Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

The dawn came, cold, crisp, and clear, heralding blue skies with no trace of snow in the offing. Hermione was tired of puzzling over Aberon's cryptic list, and feeling a little stir-crazy. She went out into the garden with Grim in tow. It was good for him to get outside.

Three times around the perimeter of her garden was almost exactly one kilometer. She set off briskly, Grim lagging half a pace behind. With his leg and ribs mended, he no longer staggered with every step, and she was no longer afraid of him falling. He was wearing the new clothes she'd bought for him – jeans, flannel shirt, and half-boots. With his hair neatly combed and pulled back into a tail, he looked somewhat younger than his nearly forty years.

Once well into her stride, her mind returned to the current set of problems. She'd chosen to use the Amorata potion, the strongest love potion she had been able to find. She figured she could deal with loving Snape – it didn't mean she had to act on it. The effect normally lasted three days, although allowing the potion to "age" could lengthen the duration. Aging also increased the potency. A freshly brewed dose would bring on feelings of warmth and attraction. A dose brewed a week ago invoked desire and love. A month-old dose would bring on a mix of raging lust and slavish devotion. She'd brewed the potion three days ago.

So – the list. Between the three of them, they could probably figure out who should be there. Then it would be a matter of figuring out Aberon's mnemonics. Once the first one or two were solved, it should be relatively easy to figure out the rest. And there might be clues in the rest of the notes. She would have to read over them carefully.

After six laps around the garden, she returned to the house ready to tackle the list. Harry and Bill were still sound asleep, judging from the snores that emanated from the guest room. She grinned and put the teakettle on, and settled Grim in "his" chair – a black leather recliner that she'd bought from a local shop. While she waited for the water to boil, she picked up Aberon's notes again and began rereading them.

The snores cut off abruptly when the teakettle shrilled, and by the time the tea was ready, two bleary-eyed wizards had emerged and were slouched at the table. Obviously, neither was going to be fit company until they'd had their morning tea, and probably some breakfast. Her instincts were correct. It was nearly two hours later when they sat down in the living room and began reading over the notes. Harry made himself comfortable on the sofa opposite the fireplace and started with the first stack, looking for anything that Hermione might have missed. Bill took the list of the Soulstruck who'd been auctioned and the third stack of notes, and spread them out on the coffee table. Hermione picked up the next-to-last stack where she'd left off and perched comfortably on the arm of the sofa.

"I may not be able to figure out Aberon's puzzles yet," Bill said after fifteen minutes, "but I'll stake everything I own that this list here wasn't all written out at once. The first few names are, but after that the ink changes with almost every entry. I'd bet he added the names as he completed each spell over time."

Harry put down the notes he was reading and went over to look at the list, reading over Bill's shoulder.

"They're not anagrams, that I can make out," Bill continued. "I thought they might be initials – like Weird Pretty Poison would be someone whose initials were W.P.P. – but I can't think who would have those initials."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Maybe they're invisible idiots."

"What?" the other two chorused. Hermione put down the notes she was reading and stared at him.

"It's a game I learned a long time ago... it's easiest to explain it by example. You've heard the phrase 'out of sight, out of mind'?" At their nods, he went on. "Another way to say 'out of sight' is 'invisible'. Another way to refer to someone being out of his or her mind is 'idiot' – don't interrupt, Hermione. It's like charades – you can use words that sound the same, anagrams, you can define syllables independently, and so on."

"Sounds horridly confusing." Bill said

"And not at all sensible," added Hermione.

"But don't you see, given the nature of the list, Aberon would want to confuse anyone else. All he wanted was something to jog his memory." Harry pointed to the thirty-third name on the list. "Self-loving Faith. Self-love is narcissism..."

"Malfoy is French for bad faith!" Hermione gasped. "So that's Narcissa Malfoy! Harry – how on earth did you figure this out?"

"Dudley got a book of puzzles for a birthday present once. He didn't want it, but I read it."

Bill waved the list to recapture their attention. "So which one is, um, Grim and which is Cain?"

"We may have to do this by process of elimination," Harry said. "We can probably figure out what most of the names are. Then we just have to match them up."

"Draco Malfoy..." Hermione mused. "Would Draco be Little Dragon or Rude Custard Ferret?"

"I've just had an epiphany," Bill said slowly. "Gigi the younger is Greg Goyle, Jr."

