Adrian Pucey: Gringotts Curse-Breaker

6 Sep 1996

Well, I'm in Mexico. It's amazing. I can't believe how hot it is here. There's just something about the place. It's so much more. The people are louder, and in the city they're forever hooting the horns on their cars. The streets are a bit stinky, but somehow they're more alive. The sunlight's brighter, the colours more vivid - I feel as though all my senses are on overdrive. If this is what travelling to another country feels like, I can't believe Bill willingly gave it all up to stay in Britain. All that rain and grey stone... Going back would feel like aging twenty years.

The Muggle archaeologists are friendly enough. Three of them met us at Heathrow airport. Apparently we'll meet up with another group of them out at the dig site. Harun says I've got to be careful not to let slip how many runes I can translate; Muggles are still struggling with a lot of ancient Middle and South American languages. He fits in fairly well here. He looks enough like the locals to be ignored by them. I'm besieged by small children and people wanting to sell me things before I've walked the length of the street.

I've sent Millicent a postcard, but it doesn't really say anything much. I just couldn't describe this place to her. I erased it and rewrote it a dozen times, but it's still not enough. She'll love the parrot who delivers it, though. This place would send her crazy.

As soon as he stepped from the cramped, unpleasant aeroplane Adrian felt buffeted by a wall of heat and humidity and near-blinded by sunlight. He'd never experienced anything like it, and slowed down. Harun impatiently grabbed his arm and marched him on. "Come on, no dawdling," he said eagerly. "There should be someone from the dig waiting for all of us, and we've got to collect our suitcases yet."

Adrian followed obediently, already half in love with the tropics. Millicent, and their first and only night together, had been on his mind throughout the 'plane flight, completely distacting him from the fact that Muggles had managed to make large chunks of metal fly without magic. He was still half-worried that he and Millicent had done the wrong thing, although Millicent had seemed convinced that the time was right, and on Saturday night he hadn't been about to argue. He wished he could talk to someone about it - not in a smutty, sniggering way, but to chat about his uncertainty - but there was no one to listen to him. Harun would be horrified if he knew, Adrian suspected.

**

For Millicent, the only thing that made this journey to Hogwarts any different from the one she usually took was the people she sat with. She met up with Eloise Midgen at the station. Eloise was quiet until they got on the train, and her mother looked purse-lipped and angry, but also rather drawn. Millicent, remembering how awful she'd been to her own mother until it was almost too late, hoped that Eloise hadn't fought with her parents. There had been news of another missing wizard in the Daily Prophet. Who knew which family would be next to be bereaved?

They pushed their way past the smaller pupils, Eloise following closely behind her tall, bulky friend, and grabbed a prime carriage for themselves. Millicent was about to ask how Eloise's summer had gone, when Eloise burst out disconsolately, "You have no idea how hard it was to persuade my parents to let me come back this term!"

Millicent was surprised. "To Hogwarts? Hogwarts is the safest place to be, surely."

Eloise scowled. "Not with Harry Potter there, apparently. Dad thinks he's going to attract too much attention. My parents are considering emigrating. Mum's becoming a nervous wreck again now the Death Eaters are active. We've got a holiday home down in the Languedoc. Dad says we can rent our home here to Muggles and move to France. He's talking about transferring me to Beauxbatons."

Millicent's jaw dropped. "But you'd have to speak French!"

"I can do that - we go there every summer and most Easters, don't we? But I'm a Hufflepuff. I'll always be a Hufflepuff." Eloise tightened her yellow-and-black scarf around her neck. "I don't want to be anything else."

The Hufflepuffs' sense of loyalty to one another was a bit of a joke in Slytherin. They'd admit that it was worthwhile associating with other Gryffindors, if one could not avoid them, as at least Gryffindors showed some daring and personality. Ravenclaws would always be useful for their knowledge. Hufflepuffs, though, seemed to possess very little that most Slytherins would consider worthwhile. Millicent pondered this. She had a secret liking for Hufflepuffs. The Gryffindors disliked her on principle, as she'd been Draco's friend for years, and she wasn't bright enough to interest most Ravenclaws. Eloise took her as she was, and if that was a Hufflepuff trait, Millicent was happy with it. "I don't think I'll ever be a Slytherin," she sighed. "Not really."

