Essence of Honeysuckle

"Essence of Honeysuckle"

by Paracelsus

Johann Vandegroote sighed wearily as he carefully levitated yet another shard of broken glass into the waste bin. It had been, what, seven months? Seven months since disaster had struck the Department of Mysteries. Seven months since a band of Death Eaters had invaded these normally quiet rooms, luring a handful of schoolchildren into a trap. Seven months since shelf after shelf of irreplaceable prophecy spheres were smashed beyond repair.

Seven months of the most painstaking clean-up imaginable, as each sliver of glass was individually inspected, sorted, and usually discarded... all without being touched by human hands.

None outside the Unspeakables knew the truth about these glowing glass globes. To simply call them "recordings" of prophecies was to completely miss the point... and to ignore the work of the great Doctor Dee, who'd set up the current storage system in 1582. Each of the glass spheres contained, not only the spoken words of its particular prophecy - the only part a human could hear - but the entangled timelines of causality: the what-ifs and if-thens, the might-have-beens and may-yet-bes that the prophecy interpreted.

Which is why He Who Must Not Be Named wanted his own globe, intact, thought Vandegroote. To see if he could untangle the timelines and find one where he'd be certain to win in the end. And it's why only those who are mentioned in the prophecies can handle their globes: Only they could have contact with their own timelines without going mad.

And even though the globes are shattered now and the timelines collapsed, I'm not about to take any chances.

He levitated another shard, using the special wand created by Dee for the purpose - a wand that, somehow, existed in all possible timelines and so insulated its user from the globes' effects. The wand was unique, known only to a few Unspeakables: it was how they could put the globes on their shelves in the first place.

Other Unspeakables were still cleaning up in the Time Room; repairs in the Space Room were nearly complete. He'd have liked some help with cleaning up the Prophecy Room. But it was essential that it be done right, which rather limited the number of Unspeakables capable of doing it. Vandegroote, at least, could be trusted to leave no splinter uncollected.

He made a final sweep along the section of floor next to Row 6... one of the oldest rows of shelves, its globes now smashed like the others. A flick of the wand made sure there were no trace fragments still left lying...

Hello. That was odd.

The bottom shelf on that row didn't hold glass globes. It held... glass boxes. Vandegroote crouched down for a better look. A dozen glass caskets, the edges sealed in lead strips, covered in dust but quite delicate and lovely.

Whatever they were, they didn't contain prophecies. There was no light from within them, as the globes had. Perhaps they were prototypes for the globes? They certainly looked old enough. He leaned closer... there were cabalistic signs graved into the lead. Cautiously, Vandegroote stretched out a finger and lightly brushed the dust off the edges of one of the caskets.

He heard a tiny k-k-k sound and snatched his hand away. The glass caskets must be very delicate, if the heat from his hand was enough to damage this one. Had he badly damaged it? He hoped not, it was so lovely... He leaned closer still and looked carefully. There was a hairline fracture in the lid... it must have been stressed when all the shelves around it had toppled, and his touch had disturbed it. That was all.

No, not quite all. There was a faint scent, subtle and sweet, like honeysuckle. It tickled a memory, something Vandegroote had once studied, but for the moment he couldn't recall where he'd read it...

"Johann? What is it?"

He looked over his shoulder in surprise, not only that someone had come to the Prophecy Room but by who had come. "Miss Clearwater? I thought you were helping with the Time Room clean-up." Penelope Clearwater was the newest addition to the Department of Mysteries: though she didn't work with the prophecies, Vandegroote had seen her around. Though young, she'd already proven herself capable and intelligent. Attractive, too, though Vandegroote tried not to notice that...

"We've finally gotten an asymptotic brake on the cabinet... we can't go further until it slows down enough for the next step. I thought you might want some help." She crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder for balance. "What are those? They don't look like prophecies."

"I don't know... I've never seen them before. From the looks of them, they've been here since the Room was, ummm... was built..." His voice stumbled as he felt her hand begin to knead his shoulder.

"Really? Well then, the Department's founding records should have something to say about them." Clearwater spoke in her usual professional tone, but now she had both her hands on his shoulders, massaging his muscles. Vandegroote was finding it more and more difficult to think about the glass caskets.

"Mmmm... How long have you been working down here, Johann? You're very tense." Her hands had moved to his lower back, finding aching muscles and kneading them wonderfully. "You can't spend all your time cleaning up glass - all work and no play, Johann? You need to relax more often."

Resolutely, Vandegroote reminded himself that they were co-workers, nothing more. "I have to finish this... after all, I'm the best person to do it, Miss Clearwater," he started to say, standing from his crouch and turning to face her.

"Penny," she amended. She'd stood along with him and hadn't backed away. As a result, they were standing so close that Vandegroote could see every eyelash, every dimple, every perfect facial feature...

He cleared his throat nervously. "Erm. Yes, er, well... anyway, I'll be able to relax when I'm done."

She smiled impishly. "I can help."

"Thank you, Pen... I mean, Miss Clear... that is, this takes some special expertise..." He stopped talking as she placed a finger on his lips.

"Silly," she said softly, and there was an amused note to her voice, "I wasn't talking about the glass." She removed her finger from his lips just before brushing them with her own. "Johann..." she breathed.

I'm a married man, was Vandegroote's last rational thought. I'm old enough to be her grandfather! Then rational thought was shoved aside as a flood of lust thundered through his brain and down into the rest of his body. His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her towards him, as he kissed her long and hard, painfully hard.

And she was kissing him back, on the mouth, on the neck, passionately, insistently... Her hands were on his trousers, unfastening them, as his hands moved from her shoulders and wandered lower. Within seconds he had her on the stone floor, his robes parted, hers pushed up to her waist. She smiled again and spread her legs, and he needed no further invitation.

Her scent was intoxication and sweet womanhood... her body was softness and wonderful warmth. Vandegroote lost himself in the animal pleasure of the act. When he finally realized his life was ebbing away with each thrust into her body, he was beyond caring.

*

Free! After over four centuries of prison, she was FREE!

Disentangling herself from Johann's lifeless form, she got to her feet and stepped over to the shelf with the glass caskets. Reaching down, she picked up the one that had been her prison cell. She took a moment to admire its delicate elegance before crushing it to powder in her hands. She made especially certain that the lead strips engraved with her true name were mangled into illegibility.

