The War for Souls

Chapter 8--Morag Castle

"Well..."

"So..."

"After you, Remus."

"Perhaps we should wait for Moody."

"That might not be such a bad idea." Arthur and Remus were standing on what was left of the front lawn of Morag Castle. So far, the grounds and the old building had lived up to their eerie reputation. "Although, really, how bad could it be?"

"Bad," said Remus. "And I'm a werewolf."

"Wasn't there some issue with the Ministry?"

"Hardly. Half the country's forgotten Morag ever existed, and the other half wants as little to do with it as they do with me."

Arthur couldn't think of a response, so he settled for an awkward silence, broken by a particularly noisy Apparition behind them. "What are you waiting for?" Moody had arrived.

"Well, Alastor, we were hoping you could take a quick look."

"What, scared of a little pile of stones? Oh, well, I'll check the Entrance Hall. Come on up on the stairs." Remus and Arthur followed warily as Moody's magical eye scanned through the door.

"Well?" said Arthur.

"Nothing in the Entrance Hall. Might as well be on our guard, though."

As they entered, Arthur saw a rat scurry between his feet and through a crack in the stonework. If only a rat was the worst we would find. He sighed and readied his wand as he saw Moody staring hard at the door to the Great Hall.

*****

The sitting room at Padfoot's had never felt so confining to Harry as on the morning of 2 August. Dumbledore had come early to collect Ron and Neville for the Wizengamot, with the anticipation of coming back with at least a conditional pardon for Sirius. Hermione and Ginny had gone to the library, where they were either organizing or digging through genealogical tables. Luna was in the garden, tending some of Neville's more deadly plants for him. There he was, sitting on the sofa, in front of the fire, his eyes closed. He felt guilty, somewhat, for not having thought more of his godfather over the summer. He had accepted that the guilt over Sirius' death belonged to Voldemort and Bellatrix, the gnawing feeling in his stomach wasn't that. Nor was it guilt that he was responsible for Petunia and Dudley's deaths, and Vernon's resulting madness. No, the guilt that seemed to eat him up on this morning was over his own forgetfulness. He had allowed thoughts of his dead relatives, both of blood and spirit, to slip from his mind amid the enjoyment of his life with his friends, and he felt traitorous. A frighteningly familiar arm snaked around his shoulders, and he opened his eyes. "Why aren't you down with Hermione?"

"Thought you might need company. Thinking of Sirius?"

"Yeah. We can get him cleared, but it's too little, too late."

"No, Harry, it's not. It might just save the world, trite as that sounds. Remember, Fudge is meeting with Travers on Monday."

"You're right, you know. But I still can't help thinking it would be better if he were alive for it. He never had a chance to live, Gin."

"But you do. And I'll be buggered if I'm going to let you waste it sitting in front of a fire feeling guilty. Let's go!" She grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him through the door to the outside.

"Where are we going?" he asked, but she didn't respond. Luna looked puzzled as Ginny dragged him past the flower beds, but Luna always looked puzzled. Harry looked at her in a plea for some sort of help or information, but she smiled and shook her head in silence.

Ginny kept pulling on Harry's sleeve until they got down onto the beach. With a single fluid motion, she pulled off her t-shirt, and slid her shorts down. Not again! She's doing it on purpose this time! She ran into the ocean a few feet, turning around to look at him.

"Not again, Harry! Come on, it's no worse than a Muggle swimsuit."

Harry wanted to respond, but his vocal chords seemed to have lost their ability to function. "Lose the clothes and come on in!" His hands started moving--of their own accord, it seemed--and in a moment he had shed his outer clothes and was running into the ocean himself.

"Hah! Got ya!"

It was with some effort that Harry forced words from his throat. "Why?"

"Got your mind off Sirius, didn't it? Besides, it's nothing you haven't seen." She smirked as she said this, and splashed a handful of water on his face.

The icy spray seemed to clear his mind, and suddenly Ginny was an opponent more than the girl he fancied more each time he looked at her. "You asked for it, Weasley!" He launched a miniature wave at her with a sweep of his arm. They battled back and forth, spraying each other with water, dunking each other under, until the thought of what was happening at the Ministry at that very moment had slipped entirely from their minds.

