Year Five, Chapter Thirty Four
Holly read the book Dumbledore had handed her - the book on Horcruxes and all other sorts of dark magic - only by moonlight when everyone else was asleep. There were simply too many other people at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place to hide what she was reading during the day, and if the roof at night was not the warmest place to read, it was at least private.
She could only stomach so much at a time - the pictures alone were enough to turn her stomach. Shifting, moving images of horror carved from demented strokes of a quill. Worse were the whispers, which told her all about whatever dark ritual she read about. Told her all the secrets to it, all the ways she could use such a ritual.
If Ginny and Hermione, who shared Holly's room when all three of them were at Headquarters, noticed Holly's midnight jaunts, they didn't confront her about them. None of them had time during the day for something like that, anyway. The whole house was always wound tight with tension, the wizard wireless droning from half a dozen rooms as everyone tried to busy themselves.
Holly led her friends in duelling practice, and a few of the Order members were game to try their luck between whatever missions they had been assigned by Dumbledore. Holly found out that Mrs Weasley was actually a ferocious duellist, slinging hexes with the speed and precision of formal training - only she mixed up the very recognisable style with conjuring and animation charms.
Ron, who seemed to have been holding back against his mother in the opening moments of the duel, had to admit defeat after he was chased all around the duelling room by a cloud of conjured meat cleavers. He had blasted a half dozen away with each curse, but Mrs Weasley would have already conjured and animated a dozen more.
"Your mum's kind of a badass, Ginny," Holly said.
"Where do you think I get it from?" she said with a smirk.
The first loss was reported a day after Boxing Day. Hestia Jones had been killed at her home just before she was due to take a shift serving as a lookout at the Department of Mysteries. There had been no Dark Mark, but the Hit Wizards had arrived to find her dead of a Killing Curse and signs of a significant battle.
All the older Order members - those who had fought in the First War - told stories about her late into the evening. Tonks sat at the long dinner table with a haunted look in her eyes, their usual neon-bright colour fading to a dull black. Mad-Eye said something to her quietly, his words too low for Holly to hear, and then he offered Tonk's something strong enough Holly could definitely smell it from the other end of the table.
Soon enough the Christmas break was over, and Holly found herself at the centre of another tense convoy of enchanted cars heading towards King's Cross. These weren't the sleek Ministry cars she had seen before, though. They were a mishmash of second-hand muggle vehicles that seemed to have been selected for their utterly ordinary appearance.
"Enchanted them myself, after the unpleasantness between the Minister and Dumbledore. Not, ah, technically legal - but so long as I don't ask myself any questions, nobody will take any issue with it," Mr Weasley said, and Holly found she could still laugh after all.
King's Cross was even more fortified than the last time Holly had been here, with teams of barely disguised Hit-Wizards standing menacingly around the muggle portion of the station alongside dozens of muggle police officers. All of them carried guns, and Holly saw a lot of nervous glances on the faces of the muggles passing through the station.
She occasionally wondered what the Ministry used as a cover story for them, or what orders the muggle government had given them. Shoot anyone in a skull mask?
Holly rubbed the enchanted wand holster hidden up her sleeve as she pushed her cart through the station. Dumbledore thought that once they'd gotten to the station itself, they would be safe enough - Voldemort wasn't likely to make an attack this major before he retrieved the prophecy, especially if Holly was going to be there.
It didn't make her any less nervous, or any less inclined to seek the comforting warmth of her wand against her arm.
The train ride back to Hogwarts was unusually quiet and grim, the Azkaban breakout casting a pall over everyone but a few of the more odious Slytherins. Pansy Parkinson practically strutted past Holly's compartment, followed by a half dozen pureblood hangers-on.
"It's started," Hermione said as she watched them walk past.
"What?" Ron said, looking up from his chess game with Luna Lovegood. Luna was one of the few people in the school who could match Ron. She didn't have his technical mastery, nor his uncanny ability to see a dozen moves ahead, but her strategies were so unorthodox that they forced even Ron to think on his feet rather than use his massive mental stockpile of openings and gambits.
"They're choosing sides. Making sure everyone knows they supported Voldemort, without doing anything that could land them in legal trouble," Hermione said.
"Well, if Pansy Parkinson is all he can get to lead his Junior Death Eaters, it's probably a good sign," Holly said.
"Enough about Pansy bloody Parkinson. Who're you taking to Slughorn's party, Hermione?" Ginny asked. Hermione flushed a deep red and it took a moment of flustered sputtering before she was coherent enough to answer.
"I - um, that is, I asked Micheal Corner from the DA by owl," Hermione said.
"Oooh, he's fit. I didn't know the two of you got along," Ginny said. Ron looked faintly disgusted at the idea.
