The Girl in the Tower
| Dear
Sara, This is becoming too much to deal with. WHEN are you coming home? I haven’t received so much as a single word from you in at least a year. Summer came and went, now winter is at it’s end again and spring is here for the second time. Yet you have not returned my ring and I still get strange items in the mail, meant for our house, I assume. I hold out hope that your return grows nearer with every passing day, but each of those same days brings renewed doubt, frustration, and my trust is slowly fading. I did not write in this journal for a long time, since I stood alone on the roof last June, waiting for you and you never came. I can’t tell you how it made me feel, to be so certain, so exited to see you, and to be so wrong. I felt abandoned all over again and knew I had to let go of you just a little bit more or lose my mind. I guess I should catch you up. Summer was ok. It was strange to turn 19, it didn’t even seem like I’d ever been 18. I guess time stood still for me and here I’ll be turning twenty in just a few months. Strange to think the last time I saw you we were seventeen. Am I ever going to be happy Sara? It would be nice to be able to smile again and mean it. Thanks for the birthday gifts, I needed a new green sweater. I was just thinking that it needed replacing and then one comes with the post. I do love your ability to know what I’m thinking. Just like with the nautical decor I decided on for the boat landing. Weird, but very handy. Thanks for all the Christmas gifts, too. I really needed a few new robes, with classes and all. It was so much easier to dress when I was a student and we wore the same outfit every single day. (though I’d be lying if I said I don’t love great clothes.) I just wish I could send you something for your birthday. Last year I left your gift by the front door of the cottage so you could blink in and pick it up without venturing through the house, but you returned the note I sent to let you know and the gift was still there when I went back. In August we went to the Quidditch World Cup and England was in the lead, then lost their seeker to a dirty play by Ireland. They were allowed to designate a replacement player and Ron had me volunteered instantly. Before I knew what was happening, I was on my broom and wearing England’s uniform. I was furious with Ron, but I’d forgotten how much I love playing Quidditch and enjoyed the experience thoroughly. It was different, playing with the best in the world, and incredibly difficult, but I managed to catch the snitch to win the game. I wish you could have been there, Sara. You always did like Quidditch and this was my best moment to date. They even gave me one of the trophies and I put it in the house next to my father’s plaque . You should see our house! It’s huge, it’s beautiful, and it’s almost done! The back part went up last summer and they constructed the ells in the fall. The inside, including the wiring and the pipes, was completed over the winter. As soon as the ground dries a little more they’ll be finishing off the tile in the courtyard and installing the fountains that mysteriously showed up there. (thank you) I ordered a bunch of lilac trees from New York State and I should be getting them soon. I thought you might like being surrounded by a million purple flowers. There is a swimming pool in a glass solarium off the back. I know it wasn’t in the plans, but I’ve always wanted one. Since Seamus and I are doing so well, I thought I’d go ahead with it. We don’t really even have to work anymore. He’s hired people to handle every detail, so we just stop in now and again. Ron and Hermione are in charge of most of it, but they can only work at night. Sometimes Seamus, Neville and I go there when Ron and Hermione are working and no work gets done, unless you count quality control and inspection. (ha ha) I made a most interesting hiding place off the stair that leads down to the cave. It’s an intricate labyrinth with a locked room at the end. It took me forever, but Snape told Dumbledore the Ka-tet was being sought after and Hermione’s book had to become more secure. I don’t know how much, if anything Snape told you about Malfoy, but he showed up here last summer and gave me a warning. He only stayed a moment and was extremely rude to me, for show I guess. His note said he was being watched and to not contact him. A week later, he tossed Ron and Hermione’s flat, then showed up at the Burrow. I guess Ginny was running away from a very large spider which had wandered in out of the garden and plowed him over on the front porch. I didn’t hear this first-hand, of course, as she still won’t talk to me, but I spoke to Fred and George at their shop in Diagon Alley. (By the way, they just bought the shop next door and knocked out the wall.) Draco said he was there to speak to Mr. Weasley about a muggle artifact he’d found in his father’s office, but he was turned away at the door and is not welcome back. I guess he was after Ron’s spell book? Hermione seems to think he WANTED to be turned away. He insulted Mr. Weasley and everything. I have seen Draco very few times. He smiled and raised a hand to me once in Diagon Alley, but he turned away and kept on walking. Ron, Hermione, and I passed him once or twice at The Phantom, but other than that, he’s been laying low. Snape seems to think he was given orders and is trying his best not to follow them, but is keeping up appearances. This sounds right to me, given the note of warning and offensive manner. Hermione says it makes sense and I’ve got Ron trying to come up with a way out for him. We meet in the fireplace and talk about it at night sometimes, but you know how they feel about Malfoy. My second year of teaching has gone smoothly. The 5th years are now 7th years and I’ve had some practice. I could see myself doing it forever I guess, but there isn’t much free time. I would be expected to sleep here and if you ever come back to me I would want to be at our