The Power of Three

Chapter Four

Harry and Hermione hurried back to Hogwarts early the next morning. They rushed up the stairs to the hospital wing. Poppy listened to Hermione explain what had happened before she shooed Harry away so that she could examine Hermione. He decided to go down to breakfast. The great hall was still fairly empty with just a few students scattered about. Tiny Professor Flitwick sat by himself at the head table reading intently. Harry took his seat and food appeared on his plate. He didn’t really feel hungry though, so he just sat pushing his food around his plate absently. As students began to trickle in rumours began to spread like wildfire. Hermione didn’t show up for breakfast at all and Harry went off to teach his first class nervously.

Hermione arrived in Greenhouse Two several minutes late for class, which startled her second year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs (Hermione was never late), but what surprised them even more was that she was wearing Muggle makeup! There was, of course, witch makeup, but they had never bothered to develop concealers since charms or potions were nearly always used for that purpose. None of the charms had worked to remove the marks on Hermione’s face, however, so she had dug out a makeup kit that her grandmother had given her once and used it for only the second time in her life. Poppy had been extremely distraught when nothing worked to remove the slap mark on her face and the purple bruises and scratches that had mysteriously appeared on her body after the dream. Hermione dreaded what Harry would do when he found out that the bruises couldn’t be removed.

Her students stared at her in disbelief as she stood before them. A girl’s hand shot up.

“Yes, Gwendolyn?” Hermione asked, hoping that she wouldn’t ask about the makeup but knowing that she would.

“Why are you wearing makeup?” the girl asked.

“I’ve been doing some work where I needed to look like a Muggle. Don’t ask what it is though because I can’t tell you anything about it.”

Whispering started immediately.

“Alright,” Hermione said, raising her voice. “You can speculate while you work. Today you are going to be working with Silvia Divinorum. They need to be handled carefully because they are rare and delicate plants. We need to carefully harvest the leaves. Leave at least ten leaves on each plant. This is how you remove the leaves,” she demonstrated. “Now split into groups of three. Each group can take one tray. If there are any problems, I will rearrange the groups, so work with people with whom you aren’t likely to get into trouble. If you are having any trouble with your plant, call me over. One more thing, it’s very important that you don’t remove any of the blossoms. If you do, call me over immediately. Alright, you may begin.”

Hermione walked around watching them, but her mind kept wandering back to the dream. What had it meant? Was it a premonition? Had it really happened? She certainly had all the bruises, marks and sore spots to suggest that it had. Was someone manipulating her dreams? It seemed like that must be the case, but she couldn’t imagine who had the power to do that at the moment. And even more worrisome was the fact that Poppy had been able to do nothing about any of the bruises or marks. Normally those kinds of things were quite easy to remove. What did it mean? What if it happened again and she died in the dream? Would she really die? And Harry was going to be extremely upset. She knew that he was already more upset than he would tell her. What would he do now?

Someone suddenly screamed. Hermione whirled around and inwardly groaned at the sight before her. At the last tray a Hufflepuff boy was standing covered in white powdering pollen with a silly grin plastered across his face. Two other students were pressed against the wall staring at the boy fearfully. She made her way over to the boy covered in pollen. A purplish blossom lay at his feet.

“Alright,” Hermione said, raising her voice again so that the students would all pay attention, “I want you to put all of your baskets down and go back to your common rooms. If you got any pollen on you or are feeling light-headed or otherwise strangely dreamy, come and see me right away.”

The students all put their baskets down and left chattering loudly. Five students remained, the boy covered in pollen, the two others who had been working at his tray, and two of the students from the tray next to them. Hermione surveyed them, and then waved her had and murmured something. The pollen all disappeared.

“Now you all need to come with me to the hospital wing.”

“But Professor Granger,” said a Ravenclaw boy nervously, “we can’t be late for our next lesson!”

“It will only take a few minutes,” Hermione assured him. “You won’t be late.”

Hermione took the hand of the boy who had been covered in pollen and began walking towards the castle. The boy walked next to her as if in a trance while the other four students followed cautiously. She led them through the castle corridors to the hospital wing. On the way she passed by the open door to Harry’s classroom. He saw her and silently called out to her.

*Hermione, where are you going?*

*The hospital wing. We had a bit of an accident in Herbology. I’ll tell you about it later.*

Hermione pushed the door open and found Poppy bustling about cleaning up.

“Poppy, I have some students her who were exposed to some Salvia Divinorum pollen.”

“At least that is easily remedied,” Poppy replied shaking her head as she looked that the boy whose hand Hermione was holding.

“I’ll leave them in your capable hands then,” Hermione said sweetly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Of course. Have a good day, Hermione.”

“You too.”

Hermione left the hospital wing and made her way back to Greenhouse Two to gather up all of the baskets. She didn’t want to walk past Harry’s classroom again, so she quietly slipped into one of the secret passages in the castle. When she got to the greenhouse, she looked around. At least there wasn’t much of a mess to clean up. She reached down to get the baskets nearest her and gasped as pain shot up her sore thighs. She sat down on the ground and let tears fall down her cheeks and spill onto the ground.

Harry’s first class that morning was the sixth year Griffindors. He was discussing how to deal with poltergeists with them, but his mind was having trouble staying on topic. It kept wondering down towards his best friend, the woman who had won the heart of the Boy Who Lived. He was itching to go and find her. She hadn’t shown up for breakfast and he wanted to know why. He knew that Poppy could deal with bruises easily and quickly, so he wanted to know what had made it take so long. His eyes kept returning to the window, which overlooked the greenhouses. He didn’t know if she was down there or not, but he liked that he could see them from his window.

“Professor Potter,” a girl asked, bringing him back from the wandering thoughts in his head, “what happens if one does not construct a strong enough rete?”

“Then the poltergeist will not be bound,” Harry replied, turning back to his class. “It’s very important to make sure that he is bound because they can be so dangerous.”

“Where are they found normally?”

“As I said, they like old places. There are many of them found in Britain and the rest of Europe, but not so many in the United States. Castles are particular favourites of theirs.”

“Are we going to try binding a poltergeist at some point?” another boy inquired.

“I hope so. I’ve asked for permission for us to practice on Peeves. He’s not terribly dangerous, but he’s good for practice.”

Harry’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw Hermione walk by his door quickly with a group of students. He asked her where she was going and she had assured him that it was just a Herbology accident. It almost seemed like she had been trying to hide her face from him, but he thought that he must have imagined it. She had just been concerned about her students, right? Of course she was. She wasn’t avoiding him. He sighed and turned back to his students.

As his class filed out the door Harry let his mind wander back to Hermione and her dream. The whole thing made him extremely angry. He was determined to find out who exactly was manipulating Hermione’s dreams and how they were harming her. He was also forming a plan for protecting her against it happening again, and perhaps finding out more about her attacker at the same time. Harry was not a man who got angry easily. Certain things, however, could easily trigger his anger. An attack on Hermione was one of those triggers. He knew that his anger had to be focused before it could be useful, otherwise it would hinder him.

