Damnation of Memory

Title: Damnation of Memory
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Suspense, romance, angst
Warnings: Character Death, Violence, Adult Situations
Summary: DH-EWE: With every generation, a Dark Wizard rises. Hermione Granger has survived one. However, after nearly thirteen years, a dead man returns to inform her that she must fight again, and this time, Harry Potter will not be the one to save the world from madness.
Author's Notes: This is my 1st full length SS/HG fic and my second 1st person POV fic. Please note that not every detail is canon, including the canon floor plan of Grimmauld Place.




Damnation of Memory - IV




Severus Snape had large hands, a feature I noticed in my sixth year when he was teaching my class how to cast silently in DADA. Severus had been a strict Potions professor, but a severe Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

I had noticed his hands many times in the years previous, but it was not until he grasped my hand one day to correct the motion of my wand movement that I became aware of the size of his hands. His hand had totally enveloped my own. Granted, that had been years ago, but the size of my hands had little changed.

His fingers were long and tapered, his palm wide and rough, his nails were short and shone when the light caught them just right. They were hands of a man who worked, who was strong, and for Severus Snape, a man whose innate magic would easily work through those hands without the aid of wand.

Horace Slughorn was not in the school, and it seemed as Severus wandlessly unlocked the front door to Aberforth Dumbledore’s shabby pub, Horace Slughorn was not drinking his usual pint of bitters there either.

Severus stepped inside the dark pub while I remained outside the door, hoping that no one would happen across us breaking and entering into the establishment.

“I would say that there hasn’t been anyone in for weeks, but the Hog’s Head was always dusty and dank,” Severus muttered.

“The upper rooms?” I asked from the door, daring to peek inside.

“It would stand to reason that if the door is locked and Aberforth is not here that the rooms were not let.”

I sighed as I watched Severus cast a revealing Charm for any human life. It was clear that there was none.

“I don’t suppose he went on vacation…” I trailed quietly.

The light outside was failing, and it seemed that Severus and I had come to a dead end.

I was nowhere nearer to learning anything about the Knights of Walpurgis, or learning where Severus Snape had been in the thirteen years since his supposed death.

The only somewhat fruitful moment of the day had been the retrieval of my Codex, and the news that the Knights may have once been called the Order of Merlin. It was something, but not as much as I would have liked to have learned.

Severus had reapplied his glamours as soon as we stepped out of the Head’s office. The Charm I had cast on the portraits would wear off before the sun set, and it would not do to have the other Headmasters and Headmistresses learn that Severus Snape was still alive. Phineas was the exception, however.

Relocking the door, a glamoured Severus turned to me, as if expecting that I would have a further course of action. I did not.

I was bordering on exhaustion. It had been a stressful day, in my mind. Ever since walking away from the MLE, my life had been fairly stress-free, and the work hours shorter.

However, losing my job, my work, making the dangerous decision to go on as a rogue Auror, it was beginning to drain me. I knew I was out of shape, but I had given myself more credit than to begin losing my edge before I had satisfied my curiosity for one day.

“Does Rosemerta still manage the Three Broomsticks?” Severus asked.

I perked up, following his line of thought. If Aberforth were gone, along with his limited clientele, Rosmerta would know.

The pub was almost empty by the time Severus and I, sat down in a booth close to the door.

“Might as well have dinner,” I muttered too low for Severus to hear as Rosmerta came to the table.

“Talking to the portraits again, Hermione?” Rosmerta said by way of greeting. She set down a pitcher of mulled mead between Severus and I, knowing that it was what I drank when I came into the pub.

“Something like that,” I answered.

“What can I get you two?” Rosmerta asked out of habit, her pretty face smiling.

I ordered the special, the corn beef and cabbage with boiled potatoes. Severus muttered he would like the same. Rosmerta gave pause at the sound of Severus’ voice, but said nothing.

“Oh, and Rosmerta?” I asked as she began to walk away with our orders. Rosmerta turned and smiled again. “I was wondering, have you seen Professor Slughorn lately?”

Rosmerta chuckled. “He goes to Old Abe’s, but you know, Old Abe closed the Hogs Head over a week ago…”

I glanced to Severus. “Do you know why?”