house. The day you come home is the day I stop teaching. I went on holiday with Sirius for a week in July. It was great to see him again. I wish I could tell you all about it, but I don’t dare write anything down. I swear, I will bring Wormtail to the Ministry one day. And there would be no disappearances of suspect, witnesses, and paperwork. I will clear Sirius’ name, even if it’s on my deathbed. Anyway, Dumbledore has taught me so much! Last week we ran an exercise in the forest where targets materialized out of nowhere between the trees, above me and sometimes right behind me. It was pretty rapid-fire, but all I had to do was blow them all up without using my wand. it was cool, I did well and rather liked causing all those explosions. It was kind of empowering. Roland says my training is nearing it’s end and after about a year and a half in his company, I’ll be sorry to see him go. I spent a lot of time with Roland, roaming Diagon Alley, going to the Three Broomsticks on Friday nights with Hagrid. He became a permanent fixture in the tower where we talked for many, many hours. He says I’m not a strategist, that I’m simple and straight forward. It’s something I guess I’ve always known about myself. It’s why Ron always comes in so handy. And Hermione, too. If I’m simple, she must be the most complicated person on the planet. Well, after you. There’s no one more complicated than you, and I don’t mean that in an angry way. It’s not your fault. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to be you. To have to suffer what I have seen you suffer. No matter how down I became at any point during your absence, I always remembered that it’s worse for you. Come home, Sara. Life is a meager existence without you. Love, Harry
“Hello, Severus.” Sara smiled, “I’m glad you could come.” “Hello, my dear.” he smiled as she hugged him and pecked his cheek. She was in much better spirits, he immediately noticed. Her whole demeanor was lighter and there was a few golden strands mixed into her hair. Just a few. He thought, he could probably count them. “I heard what you did to the Deatheaters. News like that travels far and wide!” “It was nothing, really. All I did was call on the winds and off they all went. Teach them to try to surround me like that.” “I can only wonder where they all set down?” Snape grinned and led her to the sofa. The house was comfortable enough, but small, just a few stone rooms, decorated nicely, but sparingly. Sara didn’t seem to mind. They sat down before the fire. He missed the more tropical locations Sara favored. Romania was like a night in the English countryside, only all day. The small town lay in the shadow of the Carpathian Mountains and was often chilled. Greg Sanders was in the kitchen cooking a wonderfully aromatic dinner and Vanya, the other elemental, was propped in a green velvet wing-back chair, staring blankly out a small wood-framed window. Her long gray hair, shining in the halo of a table lamp, spilled down the side like quicksilver. Snape wondered how she managed to teach Sara anything in such a state. She appeared to be permanently out to lunch. The Orb of Arassel was by Vanya’s right hand, her fingers stroking the base with the slightest movement. Sara smiled as she poured him a drink and Snape noticed how much she had grown up. Her face retained little of the cuteness it had possessed and her beauty was in general more mature. There was knowledge and conviction in her eyes that hadn‘t been there before. Strangely, she reminded him of Potter of all people, though he supposed that wasn‘t such a terrible thing. He was reminded she would turn twenty at the start of next term and wondered where all the time had gone. It seemed just yesterday she was a student in his classroom. She handed him the glass. “I’m glad you found it okay. Tell me how you’ve been these last few months.” “News at the school is business as usual I’m afraid. Why don’t you tell me about your time here in Romania. I‘m sure it‘s much more interesting.” “There’s not much to tell, really. After I scattered the Deatheaters it’s been pretty boring. I’m tired of capturing them. Besides, Azkaban must have it’s hands full with what, sixteen?” “Twenty-two to be exact.” “I can’t believe Voldemort would keep sending them! He’s not going to get my book. When will he realize the fact?” “Probably never.” “Anyway, Vanya has taught me more in these last few months than I ever learned in my whole life. More than I could ever learn on my own. She passes on all that she knows, unselfishly, and her wisdom, Severus, it’s infinite. She showed me how to use the wind against the army of Voldemort’s minions. She’s shown me everything. You wouldn‘t believe what I can do.” To this she gave a somewhat devilish smile. “I could only imagine.” Snape smiled in return. “Spontaneous combustion?” He mused. “Yes.” Now she grinned wickedly, “I finally learned how to summon fire. Too cool, Sevvie. Wait ‘till you see.” He didn’t bother complaining about her use of his much hated childhood nickname. The way her eyes lit up just now gave him a spark of hope. The blond strands in her hair, her new confidence. Perhaps, he thought, she was starting to get better? He knew better than to assume anything. He’d thought she was on the rise twice already, only to watch her come crashing back down. Once when she had returned a letter from Potter, the other when she had met a man. Someone she’d grown rather fond of over a few weeks, then suddenly she left the city. The abrupt move was followed by a long spell of grief, which she’d spent moping in bed, refusing to get up. Sara held out a hand and within seconds a bright blue ball of flame formed above it, yellow and orange tongues snaking out and fading back, licking the air. She closed her hand and it blinked out. “I can throw it.” She bragged, “I’ll demonstrate for you later.” “I’ll look forward to it.” Mr. Sanders poked his head out of the kitchen. “Hey all, go and sit yourselves down. It’ll be done in no time.”
