Mentors

Mentors

Chapter 2: Mentors

* * * * * * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood in the entrance hall waiting for Neville to arrive. They caught sight of him as he came trotting down the marble staircase. From the look on his face he had no idea why he had been summoned to the Great Hall by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Harry and his two companions knew. But they weren’t telling even when, seeing the smiles on their faces, Neville asked, “What are you three so happy about?”

“You’d better get in there, Neville,” advised Hermione. He stepped inside completely bewildered. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed him in, but sat down on benches far away from the Head Table. Harry looked up to see that the ceiling mirrored the cloudy March sky outside; a storm appeared to be slowly building.

“Please join us, Mr. Longbottom,” Professor Dumbledore requested. All of Hogwarts’ professors were standing in front of the top table. Professor Snape, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, looked bored, but Professors Sprout and McGonagall appeared particularly pleased. On the end of the row of teachers was Min, the great wizard Harry had met last year in the Great Swamp.

“Um, you wanted to see me sir?” said Neville meekly.

“Yes, Neville, I have some excellent news to share with you,” said Dumbledore. “For the first time in more than sixty years, a Hogwarts student has been asked to become … an apprentice! Master Min wishes to take a student under his wing and teach him.”

“Really? That’s great! Who is it, Harry?” asked Neville, looking back at his fellow Gryffindor.

“Why no, Neville,” replied Dumbledore with a slightly bemused look on his face, “it’s you.”

Neville’s jaw dropped. “Me! Are you sure?” Harry chuckled as he watched a wide smile grow across Professor Dumbledore’s face. “But … but why me?” Neville stammered.

“Perhaps because he sees potential in you that even you yourself do not yet recognize. But if you accept his offer, you will have to work extra hard the remaining part of this school year. He wishes to leave as soon as possible. However, you must study for and take your N.E.W.T.s first. You do not have to make your decision known right now, but …”

“No, I’ll take it!” Neville blurted out. “I mean, definitely, yes!” he said, obviously overwhelmed at the prospect of becoming a wizard’s apprentice.

“Well, then, it is done,” said the Headmaster.

“Congratulations, Neville!” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes alight, beaming with pride, as she walked down to shake his hand. Hagrid and Professor Sprout followed her down.

“Headmaster, I must again object —” began Professor Snape.

“Oh, save it, Severus. The decision has been made,” chided Dumbledore, moving to congratulate Neville.

Min also walked to him and, shaking his hand firmly, told him, “I expect excellent grades from my new apprentice. I’ve trained two wizards and three witches in my time, all of whom turned out superbly. I will expect nothing less from you, Mr. Longbottom.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” said Neville, disconcertedly.

Neville walked in a daze to the three Gryffindors sitting near the back of the Great Hall. Harry, Ron, and Hermione congratulated him with wide smiles, vigorous handshakes, and enthusiastic pats on the back. Harry could tell he still didn’t believe it.

“I have to … I have to tell my Gran. What am I going to say?” asked Neville, who seemed to be talking more to himself than any of the three of them. “She’s not going to believe me.”

“I think she’ll believe you just fine, Neville,” Hermione reassured him. “You’ve come a long way over the past three years.” Harry nodded knowingly. Neville truly had progressed remarkably well since their first D.A. meeting more than two years ago. And once he had bought his new wand and began fully focusing his power, no one wanted to partner with him to practice dueling anymore. Harry subconsciously massaged his perfectly healthy rib cage at the thought.

“Yeah … yeah … I think I’ll go send her an owl tonight,” Neville muttered.

As they turned to follow Neville out of the Hall, Professor McGonagall called the three of them over. Harry told Neville they’d see him up in the common room and they walked over to her.

McGonagall spoke in a low voice, “I suppose the three of you already know this, but Alastor Moody again asked me to relay to you that you’re not to leave the school grounds at all nor the castle itself after dark.” Before Ron could get the words out of his mouth, McGonagall cut him off. “I’m sorry. I know how you could all use a break. Worrying about your upcoming exams is indeed stressful, but it is quite impossible for you to go roaming about right now. There have been more than a dozen dementor attacks across the country in just the past month, and alleged sightings of Death Eaters pour in every day. The Ministry is spread very thin; its members are guarding everything they can. Your families are quite safe now, but neither the Ministry nor the Order can spare any more people at this moment and we are quite busy here at the castle, so any more visits to Hogsmeade are simply out of the question.”

Harry chafed at her obviously prepared speech. “But Professor, it’s our seventh year,” he complained.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but there’s really nothing I can do. And the two of you,” pointing to Ron and Harry, “need to be practicing Quidditch anyway. The Cup looks very much at home sitting on my mantelpiece and I would prefer it to stay right where it is!”

“Have you heard from Firenze, Professor?” asked Hermione.

“No, he’s still gone trying to recruit more centaurs to our cause. Heaven knows the ones in the Forbidden Forest won’t be any help. Now go on; it should be quite a party in Gryffindor Tower this evening, so go and enjoy yourselves.”

Professor McGonagall was right. The party celebrating Neville’s apprenticeship was a huge blast. Too huge, in fact. It lasted well past one in the morning and only ended then because Professor McGonagall’s third warning threatened them with detention.

