The Chalice of Morgridar

Chapter 4

The First Choice

Harry could sense that something was not quite right. His wizard ring had been letting out a funny sort of buzzing vibration all day. There seemed to be some feelings behind the buzzing but when Harry tried to grasp them, they'd fall back away like shadows. The buzzing had been the loudest when he'd spoken to Ginny on the phone at lunch. He'd thought of telling her about it but something had made him keep his thoughts to himself.

Now as he walked down away from the main gate of the school and toward the hidden location of their home in Hogsmeade, the buzzing grew with every passing step. And there was a definite feeling behind it now. A kind of nervous anticipation. And something else. A feeling of scheming or plotting if plotting or scheming could be made into a feeling.

Reaching the village proper, Harry quickened his step. He took a left next to the public toilet (steadily avoiding the gaze of Lord Ravenhurst, the portrait that frequently tried to engage passers-by in lengthy conversation) and cut down another alleyway, looking around from long force of habit to make sure that no one was following him. He took another left next to Dervish and Banges, then turned sharply right and moved his hand to unlock the latch on the faded wooden gate that crowned his front garden.

Only to find that the latch, the garden, and the house were no longer there. In its place was the skeleton of an abandoned farmhouse. One half of its wall had fallen down leaving a view to the meadows and forested hills behind.

Harry darted his eyes back and forth to make sure he hadn't taken a wrong turning, but he knew almost right away that this could not have been the case. He knew that the remains of the farmhouse were exactly as his home would appear to anyone who wasn't supposed to see it. But that should not have included him. Before Harry could think what his next action might be, he felt a surge of nervous anticipation running to him through the ring. The sensation was closely followed by the musical ringtones of the Whizzing Fizzbees.

"Ginny," said Harry, picking up the phone.

"Hi, Harry," came the bright reply. "I can see you out of the window."

"I can't see you."

"Funny that."

Harry sighed. "What's going on, Ginny?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Ginny, growing serious, "but it's for your own good. And everyone else's."

"What's for my own good? Not being able to get into my own house after a very, very long and tiring day at work?"

"Oh, you can come into the house, Harry. But only after you pay the visit you've been putting off for the past month."

"I - I'm not ready, I told you."

Ginny sighed. "And at this rate, you're never going to be ready, Harry. I'm sorry but it's the only way. There's nothing I can do now anyway. I couldn't break the enchantment if I wanted to. And don't try getting help from our Secret-Keeper; I had a word with her today and she's very much of the same mind. All it takes is a quick bit of Apparition and then before you know it, you'll be done and back here." Ginny paused. "And then I promise I'll make it all worth your while," she finished.

Harry felt a different sort of sensation coming to him through the ring.

"Now go, Harry."

The phone went silent.

Harry frowned crossly and positioned his thumb over the ring button on the phone, but with a heavy sigh he moved it away again. He replaced the phone in his pocket and concentrated on Remus Lupin's front living room. He thought of his mentor and friend relaxing on his small, slightly worn rocking chair next to his fireplace. He imagined Tonks sitting on the armrest of the chair nearby to get closer to him. He pictured their daughter Amiosia chasing around Albus, the couple's lovable sheepdog, whose shaggy white hair reminded them all very much of his namesake. But Harry also felt a surge of pain and guilt that clouded the image in his mind. For a moment, he was sure he'd never be able to concentrate long enough on the image to make it to his destination, but then he felt the still unpleasant sensation of space folding in around him. An instant later, he opened his eyes to a scene so similar to the one he'd just formed in his mind that he had to blink three times to be sure he hadn't imagined it.

"Harry!" said Tonks, who was standing behind Remus' armchair resting her hands on his shoulders, her hair long and blonde.

Before Harry could reply, there was a rough, loud barking sound. Albus emerged from behind the other side of the chair and bounded up to Harry, resting his paws on his waist.

"Albus!" said Remus warningly.

"Albus, leave him alone!" demanded Tonks.

Harry found a wry smile forming on his lips. You know, boy, don't you? he thought. You know it would be better if I wasn't even here.

But the dog's angry barking quickly stopped as Albus began to sniff Harry's wrists. A moment later, satisfied that the visitor was a familiar friend, he began to lick Harry's hand and nuzzled his face against the wizard's right leg.

"Albus, come away from him!" Tonks waved her wand in the air and Albus became distracted by an invisible object behind their sofa. "I'm awfully sorry about him, Harry; do sit down."

"It's all right," Harry found himself mumbling. He sat down on the edge of the sofa and looked across at Remus. The grey eyes of his former mentor quickly found his.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Harry?" asked Tonks brightly. "I've just got in some essence of Fluxweed."

"Yes, please," said Harry, his eyes not leaving Remus's.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, Harry?" Remus asked.

"Harry doesn't have to have a reason to come 'round and visit us," came Tonks' voice from the kitchen.

But Remus continued to look at Harry who could see that he wasn't fooled. For the briefest of instants he considered whether life might be so bad if he never returned home, then he opened his mouth and spilled out everything that had happened since the night that Dumbledore had appeared in his dream.

***

The wizard panted as he neared the corner to Knockturn Alley. His eyes darted around furtively. He checked for the umpteenth time that the object he was carrying was safely concealed under his cloak. He felt his sweaty palms begin to slip across its surface and he clutched onto its neck more tightly.

The wizard wasn't sure why his interlocutor had wanted to meet him before dark. There were far too many people still about, rushing home from work; he could easily be seen. Perhaps he had wanted it this way. Perhaps he was testing his nerve or trying to find out how much he really wanted this deal. Perhaps he didn't want the sting of the wizard's defeat to wane, even in the slightest. And perhaps it had worked. As soon as the wizard had received his interlocutor's encrypted but recognizable signal, he had taken his chance and come. He only hoped he wouldn't be gone long enough to be missed.

It started to rain. The wizard breathed a sigh of relief as the throngs of witches and wizards coming from work or shopping started to run more quickly through the streets of Diagon Alley behind him. Sharp cracks echoed like firecrackers all throughout the narrow space as many Disapparated back to their homes. The rain began to bounce away from many of the others as they set up Impervius Charms. The wizard watched as the water flowed oddly into the empty spaces between the running people or onto those not fortunate enough to know the spell.

A bit of rubbish.

Perhaps that's all it was; perhaps that was all it had ever been. A few months ago the wizard would never have doubted it. He remembered how he'd laughed when the stranger had first approached him and asked him for the Chalice, but he wasn't laughing now. If it was a piece of rubbish, then this stranger wouldn't want it so badly. And it was plain to see that he had power, tremendous power, and tremendous knowledge as well. He had taken hold of one of the galleons used by the D.A. How?

It had occurred to the wizard more than once that the recent misfortunes might have been caused by the stranger himself, though the wizard couldn't possibly see how that could be. If the stranger really had made these "accidents" happen, however, then they would likely keep occurring until he got exactly what he wanted. If, on the other hand, the stranger was telling the truth that he only wanted to help the wizard in exchange for a piece of its mysterious magic, than perhaps he could help. Either way, it seemed the only thing left to do was to hand over the Chalice. He wasn't one to hesitate and already he had hesitated far too much.

