Gryffindor is for the Brave

Chapter Five
In Our Midst

November was a drizzly, dank, gloomy month, the sun never really appearing from behind the persistent gray cloud cover. The temperature hovered just high enough above freezing to ensure that the almost constant precipitation fell as slush rather than snow. It melted when it reached the ground, forming puddles and mud which froze overnight. Appollyon Pringle despaired of ever getting the entry hall clean again.

If Minerva had thought that she and Tom could keep the news of the holes in the barriers a secret, she was sorely mistaken. Within days, every student, teacher, and house-elf in the castle knew that Grindelwald had broken through somewhere on the continent, and the rumors just got more bizarre the longer they were allowed to spread.

Some said Grindelwald had passed through his hole, off to live with Muggles, never to be seen or heard from again. Most of them portrayed him as rather more antagonistic.

“D’you know what Nony was saying to me this morning?” Julia demanded one Sunday evening as the three were doing homework in the common room, a week and a half after the Prefects’ meeting. “There’s a rumor starting now that Grindelwald wants to suck all the magic out of our world and give it to the Muggles. I don’t think that’d be possible even if there weren’t any barriers. Honestly, she’s dating Aidan, he’s a Prefect, why can’t he set her straight?”

“You should hear what the first and second years are saying,” Minerva answered. “I had a little second year girl come up to me today wanting to know if we were going to have a Muggle for Minister of Magic next year. When I said no, she asked if Grindelwald was going to be Minister of Muggles.” She made a face, feeling slightly guilty for making light of someone’s fears. But these were too ridiculous.

“Magic will always be its own barrier,” Evan said in an exasperated tone. “If we ever were to need it, which we do not, because in each country with barriers in place, Germany included, said barriers are holding perfectly firmly.”

“Doesn’t every country have the barriers in place?” Julia wanted to know.

“No. Many parts of Central and South America have never used them, nor has most of Africa, and parts of Asia retired them a few years ago. Some places have minor ones, not as strong as ours, but mostly it is a European phenomenon. Maybe because of our history of witch burnings and suchlike.”

“They’ve strengthened the barriers in Germany, too, haven’t they?” Minerva asked. It seemed logical.

“Yes, probably through the networks of magic already in place. The barriers across Europe are interconnected in certain ways, to make it easier to maintain them. If they get weak in one location, magic from others is usually diverted there to help.”

“So this talk of sucking magic out is even more ridiculous than I thought, between the barriers being firm here and not even necessary in other places,” Julia said with satisfaction.

“All the talk is ludicrous,” said Evan with finality. “Julia, did you ever write to your sister about all this?”

“That’s right!” Minerva exclaimed. “Didn’t you say you’ve got a sister living in Germany? Does she know anything?”

“Yeah, I wrote to her as soon as I heard, to find out what was going on. Sylvia says it didn’t happen near her, at all, but the whole country’s on alert there. There are watchwizards patrolling the streets, posters for Grindelwald in all the windows. She wrote that the government kept saying they just want to question him, but everyone’s treating it like a prison breakout or something. They’re about two steps away from sending in Dementors.”

Evan nodded. “It will come to nothing, I am sure. Grindelwald has almost certainly left the country by now. He probably began with Germany because the barriers were naturally weak there for some reason, but now that he has figured out how to open the holes, he can go anywhere.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t choose Britain then,” Julia said with feeling.

Despite the best efforts of the prefects, rumors continued to flit about the school like ghosts, and an air of quiet fear permeated the rooms. Every student tottered between being desperate for information and worried about repeating what he knew, for fear of getting caught and told off by a teacher or prefect. On the surface, the school looked calm, but inside, it was seething with half-truths and wild speculations.

Minerva worried about it, but was powerless to stop either the rumors or the reactions thereto. Both she and Tom squelched whispers wherever they found them, but the mundane truth spread far more slowly than the fantastic stories. She wondered if Paideia blamed her somehow for the things people were saying. He remained imposing as ever, but didn’t seem to treat her any differently.

“Of course he doesn’t blame you,” Julia said, when Minerva voiced these fears to her one day, after Herbology.