The entire school was abuzz with talk of Neville’s apprenticeship. For a few days teachers had trouble getting their students to concentrate, especially those in the classes Neville was taking. Even during Quidditch practice, much of the Gryffindor team seemed to be almost daydreaming as they flew through the air. Ginny had been so distracted that she took a Bludger to the head. Ron, as team captain, had to work hard to refocus his team for their final match against Slytherin.

* * *

As the start of May rolled around, all of the seventh years were feeling completely overwhelmed. Even with taking fewer courses than they did in their first year, the amount of work preparing for their N.E.W.T.s was staggering. And none more so than for Neville, who was allowed to take his exams a week early so he and Min could leave as soon as possible.

Ron was taking every occasion he could to bellyache to Hermione that she had actually talked him into taking Herbology as his sixth N.E.W.T. level course. Strangely, her drawing him up a sensible study planner didn’t seem to mollify his complaints. And Harry had almost no time for Ginny who, in turn, seemed determined to teach him exactly what the term ‘fiery red-head’ meant as she regularly stormed off after being told he couldn’t meet with her because he had to study. Harry wished a bit more of Hermione would rub off on her.

On the second Tuesday of the month, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were rushing down the hallway trying to get to their Transfiguration lesson before they were late. Ron was complaining loudly to Hermione. “What was so important about that book that we had to stop off at the library first? Why couldn’t you have gotten it before we went to lunch?”

“We had plenty of time to get to class before you waylaid Andrew Kirke to whine about his play in the Hufflepuff match,” she fumed, nearly dropping her copy of An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms as they raced down the corridor.

“I wasn’t whining, Hermione. Besides, he was awful; he hit more Bludgers at our side than he did the Hufflepuff team. Harry would have gotten to the Snitch a good ten minutes earlier if Kirke hadn’t nearly taken his head off.”

Harry could only sigh loudly; he had given up trying to step between the two of them.

As they reached the middle of the corridor, all three slowed down significantly and did their best to quiet down. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, was angrily mopping up what looked (and smelled) like the remnants of a number of dungbombs that had exploded in the passage, coating not only the floor, but also the lower part of the walls. They desperately didn’t want to draw his attention given the mood he’d been in lately. But Harry was too late in averting his eyes; Filch stopped what he was doing and, leaning on the mop handle, leered at him. Harry just stared straight ahead as they passed and thankfully Filch did nothing more than watch them carefully and breathe heavily as they passed.

They turned the corner and, as they reached the main thoroughfare, were slowed down even more by the moving crowd of students. A familiar female voice was calling to Harry from up ahead. “Harry! Harry!” It was Ginny walking toward them. “’Morning,” she said brightly to Ron and Hermione.

“I’m sorry, Ginny, but we really have to go,” Hermione insisted, moving steadily with the crowd as they passed Ginny in the hall, “We’re almost late for class. We’ll see you —”

“We’re still on for this evening, right, Harry?” Ginny called from behind. Harry stopped cold; he’d completely forgotten that he had promised to take Ginny down to the lake. At the time it sounded like a great way to relax for a bit, but …

“I can’t, Ginny. We have to review our Transfiguration notes; Professor McGonagall has —”

Ginny looked extremely hurt. “Fine!” she exclaimed as she turned around and stormed away down the main corridor.

Harry sighed regretfully and Hermione grabbed his arm, “Come on!” But he froze once more as he looked back down the length of the corridor they had just walked along. Startlingly, the walls, including the tall glass windows, were undulating. Even though they were made of hard stone, they moved as if they were a liquid and waves were rolling along them. Harry blinked hard, trying to clear his eyes of the bizarre hallucination. But the ripples continued to roll down the walls, almost rhythmically.

“What are you waiting for?” Ron insisted, right into Harry’s ear.

Harry glanced at him, and pointed down the now-empty corridor at the pulsating walls. “Look,” he said firmly.

“What?” Ron asked, staring down the hall in confusion.

“The walls; they’re moving. Can’t you see them?”

“Er, no. Are you feeling all right, Harry?”

“You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast,” Hermione chided. “Oooh! We’re late. Now will you two move?”

But instead of following Hermione, Harry was drawn powerfully back along their previous path; he was determined to solve this mystery. He strode all the way up to the wall at the corner of the two corridors but, as he approached, it stopped moving. The stones stood motionless and the panes of glass were unbroken, apparently none the worse for wear. Harry carefully put his hand on the surface of the wall to make sure it was solid. The stone wall, cool to the touch, was as rigid as ever. He looked back sheepishly to see Ron’s frowning face and Hermione’s frantic expression.

But then out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of more movement down the previous corridor they had just traveled. He saw it once again: halfway down the hall the walls were pulsating irregularly as waves rolled along them. But these pulses weren’t so much gentle waves as they were harsh, powerful beats sending out spasmodic ripples along the walls. Harry started breathing heavily, truly beginning to wonder about his own state of mind when he looked down and saw a man lying on the floor curled up into a ball.

“MR. FILCH!” Harry shouted as he dropped his school bag and ran to him. Filch was lying in a fetal position; his left hand was extended away from his body, frozen in mid-air like a painful claw while his right was clutched over his left side. “Mr. Filch!” he said again, but Harry didn’t know what to do as he crouched beside the stricken man. He heard footsteps behind him round the corner, and shouted back to Ron and Hermione, “Get help! He’s having a heart attack!”

