The Secret Magic Of Potions And Daggers

Chapter Seven

“What type of witchcraft is this?” Fudge burst into the room to witness his own guards dancing with ghost. Genevieve snatched the coin out of the air stopping the music instantly.

“I apologize Minister,” Genevieve addressed him from between several ghosts. “I hope you were not offended if this occasion was not treated with the soberness one might think appropriate. I needed something to take my mind off my son.” Snuffles jerked his head around in surprise and looked at Genevieve, she noticed and mouthed the words ‘I’ll explain later’, to him.

“I have spoken to that someone you brought as Peter Pettigrew, and he seems to go along with the story about your offspring. I have my doubts that perhaps he is one of your kind in that form to fool us, but all that will be addressed in a trial in two weeks. In the mean time, I suggest you do not try any of your evil tricks.” He left the room followed by his guards, avoiding ghosts in his path. The Grey Lady glided toward Genevieve.

“What are you going to do?” She asked.

“Personally, I’m going to the forest to get my child before Voldemort becomes impatient and kills him.” She stood and straightening the hem of her robe strode toward the door. Snuffles bounded in front of her and then changed back into a man.

“You can’t leave. It will only be used as evidence against both of us.”

She cast her eyes to the ground. “My son is helpless in the clutches of a mad man and you expect me to sit here until the ministry decides to execute me.” Flitwick climbed up on a desk to look Genevieve in the eye.

“He Who Must Not Be Named would not kill your son if he can raise a part-boggart to be on his side. That at least buys us some time doesn’t it?”

“Not necessarily.” She passed them both then stopped in the doorway. Without looking back she informed them, “My son is a Squib,” and walked out. Dumbledore caught her before she left the castle and offered,

“Stay. If we plan this out and work together we’ll have a better chance.” Genevieve turned to look at Dumbledore, nodded and went back into their conference room.

No trace of her previous feebleness existed as she stood at the head of the table. McGonagall had asked Harry to leave but Genevieve insisted he stay, so he stood to her left. On his other side were Sirius, then Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick on a chair. Once again Genevieve gracefully released the coin over the scroll and for a second time the characters on the page rose to meet it.

Then, the instructions for coin making also rose as did several other layers. Genevieve’s hand remained outstretched over the coin until eight levels had shown themselves and then risen. Before them lay a recipe for a potion, and pictures of ghosts, fairies, and creatures and characters with which Harry was unfamiliar. All were silent waiting for Genevieve to explain. She leaned over the scroll and read to herself, slowly moving her lips.

“What we have here,” she began, “is the plan we found and had intended to use to destroy Voldemort before young Harry did it for us. I believe it will still work.” She took a separate piece of parchment and quill, copied the potion and handed it to Snape.

“This is your department, Snape.” He did not take it, but let it fall on the desk in front of him. “The key to this plan is Light. A simple principle, light dispels darkness. Light and Dark cannot occupy the same place at the same time. We will gather every light source we can, flood the forest with them and then with weapons drenched in that potion we will be sufficiently armed.”

Snape picked up the parchment she had dropped in front of him, “What sort of potion is this?”

“You are familiar with forms of it. It is an iteration of the Illumination Liquids but much more complicated and powerful. It should be light yellow and will behave similar to melted wax if prepared carefully. But you are not ‘completely useless’ and should be able to complete it.” She spoke almost mockingly to Snape, as he had to her the day she arrived. “Once it is done we will attack the next day, with the morning light.” She looked into each face around the table every one of which stood silently looking at the scroll. Dumbledore was the first to speak,

“It is a good plan. I will explain it to the other teachers tomorrow morning. In the mean time we will have a lot of uneasy students and school must continue. I am open to suggestions for boosting confidence and morale if any of you have one.”

Professor McGonagall was the first with a brainstorm, “How about a formal ball, Albus.” Harry inwardly groaned because last years dance had been a harrowing experience.

“That sounds like a marvelous idea. It will show everyone the confidence we have in defeating Voldemort and be a host of fun.” Flitwick agreed.

* * * * *

Christmas vacation flew to an end and the students returned on a reputably uneventful train ride. That night Dumbledore addressed them all at a feast to explain, in part, the plan.

