Elusia Enigma

The transfiguration classroom was freezing cold, despite the numerous warming charms placed on the room. Possibly the only people in the room who were not cold were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, thanks to Hermione’s handy portable fires.

"Now, may I remind you that this will be on your N.E.W.T.s next year. Under normal circumstances, it would be covered in Charms class, seeing as it is a charm. But, seeing that many of you are in this class because of a hope to be an Auror, and Charms is not required but this charm is extremely important in Dark Magic... it is the Elusia Charm.

“To read about it, kindly take out An Advanced Guide to Dark Magic and turn to page one hundred eighty-eight. We will begin to study the spell after you have read the section on it. Unfortunately, the book does not cover it very well and what you learn of it will be from what I say, and those of you who have purchased a Quick Notes Quill will find it very useful."

The whole class moved to open their books except Draco Malfoy, who stayed unnaturally still in his seat.

"Mr. Malfoy, dare I ask why you are not doing the assignment?" Professor McGonagall's voice was stern and an expression to match was on her face.

"I don't need to," he said, almost lazily.

"I beg your pardon? You don't need to? Well, Mr. Malfoy, I would have hoped that after six years you would have realized that in my class, when you are assigned work, you are to complete it."

"But I already know it. I've madeone before," he said, and pulled a necklace out from under his shirt. Professor McGonagall looked stunned, which was a very rare thing indeed. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. She walked with long strides over to his desk and examined the vial around his neck.

"May I?" she asked.

He handed it to her and she studied it for a few minutes. Her eyes were wide, and her face pale with admiration, amazement, and some other emotion Harry couldn’t quite interpret.

"This is remarkable. You say you made it?" she asked. Her eyes were still wide, although the color had returned to her face.

"Well, except for the part when I had a dagger stuck in my heart..."

"Yes, of course... you don't mind if I show the class, do you?"

"No, just don't let them touch it. I wouldn't put it past them to open it."

"No, no; of course not. I just want them to see how it should look, and you are certainly excused from the assignment." Professor McGonagall spent the next few minutes showing it to the first row. Seeing as Harry, Hermione and Ron were in the last row, they realized it would take the longest time for her to reach them.

"Here," Hermione said, and unfastened a chain around her neck, "you can look at mine." She handed it to Harry.

They both stared at her in awe, looking remarkably like fish out of water.

"What?"

"Hermione! That's incredibly dark and advanced magic! When'd you make it?"

"Back in third year, I had some spare time..." she said, her voice trailing off guiltily.

"How could you have spare time?"

"I did have the time turner, Ron!" she snapped, her face blushing red.

Inside the bottle was a swirling mass of what looked like dust. But it was colored dust; dust that seemed to reflect different thoughts and emotions. The different colors swirled around like a very fast tornado and watching it began to make Harry feel sick. But it still intrigued him. How could you get all your emotion in a bottle? Harry just tried to imagine his. He saw red, a lot of red. Passion, fury, love, hate. Red.

"How do you make it?" Harry asked, tearing his eyes away from it to look at her.

"Well you start with raw Elusia Charm, which is comprised of the foundations of a Fidelius Charm – you remember what that is, of course – mixed with two drops of Veritaserum, and a secrecy spell should be added.

“Then, you take a blade and cast the Ifeledilous Spell on it, so it can't kill you, and plunge it into your heart. But, only your heart; the Ifeledilous Spell only protects your heart. In the center of your heart is your soul, and when you pull it out a small piece of your soul is on the end.

“You place that in a vial and it should come off. Then, you put the raw Elusia in and the two mix and you get an Elusia Charm."

Hermione explained this as if she was simply telling them the time.

"Excellently explained, Miss Granger. And this is yours?" Professor McGonagall was standing in front of their desk. She picked it up, and compared Hermione’s to Malfoy's.

"I mean no offense to you, Mr. Malfoy, as it is amazing that you made it, but Miss Granger's craftsmanship is much better. When did you make yours?"

"Third year."

"Mr. Malfoy, the question was directed towards you."

"Er...fifth year."

"Very impressive. Both of you are excused from the assignment. And I hope you two –" she motioned towards Harry and Ron, "–were listening to Miss Granger's excellent explanation. She just told you everything that you need to know for the test. Oh, good, Mr. Potter, you had your quill out. Yes, amazing..." Professor McGonagall walked away, still exclaiming over how astounding this was.

"If that's really all I need to know, then I can get started on the potions assignment," Harry said, pulling out his potions book.

"Harry! That's due this afternoon!" Hermione exclaimed.

"We know, we were going to do it during lunch," Ron said.

"How do you know we won't be tested on it?"

"Hermione! We managed Os on our O.W.L.s last year and we didn't study all year! I've done all – well, most – of my homework this year and managed Es on it. I mean, how hard can an essay on Veritaserum be? I already know all about it," Harry said.

"Yes," Hermione hissed, "but Ron doesn't! Harry, you'll manage, you're good at it without trying! But Ron had to spend hours in the library on our last essay, and he only got an A. You're messing him up!" she finished.

"So I'll help him," Harry replied.

"Can you help him on our O.W.L.s too?"'

"What's your point?"

"He needs to learn it!"

"Oh, fine, this'll be the last time, I swear!"

"For some reason I find that very hard to believe."

"Then don't."

Veritaserum: Production and Usage

Veritaserum is a very strong truth potion that is highly effective 100% of the time.

"That's not right. It's effective 99.97832% of the time!" Hermione corrected him.

"Fine, fine!" Harry said, crumpling his paper.

Veritaserum: Production and Usage

Veritaserum is a very strong truth potion that is highly effective 99.97832% of the time. It is used for many different reasons by the Ministry, but production is precarious and, unless exact, can be fatal.

Veritaserum: Production

Because of the rare ingredients used to create Veritaserum, it can take up to two months to make. Nott Grass – a key ingredient – must be picked at the full moon and stewed at the half moon. Boomslang skin must be left to dry for one week at exactly seventy-six degrees. Dragon’s Blood – which cancels out the effects of poison – must settle into two parts, which can take up to ten days sitting still, and each part must be added individually. Shredded root of the Kingsoil weed must be shredded to the exactly right size. Then, if more than the amount called for is used, it is useless as a truth potion, but is a poison.

