Avenging Fire

Hellie,


The tone of your last letter told me that you’re still rather upset with us all but what else were we supposed to do and think? None of us are thrilled that you are being forced to take sanctuary at Hogwarts but really, what is the alternative? If Mr. Dumbledore says that you won’t be safe at your home, then you must allow him to shelter you until a solution can be found. I understand your anger but you must remember the wizarding world is on the brink of civil war and that some even mean to bring it to the non-magical one. The attack on you proves that. We’ve all discussed it and agree that surely there must have been a good reason why he initially concealed his knowledge of the danger you and the twins are in.


Your father and I were torn apart when Steffen and Mary were killed. No parent should have to experience the death of a child. We did and it nearly killed us. If we lose you too, I’m certain that we won’t survive it. Your career is not worth your life.

As a change of subject, we found a copy of Mr. Smythe’s book (labeled as occult fiction) and read it. If what he wrote is true, then it’s no surprise that the wizarding world doesn’t embrace Paranormals considering that during the Separation Wars, right before the onset of the Dark Ages, Paranormals were used by those without magic against those with. Then, as a final insult after the Great Separation, many of those same Paranormals were burned at the stake, having been accused of sorcery themselves. Only in Europe, mind you. The later witch hunts in the Colonies were politically driven and fuelled by religious hysteria. Very few, if any, actual magicals were burned considering the Great Separation was already several centuries old at that point.

It’s a shame really. They’ve held onto this grudge for so long, that most have forgotten what it was originally about and now just take it as a given that Paranormals have no place in the wizarding world.

Naturally we’re all rather shocked at this new development in your life. Shocked, but excited. Just imagine what Steffen would say! Something occurred to me the other day that I don’t think I’ve ever told you. When I was pregnant with your brother, and once we discovered at the end of my first trimester that he was magical, we had Fern Athenbury act as midwife. Then when I was pregnant with you, she scanned me again to see if you were going to be magical as well. She said something that at the time didn’t seem important but now, who knows. She said, “This one is different. Not like the brother.”


At the time, we assumed she meant you weren’t magical. We even asked her to clarify, and she again confirmed that you weren’t magical, but it was the way she said ‘different.’ Maybe she knew then that you were a Paranormal. We should have asked her to explain, but she was rather esoteric to begin with and chances were, we still wouldn’t have completely understood her answer. I’d find her now and ask her, but the old dear was halfway to ancient when she delivered Steffen and is now long since dead.

Your dad and I had a chuckle after finishing Mr. Smythe’s book. Forgive us for laughing, but we’re so very grateful you didn’t manifest as a child. Primarily because of the emotional trauma involved, but can you imagine you as a Paranormal and your wizard brother in the same house? I don’t think the house would have survived the way you and he were growing up! Not only would I have been constantly after Steffen to stop his mischief, but I’d also have been chasing levitating objects about and putting out fires, most likely from the seat of Steffen’s trousers at that!


I’d have gone completely white headed!


How have you been doing with your newfound abilities? Mr. Smythe wrote about a period of physical adjustment where headaches, body aches, increased metabolism, and so on, are common in the newly manifested. Look at the bright side, at least now you can enjoy sweets without as much guilt!

How are the twins getting on? We’ve received only one 3 sentence letter from each of them, but that’s to be expected. I hope they like their care packages. I had to enlist the assistance of the young man in the comic book shop as to which Batman issues to buy to keep Christopher up to date. And tell Alex that the coloured pens and Hello Kitty stationary are specifically for letters to her poor ol’ Grandmum and Grandad. Let’s see if she takes the hint!

Your father just wandered in. He wanted me to tell you hello and ‘chin up’ and find something to occupy your time so you don’t sit and stew. It’s the first time I’ve seen him today. He’s been working on another paper and you know how he gets when he’s writing.