"He's in my arithmancy study group," Hermione said, defensively.
"Oh do stop gagging, Ronald. He's not that bad," Ginny said. She rolled her eyes at her brother as she spoke, and Holly found it incredibly cute.
"I don't find Hermione taking a date to Slughorn's shitty party gag-worthy. I bloody told her to, if you'll remember. What I object to is Micheal Corner, who's a right wanker and has always been one," Ron said, putting Luna into checkmate. His tiny black knight physically leapt up into the air and smashed down onto Luna's king, like one of Dudley's video games.
"I've never really had much interaction with him, but I suppose he does have high levels of wrackspurts," she said, resetting the enchanted chessboard with a tap of her wand.
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Holly said, though she knew she sounded as uncertain as she felt.
The mood in the compartment slowly backed away from the edge of the argument it had been teetering over, though Holly could tell there was a note of tension all the way to school.
By the time the train pulled up at Hogsmeade station, it was already dark - six o'clock by the station clock. Watches were never very reliable on the train, which Holly thought was probably part of the complex unplottable charms that protected Hogwarts' location from mapping. It was a surprisingly common topic of academic conversation because it made Britain's ley lines uniquely difficult to track.
It was also, of course, raining and so Holly rushed to a carriage; holding her wand aloft with a shield charm acting as an improvised umbrella. She had Slughorn's party to attend instead of dinner, and this one would require fancier dress than usual. She definitely didn't want to get rained on.
Holly had outgrown her dress robes from last year, but as she only had the one set and couldn't exactly go out and shop for more, Mrs Weasly had kindly shown her how to tailor them with magic. Magical tailoring could accomplish far more than the muggle equivalent, using spells to do a day's mundane tailoring in an instant - and without needing any extra cloth.
Walking through the halls in her dress robes, hand in hand with Ginny, while they were so empty was on odd experience. Everyone else was at dinner, giving the still well-lit halls an eerie quality, but soon Holly and Ginny met up with other members of the Slug Club. Hermione and her date, Micheal Corner, were the first pair they encountered.
Regrettably, the next pair was Cormac McLaggen and a seventh-year Hufflepuff Holly didn't know. From the vaguely disgusted looks she gave Holly and Hermione, Holly guessed she was another stuck-up pureblood.
"Wow, he's found a date as unpleasant as he is," Holly whispered to Ginny, who tried very hard not to giggle and failed.
Slughorn's office had been transformed as usual, changing the spacious office into a much longer dining room. The huge hardwood dining table was intricately carved, and the purple tablecloth seemed to shimmer in the light descending from the massive golden chandelier overhead. Pipe smoke wafted from one corner, whilst from another came the soft sounds of mandolins accompanying a gentle voice. The extension charm was, to Holly's eyes, beautiful - far more so than the expensive decorations. To work such magic, especially in only one dimension, on a building as magical as Hogwarts would have required the most delicate of touches.
"Miss Potter, Holly my dear - I've someone I'd like to introduce you to!" Slughorn said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the mass of people in attendance, very few of whom Holly recognised. She silently cursed her short height as she and Ginny made their way through the press of people towards Slughorn.
He was standing next to a pair of men, who seemed almost designed as a contrast. One was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome whilst the other was portly, middle-aged, and possessed of a truly unfortunate set of mutton chops. The handsome man had several girls - and an adult witch or two - standing around him; all trying to catch his attention.
"Hello, Professor. Thank you for inviting me," Holly said.
"Not a chance I'd let you miss this, my dear. Not a chance. This is my friend Eldred Worple, author of Blood Brothers: My Life with the Vampires. A bestseller in twenty-seven countries now, was it?"
"Thirty-one, as of the last count. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Potter, a real pleasure - and your lovely date, of course. This is Sanguini, my friend whose story comprises much of the book," Worple said, his voice aristocratic and slightly slurred - from alcohol if the redness in his cheeks was any indication.
"It is my most exciting to meet you, Miss Potter," Sanguini said, giving Holly a short bow.
"This is Ginny Weasley, my girlfriend," Holly said, and she tried not to grin when she saw Ginny looking at Sanguini too. He really was extremely good-looking, with features so defined that they appeared to have been chiselled from stone.
"Ah, I thought I recognised you, Miss Weasley - I believe I've met your father a few times. I must say, Miss Potter - I really am delighted to see you. Why, I was just saying to Horace that I simply can't believe no one has written the Holly Potter biography yet!" Worple said.
"You were?"
"So modest! But seriously, my dear, I am simply craving to write it myself. A few four or five-hour sessions - say over a month - and the two of us could be positively drowning in galleons."