"Excellent," Harry applauded. "You're getting the hang of it."

"Ebony Follower – sounds like one of the Blacks – but the only one who was Soulstruck is Bellatrix, and her name is LeStrange now," Hermione drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. "Besides, I can't figure out how he'd get 'follower' out of 'Bellatrix'."

"Unless he was referring to her being a follower of Voldemort," Harry answered.

"Argh!" Bill threw up his hands in frustration.

"Let's see if we can put names to the thirty-four who were auctioned," Hermione said.

"Walden MacNair, Greg Goyle, Jr., Vincent Crabbe, Sr., all three of the Malfoys, Sandar Rosier and his twin cousins..." Bill began.

"The three LeStranges, the Wilkes brothers – what are their first names, Hermione?"

"Ezekiel and Zachariah." She shook her head, jotting quickly. "I wouldn't give either of those names to my kids. That's fourteen."

"Grim and Cain, Randall Bulstrode, Pettigrew." Bill contributed.

"Septimus Grayle makes nineteen." Hermione said.

"Pansy Parkinson and her father. Also what'shisname – Avery. That gives us twenty-two."

"Hildebrandt Avery," Bill thought for a moment. "There's also Mulciber – can't remember his first name though."

"Who was that Slytherin a few years ahead of us? I can visualize the face, but can't put a name to it. I think he was in ... Cain's year. Maybe a year ahead of him." Harry grimaced. "It's getting harder."

"Don't forget Stebbins and Sloper."

"Right. The Mutt and Jeff of the Death Eaters. If we count the Slytherin we can't remember, we have twenty-six."

A brief pause ensued while they racked their brains. Finally Hermione said, "Let's look at what we have and try to make some matches. We're almost positive that Gigi the younger is Greg Goyle, Jr – and Self-loving Faith is Narcissa Malfoy."

"Could Very Elder Shellfish be Vincent Crabbe, Sr.?" Harry asked.

"Seems likely. I'll bet Septimus Grayle is Seventh Chalice." Hermione made quick notes.

"Of course! Septimus means seventh, and a chalice is a grail."

"Merlin's teeth, these are evil!" Bill groused. "I think I've figured out Lucius Malfoy – he's Light Satanist."

"Draco is probably Little Dragon," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I'd be surprised if Aberon knew about him being turned into a ferret in fourth year, so Rude Custard Ferret doesn't really apply."

Harry tossed the list onto the table. "What we have is a bunch of guesses. We don't know who is who, and we can't afford to be wrong."

"I've got an idea..." Bill said slowly. "I don't know if it would work or not though."

"Any consequences if it doesn't work?" Hermione asked.

"Not that I can think of." He jerked his head toward Grim. "Ask him to pick out his jar. Do it two or three times, and see if he picks the same jar every time. If he does, I'll bring Cain over here and try it with him."

"You think they might be able to recognize themselves?" Harry asked.

"I don't think it will hurt to try it. If nothing else, it'll give us a break from trying to figure out Aberon's confounded invisible idiots."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think it'll work, but it's not going to hurt anything to try it." She rose and began setting the Souljars out on the table at random. "He's like a five year old. I have to tell him everything."

"Now that's odd," Bill said. "Is it that you 'have' to tell him everything, or that you 'are' telling him everything?"

She paused, one hand holding the last jar. "That first night, I had to tell him everything. I guess I assumed it would be like that always."

"He was in pretty bad shape that night," Harry said. "Maybe he did need it then. But he might not now."

"If Cain watches me do a simple thing like making tea, he remembers how to do it. Then I only have to tell him to make himself a cup of tea." Bill got up and looked down at the jars. "Should I relabel these to match the lids?"

She set the last jar down on the table. "Grim, come here." He rose at once and came to stand beside her. She looked up at him, speaking slowly and distinctly. "I want you to pick out your Souljar and set it here on the corner of the table."

For a second, she thought something flashed across his face, but then it was gone and she couldn't be sure of it. He looked down at the jars with his usual blank expression. Slowly, he raised his left hand and reached out. His fingers closed around a jar and lifted it up and gently set it down where she'd indicated.

Hermione stared for a moment, and then grabbed the jar. "It's label number 22."

Bill had his diagram out. "That would make it jar number 31, which is..." he scanned Aberon's list, "...Edged Scervix."

