We materialised moments later in Dumbledore's office. Nausea rips at my stomach and I know that Draco feels it too, because despite his best efforts his knees shudder a bit as he tries to stay upright. Dumbledore appears to be completely uninhibited by the apparition, striding away as if nothing had happened. He waves his wand and through a silent incantation, a comfortable looking sofa not unlike the ones in our common room shifts from nowhere, appearing right in front of Draco and I. "Place Miss Weasley down, Mr Malfoy" Dumbledore says as he turns his back to us, busying himself by pouring some water into a silver goblet.
Draco looks down at me and slowly lowers my body down onto the chair. How he managed to keep hold of me throughout that I'll never know. I suppose that all those years of playing Quidditch and going for long runs around the lake paid off.
"You should go to see Madam Pomfrey, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore says as he turns back to us. "That cut is quite deep, and whilst I'm sure Miss Weasley did not intend to injure you, some of Madam Pomfrey's Wound-Be-Gone potion will soon fix you up."
Draco stands up firmly to Dumbledore, puffing out his chest. "I'm not leaving her." He snarls.
"I did that to you?" I croak, pointing to the deep cut on his cheek. Red blood trickles from it, a harsh contrast to his pale skin. Draco looks down at me and smiles weakly "it's just a scratch..."
I shake my head. "No! Draco, I want you to go and see Madam Pomfrey now! I can't believe I hurt you, I'm a terrible person, I..."
Draco crouches down beside me and squeezes my hand. "You are not a terrible person. It hardly hurt anyway, I can't even feel it now." To prove his point, he wipes it roughly with the back of his hand, and barely manages to hide his wince. "Go Draco, please. I'll be fine."
He stares at me for a moment and seems to be arguing with two sides of himself. His eyes flicker to Dumbledore, and then back to me. Finally, he sighs, and stands up. "I'll be nearby if you need me." His eyes flick to my neck and I know what he means. If I need him, call him by the locket. I've found that every time I need Draco, he turns up almost immediately. The locket we have to thank for that.
I smile weakly at him, and reluctantly he leaves.
Dumbledore holds out the goblet to me, and I sip it gratefully. He takes a seat opposite me, and patiently waits until I've finished drinking to speak.
"May I be correct in presuming that you fainted due to a sudden burning sensation that seemed to come directly from your left arm?" he said faintly, watching me with a sort of wise curiosity. Slightly taken aback, I nod slowly, before managing to stutter "yes."
"What did it feel like?" he continues.
I tried to think back, but my mind simply filled with pain and I shiver in fright. "It felt like my entire body was on fire. It started out soft, a tickle. But then it grew, so hot that it felt like I'd fell into the middle of the Sun. It was like I was being stabbed by a poisoned knife. I couldn't move."
Dumbledore looks away. "I saw him too Professor" I stutter, "Lord Voldemort."
Dumbledore's face snaps back to me, his eyes wide behind his half-moon shaped spectacles. "What did he say?" It's strange to see Dumbledore surprised. He's always been so wise, so knowing. I used to think that Dumbledore knew everything, that there wasn't a secret in the world that could be kept from him. Not a spell that he hadn't mastered.
That illusion had obviously be shattered when he'd been unable to burn the dark mark from my skin.
"He told me to come to my master, to come to him."
Dumbledore stroked his long white beard pensively, wrapped up deep in his thoughts. "That burning sensation you felt was him calling you to him. It's how he contacts his Death Eaters, even when they're far away. All of them would have felt that pain, but it only escalates to that point when they don't respond."
I can't help but wonder if Draco felt it too.
"There are ways of shutting it out of course. Occlumency is but one of them. In fact, Occlumency is perhaps the most reliable way to defend oneself against the penetration of the mind."
I've heard of Occlumency before. It's supposed to be an incredibly difficult branch of magic that, if mastered, enables you to resist the skills of a Legimens and truth serums, even Veritaserum. I know that last year, when the Dark Lord was entering Harry's mind, Dumbledore ordered him to take lessons in Occlumency with Snape in order to help close it off. Harry had not been successful; his mind was much too full and busy for him to forget everything and make his mind blank.
