Harry Potter and the Touch of Innocence

Harry Potter and the Touch of Innocence
Chapter 2 - Dungeon Dangers

Hermione rummaged through a rack of gaudy-coloured dresses. 'So what do you think?' she asked vaguely, holding one out.

Arandelle took one look at it, and turned away. 'Not a chance in hell.'

'What's wrong with it?' she demanded, observing the dress she had observed.

'It's ... green,' Arandelle said finally. 'I don't do green.'

Hermione sighed, and put the dress back. 'I don't see why you're so paranoid about this. It's your one chance for you and Ron to get together.'

'Don't talk about me and Ron in the same sentence.' Arandelle flopped down into a chair. The owner of the store looked at her disparagingly. Hermione, on the other hand, kept browsing.

'Why not? I thought you were in love with each other.'

'It's a crush, Hermione,' Arandelle said edgily. 'Please. I don't want to talk about it.'

'Well, okay.' She emerged from the racks with another dress in her hands. 'I don't see why you're so angsty about it, but okay. How about this one?' she added about her next suggestion.

Arandelle gave Hermione a look. 'Well, for a start, it looks like a dead animal.'

'Technically, it is a dead animal,' Hermione said. 'Leather. It's a killer. Ron will love it.'

'Nope. Don't use "Ron" and "love" in the same sentence either.' She sighed. 'I can't even pay for any of this stuff ... don't make me do this, Herm.'

'Gringotts exchanges all Muggle currencies without any extra charge. It doesn't matter. I'll pay. Who cares? We don't have anything to pay for, since you won't buy anything!'

'It's not that I mind the whole going out thing so much,' Arandelle admitted. Hermione beamed. 'It's just ... couldn't you pick something else?"

Now, she just looked offended. 'Fine then,' Hermione said. 'Which one do you like?'

Arandelle hesitated, but only for a moment. 'That one,' she said, pointing to a dress in the corner, made of sleek evening blue fabric.

---

'The way it works, Severus,' Dumbledore paced around the Potions Master's office. 'is that it doesn't actually bring the person back to life. That's why it has always been overlooked. It is usually only used when the patient is in a death-sleep or something similar.'

Snape's head emerged from around the door that lead to his storeroom. 'I've got most of what you need right here, Professor,' he announced. 'Alihotsy leaves, essence of wakeflower ...'

'Good,' Dumbledore said. 'Very good.' He began to leave the room. 'I'll send Hagrid to Knockturn Alley to see if he can find some of the other things, and maybe Lupin can help us get our hands on lyrebird tail feathers.'

'About that, sir.' Snape brushed his robes of dust and strode quickly towards him. 'About Lupin-'

'What about Lupin?' Dumbledore's voice was dangerously calm. Snape frowned slightly, but maintained their gaze.

'Is he really ...' Snape struggled to think of an appropriate word '... necessary?'

'Yes, I assure you he is necessary,' Dumbledore answered, though he hid a smile. Then, almost as an afterthought, 'As are you.'

Snape's eyes glittered in reply. 'Whenever you need me, Headmaster, I will be there.'

'Good.' Dumbledore considered this for a moment, before adding, 'Very good.' He turned around to leave - just in time to see the door open before he could even begin to move towards it.

Snape bared his teeth in a snarl. It was Lupin - this was just not his day. But Lupin barely had time to open his mouth in objection before -

'Ah, there you are, Remus,' Dumbledore smiled, grasping his once-student's hand in greeting. The other two occupants in the room looked thoroughly bewildered.

'You - invited - him?' Snape growled maliciously.

Dumbledore chose to ignore this. Instead, he said, 'I've been wondering if you could help us. We're in a bit of a predicament at the moment. You see, we were trying to gather the ingredients for the potion and it seems that we've run into a probl-'

'Lyrebird tail-feathers, Lupin,' Snape interrupted, unable to participate in the common rules of politeness. 'We need them. The only birds in the world are in Australia. You can't import them, or we'd have them already. If you even suggest it, the Ministry will give you twenty years in the Muggle electric chair. It falls upon you -' at this point in the one-sided conversation, Snape jabbed his finger into Lupin's chest '- to get us some.'

'Severus ...' Dumbledore murmured, looking worried.

