Harry Potter and the Elvish Magic

Harry Potter and the Elvish Magic

Chapter Eight: The Meeting, and Other Discoveries

Harry and Hermione hurried through the corridors, finally reaching the gargoyle which guarded his office. Harry and Hermione stared at it, until suddenly the faint purple Cyrillic letters floated into Harry’s field of vision again.

The password to the office is “Canary Cream”. If you would just say it, I could wake up and get out of your way so that you could get in, but I can’t do that until you say the right words.

The password to the office is “Canary Cream”. If you would just say it, I could wake up and get out of your way so that you could get in, but I can’t do that until you say the right words.

“Canary Cream,” said Harry. The gargoyle sprang to life and moved out of the way for them to go, thinking Well done, I knew you could do it. Harry and Hermione ignored it as they hurried up the stairs, ignoring the buzzing of the bees in one of the pictures, and the admonishments of one of the women in another picture to not run around so soon after dinner. Finally, they reached the wooden door at the top, and Harry knocked on it. It was soon opened by Dumbledore.

“Hello,” he said. “Come in, please.” They went in and sat down.

“Professor,” Harry began, “we were in the library, and Malfoy came up to us and was making snide remarks, when suddenly these purple Cyrillic letters floated in front of me and I somehow knew that they were his thoughts.”

“What did they say?” Dumbledore asked gravely. Harry thought for a second.

“I can’t remember them exactly,” he said, “but they were something like-”

“I am a lonely person, dissatisfied with the other members of my House. So many of them blindly obey their parents, shaping their lives around their parent’s wishes. I wish that my father had never forced me to get the Dark Mark on my arm. There is a Death Eater meeting tonight, which I must go to, and I am irritable from having to suppress my fear so that I can continue to be a spy for Dumbledore in the ranks of the Death Eaters. I want to be nice to you, but every time I get close to you, it becomes hard for me to do so. A sort of mist descends between me and my desire to be kind to you, and by force of habit I am mean to you. I would ask your help, but I must not do so, because that would let you in on my secret. I wish you’d help me, but I can’t ask you, and I have to live with that. I wish I was more familiar with you, because I know that you’re nice people. I wish that you would be the people who would know me, people whom I could confide in, about how my Animagus form is a white ferret, about how I really regret having been so mean to you, about how you are so much better than I am, and I know that it’s by my own choice. Please help me,” Hermione said suddenly. Harry was impressed at her abilities of total recall, and realized that she must have sensed Malfoy’s thoughts too.

“Very well done, Hermione,” Dumbledore said. “As you are doubtless aware, Draco Malfoy is indeed one of my spies in the ranks of the Death Eaters. There is a meeting tonight, which he is at now, and will probably be back from shortly. Perhaps you should be here when he gets back, so then you can talk to him. If you are able to read his mind like that, you will probably be able to relate better with him than even I will be able to.”

“Professor,” Harry said, “didn’t you tell us not to use our abilities, because they would be damaged if we used them too much?”

“I did, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Now, however, your empathic abilities have advanced to the point where you can use them at will. I wouldn’t advise doing that, however, because for the next few days, your brain will learn to sense other people’s thoughts in Roman, rather the Cyrillic, characters, and it will take a while for your brain to not sense the thoughts of others unless you ask it to. Because of that, for the next few days, you, Hermione and Ron will sense the thoughts of most of those around you, and I should warn you that it will be a bit overwhelming.”

“Professor,” Hermione said, “if Ron can sense thoughts like we can, shouldn’t he be here too?”

“For Draco’s safety,” Dumbledore said, “it is better that fewer people know his secret. You know it, and he knows it, but it will increase the odds of his cover being blown if Ron knows about him too. He may find out about it anyway. When you see him, please tell him that I warned you about your excessive empathing for the next few days, and that I told you only because I met you in the hallways.” Harry and Hermione nodded, seeing the sense in this, but Harry felt sorry for Ron, having to be kept in the dark for so long.

His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Dumbledore became grim again, and opened the door to an exhausted-looking Draco Malfoy, dressed in weather-stained black robes, carrying his Nimbus 2001 in one hand, and as if he’d been through the worst of all possible ringers. He started as he saw Harry and Hermione there, and looked at Dumbledore.

