The Secret Magic Of Potions And Daggers

Chapter Eight

Classes resumed the next week as usual and by the time Potions came around Harry already had a mounting pile of homework.

“I trust the recent disruptions at the school haven’t kept you from your studies,” Snape began his class. “We will be having a pop quiz to ensure it.” He passed out the quizzes and watched Harry and Morgain closely as they began. After Snape returned to his desk Harry noticed an unusual jar on it standing out in sharp contrast next to a flask of Poisoned Dragon’s Liver. It radiated as bright yellow when Snape fingered the jar, and hung to the sides when rotated. ‘That must be the potion Genevieve told him to make’ he thought to himself. The glow from the jar alone was enough to light the usually dim dungeon classroom.

Snape set the class to do busy work after the quiz and continued his study of the special Illumination Liquid. He dipped a small metal knife into the jar and rotated it in the fluid. When he pulled it out the potion congealed on the metal, glowing even brighter.

He, and Harry from afar, studied the potion's effects on different objects. The potion would not adhere to wood or plaster, only metal. But the most interesting quality revealed itself when Snape saw a spider crossing his desk and decided to kill it by stabbing. He used the knife drenched in the liquid and as the potion entered the arachnid it began to glow from within. Whether it died from the stab wound or from being filled with light was indeterminable, but it was clear to Harry that the potion would have worked on Death Eaters.

Harry had never spoken about what he heard of the plan with the other teachers assuming that they were in support of it. During the next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson Harry was determined to ask Professor Figg her impression of the plan as well as Genevieve’s chances for acquittal in a trial. That particular lesson entitles ‘Deceiving effects of popularity and power’ didn’t seem appropriate to interrupt with his question so he waited until after the lesson.

“Professor Figg, I’ve been wondering what chances Genevieve will have once she is put on trial. What do you think?” She looked curtly over her glasses at Harry while searching for words.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with such things Harry. Dumbledore and she spend night and day finding every legal recourse they can and the rat they keep calling Pettigrew, if it really is him, would be strong evidence.”

“You don’t believe it’s Pettigrew?”

“I have not seen him myself, nor would I have any way to tell if it is really him if I did. All I can say is if it is actually him and they say he did so many awful things, why would he be telling the truth now? Answer that and I might believe it.”

Harry left for Herbology wondering, ‘why was Pettigrew telling the truth all of a sudden. It really wasn’t in character for him’. He arrived in the greenhouse before class started and saw Morgain sitting in by the window alone.

“What’s wrong Morgain. You look sad.”

“I’ve just been to see Genevieve and…” she took deep breaths to contain her emotions, “she is not well. Fudge insisted that she be on stabilizing solution 24/7 until the trial is over so she hasn’t been able to regenerate herself in weeks. The ghosts say that the Death Eaters aren’t moving any closer but take her not coming against them as a victory and are growing stronger. The only good news she’s had was the centaurs in the forest took the body of her son and buried it just inside the forest, that’s where I found her.” Morgain pointed out of the Greenhouse window and Harry saw Genevieve a few steps into the forest spread over a freshly dug mound of earth, weeping.

“Is there anything we can do for her?” Harry asked compassionately.

“I think your dog just did.” Morgain and Harry peered out the window again to see Snuffles pulling at Genevieve’s cloak until she sat up. He placed a massive paw on her shoulder and they cried together.

“Good morning class,” Professor Sprout called the class to order. “Today we will be collecting Snow Sticks, can anyone tell me how we recognize one?” Hermione’s hand shot up in the hair, but Professor Spout chose Neville Longbottom to answer.

“They look like twigs sticking out of the ground with snow resting on them, but if you tap it the snow stays on because it’s actually a flower.”

“Very good, Mr. Longbottom. Can anyone else tell me what uses this plant has?” This time she did choose Hermione.

“There are several applications but it is best known for its medicinal quality of bringing down excessively high fevers and as an antidote for some of the more gruesome poisons. It is rarely used because its side effects include delirium, fatigue and visual hallucinations.”

“Thank you Miss Granger, that was very thorough. Now, all of you pick up a basket on your way out and find as many as you can. Mind you don’t go into the forest and stay in groups.”

Harry and Morgain were not looking for Snow Sticks, rather they sought their sorrowful friends in the forest. They first heard them talking in the distance and crept forward to listen. Genevieve spoke first.

“I am so sorry Sirius. Now that no one believes Wormtail is Peter Pettigrew there is no evidence to help your trial. I should never have come back to this place.”

“Nonsense my friend,” Sirius’ voice spoke softly and reassuringly to her. “You did what you thought was best. I am proud of you and grateful for your friendship.”

“I would have died for my son had I the chance, as Lily did. Gosh I miss her and James. He would know what to do in my predicament.”

“I miss them too.” Sirius spoke solemnly. Harry peeked around a tree to see them sitting on a log with their backs facing him a bit deeper into the forest.

Genevieve adopted a sweet singing voice that sounded to Harry remarkably like his mother, “Lily would say, ‘My dear friend, the answer to your current quandary is easiest solved in the smallest pieces.”