Let them try to recapture her without her name! Only John Dee had known that secret, and John Dee was long dead.

As she dusted her hands she gave another fond look at the still-warm body on the floor. Dear Johann... she would remember him always, just as she remembered all the males she'd taken through the ages. But more than that, she would be grateful to him always, for releasing her and for nourishing her. She was still not up to her full strength - it would take a far more powerful wizard than her Johann to fully revitalize her - but for the moment, she felt ready to face the world.

She glanced speculatively at the other glass caskets on the bottom shelf. Her sisters were in those caskets, imprisoned by Dee as she'd been imprisoned. Should she free them now? A dozen of her kind loosed on the world would make it less likely that any one of them would be recaptured...

It was her hunger that decided her. She needed a supremely powerful wizard, and surely those would be few and far between - she didn't welcome any competition. No, she promised, once she was restored to full power she would return and free her sisters. With that much of a head start, she could afford to be magnanimous.

Closing her eyes, she sifted through the memories she'd seen in Johann's mind. There was one powerful wizard featured there, one so powerful and terrible that Johann dared not use his name even in his thoughts. One who was already corrupt, and so might prove far easier prey for her. And one whose removal wouldn't prompt any efforts to recapture her, unlike other candidates.

Johann hadn't known where the Unnamed One was hiding, but that wouldn't stop her. His power would shine like a lantern in the darkness, and draw her directly to him. And indeed, she sensed that he wasn't far from where she stood... he was here, somewhere, in this city of London...

She abandoned her likeness of the Clearwater trollop and dissolved into vapor once more. Quickly she faded from the Department of Mysteries, leaving behind the scent of honeysuckle to mask the odor of dear Johann's corpse.

*

Harry had to wonder how the conversations over breakfast had been hijacked, and how he could bring them back to normal. Here it was, a beautiful Saturday morning, the morning of a Hogsmeade visit no less, but the conversation wasn't about Hogsmeade.

And last Saturday had been the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin - and Gryffindor was slated to face Hufflepuff in two weeks - but the conversation wasn't about Quidditch, either. No, the topic was the same as it had been all week:

"And then three of them tried to throw a web over us from above!" Dean was saying with great enthusiasm. "Parvati saw it coming, though, and she hit the lead one with that Aranea exime spell Harry showed us. It curled up onto its back, and that gave me the chance to tear the web open with a Reductor spell. Man, that was incredible!"

"It sure was," Colin agreed. "Hey Harry, where'd you find that spell, anyway? It sure wasn't in any of my Defense courses...!"

Harry toyed, just for a moment, with the idea of telling them the truth: Oh, I learned it from a memory preserved in a diary by Lord Voldemort. It probably wouldn't go over very well, he decided. "I dunno," he said. "It seemed to work, though, didn't it?"

"Yeah. I remember how you used it in our second year, fighting the Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. Urgggh!" Ron gave a theatrical shiver. "I don't think I've ever forgiven Hagrid for sending us to talk with Aragog." He sighed. "I won't say I'll miss him, but at least he could keep all his offspring under control..."

It had only been a couple of days ago that the full story had become known. Aragog had died in the Forbidden Forest - probably of old age, though murder hadn't been ruled out. In any case, Voldemort had been right there, ready to tell the Acromantula colony that their patriarch's death freed them from any obligation to Hagrid... that they needed fresh, tender meat, and there was a plentiful supply of it at Hogwarts...

The Ravenclaw-Slytherin match had been going for an hour when the Acromantulas had streamed out of the Forest, hundreds strong, and made for the viewing stands. It had been Cho Chang who'd first spotted them, and to her credit she halted the game and brought the entire Ravenclaw team straight to the Gryffindor seats - there to tell Harry of the invasion, and to await his orders.

Not Dumbledore, not McGonagall: Harry.

Hermione had cast the Sonorus charm on Harry. In a booming voice he'd summoned Dumbledore's Army, directed everyone else to the highest seats, and instructed the entire school on the spell most effective against the giant spiders.

And then he'd led the charge against them.

In the end, huge numbers of Acromantulas had been slain, and the remainder driven back into the Forbidden Forest. Articles had appeared in the Daily Prophet, demanding to know how such an attack could have happened; the Ministry of Magic had promised a thorough investigation, which meant the truth would never be published. And Harry just wanted to put the incident behind them. He couldn't treat it like an exciting adventure, as the rest of the D.A. were doing - or as he himself might have done in years past. As far as he was concerned, the giant spiders had simply been yet another of Voldemort's attacks on Hogwarts this year... no more, no less.

It was just a distraction, to take everyone's attention from what Voldemort's really planning. Dammit, am I the only one who can see that?!

He turned to Hermione, intent on asking her opinion, only to catch her quickly lowering her hand from her right shoulder. She'd been rubbing her wound again, he realized guiltily. "It's all right, Harry," she hastened to assure him. "Madam Pomfrey said it would be a little sore for a few more days, that's all."

"I shouldn't've let that spider close enough to sting you in the first place," Harry said, so softly that only Hermione could hear him. "I'm really sorry..."

She replied equally softly. "If you apologize one more time for something that wasn't your fault, I'll... I'll..."

"Stop talking to me?" The corner of his mouth twitched. "Oh, please don't do that, I'd hardly know how I'd get through the day..."

"Badly, of course." Hermione arched one eyebrow at him, then returned to her breakfast. Harry could see her not quite hiding a smirk.

"Harry?" came a dreamy voice from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder. Luna was standing behind him, an oversized grimoire in her arms. "Oh, hi Luna."

She nodded acknowledgement of her identity. "I'm afraid I have some extra work to do with my O.W.L. revision group," she said somberly, hefting the book so Harry could see it. "I'll be a bit delayed coming to Hogsmeade."

"Oh," said Harry. "Um, well, you know I'll understand if you need to stay here all day..."

"No, no, I should be along, only a bit late. Don't worry, I'll find you. I always do, don't I?" Luna smiled brightly at Harry, oblivious to the others at the table, and made her way out of the Great Hall.

"A date, Harry? With Loony Lovegood?" Seamus managed a very respectable leer.

"First, her name is Luna - and I believe I've told you that before," said Harry sharply. "Second, it's not a date like you're thinking. No cozy teashops, no quiet corners, no snogging, nothing like that."