“I need to speak with you, Professor,” he said, attempting his usual sneer. What in the world are they doing here? floated before Harry and Hermione in the familiar Cyrillic letters. Harry was struck by the discrepancy between his words and his thoughts. Although Draco Malfoy was speaking like he always had, he was thinking in an entirely different tone. It was obvious that he was trying to conceal his true purpose from Harry and Hermione by pretending that he was still like his old self. Harry was impressed by his acting abilities.

Oh, dearie me, thought Dumbledore amusedly. I think we’ve given poor Draco quite a shock.

“Harry and Hermione will be in here for this discussion,” he said to Draco. “They are aware of your status.” Draco (as Harry and Hermione were both now thinking of him as) looked astonished.

“How-” he stuttered, all the sneer gone, “how did they ever find out?”

“It’s a long story,” said Dumbledore. “Now, please sit down.” Looking at them warily, Draco seated himself, all traces of the former Malfoy grandeur gone. He now looked like a reasonably decent person, instead of the insufferable snob he’d once been. Dumbledore waved his wand, and a tea tray, much like the one he’d conjured at Hagrid’s last year after they’d met Rita Skeeter in the Three Broomsticks, appeared in midair and landed on the desk between them. Draco reached forward and took a cup of tea, and began sipping it despondently.

“The Dark Lord is determined to achieve more publicity,” he said, still speaking to Dumbledore rather than to Harry and Hermione. “At the meeting tonight, he outlined the plans for several terrorist attacks which he will attempt upon Muggle targets.” Harry looked at Draco carefully, and as he began relating what Voldemort had done, it seemed as if although he still saw Draco sitting there, talking, he also saw the meeting as it had progressed.

Voldemort stood upon the rocks, his white skin looking as hideous as ever, his red eyes showing an incredible evil, as he surveyed the Death Eaters who had popped into existence around him. They rapidly formed a perfect circle, and Harry somehow sensed which one of the Death Eaters was Draco. Voldemort began pacing around the circle, looking carefully at every Death Eater as if assessing their loyalty at a glance. Each Death Eater bowed low as they were passed by, grateful to be spared some unspeakable punishment. Satisfied, Voldemort returned to the center of the distressingly large circle, which had fewer gaps in it than Harry remembered.

“My servants and friends,” he said, his cold voice sending bolts of pain through Harry’s scar, which he ignored for the moment. “So far, we have kept ourselves from being known by the wizarding public, until recently, when the fool Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley, recognized our return.” Voldemort paused slightly.

“Although I say that he is a fool, he is not to be underestimated, for even I respect how deep his loyalty is for Dumbledore, who is our greatest foe, along with Harry Potter, and his pitiful friends, Ronald Weasley, and the Mudblood Hermione Granger. Also, the other Weasleys could be very powerful witches and wizards, if it were not for their foolishness regarding Muggles. Do not underestimate them.” Harry felt a surge of anger, and his scar throbbed more strongly, and as he relaxed, realizing that being angry didn’t help matters much, the pain subsided.

“Our most essential objective is to establish status in the eyes of the wizarding public,” Voldemort continued. “We shall do this by attacking several targets, including the Ministry of Magic main offices, Azkaban, and some Muggle targets as well. That way, if the Ministry should in desperation decide to enlist Muggle help, we shall already have instilled the necessary fear to prevent any Muggles from coming to their aid.”

“Avery!” he commanded shrilly. “Come before me!” Trembling madly, a figure slowly walked in front of Voldemort, stopped in front of him, bowed to the ground, and kissed the hem of his robes.

“What is thy wish, my Lord?” he asked in an attempt at a worshipful tone.

“I would hope that your manner is a result of the fear you felt at meeting so many vampires, and not because you failed, Avery,” Voldemort snapped.

“M-m-m-m-my Lord,” Avery finally managed, after much struggle. Harry felt a sudden sense of foreboding. It seemed that this Death Eater had failed an assignment, and it was doubtless that Voldemort would be extremely displeased.

“My Lord,” Avery said, “Severus Snape managed to get to the vampires first. He convinced them to ally with Dumbledore, instead of with us. I offered them everything I could think of, but they merely laughed light-heartedly, in the sunshine, no less, and told me to... what were the words... ‘buzz off’. It was most out of character for them.”

