Though thy slumber may be deep,
Yet thy spirit shall not sleep,
There are shades which will not vanish,
There are thoughts thou canst not banish;
By a power to thee unknown,
Thou canst never be alone;
Thou art wrapt as with a shroud,
Thou art gather’d in a cloud;
And for ever shalt thou dwell
In the spirit of this spell.
Harry walked slowly down the street, hiding beneath his Invisibility Cloak. His wand was at the ready; the area he had come across was dodgy-looking and derelict. All around him, the shabby buildings loomed overhead, and he looked up at the towering brick chimney on the hill, a dark silhouette against the starry sky. He had no idea where he was, only that it was very far from where he had started. Harry had left the Burrow three days previously, and so far had not made any progress. His first plan was to find Snape, and destroy him. Dumbledore had been his last hope, and Harry felt lost and confused without the headmaster’s guidance.
As he walked, he felt as though he was being watched. Every so often he would catch something moving out of the corner of his eye, but upon a second glance it would be gone. Suddenly, he stepped in a puddle, cursing under his breath at the muddy water seeping through his shoe. Then, without warning, something or someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him roughly into an alley.
Harry threw off his cloak, his wand at the ready. He heard a woman’s throaty chuckle, and saw a hand reach up and pull off another Invisibility Cloak. Underneath was a witch, her face hidden in shadow. “You can put the wand down, Potter,” she said, as he pointed his wand at her throat.
“Who are you?” he snarled, not lowering his arm.
“I didn’t expect a seventeen-year-old wizard to be skulking around these parts,” she responded, grinning slightly as she moved into the moonlight, shaking out her mane of wild, dark hair streaked with grey.
“Answer the question,” Harry demanded, and she rolled her eyes.
“Ursula Hardwick, freelance Auror. Moody warned me about you, Potter, he said you were a bit jumpy. Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you right now? Blimey, I’d get a fair reward if I took you straight back to Hogwarts."
“I’m not going back to Hogwarts, I have...more important things to do,” Harry replied acidly. “And what exactly is a ‘freelance Auror’, anyway?"
“Means I don’t report to the Ministry. Not anymore, at least, since the place has gone to the dogs. Anyway, what do you think you’re doing here?”
“That’s my business, isn’t it?”
“This is Spinner’s End, Potter. Where Severus Snape used to live. I know you aren’t just here for a holiday, so you can drop the attitude.”
“Well, what are you doing here?” Harry asked, trying to keep up the pretense that he knew where he was and why he was there, and Ursula laughed again.
“I’m after old Severus too. Some people are under the impression that he was under a spell or curse the night he killed Dumbledore, and I’m doing a bit of investigation.”
This time, Harry laughed. “He wasn’t under a spell, he’s just a worthless scumbag out to save his own skin, even if it means killing people in the process.”
Ursula surveyed him for a moment, her pale blue eyes calculating. “So you want to be an Auror, eh, Potter?”
“Yeah, who told you?”
“Mad-Eye did, last time I talked to him.” She folded her arms and looked at him. “If you’re dead set on being an Auror, there’s a lot you still have to learn. Things aren’t always what they seem, and you’ve got to look beneath the surface to get some decent answers. Whoever it is you’re after, you have to look at every facet of their being, find out what makes them tick, what scares them the most.”
“So you think the Order is right, then? That Snape was under a spell?” Harry asked skeptically. He didn’t think it possible that the greasy git was acting of anything other than his own free will.
“Possibly. Like I said, that’s what I’m here to find out.” She looked out of the alley, down the dark street. “Well, as long as you’re here, you might as well give me a hand. An extra set of eyes and ears is always useful.”
“Why should I help you? How do I know I can trust you?” Harry inquired.
Ursula smirked at him. “Well, Potter, first of all I’m after the same person you are. Everyone else can hardly believe what Severus did, they’re coming up with all sorts of loony explanations for his betrayal. I, however, think he’s capable of anything he puts his mind to, including murder. Still, I’m here to get to the bottom of things before jumping to conclusions.” She paused, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m going to start with his house. Come on.” She threw her Invisibility Cloak on again, and Harry did the same. “Walk to the very end of the road and wait for my signal.”
Harry carefully exited the alley. The streets were deserted, and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. He walked onwards, finally reaching the end of the street, and caught a glimpse of a silvery light emanating from the tip of Ursula's wand. She was standing in the shadows on one side of a neglected-looking house, her Invisibility Cloak in one gloved hand. "Follow me, we're going in," she whispered, and tapped the glass of the window with her wand. "Evanesco." The glass vanished, and Ursula quickly climbed through the open window frame, followed closely by Harry.
