Facing Danger
Chapter 19: When We Shall See with Clearer Sight (Year 5)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 19: When We Shall See with Clearer Sight
Ron sat beside the cauldron, watch in his hand, while Hermione stirred carefully clockwise. "Five seconds," he warned. "Three, two, one, stop."
Hermione lifted the stirring stick free and laid it down on their desk. "What’s next?" she asked, coming around to look at the instructions in their text.
"Er..." Ron ran his finger down the list, looking for the bit they’d been doing. Cacao leaf, did that, shaved Augurey talon, did that, crushed hedgehog spines, didn’t do that—here we are.
"Here," he said, pointing at the place, just as Hermione came in from the side to do the same.
Their fingers met on the page.
"Sorry," said Hermione quickly, snatching her hand away. "Sorry, it was an accident—"
"No, it was my fault—"
"As amusing as I find your flirtations, Weasley, Granger-Lupin," said Snape icily from above them, "they will not get your potion brewed. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Ron bit down hard on the inside of his lip as Hermione flushed.
Snape peered into their cauldron, wafted a bit of the steam up to his face, and sniffed. His eyebrows rose. "Passable," he said flatly. "As was," he added in a lower tone, leaning over the desk as though castigating them, "the job done by whoever took it upon themselves to discomfort Dolores Umbridge in this latest pass."
Automatically, Ron glanced left, towards the table where Draco and Neville were working. Snape followed his look and snorted. "I suppose I should not be surprised," he said louder. "At your usual level of work, Weasley, I doubt you could produce a simple Swelling Solution on your own. Do attempt to recall that O.W.L.s are done individually." He turned and stalked away to criticize the level at which Parvati Patil had set her fire.
Ron glared at the black-robed back, visualizing the effect of a cauldronful of hot potion suddenly poured on that greasy head.
"Quidditch next week," Hermione whispered. "Just think about beating Slytherin..."
Ron thought about it, and about the look on Snape’s face afterwards, and suddenly hot potion seemed less appealing. "Are you sure?" he asked, fumbling in the bag for the hedgehog spines. "You haven’t been to practice lately. I keep dropping the Quaffle."
"Oh, you won’t. Not in a real game." Hermione squeezed his arm. "I have confidence in you, Ron. You’ll do fine."
"Are you sure?"
"I’m sure."
Heartened, Ron bent over to start measuring the hedgehog spines. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione moving, but figured it was none of his business.
He might have been more interested if he’d known she was winking at Draco.
xXxXx
Harry licked his lips, stirring his body cautiously. He’d come very close to his two hours this time, and he could feel it in how stiff his muscles were.
I am going to be so glad to go to class again.
And I never thought I’d say that.
But class was over for the day, there was still an hour until dinner, and Ginny had agreed to meet him in the Forest.
And if we catch something, then we don’t have to go in for dinner. Or maybe I can have her over for it. Umbridge hasn’t started taking roll at meals yet...
Harry rolled over onto his stomach and arched his back, first down, then up. "Better," he said, coming to hands and knees. "Much better." One foot under him, then the other, and he was on his feet. After a detour to the bathroom for a drink of water, he loped over to the Quidditch pitch and shut the door firmly behind him.
The goal hoops seemed to beckon, but he shook his head. "Not today," he said aloud to them. "I’d just be thinking about the team."
Ron, Ginny, and Draco had tactfully refrained from discussing Quidditch practice in front of Harry for nearly two months. It hadn’t seemed to occur to any of them that he saw Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Fred, and George on a regular basis through the DA, and was therefore perfectly well-supplied with news about the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"Ginny makes a fair Seeker," Angelina had said at the meeting the week before. "Not in your class, of course, Harry, but as good as anything Slytherin’s got. Higgs left last year, so they’re fielding someone brand-new. Ginny’s year, as it happens. Kid called Carrow."
Blaise Zabini, practicing the Reductor Curse a short distance away, had turned sharply at the mention of this name.
"How is he?" Harry had asked casually, glancing towards the small ‘labyrinth’ in the corner where they practiced close-quarters work. Graham was in there at the moment with the rest of the second and third years, playing tag with Combat Club wands.
"As a Seeker, he’s passable. I think Ginny’s got him beat. But as a person..." Angelina had left it hanging.
Harry shook off the memory and stepped into the broomshed. None of them will get close to him, except maybe Ginny, and she can handle him.
"Thank you, Salazar," he said aloud in Parseltongue, grimacing as he did. Have to ask Alex if there’s some way to reset these.
The back of the broomshed split open, and Harry stepped forward and let the magic carry him into the tube. This one was significantly larger than the rest, as though it had been designed for something that wasn’t human.
Maybe it was. The password’s in snake, and Sangre was Slytherin’s to begin with. Though why he’d bring her into the Founders’ private place...