“Paideia is not a fool,” Evan agreed. “He knew when he told you and Tom that there was no way to stop it, especially if you told the prefects. There are too many like Aidan, and Rory, who will spread panic attacks because they are either too stupid or too shortsighted to see reason.”

“But he warned us that he would hold us responsible if rumors started flying around,” Minerva protested, wrapping her scarf more firmly around her throat. They were walking back from the greenhouses, having just finished their outdoor lessons for the morning -- Herbology for Evan and Minerva, Care of Magical Creatures for Julia -- and the wind was whipping their hair and driving half-frozen water into their faces.

“He warned us all that if we encouraged any rumors that said any students were in danger, he’d sack us as prefects. Was his warning to you and Tom different?”

“Just that if there were any rumors that students were in danger, he’d hold us responsible.”

“Eh, then don’t worry too much. That’s about the only area the rumors aren’t exaggerating. Have either of you heard anything about Grindelwald showing up here?”

Evan and Minerva shook their heads. “Well, nothing serious, at any rate,” Evan clarified after a second. “I did hear one story that he was going to take control of the school and turn us all into Squibs.” He shook his head. “I told off a third year for spreading that--”

But he was interrupted at this juncture by a distant crack. Julia found the source first. “Hallo! What in the name of Merlin --?”

She pointed to the edge of the grounds, where the Forbidden Forest stretched out to the long lane that led from the castle out to Hogsmeade. In the distance, at the very end of the avenue, a figure had appeared. From so far away, it was impossible to see any details, except that whoever it was had bright, butter-yellow hair and was in some sort of distress. He -- or she -- tottered back and forth for a moment, then collapsed in a heap, letting out a piercing scream that attracted the attention of any students who hadn’t heard the noise of Apparition.

“It’s Etoile!” Julia cried, setting off at a run for the fallen teacher.

Students stared, and windows in the castle began to bang open as students and staff stuck their heads out to investigate the racket. Minerva froze. Someone should do something, her mind screamed. You should do something. You’re Head Girl. They’ll listen to you. It’s your job --

“You there!” Evan’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Fetch Madam Oggy. At once, do you hear me, Professor Etoile is hurt!” The prefect he’d pointed at scampered off towards the castle.

Emboldened by how quickly Evan had been obeyed, Minerva turned to a sixth-year Hufflepuff prefect she knew by sight. “Go get Professor Dippet, and Professor Paideia if you can. And you!” she called over to another Gryffindor, a fifth year. “Go to the Staff Room, knock, and get whomever’s in there. Professor Dumbledore should know what happened.” She turned her back on them deliberately and set off at a run after Evan and Julia. She could hear pounding feet behind her, but she didn’t look back to see who was there, for fear she’d see her orders being ignored.

As she ran, she reflected with pride and a small amount of exhileration that she’d managed to give the order, and she’d spoken with enough authority that they didn’t really have an excuse for not obeying. She should’ve been quicker, true, but -- but she shouldn’t be dwelling on it now, Professor Etoile was obviously in need of help.

Wind whipped through her hair, chilling her scalp, as she skidded to a halt, almost slipping on the ice next to Professor Etoile. The witch was sprawled in the snow, pale with cold and shock, still unconscious. Julia was holding her head, while Evan tried to rub feeling back into her hands.

As she knelt, she saw Tom Riddle out of the corner of her eye. He stood stoically behind, watching carefully. Another student came up behind her and undid the fastenings of his cloak, putting it over the fragile-looking woman.

More and more people gathered round, peering over shoulders and out from under hoods. Despite the rubbing, Etoile showed no signs of rousing.

There was a sound of galloping hooves, but before Vidya could kneel next to the fallen Etoile, another centaur stepped out of the Forbidden Forest. He reared up on his hind legs in a show of angry dominance, and Vidya stopped dead.

The two exchanged a few words in their own language, which sounded angry and unpleasant, before Vidya tossed her head defiantly and galloped back to the castle.

“What’s all this about now?”

The surrounding students blinked in surprise. Most had not realized the crowd was growing, and the rest of the staff was beginning to come out. The other centaur took one step back into the shadows of the forest, and the speaker toddled up. Madam Oggy, the nurse, was plump and bandy-legged, with a face like a squashed-up tomato, but she was also strong and efficient in caring for her patients. She bent over Etoile as the students looked at one another, silently asking if anyone else knew what the centaurs’ dialogue had concerned.