“Show me Draco.” The Orb misted over and she was looking at a family room. The scene was familiar and she had no idea why she was seeing a shaggy haired Harry instead of Draco, but her attention was on Ginny Weasley. This was the Burrow, where she had visited only once, and Ginny was angry. Faint voices drifted through her head as she touched the Orb and Harry blew his nose on a fine linen handkerchief. He’s sick. She thought. Why wouldn’t Harry just take a potion? Surely Snape kept the hospital supplied and she knew Harry was able to make a simple medicine. Why would he suffer this way? “See?” She heard Ginny say as she did a short, but very clever spell and revealed an obvious hiding place, “Ron’s book is perfectly safe! I‘m surprised Dumbledore would question my family‘s ability to protect this one book!” “You never know with him. He‘s a shifty sort.” Harry replied as Ginny locked it back up. “Is that all you came for?” “Yes.” He said matter-of-fact as he grabbed each cuff and straightened his sleeves, then brushed dust off them as he looked around in distaste. Ginny glared at him. Harry glanced up and away, as if wondering if he should bother with her, then gave a her a bored smile. “How are you?” Harry asked and Sara fully expected him to stick his hands in his pockets, but instead he loosely clasped his hands in front and stood perfectly still. It was an elegant pose that didn’t suit him. “Really! Should I get some more pumpkin juice? You’re such a creep, Harry. The way you play with my heart like I have no feelings at all! I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now except Dumbledore sent you. “ “I see.” Harry said and something struck Sara as odd. He ran a hand through his hair, as if to slick it back. She had never seen him do this, he always just swiped it out of his eyes, yet the gesture was strangely familiar. “Dumbledore also asked if you could lend him a pair of your mother’s knitting needles. Some experiment he’s doing.” “That’s not Harry!” Sara said aloud and took in a nervous breath, “That’s Draco!” The delicate and quirky mannerisms clicked all at once and the recognition was instantaneous. “Ginny you fool, I thought you knew him so well!” She watched, mortified, as Draco/Harry used the same spell to reopen the hiding place and quickly stuffed the book into the front of his pants, then drew his robe around it. He went out to wait for her on the steps, hovering on a silver Lightning Mach 1. Harry, she knew, rode a gold Mach 2. The one she’d bought for herself and gave to him. Ginny came through the door, her eyes hurt, knitting needles in hand. These she handed to Harry. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked with a suspicious eye, “You’re acting funny.” “I’ll be fine, once I get my allergy potion.” He sniffled, “I hate spring. Well, bye Ginny.” The scene faded as he split the air with his broom and Ginny went inside and slammed the door. Sara wasted no time. Throwing a black cloak around her shoulders, she called to Severus as she hurried through the house. “I have to go out!” Snape stammered a moment from his place before the fire, but she was through the door and gone before he could utter a word. The Firebolt was propped against the stone structure of Vanya’s house and she threw herself over it, flying swiftly as she dared into the trees of the Dark Forest. She thought of a snippet of conversation from years before where Severus had mentioned having to brew Draco a new batch of his allergy potion and also an image which she held fast to. Harry with hair past his shoulders, silky but kind of wild, thick and beautiful. She loved the way it looked on him. She imagined how it might feel if she ran her fingers through it. Dragging her mind away from Harry, she sent out her plea, pushing it toward an image she held in her thoughts. Nikolae! I need your help! Sara slowed, a figure coming into view in the path up ahead. Is that you? Yes. Sara stopped a few feet from him and landed with haste and with urgency in her usually calm demeanor. He wore a concealing hood over his eyes and his cloak brushed the ground as he closed the distance between them. His voice hushed in the silence. “What is it, Nikita?” “You took the hairs from some of the Deatheaters awhile ago. Do you still have them?” “Yes.” He pulled a handful of vials from his cloak to show her. “We need polyjuice potion. Take me to this old wizard who favors you so kindly. I can pay him.” “No need.” He reached back into his cloak, “I have some right here.” She grabbed his arm and made her broom fly itself back to the little house. “Hold tight to me.” She said and as soon as he did, Sara commanded the wind to lift them, propel them through the sky like a shooting star toward London. Harry made his way to Dumbledore’s office, fresh from the shower. He had concluded his fencing lessons today and Roland had declared him a master swordsman. It was weird, the way it had all come so clear to him. He had been able to hold Roland off for what seemed like forever, at least a year, maybe less, but today he could actually
