- Rating:
- PG
- House:
- The Dark Arts
- Genres:
- Mystery
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets
- Stats:
-
Published: 07/17/2002Updated: 07/17/2002Words: 24,998Chapters: 1Hits: 659
Harry Potter and the Forgotten Memberies
Cjjade
- Story Summary:
- When is the past not the past? What secrets cannot be hidden? What truths must not be told? In clenched fist there is light that reveals all.
- Posted:
- 07/17/2002
- Hits:
- 659
The following adventure was related to Jade unconsciously using Mysterious Other Powers from one J.K. Rawling, and details the heretofore untold events that took place during the third year of Harry Potter's stay Hogwarts on the winter break.
***
"It's not on the map," said Harry, looking from the iron door before him to the tattered parchment in his hands. He tried the door again. It was locked and rusted shut and appeared not to have been used in a very long time.
"You shouldn't even have that map, and we definitely shouldn't be here," said Hermione in a mildly perturbed voice.
"Oh, Hermione," Ron said. "If it was up to you the only place we would ever see was the library." He looked over Harry's shoulder at the map. "How could it not be on the map, Harry?"
"I don't know," said Harry, staring intently at the Marauder's map, the magical parchment glowing dimly in the darkness of the passage. Twenty years ago the Marauders: Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and James Potter, had fashioned a wizard map while studying at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one that showed not only every passage in the castle, but the location of everyone in the castle. Harry noted the tiny ink figure of Professor Snape moving towards his office.
"Maybe something is wrong with the map?" Hermione suggested.
"And maybe it's you," snapped Ron. "I wish you would have stayed in the common room reading books."
"So do I," said Hermione irritably
"Maybe it's you. . ." Harry looked at the map. The map was a thing of magic, created to do something magical, like a broomstick was made to fly, and, like a broomstick, if it didn't work you could pretty easily tell. But a person. . .
"Harry, what do you mean?" Hermione sounded hurt. She was used to Ron picking on her, but not Harry.
"Hang on a second," said Harry looking around on the ground until he found what he was looking for, a good sized rock, which he hefted in hand.
"Close your eyes, Hermione. It will hurt less," said Ron, smirking.
"Ron!"
Harry ignored them as he drew his wand from his robes. He pointed it at the door and spoke.
"Illusio Nihilo!"
"Oh." Hermione understood then.
"What?" Ron was confused.
The door remained unchanged and Harry threw the rock at it.
The rock passed threw the door.
And a passage appeared on the map.
"It's an illusion," Ron whispered excitedly.
"There's a passage on the map now," said Harry, also excited.
"Great," added Hermione, who did not sound excited at all, but they ignored her.
And then the rock came flying back through the illusion of the door, nearly hitting Harry in the head. It struck the passage wall and clattered on the floor.
Ron and Hermione looked at Harry.
"Uh, oh," said Ron, backing away and stepping on Hermione's foot.
"Ouch!" She shoved Ron. "Harry, get away from there!"
Harry felt cold suddenly, cold inside, a kind of cold he had felt once before--
"Voldemort," whispered Harry, backing away.
"Don't say that name," Ron hissed.
--because he remembered how it felt, in that room after Professor Quirrell died--
"No, Harry," Hermione gasped.
--the thing that rose up from the ashes--Voldemort--and how it felt when it passed through him--
"Boo!"
"Ah!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione screamed in unison.
"You're not supposed to be here, not that I care," said Moaning Myrtle, the ghost from the girl's bathroom on the first floor.
"Blimey, Myrtle!" Ron put his hand over his heart. "Are you trying to make us ghosts, too?"
"Yes, Myrtle," Hermione reproved with a sniff, "or are you turning into a Peeves?"
Myrtle looked at Hermione in the way only angry females can towards each other.
"Do all ghosts feel cold?" Harry asked, curious, staring at her ethereal form drifting in the light breeze of the corridor.
"Ghosts don't feel anything," she said, and turned to squint at him through thick, spectral glasses. "Watch out for the trap in the hallway if you come this way," Myrtle said, before turning to float through the illusory door.
"Hang on, what trap?" Ron ran up to the door.
Myrtle stuck her head back through.
"The poison darts that shoot out of covered holes in the walls. If I were alive, I would crawl as close to the ground as possible." Her head disappeared through the door.
"Well, that's that, then," said Hermione with an exaggerated sense of finality.
Ron looked at Harry and Harry looked at Ron.
"Right, then," said Ron, and got down on his hands and knees. "Do you think this is low enough, Harry?"
"Ron, are you crazy?" Hermione stared at him, hands on hips.
"I think we should get lower." Harry proceeded to get down on his stomach, and Ron did the same.
"Well, I, for one, am not going to walk, or crawl, down a passageway that shoots poison darts." Hermione crossed her arms in front of herself to emphasize the point.
"Hermione, Myrtle told us what the trap is. All we have to do is crawl past it," Harry said, looking at her from the floor.
"Poison darts! And what else? Do you think that's the only trap?"
"Why don't you go first and find out," Ron said, lying on the passage floor, head propped on elbow.
"I'm not going at all. I'm going back to Gryffindor."
"All right, Hermione," said Harry, trying to sound reasonable. "Well see you when we get back."
"You'll see me if you get back," Hermione said, in a most unreasonable tone, thought Harry.
"That would be at least one good thing about not getting back," Ron said, grinning.
Hermione turned and stalked off.
"You shouldn't have made her mad," Harry reproved, except he was smiling.
"She was driving me mad--crazy. Ready?"
"Yeah," Harry said eagerly.
"How much farther, Harry?" Ron's voice had taken on a dusty, wheezing sound.
Harry stopped and pulled his map out from under his robes, shaking the dust off it. "Let's see. . .almost there." He looked ahead into the passage they had been crawling down for what seemed like forever. Wane light from magic lanterns spaced far apart on both sides of the walls trailed off into darkness, except for a dim reddish light in the distance. He crawled forward, kicking up more of the thick, powdery dust that now covered him. He heard Ron, shuffling behind him, sneeze.
"What is all this stuff?" Ron was clearly disgusted.
Harry coughed, "I don't know." He cleared his throat. "It seems awfully dry for a dungeon tunnel."
"Yeah, hot and dry," Ron said, breathing heavily.
They pushed on and the chamber at the end of the passage slowly took shape in the dim light. There was a stone table and something on top of it, like a bowl, and from that came the soft glow.
Harry felt a chill suddenly.
"Myrtle?" Harry glanced around quizzically.
"Are you looking under my robes?" Myrtle appeared above Harry, and Harry looked away embarrassed.
"You don't have robes, Myrtle. You're a ghost," Ron said in raspy voice.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Myrtle was irritable today, thought Harry.
"Are we past the poison darts yet, Myrtle?" Harry asked.
"What? Oh, yes, you can get up now. Where's Hermione?"
"She decided to do us the favor of not coming along," said Ron, getting to his feet, trying to brush off some of the dust.
"Oh." Myrtle looked unhappy.
"Myrtle, can you tell us if there are any more traps?" Harry stood up, shaking dust from his robes, which made Myrtle turn a sour brown color, rather than ethereal blue. She floated into the chamber, over the table, and the glow from it made her a reddish orange.
"No more traps. Just these." She looked down at the table.
In the center of the low set table, there was a metal bowl, a brass bowl, and in it were three glowing stones, the size and shape of acorns, glowing red, like smoldering coals. Each one was set into a pendant that was attached to a silver necklace. Harry and Ron walked over to them.
"Wild! What are they?" Ron's eyes grew large at the sight of the magic stones.
"Memberies," said Myrtle indifferently.
"Memberies?" Harry extended a hand above the bowl. He felt no heat, and lowered his hand slightly.
Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Careful, Harry, don't get burned."
"You sound like Hermione," Harry said, smiling at him.
"I'm not that bad," Ron said, frowning.
"They aren't hot, not that I can feel heat," said Myrtle, with a sigh. "You should have brought Hermione. I'm sure she knows all about them."
"Do you know what they do, Myrtle?" Harry asked her, holding his hand over the glowing coals, but careful not to touch them.
"They help you remember things."
"Like a Rememberall," Ron suggested.
Myrtle shrugged.
"They don't feel warm at all," Harry said, and lightly brushed the three stones with the palm of his hand.
"Hermione! Come quick! Something happened to Harry!" And Ron was gone back down the stairs before Hermione could say a word. She jumped up from the book she was reading, Hogwarts Dungeons Through the Ages: A Sedimentary Journey, and hurried after him.
"Ron!" Her voice was loud and strained as she ran down the stairs. "What happened to Harry? What happened to your robes?" She waved her hands at the cloud of dust trailing from Ron's robes as he ran through the empty halls of Hogwarts during winter break. He skidded to a halt in front of the statue of the humpbacked witch and pressed the hump to open the secret passage to the caverns.
"The Memberaries did it. . ." Ron was gasping for breath, as the door swung slowly open.
"Memberaries?"
"Yeah, come on!" Ron ran down the secret stairs.
"Memberaries," Hermione repeated, following him.
"They did something to him," Ron said, as he reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped, causing Hermione to nearly run into him.
"Who? The Memberaries? And why are you stopping?" Ron turned to her, his face very upset, and Hermione thought he might actually start to cry.
"Not who! They're--little stones," he said, spinning around wildly, looking at all the passages, which all looked identical. "Blast! I cant remember which way. . ." Ron's voice was very anxious, and his lip was quivering.
"Calm down, Ron," Hermione said, trying to sound like her mother did when her father got carried away, "I remember the way." She turned to the correct passage and marched off.
"Hurry, Hermione, Harry--"
"Ron," Hermione said over her shoulder without breaking her quick stride, "I remember the way, but we don't have the Marauder's Map, do we?"
"No." Now Ron sounded anxious and guilty.
"Then we have to be careful not to get lost."
"But something happened to Harry!" Ron's voice climbed towards panic again.
"Yes, but what happened?" Hermione stopped at an intersection and stood concentrating for a moment. "Was Moaning Myrtle there?" she asked.
"Yeah, but she was no help," Ron said angrily. "There weren't even any poison darts. She made that up."
Hermione chose a tunnel and pushed on. "Well, that doesn't surprise me--about the darts--but if there was real danger then Myrtle would have gone for help. All the ghosts at Hogwarts, even Peeves, are required to assist the students in life threatening emergencies."
"How do you know that?" Ron asked.
"Ron," Hermione admonished, haven't you ever even looked at the Gryffindor Guide to Life at Hogwarts?"
"Why would I want to do that?" He sounded genuinely perplexed.
"Never mind, just tell me, exactly, what happened. Don't leave anything out." Hermione stopped at a fork in the cavern passage and chose the one that descended gradually.
"Well, we crawled down this hallway that was really dusty and dry. That's how my robes got so dirty."
"Dusty and dry," Hermione repeated.
"Yeah, and at the end of it there was this stone table, and in this brass bowl were the Emberaries."
"I thought you said they were Memberaries."
"What? Yeah, I guess, I don't remember. What does that matter? Harry touched them and fell over!"
"What did he touch, Ron? What are they?"
"They were. . .stones, glowing stones, like burning coals, except they weren't on fire."
"Glowing stones. . ."
"Yeah, three of them, and Harry touched them."
"Honestly," Hermione muttered, and there was a lot about the behavior of boys in that one word.
"I told him to be careful, Ron retorted.
"Hmph," Hermione hmphed.
"Well, then he fell down, eyes rolled right back in his head--it was wild--like he was shocked dead or something, and then Myrtle just kinds of glides over to him and stares at him. I tried to wake him up and yelled at her, but she just ignored me, so I ran off down the passage to get help."
"Is that when you figured out Myrtle was lying about the poison darts?"
"Uh, yeah," said Ron sheepishly.
"It's a wonder you found you're way out of the caverns," Hermione said.
"I didn't have time to think about it."
"That's probably best."
In a few more minutes they came around a bend and Ron recognized the illusory door, and promptly bolted off through it.
"Ron, wait," said Hermione exasperatedly, then ran after him. It didn't take long before they got to the chamber, and there, sitting on the floor, with his hands around his knees, was Harry.
"Harry!" The relief in Ron's voice was obvious.
"Harry Potter!" And so was the remonstration in Hermione's.
"Hey," said Harry, who sounded odd, a little confused.
"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, a trifle more concerned.
"Yeah. I'm okay," said Harry, but he made no move to get up.
"He shouldn't have touched all three of them. Even I know that about Memberies." Myrtle drifted lazily in back of the table.
Hermione turned on her.
"If you knew that, then why didn't you tell him? And why did you tell them there were poison darts in the walls? What's wrong with you Myrtle?" Hermione's voice was very cross, and it had an immediate effect upon Myrtle.
"You think you're so smart, Hermione." Myrtle drifted over to float eye to eye with Hermione.
"Myrtle's got a point there, I'm afraid, Hermione," said Ron, kneeling next to Harry.
"Shut up, Ron!" Myrtle and Hermione both shouted.
"If I am smart, it's because I work hard," said Hermione, turning back to Myrtle, "but one thing I'm not is a Peeves!"
"Don't you say that! I am not a Peeves! It's not my fault!" And Moaning Myrtle burst into tears and streaked away down the hall, her wailing voice trailing after her. Hermione turned towards the boys, very angry indeed.
"Hermione--" Harry started to speak but was cut right off.
"Don't you say anything, Harry, not a word, and not you either, Ron."
"Who, me?" Ron squeaked like a mouse.
"Do you ever think about what you are doing? What if those Memberies, and she emphasized the word, were dangerous?" She looked sternly at Harry. "What if there were poison darts in the walls?" She looked at Ron.
"We're sorry, Hermione," Harry apologized, slowly rising to his feet.
"Easy, Harry," said Ron, helping him. "What did you say they were, Hermione, the stones?"
"Memberies," she said, turning to look at them. She reached out and picked up one by the chain. "They're in A Guide to Magical Stones and Gems, Fifty-Fifth Edition." The glowing stone hung by it's chain from her hand.
"Memberaries," mumbled Ron. "What do they do, and what did they do to Harry?"
"Well, they are supposed to help you remember things, though I don't recall reading anything bad about them," she said, frowning, looking at Harry.
"You mean like a Rememberall?" asked Ron, who went over to the bowl and carefully lifted the two remaining stones by the chains, one in each hand.
"No, not like that. They don't remind you of things. Memberies remember for you."
"Remember for you," whispered Harry, reaching out to take one by the chain from Ron.
"Yes," said Hermione, looking at Harry. "If you read something, like a spell, but have trouble remembering it, the Membery will remember it for you. I don't know what happened to you Harry."
"Hang on," said Ron excitedly, "are you saying the Memberary can help you learn spells, and other stuff?"
"No, Ron, the Membery can't learn anything for you. You have to do that. And if I remember right, they are very delicate, have to be kept dry at all times. A single drop of water will destroy one. That's probably why it's so dry in here.
"Well, we'll see about this," Ron said, licking his lips, and with his free hand touched his Membery. His eyes went wide.
"What happened?" Harry looked at Ron keenly.
"I remember what I had for breakfast!" Ron appeared stunned.
