Changing Scenery.
“What’s the matter, now?” Ron asked.
He had found Harry in the drawing room, with a large, battered cardboard box sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He was peering into its depths and making a tutting sound. Ron was losing patience with Harry’s constant grumbling about not getting anywhere. The trip to Kent yesterday had been a complete waste of time. Ravenclaw’s supposed book had been a not-very-clever forgery and they had seen immediately it looked ridiculously youthful, covered in a modern binding with fake gold tooling.
“All this stuff, this Black stuff,” Harry began, twirling a silver bangle around in his hands with impatience, “really needs chucking out. I don’t want it and I doubt Sirius would want me to have it either. Most of it’s hideous anyway.” He dropped the bangle and picked up an ashtray in the shape of a dragon’s jaw, holding it up for Ron to examine. “I mean, what is that all about?” he said with a grimace.
“Get Mundungus to get rid of it for you. He’s bound to know some dodgy characters that’ll get you a decent price,” Ron suggested, his mind seeing value in the tat that filled the box. “I thought all of this had gone. Didn’t we clear a load of stuff out when Sirius… a few years ago?”
“It was Kreacher, wasn’t it? He hid tons of stuff everywhere. He must’ve got at the bin bags before they were got rid of. I can’t sell it,” Harry said. “And I’m not letting Mundungus anywhere near it. There’s no way he’s going to profit from Sirius not being here to take care of his family’s things.” He dropped a hand into the box and pulled out an onyx statue of a serpent coiled around a naked woman.
“Yeuch!” Ron said in disgust. “That’s horrible. Who’d have that on their mantlepiece?”
“The Blacks,” Harry replied darkly. “This should all just go into the attic out of the way. I wouldn’t feel right binning it without Sirius here.”
“I’ll hand it up to you, if you want,” Ron offered, walking across and bending to look in the box. He scrabbled around for a few minutes, picking through ornaments and trinkets until he finally pulled at a silver chain.
“Wonder what’s on the end of this?” he mused as the chain snagged on something in the box.
“Just leave it,” Harry said. “It’ll be high-class junk; the sort of stuff that Lucius Malfoy would probably put in his grand house.”
“Or round his wife’s grand, scrawny neck,” Ron laughed, finally freeing the item from its trap. It flew upwards, glinting in the sunlight that fell in shafts through the dust-laden window, and fell in a small heap by the fireplace. Ron followed it and picked it up with a strange look on his face.
“Harry?”
“What?” Harry stood up from the sofa and prepared to pack the things away.
“I think I’ve found it.”
“Found what?” Harry looked casually at Ron as he crossed the room in just a few paces.
“Slytherin’s locket.”
Harry looked at the necklace that sat in Ron’s hand and then snatched it up quickly, a look of hope on his face. “Bloody hell, Ron, you might be right. I remember this. We tried to open it before and it wouldn’t budge. We couldn’t have imagined at the time that it was, could be… Well, important.”
They both fell silent, looking at the locket with puzzlement. Now that Harry thought he knew what it was he could almost feel waves of darkness exuding from it. He had no idea how he was going to get it open considering that they had all tried during his fifth year at Hogwarts.
“You know what you should do,” Ron suggested. “You should take it up to Hogwarts and get one of the professors to have a look at it. They might be able to suggest something.”
“I can’t let one of the professors at it,” Harry replied with a dismissive snort. “I can’t have a professor opening a Horcrux.” He turned it over and over, tracing a thin crack that ran up the back of it with his thumbnail.
“You don’t even know that it is a Horcrux,” Ron pointed out with a doubtful smile. “But think about what Professor Lupin said yesterday. Not only would you be able to get help at Hogwarts, you’d be safe.”
“I don’t need to be safe,” Harry growled. “I’m perfectly safe here.”
“Yeah, but think about if for a few minutes. You could get help with the locket, you could still sit your N.E.W.T.s, which would mean you could still become an Auror and I know mum would be pleased to see me sit mine after what Fred and George did…”
“You can go back,” Harry said, annoyed at the implication that Ron was sacrificing his education to be with Harry. “I never asked you to give up school.”
“I know you didn’t, Harry.” Ron shrugged. “All I’m saying is give it some thought. Professor Lupin thought he knew a bloody good reason for you to go back to school and maybe you could kill two birds with one stone if you go back.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” Harry asked. “Just walk up the drive and say, ‘Good morning, Professor McGonagall, I’d like to come back’?”
Ron nodded. “Why not?”
“Because it would be embarrassing, that’s why not. Not even Malfoy is at school now. And how could I track down Nagini while I was still at Hogwarts?”
