The Road To Nowhere

Chapter 10

The Museum

"Oh, my soul.

Sometimes we don´t know what to do

We work so hard being tough on our own

But now it´s me and you

Let´s give it up, sad bones

`Cause we are following hard times

But you don´t have to stand up all alone

Just put your hand in mine..."

Caedmon´s Call: `Climb On´

Hermione studiously explored the contents of the vast bookshelves and walls in the tiny conference room she and Ron had been made to wait in for a chance to speak with the leading Founder´s Historian at the Museum.

Dr. Grayson Beckett was an authority on the four founders of Hogwarts and a friend of Arthur Weasely´s Hermione was quick to find out. In a chance conversation at the table, one morning, weeks ago, Hermione had brought up the fact that she´d been researching the founding of the school for a paper. Eager as he always was to help, Mr. Weasely had suggested that she look up his old school acquaintance at the Museum.

She´d done this back in the beginning of July and found Dr. Beckett a warm and kind older man with an extensive knowledge of all things founder-related. Apparently taken by the eager student Hermione was, with a natural interest in his area of study, the two had become fast friends on their first meeting and on parting he´d urged her to come and visit often. Consequently, she´d promised him a copy of her seventh year thesis to critique.

Hermione could feel Ron´s eyes boring into her as she took and examining turn around the room. She would deal with whatever it was that was bothering him later. At the moment, she had bigger things occupying her mind.

She stopped at a rustic map on the wall. Hands clasped behind her back--a habit she´d acquired on her many museum visits since childhood, she stared intently at its lines. She´d always had to fight the urge to grab up whatever it was she was inspecting for a closer look.

This map was curious. It was a castle. That was easy enough to see. But the curious bit was that it was a crannog, an island keep in the middle of a loch, only the keep was too big for the actual mound of earth it sat on in the middle of the loch. Staring at it from different angles, Hermione noticed that some lines disappeared and reappeared, depending on her vantage point. A sort of narrow land bridge disappeared and reappeared as well. Magically enlarged, she guessed. The castle must be expanded by magic to fit on such a small surface. Located somewhere in Scotland, she thought, that´s where these types of castles usually stood.

For a long while she silently studied the curves and tunnels, staircases and hidden passages, all the time thinking how fun it would be to explore that place in person.

She heard the creak of hinges, announcing a newcomer. She turned to note the weary but delighted face of Dr. Beckett.

"Hello, Miss Granger. How can I be of service?"

Hermione rushed away from the wall to shake the historian´s hand politely then collected her notes, still mentally adjusting what she wanted to reveal--not everything of course.

She took a seat next to a bored Ron as Dr. Beckett sat across from him.

Noticing the resemblance to his schoolmate Arthur Weasely, Dr. Beckett introduced himself to Ron and politely enquired after his father. Ron answered all questions with a degree of civility, but also impatience.

Hermione shook her head. He really had no idea how important all of this was. That was her fault, really. But she was still debating on the best way to approach the conversation, for both him and Harry. She would have to fill them in and soon. The evidence for Harry as Gryffindor´s chosen one was mounting and Ginny was already marked as Hufflepuff´s. If she had any guess about what lie ahead for these two, not to mention the mysterious Ravenclaw chosen, it would not be pleasant or easy and everything would depend on them.

Hermione brought out a sheet of notes, which she ran a deft finger down. She was looking for a note that she´d left in the margin on one of these pages after she´d found something alarming.

"How is the paper coming?" Dr. Beckett asked with a smile, "Don´t tell me you´ve finished already?"

Hermione shook her head and smiled, "Hardly. I´m still at the research stage. That´s what I´ve come to ask you about." She bit her lip. How was she to proceed without sounding like a raging lunatic? She plunged on anyway, "What do you know about the Chosen three of the Founders?"

***

"Stop pouting and eat!" Severus commanded as Arabella glared at him from across the table. They sat at a small café in the midst of the charming medieval town of Ravenna.

