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Author: Beverly Story: Harry Potter and the Curse of Grindelwald Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 3 Words: 10,066
“It’s late, Hermione, let’s go to bed,” said Ron as he closed the book he was skimming for defense spells with a dull and dusty thud. Harry nodded in agreement, his body aching with fatigue. He sighed and looked at his watch; midnight had come and gone and the library had emptied out hours before. The only reason they still remained was that Hermione had asked and received special permission from Madam Pince before closing. “Do you want to bring it back to the common room?” Hermione asked him quietly, and Harry shook his head as he shut the book. He handed it to her, and she got up from the table to place it back on the shelf in the Restricted Section. Once the news of Voldemort’s return and the rumors of a coming war had slowly entered into the consciousness of Harry’s classmates, they had been coming to him with different spells they had heard of or read somewhere. The three of them had been spending time in the library trying to separate the real spells that might be useful from the ones that were plain foolishness. Harry pushed in his chair and followed Ron and Hermione as they walked out of the library. Pausing behind them, he raked a hand through his unruly black hair. He pulled a folded piece of parchment from the back pocket of his jeans and unfolded it. Harry murmured the incantation quietly, watching the parchment closely to see if any of the teachers or Filch was out or about. They had no desire to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, even with permission to be out. He folded and put it into one pocket and pulled his Invisibility Cloak from the other. “Right, it looks as if we’ll have to be careful when we reach our hallway. Filch and Mrs. Norris are on the sixth floor,” he said as he shook out the cloak. Ron and Hermione crowded close around him, and Ron bent over so his feet wouldn’t show. He wrapped the cloak around them, and they walked silently up the stairs; the only sounds were the soft swoosh of the long cloak and an occasional stifled yawn from one of them. They reached the seventh floor landing and stopped, blinded by a strange, piercing light coming from around the hall corner. It waxed and waned and threw out a magnificent arc of green light that illuminated the stone walls and seemed to stun the portraits. There was a loud thump and the light disappeared. Immediately an odd sound wafted towards them. “Do you hear that?” Hermione asked her body tensing as she turned towards Ron and Harry. “What? Is it crying, you mean?” Ron looked down at her. “It’s probably Moaning Myrtle.” “No,” Hermione whispered as she peered out of the cloak into the gathering gloom of the hallway. “I’ve never seen Myrtle anywhere near our floor; besides, it doesn’t sound like her. I think it may have something do with the odd light we just saw.” The noise from the other end of the hall increased in volume and the three of them pulled out their wands. “What do you think it is?” Harry asked, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. He took the lead as they walked towards to the sound. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine anyone using a deserted hallway as a place to have a good cry; besides, whoever it is, they sound as if they’re in pain. Oh!” she said breathlessly. “Look at all the portraits! None of them are moving at all! They all seem to be paralyzed in their frames, just like Muggle paintings.” Hermione was right. All the portraits were immobilized and looking towards the hallway as the massive arc of light must have awoken them, but every single expression was one of surprise and fear. The few lit torches flickered in their brackets, the flames illuminating the stone walls briefly as they passed. Light was scarce through here, as everyone else in the castle was abed for the night. They walked towards the darkened corner of the hallway and peered into the gloom and saw a hunched figure lying beneath a large empty portrait. “Lumos,” Harry whispered, bringing his wand hand out of the cloak. He looked at the painting curiously. The light was not reflecting off the canvas, but in fact looked as if it were being absorbed by the blackness. But then his attention was taken over by what was under the portrait. Lying before them sprawled face down on the cold marble floor was a girl, her tattered and shredded robes spreading around her like broken bats wings. She turned her face towards the floor and rested her cheek on the cold stone. She tried to pull her arms and legs under her, as close to her body as possible, but was not able to accomplish it without moaning in pain. “Blimey,” Ron exclaimed as they pulled off the Invisibility cloak and rushed towards her, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do. “I’ll run for Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said, her voice shaking as she noticed deep gashes on the girl’s legs. “Good idea,” said Harry as he kneeled down next to the girl. “Ron, go get Professor McGonagall.” Ron nodded. Both he and Hermione ran back down the hallway, their footsteps gradually disappearing as they headed in separate directions. Harry watched helplessly as the girl’s breath hitched with silent sobs. She tried to push herself up on her hands, her forehead still on the