Author's Note
It's absolutely pouring with rain as I write this - which I really shouldn't complain about, I know…so I won't. Here's lucky Chapter 13 - lucky, because at last you get a glimpse inside that book…
Janie xoxo
PS I've left Hermione as "Hermione Jane Granger" because that's how she's lived in my head for the past three years or so - "Hermione Jean Granger" just doesn't sound right…
SORCERERS' NOOK
By JanieB
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In which a tormented Muggle pleads for help, a murder is committed and Harry and Hermione visit the Armarium and make some rather startling discoveries when they finally begin to read the Book of Records…
When Harry and Hermione emerged from the library, the door locking itself securely behind them, they were surprised to see Minerva McGonagall and Alcott Brayden, the Minister for Magic, standing in the vestibule; they had apparently just arrived, as the gates of the lift were busy closing noisily behind them.
`Miss Granger, Mr Potter,' Professor McGonagall greeted them gravely, the Minister tipping his official looking black wizard's hat. Harry and Hermione stopped and greeted them, their faces revealing their curiosity.
`We are here,' said the Minister, his voice as grim as his expression, `to speak to you about this latest threat. Professor McGonagall owled me yesterday and I was most anxious to speak with you both myself.'
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. `We're more than happy to do so, Minister,' said Harry, looking from the Professor to the Minister and back again, `it's just that we've received an urgent memo from our friend, Neville Longbottom - he's waiting to see us.' He indicated the black door with a slight inclination of his head.
`Then by all means,' said the Minister, making a sweeping gesture with his hand in the direction of the black door, `let us first enter the Department of Magical Research, and seek out Mr Longbottom.'
*
Sitting demurely behind her reception desk, Lucy couldn't stop herself from glancing up curiously at the strange wizard who'd said his name was Neville Longbottom. She was sure it had been Neville Longbottom that Hermione had once brought into the Department - she remembered being rather taken with his gentle, reticent manner, which she'd found very charming. She glanced again at the middle-aged man as he sat down, uncertainty gnawing at her. Shuffling some memos in an attempt to look busy, Lucy continued to watch the visitor surreptitiously and saw him almost drop the Daily Prophet as soon as he'd picked it up and looked at the front page. It was as though he'd seen something completely unexpected, after which Lucy was positive he'd muttered to himself. Feeling a tiny tendril of alarm unfurl inside her, Lucy watched the strange wizard's mouth twist with fear and his face suddenly turn an awful, pasty-white colour; his clenched fists were squirming on his knees while glistening beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead.
Then Lucy unexpectedly found herself looking into two terrified grey eyes and blushed, quickly looking away. After a minute or so, when she'd heard no sound, she chanced a swift glance at the strange wizard; her stomach suddenly tried to tie itself in knots when she saw abject terror clearly etched on his face - and she knew his eyes hadn't left her for the last few minutes; it was as though he'd become a statue, frozen with fear.
While she was filled with trepidation and wondering what on earth was going on, a small brass bell on the corner of Lucy's desk rose off its round wooden base and rang as loudly as it could. Simultaneously, the words, "The Minister for Magic, Miss Hermione Granger and two visitors" appeared in loopy, silver writing on the back of the black door to Lucy's right.
Unnoticed, the wizard who had said he was Neville Longbottom made a peculiar, strangled sound as he staggered to his feet, his trembling hand reaching into his robes. As the door swung open and people began to file in, Lucy rose to her feet, greeting the Minister for Magic as he entered, he in turn tipping his head in her direction with a polite smile. Still unnoticed, Arnold sank back into his seat at the sight of the Minister, his eyes screwed shut in pain. Within seconds, however, he forced his eyes open; the owner of the terrible voice in his head wanted to see…
The Minister was followed by an elderly, black-haired witch who Lucy recognised immediately from her time at Hogwarts.
`Professor McGonagall,' she said respectfully, inclining her head.
`Lucy,' responded the Headmistress politely with a tiny smile, after a momentary glance down at the floating name plaque.
Lucy then smiled broadly as Hermione entered, although her smile faltered when her eyes moved beyond Hermione and came to rest on Harry, directly behind Hermione, his hand hovering just behind her waist in an unconsciously possessive gesture.
