Reckoning Night

Chapter 5

Ron didn't have time to ponder the question why the wolf was here and not off somewhere safe, curled up in a corner and sleeping as he was supposed to. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. The wolf tensed, fixing the small group with its gaze, and leapt at the one person who happened to be standing in front -- the man who had just asked who they were.

With a gurgling scream, the man stumbled backwards, pushed over by the momentum of the heavy body colliding into him. Jack let out a few colourful swear words and dashed into their room. Paralyzed with shock, Ron noticed, out of the corner of his eye, as two black-cloaked figures appeared at the staircase where the wolf had come from, their wands trained at the creature. He felt Harry pull him away from the wolf and his victim, who were caught up in a deadly battle. Even if Ron didn't look at them, he could see blood everywhere. On the floor. On the walls.

"Oh my god," he heard Sam utter in dismay. Teal'c leaped towards the wolf with the clear intention of saving the man, and very obviously not aware of the futility of this plan. If he was bitten--

"Stay away!" came a voice from the doorway to the left. The other unknown man, who had appeared briefly before, came out into the corridor, clutching a weapon in his outstretched, shaking hands. At least Ron assumed it was a weapon; even if he couldn't make out any details in the dim light, he was sure he had never seen such a thing before. But then, what did he know about Muggle weapons?

Teal'c stopped dead in his tracks, pulling away just in time before the wolf snapped at him, its blood-stained teeth clacking audibly when they clamped on nothing but air.

The weapon gave off a beep and a shrill metallic whining sort of noise, then a bolt of blue light shot towards the two figures on the ground, sizzled across the bodies, and disappeared. Just a fraction of a second later, Harry shouted, "No, don't kill him!"

Too late.

The body of the wolf collapsed on top of the other one, lying still. At the same time, Jack emerged from his room, carrying what Ron now clearly recognized as a Muggle gun. One of the Death Eaters standing by the stairs uttered a spell, but Ron, whose attention had been focused in the other direction, couldn't turn around in time to see who it was aimed at, let alone utter a counter-spell. Something crashed into him, sending him stumbling towards the open door where Daniel stood, and belatedly he realized that it was Harry who had pushed him out of the way and in the process got hit with the curse himself. He heard Harry let out a small yelp just before he crumpled to the floor.

"Harry!" Ron yelled, panic welling up inside him. He fumbled for his wand, nearly dropping it. Almost automatically, he made to rush to his friend's side, but he was roughly pulled in the other direction by Daniel and someone else. He was only half aware of the fact that both of the Death Eaters had aimed their wands at him, again, or at any of the Muggles standing close to him.

'Not green,' he repeated over and over in his head. 'The curse was not green.'

Two deafening shots rang out as Jack fired his weapon twice in quick succession, then a startled cry, and both of their attackers collapsed to the floor, motionless.

Ron stared at them. Then at Harry. Then at the wolf and the bloody mess. Suddenly, he felt his whole body was trembling, releasing the pent-up adrenaline, and he had to hold on to the doorpost with one hand in order to prevent his legs from giving way. His other hand was still clutching his wand.

Sam was the first to get back to her senses. With a few strides, she was at Harry's side, knelt down beside him, and checked his pulse. She looked up in Ron's direction, immense relief written on her features. "He's alive."

Ron took a deep breath, trying to will his still racing heart to calm down. "What about him?" he asked with a vague gesture in the direction of the wolf. The black-clothed man was currently tugging at the blood-soaked fur, trying to haul the creature off the human body beneath. Ron wasn't so sure if he wanted to see the full extent of the damage that had been done. He felt his stomach do a weird flip-flop. Even though the man had nearly been ripped to shreds, it didn't look as dreadful as Ron had feared, but that was mostly due to the fact that everything was covered with so much blood that not much else was visible. It wasn't that bad, he told himself, trying to push the feeling of lightheadedness away. It wasn't that bad. No reason to get sick now, right?

"I think it's safe to say he's dead," Jack said in a strained voice. "No one can survive having his throat ripped out."

It took a while for him to realize that Jack was talking about the victim. "I meant the wolf," he said.

The unknown man, who was now partially covered in blood himself, looked up at him. His face was white as a sheet. Idly, Ron wondered if the victim had been his friend.

"He's alive," said the man. "Only the second shot kills."

He's alive ... Ron's brain started processing this information. If he was alive, he'd transform back into a human when the night was over. Would he remember what had happened? What he had done? Now that Ron's mind was no longer paralyzed with shock, his thoughts started racing. What if someone got wind of this? What happened to werewolves who harmed a human? What happened to werewolves who *killed* a human? 'He didn't mean to', Ron thought. 'It wasn't his fault.'

"We have to call someone," Sam said, feeling Harry's pulse again. "Police, ambulance, anyone!"

"No!" said Ron quickly. "No, I'll go get help. No one must know about this, okay? Please, you have to trust me."

