Harry Potter and the Secret of Gairech

20. The Repayment of a Debt

The basin stood before him, set at waist height on a thick column made of smooth, black stone. And without stopping, as if it were part of some eternal cycle, the snake glided out of the hollow eyes of the corpse then disappeared through the gaping jaw into the innermost skull. With every movement, the liquid it was floating in sloshed gently against the rim of the basin. Sesachar took Harry firmly by the shoulders. "Calm down," he whispered. "You should never show fear before the Soul Eater."

"The what?" Harry gasped, and Snape gestured towards the basin.

"An invention of the Death Eaters," he told him coolly. "The most effective instrument of torture ever developed."

Harry felt himself break out in a cold sweat. He stared at Snape, at the basin in front of him, and at Sesachar, and he was overpowered by a wave of emotion. They had betrayed him - both of them. They had wormed their way into his confidence with their little story about Snape's supposed daughter and their resistance against the Dark Lord. But it had all been a lie - every word! Dumbledore was dead. And that had cleared the way for Snape and his treacherous new accomplice. There could only be one reason for bringing him here, now, when the rest of the staff were busy defending the school from intruders. The other teachers had failed. The enemy was already among them, and had taken Harry prisoner in a dark room in the depths of the dungeon. And no one would hear him scream...

Harry flung himself against Sesachar as hard as he could, and the teacher stumbled backwards. He hit the wall hard, but before Harry could rush past him into the office, Sesachar caught hold of his arm with an iron grip. In the green light Harry saw his eyes gleaming darkly.

"Wait Harry!" he urged him, but Snape shook his head. "Let him go, Pithormin. The boy will never trust us. It was a stupid idea." He stared coldly at Harry, who looked back at him in fury.

"And I was stupid enough to come down here!" he screamed. "You traitors!"

Sesachar gave him a shake. "Be reasonable!" he shouted. "We don't want to hurt y..." a desperate blow from Harry's fist sent him reeling backwards, and in surprise he let the boy go.

With a grimace, Sesachar rubbed his aching jaw and Snape laughed softly. "I told you the boy was difficult..."

Harry was shaking with rage, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men. He could feel the tension in every muscle, every sinew of his body.

Sesachar sighed. "We're not plotting against you Harry, you need to understand that," he tried again. "We just want to..."

"Lock me in a room with thick walls and torture me?" Harry interrupted defiantly. Snape ran a finger over his lips. He looked thoughtful. "That's not a bad idea..."

"Severus!" Sesachar glared at him. "Stop that! You'll only confirm his suspicions about us! Harry, come here."

"No!"

"Potter, come here!" Snape had stepped forward from the basin and taken hold of Harry's shoulder. "And use your brains, for once!"

"He is," Sesachar answered, still rubbing his jaw. "That's the problem. He thinks we're going to betray him."

Harry clenched his fists again and felt a wave a fury race through his body. Oh yes, that was exactly what he thought. He was convinced of it. But he wasn't about to give himself up to these men!

"Dammit, Harry!" Sesachar looked at him intently. "We're on your side! How often do we have to repeat that?"

"As often as you want," Harry shouted. "I don't believe a word of it!" And he pointed at the glowing basin in the middle of the room.

Sesachar sighed. "We don't want to harm you. So please sit down and listen to me."

Harry showed no sign of obeying this request, but he gave in when Snape's iron grip forced him down onto a chair.

"Yes, the Soul Eater is used by the Death Eaters as an instrument of torture. That's true." Sesachar sat down opposite Harry. "They used it to find any wizard or witch who had ever spoken out against the Dark Lord. Before executing anyone who was openly against them, they forced that person to betray all his allies - with the help of this basin."

"It reads your mind," Snape rasped. "It finds every picture hidden in your memory. No one can protect themselves. The... procedure with which this instrument was employed left even the strongest wizards weak and laid their memories bare for anyone to see. No one was a match for the Soul Eater."

"And why are you telling me that?" Harry snapped back. "What else do you want to know? What information are you trying to force out of me?"