floor. “Hey,” Harry said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you should wait for Madam Pom…” The girl flinched at his touch and whipped into a sitting position. Her long dirty hair hung in her face, obscuring it from view. She crab walked backwards until she hit the corner of the hallway, scrambling away from him. She pulled her legs close to her chest, her knees scraped and raw. She was shaking her head as if to ward him away. “I’m sorry,” whispered Harry, inching closer as the girl wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing her forehead down to rest on her scraped kneecaps. She was unbelievably filthy and bleeding from various cuts and scrapes all along her arms and legs. Harry winced as he noticed her bare feet; one of her heels was swollen and oozing a foul-looking yellow liquid. Harry wasn’t sure, but it looked infected. “I’m here to help you, I won’t hurt you.” The light from the full moon shone through the leaded mullioned windows behind her and turned the girl’s pale hair an odd silvery color. Harry was struck by an urge to place his hand on the top of her bowed head, wanting to take all her pain away. “Who did this to you?” he whispered. Harry wished the idea of one of his fellow students, a girl no less, being viciously attacked at Hogwarts was unheard of, but he knew it had happened many times in the past. The girl raised her head slowly as she took a ragged breath. She brought her hands up and pushed her palms against her eyes, exposing her broken and dirt-encrusted fingernails. Her shaking hands continued upwards into her hair, her body wincing slightly as they caught on tangles, exposing her face more clearly. Harry fought the urge to cringe again at the sight of her swollen and scraped cheek. The skin under her eyes was bruised black with a sickening purple green tinge. “Can you tell me what your name is?” Harry asked softly as he brought the light from his wand closer to her. “What House do you belong to?” There was something about her that seemed familiar, but he wasn’t able to place where or when he had seen her before. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up towards him. She looked confused, her brow furrowing in bewilderment and despair. “Henry?” she whispered in a raspy and raw voice. She closed her eyes tightly against the sudden brightness from his wand. But any thoughts of the mysterious Henry were lost as she gasped in sudden pain, her spine straightening as she tightly squeezed her eyes closed. She grabbed behind her at the stone walls, trying desperately for purchase, but failing. An anguished moan escaped her lips and her head fell forward onto her knees. The sound of the rushing feet on the stone floor reached them, and Harry looked away from her as she brought her arms up to cover her head with them. She whimpered pitifully as she tried to ward off whatever silent demons were plaguing her. Ron and Professor McGonagall came running towards them, Professor McGonagall’s tartan slippers flapping against the cold stone. “Potter, what is it? What has happened?” Professor McGonagall said before she noticed the girl. Ron stood behind her, his freckled face twisted with worry. Harry noticed he kept tapping his wand against his robe, still on alert. “Oh my dear Lord,” Professor McGonagall whispered as she rushed over to the girl’s side. She kneeled down in front of her and asked, “Who is she?” “We don’t know, Professor,” Harry said as he moved closer to the girl, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. As his hand touched her robe, Harry felt the world shift, and he was plunged into absolute silent darkness. The blackness felt oily and claustrophobic. It was hard to breathe. With a start, he realized his wand was gone. He put his arms out in front of him, not sure if there was anything or anyone there. He felt off balanced, like he could fall to the floor at any moment. He kneeled down to touch and reassure himself there actually was a ground below him. His fingers drifted over a gravelly surface next to his trainers, and he brought it up to his nose. It was dirt. He brushed his hand off and slowly stood back up. From somewhere to his left came the faint sound of breathing, and a laugh echoed quietly in the darkness, causing a tingle of fear to race down his spine. In the darkness, he heard something or someone whisper his name, and then he slammed back into himself, kneeling in the hallway. The hand holding his wand smashed to the floor as he fought to keep himself from falling over. The spell Professor McGonagall spoke to light the flames in the sconces seemed to come from a great distance. Harry watched her mouth move, trying to make sense of what had just happened. His scar prickled with a sharp pain as he grabbed the girl’s hand, and he fought the urge to pull away from her at the same time the girl winced and started to pull away from him. Instead of letting go, he squeezed her hand gently, and she relaxed her grip as if she had no more strength to fight. Harry felt sorry instantly as he noticed how badly her hands were scraped and cut. He rubbed at his scar with the back of the hand holding his wand. He cleared his throat when his first attempt to speak failed. “I haven’t been able to get her to speak to me and I don’t recognize her,” Harry said. “Where is Miss Granger?” “She went to fetch Madam Pomfrey.” As if the sound of her name summoned her, Madam Pomfrey appeared next