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Amphitrite	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 9422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
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- 14
�� You never answered my first
question.�

�� His pale eyebrows go up, and he
looks at me long and hard.� �You�re
intuitive, Lucius.� Figure it out.��

�� I stare at him.� The Muggle tourists are standing at the
fa�ade of the temple, ogling and taking pictures.� They truly do not see us.� He has no wand that I can discern; I don�t
know how he can keep us out of sight, unless the temple is warded.� There is some kind of magic here.

�� I break my stare with him.� A sudden feeling descends upon me, the
feeling of knowing that is just out of reach.�
There is something familiar about this place, about this man before me�

�� I remember in a vivid flash.� The old Malfoy Cemetery, on the far southwest
corner of the ancestral property�my great-great-grandfather�s mausoleum��

It was a Pantheon
of sorts, a tribute to ancient Gods, and a place I had spent much time in my
childhood.� Perhaps it was morbid, but
the mausoleum never felt like death to me.�
Rather, it had a curious, humming life about it; it was never dark, in
spite of the lack of windows, never dank or cold even though England is notoriously both�

�� My mother found me in the marble doorway one spring
day.� I was busily plucking the petals off
a yellow chrysanthemum.� They had so many
petals that it kept me occupied for a while, and when the wind stirred the pile
it blew them all into the mausoleum.�
They swirled around the old sarcophagus, whirring about like crazed
pixies until they settled at the foot of the worn stone.

�� So this is where you always disappear to,� she said
softly.

�� I like it here.��
I grabbed another mum, pink this time.�
I half expected an admonishment about the flowers, but she said nothing.� The petals were a vibrant magenta and the
wind pushed them about her legs as she walked into the mausoleum.

�� Did our relatives worship these gods?� I asked.� I knew nothing about them, but the carvings
and frescoes were full of fantastic scenes.

�� Worship?� she said, and I can hear the laughter in her
voice.� �You know a Malfoy worships no
one.�

�� That was true � I did know that.

�� No, your great-great-grandfather was a bit of a
character.� He claimed that these ancient
gods and goddesses were real, and that they visited him on a regular basis.�

�� I stared at her.�
So he was crazy, is what it amounted to.�
�And�no one had him checked into St. Mungo�s?� I asked.

�� She smiled, an unusual occurrence by that time.� �Don�t think they didn�t try.� They could never get a mediwizard or
mediwitch to declare him insane.� Aside
from his eccentric beliefs, he was completely normal � and twice as smart as
the rest of his relatives.�

�� Absorbing what she had said, I walked slowly around the
mausoleum.� One wall in particular caught
my attention.� It was a man, perfect in
looks and proportion, his naked, muscled back to us.� Strapped across it was a bow and arrows, and
in his left hand he loosely held a lyre.�
However, it was his face that riveted me.� I could only see half of it, by nature of his
pose, but even in his profile, I could see the dual parts of his nature.� He was equally benevolent and vengeful,
perfect and imperfect�I didn�t know how I understood this, but somehow I did.

�� Who is he?� I asked.

�� He was your great-great-grandfather�s favorite.� He is Apollo, god of the sun�among other
things.�

�� I nodded.� �How do
you know all of this about him?�
Great-great-grandfather, I mean.�

�� Oh, he left behind quite a few journals.� They make for interesting reading�in fact, I
read some of them when I was pregnant with you.�

�� Ah yes.� For the
last few months of the pregnancy she had been on bed rest, or so she was fond
of telling me whenever I gave her problems.�
Jokingly, she would say, �You were trouble before you even came out.��

�� May I read them?� I questioned.� It was summer break, and there was very
little to do.� I lived far from any school
friends or cousins; not that my father would have let me play with them
anyway.� Sometimes I would sneak away to
play with the muggle children, but I had not so far this summer.� I was too afraid that my father would find
out.

�� Of course,� she said.�
�I�ll find them when we get back to the house.�� She walked out of the mausoleum and stood
near the flowers, staring at something I could not ever see or understand.� I watched her for a few moments, wondering
how long she would be lost in her own thoughts.�
She snapped out of it quite abruptly, turning around and giving me a
fake smile.� �Are you going to stay out,
or come back with me?�

�I�ll come back
now,� I answered, brushing flower petals from my clothing.� Noticing the pink fragments, she added,

��Pick some of those chrysanthemums to put in a
vase in the sitting room.�� Then she
started back towards the house, which loomed so far across the lawns that it
did not even seem like it was ours.

