#vault lore

With the exam season fast approaching, the Hufflepuff Common Room had turned from a cosy den to a hub of activity. Every armchair, sofa, and table had been commandeered by groups of fifth and seventh year students, their piles of books and scrolls competing for space with the usual decor of scatter cushions and pot plants.

Artemis and her girlfriends were one such group, however, the textbooks in front of them had yet to be opened, and their hushed conversation had nothing to do with schoolwork.

“So,” said Tonks, the armchair groaning softly as she jumped onto it. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Artemis didn’t even consider her answer. “Good.”

“Ah. Well, I bumped into Moody in Hogsmeade this morning and they’ve still not found out who is passing information to the Cabal from the Auror office-” 

“That’s the good news?”

“- but they’re still telling people false leads,” Tonks shrugged. “So they’ve got it under control. They’ve got plenty of time.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“We’ve not got plenty of time. You two” - she gestured at Penny and Artemis - “and Badeea are looking to go to the Portrait Vault soon, before anyone gets stuck in a portrait again, and then we’ll need to get cracking on the final Vault before the statue curse hits.”

“You’re just full of cheer, you are,” muttered Artemis. 

“At least the dragon guarding it the Portrait Vault is dead already, so that should be easy.”

Beside Tonks, Penny sighed loudly.

“Well, yes, it should, but none of the others have been easy so far,” she said, fiddling with her silver charm bracelet as she spoke. “And besides, we still don’t have any way of getting there.”

Artemis’ eyebrows furrowed deeply. Penny made a very valid point. Two years ago, she and her fellow curse-breakers had travelled to the fourth Cursed Vault using a portrait of the Vault itself, which had been turned into a Portkey. After the expedition had taken a turn for the worse, the portrait had been left inside.

“Maybe we could Apparate,” she suggested. “Rakepick and Jacob both Apparated out of there, it would make sense if we were able to Apparate in.”

“Would it? Apparition requires an accurate destination, and without knowing exactly where the Vault is…”

“Or if it is even a real location,” murmured Chiara, a curious look in her pale blue eyes. “You were only able to get there by a painting of the Vault. What if it only exists inside the painting?”

“But then we’d need another portrait to get inside!”

“Oh!” Penny gasped. “We could get Badeea to paint one for us! She really is very talented, you know.”

“Would that work?” asked Artemis, and Chiara shrugged her shoulders. The girls fell quiet for a few moments, until Tonks slammed her hand down on the arm of her chair.

“Ow!” She winced and rubbed her hand, but her smile didn’t falter. “I’ve got it. I’ve only bloody gone and got it.”

“Got what, Tonks?”

“Okay. So, what if you don’t need that one specific painting to get in? Didn’t you say that last time, you were able to climb in and out of the paintings in there?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And, didn’t you say that your brother was leaving you a trail to follow from one Vault to the next?” Tonks raised her eyebrows expectantly. When none of the girls indicated that they understood her meaning, she sighed. “Come on, Artemis. Remember what you found inside the Forest Vault the first time we went there?”

“The tiny jumper,” said Artemis, and her eyebrows raised as she realised what Tonks meant, “and the painting of the dragon! Tonks, that’s brilliant!”

“Still not the foggiest what that jumper was about, but I bet you anything that if we turn that painting into a Portkey-”

“-it’ll take us into the painting where the dragon lived, and then we can go through the frame and into the Cursed Vault itself!”

“You’re going into a Cursed Vault?” said a small voice from behind Artemis, and all four girls turned to see Beatrice Haywood standing by them. “The one with the portrait curse?”

Artemis knew that there was no point in lying. “Yeah. The Circle of Khanna is trying to go back and break all the curses, for good this time.”

“I want to help.”

“Absolutely not,” said Penny, shaking her head emphatically. “Bea, you can’t-”

“Why not?” Beatrice pouted and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m an honorary member of the Circle of Khanna. Bill taught me how to make a Patronus last year, and I could do it better than some of the actual members, even though I am younger.”

“Exactly. You’re too young.”

“I’ll be fourteen in August. That’s older than you were the first time you went into a Cursed Vault-”

“Yes, but-”

“And I’m the only one here who has actually been cursed before,” Bea raised her eyebrows. “I’m the one who got stuck in a painting for almost a whole bloody year. You have no idea what that’s like, Penny, none of you do.” She shuddered, before telling them, “It was horrid, like a nightmare you can’t wake up from. I still dream about it sometimes, even now.”

Penny blinked as if she wanted to cry and reached out to her sister.

“That’s why I am going and not you. I just want you to be safe,” she said, her voice quietly pleading. Bea rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t need you to keep me safe. I need to keep me safe,” she turned to Artemis. “Please let me come with you. I need to see it for myself, or I’ll never be free from it, not really.”

Artemis looked from Beatrice to Penny and back again. Slowly, Penny nodded her head, her cheeks pale and eyes wide as she did so.

“Okay,” said Artemis. “If you think it will help you, you can come with us.” Bea wrapped her arms around Artemis’ shoulders before running away to find her friends, and once she was gone, Artemis turned back to Penny. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not really,” Penny laughed shrilly, and returned to fiddling with her bracelet. Chiara leaned across the table and placed one hand on her wrist.

“You know,” she said, in her softly lilting voice, “it might be really good for her. What happened to her was awful, but maybe going back and seeing it again will help her realise that the Vault doesn’t have any power over her anymore.”

Penny sniffed and smiled, and when Chiara removed her hand, she stopped playing with her bracelet. Artemis frowned as she considered Chiara’s words, before standing up and walking away from the table.

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going?” Tonks called after her, and she shrugged in response.

“To see if someone else needs to see the Cursed Vault for themselves again,” she replied, before walking out of the Common Room and out into the underground corridor outside.

She made her way through the dungeons towards the Slytherin Common Room, and once there, knocked loudly on the concealed stone door that formed its hidden entrance. She waited, and after a  few moments, the door slid open to reveal a surprised-looking Barnaby Lee.  

“Hello,” he said brightly.

“Hi,” replied Artemis. “Um, is Merula there?”

“Where?”

“In the Common Room. Your Common Room,” she added for good measure, and Barnaby nodded.

“Yes, she is.”

Neither Barnaby nor Artemis spoke for several seconds. Eventually, Artemis sighed.

“So, can you go and tell her I’m here? I want to talk to her about something.”

Barnaby smiled good-naturedly and nodded his head, before disappearing back into the Common Room. Nearly three minutes later, Merula came outside and stood in his place.

“What do you want, Hexley?”

“Tonks thinks she might have figured out a way for us to get back into the gallery room outside the Portrait Vault. Bea Haywood is going to come now, too.”

“So?”

“I thought maybe you might want to come with us to break the curse.”

Merula’s expression had not been friendly to begin with, but at Artemis’ words, she looked at her with even more contempt than before. 

“Why?” she asked, in a scathing voice.

“Because of what happened there last time. I know it was really horrid for you, what with Rakepick-”

“Exactly. Why the hell would I ever want to go back there?”

“So you can see that it doesn’t have power over you anymore,” Artemis told her. Merula scowled and turned to go back inside her common room, but Artemis wasn’t ready to give up. “No, wait. Look, Merula, I know how you feel.”

“Really, Hexley? You’ve had the Cruciatus Curse performed on you, have you?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then you can shut up.”

“I felt it, though. I did, when Rakepick used the curse on you. Because of my Legilimency. And it’s not like Rakepick’s not hurt me, is it? Look at what happened to me in the Vault, when she wanted to kill me, and in the forest last year, with Rowan…” Artemis swallowed. “Rakepick was our teacher and our mentor, someone we both thought could trust, but she betrayed both of us, and hurt both of us. And that affected both of us, right? I mean, we’ve both changed because of it, haven’t we?” Merula said nothing, but she looked less confrontational, so Artemis continued, “I know I have, anyway. I didn’t realise quite how much it was Rakepick who had that hold on me until we were in the Vault of Fear again, and I saw my Boggart.”

Merula frowned. “Your Boggart was Rakepick?”