“Students, welcome back. I have a bit of a surprise for you. To celebrate your bravery and good work so far on Wednesday evening we will have a formal ball and all classes will be canceled Thursday and Friday.” Cheers echoed through the great hall. Harry turned to Morgain, and sitting across from them, Ron faced Hermione. The boys asked in unison,

“Will you go with me?”

The girls looked at them and then each other grinning, answering together, “Yes.” Dumbledore continued,

“With this, I trust each of you will continue, and or improve your strong efforts toward your studies. If so we may make this a more common event. Enjoy the Feast.” With these last words delectable dishes of all assortments filled the tables such that no one went to bed that night left wanting.

Genevieve was rarely seen around the castle during the week that followed though her preparations for the eminent battle were easily recognizable. Ghosts from all over the countryside arrived in large groups and over ran the dungeons and many of the classrooms. Pixies and Fairies skipped through the hallways, not so easily contained. As classes began again the teachers were so distracted they neglected to give homework. All of them that is, except Snape. His mood was nastier than ever and not even Draco dared snicker in his class.

Harry, Hermione and Ron, after an exhausting potions lesson were walking toward their common room when they noticed that there were no ghosts around Genevieve’s closet and the door stood slightly ajar. Cautiously they approached it, Harry in the lead. He reached out his hand slowly and creaked open the door, peeking in side. It was dark and cool, so cold in fact that it crept into Harry. Waves of cool air lapped around Harry’s chest making it hard to breathe.

Out of the cupboard floated a tall dementor. Harry fumbled for his wand, Hermione had hers ready. Before either of them could get a spell out the dementor fell onto its hands and knees coughing. A slimy scab covered hand pulled down its hood and Genevieve’s long golden hair cascaded to the floor. Still coughing and gasping for breath Genevieve sat up shaking her head as though to clear it.

“Don’t do that Harry!” Genevieve exclaimed.

“Do what?” He was still startled, though the chill was beginning to wear off. Genevieve’s cloak returned to normal, with her bag slung across her chest. She reached into it and pulled out enough chocolate for all four of them.

“Sneak up on me like that.” She took a large bit of chocolate and rested her head against the wall; her eyes unfocused gazed at the ceiling. “I was sleeping and that is one nasty fear you have.”

“I am freezing.” Ron rubbed his shoulders still shuddering.

“Imagine having a dementor inside you.” She leaned her head from side to side to crack her neck.

“You know our fears?” Harry asked awkwardly. “What type of boggart would I be if I couldn’t?” She bit off another piece of chocolate and chewed it slowly.

“Why don’t you change into a dementor every time I come near you then?”

“Self-control mostly. It helps that I have some witch blood coursing through my veins. So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” The chocolate helped her regain her usual composure and she stood up.

“All your ghost friends were gone and the door was open so we came to make sure you are ok.” Ron said taking more chocolate from Genevieve.

“They are all preparing for the ball and the battle so I sent them away. Not to mention it was getting a little chilly with such a congregation of ghosts. They will be back by tomorrow.”

“Genevieve,” Hermione stepped forward to speak to her. “How is it you are so calm when You-Know-Who has your son?” Genevieve’s casual stance solidified and she swallowed hard.

* * * * *

Finally the night of the ball arrived and Harry and Ron waited in the common room for their dates. Sirius, as Snuffles, waited with them. Hermione was the first of their dates to descend the girl’s staircase. Ron stared at her open mouthed because she looked even more beautiful than last year. Her normally frizzy hair was tamed in small ringlets that bounced as she walked. Her light purple robes flowed gracefully behind her. She engaged Ron in a conversation about Hherbology, mostly to prove to him it really was her. Most of the other girls had met their dates and left before Morgain appeared at the top of the steps. Her robes and dress of deep green complemented her eyes, which were fixed on Harry. Her hair, held back in elaborate braids except for three long ringlets to the right of her face, shimmered in the firelight. Harry gave her his arm and walked behind Ron and Hermione, in awe of her.

In the hallway they encountered Genevieve who stopped to face them. She wore a large, bell shaped emerald green dress trimmed by lace and pearls. An emerald green leather bodice laced in front was partially covered with a velvet black cloak. Her hood, pinned up in her braided hair, framed her pale face.