Get help!

But the wizard dismissed that thought as well. True, he had spent little of his life acting alone, but he wasn't about to become dependent on others either. And to be really honest with himself, he didn't want anyone to talk him out of what he was about to do.

A soft crack echoed somewhere nearby. The wizard peered further down Knockturn Alley, realizing that the sound had come from somewhere in that direction. His heart moving faster, he walked cautiously down the darkened passageway, pausing once to look back to see whether he had been spotted.

Perhaps it was all a trap within a trap, he thought as he inched his way nervously down the alleyway. He cautiously turned the corner and walked right up toward the entrance to Borgin and Burkes. Perhaps he was about to be ambushed and the Chalice stolen. But what would be the point -

"I trust you have not failed me this time."

The wizard whirled. He looked around, seeing no one at first. Where had the voice come from? It couldn't have been from far away. Surely -

The wizard's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. A pile of rags he had mistaken as part of the debris that littered each side of the alleyway slowly began to stir. The wizard instinctively drew back. Finally, the top folds of the cloak slowly moved apart and a graying weather-beaten face emerged. Two grimy sets of fingers poked out from a pair of torn gloves. It was only when the stranger turned his face toward the wizard that he recognized a pair of familiar keen eyes and white sideburns.

The wizard took a step back.

"Does age and poverty shock you, my young friend?" asked the older wizard silkily.

"No, it's - " The younger wizard was at a loss for words. "It's just that last time - "

"I told you I needed that Chalice, my dear sir. Perhaps now you might understand my - "

The older wizard broke off and launched into a sudden coughing fit. The younger wizard took another step back as his interlocutor coughed bits of phlegm and greenish bile onto the pavement.

"You are not well, sir," said the younger wizard, fighting back a nauseous sensation that had begun in his stomach. "I should take you to St. Mungo's."

"No need for that, sir," replied the older wizard, wiping his mouth with a ragged, dirty handkerchief that he slowly folded and replaced in his pocket as though it were a finely embroidered piece of silk. "All I need is what you are carrying under your cloak, unless I am very much mistaken, that is."

The younger wizard looked down to see the noticeable bulge of the Chalice peeking out from under his cloak. With great reluctance, he took it out and brought it into plain sight. He watched as the older wizard's eyes widened. He reached a bony, trembling hand out toward the Chalice but the younger wizard instinctively withdrew it.

"I still don't understand why you want this."

The brightness in the older wizard's eyes faded. Dismay wrote itself across his face.

"I think I told you, sir. I am need of some fortune. Desperate need as I hope you might now appreciate. And you are too, sir; that is why I have proposed this little exchange. Now, please, sir, the Chalice."

The younger wizard looked down at the Chalice again. It seemed so easy just to turn it over to the older wizard. Honestly, who would miss it? But so many things still didn't make sense to him.

"You still don't trust me, do you?"

The younger wizard looked up. The old man's eyes were shrewder now. The younger wizard wondered again if he was reading his mind.

"My sister says this is a piece of rubbish," he replied. "It was found in a raid. Nine - nine Ministry experts in counter-charms disarmed this thing. Do you really expect me to believe you know more about this than they do?" He felt a sudden surge of pity for the pathetic creature in front of him. "I'm sorry, but whatever this once might have done, it's had it now."

The older wizard's eyes suddenly narrowed. He pointed a bony finger to his head.

"But I do, sir, I do," he said steadily. "I do expect you to believe I know much more about this Chalice than those Ministry experts. I may be down on my luck now, sir, but I assure you, my knowledge will not fail me nor you if you would allow me to assist you."

The younger wizard felt suddenly rigid. He had the strange impression that, for the very first time since they had begun their strange meetings, he was finally being told the truth. Nonetheless, the younger wizard found himself slowly reaching out and placing the Chalice into the older wizard's outstretched hands. A hundred potential doubts raced through his head but he could no longer find much ground to support any of them. He could not escape the notion that he was being tricked but he was no longer sure why or how. Finally, he felt the bony hands take the Chalice from his.

"Thank you, sir, thank you, indeed!" said the older wizard, his eyes now shining with glee. "Two weeks is all I need. I have promised you that and I shall keep my promise."

And with a crack the older wizard was gone and with him the Chalice of Morgridar.

***

A stunned silence fell over the sitting room. Tonks had gone very pale and her hair had reverted to its natural mousy brown. Remus rested the tips of his hands on the bottom of his chin. A horrible queasiness raged inside Harry's stomach. It was even worse than he had imagined. He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected but anything seemed better than the ominous silence that had descended over the room. Just when he was certain he would either verbally explode, vomit, or be forced to Apparate away from the house and pretend he had never gone there, Tonks spoke up.

"Balderdash, Harry," she said, trying to sound certain of herself. "It was just a dream. All right, perhaps it was a bit more than a dream. He did have powers none of us could understand at times. But he was on that island for years! And he knew he was going to die sometime. He had to have done something to make it safe. And you were only his Secret-Keeper! If he had wanted you to find his successor, why didn't he tell you years ago? You didn't sign up for this. You - Remus, tell him!"

But Remus did not respond. He continued to stare straight ahead lost in thought. Harry half-expected Tonks to start up again but she just continued to look at her husband. The silence, if possible, seemed even more foreboding than the first time.

"You were right to come and tell us this, Harry," said Remus finally. He lifted up his head and looked Harry directly in the eye. The fatherly expression in his grey eyes dispelled the queasy sensation in Harry's stomach almost instantly, but then Remus frowned.

"But this is serious," he went on. "I wish I knew more about this, Harry, but, for his own reasons - perhaps good ones - Albus chose to tell us as little as possible about what he was really doing on that island. We know, of course, that Voldemort's attempt to break through the gateway, while sealed, left an area of instability. Albus was very concerned about this even before we managed to stop Voldemort's plans. When Ginny crossed back over, much of the instability was eliminated but not all of it. Whatever Albus was doing to hold this all together, I'm afraid, may have been the only thing preventing another catastrophe." He let out a small sigh. "I cannot deny that it is quite possible that someone must remain on that island to keep the forces holding the gateway together in check, someone with considerable magical experience."

There was another uncomfortable pause. Harry felt his queasiness returning.

"B - but surely, Remus," said Tonks, finding her voice again. "We can't be sure of this! What if - "

"I rather think we can be as sure of this as we can of anything, dear," said Remus calmly. "I'm sorry."

Tonks opened her mouth as if to protest again but then closed it. Although he had spoken with little agitation, there had been a certainty in Remus' voice that had brooked no contradiction. After a moment's pause, however, Tonks said, a little more quietly:

"We're going to help Harry, aren't we?"

"We're going to try." Remus turned back to Harry. "You want me to help you to find someone to carry on Dumbledore's work, someone who understands what is going on and someone who is capable and willing to take on the task."

Harry nodded. He felt glad that Remus had said it himself, but the way he'd put it made it seem all the more impossible.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Harry," said Remus, seeming to read Harry's thoughts. "This will not be easy."

