Six

Riddle Me This

Author's notes and disclaimers found in Chapter One.

Chapter Six

First think of the person who lives in disguise,

Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.

Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,

The middle of middle and end of the end?

And finally give me the sound often heard

During the search for a hard-to-find word.

Now string them together, and answer me this,

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?(1)

By early evening, however, Hermione's patience had worn thin, and she considered asking Penny for a Dreamless Sleep potion. Instead, she politely excused herself from her company, and resorted to stalking around Mut's Precinct, weaving in and out of the marked squares where Muggle archeology students were uncovering sherds and other fragments of a shared history. Hermione carefully avoided the cordoned off areas, and entered the recently erected drunken porch of Mut's temple, where annual bacchanalia were thought to have been performed in honor of the goddess during Pharaoh Hatshepsut's reign.

After an hour, Lucius joined her, and together they strolled along the avenue of the sphinxes toward Luxor. The temple complex was closed to the public, but their official badges concealed them from Muggle security. For some time, they wandered in amicable solitude through the ruins. The layout of the Luxor temple was astonishingly similar to that of the subterranean wizarding collegium. Hermione subconsciously correlated the two structures, and considered how much had yet to be unearthed below the Mut Precinct's sacred lake.

As the sun set, she and Lucius watched birds rising in flight from Isheru's shore to find roost for the night. Shortly thereafter, Lucius and Hermione found their way to the shack concealing the wizarding collegium. In perfect accord, they descended the staircase, mage-lights lighting their way. When they reached the subterranean ante-chamber, Lucius unsheathed his wand and cast a non-verbal Lumos. In a clockwise wave, mage-lights flared to life, illuminating the vast space. He then gestured for Hermione to precede him, and their steps were loud on the stone floor.

When they reached the magical barrier blocking the NotSphinx, Lucius asked, "How sure are you of your conclusion?"

Hermione stared at the barricade, and then glanced up at him. "Sure enough to risk my life."

"Then why are you waiting for Potter?"

"There are precautions to take for what happens after the confrontation."

"Such as?"

"Controlling the sphinx."

"It's not a sphinx."

"Oh, but Lucius, it is, and it isn't."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted as a white wisp flew down the staircase, surging and leaping toward Hermione. It resolved itself into a large stag whose antlers rendered it majestic. Lucius' eyes widened as the Patronus came to a halt in front of Hermione and bowed its head.

As always, Harry's Patronus spoke only to his intended recipient, and Hermione's smile as the stag dissipated into swirling mist made it clear the news was both expected and gratifying. After a contemplative moment, she pulled her wand and conjured her own Patronus for a reply. Her otter gamboled about the antechamber enthusiastically; it appeared to sniff at the magical barrier before it surged up the stairs and disappeared from sight.

"All right." She tossed her hair and took a deep breath and glanced at Lucius. "Ready?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

"Are you ready?"

Lucius blinked; his blue eyes curiously intent as he looked at her. "What did Potter say? I assume that was his Patronus."

"It was. He confirmed my conjecture and will send along reinforcements as needed. My reply will let him know they would be most appreciated."

"Reinforcements? Does that not exceed the scope of Gringotts' agreement to get Magical Law Enforcement involved?"

"Not at all, Lucius. These won't be human reinforcements."

"Goblin?"

She grinned. "I should've said they will be non-living reinforcements."

"Granger..."

"Hermione. If I have to call you Lucius, you have to call me Hermione."

"Don't hare off at a tangent, Hermione," Lucius said repressively. "What sort of reinforcements are you talking of, and is it wise to do this now rather than in the morning after you've slept and settled down a bit."

His reasonable objections tempered her elevated mood. "Do you honestly think I could sleep? Could you?"

He conceded the point, but then asked again, "What sort of reinforcements are you expecting?"

"A local representative of the ghost council. Perhaps more than one."

"You're so certain it's a ghost, then?"

"Oh, yes. It's a ghost."

"But not a sphinx?"

She smiled. "I told you before. It is and it isn't." Then, in an apparent tangent, Hermione asked, "You are a Legilimens, are you not?"

"I am modestly competent. Why do you ask?"

"The sphinx doesn't speak English, and she communicated with Severus telepathically. I thought you might be able to link with me when I confront her, and that way, if it all goes tits up..." Lucius choked at her use of the colloquialism, "...you'll already know what happened when she casts that Memory Charm on me." Hermione was so buoyed by excitement she couldn't keep still, and she grinned mischievously at Lucius, especially after his prudish reaction.