Could he already have been planning what he’d do? Built in secret ways to hurt them, attack them, even while they were building the school?
Harry shook off these thoughts and fumbled in his pocket for his Invisibility Cloak. I love how small this thing crumples. You’d think a cloak big enough to cover a person all over would make a bigger lump...
Invisible, he stepped out into the weak sunlight of a November afternoon and peered towards the castle. Small black shapes milled about, but he was only interested in one—the one coming towards him, with long hair shining the same color as the setting sun.
She’s beautiful. How did I never see that before?
Harry shook his head. Never mind. I see it now. And I’m not going to stop seeing it if I can help it!
He turned and started for the Forest, already planning. We can just run for a while, hunt if she wants to, find Sangre and tell her what’s happened, though I bet she knew before I did...
A familiar spot at the Forest’s edge caught his eye, a place where the grass was still green, even this far into November, and he stopped just for a moment to bow his head.
I still miss Siss sometimes. But Letha was right—it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. I can think about the good times we had, and what she’d say about things that have happened since, like me and Ginny...
Harry chuckled, pulling the Cloak off as he got between the trees. Siss’d probably have nipped me for being stupid enough to moon over Cho for two bloody years. She never did have a high tolerance for idiots.
He stowed the Cloak in his pocket again, found a good-sized tree to hide behind, and changed just in time, as Ginny strolled into the verge of the Forest, her hand on her wand and her eyes wicked. "Oh, Wolfie," she sing-songed as she passed his tree. "I have a surprise for you..."
Wolf huffed and bounded out of concealment, hurling himself at the backs of Ginny’s knees. She squealed and collapsed on top of him, and Harry quickly changed back and twisted to catch her in his arms. "Nobody," he said firmly, "is allowed to call me Wolfie."
"Nobody?" Ginny pouted prettily. "Draco calls Hermione Neenie."
"Well, if you want to be my twin sister instead of my mate..."
Ginny shut him up effectively before he could continue that heretical notion.
Harry was panting like Wolf after a hunt when they finally broke it off. "Keep doing that and you can call me anything you like," he said breathlessly.
"Anything?" Ginny grinned. "Even my sweet Wolfie-poo?"
"Well..."
Ginny slung an arm around his neck and pulled his head down to hers.
"I’ll think about it," Harry said when he could speak again.
xXxXx
The weather was cool and crisp, the hunting had been good, and the companionship was excellent, if slightly unnatural to Wolf’s instincts. Harry had booted these instincts to the back of Wolf’s mind, where they were currently curled up, sulking. Nothing was going to ruin his evening with Ginny, nothing...
Lynx turned her head and yowled uneasily. Wolf sneezed as the wind brought him the scent she’d obviously caught. Human, young, male, nearby, and badly frightened. And now that he knew what to listen for, he could hear the quiet whimpers of someone who didn’t have the strength left to pretend he wasn’t crying.
I should stop making pronouncements. God, or Fate, or someone else—much more likely someone else—has a sense of humor. Wolf cocked his head and glared at the sky. You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are, you know that?
The sky did not answer, but Wolf was sure that somewhere, Alexander Slytherin was sniggering at him.
Lynx flirted her small tail at Wolf. Follow? she asked silently. See who and what?
Wolf sniffed the breeze again. The scent was familiar, but only in a desultory way. He didn’t know this person, or at least not well. Still, the unknown was almost certainly a Hogwarts student, and it couldn’t hurt just to look...
He nodded and started forward, Lynx flanking him, her fur on end as the scent got more acrid. The sound of running water reached their ears, and suddenly they were looking out over a small stream, burbling over stones along its way.
A boy lay crumpled by the side of the stream, his shoulders shaking. There was no blood-scent coming from him, so he wasn’t hurt, but the stench of fear rose off him almost palpably. And not just any fear, Harry realized with a start inside Wolf’s mind—no, it was a very particular kind of fear, one he knew himself...
He pulled back through the underbrush and retransformed, pulling his chain out of his robes. Lynx nudged her head through it as soon as he’d made it long enough. What is it? she asked, lying down in the fallen leaves and poking her head back through the brush to peer at the dark-haired boy. Someone you know? I don’t recognize him.
Maybe when I see his face. Harry slid back into Wolf’s form and lay down beside Lynx. But I know what he’s afraid of. Here.
He touched the memory within his mind gently, drawing it out where Lynx could examine it. Feel that. Smell it. Do you think it matches?
Almost exactly. Lynx drew her lips back from her teeth and hissed softly. Someone wants to do to him what they did to Graham. Cage him. Lock him up, until he loses his mind, or his spirit. Graham might have, if you hadn’t found him, you know. He was very close.
I know. Wolf refrained from mentioning the nights he knew Graham spent on the Quidditch pitch, with its ceiling like the Great Hall and the artificial breezes that swept through it. We need to know who this is before we can work out how to help him...