"But someone must have heard the shots," Daniel said hesitantly. "At the very least, the inn's owner will show up here any second, he probably lives in the same building."

Ron put his wand away and stepped into the middle of the corridor where he had a bit of free space to Apparate. He knew it was dangerous for inexperienced wizards to try Apparating in his current state, but he didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to keep anyone from finding out what had happened here. He was unlikely to find a Floo connection anywhere around here.

"If he does, delay him until I return, all right? Don't let him alert anyone. The wolf is not really a wolf, he is a friend of ours. I'll explain everything to you later."

He forced his mind to concentrate, and Apparated to Hogsmeade.

Help. Who could he trust not to alarm the Werewolf Capture Team immediately? The first who came to mind was Professor Dumbledore. But now that he was standing in the middle of Hogsmeade's empty main street, counting his limbs and noting with relief that he hadn't Splinched himself, Ron remembered that Professor Dumbledore had talked about having to go to a meeting somewhere. If Ron walked all the way back to the castle only to find out that the headmaster wasn't there, he would waste valuable time he didn't have. Sirius ... no, Ron didn't know where he was at the moment. He looked down the street, seeing nothing but darkness. No one seemed to be awake anymore. His father ... maybe Ron could wake one of the villagers and ask to use their fireplace and call the Burrow. But then, they'd want to know what had happened, which was exactly what he wanted to prevent.

Then it hit him. There *was* someone here who he could ask, after all. Fred and George, who had moved their shop to Hogsmeade two months ago -- they could definitely be trusted. He ran down the street, looking for "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes" by the light of the moon, and started pounding on the door.

"Do you know what time it is?" said the doorknob accusingly.

"Fred, George, cut the crap, this is important!"

He heard shuffling behind the door and a second later he was looking into the sleepy face of Fred Weasley. His older brother looked fairly miffed that he was awakened at this late hour.

"Ron! Can't you come back some other time?"

Ron put his foot into the doorway, just in case he wasn't taken seriously. "I'm not here to buy Canary Creams, this is serious. There has been an attack in Hogs Grove, we've got one dead and Harry is unconscious. I need your help!"

There was a moment of silence, then a second hand pulled the door open wider, and George appeared behind Fred. When he saw Ron's worried face, he looked suddenly wide awake. "What did you say?"

"You heard what he said," Fred replied. He turned back to Ron. "Why don't you get one of the teachers for help, or the Magical Law Enforcement?"

"We can call the Mediwizards," George offered.

Ron shook his head. "No, no, you don't understand. Remus is involved in this, but it wasn't his fault!"

"You mean..." The twins looked at each other, then back at Ron, understanding dawning on their faces.

Ron nodded gloomily. "We need to be quick before anyone takes notice."

With one look, Fred and George silently reached an understanding, grabbed their coats that were hanging by the door, and stepped outside. Ron was one of the few people who knew they had a lot more between their ears than schoolboy jokes when it came to the crunch, even if they had never finished their NEWTs. Also, very few people knew they were helping out the Auror division with useful magical gadgets. Yet, they still managed to keep up their image of harmlessness perfectly.

Without wasting time asking questions, the twins Apparated in front of the *Spider's Web* together with Ron. As they were running up the stairs, Ron could hear someone shouting. He nearly tripped over the bodies of the Death Eaters that were still lying in the same place they had been when he left. Harry and the wolf were no longer where they had been before, though. On second glance, Ron spotted the wolf cowering in a corner, awake, and eyeing them all very nervously and very ... pained. This was no longer the ferocious beast it had been just minutes before. Said beast was now without a doubt under the influence of the Wolfsbane Potion. If that hadn't been the case, they would have all been mincemeat by now -- or someone would have killed the wolf, if that was at all possible.

A slightly stocky built man, who Ron hadn't seen before, was talking heatedly to Daniel Jackson. When Daniel spotted Ron and his brothers, he said, "Ah, here they are. I'm sure they can explain to you much better what went on in your inn."

The man turned his attention towards the wizards. Immediately, a disapproving frown appeared on his face as he eyed their outfits. "I think they should explain to the police," he said gruffly, clearly indicating the conversation was over for him as he stomped past Ron and his brothers towards the staircase.

"Excuse me, sir," George said in his most charming voice. "I take it you're the owner of this place?"

The man nodded, clearly irritated.

"In that case I'm happy to inform you that nothing out of the ordinary has happened tonight, and you can go back to sleep without having to worry about anything. *Obliviate!*"

The man had been staring at George open-mouthed. Now his eyes went glassy, he blinked, and mumbled, "Sorry for the interruption." He staggered down the stairs.

"Wow," said Ron. "Since when can you do a Memory Charm?"

"Since about half a year," Fred replied.

"It takes a lot of practice, though," George said.

"Actually, George is much better at it than I am," Fred said.

"I just hope the dose wasn't too strong," George said, looking down the stairs.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked the Muggles. At the moment he couldn't care less about the fate of the man.

