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Back to Chapter 4
Erik woke up early the next morning, in time to see Karl Lykos creeping into the dorm in his dressing gown, and was surprised to realise that the dread of last night had mostly evaporated. He waved at Karl, who startled then waved back and went off to the bathroom. It was a very strange feeling to have allies, to be in a situation where it wasn't everyone for themselves, to be able to feel protective towards someone, to choose to share the danger. He showered and combed his hair, then went to get dressed. He hadn't been fond of the idea of wearing a uniform again, but the clothes were comfortable and warm and the right size, and the different colours were badges of honour, not shame. Besides, no matter where he went to school the odds were that he'd have to wear some kind of uniform so this was pretty good, considering.
This morning, all the First Years had the same class – Defence Against the Dark Arts – and Erik had, taking the example of the Ravenclaws, had read some of the textbook in advance. The book had been written by the previous Professor Merrythought, and edited by her daughter, the current Professor Merrythought.. It seemed to be a mix between the history of particular Dark wizards and witches and their aggressions, and practical spellwork. Erik had already been practising the most basic of the spells, Finito Incantem which would end spells currently in use. He was determined to cast Finito Incantem on himself at least once a day, just in case. So far he hadn't noticed any changes.
Armando wandered over and sat down on Erik's bed. "Morning."
"Good morning. What do you want?"
Armando's eyebrows flew up. "Wow, I see you're not a morning person. You seemed really upset all yesterday, so I was going to ask if you felt better now."
"Yes, I'm fine." Erik thought for a moment. "Actually, can I ask you a question?"
"Any time!"
"Your dad was on a merchant vessel during the war – did they ever get attacked by Grindelwald's people?"
"Yeah, actually they did. Why do you want to hear about it?"
Erik lowered his voice. "Grindelwald stopped other wizards helping Jews or Gypsies. I'm trying to work out why."
"My mum was always a bit dubious about Grindelwald. She used to say that first he'd be all about wizard supremacy then who knows where it would stop! He was awfully cosy with all those Nazi bastards, that's for sure, and they'd have killed me soon as looked at me. Anyway, my dad's ship was in a convoy from the US and they encountered some weird conditions off Ireland. My dad's a pretty good weather wizard, if nothing else, so he'd get it settled down, then the waves would whip up again, but there wasn't much wind."
"So it was magic. Why?"
Armando shook his head. "It was a Muggle convoy, but there were often a few wizards riding along, helping the war effort, you know? Mostly Muggle-borns, though my dad isn't. He just happened to be working there. So anyway, these wizards come swooping down on broomsticks and kill one of the wizards on the convoy stone dead, and everyone's running around thinking they're getting strafed by Germans. They set two ships on fire, so everyone's trying to put that out or abandon ship and it's a big mess. So my dad thinks, right then, and he whistles up a nice choppy wind to knock them off their broomsticks, and one of them lands right on the deck and breaks his neck."
Erik nodded, fascinated. "Your dad sounds powerful."
"No, not at all! He's spent a lot of time at sea, though, and my mum had protection work all over his ship. So my dad and the two surviving wizards pick up the dead guy and his broomstick to hide it, and he all dissolves into sulphur and makes that Grindelwald triangle symbol on the deck. How stupid is that? The water's still choppy, so it washes away in no time and then my dad had to hide the broomstick all the way to the docks. Anyway, he got home and told us about it, and he reckoned that Grindelwald doesn't care what Muggles do, and he doesn't care what wizards do, as long as they're separate. He'd hang around wherever the Muggle war was worst and watch for wizards trying to help, so he'd see who'd oppose him and he could kill 'em."
"So the wizards trying to help Jews was irrelevant – it was more that Grindelwald would go wherever really bad things were happening to Muggles and wait for wizards who considered Muggles important to show up."
"Yeah, pretty much. He was supposed to be hanging around a lot of the big battles, too. Like a great big crow."
Erik didn't say anything, but Armando laughed, and he realised that it had been a joke. Erik had been thinking of Warsaw, and the crow he'd caught which they'd then cooked and eaten for dinner, and how much he wanted stab Shaw as he'd stabbed the crow. Erik tried to laugh too, copying Armando, but he couldn't keep that going for long.
"Thanks," Erik said. "No-one wants to talk about Grindelwald. You'd think it was a hundred years ago, not last year."
"Maybe that's why they won't talk about it: they're glad it's over?"
"But it's not over. They only wish it was."
"Don't you?" Armando's voice was tentative.
"Wishing for things doesn't make them happen."
Erik didn't say anything more, but got dressed, grabbed his books and went out into the common room. He agreed with Armando's mother: first the authorities tried to separate different kinds of people, then they started killing them. He wouldn't be one of those people anymore. He had to harness the power he had while he could.
There were only a few people in the common room this early: several Quidditch hopefuls throwing a tiny shuttlecock around, the few coffee drinkers making their choice of beverage - there was only tea or hot milk downstairs - and Alex Summers sitting at a desk trying to write a letter.
Erik took a secluded seat in a nook of brickwork and continued reading Hogwarts: A History. He could hear the two older girls who were throwing the shuttlecock talking, and tried to ignore them, but the conversation wormed its way into his head anyway.
"So, that First Year, Summers, I hear that in America he was in jail."
"Really? But he's so little and cute! But surly, I suppose."
"Yeah, well, apparently he killed someone when his magic kicked in so they threw him in jail."
"So what's he doing here? Shouldn't he be at an American school? I mean, that Xavier boy and his sister and brother, at least they have ties to England."
"I heard Summers was too dangerous. If his accidental magic is strong enough to kill someone, imagine what would happen if he really tried to hurt you! Oh, watch out!" The speaker grabbed the shuttlecock, and hurled it across the room.
"So, do you think you'll make Seeker this year?"
They went on to talk about Quidditch, and Erik wrenched his attention away. Charles had said that he'd come over from America with several other students: Alex Summers must be one of them. Maybe Charles would know more. It could be very handy to have a deadly out-of-control wizard at hand if they had to confront Shaw.
He turned his attention to his book, and started reading about the Founders. It seemed that Grindelwald was far from the first wizard to have the idea about purity of bloodline: even Salazar Slytherin was supposed to have had the same line of thought. Erik dug a fingernail into the book, gouging Slytherin's name out of the page. They were idiots: magic obviously wasn't about bloodlines. It was about power.
He didn't see Charles at breakfast, but afterwards, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, he slipped into a seat beside Charles, Moira on his other side. Raven waved to him from the far side of the classroom where she was sitting with a group of Hufflepuff and Slytherin girls.
"Raven doesn't want to sit with you?" he asked Charles.
"I'm her brother – of course she doesn't." Charles didn't seem bothered by this, instead passing Erik a list of names. "I copied this from Moira's list – it's the supposed followers of Grindelwald who are not in prison or dead."
"Thanks."
Moira leaned over Charles. "Now we know which names to be alert for. Be careful with the Mitfords – the ones on that list were with Grindelwald but their sisters fought against him."
The name wasn't familiar to Erik, so he shrugged. "Armando said some of Grindelwald's men attacked his dad's ship during the war, targeting the wizards who were working with Muggles. One of the attackers died and his body turned into Grindelwald's symbol."
Moira brightened. "There's reports of that elsewhere, too – we grabbed some toast and spent time in the library this morning. We would have had more time if Charles wasn't such a wretched slug-a-bed."
Charles looked indignant, but before he could reply, a small, plump woman with soft grey curls swept into the room. Erik immediately sat up straight in his seat. Not all of his classmates could see it, by the way they continued to chat and move about, but she had the bearing of a combat veteran, scanning the room with a cool, calculating eye and moving swiftly to find a safe position in the room.
"Good morning," she said, in a low voice that cut through the classroom. As she turned, surveying the students, Erik could see that one hand was encased in a heavy leather glove and moved awkwardly. "I am Professor Merrythought. Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Put your books away – from next week, I expect you to have read the relevant chapter before class. Skip straight to Chapter Two – Chapter One is a load of rubbish."
Several of the students giggled at this. Erik didn't, though he did agree with the Professor, as that chapter was all about not using magic on fellow students and pledging to only use the spells included in the textbook in a dangerous situation.
"Right. Ravenclaws, put your pens away, too. This is a practical lesson." There was a brief shuffle as they did so.
"Come to the front of the room, all of you, then wands out!" She waved her wand and a row of paper targets appeared at the front of the room, right above her head. Each one had a student's name on it, alphabetically by surname. "Line up in front of your target!"
Erik was between Moira and Karl, and took his wand out, pleased to be doing something.
"The jinx I'm teaching you is a very basic one, but has many applications. One name for it is the Knockback Jinx." Another target popped up in the centre of the room and Professor Merrythought jabbed her wand forward with a slight upward motion. "Flipendo!"
A soft blue light flashed and the paper target shredded into pieces.
"Will it hurt someone if we cast it on them?" It was Amahl Farouk from Slytherin, and he seemed rather interested in the prospect.
Professor Merrythought's laugh was a short bark. "No, it's not powerful enough, even when I'm casting it. This is Defence Against the Dark Arts, Mr Farouk, and we concentrate here on two things: defensive spells and knowing your enemy." Gazing around at the students, she said, "Mr Marko – you're a big strong lad. May I borrow you for a moment, to demonstrate?"
"Sure," Cain said and plodded over to her. In a moment, her wand was pointed at his chest, jabbed forward, and with the word Flipendo, Cain was knocked back a step.
"Did that hurt, Mr Marko?"
"Uh, no." Cain sounded more surprised than anything, but the fingers of Erik's left hand were so tense around his wand that it took a touch from Moira to uncurl them. His knuckles ached.
Professor Merrythought had sent Cain over to his place in line and was standing behind the row of students. "Wands up, please! Cast your spell when you're ready."
Erik immediately brought his wand up, trying to work on instinct, and jabbed it forward. "Flipendo!"
There were flurries of shouts, the noise of ripping paper and the clatter of a toppling chair as everyone cast their Knockback Jinx, pieces of paper flying everywhere. When Fred Dukes had finally cast his jinx, Professor Merrythought held out her hand and all the paper targets flew to her in a neat stack.
"Some very good work here, students, and some of you missing the target completely. Mr Madrox, you took down my chair, I believe. Mr Summers, you've hit Miss Yoshida's target, which is quite a feat at that angle. Does anyone have an idea how to improve your aim? Mr Lehnsherr – you've hit your target dead centre."
Erik wasn't sure what to say, but Moira was going pink as if she was about to burst in her effort to give the answer, so he spoke quickly. "Focus?"
"Correct! Five points to Gryffindor for that excellent shot. You are all either experiencing or beginning adolescence now, which is not a very comfortable time in your body. Fortunately, magic is primarily focused by the mind. Mr Lehnsherr hit his target perfectly not because he's tall or strong, but because he focused his intent."
Tanya Trask's hand was up. "Professor, why do we use wand gestures, then?"
"Let me demonstrate." Professor Merrythought stuck a fresh target to the wall and drew her wand, pointing it at the floor. "Aresto Visio! Flipendo!"
The flash of pale blue was immensely slowed so everyone could watch its path across the room. It arced up from the professor's wand straight to the target, ripping a hole in the flimsy paper.
"As you see, you don't necessarily need to point the wand to hit your target, but pointing is very helpful for your focus. The movements we teach are those that wizards and witches of the past have studied and found the most useful for releasing or shaping magical energy. If you have enough focus and power, you don't need to speak; a very few wizards don't even need a wand for basic spells. I strongly recommend that beginning wizards learn the most appropriate gestures and the right word: if nothing else, it will be on the test."
Tanya Trask nodded eagerly. The Professor gestured and more paper targets floated into view.
