As he sipped a goblet of pumpkin juice, Harry surveyed the students sitting around the rectangular table that had been placed in his private apartments. Bellatrix had seated herself opposite him at an end of the table and was in the process of conversing with one of the Parkinson girls. Harry did not recall ever seeing Bellatrix's acquaintance in the future, but he did recognize a lot of the others sitting around the table. Some of them were talking to each other while others didn't seem anxious to socialize.
Harry didn't know enough about the entertaining of guests to assess appropriately whether Bellatrix had seated the guests well, but he wished that she had not seated Lucius Malfoy at his left and Rodolphus Lestrange on his right. Rodolphus and Lucius didn't seem to be very pleased with the arrangement either. Oddly, they were directing their uncomfortable stares at each other rather than at Harry.
"Tell me Professor," Rodolphus said in a low, silky voice, "how well do you know the Malfoy family?"
"I've only recently made their acquaintance," Harry admitted candidly. "I'm afraid I can't say that I know Lucius or his mother very well, but I've shared a few drinks with Romulus."
"I see," Rodolphus intoned, his eyes briefly flickering in Lucius's direction.
"I look forward to acquainting myself further with the Malfoys," Harry lied smoothly, attempting to extend the conversation. To bolster the statement he turned his head to Lucius. "You'll be leaving Hogwarts in just a few months, Lucius. Do you have any plans for what you're going to be doing when there is no more homework to do?"
"I think Lucius has political aspirations," Rabastan Lestrange announced from his seat which was had been placed next to his brother, Rodolphus.
"Really?" Harry asked, pretending to be surprised and intrigued. "The Ministry or perhaps even the Wizengamot?"
"The Wizengamot," Malfoy ground out from between clenched teeth.
Harry supposed that Lucius must be insulted that anyone could think he would associate himself with the plebian Ministry bureaucrats. He hid a small smile. "Is there much you can do with the Wizengamot if your father is actively holding your family seat?"
"A family seat is a family affair," Lucius replied.
"I suppose it is," Harry acknowledged, wondering just how much Lucius 's ideals paralleled with those of his father, Romulus. Will Lucius become a problem even while his father is still alive? Harry wondered. Or will the old man keep Lucius on a leash?
"Tell me," Rodolphus said, "has the Ashworth family enjoyed their time in Australia?"
"More or less," Harry replied glibly. "Some of us have found more success than others. Every family seems to have those who are lacking in… ambition as well as those who reek of it."
"Where do you fall?" Rodolphus asked, perhaps a little too boldly.
Harry twisted his lips into a crooked smile. "I don't lack ambition. What I lack is what you might call an outlet for my energies. Australia is a rather dim place. Most folks are there to find ways to make money. There just isn't a sense of heritage-no respect for the old ways. I'm hoping to find a richer culture-as well as some good career prospects."
"Is that what brought you to Britain?" Rabastan questioned.
"Pretty much," Harry said.
"I don't think you're on the right track," Rabastan announced while Rodolphus frowned. Apparently he felt that his brother was being too familiar with Harry.
"Oh?" Harry said.
"Unless Professor Slughorn dies before returning next year, you're automatically out of a job, aren't you?" Rabastan said.
"Yes, that's the sum of it," Harry agreed, trying to think of a way to give off the impression that he might have talents that Voldemort's future followers could appreciate. "I am skilled though. It's a shame that the Defense post won't be open for some years yet. In my travels I've come across all sorts of things that would be useful. I'm quite good in that area."
"Better than at Potions?" Rodolphus asked in what Harry construed to be a slightly snide tone of voice.
"Much better," Harry said. At this point, he decided that it would be better to end the topic at hand. It was enough that the Lestranges and Lucius knew that he was interested in opportunities ; he did not want to leave the impression that he was desperate. "I've heard so much about you two, Rodolphus and Rabastan, but I've never heard a word about either of your parents. What do they do?"
Rodolphus's lips thinned and his face tightened. "They travel."
"I see," Harry replied slowly. Apparently it was a sensitive topic. He really was curious, but he didn't need to make the Lestrange brothers unhappy.
The remainder of the evening passed without incident. Harry had managed to talk to each guest for a few moments, asking about their families, their ambitions, and their interests. Bellatrix had suggested that he do that and then pursue conversation any that he thought might be key to his plans. Unfortunately, Harry had not been able to go the extra step with any but the Lestranges and Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle had been potential candidates for conversation, but after Goyle couldn't seem to remember precisely what his ambitions were, Harry decided that neither would be worth his effort.
Eventually, Bellatrix was able to escort the last guest, Crabbe's clingy sister, out the door. She closed the door and let out a sigh of relief. "Having guests is delightful, but seeing them finally leave is often just as wonderful," she declared.