“Morgain,” Genevieve approached her. “I did not know you had come to school,” she bowed before Harry’s date, to his surprise, but Morgain quickly bade her rise.

“I am here because of you. Her Ladyship forbade it all those years, but you argued a great case.” The two embraced as friends. Snuffles barked softly and stood beside Genevieve as her escort.

The students filed into the Great Hall accompanied by a lovely classical piece played by a small orchestra set where the teachers table was normally. The long tables had been replaced by several small tables near the walls leaving room in the center for dancing. Harry, Morgain, Ron, Hermione, Genevieve and Snuffles found adjacent tables. From menus on their plates they could either order a steak and salad dish, or chicken and potatoes.

As they ate Genevieve was approached by several ghosts who whispered in her ear. Each one she answered briefly, until Nearly Headless Nick drew near.

“Please Sir Nicholas, join me.” She offered politely.

“I had hoped we could finish our conversation tonight.” He appeared timid to Harry and Morgain, smiling, suggested they listen carefully.

“I counted on it Sir. You asked those many years ago for my special brand of help and it pained me to leave without it completed.” Genevieve and Sir Nicholas used such proper and lavish language with each other the conversation could have dragged on for hours if she hadn’t struck right to the point.

“Your request is to complete the partial beheading that has left you in your current condition. You must be quite sure you want this done. There is no way to reverse it if you change your mind later, understood.”

“Yes, my lady. I am sure.”

“We shall see. When the time comes you will have a split second to decide how attached you are to your cranium, no pun intended. In that moment of truth, desires not even you knew you had will become apparent to all. Are you prepared for that?”

“Yes, I have been preparing for this moment for centuries.”

“Is she a ghost?” Harry wondered why Morgain was not as surprised by what she had just seen.

“She can be anything she wants, even a ghost.” Morgain said, not taking her eyes off the strange couple who had approached the band and whispered in the conductor’s ear. “Just watch, this is where she gets good.” She wrinkled her nose in anticipation and Harry returned to watching the dancers.

As Genevieve and Nick glided through students to the middle of the floor the others left, leaving them alone. The music started slowly. Nick bowed to Genevieve, she curtsied in return and they faced palm to palm. Together and apart they stepped, barely touching until the music picked up tempo. Around they floated, spinning gracefully together and then Genevieve twirling at his side. Harry had never seen Nearly Headless Nick as happy as at that moment. Genevieve elegantly broke her hand free on yet another spin and retrieved from her cloak a six inch dagger, as translucent as them both, though it strangely reflected the candles hanging above them. Those who noticed it gasped. Harry was stopped from crying out a warning to Nick by Morgain who simply put a finger to his lips and then pointed back to them.

Genevieve spun again this time raising her blade and slicing it through the air toward Sir. Nicholas. Inches away from his neck he spotted it and responded by breaking away from her. She stopped and stared at him replacing the blade in her cloak, and he gazed at her with frightened and then knowing eyes. He bowed again, she curtsied and they finished the last few measures left in the dance. Genevieve walked toward the table as Nearly Headless Nick, remaining nearly headless, floated out the doors.

“What was that?” Harry asked Genevieve.

“His moment came, and his decision made. Now he has to learn to live with it.” Genevieve spoke as the color came back to her dress and skin.

“What do you mean?”

“He asked me to sever that which was holding his head to his neck, but when I went to do it he realized, in that smallest of instants, what he thought he wanted was not compatible with his true desires or his best welfare and happiness.” She straightened the many layers of her bulging dress before adding, “Why aren’t you dancing? It’s quite exciting out there.” She pointed to the dance floor where a few brave couples had resumed dancing.

“I don’t dance very well,” Harry twiddled his fingers as he said it.

“If my memory serves me right, Morgain, you know how. Teach your friend. You too Mr. Weasley, Miss Grainger. Dance. As for me, I will get some fresh air. Care to join me Snuffles?” The smiled kindheartedly and the two of them walked to the door disappearing from view.

“I have never been steered wrong following her advice,” Morgain laughed. “Let’s dance.” She and Harry danced on the edge of the dance floor until Harry found the courage to lead her into a rousing waltz. By the time that song was over, both were glad they’d taken Genevieve’s guidance and continued dancing until they collapsed into their chairs again.

