The Chalice of Morgridar

Chapter 5

In Open Disguise

Harry walked over to Slughorn and cautiously held out his hand.

"How do you do?" he said.

Slughorn continued to stare straight ahead, almost as though he'd been petrified. Given the ramshackle state of the room, Harry began to think he had. He was about to say as much to Lupin, when Slughorn suddenly straightened up and let out a belly-aching, room-shaking laugh.

"It really is Harry Potter, isn't it?" he said.

"You and Harry have a great deal in common, Horace," said Remus before Harry could respond. "Horace once taught at Hogwarts, too, Harry, as Potions Master."

So that explained the trophies and gifts on the top of the bookshelves, Harry thought. He'd thought he'd seen the Hogwarts crest. But so many.

Too late Harry realized that his gaze had drifted over to the bookcases again, this time apparently a little too ostentatiously. Having broken out of his catatonic state, Slughorn now seemed to be watching him with a keen eye.

"Pretty things, aren't they?" he said in a moderate bellow. "Many of them were given me by my admirers." He gave Harry a small wink. "It's important to make the right connections, you know."

"As a Hogwarts teacher?" said Harry, a little incredulously.

Slughorn's eyes widened. "Oh, yes, my boy, oho yes! Have you ever considered that any wizard worthy of office in the Ministry must first pass through seven years of your lessons? It's not as though they're likely to go anywhere else. Unless much more has changed than I'd thought?" He looked questioningly at Harry for a brief moment, before deciding to answer his own question. "Of course not!" Slughorn began to play with the corners of his moustache in a burst of nervous excitement. "Take that goblet over there," he said, pointing to long necked silver cup adorned with the Hogwarts crest. "That was given to me by old Ernest Cravenlock as a small token of his gratitude after becoming - "

Remus cleared his throat loudly.

"I think perhaps we'd better get down to the business for which we came, Horace," he said. "Harry's come a long way and I think it would be wise if we didn't stay past dark."

The smile on Slughorn's face abruptly faded. He straightened slightly in his seat.

"Very well. Let's get it over with then. Sit down, my boy."

Harry took a seat on the armchair that Slughorn had indicated. Remus righted a plain wooden chair that had fallen to the ground and sat down across from Harry. Both were facing Slughorn.

Remus looked down at the items strewn about on the rug in front of him.

"Trying to avoid us, Horace?" he said.

Slughorn looked between Remus and the floor a little furtively.

"I rushed into action when I saw you coming up the path. I wasn't sure if you'd seen my false intruder trick before. But then - " Slughorn broke off with a belly-tickling sigh. "I thought better of it, I suppose."

Harry felt very confused. Hadn't Remus said that this Slughorn had been expecting them? Looking at the portly figure in front of him who'd seemed completely mesmerized when they'd entered the cottage, Harry couldn't imagine how Slughorn could have arranged the half-messy room so quickly, or perhaps it was always like that? Harry supposed he'd done it all with magic, but it seemed incongruous all the same. He looked over to Remus but found only a serene-looking smile on his face.

"Used to avoiding people, Horace?"

Slughorn frowned. "It's been a habit for some time now, I fear. I'll admit it does make it difficult for friends and admirers to find me. But needs must, I'm afraid."

"I don't understand," said Harry finally. "Who are you running from? The war's over."

Slughorn's eyes widened. "Perhaps, my dear boy," he said, "but I fear that Death Eaters aren't the only ones whose ire I've aroused over the years. Cultivating influence can earn one powerful friends, but sometimes powerful enemies, too." He smiled at Harry apologetically. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that it's a simpler life if you stay unknown, but I'm afraid I became rather used to the attention."

"I'm sure it must be tiresome," said Remus. "How do you avoid the Muggles?"

Slughorn let out a guffaw. "Muggles see nothing and know nothing. How could they with the speed those horrible contraptions rush by? And this little cottage keeps me safe from all their sounds. No, life here isn't as bad as you might imagine." Slughorn smiled at Remus but it didn't look very convincing.

"So you say," said Remus slowly. "I think perhaps Harry can offer you a more pleasant alternative to your present existence, however, one that is both more comfortable and just as remote from anyone who might wish to bother you."

"I wondered as much," said Slughorn. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked you to come. Well, go on then, my boy," he said turning to Harry like a mouse that has sniffed out a piece of cheese. "I'm all ears, as it were."

Harry glanced quickly at Remus and saw that he, too, was looking expectantly in his direction. Harry found he had little idea what he was supposed to say next, however. Was it is his responsibility to persuade Slughorn that living on this island was somehow attractive, as Remus seemed to imply? Whatever Harry had thought he might be called upon to say to anyone Remus helped him to find, it wasn't to sell the island as a pleasant spot upon which any sensible wizard might wish to retire. Surely anyone worthy enough to succeed Dumbledore in protecting the island must have, instead, a spirit of self-sacrifice. The ideal candidate would see it as his duty to hold together the fragile balance between two worlds that must be kept from colliding at any cost. From what he had seen so far, he couldn't imagine how Slughorn could possibly be a viable choice. Granted that his magical abilities seemed enviable: he'd managed to keep this dilapidated cottage hidden and in one piece and he'd once been a Hogwarts teacher (although, Harry reflected, that didn't always indicate magical promise), but from what he had seen of Slughorn so far, it was obvious that he was mostly interested in himself. Harry couldn't imagine what Remus had been thinking bringing him here, but he decided he owed it to him to keep up the appearance of considering Slughorn. And so, after a moment's pause, Harry launched into a very awkward attempt to make Dumbledore's island sound as comfortable as he could.

"Well, it's much warmer than here," he said, realizing how ridiculous he must sound. "It never rains," he added, trying to sound hopeful. "And there's all sorts of protections guarding the island so it's very hard for anyone to get in, unless you want them to, that is."

