22. Scrl fr Erchths Kncktrn Ally

"What?!" shouted Reginald, the Death of Poets.

"I want you to go with the girl and the ghost on this one," said Death calmly from his Bone Throne.

Reginald could not believe his ears. "Whatever for? I'm no gumshoe."

"I know, but something bothers me about this James Potter."

"You said yourself, he's much more mature than Black..."

"I was wrong. Flooding that hospital's mental ward was not the act of a rational being. He nearly caused three unscheduled drownings that day. And besides, he's from the Beyond. I have no control over him. Sirius, at least, I could threaten a bit."

"Oh," said Reginald. "But why me?"

"Well, it'd be such a nice change... for all of us. You've never been to Knockturn Alley, have you?"

"Knockturn Alley? Is that where they're going?"

"Yes."

Reg shuddered.

"What's the matter?"

"It's not very... well... aesthetic."

"Unless you include old Gerda Gibbet who used to sell rhyming hexes at two a penny." Death waxed nostalgic. "My favorite of hers was..."

"Please, don't."

"...'Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow...'"

"Stop!" groaned Reginald, wincing.

"She was humming that one when her heart gave out."

"I wouldn't know. I wasn't there, but I do recall, her meter was execrable."

"And her spells hardly ever worked, but she was an entertaining old gal, all the same." Death gnawed absently on a finger bone. It sounded like chalk against a blackboard.

Reginald refused to let it get to him. "Granted. But how can I help these other two... the girl and the ghost? I'd just get in the way."

"I didn't say you have to get in on the action. I just want you to observe their actions and bring me a report afterwards. If they put a toe out of line, I'll want to know about it, chapter and verse."

"Oh, all right." Reg looked about to go into a deep sulk.

Death decided to throw him a bone, figuratively, of course. "You could make a poem of it."

"Mmm?"

"You know, a kind of epic."

"What's epochal about a tiresome student and a mischief-making spirit traipsing about a hole like Knockturn Alley?"

"Methinks they're going to have quite an adventure there."

Reg brightened. "Oh? Dragons and such?"

"Not exactly, but they'll be meeting some rather nasty souls."

"Oh." The Death of Poets pursed already razor-thin lips. "There could be something in it, I suppose."

"You could make it so."

"Yes, I suppose I might."

"Good. Here are your directions. Get on with it."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. There's a good boy."

Reginald, the Death of Poets looked at his vastly older counterpart and blinked. Then he took the bit of paper he was offered, smoothed his parti-colored houppeland and huffed off in the direction of the nearest wormhole. As he did, another figure, elderly but robust, came up behind the Bone Throne.

"Vat vas dat all about?"

"Oh, Karkarov, there you are. I've sent Reg off."

"Goot. Now can ve go find my brudder?"

"Yes, I believe I've located Igor...in a most unlikely place. But ingenious, I must admit. You said you wanted to put the wind up him?"

"Vell, yes. Giff him da mickey mouse, ass you say. It iss, after all, his fault dat I'm here and he's still dere. I tolt him und tolt him he shouldn't mess vit dat Dark Lord, but vould he lissen to me? Nyet!"

"You realize I'm doing you a favor here."

"Da, und I vill be eternally grateful...."

"Grateful enough to put in a good word for me with the higher-ups when you get to the Beyond?"

"Ven vill dat be?"

"Just a few weeks more. You were supposed to die in mid-August from a Gagging Hex in the Annual Krepetnikov Free-For-All."

"Hmmph...I von dat contest tree...no four times. Hokey dokey, ven I get to St. Peter, I'll say dat you ver a most gracious host."

"Good, and tell him I'm in sore need of a vacation, will you?" He picked up his scythe. "Darn, I just had a nasty thought!"

"Vich iss?"

"What if he likes her?"

"Who?"

"Reg and this Hermaphrody Granger, or whatever her name is."

"Huh! Not dat vun. He's too stuck on hisself to haf a care for any lowly human."

"I don't know. Remember Elizabeth Barrett Browning? No, that was before your time. But Granger and Reg...they're an awful lot alike."

"How's dat?"

