Subplot

10 - Harry

It wasn't a big deal to let Sirius have his Invisibility Cloak. The Cloak was one of Harry's most valued possessions, but when Dumbledore had asked him, he had agreed without a moment's hesitation. Just to think that Sirius would live at Hogwarts for a while, that he could sneak out and see him every day, made him happy. That Remus Lupin would come and be Sirius' Spellsearch partner was also good news. The only thing to worry about, it seemed, was Buckbeak. While the Hippogriff was safe and happy in the large garden of Lupin's ramshackle house in Wales, he could not stay there on his own. Lupin had owled that he did not know anybody to whom he could entrust the dangerous beast, so he would have to take him along when he came to Hogwarts.

Harry, Ron and Hermione decided to visit Hagrid in his hut and to tell him all the big news. After all, the half-giant, recently conspicuously lovesick, pining after Madame Maxime, was very much in need of cheering. They knew that besides being a member of Dumbledore's secret order, Hagrid truly cared for Sirius and Lupin, both of whom he had known since they were boys. And of course, their Care of Magical Creatures teacher dearly loved Buckbeak.

"Bless his little beak, he's comin' home to me," Hagrid had commented with tears in his eyes. "Won't be any trouble to have 'im back here, he ain't hurting anybody, is he?" Even though it was always nice to see Hagrid overjoyed, Harry knew that the gamekeeper was once more unduly simplifying matters. Where would they keep the conspicuous Hippogriff which had been sentenced to death more than a year ago?

"This castle will be bristling with secrets before the year is over," Ron said to Harry and Hermione when they hurried from Hagrid's hut back to the castle. Dusk was falling quickly, and they knew they had to be inside before dark. With Quidditch practice squeezed in after their afternoon lessons, there was precious little time left to visit Hagrid now. Fred and George were trailing behind the three of them. They had grudgingly consented to come along to comply with the 'students-out-in-the-grounds-only-in-groups-of-four-rule,' and had only too willingly agreed to wait for their brother and his friends outside Hagrid's hut. Harry had the impression the twins were cooking up some kind of mischief of their own again.

"These secrets could mean so much trouble," Hermione complained. "Just imagine, if we need to call a team of Aurors again, and they need to search the castle. They'd find" - her voice sunk to a whisper - "Snuffles, an illegal Hippogriff, and a werewolf that's not supposed to be here either. And they would find Snuffles and Lupin involved in secret research on Dark Magic, which is officially restricted by Ministry guidelines... . I dread to think what could happen. And of course, we have to expect another Death Eater attack any day, so we might need the Aurors to come again soon. What are we going to do then?"

"Always cheerful and optimistic, that's our Hermione," Ron commented. "Don't you think it's brilliant that Sirius and Lupin will do their research here?"

"Keep your voice down," hissed Hermione. "These grounds have ears." Harry nodded in emphasis. There was no reason to mistrust Fred and George, who were wrapped up in conversation anyway, but certain secrets had to be well kept for safety reasons.

"I'm only glad there's no Draco Malfoy anymore who could spy on us," he replied to Hermione's warning. "He'd be on our tracks any day now and would make sure Snuffles was caught again. But I agree with you, Hermione - it's not like we can trust everybody in this castle here."

In the distance, they saw the silhouettes of Professor Varlerta, Ginny and Neville leave the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's building. Professor Varlerta was walking them back to the castle to make sure they were safe. Who makes sure she is safe if she is out here on her own, Harry wondered, or who makes sure that Hagrid is safe in his hut? He had come to regard the castle as a fortress which protected only those who lived inside of it. Everybody saw Death Eaters everywhere. They might be lurking behind the shrubs. They might be standing around on the hills west of the castle, preparing their next attack with the Icy Finger curse. Maybe they would do it at night when everybody was asleep. Maybe they would do it when Professor Varlerta was away in her building and could not protect the students. Or they might attack Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Snape first so that there was no one able to fight back. - Odd that he had come to think of Snape as a safety factor, he suddenly thought.

In the Entrance Hall, the three of them were greeted by a very angry-looking Professor McGonagall.

"Potter and Weasley, you are fifteen minutes late," she said icily. "I've been searching the whole castle for you. What are you thinking of, to let Mr. Pigmalgion wait? He has a very demanding job and is doing you a great kindness by coming to see you. I wish you'd appreciate it instead of embarrassing me by your tardiness."