Slughorn looked from Remus to Harry suspiciously.

"And what of my accommodation?" he asked. "Will I be able to bring all of my possessions?" He looked back protectively at the bookcases behind him.

Harry thought for a moment. Where exactly had Dumbledore lived while he'd been on the island? He realized he hadn't given much thought to such practicalities. Although he had owned a great many things, Dumbledore had never seemed to value them. Comforts of ordinary life, so obviously prized by Slughorn, also seemed to have interested Dumbledore little. Harry had no difficulty imagining Dumbledore perfectly content sleeping out under the stars.

Then again, he had built something on the island, hadn't he? There was that sort of Chinese verandah. But where had it led to? Harry struggled to recall but his mind seemed a blur. Even his waking visit to the island earlier this year now seemed like a dream.

He looked across at Slughorn and tried to sound as confident as possible.

"Dumbledore lived in a house - of sorts. I think that anyone living on the island could probably conjure up whatever structures they wanted and they could always be magically enlarged if needed."

"I doubt you'd find it beyond your abilities, Horace," added Remus, and Harry felt grateful to hear him come to his defense.

"And my responsibilities?" asked Slughorn, looking more doubtful.

"Well," said Harry, trying to think as quickly as he could. "Whoever guards the island is responsible for maintaining the balance between the world of the living and the world of the dead. The island, as I understand it, exists because it has something of the properties of the world beyond the gateway inside it. Those forces must be kept from coming into our world."

"And how would one go about doing that?"

Harry paused and sighed slowly. "I'm sorry, I don't know," he said. "Dumbledore never shared the specifics with me - or anyone else as far as I know. I thought perhaps that, well, that you might know something about it yourself." He looked over to Remus for help but his former mentor only glanced at him stoically. "I thought perhaps - "

Harry stopped talking as Slughorn started slowly shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, my boy, but I would no more - "

"Come now, Horace."

Harry turned around quickly to look at Remus. There was a sharpness in his voice that surprised him, a sharpness matched by the severity of the expression on his face.

"This is not a game," said Remus in a tone that suggested Slughorn had mistakenly believed it was. "A great many lives are at stake. Perhaps every life. And you may be the only one who can help us."

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," said Slughorn stiffly.

"Really, don't you?" said Remus derisively.

Slughorn didn't reply but stared back at Remus as though he had been deeply betrayed. He suddenly seemed very different from the frightened, nervous figure who had sat mesmerized when they'd first entered the room. He had the sudden impression that it would be unwise to cross Horace Slughorn. Then, just as quickly, the look on their host's face changed again. He looked sober and thoughtful but not as threatening. He turned to Harry.

"I will consider your offer - if it is an offer, that is."

"Well - "

"We will consider each other. Agreed?"

Harry nodded, trying again not to show his reluctance outwardly.

Slughorn suddenly smiled and turned to Remus.

"A drink, my friend?" he suggested.

"I don't think so, Horace," replied Remus, still eyeing Slughorn suspiciously. He got to his feet. "Perhaps some other time. As I said, Harry has other responsibilities this evening and so do I. We've said what we came here to say."

"Indeed, you did," replied Slughorn non-commit ally. With what looked like supreme effort, he pushed up on the sides of his sofa to get to his feet, but Remus motioned him to stay put.

"No need, Horace," he said. "Harry and I will show ourselves out."

Harry got to his feet and felt once again a bit of the North Sea in his sock. They turned to walk toward the door. Remus reached for the door handle but then drew back and turned to face Slughorn again.

"One more thing," he said. "It's possible that Harry may need to contact you again."

No, it isn't, thought Harry. I'm never setting foot in this place again.

But he didn't openly contradict Remus. Instead, he turned around to see Slughorn's reaction. The old Defense Against the Dark Arts master looked at his younger replacement suspiciously for a moment, then nodded again.

"Good," said Remus brusquely, then he opened the door and led Harry back out into the storm.

***

It was just as it had been two weeks before. Businesswizards and businesswitches running home from their offices; shoppers, some with small children in hand, rushing to complete their purchases as the shops closed. The loud cracks of Apparition echoed everywhere around the small, enclosed alley yet they were magically unheard by the wide Muggle streets that surrounded it on all sides.

In the fading light of a late autumn afternoon, no one noticed a solitary wizard climb the stone steps up to the entrance to Gringotts. He very much hoped to keep it that way.

He paused for a moment as he reached the closed bronze doors that barred the entrance to the bank. The picture of the older wizard with his monocle-covered eye laughing somewhere far away became clearer and clearer in his mind. If he'd wanted to trick him, however, why had he even bothered to contact him again? Now that he had the Chalice, why couldn't he just disappear unnoticed? Indeed, the wizard had found himself a little surprised when he hadn't.

He stood on the steps nervously for a few more minutes then, realizing that he was standing right out in the open and with every passing moment stood a greater likelihood of being seen, the wizard knocked cautiously on one of the heavy brass doors. They vibrated ominously as he did so; anyone remaining inside could surely hear them. The wizard let a few moments pass, trying to remain patient, but no one came to answer his knock.

Of course they didn't, he thought. Gringotts closed at half past four as it had for centuries. Every wizard and witch would know that. He was very tempted to give up the chase and return. Was the Chalice worth all this trouble anyway? He looked at his watch and realized he was going to be late getting back. Perhaps -

The wizard stopped short as he saw a flicker of movement through the narrow window to the left of the doors. He peered through the window more closely to see a goblin trotting across the main hall of the bank just beyond a second set of silver doors inside. The goblin glanced casually down toward the entrance. He must have noticed the wizard looking through the window but he chose to continue on his way. The wizard banged on the door again, more loudly this time. The goblin stopped and looked again in his direction.

