***
THE MISSION DUMBLEDORE HAD given the two Gryffindors wasn't as straightforward as it appeared. In the next potions class, they were told to make antidote for poisons and Harry had again impressed Slughorn by showing him bezoar, which was the antidote of most poisons. Grace and Harry had then stayed back and had only muttered the word 'Horcruxes,' and Slughorn had gone pale and exploded in rage at them before storming out. Hermione was seething at the way Harry had triumphed without doing the work properly and Ron was resentful that Harry hadn't slipped him a bezoar too.
Grace and Harry decided that, for the time being, they would let Slughorn think that they had forgotten all about Horcruxes; it was surely best to lull him into a false sense of security before returning to the attack.
Meanwhile, the Hogwarts library had failed Hermione for the first time in living memory. She was so shocked, she even forgot that she was annoyed at Harry for his trick with the bezoar.
"I haven't found one single explanation of what Horcruxes do!" she told Grace and Harry. "Not a single one! I've been right through the restricted section and even in the most horrible books, where they tell you how to brew the most gruesome potions — nothing! All I could find was this, in the introduction to Magick Moste Evile — listen — 'Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction. . ..' I mean, why mention it then?" she said impatiently, slamming the old book shut; it let out a ghostly wail. "Oh, shut up," she snapped, stuffing it back into her bag.
The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-gray clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. The upshot of this was that the sixth years' first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead of in the grounds.
When Grace, Harry and Hermione arrived in the Hall (Ron had come down with Lavender), they found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout — the Heads of Houses — and a small wizard whom Grace took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colorless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away.
"Good morning," said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time —"
"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" barked Professor McGonagall.
Everybody looked around. Draco had flushed a dull pink; he looked furious as he stepped away from Crabbe, with whom he appeared to have been having a whispered argument.
"— by which time, many of you may be ready to take your tests," Twycross continued, as though there had been no interruption. "As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.
"I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you."
There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of Houses moved among the students, marshaling them into position and breaking up arguments.
"Harry, where are you going?" demanded Hermione.
But Harry did not answer; he was moving quickly through the crowd towards Draco. Grace rolled her eyes. Twycross waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student.
"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" said Twycross. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!
"Step one: Fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination," said Twycross. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."
Everybody looked around furtively to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, then hastily did as they were told. Grace gazed at the circular patch of dusty floor enclosed by her hoop and tried hard to think of nothing else.
"Step two," said Twycross, "focus your determination to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body!"
Grace glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to her left, Ernie Macmillan was contemplating his hoop so hard that his face had turned pink; it looked as though he was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. Grace bit back a laugh and hastily returned her gaze to her own hoop.
"Step three," called Twycross, "and only when I give the com- mand . . . Turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation! On my command, now . . . one —"
Grace glanced around again; lots of people were looking positively alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly.
"— two —"
Grace tried to fix her thoughts on her hoop again.
"— THREE!"
Grace spun on the spot, lost balance, and nearly fell over. She was not the only one. The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering people; Neville was flat on his back; Ernie Macmillan, on the other hand, had done a kind of pirouetting leap into his hoop and looked momentarily thrilled, until he caught sight of Dean Thomas roaring with laughter at him.
"Never mind, never mind," said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions. . . ."
The second attempt was no better than the first. It was on the third attempt that Grace felt the feeling of her body being sucked in a wormhole and the next thing she knew was that she was standing in the inside of her loop, perfectly whole. This caused everyone to look at her stunned and in admiration.
"Absolutely splendid!" breathed Twycross in awe and walked toward her. "Dear merlin, I've never seen anyone apparate so perfectly only in their third try!"
Grace felt the need to smirk at the jealous and yet admired looks she was getting from her classmates, but she kept her face neutral. She could also see McGonagall's proud face and Snape's annoyed face from the corner of her eye.
"What's your name, dear?" he asked curiously.
"Freya Black." she answered with a polite smile on her face.
