A Little Knowledge

Contrary to predictions made by Ignatius Ambrose, Ravenclaw was slated to play against Gryffindor on the second Saturday in March. This meant that the reserve players, and Olivia, who was attending every practice, were sent back to the sidelines while the regular players took to the field to prepare themselves for the final match of the season. Gryffindor was certainly no pushover, and Ravenclaw was desperate to finish the Quidditch season with a win that would put them in second place, after the undefeated Lions, and put them closer to winning the House Cup, for which they were in second place, also after Gryffindor. And no one enjoyed being second fiddle to the house of scarlet and gold.

The past weeks, which had only just begun to fill with talks of Quidditch, had been relatively tranquil, though Martin was continuing to have nightmares, most of a more subdued nature than the one that had caught the attention of his parents. He was receiving regular letters from Alastor, who had been fitted with a wooden leg that he was learning to use. These letters were slowly allaying his fears concerning what would become of his favorite uncle.

But a different shadow of fear and dread continued to stalk him, despite the fact that Martin did everything possible to keep that shadow at bay. He had finally made his decision regarding the vampire, but only time would tell if it were the correct one.

Much of school life had returned to normal, although the security measures all remained firmly in place and no one relaxed their guard as the general feeling was that the vampire remained a threat. But none of the teachers, except perhaps Professor Krohn, wanted their students to feel afraid or overly concerned, so talk about the fanged menace in the forest was kept to a minimum outside the staff room and offices.

Corinna was still trying to sort out what was going to happen before the end of the term. She felt quite certain that the matter would be resolved before then and told all of her friends so, including Martin, who was not informed of her prediction that they all might die. They unanimously agreed that Martin should not be privy to that tidbit of information as it seemed unhealthy for him to know that, mostly due to his nightmares and already low spirits.

Quidditch practice had kept her from Professor Mallaghan’s office for the better part of three weeks, although they had exchanged owls, which always made Corinna feel much better. She wanted to share some of the things she knew and had seen with him, but could not begin to think how to do so without alarming him in the extreme. And that wasn’t something she wanted to do at this point. In addition to that, she suspected that he would not be able to help her until she had pinned down more or less what would happen. Such information did not come for the asking either.

The other girls were worried, of course, by her predictions, but they were also well occupied by all of their schoolwork, keeping an eye on Martin, and watching out for Astrophel Black, who still seemed bent on wanting revenge. The early months of spring, at least as far as many young Ravenclaws were concerned, were the busiest part of the term, not counting end of term exams, and these Ravenclaws were no different.

On the day of the match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, the weather turned from fair skies to a drizzling spring rain, to the slight disappointment of players and spectators alike, although nothing could dampen their spirits entirely. After such an unpleasant winter, a game of Quidditch was a welcome diversion, rain or no rain.

Corinna had managed a light breakfast with the team, all of whom were very eager to face their Gryffindor rivals, even Alec Sexton, who normally reserved his enthusiasm for his confrontations with their captain. After the tie with Hufflepuff, the Ravenclaw team was desperate for a win and wanted to end the season on the highest possible note, which meant defeating Gryffindor and claiming second place. Olivia had told her the odds, and they weren’t especially good, but Corinna still felt hopeful as she looked at the determination on the faces of her teammates.

“They haven’t practiced like we have,” said Ambrose, furtively glancing over his shoulder at the opposing team, who were all eating together at their house table. Only the Quidditch teams were eating so early.

Corinna thought the Gryffindors seemed too boisterous and confident, rather cocky actually.

“Has anyone? Crikey, Ambrose, we’ve been at it every spare minute we’ve had,” said Sexton with a slight sneer.

“Potter’s getting soft,” said Cole in a low growl, “but he’s gone next year and I don’t know if Prewett or Bailey would be his heir apparent.”

“Not Prewett,” said Parker.

“Not Bailey,” said Savage with a smirk.

“Nice surprise for next year, aye?” laughed Ambrose shortly, not liking the idea of a Beater in charge of a Quidditch team. That was just asking for trouble in his opinion. Beaters were known for their tempers, not their leadership abilities.

“Just for Alec, Corinna, Edgar, and you,” Manfred North pointed out to them with a wry smile. The rest of the team would be leaving school in May after taking their Newts.

“Our last match together as a team ...” said Ambrose.

“Wish we could go out in a blaze of glory,” said Sexton in a half-wistful tone.

“Maybe we will,” said Corinna.

The grass squelched beneath her boots as Corinna walked out onto the pitch with her teammates. The damp scent of rain and the outdoors was very pleasant and welcoming so early in the morning. Corinna breathed it in deeply, drinking in the fresh and wholesome smell that reminded her how much she enjoyed Quidditch.

