The Centaur's Shrine

Chapter 3 - Back in London

Hogwarts,

Morning arrived with the usual end of term chaos of students rushing to pack last minute items in their luggage, chasing lost rats or escapee toads, and salvaging hurried breakfasts. The prefects were the busiest of all, as their job was to make sure that everyone was ready, and that nothing valuable or dangerous was left in the dormitories. This year, no students would be staying over the holidays.

When everything had been checked, and after everyone had been assembled in the courtyard, they were brought down to the Hogsmeade train station, where the big Red Hogwarts Express engine was blowing an impressive cloud of steam. The rolls were called one last time, and the students allowed to board. Finally, an exhausted Ron dropped in his seat next to his friend. Harry was in excellent spirits. He had been happily watching them run right and left with no remorse whatsoever, all the while taking the time to appreciate a leisurely morning tea, and making pleasant light conversation with Ginny and Luna.

Hermione was just as tired but she struggled to maintain the dignified posture she felt was expected of a responsible prefect. Alone among those with such duties, Draco seemed unfazed. He had given clear and precise instructions, delegated a maximum of tasks to his deputies and stepped back to watch House Slytherin march on like a well trained army. Hermione had been impressed, and Ron disgusted. To make things worse, they had even been the target of mordant Slytherin ribbing about the characteristic Gryffindor indiscipline.

Ron had turned toward Harry for moral support, but all his friend could manage was not to burst out in mirth, although his lips kept twitching. Even Luna had laughed at him.

"I swear, I'm going to ask Dumbledore to make you a prefect," said Ron. "I'm giving you my badge, and we'll see how you manage next time."

"Really Ron, I think you're doing just fine," replied Harry with a straight face. "I wouldn't dream of taking your job away."

Hermione was outraged.

"Ron! How can you say a thing like that? Being a prefect is an honor, not just some kind of trophy you can trade away."

Ron's only response was a muttered rude remark. He looked at Draco who hadn't taken part in their conversation. He seemed lost in thought and almost brooding. Ginny threw him a puzzled glance, but she decided to give him a chance to come out of his mood by himself.

"Relax, it almost over," she said instead, turning toward her brother. "In five hours, all you'll have to think about is how to spend two weeks of complete vacation. We don't even have any homework to do."

"Hey, that's right," he said brightening. "We have to think how we're going to celebrate. Maybe we could go to a nice restaurant or something."

"Food is never far from your mind isn't it?" said Hermione, shaking her head in disappointment. "Show me that card of yours again. I bet they pictured you with a sandwich in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other."

"It's not such a bad idea," refuted Harry. "I've never gone out to a really classy place, and if there's ever been an occasion for that, it's now."

"We could dress up and everything," added Luna joining in.

Ginny agreed. Draco still seemed uninterested, until she prodded him to participate. He finally consented to remember some addresses, including a few which didn't cater specifically to the rich pure blood crowd.

Thinking about London made him suddenly remember something, and he caught Harry's eyes.

"Yes, we could go shopping tomorrow for clothes ... and other supplies."

Harry hid a half smile and nodded. He had checked the list of ingredients needed for Snape's recipes. They would need some special stuff, all right. Ron and Ginny showed their usual embarrassment at the mention of expensive purchases. The twin's bank account was still available, but it wouldn't go very far. Draco scowled in exasperation at them.

"Stop making those faces. First of all, I'm warning you that I'm not going to be as patient as Harry about your money hang ups. We're blood brothers now, and if we need to pay for something as trivial as clothes, you're bloody well going to accept our Galleons."

Ron frowned stubbornly.

"Well maybe that's so, but you don't have to throw it in our faces," he growled. Even Ginny looked hurt. She would have said something scathing herself, but she had the feeling that something was bothering him.

"Second," continued Draco with a smirk, "with the reputation we've got, I'll bet you my broom that we'll get some once in a lifetime rebates from most shops, if they accept our money at all."

"I wonder if we should agree to-" started Hermione. Ron interrupted her.

"Man that'll be brilliant. I can't wait to visit that Quidditch supply stores."

Hermione began to scowl even more. Harry caught her eyes.

"Don't fret about it Mione. We'll be reasonable. What do you say? Diagon Alley tomorrow?"

She nodded, and they all agreed. Soon they were all grinning in anticipation, and discussing what else they would like to do during their vacation.

- - -

In another part of the train, three first years had finally secured a compartment to themselves. Alicia locked the door and pulled down the curtains, then Richard extracted a sealed envelop from his cloak. One corner showed a small tear.