“WHAT?” shrieked Voldemort, in a rage. “What did you say?”

“My Lord,” Avery said, “they said that they had renounced the Dark Side, and that all vampires were glad to be mortals now, and that they were renouncing all deals that they have ever had with the Dark Side. Several of them were out in the sun, and many of the vampire women were talking excitedly about how they were going to have children.”

“Vampires can’t have children!” Voldemort snapped. “It’s impossible.”

“According to them, it was finally decided that they were worthy to be released from the curse placed on them 5,000 years ago. Now, they don’t need to drink blood any more, they can have children, and they can get on with their lives, because they’re simply normal people now, although with some unusual powers. According to them, the Vampire Ruby-”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” Voldemort thundered.

“They said, my Lord,” managed Avery, struggling to speak through his nervousness, “that the Vampire Ruby released them from the curse they were under.”

“Avery!” snapped Voldemort, “the information you have brought me is valuable for me to overlook your failure, just this once, but you have a new assignment now. Avery, find the Vampire Ruby and bring it to me. Go now!”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Avery, relieved that he was unpunished. He bowed low, and Disapparated. Voldemort looked around at the remaining Death Eaters, his red eyes glistening coldly.

“We have a new enemy,” he said. “If the Vampire Ruby is awake, we must find it immediately, lest Harry Potter come across it, for it will try to find him, because it is loyal to him and his friends, through his father’s family.”

“Now,” said Voldemort, and his mood changed completely, “we have a visitor. An unwilling visitor, to be sure, but a visitor all the same. Bring him forward, Nott!” A stooped figure dragged forward another figure, who was bound tightly, his arms roped to his sides, and struggling.

“Karkaroff,” Voldemort hissed slowly. “You have returned.” The bound figure struggled even more. Voldemort raised his spider-like hand, and Karkaroff rose slowly into the air, struggling even more. He began to spin, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, until he vomited, and the meager contents of his stomach fell to the ground and spattered at Voldemort’s feet.

“Karkaroff, Karkaroff, Karkaroff,” Voldemort said condescendingly. “When will you ever learn to keep a presentable appearance?” Harry felt sick. Voldemort was doing all of this in cold blood, and he was enjoying it. Harry thought that he, too, might soon display the contents of his stomach, although this time on Dumbledore’s office floor. He managed to hold his stomach, though, through what happened next.

“Well,” said Voldemort, “I might as well give you a second chance.” The look on Karkaroff’s face nearly broke Harry’s heart. He knew that Karkaroff was going to die, and that the hope that shown on his face was futile.

“Karkaroff,” Voldemort said, “come down here and clean this up.”

“My Lord,” managed Karkaroff, “I am unable to descend.” Voldemort had allowed him to slow down somewhat so he could speak.

“You aren’t?” Voldemort said. “Well, well, well. What shall I do? I suppose I shall have to stop spinning you, as your power is so obviously futile against my own.” He brought his hand down, and Karkaroff fell suddenly, landing on his side on the ground about ten feet from Voldemort, his bonds disappearing. He crawled forward rapidly, splashing through the vomit, and kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robes.

“Thank you, my Lord,” he said breathlessly.

“Karkaroff,” said Voldemort, “you still need to clean the mess you have made. Lick it up. Now.” Karkaroff looked at Voldemort in horror, and then went back to the puddle of light-brown vomit, and slowly lowered his head.

“Enough!” said Dumbledore firmly, and the vision vanished. “What else happened?” Visibly disturbed, Malfoy continued.

“He killed Karkaroff,” he said quietly. “After torturing him. Then he dismissed us, with instructions to look out for the Vampire Ruby.”

“I see,” said Dumbledore. “All three of you may leave now. Do not speak of this meeting anywhere else but here, in my presence, to insure that no one untoward is listening.” They got up and left. Harry and Hermione both made rapid visits to the bathroom, where they both couldn’t help but empty their stomachs. Then they went up to the Gryffindor common room, bid each other good night, and went to bed.

Neither of them noticed Ginny staring into the fire, her gaze like that of one who has just seen a great horror. After they went up to their dormitories, she set off through the corridors, her wet hair hanging down her back. She took the same route they had taken, only in reverse. She looked both ways when she reached the gargoyle.