Helen Parker at her elbow wrinkled her nose and tried to keep her broom dry by holding it closer to her chest as she walked. Corinna had considered charming her clothes, but as none of her teammates had done it ... she decided against the measure. The cold and wet were both tolerable to her.

Sexton, walking a pace ahead of her, was grumbling about the weather in a low voice. The only indication of how important this game was to them was the stony silence that had settled over Ambrose as he led them out onto the pitch. He no longer smiled and hardly seemed to blink.

“Mount your brooms,” Madam Hooch instructed both teams with a serious expression, but excitement in her oddly hawk-like eyes.

Corinna zipped to her position in from of the Ravenclaw goals as speedily as her broomstick would carry her, watching over her shoulder as William Potter, the Gryffindor captain and Chaser, out maneuvered Ambrose for the Quaffle. This was not the best way to start a match.

“Potter claims the Quaffle for Gryffindor!” shouted the announcer, Amos Diggory of Hufflepuff house, in a rather gleeful voice. He wasn’t usually very biased in his announcing, but Corinna had the feeling that he favored Gryffindor over Ravenclaw.

Corinna braced herself as Potter rocketed down the pitch with Ambrose and Parker right at his heels. Sexton struck from above, nabbing the Quaffle from the surprised seventh year Chaser and quickly passing it to Ambrose, who wheeled around at break-neck speed and started toward the Gryffindor goals, narrowly avoiding a hard Bludger from Prewett. Corinna let out a sigh of relief.

Ambrose made it down the pitch and went for the goal, but the Gryffindor Keeper stopped the attempt with a natural ease that made Corinna envious. She hurled the ball to Algernon Longbottom, the team’s youngest Chaser, who nearly crashed into Edith Savage. She threatened him with her bat, but the Bludger was across the field, being knocked back and forth by Prewett and Bailey, much to her chagrin.

The Quaffle was almost immediately retrieved by Sexton, who elbowed Longbottom in the face in the process. Corinna thought he was lucky not to have been fouled for cobbing. This time Alec kept possession as he sped by Ambrose near the middle of the field. Parker was at his left elbow, flying interference for him as Potter zoomed toward them.

Potter attempted to skin Parker to get her out of the way, but she would rather have died than let him bully her. She gave him a quick kick in the ribs to keep him off of her. That seemed to do the trick.

By this time Cole had intercepted the Bludger and knocked it directly at Potter. The vicious little ball sailed past him and nearly took a piece of out of Prewett’s left shoulder. She grimaced, but thankfully -- from Gryffindor’s perspective -- it had not made contact with her bat-arm.

“And Prewett takes one for the team!” yelled Diggory over the noise of the crowd.

Corinna tried not to roll her eyes.

Ambrose went for a goal, feinting left and then right before going for the left goal with every ounce of strength he possessed. The Quaffle grazed the Keeper’s fingertips before sailing through the hoop. He let out a whoop of delight that carried all the way down field.

“Ten points to Ravenclaw! They’re first on the board,” announced Diggory.

Corinna grinned for a moment, but her smile faded as Potter took up the Quaffle again after a momentary scuffle with Ambrose. He was racing down field again. Potter performed a loop in mid air to avoid a Bludger sent by Savage. This threw him off course enough for Parker to have a go at taking the Quaffle from him, but he managed to shake her off rather easily. There was a wolfish grin on his face as he approached the goals.

She knew that she couldn’t out maneuver him on her decrepit broom, especially considering his flying skills, but she had no choice but to defend the goals in any way that she could.

William threw the Quaffle toward the center goal, and Corinna desperately attempted to block it. Her heart soared as it hit her hand and bounced toward Parker, who caught it easily. Potter looked crestfallen but resolute as he went after the Ravenclaw Chaser. She was quick to pass the ball to Ambrose as he was well away from Potter, and the Gryffindor menace, Molly Prewett. This was a neat bit of teamwork.

“That was a close one for Ravenclaw,” said Diggory in a half-wistful tone.

Corinna blinked as North and the Gryffindor Seeker Archie Pettigrew flew by her at top speed, certainly after the Golden Snitch, though Pettigrew, who was in his sixth year and a rather decent Seeker, also had a Bludger on his tail courtesy of Devin Cole. She couldn’t follow their progress as she was concentrating on the action from the Chasers, but she imagined that little Pettigrew would be able to shake off the Bludger without losing sight of the Snitch.

Ambrose went for a goal, but was thwarted by Angelica Hooper, the Keeper for Gryffindor, who immediately tossed the Quaffle back to Potter.