"Did you look at it?" asked Alicia.

"Er... I tried last night but I couldn't open it," replied Richard. The two girls shot him angry glances. "It was just to make sure there wasn't any mistake," he added defensively.

"Next time I'll keep the stuff," said Alicia coldly, "and my promises as well."

"Look," he protested. "I hadn't made any promises, and nothing happened actually, so let off me."

She glared at him.

"When you two are finished bickering, maybe we can open it?" asked Silena who hadn't said anything yet.

Brother and sister looked at her then at each other.

"Okay."

Alicia took the letter and broke the seal. Inside they found a blank piece of paper. She turned it over to check the other side, but nothing was visible on it.

"Blimey! It's another one of their jokes. We should have known better than to trust them," she said, disgusted.

Richard was perplexed. He examined the paper closely.

"I don't think so. They wouldn't have gone to all that trouble just for a stupid joke."

"Maybe it's written in invisible ink or something," proposed Silena.

Richard nodded. He took out his wand and tried to remember the proper spell.

"Hum, Conspicuus!"

Lines appeared on the paper. They formed an empty rectangular border frame with a larger wriggly rectangle outside it, and some deformed letters underneath.

"What does it say?" asked Alicia.

"EGASTSEDOM," replied Silena. "But the letters are wrong."

"It's a riddle," declared Richard pensively after a moment.

"Brilliant deduction Dick. Now I know why you were sorted in Ravenclaw," said Alicia sarcastically.

"It's Slytherin, and there's no need for smart assed remarks. I was only thinking out loud. If you're so sure of yourself, can you tell me what you think the letters stand for?"

Alicia looked pained.

"Well it could be the name of a spell or a place." Richard snorted in derision.

"It says MODESTSAGE when you look at it in reverse," he affirmed, "and the space character is probably missing so it should read MODEST SAGE. That's the riddle I'm talking about."

Brother and sister glared at each other for a moment.

The little smart alec is right, again, she thought, disgusted.

"Do you always fight when you're together?" asked Silena in exasperation. "I thought that we were going to have an adventure, but if you keep on like that all the time, it's not going to be much fun."

They looked at her again.

"Okay," said Alicia finally. "Let's try and solve the riddle."

They turned their attention toward the piece of paper.

"The frame looks a little like a stamp. Anybody got an idea?" asked Richard after a moment.

None of the girls had any. They tried for a moment and finally decided that they would make a copy of the drawing, so that Silena could have one during the vacation.

"We probably have to match this to some object in Hogwarts," said Alicia. "In that case, we won't be able to solve it before coming back. I'll look into Hogwarts - A history anyway."

At that point the food trolley passed by their compartement, and the three children lost interest in the drawing. They bought a selection of sweets and talked about other things. Silena was very interested in what life in Muggle families was like. From what her parents had told her over the years she imagined lives of drudgery and poverty, but instead the Parkers told her of fascinating objects which seemed to her to be just as magical as what she knew.

"Where are you going to stay during Christmas?" asked Alicia after a while.

"I'll be with my brother and the others, at that house they all live in."

"You mean the Six live in the same house? Have you been there already?" Richard's voice was wistful. He was already extremely impressed with Draco as head student of Slytherin, and Harry Potter and his friends were heroes, but to think that they all lived in the same house and that Silena would be going there, that was something else again.

"Do you think we could get invited?" asked Alicia hopefully.

Silena smiled. As the smallest and youngest student, if she could call herself that, since it hadn't been confirmed that she could stay at Hogwarts, she hadn't counted for much up to now, but now it seemed that she had something others might want.

"Well, I guess I could ask."

"Please do. Hey, maybe you might want to come to our house a couple of days, and then we could maybe like, reciprocate," he said.

Silena tilted her head and thought about it. She'd like that.

"All right. I'll do it."

"Yes!" Richard wrote a string of numbers on a piece of paper. "Here. This is where to join us."

"What is it?" Silena had never seen a telephone number and she had no idea whatsoever on how it could be used.

"It's our phone number. You just dial it and ... Oh I get it, there's no phone in your house perhaps?"

"I don't know. What's a fone?"

"Hum." He thought about it for a second. "Listen, Hermione Granger has been raised as a Muggle like us, so she should know what to do. You just give her this. Ok?"

"All right." She was dubious, but trusting. She reflected a moment.