"Oh, Harry, Ron, don't tell me you had an appointment with the Ensouler and forgot," Hermione chided. "How can you be so negligent?" Ron made a face at her in response. High above them, Peeves was singing something along the lines of: "Hang them, quarter them, toast them and torture them!"

"Hurry, boys and make sure you apologize very properly," Professor McGonagall snapped at them and silenced Peeves with a sharp look. Harry did not dare to point out to her that they still had their practice pawns in their dormitory. Obediently, Ron and he headed off to the classroom where they were supposed to meet the Ensouler.

Facing the dignified elderly wizard was a trial indeed. His mild look of disapproval at their hasty apologies, his frown when he told them that boys would be boys, made Harry feel uncomfortable. Surely the Ensouler meant the opposite of what he said, namely that he expected Harry to act responsibly like an adult, that Harry should spend his time on improving his skills instead of on visiting Hagrid in his hut. Dumbledore had told Harry he had coped with the duties of a grown wizard when fighting against Lord Voldemort. He had made him a member of his secret order, had given him a place among the adults. And here he was, making excuses to Mr. Pigmalgion like a schoolboy. No wonder that he did not live up to the Ensoulers' expectations. He did not even have his lifeless pawn with him. Mr. Pigmalgion was not amused.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pigmalgion, but our pawns don't do anything yet, anyway," Ron told him. "We've played with them three times or more a week like you told us, but they still do not move at our command. To me, they do not look a bit more lively than when you gave them to us four weeks ago."

"Of course, I haven't even had mine for more than two weeks now, because it's a replacement," Harry conceded, ashamed of his chessmen's violent behaviour towards his first wooden pawn.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Potter, I do admit this sounds a bit disappointing," Mr. Pigmalgion told them. "But be that as it may, I still request that you fetch your pawns. I would like to see them for myself."

Ron offered to run to Gryffindor Tower to get the two sets of chessmen, and the Ensouler sent him away. Harry realised that Ron had chosen the more convenient alternative, because now that he was alone with Mr. Pigmalgion, the Ensouler subjected him to the closest scrutiny and cross-examination. Had he never accidentally Ensouled anything in his childhood? Did he have any idea why his chessmen had treated the wooden pawn with such outrageous brutality? What exactly had happened when Ron and he had flown the old Ford Anglia?

Harry had the impression that his answers failed to satisfy, so he was glad when Ron returned, carrying Harry's chessmen in the wooden box, his own stowed away in the old woolly hat and the parchment envelope in which Harry still kept his replacement pawn.

Mr. Pigmalgion first looked at Ron's pawn. Harry was envious to see it was not even scratched. Only too obviously had Ron bullied his other chess figures into leaving it alone. Mean fighters that they were, they seemed to respect - or fear - Ron enough to obey. When Harry had gotten his replacement pawn, he had given his chessmen a similar speech of warning, but the little marble figures had not been overly attentive. Harry had heard them giggle among themselves. The chessmen did not respect their owner, that much was certain. But even though Ron was so much better than he was in keeping his chessmen under control, he had not yet managed to Ensoul the wooden pawn. Mr. Pigmalgion turned the small, black figure in his hands for more than a minute, scrutinised it, held it to his ear and breathed on it. Finally he even shook it. Nothing happened. With a sigh, he put the lifeless pawn back into the chessmen's hat, blatantly disregarding the not-so-clean handkerchief in which it had been wrapped for extra protection.

Harry's pawn failed to be more promising. Mr. Pigmalgion spent far less time examining it, maybe because Ron's chessmen had made a better impression on his last visit, or maybe because Harry hadn't owned it for so long. When the Ensouler put the pawn back into the envelope, he couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed himself that no little miracle had happened since he had last touched it. But of course, Sirius was going to stay at Hogwarts, which should suffice in terms of miracles.

"Don't take it too hard, boys," Mr. Pigmalgion said to them, his tone suggesting the opposite once more. Harry noticed it was back to 'boys,' not Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter anymore. Obviously, their new adult status was a thing granted or withdrawn depending on how well they performed. After the Ensouler's curt farewells, Harry and Ron made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, their spirits a bit lower than before.