The match went on for a long time with the Quaffle being tossed back and forth and the two Seekers valiantly attempting to nab the Snitch, but few points were scored and the little golden ball remained illusive. Gryffindor was ahead by twenty points when the rain finally began to let up. That was hardly an insurmountable lead as the Ravenclaws showed no sign of giving up.

Corinna brushed her rain-plastered hair away from her face, grateful that the rain had mostly helped her to keep it out of her way.

Across the pitch Ambrose was trying for another goal with Parker and Sexton flanking him to keep the Gryffindor Chasers at bay. They were doing a good job, and it looked like he was going to reach his destination unopposed. Then a Bludger from Bailey caused Sexton to swerve off course, nearly crashing into Manfred, who had been scouting high above the pitch until just moments before. This gave Longbottom the opportunity to the knock the Quaffle out of Ambrose’s hands. It was retrieved almost instantly by Potter, who had very sharp reflexes.

The expert Chaser looped vertically in mid air and started toward the Ravenclaw goal posts. Corinna had not been able to block several shots from Potter, although to be fair the Slytherin and Hufflepuff teams had fared no better against him. But she was ready this time as she had a pretty good idea of which way he was going to feint.

As Potter lifted his arm to hurl the Quaffle toward the left goal, after feinting sharply to the left and rolling over in mid air to reposition, everything seemed to slow down. Corinna swung toward the left goal and released her broomstick with both hands in order to block and catch the Quaffle, which was well within her reach.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see something dark and fast moving toward her. The thought that it was a Bludger from Prewett just barely registered. She had to decide which was more important: defending the goal or dodging the Bludger. Corinna wasn’t sure where the nearest Ravenclaw Beater was, but she didn’t think the Bludger could be stopped in time. She took a deep breath, threw her arms up to catch the Quaffle, and braced for the impact, hoping that she wouldn’t fumble the Quaffle when she was hit.

Corinna gasped in pain when the Bludger struck her from the side, colliding with her ribs. There was a sickening crunch that she recognized as the sound of bones breaking. She clutched the Quaffle desperately as she lurched to one side on her broom. Spots danced before her eyes. She had underestimated Prewett’s skill with the bat. And how painful a Bludger to the ribs actually was.

“Cripes,” she managed.

“Oy! Bellew!” called Sexton.

She tossed the Quaffle toward the sound of his voice as she continued to list to the right on her broom, struggling to take a breath, which was becoming more and more difficult. She was spiraling downward rather quickly, but couldn’t grasp her broom handle well enough to pull up. She didn’t have the strength and the wherewithal to manage that feat.

Her ears were ringing, but she could still here the sound of Amos Diggory and the roaring crowd: “Looks like Prewett’s not the only one who’s taken one for the team today!”

Corinna was expecting to hit the ground none too gently when a pair of arms grabbed her from beneath the shoulders. This caused her considerable pain, but even so, she imagined that it was better than crashing.

“Molly gets a bit over-zealous at times,” said a firm, but friendly voice in her ear as she was lowered to the ground.

She was still seeing spots, which were in fact growing bigger, but Corinna was surprised to see the face of William Potter bent over her. The goals were undefended. Why wasn’t he chasing Sexton down for the Quaffle? Had Madam Hooch stopped the match? Corinna didn’t know Potter well enough to realize that he would never have let an injured second year plunge more than twenty feet to the ground, not even one from another house. He was competitive, but he just wasn’t like that.

“Is she all right?” called Ambrose.

She could hear him jogging across the soggy ground; his Quidditch boots squeaked and squelched on the grass. Her team captain sounded more than a bit anxious.

“The game ...” she wheezed as her team’s captain approached.

“Manfred caught the Snitch just as you got hit by the Bludger. We won,” Ambrose informed her with a wide smile.

This explained the roaring of the crowd, which had yet to cease. Of course, it also meant that her little stunt had been positively pointless. She grimaced at that thought and the continuing severe discomfort, which was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“A fine match,” said William to both of the younger players by way of congratulation.

Corinna watched the team captains shake hands and closed her eyes, feeling awfully sleepy and hoping that it wouldn’t hurt so much after she had shut her eyes for a bit...


The sensation of time passing in the darkness made her feel quite uncomfortable and disoriented, but the pain was gone. She grateful for that at least. She wasn’t sure what she had been thinking when she had let that Bludger hit her. She should have dodged, she decided, and the goal behind her be damned. It had been completely unnecessary and hadn’t profited her or the team one ruddy bit.

Slowly she became aware of odd sounds all around her, sounds of the outdoors and the forest. The noise of the crowd was gone. There were no voices, only the far off twitter of birds and the sound of mournful crickets. She shivered involuntarily and opened her eyes.