"That doesn't seem like a particularly great achievement, Ron, no offense." Harry covered his mouth and coughed to keep from laughing.
"Oh, yeah, then what did we have?" Ron challenged Harry.
"Er. . .I don't remember," said Harry, after all it wasn't something you really ever thought about.
"Potato pancakes, wildebeest sausages, and oranapple juice," Hermione said, smugly.
"You don't count, Hermione," Ron replied. "You probably studied the menu last night in case there was a test."
"I pay attention. Do you remember anything else? Spells? Potions?"
Ron frowned and concentrated. "Nope, just breakfast."
"Exactly." Hermione brought a pouch out from under her robes and dropped a Membery in it. "Try studying."
"What happened to you when you touched them, Harry?" Ron asked.
Harry looked from one to the other of his friends. "I don't remember," he said simply.
"Huh." Ron scratched his head.
"I think it's time to go," said Hermione. "Do you to want to crawl or walk down the passage this time." Hermione's smile was quite annoying.
"Dear, you're bouncing Harry a bit much." The female voice was warm and soft.
"Is he smiling or tossing up?" The male voice was strong, not like cold steel, but resonant and vibrant, a vigorous tree.
"A bit of both, I think, hold on." He felt hands grasp him and lift him into the air, but he was not afraid. There was the smell of strawberries, but he did not know that name.
"Oh, he's fine," said the male voice. "Aren't you Harry?"
Harry tried to turn his head, but it didn't work very well.
"He knows his name! Do you see?" The woman sounded excited.
"Yes, I believe you're right. Just wait until he gets to Hogwarts." The man was pleased.
Harry wished he could see them, but his vision was blurry, and he couldn't seem to focus.
"Oh, James," she said suddenly, in a fearful voice, "I am afraid of the world he will grow up in."
"Lily, we can't let him win that way, said James. We must live our lives in spite of him." His voice was determined then, like that of the tree in the storm that bends but will not break, and then James Potter gathered his wife and child in his arms and held them close.
Harry lay in his bed, staring at the Membery on his chest, which glowed a soft orange in the moonlight. He was not happy. He had lied to his friends when he had said he didn't remember what had happened when he had touched the Memberies. He felt bad about that. He was also unhappy because his single Membery was not enough to. . .do what all three of them did. His single Membery let him recall that moment, somewhere, long ago, with his parents, but only that one. . .but when he touched all three Memberies. . .it was like he was there. It was like his parents were alive, and he was with them. Harry grasped the single Membery and set it on his night stand. He rolled over and sat up, turning his back on it, sitting in the darkness. He could not sleep. He wondered if there was a danger in grasping three stones. He wondered if he cared.
"Harry? What are you doing here?" Hermione's voice was surprised, and Harry opened his eyes to see her and Ron in the library.
"I can't believe it, Harry. Who's turning into Hermione now?" Ron chided. Hermione gave Ron a warning look. Harry raised his head from a book. He had fallen asleep.
"I. . .wanted to find out more about the Memberies," he said, yawning.
"Well, that's a surprise," Hermione said, looking at him closely. "Harry, are you sure you're all right from touching those stones?" Her voice was concerned, but she was also suspicious, and there was nothing worse than a suspicious Hermione.
"Leave off, Hermione. He's all right," Ron said, picking up on Hermione's attitude. "You are okay, aren't you Harry?"
"Yes, I'm fine, just curious," he said, smiling.
"Okay," Hermione said excitedly, clearing a space at the table full of books, and sitting down across from him. "What have you learned?"
Hermione was weird, thought Harry then, but not in a bad way, exactly. It was just that she was happiest when she was. . .studying, learning about things through books. Harry and Ron were happiest exploring.
"Well?" Hermione was expectant.
"Oh, I found this," he said, showing her Magical Rare Gems: An Overview. Harry read from the open page.
"'The Membery, a gem with a rare factor of eight, used to aid in the recovery of latent memories.'"
"What's latent mean?" Ron idly flipped through the pages of another book. He sounded bored already.
"Latent," Hermione said, not unlike Professor McGonagall, "refers to something that is present or potential, but not active or evident."
The boys stared at her.
"Honestly," she said exasperatedly, and thought for a moment. "Ron, you remember how you found your way out of the Membery chamber to me, but you couldn't find your way back?"
"Yeah."
"That was a latent memory. You knew the way because you had traveled it, but because you didn't take the time to learn it, to memorize it, you couldn't remember it very well. Memories are kind of like potions. You have to be careful to do things just right, or they won't work."
"Potions, ugh. I hate potions," Ron said, with a great deal of feeling.
"So your test scores would indicate, Weasley," said Professor Snape, who suddenly had appeared at the end of a row of shelves.
"Good morning, Professor Snape," said Hermione.
"Miss Granger," said Snape, not looking at her, but at Harry. "Mr. Potter."
"Professor," said Harry, guardedly.
"Hermione, was just helping us study about potions," Ron improvised.
"Indeed. Perhaps you might help me, then" said Snape, his lips curling into a smile that was part sneer.
"Help you?" Ron was very unhappy.
"Yes. Professor Dumbledore made a rather obscure request, a bottle of Dragon Ink, and it appears something is missing from my notes regarding the bloodstone."
"It's crushed, muddy bloodstone, Professor," said Hermione eagerly.
"That is what I thought, Miss Granger, but it does not work." Snape frowned, as if trying to remember.
Suddenly Ron's eyes went wide.
"No it's not," he squeaked, and everyone stared at him. "It's crushed, bloody mudstone."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Why Weasley, I believe you are correct. How interesting." He looked closely at Ron, who was torn between shrinking under Snape's gaze and puffing up. Snape turned to Hermione. "Well, Granger, it appears the pupil has surpassed the master," Snape said, smiling thinly, as Hermione turned red. "Thank you, Mister Weasley." Snape inclined his head and turned and left them, and as soon as he was out of the library Ron exploded.
"Excellent!" Ron was ecstatic.
"How did you know that, Ron?" Harry asked, knowing that Ron was barely able to pass Potions class.
"I read it in this book, on page 324," he said, pointing to the book he had been paging through, Big Potions, Small Gems.
"Wait just a moment," Hermione said cooly. "Ron, do you have that Membery with you?"
"Right here," he said, grinning, and showing the silver chain around his neck.
"Then you didn't remember anything," Hermione said, in a most superior sounding voice.
"So?" Ron was unfazed.
"Well, you can't rightly take credit for something you didn't do."
"Why not?"
"But--it's cheating!" Hermione was incensed.
"Harry, do you think it's cheating?" Ron asked Harry, though Harry wished he had not.
"Er, no, not really." Harry looked at Hermione, whose brow furrowed in his direction, which was not a good sign. "Ron did look at the page," he added weakly.
"Well, I think it's cheating, Ron Weasley--and you better stop it!"
"Huh. Sounds like somebody is worried about the competition, eh, Harry?" Ron crossed his arms on his chest, looking very pleased indeed.
"You have a stone, too, Hermione," Harry said reasonably.
"That's right, I do, so there, Ron," Hermione said quickly.
"Hermione, I am more than willing to share the stage." Ron sounded very magnanimous, which was exactly the wrong thing to do.
"Ron!" Hermione screeched.
"Hey, listen to this," said Harry, trying to change the subject by reading from the book. "'The effects vary inversely to the development of the memory of the person using them.'"
"What does that mean?" Ron asked, again.
"It means the smarter you are, the less helpful they are to you," Hermione said unhappily.
"No, there's more," Harry continued, "'though there are no known side effects from the use of Memberies, recent knowledge has come to light regarding the relationship between Memberies and ghosts. See the 27th volume of the Encyclopedia Magicka for further information.'"
"Let me see that," Hermione said, puzzled, taking the book from him.
"I'll get it," Ron said, getting up and going over to the shelf where the huge set of volumes for the Encyclopedia Magicka were kept.
"Good luck," Hermione murmured, rereading the page.
"Hey, it's missing," Ron said from across the room.
"Ron, there is no 27th volume," Hermione called out.
"What?"
"The information in the volumes is arranged alphabetically," Hermione said absently, still looking at the book.
"So?"
"There are only 26 letters in the alphabet," clarified Harry.
"Oh, yeah," said Ron, looking over the volumes before returning to the table. "Then how could there be a 27th volume?"
"Exactly," said Hermione. "There can't be."
"Maybe it's a mistake," Harry suggested.
"Maybe," said Hermione, sounding unconvinced.
"I'm hungry," said Ron.
Harry and Hermione looked at him.
"I mean we came in here looking for you to go to breakfast, Harry. Let's go before it's over."
"Okay," Harry replied. Hermione nodded, though she continued to look at that page as she got up.
Breakfast was uneventful, but on the way back to Gryffindor they were confronted with a singularly odd sight. There was a ghost, a ghost without a head, bumbling down the hallway, feeling about as if it couldn't see, which, of course, it could not, having no head.
"Who is that?" Harry asked, trying to step out of the way of the headless ghost. He felt that coldness from a ghostly hand brush through his left arm as the spectre came to a stop in front of them.
"It's Nick. Look at the clothes," said Hermione.
"But Nearly Headless Nick is only nearly headless," said Ron.
"Hey, oh, hey, what have we here? It's a potty, a weasy, and hermy," a voice said from somewhere, a voice that sounded like Hagrid.
"Hagrid?" Harry looked all around.
"It sounds like something Peeves would say," said Hermione, frowning.
"Yer right, Hermywormy." Peeves poofed into existence above them, the gangly ghost zooming around in a circle, carrying something in one hand.
"Peeves," Ron yelled, "what are you doing impersonating Hagrid?"
"What's he got?" Harry was getting dizzy from watching him go in circles.
"Hey, oh," said Peeves, and flew down in front of them. "Look see what I got." He sounded exactly like Hagrid, and he held in his hand the head of Nearly Headless Nick.
"Hello, Harry, Ron, Hermione," said Nick, trying to sound as normal as possible.
"Nick! You lost your head!" It was Ron that said what they all thought.
"Yes, but only temporarily," Nick responded, smiling wanly.
"Yes, indeed, lost his head," Peeves continued, in his Hagrid voice, "playing a poor hand at Peeves Poker Party, he did, so Peeves got him a new nutcracker." Peeves pulled from the air a ghostnut.
"But Nick, you can't lose your head, you're a ghost already." Even Hermione sounded confused.
"I know this looks odd--mmph!" He was cut off by Peeves stuffing the ghostly nut in his mouth.
"Nibble, anyone?" Peeves asked them, grinning. Nick bit down and cracked the nut which Peeves removed and ate.
"As I was saying," continued Nick, spitting out a bit of shell, "my head is still attached, just doesn't look like it. Ghosts can do that sort of thing, you know, body parts in different places and what not."
"Yes, yes, Nicky, me boy, but we've errands me thinks. Master Filch was talking of the plumbing stopped up in the girl's bathroom. What say we have a look see? Yer head looks about the right size to flush." Peeves raised the head to face his own.
"I'd prefer not to, if it's all the same," said Nick, resignedly.
"Righty, then," replied Peeves, ignoring Nick's protestation. He whooshed down the hall, leaving Nick's body to bumble about behind.
"I don't believe it," said Ron.
"It does seem odd. What was that about poker?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Hmph." Hermione sounded suspicious, again. "I have very serious doubts about any games Peeves is a part of. Poor Nick."
"My Uncle Vernon used to have his mates over once a month for Muggle poker, a card game, and no ghosts, just smelly cigars that upset Aunt Petunia."
"I think ghost poker is different, Harry, but I'm not sure," said Hermione.
"And what about Hagrid's voice?" When Ron posed that question it gave Harry a bad feeling.
"Maybe we should pay Hagrid a visit," said Hermione.
It was quite cold outside, and by the time they got to the groundskeeper's cottage they were freezing. There was smoke rising from the chimney, indicating a fire, but when they knocked on the door no one answered.
"Do you think he's in there?" Hermione asked, shivering.
"The cooking fires are going," said Ron, standing by a window, straining to see inside the dark cabin.
"Hagrid!" Harry pounded on the door while he yelled. After a bit they heard the sound of a latch pulling back, and Hagrid opened the door a crack.
"Hagrid, we need to talk to you," Harry said.
Hagrid looked unhappy and shook his head.
"Come on, Hagrid," said Ron through chattering teeth "It's cold out here."
Hagrid pointed to his throat.
"You have a sore throat?" Hermione guessed. Hagrid shook his head no, then yes.
"Blimey, Hagrid, let us in or well catch cold, too," Ron said, and as if to emphasize his point, sneezed loudly. Hagrid reluctantly opened the door.
Inside was warm, though slightly smelly, thought Harry, and, if Hermione's wrinkled nose was a clue, so did she. Ron busied himself by warming at the fire.
"Hagrid," said Harry, getting right to the point, "does your not speaking have anything to do with Peeves speaking like you?"
Hagrid looked up at the ceiling and clenched his fists before looking at Harry and nodding.
"Wait a moment," Hagrid, said Hermione, getting out here wand. She held it in front of her and spoke an incantation, "Stylus Magus!" Then she traced her name in the air with glowing letters that remained for several seconds afterwards.
"Wicked!" Ron was thrilled. "Where did you learn that?"
"It's from next terms lessons," she replied, quite satisfied with her efforts. "Here you are Hagrid." Hermione handed him the wand.
Hagrid accepted it and wrote in the air, as if it were a chalkboard. I lost my voice at Peeves Poker Party.
"Hagrid, you didn't!" Hermione admonished him sternly.
Hagrid sheepishly nodded his head.
"But Peeves can't steal your voice," Ron said anxiously.
"Yes, Hagrid, you should tell Dumbledore," Harry added.
Hagrid shook his head back and forth firmly, and then wrote in the air. I lost fair and square, and it's only until the winter break ends. It's a good lesson. Ghost poker is not for people.
"Ghost poker?" Harry had never heard of that.
Hagrid picked up a book from the table he ate off, which was covered with various bits and pieces of food, Hagrid not being particularly fastidious. He took the book, Ghost Poker for Morons, hefted it in his hand, and hurled it into his fireplace.
"Hagrid!" Hermione gasped.
"Hagrid you'll give Hermione a heart attack doing stuff like that," Ron laughed.
"I don't understand, Hagrid," said Harry.
Hagrid wrote, Gamblin' tis a bad bizness. Am fer swearin off it, I am, and you, you all, stay away from that kind of thing, stay outa the adult section of Zonko's Joke Shop, ya hear me?
"We hear you, Hagrid," said Ron agreeably.
"I can do without that book," said Hermione, nodding her head.
"Well. . .yes, Hagrid," said Harry.
Hagrid nodded his head to underscore the point, then handed Hermione back her wand, meaning it was time for them to go. Hagrid really wasn't in the mood for talking, but as soon as they got outside, Ron sure was.
"Right, so whose for the adult section of Zonko's Joke shop?" Ron rubbed his hands together, as much from the cold as in anticipation.
"Ron, you just told Hagrid you would stay away from ghost poker!" Hermione was indignant.
"If you remember correctly," Ron said, pointing at the Membery, around his neck under his robes, "I said I heard him, which is not the same thing as agreeing to stay away, not at all."