to Professor McGonagall, her skirts billowing around her as she kneeled down next to Harry. She exclaimed in horror at the girl’s condition and pulled out her wand. “Minerva, we need to get her back to the hospital wing. I can’t treat her here in the hallway.” “Who could have done this?” Professor McGonagall asked no one in particular, her pinched face ashen. “We don’t know, Professor,” Hermione said, grasping Ron’s arm. “We were going back to the common room when we heard her crying.” The girl suddenly slumped over onto her side and fainted, her hair sliding away from her pale face with a hand still firmly held in Harry’s grasp. “Weasley, go notify the Headmaster, tell him to meet us in the hospital wing. The password for his office is snockering snickerbees!” McGonagall called after him, but Ron had already started running down the corridor. The deputy headmistress squared her shoulders as she stood up and pushed her glasses up on her nose, looking down at the wounded girl. Harry let go of the girl’s hand as Professor McGonagall flicked her wand at the unconscious young woman. She rose off of the floor and hovered prone in the air, her robes brushing the stone floor. “Come on, Poppy.” The five of them made their way slowly down four floors to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey ran ahead as they neared the open double doors. She pulled down the sheets of the farthest bed in the room, the one Harry had spent many nights in since coming to Hogwarts years before. Professor McGonagall motioned her wand towards the bed and the girl fell gently onto the clean sheets, still in a faint. “I almost don’t know where to begin,” Madam Pomfrey murmured as she started to examine the girl. She gently pulled the shredded robes from her and then stopped. “Minerva, look at this.” Professor McGonagall came up beside the bed, and Madam Pomfrey pointed towards the breast of the robe. Professor McGonagall started in surprise at the sight of the Gryffindor crest on the girl’s garment. “I’ve never seen her before, and I know all of the students in my classes!” Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried glance, and Hermione inched closer to Harry and curled her hand around his upper arm. This was getting odder and odder. Who was this girl? Behind them the hospital doors swung open and Professor Dumbledore glided through, clutching his walking staff and wearing a scarlet robe over his pajamas. His staff thudded against the floor as he strode towards the bed. Ron followed closely behind him. “Professor McGonagall, what has happened? Only by pure luck was I able to meet young Weasley in front of my office before he awoke the entire school. He said a student has been attacked?” “It’s true, Professor Dumbledore, another student has been attacked,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice shaking. “Violently attacked.” She turned back towards the bed as Madame Pomfrey invoked a spell to change the girl’s dirty, ripped robes and filthy uniform instantly into a clean white shift. Madame Pomfrey waved her wand towards the shelf under the bedside cabinet and her discarded clothes settled there, neatly folded. She then walked to her office, returning a moment later with a large vial of a smoking purple liquid. “Who is she?” Dumbledore asked as he approached the bed. “I don’t know, Albus, she’s wearing a Gryffindor crest, but I don’t recognize her. Do you think she could belong to another House and is only wearing –“ She tore her gaze away from the girl to look at Professor Dumbledore who had stopped a foot from the girl’s bed. “Albus?” she asked, stricken by the expression on his face. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t recognize her, would you?” His voice was soft as he gazed down at the girl. “She was after your time.” Madam Pomfrey had moved to the girl’s head, almost complete with the cleaning of the girl’s wounds and removing the dirt and filth that covered her. “Oh my, oh no,” she exclaimed, causing all eyes to swing to her as the blood drained from her face. The hand holding her wand started to shake as the other came up to cover her mouth, masking her look of horror. The three students standing behind the teachers stiffened, and Hermione grasped Ron’s and Harry’s arms in fear as they moved closer towards the bed. Professor McGonagall steadied Madam Pomfrey’s wand arm. “Poppy? What is it? What’s the matter?” Madam Pomfrey shook her head and started to mutter different spells and potions under her breath. She looked up with a stricken expression on her face. “I’ll have to check my books but I don’t know if we have a potion on hand powerful enough to heal her, Professor Dumbledore, her tongue is missing! We’ll have to transfer her to St. Mungo’s.” Professor McGonagall’s face turned even whiter as she gasped. “But, but she spoke to me!” Harry exclaimed, and the two teachers and nurse turned to him in surprise. “Potter, I thought you said she had not spoken,” McGonagall said with reproach. “And then what happened, Harry?” Dumbledore asked quietly. Harry looked at the three adults and then back towards the girl. “When I asked her what House she was in, she looked up at me and said the name Henry. Then she gasped, like she was in terrible pain and a moment later when Professor McGonagall arrived, she fainted.” Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he stroked his long white beard and after a moment spoke. “I haven’t seen a curse this powerful in over fifty years.” McGonagall brought her hand up to her throat. “A curse removed this poor girl’s tongue?” “Oh yes, Professor McGonagall.” Dumbledore said as he summoned a chair close to the bed. He sat down heavily, as if carrying a terrible burden. He looked at the sleeping girl, his face betraying no emotion. “The moment she spoke her first word, the curse went in effect.” He clutched his staff tightly with both hands. “Someone went through a lot of trouble to keep this young lady silent.” He looked out towards the windows, deep in thought. “Madam Pomfrey, it is imperative that she stays here, where we can protect her. I have complete trust in you. I know you will do everything in your power to cure her of her wounds.” He turned towards Madam Pomfrey, but his face wavered for a moment and even he seemed shaken. “If you can not, I may be able to assist you.” “Do you know her, Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall asked. “Yes, Professor McGonagall,” he said as he shifted in his seat towards the three teenagers standing behind him. Professor McGonagall tsked at the sight of the three students standing near the doorway of the infirmary. “You three, back to Gryffindor Tower immediately, and what the three of you were doing roaming the halls at this hour, I do not care to know.” McGonagall said sharply as she closed her eyes, then she sighed and softened her voice. “Potter, Weasley, Granger? Please keep this to yourselves until we have discovered who did this to her.” The three of them nodded as they started walking slowly towards the doors, not wanting to miss the conversation as Professor McGonagall turned back to Dumbledore. “Albus? Who is she?” Dumbledore waited until Madam Pomfrey had walked briskly back into her office before answering. “She was a student here, Minerva; her name is Adria Thornwood.” “Adria Thornwood? Alazar Thornwood’s daughter?” asked Professor McGonagall thoughtfully. “I thought she was murdered along with the rest of her family by Grindelwald.” She stopped speaking and looked off towards the high windows. “I remember hearing stories about a student who went missing while attending Hogwarts; however, I always felt it was a rumor. I never dreamed it was Adria Thornwood. Albus, are you sure it’s her? The girl lying before us still looks sixteen. Adria Thornwood has been missing for almost…” “Oh yes, Minerva,” Dumbledore interrupted. “It wasn’t a rumor. Grindelwald always said he had nothing to do with her disappearance and the murder of her family, but I never believed him. It’s a mystery, yes? Where has she been all this time, I wonder?” “Well,” Professor McGonagall said as she and Dumbledore’s shadows moved against the curtain. “She hasn’t used a time turner. We have all three of them we are authorized to use under lock and key here within Hogwarts. I only know this because I checked when Miss Granger turned the one she was using back into me two years ago.” Professor McGonagall summoned a chair for herself next to Dumbledore, and she sank into it gratefully, her hands grasping the arms. Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped just outside the hospital doors, their faces registering “A student suddenly returns after being missing for years?” Ron asked, a bit louder than he meant to. Hermione shushed him as the wooden doors swung silently shut behind him. Harry stood back, looking at the double doors in silence, trying to make sense in his head everything that had happened in the past hour. “How come we never heard of her before?” Ron asked as Hermione pulled on both of their shirts to get them moving towards the common room. “I don’t know, even Professor McGonagall said she thought it was a rumor,” Hermione whispered as they walked up the stairs towards their tower. “I can’t imagine what the headmaster must have done to keep her disappearance from the Daily Prophet and from the history of Grindelwald.” ”Who cursed her?” Harry said as he stopped outside of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. He said the password, and the Fat Lady snorted as she woke up to let them in. Hermione shuddered as she walked through the hole behind the portrait. “She must be somewhere in the history of this school,” Hermione said as she fell into one of the cushy armchairs in front of the fire. “Did you see Professor Dumbledore? He looked as if he aged a hundred years overnight.” “I suppose you would too if a student whom you thought dead returned after being gone for however many years,” Ron said as he sank into the armchair across from Hermione. “More importantly,” Hermione said as she rubbed her temples, “why hasn’t she aged? She still looks young.” Ron shrugged and played with a loose thread of his jumper. “Are there any books in here? You know, with pictures from the previous Houses?” “Do you mean like Hogwarts, A History but with pictures of past Houses? Hmmm…” Hermione closed her eyes, her head falling against the back of the chair. She rubbed her temples as she thought about Ron’s question. “I can’t think of any other Hogwarts books like that. But are there other books? There are few on the shelf that may be helpful, but I don’t have the energy to go through them tonight.” Harry stood behind them, only half listening to their conversation. He was still thinking about the girl. Adria. Why had she seemed so familiar? “We should investigate the Thornwood’s,” Harry