"Excuse me!" the wizard cried out, unsure whether his voice could be heard inside. "I'm looking for - "

But the goblin turned around and went on his way again.

He couldn't be bothered, the wizard thought to himself. Of course, why should he be?

The wizard sighed. He should leave now, he decided to himself. This whole thing was pointless. No doubt this wizard, whomever he was, had taken the Chalice, sold it to buy himself a couple of meals and was now somewhere laughing at his expense. The wizard gave the left door a noisy aggravated kick, then turned to leave.

But just as he turned to walk away, the wizard noticed out of the corner of his eye that two goblins were now talking to each other. He thought that one of them might have been the one he'd seen the moment before though, admittedly, he found it difficult to tell them apart. The wizard paused in mid turn long enough to see one of the goblins walk slowly in his direction. Curious, he turned back around to face the doors, then wondered almost immediately if he shouldn't have. Perhaps the goblin was coming to register his displeasure at the wizard kicking the door. Perhaps he would even be fined. How would he explain that?

Yet the wizard's curiosity quickly overwhelmed his concerns. The goblin was coming to talk to him and he was going to see what it would say.

The goblin took his time reaching the wizard. He slowly walked to the inner silver doors and fished out a set of keys, considering each carefully in his hand before inserting the correct one into the lock. At last he opened the doors and moved toward the outer brass doors outside which the wizard was standing. He looked up over his long nose at the wizard on the other side of the window with the same dour, condescending expression goblins always seemed to use when addressing wizard-kind. Then he took hold of the set of keys in his hand and slowly repeated the same ritual again. Finally, the outer doors opened and the wizard was face-to-face with the goblin.

So he had been expected, thought the wizard. He prepared to walk in through the entrance but the goblin held up a restraining hand.

"Gringotts is closed," he reported.

Then he turned back and shut the doors again but the wizard stuck his foot out and blocked the way. The goblin looked back up at him with a dangerous expression.

"Wait!" said the wizard. "I'm here to see Mr. Derius."

The goblin froze. For a fleeting moment, there was a look of fear on his face that seemed out of place for his kind. Then the same expression of annoyed condescension returned as he slowly gestured his hand in the direction of the open entranceway.

"In that case," he said, "follow me."

***

"S-S-S-Siosia."

"Over here," Siosia whispered back.

Squinting in the darkness of the corridor, she could just about make out Christopher walking toward her. His skinny frame was clad entirely in black just as Nybyn had instructed. The only thing distinguishing him from the darkness behind was the chalky white of his face which looked like a disembodied spirit as he walked toward Siosia.

"Y-y-y-you can s-still see me," he whispered, crouching down next to her.

"We're not very invisible," Siosia muttered back, shifting her body further into a dusty corner and pulling her knees toward her face to disguise herself.

"N - n - n - no."

Siosia paused for a moment, then sighed. "I can't believe I let myself get talked into this."

"N - n - not j-just y-y-y-y-you."

"Are we in the right place?"

"Y-yes. Sh-sh-sh-she said t-t-to th-th-the left of the d-d-door just under the st-st-statue of M-M-Merwyn the M-Malicious."

"And we have the time right?"

"J-j-just a-a-after d-d-d-dinner sh-sh-she s-s-s-said, I-I-I-I th-thought."

"I thought so, too." Siosia sighed. "Then where is he?"

"Sh-she."

"What?"

Siosia could just make out Christopher shrugging.

"Sh-sh-she. She's a sh-she."

Siosia shook her head. "No, he's definitely a he. You can't call him a - "

"Actually, it rather depends on your perspective."

Both Christopher and Siosia screamed.

A familiar peal of laughter followed the screaming along with an admonishing "ssshhh." The standing silhouette of Nybyn emerged from a patch of darkness between them and the statue. Squinting, Siosia could see that it looked as though part of the statue was etched onto the side of the Windylsyde's face. As he crouched down and pivoted to face them so that his back was to the darkened corridor, he became completely invisible. Siosia could only tell where exactly he was sitting when the disembodied voice came out of the darkness right in front of her.

"Don't scream. You might arouse it."

"It?" said Siosia.

"The three-headed dog."

"I-i-it's-ss n-n-not still h-here, is i-it?" asked Christopher.

"It depends on which ghost you talk to. Personally, I'd rather not take my chances. Anyway, how do you like my disguise?"

"Terrific," replied Siosia sarcastically. "How about our disguises or do you think these outfits will do it? I thought you said the hidden room, whatever it is, was lit."

Siosia sensed rather than saw Nybyn smile.

"There are one or two darkened corners to hide in but, I agree, you'd be spotted immediately. That's why I brought this."

Siosia heard what sounded like the shuffling of robes and felt Nybyn put a small bottle into her hands. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Christopher receive one as well.

"Now drink up," said Nybyn.

"Wait," said Siosia. "What is this?"

"Windylsydes use it to protect our livestock from attackers. They can't camouflage on their own, you see, like we can."

"L-l-l-livestock," repeated Christopher. "W-w-we're n-not a-a-animals."

"Too right we're not," Siosia agreed.

Nybyn giggled. "Oh, but you are; isn't it interesting? No harm will come to you, I promise. I even took some myself. I told you I still can't disguise myself perfectly. The effect wears off after an hour or two."

"I don't know," said Siosia, eyeing the bottle dubiously.

Nybyn sighed. "If you doubt your curiosity is sufficient to embolden you," he said in a conversational tone, "then by all means don't drink it. No one is forcing you."

Siosia felt the bottle snatched back away from her.

"Hey, give me that!" she said.

With a quick burst of effort, she twisted open a small top and raised the bottle to her mouth. An acrid smell filled her nostrils.

"I should drink the whole thing?" she asked, uncertainty returning to her voice.

"The whole thing."