"Nothing you don't want to tell us, Harry," Sesachar said calmly. "When was the last time you had a vision? In the last few weeks?"

"I haven't," Harry answered stubbornly.

Snape gave a thin smile. "Are you lying to us, or did you really learn something in my lessons?"

Harry grimaced. "I haven't had any visions. Not for ages... not since I've been studying Occlumency again..." he said reluctantly.

"And before that?" Sesachar asked.

Professor Snape interpreted the following silence and said in a cool voice: "So you did. Why else would you have come voluntarily to ask me to teach you again? What was the vision Potter?"

"Nothing interesting," Harry growled back, unwilling to answer.

"Harry..." Sesachar looked at him entreatingly. "You don't like these visions and it's great that you can block them out like you do now. But everything you've seen can help us - help you especially - if you can remember it."

For a moment it looked as if Harry would try to escape again, but finally he gave in. "A man," he murmured, summoning the last vision he had had into his memory. "In a house, with a dead dog. And the Death Eaters were there."

Sesachar frowned. "What did they say?"

"I don't remember..."

"No more details, Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. Nothing..."

"But everything you saw is still inside you," Sesachar explained calmly. "You might have suppressed it, but it's all still there. And the Soul Eater could reveal it... Every detail..."

"No!" Harry retorted. "I'm not going to let you torture me!"

Pithormin sighed. "Like I said, we're not planning to torture you. And there are ways to use the Soul Eater without hurting you in the least. I swear on my life that nothing will happen if you trust us and do exactly as we say."

"Why should I trust you?" Harry asked accusingly.

Snape looked at him coldly. "Because we might be able to help you kill the Dark Lord. No one else knows him as well as we do."

Harry was silent for a moment. Then he lowered his head resignedly. "All right then..." he took a deep breath. "Do it..."

Sesachar nodded, stood up from his chair and signed to Harry to follow him to the basin. As he stood in front of it, Harry looked again at the coiling snake in the pale skull at the bottom. Pithormin pointed to two notches, one at either side of the heavy stone bowl, just above the thick, quivering liquid. "You put your thumbs in there so that the tips of your fingers dip into the gel. As soon as you do that, Harry, shut your eyes. That's the most important thing. As long as you're in contact with the Soul Eater, don't open your eyes on any account, no matter what happens. And don't be frightened - just relax. This creature works with fear, so don't give it a foothold. Don't let it get to you. Think about something that makes you happy, as if you were summoning your Patronus, all right?"

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Keep your eyes closed," Sesachar repeated. "You'll see what we see, in your mind's eye. So you won't miss anything. I'll be here behind you. Nothing can happen to you. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded again and Sesachar laid his hands on his shoulders. "Great. Perfect." He looked at Snape, who nodded without saying a word. "Let's get started."

Harry took a deep breath and slid his hands across the cold stone of the basin until he reached the thumb notches. He bowed his head and shut his eyes, searching for a nice, calming thought. A smile played about his lips when he found it, and he relaxed as Sesachar had told him to. Then he dipped his fingertips into the thick, fluorescent green liquid. It was cold, and Harry winced slightly. Sesachar tightened his grip on Harry's shoulders. "Don't open your eyes," he whispered. "Don't open them..."

"Ostendito!" He heard Snape's voice, and then there was a short, squelching, slipping sound, as if something had broken out of the gel in the basin. Then Harry felt a heavy weight on his forehead. He fought hard against the urge to open his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. "Stay calm," he commanded himself. "Don't panic...". For a split second, confusing images danced hectically around in his mind. Snape was looking for the vision - Harry knew it. And intuitively he called up a vague picture of the man in his memory, dressed in farmer's clothing, kneeling on an old wooden floor, and...

That was it!

The man kneeling on the floor in shabby clothing. In a faded grey tunic, torn in several places and tied together with a simple piece of thread. He was barefoot, and his fingers were rough from hard work. There were scratches and healed bite wounds on his arms, and even his face bore the trace of attacks by animals. His eyes were pale blue, and he was staring up in terror at the dark figures. His hair was shoulder length, snowy white, matted and tangled.