"Now, I want to see at least three hits by each of you. Stay in line for safety, and cast your spell whenever you're ready."
Erik raised his wand. Professor Merrythought was right: it did help him focus his energy, and shape exactly what he was trying to do with it. Even casting such a minor spell, he felt more powerful than he had ripping steel tables apart and crushing helmets. This didn't tire him at all, and he could control the power with confidence and concentration. Those he was not lacking.
The classroom was a chaotic mess of paper and shouts and blue-tinged light for the next hour, as Professor Merrythought went from student to student assisting them with their technique and focus. Erik listened carefully as she encouraged Moira to focus on only one thing at a time, though her only words for him were to try to use smaller gestures to see how well that worked. By the end of the class, some of the students were exhausted – particularly Alex Summers, making Erik doubt his dangerous reputation – but others seemed full of energy.
He walked on to lunch with Charles and Moira, both of whom seemed exhilarated by the lesson.
"You were great, Erik!" Charles was grinning widely. "You hit the target every time!"
"You kept changing your mind and thinking about other things, I saw you," Erik replied, but Charles only laughed.
Moira pulled them close together before they reached the Great Hall. "Listen, I might have learned something else. I was reading about that ghost, Myrtle, who lives in the girls' toilets…"
"There's a ghost in the toilets?" Erik was incredulous. "Is it dangerous?"
"Not really, she's just a Ravenclaw student. All she did was splash water and fly around. Anyway, she only died a few years ago. And guess what? That year there were four other students who were attacked, all Muggle-born. The rest survived, though."
"Do you think Grindelwald had an agent inside the school?" Charles gasped.
Moira made a dubious face. "Even if he did, they might not still be here."
"We have to find out. If someone's going to help Shaw get hold of Raven and we don't know who they are, that's a major problem."
Charles frowned and patted Erik's arm. "Not to mention, Dumbledore hasn't cast that charm yet, so they can report to Shaw that you're here."
Moira nodded vigorously.
Erik listened to them, but he had nothing to say. The confidence and strength he'd felt a mere ten minutes ago seemed very distant now; everyone was too close to him and too loud and all pouring forward in the same direction like they were being driven. He quickly ducked down a side corridor and Moira and Charles detoured with him.
"Are you all right?" Charles asked, with concern rather than pity.
"Sit down, put your head between your knees," Moira snapped, forcing Erik to sit down on a bench. "You need to get blood flow back to your head."
Erik did as she said, although he didn't feel any better bent forward, unable to see what was going on.
Charles and Moira sat either side of him.
"You know," Charles said after a moment, "There's lots of people we can eliminate, even if we're assuming Grindelwald's contact is still here, and that he or she is in touch with Shaw."
Erik could feel Moira nodding, as she rubbed a circle on his back. "Yes, that's true. It was three years ago, so anyone in Third Year or lower now couldn't be involved. They wouldn't have been here."
"What about Professors? Professor Merrythought didn't teach here then – her mother did. And Professor Shomron from Astronomy, he wasn't here either."
"It wouldn't be him," Erik managed to say. "It won't be anyone Jewish. Or Chinese, or Black. Grindelwald's people worked with the Nazis."
Charles crouched down beside Erik. "You're looking a bit better. Good. Hey, Moira, maybe you could ask the ghost what happened? Even if she doesn't know who killed her, she might remember something that helps us."
"The details aren't in Hogwarts: A History and that's supposed to update automatically," Moira agreed. "Do you mind if I take Raven with me? She seemed to like Raven and I, uh, I yelled at Myrtle. A lot."
"As long as you don't have to say anything about our plans and Shaw, you should be fine?" Charles sounded uncertain.
Erik shook his head, his nausea receding. "Charles, it's Moira. You're the one who has trouble keeping his mouth shut, not her!"
Charles laughed, and together with Moira, helped Erik up. He didn't really need it, although he still felt a bit shaky and dreadfully hungry, but he let them anyway.
Moira dusted off her skirt where it had got dusty on the bench. "Right, let's go and get some food into you."
Erik glanced at each of them, but neither of them seemed angry or disgusted, only concerned for him. This was Hogwarts, he reminded himself. There was plenty of everything, and he was not making them weak.
---
Moira finished off her bowl of soup, wiped the bowl clean with the remains of her bread roll and went over to the Hufflepuff table to find Raven. She was glad that Charles and Erik hadn't insisted on coming along: it would be very strange to take them to a girls' toilet. She was rather glad that Raven would be with her, though. She wasn't scared of the ghost, really, she was uncomfortable making someone who had died horribly talk about her death. Also, she would rather not be splashed with toilet water again. Myrtle the ghost had at least been interested in talking to Raven – why else would she have followed her from toilet to toilet wailing her name? – so Moira would have to use that to their advantage.
"Raven! Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Raven chewed and swallowed her mouthful of sandwich and turned around on her bench. "Sure!"
Moira glared at Raven's friends, Mariko and Petra. "In private!"
Raven rolled her big yellow eyes at Moira. "Let me finish my lunch first! Is this to do with my brother? He's so boring!"
"No, it's not. I'll meet you outside the main doors."
Moira waited impatiently, but Raven must have been impatient with the secrecy, too, because she only took a minute or two to hurry out, brushing crumbs from her jumper. As soon as Moira started walking towards the corridor that led to the greenhouse, Raven worked out where they were going.
"We're going to see Myrtle the ghost! Why?"
"Because Myrtle was murdered, and I can't find information about it in the books. Don't you think that's strange?"
Raven kept walking alongside Moira, but shook her head. "It wasn't very long ago. Maybe it was only in newspapers?"
"No, my book magically updates itself. It has all the House Cup and Quidditch winners – surely it should include a murder!"
Raven changed into a considerably less transparent simulacrum of the ghost. "She's not much older than us. It's really sad."
"Don't do that, Raven, I don't want her to think you're teasing her."
"Oh! Good point!" Raven shifted to her blue self and gave Moira a sideways glance. "Do you think the person who killed her is the one who's a danger to me? Does Charles think that?"
"I think it's possible," Moira told her, cursing Raven's inquisitiveness. "We should find out what happened so we can rule it out."
They had arrived at the bathroom door, and Moira pushed it open with only slight hesitation.
"Myrtle, are you there? It's Moira and Raven, come to talk to you."
With a high-pitched wailing sound, Myrtle came flying out of one of the cubicles, zooming around near the ceiling. "Nobody cares about me!"
"Of course we do, Myrtle," Moira said firmly. "That's why we want to find out what happened to you."
"Yeah! To find out if they got punished!" Raven added.
Myrtle seemed to be pleased by this, because she stopped wailing and floated closer to them. "Really? You don't think it was my fault? Because that's just the kind of the thing that happens to Myrtle?"
"That's a terrible thing to say! Who'd say that?" Raven seemed oblivious to the fact that some of the older girls had said exactly that to her a few days ago.
"Olive Hornby, that's who! Ooh, she was sorry she teased me when I turned up at the Yule Ball and left slime all over her dress!"
Moira thought for a moment – there was a sixth year in her House name Olive, a tall sulky girl. She'd be the right age to have shared a dorm with Myrtle. "Oh, her. She always looks as if she's smelling something bad."
Myrtle giggled. "Well, I did put a dead fish in her bed once. Someone flushed their goldfish down the toilet and it came right down to me!"
She and Raven seemed to share a sense of humour because they both howled laughing at that.
Moira glanced at the watch she'd got for her last birthday. Lunchtime was nearly over. "But Olive Hornby didn't kill you, did she? I'd be pretty worried if they let the killer stay at the school!"
"Oooh, but they did!" Myrtle floated closer and both Moira and Raven shivered with the damp chill of her presence. "They said it was all an accident, but I don't call opening the Chamber of Secrets an accident! And releasing dangerous spiders!"
"You were killed by a spider?" Raven sounded terribly upset for her.
"I don't really remember that part, but that's what everyone said. A stupid Gryffindor boy had been hiding an acromantula in the school and it petrified four people and killed me. And then they made him assistant groundskeeper!" Myrtle wailed again and flew up to the ceiling. "And nobody even cares!" With a loud splash, she plummeted into a toilet and was gone.
Moira took Raven's hand and hurried out.
"It was Mr Hagrid?" Raven sounded enthralled. "We saw him when we got here on the train! They didn't tell us he was a murderer, even accidentally!"
Moira frowned. "It seems strange to keep him here if he's dangerous to people. Maybe it really was an accident and all he did was bring in the acromantula. Or it tricked him – they're supposed to be intelligent."
"But Mr Hagrid looked nice!"
"It doesn't mean he couldn't be tricked!" Moira gave Raven a little push off towards the Potions classroom – the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins had their second lesson of the week while the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws would be at Transfiguration. Actually, Moira was rather hoping that Mr Hagrid was a brutal murderer, because then they'd have to worry that intelligent spiders were working for Grindelwald, and that was the last thing they needed. Still, most creatures were entirely uninterested in human affairs: even when Grindelwald had sent various creatures into the cities to attempt to spread fear, they'd mostly been interested in having lots of people to eat. Moira's mother had been part of a group capturing an African Tebo on the loose in Glasgow – its tendency to turn invisible was as useful in the streets as in the jungle – and that creature certainly had no idea why it was there, only that it needed to kill and eat many people to survive the cold.
Hurrying off to join the students heading for the Transfiguration class, Moira hoped that Erik was feeling better. He was such a strange boy and she could never predict what he was going to do next. Still, she thought he was trustworthy, one of those people who will tell you nothing rather than lie. And he obviously thought the same of her, since he told her and Charles so much about his past.
She made it to class well on time and dropped into a seat next to Charles, who had taken her satchel to class for her. Erik was on his other side.
"Oof! Well, we talked to Myrtle. She says that Mr Hagrid, you've met him, the assistant groundskeeper, he brought an acromantula into the castle and it paralysed some students then killed Myrtle."
"That doesn't make any sense," Erik snapped. "Acromantulas are poisonous, but they leave great big bite marks. And they don't attack you for no reason, they attack you and eat you."
Charles looked more alarmed, rather than less. "You're saying it couldn't have been an acromantula because it would have eaten its victim? How big are these things?"
"The couple I stayed with in Ireland used to hunt magically-created beasts for a living, when they were younger. They said most acromantulas are about the size of a car, but they can get much bigger."
"What if it was a baby one?" Moira wasn't scared of spiders usually, but she was quite prepared to be cautious about anything likely to eat her.
"No poison – they don't develop it until they're mature. And usually they live in nests of thirty or more spiders."
"Don't say nests!" Charles shuddered. "Maybe we should talk to Mr Hagrid and ask him?"
"You don't think he'll attack us?" Erik asked, and Moira almost laughed before realising he was entirely serious.
"I don't think they would have let him stay if he liked to attack people," Moira had to whisper, as Dumbledore was entering the room and everyone was quietening down.
The lesson was more practice of integral transformation, this time separating ink from water. Erik technically succeeded by making the water vanish, leaving the ink behind in a cracked glass, much to his surprise. It was Karl Lykos who was most successful, carefully removing a small quantity of the ink over and over until it was all in the second glass. He nearly vanished under his seat when he was awarded House points, despite the encouragement of Armando and Suzanne.
After class, Moira poked Charles in the ribs. "You should go and talk to Mr Hagrid."
"Why me?" Charles whined.
"You and Erik. He's a Gryffindor so they should get along perfectly. And you can be there so he'll have to kill you both to get away with it."
"That's not comforting!"
Erik pulled him along by the arm. "Don't worry, Moira, I'll return him to the Ravenclaw dorm in one piece. Are you coming too?"