Finally Harry had had enough of being drenched and dunked, and hauled himself, panting, up onto the pebbly shore, where he flopped down on his back. Ginny dropped next to him, and looked over at him, her face fixed in a huge grin. "Had fun?" she asked.

"I love you."

"Good, I--what!"

Oh shit. That wasn't supposed to come out out loud! "Uh...sorry...yeah, I had fun."

"Oh, no. You're not getting off that easily. What did you say?"

"POTTER!"

Bugger.

"What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Ginny?" Ron stopped dead in his tracks. "What the..."

"Did you have something to say, Ron?" Ginny batted her eyes as innocently as she could, given the circumstances, and smiled at her brother. Harry had absolutely no doubt that the wrong word--no, the wrong syllable--out of Ron's mouth, and he would be worrying about his sister's virtue from St. Mungo's.

"We were...uh...worried. But you look...safe...so..."

"We'll come back up the house," said Harry. "Come on, Gin." He stood, and reached down to give her a hand up. Somewhat regretfully, they gathered up their clothes and walked slowly back to the house. It was only when they got to the door that Harry realized he'd been holding her hand all the way up from the beach.

"Where were they?" Harry heard Hermione's shout as they came in.

"Relax, 'Mione," said Ron. "They were at the beach."

"Harry was feeling down," said Ginny defensively. "So I took him for a swim."

"I feel loads better now," said Harry, and then blushed as he realized how it sounded.

"I'm sure you do," said Neville.

"Ginny," said Hermione disapprovingly. "You did know what happens to white clothes when they get wet, didn't you."

Ginny fixed her with a stare that clearly told her not to pursue the issue. "Well," said Harry hastily. "How was the Wizengamot?"

"Brutal, as always," said Ron. "I'll tell you all about it, and we need to hear what 'Mione found in the library, but I'm not talking to either of you until you get dressed."

"You first, Gin," said Harry.

"Oh, bollocks," she said. "Come on." Pulling him by their still-joined hands, she dragged him up the stairs. As Harry shut the door behind them, he heard Ron's voice.

"What happened to putting her elbow in the butter dish?"

*****

Susan was thoroughly annoyed with the entire Wizengamot by now. In three days, all they had accomplished was to chase Harry out of the Chamber and run their collective mouths about nothing at all. That horrid Lacklin fellow was on his feet again, running his mouth about the tragedy for Muggle relations that would result from freeing Sirius Black. Susan knew, of course, that David Lacklin cared about as much for Muggle relations as she cared for the idea of snogging Professor Snape. The whole point of the charade was to keep Harry from voting in the Court of the Sorcerers. So far, it was working.

Harry was in hiding somewhere; that much she had figured out when he fled from the well of the Wizengamot Chamber three days ago. She had seen him at Hogwarts, when they came to collect the testimony, but she hadn't seen him since. At least he looks better, she thought. He was such a wreck all last year. She knew her Aunt Amelia was convinced she fancied Harry, and she knew nothing she could say would convince her guardian otherwise. But she also thought, like most of the students in their year, that it was only a matter of time before Harry and Hermione Granger began dating--if they weren't already. So it had never seemed practical to fancy Harry, at least not on that level.

Of course, there wasn't a witch in their year who didn't think Harry was good-looking. A lot of them focused on his hair, or his arms, or other parts that Susan wasn't going to think about in the Wizengamot. For Susan, though, it was his eyes. When she had first met him, in Herbology class their first year, she had felt as though those brilliant green eyes were looking right through hers. Over the years, the shine and sparkle had faded, replaced by a gradually haunted look. Last year, it had been impossible to find a spark in them at all. They had been distant, empty. Not dead, for there was still a beautiful sheen of life--and love--in them, but the pain was all too evident. The pain was so near, so raw, so devastatingly real, that Susan thought her heart would break just from looking into those once-brilliant eyes.