“Oh, sometimes Old Abe goes off, Dorset or Somerset, I think. But you know, some bloke was in here yesterday asking me the same thing?”

I bit my lip, “Strange. About Professor Slughorn too?”

Rosmerta nodded. “Never seen the bloke before in my life…” Her eyes moved to Severus who was starting pointedly at the pitcher of mead.

“Oh?” I said, hoping that Rosmerta would continue.

“He was a short fellow, balding. He had a funny accent and he had Ministry robes, I thought it was funny…seeing as I did not know him.”

Rosmerta shrugged and turned to move to the counter, apparently losing interest. I sighed and began pouring mead, passing a pint glass to Severus who did not seem to notice the drink.

We did not speak, and I realized Severus was probably concerned that Rosmerta had recognized his voice. I, on the other hand, was trying to understand Rosmerta’s words.

Aberforth Dumbledore closing his pub to go to Dorset or Somerset? It was strange. It was also strange that no one seemed to know where Horace Slughorn had gone. And it was disconcerting to hear that someone, a short balding man in Ministry robes had been asking about Aberforth and Horace the day before.

When Rosmerta brought our food, Severus began eating slowly while I started at my full plate.

Two men suddenly gone did not bode well to me. I linked Horace and Aberforth together though I knew that there was probably no connection. It had been Albus’ words that had formed the connection in my mind. I started eating, mechanically.

I wanted to voice my thoughts to Severus, but did not. Even if I cast a Muffliato Charm, I still would not feel safe. Someone in the Ministry or in Ministry robes had come asking my questions.

I wondered if my assumption about someone being a step ahead were correct.




I was exhausted, but still I sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld place with Harry next to me and Severus across the table. It was late, but still I needed to speak my thoughts aloud.

“Would it be stretch to think that maybe Slughorn might be part of the Knights of Walpurgis?” Harry said finally after I told him what little Severus and I learned.

Severus sighed, but I blinked slowly at Harry.

“It is possible, but we don’t have proof,” I said softly. I turned my heavy lidded eyes to Severus who leaned back in his chair.

Could have been Horace who retrieved Severus from the Shrieking Shack? I shook my head, remembering that Horace had stayed at Hogwarts to keep the students safely in their dormitories. I remembered that Horace had a time keeping the Slytherins in their House.

“What about Aberforth?” Harry then asked.

Again, I shook my head. “Rosmerta mentioned Somerset…Dorset…”

“I seem to recall that he would go off at times, to Somerset,” Severus added, speaking for the first time since the Three Broomsticks. “It was a trivial matter, but going to Somerset, I wonder…”

Severus met my eyes. Even with my mind begging for sleep, I saw something in his bottomless eyes. There was a spark of a thought, but it was quickly extinguished.

“Somerset could be a lead,” Harry suggested. “As for Slughorn…”

I moved my attention to Harry grudgingly; I wanted to look longer into Severus’ eyes for another spark.

“I could make some inquiries. It is odd that he would leave Hogwarts during term.”

It was odd.

“Tomorrow,” Severus said softly, starting to rise from the table. “I assume that I can still use Black’s room?”

Harry nodded. I knew that he would go to the Burrow, to his family. I also knew that I would have to make other arrangements in the morning. I added that thought to the top of the list of things to consider.

Severus left the kitchen, leaving Harry and I alone. We did not speak, and my eyes grew heavier and heavier.

“Off to bed with you,” Harry whispered near my ear and automatically I jerked to my feet, knocking the chair to the floor.

Harry’s eyes widened at my reaction and then he chuckled. He moved to pick up my chair and then took my hand. “Its still there,” he laughed as he led me toward the door.

“What is?” I mumbled.

“The instinct to fight. After six years, you haven’t lost it.”

The still conscious part of my mind wanted me to laugh, but I did not. I was too focused trying to walk up the stairs.

Harry put me to bed in his bed, pulling my boots off and dropping them next to the bed. He smiled down at me in the dark, only a streetlight outside the window casting any light into the room.

“I’ve started resetting the wards,” he said and I nodded dumbly. “Tomorrow night I should have it done. I have to go back to work day after tomorrow.” Again, I nodded, but eyes closing. “’night, ‘mione.”

I heard no more and was lost on the current of sleep that took me far away from Harry and Grimmauld Place.