"Sort of... you know... prissy and perfectionistic and annoyingly know-it-all. They'll get to talking about some hifalutin nonsense, and that list'll never get finished. She might even decide she likes him better than Sirius. But no, he wouldn't risk talking to her. He knows the Law...."

~*~

I can't figure out this next assignment, James," said Hermione, hunched over Dumbledore's list. "I get the Knockturn Alley part, but who or what is 'Erchths'?"

Gesundheit! the ghost of James Potter wished her cheerfully as he slid off his perch over the lintel of her chamber door. He liked playing with the silken curtains that framed the entry. They reminded him of Lily: elusive, but oh so lithe and lovely.... Erechthys. I've met her. She's a denizen of the Alley, famed for her ability to call up the spirits of the dead.

"How do you come to know her?"

Eh... once upon a time she operated a bit of a smuggling operation on the side. Specializing in enchanted maps and such. He pointed a nebulous finger at the script, and it penetrated the parchment. Let's see...you have to go to Knockturn Alley, find Erechthys and give her a 'scrl.' What's a 'scrl'? A squirrel, do you think?

"Yes, that's just what she'd want," Hermione said sarcastically. "No... it's more likely a scroll, don't you think? But where..."

The moment James' ethereal substance had penetrated the page, it started to glow, though faintly at first. Now the parchment flared up, and something dropped off it, sparkling. Hermione tried to catch the object, but it passed right through her hands, like water. James snatched it up. It was, of course, a scroll. A gift from the Headmaster, do you think?

"I suppose he never heard of paper clips," said Hermione, "but why couldn't I hold onto it?"

Must be my soft and gentle touch, said James. No, it seems to be made of some ethereal substance, just like us spirits. He unrolled it and held it up for her to see.

There were three short lines and one long one at the bottom, all in a primitive rune-form, which she translated easily:

Merope Riddle

Bartimaeus Crouch, Sr.

Regulus Black

Each has a burning question to ask. You must answer them truthfully, but keep your mouth sealed otherwise.

"Hmm," Hermione mused, "all these people are dead. I wonder if Erechthys is supposed to make them appear to us."

Makes sense, said James, and you have to tell each one something they want to know."

"That's scary," she said. "Suppose I don't know the answer."

Just say so. The truth is all, remember?

"What do you think it means to keep my mouth sealed?"

Maybe it's like with that old bible story about Lot and his wife: only this time, if you open your mouth, you turn into a pillow of salt.

"That's 'pillar,' James."

Oh. I thought Lily said 'pillow.' Well, are you up for this?

"As long as you've got my back."

Always.

As they Apparated out, they did not notice a parti-colored figure trailing after them, pen and pad in hand.

~*~

"You're back early, Reg," thundered Death at his colleague. "I haven't even had a chance to finish my novel."

Reginald, the Death of Poets, squeaked apologetically, "I got the whole story...in verse. I used your favorite: iambic pentameter. It flows rather well, if I do say so."

"All right," Death grumbled, settling himself on his Bone Throne. "Report."

Reginald took out his pad, cleared his throat, and began:

"Said James, as he perused the glowing parchment.

"'Our next assignment lies down Knockturn Alley.'

"Hermione feared the place's reputation,

"But flew with him to its debased environs.

"And stopped before its dark and dirty entrance."

Reg thought back to his first sight of her: a very ordinary girl with scraggy brown hair, eyes like two raisins stuck in a pudding, skin almost gray in the ugly twilight of the Alley. A very dull person, though her conversation with Potter had evinced signs of intelligence. Her face looked drawn with worry. He cleared his throat and went on.

"But from the heavens plunged a host of riders

"On broomsticks and, though headless, raised her spirits.

"She recognized Patrick Delaney-Podmore.

"And curtseyed, greeting him and grinning broadly,

"'What brings you, sir, to this ill-favored crossroads?'"

He'd had a sudden, indiscreet urge to shield her, weak creature that she was, from these ruffians. The Headless Hunt were a bunch of well-bred snobs he'd run into a couple of times before. Their number included Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, a decent poet. Too bad he'd been a traitor as well....

"Sir Pat replied, an eye to her dark beauty,

"'We've challenged Valk'ries to a game of Quidditch,

"'But need a Seeker of James Potter's prowess.'

"But James replied, 'I am not free to help you.'

