Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

Chapter 45: Sacrifice for Knowledge

---

The next day, Dumbledore solemnly announces at breakfast, "Students, I regret to inform you that the Hogwarts caretaker, Argus Filch, passed away last night. Also, in completely unrelated news, the area around the first floor girls' lavatory is considered off-limits to all students at this time."

Although the students don't seem to be especially saddened by Filch's death, speculation runs rampant as to what happened. "That's Moaning Myrtle's restroom, isn't it?" Hermione says thoughtfully.

"That's always been out of order," says a prefect girl.

"Maybe he was trying to finally get it working again, and something went horribly wrong," Neville suggests.

"Either way, good riddance, I say," Draco says. "It's not like Hogwarts really needs him around, anyway, what with the house-elves to take care of everything. I'll bet Dumbledore just gave the useless Squib a job out of pity."

"We shouldn't rely so much on the house-elves," Hermione says, then adds quietly, "Although I agree that I don't think one Squib was actually doing all that much, comparatively."

"I think his only purpose was to get students in trouble for stupid things," Dean says, making a face.

"You're quieter than usual this morning, Harry," Theodore observes.

"I am?" I say. "Oh, I was just thinking. Don't mind me."

"You have yellow grackles around you," Luna points out. "Oh, and a wrackspurt flitting about your head."

Which ones were the yellow grackles again? Black for murder, red for intentional killing in battle, yellow for accidental, I think it was. So, I didn't mean to cause Filch's death... but I still did.

"Excuse me," I say. "I don't really feel like eating at the moment."

That's not really accurate. I'm half starved. I didn't eat dinner yesterday at all, despite my excuse about going to get a snack. Still, I never liked Filch, but he didn't deserve to die like that. The others won't ask Luna what the grackles mean, though, at least. They never do.

I slip off into a nook where nobody is watching and pull on my invisibility cloak. With that, I make my way to Myrtle's restroom. It looks like they've placed the same sort of spell over the area that they did before. It'll keep out most of the students, sure, but won't interfere with anyone who already knows about the secret that it's protecting. I enter the restroom and put away my cloak.

"Hello, Myrtle," I say. "Are you here?"

"Oh!" Myrtle says, popping out of her toilet and hovering in the air before me. "You came back, Harry! You actually kept your promise!"

I grin broadly. "I don't make a habit of breaking promises," I say. "How are you doing, Myrtle?"

"Still dead!" Myrtle says brightly.

"By the way," I say. "They've magically sealed off this area to keep any of the students from wandering by. So nobody else is likely to be coming in and visiting you. Or bothering you. Unless they're here to investigate what happened to Filch and Lockhart. I don't know how long they'll keep the protections up, but likely until they figure out how to get rid of whatever put that message on the wall. Which could be all year."

"Oh," Myrtle says. "Well, it's not like anyone but you ever wanted to visit me anyway."

"Still, I won't always be able to sneak down here," I say. "Since the area is sealed off, it'll get suspicious if I'm hanging around here a lot. Why don't you come out and hang out with me and my friends sometimes? Anytime you like. I'll make sure that nobody makes fun of you."

"Hmm," Myrtle says thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose that wouldn't be so bad."

"Why don't you come join us in the Great Hall?" I suggest. "There's still some time left in breakfast. My friends are probably still there."

"I don't know..." Myrtle says dubiously.

"Come on, it'll be fun," I say. "And if anyone says anything bad about you, first I'll warn them, and if they do it again, I'll jinx them."

"You'd be my very own heroic protector?" Myrtle says, giggling. "You're a Gryffindor, aren't you."

"Heh," I say. "Yeah. Although I usually eat at the Slytherin table because a couple of the boys in my dorm are dicks. Shall we?"

"Well, alright, I suppose," Myrtle says.

I return to the Great Hall, followed by the ghost girl floating along behind me, and take a seat at the Slytherin table. "Hey, guys," I say. "Let me introduce you to Myrtle. Be nice to her."

"Hello, Myrtle," Neville says.

"Myrtle, these are my friends, Neville, Luna, Dean, Hermione, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore, and Blaise," I say, pointing to each one in turn in the order they're sitting.

"You're not going to make fun of me, are you?" Myrtle asks.

"Why would we do that?" Theodore asks.

Myrtle cocks her head and peers at the odd group. "Why are four Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw eating at the Slytherin table?"

"There are fewer jerks here," Hermione says.

"And fewer wrackspurts," Luna adds.

