A Soul to Keep

CHAPTER SEVEN

To the Manor

A silent twelve hours is an eternity through which no human is able to emerge in possession of every ounce of patience that they entered into it with.

At seven a.m. Pansy lay silent and uncomfortable on her bed, watching Draco as he sat on the floor across the room, leaning against the wall with blank eyes, his knees drawn up to his chest. He had barely moved at all during the night, neither of them had really slept, and Pansy was becoming quite sure that he had not believed a word she had said concerning the origins of her Mark.

As she laid out her tale, he neither moved nor even glanced in her direction and gave only the shortest of grunts to acknowledge his awareness that her story was through.

She wanted desperately to run over to him now, shake him by the shoulders and scream at him to believe her. But still she lay, rumpled and warm in her over-soft bed and ridiculous nightgown, and watched as the hatred for her flared up inside of him.

Soon, like a sudden explosion of thunder before a storm, the door swung open. Lucius strode in. "We're going home," he stated, his cold eyes steady on the bed. The fact that his son was curled up a short distance to his left was apparently a non-issue.

"What?"

"The four of us, Pansy, to the Manor. Move, pack, we leave in twenty minutes." Following this vague announcement he strode back out, leaving the door open wide behind him.

***

Professor Sprout ran her gloved hand lovingly over the sickly looking plant, whatever it was, and smiled up at the class.

They were to be administering medicine to these horrible, purple sacks of slime and were to be graded on how little of said slime ended up on their person. Whatever these plants were, they were very ill and were secreting some kind of noxious violet pus, which was in turn killing them faster.

Matilda slid her hand into the outrageously oversized glove and stared plaintively up at Blaise.

"I'm not doing it," he whispered with a look of utter revulsion. "I'm not covering myself in that, I've worked far too hard on my complexion to let some acidic plant pus to ruin it."

"It's acidic?" she mouthed in horror, her voice abandoning her as she imagined what this could mean for her own skin.

Blaise smiled and took a step back. "You really should listen during this class."

This was it. Herbology was the bane of her existence. If that plant was going to kill itself with it's own phlegm, may it be so. It was none of her concern if the bloody thing lived or died. If it didn't have the sense not to ooze poison all over itself, it deserved to perish slowly and slimily.

"No, Harry," Hermione's harsh, maternal voice carried over to them. "I don't think you should do it today." Harry nodded compliantly and handed her the gloves.

He looked pale, exhausted and agitated. From where Matilda sat during meals, she could see that he hadn't eaten much at all since Sunday. His guardians had taken to shooting Matilda and Blaise furious, accusatory looks every chance they got and otherwise shamelessly coddled the boy.

It appeared that they hadn't been informed as to the situation back at the Parkinson household. This was good, as it was really none of their business.

"My apologies, Professor Sprout," said a low, droning voice from the doorway. "The Headmaster would like to see a few of your students."

"Oh, of course, Severus," she replied affably. "Which ones?"

"Miss Malfoy, Mr. Zabini, and Mr. Potter."

Every head on the Gryffindor side of the table spun around to stare, open-mouthed with shock, as Harry jumped up and ran over to the doorway. The pair of Slytherins joined him quickly, thankful to get away from the hideous plant and its poisonous discharge.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked enthusiastically once outside, a flush mercifully touching his pallid face. "Dumbledore's office?"

"Obviously," snapped Snape.

"Is Draco back?" Matilda called from where she was lagging behind. As hard as she had been trying, the image of her cousin's head crashing into the corner of the nightstand had been burned into her brain, and she was having a difficult time dealing with this situation as superficially as she would have preferred.

"I think you will find that questions of that nature may be better suited for more private locations, Matilda."

The private location in question was in reality packed with a loud group of strangers, each of them chatting amiably with one another and drinking tea. That blue-haired Tonks was there, engaged in a particularly excited conversation with a black-haired, pink-cheeked witch. A tall, bald headed black wizard with a single gold loop earring was leaning comfortably against the wall and laughing at something a smaller, silver-haired man had said. Nearby, a rather scarred and scruffy looking wizard with a magic eye nudged Dumbledore and pointed to Matilda.

Snape cleared his throat. "I've brought them," he said importantly and left.

"Ah, Harry!" said the scarred wizard. "How've you been?"

"I've, er, fine," he replied dazedly. "What are all of you doing here, Moody?"