Harry heard two pairs of feet tear away in different directions. Harry was watching Mr. Filch as he sputtered out struggled breaths in obvious agony. “Please hang on, Mr. Filch, help’s coming,” Harry said weakly.

Filch soon had almost stopped breathing and his eyes were becoming glassy. Harry looked desperately up and down the corridor, begging for some help to come. Panic was beginning to set in as he had no earthly idea what to do; none of the spells he knew would help much.

Suddenly a flash of fire burst into the hallway, scaring Harry half out of his wits. He fell onto his backside and gazed up at Professor Dumbledore’s towering figure. Fawkes hovered above the newly arrived wizard’s shoulder. “Harry, what’s —” Dumbledore started. “Argus!”

Before Harry could say a word, Professor Dumbledore had drawn his wand and, crouching over Mr. Filch’s struggling body, he quietly murmured an incantation. Filch was evidently released from his tortuous pain and his grotesquely distorted hand relaxed, closing gently on itself. “Breathe, Argus. Try to breathe. I know that your chest is still very sore, but you must try to relax and breathe normally.” Mr. Filch’s jaw was still shivering from the experience. “Your erratic heartbeat will soon return to normal,” Dumbledore reassured him. “I know it’s painful, but you must breathe,” he instructed again as Mr. Filch grimaced with every breath.

The sounds of footfalls behind him drew Harry’s attention around; it was Hermione accompanied by Professor McGonagall. “Albus, what’s happened?”

“It’s Argus’ heart, Minerva.”

“Oh my!” she exclaimed. “I’ll get Poppy,” she said as she turned back down the hall.

“You don’t have to, Professor,” Hermione told her quickly, “Ron went to get Madam Pomfrey. They should be —”

Harry stood up just as Ron, a bit winded, and Madam Pomfrey rounded the corner. “Oh, Argus!” she exclaimed as she stepped past Professor McGonagall.

“I’ve stabilized him, Poppy, but he’ll still need your healing hands,” Professor Dumbledore explained to her. She immediately went to the caretaker’s side and removed a variety of potions and elixirs from her leather medicine bag.

Professor Dumbledore got up, walked over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and moved everyone away to give Madam Pomfrey more room. “How did you find him, Harry?” the professor asked quietly.

“I’m … not really sure, Professor,” said Harry, racking his brain to try to think of an adequate way to explain the bizarre sight he had witnessed. “We passed Mr. Filch on the way to class and when I looked back down the corridor I saw the walls were, well … moving. They were pulsing rhythmically like —”

“Like a heartbeat?” Dumbledore asked perceptively.

“Yes!” said Harry excitedly. That was exactly it, he thought, suddenly realizing that his hallucination actually had some meaning behind it.

“Mmm, yes,” Dumbledore muttered grimly to himself, “the manifestation can first emerge as a dream or hallucination.” Harry had no idea what he meant or even who he was speaking to.

“Well done, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore told him earnestly, “and thank you. You very likely saved Mr. Filch’s life today. And Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, thank you as well. But you three should probably be getting off to class. Professor McGonagall will be back with you shortly, after she and Madam Pomfrey take Mr. Filch to the infirmary.”

Harry wanted to ask Dumbledore a number of questions. How did he know? Harry pondered. How did I know, for that matter? But the professor, who Harry noticed looked older and more haggard than ever, was clearly preoccupied with something and so Harry let it pass. He collected his school bag and watched as Mr. Filch was gingerly levitated onto a newly summoned stretcher. He then followed Ron and Hermione down the corridor to pick up their bags and all three headed for their shortened Transfiguration lesson.

* * *

The weeks following the incident with Filch and the unusual undulating walls were relatively uneventful. Harry hadn’t had any further hallucinations, and was mostly preoccupied with preparations for his upcoming N.E.W.T.s. The seventh years were no longer being given homework, and the library was persistently full of students from Harry’s year, many of whom seemed to never leave the place; arriving when it opened at eight o’clock in the morning and being escorted out by Madam Pince at eight o’clock at night.

On the final Monday of the month, Harry found himself and Seamus being jostled roughly as they tried to make their way through the crowd leaving the library at closing time. Harry inhaled a rather nasty odor and glanced around to see what it was. Seamus leaned into him and whispered, “I think somebody could do with a bath.” Harry scrunched his nose in agreement.

As they turned the corner up the corridor, they both stopped when someone gruffly called Harry’s name. It was Mr. Filch, who had been out of the hospital for almost a week after reportedly driving Madam Pomfrey to her breaking point with constant inquiries about when he could resume his duties. Filch stepped out of the shadow of a statue of an old witch with a very large wart on her nose. Harry’s heart started beating faster; he really couldn’t afford a detention right now. “Mr. Potter,” he said evenly.

Harry looked over to Seamus who seemed relieved that the caretaker hadn’t mentioned him by name, and was clearing off, saying, “See you, Harry,” as he moved backwards up the hallway.

Harry walked over to Mr. Filch; they were now alone in the corridor. Given the uncomfortable expression he saw on Filch’s face, Harry thought that his side might still be hurting him.

“I wanted to —” Filch started, not quite looking at Harry in the eyes. His face softened and he tried again. “I wanted to thank you for what you did, Mr. Potter.” Mr. Filch then looked at him squarely and earnestly told Harry in his rough, aged voice, “You saved my life. I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to repay you, but I do owe you, son. Thank you. Thank you so much. I appreciate what you did.”