"I still think we were very close--too close to quit," she said, leaning back and folding her arms like an angry three-year-old.

Severus shook his head. "We´re not quitting. We are human and humans have to eat. Your way was a dead end. So, after we´ve finished here we´ll get some provisions, some proper torches (because wand light gets irritating after a while) some sleep (because you look like hell) and then we´ll have another go, and do you know why we will succeed this time, whereas our last trip into the underground failed?"

Arabella clenched her jaws. He could see the muscles working. He was annoying her for a change and he rather enjoyed it. She answered after a moment, "Because I am a gung ho Gryffindor who charges ahead unthinkingly into the abyss, unprepared and ill-equipped and no match for your superior Slytherin intellect," she held a sarcastic monotone, "which, might I point out, this Gryffindor was the one who found the passage in the first place. It just so happens that there´s a trick to getting into it."

Severus nodded patiently and waited for her rambling to stop. "And you were getting frustrated and banging your fists against the wall, which never helps a situation. We´ll find out how to open that wall, I promise. But we won´t figure it out tonight. Tonight we´ll sleep and tomorrow we´ll go back down there and figure out a way in."

She continued to scowl and Severus returned to his food. "And the Gryffindor comment was not what I was going for. I think you´re uncommonly clever for a former Gryffindor."

***

As usual, Friday afternoon found Ginny counting down the minutes until her shift was over. She had grand plans for tonight: crash hard on the sofa and stay there until she had to get up tomorrow.

She´d spent another night awake, trying to remember her dreams that had startled her awake. She felt that each time she´d had these dreams; they were slipping further and further through the grasp of her memory. She knew that it was extremely important to remember all that she could, but it was becoming impossible. She was frustrated to no end. She needed a distraction to take her mind off of it all.

The distraction came just after she´d wished for it and she couldn´t fight the uncommon smile that lit her face and heated her cheeks. Dracowalked into the coffee shop and smiled back, a cool, elegant smile. Damn him! He was always so graceful. She looked clunky and unrefined by comparison.

She felt a nudge from behind as Sohpie winked at her and slung a dishtowel over her shoulder.

"Leave early," Sophie prodded, "I `ave everything under control `ere. Besides, you need a little fun. You study too much." She narrowed her silver-blue eyes pointedly in Draco´s direction and Ginny smiled.

"Thanks, Sophie," Ginny said, "I owe you one!"

"Zat´s no problem, Virginie. Just convince your cute brother, Bill, to date me." She winked and shrugged her shoulders elegantly. That wasn´t a bad idea, Ginny thought. She was a very nice girl, and pretty. Ginny hated the stupid bimbo Bill had brought home last week. Sophie was a step in the right direction, as far as Ginny was concerned.

Draco was conversing with Sophie as she made his latte and flirted shamelessly and Ginny hurried to the back to remove her apron and grab her bag as fast as she could lest Sophie take her beguiling small talk too far.

"Thanks again, Sophie!" Ginny called over her shoulder, heading for the door. Draco smiled after her and waved, following Ginny out the door and onto the street.

"Anytime, Ginnie!" Sophie shouted after her with an amused smile on her face.

Out on the street Ginny was debating whether she should take offense to the attention Draco paid to Sophie, but reminded herself rationally that she and Draco were not in a relationship, to speak of. It would be silly to think that. They´d only spent about a week together. Granted, it had been the best week of Ginny´s life, it meant nothing more than an unlikely friendship. She could reconcile herself to that easily. He was sarcastic and unforgiving sometimes, and very closed off on certain topics of conversation, but it was nothing she couldn´t handle. It was just the sort of challenge she enjoyed.

"You don´t look well," Draco said after a minute of silence between the two, then added quickly, "I only mention it out of concern. I´m not trying to be impertinent."

After hearing this first part she looked sideways at him and began to defend herself, but nodded at his amendment, "I know. I haven´t slept much lately. It´s probably test anxiety, finals are coming up in three weeks."