I picked a dozen
of the flowers, pink and yellow and white, while I thought about what I might
read.� Would it be the ravings of a
madman, or would it be coolly logical?�
In my contemplation I was not paying attention to the flowers, and the
last one had a bee in it.� I gasped as it
stung me, dropping the other stems.� It
hurt, but not terribly, and I was transfixed by the bee.� It fell to the grass, twitching, and
eventually it went still.� I thought that
it was strange for God to make such a creature�a creature that could only sting
once.

A rustling noise
behind me broke my trance.� I whipped
around, the bee�s vacant flower still clutched in my reddening hand.� It was my mother.

�What
happened?� I thought you were going to
follow me.� Oh, you�ve been stung�does it
hurt?�

I shook my head
mutely, and did not hear any more of her words.�
I was looking past her.� Up on the
softly sloping hill that led to the Manor, there was a man.� It was him�the one from the frescoe.� It was Apollo.� He stood perfectly still and though he was
far away, I knew he was looking at me.

My mother was
scraping the stinger out of my hand.� I
wondered if the bee�s venom had somehow made me crazy.� Closing my eyes against the sharp pain as she
coaxed the stinger out, I willed him to disappear.� And he did; when I opened my eyes, there was
no one on the hill.� He was gone�if he
had ever been there in the first place.

�� Apollo.� You were really there that day.�

�� An expression of approval brightens
his face.� �Good memory.�

�� The realization makes something ugly
rear up inside me.� �Why did you never appear
to me after that?� My
great-great-grandfather asked you to protect my family.��

I had read as much in his journals during that long, boring
summer.� I had not believed any of it at
the time; he had no solid proof to offer and I had been raised only to trust
what I could see, feel, and touch.� But
the truth of that moment on the grounds many years ago was obvious now.� And it made me angry�angry in a way I had not
felt in a long time.

�I would say you have been a little remiss in that duty,� I bite off.� He was a god�a god!...he could have changed
things, made things different�at the very least prevented the suffering of my
brother and mother�

�� His expression turns hard.� �Are you dead?�

�� I shake my head.

�� Imprisoned?�

�� No.�

�� Insane?�

�� My eyes narrow.� �Sometimes I wonder.�

�� Does your son live?�

�� I nod.

�� And your line carries on?�

�� Yes.�

�� Then you are protected, my
ungrateful friend.�

�� I shake my head and sit down, my
legs dangling off the high wall of the temple.�
There is a pause between us.� After
a few moments he speaks again, his tone softened.

�� You did not want to see me.� You did not want to believe I was real.�

I say nothing.� I would have
believed anything, anything at all, if I was just given proof.� The quality or relevance of the proof did not
matter.� That was what had gotten me in
trouble so long ago�the desperation to believe that something in the
world made sense.

�We cannot become too involved in the affairs of mortals,� he
continues.� �I would have done more, if I
could have, but such things meet with disapproval.�

�� Exasperated, I ask, �Then why am I
here now?�

�� Well, for one thing, neither of us
is ready for you to be dead.� And for
another, this is an exceptional situation.�

�� Exceptional how?�� I turn to face him, my anger momentarily
cooled.

�� The school.�

�� I wince.� There are too many things in my head.� What does the school have to do with
anything?

�� You see, Lucius, there are a few
things you need to understand�you and I�we are not so different.�

�� What do you mean?�

�� For the first time, he looks like he
is at a loss for words.� He rubs his jaw,
thinking.� �Answer me this.� When you learn about the history of magic,
who do they tell you was the first true wizard?�

�� I roll my eyes.� �Merlin.�
Everyone knows that.�

�� He shakes his head.� �Wrong.�

�� Enlighten me, then, if 1500 years
of historical scholars are wrong.�

�� I will tell you what Merlin
was�Merlin was the first wizard to live and die among humans.� He was the first mortal wizard.�

�� I blink.� �Mortal�then you mean to say that there are immortal
wizards?�

�� You�re looking at one.�

�� If I thought my head was full
before, it is near to exploding now.�
�But�you�re a god�there�s a difference!�

�� No,� he shakes his head
emphatically, �there isn�t.�

�� A knock sounded at Draco�s
door.� It was early, but sleep had not
been easy in coming and he had spent the greater part of the morning laying
uselessly in his bed.� Groaning, he got
up, spent a second to smooth down his crazed hair, and opened the door.

