Inquiring Minds

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

Knowledge is the antidote to fear.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

Chapter 3: Knowledge is Power

Silence stung at his ears like a swarm of bees and he became acutely aware of the fact that his ears were ringing.

He was sure it wasn't as loud as it sounded to him, but at the same time he was also positive that in the dead silence of the room, everyone could hear them ringing too.

His right fist was still clenched tightly and slightly throbbing. Whether that was because of the punch or because of the fact that he still had it firmly balled up- Draco wasn't sure.

All the Slytherin knew was that he was getting dangerously close to a state of discomfort he wasn't sure he'd be able to tolerate.

Slowly he felt his Head of House gently lead him back to his seat, subtly taking his hand within his own and uncurling his fingers.

The young Malfoy was momentarily shocked by the apparent kindness and care behind such an action, but when he finally began to pay attention to his surroundings he realized that keeping his fists clenched had given him the appearance of a continuous threat.

The half of the Order (even Squib-boy and Loony) that had their wands trained on him glared, and the Headmaster had given him with a look that explained that whole bit about the Dark Lord fearing him.

'Alright, then,' Draco thought to himself, 'Note to self: Don't punch Weasels... much.'

Slowly the teenager leaned back into the seat Severus had led him to and tried to put one of those "innocent" looks on his face.

Apparently that attempt hadn't worked as he heard Blaise's amused snort echo in the large and otherwise eerily silent room.

Draco turned to his cousin, thankful for the distraction, and found that she had returned to her seat, put her wand away, and was at the present quite calmly regarding the Order members whose wands were trained not on him, but on her.

She looked terribly amused, and for the life of him, Malfoy couldn't figure out why.

She leaned back into her chair and intertwined her fingers slowly. Several members of the Order seemed to believe that she was becoming more of a threat than the Malfoy heir was, so they calmly switched their focus points so that nearly three-quarters of the wands in the room were pointing at his cousin's heart.

Alarmed, Draco opened his mouth, but before the Slytherin could even take a breath, his Head of House had silenced him with a look.

It was a look that spoke volumes, and for some reason made the pale-haired boy relax quite a great deal. Apparently Blaise had things under control, or so Severus thought.

Draco, while much more relieved, was not exactly sure of his dear cousin's capabilities.

For someone who had things under control Blaise had, by all appearances, lost her mind. She gazed with a seemingly complete absorption at her fingers as they weaved in and out of each other again and again.

The majority of the Order, who were still on their feet after Draco and Blaise's combined assault of Ron Weasley, eyed her warily.

Unlike Draco, they did not believe that Blaise had lost her mind; they believed she was up to something and while they had all left the confrontation between the three teenagers to the Headmaster and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to handle, they were not about to let the violent girl get away with anything else.

Some were so furious with the girl that their hands even shook as they waited silently for the conniving and dangerous Slytherin to make her move.

Slowly Blaise looked up from her hands. It was the kind of action no one really could gain much information from. Her thoughts and plans were remaining a secret.

Professor Dumbledore, who had been staring at the pondering Slytherin silently, frowned deeply before he made his move on behalf of the Order.

The Headmaster's wand was out.

Blaise smiled brightly.

The Headmaster and the Order members tensed in response to the smiling teen. Furrowed brows scanned every part of her trying to discern exactly what had brought on the unexpected smile.

In one fluid motion Blaise placed her hands on the table before her and hoisted herself into a standing position, her smile still firmly in place. Betraying the expression of happiness on her face she spoke into the silence of the room in a very quiet voice that most obviously expressed terror.

"Professors?" she questioned softly, looking at Lupin and McGonagall, "Headmaster?" she continued with a wide-eyed gaze that under normal circumstances would have inspired sympathy in all those who saw it. "Why do you have your wands out? Please put them away. I'm scared."

Mad-Eye Moody seemed to have had enough of her and the sense of complete and utter bewilderment she was stimulating in himself and the other Order members.

