next to his wife, Harry took a sip of his hot beverage, and began eating his own serving of the children's cereal. Laughing, Ginny asked, "Aren't we a bit too old for Leprechaun Nuggets?"
"Iss 'ood."
"You're just as bad as Ron."
"You know, I haven't spoken to Ron or Hermione in a few days. Would you send for them tonight? I'd like to talk to them about... er..."
"As a matter of fact, they will be here for dinner tonight."
"Excellent!"
"What time do you leave today?"
"I have a meeting at nine o'clock."
Glancing at the clock, Ginny said, "Harry, you best get a move on; it's eight-thirty."
"What..." Harry sped out of the kitchen to quickly get himself ready for his meeting with Lupin.
Reappearing in the kitchen a few minutes later with his glasses askew and hair wet, Harry kissed his family goodbye and apparated just outside of Hogwarts.
"Good morning, Harry. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice," smiled Remus Lupin.
"Any time," replied Harry, taking in the sight of the castle he once made his home. "I see Hogwarts hasn't changed much."
"No, same old, magnificent castle."
"So, Lupin, what's this all about?"
"It's best we not discuss it just yet. Shall we?" he said, ushering Harry inside the castle and up to Minerva McGonagall's office.
"Potter! It's been too long!" smiled McGonagall. Harry could have sworn he saw her eyes begin to glisten until he looked up at the portrait behind the large desk in the centre of the room.
"Hello, Harry," smiled the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. "I hope I am finding you well."
"Yes, Professor," answered Harry in a raspy voice not belonging to him.
"Harry, I think you may want to sit before you hear what we are about to tell you," suggested Lupin.
Clearing his throat, Harry asked, "So what is this all about?"
"Potter, first, I think you should know something. Now, this may come to you as a shock, but..."
"But it is certain that my tomb has been disturbed," interrupted Dumbledore.
"What do you mean, disturbed?"
"Opened, Harry, to our knowledge, it has been opened twice."
"Whe…"
"The first time was at the end of last school year. And again, we found it in disarray early this term," explained McGonagall. "I also think you should know we've had a few visitors."
"Trespassers, you mean?"
"Exactly...."
"Malfoy?"
"Harry, we don't want to jump to conclusions, but I think it may be possible that someone is working for him," added Lupin.
"But what would he be after?"
Lupin, McGonagall, and Dumbledore all exchanged grave expressions, and returned their attention to Harry.
"Harry, I have heard rumours from other portraits and the school ghosts, that there is a map," said Dumbledore.
"A map of what?"
"Rumour has it Slytherin created a map of all his secrets. One that we think is a tunnel under the very spot my tomb rests above. It's never been found before, of course, but..."
"But, we do know that the last known owner of this map was Voldemort," finished Lupin.
"You don't think..."
"That, Harry remains to be seen," Dumbledore said. "It is in my belief he has left instructions for his Death Eaters in the case of his death."
The news produced a heavy silence that filled the round office. Harry's head spinning, he jumped at the sound of a knock on the door.
I wonder who that could be at the door... hmmm...
Anyhoo, question, comments and criticisms here please.
Well, I found a good breaking point for this chapter... so here goes.
Thanks for being so patient!
Chapter 13:
The office door burst open, startling everyone inside; the portraits that hung on the walls seemed to jump. Neville Longbottom ran into the office. “Professor McGonagall!”
Minerva McGonagall, nearly angry and alarmed, demanded, “What is the meaning…”
“Professor,” Neville panted, “please… emergency… Hagrid… the Forest… hurry!”
Harry charged out of the office and ran towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, wand at the ready.
Taking in his surroundings, Harry heard the familiar howls of an elderly Fang a fair distance away. Running a few meters inside the Forest, Harry saw three men draped in black robes with masks covering their faces. Harry knew at once that two of the men were Lucius Malfoy and Avery. A shout from one of the suspected escaped Death Eaters confirmed Harry’s instinct.
“Imperio!” yelled Lucius Malfoy, as Hagrid knocked the third, unknown man to the ground.
“Ye think that ‘ill do, Malfoy?”
“Avery! Together.”
“Imperio!” Both Death Eaters yelled with force.
“Hagrid! Look out!” screamed Harry, causing Hagrid to avoid the Imperious Curse.
“Well, well, Mr. Potter has come out to play,” Malfoy said coolly.
“This is playtime for you, is it?” Harry demanded to know. “What are you doing at Hogwarts?”
“That, Mr. Potter, is not your concern. Avery!” Malfoy snapped his fingers, and Avery raised his wand and yelled, “Avada Kedavra!”
Harry waved his own wand at that very moment and a nearby tree uprooted itself and positioning itself directly in front of Harry, absorbing the green flash and bursting into flames. “Do you really think I didn’t see that coming?” Harry laughed. “Looks like Azkaban made you a bit soft.”
Furious, Malfoy raised his wand and began to yell, “Avada.”
Harry was ready for that too; with a second wave of his wand, Malfoy was thrown about 30 meters in the air to land against a tree that began to wrap its branches around him, holding him prisoner. Avery attempted a Cruciatus Curse but met the same fate as his fellow Death Eater.
“Hagrid! Are you okay?”
“It takes more than that to finish me off, Harry,” replied Hagrid, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
“Harry!” called Lupin, appearing in the Forest. “We saw the smoke…” he broke off, taking notice of the two men held by trees and the third man lying unconscious on the ground. “I see you handled the situation.” Lupin nodded to Harry, then to Hagrid, “Hagrid…”
“Don’ worry ‘bout me. I’m all right.”
“Good,” Lupin said as he patted his friend on the arm. Returning his attention to the masked men, Lupin asked, “Do you mind telling me what you are doing here?”
“As I was telling Potter, my business is not your concern,” Malfoy spat.
“Is that so,” said an irate Professor McGonagall, with Neville by her side. “It is my concern to know what business you have at my school.”
“Yes, Headmistress,” Malfoy stated, “I suggest you all keep out of my way, or suffer the children.”
Before anyone could respond, the two trees exploded; sending splinters of wood in every direction. In the blink of an eye Malfoy grabbed the unconscious accomplice, and the three men disappeared.
Harry swore loudly as fury took hold of him. “I thought you couldn’t Apparate on school grounds?”
“You can’t,” offered Neville. “But the Forest, well, it’s unprotected.”
”What?”
“I’m afraid the Anti-Apparation jinx only extends to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. That’s another reason it’s out of bounds,” added Professor McGonagall.
“Most wouldn’t brave the creatures that reside here, but as we learned today, the school is not safe.”
“I need to alert the Auror Department,” said Harry, a look of cold determination and anger upon his face. “I want guards placed along the edge of the Forest, and I think a meeting with the staff will be in order.”
“Come on, Harry,” said Neville. “My office is closest; you can use the fire there.”
“I’ll arrange for the meeting,” responded McGonagall. “I feel it is best we address the entire school, however. Twenty minutes in the Great Hall.”
The three of them left the Forest without another word, leaving Lupin and Hagrid behind.
*****
Across from the door of Greenhouse Three, a patch of ivy covered the castle wall, hiding a tiny door. Neville whispered the password and ushered Harry inside. Neville’s quarters were modest in size, with a small bed and side table along one corner, partially hidden behind an old painted screen. Various potted plants, including Neville’s prized Mimbulus Mimbletonia, were scattered over the entire space. The fireplace was located behind an old roll top desk given to Neville by his grandmother. On top of the mantle were several moving photographs. Looking around, Harry recognized the picture from his wedding to Ginny. Harry smiled and continued looking at Neville’s photographs. Some were from their own school days here at Hogwarts, and others were of their journey into adulthood. The final photograph left knots in his core as Harry saw the bright blue eyes of Luna Lovegood staring back at him, waving enthusiastically.
“Its okay, Harry,” said Neville, walking over to Harry. “Nobody blames you. And I know Luna would never.”
“I…”
“No, Harry. Really...”
Swallowing hard, Harry nodded and took a pinch of floo powder from a satchel that hung on the wall next to Neville and watched the flames turn emerald green. Sticking his head inside, Harry said, “The Auror Department.” As images of fireplaces zoomed by, Harry closed his eyes and waited for it to stop. As soon as it did, Dawlish dropped his quill at the unexpected presence of Harry’s head in his fire.
“Harry?” asked Dawlish. “You gave me quite a turn.”
“Dawlish! I’m at Hogwarts. Malfoy and Avery were just here, but they managed to escape,” said Harry in a hurry.
“They were at Hogwarts? But why?”
“I don’t know, but the school may not be safe.”
“So much for keeping this quiet, Scrimgeour will have my wand for this…”
“Are you listening to me?” Harry growled. “I don’t care about Scrimgeour! Hogwarts is not safe. You need to put out an alert! I want Aurors on guard…”
“Yes, yes, yes, in Hogsmeade,” said Dawlish.
“No! On the school grounds; the edge of the Forbidden Forest.”
“But…”
“The school is not safe!” Without another word, Harry was gone.
Turning away from the fire, Dawlish came face to face with the Minister of Magic.
“I cannot allow Aurors to guard the school,” Scrimgeour said blankly.
“But, Sir, Hogwarts…”
“If Aurors are sent to Hogwarts, the entire wizarding community will know about Malfoy and Avery. I will not allow this to happen.”
“But, surely…”
“My word is final, Dawlish!” roared Scrimgeour before limping out of the room.
******
Brushing soot out of his messy black hair, Harry thanked Neville for the use of his fire.
“Any time, Harry.”
“I expect we should get a move on if we want to get to the Great Hall,” said Harry, walking over to the door they entered.
Neville began to laugh as he said, “Harry, follow me.”
Neville tapped a blank spot on the wall with his wand to reveal a door.
“Where does this go?” asked Harry, following his friend through the door.
“Well, each of the teacher’s quarters and offices have secret passages through the castle. I can access any common room, classroom, and office, other than McGonagall’s of course, through this door,” explained Neville.
“This would have come in handy during our school days.”
“Yes, but students are unaware of them.”
“Are you sure?” asked Harry, remembering the countless shortcuts and secret passages he discovered while a student.
“Pretty sure,” shrugged Neville as they continued to walk down the narrow corridor. “Here we are; the Great Hall.”
To the right lay a large door with gold letters etched into the grain of the wood. Opening it slightly, Neville and Harry appeared at the entrance and seemed to be able to blend into the crowd of students and staff entering the Great Hall.
Tom Durgan, already seated in his usual spot near the head of the Slytherin table, immediately cast his eyes on the lightening bolt scar and took note of the exact location he and his Herbology teacher appeared. With a slight smirk, Tom drew his attention to the staff table as teachers took their seats, looks of bewilderment upon their faces. Filch, who was placing two additional chairs along the table, looked as sullen as ever. Muttering something under his breath, Tom was only able to make out the words “Mrs. Norris,” and “Potter” from reading his lips.
After a few moments, the staff and students were all seated. Professor McGonagall stood at the podium to speak. “I would first like to apologize for this interruption of daily activities…”
As the Headmistress addressed the school, Harry scanned the Great Hall, his eyes meeting those belonging to Tom Durgan. Out of nowhere, a burning sensation could be felt along his scar. Unsure of how, or even why, Harry did not trust this boy. He looks just like… Harry’s thoughts were disrupted when Neville nudged him in the ribs.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall, apparently finished with her own speech, the sound of applause filling the Great Hall.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you, Professor,” said Harry, taking the podium to speak to the school.
“Thank you,” he said again and the room grew quiet. “This morning your school experienced a grave threat to the safety and well being of its students… er… you lot. Two escaped Azkaban prisoners entered the school grounds by means of the Forbidden Forest. It is crucial that not a single one of you enter the Forest at any time, for any reason. The Ministry of Magic is working to ensure your safety and the recapture of these prisoners. If you witness any suspicious activity, inform Professor McGonagall at once! Thank you all,” finished Harry, stepping aside to allow McGonagall to make her final announcement.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she said with a nod to Harry. “I wish to thank you all in advance for your cooperation with this matter. Classes for the remainder of the day are hereby cancelled and will resume tomorrow morning. You are to remain in you common rooms and will be escorted to meals here in the Great Hall by your Head of House. That is all.”
The students broke out in applause as many of them cheered. A buzz of conversation broke out as students compared stories of strange incidents they felt could be related to the day’s events. Others tried to guess the identity of the escaped prisoners and what they would want at Hogwarts.
At the Slytherin table, Flint cheered loudly, “Who ever those two men were, remind me to thank them!”
“No Herbology with Roundbottom,” added Celia Burke, laughing to the point of tears.
Tom, who was not laughing, sat watching Harry and the strange man he saw here at school previously. The image of his map came to mind as he made eye contact with Harry Potter once more. Tom suddenly felt the need to return to his dormitory at once.
Please leave your comments and what not here please.
Thanks for being so patient!
Chapter 13:
The office door burst open, startling everyone inside; the portraits that hung on the walls seemed to jump. Neville Longbottom ran into the office. “Professor McGonagall!”
Minerva McGonagall, nearly angry and alarmed, demanded, “What is the meaning…”
“Professor,” Neville panted, “please… emergency… Hagrid… the Forest… hurry!”
Harry charged out of the office and ran towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, wand at the ready.
Taking in his surroundings, Harry heard the familiar howls of an elderly Fang a fair distance away. Running a few meters inside the Forest, Harry saw three men draped in black robes with masks covering their faces. Harry knew at once that two of the men were Lucius Malfoy and Avery. A shout from one of the suspected escaped Death Eaters confirmed Harry’s instinct.
“Imperio!” yelled Lucius Malfoy, as Hagrid knocked the third, unknown man to the ground.
“Ye think that ‘ill do, Malfoy?”
“Avery! Together.”
“Imperio!” Both Death Eaters yelled with force.
“Hagrid! Look out!” screamed Harry, causing Hagrid to avoid the Imperious Curse.
“Well, well, Mr. Potter has come out to play,” Malfoy said coolly.
“This is playtime for you, is it?” Harry demanded to know. “What are you doing at Hogwarts?”
“That, Mr. Potter, is not your concern. Avery!” Malfoy snapped his fingers, and Avery raised his wand and yelled, “Avada Kedavra!”
Harry waved his own wand at that very moment and a nearby tree uprooted itself and positioning itself directly in front of Harry, absorbing the green flash and bursting into flames. “Do you really think I didn’t see that coming?” Harry laughed. “Looks like Azkaban made you a bit soft.”
Furious, Malfoy raised his wand and began to yell, “Avada.”
Harry was ready for that too; with a second wave of his wand, Malfoy was thrown about 30 meters in the air to land against a tree that began to wrap its branches around him, holding him prisoner. Avery attempted a Cruciatus Curse but met the same fate as his fellow Death Eater.
“Hagrid! Are you okay?”
“It takes more than that to finish me off, Harry,” replied Hagrid, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
“Harry!” called Lupin, appearing in the Forest. “We saw the smoke…” he broke off, taking notice of the two men held by trees and the third man lying unconscious on the ground. “I see you handled the situation.” Lupin nodded to Harry, then to Hagrid, “Hagrid…”
“Don’ worry ‘bout me. I’m all right.”
“Good,” Lupin said as he patted his friend on the arm. Returning his attention to the masked men, Lupin asked, “Do you mind telling me what you are doing here?”
“As I was telling Potter, my business is not your concern,” Malfoy spat.
“Is that so,” said an irate Professor McGonagall, with Neville by her side. “It is my concern to know what business you have at my school.”
“Yes, Headmistress,” Malfoy stated, “I suggest you all keep out of my way, or suffer the children.”
Before anyone could respond, the two trees exploded; sending splinters of wood in every direction. In the blink of an eye Malfoy grabbed the unconscious accomplice, and the three men disappeared.
Harry swore loudly as fury took hold of him. “I thought you couldn’t Apparate on school grounds?”
“You can’t,” offered Neville. “But the Forest, well, it’s unprotected.”
”What?”
“I’m afraid the Anti-Apparation jinx only extends to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. That’s another reason it’s out of bounds,” added Professor McGonagall.
“Most wouldn’t brave the creatures that reside here, but as we learned today, the school is not safe.”
“I need to alert the Auror Department,” said Harry, a look of cold determination and anger upon his face. “I want guards placed along the edge of the Forest, and I think a meeting with the staff will be in order.”
“Come on, Harry,” said Neville. “My office is closest; you can use the fire there.”
“I’ll arrange for the meeting,” responded McGonagall. “I feel it is best we address the entire school, however. Twenty minutes in the Great Hall.”
The three of them left the Forest without another word, leaving Lupin and Hagrid behind.
*****
Across from the door of Greenhouse Three, a patch of ivy covered the castle wall, hiding a tiny door. Neville whispered the password and ushered Harry inside. Neville’s quarters were modest in size, with a small bed and side table along one corner, partially hidden behind an old painted screen. Various potted plants, including Neville’s prized Mimbulus Mimbletonia, were scattered over the entire space. The fireplace was located behind an old roll top desk given to Neville by his grandmother. On top of the mantle were several moving photographs. Looking around, Harry recognized the picture from his wedding to Ginny. Harry smiled and continued looking at Neville’s photographs. Some were from their own school days here at Hogwarts, and others were of their journey into adulthood. The final photograph left knots in his core as Harry saw the bright blue eyes of Luna Lovegood staring back at him, waving enthusiastically.
“Its okay, Harry,” said Neville, walking over to Harry. “Nobody blames you. And I know Luna would never.”
“I…”
“No, Harry. Really...”
Swallowing hard, Harry nodded and took a pinch of floo powder from a satchel that hung on the wall next to Neville and watched the flames turn emerald green. Sticking his head inside, Harry said, “The Auror Department.” As images of fireplaces zoomed by, Harry closed his eyes and waited for it to stop. As soon as it did, Dawlish dropped his quill at the unexpected presence of Harry’s head in his fire.
“Harry?” asked Dawlish. “You gave me quite a turn.”
“Dawlish! I’m at Hogwarts. Malfoy and Avery were just here, but they managed to escape,” said Harry in a hurry.
“They were at Hogwarts? But why?”
“I don’t know, but the school may not be safe.”
“So much for keeping this quiet, Scrimgeour will have my wand for this…”
“Are you listening to me?” Harry growled. “I don’t care about Scrimgeour! Hogwarts is not safe. You need to put out an alert! I want Aurors on guard…”
“Yes, yes, yes, in Hogsmeade,” said Dawlish.
“No! On the school grounds; the edge of the Forbidden Forest.”
“But…”
“The school is not safe!” Without another word, Harry was gone.
Turning away from the fire, Dawlish came face to face with the Minister of Magic.
“I cannot allow Aurors to guard the school,” Scrimgeour said blankly.
“But, Sir, Hogwarts…”
“If Aurors are sent to Hogwarts, the entire wizarding community will know about Malfoy and Avery. I will not allow this to happen.”
“But, surely…”
“My word is final, Dawlish!” roared Scrimgeour before limping out of the room.
******
Brushing soot out of his messy black hair, Harry thanked Neville for the use of his fire.
“Any time, Harry.”
“I expect we should get a move on if we want to get to the Great Hall,” said Harry, walking over to the door they entered.
Neville began to laugh as he said, “Harry, follow me.”
Neville tapped a blank spot on the wall with his wand to reveal a door.
“Where does this go?” asked Harry, following his friend through the door.
“Well, each of the teacher’s quarters and offices have secret passages through the castle. I can access any common room, classroom, and office, other than McGonagall’s of course, through this door,” explained Neville.
“This would have come in handy during our school days.”
“Yes, but students are unaware of them.”
“Are you sure?” asked Harry, remembering the countless shortcuts and secret passages he discovered while a student.
“Pretty sure,” shrugged Neville as they continued to walk down the narrow corridor. “Here we are; the Great Hall.”
To the right lay a large door with gold letters etched into the grain of the wood. Opening it slightly, Neville and Harry appeared at the entrance and seemed to be able to blend into the crowd of students and staff entering the Great Hall.
Tom Durgan, already seated in his usual spot near the head of the Slytherin table, immediately cast his eyes on the lightening bolt scar and took note of the exact location he and his Herbology teacher appeared. With a slight smirk, Tom drew his attention to the staff table as teachers took their seats, looks of bewilderment upon their faces. Filch, who was placing two additional chairs along the table, looked as sullen as ever. Muttering something under his breath, Tom was only able to make out the words “Mrs. Norris,” and “Potter” from reading his lips.
After a few moments, the staff and students were all seated. Professor McGonagall stood at the podium to speak. “I would first like to apologize for this interruption of daily activities…”
As the Headmistress addressed the school, Harry scanned the Great Hall, his eyes meeting those belonging to Tom Durgan. Out of nowhere, a burning sensation could be felt along his scar. Unsure of how, or even why, Harry did not trust this boy. He looks just like… Harry’s thoughts were disrupted when Neville nudged him in the ribs.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall, apparently finished with her own speech, the sound of applause filling the Great Hall.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you, Professor,” said Harry, taking the podium to speak to the school.