There’s an easy way to find out. Lynx let an image cross her mind.
Wolf recoiled in shock. Are you crazy?
Maybe. But if he’s as tired and scared as his scent says he is, he might well think he’s imagining things. And as long as we don’t leave any evidence on him, he can’t prove otherwise.
Wolf grumbled. I think there’s a Pack law about alphas not being allowed to be insane.
In which case, you’re disqualified, Mister Voluntarily-Faced-Voldemort-At-The-Age-Of-Eleven.
...you fight dirty.
All girls do. Shall we go?
xXxXx
Theodore Nott had never been this far into the Forbidden Forest before. Part of his mind was hysterically listing off every carnivorous beast Professor Hagrid had ever taught them about, but a larger portion was starkly positive that being devoured would be a better fate than going back to the castle and facing the letter lying on his bed.
It would hurt a lot, but then it would be over. And at least animals don’t torture you first. Unless eating you alive counts. But even then, you’d bleed to death so fast...
"Mmrrrr?"
Theo snapped upright so fast he heard his robe tear.
Slit-pupiled brown eyes looked into his from a distance of less than a foot.
"Gaaahhh!" Theo scooted backwards frantically, suddenly far less sure he wanted to be eaten. He could just see the tips of teeth poking out of the big cat’s mouth—what is it? I’ve never seen a cat like that before—and they looked sharp.
And then the cat’s lips curled back, and he could see a lot more of its teeth.
Theo felt down his side for his wand, wondering if he could hit this thing with an Impediment Jinx before it pounced—
The cat snarled, its front claws flexing in and out, its back end slowly wiggling the way Theo had seen his mother’s cat do when it was about to pounce on a mouse—
A sharp growl, and a larger form interposed itself between boy and cat. Theo gulped, staring at this new threat, and a memory from third year Defense class floated back into his mind. "Who can tell me which of these creatures is the werewolf and which the true wolf?"
It doesn’t really matter right now—either one can kill me...
The wolf turned its head to look at him, and Theo blinked at the intelligence in its eyes—its green eyes. He’d seen eyes like that somewhere before...
The cat stalked out from behind the wolf and approached him, its eyes—just as intelligent as the wolf’s, Theo realized suddenly—fixed on his wand hand. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers and brought his hand out empty. "I don’t want to hurt you," he said, hating the squeak in his voice. "Just..." He shivered, realizing he should have brought a cloak. But it won’t matter in a minute.
The cat was almost to him now, its gaze wondering and intent. Theo fumbled open the neck of his robes, shivering even harder with the combination of the chill air on his chest and the knowledge of what was about to happen. "Do it fast," he said, closing his eyes for a second, then quickly opening them again—waiting was bad enough, waiting in the dark would be worse. "Please."
The cat stopped short, blinking. Then it turned back and made eye contact with the wolf. Theo stifled a hysterical laugh as his gaze picked out a gleam of gold in the air between them. Wonderful, now I’m imagining animals that wear necklaces...
The cat turned back to him, leapt forward—Theo braced himself—
And landed squarely in his lap.
A rumbling purr swept through the outsized feline body, shaking Theo with its force, and the tip of a tooth scraped against his collarbone as the cat rubbed its face against him.
This can’t be happening. Wild animals don’t do this—
So maybe they’re not wild animals. Maybe they’re tame. Or something else entirely.
The wolf padded forward and sat down beside him, then flopped over on its side in the leaves with a sigh. It lifted its head to bump against Theo’s hand, and Theo automatically scratched between the pointed ears.
Whatever they are, they act friendly, and that’s more than I usually get—more than I get from anyone—
A raspy cat tongue washed his chin, and Theo felt himself starting to shake again, more tears coming to his eyes, after he’d thought he’d cried himself out—
"It’s not fair," he whispered, curling his other arm around the cat, feeling its purr intensify as though in response to his tears. "It’s not fair. He’s my father. He’s supposed to take care of me, not—not use me like a counter in a damned game! I don’t want this! I never wanted it! And I don’t even know what I do want, because I spent too long trying to want what he wanted, and now I don’t even know who I am..."
The wolf whuffled against his hand, the cat—lynx, his mind finally identified with the perversity of thought—purred louder still, and Theo lost the little control he’d had left. "It wasn’t even my fault!" he screamed aloud into the air. "I didn’t have anything to do with it, not a thing, and he knows that, and he doesn’t care! He just needs someone to blame, because otherwise his precious Dark Lord will blame him, because he was the ranking one there, and I’m handy because he took me there once and showed me what was going on, so now he’s going to claim it was me..."