'We don't care how you do it. In my opinion, twenty years in the electric chair would be a much-needed improvement - but maybe that's just little, old, me. Get the tail feathers, Lupin. By next week.'

'It's Saturday,' Lupin said, looking slightly outraged.

'Oh, look,' Snape sneered. 'The werewolf finally learned to read his calendar.' The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

'Severus!' Dumbledore said sharply.

'Sorry, Headmaster,' Snape mumbled.

'Have you told him about his assignment yet?' Lupin asked Dumbledore, not caring if he sounded like Snape wasn't even in the room.

'No.' The corners of Dumbledore's mouths twitched.

'What assignment?' Snape demanded.

'You will find out in due course,' Dumbledore replied, with a wink. But the amused look faded almost as soon as it appeared.

'We shouldn't be laughing,' he said much more seriously.

Lupin was about to make the obvious comment about Snape's face and laughing, but the words fell off his lips. The room was silent for moment as Dumbledore grew thoughtful. It seemed, to Lupin, that even the shadows in the corners of the room were growing darker by the second. But surely it was his imagination.

Even Snape was quiet, which was a somewhat startling feat.

'Australia, did you say?' Lupin said finally.

'Australia,' Dumbledore confirmed distantly. 'Would it be too much trouble to-'

'Not at all,' Lupin replied with a grin. 'I know just the person we can get some of these feathers from.'

'Who?' Snape was mildly curious.

'My roommate.'

---

He was standing on the edge of a cliff, facing towards the sea. The water was dark and cold - streams of fog were flying off it. The wind, too, was cold although for some reason he couldn't feel it. The night sky was absent of stars, but two moons rose up above him. Looking around him, he saw miles upon miles of cliff and ocean. Nothing else. No sign of civilisation. All of it was untouched, and he was the only human there.

A particularly thick stream of fog rose towards him. As he stared at it, it swirled around itself like a cloud, forming itself into some kind of figure as it floated above the water.

'Harry ...'

It was the wind calling his name. Bewildered, he leaned forward slightly, hoping to hear it again.

'Harry ...'

The voice was gentle, but tortured. The wind seemed to circle around him, enveloping him in its invisible folds. He tried to bat at it with his hands, but he couldn't seem to get a hold on anything substantial.

Then a face appeared out of nowhere, carved in semi-transparent white fog. 'Harry ...' it whispered in a familiar voice, and -

Harry jerked upright in bed. It took him a moment to realise where he was. As he reached for his glasses, he realised that it was the last day of the Christmas holidays. Term would be starting tomorrow. There was a slightly impatient feel about the castle. He drew back the hangings of his four-poster with a sigh.

Things were happening much too fast. Too fast for his liking anyway.

The dream forgotten in an instant, he swung his legs over the side of his bed. He wasn't suprised to find that it was still dark outside when he drew back the curtains at the window. He turned around, yawning widely.

And jumped, startled. He'd been too sleepy to notice that he hadn't been the only one awake at the time.

'Neville,' he said, by way of greeting. 'I didn't notice you.'

'Hullo, Harry,' Neville said from his perch on the side of his bed. 'Sorry for giving you a scare,' he added apologetically.

'S'ok. What're you doing up this early?'

'I could ask you the same question,' Neville replied giving him a shrewd look. Harry stifled the laugh that had started to vibrate upwards from his stomach. 'What are you doing up, Harry?'

Harry hesitated. 'Couldn't sleep,' he said vaguely.

'Me too.' Neville shuffled around, looking for his slippers. 'I had this weird dream, y'know? About this box.' He shuddered.

Harry, not too anxious to hear about Neville's box, smiled quickly. 'I think I'll go take a walk before breakfast,' he said, pulling on the jumper that Mrs. Weasley had sent him and a pair of oversized trousers.

'Oh, okay.' His companion held one slipper in his hand and was now desperately searching for the other one. 'It's too cold for me, thanks, Harry. You go ahead.'

Slightly relieved, Harry left Gryffindor Tower and headed down to the Entrance Hall. He was just debating to himself whether to see if Hagrid was awake yet or to take a stroll around the lake when Professor Dumbledore swept in, fully dressed and serious.