If Harry couldn't do it, then would I?
"I am, of course, able to teach Occlumency. But I'm afraid I don't get much time. Only two other teachers at this school have been able to master it - Professor Snape, as I'm sure you're aware, and Professor Slughorn."
I gasp before I can stop myself. "Professor Slughorn? Excuse me for saying Professor, but Professor Slughorn is so..."
"He seems like a bumbling fool?" Dumbledore adds, chuckling slightly. "That is a front that Horace portrays. He is in fact one of the most brilliant and able wizards I've ever met. His skills stretch far beyond potions." I blush slightly.
"However I don't think that we could come up with a reasonable excuse for Professor Slughorn as to why you need Occlumency lessons. So perhaps lessons with Professor Snape would..."
"Draco knows Occlumency." I pipe up suddenly.
Dumbledore raises his eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?"
I take a deep breathe. "Draco is very skilled in occlumency. He was taught it over the summer holidays, by his aunt. He didn't mention why he needed it, but he could teach me. I'm sure he'd be more than willing to, if I asked."
Dumbledore stroked his beard again. "How interesting..."
We're interrupted by a hurried knocking on Dumbledore's office door. "Professor! Professor Dumbledore sir!"
It's Hagrid. Dumbledore flicks his hand at the door, and it opens to reveal a red-faced Hagrid. "You 'ave to come quick, Professor. It's a student, she's been possessed!"
Dumbledore stands slowly. "Slowly Hagrid. Which student is this? Tell me exactly what happened!"
Hagrid takes a deep breathe. "Well, it's Katie Bell professor, in the 6th year. She was comin' back from 'ogsmeade with 'er friend, an' she 'ad some sorta strange package. 'ad a necklace in, opal I think. Anyway, she touched it an' it was like she'd 'ad the cruciatus curse put on 'er. Shot up in the air and did this strange screamin' thing. Least, that's what 'er friend, 'Arry, 'Ermione an' Ron all said."
Dumbledore grabbed his wand. "Miss Weasley, I recommend that you return to your common room if you're feeling quite well enough. We can continue our chat later. However at the moment, as I'm sure you can see, I have incredibly pressing matters to attend to. I apologise."
I stand slowly, my feet still slightly uneasy beneath me. "Of course professor, I just hope that Katie's ok."
Hagrid shook his head, his great mane of matted hair shaking. "Madam Pomfrey says that she's beyond 'er care, that she'll need t'go't St Mungo's."
Dumbledore nods. "Hagrid, could you escort Miss Weasley back to the Slytherin common room? She's also had an ordeal this afternoon and is slightly unstable on her legs." Hagrid looks down at me and smiles softly, although he's clearly still in shock from what he'd seen with Katie Bell. "Of course, glad to be of 'elp. Oh, and 'Arry, 'Ermione, Ron an' Katie Bell's friend Leanne are with Professor McGonagall."
Dumbledore ushers Hagrid and I towards the door, the half-giant holds out his arm to steady me and with a pop, Dumbledore disapparates.
Hagrid talks about the incident for the rest of the journey, but I don't tell him to stop. In fact, I'm filled with a sort of dread, like it has some sort of connection to Draco. But how could it? Draco is powerful, and I know that his magical ability is one of the greatest is our year. He'd be capable of doing such a thing, but so would I, so would Harry and so would Hermione. Draco wouldn't do it. Not my Draco.
Bu the more I thought about it, I found myself becoming more and more suspicious of my boyfriend. So I just repeat those three words over and over again to myself, a silent reassurance.
Not my Draco.
Not my Draco.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a blur, October was gone and it was November. Snow fell again on Hogwarts, and I amused myself by watching as Filch worked his way around the paths of the castle, clearing the snow out of the way. I would have offered to help him, knowing a simple spell that would have cleared the snow in an instant. But Mr Filch had caused me much trouble over the years and had tried enough times to get my friends and I in trouble. Besides, I still hadn't forgiven him for his allegiance with Dolores Umbridge last year.
