A Little Knowledge

Watching the professor of Divinations prepare the vision-inducing draught was quite fascinating to Corinna. Professor Mallaghan had insisted that his skills in the area of potion-making were limited, but she suspected that he was being modest. He seemed quite skillful as he measured out a few drops of the potion and mixed them with hot water and a pinch of salt in a teacup. She imagined that she would muff the procedure and blow the entire tower to smithereens if she did it. But then, in actuality, the draught was probably not explosive.

“We should let it sit and cool for a few moments,” he told her, placing the cup on the table by her chair.

The steam that wafted up smelled of exotic spices and other unfamiliar elements. A lot of it would have made her feel quite drowsy, Corinna imagined as she inhaled the scent, which was quite pleasant and almost sweet. This was especially reassuring as she would be drinking the concoction when it had cooled sufficiently.

Professor Mallaghan settled into his comfortable chair and watched Corinna as she stared at the steaming cup.

“You can still change your mind, my dear,” he said gently. “I won’t be disappointed,” he assured her.

“I have to do this,” she said with quiet conviction.

“I understand,” Mallaghan told her, nodding as he recognized that tone of voice.

His son had spoken that way of his mission to warn the people of Sedan. She was much younger, but she had the same unassuming inner strength as Thomas had possessed.

“You may drink it now if it isn’t too warm for you,” he informed Corinna gently.

“What will happen?” she asked, lifting the cup.

“If it works? I don’t actually know,” he said with a sheepish look.

Corinna took a deep breath before putting the cup to her lips and drinking. The taste of the liquid was surprisingly bitter as she swallowed it. She hoped that they both knew what they were doing. When she had drained the cup, she set it aside and looked at Mallaghan, waiting for it to take effect.

“Well?” he asked her curiously.

She frowned, not feeling any different, except for the slightly sour, not quite metallic taste in her mouth.

“I don’t think it worked,” she said.

“Give it a moment, lass. You mustn’t be too impatient with such things,” he said in an encouraging tone as he watched her carefully for any reaction.

Corinna was a bit disappointed as she had felt certain that the draught would work on her. She knew that she wasn’t always right about such things and had been wrong about a goodly number of things, especially lately. Maybe this was just one more. She tried to be patient, but it wasn’t easy for her. She could only imagine what it would be like for Olivia or Sissy if they tried something like this. Neither girl had anything remotely resembling patience.

Then a peculiar sleepiness began to steal over her. The sensation was like someone pulling up the covers and passing a hand over her eyes, closing them and darkening the world around her. It was quite extraordinary, though just a bit frightening too.

“It’s working,” she thought as the darkness engulfed her.


Corinna was disoriented for a moment as the blackness receded and left her standing in a familiar corridor of the castle. She was somewhere between the hospital wing and a few of the professor’s offices. She glanced out a nearby window to find that it was dark outside.

The sound of quick, echoing footsteps behind her caused Corinna to start and turn. She gasped aloud when she saw Somerville there, striding purposefully toward her with a handkerchief to his nose and an enraged look on his face. His eyes glittered with great ire. His anger was nearly tangible. It seemed to ripple out in waves all around him, cloaking him in what Corinna could only describe as a profound and terrible darkness. She had never seen him like this before.

Then she blinked and realized that Somerville was also quite young and wearing an embroidered dressing gown over pale blue pajamas. The way he carried himself as he marched purposefully down the corridor told her that he was a professor, not a student, although perhaps he had not held his position very long. She marked his age at about twenty-five, younger than he had seemed in her first vision of him, but not very much so.

She followed quickly after Somerville and watched him take the blood-splattered hankie from his nose. He swiftly put it back as his nose was still bleeding. She wondered if he had been in a fight.

“Damn Dumbledore to hell,” he muttered through his teeth in seething rage.

This surprised Corinna a great deal as she struggled to keep up with his long strides, which were taking them to the hospital wing. What quarrel did he have with the Transfigurations’ professor? Had they dueled or something?

When they reached the hospital wing, Somerville opened the door with his free hand and walked inside without slowing down. Corinna was surprised that the doors did not open for him the way that they sometimes did for others, including Professor Dumbledore.

He halted when he reached the center of the empty ward, removed the handkerchief from his face, and bellowed, “Rosie!”

Corinna imagined that he was referring to the mediwitch who had run the hospital wing before Madam Pomfrey, but then she remembered that Madam Plummer, whose first name had certainly not been Rosie, had not been so old when she retired. This was the mediwitch before her that Somerville called for.