Within seconds, most of the rest of the staff had arrived, and Professors Paideia and Schwartz were pushing students back, while Dumbledore and Shirley knelt next to Etoile. The forest dialogue was nearly forgotten in all the bustle around the sleeping professor.

But before they could begin to magic a stretcher to take her to the hospital wing, she awoke. In a burst of energy that surprised them all, her eyes popped open and stared blankly around her. It happened so suddenly that several people jumped. Etoile looked back and forth, her eyes almost seeming to move of their own free will, the bright electric blue of her irises standing in sharp contrast to her dark, slightly dilated pupils.

She was silent for a second, blinking, not seeming to recognize the faces of people hovering over her, then she tried to surge upwards with the same sudden energy that had forced open her eyes. “Mair -- m -- mair c’est incrogable!” she gasped out. “Ma famille -- ma parirre -- ma parirre famille -- vont maurir! Le fin de monde -- le fin -- monde -- le fin de monde est maintenant!”

The students looked at each other, goggle-eyed. “Anyone know French?” “What’d she say?” “What’s she going on about?” “Something about her family --” “Was she just in France or something?” “Why’s she speaking French, anyway?”

“Right!” Madam Oggy shouted over the crowd in her thick Cornwall accent. “Get yourselves off to your lunch. You can’t be of any more help here. McGonagall, FitzPatrick, Riddle, help me get her to the hospital wing, she can lean on you. Let’s start getting her blood flowing. Off you all go!”

The students, at first not inclined to disperse, began walking reluctantly back to the Great Hall as Professor Paideia and Professor Shirley took it upon themselves to herd them. Gingerly, Minerva helped Professor Etoile to her feet, supporting her on one side until Tom came around the other. He and Minerva were close to the same height, both rather taller than the woman they were supporting, but a better match to help her than Julia, who was nearly six inches shorter than both of them.

“Right, then, to the hospital wing,” Madam Oggy called out. Julia walked behind with her, carrying the cloak that had been draped over Etoile. Wordlessly, Professor Dumbledore fell in behind them. He did it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, requiring no explanation.

The walk back to the castle seemed much longer than the run to the forest had been, through the bitterly cold wind and across patches of ice and mud, with Etoile draped between them, barely able to walk, breaking into French pleas or curses in a weak voice every few steps.

Nevertheless, they stumbled through the door a few moments later, panting, and set Etoile gently on a bed. “A cup o’ hot tea, I think,” Madam Oggy said, and within minutes she’d pressed a mug into the trembling professor’s hands.

“Very good, Tid,” Dumbledore nodded. “Marie, can you tell us what happened?”

Etoile blinked at her, and it took her a moment to begin. “I was in the Three Broomsticks,” she said, slowly, as if not quite sure of the truth of her own account. “To have the lunch. Ma frere -- no, is not right. My brother --” her voice faltered -- “my brother, he Apparate to the outside. Luc said, a hole in in France, in Paris, Grindelwald broke the, the barriers.” She gestured frantically in the air, trying to make sure they understood her. “He said he cannot find Mama, Papa, Jeanette, my sister. I get up with him, to go, we both Disapparate --” Professor Etoile began to cry. “I hit something come here, wake up, everyone looking at me .”

She took a large gulp of tea and tried to stand. “I m-must go. Ma famille -- my family . . .”

“Calm yourself,” Dumbledore responded gently.

“I must,” Professor Etoile said, obviously trying to sound matter-of-fact and reasonable and succeeding only in sounding weak and young.

“You must do nothing of the sort,” Madam Oggy snapped, in a tone that did not brook argument. “Lie down, you’re in shock.”

“It will all be taken care of,” Dumbledore said gently. “Do as Madam Oggy says.” He looked around at Tom, Julia, and Minerva, none of whom had moved. “Mr. Riddle, I need you to please fetch Professor Paideia. Tell him it’s urgent that he hear what Professor Etoile has to say. Miss McGonagall.” He paused, took out his wand, and drew up a scroll out of thin air, which he filled with writing with another flick of his wand. It sealed itself as he handed it to her. “If you could please give this to Professor Dippet. Miss FitzPatrick, you may now return to lunch.