His hands were buried in the long, thick fur of a dog - silver-grey and smeared with blood, its eyes blank and lifeless. Its powerful legs were stretched away from its body, and its long bushy tail hung over its back paws. Its jaws were half open, and its tongue hung limply between them. That animal wasn't a dog. It was too big. The glow might have disappeared from its eyes, but Harry could clearly see what it was - a silverfur.

It was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Old, mouldy wooden floorboards and beyond them a bare room with an abandoned table, a nailed up window and a dirty straw mattress.

"Please... please don't!" the old man begged, his eyes full of tears. But two figures in dark cloaks stepped forward. They had pulled off their hoods, and Harry saw a bald man on the right and a tall blond man on the left. His long, sleek hair fell about his shoulders and Harry knew that it was Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy had pulled out his wand and was pointing it at the old man on the floor.

"You can't!" the old man moaned. "They're unpredictable if you don't know how to deal with them. Please, you can't..."

Harry's vision was blocked by a swirling black cloak, then a word rang out, quiet, but sharp: "Crucio!" And the voice of the old man cracked in pain as he writhed on the floor under the cruel torture...

It was like a mental blackout, - the vision was over and Harry felt himself losing control. His mind was confused, his body still tense. Again he felt Sesachars hands on his shoulders, and heard him speaking insistently: "Keep your eyes closed, Harry..."

Pictures raced past. Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the enormous courtroom, staring coldly down at him. The death curse as it hit him. The snakes in the dungeon of the Ministry of Magic. Wormtail standing by the gigantic cauldron in the unknown, distant churchyard, cutting off his hand and screaming loudly...

"Finis!" Snape shouted and something cold writhed in protest behind Harry's sinuses, as if it were fighting against the power dragging it out, until it broke heavily through the top of his skull. Then there was a muffled splash. In rising panic, Harry gasped for air.

"It's all right. It's over." Sesachar held onto him as he swayed. "You can open your eyes."

Harry regretted it when he did, because he felt very faint. Everything seemed blurred and it was a while before his vision cleared. He stared into the glowing basin in front of him, where the snake writhed angrily and hissed up at him, before gliding into the eye cavity to the right of the pale skull.

Harry was overcome by sickness once more, and turned away from the basin. Sesachar pulled up the chair for him and he sank weakly down into it. "That thing was inside me!" he burst out, and it wasn't a question but rather a statement of fact.

Snape glanced at the basin and nodded. "Why else would it be called a Soul Eater?"

"That's why we wanted you to keep your eyes closed. It's only if you see what happens... how it...well, how it forces its way inside you - that's when it becomes torture."

Harry looked at him in confusion, and Sesachar pressed his hands together. "The snake isn't real. It's like... well, call it a ghost. An evil hallucination which can torture its victims to death, if they let it. And most people forced to dip their fingers into the basin were afraid. And their fear made them open their eyes, inflicting the cruellest torture on themselves."

"Which you therefore escaped, Potter." Snape had approached the old, dark shelves and pulled out a well-worn book. He leafed through it, thoughtfully. "I'm sure it was Starseer," he murmured to himself.

Harry sat up in his chair and Sesachar held out a bar of chocolate. "Here, eat some," he commanded. "It'll do you good."

Harry took a bite of chocolate and turned to Snape. "Who's Starseer?"

"Benton Starseer," Snape continued searching through the book, "is one of the greatest alchemists of our time... And one of the last who worked with Nicholas Flamel..."

"He was a very close friend of Nicholas," Sesachar said. "They've known each other for three hundred years. In Benton, Nicholas always saw the son he never had. And that's why Starseer is still alive today."

"He had some of the elixir?" Harry asked. "The elixir Flamel extracted from the Philosopher's Stone?"

"That's right," Sesachar nodded. "But now the Stone has been destroyed, their days are numbered. Fortunately. Eat up your chocolate, Harry."