said, turning towards his friends. “And Grindelwald. What do we know of him, anyway? We’ve been so caught up in trying to defeat Voldemort that we’ve forgotten about who came before him.” Hermione looked thoughtful. “You may be right. I wonder if there are any books on Grindelwald in the Restricted Section. I loathe asking Madam Pince for help; she would probably rescind my approval for being in there in the first place.” “Ron, do you remember anything about the Thornwood family?” Harry asked his friend, who was staring at the fire. “No, mate. Wait,” Ron said as he sat forward in his chair. “I think I remember my father mentioning the name before. Think, Ron. Think.” He closed his eyes and tapped his forehead. “Sorry, Harry. I can’t remember. I could ask Mum; she seems to know everyone in the wizarding world, but then she’d want to know why I want to know.” Harry felt a pang of acute loss for Sirius. His godfather would have known about the Thornwoods, Harry was sure of it. ”What about Professor Lupin?” Hermione asked as she stood up from the chair and stretched, yawning loudly. “Write to him, he may know something, but let’s not talk about this anymore tonight. My head is spinning. Thankfully tomorrow is Saturday and I need to go to sleep. I’ll be able to do some more research after the library opens tomorrow. Goodnight, Harry. Goodnight, Ron,” she said as she went up the stairs to her dormitory. The boys both said goodnight, and Harry pretended not to notice Ron’s eyes following Hermione as she walked away. He sat down in Hermione’s deserted chair, and Crookshanks jumped up on the arm, purring. Harry scratched his ears and looked towards Ron. Ron had his feet stretched out before him, his trainers dangerously close to the fire grate. “I’ve never seen anyone in a state as she was, Harry.” Ron said quietly. “I know,” Harry said as Crookshanks came down off of the arm and stepped into Harry’s lap, kneading his paws into Harry’s stomach. His purring was loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire. The cat turned towards Ron before settling comfortably in Harry’s lap. “The Unforgivable spells I saw last year in the Department of Mysteries never leave a scratch on you. She looked as if she crawled out of a grave,” said Ron as he templed his fingers under his chin. “You don’t think…” he said as an awful idea came to mind. “No, I don’t,” said Harry quickly as he scratched Crookshank’s ears. He stared at the fire for a moment, trying to find the words to tell Ron of his encounter when he touched the girl. “Something happened to me when I touched her.” “What do you mean?” “When I touched her shoulder, I was plunged into a dark tunnel or something. It was black as night and stifling. Even odder, I could hear something breathing and giggling.” “Then what happened?” “Then nothing happened. I knelt down and touched the floor…” Harry broke off as he looked down at his hand. There was dirt under his fingernails. He turned it over and examined his hand, looking closely at the dark smudge on his palm. “What is it?” “I don’t know, but my hand is dirty,” Harry said. “Did I leave at all? Suddenly disappeared and then reappeared a moment later?” “No, you were there the entire time.” Ron shook his head. “Where do you think you were?” “I must have been where she was.” Harry shuddered. “It was horrible, Ron. I was in complete darkness, and it was hard to breathe. I hope she hasn’t been trapped there for the last fifty years. If it were me, I think I would have gone insane.” “Who’s to say she hasn’t?” “What do you mean?” “Her. The girl, Adria. Who’s to say she isn’t barking? I think I would be barkers too.” Ron shifted in his seat as he turned back towards the fire. “It’s a mystery, which I’m sure Hermione will want to solve. It’s late,” he paused and then yawned loudly. “We’ll think more clearly in the morning. Let’s go to bed.” “Sounds good to me, mate,” Harry said as he stood up with Crookshanks in his arms. He put the purring cat into the seat he just vacated and watched as Crookshanks turned round and round, kneading the worn chintz covering with his claws before finally curling up to go to sleep. He followed Ron up the stairs, both of them moving carefully to their beds so they wouldn’t wake Dean, Neville and Seamus. Harry was so tired that he was tempted to crawl into bed in his clothes. “Hermione must have been tired,” Ron remarked quietly as he changed into his pajamas. “She didn’t leave any knitting sitting around for the house elves to find.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned again, not even bothering to cover his mouth as he crawled under the covers. Harry didn’t answer Ron; instead he watched the moon through the window as he buttoned his pajama shirt. It didn’t matter anyway; by the time Harry pulled the covers back, Ron was already snoring. Tonight was the full moon. Not a good time to be sending an owl to Professor Lupin. He would wait a few days, to give Professor Lupin time to recuperate from the moon and also to see if they could find anything about the girl or Grindelwald here at the school. Harry yawned. He should have been asleep hours ago. Tomorrow morning was Quidditch practice, and if he was off his game, Katie Bell, their new team captain, would surely make him aware of it. He closed his eyes and fell into dreams about snitches with bright green eyes.
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