“You summoned me, Professor?”

   “Sit down, Draco.”

   Malfoy cautiously took the chair opposite Professor Snape’s desk. The professor didn’t even look like he was paying the slightest iota of attention to Malfoy. Absorbed in a copy of the Daily Prophet, Snape’s didn’t even look at Malfoy.

   After a few seconds, Malfoy drummed his fingers on the chair. “I’m sitting.”

   “I’m aware, Draco.”

   There was another few seconds of silence, and then –

   “Is there a reason why I’m here?”

   The tightness in Snape’s jaw and the sudden whitening of his knuckles betrayed the professor’s annoyance. Malfoy nearly allowed a smirk to cross his face, but a quick glance towards Snape stopped him in mid-expression.

   “Why the hurry, Draco? Have I interrupted your busy schedule?”

   Malfoy gritted his teeth. “You could say that. I might have a free period, but I would –”

   “I have been charged with a new task, Draco.”

   Malfoy paused. And he wouldn’t have mentioned it unless…

   “It has something to do with –”

   “Speak one more word about that and I’ll have you magically silenced,” Snape snapped, the paper snapping down in an instant. Malfoy jumped at the sudden move, but Snape only rose to his feet, glaring down at his student.

   “There was a mistake.”

   Malfoy’s mouth fell open. “What?”

   “A mistake was made,” Snape said grimly, “and the Dark Lord has charged me with its rectification.”

   Malfoy struggled for words. “But we… we followed… I mean, we did everything the Dark Lord told us to –”

   “Shut up, Malfoy,” Snape snarled, slamming both palms on the desk, and Malfoy felt the first twinges of fear run down his spine at the expression on Snape’s face. “There are ears in this castle, as well as eyes, the owners of which would have no compunctions squeezing the truth out of you.”

   “Dumbledore keeps Moody on a short leash –”

   “With your type of attack?” Snape’s scowl grew even deeper. “It’s a wonder Dumbledore hasn’t approached you himself.”

   Malfoy’s heart started hammering in his chest. “He… he knows?”

   “He knows an agent was responsible for some, if not all, of this attack, and it is only a matter of time before he starts asking questions of those with the closest connections to the Dark Lord.” Snape leaned over the desk, his dark eyes boring into Malfoy. “And no amount of Occlumency will save you from him, Draco.”

   Malfoy swallowed hard at the dire words. “We covered our tracks, there’s nothing to even tie us to the attack –”

   “And the Dark Lord knows that you are the ideal scapegoat in this sort of investigation,” Snape finished, folding his arms over his chest. “Hence why he entrusted the duties to Theodore Nott, allowing you to speak the truth – that you know nothing of the magic you have unwittingly unleashed.”

   “Nott wants me to know it,” Malfoy growled. “He’s going to make my life miserable in Slytherin –”

   “You should be less concerned with Nott and more concerned with the wizard in your year who is capable of murder,” Snape said, neatly folding his copy of the Prophet as he kept an eye fixed on Malfoy.

   Malfoy scoffed. “Potter doesn’t have a clue.”

   “He’s believed you are the villain before, and that was when he had scruples,” Snape said coolly. “He’ll be coming for you, regardless of what Dumbledore has to say – and Potter’s shown himself willing to kill those who get in his way. He reportedly killed Dmitri Kemester, a trained Hit Wizard, and his knowledge of lethal spells is growing.”

   “Kemester’s not the only one he killed,” Malfoy said after a few seconds.

   Snape raised an eyebrow. “So your father told you.”

   “Of course he did,” Malfoy growled savagely. “He killed Blaise’s mother and for what he did to my father…”

   “Draco, vengeance is not your concern, your father already has that well in hand,” Snape replied icily. “I have heard his most recent plan.”

   “And?”

   “And I am not to tell you, because that sort of game is something that your father wants kept out of Hogwarts,” Snape snapped. “You’re already a target, Draco – if he knew you had any sort of ties to Lucius’ newest plan…”

   “Fine, it’s not my concern,” Malfoy said bitterly. “So what’s your ‘task’ then, Professor?”

   Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he leaned over the table again. Draco immediately began to regret his scornful, disrespectful remarks.

   “Providing that you followed the Dark Lord’s instructions to the letter,” Snape growled, “I am to determine the cause of that magical disjunction that occurred while I was out of the school. I can only presume that you were working on the mission that night?”

   Malfoy swallowed hard. “Nott was. Blaise and I just… watched.”

   “That night was also the night Potter vanished from this school,” Snape said, his dark eyes blazing. “The records were not nearly falsified well enough to indicate he was in the Hospital Wing, which leads me to think not only did Potter have an accomplice, but that what he was attempting was both secret and dangerous. I suspect that whatever magic he worked, it was tied to the subsequent convincing of one Nathan Cassane to support his cause.”

   Malfoy snorted incredulously. “Potter, convince the Supreme Mugwump? That’s insane.”

   “Cassane voted with Potter, and the only evidence we have that the two ever had the slightest bit of contact was when Potter’s legal counsel met with him hours before the school governors voted. So, assuming Cassane did not vote out of the goodness of his heart, we must draw the conclusion that something was used to coerce or trick him, and I suspect whatever that was may have been created or worked during the night Potter disappeared.”

   “And you think that might have created that… magical effect? Around the entire castle?” Malfoy asked, disbelieving. “Potter’s not that skilled.”

   “Obviously, which makes me believe he had help,” Snape snapped. “Now listen closely – Dumbledore was also investigating that magic, but his efforts were momentarily stymied by your mission’s aftermath. It will not take him long, however, to begin to draw connections between those fell effects and yours. The Dark Lord only knows what the long-term effects of that disjunction will actually be….”

    “So what does all of this have to do with me?” Malfoy demanded.

   “I want reports,” Snape snarled. “I want information, I want facts, I want dates and times, I want to know whenever Nott uses the littlest magic in the course of this mission, and most of all, I want discretion. Nothing to draw attention to me, you, Nott, or Zabini, because if one of you breaks….” Snape turned away, his eyes shadowed.

   “We won’t break,” Malfoy said quickly.

   “I am playing a very dangerous game, Draco,” Snape said darkly, “and if we are exposed, there will be no mercy for you and less for me – from either side.”

   “Dumbledore wouldn’t kill us,” Malfoy said, unable to keep the hesitant note of uncertainty out of his voice. “I mean, we’re his students, he wouldn’t dare –”

   “You were responsible for unleashing evils into his school that drove four innocent girls over the brink of insanity,” Snape interrupted. “I would not be so certain of how far Dumbledore would – or would not – go. After all, he’s only –”

   The professor jerked in mid-word, and his tightly clenched fist slammed into the desk, quavering for a few seconds.

   “Professor, are you all right?”

   “Get out, Draco,” Snape whispered through uneven clenched teeth.

   “But I just want –”

   “Now!”

   Malfoy was moving before Snape’s other fist slammed against the desk.