“Sort of, it was her, then me and my brother both turning into her. It didn’t use to be. I’m not sure when it changed exactly, but now…”

“What was it before?”

“You-Know-Who,” said Artemis, and Merula snorted derisively. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Because it’s stupid. Why would you be scared of You-Know-Who? He’s dead.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just something Dumbledore said once about him not really being gone,” Artemis shook her head. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. It’s not him that I was scared of, not really, just that he was the worst wizard I could think of. Now, Rakepick is worse. To me, anyway, because she is real and has actually hurt me.”

She wasn’t sure what it was she had said, but something seemed to have struck a chord with Merula, who now looked more thoughtful than anything.

“Did you manage to see off the Boggart?” she asked, and Artemis shrugged.

“Just about.”

Merula was silent for several seconds before nodding her head.

“Okay, Hexley. You win. I’ll come with you.”

“You will?“

“Yeah. Rakepick hasn’t got power over me. Even if she doesn’t know it, I do.”

Being interested in art, Badeea Ali was fascinated by the portrait Artemis had found in the Forest Vault the first time she visited. The painting depicted a vast field, charred in places, but no longer occupied by the dark-scaled dragon who had sat in the centre of the image when she first discovered it. Bill Weasley had managed to turn the portrait into a Portkey for them, and as the group of curse-breakers waited for the Portkey to transport them towards the next Cursed Vault, Badeea examined the painting closely.

“It’s masterfully done,” she said, tilting her head one way then another. “The way the artist has played with light and shadow. It looks very realistic, and it’s obviously aged remarkably well. Did you say you found this inside a Cursed Vault?”

“Yeah, my brother put it there,” replied Artemis. “This and a tiny jumper.”

The meaning of the small jumper was still unclear, even after Artemis had rummaged in her trunk to find it the night before and looked at it closely. She supposed that it was small enough to fit either a large house elf or small child - most likely the latter, judging by the pattern of cartoonish blue Kneazles across the chest - but its significance was still as much of a mystery to her as it had been three years earlier. 

Badeea, despite being good friends with Andre, did not seem overly interested in the jumper, significant or not, and instead continued to admire the portrait Portkey until it set off, spinning in the air with all five curse-breakers clinging on for dear life.

The Portkey carried them not to the gallery room that acted as a large antechamber to the Cursed Vault, but to a vast grassy plain, where they landed on the burnt ground beneath a bright blue sky. Artemis quickly scrambled to her feet and looked around. The landscape of the painting extended as far as the eye could see in all directions, and she had no idea where it ended.

“Great,” muttered Merula, also surveying the land. “Now where do we go, Hexley?”

Artemis glanced at Badeea. Being somewhat of an art expert, and having spent so long before they left looking at the painting, she might have an idea of how to get out of it. But Badeea looked at lost as Artemis felt. Beside her, Penny was gnawing at her lower lip, her blonde eyebrows knitted together.

“That way.”

Artemis turned to see who had spoken. Behind her, Bea Haywood was staring into the distance, her face pale and her eyes slightly glazed.

“We need to go that way,” Bea repeated. “I can feel it.”

Without another word, she began to walk. Artemis shrugged at the others before following her, and though her friends looked sceptical, they all did the same. 

The grass plains felt as if they went on forever, and Artemis wasn’t certain how long the had been walking - it might have been minutes or hours - before Beatrice stopped and pointed her finger again. Further across the plains, a large rectangle appeared to have been cut out of the air, as if there was a window floating in the distance. At first, she thought it might be a mirage, but as she squinted, she could see that through the gap, a painted wall and a pile of rubble were visible.

“That’s it, Bea! That’s where we’ll find the Vault!”

Beatrice did not respond before she started to walk once more, only stopping when they reached the window. One at a time, they stepped through the air and down onto a marble floor. Behind them, the landscape through which they had just walked was now no more than a large, gold-framed painting. 

Now, they were in a gallery, with no sunlight on their faces and no breeze in their hair. The walls of the gallery were covered in large scorch marks, and several piles of rubble were dotted around the hall. In the centre, an ancient-looking dragon lay motionless as if fast asleep; the only clue that it wasn’t merely sleeping was the fact that its chest did not rise and fall. Artemis glanced at Merula, who swallowed hard before rolling her eyes and walking away.

“This is incredible,” said Badeea, her mouth agape as she turned back to examine the painting closely, placing her hand straight through the canvas and out again, before meandering around the edges of the room to look at some of the others. Beatrice also walked over to a painting, but with purpose.

The painting Bea had chosen was unlike all the others in the room, and unlike all other magical paintings Artemis had ever seen. This one was completely still, like a Muggle picture, depicting a woman - or perhaps a witch - in very old-fashioned robes, with long red hair crowned with a ring of amber stones and a small bird perched on her index finger.

“She’s hiding the Vault,” said Beatrice, as Artemis approached her. “She doesn’t want the wrong people to find it.”

“Who doesn’t?” Badeea asked, also having made her way across to the painting that disguised the entrance to the fourth Cursed Vault. “Morgana?”

Artemis did a double take. “Who?”

“Morgana. You know, Morgan Le Fay. That’s her in the painting.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because of the iconography,” said Badeea simply. She seemed to notice Artemis’ confusion, so she explained further. “The bird represents her Animagus form, and if you look behind her, there’s a lake and an apple tree. Those symbolise her as the lady of the lake and Queen of Avalon.”

“Queen of what?”

“Avalon. It was said to be a magical island that was her legacy and greatest secret.”

“Right,” Artemis nodded. “What else do you know about her?”

“Not an awful lot really, I know more about the paintings themselves than the people they depict,” said Badeea, still looking at the painting of Morgana. “If you want to know more, you’d be better off asking some of the portraits of other wizards and witches from the era. Merlin, for example. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Artemis told her. “Not right now, anyway. We came here to break a curse, right? Revelio!”

The portrait of Morgan Le Fay faded away, and in its place stood a large wooden door with a brass knocker in the shape of a dragon.

“My,” murmured Badeea, “that is interesting. Very clever, too, if you think about it.”

“What is?”

“Well, Bea said that Morgana doesn’t want the wrong people finding the Vault. It’s interesting that the Vault is behind the only Muggle painting in the whole room.”

“Yes, it does rather stand out,” said Penny, with a little high-pitched giggle.

“Yes and no. A lot of witches and wizards wouldn’t even think to look at a Muggle painting. Notions of blood purity and magical supremacy didn’t just start with You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” Artemis made a non-committal noise, all too aware that behind her, Merula was clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. She looked at the door. “Whatever you do, don’t knock. The dragon is dead, but knowing the Vaults, it might be enchanted so it comes back to life if we touch the door. It has to be done with Legilimency.”

She stepped to the side so that she was face to face with the dragon-shaped knocker, and looked it in its carved brass eyes.

Open, she told it. Go on, open up…

With a click and a loud creak, the door swung open. Beyond it lay a narrow candlelit corridor, the walls of it covered with yet more smaller frames. Artemis stepped up and through the door, followed by Bea, Penny, Merula, and finally, Badeea, who stopped and lingered at each and every painting lining the walls of the corridor.

At its end, the corridor opened into a heptagonal room, containing a single glowing column: the Cursed Vault. Each wall of the Vault bore a framed portrait of the Vault itself, so that looking at the portraits on the walls, it seemed that the Vault went on forever. Artemis avoided looking at the endless Vaults surrounding her, instead focussing her eyes on the golden column in the middle of the one she stood in. Like she had with the door, she stared at it and, using her Legilimency, willed it to open. 

It did not. 

She blinked and shook her head, ready to try again.

“Artemis,” Bea’s voice came from behind her. “Can I try?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Beatrice,” said Penny, before Artemis had a chance to answer. “Artemis’ brother got stuck in here when he tried to open the Vault.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” Artemis nodded, and pointed her finger at the portraits of vaults lining the walls. “In those.”