"We put him on the bed," Sam explained. "He still hasn't woken up."

Fred and George were looking around, finally getting their first good look at the scene. George looked from the bloodied body to the wolf and said, "Is that his work?"

"He looks pretty tame to me," Fred said doubtfully.

"They are the ones responsible," said Ron, waving vaguely in the direction of the two Death Eaters. "They controlled him with the Imperius Curse. They made him a killing machine." His voice was carrying disgust.

"You can't control a werewolf with the Imperius Curse," Fred replied promptly.

"A werewolf?" Sam sounded baffled. "Werewolves don't exist outside of Hollywood B-movies. They are a myth."

"Sam," Daniel said. "Maybe we of all people shouldn't be assuming all 'myths' don't exist." He shot her a meaningful look. Ron didn't get what he was talking about , but Sam seemed to understand. She just said, "oh" and bit her lip.

"I know it shouldn't be possible, but I've seen it with my own eyes," Ron said in response to Fred.

"No one but those present will believe that, though," said Fred. "For all we know, these two" -- he pointed at the prone forms of the Death Eaters -- "could completely deny their involvement and claim Remus hasn't taken his potion."

"The jerks at the Ministry know that has happened before," George added. "Who do you reckon they are more likely to believe?"

"Uhm, I don't think these two will tell anyone anything anymore," Jack said. "They are pretty much dead."

Fred nudged one of the bodies with his foot, looking skeptical. "Sure?"

"Dead sure."

Fred looked at Jack strangely, as if seeing him properly for the first time. "*You* killed them?"

"Ron said you're Muggles," George added.

Jack looked indignant. "Hey, who're you calling a Muggle? I have no clue what that means, but I want you to take it back right this very instant!"

Ron had to laugh despite the dire situation. "A Muggle is what we call a non-magical person."

Teal'c, who Ron had figured was of the silent type, suddenly reminded them of their situation. "Would it not be prudent to make haste, in the case that more of these warriors are sent?"

George nodded. "He is right. We don't know if these guys are supposed to report back. There could be more where they came from. We need to get you to safety -- all of you."

Not mentioning the fact that Harry was a pretty easy target right now.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked.

"Hogwarts," George replied promptly.

"What, that ruin up there?" Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Hogwarts. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

George sighed, clearly getting impatient. "It only appears like a ruin to you. It's caused by the Muggle Repelling Charms. We can put a spell on you that will let you get around that."

"Wouldn't it be better to bring Harry to St Mungo's?" Ron asked. "He is still unconscious, and I have no idea what that spell was that he was hit with."

Fred looked at his younger brother as if he was wondering why Ron was so slow sometimes. "Honestly, Ron, do you really think You-Know-Who would refrain from wrecking a hospital if he knew Harry was in there?"

Daniel cleared his throat audibly. "Uh, would you mind telling us just what is so special about Harry? Is there something we're missing?" He cast an uneasy glance at the room behind him, where Harry was still lying on the bed, as if he could also turn into a monster the next minute.

Ron sighed. "We'll explain later, all right? First we need to get rid of the bodies and clean up everything. We have to make sure no traces are left."

Suddenly, the black-dressed man, who might or might not belong to the team, spoke up. "Getting rid of the bodies should be no problem. Step aside." He raised his strange weapon and pointed it at the Death Eaters, fired the blue bolt of light several times, and they were gone. After a moment of hesitation, he also let the body of the werewolf victim disappear.

"Wow, such a thing would be useful to have," Fred remarked.

"Is this Muggle technology?" George asked, his interest peaked.

"This is classified," the man said, suddenly getting defensive.

"Can it remove the blood, too?" Ron, asked, curious.

"No, unfortunately not."

"Drat, I'm no good with scouring charms," Fred muttered.

"Neither am I," said George.

"I'll go get a bottle of Mrs Skower's Magical Mess Remover," Fred decided. "George, you get them all to Hogwarts. We'll meet up there, okay?" They agreed on the plan, and Fred Disapparated with a 'pop'.

They had no choice but to walk to the castle, since George didn't know how to create a Portkey. It would only have attracted unwanted attention from the Ministry of Magic, anyway. It took a while until they had coaxed the wolf into coming with them. When Ron had managed to get into his head that they were just doing the whole effort because of *him*, the wolf finally followed them, albeit reluctantly, still looking very distraught.

-----

The hospital wing at Hogwarts looked like it had become a convention center. They had brought Harry here immediately, so Daniel, the rest of the SG-1 team, and Agent Devlin, who was tagging along, had ended up there, too. They made sure they stayed out of the way, but no one seemed to take notice of them. Despite the late hour, it seemed like word about Harry had got around somehow, and legions of concerned or curious students were milling around in the hall-like room. Madam Pomfrey, the stout matron, kept alternating between checking on Harry, who was still unconscious, and shooing the kids away. Ron, the twins, and Hermione, a friend of Harry's, were all crowding around Harry's bed and refused to move away. The school's headmaster, who Daniel had already met two days ago, and two teachers arrived as well, with the result that all students were sent sternly back to bed.

