Keogh

~***~
Hermione twisted the lens of the torch in her hand, turning on the beam of light so she could see her way around the structure. A light spell would work better, of course, but as she wasn’t supposed to be away from the school grounds she didn’t want to risk being picked up performing underage magic. The rubber-skinned flashlight would have to do.

“All right.” She ran the light over the crumbling wood of the abandoned cottage. Ignored and empty for the better part of a century, the elements had done quite a number on it. Scavengers had already stolen most of the useable glass and fixtures, things that were hard to come by in less prosperous times. She noted a support beam had fallen down after someone had taken the iron bracings that had once attached it to the wall frames, blocking the way to the narrow staircase leading up and pretty much confirming that the floor above would probably be a death trap. “Fortunately I’m not going upstairs.”

She picked her way gingerly across the kitchen floor, taking care to test in front of her before putting her full weight down. She didn’t care to crash through the floor and into the basement. She’d rather get there taking the stairs, thank you. Eventually she reached the door leading down, finding that the hardware had already been stripped. It fell free under the slightest tug, forcing her to take a step backwards quickly so that it wouldn’t fall on her. The impact of door to floor sent up a cloud of dust, thrusting a brief cough and sneeze fit upon her.

Once she had gained control of herself again she pressed on, taking the rickety steps one at a time with the light shining before her. Something small and furry with a long bald tail dashed across her field of vision and she let out a rather girlish shriek that she was very happy Kathryn wasn’t around to hear. “How about that Gryffindor Bravery?” She heard Salazar chuckle inside her mind.

“If the rat attacks you can always turn yourself into a snake and eat it.”

“No thanks, and ‘ewww’.”

“It was only a suggestion.” She rolled her eyes and moved downwards until she was standing on the earthen floor of what had been Mr. Hallifax’s work area.

A blacksmith by trade, it had been most unusual for the wizard to delve into potion making, but there was no end to what a parent’s love could do. Her torchlight moved over the thick bars of a cage that took up all of one wall. This was where Hallifax had been forced to keep his son during the full moon. She remembered Remus telling them that when he had changed he had been secured in the Shrieking Shack. Having no one else to bite, he would claw and bite himself. Had Hallifax forced himself to listen to his son’s howls of pain as he did the same?

She suppressed a shudder and moved on. What she was looking for was hidden in the east wall, the opposite side of the cellar from the cage. Hallifax had hidden it out of concern. There had always been a great deal of animosity towards werewolves, and his research into finding a way to allow them to be out and about in wolf form had not been well accepted. There had been those who had thought he should put his son down rather than work to find an answer to his curse. Because of this, the wizard had hidden his journals to keep them from being stolen or destroyed.

Hermione ran the torchlight over the east wall. She was looking for a sconce that was subtlety different form the others. Unfortunately, they all looked the same. Stepping closer she peered at each one in turn, examining the wrought iron until she came across one that was missing the inverted fleur de lis present at the base of the others. She took a breath and gripped the sconce with one hand. A quarter turn to the right, one half turn to the left and finally a quarter turn back to the right so that the sconce was righted once more. Just as Hallifax had instructed. She was rewarded by a click followed by the sound of stones grating against each other. To the left of the sconce the stones seemed to shudder before vanishing, leaving a sizeable compartment no more than two feet square. Inside, covered in thick dust and yellowed from age, were Hallifax’s journals.

“Brilliant.” She reached in and took them up gently before slipping them into the satchel slung across her torso to rest against her hip. “Glad that’s over. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Understandable. I don’t trust it not to fall in on you. Now that you are relatively secure I would recommend teleporting from here rather than risk making your way back outside.”

“Sal, you read my mind.”

The dead wizard gave a growl. “How many times do I have to ask you not to call me ‘Sal’?”
~***~
Hermione was quite pleased with Harry at the moment. He was really taking to the task set before him, even if he didn’t realize it just yet.

“I still believe that it should be you running this.”

“It can’t be me. I’ve told you! Harry has to believe in himself and everyone here has to believe in Harry. He’s The-Boy-Who-Lived. He’s more than a teenager or a wizard, he’s a bloody symbol.”

“And a ‘bloody’ symbol is likely what he’ll become if you insist on putting a boy that young up against a fully grown dark wizard.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is the way things have to be.” Harry worked to correct Neville on his technique as Cedric worked with the Patil twins. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Padma giggle and flirt with her boyfriend. Lucky for the witch, the wizard didn’t show the slightest interest.

She was finding that it was a bit tricky to hold herself back in the group. True she was known to be a bit more advanced than the other students, but not to the levels that she had reached in her private training. Working at their pace, however, felt like moving at a snail’s pace. She knew that Cedric was having the same trouble but he made up for it with a natural aptitude for teaching. If his future in diplomacy fell through, she was certain that Hogwarts would welcome him back gladly.

The session went on for nearly two hours, which was all they dared considering that many of them still had class work to do. After deciding when next to meet they departed a few at a time so as not to raise suspicion. Hermione and Cedric were the last to part, walking hand in hand down the corridor. “Have you had a chance to look through the journals?”