“No one even knows where Malfoy is. And anyway, it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been embarrassed. Plus, Nagini is probably the least of your worries at the moment. Getting into this locket would be the first thing on the list, if I were you at any rate. And if you need help finding the other Horcrux you could always use Maeve to help you. Maybe she would come and stay here while you were back at school.”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking down at the locket. “Going back would seem like a defeat. Without Dumbledore there it wouldn’t the same. But I suppose if Remus did know something… How can I go back?” Harry looked at Ron desperately. “It would go against everything I have pledged to do. I promised Dumbledore I would stop Voldemort.”
“Dumbledore would have wanted you to carry on with your education, Harry. Maybe he didn’t mean for you to rush off like this. Maybe he expected you to stay at Hogwarts and work from there.”
“How can you know what Dumbledore meant?” Harry asked bitterly.
“How can you?” Ron said. “You don’t know everything, Harry. And if I’m honest, mate, the way you spoke to Professor Lupin was a bit out of order. I reckon he really knows something.”
“I can’t go back,” Harry insisted.
“You can.” Ron turned towards the door. “And I think you should.”
“I dunno. You just want to go back because of Hermione. You can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Just let me know when you want to start packing,” Ron said hopefully, his mind now drifting pleasantly to thoughts of Hermione.
Harry dropped the locket into his pocket and seemed to give it some thought before shaking his head. “I just don’t know.”
Ron closed the door quietly behind him as he left Harry to mull over what he had just said.
Maeve’s head rested comfortably against Severus’ chest. She was awake but unwilling to open her eyes and face the decisions that the day would force her to make. Her head rose and fell slightly with the rhythm of his breathing and she smiled in fleeting contentment. Looking up, she wished she could rub away the tightness on his face, tightness acquired from so many years of suppressing his beliefs and opinions from one master or the other.
Dawn had crept up on them, its light touch a treacherous reminder that their night was at an end. Pressing her lips to his skin, she kissed him softly and smiled as he shifted towards her, his left arm moving to rest across her shoulder. As if he could feel the tenderness of her thoughts he opened his eyes and they glinted down at her.
“Have you been awake long?” he asked, enjoying the heaviness of her against his body.
“No, just a few minutes. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Well, pleasant though this is, we need to think about moving, before the Ministry pay you a visit.” He pulled himself up, forcing her to forgo her human pillow and sit up too.
“Where will we go?” Maeve looked to him for guidance, her earlier bravado dissolving into uncertainty.
“Now you choose to think about the practicalities. It would have been better had you thought of them before leaving the safety of Hogwarts.” He sighed as he took a mass of red hair into his hand and coiled it around his fist. “You will need to prepare yourself for some hardship. It is not easy concealing oneself from over-eager Hit-Wizards and Aurors. It would be marginally easier if I did not have to hide you from the Dark Lord also.”
Her lashes hid her worry from him as she felt the insistent tug of his fingers through her hair.
“But you will know of places,” she said, trailing lazy fingernails across the line of his shoulder blades and up to his hairline. “Even if we have to sleep in caves, you will know of places.”
“I will never sleep in a cave like some mongrel with only rats for company,” he hissed, throwing back the bedclothes and preparing to leave the warmth of their dishevelled sheets. “We will survive on better pickings than that.”
“Stay a little longer,” she said, endearing hands slipping over his chest.
“Out you get,” he insisted. “If you wish to become my cohort then enough of this laziness. We need to leave in the next half an hour.” And before she could protest or hold him back he had slithered from her grasp and was crossing the room, unashamedly naked, to pick up his clothes.
“You do have a lovely arse,” she said, with a silky laugh, allowing her childish side free rein for a moment. He responded by throwing her clothes across the room so that they landed in a muddle at the bottom of the messy bed.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We leave as soon as possible.”
“Spoilsport.” But the words were filled with love and not meant to be chiding. “I suppose we had better check on Narcissa.”
Severus sucked in his breath at the mention of the spoiled witch who was occupying their sitting room. “You may check on her. I have better things to do. Cursing myself into oblivion, for instance, would be preferable to paying her any heed. I shall be out of the bathroom in five minutes, unless you would prefer to go first.”
“No, no… Go ahead. I’ll make some coffee.” She threw her bathrobe around her shoulders and padded from the room, alarmed at the easy way they had slipped into domesticity when they were about to embark on something so dangerous they could end up in the hands of the Ministry or, worse still, Voldemort.