After taking a few moments to himself, Harry got up and went to the library. He wound his way through the shelves to the restricted section in the back. He had spent enough time looking through the rows of books his last few years of being a student that he could go exactly to the section he wanted. He pulled a large, dusty book off the shelf and looked through it to make sure that it was the one he wanted, then he carried it back out into the main part of the library. He sat down at an empty table and began looking through the book.

~

Ron sat in his office at the main Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes office in Diagon Alley trying to read through a report, but sleep was fighting hard to cover his eyes. He had been up extremely late trying to reassure Harry and Hermione that they could figure out something to do about the dreams. The trouble was that he wasn’t convinced of that himself. They had done a lot of research on dreams when Voldemort had been manipulating Harry’s dreams through their sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and come up with very little. It was a fairly easy matter to manipulate dreams if you had enough power and knew what you were doing; in fact it was similar to obliviating memories. The problem was, that there was no really effective way of countering it. The best that they had been able to do was to have someone else (Ron, Hermione, Sirius, or Dumbledore) also enter Harry’s dreams each night to help him fight back. It was hardly an ideal situation when Voldemort could control the dream so that Harry was without his magical powers. Even Dumbledore had some trouble fighting Voldemort and dozens of his Death Eaters in the dream environment he had created. It was hard to fight successfully when reality was obeying Voldemort’s rules. They could easily do the same for Hermione. What worried Ron the most was the way Hermione’s dream had physically hurt her in real life. He couldn’t remember ever reading anything that talked about that happening, or even being possible, much less how to counter it. He knew that Harry would stop at nothing to find a solution. What he worried about was what would happen if there weren’t one.

Ron thought about his two best friends. They seemed so happy together. He had suspected for a long time that they would end up together, but that didn’t make it any easier for him. Ron didn’t begrudge his friends their happiness, but he was terribly envious. He had done a bit of dating, but none of the women had ever worked out. He had been on many a first date, but only a handful of second dates and once had he had more dates than that with someone. The woman that he had been on the most dates with was Lavender Brown. He had an odd relationship with her. They dated once or twice each time he was back in Britain, but it had never been serious. They just enjoyed each other’s company. Part of the reason that he had so much trouble dating was that he was Ron Weasley. Everyone knew his name. Everyone knew that he was one of the most powerful wizards in the world. It made dating very difficult because most women only wanted to date him because he was famous, none of them ever saw past that. That’s why it was easy to date Lavender, she saw him as himself because she had known him before he had gotten the power and helped to defeat Voldemort. Part of him wanted to hate Harry and Hermione for the love and happiness that they had found, but he knew that he could never do it. Their friendship had been through far too much to fall apart so easily. And he was happy for them. God knows that they deserved a little happiness after everything that they had gone through, especially Harry. During their last confrontation with Voldemort, Harry and literally walked into hell and back. He had been changed forever that night, and try as he might, Ron and Hermione could never really understand what Harry had gone through. Now he seemed better, more like old self again, and Ron didn’t doubt that Hermione had played a big part in that.

A knock on the door started Ron out of his musings and back to his office and the unread report on the desk before him.

“Come in!” he called.

The door opened and Fred and George stuck their heads into the room.

“Hey Ron,” Fred said as he bounded into the room. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Sorry, Fred,” Ron said with a half-smile, “but you just aren’t my type.”

“Oh,” Fred said, looking crestfallen, “and I so had my heart set on it!”

“I’d run for it Ron,” George said with a bemused tone of voice, “he’s playing matchmaker again.”

Ron groaned.

“No, I’m sorry Fred, but I am not going to trust you setting me up on a blind date ever again!”

“Oh, come on!” Fred pleaded. “Last time wasn’t so bad!”

“Yes it was!”

“Hey, Denise was a perfectly sweet, beautiful girl!”

“I’m not disputing that she was sweet or that she was beautiful, it’s just that she had nothing else to offer!”

“There was nothing wrong with her.”

“No, as long as you had no interest in conversation she was perfect! Fred, her working brain cells could have taken refuge in the shadow of a chick-pea!”

George started laughing.

“Fred, I appreciate that you want to find me a girl, but please stop! I can’t go on a date tonight anyway.”

“Why not?” Fred asked curiously.

“You are as bad as Parvati, Fred!”

This made George laugh even harder.

“But if you must know,” Ron continued, “I have to go up to Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” Fred said, sounding slightly disappointed that Ron’s reason for not going on a date was not juicier.

“Come on Fred,” George said, still stifling laughter, “Let’s leave Ron alone. Something is obviously bothering him and I think that we should give him some time alone. Ron, if you need anything we can help with, or even just someone to talk to, come find us. We’ll be around.”

“Thanks, George,” Ron said as they left.

Once the door had clicked shut behind them Ron stood up and walked over to look out of the window. He could see Diagon Alley was crowded. Below his window four little boys were looking through a shopping bag excitedly. A woman holding a baby and several parcels walked up them. One of the boys showed her something from the bag and a scowl crossed her face. She began scolding them and snatched the bag away, but Ron saw one of the boys slip something into his pockets. Ron laughed. He wondered how often similar scenes took place in from of the shop. It reminded him of home and how his mother used to be horribly upset with Fred and George every time they played jokes on people. Sometimes he really missed those people.

With a sigh Ron turned back to his desk and the unread report.

~

When Hermione’s second class left to return to the building for lunch she hurriedly cleaned up the greenhouse and hurried into the castle. She made her way through the corridors to the staff room. Professor Binns was floating near one of the windows looking outside. She walked up to him and he turned to look at her.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a nod.

“Good afternoon, Professor Binns,” she replied respectfully. She had a very different relationship with the other professors than she had with Professor Binns. The others treated her as an equal among them, but Professor Binns didn’t treat her any differently than he had when she was a student (except that he had learned her name now). “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

He floated over and hovered above the seat of one of the chairs near the fire. Hermione took the other seat.

“I’m wondering about the nature of the relationships among the founders.”

Professor Binns frowned.

“Well, Helga Hufflepuff was the only one who never became involved with any of the others. We know that Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Griffindor were married. Before they were married there was some kind of a break between Griffindor and Slythrin over Ravenclaw. The story, which remains unconfirmed, says that Slythrin greatly desired Ravenclaw, but she did not return it and so she kept turning him down. He flew into a rage and raped Ravenclaw. Afterwards, Griffindor became enraged and told Slythrin to leave. Slythrin and been planning on leaving anyway and finally did so. Ravenclaw married Griffindor shortly after and had several children together. What we can confirm is simply that Ravenclaw and Griffindor were really married and had several children, but then the rest of it is unconfirmed.”