�� Good morning.�� It was Cyrus.�
He had another man with him, a wiry, sun-weathered gentleman of about
fifty.

�� Good is debatable,� Draco mumbled,
standing aside to admit them.

�� Mornings are always good,� said the
newcomer in a slight accent.� �It means
you have lived to see another day.�

�� Yes, but it certainly is easier to
face the day when you�ve had a little sleep, Leo,� Cyrus said, casting Draco an
apologetic look.� The other man
shrugged.� He reminded Draco of a
stubborn uncle � not that he would know, because he had none.

�� Forgive my straightforwardness,
then,� Cyrus�s companion said.� �I am
Leonidas Andropoulos, but I have been told that is quite a mouthful, so you can
call me Leo.�

�� Draco shook his outstretched
hand.� �Draco Malfoy.�

�� Leo is here to assist with finding
your father,� Cyrus said.� �He is a
language expert.� I�m hoping he can find
a way to understand our werewolf so that we can know exactly what happened when
your father was attacked.�

�� Do you think it�s possible?� Draco
asked, his interest piqued.

�� Leo raised his bushy eyebrows.� �Anything is possible.� It is time that is the problem; I cannot say
how long it will take.�

�� Well, I would rather work against
the clock than do nothing.� I�m guessing
you need my assistance somehow?�

�� Cyrus nodded.� �Yes�there is something curious about the
school.� It has an extensive security
system, and in our exploration we discovered that the only one who could
properly deactivate it was your father.�

�� Draco frowned.� That was odd.�
What was it about his father that set him apart?� Draco tried to think of something, anything
about his father that made him different, but he drew a blank.� A pureblood? No, there were other purebloods
on the site.� A former Death Eater?� No, Snape was, too, and he could not operate
the security system.� He could think of
nothing else.

�� So we can only work with the rooms
he already opened?� he asked.

�� Cyrus and Leo exchanged a look.� �That may be the case,� Cyrus admitted.�� But we want you to come with us and try to
operate the security system. �We�re
hoping that maybe you�ll be able to do it, too.�

�� It makes no sense,� Draco said,
shaking his head.

�� Not much of this expedition has,�
Cyrus replied.� �Will you come with us,
though?�

�� Of course.�

�� All right.� We�ll give you a half hour to properly wake
up and get some breakfast.� Meet us by
the entrance.�� Cyrus and Leo stood and
moved toward the door.

�� No,� Draco said, reaching for the
t-shirt he had thrown off the night before.�
�Wait.� I�ll come now.�

�� Lupin watched her as she crouched by
the water�s edge collecting seashells.�
The girl � Lilith � seemed disinclined to stray too far from him.� He did not know why, but he could guess that
perhaps she thought the others were angry at her for hurting Lucius.� None of them were; he knew that for a
fact.� She was just a child, and no one
could blame her for what she had done under the moon�s influence.� Somehow, that blame only came after one
became an adult.� But of course he could
not convey that to her.

�� He chuckled as she found a shell
that was still occupied.� Surprised, she
dropped it, but then picked it up carefully and examined it.� Catherine, the mediwitch, had said that
biologically she was about twelve years old.�
It was amazing that in reality she was going on two thousand years old. �She had lost interest in the hermit crab,
apparently, for now she was slowly inching towards the entrance of the
school.� Nervously, she looked back at
him and he smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way.� She tentatively moved closer, and Remus
stood, stretching, and followed.

�� Lilith stopped about a yard from the
fissure.� Cyrus, Leo, and Draco were
walking towards them.� As they got
closer, she lost her courage and retreated behind him.� He understood; he felt a certain veiled
negativity from Cyrus in particular � the man did not like werewolves.� Amazingly, Draco had thus far been incredibly
calm and kind to Lilith.� He had not
expected that, but it was obvious that the Malfoy heir had changed a lot in the
last few years.