In the common room they found Hermione revising her Arithmancy homework, a purring Crookshanks on her lap, her quill poised over some complicated-looking graphs and drawings. When Ron suddenly slammed his woollen hat on her table, he managed to startle her enough to make her drop her quill. A Knut-sized ink stain spread on the piece of parchment. Ron's chessmen immediately began to complain; their screams and curses were muffled by the wool. Hermione glared at him.

"You are the most worthless piece of garbage in this whole school," she hissed. "Look at what you made me do! You just spoiled the work of a whole afternoon just because you think it's funny. Now I have to do the whole thing all over again."

"Don't get all worked up, Hermione," Ron said, gazing down at the piece of parchment. "It's only an ink stain." He took his hat from the table. The chessmen seemed to be hitting it from the inside with their little flinty fists, obviously furious.

"Only an ink stain?" Hermione rose from her seat. Her flushed face was distorted with anger now. Knowing what was good for him, Crookshanks fled. "'Only an ink stain,' he says. I know you don't care about the quality of your work, but as a matter of fact, I do." She sat down again, took a clean piece of parchment from her bag and started to copy her homework's heading on it with a trembling hand: 'Magical Strength Calculations in time and space.'

"Hermione," Ron said with a sigh, cradling the wriggling hat in his hands, "look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spoil your homework; I just wanted to startle you a little. But it's only a tiny little ink stain. Professor Vector won't kill you for it. It's not like you really have to do it all over again now, you just want to make me feel bad."

Hermione did not look up from her piece of parchment, but continued copying. Harry could see her bottom lip trembling.

"Game of Exploding Snap?" Ron asked her with forced casualty. Hermione threw her quill down on the new piece of parchment in anger, causing an even bigger stain than the first one. She turned red as a beetroot and rose so rapidly that her chair toppled over.

"I know that the subtleties of Arithmancy are beyond your comprehension, but that doesn't give you the right to keep others from doing their work. These graphs have cost me several hours, and -"

"Look, Hermione, will you just calm down!" Ron was shouting now himself. "I said I was sorry. But why do you always have to be that picky? It's not like your homework is illegible, is it? Just hand it in and say the stain was my fault. Say it's because your friend is the most worthless piece of garbage in this whole school."

"Oh, Ron, you know I didn't mean that. I just said it because you made me so upset. You see, I really enjoy Arithmancy, and Professor Vector is such a great teacher. I'd simply hate to hand in this mess you made of my homework."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I made you upset, didn't I? Well, maybe if you weren't such an insufferable teacher's pet, you wouldn't go into hysterics that easily, would you?"

Hermione inhaled deeply several times, then said in a mean, soft voice: "By the way, how is Ensouling coming along, Ron?"

Harry decided it was definitely time to leave Gryffindor Tower. He turned on his heels and went through the Portrait Hole, hearing Ron's loud tirade of rage behind him. Just when he turned around the corner of the corridor, Hermione's high-pitched scream of an answer caught his ear: "What in the world does Victor Krum have to do with this?"

Harry wandered around aimlessly for a bit. He would have liked to see Sirius again, but his godfather would have to spend at least one more night in Professor Varlerta's attic before his own rooms were ready. The corridors were empty, the staircases deserted. Glancing at his watch, Harry realised he should return to the Gryffindor common room soon if he did not want to get into trouble, but he would rather not witness any more of his friends' row. Why did Ron and Hermione always have to fight this way? He suspected that Ron might have feelings for Hermione that went beyond mere friendship and that Ron might even be jealous of Victor Krum, but that did not really excuse his behaviour, did it? Harry turned into the dark hallway that led to Professor Flitwick's classroom, amazed that he had walked this far without noticing. Its large windows were framed with shallow niches holding window seats. Looking out, he could see a few lighted windows in the walls of the castle's east wing. The moon, approaching fullness, shone through the black criss-cross of empty branches. Nobody was shouting here, or uttering insults to hurt a friend. The silence was a blessing, soothing his ears, just like the velvety semi-darkness was a comfort to the eyes.

Suddenly Harry heard a very soft noise in the niche next to him, a breathing sound made by another living being. He sneaked up to it and saw Cho Chang sitting cross-legged on the wooden windowsill. In the faint light of the moon he noticed that her face was moist with tears. She was crying noiselessly. Harry felt he should leave her in peace, but she was already looking up. For a minute, neither of them moved in any way. Harry wondered if he should leave, but could not bring himself to just walk away. Then he saw Cho change position on the windowsill. She shifted, making room for him on the broad plank. Harry hoisted himself up and sat beside her. He watched Cho wipe her eyes with her sleeve.