"He waved the scroll as proof of his first duty."

He hadn't liked the way Podmore frankly leered at the girl, strutting and flaunting his codpiece, showing all his teeth like the proverbial Cheshire cat. Challenged Valkyries indeed! As if Brunnhilde would even look at that party of snivelling sots. More likely they were having a pick-up game with that group of ghouls that lounged about St. Paul's....

"At that, Sir Patrick snatched the glowing object,

"Ensconced it in his belt and cried, 'Come get it.'

"He made off, laughing, with his men t'wards heaven,

"And James pursued them, longing for adventure,

"Rememb'ring youth, forgetting fair Hermione."

Death was right. James Potter was at bottom an irresponsible type, leaving the girl like that to the uncertain mercies of Knockturn Alley, not thinking of the consequences. Surely the scroll itself wasn't that important. But Potter had been piqued by the Hunt's macho swagger. There she was now, all alone. He'd prayed...how unlike him...that she'd be all right....

"Fatigue warred with Hermione's deep foreboding.

"She sank onto a bench inside the Alley.

"Now in the gloom, she saw three hags approaching,

"Snakes, amber-eyed, writhed at their necks and torsos.

"So like the Basilisk that once benumbed her."

He'd so wanted to intervene, but the laws of the Styx forbade it. Lord Death could make things awfully difficult for him, if he had a mind, but for a moment Reginald didn't care about that. Her face looked stricken and so lonely. He had to do something....

"The trio must have sensed her pain and panic.

"For now they brandished those night-marish vipers,

"With fangs envenomed, mercilessly lunging.

"As they closed in, she felt the fetid vapors,

"Of menses, verdigris, and noisome canker."

In a panic, he zoomed out into the sunshine of Diagon alley, looking for help. There, he saw a solitary witch scowling at plums in a bin.

She didn't even look at him, but strode immediately to the opening.

"Just then, a voice behind them stopped their onslaught.

"A gray-cloaked figure, tall, with bristling menace,

"McGonagall it was, in righteous umbrage,

"Rebuked in rich contralto those three Furies.

"'I know you, Meg, Mad Alice, Tissie Keddle.'"

Back in his clean, comfortable houppeland, Reg had breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Minerva McGonagall go at the three hags. Human women were so very good at inflicting pain upon members of their own sex.

"'I will not have you harassing my student!'

"She conjured Dragon-fire to speed them onward,

"Embossing wrinkled flesh with red-hot embers,

"And through the sticky swing door of a tavern.

"Then asked, 'Miss Granger, why come to this ghetto?'"

That witch certainly knew her hexes. A healthy dose of fire and brimstone drove the three hags, hair aflame and shrieking, into a nearby public house.

"She told her mentor all she was permitted,

"That James was with her on a righteous errand,

"But he had left her to retrieve their fortune,

"From thieving, but gallant and well-dressed sportsmen.

"She knew not where their perfidy would lead him."

The poor child looked just about beat as she floundered about trying to tell her Head just enough, but not too much. "I have this errand, Headmistress," she'd quavered. "James Potter's helping me."

The Headmistress interrupted her, "...and James just had to fly off half-cocked and get it back. And leave you here to fend for yourself. How noble of him."

"Minerva raised her wand and sent a dove out,

"Ensorcelled to escort the miscreant earthward.

"A moment later James appeared beside them,

"The scroll he clutched like any Snitch he'd captured,

"But Scottish Min spoke to him rather sternly."

He'd almost felt sorry for Potter, who at the end of her scathing lecture, looked to have shrunk a good three inches. She'd called him just about every nasty Scottish epithet in her arsenal, including a few Reg had never heard before. But what really got to him was the way the Headmistress trusted this girl. Didn't question her further, just nodded and turned on her heel when she'd finished reducing Potter's ego to ashes.

"The two continued down the dismal Alley,

"And James, much chastened, called to mind their challenge.

"'This scroll we must deliver to Erechthys,

"'Necromancer and dabbler in the Dark Arts.

"'She is not kind, but wise in spirit-knowledge.'"

He'd never met Erechthys, but knew her by reputation. Spirit conjurers were a dying race, and she the last of the best of them, it was said.

"'She will conjure for you three restless spirits.