"And they have the best desserts," Dean puts in.

I can stomach eating up all the breakfast I can stuff into my face now, in between chatting casually with Myrtle. When we're done eating, we head to our usual room to hang out for a bit, again followed by Myrtle, who seems to have relaxed considerably upon realizing that nobody is treating her badly.

"So, show us these books you found, Stormseeker," Hermione asks.

"What books?" Draco wonders.

"I found some books in a secret library hidden in the school," I say, pulling them out from my bag of holding and laying them on the table.

"Wow," Blaise says. "These must be really old."

"I don't suppose anyone happens to speak Latin here?" I say, smirking.

"A little," Theodore says, and a couple of the others nod in agreement. None of us really speaks much Latin.

"What about you, Myrtle?" I ask.

"I'm afraid not," Myrtle replies. "I always wanted to learn, though."

"Where did you find this, Stormseeker?" Draco asks. "I didn't know there were any secret libraries in the school."

"Well, yeah," I say. "If you did, they wouldn't be a secret." I grin at him.

"So what does all this mean?" Dean wonders. "What do the titles mean, for starters?"

"Let's see," Theodore says. "I'm guessing that Grimorium Antiqui means 'Old Book' or something like that."

"Ars Magicarum?" Crabbe says. "Does that mean 'Magic Butt'?"

Several of us giggle. Theodore says, "It's probably something like 'The Art of Magic'. As for Clavicula Potentiae... um..."

"The Potential Collarbone?" suggests Dean.

"Somehow I doubt that," I say, chuckling.

We're not getting very far on this today, so we pull out some of our homework to get some of that done.

After a bit, I decide to go over to Theodore to have a little chat with him. "Let me ask you something, Theodore. Why did you decide to join up with my group in the first place, anyway?" I ask him quietly. "Last year you struck me as a bit of a loner."

Theodore looks up at me thoughtfully. "Well, I was kind of curious, for starters," he replies. "There was always something a little strange about you that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Now I know why, at least. I've spent a fair bit of time thinking about what I saw on the Pensieve. And I'm glad I did."

"Oh?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Theodore says. "You're not like You-Know-Who, or even Draco. You have a purpose, and underlying principles that you won't waver from no matter what. I think getting behind you was the best decision I ever made, and I don't regret it for a moment. Whatever happens now, I'm in this for the long run."

I smile at him. "I'm glad to hear that, Theodore."

He chuckles softly. "Which is kind of funny, considering that I was a loner. I'd told myself that I wouldn't join anyone else's group. But at the time, all I saw were gangs of bullies of various ages, making life miserable for one another. And their leaders all treated their followers like mere minions to be ordered about as they please. Even Dumbledore, so far as I saw."

"Yeah, I've seen that," I say, nodding in agreement, and thinking on how Draco usually treated Crabbe and Goyle until I came along.

Theodore goes on, "But... you aren't like that at all. You treat everyone with respect and encourage everyone else to do the same. You're less of a leader, and more of a heart, that draws others in and binds them together as friends, rather than minions. How else could you manage to get Slytherins to accept not-so-pureblooded witches and wizards without question? I don't get it."

"Heh," I say, grinning crookedly at him. "Nah, I think I'd just consider myself fortunate to have wound up with friends like you."

Later, I head over to the Owlery off with an order for a couple or books on Latin from Flourish and Blotts catalogue. Then, I head up to my dorm and into the privacy of my bed, and pull out Tom Riddle's diary.

"I've made a lot of good friends this year at school," I write. "Unexpected, really. Especially considering how much certain segments of the school population still hate me. But I'm glad for it, nonetheless."

"Who have you added to your circle?" Tom asks.

"Well, there's Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Dean Thomas, and um... Crabbe and Goyle," I write. "I still don't know their first names, but at least I can remember which is which now."

"I see. Tell me about Dean Thomas," Tom reads.

"He's a Gryffindor in my year," I reply. "Either a Mudblood or a half-blood."

"You're not sure which?" Tom wonders.

"His father ran off and abandoned him and his mother at a young age, so he has no idea himself," I write.

"Ah. Understandable," Tom replies.

---

We've settled into a nice routine between Defense Against the Dark Arts and Dueling Club. We're currently covering counter-curses in Defense, and the curses themselves in Dueling Club. Lockhart has, thankfully, realized that it makes him look better to let someone else demonstrate the spells. So, he's been having me demonstrate the curse, and Hermione to cast the counter-curse. I'm shocked to find that we're actually managing to learn something even with Lockhart teaching!

