The Next Dance

Aerie22

Story Summary:
Harry Potter and Parvati Patil have beaten back an attack by Voldemort early in their fifth year and are now a couple. Lucius Malfoy is on the run and Draco is penniless. But will an injured Voldemort lash back? Or will an angry and embittered Draco strike first? And will Harry's romance survive Parvati's legendary temper, especially with Hermione there for him? And what of the brooding character that makes this fic decidedly A/U? Sequel to Dance With Me Harry.

Chapter 09

Chapter Summary:
Harry Potter and Parvati Patil have beaten back an attack by Voldemort early in their fifth year and are now a couple. Lucius Malfoy is on the run and Draco is penniless. But will an injured Voldemort lash back? Or will an angry and embittered Draco strike first? And will Harry’s romance survive Parvati’s legendary temper, especially with Hermione there for him? And what of the brooding character that makes this fic decidedly A/U? Sequel to Dance With Me Harry. This chapter: Halloween feast fun and Harry Duels a shadow.
Posted:
10/20/2003
Hits:
4,160
Author's Note:
Author’s note: This is a sequel to my earlier novel, Dance With Me Harry. In the first novel, much happened, familiar characters and minor canon characters were developed, and over 30 OCs were introduced, so reading the first part of this series is highly recommended. Also, this is an A/U fic, taking place in Harry’s fifth year. However, there will be elements from OotP that may surface from time to time, so be aware of the potential spoiler effect for all five books. Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. Please continue to read and review.

THE NEXT DANCE

BY AERIE22

CHAPTER NINE

SIR RICHARD

"What do you think, Harry?"

As with all Halloween feasts, the meal itself was light, consisting of a soup and garden salad and chicken breasts with vegetables. Not that Harry had noticed. It was a Tuesday and he hadn't noticed much for the past few days.

As he had sat down at his place in the Great Hall, Parvati slipped in beside him and gave his knee a quick caress under the table and, after giving her a warm smile, he just seemed to drift off into his own world again. That Harry had noticed. Until he drifted off into his own world again. And, as he thought of the girl beside him, he found it was a very pleasant world.

Parvati too was quiet, with a small, barely noticeable smile on her face. But at least she seemed to be able to feed herself, while Harry simply sat there, a bit of chicken on his fork poised halfway to his mouth amid the hubbub of his classmates surrounding him at the table.

On the other side of Parvati, Lavender leaned over and gave Parvati a gentle bump with her shoulder and the two girls quietly giggled. Then, just past Lavender at the table, Seamus turned around and looked down the table toward Harry. He noticed Harry still staring off into space and Parvati being uncharacteristically quiet as she took another dainty bite of her salad and looking like she was about to do a Trelawney space-out.

"Looks like trouble in paradise," Seamus whispered to Lavender with arched eyebrows.

Lavender turned to her new boyfriend with a quizzical expression.

Seamus motioned to Harry, who continued to stare off into space and Parvati, who seemed to be eating in slow motion.

Lavender turned back to Seamus, a half-amused, half-exasperated look, shaking her head. Then, with a snort, she reached into her robe. "Here's a knut. Buy a clue," she said with a quiet chuckle.

Seamus looked at her in confusion. Lavender rolled her eyes. "Maybe, just maybe, you'll understand someday," she whispered. "And that's a big maybe," she said with laughter in her eyes.

In the meantime, Ron was still trying to get Harry's attention from across the table. "Harry! I asked you what do you think?" Ron then picked up a crouton from his salad and flicked it at Harry, hitting him in the cheek.

Harry came out of his daze and focused on Ron. "What?" he asked in confusion.

Ron motioned with his head across the Great Hall. "What do you think Gillespie's reading over there? I mean, who brings a book to the Halloween feast?"

Harry blinked and turned around, looking across past the Ravenclaw table and spotted Mike Gillespie, the Hufflepuff seeker eating with a book propped up in front of him. He couldn't quite make out what it was but the longer he looked at it, the clearer it became. He still couldn't read the lettering, but he thought he recognized the cover. He gave a small smile and shook his head.

Harry turned to Ron and shrugged. "It looks like Catching the Snitch by Wronski," he said, his eyebrows raised. "Same as the copy you gave me over the summer."

Hermione looked up suddenly and peered over at the Hufflepuff table. "You could see that from here?"

Harry shrugged. "No, I couldn't read the title. But the cover looks about the same. And it would make sense that he's prepping for our match on Saturday."

Ron shook his head. "That's the only thing that could get a Hufflepuff to read anything," he said with a smirk.

Hermione gave Ron a quick elbow. "That's not nice," she hissed. "They study, too. Probably more than you do."

Harry chuckled at his best friends' antics as Hermione frowned and Ron made a face at her. Then, as he turned back to his meal, he heard Fred quietly call Hermione's name.

Harry looked up and saw Fred and George staring at Hermione with anxious expressions. Fred raised his eyebrows questioningly. "The timing?" he whispered.

Hermione blinked in surprise and consternation. "Here? In the Great Hall? I thought it was supposed to be in the common room," she said with a note of concern.

George gave a brief smile but Fred was still staring at Hermione with an anxious look.

Hermione frowned. "You're going to get us in so much trouble," she whispered.

George rolled his eyes and now Fred gave a small smirk, then frowned. "But it's past time," he whispered.

Hermione looked down at her plate with a dark expression. "What time?" she muttered.

Fred looked at her with a worried expression. "Right at 7:00," he whispered and held up a dilapidated timepiece up. It read 7:03.

Lavender looked back and forth between Hermione and the twins. "What's at 7:00," she asked as she pulled a chain from around her neck to show an elegant silver locket. She pressed a button and opened it to reveal a timepiece of her own. "It's 6:59."

Suddenly Fred and George smiled and Hermione sunk down in her seat and began to glance around furtively.

The Gryffindors who had overheard the conversation suddenly looked around in a panic and began to brace themselves. Then, just as the main meal was beginning magically to disappear from their plates, they heard it. A quick whoosh.

Suddenly, all eyes were on the Hufflepuff table. Everything and everyone at the table had turned a bright yellow. There was another whoosh and in a blink, the Ravenclaw table turned a bright blue. This was followed by another whoosh and the Gryffindor table turned a bright red. Finally, a fourth whoosh sounded and everyone and everything at the Slytherin table turned a sickly dull pea green, and the raising of voices throughout the hall suddenly turned to laughter at the trick and at the annoyed expressions of the Slytherins that their house color had been so inartfully applied.