"'Whose names are rune-encrypted on the parchment.

"'When each appears, t'will ask of you a question.

"'You must within your knowledge answer truly,

"'Then close your mouth and speak no more,' he cautioned."

Reg knew well what that last warning portended. Dementors! He'd sensed them flitting around over the rooftops. And they were hungry.

"Hermione then re-read the glowing parchment.

"'Can you protect me from whatever happens?'

"She asked in fear. 'I do not know,' he muttered.

"'For as you saw with Podmore's Headless Hunters,

"'I am not equal to these older spirits.'"

The girl's heart sped up in terror, sending a dark flush to her cheeks, but Reg found Potter's admission of frailty strangely comforting. Surely a man who knew his weaknesses would be a more reliable paladin than one who was nought but brag and blather.

"They found the old necromancer's apartment.

"And handed her the scroll with explanations.

"How this girl, lowly student, had to answer

"The curiosity of these three spirits,

"To know what they could not see through the Veil."

The die was cast. Reg could only watch and pray that she would say the right thing. Not a hopeful thought. But then he didn't know her very well.

"'This trio are in thrall to their ambitions,'

"Erechthys said, 'And seek the peace of closure.

"'But know that in their present state they cannot,

"'Divine the present, though they see the future.

"'They seek such knowledge questioning the living.'"

He knew well this part of the law. The denizens of the lower levels of hell could not see what their offspring were currently doing, though they were constantly tormented with the far-reaching results of those actions.

"'They also are on borrowed time; their passions

"'Must soon be neutralized or they'll be prey to

"'Dementors, which now hover thickly o'er us.

"'So quickly can they sense and suck such yearnings!

"'Take care that this harsh fate should not befall you.'"

Yes, the Dementors were even now converging on the house. He felt their hunger though he was not touched by it. The girl was, however. He saw her quail, then draw herself up, resolutely. Brave child, he thought.

"Erechthys raised her wand of knotted hemlock.

"'Per te si va ne l'etterno dolore.'

"A door appeared in air. It wavered gently,

"And forth she called the first of three grave spirits:

"'Merope Riddle, come and ask your question.'"

Her quoting of the verse from Dante's Inferno gave him pause. "Abandon hope, you who enter here." Was this a warning of the risk of exposure to Dementors the three souls were taking on reentering the world? Or did Erechthys simply divine from her vast experience that nothing the girl could tell them about their families would bring them comfort?

"A shade of slightest form slid through the portal.

"Cursed with bowed legs, flat chest, a wand'ring eyeball.

"'I fell for one whose form outshone his station,

"'A Muggle he, and rich in mundane fortune.

"'He shunned me for my ugliness and birthright.'"

He shuddered at her deformity, but more at the bitterness in the voice retailing the story.

"'I tricked him to conceive a child of passion,

"'But neither babe nor lust could thaw his coldness,

"'I died in pain of childbirth cursing Riddle.

"'Tell me how fares my babe, my little orphan?'

"Hermione quelled her rancor with pure pity."

He sensed the girl's repugnance, not at the ghost's homeliness but at something else only she could see....

"'Your son is powerful; he killed his sire.

"'And sweeps mixed-breeds before him like a flood-tide."

"'I'll be aveng-ed now!' the shade crowed, gloating.

"'His wounds and mine will never be scabbed over

"'Until the roads run red with Muggle life-blood.'"

Ah yes...Voldemort. How Death ranted about his cheats. And this vengeful woman was the demon's mother....

"Hermione watched the ghostess swell with fury.

"When from around the portal, a Dementor

"Swooped down on the poor hag and quaffed her essence.

"Hermione nearly fainted from its closeness,

"But sturdy, wise Erechthys fed her chocolate."

He gained respect for the old conjurer that day. They called her a hard bargainer and cold as a yeti's tits, but she treated the girl almost like a daughter....

"'Come forth, old Barty Crouch, and pose your question.'

"A fading shade formed in the Portal, frowning.

"'Where is my son, that curs-ed, sneaking demon?

"'He killed me in the guise of an old Auror.

"'He never could have otherwise got round me.'"