Poor Filch, it must be hard to be a Squib surrounded by magic. Watching as children did spells for the simplest of things, like transfiguring themselves an umbrella to keep the snow off them, or making a ball of used parchment burst into a ball of floating flames to keep themselves warm whilst outside. Watching as students were forever making mistakes with their magic and knowing that if you were given that chance, you wouldn't make a single mistake.
No wonder Filch had grown so grumpy.
As for Katie Bell, she was transferred to St Mungo's Hospital in London, the same place that Dad was sent last year after he was attacked by Lord Voldemort's snake. Her friends, particularly Leanne who was there when Katie touched the necklace, receive regular updates and a couple of them even received special permission from Dumbledore and their parents to visit Katie in hospital. She's supposed to be doing as well as could be expected, now being able to feed herself and formulate small sentences. But no matter how many people have asked her, Leanne, Dumbledore, McGonagall, even delegates from the Ministry of Magic, she refuses to speak. She claims that she can't remember, but I overheard Leanne talking to Hermione as I passed them at the Gryffindor table. "She knows something," Leanne had said, her voice dripping with concern for her hospitalised friend. "But it's as if she's scared to say anything."
Something tells me that Leanne is right.
In the first week of November, about two weeks after Katie's attack, a letter arrived for me during breakfast by one of the school owls. As I looked around the rest of the Great Hall and the other students eating their morning meal, I saw that a few others, including Harry, Hermione and Ginny, had all received identical letters. Curious, I opened the letter up and read the italic green writing printed formally onto a piece of soft card.
To Miss Juliet Katerina Weasley,
You are cordially invited to attend a dinner party at the invitation of Professor Horace Slughorn.
The dinner will take place on Saturday 16th November at 7pm sharp. There will be drinks, dinner prepared by one of the finest chefs in the wizarding world, and the opportunity to meet with ex-student of Professor Slughorn and Captain of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team Gwenog Jones.
The dress code is smart - but don't turn up in full dress robes!
If you are able to attend, please inform Professor Slughorn a.s.a.p.
We look forward to your presence!
I finish reading the invitation, my eyebrows raised so high that it feels as if they've disappeared into my hair. Behind me, someone clears their throat. I turn slowly to see dishevelled black hair, bright green eyes and circular metal glasses. A friendly warmth soared through me and I flashed a genuine smile, something that's usually only reserved for Draco these days. Harry.
"Hey, you got one too then?" he says, gesturing towards the invite and envelope that I'd tossed onto the table. I nodded as I picked up a piece of toast and began to nibble at the edges. "Are you going?" he asked. I sighed in exasperation. "It doesn't seem like I have much choice." We both look up to the teachers table, where Slughorn is sat, looking out proudly at the Great Hall and the students.
Harry gives me a half smile. "Who else is going?" I ask.
I can't deny Harry's bravery - he's stood right next to the Slytherin table, the majority of whom hate him to the extent where they would happily perform the killing curse, and doesn't seem to notice. But then to be fair, he's survived a curse that is impossible to survive, killed a basilisk with only a sword, saved the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort, helped Sirius Black escape from right under the Ministry's nose, fought off a hundred dementors at once, survived the Triwizard Tournament and fought Lord Voldemort more times than I can count. I doubt a group of venomous Slytherins would scare him.
Harry thought for a moment. "I know that Hermione and Ginny also got invitations. So did Neville, Cormac McLaggen, Marcus Belby and a few others. Any other Slytherins?"
I look down the table and see that Blaise has an invite, as do Flora and Hestia Carrow, the identical twins in the year above. Draco isn't here, neither is Honey, but I can see that Sophia also has an invitation. She shoots me an inquisitive looks when she notices Harry, and I just shake my head - don't ask. It's better than trying to explain what I'm doing talking to Harry Potter.
