Dark Time

Chapter Two: Garments of Fear

He said the dead had souls, but when I asked him
How could that be--I thought the dead were souls,
He broke my trance. Don't that make you suspicious
That there's something the dead are keeing back?
Yes, there's something the dead are keeping back.

                            -- Robert Frost, "Two Witches"

"Next time, can you think of a way to get me a message that doesn't involve bruises?"

Draco jumped and turned at the sound of Harry's voice. "I couldn't exactly give you a verbal invitation, Potter." He looked nervously around the room before continuing. "What have you seen?"

"Students, teachers...just all kinds of people who don't belong here. And no one else can see them...What about you?"

Draco brought one hand to his mouth and began tugging at the skin on his knuckles with his teeth. "Same as you mostly, only...in the dorms...in the dungeons...There are people, parents, relatives...people whose names I know, people my father raised me to believe were heroes only..."

"Only what?"

"I know all these people are--"

"--dead. I was wondering how long it would take you two to figure it out."

The boys turned to what had previously been an empty corner of the room. A woman stood there, idly flipping through a small book. Her long brown hair was done up in a series of strange loops and her eyes hinted at an eastern heritage neither boy could identify.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. Draco backed away from the woman and sunk his teeth into the back of his hand.

"Irene Sia, professor of Animamancy."

"Anima-what?" Harry frowned in confusion.

"Animamancy," Draco repeated. "Magic of the soul. But there hasn't been an Animamancy class at Hogwarts for seventy years. Beauxbatons and some of the other schools still teach it, though."

Irene smiled. "Bright boy. And you'll be even brighter if you can guess a little further."

Draco's hands shook slightly and he clasped them behind his back. "You used to teach here...and you're dead."

Irene snapped her book shut with one hand. "Got it in one. Ten points to..." She looked Draco up and down. "Slytherin, unless I've lost my touch."

Draco nodded. "So why exactly are you here? You and everyone else?"

"You aren't ghosts," Harry said, picking up the thread of conversation. "If you were, everyone else could see you. Why are you here and...what are you?"

Irene wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. "So many questions...it's like teaching again. Makes me nostalgic." Her smile twisted wryly. "No, we aren't ghosts. I heard people like us once called 'the vagrant dead,' and that isn't far from the truth. We're spirits of the departed, invisible to all but a few people. Rather then spend our time in the Vaults, we've chosen to come back to the world of the living. Though we can't interact with anything and most aren't even aware of our existence, it's...comforting to be here and know what's going on."

"Can you...go on?" Harry asked hesitantly, remembering his conversation with Nearly-Headless Nick a few months earlier. "Or are you stuck here?"

Irene shook her head. "That is the one advantage we have over ghosts. We cannot be seen or heard, but we are free to leave when we choose. Once we decide to go on, however, there is no coming back. We are sent to the Vaults until...unless someone like you brings us out."

"But why can we see you?" Draco demanded. "You said you're visible to some. What happened to us? What changed?"

The former professor laughed gently. "For a bright boy, you seem incapable of grasping the obvious." Draco flushed in anger, but Irene continued. "You two entered the Vaults, did you not? You saw the dead?"

"Beyond the columns..." The words were a whisper from Draco's throat.

"What made you believe that once you saw them there, that ability would change once you returned here?" She paused, letting her words sink in. "You can see the vagrant dead. And nothing can change that."

Harry half-expected Draco to scream, but the other young man said only, "Yes...I understand." Draco raised his head, expression carefully ordered and calm. "Thank you."

Irene arched an eyebrow; she'd apparently been expecting something along similar lines. "You're welcome. If you don't mind my suggesting, I think it's well past time for you two to be in your dormitories. You'd better hurry back before you're missed."

Draco nodded and shook himself; Harry was reminded of the Whomping Willow, freeing itself from the last of a winter's snow. In the moonlight drifting through the window, Draco looked pale and terrible, with all the strange beauty of a well-crafted knife. Harry thought for a moment that if he touched Draco, he would draw back a hand that had been cut open by one of the boy's sharp edges.