He nodded. “Yes, and thank you for getting them for me. His grammar and spelling leave much to be desired, I don’t think he had a strong formative education, but he was thorough in keeping track of what he was doing. It’s… humbling, really. I can’t help but imagine him, this barely literate, impoverished wizard embarking on such an endeavor and coming up with the results he did. I can think of very few educated wizards who would have managed it.”

“He was a father desperate to save his son. His goal was to find a cure, and he worked on it even after his son died, but Hallifax died himself before he could complete his work while here.”

Ced frowned. “While here?”

Hermione shrugged and lowered her voice. “While he was alive. He’s kept up with it since passing and has gotten quite a bit of progress done, though he still hasn’t found what he thinks would be a true cure.” She tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “But the journals should put you on the right path, and I can help by looking over your work if you get stuck. I’m not going to give you the answers, even if you wanted me to. You need to work it out on your own or you’d always wonder if you cheated and feel guilty over it.” He didn’t bother to argue the point. Hermione grinned at his quiet acceptance.

He pulled her to a stop as they reached the point where he would break off to go to the Hufflepuff dorms and she would head back to Gryffindor. “Quidditch match tomorrow. We’re playing against Ravenclaw. Come and watch me play?”

She smiled. “Of course. I have to cheer you on.”

He grinned. “I’ll send up my scarf so you can wear it during the game. Should be easy to spot the yellow amidst all that red.”

“You’re supposed to spot the Snitch, Mr. Diggory.”

“True, but you’re so much prettier.” She rolled her eyes as he leaned down to kiss her. She returned it, pressing forward and up on her toes a bit for better reach. The all-too-familiar hem hem of Delores Umbridge caused them to spring apart.

The High Inquisitor was watching them with narrowed eyes and one of her sugar-sweet smiles. “Cavorting in the halls, Miss Snape? I hardly think your father would approve of such behavior. And Mr. Diggory, a Head Boy really should know better.”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “I hardly call holding hands and a peck on the lips ‘cavorting’, Ma’am. And it’s Granger.”

“Temper, girl. I know she’s an odious toad but she holds a good deal of power right now.”

Umbridge’s brow shot up, along with her chin. “Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Snape, and another Twenty from Hufflepuff, Mr. Diggory. And I will be discussing this matter with your Heads of House as well as with Professor Snape. Now, get back to your dorms.” She remained rooted to the spot, unwavering under Hermione’s gaze.

Cedric gave Hermione’s fingers a gentle squeeze before parting from her and heading back to his own dorms. Hermione lifted a chin a bit and turned to move away. Leave it to Umbridge not to know when to keep her mouth shut. “Still, Miss Snape, Mr. Diggory is from an old and well respected pureblood line. You and your father are both classified as half bloods I believe? Well, such a match would be quite fortunate on your part.”

“No, you cannot kill her.”

“Of course I can’t kill her! I would never willingly subject the Great Majority to that creature one second earlier than her fated time.”

She felt the ancient wizard chuckle inside her head as she made her way to the tower. “Thank you for that. Listening to her through you is bad enough.”
~***~
Severus kept his posture deceptively relaxed. He was seated on one of Mulciber’s fine leather sofas wishing he had a stiff drink right about now. The Dark Lord was giving McNair and Dolohov their orders, sending the repulsive creatures away with a wave of his hand. “Snape,” he barked out in that cold, high voice, “what news from Hogwarts?”

He shielded his mind carefully, though it had been some time since Voldemort had bothered trying to read him. “Dumbledore continues to try and recruit new members into the Order of the Phoenix, but the Ministry’s efforts are making it difficult for him. He has the Weasleys, of course, and the remaining members from the Order in the seventies, but few others have bothered to join out of fear of losing their jobs or having Ministry officials descend upon them.”

“Good. Very good. Fudge is a fool, but his paranoia is working in our favor.” Pale, spider like fingers drummed on the polished surface of the heavy desk behind which the Dark Lord was sitting. “Severus, stay here. Everyone else leave us.” This was rarely a good thing. Snape schooled himself not to show fear as the other Death Eaters bowed in reverence before departing. The door of Mulciber’s library swung shut with a heavy thud behind the last one. “Severus, has Dumbledore mentioned anything about recruiting a witch named ‘Keogh’?”

Severus frowned. “No, My Lord, that name is unfamiliar to me.”

"Are you certain?” There was a tinge of concern in the wizard’s voice. “Keogh. Kathryn Keogh, both names beginning with a ‘k’. She would nearing seventy now.”

He shook his head. “No, My Lord. Nothing has been said to me about it.” He paused. “Is she someone with whom you are familiar?”

The Dark Lord gazed into the fire with red eyes. “A student from my days at Hogwarts. She arrived during our seventh year after her parents called her back from the Americas. Many muggles, and even several magical families, sent their children abroad during the muggle war. They wanted them away from England and the German bombings. The first few were being brought home that year.”