�� Good morning,� Remus said amiably
as they approached.

�� Good morning to you,� Leo returned.� �This must be Lilith.�

�� The girl peered out from behind his
arm at the mention of her name.� Leo
knelt down to her height, smiling, and said, �Kalimera.�� Her brow furrowed; she did not understand,
but some of her shyness evaporated.� Leo
was pleasant, and that was good since he was going to be spending a lot of time
with her.

�� The wiry man stood, brushing the
sand off his knees.� �She has taken quite
a liking to you,� he said, nodding at Remus.�
�You have a way with children.�

�� I doubt it has anything to do with
my �way�,� Remus said.� �She thinks I can
protect her.�

�� Leo shrugged, looking smug and like
he knew something that Lupin didn�t.�
Turning to Cyrus, he said, �Take me into the school.�

�� The three men moved off.� Lilith slowly moved to stand by his side.� Dumbledore had once made that same comment to
him during that fateful year he had taught at Hogwarts.� He hated hearing things like that.� He could never have children, no matter how
good a father he would make � not unless he wanted another person to suffer
like he had.� He couldn�t do that in good
conscience�he couldn�t.

�� Lilith tugged at his hand, and he
looked down at her.� She was smiling, and
a trifle mischievously at that.� She
began to pull him eagerly towards the shoreline a moment later.�� Merlin, the little thing was stronger than
she looked!� Or maybe he was just tired
from the Wolfsbane.� Remus shook his head;
he did not like going into the ocean, looking at it was quite enough for
him, he was not the best swimmer and these weren�t even his clothes�!

�� But it occurred to him that he was
not trying very hard to resist her.� It
was all right.� He had forgotten how
simple twelve could be.� By twelve, he
had already been more of an adult than many of his schoolmates.

�� The water was warmer than he thought
it would be.� He ducked under a small
wave, enjoying the floating sensation, and when he came up Lilith splashed
him.� Shaking the water out of his face,
he dove after her.� All told, he was
probably flopping around in a very uncoordinated and thoroughly amusing way,
but he did not care.� He was laughing in
a way he had not since those days of marauding and roughhousing with Sirius,
James, and even Peter�strange, awkward, deceitful Peter.

Lilith was laughing too, moving gracefully through the water to get
away from him.� He got the sense,
suddenly, that it was all right.� It was
going to be all right.�

Severus was awakened by a rough jab in the ribs.

�Oof�what?� he said groggily.

�You were snoring.�

It was too early in the morning for him to control his snark.� �Have you seen my nose prior to this
moment, dearest?�

Hermione laughed.� �I have.� Next time I�ll just punch you in the nose
instead of the ribs�maybe a good break would put your septum right.�

�I have heard you have a talent for breaking noses.�

�I can�t imagine where you heard that,� she said, smiling to herself as
she got out of bed.� This was going
better than expected.� She had tried,
really tried, not to wake him up, but snoring drove her crazy and it was almost
ten, anyway.� And even after a knock in
the ribs, he was being�sociable.

And why shouldn�t he be?� She had
spent half the previous night kissing him.�
Few men could argue with that.

Joeri nodded at Anatole and Nick as he walked past the breakfast
tables.� Anatole gave the large man a
quick wave.� Nick tried to say something,
forgetting that his mouth was full, which resulted in bits of food hitting the
table and his breakfast partner.� Anatole
laughed, wiping flecks of muffin off his chest.�
He could swear that he heard Joeri chuckling to himself.�

People at the site had gotten used to the presence of two muggles,
apparently.� No one questioned their
coming and going anymore, and some of the crew even greeted them and stopped to
talk to them.� Even Cyrus seemed to be
coming around slowly.� Though he had
asked them, rather curtly, �Don�t you two have jobs?�

They both did, but things were disrupted since the earthquake.� The restaurant that Nick�s family owned was
closed because part of the roof had caved in, and the office building Anatole
worked in still had no electricity or plumbing.�
So, really, there was nothing else to do but wander down to the beach
every day and continue to be amazed at everything that went on.

