The Seers' Truth: A Broken Beginning

"I wish I had my camera," Colin Creevy muttered running his hand over the perimeter of the door. "Look at this trapdoor. Wicked!"

Dumbledore reappeared. "Are you still here?" he asked. "Go quickly! Time is running out. And don't forget to shut the trapdoor."

The class hurried out to the adjacent corridor. Ron turned to Harry. "Do you think the Slytherins know where the pictures of Dumbledore and Gryffindor are?"

"I don't know, but I'm not going to tell them," said Harry.

"Tell what?" drawled Malfoy.

"Where Dumbledore's picture is," said Hermione. "That would be cheating."

"Like I need to find Dumbledore. Ha!"

The class split up in different directions. Most of the Gryffindors stuck together, but the Slytherins went off into different corridors on their own.

When they got to the picture of Dumbledore in battle with Grindelwald, the Gryffindors paused.

"Do you think he's supposed to tell us something about where the next picture is?" asked Ron. "Or maybe it opens like the Fat Lady?"

"I don't know." Harry moved closer to the picture and touched Dumbledore on the shoulder.

"I'm a little busy right Harry," said Dumbledore as he dodged an attack from Grindelwald. Harry ran his hand around the frame, but nothing happened.

They stood watching Dumbledore erect a defensive shield around himself and then send a beam of crimson light from his wand. The soundless battle looked eerily real. Dumbledore's robes were scorched and torn. Blood was running from a cut on his cheek. Suddenly, Grindelwald was down. Harry watched as Dumbledore pressed his advantage. Another beam of light struck Grindelwald and he crumpled. Dumbledore spoke to him, but of course, they couldn't hear the words. For a moment, Grindelwald 's eyes implored his audience to help him.

Eloise Midgen stepped toward the picture, a small cry caught in her throat.

Then Grindelwald turned all of his murderous power on the unsuspecting Dumbledore. The entire picture flashed green as Grindelwald put forth his final effort. Green and Red flashed in quick succession and when the picture cleared, Dumbledore was alone and lying still and quiet on the center of the picture. Blood and scorch marks covered the ground.

"Professor!" Harry called, but already other wizards were Apparating into the picture beside him to take him to a hospital somewhere. Dumbledore would answer none of their questions.

Hermione stepped forward. "The first picture did say use our powers of observation, not our powers of speech."

"So does anyone know where the pictures of the founders are?" asked Neville.

"Well, Godric Gryffindor is near Gryffindor Tower," said Hermione.

"I know where Rowena Ravenclaw is," said Parvati. "I've seen it on my way to visit my sister."

"Why don't we just go to the library and find out about them," suggested Samara.

"That might be faster," agreed Hermione.

"Maybe, but then how will we find the class?" said Ron.

"Marauder's Map?" suggested Harry.

"That's cheating!" cried Hermione.

"Ok," said Ron. "Where is Rowena Ravenclaw's picture Parvati?"

She told them and as they started off, Samara asked, "Doesn't anyone know where Salazar Slytherin's and Helga Hufflepuff's pictures are? If we don't have them all, we should just go to the library, shouldn't we?"

"Maybe someone will think of where they saw them," said Hermione. But after they looked at the pictures of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, they still couldn't think of where Helga Hufflepuff or Salazar Slytherin was.

"Wouldn't Salazar Slytherin be in the dungeon and Helga Hufflepuff near Hufflepuff?" suggested Edward.

"Perhaps," said Lou, "but I think it's time for the library. We could be looking around the halls forever if we don't know where it is."

After that, everyone agreed that it was time to go to the library. "Should have gone to the library in the first place," mumbled Samara.

"We've only used up a third of the class time," said Edward sarcastically. "Don't worry."

"Who's worried?" Samara shot back.

"How about if I go to my room and get the map," said Harry, "while you start in the library. It will save time."

"Good idea," said Ron. "Hurry."

By the time Harry got back to the library, the group had split into two. The girls were looking for Helga Hufflepuff and the boys were looking for Salazar Slytherin.

"What does this little R mean?" asked Edward as he leafed through the card catalogue.

"No," said Harry, "not now. Let's see how the girls are doing with Helga."