"I was worried about you for a moment, Ron," said Harry, smiling.
"Well, you better worry about your precious, Ron," Hermione sniffed, raising a hand to catch a white flake from the air, "because it's starting to snow, and snow is water, and a single drop of water will destroy a Membery."
"Ah!" Ron bolted for Hogwarts. "See you inside," he yelled over his shoulder.
When they got inside, Hermione and Harry found Ron in Gryffindor, by the big fireplace, holding his Membery towards it, waving it back and forth.
"It's pitiful, don't you think, Harry?" Hermione said drily. "He can't keep his hands off it."
"Oh, get off it, Hermione," Ron replied, not even glancing up. "It's my Membery, and I'll do what I want with it."
"I think you should leave it here," said Harry, tentatively, "to keep it from getting wet."
"What?" Ron looked at Harry. Hermione also looked at Harry, in that smart, suspicious way, that really made it difficult to be sneaky.
"When you go to Hogsmeade," Harry added, "and you can use the invisibility cloak. The least we can do is look into the situation. For Hagrid and Nick."
"You're not going?" Ron was quite surprised.
"We had that close call with Snape, so I don't want to take the chance." The first time Harry had snuck off to Hogsmeade, Snape had almost caught him on the way back. "Are you going, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying not to sound hopeful.
"To look at adult books in Hogsmeade? Please, Harry. I'm going to the library. I want to look into that 27th volume of the Encyclopedia Magicka."
"Sounds like somebody's going to do some reading with their study aid," said Ron, which was what Harry was thinking, as well.
"Hardly," Hermione said airily. "I'll keep that thing in a box on my night stand until I find out a bit more about it."
Harry tried very hard not to show his excitement, but instead to look tired. "I'm for a nap. I didn't sleep well last night, and I got up early this morning."
"Okay, Harry," said Ron, looking a little concerned. "You get some rest." Hermione looked at Harry very closely. Blast her, thought Harry.
"Ron, let me give you a couple Galleons, in case you find anything interesting," Harry said, to get the subject off of himself.
"Right. We don't want to steal anything, just a little information on ghost poker."
"I don't want to know anymore about this," Hermione said with finality, heading for her bedroom.
"Women." Ron shook his head.
Harry checked the Marauder's Map. Hermione was indeed in the library, and Ron had just left the grounds of Hogwarts. He got up from his bed and went down the stairs to the common room, trying to tell himself he was just borrowing the stones, not stealing them. He turned and went up the stairs to the female bedrooms, to the room Hermione shared. Even though he knew the tower was empty but for the three of them, Harry was quite nervous, as if there might be some hideous monster residing in a female bedroom.
There was only Crookshanks, Hermione's' cat, rolling over on the bed at the sight of Harry. And a lot of the color pink. Harry had no idea why girls liked pink, but they did. Harry sat on the bed and petted the cat for a moment, staring at the box on the night stand. He sighed deeply. Maybe he should tell his friends what he was doing. They would understand, but then, because they were his friends, they might not let him use the stones, fearing for his safety. Harry was a little afraid, himself, but he very badly wanted to remember more of his parents. He reached for the box before going back to his bedroom.
"James, is it much farther?"
"Nearly there, dear."
"I should expect to see signs posted with Nearly There and the number of kilometers remaining," Lily muttered, breathing heavily.
"What was that, Lily?" James asked playfully.
"Just commenting on the foliage, James," Lily replied.
"Yes, quite nice."
Harry felt first-rate. The air was cool, but not cold, the scent of wildflowers upon it, the slight bouncing from sitting in the backpack was quite fun, going backwards was not a problem to him, for facing him, following him, was the blurry shape of his mother, who, even blurry, was a great comfort. All was right with the world, safe within the world, the world that was his mother and father.
"Here we are then," James said, after a time.
"Finally," sighed Lily.
"Yes, have a look." Harry noted, with a certain amount of dissatisfaction that his mother moved from his field of vision.
"Hush now, Harry." His mother's voice carried both comfort and admonishment, and he quieted. The only sounds were of his mother and father breathing.
"Beautiful, isn't it," said James, after a time.
"An enchanting vista," Lily replied, her voice light with humor.
"Yes, I thought so, too, very much like the Tower of Enchantment."
Lily Laughed aloud. "A rather refined name for a place rogues take ladies to steal their hearts, don't you think?" Lily prodded James in the shoulder accusingly.
"There is that," replied James, turning towards his wife.
"Poor Dumbledore. You certainly caused him a great deal of trouble during your time at Hogwarts." She slipped into his arms.
"It kept him young," James replied. "He took care of the tower problem, though when it's Harry's time to go to Hogwarts I'll have to be let in on the secret. We did leave that message for him in the tower."
"You most certainly will not!" Harry thought the voice of his mother sounded very protective.
"As you wish, dear," James said impishly, pulling back from his wife, and Harry felt himself tussled a bit as the backpack was lowered to the ground."
"James, what are you doing?" Lily asked.
"I am enchanted," breathed James, his voice strange to Harry's ears.
"James," Lily's voice sounded quite surprised to Harry, and he was not sure if he should cry out, but after a moment he heard his mother again speak his fathers name.
"Oh. . .James. . ."
Harry heard different noises from the two of them after that, but Harry made noises all the time of various sorts, and none of the sounds coming from his parents were particularly distressful, so, eventually, he nodded off.
Harry sat bolt upright, pulling his hand away from the Memberies, as if they had burned him. He was shaking and felt sick to his stomach. He had done a terrible thing, had seen something awful, something that he was not supposed to see, not ever. He got up from his bed quickly, grabbing Ron's stone, placing it under the pillow on his friend's bed where Ron had put it. Then he got Hermione's stone and practically ran to her bedroom to return it to the box by her bed. Harry was still shaking, and he felt. . .dirty. When he got back to the room he picked up his Membery and went to a pitcher of water on his night stand. He stood there, holding it over the pitcher, knowing that if he dropped it in the water, his problem would be solved. It took three of the stones to bring back his memories, three. Harry stood there for a long time, his shaking hand causing the Membery to sway back and forth, as if he were in hypnotism class, but Harry was under no spell, at least he didn't think he was. He just wanted to know about his mother and father--but not everything! After a while the stone stopped swinging, and Harry returned to his bed, placing the stone on the pillow. He took off his glasses and lay his head facing it, a faintly glowing blur before his eyes, one that grew more blurry in the face of worry, and guilt, and lack of sleep. And was he not so tired, and had he not closed his eyes, perhaps a single tear that blurred his vision might have fallen upon the stone and ended it there and then, but instead Harry slept and did not dream or remember.
"Harry, are you awake?" It was Ron.
"Yeah," Harry yawned, blinked, and sat up. He scratched his head and remembered Ron's errand. "Did you find out anything about Ghost Poker?"
"I found a book at Zonkos. Man, the adult section has some crazy joke spells."
"Like what?" Harry got up and they headed for the common room.
"Like jokes that make you forget your pants. I hope Fred and George never try that one. . .and a whole lot of Engorgement spells. It was weird."
"Huh," replied Harry, as they entered the common room. On the table by fire there was a book, a huge one that reminded Harry of a Muggle telephone book, and a giant jar of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.
"What are the beans for?" Harry was off the beans for a while; he had had a bad run of earth flavors: mud, gravel, moss.
"We will use them for poofs, that's what you bet with, and poofs can be anything, from Galleons to jelly beans."
"I thought you said you didn't know anything about Ghost poker."
"I do now." Ron grinned hugely, and pointed to the Membery under his shirt. He had put it on again.
"You read the whole book?" Harry was incredulous. Not even Hermione could have accomplished such a task in so short a time.
"I just paged through the book, like this." Ron proceeded to flip through the pages. "It's all in here now," he said, pointing to his head."
"I'm sure there is plenty of room for it." Hermione was standing at the bottom of the steps to the girls dormitories with her arms crossed.
"Nobody asked your opinion."
"Wait, Ron," Harry said, intervening. "Please, Hermione, we just want to help Hagrid and Nick."
Hermione looked at Harry shrewdly. "Is that what we want, Harry?" Her voice was very cool.
"Hermione, what's wrong with you?" By the sound of his voice, Ron had had just about enough of Hermione. Hermione drew in a deep breath for what Harry and Ron had begun to refer to as a 'Professor McGonagall' speech.
"Please." Harry's voice was plaintive.
Hermione chewed her lower lip. "Oh, all right," she said finally, and entered the room. "How do you play this game?"
"Well, most of the book is about what claw, that's the cards your get for a game, to play, and when. That's how you win. Here's the basic chart." Ron opened the book and a page unfolded itself and unfolded it self and unfolded it self until it was both on the table and the floor.
"Wow." Harry was amazed. It would take forever to learn the chart
Hermione sniffed. "It looks like thirteen cards, like Muggle cards, and. . .thirteen suits, that's what Muggles call them, and there are only four: hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds."
"Diamonds? Why would you have diamonds with monsters? I could understand a club. . .crazy Muggles."
"Hermione, are you using your Membery?" Harry asked.
"No, Harry," she said firmly. "I intend to prove that a person can do just as well, if not better," she said looking over at Ron, "using one's own study skills."
"Hermione, that's crazy! There a gazillion different plays, you can never learn them all, plus you have to remember which cards have already been played, so you know what's coming next--that's how you beat the system! You can't do it Hermione, not without a Membery." Ron sounded both exasperated and defensive.
"Well, I sure can't do it," said Harry. "Show me how to learn this chart Ron."
"Sure, Harry." Ron was obviously glad to have Harry seeing things his way. "You better hold your Membery in your hand for starters, then glance at the chart, but think about something else. . .like Quidditch."
"Okay," said Harry. He looked at the chart. It was full of monsters and ghosts he knew: Vampyres, Werewolves, Ghosts, Zombies, Ghouls, Skeletons. And some he didn't: Spectres, Wights, Wraiths, Doppelgangers, Shades, and Liches. In the four corners of the card was a small symbol, one of many possible, too many: skull, coffin, moon, rat, claw, spider, evil eye, wand, haunted house, tombstone, chains, snake, and bat. It made Harry's head hurt.
"Do you have it?" Ron asked, clearly excited.
"Er, I don't know."
"Well, what's better: a Full Cemetery, that's three or more Vampyres and the rest ghosts or other phantoms, or a Legion of Doom, that's one of each type of ghost or monster?"
"Uh. . ." Harry was lost.
"The Legion of Doom would be better," Hermione said thoughtfully.
"Hey, you used your Membery!" Ron said, sounding as if he was vindicated by her actions.
"I most certainly did not. It's obvious that one set of cards is more likely than the other, so the rarer 'claw' is better. This game doesn't sound so hard." She reached for the huge instruction book."
"I don't think I got it," said Harry, scratching his head.
"You can do it, Harry", Ron said, "but you need to grab hold of your Membery and squeeze it, at least for right now, until you get the hang of it."
"Okay." Harry did as he was instructed, wondering if his usage of the three Memberies had made it impossible for him to use a single one like Ron.
"Now, think of something else while looking at the list," Ron coached.
Harry looked at the list. It was huge. He tried to think of Quidditch.
"Are you thinking of something else?"
"I'm trying."
"Good, because--Professor Snape!" Ron yelled and leaped to his feet.
Harry jumped up and turned toward the portrait door--but no one was there.
"Ron!" Hermione had jumped up, as well, and looked flustered and angry.
"Sorry," Ron laughed, "but it didn't look like you were not concentrating. So, what's better: five Zombies or four Ghouls?"
Harry thought about it--and the answer popped into his head!
"Four Ghouls beat five Zombies. . ." Harry paused as more answers came to him. "Unless all the Zombies are Tombstones, then the Zombies win." Harry had no idea how he knew that.
"Excellent!" Ron was ecstatic. He turned to Hermione, raising an eyebrow. "Hermione, do four Werewolves beat a pair of Liches?"
Harry knew the answer and looked at Hermione, who, looked unsure, at least that's what Harry thought, but he had never seen her unsure of the answer to any question, so it was hard to say.
"Well, four of one kind should beat two of another. . ." She sounded uncertain.
"No, Hermione," Harry said gently, really not wanting to correct her, but he definitely didn't want Ron to do it. "Only if the Werewolves were all of the Moon kind would they beat Liches. . .whatever they are."
Hermione looked very unhappy, and began paging through the huge book quickly.
"Correct, Harry," Ron said, pleased. "By the way, a Lich is an undead Wizard. You can see them better on the cards."
"Oh," said Harry, who didn't like the thought of that at all. It reminded him too much of Voldemort, and he didn't want to think about that. "Hey, where are the cards, anyway?"
"I thought you'd never ask," said Ron, eagerly. "How about a game of Ghost Poker?" Ron reached into his robes and pulled out a small wooden box that looked to Harry like, well, a tiny coffin. Ron opened the lid and the sound of tiny wailing suddenly filled the room as hundreds of miniature. . .ghosts shot out of the box and flew about the room.
"Wow." Harry couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Cool, isn't it?" Ron yelled over the moaning choir.
"Annoying, is more like it," said Hermione frowning. "Is this how you play Ghost Poker, by getting dizzy and going deaf? She yelled over the spectral tornado that spun about the room.
"Nah, that's just the deck shuffling." Ron cleared his throat. "Deal!" Suddenly all the ghosts whipped about and neatly stacked themselves on the table in a huge deck of cards that reached nearly to the ceiling. The deck then began to deal itself, several cards sliding out from the bottom of the deck to make three small piles on the table.
"Have a seat," said Ron, who pulled up a chair before one pile of cards. Harry and Hermione sat uncertainly, each before a set of cards. "And you'll need these," Ron said, pulling out what appeared to be white rubber gloves.
"What are they?" Harry took the gloves, and started to put them on but stopped. He couldn't feel his hands.
"They're ghost gloves," Ron assured him, "which is why you can't feel your hands, that way you can pick up the cards."
"Of course," said Hermione, who was looking at the gloves on her hands, fascinated, "because you can't touch a ghost with your hands."
Harry put the gloves on and reached for the cards. He could pick them up but couldn't feel them, if that made sense.
"I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a ghost?"
"What, Harry?" Ron asked.
"I wonder if being a ghost feels like this, like. . .nothing," said Harry.
"I hope not," said Hermione, holding her cards, but looking at Harry.
"Whatever," said Ron, who, being magic born, didn't look at things quite the same as people coming from the Muggle world. "Let's play some poker. . ."
It was a long afternoon, then a long evening, and by late into the night, Harry's head was swimming with ghosts. He had a smaller pile of beans than when they started, but his pile was much larger than Hermione's, who had a scant few beans left. Ron's pile was huge.
"Come on," Hermione, "are you going to make a bet or not?"
"I. . .I--oh, all right! I raise you," she paused counting her remaining beans, "forty-three." Hermione looked tired, tired and beaten.
"I will see you," said Ron shortly. "Harry, you in or out?"
Harry looked at his hand again. He had three Werewolves and a pair of Zombies, of moons and tombs, respectively, a good hand, but he knew--thanks to his membery--that a lot of high cards had not yet been dealt from the deck. . .just not which ones, and that made his decision for him.
"I fold," Harry said.
