Chapter 26: A Conversation
"Your assignment..."
I looked out over the third-year class I'd just finished teaching, all of them watching me attentively.
""...is to write an essay on the methods of learning non-verbal magic. I spoke about it today, so please don't mention the two methods I described. Find others. For reference, you might look at: Silent Magic: Advantages and Disadvantages by Hyperion Black; Magic Without Words by Alastor Moody; and Wordless Magic by Mikhail Koscheyev."
The class was scribbling down the titles.
"That will do for today, unless Professor Flitwick has anything to add?"
I half-turned to the professor, who shook his head. This had become a standard question at the end of every lesson, and the answer was almost always the same. On a handful of occasions he had added something, suggesting further reading or asking certain students to write a more detailed piece. But he had never corrected me on the substance of a lesson, which was gratifying.
The bell rang and I gave the students a nod as they began gathering their things.
"Mr. Black, you're free this evening as well. In honor of the occasion, I'm giving you a rest from your usual training sessions."
I gave an understanding nod.
"Thank you, Master."
I didn't agree with this in the slightest. In fact, I disagreed entirely, but I held my tongue.
I collected my things, left the classroom, and walked at an easy pace toward the tower. Today was Halloween, and Hogwarts was thick with the smell of pumpkin, enough to make me slightly nauseous, which was reason enough to walk quickly.
"Draco, hi..."
Dora came running up to me and I had no choice but to stop.
"Hello, Pink Thing."
"Hey!"
A trace of hurt crept into Dora's voice.
"I've told you before: I dislike your attempts to parody someone and present a worse version of yourself than you actually are. And as long as you keep doing it, I'll keep calling you Pink Thing."
"Draco..."
Her voice carried a plea.
"Dear sister, as I've already told you, for a Metamorphmagus..."
Students passing in the corridor were beginning to glance our way with interest.
"...that particular trick won't help you. There will always be idiots about, so all you need is to learn a few specific transformations. The next time someone tries to put something where it doesn't belong..."
By now, everyone in the school knew she had been nearly assaulted. She didn't like my phrasing, but she didn't shout at me for it. I wasn't the one who had told everyone. That had been Dumbledore.
"...at the last moment, transform the relevant area into a toothed mouth, and simply bite it off."
The boys listening nearby flinched visibly.
"A few such removals and the idiots will thin out considerably."
"Draco!"
"What?"
"I..."
She dropped her gaze to the floor.
"...I have already learned to do that. I still prefer not to go looking for trouble, though."
"Well..."
I shrugged.
"...that is for you to decide, Pink Thing."
"You're impossible... I came to you on actual business, and you..."
She shook her head, but I knew she understood the conversation was necessary, however unpleasant she found it. It had been my mother, after all, who had thought of it as a way to keep her safe.
"Business?"
"Yes."
"And what is it, then, my businesslike sister?"
"My combat magic instructor suggested I spar with you, to get a sense of where I need to improve. You were trained by Aunt Bella, after all."
"I don't mind... though I'd rather not duel just for the sake of it. Come tomorrow..."
I thought for a moment and named a time shortly before my training session with Flitwick was due to begin.
"...to Professor Flitwick's classroom. We can have our spar there."
"All right."
She nodded.
"Is that all?"
"Yes..."
She turned and hurried off. I hurried after her, dropping my things in the tower before making for the Great Hall for lunch.
"Hello, everyone."
I nodded to my usual company, whom I had not seen all day, with the exception of Daphne, who had trained with me that morning.
"Hey..."
Everyone answered in fairly lively tones, Harry included. I looked at him for a moment, thoughtful.
"What?"
"Nothing..."
I decided not to spoil the day for him, though I was tempted to point out that he was celebrating on the anniversary of his parents' deaths. But no. Let the boy have his day. He would work it out for himself in time... possibly.
"Just thinking."
"Right..."
Harry shrugged and returned to his conversation with Hermione. Daphne, however, caught my eye, and I could see from her expression that she knew what I had almost said, and had been thinking the same thing herself.
"What are your plans for the afternoon?"
"McGonagall's set us an extra session. We're practicing wand movements for another spell, so we're off to see her."
I nodded understandingly.
"Good luck with that. I have my own plans, so..."
"Yeah, you're off to study again..."
Tracy gave a dry huff, and the rest of the group chuckled at my enthusiasm for books. Though we were all Ravenclaws, and all inclined that way, even Harry had been spending considerably more time reading since he had fallen in with our group, though he still lagged behind the others.
"Among other things, yes..."
I nodded, and we carried on talking about nothing in particular for the rest of the meal.
"Right then..."
I looked carefully around. After lunch I had gone straight up to the eighth floor, found the portrait of the troll in a tutu, walked past it thinking of a place where something could be hidden, and here I was.
"...I have a great deal of work ahead of me."