Siosia closed her eyes and raised the small bottle to her lips, throwing its contents back in a single gulp. The potion was horribly bitter and burned her mouth and esophagus as she swallowed it. Her head felt slightly woozy.

"Oh, it's foul!" she declared. She reached out an unsteady hand toward Christopher's shoulder. "Don't drink it, whatever - "

But Christopher was already handing his own empty bottle back to Nybyn. He turned to look at Siosia.

"I-i-it's all right," he said. "Y-y-your h-h-head will cl-clear in a m-moment."

Siosia looked at Christopher. His face was blurry, but after a moment, it seemed to clear.

"No ill effects?" asked Nybyn.

Siosia hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. Then she looked down at her hands. She could still see them.

"It's not working," she said.

"It takes time."

"How much time?"

"Believe me, you'll be fully disguised by the time they get here. They're not due for another - "

Nybyn stopped in mid-sentence. Siosia and Christopher froze also. They had all heard something. Obscured by their own talking, it was hard to tell where it had been coming from. Siosia felt her heart start to race as her mind filled with images of Fluffy the three-headed dog walking stealthily toward them in the darkness, his significant noses having scented them out even as they remained obscured from sight. But then another sound rang out, one much nearer to them. This time it was obvious what it was and where it had come from. Siosia, Christopher, and Nybyn watched wide-eyed as the door to the outer corridor through which they had entered slowly creaked open again.

***

It had been some time since the wizard had felt fear - real fear - not simply angst and worry about what the immediate future might hold but fear for his safety. The fear had always been there during the war, barely underneath the surface, a constant companion whose presence he had not ever completely realized had been there until it had finally gone away. It was a feeling he'd never confessed to his family or friends but he'd had no illusions that he hadn't been the only one who had felt it.

The goblin was leading him deeper and deeper into the catacombs of Gringotts, further than he'd ever been on trips to his family's own meager vault. They'd moved quickly across the main hall and he'd tried not to make eye contact with the goblins who still remained in the bank. Wondering how long it had been since a wizard had ventured into Gringotts after hours, the wizard had feared he might be accused of stealing some trade secret. His goblin escort had seemed just as vexed and determined to lead the wizard out of the hall before any of the other goblins could ask him questions.

Or perhaps that's how he'd wanted it to look. Certainly, none of the goblins had missed him being there. But would any of them care or dare to question if he never came back?

They had passed through a door behind a desk in the corner of the hall that the wizard was sure did not lead to the regular vaults. They had then traveled deep into the catacombs beneath the bank in one of the usual Gringotts carts. Finally, the railway tracks on which the cart had maneuvered had come to an end and the goblin had led the wizard further on foot through a narrow and seemingly little-used tunnel. They'd continued to move downward.

The lanterns in the passageway above them now grew dimmer and more intermittent. The wizard realized he was slowing down. The goblin realized it, too, because he kept beckoning him forward anxiously.

"Where are we going?" the wizard asked.

The goblin did not reply. He just kept on walking. Reluctantly, the wizard followed. They walked on for a few more minutes when the steep path ahead of them began to level out again. Squinting, the wizard could just about make out a row of doors on his right. Metal and featureless, they might have been vaults, but something told the wizard they were not. He was still looking at them curiously when the goblin suddenly stopped and banged on the door of the third one along.

At first there was no response. The goblin waited for a moment. The wizard opened his mouth to ask him what was inside when the goblin suddenly banged on the door a second time. This time it creaked slowly open.

Stepping aside in an uncharacteristically courteous manner, the goblin gestured for the wizard to enter. The wizard eyed him warily but the goblin didn't quite meet his gaze. The wizard swung the door open more widely. He was surprised to find himself looking into what appeared to be a small but plush office. A single desk lamp lit a comfortable looking desk chair ringed with red felt. The chair was pulled into a long mahogany desk. In the other corner of the room facing the desk was an even more comfortable looking leather armchair. The cherry wood floor was crowned with an elaborate Persian rug. Around the sides of the windowless room were rows of oak bookcases, each filled with old but well-maintained tomes. There was only one break in the bookcases beyond which a paneled wall could be seen. Hanging on that wall was a single picture frame, its interior completely black. The wizard wondered whether its occupant had left, but somehow he sensed there had never been one there in the first place. It didn't seem meant for a portrait at all. Curiosity overcoming his fear, the wizard stepped forward to examine the picture frame more closely. As soon as he did so, however, he heard the door close behind him and click shut.

"Hey!" he cried out.

Forcing his panic down, the wizard took a single large step back to the door and pounded on it loudly.

"Let me out!"

No response. The wizard pounded again.

"Let me - "

"Calm yourself, my young friend."

The wizard spun. Seated on the felt-covered chair that a moment before had been completely empty was the older wizard who had taken the Chalice away from him two weeks earlier. Like the first time the younger wizard had laid eyes on him, his snow white hair was immaculately groomed and he wore a long black woolen robe that looked like it had just been purchased fresh off the rack at Madam Malkin's - or perhaps Twilfitt and Tatting's. He bore nothing of his disheveled appearance from their last meeting. The younger wizard found his emotions spiraling quickly from fear, to surprise, and then to anger. It was obvious he had been tricked.

And yet there was the Chalice. It was sitting on the desk right in front of the older wizard. He gestured a hand toward it and the younger wizard noticed for the first time that he was wearing a gold ring crowned with a blue stone.

"I don't understand," the younger wizard said, feeling confused again. "When I came in here just a moment ago - "

"The room was empty," finished the older wizard. "Or so you thought."

"Yeah, right," said the younger wizard. He mustered his indignation again. He didn't like being manipulated. "So how did you get in here?"

"I Apparated," replied the older wizard, his eyes full of innocence.

"Why didn't I hear the sound?"