Hermione couldn't help but smile as Lucy gasped, her eyes widening and her cheeks reddening. Nor did Hermione need to turn around to know that Harry's expression would be part exasperation and part embarrassment, as the young witch stared at him. Looking around in an effort to avoid the gaze of the gaping young witch, Harry noticed that since he'd last been here, a screen had been erected around the reception area. He felt relieved as it meant that at least they weren't immediately visible to the rest of the department.
`Professor - Minister -' said Lucy breathlessly, `Hermione - I mean Miss Potter - no, Mr Granger!'
`I think,' said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, `that you should, as I've heard said, quit while you're ahead Miss Cloud.'
Lucy subsided into her chair, her face now as red as a post box, her arm sweeping awkwardly in the direction of Arnold as she said in a rush, `Hermione - Miss Granger - Mr Longbottom's waiting to see you.'
They all turned together, four pairs of eyes coming to rest on Arnold, who was now hunched miserably in his armchair across the room, his head in his hands, looking at the floor. The voice in his head had made a sound of disgust and sworn vilely at the sight of the Minister, his anger increasing when Professor McGonagall had appeared. When Harry walked in behind Hermione, however, Arnold barely had time to wonder why the sight of this particular man caused the entity in his head to experience an overwhelming surge of fury before he felt the searing pain tear through his head once more - the pain he'd been trying to avoid at all costs.
Harry, Hermione and Professor McGonagall spoke simultaneously: `That's not Neville Longbottom!'
There was a second of perfect silence, broken by Arnold's sudden, wracking sobs as his hands clutched at his head and he fell forward out of his chair to his knees.
`Please help me!' he cried piteously, one clawed hand reaching out towards them in a futile gesture. Then the air was rent by a dreadful scream as pain beyond bearing ripped through his whole body and he collapsed to the floor.
The Minister stood by, shocked and helpless, as Harry, Hermione and Professor McGonagall rushed to the stricken man's side.
`He's a Muggle!' exclaimed the Headmistress, shocked, as her wand passed over him from head to foot.
Arnold's pain-wracked screams were suddenly replaced with pitiful whimpering. When Harry spoke, his voice was cold and flat, his eyes fixed on Arnold's face. `He has a knife in his robes.'
`That's not possible!' squeaked Lucy, standing and straining to look over her desk. `It would've been picked up by the security charms!'
`Not when he's a Muggle. No one has yet found a way for magical security to work on Muggles,' said Hermione who found herself both horrified and fascinated by this man.
`I'll guarantee that knife is Muggle-made, too,' ground out Harry. His gaze met that of the headmistress across the now shivering, prostrate body of the sobbing man.
`We have to get him out of here,' hissed Harry, sensing some innate danger, `now!'
`Will you do it, Harry?' asked the Headmistress, looking at him steadily. `Will you put him in the holding cells?'
Harry knew what she was asking and he nodded, his expression grim, as he waved his hand; the pain-wracked, shaking man vanished with a sharp crack!
Everyone unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief as the man disappeared, shoulders slumping and crooked smiles appearing as they gazed uneasily at each other. The Minister quickly excused himself to go and check on the Muggle who was now their prisoner, and to explain to the guards how he'd suddenly appeared in one of the holding cells.
`Harry?' whispered Hermione.
Harry stood up, anger coursing through him as he contemplated what he knew to be an extremely close call. His face was etched with the tension he felt as he looked down at Hermione.
`He was going to kill you,' he said flatly, unable to stop the words from spilling out. He was barely able to contain his fear and anger at the thought of what might have happened. If Hermione had been alone…
Hermione stared at him. `How do you know that?' she asked faintly.
`It was clear in his mind - although it wasn't his idea,' replied Harry, his expression grim.
Hermione shivered, her gaze locked with Harry's. Voldemort had been the only wizard whose mind Harry had ever been able to access and she knew they were both thinking the same thing.
`The Dark One,' said Hermione in a hushed voice and Harry nodded as he said quietly, `It has to be - and it must be my old connection with Voldemort and Voldemort's with the Dark One that enabled me to sense what this poor fellow was thinking.'