Another paroxysm of shivering swept over him, and he felt the wolf sitting up, leaning into his side as though to warm him. "I almost wish I had done something," he said dully. "I wanted to. It was wrong, it was awful, but I couldn’t do anything, not with all of them watching—I wish I knew who did do it, I’d at least shake their hands before it happens to me..." A painful laugh forced its way out of him. "Maybe they’d come back and do it again for me. Doubt it, though. Pritchard’s worth a lot more than I am."
The lynx yowled sharply as the wolf stiffened under his arm, and Theo blinked and looked at them. "What—did I say something..."
Something on the wolf’s face caught his eye. A thin, jagged line of white fur, above and between the eyes—the green eyes, surrounded by slightly lighter circles on the dark fur—
Dark hair. Green eyes. Glasses. Lightning-bolt—
"Potter!" Theo blurted.
The wolf snarled and lunged at him. The lynx dived out of the way, hissing, as Theo hit the ground hard, paws planted on his upper arms and gleaming teeth an inch from his throat. Oh God I was wrong I don’t want to die—
"Harry, NO!" shouted a girl’s voice.
The wolf’s rippling growl made its sentiments entirely clear.
Theo felt a hand in his wand pocket, and caught just a glimpse of red hair out the corner of his eye—why am I not surprised?—before the hand withdrew, taking his wand with it. "Let him up," Ginny Weasley ordered. "He knows he can’t hurt us."
The wolf snorted, then let its lips fall back over its teeth. Its head went forward, and a cold nose nudged Theo’s chin, hard. The message was clear. Stay still or I will deal with you myself.
Theo froze in place, and the wolf leapt off him, shook itself, and rippled in an eye-blurring instant into a person who wasn’t even supposed to be at Hogwarts anymore.
Harry bloody Potter. I just cried my eyes out right in front of him—and now he knows I knew about Pritchard, and Pritchard’s his sister’s friend—
Potter’s wand was in his hand, pointing at Theo. "You can sit up," the other boy said, his tone brusque but not unfriendly. "Sorry about that. I was... surprised."
"So was I," Theo retorted, pushing himself upright. "You’re Animagi? Both of you?"
"You have a problem with that?" Weasley said, moving a few steps away from Potter, covering Theo with her own wand.
Theo’s mind whirled back in time. "Who was the cat?" he asked. "The one Lovegood brought to see Black, when he was staying with us, summer before last. Who was that?"
Potter and Weasley exchanged glances. Potter shrugged. "Hermione," he said. "She was the first of us to get it. I was second."
"You’re just going to tell me?" Theo said in disbelief.
"You’re going to get Obliviated anyway," said Weasley. "So you don’t go running off to Umbridge and tell her Harry’s still at Hogwarts."
"Why the hell would I do that?" Theo demanded. "I don’t even like Umbridge. I want her gone as much as you do."
"I doubt that," Potter said, but his eyes were thoughtful behind the glasses. "What did you know about Graham Pritchard?"
Theo flushed at the painful reminder that he’d been crying like a baby two minutes before. "Just where he was," he said roughly. "And that I couldn’t do a goddamned thing about it. I wanted to—I would have if I could—"
"You could have told somebody," Potter said. "You could have told Dumbledore."
"You think he’d have believed me?" Theo snapped. "Me, a Death Eater’s son? You have it so easy, Potter—you’re the big hero, The Boy Who Lived, everyone listens to you, thinks you’re special—"
"Not now they don’t," Potter said quietly, but his tone cut Theo off short.
"Dumbledore would have listened to you," said Weasley into the silence. "No matter whose son you were. He’ll listen to you now, if you want to come back to the castle and ask him for help. There are places you can go, places you can hide where even your father can’t find you—"
"Wait," Potter interrupted, looking intently at Theo. "What side are you on, Nott? Or don’t you know yet?"
Theo looked away. "I don’t want to be on a side," he said indistinctly, hating the way his voice tried to break on him. "I didn’t want any of this."
"None of us did," said Weasley.
The feeling in her voice jerked Theo’s head back around. "I don’t need your pity!" he shouted at her. "Why don’t you just leave me alone?"
"Because we’re trying to help you, if you hadn’t noticed!" Weasley shouted right back. "But if you don’t want it, that’s fine—we can just leave you here, let you work it out on your own—"
"Stop it," said Potter.
Theo closed his mouth over his first word. How does he do that?
"So you don’t want to be on a side," Potter went on, sitting down on the ground, his wand never wavering from its direction towards Theo’s chest. "You managed to piss one of them off, though. Not your fault, but it still happened. Which pretty much puts you on the other side. Our side."
Theo snorted. "Too bad I’m not a shining warrior of the light like you."
"No, but you are a Slytherin," Potter said. "Maybe we can make a deal."
A deal... a deal. I can do deals. For the first time since he’d opened the letter from his father, Theo felt like he was on firm ground. I must have something they want. Maybe I can get through this after all...