He narrowed his eyes and began to pace. "There is so much wrong with your statement I cannot begin to make head nor tail of it. First, I am not, with any degree of confidence, certain it is possible to side-along in your mind. Secondly, if it does all go tits up -- quaint phrase, by the way," he said the expression scornfully, but it didn't alter the impact of his concerns, "what is to say I won't be affected as a result of the mental link?" He stopped pacing and turned toward her.

"I hadn't considered that. I'm not a Legilimens, and my Occlumency is barely passable. If you think it too great a risk, we can abandon the idea and fall back on what Severus and I did. I wouldn't want to endanger you." Lucius glanced at her sharply, as if expecting her to be mocking him, but she was entirely serious. "I'd like to ask Penny to be on stand-by, and I need to retrieve my wand. You could stay with Penny until it's over..."

"Absolutely not!"

"Lucius, you don't have to..."

He rounded on her. "Hermione, I do not want you confronting this menace alone, no matter how many reservations I might have."

Unexpectedly, she liked him for his protectiveness, and was shocked by his having offered it to her. How polarized her opinion was now from what it had been when she first arrived. While Severus' good opinion might have been influential, it was also Lucius himself. "Chivalry is not, then, a thing of the past," she said lightly.

"I would like to think I have superior manners."

"I definitely appreciate your manners when they don't abandon me to a basilisk."

"Basilisk!" he exclaimed with some degree of alarm.

"No! Sorry. It's a figure of speech; a joke between Severus and me."

He resumed his pacing as Hermione drew her willow wand. He gestured. "With that in hand, Hermione, why, may I ask, do you need to retrieve your wand?"

"Oh, dear," she said, "I forgot you don't know. My wand..."

"Of course," he said as his posture stiffened; they both remembered the events that occurred at Malfoy Manor. "Your wand..."

She interrupted him, "...was left behind during our escape. Mr. Ollivander made this one the following summer."

"How many more pitfalls are we likely to stumble into if we choose to continue our affiliation?" he asked, discomfort expressed on a discordant tone.

"I imagine they'll all be unexpected. Minerva reminded me of that." With a flick of her willow wand, Hermione silently cast the summoning charm she had taught Harry for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. "Before we continue, you need to know about my other wand."

Lucius' brow furrowed, but when an eerily familiar length of walnut sailed into Hermione's hands, all good manners were forgotten and his mouth hung open in astonishment.

"I use it professionally," she said.

He choked. "I beg your pardon?"

"It has an affinity for Dark things, objects, curses, locations."

"How long have you –?" He stiffened and grew silent; his question unfinished.

For the first time since she had hexed him in the tent, Hermione grew wary. "Unexpected pitfalls, remember? You and I don't have the easiest history to overcome, do we? Perhaps the idea of a collaboration between us was ... er ... too idealistic?"

His expression was thoughtful. "I suspect we have seen one another at the lowest points of our lives."

"I still have nightmares," she said.

"As do I."

"Perhaps we could use that as common ground?"

"You are most generous." He inclined his head.

She fingered the curved shaft of Bellatrix's former wand, repressing a shudder at its feel. Even after a decade it resisted her use. "Severus was the one who suggested I use it for this."

"He knows about Bellatrix?"

Hermione knew Lucius wasn't referring to the wand itself, but the entirety of the circumstances under which it had come into her possession. "Yes."

Lucius' eyes flicked to her left arm. "Draco was violently ill after your rescue."

She smiled grimly. "As was I."

"He had nothing like your reason."

"As I recall, he only ever wanted your good opinion."

Fleetingly, the windows to his soul revealed his agony, and Hermione was not unmoved. She stepped next to him, her face set into determined lines. It made her appear older. "I want you to have your son back. I want Bill to see his son being born. I want Penny..."

He interrupted her. "And you want Severus back."

"I do. And so do you."

"He is my closest friend." Lucius stared at her hard. "That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Not if you don't make it one."

"If you cure my son, Miss Granger..."

"Hermione." She smiled at him. It was small, but genuine.

His mouth curved in response. "Hermione."

"If you wouldn't mind talking to Penny, Lucius, there's something I'd like to do first." He nodded as if he already knew her plans. "Thank you," she said.