"You will regret the way you dared to stand against Dragon Army!" Ron declares in one Saturday's Dueling Club.

"Ronald, you are not nearly awesome enough to be leading anything called Dragon Army," Hermione tells him.

"I should get Dragon Army, if anyone did," Draco says. "Which I'm not, since I'm with Storm Army."

The next term promises to be very interesting, as the Dueling Club tournament begins. And I fully intend to win this one. There's no way I'm going to let anyone beat me, even the ones in my own army, if I can possibly help it. I need to keep up my reputation, after all. I'm still afraid of Lucius figuring out that I'm not nearly as experienced and powerful as he seems to think I am.

So I must push myself to be the best I can be in some areas, even if it means that I have to neglect other areas. It's a wonder I get any sleep at all, between studying Latin, learning curses, and doing a bit of fruitless Patronus practice.

"Potter!" Ron exclaims. "Get up here and show me what you're made of!"

"Weasley, that's not the proper method of issuing a challenge to an opposing party," Snape says dryly. "Even if it does get the point across pretty clearly."

Draco snorts softly and says quietly, "What else would you expect from that sort of wizard? He wouldn't know etiquette and refinement if it hexed him in the face."

"If you're not going to challenge me properly, I'm not going to follow the rules properly," I retort. "Do you really want to play like that?"

"Bring it on," Ron says, clenching his fists. "I'll take whatever you can dish out!"

"Is that so?" I say. I stalk right up to him and punch him in the face.

"This is the Dueling Club, not the Brawling Club," Snape comments dryly, rolling his eyes. "Five points from Gryffindor for each of you."

"Can I lose some more points if I kick his ass?" I ask.

"Did you just try to get into Gryffindor so you could lose us points from the inside, you traitor?" Ron asks, rubbing his jaw.

"No," I say. "How petty do you think I am? I've got more important things to worry about. Like, at the moment, kicking your ass, little Weasel. Mimble Wimble!"

Ron counters that, and starts throwing spells of his own at me. Clearly, he has actually been paying attention in our Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I dodge or counter everything he throws at me, and rapidly shoot off spells of my own at him.

I'm not about to stick to the spells approved for use in the Dueling Club, either, and I warned him as much. That's as far as I care to take honor at the moment. Time to get some payback for getting me killed during that Quidditch game.

"Accio banner!" I cast, and the Dragon Army banner rips itself off from its post overhead and tries to come toward me. I'm still not very good at this charm, however, and it landed on Ron's shoulder. Eh, good enough, I suppose. "Incendio!" I cast, setting the banner on fire.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Ron casts quickly, levitating the burning flag away from him.

"Diffindo," I cast on his robes, neatly slicing through them and dropping the lower half of them to the floor. He's apparently wearing Muggle smiley face boxers today.

"Hey!" Ron cries, grabbing at his robes to try to preserve his dignity.

"Expelliarmus," I cast while he's distracted, sending his wand flying. "Stupefy." Ron collapses to the floor, stunned.

"Five points from Gryffindor for dirty tactics and use of unauthorized spells," Snape says. "Been studying ahead, have you?" He goes over to Ron's prone form and casts, "Rennervate. Reparo." Ron regains consciousness and his robes mend themselves.

"That was... totally..." Ron mutters. "Uncalled for!"

"I did warn you," I say. "Next time, challenge me properly, or I'm going to do whatever I feel like to you that won't get me detention, expelled, or sent to Azkaban. You're my rival, Ron Weasley. You don't want to actually be my enemy. That's another warning, Ron. I suggest you heed it."

"Five points from Gryffindor for threatening a fellow student," Snape says.

"What!?" Ron cries, spinning around to look at him. "Snape! You can't just keep taking points away from our house just because Potter keeps being an arse! This isn't fair!"

"Five points from Gryffindor for whining and yelling at a teacher," Snape says.

"You should learn that there is no justice in life unless you make it yourself," I say. "Good people suffer and die, and bad people go free and live happy lives. If you don't like that, then do something about it. Just remember that things are rarely as black and white as they might at first appear to be."

I stride away to rejoin the others in Storm Army, who have been watching this spectacle with rapt interest.

"Good job, Stormseeker," Draco says. "You really showed him."

"All I've done is give him a reason to try to better himself," I say. "Keep an eye on him."