If you’re wondering why Hieronymus delivered this letter and package, Albert has loaned him to you for the duration of your stay at Hogwarts, since you requested a sturdy owl for correspondences. He can get by with just Ulysses. I hope Hieronymus will be cooperative with you. He’s had his own private roost at Albert’s for so long, Albert says he might object to roosting with the school’s owls so don’t be surprised if you get an insistent roommate with an overblown sense of entitlement.



I nearly forgot! Cynthia says she is planning to write Mr. Dumbledore to ask permission to visit you once a week so you don’t feel so isolated and alone. She’s also planning to ask if perhaps once a month, and if she can get all of us there, if he would allow you a trip into Hogsmeade Village so we can see each other. You know my sister, she’s very persuasive. Keep your fingers crossed!

Speaking of your aunt, she wanted me to ask you, what happened to Queequeg? When he returned from his last trip to Hogwarts, he was in a pout and has refused to work as a courier since then. He’s on official birdy holiday until she gets him sorted out.

Well, that’s it for now. Write us soon and often and never forget that we love you more than you could imagine!


Mum


*&*&*


Hieronymus’ arrival at Hogwarts was heralded by the indignant and fearful screeches from assorted family owls delivering their missives to breakfasting students. Helena had been idly stirring her morning coffee when the commotion erupted. Looking up from the swirling dark liquid inside her mug, she caught sight of her wizard uncle’s Eurasian Eagle owl just as he smacked a smaller owl off her trajectory with his impressive wing span and sent her spiraling down onto the Hufflepuff’s table. A portion of students from the section where the bird landed were now scourgifing spilt milk and orange juice from their school robes while the crashed owl shook off bits and pieces of toast from her feathers.


“They’ve sent Hieronymus. Talk about overkill.” she muttered to no one in particular.


“Now there’s a big one! Wonder whose owl that is. Don’t remember seein’ him before.” Hagrid commented as Hieronymus continued on his course.

Hagrid’s question was answered in short order as the large owl approached and unceremoniously dropped the package on top of Helena’s plate then lighted on top of the parcel. After settling his wings, he stretched forward and began to preen Helena’s hair.


“Is that your owl, Doctor?” Hagrid asked, admiring Hieronymus.



“No. My uncle’s.” she answered as she tried to coax the bird towards somewhere more appropriate.


“Well he’s certainly a handsome devil. That he is.”


Hieronymus puffed out his chest feathers at Hagrid’s compliment and began to turn around in a circle so his admirer could get a good look at him. Hagrid picked up a banger from off his plate and held it out. To Helena’s horror, not only did Hieronymus greedily snatch the banger from Hagrid’s fingers, but he hopped onto the platter which held the rest of the sausages then flew off, both talons full. Helena glanced around the table in mortification as the platter disappeared, only to be magically replaced with another, replenished and sanitary.


Several members of the faculty were looking with distaste at the area that Hieronymus had sullied. Helena picked up the parcel and tried brushing bits of scrambled egg from off the bottom, wondering who in her family had the brilliant idea of sending the owl who thought himself an emperor.



“Owl problems, Doctor?” a drawling voice challenged.



Helena glanced up at the source of the voice and could have sworn she saw a sardonic amusement in the eyes of the otherwise inscrutable expression Professor Snape habitually wore.


Oh yes. Titter titter. How very droll, Professor. ‘Owl problems’ indeed. Of course, you would know all about my owl problems, wouldn’t you?


“Now don’t you go worryin’ ‘bout that, Doctor. He’s just high spirited an’ proud.” Hagrid said.


The back of Helena’s neck was beginning to heat up from embarrassment so she decided to dismiss herself. Picking up the package and her mug of coffee, she stood and started to leave, but not before getting in a dig of her own. Professor Snape wasn’t the only one who could toss out a sarcastic quip.


“Thanks, Hagrid. He is only an owl, after all. I’d hate for him to encounter someone ill tempered enough to petrify him.”


“Petrify an owl! Why would anyone do such a thing?” Hagrid bristled at the prospect.



“That I wouldn’t know. Just making an idle statement. Good day, everyone.” she said as she began making her way to the faculty entrance. As she passed Snape, she glanced down with a quirked eyebrow of her own. Snape merely sipped at his tea.