"No, I'm trying to get on the chess team and they've got a meeting this afternoon."
"But I want to be on the chess team!" Charles was definitely pouting now.
"Do you want me to be eaten by a giant spider?" Erik asked, pointedly.
"Well, no…and I'm pretty rusty with chess. No-one would play me."
"There you go." Moira dusted off her hands. "You can teach Erik when you get back."
"I can play, regular chess anyway," Erik protested.
"It's pretty much the same!" Charles was off and running on one of his long and drawn-out explanations, and Erik dragged him safely outside.
Moira smirked and ran off for the Ravenclaw common room. There were only two spots on the team for First Years, and one was going to be hers, even if it did mean Charles and Erik being horribly murdered and eaten by spiders. Well. Maybe she'd go to rescue them when the meeting was over.
---
Erik pulled Charles right through the castle and out the door that led to the greenhouse before he finished explaining the implications of the violent displays of the pieces in chess, when played wizard-style. Charles thought Erik would really enjoy the game, once he started playing.
"I don't see what it adds to the game," Erik muttered.
"Oh, not much to start with, but then the pieces develop their own personalities! It makes it more of a little battle than mathematics – pieces will betray each other and make alliances and it's a lot of fun. But you have to warm the board up, first. There's even famous sets used for tournaments!" Charles and his father had been planning to go to one in Antwerp, before the war started and made travel to the continent impossible.
"Where do you think Mr Hagrid is right now?" Erik asked, and Charles skidded to a verbal halt, realising that they were outside.
"Uh, I don't know? We could go and ask someone."
"No, definitely not." Erik was firm on this point. "We can't give ourselves away. One thing that I've noticed about wizards that's just the same everyone else: they don't trust anyone not the same as they are, not even people from other countries. And Mr Hagrid is what, ten feet tall?"
"Probably part-giant," Charles agreed. "Or even if it was a growth potion mix-up or a spell gone wrong or something, that's what people are going to say."
"Giants have babies with wizards?" Erik shook his head. "Never mind. Of course they do.. Anyway, what I mean is that if I was going to pin a crime on somebody at Hogwarts, I'd pick the person who was different. I don't know about the spiders, though."
Charles was starting to feel most alarmed by Erik's plan. "Are we going to walk up and ask him, hello sir, are you a murderer?"
"I don't think that's a very good way to get information from someone, do you? There, he's over near the pumpkin patch."
Indeed, Hagrid was shovelling a big pile of manure into careful rows along the pumpkin vines. Green pumpkins about the size of Erik's head were nestled into the twirls and loops of vine, and Hagrid was careful not to damage them with his shovel. In the distance, the Forbidden Forest loomed dark and tangled.
Erik wasted no time. He strode down the hill to the pumpkin patch, Charles scurrying behind him, and waved to Hagrid, who waved back. Charles wasn't sure what to do – he'd never spoken to a suspected murderer before – but he supposed Erik had probably been around a lot of murderers and would know what to do. Mr Hagrid wouldn't have a wand, but Charles wasn't silly enough to think that that was sufficient protection.
"Hello, lads!" Hagrid said, leaning on his shovel. "You're a bit early if you're after pumpkins!"
"I wanted to ask you a question, actually." Erik replied. "I'm Erik, this is Charles."
"Oh, right, right – you're the wee lad Dumbledore took over to Ireland."
Erik spluttered as if he was about to protest this description, but with Hagrid towering over him, it was too ridiculous to argue. "Yes. Listen, if you were responsible for that girl dying three years ago, why are you still working here?"
Hagrid turned bright red beneath his patchy beard. Charles took a step back, and even Erik looked alarmed.
Erik held his ground, though. "I don't think they'd have let you stay here if you really did kill someone, so what happened?"
Hagrid leaned in close. "I'm not saying you're right or wrong, mind, but you trust Dumbledore and he'll take care of you. He knows what goes on around here."
"Would he put students in danger?"
Laughing loudly, Hagrid slapped Erik on the shoulder, almost knocking him down. "Never! He's the one watching out for the students, more than anyone. That Headmaster Dippet doesn't see a ruddy thing that goes on around here. Who's the war hero? Dumbledore. No, lad, you stick with Dumbledore and you'll be fine."
Charles hadn't had much luck trying to understand wizards' minds, but Hagrid's sincerity was clear as day. He was one of those people who made no difference between his thoughts and his speech.
Charles spoke up. "What about the spiders?"
Hagrid shuffled one enormous foot. "Well, er, that might have been a bit of a mistake on my part, but I got hold of an acromantula egg, and the little fella hatched out, and, well, I couldn't leave him to starve!"
"No, of course not," Charles said, with a perfectly straight face.
"So when they needed a scapegoat, there I was. But, like I said, Dumbledore knew it wasn't me, so he sorted out a job and here I am."
"Thank you for clearing that up," Erik told him.
Charles hurried forward. "I'm really sorry that happened to you. Did they ever work out who was actually responsible?"
"Nope, no idea. All I know is that every last one of the kids was a Muggle-born." He surveyed both Erik and Charles, assessing them, and lowered his voice. "I told Dumbledore it might be one the creatures Grindelwald stole from their homes and scattered about, poor things. There's lots of beasts that are smart enough to follow instructions and can petrify their victims, so I'm hoping that as soon as Grindelwald went down, it scarpered off home."
"The petrifying stopped, then?" Erik watched him intently. Charles was more focused on Hagrid calling the beasts "poor things".
Hagrid nodded. "Not one problem since."
"Thank you." Erik stuck out a hand and Hagrid shook it. "If there were any more problems of that kind, could I ask you about them?"
"Course you can!" He shook hands with Charles as well, who was feeling much better now that he was sure Hagrid wasn't a murderer, and shooed them off towards the castle. "Off you go, then, I've got work to do."
Charles and Erik trudged up the grassy hill. Erik looked quite thoughtful.
"He's telling the truth – he wouldn't kill anyone, not even a horrible giant spider," Charles said.
"I agree. But it means that Grindelwald might have had agents in the school before, and Dumbledore never figured out who. Well, if he couldn't find them, there's no way we will."
"We might if they're a student!" Charles protested, but Erik cut him off.
"Maybe if we'd been here a few years, but we haven't. And most likely they were an older student, who would have now left, or a teacher anyway. You can trust children to spy on each other, but not with complicated undercover missions. Children worry about their parents and their home and having enough food, not politics." Erik sounded quite firm on the matter, so Charles thought he'd better not argue, even though he himself worried about politics quite a lot.
Moira walked down from the castle to meet them. "Well, I successfully made it onto the chess team, so I came to check that you weren't dead."
"Thanks for having such confidence in us," Erik told her, but Moira didn't seem troubled.
"You're welcome. Now, tell me what happened."
They all walked back to the castle, comparing information as they went, and Charles smiled. Even with the worry about the impending danger to Raven, he was truly happy to be here, with his friends, working together. Surely they could face anything that came their way?
---
By the time the pumpkins had ripened for Halloween, there were more students in their group. Erik had advised that they tell Armando, who knew more about the battles and tactics of the war than any of them and Armando had immediately agreed to help. He'd brought along Alex and Erik's constant, quiet interrogations revealed nothing more about the American boy than what they already knew. Alex's taciturn nature and stubbornness were a match for Erik's poking and prying.
The last two members of the group had been a surprise. Angel Salvadore had walked up to Erik and Charles one afternoon as they worked in the library.
"What's going on? I know it's something to do with Raven and you have to tell me what it is."
Charles had opened his mouth to deny everything, but Erik had leaned forward and stared her in the eye.
"Why do you care?" he snapped.
She didn't lower her gaze. "Raven's my friend. And because I know what kind of things people like to do to little girls because they can get away with it. And why aren't you telling her?"
Charles glanced from Erik to Angel, seeing some kind of conversation happening that he didn't understand, and Erik abruptly nodded.
"Okay. The only reason we haven't told Raven much about it is that she talks. If the information we have gets out, I might not be able to find out more."
"From Dumbledore? Okay, I get it. You're going to tell her if you find out the danger, aren't you?" It sounded more of a command than a question, and Charles wasn't surprised that Erik nodded.
Charles didn't know what had just happened, but if Erik was ready to trust Angel, Charles was happy to go along with it. He might have regretted that every time she was rude to him and Erik found it funny, though.
The last person in their group was a complete accident. They'd all been learning to fly on broomsticks – Charles and Moira weren't too bad at it, Erik was quite competent, Angel was fantastic – and the older students of each House were giving students extra practice on the weekends. The Hufflepuffs were the ones flying today, so Charles and his friends from the other houses had carried a vast amount of food up to an empty classroom most of the way up the Astronomy Tower. Erik and Moira insisted that they keep up spellcasting practice, even if they had admitted that there probably wasn't much they could do against an adult wizard.
Armando was explaining to Charles why they couldn't to go all the way to the top of the Tower – it was a notorious make-out spot for older students – when Moira and Angel yelled,
"Look out!"
Sean Cassidy came flying through the open window on his broom, performed an amazing half-twist to miss hitting Alex, and crashed in a heap on the floor, right on top of their list of Grindelwald associates and their abilities. Everyone held their breath for a moment, then Sean rolled to his feet and grinned.
"Ta-da! Hey, what are you doing here? And why does that paper say Grindelwald?"
Charles desperately hushed him, but the others had already heard.
Erik strode over, his face blank and cold, and grabbed Sean's arm so hard that Sean's face crumpled up as if he was about to cry.
"If you tell anyone about this, I will murder you and bury you where you won't be found, do you understand?"
"Y-yes!" Sean whimpered, his freckles standing out like marks on a map.
"Good." Erik shoved him towards the window, and Sean cast around desperately.
"Stop it, Erik." Charles got between them and the window, and Armando got hold of Sean's other arm.
"Come on, man, let him go," Armando didn't seem to be having any impact on Erik's icy fury.
Charles put his hand on Erik's where his fingers were bruising Sean's pale arm and started to pull his fingers off. "Let go. Sean isn't going to tell anyone. Threatening him is no way to conduct ourselves."
"He knows what will happen if he talks." Erik was letting Charles move his hand, though.
"Sean, once the flying lesson is over, why don't you come up here and have something to eat?" Charles was fairly sure that Erik wouldn't kill someone over lunch. "We can explain what's going on, and with flying skills like that, maybe you can help?"
"Or take my head off next time," Alex grouched.
Sean looked around, still shaken, but then he spotted their stash of food. "Sure, save me one of those cream buns and I'm in!"
Moira handed him his broom, with a hard glare at Erik, and Sean climbed out the window again. "See you soon!"
He flew back down to his group, and Charles realised he was still holding Erik's hand. Erik had been gripping Sean's arm and now Charles' hand so hard that all the blood had gone out of his fingers. He was staring down as if he didn't understand what to do next, so Charles led him away from the window to where they'd laid out their feast.
"Have something to eat, then we should practice more," Charles said, putting his other hand over Erik's to try to release his death-grip.
"Okay. Do you really think we can trust him?"
"I told you before, I can feel things about people sometimes. Sean is very honest – if he says he won't tell, he won't."
Erik seemed to find that acceptable and sat down to pour them both some lemonade. Charles turned around to find everyone else watching Erik carefully, as if he was about to grab them in the same way; Angel was close to the door, and the only one who had her hand on her wand.
Charles took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Come on, we'd better get some practice in if we want to look good in front of Sean. Moira, are you still after revenge for me beating you at chess?"
"That game isn't over yet!" Moira said indignantly, and drew her wand. "Let's go!"