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks called out and pushed her way over to him. She grinned and gestured at the crowd of wizards filling the room. "Remember the Advance Guard that came to get you a couple years ago?" Harry nodded. "Turns out most of us were free to help you out tonight."

"Tonight? What?"

"Too bad it's a full moon, though. Remus would have loved to have been here..."

"She's been doing a bit of surveillance for us," Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing for the three students to follow him farther into the room.

"I like to call it spying," she told him, smiling broadly as she walked with Harry. "But turns out there wasn't much to see; nobody's left at the Parkinson house. Didn't even leave a note for the poor gardener," she added with mock offence, gesturing to herself with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

"You mean they're gone?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed. "But we're certain that they've retreated to Malfoy Manor. There's better security there, and there's really nowhere else for them to have gone."

"The problem is," said the pink-cheeked witch who had just wandered over to stand next to Tonks, "none of us can get through the gates."

"Why are we here, then?" Blaise groaned.

Tonks scowled at him and said, "You don't have to be here at all, if you'd like to leave. It's Matilda we need."

"Need?" Matilda cut in, startled at the prospect of being transformed into some tragically useful Aurors' pawn. "Why do you need me?"

Dumbledore smiled. "The gates of Malfoy Manor will open only for a Malfoy."

"Right," she said. Obviously. "But that Malfoy can only bring one other person with them, and I don't know the spells to keep the gate open for more than one."

"Damn," grumbled Moody.

"It's fine, Alastor," Dumbledore assured him. "We are relying on stealth, and since these three escaped from the Parkinson's without being noticed, I'm sure she can get in and out alone."

"What? No way am I... I'm not going in there alone!" Matilda spluttered, looking around wildly for support. "I'm not the hero with a death wish here!"

"I'll go," Harry offered calmly.

"Not this time, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Matilda is going to have to go in alone, under your Invisibility Cloak. All she has to do is find Draco and Pansy and make sure that the sacrifice is not being prepared."

"It's a full moon, man!" Alastor growled. "Of course it's being prepared tonight. She'll have to get him out of there on her own."

"No, no, no!" she insisted. "I am not going into my uncle's home alone and stealing his son away. Have you not met Lucius? He will kill me."

That was a lie. She had no idea what Lucius would do if she just popped by for a visit, but homicide was not likely. Even so, she didn't want to be the one to ruin all of this if she was wrong. She wasn't a hero, she wasn't Harry Potter, she was frightened and suddenly wanted very much to return to that ailing little pus plant.

Dumbledore nodded pensively. "If I gave you a charm or a spell, do you think you could try to bring down the magic around the gates long enough for the Aurors to get in?"

The eyes of every witch and wizard in the room fell upon her, boring into her, begging her to say that she could do it, that she would do it. "I don't think I have the power," she admitted faintly, and it pained her to do so. "Not enough to break anything that Lucius has cast."

"It's true," Blaise agreed. "Draco says she's practically a Squib."

"Thank you, darling," Matilda snapped, her cheeks glowing mutinously.

"She really does need someone with her to do it."

"That's enough, Blaise."

"Well, you do."

"I think we're all aware of that by now."

"I can do it," Harry offered again. "You all know as well as I do that I can do it."

"He's the only one small enough to fit under the cloak with her," the black wizard noted from his post at the wall. "We're all too tall."

"No, it hid all four of us at Pansy's," Matilda reminded them.

"With our feet showing," Harry added.

"Fine," Dumbledore said reluctantly. "Give me some time and I'll see what I can find."

*

Nearly an hour passed during which he was gone, locked away in some smaller room off of the main one as he dug through towering stacks of parchment and flipped through thick, dusty tomes.

Tonks promptly began explaining sorrowfully and in great detail to Harry the reasons that none of the Weasleys had been able to make it as Harry shrugged and looked understanding.

Blaise had busied himself ruthlessly flirting with the tall, black wizard who looked both flattered and a little alarmed as he was followed around the office by the seventeen-year-old androgen.

Matilda continued to be deeply interrogated by the very frightening Moody, and had been occupied as such for nearly forty-five minutes.

"You're a Slytherin, eh?" he said for the fifth or sixth time by now.

"Yes."

"And a Malfoy."

"Yes."

"Let's see your arm again, then."

"You've seen it five times already."