"Wise move," Harry, said Ron, chortling, as he laid his hand, which contained two Liches and two Vampyres. Hermione threw her cards on the table. She had four Mummies, but none of them were from the Sarcophagus suit.
"Ouch," said Ron in mock sympathy, reaching for her beans.
"I quit," said Hermione, who got up suddenly--
--and dropped her Membery on the floor.
Harry did not move or say a word.
"I think that would be a good idea," said Ron, "since you don't have anymore poofs."
"You think you're so smart, Ron, but how smart are you without your stupid rock?!"
"Well, smart enough not to play Ghost Poker, that's for sure," he replied evenly.
"Oh!" Hermione wheeled and ran from the room, which is just what Harry wanted, though he knew it wasn't what he should want.
"Fancy another game, Harry?" Ron asked, stretching.
"I'm beat," Harry said, yawning. "Let's turn in." He hoped his voice sounded tired.
It was dark, dark in the hallway, and, to Harry, it seemed dark in his head. He had waited for Ron to fall asleep, and then quietly left the bedroom with Ron's Membery, taken from his night stand. Hermione had not returned to the common room to pick up her stone. Harry had taken it without a second thought. Now he was looking for an unlocked classroom, a place where he could use the stones again. . .but this time he would not see things he shouldn't. He would see, and feel, feel was important, feel what it was like to have a Mum and Dad again. It was the only thing that mattered to him.
It was cold in the hallway and Harry pulled his invisibility cloak more tightly around him, dark, but for a few wane torches, dimmed for the hours after midnight. There had to be an unlocked room, out of the way, but it was hard to see, and he couldn't risk using his wand for light, besides he was holding the Memberies, two in his right hand, one in his left, to keep from accidentally making them work. He stopped and peered down the hall. The small flickering from the torches made shadows leap and move, and then one of the shadows detached from the walls.
Harry froze. There was something coming towards him, and as the shadow got closer he saw that it was a ghost, the Bloody Baron. Of all the ghosts at Hogwarts, he least liked the Baron, who was quiet in a creepy way. He was often seen muttering to himself as he stalked the halls. Harry stepped to the side to let him pass, even though a ghost couldn't bump into him like a person, but Harry didn't like that feeling when they passed through you. The Bloody Baron by Harry. And stopped. Harry tried to flatten himself against the wall, his hands holding the Memberies against his chest. He held his breath. Slowly, very slowly, the Bloody Baron, who should not have been able to see Harry, turned to face him and slowly glided forward. Harry could hear, as he drew nearer, the sound of whispering. . .and choking, and as the dim torch light fell on the spectral figure Harry saw something horrible. Blood, silvery, ghostly blood, bubbled from the Baron's mouth and dribbled down his chin, on to his robes. And a hand, a pale hand with fine rings, spattered with ethereal blood reached out, slowly, so slowly, as Harry recoiled, literally frozen in terror--the coldness.
"Tom," whispered the Baron, reaching for Harry, because he knew somehow, even though he should not, could not, where Harry was. "Tom, no--not true. . ." The voice was horrible, or horrified, Harry couldn't tell which, but the hand was cold, so cold as it reached for him, reach for his chest, and Harry, knew, knew that icy hand would reach inside him to stop his heart
"NO!"
Harry jumped and fell, and crawled quickly away, and behind him he saw the Baron, and another ghost.
"No, Baron," said Myrtle the Ghost, in a shaking, but firm voice. The Baron turned towards Harry and began to move forward, but Myrtle put herself between them. "Dumbledore will cast you out," she said, and the Baron stopped. "I will tell him, and he will cast you out for all time." The Baron hesitated, and Harry saw the vacant eyes glow a ghastly white, causing Myrtle to wince, but she did not move. Finally, the Baron turned and drifted off without looking back. Myrtle sighed and was quiet for a moment before she spoke. "You shouldn't do what you are doing anymore Harry. You better go back to Gryffindor."
Hermione and Ron were waiting for him.
Still shaken he had gone through the portrait hole, his head filled with images of the Bloody Baron, and questions Myrtle refused to answer. So deep in thought was Harry, he would have walked right by his friends, had Ron not yelled out when the portrait door closed.
"You stole my Membery!" Ron yelled in Harry's general direction, unable to see him because Harry was wearing his cloak. His face was red with anger. Hermione stood with her arms crossed.
"I only borrowed them," Harry said quietly, removing his cloak.
"Where is it? Give it to me!" Ron grabbed the stone from Harry, checking to make sure it was undamaged.
"Why, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly.
"You left your stone behind on purpose, didn't you?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded.
"I thought you were my friend, Harry!" Ron was still quite loud and angry.
"Ron--" Hermione began to speak, but Ron cut her off.
"No, don't tell me Hermione," Ron told her, and then turned back to Harry. "You stole my--"
"I just wanted to see my parents," Harry said, walking over to a chair and dropping in it and staring into the fireplace.
"What?" Ron was caught off guard. He was not expecting that.
"Is that what happens when you have three stones, Harry?" Hermione asked, moving to a chair near him. "You remember your parents?"
"What do you mean?" Ron asked. He didn't sound so sure of himself, but he was still upset, and it made Harry wonder if he wasn't the only one who had problems with his Membery.
Harry confessed. "When I touch all three of them, I--it's like I am back with my parents, like they are still alive."
"You mean you remember them?" Ron didn't understand.
"No, it's like I am a little baby again, living the memories, memories I can't remember now--like they were in some woods, or some hills, I guess, some place that my Dad said reminded him of the view from one of the towers at Hogwarts, the Tower of Enchantment."
"The Tower of Enchantment," murmured Hermione thoughtfully.
"Yeah, but then. . .stuff happened, stuff that I wasn't supposed to see--I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the whole thing." Harry felt ashamed.
Ron stood for a moment, and, perhaps because he was a still a child, someone not old enough to really understand bitterness and grudges and other adult stuff adult, he looked at Harry Potter, his best friend, and saw only that Harry was sad, and that was all that really mattered.
"It's okay," he said, "and. . .I'm sorry, too, for yelling at you, Harry. It's just that, well, I never have been good at anything, like you are at Quidditch, or you, Hermione, at school." Ron, much to Harry's relief, was smiling at him.
"Harry," Hermione began firmly, "I don't think you should be doing that anymore with the Memberies. It's not good for you."
Harry smiled. "That's kind of what Myrtle said."
"Myrtle?" Hermione asked, frowning.
"Yeah, it was really strange."
Harry related the story to them, from the Bloody Baron, to Myrtle's defense of him, and how they saw him even though he was using his cloak, but Hermione disagreed.
"Harry, I don't think they saw you," said Hermione.
"Hermione, of course, they saw him," argued Ron, "the Bloody Baron was going to kill him!"
"He did reach right for my heart. It was very cold," Harry said and shuddered.
"I think he was reaching for the stones. Remember that reference to them, something in the Encyclopedia Magicka?"
"We couldn't find that volume, Hermione," Ron said.
"Something about those stones attracts ghosts. . .something," Hermione continued, her face scrunched up in concentration, "and then you said the Baron said something about someone named Tom. . ."
"Harry, you know anybody named Tom?" Ron looked at Harry.
"Nope," said Harry, but there was something nagging at him.
"Tom," whispered Hermione, suddenly going pale.
"What?" Ron asked, and it came to Harry then, too.
"Tom Riddle," he said quietly.
"Ron, watch your elbow," Hermione hissed, bringing a hand up to her forehead.
"Sorry," whispered Ron, trying to crouch down, so that he would not pull the invisibility cloak to high. It would look very strange if three pairs of feet were seen strolling the halls at night.
"We're there," said Harry, as they slipped inside the Library. He checked the Marauder's Map to make sure no one was around and the slid the cloak off.
"That's much better," Hermione breathed, shaking her head. "Okay, let's find that encyclopedia." Hermione was clearly excited at the prospect of breaking rules, very much out of character for her, or so Harry thought.
"Don't like the sneaking about much, unless it's sneaking around a library," teased Ron, who, obviously thought so too.
"Ron! I--"
"Easy, Ron," said Harry. "It's a good idea, searching the Library for 27th volume. You think it's in the restricted section, Hermione?" Harry asked.
"It makes sense," she replied.
"Well, then," said Harry, "I'll fetch it," and he started to don the invisibility cloak in order to get past the guardian spells on the restricted section of the library.
"Uh, Harry, it might be quicker if I went and looked," said Hermione.
"You just want to get your hands on some new books," Ron laughed.
"Ron, that's not true," Hermione replied hotly. "It so happens I have a lot of experience at searching for books, that's all."
"I understand," Harry said, trying not to smile. "Here you go," and he handed her the cloak. "Ron and I will keep watch."
Hermione put the cloak on and immediately vanished.
"And don't come out with an armload of books!" Ron whispered loudly into the air.
Ron and Harry went back to the door and watched the map, waiting for Hermione, and after what seemed like forever she appeared in the Library, book in hand.
"Hermione, you got it," congratulated Ron.
"Yeah, good job, Hermione," added Harry.
"It's not the book. I couldn't find it." By the look on her face, Hermione obviously felt like she had let them down.
"What book is that, then?" Ron asked.
She pursed her lips, as if considering for a final time some action. "It's for you, Harry," she said, finally.
"Me?" Harry was confused.
"Yes, you see, as I was searching," and her face suddenly became very animated, "and you would not believe all the books we aren't allowed to see! It's a crime, and I intend to have a word with the Headmaster about it, I mean, censorship is--"
"Hermione, you can tell us about your love life later," Ron said, exasperated. "What did find?"
"This," she said, spinning the book on the table so Harry and Ron could see its title, An Architectural Review of Hogwarts.
"What does this have to do with me?" Harry was still quite puzzled.
"It tells you about the towers in Hogwarts," Hermione said.
"And?" Ron asked.
"It talks about the Tower of Enchantment."
"It does?" Harry was suddenly very interested.
"You see, there is no Tower of Enchantment, at least not in the books they let the students read--really, that needs to be addressed with the Board of Governors." Hermione was quite irritated.
"Where is the Tower of Enchantment, Hermione?" Harry asked anxiously.
"They changed it's name. It's the Forbidden Tower, and it's off limits to students. It's supposed to be dilapidated and dangerous, at least according to current printed matter." Hermione said the last with a certain newfound skepticism.
"Right," said Ron, "Fancy a nighttime stroll, Harry?" Ron had that look.
"Definitely," replied Harry.
Hermione sighed.
The tower entrance was closed and locked, a sign posted above the door in huge glowing letters said: NO ADMITTANCE DANGER DO NOT ENTER. A huge bar was set across the door.
"We really shouldn't be doing this," Hermione said resignedly.
"Yeah, okay, point taken," Ron said, even as he removed the heavy bar. The door was not locked. "After you, Harry," he said, ushering with his arm. Harry lit his wand and pushed opened the creaky door. It was very dusty inside, as no one had been in here in a very long time. It reminded him of the passage to the Membery chamber. He stepped inside, followed by Hermione and Ron. The door closed behind them, and Ron turned quickly to see if it locked, but their was no lock. It pushed right open. He let it close again.
"Lead on, Harry," Ron said encouragingly.
"I have a bad feeling about this," said Hermione.
"That was lunch. I have it, too," Ron said, then burped loudly. "Sorry."
Harry smiled and they began to climb, up and around the staircase, the stone wall of the tower on one side, the central pillar of stone running up from the ground in the middle, which meant that they didn't have to worry about falling. They continued to climb upward, circling around and around, ever upward.
"Hey, how tall is this tower, Hermione," Ron said, breathing heavily after they had been climbing for several minutes.
"Just over a hundred feet," Hermione replied breathlessly.
"It seems like we've climbed at least that far," Harry said, also nearly out of breath.
"Hey, look," Ron said, pointing at the stairs, "I see footprints." Harry pointed his softly glowing wand, and there were footprints in the thick dust of the stairs.
"I guess somebody has been up here recently," Ron added.
"But. . .there weren't any footprints when we started," Harry said slowly.
"Oh, no, oh, no," said Hermione, reaching into her robes for something quickly. She pulled out a piece of chalk for marking spell symbols and made a mark on the wall.
"Why did you do that?" Ron asked innocently.
"Just go," said Hermione impatiently. "Go on," she said, almost scolding them. They climbed the stairs, up and around, and shortly they came to a spot with a mark on the wall.
"I knew it," said Hermione, sinking to the steps.
"Uh, oh," said Harry.
"But, how. . .oh, I get it. The tower is cursed, so you can't get to the top."
"Yeah, looks like," said Harry, who was looking at Hermione sitting with her head in her hands.
"Oh, it's cursed all right." She didn't even look up.
"So we go back down, no big deal," Ron said, and looked at Harry. "Sorry, Harry."
"It's okay," said Harry. "Hermione? Shouldn't we be going back down now?" Harry felt uneasy.
"Oh, we are going down all right. Go ahead," and she waved at them, "go on. I'll catch up to you." Hermione laughed a laugh that wasn't funny.
"Whatever," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Let's go, Harry," and he walked past Hermione and descended. Harry heard his footsteps fade away below, and then, almost immediately, he heard the sound of footsteps growing louder from above.
"Hey! How did you--uh, oh," Ron said, from the stairwell above them, finally understanding.
"I told you I had a bad feeling about this," said Hermione, trying to be smug, but not succeeding very well.
Harry and Ron sat down on the steps near her.
Harry was not sure how long they had been in the Forbidden Tower, but he was getting hungry, and definitely thirsty. They had tried everything they could think of. Two went up while one went down and they met in the middle. They tried closing their eyes and walking down, but, not only did that fail, Ron fell and skinned his knee. They linked hands and spread out, and Harry could just barely seen Ron below, pulling Hermione as he felt a tug up from where Ron actually was. Nothing worked.
"Tell me again, Hermione, how it works," Ron said tiredly.
"It's a teleport trap," Hermione spoke in monotone. "Once you get past a certain point you are back where you started."
"There must be something. . ." Ron looked up suddenly. "How about apparating?"
"Besides the fact that only seventh years are taught that spell, and you would most likely end up with your head in the ceiling if you tried, you can't apparate on the Hogwarts grounds," Hermione said lifelessly.
"There must be something," Harry said, though he didn't really feel like there was something, but he wanted to be positive.
"Yeah," agreed Ron, fingering his Membery. "If I could just remember. . ."
Hermione laughed bitterly.
Harry sat bolt upright. "Hermione, do you have your Membery," he said excitedly, hoping that she did.
"I don't really fancy a game of poker while I'm dying of thirst, Harry, so I don't--"
"Do you have it?" Harry asked again.
"Yes, I do, so?"
"Back in the castle, in that hallway, the Bloody Baron was drawn to the three stones being close together."
"Great, Harry, the Baron can come here and freeze our hearts, and maybe we could become ghosts, at least then we could get out of here. Is that the plan?" Ron asked sarcastically.
"But Myrtle was drawn to them, too." Harry looked at Hermione.
"That," Hermione said, pausing, "might work." She sounded much less hopeless, and got her stone out to give it to Harry.
Harry turned to Ron, who looked suspicious.
"Your not going to hurt it, are you," he said, holding it tightly in his fist.