"Listen here, lass, we aren't playing with you. If you and your friend here," he said gruffly, indicating Draco, "lay a finger on one of your wands or even stand too close to anyone else in this room, we won't hesitate to knock you-"

"After all," Blaise interrupted, as though Moody had not said a word. "You all are the Order of the Phoenix." Blaise paused after making this statement and stared around at them with a doe-eyed look of wonder on her face.

"You guys fight the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters every day," the girl said in greatly exaggerated awe as she moved from behind the small table to walk between the chairs on the room until she reached the stone walls of the Headmaster's office.

She ran her right hand along the wall as though transfixed by every crevice and scratch on each stone as she continued to speak, "If you wanted to, you could knock me down in an instant and I would be out of it for weeks... maybe even months."

None in the Order responded to her words they all simply kept their wands trained on her, their arms moving with every step she took around the rectangular room. Draco almost started to laugh at the synchronized movement, but stopped himself when he saw the Headmaster's expression.

The old man's forehead was creased. 'Perhaps he's on to whatever game it is Blaise is playing,' the blonde thought.

"But then, if I was knocked out for weeks and weeks and weeks" Blaise said idly from the corner of the room where she had stopped and was gazing at Dumbledore's phoenix with interest, "you wouldn't know everything the lovely and kind Theodore Nott told me, before he fled. And I know you all want to know more about that."

Several Order members were looking quickly around at each other to see if anyone knew what she was talking about before Blaise continued, "Isn't that right... Headmaster?"

With her wand still trained on Blaise, who was now absently petting the scarlet and gold plumage of Fawkes the Phoenix, Tonks turned to the Headmaster and quietly muttered, "What the bloody hell is she talking about?"

The Headmaster lowered his wand and replaced it in the pocket of his robes. He paused for a moment before he lifted his hand to run slowly down the length of his beard as he thought.

"Well, Nymphadora," the Head of the Order began slowly, "when Harry was discovered earlier this evening outside of the school, immobile and unresponsive, I sent him by Portkey to a secure section of St. Mungo's. But I was not able to immediately accompany him. As there was nothing around Mr. Potter's body that would have appeared to have served as a Portkey to the school, I was curious as to how his body was brought back. My investigation led me, through a few clues and a several rather half-baked theories, to the Slytherin dungeons. I am afraid I wasted a few valuable minutes searching the common room and girl's dormitories, but as the students of the school had all been sent to the Great Hall at the news of Harry's capture by an uncontained threat, I didn't spend as much time as I may have otherwise.

"When I finally arrived in the 6^th year boy's dormitory, I found Ms. Zabini staring in what seemed to be shock at a Mr. Theodore Nott who was yelling at her. Unfortunately my search of the common room and girls dormitories had caused me to miss a great deal of their conversation save for the end, in which he said something that led me to believe that if there was a reason why Harry had not woken through my repeated casting of the Ennervate spell, it would be found only through the examination of Ms. Zabini's memories; specifically those related to Mr. Potter," the Headmaster concluded while staring at Blaise.

Tonks stared at the Headmaster aghast, "But if Nott was right there why didn't you-"

"When I first entered the room, Nymphadora, I did so without a modicum of evidence against Mr. Nott. It was only when he spoke that he incriminated himself and then, most unfortunately, once Theodore finished his last statement, I was summoned to St. Mungo's by the former Headmistress Dilys in a manner and for a reason that simply could not be ignored," said Professor Dumbledore.

"You mean to say," Professor Snape interjected furiously, "that you left Blaise alone with Nott, who said something that led you to believe he was partly responsible for Potter's disappearance, so that you could rush off to the hospital to check up on the precious prince himself?"

The Headmaster shook his head slowly at Snape, "Severus, you must understand that Harry was releasing a great deal of raw, uncontrolled magic for no apparent reason into his ward. Even now, hours later, we still do not know exactly why or how he did it; only that the amount of magic he released in the matter of a few minutes it took to contact me was enough to cause several inhabitants on the Spell Damage floor to fall ill or unconscious. Also, I did not believe at the time that Mr. Nott was going anywhere, he had been in the dormitory with Ms. Zabini for at least five minutes before I had arrived, and she appeared to be in perfectly fine health."