"Why fortunately?" Harry asked instead of following Sesachar's instructions.

"Starseer went over to the dark side." Snape handed the book to Harry. "When Voldemort came to power, he followed him. And Flamel withdrew from his former friend and refused to give him any more of the elixir. That's why Starseer is so old now. And mortal, like everyone else."

"But why did he change sides?" Harry swallowed down a mouthful of chocolate. "If he was like a son to Flamel all those years, how could he go over to the dark side, just like that?"

Snape pointed to the book. "The drawings, Potter. What do you see?"

Harry looked down at the open page. "Silverfurs," he murmured.

"That's right." Snape folded his arms across his chest. "Starseer was there when the last of the species was hunted down. It was he who found the very last animal. And he made the mistake of not killing it, because it was a cub."

"When they're cubs, they're hardly distinguishable from regular wolves," Sesachar added. "The only difference is the unusual colour of their fur. They're just as playful and cute as other young animals. No one with a kind heart could kill one, unless he knew what it would become once it grew up."

"They're not killers when they're born," Snape nodded. "They turn into killers later. But Starseer kept the cub and raised it himself. This last silverfur would never have done him any harm, because it saw him as its pack leader. But to anyone else, that animal was the monster it had always been."

Sesachar sighed softly. "Starseer kept the animal hidden in his house for years. Silverfurs are immortal, Harry, like harpies, dragons and unicorns, as long as no one kills them... When Voldemort seized power and the Death Eaters came to his house to kill him, almost all of them were torn apart by the silverfur. Voldemort managed to turn the animal to stone, and made Starseer a momentous offer..."

"Voldemort let him live, and in return he bred those killing machines for him?" Harry guessed, and Sesachar nodded. "Exactly. But this project wasn't completed before the Dark Lord disappeared."

"But now it's been successful," Snape growled. "That's the only way to explain the pack of silverfurs in the woods. They're young, very young... We've had the animals we captured examined by the Ministry of Magic. None of them was older than a year and a half. And we won't find any older than that."

"But the one belonging to Starseer..." Harry began, but Snape interrupted him:

"...was the one you saw in your vision. It's dead. It was no use to Voldemort, because it only obeyed Starseer, not him."

"Unlike its descendants," Sesachar said gloomily. "He must have gone to Starseer as soon as he regained his body, to force him to keep his promise and create his obedient, murderous army. That was what Voldemort was so busy with last year, when we heard nothing of him for months. He was raising his little monsters..."

"And collecting together his scattered harpies," Harry growled. "How many more armies did he have? How many more aces does he have up his sleeve?"

Snape scoffed. "The giants, Potter. The giants..."

"And the Dementors too, if we finally do lose control over them," Sesachar added.

"Great," Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How am I ever supposed to defeat him when he has so many submissive helpers?"

Sesachar smiled faintly. "You don't have to fight against his armies, Harry. Only against Voldemort. That's all."

"Right. That's all." He gave a tense laugh.

"You'll have your chance, Potter," Snape drawled, taking back the book. "And the Dark Lord has a weakness, which you will have to find out."

"What is his weakness?" Harry asked.

Snape looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Pettigrew." He nodded towards the basin with the Soul Eater. "Have you forgotten which hand he cut off?"

"Am I supposed to notice little details like that?" Harry growled, feeling his rebellious stomach start to churn again.

Snape leant towards him, his eyes gleaming and his voice little more than a hiss. "His crippled hand, Potter. The missing finger. Didn't you think of that?"

Harry swallowed and drove the image of the severed arm from his thoughts. "No, sir."

"To give the Dark Lord a body, his servant didn't offer up the best he could give, but the worst. Have you ever read up about Cauldrons of Rebirth, Potter? I imagine not..." Snape gave a thin smile. "The Cauldron of Bran brought warriors back to life, but took away their ability to speak. The cauldron of Annun brought forth soulless demons."

Harry stared at him.

And he realised that Peter Pettigrew had repaid his debt.