`Potter, I think we should go and see this Muggle who was impersonating Longbottom,' said Professor McGonagall briskly. `I'm sure we all have a few questions for him.'
`I'll be coming, too, Professor,' said Hermione firmly, and her tone brooked no argument.
Lucy, the receptionist, had dropped back into her chair, dazed at what had just happened; she was still staring fixedly at Harry.
`Mr Potter,' she managed, `how did you - I mean, no one can - you're not supposed to -' she was pointing feebly at the spot where Arnold had been.
`It's perfectly all right, Lucy,' said Professor McGonagall. `You don't need to worry yourself about anything. I don't doubt the Minister will be looking at ways to set up separate security measures so that Muggles, too, will be detected in future - if that's possible. Although it is virtually unheard of for Muggles to gain access into the Ministry. You just go back to your work, we're leaving now.'
Despite nodding, Lucy looked as though she hadn't taken in a word of what the Professor had said as she watched them depart, her eyes wide and staring.
Less than ten minutes later, Harry, Hermione and the Professor stepped out of the lift onto Level Two, which housed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The heavy oak doors - behind which lay the Aurors' Headquarters - were directly ahead of them; today, however, they entered a single oak door on their right. This door led to Law Enforcement division's holding cells and when they entered, they found the Minister and the Guardwizard on duty were waiting for them, their expressions grim; the Guardwizard's eyes flicked to Harry - automatically seeking out his scar - before staring at Harry with a mixture of awe and curiosity.
`I'm afraid,' said the Minister heavily, `that the Muggle is dead.'
Hermione and Professor McGonagall both gasped quietly while Harry swore under his breath.
`Rogers, here,' said the Minister as he indicated the guard, `heard the Muggle's arrival and ran to the cell to see what was going on. It was too late - he was already dead.'
`I don't suppose it'll tell us anything, but we will find out who he was, won't we?' asked Harry.
Rogers nodded, then as though he was unable to stop himself, he burst out with, `Did you Apparate him here, sir?'
Harry nodded. `I'm sorry about that - but I believed he was dangerous, he had a knife. I had no choice.'
Rogers shook his head, gazing at Harry with admiration. `I didn't think it was possible to do that!'
`Don't sound too impressed, Rogers,' said the Minister dryly. `It's going to take a bit of work to fix the protector charms that Harry's put out of commission doing what he did. The fellows in the Security and Protection Division won't be impressed, I can assure you.'
`Maybe not with fixing the charms,' muttered Rogers to himself, `but they're supposed to be impenetrable…'
`Can we see the Muggle?' Harry asked the Minister.
`Of course,' he nodded, and led the way down through another door to a stone corridor which had barred cells on either side, torches crackling in sconces on the wall between each one.
Rogers fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a key as they drew level with the third cell on the left which was illuminated with dingy, yellow light from a small, high magical window; it contained only a single, metal, four-poster bed with no drapes which was pushed up against the wall to the right. Lying on it was a body, whose outline could be seen through the sheet that had been hastily drawn over it. Rogers inserted the key into the lock and turned it, muttering something under his breath. The key seemed to glow for a second, then Rogers withdrew it, walking backwards as he pulled the door open. The Minister stood aside so that Harry, Hermione and the Professor could enter the small, gloomy cell.
Harry dropped to one knee beside the bed and pulled the sheet back. Hermione and the Professor, who were both standing behind him, grimaced and turned their faces away.
Arnold's face was set in a rictus of horrific pain; his open, staring eyes, even in death, held echoes of horror and pleading.
`Poor wretch,' said the Minister who was now standing behind Professor McGonagall.
The Professor straightened, waiting until Harry had replaced the sheet over Arnold's face and stood up before speaking.
`I think, Mr Potter, we need to convene a meeting at Hogwarts as soon as possible. Friday may be too late.'
*
After agreeing with the Professor to a meeting at Hogwarts the following evening, which she assured them she would arrange, Harry and Hermione returned to the library. On the way, they discussed what they hoped to find in Verity's book. After entering the library once more, they walked in silent unison to the very back of the large room, Hermione leading the way. When they reached a pair of midnight blue doors, Harry found himself gazing at a modest, carved wooden plaque affixed to the left-hand door. In gold inlay it read simply, "Armarium". Hermione took out her wand and tapped it on the door three times.