He had known this, of course. Magical History was often interlaced with Muggle History. And the madman, Hitler, had been obsessed with magic and the occult. There had been several dark wizards who had joined his SS for the sheer pleasure of being given the freedom to torture and experiment on muggles. It had been dark times for their world. Gridlewald in the north and the Nazis to the south, with the British magical community sandwiched in between. “You believe that she may side with the Order, My Lord?”

“I think she already has, Severus.” Voldemort got up from his chair, his robes billowing behind him. “She was there, that night in the graveyard. The night I got my body back. She was attacking us from the shadows. Distracting us so that Potter could get away.”

Snape frowned again. Lucius had mentioned something about this. “I was under the impression that had been more than one attacker, My Lord. From what Malfoy described, the spells came too quickly.”

Voldemort sliced the air with a pale hand. “It was she! I could not see her face, but the light from her spells allowed me to see her silhouette. There was only one person there, that night. And she was more than capable of attacking with the force of three of four wizards.”

“Surely no one is that skilled of a duelist!”

The Dark Lord paused, his expression one of remembering. “She was. She is! She always had a traditional wand for class work. A single wand, like every other student, and she was quite proficient in its use. But for dueling… for dueling she had two wands. Two special wands, each double-ended so that they worked as though she was holding four wands in all.”

Disbelief was the only label that could be giving to what Snape was feeling at the moment. “Double wands? But… that’s not possible. Even if a wand maker was to create such a thing, who could possibly have the presence of mind or speed of thought to use them?”

“Keogh could!” The answer cut through the air like a frozen sword. “Keogh could and did. She was an exceptionally powerful witch. She claimed to be a mudblood, but I always had my doubts. No… I always wondered if it weren’t more likely that she was ashamed of her parents in some way. So much so that she would rather claim to be devoid of magical blood rather than claim them.”

Severus pondered the Dark Lord’s concerns carefully. The wizard was truly worried about this witch, whomever she was. “I have not heard of her, but I will keep my ears open, My Lord. Eventually all members of the Order become known to one another. If I hear of her, I will report back immediately.”

“Good. Good.” Voldemort waved a hand dismissively. “You may go, Snape. And tread carefully. The witch always had an uncanny ability of knowing what was going on. Rather like that fool, Dumbledore, in that respect.”

He gave a bow and left the library. There was no mistaking it; Voldemort was concerned that this unknown witch might throw her lot in with Dumbledore. That meant that if she was still about, they needed her on their side. And quickly. He disapparated to a point inside Hogsmede and made his way back to the school. He needed to report to the Headmaster immediately.

He found Albus pacing his study as usual, his thoughts heavy with worry. "Headmaster. I have returned.”

Dumbledore swung his gaze around and studied him from head to toe. “And in one piece, I see. Good. I’m always concerned that he’ll suddenly take to distrusting you.” He motioned for Snape to sit down and went back to his heavy desk. “How goes it?”

Severus settled into the chair. “He is still unable to get his hands on the prophecy. I do not believe he has yet learned that only he and Potter can remove it from the shelf. Of course, he cannot get into the Department of Mysteries, so once he does learn he will likely attempt to lure the boy there.”

“Yes, I expect that he will. We will need to keep a close watch on Harry and try to keep him from being his own worst enemy in this.” The aged wizard leaned back in his chair. “Anything else?”

“Yes, Headmaster. The Dark Lord was inquiring about a witch he fears may have joined the Order.”

Albus arched a brow behind his spectacles. “Oh?”

Snape gave a curt nod. “He said her name was Kathryn Keogh, a girl who transferred here during his seventh year after her family called her back from the Americas.” He watched as the Headmaster’s expression grew guarded. “You know of her?”

“Oh, yes, I remember Miss Keogh quite well, Severus. An exceptionally talented witch. She and Mr. Riddle came against one another more than once during that year. I believe he tried to seduce her into joining his group of followers, but she is not one to follow anybody.”

“Then she is still alive?”

“Oh, yes, quite alive. However, I do not believe that she is the person now that Voldemort expects her to be after fifty years.” He smoothed his robes over his lap. “Which is fortunate for Miss Keogh. It will keep him looking in the wrong place.”

“Should we not try and bring her into the Order? Clearly the Dark Lord is concerned about it. I hesitate to go this far, but it almost seemed as though he was afraid of her.”

“And well he should be, Severus. He would be a fool not to fear her. After all, she came from a singularly unique bloodline.”

“She claimed to be a muggleborn.”

“Half-blood, actually, though she had little exposure to the magical world before schooling. Still, it served her purpose to avoid entanglements with the magical half of her family. She was too… unusual, and needed to be on her own in order to get a better grasp of herself.” The headmaster chuckled as though remembering a particularly pleasant memory. “As for bringing her into the Order, not just yet I think. No, Miss Keogh does far better if left to her own devices.”

“And if the Dark Lord should succeed in wooing her to his cause?”

“Oh, no danger of that, Severus. She doesn’t approve of the company he keeps and I rather doubt he would be willing to allow her to slaughter some of his more vicious allies.”
~***~