21. Draco's Triumph

January passed by amid the wailing of cold winter storms. The weather seemed to match the general mood in the wizarding world. To the great displeasure of McGonagall and several other teachers, the news of Dumbledore's death had spread and caused considerable panic in some quarters.

"Some families are going to leave Britain and move to other countries," Sesachar told them as they sat together in the library. "They're afraid of Voldemort... And he will be glad that the resistance is running away, instead of forming a strong league against him. Albus' death is the best thing that could have happened to that monster. The fear in this country is greater than ever. And people are becoming less willing to fight against the Dark Lord. It's frightening what one man alone can achieve, through his life, his actions and through his death..."

He looked attentively at Harry, but Harry was looking down, not speaking. The Professor sighed quietly. Secretly he had been expecting - no, hoping - that Harry's reaction would be very different from this mute resignation. But Harry's anger seemed to have disappeared since that day when he had wanted to kill Snape with his bare hands. His fierce hatred had been smothered beneath a deep emptiness that had filled him and many others in the castle. The news reaching them from outside the school only served to cripple his spirit. Things couldn't go on like this much longer - and no one knew this as well as Pithormin Sesachar.

***

Every day Azi McKenzie and his men breakfasted with the students in the Great Hall and then left the castle. They seldom returned before twilight, and when they did they were normally in a terrible state. Day after day, Madam Pomfrey was kept busy providing them with the treatment they needed. "Those wretched harpies!" growled Xanthos Podarge, one of the hunters, while Madam Pomfrey rubbed one of her foul-smelling tinctures into the gaping wound on his arm. "And this stuff burns like fire!" he complained. "I'll never get used to it..."

The small band of men were having a difficult time, but they weren't unsuccessful. Within two weeks they had considerably reduced the size of the harpy swarm and also caught two silverfurs. The atmosphere in the school gradually became more relaxed.

"There can't be that many more harpies," Sesachar conjectured as he went down the dungeon steps with Harry, Hermione and Ron. "We reckoned there were almost seventy animals in the original swarm. At least half of them have been hunted down and destroyed. We're not sure about the number of silverfurs, but there can't be that many of them. Thanks to you we've already got rid of six, and then three more the night of the attacks, and two have been caught by the hunters. I don't think it will be long before Professor McGonagall lets the other students return to Hogwarts, to begin lessons again... We've already lost three valuable weeks..."

"What if Voldemort attacks?" Harry asked, worried.

Sesachar sighed. "That's still a risk, of course. But there's always been a risk since you joined this school, Harry. We'll do everything we can to ensure the safety of the students. That's always been the way in Hogwarts."

"Maybe You-Know-Who isn't stupid enough to send a handful of Death Eaters to Hogwarts where they'd be outnumbered by an army of students," Ron mused, with a faint smile. "I think if we stick together, we've got a chance."

"A considerable chance," said Professor Sesachar. "There are a lot of capable students, especially in the higher classes. But what we don't need are people going it alone."

"Like Malfoy?" Ron snorted.

The Professor sighed. "Yes. I'm very worried about that boy..."

***

Pithormin was right. Two days later Professor McGonagall announced that teaching would be resumed. The Hogwarts Express would arrive at the school the next weekend.

The upper floors were no longer out of bounds, once they had been thoroughly searched one last time. Everything seemed safe, and the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor common rooms were made accessible again that Friday.

"Actually I don't want to move back," Hannah sighed as she packed her things together in the dungeon dormitory. "I like being with all these people here..."

Anthony nodded. "Yeah, me too. Can't we just stay here and kick out Malfoy and his crew?"

"Why do we have to lock ourselves in our common rooms away from the rest of the group?" Dean wondered.

Hermione shut her suitcase. "It's quite simple: for our own safety. If anyone gets into the castle, he won't be able to get into our rooms, because he won't know the password."

"But all of us..." Cho began, but Max interrupted her:

"Would you want Malfoy to know your password?"

The Ravenclaw sighed. "No, of course not."