*          *          *

   Snape breathed very quickly, unable to keep the flush from his face as the pain radiated up his left arm. He was thankful he hadn’t been holding any potions ingredients – as it was, Malfoy was already suspicious…

   He could not Disapparate within Hogwarts, but he could use the Floo Network – not even Dumbledore could monitor all the fires at once, and he would be gone for but a moment…

   He hurled the handful of powder into the simmering coals behind his desk, and, clenching his teeth against the pain, he shouted the name of the Dark Lord’s newest hideout before diving into the flames.

   Grates whirled past his vision, and even though he could feel himself spinning wildly, it still didn’t pull his mind away from the pain…

   And then he heard a voice – one he never expected to hear.

   “Well, well, well, I never expected the flames of hell to be so green.”

   Snape could only watch in shock as the poltergeist materialized. His whirling motion slowed, and he could feel the flames growing hotter all around him. This is impossible, I can’t be stopping in the middle of the Floo Network!

   Peeves cackled madly as he whirled around Snape, flying faster than even the fire had spun. “It won’t get so easy, you know! It never does!”

   Snape opened his mouth to speak and promptly inhaled a mouthful of hot ash. It was all he could do not to gag and choke on the cooled embers coating his tongue.

   “You know, Snape, you ever wondered why we’re here?” Peeves asked conversationally, stopping his own flight even as Snape stopped rotating in the fire. The flames around him were getting hotter and hotter, but Peeves didn’t even seem to care. “You know, here instead of there?”

   It’s hard to care about the meaning of life while you’re being roasted alive! Snape thought furiously, frantically wiping the greasy sweat from his brow. The heat was stifling, hotter than most potions ever got, and he knew it was only going to get worse if he could not free himself. Apparition’s out, and Merlin knows what diving into another grate would get me, but a Portkey might just work…

   He scrabbled for his wand, thankful that he had treated it against heat years ago – it was a common practice for potion-makers – and yanked a glass bottle free from his robes, which were beginning to smolder and char…

   “And you know what’s funny, Snape?” Peeves asked with a wicked smile. “You were already going there, and now you’re trying to get back to here! Climbing up a waterfall of that Great River, it was only a matter of time before –”

   Portus!

   “– you were torn free, only to fall forever!” Peeves finished with another insane laugh. “But you know, dear Severus, all too well, what goes around –”

   3…2…1…

   “– comes back around!” Peeves howled.

   The yank behind Snape’s navel did not come, and for a second, he thought the magic hadn’t worked. But then he felt himself spinning, whirling, head over heels, back towards –

   CRACK.

   He was thrown from the fireplace backwards onto a cold floor, his clothes and hair smoking and covered in ash. The glass bottle shattered, and he could feel a trickle of blood leaking between his fingers.

   One thing was certain: this was not Hogwarts, or the Dark Lord’s sanctuary.

   “Look, we’ve got a runner!” a figure in dark robes yelled from behind a makeshift pile of furniture. “Take him alive!”

   Snape got to his feet and raised his wand, even as a dozen Hit Wizards descended upon him.

*          *          *

   The sitting room of Nathan Cassane’s house, Harry discovered to his astonishment and pleasure, was just as magical as the drawing room.

   Ivy wreathed the massive arched window set into the stone wall that supported a third of the roughly hexagonal room, but golden sunlight still streamed through. The other walls were paneled with dark wood, but Harry could see subtle veins inside the wood glow golden. Around the high-ceilinged room, mismatched armchairs and oaken tables were strewn with leather-bound books, papers, more of the strange brass instruments, and what appeared to be a pile of Muggle electrical equipment that Harry didn’t recognize.

   “Well, take a seat, Harry,” Cassane said, nudging aside a few books with his foot into a corner of the room. “Mind the oscilloscopes and radiance coils on the chairs over there – they tend to spark more than they should, and I haven’t had a chance to fully adjust them.”

   “Right,” Harry said nervously, stepping away from the strange equipment and taking a seat in one of the few open chairs in the room. It creaked comfortably under his weight, but Harry didn’t notice. He was watching Cassane, who had drawn his wand and was sending a score of brass mechanisms whizzing into the air to rotate around the room.

   “I apologize for the mess,” Cassane replied with a hint of a shrug, taking a seat in a massive leather armchair next to the fireplace. “I haven’t had much of an opportunity to clean since I got back from my last trip. I only returned for the vote, as a matter of fact. I haven’t even had time to get those installed properly.” He pointed at the electrical equipment, which sparked threateningly at him, the screens flickering to life for a brief second before shutting off.

   “I thought Muggle electronics don’t work where there’s a lot of magic,” Harry said slowly.

   “And so they don’t – not usually, anyways,” Cassane finished with a grin as he waved his wand again. A few glasses zoomed out of a small concealed cupboard, along with a rather dusty bottle. “But, from time to time, wizards try to make them work. From everything I’ve heard, Arthur Weasley is notorious for it. The funny thing is, a group of American wizards down in Texas have made remarkable progress.” He laughed once, the deep sound filling the room. “A pity the rest of their fragmented wizarding society will never be able to utilize it.”

   “Wait, you were in the United States before you came here?”

   “It’s an interesting land, Harry – far less developed than our own and hardly a coherent whole, but still interesting,” Cassane said with a shrug. “Whiskey? It’s not Firewhiskey, if you’re wondering.”

   “Aren’t I under-age to be drinking that?”

   Cassane gave Harry a frank, knowing look. “And you’ve cared before?”

   “I… well, that’s –”

   But Cassane was already chuckling as he set aside his full glass to pluck Harry’s out of the air. Pointing his wand at the glass, he filled it neatly with water before sending it flying across the room to Harry. “Irrelevant? Different? Similarities between the two are interesting to note Harry, if only for their parallelism.”

   “Uh… right,” Harry replied, looking around the room. Built into the walls were massive bronze shelves, surprisingly barren of ornamentation. But resting upon the shelves were dozens of things, nothing like Harry had seen before. Many looked to be geometrically impossible, connected and built in ways that defied gravity or any other laws of motion and moving in ways that made Harry frown with disbelief. Strange, that I never saw anything like those in Dumbledore’s office… must be foreign…

   “And indeed they are.”

   Harry looked quickly back at Cassane, who winked, allowing a small smile to creep onto his lined face.

   “Did you read my mind?”

   “I saw your gaze and inferred,” Cassane replied innocently. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

   “Some of them are,” Harry admitted after a few seconds. “The rest… I dunno, they’re weird more than anything.”

   “And with each of them is a story,” Cassane finished, a strange note of sadness filling his voice as he rose to his feet, his fingers sliding along the cool glass in his hand, filled with an amber liquid. “It’s a shame, then, that too few people would want to hear such tales.”

   “I wouldn’t say that,” Harry said quickly, getting up himself to take a closer look. “Some of them look quite extraordinary –”

   “And therein lies the problem,” Cassane interrupted, raising a long finger as he moved next to Harry. “Have you ever wondered, Harry, why you have never seen a wizarding museum, or why your History of Magic teacher is a ghost who repeats the same tired lines year after year? Think about it for a moment.”

   Harry frowned. “I… well, I guess it’s probably because most people find History of Magic boring… just not interesting, I think.”