I awoke screaming.

I did not remember dreaming, as I sat up in bed, sweat dampening my brow, my chest rising and falling as I gasped for breath. The old phantom pains in my womb lingered, but as I moved to grasp my middle, the bedroom door banged open. I screamed again at the abrupt sound and searched for my wand, which was not in its holster across my chest.

Heavy footfalls sounded and suddenly I was face to face with the wide, wild black eyes of Severus Snape. He held my upper arms in a bruising grip, the length of his wand pressing into the fleshy part of the back of my left arm.

His onyx eyes studied my face, then the rest of me as if to ascertain any injury. By the darkness and the quality of dim light coming in through the window to my right, I knew it was early morning.

“Miss Granger?”

I blinked at Severus.

“Wha-what are you doing?” I asked, confused.

“You were screaming, I thought…” he trailed, his voice angry, his eyes narrowing from fear to scrutiny.

I struggled out of Severus’ grip and grabbed my wand, which I realized, Harry had pulled from my holster to set on the bedside table. I slid the Vinewood back into its place and pulled my legs from under the light blanket Harry had placed over me. I moved to rise, but a large hand wrapping around my wrist pulled me down again.

“I’m fine,” I gritted out between my teeth, not looking at Severus.

“What did you dream?” he asked, his voice steady.

I did not answer, my toes cold against the floor. Severus was sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare feet near mine.

“What did you dream?” he asked, more insistent.

“I don’t remember,” I growled, turning my face to him.

He released my wrist, and in the dim morning light, I could see the spots of colour appear high on his pale cheeks. Severus rose without another word and walked from the room, and as he walked, I realized that his hair was tangled in the back, and that my screams must have roused him from sleep.

I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling suddenly guilty. He had forgone his wand to kick open the locked bedroom door. I stared at the broken latch and felt an empty sensation grow in my stomach. He had thought I was in danger.

I shook my head. It was a natural reaction. Woman in possible danger, locked door, illogical thoughts upon being roused so violently… I silently cast a repairing Charm on the latch, feeling guiltier that I had been sleeping in Harry and Ginny’s bed.

Glancing to the bedside table to the old Muggle alarm clock, I read that it was almost five in the morning. I was too rattled to sleep, and I rose to face another day.




“Slughorn has been missing from Hogwarts for two weeks,” Harry explained as Severus finished breakfast.

It was nine in the morning and I had been up for four hours. Harry had returned to Grimmauld Place from the Burrow. At the Burrow, he called Hogwarts.

“Neville has been covering his classes. He says that Slughorn left a note with a student during his last class two weeks ago, saying that he had to go away ‘on business.’ McGonagall has not alerted the authorities, and has not made a move to replace him.”

I was sitting at the far end of the kitchen table, my Codex open before, a cup of tea poised in my hand. Severus had arisen late; surely to replace his lost hours after the rude awakening I had given him. When he had entered the kitchen at eight, he did not speak to me, but he brooded as Kreacher began preparing breakfast. It as clear that Kreacher preferred Severus to me, I had to prepare my own breakfast.

“Neville Longbottom is teaching potions,” Severus stated, his lips curling into a snarl.

It seemed that no matter how much Severus had forgotten, he remembered Neville.

“He had a Masters level in Potions, but he teaches Herbology,” Harry said as if to answer a question Severus had not asked.

I smirked, I would never forget how much Neville had feared Severus, or the Boggart of Severus Neville had produced in Third Year.

“So, Aberforth and Horace are suddenly gone,” Harry mused to himself, leaning back in his chair across the table from Severus. “You appear here, suddenly alive, Hermione’s office is dissolved, a strange man appears just before you two, asking questions about two absent wizards, and overshadowing it all is the Knights of Walpurgis.”

I said nothing, in fact, I had said little since Harry returned to Grimmauld Place. Since coming down to the kitchen, I had been reading my notes in the Codex, trying in vain to piece some truth together. I kept rereading my notes regarding Abraxas Malfoy, thinking that I should somehow speak to the portrait again, but not knowing how I would be able to enter Malfoy Manor without my credentials as part of the DHR.