But that wasn't the end. There was a final whoosh and the head table and the professors suddenly turned electric orange for Halloween.

At this, the whole hall erupted in laughter, which was joined by most of the professors, although Professor Snape appeared to take on a menacing look that was blunted by his new, day-glow complexion. And Professor Trelawney looked disconcerted but managed a weak smile. A translucent orange Professor Binns continued to sleep in his corner of the table.

Professor Dumbledore laughed heartily. But no one looked more pleased than Professor Flitwick. "That was a brilliant charm," he squeaked. "Ten points for whoever dreamed that up."

"And a week's detention," Snape muttered sullenly.

Just as the laughter and applause began to die down, there was a whoosh and the Hufflepuff table returned to its normal color with a quick burst of orange and black glitter, followed by the Ravenclaw table, the Gryffindor table and the head table.

The Slytherin table, however, saw their sickly color slowly fade as the traditional Halloween treats and pies magically appeared.

Hermione turned around at the angry grumbling from the Slytherin table and then glared at the twins.

Fred shrugged and George smiled. "Green isn't a primary color, so it takes longer for the charm to wear off," George said with a grin.

Hermione frowned. "Orange isn't a primary color either, and you had no trouble with that," she muttered.

Fred and George merely smirked and dug into the treats. The George looked over at Harry. "Remind us to return your Jazzbow Jake's book," he said with a smile.

Harry grinned and the looked over at Hermione with a smile. "I didn't know you could do a timing charm. You'll have to show me," he said with a smile.

Hermione frowned again. "Don't get me involved in this. It wasn't supposed to be done here," she whispered, her face glowing pink. "That's the last time I help those two," she muttered to herself.

Harry chuckled and looked around at the table. There was so much. He saw the pumpkin pie. It was his favorite. But next to it was the mince pie. He smiled as he inhaled its fruity spice. Maybe he would go for the mince pie and have a slice of pumpkin pie later, if there was room.

* * *

The black shadow stole across the dimly lit library reading room and made its way to the librarian's desk. Madam Pince kept the dangerous books, the true dark arts references in the restricted section. The most advanced and dangerous, as well as the rarest, of these books were chained to their bookcases and could only he read at the folding carrels attached to the bookcases themselves.

But there, behind Pince's desk, was a wide, locked cabinet. It was there where the rarest and most dangerous books were kept. Students generally were not aware of its existence as, whenever they saw the cabinet opened, all they saw were mundane supplies associated with the library trade. But professors knew. There were tomes in there that any scholar in the wizarding world would pay a mound of gold to read.

And the shadow knew. For behind those mundane library supplies was possibly the key. The shadow uttered a series of incantations. The door slowly fell open and the supply shelf descended. And there was the narrow corridor, with room enough for one person to pass through. It was lined on both sides with books, some ancient, some modern. The shadow reached out and slid its hand across the bindings, often leaving finger tracks in the dust on the spines of some of the lesser used volumes.

Then the hand stopped. Could this be the one? Might this be the answer? A quiet spell was uttered to unlock the volume from the shelf and the hand reached for the book. It was not as old as most of the volumes, although some foxing and discoloration was evident. The Dark Arts in Defense: Avatars, Servants, Surrogates and Protectors by Orfeo Torre. The shadow had heard of this book. It was quickly removed from the shelf and stored in the robe that absorbed all light, reflecting none.

Just as it had entered, the shadow silently glided out of the corridor, closing and locking the cabinet, and making its way around the perimeter of the library to the entrance. It knew that this was the most dangerous moment, to travel from the entrance of the library to the hidden stairwell. Already it had been seen once, two weeks ago, but had relied on its robe for camouflage. But it had to be careful. It slowly and cautiously cracked open the side door to the library and glanced through the crack. No one was there at the prefects' post. The shadow nodded. They were elsewhere, on patrol.

* * *

Harry and Janet McDonald slowly made their way up the stairs from the main entrance to the first floor. McGonagall had been right, Harry supposed. Going on walking patrols at irregular an unpredictable hours would tend to confuse an intruder.

Talking with the enchanted armor of Sir William du Vorge along with Parvati had made Harry realize that history wasn't just a dry set of dates and facts, but accounts of the lives of real people. That aside, though, it usually took only about 15 minutes for him to become thoroughly bored with his history of magic assignment for his 11:00 class the next day. Then he would sit there and wait for Janet to become bored with whatever she was working on. That usually took another few minutes, as she had as little tolerance for revising in the wee small hours of the morning as he did.

Then they would check the time and decide if it was too soon to begin their walking patrol. It nearly always was. So they would sit and try to think up things to talk about until one or the other decided to start the rounds.

Janet was pleasant enough. But her conversation generally centered on whether her relationship with Andy Stebbins had a future. Andy was a nice guy. And Janet was a nice girl. And together, Harry assumed they would have a nice life together. A nice and boring life.

But then, there were times when he envied the notion of a boring life. Andy would take over his father's business as a factor in the grain supply business. Janet would have kids that would alternate between being boy and girl, red-head and brown-haired, and everyone would live happily ever after. Not a Death Eater in sight.

Harry sighed and looked up as they reached the landing. Another thirty feet to the library door and an additional thirty feet beyond and they could sit down at their patrol stations and relax and talk about boring, safe lives.

Suddenly, the library door cracked open. Harry reached out his arm to angle Janet behind him as he pushed them both against the wall behind a suit of armor. Slowly, he reached to his wand holder on his belt and motioned Janet to do the same. The door opened a little wider. Then what looked like shadow stepped out and began making its way to an open space in between two other suits of armor on the far wall.

Harry suddenly stepped out of the shadows.

"Stupefy!" he shouted.

There was a sudden glow around the shadow, which staggered noticeably, but nothing else happened. The thing in the impossibly black robe wheeled and shot a curse at Harry and took off running down the first floor hallway past the prefect patrol desks.

Harry, who dove to avoid the curse, jumped to his feet. "Call it in, Janet. He's got a shielding charm," Harry shouted, and took off in pursuit.

Harry just vaguely heard Janet shout "Increpare" as he raced behind the fleeing figure. The figure had a good 20 yards on him and was maintaining its distance, which caused Harry fleeting concern as he had always considered himself one of the fastest runners at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, the shadowy figure darted through the entrance to the stairwells. Within a couple seconds, Harry reached the entrance, only to find the doors locked. 'A locking charm,' he thought briefly in annoyance. "Alohamora," he shouted, and the doors swung open. He dashed through the doors only to have to duck another hex being cast from the stairwell above.