“Thank you,” he said again and the room grew quiet. “This morning your school experienced a grave threat to the safety and well being of its students… er… you lot. Two escaped Azkaban prisoners entered the school grounds by means of the Forbidden Forest. It is crucial that not a single one of you enter the Forest at any time, for any reason. The Ministry of Magic is working to ensure your safety and the recapture of these prisoners. If you witness any suspicious activity, inform Professor McGonagall at once! Thank you all,” finished Harry, stepping aside to allow McGonagall to make her final announcement.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she said with a nod to Harry. “I wish to thank you all in advance for your cooperation with this matter. Classes for the remainder of the day are hereby cancelled and will resume tomorrow morning. You are to remain in you common rooms and will be escorted to meals here in the Great Hall by your Head of House. That is all.”
The students broke out in applause as many of them cheered. A buzz of conversation broke out as students compared stories of strange incidents they felt could be related to the day’s events. Others tried to guess the identity of the escaped prisoners and what they would want at Hogwarts.
At the Slytherin table, Flint cheered loudly, “Who ever those two men were, remind me to thank them!”
“No Herbology with Roundbottom,” added Celia Burke, laughing to the point of tears.
Tom, who was not laughing, sat watching Harry and the strange man he saw here at school previously. The image of his map came to mind as he made eye contact with Harry Potter once more. Tom suddenly felt the need to return to his dormitory at once.
Please leave your comments and what not here please.
Hey everyone! Well I have chapter 14 all set. Here goes....
Chapter 14
Tom Durgan rummaged through his trunk in search of the ancient roll of parchment. Finding it underneath several books and pairs of socks, Tom gently unrolled it and placed it on his mahogany bed. I wonder why anyone would want this; it doesn't even work. Tapping the map with his wand, it remained blank. Opening his bag to retrieve a spell book, Tom's fingers grasped the old, tattered slip of parchment he found in the Room of Requirement. Unfolding it carefully, Tom read it once more.
If ye seek truth, then I am the key,
I am the legend of the walls ye be.
What could it possibly mean? Tom asked himself. I am the key... I am the legend... who wrote this?
Tom began to pace, deep in thought. "Wait a minute!" he said aloud. "If this is indeed Slytherin's map, every map has a legend, or a key. I am the key... I am the legend... this is it! I can finally make the map work!" Taking out his wand once more, Tom tapped the slip of parchment and muttered something in Parseltongue. A second message appeared instantly.
Your past attempts did not work,
Into the Forest you must lurk.
Look for a vine that has a third thorn,
Next a shed of unicorn horn.
Into the cauldron with powdered lion fish spine,
Brew with a dash of elf-made wine.
A drop of snake venom, any will do,
Stir clockwise once, then counter two.
Add a scarab beetle, but only its head;
Your potion should now be a deep shade of red.
Drop in the map and let it drown;
Let it simmer till the moon comes round.
Chop a dandelion and make it square,
Remember to add a strand of your hair.
It should now be dark and smell of leather,
You should now drop in a jobberknoll feather.
If a blue mist is in your sight,
Well done! You've done it right.
Take out the map and let it dry,
My secrets I will reveal, I do not lie.
But if the mist is brown, you're of dirty blood;
Prepare to die as the room will flood.
This is quite a potion, Tom thought, re-reading the scribbled parchment. "Looks like I'll be planning a trip to the Forbidden Forest. But how do I work this out without being discovered?"
Deciding to begin his adventure the next night, Tom carefully placed the map back into his trunk, folded the key and tucked it into his pocket to venture into the busy common room.
"Durgan, don't tell me you've been napping!" Flint called.
Instantly deciding that was a good cover for his solitude, Tom stifled a false yawn and replied, "Shut it, Flint!"
"I'm so bored," said Celia Burke. "Why do we have to stay in the common room? I mean, those men left."
"Professor McGonagall says..."
"Patrick, do you really believe that the school's unsafe?" Celia interrupted.
Taking a moment to think, Patrick gasped, "Tom, didn't you say McGonagall told you about the escaped Death Eaters?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Well, don't you think it's possible that the prisoners they told us about, that were here at Hogwarts, were the Death Eaters?"
"What would two Death Eaters want here?" asked Flint.
"A map," whispered Tom.
"What did you say?" asked Celia.
"Wha'?" Tom didn't realize he spoke aloud. "Oh, Nothing…"
"Do you think we'll still have grounds patrol?"
"Grounds patrol... what do you think this will do to Quidditch?"
"Flint, there's more to life than Quidditch," said Celia.
"I can't believe you just said that!" replied Flint, his hand over his heart. "Quidditch is..."
"What do you lot say we get out of here?" asked Tom.
"And go where?" asked Patrick.
"I could use a snack," interjected Flint. "Let's go to the kitchen."
"You go ahead."
"I'll take..."
"Parkinson, you can get it yourself."
"Let's go," said Tom as he and Flint sneaked out of the common room.
Once up the steps away from the dungeons, Tom started tiptoeing towards the main staircase.
"I thought we were going to the kitchen."
"What if I were to tell you I think I found a secret passage within the school?"
"It goes to the kitchen?" asked Flint.
"Don't you want to find out?"
"Let's go," whispered Flint, barely able to contain his excitement as they sneaked into the Great Hall.
"It's empty," Tom whispered, part surprised, yet relived. "I just have to find the spot. Help me out Flint; look for a door behind the tapestry."
The two felt their way until Flint discovered a smooth brass doorknob.
"I think I found it," he said excitedly. "It's stuck though."
"Let me try," said Tom, taking his wand out. "Alohamora," he said and to his surprise, the door opened. "That was too easy. Shall we see where this leads us?"
Tom crossed the threshold and walked a few steps down the tiny, narrow corridor, followed by Flint.
"There's a ton of doors," said Flint taking notice of nearly a dozen doors on each side, all marked with either gold or brass lettering. "Here's Professor Taft's office, and down here is the Ravenclaw common room. I thought they were in one of the towers."
Tom just shrugged and continued down the passage in search of something.
"Durgan, we just passed a door marking the library. How is this possible?"
"This passage is used by teachers," replied Tom. "Keep going."
"That would explain how Filch gets around the castle so quickly."
"In here," said Tom, opening the door to the Potions storeroom.
"This is Slughorn's private stores. What are...?”
"Shh. Just get in here and be careful not to close the door."
"Why?"
"Just in case it requires the use of a password."
"Good thinking."
The closet-sized room was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. On them lived bottles upon bottles of various potion ingredients. Some tiny, some large; some bottles contained shiny liquids and others contained various dead insects. Tom looked over the shelves until he found a small vile of snake venom. He next pocketed a scarab beetle and a jobberknoll feather. "Let's get out of here," said Tom walking back into the secret passageway.
"Durgan, what..."
"It's for a potion I want to try."
"Oh, well, can we now go to the kitchen?"
"Come on, I think it's this way." Tom pointed, and they left in search of the door to the kitchen.
"Durgan! Look!"
"It can't be... this one goes to Hogsmeade."
"The Three Broomsticks! Wicked!"
"Interesting but, Flint, not now. I'm sure there are Auror's in Hogsmeade by now after this morning's incident."
"Right."
"Here's the kitchen," Tom said opening the door.
"Young masters is not supposed to know about the secret door," bowed an old, ugly house elf by the name of Kreacher.
"How about you forget where we came from and get us something to eat."
"Yes, Sir. Kreacher is to fetch the young masters some food." Kreacher bowed again.
Minutes later about a half of a dozen elves handed Tom and Flint an assortment of eclairs, apples, a ham and fresh biscuits.
"`Fanks," said Flint through a mouthful of eclair before they retreated to the common room.
************
With a crack, Harry appeared at the Ministry of Magic. Waling across the Atrium, Harry nodded to a few passing wizards as he hurried over to the lifts. To his displeasure, the door opened to reveal Dolores Umbridge.
Her hands full of rolls of parchment, Umbridge walked out of the lift mumbling something about Squibs under her breath. Unable to resist himself, Harry called out, "Not still trying to pass discriminating pieces of legislature?"
"Mr. Potter," Umbridge breathed with an obvious sigh of annoyance. "My work for the Minister is not the business of a petty Auror."
"No. You're absolutely right, Umbridge. Just remember one thing; one usually tries to oppress those she fears the most."
Furious, Umbridge looked as if she was just slapped across the face and stormed off towards the other end of the Atrium. Harry laughed to himself and entered the empty lift.
Once at his cubicle, Harry began drafting a report to include his recommendations regarding both Hogwarts and the village of Hogsmeade. When at last he was satisfied, Harry sent the report to Dawlish with a flick of his wand. A quick stretch and yawn, he pulled out the two-way mirror from his pocket and said, "Ginny."
"Is everything all right, Harry?"
"I'm fine, Ginny dear. It's been quite a day is all," replied Harry. "How are the twins?"
"Usual, Sirius James is riding on that broom Ron gave him and Lillian is painting."
"Give them a kiss for me. Are Ron and Hermione still coming for dinner tonight?"
"Yes. They will both arrive at five o'clock."
"Excellent, I've invited Neville Longbottom to dinner as well."
"It's been ages since I've seen Neville. How is he?"
"He seems to be doing well. Ginny, dear, I'm leaving work shortly, so I'll be home soon."
"Harry, are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. We'll have loads to talk about at dinner though."
"As long as you're sure..."
"I best be going if I want to get home soon," interrupted Harry. "I love you, Ginny."
Harry closed the mirror and placed it back in his pocket. Looking over his calendar, he heard the familiar call from the Head of the Auror Department.
"You beckoned," said Harry stepping inside Dawlish's office.
"Yes, Harry. I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"What do you mean?"
"I am unfortunately unable to approve your proposal for action requested at both Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the village Hogsmeade."
"Is this your decision? Or is it Scrimgeour's?"
"He's the Minister, Harry," sighed Dawlish. "I very well can't disobey a direct order from the Minister of Magic himself."
"I see..."
"Harry..."
"No! You're putting the lives of thousands of students in jeopardy! For what? Because Scrimgeour is afraid of a tarnished reputation."
"Harry, I wish it were only that easy..."
"Fine! I'll do it all myself," Harry began to shout. "Just like with Voldemort."
"Harry," shuddered Dawlish.
"I didn't have the support from the Ministry then, why should it be different this time?"
"Harry, You-Know-Who is dead. This is different."
"No! This time we have two Death Eaters on the loose under the impression they are completing orders given by Voldemort."
Dawlish gave another involuntary jerk as he began to speak, "Harry..."
"Don't! I only have this left to say; should anything else happen, should death occur, the blood will be on your hands! And Scrimgeour's!" Harry stormed out of the office and made his way out of the Auror department. Ignoring several calls after him, Harry turned into a lift in order to go home. Harry had work to do, and once again, he only had his friends to call on for help.
Well, there you have it... let me know what you think here please.
Chapter 14
Tom Durgan rummaged through his trunk in search of the ancient roll of parchment. Finding it underneath several books and pairs of socks, Tom gently unrolled it and placed it on his mahogany bed. I wonder why anyone would want this; it doesn't even work. Tapping the map with his wand, it remained blank. Opening his bag to retrieve a spell book, Tom's fingers grasped the old, tattered slip of parchment he found in the Room of Requirement. Unfolding it carefully, Tom read it once more.
If ye seek truth, then I am the key,
I am the legend of the walls ye be.
What could it possibly mean? Tom asked himself. I am the key... I am the legend... who wrote this?
Tom began to pace, deep in thought. "Wait a minute!" he said aloud. "If this is indeed Slytherin's map, every map has a legend, or a key. I am the key... I am the legend... this is it! I can finally make the map work!" Taking out his wand once more, Tom tapped the slip of parchment and muttered something in Parseltongue. A second message appeared instantly.
Your past attempts did not work,
Into the Forest you must lurk.
Look for a vine that has a third thorn,
Next a shed of unicorn horn.
Into the cauldron with powdered lion fish spine,
Brew with a dash of elf-made wine.
A drop of snake venom, any will do,
Stir clockwise once, then counter two.
Add a scarab beetle, but only its head;
Your potion should now be a deep shade of red.
Drop in the map and let it drown;
Let it simmer till the moon comes round.
Chop a dandelion and make it square,
Remember to add a strand of your hair.
It should now be dark and smell of leather,
You should now drop in a jobberknoll feather.
If a blue mist is in your sight,
Well done! You've done it right.
Take out the map and let it dry,
My secrets I will reveal, I do not lie.
But if the mist is brown, you're of dirty blood;
Prepare to die as the room will flood.
This is quite a potion, Tom thought, re-reading the scribbled parchment. "Looks like I'll be planning a trip to the Forbidden Forest. But how do I work this out without being discovered?"
Deciding to begin his adventure the next night, Tom carefully placed the map back into his trunk, folded the key and tucked it into his pocket to venture into the busy common room.
"Durgan, don't tell me you've been napping!" Flint called.
Instantly deciding that was a good cover for his solitude, Tom stifled a false yawn and replied, "Shut it, Flint!"
"I'm so bored," said Celia Burke. "Why do we have to stay in the common room? I mean, those men left."
"Professor McGonagall says..."
"Patrick, do you really believe that the school's unsafe?" Celia interrupted.
Taking a moment to think, Patrick gasped, "Tom, didn't you say McGonagall told you about the escaped Death Eaters?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Well, don't you think it's possible that the prisoners they told us about, that were here at Hogwarts, were the Death Eaters?"
"What would two Death Eaters want here?" asked Flint.
"A map," whispered Tom.
"What did you say?" asked Celia.
"Wha'?" Tom didn't realize he spoke aloud. "Oh, Nothing…"
"Do you think we'll still have grounds patrol?"
"Grounds patrol... what do you think this will do to Quidditch?"
"Flint, there's more to life than Quidditch," said Celia.
"I can't believe you just said that!" replied Flint, his hand over his heart. "Quidditch is..."
"What do you lot say we get out of here?" asked Tom.
"And go where?" asked Patrick.
"I could use a snack," interjected Flint. "Let's go to the kitchen."
"You go ahead."
"I'll take..."
"Parkinson, you can get it yourself."
"Let's go," said Tom as he and Flint sneaked out of the common room.
Once up the steps away from the dungeons, Tom started tiptoeing towards the main staircase.
"I thought we were going to the kitchen."
"What if I were to tell you I think I found a secret passage within the school?"
"It goes to the kitchen?" asked Flint.
"Don't you want to find out?"
"Let's go," whispered Flint, barely able to contain his excitement as they sneaked into the Great Hall.
"It's empty," Tom whispered, part surprised, yet relived. "I just have to find the spot. Help me out Flint; look for a door behind the tapestry."
The two felt their way until Flint discovered a smooth brass doorknob.
"I think I found it," he said excitedly. "It's stuck though."
"Let me try," said Tom, taking his wand out. "Alohamora," he said and to his surprise, the door opened. "That was too easy. Shall we see where this leads us?"
Tom crossed the threshold and walked a few steps down the tiny, narrow corridor, followed by Flint.
"There's a ton of doors," said Flint taking notice of nearly a dozen doors on each side, all marked with either gold or brass lettering. "Here's Professor Taft's office, and down here is the Ravenclaw common room. I thought they were in one of the towers."
Tom just shrugged and continued down the passage in search of something.
"Durgan, we just passed a door marking the library. How is this possible?"
"This passage is used by teachers," replied Tom. "Keep going."
"That would explain how Filch gets around the castle so quickly."
"In here," said Tom, opening the door to the Potions storeroom.
"This is Slughorn's private stores. What are...?”
"Shh. Just get in here and be careful not to close the door."
"Why?"
"Just in case it requires the use of a password."
"Good thinking."
The closet-sized room was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. On them lived bottles upon bottles of various potion ingredients. Some tiny, some large; some bottles contained shiny liquids and others contained various dead insects. Tom looked over the shelves until he found a small vile of snake venom. He next pocketed a scarab beetle and a jobberknoll feather. "Let's get out of here," said Tom walking back into the secret passageway.
"Durgan, what..."
"It's for a potion I want to try."
"Oh, well, can we now go to the kitchen?"
"Come on, I think it's this way." Tom pointed, and they left in search of the door to the kitchen.
"Durgan! Look!"
"It can't be... this one goes to Hogsmeade."
"The Three Broomsticks! Wicked!"
"Interesting but, Flint, not now. I'm sure there are Auror's in Hogsmeade by now after this morning's incident."
"Right."
"Here's the kitchen," Tom said opening the door.
"Young masters is not supposed to know about the secret door," bowed an old, ugly house elf by the name of Kreacher.
"How about you forget where we came from and get us something to eat."
"Yes, Sir. Kreacher is to fetch the young masters some food." Kreacher bowed again.
Minutes later about a half of a dozen elves handed Tom and Flint an assortment of eclairs, apples, a ham and fresh biscuits.
"`Fanks," said Flint through a mouthful of eclair before they retreated to the common room.
************
With a crack, Harry appeared at the Ministry of Magic. Waling across the Atrium, Harry nodded to a few passing wizards as he hurried over to the lifts. To his displeasure, the door opened to reveal Dolores Umbridge.
Her hands full of rolls of parchment, Umbridge walked out of the lift mumbling something about Squibs under her breath. Unable to resist himself, Harry called out, "Not still trying to pass discriminating pieces of legislature?"
"Mr. Potter," Umbridge breathed with an obvious sigh of annoyance. "My work for the Minister is not the business of a petty Auror."
"No. You're absolutely right, Umbridge. Just remember one thing; one usually tries to oppress those she fears the most."
Furious, Umbridge looked as if she was just slapped across the face and stormed off towards the other end of the Atrium. Harry laughed to himself and entered the empty lift.
Once at his cubicle, Harry began drafting a report to include his recommendations regarding both Hogwarts and the village of Hogsmeade. When at last he was satisfied, Harry sent the report to Dawlish with a flick of his wand. A quick stretch and yawn, he pulled out the two-way mirror from his pocket and said, "Ginny."
"Is everything all right, Harry?"
"I'm fine, Ginny dear. It's been quite a day is all," replied Harry. "How are the twins?"
"Usual, Sirius James is riding on that broom Ron gave him and Lillian is painting."
"Give them a kiss for me. Are Ron and Hermione still coming for dinner tonight?"
"Yes. They will both arrive at five o'clock."
"Excellent, I've invited Neville Longbottom to dinner as well."
"It's been ages since I've seen Neville. How is he?"
"He seems to be doing well. Ginny, dear, I'm leaving work shortly, so I'll be home soon."
"Harry, are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. We'll have loads to talk about at dinner though."
"As long as you're sure..."
"I best be going if I want to get home soon," interrupted Harry. "I love you, Ginny."
Harry closed the mirror and placed it back in his pocket. Looking over his calendar, he heard the familiar call from the Head of the Auror Department.
"You beckoned," said Harry stepping inside Dawlish's office.
"Yes, Harry. I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"What do you mean?"
"I am unfortunately unable to approve your proposal for action requested at both Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the village Hogsmeade."
"Is this your decision? Or is it Scrimgeour's?"
"He's the Minister, Harry," sighed Dawlish. "I very well can't disobey a direct order from the Minister of Magic himself."
"I see..."
"Harry..."
"No! You're putting the lives of thousands of students in jeopardy! For what? Because Scrimgeour is afraid of a tarnished reputation."
"Harry, I wish it were only that easy..."
"Fine! I'll do it all myself," Harry began to shout. "Just like with Voldemort."
"Harry," shuddered Dawlish.
"I didn't have the support from the Ministry then, why should it be different this time?"
"Harry, You-Know-Who is dead. This is different."
"No! This time we have two Death Eaters on the loose under the impression they are completing orders given by Voldemort."
Dawlish gave another involuntary jerk as he began to speak, "Harry..."
"Don't! I only have this left to say; should anything else happen, should death occur, the blood will be on your hands! And Scrimgeour's!" Harry stormed out of the office and made his way out of the Auror department. Ignoring several calls after him, Harry turned into a lift in order to go home. Harry had work to do, and once again, he only had his friends to call on for help.
Well, there you have it... let me know what you think here please.
All right, all right...the next chapter is up and ready. Thanks a bunch, Caity!
Chapter 15
The warm sunlight began to fade as the room grew dark and cold. Sitting beside the unlit fireplace, he tended to his injuries, noticing a deep gash in his already crippled leg. Tapping his leg with his wand, the cut mended itself without a single scar. Another wave of his wand provided a decanter of scotch and an empty goblet. A man's drink, he thought, pouring a generous amount of the dark liquid. He felt it burn as he drained his glass. About to pour a second glass, the man saw a green flicker in the fireplace.
"Who's there? What do you want?" he asked fearfully, his head ready to burst.
A man's face appeared in the fireplace, and his pain suddenly vanished. "You have your orders. Make sure Potter does not uncover our mission. Do whatever is necessary, but do not kill him; keep your cover! I will be in touch."
The green flame disappeared, and darkness enveloped the room. A wild grimace spread over the man's face as he poured himself another drink.
***
"Harry," called Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. "You're home before Arthur. He's on his way, I expect. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Oh. Thanks," replied Harry, surprised to see Mrs. Weasley in his kitchen. "Where's Ginny?"
"I was giving Sirius James a bath," Ginny said, appearing in the doorway.
Harry hurried over to his wife and kissed her gently on the cheek. "I didn't know your parents were coming over tonight," he whispered in her ear.