They had entered a shabby-looking kitchen, where an empty bottle of wine lay on its side on the table. Many of the cupboard doors were ajar, revealing nothing but empty, dusty shelves. Ursula stowed her cloak in the small bag thrown over her shoulder, and pulled out a small box and a battered old notebook. Seeing Harry's puzzled expression, she said, "Fingerprinting. An old Muggle police trick, of course. It's really quite useful, though most others would sneer at it. Most wizards don't even think about leaving their grubby little fingerprints on everything." She carefully sprinkled a bit of white powder on the overturned bottle, and tapped it around before blowing on it. She picked up the bottle, examining it closely before setting it upright. Harry noticed there were several spots where the powder remained, and Ursula nodded to herself.
“Two sets of prints on this one. Let me just check something...” She flipped through the pages of her tattered notebook. "Yeah, I thought so. See, Potter, I've got the fingerprints of dozens of people in here, from Death Eaters to other Aurors. The ones on this bottle belong to Snape and Pettigrew." Slowly, she crept out of the kitchen into the sitting room, and Harry followed behind wondering what Snape and Wormtail had been up to.
The sitting room was full of so many books, Harry thought Hermione would have had a heart attack out of sheer glee. Ursula leaned closer to the sofa, and picked up a long, blonde hair, mouthing soundlessly to herself. Harry scanned the room, then noticed a trio of wine glasses sitting on a side table. They were still dirty, with traces of dried-up wine in the bottom. He pointed to the glasses, and Ursula swooped over, producing her box of white powder. As she carefully dusted the glasses, Harry wondered if he should be helping in some way.
Harry’s green eyes carefully scanned a nearby armchair. He noticed a long black hair on the back of it, and tapped Ursula on the shoulder, pointing to it. She picked it up and stowed it in a plastic bag along with the blonde hair. “Blonde and black...hmm,” she muttered to herself, picking up one of the glasses with her leather-gloved hand and comparing it to the fingerprints in her notebook. Ursula narrowed her eyes, and picked up another of the glasses. “All three have Pettigrew’s prints on them.”
“What does that mean?” Harry asked, rather confused. He had never seen an Auror at work, much less one who used such unconventional methods. He would have expected her to perform some sort of spell, or to use a potion of some sort.
“I can’t be sure, but if his prints were on the bottle, too, maybe he brought wine to Severus and his guests. The question is, who were the guests?” She squinted at one of the wine glasses again, scribbling a quick note in the back of her book with a pencil. “I think I’ve got it. Come on.” Ursula pointed her wand at the glasses, and the white dust vanished. “Don’t want to leave any traces behind, he might know it was me,” she added, seeing Harry’s puzzled look. This statement merely served to confuse Harry further; did she and Snape know each other?
They exited through the window, and walked down towards the riverbank. “Can you Apparate?” Ursula asked, removing her cloak.
“Yeah, I just passed my test two weeks ago.”
“How far?”
Harry thought for a moment. “The furthest I’ve gone so far is from the Ministry headquarters to Diagon Alley.”
Ursula scratched her chin. “Not a bad start, I suppose. Could you make it to Hogsmeade from here?” she asked.
“Probably, why? You aren’t going to hand me over to McGonagall or the Order, are you?” Harry inquired suspiciously, knowing that his friends would probably try and stop him from leaving if they found him.
“What? I think you’ve got me all wrong, Potter. I work for no one, and right now you’re perfectly free to walk away from me, but if you’re hunting for Severus then we’ll probably run into each other again anyway.”
“You’re looking for him too? Why, though?”
“I have my reasons, just like you have yours. Unlike you, however, I’m not planning to kill him the second he turns up, because he’s much more useful alive.” She stuffed the cloak into her shoulder-bag and looked at Harry. “Meet me in front of the Hog’s Head, or don’t. It’s up to you, Potter. If you decide to follow me, wear the cloak if you must.” She nodded to him and Disapparated.
Harry stood there, thinking. If he followed Ursula, he risked appearing in a room full of Order members and informants. Still, he wanted to learn more. He shrugged to himself, knowing he had nothing to lose, and Disapparated wearing his Invisibility Cloak.
He appeared outside the Hog’s Head, and spotted Ursula standing in the shadows. Seeing that no one was around, he removed his cloak. “Hold still for a second,” Ursula whispered, then pointed her wand at Harry. Before he could stop her, she had turned him into an owl. He stared in horror at his taloned feet and feathers, and tried to shout at her, but all that came out was a great deal of angry hooting. Ursula picked him up, told him to keep quiet, and carried him into the pub along with his backpack and broom.