"You showed your determination last term," Eloise assured her. "Um, I heard you were friends with Pansy again..." Eloise looked displeased.

Millicent nodded. "She's having a rough time," she replied. "You're not the only one who fell out with your family over the summer."

Their conversation faltered as a handful of other Hufflepuffs opened the carriage door, then looked at Millicent sitting with Eloise. Several of them looked disapproving. "Hello Susan,' Millicent said. "I'm sorry to hear about your aunt."

Susan Bones, who had been about to go and look for another carriage to avoid sitting with a Slytherin, changed her mind and took a seat. Hannah Abbot, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan followed her. "Thank you, Millicent," Susan said politely. The Hufflepuffs all knew about, and were slightly baffled by, Eloise's friendship with the ugly Slytherin. None of them quite knew what to make of her. Most things about her seemed contradictory.

Looking at Susan's face, which, like so many witches' and wizards' faces nowadays, seemed paler and thinner than in happier times, Millicent took a deep breath. Susan's aunt had been murdered, she knew, and she felt she had to say something. "I lost my mum last year. If you ever want to talk about, um, missing someone, I'm happy to talk." She quickly looked out of the window so she couldn't see their expressions, hoping that Susan wouldn't refuse her too harshly.

To her surprise, Susan replied, "I'd like that, if it's not too painful for you... I haven't wanted to discuss it with my parents as they're upset enough."

Millicent's startled smile met Susan's grateful one, and later that evening, listening to the Sorting Hat's plea for unity, Millicent decided she was upholding the Hogwarts spirit far better now than she ever had as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.

Pansy hadn't wanted to talk to Millicent at King's Cross. At dinner she, Draco, Theodore and the other pure-blood pupils with Death Eater connections had banded together at one end of the dining table. Millicent didn't exactly mind. Now she could see past Blaise's handsome looks she quite disliked him, and she didn't want to sit near him, although she was bothered by the way Draco and Pansy seemed to be ignoring her once more now they had other friends to talk to. Perhaps Adrian was right after all, and Draco and Pansy were simply using her.

Millicent observed Harry Potter's late arrival and watched Draco miming something. She guessed that Draco had done something to Potter; the Gryffindor was spattered with blood. Potter was moving quite freely, so she guessed no real harm had been done. If the stories in the Daily Prophet over the summer were to be believed, Harry would have worse than Draco to deal with in future.

Several of the younger, less-well connected Slytherins had chosen to sit with Millicent even though there were vacant seats along the table, and called the new Slytherins across to them. One tiny boy was in floods of tears. "Hey," Tracey Davis called softly to him, "It's not that bad at Hogwarts. Do you miss your family?"

The child glared at her. "I can't believe," he sniffled, "That I'm in Slytherin. That makes me like them. Like You-Know-Who!"

"No, it doesn't," Tracey said firmly. "We're put here by the Sorting Hat. You don't sign up to be in Slytherin. You're here because you've got determination and can get things done, not because you've joined some stupid club for inbreds scared of new blood. I'd never be a Death Eater. I'm a half-blood!" Tracey declared.

Pansy's voice rang down the table, "Davis, will you please stop bringing the image of the house down? There's no need to boast about your deficiencies. Honestly, that girl..."

"I'm a half-blood too," Millicent told the new students. "Being in Slytherin means being strong enough to be your own person. You don't have to join any group you don't want to."

The little boy gave her a faint smile, but didn't seem completely reassured.

"I like you, Millicent," a quiet second-year girl said. Millicent nearly choked on her mash.

She didn't really think much of it until later, being preoccupied with Pansy's latest change of heart about their friendship. As she fell asleep, looking forward to the following day's Care of Magical Creatures lesson, she realised that apart from when she'd fed all the cats in the house pets' room she'd never been left alone. In fact, the second year girl had seemed to walk in her shadow almost the entire evening. It baffled her rather. She'd never been popular.

Pansy was still ignoring her at breakfast. Daphne Greengrass was so firmly excluded from Pansy and Draco's little coterie that she sat by Millicent and said, "Parkinson is insufferable this term! What's their little secret anyway?"