I flipped back to my interview with Arcturus Black. I knew I could easily slip back into the Lestrange House, it was sealed by the Ministry, but surely if I acted quickly, the wards would still recognize me and let me inside.

I rose from the table, shutting my book and tucking it under my arm. The Lestrange House was just in Lambeth, incidentally not far from the orphanage that had housed Tom Riddle as a child. I moved to the kitchen door, ready to leave when Severus’ voice stopped me.

“If you plan on acting upon some idea, Miss Granger, I would like to accompany you.”

I turned from the door, realizing that both Severus and Harry were regarding me with disdain.

“It would be better if you stayed, sir. Glamours aside, you could be recognized,” I said icily, turning back to the door.

The scrape of a chair stopped me again.

“I have as much to gain by discovering all I can about the Knights of Walpurgis, Miss Granger. I am just as astounded as you and Potter are over the fact that I am standing here, alive.”

His voice dripped with venom, and a part of me responded to that voice. It was so familiar, and despite the venom, so comforting. I turned back to the kitchen again, seeing Harry’s confusion, and ignoring it. Severus stood behind the table, dressed in the same strange clothing as when he arrived. Even his cloak was lying over the back of the chair next to him, and his hand moved to retrieve it.

“Where are you going, Hermione?” Harry asked, his eyes glittering with curiosity.

“The Lestranges.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

I sighed. “If I tell you, I involve you, Harry. Do you understand?”

Harry’s emerald eyes widened for a moment and then he nodded. “I don’t want to know.”

I breathed a sigh and tried to smile. Harry’s words were light, and it reminded me of the many times at school when we bent or broke the rules. To be honest, I wanted to tell Harry everything, but knew that if I did, he would lose his position in the MLE.

“Come along then, we’re Apparating,” I muttered to Severus.

Severus had already donned his cloak, pulling up the cowl.

“Breaking and entering, that is surely not all the laws you are going to break is it?” Severus asked when we stood in Grimmauld Square.

I said nothing, glancing to the overcast sky, feeling that it would begin raining at any moment. I had donned my old traveling cloak that still had old Curse burns and spatters of blood engrained in the worn black leather.

Feeling safe enough to Apparate without Muggle notice, I reached out a hand to Severus who blinked at it and then at my face.

“I remember where the Lestranges lived, Miss Granger,” Severus breathed.

I could see his hands twitching under his cloak, and I wondered if he were truly upset with me for my reaction to him entering the bedroom earlier in the morning. I shrugged, and in a flash and soft crack, I stood on the curb of a dark street just at the gate to an overgrown lot.

To Muggles, the lot was empty, but when one squeezed through the broken gate, a large house rose into view. The Lestrange House was not in the least bit welcoming, and I had always wondered what it had looked like when the Lestranges did live inside. The exterior was wooden, but years of neglect had made the paint peel off the front of the two-story house making the wooden façade a dull grey. The large casement windows were either cracked or broken out completely, and the small lawn was overgrown with weeds and littered with leaves.

I moved up the short walk to the front door, pausing just on the stoop as Severus moved to stand behind me. A faded printed notice adorned what had once been an elegant walnut door with a bronze knocker.

‘Warning,’ it read, ‘this property is under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic. Trespassers will be prosecuted. Entry must be approved by the Department of Intelligence.’

I scowled at the notice and drew my wand. I could feel Severus watching me as I wove my wand over the door in an intricate pattern, dismantling the wards I could feel through my magic protecting the door. When the door popped over, the wood having swollen and shrunk through the years creaking mournfully, I swept inside.

Severus did not falter in following me up a rickety staircase into the bedrooms on the second floor. At its height, I was certain that the Lestrange House was an example of Urban Pure-blood décor, but again, years of neglect had ruined the walnut paneled walls, turned the parquet flooring black, and the broken windows had let the elements inside. The Lestrange House reeked of rot and death, and I wondered how many Muggles had been tortured inside the house.

I walked quickly into the master bedroom, my eyes seeing that since my last visit the great four-poster bed had finally collapsed, the wood rotten, the hangings in disgusting green tatters. Upon the moldy panel wall, across from the cracked windows, was a small gilt frame and a confused face staring back at me.

“Miss Granger?”

Severus stood near the door, and I wonder why he had not followed me into the room. It seemed that Severus shadowed my every step until then.