The hairy barman looked up from the filthy glass he was wiping. “What do you want?” he growled.
“A room for the night, the cheapest you’ve got. Make sure it’s private, Abe, I don’t want to be disturbed for anything.”
The barman nodded, rummaging in his pocket and producing a rusty key. “Number two, upstairs. That’ll be twenty Sickles.”
“Nice try. Make it ten, or I’ll tell the whole bar how long it’s been since you washed that rag,” Ursula said in an undertone.
He scowled at her and nodded. She counted out ten Sickles and placed them on the bar, then took the key from the old man’s hand. As she headed upstairs carrying the Harry-owl, she noticed a man taking a swig from a large glass. She clapped him on the back as she passed and muttered, “Ignorance is bliss, mate, remember that.”
As soon as Ursula closed the door behind her, she turned Harry back into a human.
“What the hell was that for?” he snarled.
"Temper, temper, mister Potter. Old Abe would’ve gone straight to Lupin if he’d seen you, there’s a big price on your head right now. Normally he wouldn’t bat an eye, but seeing as how Lupin and the others offered him a reward if he caught you, he’s been keeping a sharp lookout. Everyone’s desperate to find you. Can’t see why, myself. You’re of age, you can do whatever you bloody well like to without having a search party sent after you.”
Ursula opened her bag and dumped the contents onto the table. She motioned for him to sit down on one of the rickety chairs, and picked up her notebook. “So far, I’ve figured out who the fingerprints belong to, and I’m willing to bet they were all in the house at the same time. Severus Snape, Narcissa Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange were all in the sitting room together, drinking wine. The question is, why?”
“Well, they’re all Death Eaters, maybe they get together for meetings or something like the Order does.” Harry suggested with a shrug.
“Narcissa’s no Death Eater, and Severus is just a very good actor. Do you really think he’d waste his time with the rest if there wasn’t anything in it for him? He’s only interested in taking orders from others if it’ll benefit him somehow, he thinks only of himself. No, it wasn’t a Death Eater meeting. Besides, Narcissa and Bellatrix don’t get along very well. Narcissa’s just not evil enough.”
“Her son is, though,” Harry muttered bitterly.
“Ah, right, you go to school with Malfoy, don’t you? I heard that Severus was keeping an eye on him, protecting him while Lucius is in Azkaban.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, he took some sort of vow to protect him, I overheard them talking last Christmas.”
Ursula froze. “The Unbreakable Vow?” she asked quickly, looking as though this news was a major breakthrough.
“Erm...I think so. Why? What does it matter?”
“Potter, it matters a great deal. The Unbreakable Vow cannot be broken, so whatever Severus vowed to do, he would have died instantly if he refused to go through with it. There has to be more to it than him simply protecting Draco Malfoy. What was Draco up to during the school year? Anything fishy at all?”
Harry gaped at her. After months of watching the Marauder’s Map, having Draco followed by house-elves, and trying to convince Ron and Hermione, someone was sitting in front of him asking quite seriously if Malfoy had been doing anything suspicious. Harry took a deep breath, then immediately launched into a long list of everything Malfoy had done, concluding with his failed attempt to kill Dumbledore.
“So when Malfoy was too cowardly to do it, Severus stepped in? How did Dumbledore become so weakened in the first place?”
“He was...injured,” Harry replied, not wanting to recall his experience in the cave.
Ursula’s eyes bored deeply into his. “I know this may sound a little, er, morbid, but how badly injured was Dumbledore? It may be important, to know whether it was just something like a broken leg, or a mortal wound.”
Harry felt a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was the last thing in the world he wanted to discuss, especially to a near-stranger. “He“ he was dying,” Harry said quietly, and Ursula closed her eyes with a small sigh.
“I see. Don’t worry, Potter, I won’t bother you with any more questions tonight. Why don’t you get some sleep, you look as though you’ve been awake for days.” When Harry hesitated, she sighed again. “Trust me, I’m not going to attack you in your sleep or anything. I know it’s difficult trusting anyone these days, but you’re safer here with me than out there by yourself.”
Harry slowly moved across the room and sat down on the musty-smelling bed, his hand around the wand in his pocket. In spite of his paranoia, he fell asleep within minutes of his head hitting the lumpy pillow.
Hours later, he awoke to find someone prodding him in the arm. “Potter, time to wake up,” Ursula’s voice said quietly, and he opened his eyes.