"It's really quite a painless process, Miss Potter," Sanguini said. He flashed her a smile, and Holly saw his elongated - and very, very white - canines.
"I'm... I'm sure. So nice to meet you, but I think I see a friend over there," Holly said. She felt her cheeks flush and made her escape with Ginny into the crowd. Just before she lost sight of Professor Slughorn she saw a House Elf silently appear and refill his drink. The elf gave Holly a wink and disappeared without a sound.
Holly had to dodge several other conversations along the same lines as the party went on, while she waited for her opportunity. She couldn't exactly ransack Slughorn's mind in the middle of the party - she needed to get him somewhere where they wouldn't be seen. Her plan rested in a special commission from the Weasly twins - the active ingredient in a Puking Pastille, ground to a very fine powder and absent any colourings or flavourings (the actual Skiving Snackbox had a surprisingly pleasant mango flavour).
Her opportunity came halfway through the party, though she winced when she realised which couple was shouting at each other.
"All I said was-" Micheal Corner said, his hands raised.
"All you said was a crock of blood supremacist shit!" Hermione shouted.
Holly made her move, slipping the powder into Slughorn's drink as he turned to look at the argument.
"All I said was Muggleborns need to better respect Wizarding culture!" he shouted back.
"Oh, like that's not the first line out of every blood supremacist's mouth whenever they're called out for their bigotry."
"My bigotry? You were the one who denigrated wizarding traditions first. If you like muggles so much, go live with them!" Micheal shouted. Hermione withdrew his wand and made to hex him, but he had his wand out in time to deflect it into the ceiling.
Before they could hex one another, Slughorn began violently vomiting. Sick spewed all over Mrs Zabini's expensive gown, and one gnarled warlock slipped as he tried to get out of the way.
"I think Professor Slughorn has had a bit too much fun tonight. I'll get him to the hospital wing," Holly said as she guided Slughorn out of the office whilst attempting to avoid being vomited on.
"Thank... thank you, my dear," Slughorn said as they left his office.
"Not a problem, sir," Holly said.
She was about to make her move, but the sound of some truly awful singing stopped her. She rounded the next corner and saw Ron and Luna sitting on a small raised balcony. With the extension charm, they could actually see into Slughorn's office through a small window from the balcony. A bottle of something rainbow-hued and strong lay half-drunk between them.
"MICHEAL CORNER'S A GIT!"
"I HOPE HE GETS BIT!"
"ON HIS - oh, hello Holly," Luna said, her words sounding only slightly slurred.
"What are you two doing?" Holly asked.
"Having a better time than you, mate," Ron said, as he drank some more of the rainbow-hued alcohol (Dirgibile Plum Gin, according to the label).
"Can't argue with you there," Holly said.
"I - I think I should... take points?" Slughorn said, but he was so drunk from the constant top-offs and so out of sorts from the snackbox powder that it came out more like a question.
"Not to worry sir, there's a prefect here," Holly said.
"Yes? Yes! Do... do... do handle this, Mr Weatherby," Slughorn said, and then he vomited a little on Ron's shoe.
"Let's keep going, sir," Holly said, whilst Ron and Luna cackled behind her.
After they'd made it a decent distance, Holly looked around a final time, judged they were alone, and silently withdrew her wand from the long sleeves of her dress robes. Her body bind curse hit Slughorn in the back, snapping his arms to his side and preventing him from doing anything more than moving his eyes around. Holly caught him as he fell, laying the portly Professor down inside a classroom with significant effort.
"I really am sorry about this, Professor," Holly said as she fed him the antidote to the Puking Pastille, so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit, and then she set to work. Slughorn's eyes were darting around wildly, but Holly knew her curse would hold.
She placed her wand to Slughorn's temple, and as her eyes caught his for a moment she extended a probe to examine his mental defences. Strong. Much too strong for even Dumbledore to fish the real memory of Slughorn's conversation with Tom Riddle about Horcruxes from his mind with but a glance.
Nowhere near strong enough to stop Holly with a wand to his head and all the time in the world.
"Legilimens," she whispered and threw her full might into the mental attack. Slughorn was a master Occlumens, better than Holly was at Legillimancy, but he was also extremely drunk. In less than a minute, she had seen through all seven of his fake copies and found the real memory.
She withdrew a glass vial from her robes and then, with a twist of her wand, she withdrew a copy of the real memory from Slughorn's mind. He fought her - even then - but the strand of silverly light took only moments to transfer to the vial, which she stoppered with a special stopper of alchemical silver.
"Obliviate," Holly said, her voice calm and cold, and a grey light washed over Slughorn taking with it any memory he had of the encounter.
