(2) Here There Be Dragons

"Are you coming, Gee?" asked Lori, as she and Bea paused at the steps leading down to their dorm house.

Giselle had followed them down the marble staircase out of habit, while her thoughts dwelled on the remarkable news that Charlie had come to Hogwarts. She thought it was probably due to the Tournament, that he was here to supervise some aspects of it that concerned big ferocious beasts. Her heart swelled with pride and affection.

"Now see here, Gee, it's after curfew," said Bea in an anxious tone. "If Professor Sprout counts heads in the Common Room and yours is missing, you'll be in trouble. We could lose house points, and heaven knows we can't afford that!"

"I have to say hullo to him, I'll just be a minute. I can hear Ron down in the dungeon calling to Charlie. I'll be back in a flash, I promise. If Sprout comes in, cover for me! Tell her you think that I'm, um, in the restroom."

Without waiting for their reaction, Giselle crossed the Hall and went running down the dungeon stairs, past the Potions classrooms. She was beginning her fourth year and she had never been beyond this vaulted-ceiling corridor of the dungeon.

She came to a transverse corridor and listened. To her right the corridor ended at a large iron door marked 'Private.' To her left, somewhere further than she could see, came Ron's voice: "Charlie? It's me. Hullo? Charlie!"

And then Hermione saying nervously, "He's not here. We'd better be going back."

"Not so quick," said the voice of Snape. "Firstly, Mr Weasley, your brother is getting his things in order in one of the supply rooms where he will be residing during his stay. Secondly, it is well past the curfew and each of you three have lost five points from your house talley. Take yourselves to your dorm before I take further measures to punish your insubordination."

Giselle, a hand to her mouth, squeezed in behind a statue of Titus the Terrible. She closed her eyes, hardly daring to breathe. She heard three pairs of footsteps passing her. Included was some muttering from Ron, a hiss from Hermione, and a sigh from Harry.

Silence.

Giselle strained her ears. She thought she heard a door opening, a rusty sort of noise that she supposed was the iron door. Was it Professor Snape? Was that his living quarters? It would be near the Slytherin dorm, probably, which she had never seen and couldn't imagine ever wanting to.

She was about to slip out from her hiding place when the shuffling sound of feet and heavy breathing caused her to shrink back into the niche. This time her eyes were wide open. She could see just a bit of the lamplit corridor.

A dark figure passed by. It was apparently headed for the stairs to the Entrance Hall. Could it be Charlie? That hoarse, labored breathing... Was he ill? Was he going up to the hospital wing? Poor Charlie!

Giselle peeked out and saw a man wearing a black cloak going slowly up the stairs. She was sure it wasn't Snape. He wore a sockcap and she couldn't see his hair, but his height and broad shoulders suggested that this might indeed be Charlie.

Who else could it be? Might this be a Slytherin student? She was reminded of Boris Vlaud, one of the Slytherin boys she had seen earlier, laughing at the plight of Mrs Dursley. But the figure going up into the Hall seemed in a bad way, and there was nothing decrepit about Boris.

Giselle stepped out into the corridor. The man was now in the Hall. She went tiptoeing to the stairs and peered up at the Hall's row of portraits, which was all she could see from where she stood.

One of the portraits was of Sanguino, a necromantic wizard that Professor Binns had spoken about when Giselle's History of Magic class in her first year was given a tour of the art works in the Hall.

Sanguino lived in the 13th century, a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw. He had made some important discoveries in the uses of blood that was the basis for the alchemical projects of Nicholas Flamel. All this flashed through Giselle's mind as she saw Sanquino's image rise from the chair in the painting and stand looking down at something, or someone, in the Hall, in the direction of the great doors.

Sanguino was a tall thin man with a long narrow black beard, a long pointed nose, large deep-set eyes, swarthy skin, and particularly large hands. He wore a red turban and dark brown robes with green trim. His expression was both amused and suspicious as he smiled at that which he gazed upon.

"You would be wise to follow my advice," he said. "Cooperate, and together we may find a cure. Don't put much trust or hope in Madame Pomfrey. She is too conventional in her approach, too cautious in her thinking. Ah... I see you are in haste to satisfy your needs. Go, by all means, and seek what you need."

'Speak his name,' thought Giselle, desperately, 'speak his name!'

But he did not. Sanguino sat down and closed his eyes. Like all the other portraits, he was asleep.

Giselle went quickly but silently up the stairs and peeked around the corner at the great doors.

One of them was closing...

"I quite agree, Albus," said Professor McGonagall that night in the Head of School office, comfortably seated in the plush chairs by the fireplace. "If anything can upgrade Mrs Dursley's attitude toward Harry, it is a long visit here. I'm glad she's showing a keen interest, and hope she'll have no more frights."