The tension broke and everyone except Angel – who did take her hand off her wand, at least – relaxed and moved aside so they could watch the duel safely. It had been Armando who had suggested this as a way of practising for real danger, bringing an excellent book called "Great Duels of the Last Century, and Spells to Win Your Own." Most of the spells were far too complex, but a few of the jinxes had become favourites.
"Claudisi!" Moira yelled, making Charles stumble, but the weeks of practice meant that he managed to cast his spell anyway.
"Flipendo!" Unfortunately, Moira's stumbling jinx had worked well enough for Charles to completely miss her and bump Armando instead.
Moira closed in, "Expelliarmus!"
Charles dove to one side and her spell missed him entirely, but Moira was fast.
"Expelliarmus!" she tried again, and Charles' wand leapt from his hand to clatter on the floor.
Everyone clapped, and Alex yelled, "That's Moira 7, Charles 4!"
Charles laughed and they shook hands, and Angel stepped up to take on Moira next. They had to be a little more careful if Angel, Alex or Erik were the ones duelling – those three had a tendency to stop using spells and attack with fists and feet if they got riled up. Armando had once had to go to the infirmary when Alex struck him on the elbow with his wand and made his arm numb. Erik claimed that it was a good thing that they'd fight with anything to hand, but Charles had pointed out that while this might be true most of the time, it certainly wasn't true if they happened to be fighting a powerful wizard who would throw them across the room before they ever got close.
Just as Angel cast an Itching Hex on Moira, catching Alex at the edge of it, there was a commotion outside the classroom door. Erik, Armando and Angel were there in a moment, throwing the door open to see what was going on. On the stairs was Sean Cassidy, trying to wrestle the much taller Hank McCoy towards the door, while Hank was all over Sean trying to pry his way free.
"He was listening at the door!" Sean called out. "I came up to get my cream bun and saw him here!"
"What are you doing?" Erik yelled at Hank, who immediately froze. "Were you at the door all this time?"
Armando and Angel helped Sean bring Hank into the classroom, where he readjusted his thick glasses and blinked in bemusement.
"I wanted to see where you were all going." He held up a newspaper cutting, which Erik snatched from him.
"WAR HERO VISITS DEPT OF GAMES," Erik read from the headline and held it out to show everyone else. Underneath was a picture of Shaw, standing in the Ministry foyer and smiling, a small, pretty blonde girl beside him. "How did you find out about Shaw?"
"Moira and Charles always seemed to be doing a lot of research and I thought they might know what's going to be on the end-of-term tests."
Moira glared at him. "So you used the library catalogue to find out what we'd been reading, did you?"
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to spy! I really did think it was to do with our studies, but then it wasn't, and I kept reading."
"And listening at doors," Erik spat, and Charles thought for a moment that he was going to kick Hank.
Sean shrugged. "He was crouching there and he tried to run when he saw me, so I thought I'd better grab him."
"But I can help you!" Hank pleaded. "I found a research paper that Shaw wrote, before the war."
Erik loomed over him. "You know an awful lot about Shaw, don't you?"
"Only because I did my research, if there's something else you're insinuating! He's some kind of Nazi – he uses research as a cover for torturing and killing people. I would never, ever work with someone like that." Hank had stood up to his full height – taller than Erik – bristling and indignant at the accusation.
"He's telling the truth," Charles told them, calmly. "Whatever he read about Shaw, he finds it revolting."
"Yes, it is." Hank's voice was quieter now. "He gathered accounts of children who produced accidental magic when they were scared, in danger or hurt, and theorised that this could be used to produce more powerful wizards."
"By hurting children?" Moira asked. "That's what you mean, isn't it."
"Yes, that's what it was about. He was testing whether early, powerful production of magic made stronger wizards." Hank had turned away from Erik slightly, explaining to his fellow Ravenclaws, and was totally taken by surprise when Erik punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.
"Don't spy on us. Got it?"
Hank touched his jaw, looking as if he was about to cry, and nodded. Charles and Armando hurried to his side and helped him up.
Erik watched from a few steps away. "Fine. Then you can stay. You found things we didn't. Thanks."
Moira glared at Erik, but didn't say anything, and, after a few moments of quiet, Armando said, "Maybe some lunch now? We've got plenty."
"Cream bun, please!" Sean called out, and Angel giggled, the tension suddenly broken.
They put out all the food on a picnic blanket, sitting on cushions and folded blankets themselves, and Charles, Erik and Armando got the newcomers caught up on what they were doing and why. Moira was quiet, and Charles saw that she was watching Erik, a pensive expression on her face.
"Are you all right?" he asked her when the others had returned to duelling, and Moira and Charles were tasked with finding more useful jinxes in the Great Duels book.
"Just thinking: what are we going to do with Shaw if he does try something? I mean, it could be our word against his, or even Raven's word against his. He's an adult. An adult who uses Memory Charms."
"Dumbledore will believe us," Charles said, confident in that. "All we'll have to do is get the word to Dumbledore."
Moira nodded, but she didn't seem particularly comforted.
---
"I don't want to hide when Shaw is here," Erik told Dumbledore. He'd been called to Dumbledore's office to, as he'd expected, break the news that Shaw was on his way to the school.
"My dear Erik, if he sees you he will close his mind up tight."
"Disguise me, then. I can't be sitting up in the dorm waiting for him to be gone. It sounds like a prison."
Dumbledore stroked at his beard thoughtfully. Erik had a sudden urge to lean over the desk and pull the long gingery silver beard, but that would be ridiculous.
Dumbledore grinned at him, as if he knew exactly what Erik was thinking, and stood up. He led Erik over to a large bowl on a stone stand; Fawkes the baby phoenix watched them from his perch and groomed his beautiful, if still slightly fluffy, feathers.
"This is a pensieve: a rare magical device that allows one to view thoughts."
"Whose thoughts?"
"Your own, or those of another. It was created to help review complex memories and decisions, but it has also been used in criminal trials when Veritaserum is unreliable."
Erik frowned. "Can anyone view anyone's memories?" He had an image of Dumbledore calmly peering into the top of Erik's opened skull.
"Oh no, no, absolutely not. It's not a mind-reading device. You must extract the memories from your mind and put them in the Pensieve. They're not often used in courts because you see primarily the perspective of the person whose memories they are: in most cases, people commit crimes in hot blood, and living those memories can make the Wizengamot – the Council of Wizards – more sympathetic."
"Not Shaw's memories, though. He's never done anything in hot blood," Erik muttered.
"Precisely. I am going to ask you to attend my office the day after tomorrow, in the evening, so that when I have encouraged Shaw to share his memories, you can influence him towards memories more useful to us."
Erik walked all around the metal bowl on the stone pedestal. It seemed quite ordinary except for the grey mist curling around the inside. "Won't Shaw be ready for that?"
"Shaw, like most Wizards, has never used a Pensieve. He thinks that what he remembers he controls, and he is sadly mistaken."
Erik nodded. In the years of hiding before they were finally captured, he remembered going over old memories again and again, re-telling them to himself like stories. He knew how those memories worked, knew how each one started and ended, and it was a small amount of control in his life. He could remember standing in a train, pushed against his father, ignoring the dreadful stench with the memory of the gingerbread his sister would bring home from the store where she worked. When his mother died, her death crept into every memory of his past and he refused to think of that time anymore. These days he could barely remember anything before the camps, to be honest, not with the shadow of Schmidt, Shaw, looming over everything. Maybe the memory charms had affected him, only not in the way they were meant to.
Dumbledore was right, though: Shaw would have no reason to hide his memories. He was confident of his power and control, and no matter how cautiously he acted, he was not a cautious thinker. He was an arrogant man who thought he knew everything and Erik knew that was a lie.
Erik looked Dumbledore in the eye. "I can hide for two days. I can do that. I want my friends to remember who I am, though. And Armando and Alex can bring me food, they're in my dorm."
"Good boy. I'll send for you when I need you. I'll tweak the spell a little so that your friends remember who you are." He put his hand on Erik's shoulder and propelled him towards the door. "Remember, after lunch tomorrow, go to your dorm and stay there."
"Yes, sir." Erik let himself be hustled out the door to where Moira and Charles were waiting. He was glad that he hadn't said anything immediately upon exiting the office, because Professor Merrythought was with them.
"Yes, I agree," she was saying to Charles. "It's very difficult to say that one wizard is Dark and another isn't, except in very obvious cases. I think of it more as a slippery slope: the more you subvert or hurt other people with magic, the easier it is to keep doing that, and you rush faster and faster towards the Dark."
"You don't think there's particular Dark spells?" Moira asked.
"Apart from the Unforgiveable Curses, there's not many – there's plenty that can be used that way, I suppose." She shook her head. "Hello, Erik. If Dumbledore's finished with you, I'll be going in. Good night."
"Good night, Professor," the three students chorused, then hurried off down the hall, away from the office.
"Shaw's going to be here tomorrow around lunchtime. Dumbledore was really serious about me staying out of sight, so I agreed I would, if Armando and Alex can bring up food and so on. I don't want to be out of touch if the Prefects get territorial about who can be in the dorms again." They'd been having their meetings in the Astronomy Tower because the Prewett cousins who were the Gryffindor prefects had objected to them so frequently having friends from other houses in the Common Room. The Ravenclaw prefects had banned them outright – Charles had said that was because of the noise, not because of them being from other houses – and Hufflepuff and Slytherin didn't let students from other houses into their common rooms at all.
"I'd rather have you there helping us keep an eye on Raven," Charles said, "But I suppose Dumbledore's right. It's a big risk trying to hide you in plain sight."
Moira grumbled, "I said so all along! Besides, now we've got Sean – he's in Hufflepuff and he's with Raven most of the day."
Charles put a hand on Erik's forearm, right above the tattoo, though Charles didn't know that. "Will we forget about you when Dumbledore casts the spell? I mean, I don't want to think of you sitting up there waiting for news while we can't bring it to you."
"He said you wouldn't forget."
"What if we write everything down, and make sure to keep it hidden?" Moira considered.
Charles' hand was still on Erik's arm. "I think the risk is too great," he argued. "What if we really don't know what's going on and one of us starts reading your note in class?"
"Hmmph, you're right. We'll have to rely on Dumbledore, then."
Erik shrugged. "He's never been anything but reliable so far. He didn't have to tell us about Shaw or this plan – he could have simply locked me in the dorm and said I was sick."
They'd reached the bottom of the Ravenclaw Tower stairs now, and had to split up.
"See you tomorrow," Erik said, pulling his arm away from Charles, then awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.
"Good night!" Charles and Moira went up the stairs and Erik was left behind.
He turned to go to his own dormitory, walking along the hall to the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Password!"
"Butterbeer," Erik replied, and the painting swung open to let him into the dorm. Armando immediately came over to see what he'd learned from Dumbledore, but he brushed him aside and went over to Gabrielle Haller instead, who was reading in a corner by herself, curled up in a big armchair.
Erik kept his voice low. "Gabrielle. Tomorrow there's a guest coming to Hogwarts, and he worked in my camp."
Gabrielle didn't look up from her book, but her fingers were holding it so tightly that her nails went white. "Is he after you?"
"Dumbledore will stop him. But until then, stay out of his way. He doesn't hate Jews, he just, he uses whoever he can. He likes children." Erik cursed himself for stumbling. He'd planned what to say, but Gabrielle's presence always tripped him up.
"Thanks," she said, quietly, closing her book. "I'll be careful."
Erik went back to his friends, and Gabrielle headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, her stance alert and nervous. Erik knew how she felt: it was going to be hard to hide out when every nerve was calling him to do something, anything. He wasn't naturally patient, but he'd learned how to be, and that's what he would have to do.