I put on my glasses, then immediately pulled them off. The entire room was saturated with magic, practically made of it, and making any sense of where a particular object might be was simply beyond me at my current level of understanding of magical weaves.
I moved through the room, looking around. I was searching for the diadem where Voldemort had hidden a fragment of his soul. I should have come here earlier, but until today I simply hadn't had the time.
Step by step, turn by turn, past heap after heap of discarded objects.
Things had been accumulating here for not just decades, but most likely centuries.
"Blast. How is anyone supposed to find anything in here?"
"Are you looking for something?"
I jumped at the quiet, composed voice from directly behind me.
"Good heavens, Lady Helena. Must you startle people like that?"
The ghost of Ravenclaw House looked at me with mild displeasure and tension. Clearly, she wasn't happy to find me here. She didn't answer my question. She simply continued to stare at me.
"Yes. I've learned that a very dangerous cursed object is hidden here...
"...and I want to find it and store it somewhere safe."
"What object?"
"Your mother's diadem."
Helena's ghost gave a faint start.
"What do you want with it? You want to use it?"
Emotion had entered her voice, but it was nothing like warmth or a desire to help. She was growing angry.
"No. As I said, the diadem is cursed, and I want to remove the curse. Unfortunately, the only method currently available to me would require destroying it, and I would strongly prefer not to do that. So I want to take it to my home and keep it somewhere secure. Once I've acquired enough skill to lift the curse properly, I intend to return it to Hogwarts as a relic of my House."
"I don't believe you."
"I'm not asking you to believe me..."
I shrugged.
"...I'm only asking you not to stand in my way. You made your own mistake once, didn't you?"
Helena flinched slightly, and a trace of fear and guilt crossed her face.
"Now I am simply asking you not to hinder me as I try to correct it."
"Correct it? Ha, you know nothing..."
"...you know nothing about me, or about the mistake I made. Nothing at all!"
"I do know... I know enough. I know that you stole your mother's diadem, but you seem to believe that she hated you for it and blamed you for everything. She did not. I have several books at home written by people who lived in your time and your mother's time. In every one of them, even after you left to seek knowledge, for that is how your mother spoke of your departure, she did not view it as a theft. She always spoke of you with a very warm and gentle smile."
"Enough!"
"If you do not believe me, we could perform a simple summoning ritual. I am no necromancer, but even my current knowledge is sufficient to call a reflection of your mother's soul..."
She recoiled, drifting several feet away.
"No..."
Genuine fear filled Helena's voice.
"Surely you are not afraid of hearing that she forgives you? That all she ever wanted was for you to be happy?"
"Be quiet!"
"Very well..."
I shrugged.
"...I will say no more. All I ask is that you do not hinder me."
I held her gaze for a few seconds, then turned and continued searching. Glancing back, I could see her drifting after me, her lips pressed together as though she were wrestling with herself.
Step by step... heap by heap... pile by pile...
Books, statuettes, medallions, broken desks and chairs, broomsticks, cauldrons. Everything imaginable was crammed in here. Even a pair of paintings lay propped against a pile.
"She... she truly spoke of me warmly?"
A fragile note of hope crept into Helena's voice. I stopped and turned to face the ghost, a girl nervously twisting the fabric of her dress between her fingers.
"Yes, or at least that is what the books written by your mother's contemporaries, held in my family's library, tell us."
"I... when the Baron ran me through, I thought... I thought she had sent him..."
"She did send him, but she sent him to bring you home. Again, I cannot be entirely certain of this, but that is what the books say."
"But he..."
"On that particular point I have nothing to offer. It may have been his own decision; it may have been a confluence of circumstances; it may have been something else entirely..."
I gave a small shrug, conveying that I had no way of knowing what had driven the Bloody Baron to do what he had done.
"It is... very hard to believe any of this..."
"I have already said that I can attempt to summon a reflection of your mother. It is not her soul, it is more like an imprint she has left in the world's informational sphere. What is more, if you were to provide me with a portrait of your mother, I could attempt to bind that reflection into the portrait, and then you could speak with her whenever you wished."
The girl went still and stared at me in open shock.
"You can do that?"
"Not at present..."
I shook my head.
"...it is beyond me now. But it would not have to be me. I could ask Mother Bella to perform the relevant rituals, though that would require you to leave Hogwarts. If that is not possible for you, then it would have to wait. Perhaps by the beginning of next year, if my mother applies herself rigorously to my training, I may be able to manage it myself."
"All right... I'll wait... and afterwards I'll tell you where the diadem is hidden."
"I can find it myself, you know..."
"No, you can't find it on your own. But at the start of next year, if you summon a reflection of my mother and bind it into a portrait, I'll help."
"Very well. That's an agreement."
I looked at Helena with complete seriousness.
"An agreement."
She gave a single, short nod. With a quiet sigh, I made my way out of the Room of Requirement. It wasn't that I had given up entirely on finding the diadem myself. I would try again before the year was out, but I wouldn't press the search quite so hard.
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