Recognition passed in his eyes and his eyes lit up in excitement. "Oh, The Freya Black? are you? Well, seeing as you belong from Abildgaard family, I should've expected nothing less."
"She's also one of my brightest student." said McGonagall with a hint of pride in her tone and Grace wanted nothing more than to grin broadly.
"Great, great." Twycross nodded with a smile, before looking at other students. "Now, you all saw how Ms. Black was able to apparate perfectly, so why don't you set her as an example and follow suit?"
But still after fifth try, no one was able to apparate at all expect Grace. She was asked to do a demonstration again in front of everyone, and then she only observed others; sometimes wanting to burst into laughter.
Not until the seventh attempt did anything exciting happen. There was a horrible screech of pain and everybody looked around, terrified, to see Susan Bones of Hufflepuff wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away where she had started.
The Heads of House converged on her; there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal Susan sobbing, reunited with her leg but looking horrified.
"Splinching, or the separation of random body parts," said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, "occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continuously upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation . . . thus."
Twycross stepped forward, turned gracefully on the spot with his arms outstretched, and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall.
"Remember the three D's," he said, "and try again . . . one — two — three —"
But an hour later, Grace's perfect apparition and Susan's splinching were the only interesting thing that had happened. Twycross did not seem discouraged. Fastening his cloak at his neck, he merely said, "Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination. Deliberation."
With that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops, and walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Talk broke out at once as people began moving toward the entrance hall.
Grace walked with Hermione, as Harry was with Ron (and she was still hating on him) and Hermione was just complementing Grace, when a large crowd of both boys and girls had surrounded Grace asking her how did she do it. It took some time to get away from them and when she was finally able to, she was whisked away by Harry (Hermione had declined to come because of Ron).
Grace and Ron (with Grace totally ignoring him) followed Harry back to the Gryffindor Tower at a run. They were temporarily detained by Peeves, who had jammed a door on the fourth floor shut and was refusing to let anyone pass until they set fire to their own pants, but Grace, Harry and Ron simply turned back and took one of their trusted shortcuts. Within five minutes, they were climbing through the portrait hole.
"Are you going to tell me what we're doing, then?" asked Ron, panting slightly.
"Up here," said Harry, and he crossed the common room and led the way through the door to the boys' staircase.
Their dormitory was empty. Harry flung open his trunk and began to rummage in it, while Grace and Ron watched impatiently.
"Harry . . ." said Grace, wanting to take a nap.
"Malfoy's using Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts. He was arguing with Crabbe just now. I want to know — aha."
He had found it, a folded square of apparently blank parchment, which he now smoothed out and tapped with the tip of his wand.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good . . . or Malfoy is anyway."
At once, the Marauder's Map appeared on the parchment's surface. Here was a detailed plan of every one of the castle's floors and, moving around it, the tiny, labeled black dots that signified each of the castle's occupants.
"Help me find Malfoy," said Harry urgently.
He laid the map upon his bed, and he, Grace and Ron leaned over it, searching.
"There!" said Ron, after a minute or so. "He's in the Slytherin common room, look . . . with Parkinson and Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle . . ."
"Well, I'm keeping an eye on him from now on," Harry said firmly. "And the moment I see him lurking somewhere with Crabbe and Goyle keeping watch outside, it'll be on with the old Invisibility Cloak and off to find out what he's —"
He broke off as Neville entered the dormitory, bringing with him a strong smell of singed material, and began rummaging in his trunk for a fresh pair of pants.
February moved toward March with no change in the weather except that it became windy as well as wet. To general indignation, a sign went up on all common room notice boards that the next trip into Hogsmeade had been canceled. Ron was furious.
"It was on my birthday!" he said. "I was looking forward to that!"
Grace would've been furious too if this happened in her third year, but since she found her about her true identity, her birthday had also changed. Her real birth date had shifted to December twenty one, which made her two months older than Ron. She hated sharing her birthdays with anyone, even if that 'anyone' was Ron.