She had some idea, of course, of what he was going through. In the spring, Azkaban had been emptied, and Antonin Dolohov, of all people, had escaped. Suddenly, it was all over the papers that he had been imprisoned for the murder of Edgar Bones, and the questions came pouring in. Susan lost track of how many times she told some inquisitive younger student that yes, Dolohov had killed her parents. She lost track of the number of times she had fumed to Hannah that Dolohov was imprisoned for the murder of Edgar Bones, and that no wizard gave a damn what happened to Laura Bones. Finally, she understood the Harry Potter phenomenon. She knew what it felt like to be the center of attention. If only the damned Prophet hadn't printed that name.

Then, about a month later, Harry had given that interview. The day after the interview came out was the closest she came to actually fancying Harry Potter. Hannah still loved to give her hell for it. She had spent nearly the whole night rambling on about how brave, how wonderful, how honorable he was. And then the next morning she saw him side by side with Granger in Herbology, and her practical side kicked in again. Besides which, she was sure that about half the girls in three houses had been up that night rambling about how brave, wonderful, and honorable Harry Potter was.

She hadn't counted on seeing him in the Wizengamot, nor had she counted on those eyes being as full of life as they had been that day. She had hugged him on impulse--not that she generally went about hugging famous heroes in the Wizengamot Chamber, but it wasn't that horrible. When she had whispered to him that she believed him about Black, she actually felt the thrill that went through him. She hadn't told him, of course, that after the last year, she would have believed him no matter what he said. If there was one thing she had realized about Harry Potter, it was that he was scrupulously honest. She had made a vow to herself, before she even pulled away from him in the well, that she would get Sirius Black pardoned. She knew it was too late, really, but she also knew it was a small contribution she could make for him.

Really, honestly, she didn't fancy Harry Potter. She just cared about his happiness almost as much as her own. She didn't fancy him, but she was addicted to his eyes--and the glow that they had when he was happy. She was determined to do anything she could to keep that spark there as much as possible.

"Miss Bones?" The recorder's voice was like a wand-light piercing through her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Your vote, Miss Bones. Do you agree with the resolution pardoning Sirius Black of all crimes for which he was convicted?"

"Yes, of course I do."

She heard the vote-counting go on for a few more minutes, running a mental tally in her head. Four more votes to go, and they were up by two votes. "Mr. Van Dorn?"

"Nay."

They needed two more votes. Two of the three left had to support them. They had to be convinced. "Madam Wendell?"

"Aye."

Hallelujah! If either of the last two votes with us, we have it! We have it!

"Miss Wilkes?"

"Nay."

Oh, Merlin. Zabini's a Slytherin. We're doomed.

"Mr. Zabini?"

"Aye."

Susan couldn't restrain herself. She jumped into the air, let out a whoop of joy, and ran out of the room. She didn't stop running until she got into the Chamber and found Ron and Neville. "Ron...Neville...did it! Black! He's cleared!"

She hadn't expected both of them to hug her so ferociously that she couldn't breathe. Nor for them to race from the Chamber as fast as she had come in, calling back that they'd see her tomorrow. She stared rather wistfully after them, wishing she had been a part of that wonderful group, and hoping that she had brought a glow to Harry Potter's eyes.

*****

Harry had felt more awkward in his life, but he couldn't honestly remember when. Either Ginny was so far over her crush on him that she was treating him no differently than her other six brothers, or she was so desperate to have him notice her that she was willing to do almost anything to make him. Whatever it was, Harry was trying as desperately as he could to act like beautiful women stripped naked in front of him every day. To her credit, she moved quickly. It was less than a minute from the time she has pulled off her wet things--mercifully, with her back turned to him--to the time she had turned back to face him, fully clothed. He hadn't moved a muscle.

"Honestly, Harry, we are going to have to do better. How on earth do you expect to be able to live with us for the next month if you act like that every time you see a girl?"

"Uh..."

"Come on, you can't sit around all day in wet shorts." He still couldn't move. "Oh, all right. I'll go downstairs. Hurry up, though."

Harry changed as quickly as he could, and ran down the stairs. "Okay," said Hermione. "Ron and Neville first, then we'll tell what we found. And I don't want to know what you two did."

"Well, Sirius was cleared," said Ron. "Susan came and told us in the Chamber, so we came straight here."

"Almost straight here," Neville corrected. "We stopped and saw Dumbledore first. He talked to Madam Bones. She says this means we can actually probate his will, now, but..."