Arcturus Black, son of Phineas Nigellus and Ursula Flint, husband of Lysandra Yaxley, father three daughters, one disowned, was an older man, but it was clear that if Sirius Black the younger had lived into old age, he would resemble his uncle. In the portrait, Arcturus was dressed in regal black robes, his long silver hair combed neatly to fall over his left shoulder. His fathomless grey eyes were staring back at me, in shock.

“I apologize for the abrupt entrance, Mr. Black, and I apologize for this…”

I moved to the portrait and grasping the frame heard Arcturus gasp as I pulled his portrait down from the wall. Luckily, there had been no sticking Charms or any enchantments on the frame and soon, Arcturus was tucked under my arm, his painted face and hands pressed against the side of the frame as if to keep from falling out.

“Blasted woman, where are you taking me?” Arcturus protested.

“I’ll explain later, Mr. Black, now do keep quiet,” I snarled as I stalked past an incredulous Severus.

“What are you doing, Miss Granger?” Severus hissed as I glided down the stairs to the front door.

I paused before the front door, knowing that as soon as I passed with the portrait, the Ministry would be notified. The wards alerting the Ministry of theft could not be dismantle as easily as the other wards protecting the door.

“I am condemning myself to imprisonment,” I whispered.

I knew I should not hesitate, but I did. So far, the only crimes I had committed were concealing and extorting so-called sensitive information from my now dissolved department, and entering a Ministry seized property without proper authorization. That alone would cost me possibly five years in Azkaban, but removing Ministry property—twenty years.

Arcturus Black had been one to mention the Knights of Walpurgis, and I had to admit that I was surprised that the portrait was still in the Lestrange House. Perhaps I was catching up to whomever was a step ahead of me.

I stepped through the open door, and immediately began to run. I did not bother to see if Severus was behind me, but when I leapt through the broken gate, I head his boot falls behind me.

“Grimmauld Place,” I growled, and I Apparated, Severus right behind me.




Severus was still on my heels as moved down the narrow corridor to the kitchen, but as I approached the stairs down, I stopped abruptly. Severus fell against me and made a noise to speak. I hissed for silence, as there was a rattle in the kitchen and the scrapping of wood against the stone floor.

I drew my wand and finally glanced back to Severus. Severus nodded, producing his wand as well.

The sounds were clear; it was the sound of a struggle.

As I stepped into the kitchen, I ducked as a Stunner whizzed over my head. Arcturus Black made a strangled, frightened noise in his frame, and I growled. Severus slipped past me to press himself against the wall next to the door.

Standing at one end of the kitchen was Harry, his face contorted maliciously, and kneeling behind an overturned kitchen table at the other end was a figure that I had not seen in over a decade.

Harry moved to cast another spell, a Blasting Hex, at the kitchen table. I prepared myself to move, but Severus moved first. A Shield Charm deflected the Hex and I grimaced as the sideboard next to me split in half sending dishes crashing to the floor.

The kitchen reeked of magic and the walls were blackened by Hex and Curse burns. I blinked at Harry whose face was still twisted, his eyes glowing as he snarled at Severus.

“Enough!” Severus bellowed, his wand trained on Harry.

“Move, Snape, don’t you know we’re under attack!”

I frowned, and then remembering myself, moved to the kitchen table.

“Like hell we are, Potter!” the figure bellowed, his voice deep and raspy.

Gregory Goyle had been a big boy, and as a man, he was still big. As I stared down at him, he not noticing how near I was, I saw that instead of looking like some half-troll, he had grown into a normal looking man. The hair that grew down his forehead, a prominent feature I remembered from school, was receding into a normal hairline of bristly, dark hair. The dull, small eyes I remembered were sharper and larger as an adult, the shade of chestnuts, brown and luminous. He wore a Muggle suit, neatly tailored in dark blue flannel. Besides the vague resemblance to the boy I remembered and the long dark wood wand in his large hand, I would have believed that a strange Muggle was kneeling behind the overturned kitchen table, taking cover.

“Hello, Goyle,” I said, breaking the tense silence. “If you won’t mind putting away your wand—and Harry putting away his, I’ll have Kreacher make some tea.”