"I don't know if all of this was worth it or not," Harry said tiredly as he moved toward one of his couches and sat down on it. "I mean, I was able to strengthen my acquaintance with the Lestranges and Lucius Malfoy, but I'm not sure I accomplished anything else."
Bellatrix walked to the table that had held their dinner. The remains of the meal had disappeared, but a pitcher of wine remained. Harry could not recall ever seeing the house elves serve wine, but he supposed Bellatrix must have ordered it specially. "You accomplished much," Bellatrix countered as she poured herself a goblet of wine. "The students will tell their parents about tonight. They'll be flattered that a professor took personal interest in their child. At the very least, it will give you room to claim acquaintance with them because you singled out their children."
"That's true," Harry admitted thoughtfully.
"You might want to write a few notes about tonight while you can remember everything," Bellatrix said. She placed her goblet on a table next to the couch and walked over to a small desk. In a drawer, she found writing utensils. "They'll come in handy later-at least if you have any forewarning. Everyone loves nothing better than being remembered."
Harry sighed. "You make it sound so mercenary."
Bellatrix returned from the desk and sat down on the couch next to Harry. "That's because it is, Harry."
"Bugger!" James Potter cursed. "Bugger!"
"What is it?" Peter asked timidly, almost as if he was going to be in trouble for whatever had gone wrong.
"The ink has gone and disappeared again," James muttered. He set down his quill, found the lid to the ink jar he had been working with, and screwed it on tightly.
Sirius picked the jar up and eyed it suspiciously. "I love the idea of invisible ink, but if it keeps disappearing on us rather than other people, it's no good." He looked in the jar. The ink had become so invisible that by all accounts, there did not appear to even be a liquid let alone black ink in the jar. He began tapping the jar and shaking it alternately. There was no effect.
"This ink is just going to have to learn who the bosses are," James grumbled. He drew his wand and grabbed the jar from Sirius.
"James, no!" Remus barked from the portrait hole.
James, Sirius, and Peter turned and saw Remus entering the common room along with several members of the Charms study group that met weekly.
"There you are," Sirius called. "This ink has vanished again."
Remus was soon at the table and picking up the ink bottle. "I've told you three constantly, you've just got to know the key. The ink is not that complicated." Remus then launched into a rather complicated explanation and demonstration of how to make the ink visible and how to avoid making it invisible, but he had already lost James's attention. Lily Evans had arrived in the common room at the same time Remus had.
"I don't know how you ever get anything done," Remus sighed, returning the bottle of now visible ink to the table James had been working on. "She's as oblivious to you now as she ever has been."
"What's that she's carrying?" James asked to no one in particular.
"Some letter," Sirius answered as he squinted at Lily and her friends who were standing nearby. She was indeed holding a piece of parchment and showing it to her friends. Whatever it was, it had certainly provided something for Lily and her friends to talk about.
"Where?" Peter asked, leaning forward and craning his neck. His elbow brushed the jar of ink off the table. It fell and shattered, spreading ink all over James's books and notes.
"Peter!" Sirius barked.
James and Remus spun and groaned-Remus mourning the loss of the valuable ink and James for his possessions. Several of the other Gryffindors were quietly snickering.
"I'm sorry guys," Peter mumbled, scrambling to do what he could to clean up the mess.
"We can just charm the ink to be invisible, can't we?" Sirius said. "Problem solved."
Remus sat down in a chair. "That's only a temporary fix. You'll have to do some sourgifying."
James picked up his History of Magic textbook. "Scourgify this? I don't think it's worth the effort."
They all laughed raucously, and Sirius picked up another one of James's ruined possessions. It was a piece of parchment. "Hey, looks like you've utterly destroyed that invitation from Ashworth."
There was more raucous laughter, but this time, it was interrupted by a female voice. "Professor Ashworth invited you ?"
The Marauders glanced up to find Lily Evans standing next to the table, staring at the ink-soaked invitation.
"Yeah," James admitted. "He invited Sirius, Remus, Peter and me to some dinner he's having later this week."
Lily's face was the picture of pure consternation. "Why would Professor Ashworth invite you?"
"Well, I don't know," James said slowly. Did it mean something? Had Professor Ashworth paid him a compliment?
"That's easy to explain," Sirius said. "I got invited because my cousin Bellatrix is in charge of the invitations."
Lily spun to face Sirius. "What do you mean? How do you know that?"
"Well duh," Sirius said, "the invitation was in her handwriting."
"No it wasn't," Lily said. She grabbed the ruined invitation from Sirius and promptly cast a spell to clean it. She gestured to the signature. "That is definitely Professor Ashworth's signature!"
"Yeah, it is," Sirius said, "but in whose writing is the rest of the letter? Even the salutation with the names?"
Lily looked at it carefully and after a few moments said, "Not Professor Ashworth's."