As Lucius strode to the staircase and surface Hermione turned her steps toward the hypostyle and the infirmary beyond. When she passed the small room where Edouard and Ali slept peacefully, she glanced at the two men before continuing on her way. Bill and Cormac appeared just as they had when Hermione first arrived in Egypt, and she swallowed her repressed emotion at seeing them lying motionless, her gaze lingering on the curse stigma discoloring Bill's face. Her destination was the adjoining room which Severus now shared with his godson. Since last seen, Draco's pale blond hair had been braided as had Severus', evidence of the care Penny lavished on her charges.

Hermione stepped next to Severus' bed and took his unresponsive left hand in hers. Gently, she traced his long fingers, feeling each scar, proof of his masteries in both potions and Dark Arts. The abrasions on his knuckles were almost completely healed after repeated applications of Murtlap essence. She stared at Severus' prominent Roman nose and his black eyebrows, envying his ridiculously thick eyelashes. In stasis, he appeared younger than his fifty years, but there would never be any denying the hard life he had lived. Her heart ached, and she swallowed against the sudden and overwhelming urge to cry. She placed Severus' hand once more on top of the covers, and then delicately glided her finger over his brow and the jutting ridge of his nose, lingering over the pliable shape of his mouth.

More than almost anything, she wished he would open his eyes and look at her. "I miss you," she murmured, and then swooped, brushing a kiss across his unresponsive lips before leaving the room to face the coming conflict.

Of course, Penny had refused to wait in the tent.

When Hermione returned to the antechamber, Lucius was practicing his most unctuous persuasion to an unreceptive audience.

"No, Lucius." The healer firmly stood her ground. "I will be safe in Severus' lab, and I will be near in case of an emergency." Then she held out one hand; in its palm were two dark green vials. "Here, take these. It's called Boost; it will give you approximately eighteen hours of peak mental and physical performance."

"I've never heard of it." Hermione accepted the potion with gratitude.

"It's a trade secret," Penny handed the second bottle to Lucius. "I doubt even Severus knows about it."

Hermione offered a toast to her companions before swallowing the vial's contents in one mouthful. Lucius chuckled when she grimaced, his amusement entirely at her expense. She stuck out her green-tinted tongue, and laughed when he, too, expressed his displeasure at the horrid flavor.

"I know it tastes dreadful," Penny said, "but it's efficacious. Most healers carry a small supply with them."

"This is rather ... quite ... remarkable, really." Hermione bounced on the balls of her feet, suddenly filled with all the eagerness of Weasley men at the prospect of a game of Quidditch. She grinned at the others and drew Bellatrix's wand.

"Good luck," Penny said, and then sighed heavily. "I hate waiting and feeling useless."

Hermione suggested Penny sort ingredients for the papyrus-under-glass potion, and was rewarded with a quick, hard hug.

Watching the healer depart, Lucius muttered, "Optimist." He spun to face the magical barrier and drew his wand.

"I've always seen you as an elegant man," Hermione commented, privately amused when he preened at the compliment, "and yet, your choice of wand is surprising."

He twirled the silver-chased length of ebony she had seen him wield so often recently. "Do you think it effeminate?"

"Not necessarily," she hedged.

To her surprise, he teased her. "Where is the bluntness I have come to expect from you?"

"It's not really my business."

"Then why mention it at all?"

She laughed a little shakily. "Nerves."

He smiled knowingly, and then said a little wistfully, "It was Narcissa's wand."

"Oh." Hermione's paradigm, which had altered significantly since she'd arrived in Egypt, suddenly completed its parabolic shift. "I am sorry."

Lucius stiffened. "I do not appreciate insincere condolences."

"It's not insincere," she said heatedly. "I am terribly sorry for your loss. Anyone could see how close you were. You and I may not have agreed on many things..." she shrugged, "...or even most things, but your wife's death is a tragedy I don't wish on anyone."

He cleared his throat. "My mistake."

"Apology accepted." She settled into a dueling stance. "Are you ready?"

He shifted into position, two steps behind and three to her left; perfect placement in case things went awry. "Do you plan to let me in on your little secret before you fling yourself directly in harm's way?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Minerva McGonagall is a master of transfiguration." Lucius was a clever man, and when his eyes widened, she laughed. "Obvious once you have the right piece of the puzzle, isn't it?"

Astonishment, fury, and perhaps despair warred for prominence in Lucius' manner, and Hermione watched him control the tumultuous emotions. "How did we not know?" he finally asked.