"Wait," Tonks said confused, "you just strolled into the Slytherin Dormitories and watched the two argue for a minute or so, and then popped out without either of them noticing?"

Here Professor Dumbledore scratched at his beard in what looked to be genuine confusion, "There are certain methods a Head of this magnificent school has at his or her disposal to move around the school undetected. To my knowledge, at the time Ms. Zabini and Mr. Nott could not have seen me as I was, by all appearances, never in the dorm to begin with. But as it appears that Ms. Zabini is well aware of the fact that I heard part of their conversation, I was obviously mistaken.

"I wonder," the Headmaster continued with a curious glance at Blaise who was still petting the now dozing Fawkes, "exactly how that is possible."

"More importantly," Professor McGonagall said sternly, "I wish to know every single word Mr. Nott said to Ms. Zabini."

The Order members and Luna and Neville (whose wand arms were beginning to grow quite tired) focused once more on Blaise with narrowed eyes.

Blaise turned in a quick circle around to face her Transfigurations Professor. The Slytherin slowly walked closer and closer to the teacher smiling in a way that seemed unreal as she stepped around chairs to close in on her teacher.

Once the girl was standing directly in front of the teacher, nearly nose to nose and directly going against Moody's earlier warning she opened her mouth.

"What did Nott say to me? You want to know?" the young witch questioned slowly with a smile.

"He said," she began enunciating every word, "You disgusting bitch!"

Though the beginning of her sentence was said in slow docile tones she had yelled the second part into the face of the Deputy Headmistress and Professor Dumbledore's wand had come out once more.

"Miss Zabini," the Headmaster intoned slowly, "it would do you well to remember that your position as a student of this school is not a permanent condition and you should thus act accordingly when speaking to your Professors. Apologize now or risk not only the loss of House points but the possibility of suspension."

"But, Professor," Blaise responded furrowing her brow like a confused child, "that's what he said. And she asked what he said. She wants to know," Blaise said spreading her arms dramatically and comically imitating Professor McGonagall's stern voice, "every single word he said to me. I'm just telling it how it happened."

Before the Headmaster, who looked as though he was beginning to lose his patience, could get a word in, Blaise had already continued her tale.

"So after he yells at me, he grabs my arms and yanks me all close to his face and says, 'You thought I didn't know, but I was there with you all the time! From the very first session, to the very first kiss, every time you were with him, I was with you!'"

Now Blaise really appeared to be completely out of her mind. She was acting out all of Nott's actions with passion and drama. Her arms were moving, her dark hair swinging about her with each step forward or back she took and she was paying absolutely no mind to the dozens of wands following her every movement.

"'In my own way, I was there! Examining everything you were feeling!' he said to me with his angry face in mine. Oh, he was really mad! He pushed me away from him and said, 'What turned me to the Dark Lord?! Why you did, of course! After all of my parents' pestering and all of my resistance because I knew you wouldn't want me to be a Death Eater. For whatever reason you were against the Dark Lord, not openly, but I could tell in the things you did, the way you said things. You didn't want me to be licking the slime off of the Dark Lord's boots, so I didn't. I pushed my ambitions, my dreams, and my plans to the side so that you could be pleased with me. And what did I get in return? I get to see you and Potter together. And then to know that he was touching you, holding you, and caressing you as I had wanted to! As I was supposed to! But once I saw you two together, I saw the potential for disaster, and I took moves from the very beginning to end it before it got too far out of hand!'"

Blaise had begun to make facial expressions to match her vocal impersonations and the entire Order as well as Draco, Luna, and Neville could only watch riveted as she went on.

"Then this was the part," Blaise said turning with a flourish to face Professor Dumbledore, "that you strolled in. Just when Theo the Moron said 'Every time you were with him, Blaise, so was I and I was working my magic from the very beginning. And now, at last he has fallen! Precious Potter is down for the count and there is nothing you can do about it, except kill him, and spare him the excruciating pain that is inevitable. Spare your love, Blaise. Kill him.'"