Daniel's attention was caught more by the architecture of the vast hospital hall than the events at hand. After all, it wasn't every day that he got to visit a genuine Scottish castle, especially now that he spent most of his time on other planets, and the time that he didn't spend off-world, in some dusty lab studying dusty artefacts from said planets. He just wished he could have come here under better circumstances. But then, if they had *not* become targets of a power-mad Goa'uld-wizard, they wouldn't be here in the first place.

Professor Dumbledore was just starting to order Ron and Hermione to bed, too, but apparently they had other ideas. "Professor, Harry has told us about the prophecy concerning him and Lord Voldemort," Hermione said.

Ron winced visibly at that. Daniel's attention wandered from the stone walls to the small group assembled around Harry's bed, curious. Had Hermione said something she shouldn't have? Dumbledore looked at her sharply, but his look was different from Ron's. "Did he?"

"If Harry doesn't wake up anymore--" Ron began, but was interrupted by Hermione's brisk voice.

"He will."

"I mean, if Harry doesn't wake up for a long time ... Will there be no one left who can defeat You-Know-Who? Will You-Know-Who win?"

Even though he barely knew him, Daniel started to feel growing concern for Harry. He stepped closer to the bed to get a better look at him. Harry's face was unnaturally pale, but other than that, he looked like he was sleeping peacefully. Or maybe 'in a coma' would be the more appropriate word.

The wizard with the greasy black hair had been keeping himself in the background, looking very much like he didn't want to be in the same room with the kids -- or with the Muggles? Daniel wondered -- but wanting to wait and see how Dumbledore assessed the whole situation. Daniel had almost forgotten his presence, until he spoke up. His voice was quiet, yet carried well through the whole hall and into every corner.

"This is very likely."

Ron's face went a shade paler at that, if this was even possible.

"I have told the headmaster time and again that Potter's hero complex would be his downfall one day. If he didn't always run off saving people who are not his business to save, he'd be in much less trouble. If it weren't for these Muggles here--"

"Hey, don't talk as if we're not in the room!" Jack suddenly stepped beside Daniel. The teacher looked at him as if he was dirt under his shoes. "If everything is suddenly our fault, I would at least like to know what the hell is going on here. What is this ... this prophecy you're talking about?"

It was the same question that was going through Daniel's mind, too. To his surprise, Dumbledore said, "Severus, maybe you are too quick with your judgement. I think we do indeed owe them an explanation. I don't think we have anything to lose anymore," he added with a glance at Harry's prone form. Madam Pomfrey was once again taking his vitals, reminding Daniel strongly of Dr Fraiser in their own infirmary, only she was waving her wand instead of reading from machines, and the smell of disinfectant was missing.

Dumbledore turned to the small group. "I also owe you an apology. I did not take the threat to your lives seriously even though I knew about it. I thought the attack would be directed at Hogwarts. I did not consider anything else."

Daniel didn't know what to say to that, and apparently no one else did, either. However, it didn't seem like Dumbledore expected an answer, because he continued. "Now for the prophecy. When Harry was a baby, a prediction was made, that only one person can defeat Lord Voldemort. One has to die at the hand of the other, so the prophecy says."

"Let me guess, this person is Harry," Daniel said, trying to piece the information together.

"He is. Lord Voldemort has marked him as the 'One', like the prophecy said."

From behind Daniel, Sam's voice said, hesitating, "No offense, Professor, but how do you know this prophecy is ... well, true? I mean, surely there are other ways to defeat Lord Voldemort, besides sending a kid into battle."

"If Professor Dumbledore says the prophecy is true, then it is true," Hermione said.

Daniel turned to look at his team, unsure of what to think of this. Teal'c's face was an unmoving mask, it was impossible to tell what he thought of the whole thing. Sam gave a disapproving frown. Jack looked skeptical. Devlin just stood there watching.

"Guys, this is obviously a very different culture. Maybe we should respect--"

"Daniel, this is Earth, not some--" Jack broke off abruptly. Daniel was sure he was going to say, "some other planet", but had stopped himself because he didn't know how much Daniel had told them already.

"We too know the concept of prophecies among my people," Teal'c said.

"It doesn't matter what you think of our concepts," the man who Dumbledore had called Severus said. "None of this is your concern. I suggest you return to your sugarcoated Muggle world before the Dark Lord decides you're worth the trouble of going through another assassination attempt." He looked at them disdainfully, then turned and swept out of the hall in a swirl of black robes. Everyone stared after him, even when the big double doors had already closed. Daniel blinked.

"Okay..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead.

"Uh, don't mind him," Ron said, after looking at the old headmaster, who looked like he was very used to the behaviour of his staff. The twins, who were sitting on the bed next to Harry's, snickered. "Snape will always stay the same," one of them remarked.