"Moody came in while we were talking to Dumbledore. He said that cleaning up Morag Castle was going better than expected, as far as he was concerned. He thought it would be usable before the end of the weekend. Which means Dumbledore arranged for the reading of the will to be there."

"Why?" said Harry.

"To be safer. Don't look at me, it was Dumbledore's idea. What about you, 'Mione?"

"Well," said Hermione, appearing in the doorway, "we've eliminated everyone in first and second years--well, going into second and third years--and none of last years seventh years are still at Hogwarts. I still think Susan's the best lead, but we can't seem to piece together her genealogy before 1822."

"That's a funny year to pick," said Ron. "Any idea why?"

"None whatsoever," said Ginny. "Believe me; we've been over the bleeding thing a thousand times. Unless someone can find something on the hidden ancestors of one Gerald Casey Bones, we've hit a dead end."

"And Ginny's book hasn't got any hints on where Bones comes from, except that it's English."

"Well, we knew that," said Harry.

"English, not Scottish," said Hermione in a slightly patronizing tone.

"Oh, right. And we're looking for the Ambrosius of Scotland."

"Hey," said Neville. "Maybe the line was transmitted through a woman, and came down to this Gerald Casey Bones' wife."

"Nev," said Hermione. "You're making me look bad."

"Sometimes," said a voice from the doorway, "all it takes is a fresh pair of eyes."

"Remus!" said Harry. "I thought you were at Morag!"

"Nah, I've come to collect you lot. You've all been conscripted into the cleaning brigade."

Harry was about to protest, but realized it was probably useless. Besides, he thought, there are worse things than cleaning up another Grimmauld Place.

Remus held out a picture frame, and they all took hold. Harry felt the familiar jerk of a Portkey, and Padfoot's vanished.

The Portkey dropped them onto a rolling lawn. At least, it used to be a rolling lawn. Since the castle had been abandoned, it seemed as though the woods on either side of the lawn had decided to reclaim the greensward. Harry caught a glimpse of the castle at the top of the lawn, which sloped distinctly upwards as it neared the building. As they approached the top, however, Harry saw that what he thought was the front of the castle was actually an outer wall. The castle itself was more frightening than he had imagined it, perched on a cliff overlooking the choppy waters of Loch Fyne.

The turrets rose, massive and square, lit by the sun setting at his back. A tall, thick curtain wall ran around the very edge of the plateau that housed the castle, with a single gate directly at the end of the lawn. Two immense gargoyles in the shape of Hebridean Black dragons guarded the front gate. Remus led them up a winding step cut into the very side of the cliff, and onto the front steps, below the looming stone dragons. "Now stay close to me or Moody," he warned.

They went to the right hand tower, to the third floor, where Remus and Moody set them to work clearing a room of sinister looking, pearly gray eggs. "It's no big deal," said Moody. "Worst thing we've found so far was a nest of Runespoors. Blasted Blacks must have been breeding the things in here." Harry raised his eyebrows. Runespoors weren't awful, but they weren't exactly puffskeins either.

Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Remus were left to clear the third floor of the pearly eggs, while Moody took the others up another level to deal with a doxy infestation. Harry remembered the doxies at Grimmauld Place, and silently blessed the eggs, even though they looked more menacing each time he picked one up.

He had just come from taking a load of eggs to the bottom of the tower when he heard Ginny shriek. In a matter of seconds, he was across the room and at her side. "What?"

"Nothing...sorry, just a rat. It startled me, that's all."

"Well, where'd it go?"

"In there." She indicated a hole in the masonry under one of the narrow windows.

"Well, leave it for now," said Remus. "I'm more worried about whatever's in these eggs."

They worked for two hours before the room was clear, and Moody and the other teens came down to confer with Remus. Moody and Remus whispered to each other for a moment, then Remus nodded. "Okay, follow us, all six of you." They led the way all the way down from the tower, through the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall, and down two more levels, into the dungeons.

