The Book That Bites

The next afternoon's training ended later than usual. When Clara emerged from the dungeon, her calves were still trembling slightly. Snape was probably in a bad mood today; he had picked up the pace of his Nonverbal Spells yet again. She flexed her aching wrist as she climbed the stairs and ran into Rowle, who had just come out of the Great Hall.

Rowle was carrying her favorite beef wrap. Seeing her disheveled state, he sighed, raised an eyebrow, and muttered, "Were you wrestling with Snape again?" and "I knew you wouldn't have time to eat," as he pressed the steaming wrap into her arms.

She gave Rowle a hug with a smile, then hurried toward the Headmaster's Office as she ate her dinner.

The gargoyle sprang aside as soon as it saw her, before she could speak-Dumbledore had clearly already told it to expect her. She climbed the spiral staircase and pushed open the familiar wooden door.

The office was more crowded than usual, as there was an extra person there. Fawkes was preening his tail feathers on his perch, and a faint lemon scent drifted through the air, probably from the crystal jar filled to the brim with Sherbet Lemons on Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore sat behind the desk in deep purple robes, a small silver star tied into his beard. Clara had seen the other person before—or, to be precise, she had seen him in the papers throughout the previous year.

The Azkaban escapee, Sirius Black.

But she had to say, the man was much better-looking in person than he was in the papers. He saw her and greeted her with a smile.

"Miss Albert, it's a pleasure to see you." Dumbledore rose from behind his desk. "Please, sit. Tea or Pumpkin Juice?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you." Clara sat down in an armchair in front of the fireplace. A steaming cup of black tea floated over to her, and she picked it up to warm her fingers. Dumbledore sat down across from her, picked up a small velvet box from the edge of his desk, and placed it in front of her.

"The amulet itself is finished," he said, opening the lid. A silver disc lay on the dark blue velvet, exquisitely made. Fine silver threads were set into the engraved Runic spells, and six gems the size of rice grains were arranged in a six-pointed star, each glimmering a different color in the candlelight.

"The materials for this were extremely difficult to find, and Mr. Black was a great help, so I thought you two should meet. Oh, and he's also Harry's godfather." Dumbledore gestured to the middle-aged man beside him and added teasingly, "I'm sure Miss Albert has seen you in the papers, though she may not have a very good impression of you."

Sirius shrugged, indicating that he didn't mind. He leaned back in his armchair, tapping his fingers idly against the rim of his teacup, his eyes filled with frank curiosity. He was very interested in the girl before him. After all, earning the approval of both Harry and Snape was even harder than escaping from Azkaban.

What was more, she had been Harry's date to the Christmas ball. Harry had written to tell him that he and his date had sat beside the dance floor all evening, watching the people they each liked dance together.

They really were two unlucky children. His advice was to remember to take some Felix Felicis before asking someone next time.

The girl before him did not disappoint. Clara radiated stubbornness and a refusal to admit defeat, reminding him of his old friend Lily Evans. But the Sorting Hat must have had a reason for not placing her in Gryffindor, because Dumbledore had told him that, before all this happened, the girl had never broken a school rule. As she was now, she seemed more like a law-abiding person who had been pushed too far.

"Now there's only one final step left for the amulet: your blood and Mr. Diggory's," Dumbledore continued. "But I imagine that may be a little difficult. To prevent Voldemort from noticing what we're doing, it would be best if Mr. Diggory knew nothing about it. Otherwise, if Voldemort realizes we're prepared, other complications may arise."

Clara began to think. Countless plans flashed through her mind, but she rejected them all.

Getting Cedric to willingly provide a drop of blood without knowing anything meant she needed an entirely natural excuse, one that would leave him with no questions and that he would forget as soon as it was over.

Her first thought was Cho Chang. If she asked Cho Chang for help, Cedric certainly wouldn't refuse; he wouldn't even ask a single extra question. But she dismissed the idea as soon as it came to her. No.

Never mind how she would explain to Cho Chang why she needed Cedric's blood. Just remembering how Cedric had come to her and told her she shouldn't joke about Cho's feelings was enough to make her back down, and all she had done then was ask Cho to pass on a message. If she went through Cho Chang this time and You-Know-Who or the Death Eaters found out, making Cho Chang a target for Voldemort's spies, Cedric would probably hate her for it.

After turning it over and over, it seemed there was no better choice than herself.