On to Chapter 6
Erik woke up early the next morning, in time to see Karl Lykos creeping into the dorm in his dressing gown, and was surprised to realise that the dread of last night had mostly evaporated. He waved at Karl, who startled then waved back and went off to the bathroom. It was a very strange feeling to have allies, to be in a situation where it wasn't everyone for themselves, to be able to feel protective towards someone, to choose to share the danger. He showered and combed his hair, then went to get dressed. He hadn't been fond of the idea of wearing a uniform again, but the clothes were comfortable and warm and the right size, and the different colours were badges of honour, not shame. Besides, no matter where he went to school the odds were that he'd have to wear some kind of uniform so this was pretty good, considering.
This morning, all the First Years had the same class – Defence Against the Dark Arts – and Erik had, taking the example of the Ravenclaws, had read some of the textbook in advance. The book had been written by the previous Professor Merrythought, and edited by her daughter, the current Professor Merrythought.. It seemed to be a mix between the history of particular Dark wizards and witches and their aggressions, and practical spellwork. Erik had already been practising the most basic of the spells, Finito Incantem which would end spells currently in use. He was determined to cast Finito Incantem on himself at least once a day, just in case. So far he hadn't noticed any changes.
Armando wandered over and sat down on Erik's bed. "Morning."
"Good morning. What do you want?"
Armando's eyebrows flew up. "Wow, I see you're not a morning person. You seemed really upset all yesterday, so I was going to ask if you felt better now."
"Yes, I'm fine." Erik thought for a moment. "Actually, can I ask you a question?"
"Any time!"
"Your dad was on a merchant vessel during the war – did they ever get attacked by Grindelwald's people?"
"Yeah, actually they did. Why do you want to hear about it?"
Erik lowered his voice. "Grindelwald stopped other wizards helping Jews or Gypsies. I'm trying to work out why."
"My mum was always a bit dubious about Grindelwald. She used to say that first he'd be all about wizard supremacy then who knows where it would stop! He was awfully cosy with all those Nazi bastards, that's for sure, and they'd have killed me soon as looked at me. Anyway, my dad's ship was in a convoy from the US and they encountered some weird conditions off Ireland. My dad's a pretty good weather wizard, if nothing else, so he'd get it settled down, then the waves would whip up again, but there wasn't much wind."
"So it was magic. Why?"
Armando shook his head. "It was a Muggle convoy, but there were often a few wizards riding along, helping the war effort, you know? Mostly Muggle-borns, though my dad isn't. He just happened to be working there. So anyway, these wizards come swooping down on broomsticks and kill one of the wizards on the convoy stone dead, and everyone's running around thinking they're getting strafed by Germans. They set two ships on fire, so everyone's trying to put that out or abandon ship and it's a big mess. So my dad thinks, right then, and he whistles up a nice choppy wind to knock them off their broomsticks, and one of them lands right on the deck and breaks his neck."
Erik nodded, fascinated. "Your dad sounds powerful."
"No, not at all! He's spent a lot of time at sea, though, and my mum had protection work all over his ship. So my dad and the two surviving wizards pick up the dead guy and his broomstick to hide it, and he all dissolves into sulphur and makes that Grindelwald triangle symbol on the deck. How stupid is that? The water's still choppy, so it washes away in no time and then my dad had to hide the broomstick all the way to the docks. Anyway, he got home and told us about it, and he reckoned that Grindelwald doesn't care what Muggles do, and he doesn't care what wizards do, as long as they're separate. He'd hang around wherever the Muggle war was worst and watch for wizards trying to help, so he'd see who'd oppose him and he could kill 'em."
"So the wizards trying to help Jews was irrelevant – it was more that Grindelwald would go wherever really bad things were happening to Muggles and wait for wizards who considered Muggles important to show up."
"Yeah, pretty much. He was supposed to be hanging around a lot of the big battles, too. Like a great big crow."
Erik didn't say anything, but Armando laughed, and he realised that it had been a joke. Erik had been thinking of Warsaw, and the crow he'd caught which they'd then cooked and eaten for dinner, and how much he wanted stab Shaw as he'd stabbed the crow. Erik tried to laugh too, copying Armando, but he couldn't keep that going for long.
"Thanks," Erik said. "No-one wants to talk about Grindelwald. You'd think it was a hundred years ago, not last year."
"Maybe that's why they won't talk about it: they're glad it's over?"
"But it's not over. They only wish it was."
"Don't you?" Armando's voice was tentative.
"Wishing for things doesn't make them happen."
Erik didn't say anything more, but got dressed, grabbed his books and went out into the common room. He agreed with Armando's mother: first the authorities tried to separate different kinds of people, then they started killing them. He wouldn't be one of those people anymore. He had to harness the power he had while he could.
There were only a few people in the common room this early: several Quidditch hopefuls throwing a tiny shuttlecock around, the few coffee drinkers making their choice of beverage - there was only tea or hot milk downstairs - and Alex Summers sitting at a desk trying to write a letter.
Erik took a secluded seat in a nook of brickwork and continued reading Hogwarts: A History. He could hear the two older girls who were throwing the shuttlecock talking, and tried to ignore them, but the conversation wormed its way into his head anyway.
"So, that First Year, Summers, I hear that in America he was in jail."
"Really? But he's so little and cute! But surly, I suppose."
"Yeah, well, apparently he killed someone when his magic kicked in so they threw him in jail."
"So what's he doing here? Shouldn't he be at an American school? I mean, that Xavier boy and his sister and brother, at least they have ties to England."
"I heard Summers was too dangerous. If his accidental magic is strong enough to kill someone, imagine what would happen if he really tried to hurt you! Oh, watch out!" The speaker grabbed the shuttlecock, and hurled it across the room.
"So, do you think you'll make Seeker this year?"
They went on to talk about Quidditch, and Erik wrenched his attention away. Charles had said that he'd come over from America with several other students: Alex Summers must be one of them. Maybe Charles would know more. It could be very handy to have a deadly out-of-control wizard at hand if they had to confront Shaw.
He turned his attention to his book, and started reading about the Founders. It seemed that Grindelwald was far from the first wizard to have the idea about purity of bloodline: even Salazar Slytherin was supposed to have had the same line of thought. Erik dug a fingernail into the book, gouging Slytherin's name out of the page. They were idiots: magic obviously wasn't about bloodlines. It was about power.
He didn't see Charles at breakfast, but afterwards, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, he slipped into a seat beside Charles, Moira on his other side. Raven waved to him from the far side of the classroom where she was sitting with a group of Hufflepuff and Slytherin girls.
"Raven doesn't want to sit with you?" he asked Charles.
"I'm her brother – of course she doesn't." Charles didn't seem bothered by this, instead passing Erik a list of names. "I copied this from Moira's list – it's the supposed followers of Grindelwald who are not in prison or dead."
"Thanks."
Moira leaned over Charles. "Now we know which names to be alert for. Be careful with the Mitfords – the ones on that list were with Grindelwald but their sisters fought against him."
The name wasn't familiar to Erik, so he shrugged. "Armando said some of Grindelwald's men attacked his dad's ship during the war, targeting the wizards who were working with Muggles. One of the attackers died and his body turned into Grindelwald's symbol."
Moira brightened. "There's reports of that elsewhere, too – we grabbed some toast and spent time in the library this morning. We would have had more time if Charles wasn't such a wretched slug-a-bed."
Charles looked indignant, but before he could reply, a small, plump woman with soft grey curls swept into the room. Erik immediately sat up straight in his seat. Not all of his classmates could see it, by the way they continued to chat and move about, but she had the bearing of a combat veteran, scanning the room with a cool, calculating eye and moving swiftly to find a safe position in the room.
"Good morning," she said, in a low voice that cut through the classroom. As she turned, surveying the students, Erik could see that one hand was encased in a heavy leather glove and moved awkwardly. "I am Professor Merrythought. Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Put your books away – from next week, I expect you to have read the relevant chapter before class. Skip straight to Chapter Two – Chapter One is a load of rubbish."
Several of the students giggled at this. Erik didn't, though he did agree with the Professor, as that chapter was all about not using magic on fellow students and pledging to only use the spells included in the textbook in a dangerous situation.
"Right. Ravenclaws, put your pens away, too. This is a practical lesson." There was a brief shuffle as they did so.
"Come to the front of the room, all of you, then wands out!" She waved her wand and a row of paper targets appeared at the front of the room, right above her head. Each one had a student's name on it, alphabetically by surname. "Line up in front of your target!"
Erik was between Moira and Karl, and took his wand out, pleased to be doing something.
"The jinx I'm teaching you is a very basic one, but has many applications. One name for it is the Knockback Jinx." Another target popped up in the centre of the room and Professor Merrythought jabbed her wand forward with a slight upward motion. "Flipendo!"
A soft blue light flashed and the paper target shredded into pieces.
"Will it hurt someone if we cast it on them?" It was Amahl Farouk from Slytherin, and he seemed rather interested in the prospect.
Professor Merrythought's laugh was a short bark. "No, it's not powerful enough, even when I'm casting it. This is Defence Against the Dark Arts, Mr Farouk, and we concentrate here on two things: defensive spells and knowing your enemy." Gazing around at the students, she said, "Mr Marko – you're a big strong lad. May I borrow you for a moment, to demonstrate?"
"Sure," Cain said and plodded over to her. In a moment, her wand was pointed at his chest, jabbed forward, and with the word Flipendo, Cain was knocked back a step.
"Did that hurt, Mr Marko?"
"Uh, no." Cain sounded more surprised than anything, but the fingers of Erik's left hand were so tense around his wand that it took a touch from Moira to uncurl them. His knuckles ached.
Professor Merrythought had sent Cain over to his place in line and was standing behind the row of students. "Wands up, please! Cast your spell when you're ready."
Erik immediately brought his wand up, trying to work on instinct, and jabbed it forward. "Flipendo!"
There were flurries of shouts, the noise of ripping paper and the clatter of a toppling chair as everyone cast their Knockback Jinx, pieces of paper flying everywhere. When Fred Dukes had finally cast his jinx, Professor Merrythought held out her hand and all the paper targets flew to her in a neat stack.
"Some very good work here, students, and some of you missing the target completely. Mr Madrox, you took down my chair, I believe. Mr Summers, you've hit Miss Yoshida's target, which is quite a feat at that angle. Does anyone have an idea how to improve your aim? Mr Lehnsherr – you've hit your target dead centre."
Erik wasn't sure what to say, but Moira was going pink as if she was about to burst in her effort to give the answer, so he spoke quickly. "Focus?"
"Correct! Five points to Gryffindor for that excellent shot. You are all either experiencing or beginning adolescence now, which is not a very comfortable time in your body. Fortunately, magic is primarily focused by the mind. Mr Lehnsherr hit his target perfectly not because he's tall or strong, but because he focused his intent."
Tanya Trask's hand was up. "Professor, why do we use wand gestures, then?"
"Let me demonstrate." Professor Merrythought stuck a fresh target to the wall and drew her wand, pointing it at the floor. "Aresto Visio! Flipendo!"
The flash of pale blue was immensely slowed so everyone could watch its path across the room. It arced up from the professor's wand straight to the target, ripping a hole in the flimsy paper.
"As you see, you don't necessarily need to point the wand to hit your target, but pointing is very helpful for your focus. The movements we teach are those that wizards and witches of the past have studied and found the most useful for releasing or shaping magical energy. If you have enough focus and power, you don't need to speak; a very few wizards don't even need a wand for basic spells. I strongly recommend that beginning wizards learn the most appropriate gestures and the right word: if nothing else, it will be on the test."
Tanya Trask nodded eagerly. The Professor gestured and more paper targets floated into view.