Corinna could see a dark sky above her through the interlaced branches of trees that were just beginning to lose their leaves. She blinked as she realized that this was all wrong and shivered again as she sat up. There were dry, crackling leaves beneath her and in her hair.

“Where am I?” she wondered. “How in Merlin’s name did I get here? I should be on the pitch ... or in the hospital wing.”

Corinna slowly clambered to her feet and checked her side for injury. The cracked or broken ribs seemed to have mysteriously mended. She chose not to ponder this as she began to survey her surroundings.

She was standing in a shadowy wood. It was sometime between sunset and nightfall, just after dusk had fallen, but before the light completely failed. She could just make out the shapes of the tall trees around her. She appeared to be situated in a small clearing.

Turning around to look behind her, Corinna started and bit back a scream. A torch flared to life, illuminating a roughly hewn stone slab that stood in the center of the clearing. At the far end of the stone stood Christoph Somerville in tattered black robes that hung loosely from his thin frame. He had lit the torch and placed it in a makeshift holder that stuck out of the ground near where he stood. Corinna gasped sharply as she realized that although he was pale and sickly, Somerville was still mortal.

“You’ve come. I was so certain that you wouldn’t,” said a heavily accented voice from among the trees.

“What choice have I?” asked Somerville with a mechanical and lifeless shrug. “If I am to avenge my master, I must do this. I must lengthen my life ... even if this is the only way left to me,” he said into the darkness to his right.

As he turned his head Corinna could see hatred and desperation in his gaze ... and fear too. Somerville was afraid of whatever lurked out of sight in the trees. As it stepped forward, Corinna could understand why. It was a vampire.

It towered over Somerville, who shrank from the undead creature of darkness as it stepped into the torch light. The vampire regarded him coolly, but Corinna could see an unholy hunger glowing in its red eyes and sense its desire to feed from Somerville. But it did not attempt to take Somerville by force. It merely stood next to the slab, looking at him, and waited.

“If I am caught, I will be destroyed. This is, as you well know, quite forbidden,” the vampire informed him languidly.

“Yes, but you will not be caught,” said Somerville, reaching up to his throat with shaking hands and unfastening his collar.

“I could ... simply kill you,” it told him, revealing its fangs in a smile.

“Yes, and the world might be a better place for it, but I don’t think you will,” he responded quickly and confidently. The confidence seemed very forced.

“Let us get on with it then. I don’t not like to linger in the old haunts of my kind. Nostalgia does not suit those of my lineage,” said the vampire.

“Of course,” said Somerville.

Corinna crept closer, almost against her will, to watch as Somerville stretched out upon the stone slam, clenching his fists at his sides and staring up into the starry night sky overhead. The vampire circled him once before pausing and setting one knee on the stone next to his victim. He leaned down and further unbuttoned the black, tattered robes that covered Somerville. The pale skin of his chest and throat gleamed with sweat in the light of the torch. The vampire leaned down, pressing his body against the wizard’s, and slipped his arms beneath Somerville’s. He was trapped between the stone and the vampire. There could be no turning back.

She stood no more than three feet away when the vampire placed his mouth to Somerville’s neck. Her heart hammered in horror as Somerville’s mouth opened and he emitted a strangled cry of pain. Or was it ecstasy? She could not tell. She did not want to know.

Somerville jerked and quivered as the vampire fed upon him, drinking deep draughts of his blood. His back arched as the color began leaving his skin and a soft, familiar hiss escaped from his lips. Somerville and the vampire seemed to become one in that moment.

Corinna saw that his fists clutched handfuls of the vampire’s robes, but his grip grew slack as life fled from within his body and into the vampire, who trembled with longing and desire after so many years without drinking of a vintage so fine as that which it now greedily sucked from Somerville, almost heedless of their bargain.

Then the vampire removed his mouth from the neck of his willing prey. There was a satiated, nearly glutted look on its face as it looked down at Somerville’s unseeing, glazed eyes and deathly white skin. It removed one of the arms that had so easily pinned the wizard and touched its own bloodied lips. Touching that finger to Somerville’s lips, it grinned unwholesomely as the newly born vampire sucked the carmine substance eagerly from his finger.

“It is done,” said the vampire.

Corinna watched Somerville blink and shiver. As the bleariness left his eyes, she knew that he now looked as he would always: thin and pale, but with ruby red lips, painted with his own blood. He was no longer a mortal man nor strictly speaking a wizard. It was a vampire who lay there looking up at the stars and waiting for the pain to subside. Anything that had remained of the man who had been professor of Legilimency and Occlumency was gone forever.

Not knowing why, Corinna reached down, gently touched his hair, and wept.

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