"One more won't hurt you."

"Ow!"

"Ah-ha! So it is sensitive!"

"When you jab your talons into it! Cut your nails, old man!"

"Alastor, she is no threat," Dumbledore called out to him from the door to the smaller room. He was holding three pieces of parchment casually in one hand and was smiling warmly at everyone in the room.

There was perfect silence as he strolled over to his desk and motioned for Harry and Matilda to join him as he sat down. The adults followed as well and stood in a semi-circle around the seated three.

"What did you find?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Three spells, all of which, I believe, are well within your capability." The headmaster placed one of the three sheets on the desk before him. There was little written on it at all, and only a few basic illustrations of the proper wand movements were scattered around the spidery scrawl. "The first of these will keep the current wards around Malfoy Manor down permanently, but requires nearly all of the power that the wizard possesses. Harry will be rendered unconscious by this one."

"Well, that's no good to us then," Tonks decided. "We need Harry at his best."

Dumbledore nodded and placed another sheet in front of him. This one looked much more complicated and had several rather gory and troubling illustrations alongside the words of the spell itself.

"True," he said neutrally. "The second takes effect immediately, and permanently removes the wards as well. The only problem here is that it requires nearly all of the blood of the wizard to be spilled while the incantation is recited. We need everyone to come out of this alive, especially Harry, so I believe that this one is out of the question as well."

"Why did you bring that one out, then?" Blaise demanded from the back of the crowd. Everyone ignored him as Dumbledore continued.

"The final one will only keep the wards down for exactly thirty minutes, and takes an additional thirty to take effect. It is a simple incantation and does not require Harry to ritually bleed to death."

"That would be kind of ironic," Matilda muttered. Harry glared at her. "It would," she insisted.

Dumbledore coughed meaningfully. "What you have to decide, Harry, is if you are willing to drain nearly all of your magic, and then have us go in there after you. Or, if not, then we all have to decide if we would rather wait thirty minutes and then take our chances in hopes that another thirty will be enough time in which to save Draco and prevent the sacrifice."

"I don't want to go in there defenceless," Harry told him.

"I'll be there," Matilda pointed out argumentatively.

"Yeah," said Blaise, "I don't think he should go in there defenceless."

Dumbledore smiled and handed Harry the final piece of parchment. "Then it will be the third spell. Excellent, we will leave during dinner."

***

This was not the basement of Malfoy Manor as Pansy remembered it. She reasoned that this was because she had never actually ventured down there in reality, but all throughout childhood she had maintained a vision of dank cells and hay-covered floors, the sounds of dripping water mingled with the cries of the damned. They called this place 'The Dungeons' after all, so very Slytherin of them.

"This isn't very dungeon-like, Draco," she said, careful to keep her tone light.

"We can't be expected to maintain an actual dungeon beneath our home, Pansy," he replied acidly, glancing up from the large book that he held in his lap as he sat cross-legged in an overstuffed armchair. A corona of pure rage seemed to have settled itself around him, his very appearance fogged by his anger. "That is beyond illegal. It used to be a dungeon, six or seven generations ago. This was the waiting room, anyway."

"Waiting room?"

"The families of those about to be executed had to wait somewhere. Obviously." His tone was halting and drew the conversation to an abrupt close.

Pansy sighed. She could see their friendship bursting into flames before her eyes and she unconsciously turned to stare at the fire in the large, curved hearth to her left.

This room was perfectly round and devoid of windows, with a single door behind her that was sealed with the most complex set of wards she had ever felt. If she moved too close to them, it gave her a sensation similar to that of two magnets placed pole-to-pole, one forcing the other away. It was pleasant and she had smiled as she bounced off of the magic, feeling it coil around her and seep through her tingling skin and then push her gently away. But then Draco had scowled at her and she had taken a seat across from him.

She was going to be obedient today.

She was going to win his trust.

"Draco?" she asked timidly. "Why are we down here?"

"Why don't you tell me, Death Eater?"

"I already told you-"

"Lies."

"No!"

"I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

"Apparently..." She trailed off; her words were not going to be the sort that mend broken friendships and regain trust.

Apparently he was far more stupid than she had ever thought. If this was in fact the Draco she knew, he would be up and pacing, running his hands over the walls, tilting books, tapping bricks, anything to find a way to escape and prevent Harry's arrival.

