Vengeance

Vengeance
Chapter Four


000


Disclaimer: These characters still belong to JK Rowling. The information on the Eleusinian Mysteries is from The Homeric Hymns, translation and introduction by Susan C. Shelmerdine.


000


Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.
- Joseph Joubert


000


The Gyr falcon soared high over the forest, catching eddies of wind on its wings. While it was odd to see falcon hunting so late on a midsummer’s night, it was not unheard of. Even odder was the colouring of this particular falcon. Deep solid brown, the falcon had no other markings. However, the feathers gave the distinct impression of … fuzziness…that was strange for a falcon of mature age.


The keen dark eyes of the falcon alighted upon the edge of the forest, and soon a large sprawling castle came into view.


Letting out a screech of triumph, the large bird began to descend slowly, circling in tight spirals to reach a clearing at the edge of the forest. Ignoring the wildlife that skittered out of her way, the predator gingerly set foot on the ground.


Utterly still, the falcon seemed to freeze utterly still. Then, gradually, the air around the bird began to shimmer, move. The figure of the bird began to waver and morph into something bigger. Long graceful bare limbs replaced wicked claws and powerful wings, as the falcon assumed its proper, human shape.


The thief had arrived at Hogwarts.


Swiftly, silently, the thief patted herself down.


Wand: check.


Rope: check.


Portkey: check.


Marauder’s Map: check.


Good. All was in order.


With a quietly hissed “Silencio” on her feet, the thief jogged at a steady pace to the castle.


Paranoid as the Dark King was becoming in his power, all safety precautions were taken to guard the castle. Guards were placed at every known castle entrance. Wards were put up, and protection spells unleashed. Dementors were called to guard the entrances to the grounds, to protect their master. Hogwarts was unassailable.


Or so they thought.


The thief had been inside the Hogwarts defenses about fifteen times in the past five years. Enough experience to be confident of her skills, not so much that she would get cocky.


The problem with securing Hogwarts was the fickle nature of the building itself. Always changing, no one knew the whereabouts of any one thing at any time. No one knew how to predict the changes. Except the thief.


The thief jogged fluidly to the base of the castle, slowing as she reached it, not even winded. She calmly walked around the castle until she reached the base of Gryffindor tower. Fondly, she stroked the smooth stone. Looking around her, she searched with her keen eyes for any trespassers on her position. Satisfied there were no prying eyes present, she counted the number of stones from the base of the tower. Reaching the seventh, she caressed it briefly, then pushed gently.


The stones quivered slightly, and then rearranged themselves to make a small door in the base of the tower. Stepping through quickly, the portal closed itself seamlessly behind her.


Brandishing her wand, the thief gave a quiet “Lumos” and the area around her was filled with a gentle light. Methodically, she took out the Marauder’s map from a hidden pocket in her shirt. In a whisper, she intoned, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” and tapped the parchment lightly with her wand. A full map of Hogwarts bled onto the parchment.


Good, the passage is still blocked. Must not have realized that it’s usable yet.


The thief silently stole through the passage until she got to the blockage. The corridor was covered with a pile of rock from floor to ceiling. With a lifting spell, she moved a few rocks at the top to reveal a small round hole that a tiny adult or a large child could squeeze though.


Keeping the rocks aloft with her wand, the thief scrambled over the pile to the hole, and shimmied through. Turning around, she blocked the hole again, replacing the rocks, covering all traces of the hole.


Ugh, I think I bruised my bum going through that thing. Am I gaining weight?


She stole through the passage and up numerous flights of stairs until she reached a blank wall. Giving the map a thorough once over, and satisfied that there was no one in the immediate area to spy her, she tapped the map with her wand and said, “Mischief managed.” Making sure the silencing charms on her feet were still strong, she extinguished the light from her wand and replaced it up her sleeve.


She stood there silently, letting her eyes adjust to the strange dim light coming through the wall. Raising her hand, she touched its surface. As her finger touched, waves seemed to propagate endlessly from the touch, like a stone thrown on waters surface.