see what Roland would do next. Able to predict his next move, Harry defeated him in less than ten minutes, his sword at Roland’s throat. He couldn’t wait to tell the Headmaster. “Ice Mice.” He said and stepped onto the stairs as they descended, then lifted him to the entrance. The place was a shambles when he pushed open the door and there was Roland, rummaging through a cabinet, his back to Harry, obviously searching for something and without permission. He went about his chore with nervous haste and Harry silently drew his wand. “Would you mind explaining,” Harry said, jolting Roland to stand and spin around, terror in his expression. “exactly why you’re tossing the Headmaster’s office?” “He was h-h-holding something for me. Go on now, Harry. Leave me to my task, I assure you Dumbledore knows I’m here.” “Somehow I doubt that.” Harry indicated the chair Dumbledore kept for students, facing the larger one behind his desk. “Sit down and don’t try anything funny. Not if you want to remain conscious.” “You don’t understand.” Roland said as he took his seat, “Stow your wand and I’ll be on my way.” “Not much chance of that. I want to know what you were looking for.” There came a voice like aged parchment from behind and Harry moved to see and kept his wand trained on his prisoner. “He was looking for this.” Dumbledore pulled Harry’s black spell book from within the folds of his cloak. “That’s what I thought.” Harry sighed, turning back to face Roland. “I trusted you. I considered you a friend and an ally.” “I’m sorry, Harry. You don’t understand!” Dumbledore came forward. “Don’t be too hard on him, Harry. Roland is not a Deatheater.” “But he works for Voldemort!” “Yes, but perhaps we should hear his reasons.” Harry turned a skeptical eye on his instructor. “This should be interesting. Alright then. Why are you after my book?” “To save my family.” Roland sighed and slumped in defeat. “When the Headmaster asked me to come to Hogwarts to train you I was relieved, for my wife and five children needed the money. I had resorted to prize fighting just to put food on the table. I was also quite honored to be asked. It’s not everyday one gets to train the likes of Harry Potter! I was foolish in my pride. I went to the pub in the village, drank countless pints with a group of good fellows, and bragged about my new appointment. I took little notice of three wizards who sat quietly in a dark corner, keeping to themselves mostly, but they seemed to take a keen interest in my story. They bought my next two pints and a round for the fellows I was with in exchange for a bit of conversation, which I was more than happy to give, drunk as I was by then.” Harry’s face was expressionless. “Deatheaters.” “Must have been. A few days later they returned, only not to the pub. I was awakened in the night as they stood over the very bed I share with Moira.” His face grew dismal. “They took my eldest son and won’t return him until I give them that book.” He pointed at the volume in Dumbledore’s hands. “I see.” Harry said, thinking over this new information. “You see Harry, I had no choice. They’ll kill him if I don’t do as they ask! I’m not an evil man. Just a very worried father. I never wanted to betray your trust.” Harry looked to Dumbledore. “I’d suggest a veritas serum, but I’m afraid I believe him, sir.” “As do I, Harry. Roland is a good, honest wizard, as was his father before him. And I sense no deception from him. However, if what he says is true, there is a young man’s life at stake and that is a problem.” Harry came to life and stowed his wand. “Keep him here. I need to find Ron and Hermione.” “You have a plan?” “I hope so, but without Sara, it might be hopeless. May I use the chamber?” “Of course.”
“What do you want?” Draco sneered, annoyed by the two ugly wizards who’d rung his doorbell. “The master has sent us to collect what you’ve only recently acquired.” “Already? I only got here an hour ago!” “May we step inside, sir?” “Give me your names first.” Sara spoke right up. “Why my dear, it’s Mrs. Parkinson! You attended Hogwarts with my daughter, Pansy.” “Oh.” Draco said and made a face, “Her. Actually, I think I remember you from my father’s ridiculous Deatheater parties.” He turned to Nikolae. “Well? Who the hell are you?” “You must remember Aleister Greingrass!” Sara exclaimed. “Pleased to see you again, Mr. Malfoy.” Nikolae bowed his head in greeting. “Now may we come in?” “I guess.” Draco stepped aside to permit them entrance, “Just stay on the mat and I’ll get it. Your shoes are filthy.” He shook his head as he walked away, mumbling in irritation. Sara turned to Nikolae and sent her thoughts to him, her brow wrinkled. “He’s a bastard! He actually thinks he’s too good to associate with us!” Nikolae smiled. “He’s your friend, not mine.” “Now how do I know the two of you won’t lose this?” Draco wondered, holding the book protectively to his chest. “It took me forever to get to it and it wasn’t easy. Why didn’t Voldemort collect it himself?” Nikolae went to speak, but Sara stopped him. “The Master can’t be expected to do everything personally, you know! He did, however, send along a message for you. He said your cleverness will be well rewarded. He will call on you soon. Until then, stay here and keep a low profile.” Finally, Draco smiled. “Well, it was pretty clever. Although it doesn’t take much to fool Ginny Weasley. There are chimps smarter than her. Put a red wig on a troll and she‘d think it was her own mother.” Sara was amazed at the side of Draco she had never seen, the side everyone told her existed. He was rude