When her feet reached the cold stone at the foot of the stairs she paused and looked at the now closed door of the sitting room. Roderick’s rich russet cloak hung by the door and she knew he must still be in the house. Although tempted to peek into the sitting room, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to see what lay beyond it so she turned her back on Narcissa and Roderick and went to boil some water.
Looking out of the back window gave her a view of a world so at peace with itself it was hard to appreciate the murk that was slowly engulfing the neighbouring island. How long would it be before Voldemort turned his serious and malicious intentions towards Ireland? And if – when – he did, how much further would he go? Were there really that many people that gave credence to his way of thinking? She already knew that the answer to that was yes. Maeve absent-mindedly set the pot to boil and spooned rich, dark coffee into two mugs, Narcissa and Roderick could take care of themselves, she decided. She would not be making breakfast for anyone that morning. Her feet had now grown accustomed to the coldness of the floor and she was unconcerned by the chilly draughts that blew through the house. She could see a family of grey-brown rabbits emerge from their burrow at the base of the large oak tree in the back garden. She became so wrapped up in watching this mirror of her own transitory home-making that she didn’t hear the sitting room door open or notice the fact that she was no longer alone, until fingers snapped in front of her face.
“Daydreaming at this early hour?” Roderick asked. His hair wasn’t its usual well-combed self and Maeve couldn’t help thinking it made him look rather more attractive than normal.
“Survived the night, I see,” she grinned. “And the dragged-through-a-haystack-backwards look suits you.”
He ran a self-conscious hand through his unruly waves and smiled back.
“Is milady fancying a bit of rough?” The question was accompanied by a wolfish smile and a wink. “Or have we already had it?”
“Don’t be so inquisitive,” she retorted, handing him a mug from the cupboard and half reaching up again. “Narcissa want one?”
“I shouldn’t think so. She’s still sleeping.”
Maeve brought her hand back down and closed the door. “Tired her out did you?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, not that it’s anything for you to worry your pretty little head about, I slept like a chaste cherub on the sofa. You need a new one, by the way. The one you have is tremendously uncomfortable.”
“I highly doubt you’ll have cause to sleep on it again, so we’ll make do with that one for now.” She poured milk into the two mugs of coffee and felt an awkward break in the conversation. There were things she wanted to express, but she was unsure how to say them.
She finally settled on something that wouldn’t stir up any unnecessary emotion. “Did Narcissa tell you about Draco?”
“She did.” Roderick shifted position, his half-undone shirt revealing a smooth chest that was almost, but not quite, unblemished. “Stupid brat that he is. If he’s very lucky, Voldemort will give him another impossible task. If he’s out of luck he’ll be dead before he even has the chance to ask after the dark menace’s health.”
“Are you going to try and help him, for her sake?” She lined the mugs up carefully, readying herself to carry them upstairs.
“I rather think I’ll leave that particularly happy chore to your husband. There’s more potential for some entertaining conflict that way.”
Maeve tutted and gave him a disapproving look. “And what about you?”
“What about me?” He tipped hot water into his mug and tried to avoid the question.
“Why were the Death Eaters after you in Hogsmeade?”
“After me?” He looked puzzled. “They weren’t after me. They took the barman away.” He gave a derisive laugh. “They’re not going to catch me at anything, my lovely.”
“You need to be careful. Even clever cats run out of lives eventually,” she warned, wondering how it was she had managed to accumulate so many friends who were in seemingly imminent danger.
“Well then, it’s fortunate that I am a wizard and not of the feline persuasion, don’t you think?”
Maeve wasn’t convinced by his easy dismissal of risk and remembered Albert’s warnings about it being dangerous to serve two masters.
“Just be careful, more careful than you would think to be,” she said, looking at his youthful face and feeling a spasm of concern.
“I do believe the young lady is feeling protective!” he laughed, opening his arms to clasp her into a hug that pulled her to him. Maeve returned the gesture and slipped friendly arms around his slender waist.
“You will take care, won’t you?” she murmured into his shirt. “I lost you once and I don’t want to lose you again, even though I still think you are an incorrigible rogue.”
“I promise. I will take the utmost care of my personal safety so that I can always be around to harass and generally infuriate you,” he said into her hair, breathing in the soft scent of her recently vacated bed. “But you have to do the same. Promise me that you will allow that husband of yours to protect you. Don’t do anything rash, and for everyone’s sake don’t let Mr Potter and Mr Snape meet.”
“I know,” she said, pulling reluctantly away only to be pulled back into him. “I know they can’t meet, but I don’t know how we will destroy these Horcruxes without that happening. Severus knows so much that could help Harry but there is no way that Harry will ever see that.”