"We might trust each other," Violetta said softly. "But in every house there are people we don't trust, right?"

They were silent for a while, searching the room for any belongings they might have forgotten.

"So long as the others haven't arrived, we can all stay down here another night, can't we?" Neville said.

Ron smiled. "Sure. Why hang around in the tower on our own? Besides... it'll get on Pansy's nerves that we're still in the girls' dormitories."

"I'd like to see her try to kick us out," Ginny grinned. "Maybe spots will suit her as well as they suited Malfoy..."

***

Although they were sorry to go back to their common rooms the next morning, breaking up the community in which they had felt so secure over the last few weeks, they were happy to be reunited with some of their classmates whom they hadn't seen for weeks. Dennis Creevey waved to them with both arms as he entered the Great Hall.

"Boy was Christmas boring without you!" he called, greeting his friends enthusiastically.

With a shy smile, Ron took Amber in his arms, blushing when he saw Harry, Dean and Max grinning at him.

"No kiss?" teased Max.

"No 'I've missed you'?" Harry added.

"How unromantic," Dean smirked.

Ron looked at the three of them indignantly. "You're all so damned stu.." he began, but Amber soon shut him up.

"Girls," Ginny said proudly. "We take matters into our own hands. How else would we get anywhere with you boys?"

But the students' happiness in seeing each other was short-lived. They soon noticed that some of their number had not returned. Many families were afraid for their children, and some had decided not to send them back to Hogwarts because of the danger of further attacks during the school year.

When McGonagall got up from her chair, the hall was already silent.

"As you all know, there was an incident at Hogwarts which made it necessary for us to keep you away from the school for three weeks longer than the usual holiday period." She sighed quietly. "That night a large swarm of harpies attacked, probably incited by a group of Death Eaters who likewise forced their way into the castle. None of the students present were harmed, but sadly Professor Dumbledore was killed in a confrontation with the Death Eaters."

There was an anxious murmur of voices, and all the newly returned students watched McGonagall intently, as if they hadn't believed the alarming headlines in the Daily Prophet and were only just coming to terms with the fact that their beloved headmaster was no longer among them.

"Three Death Eaters were captured, and the harpies were driven out. The Ministry immediately sent an experienced group of hunters who managed to eliminate a good number of those animals, so they no longer pose a significant threat." She nodded towards the end of the Ravenclaw table, where McKenzie was sitting with his men. "For everyone's safety, however, you are forbidden to leave the castle unless accompanied by a teacher. Herbology will no longer be taught in the greenhouses but rather in the library on the fifth floor. The same applies for Care of Magical Creatures. In these subjects you will have to make do with some dry theory for the next few weeks. Your heads of houses will be informing you of further rules which have been tightened to ensure your safety."

Ron groaned. "More rules...?"

"Furthermore, all Quidditch matches have been cancelled until further notice," McGonagall continued. "And you will understand that training is also forbidden."

Harry, Zacharias and Terry sighed, but Draco looked very contented. Slytherin might have been disqualified, but now no other team could win the Quidditch Cup this year either.

***

That Monday morning in Charms, Professor Flitwick immediately started on a new topic - Apparation. At the end of the school year, all sixth-year students would have to take an exam to obtain an official licence from the Ministry, which would allow them to use this extremely time-efficient means of travelling. However, they would have to sit through many boring theory lessons before they were allowed to practise this magical ability themselves.

Care of Magical Creatures turned out to be pretty heavy going, now that Hagrid could no longer introduce them to his more spectacular animal friends, which didn't fit through the doorway or couldn't be smuggled into the castle. The students were not especially interested in the ugly Horklump, which didn't appear to be useful for anything much. And the Augurey that Hagrid brought to the next lesson caused a mass exodus from the classroom when the bird, which looked like a starving vulture, broke out into a long, sorrowful screech. Despite the fact Hagrid had assured them beforehand that superstitions about the cries of the bird being an omen of death were completely unfounded, some of the students seemed unwilling to abandon this mistaken belief - or else they simply couldn't stand the noise.