“I always thought I could feel something living in the portrait with me,” said Bea. “I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were there. At first, it scared me, but then I got used to it and it felt… nice, I guess. I liked knowing that I wasn’t alone.” Her voice was soft and monotone as she stared at the crystal column and continued, “Sometimes, I felt other people, too. Coming closer on the outside. Not in the portrait, but in other places. But it wasn’t me they were close to, it was the Vaults. They’re all connected, I think. Maybe I’m connected to them too, now.”

“Bea-”

“I don’t want to be connected to them anymore.” She looked at Artemis, and the trancelike tone to her voice disappeared as she told her: “Show me how to open it.”

Artemis did so, positioning Beatrice in front of the glowing column and instructing her to stare at it, to feel it and connect with it in her mind before telling it to…

Open.

Bea’s lips mouthed the word silently, once, twice, three times. And then, the sides of the column sprang apart, and the light inside flooded into the Vault around them. 

Bea’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across her face. Behind her, Penny burst into tears.

“You did it!” she said, throwing her arms around her little sister. “Bea, you did it!” She released her hold slightly and looked Beatrice up and down. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think I am. I will be, anyway.”

“I know,” said Penny, pulling Beatrice into another hug, one which Bea returned, burying her face into Penny’s shoulder. “I know you will. I love you.”

Bea’s words were muffled as she replied: “I love you, too.”

Later that evening, after they had apparated back to Hogsmeade and returned to the castle, Badeea took Artemis to the portrait hall, where they stopped next to the painting of Merlin, who was twirling one finger through his impossibly long white moustache.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Badeea, and Merlin frowned before looking down at her from his frame. “My friend and I were just wondering if you might be able to help us.”

“Might, indeed,” said Merlin. Artemis frowned deeply, not sure whether this was an affirmative response. “With what do you require assistance?”

“We would like to know about Morgan Le Fay.”

“Morgana?” Merlin’s white eyebrows furrowed. “Why, I am surprised that you do not know about her already. The Lady of the Lake, the Queen of Avalon... She really was the most formidable and infamous Dark Witches of our age.”

“What about before?” asked Artemis.

“Before?”

“Yeah. Before she became un-famous. We always get told about her being this all powerful dark witch, but she can’t always have been like that.”

“Can she not?”

“No,” Artemis shook her head. “No one is born bad, are they? I mean, you don’t get evil babies. So, when did she become the Dark Witch Morgana, and stop just being… a witch?”

“I am afraid that I cannot tell you for sure,” said Merlin. “However, I can tell you all about our duel at the-”

“What about how there got to be a portrait of her inside one of the Cursed Vaults? Can you tell us about that?” 

Merlin blinked, clearly disconcerted by Artemis’ question.

“You know about Morgana’s involvement in the Vaults of Truth?” he asked quietly.

“Sort of,” replied Artemis. “The centaurs told us that she foresaw a great darkness, and a way to put an end to it. We know about the prophecy she made about the person who could break the curses for good, and the enchanted arrowhead she gave the centaurs to protect them against the curses until then. What we don’t know is why there’s a portrait of her guarding one of the Vaults when she wanted to destroy them.”

Merlin shook his head, his white eyebrows knitting together.

“Sir, we aren’t asking out of pure curiosity,” Badeea told him. “We are curious, of course, but mainly we are trying to do something good and worthy, like you. There are dark witches and wizards trying to access the power inside the Vaults and use it for their own gain. We are trying to get there first, and we have nearly reached our goal. If you help us, we might well achieve it.”

“I do not shake my head because I do not wish to tell you about Morgana - though I do have my reservations about doing so,” said Merlin, with a deep sigh. “I shake my head because you have misinterpreted the information you have received.”

“How so?”

“Morgan le Fay did not seek to destroy the Vaults. Morgan le Fay created the Vaults.”

Badeea’s brown eyes widened and Artemis frowned, her mind reeling. Merlin continued:

“She and I attended Hogwarts together in our adolescence. We were here at the very beginning, you know. Taught by Salazar Slytherin himself, some of the very last students to have been taught by him, before the schism.”

“The schism?” Artemis asked.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know about the schism, girl,” Merlin tutted. “Education these days… Salazar Slytherin left the school to the remaining three Hogwarts founders - Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff - over a dispute regarding which students were worthy of being taught magic, and which were… not.”

“Muggleborns,” whispered Badeea, her lips pursed tightly. Merlin nodded.

“Indeed. Slytherin did not wish to teach students who were not of magical lineage, Morgana included. She was the child of two Muggles - noble Muggles, mind you - but Muggles all the same,” Merlin sighed. “Slytherin was not the only one to believe that those without magical blood were inferior to pure-blooded wizards. Even after he left the castle, Morgana had to work twice as hard as our peers to be considered half as competent.” He paused and smiled wryly, before adding, “In truth, with her talents and power, she surpassed all of them. All but one, perhaps.”

“Who was that?”

“Well… me,” said Merlin, bowing his head as if he were making a modest comment. “I dare say that she was my equal. But this could be wishful thinking on my part. She truly was a most remarkable sorceress. We shall not see her likes again, for better or worse.

“I think it was her wish to prove herself and be recognised for the great witch she was - because she was a great witch, even if she was not a good one in the end - that drove her looking for greater powers, ones that exist at the very limits of what magic can achieve. And because of the snobbery she faced by her fellow witches and wizards, she was willing to look beyond the limits of the sort of magic to which our kind is more more accustomed.”

“She went to the centaurs, you mean?” said Artemis.

“Yes and no. She learned some noble and primitive forms of magic from the centaurs, including that of prophecy, as you mentioned,” Merlin replied. “However, in her efforts to foretell the future, she foresaw this darkness of which you speak, though the darkness was not that of the Vaults itself. Or perhaps it was, looking back.

“You see, once Morgana foresaw this great darkness, she redoubled her efforts to find greater powers that might be used to prevent or fight against it. At that time, she and I were one another’s trusted confidants, and thus I was the first she told after she found what she believed to be the greatest one of all.”

“What was it?” Artemis asked Merlin. “The greatest power of all, what was that?”

“She called it the ‘true’ power, but what it was exactly, she would not tell even me. She wanted to keep it a secret, to protect it. That was why she started to create the Vaults, and the enchantments to protect them. 

“At first, I tried to help her, but as time went on she became more secretive, more obsessive. Eventually, she the enchantments became curses, and dark and dangerous curses at that.” Merlin shuddered before continuing, “I attempted to make her see sense, but it was too late. She said the only thing that mattered was keeping the power safe for the right time and for the right people. The wrong people would surely resort to dark magic in order to access the power within, it was only right to resort to such things herself to ward against them. She thought that the ends justified the means, that it was for-”

“The greater good,” said Artemis, her jaw clenching slightly as the words echoed in her ears. Merlin inclined his head.

“I cannot help but wonder, however,” he said thoughtfully, seeming to speak as much to himself as to the two girls, “was the darkness Morgana foresaw a reflection of her true self? Or maybe Morgana’s ‘true’ power never was as good and pure as she believed it to be. The power it held over her drove her to darkness, after all. Perhaps, it was always just as evil and dangerous as she was herself, in the end.”

“The centaur I spoke to said that no power is either good or evil, it’s just the way witches and wizards use it that makes it so.”

“I am not certain that I agree, but I could be wrong. After all, I was wrong about Morgan Le Fay.”

Artemis tilted her head at Merlin. “What do you mean?”

But Merlin did not tell her what he meant. He just smiled sadly and shook his head, and said:

Green flames engulfed Artemis as she and Professor Dumbledore stepped into one of the gilded fireplaces on the right side of the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Once the flames had died down, the room outside had changed; she was back at Hogwarts, in the headmaster’s office. 

Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace and across the office to a tall cabinet. He opened its doors to reveal a wide, shallow stone dish engraved with runic symbols and filled with a silvery liquid. A blue-ish glow radiated from it and illuminated his face.

"You have seen this before, if I remember correctly," Dumbledore said. Artemis nodded her head, her hand still gripped tightly around the vial she had thrown into the fountain almost a year previously.

"It's your Penseive. You use it to help you with all your thoughts."