Draco could tell when most people were lying, and Ginny was lying now. Something was very wrong, but he would pry no further. He spurned interference himself and respected Ginny´s wish to keep her secret. He was grateful for the change of conversation that Ginny issued as means of distraction.

"I´ve been meaning to ask you, but I didn´t want to seem nosy, but--I mean, I know you hate questions and you don´t like to talk about your family, but..."

"But what? What do you want to know? As long as it has nothing to do with my mother, I´ll answer any question you want answered." He smiled reassuringly and Ginny smiled back briefly before averting her eyes to the ground. They were headed toward Ginny´s favorite bit of grass in the park, next to the pond.

"Your sister, Lucy. How old is she? I haven´t seen her at Hogwarts. I know I haven´t been there in over a year. Did she just start?" Ginny had been curious about this mysterious sister she´d never heard of until last week when Draco had first mentioned her. She remembered back to the summer before her third year, the summer of the Quidditch World Cup. She´d seen his family there, or at least all the family she thought he´d had. She remembered betraying a small shudder as his father´s cold eyes fell on her with brief disdain and how unhappy his mother had looked, like she would rather be someplace else, but there was no sister, just Draco.

"She goes to school here, in France. She just turned fourteen in April."

"You mean Beauxbatons? But I went there last year. I didn´t see her," Ginny thought out loud.

"Yes, but you´re nearly two years older than her. The lower years are separated in a more strict fashion there than they are at Hogwarts, am I right?"

"Yes, I suppose that´s the reason. But I don´t think I´ve ever seen her, even in passing. I just thought that if she had your conspicuous hair color I would have recognized her immediately."

"I have a conspicuous hair color?" Draco asked incredulously, staring pointedly at Ginny´s flaming hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail.

She laughed and conceded, "You´re right. I have no room to talk."

She picked her spot and leaned back on her shady oak, closing her eyes and letting the summer breeze blow over her face. "I´d like to meet her sometime, but I don´t suppose that would be possible if she doesn´t go to our school," her voice betrayed a slight disappointment.

"She´s here, you know? Not here in Paris, but in France, at my grandmother´s house in Caen. I think she´s anxious to meet you as well. I´ve told her about your medical internship and that. She´s very interested in medical magic."

Ginny was flattered by the fact that Draco had even mentioned her to his sister. She looked down at her knees to hide a very amused grin.

He continued, "I´m leaving tonight to join them there for the weekend. You could come for the weekend as well. I´m sure my grandmother and Lucy would be more than pleased to have you." He stood and shoved his hands in his pocket. She was beginning to interpret this as a sign of nervousness. She smiled up at him, unsure of how to reply. "I know you´re not working this weekend. I´ve already asked Sophie." He grinned slyly.

Over the past six days, they´d spent nearly every one of them in each other´s company. She had thought about her visions and dreams less and noticed that he was not nearly as sarcastic as when she´d first met him in Paris. She enjoyed his company and he was fast becoming a friend she valued. But she still could not fight that tiny voice in the back of her mind that reminded her constantly that she was nowhere good enough for him. A lowly Ministry worker´s daughter had no right to associate with a higher class, Malfoy´sclass. She shrugged the voice away. Her conscience was sounding annoyingly like Ron.

Forget about all of that. She deserved a holiday and she was going to take up his invitation and enjoy this weekend.

"How much time do I have to pack?" she smiled, reaching for his hand to pull her up off of the grass.

"Plenty of time. I´m leaving at seven."

She checked her watch. It was nearly four-thirty now.

"We´ll go in my car. The French countryside at night looks better from inside a convertible."

She smiled and shook her head. Now he was showing off. Draining the last of Draco´s latte, Ginny discarded the cup and walked home quickly, eager to leave enough time to wash the coffee smell out of her hair.

***

Dr. Beckett blinked at the surprising question. "That´s just a myth. It´s been debated for centuries by the most knowledgeable scholars. But no conclusive evidence suggests there ever was such an alliance."