"No fright that wasn't expected for a muggle visiting a magic school," smiled Dumbledore, adding with a twinkle in his eyes, "but I haven't told you all. After Petunia has had a couple days to adjust to her unusual surroundings, I intend to ask her if she would care to be the assistant teacher for Muggle Studies. Just for a week or two. Such an experience would enhance her feelings for Hogwarts. It would be an emotional investment that should pay dividends this summer when Harry's home."

McGonagall gave a short laugh and raised her glass of sherry. "I'll drink to that, Albus. But..." Her smile became a pursed frown. "There's a troubling thing that's come up. Have you heard? Severus told me that Charlie Weasley is acting a little strange. Nothing dangerous, of course, but he seems very preoccupied with something that Severus thinks is unrelated to Charlie's scheduled duties for the Tournament's first challenge."

Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard. "More than likely this preoccupation concerns Charlie's investigation in Transylvania, about the vampire dragon scare that has been good for tourism but has been worrying the Ministry."

"I see," said McGonagall, then lowered her glass and frowned again. "But I've more to tell, also. Doris says that one of the visiting parents, Leon Vlaud, found his way to her hermitage at Loch Ness a month ago and inquired about the necromantic spells in the Devil's Quarter. As you know, the Ministry prohibits the teaching of these spells, and so of course Doris refused to discuss the subject with Leon."

"Well, Minerva, he's a Slytherin alumnus, and fancies the dark arts as most Slytherin alumni do."

"Yes, Albus. But Leon was hiding his motive from Doris, she is certain of it. He's up to no good, we can be sure. I've asked Severus to keep an eye on him when Leon sits in on Potions class tomorrow morning. Hufflepuff is sharing the class with Slytherin, third period. I expect Leon will make the most of it."

And he did, but in a wholly unexpected way, as surprising to himself as to everyone else in the dungeon classroom.

Giselle and her fellow Hufflepuffs sat on the side of the room that had windows. These were up near the ceiling and were kept shuttered.

Giselle shared a table in the front row with Bea and Felix. Lori and Cass stood at the table behind her. The steam from their cauldrons caused an acrid fog to drift over their heads and dim the torchlight. This made it difficult to read their recipes.

On the Slytherin side the air was humid from the stirring up of the Perpetual Squall potion, but other than the moaning wind effect and sudden spits of rain squirting in their faces, they had it easier than the coughing, eye-watering Hufflepuffs.

Giselle, stirring her potion in precise flicks of the wrist, eyed Mrs Dursley seated next to the teacher's desk. The woman seemed fascinated by everything in sight, a potion textbook open on her lap.

"Why's she here and not with the Gryffindors?" wondered Bea, adding the final pinch of powdered grasshopper to her cauldron.

"Harry says it's because she doesn't like him," Giselle replied. "She's been avoiding him."

Leon Vlaud acted restless. He wandered around the tables with his hands squirming in his coat pockets, often looking over his son Boris' shoulder and grimacing.

Snape appeared to be annoyed by Leon and made no attempt to hide his annoyance. He was testing the efforts of his students, making curt criticisms and occasionally showing grudging approval.

At the Hufflepuff side he said, "Your bouncing potion should be ready for demonstration in roughly ten minutes, if you have not made the usual numbskull mistakes."

Lori raised her spoon. "Sir, could we have more light? It's becoming awfully dark with all this fog."

Snape drew his wand and made a quick upward flourish.

The window shutters swung open. Beams of sunlight lanced through the dense vapor... and shone upon the terrified face of Leon Vlaud.

The man gasped in horror, shielding his face from the rays as he staggered back, colliding with the panicky Petunia, who screamed and crouched down behind the teacher's desk.

"Father!?" said Boris, as the class began chattering over the drama.

Snape reversed the spell. The shutters slammed shut. He pointed his wand at the grovelling, whimpering Leon and said tensely, "Arresto."

Leon Vlaud was lifted to his feet and pushed back against a cabinet by the force of the spell.

Giselle was all but mortified. She watched Snape examine the slightly burned face of the man, twisting back the head and feeling the pale neck with the tip of his thumb.

"Mr Vlaud," he said to him dispassionately, "are you aware that you have two puncture wounds on your neck?"

The fright in Leon's bulging eyes was answer enough.

"Mrs Dursley, if you don't mind," said Snape in a droll tone. She stood up, smoothing out her dress and trying to give the impression of being quite all right.

"I'm escorting Mr Vlaud to the Infirmary. His son will accompany us. I should like you, Mrs Dursley, to keep watch on the class. I shall be back shortly."

Petunia stared at him as if he had asked her to juggle a pair of porcupines.

With their teacher gone and the drama over, the class settled down, not quite sure what to make of the muggle woman. Could muggles be dangerous? Apparently no one wanted to take the risk of finding out.

"My potion," said Lori with an excited gasp, "it's bouncing!"

A moment later it smacked the ceiling.

"A little too much," she added despairingly.

"Leave it to a Hufflepuff," said Draco loudly, "to foul up the simplest potion."

"Drake," Pansy whispered to him, "your cauldron's raining on your shoes."

"What--?"