"Precisely. A Pensieve allows you to deposit and keep hold of memories and streams of consciousness, to review and organise at your will. This particular Pensieve is not simply mine, however. It is the property of the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts, and has therefore belonged to every witch or wizard who has held this position, and every witch or wizard who ever shall. It contains centuries' worth of collective wisdom and knowledge." Dumbledore's eyes caught the light of the Pensieve, looking bluer than ever before. He smiled before continuing, "Between this, Kingsley Shacklebolt's investigation, and the research of both your brother and Madam Rakepick, I daresay that I have been privy to more information than almost anyone about the Cursed Vaults and the group that calls themselves…"

"R."

"R, The Ronde, the cabal. They are all the same, as you know. I believe that by now, you must also know who created the Cursed Vaults."

"Morgan Le Fay," answered Artemis. "I learnt that from the centaurs and from Merlin's portrait. She discovered a great power, and made the Vaults to keep it safe, but then she turned to dark magic. That's why she added all the curses. But-"

"And you also know of Madame Fortinbras, the professor who created the Ronde and was their first leader?" Artemis nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore hadn't finished with his questions. "Artemis, do you know who was the most recent leader of the Ronde?"

"Merula's aunt. Madam Buckthorn. She stopped us by the lake."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"No," he said. "Madam Buckthorn may have been the director of R, but rather than being its leader, she acted more as the caretaker of the group in the absence of a leader."

"Oh, yeah. They wanted me to lead them because of the prophecy, the one Charlie and I stole from the Department of Mysteries." Artemis bit her lip and turned to Dumbledore to add, "Um, can you forget that I said that last part?"

"I'm afraid that my hearing is not what it once was, Miss Hexley, and I did not quite catch the last few words of what you said," said Dumbledore, but his lips twitched as if he had indeed heard and was amused by it. "Was it only you that the prophecy spoke of?"

"Well, not exactly. It just said Hexley on it, so it could've been about me or Jacob. But I picked it up, and Olivia Green said only the person a prophecy is about can do that, so it must have been about me and not Jacob all along."

"Yes and no. I'm afraid that while you are correct in some respects, you are entirely wrong in others."

"What do you mean?"

"Prophecies are fickle and endlessly cryptic things, Miss Hexley. The one of which you speak may have been about you or Jacob - or indeed, several others over the course of the centuries - but by the time you came to pick it up, certain events had occurred and created the circumstances by which the prophecy became about you," Dumbledore told Artemis, who was no less mystified than before. "The prophecy speaks of an heir, one descended from Morgan Le Fay herself, and born at the start of a new season. Professor Fortinbras thought herself the heir described in the prophecy, but it could have been any other person who meets these two criteria. The most recent leader of the Ronde thought that they themselves might be the one, until your brother came along."

"I don't-"

"You will understand once you have seen the contents of that vial you hold in your hand. You see, that bottle contains memories. The memories of two people who were at one time very closely connected with the leader of the Ronde."

Artemis frowned. "But my mother said that what was inside this was half mine."

"It is. But we will revisit your memories later. First, you must go back further." Dumbledore gestured from the vial to Pensieve and told her, "Go on. Take a look."

Not really sure what she was expecting to happen, Artemis pulled the stopper from the vial and tipped its contents into the Pensieve, which began to swirl faster and glow more brightly than before. As it did so, she could see something moving inside, a shadow or a person, and she rose onto her tiptoes and leaned forward to take a closer look. 

She must have leaned too far, however, because a moment later, the ground beneath her gave a sudden lurch and she found herself falling - or perhaps being pulled - down into the Pensieve, which was far darker and colder than she had imagined it would be.

When she stopped falling, she found herself standing not in Dumbledore's office, but another room entirely. Like the office, the room had high ceilings and walls lined with books, but it was rectangular and far larger than the headmaster's office. It was filled with people, most of whom were reading or writing quietly, and all of whom were around her age or younger. It was a school library, she realised, but not that of Hogwarts, for the walls were of red brick rather than sandstone, and the students wore uniforms of blue and burgundy, not black.

"Excuse me," Artemis said to one of the students, who did not respond. She spoke louder. "Hello? Where is this?"

But the student clearly couldn't hear her, even though the library was silent. Almost silent, anyway. Two girls her own age were giggling quietly as they took books from one of the shelves and pretended to read them, all the while watching a wizard in the far corner of the room who was sitting at a desk all alone, and not wearing a uniform. Artemis wandered over to them so she could hear their hushed conversation.

"Whatever he's working on must be awfully important," said one of the girls, in an accent Artemis recognised as being American. "I've only ever seen him in the library. He's never once eaten in the hall - I'm not even sure he does eat - or anywhere else around the grounds, either. He just stays in here."

"Maybe he can't leave. Perhaps he's a vampire," whispered the second girl, and the first gasped quietly.

"Or maybe he's working on something so top secret and important that he's not even permitted to leave his desk even to have a meal."

Behind them, a third girl with her back to them shook her head, her long dark hair brushing the small of her back as it moved from side to side. She turned away from the bookshelf and joined them, a daring smile playing on her face, which was pretty and somehow familiar to Artemis, though she was not sure how.

"If you're so intrigued, why don't you go over there and ask him?" suggested the girl, raising a single eyebrow at her peers, who both blushed and shook their heads. She rolled her large hazel eyes dramatically. "Fine, then. If you two are too chicken, I'll go over and talk to him."

"But he never speaks to anyone!"

"Well, maybe he'll speak to me."

With an air of confidence, the girl pushed her dark hair back behind her shoulders and looked determinedly at the wizard on the far side of the library. Artemis frowned. She really did look familiar, as if she ought to recognise her. It was only once the girl started to walk away from her friends and straight past Artemis as if she hadn't even seen her standing there that she realised who she was.

"Ma?"

The girl who looked so much and yet not at all like Sara Hexley strode across the library in the direction of the lone wizard, Artemis following behind her, unseen and uncomprehending. As they reached the wizard, Artemis' mother leant against his desk next to him and cleared her throat. The wizard looked up at her. Now that Artemis could see his face, it was clear that he was a few years older than the students in the library. He had untidily cropped brown hair, brown eyes with a distinct ring of green around the pupil, and a face that again was distantly recognisable.

"Dad?"

"May I help you?" asked the wizard Artemis assumed must be her father, his clipped voice so contrasting with those of the girls she had listened to on the other side of the library.

"Actually, yes," Artemis' mother answered, before Artemis had a chance to speak. "My friends over there were just wondering who you are and what it is you're studying so hard that none of us have ever seen you outside of the library since you first showed up here."

"If your friends are so curious to know, why didn't they come here and ask me themselves?"

"They're  too nervous."

"I see," Leander Hexley raised his eyebrows. "You're less easily scared."

Sara shrugged. "I was junior state champion for duelling last year. It takes a lot more than some Brit with a pile of textbooks to scare me. No offence."

"None taken," said Artemis' father. "My name is Leander Hexley. I work for the British Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Mysteries."

"So, you're an international man of mystery, huh?"

"I suppose that I am."

"And what brings you to Ilvermorny Academy?"

"I'm afraid that I'm not actually allowed to talk about my work."

"Even if I promise to keep a secret?"

"You just said that your friends sent you over here to find out."

"I can make something up to tell them," Sara smiled sweetly, tilting her head to one side. "Go on. Your secret's safe with me."

As if he could tell that it was pointless to argue, Leander sighed. "Very well. I'm conducting research into Wampus cats."

"Why?"

"Too help us gain more insight into the process of thought, particularly in respect to the skill - or art, depending how you look at it - of Legilimency." Sara scowled at Leander's words, and he frowned before asking her, "You take offence at the idea?"

"You would too if your mother was a Legilimens," said Sara, and Leander's eyebrows shot upwards. She exhaled softly through her nose, her scowl softening. "Natural born, and no, I didn't inherit it. Apparently it can skip a generation or something."

"So I've heard. That must be frustrating."

"It can be. Means I've gotten pretty good at Occlumency, though." Sara shrugged again. "Hey, you know, I don't mind helping out with anything, if you..."

