Harry Potter and the Shadows of the Watchgate

---------------------------------------------------
-*~| CHAPTER 23 - Getting a Clue |~*-
---------------------------------------------------

Harry had been contemplating many things while sitting on his favorite windowsill of his room, alone in the dark. He had extinguished every torchlight and candle as soon as he had entered his room, after excusing himself from his friends.

The reason was not only the unique class of Defense Against the Dark Arts but the message that he had heard in a whisper from the creature that they had studied.

You are in danger...

He remembered how many times he had heard such warnings in his past. It was Hagrid in his first year at Hogwarts, Dobby in second year, Mr. Weasley in third year, Crouch Junior himself in fourth year and the whole Order in the fifth year. He had gotten so used to being threatened that it really didn't ring any panic bells at all.

And without even realizing it, he started going through the events of the last few hours in his mind, as innumerable neurons in his brain huddled together for another closer look.

It had been their first ever class that was scheduled after sundown and as they found out, it was for a reason. The suspense was almost killing the sixth years when they were all led by Professor Vidal towards a bonfire near the Forbidden Forest.

Professor Vidal had smiled knowingly at them after nearing the bonfire. He had opened his arms in a welcome gesture and introduced them to three Vampires, who had swept into view so suddenly that many girls shrieked in alarm.

They all wore dark velvet robes and had similar pale faces. Their eyes shown in the night like glowing ambers. Their every step was silent and foreboding.

Harry could sense Ron's trepidation and Hermione's nerves but even then, there was only fascination when he looked on the legendary creatures known as the undead, the night dueling Vampires.

Professor Vidal introduced them as David, Marak and Gerald. The Vampires only nodded at the general direction of students and then stared at Vidal with interest.

Professor Vidal described their characteristics of blood hunger and invincibility, completely undaunted by their stares, as if used to them. However, Harry was curiously able to observe that one of his temples was ticking, which Harry guessed to be due to suppressing some kind of emotion. What emotion exactly, he couldn't tell, because except for that tic, everything about the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor seemed normal.

Harry scrutinized each and every feature of the Vampires staring unabashedly at them. Actually, two of them were playing the staring-game, whereas the one in the middle was simply staring at everything but the students. Two of the three had blonde hair while the middle one, presumably the leader, possessed long black hair. The clothes beneath their cloaks along with their extra frills looked eighteenth century to the hilt.

Harry noticed a black gleaming stain on the cloak of the one on the right named David, and stared at it curiously. His gaze was met by the square-jawed blonde quite beguilingly. David opened his mouth, giving Harry full view of his tiny but visible fangs. He ran his tongue over the fangs lovingly in a come-on gesture. Harry could almost see the same gesture done by a frog after spotting a particularly juicy fly. Harry took a step back in disgust as he understood what the stain was--it had to be the only thing they gorged upon: blood.

David laughed giddily and whispered something in the ear of Marak, who in turn glared at him sternly, which shut him quite eloquently up.

Harry was trying to tune in to Vidal's voice when his mind heard a whisper so close that if it hadn't been a male voice, he could have sworn it was Hermione. He shook his head and looked at Ron, who was trying to jot Vidal's points on a parchment, but was having difficulty, like others, in balancing his Lumos-ed wand and the quill for writing on the hovering parchment in front of him.

"You seem to wilt beneath a heavy burden, little one."

This time the voice was clearer but still somehow contained some whispering properties he couldn't lay his finger on.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked Hermione, who was busily scribbling away on her hovering parchment, as if she had been trained for it since she took her first breath.

"Yes. The first Vampire had Slavic-Hungarian origin and is known as Count Vlad Drakul."

Harry blinked at her perplexingly and then sighed wearily. So hallucinations were not enough for him. He was now hearing voices as well!

Something clicked in his mind as he looked about the ground around him. He was a Parselmouth after all, so may be he had heard some secret conversation between two snakes. Yeah! That could be it! Harry thought hopefully.

A slow but throaty laughter wrung in his ears and Harry couldn't do anything but become more and more baffled. He looked around himself, trying to find the source of the laugher but no one was laughing! Everyone was busily scribbling away while Professor Vidal launched into an old Vampiric tale.

The Vampires! Harry's mind almost screamed.

Harry looked straight at them and found Marak staring at him, his eyes reflecting the bonfire's sultry flames.

