Facing Danger
Chapter 56: Shepherds and Prodigals (Year 6)
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
I disclaim the brief quotes in the middle of the chapter.
Remus spent a good portion of the next morning with Dumbledore, coming up to speed on the events that had transpired in the wizarding world while he'd been out of action, Danger listening with half an ear while she, Molly, and Voni Pritchard performed a similar ritual in the kitchen. Sirius had left the house early to lead a team of Aurors back to the manor where he and Aletha had been imprisoned, though no one thought that was likely to amount to much besides discovering whose it was and ensuring the Death Eaters couldn't use it again.
And Aletha, or rather Mare…
"Mare remains a puzzle to me," said Dumbledore, making Remus jump. The Headmaster chuckled. "You spoke her name out loud, and my ears have not yet failed me in spite of my age. So tell me, how does she strike you? Is she trustworthy?"
Remus started to bristle, then stopped himself. "Considering her as a different person than Aletha, which is what she wants, it's a fair question," he admitted. "It's also one we might none of us be suited to answer, since we don't know her very well yet. But I want to say yes. At the core, she's still Aletha, and I never knew Aletha to betray a trust. She certainly won't be selling us out to the Death Eaters, given how they treated her."
Dumbledore nodded. "I think the same, but wanted to hear it from your perspective. What of the third option that lies before her? Neither remaining with us nor going over to the Death Eaters, but removing herself from our midst?"
"I… hadn't thought of that," Remus said slowly. "But now that you bring it up, it makes sense. Just because she has Aletha's memories doesn't mean she also has the feelings involved, for us, for the cubs, for our cause."
She is halfway in love with Sirius, but she may be questioning now if that's her own feeling or one left over from Aletha, Danger contributed. I think it's her own—certainly he put forth plenty of effort to be charming, and there's the "enchanted prince" angle, plus her saving his life—but my telling her that is necessarily suspect.
"I have kept her aunt apprised of the situation, as I believed you would want." Dumbledore handed Remus a lightweight envelope. "She agreed that her coming would do little good besides adding one more person to the tally of those worrying here, but holds herself ready to do anything which may be needed."
"You think Mare might go to her?" Remus skimmed the letter, smiling at Amy Freeman's usual bluntness of statement. "I would think the associations with Aletha would be too strong."
"Less so than in this place, and perhaps more to her taste if she does not wish to make a complete break." Dumbledore ran a finger down the rows of scrolls stored in the desk of the war room. "Mare does not deny her blood, and besides her daughter, Amy Freeman is the only relation she has living."
"Living. Yes. Great Merlin." Remus rubbed the corners of his eyes, tempted for a moment to wish he was still in his uncaring sleep. "I have to write to her, to Amy. To tell her what we've found out about her brother, Aletha's father—and we haven't even told you, have we?" At Dumbledore's shaken head, he went on. "It was a memory Voldemort showed to Mare just after the Memory Charm took effect, testing to see if she remembered anything about herself…"
Dumbledore went very still at the story of the brooch. "I might appreciate seeing this memory for myself, if Mare would be so kind as to share it with me," he said when Remus was finished. "It might help me solve a mystery to which I have referred before."
"Yes, you have." And never gone beyond referring to it, which is annoying even when I know it's for our own safety. What we don't know, we can't tell, no matter what happens to us.
My own personal ray of sunshine, sent to brighten up my world, Danger said sourly inside his mind. We'll get all the stories straight at the party we have after the final battle, if anyone's still sober enough to tell them at that point. Until then, let the man have his secrets. They don't hurt you, do they?
Since they're secrets and I don't know them, I can't see how I'd tell, Remus shot back, and got the sense that Danger had snorted into her tea.
"I have made preparations, Remus," Dumbledore said quietly. "I was in Diagon Alley shortly before this attack, and it is possible the strengthening I did to the wards at Ollivanders thwarted the Death Eaters in one of their objectives. Certainly Mr. Ollivander reported a surprising number of attacks on his shop in the short time our enemies spent in that location. But my point, and I promise you I do have one, is that I was there to make a particular purchase I wanted kept very secret. Only you and Danger are to know of it at the moment."