"Exactly," Sirius said triumphantly. "It's Bellatrix's handwriting. I should know; I'm her cousin."
The skin near Lily's ears began to go pale and her green eyes were blazing. Sirius was beginning to regret his telling Lily about the handwriting even though he didn't quite understand what about it had irritated her so severely. After a moment of silence during which Peter quailed and Remus feigned indifference while James and Sirius stared at Lily inquiringly, she finally spoke. "Well? Are you going to the dinner?"
"I don't know," Sirius said, stifling a yawn. "I'm not fond of Bellatrix and as for Ashworth… it's not like he's that great of a professor."
"He's a fine professor!" Lily retorted.
James was quick to jump in and mollify Lily, though he wasn't about to turn on Sirius. "He's a decent bloke and all that, don't get us wrong, but he isn't that brilliant with brewing potions."
"Well… whatever," Lily mumbled. "I'm going to his dinner, and I think he's a good professor."
"We're going too," James announced.
Sirius rolled his eyes and Remus snickered quietly.
"I'm sure it will be a wonderful experience," James added.
"It will be," Lily said curtly, smart enough to realize that James's willingness to respond to Ashworth's invitation had nothing to do with the professor. She walked away stiffly and rejoined her friends.
The Marauders sat back in their seats, James absently humming to himself.
"I guess we know what was in that letter she was carrying around," Peter observed.
Harry released his final class of the day five minutes early and rushed to the Great Hall for dinner. After eating his meal quickly, he fetched his winter cloak from his apartments and left the castle. It had been snowing all day. Thus, the path from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade had become difficult to traverse. It was dark and the snow was deep. Harry trudged on. Orion's visit had aroused his curiosity about Lestrange's act of arson down in Hogsmeade. What had Orion seen in it that neither Harry nor Bellatrix had observed?
Eventually, he reached the town and its streets that were lit by lamps. He passed the Three Broomsticks and its lights glowing in the cold, winter night. It wasn't bustling with students on a weeknight, but there did seem to be some traffic going in and out. The townspeople of Hogsmeade, Harry supposed, or perhaps some travelers.
From there, it didn't take too long to find the street and small restaurant that Bellatrix had guided him to before the fire. Just across the street was the burned out building in question. Harry scanned the street and neighboring buildings to see if there were any onlookers. Seeing none, he approached the ruins.
The light that the streetlamps provided was sufficient to reveal that very little of the building had survived the devastation-only some of the parts that he and Bellatrix had put bluebell flames on. Harry noted with a little bit of amusement that the staircase they had rushed up still stood amidst the ruins. The wall he had originally experimented the bluebell flames on had fallen, but only because everything else supporting it had been burned to ashes.
Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything in the ashes that Harry could use. It was a hopeless cause. Harry sighed. Dead end, he thought.
"Hey! What are you doing?" called a voice.
Harry spun toward the voice's origin and found an aged witch looking at him from a porch situated across the street, next to the restaurant. "Just looking," he said, trying to sound confident.
"That's off limits," the woman informed him. "The Ministry is investigating the fire."
"Oh, I didn't know," Harry said, wondering if the woman might know more about the fire or the shop the building had been before the fire. He walked over to the house. He needed a cover story. Quickly, he tried to think one up. "My wife's birthday is coming up," he explained to the woman. I just got off work and was hoping to buy her something from that antiques shop. I guess they're out of business, eh?"
"You've got a gift for stating the obvious," the woman said wryly. "Yeah, Dark wizards burned it down."
"Dark wizards?" Harry exclaimed. "Really?"
"What else could it have been?" the woman said. "It took hours for the Ministry to put it out."
"Yeah, well we all know how competent the Ministry is," Harry noted.
The woman laughed. "I like you, lad."
"Is the owner around anywhere?" Harry asked.
"He's living with his son and their family. About time, too. He was getting pretty senile," the woman said.
"That's too bad about everything," Harry said, his brows furrowed in thought. If the old man was senile as the woman said, would tracking him down be of any use?
"I know of a good antiques shop down London way," the woman offered. "You could find your wife something from there."
"Uh, okay," Harry said, "where is it?"
The woman thought for a second. "It's down Smythe Lane, off of Diagon Alley. It's called Treasured Trifles."
"Treasured Trifles," Harry repeated dutifully. "Thanks."
The woman nodded. "No problem."
There was then an awkward moment while Harry and the woman eyed each other. Harry had hoped she might disappear from her porch so he could take a last look at the burned shop, but she seemed to be waiting for him to leave before she herself returned to her house. Apparently, the incident had planted the seeds of distrust in her.
With an inaudible sigh, Harry drew his wand of pine and Apparated away. He landed in an alley near Diagon Alley. He wasn't actually looking to purchase an antique, but going to a similar shop might give him a clue as to what might have been special about the other shop. It can't hurt to take a quick look, Harry told himself. After all, he was out and about anyway.