Millicent just stuffed her mouth full and didn't answer. Whatever Pansy thought of her, Millicent wasn't about to start badmouthing her to Daphne. Daphne was still casting longing glances at Draco. The jugs of orange juice made Millicent wonder how Adrian was getting on in Mexico. She hoped to hear from him soon. Happily, she had her favourite lesson that day, which made her miss him a little less.

**

The weather was good, but the mood at that first Care of Magical Creatures lesson was awful. Professor Hagrid stood next to the hut where he lived, face downcast. He and Millicent had been standing there for quarter of an hour already.

"I think you can begin the lesson, Sir," she ventured, bored of watching a bumblebee buzzing over the clover patch. Where were Potter, Weasley and Granger? While she wasn't keen on spending her lessons with the three of them, smug know-it-all Granger in particular, she couldn't understand why they weren't in the lesson. She'd often thought they were the only other people who'd enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures, vociferous as they had been in its defence. She'd already steeled herself for a year of being ignored and overlooked by them - and she'd expected that Professor Hagrid would forget her as easily as the Gryffindor trio, who he favoured outrageously.

Hagrid stared fixedly at the castle doors. "Don' be hasty, Bulstrode," he said. "We'll jus' wait for the rest of the class ter get here." He pulled on his untidy hair and patted down his hairy coat as though expecting more pupils to fall out from a fold.

Fifteen minutes later Millicent sat down on the grass. Hagrid didn't seem to notice or care. "Sir," she said, "while we wait for the others, do you know anything about quetzals?"

Hagrid scratched his beard. "Quetzals or quetzalcoatls?" he asked, thoughtfully. "I s'pose we can talk about 'em while we wait."

"Just quetzals, I think. What are the other things?"

"Well, quetzals are birds, see? Pretty ones, all sorts o' colours. The most famous sort is a right pretty thing, all red and green with a great long tail. In some countries Muggles prize 'em. Quetzalcoatls, though, they're a sort of dragon. Limbless, like a European wyrm, but with the most amazin' feathers, red an' green too. When wizards first found 'em, they thought the dragons hatched from the birds' eggs. Din' know the difference."

Millicent sighed. "I'd love to see a dragon!"

Hagrid smiled weakly. "At least I've got one student who wants ter learn about interestin' creatures... I s'pose the other students must've muddled up their timetables." He looked bereft at the lack of his favourite students.

"What can you use quetzals for?" Millicent asked eagerly, hoping to distract his attention.

"Not sure," Hagrid confessed. "Yer want ter ask yer other teachers about that. Professor Slughorn, he'd know. An' Professor Dumbledore, o' course."

Millicent was about to ask something else when a beautiful blue hyacinth macaw soared through the sky and landed on Hagrid's roof. It dropped a postcard onto Millicent's head. She snatched it up and pocketed it. Hagrid ignored the postcard and walked over to the bird. "Yer've got friends in exotic places, Bulstrode," he said. "I don't suppose they'd... nah. Course not."

"What, sir?"

Hagrid's eyes gleamed amid his tangled hair. "Well, if they found an immature quetzalcoatl, or an abandoned egg..."

"Isn't that illegal?" Millicent was shocked that a teacher would suggest something as dangerous and illegal as keeping a dragon - although it was something she sometimes daydreamed about herself.

Hagrid just looked more crestfallen than ever, and kept looking over towards the school as he began his lesson on caring for Thestrals. This term Millicent's lessons would be devoted to one type of creature alone, learning in-depth about its behaviour and possible ailments. Millicent wished he'd chosen an animal that she could actually see.

**

Three days into digging at the archaeological site, Adrian thought he was getting the hang of masquerading as a Muggle, although he wished he'd taken Muggle Studies as it would've been useful. He'd have spent his school career retrieving his books from the lake or the lavatories, because Muggle Studies was seen as admitting to being a Blood Traitor in Slytherin, but at least he'd have known how to work a camping gas stove. (Happily Harun had been on hand to stop it exploding.) Harun had warned Adrian to act shy so the Muggles wouldn't ask him too many probing questions. Adrian lacked the familiarity with Muggle ways that would enable him to chat casually to the archaeologists. The only thing he could do convincingly was dig.