The girl had her hands out at her sides, palms open, wand nowhere in sight. She obviously was not at all fearful of the Order and their wands.

"So go ahead! Suspend me! Knock me out! Kill me for all I care, but along with me goes my knowledge and my memories. Memories which obviously hold the key to Harry's revival. If Nott was there 'working his magic from the beginning', and saw everything between Harry and I, the only method to counter whatever is going on would be through examining every memory I have of myself and Harry together. That would be the only way to discover how Nott could have been affecting Harry when I would be willing to swear that the two of us never ran across that bastard any more times than was perfectly normal!" Blaise yelled out to the room.

The Order seemed to be debating furiously with each other over whether or not to lower their wands. Professor Dumbledore, who still seemed disappointed with the fact that Zabini had not apologized, still had his wand out though and that spurred all the rest to keep theirs out as well.

Only, it seemed rather pointless if they weren't going to hurt her, restrain her, or even touch her.

Finally, Alastor Moody spoke in grating tones that made Blaise Zabini break out into a full-fledged smile, "Girl, I think you are forgetting the fact that while we do need your memories, we do not need your permission to take them!

"If necessary, we could stun you and force the memories out of your head... and you could deal with any mental disabilities that would surely result from it on your own." The seasoned Auror allowed a grim smile twisted its way onto his scarred face and for the first time Blaise seemed mildly disconcerted.

Moody was getting very angry, and his magical eyeball seemed unable to stay still as the weathered Auror watched the Slytherin with his wand at the ready.

His words seemed to have restored a sense of authority in the other Order members, who held their wands more steadily and surely in Blaise's direction.

Finally Blaise, who was now standing a bit near the door of the room, whipped her wand out and quickly conjured an invisible shield around herself. Though they could not see it, the Order members all knew it was there.

She then shocked them all by putting the tip of her wand to her head. "You could of course, take my memories by force. But not if I Obliviated myself!"

The Headmaster cocked his eyebrow at Blaise and the girl got the message immediately. Interesting how the old man could communicate so much with on gesture.

Blaise knew what he was saying. His eyebrow was raised in a manner that would suggest that she must be absolutely insane to think for one moment that he would allow her to erase memories that would save Harry.

One flimsy shield was not going to stop the great Headmaster Dumbledore and Blaise knew it. It was the reaction of another that she was expecting. A reaction that came before the Headmaster could get out a word.

"You wouldn't!" Remus screamed, his concern for Harry winning out over his faith in the Headmaster's ability. "You wouldn't do that to Harry, not when you obviously care for him! It would be condemning him to some awful end!"

"Maybe I would and maybe I wouldn't," Blaise said in a sing-song voice twirling her wand around and slowly tracing circles around her temple, "But if I did it, I wouldn't really regret it now, would I? As I wouldn't remember Harry one bit! Isn't that right, Professor?"

The girl continued to stress her point by tapping her wand against he temple with each word, "Not-" tap "-one-" tap "bit!" She tapped her wand against her head a final time and beamed at the severely shaken werewolf.

"What do you want?" Remus pleaded with the girl in a quiet voice.

Blaise turned her light chocolate eyes on the man, "Professor Lupin! Don't be sad. Aw, look at that! The love of a surrogate godfather. Ladies and gentleman, isn't this touching?"

"You've made your point, Ms. Zabini," the Headmaster said sternly. "It would not be in your best interest to continue in this vein."

"Very well, Headmaster," Blaise said in her normal colder and much more serious tone of voice (which she hadn't used in quite a bit). Though she only uttered those three words her tone spoke volumes to the group and it became obvious to the Order that the little Slytherin brat knew that she had one-upped them.

And the worst part was that it was true. For the moment she had the Order in a tight spot. Remus was nearly hysterical with worry for Harry and was obviously going to protect Blaise if only to preserve her knowledge on Harry's condition.

Moody's normal eye was twitching and Tonks and Emmeline Vance seemed to have scowls permanently affixed to their faces.

Blaise let a small smile to come to her lips at the sight, "Lower your wands."