The Ingredients Are:

1 sq. foot Boomslang skin

3 Cups stewed Nott Grass

1/11 teaspoon shredded Kingsoil weed

7 pints Dragon’s Blood – separated

7 pints boiling water

Instructions:

In a cauldron, place Boomslang skin and water, bring to boil and add Kingsoil weed. Let simmer for three days. On the fourth day, add the separated Dragon Blood within five minutes of each other, and add stewed Nott Grass last. Let simmer for another four days, stirring twice a day. Bottle on the fifth.

Veritaserum: Usage

Over thousands of years, the Ministry of Magic has used Veritaserum to keep law and in trials. Due to a law passed in 1608 (after a Ministry Official used Veritaserum to try and convict someone of stealing a goat and, due to overdose, killed them), Veritaserum may be used only by Aurors and in trials when warranted. For using Veritaserum illegally, they can be sentenced with up to fifteen years in prison.

In a case in 1872, Albert Alchovoff stole Veritaserum from the Ministry, where he was on the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, and brought it home. Due to rumors that his wife was involved with another man, he forced some down her throat. Because of too little Nott Grass, after taking the potion his wife could never stop talking, and spent the rest of her life telling secrets.

Veritaserum, while useful, is dangerous and can be fatal. The usage of Veritaserum is carefully observed and they have a complete list of every holder and maker of it.

"There!" Harry whispered, looking over his work. "Done! Care to read, Hermione?" Harry looked over at Hermione, who was engrossed in Undecipherable Runes. She looked at Harry, who was holding out his paper, and read it. A minute later, in which her eyes darted back and forth so quickly they were hard to find, she said, "Good. You'll make at least an E on this." She handed it back

"Yes, I'm quite witty, aren't I?" Harry said.

"Yes, and ever so modest," she replied.

Ron was sitting beside him, biting his quill and trying to complete his potions essay. Unfortunately, he was still three inches short of the assigned ten.

"Here, Ron," Harry said, opening his textbook to the page on Veritaserum, much of which was highlighted.²

"Everything that you need in the essay is highlighted." He passed it to Ron, but Hermione snatched it back up. She leaned over Harry’s desk and began whispering information to Ron, as he wrote furiously.

The bell rang moments later, and Harry worked to close his bag, which, even without his potions book, was overflowing. As he and Hermione walked to lunch, he saw Ron run off towards the library.

"It's funny seeing Ron run to the library at lunchtime instead of you," Harry said to Hermione as they sat down.

"I'm amazed he's sticking with being an Auror," she replied.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, he doesn't seem the type. I mean, it's a lot of work and he doesn't exactly do well. And, it's a lot of pressure, and he can't work under pressure. And he doesn't seem dedicated to becoming one."

"Yeah, I've always suspected he only wants to because I want to, and you're considering it. Wants to keep the same classes. You'd be in any classes he took, though."

"Well, maybe he'll change, we have another year–"

"–and a half. I know. Although, usually when you tell me that, you mean it as a bad thing."

"Harry, I never try to bug you, but these last two years are important!"

"Right..." Harry replied, piling his plate with food.

"We don't have O.W.L.s this year either," he added as an afterthought.

"Harry, you still should be studying! N.E.W.T.s are a year away!” Hermione sounded exasperated.

“Yeah, we have another whole year to study,” Harry said, taking a gulp of Pumpkin Juice.

“This is so pointless,” Hermione sighed, taking a sandwich off the plate in front of her.

“Yes, so why don’t you give up?” Harry asked, looking amused.

“Humph,” Hermione said in response, and quietly ate her sandwich.

It was when there were only five minutes remaining in the lunch hour that Ron showed up, his face slightly flustered and a piece of parchment in his hand. He shoved his essay into his bag and threw food on his plate. He ate hurriedly without even looking at what he was shoving into his mouth.

“’Ake that, Er-my-knee. Finished!” Ron said through a mouthful of macaroni.

“Ron, that is truly disgusting. How many times have I asked you to please not talk with your mouth full?” Hermione looked as though she meant what she said.

Ron chewed and swallowed before answering Hermione, which, to both Harry and Hermione, came as a great relief.

“I dunno. Why? Am I supposed to?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her book, An Advanced Guide To Basic Dark Magic: Offensive and Defensive.

“Now, Hermione, why are you reading that?” Harry asked, motioning to the book.

“Because, I for one, am planning on passing our N.E.W.T.s next year and our tests to become Aurors,” she said briskly.

“Didn’t you learn last year in the D.A. that you can’t learn it all from books?”

“Yes, Harry, I did. But I’m not trying to learn all of it from books. Just some of it.”

“Give it up, Harry. It’s impossible to get Hermione to stop trying to learn from books,” Ron muttered.

Hermione shot Ron a look but didn’t say anything. A few seconds later, the bell rang. They threw their bags over their shoulders and walked into the corridor.

“Hermione! Read my essay!” Ron said, thrusting it towards her.

“Please,” Hermione added for him.

“Read my essay now, please,” Ron said.

“Forget it. You obviously have problems with manners,” Hermione said, reading his paper quickly.

“A at the most, though most likely a P.” Hermione handed it back to Ron, who looked amazed.

“No way! An E at the least!” he said.

“Ron, if you think that–” She motioned towards his paper. “–deserves an E, then I’m sad to say you will be very disappointed when you get your N.E.W.T. scores next year.”

Ron glared at her the rest of the way to potions, but she simply ignored it as she was, once again, reading her book. Harry stared at his shoes as they walked down the stairs, and waited for one of them to say something. Finally, Hermione did.

“Harry, were you listening to what McGonagall said about Elusia Charms?”

“Erm...partially...” he said. Truthfully he had been playing hangman with Ron. But after what she had said to him earlier about Ron’s study habits, he would never admit it.

“Obviously you weren’t or you would have looked up this.” She handed Harry the book she had been reading.

Pure Blood Families in Europe:

The Averys

The Blacks

The Crabbes

The Elladoras

The Goyles

The Lestranges

The MacNairs

The Malfoys

The Melifluas

The Potters

“The Potters?” Harry asked, amazed.

“Keep reading.” Hermione said.