Sirius smiled, “You’ve got her down pat. Then James would say, ‘After a walk in the forest to clear my mind I’ve decided would like another walk in the forest.” Sirius laughed, and Harry found himself laughing as well.

“Yes, and then we would all run through the woods till we got to the old elm. My mother would unpack a picnic and we’d eat tarts so light they almost floated off the ground.” Her voice drifted off in pursuit of such a happy memory. “I remember that. We would cast spells to make the clouds into the shapes we wanted them to be. The ministry got so mad at us; James and I were almost expelled. That was a great summer.”

“Grandpa Potter was very annoyed with me for letting things get out of hand like that. But he could never get really angry. Do you remember when we were younger, at nights he would sit us all down and recount the great stories of the past. Legends and histories of times long forgotten.”

“That was why James and I took up Old Magic studies you know. He wanted to bring back the noblest part of those times he heard about in Grandpa Potter’s stories.”

“What else do you think James would say right now?”

“He would tell you that your fight has only started and that you have to be brave enough to see it though to the end.”

“Yeah, he would say just that. And then Lily would say, ‘Harry, what are you doing this deep in the forest’?”

She turned her head swiftly to see Harry and Morgain who stood guiltily, rooted to the spot. Sirius transformed into Snuffles and he and Genevieve approached the two. Close up Genevieve’s red puffy eyes gave away the fact that she had been crying, though she was not now.

“We were looking for Snow Sticks for Herbology.” Harry offered as a weak excuse.

“Morgain, you should have put Harry right. You know that those do not grow under the canopy of trees, just on the edges. Get back to class.”

“Tell me more about my parents,” Harry pleaded. Genevieve smiled down at Harry’s insistent eyes.

“Tonight, meet me at my wardrobe and I will tell you fantastical stories of the best people I ever had the privilege to know. But now, go back to class.”

The rest of the day inched by while Harry anticipated the stories Genevieve would tell.

“Ron, Hermione. Guess what. Genevieve is going to tell me all about my parents tonight.”

“That will be fascinating. Can we come,” Hermione asked. Harry thought about it for a while, whether he wanted the experience for himself or to share it. He decided after a while that his closest friends could only enhance the occasion and invited them. When the last class was finished Harry took two bites of his mashed potatoes before running upstairs, Hermione and Ron not far behind. At the Wardrobe, Harry saw Snuffles and several ghosts, standing guard as usual. Snuffles sounded two friendly barks and Genevieve opened the door. The three friends and the dog entered what appeared from the outside to be just furniture. The inside was a different story entirely. Decorated with green carpet and chairs was a space nearly the size of Harry’s dorm room. A warming, smokeless fire burned in the center of the room.

“Harry, would you mind locking the door with a spell. I haven’t felt up to magic lately.” Genevieve did indeed appear weaker and Harry bound the doors shut then joined them around the fire.

“I’m not sure where to begin, I’ve known the Potters for as long as I can remember.” She settled in her chair and Sirius as a man, sat next to her. “Let’s start with these troublemakers in school. Sirius tells me you have encountered the Marauder’s Map they made. What a beautiful piece of magic that was. I only heard most of this from letters James sent home and what they told me later, so Sirius you had better correct me if I get my facts mixed up.” She smiled, which greatly improved her appearance.

“James and Lily met here at school. They were quite competitive with each other. James loved to show off for her, which at first she found childish but was eventually impressed and they became friends. The summer between their sixth and seventh years she came to stay at the Potter House. Sirius lived near by and the four of us had great times. I was only a bit younger than them, but my parents hadn’t allowed me to come to Hogwarts, the reasons for which I found out myself once I did finally come.” She drifted off as though reliving a painful memory. “But that is neither here nor there. Where were we? Ah yes, that summer. Our favorite game was to run through the groves after James while he would gallop as a magnificent stag. We always ended by this gigantic elm tree where we could do magic unobserved. The forest had a few Muggle protections around it and given the fact that, well they were the Potters, the ministry usually left us alone.”

“What did being a Potter have to do with it, back then I mean?” Harry asked. Genevieve looked from him to Sirius bewildered.

“Your ancestors created the Ministry of Magic ages ago during a time of complete chaos. It began as a Monarchy, handing down the Minister seat from father to son until about five centuries ago when Pariah Potter, fearing an overthrow and the possibility of corruption, transformed the Minister position into an elected one which is what we have now. He then allotted an inheritance for himself and built the Potter House and planted the forest to hide it. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“Why am I always the last to know these things?” Harry was impressed by his heritage, but again felt left out of his own past.

“I didn’t even know all that,” Hermione was amazed. “That’s not in any book I read.”

“Of course not. The Ministry records were kept on scrolls, and since back then they had work more than they had time to write most of it is not on paper, but has been kept as an oral history, so it’s not common knowledge to anyone but history scholars and those who sat by Grandpa Potter on warm summer evenings. Those scrolls that were written have been carefully preserved by your ancestors and are…” her voice stopped abruptly though her mouth kept moving. Awareness washed over her face and she dashed about the room searching for something.