Satisfied the portal was still active; the thief stepped through the wall to find herself on the fourth floor of Hogwarts. She looked back at the mirror she had just come through to see the waves settle, giving the mirror its normal, seamless quality. Swiftly checking her appearance, she gave a satisfied smirk.


There was no reflection in the mirror.


Invisible, swift, deadly, she stalked through the corridor until she appeared at the entrance of the library. She paused for a moment, overwhelmed with memories, but she ruthlessly suppressed them.


No time for foolish hopes. Get the job done - that is the only thing that matters now.


While there was no one in the corridor to see the strange sight of a door opening itself, (or perhaps not so strange at Hogwarts) anyone could pass by at any moment. So, she quickly opened the door a smidgen and wriggled inside.


A feeling of comfort and familiarity assailed her as she moved through the aisles. Thousands of books sat still, lonely now that the students were taken from the halls. The library was hardly ever used now that Voldemort had taken residence. Sometimes His Eminence would request a book, and some toady would come here to fetch it, but otherwise the boundless knowledge of Hogwarts lay silent and still.


The thief quickly walked to the Household section in the back of the library, and scanned the shelves for a desired volume.


Ahhh, here it is, Unlocking the Most Complex Locks, Magical and Otherwise by Elgar Thomason. Voldemort’s books improving my thieving technique. Ah, irony.


Quickly looking around her, she took her wand out of her sleeve and performed a shrinking spell. Placing the tiny book in a secure pocket inside her shirt, she strode to the Ancient History section. Finding the book she wanted, she pocketed it in the same manner as the other.


Mission One: Accomplished. On to Mission Two.


Before she could get out the Marauder’s Map to see if the corridors were occupied, the sounds of two voices drifted through the quiet library. Stiffening, heart beating fast, she stood very still. Determining that the voices were near the Restricted Section, she stealthily crept closer and closer until she could make out their words.


“… told you, no one ever comes here anymore.” Said a strong, hissy voice.


“But what if…”


This whiny voice was ruthlessly interrupted by the first, “No what ifs! We have to talk now. Malfoy is gaining too much influence in society. It has to be stopped.”


The thief sat back on her heels, surprised that she would be overhearing such pertinent information. Well. This certainly makes my job easier, she thought wryly. That whiny voice could only belong to one person: Wormtail. A rise of fierce hatred rose within her breast, but her mind cruelly suppressed it, blocking all strong emotion, blocking all stray thoughts, lest the other prove to be a Legilimens.


The weak voice, Wormtail, spoke again. “Well then, Nott, this had better not be some petty schoolyard squabble. To accuse one of the High Lord’s most valuable vassals is not a trivial thing.”


That settles who the second is then. Satisfied, the thief sat back to listen and remember the rest of the conversation.


“It has already been set in motion you know that, you spineless fool. All you fear now is his vengeance.” The strong voice, a.k.a. Theodore Nott, spoke in a voice dripping with derision, “You want to get rid of him as much as I. You know that if he finds out you killed his father, he will rip you apart.”


The thief was stunned. Indeed? Well, that explains quite a lot.


“Please! Please, Lord Nott. I beg you not to tell him. I will do as you ask. I will tell his Dark Highness all you wish.”


“Very good Pettigrew. See that you do.”


With those words, the thief heard two sets of footsteps retreating in the direction of the library doors. Padding in their wake silently, she catalogued all that she had heard in the back of her mind for future thought.


I cannot get distracted now.


Exiting the library before the large doors slid totally shut from Nott and Wormtail. She watched them walk along the corridor to the stairwell. Seeing them go downstairs, she presumed they were going to the throne room (formerly the Great Hall) to fill Voldemort’s ears with poison against Malfoy.


For a brief moment, she felt a twinge of pity for him. However, she quickly reminded herself of all the things he had done to deserve this fate.


