Harry Potter and the Michaelmas Term

Professor Dumbledore agreed to write a short letter for Madame Pince, asking her if she would select some suitable books about the Dark Arts from the library.

"Note, Harry, that's it's for you three only, and for no one else. And Madam Pince has to approve the books. There are a lot of books in there which can do you serious harm if you are unprepared for them. The ones she will provide will be bad enough, rest assured of that.

"But if you tell Madam Pince exactly what you are after, you will find she will be very helpful. She knows her way round the library better than anyone, and she will also have a very good idea of the sort of books that you are looking for."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, sir," taking the note. "That's very helpful."

"Any time, Harry."

All the same, Madam Pince read the note through two or three times before she was satisfied.

"I see," she said. "Well, I know where to find books like these. Although I can't say I have much call for them in the general run of things."

Harry suspected that she had already been primed by Dumbledore: she didn't seem that surprised by the request.

"I am going to give you a small room behind the Restricted Section," she went on. "You can read your books there. But I must make one or two things clear from the outset.

"You don't take any books out of that room. I will do that. Second, you don't browse by yourself. If you want help, come and ask. I will give you all the help I can, but some of those books are very dangerous. Many have some rather nasty spells on them. I do not want to have to take you up to Madam Pomfrey. She's seen enough of you three already."

She looked at them all very severely. "So, is that clear?" The three of them nodded in turn as she fixed them with her beady eyes. "Very well then, come with me."

She unhooked the rope through to the Restricted Section and led them into its gloomy recesses, stopping in a small bay.

"I think the things you may be looking for are in here. Now then, a book for you, Mr Weasley ... and for you, Mr Potter ... and one for you, Miss Granger."

Harry noticed that Hermione's book was the thickest of them all.

Madam Pince led them through to another small room. This was rather more comfortable, with chairs around a central table. A fire was burning in the grate, and Harry was slightly surprised to see an open fire in a library. Madam Pince caught his glance.

"All the books have Anti-Inflammatory Charms," she told him reassuringly.

Harry nodded. Ron and Hermione had already sat down at the table, and he joined them. Madam Pince made her way out, closing the door behind her. Harry picked up his book and looked at the title: 'The Dark Arts in Britain in the Nineteenth Century.' Ah well. It was a start.

Despite the archaic prose, it was more interesting than he'd thought, and he was soon engrossed. The room was silent as the three of them read their way through their books.

After an hour or so, Harry felt his attention began to wander - there was only so much history he could take, even if was about the Dark Arts - and he looked across to Ron, who was staring at his book, looking very white and rather nauseated. He leaned forward so that he could see the title. 'An Account of the Torturing of Muggles in the Early Twentieth Century.'

"Are you all right, Ron?"

Ron dragged his eyes from the page.

"Yeah," he said rather hoarsely.

"You don't look it," said Harry. "You want to go out for a breath of air?"

Ron swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, then nodded. Hermione was also looking at him in a concerned manner.

Harry stood up, glad of the opportunity to stretch, and led them out of the library into the covered cloister of the courtyard. Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets, but at least the air was clean and fresh.

"Nasty?" he asked quietly.

Ron nodded a few times, then burst out: "How can people do things like that?"

"All too easily," said Hermione quietly.

"You'd have to be sick!"

"They are. That's why we're fighting them."

Ron stared unseeingly into the rain. "You know, the worst thing is that sometimes - I dunno, perhaps it was the way the bloke wrote it - but sometimes, it seemed kind of ... well, almost fascinating. Even when it was really sick."

"That's the danger," said Hermione.

"What - that we get dragged in?"

"Yes."

Ron swallowed again, then shook his head. "No way. I mean, there is a sort of sick fascination, but actually doing those things yourself - no way."

Hermione nodded, then: "Let's do a couple of circuits of the cloisters, to stretch our legs."

They started walking, looking at the rain teeming down from the leaden sky.

"Well, at least there's not much else we could be doing on a day like this," remarked Ron. "And something else - that book might have me turning the pages, but one thing's for sure: I think if I read much more I'm really going to begin to hate people who do things like that."

"You have to be careful with hate," said Hermione.

"I know, I know." Ron was obviously searching for the right words. "But if you're going to fight for a cause, then you've got to believe in it. When people talked about Dark Wizards and stuff when I was young - well, it was like bogeymen. Or Father Christmas. You weren't sure whether it was just grown ups having you on. And then I saw them that night after the World Cup. Remember that?" The other two nodded. "And now - the things in that book. They're not bogeymen - they're real. That's the horrible thing. And that's why you can count me in."

"Exactly," said Harry. "That's why we need to read the books - to find out what these people really are capable of."

They completed two circuits of the cloisters in silence, and then went back in. Another hour of reading about those who had practiced the Dark Arts. Eventually Harry closed his book.

"I think we've had enough for one day."

The other two nodded, and they picked up the books to give back to Madam Pince. She looked at their faces as they handed them back but said nothing. Out in the courtyard the rain had eased to a fine drizzle.

"What we need to do now," said Hermione, as they stared at the miserable weather, "is to go and see Hagrid. He'll cheer us up."

"Good idea," said Ron.

Hermione raised her wand and cast Impervious charms over each of them, and they headed out into the fading light. As they walked across the grass they could see a bright welcoming glow from the windows of Hagrid's cabin. The knock on the door produced a series of booming barks from Fang before Hagrid opened the door, his huge figure looming before them in the lamplight.