I should say something now, he thought. 'It will be alright.' No, it will not. Cedric won't come back to life, will he? 'Don't be sad.' But she is, and telling her not to be is not the best way to show that I care about her. 'You will get over him.' Great. Sounds like I think she doesn't really care that much about him. 'If you need somebody, here I am.' To do what? To make her forget her grief? To take Cedric's place? What else could he say? 'What goes up must come down.' - 'There should be laughter after pain, there should be sunshine after rain.' - 'Don't you cry-y tonight, there's a heaven above you, baby.' Certainly platitudes from Ginny's collection of old records, most of which she had inherited or nicked from Bill and Charley, would not be very helpful here.

Harry would have liked to touch Cho, to stroke her shoulder or her shiny black hair, to show her he cared for her, but somehow he was sure it would not be a good idea to touch her now. As he could not think of anything intelligent to say, he just sat there and watched her stare into nothingness. It seemed to him that a very long time passed. Cho did not look at him, and he wondered if he should just go away, if she would rather be alone. After a while she finally turned to him, gave him the faintest of smiles, slipped off the windowsill and walked off into the direction of Ravenclaw Hall. Harry looked after her until the darkness of the corridor had swallowed her. Then he got off the windowsill as well and went back to Gryffindor Tower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning during Transfiguration, Harry noticed that Ron was unusually quiet, while Hermione sported slightly red eyes. Both seemed to avoid each other's eyes; if they talked, they talked to Harry. They spent the whole day ignoring each other. Harry was already starting to worry that another era of non-communication might break out, but at some point during their classes, his friends must have reached a kind of truce: when Pansy Parkinson tried to sneak some Potion Spoiler into Hermione's cauldron, Ron spotted her and deftly caught the Slytherin girl by her wrists before she could execute her plan. Harry hurried to pry the little powder-filled paper bag out of her hands and let it disappear in the depth of his robes' pockets. Hermione gave both of her friends big smiles of gratitude. All this happened in silence, because Professor Snape was standing only a few desks away, frightening Lavender Brown with some very detailed instructions concerning circular stirring movements. The Potions Master must have noticed their little struggle nevertheless. He turned around and approached them with a dark scowl; the green of his hair rapidly grew in intensity.

"Weasley! Potter! What on earth do you think you are doing, harassing Miss Parkinson in this fashion?"

Conflicts related to Wheeze Potion Spoiler were to be kept among students; such was the unwritten law of Snape's dungeon. All students had a packet or two of the fine, crystalline powder somewhere in their robes' pockets, and nobody wanted - terrifying thought - to be caught with it. Pansy Parkinson, however, now resorted to ear-piercing screams and struggled violently to get out of Ron's grip, probably because her robes' pockets did not hold any more of the forbidden substance. Even though Ron let Pansy go immediately, Snape was at his side in a moment, took hold of his arm and pulled him back.

"Weasley, I will not tolerate this kind of brawl among students in my dungeon! Potter, maybe you should concentrate on your less than satisfying work instead of participating in such disgraceful behaviour! I deduct ten points from Gryffindor for each of you!" Snape was flushed with anger now; his hair had turned a dangerous colour. Harry could see the smug look on Pansy's face. He would have liked to slap her.

From experience Harry knew that arguing would do no good here. A search of his pockets would unearth Pansy's little bag of Potion Spoiler, but it certainly wasn't a piece of evidence that would convince Snape of Harry's innocence. Ron must have thought along the same line, because he simply bowed his head in pretended submission and did not talk back, though he clenched his fists tightly. Snape gave the two of them another furious stare, then let matters rest with his punishment. When he had turned his attention away from them to help Pansy Parkinson with her potion, Hermione whispered her thanks to Harry and Ron.

"I'm sorry you got into trouble because of me," she said, smiling at both of them. Ron hesitated only for a brief moment, then replied:

"No problem, any time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After classes had finished, Professor McGonagall caught Harry in the hallway just at the moment when Ron and he left the common room to head off to Quidditch practice.

"Will you please come with me for a minute, Harry? I'd like to show you something."