The ferret deserves it. Really. Still, it is a shame he doesn’t know the truth about his father…


Quickly shaking such thoughts from her mind, she went to the same staircase Pettigrew and Nott just descended, but instead went up to the fifth floor.


Passing an array of sorrowful paintings, she arrived at an innocuous looking room in a little used, dusty corridor.


After Voldemort’s ascension, all of the varied Ministry records were taken to Hogwarts for security reasons. Consequently, Voldemort himself could keep a stranglehold on information he considered private.


Unfortunately for him, his security wasn’t as foolproof as he boasted.


Fortunately for the thief, the wards on the Record Room were some that she had seen before. Recognizable by the small shimmer around the doorframe, the wards would painfully decapitate any who set foot inside without reciting the counterspell. Formerly illegal, borderline dark magic, but hardly unbreakable.


Ah, his cockiness always works to my advantage.


Taking out her wand, the thief patiently said the complex chant that would free the wards. Opening the door, she was careful to scan the room with a spell for additional wardings.


Lets see, a screaming spell on the floor and a basic locking spell on the file cabinets. Tsk, tsk, sloppy job. You would think that with a thief around they would have at least added some extra security. This is almost an insult.


With an invisible smirk, she looked upwards to the ceiling. Casting a quick spell, she nodded in satisfaction.


Unimaginative fools. Didn’t even think to ward the ceiling.


Taking out her rope, she cast a sticking spell on one end. Tucking her wand into her sleeve, she expertly swung the rope around in circles with one hand, holding onto the slack with the other. Then, rather like an American Cowboy, when the rope had gained enough momentum she let it fly.


It stuck to the ceiling. Perfect.


Using a shrinking spell to shorten the rope so that it would not touch the floor, she let it hang. Turning her attention to her hands, she uttered an interesting, obscure spell. From her hands, under her gloves, thousands of tiny, wickedly curved claws sprouted. She uttered the same spell on her forearms, feet, and shins.


Tucking her wand into her sleeve, she took a few deep, calming breaths.


Here goes nothing.


Taking extreme care not to touch the floor, she closed the door, while quickly mounting the rope. She then carefully climbed the rope until she reached the ceiling. Steadying herself, she reached out with the palm of her hand and touched the roof.


It stuck.


More confidently, she placed her other hand next to its mate, and with care, swung her legs towards the ceiling, until she was completely upside down.


Taking quiet steady breaths, she tried to orient herself.


All right. Records of Magical Objects – over on the right.


Carefully moving her limbs, she painstakingly made her way across the ceiling. Sweating profusely underneath the invisibility suit, her muscles started to tremble with the exertion.


Gods, Spiderman always made this look so easy.


Just as she was starting to feel dizzy from all the blood rushing to her head, she arrived at the file cabinets. All right, S… Where is S…


Finding the correct cabinet, she took her legs off the ceiling, and using her arm muscles to control their descent, managed to make very little noise when her feet touched the top of the cabinet. Stretching the sore muscle in her arms, she stood still while the blood rushed from her head to its proper places.


Taking out her wand, she murmured a quick “Finite Incantatem” on her arms and legs, and opened the file cabinet underneath her.


Opening the drawer while sitting on top, she pondered how strange it must look. Drawers opening themselves, files floating in midair, etc. Thank goodness there are no muggle recording devices here. That would make life interesting.


Finding the folder on the Magical Item she desired, she found it was distressingly slender. Opening it, she found only one sheet of parchment, with a brief entry. Scanning it, she had to bite down on her tongue to keep from swearing aloud. Tasting blood, she cursed her fate.


Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit!!! Damn it all to Hades, why did it have to be there? Why does it have to be him!?!


Taking great care to replace the folder and the locking charms, she prepared herself to make the journey across the ceiling once more and restore the wards on the room. Then she would portkey the hell out of here to think very hard about what she had learned tonight.


Why did the fates make her life their favourite plaything?