"What are you reading?" she asked instead.

"The Manor designs, obviously," he said. "How the hell else am I supposed to get out of here and stop Harry?"

Well that solved that problem. "So you've found a way out then?"

"Yes, and they're all on the main level. I like to call them doors, Pansy. An increasing number of houses are equipped with them these days." He fiercely rubbed dust out of his eyes as he spoke and grimly added, "We can't get out of this room."

"We can when your father removes the wards. After that we can get out of here."

Draco slammed the book shut, another cloud of dust flying out from it and settling around him. "Right, of course. He'll just stroll in here and ask us if we'd like to take a walk. Then we can just run out the front gates."

Pansy could feel her restraint begin to slip away as that improvident little boy sneered at her. "Do you have a better idea, you useless ass?" she snarled. "Do you know how hard I've been working to prevent this for the past ten months?"

Draco snorted derisively. "Well, I apologise if I'm ruining this for you."

"Do you even hear the words that are coming out of your mouth? Have you no concept of what it is that I've been doing for you? You just sneak into my house and demand to know why your father's there and expect everything to sort itself back out. Well he's home, Draco. He's home and he's locked you in the dungeons so that Harry fucking Potter will come to save his little Slytherin Prince. Then Lucius can do his job and ship him off to the Dark Lord. I'm sure all of this is difficult for you to grasp, as you are very much an only child, but this really has nothing to do with you. It isn't you who is about to be murdered. So if you have any desire whatsoever to help Potter survive this, you'll swallow your pride and work with me." She was suddenly and completely out of breath and slumped back into her chair. "I really couldn't give a shit if he lives or dies."

Draco eyes were wide. "You're lying. You're a Death Eater. All of you want to kill him, you want him to die."

"I already told you, I didn't have a choice about it."

"That's what Mother always says," he muttered. It appeared as if his arguments had fizzled out following her tirade. He picked dirt out from under his nails and looked deep in thought. "She's in France, you know. Looking for Father."

Marvellous. She'd lost him now.

"She's always saying that she didn't have a choice about becoming a Death Eater, she had to do it for her family and for him. She resents him for it; did you know that? She hates that she was made a slave just because he was. That's the word she uses, too. Slave..."

"Yes?" she said. There was really no other way to respond to that.

Draco continued in low, miserable tones. "I wasn't going to become one, and neither were you. And we were going to grow up and you and Blaise and I were going to live in the same city and wear designer robes and have scandalous affairs and spend all of our families' money. We were going to wait the war out. Do you remember?"

Pansy nodded. She did remember. It was the pact they had made in fourth year after the Triwizard Tournament and the return of the Dark Lord.

"It's all ruined now," he said. "There's no going back."

"Because of this?" She pointed helplessly to the Mark hidden beneath the sleeves of her nightgown, the absurdity of this action lost to her at the moment.

Draco shrugged, still scrutinizing his fingernails.

"Because of Harry?"

"What?"

"Because you fell in love with the boy who was born to destroy us all?"

"I'm not in love," he corrected her.

Liar, she thought.

"And he was born to destroy the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters."

"And you're not one of them."

"But you are. And I'm next, for all I know."

"You're being stupid, you're not next unless you want to be."

"You said you didn't have a choice."

"This is all different. You know that."

Draco shook his head. "I'm going to end up like my mother."

"I don't think you will," she told him honestly. "You were looking through that book just now and searching for a way out of here. You were defying your father without even thinking about it, like it's second nature."

"What? No, I was just..." Draco fell back into thought and stared down at the massive text on his lap. He didn't seem to have realised that what he had been doing went directly against his father's wishes. "I was... I'm not. I just wanted to warn... It's-"

A soft chiming sound interrupted him as it filled the room and the wards suddenly became visible. They hovered over the door like a thick, silver mist, specks of light floating through it like dust in the sunlight.

"What's going on, Draco?"

"Someone's at the gates," he answered curiously. "Someone's here."

"Really," said Pansy. "I would have thought he'd have waited until dark."

Draco got up and stood as close to the wards as he could without being forced away. He squinted through the fog and the tiny lights, the colour rising in his cheeks as his breath quickened. "I can't see out there. It can't be him. This is the Guest Chime, this isn't what happens when there's an intruder."

"Guest? Why would your father have guests now?"

Draco shrugged and continued squinting through the wards "I don't know. I can't see anything... wait, someone's coming."