"You were too busy banging on the door."

There was a pause. The older wizard locked eyes with the younger who quickly sensed he wasn't about to win a battle of wills. He turned his gaze away.

"In any case," said the older wizard slowly, sounding confident he had the upper hand in the exchange. "Here is your Chalice. Right as rain. You have my compliments."

The older wizard gently pushed the Chalice an inch closer to the end of the desk and toward the younger wizard. Their eyes locked again and there was no mistaking that the older wizard wanted him to take the Chalice and leave without question, but the younger wizard forced himself to stand firm.

"So you're Mr. Derius?" he asked.

"That is one of the names I have used," came the enigmatic reply.

"And you work here - at Gringotts?"

"Hardly. The goblins work at Gringotts. I am merely their client. A very powerful client."

The younger wizard stared back at Derius incredulously.

"The last time I saw you, you looked homeless, abandoned, and near death. That was just two weeks ago. You expect me to believe that, in that time, you've taken yourself from that to having your own little office in Gringotts?"

"You may believe what you wish, sir," replied Derius silkily. "That is the power of the Chalice. That power will be yours now, too, to do with whatever you wish. I imagine your desires are simpler than mine. For that, part of me envies you. Perhaps for that reason, I feel it my duty to warn you that our business has now concluded satisfactorily. I would consider any further questions a breach of my personal privacy. I am man with few vices but intolerance to the curiosity of others is, regrettably, one of them."

Derius leaned forward as he spoke the last few words. There was a hardened look in his eyes now and the younger wizard found himself wanting to turn away even more. He suddenly felt a sense of fear and panic rush through him again, almost as if Derius had willed it so.

"Now good day to you, sir."

The younger wizard didn't need further prompting. Without looking Derius in the eye, he reached down and took the Chalice into his hand. He quickly opened the door and walked out closing it behind him. To his relief, he saw that the goblin was standing outside waiting for him. For a strange moment, it looked back up at him and the wizard thought he could once again see fear that mirrored his own, then the goblin turned and led him wordlessly back the way they had come.

***

Siosia froze. She scarcely dared open her mouth to breathe as the Gryffindor Prefect Robert walked into the corridor, his silhouette momentarily illuminated by the light from the open door. Siosia watched in horror as the light traveled closer to their hiding place. It had almost reached them when Robert took a quick glance to the Charms corridor behind him and then carefully but quickly shut the door sending their corridor once again into darkness.

Without pausing, Robert walked straight in their direction. Siosia held her breath and pushed back even closer to the wall. But then Robert walked right past them, not once looking in their direction. It was obvious he was heading for the secret room at the other side of the corridor. Siosia allowed herself to briefly exhale in quiet relief. That relief quickly evaporated, however, when Nybyn got to his feet and motioned them to follow.

Siosia looked over at Christopher. She could still make him out which meant that the potion hadn't yet taken effect. She stood up as well but made no move forward. Nybyn glided forward a few steps himself. On finding he was alone, however, he quickly made another waving motion to Christopher and Siosia.

Siosia thought of protesting that there was no way they wouldn't be seen but she didn't dare make any sound, not even a whisper. Out of the corner of her eye, she sensed Christopher getting up. He turned to her for a quick moment then followed Nybyn. A reluctant moment passed, but then Siosia followed them also.

Nybyn was so quiet, it seemed he was gliding rather than walking on the stone floor. She and Christopher were also relatively quiet having followed Nybyn's instructions to put silencing charms on the soles of their shoes. Their silence was aided by the noisy tread of Robert's own feet. For someone who himself wasn't supposed to be in this restricted section any more than they were, Robert seemed to be strutting around as though the whole place belonged to him.

Siosia looked down and was relieved to see that her hands were beginning to fade. She was virtually invisible. She could barely see Christopher and Nybyn in the darkness ahead. Suddenly, Robert abruptly stopped in front of another statue. She let out an involuntarily gasp as she found herself cannoning into the back of an invisible Nybyn. She looked up, catching her breath, certain that Robert must have heard her, but it quickly became apparent that he was completely preoccupied.

He took out his wand and began muttering a lengthy spell. She leaned forward trying to catch some of the words but it was impossible to make them out clearly. She wondered if Nybyn was standing even closer or perhaps, as he had claimed to them that lunchtime, he had already memorized the spell.

The spell went on for so long, it seemed almost mesmerizing. Suddenly, Robert stopped talking, took a step forward and vanished into what appeared to be solid wall. Siosia blinked twice, certain her eyes must be playing tricks on her. Before she had time to think any further, however, she felt Nybyn tug on her sleeve and propel her toward the wall where Robert had just vanished. She felt Christopher half-collide into her as he moved forward also. Siosia wasn't at all sure what was happening, but once again, she was afraid that if she resisted, Robert would hear them.

Siosia was right on top of the spot where Robert had vanished before she realized that where a wall had been before, there was now an open space. She felt herself pulled through into a dank, cold room. It was completely dark. She could hear Robert stop just ahead of them but she had no sense of where he or they were standing.

And then suddenly the room was bathed in light.

Siosia had not yet fully managed to take this in when she felt herself being pulled backwards and onto the floor into the far corner of the room near the door. She hit the ground hard on her backside but managed not to cry out. Then she felt part of a black cloak falling over her face. It smelt like a dead animal and it was all Siosia could do not to retch.

"Stay still," said Nybyn's voice in her ear. "You're not quite invisible yet."

There was a sudden flash of light in the background and a small whining noise. Siosia very much wanted to part back the folds of Nybyn's cloak so she could see what was happening, not to mention that her eyes were starting to water from the smell, but she forced herself to sit still. A moment later, the light and noise had gone.

"Mr. Mince."