She put the jar down. "Grim, please turn around and face the wall." As soon as his back was turned, she began shuffling the jars again. "I won't believe this until he picks out the same jar at least three times."

"Edged Scervix," Harry mused. "I can see relating 'edged' to 'sever' as in his old name... but the 'scervix' part just baffles me."

"Grim, turn around and look at the jars again." Hermione crossed her fingers. "Now pick out your Souljar again, and set it here on the table." Again he looked blank, but reached out and picked up a jar, carefully putting it down where ordered. She turned it with a shaking hand so they could all read the label: 22.

"You don't think he's just reading the labels, do you," Harry asked. "He's heard us mention the label number."

"Good thought," Bill said as he drew his wand. "Cumulous!" A thick fluffy white cloud of fog settled around the jars, leaving only the lids visible.

Hermione shuffled the jars around again after having Grim turn his back. "Grim, turn around and pick out your Souljar. Then put it here on the table."

Grim looked at the exposed lids, and unerringly reached out and picked out the same jar.

"Once more, just to be sure," Bill said. "This time, I'll mix them up." He shuffled the jars around for a few moments and then stood back to let Grim make his selection.

Grim looked at the jars, but made no move to pick one up. Finally Hermione told him to go sit down, and she looked at the other two worriedly. "I was sure we were onto something!"

Bill blushed, matching his hair. "We are." He pulled the jar out of his left pocket. "I wanted to make sure, and didn't want you maybe giving him any subtle clues that it wasn't there. So I palmed it while I was shuffling the jars."

"I should hex you into the middle of next week for that, Bill Weasley!" Hermione said a little angrily.

"No you shouldn't," Harry broke in. "We had to be sure, and you know it."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It was the only way I could think of to prove it."

She took a deep breath and then another. "You're right. When are you going to bring Cain over?"

"Today. Right now, if you don't mind." His eyes went dark for a moment as he put Grim's Souljar down on the table. "Seeing him like this is killing Mum."

Hermione took out her wand and lowered her wards so he could Apparate out. "You're coming right back?"

"Yes." He vanished with the typical quiet pop. A few minutes later, he reappeared with Cain in tow. "I thought about bringing Mum along too, but thought we'd better get the jar dealt with first."

Hermione studied Cain for a moment before reestablishing her wards. His hair had grown in again in the months since the auction, and he'd regained the weight he'd lost while imprisoned. If you discounted the expressionless eyes and the slackened jaw, he looked much like any other wizard. He was wearing dark red robes handed down from Arthur or Bill, judging from the let-down hem.

"Bill," Harry began slowly, "What's your Dad going to do when he finds out that you've restored Cain?"

"I don't know. I just don't know. If it works, I'm going to let Mum tell him. She's going to be casting the spell, not me. I love my brother, but I don't know if I love him enough." Bill looked down at the jars on the table. "Part of me thinks he deserves this for killing Fred and Charlie." He sighed. "Cain, come here. Now, pick out your Souljar, and place it here on the table."

With a weird sense of deja-vu, they watched Cain unerringly pick out a jar and set it aside. Bill picked it up. "Label number 8, which is jar number 18, which is..."

"Rude Custard Ferret," Harry completed. "Ferret... Weasel.. Weasley. I suppose that's easy enough."

"But Rude Custard? How on earth do you get...?" Hermione asked, shaking her head in confusion.

"It doesn't matter," Bill said harshly. "Let's make sure of this, just like we did with Grim."

Twice more, Cain picked out the same jar. Now they looked at each other with a certain amount of trepidation. Finally Harry said, "I'm convinced, but it's up to you two."

"Let me get Mum," Bill replied. "We'll find out soon enough." He Disapparated quietly as soon as Hermione lowered the wards again.

"He'll be back any moment," she said. "Let's get these other jars out of sight." She looked up for a moment. "Grim, go into your room and shut the door." Then to Harry again, "The less Molly knows..."

"Good point." They carefully put the jars in a box and stowed it in Hermione's bedroom. "What about the notes?" Harry asked, moving toward the table.

She gathered them up hastily, and one page escaped her grasp and fell on the floor. She ignored it in favor of hiding the bulk of their ill-gotten booty. When she came back into the living room, Harry was looking at the stray piece with a rather bemused expression.

The telltale pop-pop of Apparation stopped Hermione from asking Harry about it. He rolled it up neatly and tucked it into a pocket before the Weasleys got their bearings.