"Of course not, Harry," snickered Dean. "She only seeks you out so you can discuss Dingle-Eyed Bobdogs or some such."

"No... I think she seeks me out because I don't call her Loony." Harry's voice had turned quiet - and utterly scathing. He looked Seamus and Dean straight in their eyes... and somehow, though their smirking expressions didn't change, he thought he detected a flicker of shame inside them. Maybe they'd remember to call Luna by her right name in the future.

"Neither do I, anymore," Ron reminded him, unabashed by the exchange, "and she doesn't want to meet me in Hogsmeade." He finished his pumpkin juice in a long swallow and stood from the table. "Speaking of which, the day's not getting any younger, and Hogsmeade's waiting for us..."

"And it's not going anywhere," Hermione reminded him tartly as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower. "Will you slow down?!" She watched Ron, Seamus and Dean race ahead before adding quietly to Harry, "It could be worse. At least this year, they didn't schedule a Hogsmeade trip on Valentine's Day..."

"No," Harry returned dryly. "They scheduled it the week before, to make sure all the guys had a chance to buy gifts." Hermione conceded the point with rolled eyes and a slight smile before heading up to the girls' dormitory.

Half an hour later, the Gryffindors had joined the throng of students that were streaming out the Hogwarts gates and down the road to Hogsmeade. There were a few puddles on the ground, but it had been a very mild winter - if anything, the morning air was pleasantly warm, Harry decided. (Hermione had tried to explain the clement weather, lecturing them about global warming and greenhouse effects. Unfortunately, she'd only succeeded in convincing Ron and Neville that Professor Sprout was somehow involved in a plot to banish winter.)

Harry slowed his steps slightly, allowing himself to fall back from his friends. The furor over last week's Acromantula attack had left him somewhat reluctant for social contact - yet he found he didn't want to be totally alone, either. He compromised by coming to Hogsmeade with his friends but staying a bit apart from them. As he watched his friends make their way to the village, he realized how everyone's interactions had changed this year.

For instance, Ginny was in the process of bending Neville's ear as they walked together. Ginny had broken up with her latest boyfriend on Wednesday - or had been unceremoniously dumped by him, to hear her tell it - and only now was ready to talk about it. It was remarkable how Neville had become Ginny's confidante this year... not just in affairs of the heart, but on everything from schoolwork to Chaser tactics. He was nodding sympathetically as she alternated between fulminating and brooding.

Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, were engaged in a little minuet of their own. Harry had noticed how Ron was making a conscious effort to not bicker with Hermione - at least not as much as usual - and wasn't sure he welcomed the change. Ron's growing feelings for Hermione had never been secret, exactly... but as long as he hadn't done anything about them, Harry could tolerate them. But now...

Well, actually... in a way, it was kind of amusing.

Ron and Hermione were animatedly discussing something... S.P.E.W., or their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, or something... it hardly mattered what. Ron was waving his arms extravagantly, making a point... the arm closest to Hermione came down, began to circle her waist...

... and Hermione took two quick steps forward as she waved to a person ahead of them, seemingly quite unaware of Ron's efforts to hold her by him. She made it look quite natural, but Harry couldn't help wonder whether she knew exactly what Ron was trying to do... since, being Hermione, she'd know exactly what she was doing.

Hermione waved again to the person, and now Harry could see who it was: it was Tonks, walking up the street from the train station. She saw Hermione's wave but, apart from a quick smile, didn't stop to acknowledge it. Tonks wore official-looking blue robes and a serious expression, looking very unlike the cheerfully clumsy young witch who'd escorted Harry from Privet Drive last year. She was accompanying two other witches, who looked rather familiar...

Harry gave a start when he recognized them: Penelope Clearwater, who'd been Petrified along with Hermione four years ago, and Madam Bones, who'd been one of Harry's judges at his trial before the Wizengamot last year. "I wonder what she's doing here," he said to himself.

"Me too," said Ginny, who evidently overheard him. "Don't tell me she's gotten back with Percy again...!"

"Not her... the older one, with the monocle," said Harry. "No, don't stare! That's Madam Bones, she heads the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Directs the Aurors and everything." The five teens watched as Bones, with Penelope and Tonks in tow, strode briskly towards Hogwarts.

"Maybe she's here to arrange for guards around Hogsmeade," suggested Neville. "Since You-Know-Who attacked the school again last week... I mean, it's a wonder this weekend wasn't cancelled."

"More likely she's here to see Dumbledore," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I can't imagine the Head of the Department would come in person, simply to arrange for guards. Hmmm..."

They'd reached the streets of Hogsmeade by this point, and the throngs of students quickly engulfed them. Harry looked back at Madam Bones, wondering what she needed with the Headmaster... turning around again, he found himself without his friends at his side. They must have gotten separated in the crowd.

Well, they'd meet up later at the Three Broomsticks, that was certain. And for the moment, he didn't think he could stomach watching any more of Ron's attempts at subtlety. He sauntered casually over to the Quidditch supply shop, enjoying a quiet moment by himself, reveling in the warm sunshine and the scent of honeysuckle in the air.

*

"So, Amelia," said Dumbledore, ushering them into his office, "your Floo call sounded most serious. Tell me what is so important that it brings you to Hogwarts in person." He conjured a set of plush armchairs with a wave of his wand, and invited them to sit down.

"Does it have to do with You-Know-Who?" asked Professor McGonagall.

Bones shook her head. "Not directly... but a Dark threat nonetheless. Isn't your new Defense teacher going to be joining us?'

"I'm afraid he's been gone for the last two days - he had some urgent family business to attend to," said Dumbledore apologetically. In point of fact, the 'urgent business' had been on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix, but Dumbledore saw no need to mention that. "We will have to deal with this new Dark threat without him. I assume, since you've come here, that it threatens Hogwarts or its students?"

"Actually, no, Dumbledore. We don't believe it does." Bones took a deep breath. "We believe it threatens you."

Dumbledore blinked. "Indeed," he said mildly. "Well then, you'd best tell me what you know."

Bones gestured to Penelope, who nervously began, "Well, sir, it started in the Department of Mysteries. You may know I work there, now... anyway, we've been repairing the damage caused by, uh, You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters last June. Quite a bit of damage, as you know... especially in the Prophecy Room. That room was the most difficult to clean up, since you know how dangerous the globes can be to touch. Even their fragments..."