Is this the real reason for the Hogwarts house system? Some people are more driven to improve when they have rivals and competition. Are those the ones who wind up in Gryffindor and Slytherin? And Ravenclaw for the ones who are just naturally studious, and Hufflepuff for those who work better with encouragement and cooperation than outright rivalry. An interesting thought. Whether that was intended or not, that's what it seems to have become.

---

As winter holidays approach, we're making good progress on our extracurricular Latin studies. Surprisingly, Myrtle is a lot of help with this. One Saturday afternoon, I'm studying with Hermione, Myrtle, and Neville in the sleeping dragon room.

"I didn't think that ghosts were really capable of learning anything or changing much after they've died," I say.

"Well, you obviously don't know as much about ghosts as you think you do, then," Myrtle says, looking a little offended.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," I say. "It's just that all the ghosts I've seen don't seem to do much besides float around and just kind of haunt things. And like you did before I dragged you out of the restroom, moping around thinking about morbid things all the time."

"I was a Ravenclaw when I was alive," Myrtle says. "Well, I suppose since I died while I was still at school, I guess I'll always be a Ravenclaw, now. I just kind of forgot about that for a while."

"How did you become a ghost in the first place?" Neville asks.

"Ooh, well, I was sitting crying in the girls' restroom after Olive Hornby made fun of me," Myrtle says. "And then there were some sounds outside my stall, and I opened up the door and looked out at these two big yellow eyes. And that was it, I just found myself floating away. But I wasn't about to go. I wanted to make Olive Hornby pay for mocking me like she did. So I haunted her for the rest of her days."

"A teenage girl who hadn't even finished school was able to defy death?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it's not all it's cracked up to be," Myrtle says. "After Olive Hornby got killed by some Death Eaters, I didn't have anything else to do, so I went back to the place where I died and haunted the restroom. I suppose I could have found a way to move on by that point, but why? It's not like I really wanted to die in the first place. So I spent a lot of time thinking about death, but I was... you know... kind of afraid to actually face it."

"Understandable," I say. "I don't care to actually die myself."

"If you're aiming for immortality, I hope you find a better means of it than becoming a ghost," Myrtle says. "I can't even use my magic anymore."

"Heh," I say, grinning a little. "Funny story, that."

"Hmm?" Myrtle says.

"It's a secret," I say. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Certainly," Myrtle says. "You're way too nice to me. I wouldn't blab your secrets to anybody."

"Heh, alright," I say. "You see, I already am immortal, in a way. I wasn't even trying for it or anything. I just seem to have an inborn ability that, whenever I would die, I wake up the previous morning as if nothing happened. Although sometimes I go back all the way to the first day I died, and I'm not entirely sure what causes that yet."

"Wow," Myrtle says. "That would be great, wouldn't it?"

"Although, I'm not sure whether it's the fact that knowing I have it makes me reckless at times, or there's some side effect to it that makes me a doom magnet or something," I say. "I die more frequently and in more ridiculous manners than you'd expect by any level of sanity."

"How was the last time you died?" Hermione asks.

"Hmm, let's see," I say. "I think it was at the first Quidditch game of the season. The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"What happened?" Neville says. "You didn't tell us about that one."

"Ron set my robes on fire," I say. "I fell out of the stands trying to get my burning robes off, and saw Lockhart coming. I ran across the Quidditch pitch, naked. And then got randomly hit by a Bludger."

Myrtle stares at me incredulously. "Alright, that definitely tops mine." Neville and Hermione don't seem to be sure whether they should laugh or sympathize.

"Seriously, how can something like that happen?" I say. "Nobody has luck that bad. I start to think that the universe is just out to get me or something. Some all-powerful being hates me and likes to see me tormented. I don't know."

"I think you're just getting jaded and cynical already," Neville says.

"I just... don't like to bring up my power much," I say. "For one thing, I try to keep it a secret or somebody might find a way to abuse it, to my detriment. And then there's the thing that I feel like I'm bragging or something. Like I'm shoving everyone's noses in the fact that I can't die."

"Oh, Harry, we don't think that," Hermione says.

"And believe me, if I knew a way to share this power, I would," I say. "You all are great friends, and I don't ever want to lose you."

"Even me?" Myrtle asks.

"Even you, Myrtle," I say, grinning.

"Hmm," Hermione says thoughtfully.

"Oh, no," I say. "I know that look. You're trying to think of a way how it might be possible, aren't you."

"I'm sure there must be a way," Hermione says. "You just haven't found it yet. Have you really experimented much with your power yet?"