"If we put our heads together, I'm sure we can come up with someone," added Tonks. "Perhaps there was someone else Dumbledore confided in?"

"I don't think so," said Remus after another moment's pause. "I don't think you'll find anyone who Dumbledore confided in much more than he confided in Harry." An ironic smile escaped from the corner of his lips as he looked back toward his one time pupil. "Albus always seemed to have an implicit trust in your abilities, Harry, even from the time you were a boy. I'll admit I often thought that trust reckless, especially given his habit of providing you - and us all - with as little information as possible. This time seems no exception. But he has yet to be proved wrong." He tried to look hopeful. "I think I can arrive at one or two possibilities, Harry. I need you to allow me a little time, though." Remus shifted uncomfortably and glanced up momentarily at the ceiling. The subtle sign was enough to tell Harry that the full moon wasn't far away. "But I won't forget, Harry, I promise." He stood up, walked over to Harry, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "If there's someone who can do the job, we'll find him. Now don't keep that wife of yours waiting too long and tell her from me that we hope to see you both here on a happier occasion."

"I will," said Harry, standing up. He made a motion to shake Remus' hand but the latter drew him into a quick hug.

"It'll be all right, Harry," said Tonks, wandering over and hugging him as well.

Harry nodded with a little uncertainty. He tried not to focus on the fact that, for all her success in disguising her appearance, Tonks was unable to wipe away the doubts from her face. Harry closed his eyes and forced himself to focus on a place full of warmer and happier memories. A surge of feeling and longing grew like a quiet explosion from his chest and traveled to his extremities. A moment later, he felt the real warmth of a glowing fire, the familiar softness of a chair whose worn frame had contoured itself to his body, and the pleasant sight of a beautiful red-headed witch who looked as though she had been staring at the chair for hours hoping that, in spite of her machinations, its occupant would return.

Harry had no sooner taken this in this scene when the witch rushed up toward him. He felt a surge of relief through the ring a moment before he experienced the familiarly pleasant sensation of long silky hair tickling his face. Warm hands wound gently yet passionately around his back and a soft cheek nestled next to his.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered into his ear. "I love you so much."

***

"L - l - look out!"

Siosia spun around fast but she could see it was too late. A bright blue hex was already flying toward her from Clarissa's wand and it and she were only meters away. Siosia instinctively threw up her hand to shield herself but she knew it would do no good. The last thing she saw was Clarissa's face framed in the light of the hex, beet red and pinched in anger like a cobra spitting venom on its prey. She felt her back hit the stone wall behind her as she ran out of room to run. Instinctively, she shut her eyes and waited for whatever wicked magic her body was about to endure.

She opened them quickly, however, when she felt a rush of wind hitting her face. A black blur and a red light followed that seemed to blind her temporarily. She heard a shout of dismay that sounded like it had come from Clarissa, followed by the sounds of struggle and pain.

"Let me go!" Clarissa cried savagely.

The black blur vanished and Siosia found herself looking at Clarissa. She had half fallen onto the floor, her wand was out of her hand, and both of her arms were now restrained by a tall, burly fifth-year boy whom Siosia vaguely recognized as one of the Gryffindor Prefects. Siosia touched her face apprehensively expecting to feel boils or pimples breaking out all over but there was nothing. She locked eyes with the Prefect very briefly wondering what he'd done to stop Clarissa. Then she heard another voice right next to her say:

"W - w - w - w - what did y-y-you do?"

She had momentarily forgotten that Christopher was with her. They'd been walking out of Charms together. Clarissa must have tried to hex her from behind. She turned to respond to her friend but then saw that he was talking to someone else.

"Did you like it, dear?" said a girl's voice, and Siosia saw through her peripheral vision a gentle hand being laid on Christopher's shoulder causing the latter to take a quick step back toward her.

She turned to look properly at Christopher's interlocutor and found that it was not a girl at all. Nybyn looked at her and straightened his shoulders, seeming to grow taller and broader as he did so.

"An instinctive defense, I think," he explained in a deeper voice. "I didn't find I could do it until last year. Some people don't take much of a liking to Windylsydes, I'm afraid."

"D - d - did you g-get h-h-hurt?" asked Christopher.

"Oh, no, dear." Nybyn shrunk slightly and his posture shifted as he turned to Christopher and giggled. "If I get it at the right angle, it lets off a shield, a red light. I don't know how I do it, really; I wasn't raised by Windylsydes so it wasn't something I learned. I only found out I could do it when I came here. Some people think it's funny to try their hexes out on whomever they find abnormal."

Nybyn ran a hand through his thick curly hair, twirling the ends of it absently in his fingers. He quickly let it fall to his side as he turned back to face Siosia and straightened up again.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I - I think so," Siosia replied, quickly exchanging a disturbed glance with Christopher.

"Sh - she - w-wanted to g-g-get y-you j-j-just b-because y-y-you d-d-did that l-l-levitation charm b-better than h-her in c-c-c-class."

"I won't be shown up by a filthy blood traitor!" Clarissa hissed, her eyes flashing angrily.

Christopher, Siosia, and Nybyn turned around, almost having forgotten Clarissa was there.

"And don't think I'm not telling your Mum and Dad who you spend your time with, you stuttering little freak!" she spat at Christopher.

Christopher went very white. Siosia took a step forward, a lethal retort on her lips when Clarissa suddenly yelped out in pain. The burly Prefect had taken her arm and pulled it behind her back.

"Don't ever let me hear you say that!"

"Let me go!"

The Prefect's face had gone a bright red along with Clarissa's. In spite of her near miss, Siosia found herself feeling a little apprehensive on Clarissa's behalf.

"Swear to me you won't say that again!"

"Ow! Let me go!"

"Let her go!" said Siosia suddenly.

The Prefect stopped twisting Clarissa's arm and looked up at Siosia in surprise.

"She's just a little - "

"Get out!" cried the Prefect suddenly. "Go on! Off to your class or you'll be late! You're safe now."

"L-l-l-let's go," Christopher whispered in Siosia's ear.

Siosia had turned around to walk away trailed closely by Christopher and Nybyn, when she heard the Prefect mutter in a stage whisper:

"I'd have expected better from the daughter of Harry Potter."

Siosia swung around sharply. Before she could stop and think about it, her wand was drawn out and pointed at the Prefect. Before the latter had even noticed what she'd done, however, Nybyn snatched up the wand and half-pushed, half-directed her back in the direction they'd been going.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. He's a nasty creature, that one."

"But he said - "

"Never mind that. Keep going!"

Siosia wrestled herself away from Nybyn but continued to walk with him quickly away from the commotion. Christopher walked alongside them, looking none too eager to remain. Siosia felt her cheeks burning in anger. A hard lump began to form in her throat. How could he have said that? A Gryffindor Prefect? He was supposed to have been on her side. Didn't he see she didn't want this? Siosia found she almost wished that Clarissa's hex had found its mark. At least that was how it was supposed to be, a foul-minded Slytherin after her neck. But to be challenged by a Gryffindor Prefect. She was supposed to feel safe around people like that, look up to them, go back into their common room and feel -

Siosia quickened her pace as she felt tears start to prick her eyes that she didn't want the others to see. Now walking in front, she wasn't sure where she was leading them. Then she realized there was only one place they could really go.