"Now, I want to see at least three hits by each of you. Stay in line for safety, and cast your spell whenever you're ready."
Erik raised his wand. Professor Merrythought was right: it did help him focus his energy, and shape exactly what he was trying to do with it. Even casting such a minor spell, he felt more powerful than he had ripping steel tables apart and crushing helmets. This didn't tire him at all, and he could control the power with confidence and concentration. Those he was not lacking.
The classroom was a chaotic mess of paper and shouts and blue-tinged light for the next hour, as Professor Merrythought went from student to student assisting them with their technique and focus. Erik listened carefully as she encouraged Moira to focus on only one thing at a time, though her only words for him were to try to use smaller gestures to see how well that worked. By the end of the class, some of the students were exhausted – particularly Alex Summers, making Erik doubt his dangerous reputation – but others seemed full of energy.
He walked on to lunch with Charles and Moira, both of whom seemed exhilarated by the lesson.
"You were great, Erik!" Charles was grinning widely. "You hit the target every time!"
"You kept changing your mind and thinking about other things, I saw you," Erik replied, but Charles only laughed.
Moira pulled them close together before they reached the Great Hall. "Listen, I might have learned something else. I was reading about that ghost, Myrtle, who lives in the girls' toilets…"
"There's a ghost in the toilets?" Erik was incredulous. "Is it dangerous?"
"Not really, she's just a Ravenclaw student. All she did was splash water and fly around. Anyway, she only died a few years ago. And guess what? That year there were four other students who were attacked, all Muggle-born. The rest survived, though."
"Do you think Grindelwald had an agent inside the school?" Charles gasped.
Moira made a dubious face. "Even if he did, they might not still be here."
"We have to find out. If someone's going to help Shaw get hold of Raven and we don't know who they are, that's a major problem."
Charles frowned and patted Erik's arm. "Not to mention, Dumbledore hasn't cast that charm yet, so they can report to Shaw that you're here."
Moira nodded vigorously.
Erik listened to them, but he had nothing to say. The confidence and strength he'd felt a mere ten minutes ago seemed very distant now; everyone was too close to him and too loud and all pouring forward in the same direction like they were being driven. He quickly ducked down a side corridor and Moira and Charles detoured with him.
"Are you all right?" Charles asked, with concern rather than pity.
"Sit down, put your head between your knees," Moira snapped, forcing Erik to sit down on a bench. "You need to get blood flow back to your head."
Erik did as she said, although he didn't feel any better bent forward, unable to see what was going on.
Charles and Moira sat either side of him.
"You know," Charles said after a moment, "There's lots of people we can eliminate, even if we're assuming Grindelwald's contact is still here, and that he or she is in touch with Shaw."
Erik could feel Moira nodding, as she rubbed a circle on his back. "Yes, that's true. It was three years ago, so anyone in Third Year or lower now couldn't be involved. They wouldn't have been here."
"What about Professors? Professor Merrythought didn't teach here then – her mother did. And Professor Shomron from Astronomy, he wasn't here either."
"It wouldn't be him," Erik managed to say. "It won't be anyone Jewish. Or Chinese, or Black. Grindelwald's people worked with the Nazis."
Charles crouched down beside Erik. "You're looking a bit better. Good. Hey, Moira, maybe you could ask the ghost what happened? Even if she doesn't know who killed her, she might remember something that helps us."
"The details aren't in Hogwarts: A History and that's supposed to update automatically," Moira agreed. "Do you mind if I take Raven with me? She seemed to like Raven and I, uh, I yelled at Myrtle. A lot."
"As long as you don't have to say anything about our plans and Shaw, you should be fine?" Charles sounded uncertain.
Erik shook his head, his nausea receding. "Charles, it's Moira. You're the one who has trouble keeping his mouth shut, not her!"
Charles laughed, and together with Moira, helped Erik up. He didn't really need it, although he still felt a bit shaky and dreadfully hungry, but he let them anyway.
Moira dusted off her skirt where it had got dusty on the bench. "Right, let's go and get some food into you."
Erik glanced at each of them, but neither of them seemed angry or disgusted, only concerned for him. This was Hogwarts, he reminded himself. There was plenty of everything, and he was not making them weak.
---
Moira finished off her bowl of soup, wiped the bowl clean with the remains of her bread roll and went over to the Hufflepuff table to find Raven. She was glad that Charles and Erik hadn't insisted on coming along: it would be very strange to take them to a girls' toilet. She was rather glad that Raven would be with her, though. She wasn't scared of the ghost, really, she was uncomfortable making someone who had died horribly talk about her death. Also, she would rather not be splashed with toilet water again. Myrtle the ghost had at least been interested in talking to Raven – why else would she have followed her from toilet to toilet wailing her name? – so Moira would have to use that to their advantage.
"Raven! Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Raven chewed and swallowed her mouthful of sandwich and turned around on her bench. "Sure!"
Moira glared at Raven's friends, Mariko and Petra. "In private!"
Raven rolled her big yellow eyes at Moira. "Let me finish my lunch first! Is this to do with my brother? He's so boring!"
"No, it's not. I'll meet you outside the main doors."
Moira waited impatiently, but Raven must have been impatient with the secrecy, too, because she only took a minute or two to hurry out, brushing crumbs from her jumper. As soon as Moira started walking towards the corridor that led to the greenhouse, Raven worked out where they were going.
"We're going to see Myrtle the ghost! Why?"
"Because Myrtle was murdered, and I can't find information about it in the books. Don't you think that's strange?"
Raven kept walking alongside Moira, but shook her head. "It wasn't very long ago. Maybe it was only in newspapers?"
"No, my book magically updates itself. It has all the House Cup and Quidditch winners – surely it should include a murder!"
Raven changed into a considerably less transparent simulacrum of the ghost. "She's not much older than us. It's really sad."
"Don't do that, Raven, I don't want her to think you're teasing her."
"Oh! Good point!" Raven shifted to her blue self and gave Moira a sideways glance. "Do you think the person who killed her is the one who's a danger to me? Does Charles think that?"
"I think it's possible," Moira told her, cursing Raven's inquisitiveness. "We should find out what happened so we can rule it out."
They had arrived at the bathroom door, and Moira pushed it open with only slight hesitation.
"Myrtle, are you there? It's Moira and Raven, come to talk to you."
With a high-pitched wailing sound, Myrtle came flying out of one of the cubicles, zooming around near the ceiling. "Nobody cares about me!"
"Of course we do, Myrtle," Moira said firmly. "That's why we want to find out what happened to you."
"Yeah! To find out if they got punished!" Raven added.
Myrtle seemed to be pleased by this, because she stopped wailing and floated closer to them. "Really? You don't think it was my fault? Because that's just the kind of the thing that happens to Myrtle?"
"That's a terrible thing to say! Who'd say that?" Raven seemed oblivious to the fact that some of the older girls had said exactly that to her a few days ago.
"Olive Hornby, that's who! Ooh, she was sorry she teased me when I turned up at the Yule Ball and left slime all over her dress!"
Moira thought for a moment – there was a sixth year in her House name Olive, a tall sulky girl. She'd be the right age to have shared a dorm with Myrtle. "Oh, her. She always looks as if she's smelling something bad."
Myrtle giggled. "Well, I did put a dead fish in her bed once. Someone flushed their goldfish down the toilet and it came right down to me!"
She and Raven seemed to share a sense of humour because they both howled laughing at that.
Moira glanced at the watch she'd got for her last birthday. Lunchtime was nearly over. "But Olive Hornby didn't kill you, did she? I'd be pretty worried if they let the killer stay at the school!"
"Oooh, but they did!" Myrtle floated closer and both Moira and Raven shivered with the damp chill of her presence. "They said it was all an accident, but I don't call opening the Chamber of Secrets an accident! And releasing dangerous spiders!"
"You were killed by a spider?" Raven sounded terribly upset for her.
"I don't really remember that part, but that's what everyone said. A stupid Gryffindor boy had been hiding an acromantula in the school and it petrified four people and killed me. And then they made him assistant groundskeeper!" Myrtle wailed again and flew up to the ceiling. "And nobody even cares!" With a loud splash, she plummeted into a toilet and was gone.
Moira took Raven's hand and hurried out.
"It was Mr Hagrid?" Raven sounded enthralled. "We saw him when we got here on the train! They didn't tell us he was a murderer, even accidentally!"
Moira frowned. "It seems strange to keep him here if he's dangerous to people. Maybe it really was an accident and all he did was bring in the acromantula. Or it tricked him – they're supposed to be intelligent."
"But Mr Hagrid looked nice!"
"It doesn't mean he couldn't be tricked!" Moira gave Raven a little push off towards the Potions classroom – the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins had their second lesson of the week while the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws would be at Transfiguration. Actually, Moira was rather hoping that Mr Hagrid was a brutal murderer, because then they'd have to worry that intelligent spiders were working for Grindelwald, and that was the last thing they needed. Still, most creatures were entirely uninterested in human affairs: even when Grindelwald had sent various creatures into the cities to attempt to spread fear, they'd mostly been interested in having lots of people to eat. Moira's mother had been part of a group capturing an African Tebo on the loose in Glasgow – its tendency to turn invisible was as useful in the streets as in the jungle – and that creature certainly had no idea why it was there, only that it needed to kill and eat many people to survive the cold.
Hurrying off to join the students heading for the Transfiguration class, Moira hoped that Erik was feeling better. He was such a strange boy and she could never predict what he was going to do next. Still, she thought he was trustworthy, one of those people who will tell you nothing rather than lie. And he obviously thought the same of her, since he told her and Charles so much about his past.
She made it to class well on time and dropped into a seat next to Charles, who had taken her satchel to class for her. Erik was on his other side.
"Oof! Well, we talked to Myrtle. She says that Mr Hagrid, you've met him, the assistant groundskeeper, he brought an acromantula into the castle and it paralysed some students then killed Myrtle."
"That doesn't make any sense," Erik snapped. "Acromantulas are poisonous, but they leave great big bite marks. And they don't attack you for no reason, they attack you and eat you."
Charles looked more alarmed, rather than less. "You're saying it couldn't have been an acromantula because it would have eaten its victim? How big are these things?"
"The couple I stayed with in Ireland used to hunt magically-created beasts for a living, when they were younger. They said most acromantulas are about the size of a car, but they can get much bigger."
"What if it was a baby one?" Moira wasn't scared of spiders usually, but she was quite prepared to be cautious about anything likely to eat her.
"No poison – they don't develop it until they're mature. And usually they live in nests of thirty or more spiders."
"Don't say nests!" Charles shuddered. "Maybe we should talk to Mr Hagrid and ask him?"
"You don't think he'll attack us?" Erik asked, and Moira almost laughed before realising he was entirely serious.
"I don't think they would have let him stay if he liked to attack people," Moira had to whisper, as Dumbledore was entering the room and everyone was quietening down.
The lesson was more practice of integral transformation, this time separating ink from water. Erik technically succeeded by making the water vanish, leaving the ink behind in a cracked glass, much to his surprise. It was Karl Lykos who was most successful, carefully removing a small quantity of the ink over and over until it was all in the second glass. He nearly vanished under his seat when he was awarded House points, despite the encouragement of Armando and Suzanne.
After class, Moira poked Charles in the ribs. "You should go and talk to Mr Hagrid."
"Why me?" Charles whined.
"You and Erik. He's a Gryffindor so they should get along perfectly. And you can be there so he'll have to kill you both to get away with it."
"That's not comforting!"
Erik pulled him along by the arm. "Don't worry, Moira, I'll return him to the Ravenclaw dorm in one piece. Are you coming too?"
"No, I'm trying to get on the chess team and they've got a meeting this afternoon."