"Petrificus Totalus," Harry shouted at the fleeing figure, scoring a hit that once again, almost making the shadow trip but otherwise merely causing the robe to glow. But it didn't slow down his quarry, which was taking the stairs three at a time.

Harry made the turn at the second floor landing in time to see another hex, which he dodged. But he looked up in time to see the shadowy figure dart through the doors to the forbidden third floor.

Harry regained his footing and dashed up the next flight of stairs, only to feel the stairwell suddenly move. 'No!' he thought savagely. 'Don't change!'

He reached the top of the stairs and with a great effort leaped the newly forming gap between the moving stairs and the landing that the stairwell was moving away from. He managed to just make the distance, hitting the edge of the landing at the hips, grabbing for purchase. Suddenly, he felt himself slipping back off the landing and toward a 40-foot drop to the bottom of the stairwell below. He dropped his wand and grabbed the carpeting. He only just managed to gain a hand-hold in the loose floor covering. That gave him just enough time to make a grab and hook his right hand around the stone balustrade at the side of the landing.

Harry managed to swing himself up and, adrenaline pumping, regained his feet. Grabbing his wand, he pulled on the doorknob, only to be met again with a locked door. Another Alohamora spell and he was through, ducking and rolling behind the statue of the hump-backed witch. He heard a door slam shut down the hall and quickly raced to see which one.

He reached the second door and saw the large, iron ring moving. It was the same room where Hagrid had kept Fluffy to guard the Philosopher's Stone in his first year. He tried the door. Again locked.

"Alohamora," he shouted, and the door clicked open to the huge, completely dark room. Harry quickly darted inside, rolling to his right and trying to let his eyes adjust to whatever light was there. But the door had closed behind him and there was no light at all.

He cursed himself. He couldn't use his wand to light the room. It would be too weak and make him an instant target. He controlled his breathing and tried to calm himself. He listened, but heard nothing. No movement. No heavy breathing. Nothing.

He knew there was a charm for a situation like this. What had Moody said? An old Auror trick. 'Six Suns in the Shadows.' He fought to remember. Then he nodded to himself. Worth a try.

Harry tried to imagine where he was in the room. It was a big room with two steps down. He was facing toward the center of the room. Slowly and silently, he crawled down the steps and slowly arose to a crouch. He took four steps into the room and closed his eyes and listened again. Still nothing.

He shrugged internally and decided to give it a try. Keeping his eyes closed, he muttered the charm: "Sex Sols in Umbrae."

He slowly opened his eyes to see the entire room bathed in a light so bright that the mere reflection of it against the bare walls hurt his eyes. He knew any opponent not prepared would be temporarily blinded by the light. And surrounding him were six large disks floating irregularly. Each disk acted as a reflector to the bright lights on the sides away from Harry. He looked down and could barely see his hands, as the spell acted to not just to project light away from him but to absorb any light coming in.

Then he remembered to keep moving, in case his opponent started casting random spells toward the darkened area in the middle of the floating disks. Moody had assured him that the disks would move in an irregular pattern to confuse an opponent as to where exactly the center of the disks might be.

The room was roughly rectangular so, for all its size, there were very few places that were in shadows--only a few areas on the ceiling where stone structural beams broke up the smooth solidity. There was a spot near his feet where the trapdoor cast a thin shadow. And there was one corner where there was a huge pile of old trunks apparently stored away.

He muttered a quick charm sealing the trapdoor and slowly made his way over to the area where the trunks lay piled in a haphazard manner. It was a slow process, as he walked silently and in fits and starts to keep his opponent from judging his movement from the way the six disks casually followed his progress.

As he got to the trunks, he slowly wandered to and fro to see if there were any that were obviously tampered with. The dust that had collected around the trunks seemed undisturbed, with no apparent footprints. He peered more closely.

Suddenly, he pointed his wand. "Aperire." But none of them opened. "Aperire per vim." Again, none of the trunks opened, although one seemed to be trying to break open against rotted leather fastenings.

He walked closer to see if there were any gaps in the stonework behind the trunks, which must have numbered at least 200. As he peered closer, his eye caught the reflection of an elaborate brass nameplate on a large trunk painted black and white.

He stared at the name in surprise, and couldn't help but chuckle to himself. It was Aunt Petunia's bete noire. The summation of all she thought of as sinful and perverse and disgusting. The man she had claimed finally corrupted the most beautiful woman ever to come out of England.

The name on the brass nameplate was Richard Burton.

'Richard Burton was a wizard?' Harry thought to himself in amusement, as he cast another wary glance around the room. The despoiler of Aunt Petunia's beloved childhood idol, Elizabeth Taylor? The sweet, brave young heroine of National Velvet turned into an adulteress by that filthy Welshman, as Petunia would call in on one of her rants. No wonder Petunia hated wizards. Maybe she knew.

Harry continued to smile in amusement, then realized he was still searching for an intruder, possibly a Death Eater. He continued his circuit around the room, checking every corner, every irregularity. He tried several opening charms on the walls and floors to see if there was a hidden entrance that would have allowed the intruder to escape undetected.

He also tried random stunning spells in case the intruder had some sort of invisibility protection. But there was nothing. Finally, Harry shrugged and returned to the door of the room. The only escape had to be through the trap door. And he was not going to go down there without someone following as a backup.

He cast a general illuminatus charm to light the room, removing the six suns charm and opened the door.

"Hello!" he shouted out, his wand still out and ready in case the intruder was still on the floor.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" came a familiar voice.

"Professor McGonagall?" he replied.

Minerva McGonagall walked down the corridor into view. "Harry, where have you been? Everyone has been in a panic over you." Suddenly, she came up to Harry and gave him a hug. "I have a good mind to deduct house points against you for scaring us all to death."

Harry gave McGonagall an embarrassed smile, which rapidly faded. "I followed him up here. He had on a robe that seemed featureless. Just a flat, flat black, like a shadow. And he had really strong shields that seemed to absorb any curses I hit him with. He came up here and I heard a door slam and saw the ring on the door moving, so I followed him in. But he had disappeared."

"Which room?" she asked urgently.

"This one. Fluffy's old room. He probably ducked down the shaft through the trapdoor."

McGonagall frowned. "I seriously doubt that. The trapdoor has been sealed by the Headmaster. Only he knows how to open it."