Molly's eyes were red-rimmed, and she sniffled a little as she looked around at the little group in Hermione's living room. "Bill's been telling me how you've both been such a help to him with... with... Cain." Fresh tears crept down her cheeks. "Do you really think this will work?"

Hermione shook her head and moved across the room to put a gentle arm around Molly. "We don't know – we won't know until we try it. It should work, according to everything we've read. But there's only one way to find out for sure."

"What will happen if it doesn't work?"

"It's a dangerous spell, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered. "It could kill him. The backlash could kill you as well. But we think it will work."

She rubbed her eyes and blew her nose noisily. Hermione brought her a cup of tea, which she accepted gratefully. "So what do I need to do?"

"He needs to drink the potion first. Then as soon as he's done, you cast the spell while holding the Souljar. The incantation is Amor Vincit Omnia."

"I think it would be good to try to concentrate on how much you love him," Harry added. "It won't hurt, at least."

"I love my son, no matter what he's done. Give him the potion," Molly said decisively, draining her cup. She picked up the indicated jar and gripped her wand firmly. "I'm ready."

The Mens Sana potion was a light blue, the color of the sky on the best and brightest days of summer. It tasted (according to all accounts) like starshine and moonbeams – rather more poetic than useful in Hermione's opinion. They had appropriated half a dozen vials in their raid on St. Mungo's, and Harry handed one to Bill.

"Ready Mum?" When she nodded, he unstoppered the vial and handed it to Cain. "Drink this."

The Soulstruck man complied with the same deliberation that marked all his movements. When he'd finished, Bill gestured to Molly. "Time, Mum."

She pointed her wand at her son, and spoke the incantation in a trembling voice. Tendrils of muted red and tan emerged from the jar and entwined themselves around Cain. More and more tendrils appeared, weaving a web that encompassed him entirely. Slowly the colors grew brighter and brighter until they matched the scarlet and gold of the Gryffindor crest. And then in an instant they vanished. For a moment there was no further reaction, and then Cain turned his head and looked around with a curiously blank expression. His gaze fell on Bill, and then Molly, and the blankness vanished, replaced by a tearing remorse.

"Mum? Is it really you?" He took a shaky step toward her. "I... I am so sorry..."

She held out her arms to him, and he fell into them as if he were a boy again, tears pouring down his cheeks. Bill had his arms around both of them, his eyes watering also. Hermione touched Harry gently, and they moved into the kitchen to give the Weasleys some privacy.

"It looks like it worked," Harry said quietly. "Bill has sense enough to make sure before they leave here though."

"I'm glad for them, but I don't envy Arthur the position this puts him in. I can see the headlines now: Ministry Official Frees Convicted Death Eater. Rita wouldn't be able to hush it up."

"They'll figure something out. I'd be surprised if they hadn't thought about it already. Percy did some awful things, and I got the feeling when he was captured that he regretted becoming a Death Eater."

She fiddled with the teapot a bit nervously. "I hope it's as easy for me. I really want to get it over and done with."

"You're going to try it today?"

"As soon as the Weasleys have gone." She put the teapot down and rummaged in a cabinet, emerging with a vial containing a violent pink potion. "I've got the Amorata potion already brewed, and I don't want to waste it."

"That's the love potion you're going to try?"

"It's the only one I could find that will do what I need," she answered dryly. "And yes, it's nearly a Dark potion. From what I was reading, parents used to use it to get their children to accept arranged marriages. Some old wizarding families still use it for that. The Machiavelli family – it was Nicolai who created it in the first place – used to brew it a year in advance of a planned wedding because it grows more potent as it ages. It's a very specific potion; you have to add one drop blood from the, ah, desired person, just before drinking it."

Harry gave her a wry grin. "Maybe you should give him a dose of it also with a drop of your blood, just to level the playing field so to speak."

"Harry!"

"It was just a suggestion. You don't know how he's going to react to... to all this." He flailed about for a distraction, and thought of the parchment he'd picked up. "It's going to be a little while before the Weasleys leave. Take a look at this!" He held it out to her.

"You're trying to distract me, Harry Potter, and it's not going to work!" But she reached for the roll anyway, and unfurled it. Her forehead wrinkled as she looked at it. "Where'd you get this?"

"Off your floor. It's part of Aberon's notes."