"These are anomalous circumstances. It took the combined efforts of four diligent and competent wizards to eliminate other possibilities before this one seemed credible. And because the covenant has been adhered to for centuries. Unless I miss my guess, there will be an example made of this case."

He looked in the direction of the barrier and then at Hermione. "You may be right."

"Shall we?"

"Are you certain you want to do this?" he asked.

"Yes." Hermione faced him, staring directly into his pale blue eyes.

Lucius raised his wand. "Legilimens!"

His presence in her mind was entirely different than Severus' had been. Despite his modesty, Lucius was an excellent Legilimens. He did not wander through her memories, keeping his connection light and at the forefront of her mind. Nevertheless, Hermione exerted herself to ignore the double vision caused by having him as a mental passenger.

"Our wards first," she said. "Three, two, one." With a flick and a swish, the double wall of security spells they had cast earlier that day disintegrated in a swirl of gold and silver smoke. The taint from Bellatrix's wand slithered into Hermione's awareness.

Hermione took a deep breath, quelled her nerves and incipient nausea, and with a wave of the Dark wand, she repeated the exact sequence of motions she had watched in Severus' mind two days before. Her casting was spare and elegant, and one by one she dismantled the protections between her and the anomalous creature that had directly condemned four men to a slow and painful death.

Before countering the last spell, one of Severus' own devising, Hermione tested the connection to Lucius. It was there, strong and supple in her mind.

She gritted her teeth and flexed her wrist. The final shield tumbled to the sandstone floor like a waterfall cascading off a cliff, spraying magical sparks as the defensive charm evaporated into the ether.

Although prepared for a confrontation, Hermione nevertheless recoiled as the transparent sphinx spread leapt forward, its wings spread to their full extension. It focused on Lucius. Hermione side-stepped quickly, drawing attention to herself.

The sphinx pivoted, roaring its challenge at Hermione. Within seconds, the intimidating creature connected directly with Hermione's mind, abruptly terminating her mental link to Lucius. "You are trespassing, woman." The creature's accent was strong, but her words comprehensible. She made a disparaging, dismissive gesture toward Lucius. "Why do the bidding of the Tainted One?"

Hermione ignored the diverting gambit. She concentrated, projecting clearly in thought and words, "We -- I need the cure for the curse you placed on my friends."

The sphinx's smile was as ugly as the one Hermione had seen in Severus' memory. "You refer to those marked by the Betrayer as friends?"

"The Betrayer?"

There was no answer to Hermione's question. If anything, the sphinx's mood darkened, and the antechamber's temperature dropped by several degrees. Her expression became sly. "If you wish to acquire the cure you seek, you must first win the right. You must answer my riddle correctly."

"All right. I'll answer your riddle." Hermione replied mentally, and vocally for Lucius' benefit.

A blast of confusion flooded Hermione's mind, and then the following questions tumbled over one another in quick succession. "Do you not wish to know how many have come before? Or how many have been successful? Do you not wish to ask what their answers have been? Or how they failed?"

"Not really." Hermione kept her Dark wand trained on the sphinx. "I'd rather get down to business. I have a cure to administer."

The sphinx snarled; spectral saliva dripped from fangs protruding beyond the human lips of the ghost's mouth. "So be it." The heavily accented words echoed harshly in Hermione's brain. "Answer this if you can:

"Womanly features, yet my claws gouge mine enemy

Leonine in form, yet my wings carry me to safety."

It was the same riddle.

Hermione hid her relief. The sphinx's riddle matched the challenge issued to Severus, confirming Hermione's conjecture. It meant that while the others' answers were all true, they had been insufficient.

Weighing her conclusion a final time, Hermione glanced sidelong at Lucius. He was a formidable sight. His stance was perfectly balanced; Narcissa's ebony wand was held lightly in his hand, and his expression was lethal. Hermione had no doubt he would avenge her if necessary. She smiled, surprised by a sudden spurt of affection for the blond wizard she had once hated so bitterly.

Unaware of the byplay, the creature demanded, "Your answer, woman."

Hermione settled her weight on the balls of her feet, just in case, and took a deep breath. Once again she replied verbally and mentally. "The answer to your riddle is two-fold. You are a witch..." triumph radiated from every ethereal line of the sphinx's form, and then Hermione completed her answer, "...and you are an animagus."