Harry nodded, relieved at not receiving a detention and a bit dumbstruck by Mr. Filch’s unexpected sentiments. The surly caretaker’s grouchiness appeared to quickly return, however. “Erm. Right. Anyway. Good night.” He walked off and Harry was startled again as Mrs. Norris stepped out from behind the statue. She ‘meow’-ed at Harry (whether it was a polite ‘meow’ or not, Harry didn’t know), and happily swished her tail as she followed Mr. Filch down the corridor.

* * *

The month of June brought not only stunningly beautiful weather — “She’s an evil temptress, she is, that Mother Nature,” Ron grumbled, staring longingly out at the lush green lawn — but also fits of near panic from fifth and seventh years alike. Ernie Macmillan had already succumbed; he was the first (but not the last) to be hospitalized for a whole day due to exam-related stress. “Hannah Abbott told me he broke out in hives,” Ginny informed Harry. And Lavender Brown had begun spouting incoherent, but annoyingly vigorous, speeches to herself as she paced around the common room.

But worst of all was Neville who, in the midst of his frantic studies, had developed what Seamus termed a “Hermione Complex”: a sudden urge to visit the library at any given moment. He would wolf down breakfast, lunch, and dinner meals and then immediately excuse himself with the phrase, “Gotta go to the library.” The wide-eyed expression as he paced through the school corridors let passers-by know to yield the right-of-way, lest they get bowled over by his six-foot-two frame. On three different occasions Neville popped through the Gryffindor portrait hole, immediately realized that he needed to be someplace else, quickly muttered, “Gotta go to the library,” and scooted back out the hole, much to the consternation of students trying to follow him into the room.

On top of that distraction, Quidditch practice was more intense than ever. Ron was convinced they might lose their final game to Slytherin even though Gryffindor had the superior team. With Ginny as the team’s best scorer, Harry as Seeker, and Ron in goal, Harry was confident of their chances in the last match of the season. Ron’s barking orders and correcting flight paths from his end of the pitch drew little more than groans from the rest of the team. Frustrated with the constant interruptions in their last day of practice, Harry asked Ginny, “When did he become so bossy?” Ginny replied that she thought a bit too much of Hermione must have rubbed off on him. “They’ve been hanging around together too much.” A shout from the end of the field broke up their conversation, “Come on you two, let’s go!”

As it turned out, Harry was right. Gryffindor flattened Slytherin two hundred and ten to twenty, which secured the Cup for the third year in a row. Ginny scored five of Gryffindor’s goals and Harry, of course, got the Snitch. In fact, Slytherin would have only scored once, but just before the match ended, Ron let in a goal because a fly got lodged in his left nostril and he sneezed as the Quaffle soared past him through the center hoop.

Two days later Neville started his exams. No one, not even Luna, went near him. His Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts and, of course, Herbology exams all went well. But after the practical section of his Transfiguration exam, he seemed shaken. He wouldn’t discuss it with anyone and Harry got the distinct impression that the test would be much more difficult than any of them had imagined.

Neville told Harry he wasn’t much worried about his Care of Magical Creatures exam, and had decided to concentrate fully on his Potions final, which was administered on what is normally an off day, Saturday, by Professor Marchbanks. It turned out to be a good strategy; Neville thought he got at least an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ for Magical Creatures and likely managed another for Potions, even with Professor Snape watching over him from the doorway as he took the test.

By dinner Saturday evening Neville was exhausted, but generally back to normal. With no more exams, he wasn’t prowling through the corridors at top speed anymore. He could actually spend some time with his friends. But Harry and Ron informed him that they would be spending the better part of the evening studying for their own exams that began on Monday. And Hermione had to, of course, be in the library studying for hers.

Neville didn’t seem to be too put-off by this, as it gave him more time to spend with Luna. Sunday afternoon the two shared lunch out under the large beech tree next to the lake. Harry suddenly realized it was Neville’s last day at Hogwarts; he would be leaving after supper. It almost didn’t seem real that they only had three weeks left at Hogwarts, and two of those would be reserved for exams. Neville’s imminent departure brought home that unsettling reality.

* * *

After a celebratory dinner in the Great Hall, Min and Professor Dumbledore walked with Neville down from Gryffindor Tower. Neville looked around the hallways as he strolled through them remembering all the great times he had had. In his first year alone he had nearly been eaten by Fluffy, suffered through Potions with Professor Snape, been petrified by Hermione, took a walk through the Forbidden Forest, and had taken his first flying lesson on a broom; a painful, but very memorable experience.

He was surprised how sad he was at leaving, even though he knew this day would eventually come. The castle seemed unusually empty. No noise came from anywhere in the hallways and he met not a single person on the way down to the entrance. They reached the entrance hall and Neville paused before the doors. “Well, this is it,” he said. Shaking Headmaster Dumbledore’s hand, he thanked him for everything he had done for him. It had been, “… the best time of my life,” explained Neville.

He opened the front doors to leave Hogwarts for the last time and saw the entire school standing on the front lawn. All the students and faculty, even Professor Snape, were waiting to see him off. A cheer erupted as he stepped out onto the stairs. Neville turned bright red and smiled from ear to ear. With the notable exception of students from Slytherin house, who were taking their cues from Draco Malfoy, Neville went down the line shaking everyone’s hand. It seemed to take forever but Neville didn’t want it to end.