"But I want to be on the chess team!" Charles was definitely pouting now.
"Do you want me to be eaten by a giant spider?" Erik asked, pointedly.
"Well, no…and I'm pretty rusty with chess. No-one would play me."
"There you go." Moira dusted off her hands. "You can teach Erik when you get back."
"I can play, regular chess anyway," Erik protested.
"It's pretty much the same!" Charles was off and running on one of his long and drawn-out explanations, and Erik dragged him safely outside.
Moira smirked and ran off for the Ravenclaw common room. There were only two spots on the team for First Years, and one was going to be hers, even if it did mean Charles and Erik being horribly murdered and eaten by spiders. Well. Maybe she'd go to rescue them when the meeting was over.
---
Erik pulled Charles right through the castle and out the door that led to the greenhouse before he finished explaining the implications of the violent displays of the pieces in chess, when played wizard-style. Charles thought Erik would really enjoy the game, once he started playing.
"I don't see what it adds to the game," Erik muttered.
"Oh, not much to start with, but then the pieces develop their own personalities! It makes it more of a little battle than mathematics – pieces will betray each other and make alliances and it's a lot of fun. But you have to warm the board up, first. There's even famous sets used for tournaments!" Charles and his father had been planning to go to one in Antwerp, before the war started and made travel to the continent impossible.
"Where do you think Mr Hagrid is right now?" Erik asked, and Charles skidded to a verbal halt, realising that they were outside.
"Uh, I don't know? We could go and ask someone."
"No, definitely not." Erik was firm on this point. "We can't give ourselves away. One thing that I've noticed about wizards that's just the same everyone else: they don't trust anyone not the same as they are, not even people from other countries. And Mr Hagrid is what, ten feet tall?"
"Probably part-giant," Charles agreed. "Or even if it was a growth potion mix-up or a spell gone wrong or something, that's what people are going to say."
"Giants have babies with wizards?" Erik shook his head. "Never mind. Of course they do.. Anyway, what I mean is that if I was going to pin a crime on somebody at Hogwarts, I'd pick the person who was different. I don't know about the spiders, though."
Charles was starting to feel most alarmed by Erik's plan. "Are we going to walk up and ask him, hello sir, are you a murderer?"
"I don't think that's a very good way to get information from someone, do you? There, he's over near the pumpkin patch."
Indeed, Hagrid was shovelling a big pile of manure into careful rows along the pumpkin vines. Green pumpkins about the size of Erik's head were nestled into the twirls and loops of vine, and Hagrid was careful not to damage them with his shovel. In the distance, the Forbidden Forest loomed dark and tangled.
Erik wasted no time. He strode down the hill to the pumpkin patch, Charles scurrying behind him, and waved to Hagrid, who waved back. Charles wasn't sure what to do – he'd never spoken to a suspected murderer before – but he supposed Erik had probably been around a lot of murderers and would know what to do. Mr Hagrid wouldn't have a wand, but Charles wasn't silly enough to think that that was sufficient protection.
"Hello, lads!" Hagrid said, leaning on his shovel. "You're a bit early if you're after pumpkins!"
"I wanted to ask you a question, actually." Erik replied. "I'm Erik, this is Charles."
"Oh, right, right – you're the wee lad Dumbledore took over to Ireland."
Erik spluttered as if he was about to protest this description, but with Hagrid towering over him, it was too ridiculous to argue. "Yes. Listen, if you were responsible for that girl dying three years ago, why are you still working here?"
Hagrid turned bright red beneath his patchy beard. Charles took a step back, and even Erik looked alarmed.
Erik held his ground, though. "I don't think they'd have let you stay here if you really did kill someone, so what happened?"
Hagrid leaned in close. "I'm not saying you're right or wrong, mind, but you trust Dumbledore and he'll take care of you. He knows what goes on around here."
"Would he put students in danger?"
Laughing loudly, Hagrid slapped Erik on the shoulder, almost knocking him down. "Never! He's the one watching out for the students, more than anyone. That Headmaster Dippet doesn't see a ruddy thing that goes on around here. Who's the war hero? Dumbledore. No, lad, you stick with Dumbledore and you'll be fine."
Charles hadn't had much luck trying to understand wizards' minds, but Hagrid's sincerity was clear as day. He was one of those people who made no difference between his thoughts and his speech.
Charles spoke up. "What about the spiders?"
Hagrid shuffled one enormous foot. "Well, er, that might have been a bit of a mistake on my part, but I got hold of an acromantula egg, and the little fella hatched out, and, well, I couldn't leave him to starve!"
"No, of course not," Charles said, with a perfectly straight face.
"So when they needed a scapegoat, there I was. But, like I said, Dumbledore knew it wasn't me, so he sorted out a job and here I am."
"Thank you for clearing that up," Erik told him.
Charles hurried forward. "I'm really sorry that happened to you. Did they ever work out who was actually responsible?"
"Nope, no idea. All I know is that every last one of the kids was a Muggle-born." He surveyed both Erik and Charles, assessing them, and lowered his voice. "I told Dumbledore it might be one the creatures Grindelwald stole from their homes and scattered about, poor things. There's lots of beasts that are smart enough to follow instructions and can petrify their victims, so I'm hoping that as soon as Grindelwald went down, it scarpered off home."
"The petrifying stopped, then?" Erik watched him intently. Charles was more focused on Hagrid calling the beasts "poor things".
Hagrid nodded. "Not one problem since."
"Thank you." Erik stuck out a hand and Hagrid shook it. "If there were any more problems of that kind, could I ask you about them?"
"Course you can!" He shook hands with Charles as well, who was feeling much better now that he was sure Hagrid wasn't a murderer, and shooed them off towards the castle. "Off you go, then, I've got work to do."
Charles and Erik trudged up the grassy hill. Erik looked quite thoughtful.
"He's telling the truth – he wouldn't kill anyone, not even a horrible giant spider," Charles said.
"I agree. But it means that Grindelwald might have had agents in the school before, and Dumbledore never figured out who. Well, if he couldn't find them, there's no way we will."
"We might if they're a student!" Charles protested, but Erik cut him off.
"Maybe if we'd been here a few years, but we haven't. And most likely they were an older student, who would have now left, or a teacher anyway. You can trust children to spy on each other, but not with complicated undercover missions. Children worry about their parents and their home and having enough food, not politics." Erik sounded quite firm on the matter, so Charles thought he'd better not argue, even though he himself worried about politics quite a lot.
Moira walked down from the castle to meet them. "Well, I successfully made it onto the chess team, so I came to check that you weren't dead."
"Thanks for having such confidence in us," Erik told her, but Moira didn't seem troubled.
"You're welcome. Now, tell me what happened."
They all walked back to the castle, comparing information as they went, and Charles smiled. Even with the worry about the impending danger to Raven, he was truly happy to be here, with his friends, working together. Surely they could face anything that came their way?
---
By the time the pumpkins had ripened for Halloween, there were more students in their group. Erik had advised that they tell Armando, who knew more about the battles and tactics of the war than any of them and Armando had immediately agreed to help. He'd brought along Alex and Erik's constant, quiet interrogations revealed nothing more about the American boy than what they already knew. Alex's taciturn nature and stubbornness were a match for Erik's poking and prying.
The last two members of the group had been a surprise. Angel Salvadore had walked up to Erik and Charles one afternoon as they worked in the library.
"What's going on? I know it's something to do with Raven and you have to tell me what it is."
Charles had opened his mouth to deny everything, but Erik had leaned forward and stared her in the eye.
"Why do you care?" he snapped.
She didn't lower her gaze. "Raven's my friend. And because I know what kind of things people like to do to little girls because they can get away with it. And why aren't you telling her?"
Charles glanced from Erik to Angel, seeing some kind of conversation happening that he didn't understand, and Erik abruptly nodded.
"Okay. The only reason we haven't told Raven much about it is that she talks. If the information we have gets out, I might not be able to find out more."
"From Dumbledore? Okay, I get it. You're going to tell her if you find out the danger, aren't you?" It sounded more of a command than a question, and Charles wasn't surprised that Erik nodded.
Charles didn't know what had just happened, but if Erik was ready to trust Angel, Charles was happy to go along with it. He might have regretted that every time she was rude to him and Erik found it funny, though.
The last person in their group was a complete accident. They'd all been learning to fly on broomsticks – Charles and Moira weren't too bad at it, Erik was quite competent, Angel was fantastic – and the older students of each House were giving students extra practice on the weekends. The Hufflepuffs were the ones flying today, so Charles and his friends from the other houses had carried a vast amount of food up to an empty classroom most of the way up the Astronomy Tower. Erik and Moira insisted that they keep up spellcasting practice, even if they had admitted that there probably wasn't much they could do against an adult wizard.
Armando was explaining to Charles why they couldn't to go all the way to the top of the Tower – it was a notorious make-out spot for older students – when Moira and Angel yelled,
"Look out!"
Sean Cassidy came flying through the open window on his broom, performed an amazing half-twist to miss hitting Alex, and crashed in a heap on the floor, right on top of their list of Grindelwald associates and their abilities. Everyone held their breath for a moment, then Sean rolled to his feet and grinned.
"Ta-da! Hey, what are you doing here? And why does that paper say Grindelwald?"
Charles desperately hushed him, but the others had already heard.
Erik strode over, his face blank and cold, and grabbed Sean's arm so hard that Sean's face crumpled up as if he was about to cry.
"If you tell anyone about this, I will murder you and bury you where you won't be found, do you understand?"
"Y-yes!" Sean whimpered, his freckles standing out like marks on a map.
"Good." Erik shoved him towards the window, and Sean cast around desperately.
"Stop it, Erik." Charles got between them and the window, and Armando got hold of Sean's other arm.
"Come on, man, let him go," Armando didn't seem to be having any impact on Erik's icy fury.
Charles put his hand on Erik's where his fingers were bruising Sean's pale arm and started to pull his fingers off. "Let go. Sean isn't going to tell anyone. Threatening him is no way to conduct ourselves."
"He knows what will happen if he talks." Erik was letting Charles move his hand, though.
"Sean, once the flying lesson is over, why don't you come up here and have something to eat?" Charles was fairly sure that Erik wouldn't kill someone over lunch. "We can explain what's going on, and with flying skills like that, maybe you can help?"
"Or take my head off next time," Alex grouched.
Sean looked around, still shaken, but then he spotted their stash of food. "Sure, save me one of those cream buns and I'm in!"
Moira handed him his broom, with a hard glare at Erik, and Sean climbed out the window again. "See you soon!"
He flew back down to his group, and Charles realised he was still holding Erik's hand. Erik had been gripping Sean's arm and now Charles' hand so hard that all the blood had gone out of his fingers. He was staring down as if he didn't understand what to do next, so Charles led him away from the window to where they'd laid out their feast.
"Have something to eat, then we should practice more," Charles said, putting his other hand over Erik's to try to release his death-grip.
"Okay. Do you really think we can trust him?"
"I told you before, I can feel things about people sometimes. Sean is very honest – if he says he won't tell, he won't."
Erik seemed to find that acceptable and sat down to pour them both some lemonade. Charles turned around to find everyone else watching Erik carefully, as if he was about to grab them in the same way; Angel was close to the door, and the only one who had her hand on her wand.
Charles took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Come on, we'd better get some practice in if we want to look good in front of Sean. Moira, are you still after revenge for me beating you at chess?"
"That game isn't over yet!" Moira said indignantly, and drew her wand. "Let's go!"