"Ron Weasley I am not going to spend the rest of winter break trapped in this tower with you!" Hermione was much more animated now, and Ron, grudgingly, gave out his stone. "Harry, make sure you don't touch all three of them."
"I won't." Harry carefully held two in one hand, not touching, and one in the other, close together but not touching.
They waited for what seemed liked hours, but was probably minutes.
"You're not supposed to be here," came the voice of Myrtle the Ghost. "Not that I care."
"Myrtle you saved us!" Ron was on his feet looking around for Myrtle.
"I did?" Myrtle asked, fading in above them on the stairs.
"Yes, Myrtle," said Hermione stiffly, rising to her feet. "You need to go get Hagrid and get him to open the door."
"I do?" Myrtle's eyes narrowed as she looked at Hermione. "What if I don't want to?"
"Please, Myrtle," said Harry, trying to defuse another fight between Hermione and Myrtle. "We're hungry, and very thirsty."
"Yeah, Myrtle, come on. You can't leave us up here," Ron looked very tired.
Myrtle wavered, and Harry could tell she was going to rescue them, then Hermione had to open her mouth.
"That's right, Myrtle," she said, "you can't leave us here. You have to get Hagrid. It's required by the school that you aid students in danger."
"Hermione," began Harry, feeling suddenly very irritated with her.
"Is that so," said Myrtle, who flew down to face Hermione squarely.
"Yes. It's a geas, so you must, so it's no use playing games. Now would you please get Hagrid, or do we have to invoke the geas?" Hermione crossed her arms and Harry felt his stomach turn.
Myrtle stared at Hermione for several seconds before she spoke. "Very well," she said and faded out.
"Hermione, why did you do that?" Harry asked, exasperated.
"Yeah, Hermione, what if she leaves us up here?" Ron was irritated, too.
"I told you, she can't, and I don't like how she has acted from the beginning with the Memberies. Half of this is all her fault."
Harry didn't say anything, because he thought Myrtle had been acting strange, too, but he wished Hermione had been a little nicer, and he wondered how long they would have to wait for rescue.
It wasn't long. They heard the faint sound of the door opening and ran down the stairs.
"Hagrid! Are you a sight for sore--" Ron stopped short, and they all bumped him at the foot of the stairs.
"I am sorry to disappoint you, Weasley," said Professor Snape. Moaning Myrtle was floating right behind him, looking very smug.
"I believe this discharges my required duty, Professor." Myrtle said the last very sarcastically.
"Indeed," said Snape, dismissing her, and Myrtle vanished. "Let us see," he continued, clearly enjoying the moment. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, to begin with, and detention of course." he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You should have stayed in the Library, Weasley, and studied potions with Granger. I see Potter has led you both astray again." Harry hated him for that, but stood silently, knowing better than to say anything.
"I'm pretty much finished studying potions, Professor," Ron said cooly. Harry turned to look at him, and saw that Hermione's mouth had just fallen open as she also stared at Ron.
"What did you say?" Snape asked, his lips curling in the beginning of a mean smile.
"I've gone just about as far as I can go with potions," Ron continued, brushing off his robes nonchalantly.
"Ron!" Hermione hissed at him.
"Really," said Snape, who was smiling openly now, and Harry thought it an ugly thing. "Interesting. Well, perhaps you could prepare a short summary of what you have learned." Harry was hoping against hope that Ron would get his sanity back before he opened his mouth. He didn't.
"It would be a privilege," Ron said, smiling back.
"Very well," said Snape, enjoying the conversation like fine wine. "Let's see. . .you answered a question previously for me. . .ah! If you could, please tell me the single most important potions ingredient known. And I will even give you a hint The answer resides in the Complete Guide to Potions.
Hermione groaned.
"No problem," said Ron, unperturbed. "Would Monday be okay?" Harry heard Hermione groan again, and wondered if he looked like she sounded.
"Yes," said Snape, looking as if he was trying not to laugh aloud. "Yes, Monday would be fine." And then he did laugh and backed out of the tower. "You may return to Gryffindor," he said, still smiling, as he made to secure the door to the tower.
Hermione didn't say a word all the way back to Gryffindor, and neither did Harry. He wasn't sure how difficult a task Snape had set out for them, but, from looking at Hermione, it could not be good. Ron acted as if nothing had happened.
"Okay," he began," talking to himself as much as them, "we need to get a good night's, er, day's sleep." It was nearly dawn, "so we'll be ready for Peeves." They continued down the halls, Ron thinking aloud. "We need to find out, maybe, from Nick, where the party is, and what time." They got to the tower and went inside. Hermione fell into a chair and covered her face with her hands.
"We're dead," said in a muffled voice from behind her hands.
"Oh, Hermione, don't worry about it," said Ron easily. "Peeves is deadmeat."
"Why are we dead?" Harry asked her.
She dropped her hands and looked at Harry. "The Complete Guide to Potions is. . .complete! It's huge. There are thousands and thousands of potions, all the potions known, or at least all they will tell us, are in it." She said the last with a trace of bitterness.
"No problem. We have these," Ron said, holding out his Membery. It was more than Hermione could stand. She jumped up.
"This," she said, pulling out her Membery, "got us into this mess. I am through with these things." She unclasped the necklace and threw the stone onto the table.
"But we do have a real problem, poofs," Ron continued, as if Hermione hadn't said a word.
"Oh, you!" Hermione turned and stalked off without saying another word.
"What are you talking about, Ron." Harry was beginning to wonder if Ron hadn't lost it.
"Poofs. Money for at Peeves Poker Party."
"Oh, I had forgotten about that, well, I have plenty of gold," Harry said.
"Ghosts don't want gold. They can find that without too much trouble, and they can't really do anything with it, anyway."
"Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. What are we going to do, then?"
"Well, I think Hermione just gave us an answer." Ron reached over and picked up the Membery by its chain.
"Trade the Membery?" Harry didn't like the idea, but it made sense.
"I can hardly wait." Ron was acting like he was king of the world. "By this time tomorrows, Hagrid will have his voice, and Nick will get his head."
They didn't have to find Nick to find Peeves Poker Party, as every ghost seemed to know about it. It was in what was presumably Peeves' ghostly abode, deep in the dungeons under Hogwarts. It was not a particularly clean place, even for ghosts who have no possessions with which to make trash. There were several ghosts, whom Harry and Ron had never seen, sitting around a table, with Peeves, who wore a ghostly poker hat, the rim shading his eyes. A crowd of ghosts, including the the Bloody Baron, stood around watching the game. Apparently ghosts had quite a bit of time on their hands, which made sense in that they were all dead. One of the ghosts noticed them and whispered, and all conversation stopped.
"My word!" Peeves looked up, surprised and amused to see them. "Potty and Weezer have paid me a visit."
"Harry, Ron, you must leave here immediately," Nick's head said, which was sitting in a cage hanging from the ceiling.
"Nick, boy," said Peeves, in Hagrid's voice. "Ye better watch yer mouth." Peeves pulled out a ghostly cover and placed it over the cage. They could see Nick's head through it, but the material cut off the sound, so all they saw were his lips moving. It was just as well. Harry didn't want to argue with him.
"We want to play poker," Ron said confidently. "We're her to win back Hagrid's voice and Nick's head." Nick stopped shouting at them for a moment from his cage to smile but shook his head.
There was ghostly laughter all around the table.
"Another people," chortled a very tall ghost with, what appeared to be, a dagger sticking out of his back.
"You would sound pretty silly with a voice like that," said a very short ghost with a top hat, short because he ended at the waist.
"You want to play poker?" Peeves was surprised, but did not immediately dismiss the idea, which is something they had worried about. "What you got to bet? Galleons are no good here." He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Ron looked at Harry. Harry reached into a pocket and withdrew the Membery. "We have this."
There was general ghostly murmur, and it quickly got quite cold as the ghosts crowded around them.
"Stop right there," came a voice from the doorway. It was Hermione. "That belongs to me."
"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Harry was stunned. He had thought she had sworn off the whole plan.
"Yeah, you threw away your, er, the Membery," Ron added, correcting himself, so as not to give away the plan.
"I most certainly did not," she said abruptly, walking into the room and taking the Membery from Harry. "Of course, I don't really want it, so for, say, three hundred ghost Galleons, and three seats at the table, I would sell it."
Again there was an excited murmur, as, apparently, three hundred ghost Galleons was quite a sum.
"Three hundred!" Peeves seemed shocked. "I'll give you exactly a tenth that." He was smiling thinly.
"No deal," said Hermione.
"Hermione!" Ron couldn't believe it, and neither could Harry. This was their only chance to help Hagrid and Nick.
"Hermione--" Harry began, but she cut him off.
"No, Harry. I found this stone, and it's the only one of it's kind, so three hundred Galleons is cheap." Ron started to open his mouth but she gave him a warning look. Harry followed her gaze, to Peeves, who was being whispered to by the Bloody Baron, and looking none to happy about it.
"All right, then," Peeves said, grudgingly, "three hundred, and three seats at the table." He broke into a wicked smile. "Ye people dona play poker to well, anyhoo," Peeves said in Hagrid's voice, and all the ghosts laughed.
They used their wands to move three huge stones, fallen from a wall, over to the table, which appeared to have formerly been a part of the ceiling and sat down. Hermione placed the Membery on the table, all ghostly eyes upon it.
"You get the stone when we are done here," she said firmly.
Peeves grimaced. "All righty, then," and he reached under the table for a bag, and poured out three huge piles of coins, ghostly coins that made an echoing tinkle upon the table. The three of them put on their ghost gloves.
"Ready, are we?" Peeves asked. They each nodded. Peeves snapped his fingers, and from the center of the table, through the table, rose a stack of cards. Up, up, up it went until it reached the ceiling. "Shuffle," he said, quickly placing his hands over his hears, apparently the wailing cards bothered him, too. And shuffle they did, around the room went the tornado of tiny ghost cards, practically blinding everyone, ghosts included.
"Deal," yelled Peeves, and the cards zoomed back into a stack on the table, thirteen cards for each player jumping off the top and landing face down in front of each of them.
Harry picked up his cards and studied them, as did everyone else, especially Peeves, who had a look of deep concentration on his face. Harry's own claw included two Dopplegangers, which he tapped, and they changed to Vampyres, being wild cards they could be anything, and all of the coffin suit. That made four Vampyres, total, not bad at all. He looked over at Ron, who was calmly studying his cards, and Hermione, who looked a bit nervous. She tried to bite her nails with the other hand, but wearing ghost gloves, just clicked her teeth.
"Zoomus, it's your bid," said Peeves, Zoomus being the ghost with a dagger in his back.
"Two," said Zoomus, throwing a couple of pieces of ghost gold on the table.
"Raise you two," said the half-ghost, whose name was Drunk Al, the sound sleeper, who, had, according to his own introduction, fallen asleep on railroad tracks one night and awoke the next morning a ghost in two pieces. Harry wondered if Peeves had won that ghost's bottom, and what in the world you did with a ghost's bottom?
"I'm in," said Ron.
"Me, too," said Harry.
Hermione hesitated.
"Hermy-Wormy, we are waiting," Peeves said, in a sing-song voice.
"Er, I'm in," she said, and threw four pieces on the table.
"Well, dear, dear, dear," said Peeves, scratching his ear, "I will fold, I believe. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged. It was very unusual to fold before you turned back some of your cards. You kept some and got new ones, bet again, and then somebody won. Peeves must have had no good cards at all, which was too bad, because Harry had an excellent hand after turning back five cards. He had a total of five Vampyres, and won easily.
The next hand Peeves won, then Ron, then Ron again. Ron won a lot, as did Peeves, then Harry, then one of the other ghosts. Only Hermione failed to win much, and it seemed to effect her more and more. The more she lost the harder time she had concentrating.
"Er, let's see, mummy's beat ghouls. . .unless, no that's not right," Hermione muttered, during one such round of play.
"Dummymone," teased Peeves, "Mebe ye need Hagrid's book," he finished in Hagrid's voice, getting laughs from the watching ghosts.
"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Peeves," said Ron, cooly, who was the only one who seemed to be able to beat Peeves, no doubt his Membery helping him a great deal. And as the game progressed this became all the more evident. Only Ron and Peeves made money; everyone else, quickly or slowly, lost ground against them.
And so it went.
Harry was tired. He had lost a great deal of his money, though not as much as Hermione, who was nearly out. She looked terribly upset, her idea of being able to play poker without a Membery not turning out at all the way she had expected. Harry yawned, and stretched while holding his cards, pulling them close to his chest, and the strangest thing happened. Suddenly, one of the cards wiggled against him, trying to get under his robes. He pulled the cards back and it stopped. It was then he noticed Peeves staring at him rather intently, then looking back to his cards when Harry looked at him.
"Harry, it's on you," prompted Ron.
"Huh? Oh yeah, er, I'm in I guess."
And then it was Hermione's turn. "I. . .don't have enough," she said, anxiously counting her remaining money.
"Then yer out," said Peeves, in Hagrid's voice.
"I can loan you some," said Ron, pushing coins in her direction.
"No, you can't," said Peeves, "No team play. It's House Rules." The watching crowd of ghosts were smiling and whispering among themselves.
"But, I know I can win this hand!"
Harry felt sorry for her. It was very hard for Hermione to admit she wasn't good at something like this. She thought she could succeed at ghost poker by brains alone.
"Well, then," said Peeves, smiling large, "the House Rules do permit the use of collateral for single bets." All the other ghosts leaned forward, and Harry noticed the head of Nick yelling and rocking in the cage above them, shouting silently.
"Collateral?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, something you have, of fair value, that you might bet, something you would give up until, oh, the ned of winter break." Peeves smiled at her with a big toothy grin.
"Hermione, no!" Harry saw the danger.
"Yeah, Hermione, you should just quit. I can take care of Peeves," said Ron, trying to be helpful, and saying the exact wrong thing.
"What would I have to bet?" Hermione grimaced.
"Well," said Peeves, "Peeves admits he is not the smartest ghost in the world, that he does."
"Smart?" Hermione said, going very pale.
"No. She is not going to bet her brains," said Harry, who threw down his cards hard on the table.
Peeves jumped and grabbed his head. "Ah, what are--ah, got a bit of a pain in the head," he said. Harry stared at him, and then looked at his cards, then looked at Peeves.
"You better go, Hermione," Ron said. "We'll meet you back upstairs when this is finished." Ron stared hard at Peeves, obviously enjoying his position as leader of the group for once.
"I--I know I can win. . .I'll bet my. . .brains for the rest of winter break on it!" Even as she said the last, there was a whizzing noise around her, and from Hermione's head a trail of white emerged to circle around the room and settle as a mist on the table, atop the pile of ghost gold.
"Let's see what you got, Hermi-baby," said Peeves, grinning hugely.
"Four Vampyres of Coffins," said Hermione, exhaling, and shaking slightly. Harry sighed in relief.
"Beats me," said Ron, smiling encouragingly at her.
Peeves frowned. "That's hard to beat," he said, in a dejected voice.
Hermione practically melted with relief, and reached for her winnings.
"Unless," said Peeves, placing his cards on the table, "you had three Liches of Wands."