"Could you tell me what sort of evidence there is, conclusive or not?" Hermione persisted.

"Well, we know that Salazar Slytherin was executed by the order of the heirs of the other three founders, after he´d murdered them and several others in connection with them. The only account we have of these events comes several hundred years later by an heir of Helga Hufflepuff. We doubt its accuracy because of the length of time that has passed between the actual event and the earliest record."

Hermione could feel herself becoming impatient. Did all scholars skirt the issue like that? She would try another avenue, "How about people close to the Founders who were of no relation to them at all?"

"No relation? You mean of no blood relation? Well, Helga had a stepdaughter two years older than her son by the same man, Azria. She was of no blood relation."

"But what about the two others, Ravenclawand Gryffindor?" Hermione fought the impatience that was growing in her, causing her to fidget. She already knew that the Alliance existed, even if Dr. Beckett was skeptical. And she knew who Hufflepuff´s chosen one was.

"Rowena Ravenclaw had an adopted child of unknown parentage five years the junior of her heir, Galahad. And Gryffindor..." Dr. Beckett trailed off thinking hard and removing his glasses to rub at his eyes.

This was the one Hermione was most anxious to learn about. She had exhausted all means of conventional research in looking for Faramir, Godric´s squire.

"There was one account, written by the hand of Godric´s son and heir, Isaiah about an insolent squire that was at one time in favor with his father before his death. It goes into great detail about a duel, a tournament of sorts over a sword that Godric had given to Faramir that was rightfully the property of Isaiah." He paused and collected his thoughts.

Hermione was on the edge of her seat. If Faramir was killed in that duel, than the chosen line would have been broken and all is already lost. "And what happened in the tournament? Who won?"

"No one. The tournament was dissolved. Isaiah was made to settle instead for an exile. Faramir left and took the coveted sword with him. In reply to this action, it is generally believed that Isaiah murdered Faramir´s family in his absence, but that is just hearsay, not supportable fact."

"And Faramir´s family, what were they. They must have been lower class to have a son loaned out as a squire and all," Hermione asked feebly, not being able to speak above a constricted whisper. That was a horrible story, and for some reason, she knew it was true. She´d seen the way Isaiah glared with murderous intent at Faramir as Godricpresented his sword to him.

"Oh, nothing more than peasants, they were actually the town´s best family of potters."

Hermione betrayed a small gasp at this last bit. It was the concrete piece of evidence she needed to be absolutely positive.

She thanked Dr. Beckett politely and drug Ron out of the Museum behind her, promising the obliging historian that he would be receiving a copy of her thesis in the near future.

***

Severus knew something was wrong when they were there underground. It was something in the malevolent way that Child of Satan smiled at them, suggesting that they would meet a horrible fate if they´d followed where he indicated. Add to that the growing fear that someone was watching them, and it smelled like an ambush.

He was no coward. He´d seen far worse places and things than a couple of centuries old bones in an underground lair. But he was also cautious. He needed to be extra cautious, he´d reminded himself, for Arabella´s lack of anything resembling caution. She was one to blindly charge ahead, risking everything for a clue to the ever-growing enigma of Voldemort´snext big plan.

He had never been so frivolous, and he wasn´t going to start now. Maybe a week or more of research, finding out everything they can on that curious antechamber and then they could proceed with the crawling through bones and dust and rats--the stuff Arabella enjoyed.

She had closed the door to her room with a glare and a scowl. She was being childish and he would have to put up with it. Having very few true friends made him wary of losing the ones he had. He was protective of this one in particular because she was reckless. She´d always wanted to be Indiana Jones.

He opened the blinds a crack to catch a glimpse of the moon and instead, found his sights trained on two dark figures half hidden in the shadow of an alleyway. He saw the eyes of one of them and they were oddly familiar. Familiar to him was usually the dangerous sort of familiar-old affiliations sort of familiar.