Without another word, Draco brushed past him and left the room. Harry watched him go. When he looked back, Irene had vanished and he was alone.

***

Harry crept back into the Gryffindor common room, closing the door softly behind him. He wasn't surprised when he saw the hair-ribbon girl seated on the couch in front of the fire, watching her friends play Exploding Snap. Harry sat down next to her.

"Hi," he said. "My name's Harry."

The girl smiled. "My name's Prudence Bridgewater." She scowled. "Horrible name, isn't it?" Harry couldn't help but laugh. "My middle name is Elizabeth, though," the girl continued, "so my friends call me Liz."

"Nice to meet you, Liz."

"Do you have any questions?"

"Huh?" Harry's head jerked up.

"Do you have any questions?" Liz repeated. "I know I would if all of a sudden I could see dead people." She bit her lower lip. "You do know we're dead, right?"

Harry smiled reassuringly. "Yeah. I ran into an old Animamancy professor and she explained everything. Were you one of her students?"

"Miss Sia?" Liz shook her head. "No, they stopped teaching Animamancy way before I started school. She's been here for ages. I've only been here for...not quite twenty years, I think."

An idea formed in the back of Harry's brain and wouldn't let go. "Who...I mean, how did you..."
"How did I die?" Liz prompted. Her smile went slightly crooked. "I invited the girls over to spend the night one summer. My parents had made a few enemies...the kind that wear masks and hoods, you know? They showed up around...midnight, wasn't it?"

One of the girls playing Exploding Snap shook her head. "One, Liz. Remember we were doing those fake Divination readings and we were going on about the significance of the hour?"

Liz nodded in remembrance. "Yeah, you're right, Julie. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." The girl named Julie swore suddenly and shook a hand she'd scorched in the game.

Liz returned her attention to Harry. "Well, after the Death Eaters showed up...you can fill in the blanks from there."

Harry grimaced in sympathy. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What for?" Liz cocked her head to the side. "It was before you were even born." She sighed. "Never understood why people say sorry like that. Like they could have done something about it." Liz shrugged and pulled the ribbons out of here hair. "It's terrible, but it's over and nothing's changing it. Don't really expect anyone to go into the Vaults looking for me at this point." She noticed the look on Harry's face and blushed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the sentiment, it's just..."

"I get it," Harry said. He looked down at his watch and rolled his eyes. "And I'd better get to bed, or I'm going to be the one falling asleep in Potions tomorrow." He got up and headed for the boys' dormitory stairs.

"Night, Harry."

"Night, Liz."

***

The following morning at breakfast, Harry almost failed to recognize Draco. The Slytherin prefect seemed to have regained whatever color he previously possessed and the bruise-shadows under his eyes had faded to near invisibility. It was as though confirmation of the fact that those he saw were dead helped him to at last rest easy. When Harry sneaked a second glance, he noticed Draco was reading a rather dusty tome entitled Introduction to Animamancy and fending off questions from his housemates about the book's subject matter.

In Transfiguration, Harry noticed the girl Liz had called Julie sitting in the back corner. He did a double-take at her unexpected presence, but Julie only laughed silently and stuck her tongue out at him. There were, to Harry's surprise, no spirits present in History of Magic, which was something of a disappointment as they would have made the class more interesting. After lunch came Divination, and with it, another of the vagrant dead.

Professor Trelawney had passed out copies of a handbook with a purple cover and the title House of Cards: Interpreting Your Future Through Tarot. She explained that they would be reviewing only major and minor arcana today, saving actual readings for the next lesson. As Trelawney elaborated on the meanings of The Fool inverted, Harry noticed a woman seated in the professor's armchair. She resembled Sibyl in her features, though her hair was more orderly and she wore less jewelry. The woman sighed and shook her head, resting her chin in one hand. She noticed Harry watching her and smiled.