"What?" Hermione could not believe it. And just like that the white mist flew straight into Peeves' head, making him blink.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked quickly.
"How do you feel?" Ron asked.
"I feel. . .fine," she said, shrugging, reaching up to her head. "Nothing happened."
"Well, I wouldn't say that," said Peeves, who now looked more devious, sly, and cunning than he ever had before. "Hermione, a simple Arithmancy question: what is the function of m over x during the 3/4 moon?"
Hermione blinked. "That's easy, it's. . ." Hermione trailed off and shook her head.
"What is the second most important ingredient in a speed potion?" Peeves asked.
"Why it's. . ." Hermione frowned, concentrating very hard it seemed.
"Essence of Quicksilver," Ron said, trying to be helpful.
She looked at him, then Harry, then seemed to be searching, looking for something. "I can't. . .remember. . .things," she said, suddenly becoming very scared. "And Ara--Arer--"
"Arithmancy," corrected Peeves, helpfully.
"Errormancy--I--math is hard!" Hermione wailed. "I'm stupid! I don't know anything!" Hermione cried, hitting her hands on the table in a fit, sending cards flying everywhere."
"Blast!" Peeves yelled, reaching for his head, then quickly lowering his hand. Harry looked sharply at him, and then he understood--he knew how Peeves was cheating!
Harry reached down to pick up he cards, putting them close to his chest, close to his Membery, and--there--one wiggled, and he had the other one. He had two cards that were not cards, but were parts of an actual ghost. He had Peeves ears.
"Oh, I'm stupid, stupid, stupid," Hermione wailed, jumping up from her seat and running through several ghosts to get out the door, her echoing cries fading slowly in the distance.
"Hermione!" Ron yelled, starting to rise, and Harry quickly, stuck Peeves' ears--blech--under his robes, up near his neck. No one saw him, and ge tossed the other cards back on the table.
"Well, that's it for me," Harry, said, trying to sound calm. "It's up to you Ron."
Ron looked at him.
"Potter," Peeves hissed, "I don't know what you think your doing, but--"
"I'll tell them," Harry whispered, hand over mouth, and by the way Peeves froze, he apparently heard. "I'm out of poofs, and I don't have anything to bet, so I'll just watch while you and Ron play, " he sail aloud.
A ghostly sweat broke out on Peeves' face.
"Well, actually," Peeves is feeling a bit peaked, what with all these brains in his head and, maybe it's time to quit. . ." He looked around at the other ghosts, who were looking at him.
"Is that the reason?" asked Harry, innocently. "I think you should play until there is a winner."
"Yeah, Peeves," added Ron. "You're not scared are you?"
Peeves gulped.
"That is the House Rules," said Zoomus suspiciously.
"Yeah," Al agreed, leaning over to Peeves, looking at him closely. The other ghosts were murmuring quite loudly now.
Peeves rubbed the sweat from his brow.
"Let's play," he grumbled.
And it wasn't long before Ron had won everything, the Membery, Hagrid's voice, and Nick's head.
"Ron," said Nick, near tears, "I can't thank you enough,"
"It wasn't anything," said, Ron, who, was maybe just a little bit proud of himself. Harry thought that was okay.
"Ron, we need to go see Hermione," Harry interrupted the puffing up, as too much pride was not a good thing.
"Oh, yeah," Ron said, "Hey, you two, Ron said, to the other two ghosts." They looked at him, frowning. They had lost everything. "Hear you go," he said and pushed his winnings towards the astonished ghosts. "Come on, Harry, let's go." Ron got up and quickly left the chamber, Harry following after him. He quickly removed the cards shaped like Peeves' ears, and threw them in the hall.
The last thing Harry Heard, as he left was, Peeves' voice.
"Now, now, Baron, I can explain. . ."
Harry and Ron were so intent on getting back to Gryffindor to see Hermione that they ran right past her, not that they would have recognized her had they looked her square in the face.
"Harry! Ron!" Hermione yelled, and the two skidded to a halt, bumping into one another.
"Hermione?" Ron's mouth hung open.
"What happened to you?" Harry asked in amazement.
Hermione had changed. Her clothes, her face, her hair, everything was different. She normally wore rather plain robes, and her hair was quite bushy, but now she was dressed in shimmery purple robes, with shoes to match, and pink ribbons in her hair, hair that had been thoroughly brushed.
"Will you stop that!" Hermione blushed furiously under their stares. "I knew should have changed clothes first."
"Hermione, are you wearing lipstick?" Ron leaned forward, squinting at her.
"And washed my face," Hermione muttered.
"What got into you?" Harry could not get over the difference. It was quite unsettling.
"Not in, out. It was terrible," she said with great feeling. "I ran back to Gryffindor crying, and right to my room, and cried until I guess I fell asleep. When I woke up I still felt awful, but I couldn't remember why. I tried to figure it out, to think about it. . .but thinking. . .was hard." Hermione shivered involuntarily. "I got up, and then I saw myself in the dresser mirror, and. . .I thought I was hideous."
Ron and Harry looked at her as if she was making no sense whatsoever.
"I know, I know," she continued, "It's stupid, but then, being stupid, I thought that I was unhappy because of the way I looked, that my hair and face and clothes were ugly. So I washed up, and borrowed some of Parvati Patils clothes." She said the last with great distaste, looking at the purple dress and shoes she was wearing. "Then I set about brushing my hair, for hours, and it felt. . .really good--like it feels when I am smart and studying--and then I put on some makeup and lipstick, and I felt better."
"Women are crazy," said Ron, his forehead wrinkling, as he tried in vain to comprehend madness.
"Tell me about it," Hermione agreed, rolling her eyes, and then she looked at Harry. "But what happened? I was sitting in front of the mirror, and all of a sudden I was smart again, and that's when I ran back towards the dungeon."
Harry, with many interruptions from Ron detailing key plays in the poker game, recounted how her outburst, and the actions of certain cards in trying to get closer to the Memberies, led to the answer, that Peeves had transfigured his ears to look like cards, and then 'listened' to the cards talking among themselves.
"Of course," Hermione said, looking very perturbed. "He cheated, but it's not really transfiguration. Ghosts have no substance, so their form is mutable, and not spatially dependent, thus they can appear multi-existent."
Harry and Ron stared at her again. It looked like she was back to 'normal'.
Hermione sighed. "They don't have a set shape because they don't have bodies, so they can pass through walls and stuff, like Nick's head being in one place and his body in another."
Harry and Ron nodded in understanding.
"We did it!" Ron yelled, then.
"Yeah, we did," Harry said, nodding to Hermione.
"Yes, we did indeed," agreed Hermione.
Harry and Ron slept very late. By the time they awoke breakfast was quite out of the question and lunch would be something of a close call unless they hurried. They dressed, bleary-eyed, but still jubilant from the previous night, and stumbled down the stairs into the common room. There they found Hermione hunched over a table surrounded by scraps of parchment, notes, and nose in a book, The Complete Guide to Potions, Unlimited Edition.
"Hermione, give it a rest, will you?" Ron stretched and rubbed his face.
Hermione looked up at them through bloodshot eyes. "Did you forget about the detention Snape gave us?"
"Oh, that," said, Ron, waving a hand dismissively, eliciting a glare from her.
"Of course not," said Harry quickly, who had in fact forgotten completely, but was definitely not going to admit that to Hermione. "It's just time for lunch."
"Besides," added Ron, "by the look of that little book, you don't even need a Membery for this detention."
"Lunch," Hermione snorted. "This book is recursive," she said, waving the tiny tome in their direction.
"Oh, yeah," said Ron, somewhat disinterestedly. "What's the curse?"
Hermione blinked, and laughed, in a kind of crazy way, or so it seemed to Harry. "Here," she said, handing the book to Harry, "just open it up."
Harry opened the book, which was quite light, to the table of contents. "There are only ten chapters," he noted, thinking that didn't seem right.
Hermione had a wintry smile on her face. "Open one of those chapters."
Harry did, and saw ten more chapters. That was odd. He opened the book again, and found ten more chapters. It was then he had a very bad feeling.
"Huh," said Ron, over his shoulder. Harry closed the book and turned it over in his hands. It didn't look all that thick.
"It's recursive," Hermione said again.
"Er, yes," said Harry, "but how many pages does it have?"
Hermione said something under her breath that Harry did not think girls said.
"Let me see that, Harry," Ron said, taking the book, and flipping the pages under thumb. The buzzing from the quickly turning pages was the only sound in the room, and it went on, and on, and on.
"Recursive magic is spatial in nature and quite powerful," began Hermione, in that Professor McGonagal voice that put Harry's teeth on edge, "meaning, in this case, that there are more pages than can fit in the book."
"How many pages?" Harry had a very bad feeling.
"Nobody knows," Hermione replied, slumping into her chair in defeat.
"Well, I have some pretty powerful magic, myself." Ron dropped the book and reached into his robes to pull out his Membery.
Hermione sat up. "Ron, I don't think mixing powerful magics is a good idea. These two are opposites."
"Just get ready to take notes," Ron said confidently, sitting down with book and Membery, a look of non-concentration on his face.
"Ron, maybe we should--" Harry was just beginning to pick up on Hermione's anxiety when it happened.
Harry was cut off by the sudden illumination of the Membery, which was glowing brighter than he had ever seen it. A sweat had broken out on Ron's forehead, and his eyes were darting back and forth as the pages flipped by in a blur.
"No, Ron!" Hermione yelled, jumping up.
"Yeah, Ron, stop it," Harry said.
Ron ignored them, gripping his Membery tightly in hand, it's light exploding from between his fingers, covering his features in a hot, red light, and all the time the pages whipped by, the never ending parade of pages, like a windstorm of parchment. Harry and Hermione stood watching, afraid to do anything. What would happen if they broke his unconcentration? What would happen if they didn't?
Suddenly there was a flash.
"Ron!" Harry and Hermione shouted, as Ron flew backward on to the couch, the table, book, parchments flying away from him. They both ran over to Ron who lay on the couch insensate.
"Ron!" They yelled again, standing over him, as he shook, like a puppet on strings, and then jumped up, and sat back down, eyes wide open.
"Whoa," Ron breathed.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Ron Weasley," Hermione began, sounding close to tears, "you are so stupid."
"I'm okay," Ron said, rubbing his face. "I just over did it." He stopped, then felt for his Membery. "Hey, where is it?" He started looking around.
"Ron, no more! You have got to stop playing with that thing." Hermione's fear was quickly turning to anger.
"Here it is," said Harry, going to pick the Membery up by the wall where it landed. "But I think you should listen to Hermione."
"Yeah, sure," Ron replied, sarcastically, "and then we can all sit down for a good read in the library. Give it here, Harry."
Hermione looked furious.
Harry held out the Membery, but when Ron reached for it the stone jumped out of the way.
"Huh?" Harry dropped it.
Ron reached down to pick it up. And it slid across the floor towards Hermione. It was glowing an angry red.
"What is going on?" Ron was completely lost.
"Wait, Ron," said Hermione, sounding scared. "Something's not right." She bent down and carefully picked up the stone by the chain. The glow lessened.
"Give it here," Ron said, stepping forward. The Membery glowed bright red and floated away from his hand, pulling the chain in Hermione's hand.
"No, Ron! Something is wrong."
Ron grabbed at the stone, and caught it.
"Ah!" Ron screamed, pulling his hand away, and putting it in his mouth. The Membery landed on the floor.
"What happened?" Harry ran between them.
"It burned me," Ron mumbled, then pulled his hand out of his mouth to wave it in the air.
"Hmmm." Hermione, knelt down, placing a hand above the Membery. It appeared normal. "No heat."
"Don't touch it!" Ron warned her.
"Hermione, be careful," added Harry.
Hermione, very lightly, touched Ron's Membery.
Nothing happened.
"I think I see," she said, picking up the stone again.
"What?" Ron was clearly upset.
"I think somebody has been using his Membery a bit too much," she said, smugly.
"Wait a minute," Ron began.
"What do you mean, Hermione," Harry asked, and to him it appeared Hermione was just a little bit too happy about the situation. She moved the stone towards Ron, and it tried to float away, turning an ugly red, and she could feel the heat.
"Just as I thought, magic allergy," she said, smugly.
"Magic allergy?" Harry did not know what she was talking about.
"You're crazy," Ron said, but he suddenly didn't look so good. He was sweating and kind of pale.
"Ron has developed a sensitivity to Membery magic, because he indulged himself a little too much."
"That's not true," said Ron weakly.
"Are you okay, Ron?" Harry asked, thinking he looked like he was about to be ill.
"The. . .Memberies. . .they make me feel sick," he said, and backed away from Hermione.
"You're lucky. It could have been a lot worse. You could have gone blind," Hermione said, walking around to Harry, and getting her own Membery out. "Harry, you need to get rid of these."
"Wait, a minute!" Ron was very unhappy, torn between his desire and his new found repulsion for his Membery.
"Here, Ron, go on," she said holding a Membery out to him. "Touch it. I dare you."
Ron looked positively green.
"Harry, get rid of them, but don't destroy them. I'm not sure what would happen then." Hermione frowned.
Harry nodded and took the stones.
The silence fell heavily on Harry, as he walked, alone, to the Membery Chamber. He had promised Hermione that he would not destroy them, and he would not, but he wanted to. He was angry, angry at the trouble they had brought him and his friends, even though the Memberies had helped in getting Hagrid's voice and Nick's head back, and in catching Peeves cheating. Still, Hermione had been badly frightened by her experience, and Ron could have been really hurt. And Harry had not found his father's message in the tower.
Why, why, why?
Why was his father not alive to tell Harry the message? It wasn't fair, the Membery experience. It was like a taste of water to somebody in a desert, and then nothing, nothing but sand and heat, nothing.
Harry walked through the illusion door, down the long hallway to the Membery Chamber, right up the brazier where he had found them, and stood standing, staring at the empty bowl, trying to make sense of it all. It was then he felt a cold breeze that made the hairs on his neck stand up.
"I hate it when you do that, Myrtle," Harry said, gritting his teeth, trying not to sound mean.
"Sorry," Myrtle said, softly, becoming invisible before him, but just barely, like the ghost of a ghost, thought Harry. His anger gave way to concern.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked.
"I'm dead," Myrtle replied, woodenly.
"Er, well, are you okay. . .for being dead?" Harry was completely unsure of how to have this conversation. Did ghosts get sick?
"I'm tired, Harry." Her eyes searched his, and Harry noticed that the pupils had gone white, like the Bloody Baron. "Do you know what today is?" Myrtle asked him.
Harry shook his head.
"It's my birthday."
"You mean your deathday?" Harry remembered Nick's party from last year, and wondered if Myrtle was going to have one.
"No," Myrtle said firmly, her voice loud enough to echo down the long hallway. "No," she repeated, whispering again. "My birthday, but no one remembers. . .not even me."
"Well, happy birthday, Myrtle. . .uh, what do you mean, that you don't remember?" Harry wondered if every girl, alive and dead, acted weird, given the slightest opportunity.
"Remembering. . .is. . .difficult," she said, beginning to drift, as if all her effort was required for the act. "I can't seem to remember things well, like my parents. Isn't that odd? It is like it's winter in my memory, and a deep snow covers everything, and I wonder if it will ever be spring again."