“Thank you, Professor Binns,” Hermione said respectfully. “I must go and get some lunch.”

“Have a good afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

Hermione walked down to the kitchens. The house elves gave her some of the wonderful food that they had made for lunch. She took it back to her office and ate as she contemplated the story that Professor Binns had told her. What if she really did have some connection to Rowena Ravenclaw? What if Salizar Slythrin really had come back to relive the past? What if he was trying to rewrite the story with a different ending? They had known that Voldemort had wanted to bring back Slythrin, but they had never found any evidence that he had succeeded.

The story was a strange one. There were so many questions that came out of it. Why had Slythrin been able to overpower Ravenclaw? There was no indication that he had any more power than her. Had Godric and Rowena actually been in a relationship before Slythrin raped her or did that come later? Hermione wanted to find out as much as possible about Griffindor and Ravenclaw and their children. She wondered if somehow she was descended from them even though she was muggle-born. She also wondered if she simply looked very much like Rowena and was not related to her at all. Perhaps there was a painting of her somewhere. Of the four founders she had only ever seen a painting of one of them. There was a painting of Salizar Slythrin hanging in the Slythrin common room that she had seen a couple of times as a student.

Hermione pulled a scroll of parchment and a quill out of her desk and began to write a letter. She sent it off with an owl from the owlry before going to teach her next class.

~

Harry soon became so involved in the book that he was reading that he lost track of time. When he finally looked up the library was almost empty. It must be lunchtime. He shut the book and carried it back to his office, then headed off to lunch. As he walked into the Great Hall he saw immediately that Hermione wasn’t there. He wondered where she was. Harry ate as quickly as he could and went to find her, but he only had a few minutes before he had to teach another class. He checked her office, but she wasn’t there. He had to use a couple of secret passages to get to his class on time.

“Good afternoon,” he murmured as he hurried into his classroom. He had the fourth year Ravenclaws. They waited expectantly for him to begin lecturing. He started by taking a jar of spiders out of his desk. They reminded him of Ron and he smiled a little bit.

“Today we are going to begin studying the Unforgivable Curses,” Harry began, sitting on the front of his desk. “Can someone tell me what they are?”

Only a few hands were raised. He pointed to a boy in the front row.

“The Crutiatus curse,” the boy said tentatively.

“Very good. We can start with the Crutiatus. Alright, the Crutiatus was designed to allow the caster to torture the victim without actually having to touch him. The victim is full of intense physical pain that does not let up until the caster wishes it to. Are there any questions so far?”

No one raised their hand or spoke.

“I’m going to cast the Crutiatus on a spider so that you can see what it looks like. Is there anyone who doesn’t want to see this demonstration?”

A few people raised their hands.

“Very well. You may leave the classroom, but come and see me before the end of the day so that I can give you a short extra assignment.”

Only one girl got up and left the room.

Harry engorged one of the spiders and cast the Crutiatus on it. He let it writhe around on his desk for a minute or so and then removed the curse, shrunk the spider to it normal size and dropped it back into the jar.

“Are there any questions at this point?”

“Why would anyone want to cast that on a person, Professor Potter?” a boy asked.

Harry sighed.

“That’s a difficult question. This curse is used by dark wizards to torture people that they don’t like or see as dangerous to their cause. It has driven many wizards and witches crazy. Dark wizards, particularly Voldemort,” (the students all gasped at the name and many started to look around fearfully) “like to use it to make sure that people don’t forget how powerful they are.”

A girl raised her hand and Harry nodded at her to speak.

“Do you know anyone who has had the Crutiatus curse cast on them?”

Harry hesitated as painful memories began to wash over him.

“Yes,” he finally said quietly. “I do. I had a friend whose parents had been driven crazy because of it. When we were fighting Voldemort” (the class reacted again, but Harry was too busy staring at his hands to notice) “he cast the curse on both Hermione Granger and I.”

Memories swirled around him as he remembered that horrible event. His class sat staring at him in surprise. When he finally looked up at them, he saw their faces full of shocked sympathy. One girl near the back even had tears in her eyes. Harry took a deep breath and spoke again.

“Are there any more questions?”

One boy nervously raised his hand.

“Go ahead,” Harry urged.

“What… what did it feel like?”

“It’s difficult to accurately describe. Every part of my body felt like every painful thing that could be done to me was being done. My scar was burning so badly that I couldn’t even think.”

“How did you make it stop?” a boy asked.

“I didn’t. The first time he just stopped it when he felt like it. The second time Ron Weasley was able to make Voldemort stop. I was pretty powerless because I was in so much pain. Are there any more questions?”

No one spoke or raised their hand, so Harry decided to move on.

“Alright, now that you know what it is, let’s go on to what you can do about it. We have developed a counter to the Crutiatus curse. I’m going to teach it to you, but you probably don’t have enough power to make it work on humans.” He took a spider out of the jar and engorged it. “The nice thing about this counter curse is that anyone can perform it, not just the victim. So today I’m going to bring in someone to help me, since the person who casts it can’t really be the one who counters it. Come on in Draco!”

Draco Malfoy came into the classroom and looked around. He smiled as he saw the tanks and cages holding magical creatures that lined the walls.

“I see you’re taking cues from Lupin as well as Moody, Potter,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

Harry smiled.

“Two great teachers,” he replied. Then he turned back to his class. “This is Draco Malfoy. He’s going to help me demonstrate the counter curse.”

A girl’s hand went up.

“Yes, Margot?”

“Weren’t you enemies when you were at Hogwarts?”

Harry smiled and glanced at Draco, who was looking embarrassed.

“We greatly disliked each other for the first few years, but by the end of our sixth year we had become allies. He played an important role in defeating Voldemort. Without Draco we may not have managed it, or I might have succeeded, but died.”

“How did you defeat Voldemort, Professor?” a girl asked.

Harry hesitated to answer. He knew that he couldn’t tell his students what had really happened. Only four other people in the world knew what happened that night, and none of them knew everything he had gone through. He had never been able to talk about it, but even if he could he wouldn’t want the people he loved and who loved him to know everything he had seen and experienced.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to his students, “but I don’t really want to discuss it.”

“Why not?” another student asked.

“Because it wasn’t a very pleasant experience for any of us,” Draco said quietly. “It was worse for Harry than any of the rest of us. He’s never told any of us everything that happened.”

None of the students said anything. Some of them stared at Harry or Draco, while others looked at the floor.

“Why don’t we start with today’s lesson?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Harry agreed. He made sure that everyone could clearly see the engorged spider on his desk. “Draco will cast the curse and I will perform the counter curse. Pay close attention to what I do because you will all be trying it later.”

Harry looked at Draco and nodded. Draco took a deep breath and raised his wand.