"When do we go for the tomb?" Adrian whispered to Harun as they used little brushes to clear away soil. They were working on a ruined piece of wall. Only the bottom few feet remained, and the stones had been buried for centuries. None of the Muggle archaeologists thought it was likely to be anything interesting, so the two disguised wizards had it all to themselves.

"We need to pinpoint its exact location first," Harun replied, using a sneaky charm to remove an extra inch of dirt.

"Won't it be at the heart of the complex?" Adrian asked him. He slapped at a buzzing insect.

"The treasure probably will be, but it'll almost certainly be destroyed if anyone tries to take it by digging down into it. Usually with this sort of thing there's an entry point somewhere on the perimeter, followed by a sequence of puzzles. This site is odd, though. The first few inscriptions anyone translated suggested it had two entry points, with tests that had to be completed by two people simultaneously."

In the evenings all the archaeologists ate together, chatted and did various things. A few of them had a chess league going; the figures didn't move but the rules were the same. Some played bizarre games involving balls and what looked like a Beater's bat, plus a very large glove. Like so much in the Muggle world, balls didn't move unless a person moved them. Adrian couldn't get his head around how static everything was. Photos didn't move, balls didn't move, chess pieces really were just lumps of wood or plastic. That was another thing! How much plastic Muggles used! Adrian sometimes felt as though their whole world was synthetic. He'd spent three days immersed in the Muggle world and he didn't like it very much.

He brushed way some more dirt from a stone. "Harun!" Adrian said excitedly. "Look, there are carvings here."

"Copy them down," Harun ordered. "We'll go through them after dinner tonight."

As Adrian noted down the shapes, leaving gaps where he couldn't quite identify some symbols, he was able to spot the names of various deities and references to gold. This was their first clue! He felt quite excited. If it pointed them at the tomb, they might be able to break into it within the week and be back in Britain, heroes, within the month. Adrian imagined the proud faces of his parents, Millicent's beaming smile... and then the Dementor-induced mists, the deaths of people in positions of power at the Ministry, the fact that the Death Eaters were free and gaining followers.

Adrian set down his pencil, which he was having to use instead of a quill. He wasn't sure he wanted to break the tomb yet. He could ask Harun to let Millicent come out here in the holidays, where she'd be safe. She could pretend to be a university student; her size made her look older than she was.

"Jaguar," Harun pointed out while Adrian was lost in thought.

"Eh?"

"The rune you're stuck on." Harun tapped the rock. "It's a jaguar."

"Oh yeah. Thanks." Adrian went back to copying down the runes.

**

Towards the end of the week, a tired-looking barn owl delivered a letter to Adrian. Harun had hurriedly picked the bird up under one arm and carried it off into the jungle where the Muggle archaeologists couldn't see it. As he did, the whistle was blown for break, so all the diggers stopped working and met up in the main work area. Adrian helped himself to a bottle of mineral water and began reading Millicent's note.

Dear Adrian,

It's all change here. Where should I begin? Professor Snape, I guess. He's finally got the job he always wanted, and if he was creepy before, he's really quite scary now. I know Montague always reckoned Snape was gay because he was so nice to Draco, but it looks as though the Dark Arts are Snape's one true love. To hear him talk about it, you'd think it was a person or a treasure...

"Hello."

Adrian looked up from the parchment. One of the other diggers, a slender, brown-skinned American girl, was talking to him.

"Um, hi," he began. Harun still hadn't come back from the jungle. He wasn't sure what to say. The girl might realise there was something different about him. All the same, he was desperate for a friend out here, someone other than Harun to talk to and laugh with.

She smiled. "I'm Maria. Maria Hernandez."

Adrian rubbed his nose in confusion. "Oh. Ah. I'm Adrian! Adrian Pucey," he blurted. "From England."

"You're one of the inscription specialists, aren't you?" Maria asked, taking her sunhat off and fanning herself with it.

"Well, that's Harun," Adrian said. "He's the one who really knows how to translate them. I'm just learning."

"It's still pretty impressive," Maria said. "D'you want to come and get a Coke? You could show me what you've found while we're on break."

Adrian shoved the letter from Millicent, mostly unread, in his pocket. He could read it later.