“Where is parchment and quill when you need them? Wait, I’ve got something that will work in here.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a spiral notebook and ball point pen and began to scribble on the paper. Ron looked curiously at the device as he had never seen one before.

“What are those,” Ron asked Genevieve, but she continued writing in the notebook. Harry leaned toward Ron.

“Those are what Muggles use instead of quills and parchment. The ink is inside the pen so you don’t have to dip it, and the paper is held together by the metal rings down the side.”

“How odd,” Ron said as he surveyed the writing implements. Genevieve however was not paying attention to them, put utterly engrossed in recording her memory.

“Sirius, it is all so simple. The catacombs and vaults under the house see.” She reveled the page she had been pouring over so all saw the drawing. It resembled a map, though quite messy having been drawn in such haste. “It would be just here,” she pointed to and then marked the place with an X. That’s where James would have put everything.” She stood and while sprinkling ash into the fire called, “Carsy, may I borrow a moment of your time.” Out of the fire walked a small, long eared house elf. She hopped off the hearth and Genevieve knelt before the creature and whispered to her. The elf’s eyes enlarged and she brought her long fingers to her mouth in shock, but when Genevieve smiled so did Carsy and by the time she left through the fire again she was laughing.

“I’ve never heard a house elf laugh like that before.” Ron said to Harry, but Genevieve overheard it.

“That is because you never met Carsy before. Carsy and I have been through it all together. Hogwarts is lucky to have her. Wait, now that I think about it, technically, she’s your house elf Harry.”

Harry stared at her in unbelief. “My house elf?”

“You are the last Potter, and on your 18th birthday you inherit the house, which is where Carsy worked until your Father inherited her.”

“You talk about her like she’s a piece of furniture,” Hermione protested. “A person can’t just be ‘inherited’.”

“You are right of course,” Genevieve surprised Hermione with her answer. “House Elves do have a choice but never choose to make one. They are bound by their own traditions they could break away from at any time, but don’t.”

Genevieve just laughed. “House elves have a tendency to underestimate themselves. In fact, they are more powerful than wizards and are naturals in using Old Magic, when it is taught to them. But there are as many reasons as there are house elves for why they stay where they do.”

“How do you know all this,” Harry asked. Genevieve ignored the question by changing the subject.

“Carsy went to ask Dumbledore to join us at his convenience. Harry would you unlock the door, please.” Harry did as she asked but glanced at Ron and Hermione who had also noticed the dodge.

A few minutes later Dumbledore and Carsy arrived so anxious to see what Genevieve had thought of it took him a while to notice Harry, Ron and Hermione were there, though after he did, they had his full attention.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned.

“Genevieve was telling me about my parents.” Harry answered.

“I applaud your desire to get in touch with your roots, but now is not the time. If anyone from the ministry knew you were alone with Genevieve your testimony would not be admissible.”

“My testimony, about what?”

“All you need to do is tell the truth. We will discuss it later.” He resumed looking at Genevieve’s map. Carsy ushered Harry and his friends out the doors and stood outside to prevent their re-entry.

Harry had just pulled on his pajamas when the door creaked open slowly. Silhouetted in the door frame Snuffles stood rigid. Harry leaned near the dog’s face,

“What’s wrong?” Snuffles whimpered softly and scampered down the stairs to the now deserted common room and under the furthest desk from the dimming fire. Harry knelt by the table and saw only two eyes, human eyes, peering out from the darkness. He crawled underneath, between the chairs until he felt Sirius’ trembling hand. Harry waited in silence for Sirius to speak.

“I have bad and good news Harry.” He gulped loudly. “Fudge himself has decided to prosecute Genevieve. Seems he has taken this whole situation very personally, and he is already convincing Ministry officials of her guilt.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Harry. But there is some hope. Dumbledore has decided to argue Genevieve’s case, and she remembered where some documents are that your parents may have hidden. It’s going to take a while to get them, and they may not even be there so I have to be leaving with that house-elf Carsy tonight.”

“Be careful please.”

“I will, and when we win this trial and then mine, you’re coming home with me, alright.” Harry almost laughed aloud with excitement. “Do me one favor though, Harry.”

“Anything,” Harry grinned from ear to ear.

“Genevieve is taking the news about Fudge pretty hard. Keep her from losing hope.”

“How can I do that?” Harry asked.

“Get her involved. She’s really good at helping ghosts, encourage that.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask why there are so many around her all the time.”

“Genevieve can help some with their problems, others she helps to move on. But mostly she has a way of making them feel mortal again. Help her keep busy, it takes her mind of everything. It would mean a lot to me.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.” Harry whispered. Harry through his arms around his godfather to say goodbye and felt his skin grow furry. Snuffles slipped out from under the desk, nearly tipping over a chair. Harry caught it by the leg before it clattered to the floor and looked up just in time to see a large dog pushing open the portrait hole.