The Rabastans

The Tonkses

The Weasleys

The Zabinis

Amongst Pure Blood wizarding families, it is very common for parents to make Elusia Charms for their newborn children. It has been customary for centuries that the parents keep it and use it as means to track their children. Upon a ceremony at age seventeen the children are presented with the charms to give to whom they wish.

“Hermione, you don’t think my parents made one for me, do you? I mean, they weren’t obsessed with all that pure blood stuff.”

“Harry, I think they did. It’s protective! Here, read this page!” She flipped through another hundred pages to one labeled, “Elusia Charms.”

Elusia Charms are advanced charms with many uses. They have been used to track people and to save their lives. It is due to the fact that only the holder of a person’s Elusia Charm can kill them that many parents choose to make them. It is due to the one to twenty-eight failure odds that many parents don’t.

For reference see:

Elusia Charms Unwoven, by Allatrix Avery

Dark Spells and Charms, by Katherine Jones

Common Dark Magic Misconceptions, by Erin Zambini

“Yeah, see, one to twenty-eight failure odds. Notice it doesn’t exactly go into what happens when it fails,” Harry said bitterly.

“You can read up on it, then. You can get those books in the Restricted Section, I bet,” Hermione replied.

“And how will I get them?”

“McGonagall will definitely sign you off as long as you convince her you’re not trying to make one. Though it’s not like you’d need a book if you were – I could help you,” Hermione said proudly.

“Yeah. Great plan. The only problem is I don’t want to make one and I don’t want to have one.”

“Don’t you at least want to know if you have one?” Hermione asked urgently.

“Not in the least bit, and if I ever do have the urge to, which I highly doubt I will, I’ll ask Lupin,” Harry said firmly.

The three walked into the potions dungeon in silence and took their usual seats at the back of the classroom. Harry always hated when they fought and all three of them tried to avoid it, but only for his sake. The last time all three of them had been mad at each other was last summer...

“I’m bored,” Harry complained as he, Ron, and Hermione sat at the Weasley’s kitchen table.

“Me too,” Ron agreed.

“There must be something to do. And if there isn’t find something or else I’ll go back to reading Undecipherable Runes, and given enough time I may just crack them,” Hermione said sternly.

Harry and Ron laughed at this. They didn’t doubt it.

“If you three are so bored why don’t you go down to the village? I’m tired of hearing you complain!” Mrs. Weasley said as she listed to the WWN and read an autobiography of Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Seems like you three could come up with something to do. Isn’t there an evil enemy that needs defeating?” Fred or George asked over the extendable mouths.

“Yeah, and if you can’t, come up to our room. We’ve got something we...er...want you to try,” the other added.

“FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! I FORBID YOU TO TRY SOMETHING ON THOSE CHILDREN!” Mrs. Weasley yelled, stomping up the stairs.

“Why don’t we go the village,” Harry suggested.

They all walked out of the house Harry and Ron talking about a recent Puddlemere United/Holy Head Harpies match.

“It’s a wonder the Harpies even got one score on Puddlemere. Oliver’s the best keeper Puddlemere’s ever had!” Ron said.

“Puddlemere still won,” Harry pointed out.

“By ten points!” Ron said.

“Puddlemere’s seeker is off. Not very off but, just a few seconds off. Takes him a minute to realize, ‘Hey! That’s the snitch he’s going after!’”

“Then how come Puddlemere won?”

“Because the Harpie’s seeker is terrible,” Harry said sadly.

“Too true.”

“But she's better than the Canons’ by a mile or two,” Harry added.

“The Canons are just having a bad season,” Ron said. “Or two...” he added, because of the look on Harry’s face.

“Or ten!” Harry laughed.

“Will you two be quiet?” Hermione snapped.

“If only you understood the wonderfullestness of Quidditch,” Ron sighed.

“‘Wonderfullestness,’ Ronald Weasley, is not a word. ‘Greatness’ is,” she corrected.

“Whatever,” he said.

They walked down the dirt road in silence until Harry and Ron started their conversation again in whispers, hoping Hermione wouldn’t hear. The village slowly came into sight, and they had to cease to continue their conversation, as it was a Muggle village.

Harry and Hermione spent the afternoon explaining Muggle devices to an extremely confused Ron.

“But what’s the point?” Ron asked after they explained telephones to him.

“Oh, never mind!” Hermione sounded very annoyed.

They peered in many shop windows and even entered a few. Ron was very interested in magic tricks, and Hermione and Harry had to suppress their laughter. Their day was wasted away lazily until they found an interesting shop. At the end of a small cobblestone lane was a small shop called ‘Visions Rising Upon Darkness.’

“Rather long name,” Hermione commented.

“Yeah, it is.”

The shop was dark. From what they could see through the window, it was lit only by tea lights and carefully placed candles.

“Well, let’s go in,” Ron said.

The door tinkled from wind chimes when it was swung open. After a quick glance around, Harry was nearly positive that this was not a Muggle shop.

“How strange,” Hermione said, a bit of amazement in her voice.

Harry instantly looked around to find someone who was working at the store. And there was someone else. But as to whether or not she worked there, Harry had no idea. There was a girl, she could be no older than sixteen. And she looked vaguely like Malfoy.

“Welcome to Visions Rising Upon Darkness,” she said.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at each other.

“It’s a ridiculous name, isn’t it?”

“Er, kind of long...”

“I’m Erianna,”She extended a pale, bony hand.

“Harry Potter,” Harry shook her hand, which was as cold as ice

“Ron Weasley.”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Why is there a magical shop in a...er...Muggle village?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“Because our shop is the entrance to the Wizarding Villa here: Pret Alley.”

“I’ve heard of that!” Hermione exclaimed.

“How do you get into Pret Alley?” Harry asked.

“Out the back door. Any witch or wizard should be able to walk through. As long as they are not accompanied by Muggles.”

“Let’s go then.”

“Well, er, let’s go,” Ron said, walking through the wall.

Harry and Hermione followed seconds later. Once taking one look around, Harry decided that there was no way he could afford anything in Pret Alley. The shop windows were decorated with the most extravagant items that Harry had ever seen. And, for the most part, it was decorated by black.