***

"I think he's dishy, anyway," said Caroline briskly as she and Felicia left Transfiguration and began walking down the corridor to second-year Charms.

"But his nose is so square! You have to admit you just can't get past the nose, Lye!"

The two girls giggled.

"You just think anyone who doesn't look like Robert isn't dishy!"

"I do not! Caroline!"

"Admit it, you - "

Caroline broke off. A crisp, shrill cry came from somewhere nearby and was followed by the sound of shouting. The girls looked at each other for a moment, then quickened their pace to round the corner into the Charms corridor.

There they could see that a large crowd of students had gathered around a commotion just past the entrance to the Charms room. Caroline was too short to see over the heads of the older students who had gathered in front of her. She tried to push her way toward the front but was met with too much resistance.

"Let me go!" cried a girl's voice that Caroline didn't recognize.

"Swear to me you won't say that again!" a boy's voice shouted out.

Caroline felt her heart quicken. It was Robert.

"Ow! Let me go!"

"Let her go!" another voice cried out.

Caroline recognized this voice, too. It was Siosia. She tried to push harder to the front but only succeeded in passing through one layer of bodies.

"I'm short," she protested. "Let me - ow!"

Caroline felt a sharp elbow hit her in the shoulder. She was about to deliver a nasty rejoinder to whomever had just struck her when she heard Robert shouting again.

" - your class or you'll be late! You're safe now."

Caroline suddenly felt the crowd start to thin in front of her. She moved to the side wall and edged her way forward. She was shocked to see Robert holding a small Slytherin girl down on the ground who was struggling in his grip.

"Robert, what's going on? Why - "

Robert looked up. "She just tried to hex your cousin. I put a stop to it."

Caroline instinctively looked ahead and just about made out Siosia running ahead with another boy. She was surprised to see that creepy magical creature walking quickly behind them. She thought to call out and warn her but then she realized there were a lot of students walking in a crowd together behind the Windylsyde. She supposed that Siosia could handle things herself; after all, she would have to. She and the creature were both in the same house.

Caroline's thoughts quickly came to a halt by the sounds of collective murmuring from the remaining students. The crowd shifted again and she found herself being moved toward the center of the hallway. She turned her head to the right, away from Robert, and saw that she was right in front of the entrance to the Charms classroom. The door to the room had opened and Peter Hall walked out into the corridor.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance?" he asked, in a tone of voice that suggested anything but.

"He twisted my arm - "

"Sir," said Robert, releasing the Slytherin girl and standing to his full height. "This girl tried to hex another girl in her own house," he said, with an emphasis which left little doubt that such a thing could never happen in Gryffindor House. "And she called her a blood traitor! If I hadn't intervened, she - "

"Liar!" cried the Slytherin girl getting to her feet. "You didn't - "

"Miss Caldwell," said Hall in a tone that could cut through ice. "Did you try to hex another student?"

"No!" Clarissa cried. There wasn't a trace of blush on her face but Caroline could see the fear in her eyes. "I never - "

There was a cacophony of murmurs from the crowd.

"And did you call this student a 'blood traitor?'" Hall asked in a slightly raised voice.

"No!"

More murmurs.

"She's lying, sir!" said Robert fervently.

"I'm not - "

"The little Slytherin - "

"Thank you, Mr. Mince." He drew a breath during which time no other sound could be heard. "Miss Caldwell, if I were to call any of these students here as witnesses, would they corroborate your story?"

"Of course."

But Clarissa's voice was shaking now.

"And if some Veritaserum were to find its way into your shepherd's pie this noon, would it - "

"You can't do that!" The girl's eyes flashed very wide. "It's not allowed!"

"Neither is hexing a defenseless student when her back is turned! And don't think I didn't see the whole thing through the open door of my room while the rest of your classmates were leaving!"

A cacophonous silence descended on the hallway.

"Miss Caldwell," said Hall in a much quieter but no less meaningful tone of voice. "I'm sorry to see that you have not taken my warnings to you very seriously at all. I think it's time we had a chat with Professor McGonagall."

"No, sir, I - "

"Do not try my patience further," replied Hall calmly. "As head of your house, your future at this school is in my hands."

Clarissa looked very white. She walked slowly toward Hall but still kept a small distance from the imposing Charms Master.

"Mr. Mince," Hall said coolly. "I will thank you not to manhandle my students, especially those who are far weaker and smaller than yourself."

Robert looked stunned.

"Sir, I stopped her from hexing that other girl!" he protested, his face going very red. "If I hadn't - "

"You could have done so with a little less enthusiasm," replied Hall icily.

"A little less enthusiasm and - "

Hall's eyes flashed in anger.

"This is not a discussion, Mr. Mince. You wear that badge and with it comes the responsibility of ensuring that the trust which others have placed in you was not mistaken. Kindly remember that. Miss Caldwell," he said, before Robert could respond again. "Come with me."

Hall led the Slytherin girl in the direction of the stairway. The remaining crowd of students parted quickly to let them pass. Caroline looked back at Robert and saw a gathering storm behind his eyes that looked just as fierce as the spite on the face of the Slytherin girl.

"Robert, what happened?" she demanded, pushing her way toward him. "Is Siosia all right? Why did she - "

"Weasley! Fingle!" said Hall suddenly, without turning around. "You will go into the classroom and wait for me along with your fellow students - now!"

Caroline continued to look at Robert her eyes full of questions, but then first Felicia and then she meekly turned around and walked into their class.

***

"Password," said a stone gargoyle in an especially dour voice.

"Slimy Serpents Always Sleep. Now open the door, you toad-faced git!" said Siosia angrily.

The gargoyle's eyes grew wider, forcing stress cracks to appear in the wall around it. "I can see you'll go far in Slytherin."

The door to the Slytherin dungeon swung open.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

The gargoyle led out a slight "humph," as Siosia walked underneath it and into the common room followed closely by Nybyn and at a safer and more cautious distance by Christopher.

"Do you know," said Nybyn conversationally, "that it was Hall who had that gargoyle put there? It looks ancient, I know, but it's only been a few years. You know, I think he wanted to make it more like - "

Nybyn broke off as Siosia ignored him and made a quick beeline for her room. Though she normally cherished her one free hour each day, she found herself wishing dearly she had a lesson this time. She wanted to go someplace where she didn't have to speak to anyone and she could take her mind as far away as possible from the enormous mess that her life had become.

"Oh, don't go in there," said Nybyn sounding a little bored. "Can't you stop being human for a little while and come out here to chat with us?"

"No!" retorted Siosia, fumbling for the key to her room. "And I don't want to! And I don't want to be here!"

"But it seems you are," came Nybyn's nonchalant reply. "Are you really going to change all that by diving onto your bed and sticking your head under a pillow?"