“’Bye, Hermione. Thanks for everything. You were always so nice to me,” he said as he hugged her. His roommates, Dean, Seamus, Harry, and Ron all wanted to shake his hand but he gave each a hug instead. “Thanks so much. It’s been incredible. I couldn’t have picked four better roommates.”

“Neither could we, Neville,” said Dean.

“Thanks, Neville. It was really amazing having you as a roommate,” said Harry, which reminded Neville of the time that he and Harry sat down and talked about each other’s parents during their sixth year. Neville had told Harry it was one of the things that helped him the most to deal with his parents’ condition, but Harry said he thought that he was the one who got the better part of the deal.

“Take care,” said Ron.

“And be careful,” Seamus advised.

“Learn loads and come back and teach us some things!”

Neville turned to Luna. No one had ever seen her in such a state before. Her eyes were red and swollen. They embraced tightly and Luna didn’t want to let go. Neville promised her that he’d come back for holidays. She agreed to walk down to Hogsmeade with him.

The crowd outside the school dispersed and their attention quickly went back to their upcoming exams.

* * *

Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, Ron was reviewing their schedule. “Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, then Defense Against the Dark Arts on Thursday. And then the only real thing left is Potions with Care of Magical Creatures on Tuesday after next. One good, hard week, and then it’s mostly over with.”

Hermione glowered at him. “Oh, shut it, Ron.”

“Schedule a bit full, Hermione?” he asked playfully.

“You have no idea!” she ranted. “After you’ve finished most of your exams I’ve still got Potions and Magical Creatures and Astronomy and, to top it all off, Arithmancy! Oh, I wish I could have taken some exams early like Neville did; it would be so nice to have a few of them over with. But thanks for reminding me,” she added acerbically.

Harry glared at Ron and nudged him. Ron began a bit tentatively, “Er, you know, Hermione, I wasn’t poking fun or anything.” Hermione looked up at him and then went immediately back to her notes. “Okay … maybe just a little. But after your last test maybe we could, you know, take a stroll around the castle or something.”

She looked up at Ron once more but with a much softer look on her face this time. “Okay!” she said cheerfully.

That’s not a bad idea, Harry mused, nodding to himself. Maybe I should try that with Ginny.

“You know, the two of you are getting better at that,” said Hermione, bringing Harry out of his thoughts.

“What?” they asked together.

“Girls.”

Charms went well for all three. Ron had fully mastered levitation and Hermione was certain she had achieved an ‘Outstanding’ grade in the exam. She told them this as if she was initially convinced she would fail, but had surprised herself by doing so well. It was all the two of them could do not to roll their eyes.

Tuesday was their tough Transfiguration test. Everyone was very tense for this one; the animals and objects that they had to transform were becoming larger and more complicated. But first they had to endure another morning of owl posts. Normally Harry, along with everyone else, enjoyed the morning owls because they often brought gifts and letters from home. But ever since the dementors and Death Eaters fled Azkaban last year and the killings began, they now dreaded receiving news. On three separate occasions students had learned that, overnight, their entire immediate family had been murdered and a Dark Mark had been left to hover over each grisly scene. Devastated students were escorted out of the Great Hall shaking and in tears. It had become a terrifying time for all of them. Thankfully there had been no murders the previous night, but when Hermione opened her Daily Prophet newspaper, she still saw an odd story that bothered her.

She read the article aloud:

PHYSICIAN ATTACKED

Raddeus Malodious, a long time employee of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, was found trapped inside a ventilation shaft Monday morning. Authorities were unsure how he got in there. “It was quite a tight fit,” stated an anonymous source with the Ministry of Magic. Investigators were still questioning potential witnesses in the laboratories at the hospital. Malodious himself has been unable to provide authorities with any information as he was attacked with, “a very powerful Memory Charm,” according to one source. Sources speculated that this might be the work of Dark wizards affiliated with You-Know-Who. In a statement hospital administrator Violet Blue expressed her sympathies to the victim’s family and hoped that he would make a full and speedy recovery. “Mr. Malodious has been a Potions Master at St. Mungo’s for nearly twenty six years, and it would be a great loss to the hospital if he were unable to recover from his injuries.”

“That’s unbelievable!” Ron exclaimed. “You-Know-Who’s followers are going after hospitals now? They must be mad.”

“Or bored,” interjected Harry.

“Why would they bother attacking healers?”

“To spread fear and panic,” said Hermione. “Letting the Ministry know they can strike anywhere for any reason, that sort of thing.”

“Be careful. Don’t you two lose your concentration,” advised Harry, “we’ve got Transfiguration today. This is no time to be distracted.” Hermione nodded and closed her eyes to relax once more before heading off for their exam.

Seamus, sitting next to Harry, leaned in to the trio and whispered, “Do you know what I heard? I heard that we have to transform a horseshoe into a fully grown horse!”

“What!” said Ron a bit too loudly, drawing some glares. “But they can’t expect that. A horse is way too big. We only got up to pigs this year. How could they expect us to do an animal four times larger?”

“I dunno, Ron, but that’s what I heard Neville had to do.”