   Cassane’s laugh was bitter this time, the merriment gone. “If they only knew… no, this fault lies less with the wizarding world and more with our society in general. Too few have respect for what came before, and the lessons and truths of the ages. They prefer to gloss over the past, or worse, paint it in the garish colours of nostalgia.” Cassane looked at Harry, and he was struck by the depths of the sadness in Cassane’s brown eyes. “And it doesn’t help that those who forget the past…”

   “Are doomed to repeat it,” Harry murmured.

   “Very true,” Cassane replied, turning away from the shelves and giving the electronic equipment a good swat with the back of his hand as it extended a bright tendril of electricity at him. “And you’ll often find that history becomes a crucial tool when discovering the truth.”

   “What you told Dumbledore…”

   “Is a piece of a history that you’ll never learn in Hogwarts, unless you opt to take History of Magic past your O.W.L. year – and I can assure you, nobody ever does.” Cassane sat down and took a sip of his drink. “Even the purebloods, who relish their long family trees so much, won’t deign to take History of Magic.”

   “Probably because they consider it a waste of time,” Harry said, unable to keep the blunt honesty out of his voice. “Binns is a terrible professor –”

   “Oh, believe me, I know, but even with a good professor, they wouldn’t take it,” Cassane countered, setting his glass down with a hollow clink. “Perhaps because they are scared of what they might just find – how they might not be as pure as they think….

   “But that’s hardly the point,” he said suddenly, sitting up and looking intently at Harry. “You didn’t come here to discuss whiskey or history with me – you came because –”

   “I came because we need your help,” Harry said quickly, sitting down and picking up his water glass.

   “Or rather, because Dumbledore thinks he could use my help,” Cassane countered smoothly, taking another swig. “Which I don’t believe the two of you require. Dumbledore is an extremely intelligent man, and I’m sure that with time, he could solve this problem in which you are facing at Hogwarts.”

   “Maybe, maybe not, but the point here is that we don’t have the time,” Harry said, setting his own glass down after downing half of it in a single gulp. “Something horrible happened at Hogwarts, and we don’t have any leads. And coupled with the... conflict with the Ministry and with Voldemort, it makes things significantly more complicated.”

   “Probably because the two of you are looking for connections where there should be connections, and not where the connections actually are,” Cassane replied cryptically. “The real world has never worked like that and it never will.”

   “That’s not the point,” Harry said impatiently. “If we want to solve this before all hell breaks loose, we’re going to need help –”

   “My help,” Cassane said sharply.

   “Well… it would be appreciated,” Harry finished, rather lamely.

   Cassane did laugh at that. “I’m sure it would be.”

   “So… will you listen?” Harry asked hopefully.

   “Why don’t you tell me the details, so perhaps I can understand the context of that little clue that was provided to you?” Cassane said after a second’s thought. “It is not my duty to help you with this, but I enjoy a good puzzle as much as anyone.”

   “This is more than just a ‘puzzle’, Mr. Cassane,” Harry said, real anger filling his voice now. “People are ending up worse than dead because of this.”

   “Then what exactly are you waiting for?” Cassane asked, swallowing the remaining whiskey in his glass with an interested expression that Harry couldn’t quite interpret. “Tell me more.”

*          *          *

   “Harry’s gone again, isn’t he?”

   “Before you even ask, Hermione, I don’t know where he went –”

   “I wasn’t going to ask that,” Hermione said quickly as she shifted nervously in her chair. Given the chaos in the class, Charms was a good time to talk. “He doesn’t trust either of us enough –”

   “He trusts me just fine, thank you,” Ron interrupted, frowning with concentration as he pointed his wand at the glass of water on his desk that he was trying to freeze. “Hell, he saved my life from that lunatic –”

   “Didn’t he kill that lunatic?” Hermione shot back. “In cold blood?”

   “It was self-defense, and frankly, I can’t blame him,” Ron snapped, jabbing his wand at the glass vigorously. “I mean, he would have killed Harry if he had the chance!”

   Hermione swallowed hard and quickly froze the water in her glass with a quick jab of her wand and a muttered word.

   “How the hell can you do that so easily?” Ron asked with frustration.

   “Forget Charms for a second, we need to talk about Harry –”

   “Is it more of a wave?” Ron muttered, eyeing his glass appraisingly, “or more of a jab? Can you do the motion again –”

   “Ron, forget it!” Hermione said, incensed as she pulled the glass away from Ron and froze its water with another wave. “We need to talk about Harry! If he’s killing people now –”

   “You don’t think Dumbledore knows about it?” Ron asked exasperatedly, snatching back his glass and prodding it with his wand. “If Harry was going to get expelled or punished, it would have already happened by now!”

   “Listen to me, Ronald, if you had any idea what rumors are flying around about Harry right now –”

   “And I already told you that Harry doesn’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks!” Ron retorted. “And I’m with him on this one – why should he care?”

   Hermione looked as if she didn’t even know where to begin. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her voice again and cast a quick glance around the room. Judging by the sounds of shattering glass, Flitwick was likely occupied.

   “Do you get the feeling that Harry’s not the only one hiding things from us this year?”

   Ron snorted. “Hermione, I’ve been hiding my grades from you all year so you don’t have a nervous breakdown at the few ‘D’s I got –”

   “You got a ‘D’?”

   “Don’t sound so bloody scandalized, I’ve been busy!” Ron said with irritation, finally unfreezing the water with a muttered Warming Charm. “Anyways, I haven’t noticed anything that strange, besides, well…”

   “H.A.I.T. getting thrown out and whatever happened to those four Ravenclaw girls,” Hermione finished worriedly. “Not to mention that magical effect that sparked when Harry went missing –”

   “Dumbledore told us not to worry about it,” Ron said tiredly. “He’s investigating it –”

   “That was the day Harry went missing, you know.”

   Ron groaned as he turned back to his glass. “Hermione, we’ve been through this already! Just because Harry went missing the very same day as that magical…‘thing’ happened doesn’t mean they’re connected! Isn’t saying they are some sort of falsery you were lecturing me about on the train –”

   “This is not a fallacy of composition!” Hermione said heatedly. “Harry’s up to something, and he’s not the only one! Either way, something very bad is happening at Hogwarts!”

   Ron was about to snap at Hermione, but then he remembered the dark circles under Malfoy’s eyes… and the sharp words that Snape had given him in the Potions class for no apparent reason…

   “What are you thinking?” he asked cautiously.

   “Oh, don’t be an idiot, Ron!” Hermione said angrily. “Whatever happened to those girls, Harry’s disappearance, that magical light show around Hogwarts, the fact that nobody’s been able to sleep this term –”

   “You honestly don’t think that has anything to do with –”

   “It’s not normal!” Hermione retorted. “And coupled with the fact that Malfoy’s somehow involved –”

   “Keep your voice down,” Ron warned, his eyes darting around the room as he hastily pointed his wand at the glass. “Damn it, why won’t this thing freeze?”

   “You’re enunciating the wrong syllable, but that’s not the point!” Hermione said, grabbing the glass again and shoving it aside. Water splashed all over the table.

   “Thanks a lot,” Ron muttered sarcastically.

   “Aguamenti,” Hermione snapped, pointing her wand at the glass and instantly refilling it with a stream of water from the tip of her wand.