*&*&*


Having finished with her review of 5 years worth of Daily Prophets, it was time to move on to school almanacs. Glancing at the notes from her conversation with Hagrid, Helena approached Madam Pince to direct her to the portion of the extensive library where the almanacs were shelved.


“Those would be in the reference section. I hope you weren’t planning to check any of them out. You’ll have to browse them in here.”



“I’ll make do. Thank you.”



“Found them yet?” Madam Pince asked as she began to walk away from her desk.



“What?” Helena froze. After the past several days of perusing stories of hate crimes, murders, and governmental posturing that hid apathetic indifference to the plight of its non-pure blood citizenry, she had become more than a little paranoid. To her, it sounded almost as if the librarian had asked if she found him yet.


“You said you were looking for references of your family. Have you found them yet?” Pince clarified.


Helena quickly swallowed the sudden lump that appeared in her throat.


“Yes. A few. I…I thought I might look to see if I can find any mention of them in the almanacs as well.”


“I’ll leave you to it then.”

Pince’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she watched Helena round a corner.


*&*&*



The Hogwarts 1938 almanac sat on the library shelf, undisturbed for an unknown amount of time until now. Helena’s hand hovered in front of it for several indecisive moments. There was a high probability that if she removed the book from the shelf and cracked open the pages therein, she would see images of the dark wizard that she had come to both loathe and fear these past few days. She found that instead of simply plucking the book from the shelf and setting about it, she was gripped with a heretofore unfamiliar hesitancy coupled with an urgent curiosity.



After all, it was he who was responsible for not only the death of her brother and sister-in-law, but scores of other innocent non-Magicals and Muggleborns. She curled her outstretched fingers into an angry and frustrated fist and began to tap into the clinical detachment so familiar to her. It was a necessity to those in professions where human misery was freely dealt. As a physician, Mary had to practice it and as a psychologist, Helena was no different. When Mary was still alive, they often conversed about compassion tempered with steely emotional self-control.



It’s just a book. He can’t hurt you from the paper within. You’ve faced murderers, rapists, and paedofiles. Quit being so dramatic, get a grip, and do what you mean to do.



With a quick shake of her head, Helena slid the book from the shelf. Then as an afterthought, she collected the almanacs through the year 1945 and headed towards a quiet table in the back of the library.


*&*&*


Helena had lost track of time, flipping through the pages and taking in all that was mentioned about Tom Riddle in seven years worth of Hogwarts almanacs. All in all, it really didn’t amount to all that much. She learned that he was a school Prefect and Head Boy during his time at Hogwarts. As far as pictures went, she only managed to find three and those were taken as Slytherin group photographs. Even if his name hadn’t been captioned underneath the images, Helena would have identified him nonetheless. In two of the photos, he had obviously stood at the far left hand side on purpose so that when the picture was printed, he would be first on the right hand side. Considering that the average person scanned their eyes from right to left when reading or examining documents, it was interesting that Riddle arranged himself in such a way that he would be the first person seen in the picture. The third photo Riddle was in, he stood slightly apart from the group so that your eyes were, again, drawn to him first.


Interesting but not surprising. The details about Riddle that Hagrid gave her suggested that, like many despotic leaders, he was a classic narcissist. This was not to be taken as mere vanity. A narcissist has a pathological need for adoration and adulation. In the cases of despots, nothing short of sycophantic worship was demanded. And when that despot also happened to be sociopath…



“Hi.”


Helena’s head snapped up at the library appropriate whispered greeting to see Alex and Sage peering at her. She quickly shut the opened book in front of her.


“Hi sweetie. Hello Sage. What are you two girls up to?”



“Herbology project. We have to identify these and then write a report about their properties.” Alex explained, holding up parchments of plant sketches.



“I hate Herbology. So boring.” Sage groaned.


“Yeah, but the greenhouse is always really pretty.” Alex countered.


“I suppose.”


“What are you doing?” Alex asked her aunt.