“I have two problems. One, everything looks way too expensive. Two, everything looks way too...dark,” Hermione said seconds after the same thoughts had passed through Harry’s head.

“Yeah, I think we should go,” Ron agreed.

“Wait, why don’t we look around?” Harry asked, walking over to a shop window.

“Because, Harry, curiosity killed the cat.” Hermione’s voice was uptight and she looked severely concerned.

“I’ve heard that every time I have an idea. You know where curiosity got me, Hermione? Curiosity saved the Sorcers Stone. It killed the Basilisk. It found my godfather. It killed him too,” Harry spat back.

“Harry! Don’t overreact!” Ron stepped between the two, who were glaring daggers at each other.

“Fine, we’ll go!” Harry said, turning around and stepping through the wall.

Hermione ran after him with Ron a few paces behind her. They bypassed the shop, and walked out of the alleyway. Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm after dashing to catch up with him.

“Harry,” she hissed, “you’re being ridiculous. All we did was say we thought we should go!”

“Right. I guess I forgot that you guys have all the answers,” Harry shot back at her.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Ron said, slinking off decidedly. Those two could really go at it.

“Harry! You know we don’t have all the answers.”

“But you sure try to, Hermione.”

“I don’t try to be perfect. Nor do I claim to be. Harry, teenage girls are the ones who are supposed to have the horrible tempers. Not teenage boys. But maybe you need to get over your whole ‘I’m a hero!’ stage. It is really annoying.”

“Hermione, I don’t try to be like this! I just am!”

“Then maybe you should try not to be.”

“Hermione, I –”

“Harry James Potter, don’t apologize.”

“I won’t. Believe me. I wanted to say that I will.”

“Good. Maybe your ego will shrink in the process.”

“Okay, I am going to apologize.” Harry sighed. “Hermione, I’m so sorry I was like that. I don’t know what happened to me.” Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione in a tight hug.

“Harry, you’ve had a bad time. I would be unbearable if I found out that my family was full of Death Eaters.” Hermione patted his back sympathetically.

Harry, finding himself at a loss for words, leaned down and kissed Hermione. Her body stiffened as he did so, and after a few seconds she pushed him away.

“No, Harry,” she said. With that, Hermione walked off and left Harry to his own thoughts. What neither of them realized at that moment was that Ron watched this scene unfold. As did someone else.

Harry snapped out of his memory by Snape’s sharp voice taking twenty points from Gryffindor for his lack of attention.

“Now, Potter. Kindly tell me what it was that was so much more fascinating than my class?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, after deciding that ‘anything’ was an inappropriate answer.

“No, I’m sure there was something,” Snape replied.

“What I meant, sir, was nothing that I would tell you,” Harry snarled.

“I believe that that has become a problem, then. I’m sure that you remember our, shall I say...experiencein your fifth year. Let’s see if you’ve improved any.”

“No,” Harry said as Snape reached for his wand. “You can’t.”

“I can. I am your professor. You are merely a student. I require your respect.”

“Well, professor, I don’t feel like having my mind intruded upon today. I prefer to keep my thoughts what they are. Private.”

“Potter, I fear you are quite naive. I could have intruded upon your mind without you even knowing it,” Snape hissed.

Fortunately, the bell rang at that moment and they were able to escape without losing any more points for Gryffindor. Harry refused to make eye contact with Hermione as they made their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Finally, Hermione gave in and said something.

“Harry. Talk with me for a minute,” she said.

“Fine.”

They walked out of Ron’s earshot and stopped by a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw.

“In potions today...what were you thinking about?”

“What do you think, Hermione? I was thinking about the summer.”

“No, what was the rest of his sentence?”

“Over my dead body,” Harry replied.

“Come on, Harry. You can tell me. You are talking about me!”

“No, Hermione. I was thinking about you. And I prefer to keep my thoughts private.”

“Private?” Hermione scoffed. “Harry, nothing you say, think, or do is private. You’re Harry Potter. You don’t know private.”

“Yeah, well this is.”

“Harry. I know what you were thinking about. But I don’t know what you were thinking. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to think if you don’t give me some sort of idea.” Hermione stood on her tip toes to peck Harry’s cheek. And then she took a moment to study Harry. Finally, looking away she said: “Maybe you need some time to sort yourself out,” Hermione finished, and walked away.

Right. I need time to sort myself out. Sure... Harry thought to himself. He tried to make sense of all that had happened that day, but he ended up walking back to the Common Room without really realizing that he had started moving his feet.

Harry passed up any offers at conversation and walked straight up to his dormitory.

Once there, he flopped onto his bed and tried urgently to get to sleep. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming...

*****

Harry woke up the next morning and the first thing he felt was the killer headache he predicted he’d have. He was sore from sleeping badly, as well as emotionally tried. He had half a mind to sleep the day away but he knew he couldn’t.

“Damn my conscience,” he muttered as he rolled out of bed.

Harry took a quick shower and attempted to run a brush through his hair, which was an useless attempt, of course.

Harry trudged down the stairs and took a seat by Ron. He looked at Harry and nodded his head towards Hermione.

“She said she needs to talk with you,” Ron said.

“Right. I’ll talk with her later.” Harry stared into the fire.

“She said it was urgent and that you had to talk to her.”

“What does she need to talk with me about? I finished all my homework.”

Ron shot a glare at Harry and forced him to go sit with Hermione.

“Harry. I want you to look over this and tell me what you think.” Hermione roughly shoved a piece of paper into his hands.

“And why can’t you just tell me what it says?”

“Because you, Harry James Potter, are being a prat and you need to read for yourself.”

“Uh huh. Would you read it if I apologized?”

Hermione gave him a look and sent him away with a wave of her hand. Harry sat down in an armchair and tried to concentrate on what he was supposed to be reading.

For some reason the words weren’t sinking in.

Among...have it...Potter...Instantaneous...death...impossible

“Hermione!” Harry yelled.

“Yes?”

“Can you just tell me?”

“What it says, Harry, is that you have an Elusia Charm.”

“And?”

“AND?! You don’t know who has it! Whoever does could kill you!” Hermione gaped at him.

“How many times have I had death threats, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Harry! This isn’t dueling. All they have to do is open a bottle and you’re dead. Don’t you get that?”