Suddenly Professors Dumbledore and Snape appeared. "Potter. Why didn't you wait for Professor Flitwick?" Snape asked in annoyance.

Harry stared at the Potions Master. "He was checking wards and locks while we were making the rounds. We were just finishing up when we saw the thing. There was no time."

"That thing could have killed you, like he almost did to Malfoy. Use your head," Snape replied angrily.

Harry sighed. Flitwick was the professor on duty patrol tonight, but he was probably still on the other end of the ground floor and they would have lost the shadow had they waited.

Dumbledore gave Harry a small smile. "Harry, you did your duty," he said benignly. "But Professor Snape is correct. We have to be careful in dealing with this intruder. We don't know who, or what, it is."

Harry took a deep breath. "I don't think this one was the one who beat up Malfoy."

"What!" Snape exclaimed.

Harry frowned. "I saw Draco's injuries. It looks like he was beat up by someone big and strong. The person I was chasing was small. Maybe my size. Maybe smaller. He was fast. Or maybe she, I couldn't tell. The robe seemed to absorb the light, like you couldn't get a sense of its shape. But small. And very fast."

Harry and the three professors pondered the nature of their opponent.

After some discussion, the group broke up, with Snape and Dumbledore checking Fluffy's room while McGonagall led the protesting Harry down to the first floor.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said softly. "You don't have to make your second set of rounds tonight. I think you've had enough exercise and excitement for one night. And we have several staff members now wandering the hallways to check on things for the rest of the night."

Harry smiled. "That's all right. I don't mind rounds. At least they're more interesting than reading my history of magic text."

McGonagall started to give Harry a stern look, but that gave way to a knowing smile. "Now you don't want to let Professor Binns hear that. I am sure it would hurt his feelings...if he were still alive."

Harry chuckled. As McGonagall turned to leave, Harry suddenly spoke up. "Professor, what's in all those old trunks up in Fluffy's room?"

McGonagall turned and gave Harry a thoughtful look. "Oh, those belonged to former students. Some were left behind. Some belonged to students who had died while they were here and who had no family, or whose family were Muggles and had no use for the contents. And some were simply bequests from former students who entered the Muggle world after Hogwarts and who had no one in the wizarding word to leave their wizarding belongings to, or who simply wanted to leave a piece of themselves here at Hogwarts after they departed this world."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. 'Richard Burton at Hogwarts,' Harry thought, shaking his head. 'Now that would have made for an interesting movie.'

* * *

Draco Malfoy had regained his breath and shook his head. It would have to be Potter. What was he thinking? Thursday nights were the nights Potter was on patrol.

He took another deep breath. He couldn't believe that he had the presence of mind to spell a door on the third floor to swing open as he passed and that Potter bought the ruse. That was the only way he managed to buy enough time to find the right portion of the wall that opened to the secret tunnel back to the dungeons. Knowledge of those tunnels was one thing to thank his father for. One of the few things.

He silently faced the blank wall. "Viridis et Argenteus." The wall moved aside and Draco slipped into the Slytherin common room.

As expected, Jack Bletchley was laid out asleep on the couch in front of the fire. Draco shook his head. Bletchley was supposed to be on duty in the Slytherin common room in case of an intruder. Draco had debated about slipping him a sleeping draught before he left, but that would be like taking coal to Newcastle. Bletchley was already sound asleep two hours ago when Draco had slipped out.

He quickly removed the night-camouflage robe and stuck it in a bag he wore over his left shoulder. He made his way down the corridor to the boys bathroom and took a long drink of water.

He looked up at his face reflected in the mirror. All signs of the beating were gone except that he now had what looked to be a part in his eyebrow over his left eye. Madam Pomfrey had offered to remove that little scar, but Draco declined. Let it stay there as a reminder. To remind him of those whom he would pay back.

He returned to his dorm to see his two remaining roommates fast asleep. He quietly changed into his pajamas, regretting that in now was too cold for silk. He just as quietly slipped into his bed and cast a silencing charm and lit his wand. He pulled out the book and opened it.

Yes, this was the book. Almost 150 years old. Orfeo Torre. A deadly dull writer. But he knew his Latin. And he knew his spells and curses. And he knew what Draco needed to know to get his revenge.

* * *

Harry was still thinking about Richard Burton's trunk when his shift ended. He knew he should be tired, but he wasn't. How was he ever going to be able to take his nap?

Because of his prefect patrol duties, Harry had permission to lie in until his first class at 11:00 am. And he could summon a breakfast in his dorm between 10:00 and 10:30 from the kitchens using a special enchanted parchment he, and all the prefects, had been given. That gave him a chance to make up the four hours of sleep he'd lost because of patrol duty.

But Harry was restless. He had to know what was in that trunk. Maybe a guide to being a ladies' man. Or charms on how to deepen his voice to a Shakespearean baritone. Or love potions. He started chuckling and couldn't stop even when he got into the Gryffindor common room. Fortunately, no one was awake to ask him about it.

As he lay in bed, trying to get to sleep, he kept coming back to that trunk. What was in it? He had to know. And why had it lain up there unnoticed. After all, Burton had died a mere ten years or so before. It was one of Harry's earliest memories, recalling his aunt yelling and laughing over the death of 'That Filthy Welshman.' For once, she wasn't yelling or laughing at him.

Surely there had to be members of the staff who knew about Burton. He was one of the most famous Muggles in the world. Didn't anyone notice that he had left his trunk to Hogwarts?

As he heard his roommates begin to stir, he pondered. If no one paid heed to the trunk then, would they miss it now? Even if only for a few days?

He chuckled. His curiosity piqued, he thought about how he could gain access to the trunk. After all, the third floor was undergoing renovations. Would there be anyone to notice if he tried to get into the room?

He sighed and lay back on his pillows. Stupid idea. Trying to get up there unseen.

He sat bolt upright. The invisibility cloak! Then he sank back into his pillows again. Too risky. Especially at a time like this when there are prefect patrols and professors wandering the halls at irregular hours all night long. What if he were caught? They'd accuse him of being the late-night intruder. And he might be charged with theft and expelled. Stupid idea.

He stared into space as he heard Seamus and Dean get out of bed and start chattering.

"Shhhh," he heard Dean hiss. "Don't want to wake sleeping beauty.

Seamus snorted. "What a deal. Gets to lie in until 10:00, then breakfast in bed. Some life, these prefects."

Dean chuckled. "Maybe he doesn't lie in. Maybe he's got a hot date with another prefect."

