Horace Slughorn and the Circle of Stones

Horace trooped reluctantly into the mess hall, following Leonide and the wizard who had introduced himself as Joe Reilly.

The room looked similar to the way Garrick had left it; Horace noticed with a chill that Garrick's breakfast dishes were still in the sink, unwashed. He supposed that meant Garrick had been... killed... later in the morning. He swallowed hard, as he sat at the table beside Leonide.

"So," said Reilly. "Care to explain who you two are?" He was still eyeing Horace and Leonide with suspicion.

Leonide crossed his arms over his chest and muttered something in French that Horace was sure was very rude. He decided if Leonide wasn't going to cooperate with the authorities, he would have to do it himself.

"My name is Horace Slughorn," he said importantly. "This is my associate Leonide Allard. We are professors--I, of potions, and Monsieur Allard of Ancient Runes. We are acquaintances of the deceased."

Reilly dragged a chair over to the fireplace, turned it backwards and dropped into it. "Thought you could go get something from his room, then? Something in there you don't want found?"

"Not at all!" Horace exclaimed, frankly appalled. What sort of illicit business did this American think was going on here?

"Then what were you doing?"

"Your job," Leonide muttered.

"Leonide!" cried Horace, horrified.

Reilly scowled. "Watch yourself, son. Wasn't kidding around about arresting you."

"Bit out of your jurisdiction, aren't you?"

Reilly pulled a roll of parchment out of his pocket and tossed it to Leonide. He unrolled it, scanned it quickly and then thrust it at Horace without looking at him.

Horace did not recognize the letterhead, which proclaimed itself to be from the International Magical Law Agency, two wands crossed over a globe. Horace skimmed the parchment. It seemed that this Reilly fellow had come from America to investigate Garrick's death. As the new lead investigator, he was allowed to do whatever he wished as long as it furthered the investigation.

"Are you the ones who discovered the body?" Reilly reached over to take the parchment back from Horace.

"We were," said Horace tentatively. He didn't appreciate Reilly's callous manner. "But that's all, I assure you! He had asked us to drop by and see him, and when we didn't find him in here..." He grimaced.

Reilly nodded. He seemed to relax a bit now that he didn't suspect Horace and Leonide of any wrongdoing. "You're free to go. If you think of anything else, let me know. Just be sure to leave it to the professionals in the future."

Horace assured him that they certainly would and led Leonide out.

**

For the next two days, Leonide did not speak of the murder. At first he had been a bit glum--Horace wondered if this was because he was no longer able to play at being a detective, or simply because he still missed Garrick.

One morning, Leonide went back upstairs after breakfast. Horace followed, hoping he had something really spectacular planned for the day. It was quite dreary out, but if Leonide planned to shut them up in his bedroom, then...

Leonide sat down at his desk and began arranging books, parchment and quills.

"Er," began Horace, "what are you doing?"

"Writing." He crumpled up a sheet of parchment that was covered with his small, neat handwriting, and tossed it into the dustbin. "It's about time I got back to that." Leonide took a sugar quill from a box he'd stashed in his suitcase and began to suck on it in his left hand while, with the right, he inked his quill and put it to parchment.

Horace peered over his shoulder. "You write in English!"

Leonide turned, looking slightly irritated. He withdrew the sugar quill from his mouth. "Yes," he said. He looked at Horace expectantly. Unsure of what Leonide wanted him to do, he sat down.

It was actually rather boring to watch Leonide write. Horace kept looking out the window.

After a few minutes, Leonide said, "Why don't you go see if Maman needs any help?"

"Well, all right. If you're sure you don't need the company..."

"I'm sure."

**

"Horace?" a voice called to him when he shut the door to Leonide's bedroom. "Is that you? Can you help me?" Horace followed the sound of the voice into a room he hadn't been in, which turned out to be Collette's bedroom.