Hermione looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Maybe Harry wouldn't have been able to kill Lord Voldemort anyway, even if he was conscious. He said he had problems with advanced spells."

"He just needed to practise more," Ron said.

Dumbledore's face clouded over at that. "I'm afraid Miss Granger is right, as usual. There is much we haven't told you yet." He looked at the SG-1 team, thoughtful. "I suppose you could as well know about it." His expression became even more grave. "The powers of light and Dark magic are imbalanced, and we believe Lord Voldemort has acquired a powerful device which has greatly accelerated the process by opening a sort of gate to the negative dimension. And this is the point where we could use the assistance of our Muggle friends here."

Jack looked at Daniel. "Is he talking about your artefact?"

Daniel nodded. "How can we be of help?" he asked Dumbledore.

"We have to turn the device off, make it unusable, or otherwise interfere with it, either from afar, or we have to get it into our possession. We would try it on our own, but the magic we'd need for that is so old that none of us knows how to use it anymore."

"The ancient magic!" Ron exclaimed and then slapped a hand to his mouth as if something had slipped out that shouldn't have.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked.

Ron's face reddened until it was the same shade as his hair. "Uh, I just heard it somewhere."

Dumbledore smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled. "That's what it's called, the 'ancient magic'."

"Like the castle's protection?" Hermione asked. "I believe it was mentioned in 'Hogwarts, a History'."

"You have studied your books well," Dumbledore said.

"But we know no more ancient magic than you do," Daniel said, confused.

"That's why I'm hoping you can come up with an alternate way of bringing back the balance of light and Dark magic. A way to close the gate to the negative dimension."

"Harry doesn't know any ancient magic, either, does he?" Ron asked, his eyes getting wider as if he only just realized this fact. "And with the Dark magic getting stronger, he wouldn't have been able to defeat You-Know-Who, anyway, even if he were conscious..." He trailed off. No one answered him.

"Let me get this straight," came a voice from behind Daniel. He turned around in surprise and saw that it was Devlin. Daniel had almost forgotten that he was here. "I don't have the whole story, but I got that you're fighting against a powerful enemy who has more chances of winning than you do, right?"

Dumbledore gave him a long look over the rim of his half-moon glasses. It looked like he was trying to calculate what he was getting at, even before he said it. "That's right."

"Well, since you are having problems with your ... er, magic, have you ever thought of using, you know, regular firepower? I'm pretty sure that plenty of weapons exist in Britain, and if we came to an arrangement, my country could even supply you with more."

Hermione blinked. Ron stared at the NID agent with a slightly open mouth. Fred raised his eyebrows simultaneously with George. "You are not seriously suggesting that you want to defeat the most powerful Dark wizard of this time with ... with Muggle weapons, are you?" Fred said.

Jack quickly jumped in. "Actually, this isn't such a bad idea." He looked at Dumbledore. "You were looking for alternatives, right? Well, maybe Daniel can figure out how to close this negative gate or whatever it's called, but for that we first need to actually *have* the artefact. You know how to deal with wizards, but we know how to deal with Goa'uld. My 'alternative' strategies happen to include weapons we can handle, not wooden sticks."

Daniel wanted to say he wasn't so sure he'd be able to do anything with the artefact at all, but he didn't get a word in edgeways

"You-Know-Who would laugh you in the face," said Ron, utterly convinced. "You'd be dead before you could even get close enough to him to fire one of your weird ... weapons."

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to say something, but Jack was already ranting on. "Might I remind you, those 'weird' weapons effectively killed two guys today, who wanted to kill *us*. Just because you call yourselves 'wizards' doesn't mean you're invulnerable."

"Jack--" Daniel began, but Dumbledore spoke simultaneously.

"I appreciate your offer, but I have to agree with Mr Weasley that your weapons are no match for Lord Voldemort's army."

"Great," Jack muttered. "We don't have to go to P3-whatever to be the 'primitive' ones, we can get this treatment right here at home, too."

"That means we're back to the ancient magic that no one knows," Hermione huffed, as if that was the last thing she needed. She stalked towards the huge double doors with determination. Ron looked after her, baffled.

"Hey, where're you going?"

Hermione stopped, let out an audible sigh, and turned around with an obvious air of impatience around her, as if her actions were evident and Ron just didn't get it. "Since it doesn't look like Harry is going to wake up anytime soon, I'm going to do something useful, instead of sitting around and moping. I'm going to the library to see if I can find anything on ancient magic in connection with light and Dark magic."

Daniel wasn't sure, but he thought he saw how Ron briefly rolled his eyes. "Don't you think if there was anything like this in the Hogwarts library, Professor Dumbledore would know about it?"

Hermione cast an apologetic glance in the old wizard's direction. "No offense, but I believe he's had other priorities lately. Hogwarts has one of the most extensive libraries on magic in Europe. If anything helpful exists at all, it's bound to be there."