Leander Hexley bowed his head, smiling to himself. "That's very kind of you... Ah. What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. But it's Sara. Sara Kowalski. But most people just call me Sally."

The library began to swirl around Artemis, and the scenery shifted. She was now standing outside in the sunshine, in a garden that she immediately recognised as that of her great-aunt and uncle in Dorset. Leander was sporting dress robes, his arm around Sara's waist. She was smiling broadly, her spare hand resting on the gentle bulge of her stomach that was poorly hidden below her white dress.

The world swirled again, and Artemis was now standing in the hallway of  the dark narrow house in Lovelace Crescent, her mother at her side. Sara was leaning against the frame of the door that led into the sitting room, where Leander was kneeling beside a small dark-haired boy, whose eyebrows were deeply furrowed in confusion.

"That puzzle is too hard for him," said Sara, folding her arms across her chest. "He's not even nine years old yet, Leander."

"He's advanced for his age," her husband replied, not looking up from the parchment he held in front of his son. "He needs to be challenged. We're raising a genius, Sally. Just think, in few years time he'll be off to school, and they won't won't know what's hit them."

He ruffled Jacob's hair and handed him the parchment, before standing up and walking across to his wife and daughter, though he behaved as if Artemis was not even there. Sara uncrossed her arms and wrapped them around him, leaning her head against his chest as she continued to watch her son.

"It'll be so quiet when he goes," she murmured. She turned her face up to her husband and told him: "We should have another one."

"We don't need another one."

"Who said anything about needing? I want another one."

More swirling, another scene, another room. Artemis’ mother's room. The scene was altogether more familiar; Sara Hexley sitting in her bed, alone. Except, she wasn't alone, for in her arms she held a baby, her forehead resting against its crown, murmuring softly to it. Artemis swallowed and stepped closer. Was that...

The bedroom door burst open, and little Jacob Hexley ran into the room, leaping up onto the bed and landing right next to his mother.

"Careful," said Sara. "You don't want to hurt your sister."

"But I wanted a brother."

"You don't get to choose," Sara laughed. "Here. You can hold her if you like." She passed the baby to Jacob and put her arm around him, repositioning his arms with her now free hands. "Jacob, this is Artemis."

Jacob blinked at the baby Artemis in his arms. "She's so little."

"I know, that's why you have to be careful. You have to look after babies, be good to them and protect them. You can do that, can't you?"

"I think so."

"I think so, too. You're clever and strong, like a big brother should be."

The baby who would eventually become Artemis herself reached up, and Artemis watched her mother place her brother's little finger into her palm. Jacob smiled and nodded his head.

"You're right. I am both of those things," he said, and Sara laughed as she placed a kiss on both her children's heads.

Artemis stepped forward, longing to join the three of them, but as she did, the scene shifted once more. Sara held a slightly older baby Artemis on her lap, reading from an open book. From outside the room came the sound of raised voices, and she paused frowning. She closed the book, and stood up, still holding her daughter, and walked towards the study, from which Jacob ran out, his face red with anger and wet with tears.

"I hate you!" he shouted back into the room. 

"Hey," said Sara, bouncing the now crying Artemis on her hip in what seemed like a pointless attempt to soothe her. "Don't say things like that."

Jacob slammed the door and ran up the stairs.

"Jacob! Come back down here and apologise to your father."

But Jacob kept running, both he and his sister clearly inconsolable.

The world shifted once more, and Artemis was no longer in the house at all, but standing on the platform of  a train station. The air around her was smoky and filled with the sound of children shouting and owls screeching, and a red engine stood waiting on the tracks. Sara, Jacob, and a little dark-haired girl who looked far more like herself than the baby from the previous memories were gathered on the platform. 

"I'm sorry your father couldn't come to say goodbye," Sara said as she released her son from a tight embrace. Jacob shook his head.

"I didn't want him to come anyway."

"Jacob..."

"It's true, Ma. I don't want him here, or anywhere near us." He exhaled, and looked around himself before pulling his mother back into another hug, whispering into her ear. Artemis leaned in closer to hear what he was saying. "Ma, you don't know him. You can't trust him, you mustn't trust him. Not with yourself, and definitely not with Missy."

"Honey, you're-"

"I mean it, Ma. Please, be careful," said Jacob. He bent down to hug the smaller Artemis, whose eyes were filled with tears. He ruffled her hair. "There's no point telling you to be careful, is there?" He crouched down as a tear rolled down Artemis' face. "I'll be back at Christmas, and I'll write to you every week until then."

"Why can't I come with you? I want to go, too."

"You will one day, Missy. Take care of mum while I'm gone."

With one last pointed look at his mother, Jacob stood up and walked away down the platform. As the train whistle blew, the scene in front of Artemis dissolved into the steam and faded to black. She felt herself turn in the air, and when her feet hit the ground, she was standing back in the headmaster's office, with Dumbledore at her side.

"What.. What was that?" she stammered.

"Memories," replied Dumbledore. "Your mother's memories."

"But why?"

"Clearly, she thought that you deserved to know the truth as much as I do."

"The truth about what?" Artemis looked at the pensieve, her eyebrows furrowing deeply. "Jacob... He said she couldn't trust our Dad."

"He did."

"And our dad... He'd be a direct descendant of Morgan le Fay too, wouldn't he?

"He would."

"He was the leader of R, wasn't he? Before he died?"

"He was," Dumbledore inclined his head. "However, he must have at some point discovered that he was not the heir of which the prophecy speaks. Whether that occurred before or after he journeyed to America, I am not sure. However, I suspect it was his interest in the Vaults that caused him to journey overseas. He said himself that he was researching Legilimency. It is my theory that he was looking for a way to open the Buried Vault. In doing so, he found your mother, the daughter of a natural-born Legilimens. The skill skipped a generation, as she said it often does, and so when Jacob and you were born, you both had the innate ability."

"Which meant we could open the Vaults, and not our dad," Artemis said. "That was why he used to do all those puzzles. It was practice for the Vaults. He was training us."

"That would be my suspicion."

"So it should've been Jacob. He always was good at the puzzles and riddles and things. Much better than I was."

"Perhaps, but as you just saw, Jacob did not trust your father, nor did he want anything to do with him and his plans," said Dumbledore, his face growing serious. "The prophecy tells of the person who will lead the way to the Cursed Vaults. It also speaks of a sacrifice."

"A life."

"Not just any life. The life of the person most dear to the one who will open the final Vault. Jacob, naturally, was not prepared to sacrifice that life. He was determined to keep the person he loved most safe."

"But the Cabal had Duncan killed anyway."

"They did. Duncan's death was an immeasurable tragedy, made even more devastating for the simple reason that it was a great waste," Dumbledore sighed sadly. "Duncan Ashe is not the person I speak of. The person Jacob loved most in the world was you." Artemis' eyes widened, and Dumbledore placed one hand on her shoulder, the other resting on the edge of the Pensieve dish. "I must warn you, Artemis, that the next memories are yours, and you will most likely be upset by them. The truth is never easy, but it is important that you know it."

Artemis shrugged. "They're just memories, Professor. I've seen them before."

"In a way, I suppose that you're right."

Before she could ask Dumbledore what he meant, the Pensieve began to swirl again, and she felt herself plummeting down through it once more. When she stopped falling, she found herself in a small, dark room with a sloping attic ceiling. Her own bedroom. In the bed, a small child was sleeping.

The door opened a little, and a narrow strip of light entered the room, shining onto the child's face. As the child squinted and rubbed her eyes, Artemis recognised her younger self. Footsteps behind her made her aware of a second person entering the room, and she turned to see her father walking across to crouch beside the bed.

"Artemis. Wake up," he said, shaking her gently. "It's time to get up."

"Is it morning already?" 

"Not yet, princess. It's still night time, but I need your help with something."

"What?" asked the younger Artemis, her head tilting and nose wrinkling in the half-light.

"Oh, I can't tell you that. It's a surprise. Do you want to help?"