A gentle rustling of robes announced Narcissa’s arrival. She found Maeve still wrapped in Roderick’s arms and coughed impolitely. “Is one man not enough for you, that you have to claim another? I see I was right in my assessment of your character.”
Maeve leant up, ignoring Narcissa’s jealousy, and kissed Roderick on the cheek. Moving away from him she lifted the mugs and gave Narcissa a charming smile. “He’s all yours. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble. For some obscure reason I’d like to see him stay alive.”
“That’s because you love me and wouldn’t be able to exist without me in your world,” he said sarcastically, a cheeky grin making the words affectionate.
“You know, Roderick, you’re not entirely wrong in that assessment,” Maeve replied reluctantly.
“RAMPTON!” Severus’ voice roared down the stairs. “Stop trying to seduce my wife and get that Malfoy woman out of my house and to safety.”
Roderick made theatrical gestures with his hands and mimicked Severus’ words with exaggerated mouthing, which made Maeve laugh as she ascended the stairs to join her husband.
“You’ll just encourage him,” she grinned, as she entered the bedroom and set the cups down on the small table by the bed. Severus was now fully dressed and his hair was damp from having been recently washed.
“He shouldn’t speak to you like that.” There was a sharpness in his eyes that forced a more serious attitude from her. “And you shouldn’t allow him to.”
“It’s just his way, Severus. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Why don’t you collect together the things we’ll need and I’ll join you downstairs in ten minutes?”
“You have five,” he said, sweeping from the room.
Ron was sitting in the kitchen simultaneously eating a ham sandwich and playing Wizard’s Chess against the board. Fred and George had been working on a prototype for weeks and had finally given him the first model to play with. It seemed to be going quite well, and the board was extremely good at the game, but the pieces tended to be rather more vociferous than they would ordinarily be and he was getting a lot of backchat. The White Knight was regarding him with disgust because Ron had dropped crumbs onto his square but Ron was too busy sorting out a sticky situation with a bishop to worry about him. He wondered if Harry had thought any more about going back to school. Ron would have been happy never to see another textbook in his life, or write another essay. But he was beginning to worry about what Remus had said and he couldn’t deny the chance to see Hermione again would be welcomed. His mother was always going on about absence making the heart grow fonder and Ron had always disagreed, thinking absence meant you didn’t have to put up with annoying siblings quite so much. With the absence of a newly affectionate Hermione, though, he was beginning to see that it was a true enough adage.
He saved the bishop and waited for the knight to stop grumbling about crumbs before making his next move.
Harry burst into this scene of cerebral warfare and waved a piece of parchment at him excitedly. “Get packing!” he said. “Hermione’s found R.A.B.”
“What?” Ron tried to read the paper but Harry wouldn’t stop waving it long enough for him to do so.
“Look.” And he handed the parchment to Ron.
Dear Harry (and Ron),
I have found something, or someone, that you will be very interested in. Remember R.A.B.? Well, he’s here at Hogwarts. Can you come up and take a look?
Love, Hermione.
“And Ron?” Ron said loudly. “In brackets? How charming is that?”
“Never mind that, let’s go. If we can see R.A.B. then we may be able to find the secrets of this locket!” As he pulled the locket from his pocket he didn’t even notice the tiny metallic sound as something hit the floor. “If we hurry we can be there by nightfall.”
“You mean we should fly?” Ron was horrified. “Can’t we just owl McGonagall and get a Floo connection sorted?”
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose so. I’ll do that now. Go on, what are you waiting for? Get packed.” And Harry rushed from the room, more optimistic than he had been for a few days.
“I don’t understand,” Professor McGonagall said to Percy Weasley as she paced the floor of her office. “Professor Rampton and Professor Lupin missing? How can that be? Is there any sign of foul play?”
“Nothing at all. Professor Lupin was supposed to be visiting Diagon Alley and coming straight back, but he wasn’t at lunch and now he is nowhere to be found in the castle. Professor Rampton was supposed to escort Professor Snape to her home and then also return immediately. But that was last night, so he has been missing even longer.”
The headmistress pulled her robes around her tightly and drew herself up to her full height. “This is impossible. How am I supposed to run a school like this, Mr Weasley?”
“It’s extremely difficult, Headmistress.” Percy set his clipboard down on the desk and sighed. “I did try to warn you that Rampton was highly unsuitable as a teacher. His time here last year was not the easiest and he did not prove himself as well as might have been expected. If you ask me…”
“I did not ask you,” she said sharply. “Professor Rampton was sent to us by the Ministry, Mr Weasley. I had no choice in the matter. Perhaps we should be more concerned than angry. After all, we live in dangerous times.”