'Good morning, Professor,' Harry greeted him briefly, and was about to continue out onto the ground when Dumbledore, who had stopped when he'd spoken to him, called out to him.

'Harry ...' Dumbledore said. His voice was hesitant, but Harry heard him quite clearly.

'Professor?'

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes seemed to be assessing him very carefully. 'I was wondering if, perhaps, you'd like to take a walk with me?'

'Uhh ... of course,' Harry replied after some hesitation, thoroughly bewildered. All the other times that they had "talked", the news had been bad and, somehow, he was under the impression that Dumbledore wasn't about to change.

'Good.' Dumbledore strode swiftly over to Harry's side. 'I have something to tell you. Let us proceed,' he added. Harry wasn't sure whether he meant the walk or the talk.

---

'You'll need to leave as soon as you've done the potion, you'll need to leave,' Professor McGonagall said tersely. Her hands were folded neatly on the table in front of her - at least, that was one would've seen at first glance. Another look would've revealed the white of her knuckled pressed tight against her skin. 'Your timing is absolutely essential. The Dark Lord must not suspect a thing.'

'Minerva, I know,' Severus Snape said, as reassuringly as his personality would allow. 'What I don't understand is why - why Lupin has to come along.'

'He's there to keep an eye on you, and to pass you information,' McGonagall replied, unamused. 'And, of course, to get information from you.' A smile flickered across her face. 'Think of it this way,' she said. 'He's your insurance in case things get really bad over there.'

'Great,' Snape said sarcastically. 'That's absolutely brilliant. I have a werewolf as my back up.'

'That's part of the reason Dumbledore chose him. He may be able to pass among the other creatures He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has gathered if he has to.'

'That's hardly reassuring.'

'Get over it, Severus,' Professor McGonagall told him sharply. 'We need you in there. Now more than ever.'

Snape glared at her for a moment, before throwing his hands up in resignation. 'When do I start?' he asked, totally unenthusiastically.

---

It could no longer be considered "early" when Harry turned up at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. Both Ron and Hermione were already halfway through their meal. Harry slumped into an empty seat next to them and began to pile pieces of toast onto his plate without a word. Hermione stared at him.

'What's up with you, Harry?' she asked curiously.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, wondering how to explain what he had just heard. 'Dumbledore and I just had the weirdest conversation,' he said finally.

'Oh?' Hermione only looked faintly surprised. This must be getting too frequent or something, Harry thought to himself, amused.

'Yeah. I think "oh" is the right word,' he said and bit into a his toast. Next to him, Ron was opening a letter from his brother Charlie. There was an identical letter next to his arm that looked like it had come from Bill. With a sigh, he folded up the letter and squashed it under his elbow.

'Harry,' Hermione said exasperatedly. 'Tell us what Dumbledore said.'

'Ron, you'd better listen to this as well,' he told the youngest Weasley boy. Then, to both of them he said, 'Dumbledore thinks that Arandelle's death - sorry Ron - may not have been entirely Voldemort's doing. Neither do I, for that matter. He wants us to help him and Snape brew a potion to bring back Arandelle's spirit for a short while so we can ask her.'

'Well if Dumbledore thinks so-' Hermione began but Ron interrupted her.

'Yeah, that's right, Hermione,' he said savagely. 'If Dumbledore thinks so, it has to be right. One day when Dumbledore decides to die, it'll be a good idea too, right?'

'Ron!' Hermione snapped. He was quiet after that and Harry knew he hadn't really meant it. The thought of resurrecting his first crush had overwhelmed him. Probably.

'I said we'd help him. And we will, won't we?' Harry said as breezily as he could.

Hermione caught on less than a second later. 'Absolutely. Let's do it. What does he need help with?'

'Well, mainly they need a Focus -'

'What's that?' Ron asked half-heartedly.

'A Focus is a personal object belonging to any living thing with a soul - meaning all sentient creatures.' Hermione, of course. 'Some wizards believe that the soul must actually be part of the thing to make it a Focus. Most witches and wizards only have one or two Focuses in their possession, although a person with a particularly strong essence may have up to five.'

'Thanks for that,' Ron said. 'But you forgot one thing ... does an object have to be made a Focus, or does it become one on own?'