He found her struggling with the window. He hurried across the room to come to her aid, holding the window open so that she could get to the window box outside. She gathered several green things. Horace sniffed them appreciatively as she pulled back into the room and he closed the window. "Basil?"

"Yes!" she said proudly. "And you say you don't cook!"

"Well, I use basil in potions. I find it quite improves the taste of--is that Leonide?" His eyes had fallen on a collection of photographs on her bureau. The one he had noticed depicted a tiny boy of only about three or so, with bright blue eyes and a mop of brown curls. He was waving at someone just out of the frame; just a few seconds later, a tall young man with dark hair ducked into the frame and scooped Leonide up, causing him to squeal with glee.

"Is that...?" Horace turned to Collette.

She nodded, smiling sadly. "Yves. My... my husband." She looked down at the basil in her hands.

Part of Horace wanted to press further--Leonide had never told him what had happened to his father, but he thought better of it. Instead, he looked at the other photographs, which featured Leonide at varying ages--in his new Beauxbatons robes at age eleven; as a sullen teenager clutching a large gold plate; and finally, as nearly the Leonide Horace knew--in his office at Beauxbatons, apparently a first-year teacher. (He had the same Nogtail in the headlamps look that Horace was sure he had worn at some point himself.)

"He's wonderful," said Horace.

Collette laughed. "Before you go, I want a picture of the two of you together," she said, sweeping out of the room.

Horace felt his face go red as he followed her out of the room. Did she really want to look at him every day? He didn't really think so, but he supposed he'd best humor her. She was Leonide's mother after all.

**

After lunch (he brought Leonide a sandwich on a tray), Horace went to help Collette in the shop. He found working in the shop was growing on him. He hadn't thought it would be something he would enjoy--it got quite tiring and Horace wasn't the type to enjoy physical labor, but he was enjoying it. It could only help that Collette confessed she was glad to have an assistant who could correctly identify the ingredients every time.

He had to admit, despite his prior nerves, he was beginning to become more comfortable with Collette.

The bell over the door jangled.

"Hello, madame--oh! Horatio, was it?"

Horace turned. It was Garrick's colleague, Arnold. "Oh, hello!" he said cheerfully. "And it's Horace, actually. Horace Slughorn."

"Horace, right." Arnold shook his hand vigorously. "Just got back from Munich. I need a re-supply of knotgrass; used all mine up."

As Horace handed the wrapped package to the older wizard, he said softly, "I must tell you, I'm very sorry about Garrick."

"Sorry?" Arnold blinked blankly back at Horace. "He's all right, isn't he?"

Horace felt his stomach drop. "You haven't been back to the Tomb yet?"

"Nope. Came here first, thought I'd save a trip."

Horace shifted awkwardly and scratched his moustache. It was beginning to not be as scratchy, for which Leonide was surely grateful, though Horace still wasn't quite used to it. "Arnold... I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. "Garrick's dead."

Arnold stared at him. "I don't think--if you're joking."

"I'm sorry," Horace repeated. He told Arnold--as gently as possibly--about how he and Leonide had come across the terrible sight of Garrick's body. "I think... I think you'd better go to the Tomb," he added. "There's an American investigator who will probably want to talk to you. I'm really very sorry, Arnold."

Arnold nodded, the news seeming to sink in. "Gee." He picked up the package and nodded at Horace. "Well, thanks for this, Hector. See you around. Give Leonide my condolences."

Arnold had been gone for almost five minutes before Horace realized he had forgotten to pay.

**

"You'll never be an entrepreneur," said Leonide, shaking his head. It was the next day, and Horace and Leonide were going back to the Tomb to extract payment from Arnold.

"I feel ridiculous," Horace muttered. "I feel like... an extortionist."

Leonide laughed. "That's why you're going to explain it to him. It's your fault." He paused. "I guess I can only assume Reilly won't kick us out again."

"Well, it's not as though he banned us for life," said Horace.

Leonide nodded. "You're right! Well, then I suppose it wouldn't hurt to do a bit of snooping." He paused, and ducked behind a tree. "You're alone," he said simply and took out his wand.