Seamus snorted again. "Who? Hermione? Naw, she's always at breakfast with the rest of us."

Dean started giggling uncontrollably.

"What?" Seamus asked.

"Maybe he's got a date with Andy Stebbins."

Seamus burst into laughter. "No, Parvati is prettier. I can't see his chucking her for old Stubby Stebbins, the Hufflepuff Chuffer. Anyway, I saw Stubby at breakfast the past few Fridays when Turley was bitching about prefects getting to lie in."

Dean giggled. "But not the girl...McDonald."

Seamus laughed. "Oh, the old chestnut mare?" Seamus then made a whinny like a horse. "'Hey, Janet. What's two plus two'."

Harry heard four thumps, imagining Seamus was mimicking a horse pounding its hoof four times. He frowned. Janet wasn't pretty, but she was pleasant-looking. If she had something of a long face, she certainly wasn't horse-faced.

Dean gave a small laugh. "Still, she's female and the opportunity is there. Any port in a storm."

"Any wand in a duel," Seamus retorted.

"Any broom in a match," Dean replied.

"Any witch for a switch," said Seamus.

"Any hag for a stag," Dean replied

"Any hole for a pole," Seamus countered.

"Hey, stop being filthy," Neville snapped. "It's bad enough you've got to wake everyone up, without you two getting disgusting."

"Uh oh. We woke his eminence," Seamus said in mock alarm.

"Oh, shut up and take your shower," Neville muttered.

Harry could hear Neville stalk out.

Seamus chuckled. "You know, it could happen."

"What?"

"Harry could be shagging Janet and no one would ever know," Seamus said in a conspiratorial tone.

"What do you mean?"

Seamus paused. "Well, everyone goes to breakfast. Even Filch shows up at his back table. Harry and McDonald are probably the only ones in bed. So who's to say they aren't in the same bed? You know, they've got all night for foreplay."

Harry could hear Dean and Seamus roust Ron, who muttered a few choice words before stumbling into the showers after them.

And Harry sat there thinking.

'Breakfast would be the perfect time for the snatch,' he thought. 'Why not?'

* * *

The hardest part about snatching the trunk was the shrinking charm. Harry had made it down to the third floor under his invisibility cloak with no problem. But when he got to the trunk, his first two tries to shrink the trunk were a comedy of errors. The first time, he got the spell wrong and nothing happened. He feared that his second attempt had failed as well, until he noticed that the trunk had shrunk, but only by about ten percent. He shook his head and visualized exactly how small he wanted it. And, on the third try, he succeeded. He simply slipped it in his pocket and silently crept out.

He was back in his dorm in less than 30 minutes.

His first reaction upon opening the trunk was one of confusion. There was a cover letter dated January 17, 1891.

As per the bequest of the late Sir Richard Burton, St. James, London, and with the consent of his wife, Lady Isabel Burton, currently of No. 5 Baker Street, London, The following trunk, known as the Magpie Trunk, be consigned to the firm of Flourish & Blotts, London, for disposal as per the wishes of the deceased as expressed in the accompanying sealed document.

Arbuthnot & Greaves, solicitors

London

Harry sank into his bed, disappointed. This was some other Richard Burton.

He saw other formal letters, which he ignored.

Underneath were a series of handwritten manuscripts.

He shrugged and pulled the top one out.

The Ananga Ranga

Translated by Sir Richard Burton

Harry rolled his eyes at this. 'What in Merlin's name is this?' he said with a smile, and began reading.

MAY you be purified by Parvati who coloured the nails of her hands, which were white like the waters of the Ganges...

Harry gasped. 'Parvati?'

He read on.

The loves of Krishna and the sixteen thousand milkmaids are recorded in the Bhagavat..

And, further, let men know that passion resides in different parts and members of the woman's person...

Harry blinked. He had stumbled onto an 19th century sex manual. Or at least a 19th century translation of a sex manual that dated from ancient India. He scrabbled through the other manuscripts in the trunk.

First footsteps in East Africa

Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah and Meccah

Unexplored Syria

Two Trips to Gorilla Land and the Cataracts of the Congo

Then he saw something he recognized.

The One Thousand Nights And A Night

This wizard was the man who wrote, or at least translated, the Arabian Nights adventures.

Then, at the bottom of the trunk, was a series of bound notebooks, tied together by lengths of ribbon.

A sheet of paper at the top held the following note:

Let he who understands the arts and sciences of Witchcraft & Wizardry learn much from these journals. For those who know of no such art, simply look upon these as fables and fabulations.

Harry untied the ribbon and began to read.

In my youth, I had the pleasure and pain of attending a school named Hogwarts in Scotland. It was a school unlike any other. For it was a school of the mystic arts, where witches and wizards could learn their powers and their place in the world.

It was at Hogwarts where I learned about life and love. Were it not for some indiscretions that caused my leaving from the School, I would have lived a much different life.

Thus Burton began to relate his life in the wizarding world and Hogwarts, of a young witch named Juno who he loved and lost, his expulsion and his subsequent life in the Muggle world, with frequent forays into the Magical world whenever he recognized it around the world.

* * *

Harry paged through the notebooks. They described Burton's trips throughout the Middle East. It also painted a picture of persecution of the Wizarding world in the region by a variety of cultures and religions. A lost culture.

And it described a meeting in 'Dimashq' between Burton and an ancient Wizard named Nasr-al Adin of Esfahan, who had fled his home and was living out his final days hiding in exile.

Burton had spent several weeks talking with the old man and had catalogued hundreds of ancient charms, spells and curses from the ancient wizarding civilization. The remaining five notebooks contained translations of Nasr-al Adin's teachings and two additional sacred wizarding texts Burton had acquired from the old man.

Harry began paging through the notebooks. There were dozens of familiar spells, some of which were immediately recognizable.

Some, however, were completely alien. As Harry scanned through the final volume, his eyes widened. Curses like he had never imagined. "The Golden Death." "The Little Death." "The Five Parts." "The Departing." "The Flask." "The Extinguishing." "The Hidden." "The Confessor." "The Return."

Harry's hands were shaking and his breath was coming in gasps. 'Who was this Burton? And what would these notebooks yield?' Harry quickly repacked the trunk and performed a shrinking charm on it. What should he do? These were truly dark arts. Should he return the trunk? But he couldn't. He had to read the notebooks. He had to know.

* * *

"How many of you have committed a crime? How many of you currently are in violation of Ministry regulations?"