Harry handed Ron his freshly laundered practice robes and his Firebolt. He asked him to take his things to the pitch and tell Angelina he would come as soon as possible. Professor McGonagall gave him an approving nod. Harry had a fairly good idea what she wanted from him, and as it turned out, he was right. The Transfiguration teacher took him to the castle's west wing to show him where Sirius would live and work.

It wasn't as if the west wing was a deserted part of the castle; it contained Professor Quibster's classroom, students had to pass through it on their way to Professor Sinistra's Astrology Tower, and if Harry's sense of direction was right, Snape's dungeon was right underneath the west wing. The part of the building contained a number of classrooms, though most of them were unused. Some of the closed doors they passed were labelled 'Danger!' or even 'Abyss!,' while a faint hodgepodge of music was trickling through another door. Harry was curious to see the laboratory Sirius had talked of. As he rushed along to keep up with Professor McGonagall's rapid steps, he tried to imagine what a Spellsearcher's laboratory looked like. It could not contain cauldrons, retorts or Petri dishes, because Sirius would not try to find a counter-curse for Icy Fingers by any method resembling potion making, would he? Harry tried to imagine some strange machines or exotic magical devices, but could not think of any that would be needed for a Spellsearcher's task. How did you find a spell or a curse, for that matter? Of course, he would find out very soon, Harry thought as Professor McGonagall tapped her wand against the keyhole of a door to open the Sealing spell.

The Spellsearchers' laboratory was a spacious room; its large windows would catch plenty of light during the day and now looked upon a glorious purple and orange sunset. In the twilight of the room, Harry could make out a man sitting at a table. Otherwise, the laboratory did not seem to hold many things.

"Lumos," Sirius' voice said, and a small magical lamp on the table lit up. Harry could see that besides the man and the table, there was absolutely nothing in the Spellsearcher's laboratory. He smiled in welcome when he saw Harry and Professor McGonagall.

"I think Harry should know where to find you, Sirius," the Transfiguration teacher said. "You've had so little chance to see each other, and...." To Harry's surprise, she actually blushed and looked at her feet.

"That's very kind of you, Minerva," Sirius replied with a warm voice. "I'd be glad if Harry found the time to visit me here every now and then."

"Of course I will," Harry said and took a few steps until he stood directly at Sirius' side. "I'll come and see you every day!" Quidditch practice, something said in the back of his head. You should be at Quidditch practice now. Angelina will be fuming. Harry told the voice to be quiet. They had already scored two spectacular wins this season, and would not play Ravenclaw for ages. Ravenclaw...

"I'm sure you are due in practice now, Harry? Because you can always come and visit me later or on the weekend," Sirius said. It made Harry smile; he realised that Sirius must know about Quidditch, that he must understand how important it was to be down at the pitch with your team at practice time.

"I just wanted to show you the way to the laboratory," Professor McGonagall told him. "To break the Sealing Spell, tap your wand at the keyhole - twice just above it, once underneath it, and twice at its left side." Harry nodded to show her he had understood and would remember her instructions. With a promise to return with Ron after practice, he left.

Quidditch practice on a November night was not something Harry would have called a pleasure. The scarcely lit pitch was rainy and muddy, and both Ron and Harry were exhausted and rather damp when they returned to Sirius' rooms. After he had magically opened the door in the way Professor McGonagall had shown him, Harry felt his jaw drop: Instead of the room he had left about two hours earlier, Ron and he were looking into a large dome of swirling green and yellow lights. In the middle of it, underneath an arch of silvery shooting stars, sat Sirius, Dumbledore and Remus Lupin on an odd assortment of chairs. When he saw Harry and Ron, Sirius clapped his hands and shouted: "Losevo!" The dome of light faded and went out like a candle. Sirius relit the little lamp on his table. Now Harry and Ron looked into the almost empty room Harry had seen before. They went over to the three men and exchanged greetings with them. However, it was obvious that Sirius, Dumbledore and Lupin had other things to discuss. Harry and Ron quietly sat down on a bench in the corner and listened to their conversation.

"I am glad to see you have not lost your skill in the past fourteen years," Dumbledore said to Sirius with a content look on his face. Harry's godfather shook his head.

"You know that conjuring up the Atmoglisa Magica is only the very first prerequisite for Spellsearching. I may not remember the rest of my craft just as well."