"What’re you offering?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Protection," said Potter. "Even from your dad." He looked smug. "He can’t lock up what he can’t find."
"And what would you want from me?" Theo was surprised to find that he cared very little about the answer to this question—I’ll do anything, anything, just keep me safe...
Potter’s smirk got bigger. "Actually, the same thing. But this would be you protecting somebody else..."
xXxXx
Severus Snape opened the door of Albus Dumbledore’s office. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"
"Yes, Severus, please have a seat." Dumbledore was positively beaming. "I believe there might be a way for young Graham Pritchard to return to his dormitory without undue fear for his safety."
xXxXx
"So you get the Den to yourself again," Ron said to Harry a day or two later. "And Nott’s on our side now?"
"Sort of. Mostly he just wants everyone to leave him alone." Harry’s tone could have been used as a dehydrator for the entire Hogwarts lake. "I don’t have any idea what that’s like..."
"Dumbledore Obliviated him about Harry, and about us being Animagi," Ginny put in. "He thinks I was out for a walk and ran across him by accident."
"What were you doing out in the Forest, anyway?" Ron stopped. "Wait, forget I asked, I don’t want to know."
Ginny giggled. "You don’t want to know we were doing this?" she asked, sitting down in Harry’s lap. "Or this?" An arm went around his neck. "Or—"
"Ginny, be nice," Hermione said from behind Ron. "You’re setting off all his ‘protective older brother’ instincts, but they’re conflicting with all his ‘that’s my best friend’ instincts, and the ones that say ‘that’s my alpha’..."
Ginny pouted. "You mean I can’t even have one little—"
Ron made a strangled sound and covered his eyes. "Mum’s gonna kill me," he moaned. "And Dad. And Bill and Charlie and Percy—I was supposed to be watching you!"
"And doing what?" Harry inquired. "Keeping her from ever looking at a boy?"
"Other way around, probably," said Hermione. "Keeping boys from ever looking at her."
Harry glanced down at Ginny’s figure, then up at her face. "Wasn’t going to work, mate," he said.
Ron only moaned.
Ginny climbed off Harry’s lap and crawled over to Ron. "Stop it," she said briskly, pulling his hands off his face. "Stop. Now. Stop."
Ron looked at her. "You really don’t understand," he said. "You don’t get it at all, do you?"
"Not really. Maybe if you found somebody to snog, I would."
"What’s this?" asked Draco, coming in from the library, Luna behind him. "Ron’s looking for somebody to snog?"
"The Patil twins have been watching you a lot lately at DA meetings," Luna said to Ron. "And Lavender Brown. She keeps sneaking down to Quidditch practice when she thinks nobody’s looking. So does Amanda Smythe."
"How do you know that?" Draco asked, turning to look at Luna.
Luna shook her head. "Girls have to have their secrets," she said.
"Oh, come on, just tell me..."
"I suppose I wouldn’t mind snogging one of them," Ron said thoughtfully as Luna darted back into the library, giggling, with Draco three steps behind. "They’re cute enough. I probably wouldn’t want a Patil, though—they look too much alike, I’d never be sure which one I had..." Sudden panic flashed across his face. "They’ll be watching the match, won’t they? The Quidditch match?"
"Everybody goes to Quidditch matches, Ronald," said Hermione tartly from behind her book. "Of course they’ll be watching."
"But that means they’ll be watching me..." Ron went a funny shade of puce.
Harry’s nose twitched at the sharp, biting scent of helpless fury wafting to him from—
Hermione?
He glanced at his sister over Ginny’s shoulder and saw a pair of hazel eyes boring holes in Ron’s side, and suddenly several things he hadn’t quite believed all fell into place.
Ginny laid her head on his shoulder. "This," she murmured into his neck, "could be a problem."
Harry shrugged, turning so that Hermione couldn’t see his face. "Maybe he needs a trial girl, like I did," he said quietly. "To show him what he doesn’t want."
"Maybe. But Hermione’s not as forgiving as I am. And she’s been waiting a long, long time."
Harry looked back over his shoulder again. Ron was lying on his stomach, a pillow over his head. Hermione seemed to have returned to her book, but her shoulders were occasionally shaking, and the scent wafting from her now was just barely short of despair.
And I’m the alpha, so I’m supposed to deal with this somehow...
Harry shook his head. Life would be so much simpler if I’d just stayed with the Dursleys.
xXxXx
Ron found himself shaking harder than he would have believed possible as he followed his brothers onto the Quidditch pitch.
I’m going to muff it up. The thought was an ice-cold certainty at the pit of his stomach. Slytherin’s going to score so much we’ll never catch them even if Ginny gets the Snitch—I’m hopeless, I shouldn’t even be here—
A finger flicked his ear. "Stop it," said Ginny sharply. "You’re going to do fine."