"I'm aware, Miss Clearwater," interjected Dumbledore pleasantly.

"Er, yes, of course you are. Sorry... Anyway, the Unspeakable who was in charge of repairing that room went missing... we didn't see him for several days. Eventually a few of us were assigned to begin cleaning the Prophecy Room in his place. I was part of the team, and... well, I found his body there in the Room. He was dead - totally drained of life force." Penelope shuddered.

"Some byproduct of the prophecies' effects?"

"No sir, nothing to do with the prophecies. You see, I found the body near a shelf of glass boxes. At first we wondered what they were, since they obviously weren't prophecies... and once we'd discovered them, we had to erect Repelling Charms to keep people away. Uh, men in particular."

"It took considerable digging in the Ministry's oldest records to discover the truth of those glass boxes - and what they contained," Madam Bones said, taking up the tale. "A family of powerful Dark creatures known as the lilim."

McGonagall nodded grimly. "Or to give them their Latin name, succubi. Female demons whose prey is men."

"Wizards, by preference. And now one of them is free. It killed Johann Vandegroote and escaped from the Ministry. It's currently at large... somewhere." Bones leaned forward. "How strong are the protections built into Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore took a moment to reply. "Am I to gather from all this that you think I am a likely target for this succubus?" His tone was both amused and superior.

"Well, sir, the thing's been trapped for four hundred years," said Penelope. "It'll be hungry and weak... a normal wizard like Vandegroote won't satisfy it for long. It needs to, uh, consume a very powerful wizard. And you do have the reputation of being the greatest sorcerer alive."

"My first thought was that it'd go after You-Know-Who," said Tonks unexpectedly. "There were some reports of odd activity within the Death Eaters around the time we think it escaped. But then we learned of a couple of mysterious deaths in the last couple of weeks - both of them wizards - on a direct line from London to Hogsmeade."

"We think the succubus was trying to keep itself alive until it could reach here - and feed off you," Bones concluded. "So let me ask again..."

"Rest assured, the protections built into the castle foundation are quite solid," Dumbledore stated firmly. "They're strong enough that no demon, major or minor, could breach them by force. You will recall, Miss Clearwater, during your seventh year when we had the dementors of Azkaban on the grounds. But they couldn't come into the castle itself without my permission, which I refused to give."

"Fudge authorized them to enter the castle eventually," added McGonagall in disgust.

"He's unlikely to repeat the mistake this time, Minerva."

Bones cleared her throat. "Professor Dumbledore, I say this with the greatest respect... but you might invite the succubus into Hogwarts without knowing it. It can take any female form it wishes... and if it were to assume a form that... well, that is, if you were to..." She cleared her throat again. Pausing, she took her monocle off her eye and spent a minute polishing it. Dumbledore watched her in great amusement as she finally replaced the monocle in her eye, cleared her throat yet again, and opened her mouth in a futile effort to speak.

"Allow me, Amelia, to spare you some embarrassment. You wish to ask me if I'd ever be inclined to invite a witch into my chambers for... shall we say, immoral purposes? Dear me, and here I'd thought my reputation was spotless." Dumbledore smiled kindly as he conjured a glass of water for Bones, who accepted it without comment. "While I won't say I'm too old to be tempted by pleasures of the flesh, I will say I'm too old to give in to such temptation."

"The lili could attack you outside the castle, though, Albus," said McGonagall. "Even though your mind might fight it, your body might respond physically to it - and we don't know how powerful it might be."

"Psychic entrapment, do you think? In addition to mere physical attraction?" Dumbledore paused and gave it serious contemplation. "I still maintain that I would be able to resist such an attack," he said after a moment, "but perhaps you're right. It would certainly be an unnecessary risk." He looked back at Bones. "Very well, Amelia, I'll agree to not leave Hogwarts for the time being... until the succubus is caught."

"Or to invite any woman inside," amended Bones, "even if you think you recognize her. After all, the succubus can take the form of someone who has every right to be in the castle. But as long as you, as Headmaster of the school, don't invite anyone in, the castle remains safe."

"The invitation of one of the staff or students wouldn't be enough," McGonagall agreed. "Even if one of them wished, they couldn't bring the demon through the castle protections to get to you. And..." She stopped abruptly. Her face grew pale as a horrible new thought occurred to her. "Albus?! Albus, what if the succubus isn't hunting you?!"

*

She'd initially been irked that she'd been forced so far out of her way. The Riddle fool might as well have been a eunuch: he'd thrown away all thought of love and lust in his bid for magical dominance. When she had approached him, she found she had no power over him... and he'd known it. But he had told her of another wizard, one he'd claimed would serve her purposes far better than anyone else, and now she was glad she'd believed him. Her new quarry was young and virile and fairly bursting with power. Even from this distance she could sense the delicious energies that slept, unguessed, in the youth's body.

Non-magical males could barely sustain her existence. In human terms, they might have been likened to a plate of carrot sticks. Normal wizards such as dear Johann, and more recently Will and Basil, fed her better but were still not enough to restore her full strength - bowls of chicken soup, as it were.

This young wizard was a complete seven-course banquet topped with a brandy liqueur.

She wished she had the time to savor the affair properly. Done right, this would be an experience she would treasure forever. But her prey would, all too soon, be returning to the stone castle wrapped within its impregnable wards. By the time he re-emerged, her escape from the Ministry would doubtless have been discovered. No, this had to be consummated today.

For the moment, at least, the youth was separated from his companions. He had no distractions... his thoughts wandered unguarded. Delicately, she let the fringes of her essence insinuate into the youth's mind and memories. She was searching for one specific image, the image he kept locked away in his heart, the one that could seduce him before he knew it had happened. His secret Venus.

*

"Potter?" asked Bones incredulously. "Harry Potter? I know he's The Boy Who Lived, Dumbledore, but that hardly qualifies him to be a wizard powerful enough to..."

"At the age of thirteen," Dumbledore interrupted, "he could conjure a Patronus capable of repelling over a hundred attacking dementors. By now, he is able to perform wandless magic. Wandless magic, Amelia! How many others besides myself can you name with that level of raw power?"