She came to rest in the chair by the fire and looked deep into the flames for a moment, as if hoping to find something in the crackle of the fire that would explain the mysterious disappearance of two of her professors. As Percy fussed around with a notebook and several rolls of parchment the fire roared and she jumped up in surprise, forgetting that she had given permission to Harry and Ron to use the Floo network to get into Hogwarts. Opening up the fire had been risky but it was the safest way to get Harry here given the latest happening that morning. No one, least of all her, had expected the railway line into Hogsmeade to be sabotaged, and in such a spectacular way. The viaduct that spanned the swollen river Tweed had been blown to smithereens and it was lucky that the train had been ten minutes late or the casualty figures would have been high.
Harry was the first to step from the green flames and he brushed himself down as Ron popped up after him.
“Ah, Mr Potter, you made it,” Professor McGonagall greeted him with a warm smile. “So good to have you back with us. And Mr Weasley, you seem to have something in your hair.”
Ron reached up and pulled a white knight from behind his ear. “I wondered what that muttering was,” he mumbled, slipping the chess piece into his pocket. He caught sight of Percy, who was still trying to look busy and scowled. “Still avoiding doing any real work then, Perce,” he said harshly.
“My work here is quite fulfilling and keeps me more than occupied.” His face was stiff as he scooped up his things. “If you need me, Headmistress, I will be in my office.”
“Oooh, Percy got an office,” Ron began in a sarcastic tone.
“That will be enough, Mr Weasley. You will both find places have been allocated to you in the Gryffindor dormitory. You can take your luggage up and then I will arrange for the house-elves to bring you some supper. No doubt you have not eaten properly without your mother to cook for you.”
Ron perked up a little at the mention of properly cooked food and nodded.
“Thanks, Professor McGonagall,” Harry said. “It’s good of you to take us back.”
“That’s quite all right, Harry,” she replied. “I don’t suppose you have seen anything of Professor Lupin, have you? I understand he was down in London this morning.”
Harry blushed a little at the memory of the disagreement they had had. A needless one given the fact he was back here now. “He said he had something to do. We met him in the Leaky Cauldron this morning and he left us about half-eleven.”
“Did he give you any indication what it was he had to do or where he was going?” she asked.
Harry shook his head. “No, he just went. Seemed fairly important though. Have you owled him?”
Professor McGonagall twisted her hands together in consternation. “No, not yet. I shall attend to that straight away. And Professor Rampton is also missing. Very well, off you go.”
“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered as they went down the stairs. “Two professors missing and Percy lording it up with an office. Looks like Hogwarts is having a bad time.”
“They’ll turn up,” Harry said. “Let’s go see Hermione and find out when we can meet R.A.B.”
Ron was more than happy with this suggestion and they rushed off down familiar corridors to the Gryffindor common room.
Maeve stood in the lee of her house and screwed her face up against the cold wind that was now whistling over the mountain. Severus was exchanging hurried words with Roderick, who was now looking considerably more composed than he had earlier. They spoke in low, serious tones and she found she didn’t want to know what they were plotting. Narcissa remained aloof and wary in the kitchen doorway, a cup of tea burning her hands comfortably against the late September chill. Now that they were ready to go she just wanted to leave, having already said her goodbyes to her house and the mountain where she had planned to make her home. She was aware that there still might be time left for them to make a home there, but until they had finished this war with Voldemort she could not settle her mind to the prospect.
“We’re ready,” Severus said, walking away from Roderick with a sullen expression and a nod. He paused and looked towards Narcissa, something unsaid hovering in the air between them. It remained unsaid, however, as he veered away from her and made his way towards his wife. “Have you said your goodbyes?”
“I think so,” Maeve nodded. “I’ve given Narcissa the use of the house for the time being. There is no reason for anyone to look for her here and she will be safe for the time being. Roderick will keep an eye on her.”
Severus looked thoroughly disinterested in the arrangements that had been made for Narcissa and turned away from the house. Maeve walked across to Roderick and, rather formally for both of them, shook his hand and gave him a grateful smile.
“I can’t thank you enough for all you have done,” she said, her heart filled with sincerity. “And you know I think you are more than just a shoulder to cry on.”
“I know, lovely,” he replied, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “You look after each other. I don’t want to have to come and pick up the pieces of either of you.”
“We will. And don’t let her destroy my house while we’re gone.”