Item: Staff of the Priest
Description: White staff, 1.5 meters, intricate carving, snake tip
Use: Unknown
Age: Unknown (Suspected Ancient)
Maker: Unknown
General Comments: Unknown function, but believed to be highly dangerous. When in contact with certain individuals, green flame spouted from it. No permanent damage. Could not flame at will by handler. Only two people known to be able to handle it without detrimental effects.
Location: Malfoy Manor, Private Collection

000


The study at Malfoy Manor, like all things associated with the Malfoy name, reeked with elegance and class. Overall, the room gave the impression of age. Timelessness. Generations of Malfoys had ruled here, and many more generations would rule from this very room in the future.


The room was decorated with a firm masculine hand, without being overly elaborate. No heads of dead hippogriffs here. No, those were for guest houses and gaming rooms. The study was the refuge of the Head of the Malfoy Family. The Throne Room of an uncrowned king.


Intimidating. Imposing. Slytherin.


Dark wooden paneling gave the room a dark, gothic atmosphere, even though tall curved windows with long blood-coloured draped lined one wall. Another wall held a large fireplace with an ornately carved mantel depicted battles long forgotten, ancient wizards dueling for causes unknown. A large painting of a white-blond knight riding a huge black warhorse sneered down at the occupants of the room.


Lining the other wall were glass cases filled with an eclectic assortment of antiques, collected by various Malfoys over the generations. A large steel sword encrusted with emeralds hung prominently in one case, gleaming wickedly. Another case was packed with various wands, hundreds of them, of varying lengths and composition. Yet another was filled to the brim with a strange assortment of mismatched objects including: a bronze chalice, a small red pillbox, a porcelain shepherdess, and an odd pure-white staff about a meter and a half in length carved with intertwining oak leaves, with a carved tip depicting a snake biting its own tail. Other cases were heaving with statues, pendants, keys, crowns, and all other sorts of trinkets.


Not all the items had a known function. But they all were very, very magical.


Sitting at a desk in front of the cabinets, one Draco Malfoy was trying to make sense of some very old, very incomplete documents.


Frustrated with his lack of success in catching the thief, Draco had decided to do some research on the stolen object. The only information he had was from his brief interview with the King, and His Majesty had been surprisingly close-lipped. Or perhaps not so surprising considering the whispered accusations. All Draco had gotten out of Voldemort was the object’s name, the approximate time it had been in the vault, and the fact that it was extremely dangerous for the entire magical community. If His Majesty knew anything else, he wasn’t spilling. This aroused Draco’s avid curiosity, so naturally he decided do some private research. To get into the mind of a thief, you had to see what was worth stealing, right?


Right.


Let’s see, Goddess’s Orb… Goddess’s Orb… Gah! Why is this thing so damn obscure?


Unfortunately for Draco, his project was not going very well. In all of the texts in the extensive Malfoy library listing various magical objects, he could find only vague references to the orb, usually only to the fact that it existed at some time or place. Referred to by various names, he could barely decipher if the orbs these texts were talking about were one and the same. Orb of Demeter, Orb of Gaea, Orb of Isis, Orb of Freya, Orb of Persephone, Orb of Danu ... Stupid bloody Orb of Pain-in-my-Arse, that’s what it is!


Most of the names happened to be Greek, so he decided that books on Ancient Greek Artifacts would probably be a good place to start branching out. With stacks of books precariously perched around him on the desk, he absently flipped through the crumbling pages of one particularly ancient tome.


Sipping a strong cup of coffee to help him stay awake through this tedious work, his mind kept drifting to the woman he had accidentally found the previous night. Her red, red mouth, her haughty little nose, her heaving breasts glistening with sweat as she danced… Oh, yes, he was distracted. Thoughts of how her pale skin would look against the sheets of his bed frolicked through his head, so much so he almost missed a vague reference to the very thing he was looking for.