Daniel perked up. Books about real magic? He'd die to have just one look at those. "Mind if I tag along?" he asked.

"Me too, actually," Sam said quickly. "Six eyes see more than two."

Hermione shrugged. "That's fine with me, if Professor Dumbledore doesn't mind you walking around in the castle."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "You should maybe put that off until tomorrow, young lady. It is well past your bedtime. I think we should all retire now, it has been a long day, and Harry's condition is not going to change anytime soon. I will have the house elves prepare suitable quarters for you," he added with a look at the team.

Hermione was of a different opinion, though. "Professor, I think the future of the Wizarding World has priority. What if Lord Voldemort decides to attack us tomorrow morning? Besides, I'm not really tired at all." She looked at him with wide open eyes as if to prove her point.

Dumbledore had to smile at that. He pondered briefly and then said, "Very well. Do what you think is right. I'll see you in the morning."

He walked off with Jack, Teal'c and Devlin, while Sam and Daniel followed Hermione through the long, winding corridors of the huge castle. The walk alone made the trip already worthwhile. Daniel was fascinated by the moving portraits, but unfortunately he couldn't stop to inspect them more closely. He would have lost his way in an instant and was glad to have Hermione as a guide. She knew which staircase would move where, and which steps not to tread on.

"Professor Dumbledore must be really worried if he let me go off in the middle of the night just like that," she confided. "I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing."

On the way, Hermione explained what she already knew about ancient magic. "It's very, very powerful," she said. "It used to be the only way to do magic at all, until the Hogwarts Founders invented the use of wands over a thousand years ago and taught everyone about it. It made the casting of spells a lot easier, but wand magic is not nearly as powerful--"

She was rudely interrupted by a bright orange something that floated near the ceiling and screeched at the top of its lungs, "Students out of bed! Students out of bed!" Then the creature seemed to notice Sam and Daniel properly for the first time and its round eyes grew wide. "Who's that?"

Only now did Daniel notice that the strangely dressed guy was translucent and resembled very much what would probably pass as a ghost. Although the encounter *was* unsettling, Daniel decided there was no need to worry since Hermione seemed to be very familiar with the apparition.

"Sod off, Peeves, we don't have time for that now." Her voice was quiet but firm as she pointed her wand at the ghost. When he didn't comply, she spoke a few foreign words and a blue bolt shot out of her wand. The ghost froze in mid-air and looked like a translucent, floating statue. "Ron showed me that trick," Hermione said, grinning.

"Do you have any more of these ... uh, ghosts?" Sam asked, hesitantly.

"Oh, we have a bunch of ghosts, but Peeves is not a real ghost, he's just annoying," Hermione said casually. "He's pretty much the only thing I won't miss when I graduate from here." Then she picked up where she had left off when Peeves had interrupted them. "Anyway, the problem with the ancient magic is that it fell into oblivion because no one really needed it anymore. Even Professor Dumbledore, who is the greatest sorcerer of the present age, knows only a fraction of it, and as he said, this is not enough." She paused to think. "I believe Harry's mother had also been doing a bit of research in this field before she died." She stopped in front of yet another huge pair of doors. "We're here."

-----

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

On his hands, on his arms, on his legs, on his body, on his face, on his soul.

Sure, it was all washed away now; someone must have cleaned him up and given him a fresh robe, but he could barely remember it. Everything was in a haze.

Even though it was no longer visible, he could still feel the stains. He could still smell them, could still feel his teeth sinking into the man's flesh, still had the copper taste of blood in his mouth...

He gagged. In an instant, a hand was on his shoulder, gentle, not firm, feeling as if the hand's owner was very hesitant. Or very reserved. Or repulsed.

"Take deep breaths. Easy."

Remus kept staring at the wall next to his bed, trying to ignore Sirius. Maybe, if he kept pretending he was alone, Sirius would suddenly vanish. Or he would get bored and leave.

Sirius. Leave. Yeah, right.

Every fibre of his body was hurting, and Remus knew from experience that for the next few days every movement would be painful. He deserved no less. He wouldn't take the painkilling potion like he usually did. He also wouldn't sleep off the exhaustion that followed every transformation. If he closed his eyes, he'd see the blood again, he'd feel the tearing flesh and smell the fear.

So he kept staring at the wall, which, thankfully, was not staring back. His hand was clutching the pillow like a life belt. He stared at the hand. It was only too easy to imagine it turning into a paw, being covered with fur, growing sharp claws ... and again all the blood. There was suddenly blood on his hand. Where was it coming from? It was spreading, crawling up his wrist, his forearm, his upper arm, his shoulder, unstoppable, like a disease...

"Oh god..."

He kicked the tangled sheets away and stumbled out of his bed.

"Moony, what--"

Paying no attention to Sirius, who stared at him as if he had lost his mind, Remus made his way to the bathroom as quickly as he could. Not bothering to turn on the light, he fumbled for the tap and let cold water run over his hands and his arms. Off, he had to get it off!