Nearly in unison the members of the Order brought their wand arms down, except for several who still aimed their wands at her cousin, Draco.

"I said," Blaise sternly commanded with narrowed eyes, "lower your wands. Wouldn't it be just terrible if I accidentally Obliviated myself... my wand is still pointed at my head."

Some Phoenixes of the Order immediately lowered their wands at the threat while others challenged her by keeping their wands trained on Draco.

"Very well then," she said in her falsely cheery voice and she opened her mouth quickly to say the spell.

"NO!" Remus yelled as he rushed over to the Order members with their wands still raised. The concerned werewolf forcibly pushed the wand arms of all those members who had not disarmed so they were pointing at the floor.

All the while he was mumbling incoherently about Harry and keeping him safe.

Once all the wands were lowered and Draco was breathing freely once more, Blaise lowered her shield and said, "Way to go, Professor Lupin, I knew you had it in you! Why, you just saved Harry yourself!"

The Headmaster stared at Blaise disappointedly and the girl couldn't help but smile.

Yes, she knew that the Headmaster still had most of the power. However, she had succeeded in her mission and established exactly how much control she too had over the situation.

This Order was not about to use their imposing numbers and brute magical force to intimidate or threaten her. She wouldn't stand for it. It had never been in her nature to contain herself in the name of the greater good or other such nonsense.

She would do what they wanted, but not with all of them pointing their wands at her and her cousin, thinking that they had them defeated.

She would do it with them thanking their lucky stars that she hadn't gone completely over the bend and screwed them over completely. At least that way she could take comfort in the fact that she hadn't been overcome.

The way that she looked at it if her knowledge was her power, then Dumbledore himself should bow down to the power she obviously had when it came to Harry.

But, this was the Headmaster and Blaise wasn't going to wait for a miracle.

"Alright, Headmaster!" the Slytherin said with a happiness in her voice that wasn't all fake as she walked over to her seat before the Perlustrare. "What have I got to do?"

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*><*><*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*

Blaise's head was throbbing with an intensity that was frightening. She felt as though every beat of her heart was sending some kind of sick wave of pain throughout her body.

The most intense pain was centered on her head. For the fifth or sixth time in the past ten minutes Blaise took a very deep breath and held it, desperately clutching the sides of the large wooden instrument that was slowly absorbing her Harry-related memories.

The process was excruciating and she was sure that her nails were biting deeply into the wood and ruining the shapes of the runes etched in it. It was hard for the Slytherin to believe that the very same runes she had once looked upon with fascination and admiration were causing her such pain.

The Headmaster had explained, after he had calmed down a bit, that each of the runes represented a certain aspect of the memory they were taking in. The sounds from the moment, the sights, the smells, the Headmaster said it was even possible for certain feelings to be attached to particularly traumatizing or dramatic memories; but Blaise found that she didn't really care what the Perlustrare was absorbing right now.

She cared about the fact that it was slowly melting her brain.

The girl stifled a groan and resisted the urge to yank her hands away from the infernal bowl and run from the room screaming. Instead she tried to think.

There were several memories she had of Harry that she absolutely refused to share with the Order.

And Blaise knew within her heart that no matter what Professor Lupin, Professor Dumbledore or anyone else had to say about it, Harry wouldn't want her to share those memories either.

Blaise also knew that if there was any opportunity she had of stopping the Order from seeing things, this was it.

After all, what better time is there to stop something from being dumped into a bowl then when it was being poured?

'It's just like in Potions,' the girl thought slowly, 'when you are trying to extract the seeds from the liquefied Wylantus flower you don't dump the whole liquid into the potion and then fish the seeds out. No, you put the strainer right above the cauldron and pour the liquid right through. The strainer takes the seeds out.'

So this was it.

She had to find a way to play the strainer, a way to pluck any classified, ultra personal memories of herself and Harry out before they ever went in.

Now, if only she knew how to do that.

After some rather intense and mind numbing concentration, Blaise found that if she remained focused she could actually get a glimpse of each memory as it was duplicated and extracted from her brain.