"Step back, Draco dear," Pamela said from the other side. "I'm letting you out."

Draco backed away. "There's a nice Death Eater," he muttered under his breath.

The wards came down with a few whispered syllables and a wave of a wand. Pansy's mother stood on the other side, grinning toothily at the both of them. She was fully clad in a black cloak, the hood thrown back over her shoulders to reveal her blond hair and the pink ribbon that held it back from her face.

"Come on, out you go," she said kindly.

Draco and Pansy were lead silently down a long corridor and then into another round chamber, the chiming sounds growing louder as they neared the centre of the mansion.

This room did not have a fire at all and its walls were grey, unadorned stone, as was the floor. There was a large stage in the centre of everything with a tall, black podium placed in the middle. A large matching cauldron stood next to it, and leaning against this was one long sword with a single matching dagger on either side. A mahogany table stretched from the stage nearly to the door, and was lined with seven pewter goblets.

Other than the three people in the doorway, the room was completely empty.

"I'm sorry, Pansy," Pamela said. "I didn't have time to get you a hooded cloak. You'll just have to wear that for the ceremony."

"What ceremony, initiation?" She raised a worried eyebrow. "Not wedding."

Pamela smiled. "Don't be silly," she said, turning to walk toward the stage. "There are much bigger things planned for tonight. But, tell me, dear. What do you think of Blaise Zabini for a husband? He has such wonderful taste in everything."

Pansy blushed. "But you were asking me just the other day about... About someone else." She was feeling the onset of full panic now, but, standing in that massive room full of weaponry and her deranged mother, there appeared to be enough room for humiliation on top of it.

Draco looked alarmed as he stared at the sparkling sword and the pair of daggers on the stage. He appeared to be sweating.

Pamela had busied herself placing the knives at perfectly identical angles as they leaned in toward the longer blade between them. "New plan," she told Pansy simply. "I wasn't at all sure that any of this was going to work out, but it's just running so smoothly. There, what do you think, symmetrical?"

Neither of them nodded.

Draco twitched slightly and grew ashen as Pamela motioned for them to take a seat on the stage.

"We have a little while still," she announced. "The sun has to set just yet. Make yourselves comfortable. I'm going to pop upstairs for a bit."

***

It seemed as though both Ron and Hermione had suddenly developed tremendous psychic abilities as they frowned down at Blaise and Matilda at the dinner table. It must have been through some uniquely accurate feat of divination that they came to hear of the goings on between their resident hero and the three Slytherins, for Harry would never have been thick enough to let on about the situation to them.

His face gave him away as he stood between his friends, looking grave and guilty.

"We're going to Dumbledore's office now," Ron announced.

"Well I'm just thrilled for you," said Matilda.

"With you," Hermione added.

Blaise dropped his knife and fork loudly onto his plate and looked greatly piqued. "Is it really that difficult for you to keep anything to yourself, Potter? You know they won't be allowed to go with you and Matty."

Harry glared at him and took off for the doors. His tiny flock followed suit and Matilda sighed at her friend as she watched him watch Harry leave.

"What? He shouldn't go advertising this all around the school."

"What is his appeal?" she demanded as she stood up. "Really, I'd like to know. Do you even try to look like you're not ogling him?"

Blaise laughed. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Matty."

*

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Harry."

As they clambered up yet another steep hill, this one leading to the fortification around Malfoy Manor, Harry looked almost content with his surroundings. Although he was visibly trembling, he smiled weakly at his puzzled companion and thrust his fists deep into his pockets. "I mean," he explained, "the weather is quite nice. For walking at least."

Of course, this was the perfect time for a chat about the weather.

"Uh huh," said Matilda. "You know, I'm actually getting quite tired of all of this walking, nice weather or no. There are far too many wards around properties these days. It's like no one trusts anybody anymore."

"Don't you have wards around your property?"

"Of course. I'm a Malfoy."

"Doesn't that make you a huge hypocrite, then?"

"Of course. I'm a Malfoy."

Harry eyed her strangely as they stopped before a monstrous wall of stone. "Where are the gates?" he asked.

Matilda sighed. "These are the gates. Pull your wand out."

Harry hesitated, still eyeing the enormous obstacle.

"Out! And put it in the hole on the right hand side."

Again, Harry just gave her an odd, confused look.