Siosia felt as though her insides had turned to ice. That wasn't Robert's voice. There was someone else in the room. But who? How? The room had been empty when the lights had come on. Or had it? Nybyn had moved her out of the way so fast that she hadn't had the chance to look around properly.

"Where are your companions?"

It was an older man's voice. Very old, Siosia decided. Well-educated. A bit like a Hogwarts teacher. But not a voice she recognized.

"They'll be arriving soon, sir," Robert replied. "I wanted to see you before they came. I need to talk to you after we meet as a group."

"Whatever it is you have to say, you can tell me now."

"There's not time." Robert sounded rushed. "I just wanted to make sure that you could meet me - "

"Regrettably not," Derius replied before he had finished. "I have some important business to attend to as soon as we're finished here. I could return tomorrow night if you wish."

"Tomorrow night," repeated Robert. He seemed to think for a moment. "All right."

"Keeping things from your companions, Mr. Mince? Hardly the basis for forming trust. You must stay wary of your enemies but also know your friends. That is how any great Gryffindor has come to succeed. Do you think that Harry Potter could have conquered Lord Voldemort without help?"

Siosia felt a sudden rush of anger. Whoever this was - and she felt certain he was up to no good - he had no right to use her father as an example. And as if this Robert was the kind of person who should be carrying on his legacy. She was his daughter. She was the true Gryffindor, whatever the Sorting Hat might think and this Robert was obviously the worst kind of Slytherin.

"Of course not, sir," replied Robert and Siosia found herself with the difficult task of repressing her feelings to concentrate on what he was saying. "But we can't be too cautious as I'm sure you agree."

There was a pause.

"As a personal favor to you, Mr. Mince, I will reserve my judgment until I've heard what you have to say."

"Thank you, Professor."

"And now take your leave and find your associates. I will speak to you all again shortly."

There was another flashing light. Siosia very much wanted to peer out from Nybyn's cloak to see what was going on but she didn't dare. A moment later, she heard Robert's footsteps walking out of the door away from them. Before she could react, the room plunged into darkness and the outer opening closed with a soft but ominous thud.

***

"Remarkable, Ginny. I don't think I've ever tasted such a tender nogtail soup." Remus wiped his hand on a napkin.

"Then you'll have another bowl?" asked Ginny, taking Remus' empty one from him.

"I'm embarrassed to say I think I will. It seems I should come here more often."

"It's Harry's recipe, actually," she said, flashing Harry an imperceptible wink. "It's one of his best."

It was the only he was capable of, Harry thought and he could see from the look in Ginny's eyes that she knew it, too, but she was kind enough not to say anything. He knew she could feel the dull edge of his pain, even beneath the shared amusement of a private joke. It was Ginny who had grown up learning wizard cooking and not Harry, and neither forgot why.

"I couldn't do it without her, though," said Harry, pushing his missing childhood away from his mind. "You should see her trapping them in the garden. Sometimes it frightens even me." A small smirk escaped his mouth.

Ginny shrugged. "They're better caught fresh. And there's nothing like a few good hexes to get out one's aggression after another day of failed bureaucracy." She calmly strode into the kitchen.

"It was good of you to come," said Harry, turning to Remus. "I hope Tonks won't mind if you're late."

"She knew I'd be gone and Ginny didn't know you'd be away for so long. It seemed the least I could do."

"You've done a lot," Harry insisted.

Remus looked back at him and the two wizards held each other's eyes for a moment. Harry could see right away that he'd failed to conceal his unease.

"Professor Slughorn wasn't what you expected, was he?" said Remus quietly.

Harry let out a small sigh. "I suppose not. Though truth be told, I'm not sure what I expected."

"Someone more loyal, perhaps," said Remus, a little ruefully.

"And less of a coward."

"And not in such transparent pursuit of his own ambition?"

There was another pause.

"If you can see all that, then why did you take me all that way to see him?"

Remus paused briefly to take his replenished bowl from Ginny, who had walked noiselessly back into their small dining room. She sat down next to Harry, took his hand in hers, and fixed a no less inquiring glance at her former teacher.

"Professor Slughorn is all of those things," Remus replied, looking at both of them. "You saw that for yourself, Harry, and your instincts are not wrong. However, he is also one of the sharpest wizards of his generation. You saw the way he planned for our arrival. It seems to me that whoever gets this post will have to be very good at keeping others off this island and I can think of few who would do that better than Horace Slughorn and, as I think you also saw, few who'd want to more. You might also be interested to know that he had Dumbledore's full confidence."

Harry had to admit he could see the first part of what Remus had told him, but he very much doubted the second. It was Ginny though, who spoke her feelings aloud:

"From what you've told us, I don't see how that could be."

Remus smiled wryly. "Would you be surprised if I told you both that Horace was Dumbledore's first choice to replace Professor Snape and take his old position as Potions Master? That was when Snape was to become acting headmaster in Dumbledore's absence your sixth year."

The look on Ginny's face made it clear that she was very much surprised. Harry suspected his own expression mirrored hers.

"He did," said Remus, still smiling. He leaned forward and swallowed a spoonful of soup.

"So what made him change his mind?" asked Ginny.

"I'm not sure, really," Remus replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "It was always wheels within wheels with Albus. Horace had been Potions teacher when Tom Riddle was a student at Hogwarts. It's before my time but there was some rumor that they'd been close. Horace always played favorites with students he found promising. Horace told him something, something he later regretted when he found what Riddle eventually did with the information. It seemed to me that he'd come clean with Dumbledore and that was why he trusted him."

"Like he trusted Snape?" said Harry.

"Possibly," agreed Remus, looking a little conflicted. "In any case, one day, whatever it was Dumbledore thought Horace knew wasn't important anymore. He'd thought of a different plan. And so he decided to go with the charade of having Snape pose as Professor Dibble."