Her grip on the sides of the wooden bowl tightened as she concentrated. So far it seemed that the bowl contained the memories of her first sessions with Harry, and a few of their extra-tutorial meetings as well.

Nothing too personal yet, nothing worth splitting her head open for. Then came the first of a series of memories that Blaise knew were the real beginnings of her relationship with Harry.

It felt as thought she was racing to recall her times with Harry faster than the Perlustrare could duplicate and absorb them.

The first few times she stopped a memory from going in it wasn't quite as difficult as she thought it would be.

All she really needed to do in order to keep a memory out of the device she discovered was to focus on it completely and coerce the damned thought to stay solely in her mind.

When she did this, it seemed that the Perlustrare became irritated and just left it. It seemed, however that the pickier she got and the more memories she tried to preserve, the more difficult it became.

The Perlustrare was an anaconda slithering around her mind. The creature would stop at memories of herself and Harry and squeeze them until they duplicated and were deposited into the bowl.

The snake seemed not to take mind of her irritating tactic of withholding memories at first, but soon it became more insistent. Which was really unfortunate for Blaise, seeing as the device was raping her mind of her memories in chronological order. Thus, the point that the memories were becoming harder to withhold happened to be around the exact time when her relationship with Harry was becoming much more personal... and much more private.

She let several things slide that she probably wouldn't have if given the choice, but she decided that she would just have to forgive herself for it and blame it on the excruciating pain blasting through her head.

Blaise did manage to sever some memories at points she would rather keep private and found herself quite satisfied with that.

Than came at long last the one memory she was determined to keep entirely private. She focused with all her might on the memory and directed all of her attention on the event that seemed to have occurred years before when it really wasn't that long at all.

The Perlustrare-anaconda was not letting go this time, as this memory was rather long, but Blaise wasn't letting up either.

The Slytherin took a deep breath yet again and released it slowly, deciding to let herself get lost in the memory and thus attach it to herself in a way that the Perlustrare couldn't possibly duplicate or separate.

The young witch's eyes fluttered a bit before she closed them very tightly and clenched the bowl within her fingers with all of her might.

Her expression and her thoughts screamed out, 'This one isn't coming out without a fight.'

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*><*><*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*

Remus watched in fascination as Zabini seemed to glare at the ornate wooden bowl before her and close her eyes, which were gleaming with determination.

The werewolf glanced at Headmaster Dumbledore who, much to Remus' surprise, seemed to be shaking his head at the young Slytherin with a bit of fondness shinning from his bright blue eyes.

Remus furrowed his brow in confusion. The Headmaster had specifically told Blaise to keep her eyes closed and to try to relax her grip on the delicate Perlustrare.

Yet he was smiling as he watched the girl obviously disobey his instructions. And for someone who had been threatening her with expulsion not too long ago, the smile seemed even more out of place.

Remus shook his head and gave up on his ponderings of Dumbledore in favor of watching Blaise battle the device before her.

He found his eyes widening of their own accord when the girl tensed in her seat for a moment before almost melting into it. Remus would have thought she had fainted had it not been for her hands which were still gripping the sides of the bowl, her head which was still upright, and her right foot which was bobbing up and down slightly.

Remus was fairly certain it had been doing that for the entire time she had been depositing memories into the Perlustrare, however he only noticed it now as the rest of her had suddenly become motionless and almost completely relaxed.

He watched the girl in fascination as the Slytherin's slightly tanned, but oddly pale, face began to gain some color. A lovely shade of pink suddenly appeared in two dots on her cheeks and soon spread to cover a great deal of her face.

She was blushing.

Remus was flabbergasted. He couldn't remember seeing the girl ever redden (or pink-en in this case). Now, it was true he had only taught the girl for one year, but after all of the experimenting they had done in his Defense class with magical creatures he had seen nearly all of his students in some embarrassing situation or other.

Thus he'd the pleasure of viewing plenty of thirteen year olds duck their heads in the humiliation of having a suckerpuss splatter them with it's sticky secretion or redden like tomatoes when they found that the sight of their boggart had reduced them to quivering masses on the floor.