The darkened room swirled, and shifted into yet another. This one, too, Artemis recognised. She had been standing in it just an hour before, and not just in a memory. 

She watched her father lead her younger self across the black tiled entrance chamber of the Department of Mysteries and through one of the identical black doors. She followed them through the door, and found herself in the great stone-stepped room with the central archway. This time, however, the veil in the arch was missing, and the room was eerily silent.

"I don't like it," said the smaller Artemis, staring at the archway with her hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her father chuckled softly.

"You're not scared are you?"

"No," Artemis watched herself stick her chin out stubbornly, though there was an undeniable waver in her voice. "I'm not scared of it, I just don't like it."

"That's okay, then," said Leander. He knelt down and placed his hands on his daughters shoulders. "Because this is what I need help with. I need you to run - as fast as you can - down all these steps and through that archway. Do you think you can do that?" 

The younger Artemis nodded her head, and her father hugged her tight to his chest. "I knew you'd be good at helping, because you are really, really special. We all love you very much. You know that, don't you?" Another nod of the little girl's head, and Leander let go of her completely. "Good. Now, run."

Artemis' blood ran cold as she watched her own face split into a broad smile, and saw herself begin to run. Her dark hair was in disarray, her feet clad in slippers, her pyjamas partly covered by a knitted jumper adorned with a pattern of blue Kneazles. She scampered down the steps, running as fast as her little legs could carry her towards the daïs with its crumbling stone arch.

"ARTEMIS, NO!"

At first, she thought that she had shouted the words herself, but the voice that cried out was not hers. Both Artemises stopped and turned to see who the voice belonged to.

Sara Hexley, her face white and filled with horror, stood in the doorway.

But not for long. She ran straight past her husband and down the steps to her daughter, placing her palms to the smaller Artemis' face, her arms, her hands, her torso.

"Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

Sara Hexley was apparently unconvinced, for the colour did not return to her cheeks and she continued to run her eyes over her child, pushing her sleeves up and hair back from her face as if looking for signs of damage. Sighing as if bored by this display of maternal concern, Leander made his way down the stone steps towards them.

"You." Sara pushed her daughter behind her as she turned towards her approaching husband, her voice shaking with rage and disgust. "Jacob said... I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him." She blinked as if forcing back tears, and asked, "It's true, isn't it? These Cursed Vaults, these people who want them... You're one of them."

"We don't want the Vaults, Sally, we want what's inside them," said Leander. "We all have wanted it for so long, needed it, and now we finally have the key to getting it. Jacob is the key, he's the one. Our son can do what no one else has done for centuries."

"And our daughter?"

"She is important, too. She has her own part to play."

Leander's eyes drifted to the stone archway, and following them, Sara's own widened to perfect circles.

"No," she said, her voice weak. "No, you can't..."

"I have to."

"I won't let you."

"You don't have a choice," Leander sighed. "Either it happens now, like this, or later, in another way. The prophecy is very clear-"

"I don't give a damn about any prophecy," Sara snapped. "This is our daughter."

"You cannot prevent the inevitable, Sally. It is prophecised, it will come to pass. At least this way, we can control how."

Sara Hexley stared at her husband. Her face began to soften, and her eyes glazed over, her face becoming unreadable. Slowly, she nodded and turned back to her daughter, holding her close and whispering into her hair. Watching on, Artemis heard her words as clearly as if she were the one being spoken to.

"Artemis, honey, I want you to show me how fast you can run, okay? When I let you go, you go run back to that door and back up the stairs. Go as far as you can, and if you find somewhere to hide, you hide. Understand?"

As she stood back up straight, Sara kept one hand on Artemis' shoulder, the other reaching for her wand.

"Go!"

The silent chamber became full of noise and movement. As her mother had instructed, the younger Artemis darted back up the stone steps, her father lunging to catch her. But Artemis had always been fast, and somehow, Sara was even faster. Quick as a flash, her wand was pointed at Leander, her feet springing into an offensive duelling position, her arm moving as she hurled spells at him with more feeling, force, and skill than Artemis had even known she possessed. Leander, now having to defend himself against his wife, had no choice but to let the younger Artemis run away. 

Meanwhile, the older Artemis stayed put, watching the duel with her mouth half-open with shock and awe as her parents continued to fight. Her mother's technique was flawless, and every spell she cast was with furious intent. Leander, even though he was defending himself both with and without his wand, was clearly no match for her.

Artemis would have stayed and watched them duel for longer, but the chamber and the lights began to swirl, spinning around her and not stopping, even as the stone steps turned into black walls and doors. In the centre of the spinning room was her younger self, eyes screwed shut and little body trembling in her blue Kneazle jumper. 

"It's okay," Artemis told herself, even though she knew that she wouldn't be able to hear. "You're going to be okay. Don't be scared."

But the younger Artemis was scared. She was terrified. Artemis tried to hug her, but her arms went straight through her. 

The doors stopped spinning and one opened. Both Artemises flinched, but the person who opened the door was Sara. she wrapped her arms around the little girl the way Artemis had tried to. 

"Where's Daddy? Why were you fighting?"

"We just had a bit of argument, that’s all. He'll come home later."

Sara led little Artemis away, and the room spun again, this time settling to form the hallway at Lovelace Crescent once more. Artemis was sitting with herself at the bottom of the staircase, and the door to the sitting room was ajar. Through it, she could hear a pair of voices.

"She's scared of me, Jacob," her mother was saying, her voice choked with tears. "I can see it, every time she looks at me."

"That's why we have to do it." 

In the doorway, Artemis could see the back of her mother's head move from side to side. Beyond her, Jacob looked through the open door and sighed before making his way over to the stairs. He hugged the younger Artemis and lifted her up, carrying her across the hallway and into the sitting room, the older Artemis following behind her.

"We can't let her remember this, Ma," he whispered, and a single tear fell down Sara Hexley's cheek as she nodded her head, just once. Jacob placed the younger Artemis down, and removed his wand from his robes.

"Ma?" said the younger Artemis, and Sara Hexley closed her eyes. "Jacob?"

Artemis had never used Gillyweed before, and she would not soon use it again. Its effects were wholly unpleasant - moments after she had swallowed the slimy tendrils of the plant, she felt a searing pain on either side of her neck. Instinctively, her hands went to the place that hurt, and her fingertips brushed over deep ridges in the skin. Gills. 

All of a sudden, she felt as if her lungs had become empty. She tried to gasp, but she could not breathe. Looking around at her companions, they were experiencing the same horrible sensation.

“The water,” Tulip gasped. “We need to get into the water.”

She dived off the jetty, and Artemis and the others followed suit, plunging themselves headfirst into the ice cold water. The second she was fully submerged, the pressure in Artemis’ chest lifted. She could breathe at last. She looked down at her hands and feet, and saw that she not only had the plant given her gills, but also webbed fingers and toes. 

The effects of the Gillyweed meant that the group were able to swim more powerfully through the lake to the cave which housed the Cursed Vault, with Artemis, Merula, and Ben leading the way through the murky depths.

Just as they had found a year previously, the closer they got to their destination, the clearer the water became. By the time the cave was visible, towering over the inky depths from the point where it extended from the floor of the lake, there was no sign that any life had been close by in years. Artemis felt a chill all over her body that she suspected had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. 

Inside the cave, there was no water at all, and the Gillyweed’s effects immediately wore off. Artemis took a deep breath through her mouth, feeling the cold, damp air fill her lungs.

"I don't like this," said Penny, staring at the walls of the cave. "I don't like this at all. It feels..."

"Evil," Tulip finished Penny's sentence for her.  Beside her, Barnaby nodded, his eyes wide and frightened.

"These places often do," said Bill. He spoke with the confidence of a seasoned curse-breaker, but Artemis could see the way his jaw had tightened. "Come on. It's high time we broke this curse. Which way do we go?"

Artemis pointed at a hole in the wall of the cave, which lead through to a second, smaller cave. With the others following behind her, she led the cave system until they reached a dead end.

"This is it," she said. "Everyone in?"