Nick looked up from the remnants of his muffin as Dawn passed by.� She had been quiet since the werewolf
attack.� It was obvious that she was
depressed over Lucius, but no one had really talked to her about it.� Draco was diligently looking for his father;
Hermione and Snape were engaged in their own decidedly wordless dialogue since
returning, and he was sure that Dawn was the furthest thing from their minds.

�Someone should try to comfort Dawn,� he said, brushing crumbs from his
lips.

�Go ahead,� Anatole said, shrugging.

Nick shook his head.� �I don�t
want it to seem like I�m trying to move in on her when Lucius is gone.�

�It won�t.�

�I don�t think it�s a good idea.�
Maybe you should talk to her.�

�Why should I comfort the woman that you like?�

�Just do it!� Nick barked, his fist thumping on the table.

�Fine!� Anatole said, rising from the table.� �Relax.�

Dawn looked up as Anatole took a seat next to her on the sand.

�Hey,� she murmured.

�Hey,� he replied.� �How are you
holding up?�

She shrugged.� �Ok, I suppose.�

�Nick was worried about you.�

A small smile lifted her lips.�
�Then why isn�t he here?�

Anatole rolled his eyes.� �He was
worried that people would think he was trying to make a move on you while
Lucius was missing and you were vulnerable.�

�Would he?� she asked, raising an eyebrow.

�No way.� He�s a loyal guy�even
to people that don�t like him, and vice versa.�

�Are you like that, too?�

Anatole looked at the sand.� �I
try to be.�

There was a silence, and then Dawn said, �You haven�t given up on
Hermione.�

�Would it do her justice if I did?�

�I don�t know.�

Another silence stretched between them.�
They were creating a fine mess, to be sure, with all these overlapping
infatuations�and they knew it.

�Do you miss Lucius?� he asked quietly.

Dawn nodded.� �I try not to.� I try to be strong.� It�s funny how you end up being just like all
the people you thought were ridiculous in their obsession with each other.� Though�I doubt the obsession goes both ways.�

�Why is that?� Anatole questioned, frowning.

�Draco - his son - told me he was a bit of a playboy.� Not really a one-woman man, if you know what
I mean.�

�That might be so, but it seems to me and Nick that he really cares
about you.�

�I�m sure he does�for now.�

Chewing his lip, Anatole thought for a few moments.� �I know Draco had his reasons to say what he
said, but I would leave the decision to Lucius.�
Don�t assume that he�s going to love you and leave you based on what
someone else thinks.� I guess�just trust
him.�

�Trust him?� she said with an odd laugh.� �I forget sometimes that you�re not a
wizard.� Let�s just say�that Lucius does
not really have the track record of a man that one should trust.�

�Then you might as well give up now.�

�It�s too late for that,� Dawn sighed.�
�I�ve tried not to love him, I really have.� But that sort of thing never works.�

It was Anatole�s turn to sigh.�
�I know.� I know.�

�This is the moment of truth, I suppose,� Cyrus said, sighing and
putting his hands on his hips.� Nothing
in any of the classrooms had been of much use; most were filled with nothing
but dust.� The best they had were the
labels on the magical creatures in the room they�d found Lilith in, and that
was not nearly enough for Leo to construct some rudimentary grasp of her
language.

�What if it doesn�t work?� Draco asked.�
The door before them looked solid and whatever was behind it was clearly
of some importance.� The security panel
glowed innocuously, and once again they were all amazed that it still worked
after so many years.

�Then we are stuck,� Leo said.�
�But stuck is not forever.�

Draco shook his head.� Stuck was
not forever, but death was, and he was beginning to lose his confidence in his
assertion that his father was alive.

�Well, here goes.�

He placed his hand over the glowing panel.� It scanned and scanned and scanned; he tried
to ignore the emotions that were cycling through him, but it was
impossible.� It was like all the things
he had feared when he was younger were returning.� Fear of inadequacy, of losing, of being able
to do nothing�nothing helpful, anyway.�
That was what had terrified him when he was a child.� It was partially his father�s doing; Lucius
Malfoy expected perfection, or as close to perfection as was humanly
possible.� He never raised a hand to
Draco, not once, but sometimes the fear and the guilt he exacted was worse.