Horace jumped. "What are you going to--?"

"Abdo," said Leonide, tapping himself on the top of the head with his wand. He disappeared.

"How...?"

"Disillusionment Charm," said Leonide's voice as it moved up the path. "You're alone," he repeated. If he squinted, Horace could just make out a difference between the rest of the trees and the ones Leonide was standing in front of, but he was invisible if you didn't know he was there.

"Very clever," said Horace, following him. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything to make up for our dismal performance last time. We'd better stop talking. I'll find you when I'm done."

Horace found Arnold in the mess. He had a cauldron going in the fire and was shuffling through some papers on the table.

They sorted through the matter of payment quite easily and then they fell to chatting--Arnold was a fellow potioneer, after all, and Horace felt a kind of kinship with the American.

It turned out that he, too, had been trying to crack the secret of the Liber Atavus, but had been unsuccessful thus far. He thought one of the potions might be a primitive form of Polyjuice Potion, which was what he was currently working on. That was what he'd had to go to Munich to get the ingredients for.

"Oh!" said Arnold suddenly, interrupting their discussion of the merits of changing Polyjuice in order to make in more palatable, "I almost forgot. I got an owl this morning from Garrick's, well, not his estate really... just his lawyer. They opened his will." Arnold pulled out a sheet of parchment. "Take this with you when you go back; he left quite a bit to Leonide. I mean, he didn't have much, but, what he did have..." He shrugged. "He wants his notes published, wants Leonide to do that."

"I'm sure he'll be honored," said Horace, accepting the parchment. He looked at it briefly. It was mostly a formal request for Leonide to edit and publish Garrick's notes, but there was also an overseas transaction slip from Gringotts to which Horace's eyes were drawn.

"Right," said Arnold briskly, before Horace could calculate Leonide's new windfall. "That means he gets the run of the place, gets to see the, er, you know." He waved vaguely at where the Liber Atavus was being housed. "Ask him to come up in the next few days, maybe we can talk about collaborating, since it's, you know, my find too."

"Of course," said Horace. "I'm sure he would be absolutely delighted to include you."

"That's good," said Arnold, his mood brightening considerably. "When I was in Munich, I spent some time at the national library and I read a very interesting study of the effect of the phases of the moon on Polyjuice. It seems that if you--"

Horace heard a noise to his left and jumped.

"Anything wrong?" Arnold asked.

"N-nothing," Horace stammered, as an invisible hand came to rest gently on his. It was definitely Leonide's, he could tell. "Well, I'd best be going." He stood up. "Nice chatting with you."

The two men shook hands and Horace walked without stopping until he was sure Arnold could no longer see him.

Then he heard "Finite" and Leonide reappeared, scowling. "I didn't find anything," he said. "I need you; you're the potions expert. I want you to look at them again."

"Oh, Arnold's doing that!" said Horace, indicating behind them. "We should go talk to him."

Leonide shook his head. "I don't trust Arnold. He didn't go to Germany, for one thing."

Horace blinked. "How on Earth do you figure that? He's been going on about Munich for the last half-hour!"

"Yes, and he said he was going to Berlin before!" Leonide turned and walked briskly down the hill.

Horace puzzled over this for a moment, and then sprinted after Leonide. "Couldn't he have been mistaken?" he panted.

"Who forgets where they're going? I think it's very suspicious."

Horace nodded. "I suppose." Leonide wasn't going to start this again, was he?

"We'll come together tomorrow. You can look at the Liber, we'll Disillusion you if we have to." Apparently, he was. Horace sighed inwardly. Well, it had been a nice break while it had lasted.

**

The following morning, Leonide hurried them out of the house immediately after breakfast. He was determined to get "something" accomplished that day. Unfortunately, he couldn't really elaborate on what "something" was.

"Evidence," he said when Horace asked. "We're looking for evidence of wrongdoing. Preferably evidence that Arnold did not do as he said he did. Which is why you will talk to Arnold, while I am studying the Liber."