“Crutio,” he said forcefully. Draco stood straight and tall as he held the curse on the spider. Only Harry saw the tightening around Draco’s eyes and the stiffening of his jaw.

“Proteget,” Harry said with a flourish of his wand. The engorged spider suddenly stopped twitching in pain. “That was the counter curse. I’m going to show it to you once more and then I’ll start teaching it to you.”

Draco raised his wand and cast the curse again.

“Proteget… ah… ah…”

Harry’s voice trailed off and he collapsed to the floor. Draco dropped to his knees next to Harry, his face white as a sheet. Some of the students screamed or rushed forward. The room became extremely loud suddenly.

“Everyone shut up!” Draco suddenly shouted. The students went quiet, staring at him. He began to point to students and shout orders. “You run and get Madam Pomfrey, you get Professor McGonegall.” He scribbled a quick note and handed it to another student. “Take this to Professor Granger as quickly as possible. Don’t tell her anything, just give her the note.” Draco dropped to his knees beside Harry again. “Come on Harry,” he whispered, “wake up.”

The room was silent. Almost no one moved for several long minutes. Suddenly Professor McGonegall rushed into the room.

“Draco, what happened?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly.

McGonegall turned to the students.

“I want you to go to your common room and stay there until either Professor Flitwick or I come and say that you can do otherwise.”

“Yes, Professor McGonegall,” the students muttered as they left the room.

Poppy Pomfrey rushed into the room. She saw Harry on the floor and went to him immediately.

“Now Draco, tell me exactly what happened,” McGonegall instructed. Draco moved aside to give Poppy some room and told McGonegall what had happened.

Just as he finished Hermione showed up. She stepped into the room and stopped as though puzzling over something. After a minute she slowly walked over to where Draco and McGonegall stood. She didn’t speak right away, and both Draco and Professor McGonegall recognized the look on her face to well to risk braking her concentration by saying anything.

“Draco,” Hermione finally said, “Tell me everything that happened, everything you felt, everything you can think of. Slowly.”

“Well, Harry called me into the room and I was amused at the resemblance it bears to when Lupin taught in it. Someone asked about how Harry and I disliked each other in school and Harry assured them that it wasn’t the case anymore. Then they asked about how we defeated Voldemort. He said that he didn’t want to discuss it and when they asked why, I said it was because it had been such a painful experience. It was kind of awkward for a minute so I suggested that we start the lesson. Harry agreed. I cast the Crutiatus curse on that spider, which was hard for me because it reminded me of what my father had thought that I was and wanted me to be. Harry cast the counter and then he told the students that he was going to show it to them once more and then he would start teaching it to them. So I cast the curse again and again he countered it, but just after he said ‘proteget’ he said ‘ah’ a couple of times and collapsed. I was scared and worried. I sent three students out for you two and Madam Pomfrey and waited.”

“Professor McGonegall,” Hermione said as she summoned a quill and some parchment from the desk and the quill began writing on a desk near them, “who is free right now?”

“Professor Trelawny and Professor Sinistra.”

Hermione waved her hand and the note that had just been scribbled disappeared.

“There was a charm performed in this room,” Hermione said as the quill went on to another note. “Either the charm was on the room itself, or something still in it, and it is still in effect or… damn, I wish that Ron were here.”

“Do you know what kind of charm it was?” Draco inquired.

“It feels kind of like a memory charm. Not a charm to forget something, but a charm to remember something, or maybe see something. A powerful one.”

“How do you know that?” Professor McGonegall asked in surprise.

“It’s a power that I learned while fighting Voldemort. Spells leave a trace, like a scent. I can sense it. There’s a flavour to each one, and there are similarities to others of the same kind. For example all spells that deal with memory have a similar flavour. So I can walk into a room and tell you about some of the spells that have recently been performed there. Just please don’t make it known that I can do this.”

“Of course, dear. That is a remarkable talent. It’s a wonder that you can identify anything specific around here!”

“It’s no worse than walking into a kitchen where a grand supper is being prepared. I’ve learned to ignore many scents around here, but some stand out, and I can identify even the ones I’m used to when it’s necessary.”

“I never thought about spells have scents before!”

“Few people have, it seems. But back to the matter at hand, there is still a memory charm in effect here.”

“Could that have been what happened to Harry? He remembered something and it affected him?”

“It’s possible, but I wish that I knew what memory had so much impact on him then.”

Professor Sinistra came into the room with three owls.

“Here you are Hermione,” she said. “I want to know what’s going on, but I’ve got a class starting in ten minutes.”

“Thanks,” Hermione replied as she tied notes to the owl’s legs. “Professor McGonegall, I have a class too. Could you tell them to go to their common rooms or something? I want to see what I can find out about what happened to Harry.”

“Of course. I have to talk to Ravenclaws who were here when it happened as well.”

Professor McGonegall left the room, shutting the door behind her. Hermione finished tying the last letter to the owls and sent them off. Then she turned towards Harry. Madam Pomfrey was still fussing over him.

“Poppy,” Hermione said quietly, “why don’t you go back to the hospital wing now?”

“He hasn’t come to yet,” Poppy protested. “I want to check him when he does.”

“I know. I’ll bring him to the hospital wing when I’m done.”

“Very well.”

When Poppy had left and shut the door behind her Hermione sagged a bit. The air of control she had shown since she walked into the room melted away and left her looking tired and upset.

“Are you alright Hermione?” Draco asked seriously as he walked over to her.

“It’s been a very long, very bad day,” she replied.

“What’s with the makeup?”

Hermione waved her hand past her face and the makeup disappeared. The clear slap marks on her face stood out sharply. Draco’s jaw fell open.

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story. First let’s deal with Harry, then I’ll tell you about it.”

“You’re going into his head, aren’t you?”

“If that’s what you want to call it. You know what to do, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ron told me.”

“I thought he might have. Alright, let’s do this.”

* * * * *

Hermione was suddenly jerked forward through a bright light and found herself standing on top of one of the Hogwarts towers. A man was standing there overlooking the Forbidden Forest. He was tall and muscular with a messy mop of red hair. Light summer robes of emerald green fell from his shoulders and danced around his ankles in the breeze. A sword encrusted with rubies was in his right hand. It had been almost two years since she had seen that sword, and few good memories were connected with it. She began to wonder what exactly she was seeing when after several minutes the man still hadn’t moved. She looked down at the landscape. Hermione realized that she must be atop the staff tower, though she had never been there before. All she saw was the Forbidden Forest and some of the grounds on one side of it. No one was there. Something about it seemed odd to her. Then she realized that Hagrid’s hut was missing. She looked and saw that her greenhouses were gone too.

I wonder when this happened? she thought. It’s certainly not from Harry’s lifetime. Why would someone want him to see this? What am I missing here?