Ron shook his head dumbly. I’m going to look stupid in front of the entire school—I won’t be able to help it—I might as well just quit now, they didn’t really want me anyway, I was only ever a reserve—
He straddled his broom with the rest of the team and kicked off at Madam Hooch’s wave, headed for the goal hoops.
Why should I even bother trying? I know I’m going to fail. I always fail when things get tough.
You didn’t that night when they rescued Graham, a tiny voice whispered inside him, sounding rather like Hermione. Or the day you and Harry saved Fleur’s sister in the lake, during the Tournament. And you know you didn’t fail becoming an Animagus, or you’d be dead...
As from a long distance away, Ron heard Madam Hooch’s whistle, and the Quaffle rose into his field of vision like a bright red harbinger of doom.
Well, it doesn’t matter about that, he answered the voice. I’m dead now anyway.
The voice didn’t deign to reply.
xXxXx
"And it’s Johnson with the Quaffle, Angelina Johnson for Gryffindor, faster than a speeding Bludger, down to the Slytherin end of the pitch and a pass to Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor, Montague tried but he couldn’t get a handle on it, and another pass to Spinnet, Alicia Spinnet for Gryffindor—best Chaser team in the school, ladies and gents, if I do say so myself, and certainly the most attractive—"
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry, Professor, just telling the truth—ow—anyway, the other interesting thing about these ladies—Spinnet still with the Quaffle, dodges a Bludger, reverse pass to Bell—is that they’re the only members of the Gryffindor team today—pass back to Spinnet and quick pass to Johnson just in time there—not named Weasley, four Weasleys on the pitch today, I think that’s a school record—and Johnson SHOOTS—"
Boos and cheers mingled over Lee Jordan’s disgusted tones. "No good, it’s no good, Bletchley has saved it and it’s back to Montague, Montague for Slytherin, starting back up the pitch, don’t look now but—OUCH, he didn’t look, that’s a Bludger to the head by Fred Weasley and Montague has dropped the Quaffle, but Warrington has recovered it, Warrington for Slytherin, on his way to challenge Keeper Ron Weasley, seen a few times as a reserve in past years but here on his first outing as a first-stringer—"
Hermione turned to Draco. "It’s time," she said.
"I think you’re right." Draco stood up, faced the Gryffindor stands, and waved his hand in a circle. Parchment rustled as most of Gryffindor House pulled out the scrolls Neville and Meghan had been distributing all through the game so far. Luna hummed a note softly, and Draco nodded to her.
Hermione got to her feet, squared her shoulders, and began to sing.
xXxXx
The world had narrowed and slowed down tremendously. The only thing Ron could see was the Quaffle rushing toward him in Warrington’s enormous hands, and he knew he was still going to miss it, he knew—nothing in the world could make his hands and his mind fast enough to block it—
From very far away, he seemed to hear a clear voice singing.
Weasley is our king,
Weasley is our king,
He never lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our king.
Was she out of her mind, whoever she was? "Never lets the Quaffle in"? He never did anything else...
Weasley can save anything,
He never leaves a single ring,
That’s why Gryffindors all sing:
Weasley is our king.
There was more than one voice, he could hear vaguely now, but the pure tones of the first one were still the clearest in his ears. They couldn’t possibly mean what they were singing, but it was nice to hear...
Weasley is as tough as sin,
He never lets the Quaffle in...
Warrington’s hands went back, and Ron scowled. He wanted to hear how the song ended! No stupid Slytherin was going to cheat him out of his song!
He sent his broom shooting across the goal hoops and snatched the Quaffle out of the air.
Screams of delight almost obliterated the song, but the last two lines rang clear to his ears, sung by that sweet and joyful voice.
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our king!
Something snapped inside Ron’s mind, and suddenly he was back in the moment, listening to the cheers and staring at the Quaffle between his hands.
I did it. I saved it. Me, all by myself...
Well, me and whoever that was singing.
He turned to the Gryffindor section of the stands and raised the Quaffle high, and the roar nearly raised the nonexistent roof.
I have to find out who that was.
But later. After the match.
He tossed the Quaffle to Alicia and resumed guarding the hoops, listening with one ear to the singing of the Gryffindors and letting himself grin at the words.
Weasley is our king,
Weasley is our king...
xXxXx
Harry perched on the top of the stands, enjoying his freedom; he’d never have been allowed to do this in his body. He would have preferred to be out there on the pitch, on his Firebolt, looking for the Snitch, but this way he got to watch Ginny do it.
She was a good flyer, but he’d already known that. She had good Seeker’s instincts, too, never letting herself get distracted by the main action of the match. Keeping an eye on it, yes, and dodging a Bludger when Dursley backhanded it towards her, but her attention never lingered too long on any one spot. She was sweeping the pitch, back and forth, around and around—
Harry stiffened. There it was. The Golden Snitch, hovering right behind Ron’s head—
And Ginny didn’t see it.