Arnold, on the other hand, had other plans. "I thought we'd have a look at it together," he said to Leonide. "Really, I mean, I helped discover it."

"How did you discover it?" Leonide asked. "Garrick never got a chance to tell me." They were all sitting around the table in the mess, having a cup of tea. Arnold was a better tea-maker than Garrick had been, Horace noted. Perhaps it had to do with his potions talent.

Arnold looked a bit flummoxed. "It would have been around two weeks ago now. We found it in a part of the Tomb we'd already looked at--you remember D-4, I think that was where you helped us go through the topsoil that summer."

Leonide nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I remember that sunburn."

"Well, you know we'd used Probe Charms to see if there was anything down there but they didn't turn up anything. Imagine our surprise when we realized the Liber was there!"

"It must have been quite something," acknowledged Horace.

"It took us a while to get it out of the ground," Arnold went on. "Whoever left it didn't seem to want it found, there were tons of protections on it. Luckily, I've had some curse-breaker training."

Leonide shivered with anticipation. "Do you think it was Merlin who left those enchantments?"

"Well, we can't say for sure." He shrugged. "He could very well have been. It depends on whether you really believe all they say about him."

Leonide frowned. "But the Liber Atavus is--"

"If it wasn't Merlin, who was it?" Horace asked.

"I'm sure we'll never really know for sure." Arnold got up and put his now-empty mug in the sink. "It might help if we can actually figure out if he's buried here."

"You don't even know that?" Horace was shocked. He'd assumed they knew Merlin was buried there. It was called Merlin's Tomb after all.

Arnold shook his head.

"I believe he's here," said Leonide simply. "I know Garrick did."

None of the three men said anything for a long moment. Finally, Leonide said, "I think I'll go look at the Liber. I want to see if I can make sense of those runes." He picked up the notepad and Self-Inking Quill he'd brought with him. "Why don't you two go through the potions?"

Arnold nodded. "We'll join you in a bit," he said, waving Leonide off. "I want to keep an eye on my brewing."

Horace turned to look at the cauldron on the fire. "I see it's coming along well," he observed. The Polyjuice Potion was the color and consistency of mud. "It's nearly finished! I thought you'd only started brewing it a few days ago."

Arnold shook his head. "I've had this cauldron going for a while now. I've been switching them off; I'm trying to do some experiments with the various batches. This one's my control." He got up and began stirring the potion. It bubbled tiredly.

Arnold frowned. "Listen, Horace, could you do me a bit of a favor?"

"Sure," said Horace amiably. He wasn't sure why Leonide suspected Arnold; he thought he seemed like quite a nice bloke.

"D'you think you could let me have a few, uh, hairs? Just so I can test it out."

Horace paused. He supposed if it was just for experimentation's sake...

"All right," he said. The words had barely left his mouth when Arnold flicked his wand and Horace felt a pinch at the side of his head. He caught the hairs deftly; Horace wondered if maybe he hadn't taken too much off. How many experiments did he intend to run?

"Thanks," said Arnold pleasantly. "I've never been a blond before."

**

Leonide thought he could count on one hand the number of times in his life that he'd been more frustrated than he was now. It was just as Garrick had said--the runes on the Liber Atavus made sense when he looked at them individually, but when he studied the writings as a whole, the meanings flew right out of his head. He frowned.

There, that rune seemed to indicate heat. Leonide placed at finger underneath the rune and flicked his eyes to the one in front of it. Now, that would mean stirring. But why was he pointing to this other rune? Oh, that one meant heat. But why was he looking at it?

Leonide shook his head. He was beginning to get quite a headache. Could the thing be enchanted to prevent his being able to read it?

He picked up his quill and began to copy the runes down, but as he did so, he found himself growing disoriented. Feeling slightly sick to his stomach, he put his quill down and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. What on Earth was going on? It hadn't been this bad the other day, when Garrick had first shown them the Liber, had it?