That afternoon it started to rain, a fact which confirmed Hagrid's theory about the Augurey, which he claimed could reliably predict the weather and only screeched when there was a storm brewing. In the downpour, beneath the low grey clouds, the snow which had covered Hogwarts like a white blanket for several weeks turned into a brownish mush.

***

They worked on their homework for Divination and History of Magic until late into the night. All the teachers seemed eager to catch up in record time with the work they'd missed over the past few weeks.

"I'm dreading Potions," Ron mumbled, chewing his quill. "We're snowed under with homework as it is, and Snape's will be the last straw..."

Hermione was already on her second page of sums for Arithmancy. "Then finish your essay on Augureys tonight," she told him. "I see you haven't done it yet."

"I can't get that done now!" Ron complained. "Have you seen the time? I'll be lucky if I finish History. And anyway, Harry hasn't done his essay either.

His friend laid aside his quill and held up his parchment. "Actually, I have."

Ron's shoulders slumped. "Great. Am I the slow one now because you both enjoy showing me up?"

"I don't exactly enjoy it," Harry grumbled, shaking his right hand, which ached from so much writing. Hermione held out her hand for Ron's history essay.

"Leave it to me. I'll read it through and finish it off. You get on with your essay for Care of Magical Creatures.

"I haven't done Divination yet either," Ron said with a slight cough, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Chuck that rubbish over here!"

Ron beamed at them, handing them each a roll of parchment. "You're such good friends!"

"Or complete softies," Harry murmured, starting to write again.

***

To their astonishment, Snape didn't pile more homework on them the next day. The 'last straw' that Ron was so worried about came from Professor Leroux, who lumbered them with a summary of two complete chapters that they should have worked through in the last two weeks. "My lesson schedule is in a complete mess again," she sighed, looking as if she were trying to rearrange her entire teaching plan in her head. She left the classroom in frustration at the end of the lesson, followed by her equally frustrated students, who preferred not to think about the many hours of intense work they would have to spend on their new assignments.

Hermione got started on the reading during her lunch break. Ron and Harry looked at each other with a sigh, and then did the same, absent-mindedly shovelling up their food.

The afternoon - like every Tuesday afternoon - was entirely taken up with Certamensis classes. Professor Sesachar didn't beat about the bush when he informed them that their practical classes would from now on be much harder and more risky.

"It's time to try some serious duelling, in which you are expected to show no mercy, provided that you can deal with the risk. I therefore do not want any of you to let your friendships get in the way of the purpose of this class. During your practice duels, you should forget that you're fighting a classmate and friend. I don't want to see any exaggerated precautions which could cost you your life if you faced a real opponent." He ran his eyes over the students present. "We need competent, decisive duellers. Does anyone want to volunteer for a first attempt?"

Draco raised his hand without a moment's hesitation.

Sesachar nodded. "Fine, Mr. Malfoy. I don't think it will be difficult to find an opponent for you."

Draco was oblivious to the teacher's jibe. He looked challengingly at Harry, his mouth twisted in a wicked grin. Professor Sesachar noticed this. "Miss Granger?" he asked, turning away to look at Hermione as if Harry didn't exist. "Would you be interested?"

Hermione glanced contemptuously at Malfoy and nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"Good." Sesachar stood up from his desk. "Harry, I'll be needing you again. The rest of you should stay on your benches."

Confused, Harry followed the Professor, Hermione and the disgruntled Malfoy to the stage.

"You stand behind Malfoy," Pithormin ordered him quietly. "I'll be keeping an eye on Hermione. If the worst came to the worst, we'll have to intervene and it's always better when someone watches over each of the opponents. I don't want to be carrying any half-dead students out of this room, no matter whether it's you or Malfoy. That's why I didn't think the two of you would be the best combination for a duel. See what I mean?"

Harry nodded, and Sesachar turned to the right hand side of the stage, where Hermione was standing. Malfoy climbed onto the opposite end and Harry walked behind him.

"Why does Potter have to look after me?" Draco complained. "I don't need his help!"