`This won't take too long,' she assured Harry.
A deep, resonant voice that reminded Harry of Kingsley Shacklebolt sounded from within the doors themselves.
`Please state your full name.'
`Hermione Jane Granger.'
`Please state the three passwords in the correct order.'
`Ineo. Ingressio. Insisto.'
`Which object do you wish to view?'
`Object number seven-one-three.'
Harry heard a distant rumbling that brought to mind the sound of a train in the distance. After less than a minute, the left-hand door swung smoothly and noiselessly open, and Harry attempted to peer past Hermione into the room beyond. He could see nothing, however, as the room appeared to be filled with a bright, all-encompassing light. He saw Hermione step forward and instinctively reached out to grab her arm and pull her back, but she was gone - disappearing into the light as though it had swallowed her up. He tentatively put his outstretched hand towards the open door, but couldn't put it through the doorway - it was as though there was an invisible barrier. He ignored an impulsive urge to force his way in, pulling his hand back instead. As he waited, the tension he was feeling increased with each minute that ticked by.
Where is she? This was the thought that passed through his head at roughly ten second intervals and just as he was contemplating taking out his wand and blasting the door, or barrier - or whatever it was - to smithereens, Hermione reappeared with a black box clutched to her chest. As she stepped out of the room, the door to the Armarium closed on her heels with a dignified snap.
Harry felt relief course through him at the sight of her and realised only then the extent of his apprehension. `Took a while,' he said, smiling weakly.
Hermione looked at him in surprise. `It was only a couple of minutes,' she said.
For you! thought Harry as he shrugged and smiled for her benefit. It felt like a bloody lifetime on this side of that damn door!
`Come on, we'll go into the reading room,' said Hermione as she turned and headed to her left, Harry following her to a small alcove with a single square wooden table surrounded by eight chairs. They sat down side by side, Hermione placing the box on the table with care. She removed the lid of the box then looked at Harry. He nodded, then reached out and lifted a large, thick, leather-bound book out. As Hermione pushed the box out of the way, Harry put the book on the table in front of them, commenting, `It doesn't feel as though it's anything more than just a book.'
In the centre of the table was a writing box and Hermione reached over and removed two pieces of parchment, one for herself and one for Harry; Harry noticed the parchment held a Ministry of Magic watermark. There were quills in stands and inkpots set along the side of the writing box and Hermione deftly flipped open the small lid of one of the pots and picking up a quill, dipped it into the ink. She nudged Harry and indicated with a nod that he should do the same.
`We should write notes as we go,' she told him, underlining her heading which read: Verity Leigh's Book of Records - Notes - HJG - Tuesday, 15th July.
Harry hastily scribbled the date before returning the quill to its stand and sitting back, studying the book. It was a tooled leather volume and the leather - no doubt due to some charm - still looked soft and almost new. The name, Book of Records, was etched into the leather. Looking at Hermione sitting to his right, Harry said softly, `Ready?'
Hermione met his gaze and nodded. Harry lifted his right hand and grasped the edge of the cover, lifting it slowly. Two pairs of eyes, one brown, one bright green, eagerly scanned the page that was revealed as Harry carefully placed the cover down on the table. The inside of the cover was bare, but on the front page, there was an inscription, `This Book of Records was first begun by Oswyn Riley. It shall remain in the possession of the Riley Family by Magical Decree.'
`Keep going,' whispered Hermione impatiently.
Harry turned the page and they both sat back, gasping in surprise. A full page portrait of a handsome, yet fierce-looking black wizard was glaring at them.
Harry's eyes dropped to the caption at the bottom of the page. `That's Oswyn Riley,' he said quietly.
Hermione nodded. `Next,' she said quickly as though she couldn't wait to turn the page on the scowling wizard; Harry didn't blame her, Oswyn Riley certainly didn't look very friendly at all.
The next page was a contents page - although not like the usual contents page you find in a book. This page listed various battles and historical events in the magical world, giving instructions on the simple charm necessary to find that particular event in the book as well as a spell to enable it to be viewed.
`I've seen similar things in other, old magical books,' Hermione told Harry, `but not quite so sophisticated. I wonder how the entries are able to be viewed?'
Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. `Don't wonder now, Hermione. Let's just worry about trying to find which event might give us any clues about the Dark One.'
Hermione gave him an answering smile before they both looked back down at the page. However, nothing they read seemed to suggest anything other than the usual battles and rebellions, many of which they'd heard Professor Binns drone on about during their years at Hogwarts.
`Next page,' said Hermione, although the next page, to their disappointment, proved no more enlightening. Nor the next, or the one after that.
`How many pages of contents are there?!' cried Harry, feeling distinctly exasperated. He was beginning to realise he'd been counting on finding some miraculous entry in the book that would explain everything.
`There may not be anything in here that will help,' Hermione reminded him. `Although there are so many entries, it would take an age to go through them all!'
It was on the eighth page of contents that they came across the final entry. It was different from all the other entries in that it didn't involve a battle, war, fight or rebellion or the story of some uprising or return of evil - it simply said, "My Family."
Harry and Hermione exchanged puzzled glances. `We have to have a look,' said Harry, his tone determined, and Hermione nodded, as curious as Harry. Harry took out his wand and did as instructed to read the relevant pages.
The book began to glow with a misty light, then trembled as the pages flipped over in such quick succession they were a blur. It was nearly at the end of the thick book that the pages became still once more and a heading in large, black print announced, "My Family". They both instinctively leaned forward to read the small writing beneath the heading and without even realising it, Hermione began reading out loud…
`Monday, 20th April.
My mother handed me this book some months ago. I knew that her doing so meant my father was dead. She explained he'd been killed by Death Eaters. But I haven't had the heart to make any entries before today. I know that I am supposed to continue recording the history of the war against Voldemort as experienced by our family. However, I don't doubt that everything will be documented by others far more capable than I at such things. And so I have decided to write about my family, because it is my family that matters to me more than anything else in the world. I found out only yesterday that my mother, too, has been murdered by Death Eaters. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has become so powerful, I fear for Wizardkind. He has minions and slaves everywhere, and where he doesn't, he has used the Imperius Curse so that no witch or wizard feels safe any longer. No one can trust another, not even their own family members. Every day, more innocent people are dying - including Muggles. My beloved wife, Alma, whom I've never burdened with the knowledge of my Wizard ancestry, and my baby son, Dean, whom I love more than life itself, are both in dire danger. Because of me. And even more so because I am an Auror. Voldemort's followers are always trying to recruit or enslave others and I know it won't be long before I am approached. It is rumoured Voldemort particularly desires Aurors to join his ranks, although none have done so as yet. Apparently he is unaware of the hidden strengths of Aurors. It is becoming so dangerous for my family, and my darling Alma doesn't even know about this danger. I fear my only recourse is to simply leave so that the Death Eaters follow me, and leave Alma and Dean alone. I can only hope.
`Monday, 1st June.
I have left my home to keep Alma and Dean safe. I didn't even dare tell her this morning that when I left that I wouldn't be home tonight. If I tried to explain why, I would have to tell her I'm a wizard. That information in itself would be a lot for her to handle, and if I then told her that we are all in danger because I am a wizard… I just can't ask that much of her. I do know that she wouldn't let me go - she would want us to see this through, as a family. She is the bravest woman I know. I love her so much and I love our little boy. My heart is breaking - but I remain certain that leaving is the only way I can help them to stay alive.
`Monday, 22nd June.
I am still in the room I took at the Leaky Cauldron when I left my home. Last night, when I was downstairs eating dinner, I was approached by a stranger who claimed to be looking for a wizard named Alfred Riley. He assured me Tom had shown him the guest register in total confidence. He'd seen an "A. Riley" registered and asked Tom to point me out, thinking I was the one he sought. He told me his name is Colby. He never explained why he was looking for "A. Riley". I don't believe a word he says. I sense he is a Death Eater and he ensures his arms are totally covered at all times. I assured him I was not the Riley he was looking for, then excused myself and returned here, to my room. I haven't left it since last night. I plan to leave the Cauldron this evening after dinner. I will say nothing to Tom and hope that Colby - or whatever his real name is - will believe in his innocence. I will head north - away from London, even further away from my family.