"She's a darling," the woman said, "but she has less Sight than she'd care to believe. Someone has to keep an eye on her."

Harry wanted to ask the woman her name, but was afraid to draw attention to himself. She recognized his confusion, however, and said, "I'm her great-great-grandmother Cassie." Cassandra Trelawney frowned suddenly in concentration. "You've been in this class for three years and you've never seen me before. When did you develop second sight, dear?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was checked by an elbow in the side from Ron. "Harry," the red-head hissed, "stop staring into space. I know the bat's boring, but we'll have to do part of the readings without the bloody book. If we don't help each other remember this stuff, we'll both fail."

Harry forced himself to focus on the tarot handbook, keeping his eyes from wandering to the form of the long-dead Seer lounging in the armchair.

***

After dinner, Harry was on his way to the common room when Professor McGonagall stopped him in the hall. "The Headmaster would like to have a word with you," she said. After leading him to the gargoyle and speaking the password ("Jelly Slugs."), she informed him, "You're on your own from here, Potter." She patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and Harry ascended the spiral stone stairs.

Afterwards, he was never sure if he had been surprised to see Draco Malfoy waiting for him, standing in front of the Headmaster's desk. He did, however, remember something Narcissa Malfoy had said two weeks ago. "Of course. Second level Necromancy is hardly likely to go undetected in Hogwarts." He moved to stand beside Malfoy, leaving as much space between them as he could without being openly insulting.

Dumbledore smiled benevolently. "I'd like to touch on matters involving you individually before we get to the heart of why I asked you here. Harry, you'll be pleased to hear that your dog who went missing returned home recently."

Harry tried to look both shocked and thrilled, without overdoing either. "That's...that's great news, Professor."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Potter, can't even keep track of your animal. I'm sure you've been up nights weeping."

Dumbledore kept his eyes on Harry, though it was plain whom he was addressing. "It is wise to never challenge the size of another's loss. You may find yourself in deeper water than you imagined." He turned to Draco, eyes twinkling. "And I wish to offer my congratulations, Mr. Malfoy, on your mother's recovered health. I must admit that I heard some disturbing rumors as to the severity of her condition."

Draco allowed himself to smile slightly in return. "She was very ill this summer, Professor, but she is much better now. I wish I knew how those rumors had gotten started. Mother found it terribly amusing to learn that some of her acquaintances believed her to be dead; imagine their surprise when she arrived for tea."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Amusing indeed. Now, gentlemen." The Headmaster's tone turned grave. "There is something I need to discuss with you. Two weeks ago, someone performed a ritual in an empty classroom on the fifth floor. This ritual involved dark and dangerous magicks; at present, the staff is working to strengthen the wards so that a similar incident doesn't take place again."

"If you don't mind my asking, Professor," Draco began, "what kind of ritual are you talking about?"

Dumbledore straightened his glasses. "As near as we have been able to determine from the residues and magical signatures, it was a ritual of Opening, designed to allow passage into the Vaults."

Draco looked astounded; Harry settled for looking suitably bewildered. "But that's...second level necromancy, sir," Draco replied slowly, as though unable to wrap his mind around the concept. "I wouldn't think that would be possible within ten miles of Hogwarts."

"Nor would I, young man, had I not seen the evidence with my own eyes." Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It has taken us some time to sort out the evidence, but I know now that you were both in the room that night."

Harry froze. He had known this was coming, but the sound of the words was still like a knife in his flesh. He opened his mouth and tried to explain. "Professor, we--please don't--"

"Oh, quit sniveling, Potter." Draco's acidic tone silenced Harry's attempts at speaking. "He knows we were there. It's pointless to try and convince him otherwise. He might as well know the truth." Draco lowered his eyes, but not his head. "Potter and I were fighting a duel. We'd had words after Potions that day and I challenged him. We agreed on that empty classroom."