5 e 5 4e 5 5 5 6

"Bloody hell! Another puzzle? We still haven't figured out the entire first one!"

"We don't need to figure the rest of it, Hermione. We got what we want out of it."

She threw up her hands. "I suppose. I just hate leaving things unfinished. So what do you make of this?"

"I've no idea what to think of the stanzas that aren't in English. And the last bit with the numbers is weird too. But the rest of it could be a mnemonic for a spell of some kind."

"Magic's Curse probably refers to Soulstriking given the other English stanzas," she mused thoughtfully. "And the lines about midnight, starlight, and so on could be the time of day when the spell has to be cast – obviously midnight – the Witching Hour."

"And time of year," Harry added. "You only get a harvest moon in the fall."

"I'm not going to wait nine more months to free Grim," she said decisively. "I'm going to try it today."

The discussion was interrupted by Bill poking his head around the corner. "We're taking Percy home now. Mum's going to tell Dad tonight after dinner. Good luck with Grim, Hermione."

"Thanks Bill! I hope things go well tonight."

He nodded. "So do I." The three Weasleys vanished in a rush of displaced air, and Hermione turned back to Harry.

"Please, Harry, let's not fight about this."

"I'm just worried about how he'll react."

"I know it's not going to be easy. I can deal with it." She paused for a moment. "Harry, I... I need you not to be here when I cast the spell."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to see me under the influence of the Amorata potion." She summoned up a grin. "I might end up kissing him, you know. Or worse!"

"Ewww! That's a horrid thought!" He rolled his eyes. "You win. I'm going to need a Pensieve to get that image out of my mind! When should I check back on you?"

"Three days should be enough time for it to wear off. I'll Floo you if it wears off earlier."

"I guess I'll leave you to it then." He gave her a hug. "Please be careful. If you don't find me at home, try the Weasleys." He Disapparated, leaving her alone in the house with Grim.

Hermione took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly, trying to get her nerves under control. "I don't want to see me under the influence of that potion either. Grim, you'd better be worth this!" The familiar ritual of reestablishing her wards calmed her, and she continued in a happier frame of mind.

She brought the Amorata potion into the living room, and then retrieved the Souljar from her bedroom. Next, she dipped a needle in rubbing alcohol and brought that into the living room as well.

Harry's comment about leveling the playing field stuck in her mind, and she looked at the Amorata vial speculatively. Halve the dosage, halve the effect was the usual rule for potions. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to give him part of it. Or she could wait another day or so for the potion to strengthen more, and then split it. It was rather frustrating that there was so little documented about the effects of different dosages.

She bit her lip. Grim would also be taking the Mens Sana potion, and Merlin knew what sort of interaction that would produce. She returned to her bedroom and dug out her dog-eared copy of Most Potente Potions, and turned to the section on interactions. Half an hour later, she shut the volume decisively. Stripped of the archaic verbiage, it said that two potions that affected the same aspect of a person would result in both having greater effect. The examples given seemed to bear out her conclusion. Therefore, the Mens Sana should increase the effectiveness of the Amorata.

She got a clean mug from the kitchen and poured a scant third of the Amorata into it.

"Grim," she called, "come here, please.

When he reached the table she had him hold out one hand. Before she could change her mind, she pierced his thumb with the needle and squeezed a drop of blood into the vial. It bubbled quietly for a moment and then turned a brilliant crimson, just as it was supposed to. "Cheers!" She closed her eyes and drained the vial in three quick swallows. It was dreadfully sweet and sticky, as might be expected from something that was based on rodomel and marshmallow.

Her first impression was that the potion was ineffective. She didn't feel any different. Disappointed, she opened her eyes and nearly fell as the effect hit her. It was like being wrapped in cotton wool, she decided with part of her mind. A sweet, sticky cotton wool. She had the overwhelming urge to reach for Grim's hand, to run her fingers through his hair, to ... She clamped down on that train of thought before it went anywhere. It took an intense amount of concentration to continue. She set the vial down and took up the needle again. A moment later, a drop of her blood fell into the mug. As soon as the liquid quit bubbling, she handed Grim the Mens Sana potion, then picked up his Souljar.

"Grim, drink the potion I gave you, and then drink what's in the mug."

Once he was finished, and the vial and mug back on the table, she summoned up all her remaining strength of will and drew her wand. "Amor Vincit Omnia!"