"Perhaps it was because he realized he couldn't be trusted," said Ginny, still sounding suspicious.

"Perhaps," conceded Remus, "but I doubt it."

"Do you know what it was Slughorn shared with Voldemort?" asked Harry.

Remus frowned. "Something to do with Voldemort's immortality."

"Is it a good idea to put someone on that island who once gave information to Voldemort?" asked Ginny.

Remus shook his head, seeing where she was going with her question. "Believe me, it would. Horace is no Death Eater. And for all his outward pretensions, he's never gotten over the guilt. Perhaps if he went on that island, he would."

There was a moment's pause.

"I still don't understand, though," said Harry. "Who's he running from now?"

"You'd have to ask him that, Harry, and I hope you will. He agreed to let you back there and you've every right to ask him. I know he's far from ideal, but he may well be your best choice."

Remus leaned forward and added gently:

"You're not going to find another Dumbledore, Harry."

"I wish Moody were still alive," said Harry frowning.

"Well, he's not, and you're not likely to find another one like him either."

"All the same," said Harry. "Isn't there anyone else you could find?"

"Perhaps," said Remus thoughtfully. "I'll do my best. But it may be even longer this time. I won't forget though." He gave Harry and Ginny a wan smile, then spooned up the remainder of the soup and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I'm afraid I'd better be getting back. No doubt I shall hear it for spoiling my supper. My compliments to the chef. And the nogtail hexer." He nodded to Ginny.

"Thanks for everything," said Harry, getting to his feet in unison with Remus. "I - I didn't mean to be ungrateful or anything - "

Remus held up a hand to stop Harry from going any further. "I understand, Harry, and I understand how serious this is. In the meantime, though, please promise you'll see Horace if you want to ask him anything at all. You don't need me to accompany you."

Harry nodded, trying not to show any reluctance.

"Good then."

Remus Disapparated. For a moment, Harry stood looking at the spot where he'd stood just a moment before, then, with a weary sigh, he sat back down next to Ginny. They turned to look at one another but said nothing. Through their respective wizard rings, each felt only confusion and uncertainty.

***

Not far away, their daughter Siosia was experiencing much the same feelings, in her case accompanied with a heart-pounding apprehension about her very immediate future.

Nybyn, for his part, began to giggle again.

"What's so funny now?" demanded Siosia in a harsh whisper. "And get that horrible thing off me." She pushed away his cloak from her face and coughed. "Is that you I could smell or was it something you ate?"

"You should smell your own cloak, dear. But to each his own."

"Wh-wh-what's g-g-going t-to happen n-n-now?" asked Christopher. "W-w-we're tr-trapped in h-h-h-here."

Siosia tried to look in the direction of Christopher's voice but what with their now translucent appearance and the pitch blackness into which the mysterious room had suddenly been plunged, she had no way of telling whether he was absolutely terrified or just stuttering as usual.

"No, we're not," said Nybyn dismissively. "He'll be back any moment with the other members of his gang. He wasn't supposed to be here by himself. I wonder what he's up to. But that's the least of my interests now." Nybyn sounded quite excited. "Wait until you see how this character gets in and out of the room. I couldn't have done it better myself. This plot is nearing the consistency of one of Hagrid's treacle tarts."

"Who was that anyway?" demanded Siosia. "Who was he talking to? And where's he gone?"

"You'll see," replied Nybyn with a chuckle. "I expect you'll be able to look this time. The potion will have done it's - "

"Sssshhh. I h-h-h-hear s-s-something."

Sure enough, they could hear tapping on the part of the wall where the door had been. It sounded like a wand. A moment later, Siosia felt a small rush of air followed by several sets of footsteps. Her pulse quickened.

Then the lights came on. She instinctively put a hand up to shield her eyes, but it made little difference. She opened them again to see that Nybyn had been right: it was as though there was nothing there; she was now completely invisible. She waved her hand up and down just to be sure but she couldn't make out even the slightest movement. Having satisfied herself that she couldn't be spotted, Siosia turned her attention to the new arrivals into the room and what she saw made her insides turn into ice.

There, standing in front and slightly to Robert's right, was her cousin Caroline. She was flanked on the side nearest to Siosia by that Fingle girl she always went round with. But what in Merlin's name was she doing here?

Siosia quickly found herself filled with other emotions. Anger. And betrayal. She instinctively moved away from where she supposed Nybyn to be sitting, not caring for the moment whether her shuffling clothes made a sound. He had known this. He must have known this. He'd seen them the last time he'd come. Why hadn't he told her? Did he think she wouldn't come? Or did he really not know who Caroline was?

Siosia was still digesting her cousin's unexplained appearance in this strange room when she saw a sudden flash of blue light. She watched mesmerized as something slowly began to form at the far end of the room away from the door where the three Gryffindors were standing and, in their corner hiding place, Nybyn, Christopher, and herself were sitting. Siosia noticed for the first time that there was a chair there connected to the ceiling by a strange looking pole. The light was coming from the pole which was flashing a bright sky blue. Then the light stopped and the chair was suddenly occupied.

Siosia wondered for a moment whether the chair's occupant, a youngish man with a thin face, long nose, and slicked-back hair was the same wizard who'd spoken to Robert earlier. But she realized almost right away that it couldn't have been. This man was young and the wizard who'd spoken earlier had been much older. She had heard it in his voice.

But then the wizard spoke and Siosia repressed a gasp. It was the same person.

"My friends," he said in the gravelly voice of a much older man. "It is pleasing to see you again. I hope that the last two weeks have left you well and, more importantly, in possession of greater insight."

Felicia Fingle nodded but Caroline didn't move. Siosia was pleased to see she seemed to be looking at the wizard with a healthy dose of suspicion.