"Maybe I could ask also ask her about the riddle?"

The other two looked at each other. Richard shook his head.

"No. She's a pretty smart, but she's prefect and a stickler for rules. She'd catch us and ruin everything."

- - -

Ministry of Magic,

Cornelius Fudge was deep in thought, sitting at the imposing desk of his suite sized office. The Ministry of Magic was normally a hive of multiple activities, but these days it was truly hellish. The expensive carpet on the floor was littered with debris of Howlers protesting or demanding actions, most of the time that he be sacked as Minister.

Several times, he'd asked for an Auror to cast a silencing charm, so that he could escape the screaming voices. For some reason, the spells didn't work very well, and now his head was ringing like a bell. Then he'd given orders to filter all incoming mail, or at least to have it diverted to a special location, but of course nobody wanted that job. They were all claiming to be busy with any number of other missions. Finally, he managed to have his office effectively warded. Things were a little calmer now, at least for him.

The Minister looked at the painting of his predecessor, a portly wizard sleeping against his picture frame, with cotton wool stuffed into his ears, and he decided it was time for some internal damage control.

He activated the miniature floo terminal on his desk, and the tired face of his secretary appeared.

"Oh Marge, is young Weasley in yet?" he asked. "And by the way, can you remind me what his first name is by the way?"

"It's Percival sir, and-"

The conversation was interrupted by a zipping sound followed by the characteristic sound of shredding paper. Marge's eyes opened wide in alarm as red bits of envelope suddenly flew across her face, accompanied by a terribly loud voice.

"HOW IN MERLIN'S NAME CAN SUCH INCOMPETENCE..."

Fudge inactivated the floo terminal immediately. He slowly counted to ten, and re-opened the connection. When Marge's face reappeared, it was markedly more disheveled than before, and some red tatters were still in her hair.

"Humph. Sorry about that," he said, forcing a compassionate smile. He gestured to his face, and she quickly brushed a shred of paper from her eyebrow.

"Yes he's in his office sir. He got in just ten minutes ago." Her tone of voice conveyed her disapproval that a civil servant should be so late to work. "Shall I tell him you want to see him?"

"No don't bother. I'll go down there myself. Thank you Marge."

He got a miffed snort in response. The idea that the Minister of Magic should abase himself to visit a junior member, instead of having him convoked, shocked Miss Marge Pennywrinkle profoundly. What were things coming to?

Fudge actually felt the same way, but he feared that after what happened, young Weasley might well push his rebellion so far as refusing to obey a direct order, or at least delaying it. This would diminish his authority further, and right now he needed all he had. Let's not take any chances.

Several people were starting to maneuver against him, and it was vital to neutralize them. Splitting the Weasley clan should be possible, and it would certainly help secure his position. Despite the challenge, Cornelius Fudge was content, almost joyful. Bureaucratic infighting was so much more his cup of tea than dealing with You-Know-Whats, Death Eaters and other menaces.

He opened his door and ducked as two stray Howlers whizzed over his head. He quickly stepped out, closed the door, and stepped away. He heard muffed screams behind the panel and smiled. Gotcha.

Walking briskly toward the end of the corridor, he took the elevator to get down to the junior staff level. As the doors of the lift closed he saw another Howler desperately flying toward him. He closed his eyes and the doors slammed shut just in time. All he heard was the soft 'tock' of the paper missile hitting steel, immediately followed by a muted roar.

"YOU DESERVE TO BE LEFT TO ROT ON..."

He sighed. It was going to be like that for at least a week.

As he approached Percy's office he noticed that the door was open. He showed his head in and knocked smartly.

"Good morning, young Weasley. May I come in?"

Percy Weasley was slumped in his chair. He was certainly not working even though there was a neat pile of folders filling his IN basket. He looked at the Minister and, despite himself, sat up to a more respectful posture.

"Er, yes! ... Good morning sir," he said. His expression was guarded however.

Fudge came in and made no comment. Mustn't scare the fish away, he thought.

"These are trying times you know," he started, making a show of sighing deeply. "But I am glad that this crisis is now behind us."

Percy couldn't believe his ears. He started to protest but all he could manage was to open his mouth. He was so outraged that he couldn't decide on what to say first.

Fudge displayed his best benevolent look and didn't give him a chance to recover.

"I know," he said, raising his hand. "I know that you are sorry that you have been a little angry with me, young Weasley. There's no need to apologize, I understand all too well what you've been going through."