Harry walked quickly through the brisk winter air around the corner and into the Leaky Cauldron from whence he made his way into Diagon Alley. The atmosphere was sleepy, but pleasant. Most of the shops were open, but only the most dedicated customers seemed to be shopping. He strolled past Ollivander's. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he really ought to purchase a wand from Ollivander, but he ended up telling himself that he could always come back later and that his need wasn't pressing.
Eventually he was looking into the window of Treasured Trifles. The display was full of various trinkets. Harry was reminded of Professor Dumbledore's collection of magical devices-howbeit, the stuff in Dumbledore's office looked a lot less like rubbish than the stuff in the shop window.
A chime announced Harry's entrance into the shop. The shopkeeper, a bald and rather skinny man stood behind a glass counter. The counter was topped by a very old-fashioned cash register-at least by Muggle standards. The man tilted his head and smiled a proprietary smile in Harry's direction. "Good evening, sir. What are you in the market for?"
"I'm not really sure," Harry replied carefully, trying to think of a good way to find useful information. He did not think that strolling around and looking at the junk on sale would do him very much good. On the other hand, directly asking the man for the information he wanted didn't seem very practical either. "My wife is interested in old things," he said.
"Old things is our business," the man said, a slightly mocking smile on his face. "What kind of old things?"
This slightly stumped Harry. Wasn't an antique an antique? Frantically, Harry cast his mind about for what sort of antiques a young man like Rodolphus Lestrange might find interesting. In the middle of this, he had an epiphany-an epiphany that caused him to want to slap himself for stupidity. Lestrange wasn't the customer-Voldemort was. Harry knew Voldemort well. "Old things," Harry repeated and then continued, "valuable things, mysterious things… powerful things."
"I might have just the thing," said the shopkeeper. He opened his glass display case and pulled out a bracelet. He held it up for Harry's inspection. "They say that this belonged to the Borgia family and was passed down from mother to daughter. It has powerful curses on it."
Harry sighed. "I'm not interested in that sort of trash. I'm in the market for the real thing."
Instead of protesting as might be expected, the shopkeeper sighed. "Well Mr… ."
"Polkiss," Harry supplied, annoyed that the man was prying for his name.
"Well Mr. Polkiss," the man said, "the real thing isn't very easy to come by."
"Would you care to elaborate for me?" Harry asked.
The man placed the alleged Borgia ring back into the glass case. "That kind of thing almost always belongs to pureblood families. They hoard them. When circumstance forces them to sell, they don't exactly put them up on the auction block-the shame that they have to sell in the first place, and of course, the minor fact that many of those heirlooms are illegal."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "So where does one listen for the happenings of this particular market?"
The man shrugged uncomfortably. "You've just got to have connections."
"Do you know of any pieces on the market now? Something that maybe more than one antiques dealer may be aware of?" Harry asked.
The man sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Polkiss. I just don't know you. I'm not prepared to talk about that sort of thing with you. If you listen attentively in the right places, you may hear something useful. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to close up for the night."
"Thanks anyway," Harry muttered, trying to appear cheerful.
Harry left the shop and began to make his way back toward Diagon Alley. He had gone about a hundred meters when a familiar voice called his name.
"Mr. Ashworth."
Harry turned around and discovered Alastor Moody standing in the street behind him, looking at him suspiciously. "Auror Moody," Harry said. "What brings you here?"
"I could ask you the same question, Ashworth." Moody growled. He moved to join Harry. "Why don't we head down to the Leaky Cauldron for a little pick-me-up?"
Harry shrugged. "All right, I've got plenty of time."
They walked together toward the Leaky Cauldron. Moody didn't say anything until they had been seated and were looking down at their drinks. Harry was surprised to see Moody order a drink. He had been under the impression that Moody drank only from his hip flask. Probably something he picked up during Voldemort's first reign terror, Harry told himself.
"So, Ashworth, I got a fire-call from a lady in Hogsmeade saying that she had caught a young man poking around the ruins of a certain shop that burned down recently. She said that she sent him in the direction of Diagon Alley. I rushed to Diagon Alley and found you where she had told me I would find the young man she had seen."
"What an interesting story," Harry observed.
"Don't toy with me, Ashworth," Moody barked. "It was you! What were you doing?"
Harry weighed his options carefully. Denial would only fan the flames of Moody's suspicion. Admitting too much would be plain trouble. Harry decided he would tell the basic truth-just not all of it. "I've been hearing some rumors. Certain purebloods are agitated about the fire. Not just agitation over your basic case of arson. Something else is bothering them. I was curious, and I thought I'd see if I could ferret out what had gotten them into such a tizzy."
"And what did you find out?" Moody asked. From his tone of voice, it sounded like he was buying Harry's explanation, but his characteristic paranoia was still present.