and nasty, but somehow he looked even better than he had last time she’d seen him. His beautiful platinum hair spilled over his shoulders, straight and fine as silk. She missed him so much it was hard to be this close and not tell him who she really was. “What about the others?” “What do you mean?” She asked. “The other books?” He looked at her like she was the world’s biggest idiot and her temper flared a little. “Well, there isn’t much news. We aren’t told much, but we do know that the Elemental has thwarted all attempts.” Nikolae remembered to scowl. “We had her surrounded, at least a hundred wizards strong, but she obliterated our offensive from where she stood. We lost several of our brothers and sisters that night.” “Our what?” Draco laughed, “This isn’t the Brady Bunch, you know. Just a bunch of life’s losers who work for some psycho bastard who thinks he’s the damn antichrist. Powerful as he may be, he’ll never get his hands on Sara’s book.” “What makes you so sure about that?” Draco studied the floor for a moment, then looked at her with sad eyes. “I know her, okay? We used to be friends. Until she killed my father, that is.” He touched the Amidon through his shirt. “Here.” he thrust the book into the vampire’s hands. “Now get out.” He turned his back and walked away, shoulders slumped. Sara felt tears in her eyes. “She never meant to hurt you, Malfoy.” Draco spun around, but Geingrass and Pansy’s mother had already closed the door. He’d made it halfway across the room when it started to rain and he froze, remembering the way Mrs. Parkinson had fidgeted with her necklace, the way she’d tipped her head slightly when she’d smiled warmly at him. “Oh shit.”
He said and dropped into the nearest chair. London was hot, even though night was upon the city. It was still humid and the fog was everywhere. Harry stood in the haze, looking around for Ron and Hermione’s door. The locator said they were both “home” and he was glad of it. At least he didn’t have to hunt them both down separately. Hurrying toward the duplex, he wondered about his plan. How could it possibly work without Sara? They had discussed it at length during one of their late night sessions through the fireplace and Hermione had a few ideas, but it just didn’t seem possible. He rang the bell and waited. Ron’s grin faded when it wasn’t returned and was replaced by puzzlement. Harry wore a grave expression and was immediately whisked inside. “What is it, Harry?” “Remember what we talked about? Making duplicate spell books?” “Of course. Hermione’s been researching it non-stop at the Ministry for weeks. She thinks she’s onto something, but I’ve had to run the Swill Factory all by myself!” Harry pushed past Ron and ran up the few steps to the living area. He found Hermione at the kitchen table, a dozen books open before her. “Hi Harry.” She said without looking up from her note taking. “I thought that was you.” “Hermione, what did you find? Ron said you might know how to make Sara’s book without her.” “I do, but it’s a little tricky. We would need some things from her, things we don’t have, but I think it’s possible if we can manage to get them.” “Come to Hogwarts with me, both of you! get your notes and anything else you need. I’ll explain on the way.” Just then there was another knock on the door and soon Ron reappeared with a very distraught Ginny in tow. She was crying, talking too loud, mentioning Harry’s name countless times and so upset that Harry grew worried and Hermione stood beside him. They shared a concerned glance. The second she saw Harry, she grew frantic. “Harry, please tell me you just came to the Burrow! It was you, wasn’t it?” “Uh...well, no. I came straight here from Hogwarts.” She threw herself into Ron’s arms. “Oh no! What have I done?” She sobbed, “I don’t know who it was!” “Ginny, what are you talking about? What happened, why are you upset?” “The book!” She cried, “You came to the door and asked to see it!” “I came to the door?” “But it wasn’t you! I knew it! You were acting weird and something didn’t seem right.” “Ginny. Where is the book now?” She closed her eyes, as if the confession was too unbearable. “It’s gone.”
Flourish and Blott’s was closed, but the proprietor lived above the shop and he was happy to help. He had to order the books normally, but because of who was asking and the urgency and seriousness he saw in their eyes, he volunteered to apperate to the home of the wizard that had made their spellbooks. “I’m sure he could be swayed to expedite your order for the right price.” Mr. Flourish explained. In a huddle, they pooled their money and Harry gave him 30 galleons, 20 for the wizard and ten for the proprietor himself. “I’ll owl Gringott’s and have them transfer 200 galleons.” Harry offered. They’re to go directly to Hogwarts as soon as they’re ready. It’s a matter of life and death.” “Coming from you, Mr. Potter, that is not a surprise. I’ll do my best.” “Thank you.” He said as the man blinked out and Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. “We should go. We have to talk to Dumbledore.” Ron was hesitant. “Do you think Ginny will be alright?” “She’ll be fine, Ron. The sleeping potion won’t wear off until morning.” Hermione told him. “Go on, now. Grab Harry's other arm.” With barely a thought, Harry apperated the three of them back to Hogwarts.