During his term as Professor R. J. Lupin, he had even seen the implacable, untouchable Blaise Zabini embarrassed at her silly mistake on the final exam. But even when she was faced with the eternal mortification of forgetting the spell to banish a Hinkypunk, the girl's face had never gained an iota of color.

She had simply inquired on the value of the final exam towards one's cumulative average as she removed the large chunks of seaweed from her sopping wet hair.

Remus found it difficult to believe that this was that same girl as he watched her face progressively get less pink and more red.

Then she began to bite her lip slowly in a way that reminded Remus of something, but he could not recall what it was. Her breaths were coming out in small gasps and the flickering light of the room made the slight perspiration on Blaise's forehead glisten.

Remus knew a thing or two about Perlustrares. He by no means proclaimed himself an expert, but he was fairly certain he had a great deal more knowledge about them than Hermione and Luna combined as he, unlike the two teens, had lived through the trials of the Death Eaters after Voldemort's first defeat.

Perlustrares were even rarer at that time, but he had read of one very detailed account buried deep within the Prophet of how the memories were extracted. The witness to the duplication and withdrawal of the memories had by no means hinted at any effects or results quite as... orgasmic in appearance as this.

Finally Blaise inhaled were loudly and deeply before her foot stopped bobbing up and down and her head lolled forward. Her hands, though, were still against the sides of the wooden bowl.

Draco and Severus, who had been watching the entire scene with perfectly blank faces stepped forward and moved to pull her away from the device, but Professor Dumbledore stopped them.

"Gentleman," the Headmaster said in a voice that caused both of them to halt their movements immediately, "I suggest that you both allow Ms. Zabini to finish."

The two Slytherins leveled two frighteningly similar glares on the old Professor, but nonetheless backed away a bit from the girl. When they both backed up a step their bodies obstructed Lupin's view.

As much as the werewolf didn't want to admit it, Blaise's threat of wiping her memory had frightened him a great deal. Though he knew the girl was obviously not carrying it out, the former professor moved a bit closer to see the process through to its end and reassure himself that they were on their way to Harry's revival.

Once Remus had moved enough to be able to see Blaise, he watched as her hands fell from the bowl and on to the table it was resting on. The Perlustrare glowed a faint silver color before each rune carved on the bowl lit up, one at a time and finally all at once.

Then, suddenly, a bright flash of light filled the room and when Remus's eyes had cleared, he was able to see a silvery substance within the ornate bowl which looked very much like molten mercury.

Once the former professor had gotten over his shock at seeing the Perlustrare full, he looked toward the Slytherin who had labored over the device for an eternity of twenty long minutes.

He noticed that the girl had pitched forward after contributing her last memory and her head was resting between her arms which were lying flat on the small table.

The young witch's head was almost touching the bowl which was nearly full with the silvery liquid, and Remus found that he had a hard time looking away from the molten substance. Her dark hair had spread around the bowl and the table, forming a halo of raven silk.

Draco was the first to approach the girl and he placed a hand on her cheek which was once more devoid of color. The boy pulled his hand away quickly and seemed to be trying to come to grips with an idea.

He opened his mouth and the entire room waited silently for his response. Even the flames of the candles seemed to hold their movement until Draco finally whispered, "She's cold. Freezing cold."

"Impossible!" Severus proclaimed and he hastily pulled the young Malfoy away to see the girl himself.

The Head of Slytherin placed his hand on her cheek and then quickly to her neck. To Remus it looked as though the stern Head had to stop himself from sighing in relief as he said more to Draco than anyone else, "She's just unconscious, but you are correct. Given her state a few moments ago, she is inexplicably cold."

It seemed that as a unit the entire room of assembled witches and wizards turned to Professor Dumbeldore for an explanation. The old mage tugged at his beard a bit before meandering across the room and closer to Blaise.