Hermione, Samara, Beatrice, Eloise and Ginny had Hufflepuff books stacked up in front of them. They had at least six books each. Hermione had eight, but two of them were quite small.

"I don't know what this is," said Eloise. She was pointing to a page in one of the obscure little books. Hermione moved over to assist her.

"This might be important," Hermione read from the Olde English text and mentally translated before saying: "Helga Hufflepuff was rumored to be the only wizard in over three centuries who was adept at the Three-Part Copulare."

"So what's that?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "But copulare is definitely some sort of bonding."

"Sounds obscene if you ask me," said Ron.

The boys, with the exception of Lou, started to snigger.

"Well the three parts," said Hermione, taking notes as she read, "are: Purcurare Copulare, Validiere Copulare and Salium Copulare."

"They all mean healing or healthy," said Lou. "But I don't think they do the same thing. They have to each be different. Are they spells we could try?"

Hermione shrugged. "We could try them, but I doubt if they would work. It looks like they are talents of some kind. No one but Helga seems to be able to do them, even among the four founders."

"Look at these potions!" exclaimed Samara. "This one is seven pages long."

"What's it supposed to do?" asked Harry.

"Cure the Black Death." Samara turned it over to look for a publish date on the book. 1440. "Oh well," she said flippantly, "Too late for most of England."

"Soap and water would cure the Black Death too," said Hermione. "Or at least prevent it. We don't have time to waste on useless potions."

"Well, if we had come straight to the library instead of wondering around the halls--" snapped Samara.

"Girls," said Beatrice softly. "We definitely don't have time to argue. I think I've found something--"

Looking at the book Beatrice showed them, they finally decided that healing, especially with potions, was Helga's strong suit. She had dozens of recipes for minor remedies and some that looked strong enough to bring someone back from the brink of death. Few of the books had actual recipes, although some had long lists of ingredients and were cross-referenced with some ancient potions books. One of the recipes, Samara noted, was a potion to be fed to a weasel before it attacked a basilisk. It was supposed to enable the weasel to kill the basilisk.

"I'll bet that pissed off Salad Bar Slytherin to no end," Samara said.

"Salad!" Hermione said, bursting into laughter. She put both hand over her mouth as the librarian, Madam Pince, glared at them, but she couldn't seem to stop laughing. Harry and Ginny started to chuckle too.

"What's so funny?" asked Ron.

"Muggle joke. Salad Bar," Hermione squeaked. "Let's go before Madam Pince throws us out."

Madam Pince was heading their direction, looking like she was planning to do just that. They hurried out of the library, but every time Samara and Hermione looked at each other, they started laughing again.

"So where is Mrs. Figg?" whispered Ron as he looked over Harry's shoulder.

"Greenhouse," said Harry as he looked discreetly at the map, "but I don't see any of our class there. They seem to be spread out. Most of the Slytherins are in the dungeon.&r;

"Who cares where the Slytherins are?" said Ron. "Let's go."

"Mischief managed," said Harry and stuffed the map in his pocket before any of his classmates could get a good look at it.

"Hey," said Samara, "I didn't see the map. And how do you know Mrs. Figg is in the greenhouse?"

"It's a charmed map," said Harry, not taking it out again.

"Can I see it?" asked Edward.

"We're late," said Hermione.

When they got to the greenhouse, Mrs. Figg looked surprised to see them. She was helping Professor Sprout grind asphodel root into a powder.

"I'm not your Defense teacher," she said as she put down the mortar and pestle. A worried look was on her face. "Professor Snape is, but you've missed over half of your class. Doesn't the schedule tell you where the class is?"

"Snape," squeaked Ron. "We're dead."

"It does," said Hermione, "but we had a sort-of scavenger hunt."

The group turned around. "We need to run," said Harry.

"He can't take points away from us," Samara argued. "We were doing what we were supposed to do. We were looking up the founders..."

"Save your breath for running," said Harry.

"He loves these little riddles, doesn't he?" said Hermione. "Remember the potions poem in the Third Floor Corridor?"

"That-corridor-is-cursed," panted Ron.