"He hasn't acquired the skills that come with learning... but in terms of power alone, he'd make a very tempting target for one of the lilim," said McGonagall flatly. "And he's in Hogsmeade right now, off his guard and unprotected!" As she spoke, she stepped to the fireplace in Dumbledore's office and seized a handful of Floo powder from the container next to it. Throwing it into the fire, she called loudly, "Peregrina!"

After a moment, the face of Madam Hooch appeared in the flames. "Minerva? What...?"

"I've no time to explain, Peregrina, so please listen. Find Urania, Pomona, Irma and Poppy as quickly as you can, and wait for me in front of the Three Broomsticks. It's vitally important, trust me!" McGonagall broke off the Floo connection and turned to Bones. "How many female Aurors and Enforcers can you summon immediately?"

Bones seemed taken aback at McGonagall's sudden fierceness. "Er, Naphtali and Pymm, I suppose... and there's Wright, and Featherstone..."

McGonagall cut her off impatiently. "Call them at once. Have them Floo or Apparate to Hogsmeade as soon as possible. Tonks, Clearwater, you're with me. Albus," she turned on the Headmaster, who had begun to rise from his seat, "you are to stay here. If the demon is in Hogsmeade, I'll have enough to worry about protecting Potter without having to worry about you as well!"

"As you wish, Minerva," he replied smoothly... but he sat down quite promptly, looking rather like one of McGonagall's pupils trying to avoid detention.

*

Frustration. Utter frustration.

Despite the hardness of his life, her prey was one of the most caring men she'd ever encountered. Those who made their way past his emotional barriers received his full loyalty, his fellowship, his trust... his love. He would die rather than let them be injured in any way.

But lust? It was barely to be found in him! Some impending conflict occupied his mind so completely that he could spare no thought to baser emotions. It was as though he was deliberately trying to reject any diversions from his road.

It wasn't like he'd never had carnal urges, she saw. He'd had his share of wet dreams, and hormones raged as strongly in him as in any young buck - but they found no focus, no inamorata to inspire his fantasies and leave him aching in the dark. Had she come a year ago, there would have been a likely candidate, but that ship had long since left port.

Still, she hadn't survived all these centuries without developing some strategies. If animal lust weren't readily available, love would always provide a foothold for her talents. She needed only to get her prey's attention - in that way - for but a moment. Nature, and her own skills, would do the rest.

She abandoned her idea of assuming an idealized female form, voluptuous and seductive - if she were to succeed, she'd have to take a form already known to the youth. Sifting through his conscious and unconscious minds, she saw the repeated images of three young witches. No one else was close enough to him to even have a chance of success... but which one was closest? The youth himself was totally clueless, but she had the advantage of an unbiased perspective...

Now she only had to construct a plausible scenario.

*

I wonder where Luna is, Harry thought, as he paused before the Hog's Head and wondered if he dared go inside. It was hardly an inviting place, but for the moment it seemed preferable to Honeydukes (where Ron was likely to be), Scrivenshaft's (where Hermione was likely to be), or Zonko's (where, he suspected, Ginny was likely to be - reconnoitering for Fred and George).

In the end, he decided against going in. If he went in, he'd be expected to buy a drink, and drinking alone in a filthy, dodgy pub currently ranked fairly low on his list of Things To Do Before He Died.

He turned down a side street, deliberately avoiding the places where Hogwarts students usually congregated... perversely enjoying his solitude while wishing that Luna would appear. Harry wasn't sure what they'd talk about when she arrived, but he was quite sure it wouldn't involve giant spiders... and that suited him just fine.

Seconds after Harry disappeared from view down the side street, Hogwarts's female staff appeared in front of the Three Broomsticks. They went inside and stood in the doorway, surveying the surprised crowd of customers, while McGonagall explained the situation to them in a rapid whisper. "Irma, Tonks, stay here at the pub and coordinate with Bones and her Aurors when they arrive," she concluded. "The rest of you, stay in groups of two or more - I don't want the thing overpowering one of you and taking your place!"

"I thought its powers only affected wizards," said Sprout uncertainly.

"If it takes physical shape, it can still knock you for a loop, no matter your gender," McGonagall corrected her. "Spread out and get going! Miss Clearwater, you'd best stay close to me." They quickly formed into pairs and left the vicinity of the Three Broomsticks, leaving Tonks with Madam Pince.

Tonks nodded reassuringly to Pince, and gave the pub patrons another scan. Following her lead, Pince began to do the same - just as Tonks had hoped. The moment Pince's attention was elsewhere, Tonks slipped into a corner and shucked off her Auror's robe. A moment's concentration let her transform her pink spiked hair into black dreadlocks... her skin darkened a tone. Humming a snatch of reggae, she stepped out of her corner, past the unsuspecting Madam Pince, and out of the Three Broomsticks into the streets of Hogsmeade.

*

The difficulty, McGonagall reflected, was trying to get information from the wandering students without raising suspicion - or causing a panic. Asking "Have you seen Mr. Potter?" of each successive person she met was bound to do both.

Luckily, she spotted a flash of bright red hair in front of a shop down the lane - which could only mean one of the Weasleys. Either one of them would be her best source of information at the moment. Making her way there, she saw that it was Miss Weasley... and that Longbottom was with her. First things first, then...

"Good day, Mr. Longbottom... Miss Weasley. Please forgive my haste, but I have to ask if you two are together." The question seemed straightforward enough. She was astonished at their response to it: Longbottom's blushes, Weasley's indignance.

"That is to say," Clearwater put in hastily, "have you been together all morning? In each other's company?"

"Oh." Longbottom looked relieved. "Um, yeah, we left Hogwarts together... neither of us has been out of the other's sight. Is something wrong, Professor?"

McGonagall didn't immediately answer. "When did you last see Mr. Potter?"

Weasley calmed down as she saw where the questioning was headed. "Well... he was with us when we got to town," she said somberly, "then he got lost in the crowd. We were supposed to all meet back at the Three Broomsticks later, but he was going to meet Luna first..."

"Miss Lovegood? Have you seen her today?"

"Um... no, we haven't seen her, not yet. She had to come to Hogsmeade late, you see, and..." Weasley's voice trailed off as she watched McGonagall and Clearwater trade grim looks.