"Mum just popped in today; you know her and her surprise visits. Well, I may have let it slip that Ron and Hermione were coming for dinner tonight, and the next thing I know she's going to make a stew; and Dad's coming too," Ginny explained. "So, how did it go today?"
"We'll discuss it later." Taking a quick glance behind him, Harry let out a sigh as he saw Mrs. Weasley singing along to some dreadful song playing on the WWN while chopping carrots. "How are the twins?" he asked aloud.
"Well, Lillian thought it would be funny to chase her brother on those toy brooms. Sirius got distracted and fell off his broom right into a mud puddle."
"One Lillian created, I expect."
"Exactly," growled Ginny.
Harry fought to suppress his laughter, knowing better; he simply smiled, kissed his wife once more and went to greet his children.
Up the stairs to the left was a large, colourful bedroom. Three walls a different colour and one lined with shelves from the floor to the ceiling containing various toys, story books, paints, as well as an assortment of items found at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
"Lillian Potter! Put your brother down at once!" Harry exclaimed; witnessing his son dancing in midair as his daughter directed his movements from below, Ginny's wand in her hand. Surprised, Lillian dropped the wand and yelled, "Daddy!"
Harry quickly lunged forward in order to catch his falling son.
"Dad, you'll always be there to save me, won't you?"
"Of course, Sirius James," he replied, kissing his son on the head.
"Yuck!"
"Oh. Sirius!" Harry laughed. "Now Lillian, be a good girl and put Mummy's wand back before she notices it was missing." Harry winked and patted his daughter on the head as she skipped out of the room. "So Mum tells me you fell of your broom today."
"It was Lillian's fault!"
"What do you say over the weekend, before it gets too cold, we go flying together?"
"Really?"
"Really."
"Yippee!"
"Harry, kids, dinner's ready," called Mrs. Weasley from the bottom of the stairs.
At the table, Ron and Hermione were already seated on each side of Neville Longbottom. That can't be a good sign, Harry thought, taking his own seat next to his wife and daughter. Arthur Weasley entered the kitchen muttering, "What a day. What a day," and took his seat at the head of the table.
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley called, helping him to a serving of stew. "How was work today?"
"It was a busy day. I had a meeting with Scrimegour."
"Oh. And what did Scrimegour want?" asked Harry.
"He wanted to inform me that he's cutting back a few jobs to save gold. Don't worry, Molly, my job is safe," he added, noticing a worried expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.
"Is that so?" Harry asked angrily.
"What is the matter, Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
"We have two escaped Death Eaters on the lose, and Scrimegour won't lift a bloody finger to try to stop them! They made a grand little appearance at Hogwarts today, and still, he refuses to allow aurors to guard the school."
Silence filled the room as nobody quite knew what to say exactly; most letting this new development sink in.
Neville was the first to speak, "You mean Hogwarts will be without protection?"
"No," Harry said blankly. "If I have to do it myself, I will."
"Lillian, Sirius, why don't you both go up to your room. I'll send up your dinner there," Ginny said gently to her children and watched them skip and hop out of the room.
"Harry, don't be ridiculous," said Hermione.
"She's right, mate, there's three of us, and three shifts to cover," nodded Ron.
"Four," said Neville. "There are four of us."
"No. There are five of us," corrected Ginny. "Harry, when are you going to learn that there's nothing you have to do alone?"
"Thanks, Ginny, but what about the twins?"
"Oh. Right," Ginny said, biting her lip and looking over at Mrs. Weasley.
"Very well," sighed Mrs. Weasley. "I'll watch the twins when needed."
"Thanks, Mum," Ginny replied as Mrs. Weasley waived her hand as if it were nothing.
"Harry, my department hasn't heard a word about this," Mr. Weasley added. "Who exactly escaped?"
Harry took a deep breath and swallowed hard, "Lucius Malfoy and Avery."
"But... that can't be," Arthur stated matter-of-factly. "Surely the entire Ministry would know."
"Malfoy and Avery escaping... Harry, this should have been front page of The Prophet!" said Hermione.
"I know. Scrimegour wants it kept quiet."
"What?"
"Why on heaven's earth..."
"Well, his reputation for starters. But I have a bad feeling..."
"Harry," Ron cleared his throat, "what were they doing at Hogwarts?"
"When I found them, they were trying to place the Imperious Curse on Hagrid," said Neville.
For a split second, Harry considered not telling them all he knew. Looking at their worried faces, and given the fact they were ready to help him without any other information, he decided it's best to tell them the truth. "I believe Dumbledore was buried above something they want or need for something. His tomb has already been disturbed twice before."
Her hands covering her mouth, Hermione gasped.
"Are you sure?" asked Mr. Weasley.
"Yes."
"But what could it possibly be..."
"I don't know, Ron. I just don't know."
****
Over the next several days, activities within Hogwarts were back to normal; the only exception being a small number of witches and wizards taking turns patrolling the edge of the Forbidden Forest throughout the day.
Tom gazed out the window as several of his classmates fell asleep listening to another one of Professor Binns dull lectures on the Goblin rebellion. I need to get out of here, he thought, watching the bare branches sway in the cold breeze. Getting up from his seat, Tom walked over to the window for a better look outside. A tall, lanky man with flaming red hair could be seen talking with Hagrid and his Care of Magical Creatures class. If I were to do it, now would be ideal. Tom quickly formulated a plan and went back to his desk to gather his belongings. While Professor Binns back was still turned to his sleeping class, Tom quietly left the classroom.
Hurrying down the stairs two at a time, Tom was outside within minutes. Reducing his speed, Tom strolled across school grounds careful not to attract attention from both the Greenhouses and the Care of Magical Creatures class. Standing before the Forest edge, Tom took another glance behind him and smirked as he entered the thicket of trees and branches. This was too easy, he thought as he pulled out the key from his bag.
Into the Forest you must lurk.
Look for a vine that has a third thorn,
Next a shed of unicorn horn.
Tom ventured deeper and deeper into the Forest, binding his robes tightly as it was much cooler without ample sunlight. Taking out his wand, Tom muttered "Lumos," and the tip of wand ignited, providing a steady ray of light. Tom searched for what must have been ages, examining each and every tree, bush, shrub, and vine for anything that only had three thorns. He found the unicorn horn rather quickly as these creatures often shed bits of their horns as they grow. Ready to give up, Tom turned back towards the castle. Tripping over a tree root, Tom swore loudly. As he stood up, surveying his torn robes, he took out his wand to mend them, he couldn't believe his eyes. Tom was staring at the very plant he had been searching for. "Incredible! And right at the Forest edge too; how ever did I miss it?" Pulling it up from the ground, he carefully placed it in his bag next to the unicorn horn. Mending his torn attire, Tom scurried over to the courtyard to join the rest of his fellow Slytherin’s.
"Tom! There you are!" yelled Celia Burke. "I told Professor Taft you were ill. Are you feeling well? You look flushed."
"I'm feeling quite well," smirked Tom.
"You mind telling us what you were up to?" asked Patrick Parkinson.
"Up to?" replied Tom. "I went to see Madam Pompfrey about a headache I endured during Professor Binns dreadful speech."
"Oh. All right."
"I don't remember old Binns giving a speech," added Flint, taking a bite of an apple. "Wa' speesh?"
"You were sleeping, so I don't expect you to remember anything," sighed Tom. Sometimes I can't believe my own good luck.
There you have it... feedback here please.
Chapter 15
The warm sunlight began to fade as the room grew dark and cold. Sitting beside the unlit fireplace, he tended to his injuries, noticing a deep gash in his already crippled leg. Tapping his leg with his wand, the cut mended itself without a single scar. Another wave of his wand provided a decanter of scotch and an empty goblet. A man's drink, he thought, pouring a generous amount of the dark liquid. He felt it burn as he drained his glass. About to pour a second glass, the man saw a green flicker in the fireplace.
"Who's there? What do you want?" he asked fearfully, his head ready to burst.
A man's face appeared in the fireplace, and his pain suddenly vanished. "You have your orders. Make sure Potter does not uncover our mission. Do whatever is necessary, but do not kill him; keep your cover! I will be in touch."
The green flame disappeared, and darkness enveloped the room. A wild grimace spread over the man's face as he poured himself another drink.
***
"Harry," called Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. "You're home before Arthur. He's on his way, I expect. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Oh. Thanks," replied Harry, surprised to see Mrs. Weasley in his kitchen. "Where's Ginny?"
"I was giving Sirius James a bath," Ginny said, appearing in the doorway.
Harry hurried over to his wife and kissed her gently on the cheek. "I didn't know your parents were coming over tonight," he whispered in her ear.
"Mum just popped in today; you know her and her surprise visits. Well, I may have let it slip that Ron and Hermione were coming for dinner tonight, and the next thing I know she's going to make a stew; and Dad's coming too," Ginny explained. "So, how did it go today?"
"We'll discuss it later." Taking a quick glance behind him, Harry let out a sigh as he saw Mrs. Weasley singing along to some dreadful song playing on the WWN while chopping carrots. "How are the twins?" he asked aloud.
"Well, Lillian thought it would be funny to chase her brother on those toy brooms. Sirius got distracted and fell off his broom right into a mud puddle."
"One Lillian created, I expect."
"Exactly," growled Ginny.
Harry fought to suppress his laughter, knowing better; he simply smiled, kissed his wife once more and went to greet his children.
Up the stairs to the left was a large, colourful bedroom. Three walls a different colour and one lined with shelves from the floor to the ceiling containing various toys, story books, paints, as well as an assortment of items found at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
"Lillian Potter! Put your brother down at once!" Harry exclaimed; witnessing his son dancing in midair as his daughter directed his movements from below, Ginny's wand in her hand. Surprised, Lillian dropped the wand and yelled, "Daddy!"
Harry quickly lunged forward in order to catch his falling son.
"Dad, you'll always be there to save me, won't you?"
"Of course, Sirius James," he replied, kissing his son on the head.
"Yuck!"
"Oh. Sirius!" Harry laughed. "Now Lillian, be a good girl and put Mummy's wand back before she notices it was missing." Harry winked and patted his daughter on the head as she skipped out of the room. "So Mum tells me you fell of your broom today."
"It was Lillian's fault!"
"What do you say over the weekend, before it gets too cold, we go flying together?"
"Really?"
"Really."
"Yippee!"
"Harry, kids, dinner's ready," called Mrs. Weasley from the bottom of the stairs.
At the table, Ron and Hermione were already seated on each side of Neville Longbottom. That can't be a good sign, Harry thought, taking his own seat next to his wife and daughter. Arthur Weasley entered the kitchen muttering, "What a day. What a day," and took his seat at the head of the table.
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley called, helping him to a serving of stew. "How was work today?"
"It was a busy day. I had a meeting with Scrimegour."
"Oh. And what did Scrimegour want?" asked Harry.
"He wanted to inform me that he's cutting back a few jobs to save gold. Don't worry, Molly, my job is safe," he added, noticing a worried expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.
"Is that so?" Harry asked angrily.
"What is the matter, Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
"We have two escaped Death Eaters on the lose, and Scrimegour won't lift a bloody finger to try to stop them! They made a grand little appearance at Hogwarts today, and still, he refuses to allow aurors to guard the school."
Silence filled the room as nobody quite knew what to say exactly; most letting this new development sink in.
Neville was the first to speak, "You mean Hogwarts will be without protection?"
"No," Harry said blankly. "If I have to do it myself, I will."
"Lillian, Sirius, why don't you both go up to your room. I'll send up your dinner there," Ginny said gently to her children and watched them skip and hop out of the room.
"Harry, don't be ridiculous," said Hermione.
"She's right, mate, there's three of us, and three shifts to cover," nodded Ron.
"Four," said Neville. "There are four of us."
"No. There are five of us," corrected Ginny. "Harry, when are you going to learn that there's nothing you have to do alone?"
"Thanks, Ginny, but what about the twins?"
"Oh. Right," Ginny said, biting her lip and looking over at Mrs. Weasley.
"Very well," sighed Mrs. Weasley. "I'll watch the twins when needed."
"Thanks, Mum," Ginny replied as Mrs. Weasley waived her hand as if it were nothing.
"Harry, my department hasn't heard a word about this," Mr. Weasley added. "Who exactly escaped?"
Harry took a deep breath and swallowed hard, "Lucius Malfoy and Avery."
"But... that can't be," Arthur stated matter-of-factly. "Surely the entire Ministry would know."
"Malfoy and Avery escaping... Harry, this should have been front page of The Prophet!" said Hermione.
"I know. Scrimegour wants it kept quiet."
"What?"
"Why on heaven's earth..."
"Well, his reputation for starters. But I have a bad feeling..."
"Harry," Ron cleared his throat, "what were they doing at Hogwarts?"
"When I found them, they were trying to place the Imperious Curse on Hagrid," said Neville.
For a split second, Harry considered not telling them all he knew. Looking at their worried faces, and given the fact they were ready to help him without any other information, he decided it's best to tell them the truth. "I believe Dumbledore was buried above something they want or need for something. His tomb has already been disturbed twice before."
Her hands covering her mouth, Hermione gasped.
"Are you sure?" asked Mr. Weasley.
"Yes."
"But what could it possibly be..."
"I don't know, Ron. I just don't know."
****
Over the next several days, activities within Hogwarts were back to normal; the only exception being a small number of witches and wizards taking turns patrolling the edge of the Forbidden Forest throughout the day.
Tom gazed out the window as several of his classmates fell asleep listening to another one of Professor Binns dull lectures on the Goblin rebellion. I need to get out of here, he thought, watching the bare branches sway in the cold breeze. Getting up from his seat, Tom walked over to the window for a better look outside. A tall, lanky man with flaming red hair could be seen talking with Hagrid and his Care of Magical Creatures class. If I were to do it, now would be ideal. Tom quickly formulated a plan and went back to his desk to gather his belongings. While Professor Binns back was still turned to his sleeping class, Tom quietly left the classroom.
Hurrying down the stairs two at a time, Tom was outside within minutes. Reducing his speed, Tom strolled across school grounds careful not to attract attention from both the Greenhouses and the Care of Magical Creatures class. Standing before the Forest edge, Tom took another glance behind him and smirked as he entered the thicket of trees and branches. This was too easy, he thought as he pulled out the key from his bag.
Into the Forest you must lurk.
Look for a vine that has a third thorn,
Next a shed of unicorn horn.
Tom ventured deeper and deeper into the Forest, binding his robes tightly as it was much cooler without ample sunlight. Taking out his wand, Tom muttered "Lumos," and the tip of wand ignited, providing a steady ray of light. Tom searched for what must have been ages, examining each and every tree, bush, shrub, and vine for anything that only had three thorns. He found the unicorn horn rather quickly as these creatures often shed bits of their horns as they grow. Ready to give up, Tom turned back towards the castle. Tripping over a tree root, Tom swore loudly. As he stood up, surveying his torn robes, he took out his wand to mend them, he couldn't believe his eyes. Tom was staring at the very plant he had been searching for. "Incredible! And right at the Forest edge too; how ever did I miss it?" Pulling it up from the ground, he carefully placed it in his bag next to the unicorn horn. Mending his torn attire, Tom scurried over to the courtyard to join the rest of his fellow Slytherin’s.
"Tom! There you are!" yelled Celia Burke. "I told Professor Taft you were ill. Are you feeling well? You look flushed."
"I'm feeling quite well," smirked Tom.
"You mind telling us what you were up to?" asked Patrick Parkinson.
"Up to?" replied Tom. "I went to see Madam Pompfrey about a headache I endured during Professor Binns dreadful speech."
"Oh. All right."
"I don't remember old Binns giving a speech," added Flint, taking a bite of an apple. "Wa' speesh?"
"You were sleeping, so I don't expect you to remember anything," sighed Tom. Sometimes I can't believe my own good luck.
There you have it... feedback here please.
Well, this chapter began to give me problems, so I've decided to cut it into two... so here's the first part.... I hope you like it.
Chapter 16:
That night after dinner, Tom slipped behind the tapestry in the Great Hall while the rest of the students were leaving. Inside the secret passageway, Tom walked down the long, narrow corridor stumbling across a small, old door with a tarnished, dusty sign that read The Hogs Head. Closed after the second wizarding war, Tom turned the handle, pleased to find it unlocked.
Surveying the length of the old bar, Tom took out his wand and muttered "Lumos." That's better, Tom thought as he studied his surroundings, perplexed as the Hogs Head looked as if one day all the inhabitants simply vanished. A dusty old rag could be found partially inside an even dustier, chipped mug. Boxes of bottles of various wizard drinks were stacked behind the bar for easy reach. Picking up an old bottle of Firewhiskey, Tom slipped it into his bag and continued along the room.
Finding the steps to the guest quarters, Tom slowly began his journey to the second floor. In the very last room, he found a comfortable space complete with a large cauldron, set of scales, and a large wooden block table perfect for preparing potion ingredients. Empting his bag of the vine and unicorn husk, Tom placed them on the table. Finding a few dusty towels, he cleaned out the cauldron. Best not to use magic, he thought, frowning as he cleaned a thick layer of rust from inside the pot. Wiping his brow when the pewter could once again be seen, Tom noticed a small cabinet and carefully opened it. Inside he found a small jar of powered lionfish spine, and a phial containing a single jobberknoll feather. Ecstatic, Tom ran back down the steps over to the bar in search of a bottle of elf-made wine. To his luck, he found not only one bottle, but an entire box full. Taking a bottle back up the stairs, Tom couldn't believe his eyes when he found in a lovely old vase, a single dandelion. Seizing the flower, Tom ran back over to the cauldron and read his instructions once more.
"I still don't have a scarab beetle," Tom frowned to himself. "Where in the world do I get those?" Deciding to go ahead and prepare everything he would need for his return, Tom chopped the dandelion and laid out all the ingredients in order of use. Finished, he picked up his bag and returned to the castle.
Back inside the secret passageway, Tom listened carefully for any sign of movement from the narrow halls. Satisfied that all was clear, he proceeded down the South end, passing various doors that would take him to different classrooms, teacher studies, and common rooms. One ancient door caught Tom's attention. It was boarded and had a giant red "X" above it. I wonder what lives behind here, he thought, trying in vain to pry off the old boards. It must be a permanent sticking charm, he smirked. "Where ever this leads, someone doesn't want anyone to go. I wonder what it is..."
Startled by distant voices that echoed through the walls, Tom backtracked at top speed, finding the door to the Slytherin common room and slipping inside where he blended into the evening commotion. Squeezing through a group of third years, Tom found a vacant chair by the roaring fire and sat down, dropping his bag next to him. Spending a moment to familiarise himself with the usual evening banter, Tom began to drift his gaze into the dancing flames. Soon, the noise ceased and he was alone. Concentrating on the merry fire that was before him, he heard a distant calling... "Tom...Tom...comes join us... Tom, make your father proud...Tom, the path to glory can be found...."
"Durgan!"
"Wha'?"
"Where were you just now?"
"Oh, Flint," Tom said in a shaky voice, "oh, yes... I um...”
"Tom, are you feeling ill again?" asked Celia Burke who began running her fingers through his dark hair.
"I'm perhaps a bit drowsy."
"Well, give Parkinson your homework, and you get yourself to bed," demanded Celia Burke.
"What!"
"You heard me, Patrick," she said. "You can finish his assignment. Tom's ill and need to have rest."
"Very well," Tom said through a fake yawn, throwing a roll of parchment towards Patrick Parkinson. "Don't get any of the answers wrong."
With a low grunt, Patrick said, "Fine," and went to an empty table to begin his essay on Jupiter's moons.
****
The next few weeks passed with little excitement as the students prepared to leave for the Christmas holiday. Late Saturday morning, Tom woke up to a nearly deserted common room. Wondering where everyone was, he realized this was the final visit to Hogsmeade until after the New Year. Turning around to see an eager first year behind him, Tom asked, "What do you want?"
"I'm s-s-sorry, b-b-but you have an owl," the first year stammered, pointing to an eagle owl flying around the room.
"Yes, thank you," Tom replied, taking out a sickle from his pocket and giving it to the boy, watching as the owl landed on the mantle. Taking his letter from the owl, Tom opened the envelope, recognizing a second envelope to be his mother's very best stationary. A separate note slid out and Tom read:
Dear Sir,
Please be informed that your letter has been intercepted by the Magical Postal Services, and rerouted to your present address. If you have any questions regarding this forwarding service, please contact your nearest Post office.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Tom K. Blumsbury
Post Master
Tossing the first note into the fire, Tom opened the second and read:
My Dearest Tom,
I find it most regrettable to tell you that if you are reading this letter, then I am not longer of this Earth. I must tell you that I have tried on many occasions to find the courage to tell you sooner. My angel, I was afraid. I was afraid that I would admit to myself the very fact I may never see your charming face again. That I may never know what kind of man you grow to become. I rather live in my own fantasy of seeing you become a man full of greatness. A man other's wished to be. But I can no longer deny that Death has been my companion for many weeks now. I also regret that I never had the chance to thank you for that lovely perfume you sent to me weeks ago. I have worn it each and every day since it was found on the front doorstep. My darling Tom, if I am grateful for anything in this life, I am grateful to have been your mother. I love you always, my angel.