"Caught on, didn't you?"

It was Marak alright. But his lips weren't moving and his eyes seemed to be doing the talking inside Harry's head.

How can he do that! Harry thought, bewildered at the situation.

"I can do a lot more," the eyes almost seemed to smile at him.

Suddenly Harry realized that this could be a trap. He guarded his mind as if practicing Occlumency. He started to empty his mind of all thoughts when he heard the faint but audible voice of Marak.

"Don't do that, little one. I mean no harm. I only want--no, need to talk to you." These words were spoken boldly but possessed a hint of pleading. If he was being tricked, Harry couldn't tell, as the voice didn't sound malicious even with the mysterious catch to it.

Harry had taken almost ten minutes to make-up his mind, while staring directly at Marak but with all the guards up inside his own mind. Marak, in turn only looked back matching his stare.

Nobody else got the inkling that there was something weird going on between the Boy-Who-Lived and an ancient Vampire. Vidal went on with his story while the students went on with their scribbling.

Harry didn't know that this was his new ability or simply the ability of Marak to infiltrate others' minds. In the least he had some consolation in the fact that he could have blocked the intrusion if he wanted to.

What do you want to tell me? Harry thought, looking directly at Marak.

"Your life is in danger."

Harry almost wanted to laugh out loud. Been there, done that. Anything else you might want to add? There was more than sarcasm in Harry's thought; there was an underlying pain that bled through his every word.

"This is like never before, little one. What is about to happen now is more than you ever bargained for." The bonfire flames danced across his face as if delighted with every invisibly spoken word exchanged between them.

What do you mean?

"You will come to know of it in time. However, all I can tell you now is to never forget your way; always leave a trail to come back to. Never forget who you are and--"

At that instant another voice had interrupted them. Somehow Professor Vidal had sensed their exchange and was able to communicate with Marak in the same manner as Marak had done with Harry. He was only able to hear an angry curse in a different language and then silence followed.

Harry started scribbling gibberish on his parchment and stole glances towards Vidal and Marak. But even after knowing that there was a conversation going on between them, he wasn't able to hear a single syllable.

He couldn't tell if Vidal knew about what was said to him or why he was so livid after exchanging many glares with Marak. The Vampires had slinked off into the darkness of the trees after that, as if performing a vanishing act.

Many students gasped in surprise with their sudden disappearance but Professor Vidal filled the awkward departure as the sign for the class getting over. He eyed them all suspiciously, speculating on who had been communicating with the ancient Vampire. Harry centered his attention on Ron and Hermione who had somehow found another excuse to bicker even during such a serious class. Harry nodded his head as if trying to console Ron, not even aware of the reason why they were bickering. He looked at everything else but Professor Vidal while making his way towards the Entrance Hall with his class mates.

Harry found Neville questioning Vidal about the fangs of the Vampires and was surprised to see him lose his temper, as he admonished Neville for not paying attention in the class. Many of the student's attention had diverted towards Vidal as well and Harry got a clear view to deduce Vidal's mood. This was the first time that Vidal had scolded a student and Neville at that, who had worked real hard this term. Neville had turned the color of a beetroot while Vidal looked completely distracted. He had spun on his heels and made for his office, deep in thought, while Neville had made for the Library, not joining the rest of the Gryffindors to the common room.

Harry wasn't able to make up his mind about why Vidal was so upset. This was the first time that he had acted quite suspiciously. Harry knew that the Defense Against the Dark Arts job had always been jinxed. Whoever took the job had one problem or another. Having Voldemort sticking from the back of one's head or being a horrible self-centered, toady teacher was one thing, but a person who went from good to guarded behavior was never a good omen. He had trusted Crouch Junior as Moody and if it hadn't been for Dumbledore's foresight, he might have just been killed in his fourth year.

This brought him back to the current question in his mind. What to make of the Vampire's warning? And could he trust someone who was himself shrouded in the velvety folds of mystery? Not this time. He would be more careful and practice Occlumency hard so that nobody could infiltrate his mind--Vampire or not--even when that someone wanted to help, which he was very doubtful of.

Help from a Vampire. Yeah, right! They were known to be cunning and insatiable. How could he trust someone he didn't even know? In danger indeed and a new kind at that! He sighed derisively.

Shrugging noncommittally, Harry started preparing for bed.

Ron burst into the room just then, grumbling under his breath, "--she knows everything... Miss Pain-In-The-Bum!"