“Oh just looking at some almanacs. Killing time.” Helena answered, hoping that she sounded nonchalant enough to be believable. “Come to my quarters during your free time tonight. Your Grandmum sent you and Christopher some things.”


“Is that why Great Uncle Albie’s owl came this morning?” Alex asked, obviously excited about receiving a present.


“Yes. He’s loaned him to me too so you’ll be seeing quite a bit of Hieronymus.”



Once the two girls departed from her presence, Helena idly began flipping through the pages heading back into deep reflection again. Turning the pages of the 1940 almanac at random, her meandering thoughts led her to wonder why Riddle’s time at Hogwarts wasn’t more remarkable. Hagrid had said that as a student, Riddle was, by and large, rather quiet. Brilliant, but quiet. Knowing what she did about Psychopathy and how antisocial behavior develops, surely something should have stood out about him. People don’t one day wake up a fully developed sociopath. Usually behavioral disruptions in childhood and adolescence were the heralds of the burgeoning monster.


Glancing out a window at the first signs of the approaching dusk, Helena decided to wrap up this day’s research and go freshen up before dinner and the twins’ later visit to collect their gifts. Just as she began to close the 1940 almanac, something caught her eye. Another group photo, but in this one, an impossibly large boy stood behind his dwarfed housemates. The shaggy, unkempt mop of dark hair covered the boy’s eyes, but not his ear to ear smile. Squinting at the caption underneath, she read “R. Hagrid” mixed in with the rest of the names of the 1940 1st year Gryffindors.


Smiling at seeing a photo of her new acquaintance/friend, Helena quickly thumbed through the rest of the 1940 almanac, then the 1941, 1942, and 1943 almanacs, looking for more references of Hagrid’s time at Hogwarts. Oddly enough, she couldn’t find any further mention of him past 1943, even though she thoroughly combed the Gryffindor sections. Perhaps he transferred, she thought and made a mental note to ask Hagrid where he finished his education.

After carefully reshelving the books, she packed up her messenger bag, and gave a quick smile and nod to Madam Pince as she exited the library.

*&*&*

After dinner, the twins arrived at her quarters to claim the gifts from their grandparents. Alex promised to write a nice letter to her grandparents the coming weekend on the Hello Kitty stationary, and Helena extracted a promise from Christopher that the Batman comics were only to be read after his homework was completed and only in Gryffindor. After a short and pleasant conference, the twins left, their arms full of Hello Kitty, Batman, and other sundry items of value in the world of children.



Once they departed, Helena opened a small cabinet in her quarters and brought out a bottle of homemade Elderberry wine that her father had made, poured a glass, and sat down in front of her fireplace to lose herself in an academic study report in a professional journal of psychology.

*&*&*

The mantle clock read 11:05 and Helena gave up on successfully falling asleep. Her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Between her newfound, almost obsession, with learning about Riddle, and renewed frustration prompted by opening the mail that reminded her of her interrupted life, she wasn’t tired in the least. After practicing a bit with her abilities by levitating and spinning various objects in her quarters and lighting and extinguishing the fire in her fireplace, she decided to take a quiet walk through the castle. She wanted to walk the same corridors that Riddle had walked. See the same things that Riddle saw. Smell the same air that he had breathed. She tucked her notebook under her arm in case she found anything of note and slipped a pen behind her ear and left her quarters to go exploring.


Know thine enemy



At night, Hogwarts was very dark and could be considered rather forbidding. Normally this might have been a problem that required Helena to scrounge for a lantern, but now…well, she was her own source of illumination. Holding an arm out with her palm upturned, she manifested a small fire that provided enough light to allow her to see several feet in front of her.



Lost your cigarette lighter you say? Helena Nyx, Pyrokinetic, at your service! I’m also handy on camping trips, at bonfire lightings, and hey, I can get your car out of the ditch as well! She giggled to herself.



She hesitated as she began twisting her way through the dungeons proper, remembering Snape’s stuffy request that she not manifest fire around the Potions classroom but the corridor was quiet and dark and she hoped the man was asleep and wouldn’t come popping out, braying like a mule at her.