"Oh, you three, is it? Come on in then." Gratefully they escaped the damp and stood before the warmth of the fire. "Just a mo. Gotta make sure the salamanders can't get loose." He stomped to the back door, disappeared for a moment or two before coming back, apparently satisfied. "They'll do for tonight. Some tea then?"

"Please," said Hermione.

"Right then." Hagrid busied himself. "Go on, then, sit yourselves down."

He poured the tea into some enormous mugs.

"That's better. First time I've sat down today." He looked from one to the other. "You're all very quiet today. What's up?"

"Been in the library," said Hermione.

"Oh?"

"Reading - well, reading books about the Dark Arts."

"What do you want to be doing that for?" asked Hagrid, obviously taken aback at the thought of it.

"Because," said Ron, "if we're going to fight them, we've got to know what they're like."

"Ah, I was forgetting. Me and the others - well, we don't need to read any books about it. We remember the last time when You Know Who was on the rampage. Him and his Death Eaters. Remember it all too well. You're too young to be knowing about that."

"It was horrible - the stuff in those books," Ron burst out.

"What were you reading about?" asked Hagrid quietly.

"The things some of those people did to Muggles. Torturing. It was - well, it was really nasty."

"Aye," said Hagrid. "A lot of it was. Some of those people, when they got started - they sort of got a taste for it, if you see what I mean. One thing led to another. And some of the others - well, they reckoned Muggles were inferior - well, more than inferior. Sort of vermin, if you like."

"The sad thing is that there are still people around who think like that," said Hermione.

"True, there are. That's why we've got to stop You Know Who getting any more followers. And you three are doing a good job there."

"But he's still out there," said Harry.

"And you're still here to stop him."

"True."

"Oh, come on," said Hermione suddenly. "Let's talk about something else. How's Grawp?"

"Grawp? He's fine. Settled down nicely in the Forest now. Knows where to go and where not to go, if you see what I mean. That Professor Wynne comes and talks to him from time to time. Quite useful, really, having Grawp telling us what's going on in there."

At least they had moved the conversation on. Letting Hagrid ramble on about the adventures of his half brother was less horrific than the books they had just been reading. And once Hagrid had started, he just needed the occasional prompting to keep him going until it was nearly time for supper.

The three of them walked back up to the castle for supper in a lighter frame of mind than on the way down. But even talking to Hagrid couldn't quite take the nasty taste of the books from their mouths. As Ron said: "It makes even Potions seem fun by comparison."

******

Hogsmeade was having its first snowfall of the winter. Several inches had fallen already, and the flakes were coming down faster and thicker. Four figures in cloaks were making their way down the High Street, grateful for the snow, since it meant they could pull their cloaks up over their heads without arising any suspicion. Given the severity of the weather, there were few people around to see them. Most of the other Hogwarts students had preferred to stay in the castle rather than venture out into what was fast becoming a blizzard.

The figure in the lead turned down a small alleyway, followed by the other three, and made his way to a small rundown house. The figure lifted a hand to knock on the door, and they waited outside for a minute or so before the door swung open, and, gratefully, they were able to go inside and escape the snow.

There was a muttered conversation in the hall before a chinking bag of Galleons changed hands, and the four, the melting snow now dripping from their cloaks onto the wooden floorboards, were ushered into a small front room, where a fire was blazing in the grate. They waited until their host had closed the door behind them before each taking a handful of Floo powder and stepping into the fireplace.

In the drawing room of the Malfoy manor, a drawling voice proclaimed: "Honestly, I hope you two get your Apparation test one day! Floo powder - well, enough said."

Crabbe and Goyle shuffled their feet, saying nothing.

"He's not here yet?" asked Theo.

"Does it look like it?" A muttered, exasperated "Honestly!" followed.

Malfoy clicked his fingers to summon a house elf. "Four hot chocolates," he ordered. "Sit down, for heaven's sake," he said to the others.

Awkwardly, they found seats, and started sipping the hot drinks gratefully.

The candles flickered. A figure appeared in front of the fireplace. Even Malfoy looked slightly disconcerted by the sudden arrival.

"So we are again assembled," remarked a cold high voice.

Malfoy gave a half bow from his seat. "Indeed."

Voldemort looked at each of them in turn. They had the temerity to stay seated. Perhaps they were not to know better, but even so, the lack of manners - no, lack of respect - infuriated him. His fingers tightened on his wand until he forced them to relax. He hated to admit this even to himself, but he needed these boys - needed them more than they needed him. Instead, he looked steadily at Draco Malfoy until the boy was forced into speech.

"We think we have a plan."

He deliberately drew out the silence, then: "Oh?"

"Theo - you'd better explain."

The fourth member of the group, who up to now had been silent, began to outline his ideas. As he finished, Voldemort nodded approvingly.

"Now this I like," he said. "This I like very much. But you will need some assistance from me, however. Listen carefully ..."

At the end of an hour, their business was concluded.

"I hope when you see me next," said Voldemort softly, "we will be in a position to begin to fight back against the Ministry and all its Muggle lovers. Let's hope this plan of yours succeeds."

And with another flicker of the candles, he vanished, leaving the four boys to gather themselves together for their journey back to Hogsmeade.