“So you see, Professor,” Hermione explained, “All we need is a mini pensieve, some of Sara’s blood and a lock of her hair. Sara will need to make the pensieve herself, using the memory of the first binding and a contrived memory to change the crux cube to something harmless. The blood and hair we need to fool the book into thinking she’s really there.” Harry wandered a step forward. “So, all we have to do is perform the spell inside the pensieve! Brilliant!” “Did you expect anything less from Hermione, Harry?” Dumbledore smiled, “Yet I have to admit, I never would have thought of it myself. A pensieve! Excellent work, Miss Granger.” “Thank you, sir.” She beamed, “But we’ll need all three remaining books as soon as possible. Mr. Flourish thought he could have the books here by tonight. Morning at the latest. We’ll need to make copies.” “That could be a problem.” Dumbledore stroked his beard, “It will take time for Fawks to find Severus. Not much time, but we don‘t know how far away he is.” “We might have to wait for hers, if she’ll send it at all.” For the first time, Harry sensed Hermione was upset with Sara. “Too bad we don’t have Ron’s. We could just fake it. Put in what we remember from reading it.” Ron let his fist hit the table. “I can’t believe we lost one of the books! And all because my sister couldn’t differentiate between someone she’s known for years and someone she doesn’t know at all!” Harry was quick to defend. “It’s not her fault, Ron. Don’t blame Ginny. I have a good idea of who my impersonator was, and he knows me well enough to pull it off.” “Well, we don’t need to copy my book, anyway. It’s probably already in Voldemort’s hands.” Dumbledore sighed. “We’d better decide what the new set will do. Miss Granger, can you find a way for the three new books to interact with the recently stolen book?” “Hedwig!” Harry said, surprised to see his own bird flying in with a note for him. A single scrap of paper, folded in half. All eyes turned to him as he read the few quick words. “I’ll be right back. Go ahead without me.” He said and hurried out of the room. Harry read the note again as he headed for the third floor. Potter, Come to your tower immediately. D.M. He continued down the hall past the entrance to Gryffindor House, then made a few lefts and rights until he found the large door that was somehow rather easily missed. Draco, he found, was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. “Malfoy! What are you--” “I need that book!” “I’ve had enough of books for one day.” “He won’t kill me, Potter, he’s promised me that, but I assure you I’ll wish I was dead. You don’t understand what he’ll do when he finds out I lost it!” “You lost the book!?” Draco recoiled, momentarily stunned. “You mean it isn’t here?” “As far as I knew you had it!” “It was Sara! She came to the door as one of his people. I was totally fooled. It wasn’t until she said something that was profoundly her own and hurried away that I put it together. She held her necklace. There was a certain uniqueness to her demeanor, and her countenance held a million points of recognition. It seems she’s managed to make a fool of me yet again. I’m beginning to think it’s a hobby of hers.” Harry was grinning. “Malfoy, you just made my day.” “Shove off, Potter.” Draco sulked, “It’s my skin after all, and most likely my sanity. You don’t know what I’ve been through, just know it was very, very unpleasant and I’d really hate to see him when he’s angry. You have to help me.” “Why? It seems you’re enjoying that mark on your arm. Breaking into people’s flats, passing yourself off as me in order to steal something that belongs to us! You’ve been a menace to the Weasleys! And for what? So you can give the book to your lord and master? The very wizard who killed my parents and Sara’s as well? Malfoy, you refused my help more than once. Now you have to deal with the consequences of your own bad decisions.” The fear in Draco’s eyes was almost frightening. He locked them on Harry’s. “Potter.” he said with a shaky voice, “Don’t make me beg you. I need that book or I’m throwing myself off the roof of the tower.” Harry cocked his head to one side and pretended to consider his choices carefully. “I never meant to steal it in the first place! I stalled as long as I could. Tossing Weasley and Granger’s flat was just for show. I knew it wasn’t there. Granger brought hers here to Hogwarts.” “Could you throw yourself off someplace else? As much as I would enjoy that, it’s kind of creepy.” “This is serious! I can’t deal with the consequences of my choices, Potter! What, do you think? He’ll retaliate by yelling at me or giving me the silent treatment? Think of the most horrible things you could ever imagine, triple it, and you might comprehend one percent of what I’m trying to tell you.” Harry’s face turned serious. “Tell me, are you one of them?” “Are you kidding? Voldemort’s off his rockers. Besides, I live for myself. Not to better someone else.” Harry sighed. “You owe me big time.” Draco nearly collapsed with relief and gratitude.