…Orb of Demeter, rumoured to be used in the Eleusinian Mysteries…


Draco nearly spit out his coffee he was so surprised. He had been researching for days, and had uncovered nothing except for the various names of the damned thing. All right! At least I have something more to work with than a bloody bunch of useless titles.


Rifling through the stacks of books on his desk for a moment, he found nothing satisfactory. So, he took one last sip of his coffee and stood up.


Gliding through the room to the door, he let himself out, and walked down the eerily lit corridor to the library. The library, along with the massive collection of Rare Magical Artifacts, was a source of Malfoy Pride. (Not that they were lacking things to be proud of, obviously) The number of books was rumoured to be in the thousands, and in all of Britain, only Hogwarts’s library was said to be more extensive. Huge shelves stretched to the heavens, with books ranging from the most modern paperbacks to the rarest of ancient Egyptian papyrus scrolls.


As Draco briskly stepped into the room, the fire in the hearth and the floating, heatless candles automatically lit themselves. Strolling to a large desk in the middle of the room, he flipped open the huge, dusty book lying there. Taking a quill and inkpot out of one of the drawers, he wrote quickly in his fluid, slanted hand.


Eleusinian Mysteries, explanation of. Objects connected to.


At once, the ink faded into the page, the book sucking it up greedily. A few moments passed, and then the tome’s pages shimmered. Words began to materialize on the page.


Eleusinian Mysteries: 3 Books Found


1.) Mysterious Mysteries by Algar Tuffle
2.) Rites of the Ancients by Nestor Sniffles
3.) Greek for the Average Wizard by Herbert Hedwink


Draco sneered a bit half-heartedly. Three books? Just three? Damn, I was hoping for more information than this. Sighing, he Accioed the three books from their respective shelves, and returned to his study to see if they were worth his time.


He indifferently placed two of the books on top of an already precarious tower of books, opening the third and largest – Hedwink’s Greek for the Average Wizard.


Flipping to the index, he found one mention of the Eleusinian Mysteries on page 562.


…The Eleusinian Mysteries were conducted in the city of Eleusis, near Athens. These were rites sacred to the Goddess Demeter, celebrated by both wizards and muggles.


Draco made a pinched face. “That’s it? Bah, what a waste of time. The next bloody book had better be more enlightening.” Skimming through Mysterious Mysteries he found a bit more information.


…The Cult of Demeter had a sacred festival once a year to bless the initiated, and to purify magic. As it also honoured Demeter’s daughter, Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, the ceremony was also intimately connected to the afterlife. Unfortunately, none of the members could speak of the actual events of the ceremony under penalty of death, so little else is known.


“Damn!” Draco ground out between clenched teeth, “Penalty of death? Great, that makes my job so much easier.” Turning to the last book, he hoped that he had not hit another dead end.


…Obviously, since no member could speak of the Eleusinian Mysteries, most of the rite is shrouded in secrecy. However, Pelias the One-Eyed, a citizen of Athens, became spectacularly drunk one night and detailed a rough outline of the Rite. (For further details, see the companion volume to this book – The Eleusinian Mysteries Revealed) Unfortunately, before he could tell of the rite’s conclusion, he was towed away by a few strange men and never seen again…


Draco was much more pleased by this information, but was quite annoyed that the author felt the need to put the information he needed in another volume. It just wasn’t convenient for him. Obviously, since the book did not show up on his original search, the Malfoy Library must not have it. How vexing. He would have to make a special trip to Hogwarts the next day to find it. Yet there was that tiny problem of a paranoid King housed in that same building…


As Draco leaned back in his chair to scheme a good way to infiltrate Hogwarts- letting Voldemort know he was there, but not giving away all of his motives- Blaise Zabini casually strolled through the door.


Draco almost fell out of his chair. Quickly sitting up straight, he tried not to look too surprised. However, it was hard to conceal. After Hogwarts and Gringotts, this was one of the most magically fortified buildings in the world. How the hell did Zabini get in here?