It was the creepiest, most unnerving place Harry had ever been. It was worse than the dark corridors of the Triwizard maze. It was even worse than the graveyard in Little Hangleton. The walls were of almost black stone. Cobwebs of incredible size dangled from empty torch brackets as the lone torch Moody carried cast flickering shadows into the nooks and crevices of the rough-hewn, vault-like tunnel. Every few minutes, they came to a door. Moody would unlock it and open it from a distance, while the others all crouched around it, wands at the ready. The tension was high; the only sound, the water dripping from the arched ceiling.

The first two cells were empty. The third wasn't. Harry was certain he heard rough breathing behind the door before it was opened. However, Moody still cast the spells, the door swung open on rusty hinges, and there was an evil rumbling from inside. Harry half-expected a Skrewt to shoot out, until he heard a snort, and a swishing sound that was unmistakably the spreading of huge wings.

"What on earth?" hissed Neville.

The students crouched in a semicircle around the doorway, waiting. With a soft flapping, a great red-gold lion flew out of the cell door and touched down inside the arc formed by the eight humans. It had a human face, noble and majestic, yet cruel and hard-set at the same time. The body was sleek, the coat shiny and glimmering in the torchlight. It folded its leathery wings to its sides, and curled its sharp, barbed tail over its back.

"A manticore!" whispered Hermione in awe.

Instead of attacking, though, the beast looked around it. For a moment, it seemed puzzled, then turned its gaze on Remus. "Master," came a growling, guttural voice. "I bow to you, Lycanthrope." It knelt on its front paws, lowering its beautiful face to the floor and curling its stinger back.

The look of shock on Remus' face was only momentary, replaced by a hard, bestial glare. "What are you doing in this place?"

"I serve the house of Black, Lycanthrope."

"This is the heir of the house of Black," said Remus, pointing to Harry. "You will bow to him."

"Master," growled the manticore, turning to bow to Harry. "It has been long. Why has the old master not returned?"

"He fell on hard times," said Remus. "This is the heir of the house of Black."

"I believe you. You may pass, if you desire." Harry started to walk through, but Remus held him back.

"Later. For now, it's late, and you have to get back to Padfoot's tonight. We can come back tomorrow or the next day and see what he's guarding."

"As the Master wishes," growled the manticore. It turned and walked regally back into the cell, the door flying magically shut as it passed.

"Wow," said Ron, examining the doorway through which it had disappeared. "I thought Kreacher was the most dangerous servant the Blacks had." Everyone laughed nervously, but Remus continued to hurry the students upstairs

It was late when they got back, and they were exhausted from the cleaning, and the shock of the manticore. Within about fifteen minutes after Remus left, all six of the students were sound asleep upstairs.

Hermione was up cooking breakfast when Harry's nose woke him the next morning. He stumbled downstairs in his pyjamas to find her humming at the stove, working a magic of a different sort on his olfactory nerves. It wasn't long before everyone in the house fell victim to the spell of the sausages, and soon enough six hungry students were seated around the table.

"Well," said Hermione, pulling another huge book of genealogical charts out from under her chair and dropping it on the table with a crash, "Neville was right."

"'Mione, not at breakfast," said Ron. "Certain things are unassailable. Food and Quidditch. That's about it. I would say sleep, but we don't need that here when we have to spend most of each day in the bloody Wizengamot."

"Ron, this is important."

"Preventing starvation is important, too."

"Oh, honestly. You're not wasting away."

"And Voldemort won't be affected by you finding Gerald Casey Bones' wife's grandfather before I'm done with my toast."

Hermione shook her head. Harry leaned over to Ginny. "Lower the odds on them. She didn't rise to the bait."

Ginny snickered. "I still favor the other two. In fact, who knows what they get up to out in the garden all those times?"

"Good point."

"Oi, Potter! Quit whispering over there. We got something."

"A paint color for the sitting room?"

"No, you bloody idiot. Gerald Casey Bones was married to Cassiopeia Anatolia Bones."

"We knew that six days ago. You interrupt my conversation for that."

"Well, that and trying to keep you from whispering indecent suggestions to my sister."

"Sod off."

"No, wait," said Neville. "Cassiopeia Anatolia Bones was born Cassiopeia Anatolia Black."

"Black?" asked Harry

"Yeah," said Ron. "Reckon you can get a hold of Sirius' family charts."