Harry felt very, very bad in his stomach, and it made him want to run away, because he knew exactly how she felt, at least about remembering parents.
"Don't your parents ever come to visit you?" Harry asked, very quietly, dreading her answer, but hoping she would not say it.
"They're dead, Harry. Not ghosts. Just dead. I don't have any family."
"I understand," Harry said, his voice tight. He needed to sit down, and so he did right there on the floor. Myrtle put a hand to her mouth, realizing who she was talking to. She drifted down next to him, and Harry felt the coldness as she overlapped slightly, but he did not care.
"But you have some family, don't you?" Myrtle said, trying to make him feel better.
Harry laughed derisively. "My aunt and uncle keep me in a closet. And my cousin hates me even more."
"Oh." Myrtle said, then added, "but you have friends, Ron and Hermione." She said the last, with just a touch of irritation in her voice.
"Hermione's not so bad," Harry said, "just a little touched about books, is all."
Myrtle sighed. "I know. I'm just jealous. I don't really have any friends. The other ghosts don't like me much, and, before--oh! I wish I could remember if I had friends!"
It was then the Memberies flared from inside Harry's robes. Harry frowned, and removed them, careful not touch all three. They were glowing brightly. Harry looked at them--and then he had it!
"Myrtle, you can use the Memberies to remember! I did it, and you--"
"I've tried," she said forlornly. "It doesn't work for ghosts. Nothing works for ghosts."
"Oh. I'm sorry." And Harry was sorry. Sorry for Myrtle because she was dead, sorry because she alone, sorry because she had no friends, sorry her parents were dead. It wasn't fair, and it made Harry mad.
Myrtle put her head in her hands and stared into the distance, and she must have been trying to remember, because she lost track of where she was and drifted a bit into Harry and he felt the cold, and the Memberies flared again.
The Memberies flared.
When Myrtle was touching him.
Trying to remember.
"Myrtle!" Harry jumped up, and Myrtle was so startled she faded out for a second. "Myrtle!" Harry turned round and round, looking for her, and when she reappeared she looked very cross.
"What's wrong, Harry?"
"Myrtle you can use the Memberies!"
"I told you, Harry--"
"No, when you were brushing against me, trying to remember, the Memberies lit up, just like when I used them. You can do it! I can help you!"
Myrtle frowned. "I don't know, Harry. Even if that did work, it might be dangerous for you. I don't think--"
"Myrtle, in my first year here, I fought a troll and a teacher possessed by the spirit of a mad wizard, and in my second year a giant snake tried to kill me, and the evil, ghost of Lord Voldemort came after me from out of a stupid book. Now in my third year, I'm being stalked by a Grim, a death omen. How dangerous could it be?" Harry was grinning hugely.
"Do you really think I could?" Myrtle sounded afraid to hope. Harry put two Memberies in one hand, and one in the other.
"Put your hands between mine, and I will close my hands on yours, then remember--try to remember something you can't."
"All right," said Myrtle, doing as Harry said, shaking slightly.
"Ready?" Harry asked.
"Ready," Myrtle replied, nervous.
And then Harry closed his eyes and brought his hands together, and a great whiteness flared, a light whose brightness swept the foreboding dungeon clean of shadows, for they could not understand it, and a hidden truth of magic was thus revealed, that their is, in fact, no such thing as dark magic, only dark hearts, dark hearts and light.
There was the scent of strawberries in Harry's nose, and he knew it for the flavor of his mother's tresses. She held him, his head resting against her shoulder as she rocked him gently.
"It is quite beautiful," she said quietly.
"Yes," replied his father, who stood behind her, his arms around them. "I must remember to let Harry in on the 'secret' of the Forbidden Tower."
Lily sighed. "James, for goodness sake, he's only a baby."
"Well, yes, I didn't mean right now, but you know. . . "
"Perhaps we could begin with teaching him to walk," she suggested playfully.
"Then Quidditch, of course," replied James.
"Of course," said his mother, drily. "We don't want to neglect the most important aspects of his education: girls and sports."
"He is a Seeker, Lily, I can tell. Only a tiny baby and he can track with his eyes already."
Harry saw a blur before his eyes, his father's finger, and he followed it intently.
"Yes," his mother said, proudly, "yes, perhaps you are right--about the Quidditch," she added hastily.
James laughed, and held her close.
They stood for a long time in silence under the light of the setting sun, yellow, to orange, to red, until it faded to quiet night.
Harry sighed, attempting to hold on to the memory as long as he could, but it was like smoke between his fingers, the scent of memory merging with the dust of the dungeon chamber. Opening his eyes, he first saw the Memberies in his hands. They were now dark, gray stones, no light left within them, burned out. And then he saw Myrtle. She stood with her back to him, and it was the strangest thing, because he had trouble seeing through her, almost as if she were solid.
"Myrtle?"
Moaning Myrtle turned to face Harry.
She was in color. Ghosts tended to be, well, pale, and Myrtle had been particularly washed out, but not then. She stood before him in dark blue robes, her rich, black hair rolling down her back, her face pale, but pale like cream, not chalk.
"Harry?" Her voice was different, too. Before it sounded weak and tinny, like a far away station on a radio. Now it was clear, clear but soft, the sound a bell.
"What happened?" Harry breathed.
"Harry, I--I remember. . ." Her voice drifted off.
"What? What do you remember?"
"I remember," she began, and paused, staring past him. "I remember. . .the sun. I remember the sun, and the wind, the scent of blossoms. Oh, I remember spring!" She spun around, around and around, and whirling about the chamber before stopping in front of Harry to stare at him.
It was then Myrtle began to cry, being Moaning Myrtle this would not unusual, except that it was not like her usual annoying sound, which, honestly, put Harry's teeth on edge. This time Myrtle dropped to her knees and sobbed, sobbed uncontrollably, and it was as if a huge dam had burst within her, a dam holding back black, stagnant waters, and all of it came rushing out, came poring forth, first dark and fetid, then clearer, until only cool, whitewater rushed out. Harry rocked from one foot to the other, as such feminine displays of emotion can be very disconcerting to a young man.
"Myrtle, why are you crying?" Harry asked uneasily, kneeling beside her. It was odd, but ghost tears now fell from her eyes to pool upon the dungeon floor, something that had he had never seen before. "I thought this would make you happy?"
"I am happy," Myrtle howled.
"Then why are you crying?" Harry was completely lost.
"Because I'm happy!" Myrtle said, gasping, and pulling out a ghostly hanky to blow her nose.
Well, that was it for Harry. He would never understand women, dead or alive. He sighed, but instinctively, tentatively, reached to place a hand on her shoulder, which, of course, passed right through, but it seemed as if there was a bit more resistance. She looked at him then, her lips trembling, her eyes bearing down upon Harry in a way that made him rather uncomfortable, her eyes widening, her deep, green eyes.
"Myrtle, you have green eyes," said Harry, surprised again. "They're nice," he continued, innocently.
"I have green eyes," Myrtle whispered, rather close to Harry, enough so that he thought he felt a cool breeze from her ghostly breath, which was odd and--
Myrtle kissed him right on the lips.
The first thing Harry thought was that it was cold.
The second thing Harry thought was that it tingled.
The third thing Harry thought was--ack!
"Myrtle! What are you doing!" Harry pulled back, blushing furiously.
"You are my hero, Harry Potter," she said, whispering his name in a manner completely unlike the Moaning Myrtle Harry knew.
"I--I didn't do--"
She held a hand to his lips to silence him.
"Thank you, Harry." Myrtle sighed. "I have to go now," she said, drawing a deep breath.
"What?" Harry drew back, as Myrtle was still just a bit close for comfort. "Where? Where are you going?"
She smiled, and the curve of her lips, so opposite the frown she normally wore, made it seem to Harry that he was speaking with a completely different person.
"I am going to remember," Myrtle said happily, and disappeared.
Harry Potter was left alone in the dungeon shaking his head.
Could the world be a more strange place?
Harry picked up the charred Memberies off the floor and stood. There would be no more using them to remember his parents. But now, he knew something, knew that his father thought he would be a Seeker, and a Seeker he had become. Harry now knew, knew, his father would have been proud of him.
The world was indeed strange, but that was okay. Harry dropped the stones in the brazier and strolled out of the empty chamber, whistling as he walked.
But it wasn't over yet, as Harry found out when he got back to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione and Ron were sitting at a table, and Hermione looked worried.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, thinking that wouldn't it be nice if this particular crisis could just end already.
"Show him, Ron," Hermione said, quietly.
Ron shrugged. He looked around, then touched the table. "This table came from an old oak tree in the Forbidden Forest, about a hundred and forty years old when a bolt of lightning struck it and it fell, right after Hagrid got hired, and he went out and chopped it up and carted some of the wood to Professor Gorkin, who taught Shaping, and Gorkin used the wood in classes on how to make stuff using magic instead of tools, and this table ended up here, where--"
"That's enough," said Hermione, shortly.
"Ron, what are you talking about?"
"The table," replied Ron, smiling.
"It's a side-effect of the Membery allergy," Hermione said, "and it's not funny, Ron."
"Side-effect? I don't get it."
"It's cool," said Ron, not at all worried. "I just. . .know stuff, whatever I touch, or see, or hear. . .it's great, kind of fun."
"It's not fun, it's the Law of Unintended Magic," Hermione said, "and it's trouble, you wait and see. You need to go to the hospital."
"Hospital?" Harry didn't quite understand what was going on, but he didn't see how knowing the history of a table required a trip to the hospital. . .and a lot of messy questions from Madam Pomfrey. Apparently, Ron didn't either.
"I'm going to lunch," said Ron, getting up. "Coming, Harry?"
"Yeah, okay. Come on, Hermione, we can decide what to do after we eat."
Hermione shook her head, but got up and followed.
On the way, Ron told them about the history of the Fat Lady portrait, including some time she spent with a certain portrait of an Earl, much to her embarrassed dismay, all about the the suits of armor, who wore them, who they fought, what damsel they rescued, and it was interesting in that, contrary to tales and stories, a lot of Knights apparently spent considerably less time fighting dragons than in local taverns. Then they ran into Professor McGonagall.
"Hello, Professor," said Hermione, who got along quite well with McGonagall.
"Hermione," she replied, nodding. "Boys."
The boys said hello as they passed, and Professor McGonagal's robes brushed Ron.
"Professor McGonagall switched robes recently because the new ones cover her butt better, the old ones having been made for her when she was--" Ron slapped his hands in front of his mouth.
"Weasley!" The crack of thunder reverberated down the hall and it's name was Professor McGonagall.
Harry and Hermione hadn't even had time to throw Ron down on the ground, something that would have to wait for later--and a beating, too--as they slowly, very slowly turned around.
"What did you say?" Professor McGonagal's face was the storm in the hall.
"I--I--s-said," Ron began to stutter.
"Ron said McNoggin's in Diagon Alley has better Butterbeer, bigger tankards, then in Hogsmeade," Hermione interjected smoothly, and turned to Ron. "Didn't you, Ron?"
Ron nodded frantically.
Harry held his breath.
"I see," replied Professor McGonagall, eyeing them suspiciously, but her professional demeanor had recovered. "Well, I suggest, Weasley, that you stop mumbling when you speak."
Ron nodded enthusiastically, as Professor McGonagall turned and swept down the hall, adjusting her robes over her behind as she went.
"Hermione," whispered Harry, "you are the best." Hermione would have none of that, she whirled on Ron.
"I told you! The Law of Unintended Magic explicitly states that Great Power must be balanced by Great Power."
"Well, that's great, Hermione," Ron said, hotly, "but since I have no idea what you are talking about, how is that helpful?"
"It means--it's. . .it's like a rubberband, when you pull it, it stretches and stretches, but then it either snaps back or snaps apart.
"I don't like the sound of that," said Harry.
"Neither do I," said Ron. "But what's a rubberband?"
Hermione had forgotten that Ron was not a Muggle, like her, or grown up around them, like Harry.
"It means we need to get you, and the Memberies, to the hospital, before something worse happens."
"Uh, oh," said Harry.
They both looked at him.
"I think I better explain," said Harry. They went in to the dining room, and there, over lunch Harry explained about Myrtle, and what he had done, and what happened to the Memberies.
"Great, Harry, Myrtle can remember a sunny day, and I'm going to snap like a blubberrand."
"Rubberband," said Hermione thoughtfully, chewing on her lip.
"I didn't know," responded Harry, "that it would. . .make you into a Membery."
"Ron, if you hadn't been abusing your own Membery, none of this would have happened. Frankly, I found your obsession with it disgusting."
"Oh, sure, blame me," said Ron, very surly, and reached for his cup of pumpkin juice, but as he brought it to his lips he froze, his face widening in horror. Suddenly, he threw the cup down and it spilled across the table.
"What are you doing, Ron?!" Harry scooted out of the way of the juice pouring onto the bench.
"What's wrong, Ron?" Hermione asked.
"He used that glass," Ron whispered in horror.
"Who?" Harry prompted.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Ron said, swallowing, "when he was a student here, and when he was drinking from it. . .he was making a list of people--that he was going to kill."
Hermione blanched.
Harry reached out and picked up the cup, holding the cup that Tom Riddle held before he became Lord Voldemort.
"Let's go see Dumbledore," he said finally.
Dumbledore's office was at the far corner from the dining hall, and the walked the long way around, Ron arguing heatedly against teacher intervention.
"I feel fine," he said.
"Do you want to go on insulting teachers? What if you had done that to Snape?" Hermione asked, striding determinedly.
"She's right, Ron. We need to fix this, even if we have to tell everything." Harry was not looking forward to that discussion.
"But. . .but I can find things out, about anything, anything we want to know."
"And some things we don't," replied Hermione.
"I wish you could find out how to get into the Forbidden Tower," Harry said offhandedly. "I would really like to know what my dad did there."
Ron stopped. A grin split his face.
"No, Ron," said Hermione firmly, and stomped a foot.
"Race ya, Harry," and he was off.
"Ron!" Harry yelled, and ran after him.
"Boys," Hermione said to herself and ran after them.
And when she got to the tower Ron was already there, had touched the door.
"Well?" Hermione asked, out of breath.
Ron whistled. "You would not believe the things people were planning on doing in that tower!" He shuddered.
"Yes, I would," said Harry, having experienced his parents doing just that kind of thing. He tried not to think about it.
"So, I guess you didn't find out about the curse, then? Well, good, let's go to Dumbledore's office." Hermione turned and began to walk away.
"It's not a curse," said Ron. "It's a Warding, a Fore Ward, whatever that is. Dumbledore put it there a long time ago."
Hermione stopped.
Harry's heart hammered in his chest. "Hermione, do you know what--"
"Oh, no, not again. I am not going to help you defeat the Ward on the tower. No, way."
"Then you know how to?" Harry asked, again.
"It doesn't matter. We are going to Dumbledore. Now." She stomped a foot on the ground.
"Come, on, Hermione. Harry's dad did something up there," Ron urged her.
"No," Hermione repeated.