"What's the matter, Ron?" Harry inquired.

Somehow, he already knew the answer to that question. He had lived through, and spent numerous days, hearing the stifled bickering between his two best friends. Ron and Hermione's usual and unending squabbles could sprout from a single word or even a glare--their arguments were like worms in a can, waiting to get out.

"Can you believe Hermione has hid my Wizard's Chess board, so that I can't play and have to study?" Ron said incredulously.

Typical, Harry thought, not even letting a flicker of the smile which was bubbling inside him escape.

"I had been looking forward to beating Seamus today--"

"Again?" Harry interrupted raising an eyebrow.

"That's beside the point, Harry! I was looking forward to some fun, not to stare at her ginger fur-ball prancing around my legs when she announced in front of the whole bloody common room exactly why she had confiscated my Chess board!"

"You could have used Dean's set," Harry supplied, playing along the 'higher authority' in the little game of bickering between Ron and Hermione.

"But it's not my set! I don't feel comfortable playing with other pieces. Those stupid midgets don't follow my command," he said huffily.

"She's always bossing everyone around. Really, what that girl needs is a good hard spanking on that--" Ron faltered in his blowing-off-steam, as he gulped for air looking at the meaningful look plastered on Harry's face.

"What?" Ron inquired, narrowing his eyes.

"Everyone knows it. Now it's time for you to spill it out."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Ron feigned ignorance.

Harry groaned audibly and made his way to Ron's bedside table. Ron looked on wide-eyed as Harry started breaking many locking charms on the bottom drawer.

"Hey!" Ron protested. But Harry threw his hands up to shut him up, while sitting on Ron's bed.

Ron slumped on the nearest chair dejectedly, while Harry rummaged through Ron's drawer. "I have some right to privacy you know," Ron said, trying the last resort to stop his friend from confronting him.

"Yeah right! Like I would stop with that," Harry flashed him a grin as Ron looked at him queasily.

"It is time for you, Ronald Weasley, to look at the facts," Harry announced bringing out the paraphernalia of items from the drawer in question, putting them on the table near which Ron was already sitting.

Ron sighed glumly as Harry grabbed the first item: a wood splinter.

"Looks familiar to you?" Harry asked significantly, as Ron tousled his fringe in an irritated manner.

"Looks like you are better informed!" Ron retorted, totally piqued.

"Let me present you with the first proof, Milord," Harry shrugged at an invisible coat as he tried his best to strut around Ron along his cane.

"A splinter from the club of a troll and no weeny troll at that: a Mountain Troll! The proof of Ron Weasley's valiant and brave attempt at saving a damsel in distress in a girl's bathroom!" Harry was extremely enjoying this fake-court game. All thoughts of danger and Vampire warnings slipped from his mind as he realized that he might cause a breakthrough if he was able to make Ron confess his feelings to Hermione once and for all.

Ron grimaced and said, "I wasn't alone! You saved her as much as I did."

"But I'm not the one who saved a splinter from a mountain troll's club in my locked and loaded drawer." Harry stared at him meaningfully.

Ron bristled but didn't say anything as the second item was spread straight on the table.

"Second evidence," Harry waved the highly weathered page torn from a book, in front of Ron. "I don't think you are so much interested in basilisks that you've kept this page describing their characteristics.... But it might be here because Hermione was clutching this page in our second year as if her life depended on it. Tom Riddle was prancing around Hogwarts with his slithering friend, remember?"

Ron stared at the word 'pipes' written by Hermione on the torn page and almost went back in time to recall the utter shock that he had felt when he had seen Hermione's stiff and statue-like figure in the Infirmary. He heard half of what Harry was saying, while continuing his list of evidences.

"Third proof," said Harry, unfastening a plastic bag, the content of which spilled out on the table. It was an assortment of candy wrappers: Chocolate Frogs, Every Flavor Beans and various Strawberry Twister wrappers.

Ron raised his eyebrows and glowered at him. "So, haven't taken out the trash. Big deal!"

Harry only smiled and answered, "It is a big deal, mate! These are not the wrappers of the toffees you ate. Honestly, if all the things that you've eaten by now are piled up, it might just about fill the Chamber of Secrets to the brim."

Harry smiled coyly as he continued over a bristling Ron, "So, tell me Ron. From when have you started eating Strawberry Twisters?" Harry asked beguilingly, raising an eyebrow.