   “That’s a sixth year charm! How do you know –”

   “It doesn’t matter, Ron!” Hermione said irately, grabbing his arm and pulling Ron down to her eye level, her hair getting bushier than ever with her frustration. “We both know Malfoy’s involved in this – I overhead him arguing with Zabini and Nott in the library at lunch.”

   “I thought Malfoy didn’t have the time of day for Zabini or Nott,” Ron said suspiciously. “Granted, I’ve seen him around them more this year, but I figured, considering his usual company –”

   “And you haven’t noticed that Pansy’s avoiding Malfoy like the plague?” Hermione pursued.

   “Last time I checked, I wasn’t monitoring Malfoy’s social status…”

   “Well, Parvati mentioned that he had Nott dump her for him before they came back to school,” Hermione whispered. “Now why on earth would Malfoy do that?”

   “Maybe because he’s an imbecile?”

   “Ron, this isn’t like Malfoy – he’s trying to distance himself from people, even Snape. This isn’t like him, and I think…” Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath before lowering her voice even more. “I think he might have been behind what happened to those Ravenclaw girls.”

   Ron paled for a moment before snorting. “That’s crazy. Malfoy doesn’t have the balls for something like that –”

   “He’d do it if he was under orders,” Hermione whispered grimly, “and you know who would be giving those orders –”

   “You don’t think… not You-Know –”

   “Mr. Weasley, although I’m glad you’re enjoying the companionship and help of Miss Granger, I would ask that you demonstrate the Flash-Freezing Charm,” Professor Flitwick said reprovingly. “Well?”

   Ron swore under his breath and turned away from Hermione. He knew he probably couldn’t cast the charm, but…

   He closed his eyes and pointed his wand firmly at the stubborn glass. Have to keep my voice low…

   “Gelumorsis!”

   The glass shattered, the water frozen into a dark block of ice. All across the table, the spilt water had crystallized, forming icy white lines of frost snaking across the wood. Ron felt the temperature in the room drop slightly before returning to normal.

   Professor Flitwick coughed twice and sighed. “Practice, Mr. Weasley, is important here than power. More control is necessary with your work.”

   Ron could barely restrain a snort and a sigh of relief that Flitwick hadn’t recognized the spell Ron was casting.

  The bell rang, and Ron began piling his books into his bag when he felt Hermione’s tight grip on his arm.

   “That wasn’t the Flash-Freezing Charm,” she said with narrowed eyes.

   “What are you talking about?” Ron retorted.

   “I saw a flash of black leave your wand, Ronald Weasley. What was that spell?”

   Ron scowled. “I told you, Hermione. I’ve been busy.”

   He had just been very careful not specify with what.

*          *          *

   Cassane was silent for a few moments as he looked at a spot on the hardwood floor, lost in thought.

   “So the bloodstains were moving up the walls?” he began slowly.

   “Yeah,” Harry replied, swallowing hard.

   “And Dumbledore confirmed that the protections against spiritual penetration around Hogwarts were intact?” Cassane pursued, his eyes narrowing.

   “Right.”

   “So we’re obviously talking about something internal,” Cassane muttered, getting up and moving towards a precariously stacked heap of books. “And you’re telling me there are Death Eaters in the school?”

   “According to my source, three,” Harry replied, shifting slightly in his seat.

   “And yet four girls were affected, so it rules out that,” Cassane murmured, tossing the top three books in the pile aside without a second glance. “Message was written in blood, you said?”

   “Yes,” Harry replied slowly.

   “Obvious blood magic, and with the clue the girl gave you, it’s obvious,” Cassane muttered, tossing another book aside and pulling open a very battered black journal. Harry was suddenly reminded of Riddle’s diary, and he tensed in his seat, his hand sliding towards his wand.

   “What do you mean, obvious?”

   Cassane let out an exasperated snort as he tossed the small book aside and looked at Harry, his brown eyes flashing. “Stoker, Harry, Stoker. Think about the name for a second. Dumbledore was right on the money when he remembered the man – just not in the way he was thinking.”

   “I thought this Stoker fellow was a Muggle,” Harry said cautiously.

   “And he was, but just because a man is a Muggle doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any knowledge of our world,” Cassane pointed out, giving the electrical instruments a swat with the back of his hand as he returned to his seat. There was an exaggerated casualness in his sprawl, as if what he knew was something casual – and horrifying. “Take Merlin for instance – there’s so many stories about him in the Muggle world, it’s unbelievable – and more often than not, they have a surprising amount of truth. Well, I shouldn’t say that, really – those that do the research often find enough of the truth.”

   “And you’re saying… well, you’re saying that Stoker was involved in that whole thing?” Harry asked with confusion. “That he knew about us?”

   “Not our world, exactly – after all, the Obliviators would have been on him faster than a Firebolt can fly.” Cassane’s expression was a mix of bitterness and disgust as he took a swig from his tumbler. “No, Stoker knew about one element of our world, and not very much at that. ‘Course, it was enough for him to find his little niche in history – both Muggle and our own.”

   Harry felt a chill run down his spine. “What did he know about?”

   Cassane didn’t answer immediately, his fingers sliding up and down the edge of his glass, a deliberating motion, watching the golden whiskey cascade around the edges of the tumbler.

   “Tell me, Harry, what do you know about vampires?”

   Harry sat bolt upright. “There are vampires in Hogwarts? How did they get in? How –”

   “That wasn’t the question I was asking,” Cassane replied sternly. “How much do you know about vampires?”

   “Not… not really a lot, I guess,” Harry replied after a few seconds of thought. “We’ve mostly been focused on goblin and giant wars in History of Magic… I mean, I assume that –”

   “That a lot of the Muggle literature surrounding them is true?” Cassane finished with a snort. “If anything, the Muggles were on the right track, but then went completely in the wrong direction. Vampires aren’t the masters of sex and magic that they’re often made out to be – nah, our world has marginalized them far too much for that. Witches and wizards are damn good at driving away those who could be a threat to them, and vampires are just one more example. Of course, they had a damn good reason for doing so.”

   Harry thought back to the few anti-vampire lessons he had had, first with Quirrell and then with Lupin. “They have a lot of weaknesses, though. Garlic, mirrors, sunlight –”

   “And that’s the funny thing,” Cassane mused, setting aside his glass. “They have all those weaknesses, and yet they’re still considered too dangerous. So we drove them into the isolated corners of Britain, or clear onto the continent, where most of them fled east, where they joined with the survivors of Grindelwald’s army.” A twisted smile crossed onto Cassane’s face. “Of course, they regretted it when the Iron Curtain came down.”

   “Iron Curtain?”

   “When the border between the East and the West solidified, beginning the Cold War,” Cassane said impatiently. “It wasn’t just for the Muggles, you know. I mean, we had our own internal problems, but there was still serious animosity between us and the Soviets. Not easy to explain the details, but basically, the vampires got a rude shock when confronting the Red Army. They like playing the aristocrat, and too few of them were prepared for the onslaught of the proletariat.”

   “I’m sorry, what?”