Still the man didn’t move. With frustration Hermione searched the landscape again for a clue. She saw nothing. As she looked back up at him the man ran a hand through his hair and sighed. A smile spread across his face, although its appearance failed to make his look any less troubled. Hermione looked back down and saw that two women had appeared walking near the edge of the forest. One was blond and dressed in red while her companion was brunette and wore blue. Hermione couldn’t make out anything else about them.

* * * * *

Draco sat on the floor of Harry’s classroom cradling Hermione in his lap. He hoped that she was having some luck finding out what had happened to Harry. He was worried about his friends, and he wasn’t the only one. He had spoken to Ginny Weasley, his girlfriend, before he left for Hogwarts that morning and she had said that her brother George had also expressed some concern. This was not the first time that Harry, Hermione and Ron’s friends had become concerned about them. The problem was that the three had created a cone of silence around themselves that their friends had discovered was nearly impossible to penetrate when the three had a problem or were worried. The fact that none of the rest of them had any idea what was going on with the trio certainly suggested that their concerns were founded. Now that he could see Harry and Hermione, Draco suspected that things were worse than any of the rest of them suspected. He knew that at the very least something had happened to Hermione since yesterday. He knew that if Madam Pomfrey had been able to remove the marks on Hermione’s face she would have done it already. Which left the question: how did magic proof marks appear on Hermione’s face?

He sat waiting impatiently for Harry and Hermione to wake up. Draco hated waiting. He had never been any good at it. Ginny was trying to teach him to be more patient, but it was slow going. She had grown up poor in a house full of older brothers, so she was very good at waiting (she was also good at getting in and grabbing what she wanted before anyone got the chance at it). Draco had grown up the only child of a wealthy family, though, so he had rarely had to wait long for anything, and when he had his father had reinforced his impatience with everyone around him. Overcoming that training was hard.

Suddenly a very brief wave of confusion washed over Draco as Hermione jerked in his arms and opened her eyes. She blinked and Draco helped her sit up. She instantly looked to Harry, but he hadn’t shown any signs of waking up yet.

“Is everything alright?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I’m going to try talking to him telepathically and see what happens.”

“Is that a good idea right now?”

“Maybe not, but I’m going to try it anyway.”

“He wouldn’t want you to, you know.”

“I know, but I need to try.”

“Alright.”

Hermione took a deep breath, squeezed Harry’s hand and sent out a thought to him.

*Harry!*

Nothing happened. Hermione waited a moment and then her shoulders fell in disappointment.

*Hermione!*

She jumped at hearing his voice in her head.

*Harry! Are you alright?*

*Yes. I’m somewhat confused, but alright.*

*Harry, what’s going on?*

*I’m working on that. Give me a few more minutes.*

*What?*

*I’ll wake up in a few minutes and then I’ll explain. Don’t join me again, but don’t break physical contact with me either.*

*Are you sure you’re alright?*

*I’m fine.*

Hermione sighed and shifted herself into a more comfortable position.

“I take it he responded?” Draco asked gently.

“Yes, I did. He’ll wake up in a few minutes and he’s fine.”

“Well, that’s good. It makes me less worried about him anyway. So what did you see in his head anyway?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What?”

“It was strange. All I saw was a man standing on the top of one of the Hogwarts towers looking out at the Forbidden Forrest. He seemed very tense, perhaps distraught. And then two women appeared walking on the grounds and he smiled, but it didn’t make him any less tense. And then he turned to walk inside and Harry forced me to break contact.”

“He knew you were there? I thought it didn’t work that way.”

“So did I, but rules like that don’t always apply to Harry.”

“That’s certainly true! Rules of any sort don’t always apply to Harry!”

Hermione laughed a little, but it was a strained laughter with little genuine mirth. Draco reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture.

“I know you’re worried, but he did say he was ok, right?”

Hermione nodded. She was close to tears suddenly.

“Well, then it’ll be alright.”

* * * * *

“Eye of Newt!” Draco almost shouted. The secret door in the wall slid open and he carefully manoeuvred his way into the empty Slythrin common room. He was carrying the unconscious Hermione Granger and was trying not to bump her against the wall, but it was difficult to walk with his sprained ankle, even without her in his arms. She was extremely light, but he was tired, hurt, frustrated and scared, so it scarcely mattered. Ron followed him carrying Harry. The door closed silently behind them. Draco carefully laid Hermione on one of the sofas and collapsed into a chair nearby. Ron settled Harry onto the other sofa and walked wearily over to Draco.

“Let me see your ankle,” Ron instructed.

“Shouldn’t you worry about them first?”

“I’ve done what I can for them for the moment, which isn’t much. Hopefully they’ll wake up soon. Give me your ankle.”

Ron dragged another chair over to face Draco and sat in it. Draco lifted his leg and allowed Ron to put it in his lap.

“I can’t fix it, and this might make it worse in the long run, but I can make it so that you can walk on it as though nothing was wrong and it won’t hurt anymore.”

“Well, that’s all I need right now. I’ll worry about getting fixed when this is over. If I’m still alive, that is.”

“God, I hope we all stay alive.”

“Keeping the three of you alive long enough to win against Voldemort once and for all is the important thing right now. If anything happens to any of you, we won’t have much chance. So don’t worry about me.”

Ron had pulled Draco’s shoe and sock off and was carefully looking at his ankle. He put his hands around the swollen ankle and said something under his breath. Draco felt warmth emanating from them. The warmth seemed to seep through to the bone and the pain was gone. The swelling was gone as well. Ron removed his hands, made sure the ankle was alright and then conjured a bandage and began wrapping the ankle.

“What’s that for?” Draco asked.

“It’s just in case something happens and my spell wears off.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly Hermione murmured and stirred on the sofa. Ron magically taped the bandage in place and hurried over to her.

“Hermione,” he said softly in her ear. “Come on, wake up.”

Ron’s hand was on her shoulder and Draco heard his say something under his breath. Hermione stirred again and slowly opened her eyes.

“Where’s Harry?” she asked softly, as though she was half in a dream.

“He’s here. We’re in the Slythrin common room.”

“Well obviously, Ron,” she said in the impatient I’m-not-stupid voice she had. Slowly she sat up and looked around. Her eyes came to rest Harry’s form unconscious on the other sofa. She stood up too fast and had to grad onto Ron before she fell. He steadied her.

“Maybe you should sit for a minute,” Ron suggested.

“No, I have to check on Harry.”

“There’s nothing we can do for him at the moment.” Ron looked at her and it dawned on him. “No, Hermione, you can’t. We have no idea what’s going on with him right now and we can’t risk it.”

“I need to do this. Maybe there’s something we can do to help him.”

“Joining with him is to dangerous right now!”

“Ron, I have to.”

