Under Your Spell

Ethel Black

“What on earth was that?” Harry gasped, the moment they hit solid ground.  McGonagall unhooked her arm from Harry’s and began walking. It took him a moment to realize that they were now in Hogsmeade, but there was something wrong. All the shops were shut, boarded up; The Three Broomsticks had metal shutters locked over the windows.

“Professor, what’s going on?” Harry ran to keep up with McGonagall.

“Someone’s tracking us,” she replied silkily. “Someone followed us to Severus’ house. I had to explode it so that they would be forced to leave.” She stopped, and turned to face Harry. “Someone knows you have that letter.”

“But, I’ve only told…” She shook her head wearily.

“It doesn’t matter, Potter. You’ve forgotten how powerful dark magic can be.” She paused, and signalled to the Three Broomsticks, which was bathed in darkness. “Weasley and Granger are in the flat above. Aberforth Dumbledore is looking after them.” Her steel grey eyes commanded him with a professor’s glare. Harry found himself nodding. “Knock three times very quickly. Aberforth will know it is you.” She turned to walk away.

“Professor!” Harry called, “Where are you going?” McGonagall hesitated, then turned around. Her eyes blazed.

“I have business to attend to,” she said crisply. “Now go inside, Potter, before I march you in myself.” She turned and began walking back through Hogsmeade, her cloak billowing. Harry slid down the narrow alley beside the Three Broomsticks, to a peeling black door. As requested, he knocked three times.  A dark shadow appeared behind the clouded glass.

“Potter?” It hissed, “Is that you?”

“Yes.”

Harry heard a bolt being slid back, and the door opened rigidly. Aberforth stood, filling the doorframe. His electric blue eyes surveyed Harry carefully.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t look like a death eater,” he said gruffly. “Come in, Potter.” Harry stepped into the intense warmth of the flat, and his nostrils were attacked with the smell of hops and fresh bread. He climbed the stairs that were carpeted in faded richly patterned carpet. A pair of arms enclosed him the moment they reached the top, and a voice murmured in his ear:

“Harry, we were so worried!”

Harry felt a strange tingle at Hermione’s words. He disentangled himself, and saw Ron lying on the sagging sofa, his face plastered in green slime.

“Gi, Garry’” Ron spluttered. “Gorry bout gid.”

“What happened?

Hermione’s nose wrinkled.

“Hit by a bat bogey hex when we arrived, only I can’t seem to lift it.” Harry crouched in front of Ron.

“Finite Incantatem.” Harry swiped his wand, and the mucus cleared from Ron’s face.

“Whoa, cheers, Harry.” Ron sat up straighter. Hermione blushed.

“So where did McGonagall take you?” Asked Hermione, eager to change the subject. Harry shrugged.

“She took me to Snape’s house, and we found Pettigrew’s little hide-out where he was after Voldemort went missing. I think she picked up something, but she blew up the house before I could take any notice.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “She did what?”

“Someone had followed us, like they had at Privet Drive. McGonagall thinks they know about the letter.”

“Harry, this is dangerous,” gasped Hermione. “It could be anyone.”

“Speaking of letters,” interjected Harry, quickly. “Take a look at this.” He fished the Ethel Black letter out and handed it to Hermione.

“Pettigrew,

The time has come. Rumours of the Dark Lord’s death have been all too dominant these past few weeks. With Lily and James Potter’s deaths, we are hoping that the Dark Lord is merely celebrating this news alone. He was last seen in Albania shortly after the deaths, however, it is said that he is dying, and that makes him more desperate. He will be in need of a companion to help him, to serve his needs. You will do this job.

We are holding a meeting in Malfoy Manor to discuss the matter further. Narcissa Malfoy, although heavily pregnant, will provide an ample heir once it is born. The couple proclaim their child is a son, as it has been in the Malfoy family tree for centuries. If this is so, your job will be made easier, as the child will take over your duties once the time is right.

You have done well, my friend, and I know you will continue to serve the Dark Lord for many years to come with great faith.

Yours always,

Ethel Black”

“Who on earth is Ethel Black?” Harry asked.

“She must be a relative of Sirius’,” suggested Hermione quietly.  In a flash, Harry realized where he’d seen her name before: on the Black Family Tree at Grimmauld Place.

“Sirius’ sister!” Harry exclaimed. Hermione looked up sharpish.

“Don’t be silly, Harry. Sirius didn’t have a sister.”

“Yes, he did,” Insisted Harry, “He just never talked about her. Do you think that’s who sent me the letter?”

“Maybe,” said Hermione, “It’s a place to start.”