"Not a big surprise, though, is it?" said Harry. "Not after what happened to Katie."
She had still not returned from St. Mungo's. What was more, further disappearances had been reported in the Daily Prophet, including several relatives of students at Hogwarts.
"But now all I've got to look forward to is stupid Apparition!" said Ron grumpily. "Big birthday treat . . ."
Three lessons on, Apparition was proving as difficult as ever, though a few more people had managed to splinch themselves. Grace was now exempted from practice, but wasn't allowed to got out of the room. She had pleaded McGonagall to let her be free, but McGonagall had only narrowed her eyes at her and said, "No, Ms. Black. I don't know what havoc you'll cause then." Grace's mouth had literally dropped open in disbelief; she never caused havoc, If you would exempt the pranks she pulled with Ginny or the times she got caught by McGonagall trying to shut Mrs. Norris in one of the armors or when she used Fred and George vanishing powder only to cause chaos in the class. Other than that she never caused havoc, she was totally innocent, well according to her anyway.
So she was forced to watch the other students attempt at apparition which was proving to be in vain. Frustration was running high among them and there was a certain amount of ill-feeling toward Wilkie Twycross and his three D's, which had inspired a number of nicknames for him, the politest of which were Dogbreath and Dunghead.
On Ron's birthday, Grace gifted him a new leather shoes; she had seen him eyeing them in Diagon Alley during them Christmas break. But she was still not talking to him, now mostly out of her loyalty toward Hermione.
"GRACE!" came Harry's voice from the boy's dormitory while she sat in the Gryffindor common room.
She rolled her eyes and stood up rather slowly. She had promised she's wait before going to breakfast and she's sat for almost more than twenty minutes on the couch, starving. Harry was certainly going to face her wrath.
"RON ATE THE LOVE POTION FROM ROMILDA VANE!" Harry yelled again.
"Merlin's soggy pants!" Grace cursed loudly, before breaking off in a sprint.
She entered the boy's dormitory to find Ron being dangled by his ankle, arguing with Harry.
"They'd fallen off my bed, all right? Let me go!" said Ron swinging and rotating in the air.
"They didn't fall off your bed, you prat, don't you understand?" said Harry. "They were mine, I chucked them out of my trunk when I was looking for the map, they're the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda gave me before Christmas, and they're all spiked with love potion!"
But only one word of this seemed to have registered with Ron.
"Romilda?" he repeated. "Did you say Romilda? Harry — do you know her? Can you introduce me?"
Grace was torn between her anger at Romilda Vane and the urge to laugh at Ron's ridiculousness.
"Yeah, I'll introduce you," said Harry. "I'm going to let you down now, okay?"
He sent Ron crashing back to the floor, but Ron simply bounded to his feet again, grinning.
"You prat, Ron." Grace scowled. "You have to go and eat everything, don't you? I'm going to humiliate the hell out of that Romilda Vane!"
"Don't you dare do anything to my Romilda, Grace!" Ron shouted angrily.
Grace blinked and then blinked again. "I'm speechless."
"And so am I." Harry muttered to her, before turning to Ron. "She'll be in Slughorn's office,"
He lead the way out of the dorm.
"Why will she be in there?" asked Ron anxiously, hurrying to keep up.
"Oh, she has extra Potions lessons with him," said Harry, inventing wildly.
"Maybe I could ask if I can have them with her?" said Ron eagerly.
Grace snorted loudly.
"Great idea," said Harry.
Lavender was waiting beside the portrait hole, a complication neither Grace nor Harry had foreseen.
"You're late, Won-Won!" she pouted. "I've got you a birthday —"
"Leave me alone," said Ron impatiently. "Harry's going to introduce me to Romilda Vane."
And without another word to her, he pushed his way out of the portrait hole. Grace tried to make an apologetic face to Lavender, but it might have turned out simply amused, because she looked more offended than ever as the Fat Lady swung shut behind them.