He laid his hand on the cool stone and closed his eyes. Merlin had touched this stone. He could sense the presence of strong magic, old magic. It was the same feeling the air in the workroom had always had, ever since he had first been allowed in here when he was twelve, but the Liber seemed to magnify it. Despite the strength of the power he could feel, it also seemed distant, as if there were something blocking it. He frowned in concentration. He had no training in this field of magic; Charms at Beauxbatons had not prepared him to undo anything this complicated. But there was definitely a very complicated Charm on this object.

"Specialis Revelio," he murmured with great concentration, pressing his wand against the stone. Nothing happened. "Finite Incantatem." Again, nothing.

Leonide sighed and put his wand back in his pocket. He hoped Horace was having more luck than he was. This was going to be impossible to figure out if he couldn't even read the thing!

As if on cue, the door of the workroom opened, and Horace and Arnold entered. Horace had a sheepish expression on his face that Leonide instantly recognized as signifying that he had just done something foolishly Horaceish.

"What do you make of that?" Arnold asked, pointing at the Liber Atavus.

"Oh, it's fascinating," said Leonide breezily, still trying to figure out what Horace's expression meant. "There's quite a lot here, though. It might take me several days to work through it all."

"By all means," said Arnold. "You're both free to come and go as you please. Garrick would have wanted it that way." Leonide did not like the way Arnold smiled. He couldn't imagine how he had ever liked the man, though in his rational mind, he knew Arnold had not been this... slimy years ago.

Leonide made to turn back to the Liber when Arnold spoke up again.

"Say, Leonide, you wouldn't mind doing me a favor, would you?"

Leonide raised an eyebrow. Horace ran a hand through his hair, and then furiously tried to make it lie flat again.

"Would you mind lending me a couple of hairs?"

Leonide felt his mouth drop open. "What?" Of all the things he had expected Arnold to ask of him... hair?

"I'm doing some experiments with Polyjuice, you see, and..."

Leonide opened his mouth to refuse--he was sure now that Horace had given him hairs--when a terrible screaming cut through the air. It seemed that someone was yelling, but Leonide could not make out the words.

All three men bolted for the door and headed for the village. Out of the corner of his eye, Leonide spotted Joe Reilly pelting down the hill after them.

When they had reached the village square, Leonide noticed that a large crowd had begun to form. Leonide estimated the entire village had turned out to see what all the shouting was about. It seemed to have stopped, but someone was setting off what looked like fireworks. Reilly overtook Leonide and pulled out his badge.

"Move it!" he barked at the confused townspeople. "Magical Law Enforcement, let me through." No one seemed able to understand him, so he went ignored. Reilly looked around frantically and his gaze fell on Leonide. He grabbed him by the arm. "Tell them to get out of the way," he ordered.

Leonide bit back his tongue. His first instinct was to tell Reilly to learn the damned language, but his curiosity as to what all the commotion was won out.

He relayed translated Reilly's message and followed him as the crowd parted to let him through.

"What's... going... on?" Horace had finally caught up to Leonide and was clutching a stitch in his side.

"Shh!" Leonide hissed, shoving through the crowd after Reilly.

In the center of the town square, standing on the shoulders of the Merlin statue, was a teenage boy, his pale, pointed face lit by the sparks he shot from his wand.

"I did it!" he cried. "If there are any Aurors around, I did it!"

"What is the meaning of this?" bellowed Reilly, leveling his wand at the boy. "Get down here before I bring you down!"

Seemingly not intimidated by Reilly's brusque manner, the boy lazily dropped to the ground and grinned. "Are you an Auror?"

"I am an Investigator from the International Magical Law Agency," he said, "and I demand to be told what you are doing here."

Next to him, Horace gasped. "Leonide," he whispered. "I know him. He's--"

"I'm Polonius Malfoy," said the boy, grinning. "And I killed that stupid Mudblood Wagner."