With Roland locked in the room Sara once called her prison cell, Draco in the tower being watched over by Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore working on the new spell for the books, and Fawks on her way to Snape, Harry made his way through the cottage. He expected to hear the sounds of Elizabeth scrubbing something or running the vacuum, but there was only silence. He found her purse and a light spring jacket on the chair in the kitchen, but there was no sign of her. “Liz?” He called out, “It’s Harry!” No answer. Harry thought he would check the bedrooms, thinking maybe she had dozed off, which would irritate him to no end, but she wasn’t there either. He went back to the kitchen to check for any new sign of Sara. There was none, but an old note he had placed in the drawer of a nightstand was open on the table. It was the one that gave the password for the cave entrance. He found he wanted to run straight to the secret hatch under the almost finished house, but thought he would check on something first. He found the nearest telephone and dialed Brad Silverman’s law office in London. “It’s Harry Potter, sir, how are you?” “I’m fine, Harry. And yourself?” “Well, I just had a question. What agency is Elizabeth from? The housekeeper.” “Your Ministry arranged for her if I remember right. I thought it best to get someone who wouldn’t ask questions about things one might find in your house if you get my meaning.” “Of course. That’s all I needed to know, thank you Brad. And if you happen to speak to Sara, please tell her I miss her.” “Will do.” Harry hung up and made his way to the hatch, trying not to run. The stench hit him as he neared the labyrinth and he covered his nose with his shirt and grimaced in disgust. It was horrible and as he made his way through the tricky maze of solid stone walls it only got worse. He found her in only a few minutes and turned away from the corpse, propped against the wall and with at least a week of decay. He quickly recovered his senses, holding the shirt tight over his nose, he turned back to look at her and saw the message she had scrawled on the wall beside her. He said he’d kill my grandchildren I’m sorry He ran on through the maze, knowing she’d gotten lost in one of his more clever traps before she’d ever gotten to the book, or else she’d have been locked behind a ward outside the door to the room in which it was kept. Harry spoke the password and removed several wards and curses before he entered the room with the key he kept around his neck. He found the book alone on a table in the emptiness and tucked it into his robe before hurrying back to Elizabeth. He couldn’t just leave her here. He would have to conjure a stretcher and bring her to Hogwarts for transfer to the Ministry. And for them, some alterations would have to be made to the story of what had befallen her. They couldn’t tell the half corrupt Ministry about the books.
Snape arrived twenty minutes after the new books came by owl. Ron, who was glad to have his book back, was put in charge of the copying effort. Dumbledore was working Sara’s tuft of black hair into a shape like a wizard’s hat and Snape was off mixing a potion with her blood. Hermione was still working out the new spell, and Harry was alone with Draco. Harry had taken Malfoy to a comfortable room close to Dumbledore’s office where parents or visiting officials often waited. Elizabeth had been placed in a room off the infirmary and Harry was saddened and angered by her meaningless death. All over some books a few seventh year students had made and Roland‘s son gone for nearly two years now on account of them. At first he’d been outraged at Malfoy for associating with someone who would force an innocent old housekeeper into doing such a thing, but when he saw Draco’s exasperation he backed off. Emotions weren’t easily read on Draco, but Harry knew what to look for. Harry locked him in with a half-empty bottle of Finnegan’s Swill and a small, but friendly smile. He felt bad for giving Draco a hard time. He found he was glad to see him again. He found Snape returned and Dumbledore’s cone of black hair glowed with a golden light as it sat forgotten on the table. Hermione’s books, he saw, were all closed and piled up, pushed aside. Quills still scribbled like mad as Ron announced the copies were nearly ready and Harry took a nervous step toward the pensive. His fingers touched the brass of it’s cover. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Sara. Even in a memory. Hermione’s voice was unusually gentle. “Harry, you still have to touch your book. We’re ready as soon as you do.” Inside the pensive was the same as outside. It was the small table in Dumbledore’s office and Sara stood at one end of it, Smiling in her purple dress robe, a matching witch hat askew on her head. She had taken care not to include anyone else in her memory, so there were no doubles of them standing around the table. Smart on her part. No one ever thought of it, but it could all backfire if the books became confused with another spell being cast right next to them. The Orb was in the center of the table, though they couldn’t use a memory of it and wouldn’t even if they could. They had no need of such power. No, this time they would be concealing a magical gateway to Majorca. Harry was rooted to the spot, staring at Sara’s image. Her hair as she remembered it was much more blond than it actually had been and he wondered if it was a sign. Good or bad, he didn’t know. “Hurry up, Harry! We’ll have to start over!” Harry quickly took his place at the table, noticing Dumbledore had placed the glowing, cone-shaped nest of hair on top of “Sara’s” book and Snape dumped a small jar of red-silver, shimmering potion into it. It spun on it’s tip over the sign of the Elemental, having appeared with the addition of Snape’s strange liquid. They placed their wands on the books. They annunciated the spell as they had before, beginning with Hermione, then Harry, and there was a long pause before Sara spoke, her phantom hand on the solid book, the hair and potion spinning through the middle of it as if she was no more than vapor and Harry faltered