   Cassane chuckled. “It’s not important, Harry. The point is, the vampires were decimated pretty handily, at least those that went east. Believe me, I went to Transylvania in the early seventies, looking to find the rumored fortresses, and that was one hell of an adventure.”

   “As much as I’d like to hear about that, what does any of this have to do with Hogwarts or that Stoker fellow?” Harry asked tersely.

   Cassane leaned forward, his eyes suddenly gleaming with intensity. “Listen closely, Harry, and listen well. Stoker also travelled to Transylvania, doing some background research, and nobody knows what he really found there, but when he returned, he wrote a book: Dracula.”

   “So… so you’re saying Dracula is real?” Harry asked incredulously. “Just like Merlin and the rest?”

   “Well, nobody really knows for sure, now, do they?” Cassane said, raising a finger. “Nobody really knows if he met vampires or not in those Merlin-forsaken mountains, but I suspect he did. When it comes down to it, nobody really knows whether the great vampire lord Dracula really existed or not. Personally, I don’t think so.”

   “Why?”

   “Because it makes much more sense for ‘Dracula’ to be a concoction of a group of vampires looking to raise their social status with the Muggle world,” Cassane replied with a shrug. “Remember, they were marginalized by us, and they wanted to reclaim their power, so their supplies of fresh blood wouldn’t run dry. What better way to regain popularity than through a figurehead like the great vampire lord Dracula?” The older man chuckled as he took a swig from his glass. “Mind you, they had already tried that tactic in our world in the early nineteenth century – one of the reasons that they were exiled.”

   “But why would they even be popular?” Harry asked, mystified. “I mean, they suck blood!”

   Cassane smirked. “Harry, it’s the sex appeal, and it worked nearly two hundred years ago just as well as it works now. Of course, anyone who’s ever met a vampire knows the truth – and I’ve met a few – that they’re craven, grasping, avaricious little scavengers that prey upon those too stupid to figure out what hell they’re dropping into. I don’t think there’s any coincidence that they can take the form of a flying rat.”

   “I’m getting confused here,” Harry said as Cassane refilled his glass. “Are you saying that you don’t think vampires are involved?”

   “I know that Dumbledore won’t let any young vampires into Hogwarts,” Cassane said, rising to his feet and moving towards the window. “Even Dumbledore, the great protector of the rights of other magical species, knows that admitting vampires into Hogwarts would be paramount to the destruction of his school. But that doesn’t mean that vampires couldn’t have been involved in this.”

  Harry frowned. “Okay, now I’m really getting confused.”

  “Come with me to the library, and I’ll show you.”

   Harry followed Cassane into a room that could have come right out of Hogwarts. His eyes widened as he saw the high shelves, reaching up to an ivy-covered stone dome. The room was filled with wooden book shelves, separated by high, arched windows and polished marble columns. The room seemed almost too massive to be included inside the house, and Harry felt disoriented as he followed Cassane towards a bookshelf at the back of the room.

   “Are these all of yours?”

   Cassane laughed. “Well, you could say that, but I don’t believe I legally own half of these.”

   “Then who does?”

   Cassane scratched his chin. “Libraries across the world, several prominent government institutions, a couple wizarding schools, and probably more than my fair share of rich and very dead individuals.”

   “You stole those?”

   “Remember Harry, it’s not theft, it’s archaeology,” Cassane said with a knowing wink. “Let’s see here… ah, here’s what I was looking for. Originally in the possession of one of the few vampires out east that has any power whatsoever, I borrowed it when I was ‘visiting’ his manor.”

   “‘Borrowed’?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. “Just ‘visiting’?”

   Cassane gave Harry a very frank look. “It was the early seventies, Harry. If you had been alive then, you’d understand.”

   Harry looked at the book, still firmly lodged in the shelf, and froze. Beneath the cover, he could hear a faint rustling, and he could see the flicker of metal…

   “That’s a blood magic book.”

   “What do you think vampires specialize in?” Cassane said, his voice still light as he drew his wand and magically pulled the tome from the wood. The blades were visible now, and Harry noticed that all of them were serrated and looked extremely sharp.

   “Wait a minute – so you’re suggesting that those girls used some sort of blood magic?”

   “It would be easy enough to explain,” Cassane said calmly, levitating the book onto a nearby table and flipping it open with a quick swish of his wand. “You have to realize one key thing about vampires, Harry, and that is that they are cunning. They can read people very well – allows them to prey upon the weak very easily. So when they tried to assume greater power back in the early nineteenth century, they simply released a few volumes filled with blood magic, with promises that it would fulfill all of one’s desires, be it sex, money, or immortality.”

   Harry swallowed hard. “They really couldn’t do that, could they?”

   “Well, they liked to think that they could,” Cassane said with another twisted smile, “and too many young and very stupid people fell right into that trap. Most of the blood magic had a singular purpose – to bind and control those idiots to the whims of the vampires. Most of them didn’t survive. If anything, that ritual you described at Hogwarts sounds a lot like that.”

   “But… but why?” Harry asked, his mind still wrestling over the startling facts Cassane had given him. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

   Cassane paused, and Harry could swear he saw a hint of a smile cross the older man’s face. “Go on.”

   “The girls were Ravenclaws, and they would be smarter than to attempt a ritual like that without full knowledge of what they were doing!” Harry exclaimed. “I knew one of those girls, and she wouldn’t try something like that, it doesn’t make sense! And if you’re right, that sort of magic wouldn’t drive the girls insane – why would the vampires want slaves who have lost their minds? And besides, if Dumbledore’s magic is correct, it said that while the girls drew their own blood, the stains on the walls were caused by a different person, but –”

   “They were both caused by the same entity,” Cassane finished, his hands coming together with a slow, deliberate clap. “Well done, Harry, you’ve learned how to think, something that seems to be omitted from the Hogwarts curriculum – and you don’t need my help after all.”

   “You told me all that, I wouldn’t have been able to figure it out on my own –”

   “I gave you the background, Mr. Potter, nothing more,” Cassane said with another smirk as he closed the book with a wave of his wand. “So, reason through the problem.”

   Harry frowned. “Could the girls be vampires themselves… no, wait, that wouldn’t work, someone would have caught onto it by now… and Dumbledore ruled out external possession, by Voldemort –”

   “Of course he did,” Cassane murmured, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

   “Pardon?”

   “It’s not important. Go on, let’s see what you’re thinking.”

   “The only thing I can really think of is the Imperius Curse,” Harry whispered. “Someone placed the curse on them to control them, manipulate them into doing that sick ritual… that way, the same entity would have both drawn the blood and made the bloodstains and they would have remained separate… from a certain point of view.”

   “And the insanity?” Cassane said after a few seconds.

   “Last year, we learned a badly cast Imperius Curse could addle the brains of the victim,” Harry said, swallowing hard. “Something could have gone wrong… or the ritual interacted with them in some way.”

   “Interesting hypothesis,” Cassane said after a few seconds, drumming his fingers along the table, perilously close to the blades protruding from the book. “I can spot a few holes in it, though.”

   “Really?”