She waved her wand, casting the revealing spell Professor McGonagall had taught her in her second year, and the whole cave began to rumble and shake. The ground below trembled, and the rocks that formed the cave walls shifted so that there were seven of them, with no exit in sight. In the centre of the Vault, a glowing column rose from the ground. Bill's eyebrows raised.

"This really is it," he said. "So, what next?"

"I'm not sure," said Artemis, frowning as she stared at the glowing column. "Last time I tried Legilimency, but it didn't work. I had to touch the column - actually touch it - and then it..."

Her voice tailed off as she remembered the way the Vault had fought back; the darkness that had consumed her, the terrible memories she had been forced to relive, the feeling of deep and unending despair. She swallowed hard.

"Everything went dark and we all got stuck in a memory loop," Merula explained for her. "All our worst memories played in our heads."

"Don't forget how horrible it felt," said Ben. "Like you'd never be able to feel anything good again."

"So, the Vault is full of a big Dementor," said Barnaby. Everyone stared at him, and he nodded his head sagely.

"I'm not sure what it was," Artemis told him. "But it only went away when we had our hands holding someone else's."

“And do you have the key?”

Artemis nodded in response to Bill’s question, and held out the key. “I don’t remember there being a lock on the column, though. And if touch it with the key, won’t that make the memory loop start?”

Bill's eyebrows furrowed deeply as he looked from Artemis to the Vault and back. 

"Maybe," he said. "Okay, this is what we're going to do. Try Legilimency again first, just in case. If that doesn't work, we will have to risk releasing... whatever it is."

"The big Dementor."

"Sure, Barnaby. If we aren't affected whilst holding hands, we can buddy up until we've worked out a way to break through it."

It was as good an idea as any, so Artemis nodded and stared at the glowing column. She tried once, twice, three times to open it with Legilimency, but nothing worked.

"It's no use," she said eventually. "It's weird, like I can't connect with it. It's just pushing me out." 

“Okay. Try the key.”

“No.” Artemis tilted her head to the side. "It doesn’t want the key. I think it wants me to touch it."

"It wants-"

"I know, it sounds stupid, but it does. Maybe there's something we missed last time because we were focussing so much on getting out of those memories, or maybe the keyhole only shows up once the memories start.”

Bill looked sceptical. “Are you sure about this?”

“Not really, but we’ve got to try something, so it might as well be this. Everyone hold someone else's hand."

"Wait," said Penny, looking around at the group.

"What, Penny?"

"Well, you're supposed to be leading a circle, aren't you?" she said. "The rest of the Circle of Khanna aren't here, so maybe we should make an actual circle, just in case."

"Fine. Everyone hold two people's hands," said Artemis, and the remaining members of the Circle of Khanna linking hands to form a physical circle around her and the glowing column. She gritted her teeth. "Here goes..."

Artemis' hand trembled as she raised it and placed it flat against the glowing crystal. A second later, nothing was glowing at all. She had been plunged into total darkness. She shuddered. It felt as if she would never see the light again. 

In the distance, she could hear a train whistle, and smell smoke. She was standing on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and a much younger Jacob was crouched in front of her, his face level with hers as a tear ran down her cheek. He wiped it away before standing up and leaving her, and a hand on her shoulder stopped her from following him. 

Another hand linked with her own, and the darkness disappeared. Jacob was gone and the glowing crystal was back, and so were her friends, standing hand-in-hand around it.  She looked down at her left hand and saw that Merula had taken it in her right. Artemis gave Merula a grateful smile and stepped back so that she was in line with her and Charlie, using her free hand to wipe the tear from her cheek before placing it into Charlie's palm to complete the circle.

"Now what?" she asked. "Anyone see a keyhole or anything? Or got any other ideas?"

"Maybe there's a clue somewhere?" suggested Tonks. "Inscribed on a wall or on the crystal or something..."

But the walls were bare, and there didn't seem to be anything written on the glowing column.

"You could try Legilimency again."

Artemis did so, with no success. The column remained closed, its soft golden glow the only light inside the Vault. 

"Nothing," she said, after yet another failed attempt at getting the Vault to open. "It's still shutting me out."

"I wonder..." murmured Ben, but then he shook his head. "No."

"What, Ben?"

"No. Forget it. You can't try that."

"Right now, I'll try anything."

Ben sighed. "Okay. So, last time we were in that loop, we saw things. Memories, visions. I saw what really happened to me when I got stuck in the ice and lost my memories, right? I saw the truth."

"The Vaults of Truth," said Artemis, her eyes widening. "That's what Merlin said the Cursed Vaults were called when Morgana first created them. Maybe that's it, the answer is in the visions you get from the Vault!"

Penny looked at her nervously. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It's got to be worth a try. After all, didn't the prophecy say that I had to go through the darkness?" 

"It also said that you had to be guided by a light..."

"Then I'll light my wand first," Artemis said. Her mind made up, she let go of Charlie's hand and drew her wand. "Lumos!"

"Artemis..."

"They're just visions. They can't hurt me. Besides, if I really struggle, one of you can just grab my hands and pull me back."

She pointed her lit wand at the glowing crystal column and steeled herself. Slowly, she released her grip on Merula's hand, and the world went black again. 

Artemis squinted in the darkness, trying to see the lit tip of her wand, but it had disappeared, along with the column and the circle of her friends. She took a step forward, hoping that it was a step in the right direction. 

It was a step in some direction, at least, and looking down she could see that it was in the direction of the ancient stone arch from the Department of Mysteries, though its veil had been removed and it was no longer whispering.

"Go on, then," said a man's voice from behind her, and she ran towards it, running as fast as she could without tripping on the stone steps, stopping only as she heard her name being called out from behind her. 

She turned around to see who had called, and found that she was no longer in the room with the archway, but in the room with the doors outside, all spinning around her. The dizziness she felt was at least a change from the sensation of overwhelming dread and despair, and she welcomed that change. As her mother's teary face appeared in front of her and Jacob pointed his wand to her temple, she felt more confused than she did filled with dread and horror. Artemis frowned, and held on to that feeling as another vision appeared in the darkness. And another. And another.

The visions were coming thicker and faster, and they were all scenes that she remembered from her life. Memories. The night Jacob left, her mother avoiding eye contact, a Devil's Snare wrapping itself around her and squeezing her until she couldn't breathe, Fergus limp in her arms, a bolt of ice bursting out from the door of the first Cursed Vault and hitting Rowan square in the chest.

Rowan...

The silver frames of Rowan's glasses glistened for a fraction of a second before the scene changed again, as if they had caught a fragment of light that Artemis couldn't see. But though she had not seen the light itself, she had seen its reflection, and that was all she needed. 

The light was there, somewhere in these memories. She just had to search each and every one until she found it. After all, they were just memories. She'd seen them before, and she could see them again. Artemis steeled herself, determined to find something - anything - even remotely good in the worst moments of her life.

A Boggart advanced on her, but Tulip was by her side. A spider was advancing on her, but Bill was charging at it with his wand raised in front of him. Barnaby was looking at her with an expression of deep sadness in his eyes. She had broken his heart, and Artemis felt awful for it, but she reasoned that if his heart could be broken, it could be mended, too. Rakepick was casting the Cruciatus Curse on Merula, and she was in so much pain that Artemis could feel it, too. But Merula was strong, and so was Artemis. They could deal with pain, wasn’t that what Rosmerta had told her once? 

A Dementor glided towards her from the trees, and Artemis raised her wand. She tried desperately to cast a Patronus, but she couldn't. How could she, when everything felt so hopeless, like nothing would ever be good again? It was a miracle that she could produce even the tiniest wisp of white light.

Light...

She had to keep on searching, even though it was getting harder. Rowan was in her arms, her heart no longer beating. She was dead, but she wasn't gone, not really, because Artemis carried her with her everywhere, and she always would. That was something. It was something. 

Even when Penny and Tonks were looking at her as if they despised the person she had become, and Charlie had her wand and wouldn't give it back, and she beat against his chest and cried until she had no more tears left to cry, she still had something. She had them. 