"Professor, I think I could give him a present for making those people apologize to me last time. It would probably need to be difficult to open, like a box with a metal clasp or something tied with thin wire. It would be perfectly normal to cut a finger opening it. After all, who hasn't cut their hand opening a package? Then I could help him treat the wound and collect the blood in a specially made container, like a little ring. I think all he'd remember was how difficult the present was to open; he wouldn't give it another thought."

Dumbledore nodded in approval of her plan and began searching the office for containers that could hold the blood, attempting to alter their shapes.

Beside them, Sirius rested his chin on his hand, looking at her with a mixture of puzzlement and admiration.

"Miss Albert, Harry mentioned in his letters that Cedric Diggory is the person you like."

"Yes, sir. I thought it was obvious."

How could she not like someone she was willing to risk everything to save, again and again?

Though if it had been someone else, she would have saved them too if she had the chance to go back, but she would certainly have grumbled and cursed about it.

Sirius lowered his hand and folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head slightly. "Merlin, if you hadn't said so, it really would have been hard to tell. Surely no one would be that ruthless with the person they love?"

"A small cut on his finger or being hit by the Killing Curse—I don't think that's a difficult choice. To me, nothing is more important than his staying alive. If the price of keeping him alive were his hating me for the rest of his life, I don't think I'd refuse to pay it."

"Is she really not a Gryffindor or a Slytherin?" He looked at Dumbledore and waved a finger in Clara's direction. "That kind of ruthlessness and recklessness toward the person she likes-James could never have done that to Lily. James didn't even dare wave his wand in front of Lily. Once she asked him to help her practice the Shield Charm, and the spells he sent at her were so feeble that she laughed at him for an entire week."

"Miss Albert is a credit to Hufflepuff," Dumbledore said, the ring in his hands nearly complete. "But I understand your confusion. You haven't spent enough time around Hufflepuffs, Sirius. Hufflepuff loyalty and courage take many forms. One of them is being willing to do whatever is necessary to protect someone important to you, including things that make you uncomfortable."

"I believe the ring is finished." Dumbledore stopped what he was doing and placed the finished little-finger ring in front of Clara. A closer look revealed intricate patterns covering the band, with a small, delicate silver Gabriel flower as an ornament. "The blood will flow along the patterns on the ring and into the flower. The flower is hollow, with just enough room for one drop of blood. It won't attract any attention on your finger, if you plan to collect the blood while helping him with his wound."

Clara slipped the ring onto her little finger and tried it on. It fit perfectly.

She thought Dumbledore would have made an excellent designer and artist if he were in the Muggle world.

"Now we have a container," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands. "Next, we need a present. I've just had a good idea."

Dumbledore stood and walked over to the bookshelf, apparently looking for something.

"If it were an ordinary present, Cedric might use a spell to open it. But if it were a book with a temper, one that bites the finger of the person touching it the first time it's opened, Cedric wouldn't think much of it—he'd simply have received a rather unfriendly old book and been bitten, that's all. And I think, as a Champion, he'll have great need of this book."

Clara immediately pictured Cedric's surprised but resigned expression after being bitten by the book.

"There's a book like that?"

Dumbledore took a thick book bound in dark green leather from the top shelf. There was no title on the cover, only a few faint gold-stamped lines that were almost invisible in the candlelight. A fine silver chain was set into the spine, with a small clasp dangling from its end that looked like some kind of ancient anti-theft device. He put the book on the table, and it twitched restlessly a couple of times.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts: Principles and Counter-Curses, the personal manuscript of Gwyneth Griffiths, a fifteenth-century witch from Wales. Only three copies remain in the world. What makes this one special is that it has a very good protective spell on it. The first time it's opened, it bites the finger of the person touching it. It won't hurt too much, but it will draw blood. I've kept it on the top shelf for several years, though—the last person to open it was me. The wound wasn't large, but it was enough for our purposes."

"I never would have guessed it bites. It looks much better behaved than The Monster Book of Monsters."

After all, that book had been an absolute menace back then. Classes were an hour long, and Clara had spent half of each one just struggling with the book.

"It does. And it bites very accurately. Afterward, it remembers the person and won't bite them again. This book could be considered a comprehensive work on Defense Against Dark Magic. He'll certainly like it."

Clara looked down at the thick, dark green book lying on the tea table, the faintest hint of a smile appearing on her lips, then raised her eyes.

"That's the one. But I'll probably need to change the excuse. Giving someone a charmed book as a thank-you sounds less like gratitude and more like murder. I hope he won't mind."