He wasn�t like that anymore.�
God, he missed the bastard, and he�d spent no more than a day in his
company.� Draco�s hand was beginning to
feel heavy.� It felt like minutes were
passing, endless minutes.

Suddenly they were plunged into murky darkness as the light from the
panel went out.

�What does that mean?� Draco asked, barely resisting the urge to pull
his hand away.

�Stay still!� Cyrus urged.� �Give
it another moment!�

For a tense minute no one breathed.�
Then, mercifully, the old, heavy door began to move.

�Thank the Lord!� Cyrus nearly cried, looking happier than he had
looked in days.

�I don�t know how it works,� Leo said, shaking his head, �but it
works!�� He began to walk eagerly towards
the dark slice of floor that was now visible beyond the doorway.

�Wait!� Draco said.� �We don�t
know what�s in there.� It�s probably
nothing, but shouldn�t we have our wands out?�

�Yes, we should,� Cryus agreed, catching Leo by the arm.� �You first, Malfoy.�

Draco gave him a look but took out his wand.� He did not miss the fact that Leo had no wand
to draw; he was a squib, then.�

�All right.� Here goes.�� He toed the door open and stepped over the
threshold.� He was in a small, musty
hallway; he could see and hear nothing.�
After a few moments of stillness, he gestured for Cyrus and Leo to
follow.�

The hallway was long and claustrophobically narrow.� His eyes were watering from the dust and the
cobwebs.� Was there a room at the
end of this, or was it just a passage to somewhere else?

Draco stopped short when a sound tickled his ear.� Many sounds, actually; like several people
talking at once, but at different volumes.�
A dim light shone around the next corner.

�What do you think that is?� Draco whispered.

Cyrus looked at Leo; the squib shrugged, but did not look
frightened.� Feeding off his courage,
Cyrus murmured, �Let us find out.�

The two wizards lunged around the corner at the same time, wands raised
and spells ready.� But the room was
empty.� Empty, except for a large basin
on the far wall that had strange wisps of silver floating above it.

Leo was already one step ahead of them.�
�A pensieve!� he gasped, walking to it as if magnetically drawn.� �An early pensieve!�

Draco watched one of the silver wisps float away from the bowl.� An odd chill went through him as it began to
undulate and expand.� Faces were visible,
blurred and macabre in the mist, and whispers surrounded them.

�What is it doing?� Cyrus asked, alarmed.

�It is old,� Leo said, his voice still full of awe.� �Too old.�
The contents are becoming unstable.�

Life-size figures played out a memory around them, vague and shapeless
like ghosts.� They could not understand
the speech, but it was clear that it was not a pleasant memory.� It cycled twice; the three figures, two of
which were large and the other small, seemed to be arguing.� After two cycles, it began to dissipate.� Looking up, Draco spied a crack in the
ceiling.

�The memories are venting out,� he said, pointing.

�Incredible,� Leo murmured.

�There have to be cabins above this place�or at least there must have
been before the earthquake,� Cyrus said.�
He snapped his fingers a moment later.�
�Hermione!� Your friend Hermione
was having terrible nightmares before you arrived.� But I think�if these memories were filtering
into her cabin�they were not nightmares.�

�They were memories,� Draco finished.�
�What were they?�

�One was a little girl crying on the beach, and the other was the same
girl being attacked and killed by a werewolf.�
Or so we thought.�

�Then these must be the girl�s memories.� Lilith�s memories,� Leo said.� �If only they were not so degraded!�

�Maybe the ones that are still inside are intact,� Draco suggested.

Leo nodded.� �Yes.� I will find out.�

�Leo, you can�t just�� Cyrus began.�
But Leo had already stuck his nose nearly into the pensieve, and it was
clear that he was experiencing something.�
Whether or not that something was a coherent memory, they did not know.

He was standing next to Lilith.�
She was inside the door they had just unlocked, clinging to the frame
with white knuckles.� She looked highly
troubled; she was biting her lip so forcefully that Leo feared she might draw
blood.

Voices came to him.� Two men,
arguing.