"Nothing," Harry replied. "The man probably noticed you skulking outside his shop. Wouldn't tell me a thing."
"I don't skulk!" Moody declared.
"Same difference," Harry said.
The two sat in silence, nursing their drinks. Moody finished his drink. "Well Ashworth, I'll give you credit for saving that wizard from the fire in Hogsmeade, and I'll even give you the benefit of the doubt over you sticking your nose into Auror business tonight, but if I catch you skulking around further, there will be a lot more questions."
"Aye, aye, sir," Harry said with a wink. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Cheeky bastard," Moody growled as he stood and left Harry.
Harry sat with his drink for a few more moments. He vaguely considered the possibility of finding some of the more disreputably pubs in Diagon Alley for the purpose of sniffing out potential information about the black market for heirlooms. This idea was dismissed, however. Moody was likely planning to either follow him or to send someone else to tail Harry. Harry left his drink unfinished, made sure the check had been paid, and exited the Leaky Cauldron into the streets of London in search of something entertaining.
"Are you lost?" Bellatrix asked.
"No," Harry said. "I know exactly where I'm going." He was pacing in front of a certain wall in the Hogwarts castle.
"So does everyone in the St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward," Bellatrix point out.
A door appeared in the wall where Harry had been pacing. "Here we are," Harry said. "This is the Room of Requirement. It's exactly what we're looking for."
"Right," Bellatrix said. She opened the door and stepped in with Harry following her closely. After a quickly glance she changed her mind. "I guess you are right."
"Told you so," Harry said, closing the door behind them and surveying the form that the room had taken in response to his need. One always had ideas about how the room would appear, but sometimes it accounted for needs and wants that the asker wasn't always conscious of.
The room seemed more impressive than he recalled ever seeing it before. The ceiling was high and elegantly dark colors were painted on the walls that weren't gray stone. Torches lined the walls providing ample light. There were two chairs near the entrance. The rest of the room was a formal dueling arena.
"This looks perfect," Bellatrix said. "Let's get started." She drew her wand and assumed a formal dueling pose.
"We need to establish some ground rules," Harry said. He walked to one of the chairs and sat down.
Bellatrix reluctantly followed him and sat down in the other chair, still holding her wand while her eyes gleamed eagerly. "If we must."
"We must," Harry said, feeling slightly silly. "We can take turns making up rules, if you want."
"All right," Bellatrix agreed. "I'll go first. I think there should be a rule that we don't hold back. If we get our noses broken, that's our own fault."
Harry sighed. She had him cornered there. He had broken her nose the last time, so he couldn't argue that she was just looking for an excuse to hurt him. Bellatrix had pretty much turned the whole purpose for making rules on its head. "Very well, but we aren't to use any spells that can't be quickly reversed or healed, and-"
"My turn," Bellatrix interrupted. "The winner of the duel gets to pick when the next duel is held."
"Fine," Harry muttered. "Now, we're not going to use any killing spells."
"And, we each must teach each other a new spell before the duel starts."
"We have the option of forfeiting the duel at any time for any reason," Harry said.
Bellatrix glared at Harry, "Pansy."
Harry shrugged. "Take it or forget this practice dueling stuff."
"Every fifth duel is hands only," Bellatrix stipulated. "No wands, no weapons."
"You can't expect me to wrestle with you," Harry snapped.
"Seeing as you provided ample evidence in our last encounter that a well placed punch can turn the duel around, I think we'd better," Bellatrix said.
Harry sighed heavily, conceding that argument to her. She was probably right, but he wasn't eager to engage in that sort of thing. Dudley had long ago established that Harry was not talented in that area. "All right, we teach each other a new spell each time, but if one of us doesn't master it, the other doesn't have to come up with a new spell for next duel."
Bellatrix opened her mouth to utter her next rule, but Harry interrupted her. "Forget it. I think we've got enough rules."
"All right, Ashworth," Bellatrix said. "Let's get started. Teach me something I don't know."
"Stunner?"
"I'm an expert."
"Stinging hex?"
"Honestly, Ashworth!"
Harry racked his brain for some sort of spell he could teach her that would be challenging. Finally he found something he thought might take her a long time to master. "I'll teach you the Patronus Charm," Harry announced.
"Can you even do that yourself?" Bellatrix asked.
"Learned it during my third year at Hogwarts," Harry said, enjoying the look of surprise on her face. "The incantation is 'expecto patronum,' and the wand movement is something like this." Harry demonstrated the incantation and wand movement. The familiar stag leapt from his wand and pranced through the room for a moment before disappearing."
"Impressive," Bellatrix said quietly. "How many dementors does that drive away?"
"I drove several dozen dementors away back in third year," Harry said. "I haven't really faced that large of a number since. As for other people, their success varies. It might depend on your happy memory."