The Aurors in the classroom murmured sullenly. A few, however, shifted in their seats uncomfortably.

Sirius looked down at the group. "Hmmm. Each of you, to qualify for the Auror Academy, had to be pretty good at Transfiguration. Okay, how many of you are registered animagi?"

There was an increase in the nervous shifting in seats.

Sirius nodded. "Okay, I am not going to ask you to confess. I'd hate to see the chaos of all of you arresting each other. What I am going to do is ask any of you who are animagi to project onto the blackboard your animagus forms. And I'll make it easy. I'll turn around and face away from you so I don't see who is cross-eyed in concentration to perform that little trick."

There were some chuckles as well a groans and muttering over that comment. Sirius turned around and watched the blackboard. Slowly a circle appeared. Then a smaller circle above it. Than an even smaller circle on top. Then two triangles on top for ears. Then two little semicircles attached to the bottom circle for feet. Then a long tail. Then whiskers on the top circle. A classic child's drawing of a cat.

"There's one," said Sirius, chuckling. "A cat."

Suddenly, an owl appeared. "Oh, interesting."

Then a stick-figure dog. Then a more accurately portrayed dog.

Then a piece of chalk rose to the blackboard. It slowly started writing. 'I-can't-draw," it began. "Falcon."

Sirius waited. After about a minute, he turned back to the class. "Well, given that there have only been a handful of registered animagi in this century, it appears that were have the largest assemblage of animagi in history right here in this room," he said, drawing hearty laughter from the group of 50 mid-level and senior Aurors. "So what does that tell you?"

"That they better build a new wing at Azkaban for all of us," came a voice from the back, drawing guffaws and chuckles.

Cyrus Jordan smiled and nodded. "It means that if we can do it, so can the people we are chasing," he said in his deep, accented voice.

Sirius nodded, acknowledging the murmurs in the group. "So maybe it's time for you all to learn a little bit more about animagi, and unlearn a little about Ministry regulations.

* * *

"Harry?"

Harry looked up, a little startled.

Professor Dumbledore smiled benignly at him. "Could you step into my office for a moment?"

Harry nodded, but gave an inward shutter. 'Had the Headmaster discovered his theft of Burton's Magpie Trunk?' he thought in a panic.

Harry followed the Headmaster to his office. "Necco," Dumbledore said and the gargoyle moved aside to reveal the spiral staircase up to his office. Harry stepped on the moving staircase as if being transported to his doom.

Dumbledore offered Harry a seat and settled behind his desk. "So, Harry, have you felt anything from your scar?"

Harry thought. "No, professor. Nothing."

"No dreams?"

Harry blushed. "Uhhh, no professor."

"Harry?" Dumbledore said skeptically.

Harry rapidly shook his head. "No!" Harry said a little too forcefully.

Dumbledore peered carefully over his half-moon glasses. "Are you sure?"

Harry was blushing furiously.

Suddenly, the twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes. "Ohhhh," he said with understanding. "Those kind of dreams. No matter. I'd be worried if you didn't have those kind of dreams."

Harry squirmed in embarrassment.

"But nothing about Voldemort?"

Harry shook his head.

Dumbledore sighed thoughtfully. "I thought not," he said, as if to himself.

Harry was beginning to recover his composure. "Did something happen?"

Dumbledore looked back at Harry. "There was a minor attack in Lancashire. A couple of Death Eaters throwing around Unforgivables. A few injuries but nothing serious. Both Death Eaters were killed. Poorly coordinated attack. Probably just a spur-of-the-moment thing."

Harry nodded a shivered a little.

"And there was an attempt to get to the nurse who escaped from Voldemort. Again, poorly planned. She wasn't even at home. The Death Eaters who attacked Disapparated before doing any real harm."

Harry nodded in relief.

"So nothing from Voldemort?"

Harry shrugged. "For the first week or so I could feel my skin prickle at times. I don't know if it was him, but it just felt weird."

Dumbledore nodded. Then his face took on a quizzical look. "What's that on your wrist, Harry?"

Harry gave a puzzled look in return and rolled up the sleeve of his robe and shirt. "It was a gift from Hermione," he said quietly as he peered down at the thin bracelet of leather, hair and grass. "It's called an Earth Drawer."

"Hmmm," murmured Dumbledore as he took a closer look. "That's American, is it not? An aboriginal charm?"

Harry blinked and nodded. "It's Indian. Like cowboys and Indians. But I think they're called First Americans or something like that. I think Hermione said it was from a clan called Oji-something."

Dumbledore settled back and seemed to ponder this. "I've heard of them. There is very little known about Native American magic. There are very few texts on it. Their wizards and hard to find and, even if found, are not very forthcoming. Understandable, I suppose, with what their people have been through over the centuries."

"Ojibwe," Harry suddenly said.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"That's the name of the clan...err, tribe that made this," Harry offered.

Dumbledore nodded. "And you are aware of what this charm is supposed to do?"

Harry gave a half shrug. "It's supposed to help draw power from the Earth around you when you need it or something like that."

Dumbledore nodded again. "Ah, yes. I have read about this. As I recall, you focus on the Earth around you, or your immediate surroundings, and the bracelet helps draw an elemental power from the Earth."

Harry gave the Headmaster a quizzical look. "Elemental magic?" he said with wide eyes.

"No, Harry. It does not control the elements. It merely is designed to be a magical amplifier, I believe." Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly. "Also, as I understand, the wearer increases his or her power by adding strands of hair to the bracelet from people or other creatures who are trusted and loved by the wearer and who return that trust and love."

Harry stared at the Headmaster, who opened his eyes and smiled at Harry. "Were you wearing that when you took the stonecutter's test with Professor Flitwick, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I put it on when I got it on my birthday and it seemed to shrink to fit my wrist. I tried to take it off, but I can't seem to. And Hermione was happy I was wearing her present and now Parvati thinks it's cool, so I leave it on."

Dumbledore smiled indulgently and his eyes took on their characteristic twinkle. "So tell me what you were thinking when you were with Professor Flitwick and the blocks of granite."

Harry shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just focused on the stone. It was weird. I started to notice the patterns in the grain of the stone, the colors and sparkles and stuff. How pretty it was when you looked at it closely."

Dumbledore nodded with a broad grin. "The magic works," he said in an almost surprised tone. "I daresay you were actually drawing power from the stone as you used your spell. That's delightful."

Harry looked at Dumbledore in surprise. "What works?"