“You should give her a little bit of latitude, Maeve,” Roderick chided. “She’s been through a lot recently.”
“I suppose,” she said, her face doubtful. The path she trod to reach Narcissa was a reluctant one but she did it and even managed a small grin.
“I hope you won’t go chasing after Draco. Leave him to Severus,” she said.
Narcissa gave her a cold smile and arched an eyebrow. “And you, presumably, being as you are now glued to Severus.”
“And me,” Maeve agreed, resisting the temptation to rub Narcissa’s nose in her futility. “But Severus will do his best for Draco, even though he doesn’t deserve it. Take care of yourself.”
“And you.” The words were dragged from Narcissa, despite her best efforts not to say them.
“And leave my house in one piece.” Maeve turned on her heel and went to where Severus was waiting by the gatepost. With one last, sad look at her house she took Severus’ hand and prepared from the sickening sensation of Apparation. The scene in front of her disappeared and before she could blink she felt herself being thrust into a scene that was as far removed from Rathgael as it could be.
It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the unnatural darkness that surrounded them and she found her hand tightening around her husband’s. He allowed her to hold on for a few moments before withdrawing his wand and setting some light to the scene. She gazed in amazement at a wall overflowing with chunky, grey switches. It was a large room, made larger by the lack of any furnishings, but the ceiling was low and oppressive, a leaden sky above their heads. There was a smell of disuse and officialdom about the place and Maeve wondered where on earth they were.
Severus immediately began to walk towards the custard-coloured door, bidding her to follow him.
“What is this place?” she asked, as they moved from the room they had arrived in to a smaller, equally grey one.
“It’s a bunker,” Severus replied, moving through yet another door and forcing her to trot to keep up with him. In this room there was a line of industrial-looking sinks, some with ancient, half-used soap sitting on them. They exited this room and came to the place that Severus was obviously living in. There was a tidy bed made up with a few toiletries lined up on a shelf. She felt a sudden pang of sorrow as she saw his meagre belongings in this strange, unloved place. Through the open door at the end she could see what appeared to be a shower room with the minimum of fittings.
“Bunker for what?” she asked, as he began to pull some blankets from a cupboard.
“Some Muggle concoction. A long time ago, when I actively worked for the Dark Lord, I was asked to scout for these places. They were useful buildings either to attack or hide in. It’s built to withstand considerable force, but it will also block a lot of signals, even magical ones. I’m finding this one serves my purposes well.”
“Does Voldemort know you are here?” Maeve sat on one of the beds and felt its springy softness give beneath her.
“No. The Dark Lord knows little about these places, which is why I am happy to bring you here and keep you safe for now. But we will have to move eventually. You always have to move eventually.”
“And what about Draco?” she asked tentatively. “Will you bring him here?”
“No, Draco must not know about this place. As long as it remains somewhere only we know we can count ourselves reasonably well hidden. Draco is a thorny problem. I have asked Rampton to do a little investigation. Narcissa told me he was heading for Eastwrithe. I thought you knew where that was, but I was wrong. The Dark Lord has set himself up in Rampton’s old home once again, although with the minimum of fuss this time. So it would appear that Draco is seeking an audience with the Dark Lord and could get himself killed in the process.”
“Will Voldemort be that angry? I get the impression he likes to toy with people a little before killing them.”
He gave her a tired look, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stave of a headache. “He did not toy with you, did he?”
“No, I don’t suppose he did,” she said.
“I have to go out. You will be perfectly safe here. There are protections around the place as well as its natural disguise.”
“I want to come with you!” she said, leaping up from the bed and walking across to him.
He grimaced and shook his head. “Not possible, not today.”
“This was about being with you, fighting with you.”
“Oh, just stop being so silly, Maeve!” he snapped. “I am going to see the Dark Lord. If you really want to help me you will remain here and stay out of harm’s way.” He gripped her shoulders and pulled her to him so that their bodies touched at the hips. “I know you are an intelligent woman so don’t let emotions cloud your judgement. I need you safe. I do not need to be worrying about you. If you wish to be useful you can read through those” – he indicated pile pf parchments that sat on a shelf – “and see what you can uncover.”
“I hate the idea of you going to see him.” She glared at the parchments. “Knowing that as I sit and read through that lot you are in the presence of someone who seeks to kill me, and you if he had a mind to. I can’t express in words how much dread it fills me with.”
“It’s not a prospect that I ever look forward to,” he admitted. “I walk a flimsy line between life and death in his presence. There isn’t anyone who is not expendable.”
“You’re not expendable to me,” Maeve insisted, reaching for his hand and running anxious fingers over his own, cool ones. “So you need to be careful.”