A slender witch, possibly in her forties, with lovely nut brown hair that hung loosely just past her shoulders emerged from the corridor that led to the mediwitch’s office. She looked a bit put out, possibly by Somerville’s shout. Corinna couldn’t help but notice that she was rather pretty and not precisely matronly.

“Chris, what’s the matter?” she questioned.

Corinna raised an eyebrow at her familiar form of address. Here was someone who apparently knew Somerville and quite well at that! She could not help but notice that Rosie had an accent similar to Professor Mallaghan’s, although her Irish brogue was less muted.

He held up the handkerchief and stated simply, “I had a little accident. Could you give me something to stanch the bleeding? It’s becoming a bit worrisome, and I can’t stop it.”

“You weren’t...” she began to ask anxiously.

Somerville’s lip curled into a slight sneer as he said, “I wasn’t practicing in my usual fashion. I just happened to find out that I have a colleague who is very skilled in Occlumency. He taught me an unnecessarily painful lesson, if you must know, Rosie.”

“I should say that it serves you right, but I don’t like taking sides in these matters,” she told him, pursing her lips. “Come sit down while I get something to fix you up,” she added less harshly.

“Thank you, Rosie,” he said, holding the hankie to his nose again as the mediwitch dashed away to get something to help him clot.

Corinna felt puzzled as she followed Somerville to the nearest hospital bed where he sat down. If she understood everything properly, he had attempted to Legilimence Professor Dumbledore -- to what purpose was unclear -- and the elder professor had responded by repulsing Somerville in such a fashion as it had given him a severe bloody nose. Was this what stood between the two of them? Dumbledore had hurt the other professor’s pride, and Somerville had carried that vendetta for more than half a century?

She thought that it was very possible.

Rosie returned swiftly with a cup of some horribly noxious-smelling potion that Christoph downed without question.

“Tastes as foul as it smells,” he commented, returning the cup to the middle-aged mediwitch.

“Tell that to the one who made it,” said Rosie wryly.

“I don’t think I will. Snape would have my guts for ingredients if I insulted one of his brews,” said Somerville with a slight sneer.

“Indeed,” she chuckled, “and Modestus would complain about the quality too.”

Somerville pressed the hankie to his nose and gave it an approving look. The bleeding had stopped.

“Do you want to tell me exactly what happened?” questioned Rosie with a compassionate look, sitting down next to him on the hospital bed.

“I was under the impression that I already had,” he stated, growing more aloof. Something in his slight accent grew thicker as he spoke.

Corinna watched curiously as Rosie slipped her arm around the young professor’s shoulders. There was a flicker of some soft expression in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the customary hardness that remained there.

“Chris, do me this one favor: don’t push yourself as you have been. It isn’t good for you,” the mediwitch told him.

“Madam, it is no concern of yours,” he said simply, shrugging off her arm as he stood.

She did not look offended, only sad, as she rose as well.

“Then go to bed, professor, and try to get some rest. You appear to be in need of it,” she instructed calmly.

Somerville looked at her for a moment before nodding in silent agreement and walking out of the ward.

Corinna began to follow him, but something stopped her in her tracks. She turned and looked toward the corridor that led to the office and chambers of the school mediwitch. Someone was standing there. A wizard in pajamas and a robe emerged from the shadows.

He was very short, especially compared to the mediwitch, and had sandy brown hair that was beginning to thin on top. The wizard was in his middling years, probably closer to sixty than to fifty, but rather trim, though he shuffled his feet a bit as he walked toward Rosie.

Corinna blinked as she realized that he looked an awfully lot like Professor Mallaghan.

“Rosie, my dear, don’t trouble yourself about young Somerville. He’s just got a bit of growing up to do. That’s all,” he told her, holding out his arms to her.

She smiled as she melted into his embrace and said, “I know you’re right, Joseph, but I ... I can’t help but to worry.”

Corinna could hardly believe it! Rosie appeared to be Mallaghan’s wife. She knew that he had been married, but she had never thought about what the witch in question would have looked like or any of that. She was rather surprised, not just because of how lovely Rosie was, but because she was the school mediwitch too. It was difficult to believe that Mallaghan would have married someone like her. Despite her beauty, she seemed so grounded and so ordinary compared to the professor.

“I know, love, but you can worry in bed just as well as here,” he said, coaxing her toward out of the ward and toward their rooms and giving her a kiss on the cheek.