“I need hardly remind you,” he added in a softer tone, “our Head Boy and Girl and one of their Prefects, to respect Professor Etoile’s privacy, and refrain from discussing this with any other students.”

“No, Professor Dumbledore,” they all chorused, Minerva sounding serious, Julia unsurprised, and Riddle -- something not quite respectful.

“Very good then. Off you go.”

The three exchanged glances and exited the hospital wing together, making for the Great Hall. Tom seemed to be musing over this startling new information, while Minerva and Julia looked at one another confusedly.

Minerva may have imagined it, but she really thought that a hush came over the Great Hall as the three of them entered it. Students whispered and pointed, obviously wondering if they were going to get any more information about what had happened to Professor Etoile.

While Julia headed straight to the Gryffindor table, Tom and Minerva went hesitantly up to the dais where the staff table stood. Normally students were not allowed to approach the staff table. Unfortunately, it was Professor Trinegal who noticed them first.

“Riddle, McGonagall? What is it that you want?” she said, in a tone designed to strike fear into the hearts of students. Whatever it was that they wanted, she was sure it could not possibly be important enough to interrupt lunch.

“Professor Dumbledore wanted me to fetch Professor Paideia, ma’am,” Tom said, respectfully but firmly.

“I have a message from Professor Dumbledore for Professor Dippet,” Minerva added, following Tom’s example of putting as many teachers’ names into her excuse as possible. She held up the sealed scroll as evidence.

“I see,” Trinegal said in an unpleasant tone. “Aaron, Armando, students to see you.”

“Thank you, Frances,” Professor Paideia answered calmly. Professor Dippet uttered a faint cough of acknowledgment. “Mr. Riddle?”

“Professor Dumbledore is in the infirmary, sir, with Professor Etoile.” Riddle’s tone was respectful, but there was something insolent about the way he spoke. “He’d like you to come down.”

“I see. Thank you, Mr. Riddle. Miss McGonagall?”

“I - I have a scroll here for Professor Dippet,” Minerva faltered.

He took it from her, unsealed it, and read it, before passing it to the headmaster. “Very good. You may return to your lunch.”

“Thank you, sir,” she answered, deciding firmly to herself that she wasn’t going to wonder at Paideia’s reading the scroll before he gave it to the headmaster.

When she got back to the table, Evan and Julia were already in the middle of a discussion.

“She probably bumped into an Apparition Block,” Evan was saying thoughtfully, as he munched on a piece of cheese. “Unfortunately, that could as easily be for a Bastille Day celebration as for an emergency.”

“Well, not Bastille Day, ‘cause that’s in July,” Julia said, smiling at his ignorance. “But I agree, they set those things up around street fairs half the time . . . specially in Paris, Nora says she can’t get anywhere some days there are so many.”

“Nora’s your sister, right?”

“Yes. Eleanor. She’s doing Charms work at Beauxbatons.”

Minerva looked from one to the other, surprised. After Dumbledore had said, so specifically -- it wasn’t that she didn’t trust Evan, but -- it sounded like Julia had just blurted out the whole thing to him. Who else might have heard? What made Julia so sure it was a good idea to tell Evan, anyway? It wasn’t a matter of trust, but of privacy. She shouldn’t have said anything, Minerva decided. Just as quickly, she knew that she could do nothing about a breach that had already taken place. She should have come back sooner, she would’ve, if she’d known Julia was going to tell him.

“Whad did you think?” Evan asked, apparently noticing her silence. “Did that sound like a standard Apparition Blocks to you?”

“Yes,” Mineva said quietly, trying to draw her attention back. She couldn’t change it now, and she had no idea how to communicate her discomfort. “But if they really are common in France, that doesn’t confirm or deny anything, I suppose.”

“Wouldn’t she know if there was some sort of street party planned?” Julia said. “Something standard shouldn’t have upset her so much.”

“Her brother showed up out of the blue saying their parents were dead,” Evan pointed out tartly. “If Eleanor Apparated here right now --”

“She couldn’t, not in the castle,” Minerva murmured.

“True, but he has a point,” Julia said. “I guess I wouldn’t remember what was going on at home, just try to get there . . . How did her brother get out, then?”