"Hermione," Harry began, "I know we have caused you a lot of trouble, but, if you could, maybe just tell us, not actually do it, then we could--I--it's just that. . ." Harry didn't want to beg, and he wasn't going to cry, at least he hoped not.
Hermione had been placed in an awful place then, the place between good judgment and helping her friend, and it was not a particularly pleasant place to be, but because Harry Potter was her friend, she did not hesitate long. She stomped her foot again.
"I hope," she said, stepping between them, "that if this doesn't work, we at least die of thirst in there before a teacher finds us."
"That's the spirit, Hermione!" Ron pated her on the back. "We'll make an adventurer out of you, yet."
Hermione looked daggers at Ron. "You are not making me feel better.
"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said, and Hermione just nodded, and gestured for them to unbar the door. Upon opening it, it was, again, a dark and unused place.
She stepped inside, and they followed. The door closed behind them. Hermione walked up to the stairs and turned to face them. "Turn around. You have to walk backwards."
They looked at her.
"It's Fore Ward. To counter it you have to walk backwards."
Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged. This was too weird, but they turned around and backed towards the stairs.
"And don't turn around," Hermione said over their shoulders, "or we'll be stuck again."
It was slow going at first, and once Harry stumbled and fell onto Ron, but after a while they got the hang of it they climbed the stairs almost as quickly as if they were going forward.
"Stop," came Hermione's voice suddenly, and they froze. "I think we made it," she said, sounding out of breath. "Be careful, there's a landing here." Harry and Ron carefully went up onto the landing and drew even with Hermione.
"Is is safe to turn around?" Harry asked.
"I--I think so," Hermione answered uncertainly.
"You think so!" Ron was indignant. "Hermione, I thought you knew the counter to this ward?"
"Well, I do, but every ward is unique."
"That was important information to leave out," Ron said, scathingly.
"Well, if you--"
"Oh, never mind," said Harry, turning around, and both Ron and Hermione went still. "It's a door."
It was a door, like any other dungeon door, large, wooden, rounded at the top. A crossbar held it closed, just like the door at the tower entrance. Ron walked went to the bar, motioning Harry to help, and they removed it. Ron stood aside by Hermione.
"Okay, Harry," Ron said, smiling, "let's see where we are."
Harry opened the door, cold air rushing in, and saw Hogwarts buildings and grounds. There was a circular balcony with a chest high wall running around the turret.
"Cool," said Ron, as the three of them stepped out into the frozen air of winter. Their footprints broke the snow in the base of the turret.
"I don't think anyone's been up here for a long time," said Hermione.
Harry thought the same thing, wondering what his father had meant. It was just a tower. They walked around it once. The tower looked out upon the lake and the Forbidden Forest, and beyond, mountains. In the quiet everything appeared sleeping under a blanket of white.
"I bet the view is really something in summer," murmured Hermione.
"It is indeed, Miss Granger," said Professor Dumbledore from behind them.
The three of them spun around to see the Headmaster standing there in robes and great coat, his mouth a thin line, his eyes sternly looking down upon them.
Harry gulped, and stammered, "Pr--Professor, I can explain--"
"I am afraid the time for explanations is long past, Harry," Dumbledore began softly, and Ron, and especially Hermione, paled under his gaze. "Once, quite some time ago, when I was head of Gryffindor House, a certain student, prowling the halls at night with his friends, discovered the aforementioned view. His actions from that point caused a considerable amount of consternation among the staff. It is ironic then, that I was forced to deal with the culprit, a James Potter, and now must do so with his son. And his friends." Dumbledore said the last, turning his gaze upon Hermione and Ron, the heat of which came close to melting the snow on the turret floor.
Harry could not let them take the blame. "It's my fault, Professor, I--I just was wrong. . ."
That snapped Hermione and Ron out of it.
"No, it's mine, Professor," Ron said, jumping in. "I wanted to be smart, like Hermione--except I didn't want to study, to work hard--"
"I knew we were breaking the rules--I told them how to beat the Fore Ward--and I deserved to suspended, too." Ron and Harry looked at Hermione sharply. It was fine and well that she wanted to share the blame, but it really wasn't necessary to give Dumbledore any ideas about punishment!
"I see," said Dumbledore, raising a hand to his chin. "Then you are all responsible for the. . .events of the past few days?"
They all nodded.
"Then," Dumbledore said, staring at them stonily, "it becomes my duty to thank each of you on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and," he paused, and his voice changed, becoming very quiet, "for myself, as well." Dumbledore then did the most amazing thing, at least it was amazing from the point of view of three students who thought they were about to be suspended. Professor Albus Dumbledore bowed deeply to the three of them.
Harry could not have been more shocked had Professor Snape started class by handing out candies and announcing he was leaving Hogwarts to become a hermit in some cave in a desert, and by the looks on Hermione's face and Ron's face, neither could they.
"Thanks?" Harry felt like he was the victim of a Confundus curse.
"But," began Hermione, also sounding confused, "we did horrible things, broke all sorts of rules!" She raised a hand and began to count them off one at a time. "We were roaming the caverns under Hogwarts, broke into the Membery chamber and took them, went to Peeve's Poker Party--ouch!"
Ron pushed Hermione aside, cutting her off. "Thanks, Hermione," he said quickly, motioning with his finger across his neck and looking at her sharply her before turning to Dumbledore. "Professor, on behalf of myself, Harry, and Hermione, we accept your thanks, and, er, thank you . . ." Ron trailed off, and, unsure of what to do, extended his hand to Dumbledore, who solemnly shook it.
"Why?" Harry asked quietly.
Dumbledore stood and sighed, and to Harry, perhaps because of the bleak sky and cold whiteness covering the world, the great wizard looked tired, old and tired.
"Were I the most brilliant wizard of the age I should be able to answer that."
"But you are," Ron said, as if someone had just asked if snow was white.
"If I were, Ron, I would have discovered the secret power of the Memberies, and, perhaps, prevented a great deal of sadness." His eyes drifted to Harry.
"But," began, Hermione, a look of great consternation upon her face, "Who's Who and Who's Not of Wizardry has listed you as the most brilliant wizard of our time for, well for a long time."
"Well," Dumbledore said, and coughed, a wry grin spreading across his face, "let us hope it has not been for too long."
"But, if you're not, then who?" Hermione asked.
"Voldemort," said Harry, quietly.
"Harry," Ron hissed, hating it when Harry said the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "That's crazy! If Voldemort were more powerful, then--then . . ." He looked alarmingly at Dumbledore.
"Then Voldemort would have won," Dumbledore finished for Ron, his eyes twinkling. "Ron, I think you will find that, though knowledge is indeed powerful, there are forces even more so."
"Like what?" Hermione sounded a bit skeptical, but deeply interested.
"Oh, there are many, actually. Consider faith, or hope, or love." Dumbledore's eyes went to the scar upon Harry's forehead. "It was love that was the downfall of Lord Voldemort, the love of a mother for her son."
Harry felt his throat tighten involuntarily.
"But what does this all have to do with--with why you aren't mad at us," Hermione asked, trying to make sense of everything.
Dumbledore smiled and withdrew from his robes a black, leather book, upon the spine of which was the number twenty-seven.
"The twenty-seventh volume of the Encyclopedia Magicka," said Hermione, excitedly.
"Volume--and Dumbledore made a clicking, popping sound with his tongue.
"That's not a letter in the alphabet." Hermione corrected.
"Well, perhaps it should be," he replied, smiling. "This text contains some of the most important, and secret information in the wizarding world." At that last pronouncement, it appeared Hermione would swoon and they would have to catch her. "Students are given access to this book shortly before graduation, after accepting a geas."
"What?" Hermione sounded shocked
"Yes, a spell is placed upon them that will not allow them to divulge the secrets of this book.
"But that's censorship!" Hermione was quite heated over the thought of hiding information.
"Yes, it is. However, the service you have performed so admirably requires explanation, therefore I will allow you to learn a single secret from this book, provided you, upon your honor, swear not to divulge it to anyone." Dumbledore was very serious as he said the last, holding forth the book.
"I swear!" Hermione eagerly stepped forward to take the tome, a blue bookmark, sticking out of the top, but Dumbledore did not release it yet."
"And provided you wish to know the truth, for knowledge brings more than clarity, but great burdens, also." Dumbledore looked each of them in the eye for a moment, and Harry felt a sense of hesitation, and saw it Ron's face. Only Hermione remained eager. It appeared she would jump out of her robes. Dumbledore released the book, and Hermione swiftly opened it and began to read, her eyes darting across the page, her lips whispering silently to herself, but something happened, for her eyes grew wider, and her lips stopped moving, and face turned white.
"What is it Hermione?" Harry asked, and she looked up at him, then down at the book.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron sounded scared.
She looked quickly at Dumbledore, who simply nodded, confirming her something, something in the book, something terrible. It wavered in her hand, and Ron took it from her, and she turned to cover her face.
Harry felt an awful, terrible feeling, and he wanted to shout at Ron not to read the book.
"'It was discovered,'" and Ron paused, looking up, "'by Tom Riddle, during his last year at Hogwarts, that by the use of a single Membery it was possible to. . .create a ghost.'" Ron looked at Harry, but Harry did not acknowledge him, and Ron looked at Dumbledore who nodded sadly. Ron continued to read. "'Further, that to tell reveal this knowledge to any actual ghost, is to cause irreparable harm to that entity.'" Ron looked at Dumbledore. "I don't get it."
"The Bloody Baron," Harry whispered.
"The Bloody Baron," said Dumbledore slowly, "was not always as you see him now, though not the most friendly of Hogwarts ghosts, never was he so withdrawn, never was he taken to fading from reality." Dumbledore's face turned very dark, like the sky before a storm. "Not until Tom Riddle."
"What did he do?" Ron asked.
"Tom Riddle used dark magic to create a duplicate of the Bloody Baron, another ghost, and it destroyed one of them," Dumbledore said sadly. "The truth, the knowledge that he was nothing more than a created thing, destroyed one and drove the other mad. To this day we do not know which survived and which was destroyed."
"But why?"
"It was the ghost, in the book, the diary, that Ginny found," said Harry, who understood, all to well. "Tom Riddle made. . .ghosts of himself, in case he died. How many are there?" He looked searchingly at Dumbledore.
"No one knows," Dumbledore said wearily.
"I still don't see what the big deal is, so they--the ghosts--are copies, so?"
"Oh, Ron!" Hermione had recovered herself, though here eyes were quite red. She was quite angry. "How would you feel, if. . .if--"
"How would you feel, Ron, if you found out you were a fake, not real, a construct created by someone else?" Dumbledore asked.
"But that's crazy. . .I'm me. My family--you all know me."
"Ah, but what if all of us, and your family, told you that you were, in fact, not you. What if, as proof, another you, another Ron, were to step forward and tell you that, and what if everyone agreed with that Ron, that it was you who were the fake. How would you feel?"
"But--I--I'm me," Ron stammered, understanding in his eyes. He exhaled sharply. "That would be awful," he whispered.
"Yes, it would indeed," agreed Dumbledore. "That is why we keep it a secret, to protect the ghosts, and that is why I needed your help, to help one of them, to save Moaning Myrtle."
"Myrtle?" Harry was stunned.
"Yes, Harry. I do not know what Myrtle's ghost is, only that she is, and that is my fault."
"Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, almost sounding reproving to the Headmaster. "It most certainly is not your fault that Myrtle became a ghost."
"Ah, but it was I who led the investigation at the time, and I who was fooled by Tom Riddle. . .and it was not to be the last time." Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "And so Myrtle died and a ghost was created."
"But what are ghosts, then?" Ron asked.
"No one knows. We know only that they exist, that they live, that they may die, as Myrtle the ghost was doing. She was fading away. I wanted to help her, but she has always blamed me for her 'death' and would have none of it, thus I concocted a plan to assist her, that she might become more 'alive'. And it was you three who aided me. That you put an end to Peeves' indiscriminate Poker game, was quite a pleasant surprise, much better than had I interfered and caused resentment. I owe you a great deal, and so I would like to repay you."
"Hey, you can take away Snape's detention. We'll never figure that out by Monday!" Ron exclaimed.
"Alas, it would be highly inappropriate to reward you by interfering with another teacher, after all the Forbidden Tower is forbidden." Ron's face fell at that comment,
Dumbledore paused and drew out his wand, and said, quite quickly, tapping Ron on the top of his head, "Loggorhea nihilo!"
Ron blinked. "Hey, what did you do?"
"I removed the rather indiscriminate curse you inadvertently placed on yourself," he said smiling, and turned to Hermione. "And you Hermione, have an answer, one bit of secret knowledge." Hermione nodded, thoughtfully.
The chill wind was bringing rain, a cold slushy rain was falling now. Dumbledore held out a hand upon which drops fell. "Interesting is not," he said, "so much depends upon the rain, from which life springs forth. the single most important ingredient I can imagine," Dumbledore, said, his eyes twinkling.
Hermione's eyes went wide.
"Perhaps you can help Ron with that detention? Dumbledore asked.
Hermione nodded.
"And that leaves you Harry," Dumbledore said, reaching into his robes to withdraw a bottle and hand it to Harry.
"What's this?"
"Dragon Ink," said Dumbledore. "See what your father wrought with the his Stylus Magus." He raised his wand and said, "Illusion Nihilo!" Instantly the walls of the turret flashed, and across the surfaces of the turret were revealed names, names and names an more, hundreds of names of students in all different colors, names next to other names, the purpose clear. Here, on these walls couples came to see the view and declare their undying adolescent love.
Ron whistled. "Harry, your dad was bad. Why didn't you just clean it up?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Dragons Ink is quite difficult to remove, and it was my opinion then, and now, that far more important than the buildings and grounds of Hogwarts are the lives, the acts, the history of those who reside here. A compromise was reached, to seal off the tower from further endeavors and hide the. . .art work of the students."
Harry was stunned. His father had done this? It was hard to imagine his father. . .acting like him and Ron.
"And now, Ron, Hermione, I believe it is time for us to leave."
"Huh? But--"
"Ron, the Headmaster has spoken," Dumbledore said, smilingly, but leaving no chance for dissent. The two looked at Harry, who shrugged. "Harry, you will find what you seek on the far side of the tower." Dumbledore led Ron and Hermione into the tower and down the stairs. Harry walked quickly around the tower. There was a corked bottle upon the ground, but that is not what caught his eye. On the wall above it, a huge hart was drawn in pink, and within it was written: James + Lily.
How strange.
Again Harry felt that feeling about his parents, as if his parents were not his parents--no, that was not right. It was as if his idea of them was changing, expanding, to hold thoughts about them that he had never had before. They loved each other, not in the way they loved him, in a different way, a way he did not really understand, yet. Harry walked over to the heart and traced it with his finger, then bent down and opened the bottle. One day he would understand, maybe, and his idea of his parents would grow again. Harry cast the spell and dipped his wand into the bottle.
After he was finished he looked across the lake, the forest, to the mountains and the sky. The sun was breaking through, warm oranges and reds painting the white of snow with the hope of spring, and to Harry the air felt warmer then, the softness of the breeze gently touching his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, turned and left the turret, leaving behind the latest chapter in the history of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. Upon the wall, within the Heart, was now written: James + Lily + Harry.