   Cassane raised a finger. “One: the Imperius Curse requires a considerable amount of effort to sustain, and thus I doubt any Death Eaters at Hogwarts would be able to sustain it for more than one person at a time. If I recall, even Voldemort himself had difficulty with that.

   “Secondly, while the Imperius Curse might cause some to temporarily lose their wits, it’s a temporary effect. What you have described in those poor girls is far from temporary.”

   “We don’t know that,” Harry retorted. “They could recover!”

   Cassane paused, and for a second, Harry could see a wave of pain cross the man’s face. “Of… of course they could,” he said, his voice so soft it could barely be heard. He shook his head. “Merlin….”

   “You said there was three things,” Harry said after a few seconds.

   “Right!” Cassane said, his expression suddenly becoming intense again as he raised his third finger. “Thirdly, and finally, the Imperius Curse can be fought, and given those girls are Ravenclaws, they would likely have some degree of understanding of the ritual before it was begun. After all, they’d have to read the bloody thing. And it is very rare that one’s Imperius Curse is strong enough to drive another to kill himself.”

   Harry swore under his breath – Cassane was right. There were holes – huge ones – in his logic. At least I’m getting closer…

   He froze, and he felt his air leaving his lungs in a long, protracted gasp.

   “You remembered something, didn’t you?” Cassane said softly, his eyes lighting up. “The missing link – speak, Harry, speak!”

   “The book…” Harry whispered, looking down at the quivering tome upon the table. “There was no book in that room – and you said the ritual had to be read.”

   “Just because you didn’t see the book doesn’t mean the book wasn’t there at some time!” Cassane said, gripping Harry’s shoulder and shaking him. “Think, Harry! Who would have taken the book… if the book was even there at all at that time!”

   Harry closed his eyes and tried to think as Cassane stepped away. If the book was there at all at that time… Peeves said there was three Death Eaters… but Peeves could not have taken the book, because that would have disrupted the magic, because the girls were still bleeding out when we arrived… and Tonks and I would have seen it if it were there when we were… but that doesn’t mean the book couldn’t have been there at some other time…

   Some other time….

   A time before…

   Harry’s eyes snapped wide open. “I… I…”

   Cassane leaned against the bookshelf and ran his hand along the aged, cracking wood. “Harry,” he began conversationally, “who told you there were three Death Eaters at Hogwarts?”

   “Peeves,” Harry said, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop himself. “The poltergeist.”

   “Not a ghost, perhaps, but something that lived before,” Cassane said, finally meeting Harry’s eyes. “Events tend to repeat themselves, Harry. Remember what I said: those who forget the past…”

   “Are doomed… to repeat it,” Harry finished.

*          *          *

   “He’s late.”

   Lucius Malfoy shifted awkwardly in his seat, trying to ignore the excruciating pain he felt whenever he moved his legs or hips. “I… I’m sure he has a reason for not arriving yet, my Lord – and given his location, it proves a bit more difficult –”

   “The Mark burned nearly an hour ago, and he has still not arrived,” Lord Voldemort hissed. “If, indeed, he is going to arrive at all –”

   The flames of the nearly grate burned green, and Malfoy struggled to his feet as a dark-robed figure tumbled out of the fireplace – nowhere near as ostentatious at the other connected fireplaces in the manor, but he did not want to take any chances.

   “You,” Voldemort began dangerously, “are not Severus Snape.”

   The figure straightened and threw back his hood, revealing scarred features. “My lord, Snape’s not going to be meeting you any time soon.”

   “Where is he?” Voldemort growled, and some colour fled the Auror’s face.

   “Well, currently he’s laid up in an Auror infirmary with a shattered jaw and pelvis, a fractured skull, a broken nose, and a severe concussion,” Wilson replied with a shrug. “The Hit Wizards are monitoring the Hogwarts Floo connections, and his wand was drawn when he came out. He’s lucky to be alive.”

   “Snape is very good at surviving,” Malfoy muttered. “No Hit Wizard is going to bring him down –”

   “All the same, his absence limits the amount of Polyjuice Potion I can use – and with him in custody, it makes acquiring Veritaserum much more difficult,” Voldemort hissed, his eyes burning with anger. “I’m assuming you managed to appropriate the vials on his person?”

   “Shattered and lost, or boiled away to insignificance,” Wilson replied tersely. “Nothing could be recovered –”

   “No matter.” The Dark Lord turned towards a small trunk tucked away in the corner of the room and flicked his wand at it. A moment later, a tiny vial zoomed into Voldemort’s open hand. “Lord Voldemort always has a backup plan…”

   “My Lord, that amount may only sustain the transformation for a short –”

   “I am not a fool, Lucius,” Voldemort said coolly, pulling an extremely tiny flask from his dark robes and emptying its contents into the vial with a single smooth motion. “Fortunately, the protections surrounding his home will be easy enough to defeat, so this will not require much time.”

   “Convincing a man like him will take longer than –”

   Voldemort paused for a moment and turned back, fixing Malfoy with a disgusted look as he raised the vial to his lipless mouth. “I remember the first war, even if you do not, Malfoy. Cassane will not be convinced… so he will die.”

*          *          *

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense, but there’s never been any evidence that there are evil spirits at Hogwarts!” Harry said, frustration filling his voice as he paced around the table.

   “I wasn’t the one who came to the conclusion, Harry,” Cassane replied with a shrug. “Although the evidence that you’ve collected seems to fit.”

   “But why would they let ghosts that could hurt someone into Hogwarts?” Harry said, running a hand through his hair, not meeting Cassan’e eyes. “Dumbledore would never allow it –”

   “You’re right,” Cassane said abruptly, “under no circumstances would he ever allow something like that. But there have been ghosts that have visited Hogwarts before, correct?”

   “Well, Nearly Headless Nick had a Deathday Party in my second year, but I didn’t think any of those ghosts were bad… well, except Peeves, but he was never this much of a problem before!”

   “Who says he’s a problem now?” Cassane challenged. “If anything, that damned poltergeist has pointed you to every single poignant clue you’ve discovered – I wouldn’t be so quick to excise him from your thinking.”

   “Okay, fine, but that still doesn’t mean there are genuinely bad spirits at Hogwarts!” Harry said, furiously racking his brain for any ghost that could have possessed the four Ravenclaw girls. “I mean, the Bloody Baron might be the closest –”

   “His story is more tragic than malevolent, I’d say,” Cassane said, levitating the blood magic book back into its spot on the shelves. “But once again, just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

   “But no Headmaster or Headmistress would allow ghosts like that into Hogwarts – I mean, they’d get rid of them or something –”

   “While you can expel a spirit from a dwelling, it remains exceedingly difficult, depending upon the attachment the ghost has to the location,” Cassane said carefully. “Often times it requires a great deal of specialized magic and equipment – not to mention a great deal of gold. The Department of Mysteries does a great deal of work on the subject, and even they have enormous difficulties. One of the main reasons why Headmasters have balked over getting rid of Peeves in the past, as a matter of fact – they cannot justify the removal, or rather, the money it would cost to remove a poltergeist that is ultimately insignificant.”

   “So you’re saying that if this happens again –”

   “It will,” Cassane said darkly.