The tension broke and everyone except Angel – who did take her hand off her wand, at least – relaxed and moved aside so they could watch the duel safely. It had been Armando who had suggested this as a way of practising for real danger, bringing an excellent book called "Great Duels of the Last Century, and Spells to Win Your Own." Most of the spells were far too complex, but a few of the jinxes had become favourites.
"Claudisi!" Moira yelled, making Charles stumble, but the weeks of practice meant that he managed to cast his spell anyway.
"Flipendo!" Unfortunately, Moira's stumbling jinx had worked well enough for Charles to completely miss her and bump Armando instead.
Moira closed in, "Expelliarmus!"
Charles dove to one side and her spell missed him entirely, but Moira was fast.
"Expelliarmus!" she tried again, and Charles' wand leapt from his hand to clatter on the floor.
Everyone clapped, and Alex yelled, "That's Moira 7, Charles 4!"
Charles laughed and they shook hands, and Angel stepped up to take on Moira next. They had to be a little more careful if Angel, Alex or Erik were the ones duelling – those three had a tendency to stop using spells and attack with fists and feet if they got riled up. Armando had once had to go to the infirmary when Alex struck him on the elbow with his wand and made his arm numb. Erik claimed that it was a good thing that they'd fight with anything to hand, but Charles had pointed out that while this might be true most of the time, it certainly wasn't true if they happened to be fighting a powerful wizard who would throw them across the room before they ever got close.
Just as Angel cast an Itching Hex on Moira, catching Alex at the edge of it, there was a commotion outside the classroom door. Erik, Armando and Angel were there in a moment, throwing the door open to see what was going on. On the stairs was Sean Cassidy, trying to wrestle the much taller Hank McCoy towards the door, while Hank was all over Sean trying to pry his way free.
"He was listening at the door!" Sean called out. "I came up to get my cream bun and saw him here!"
"What are you doing?" Erik yelled at Hank, who immediately froze. "Were you at the door all this time?"
Armando and Angel helped Sean bring Hank into the classroom, where he readjusted his thick glasses and blinked in bemusement.
"I wanted to see where you were all going." He held up a newspaper cutting, which Erik snatched from him.
"WAR HERO VISITS DEPT OF GAMES," Erik read from the headline and held it out to show everyone else. Underneath was a picture of Shaw, standing in the Ministry foyer and smiling, a small, pretty blonde girl beside him. "How did you find out about Shaw?"
"Moira and Charles always seemed to be doing a lot of research and I thought they might know what's going to be on the end-of-term tests."
Moira glared at him. "So you used the library catalogue to find out what we'd been reading, did you?"
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to spy! I really did think it was to do with our studies, but then it wasn't, and I kept reading."
"And listening at doors," Erik spat, and Charles thought for a moment that he was going to kick Hank.
Sean shrugged. "He was crouching there and he tried to run when he saw me, so I thought I'd better grab him."
"But I can help you!" Hank pleaded. "I found a research paper that Shaw wrote, before the war."
Erik loomed over him. "You know an awful lot about Shaw, don't you?"
"Only because I did my research, if there's something else you're insinuating! He's some kind of Nazi – he uses research as a cover for torturing and killing people. I would never, ever work with someone like that." Hank had stood up to his full height – taller than Erik – bristling and indignant at the accusation.
"He's telling the truth," Charles told them, calmly. "Whatever he read about Shaw, he finds it revolting."
"Yes, it is." Hank's voice was quieter now. "He gathered accounts of children who produced accidental magic when they were scared, in danger or hurt, and theorised that this could be used to produce more powerful wizards."
"By hurting children?" Moira asked. "That's what you mean, isn't it."
"Yes, that's what it was about. He was testing whether early, powerful production of magic made stronger wizards." Hank had turned away from Erik slightly, explaining to his fellow Ravenclaws, and was totally taken by surprise when Erik punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.
"Don't spy on us. Got it?"
Hank touched his jaw, looking as if he was about to cry, and nodded. Charles and Armando hurried to his side and helped him up.
Erik watched from a few steps away. "Fine. Then you can stay. You found things we didn't. Thanks."
Moira glared at Erik, but didn't say anything, and, after a few moments of quiet, Armando said, "Maybe some lunch now? We've got plenty."
"Cream bun, please!" Sean called out, and Angel giggled, the tension suddenly broken.
They put out all the food on a picnic blanket, sitting on cushions and folded blankets themselves, and Charles, Erik and Armando got the newcomers caught up on what they were doing and why. Moira was quiet, and Charles saw that she was watching Erik, a pensive expression on her face.
"Are you all right?" he asked her when the others had returned to duelling, and Moira and Charles were tasked with finding more useful jinxes in the Great Duels book.
"Just thinking: what are we going to do with Shaw if he does try something? I mean, it could be our word against his, or even Raven's word against his. He's an adult. An adult who uses Memory Charms."
"Dumbledore will believe us," Charles said, confident in that. "All we'll have to do is get the word to Dumbledore."
Moira nodded, but she didn't seem particularly comforted.
---
"I don't want to hide when Shaw is here," Erik told Dumbledore. He'd been called to Dumbledore's office to, as he'd expected, break the news that Shaw was on his way to the school.
"My dear Erik, if he sees you he will close his mind up tight."
"Disguise me, then. I can't be sitting up in the dorm waiting for him to be gone. It sounds like a prison."
Dumbledore stroked at his beard thoughtfully. Erik had a sudden urge to lean over the desk and pull the long gingery silver beard, but that would be ridiculous.
Dumbledore grinned at him, as if he knew exactly what Erik was thinking, and stood up. He led Erik over to a large bowl on a stone stand; Fawkes the baby phoenix watched them from his perch and groomed his beautiful, if still slightly fluffy, feathers.
"This is a pensieve: a rare magical device that allows one to view thoughts."
"Whose thoughts?"
"Your own, or those of another. It was created to help review complex memories and decisions, but it has also been used in criminal trials when Veritaserum is unreliable."
Erik frowned. "Can anyone view anyone's memories?" He had an image of Dumbledore calmly peering into the top of Erik's opened skull.
"Oh no, no, absolutely not. It's not a mind-reading device. You must extract the memories from your mind and put them in the Pensieve. They're not often used in courts because you see primarily the perspective of the person whose memories they are: in most cases, people commit crimes in hot blood, and living those memories can make the Wizengamot – the Council of Wizards – more sympathetic."
"Not Shaw's memories, though. He's never done anything in hot blood," Erik muttered.
"Precisely. I am going to ask you to attend my office the day after tomorrow, in the evening, so that when I have encouraged Shaw to share his memories, you can influence him towards memories more useful to us."
Erik walked all around the metal bowl on the stone pedestal. It seemed quite ordinary except for the grey mist curling around the inside. "Won't Shaw be ready for that?"
"Shaw, like most Wizards, has never used a Pensieve. He thinks that what he remembers he controls, and he is sadly mistaken."
Erik nodded. In the years of hiding before they were finally captured, he remembered going over old memories again and again, re-telling them to himself like stories. He knew how those memories worked, knew how each one started and ended, and it was a small amount of control in his life. He could remember standing in a train, pushed against his father, ignoring the dreadful stench with the memory of the gingerbread his sister would bring home from the store where she worked. When his mother died, her death crept into every memory of his past and he refused to think of that time anymore. These days he could barely remember anything before the camps, to be honest, not with the shadow of Schmidt, Shaw, looming over everything. Maybe the memory charms had affected him, only not in the way they were meant to.
Dumbledore was right, though: Shaw would have no reason to hide his memories. He was confident of his power and control, and no matter how cautiously he acted, he was not a cautious thinker. He was an arrogant man who thought he knew everything and Erik knew that was a lie.
Erik looked Dumbledore in the eye. "I can hide for two days. I can do that. I want my friends to remember who I am, though. And Armando and Alex can bring me food, they're in my dorm."
"Good boy. I'll send for you when I need you. I'll tweak the spell a little so that your friends remember who you are." He put his hand on Erik's shoulder and propelled him towards the door. "Remember, after lunch tomorrow, go to your dorm and stay there."
"Yes, sir." Erik let himself be hustled out the door to where Moira and Charles were waiting. He was glad that he hadn't said anything immediately upon exiting the office, because Professor Merrythought was with them.
"Yes, I agree," she was saying to Charles. "It's very difficult to say that one wizard is Dark and another isn't, except in very obvious cases. I think of it more as a slippery slope: the more you subvert or hurt other people with magic, the easier it is to keep doing that, and you rush faster and faster towards the Dark."
"You don't think there's particular Dark spells?" Moira asked.
"Apart from the Unforgiveable Curses, there's not many – there's plenty that can be used that way, I suppose." She shook her head. "Hello, Erik. If Dumbledore's finished with you, I'll be going in. Good night."
"Good night, Professor," the three students chorused, then hurried off down the hall, away from the office.
"Shaw's going to be here tomorrow around lunchtime. Dumbledore was really serious about me staying out of sight, so I agreed I would, if Armando and Alex can bring up food and so on. I don't want to be out of touch if the Prefects get territorial about who can be in the dorms again." They'd been having their meetings in the Astronomy Tower because the Prewett cousins who were the Gryffindor prefects had objected to them so frequently having friends from other houses in the Common Room. The Ravenclaw prefects had banned them outright – Charles had said that was because of the noise, not because of them being from other houses – and Hufflepuff and Slytherin didn't let students from other houses into their common rooms at all.
"I'd rather have you there helping us keep an eye on Raven," Charles said, "But I suppose Dumbledore's right. It's a big risk trying to hide you in plain sight."
Moira grumbled, "I said so all along! Besides, now we've got Sean – he's in Hufflepuff and he's with Raven most of the day."
Charles put a hand on Erik's forearm, right above the tattoo, though Charles didn't know that. "Will we forget about you when Dumbledore casts the spell? I mean, I don't want to think of you sitting up there waiting for news while we can't bring it to you."
"He said you wouldn't forget."
"What if we write everything down, and make sure to keep it hidden?" Moira considered.
Charles' hand was still on Erik's arm. "I think the risk is too great," he argued. "What if we really don't know what's going on and one of us starts reading your note in class?"
"Hmmph, you're right. We'll have to rely on Dumbledore, then."
Erik shrugged. "He's never been anything but reliable so far. He didn't have to tell us about Shaw or this plan – he could have simply locked me in the dorm and said I was sick."
They'd reached the bottom of the Ravenclaw Tower stairs now, and had to split up.
"See you tomorrow," Erik said, pulling his arm away from Charles, then awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.
"Good night!" Charles and Moira went up the stairs and Erik was left behind.
He turned to go to his own dormitory, walking along the hall to the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Password!"
"Butterbeer," Erik replied, and the painting swung open to let him into the dorm. Armando immediately came over to see what he'd learned from Dumbledore, but he brushed him aside and went over to Gabrielle Haller instead, who was reading in a corner by herself, curled up in a big armchair.
Erik kept his voice low. "Gabrielle. Tomorrow there's a guest coming to Hogwarts, and he worked in my camp."
Gabrielle didn't look up from her book, but her fingers were holding it so tightly that her nails went white. "Is he after you?"
"Dumbledore will stop him. But until then, stay out of his way. He doesn't hate Jews, he just, he uses whoever he can. He likes children." Erik cursed himself for stumbling. He'd planned what to say, but Gabrielle's presence always tripped him up.
"Thanks," she said, quietly, closing her book. "I'll be careful."
Erik went back to his friends, and Gabrielle headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, her stance alert and nervous. Erik knew how she felt: it was going to be hard to hide out when every nerve was calling him to do something, anything. He wasn't naturally patient, but he'd learned how to be, and that's what he would have to do.
On to Chapter 6
Tags:
- big bang,
- fic,
- gen,
- harry potter,
- x-men