The hospital wing melted, but Corinna did not find herself back in the Divinations tower, which unnerved her more than words could express. She had expected the vision to end. It did not.

She found herself standing outside the castle where a throng of people, many of whom she recognized as professors, were standing together with downcast expressions on their faces. Armando Dippet, looking very much younger than when she had last seen him, was in the crowd along with Professor Dumbledore, whose auburn beard was neatly trimmed, and Professor Mallaghan, who was rocking back and forth on his heels. Many of the other professors were unfamiliar to Corinna.

“That’s the end of him then,” said a tall and reedy wizard in gauzy gray robes and lop-sided hat. He shook his head ruefully.

“We can’t simply stop searching, headmaster,” said Professor Mallaghan with concern shining in his eyes. “That poor boy is probably still out there, needing our help, needing us to find him...”

“Joseph, he’s been missing for eight days now,” said the headmaster, whose name Corinna did not know. He had held the position for a relatively short time. “If the wolves haven’t had at him by now, I would be very much surprised.”

“He’s probably fallen into a bog,” said Professor Binns, adjusting his spectacles and seeming nonchalant about the whole affair.

“It’s a pity we couldn’t have done more ...” said Dippet.

Dumbledore was strangely silent and had his hands clasped behind him as the others argued. He hardly even seemed to be paying attention.

The headmaster patted shorter Dippet’s shoulder and said, “We all did what we could. It’s a great shame to lose someone so young and full of promise as Somerville, but he was driven mad by his own devices. Let that be a lesson to the rest of us.”

Corinna couldn’t help but notice that his gaze strayed toward Dumbledore as he spoke.

“Then the matter is closed?” asked Binns.

“Yes,” said the headmaster.

They began to disperse, walking from the grounds back to the castle, but as Dumbledore passed by Corinna, she heard him murmur, “I don’t believe it really is.”

Mallaghan lagged behind with a crestfallen demeanor. His shuffling steps were loath to carry him back to the castle. Then Corinna heard someone call out to him.

“Joseph!”

He looked up instantly, but couldn’t quite manage a smile as the spring breeze ruffled thinning his hair.

“Rosie,” Mallaghan yelled back to his wife, who was standing on the stairs, waiting for him with a gray-green shawl about her shoulders.

He trudged along, but she was not content to wait and sprang down the stairs to meet him.

“What’s happened?” she asked anxiously.

“The search has been called off. Somerville ... they’ve decided, is dead,” he informed her. “I’m sorry, my dear. I know how much he reminded you...”

“No,” she interrupted, “don’t say it.”

Corinna could see tears in the older woman’s eyes. She blinked them away rapidly and inclined her chin.

Mallaghan nodded and put an arm around her waist. He shook his head wearily and said something incomprehensible in Gaelic.

“God rest his soul,” Rosie whispered, leaning her head against her husband’s as they returned to the castle.


The castle grounds flew away from Corinna in a rush of early-spring green and muted blue, nearly taking her breath with it as the colors flew by her. As everything halted again, her stomach lurched and she was afraid that she would be ill. The uncomfortable feeling quickly passed as shapes and forms coalesced around her and grew solid and tangible again.

Corinna had the immediate sense that she was no longer at Hogwarts nor anywhere nearby. She was in a dungeon that was very different from those at the school. The room had been converted from what she surmised to be a torture chamber -- there were still chains on the walls and dark splotches on the stone that looked to be very old blood -- to meeting room, complete with a large oaken table and many chairs. An especially fine chair was at the head of this table.

The torchlight guttered slightly as she noticed a man seated there, reading over parchments. He lifted his face as the light flickered. Corinna did not recognize him and drew closer to see him better in the relatively dim light. This was certainly a poor place in which to read. As she stepped nearer Corinna thought for a moment that she heard the ominous sound of thunder outside.

The wizard half-rose from his chair with an annoyed look on his rather rectangular face, which was etched with heavy lines of what she took to be worry. His eyes were small and a very pale blue, though they were bloodshot as well. He rubbed them before sitting down again and brushing his gray hair from his furrowed brow. There was something curiously sinister about the man, who was dressed in dusty wizard’s robes that had been rather fine some time in the not so distant past.

“Took you long enough,” he said in heavy accent.

Corinna suspected that he was German as he sounded a bit like Professor Krohn.

“They put up a fight,” said a familiar voice from behind her.

Corinna started and turned to find Somerville, much older and with a more worldly and callous look in his eyes, standing there with a sack slung over his shoulder.