   “There’ll be nothing we can do to stop it?” Harry’s eyes went wide. “We could lose Hogwarts?”

   “I did not say that,” Cassane replied, crossing his arms over his chest, a tiny hint of a grin on his face. “There are brands of magic that deal with possession, and its removal. It just doesn’t help that the magic is complex, dangerous, and almost certainly illegal.”

   “Why would it be illegal?”

   “Because there are a lot of politicians with a grudge against the Church that killed a load of their forefathers hundreds of years ago,” Cassane replied conversationally, shaking his head with an incredulous motion, as if he couldn’t believe their stupidity. “And since the Church has been dealing with exorcism since, well, before the Church was a church, it’s often considered their territory and thus Dark. I doubt there’s a book on it in the Hogwarts library.”

   “I’ve never heard that before… wait, you’re saying that the Church has magic?”

   Cassane laughed. “Of course not, Harry! Well, I shouldn’t say that, per say – there a few wizards within the Church, after all – but faith’s an entire different dragon compared to magic. Hasn’t stopped the magic of exorcism from being demonized, though – although there are a few things involved in it that would make one pause and reconsider.” Cassane laughed again, although this time, the sound was short and bitter. “After all, meddling with another person’s mind, trying to wade through a sea of memories and thoughts to find the lurking monster within… well, it’s certainly not for the faint of heart.”

   Despite himself, Harry shivered as he remembered Su’s long, agonized scream in the Hospital Wing, the madness in her face. And she wasn’t even possessed then…at least I don’t think she was…

   “And, of course, once you get the ghost out, you have to be able to banish it immediately,” Cassane added nonchalantly. “Otherwise someone else could be at risk – or the angry spirit could try to possess you. That’s when Occlumency comes in handy.”

   “I’m sorry, what?”

  Cassane rolled his eyes. “It’s basically a magical method of mental defense against attacks. Not incredibly useful in my opinion, unless you’re a spy and up against someone who is skilled at Legilimency – reading minds,” he clarified. “Nasty business – both learning it and defending yourself, and frankly, if you’re skilled enough with a wand and have a strong enough Blasting Curse, you’ll never have need of it.”

   And if I’m in one of my simulacrums, I don’t think they could read my mind anyways, Harry thought, a small grin growing on his face. At least that was what Tonks said…

   “So you can banish ghosts?” he asked, following Cassane as he followed the older man back into the drawing room, where the electrical equipment in the corner sparked a sizzling greeting. “How? With what?”

   “Spells, mostly,” Cassane replied distractedly, his eyes scanning another pile of books strewn across the floor. “Most, if not all, you could find in the Hogwarts library with a decent search. Best of all, I would doubt that the majority of them – the dirty, common-as-muck variety – would be in the Restricted Section, so they should be easy for you to find.”

   “Not like it’s stopped me before,” Harry muttered. To his huge surprise, Cassane shot him a wink before turning back to the book pile and beginning to rummage through the heap.

   “In any case, the trick will be figuring out the pattern of where these ghosts are coming from, and shutting it down for good,” Cassane finished, pulling a surprisingly brightly coloured book from the bottom of the pile and tossing it to Harry. “That should help.”

   Harry quickly caught the book, and his eyebrows nearly shot into his hair. Not only was it a Muggle book, decorated in flamboyant yellow and black, the title was…

   “No, I am not kidding you,” Cassane answered Harry’s unspoken question. “Logical Thinking for the Clueless. Picked it up in New Zealand about eight years ago out of general boredom and a lack of good archaeological hunts in the region. Damn good book, surprisingly – I heartily recommend it to any new graduate of Hogwarts and any old warlock who likes to lecture about literature in the Leaky Cauldron.” He smiled wistfully. “And you’d be surprised how quickly it shuts them up.”

   “‘The best ways to recognize patterns and deduce conclusions, using proven methods’?” Harry read with growing bewilderment.

   “Yep,” Cassane replied with a smile, sitting back in his armchair and seemingly creating a footrest out of midair with a wave of his wand. “Take it with you, give it a read – it can’t hurt you, Mr. Potter.”

   “But what about the exorcism spells?” Harry asked after a few seconds, looking up as Cassane poured himself another generous helping of whiskey. “Do you know any of them?”

   “Any person who has broken into enough tombs and ‘sacred places’ knows enough to get by,” Cassane replied carefully. “And I have travelled extensively.”

   “Would you be willing to teach me?” Harry asked eagerly.

   Cassane considered this for a long few seconds, before shaking his head. “No, thank you.”

   “If you taught me, though… I mean, we could probably solve this in no time at all!” Harry exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “You could come to Hogwarts –”

   “No.”

   “- And see the evidence for yourself –”

   “I’m looking for beauty, not nightmares, Harry.”

   “ – And we could probably solve this problem faster than just me and Dumbledore working on it alone –”

   “I said no!” Cassane snapped, his eyes suddenly hard, his tone fierce.

   Harry struggled for words, his incomprehension plain on his face.

   “But… well, why not?”

   “There’s a history between me and Dumbledore,” Cassane replied curtly. “An uncomfortable history, stemming back to the First War. With Moody as well. Even with your parents to some degree… your father and Sirius Black more than anyone.” The older wizard set his glass down, and did not meet Harry’s eyes. “No, I’m not going back to Hogwarts.”

   “You… you won’t help me?” Harry could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth.

   Cassane fixed Harry with a very clear gaze, his eyes hard as mirrors now. “Listen, Harry, before you were born, I fought in the First War, and I did a lot of things… well, a lot of things I’d rather not remember. I was part of the group that was fighting Voldemort with fire and whatever other hell we could dredge up, and by the end of it, I had had enough. I spent years, Harry, years wandering the world, looking for something of beauty that could erase the flaming memories, something so I would not have to close my eyes and see them screaming…”

   His voice trailed off for a moment, and for a moment, Harry felt a rush of fear. What had Cassane done, to make recoil like this?

   “In any case, I’m content with my life… well, most of it anyways,” Cassane continued. “So I pose to you this question: why should I involve myself in a war that I no longer have any stake in?”

   “But… but you do have a stake in it!” Harry exclaimed. “I mean, you’re the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards!”

   “A position I would renounce in a heartbeat in favour of Dumbledore,” Cassane countered. “It’s not a job I want by any stretch of the mind, you know that! And as soon as Voldemort makes his presence known – which he will, eventually – the Ministry will be forced to reconcile with Dumbledore and he’ll get his job back, leaving me to return to my regular life, minus politics, legalities, and those damned luncheons.”

   “Luncheons?”

   “Even the Dark Lord Voldemort himself would cringe at those accursed things,” Cassane said with a visible shudder. “I don’t understand how Dumbledore does it – apparently he even likes the damned things…”

   “We’re not talking about luncheons here!” Harry said angrily. “Look, you wouldn’t have to interact with Dumbledore or Moody or Snape or anyone over at Hogwarts! You could act as an… as an…”

   “Consultant?”

   “That word works as good as any!”