Sincerely,
Mother
Without a trace of emotion, Tom re-read the letter. Smirking, Tom placed it in the pocket of his robes, and let out a slight laugh. It's not every day you become the master of a grand estate. In an instant, Tom set out to seek the Headmistress. "There is work to be done."
And there you go... a good place to pause... feedback here, thanks.
Chapter 16:
That night after dinner, Tom slipped behind the tapestry in the Great Hall while the rest of the students were leaving. Inside the secret passageway, Tom walked down the long, narrow corridor stumbling across a small, old door with a tarnished, dusty sign that read The Hogs Head. Closed after the second wizarding war, Tom turned the handle, pleased to find it unlocked.
Surveying the length of the old bar, Tom took out his wand and muttered "Lumos." That's better, Tom thought as he studied his surroundings, perplexed as the Hogs Head looked as if one day all the inhabitants simply vanished. A dusty old rag could be found partially inside an even dustier, chipped mug. Boxes of bottles of various wizard drinks were stacked behind the bar for easy reach. Picking up an old bottle of Firewhiskey, Tom slipped it into his bag and continued along the room.
Finding the steps to the guest quarters, Tom slowly began his journey to the second floor. In the very last room, he found a comfortable space complete with a large cauldron, set of scales, and a large wooden block table perfect for preparing potion ingredients. Empting his bag of the vine and unicorn husk, Tom placed them on the table. Finding a few dusty towels, he cleaned out the cauldron. Best not to use magic, he thought, frowning as he cleaned a thick layer of rust from inside the pot. Wiping his brow when the pewter could once again be seen, Tom noticed a small cabinet and carefully opened it. Inside he found a small jar of powered lionfish spine, and a phial containing a single jobberknoll feather. Ecstatic, Tom ran back down the steps over to the bar in search of a bottle of elf-made wine. To his luck, he found not only one bottle, but an entire box full. Taking a bottle back up the stairs, Tom couldn't believe his eyes when he found in a lovely old vase, a single dandelion. Seizing the flower, Tom ran back over to the cauldron and read his instructions once more.
"I still don't have a scarab beetle," Tom frowned to himself. "Where in the world do I get those?" Deciding to go ahead and prepare everything he would need for his return, Tom chopped the dandelion and laid out all the ingredients in order of use. Finished, he picked up his bag and returned to the castle.
Back inside the secret passageway, Tom listened carefully for any sign of movement from the narrow halls. Satisfied that all was clear, he proceeded down the South end, passing various doors that would take him to different classrooms, teacher studies, and common rooms. One ancient door caught Tom's attention. It was boarded and had a giant red "X" above it. I wonder what lives behind here, he thought, trying in vain to pry off the old boards. It must be a permanent sticking charm, he smirked. "Where ever this leads, someone doesn't want anyone to go. I wonder what it is..."
Startled by distant voices that echoed through the walls, Tom backtracked at top speed, finding the door to the Slytherin common room and slipping inside where he blended into the evening commotion. Squeezing through a group of third years, Tom found a vacant chair by the roaring fire and sat down, dropping his bag next to him. Spending a moment to familiarise himself with the usual evening banter, Tom began to drift his gaze into the dancing flames. Soon, the noise ceased and he was alone. Concentrating on the merry fire that was before him, he heard a distant calling... "Tom...Tom...comes join us... Tom, make your father proud...Tom, the path to glory can be found...."
"Durgan!"
"Wha'?"
"Where were you just now?"
"Oh, Flint," Tom said in a shaky voice, "oh, yes... I um...”
"Tom, are you feeling ill again?" asked Celia Burke who began running her fingers through his dark hair.
"I'm perhaps a bit drowsy."
"Well, give Parkinson your homework, and you get yourself to bed," demanded Celia Burke.
"What!"
"You heard me, Patrick," she said. "You can finish his assignment. Tom's ill and need to have rest."
"Very well," Tom said through a fake yawn, throwing a roll of parchment towards Patrick Parkinson. "Don't get any of the answers wrong."
With a low grunt, Patrick said, "Fine," and went to an empty table to begin his essay on Jupiter's moons.
****
The next few weeks passed with little excitement as the students prepared to leave for the Christmas holiday. Late Saturday morning, Tom woke up to a nearly deserted common room. Wondering where everyone was, he realized this was the final visit to Hogsmeade until after the New Year. Turning around to see an eager first year behind him, Tom asked, "What do you want?"
"I'm s-s-sorry, b-b-but you have an owl," the first year stammered, pointing to an eagle owl flying around the room.
"Yes, thank you," Tom replied, taking out a sickle from his pocket and giving it to the boy, watching as the owl landed on the mantle. Taking his letter from the owl, Tom opened the envelope, recognizing a second envelope to be his mother's very best stationary. A separate note slid out and Tom read:
Dear Sir,
Please be informed that your letter has been intercepted by the Magical Postal Services, and rerouted to your present address. If you have any questions regarding this forwarding service, please contact your nearest Post office.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Tom K. Blumsbury
Post Master
Tossing the first note into the fire, Tom opened the second and read:
My Dearest Tom,
I find it most regrettable to tell you that if you are reading this letter, then I am not longer of this Earth. I must tell you that I have tried on many occasions to find the courage to tell you sooner. My angel, I was afraid. I was afraid that I would admit to myself the very fact I may never see your charming face again. That I may never know what kind of man you grow to become. I rather live in my own fantasy of seeing you become a man full of greatness. A man other's wished to be. But I can no longer deny that Death has been my companion for many weeks now. I also regret that I never had the chance to thank you for that lovely perfume you sent to me weeks ago. I have worn it each and every day since it was found on the front doorstep. My darling Tom, if I am grateful for anything in this life, I am grateful to have been your mother. I love you always, my angel.
Sincerely,
Mother
Without a trace of emotion, Tom re-read the letter. Smirking, Tom placed it in the pocket of his robes, and let out a slight laugh. It's not every day you become the master of a grand estate. In an instant, Tom set out to seek the Headmistress. "There is work to be done."
And there you go... a good place to pause... feedback here, thanks.
Hey everyone! I wanted to have this part up sooner, but, an unexpected turn of events happened with one of the characters. *sigh* What can I say, somebody's not happy at all.
Anyhoo, here goes...
The next part....
Minerva McGonagall nestled herself into a firm wing-backed chair located near one of the windows overlooking the Quidditch pitch. Opening large leather bound book, she began to read, only to pause every few moments to gaze out the window, chewing on the words she just ingested. Getting lost in her thoughts, Professor McGonagall was brought back to reality by the sound of the door.
"Severus, this is a surprise," she said opening the door, "And Mr. Malfoy. What can I do for you?"
"Please pardon this intrusion, Minerva. May we speak to...?"
"Come in, come in. Why don't you have a seat," she said, letting her visitors through the threshold and closing the door. "Albus stepped away. Is there anything I might be of assistance?"
"It's best we wait for Dumbledore," replied Snape.
"Oh yes. Wait for Dumbledore. Let's see what the talking picture has to say; you certainly have gone soft in your old age."
"Hold you tongue!" spat Snape. "Need I remind you that you are only alive today because of the precautions...?"
"Oh not again with the plan; I've had enough!" Draco Malfoy jeered, his temper rising. "For more than a decade I've been stuck with you as my keeper, for what? So that the great Severus Snape can once again feel important as Dumbledore's pet?"
"Enough!" Snape yelled, pulling his wand out from his robes.
"Both of you, quiet!" McGonagall interrupted, coming between the two men. "Now either you tell me what this is all about or you can leave. I will not have wands out in my office."
"Very well," replied Snape sourly, re-storing his wand.
Draco merely stared out of the window and watched one of the house teams practice Quidditch, muttering under his breath about how poorly the team was playing.
"Ah, company."Dumbledore smiled as he reappeared in his portrait. "What do I owe this pleasant surprise? Severus. Mr. Malfoy."
"We have a slight situation on our hands, Dumbledore. Lucious Malfoy has uncovered Draco's condition."
"I presume an attack took place."
"Yes, Sir," Snape began to explain. "It seems he ordered Avery to investigate me, along with a third man. I do not know his identity, but he tried to tail me on a few occasions. After a morning outing, I returned to find my house ransacked. Lucious managed to break through the charms I had placed, and found Draco in his quarters. The men managed to Disapparate after a moment."
"I see," Dumbledore nodded, twirling his beard between his fingers. "Mr. Malfoy, are you okay after this morning's events?"
Draco merely nodded before finding his voice. "He, my father, accused me of keeping something from him."
"Lucious has been after a magical artifact for quite some time now. This quest, if you will, has controlled every remaining fibre of his being. A map, if you will, that he believes can instill greater power within him."
"I don't have it," Draco replied. "We, my family, used to keep a number of questionable artifacts under the drawing room. After... after the last... well, I sold everything that remained."
"Do you remember to whom you sold it?"
"Borgin and Burkes."
"And Draco, do you know what these items were?"
"No. There was an ancient piece of parchment, perhaps some potions, a pendant or two. Nothing too valuable for I only received four galleons for the lot."
"Albus," Professor McGonagall spoke at last, "you don't think that..."
A second knock on the door brought silence to the Headmistress's office. "Enter," said McGonagall, not moving from her desk. "Mr. Durgan."
"I'm very sorry to interrupt, Professor," Tom said, walking into the office, taking slight notice of the others sitting in front of the Headmistress. "I couldn't find Professor Slughorn."
"Mr. Durgan, can this wait until after my meeting?"
"Again, I apologize for the intrusion, but I have an urgent matter that needs attention." Tom said, passing the letter from his mother to McGonagall.
Frowning slightly after reading the letter, McGonagall said softly, "Severus, if you wouldn't mind, please ask Horace to come here at once. I believe you know where he can be found."
"Yes, Minerva," Snape said as he left the office, robes billowing behind him.
"Tom, I am very sorry for your loss. I will arrange a portkey to take you home at once."
"Thank you, Professor. My mother had a very large family estate, however, it may take me some time to get it sorted," Tom said in a shaky voice, looking toward the ground in order to avoid the prejudice gaze stemming from the portrait behind the headmistress.
"Then you are requesting a leave of absence?" asked Professor McGonagall.
Tom nodded and she continued, "I have no objection to allowing you one month, however, I you will need to keep up to date with your reading."
"Yes, Professor."
"Ah, Minerva," boomed Horace Slughorn, entering the round office. "Severus here said you needed to see me immediately. I was just advising the lad at Honeydukes the best way to produce crystallized pineapple. First you..."
"Thank you, Horace," said McGonagall, clearing her throat. "Mr. Durgan has had a loss and some family matters that need tending to, so, I have cleared him for a month long leave of absence."
"Tom," Slughorn replied while patting Tom on the back. "I don't really know what to say. My condolences to you…"
"Thank you, Professor Slughorn."
"I know that times like these can be difficult for the best of men. If you need anything, send me an owl, and I'll arrange for the most magnificent healer to tend to you. She was one of my best students several years ago and specializes in addlements of the mind and heart, or some mumbo-jumbo like that. Yes, Belinda Blisedale is her name and she could..."
"Horace, thank you very much for your consideration, but I expect we should allow Mr. Durgan to gather his belongings."
"Oh, yes. Well then, if you all will excuse me, I have a crystallized pineapple calling my name," said Slughorn as he turned and left.
"Tom, be back here in one hour. That should give you enough time to pack your trunk and bid your farewells."
"Yes, Professor," nodded Tom, taking his letter back from McGonagall, turning to leave for the Slytherin common room.
"I do apologize for that interruption, gentlemen. Now, where were we?" McGonagall said, looking up at Severus and Malfoy.
"Minerva," stated Dumbledore slowly. "Might I suggest that your student have a tutor placed with him during his absence? All the better to keep up with his education…"
"Yes, Albus, that would be ideal, but who can I get to tutor Mr. Durgan?"
"I thought that we could send Mr. Malfoy."
Draco began feeling uneasy at these words. He didn't want to become some pesky mudblood's babysitter. "And if I refuse?"
"It may not be wise," replied Dumbledore. "Mr. Durgan will need assistance with his studies, and you are a qualified wizard with the skills to help him. I might also add that you are in need of a safe environment. This is an ideal opportunity for the both of you."
"Fine," snorted Malfoy. "But I'm not happy about this."
"I thank you, Mr. Malfoy. It is my understanding that you will be quite comfortable in Durgan Acres."
"Yeah, right. A muggle's house…"
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, you best summon your belongings," said McGonagall. "You'll be accompanying Mr. Durgan in less than an hour.
****
Tom Durgan reappeared with his trunk at the Professor McGonagall's office and entered, this time without knocking.
"Excellent, Mr. Durgan, right on time." McGonagall said, taking out her wand in order to shrink his trunk so he could fit it into his pocket. "Now, I would like you to meet your tutor, Draco Malfoy."
At those words, Tom's eyes bore into Draco Malfoy as if he were reading his very soul. Draco Malfoy looked as sour as he ever did, clearly unhappy about his newfound situation but stared back at Tom.
"The two of you will have a few weeks to get to know one another," McGonagall said after turning the old paperweight from her one of the many bookshelves into a portkey. "Mr. Malfoy will assist you with your studies, and under his tutelage you have permission to keep up with your potions work, however, only under right conditions. That is to say; where your work will not be witnessed by muggles. I need to stress that under no conditions are you to practice Charms, Transfiguration, and DADA."
"Yes, Professor," nodded Tom, not taking his eyes off his new tutor.
"Mr. Malfoy, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you of our Statute of Secrecy, as you will inhabit a muggle neighborhood."
"Great," replied Draco, rolling his eyes.
"Very well, off you go," said McGonagall, pointing to the paperweight.
Both Draco Malfoy and Tom Durgan placed a finger on the object and disappeared from Hogwarts.
And if you'd like, please leave you questions, comments, etc... here. Thanks!
Anyhoo, here goes...
The next part....
Minerva McGonagall nestled herself into a firm wing-backed chair located near one of the windows overlooking the Quidditch pitch. Opening large leather bound book, she began to read, only to pause every few moments to gaze out the window, chewing on the words she just ingested. Getting lost in her thoughts, Professor McGonagall was brought back to reality by the sound of the door.
"Severus, this is a surprise," she said opening the door, "And Mr. Malfoy. What can I do for you?"
"Please pardon this intrusion, Minerva. May we speak to...?"
"Come in, come in. Why don't you have a seat," she said, letting her visitors through the threshold and closing the door. "Albus stepped away. Is there anything I might be of assistance?"
"It's best we wait for Dumbledore," replied Snape.
"Oh yes. Wait for Dumbledore. Let's see what the talking picture has to say; you certainly have gone soft in your old age."
"Hold you tongue!" spat Snape. "Need I remind you that you are only alive today because of the precautions...?"
"Oh not again with the plan; I've had enough!" Draco Malfoy jeered, his temper rising. "For more than a decade I've been stuck with you as my keeper, for what? So that the great Severus Snape can once again feel important as Dumbledore's pet?"
"Enough!" Snape yelled, pulling his wand out from his robes.
"Both of you, quiet!" McGonagall interrupted, coming between the two men. "Now either you tell me what this is all about or you can leave. I will not have wands out in my office."
"Very well," replied Snape sourly, re-storing his wand.
Draco merely stared out of the window and watched one of the house teams practice Quidditch, muttering under his breath about how poorly the team was playing.
"Ah, company."Dumbledore smiled as he reappeared in his portrait. "What do I owe this pleasant surprise? Severus. Mr. Malfoy."
"We have a slight situation on our hands, Dumbledore. Lucious Malfoy has uncovered Draco's condition."
"I presume an attack took place."
"Yes, Sir," Snape began to explain. "It seems he ordered Avery to investigate me, along with a third man. I do not know his identity, but he tried to tail me on a few occasions. After a morning outing, I returned to find my house ransacked. Lucious managed to break through the charms I had placed, and found Draco in his quarters. The men managed to Disapparate after a moment."
"I see," Dumbledore nodded, twirling his beard between his fingers. "Mr. Malfoy, are you okay after this morning's events?"
Draco merely nodded before finding his voice. "He, my father, accused me of keeping something from him."
"Lucious has been after a magical artifact for quite some time now. This quest, if you will, has controlled every remaining fibre of his being. A map, if you will, that he believes can instill greater power within him."
"I don't have it," Draco replied. "We, my family, used to keep a number of questionable artifacts under the drawing room. After... after the last... well, I sold everything that remained."
"Do you remember to whom you sold it?"
"Borgin and Burkes."
"And Draco, do you know what these items were?"
"No. There was an ancient piece of parchment, perhaps some potions, a pendant or two. Nothing too valuable for I only received four galleons for the lot."
"Albus," Professor McGonagall spoke at last, "you don't think that..."
A second knock on the door brought silence to the Headmistress's office. "Enter," said McGonagall, not moving from her desk. "Mr. Durgan."
"I'm very sorry to interrupt, Professor," Tom said, walking into the office, taking slight notice of the others sitting in front of the Headmistress. "I couldn't find Professor Slughorn."
"Mr. Durgan, can this wait until after my meeting?"
"Again, I apologize for the intrusion, but I have an urgent matter that needs attention." Tom said, passing the letter from his mother to McGonagall.
Frowning slightly after reading the letter, McGonagall said softly, "Severus, if you wouldn't mind, please ask Horace to come here at once. I believe you know where he can be found."
"Yes, Minerva," Snape said as he left the office, robes billowing behind him.
"Tom, I am very sorry for your loss. I will arrange a portkey to take you home at once."
"Thank you, Professor. My mother had a very large family estate, however, it may take me some time to get it sorted," Tom said in a shaky voice, looking toward the ground in order to avoid the prejudice gaze stemming from the portrait behind the headmistress.
"Then you are requesting a leave of absence?" asked Professor McGonagall.
Tom nodded and she continued, "I have no objection to allowing you one month, however, I you will need to keep up to date with your reading."
"Yes, Professor."
"Ah, Minerva," boomed Horace Slughorn, entering the round office. "Severus here said you needed to see me immediately. I was just advising the lad at Honeydukes the best way to produce crystallized pineapple. First you..."
"Thank you, Horace," said McGonagall, clearing her throat. "Mr. Durgan has had a loss and some family matters that need tending to, so, I have cleared him for a month long leave of absence."
"Tom," Slughorn replied while patting Tom on the back. "I don't really know what to say. My condolences to you…"
"Thank you, Professor Slughorn."
"I know that times like these can be difficult for the best of men. If you need anything, send me an owl, and I'll arrange for the most magnificent healer to tend to you. She was one of my best students several years ago and specializes in addlements of the mind and heart, or some mumbo-jumbo like that. Yes, Belinda Blisedale is her name and she could..."
"Horace, thank you very much for your consideration, but I expect we should allow Mr. Durgan to gather his belongings."
"Oh, yes. Well then, if you all will excuse me, I have a crystallized pineapple calling my name," said Slughorn as he turned and left.
"Tom, be back here in one hour. That should give you enough time to pack your trunk and bid your farewells."
"Yes, Professor," nodded Tom, taking his letter back from McGonagall, turning to leave for the Slytherin common room.
"I do apologize for that interruption, gentlemen. Now, where were we?" McGonagall said, looking up at Severus and Malfoy.
"Minerva," stated Dumbledore slowly. "Might I suggest that your student have a tutor placed with him during his absence? All the better to keep up with his education…"
"Yes, Albus, that would be ideal, but who can I get to tutor Mr. Durgan?"
"I thought that we could send Mr. Malfoy."
Draco began feeling uneasy at these words. He didn't want to become some pesky mudblood's babysitter. "And if I refuse?"
"It may not be wise," replied Dumbledore. "Mr. Durgan will need assistance with his studies, and you are a qualified wizard with the skills to help him. I might also add that you are in need of a safe environment. This is an ideal opportunity for the both of you."
"Fine," snorted Malfoy. "But I'm not happy about this."
"I thank you, Mr. Malfoy. It is my understanding that you will be quite comfortable in Durgan Acres."
"Yeah, right. A muggle's house…"
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, you best summon your belongings," said McGonagall. "You'll be accompanying Mr. Durgan in less than an hour.
****
Tom Durgan reappeared with his trunk at the Professor McGonagall's office and entered, this time without knocking.
"Excellent, Mr. Durgan, right on time." McGonagall said, taking out her wand in order to shrink his trunk so he could fit it into his pocket. "Now, I would like you to meet your tutor, Draco Malfoy."
At those words, Tom's eyes bore into Draco Malfoy as if he were reading his very soul. Draco Malfoy looked as sour as he ever did, clearly unhappy about his newfound situation but stared back at Tom.
"The two of you will have a few weeks to get to know one another," McGonagall said after turning the old paperweight from her one of the many bookshelves into a portkey. "Mr. Malfoy will assist you with your studies, and under his tutelage you have permission to keep up with your potions work, however, only under right conditions. That is to say; where your work will not be witnessed by muggles. I need to stress that under no conditions are you to practice Charms, Transfiguration, and DADA."
"Yes, Professor," nodded Tom, not taking his eyes off his new tutor.
"Mr. Malfoy, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you of our Statute of Secrecy, as you will inhabit a muggle neighborhood."