Matilda grabbed him roughly by the sleeve of his robes and dragged him over to the wall. There, in between two massive rectangles carved into the slate face, were two small holes. "Put your wand in there and the gate on the right will open if the wand on the left belongs to a Malfoy. And yes, this was designed with wands as phallic symbols in mind. We're Malfoys."

Something seemed to click in Harry's mind, but it did not appear to concern the mechanics of entering the grounds when he took a few moments before asking, "Won't Lucius know it's mine?" He pulled his wand out of his pocket and held it up as if to illustrate to her that in his understanding it glowed red and gold and sent sparks up into the sky that spelled out his own name.

"No. It's a wall, Harry. I don't know how many times you've spoken with my uncle, but last time I checked he wasn't thirty feet high and made of stone. Now hurry the hell up."

"You would think that you'd be civil with someone who's about to rescue your cousin for you."

Matilda grunted. "Like you're not concerned for Draco in the slightest. And I haven't mentioned your hair at all, if you haven't noticed."

Harry unconsciously raised a hand to his head and patted the untamed mop as it danced riotously in the wind. "What about my hair?"

"This is neither the time nor the place. We have to get in there, the sun's setting."

"I know that!" Harry glanced around a few more times. "Tell me what to do."

"Stick it in the right hand slot after I put mine in the left," she explained slowly. "Then the gates will open. Following that you will disable the wards and save the day. I can only hope that you think more clearly under extreme pressure."

Harry scowled at her and waited quietly as she demonstrated. When she slid the tip of her wand into the small hole on the left, it glowed a bright white and the rectangle next to it became hazy and translucent. Harry followed her lead and in moments they had stepped through the clear portions of the wall and onto the sprawling grounds.

A soft chiming began to sound and Harry jumped as if something had bitten him.

Matilda groaned irately. "Fuck. The Guest Chime."

Harry pulled her over to hide behind a wall of shrubbery and whispered, "The what?"

"I forgot. When the right hand gate is used, that sound goes off until the guests reach to front door."

"Why couldn't I just use your gate as well?"

"You could have, if you really wanted to be trapped in stone for all of eternity." She pointed to what looked like four stone fingers and a shoulder sticking through the wall beside them. "They sort of get shuffled along with each addition. Getting kind of full now, I reckon."

Harry looked somewhat ill as he pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of the backpack that was slung over his shoulder. He threw the fabric around them, stashing the bag beneath the plant. "How long do you think it'll be before they find us?"

Matilda shrugged, completely resigned to the idea that they were to be thwarted at any moment. "Could be hours," she lied. "There are gates like this all around the property; they'll have to check them all. Of course, the Aurors might be found."

"They can handle themselves," Harry said as confidently as he could manage.

"What about Ron and Hermione? And Blaise?"

He lifted his chin to give an appearance of composure, but his shaking voice revealed his misgivings. "Dumbledore's with them. They'll be safe."

"So will we, we're invisible," Matilda added reassuringly, slipping her wand back into her robes. "It'll be quite a walk up to the mansion, but you won't mind. It's such a lovely day, after all."

Harry's shoulders loosened and fell and he seemed to relax somewhat. "You're just like your cousin."

"Save it for later, love; we've a big night ahead of us. Cast that spell thing on the wards and let's get going."

"I'll need the Cloak," Harry told her.

"No you won't."

"Yes, I will. I'm the one that's going to be standing out in the open and shouting an incantation."

"Yes, but I'm sure you'll be fine. I'll just wait here, away from mortal peril. That's really how I prefer to spend my time."

"Hide behind the shrubbery," Harry instructed and pulled the Cloak off of Matilda as he walked back over to the wall.

"Fine!" she called after him. "But if I die, it's on your conscience."

Harry ignored her.

Matilda didn't like not being able to see him and was quite certain that he was taking this opportunity to make obscene hand gestures at her. However, she was rather satisfied with the ease by which she had been able to mollify him.

There was a clap of thunder. "Pathetic fallacy," she muttered bitterly as she looked up to the quickly darkening sky. She was surprised to notice that there appeared to be quite a few people up there. "Those wouldn't be the Hags, now, would they, Harry?" she asked, pointing to the seven cloaked witches flying high overhead on ancient-looking broomsticks.

"I think so," said the invisible boy by the wall.

"Well, shit."