Chapter 18
Harry ran for Dumbledore’s office. Usually when these things happened, they happen to me, he thought unhappily. That’s easier to bear than this. He tore down a stairwell and collided with Ron, on his way up. They fell in a heap on the landing. Harry felt the nose piece of his glasses dig into his forehead as his face struck the floor. A choked sound of pain came from Ron.
“Get your knee out of my gut,” Ron wheezed. Harry rolled and felt his glasses fall back into place. Ron scraped himself up with a cough and looked reproachfully at him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Sorry,” panted Harry. He didn’t feel any blood even though there was a deep imprint of his glasses in between his eyebrows. He got to his hands and knees. “You won’t believe what’s happened...”
“Is it possible,” a dry voice said suddenly. “That ANYTHING believable will EVER happen to you, Mr. Potter?” Both boys turned to see Snape standing over them. The Potionmaster looked in surprisingly good health compared to the last time they had seen him. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he didn’t seem to be angry at them for once. There was only an air of grudging resignation.
“Professor Lorelei sent me to give a message to Dumbledore,” Harry said, wary anyway.
“Did she.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” Harry got back to his feet and held a hand out to help Ron up.
“She needs both Headmasters.” He wasn’t sure how much to tell about the situation yet. “We have to go.” To their partial surprise, Snape made no move to stop them. They didn’t wait for him and broke into a jog down the corridor. Safely out of sight around a corner, Ron turned to Harry expectantly.
“Is it just me or was he almost decent?” he asked. Harry grinned.
“Only if he had helped us up,” he said. “Snape knows something’s up.”
“He should.” Ron muttered. “He’s been in the middle of the whole vampire scandal since it started.” As if by Apparation, Mrs. Norris appeared in the hallway ahead of them. They both slid to a halt to stare at her. The eerie-eyed cat was rounder than she was tall. She looked like a moth-eaten fur muff on legs with an irate head on one end and a bent tail on the other.
Pregnancy must’ve mellowed her though, because she gave them a disinterested glance and dragged her new bulk over to a sunny spot where she collapsed. While Ron and Harry stared in horrified fascination, she licked her paw and passed it once over her ear. That action took all of her energy so she flopped down to sleep. Careful not to cast a shadow over her, the boys inched past and then ran for it.
“Hermione sent me after you. Some big secret of hers.” Ron asked as they went. “Did you see earlier? Real battle magic! You can’t get away with stuff like that around here. The Ministry of Magic will be here by suppertime!”
“Good,” said Harry. “There are more secrets than just Hermione’s around here.” Ron looked at him curiously. “Ficus is a Slider.” The redhead blinked and then scrunched up his face in confusion.
“But there aren’t any Sliders anymore,” he said. “There used to be a department to them in the Ministry, my dad says. Now, it’s just an office with a desk and this ancient old wizard who’s name nobody remembers. Dad says he just sits in there and sleeps on a pile of the old files.”
“Well, they have them in Elmskill,” Harry insisted. “Where’s Hermione?”
Ron led him down to the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room. Hermione was there, standing nervously next to the painting of the woman in pink. Her worried face cheered when she saw them and she ran over to meet them.
“I need to find Dumbledore,” Harry told her before she could speak. “You’ll have to tell us on the way.”
“He’s in the winter garden,” she said, falling into step with them as they started on again. “Listen. Headmaster Ficus doesn’t have a reflection...” “Well, of course not,” said Ron, rolling his eyes. “His reflection is living in a cave under the Dark Forest, making hodge-podge little monsters.”
“That’s not the problem,” Hermione sighed. “Raye saw it too, and now she’s on the hunt.” Ron groaned and Harry signed heavily.
“Ficus can take care of himself, surely,” Ron said after a moment.
“Professor Zephyr is after him too,” added Harry. “Throw Raye into the mix and who knows what will go wrong.”
“Good point,” said Hermione. They stepped out into the cold air and trotted down a stone path to the winter gardens. A large iron gate blocked the way, shaped like a phoenix. Ron opened it and they crept inside. The winter gardens of Hogwarts were beautiful. Professor Sprout and Hagrid had teamed up the autumn before and created them. Even in their hurry, Ron, Harry, and Hermione looked around at the collection of winter-blooming flowers and shrubs. There were statues of famous wizards and witches scattered through the garden. They found Dumbledore next to a frozen fountain, talking to McGonagall. The three students stopped and ducked behind a small hedge.
“I can’t mention Sirius in front of McGonagall,” Harry whispered. An idea came to him. “Hermione, you and Ron go tell McGonagall about Raye. Then, I can tell Dumbledore everything.”
“Everything about what?” Hermione asked.
“I’ll tell you on the way, “ Ron said. “Now come on.” They went running up to the Headmaster and Professor. McGonagall looked at them sternly, not happy about the interruption.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione said quickly. “But it’s Raye.” McGonagall sighed.
“This isn’t about Mr. Filch being mind-controlled by his cat is it?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” said Ron, waiting for more. McGonagall’s lips tightened.
“Nevermind then. What is it this time?”
“Vampires,” said Hermione. “Raye says Headmaster Ficus doesn’t have a reflection. She’s gone to the kitchens for garlic.”
“Oh my...dear,” sighed McGonagall. “Excuse me, Headmaster.” She hurried off with Ron and Hermione in tow. Dumbledore sat on the edge of the frozen fountain and pulled a bag of candy from his pocket. When Harry came running up to him, the Headmaster calmly offered him a toffee.
“Ficus isn’t a vampire,” Harry blurted out. “He’s a Slider.” Dumbledore was silent for a moment, then his eyebrow twitched upwards and a not-quite smile touched his face.
“That,” he said, standing up and pocketing his candy. “Would explain quite a bit.”