“Zabini! What a… pleasant surprise. I was expecting you around suppertime.”


“I was bored. Besides, annoying my mother isn’t nearly as entertaining as annoying you. And when your mother flooed to confirm my presence this evening, I asked her to unlock my fireplace.”


Ah. Well, that explains how Blaise got here, anyway. Draco suppressed a niggling remnant of suspicion. Blaise was one of the few that could be trusted, right?


Shaking his head briefly, he put on a smile and gestured for Blaise to sit in one of the comfortable chairs by the fire. “Please, sit. I’ll order us an afternoon tea and we can… play a game of chess.”


Draco stared into Blaise’s eyes for a long moment, and then flicked his eyes to the walls. You never know when the walls have ears. Blaise smirked roguishly and gave an irreverent salute. “Aye, aye, Captain. Haven’t played chess in years, not even sure if I remember the rules… We’ll have to talk them through.”


Satisfied that Blaise understood the delicacy of the situation, he walked to the door and pulled a little golden rope. Immediately, a house elf popped into view.


“Slippy, bring up a tea service for Lord Zabini and I. Be quick about it!”


Slippy barely squeaked a “Yes, Master,” before she disappeared from view.


Blaise looked on in appreciation. “I wish my house elves were so well trained. Mine always dally too much when given orders.”


Draco sank down in the large chair facing Blaise, relishing the feel of softness on his stiff neck. Reading too many books. Going to turn out like Granger. Hmmm… Not an entirely revolting thought. Images of Granger’s red lips and dark burning eyes invaded his thoughts once again. I wonder if her arse is as nice as it was in Hogwarts…


Draco was shaken from his thoughts by an insistent clearing of a throat. Blaise looked supremely amused, and Draco wondered how long he had been daydreaming.


Clearing his throat, he finally responded to Blaise, “Slippy was my father’s personal Elf for many years, and as such she was exquisitely trained. When he passed during the last battle, Slippy took it upon herself to be in my service.”


Noticing Draco’s pensive expression, Blaise gently reminded him, “You did capture McGonagall. She was supposedly his murderer. Justice, and all that.”


Turning to the fire, Draco stared into it intently, as if he could see all the answers to his problems. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I know. But somehow, I feel that he does not rest in peace. And I don’t know why.”


As Draco contemplated the flickering flames, Slippy appeared, breaking the strange tension. Almost bent over backwards from the weight of the large silver tray, she nevertheless placed it on the small table between the two men without spilling anything. “Will Master Draco be needing anything else?”


With Draco’s negative, the house elf popped out of sight, leaving the two men alone. As the host, Draco poured both cups performing the ritual with a practiced grace. Two sugars for him, a little milk for Blaise.


Meanwhile, chomping on a mango-filled biscuit, Blaise dragged the Wizard’s Chess set over from its usual resting place near the windows. “So,” Blaise said while setting up the board, “I see from the miserable state of your desk that you have been busy. Very busy. I have to ask; don’t you have anything better to do on a Sunday than work? Quidditch perhaps? Shopping?” He paused for a moment and then slyly smirked, “Helena Gardiner?”


Draco was so startled by this comment, he choked on his tea, and some spilled onto his immaculate robes. Giving Blaise a death glare, he quickly took his wand out of his sleeve and gave his robes a thorough Scourgify. “Now I will have to get these robes thoroughly scrubbed instead of the usual milder treatment.” Draco gave Blaise a quelling look when he started to snicker. Blaise put a hand over his mouth and politely started to cough. “Scourgify just isn’t good with certain types of fabric.”


Blaise smiled. “Must have hit a mark to get you to be so jumpy, eh mate? You did go see her after the show.”


Draco stalled for a moment by reaching for a chocolate covered biscuit. Chewing for a moment, he swallowed then haughtily replied, “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”


“Come now Draco, I’m a friend. What the duce happened back there?”