Remus peered at the object in Dumbledore's hand. "You just bought this? But it looks like—"
"Good." Dumbledore smiled. "I had hoped you would say that. It was a special order, made to my precise specifications, and I will be keeping it in my office. In the bottom left-hand drawer of my desk, which unlocks with the key you will find hanging on the back of Fawkes' perch. And just to ensure its further safety, I will be keeping it…" He reached into one of the drawers of the war room desk and took out a box. "In this."
"It's a box," Remus began doubtfully. "How will that—"
Dumbledore lifted the lid of the box.
Shiny, Danger crooned inside Remus' head.
Remus administered a mental poke in the side and lowered his hand experimentally towards the flames filling the box, after getting the go-ahead nod from Dumbledore. "Gubraithian fire?" he asked, and Dumbledore nodded again. "I thought so. You showed us some once before, back when we were first demonstrating our power for you." He lifted his hand with a wreath of flames clinging to it. "It feels different than ordinary fire. More subdued and more energetic at the same time. Which makes no sense, but it doesn't go into words very well."
"I would imagine not." Dumbledore dropped the item in his hand into the box, where it landed atop the parchment envelope already there, and motioned to Remus to return the flames. "The fire will not harm the box's contents, but it will destroy any other thing which may come in contact with it, and the contents of the box cannot be removed by any magical means, nor can the box be destroyed by any spell which would leave its contents also intact. To the best of my knowledge and skill, the only way to remove what lies inside this box…" He closed the lid and latched it. "…is with an unprotected human hand."
"Which means you can't even get it out yourself," Remus said slowly. "Not now that you've put it in."
"I might be able to dismantle the charms, having built them, but I would not lay money on the possibility." Dumbledore smiled, setting the box aside. "And I see I do not have to call your attention to the final destination of your train of thought."
Only three people in the world could get that secret out of that box now, Danger said, her thoughts no longer lively and laughing but full of respect tinged with worry. And one of them, it doesn't sound like Albus wants to know about it yet.
"I assume you don't want us to tell Harry about this," Remus echoed aloud. "Not unless something drastic happens."
"Nicely put, and leading well into our next topic of conversation, but let us linger on this one for a moment longer." Dumbledore's eyes were devoid of twinkle, holding Remus', and Danger's through him, in a direct and challenging gaze of light blue. "I have written a great many secrets in the letter enclosed in that box, against the day when I may fall in battle and be unable to give them to you in any other way. Until that day comes, and perhaps a trifle selfishly, I ask that you leave the box alone."
The gaze dropped to the floor, and Remus had the impression that was as much to hide the sudden appearance of tears in the eyes as it was from shame or worry. "I told only the strict truth in the letter, and as a result I do not always appear in my best light. I would prefer not to be present when it is opened. As for Harry, I do not even wish him to know it exists until he is seventeen." A long sigh. "I would keep it from him longer if I dared. There are things no one should have to face, especially not so young."
"We faced it as young, Sirius and Aletha and I," Remus said, accepting Danger's wordless mental caress. "And we seem to have turned out all right."
Dumbledore lifted his head, his smile returning. "You, my friend—my friends," he corrected himself, a fragment of twinkle shining in his eyes for Danger, "are a constant source of wonder and fascination to me."
Aww, you'll make me blush, Danger cooed, and Remus laughed aloud. Whatever might be in store for them in the next hour, the next week, the next year, in this moment his soul was content.
We still have our troubles, but we'll live through them the same way we always have. We might even turn some of them into assets.
It's what the Pack does best.
Seated on the bed in her guest room, Mare called up the mental map she had received of the bewildering maze which was number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
It's far too big for the little bit of townhouse it seems like from the outside. But then, the manor was the same way. Wizards can do that with enclosed spaces, it seems—borrow space from somewhere else, to fit more than they otherwise could inside four walls.
Opening her eyes, she got to her feet and started down the hall, grateful that no one was around. She wanted to be alone for this first foray into the unknown.
Unknown. The word resounded in her head to the rhythm of her footsteps. Unknown. Not a bad way to describe this power of mine—unknown as to origin, to limits, to side effects…
Though that wasn't quite true, Mare reflected as she made her second turn. She knew her power's origin, if not the exact way that Rowena Ravenclaw had come by her Healing gifts in the first place. As to limits, unless she found some source of strength other than herself, her own stores of magic and energy would provide them automatically. And side effects—
Does collapsing in a faint count? She chuckled. Back to energy again. Nothing's free, not even magic.