Dumbledore continued to smile. "You were using the Earth Drawer without even knowing it. It was helping you."

Harry blinked and took a close look at the bracelet. "Wow," he said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded. "I would suggest you keep that little charm, Harry. And learn as much as you can about it. It may come in handy in the future."

Harry nodded and then shifted uncomfortably. He looked up at the Headmaster who continued to smile at him. Suddenly, he couldn't contain himself. "Professor? What happened to Malfoy?"

Dumbledore's face suddenly became solemn. "We don't know. Young Mr. Malfoy is being surprisingly uncooperative. Can you shed any light on the matter?"

Harry looked up, startled. "No Professor. I was at Quidditch practice at the time."

Dumbledore chuckled. "That is not what I mean, Harry. I was just wondering about young Draco."

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "He's been acting oddly ever since we met on the Hogwarts Express. We had a kind of run-in. I accused him and his father of being a house elves for Voldemort."

Dumbledore let out a chuckle. "Quite the image, Harry."

Harry nodded. "But I thought he might come around. He was seeing Reverend Meacham for a while. I don't know if he is any more."

Dumbledore nodded. "We can only hope. Draco has been through a lot in the past couple months, and I fear he is not prepared to deal with it. He is, in many ways, a very sheltered young man. Now he is being forced to grow up very quickly under very trying circumstances. I hope that you can find it in your heart to aid him in this growth."

Harry frowned. "I tried. And he told me he wished me and Parvati dead. He said the same thing to someone else that I've heard. Maybe he's growing up like his father."

Dumbledore sighed. "We must not hold his father's actions against him. His father is a tragedy. He took all the worst of his heritage and discarded all that was good. Draco's grandfather was a very strong man who died too soon. Lucius saw only his father's strength, and not his heart. As a result, he suffered for lack of guidance. Now Draco has been put into a similar circumstance where he now has no one to guide him, for good or for ill. That is why it is up to us to provide what we can to him. Then it will be up to him to accept or reject it."

Harry shook his head.

Dumbledore gave Harry a soft smile. "Harry, I firmly believe that every life is redeemable. It may at times seem to be difficult, or even impossible. But I believe that it is possible in nearly every case," the Headmaster said softly.

Harry hung his head.

Dumbledore continued. "The trick of it is to catch a person early, when he or she is young. It's like catching somebody who is leaping off a building. When they are young and haven't climbed many stairs in life, it is easy to break their fall. And it is easier to convince them to make the leap. As they get older, they find themselves on higher floors, making the leap of faith greater and more frightening. And it makes the capacity for those below to catch them that much more difficult. Young Mr. Malfoy hasn't climbed many stairs yet. It is our job to get him to make that leap of faith now, before he climbs so high as to be unable to make that choice and before he loses the confidence of all those who may be willing to try to catch him."

Harry nodded solemnly without looking up.

Dumbledore peered over his glasses at Harry. "You will let me know if your scar bothers you."

Harry nodded, understanding that he was being dismissed. "I will Professor."

* * *

As Harry had headed off with the Headmaster, Hermione frowned. "I wonder what that's all about?"

Ron shrugged. "He'll tell us when he gets back to the common room," he said in a preoccupied voice.

As the two were walking side by side down the corridor, Ron casually edged closer to Hermione until they gently bumped.

"Ron, watch where you're going," Hermione said in exasperation.

Ron shrugged and kept glancing over at his friend. He took a deep breath and began edging over again. And once again, he casually bumped up against her.

"Ron! Will you cut it out!" Hermione said in annoyance.

Ron sighed and followed her meekly back to the common room.

* * *

Harry stood in the first years' corner of the common room. "Okay, we've already covered the pungere hex. Now remember, it isn't designed to truly damage your opponent. But if you can learn to deliver a series of hexes in quick succession, it keeps your opponent off balance, like he was facing a swarm of bees. Now, have we all been practicing?"

The first years all nodded. So did the second years who had gathered around behind the first years. And several third and fourth years.

"Who wants to give it a try? Jordan?"

Jordan Amon, a shy third year girl, blushed but nodded.

Harry cleared the space and walked over to her. "Close your eyes." Jordan did. Harry spun her around three times as the rest of the students braced themselves. "Now."

Jordan opened her eyes and quickly located the foot-wide leather coated board against the wall. She quickly raised her wand and let loose a series of eight stingers without hesitation. Each hit its mark with a sharp snapping sound against the board.

Harry continued to walk the group through several varieties of hexes and binding spells. He frowned that some of the students got confused or set off their spells prematurely, or took too much time. He looked up at Ron, Hermione and Parvati in exasperation. 'Help,' he mouthed.

His three fifth-year friends chuckled and waded into the group, splitting off the students who were having trouble.

By the time suppertime rolled around, Harry was worn out. "Remember, the next one caught hexing someone for fun gets banned from practice," he said wearily, eyeing Tom 'the Toad' Richardson, who turned away in embarrassment.

Harry slumped onto a firstie couch. He felt someone sit down next to him and glanced over. It was Pat McGrady, who had emerged as the unofficial leader among the first year Gryffindor boys as Sam Bauman had emerged as the girls' leader.

Harry nodded. Pat nodded back. "I've been talking to some of my friends in the other houses and some of them are thinking maybe they'd like to know this."

Harry nodded and waited.

Pat gave a curt nod of his own and continued. "Well, some of them would be interested in talking with you, maybe learn some of what we're learning."

Harry sighed. "And...?"

Pat frowned in concentration. "Well, I'm thinking maybe we take the classes outside to a spare classroom or something. Let some friends come in."

Harry sunk his head on his chest. "I don't know how well that would be accepted. I guess we could do it. But we'll have to see what Professor McGonagall says. And Professor Moody."

Pat nodded and got up.

Harry simply leaned his head back on the couch until Parvati grabbed him to drag him off to supper.

* * *

"Mister Potter! You're teaching the wee ones now?"

Harry started. He had entered the dungeon room where Moody had been tutoring him in dark arts defenses every Thursday afternoon as wary as ever. He never knew whether he would meet a mentor or an opponent. Moody had ambushed him twice before Harry learned to keep his guard up to and from the session. And this had tended to sharpen his awareness at other times as well.

But he was unprepared for Moody's challenge. He simply nodded.

"You know these young ones well?"

Harry nodded again.

Moody, himself, nodded thoughtfully. "What're you teaching them?"

Harry shrugged. "Basic offensive moves. Hexes, stingers, binds."