“Really, ’Mione, what happened to being mad at me?”

“Harry. How can I be mad at you when you might die and second now. Just drop dead.”

“Whoever it is has waited 16 years. I doubt they’ll kill me now. And how do you know someone evil has it?”

“Who else would? I’ve asked Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin, even Snape! That’s about all that’s left, Harry. Now if you can find a better solution-”

“Snape?!”

“Harry,” Hermione scolded, “let me finish. This is an excellent lecture that deserves finishing. Now, if you have a better idea than to find it, do let me know.” Hermione glared at him, wanting to get on with this.

“Does Ron know?”

“Yes. I told him last night after you stormed off.”

“I did not storm off. I was tired. Pardon me if that’s a crime.”

“Will you two shut the bloody hell up?!” Ron asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at them.

“Fine, Harry. If you’re set upon dying a rather painful death, don’t let me, your best friend, stand in your way.”

“Don’t be like that,” Harry muttered.

“Then what do you propose we do?”

“Fine! Fine! We’ll go to the library and pore over records, then leave hours later no better off!” Harry threw his hands up.

“Now that sounds like a plan,” Hermione replied sarcastically.

“Why do I bother anymore? I mean, you’ve made it obvious that you’re just as stubborn as me.” Harry looked intently at Hermione’s face as he said this and was glad to see the traces of a grin on her face. That was exactly what Harry wanted. He was hoping to lighten the mood.

They walked out of the portrait hole in a comfortable silence. Comfortable silence was something common between them these days. Ever since the summer holidays.

“Well, Harry, we need records,. So we’ll take this table.” Hermione’s voice jerked him out of his thoughts as she walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out large record binders from 1975-1995.

“Here, Harry. You can look through Family Magic Bindings Records of 1980.

“Right. Will do.”

Harry first tried to look up Potter in the index but it skipped from Portkeys to Pumpkin Charms. He then looked up July 31st. Then he searched the entire month of August. No trace of any Elusia Charms.

Hermione walked down the lane, leaving Harry with his mouth wide open. It took him a moment to make himself go after her and his heavy footfalls fell loudly on the cobblestone as it turned to dirt. He saw the shape of a person sitting on a rock by the river.

It took all of Harry’s courage to go and sit down by Hermione. She was tossing stones into the river, each one making large ripples on the glassy surface. It was strangely ironic, somewhat like their friendship. Larger ripples as they got farther out. Just like how the life-altering events got more and more important. Harry rested a hand on her shoulder and her head jerked toward him. The edges of her face were lined with shimmering tears, as were her eyes.

“Hermione –” Harry started to try to explain.

“No, Harry. Don’t explain. I can’t fathom an explanation that would make what you did okay.” Hermione took in a sharp, ragged breath as she said this.

“Can I at least say something?” Harry asked desperately.

Hermione nodded slowly and stared up at him. He opened his mouth but no words came out. In his head he was trying to find something to say. Anything to say. But what do you say in this sort of situation? You’ve just kissed your best friend for no reason. Or not one you can find. She pushes you away and runs off. What do you say?

“I’m sorry. If I could tell you why I kissed you, I would. But I can’t. I would love to know. I’m sorry for not being able to tell you too.”

“Harry! It wasn’t that I was mad! It’s not like you’ve...”

“Ever shown any romantic interest you in any way, shape, or form before?” Harry suggested.

“Yes. I mean...Harry, I don’t think I’m very comfortable talking about this.”

“But I need to. I’ll feel horrible if I don’t.”

“Some other time.” Hermione got off her rock and began her walk back to the Burrow.

“Harry! Can you please try to do what I told you to?”

“What was that?” Harry rubbed his eyes.

“Listen, for one. And please, just try to find something.”

“I am listening,” he replied stubbornly.

“Oh, what’s the use?”

Ron came running over to them, a letter in hand. He was panting and had to rest a hand on their table to steady his breathing.

“Harry, Hermione. Owl. Just...came.”

“You open it, Harry,” Hermione said instantly.

“Why me?” Harry asked.

“Because, you’re Harry Potter. Now open it.”

Harry opened the envelope and a single piece of paper fluttered out.

To Mr. Potter and Miss Granger:

This letter is in regards to your work in the library. You won’t find what you’re looking for in books. You must ask to find. You must look to answer. And choose your people well; it would not be wise for this to get out.

“Now that’s real helpful.” Harry glared at the paper.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Read for yourself.” Harry thrust it at her.

“It’s a riddle. And a stupid one. But I think whoever this is is right. It won’t be in a book.”

“Hermione’s given up hope on the library!” Ron threw his hands up.

“No, I haven’t. It just won’t work. Now, at least.”

*****

The weekend passed in a blur to Harry. Hermione spent her time scribbling on pieces of paper and staring at the Marauder’s Map. Ron was engrossed in a Quidditch book and Harry was left to his thoughts. He found himself thinking desperately of Quidditch. There hadn’t been practice since their Slytherin/Gryffindor match.

“Malfoy!” He jumped up and yelled.

“What?” Ron and Hermione turned to him and stared.

“Malfoy might know! He was going on about them in Transfiguration and his father...” Harry’s voice trailed off.

“Harry, I think you’re a brilliant wizard. And you have great plans. But I honestly don’t think going to Malfoy with our problems is the most brilliant idea.” Hermione’s eyes were wide with concern and it hurt Harry to speak the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, Hermione, I think I should make my own choices. You aren’t always right, even if you think so.”

“Harry, please, don’t say that.”

“Hermione, the truth hurts me more then it can hurt you.”

“Harry! You’ve been like this ever since this summer when you kissed me!” Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as she had said this.

Ron’s head snapped towards the two. Harry, standing at the portrait hole, observed Hermione with what could only be mild amusement.

“You kissed Hermione?” Ron asked.

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione yelled.

“If you want privacy then go somewhere else. I’ll talk to you lot later.”

“Hermione, I’m going to find Malfoy.” Harry said and walked out of the open portrait.

Long after it slammed close Hermione stared at it in hopeless shock. She had half a mind to go after him but didn’t want to see him in the slightest bit. How could she say that in front of Ron? Hermione stomped up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. After a short prayer that Ron was decent Hermione ripped open the door.