The ghost screamed as if she had been cut down by an Unforgiveable, but Hermione held tight to the mental connection, wincing even as the shriek reverberated like the crash of cymbals in her head. Beside her Lucius flinched, but he held steady, the light of success gleaming in his pale eyes.

Hermione said, "Please let me pass." The softly wailing sphinx moved toward her privileged domain. Hermione followed her, asking, "In addition to the cure I seek, will you answer another question?"

"You have vanquished me."

"You must know that you violated the ghosts' governing covenant; doesn't that make you subject to reprisal?"

The sphinx seemed to shrink. Her shoulders hunched, and she folded her wings tight to her body as she backed into the well-kept west hallway. Hieroglyphics depicting scholarly research conducted by both men and women were chiseled and painted on the walls. Here and there were images of early wizards and witches wielding short sticks, but Hermione didn't pause to look.

"I was tricked," the sphinx said.

"That's dreadful. Was it the Betrayer who tricked you? Was he also a ghost? Perhaps we can report him to the ghost council."

The ghost snarled then, and her fangs shimmered in the mage-light, appearing more ominous than ever. "The Betrayer was a live-one. Like that one there." The ghost gestured at Lucius. "He bears the mark."

"Are you saying he bears the Betrayer's mark?" Suspicion took root in Hermione's mind.

The sphinx moaned. "I cannot bear this ... he forced this existence on me."

"You're an animagus. Why don't you transform back?"

"My knowledge was stolen." Suddenly the sphinx roared and leapt forward, but Hermione refused to give ground. Hermione's teeth chattered when the apparition impacted with her. After several seconds, during which Hermione thought she might freeze, quite literally, the sphinx backed up, "The Tainted One cannot enter here. He has not paid the price."

Hermione turned; Lucius was closer than before. A case of surreptitious creeping. It would have been amusing in any other circumstances, but not then. However, his expression was fierce, his jaw clenched. "I'm all right, Lucius," she called out, "but the sphinx wants you to wait. I think there's more to the story than we have deduced."

He snorted, halting in his tracks. "Do not befriend her, Hermione, and do not go beyond my line of sight."

"Thank you," Hermione said before turning back to the ghost. "Please don't attack him. He said he would wait as long as he could see me."

"You cannot trust his kind."

"Once I would have agreed with you, but his son is in the other room, and he would never jeopardize anything that would protect or cure his child. Will you show me what I need for the cure?"

"You've answered the riddle correctly, woman. You have been granted access to my library." She had reached the doorway at the end of the corridor, and seemed to regain some of her earlier haughtiness. "It does not grant you my assistance."

Hermione conjured her bluebell flames, and followed the sphinx into the pitch black room. She spun the flames into a ball of light and levitated it into the vast room beyond the ghost. "Oh!"

She had understood it was a library.

But she had never seen a library like this, not even at Hogwarts.

Hermione stepped into the vast room, breathing reverently. The chamber was at least as large as the forecourt, and shelves had been carved into the walls in a series of cross-hatched alcoves. Scrolls upon scrolls were heaped in the declivities. In the center of the room two rows of stone tables, similar to the mustaba Severus had used for his potions workbench, ran parallel to the long sides of the library. In all likelihood there were thousands of scrolls in this ancient archive.

An image of Severus' sleeping face and Fleur's heart-broken sobbing settled in her mind. It could take years to find the other half of the antidote. Then she remembered the sphinx's comment about her knowledge having been stolen.

"I could help you," Hermione offered.

The sphinx hissed. "That is what he said. I do not wish the assistance of a Betrayer's minion."

Certainty of the Betrayer's identity hovered at the edge of Hermione's mind, but she only said, "I do not bear any mark." When the sphinx hesitated, Hermione followed up on her momentary advantage. "What if I help you first? Then you could show me what I need to counter the curse."

The sphinx lowered her magnificent head, and her braids swung forward, the beads clattering almost musically. "That would be acceptable."

Fervently hoping the spell would work on a ghost as well as a wizard, Hermione raised her wand to cast the charm she had first seen in the Shrieking Shack during her third year at Hogwarts, when Remus Lupin discovered Sirius Black was not the mass murderer he'd been led to believe for fifteen years. A bolt of white light struck the ghostly specter. She shrieked; her wings absorbed quickly into her shoulder blades while her paws transformed into dainty hands and feet. The animagus' body shrank and straightened, altering until a petite Egyptian woman dressed in a linen garment draped across one shoulder but baring the opposite breast stood before Hermione. Silvery tears streaked down the woman's cheeks.