“Canary Cream,” she said, and the gargoyle leaped aside. She went up the stairs, and into Dumbledore’s office.

When Harry crawled into his bed, he lay down, trying to sleep, and closing his eyes. He still saw the letters as they floated in front of him, although they were Elvish runes this time.

Harry, Ron thought at him.

Ron? Harry thought back. What are you doing?

If we can sense thoughts, it makes sense that we can also do telepathy, Ron thought back at him.

That’s true, Harry thought back, realizing that this did indeed make sense. But what if others could sense what we’re sending to each other?

That would not be good, Ron thought back at him. Also, while you were in Dumbledore’s office, I was in the library, and I read the Elves can do telepathy which other people can’t sense as long as the sender concentrates on having the thoughts go only to the intended recipient, and to no one else. It’s just another thing you have to learn to do, much like learning how to walk or talk. When you’ve practiced enough, you don’t even think about doing it anymore. I’m not to that point yet, and neither are you or Hermione, so I have to concentrate while sending this to you. Harry was floored (figuratively). How had Ron known that they were in Dumbledore’s office.

How did you know we were in Dumbledore’s office? he asked, concentrating on having the thoughts go only to Ron.

While I was in the library, reading this book I found, I sensed some great pain and fear coming out of his office. I concentrated, and suddenly I could sense what was going on in there, and what you were doing. Ron’s thoughts were coming much clearer now, as if Harry and Ron had both gotten better at telepathy during their conversation. Harry was stunned, though. Ron had found out about Malfoy? If he had been able to sense what they were saying and doing in Dumbledore’s office, maybe Voldemort could have done that too.

Ron, thought Harry, we need to go to Dumbledore, right now.

You’re right, said Ron. Are you still dressed?

Yes, thought Harry. Come on. They snuck out of the dormitory, careful not to wake any of the other boys, and set off for Dumbledore’s office, unaware that Ginny had just settled into her dormitory.

How will we avoid Filch? Ron asked Harry.

Listen for him, Harry replied. They both attuned their extremely sensitive ears, while they were still in the common room. They listened carefully, and finally Harry decided that Filch was in the dungeons, considering that he heard him say, “Come on, my sweet, we’ll check on what Professor Snape’s up to,” to his cat, Mrs. Norris. The direction that his voice was coming from seemed to be about right, as well, so Harry Summoned his Invisibility Cloak, and they set off through the corridors to Dumbledore’s office, barely managing to fit under the cloak, considering their increased height. They quietly hurried through the corridors, and reached Dumbledore’s office rapidly.

“Canary Cream,” Harry whispered to the gargoyle, after looking and listening for people around them. It sprang aside, and they hurried up the stairs, the portraits not even noticing them. Ron knocked on the door, and Dumbledore called, “Come in.” They entered the room slowly, pulling off the cloak as they did so.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, looking amusedly at a parchment which Harry recognized as the Marauder’s Map. He chuckled, and handed it back to Harry.

“Here you are, Harry,” he said amusedly. “Thank you for letting me borrow it; I don’t need it anymore.” Harry pocketed it.

“Now, what brings you here yet again?” Dumbledore asked, gesturing them into chairs.

“Professor,” Ron said, “while I was in the library, I somehow sensed what you were doing up in here with Harry, Hermione and Draco Malfoy.” Dumbledore looked surprised.

“You did?” he asked. “How did you do that?”

“I sensed your thoughts,” Ron said. “When I listened really, really hard, I could just about hear you, but it was difficult, so I relied on telepathy.”

“That’s very unusual,” Dumbledore said. “Very, very unusual.” Harry nodded in agreement.

“When I got back into the dormitory, Ron informed me of what happened by telepathy,” he said. “I didn’t even know we could do that.”

“You’ll both make that discovery a lot in the future,” Dumbledore said simply.

“Now,” he said, “I would suggest that you both get off to bed. You will both have a long day tomorrow, and I think it would be wise for you to get a lot of sleep. Try to inform Hermione of your new abilities sometime tomorrow. She should know. I will take appropriate measures to prevent any detection of what goes on in here, because if Voldemort finds out what I do in my office, it could result in his ultimate triumph. Please inform me immediately of any more security breaches you are aware of. Good night!” They bade Dumbledore good night, and set off to bed.