McGonagall briefly considered contacting Tonks, using the Order's secret method of communication, to have her spread this news to the searchers. But revealing the Order's secrets could, in the long run, jeopardize every member currently risking themselves against You-Know-Who. "Miss Clearwater, take these two back to the Three Broomsticks. Mr. Longbottom, Miss Weasley, please go with her. If you see Miss Lovegood along the way, on no account should you approach her! Just go and deliver the warning."

She didn't wait for them to respond, but turned and continued down the street at a rapid trot. Ginny and Neville would probably have stood motionless in the middle of the road, gaping at her, if Penelope hadn't spoken. "You heard the Professor. Let's go."

Together the three of them started back to the Three Broomsticks. "Penny, what's going on?" Ginny asked. "Is something wrong with Luna?"

"Detailed explanations will have to wait for now," Penelope said. "Let's just get back. Are you sure you don't know where Harry's likely to be?"

"Sorry, not really... he doesn't talk a lot these days," replied Neville. "He might've told Ron or Hermione."

"Of course, we haven't seen them all morning, either," added Ginny.

Penelope gave an exasperated sigh that was just short of a growl. "This really wasn't the best of days for everyone to be wandering off on their own," she muttered, and urged Ginny and Neville to walk faster.

*

Harry had long since given up on window-shopping. He was beginning to grow bored - and a bit worried. What was keeping Luna? Even though she was a Ravenclaw, Harry couldn't believe that O.W.L. revisions could be that engrossing. And despite her apparent absent-mindedness, in the past she'd shown herself quite capable of meeting people at a given time.

There must be some way that wizards can call to other wizards, he mused. Muggles have mobile phones... can't we do something like that? Maybe I should mention it to Hermione, I'll bet she could come up with something...

"Harry! Pssst - Harry!"

It took a second for his brain to move from thinking of Hermione to recognizing Hermione's voice. He looked up to see her standing in the alley between two shops, gesturing frantically for him to come over. He stepped over to her immediately. "Hermione? What..."

She seized his arm and pulled him quickly out of the street into the alleyway. "Sorry," she said after a moment, "but I didn't want you to attract attention. I'm, er, trying to avoid... someone."

"Someone." Harry thought he could guess what had happened. "Someone like Ron, maybe?"

Her cheeks turned pink, but she nodded readily enough. "Harry, I know he's your best friend, but I have to tell you..." She paused to think through her words, then went on, "I don't know if you noticed this morning, but all through our walk today, he... that is..."

"I did notice he was trying to get closer to you," Harry said, in what he hoped was an impartial tone. "So what happened? Did he... well, did he get...?"

"Let's say he developed a bad case of roving hands," she said, relieved that he understood. "I couldn't take it, I just had to get away from him for a bit. I mean, I could've made a scene then and there, but with all our friends about... I'm trying not to damage his pride too terribly."

"Really?" The way she said it made Harry's heart lighter, even as his stomach began to grow queasy. He became acutely aware that she hadn't let go of his arm.

"Well, of course. Ron's one of my best friends, too. I don't want to lose that if there's any way I can keep it." She glanced furtively back into the street, then pulled again on Harry's arm. They retreated further back into the alleyway, stepping around loose bottles and litter on the ground, stopping where it turned a corner behind the building.

"I thought it might be better not to see him until he's had time to cool off a bit," she continued. "I'm hoping that, if I can keep acting like I'm not interested - in that kind of relationship - with him, I mean - that eventually he'll turn his attentions to someone else. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Er, I guess." Harry looked around at the alley. "It might take a while - Ron can be pretty determined when he sets his mind to something. But... well, if you're sure you don't want that kind of relationship, then..."

"With Ron? Of course I don't... he's a very good friend, but no more than that. It's silly to think I might be attracted to him..."

*

Professor McGonagall returned to the Three Broomsticks to find Madam Pince literally wringing her hands. "I don't know how she got past me, Minerva, truly. One moment I was taking a head count of the students in the pub, and the next moment..."

"Don't fash yourself, Irma... Tonks is a Metamorphmagus, after all. She could make herself look like anyone she wants." McGonagall sighed and looked around. At least Clearwater, Weasley and Longbottom had sense enough to stay close at hand. "What could have possessed her to go out on her own?" she muttered to herself.

"Minerva... what you said..." Pince looked appalled as an idea occurred to her. "Are we sure that is Miss Tonks?"

McGonagall saw her point immediately. The succubus was able to alter her appearance to any female form, and was searching for Harry... and the same was true of Tonks. And Tonks had deliberately gone off alone, even after being warned against doing so... She turned to ask Clearwater when and where Tonks had joined her and Madam Bones, when she caught sight of the door - and only by an effort managed not to cry aloud.

In the doorway of the Three Broomsticks, looking around with her usual otherworldly expression, stood Luna Lovegood.

"Luna!" Weasley cried, and before anyone could stop her she'd rushed to the door and ushered Lovegood in. "Thank Merlin you're all right! From what everyone was saying, I thought you were dying of dragonpox or something!"

"I wouldn't think so," said Lovegood matter-of-factly. "Everyone knows that dragonpox is dormant in months with no K in them."

Close behind Lovegood stood Su Li, another Ravenclaw. "Professor McGonagall? Is everything all right?"

"I hope so, Miss Li. Did you just arrive in Hogsmeade?"

Li gave the answer McGonagall hoped to hear. "Yes, ma'am. Luna and I spent all morning revising for our O.W.L.s... then we walked here together. We just got here..."

"Good! Stay here, both of you - especially you, Miss Lovegood. Rosmerta, give them anything they want, and put it on my tab." She turned back to Pince. "Have we heard from Bones's Aurors yet?"

Pince nodded. "Madam Bones will be stationing them outside Hogsmeade, what she called a perimeter. Then they'll be working their way to the center of town."

"Tell them to keep a watch for Lovegood - if they spot her in town, we'll know it's the succubus. And Tonks as well - assuming she's reverted to her normal appearance..."

"Succubus?!"

Too late, McGonagall remembered Longbottom's presence. His outburst had been heard by the entire pub. Lovegood now wore a worried look, unusual for her - while Weasley, from her expression, had deduced all the details of the threat they were facing. "Please, everyone, remain calm - the situation is under control. We have trained hit-witches looking for Mr. Potter and the succubus... which we suspect has taken Miss Lovegood's form, although another possibility has just occurred to us. At any event, you can help us best by staying here, where we can be sure that you're all who you appear to be."