“Probably took them a few minutes to set up the Apparition Block,” Minerva said.

“Or, perhaps he wasn’t coming from Paris,” Evan said, musingly. “He could have been alerted to the hole some other way.”

“How? Sticking his head in the fire?” Julia asked.

“Maybe. An advance report -- anyone know what her brother does?”

“Not a clue. But if he’s an Auror or something --”

“That would fit very nicely. It might also explain why he didn’t snap back the way Professor Etoile did.”

“Huh? Explain to the ones who failed the Apparition test, please,” Julia said.

“When a Block is set up, and you try to Apparate past it,” Minerva said, trying to remember the details of her course manual, “one of three things happens. Either you end up just outside the block, or, if you put a lot of power into the Apparition --”

“The way someone would if they were panicking about the safety of their family,” Julia added, half to herself.

“Right. Well, if you dump a lot of power in, you hit the block and kind of ricochet off it, usually right to where you started. If you’re really skillful, sometimes you can control your rebound to a certain extent. Aurors, I think, have to have that kind of training, at least in Britain, so they can get back to an emergency site quickly, without the kind of shock Professor Etoile is in after getting jolted back and forth across the Channel.”

“So if whatsisname -- Professor Etoile’s brother -- if he could contol that a little, he wouldn’t come right back here. Which would explain why she was the only one to show up.”

“You know,” said Evan, biting his bread speculatively, “it is not Professor Etoile’s behavior that I find odd, but the other’s. Our divination professor.”

“That’s true!” Julia said, sounding surprised. “I’d forgotten that whole exchange. But you’re right, that was very odd.”

“I wonder what that whole dialogue was about. And why she left at the end of it,” Minerva said.

“Seems like he was warning her off, didn’t it?” Julia asked. “But why?”

“Perhaps she is not permitted to go to the Forest?” Evan suggested.

“I thought that was her home, though. Aren’t there loads of centaurs in the Forest?”

“Maybe she comes from somewhere else,” Minerva answered.

Julia squinted, thinking. “Or maybe she isn’t supposed to go back.”

“Why wouldn’t they let her, though, I wonder?”

A bell chimed, cutting Julia off and reminding all of them that they should be on their way to afternoon classes. As this was the day they split up for electives, the three were forced to leave the conversation where it was.

Everything that Etoile had said was confirmed the next morning at breakfast. Evan grabbed at his Daily Prophet eagerly, and spread across the front page was splashed the headline PANIC IN PARIS: BARRIERS BROKEN, GRINDELWALD BLAMED.

Minerva and Julia leaned over his shoulders on either side, reading the article as they shoved toast, eggs, and mushrooms into their mouths.

“In a disaster nearly unparalleled this century, Parisians yesterday were shocked when an unknown wizard Apparated into the Rue Moulin brandishing a wand and speaking in a foreign tongue. Said wizard, believed by many to be Grindelwald, then proceeded to cast a spell designed to create a small hole in the barriers separating the wizarding world from that of Muggles.

“The hole, though comparatively small, was large enough to admit of sight into the Muggle world, and presumably the reverse. The unidentified wizard then stepped through it, no doubt much to the shock of the Muggles on the other side. When he reappeared, he was dragging a Muggle with him. The wizard then Disapparated, still dragging the Muggle.

“Three other wizards and two witches attempted to approach the hole in the barriers; unfortunately, none survived the attempt. The French Ministry has not yet released the identities of these courageous fighters, except to their immediate families.

“The cause of their deaths remains unknown, but the hole was eventually closed from a distance by trained Maintainers. The French ministry has promised that the guilty party will be found and punished.

“Though the identity of the guilty wizard remains unknown, many are blaming the Swiss wizard Grindelwald, a scholar known to be experimenting with the magics that keep the barriers stable and responsible for opening a hole in Germany several weeks ago.

“‘I am sure it was he,’ reports French barkeep Jacques d’Henri. ‘Who else wishes to do mischief with the barriers? It is that German madman.’

“Other witches and wizards remain unconvinced. ‘Well, they don’t know anything, do they?’ said Ruth Henslowe, of London. ‘I mean, could be me grandfather for all they know. It wasn’t,’ she added hastily, ‘so don’t be bringing me in for no questioning about nothing. I’m just saying.’