Ron was sitting at his desk cracking each finger, and then staring at it.

“Ron. You need to say what you need to. I know there’s something.”

“Yes, Hermione. There is something. It’s your bloody fault that Harry’s being like this!”

Hermione, finding herself at a loss for words, shook her head and walked out of the door from which she had just come. She then found herself walking out the portrait hole, without any knowledge of doing so. Hermione sunk down against the wall outside there and put her face into her arm. She found herself, for what was the first time, but definitely not the last, crying over a boy.

After a few racking sobs she collected herself and walked slowly down to the Great Hall, intent on finding Harry, or Malfoy if it came down to that. She needn’t look far, as she heard muffled yelling coming from a vacant classroom very nearby.

“Why not?” Harry was yelling.

“Because I don’t bloody know where it is!”

“Yes, you do!”

“I think you’re going mad, Potter.”

Hermione pulled open the door and was greeted with the sight of the two glaring at each other. Malfoy’s angry gaze was mixed with suspicion.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled in exasperation.

“What do you want, Granger?”

“I,” she said indignantly, “am here for my best friend. Or someone who used to be.”

“Do I smell tension?” Malfoy asked.

“No, Malfoy, you do not. You can not smell tension. Sense, yes. That is feasible.”

“Do I sense tension?” He rephrased his question, sarcasm dropping like icicles from his voice.

“Yes. Now, I need a moment with him, please.” Hermione jerked her thumb over her shoulder and at Harry.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You are so melodramatic. Did you honestly have to make such a scene back in the common room? Now Ron blames me for you being an asshole –”

“What? You think he’s an asshole? This is good. I come here because Potter wants to yell at me and uncover tension! Is this not worth it?” Malfoy asked, a smirk coming onto his face.

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?!” Hermione yelled, small patches of red appearing on her face.

“Hermione, I honestly don’t feel like discussing us in front of this prat.”

“I don’t see why not. You’ve been avoiding the subject. What do you care if he finds out?”

“Fine. Make your point.”

“Now is later. I said I would talk about it later and I think that it’s later.”

“Fine, what do you want?”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Haven’t I all ready bloody told you that I DON’T KNOW?!”

“If you don’t figure it out-”

“I am leaving,” Malfoy said disgustedly, and walked out.

“NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID! I NEEDED TO TALK TO HIM! HE KNEW!”

“Then go after him.”

“I will.”

Hermione then realized that that was the fourth time that day that someone had stormed out of a room she was in. She walked slowly to the library, lost in her thoughts, and pulled out a stack of books that she felt may be called upon later. She knew that once returning, Harry would have a plan. And if he didn’t, things were much worse than she had imagined.

*****

Harry looked down the hallway and saw a small figure in the distance. Its silvery blond hair was a dead giveaway.

“MALFOY!” he yelled.

The figure turned around and Harry felt Malfoy staring at him. Harry bolted down the stairs to where he was. Malfoy was leaned against the way, observing him with detached interest.

“Left that room I see. I was afraid that after screaming at each other, you and that Mudblood might kiss. Really, that’s no incentive to stay. No incentive to stay at all.”

“Hermione is not a Mudblood,” Harry replied through gritted teeth. “And I wouldn’t kiss her,” he added rather lamely.

“Really? That’s not what I heard. Harry, why did you kiss me?” Malfoy smirked as he put on a high, false voice.

“I hate you,” Harry spat.

“Then why are you here? Either you are very desperate or madly in love.”

“I need your help, and if you say one more thing like that...” Harry said this with what looked like great mental and physical pain.

“You want to go off and find that charm. I know. I got that general gist from what you were yelling at me earlier. What can I do to help you?”

While some people may take this as a kind offering of help, Harry knew better.

“It’s because of your father. You must have some idea where it is.”

The two boys then took a moment to glare daggers at each other, which is not the most effective method of getting what you want. They were on opposite sides of the hallway, with arms crossed over their chests. Their glares were intent and sharp.

“Maybe I do. But what’s in it for me? Why should I help you?”

“Because I had a small feeling that you wanted yours back too.”

“How did you know about that?!” Malfoy yelled. His voice was suddenly strained, like it actually hurt him to talk about it.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“If I help you, I have terms. One, I am not, in any way, doing this for your benefit. Two, no one knows. Three, we make a plan that does not have the words: Duck, yell, mirror, You-Know-Who, or grave in it. And if I get a bloody scar on my forehead then-”

“Fine, though if you do get a scar I take no responsibility,” Harry shot back.

Malfoy then extended a long, bony hand. Harry stared at it and then moved his eyes to Malfoy’s face. For the first time Harry noticed his eyes. They were sharp and grey. They reminded him of murky water. And somewhere below them there was pain, fury, and hope. Harry shook his hand and met his gaze.

“We have a deal,” Harry said.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know where Hermione is. Maybe you didn’t notice, and it wouldn’t surprise me if that was the case, but we’re not on the best terms.”

“Well, we need a plan and she seems to have them, unless it’s the Weasel that comes up with them.”

“I’ll find her. You, er...I dunno, wait in the library.”

Harry ran up to the common room, afraid she may not be there. But as he slowly stepped into the portrait hole, and glanced around, he found he was wrong. Hermione was sitting at her table, a pile of books beside her. She had one open, though Harry was sure she wasn’t reading it.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You need a plan,” she stated.

“Erm, yeah.”

“Library?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, yeah. Lets go.” Harry pulled Hermione to her feet.

They walked in an uncomfortable silence. Hermione was staring straight ahead as Harry stood at his feet. Each footfall echoed in the deserted hallway. The lights cast eerie shadows on them, and Harry was very thankful that no one was out at ten o’clock at night.

“I don’t think this is the way to go about it,” Harry said suddenly.

“You think we don’t need a plan?” Hermione asked.

“No, I think we should just go,” Harry replied.

“Okay, let’s go.” Hermione turned after a moment of thought.

Harry noticed then that she was suddenly pale. Her eyes stood out like bright beacons upon a black night sky. Her lips, like blood against snow. Her face was partially covered by shadows.

“Are you all right, Hermione? You look awful.” Harry bit his lip to keep from saying more.