Gregory Goyle turned on me, eyes wide. However, as he studied me, his wand lowered and he stood on his feet. Goyle towered over me, as he always had, but as I looked up at him, I wondered how he had somehow managed to grow out his trollish Goyle genetic appearance.

“Damnit, Hermione, he…” Harry started, his shouting voice hurting my ears in the small room.

I turned to Harry and frowned. Severus sighed, glancing between Harry and Goyle, and surreptitiously disarmed Harry, catching the holly and phoenix feather between his long fingers. Harry growled, but seeing that Severus and I were in no state of alarm, moved to the fireplace and leaned back into the mantle.

Goyle blinked at Severus and I as we began reassembling the kitchen, but Goyle’s eyes stayed on Severus, his mouth opening and shutting like a gasping fish. When the table, chairs, and sideboard were repaired and the scorch marks Vanished from the walls, Severus called for Kreacher.

I motioned Goyle to sit, which he did, stiffly. I sighed, glancing to Harry who stood resolutely by the fire, his arms crossed tightly before his chest. Severus eventually passed Harry his wand, a cold expression on his face.

“Miss Granger, would you please set me upright?”

I jumped at the sound of Arcturus Black’s voice and then remembering that I was still holding his small portrait under my arm, set the portrait upright in the chair next to me, one that Harry would not sit in.

I wanted to laugh at the lost expression on Goyle’s face as he moved his eyes from me to the portrait and then to Severus. I was just as confused as to why Gregory Goyle, of all people, was in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. When Kreacher Levitated a fresh pot of tea and Conjured cups for all, I began.

“You look well, Goyle.”

Goyle’s attention fixed upon me and he nodded slowly.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry shifted, but said nothing. Goyle surveyed the room again and then set his eyes upon his tea.

“I don’t know where I am.”

I cocked my head. “Grimmauld Place, Harry’s house in London.”

Goyle’s thick brow knitted. “London?”

I nodded. “How did you get here?”

“He got through the wards, the klaxons went off while I was in the sitting room upstairs…and this bastard was standing in the kitchen…” Harry gushed.

I shot Harry a cold look and Harry folded in on himself again, silent.

“Portkey,” Goyle whispered, moving his hand to his trouser pocket and pulling out a candy bar, placing it to his untouched tea. “I was standing on the platform, waiting for the train to work. I was late, but the platform was still crowed,” Goyle continued, his eyes moving from his tea to the crumpled candy bar. “I was standing near the edge, just behind the line. Some old woman, some barmy old bat in a nasty grey shawl, pushed the candy bar in my hand and winked. Then she pushed me again. She was a strong old bat, and I stared to fall in front of the train when the Portkey activated.

And then I was in Potter’s kitchen, and he was throwing hexes at me.”

I saw Severus frown. Harry scoffed, and oddly, the portrait to my right, began laughing.

“She had to be a witch, but I never saw her before,” Goyle said quickly, raising his chestnut coloured eyes to me. “And now I’m here, in Potter’s house, and Professor Snape is alive…”

Arcturus Black continued laughing, a wheezy laugh that was beginning to grate on my nerves.

“Is this some nightmare?” Goyle asked, his raspy voice a grumble.

“I wish it were, Mr. Goyle, alas, you are quite awake, and we are just as surprised to see you,” Severus said in a silky tone that I remember he reserved for those in his House at Hogwarts.

Goyle stiffened at the sound of Severus’ voice, and I could understand why. Severus, however, did not seem very surprised at all, and lifted his black tea and drank.

Sitting across the table from Goyle and Severus with the portrait of Sirius’ grandfather made me wonder if I were having the nightmare.

“To be honest, sir,” Goyle said to Severus, turning his chair to regard his old Head of House, “Some of us suspected that maybe…” he trailed. “There was never a body.”

Severus set his tea down slowly. I lowered my eyes to the tabletop.

“Can you start from the beginning, Goyle…”

“Call me Greg, Granger. I hate when…” he trailed again, folding his paw like hands on the table. “It makes me think of school, and I hated school.”

I nodded. “Can you tell us where you were? Or more about the witch who gave you the Portkey?”

Greg sighed and pursed his lips for a moment before beginning.