"I have brought you something which might be useful to you, Sirius," Lupin said and reached into a small crate that stood at his feet. He pulled out a worn, leather-bound book and placed it into Sirius' hand. Harry's godfather looked at the volume for a moment and ran a finger over its cracked leather cover. Then he opened it and flipped through the pages, stopping here and there for a few moments to read. Over his shoulder, Harry could see that the book must be some kind of diary or log, because its pages were covered with several kinds of handwriting.

"It's our old research log," Sirius said hoarsely. He touched the pages and smiled very faintly, then went over to Harry and carefully gave him the book as if he was handing over a delicate treasure. "It's the log your parents and I kept in our Spellsearching days." Then he turned to Lupin. "Where on earth did you find this?"

"Actually, Arthur Weasley stole it for me out of the Ministry's archives. It has been buried there in a corner of the cellar for all these years. Apparently, nobody ever saw the necessity to consult it, so Arthur Weasley said he didn't think it would be missed."

The log was heavy in Harry's hand. By flipping through the pages, Harry could tell that about three-quarters of the pages were covered by hand-written log entries; the rest remained empty. Ron was looking over his shoulder now, curious and obviously not taken aback in the least by the information that his father had stolen a historical document out of the Ministry's cellar. Harry opened the book at the very beginning, eager to read what his parents had written. The first page was covered in neat, straight letters that looked almost like they were printed.

>>Dec. 17^th, 1978

Sirius Black, Lily Evans and I (James Potter) started research on a counter curse for Icy Fingers today. Albus Dumbledore and Gilbert Wimple discussed the task with us and gave us the information they have on the curse, which is relatively little. Icy Fingers is the curse of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Which words or spell are needed to work the curse nobody can tell us, and it's not like the Aurors ever caught a living Death Eater to interrogate. We will have to find out all these things for ourselves before we can start looking for a way to counter the curse.

Icy Fingers is a curse which causes wizards to take harm or die of cold. At the same time it paralyses them magically as well as physically; those attacked cannot properly defend themselves. The only thing that has been used successfully against it is a standard Hex-Reflex. This way of countering is not without its flaws, though: Hex-Reflex demands a great magical strength and, how Dumbledore termed it, 'a strong determination to do battle magic.' However, strength and determination are severely diminished by an Icy Fingers attack. Consequently, those attacked by the curse are those least able to counter it. For this reason, Icy Fingers is a means to attack and harm large groups of wizards who would normally be able to defend themselves even against packs of Death Eaters.<<

The next entry was done in a generous, loopy hand that somehow looked more like a flowery decoration than like writing, but at the same time was perfectly legible.

>>Icy Fingers has so far claimed 27 victims. The worst attack was the one against Hogwarts on the 29^th of September this year. Eight students and the Defence Against the Dark teacher, Professor Carenta, died; Dumbledore was severely hurt and did not recover until last week, if indeed he has recovered. Other attacks on the Ministry and on private homes have killed several witches and wizards who were considered to be very powerful. There are rumours that the curse affects the strong worse than the weak, or at least that its paralysing cold is worse if powerful witches or wizard are among the victims. Is the curse fed by the power of its victims?<<

>>Very good question, Lily. Let me add: If so, is the curse a means for the Death Eaters to take control of their victims' magical power?<<

The last line was done in the scrawl that Harry recognized as Sirius' handwriting. He cast a look at his godfather, who was wrapped up in conversation with Lupin and Dumbledore. As if he felt Harry's gaze, Sirius looked up at him and nodded, maybe to tell Harry to go ahead and read his parents' old research log.

Seeing that the next pages were mostly covered with spell formulas and calculations that looked suspiciously like Arithmancy, Harry flipped through part of the book quite superficially. Lily, James and Sirius had used the log as a means of communication as well as keeping it as a record of their work. Many times one of them had commented on an entry of another, or asked a question at the end of his or her entry. The other two had then tried to answer the question. However, at first the three Spellsearchers had apparently not gotten very many results. Looking at the dates of the entries, Harry saw that throughout all the spring of 1979, the three of them had systematically tried various spells and hexes, but had not come any nearer to finding out how Icy Fingers worked, let alone how it could be countered. On May the 3^rd, he found an entry that was far more interesting than unintelligible formulas, however. Sirius had written:

>>I need to write a few cheering words to lighten up this dreary log. Among the humdrum days in this laboratory, your wedding was a truly great event. Now that it's back to the failures of Arithmancy and spell work, thinking of the party, the many guests and of course of the charming and gorgeous couple joined in matrimony, gives me new energy. Let's get this over with now, so we can save the world as quickly as possible, and you two finally find the time to go on a proper honeymoon. Lots of luck, and may your love light the way for all of us!<<

Underneath, James had printed:

>>Glad you finally got over your hangover, Sirius. Don't worry, as soon as we've solved this icy puzzle, we will go on a honeymoon and - - - -<<

The last few words had been made illegible by a determined hand. Lily's loopy handwriting commented:

>>James! Shame on you! Such language in a scientific document!<<

Harry tried to imagine his parents working with Sirius in a laboratory every day, looking for a way to block the deadly curse, even postponing their honeymoon until after they had finished their work. That time had never come, he knew. They had gone on and on with their work until they had to go into hiding. Sirius had talked about Lily reading numerous books on Spellsearching even with her baby son at her breast (this thought felt quite strange to Harry), while James and Sirius had continued their laboratory work.

A few pages later, James had written:

>>July 6^th

It looks like we have a chance to solve this puzzle now. Dumbledore has a spy among the Death Eaters, someone we all know well (eugh!). For the sake of safety, we are asked to assign a code name to this person in every written document. The informant, who henceforth will be known as the Git in our notes, has worked the curse himself (probably murdering hundreds of people with it). He condescended to tell us that it is worked by the command 'Glaciera.' It is a difficult curse; several Death Eaters must combine their powers for an attack. According to his information (which may or may not be correct, because we cannot consider the Git to be even averagely intelligent), the attackers neither control nor absorb their victims' powers. Therefore it is interesting to know what happens to the magical powers of victims who find out the curse leaves them without any resources to defend themselves. (The Git does not know, naturally.)

Tomorrow the Git (who may or may not be a double agent - I am surprised that Dumbledore trusts him) will teach us how to work Icy Fingers on a curse model basis. However despicable, he will probably bring about the breakthrough we all have been hoping for - if he does not find some crooked way to betray us all.<<

"I think the Git is Snape," Harry whispered to Ron. "He used to be Dumbledore's spy among the Death Eaters, and my parents and Sirius really seem to hate their informant."

"You are right, Harry, we did not like him very much," Sirius said over his shoulder. Then, prompted by a sharp look from Dumbledore, he conceded: "His information was very helpful to us at that time, of course."

"He will be helpful to you again," the headmaster told Sirius in a firm voice. "Icy Fingers is a matter of life and death again. It is not tolerable that you let your work be impeded by a personal antipathy. Severus Snape has been loyal to me and to Hogwarts for many years now. It is my explicit wish that you start cooperating, and that includes not calling him the Git anymore. Actually I am surprised that he is not here yet. I asked him, Minerva and Varlerta to come here tonight, so we can plan our further proceedings."

Sirius reached for the log, and Harry handed it back to him. He watched his godfather bury his attention in the book, maybe to block out Dumbledore's chiding. Sirius seemed to read pages at random as if skipping through time. Harry noticed that the room had gone silent. All of them watched the dark-haired wizard run his fingers over the handwriting of his dead friends, his face as immobile as a mask.

The knock on the door startled all of them, even though they had been expecting it. Professor McGonagall welcomed Lupin back to Hogwarts immediately after entering, while Professor Varlerta looked around the room in wonder, maybe trying to find out what devices made this bare place a laboratory. Snape's bluish hair rapidly turned toad green when he saw Sirius and Lupin; he cast a hateful glance at Harry and Ron. Sirius fought to keep a straight face very briefly, but then he laughed out loud. Even Lupin could not conceal a chuckle.

"Nice colour, Snape," Sirius commented. "Since when have you become that fashionable?"

"Let's just stick to business, Black," Snape snarled. "If you and your silly friends had not spent your time messing around so much, we could have solved this problem fifteen years ago."

Sirius went red with anger. He tried to rise from his chair, but Lupin restrained him.

"Sirius! Severus! Stop this at once!" The commanding voice was Professor McGonagall's. "It makes me ashamed to see you haven't matured after all these years. This is not the time and place for your pranks and personal dislikes. Nor is Icy Fingers part of a House Cup competition."

"You can't possibly mean the competitive house system of this school impedes students' abilities for teamwork, Minerva," Professor Varlerta commented dryly. Ron chuckled behind his hand, but the other adults did not take her up on her challenge of Hogwarts' educational philosophy.