She turned once more and stepped through a doorway, a quiet hum of pleasure coming to her lips unbidden as she looked around. Her destination was safely reached, and that without any wrong turns or backtracking.
The more quickly I can confirm the factual content of Aletha's memories, make them my own through personal experience, the better off I'll be.
Stepping up to a bookshelf, she pulled down the first of several Healing textbooks she had known Aletha kept here. The motley crew who frequented the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix held several fascinating puzzles for a natural Healer, and she wanted to see if anyone had ever looked into some of the avenues she was thinking about pursuing.
It might save me some time, stop me chasing down dead ends. Or it might give me new insight into what will and won't work.
Her hand stilled on the cover of the book.
Am I so sure I should be doing this, though? What if I decide not to stay? These aren't my people. I never made any promises, swore any oaths. Why should I be bound by something another person wearing my body said she'd do before I existed? I like them all quite a lot, they've been nothing but kind to me, but that's no reason to embroil myself in a war!
With a little shake of the head, she carried her book to one of the large chairs in the room and plopped down with it.
This is no time to be making those kinds of decisions, not when I've just arrived. I need to take a few days, get to know them all better, find out what's at stake here, and then make up my mind.
Besides, no matter which way I eventually decide, this will help. If I go, I'll leave goodwill behind me. If I stay…
A moment's fantasy, or perhaps a memory, drifted over her. She perched on the arm of this same chair, laughing at the absurd verbal sallies of the man seated in it, and then his hand closed tight on hers and pulled, and she slithered down into his lap and took firm possession of his mouth…
Yes. Well. Mare dragged herself reluctantly out of that little dream. We will have to see where that goes. And it will just have to wait until after I work out my little puzzles. So. She flipped open the book to the index, in the back. Let us start with the letter E…
Ginny looked up from her Potions homework as Hermione came into the girls' bedroom, a letter in one hand. "Who's that from?"
"Viktor. Krum," Hermione added at Ginny's brief blank look. "I'd written to him before the school year ended, asking him if he could send some books we may need to help us refine the spell-breaking year. He was away at Quidditch training camp most of the spring and summer, and they held all his owls at the post office, so he only just got the letter last week, and he says the books I want are very valuable."
About to make a joke on the way Hermione's last two words would sound spoken with Krum's Bulgarian accent, Ginny caught a glimpse of her friend's face and stopped. Hermione's voice was cheerful enough, even unconcerned, but thin strain lines had begun to show around her mouth and eyes.
Is she worried about Ron meeting up with Krum again? But why would she be? They settled all that a long time ago, there's no question who she'd rather be with…
"So he can't send them here, but he's going to take a few days off and bring them." Hermione was absent-mindedly crumpling the letter she still held in her hand, and her smile was somewhat forced. "He wants to know where we ought to meet, and I don't know what to tell him. We'd usually do something like this in Diagon Alley, but it's such a mess still, and I don't want to Floo all the way to Hogsmeade just for a little exchange of books, but we're going to need those once we're all back together, this is just the power-gathering period for the year, we'll have to have those spells to direct that power when the school year starts and I don't know any other way to get them—"
"Breathe," Ginny interrupted. "Please. I'm getting dizzy just listening to you."
"Oh." Hermione laughed shakily. "I'm sorry. Was I rattling on again? I've just been thinking a great deal about the year lately, and how we'll have to be more careful than ever with the strains the war is going to put on us. I don't want to be the one who falls down on the job and wrecks our best chance to take away one of Voldemort's strongest weapons."
Ginny bit off her immediate response, which would have suggested that Hermione had just uttered a pile of bovine manure. If she doesn't want to tell me what's really wrong, she doesn't have to, but I'll be keeping a closer eye on her. Maybe ask Luna to do the same. Just a letter from an old friend shouldn't have her this worked up, not unless…
She frowned, which was safe to do since Hermione was now lying crosswise on her bed, flattening out the letter she'd crumpled. Could she still have feelings for him? Still prefer him over Ron? I can't really believe that, but it would make sense of the way she's acting. Definitely have to ask Luna on this one.
"You could ask one of the adults to take you out to the Den to meet him," she suggested casually. "The wards on that, plus supervision, should make it almost as safe as it is here."