�It has to be them, Ambrose.�

�I cannot let myself believe it. �How?�
How did they find us?�

�We have lost too many people in this fight.� We must disband the school!�

�Baltasar, we cannot go disbanding the school at the mere possibility
of danger!� These children need to learn
to control their abilities!�

�They cannot do that if they are dead, Ambrose!�

The other man�s voice rose in a dangerous rumble.� �Do not speak of it!�

�I must!� They spare no one.� No one!�

�There is no evidence that it is her parents!�

Leo started at the sound of someone pounding a fist on wood.

�You are not blind, Ambrose.�
Read her records.� This girl has
been to six different schools in the last year.�
Four of those schools had our compatriots working at them.� All four of them are dead, along with most of
their pupils!�

Leo�s eyes widened.� Lilith�s
parents � somehow they had been involved in all these killings?� Lilith�s eyes were filling with tears as she
peered around the corner.� Leo followed,
at last laying eyes on the two men.

The one called Ambrose was hunched over a desk, his hands balled into
fists.� The other, Baltasar, a huge bear
of a man, was pacing nervously.�
Ambrose�s face was pained when he at last looked up.

�How can I explain it to her?�

Baltasar stopped his pacing.� �I
know you love her like she is your own, Ambrose.� But you must know if she is part of it.�

�She is not.� She is too
innocent.�

�Even children can act.�

�She is NOT involved!�� His fist
thumped on the desk again.� �She has
lamented to me again and again how they would constantly uproot her from
schools.� All she wants is to learn.� She is too young to understand their
motives!�� Baltasar sighed.

�Nevertheless,� he said more gently, �you must speak to her about it.�

�It will break her heart,� Ambrose lamented.� �She has been asking me when she can go
outside�when she can see her parents again.�

Baltasar placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.� �My friend, she is probably better off with
you.� You have already done more for her
than many would have done.� Especially in
her�current state.�

After a moment, Ambrose nodded.�
�You�re right.�� Gathering
himself, he said, �This cannot go on.� I
would not be able to bear it if anything happened to our students.� Send notice to the parents and prepare the
children to go home.� As of this moment,
we are closed.�

Baltasar looked relieved.� �Thank
you, Ambrose, thank you!�� The large man
turned to exit the room, but stopped at the last moment.� �Once the children are gone�you should
probably retire to somewhere safe.� It is
you that they�re looking for�you and your recipes.�

�I know.�� He sighed.� �It is most unfortunate that people always
find a way to misuse our advances.�

Baltasar smiled wryly.� �Good
luck with Lilith.�

Ambrose shook his head and sighed.�
�I will need it.�

Leo looked back at Lilith.� She
had sunk down against the wall; tears were streaming down her face.� He wondered: how exactly did one tell a
little girl that her parents were murderers?

He did not get to find out, because a moment later the gut-wrenching
sensation of the memory ending pulled him away.

Cyrus caught Leo as he stumbled away from the pensieve; he could not
handle such strong magic the way a normal witch or wizard could, and it often
made him disoriented.� This time was no
exception.

�What did you see?� Draco asked.

Taking a deep breath and rubbing his temples, Leo replied, �Two men
arguing.� Their names were Ambrose and
Baltasar.� They were involved in running
the school and believed it was in danger�in fact, they believed that Lilith�s
parents were involved in a string of murders at other schools.�

Cyrus frowned.� �And Lilith?�

�They believed she was innocent of it all.� Just a pawn to get into the schools�to get
familiar.�

�Why were they killing people at these schools?� There had to be a reason,� Draco asked,
confused.

�Baltasar said something about recipes�I guess he meant potions.� Then Ambrose said that people were somehow
misusing their advances�so they must have created something that could be used
for good or for ill.�

�And those who wanted to use it for ill would resort to murder.�

Leo nodded.� �And not just
adults.� They said that the children were
killed, too.�

�Oh dear,� Cyrus sighed.� �It
would appear that we have stumbled onto an unknown war.�

Draco looked at his feet.� �Well,
Severus and Hermione both said that they were told that whatever was down here
was potentially world-changing.�

The three men were silent for a long time.

�There is only one solution,� Leo said after a while.

�What�s that?� Cyrus asked, looking tired.

�We must know more.�� Leo smiled
and then headed back to the pensieve for a second round.� ��
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Amphitrite