"No need," said Hermione. "I have the Black table in here somewhere." She was still trying to locate the family chart for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black when Remus arrived for his mid-morning checkup.

"Well, I've convinced the manticore to take a trip to Hogwarts," he said. "Hagrid about kissed me when he heard about it."

"Eurgh!" said Ron. "That's an image I didn't need."

"Bloody hell," said Neville. "As if hippogriffs and Blast-Ended Skrewts weren't bad enough, now we're going to have a manticore in class. I'm doomed."

Hermione cut the laughter with a whoop of delight from the kitchen, and ran into the sitting room holding a huge tome open to near the middle. She pointed out a line in the middle of the right-hand page, and sure enough, Cassiopeia Anatolia Black was the only daughter of Orion Malcolm Black.

"Remus, where is Sirius' family from?" asked Harry.

"Originally? Scotland, I think. Argyllshire. That's where Morag is."

"So in the 1820's, this Cassiopeia Anatolia Black married a Bones, and that was where the Bones family inherited the line?" asked Ron.

"Sounds right," said Hermione

"So what happens when we go back along the Black line?" asked Harry.

Remus never got a chance to answer. A flash of flame appeared in the center of the room, followed by a single feather, and a bunch of envelopes. "Ah," said Remus. "Fawkes brought your O.W.L. results."

Hermione was across the room in a flash, tearing into her envelope. "Sixteen! Sixteen O.W.L.s! O in everything but Astronomy! And an E in that, and they really should take into account--"

"'Mione, let the rest of us read our letters," said Ron.

"Oh, right. What'd you all get?"

"I got O in Herbology and Defense," said Neville. "I passed everything. Even Potions. No more Snape for me."

Harry was reluctant to open his letter. Finally, he tore through the Hogwarts seal and pulled out the parchment.

Ordinary Wizarding Levels for Harry James Potter

Hogwarts, Class of 1998

Astronomy Theory Acceptable

Astronomy Practice Poor

Astronomy O.W.L.s 1

Care of Magical Creatures Theory Exceeds Expectations

Care of Magical Creatures Practice Exceeds Expectations

Care of Magical Creatures O.W.L.s 2

Charms Theory Outstanding

Charms Practice Exceeds Expectations

Charms O.W.L.s 2

Defense Against the Dark Arts Theory Outstanding

Defense Against the Dark Arts Practice Outstanding--Perfect Score

Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s 2

Divination Practice Poor

Divination O.W.L.s 0

History of Magic Theory Dreadful

History of Magic O.W.L.s 0

Potions Theory Exceeds Expectations

Potions Practice Outstanding

Potions O.W.L.s 2

Transfiguration Theory Outstanding

Transfiguration Practice Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration O.W.L.s 2

Mr. Potter,

As your Head of House, it is my duty to inform you that you have received 11 Ordinary Wizarding Levels. As you approach your sixth year, you must now choose classes to study at N.E.W.T. level. The classes open to you are: Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, Potions, and Transfiguration.

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

P.S. The Headmaster has decided to lift your lifetime ban from playing Quidditch, and to reinstate you as Seeker for the Gryffindor House Team.

"I can play Quidditch!"

"That's great, Harry. How many did you get?"

"Eleven. Missed Astronomy, Divination, and History."

"Oh, well, two of those weren't your fault, and Divination is...well, we all know what it's like," said Ron.

"Yeah. And I can take all my Auror classes."

"Awesome."

"Hey, what about you, mate?"

"Eight. And a bonus." He held up a silver badge that looked like his prefect badge. Except it had a snitch on it, and a C.

"Captain?"

"Yep. I guess Katie didn't want it."

"That's awesome. No one better."

"Congratulations to you all, but we do have work to do. And, if I'm not mistaken, we need to go to Morag tomorrow," said Remus, holding up a letter of his own.

"The will?" asked Harry.

"Yes. And since four of you are named in it, you might as well all come."

"Okay."

"Okay, get some rest, don't worry about the Ambrosii tonight. We've got a good start, and you've been invaluable. The will is going to take up most of the day tomorrow, and it's a hell of a thing, so be prepared." Remus tossed the powder into the fireplace, and disappeared back to Headquarters.