Moody frowned. "Nothing dangerous yet?"

Harry rubbed his mouth thoughtfully. "I was thinking later on to go to stunners, but I figured I'd watch them first to make sure they don't play with them. I found out one was doing hexes for fun. I gave him hell."

Moody gave a curt nod. "Well, somebody's got to teach them. I'm not allowed. I spend all my time with the first and second years introducing them to dangerous creatures and explaining basic spells and concepts. No real skills until second year."

Harry nodded.

Moody turned both his eyes on Harry. "You ready to teach them?"

Harry nodded. "I promised two afternoons a week with the Gryffindors."

Moody's Magic Eye glanced around. "First years?"

Harry shrugged. "And second years and some third years."

"They any good?"

Harry shrugged. "It was tough the first week teaching them to focus. But now most of them can hit a man-sized target at 15 paces with a hex series, even when I mix them up or spin them."

Now Moody's magic eye returned to stare at Harry. "In series? Straight or mixed."

"Mixed. I don't tell them what they have to cast until I stop spinning them. Most have no trouble mixing their hexes. Now, if I could only figure out a way to present them with a challenge where they have to figure out the best series of hexes to use on their own."

Moody began chuckling. "Looks like you are getting from them what I can't get from some of my fifth and sixth years. Looks like you and I will have to develop a lesson plan."

Harry's head jerked up as he stared at Moody.

"And we'll have to find you a bigger space to work in, if your planning to take them from the other houses."

Harry stared in surprise.

"We'll get you some help, too. Entwhistle's pretty good from Ravenclaw. And maybe the girl, Macdougal, and maybe the fourth year, Hatten. Malfoy's the only one worth my spit from Slytherin and I wouldn't let that git near your group. Even the sixth years are wasting their time in my class. Macmillan in Hufflepuff is the only one I'd let near a wand. Charlie Peoples is strong, but lazy. Your year?"

"Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Parvati Patil."

"Patil? Your gal?" Moody asked with a knowing chuckle.

Harry nodded. "She's great with the young ones," he said defensively.

Moody nodded knowingly. "I'll get you the space. We'll get a plan together. The rest'll be up to you."

Harry nodded, his head down.

"EN GARDE!!!" Moody cried, and the practice duel was on.

* * *

"I think he's gone mental," Padma Patil whispered to her boyfriend, Terry Boot, as they strolled around the grounds.

Terry looked up absently. "Who?"

Padma rolled her eyes. "Who do you think?"

Terry looked out across the grounds. The only person he saw was Draco Malfoy, who was wandering around the perimeter of the lake with a long stick, reaching out into the water, seemingly prodding the mud. "Draco?"

Padma shook her head. "No, Elgrin the Eldritch."

Terry tilted his head and gave her a strange look.

"Oh, of course, Malfoy. Ever since his father tried to kill my sister and Harry and his mother killed herself, he's been acting weird. And I think that beating he got scrambled his brains."

Terry shrugged. "Maybe he's interested in aquaculture. It's very useful knowledge, you know."

Padma sighed. 'Terry is such an airhead. What was I thinking?' she thought.

* * *

Ernie Macmillan has breathing heavily. He had his arms around her and he could tell she was breathing heavily too. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly. But the kiss gradually became more urgent. Slowly and carefully, Ernie's hand slipped under her waistband. She moaned into his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

Betty Lewis, a fourth-year Hufflepuff, looked up at Ernie with unfocused eyes. "So are you," she said in a throaty voice before kissing him again.

* * *

There was a gentle tapping at the window. Draco looked up at the window to see a large barn owl seeking entry. He scowled. For Greinglass, or maybe Blythe. Or another secret message from...him," he thought sullenly.

Draco was tempted to ignore the owl, but finally threw down the Dark Arts text he had stolen out of the library and opened the window. The owl flew over and settled on Draco's bed.

He frowned, seeing a letter and a package. He shook his head and went over to his desk to find an owl treat. He tossed the treat to the owl as he casually, and with a little trepidation, detached the letter and package. He blinked. The letter was from Carmina Malfoy Delaney.

Dear Draco,

I hope you got my previous letter.

I write this again in sorrow for all you are going through. I cannot find the words to console you. All I can do is offer you what I offered your mother: A home if you need it. We don't have a lot, but what we have is yours to share.

I despair for your lovely mother Narcissa. She had been through so much and deserved so much better. I only wish that I had the foresight to go to her in person to offer her refuge when they took the Manor, rather than doing so by owl. Perhaps someone being there with her would have eased her pain.

I know how much she loved you. And I know she would always provide you with little gifts to make your life at school a little brighter. I understand I can't replace her. But I can only try to help. So I've sent you a little something. It's not much. Just consider it a gift from your mother through me. As I said, we don't have much, but I will try to send you a little something from time to time to try to brighten your day.

Love,

Your Aunt Carmina and Uncle Bill

Draco dropped the letter and stared at the box. It had two Xs. He absently tapped the box twice. "Amplificare," he muttered, and the box enlarged to about a foot square. He tore the wrapping off and opened it and stared.

Chocolate Frogs. And orange-flavored Sugar Quills, his favorite. And a little envelope. Inside were ten golden galleons and a note: 'It's not much, but every boy deserves a little walking-around money on Hogsmeade weekends,' it read.

Draco reached into the box and unwrapped a chocolate frog, which wriggled twice before resuming its shape as a simple candy treat. He closed his eyes and leaned back into his pillows. As he bit a piece of the frog, a tear ran down his cheek.

The text by Orfeo Torre lay forgotten at his side. It was opened to the chapter he had reread several times already. It was a chapter titled simply: Loew in Prague-1680.

* * *


Author notes: Author’s Note: Sorry for the long delay in posting this update, but a family illness prevented quicker posting. Please read & review.

Also, yes, indeed, there was a famous British explorer, author and mystic named Richard Burton who lived in the 19th century who did indeed write of his travels throughout Africa and the Middle East. He was the discoverer of Lake Victoria and translator of the Arabian Nights adventures. He was known to carry an enormous amount of books and papers in a large black and white trunk known as ‘The Magpie Trunk.’ And, upon Burton’s death in 1890, Lady Isabel Burton did move to No. 5 Baker Street for a brief time, before moving to No. 67 Baker Street, making her a neighbor to the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes. And yes, the Ananga Ranga is Burton’s translation of a 16th Century Indian marriage manual that begins with a reference to Parvati, the wife of Shiva and the most powerful female Indian deity.