Percy started to make sputtering sounds. Fudge ignored it.

"These responsibilities of ours are very taxing Percival - you don't mind if I call you Percival do you?" Percy closed his mouth and tried to stand up. He banged his knee painfully against his desk, and fell back in his chair.

"Please, please stay seated. It's quite all right. What was I saying?" He screwed his eyes shut and massaged his temples slowly. The very picture of a man tortured by a relentless headache. "Those damn Howlers. Yes. We've all had to take some very hard decisions these last days, especially myself."

He opened his eyes and looked Percy straight in the face.

"You understand what I had to do now, don't you?"

Percy shook his head slowly, looking confused.

"And it worked." Fudge raised his finger in the air. "Thanks Merlin. Everyone played their parts, and it worked. We defeated You-know-who." He smiled.

It was too much. Percy got himself under control and stood up.

"You! You abandoned us!" he cried.

Fudge discarded his benevolent attitude and turned a severe face toward Percy.

"No I didn't. On the contrary, you abandoned me!"

Percy started sputtering again.

"B-but ..."

Fudge cut him off.

"I knew Hogwarts was well defended, and I was right. I knew that if we didn't protect the rest of the wizard community, there would be a massacre, and I acted to prevent that. I made my decision and it turned out right, Percival. We won!"

"H-Harry ..." croaked Percy.

Fudge shrugged and waived his hand dismissively.

"Harry was Dumbledore's tool to invoke the defenses prepared by the Hogwarts Founders. You don't think that the school wasn't perfectly protected from the likes of You-Know-Who?" He gestured airily. "But Dumbledore is always anxious about everything, and I continuously have to reassure him."

He opened his arms to encompass the room.

"The facts are there for all to see. The Ministry took a firm decision and the menace is gone." He paused, all the while looking at Percy. He could see that he had planted the tiniest of doubts in the boy's mind. The fish bit. Now to plant the hook deeper.

He walked toward the desk, under the apprehensive gaze of the younger wizard, and softly banged his fist on the table.

"I - was - right - Percival."

Percy looked at him for a moment without saying anything. Fudge counted to ten and then he knew he had won. The hook is in. Now I test the line.

He continued, this time using his usual forceful, Minister of Magic voice.

"But my work is not done, and I'm very sorry to see that some among my staff are trying to sabotage our efforts."

He saw Percy give a start and frown. No matter what he might actually think about Fudge, sabotage was not a word that Percival Weasley liked to hear.

"Yes Mister Weasley," continued Fudge. He noticed the hurt in the boy's face at not being called by his first name anymore. First names are for friends and loyal servants, young Weasley. They are for those who choose wisely whom they serve.

"Some would like to replace me, and thus to weaken the Ministry." He stood up and walked away from Percy's desk, letting his body language express disappointment. "And I am worried that you may be one of them."

He paused, seemingly lost in sad reflections, but discretely looking at the young man behind his half closed eyelids.

"It's really a shame. You showed such promises at first. A man like me needs talented, loyal, people around him, groomed to fill in the important functions that must be held."

He started to walk toward the door.

"Sir!" cried Percy before the Minister could leave.

"Yes?" he replied absently, his mind evidently moving toward other, important matters.

Percy swallowed.

"Please forgive me sir, but it was such a shock, finding that my sister ..."

"But of course my dear boy. I told you I understood. The past is but the past and we need to look at the present... and toward the future." Time to reel the catch in and hope that the line holds.

"I'll not let you down sir." He grimaced. "But I can't go against my family..." He looked torn between conflicting duties.

The line is not a solid as I thought, and the fish is not as big. Still, half a cauldron is better that no potion at all, and a pawn is better than nothing.

Fudge gave him his best smile.

"I wouldn't want that for the life of me, my dear boy. I understand the complications. Can I count on you to be sympathetic, and perhaps to defend my position?"

Percy felt much better, and it showed.

"Yes sir! I will do my best."

"That will be fine then, Percival. I knew I could count on you." But not as much as I hoped.

"Good day sir," Percy said with evident relief.

"Good day, Percival."

Fudge left quickly before he could show his disappointment.

All in all, this is not too bad. He was mollified, and others should be as well. I might as well use the same story again. If enough of them can believe it, maybe even I will.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a moving red speck, and hurried toward the elevators. This time the Howler managed to enter the lift. Fudge's trip back up to his office was very unpleasant.