at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t heard it since he’d found himself in Draco’s pensive a year and a half before and hearing it now awakened feelings he’d buried over time, wounds he thought had almost healed. As soon as Ron was finished speaking, light shot forth as it had before, tying the four books together in a brilliant rainbow of color. They uttered the new passwords, then Sara spoke and they all quickly joined her, for the gateway spell was supposed to be in unison and they fell neatly into rhythm. McGonegall was absent, but it really didn’t matter, so Dumbledore and Snape stepped forward and drew their wands. “Unitus!” All stood back as the pages fanned, then slammed shut. A moment later Harry’s book reopened and he smiled as it did as he’d hoped, showing the location of the other duplicate books. The answer to each was the same. “Pensieve.” They had barely gathered them up as Sara began to fade and Harry stared at her as long as he could. “Goodbye, Sara.” He whispered, and suddenly felt a hand on his arm and they were back in Dumbledore’s office. He found he couldn’t look at anyone, so Harry set to writing the new passwords on a small sheet of paper, which he stuck in between the pages of his book. This he handed to Dumbledore without an upward glance, then took Ron’s book and left the room. Draco was lounging on a high velvet couch, one leg on the floor, the other slung over the cushions. His hand held the small bottle of Swill, resting it against his chest. His free arm was draped over his eyes. “Potter, the Mark has come to the surface. I’m being called, you know. Please tell me you have the book.” He knew better than to tell Draco it was a placebo. If Draco knew, Voldemort would get it out of him. “I’m only giving this to you so that you’ll remember something important, Malfoy.” Draco peeked out from under his arm, “And what would that be? That you think I’m the greatest guy in the world and can’t live without me?” Draco gave a welcome smile. Harry chuckled. “That you have to do the right thing when the time comes.” “I’ll do my best, Potter.” Harry handed him the book. “Why is he after it anyway? Why didn’t he just make a port-key or something? I don‘t get it.” “Do you think he explains himself to me? I don’t know his reasons any better than you do.” “Well, I can’t see him wanting to read our ideas or the spells we learned at Hogwarts and got out of books that could be found in any library. He must be after the gateway, I just don’t understand why.” “Sorry, I can‘t help you.” “It wasn’t easy to get you know. Sara still refuses to come home.” “Why didn’t you just give me yours?” “Funny you should ask. It came up missing today. I had Hermione’s, but my housekeeper died trying to find it. I want to know why before I give it up. I had to give you Ron’s.” Draco climbed onto his feet, “Thanks, Potter. I guess I owe you one.” “Remember what I told you.” “I will. ‘Till we meet again?” “Goodbye, Malfoy. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “I’d die of boredom. Goodbye, Potter.” Malfoy smiled and passed into the hallway. Harry smiled back, but it fell from his face as he watched Draco leave, wishing there was something he could do.
Dearest Harry, I haven’t written much since I arrived in Romania last year. First I told myself it was because it was too painful to think of you so much and so honestly, to uncover and examine my innermost feelings as I poured my soul onto the pages. Then it was because I was too busy focusing on my lessons with Vanya, which she gives via the Orb in the form of a mental connection. Then Snape asked me to return to Hogwarts today and everything came flooding back. Over the time that has passed I grew numb inside, stopped feeling so strongly, like I was just drifting through my days, existing and nothing more. I nearly collapsed I think, from the simple pain of remembering you and knowing that you’re still waiting, even after nearly two years. He gave me a choice, go back or send him with blood and hair for an urgent spell. Create a pensieve. You know what I chose, as hard as it was, but then it wasn’t at all. I’m not ready to go home. There was no choice to make, really. Just a painful realization. Snape says people have tried to set you up on dates and that you hide in the tower for days afterward, alone and bitter. He said you ran into Cho Chang in Diagon Alley last summer and had lunch with her, but when she asked to see you again you politely declined, then didn’t show up for meals for three days. I worry about you, Harry. And you can’t imagine the guilt I feel when I think of how much I have hurt you. There have been many times when I thought I should return the ring to you, free you from this promise we made in love and ignorance. Not because I no longer love you, I love you more with every passing moment, but because it isn’t fair to hold you to it. I have been gone longer than I ever thought possible and the thought of trying to fit back into my old life seems unachievable. You seem like part of some wonderful dream I’d had long ago, and all that’s left is the misery that holds tight to me. Shields me from happiness. A part of me has died, shriveled and turned black. I can’t explain it, but there is a shadow over my heart and nothing can chase it away. To add to this, it is said that Vanya’s health is fading fast. She sleeps most of the time and we have to keep our exchanges short, for they sap her energy. I really only talk to her anyway, tell her not to be afraid, that I love her and that seems to help. She’s already taught me everything I need to know and now I fear the day she slips away. I don’t think she’ll make it to my 20th birthday. The legend isn’t exact, anyway, just an approximation. It could happen any time. I don’t know why I keep the ring. I don’t know why I haven’t written to you, telling you of my plans to stay on in Romania. My Grandmother left her house to me, which is where Vanya now lives, and I could picture myself here forever, surrounded by people who understand me completely, growing old all alone, causing no one any pain. Just existing without emotion until the day I fall away. Love Forever, Sara |