"Great," replied Draco, rolling his eyes.
"Very well, off you go," said McGonagall, pointing to the paperweight.
Both Draco Malfoy and Tom Durgan placed a finger on the object and disappeared from Hogwarts.
And if you'd like, please leave you questions, comments, etc... here. Thanks!
Hey guys! I'm terribly sorry it's taken me so long to post a new update. But, here's a new quickie chapter...
the next chapter...
“Severus,” Dumbledore began, “I ask that you keep watch over Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Durgan. If you encounter any suspicious behaviour, please report it to me directly and without haste. While I am unable to put my finger on it, something is not as it seems.”
“I will,” replied Snape.
“Minerva, if you will, please tell me all you know of Mr. Durgan.”
Professor McGonagall shifted in her chair, “Albus, I suppose I should begin….”
******
Once a grand estate that demanded the envy of a large social community, Durgan Acre’s was now lost of all its charm. A dark cloud hovered over the property as snow and ice covered the meticulously planned landscaping.
Tom Durgan and Draco Malfoy appeared in the garden with a thud.
“Where are we?” asked Draco, brushing snow off his robes.
Ignoring Draco, Tom began trekking through the snow towards the terrace door. Peering inside, the house was still and vacant. “Where is everyone,” Tom asked under his breath, slightly annoyed there would be nobody to let him inside.
Standing behind Tom, Draco began, “Are you going to open the door or shall we stay out here and freeze?”
“It’s locked,” answered Tom, finally taking notice of Draco. “I haven’t got a key.”
“You haven’t got a key. What are you, boy? A filthy muggle or a bloody wizard?” Shaking his head, Draco pushed Tom aside and pulled out his wand from beneath his robes. With a sturdy tap on the handle, the door unlocked with a gentle click. “You haven’t got a key…” Draco continued with a laugh as he pulled the door open through the snow.
“Thank you, but I will kindly ask you never again to speak to me this way again,” said Tom, pushing himself inside.
“It looks as if I struck a raw cord with the wonder boy himself. I would agree, but, I don’t think I will,” Draco smirked. “Now if you will kindly show me to my room.”
Livid, Tom turned red, but quickly regained his composure. “Yes. The servant’s quarters are down this hallway, around the corner from the kitchen. I would show you, but, I don’t belong in the servant’s area.”
“Servant’s quarters. I don’t think you quite understand the position I was placed. I am not your servant, but your tutor. I am here to make sure you: do your homework like a good little boy and don’t wander too far away from home.”
“Exactly. You are here to do me a service.”
“Wrong!” Draco began to loose his temper. “I am here to do that old talking picture and your Headmistress a service. It is you that was placed in my ward.”
“Is that so,” replied Tom silkily.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with boy,” Draco said in a whisper.
Taking a brief moment to relish in those words, Tom bore his magnificant eyes into Draco’s and said, “No, Mr. Malfoy, I believe it is you, who has made a grave error in judgment. You haven’t the faintest idea of what I am capable of. I also suggest you stay out of my way.”
Stunned into silence, Draco Malfoy stood there as if slapped across the face. He heard a rant similar to that before, though could not quite place it and a terrible feeling began spreading through his body.
“That’s more like it,” laughed Tom. “Very well, you may take one of the guest rooms. Come along like a good teacher.”
Draco followed.
And as always, questions, comments, etc... can be left here. Thanks for reading!
the next chapter...
“Severus,” Dumbledore began, “I ask that you keep watch over Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Durgan. If you encounter any suspicious behaviour, please report it to me directly and without haste. While I am unable to put my finger on it, something is not as it seems.”
“I will,” replied Snape.
“Minerva, if you will, please tell me all you know of Mr. Durgan.”
Professor McGonagall shifted in her chair, “Albus, I suppose I should begin….”
******
Once a grand estate that demanded the envy of a large social community, Durgan Acre’s was now lost of all its charm. A dark cloud hovered over the property as snow and ice covered the meticulously planned landscaping.
Tom Durgan and Draco Malfoy appeared in the garden with a thud.
“Where are we?” asked Draco, brushing snow off his robes.
Ignoring Draco, Tom began trekking through the snow towards the terrace door. Peering inside, the house was still and vacant. “Where is everyone,” Tom asked under his breath, slightly annoyed there would be nobody to let him inside.
Standing behind Tom, Draco began, “Are you going to open the door or shall we stay out here and freeze?”
“It’s locked,” answered Tom, finally taking notice of Draco. “I haven’t got a key.”
“You haven’t got a key. What are you, boy? A filthy muggle or a bloody wizard?” Shaking his head, Draco pushed Tom aside and pulled out his wand from beneath his robes. With a sturdy tap on the handle, the door unlocked with a gentle click. “You haven’t got a key…” Draco continued with a laugh as he pulled the door open through the snow.
“Thank you, but I will kindly ask you never again to speak to me this way again,” said Tom, pushing himself inside.
“It looks as if I struck a raw cord with the wonder boy himself. I would agree, but, I don’t think I will,” Draco smirked. “Now if you will kindly show me to my room.”
Livid, Tom turned red, but quickly regained his composure. “Yes. The servant’s quarters are down this hallway, around the corner from the kitchen. I would show you, but, I don’t belong in the servant’s area.”
“Servant’s quarters. I don’t think you quite understand the position I was placed. I am not your servant, but your tutor. I am here to make sure you: do your homework like a good little boy and don’t wander too far away from home.”
“Exactly. You are here to do me a service.”
“Wrong!” Draco began to loose his temper. “I am here to do that old talking picture and your Headmistress a service. It is you that was placed in my ward.”
“Is that so,” replied Tom silkily.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with boy,” Draco said in a whisper.
Taking a brief moment to relish in those words, Tom bore his magnificant eyes into Draco’s and said, “No, Mr. Malfoy, I believe it is you, who has made a grave error in judgment. You haven’t the faintest idea of what I am capable of. I also suggest you stay out of my way.”
Stunned into silence, Draco Malfoy stood there as if slapped across the face. He heard a rant similar to that before, though could not quite place it and a terrible feeling began spreading through his body.
“That’s more like it,” laughed Tom. “Very well, you may take one of the guest rooms. Come along like a good teacher.”
Draco followed.
And as always, questions, comments, etc... can be left here. Thanks for reading!
Well, the next chapter is up and ready...
Chapter 19:
Draco’s room was small but cozy. The windows were free of heavy drapery and invited streaks of sunlight inside.
“The washroom is down the hall on the right,” Tom said. “I shall leave you to get settled.”
Draco remained silent. His haphazard gaze landed on the frilly, pillow-covered bed.
“Perhaps some rest would do you a bit of good,” Tom pat Draco on the shoulder before turning around to leave.
As Tom closed the door behind him, the room lost its little rays of warmth. The darkness swallowed Draco, luring him into sleep. Free from his own thought, Draco obeyed and drifted into the silent still.
His eyes were open, but all he could see was a sea of black with the frequent flicker from a nearby torch. He was standing before a pair of ruthless red eyes. Registering the presence of evil, Draco felt a wave of electric shocks coursing through his body. He was seventeen and failed the Dark Lord for a third time.
The pain vanished as he heard a roar of laughter from all around him.
“Draco,” whispered the pair of red eyes, “I must profess my utter disappointment. You were welcomed into my midst as a son. So eager you were to prove your worth to your Lord. I, being a gracious Lord, gave you the opportunity in destroying your Headmaster. Yet, you failed; another had to complete your task. But I was sympathetic. I allowed you to live and prove yourself again. I granted you the task of securing a most important artifact. A task my Death Eaters would have killed for. But you allowed Potter to gain access to it. Once again, you failed a very simple task. No matter, no matter. As furious as I was, I am a merciful Lord. I once again allowed you to live, and granted you a final task. All I asked is for you to deliver me Potter. A task that should have been easy for a boy. Yet for the final time, you have allowed yourself to be thwarted by him. Failure, Draco, does not suit our cause. I am afraid I can not simply overlook your inability to carry out very simple instructions. Tasks, I will say again, my Death Eaters would give anything to execute. I have run out of patience. Draco… Draco…”
In a single breath, Draco was left bare in the centre of the circle. He closed his eyes. Every attempt to drain emotion from his core was useless. The end was nearing with every breath he drew, with every pulse through his body. He would die. Resigning him to the dark, a voice awakened his senses. It was not the cruel whisper, but a stern, familiar sound.
“Draco, concentrate on my voice. Do exactly as I say,” it said. “Reproba nex. Reproba nex. Repeat this in your mind. Concentrate.”
Draco did as he was instructed. Blocking out every sound, every image, every feeling, he became numb. “Reproba nex,” he repeated. Unaware of the cruel whisper in the background, ignoring the expression of hatred upon the face of his father, not seeing the raised wand in Lucius Malfoy’s hand, Draco began to shake. “Reproba nex.” Convulsions overcame him as he slumped against the ground. “Reproba nex.” Draco Malfoy was dead.
******
Under the house in the cold, damp cellar, Tom set up an area for his independent potion studies. Cursing under his breath why he ever left his collections at the Hogs Head Inn. This would be the perfect setting for his quest for greater knowledge. Tom thought fondly of the map. How he longed to know the secrets it possessed. How he would give anything to have the items now. “I still need a scarab beetle,” Tom said. Quickly forming a plan, he decided that when Draco awakens, an outing would be in order.
*****
That afternoon, Draco awoke from his nightmare. He was drenched from sweat and dizzy, but was feeling much more himself. Gazing around the room, Draco was unsure how he ever got from the garden to the room. Was he ill? Did he fall? Why couldn’t he remember? Getting out of bed, Draco stepped out into the hall and turned right. Immediately finding the wash room, Draco splashed a bit of cold water on his face. The dizziness seemed to vanish, but Draco wondered how he knew where to go. Brushing these feelings of uncertainty aside, he found the stairs and ventured to the kitchen.
Tom was crouched over a piece of parchment at the breakfast table, a cup of tea by his side. Hearing the heavy footsteps of his tutor, Tom looked up.
“Had a good nap?”
“What is that you’re doing?”
“This?” replied Tom. “Oh. Nothing really; a shopping list. The hired help seemed to deem their employment finished, so the cupboards are bare. We’ll have to do some shopping.”
“I see.”
“I would like to go to Hogsmeade. Stock up on some items from Honeydukes. And you’ll need a pair of dress robes if you’re going to attend my mother’s funeral with me.”
“Dress robes at a muggle funeral?” eyed Draco curiously. “What makes you think I would attend your mother’s funeral?”
“Well, I am in your ward, aren’t I?”
Draco said nothing. He pulled out his wand from his pocket and a second cup of tea appeared on the table across from Tom. Sitting down, he said, “Well, then, if I have no choice.”
“Excellent! Shall we go then?” Tom smirked.
Taking a sip of his tea, Draco consented. Placing his cup back on the table, he stood up next to Tom, who seemed to be waiting, and took his arm. A spinning moment later the two of them were standing in front of Honeydukes.
And that's where I will leave you for now... any questions, comments, criticisms can be left in the feedback thread. Thanks a million for reading!
Chapter 19:
Draco’s room was small but cozy. The windows were free of heavy drapery and invited streaks of sunlight inside.
“The washroom is down the hall on the right,” Tom said. “I shall leave you to get settled.”
Draco remained silent. His haphazard gaze landed on the frilly, pillow-covered bed.
“Perhaps some rest would do you a bit of good,” Tom pat Draco on the shoulder before turning around to leave.
As Tom closed the door behind him, the room lost its little rays of warmth. The darkness swallowed Draco, luring him into sleep. Free from his own thought, Draco obeyed and drifted into the silent still.
His eyes were open, but all he could see was a sea of black with the frequent flicker from a nearby torch. He was standing before a pair of ruthless red eyes. Registering the presence of evil, Draco felt a wave of electric shocks coursing through his body. He was seventeen and failed the Dark Lord for a third time.
The pain vanished as he heard a roar of laughter from all around him.
“Draco,” whispered the pair of red eyes, “I must profess my utter disappointment. You were welcomed into my midst as a son. So eager you were to prove your worth to your Lord. I, being a gracious Lord, gave you the opportunity in destroying your Headmaster. Yet, you failed; another had to complete your task. But I was sympathetic. I allowed you to live and prove yourself again. I granted you the task of securing a most important artifact. A task my Death Eaters would have killed for. But you allowed Potter to gain access to it. Once again, you failed a very simple task. No matter, no matter. As furious as I was, I am a merciful Lord. I once again allowed you to live, and granted you a final task. All I asked is for you to deliver me Potter. A task that should have been easy for a boy. Yet for the final time, you have allowed yourself to be thwarted by him. Failure, Draco, does not suit our cause. I am afraid I can not simply overlook your inability to carry out very simple instructions. Tasks, I will say again, my Death Eaters would give anything to execute. I have run out of patience. Draco… Draco…”
In a single breath, Draco was left bare in the centre of the circle. He closed his eyes. Every attempt to drain emotion from his core was useless. The end was nearing with every breath he drew, with every pulse through his body. He would die. Resigning him to the dark, a voice awakened his senses. It was not the cruel whisper, but a stern, familiar sound.
“Draco, concentrate on my voice. Do exactly as I say,” it said. “Reproba nex. Reproba nex. Repeat this in your mind. Concentrate.”
Draco did as he was instructed. Blocking out every sound, every image, every feeling, he became numb. “Reproba nex,” he repeated. Unaware of the cruel whisper in the background, ignoring the expression of hatred upon the face of his father, not seeing the raised wand in Lucius Malfoy’s hand, Draco began to shake. “Reproba nex.” Convulsions overcame him as he slumped against the ground. “Reproba nex.” Draco Malfoy was dead.
******
Under the house in the cold, damp cellar, Tom set up an area for his independent potion studies. Cursing under his breath why he ever left his collections at the Hogs Head Inn. This would be the perfect setting for his quest for greater knowledge. Tom thought fondly of the map. How he longed to know the secrets it possessed. How he would give anything to have the items now. “I still need a scarab beetle,” Tom said. Quickly forming a plan, he decided that when Draco awakens, an outing would be in order.
*****
That afternoon, Draco awoke from his nightmare. He was drenched from sweat and dizzy, but was feeling much more himself. Gazing around the room, Draco was unsure how he ever got from the garden to the room. Was he ill? Did he fall? Why couldn’t he remember? Getting out of bed, Draco stepped out into the hall and turned right. Immediately finding the wash room, Draco splashed a bit of cold water on his face. The dizziness seemed to vanish, but Draco wondered how he knew where to go. Brushing these feelings of uncertainty aside, he found the stairs and ventured to the kitchen.
Tom was crouched over a piece of parchment at the breakfast table, a cup of tea by his side. Hearing the heavy footsteps of his tutor, Tom looked up.
“Had a good nap?”
“What is that you’re doing?”
“This?” replied Tom. “Oh. Nothing really; a shopping list. The hired help seemed to deem their employment finished, so the cupboards are bare. We’ll have to do some shopping.”
“I see.”
“I would like to go to Hogsmeade. Stock up on some items from Honeydukes. And you’ll need a pair of dress robes if you’re going to attend my mother’s funeral with me.”
“Dress robes at a muggle funeral?” eyed Draco curiously. “What makes you think I would attend your mother’s funeral?”
“Well, I am in your ward, aren’t I?”
Draco said nothing. He pulled out his wand from his pocket and a second cup of tea appeared on the table across from Tom. Sitting down, he said, “Well, then, if I have no choice.”
“Excellent! Shall we go then?” Tom smirked.
Taking a sip of his tea, Draco consented. Placing his cup back on the table, he stood up next to Tom, who seemed to be waiting, and took his arm. A spinning moment later the two of them were standing in front of Honeydukes.
And that's where I will leave you for now... any questions, comments, criticisms can be left in the feedback thread. Thanks a million for reading!
Well, I've kept you guys waiting long enough... here goes the next chapter:
Chapter 20:
Harry,
I have some information that will be useful to your investigation. Please meet me at The Three Broomsticks at exactly four o’clock this afternoon.
Yours Sincerely,
Remus Lupin
Harry reread the letter Lupin sent him earlier that morning, wondering what news he was able to dig up on the escaped prisoners. Scratching his head, Harry grew tired. Every trail that seemed to point to Lucius Malfoy turned cold. Realizing he had not yet told Ginny he would be late this evening, he opened the top drawer of his desk and reached for a gold mirror. Looking into his reflection, he said “Ginny.”
“Yes, Harry?” asked Ginny.
“How is your day going?”
“Well, the twins seem to think it funny to throw snowballs at poor old Crookshanks.”
“Hermione’s there?”
“Yes. She came by an hour ago,” Ginny sighed. “She’s a wreck, Harry. She and Ron just keep bickering and this last row… Harry, I don’t think she can take much more of it.”
“Perhaps I should just go and kick Ron in the …”
“Harry,”
“I know.”
“When will you be home?”
Harry sighed, “That’s why I’m calling. I’ll be late tonight. Lupin wrote me this morning; he has news for me about…”
“Harry, dear, I’m sorry… Lillian Potter! How did you ever…. Harry, I have to go… Lillian’s got herself frozen to a tree…”
Harry couldn’t help but to laugh. Those children were always getting into some kind of mischief. Replacing the mirror in the top drawer, Harry decided it was best to get out for a while. A walk through Hogsmeade might be nice, he thought, remembering Ginny talk about an ivory cloak in Gladrags Wizard Wear. I think I’ll surprise her with it.
Harry got up from his desk, gave a large stretch, and headed towards the Apparition point off the Atrium. Closing his eyes, he reopened them in Hogsmeade.
The village of Hogsmeade was usually quiet in the absence of Hogwarts students. Harry was somewhat surprised at the crowded streets, but remembered that Christmas was fast approaching. He made a mental note to stop by Diagon Ally sometime next week as he drudged through the fresh snow to Gladrags Wizard Wear.
Inside the shop, Harry quickly found Ginny’s cloak. Soft to the touch and made of warm cashmere, he imagined how beautiful Ginny would look wearing it. Looking around for the store clerk, he found a pair of unusual socks that Dobby the house elf would simply love. One was blue with yellow ducks that actually quack when you walk. The other was brown with green frogs that croak. Smiling, Harry placed the socks and cloak on the counter and waited to complete his purchase.
“I look ridiculous!” spat Draco Malfoy.
“It’s the least conspicuous pair of dress robes here,” replied Tom.
“It’s got a bloody bow tie!”
“I am going to buy it and you will wear it.”
“I still don’t understand why I have to go…”
“You have to go because you are my teacher. I need you to be my representative before society.”
“I’m not your keeper; remember that. And I don’t give a damn about muggle society!”
“Just wear the blasted thing! Tom began to loose his temper.
Nearby Harry couldn’t contain a laugh. Hearing the entire argument, he walked over to Draco Malfoy and Tom Durgan.
“Nice look, Malfoy.”
"Shove off, Potter!” spat Malfoy.
“You could petition for a position as Muggle liaison in that attire. You’ll definitely get the votes of the elders.”
“I’m warning you, Potter!”
“I see you have a new playmate,” replied Harry taking notice of Tom. Looking into his eyes, Harry felt an unusual pang in his forehead. Taken aback slightly, Harry rubbed his head.
“What’s the matter, Potter? You know they have a whole ward in St. Mungo’s for addled minds,” laughed Malfoy.
“You need some new material there, mate,” replied Harry. “So, who’s your friend?”
“My name’s Tom Durgan. I saw you at Hogwarts earlier in the year.”
“So why are you out of school?”
“Nosey much,” Tom said. “If you must know, I’ve taken a leave from school for reasons I don’t feel are necessary to share.”
“His mum died,” offered Malfoy.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So I assume you’ve tracked me down to discuss my father attacking me at Snape’s.”
“I heard about that,” answered Harry. “But no, that’s not why I’m here. Besides, once we got wind of his actions, Aurors were dispatched immediately, but he vanished.”
“I thought you actually wanted to find him,” said Malfoy, looking positively sour.
“I’m doing…”
“No, Potter. While you’re here bothering me, you could be looking for him.”
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when the sales witch came to Draco and Tom with an armful of dress robes.
“I’ve brought the entire stock.”
“That won’t be necessary; I’ll take these” Malfoy gave one last nasty glance at Harry and walked away. Tom paid the witch with a handful of gold and gazed into Harry’s green eyes.
“Did I know your mum?”
“No,” Tom replied. “Good day, Mr. Potter. May you find whatever it is you are looking for.”
“Very well,” said the sales witch. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“I just need to pay for a few items at the counter.”
“Follow me,” she said walking towards the counter as Harry followed. “That will be nine galleons and two sickles.”
Harry placed the gold on the counter, taking his package and left for The Three Broomsticks.
****
Remus Lupin was sitting at a table in the far corner of the pub nursing a small firewhisky. Spotting him at once, Harry walked over to the table and placed his packages on the seat next to him.
“How are you, Harry?”
“I’m doing well, Lupin. And you?”
Lupin waved his hand nonchalantly, “Thank you for meeting me.”
“No problem. So what have you heard?”
“Not here, Harry. I’ve asked Rosmerta to lend us a private booth for this discussion.”
“That bad?” asked Harry as he was getting his belongings to follow Lupin.