"I'm not going to stick my head under a pillow!" cried Siosia, repressing a sob. "I'm just - I just wish - "

"You wish you were somewhere else," finished Nybyn, "like in the Gryffindor common room with that nice Prefect."

"He'd be nice to me if I was in Gryffindor!" said Siosia angrily, turning around to face Nybyn for the first time.

"And does that say something about him or about us?"

"I don't care what it says," said Siosia. "It just - "

She stopped talking and felt two embarrassing teardrops start to form on her eyelids and trickle down her face.

"There, there," said Nybyn, crossing his long, spindly legs over the arm of a green leather sofa. "I'd make some small, high-pitched pitying noises and cry along with you but I'm afraid I don't feel very female in your company."

Christopher, who had been sitting on a small wooden chair a short distance from Nybyn now stood up and walked cautiously over to Siosia. When she didn't step away from him, he put his arms cautiously around her shoulders and the two shared a quick and awkward half-hug.

"I - I - I - I don't want to be here e-e-e-either," said Christopher. "B - b - but we're your f-f-friends."

Siosia didn't feel comfortable looking Christopher in the eye but she gave a little nod, then wiped her tears quickly away in her sleeve as though they'd been a figment of everyone's imagination.

Then very suddenly and unexpectedly, Nybyn broke into a peal of laughter.

"What's funny?" demanded Siosia.

But Nybyn just continued to point at her and laugh. He tried to speak but the laughter seemed to stop him. He laughed so hard that tears ran down his own cheeks. Finally, he stopped and sat upright on the arm of his chair.

"Forgive me, it's just - oh, I don't think you would quite understand. You won't take offense again, will you?"

Christopher suddenly let out a smirk he looked as though he'd been working hard to suppress. After a moment, even Siosia's lips started to curl up at the ends.

"N-no," she said, "but I still don't see what's so funny."

"Never mind that." Nybyn waved his hand in her direction. "Come and sit over here, the pair of you or before you know it, you'll have to go on to sit through another yawn-worthy lesson. And just when you were starting to look happy, too."

Siosia and Christopher walked over and sat down on the long sofa facing Nybyn.

"D-d-d-don't y-you ever go to any l-l-lessons?" asked Christopher, eyeing the Windylsyde a little suspiciously.

"I've been to at least five this week," replied Nybyn, looking a little put out. "No, four," he said, reconsidering.

"Today's Thursday and you've only been to four lessons?" said Siosia incredulously. "Doesn't anyone notice when you're not there?"

"No one notices when I am there, dear."

"W - w - what do you d - d - do all d - d - day then?" asked Christopher.

"I sit and watch and listen," Nybyn replied. "And no one seems much bothered either way. No one except for that horrible Gryffindor Prefect, that is. And the two of you now, I suppose."

"Why does he notice you?" asked Siosia.

"I don't think he likes anything out of the ordinary and I am out of the ordinary," Nybyn said as though Siosia would have never thought of it herself. "But it's become a little game for me, I suppose. I like to follow him now and see if he notices. And I've found out some very interesting things into the bargain which brings me to my next suggestion."

Nybyn put the tips of his long yellow nails together and looked very pleased with himself. Siosia and Christopher exchanged a wary look.

"What this group needs is a little adventure. And my oversized Gryffindor friend is going to provide us with some."

"H - h - how's th-that?" said Christopher, asking the obvious question.

"There's something going on at this school. Something that shouldn't be going on, I think."

"What?" asked Siosia.

For a moment, Siosia thought she saw an evasive look in Nybyn's pale narrow eyes, but his customary Cheshire-cat grin soon returned.

"A little group of Gryffindors are meeting on the third floor. The restricted third floor. What exactly they're doing there I can only imagine. But they're not alone. Someone is meeting them there."

"Who?" asked Siosia, looking confused.

"How should I know?"

"H-h-how do y-y-you kn-know th-they're m-meeting there a-any-anyway?" asked Christopher.

Siosia nodded her agreement at the question.

"I told you," Nybyn replied, sounding slightly impatient. "I've been following him around and I followed him several times to his little hiding place on the third floor. I've become rather good at hiding myself." He smiled what Siosia now thought of as his vampiric smile. "Especially in the dark," he added. "But I couldn't get into their room."

"Th - th - their room?" asked Christopher.

"What sort of room?" added Siosia.

Nybyn shrugged. "A secret room. Behind a statue. I don't know what goes on there. He used to go there alone - the Prefect; his name is Robert. But this time he wasn't alone. There were two other girls there with him. And they were talking after they came out. They'd been meeting someone in there, they said. I waited there for a long time after that. I thought whoever was still in there must eventually come out themselves. But they didn't."

"So then what did you do?" asked Siosia.

Nybyn sighed. "My appetite for the carcass of the chicken pie we had for dinner grew too strong, I'm afraid, and I made my way down to the kitchen."

"M - m - maybe whoever was in that r - room came ou - out by a d-d-d-different way?" suggested Christopher.

"Exactly what I was thinking." Nybyn smiled. "But there weren't any other doors. I checked very carefully. Perhaps whoever it was simply disappeared back to wherever it was they came from."

"But that's impossible," said Siosia. "No one can Apparate in or out of Hogwarts. My aunt's never tired of telling people that. Don't you think whoever it was came out after you left?"

"Perhaps. But I'd rather like to find out. And I'm very curious to see who it was. Aren't you?"

Siosia and Christopher exchanged glances again but said nothing.

Nybyn grinned more broadly. "Good," he said. "I think I can find my way into their little room now. I've watched this Robert do the spell several times. At least I can try. But I don't think I'd like to do it alone." He looked at Christopher first, his eyes fluttering suggestively.

Christopher's eyes went very wide. He looked at Siosia for a moment and then began shaking his head, slowly at first and then more vigorously.

Nybyn smiled and turned to Siosia. She looked doubtful.

"What if whoever comes in there finds us?" she asked.

"That's part of the adventure," said Nybyn enigmatically.

Siosia looked at Nybyn for a moment, then shook her head.

"I don't think so. I don't think I'd like to have anything to do with that Prefect again."

"Believe me, I quite understand," replied Nybyn. "I shall go alone then."

There was a long pause, then Nybyn took a very long tarnished silver pocket watch out from his robes and consulted the time.

"Hmmm... I think I might try the last fifteen minutes of Potions. It's always most fun to see the results, don't you think?"

He smiled at Siosia and Christopher once more, then drew himself out of the chair to impressive height and began to amble toward the entrance of the common room.

"Wait!" Siosia called after him.

Nybyn didn't stop for a moment, but then almost as he had reached the exit, he turned around and smiled at her once again.

"How would we have disguised ourselves, anyway?"

Nybyn smiled more broadly. "Leave that to me. See you tonight."

And without waiting for Siosia's contradiction, he stepped right up to the stone wall which opened to let him out into the corridor.

***

Caroline looked for Robert at lunch but didn't see him there. It wasn't until much later in the afternoon when she was on her way out of the Gryffindor common room to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Felicia that the portrait hole opened a little ahead of her and Robert walked in.