"What time were the two of you there?" the Headmaster asked.

"Around eleven," Harry said. "Hermione and Ron know when I left." He risked a quick glance at Malfoy. "I expect Malfoy told someone, too. You could ask them, if you like."

"No, that is what I thought you might tell me." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "You two are free to go." As the boys reached the door, he called after them, "One thing, before you leave. Who won the duel?"

Harry grinned ruefully. "We never had a chance to finish. We heard Mrs. Norris in the hall and decided discretion was the better part of valor."

Dumbledore laughed and waved them out. At the bottom of the stairs, Draco grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him into the nearest boys' lavatory. A second year was washing his hands and jumped when the two older boys burst in. Draco drew his wand and aimed it between the younger boy's eyes. "Get out of here now, or you'll find out how true the rumors about me are."

The second year opened his mouth and closed it silently, then fled. Harry tried and failed not to look amused. "You have rumors about you?"

Draco put his wand away. "Every self-respecting Slytherin prefect should. It's tradition." He smoothed an edge of his robe and muttered a curse. "Well, as if we weren't in it before, there's no getting away now."

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded.

"I would hope that even your blinding stupidity hasn't hidden from you that Dumbledore knows full well what we did."

"If he knows, then why ask us anything?" Harry countered. "Why not just expel us or pack us off to Azkaban?"

"Because he needs more evidence than what he has," Draco replied. "He knows, based on our magical signatures, that we were there that night. That, however, is all he has. Necromancy plays all kinds of havoc on other spells; it just settles like a fog over an area and obscures everything."

Harry frowned. "So what exactly did he want from us?"

Draco snorted. "More like what he didn't want. They could probably pick the residue in that room apart until we're both in our graves and not come up with more than what they've got now. But if you'd said anything that placed us as involved in the ritual, we'd be in Azkaban before you could spit." He leaned back and braced his arms on one of the sinks. "Necromancy is one of the most despised Arts, but the hardest to prosecute. Nothing makes the Ministry's day like a good confession."

Harry chewed his lower lip in thought. "Then why ask us anything at all?"

Draco let his chin fall to his chest in feigned exhaustion. "Necromancy in Hogwarts doesn't go unnoticed. The governors and the Ministry will want to see a full report. If Dumbledore doesn't at least question the only two he's certain were in that room, he'll look like an accomplice."

Both young men were silent for a while, until Harry asked, "What now?"

"We keep lying," Draco replied, the words a mere exhalation.

Harry stared fixedly at him, expectant, so he continued. "As long as we don't admit anything, we're safe. If we tell anyone what we did, we'll be in prison for the rest of our lives. Dumbledore may be able to look the other way, but any other wizard would have reported us."

"But what if they--"

"I don't know how your precious Muggles feel," Draco snapped, "but wizards take death seriously, if only because we've found ways around it. A lot of people wish those ways had stayed unknown, so Necromancers are punished with few questions asked. It is highly illegal magic, though I did hear once there's a secret department in the Ministry devoted to studying it."

Harry remembered an archway with thin black veil and shuddered at the memory. "So if we stay quiet about it, everything will be okay? Even with...the people we brought back...with them here, that's not enough?"

Draco nodded. "The only people who saw my mother die aren't the most trustworthy of witnesses. I can guess the same applies to you. In the cases they've tried to prosecute with the returned and Veritaserum, the potion proved fairly unreliable; I suspect it's the Necromancy taint." Draco stretched idly and rolled his shoulders. "As long as we tell no one and admit nothing, we're safe."

Harry sensed his dismissal and headed for the door. Draco's voice caught him with his hand reaching for the knob.

"Potter, if you haven't already, you probably shouldn't contact...that friend of yours. Not now, with the inquisition just over. Wait to hear from him."

Harry nodded once and left.