“I’m afraid I have no good news for you.”
Lupin led them into the very same room he spoke to Fudge in many years ago. “Harry, I’ve been digging up as much information I can. And I can tell you I’ve learned of something that you’re not going to like.”
“Go on then.”
“Harry, before Voldemort died he left a map of sorts in Lucius Malfoy’s possession.”
“I’ve heard about that. Draco sold it.”
“Yes, he did. But the properties of this map… well, let’s just say if this gets into the wrong hands, it could be a catastrophe. Slytherin himself wrote it. From what I heard, the map leads you to a book and this book holds all of his secrets.”
“So the map’s more or less a treasure map.”
“Yes and no. This map leads to the oldest and most accurate collection of the darkest, most vile spells and potions known to wizard kind. All invented by Slytherin himself. Voldemort discovered this map late in his life. Knowing there was a possibility he would never get to work the map, he left it for Lucius to keep in hopes Lucius would solve it. Harry, Voldemort also placed a very powerful spell on this item. Whoever beholds the map, beholds the memory and very essence of Voldemort.”
“You’re not saying it is a hor…”
“No, Harry. You killed Voldemort. There’s nothing left of him. What I am saying is he placed his mind into this map. I’m afraid whoever has it, has what Voldemort left behind.”
“So I have to find the map, then.”
“Yes, Harry. You do. Remember, this map in the wrong hands can possibly lead to the end of the world as we know it.”
“I know what I must do.”
“Do you?”
“I find Malfoy, I find the map.”
“Or, the other way round.”
“That too,”
“Harry, there’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Go on then.”
“There’s a double agent, if you will, a spy working in the Ministry. I don’t know if he’s imperiused, or wilfully working, but be careful. You can’t trust anyone in your department. My sources say he has a fair bit of rank.”
“Very well, thank you, Lupin,” replied Harry. “I think I know what to do.”
“Good luck, Harry,” said Lupin. “I’ll continue to dig up information.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, if you will forgive me, I must get back home before Tonks has my head.”
“I need to get home too. Something tells me Ginny’s had a rough day.”
The two shook hands and Lupin gave a fatherly pat on Harry’s back before both men disappeared.
****
Tom snuck into the Hog’s Head Inn. Careful that nobody saw him, he quickly gathered his precious map and other items he found to help him brew the potion. Checking the time on his watch, Tom was quick to get back to Malfoy.
And as always, your comments, questions, etc.. are always welcomed here. Thanks for reading.
Chapter 20:
Harry,
I have some information that will be useful to your investigation. Please meet me at The Three Broomsticks at exactly four o’clock this afternoon.
Yours Sincerely,
Remus Lupin
Harry reread the letter Lupin sent him earlier that morning, wondering what news he was able to dig up on the escaped prisoners. Scratching his head, Harry grew tired. Every trail that seemed to point to Lucius Malfoy turned cold. Realizing he had not yet told Ginny he would be late this evening, he opened the top drawer of his desk and reached for a gold mirror. Looking into his reflection, he said “Ginny.”
“Yes, Harry?” asked Ginny.
“How is your day going?”
“Well, the twins seem to think it funny to throw snowballs at poor old Crookshanks.”
“Hermione’s there?”
“Yes. She came by an hour ago,” Ginny sighed. “She’s a wreck, Harry. She and Ron just keep bickering and this last row… Harry, I don’t think she can take much more of it.”
“Perhaps I should just go and kick Ron in the …”
“Harry,”
“I know.”
“When will you be home?”
Harry sighed, “That’s why I’m calling. I’ll be late tonight. Lupin wrote me this morning; he has news for me about…”
“Harry, dear, I’m sorry… Lillian Potter! How did you ever…. Harry, I have to go… Lillian’s got herself frozen to a tree…”
Harry couldn’t help but to laugh. Those children were always getting into some kind of mischief. Replacing the mirror in the top drawer, Harry decided it was best to get out for a while. A walk through Hogsmeade might be nice, he thought, remembering Ginny talk about an ivory cloak in Gladrags Wizard Wear. I think I’ll surprise her with it.
Harry got up from his desk, gave a large stretch, and headed towards the Apparition point off the Atrium. Closing his eyes, he reopened them in Hogsmeade.
The village of Hogsmeade was usually quiet in the absence of Hogwarts students. Harry was somewhat surprised at the crowded streets, but remembered that Christmas was fast approaching. He made a mental note to stop by Diagon Ally sometime next week as he drudged through the fresh snow to Gladrags Wizard Wear.
Inside the shop, Harry quickly found Ginny’s cloak. Soft to the touch and made of warm cashmere, he imagined how beautiful Ginny would look wearing it. Looking around for the store clerk, he found a pair of unusual socks that Dobby the house elf would simply love. One was blue with yellow ducks that actually quack when you walk. The other was brown with green frogs that croak. Smiling, Harry placed the socks and cloak on the counter and waited to complete his purchase.
“I look ridiculous!” spat Draco Malfoy.
“It’s the least conspicuous pair of dress robes here,” replied Tom.
“It’s got a bloody bow tie!”
“I am going to buy it and you will wear it.”
“I still don’t understand why I have to go…”
“You have to go because you are my teacher. I need you to be my representative before society.”
“I’m not your keeper; remember that. And I don’t give a damn about muggle society!”
“Just wear the blasted thing! Tom began to loose his temper.
Nearby Harry couldn’t contain a laugh. Hearing the entire argument, he walked over to Draco Malfoy and Tom Durgan.
“Nice look, Malfoy.”
"Shove off, Potter!” spat Malfoy.
“You could petition for a position as Muggle liaison in that attire. You’ll definitely get the votes of the elders.”
“I’m warning you, Potter!”
“I see you have a new playmate,” replied Harry taking notice of Tom. Looking into his eyes, Harry felt an unusual pang in his forehead. Taken aback slightly, Harry rubbed his head.
“What’s the matter, Potter? You know they have a whole ward in St. Mungo’s for addled minds,” laughed Malfoy.
“You need some new material there, mate,” replied Harry. “So, who’s your friend?”
“My name’s Tom Durgan. I saw you at Hogwarts earlier in the year.”
“So why are you out of school?”
“Nosey much,” Tom said. “If you must know, I’ve taken a leave from school for reasons I don’t feel are necessary to share.”
“His mum died,” offered Malfoy.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So I assume you’ve tracked me down to discuss my father attacking me at Snape’s.”
“I heard about that,” answered Harry. “But no, that’s not why I’m here. Besides, once we got wind of his actions, Aurors were dispatched immediately, but he vanished.”
“I thought you actually wanted to find him,” said Malfoy, looking positively sour.
“I’m doing…”
“No, Potter. While you’re here bothering me, you could be looking for him.”
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when the sales witch came to Draco and Tom with an armful of dress robes.
“I’ve brought the entire stock.”
“That won’t be necessary; I’ll take these” Malfoy gave one last nasty glance at Harry and walked away. Tom paid the witch with a handful of gold and gazed into Harry’s green eyes.
“Did I know your mum?”
“No,” Tom replied. “Good day, Mr. Potter. May you find whatever it is you are looking for.”
“Very well,” said the sales witch. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“I just need to pay for a few items at the counter.”
“Follow me,” she said walking towards the counter as Harry followed. “That will be nine galleons and two sickles.”
Harry placed the gold on the counter, taking his package and left for The Three Broomsticks.
****
Remus Lupin was sitting at a table in the far corner of the pub nursing a small firewhisky. Spotting him at once, Harry walked over to the table and placed his packages on the seat next to him.
“How are you, Harry?”
“I’m doing well, Lupin. And you?”
Lupin waved his hand nonchalantly, “Thank you for meeting me.”
“No problem. So what have you heard?”
“Not here, Harry. I’ve asked Rosmerta to lend us a private booth for this discussion.”
“That bad?” asked Harry as he was getting his belongings to follow Lupin.
“I’m afraid I have no good news for you.”
Lupin led them into the very same room he spoke to Fudge in many years ago. “Harry, I’ve been digging up as much information I can. And I can tell you I’ve learned of something that you’re not going to like.”
“Go on then.”
“Harry, before Voldemort died he left a map of sorts in Lucius Malfoy’s possession.”
“I’ve heard about that. Draco sold it.”
“Yes, he did. But the properties of this map… well, let’s just say if this gets into the wrong hands, it could be a catastrophe. Slytherin himself wrote it. From what I heard, the map leads you to a book and this book holds all of his secrets.”
“So the map’s more or less a treasure map.”
“Yes and no. This map leads to the oldest and most accurate collection of the darkest, most vile spells and potions known to wizard kind. All invented by Slytherin himself. Voldemort discovered this map late in his life. Knowing there was a possibility he would never get to work the map, he left it for Lucius to keep in hopes Lucius would solve it. Harry, Voldemort also placed a very powerful spell on this item. Whoever beholds the map, beholds the memory and very essence of Voldemort.”
“You’re not saying it is a hor…”
“No, Harry. You killed Voldemort. There’s nothing left of him. What I am saying is he placed his mind into this map. I’m afraid whoever has it, has what Voldemort left behind.”
“So I have to find the map, then.”
“Yes, Harry. You do. Remember, this map in the wrong hands can possibly lead to the end of the world as we know it.”
“I know what I must do.”
“Do you?”
“I find Malfoy, I find the map.”
“Or, the other way round.”
“That too,”
“Harry, there’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Go on then.”
“There’s a double agent, if you will, a spy working in the Ministry. I don’t know if he’s imperiused, or wilfully working, but be careful. You can’t trust anyone in your department. My sources say he has a fair bit of rank.”
“Very well, thank you, Lupin,” replied Harry. “I think I know what to do.”
“Good luck, Harry,” said Lupin. “I’ll continue to dig up information.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, if you will forgive me, I must get back home before Tonks has my head.”
“I need to get home too. Something tells me Ginny’s had a rough day.”
The two shook hands and Lupin gave a fatherly pat on Harry’s back before both men disappeared.
****
Tom snuck into the Hog’s Head Inn. Careful that nobody saw him, he quickly gathered his precious map and other items he found to help him brew the potion. Checking the time on his watch, Tom was quick to get back to Malfoy.
And as always, your comments, questions, etc.. are always welcomed here. Thanks for reading.
And now Chapter 21
He sat in the centre of a windowless room. It was empty and void of all life; the small fireplace crackled as the flames began to die. The man rocked back and forth, only pausing every few moments to glance into the fire.
“I can’t…I can’t… I can’t…” he repeated.
The fire began to glow bright green as a voice rang into the man’s ears.
“You must.”
“But I can’t. It would mean…”
“It would mean the success of our plan. Potter is in the way.”
“But he still doesn’t know.”
“He is close to finding out. We cannot fail! Consequences most dire will unfold should we falter.”
“There must be another way.”
“There is no other way,” said the voice. “Potter must be killed. Remember, your life depends upon it.”
The fire dimmed to nothingness as the man resumed his rocking. Trapped inside his own prison, he knew only the voice inside his head telling him what he must do.
“Kill Harry Potter… Kill Harry Potter… Kill Harry Potter…” he began to chant, ignoring the knocks on the door.
Barging into the cold darkness, a portly man holding a green bowler hat stood in the doorway.
“I was told I could find you here,” said Fudge.
“What do you want?”
“What are you doing down here? And look at yourself, old man. You look like death.”
“What do you want, Fudge?”
“Why don’t I start a fire, then we’ll talk.” Fudge pointed his wand at the empty grate, but the man leapt in front of him.
“No!”
“Good man, I don’t understand.”
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“They told me you were mad. I didn’t believe it; told them it was the stress of the job. But look at you. Perhaps we should call…”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT, FUDGE?” he roared.
“I want to know what it is you are doing. You have escaped prisoners, but you don’t know where. You want it kept quiet, but you’re doing nothing to find them. The Ministry is worried; quite frankly, so am I.”
Turning around slowly, he scratched his head. “I have Potter on the case.”
“That’s not what I heard. I was told you pulled him off it.”
“You know as well as I do Potter does as he pleases.”
“Yes. Well…”
“Well, he’s working on it, just in his own confidence.”
“Don’t you think the Ministry should make a statement? The rumours…”
Looking Fudge dead in the eyes, he said, “No.”
“This could lose you your seat.”
“I am not worried about my petty seat. This is greater power to conquer.”
“You know, old man, I really do believe you’re mad,” Fudge said, turning around to leave, his hand on the skull-shaped doorknob.
The man watched as his predecessor left his dungeon. Taking in a deep breath, he knew how he must carry out his plan.
**
Seeking warmth in The Three Broomsticks, Draco Malfoy found an empty table near the bar. Eyeing a pretty, young bar maid, he ordered a Firewhisky.
“What’s your name?”
“Elle,” the girl giggled; putting the drink on the table.
“I’m Draco, Draco Malfoy.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Malfoy.”
Waving his hand he replied, “Draco will do. So how long have you worked here?”
“Well, Madam Rosmerta hired me during the summer. I just finished Hogwarts, and I didn’t earn enough N.E.W.T.S. for healing.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Quickly changing the subject, Elle leaned a bit closer to Draco and said, “You’ll never believe who was just here.”
“Who? Cormac McLaggen?”
“No. Harry Potter,” she whispered.
“Is that so,” he replied sourly.
Elle nodded, unable to stop blushing. Finishing his drink in one goes, Draco asked for another.
Elle returned with the second drink quickly, inviting herself to a vacant seat at the table. Draco turned to face her straight in the eyes. Trying hard to keep his contempt at bay, he smirked.
“You know I went to school with Potter.”
Seeing her eyes grow wide, Draco continued. “Yes. And let me tell you something about famous Harry Potter. He’s nothing more than a mediocre, half-blood who barely scrapes by on his own. He couldn’t do anything with out his sidekicks. Not in school, not now.”
“But everything he’s done…”
“Everything he’s done… yeah. Let’s look at that. It was all a matter of luck or chance or help from smarter people. Do you honestly think he’s had to fight a battle on his own?”
“But…”
“No! He always had help, or somebody else did the dirty work. He never had to feel, to endure the wrath of the Dark Lord. He’s never been seconds away from being killed. He got to move on, live life while others have been reduced to…”
“Please forgive my friend here. Too much drink seems to go to his head,” said Tom Durgan coolly, appearing at the table. “Isn’t that right?”
“Shove off, Durgan!”
“See what I mean,” Tom smiled, looking at Elle.
“I… I have to get back to work…” she replied, unable to look at Tom, eager to get away.
“She is a good girl that one, so? What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? And what took you? You said you were buying candy; I don’t see any Honeydukes packages.”
“I decided I didn’t want candy.”
“What’s that?” Draco pointed to a plant some other items Tom laid out on the table.
“Oh. That… just some items I found that would go well for a potion I’m working on.”
“For school?”
“Well, yes, Of course for school. It’s illegal for me to do non-school related potions. My, my, Draco, I’m beginning to believe you don’t trust me.”
Draco snorted, finishing his second drink,
“So may I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“Well, I’ll ask another; why all the animosity between you and Mr. Potter?”
“He’s a git.”
“Yes, but I’m sure loads of people are gits, and I don’t see you lose it when they are mentioned.”
“Bad blood is all.”
“I see,” Tom said silkily. Surveying Draco, he gained sight of his arm; barely visible was the remains of a skull and snake. “What was it like?”
“What was what like?”
“Facing Him?”
Realizing his sleeve was exposing his arm, he quickly drew his arm under the table. “Why are you so curious?”
Tom shrugged.
“Do you really want to know? Do you really want to know what it feels like knowing you’re a moments away from death or pain, or destruction at any moment? Do you really want to know what it looks like to see your comrades die before you? Facing Him was your worst fear come to life.”
“Then why did you go into service?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. I was just a little older than you and I was needed.”
“You could have refused.”
“Refuse the Dark Lord? I wouldn’t be sitting here today.”
“How much do you know about Him?”
“What’s there to know really? Why do you ask?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve read all I could, but it’s all the same, his rise to power; and his destruction. Then there’s Harry Potter.”
“Yeah, well, Potter’s not even half the wizard Snape is.”
“You must be very fond of Snape.”
“He saved my life and Harry’s. Though you see how grateful he is for that.”
“I don’t like Potter myself.”
“Well, then I am in good company after all.”
“And I’m not so sure I agree with the Dark Lord either.”
“Then good thing he’s gone.”
“He’s not gone; not really. Sometimes I feel as if I know him. Sometimes I feel…”
Draco gazed at Tom, unsure of what to say, or if he should say anything. There was something strange about this kid. Draco began to feel uneasy and rubbed his arm, almost checking to see if would burn at any moment.
Tom was unaffected by Draco’s unease. “I would have done things differently.”
“How so?” Draco barely managed to get the words out of his mouth.
“The Dark Lord grew sloppy towards the end. He was predictable. And to involve muggles was plain ignorant. He went more for show than an actual plan. If it were me, well, I would have kept it underground. I wouldn’t have let the Ministry or the Order know what I was doing.”
“Everyone has their spies.”
“Yes, but not everyone has the information.”
“He worked in secret. Only told privileged servants his plans and only if it affected their orders.”
“Yes, but see, that’s where he failed. Tell nobody. Leave them guessing. Imperious them so they haven’t a clue what they are doing.”
“Again, wizards can fight the Imperious Curse.”
“There are other ways…”
“You’ve given this much thought, have you?”
“Not really. I just know.”
“Well look out world, we may have Tom Durgan to fear,” laughed Draco Malfoy, patting Tom on the shoulder. “Thanks mate, I needed a good laugh.”
“I’m glad I could amuse you,” Tom said coolly, glaring at Draco. “Well, I would like to get started on this potion, so let’s get out of here.”
Still laughing, Draco stood up and allowed Tom to lead the way outside. Halfway down the street, Tom grabbed hold of Draco’s arm and the Disapparated to Durgan Acres.
And of course, if you'd like to leave any comments, questions or criticism, you may do so right here. Thanks for reading!
He sat in the centre of a windowless room. It was empty and void of all life; the small fireplace crackled as the flames began to die. The man rocked back and forth, only pausing every few moments to glance into the fire.
“I can’t…I can’t… I can’t…” he repeated.
The fire began to glow bright green as a voice rang into the man’s ears.
“You must.”
“But I can’t. It would mean…”
“It would mean the success of our plan. Potter is in the way.”
“But he still doesn’t know.”
“He is close to finding out. We cannot fail! Consequences most dire will unfold should we falter.”
“There must be another way.”
“There is no other way,” said the voice. “Potter must be killed. Remember, your life depends upon it.”
The fire dimmed to nothingness as the man resumed his rocking. Trapped inside his own prison, he knew only the voice inside his head telling him what he must do.
“Kill Harry Potter… Kill Harry Potter… Kill Harry Potter…” he began to chant, ignoring the knocks on the door.
Barging into the cold darkness, a portly man holding a green bowler hat stood in the doorway.
“I was told I could find you here,” said Fudge.
“What do you want?”
“What are you doing down here? And look at yourself, old man. You look like death.”
“What do you want, Fudge?”
“Why don’t I start a fire, then we’ll talk.” Fudge pointed his wand at the empty grate, but the man leapt in front of him.
“No!”
“Good man, I don’t understand.”
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“They told me you were mad. I didn’t believe it; told them it was the stress of the job. But look at you. Perhaps we should call…”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT, FUDGE?” he roared.
“I want to know what it is you are doing. You have escaped prisoners, but you don’t know where. You want it kept quiet, but you’re doing nothing to find them. The Ministry is worried; quite frankly, so am I.”
Turning around slowly, he scratched his head. “I have Potter on the case.”
“That’s not what I heard. I was told you pulled him off it.”
“You know as well as I do Potter does as he pleases.”
“Yes. Well…”
“Well, he’s working on it, just in his own confidence.”
“Don’t you think the Ministry should make a statement? The rumours…”
Looking Fudge dead in the eyes, he said, “No.”
“This could lose you your seat.”
“I am not worried about my petty seat. This is greater power to conquer.”
“You know, old man, I really do believe you’re mad,” Fudge said, turning around to leave, his hand on the skull-shaped doorknob.
The man watched as his predecessor left his dungeon. Taking in a deep breath, he knew how he must carry out his plan.
**
Seeking warmth in The Three Broomsticks, Draco Malfoy found an empty table near the bar. Eyeing a pretty, young bar maid, he ordered a Firewhisky.
“What’s your name?”
“Elle,” the girl giggled; putting the drink on the table.
“I’m Draco, Draco Malfoy.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Malfoy.”
Waving his hand he replied, “Draco will do. So how long have you worked here?”
“Well, Madam Rosmerta hired me during the summer. I just finished Hogwarts, and I didn’t earn enough N.E.W.T.S. for healing.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Quickly changing the subject, Elle leaned a bit closer to Draco and said, “You’ll never believe who was just here.”
“Who? Cormac McLaggen?”
“No. Harry Potter,” she whispered.
“Is that so,” he replied sourly.
Elle nodded, unable to stop blushing. Finishing his drink in one goes, Draco asked for another.
Elle returned with the second drink quickly, inviting herself to a vacant seat at the table. Draco turned to face her straight in the eyes. Trying hard to keep his contempt at bay, he smirked.