"I am afraid, Severus, that upon closer examination one would find that Blaise is not simply unconscious. She has fallen into a state I like to call a magical sleep." At the several incredulous looks he received the Headmaster smiled, "It is of course not really called that. But if I were to say its real name I know I would get into a highly technical explanation that and we simply do not have the time for. It simply means that Ms. Zabini is going to sleep for as long as it takes for her magical reserves to stabilize."

"Stabilize from what?" Draco snapped at the Headmaster the boy's typical sneer and condescending tone in place.

"From counteracting the Perlustrare of course!" The headmaster said joyously. "I must say she did put up quite the fight!

"But never fear," Dumbledore said in particular to Remus with a glance at the full Perlustrare, "I should think we will have more than enough memories to work out our little mystery, despite Ms. Zabini's editing."

Draco made an indignant sputtering noise, "Is that all you care about? What about Blaise? Or have we all forgotten the fact that she is lying, near dead, and freezing on that table over there."

Professor Dumbledore fiddled with his half moon glasses for a moment before he said, "She could of course be taken to the Hospital Wing. But... wouldn't you agree, Draco, that the full staff of Healers at St. Mungo's would be much better at seeing to your cousin than Madame Pomphrey, who is after all, just one woman. Perhaps you'd like to accompany Blaise there?"

Draco narrowed his eyes furiously and his mouth opened in a full fledged snarl, "You planned this all along, didn't you? You knew this would happen! You knew Blaise wouldn't give up her memories without a fight, but you let her do it anyway so that you could ship both her and me off to St. Mungos! Then you could all be free to riffle through her memories without interference!"

The boy, for the second time in one night, had become over come with rage and in a move of utmost idiocy pulled his wand on the Headmaster. There was no Blaise to protect him this time and nearly instantly he was knocked out by at least five different stunners.

One of which came, surprisingly, from the wand of his Potions Professor.

Snape looked down at Draco with some disappointment, but a great deal of understanding in his eyes. He most definitely saw the boy's point and had noticed that the Headmaster was orchestrating some sort of plan; but he, unlike the impetuous teenager, trusted Dumbledore and would not stand for any more mindless shouting when time was of the essence.

The room became silent with Draco's fall to the floor, each person lost in their own thoughts and theories until the cry of Fawkes brought them all back to attention.

The Headmaster spoke before anyone else had the chance, "Ms. Lovegood, Mr. Longbottom, wouldn't you agree that it would be nice for the two of you to accompany Ms. Zabini and Mr. Malfoy here to St. Mungo's? Perhaps you could visit Harry a bit. His magic is quite stable now, and I'm sure he would, whether awake or not, appreciate a visit from some friends."

Luna did not say a word but stood when Neville got up. "Sure, Professor," the soft-spoken Gryffindor responded. Everyone in the room noticed though, that his words were a bit drawn out and he gazed at the fallen Malfoy with a pondering expression.

"Remus," the Headmaster continued, "I am sure you wouldn't mind accompanying the students to the hospital."

Remus opened his mouth in obvious indignation and was about to say something when Dumbledore continued, "Am I right in assuming that you would love to pop in to see Harry for a bit while you were there?"

Remus narrowed his eyes in defiance.

The Headmaster sighed a bit before saying, "Surely the students cannot go alone and, never fear, in time we will send someone to relieve you and perhaps bring Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, and Ms. Weasley over as well. Not for too long of course, but as they have all taken their exams, I can't see how spending visiting hours with their friend could hurt."

Remus nodded with the expression of a prisoner of war commanded to fire upon his own comrades as he walked over to the fireplace, levitating Draco and Blaise behind him, and gesturing to Luna and Neville to go first.

As the werewolf climbed into the fireplace last, squeezed in alongside the two unconscious students, (he had decided it would be best to wake Draco once they were already in the hospital) he stared long and hard at the assembled members of the Order.

It was impossible for anyone in the room to misinterpret the look that Remus leveled at the Headmaster. It clearly said that he was not doing this because he liked it or wanted it, but simply because it was his duty as an Order member.

The look also said to all those in the room that they had better figure out exactly what was wrong with Harry and how to fix it, or else there would be hell to pay in the form of one furiously overprotective werewolf.