Severus Snape. Potions Master of Hogwarts and the scourge of owls everywhere. She giggled again.



That second glass of wine obviously has gone to your head. Berk.




The deserted corridors and passageways of Hogwarts castle made for an eerie environment. She wondered if Riddle too prowled the corridors at night while his mind slowly metamorphasised into something inhuman. Could he have walked this particular stretch? Did he perhaps stop in front of the glass of the trophy cases to straighten his tie before a class?

Trophy cases.



Of course! Helena remembered the day of her trip to the Ministry of Magic to register as a Paranormal. Snape had glamoured her and she had stopped in front of a display case to look at herself. In the few brief moments before Snape had huffed at her to keep up, she saw plaques with brass name plates of students who had excelled at this or that over the years. Hogwarts had many such display cases decorating the halls and it was reasonable to assume that perhaps Riddle had his own brass name plate somewhere in one of the cases, being a school Prefect and Head Boy.



Worth checking out at any rate, she decided. Perhaps she might see one with Steffen’s name on it, or another relative’s.


*&*&*


The mood was tense inside the Headmaster’s office. Most of the faculty was there, some in their dressing gowns or bathrobes and slippers. Professor Sprout’s hair was done up in magical curlers and her face was slick with anti-wrinkle cream. Professor McGonagall paced back in forth in her tartan bathrobe. Close to the midnight hour, the alarms situated in each of their living quarters had sounded, alerting them that someone or something had attempted to enter Hogwarts grounds.




“So it’s begun already.” she said with a clipped Scottish brogue and wringing of hands. “He’s just a boy!”




“Calm yourself, Minerva.” Dumbledore said in a gentle tone.




“Calm myself? Albus, someone just tried to breach the castle’s protective spells. It’s starting. They’re coming after Harry!”




“And, as you can see, they didn’t get very far.”




“This time. What about the next time? Or the time after that?” she continued.




“Hogwarts is the safest place on earth for Harry right now.”




“Oh this is maddening!” McGonagall hissed in frustration. “How dare they be so bold!”



The door to the Headmaster’s office opened and Snape entered frowning.



“Severus, what did you find?” Dumbledore asked.



“It does not appear to have been in earnest, Sir. There were no signs of any attempted curse breaking. It was as if someone had merely…tapped on the outer spell barrier.”



“But why would they stop with that? It makes no sense.” Professor Flitwick asked.



“Except to alarm us, which I now suspect was the reason. For Harry’s sake, we all must keep a level head. I fear that this won’t be the only time they attempt to instill fear and panic in us. The last thing we want to do is allow them to succeed.” Dumbledore said.



“What would you have us do?” Professor McGonagall asked, calmer but not by much.



“Each of us should examine the existing spells and protections and fortify them if we can find a way to do so. I will have Hagrid go into the Forbidden Forest and question the Centaurs. Although they aren’t likely to intervene, they may be willing to share any unusual activity they notice. I want all of this done as quietly as is possible. I do not want the students to know what has happened, nor do I want them to see what we’re doing in response. For obvious reasons of course.”



“Will it be enough?” Professor Sprout asked.



“It will have to be, Pomona. Now, let us all retire. There is nothing more to be done tonight and we all need to be at our best from now on.”



Reluctantly, everyone stood and bid one another goodnight and began to exit the Headmaster’s office. Instead of returning to his chambers, Dumbledore followed the group down the moving staircase.


“Albus?”



“At times like these, Minerva, I find warm chocolate cake and cold milk most satisfactory. I believe I shall retrieve some from the kitchens myself and not disturb the elves. Join me for a slice?”


*&*&*


Helena was wandering through Hogwarts examining any display cases she came upon. She had thus far only found Quidditch cases housing trophies and honouring outstanding players. Obviously this was going to take several more nighttime outings as there were dozens of cases in the main corridors and passageways and even more in separate rooms throughout the castle. Decades upon decades worth.