Her heart began to race as the darkness grew bleaker still. She was in the forest once more, and a wolf was advancing on her, teeth bared and no trace of humanity in its monstrous hungry eyes. But she knew now that the wolf was not a monster at all, because it was Chiara. Chiara was a werewolf and that was the truth.

The truth...

Artemis had to keep going. She had to know the truth. But first she had to tell the truth, even though it scared her. Even though it might mean losing everyone else she cared about, but of course, she knew that it wouldn't. The truth would bring her friends closer together, and now the Circle of Khanna were together, and Bill was teaching them how to cast a Patronus, but Artemis couldn't do it anymore. Her Patronus had left her when Rowan had left her, like everyone left her. 

But that wasn't true, was it? Rowan could never leave her, not really, and her friends were still here, somewhere in the darkness, and her Patronus had come back to her in the end, quick and powerful and beautiful and made of pure, brilliant light.

Artemis frowned, and raised her hand. She couldn't feel her wand, but she knew that she was holding it. She closed her eyes, making the darkness hers, and hers alone.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

She hadn't intended to call out the enchantment so loudly. Until she had done so, she wasn't sure that she had intended to cast the spell at all. But she had, and when she opened her eyes, she needed to blink as her eyes adjusted to the light.

In front of her was her Patronus, its silver-white cheetah body almost blindingly bright in comparison to the pitch darkness surrounding it. The cheetah looked her in the eye before turning around and padding away from her.

It wanted her to follow it, she could tell. With her wand still raised in front of her, Artemis followed the cheetah through the darkness, one step at a time, until it stopped beside something tall, glowing, and golden. The central column of the Vault. 

Artemis nodded her thanks at her Patronus, and stared at the column, willing it to open, but it did not. She placed her palm against the cool surface of the crystal, but still nothing happened. She sighed, and looked down at her cheetah Patronus, which blinked at her slowly.

"You want a go?" she asked it, and she pointed her wand at the glowing column. 

The Patronus stepped closer to the column, so close that Artemis could see the tearstain-like markings on its face reflected in the crystal. It bowed its head lower, and touched the column with its nose.  The sides of the column sprang apart, but the darkness did not fade.

Frowning deeply, Artemis peered inside the column. there was nothing inside it but a  floating ball of glowing light. She stepped up and inside, and the light surrounded her,  bathing her in its warm golden glow. She was supposed to do something, she realised, but she had no idea what.

Then, suddenly,  she did.

Go, the light seemed to tell her. Go on. 

She looked at the light that coated her entire body. She didn't know where the light wanted her to go, but she knew she had to follow it. And she would. 

With a deep breath, Artemis closed her eyes, and Apparated into the light.

When she opened her eyes again, she was alone. The Cursed Vault was gone and she was somewhere else entirely, though where, she had no clue. All she knew was that she was standing in some kind of spring, though when she looked at her feet, she found that they were not wet at all. 

Frowning, she bent down to touch the spring at her feet, but as her fingertips were almost grazing it, it moved out of her reach, towards a trickling stream that led away from her.

She stood back up straight and looked around herself. She could not tell where she was at all. The space around her seemed out of focus, shifting strangely. In one direction, it looked like she was on a cliff path overlooking the sea, in another an orchard, and in a third, a high-ceilinged room like one of the classrooms at Hogwarts. 

The only thing that really seemed to be clear was the spring and its stream, though those were both strange. The water - was it even water? - seemed to disappear and fade away whenever she looked directly at it. In her peripheral vision, she could see it better, but it was of no discernible colour, it made no noise at all, and had no set form. It could have been liquid, or air, or even light. Whatever it was, it was flowing away from the source, and for whatever reason, Artemis found herself walking after it. 

She had no idea how long she went on for, following the current of the mysterious flowing substance as it meandered through the strange scenery that she could not quite identify. 

It was as if neither time nor space truly existed here - wherever here was - and though perhaps she should have felt scared, she did not. Or, at least, she did not feel only scared. She felt warm and peaceful and safe, in spite of the fact that she was walking towards the unknown. It was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant at all. If anything, she felt alive - truly alive.

Eventually, she came to an abrupt halt, as she reached the edge of a precipice, and the ground in front of her stopped entirely. The stream, however, did not. It continued to flow over the edge and down into what looked like a large basin or pool several feet below. 

Artemis didn't think twice. She jumped off from the precipice and down into the pool, expecting a great impact or large splash as she hit either the bottom or the surface, but she got neither. She landed in the pool as gently as if she had stepped into it, and the substance inside was not displaced by her arrival at all. 

She looked up to see how far she had descended, but the shower of water-light-air behind her seemed to cascade gently down from a height so great that she could no longer see the top, floating gracefully down like specks of dust glowing in a sunbeam. 

There was no way of going back the way she had come, Artemis realised, so she would have to go on. Reluctantly, she stepped out of the pool filled with the mysterious glowing substance, and onto the ground around it. She was in a room, she realised, surrounded by dark stone walls, and with a single door directly opposite the not-quite-a-waterfall. She walked to it, and tried to push it open, but it was locked.

"Alohamora," she said, pointing her wand at the door. Nothing happened. "Bombarda!"

But the door stood steadfast and un-openable. She pursed her lips and looked at it more closely. She recognised it. It looked almost identical to the doors of the rooms in the Department of Mysteries, however, this door had a keyhole. Her eyes widened, and her hand reached for the silver Gillyweed key in her pocket. Slowly, she inserted the key into the lock and turned it slowly until she heard a click. 

This time, when she pushed the door, it opened. Artemis stepped through it, and found herself...

In the Department of Mysteries.

No, she thought. That couldn't be right. And yet, it was. She recognised the black tiled walls and floors that reflected the blue-flamed candles that hovered between each of the identical black doors. 

Behind her, Artemis heard her own door swing shut, and the click of it locking itself once more. Her heart sank slightly as she realised that she had left the key on the other side. She attempted to open the door once more - the scents of a sea breeze, Firewhiskey, leather, and toasted marshmallows piecing her nostrils as she did so - but it was no use. Even if she still had the key, there was no keyhole on this side of the door. She was locked out.

"Congratulations, Miss Hexley," said a voice behind her, and she turned around to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway directly across the circular hall from her. He bowed his head at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "It is rather fitting, don't you think?" 

"What is?" asked Artemis.

"Your search for the Cursed Vaults began with a locked door. Now, it has ended with one as well. It is funny how things can come full circle, don't you think?"

"Professor, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Dumbledore said simply. "I suspected that I might find you here this evening, and - as they often are - my suspicions have proved to be correct."

"You mean, you knew the Vaults would lead me here?"

"I knew that the Vaults would lead you to a great power, the greatest power known to wizardkind. I - like many before me - have asked myself what that great power might be. You have now answered my question. I believe, however, that after all these years, I still have not answered many of yours."

"No, you haven't," Artemis told him. "What is inside that room? Why did the Vaults take me there? Does this mean that the Vaults are properly finished now? Do you-"

Dumbledore raised his hand and Artemis fell silent. 

"Not here," he said, holding his arm out to her. Apprehensively, Artemis took it, and a second later, found herself standing one floor up, inside the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, right next to the fountain of magical brethren. "I will respond to all your questions once we are back at the castle, Artemis. However, in order to find some of the answers you seek, you must first look a little deeper..."

His gaze grew pointed as he looked down into the fountain. Artemis looked down into the water, and saw a small brown parcel tied with gold string. It was the parting gift her mother had left her back in the summer, the one she had not wanted, in spite of it apparently being half hers. A part of her still didn't want it, but the meaningfulness of Dumbledore's stare made it clear to her that she should take it. 

She reached down into the water and pulled the parcel out, feeling firmness of the item inside before opening it to reveal a tiny vial filled with wispy silver fluid.

"Another prophecy?" she asked, tilting the bottle and watching the way the light hit its contents. Dumbledore shook his head.

"Not quite, Miss Hexley. Prophecies deal with the future, this is grounded in the past," he said. "It contains memories."

"Whose memories?"