"Happy memory?" Bellatrix asked.
"Oh," said Harry. "I forgot. You've got to have a really happy memory in mind while you cast the spell or it doesn't work."
"The hardest part," Bellatrix said.
"Yeah, it is the hardest part," Harry admitted as he recalled his original struggles with the spell.
They stood and Bellatrix paced back and forth, holding her wand limply. Finally she stopped, did the wand movement, and literally shouted the incantation. Nothing happened. Bellatrix stood frozen, her wand still pointing toward the far wall.
"That's about what happened my first time," Harry said, trying to reassure her.
Bellatrix ignored him. Her arms dropped to her side and she began pacing. After several minutes she tried again, shouting even louder. Again, nothing happened. Bellatrix continued for nearly half an hour, attempting the spell repeatedly. Her voice became hoarser with each attempt. Harry wondered if perhaps he should seek out a boggart and let her practice on a fake dementor, but decided against it. He didn't need her knowing what his greatest fear was.
Eventually, she ceased trying and turned to Harry whom she had ignored fastidiously. "I shall have to practice on my own time. Now, I will teach you a spell."
"All right," Harry said. "What spell?"
"I'm thinking," Bellatrix said as she bit her lip furiously. A stand with a thick book on it suddenly appeared beside her. She looked at it with surprise. "Remarkable! This room really is a treasure, Ashworth. Copies of this book are extremely rare." She picked it up and began thumbing through the pages. "This one," she declared, pointing to a page.
Harry took the book from her and examined the page. "A personal projection charm?" Harry asked.
Bellatrix smiled brightly and nodded eagerly. "You can use it to fool people into thinking that you're standing in the room with them while you're actually very far away."
"All right," Harry said. "How about you demonstrate?"
"Well… ," Bellatrix said. "I'm not exactly powerful enough to do it, but I'm sure I would if I could."
"That's not fair," Harry said. "If you can't even do the spell, you can't expect to be able to teach me how to do it."
Bellatrix shrugged. "That wasn't part of the rules."
"You're just angry because you can't cast a patronus yet."
"I'm just interested in seeing you achieve great things, Harry."
"Yeah right."
"Are you going to sit here and whine?" Bellatrix asked. "Or are you going to get cracking already?"
Harry sighed and read over the description of the spell, its incantation, and wand movement. Bellatrix had really chosen a difficult one. Harry got the impression from the author's writing that the spell had not been performed by anyone in some time. It had been created in the 1500s, but had flopped because the spell smith had been the only one to successfully cast it. He put the book back where Bellatrix had gotten it and drew his wand. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself standing on the other side of the room. "Ego exertus!" he called.
He felt a strange sensation wash over him briefly, but when he opened his eyes, nothing had happened.
"I guess you'll have to practice on your own time," Bellatrix said innocently.
"Did you see anything happen at all?" Harry asked.
Bellatrix shrugged. "I don't think so. Shall we duel?"
"Yes," said Harry. He was suddenly feeling a desire to beat Bellatrix soundly, and not just for the purpose of winning the right to choose when the next practice session was to occur.
"Well, it's not any purebloods I've talked to lately," Andrew Foxe said thoughtfully. He and Moody were waiting outside the doors of an ongoing Wizengamot session. Both should have been present inside, but they had been on an emergency call to the south of England. It was now too late to bother interrupting. In only a few moments, the session would be finished.
Moody arched his eyebrows skeptically in response to Foxe's denial. Andrew Foxe was the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. His abilities were well respected, but the less-naïve members of society were conscious of the fact Foxe could be very underhanded in both his political and personal life. "Are you saying that Ashworth was lying?"
"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Foxe said quickly. "I just haven't heard anything. What purebloods does this Ashworth fellow talk to?"
"The Blacks, for one," Moody answered. "Actually, I don't think he talks to anyone else other than the Blacks."
"Orion? I doubt he'd confide in someone like this Ashworth. As for Cygnus, he's hardly the sort that would know anything." Foxe scoffed. "Ashworth is probably blowing smoke."
"Deliberately?" Moody said.
Foxe shrugged. "Not necessarily. Probably just misinterpreting something he saw or heard. Perhaps he's one of those self-important types. You know, exaggerates everything he might happen to learn, acts like its significant."
Moody frowned as the doors to the Wizengamot chamber swung open as wizards and witches began dispersing from the session. "I'm not inclined to believe Ashworth either, but he doesn't strike me as a self-important buffoon."
Foxe rolled his eyes and nodded toward his brother Edward Foxe who had just exited the chamber. "Let's ask Edward there. Can't hurt."
Moody winced as Andrew led him through the now crowded hallway toward Edward Foxe. The eldest Foxe brother was the Head of the Department of Mysteries. Moody wasn't afraid of him per se, but few stood in Edward Foxe's imposing presence comfortably.