"Mut bless you," she said ardently, turning her hands over and over, touching fingers to her face, twisting to see that she had no tail or wings.

Hermione smiled and turned to wave at Lucius. He rolled his eyes, and she was sure he said something about Gryffindors, but she couldn't really hear him.

"You have gained my assistance. I will show you what you seek." The ghost floated toward the center of the library to one of the stone tables. It was the only one which had been in use.

Hermione trailed behind her, angling as best she could to remain in Lucius' line of sight, but she could only see his boot.

Suddenly, the ghost wailed and the hairs on Hermione's arms stood on end. "What's wrong?"

"That is the Betrayer's table. Those are the things he used until the night he erased my memory and disappeared. I had believed him sincere. He was respectful of the knowledge I protect."

The suspicion bloomed into awful comprehension. "Did you know his name?"

"Of course I knew his name!"

"Was it Tom Riddle?" The sphinx didn't react, and then Hermione tried, "or perhaps Lord Voldemort?"

The ghost screamed in anguish and fury, Hermione heard Lucius' feet pounding in the hallway; she whipped around and dashed to meet him. "No, Lucius!"

He skidded to a halt, the curse on his lips breaking off mid-cast, his chest heaving as he regained control. "What the hell is going on?" he asked, furiously.

"I believe we've found another of Tom Riddle's victims," she said quietly, even though the animagus' sobs easily covered Hermione's words.

"By all that's holy," he muttered, "will it never end?"

From behind Hermione, snatches of unintelligible ancient Egyptian phrases were screamed, and as a result of the mental link Hermione still had with the ghost, she caught bits and pieces: "rend ... faithless ... duped ... betrayer."

Greatly daring, Hermione touched Lucius' arm – his left arm. "I don't think she's terribly ... er ...stable."

He snickered. In anyone else it would have been a more plebeian sound. "A not insupportable assumption."

"She's agreed to help me find the cure, and perhaps she might tell me more than we expect. But, Lucius, you cannot enter the library. I don't know what she'd do to you."

He looked down at her upturned face. "Is that concern? For me?"

"Yes," she said simply.

His color heightened, but he asked lightly enough, "What will I tell Severus?"

"I'll happily tell Severus everything. You're his friend, and I can't save him only to tell him that you were shredded to little tiny bits by a vengeful ghost."

Some of the tension flowed out of him. "I will wait here. I do not like that I cannot see you."

"I promise to scream like a girl if I need you." Suddenly the banter was no longer light-hearted, and he winced. "Sorry," she said.

"I had a family to protect, but none of my family enjoyed hearing you scream."

"Bellatrix did."

"I do not consider her family."

The wails from the library had faded to the sounds of a woman crying, and Hermione straightened her shoulders. "Once more unto the breach," she murmured.

"Be careful."

"Thank you," she said and re-entered the library.

The ghost hovered above Tom Riddle's research table, ectomorphic splotches of silver dotted some of the papyrus scrolls, but the ghost seemed wholly unaware of it, so lost was she in her misery.

Hermione's mental tone was gentle, and the link grew stronger the closer she drew to the table and the ghost. "That's what Voldemort did. He abused people's trust. He wanted power and control and immortality."

"Where is he? Tell me," the ghost demanded. "I wish to repay him for all his kindness."

"He's dead," Hermione said. "He killed and injured a great many people, and was defeated eight years ago." She was taken aback by the viciousness of the ghost's expression, but then again, she herself had probably worn the same expression when Bellatrix Lestrange fell to Molly Weasley's curse. Hermione had been disappointed not to have been the one to do it, but incredibly glad the malignant wretch was dead.

While their minds were still linked, Hermione asked, "Will you please tell me where to find the cure I seek?"

The ghost raised her arm and drifted lower, closer to the table, so that her transparent hand lay atop the uppermost papyrus. "Here. I cannot help you find the other sheet. The Betrayer stole it, but without this any attempt to heal the afflicted will fail."

Carefully, Hermione slid the ancient papyrus off the pile of other valuable artifacts. As she rolled it into a scroll, she noted its pliability and tucked it up her sleeve. The scratchiness was somehow comforting. "Thank you," she said and meant it.