“’French government has it entirely under control,’ says the young French Auror Luc-Pierre Etoile. ‘No more information here.’”

“Merlin’s toes,” breathed Minerva quietly.

“You said it,” agreed Julia. “No wonder Etoile was so upset.”

“Were her parents two of the five, do you know?”

“No idea,” Evan answered. “But it does say immediate family has been informed. So they will have told her if it was so.”

“We were right about her brother then,” Minerva said, with a small amount of satisfaction. She didn’t like the emotion, but she couldn’t deny that she was a little proud of herself and her friends for their deductive reasoning skills. She banished the feeling as quickly as she could by thinking about those who had died in the assault.

“It was the most logical explanation,” Evan said, but he sounded a little pleased with himself too.

“Should we swing by the hospital wing to see if she’s still there before class?” Julia suggested, her mind clearly still on Etoile. “We could ask her, about her family, if they made it.”

“Leaving aside the fact that your proposition is both presumptuous and insensitive,” Evan said dryly, as Julia blushed, “it will make us late for class. It is nearly time now.”

Julia scowled through her blush at him, but had to admit that he was right. They’d spent so much time reading the article, they barely had time to run down the corridor to their Curses and Countercurses class.

Starting that day, all Charms classes throughout the school were cancelled. At first it seemed that the students would get the period entirely free, but one of the teachers (“Paideia, no doubt,” Evan noted dryly) put a stop to that idea quickly. The period every Wednesday and Friday afternoon was spent in a study hall, led by a different teacher every week. On the whole, this seemed a decidedly unpleasant arrangement for everyone except Cera Brighton,who loudly proclaimed that Etoile had never bothered to teach them anything, anyway.

Minerva, Julia, and Evan usually sat together, sometimes doing homework, sometimes looking up extra information about charms, but most often discussing the strange behavior of Etoile and Vidya. No one seemed anxious to volunteer information concerning Professor Etoile’s return, nor could any of the students figure out why Vidya had been forced to flee from the forest. Several times, Minerva was ready to drop the whole business, reasoning that it wasn’t any of their concern anyway, but each time she resolved to think about something else, a new theory would occur to someone to be thought over and debunked.

“Catch up with you,” Julia said, not quite casually, as they packed their things a few evenings later, after spending several hours studying in the library.

“Right,” Evan said, slightly suspiciously. “See you in the common room.”

“Maybe they hate her now ‘cause she associates with wizards,” Minerva wondered quietly to herself. Since the incident on the edge of the forest, the three had spent hours trying to come up with a plausible explanation for the centaurs’ behavior, but so far none seemed to make sense.

“Perhaps,” Evan agreed, switching his bag from one shoulder to the other. “So angry that they would exile her?”

“They hate wizards, though,” Minerva said. “You never know -- Excalibur,” she added, addressing the Fat Lady, who swung forward to allow them access to Gryffindor Tower. “Maybe they hate them so much -- hang on a second and I’ll look it up.”

“It seems a trifle extreme, but I’m not very familiar with their habits.”

Minerva was already poring over her copy of We Are Not Alone: A Guide to Common Creature Questions. She’d been using it for extra study for her N.E.W.T.s, since she’d not had space to take a class on the subject. “No, no, this is it . . . ‘Centaurs traditionally abhor the confines and idiosyncranies of wizarding society’ . . . blah de blah . . . ‘they keep to themselves, scorning any of their number who forms intimate attatchment with wizards’ . . . et cetera, et cetera . . . ‘banishment is not an uncommon punishment in centaur society; it is the standard response to interference, fraternization, and internal dispute.’ Pleasant people. I suppose teaching here would fall under the ‘fraternization’ category.”

“Then that would fit,” Evan said, beginning to sound excited.

“But why would she decide to teach here in the first place if it meant exile?”

Minerva never got an answer, because just then, Julia came sprinting up to them, barely making it through the portrait hole, which closed on the edge of her robes. She yanked it free impatiently, not seeming to notice or care that the edge ripped. “Schwartz’s notes,” she panted, trying to catch her breath. “Schwartz’s notes, about that new spell, the experimental one, Imperio, they’ve been stolen from the staff room.”