`Monday, 6th July.
Yesterday was Dean's first birthday. My little son is one year old and I haven't seen him for more than a month. I haven't held my wife. I feel such enormous pain at having left without an explanation, but I know the pain would be unbearable should anything happen to them. I am moving almost every night now so that they can't find me - and I know they're after me. Voldemort's Death Eaters and followers seem to be everywhere - even in the Muggle establishments I am now frequenting in an effort to avoid them. I will take as many of them with me as I can when the time comes, as I know it will eventually. They are getting closer. I can see the change in the Muggle innkeeper here - I'm certain he is now under the Imperius Curse. I will try to leave here before sunrise tomorrow, but I wonder about the two new guests I saw at the desk this afternoon when I came back from the village. My sixth sense tells me they are Voldemort's men.
`Monday, 31st August.
I can hardly believe my luck. Somehow, I have managed to keep ahead of Voldemort's minions. And my family are still alive and well. I managed to get an owl to my good friend, Caradoc Dearborn, whom I had hoped remained untouched by the Imperius Curse. It appears Cary is still himself, as only this morning I received his return owl in which he has told me as much as possible about the current situation with Voldemort. The deaths continue on a daily basis, and it appears Voldemort is now after James and Lily Potter, although Cary doesn't say why. I remember James in particular from Hogwarts - he was brilliant on a broom - an outstanding Quidditch player. I saw his first game when I was in my fifth year. Cary tells me that James and his wife are both members of the Order, just as he is; I pray that this may ensure their safety - Dumbledore is a formidable ally.'
Harry and Hermione both lifted their heads slowly and stared at each other.
`Dear mother of Merlin,' whispered Hermione, shocked. `This was written in the months before your parents were killed, Harry.'
Harry nodded, unable to speak, his face as white as parchment.
As one, their gazes returned to the book, and Hermione continued reading, her voice low.
`Monday, 14th September.
I have managed to procure some Polyjuice Potion and I am currently staying in a small flat where I have begun brewing some more with the ingredients an old friend managed to get to me. As do all Aurors, I have a selection of hairs in my work kit for just this purpose. I am using those of an old Muggle who died some years ago now, although I don't know what his name was; I am calling myself Jeffrey Cox.
`Monday, 5th October.
Despite the fact that this book is charmed to appear each Monday, wherever I may be, I have not had the heart to make entries every Monday. I am doing everything I can to survive, simply so that I can get back to my family some time in the future. It is hard - so horribly hard - to stay away from them and to not even send Alma a letter to let her know I'm all right. I feel heartsick at what she might be thinking of me. I choke back tears at the thought that my little son may forget me. Yet I must resist the temptation to communicate with them - my sleep is filled with nightmares of what would happen to them if Voldemort or his followers captured them, especially since my wife is a Muggle.
`Monday, 25th October.
I received another owl from Caradoc late last night - he ensures his owls always arrive in the middle of the night so as to avoid detection. He says that Severus Snape is now teaching at Hogwarts. It is beyond my comprehension as to why Dumbledore would employ a rumoured Death Eater, but Cary says that Dumbledore vouches for Snape. I hope he's right to do so - the thought of a Death Eater loose at Hogwarts is enough to scare anyone witless, Dumbledore aside.
`Monday, 9th November.
I can scarcely believe it! Cary owled me last night - he says Voldemort is dead! His letter was short as things are, understandably, rather chaotic at the Ministry. He says the Potters were betrayed by their friend, Sirius Black - that Black told Voldemort where the Potters could be found and Voldemort himself went to their home to kill them - including their little boy who is apparently around Dean's age. Something went wrong though, and while James and his wife were murdered, their son, Harry, survived the Killing Curse. I don't understand how this is possible - how could a baby survive the Killing Curse? How could anyone survive it? Yet Cary assures me it is so. He advises me to stay undercover a little longer. Despite the general wizarding population's wild celebrations, there are still Death Eaters roaming around, intent on murderous revenge.
`Monday, 23rd November.