- - -

Arthur Weasley was contently seated in his office. There had been no Howlers for him, and in fact a number of colleagues had come in to express their congratulations. He heard the soft whisper of a flying memo, and saw a paper airplane land on his desk and unfold gracefully. It was a note from Fudge calling upon several of them to accompany him at the train station to welcome the students coming back.

Yes, Albus told me he would send them home early. The kids will certainly appreciate a long vacation, and it'll be nice to have the whole family at the Burrow.

He read the note and noticed something unusual in the list of recipients. Many names weren't members of the Ministry at all.

...

Rita Skeeters - Daily Prophet

Junior League of Druidic Witches and Wizards

Wizengamot committee

Witches Weekly

...

Then the content mentioned something about the Ministry organizing a press conference, at the train station, with the newly distinguished students.

Merlin! He's going to turn this into a circus.

Arthur debated on his options. There was no way that he would be able to stop this, but at the very least, he could limit the damage. He stood up and passed his head into the corridor.

"Kingsley! Can you spare a minute?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt emerged from his office. A copy of the same memo was dangling from his fingers.

"I see you've read it too. Shall we start planning the rescue party?" he asked, smiling.

Arthur chuckled. Kingsley hadn't been on the list, but he had a reputation for staying ahead of most situations. And he's right, what the kids will need is a bloody rescue party.

- - -

London,

With a loud scream from the steam whistle, the Hogwarts Express arrived in King's Cross Station, London. Harry didn't expect the Dursleys to be there of course. In fact, he didn't plan to see them again for the rest of life, but the Weasleys would be present and of course most of the children's parents. He figured that there would probably also be one or two representative of the Ministry as well. All in all, he thought it would be a little more crowed than usual.

It was pure pandemonium.

There was such a crowd that they were sure that the entire wizard population of London must be there. Platform 9 ¾ had been magically enlarged and it now looked to be wider than long. Thousands of witches and wizards were cheering on the students as they debarked. The Six were immediately pounced upon and carried in triumph, surrounded by signs decorated with their names, blown ups of their chocolate frog cards, the Hogwarts crest, and various written expressions of thanks and congratulations.

"THE-BOYS-AND-GIRLS-WHO-WON!"

"WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS HEROS!"

"THANK YOU!"

Everybody was yelling, reaching out to shake their hand, asking for autographs, and for some, trying to get bits of their clothing for souvenir.

"Mister Potter, let me thank you!"

"Will you sign your card for me please?"

Hermione saw her parents desperately trying to reach her, but unable to get close. They waved to each other frantically.

"Are you Miss Granger? Wonderful to meet you!"

Draco was suddenly aware that Silena was not with him. He looked around anxiously, and for an instant he could just make her out, sticking closely to the Parker children as they were being collected by a tall blonde woman.

It was impossible to move, or even to speak to each other. Countless strangers seemed intent on touching them, say something inaudible or simply express their happiness and gratitude. The first few minutes were euphoric but after a while they became alarmed that it would never stop. Thankfully, Arthur arrived with the Ministry security service, and they were finally allowed to escape to a restricted part of the station. Hermione's father gestured to signal that he would try to get inside via another entrance.

When the door closed, they stood there, panting, with their hair disheveled and their cloaks and tunics in shreds. The escort Aurors were laughing themselves silly, but they had the grace to cast several Reparo spells to return their clothing to normal. Draco asked one of them to try and recover his sister.

"Maybe we should wait a little before planning a little trip in town?" proposed Hermione.

"Yea, like about a century," answered Ron.

"Do you think there could be a special charm to hold them at bay?" asked Harry, half seriously.

At that point Fudge, and several important looking officials, arrived. All were wearing magnificent robes. Harry winced when he spotted Rita Skeeters, accompanied by no less than three photographers from the Daily Prophet. Luna beamed as she spotted her father with another Quibbler reporter.

"My dear friends. Welcome back to London," intoned the Minister. "Mister Potter, Harry, let me express my most sincere congratulations for what you've done."

Harry's head jumped up angrily, and he was ready to make a scathing reply, but Fudge had prepared for the occasion very well. His little speech was now well rehearsed and he had briefed all the other officials on how to confuse the students as much as possible. Before they could utter a word, Harry and his friends had been congratulated by half a dozen very impressive wizards, photographed for the next edition of the Daily Prophet and invited to more than a dozen social events. In desperation he tried to catch Arthur's attention but Ron's father could only shrug helplessly and suggest patience. Even Draco looked rattled.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger and Molly Weasley were finally permitted to see them. Silena was brought in as well, and they thanked Mrs. Parker for having looked after her. Hermione's parents weren't able to stay long, but she promised them that they would meet together the next day at their hotel.