“You have them before Christmas, my lord; isn’t that all that matters?” asked Somerville, adjusting his burden just a bit.

Corinna thought that she could smell something odd and very unpleasant coming from the sack.

The wizard at the table made a sweeping gesture and said, “Of course, my dear Christoph. Those were my orders.”

Somerville smiled, and it was a very unwholesome smile, as he put the sack down and opened it. The odor that emanated from it made Corinna want to gag. It was the scent of blood and the beginning of decay. She shrank away from Somerville and his parcel as much as she possibly could and covered her nose and mouth with her hands. She was terribly afraid to know what was in that sack, but she knew she was going to find out despite that. Both Somerville and his confederate seemed unbothered.

“The first of the traitors,” said Somerville, reaching into the heavy canvas bag.

He removed a severed head, holding it up by its long and dingy brown hair so that the wizard could see its face clearly. Corinna cringed and tried to turn away, but she could not.

“Michael thought he could outwit me. Foolish boy,” chuckled the elder wizard as he looked into the unseeing eyes. “Have you his hands as well? I have a special purpose for them,” he said rather glibly.

“I have them all. Three pair, my lord,” said Somerville, placing the head upon the table, facing the other man, “although I cannot readily say which belonged to whom, except for the witch’s hands, of course. They are quite delicate, and she wore a dainty ring upon her right hand.”

“No matter,” he replied. “I’m not so fussy as all that, now am I, Christoph?”

“Of course not,” said Somerville with a bit of a smile.

Corinna couldn’t take her eyes from the head that sat tilted slightly to one side on the table. The sight was too gruesome and horrible, and worse still, she thought she saw something familiar in its long face and heavy features, though she could not say precisely what.

“See that the hands are packaged up properly, by twos as best you may, and sent to that filthy coward on Christmas morning,” he ordered Somerville briskly. Then he sighed, almost as though he could not smell the decaying flesh on the table before him. “If only I could see his face...”

“That, I cannot arrange, my lord,” said Somerville ruefully.

“A shame. But...”

“Yes?” asked Somerville enthusiastically. He seemed quite eager to please the other wizard.

“Be sure to apply a deadly poison the wrappings of these gifts. It gives me little satisfaction or pleasure, but I find his line troublesome. Best to cleanse them all from the earth and be done with the matter in its entirety,” he instructed nonchalantly.

“As you say,” said Somerville with a slight bow.

He reached to take the head from the table, but he was halted by a gesture from the other wizard.

“Leave Michael. I wish to have a chat with him.”

Somerville nodded, took the sack up again, and started toward the stairs at the far side of the room.

“Herr Grindelwald, what time shall dinner be served tonight?” he inquired.

“Eight o’clock, if you please, Christoph,” he replied.

Corinna’s eyes bulged as she realized that the man at the table was one other than Josef Wilhelm von Grindelwald, the most notorious Dark Wizard of the age.

She let out a little shriek before she was swallowed by darkness.


Corinna felt as though she were lost in that darkness for the longest time before something began to draw her out of it again. Something soft and damp gently touched her forehead. This was followed nearly instantaneously by the heavy feeling of something wrapped around her, holding her still and preventing her from moving. Then she heard a quiet, garbled voice in her ear, hushing her. The moist object touched her cheeks, then her nose, and finally her chin before starting the pattern over again. She was certain that is was a damp cloth.

She felt very sick and turned her head to the side, burrowing toward the warm, comforting object from whence the voice came. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see anymore after what she had witnessed. She only wanted the darkness and the comforting presence to remain.

“Can you hear me, my dear?” asked a strained and anxious voice, leaving behind Gaelic for English.

She squeaked softly, unable to formulate a proper sound. The moist cloth disappeared and was replaced by trembling fingers.

“You’ve had a bad time of it, I’m sure, but it’s all over now,” said Professor Mallaghan in response.

Corinna tried to indicate that she understood, but couldn’t find a way in which to do so effectively.

Mallaghan rocked her gently in his arms and hummed a quiet tune that often faltered as he tried to soothe her. He was at a loss as to what to do for her, other than taking her to Madam Pomfrey and facing the consequences, which he imagined would not profit any of them in the long run.

Something about his actions made Corinna think about Rosie, instead of the severed head on Grindelwald’s table, which caused her to relax a bit. She realized that during the months in which she had known Joseph, she had never questioned where his gentle demeanor and compassionate manner had come from. Now she realized that it was probably from being the husband of a mediwitch.