Ron knew better than to argue with her any more. He followed her over to the other sofa. Hermione looked around for a minute trying to figure out how best to proceed. Finally she walked over to one of the big green velvet chairs that was nearby and tried to pull it, but it was too heavy. Ron saw what she was trying to do and helped her move the chair over next to Harry. Then he sat in it and she sat in his lap and took Harry’s hand. Suddenly she collapsed and Ron cradled her against him.

“What is she doing?” Draco asked coming over to look curiously. She appeared to have fainted, but he knew that couldn’t be the case.

“She’s Joining,” Ron said, obviously thinking it was a bad idea.

“She’s what?”

“Joining. It’s like she stepping into his head. She sees whatever he’s seeing or feeling at the moment. If he’s dreaming, she’s seeing his dreams. If he’s feeling pain, she’s feeling it.”

“She can do that?”

“Yes, she can. It was a power she gained after the Golden Triangle was formed.”

“Can you do it?”

“No, we got different powers.”

“What can you do?”

“Fix your ankle, for one,” Ron said.

“What else?”

Before Ron could answer, Hermione cried out and shuddered in his arms as she came back to herself. A brief grimace crossed Ron’s face, but his arms tightened around her. She dropped Harry’s hand, buried her face in Ron’s chest and dissolved into tears. Draco was taken aback. He had never seen Hermione like this, crying and clinging to someone else. Fear gripped him. What could be going on in Harry’s head that would cause this reaction in Hermione? A moment later Harry stirred and awoke. He turned to Ron and Hermione and held out his arms. Ron gently transferred Hermione into Harry’s lap and sat back down in the chair. Hermione’s clung tightly to Harry as she sobbed. He held her and rocked back and forth slightly as he murmured soothingly into her hair. Ron was looking at them, but he was obviously thinking. Draco felt a brief wave of annoyance. The Golden Triangle allowed the three friends to communicate with each other telepathically. He understood that this was a valuable gift at the moment, but it annoyed him nonetheless. He couldn’t help but feel left out when everyone else in the room was engaged in a silent conversation that he couldn’t even hear. After a few moments Ron suddenly sat up abruptly, his eyes wide open.

“We have to go,” he exclaimed. “Voldemort’s come to.”

“What about her?” Draco asked as Ron stood up and moved towards the door.

“I’ve got her,” Harry said as he scooped her into his arms and stood up. “She’ll be fine by the time we get up there.”

“If you say so…”

* * * * *

Draco shuddered at the memory. That was a glorious day for the world, but one of the worst days of his and his friends’ lives. The danger had been clear and obvious then, although neither she nor Harry ever had told him what was in Harry’s head that day that upset her so much. He had no idea what was going on right now. Every cell in his body was screaming that something was terribly, terribly wrong, but he had no idea what it was. All he knew was that in the past day he had been reminded of the last few days when they were fighting Voldemort way too much.

As Hermione cried and Draco rubbed one hand comfortingly on her back, the door suddenly opened. Ron walked in and shut and locked the door behind him. He came and sat on Hermione’s other side. Without saying anything or letting go of Harry’s hand, she hugged Ron tightly.

Draco watched and felt a pang of hurt that he didn’t have any friends like that. He banished the thought with a shake of his head. Now was not the time to feel sorry for himself.

“What happened?” Ron asked into Hermione’s hair.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, breaking the hug. “There’s a memory spell in this room that’s still active. Can you find what it’s cast on? Is it on the room as a whole?” As she spoke Hermione placed her hand on Ron’s chest.

Ron closed his eyes for a moment and suddenly reached out and touched Harry’s shoulder.

“It’s on Harry.”

“Can you trace it?”

“Give it to me again.”

Ron closed his eyes again. He was obviously concentrating hard.

“Wait,” Ron suddenly said as his eyes snapped open. “Are you sensing something with Harry’s tag on it?”

“Yes, a number of things. It’s his classroom, after all.”

“No, something mixed in with the memory spell.”

“That’s it! What is that?” Ron asked.

“That’s a maintaining spell. It could be linked to anything though. It’s still active, if that helps.”

“It’s on himself.”

“What?”

“I think that he’s maintaining the memory spell.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I was trying to figure it out,” Harry said calmly as he opened his eyes. He startled all of them. Harry dropped Hermione’s hand and sat up. He hugged her and kissed her gently. He broke the embrace, but their hands remained linked.

“Trying to figure what out?” Ron asked.

“It was a memory spell, but they weren’t my memories,” he said matter-of-factly. He turned to Hermione. “I’m sure you realized that.”

She nodded.

“Why did you push me away? Perhaps I could have helped you!”

Harry sighed and slowly stood up. He ran his fingers through his hair and began walking towards the window. Ron, Draco and Hermione stood up and watched him, waiting for an answer.

“There were things in there that I didn’t want you to have to watch,” Harry finally said without turning back to them.

“Like what?” Hermione asked.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Harry said after another pause. He turned back to look at them. “I’m sure Draco is thoroughly confused by now.” Suddenly he stopped. He was staring at Hermione’s face.

“I know,” she said quietly. “We couldn’t heal them.”

Harry’s heart seemed to break at the admission.

“All of them?” he asked, seeming to dread the answer.

“All of them,” she confirmed in barely a whisper.

Harry looked like he might start crying himself. Ron looked upset as well.

“Could somebody please explain this to me?” Draco suddenly asked.

“Of course,” Harry instructed. “Sit down.”

Draco and Ron each pulled out chairs from desks near the front of the room and Harry summoned his own desk chair over to where they were sitting. He sat down in it and pulled Hermione gently into his lap. The three chairs formed a tight circle in the front of the room.

“Harry,” Ron said suddenly, looking rather green.

“What?” Harry asked.

Ron didn’t answer, but he pointed to the still engorged spider that was moving around on Harry’s desk. Harry looked over at it and smiled wryly.

“Reducio,” he murmured. The spider grew back to its normal size and then suddenly disappeared and reappeared inside of the jar. The lid screwed itself onto the top of the jar.

“Thanks,” Ron said as the green tint left his cheeks.

Harry, Ron and Hermione told Draco all about the Hermione’s dream and the marks.

“That’s awful,” Draco said, looking horrified, when they had finished. “I can’t believe I was ever proud to be in his house.”

“That reminds me,” Harry said suddenly, “you know Snape pretty well, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Draco replied. “I’m not sure that anyone knows him that well.”

“I need to know everything I can find out about Salizar Slythrin and I’m wondering if Snape might be a good place to start.”

“Wouldn’t Professor Binns be better?” Ron asked.

“No,” Hermione said. “I talked to him over lunch and he was less than thrilled to discuss what he considers legend, which leaves precious little regarding the founders.”

“What did you talk to him about?” Harry asked curiously.

Hermione told them the story that Professor Binns had related to her earlier.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Ron said when she finished.