Harry leaned forward, not taking his eyes from the Snitch as it darted away from Ron, zoomed ten feet straight up, then out in a straight-line path towards the Slytherin goals. "Come on, Ginny," he hissed. "Come on, see it, see it, see it..."
Ginny’s eyes were still on the other end of the pitch. Carrow was flying lower than she was, and closer to his own end—if he spotted the Snitch now, he’d get to it before she did, and the match would belong to Slytherin, despite Ron holding them to three goals in forty minutes of hard-fought play and the Gryffindors’ seven answering goals—
He clenched his fists and thought, for a moment, of seeing if he could fly without a broom in this form. He was insubstantial, he didn’t weigh anything, he ought to be able to fly if he wanted it enough, and it would be easy just to zoom over to Ginny’s broom, point her in the right direction, and zoom away again—
No. Harry made himself sit back up. No. Ginny’d want to do this herself. She’d want to win the game fair and square. Or lose it that way.
Ginny’s head turned, slowly, so slowly, her eyes darting back and forth across the pitch.
But I think this time she’s going to win.
Legs locked around her Cleansweep, both hands free, Ginny plummeted, causing shrieks from girls all across the stands. Montague screamed abuse at Carrow, who shot towards Ginny’s position, looking frantic—he was gaining on her fast, he had a better broom, but she was a better flyer—
Ginny clasped her hands together and brought them to her chest, as though she were a maiden in an ancient tale sighing over her lover. But no lover could ever have made the sound that rose from the stands as the Gryffindors and their supporters realized what she’d just done.
"GINNY WEASLEY HAS THE SNITCH!" Lee Jordan roared into his megaphone. "IT HAS BEEN THE MATCH OF THE WEASLEYS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN—FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY WITH SOME ASTOUNDING BEATING, RON WEASLEY WITH AN AMAZING TURN ON GOAL, AND GINNY WEASLEY WINS THE MATCH FOR GRYFFINDOR, 220-30!"
Above the jubilant screaming rose the sound of song.
Weasleys can do all the things,
They Seek, they Beat, they block the rings,
That’s why everybody sings,
Weasleys are our kings.
Harry flowed into Wolf’s shape and let out a long, loud, triumphant howl. Watching Ginny win the match had felt as good as winning it himself. Almost better.
Almost.
xXxXx
The door from the red bedroom into the main room of the Den slammed open. Ginny and Harry, tucked into the opposite corner, both jumped. Luckily, in the same direction.
"Hermione?" Ginny said tentatively.
"What’s wrong?" asked Harry.
Hermione, her face set, ignored them both, storming across the Den and into the green bedroom. As the door slammed behind her, Harry heard a half-muffled sob.
He turned back around. Draco was standing in the door of the red bedroom, looking very uncomfortable.
"Ron," Ginny said, her tone making it a statement rather than a question.
Draco nodded. "And Lavender," he said. "It’s disgusting, really."
"Let me at it." Ginny slid off Harry’s lap and stood up. "I’ll bring you back pictures, love," she said over her shoulder, before disappearing past Draco.
The brothers looked at each other for a few moments. "Want me to try?" Harry asked.
"I don’t think you can make it any worse," said Draco.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"You’re a braver man than I am."
They shared a brief smile. Then Draco stepped back into the red bedroom, and Harry turned to the green.
"—isn’t fair!" Hermione’s voice half-shouted from beyond the door. "I’ve been waiting years for this, and that tart just comes in and—"
"Deep breaths, sweetheart," said a low, soothing feminine voice. "You need to get yourself calmed down before you can do anything about this."
Harry stopped with his hand on the door handle. That sounds like Alex’s girlfriend... maybe I shouldn’t interfere...
"And you might want to ask your big brother for a little help," the woman went on. "He’s waiting outside right now."
The door was yanked open under Harry’s hand, and Hermione, red-eyed and disheveled, threw herself into his arms. "Harry I think I’m in love and he doesn’t love me back and I don’t know what to do!" she wailed into his shoulder, all on one note and in one breath.
Harry glanced at the portrait on the wall. The woman lounging in Alex’s chair was definitely red-haired and bespectacled, and just as definitely amused, but in a sympathetic way. Get her calmed down first, her hands suggested in flawless Pride-sign. Then we can talk about it.
Harry nodded and patted Hermione on the back with one hand, freeing the other to make a simple query. Who are you?
"Come in and close the door," the woman suggested. "It’ll make things more comfortable. And then we can get to know each other a little. Start with names. Mine’s Anne."
"Just Anne?" Harry asked, guiding a sobbing Hermione to the bed.
"For right now. You two work this out, and then give me a call." She stood up and walked out of the painting, leaving the chair empty.