Before Caroline could question him, Robert waved her and Felicia over to a vacant table in the far corner of the room just to the left of the fireplace. Caroline took a quick glance over to the large iron clock that now hung over the right side of the common room sandwiched in between the portraits of Sir Cadogan and the Lady in the Fields and watched nervously as it creaked closer to three o'clock. But her curiosity had the better of her and she obeyed the request. Felicia, who had not stopped to check the time, was already walking to the table.

"We've got to go to class," Caroline began, "but - "

"Listen!" said Robert in an urgent whisper. "I don't have much time to talk now but I've had a word with our friend." His eyes darted meaningfully from Felicia to Caroline. "And he wants to see us again tonight."

"Tonight?" repeated Caroline. "Just like - "

"Sssh!" Robert whispered and put a finger to his lips. "Not so loud."

"Is he going to tell us more about the D.A.?" asked Felicia, finding it difficult to restrain her enthusiasm.

Robert regarded her as a teacher might a pupil whose question had fallen far from the gist of the lesson.

"What our friend chooses to discuss with us is his own concern. I think he wants to hear from us this time."

"From us?" said Felicia.

"We were supposed to be keeping our eyes and ears open, do you remember?" said Robert. "It's been more than a fortnight since we last met. I expect he'll want to hear what we've seen."

"Well, I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary from the Slytherins or anyone else," declared Caroline brusquely. "Unless you consider Geraldine Goyle's exploding potion and I hardly think that was intentional."

Robert looked meaningfully at Caroline. "Apparently you've forgotten about the nasty hex that was nearly put on your cousin this morning by one of her own classmates."

"What happened to my cousin?" demanded Caroline. "Did you really stop her from being hexed?"

"Yes," replied Robert without hesitation. "Didn't you see?"

"Why did that girl try and hex her?"

"How should I know? She's a Slytherin. She'd hex her best friend if she could get something out of it. They all would. And if you want to help your cousin, you should tell her to stay away from that oversized thing she hangs around with."

"You mean," said Felicia. She pasted a manic grin on her face and moved her shoulders back and forth in an imitation of Nybyn's ostrich-like gait.

"Yes."

"Well, he's a magical creature," Caroline began. "Of course, he's going to be - "

"That's got nothing to do with it," insisted Robert. "Believe me, I've been watching him for a long time. He's trouble. Now, tonight, the pair of you - usual place, usual time, and think about what you've seen." He leaned forward meaningfully and then stood up and walked quickly across the common room and up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

Caroline watched Robert go for a moment, then felt Felicia tugging on her arm.

"Come on, we'd better go. It's nearly three."

Caroline took another look up at the clock to see that they were perilously close to arriving late to her uncle's class. The two girls grabbed their bags and ran out of the portrait hole. Once outside they moved quickly down to the first floor praying that the staircases would stay put this time. Once they reached the first floor hallway, they found it full of students like themselves who were dashing to catch their lessons at the last minute. Caroline took one look at Felicia and two girls started sprinting at full speed toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, dodging other students as they ran. They had only made it halfway, however, when a chillingly familiar voice called out to stop them.

"Fingle! Weasley! What do you think you are doing?"

The two Gryffindors ground to a quick halt. They both turned around, open-mouthed, to see Professor McGonagall looking down at them in a way that only Professor McGonagall could.

"You will not run in the corridors."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but we were - "

Caroline elbowed Felicia before she could launch into a long-winded explanation that included their meeting with Robert.

" - late to class," finished McGonagall. "I don't think you need me to tell you that that is not an excuse. However, I will leave the matter of your punishment for tardiness to Professor Potter." She reached into the folds of her cloak and produced a slightly worn-looking grey envelope. "Miss Weasley, would you kindly give this to Professor Potter?"

Caroline nodded.

"Thank you," she replied with a half-smile, "and please don't let me catch you using this as an excuse for being late."

And with that, she turned around and continued down the corridor.

***

Harry charmed his belongings quickly into his briefcase. The last class of the day had not gone without incident. Andrew Margoyles, after having been warned three times that they were practicing disarming spells only, had finally sought to get the better of his Slytherin opponent Spindelus Gravenhurst by launching a savage hip-locking hex. Spindelus had ducked at the last moment, however, and the hex had landed on Felicia Fingle, who'd been looking the other way. Harry had sent Spindelus to Peter Hall and Felicia to the hospital wing. Now he very much wanted to make it home before Hall found his way in to "discuss" the matter.

"Professor Potter?"

Harry looked up. Caroline was walking toward his desk. Two Slytherin girls immediately started tittering and giggling to each other at the way Caroline had addressed him. He shot them what he hoped was a severe look and they walked out of the classroom quickly, the giggling reduced to a more conspiratorial level.

"Yes?"

Caroline took a faded-looking envelope from between her books and handed it to Harry. "Professor McGonagall asked me to give this to you, sir."

"Oh." Harry took it from her. It was not the sort of official-looking envelope that Professor McGonagall normally used for her in-house communications. Looking closely, Harry could see that several dirt stains covered the outside as though it had been transferred more than once between owls. He tried to tear it open but the material around the outside of the envelope seemed strangely resistant. He tore at the corners three times, feeling increasingly stupid. Then he stopped and thought for a moment, took out his wand, and touched it to the outside; the envelope quickly and cleanly unsealed itself.

Now full of curiosity, Harry took out a single piece of folded parchment and opened it. He had not read very much of the letter before he realized who had sent it and why. He quickly scanned its contents once and then read them more carefully a second time. Once he had done so, he quickly replaced the letter into the envelope and stuffed it into his briefcase. He then charmed the remainder of his belongings even more quickly and urgently, locked his briefcase shut, and took it with him to walk out of the classroom.

But as he looked up to leave, he saw that Caroline was still standing right in front of him.

"Uncle Harry?" she said tentatively.

Harry looked around the classroom and noticed that all of the other students had left.

"Yes?" he said, trying very hard not to sound anxious to leave.

"I was wondering...." Caroline's words trailed off. She had a troubled look on her face and began shifting her feet uncomfortably.

"...whether I could give back those five points I took away from Gryffindor for you being late?" Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't. I can't make an exception, you know that. But given all the points you've earned for your housemates over the last two years, I don't think they can rightfully complain. You should have seen the points your mother, father, and I lost for Gryffindor when we were here; it was a lot worse, believe me."

Harry gave his niece what he hoped was a sympathetic wink but Caroline continued to look anxious.

"No, it wasn't that," she said. "I was wondering - I was wondering if you could tell me something about the Defense Association."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "The D.A.?" he said.

Caroline nodded, looking a little more hopeful.

"Well," said Harry, finding he wasn't sure quite what to say. "It - uh - it was a group, a group that we started my fifth year at Hogwarts. We didn't have very good Defense lessons then, you see. The Ministry had sent one of their own teachers and, well - well, she was just - awful in a lot of ways. And she didn't believe us when we told her that Voldemort was back - well, she didn't believe me since I was the only one who had seen him. So we started our own Defense lessons to protect ourselves. I led the lessons, I suppose, but it was your mother's idea. Hasn't she told you about it before?"