She passed a large grandfather clock and saw that it was a little past midnight. She had been at it for nearly an hour. Even though she still wasn’t tired, she decided to give up for tonight and return to her quarters after looking in the three remaining cases left in the corridor. Approaching one, she held her ignited upturned palm above her head and leaned in towards the glass.



“You there! What do you think you’re doing?” hissed a voice directly behind her as a sharp finger prodded her shoulder blade.


Helena screamed and spun around. When she did, the flame on her hand flared up and out as if gasoline had been thrown on her and whatever had been behind her was flung against the opposite wall by psychokinesis.



*&*&*



“Oh my heavens! What was that?!”


“Did you hear that scream?!”


“Sweet Merlin! Did they get in after all?”


With wands drawn and adrenaline surging, the Hogwarts faculty rushed off in the direction of the disturbance.


*&*&*


Helena’s entire body was shaking as she stared at the figure slumped against the wall. Forcing her quaking legs to walk, she staggered with halting steps towards the person she had reflexively flung away from her with psychokinesis. The corridor was dark once again, lit only by moonlight and a few small wall torches now, her pyrokinetic flame extinguished. Relief tried to register as the figure began to move but all she could feel was terror. A wrinkled head full of greasy long hair lifted and glared at her with fury.



“Mr. Filch? My god I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?” she breathed as she stretched out her hand towards the old man to help him to his feet.



Filch nastily swiped at her hand and began trying to pick himself off the floor. Mrs. Norris was yowling and darting around and hissing at Helena.



“Argus?”



Spinning around again, Helena saw members of the faculty standing with wands drawn and their eyes shifting back and forth between her and Filch. She felt a surge of panic welling up in her chest. An old man, nasty and hateful though he may be, was mostly likely hurt and it was because of her. What if she had burned him with her pyrokinesis? Dumbledore was right; she could kill people without intending to. The thought of that made her want to vomit.



Madam Pomfrey rushed to the prone man and began running her wand over his old bones.



“Argus?” Dumbledore asked again. “What happened?”



“That woman attacked me! Unprovoked too, I might add.”



“That’s a lie!” Helena hissed, shocking herself with the sudden onslaught of anger. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he had nearly scared the life out of her. Ever since her attack, she had developed a hypersensitive startle reflex making her unusually tetchy.



The faculty’s eyes shifted over to her once again. Thinking that Helena was now on the defensive, Filch maliciously elaborated his story.



“I was doing my rounds and simply asked what she was doing. She was fiddling with that display there. Next thing I know, she blasts me across the corridor!”



“I did no such thing! You purposely snuck up behind me and jabbed me with your finger! Have you not learned any manners, you horrible old man?!”



Filch glared back at her.




“Madam Pomfrey?” Dumbledore asked with a knowing twitch of his eyebrows.




“Nothing is broken and he’s not hurt.” she answered, sheathing her wand inside her dressing gown.




“Not hurt?! I tell you, this woman meant to do me harm!” Filch snarled.



“Argus, go to the infirmary and Poppy will give you something for the aches and pain. Now, if you all will excuse Professor McGonagall and me, we have an urgent appointment with a slice of chocolate cake.”



At that, the Headmaster ushered his stern faced companion towards the kitchens as Argus Filch looked on, slack jawed and gobsmacked.



“You heard him. Go to the infirmary, cranky old goat.” Pomfrey scolded.



Determining that he would receive no further sympathy, Argus Filch stood up sharply and shuffled off towards the hospital wing, muttering bitterly with Mrs. Norris trailing along behind. The rest of the faculty glanced about curiously and resumed their treks towards their respective quarters; Snape however moved into the shadows to listen and observe. Helena had, at some point, helplessly pressed her fingers to her lips and was shaking her head with remorseful agitation. Once Filch was out of earshot, Pomfrey walked up to Helena and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.


“It’s alright, Doctor. Argus wasn’t hurt.”