“So that’s what Neville was so shaken up about after his test,” offered Harry. He put down his toast. Even the bland toast seemed to make the tightness in his stomach grow.

But Hermione agreed with Ron; a horse was too big. They probably had to turn a biscuit into a dog or something, she said. And indeed Seamus was wrong; they didn’t have to change a shoe into a horse, instead they were required to transform a paw-foot coffee table into a lion. But Ron was still pale as he came out of the Great Hall after his test. Harry and Hermione were waiting for him. “A large cub; that’s all I could manage. I don’t believe they expected us to be able to do that.”

“Mine just had the beginnings of its mane,” said Hermione, shaking her head.

“And I think mine was barely an adolescent. No mane at all,” Harry added.

“Well, I suspect you both did better than Parvati,” said Hermione. “She was in tears as she ran to the girls’ bathroom; I heard she only managed a large tabby cat.”

The rest of the week’s exams went well for all three. Herbology wasn’t nearly as bad as Ron had feared. Thursday was their last test day of the week and only Hermione seemed upset about her Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. She complained that Anthony Goldstein sneezed while she was conjuring her Patronus and it hadn’t appeared solidly formed.

Even with that flub, Harry and Ron convinced her that she had done great on the exam; she had gotten everything else right, after all. And they were able to persuade her to have a bit of a lie-in the next day and to take the morning off from studying before she burned herself out.

* * *

The students in Professor Minerva McGonagall’s second year Transfiguration class were all finishing the last parts of their term final on Friday. She sat at her desk grading their final homework assignment. An old barn owl swooped into the classroom, startling many of the students, though McGonagall seemed unruffled by the unexpected entrance. No doubt it had happened many times before.

The owl dropped off her letter and the Professor thanked her. The owl took off and McGonagall instructed the class to finish up their written tests. She unfolded the letter and was quite shocked to see who had sent it. She began reading the letter with rapt attention. After only a couple of sentences she let out an unusually loud, “Oh!” which startled her class once more. Her hand covered her mouth as she read on. “OH, MY!” she exclaimed, suddenly becoming aware that the entire class was staring at her. Clearly agitated she got up from her desk and marched quickly out of the classroom. The class watched in silence as she left without saying a word. They began muttering among themselves when she stopped, poked her head back in, and gave the class instructions to finish their tests, put them on her desk, and then leave once the bell rang. With that she stormed off toward the Gryffindor common room.

Ron and Hermione were sitting in the library poring over a number of textbooks for their Potions N.E.W.T. As it was a class he almost didn’t get into — Snape’s absence at the beginning of term last school year due to his work for the Order allowed Ron, Harry, and Neville into N.E.W.T. level Potions, much to Snape’s dismay — Ron was determined to get the best grade he could, and so was studying hard for the exam.

Professor McGonagall briskly walked into the library. It was as close to running as Hermione had seen her attempt. Nearly out of breath, she told them there was something extraordinary they had to read. She handed them the letter and then looked around to see who might be watching. Hermione saw that the letter was written by Neville Longbottom and his mother. Neville’s mother, Alice, and his father, Frank, had spent the last fifteen years at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries after having been tortured to the point of being driven insane. As the two read, the distressed looks on both their faces grew more and more intense. Ron finally broke the silence with a much too loud, “NO!”

“Shhh!” Both Hermione and Professor McGonagall had to shush him.

“But that’s … that’s … it’s not possible,” he forcefully muttered under his breath.

“What are we going to do?” asked Hermione.

“I will call a staff meeting to discuss the matter. Perhaps some of the other professors can shine some light on —”

“Hello, Professor,” said Professor Dumbledore.

“OH!” McGonagall shouted as she turned quickly to find Headmaster Dumbledore standing right behind her. “Professor Dumbledore. I … I didn’t see you come in.” Hermione quickly hid the letter under the table.

Harry and Ludo Bagman, who was carrying a copy of Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland, were accompanying Professor Dumbledore. “My apologies for startling you, Minerva. It was not my intention,” apologized Dumbledore. “I thought you had a class at this time.”

McGonagall stumbled through an explanation. “Oh, well, yes … er, but I had to … you see … Um … I needed something in the … To talk to Miss Granger. As it were.”

Ron was still wide-eyed with fright, but Hermione was surreptitiously making faces at Harry, as if she urgently needed to speak with him. Harry nodded to her that he understood. Ludo Bagman hadn’t noticed Hermione’s signs; he was too engrossed in the “conversation” between Dumbledore and McGonagall.

“Ah, I see, no need to explain, Minerva,” said Dumbledore. “Well, have you gotten your book, Ludo?” Mr. Bagman nodded. “Very well, we should be going. Good day to you all.”

“Professor, may I have a minute to speak with Hermione?” asked Harry.

“Of course, Harry. We’ll be waiting right outside,” said Dumbledore. The two wizards then walked out into the corridor.

Seeing the strange looks on everyone’s faces prompted Harry to ask the obvious question. “What’s going on?” Hermione pulled the letter out from under the table and showed it to him. As he read his eyes got wider and his jaw dropped open. If Professor McGonagall hadn’t put her hand under Harry’s chin to close his mouth, he might have succeeded in catching a fly or two.

“This … this can’t be for real,” said Harry. “Neville’s parents …”

“Harry!” Professor Dumbledore called from the hallway, earning him a reproachful glare from Madam Pince. “You haven’t forgotten us, have you?”