Finally, last night, an owl from Cary - it has been two weeks since I heard from him. It held dreadful news - the Longbottoms were captured by Death Eaters! First Frank and then Alice were tortured by them in an attempt to find out where Voldemort is - his followers refuse to believe he's gone, saying it's impossible. Frank and Alice are in St Mungo's - I will pray for their recovery. They are a truly devoted couple and exemplary Aurors. They dote on their little boy as I dote on Dean. We even talked about the time they will attend Hogwarts together [I'm sure Dean will be a wizard], and I imagine James's little boy will be there with them, too. Despite this, I am growing impatient - if Voldemort is truly gone, I want to go home to my family! Cary says they are hoping to arrest those responsible for Frank and Alice's deaths shortly. I desperately want to help!
`Monday, 21st December.
I have been travelling south and I am now in a small village in Kent called Harminster Leigh. I am taking this circuitous route as I feel sure I am still being followed. Tonight is my first night in this flat I've taken. It's in a quaint building with an equally quaint name: Sorcerers' Nook. I am here as myself as I am once more out of Polyjuice Potion. I know from Cary's last owl, which arrived last Sunday week, they've arrested those responsible for Frank and Alice's torture - he says they will be convicted and sent to Azkaban within days. I was shocked to find out that Barty Crouch's own son was one of them! I am hoping that very soon I will be able to return home. The couple in the portrait over the fireplace in the front room spoke to me this afternoon. The old lady, Verity, is a little too gushy in my eyes, but her husband, Emrys, seems a nice fellow. They tell me they originally built the Nook and loved it so much, that even when they died they didn't want to leave it!
`Monday, 28th December.
I feel as though my heart is bleeding within me. Emrys and Verity - the old couple in the portrait - have told me that two strangers came in this morning and that the landlord, Hugo Wilkes, is now under the Imperius Curse - they saw it happen. The strangers are staying upstairs in Flat 2 - I don't know what they've done to poor Mrs Phipps (an elderly witch who was living in that flat). I feel such dreadful anger and hatred towards these cursed dark wizards who are keeping me from my family! Emrys says that I should flee - but I am tired of running and hiding. I will fight these evil devils and I will survive - I WILL see my wife and son again! I am giving Emrys and Verity this book for safekeeping. I have decided what I will do - I will tell Wilkes I am going for a walk down by the stream. He will pass this information to the two strangers and they will come after me, I'm certain. But I will ambush them; I will know they're coming, but they won't know I'm waiting for them. And then, finally, I will be free to go home to my family.'
Harry turned the page, but there were no further entries. A smallish square of paper was tucked into the centre of the book though, and Harry automatically reached for it. Without stopping to read what was written on it, he turned it over to see if there was anything on the other side. A hoarse cry escaped him and Hermione grasped his hand and turned it towards her so that she could see what had made him exclaim. Hermione gasped, her eyes going from the photograph Harry held to Harry's face to find that he was staring back at her.
`Harry,' she whispered, `that's Dean's mother! And the baby she's holding - it must be Dean! But that man with them is not his father and yet he looks like Dean! How is that possible?'
Harry slowly shook his head. `I have no idea, Hermione. But I think we need to speak to Emrys and Verity as soon as possible.' He looked at the photograph once more. It showed a slender, pretty black woman - still easily recognisable as Dean's mother - cradling a tiny baby wrapped in a blue blanket. Standing beside her, with one arm around her shoulders, his other cradling the baby with his wife, was a tall, striking black man who bore an unmistakeable resemblance to Dean Thomas. He turned the photograph back over. Written in the same neat script as that of the entries was, "The Riley family - Alex, Alma and Dean - 16th August".
TO BE CONTINUED…
Author's Note
OK, now here's the bad news *gulp*. I have my darling dad staying with me this week from the country, then I'm going away for the weekend, next weekend…which doesn't sound like bad news, in fact it's not really, it's actually very good. But it means I won't be able to update next Thursday or Monday *Janie drops to the floor and peeks over the top of her keyboard, eyes darting here and there fearfully* But I swear on my hard drive that I will post next Thursday week!! I just can't bring myself to post a chapter that I haven't given a proper going over and enough thorough revision to make me happy (which I won't be here to do, you see…) I'm so sorry!!! (I didn't want to tell you this at the beginning of the chapter in case it distracted you.) So please bear with me - I will be back! *waves hopefully* Janie xoxo
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