Ron and Hermione also danced and shortly sank into their chairs laughing by Harry and Morgain.

“I wonder where they went,” Morgain asked the other three.

“Where who went,” Ron asked, still laughing.

“Genevieve and that dog of yours Harry.” Harry instantly stiffened.

“What makes you think he’s my dog?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Ok, so he’s not your dog, but only because he’s not a dog. I think it is wonderful for Genevieve to have a friend like that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry was now getting very defensive.

“You think I would tell anyone? So, they’ve got an animagi protecting ‘Famous Harry Potter’. Right they should with all that is written in the stars for you. I only wondered what chemistry was brewing between them. Let’s go find out.” She ran out the front door before Harry was even half way across the hall. Trailed by Ron and Hermione, Harry ran after Morgain to the corner of the castle over looking the lake. Morgain hid herself, and the others, behind a bush as she scanned the grounds.

“Over there,” she pointed toward the lake.

Harry, Ron and Hermione squinted to see two figures, both in human form, approach the dark water. They could see Genevieve reach into her bag and retrieve her peculiar wand. From her fist burst a wreath of horizontally spinning flowers into which Sirius and Genevieve stepped. Over the lake it glided with them, and they danced over the dark, icy depths. Harry looked at Morgain who watched them with satisfaction.

“It’s her time for great things,” Morgain commented about the scene before leading them all back into the castle.

“What do you know about Genevieve?” Harry asked Morgain once they were back inside alone.

“If I tell you her secrets, she may tell you mine. I will tell you that she and my sister are old friends.”

“Then you know she is part-boggart?”

“If she weren’t she would never have met my sister.”

Harry decided to lay his cards on the table. “Are you from Kalla Island?”

Morgain froze as Harry had before, “How did you find out?”

“I found it in a book in the library. It was the only reason that made sense of why Peeves would bow to you.”

“To heck with this all.” She stood in anger. “I’ll go back tomorrow, and never bother you again.”

“Why would you have to leave?”

“Wasn’t that in your book? Because I’m only here to spy on you modern wizards.” She then added hastily, “Not for You Know Who,” because of the fear in Harry’s face.

“Then for whom?” Harry’s wall of suspicion rose higher.

“For my Sister. She is the High Lady of the Island, that’s sort of like your Queen.”

“That would make you a Princess?” Harry stammered.

“Sort of, but that’s not the point. Our island is frequently under attack from outsiders who want our secrets. We harness parts of the Old Magic Dumbledore’s classes taught us. From time to time wizards who found us came in with their wands and spells and whatever else and we knew not how to defend against them. When Genevieve visited our island years ago and then again recently, she suggested to my sister that I be sent to school here to learn the ways of your kind of magic as well as proper defenses that we can use.”

“So that’s why you know herbs and potions but not spells,” Harry now understood.

Morgain nodded but kept her face toward the floor.

“Once this is common knowledge I will have to leave.”

“Let’s make a deal,” Harry looked upon his friend with newfound respect. “If you don’t tell anyone about Snuffles I won’t tell anyone about where you come from. Agreed?”

* * * * *

The morning to execute the plan arrived. The Gryffindor common room was relatively empty as most of the students chose to spend the day off elsewhere, though the snow that lingered kept most of them inside the castle. Genevieve met Harry in the common room where he sat preparing his Firebolt broomstick for the battle.

“What do you think you are doing?” Genevieve asked. She stood above him decked in thick leather armor, her hair completely held back in a bun.

“Today is the day, I’m getting ready.”

“Nice thought, but I have different plans for you than to join the fray.” She motioned Harry to follow which he did with his trusty Firebolt at his side, out of the common room to the wardrobe she occupied. It looked more like a war chest now as weapons of all shapes and sizes lay about. Ghosts frequently came to give her messages interrupting their conversation. She held out her hand to the next messenger to wait, squared Harry’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes.

“I have here my most valuable possessions.” She indicated a small table set next to them. On it rested several of the Travelers Watches she and Harry had used. Some necklaces and a glass box filled with coins. It was this last item she picked up and handed directly to Harry.