"Yes," conceded Caroline, "but - but, Uncle Harry, is that all? I mean - what happened to the group?"

"Well, we were caught. I was nearly expelled but Professor Dumbledore lied and said the group had been his idea. Then he was relieved as Headmaster for the rest of the year."

"And then?"

And then I took them to the Ministry and got Sirius killed.

Harry clutched onto his briefcase more tightly. He really had to leave now. Hall was bound to come in any moment and the letter had been very -

"I mean, that was it?" said Caroline again. "There was no more D.A.?"

"No," said Harry.

He must have sounded very sharp then, because Caroline took a slight step backward and regarded him warily.

"I mean," Harry continued, "there wasn't any need for it. We had a proper Defense teacher the next year." He looked at Caroline quizzically. "Are you thinking of starting it up again? I hope my lessons aren't as bad as Dolores Umbridge's."

Harry tried to smile but it seemed that the joke was lost on Caroline. She looked back at him with an inscrutable expression.

"No," she said flatly. "It's not that. I was just - wondering. Can you tell me anything more about the group?" she added, sounding curious again. "Where did you meet? What did you do?"

"I - uh - I - " Harry looked up at the clock again. "I - I'd love to, Caroline, but I really have to dash. I'm - I'm having tea with someone tonight and there's a few things I have to prepare. We'll sit down and have a chat about the D.A. sometime soon, I promise, just not right now? Is that all right? I'm sorry."

Despite Harry's attempt to sugarcoat his postponement of their talk, he could see that his niece was slightly crestfallen. She looked down for a moment, then up again, as if there was something she was going to say, but then finally put on a brave-looking face and nodded.

Harry walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. "I won't forget. I promise."

But Harry did forget. And he would very much regret it later on.

***

On a short wooden bench in the center of a small Muggle park in an island between two busy streets - the kind of little park no one ever seems to notice - sat the wizard who had introduced himself two weeks before to three young Gryffindor students as Professor Derius. He was dressed in a black Muggle suit and trousers and a bright, clean white shirt. At his side was a long cane with a silver top. In his hands was a faded looking cup with three battered-looking gemstones down its neck.

A young woman emerged from a cluster of three maple trees at one corner of the little park and started walking over to the bench. She wore an unremarkable grey hooded sweater and jeans. Anyone observing the park for a long time might have wondered how she'd arrived there without ever having crossed the road, but no one was looking. She sat down on the bench next to Professor Derius and let down her hood down revealing a pretty mop of reddish-gold hair. She looked across at the Professor with a slightly sad looking pair of blue eyes.

"Is that it?" she said, pointing to the cup.

A corner of Derius's lip twitched slightly. "You expected something more - remarkable?" he asked.

The young woman stared at the cup for a moment. "I don't know what I expected." She quickly looked up at Derius, a flash of hardened determination in her eyes. "Will it work?"

Derius didn't answer right away. He studied her closely for a moment, then turned his attention back to the cup.

"It will work," he said quietly. He smiled a disquieting, evil sort of smile. "Full of magical fingerprints," he mused, almost to himself. "In a few days time I will return this cup to its owner, my dear," he said to the woman. "By that time, I will have everything I need and no one will be any the wiser. Not, that is, until it is much too late."

Derius reached into his pocket and took out a watch. As he did so, his hand moved away from the handle of his walking stick. The woman shifted her eyes as he did so. The design on the top of the cane looked somewhat familiar. It was some sort of animal. A snake, perhaps? No, it wasn't so much like a snake. Perhaps -

"I have other business to attend to," said Derius quickly, cutting into the woman's thoughts. He smiled, a more reassuring, almost fatherly smile. "Should my efforts with the Chalice fail, it is important that we succeed on other fronts."

"And what if you're wrong about all of this?"

"But, my dear," said Derius, sounding a little surprised. "I am not wrong."

And without another word, he got to his feet and walked slowly and deliberately toward the three maple trees at the end of the park. Cars rushed to either side of the small island formed by the trees. Their drivers chatted away on mobile phones, listened to grim reports of faraway conflicts on the news, and even focused some of their attention on the twisting traffic in front of them. None noticed Professor Derius vanish into thin air.

***

Harry felt his feet sink into very moist ground as he Apparated to the letter's instructions. A keen wind dug into his face. It was cold here, much colder than it had been at Hogwarts. Thick globs of rain fell onto his face. He quickly raised his wand and set up an Impervius charm. The rain bounced away from him as he walked but he could do nothing to stop the wind from biting his face. He huddled his arms into his cloak and looked around in an effort to get his bearings. This was almost impossible, though, as he found himself in the midst of a thick, soupy fog. He took one or two cautious steps forward but then stopped as he heard, above the howling of the wind, the sounds of waves crashing hard against rocks. It seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby, yet not right beside him. Harry looked down at his feet again to see that he was standing on a squishy, moss-covered surface. He could just about make out large rocks jutting out intermittently from the earth around him. Harry took one or two cautious steps forward. He could see something bright and orange flapping about in the wind not far in front of him. Cautiously, he walked toward it.

The sounds of the waves grew slightly louder and Harry's steps grew more cautious. He was almost on top of the bright orange something when he finally saw that it was a long piece of plastic tied between two pieces of wood. Looking more closely, he could see that it extended past the pieces of wood on both sides. There was something written on it. Taking hold of it in his hand to stop the flapping from the wind, Harry saw that it read:

DANGER DO NOT CROSS RESTRICTED ACCESS RAF

Harry looked out into the fog beyond the warning sign. He moved a piece of earth with the corner of his heel and watched as pebbles and bits of mud tumbled down from the ledge into oblivion.

He instinctively took a large step backward but continued to look at the sign. RAF? he thought. The name sounded familiar somehow but he couldn't quite place -

Harry's thoughts came to an abrupt halt with a deafening roar that started from somewhere just above him. A tremendous force knocked him to his knees. He dug his nails into the ground spread-eagled to avoid falling over the side of what was obviously a cliff. Then suddenly the sound and the force that had knocked him down were gone as suddenly as they'd come. Harry looked up to see what had caused the roar but whatever it was had gone.

"I wouldn't get too close to the edge, Harry."

Harry instinctively drew out his wand and whirled around.

"It's only me."

Harry sighed heavily and put the wand back in his pocket.

"Sorry," he said.

"Quite all right," replied Remus Lupin, walking toward him through the fog like a cloaked scepter. "I suppose we'll have to get used to taking precautions again."

"Where are we?" demanded Harry. "What was - what was that noise?"

"An airplane," replied Remus matter-of-factly.

"An air - I've never heard a plane like that before."

"A military fighter jet of some sort. A very dangerous Muggle toy. We'd better get moving, Harry. Muggles like to divide up their lands into little pieces and I don't think I have to tell you they can get quite nasty if you find yourself in the wrong bit."

Harry nodded. He pulled himself up and dusted some of the mud off his robes.