Grace had been slightly worried that Slughorn might be at breakfast, but he answered his office door at the first knock, wearing a green velvet dressing gown and matching nightcap and looking rather bleary-eyed.
"Harry," he mumbled. "This is very early for a call. . . . I generally sleep late on a Saturday. . . ."
"Professor, I'm really sorry to disturb you," said Grace as quietly as possible, while Ron stood on tiptoe, attempting to see past Slughorn into his room, "but my brother Ron's swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn't make him an antidote, could you? I'd take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we're not supposed to have anything from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and, you know . . . awkward questions . . ."
"I'd have thought you and Harry could have whipped him up a remedy, an expert potioneer like you two?" asked Slughorn.
"Er," said Harry, somewhat distracted by the fact that Ron was now elbowing him in the ribs in an attempt to force his way into the room, "well, we've never mixed an antidote for a love potion, sir, and by the time we get it right, Ron might've done something serious —"
Helpfully, Ron chose this moment to moan, "I can't see her, Harry — is he hiding her?"
"Was this potion within date?" asked Slughorn, now eyeing Ron with professional interest. "They can strengthen, you know, the longer they're kept."
"That would explain a lot," panted Harry, now positively wrestling with Ron to keep him from knocking Slughorn over.
"It's his birthday, Professor," Grace added imploringly.
"Oh, all right, come in, then, come in," said Slughorn, relenting. "I've got the necessary here in my bag, it's not a difficult antidote. . . ."
Ron burst through the door into Slughorn's overheated, crowded study, tripped over a tasseled footstool, regained his balance by seizing Harry around the neck, and muttered, "She didn't see that, did she?"
"She's not here yet," said Harry.
Grace simple watched Slughorn opening his potion kit and adding a few pinches of this and that to a small crystal bottle.
"That's good," said Ron fervently. "How do I look?"
"Very handsome," said Slughorn smoothly, handing Ron a glass of clear liquid. "Now drink that up, it's a tonic for the nerves, keep you calm when she arrives, you know."
"Brilliant," said Ron eagerly, and he gulped the antidote down noisily.
Grace, Harry and Slughorn watched him. For a moment, Ron beamed at them. Then, very slowly, his grin sagged and vanished, to be replaced by an expression of utmost horror.
"Back to normal, then?" said Grace, grinning. Slughorn chuckled. "Thanks a lot, Professor."
"Don't mention it, Freya, don't mention it," said Slughorn, as Ron collapsed into a nearby armchair, looking devastated.
"Pick-me-up, that's what he needs," Slughorn continued, now bustling over to a table loaded with drinks. "I've got butterbeer, I've got wine, I've got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead . . . hmm . . . meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas . . . ah, well . . ." He shrugged. "He can't miss what he's never had! Why don't we open it now and celebrate Mr. Weasley's birthday? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love. . . ."
He chortled again, and Grace and Harry joined in.
"There you are then," said Slughorn, handing Grace, Harry and Ron a glass of mead each before raising his own. "Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph —"
"Ron —" whispered Harry.
But Ron, who did not appear to be listening to the toast, had already thrown the mead into his mouth and swallowed it.
There was one second, hardly more than a heartbeat, in which both Grace and Harry knew there was something terribly wrong and Slughorn, it seemed, did not.
"— and may you have many more —"
"Ron!" exclaimed Harry.
Ron had dropped his glass; he half-rose from his chair and then crumpled, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling from his mouth, and his eyes were bulging from their sockets.
"Professor!" Grace bellowed. "Do something!"
But Slughorn seemed paralyzed by shock. Ron twitched and choked: His skin was turning blue.
"What — but —" spluttered Slughorn.
Before Grace could do anything, Harry leapt over a low table and sprinted toward Slughorn's open potion kit, pulling out jars and pouches and brought a shriveled kidney like stone Slughorn had taken from him in Potions.
Grace hurriedly took it from him, and hurtled back to Ron's side, wrenched open his jaw, and thrust the bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a great shudder, a rattling gasp, and his body became limp and still.