"It must be applied within twelve moon cycles to be effective." Then the ghost screamed. "I taught him! I gave him the secrets of my domain. I believed he came to share my burden, but he was faithless!"

"An oath-breaker." Hermione agreed.

"Yes!" The ghost sounded as if she were still in her animagus form and hissing like a large, predatory cat.

"He didn't deserve your generosity."

"He abused my trust. He left me ... trapped in the dark. I know not for how many moon cycles, but I am in your debt, woman."

"And you have upheld your end of the bargain. I'm terribly sorry you were taken advantage of."

The ghost rose in the air, her tears leaving silver trails across her cheeks.

Hermione decided to press her luck. "Earlier, you mentioned a mark. Will you tell me what you meant?"

"This?" the witch said, and turned away from Hermione separating her multitude of braids to reveal a dark tattoo at the base of her neck. It was a hieroglyph, and one Hermione recognized from the temple above ground.

"Mut?" she whispered.

"All who devoted themselves to the collegium were marked."

"Is there a way to remove the tattoo?"

The ghost angled her head haughtily. "Those who served the Betrayer do not deserve such release."

Hermione said, "Some did not want the mark, and were branded nonetheless."

The ghost's eyes widened. "They were marked against their will?"

"Some. I would help them if I could." She pulled memories of Draco's sixth year to the forefront of her thoughts. Of his insurmountable task, and the ultimatum he faced should he fail. Of his deteriorating condition over the course of the year. Of his desperation to save his family.

"You know that man?"

"He was the first you cursed."

The ghost drifted toward the floor, her expression puzzled. "I do not understand. Why did he seek the cure when he had yet to suffer my retribution? Is he a Seer? Oooh," she wailed. "It is bad luck to curse a Seer."

"He is not a Seer," Hermione practically shouted the words in her mind. "His mother was cursed by the Betrayer. That same curse and he was desperate to save her life."

If possible, the ghost became more transparent than ever. "My fault, my fault!" she cried and flew around the library, darting between tables and around the columns holding the ceiling in place. "I revealed all my secrets and he perverted them."

Hermione watched the unhappy spirit until she calmed sufficiently to slow down and drift back toward the Betrayer's table. Hermione had the impression the ghost spent most of her time at the table, as if picking at a scab which would not heal. "You could help others he betrayed."

The sphinx glanced up, her eyes welling with silvery tears.

Hermione asked, "Will you tell me if the mark can be removed?"

"If those who wear it repudiate the responsibility of their pledge, it can be removed. You see, it is a mark of the faithful."

Hermione blinked rapidly, her thoughts in a jumble. Foremost was the hope that removing the mark could save Severus if the cure was ineffective. He certainly wasn't faithful to Voldemort. Beyond helping Severus, Hermione dare not think. "Will you show me?"

The ghost stared at Hermione for a long time. Then she said, "You have received the treasure for which you answered my riddle, and I am not bound by my nature as a sphinx to aid you now." Hermione searched her mind for a convincing argument, but the ghost spoke over her chaotic thoughts. "You were not required to reverse my form. It was an act of kindness, and I sense it is in your nature to be kind. What you ask of me now may balance my error in judgment."

"I don't have the words to tell you how grateful I would be."

The ghost smiled, and it was no longer intimidating or terrifying. "The mark can be removed by an incantation. It is empowered by the desire of the caster." She reached for the pouch hanging from the belt at her waist, and withdrew a short, slender reed. Hermione correctly deduced it was the ghost's wand. The ghost waved it in an inward spiral. "This is the motion. Intent is what gives the incantation its power. The one who wishes to remove the mark must also say, kafir at the beginning of the spiral, so that the belief dwindles to nothingness at the end."

"Can you demonstrate?"

"It would not work for me. I still believe."

"I see," Hermione replied. "Thank you –"

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a bright light spun into the vast library, a wisp forming into the antlers and head of Harry's Patronus. His voice echoed in the room. "We're here." The temperature in the library dropped; within seconds Hermione was shivering with cold, her teeth chattering, lips blue. She spun around, looking frantically for the cause.

The ghost, floating next her, collapsed to the metaphorical ground, weeping uncontrollably.

The ghost council had arrived.

~o0o~

End-notes:

1. The answer is spider. This riddle may be found on page 629 of the American edition of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Harry Potter may not pass the sphinx guarding the maze until he answers her question.