Lovegood looked puzzled, rather than satisfied, by the explanation. "Excuse me, Professor, but I'm curious: what makes you think a succubus would take my form? It's not all that good a form, really." She glanced down at her chest. "They hardly bounce at all..."

"Mr. Potter was expecting to meet with you today, was he not?" McGonagall replied. "If you were still at Hogwarts, there'd be no chance anyone might see two of you here. It could assume your identity without arousing suspicion."

She nodded. "Yes, that's clear, but taking my form still wouldn't help a succubus. Not with Harry. Not when there are better forms it could take..." She looked Weasley up and down with mild interest, and nodded to herself as Weasley's face turned bright red. Then she craned her neck and looked behind her at the rest of the Three Broomstick's occupants. "And one of them isn't here, I see."

*

"He's a very good friend," said Hermione, "but no more than that. It's silly to think I might be attracted to him..."

Unexpectedly Harry felt her lips, soft and warm, brushing against his ear as she breathed, "...when I'm already attracted to someone else."

His head jerked around to stare at her. Hermione was standing very close, her face bare inches from his, adoration shining from her eyes, a liquid smile on her lips. "Harry," she murmured tenderly as she put her arms around his neck.

And then she was kissing him, not a peck on the cheek but hot and wet on the lips... and not at all in a best-friend sort of way, unless of course your best friend had just contracted nymphomania. His body responded for an instant before he could collect his wits and pull back from her kiss. "Hermione?! Wh-what's going on...?!"

"Honestly, Harry, I should hope that's obvious," she laughed. She started walking backwards, her arms still around his neck, and Harry found himself following her as she rounded the corner of the alleyway, out of sight of the street. Behind the building a space had been cleared among the litter on the ground, and a large plush blanket had been laid down.

Obvious with a capital O.

She pulled his head to hers and kissed him again, more urgently. A part of Harry was trying to slow down, to tell her that they didn't need to rush... that he wanted to think, for once, before jumping headlong... but that part of him didn't seem to be connected to his mouth.

One of her hands came away from his head and unfastened the clasp of her robe. When Harry came up for oxygen, Hermione let the robe fall to the ground. The clothes she wore underneath were the same Harry'd seen earlier, when they'd left the school - except Harry didn't recall her blouse being so sheer. And it was clear (in more ways than one) that the only thing under Hermione's blouse was Hermione.

And now she was rubbing up against him, and a honeysuckle fragrance was filling his senses, and the last bit of his control left him. His hands came up to caress her breasts, soft but firm and fitting perfectly into his palms, and she gave a little moan of pleasure. Together they fell to their knees onto the blanket, and this time it was Harry who initiated the kiss.

Her hands found their way beneath his robe and began to unfasten his belt, then his trousers. Almost of their own accord, the buttons of her blouse slipped free. Harry slid the blouse away and delighted in the feel of the soft skin of her shoulders.

Her soft shoulders...

Where was the sting from the Acromantula?

Harry pulled abruptly out of their kiss and looked down at Hermione's bosom. Her breasts were lovely - too lovely. There should have been a scar there, the scar left over from Dolohov's curse last year. Quickly he looked back into her face, puzzled and beginning to be suspicious.

She gave a merry laugh that was nearly convincing. "Oh Harry, Madam Pomfrey healed that scar months ago! Don't worry about hurting me..." Her hands were in his pants now, stroking gently. "Worry about this."

Her touch was setting his blood on fire. He wanted this, wanted her, wanted it so badly he ached - but something was wrong here, his instincts screamed at him, this wasn't right, this wasn't... This wasn't Hermione!

Even as the realization came to him, he heard a male voice from behind him: "Harry, get away from her! Now!"

Harry looked up to see a black man with dreadlocks, pointing a wand at them. No, not at them, but at her, at Hermione... who wasn't Hermione. "Let him go," he warned her.

She responded with a low, throaty chuckle. "Every wizard should learn the proper use of his wand..." She stopped chuckling, creased her brow, and suddenly snarled. Her eyes gleamed blood-red for an instant. "Away with you, witch!" she cried, and swept her hand commandingly.

The black man flew backwards across the alley, striking the opposite wall with great force. As he slid down into the mud, Harry watched as the man's face shifted, its color grew paler. It was Tonks who collapsed in a heap, unconscious.

He started to get up, to go see if Tonks was all right, but not-Hermione pushed him down and onto his back. She was frighteningly strong - she pinned him effortlessly with one hand while the other yanked his trousers to his knees. And then she was on top of him, straddling him, and of course she wasn't wearing anything underneath her skirt.

"You want this, darling," not-Hermione purred, as she began to rock her hips. "You know you want this. We both do... Trust me, it won't hurt a bit." She looked lovingly into his eyes as she raised herself slightly on her knees, with a wiggle positioned herself over him, and prepared to thrust down...

But Harry thought he saw something flicker in those eyes - as he'd seen with Seamus and Dean just that morning. He focused his gaze, intent, desperate, praying that if she was in his mind, he could get into hers... that he might see something, anything that might help him.

And to his surprise he did see images rushing by, as though he were back in one of Snape's Occlumency lessons, or as though he were watching a Pensieve in rapid motion. Images of fiery lakes and a black throne... of a beautiful winged woman... of manacles of cold iron opening and falling away...

And then one memory came that was tinged with her fear. He snatched at it mentally, held it fast. It was the vision of an elderly man, bearded, wearing a skullcap and Elizabethan wizard's robes... holding in front of him an open crystal casket, speaking words of power... and saying a name...

"Azriadtha," he croaked.

Not-Hermione gave a wounded cry and fell off Harry, a look of horror on her face. "No," she whispered.

Harry quickly glanced to one side, at the litter in the alley. His hand shot out and grabbed an empty butterbeer bottle. He pointed its mouth at not-Hermione and repeated the words he'd heard the old man say. "Azriadtha, I thee enjoin."

"No!" she cried. "Harry, please, no!"

"Azriadtha, I thee adjure."

Her shape began to dissolve at the edges. The scent of honeysuckle was almost overwhelming. "Harryyy!"

"Azriadtha, I thee compel!!"

"NO-O-O-O-OOO!!" she wailed, as her body became mist and swirled into the butterbeer bottle. Hermione's voice continued to plead. "Harry, don't do this, I beg you!"