“I can not take these into the forest, for if something was to go wrong and these fell into Voldemort’s hands he could double if not triple his power. Then he would be almost unstoppable. I need you to guard them for me. You are not to give them to anyone but me, upon my return. If I don’t come back, place them in your vault at Gringotts. Do this secretly and never speak of them again, or destroy them as you will.” The ghost behind her put his hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Pardon me, but I have urgent news.” These messengers were spirit twins conjoined at the hip, who addressed her with a bow. The one to the right spoke first.

“As there is no delicate way to put this it must be said straight out. Your son has been killed at the hands of Voldemort.”

Genevieve clapped her hands to her mouth and fell to her knees. “How can you be sure?” She gasped her breathing now erratic.

“We witnessed it ourselves. The Death Eaters got news that classes were canceled at the school and assumed you were set to attack. Voldemort himself slit the child’s throat and placed him at the mouth of their camp for you to find.” Harry could tell it pained the ghosts to deliver such information while maintaining the professionalism required of their office.

Genevieve however sobbed openly at the news gasping for breath and then crying even harder. The ghosts each stepped back and knelt in reverence of her loss, Harry did so as well. This scene is what Dumbledore, McGonagall and several other teachers encountered as they rounded the corner, followed swiftly by Minister Fudge.

“What is going on here?” Dumbledore questioned Harry.

“Genevieve’s son was murdered by Voldemort.” Harry thought of the child he’d seen in the portrait and lost a tear. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked Fudge.

“I got word from some parents that you had a peculiar creature on the loose in this castle and that classes had be canceled today and decided to move things up a day. Rightly so, from the looks of things It is leaving without authorization.”

“Minister, she has a good plan for defeating Voldemort once and for all.” Harry pleaded with him to see reason.

“Probably a plan to bring the Dark Lord to full power. Her child’s death was inevitable once she sided with You Know Who and it serves her right,” Cornelius Fudge stepped forward, and began to read from a scroll. “The part-boggart Genevieve is hereby placed under arrest by the Ministry…” he continued reading but no one listened.

Genevieve lifted her head to look disbelievingly at Fudge, breathing heavily. Her face narrowed, eyes focused and she rose from the floor drawing her sword. Fudge stopped reading when he heard the scrape of metal leaving its sheath.

“I’m going to kill him,” she roared running forward, sword in hand, but it was not for the minister she aimed, but down the hall. She leapt through the window shattering the glass, and transforming in midair into an eagle. McGonagall grabbed Harry’s broom that leaned against the wall, mounted it and rode after her. Everyone in the hall rushed to the window to see the two in a mid-air dance of wand bursts, wings and talons amid the flurry of softly falling snow.

Professor McGonagall finally forced the bird to the ground where Genevieve re-appeared, sword still in hand. The two of them spoke angrily on the white slopes of the school before Genevieve and McGonagall came back into the castle. The group at the window then rushed downstairs to meet them in the Great Hall. Both of the women were winded and sat on the floor glaring at each other.

“What is the use of you going off and getting yourself killed like that?” McGonagall yelled contemptibly while stripping Genevieve of her weapon.

“Like staying around here waiting to be put to death is a better use of my time?” She stood and fixed her fly-away hair with the wave of her hand. “Voldemort killed my husband and now my child, and this small minded nit is going to accuse me of cooperating with him.” She pointed toward Fudge and then walked straight toward him.

“There is nothing I, or anyone one else could say to change your mind even though I am innocent. Any proof I offer you believe is contrived any help I give you are suspicious of. So what’s the use?”

“Fortunately for you, and those who want to defeat Voldemort,” Dumbledore spoke with an edge in his voice, “the final decision is not up to the Minister alone or to the small number of friends he brought on this trip. There is to be a full trial, of enough ministry members to make this legal, isn’t that correct Cornelius.” Dumbledore now bore down on Fudge who conceded with a nod.

“It will take at least a month or two notice to get that many members of the ministry together for the trial. Let’s set it up, and this time it will be at the Ministry.” Dumbledore dismissed Fudge and the few Ministry members he had brought.

“Thank you Sir,” Genevieve said as she took Dumbledore’s hand. “I am fortunate to have an advocate such as you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we have a lot of work to do in preparation for the trial. In the mean time we will have to postpone the attack. Keep your ghost friends on regular surveillance. Now let’s dig up all the information we can to keep you alive.”