Professor Dumbledore raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "The reason I asked you to come here - that is, those of you whom I have asked, because Ron and Harry have come without invitation -" A twinkle of his eyes told Harry and Ron that he did not mind them there.

"The reason, in short, is that I believe we have a chance to finally solve this old puzzle if we all work together. What we need is a reliable counter curse for Icy Fingers, preferably one that blocks the curse completely. All of us have some special talent that may prove to be crucial to our task. Sirius has worked on this problem many years ago and tells me he was once close to finding a counter curse. Remus has never worked as a Spellsearcher, but is experienced in fighting curses and will receive training from Sirius. Moreover, being without further duties, both wizards will have more time to devote themselves to the task ahead than Hogwarts staff members." Harry saw Snape sneer at Sirius and Lupin when Dumbledore hinted at their lack of employment. While Lupin looked at his feet, Sirius' returned Snape's gaze with an air of defiant challenge. Dumbledore resumed:

"Severus not only knows how to work the curse himself, but his duelling experience has also taught him many things about curse countering. Together with Minerva and me, he successfully worked a Hex-Reflex that caused the attacking Death Eaters to flee on Halloween." Snape pretended not to notice that Dumbledore was talking about him; he nestled at his left sleeve, his gaze focussed on something far away.

"Minerva and I can offer this team not much more than our decades of experience and our assistance in your experiments. Spellsearching is not among our crafts. Neither is Varlerta a Spellsearcher, and her Shielding and Strengthening methods are quite general means of protection. For Icy Fingers we need a more specific counter-curse. However, Varlerta has experimented with magic for many years. Even though her methods may be considered unorthodox by some, her research on audio magic has wielded some remarkable results. Maybe we all need to think along crooked rather than straight lines for this task."

"I hope we can all fulfil your expectations, Dumbledore," Lupin said with a rueful smile. "I've never had any proper training as a Spellsearcher and would not like to slow down the experts with my ignorance as well as with my - er - lunar cycles."

"Oh, Remus," Professor McGonagall said and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I know you are a talented and thorough worker, and I believe you will do quite nicely. So will everybody else in this room, if we all cooperate," she continued in a very firm voice.

"I will prepare a demonstration of the work we did fourteen years ago for tomorrow night," Sirius replied, ignoring Snape's sneer. "I was afraid I forgot too much, but of course the log will be a great help. Arthur Weasley should get an Order of Merlin for stealing it. Remus, I'll also start teaching you how to conjure up an Atmoglisa Magica, which is the basic instrument in a Spellsearcher's laboratory, and...."

"Oh, I've heard of those," Professor Varlerta interrupted him, her face animated with interest. She shifted on her chair to look Harry's godfather in the face. "I'd really like to see how they are done. Can I come, too?"

Sirius absentmindedly turned the pages of the log in his hand without looking at them. "Actually, the Atmoglisa Magica is a Spellsearcher's secret protected by a law. I'm not really supposed to show you."

"For someone who's wanted dead or alive you're quite picky when it comes to breaking laws, don't you think?" she said, curling her upper lip very slightly. "It would be helpful to know about it if I am to assist you in your task."

Sirius shrugged, then turned to Dumbledore with a question in his eyes. The old headmaster thoughtfully tugged at his long, white beard. "I don't see how it could do any harm. You three can meet early in the evening. The rest of us will come around at eight for your demonstration, Sirius." He rose from his armchair, leaning heavily on its back for an instant. "Old men are supposed to be insomniacs, but I find I need more sleep the older I get, not to mention more food. I suppose I will leave you young people to your merry chatter now."

Professor McGonagall and Snape rose and left with the headmaster, maybe because they did not want to be counted among the merrily chatting young people. Lupin introduced himself to Professor Varlerta as a predecessor of her, and soon they were involved in a conversation about teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Varlerta did not seem to be perfectly up to date about Kappas and was visibly delighted she could complete her knowledge with Lupin's help.

Harry held the research log of his parents in his hands once more, then returned it to his godfather. "You can take it when I'm done with it," Sirius told him, while Ron was breathing through his nose to suppress a yawn. "Let me just copy the important things out of it, and after that it will be yours. If I look at the pages, it's as if your parents were sitting next door and were going to come in to talk to me any minute. The log will tell you more about them than a hundred photographs."