Hermione frowned. 'No book I've read actually specifies either way ('So no book in existence then,' Ron muttered. Harry winked at him.) so I don't rightly know. Maybe if we just bring some of Arandelle's possessions to Dumbledore and he'll be able to figure it out ...'

'Can you get access to Arandelle's dorm as well, Hermione?' Harry asked. 'She might have had some things in there that haven't been touched yet.' Hermione nodded.

'I've got the Phoenix quill she sent me for Christmas,' Harry continued. 'Um ... Ron, do you have anything?'

Ron hesitated, then grimaced. His brown eyes met Harry's emerald ones, and they were locked in a stare. Then, slowly, he reached under his shirt and pulled out something that had lain there.

It was too long to be a necklace - more like a medallion, or a talisman. The chain glowed a reddish gold and the links were extremely small. Strung on the chain was exquisitely detailed bird, with tiny topazes for its eyes and its tail ending in what looked like a ruby.

'That's beautiful ...' Hermione breathed, watching the sunlight twinkle across the feature. In Ron's large palms, the bird was even more dwarfed.

'It is, isn't it?' Ron agreed quietly, smiling almost shyly at her.

---

'You still don't think Voldemort will be the slightest bit suspicious if I just turn up on his doorstep?' Snape asked, shoving belongings into a traveling bag.

'I'm not forcing you to do this,' Dumbledore said. He was standing at the window, hands behind his back, looking out onto the grounds.

'Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten,' Snape sneered. 'This is my chance to clear my conscience. That was what I was signing up for last time, if you remember.'

'That's right.' Dumbledore turned away from the window to look over the shelves in Snape's office. He picked up a large bottle of clear liquid. 'Severus ... what's this?' He held the bottle out towards the Potions master.

Snape glanced up briefly. 'Veritaserum,' he said shortly, before returning to his packing.

Dumbledore frowned. 'It's illegal to own this much of Veritaserum - you know that.'

'Mmm.'

Placing Veritaserum back on its shelf, he toyed with a silvery white rock. 'And this?'

'That's plutonium ore. Put it down, Headmaster. It's very dangerous.'

'I see.' Dumbledore returned the plutonium to its former position, and pointed to a vial of white liquid. 'I suppose this is hebenon, or something else lethally potent?'

Snape gave him a look. 'That's my shaving cream.'

---

Hermione burst through the door of Harry and Ron's dorm. 'I've got it,' she gasped.

Ron looked up. 'Got what?'

In reply, she held up the thing she had been carrying in her hand. Harry recognised it instantly, though it had been some weeks since he had seen it last.

To anyone else, it would appear to be nothing more than a gnarled, twisted stick. But he was one of the few in the world who could begin to imagine the boundaries of its power. He himself wielded a brother to Arandelle's Wand of Air, but he had never had a chance to test it at its full capacity. And he hoped he never would.

The battle in which he had claimed the Wand of Earth from Voldemort was not one he would soon forget. It had almost cost him the life of one of his best friends.

'It was in her dorm,' Hermione said breathlessly. 'She didn't take it with her on holidays.' She hesitated. 'She died without a fight.'

There was a moment of silence as they absorbed this information.

'Let's take it to Dumbledore,' Harry suggested. 'He'll be wanting it.'

Hermione clutched the Wand almost reverently. 'Let's go,' she said fiercely.

---

Several minutes later found them knocking on the door of Snape's office. It was definitely unnatural, Harry reckoned.

He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet slightly in anticipation. The torchlight flickered eerily off the ancient stone walls of the underground corridor. He couldn't understand how someone - even someone so insane as Snape - could stand living down here. Perhaps he had been a mole in his past life.

Yes, that was probably it. A mole with a passion for hair-grease.

WHAM.

Harry was startled out of thoughts by a large, worn pewter cauldron that had been smashed down upon his head. His eyes glazed out of focus and his knees gave way. Another blow, and he lying against the cobblestones that lined the floor. He couldn't see it, but he could certainly feel the brutal purple bruise welling up on the side of his head.

A person with red hair yelped and lunged with all his might at the attacker. In the distance, he heard a girl screaming. He tried to get up, but he was instantly knocked down by a hand. A very large, padded hand.

This time he stayed down.

'What's ... going ... on ...?' he whispered to no one but himself, just before everything went black.