Ron started to stutter when Harry filled his unsaid words, "Strawberry Twisters are Hermione's favorite sweet. Admit it, Ron! You've been collecting her wrappers. What more do you want me to reveal?"

"Harry, you are nuts!" Ron tried his best to evade the ongoing tirade.

Harry rolled his eyes totally annoyed at his friend's denial. He pointed at different items on the table and spilled their real identity. "Krum's action-figure's head ... S.P.E.W badge ... her scarf ... her broken quills!!! What more proof do you want, Ron? Who would save all this rubbish if that particular person didn't like the person whose memorabilia he's collecting?"

Ron covered his face with his hands and groaned to Merlin. Was all this so obvious? he thought to himself, as he wiped his brow and slumped deeper into the chair. He looked at the array of items rudely but visibly spread before him. The truth was out in the open and he didn't have any choice but to share it with his best mate. A thing he reckoned, he should have done long time ago.

"Bloody Hell," said Ron halfheartedly.

Harry folded his hands while finally settling down on his four-poster and stared resolutely at Ron, giving him full reign to speak.

Ron, after looking at everything but Harry and not meeting his eyes, finally gave up and opened his mouth to speak. "You are right Rowena Ravenclaw. It's true that I have feelings for Hermione but I don't reckon it's likewise." He sighed miserably and tousled his fringe.

"How do you know?" Harry asked. He had his own reasons to believe that Hermione knew about Ron's feelings.

"I just know. She still writes to Krum... I'm nowhere in her life," Ron finished dejectedly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "She's with you... what was that?" Harry scratched his head as if looking for an answer and burst out, "Every Day! Krum's just her friend and I reckon that's all there is to it."

"Yeah right! And I'm the richest wizard in history!"

"Oh c'mon, Ron, do you honestly believe that Hermione fancies Krum?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Dunno..." Ron faltered, as a trace of hope lifted his heart.

"Unless you tell her, you can never be sure. How much longer do you want to wait, mate?" Harry asked, sounding as concerned as he felt.

"Not forever, I guess?" Ron looked lost in thought, as he started rubbing his chin in concentration. "But, I can't tell her! It would be the end of our friendship if she says no. I don't reckon I can ever face her again."

"And you reckon you'll be able to face her everyday, when you know in your heart that you two could have been more than friends? Because, more than a possibility exists, Ron," Harry rationalized. "Take the example of my father for, Godric's sake! He blurted his feelings to my mother in their seventh year. He pretended not to like her and was a total dolt," Harry screwed up his face, remembering the memory from the Pensieve, "before confessing his feelings."

Ron perked up as Harry continued his lecture. "But when he finally confessed, Mum said yes, didn't she? Their love is the stuff of legend now..." he paused, musing over that particular fact and his journey to his parents' past. Whatever really did happen, he knew for a fact that Lily and James truly loved each other and nobody could prove otherwise. Everybody he knew could swear by it and now thinking about it, he almost felt stupid to get upset over the Snape incident in the memory. Lily didn't hate James then, it was his immaturity that annoyed her.

At that time, his parents were young, just like Hermione and Ron were now. The cat-and-rat incident of their third year when both of his best friends were at each other's throat all the time zoomed past his mind. Not to mention the jealousy they both showed to Krum and Fleur respectively in their fourth year. More than a possibility existed that both of his best friends could hit it off.

"Ron, you have to tell her how you feel, or you might just as well have to spend the rest of your life thinking: what if?"

Ron gulped, as if trying to swallow a huge bite. He was gripping the arms of the chair as though they were his life-support and looked at Harry's encouraging face. His funny grin reminded him of the one he always gave him when the Quaffle was in his scoring area and it was evident that he was going to block it.

It's now or never! Ron thought determinedly.

When Harry saw Ron finally stand up firmly, he could very easily guess that Ron had won the battle with his heart. It didn't seem appropriate to ruin this moment with some asinine comment, so he simply thumped Ron's shoulder lightly and showed a thumbs-up sign.

Ron nodded and went straight for the stairs, not looking back. Harry stared at the retreating figure of his friend and felt a lingering but almost tangible emotion in the air.

Finally having a breakthrough in some respect, Harry felt almost ready to move on. And for some reason, he could only imagine Ginny's face at this time.

~*~