"Why can’t he see it?" Hermione demanded of Harry’s robes. "Why does he have to be so stupid?"
"Because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be him?" Harry tried. "And you wouldn’t... er, love him?"
Hermione went into a fresh wave of bawling. Harry cursed silently and stroked her hair. "I mean, you wouldn’t care so much about him," he tried again. "Because you like him the way he is, even if it drives you up the wall too."
A large, watery sniff. "There’s so much about him I wish I could change," Hermione said thickly. "But I feel horrible for even wanting it. It’s like saying I can’t l-l-love him the way he is... except I already do!" The word trailed off into another wail. "And I can’t stop it! I’ve tried!"
"Then it’s probably supposed to happen," Harry said, recalling a conversation with Padfoot that had sounded a bit like this. "And if it’s supposed to happen, then the rest of it will happen. You just have to give it time."
"I’ve been giving it time for the last five years, Harry." Hermione had graduated from weepy to exasperated, which was definitely a step up in Harry’s book. "How much longer do you think he needs?"
"Er, well..." Harry floundered for a second. "I suppose longer than five years. Or maybe something different needs to happen. Something he’s not used to."
"Something he’s not used to?" Hermione sat up, glaring at him. "Like some little tart drooling all over him and pawing at his robes?"
Harry bit his tongue to stop his first two responses. Unfortunately, the thought of the places it had been recently wasn’t helping—
Or is it?
"What they’re doing is hard to resist, the first time you try it," he said truthfully. "For a boy, anyway. And probably for a girl, too. It feels really good. And that good feeling sort of washes away everything else, unless something really bad comes along." The thought of Cho and her vitriol put a sour taste in his mouth. "And depending on how much of it you do, and how much you like it, that good feeling can last a long time. But it is going to run out. And when it does..."
"What?" Hermione demanded. "When it does, what?"
"When it does, Ron’s going to realize he doesn’t really know Lavender," Harry said, letting experience speak through him. "He’s going to find out she doesn’t understand a lot about him. She hasn’t done a lot of the things he’s done. She wouldn’t understand denning, or Animagus, or how the Pride works—I bet she’d have screamed if she’d seen you and Ginny in your challenge-fight. He’s going to look at her, and he’s going to realize that all they have in common is the snogging. And he’s going to want something more."
"Are you sure?" Hermione breathed. "Are you positive?"
"Yes. And you would be too, if you thought about it instead of getting mad at him for something he can’t really help." Harry grinned at her. "We’re blokes, Hermione. Slaves to our—"
He never even saw the pillow coming.
xXxXx
Anne poked her head back into the picture frame and smiled. "Your problem children are enjoying themselves," she said over her shoulder.
"My problem children? My problem children?" Alex peered around her. "Ah, I see what you mean." Hermione was prostrate on the bed, shrieking with giggles as Harry tickled her mercilessly.
"I think we’ll get through," Anne said sedately. "Yes, I think we’ll get through just fine."
"After this next little bit you’ve got planned, I’m not so sure," Alex grumbled. "Evil woman."
"You knew that already."
Alex shrugged. "Simply restating the obvious."
xXxXx
Dolores Umbridge paced up and down her office, a bitter taste on her tongue. Everything was against her. The students had stopped bothering to wait until she turned her back to laugh at her, the teachers treated her with barely concealed contempt, and Harry Potter—
If I could only find him. If I could only bring him to heel. Surely, surely, when they saw the example I made of him, they would learn what I can do—they would begin to fear my anger!
A soft, almost hesitant tapping on her door made her start. "Yes, come in," she called after a moment to even her breathing.
There was no response.
Dolores gripped her wand and moved towards the door. "I said, come in," she repeated in a sharper tone.
Again, no response.
She flung the door open. "This is not funny, whoever you are—"
The corridor was empty.
Dolores growled under her breath. More tricks, more pranks, more jokes at her expense...
She turned to go back inside and stopped.
A small slip of parchment was stuck to her door.
Dolores peered at it and felt her heart speed up. Quickly, she pulled it free, hurried to her desk, and examined it more closely, to make sure it said what it had seemed to say. Her heart speeded up as a smile crept across her face.
How perfect... how exquisite...
The note was brief, only two lines long, but two lines Dolores knew she would remember her whole life through.
Meet me by the library tomorrow at noon.
I can help you find Harry Potter.
Author Notes:
Yes, that’s a self-insert character in Alex’s painting. No, she won’t be taking over the story, or doing much of anything beyond offering a little romantic advice and being humorous now and then. If you can’t stand it, you know where the Back button is.
Thank you all for being such great fans during this trying period of many updates. I know how it must have exhausted you, reading all these new chapters, and I’m happy to announce that it cannot possibly continue past this time. I now pause for your shouts of delight.
Oh dear. Excuse me, I need to run away from an angry mob now...