“I live in Glasgow, I work in Glasgow. I was at St. George’s Cross metro station, I was running late to work…”

“And what do you do?” I asked.

Greg’s fingers moved to his cooling tea. “I work for a private firm, working on patents for new household products. Magic appliances, incorporating Muggle design and function… I was standing near the edge and this barmy old bat bumps into me. I thought for second that she was going to fall, and I caught her. I think she thanked me, and then grabbed my hand and pushed the candy into my palm. She winked at me, and pushed.

Like I said, she had on some nasty grey shawl. She looked ancient, her face wrinkled, but I remember that when she winked, she had pale blue eyes. Tatty clothes, a net bag with more candy bars, and some sort of manky fedora over long grey hair. That’s all I know. I just only saw her for half a minute. It all happened so fast. Then I was here,” Greg finished, looking around the kitchen.

Silence fell over the kitchen, Arcturus’ laughter fading.

“A string of strange events, all leading us here, to Grimmauld Place,” Severus muttered over the rim of his tea. I watched as he sipped the last of his tea, his black eyes glittering, focused not on me, but past me. “A Portkey that sends Mr. Goyle here, through the wards of the house.”

“He was sent here,” I whispered, moving my eyes to Arcturus who was gazing back at me out of the corner of the frame.

“It’s not like I want to be sitting in Potter’s kitchen,” Greg started, but trailed noticing Harry stiffen.

“Why was he sent here?” Harry growled. “Don’t tell me the Knights of Walpurgis sent him as well.”

Severus reacted to Harry’s words by hissing, I had clenched my teeth.

“The Knights of what?” Greg asked, his body language telling me that he was suddenly upset. “What the hell is going on here?”

Severus relaxed and rose from his chair, moving about the table to stand behind me, now face to face with Greg. “A mystery, it seems, one that you have been brought into, against your will.”

Greg grimaced, “A mystery is right. I don’t know what the hell Potter is talking about, and I cannot imagine how or why you’re standing in Potter’s house, Professor.”

Severus’ hand rested on the back of my chair and I lowered my gaze to the table again. Slowly, Severus began explaining the situation, his coming to Grimmauld Place, the message he had from the Knights of Walpurgis, and the reason why the portrait of Arcturus Black was resting in the seat next to me.

“I am assuming that you were sent as well, to be part of what is to come.”

Greg digested the information Severus provided, his face steadily growing paler as Severus continued. At one point, Greg looked green, but slowly his face began to flush with healthy colour.

When Severus finished, I watched as Greg’s eyes moved from me to the others in the room. His face was stony, his eyes flashing.

“You all honestly believe that another Dark Wizard is on the rise?”

None of us spoke.

“Someone could be having you on, you know that, don’t you?”

“It really is not a laughing matter, Goyle,” Harry spat.

Greg shrugged, “I’m just saying… Don’t get me wrong, if there’s going to be another War—I’m not going to stand by like I did when we were kids.”

I wondered then, where did Gregory Goyle’s allegiances lie. For that matter, where did mine?

“I just want to know who the old bat was who sent me here, give her a piece of my mind. I’m missing a day of work because of her.”

I had begun to tune out as the men continued talking. I listened distantly as Severus and Harry began arranging for Greg to use the Floo, hopefully unnoticed. I sat at the kitchen table, hearing Greg’s words that he would not mention Grimmauld Place, and Harry’s insistence that Greg take a Vow not to mention seeing Severus. There was a promise made to Greg that if we learned anything new about why he had been sent to Grimmauld Place, we would contact him.

“So, it has begun?”

I shook myself out of my thoughts at the sound of Arcturus Black’s voice. I turned to the portrait as Greg Flooed away.

“You have some explaining to do,” I growled.

Arcturus was affronted by my tone, and opened his mouth to scold me.

“Aberforth and Horace are missing, and if they were members of your little secret society, you have become our only source of information.”

Arcturus frowned. “Why do you think I would be part of the Knights of Walpurgis?”

“Weren’t you?”

Arcturus’ frown turned into a smirk. “It would be interesting to know of your ancestors, Miss Granger.”

I turned my attention away again as Harry and Severus began talking next to the fire. Severus was explaining where he and I had been and why the portrait of Sirius’ great-great uncle was in the house.

TBC...