“You know I went to school with Potter.”
Seeing her eyes grow wide, Draco continued. “Yes. And let me tell you something about famous Harry Potter. He’s nothing more than a mediocre, half-blood who barely scrapes by on his own. He couldn’t do anything with out his sidekicks. Not in school, not now.”
“But everything he’s done…”
“Everything he’s done… yeah. Let’s look at that. It was all a matter of luck or chance or help from smarter people. Do you honestly think he’s had to fight a battle on his own?”
“But…”
“No! He always had help, or somebody else did the dirty work. He never had to feel, to endure the wrath of the Dark Lord. He’s never been seconds away from being killed. He got to move on, live life while others have been reduced to…”
“Please forgive my friend here. Too much drink seems to go to his head,” said Tom Durgan coolly, appearing at the table. “Isn’t that right?”
“Shove off, Durgan!”
“See what I mean,” Tom smiled, looking at Elle.
“I… I have to get back to work…” she replied, unable to look at Tom, eager to get away.
“She is a good girl that one, so? What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? And what took you? You said you were buying candy; I don’t see any Honeydukes packages.”
“I decided I didn’t want candy.”
“What’s that?” Draco pointed to a plant some other items Tom laid out on the table.
“Oh. That… just some items I found that would go well for a potion I’m working on.”
“For school?”
“Well, yes, Of course for school. It’s illegal for me to do non-school related potions. My, my, Draco, I’m beginning to believe you don’t trust me.”
Draco snorted, finishing his second drink,
“So may I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“Well, I’ll ask another; why all the animosity between you and Mr. Potter?”
“He’s a git.”
“Yes, but I’m sure loads of people are gits, and I don’t see you lose it when they are mentioned.”
“Bad blood is all.”
“I see,” Tom said silkily. Surveying Draco, he gained sight of his arm; barely visible was the remains of a skull and snake. “What was it like?”
“What was what like?”
“Facing Him?”
Realizing his sleeve was exposing his arm, he quickly drew his arm under the table. “Why are you so curious?”
Tom shrugged.
“Do you really want to know? Do you really want to know what it feels like knowing you’re a moments away from death or pain, or destruction at any moment? Do you really want to know what it looks like to see your comrades die before you? Facing Him was your worst fear come to life.”
“Then why did you go into service?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. I was just a little older than you and I was needed.”
“You could have refused.”
“Refuse the Dark Lord? I wouldn’t be sitting here today.”
“How much do you know about Him?”
“What’s there to know really? Why do you ask?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve read all I could, but it’s all the same, his rise to power; and his destruction. Then there’s Harry Potter.”
“Yeah, well, Potter’s not even half the wizard Snape is.”
“You must be very fond of Snape.”
“He saved my life and Harry’s. Though you see how grateful he is for that.”
“I don’t like Potter myself.”
“Well, then I am in good company after all.”
“And I’m not so sure I agree with the Dark Lord either.”
“Then good thing he’s gone.”
“He’s not gone; not really. Sometimes I feel as if I know him. Sometimes I feel…”
Draco gazed at Tom, unsure of what to say, or if he should say anything. There was something strange about this kid. Draco began to feel uneasy and rubbed his arm, almost checking to see if would burn at any moment.
Tom was unaffected by Draco’s unease. “I would have done things differently.”
“How so?” Draco barely managed to get the words out of his mouth.
“The Dark Lord grew sloppy towards the end. He was predictable. And to involve muggles was plain ignorant. He went more for show than an actual plan. If it were me, well, I would have kept it underground. I wouldn’t have let the Ministry or the Order know what I was doing.”
“Everyone has their spies.”
“Yes, but not everyone has the information.”
“He worked in secret. Only told privileged servants his plans and only if it affected their orders.”
“Yes, but see, that’s where he failed. Tell nobody. Leave them guessing. Imperious them so they haven’t a clue what they are doing.”
“Again, wizards can fight the Imperious Curse.”
“There are other ways…”
“You’ve given this much thought, have you?”
“Not really. I just know.”
“Well look out world, we may have Tom Durgan to fear,” laughed Draco Malfoy, patting Tom on the shoulder. “Thanks mate, I needed a good laugh.”
“I’m glad I could amuse you,” Tom said coolly, glaring at Draco. “Well, I would like to get started on this potion, so let’s get out of here.”
Still laughing, Draco stood up and allowed Tom to lead the way outside. Halfway down the street, Tom grabbed hold of Draco’s arm and the Disapparated to Durgan Acres.
And of course, if you'd like to leave any comments, questions or criticism, you may do so right here. Thanks for reading!
Well, here goes
Chapter 22:
With a crack, Tom and Draco arrived in the back garden of Durgan Acres. Snow was falling and only white was visible. Sinking into the snow, the two hurried to the house. Forcing their legs up to step against strong winds and deep sludge, they doubled their efforts. Fifty paces away from the door, the snow was nearly up to their knees.
“Why didn’t you apparate us inside?” shouted Tom.
The wind howled over Tom’s voice; Draco heard nothing.
“I said why didn’t you apparate us inside the house?”
Draco turned his head, noticing Tom’s mouth moving, but heard nothing. “What?”
“I said... oh this is pathetic." Tom Durgan reached in his pocket for his wand. “Detineo Tempestas!” Tom muttered, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. With a complex twist, and wave, the wind grew quiet and the snowfall paused.
“How did you…”
“Never mind that now; it doesn’t last long, so let’s get inside.”
Shaking his head in agreement, the two quickly reached the door. Falling inside the house, the wind began to howl and roar once again, blowing the door shut.
“You mind telling me how you knew that spell?” Draco demanded.
“I read it in a book,” shrugged Tom.
“That spell… that’s not something they teach at Hogwarts!”
“Yes, and I think you’ll agree, that they do not teach many useful spells at Hogwarts. Much of the magic I can do I had to teach myself.”
“And where do you get the books?” Draco eyed Tom curiously. “I know for a fact they don’t have books in the restricted section that teach you how to control the elements like that.”
“You just have to know where to look,” Tom smirked.
Draco mumbled something under his breath while walking over to the fireplace. A small tap on the logs and roaring flames danced merrily in the grate. “Why don’t you put on a pot of water.”
“What for?”
“Because I could do with a cup of tea! It’s bloody cold and I’m near frozen.”
Making sure Draco was busy tending to the fire, Tom took out his wand once more, flicked his wrist, and a boiling kettle of water appeared on the stove. “Water’s ready.”
“Wha…?” Draco looked up. “Oh. Excellent!”
“Is there anything else?”
“Don’t you want a cup?”
“No. I’m fine. I’m actually going to get started on some homework.”
“Oh. All right then.” Draco said, adding sugar to his cup.
Tom slipped away downstairs into the cellar; his map and necessary items from the Hogs Head in one hand, his wand in the other. Locking the door, he carefully placed all his ingredients on a table and looked over the map and key once more. I still need a scarab beetle. Walking back over to the stairwell, Tom took a few steps and listened intently for any sounds from Draco. The fool! He’ll be out for days if he drank more than one cup of tea. Tom laughed to himself while returning to the table. With a wave of his wand, a dead scarab beetle appeared on the table. Frowning, Tom thought to himself, it was only supposed to be a head. Another jab of the wand and the beetle’s head severed itself from the body, landing limply on the table with a slight thud. That’s better, Tom smiled, pleased with the clean cut. Gently picking up the head, he placed it lovingly inside a jar and made the body vanished into thin air. Now let’s see what this will do. Tom smirked, bending down beside his cauldron to ignite a few logs beneath.
******
Godric’s Hallow was simply lovely during the winter. White snow blanketed the rooftops and branches as fragile flakes fell from the heavens. Harry loved everything about Godric’s Hollow; standing before his home, he felt a wave of happiness overcome him. Smoke cheerfully billowing out the chimney, the inviting warmth, and the loving smiles awaiting him inside, Harry smiled to himself, unable to imagine anything ruining this moment. Standing in front of the door he realized he had the package from Gladrags in his arm. Deciding it would be best to wait for Christmas to give Ginny her gift; it vanished with a quick wave of his wand, and opened the door.
“Ginny dear,” Harry called.
“In here, Harry.” Ginny called from beyond the kitchen.
Smiling, Harry walked through his house into a cosy den where the twins were tossing a ball of yarn back and forth on the floor as Crookshanks kept an eager watch. Hermione sat nearest the fireplace with Ginny next to her, both nursing a cup of hot cocoa.
“Hello, Hermione, Ginny.” Harry smiled, and walked over to give his wife a kiss.
“How was your day, Harry?” Ginny asked, smiling, at the sight of her husband.
“Not bad. Got some interesting news from Lupin today.”
“How is Lupin, and Tonks?” Hermione asked.
“They’re all doing well. I’ll talk a bit more of it a little later,” Harry smiled, nodding his head in the direction of the twins. “I’m starved.”
“There’s some stew left in the pot, Harry.” Ginny said finishing her cocoa as Harry disappeared into the kitchen. “All right you two; let’s get you ready for bed.”
“But mummy, I’m not tired.”
“Do we have to?”
“Yes. It’s getting late and little boys and girls need their rest.”
Harry returned to the den with a large bowl of stew and plopped down on the floor next to James. Crookshanks lazily walked over to sniff Harry’s dish and stole a chunk of meat.
“Hey! That’s my dinner,” said Harry, patting him on the head.
“But Mummy, look!” Lillian said, putting her fingers to her eyes, “I don’t even have sleepy eyes.”
“Couldn’t we have 20-10 more minutes? Please,” James begged.
“I tell you what,” said Harry, swallowing a large bite of potato and carrot, “you two go and get ready for bed, and I’ll be up shortly to tuck you in.”
“Oh alright,” sighed Lillian. “But take your time, Daddy.”
“Yes. And have seconds!” commanded James as he followed his sister up the stairs.
“So how’s S.P.E.W. going, Hermione?” Harry asked.
“Very well; membership is up and I think that people really do care about the welfare of our house-elves. Dobby accompanied me on my last trip to tell his horrible tale of enslavement.”
“That reminds me; I bought Dobby a present today while in Hogsmeade.”
“That was nice, Harry,” said Ginny. “Will you be going to Hogwarts soon?”
“’Oomaro,” Harry said through a mouth full of food.
“Harry, really, you’re as bad as…”
“Ron,” finished Hermione. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I want to settle down and have a family. But he can be so infuriating! Not to mention S.P.E.W. is really promoting change around the world. I couldn’t stop now.”
“I told Hermione that perhaps the two of them need a holiday. I think France would be lovely, don’t you, Harry? This way it gives them a chance to reconnect.”
Harry nodded, burying his head in his bowl to hide a slight laugh as he imagined Ron walking into an elegant establishment wearing his Chudley Cannons Quidditch Robes.
“But you know Ron. Can you honestly see him on a holiday in France?” Hermione sighed, thinking along the same lines as Harry. “All he would do is criticize the Quidditch team and complain about the food. You’ve seen him at Bill and Fleur’s house for dinner.”
“Hermione, stop worrying over it,” demanded Harry. “You’re in desperate need of a holiday, and so is Ron. If you don’t want to go to France, then don’t. There are other places in the world worth visiting. I’m sure Lupin and Tonks could recommend a few spots in Italy even, and I know Ron won’t go about complaining about the food there.”
“You’re right, Harry… both of you.”
“Hermione, why don’t you and Ron both come over tomorrow evening for dinner? We’ll have a party of sorts; I’ll bring the twins to my mum’s and the four of us will have a nice evening,” suggested Ginny.
“That’s fine,” Hermione yawned. “I think it would be nice. Harry, you can ask him to come over tomorrow.”
Harry nodded as he stood up and took a stretch. Placing the bowl on top of a near by table, he said, “Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I best go get the twins in bed.”
Harry left Ginny and Hermione alone, still talking about their plans for tomorrow. Shaking his head, he was thankful he didn’t need to be apart of that conversation.
In the doorway of the Twin’s bedroom, Harry called, “All right you lot, and it’s time for bed!” To Harry’s surprise, both James and Lillian were sound asleep in James’ bed. Picking Lillian up with care, Harry placed her in her own bed, kissed her on the cheek, and tapped a little blue orb to provide them enough light to keep away their fears. Back in the doorway, Harry took another look at his sleeping angels and closed the door.
Reaching the bottom step, Harry heard Ginny call, “So, are you going to tell us about your meeting with Lupin?”
“Let me walk into the room first,” Harry answered, walking into the cosy den and taking an empty seat by the fire.
“Yes, Harry, do tell,” nudged Hermione.
“Well, Lupin found out some helpful information about the case I’m working on. He’s been doing some investigations for me, since we all know how the Ministry is behaving these days. Lupin found out that Voldemort had a map.”
“What do you mean a map?” asked Hermione, trying to find some hidden meaning in the object.
“Well, a treasure map of some kind. I don’t know too much about that, but I do know that before his defeat, he somehow implanted his mind, his memories, his will, more or less, into this object. He left in Lucius Malfoy’s possession last, which is why we feel he’s after Draco. I know Draco doesn’t have it; now I just have to find it before Malfoy does or it could be a complete catastrophe.”
“Harry,” whispered Hermione. “I… we… okay, first thing in the morning I’ll see what I can dig up on mysterious treasure maps. Once we gather a list, we can then see what Voldemort would want with them; if he wanted any of them at all… then all we have to do is locate it. That will be tricky, but magic leaves an imprint, like a fingerprint, so all we would have to do is track down the traces of Voldemort’s magic.”
“Hermione, do you even hear yourself?”
“Harry! I’m serious! You can’t do this alone.”
“An adventure might be what Ron needs too,” added Ginny. “Not to mention myself.”
“Look. I’m not going to argue with you two. So fine; Hermione, if you wouldn’t mind, go ahead and look into the maps. I’m going to Hogwarts tomorrow to have a chat with Dumbledore.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Hermione. “I bet the Hogwarts’ library is bound to have something.”
“Sounds good; we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
Hermione nodded, “Well then, I best get going. We have a big day ahead of us, and we’ll all need a good rest.”
“Good night,” called Ginny, looking at Harry.
“”Night,” replied Harry, as Hermione let herself out of the house. “So, the Twins are asleep, and it’s just you and me,” Harry smiled, kneeling next to Ginny, kissing her ever so gently.
“Harry, we need to talk about something.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Harry backed away a bit and looked Ginny in the face, “So let’s talk.”
“Harry, I know this probably isn’t the best time, but…”
“Go on then, spit it out,” Harry smiled, finding it amusing at how nervous Ginny was at that moment.
“Well, you know how I just said that I too could do with an adventure?”
“Yes. It was an all of ten minutes ago,” Harry smiled, resting his chin on Ginny’s knee.
“Well, this might be the last adventure I have for a while,” Ginny muttered, unable to look at Harry.
“And why is that, Ginny dear? I know the Twins are a bit of a handful, but they’ll be in school soon enough; there’s plenty of time for adventures. You married me, didn’t you?”
Ginny couldn’t help but to smile. “I said that because I’m going to have to wait even longer. Harry, we’re having another baby.
Shocked, Harry smiled and embraced Ginny, kissing her gently. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
“Ginny, that’s fantastic!”
“I figured we could celebrate tomorrow night.”
“Absolutely! You have no idea how happy you’ve just made me!” Harry gave Ginny another kiss before they retired to bed.
Harry opened his eyes, wakening with a start. Scrambling out of bed, he threw on his robe and ran into the Twin’s bedroom. James sat up in bed screaming.
“What’s wrong, James?” Harry asked, throwing his arms around his son in attempt to sooth him. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s here.”
“I saw a man, Daddy. An evil man; he came in my dream.”
“There, there. It was only a bad dream.”
“No, Daddy. He said he would take me and Lillian. Then he laughed at Me.”
“I’m not going to let anyone take you and Lillian away from me and your mum. Its okay, James. Why don’t you try and go back to sleep.”
“What if he comes back?”
“Then I’ll be right here to protect you,” Harry answered, pulling the blanket back over his son tightly. “I’ll stay right here with you.”
Harry didn’t go back to sleep; thoughts of what and who might be affecting his son. At that moment, he felt another twinge in his forehead. Standing before the window, Harry vowed he wouldn’t let anything happen to his family, even if meant his own life.
And this is a good breaking point I think. As always, any questions, comments and all that jazz here please. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 22:
With a crack, Tom and Draco arrived in the back garden of Durgan Acres. Snow was falling and only white was visible. Sinking into the snow, the two hurried to the house. Forcing their legs up to step against strong winds and deep sludge, they doubled their efforts. Fifty paces away from the door, the snow was nearly up to their knees.
“Why didn’t you apparate us inside?” shouted Tom.
The wind howled over Tom’s voice; Draco heard nothing.
“I said why didn’t you apparate us inside the house?”
Draco turned his head, noticing Tom’s mouth moving, but heard nothing. “What?”
“I said... oh this is pathetic." Tom Durgan reached in his pocket for his wand. “Detineo Tempestas!” Tom muttered, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. With a complex twist, and wave, the wind grew quiet and the snowfall paused.
“How did you…”
“Never mind that now; it doesn’t last long, so let’s get inside.”
Shaking his head in agreement, the two quickly reached the door. Falling inside the house, the wind began to howl and roar once again, blowing the door shut.
“You mind telling me how you knew that spell?” Draco demanded.
“I read it in a book,” shrugged Tom.
“That spell… that’s not something they teach at Hogwarts!”
“Yes, and I think you’ll agree, that they do not teach many useful spells at Hogwarts. Much of the magic I can do I had to teach myself.”
“And where do you get the books?” Draco eyed Tom curiously. “I know for a fact they don’t have books in the restricted section that teach you how to control the elements like that.”
“You just have to know where to look,” Tom smirked.
Draco mumbled something under his breath while walking over to the fireplace. A small tap on the logs and roaring flames danced merrily in the grate. “Why don’t you put on a pot of water.”
“What for?”
“Because I could do with a cup of tea! It’s bloody cold and I’m near frozen.”
Making sure Draco was busy tending to the fire, Tom took out his wand once more, flicked his wrist, and a boiling kettle of water appeared on the stove. “Water’s ready.”
“Wha…?” Draco looked up. “Oh. Excellent!”
“Is there anything else?”
“Don’t you want a cup?”
“No. I’m fine. I’m actually going to get started on some homework.”
“Oh. All right then.” Draco said, adding sugar to his cup.
Tom slipped away downstairs into the cellar; his map and necessary items from the Hogs Head in one hand, his wand in the other. Locking the door, he carefully placed all his ingredients on a table and looked over the map and key once more. I still need a scarab beetle. Walking back over to the stairwell, Tom took a few steps and listened intently for any sounds from Draco. The fool! He’ll be out for days if he drank more than one cup of tea. Tom laughed to himself while returning to the table. With a wave of his wand, a dead scarab beetle appeared on the table. Frowning, Tom thought to himself, it was only supposed to be a head. Another jab of the wand and the beetle’s head severed itself from the body, landing limply on the table with a slight thud. That’s better, Tom smiled, pleased with the clean cut. Gently picking up the head, he placed it lovingly inside a jar and made the body vanished into thin air. Now let’s see what this will do. Tom smirked, bending down beside his cauldron to ignite a few logs beneath.
******
Godric’s Hallow was simply lovely during the winter. White snow blanketed the rooftops and branches as fragile flakes fell from the heavens. Harry loved everything about Godric’s Hollow; standing before his home, he felt a wave of happiness overcome him. Smoke cheerfully billowing out the chimney, the inviting warmth, and the loving smiles awaiting him inside, Harry smiled to himself, unable to imagine anything ruining this moment. Standing in front of the door he realized he had the package from Gladrags in his arm. Deciding it would be best to wait for Christmas to give Ginny her gift; it vanished with a quick wave of his wand, and opened the door.
“Ginny dear,” Harry called.
“In here, Harry.” Ginny called from beyond the kitchen.
Smiling, Harry walked through his house into a cosy den where the twins were tossing a ball of yarn back and forth on the floor as Crookshanks kept an eager watch. Hermione sat nearest the fireplace with Ginny next to her, both nursing a cup of hot cocoa.
“Hello, Hermione, Ginny.” Harry smiled, and walked over to give his wife a kiss.
“How was your day, Harry?” Ginny asked, smiling, at the sight of her husband.
“Not bad. Got some interesting news from Lupin today.”
“How is Lupin, and Tonks?” Hermione asked.
“They’re all doing well. I’ll talk a bit more of it a little later,” Harry smiled, nodding his head in the direction of the twins. “I’m starved.”
“There’s some stew left in the pot, Harry.” Ginny said finishing her cocoa as Harry disappeared into the kitchen. “All right you two; let’s get you ready for bed.”
“But mummy, I’m not tired.”
“Do we have to?”
“Yes. It’s getting late and little boys and girls need their rest.”
Harry returned to the den with a large bowl of stew and plopped down on the floor next to James. Crookshanks lazily walked over to sniff Harry’s dish and stole a chunk of meat.
“Hey! That’s my dinner,” said Harry, patting him on the head.
“But Mummy, look!” Lillian said, putting her fingers to her eyes, “I don’t even have sleepy eyes.”