With his free hand Harry clawed up some mud from the alley floor - and as the last trace of mist was sucked into the bottle, he stuffed it into the bottle's mouth and held it sealed with his hand. He screwed his eyes shut as he heard Hermione's voice echo faintly from the bottle: "Harry! Harry, please! I love you!"

His stomach was twisted into agonizing knots. His heart felt like it was clawing out of his chest and choking his throat. His lungs had to be forced to resume their normal function. And his hand stayed firmly in place, keeping the bottle sealed.

He heard a step behind him. "Well done, Harry," said Tonks quietly. "Better let me have it now."

He sat up quickly, drawing his knees to his chest in an attempt to maintain modesty. It took him a moment to find his voice. "Tonks? You all right?"

"Just a bump on the bonce. Hey, that's my hardest part, it's impossible to hurt." Tonks reached around Harry to pry the bottle from his hands. "I'll put an Unbreakable Charm on this - something they didn't know about four hundred years ago. I'll, uh, just go over here and do it." Considerately, she stepped away, giving him a moment of privacy. Harry took the opportunity to pull up his trousers... with some difficulty.

Clothing back in place, he stood and walked over to where Tonks was waving her wand over the bottle. She looked up as he approached. "All done. And I've fused the mud into glass, so it's a solid seal. That thing won't ever break out again." She looked anxiously into Harry's face for a moment. "It wasn't really her, Harry."

"Yeah. I know," Harry said tightly. But it looked like her, he added silently, sounded like her, smelled like her... oh Merlin, I wanted it to be her...

"It only wanted to suck you dry and kill you," Tonks persisted. "Its appearance was a lie. Anything it told you was a lie."

He nodded mutely. Tonks was about to say more when there was a sound of running footsteps coming from the street. Seconds later, McGonagall and Bones burst into the back-alley with their wands drawn - and pointed at Tonks. "Daemona exi--" Bone began to cry out.

"Hold up, it's me!" shouted Tonks. "We've got the sucky in here!" She held up the butterbeer bottle for them to see.

Bones stopped, but neither she nor McGonagall lowered their wands. "You left the Three Broomsticks," McGonagall said, in the iron-hard tone that had wrung explanations from a generation of Hogwarts students.

"I thought I'd be able to fool the succubus," Tonks said rapidly. "By taking a male form. I reckoned it'd try to use its powers against me, and before it discovered I was actually a witch, I'd be able to deal with it." She saw McGonagall hesitate, and added, "And besides, Dumbledore'd already invited me into Hogwarts! If I was the succubus, I could've just stayed there and gone after Harry at my leisure, right?"

Chagrined, McGonagall lowered her wand. "Excellent point - I should've thought of that. You still oughtn't to have gone off alone, Tonks... but I find it hard to argue with success."

"Too true," said Bones, who had put away her own wand when she saw McGonagall lower hers. She took the bottle from Tonks and turned it over in her hands, inspecting it. "We'll put it back with its sisters - and this time we'll take care to label the damned things! Good work, Tonks, I must say... attacking and recapturing the lili single-handed. You'll receive a commendation for this."

"She deserves it, too," said Harry abruptly. Tonks looked at him in surprise. She was about to protest that she'd been knocked unconscious - that it was Harry who'd defeated the succubus - but he silently mouthed the word You, and she knew that, for some reason, he didn't want the credit.

Bones raised her wand and fired a shower of green sparks into the air - presumably informing the Aurors that the danger was past, so that they in turn could tell the people collected at the Three Broomsticks. She then strode briskly out of the alley, with McGonagall, Harry and Tonks following at a slower pace. McGonagall was looking at Harry and Tonks shrewdly, as though she had a fair idea of how events had actually gone down. "Are you sure you're all right, Potter?" she asked.

He gave an unenthusiastic shrug of his shoulders. "Am I needed here any more, Professor? I'd kind of like to go back to my dorm and lie down."

"If you need to see Madam Pomfrey..."

"No... just want to lie down." He managed to muster a weary smile. "Don't worry, Professor, I'm all right. It was just another of Voldemort's attacks... just like all the others. No... no damage done," he finished, lamely and unconvincingly.

With McGonagall's reluctant nod of permission, he began to trudge back to Hogwarts. McGonagall shook her head sadly as she watched him... the dejected slope of the shoulders, the bowed head, the walk that fairly screamed of depression.

"Tonks..." she began.

"I didn't catch the thing, Professor," Tonks replied immediately. "Harry did... alone. It got inside his head, took physical form, assaulted him in every sense of the word, and he still beat it."

She paused in thought, then continued, "Look, d'you think you could spread the word - quietly - that Harry repelled the attack on his own? He doesn't want a lot of hay made over this, but certain people need to learn that Harry can defend himself. Against anything. I'll tell Madam Bones later." She sighed. "Damn. There goes my commendation," she added with a lopsided grin.

They watched as two blue-cloaked Aurors escorted a pair of students to the Three Broomsticks - even at a distance, they could make out Hermione's bushy hair and Ron's tall red-topped figure. Upon spotting Harry, Ron and Hermione broke away from their escort and ran to him at full speed. Hermione flung herself at Harry, her arms spread wide, and enveloped him in a massive hug. He stiffened as though in pain, but she ignored it and maintained her embrace... and after a moment, he seemed to visibly relax.

Placing his hands on her upper arms, he moved her back a step and peered intently into her eyes for a long minute. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him... he kept one hand on her as he stretched out his other hand and caught Ron. He wrapped one arm around each of them, to Hermione's obvious surprise and Ron's embarrassment, and said something that Tonks and McGonagall couldn't hear.

Eventually he released them, and gestured for them to go into the Three Broomsticks. Hermione began to protest, but he shook his head and resumed his walk to Hogwarts. Hermione made a move as though to follow him, but Ron laid a hand on her forearm and stopped her. They continued to watch Harry trudge away from them before turning and going into the pub.

"Dammit, Harry, it wasn't her," Tonks muttered.

McGonagall glanced at her. "Whose form did the succubus take, Tonks?" she asked slowly.

Tonks met McGonagall's curious gaze with almost an air of defiance. "It all happened so fast, Professor," she replied. "I never got a good look." And so clearly had she said her final word on the subject, that even Minerva McGonagall didn't dare press her.