Remus drew out his own wand. "Lumos. Point Me. This way," he said, pointing out his wand into a foggy patch of earth that straddled the edge. "Oh, I know where we're going," he said to Harry as the latter hesitated. "I've been here before, though it's been a long time, I'll admit. Just watch your footing."

Harry nodded and followed cautiously.

"Will there be any more of those - planes?"

"Possibly, Harry, just stay close."

Harry drew up alongside Remus as they walked.

"I hadn't expected to hear from you so soon," he said.

"The potion and I are getting rather more used to one another," Remus replied with a wry smile, though Harry couldn't help but notice a fresh scar under his chin. "And having Tonks nearby helps things. Not that I wouldn't kill her if she was with me, but, all the same." Remus gave Harry a slightly resigned shrug.

Harry didn't respond right away. They continued to walk across the rough terrain until Remus abruptly took a turn to his right and straight for the orange warning tape.

"Careful!" said Harry, catching onto his cloak.

"It's all right. I know what I'm doing. Just follow me and do what I do."

Remus gently ducked under the warning tape and tried his footing on the other side. His ankles disappeared into the fog but the upper part of his body was still visible. He turned back to Harry who cautiously slid under the tape behind him. He placed a foot gingerly down in the fog until it made contact with a small muddy outcrop.

"It's a path of sorts," said Remus, walking down another step. "You'd see it if the weather was better. Careful, though. It's bound to be a bit slippery."

Remus led the way cautiously down the path followed closely by Harry. Harry could hear the sea crashing to the waves below them more and more loudly as they walked but still he could not see it. Once he almost lost his balance but Remus reached back with a surprising deftness and grabbed his cloak to steady him.

"I must apologize, Harry," he said between steps. "I didn't mean to call you here on such short notice. I thought it would take me longer than this but I managed to get our friend into agreeing to let you talk to him. I was frightened if I waited any longer, he might change his mind."

"Where are we anyway?"

Remus took a long careful step onto another rock. "We're on what the Muggles call the Shetland Islands." He pointed out toward the sea. "Azkaban is a hundred miles or so to the southeast. The weather's a bit more hospitable there."

"Who would want to live here?"

"Someone who doesn't want to be found, Harry. I'm hoping you can persuade him that your island will make a more amenable hiding place than his present home."

Remus said something more but Harry couldn't make it out. The waves were getting louder now and it was difficult to keep up a conversation so he just concentrated on following Remus' lead. They continued to walk further down the path. Once or twice, he lost his footing but he managed to pirouette and recover. It wasn't long before he began to taste the salty spray of the sea coming up from the rocks below them; he wondered how close they were. Twice the fog parted long enough for Harry to see the winding path extend down ahead of them toward the rocks below. The second time it happened, he could see the path take a turn to the left. As it did so, Harry got a very brief glimpse of an abandoned house that looked like it had been carved into the side of the cliff. It was very small: two boarded-up windows framed a ground floor; one much smaller boarded-up window crowned what could best be described as an enlarged attic. The foundations of the house were pitched at an angle away from them; it was obvious that the bottom of the attic must have fallen into the house. A dilapidated porched entranceway crowned a handle-less front door. Two planks of wood from the porch dangled down onto the cliff below. As Harry watched, a fresh surge of spray rose up all the way to do the door, then spread across the porch causing the loose planks to dip further. Both corners of the porch were covered in moss. The entire house looked as though it would collapse any moment. In fact, it seemed surprising that it hadn't done so already. There was nothing supporting it from below. It was as though the whole structure was being held up by magic, which Harry realized, after a moment's reflection, it probably was.

"Is that where we're going?" asked Harry, but his words were lost in the wind. A fresh wave of fog blew in front of them rendering the path invisible again. Once or twice, Harry even lost sight of Remus, but he kept following the path which finally began to curve to the left. The sound of the waves was deafening now.

Remus abruptly stopped and turned to shout into Harry's ear.

"We're almost there. Watch out for the moss on the stones. It gets very slippery here."

Harry did as he was told. They had only walked a few steps when a wave crested up over the rocks toward them and Harry found icy water seeping over his ankles into his shoes. If he'd known he'd be battling a cliff over the North Sea, he would have dressed very differently that morning.

The path took another left back toward the cliff face. The abandoned house loomed directly in front of them. Harry took a closer look at the makeshift porch and stopped short but Remus continued to walk forward without hesitation until he'd reached the front door. He wrapped his knuckles loudly against it.

"It's all right," he cried back at Harry who remained standing on the last stone step. "You won't fall through."

Harry took a cautious step onto the porch. Surprisingly, he felt little give. With even more caution, he planted his second foot on the porch also. The ground on which he was standing felt as solid as rock.

Remus turned his attention back to the door and knocked again. Still, there was no answer. He sighed. After a moment's pause, he turned back to face Harry with a resigned expression. He seemed about to say something when the door suddenly shifted inward. Remus turned back to look at it for a moment, then cautiously pushed it all the way open and walked inside. Harry followed right behind him just as he could hear another loud wave rushing up the rocks toward them.

Harry felt momentarily disoriented as he stepped into the house. It was dark inside. It took him a moment to realize that Remus was talking to him again.

"I said you'd better close the door, Harry," said Remus. "We don't want to let any water in."

"Right." Harry quickly did as he was told. A latch near the top of the door fell into place with a sharp click. It was followed, however, by silence. The sound of the waves crashing on rocks just below them had been nearly deafening the moment before, but now they could hear nothing. They could not even hear the sound of the driving rain on the outside of the house's unsturdy frame. The collapsing foundation Harry had glimpsed from the pathway did not shake in the slightest from the strong wind outside.

But still it was pitch dark. Harry couldn't imagine how anyone or anything could want to live in a place like this.

"Hiding again?" Remus called out in a confident voice.

There was a response.

"I know Harry well and I don't think he'd come all this way just to give up the chase and leave, so you might as well show yourself now."

Harry reflected that for his own part, he wasn't so sure. Another moment passed. He found himself wondering what Remus would do next when a small lantern flickered into existence just a few meters in front of him. An ancient looking mahogany table slowly formed around it. A moment later, another lamp came on. Before too long, an entire small sitting room was bathed in dim but inviting light. The contours of a long mahogany sofa came into view. Two smaller chairs and a long table in front of it had been pushed over, however, and parchments and an upside-down inkstand littered an intricately-patterned Persian rug. It was as though a thief had arrived and ransacked the house in search of some precious object and then either had stopped as soon as he'd found it or thought better of his plans and fled. On either side of the long sofa were two large bookcases whose shelves buckled under the weight of many large and ancient-looking tomes. On the top shelf of each bookcase sat an array of valuable-looking plates and plaques which looked like trophies or gifts of some sort. Harry thought he saw the Hogwarts crest on one.

He might have looked further but his attention was drawn to the center of the sofa. There on its sunken middle sat a plump, bald, elderly man with an untidy looking handlebar moustache. He sat perfectly motionless looking straight in Harry's direction. A faint twitch in his left eye was the only sign that he was still among the living.

"Harry," said Remus, turning toward him with a wry smile. "I'd like to introduce you to Professor Horace Slughorn."