“What time is it?” he asked, sitting up and adjusting his crooked glasses.
“Just after eight. Are you hungry?”
Harry shook his head, and she scoffed at him. “Yeah, right. When was the last time you had a decent meal, Potter? You look hungry enough to eat a herd of Hippogriffs. Stay here, I’ll be right back with some food,” she told him, and Disapparated.
Harry got out of bed, and sat down at the small table. Judging by the fact that the contents of Ursula’s bag were still scattered over the table, she had been awake all night. Among the items on the table were several battered-looking quills (one of them a peacock feather), a can of cat food, two glass vials of a clear liquid, a pair of dragon-leather gloves, a Sneakoscope, and a silver ring set with a small emerald. Harry picked up the ring and saw that it was engraved with two serpents.
Just then, Ursula reappeared carrying a large paper bag from which a delicious smell was wafting. Harry dropped the ring in surprise, but even more surprisingly, Ursula did not seem to care that he had just been going through her personal effects. “I picked up some pastries and things from Madam Puddifoot’s, she bakes them fresh every morning. If it wasn’t for her blueberry scones, I wouldn’t be caught dead in that place,” she added with a shudder. “The colour pink gives me a strong urge to vomit.” She tapped the paper bag with her wand, and it turned into a paper plate piled high with food.
Harry eagerly grabbed a glazed doughnut off the top of the pile, wolfing it down in seconds. He was hungrier than he had thought, and reached for a sticky cinnamon bun. He noticed that Ursula had picked up the ring, and looked at it lazily as she munched on a scone. “I got this in my seventh year as a present,” she said idly. “The day I found out I was accepted into Auror training.”
“So, you went to Hogwarts, then?”
“Yes, ages ago. I was in my third year when your mum and dad started school there.”
“Did you know them?” Harry asked eagerly.
Ursula shook her head. “I knew who they were, but I never met them. See, I wasn’t in their house, and they weren’t likely to spend their time talking to Slytherins.”
Harry stared. “You were in Slytherin? But“ you’re an Auror!”
She nodded. “Yes, so far I’m the first Slytherin to become an Auror, and probably the last from what I’ve heard. My decision certainly wasn’t popular at the time, even my own parents weren’t all that supportive.”
“Were they...did you have a lot of Dark wizards in your family?” Harry inquired, then hoped he hadn’t offended her.
“No, they weren’t Dark wizards, but they did think Voldemort had the right idea, and they didn’t want their own daughter accusing their friends of Dark wizardry. They didn’t want me ‘mingling with Mudbloods’ as they put it. Total rubbish, of course; the best Aurors I know are either half-bloods or Muggle-born.”
“Did you know that Voldemort himself isn’t pure-blooded?” Harry mentioned, and Ursula nearly choked on a blueberry.
“You’re joking! I had no idea! Well, that certainly puts a new twist on things, doesn’t it?” she exclaimed, rubbing her throat with a grimace. “Who told you that, anyway?”
“He did, actually. He told me himself, back when I was in my second year.”
“Sweet merciful Merlin! I wonder if his Death Eaters know,” she said, scribbling something in the back of her notebook. “I’d love to see the look on old Bella’s face if she found that out. She’d have to be carted off to St. Mungo’s, I think,” she added with a laugh.
“I told her, but she didn’t believe me. I guess you must have gone to school with her as well?” he asked.
“Yes, she was in my year. Even back then she was a nutter, always going on about how much she liked him. Every second sentence would contain the words ‘the Dark Lord’, and she would curse people for the most trivial reasons. Once, she used the Jelly-legs curse on a first-year who accidentally bumped into her. Bloody psycho.” She waved her wand, and two cups of steaming coffee appeared on the table. “Here, have a drink. It’s going to be a long day, I’ll warn you now.”
“What are you planning on doing?” Harry asked, taking a small sip of the strong, bitter coffee.
“I’m going home to pick up a few things. You should go home as well, Potter.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. Surely she wasn’t talking about Privet Drive? “Er“" he began.
“Not back to the Muggles, boy, to the house of Black!” Ursula interrupted exasperatedly. “You might be able to find something interesting there, and if you do, you can find me at number seven, Wyvern Road, in London. Cheers,” she said, and Disapparated.
Harry mouthed soundlessly, memorizing the address while wondering what on earth he would find stashed away in Grimmauld Place. Ursula Hardwick seemed to know a great deal more than she let on, and Harry found himself determined to learn more.
A/N: Once again, the poem stanza at the top of the page is from "When the Moon is on the Wave" by Lord Byron. Each chapter will have one stanza from this poem.