“Can you open your eyes for me yet, my dear?” he asked cautiously, rubbing his thumb over her eyelids to coax them open. “For me, mavourneen?” he questioned.

“Can’t. Don't want to see anymore,” she whimpered.

“There, there ...” he said, relieved that she had spoken at all. “You can lie still and quiet for a bit if you want, lassie,” Joseph assured her.

She felt the damp cloth dab at her forehead again and did as he suggested to her, waiting for the overwhelming sense of horror to leave her. It was doing so slowly, bit by bit, though Corinna was nearly certain that it would never go away entirely.

“Do you want to go to the hospital wing?” he asked her after a moment.

“No...” she answered quietly.

“Sweet Merlin, I never should have done this to her,” said Joseph in a soft voice, brushing her hair away from her face.

“My choice,” she mumbled.

He wanted to say something about the courage of that choice, but at that moment Corinna managed to lift her eyelids and look up at him. Joseph smiled and held her closer, remembering how it had been with his son when he was only a bit older than she was. She blinked against the strong light coming from the window, but did not close her eyes again.

“It was my choice,” she stated again, but in a stronger voice. She was finally coming out of it.

Everything was blurry for a few minutes until her eyes adjusted to the light again. She felt dizzy and still a bit disoriented, but she thought that those effects might have been because of the draught as much as the visions it induced. She did not think she would be trying that again in the near future, if ever again.

Looking up at Joseph, who had a patient and comforting smile on his face, she could clearly tell by the look in his eyes that he had been terribly worried. He hugged her again and encouraged her to sit up. Corinna felt weak as she did so, noticing that her chair had been inexpertly transfigured into something like a couch.

“All right now, my dear?” he asked her.

“I don’t feel very well...” she admitted quietly, leaning back against the cushions of the couch and staring up at the high ceiling.

“That’s to be expected,” Joseph told her. “It will pass,” he said in a reassuring tone.

“Tell me about Rosie, professor,” she asked, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

She wanted to hear something nice. She wanted him to tell her how they met and fell in love and lived happily-ever ... at least for a time. Anything that would drive the horror that she had witnessed from her mind.

Mallaghan smiled and asked, “Did you see my Rosie in your vision, my dear?”

“Yes,” she replied, allowing her lips to twitch upward slightly, though she could not manage to smile.

“Aye, she was lovely,” said Joseph, taking a deep breath as though remembering and trying to organize his thoughts at once, “and very dear to me. I had known her since we were children together in Ireland. She was my best friend, and I missed her terribly when I came to school. We only shared two years in school together, you know, but we made the most of them. I don’t believe that Professor Binns ever quite recovered from something of things we...”

He paused and blushed ever-so-slightly and said, “But playing pranks on one’s professors is quite wrong. We should never have put Exploding Snap cards in his shoes ... nor in his desk ... nor in his hat.”

Corinna looked at him in surprise. She could never have imagined Mallaghan getting into any sort of trouble.

“She was a Gryffindor. She made me do it,” he said with a slightly childish smile.

Corinna giggled and realized that she wasn’t shaking any longer. She felt much better just listening to Joseph. She nodded for him to go on.

“I didn’t see her again for nearly four years after I left school, but we wrote letters to each other. I was so jealous whenever she would write about boys that were after her hand, but she never took any of them seriously. I turned down a teaching position in America so that I could stay here and visit her in Hogsmeade during her seventh year. Rosie and I used to run through the fields together...” he reminisced with a soft sigh.

“Not a single regret,” said Joseph, who had been asked to join the faculty at the wizarding school in Salem.

“Really?” asked Corinna.

“Truly, my dear. Nothing better ever happened to me in my life than marrying Rosie McCann,” he told her, dabbing his eyes with his sleeve. “We were happy together for the longest time.”

Corinna felt slight uneasy as she asked, “What happened to her, sir?”

“She went out into to Muggle London one day ... just before the start of the term in 1912 ... and she was rundown by a Muggle streetcar,” he explained. “I think she had gone out to find a new pair of slippers for me,” Joseph added.

“I’m sorry,” said Corinna.

“We were married for more than fifty years. I don’t suppose I had a right to ask for longer than that,” he said with a sad smile. “Are you feeling any better, lassie?” he asked Corinna.

“Much better,” she nodded.

“Can you tell me anything about what you saw ... other than my Rosie? Or is it still too soon?” he asked carefully.

Corinna took a deep breath and told him simply, “I saw Grindelwald.”

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