At least it was all down hill and down stairs. Once they got to the dungeons, Harry had planned on opening the Marauder's Map again, but he didn't need it. The doorway diagonally across the hall from their old potion classroom was open and Snape was standing at it. The classroom was so silent that Harry thought they must have finished before the Slytherins, but he was wrong. The Slytherins were all silently working, frowns furrowed most of their brows, which did not bode well. Snape handed a parchment to each of the Gryffindors as they entered. "I trust you took your time looking at the pictures. You have less than fifteen minutes to finish this quiz."

"Quiz?" Ron breathed, holding the stitch in his side. "It's the first day. We can't have a quiz."

Beatrice brought up the rear, holding her books in one arm and her puffer in the other. She stopped just a few feet from the door and took a deep breath of the puffer. Snape scowled. "Don't waste any more of my time," snapped Snape. "Get in this classroom."

"Yes, sir," she said meekly. She took the parchment in her hand and tried to duck out of his sight in the back of the room. Harry could see that she failed to do that. Snape was looking at her with an expression of utter disgust, but at least he didn't take any points away for their lateness.

Harry applied himself to the quiz, which was impossibly hard. Questions like "What spells did Dumbledore use on Grindelwald and how do you know?" Harry wracked his brain. How could you tell what spell was used, when you couldn't hear a picture; you could only see it? At least he thought he got some of the Slytherin questions right. He remembered quite well the strengths of the basilisk, including their most dangerous feature: their eyes. The test asked: "If you could choose one animal to be with you to fight the basilisk, what would you choose?" Harry remembered reading something about a weasel, but he knew he wanted a phoenix with him. Even as he wrote it, he felt Snape would probably mark it wrong.

Questions about the weight and jewels and magic of Godric Gryffindor's sword seemed trivial and yet, Harry knew, if there was one thing about Snape he never asked trivial questions. He was sure that Snape would have a lot to say about how little the Gryffindors knew about Godric Gryffindor's sword. He had no idea what its dimensions were or what wood, if any, was in the pommel. Each of those questions was followed by the wicked little word Why? After a while, Harry wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. He heard at least Hermione got some of the answers right.

The first questions on Helga Hufflepuff were in French and the rest read like Snape's potions final. Harry remembered that he didn't have to take that final due to his being a champion in the Triwizard Tournament and therefore didn't study for it. To top it all off, he didn't have time to finish. He didn't answer a single question about Rowena Ravenclaw.

Snape collected the papers and glanced at them, no doubt noting the number of blank spaces. He shook his head at the class in general. "I had hoped that some of you would have learned something over the summer. If you continue to waste your time on pointless pursuits, or rush into action without preparation, you will be dead before next summer--or worse--"

He paused, his voice dropping to a brittle whisper. "I know some of you dislike me. Some of you perhaps hate me." His fathomless black eyes were on Harry. "And I promise you, that those of you who think you like me," his eyes glanced over at Malfoy, "will hate me before the end of the week. Probably you will want to kill me. Definitely you will want to curse me. This will be your hardest class. Guaranteed. But when the day comes and you are facing a werewolf, or a giant or--" he took a deep breath, "some other monster, you may be glad of something you learned here.

"Read the lesson on wards and protections before the next class--not that I expect any of you to be able to affect them." He paused and stared off into space for a moment, before continuing, "I'd assume that if you knew your life depended upon being prepared, you would make a little more effort at it. Class begins in this classroom tomorrow. Be on time. That is all"

Snape ignored the silent class as they filed out.

"I can't believe Gryffindor didn't lose a single point," Hermione crowed.

"My grade on that test was worse than a hundred points. I failed it miserably. I'll probably get a howler from Mom," Ron moaned.

"I didn't do very well either," said Ginny. "What was with the French questions? How can we be expected to answer if we don't even know the language?"

"Oh I knew that--" said Hermione.

"Well, you went to France," interrupted Ron.

"No, I didn't learn them in France," said Hermione. "It was ballet terms."

"Did you take ballet?" asked Samara. "So did I--"

"When I was six," said Hermione.

"Ballet," said Ron, "from Snape? What's wrong with him?"

"Snape looks really bad, doesn't he?" commented Ginny

"I don't remember him ever looking anything but bad," said Harry.

"No, I mean he looks sick or cursed," Ginny clarified.

"I didn't do it," laughed Ron, and they all joined in.

They headed across the hall to Potions.

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