"Indeed we have, sir," replied Robert, with a slight nervousness Siosia wondered if Caroline had noticed. "There have been several incidents of bullying by Slytherin students. Just this afternoon, Felicia here was attacked by a classmate during her Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson who'd been aiming at one of her housemates."

"Miss Fingle?" said the wizard turning toward her. "Have you fully recovered from this unfortunate incident?"

"Yes, Professor," said Felicia, her voice quivering slightly. "My ankle still hurts a bit but I'm much better."

Professor? wondered Siosia.

"And do you agree with Mr. Mince's assessment that this attack was done on purpose?"

When Felicia seemed to hesitate, Robert turned to glower at her. She caught his gaze and quickly nodded.

"I think it must have been, sir," she said in a very small voice. "He never has these accidents when it's his own classmates."

"And that's not all, sir," Robert was quick to add. "It seems the Slytherins aren't content just to bully students in other houses. Just this morning, Caroline's cousin, who through some horrible mistake was sorted into Slytherin, was attacked by one of her own classmates, a vicious little first year." Robert's face screwed up in spite.

"The daughter of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley?"

Robert nodded.

The wizard's eyes seemed to search for a moment. Siosia could have sworn that they settled on her. She felt a thin sheen of sweat form on what she hoped was her invisible forehead. A moment later, however, she was certain she'd been imagining things as the wizard turned to Caroline.

"Have you seen your cousin since this unfortunate incident?"

"No," replied Caroline. "I haven't had the chance."

The wizard appeared to sigh as though weary, but in a way Siosia found very unconvincing. He turned back to Robert.

"Was she badly hurt?"

Siosia could have sworn she saw Robert puff out his chest.

"No, sir. I managed to restrain her attacker before the hex struck."

Liar! Siosia wanted to cry out in protest but managed to restrain herself. She settled for staring at Robert with unseen incredulity and contempt. She wondered how Nybyn must have felt, but then remembered she wasn't supposed to be feeling very sorry for her erstwhile friend at the moment.

"Very good, Mr. Mince," said the wizard with an impression of somberness. "These are indeed dark times when the daughter of one of the noblest of all wizard kind is sorted into the house of thieves and liars."

"It wasn't her choice," said Caroline defensively and Siosia felt a fleeting pride for her cousin.

"I wasn't saying so, my dear, nor did I mean so," replied the wizard guilelessly. "I meant only to express my sympathy for the poor girl and to sound a note of caution to you all. Never underestimate how badly compromised this school can become. You've done well to report these incidents to me and I commend you, Mr. Mince, in your quick actions."

Siosia's repugnance at Robert was eclipsed only by her incredulity at the bizarre events unfolding around her. Why did a wizard with the power to Apparate inside a hidden room in a school full of the tightest magical wards anywhere in the Wizarding World care to ask about the feuding of schoolchildren? Was Clarissa Caldwell really such a threat?

"However," the wizard went on, as though reading Siosia's thoughts. "I wonder whether any of you have anything else to report? Something a little more subtle? Noticed but not remarked upon perhaps?"

His question was met with silence.

"Miss Weasley, what about you?" he said, turning to Caroline.

"I haven't noticed anything. And I don't think either of these Slytherin attacks" (Caroline emphasized the last word as though to question it) "mean anything. Students hex each other all the time. So what?"

Siosia felt pleased again that her cousin seemed to be standing up to this professor whoever-he-was. But her pride was quickly mixed with confusion. If Caroline was really against this wizard, then why wasn't she going to the school authorities to report him? Or had she? But then how was he back? This obviously wasn't the first time they'd met. And he must have trusted that she wouldn't reveal him. Why?

"Caroline!" said Robert admonishingly. "We've been through this bef - "

Robert stopped as the wizard held up his hand.

"Miss Weasley is right," he said. "These attacks on their own may amount to little, but they reveal a mentality that, if bred, could mature into something far more malignant come adulthood. But I am thinking at the moment of a far more pernicious threat."

Siosia looked at Caroline. Her expression seemed non-committal but it lacked the defiance of a moment before. Siosia watched as her cousin bit her lower lip. It was almost imperceptible but Siosia had seen her do it before and she knew what it meant. For all her guarded front, Caroline was giving a lot of thought to what this wizard was saying. Far too much for Siosia's liking.

"What kind of threat?" asked Caroline.

"A threat from those who appreciate what it would mean for the Defense Association to revive and Gryffindor House to shape once again the destiny of Hogwarts."

The Defense Association? thought Siosia. What was he on about?

This time, even Robert seemed confused.

"I don't understand, Professor," he said.

The wizard smiled, a smile that Siosia immediately decided she did not like.

"You don't, do you?" said the wizard, less as a question than a statement. "No matter. You are all young and lack experience and, after all, I am here to teach you. Indeed, this will make an ideal subject for our first lesson." The wizard paused then, as though considering his words carefully. "You - the three of you - and this group are being closely watched by those with admirable magical talents and regrettably malicious intent."

Siosia's heart began to race. Her legs seemed to beg her to get up and run but she forced herself to stay put and calm down. The wizard couldn't have meant them. He couldn't see them - could he? She looked at her hand again and saw that she was still invisible. She wondered what Christopher and Nybyn were thinking.

"Watched?" repeated Felicia.

"How?" asked Robert.

"I haven't seen anyone watching us," said Caroline skeptically. "What, you mean someone in this school is watching this group? Now? We've barely even met. How could anyone know about us, much less care?"

The wizard turned and smiled at her thoughtfully, much as an executioner might stare at his next victim, contemplating the best angle from which his head might be severed.

"But someone does know, my dear, and if appearances are to be trusted, very much cares."

The wizard kept the same smile on his face, but turned away from Caroline. Siosia watched in horror as his gaze fixed squarely on her.

"And not only in this school," he finished, "but also in this room."