“You don’t understand. This is what I’ve been afraid of! I could have killed him! If this corridor had been any wider…”



“But you didn’t. Don’t punish yourself. You can’t help what happened.”



Helena softly groaned.



“Come to the infirmary at four o’clock this afternoon and have a cup of tea with me.” Pomfrey said, patting Helena’s shoulder. “And try to rest. Really, prowling the castle at this hour!”



Helena nodded and the two women parted company. Once both were gone, Snape stepped out of his hiding spot and looked at the display case Dr. Nyx allegedly was ‘fiddling’ with and wondered what was so interesting about it that it necessitated a midnight sightseeing tour. Stepping back to better frown at the case, he noticed a Muggle notebook on the ground and observed that it was the same one he had spied her writing in when she was in the library’s periodicals room. He stooped and picked it up then moved into a narrow beam of moonlight and opened it.



“That’s mine.”



Dr. Nyx was standing off to the side with an indignant frown. Turning his head to meet her eyes, he fixed her with an impassive expression and was just about to raise an eyebrow with his signature quirk when she reached out and snatched it out of his hands with a huff.



“Do you mind?!” she snipped and stormed away.




Snape scowled after her but the effect was wasted. She was halfway down the corridor when a small flame ignited and grew smaller until it disappeared around a corner, along with the Paranormal manifesting it.


*&*&*


Albus Dumbledore poured a glass of cold milk and slid it across the small table in the kitchen to join Professor McGonagall’s slice of chocolate cake which sat untouched in front of her. Glancing up at her accusatory expression, he sighed and picked up his fork.



“Kitten?”



“Albus, in light of…”




“Yes yes. It was…unfortunate, however…”




“Unfortunate? What if Argus had been a student? Albus, I beseech you, stop this unprecedented foolishness and…”




“Yes?” Dumbledore looked his half-moon eyeglasses at McGonagall who immediately decided to temper her previously planned rant.




“What I mean to say is, now that Harry…do we really have the effort to spare to look after her as well? It’s obvious that she would rather not be here. Not that I blame her, mind you. I would be agitated too considering the circumstances.”




Dumbledore sighed heavily and suddenly appeared very tired as he rubbed his brow.




“If I allow her to leave, she will be dead in a matter of days, if not hours. And, as you and I both know, it will be in a most horrific fashion. As far as the Death Eaters are concerned, one of their own is dead because of her. Each Headmaster of this school is oath bound to grant sanctuary and extend protection to all those in danger entering here. Considering what is in front of us now, I daresay the good doctor will not be the only one that Hogwarts will shelter from the coming storm.”



McGonagall was silent for several moments before she spoke again. “Albus, I hope you don’t think I was being…”



“No, my dear. It was proper that you thought of Harry first. Please continue to do so.” he said, patting her hand. “Now, let’s enjoy our cake before its warmth is gone. Chocolate is very restorative, don’t you find?”




Minerva McGonagall slid her chair closer to Dumbledore so that his hand could remain on hers while they ate in a companionable silence.




-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


A/N: A long time updating. Sorry. I found it interesting that Dr. Nyx is doing the same thing Riddle did when he attended Hogwarts. He was looking for evidence of his father (not knowing at the time the man wasn’t a wizard) whereas she is looking for evidence of him. Of course, she has no idea that he did this.


Snape and the Doctor seem destined to annoy one another, don’t they? *wink*

At any rate, now you know why Dumbledore is holding her against her will. He has to, as the position of Headmaster carries an oath along with it to do so. I wanted to point this out in the author’s notes because of the Mary Sue factor. It isn’t because Dr. Nyx is inordinately special or that everything hinges on her (which would be very Sue indeed), but he simply has no choice in the matter. Now, whether you want believe he would still do so if an oath hadn’t been in place, I’ll leave that up to you. As far as this story goes, I know the answer to that but I’m not going to reveal it until later.


The letter from her mother also tells us that Helena is getting guilt tripped by her family. Ah family, eh? There might also be a few clues.



Hope you enjoyed. And remember the old proverb, “Feedback maketh the soul rejoice.”