He remembered when Death had taken this one. Much miffed Bartimaeus Crouch, Senior had been at not going straight to the Elysian fields. Thought himself a hero, he did. But he'd done everything out of vaunting ambition, which cancelled out his virtuous acts in the eyes of the greater powers....

"The girl cried, 'He's been swallowed by Dementors!'

"But Barty crowed, 'A fitting antidote to

"'Suck out that poison from my family's blood-line.'

"His triumph was cut short as two Dementors

"Each seized an arm and shared his soul between them."

He could see that these answers gave the girl much pain. She must have a deep soul to go with those eyes.

"Hermione barely crammed some chocolatl

"Into her mouth before the next shade entered,

"Familiar in his face and in his bearing.

"'Great gods, it's Sirius,' she cried, despairing.

"'What's happened here? Did he not pass his testing?'"

This threw Reg for a bit, but then he saw the difference in the lines about the mouth of this shade. No humor here, like in the Sirius Black he knew and loathed, just hard-bitten zeal....

"Erechthys said,'No. Regulus, his brother.'

"She chided him, who looked so like the other:

"'Proud fool, you joined the Dark Lord, seeking glory,

"'Then quit his death-squad though sworn to support them.

"'For that you paid the ultimate in suff'ring.'"

He had heard about this boy's death too. Some kind of exotic poison in a cave somewhere....

"The shade replied, 'I have my dues paid forthwith.

"'No man shall hear the tale of my redemption

"'Save from my faithful servant, long revi-led.

"'To hear it fully, you must seek his grim den,

"'Hard by stewpots and pans of polished metal.'"

Reg couldn't figure that part out. Must be the family cook. He was rather pleased to note that the girl didn't get it either from the bewilderment in her eyes. Or was she merely recovering from her earlier mistake?

"She asked, 'What question have you for the living?'

"His voice was like a harsh wind dried by deserts.

"'What can you tell me of my brother, Sirius?

"'I heard a rumor he was killed in action,

"'But I don't see him here among the suff'ring.'"

Ah yes, that always got them. There were any number of ways a soul could avoid going into the Beyond, but only Reg and Death knew all of them....

"Hermione had to give the truthful answer,

"Although it likely would destroy him also.

"'Your brother died defending his dear godson,

"'The Dark Lord's nemesis, brave Harry Potter,

"'And now he mourns the loss of their new friendship.'"

That confession got to Reg. He'd never thought of Sirius Black as the type who could sacrifice or mourn for anyone, but if Hermione said so....

"'My poor brave brother,' Regulus responded.

"'He warned me pure-blood vanity's a death-trap.

"'I thought him just a coward for his pity.

"'Oh how I hope some day that he'll forgive me.'

"Despairing thoughts showed whitely on his visage."

They cared about each other, these two brothers, though so unlike, he was sure of it.

"And suddenly out from behind Hermione,

"Strode Sirius his brother to embrace him.

"An instant later they were both ascending,

"But from behind the portal a Dementor,

"Came, sucking soundlessly on the thin ether."

He almost screamed then. But he could do nothing to help her....

"It headed for Hermione in a heart-beat.

"If it could not have Pure-blood, why not Mudblood?

"Its bellows of a mouth stuck out obscenely.

"She tried to say the saving incantation,

"Her 'Expecto patronum,' faltered weakly."

"Then all ablaze, the figure of a white stag,

"Leaped over her and rapped the Demon soundly.

"It lifted her and carried her to safety.

"'I cannot best my fellow ghosts,' James chortled,

"'But I can beat Dementors with no trouble.'"

He finished the piece and bowed. He felt drained.

"Good," said Death, applauding his effort. "And they stuck to the rules. Though the Dementors did not, I think. I'll have to look into that. I believe there's no soul-feeding allowed once the spirit has passed over. They may just have to cough up those little titbits. And speaking of rules, Reg, did you not break the Rule of Silence when you spoke to the Headmistress?"

"Erm, well, technically, it wasn't me, but a street urchin..."

"That reasoning will get you precisely nowhere with the Powers Above."

"Um...well...what do I have to do?

"It's out of my hands. I imagine you'll have to do some extra duty as a punishment."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, say, take over for me while I go on vacation."

Reg looked horrified."When will that happen?"

"In a couple of months, I hope."

"How long a vacation?"

"A couple of eons...I hope."