“Me neither,” Harry agreed, “but it wasn’t anything that I didn’t already know. I wish there was a way we could get some more concrete information. It’s too bad that there isn’t a ghost around here that old.”

“A ghost!” Hermione suddenly exclaimed excitedly. She jumped off of Harry’s lap and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Ron called after as the three men got up and followed her. She didn’t reply. She was hurrying through corridors and it was all the men could do to keep up with her. She kept ducking through hidden passageways, which was nothing new to Harry and Ron, but Draco had never seen them before. He wondered vaguely how they had found all of the secret doors, corridors, and staircases. He had lost track of where they were, but since the other three seemed to know, he just followed along.

“Of course!” Harry exclaimed suddenly.

“I wondered when you’d figure it out!” Hermione called back to them.

“Harry, what is going on?” Ron asked exasperatedly.

“Myrtle!” Harry said.

“Oh!” Ron exclaimed, suddenly catching on.

“Will someone please explain this to me?” Draco demanded.

Before either Ron or Harry could answer though, they were pushing open the door to a girls’ toilet. Draco stopped as he saw the sign on the door.

“This is a girls’ toilet!” he exclaimed.

“Very good, Malfoy,” Harry said sarcastically as he stuck his head out of the door. “Now stop being a prat and get in here!”

“But…” Draco started to protest, but Harry grabbed his arm and dragged him inside.

Hermione and Ron were standing in the doorway to the last stall talking, it seemed, to the toilet. Harry quickly joined them. Draco was still confused.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“Sod off, Malfoy!” Ron hissed.

Draco was annoyed, but he shut up anyway.

“Come on, Myrtle!” Hermione called again. Suddenly a wispy ghost whooshed out of the toilet and hovered before them.

“Hello Hermione,” she said mournfully.

“Hi Myrtle,” Ron said cheerfully.

“You never come to see me anymore. Only Hermione comes to see me anymore.”

“I come once in a while!” Harry protested.

“Not very often anymore.”

“Well, my office is on this floor, so I’ll remember to stop by more often from now on.”

This seemed to cheer the ghost up a bit, although she was still far from cheerful. She suddenly noticed Draco and flew over to hover before him looking at him.

“Who’s your friend? He’s cute!”

Ron started laughing.

“This is Draco Malfoy,” Hermione said by way of introduction. “Draco, this is Myrtle.”

“Really?” Myrtle asked with interest. “He’s gotten even cuter since I saw him last!”

“I don’t remember ever meeting you,” Draco said in confusion.

“Myrtle,” Harry said exasperatedly, “tell me you didn’t.”

“Why would I stop? It’s one of the few pleasures I have left since no one comes to see me anymore.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Draco, did you ever take a bath in the Prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor?”

“Sure.”

“Myrtle likes to watch people in there.”

Draco blushed.

“Anyway,” Hermione said quickly, “Myrtle, we wanted to ask you something.”

“People only come to see me when they want something. It’s not fair!” Myrtle moaned.

“I come and see you all the time with no ulterior motive!”

“I suppose so,” the ghost conceded, “but no one else ever does.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said.

“Humph.”

“Are there any ghosts here who would have known the founders?”

Myrtle thought for a moment, never taking her eyes off Draco.

“Maybe,” she finally said.

“We really would like if you could help us, Myrtle,” Ron said politely. “Is there some way we could find out? Or could you find out and tell us?”

Myrtle smiled at him.

“I suppose, on the condition that you all come visit me once in a while, I can go find out for you.”

“Harry and I can do that easily enough, but Draco and Ron aren’t around here anymore,” Hermione explained.

“I can come whenever I’m in town,” Ron volunteered.

“I suppose I could stop by here every so often,” Draco said, clearly still creeped out.

“Good!” Myrtle exclaimed. “I’ll go see what I can come up with! Where can I find one of you?”

“We’ll all be in my office,” Harry announced.

“Bye!” Myrtle called out, in a decidedly cheerier voice than she had when they arrived. Then she dived into the toilet spraying water around the stall. Luckily Harry, Hermione and Ron stepped back and Draco was far enough away already so that they didn’t get splashed.

“This day is getting weirder by the minute,” Draco exclaimed.

Ron started laughing again and Harry and Hermione smiled at him.

“I’ve never met a ghost like that before!” Draco continued as they exited the bathroom and made their way to Harry’s office.

“You probably haven’t met very many ghosts who were killed when they were…” Hermione said, and then turned to Harry. “How old would you guess she was?”

“Probably a first or second year, so eleven or twelve.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Draco conceded. “It’s still creepy to think that she watched me bathe!”

Ron and Harry started laughing and Hermione smirked. Draco looked sullen.

Harry unlocked the door to his office and opened the door. Hermione walked in first and Ron touched Harry’s arm.

“We’ll give you a minute,” he murmured and pushed Harry into the room.

Harry heard the door click behind him. Before he knew what was happening, Hermione was entwined in his arms with her face buried in his chest.

“Why is this happening?” Harry asked quietly. “Why can’t the world leave us alone for a few years before falling apart?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione whispered.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make your bruises go away.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. I need to come up with something to hide them from my students and other people, but I’ll be fine. It’ll heal.”

“I just hope that it doesn’t happen again.”

“We’ll just have to come up with a way to guard against it.”

“The book!” Harry suddenly exclaimed as he let go of her and hurried around his desk.

“What book?”

“I spent some time in the library today. Do you remember the big book on ways influencing dreams? It was the restricted section.”

“Dark Dream Spells and How to Cast Them?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Harry said as he rummaged around. “I hid it here somewhere. I didn’t want a student to be able to find it.”

“Harry, this is your private office. Students couldn’t get in here to steal it.”

“That never stopped us!”

Hermione laughed.

There was a soft knock on the door. Hermione opened it and let Ron and Draco in.

“Um…” Ron said, looking around, “where’s Harry?”

“I’m here,” came Harry’s voice from somewhere on the other side of the desk.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked as he leaned over the cluttered desk to see Harry digging through piles of books, papers and assorted magical objects.

“Where did this come from?” Harry suddenly asked.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“It’s one of your shoes,” Harry said picking up a strappy sandal and handing it to her across the desk. “I like those. How come you never wear them anymore?”

“Because I was missing one. And now it’s too cold.”

“I found it!” Harry exclaimed triumphantly as he pulled the book onto the desk.

“Great!” Ron said enthusiastically. “What is it?”

“Here,” Harry said as he handed the book to Ron.

“Harry, you don’t have any chairs hidden underneath all this stuff, do you?” asked Hermione.

“There’s one somewhere.”

“I think I found it,” Draco said as he started clearing stuff off of a vaguely chair-shaped area of the room.

Hermione rolled her eyes and waved her hand. A chair appeared behind Ron, who sat in it without looking up from the book. She made another appear for her and let Harry conjure up his own.