“Couldn’t we have 20-10 more minutes? Please,” James begged.
“I tell you what,” said Harry, swallowing a large bite of potato and carrot, “you two go and get ready for bed, and I’ll be up shortly to tuck you in.”
“Oh alright,” sighed Lillian. “But take your time, Daddy.”
“Yes. And have seconds!” commanded James as he followed his sister up the stairs.
“So how’s S.P.E.W. going, Hermione?” Harry asked.
“Very well; membership is up and I think that people really do care about the welfare of our house-elves. Dobby accompanied me on my last trip to tell his horrible tale of enslavement.”
“That reminds me; I bought Dobby a present today while in Hogsmeade.”
“That was nice, Harry,” said Ginny. “Will you be going to Hogwarts soon?”
“’Oomaro,” Harry said through a mouth full of food.
“Harry, really, you’re as bad as…”
“Ron,” finished Hermione. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I want to settle down and have a family. But he can be so infuriating! Not to mention S.P.E.W. is really promoting change around the world. I couldn’t stop now.”
“I told Hermione that perhaps the two of them need a holiday. I think France would be lovely, don’t you, Harry? This way it gives them a chance to reconnect.”
Harry nodded, burying his head in his bowl to hide a slight laugh as he imagined Ron walking into an elegant establishment wearing his Chudley Cannons Quidditch Robes.
“But you know Ron. Can you honestly see him on a holiday in France?” Hermione sighed, thinking along the same lines as Harry. “All he would do is criticize the Quidditch team and complain about the food. You’ve seen him at Bill and Fleur’s house for dinner.”
“Hermione, stop worrying over it,” demanded Harry. “You’re in desperate need of a holiday, and so is Ron. If you don’t want to go to France, then don’t. There are other places in the world worth visiting. I’m sure Lupin and Tonks could recommend a few spots in Italy even, and I know Ron won’t go about complaining about the food there.”
“You’re right, Harry… both of you.”
“Hermione, why don’t you and Ron both come over tomorrow evening for dinner? We’ll have a party of sorts; I’ll bring the twins to my mum’s and the four of us will have a nice evening,” suggested Ginny.
“That’s fine,” Hermione yawned. “I think it would be nice. Harry, you can ask him to come over tomorrow.”
Harry nodded as he stood up and took a stretch. Placing the bowl on top of a near by table, he said, “Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I best go get the twins in bed.”
Harry left Ginny and Hermione alone, still talking about their plans for tomorrow. Shaking his head, he was thankful he didn’t need to be apart of that conversation.
In the doorway of the Twin’s bedroom, Harry called, “All right you lot, and it’s time for bed!” To Harry’s surprise, both James and Lillian were sound asleep in James’ bed. Picking Lillian up with care, Harry placed her in her own bed, kissed her on the cheek, and tapped a little blue orb to provide them enough light to keep away their fears. Back in the doorway, Harry took another look at his sleeping angels and closed the door.
Reaching the bottom step, Harry heard Ginny call, “So, are you going to tell us about your meeting with Lupin?”
“Let me walk into the room first,” Harry answered, walking into the cosy den and taking an empty seat by the fire.
“Yes, Harry, do tell,” nudged Hermione.
“Well, Lupin found out some helpful information about the case I’m working on. He’s been doing some investigations for me, since we all know how the Ministry is behaving these days. Lupin found out that Voldemort had a map.”
“What do you mean a map?” asked Hermione, trying to find some hidden meaning in the object.
“Well, a treasure map of some kind. I don’t know too much about that, but I do know that before his defeat, he somehow implanted his mind, his memories, his will, more or less, into this object. He left in Lucius Malfoy’s possession last, which is why we feel he’s after Draco. I know Draco doesn’t have it; now I just have to find it before Malfoy does or it could be a complete catastrophe.”
“Harry,” whispered Hermione. “I… we… okay, first thing in the morning I’ll see what I can dig up on mysterious treasure maps. Once we gather a list, we can then see what Voldemort would want with them; if he wanted any of them at all… then all we have to do is locate it. That will be tricky, but magic leaves an imprint, like a fingerprint, so all we would have to do is track down the traces of Voldemort’s magic.”
“Hermione, do you even hear yourself?”
“Harry! I’m serious! You can’t do this alone.”
“An adventure might be what Ron needs too,” added Ginny. “Not to mention myself.”
“Look. I’m not going to argue with you two. So fine; Hermione, if you wouldn’t mind, go ahead and look into the maps. I’m going to Hogwarts tomorrow to have a chat with Dumbledore.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Hermione. “I bet the Hogwarts’ library is bound to have something.”
“Sounds good; we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
Hermione nodded, “Well then, I best get going. We have a big day ahead of us, and we’ll all need a good rest.”
“Good night,” called Ginny, looking at Harry.
“”Night,” replied Harry, as Hermione let herself out of the house. “So, the Twins are asleep, and it’s just you and me,” Harry smiled, kneeling next to Ginny, kissing her ever so gently.
“Harry, we need to talk about something.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Harry backed away a bit and looked Ginny in the face, “So let’s talk.”
“Harry, I know this probably isn’t the best time, but…”
“Go on then, spit it out,” Harry smiled, finding it amusing at how nervous Ginny was at that moment.
“Well, you know how I just said that I too could do with an adventure?”
“Yes. It was an all of ten minutes ago,” Harry smiled, resting his chin on Ginny’s knee.
“Well, this might be the last adventure I have for a while,” Ginny muttered, unable to look at Harry.
“And why is that, Ginny dear? I know the Twins are a bit of a handful, but they’ll be in school soon enough; there’s plenty of time for adventures. You married me, didn’t you?”
Ginny couldn’t help but to smile. “I said that because I’m going to have to wait even longer. Harry, we’re having another baby.
Shocked, Harry smiled and embraced Ginny, kissing her gently. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
“Ginny, that’s fantastic!”
“I figured we could celebrate tomorrow night.”
“Absolutely! You have no idea how happy you’ve just made me!” Harry gave Ginny another kiss before they retired to bed.
Harry opened his eyes, wakening with a start. Scrambling out of bed, he threw on his robe and ran into the Twin’s bedroom. James sat up in bed screaming.
“What’s wrong, James?” Harry asked, throwing his arms around his son in attempt to sooth him. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s here.”
“I saw a man, Daddy. An evil man; he came in my dream.”
“There, there. It was only a bad dream.”
“No, Daddy. He said he would take me and Lillian. Then he laughed at Me.”
“I’m not going to let anyone take you and Lillian away from me and your mum. Its okay, James. Why don’t you try and go back to sleep.”
“What if he comes back?”
“Then I’ll be right here to protect you,” Harry answered, pulling the blanket back over his son tightly. “I’ll stay right here with you.”
Harry didn’t go back to sleep; thoughts of what and who might be affecting his son. At that moment, he felt another twinge in his forehead. Standing before the window, Harry vowed he wouldn’t let anything happen to his family, even if meant his own life.
*******
And this is a good breaking point I think.
As always, any questions, comments and all that jazz here please. Thanks for reading!
I know it's been ages since I've updated and I send my deepest appologies. Things have been pretty hectic around my end, so, once again, I'm very sorry.
Also, Caity, it's been a very long time since I've updated, so I've went ahead and posted; I hope to send you another chapter soon once I have it ready.
Anyhoo, without further delay...
Chapter 23:
Your past attempts did not work,
Into the Forest you must lurk.
Look for a vine that has a third thorn,
Next a shed of unicorn horn.
Into the cauldron with powdered lion fish spine,
Brew with a dash of elf-made wine.
A drop of snake venom, any will do,
Stir clockwise once, then counter two.
Add a scarab beetle, but only its head;
Your potion should now be a deep shade of red.
Drop in the map and let it drown;
Let it simmer till the moon comes round.
Tom bent over the table, seeking out the next step to his potion. I added everything up to the beetle, but why is it pink? Frowning, Tom lowered the heat and dropped the map into the cauldron. Watching intently for any sign of change, Tom let out a heavy sigh and left his potion; it would need three weeks to simmer.
Upstairs, Draco was still sleeping soundly in a sturdy chair against the fire. Glancing at the wall clock across the room, Tom realized he was in the cellar all night preparing his potion. Three weeks to brew and then I’ll only have two additional days before I need to return to school. Smirking at a second glance at Draco, Tom decided he too could do with a nap and turned around and made his way to the staircase.
Much of the night, Draco remained in a dreamless sleep. As the potion effects began to wear off, Draco could see a hazy fog surrounding him, almost sticky against his bare skin. Where am I? he tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t reach his mouth. Why can’t I speak? He thought, trying to move his arms only to find that his body wouldn’t work. All he could feel was the soft moss below as its musky scent filled his nostrils. What is going on? Why can’t I move? What the hell happened to me? Draco began to panic. His eyes were open and he tried with all his might to make sense of himself. The sun was rising, and a ray of warm sun laid across his exposed, cold body causing him to shiver. A moment later, Draco began to shake violently against the cold earth below him. Images of the Dark Lord flashed before him. His wand directed towards his chest, and his father’s cold glare as he too raised his wand. A cold, high laugh rang through his ears and the contempt upon his father’s face raced across his mind. Draco was sure he stood before death; blackness enveloped him like a soft, velvet glove as he gave himself to the darkness. Draco tried to scream out in fear or pain, he couldn’t tell the difference. The convulsions became more and more violent as his body thrashed against the cold moss below. Turning to his side, he expelled the toxic death from his body; his stomach retched and billowed until it could not any longer. Breathing hard, he gave a breath of relief as he was reborn; Draco felt his hands, his arms, and his hair even to make sure he was alive. Taking in his environment, he became haunted by the remnants of energy from the night. Faces of his oppressors were everywhere and once again, in a distance, he heard the same familiar voice, only able to see a black cloak. Moving towards him, Draco once again felt a wave of panic. Unable to make out the body, he readied himself for some sort of barbaric duel.
“Calm yourself,” said the man. “You don’t want to become ill again.”
“Who are you?” Draco shouted.
“Tsk, tsk… is that any way to greet your professor?”
“Professor?”
Moving closer, Draco was able to make out a figure with black hair and he held a black bundle and a goblet.
Unable to move, Draco was frozen; unsure of himself or the man before him, once again, he feared death.
“Professor Snape!” Draco shouted out of relief.
“Keep your voice down, boy! You never know if they will return.” Snape said, tossing him a black cloak. “Robe yourself.”
Draco did as he was commanded, looking puzzled upon his teacher.
Snape then handed him the goblet. “Drink this; it will help with the nausea.”
As soon as the potion touched his lips, his body began to warm. He no longer felt his stomach churn with toxins as the peppermint mixture coated his insides; the shivers that ran across his body stopped.
“What happened, Professor?”
Snape gazed across Draco’s face for a moment, almost disappointed. “If you will remember your first year at Hogwarts, I explained to all my classes that I can stop death.”
Draco shook his head.
“Well, I, and now you, can create a sort of false death. Last night I gave you an ancient spell to fake your own death. It’s violent and only lasts until the sun rises, but it gave you time. Once the Dark Lord was satisfied with your death, he left along with the Death Eaters. Now if you will, we need to speak to Dumbledore.”
Draco opened his eyes, still able to taste the peppermint on his lips.
Standing up for what seemed like the first time, Draco stretched his weak muscles. He then realized the house was far too quiet. I wonder what Tom is up too… Draco reached the staircase and called for his student. Nothing. Deciding to peer into his room, he saw Tom fast asleep atop his bed, something crumpled in his hand. Tip-toeing to Tom, Draco gently eased the parchment out of his hand to realize it was some sort of poem. So this is what he’s up to… I wonder why, Draco thought. Placing the paper back in Tom’s hands, he closed the door. The door to the late Mrs. Durgan’s room was ajar, so, Draco decided to take a peek. Inside there were dozens of photographs on the walls and on the dressing table, the vanity, and nightstands. All of Tom Sr. and Tom Jr. Picking up an old black and white photograph, Draco snorted as he realized Tom was nothing like his father or mother. His mother had a kind yet stern face. His father seemed jolly as he smiled back at him as Draco admired a deep burgundy smoking coat. Peering at the wardrobe, Draco wondered if Mrs. Durgan kept any of her husband’s clothing. Sure it was muggle attire, but Draco was able to recognize quality. Rummaging through the various bits of clothes, he discovered a little maple box at the bottom; cradling it while sitting on the foot of the bed, Draco opened the wooden box. Inside contained legal documents of adoption and a brief history of one woman by the name of Margaret Morose. A pit began to build in Draco’s stomach as he vaguely remembered a similar story. Gently placing the lid back on the box, he laid it on the bed. Walking down the hallway, Draco couldn’t get the story out of his mind. As new, uneasy feeling about The Durgan family began to appear, Draco once again peered into the room of his charge. Still sleeping, he realized why Harry behaved so peculiar upon meeting Tom. It couldn’t be… could it? Draco quickly and as quietly as he could, dashed to the fireplace; Draco needed Snape’s help once again.
******
Scrimegour looked positively dreadful as he walked up the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Witches and wizards all stared as they felt their Minister was loosing his mind.
“You think the job is getting to him?” some would ask.
“I think perhaps he should seek help from St. Mungo’s as he’s loosing his mind,” others would suggest.
“Maybe he should retire,” was the general consensus among the wizarding community.
Scrimegour however, ignored all the ridiculous banter as he called it. He was perfectly fine and sane and capable of performing his job. Sure he had moments that he couldn’t remember; what’s it to the wizarding world if he indulges in a scotch every now and then. It’s them who are going mad, not me! Inside his dark office, Scrimegour put his cane against the wall and sat at his desk. In an instant Lucius Malfoy appeared before him.
“Tsk. Tsk, Minister. Now how are we ever to succeed in the master plan if you don’t do you job?” he asked silkily.
“I have been doing my job,” he roared. “You try it sometime, won’t you!”
Lucius smirked as he peered into his eyes. In a flash, Scrimegour was revolting on the cold, hard ground, screaming in agony. “Let that be your final warning.” With a loud crack, Lucius disappeared and left Scrimegour to his work.
And there you have it... I hope it wasn't too disappointing... anyhoo, please feel free to leave any questions, comments, and what not here.
Also, Caity, it's been a very long time since I've updated, so I've went ahead and posted; I hope to send you another chapter soon once I have it ready.
Anyhoo, without further delay...
Chapter 23:
Your past attempts did not work,
Into the Forest you must lurk.
Look for a vine that has a third thorn,
Next a shed of unicorn horn.
Into the cauldron with powdered lion fish spine,
Brew with a dash of elf-made wine.
A drop of snake venom, any will do,
Stir clockwise once, then counter two.
Add a scarab beetle, but only its head;
Your potion should now be a deep shade of red.
Drop in the map and let it drown;
Let it simmer till the moon comes round.
Tom bent over the table, seeking out the next step to his potion. I added everything up to the beetle, but why is it pink? Frowning, Tom lowered the heat and dropped the map into the cauldron. Watching intently for any sign of change, Tom let out a heavy sigh and left his potion; it would need three weeks to simmer.
Upstairs, Draco was still sleeping soundly in a sturdy chair against the fire. Glancing at the wall clock across the room, Tom realized he was in the cellar all night preparing his potion. Three weeks to brew and then I’ll only have two additional days before I need to return to school. Smirking at a second glance at Draco, Tom decided he too could do with a nap and turned around and made his way to the staircase.
Much of the night, Draco remained in a dreamless sleep. As the potion effects began to wear off, Draco could see a hazy fog surrounding him, almost sticky against his bare skin. Where am I? he tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t reach his mouth. Why can’t I speak? He thought, trying to move his arms only to find that his body wouldn’t work. All he could feel was the soft moss below as its musky scent filled his nostrils. What is going on? Why can’t I move? What the hell happened to me? Draco began to panic. His eyes were open and he tried with all his might to make sense of himself. The sun was rising, and a ray of warm sun laid across his exposed, cold body causing him to shiver. A moment later, Draco began to shake violently against the cold earth below him. Images of the Dark Lord flashed before him. His wand directed towards his chest, and his father’s cold glare as he too raised his wand. A cold, high laugh rang through his ears and the contempt upon his father’s face raced across his mind. Draco was sure he stood before death; blackness enveloped him like a soft, velvet glove as he gave himself to the darkness. Draco tried to scream out in fear or pain, he couldn’t tell the difference. The convulsions became more and more violent as his body thrashed against the cold moss below. Turning to his side, he expelled the toxic death from his body; his stomach retched and billowed until it could not any longer. Breathing hard, he gave a breath of relief as he was reborn; Draco felt his hands, his arms, and his hair even to make sure he was alive. Taking in his environment, he became haunted by the remnants of energy from the night. Faces of his oppressors were everywhere and once again, in a distance, he heard the same familiar voice, only able to see a black cloak. Moving towards him, Draco once again felt a wave of panic. Unable to make out the body, he readied himself for some sort of barbaric duel.
“Calm yourself,” said the man. “You don’t want to become ill again.”
“Who are you?” Draco shouted.
“Tsk, tsk… is that any way to greet your professor?”
“Professor?”
Moving closer, Draco was able to make out a figure with black hair and he held a black bundle and a goblet.
Unable to move, Draco was frozen; unsure of himself or the man before him, once again, he feared death.
“Professor Snape!” Draco shouted out of relief.
“Keep your voice down, boy! You never know if they will return.” Snape said, tossing him a black cloak. “Robe yourself.”
Draco did as he was commanded, looking puzzled upon his teacher.
Snape then handed him the goblet. “Drink this; it will help with the nausea.”
As soon as the potion touched his lips, his body began to warm. He no longer felt his stomach churn with toxins as the peppermint mixture coated his insides; the shivers that ran across his body stopped.
“What happened, Professor?”
Snape gazed across Draco’s face for a moment, almost disappointed. “If you will remember your first year at Hogwarts, I explained to all my classes that I can stop death.”
Draco shook his head.
“Well, I, and now you, can create a sort of false death. Last night I gave you an ancient spell to fake your own death. It’s violent and only lasts until the sun rises, but it gave you time. Once the Dark Lord was satisfied with your death, he left along with the Death Eaters. Now if you will, we need to speak to Dumbledore.”
Draco opened his eyes, still able to taste the peppermint on his lips.
Standing up for what seemed like the first time, Draco stretched his weak muscles. He then realized the house was far too quiet. I wonder what Tom is up too… Draco reached the staircase and called for his student. Nothing. Deciding to peer into his room, he saw Tom fast asleep atop his bed, something crumpled in his hand. Tip-toeing to Tom, Draco gently eased the parchment out of his hand to realize it was some sort of poem. So this is what he’s up to… I wonder why, Draco thought. Placing the paper back in Tom’s hands, he closed the door. The door to the late Mrs. Durgan’s room was ajar, so, Draco decided to take a peek. Inside there were dozens of photographs on the walls and on the dressing table, the vanity, and nightstands. All of Tom Sr. and Tom Jr. Picking up an old black and white photograph, Draco snorted as he realized Tom was nothing like his father or mother. His mother had a kind yet stern face. His father seemed jolly as he smiled back at him as Draco admired a deep burgundy smoking coat. Peering at the wardrobe, Draco wondered if Mrs. Durgan kept any of her husband’s clothing. Sure it was muggle attire, but Draco was able to recognize quality. Rummaging through the various bits of clothes, he discovered a little maple box at the bottom; cradling it while sitting on the foot of the bed, Draco opened the wooden box. Inside contained legal documents of adoption and a brief history of one woman by the name of Margaret Morose. A pit began to build in Draco’s stomach as he vaguely remembered a similar story. Gently placing the lid back on the box, he laid it on the bed. Walking down the hallway, Draco couldn’t get the story out of his mind. As new, uneasy feeling about The Durgan family began to appear, Draco once again peered into the room of his charge. Still sleeping, he realized why Harry behaved so peculiar upon meeting Tom. It couldn’t be… could it? Draco quickly and as quietly as he could, dashed to the fireplace; Draco needed Snape’s help once again.
******
Scrimegour looked positively dreadful as he walked up the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Witches and wizards all stared as they felt their Minister was loosing his mind.
“You think the job is getting to him?” some would ask.
“I think perhaps he should seek help from St. Mungo’s as he’s loosing his mind,” others would suggest.
“Maybe he should retire,” was the general consensus among the wizarding community.
Scrimegour however, ignored all the ridiculous banter as he called it. He was perfectly fine and sane and capable of performing his job. Sure he had moments that he couldn’t remember; what’s it to the wizarding world if he indulges in a scotch every now and then. It’s them who are going mad, not me! Inside his dark office, Scrimegour put his cane against the wall and sat at his desk. In an instant Lucius Malfoy appeared before him.
“Tsk. Tsk, Minister. Now how are we ever to succeed in the master plan if you don’t do you job?” he asked silkily.
“I have been doing my job,” he roared. “You try it sometime, won’t you!”
Lucius smirked as he peered into his eyes. In a flash, Scrimegour was revolting on the cold, hard ground, screaming in agony. “Let that be your final warning.” With a loud crack, Lucius disappeared and left Scrimegour to his work.
And there you have it... I hope it wasn't too disappointing... anyhoo, please feel free to leave any questions, comments, and what not here.
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