“Er, no sir, I’m coming,” Harry replied. He handed the note back to Hermione and mouthed, “What am I going to do?” to her as he walked out of the library.

“What do we do, Professor?” Ron asked Professor McGonagall.

“It’s almost time for dinner. I will meet with some of the teachers after we eat. I hope they might have some explanations for this. I’m not sure any of them will quite believe it. Frankly, I’m not sure even I do,” she said. Professor McGonagall then collected the note and tried straightening her hair before going down for supper.

* * *

Ron and Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table barely eating their food. They weren’t sure if they should tell anyone else such a fantastic story. Starting a rumor of this magnitude would probably get them into serious trouble. Besides, it’s unlikely anyone would believe them. But both did notice that Harry had not joined them for dinner.

After supper Professor McGonagall gathered what Hogwarts faculty she could pry away from their duties into the staffroom along with Hermione and Ron. She pulled out the owl post allegedly penned by Alice Longbottom. Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape sat and read the letter in silence.

“This can’t be so,” explained Professor Flitwick with surprising calm. “There would have been some indications that something was amiss by now. How could one fashion such an extraordinary scheme and keep it going for so long is —”

“This letter is utter nonsense,” interrupted Snape. “I have known Professor Dumbledore since my years at this school as a child.” Professor McGonagall was about to say something, but Snape raised his hand to cut her off. “He vouched for me, at great risk to his own reputation, even before the Dark Lord first vanished and I helped him keep tabs on some of my old … acquaintances. It is highly illogical that he or his brother Aberforth would have kept up a separate relationship with any of the people mentioned in this letter.”

“But Severus, that is Alice Longbottom’s handwriting,” Professor McGonagall explained. “It has been quite some many years, but I do still recognize —”

“She and her husband have been incommunicable with the rest of the Wizarding world for well over a decade,” insisted Snape. “They do not even recognize their own child. And the idea that Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore have been conspiring with Death Eaters in support of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named over these many years is simply preposterous.”

“If they have, then we are all in mortal danger,” Professor McGonagall said crossly.

“You of all people should not be subject to such flights of fancy, Minerva,” said Snape coolly.

“Hello!” Professor Dumbledore exclaimed as he opened the door and stepped inside the room. Snape was the only one who didn’t jump at his sudden appearance. “Oh, have I missed a meeting?”

“No, not at all, Headmaster, we were simply having a pleasant chat,” responded Snape as he took the parchment and crumbled it up in his hands under the table.

“And what are our Head Boy and Head Girl doing in the staffroom?” asked Dumbledore, eyeing Ron and Hermione keenly.

Hermione opened her mouth. “We —” and her words almost failed her. “We were wondering where Harry was,” she finally forced out.

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Bagman are still having a conversation about Harry’s future,” said Dumbledore. “He’ll be back with you shortly, I’m sure.

“Well, then, I believe that we should all be getting off to our rooms. Exams resume on Monday and I’m sure all our students will wish to be both well prepared and well rested.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” said Snape. He looked at Professor McGonagall, who glowered back at him.

The Professors scattered in various directions. As they headed for the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Hermione both had the same thing in mind. They did their best not to run so as not to draw too much attention. When they entered the common room they saw a number of students taking a much-needed break from their studies. Seamus and Dean were having a couple of butterbeers by the fireplace, so they knew the seventh years’ boys’ dormitory would be empty. Ron let Hermione in, closed the door, and opened Harry’s trunk with a series of taps of his wand.

“You know,” said Hermione, having second thoughts, “maybe we should ask Professor McGonagall to ask Professor Dumbledore about …”

“Are you MAD? Even Snape thought the letter from Neville’s mum was a load of bollocks. Look, we’ll just walk around a bit and see if we can’t find anything unusual. Maybe … maybe Harry really is talking to Bagman about his future career and we’ll run into him along the way. We’ll check around the castle first, then outside. Okay? By the time we’re done, Harry’ll probably be sitting in the common room wondering where we’ve been. Fair enough?”

“Okay, fine,” she said with a resigned sigh.

At the bottom of Harry’s trunk he found the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over the both of them, taking care that nothing was showing out the bottom. They quietly sneaked back downstairs and climbed through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady asked who was there and Parvati Patil peered out through the now open entrance to see who was coming in, but saw no one.

Ron and Hermione spent the next two hours looking everywhere they thought Harry might be, including the library, the Great Hall, and the kitchens. But even Dobby didn’t know where Harry was. They wandered past the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office numerous times to see if they might catch Harry coming out. They went to all the halls leading into the common rooms of the other three houses. They tried outside on the Quidditch pitch, around the lake, and eventually came to Hagrid’s house. They gingerly asked if Hagrid had seen Harry, but Ron dared not mention the letter McGonagall had received; he knew of Hagrid’s affinity for Dumbledore. He was afraid they might get squashed for even suggesting the idea.

Thoroughly dejected, they sneaked back in the front entrance to check the entrance to Dumbledore’s office once more before heading back to the Gryffindor common room.

“Harry’s got to be in the Headmaster’s office,” whispered Ron.

“Even if he is, Ron, we don’t know the password. And I wouldn’t want to be caught sneaking up there anyway. We certainly wouldn’t be able to talk our way out of that one.”