"No, and I haven't really cared to," I say. "It's keeping me alive. I'm afraid I might make one mistake, and then just not come back, ever. I'm sure I'll run into new situations that enlighten me further about it, but I'm not going to intentionally seek them out."

"I suppose that's a reasonable attitude to take," Hermione says.

"Anyway, I think we have enough on our plate as it is," I say. "How are we doing on the translation side?"

"Pretty good, all things considered," Hermione says. "But I've run across several mentions of a book we don't have. Codex Veritatum. More than one of these books mentions it in passing, implying that the reader should look there for details. We're still missing a lot. Do you suppose you could sneak in and check if your secret library has the Codex Veritatum in it?"

"I suppose I could," I say reluctantly. "If not, I suppose I could always bring out some more books."

"Could you?" Hermione says excitedly. "This has been an amazing project. If these books are accurate, we've lost so much magical knowledge in the last millennium. It would be wonderful to reclaim even a fraction of that."

"Alright," I say, sighing. "I'll see what I can do."

After dinner, I sneak down to the Forbidden Lavatory in my invisibility cloak and pull out Tom Riddle's diary. I hate to do this again, knowing that someone could run into the basilisk because of it, but Hermione was so bright and enthusiastic about it. I hate to disappoint her, even though if she knew the risks I'm taking here, she might never approve of it.

"Tom," I write. "I'm at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Can you get me inside?"

"Are you prepared to accept the risks and face the consequences?" Tom replies.

I take a deep breath and steel myself. "Yes," I write.

"Very well," Tom reads. "Prepare yourself. I am assuming control now."

I really hate this part. For a moment I feel like something is invading my body, worming its way inside, and then, nothing.

---

The next thing I know, I'm in the Chamber of Secrets again. I head straight for Slytherin's library to look around.

I'm a little more liberal at poking at things this time. There's a number of books in Latin that I'm starting to be able to puzzle out their titles at least. I pull out a few that look interesting and put them into my bag. And, aha, there it is. The library does, indeed, have a copy of the Codex Veritatum after all. I take that as well.

This time, I'm bringing out seven books, and I carefully checked all of them beforehand to make sure that there weren't any unfortunate spells that would cause trouble for my friends just from opening them up and looking inside.

A quick glance at my watch reveals that it's already past curfew. I must have lost track of time looking through all of these fascinating books. I slip on my invisibility cloak again and head back out of the Chamber of Secrets, upstairs and out of the restroom, and from there I head straight back to my dormitory to go to sleep.

---

"Did you find it?" Hermione asks me in a hushed voice despite being under a privacy spell at breakfast the next morning.

I nod. "Yeah, and I brought some more books along with it, too. I'm not sure what the subject matter is, but they looked interesting enough."

"Are you sure they're safe?" Neville says. "I've heard about cursed books that could make you keep reading forever, or speak in limericks for the rest of your life."

"Well, I opened them up and looked at them first, and nothing happened, so I assume so," I say.

"Stormseeker, that's very reckless," Hermione says. "Maybe you're right about what you were saying yesterday."

"Heh, maybe," I say.

Dumbledore stands up at the front of the Great Hall and begins to speak. "Pardon me, students. Now that we're done eating, I have something I must tell you. It is always with a heavy heart that I must acknowledge the death of a student, and so I regret to inform you that..."

I stop listening. My brain seizes up. My heart races. I start breathing heavily. Someone is dead, and it's my fault. Some innocent student, dead because of my greed...

"... and so, to that end, we will be holding a service to the late Jennifer Stillman on Thursday evening."

A first year. A first year Mudblood. An eleven year old girl. How can I justify this?

"Stormseeker," Luna's voice says, cutting into my thoughts.

"Luna," I whisper in a ragged voice.

"They're yellow grackles," Luna says firmly.

"I know," I say. "But they're grackles nonetheless."

"What sort of nonsense are you two going on about?" Draco says. "Anyway, I say it's good riddance. One less--"

"Draco," I snap. "If you value our friendship, you will not finish that sentence."

Draco quickly closes his mouth, looking at me with a touch of alarm and fear. "Sorry," he mutters.

I grab Draco by the sleeve and drag him off to the nearest empty classroom, and push him inside, a little more roughly than I'd intended. As I go to close the door, Luna steps placidly into the room. It doesn't look like any of the others followed us. "Muffliato. Colloportus. Locus Timoris," I mutter.

I turn around to see Draco on his knees. "Forgive me, Stormseeker," Draco murmurs. "I spoke out of line. It won't happen again."