He gave her a withering look that stilled her concerns, if only temporarily. “I am always careful, Maeve. You, of all people, should know that.”
“Right, well, you’d better get going then. Please, Severus, I know that you have some sort of obligation to Draco. Just don’t pursue it to the point where you place yourself in danger.”
“Are you suggesting I should place my own life before that of a child?”
“Yes, when that child is Draco Malfoy. You are more important to the cause than he is. And he doesn’t deserve your protection.” Maeve couldn’t help the peevishness in her voice. “You should save it for people that matter.”
“Like Potter,” he spat.
“Yes, like Harry,” Maeve corrected.
“What makes you think Potter is any different to Malfoy? They both cause trouble in their own ways. The only reason I wish to avoid killing Potter is to finish this nonsense and get on with my life, with our life. Who lives and who dies is of no personal concern of mine.”
“You have a very subtle way of reminding me of how callous you can be.”
“Then why did you marry me?”
“Because I love you, warts and all.”
He twisted his lips at her in something that was neither a grin nor a scowl. “I need to go. Do as I say and do not leave or allow anyone entry.”
Maeve nodded and bowed her head, feeling they were parting on a sour note. He raised her face to his and managed a small smile that contained a colossal amount of concern. “You would try the patience of angels,” he said. “Fortunately for you, I have more patience than those fabled beings.” He bent to kiss her and she returned the gesture, the familiar feeling of warmth flaring somewhere in her stomach at the rare touch of his lips.
He pulled away and stroked her hair for a moment, content to admire her face, a face that always made him feel as though he had returned to the shelter of home. “I’ll be back soon enough,” he said. She felt sick as he walked away from her, the fear of loss paralysing her voice. As he reached the thick, iron door he looked back and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t go, his unwillingness was so overwhelming. “I love you, Maeve,” he said, before hurrying from the room and closing the door behind him.
“I love you too,” she whispered into the echoing space that was now achingly empty. His parting words brought anguished tears to her eyes as she allowed them to wash over her. With death weighing heavy on her mind she couldn’t help thinking that they would make eminently suitable last words, something to treasure if she never saw him again.
Turning to the parchments that awaited her, she realised that she had no idea what she was searching through them for. She opened the first roll listlessly and realised it was a list of furniture, so she tossed it back onto the pile and went to the door. If she was to be stuck in this place, she might as well explore her surroundings.
“Ron, Harry!” Hermione leapt from her chair and rushed to greet them. “It’s so good to see you! Are you staying?” She couldn’t help notice the two holdalls they carried and she looked to Harry for an explanation.
He grinned widely. “Maybe. At least, I think so.”
“That’s fantastic,” she exploded with delight. “I mean… It’s great. Everyone’s very friendly but it’s just not the same without you two.”
Ron was blushing slightly and looked ill at ease. Hermione turned to him and patted his arm affectionately. “You’re looking a bit flushed, Ron. Are you coming down with a cold? I’ll bet you’ve been eating rubbish without your mum there to cook for you.”
“Yeah, well, we did all right, didn’t we, Harry?”
Harry snorted and gave Hermione a look that said they didn’t do that well at all in the food stakes. “So,” he said, getting straight to the point. “What about R.A.B.?”
“It can wait,” Hermione laughed. “You two need to get unpacked and eat before I launch into a long explanation about my news.”
“All right, Harry, Ron?” Seamus had just stepped through the portrait hole and greeted them as if they had been there since the start of term. “You missed dinner.”
“We know, Seamus,” they chorused, in unison.
“Neville will be pleased to see you. Sure he’s been moping a lot lately. Some oul codger persuaded him to stay, ‘cos he was on his way to join you two down in London.”
“Really?” Harry turned to Hermione for an explanation. “Is that right?”
Hermione nodded quickly. “He was. He felt really useless and, well, what with certain things, he felt he should be with you.”
“Blimey.” Ron looked relieved. “Looks like we had a lucky escape then. Neville stuck in Grimmauld Place would have been depressing as anything. You were bad enough, Harry.”
The peace was shattered by Dobby, who made a loud entrance and arrived with a huge smile on his face. He scurried at once to Harry’s side.
“Oh, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is most pleased to have you back at Hogwarts. Dobby has been most miserable since you did not come back to school. Although Dobby completely understands Harry Potter has more important things to do than come to school.” Dobby looked a little cowed at the thought he may have inadvertently criticised Harry. “Dobby is fixing you some food and would like to know if you would like it here or in the Great Hall. Dobby can arrange for a table to be laid in either place. Whatever suits Harry Potter, sir.”