“We have to go see McGonagall,” he stated. Hermione held her tongue. “There’s something wrong here; I know there is. And it’s not just that letter from Neville.”

“All right, but let’s check by Dumbledore’s office once more first and then Gryffindor Tower and then we go to McGonagall.”

“Fine.”

They walked up the next flight of stairs to the second floor, turned the corner and collided right into Professor Dumbledore, Ludo Bagman, and Lucius Malfoy coming the other way! They were accompanied by a couple of other wizards along with four vicious-looking dogs on thick leashes.

Mr. Malfoy reached out to grab whatever he had run into and seized Hermione’s hair along with the cloak, pulling it partly off of them. Lucius and his unknown friends quickly drew their wands while Ron and Hermione struggled under the cloak. They both stared at Professor Dumbledore who looked back sympathetically, but did nothing. The two wayward students were quickly subdued. Their wands were confiscated and Lucius kept Harry’s cloak for himself.

The group set off in the direction of the Slytherin common room. Professor Dumbledore went inside and emerged a few minutes later with Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Draco Malfoy. Draco seemed very surprised to see his father. They were having a bit of trouble quieting down the dogs, so they picked up their pace.

Their last stop that night would be a hidden part of the dungeons, one old, unused dungeon in particular. Professor Dumbledore instructed the group to wait in the front entrance hall while he went deeper into the dungeon corridors. Minutes later he emerged with a rather dirty Harry Potter, who had his hands shackled in front of him with heavy brass binders. Dumbledore had brought two more pairs. He gave them to Lucius to bind Ron’s and Hermione’s wrists.

Harry was equal parts frightened and furious. He had spent the last three hours sitting in a small, dark prison cell down in the bowels of the castle, waiting and wondering. He wasn’t completely certain what was going on, but knew the boiling anger he felt toward Professor Dumbledore right at this moment was likely justified.

To Harry, Ron looked bewildered and downcast. Hermione, however, was darting her eyes around the entrance hall to all the doors, apparently hoping that help might come bursting through one of them at any moment. Two of the dogs kept growling menacingly at her as she did this.

As they all were about to enter the Great Hall, a voice filtered down from the top of the marble staircase.

“What’s all this noise?” Snape asked as he strolled quizzically down the stairs. The entire group came to an abrupt halt. “Lucius. It’s interesting to see you here, particularly given that you are a wanted wizard. Quite a gathering you’ve put together.”

“Ahhh, Severus, my old friend. It’s good to see you again,” said Lucius Malfoy. “You were missed at the last gathering. Master was most displeased; he seemed to believe that you had abandoned him. But I don’t believe you have. I believe you are still faithful to the cause.” Lucius smiled. “You still have that lust in your heart for the power he can bestow, don’t you, Severus?”

Snape, now standing at eye level in the entrance hall with the rest, glared at him with a hateful stare.

“Come, old friend. You’re needed once again. Show your loyalty and you will be rewarded,” said Lucius.

Snape pondered Malfoy’s words for a moment and then turned to Professor Dumbledore. “Headmaster —”

But Dumbledore cut him off, “Professor, I think it would be best if you tended to your duties as head of Slytherin house. We have things well in hand here, thank you.”

“Oh, don’t send him away, Albus,” Lucius taunted. “I’m sure he will want to stay after he fully understands the circumstances.”

“I believe we will wait in the Great Hall. Students follow me,” instructed Dumbledore.

“Stay, Draco,” Lucius commanded softly, not taking his eyes off Snape.

Crabbe and Goyle, the shackled Gryffindors, and Ludo Bagman followed Professor Dumbledore into the Great Hall. Harry looked back at Professor Snape as he left the hallway. Only Snape, the Malfoys, and the two Death Eaters with their dogs remained.

Ludo closed the door behind them. The group walked over and stood in front of one of the fireplaces in the Great Hall. Harry heard some forceful talking, but couldn’t really make out what was being said. He could, however, feel what was going on. He seemed to sense the hateful energy flowing out in the hallway.

But all of them heard the growling. The menacing growls soon turned into malevolent snarls and staccato barks. Harry’s breathing became shorter. His pulse raced almost as if he were the one out in the hall. And then they heard it. The barking filled the entire hallway with sound. The growling and vicious snarling of the dogs nearly drowned out the screams of a man being violently attacked. Harry recoiled in horror. He didn’t want to know anymore. They all listened to the terrible sounds of dogs snarling and gnashing, and Snape’s cries of anguish. Ron and Hermione stared at the ground shocked and bewildered.

Harry’s anger and desperate sadness rose, almost bringing him to tears. He looked at Dumbledore appalled, who simply bowed his head and sighed slightly. After the noise faded everyone, except for Dumbledore, turned to watch Lucius, Draco, and the Death Eaters walk through the doors. The dogs were covered in blood, licking it off their snouts. One, however, was missing. Harry could see that Draco was completely white and, carrying a long, unfocused stare, he was shaking slightly. The wide-eyed adrenaline-rush expression on Lucius’ face made Harry look away in disgust.

Lucius magically lit a fire in the cold fireplace, pulled out a bag of Floo powder, and his companions all entered the flames. Lucius then cast a Silencing Charm on his three captives and pushed Hermione, Ron, and Harry each in turn into the fireplace and spoke their destination as the green flames erupted. He quickly followed.

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