They were asked to come out again and say a few words. That wasn't too hard, as nobody could hear anything above the din in the station hall. Mainly they waived as the enthusiastic crowd and smiled a lot. Hermione was reminded of some footage of the early Beatles concerts. Pottermania! This is ridiculous. The press conference was called, and it passed in a blur of quick fire questions, mercifully limited to trivial details. Arthur was able to gain them some time by promising a more complete interview in the following days. The final outrage was a series of posed photographs with Fudge and other important officials. By that time, they were too dazzled to protest effectively, and they were ready to accept anything if it could hurry up the end of this masquerade. After the final flash of the cameras illuminated their group, Arthur and the Aurors mercifully led them away, under the screaming cheers of the crowd.

- - -

Somewhere,

The room hadn't changed. The blackened remains of the spider were still stuck to one of the metallic stalks. It was untouched but not for long. A long thin snake was slithering along one of the wall, when it caught a whiff of the insect corpse and stopped. Burned meat was not something it particularly liked, but the day had been poor nourishment wise.

The snake followed the scent and was stopped at the raised surface. It explored the perimeter until it found a broken stone with enough purchase so that it could climb on top, and move closer to its objective. The spider's body was perched too high so that the serpent had to wrap its body around the framework. A few seconds later its mouth opened to bite, when a loud crackling sound was heard...

The flames stabilized into seven single figures.

"We have news," began the first speaker.

"What did you learn?" asked the woman with the rich voice and the beautiful face. The one who had been silent at the beginning of the previous meeting.

"The announcement was true," he said, gesturing toward the orator. "The Hogwarts Headmaster confirmed to the Wizengamot that the six students merged their magic to attain a power greater than ... your unfortunate candidate, Electra."

He couldn't resist the jib, and the youngest wizard started to chuckle. He stopped abruptly when he saw the disapproval on the faces of the others.

"He wasn't just my candidate," replied the witch in a low and cold voice. "I seem to recall that we had all agreed to this plan." The wizard cringed and raised a calming hand. He was already regretting his bravado.

"I thought that our rule was to work together for a common goal," she continued with a hint of menace, transfixing the speaker with a deadly stare. He grimaced in evident pain.

"Or against a common ... enemy," she finished sharply, throwing the word at him like a dart.

A moment of silence passed. The speaker seemed to be recuperating. He knew he had crossed a line. In this company, to be isolated was death, and one did not provoke another without open backing and good reason. The Brotherhood was an alliance, witches and wizards linked together by complex loyalties. They all had talents as well as weaknesses, and the group was greater that any individual.

"I take that back," he said demurely.

The admission was the price of his whim, and it would cost him diminished prestige for a time, in addition to a raging headache. He raged inwardly, but the damage was done.

May these so called Dark Lords be cursed for all eternity! Why do they always seek absolute domination when influence is all that we really need? And their descendants are no better.

The woman called Electra spoke again, but this time her tone made it clear than she was taking charge.

"How did they learn about such magic? Did Dumbledore teach them?" She spat out the word as if it was a foul thing.

"The damnable old man professed to barely understanding the workings of what happened," replied the portly orator, smoothly adjusting to the new balance of power. "It seems that the Potter boy's mother had also dabbled in this art. Professor?" He turned toward the ancient wizard on his left.

"It is plain that they are only just rediscovering the Founders' secrets," he said in his toneless voice. "I can only surmise that when Riddle attacked the boy, he transferred some powers to him, perhaps a part of Salazar's heritage. Maybe this was somehow combined with some of his mother's enchantments."

"The Lovegood girl is rumored to be an Empath as well," added the old witch.

"Interesting," said the third witch. "An accidental combination of factors, and years of planning lie in the dust."

"What can be done against such power?" said the orator.

Electra had been asking herself the same thing. The situation was both more complex and less unfavorable than they'd thought. She was already seeing opportunities.

"They need to be together to wield it," she said after a moment. "They are young, and they have just won a decisive victory. It should make them careless. I think we can manage to find a weakness and exploit it."

The others looked at her and agreed.

"Until then we wait."

Flames engulfed them and the room returned to its previous darkness. There was no trace left of the spider, and only a twisted curl of flesh remained of the hungry serpent.

Back In London Ch3 - 12