"Say, Edward," Andrew said quietly after he, Moody, and Edward had found a somewhat secluded corner, "did you read in the Prophet about that antique shop being burned down in Hogsmeade?"
Edward nodded as he focused his attention on Moody.
"Moody has been hearing rumors that certain purebloods are disturbed about the business. Have you heard anything?"
"What purebloods?" Edward Foxe asked.
"Maybe the Blacks," Andrew said.
Edward frowned. "I haven't heard anything. Now, if you'll excuse me."
"I tried," Andrew said to Moody as Edward walked away. "You can keep poking around if you want, but I don't know how useful it will be."
"Whatever," Moody said. "I'll see you around."
Moody left Andrew Foxe and made his way to the Ministry atrium to depart. There, he found Albus Dumbledore waiting for him.
"Did the Foxes have anything interesting to say?" Albus asked, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Do they ever?" Moody growled.
"Not really," Dumbledore agreed. "However, they have now been forewarned. Alerting them to the possible existence of nefarious schemes accomplishes more than warning Minister Thornton herself would."
"At least the airhead is honest."
"The Foxes are terribly dishonest people," Dumbledore agreed. "They however, have something Cecilia Thornton doesn't-a grip on reality."
"We're not even sure that Ashworth knows what he's talking about," Moody pointed out.
"Let us hope that is the case," Dumbledore said. "We'll continue to watch him and see what happens."
The Marauders made their way to Professor Ashworth's apartments together. They had been sorely tempted to pull a prank on Ashworth, but the manners drilled into them by at least some of their parents had eventually won out. Ashworth had been nice to invite them and he certainly had never been infamously unkind to them. However, in lieu of a prank, they had settled on another strategy that had the potential of causing mayhem.
Upon their arrival, James rapped on Ashworth's door. After a brief moment the door opened to reveal Harry Ashworth. He wore a slightly surprised expression. "Messrs Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew… you're forty minutes early."
"Our parents always taught us to be punctual," Sirius announced pompously.
"As if you ever learned anything your parents ever taught you," echoed Bellatrix's waspish voice from within the apartment.
"I love you too," Sirius said loudly.
Harry laughed and opened the door wider, motioning for them to enter. "If your parents taught you to be punctual, I'm sure they also taught you to always offer to assist your host. I'm sure that Bellatrix would appreciate help setting the table."
"They're not touching the table!"
"Maybe the table doesn't need to be set after all," Harry said, closing the door and turning to examine the four with a broad smile on his face.
Lupin returned the smile with an uncomfortable nod and glanced at his companions to see what they thought of Ashworth's oddly warm welcome. He discovered that they were too busy examining the professor's apartments to really notice the professor himself. Most noticeably, they were studying Bellatrix who was just finishing her inspection of the table.
Bellatrix looked over at them with a frown and then over to Harry. "Everything is ready, Ashworth. I'm going back to my dorm to pick some things up. Don't let anyone touch the table."
"All right," Harry said.
With that, she departed and left Harry alone with the Marauders.
"Professor," James said, "why is it that Bellatrix Black spends so much time with you?"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked in an overly casual voice.
"She's in your office constantly," Lupin pointed out, "and it's obvious that she's the one who's been in charge of organizing this party."
Harry shrugged. "Bellatrix was pretty much the first person from the British magical community I met when I arrived here. She offered to show me around and get me acquainted. I guess we're sort of friends."
"Too bad you had to run into a Black so quickly," Sirius said. "There's tons of better families out there."
"You're a Black," Harry said.
"Yeah, but I'm the black sheep of the family," Sirius declared.
Peter guffawed.
Harry shook his head with a small smile and motioned toward the dinner table. "Let's see where Bellatrix has got us seated. I'm curious to see what she did with our guest list."
"Probably something malicious," Sirius muttered.
"Here I am!" Peter called, pointing to a small paper placard in front of a plate. "She put me next to… Severus Snape."
Harry lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "How interesting," he murmured quietly.
"Sirius and I are next to Amos Diggory," James announced. "He's sitting at your right."
"Bellatrix stuck herself on your left," Sirius said to Harry. "That's pretty presumptuous."
"How so?" Harry asked.
Sirius grinned. "That means she thinks she's number two around here."
"She didn't put herself there at the last party," Harry said.
"Maybe it's just random," Peter suggested.
"Could be," Harry said.
"Bad luck, James," Remus announced. "She put Lily really far away from you." Remus was standing near where Peter and Snape were to sit. "I'm down here with her and Frank Longbottom."
The group walked over to where Remus had found Lily's placard. Harry looked at the placard. "Lily Evans," he read. He grinned at James. "Maybe we should make a slight change to the seating arrangements." Deftly, Harry picked up Lily's placard and carried it to where Amos Diggory had been seated. He exchanged the two and put Amos where Lily had formerly been.