"He's not there to make sure that nothing happens to you," the Professor answered, smiling. "He's there to stop you if necessary."

Foaming, Draco drew his wand. "Fine, Potter. You'll see what ought to happen to worthless little mudbl..."

Sesachar raised his hand. "Ah, ah! Finish that sentence, Mr. Malfoy, and I'll take off house points. I won't tolerate baseless insults in my classroom. Besides, you're supposed to be duelling with magic, not with your big mouth. So, are you ready?"

The duel began, and Harry watched Malfoy like a hawk. The Slytherin tried several times to trick Hermione, but she had quick reactions and consistently managed to dodge the curses or speak a shield charm. She seemed calm and focussed, while Draco became angrier and more impatient as the duel went on. While dodging one of Hermione's curses, he pointed his wand at her, roaring "Impedimenta!", and this time he hit her.

Harry's hand twitched as Hermione was thrown backwards and Draco shot out the next word: "Imperio!"

Hermione, who had not had the chance to stand up, was hit full force by this curse, and it pinned her mercilessly to the floor like an invisible weight lying across her body. Draco raised his wand like a puppeteer pulling strings.

"Finite incatatem!" Harry had jumped onto the stage, his shoulders shaking with anger. He walked towards Malfoy, his wand still drawn. "An Unforgiveable Curse! Are you out of your mind?" he shouted, beside himself.

Draco, in the meantime, was a picture of tranquillity. He stared back coldly, and his voice was smooth and oily. "Well, there are enough wizards out there who use them. And aren't we supposed to be realistic...?"

"That's as it may be, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Sesachar interrupted, taking Harry by the shoulders and pulling him away from his classmate before he could break Malfoy's nose again. "But those curses are forbidden. And you're still a student, so you have to follow the rules of this school. And those rules explicitly forbid the use of that kind of magic. Twenty points from Slytherin. And Harry, put your wand away before you do something stupid and I have to take points off you too!"

With a murmur of protest, Harry lowered his arm, pushed past the Professor and walked over to Hermione, who was struggling to her feet. Her body was still weak from the after-effects of the Imperio-curse, and Harry helped her to her feet. "That's enough," he growled. "No matter how much Malfoy taunts you, you're not going to..."

Hermione glared at him. "Would you give up just like that?"

Harry looked back at her guiltily, and she pushed him aside. "Then let me get back at him!"

Sesachar looked between the two students and Harry, then finally nodded.

"Okay. Finish the duel. And I don't want to hear any more Unforgivable Curses, understood Mr. Malfoy?"

A smile flickered across Sesachar's face when he saw Harry set his jaw. The apathy that had overtaken him so often during the past few weeks seemed, for the moment, to have deserted him completely. His green eyes no longer looked empty and saddened, but gleamed dangerously as he looked at Malfoy.

Draco snorted and pointed his wand again at Hermione. "She can hardly stand up properly, so why.."

"Collabator!" said Hermione coldly, and he fell backwards as if hit by an invisible fist. Hermione used the disarming spell to take his wand, and stood over him. "Should I tie him up as well?" she spat, looking down at Draco.

Sesachar blinked in surprise. "Oh, you know that spell do you, Miss Granger?" He bit back a grin. "Let's see it then."

And before Malfoy could protest, ropes were winding quickly around his body.

Many of the watching students started to laugh - some less quietly than others.

Finally Professor Sesachar ended the duel and released Malfoy, who was now seething with - in the literal sense of the word - unrestrained fury.

Harry looked threateningly at the Slytherin as he hurried past. "Keen to lose more house points, aren't you?" he provoked him, unable to resist the temptation.

Malfoy turned around. "I don't give a toss about points any more," he hissed maliciously. "What do I care about points if I can have a moment of complete satisfaction?" He lowered his voice still further, with an expression of triumph on his face. "And for one moment, I had her, Potter."

Harry stared after him, stunned, and then, in a wave of fury, he realised that in spite of everything he had underestimated Draco Malfoy.