“Now, Harry, will you please tell us about what you were seeing in your classroom?” Hermione asked.

“Right,” he agreed. “There were five scenes that I was shown. I then went through them several more times trying to figure out what they meant. The first was the one you saw, Hermione. I had just restarted them again when you Joined me. It was a man with red hair about my height standing on the top of the staff tower looking out at the Forbidden Forrest. He was obviously nervous about something, more nervous than I have ever seen anyone be, but it was unclear what. Two women walked into view on the grounds and he watched them, smiling but still clearly uneasy. After watching them for a minute he turned and walked back down the stairs and into a room, shutting the door behind him. I pushed you away then,” he said turning to Hermione, “because I didn’t want you to have to watch the next scene. I would have rather not watched it myself. The next scene was Hermione’s dream.”

Hermione drew her breath in sharply and her hand flew to her face. Ron, who had been paging through the book as he listened, looked up sharply, eyes wide. Draco paled. Harry himself was staring at his hands, which rested in his lap, as he went on.

“It wasn’t Hermione though, it was a woman I’ve never seen. She had brown hair, but it was straight, not curly, and she was taller. I think that she was one of the two women on the grounds in the first scene. The scene didn’t play exactly the same as Hermione’s dream though. She still fought back, but it was different. There was a different quality to the way she fought. It took me a few times to figure out what it was, because it was subtle. Hermione fought like she could save herself, this woman fought like she was trying to keep him at bay until someone else crashed through the door and saved her. Unfortunately, it ended the same way the dream did. No knight in shining armour showed up. It was just as awful. Just like the dream.

The third scene had both the red haired man and Slythrin. They were having a horrible fight. They were screaming at each other, but what about was really unclear. Slythrin had done something to the other man and the man wanted to kill him for it. They seemed really close to blows, but Slythrin was always careful to stay away from the other guy. The man kept shouting things like ‘how could you do that’ and at one point ‘even you aren’t that evil’. He was furious. I’ve never seen anyone get that angry. Slythrin kept protesting that there was no proof he had done whatever it was and other such things. The problem was that he wasn’t a very good actor and the other man knew it, so he didn’t really need proof. I’m not sure all the proof in the world would have made a difference to him anyway. The man magically threw a lamp at him, which he dodged so that it smashed against that wall over his shoulder and that was the end of that scene.

The fourth scene was much calmer. The red haired man was having a conversation a beautiful blond woman. He was nervous. He was in fancy dress robes and so was the woman. He was talking about another woman and how he wasn’t good enough for her. She trusted him and he let her down, let her get hurt. He hated himself for it. There were even tears running down his face. The blond woman listened intently, but obviously didn’t agree with him. She watched him pace and talk for a while. Then she forced him to sit down and started talking to him. She told him that it wasn’t his fault, that the woman he loved didn’t blame him, that she still loved him, and that he needed to pull himself together. He stared at her for a long moment and then stood up, walked over to the mirror in the room and started adjusting his robes and wiping his tears.

Then it shifted to the last scene. This one took me a long time to figure out, and I’m still not completely sure about it. The red haired man was pacing back and forth in the hallway outside of the hospital wing. A woman could be heard screaming. It sounded like the brown haired woman from the dream scene. With every scream he got paler and either paced faster or stopped altogether for a moment. Finally there was one very loud final scream and he had to sit down. I don’t think he could have formed a coherent sentence at that point if he tried. He couldn’t decide if he should be deliriously happy or wracked with grief. A few minutes later the door opened and he stood up quickly. The blond woman came out with a baby wrapped in a white blanket. She handed it to the man. He seemed afraid to touch it, but she wrapped his arms around it and showed him how to hold it. He stared at it entranced. Suddenly he looked up at the woman and asked ‘what is it?’ The woman smiled and told him it was a daughter. He repeated the word after her and looked back at the child. A grin spread across his face and that was the end of it.”

No one said anything for several minutes. They all seemed lost in thought.

“Alright,” Hermione finally said, “what did you figure out about these images?”

“Well, first I thought they had to be someone’s memories, but since there was obviously no one else there in at least two of them, and it was never from a first person point of view, I don’t think that they were any person’s memories.”

“Then what were they?” Draco asked.

“I think,” Harry said slowly, “that they were the castle’s memories.”

“The castle?” Draco asked in confusion.

“The castle?” Ron repeated in disbelief.

“No, that makes sense,” Hermione said as it clicked into place in her mind. “The first thing that struck me about the spell, before I even started to think about what kind of spell it was, was that it had a tag that was totally foreign to me. Even when I have no idea who cast a spell, there is something familiar about the tag. There’s a difference if the person is male or female, if they are British or not, all kinds of things make a difference. The spell had a tag, like all spells, but it had none of those familiar traces. I figured that it had been masked somehow, even though I have never heard of that being possible before. If it were the castle’s tag though, it wouldn’t have had any of those familiar aspects. I think Harry’s right. The question is: why did the castle give you those memories?”

“I think was to give us more information, if I interpreted the memories correctly. So here’s what I think. Since there were only those four people in the memories, and one of them was Slythrin, I think that they were the four founders. That makes the red haired man Godric Griffindor. The brunette who was raped had to have been Rowena Ravenclaw, which means the blond was Helga Hufflepuff. I still don’t know what was going on in the first scene. The second scene was the dream. Ravenclaw was being raped, but she was less proactive than Hermione is, she was waiting for Griffindor, who was brave, to save her. The third scene was Griffindor getting angry with Slythrin for raping Ravenclaw. I don’t know if that was the fight that caused him to leave or not. The fourth one took me a while to figure out because nothing specific was said as to what was going on. I think that maybe it was Griffindor’s wedding day and Hufflepuff was assuring him that he was worthy to marry Ravenclaw. The last one was the birth of their first child, although I don’t understand why that one was significant either. Those are my thoughts. I want to find out more about Slythrin though because it may tell us more about it. What do you think?”

“I think I have to go see Poppy, and Harry, you should come with me,” Hermione announced as she stood up abruptly.

“Why?” Harry asked, obviously very confused.

“Go with her,” Draco said softly.

“What did I miss?” Ron asked, looking at Harry, who looked like he understood no more than Ron did.

“Wait here,” Hermione instructed. “Keep looking through that book for something useful, and wait for Myrtle. We’ll come back when we’re done.”

She shut the door behind her and stepped into Harry’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her protectively, even though he still hadn’t figured it out.

“Please let me be wrong,” Hermione whispered.

* * * * *

Notes:

The flower that Hermione gave to Harry in chapter two, the Nasturtium, is real and does have the symbolic meanings given.

The plant that Hermione’s students were working on, the Salvia Divinorum, also exists. The name means ‘Diviner’s Sage’ and it’s used for soul searching and used to be used for healing and shamanistic purposes by the Mazatecs and other tribes.