***

The next evening, Harry and Ron were quizzing each other on tarot in the library while Hermione researched a paper for Ancient Runes. Harry looked up to ask about the difference between Knights and Pages in the minor arcana, when he saw Cassandra Trelawney standing next to the Herbology shelves. She motioned him to follow her, then slipped between the reading tables and drifted into the Divination section.

"I'll be right back," Harry murmured, standing up. "There's another book I want to check on."

He followed the shade between the bookshelves and continued until he was out of sight of Ron and Hermione. "What are you doing here?" he whispered.

"I think you could use someone to talk to," the Seer replied, toying with one of her necklaces. "As I said in the classroom, you must have only recently developed second sight, but that usually manifests around the age of five or six. I simply wonder what happened to you."

"I went into the Vaults," Harry began, but was cut off from further reply.

Cassandra drew her breath sharply across her teeth like a hiss of pain. "Of course," she murmured. "Of course..." Her head turned suddenly as she was distracted by another thought, making her appear like a species of nervous bird. "Who was with you?"

"I was." Draco walked around the end of the row, cradling a large black book.

"Oh my..." Cassandra reached out a hand, her fingertips stopping just short of Draco's face. "You were the Primary, yes?" Before Draco could answer, she continued, "You were, I can see it on you." She dragged her fingers through the air around his head. "There will be prices you never dreamed."

Draco stepped back. "I'm prepared. Now do you have anything useful to add, or shall I just get back to my research?" He gestured to the book he held. Harry peered over at the title, Encyclopedia Phantasmagoria Volume XIX: The Vagrant Dead by S. Kingsman.

Cassandra smiled, but it was a sad expression. "Of course you are, dear. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"No bother at all, Madame Seer." Draco bowed slightly. "A pleasure." He favored Harry with barely a nod and vanished around the shelves.

"It's time I was going as well," Cassandra said. "And try not to confuse Temperance and Justice."

"Who were you talking to, Harry?"

Harry spun around to see Hermione holding an armful of books. He coughed and hoped she didn't notice his flush. "Nothing. I wasn't talking to anyone. Just found the book I was looking for." He noticed a book at his feet and quickly snatched it up. He smiled. "See? Right here."

Hermione looked at the book and frowned. "Introduction to Animamancy? I thought you came over here for something about tarot."

Harry's eyes widened as he realized what he was holding. "Um...No, actually. This is just...a little light reading."

Hermione studied him quietly, as though she wanted to ask something but decided against it. "Come on, then," she said. "We'd better get back to the common room. Almost time for curfew."

"Right behind you," Harry replied.

***

As soon as his roommates fell asleep, Harry slid his wand from beneath his pillow and murmured, "Lumos," followed by a hasty "Impervius lucis!" directed at the bed curtains. He then pulled Introduction to Animamancy out from under the covers and began reading.

At first glance, Animamancy resembled a wizarding form of yoga or meditation; the first chapters described various concentration rituals that were supposed to strengthen the practitioner's power and increase their focus. Further on, Harry noticed references to wizards called Animae, a title seemingly given only to those particularly adept in the art. In the last chapter, Animae were described as users of exclusively wandless magic; the book hinted that everything from charms to jinxes could be cast without the use of wand or even spoken word.

Harry squinted at what appeared to be notes in the margins.

Try this first, read one which was placed by a paragraph that mentioned levitation charms were the easiest to accomplish.

Irene says this is bollocks, read another. An arrow pointed from the comment to an excerpt from the memoirs of a supposed Anima, detailing his mastery of all four branches of Elemental magic.

It was a note at the bottom of the page, however, that really drew Harry's attention.

No mention of Dark Arts, Unforgivables. Restricted Sec??

Harry ran his fingertips over the words. He remained awake for some time, thinking in silence. When the Lumos spell began to wane, the darkness startled him out of his thoughts. After whispering "Nox," Harry returned his wand to his night stand and slipped the book under his bed. It was another hour before fell asleep, kept awake by ideas that refused to be ignored.