   “And at this point in time, if I did that, we would have civil war in England,” Cassane said crisply, folding his arms across his chest. “Think for a moment, Harry, if I was seen at Hogwarts – even my presence would be indicative that I’m supporting Dumbledore, and as soon as that information reaches the Ministry, Fudge would have no qualms at publically disgracing me and declaring war upon Hogwarts. And you don’t realize, Harry, how close he is to doing that right now.”

   “So what are you, ‘neutral’?”
   “I would prefer to say that I have no place in the conflict,” Cassane said reasonably. “And I would prefer it remained that way.”

   “People will die if you don’t help us,” Harry said, very real desperation creeping into his voice. “I’m not asking you to fight Voldemort here –”

   “But that is what is going to end up happening,” Cassane finished with a disappointed shake of his head. “I’m not an idiot, Harry. And people will die regardless of whether I participate or not – all that will change is whether or not the blood is on my hands.”

   “Which it will be if you don’t help us!” Harry said angrily. “Look, when Voldemort comes back into the open, are you going to fight on our side?”

   “Let me check my planner…” Cassane looked skywards for a second before looking back at Harry. “No, I don’t think so.”

   “Who are you going to support, then? Voldemort?”

   “Once again, Harry, this isn’t my war,” Cassane said, a very real edge in his voice now. “I had my war, thank you very much, and I’m not eager for second helpings.”

   “You’re one of the most powerful wizards in Britain!” Harry exclaimed, nearly rising to his feet as he struggled to contain his frustration. “I mean, you’re one of the few wizards that could actually be worth a damn in a fight against the Death Eaters! Don’t you have a responsibility to help us, bring some good into the world?”

   “Getting better, but a flawed argument, Harry,” Cassane replied, toasting Harry with a raise of his whiskey tumbler before downing his drink in a single gulp. “Just because a man has power does not mean he must use it to help others. If anything, a man with said power should exercise discretion, only using his power when he feels it necessary. And who is to say that Voldemort will not bring good into the world?”

   “Oh come on, it’s Voldemort we’re talking about here!” Harry snarled.

   “A self-obsessed, albeit powerful man who has a vision of utopia just as jaded as every other thinker in our fine world,” Cassane said, refilling his glass with a shake of his head. “And he’ll never be able to touch me.”

  “I find that hard to believe!”

   “Why?” Cassane countered. “Harry, this world has billions of people, and with the tools at my disposal, if I didn’t want to be found, I wouldn’t be.”

   “Then why did you come back to take the Supreme Mugwump position?” Harry retorted. “If you hate the job so much, why did you take it in the first place, put yourself in a position to be found?”

   “A last favour to Dumbledore,” Cassane replied simply. “A single favour, nothing more, nothing less.”

   Harry struggled for words. He needed Cassane’s help – even if he could figure out what was happening at Hogwarts, he wouldn’t be able to stop more attacks from happening – not on his own. And he knew that with Fudge on the move, time was running out all too quickly.

   “Look, think of it this way,” he finally began, searching his mind for ideas. “Let’s say that you hide, and Voldemort wins in the end. You know you’ll never have a home here again?”

   “Very true,” Cassane replied somberly. “Unfortunately, if I choose to support Dumbledore, I wholeheartedly expect to lose my home as well… not to mention so much more.”

   “Still, you would stand to gain more from Voldemort losing than from him winning.”

   Cassane smirked. “Ah, you’re attempting to play the lawyer now, Harry? You keep forgetting that I fought in the First War. I saw what was happening to Dumbledore’s followers in the Order of the Phoenix – don’t act so surprised, I knew many of them. I saw what they lost – what I lost –in the fire.” The haunted look reappeared on Cassane’s face. “And any victory won with that cost is no victory at all. It would be better for me to leave and never set eyes upon the fair shores of England again than to lose what I lost before all over again.”

  Harry swallowed hard. For a second, he contemplated asking what Cassane had lost besides his family, but then he closed his eyes. The less I know about that the better… at least for now…

   “You know,” Cassane said suddenly, “I’d offer for you to come with me.”

   Harry’s eyes snapped wide open. “What?”

   “You could leave, you know,” Cassane said with a shrug. “The world is only a Portkey away, Harry Potter.”

   “I have friends here!”

   “Then bring them over and we’ll take them with us,” Cassane said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Win-win, I’d say.”

   “I still have things to do here… and I have to be the one to kill Voldemort in the end,” Harry said after a few long seconds of silence. “There… there was a proph- ”

   Cassane burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re kidding me!”

   “It’s true!” Harry exclaimed, going scarlet. “I have to kill him before he –”

   “Kills you?” Cassane interrupted, choking back more laughter. “You actually believe that load of bullshit?”

   “I don’t really have much of a choice now, do I?” Harry snapped. “And now Voldemort knows about it too –”

   “Harry, prophecies only have so much power as we give them,” Cassane said with exasperation, downing his next drink with another chuckle. “Otherwise they’re just words. Bad poetry that might have a hint of being right, if we choose to believe.”

   “And Voldemort’s choosing to believe,” Harry snarled, not willing to give up now. “He’s going to keep trying to kill me until I kill him – and once he’s done with me, he’ll be coming for you too! He’s the strongest Dark Lord in centuries – do you honestly think you can hide from him? Do you think you’ll have any of that freedom that you love so much? He’ll never stop hunting you, once he’s done with Dumbledore and me.”

   “Presuming he can beat Dumbledore –”

   “According to the thrice-damned prophecy, I’m the only one who can beat him!” Harry replied hotly. “And you know that as things are, I can’t beat him alone! But if I actually have help, from someone like you, I could have a fair shot at it!”

   “Perhaps,” Cassane admitted after a long pause. “No guarantees, though. Everything could be for naught, and then I will undoubtedly lose everything. You’re asking me to gamble against very long odds, Harry.”

   “What do you think I’m doing?” Harry retorted. “The game I’m playing, you have to risk it all to gain anything – and it’s not like I volunteered for this –”

   CRACK.

   Harry nearly jumped in his seat as a sudden acrid stench filled the room. Cassane was on his feet, and his wand was pointing at the electrical equipment, which was suddenly smoking and flickering with tiny flashes of electricity…

   “That shouldn’t have happened,” Cassane said in a low voice, his gaze zooming towards the window. “Something’s happening.”

   Harry got up and drew his own wand, his eyes nervously scanning the room. “Could it be one of your artifacts acting up –”

   “No,” Cassane said flatly, his eyes moving towards the window. He stepped closer to it, knocking over a few stacks of papers as he peered through the glass.

   He sighed, and closed his eyes for a long five seconds.

   His gaze turned back to Harry.

   “You should never have come here, Harry. It appears that… I’m involved already.”

   “What?” Harry asked, moving up to the window and peering out at the lawn, where the path meandered between the trees…

   Five cloaked figures were walking up the path, masks and hoods pulled over their faces. All of them had wands drawn.

   The person in front didn’t have a hood or a mask – just a face, which was somehow more horrific. Harry’s heart began pounding within his chest. No… not now… not again…

   “Before I died, I wanted to look in Sirius Black’s eyes and ask him why he betrayed his closest friend,” Cassane said softly.
   He turned to Harry and smiled a mirthless smile. “Looks like I’ll finally get that chance.”