“Hello, Dobby,” Harry said, glad of the reminder that there were advantages to being at Hogwarts. “We’ll have it here, thanks.”
“Certainly, Harry Potter, sir. It’s on its way.” Dobby swept low in a bow and cracked from the room, leaving them to resume their conversation.
True to his word, Dobby produced a tasty spread for Harry and Ron and they sat by the fire with it all arrayed on a low table in front of them. Once the important business of eating was concluded the three of them huddled together and Hermione began to tell them the tale of the graveyard.
“I told Maeve about it,” she said. “But Maeve wasn’t entirely convinced, said it could have been anyone. But I’ve found proof of the identity.”
Harry was busily getting over the fact that R.A.B. was buried in the ground and was intrigued by Hermione’s tale. Whereas Maeve had been keen to disbelieve the connection, Harry was only too happy to strengthen it, and in his mind he was sure that the person in the grave was the person who had left the note in the fake locket.
“I found another book in the library. You know, that place is a real goldmine if Madam Pince leaves you alone for long enough. Anyway, it was a book written by a healer who spent a year in Hogsmeade called A Year in the Wilderness, which made me a bit unsure. Hogsmeade is hardly a wilderness. Anyway, he attended an incident here at Hogwarts at about the time that Regulus Black disappeared. A body was found in the grounds, the Killing Curse, apparently. The healer made mention of the suspicious circumstances and that the body was never formally identified. Although he did say something about a family crest stitched to the person’s undergarments.” She sat back, satisfied with her evidence gathering.
“But,” Ron sighed, “that doesn’t really tell us much, does it? I mean, Black’s dead and he’s taken whatever he knew to the grave with him.”
“But if he died here, then maybe some of the staff know something. I bet Filch would have a fair idea of something dodgy that went on back then.” Harry suggested. “The problem would be getting him to talk about it.”
“You’d need help, someone that Filch would trust.” Hermione’s suggestion was sound, but they all looked very doubtful that anyone could be found who Filch would take into his confidence.
“You could talk to Remus,” Ron said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“Yeah, because Filch would really open up to a former Marauder.” Harry looked thoughtful. “It would need to be someone as dodgy as Filch, but everyone here is so… well… Upright.”
“What about that new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Rampton. He’s always seemed fairly odd.” Ron could well remember Roderick’s skulking around last year but was unprepared for Hermione’s sudden look of adulation.
“Oh, no. He’s fabulous,” she breathed. “He’s like Gilderoy Lockhart but with brains and a memory that works. I’m sure he wouldn’t have anything to do with Filch.”
“All right,” Harry said with a decisive air. “I’m going to send an owl to Maeve later anyway, so I’ll ask her what she thinks about Filch.”
They broke their little meeting up with nothing decided, but hoping that Maeve could come up with a solution to cracking the nut that was Filch. If she couldn’t then they would have to try other methods, and knowing Filch, they would fail abysmally. As Harry prepared to go up and get ready for bed the portrait hole opened and a red-haired girl stepped into the common room. As she looked across and spotted Harry and Ron her face broke into a huge smile.
“Someone said you were back, but I didn’t believe them.”
“All right, Ginny?” Ron asked.
Harry felt that familiar rise of adrenaline in his chest and as she walked across to him he really wished he had had the chance to talk to Maeve about what he was going to do regarding Ginny. She was standing before him with an expectant look on her face and he didn’t have a clue what to say to her.
Maeve was curled up on Severus’ bed, wrapping herself in a grey blanket that still bore his scent, reading through the parchments. They were mostly a roughly scribbled history of Rowena Ravenclaw and were meaningless to her. The parchment she was currently pretending to be interested in was a list of the possessions that Rowena Ravenclaw was purported to have left behind. Maeve had got stuck somewhere between the large oak door that had once formed the entrance to Rowena’s house and a vase that looked like a foaming wave on the ocean. How could this possibly mean anything to anyone? She flung them to one side and moved restlessly from the room to the outer fringes of the bunker. Severus had said she couldn’t open the door to allow anyone in, but he hadn’t said anything about opening the door to allow air into this stifling excuse for a building.
It was a huge door, sitting proudly on its well-constructed hinges, and it took most of her strength to move it. It pulled inwards slowly, teasing her with a gradual view of the world beyond; a world that was a tangle of overgrown trees and weeds. And there, sitting calmly on a branch blinking at her, was Hedwig.
“Now what could you possibly want?” she asked, reaching out for the bird.