"Blaise, the Carrow twins and Sophia from who I can see. I can find out who else, although I doubt it's anybody interesting. Gwenog Jones eh? Bet Ginny's excited." I cast a glance over to my little sister, who has been a lifelong fan of the Harpies despite our brother's attempts to convert her. Gwenog Jones was her idol, she'd be unable to believe that someone like her, someone like us, Weasley's, would get to meet the best female Quidditch player of our generation.
Harry smiles softly, casting a glance over his shoulder to my little sister, and his cheeks flushing slightly red. I raise an eyebrow - it's been obvious to me for a while that Harry has come to grow feelings for Ginny. Nobody else - except probably Hermione - seems to have noticed. But Harry's not exactly inconspicuous about it.
"Can you meet me in the library later?" Harry asks suddenly, turning his attention back to me. I think about the day I have ahead - double Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Defence against the Dark Arts and a free period after lunch. I have some letters to write to Charlie and Damon, but with an entire extra hour at the end of the day, I'm sure I could squeeze Harry in. "Sure, I have a free period last lesson." Harry scans through his schedule quickly. "Yeah, I'll meet you then. I have something to tell you..."
His eyes flick up, and we both look to see Draco stood in the doorway of the Great Hall. As usual, he has a drained expression, with not much more colour to his skin than the ghosts of Hogwarts. But his eyes flare with protective anger when he sees Harry talking to me. "You'd better go," I tell him, "I'll meet you later."
Harry nods and grins, before pushing past Draco and returning to his own table. "What did Potter want?" Draco hisses. I shrug as I take out my Transfiguration homework and start to write. "No idea."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The day drags by slower than one of Professor Binn's History of Magic lessons. I spend the entire day wondering what it is that Harry could possibly have to tell me than couldn't be said in the Great Hall, something secret and important no doubt.
After my lunch, I rushed to the library and gladly found it almost empty, only the sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors having a free period right now. I'd made an excuse with Draco, saying that I needed to Professor Sprout about some extra Herbology revision, and seeing as Draco no longer took Herbology, there was no need for him to accompany me. Draco didn't argue much, simply replying that he'd see me later and then disappearing from the Great Hall. Disappearing for probably hours on end for the third time already this week.
I found an empty table hidden between two giant shelves of books, in an area rarely frequented by students. Whilst I waited for Harry to arrive, I took out some parchment from my bag and began to compose a letter to Damon that I'd been meaning to write for a while now.
Dear Damon,
Things are strange here at Hogwarts, stranger than usual. I'm not sure whether it's the added pressure of the NEWTs or something different entirely, but there's a dark, almost strained air around the school, and I don't like it one bit.
The new potions master, Horace Slughorn, has this peculiar little club where he recruits the brightest and most famous students in the school. He's supposed to have had all the best in there, including Gwenog Jones, Ambrosius Flume, Professor Snape and many more of our world's brightest stars. Now though he's asked me to join, along with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and a couple of others. He's hosting a dinner party next weekend, and I think he expects me to attend, so I can't really get out of it.
I'm glad to hear that your running of the Leaky Cauldron is going well and that the regulars have accepted you. Hopefully now that you're in charge, you'll get rid of that vile painting of an ogre in the rooms upstairs that roars and shrieks at you whenever you pass. I know that Old Tom liked it, so if he liked it that much then he can have it in his house, see how long it takes for him to change his mind.
The Christmas break can't come soon enough. Thinking that it's still nearly two months away is causing me almost physical pain to think about. Still, I'm keeping myself going in the hope that when I come and visit you and the new Leaky Cauldron, I'll be pleasantly surprised.
Thanks for the parcel of entirely vomit-flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans that you sent me last time, I had a lot of fun leaving the box around the Slytherin common room and watching as Pansy Parkinson began to retch into a hat that one of the second years had left lying around.
Hope you're well and that business will pick up soon - I'm sure that when people hear you got rid of the portrait of the ogre that they'll risk being attacked by Death Eaters and come to stay in the pub.