James looked as if Harry had given him a million galleons. "Thanks, professor."
"Don't thank me yet," Harry said. "You've still got to endure Bellatrix giving you the evil eye. I'm going to let her think you guys did it."
Sirius laughed loudly, "I love it!"
Harry laughed softly. "Let's sit down. We've still got over half an hour before anyone else shows up. Do any of you play Quidditch?"
Lily stopped at a mirror and beamed at her reflection. Her friend Alice walked up behind her. "Are you going to check yourself in every mirror we pass, Lily?"
"I'm so excited," Lily said. "Professors don't hold these sorts of parties often, you know."
"Especially the professor you have a crush on," Alice teased.
Lily blushed. "I don't have crush on Professor Ashworth. It's just that he's so…"
"Hot," Alice finished.
"No!" Lily protested. "It's just that the moment I saw him, I knew he was…"
"Your soul-mate," Alice snickered.
"Just stop it," Lily said. "The important thing is that we make a good impression. I don't want him to think I'm some sort of cavewoman."
"Oh," Alice said, "is that why we're going to be fifteen minutes early?"
"People hate it when their guests are late," Lily lectured. "By going slightly early, we'll have the chance to visit with Professor Ashworth and perhaps even offer to help him with his last minute preparations."
"You just want to get him alone for ten minutes," Alice said.
"That's unlikely," Lily grumbled. "That… scarlet woman Bellatrix has her claws in him! Did I tell you what Sirius said? The invitations were in her handwriting!"
"Lily, you're such a treasure," Alice said. "I'll distract Bellatrix by offering to help her and you can corner Ashworth and start impressing him. 'Hello professor! Did you hear I got an outstanding on my latest Defense essay?'"
"Stop mocking me," Lily said. "We're here." They had indeed arrived at Professor Ashworth's door. Lily reached out and knocked on it very primly. Her grandmother could not have produced a more perfect knock.
To Lily's horror, it was none other than James Potter who answered the door. "Welcome Lily, Alice," he said pompously. "How kind of you to come."
"I'm not late am I?" Lily asked desperately. In her panic at seeing James, the type of boy who would be very late, already there, she had forgotten that he was someone she didn't like very much.
"Not at all," Harry called from somewhere behind the door. "Come in."
Lily and Alice stepped into Professor Ashworth's apartments. It was very difficult for Lily to resist slapping the arrogant smirk off of James's face as he bowed and closed the door. Ashworth and James's friends were seated around a small coffee table.
"I know it's a little bit of faux pas," Harry said to Lily and Alice, "but we've decided to get started on the appetizers." He gestured to a platter with some hors oeuvres. "Help yourself."
Her great plans shattered, Lily could only numbly sit down on a small couch with Alice and help herself to the appetizers. James sat down next to Sirius and grinned at her. She favored him with a small glare that disappeared as soon as Ashworth turned his attention to her.
"I've just talked James and Sirius into considering careers as Aurors once they've retired from professional Quidditch. What sort of careers are you interested in, Lily, Alice?"
"I've actually been planning to be an Auror for a couple of years," Alice said. "I've got an uncle who does that and he enjoys it."
"Really?" Harry said. "Do you know what classes you have to take in order to become an Auror?"
Alice began rattling off the educational requirements for British Aurors while Lily glared sullenly at James Potter. He had ruined her evening. Deliberately! Now, Alice who had teased her for her interest in Professor Ashworth was sitting there chatting with him while she sat liked a dumfounded school girl. She stewed in her thoughts for several minutes until she felt someone jab her.
"Lily? Lily?" came Professor Ashworth's voice.
Lily started as Alice prepared to jab her a third time. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I was wondering if you'd decided what you'd like to do once you left Hogwarts," Ashworth asked.
Lily blushed. "Uh, I'm pretty good at potions and charms. I was sort of considering being a mediwitch-like Madame Pomfrey."
"Really?" said Harry. He face seemed to reflect surprise. "I didn't know that."
"Uh, yeah," Lily said. "I think it's a pretty good career. There's lots of demand in the medical field."
"Certainly," Harry agreed.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of several more guests. It seemed that the Hufflepuffs had decided to come en masse. Soon the apartment was filled with Harry's guests who were all chattering with each other and Professor Ashworth eagerly. After Bellatrix arrived, Harry announced that dinner would begin.
Lily and Alice walked over to the table with the rest of the guests and began searching for their seating assignment. When Lily discovered that she was sitting directly on Professor Ashworth's right, she shared a triumphant grin with Alice and shot James an arrogant stare. That ought to set him in his place, she thought. Obviously, she was Ashworth's favorite student. She tried to give Sirius the same arrogant stare, but he was busy snickering at Bellatrix who appeared to be quite annoyed for some reason or another.