I growl softly. "Get up," I bark. "I'm not the bloody Dark Lord."

Draco stands up, still looking at me in fear. My tone apparently didn't help that much. I rub my temples and take a deep breath. I must control myself. Let my anger rage in the storm in my mind, but don't take it out on my friends. Draco watches me quietly as I calm myself.

"Relax, Draco," I say, more gently. "I just wanted to talk, alright? And... Draco, Luna... please don't tell the others what I'm about to tell you."

Luna gives a small nod, and Draco says, "Wait, does this have something to do with that Mudblood girl that died?"

"I killed her," I say in barely more than a whisper.

"It wasn't like you did it intentionally, Stormseeker," Luna says.

"Wait, what?" Draco says. "Did I miss something here? What happened?"

"Remember what I told you guys about finding a secret library in the school?" I say. "I did. I just didn't mention where it was or who it belonged to."

"Who?" Draco wonders, raising an eyebrow.

"It's Salazar Slytherin's private library, inside the Chamber of Secrets," I say.

"Merlin's balls," Draco utters. "You found that?"

I nod. "And now two people are dead because of it."

"You sacrificed a Squib and a Mudblood to gain access to Salazar Slytherin's private library?"

"No! I mean... yes... I mean... kind of... I mean... Fuck." I sigh deeply.

Luna puts her hand on my shoulder comfortingly, but says nothing.

"So what exactly happened?" Draco asks. "How did they die?"

"The Chamber of Secrets is guarded by a basilisk," I explain. "Which apparently got out while I was poking around down there, and killed Mr. Filch, and now Jennifer Stillman."

"You couldn't have known that would happen, Stormseeker," Luna says.

"I knew it was a possibility," I say. "It's still my fault."

"I still don't see what the problem is," Draco says.

"The problem is that I didn't intend to kill them," I say. "I mean, if I had, I'd have told the basilisk to start with Lockhart..." I smirk. "I would have been fine with killing Filch if I had known and intended him to die. Jennifer... was an innocent, however. I should have known better. I shouldn't have gone down the second time, after Filch died the first time. I should have taken that as a warning."

"You can't go back and save her?" Luna says.

I shake my head. "She died last night, before I went to bed. I just didn't realize it. If I'd realized it..."

"Would you have tried to do something about it then, if you had known?" Luna asks.

I sigh and sink down in a chair, and put my face in my hands. "No," I say. "Merlin forgive me, but I would not. I've caused too much trouble trying to go back to change things intentionally. I've made things worse one too many times. I tried to save Jennifer before... same thing, last lifetime... I wound up losing you instead, Luna. And then when I went back to try to save you, half the teachers in Hogwarts died!"

"So, if you would have let her die regardless, what difference does it make if you knew about it beforehand or not?" Draco says.

"What's done is done," I say. "I must accept the consequences of my actions. I have innocent blood on my hands now, all for the sake of greed, ambition, and lust for power." I snort softly. "I should have been in Slytherin."

Draco asks, "What did you bring back?"

"I brought out seven books from Slytherin's library," I say. "I just hope nobody else makes the connection between the deaths and me going to retrieve them." I pull out one of them to show him, the one Hermione was looking for, the Codex Veritatum.

"Is that what I think it is?" Draco says, eyes widening. "The Codex Veritatum! Nobody has seen that book in centuries. It's thought to be nothing more than a myth today, or some lost piece of lore that will never be found again, and you found it?"

"You've heard of it before?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course I've heard of the Book of Truths," Draco says, looking upon the object in my hands with awe. "This thing is legendary, at least in dark families. May I take a look?"

"Sure, alright," I say, handing it to him.

Draco takes it and opens it up, and carefully flips through it. "This is it," he breathes. "This is the real thing. I can't believe you found this!" He passes it back to me. "Take care with it. This book is priceless."

"Perhaps the question should be," Luna murmurs distantly. "Would you have sought out this book, if you had known exactly what the price would be beforehand?"

"No!" I reply quickly. "No one's life is worth that."

"Sacrifice one Mudblood to gain access to books like that?" Draco says. "I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"Are you absolutely certain of that, Stormseeker?" Luna asks. "Is that what you really believe, and not just your knee-jerk response?"

I think on it carefully for several minutes before nodding again. "Yes," I say. "I would find another way. I won't sacrifice anyone else just to gain power for myself, not even someone that I barely know."

Luna gives a small nod, and says, "Then that is why you are in Gryffindor, Stormseeker."