"Remus, stop it!"

The light went on and Sirius appeared beside him, forcefully grabbing one of his hands. Remus jumped when he saw his own reflection in the mirror. Did he always look like that after a transformation?

Sirius turned off the water. Remus wasn't sure but he thought he heard a hint of annoyance in his voice. "What are you doing?"

"I ... I don't know ... there was blood, and..." Remus stared at his hands. There was no blood, just icy water everywhere, on his hands, on his clothes. He didn't dare to look at Sirius, convinced he'd see the disgust in his eyes, revulsion at what Remus had become overnight. "...Sirius, I think I'm going mad."

"Remus, look at me." Sirius gripped his shoulders and forcibly turned him around. "Look at me!"

Reluctantly, Remus did as he was told. There was no disgust in Sirius' eyes, just deep-etched concern.

"You're *not* going mad. It's a natural reaction, all right? And now you dry yourself off, drink some tea, and calm down." He pushed a towel into Remus' hands and walked off into the kitchen, presumably to prepare the aforementioned tea. "You can have a dash of whiskey in your tea if it makes you feel better," he heard Sirius call from the kitchen. Remus wanted to reply he had no whiskey in his house, but didn't make the effort. Sirius would find out soon enough.

There were times when Sirius' behaviour simply mystified Remus. This was one of those times. He could just not wrap his mind around the fact that his friend was still here at all. And now he was in the kitchen making tea. He went after him, the towel still in his hands. Every step pulled at his sore muscles, but he tried no to let it show.

"Sirius, I killed him. I didn't even know him, and he's dead because of me!"

Sirius looked up from the kettle he was observing, which was busy preparing the tea. Remus didn't feel like drinking tea. In fact, he didn't think he could hold anything in his stomach at all right now.

Sirius looked at him for a long time. "I know," he said quietly.

"'I know'? Is that all you can say?" Remus felt all his frustration, anger, fear and sadness building up inside him, pushing to get out. "I'm a freaking murderer, for Merlin's sake, and you just say, 'I know'?" His chest was heaving now, his vision started swimming. His hand fumbled for something to hold on to to keep his balance, and found the back of a chair. Sirius was suddenly beside him, pulled the chair around and Remus gratefully slumped into it, his legs no longer holding him up.

"Wow, you gave me a scare there, Moony. You're pale as death."

The room had stopped swaying. "I'm better already," Remus assured him.

Sirius went over to where the kettle was and returned with a steaming mug which he set on the table. Remus turned his chair around to face it, but he didn't even raise a hand to touch it. His stomach felt like a knot. His joints ached. His eyes were sore from fatigue.

"You weren't there. You haven't seen all the blood. It was atrocious. And it was me who did it."

There was suddenly a look of sadness on Sirius' face. "No, I wasn't there. I should have been," he said quietly, almost in a whisper. He took the second chair and sat down with a sigh. He fixed his eyes on Remus. "You took your Wolfsbane Potion, right?"

Remus nodded.

"And there were two Death Eaters who cast an Imperius Curse on you while you were transformed, right?"

"Yes, but--"

"And all damage you did was under the control of the Death Eaters, right?"

"Yes."

"And you did not harm anyone once those two were dead, right?"

"No."

"Then you are not responsible for your actions and you are by definition not a murderer."

This time it was Remus who let out a sigh. "That's not the point."

"Then what *is* the point?" There was an edge of exasperation in Sirius' voice now.

"The point is, if it wasn't for me, for the wolf, the man might still be alive now. Being responsible has nothing to do with control. If the wolf in me bites someone because I didn't take the Wolfsbane Potion, I will still be responsible, even though I was not in control."

Sirius leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples as if to ease off a headache, as he had done so often recently. "But don't you get it, you were nothing but a tool to them!" Abruptly, he got up and started to pace up and down in front of the table. "If a knife is used to commit a murder, is the knife responsible?"

"No, but a knife is not inherently evil."

Sirius threw his hands in the air in a dramatic gesture. "I give up."

"The guys from the Magical Law Enforcement won't care, anyway," Remus added, almost as an afterthought. "They never do."

Sirius stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him. "What?"

"Well, the Ministry has strict rules about how to deal with werewolves who have bitten or killed someone. I don't think they will believe anyone's claims about Imperius, and they should not, I mean, really, any old werewolf could come and claim he was under Imperius. They will hold me responsible, and they are right. MacNair will have a field day."

Sirius was still staring at him. Then he said slowly, "Remus, no one will come. No one knows what happened."

Remus gawked at his friend for a few beats, trying to absorb the information. Last night, he had been in too much of a shock to pay any attention to the goings-on, and he had just assumed... "But someone must have noticed. Sooner or later the Ministry will get wind of it."

Sirius sat down heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose with this fingers. "No one will talk. No one will get wind of this. No one will ever know it happened. You're safe, Moony."