“Oh, I guess I’m just tired. I haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep.”

There was a moment in which Harry and Hermione studied each other, but it was broken by Harry turning.

“I’m going to go get Malfoy.”

“What? He’s coming?”

“Yes, he is,” Harry replied indignantly

“I swear, if he goes at me once, he gets slapped.”

Harry chuckled at smiled at down Hermione.

“It would be greatly appreciated.”

*****

“We’re flying?” Malfoy asked, amazed.

Harry, Hermione and Malfoy were standing behind the school by the broom shed. It was closing in on five in the morning, and a light drizzle was falling. The first hints of grey light were peeking out from behind the clouds. The night had been bickered away as they tried to figure out how they were going to do what they needed to. Hermione had been silent through most of it, dying to ask how Harry and Malfoy had agreed to work together. Quite frankly, it amazed her. Of course, they were still spending much of their time glaring at each other and making horrible comments, but they could be civil, in a rather nasty I-might-be-being-nice-but-it’s-because-I-need-something-from-you sort of way.

“Yes, you prat. We’re flying. I don’t know how else we’d get there,” Hermione shot at him.

“Hermione, you can use Ron’s broom. He may mind but that’s too bad for him.” Harry thrust it at her. Ever since the day before, Harry had been having terribly cold feelings towards Ron. Hermione suspected it was because Ron hadn’t done anything that could be considered useful. Moreover, he hadn’t done anything.

“Where are going?” Hermione asked. For the most part, she was excluded from their plans. She had watched them make them but was focused on her book.

“My house, the Malfoy Manor.”

They were quite a sight as they kicked off. Despite the fact that they had packed lightly, they still had two suitcases full. Most of which, Hermione suspected, was Malfoy’s. The suitcases had been enchanted invisible and weightless, thanks to her. Harry and Malfoy had on their traveling cloaks, and Hermione had on a Muggle overcoat.

“We go south.” Malfoy said, and neither Harry nor Hermione argued.

All morning they flew in silence. Malfoy was at front, and Harry and Hermione were behind him. The land below them changed rapidly as forests and mountains became hills and scattered trees.

“West,” Malfoy said

Hermione turned to look at Harry. He was staring straight ahead. His face could have been set in stone for all the emotion he was showing.

“Harry, what did you say to him?” Hermione hissed.

“It doesn’t concern you,” he replied coldly.

“Oh, pardon me. I have no right to be amazed that Draco Malfoy is guiding us on a search mission. No right at all.”

“There isn’t only one life in danger,” Harry continued to look straight ahead.

The rest of the day was torturous for Hermione. Harry was refusing to speak to her and she hated flying like this. Every once in a while, Hermione would catch Harry looking at her, but only for seconds at a time. He always turned away before she could read any emotion on his face.

Day turned to night, and, an hour after sunset, Malfoy dipped down. They landed with a thump.

“The Manor is another day away, walking. We can’t fly. There are tracking spells everywhere.”

Suddenly, Harry doubled up in pain. His face was white, and he had a hand placed over his chest. His eyes were wide and he was biting through his lip.

Hermione dropped to her knees beside him.

“Harry!” she cried, placing a hand on his shoulder

Her hand dropped back to her side, he had sunk down onto the ground in a dead faint.

“That was interesting. Potter just lost a bit of his soul,” Malfoy said, leaning against a tree.

“He WHAT?” Hermione shrieked.

“Yup, that’s what happens when you lose part of your soul. Very painful. Care to see?”

He was staring fixedly at the charm around Hermione’s neck. She let it drop back into her blouse and glared at him.

“Make him right. I’m can’t do MediMagic very well.” Hermione pointed to Harry.

“I could teach you.”

“No.”

Malfoy looked at her with loathing. He stepped over to where Harry laid. Hermione suddenly had many misgivings about letting Malfoy touch Harry. She bit her lip and debated stopping him. She reached up and placed a hand roughly on his shoulder.

“Hurt him and you die.” She glared at him.

“I’m not stupid enough to even try.” He glared right back at her.

“Now that’s saying something.”

Malfoy looked down at Harry and seemed to be pondering something. He stared at Harry’s limp figure and pulled out his wand.

“Why you can’t do this is beyond me.” He smirked at her as she blushed at being outdone.

“Enervate,” he muttered.

Hermione dropped to her knees once again and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. Malfoy had returned to the tree he had been perched against and watched as Harry opened his eyes.

“Well, it’s better than hell,” Harry muttered, his eyes fixed on Hermione.

She grinned in spite of herself. Something suddenly felt right. Harry and her like this. A breeze picked up and her hair fluttered around her face, like a curtain drawn around them.

“Thanks, for waking me up.” His voice reeked of a desperate need of sleep but his eyes were wide awake.

“Harry, I didn’t...Malfoy did.”

“You let him do MediMagic on me?” Harry asked, amazed.

“It wasn’t really MediMagic, it was just to wake you up. And I didn’t have any other choice–”

Harry had shoved Hermione away. She fell back onto the ground but within seconds she had regained her composure. She walked over to where Malfoy was standing.

“Thank you,” she said simply, and walked into the forest.

The two boys watched her go in silence, Malfoy with mild interest. He noticed that the expression on Hermione’s face was unreadable.

Harry made a move to get up, but Malfoy crossed the clearing in a heartbeat.

“Do you really think it’s smart to go after her?” he asked.

Harry, once more finding himself at a loss for words, laid back onto the ground.

“This wasn’t worth it,” Harry muttered.

“You’d rather die with her happy with you then live with her hating you,” Malfoy stated.

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered.

*****

Hermione suddenly realized that she didn’t have the faintest clue where she was going. And upon this realization, she sat down on the ground with a thump.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. It had only been one day but she already knew that what they were attempting was useless. There was no way in hell that they could find that Elusia Charm. No way that they would all make it there alive. She found herself wondering why she hadn’t realized this before agreeing to come. Before there was no turning back.

“Hermione.” It was a statement more than anything. Not a question. Not as though he were addressing her. He simply said her name, as if learning it.

She had been so sure that Harry wouldn’t follow her. No, she had hoped he wouldn’t. She turned towards him slowly, as though she was afraid of what she would see.