“Unfortunately nothing,” Draco placed a hand over his heart, affecting an injured manner. “She was not as charmed as I would have liked. Wounded me to the core, she did.”


“Did she now?”


“Quite. Fancy that game of chess?”


Blaise smiled knowingly. “I can take a hint. Very unsubtle of you though. Are you becoming a Gryffindor behind my back?”


“Good Gods no!”


“Then I’ll drop the subject.”


Draco looked at Blaise steadily for a moment, and offhandedly said, “White or Black?”


Blaise took a sip of tea, and pondered his words carefully. “White goes first. It gives you the advantage if you are very good at planning attacks. However, if you choose black, you can sit back and anticipate attacks, plot, strategize.


“The White King moves his pawns into place, not caring about the pieces he sacrifices along the way. Under the influence of a skilled manipulator, he will sacrifice the strongest pieces he has, never noticing how weak it makes him. When that happens, the Black can then strike.”


Draco looked at the chessboard grimly, not really seeing it, rather seeing the grim future that Blaise predicted for them. Who was the manipulator? Why? To gain power for themselves? Revenge against him? Against Voldemort? This situation is seriously driving me insane.


Looking up at Blaise, he found him staring at his face with a thoughtful expression in his dark eyes.


“So, Zabini, what will it be?”


“Black.”


000


A few days later, Draco found himself in the Hogwarts library. Walking grumpily to the index book, he pondered on the increasingly unstable mental condition of his liege lord.


Gods, he is so paranoid.


It took days of persuasion to convince Voldemort that going to the library was necessary for the investigation of the theft. If I wasn’t already convinced that The Dark King was planning to off me, I certainly am now. He’s being so petty it’s embarrassing.


Contemplating the irrational temperament of his beloved tyrant gave Draco a terrible headache, so he decided not to sort out His Majesty’s convoluted reasoning until later. Writing the title and the author of the desired book in the index, he waited impatiently for the damned thing to hurry up and show him where it was. Happily gaining a quick response, he soon headed down the little-used aisles in search of the Ancient History section.


When he got there, he immediately wrinkled his nose at the rank smell of mildew given off by the unkempt books. Guess the preserving spells need to be renewed. I’ll have to tell someone to take care of it; no one else seems to care these days…


Idly skimming the shelves with his eyes, he alighted upon the one where The Eleusinian Mysteries Revealed was supposed to be. He quickly scanned the titles, paused a moment, then looked more carefully.


The book wasn’t there.


There were only a few reasons why a book was not on its shelf in Hogwarts library. One: The book was checked out. Since the library had been in disuse for five years, and the index said it was on the shelf, this option was not likely.


Two: The book was in the sorting bin to be re-shelved magically. Not likely for the same reasons as number one.


Three: One of Voldemort’s minions, or Voldemort himself had the book. More probable, but still not very likely, since any books His Dark Majesty perused were all recorded and pondered thoroughly each week by his spies. (He was still a Slytherin after all, and spying was just one of those things that simply cannot be gotten out of one’s system.)


Four: The thief had struck again.


That meant the thief could get into Hogwarts.


That meant the thief had an intimate knowledge of the library.


That meant the thief was more dangerous than he had ever dreamed.


Paranoia suddenly started to sound like a good idea.


000



A/N: Phew, got this out before spring break. Thought I wouldn’t make it for awhile. This is the chapter that never ends! Actually, it was supposed to be twice as long. (The mind boggles) So, I cut it in half. Bad news, no D/Hr interaction. Good news, next chapter ALL D/Hr! So, a question to ponder – Are short chapters with frequent updates better, or long chapters in more time?
A/N2: The Eleusinian Mysteries were real, and there was a death penalty on those who revealed its secrets. So, this makes it ideal for writers like me to make up pertinent information! Hehehe…
A/N3: Thanks so much to all my wonderful reviews on FF.net, AFF.net & quietones.org! (Hey, anyone else know where else I can archive this thing?)