"But..." Remus didn't know whether he should be happy about this or not. He stared at the mug, watching the steam curling upwards from the surface, dancing in the minute currents of air, and vanishing shortly after. "But this isn't right. Something has to be done! What if it happens again?"

"It won't happen again," Sirius said promptly.

Remus looked at him doubtfully. "How can you know that? How can you be sure? Can you promise me that?" Remus asked, knowing full well Sirius couldn't.

"No, I can't," Sirius said after some hesitation. "You know I can't."

"It can happen again, and I don't want to take the chance. I'm going to the Ministry myself."

"No, you are not. Dumbledore has instructed me to make sure you are not going to do anything stupid. This definitely qualifies as stupid."

Remus got up, but stopped when he saw Sirius' look. It was tinged with a trace of ... sadness. Remus could hear the accusation in his voice. "How can you do this, Moony? Ron and the twins have gone to great lengths to keep this under wraps, and this is how you thank them?"

Remus didn't know what to reply to this. He had to admit Sirius had a point, even if he didn't like it.

"I..." He swallowed. "I'll think about it." He left the kitchen, the untouched mug of tea standing forgotten on the table.

-----

Sam yawned for the third time within the last ten minutes. She would either need a coffee pretty damn quick or she was going to drop down and fall asleep right here. She wondered if the wizards possessed such an 'ordinary' thing as coffee. The pale light of early dawn was starting to seep through the high windows of the library, adding to the glow of the magical torches. Daniel was off in a corner of what Hermione called the "Restricted Section", poring over some old, dusty spellbooks. What he hoped to find there, Sam had no idea.

She walked over to where Hermione was sitting at a table to show her her latest find. She found Hermione with her head resting on her arms, which in turn were laid over a huge tome, and her eyes closed. Sam had to smile at this picture. She had just decided to let her sleep and go back to do her research on her own, when Hermione stirred. She blinked a few times and looked at Sam in confusion, until she remembered where she was. She ran a hand through her unruly hair and sat up straighter. "I ... uh, I wasn't sleeping."

Sam smiled to herself and handed her the open book. "You should have a look at this."

Hermione read the paragraph Sam was indicating. "Wow," she said, looking up to Sam with wide eyes, appearing suddenly much more awake. "That one is much older than the others." She read it again. "Balfour Bane lived in the sixteenth century. That means it goes back much further than we thought."

"Yeah, and it sounds just like the other recounts we've found. And this Balfour Bane even says clearly that he fully expected the spell to work, even though it was a difficult one, as I understand it."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, the Liquefying Charm is a very complex one, and it might have even been just experimental at that time. But this fits with the pattern we've found so far." She counted off on her fingers. "The spell was very advanced, the wizard in question was very proficient in his field and had successfully mastered the spell many times before, the wizard expected the spell to work and did not understand why it failed, and no explanation is given later on, either."

"You forgot the increasing frequency. If we can go by what we've found so far, it has been happening more often the closer we come to our time."

"Maybe we should start looking for hints that the Dark magic got stronger over time. The way it looks now, the whole balance problem started a long time ago."

"And if it got so much worse since Voldemort has the 'gate', maybe the 'gate' only amplified an already existing problem," Sam finished the thought.

"It's an idea," Hermione agreed. She went back to studying her book, while Sam walked over to the little spot of light that announced Daniel's location. She found him sitting cross-legged on the floor right next to a pile of books, most of them leather-bound and looking timeworn. He was currently immersed in yet another book and at the same time taking notes. He was so wrapped up in his work that he startled when Sam spoke to him. "Hey Daniel. Find anything yet?"

"Oh, hi Sam. I ... actually, I had this really crazy idea, I'm not sure if it's not a little too far-fetched..." He trailed off, suddenly unsure.

Sam sat down next to him. "Daniel, some of your far-fetched, crazy ideas have turned out right in the past, remember? Just tell me."

"Fine. Okay, see these incantations for the spells? They are all some form of garbled Latin. Now this gave me the idea. It might be coincidence, but whose language is, as we found out recently, also a modified form of Latin?" He looked at her expectantly, like a teacher waiting for an answer form his brightest student.

Very recently? Sam had to think for a moment to realize what he was referring to. "The Ancients?"

"Exactly! They had a different writing, of course, but thanks to Jack, we know that it was pronounced similar to Latin."

"Uh, Daniel, I hate playing devil's advocate here, but this could really be a coincidence."

"Ah!" Daniel raised his index finger to cut her off, a habit he had undoubtedly picked up from the colonel. "This isn't everything." He pulled a heavy book from the stack beside him and handed it to her. "Look at this."

The book was bulky and dusty. Engraved on the cover were a few fluid symbols, words of a writing she couldn't decipher, but which nonetheless looked very familiar. She opened the book and found more of the same writing inside. She had seen this language before.

It was the language of the Ancients.

-----