See you soon,
Juliet.
I read the letter through, and grimace with practically every word. It sounds incredibly strained, and the jokes that I'd made in an attempt to lighten the mood of the letter had failed miserably and just sounded sarcastic. Frustrated, I crumpled the letter up into a ball and tossed it into the bin, huffing loudly for extra measure.
"Hi Li," I hear Harry's voice behind me. He pulls out a seat at the desk next to me and flashes me an awkward smile. I try to smile back at him, but it comes out as more of a frown. Great.
We're alone in this part of the library, but that doesn't stop Harry from checking to make sure that we're not being listened to. Whatever it is that he has to say, obviously should not be overheard. I cross my ankles beneath the desk and tap, waiting for him to decide it's safe enough and tell me why he called me here today. Then, he takes a deep breathe, and begins to speak.
"Dumbledore has given me a special task. It's a highly important one, that if we discover, could give us an advantage over Voldemort."
I gasp slightly, but clench my fists. "What sort of advantage?" I hiss.
Harry looks over his shoulder once more. "You have to promise that you'll tell nobody. None of your friends, not Draco, none of the Professors. And particularly not Professor Slughorn."
I frown. "What has Slughorn got to do with it?" I ask. Harry shakes his head. "You have to promise Li, swear on your life. If it gets out and Voldemort finds out that we're looking for it, he'll kill Slughorn. It's the only chance we have of killing Voldemort once and for all."
I let out a sort of hysterical cackle that morphs into a pained sob. "Harry," I stutter through angry tears that are clogging my throat. "I hardly have a life left to swear on, because of him. I will do anything and everything to bring him down. Even if that means dying for it." I reach out my hand to him, hardly able to stop it shaking. Harry stares at me for a moment, his eyes flickering behind his metal framed glasses, and then finally he smiles. "I knew you'd say that."
Harry clears his throat and adjusts his glasses on his nose, before speaking again. "Ok, you know about the Slug Club and how Slughorn only recruits the best into it?" I nod slowly, unsure of where this was going, but listening anyway. "Voldemort was in the Slug Club, back when he went by Tom Riddle. He was supposed to be the best student in his year. Nobody knew what he was going to become of course, if they had..." Harry drifts off, and I know he's thinking about his parents. I place my hand on his supportively, squeezing it. "Go on Harry," I will him to continue.
"Anyway, Voldemort trusted Slughorn entirely - he was supposedly the only teacher that Voldemort ever liked. So, one night after a meeting of the Slug Club, Voldemort asked Slughorn a question about a very powerful piece of ancient magic."
I lean closer. "What is it?" I whisper.
"We don't know."
I jump back at bit, raising my eyebrows in surprise. "Slughorn gave the memory to Dumbledore a while ago, but it had been tampered with. Edited, I suppose. Slughorn gave Voldemort some information, but he erased whatever it was he told him. All we know is that it could be the secret to destroying Voldemort once and for all."
I nod slowly. "Ok, let me guess, Dumbledore wants you to find out Slughorn's secret, and you need my help?"
Harry blinks a few times. "Actually, that was exactly what I was going to ask you. Slughorn knows how close I am to Dumbledore, that we're close. He knows that I tell Dumbledore everything, and so might be more inclined to slip his secret to you, because he trusts you."
I raise an eyebrow but nod slowly. "Does Dumbledore know you're asking for my help?"
Harry's eyes twinkle as he smirks. "Well, maybe I don't tell Dumbledore everything. Hogwarts is full of secrets waiting to be discovered Li, you just have to have the curiosity to look."
I agreed with Harry that I'd start trying to get the secret out of Slughorn as discreetly as I could so that he didn't realise what we were up to, and we arranged to meet in the library at the same time next week in order to reconvene where it's quiet and we have less of a chance of being overheard. As I leave, I find myself thinking and realise that Harry is right - Hogwarts is definitely full of secrets, and though I could try to deny it, I certainly have a lot of curiosity.