Harry was standing a few feet in front of her, looking apologetic. Looking at him made her wonder if Harry would ever live to be thirty. He was so...reckless. They all were. And trying to push these thoughts out of her head was useless.

“Harry,” she replied simply.

“I think now would be the right time for me to apologize.” He stared at the ground between them as he said this. His eyes were fixated on something Hermione didn’t see. He seemed helpless like that.

“Maybe,” she said dubiously, “but I don’t care. I’m going back.” As she coolly walked past him, Harry could have sworn he felt a small breeze of air. But that may have just been the wind.

*****

“Malfoy, where exactly are we going to sleep?” Hermione snapped at him after walking around the small clearing twice.

“I thought you were the one with the plans.”

Hermione met the glare he was giving her. She folded her arms in a challenging way that was very unlike her.

“Are you going to do something, Granger, or just stand there and glare at me?” he mocked.

Wondering, for a short moment, why she was having this argument with Draco Malfoy, she shot back, “For a while it was working to shut you up. Too bad my luck ran out. I am going to bed now.” Hermione stalked off amidst his laughter and shout, “Where exactly would that bed be?”

Hermione spent the next fifteen minutes attempting to make a tent out of sticks and a blanket. After very little success and two splinters, she threw the sticks into the woods and sat on her blanket.

“Harry must have been mad to ask you for help,” Hermione said, though she wasn’t really sure she was talking to Malfoy.

“Mad or drunk. That’s what I always say.” He smirked at her and in response she gave him a glare that could beat Ron’s.

“Why did you come, anyway?” Hermione asked, in what she hoped was a voice that didn’t sound too eager.

“He didn’t tell you?” Malfoy’s look at that moment was one of either great pleasure, or great displeasure. Hermione wasn’t sure which.

“Would I be asking if he had?”

“No, probably not. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.”

“Spit it out, Malfoy.”

“Because my Elusia Charm –not this one, the one my father has – was stolen. And I figured that if Potter couldn’t get it back, no one could.”

“So you’re using him.”

“No, we’re helping each other, in a nasty I-hate-that-I-need-your-help way.”

“I just realized that we’re having something that could be considered a civilized conversation.” Hermione was looked as though debating a matter of great importance as she said this.

“I guess we are.”

*****

Malfoy studied Hermione’s face as he said this. And then, once seeing that she wasn’t arguing, decided not to add, “Time to throw in some nasty insults.”

Instead he sat down beside her. For many years, Malfoy would never know why he crossed that clearing to sit with her, but he would never find himself regretting the decision.

“Hatred of hope. That’s all this is,” she said.

“What do you mean by that?” Malfoy asked.

Hatred of hope? That doesn’t make any sense!

“Think about it. But don’t be too disappointed if you don’t understand. It took me a while.” Hermione, after saying this, laid her head back to stare into space.

And then Harry walked into the clearing. Malfoy could only imagine how odd this would look to him: Hermione laid back on the blanket as he sat beside her.

“Okay, wrong clearing,” Harry said, turning around.

“No, you don’t Harry!” Hermione said, jumping up and grabbing his arm.

“Herm...”

“I have a feeling I won’t be getting much sleep tonight,” Malfoy said, lying down with his hands behind his head.

*****

By the time dawn broke, Hermione, Malfoy, and Harry were gone. The only sign that people had been there was a few footprints, but those would be washed away by the rains soon enough.

During most of the night, Harry and Hermione were talking in hushed voices as Malfoy drifted in and out of sleep. Finally, they all closed their eyes about three hours before dawn. They woke and silently ate their breakfast (granola and pumpkin juice), then were off with their brooms over their shoulders.

Once again, Malfoy was leading the way while Harry and Hermione were a good fifteen feet behind him.

“I can not believe you’re helping him!” Hermione hissed.

“You could say the same for what he’s doing for us,” Harry replied.

“Watch out for these rocks,” Malfoy yelled back to the two.

“They look slippery,” Hermione commented.

“They are,” Malfoy said as he slid down one with impeccable grace.

The scenery had drastically changed from what it had been the day before. Instead of fields and hills, they were once again in a heavily wooded area, and they were quickly approaching mountains.

“Where exactly are we going?” Hermione asked doubtfully.

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Great,” Hermione said sarcastically. And with that comment she slid on a rock and managed to wedge her foot under it.

Hermione let out a scream as she fell. She reached for her ankle.

“Hermione! Are you okay?” Harry stopped to sit with her.

“Does it look like it? I twisted my ankle!” she gasped, and had to bite her lip to keep from crying.

“Malfoy!” Harry yelled.

He marched back over and looked down at her. He proceeded to gingerly reach for her leg and gently pulled.

“It’s stuck well. We’ll have to go on without her.”

Harry and Hermione glared at him as she tried to remove her leg.

“I’ll go for help,” Harry said.

“Isn’t there a spell? Wingardium Leviosa?” Hermione asked urgently.

“It’s too risky with your ankle under there,” Malfoy answered.

“You’re leaving me with him?” Hermione asked.

“It’ll be good for you.” Malfoy faked a smile.

“And I’m quicker,” Harry said.

“I have no say in this, do I?” Hermione folded her arms over her chest.

“Fine, what do you want to do?”

“Risk it, Harry.”

Harry looked at her and had opened his mouth to refuse when Malfoy pulled out his wand and pointed it at the boulder.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” he cried. The boulder rose up and Hermione jerked her leg away. It landed with a crash a few feet away.

“Th-thanks,” Hermione stammered as she clutched her ankle.

“Oh, er... you’re welcome.” He looked fidgety as he said this and the thought occurred to Hermione that he wasn’t used to being thanked.

“I can’t walk,” she stated after trying to stand up.

“Just our luck,” Harry said dryly.

“And you, Potter, are far too weak to carry her. So I will.” Malfoy walked over to Hermione and picked her up with ease.

“Thank you, Malfoy.” Hermione tried to smile.

“I suppose that if I’m stuck with you lot then you can call me Draco. But I warn you...”

Hermione giggled as Harry rolled his eyes.

“How drunk were your parents? I mean, who in their right mind names their child Draco?” Harry asked.

“It’s a family name. Anyway, my mum thought it was nice.”