"Of course." Hermione's laugh was more real this time. "Why didn't I think of that?"
"Too close to the problem?" Ginny arched her back and exhaled a sigh of relief as her aches eased. "It happens to Mum a lot. She gets so fixed on her worries and troubles, she never thinks to step back a bit and look at them in perspective. Percy's like her that way." She stopped, stifling a grin behind her hand. "Or he used to be. He's not so much anymore…"
"All right, that does it." Hermione sat up and put her hands on her hips. "What are you all being so mysterious about with Percy? You've been giggling over it since the day after Ron got up, and I'd bet you were thinking about it even before that. What is it?"
"Oh, it's nothing." Ginny waved her hand grandly. "Just a little adventure in misdirection."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "How would you like to have an adventure in misdirection of your own? Turn left when you want to turn right, say, and go backwards when you want to go forwards? All day tomorrow?"
Ginny shuddered. "That's horrible. Could you really do it?"
"Try me."
"No thanks. I'd rather tell you. See, Crystal gave Percy this old Muggle book she likes, all about a man who acts like he doesn't have a brain in his head when really he's a hero who saves innocent people, and when he's saved somebody, he leaves behind the sign of a little red flower, so they call him after it—the Scarlet Pimpernel…"
"…so this will be the symbol we use." Percy sketched it in the air with his wand, a crimson circle with two lines of differing lengths pointing out from the center. "We leave it where we've been, just like the Death Eaters leave the Dark Mark."
"A clock?" Fred asked, squinting at it. "What's it mean?"
"It has two meanings," Crystal answered before Percy could. "The first is, it's time for the Death Eaters to go. They've overstayed their welcome. And the other one…" She grinned. "Remind me what this mysterious masked figure of ours is going to be called, the one who's going to get the Death Eaters' attention and save Muggles wherever he goes?"
"The Red Shepherd," said Danielle, nodding along with Maya. "Red for the opposite of the Dark Mark's green, and a shepherd to lead people to safety." She frowned at Crystal's increasingly smug grin. "Right?"
"It's got another meaning." George leaned back on the seat he and Lee had built out of crates in the storeroom behind the twins' shop. "This is my lady. Everything always has another meaning. Go on, Crys, tell 'em."
"Red shepherd's clock is another name…" Crystal motioned to Percy, who drew another picture in the air with his wand. "For this."
"Sneaky," Lee commented, gazing at the small, five-petaled flower. "Better hope there's no Muggle literature experts out there, though."
Maya scoffed. "Are you mad? These are Death Eaters. We'll be lucky if they even acknowledge Muggles can read."
"And that's not all." Percy dismissed the flower and waved his wand at several of the empty crates, which rose up, forming a tower at either end of the room. "A shepherd can't just lead his sheep around in circles. He has to have somewhere safe for them to go. A sanctuary, if you will."
"With a capital S!" Maya crowed, beaming. "But what are these for?"
"To show you one of my ideas for how to get people into Sanctuary." Percy walked around the towers, continuing to make spellcasting motions. "There will likely be several different entrances, but I had an idea for one which only allows Muggles to enter."
"Only allows Muggles?" Lee frowned at the translucent bridge now taking form between the towers. "Is that even possible?"
"Theoretically, yes." Percy made a brisk, slashing motion at both ends of the bridge. "If there are charms which repel Muggles, or stop them from seeing things, which there are, it should be possible to reverse those charms and cause only Muggles to be able to see or access a certain place. So…"
He swirled his wand three times counterclockwise.
"Did that do what you wanted it to?" Fred asked, blinking.
"Not seeing anything here," Danielle confirmed.
"Me neither," said Maya.
Crystal cocked her head to one side. "Does that work for anything you draw like that?" she asked with a sly smile.
"Does what work?" asked Lee. "There's nothing…" He trailed off, eyes widening. "Percy, you did it!"
"Part of it. The rest still needs testing." Percy bowed to Crystal. "If you wouldn't mind?"
"Oi!" George protested. "No putting the moves on my girl!"
"He's not." Crystal elbowed George in the gut. "He's just being a gentleman, which is something you could learn from him. Where do I go, Percy?"
"Up here." Percy conjured a set of stairs onto one of the towers, then reversed his earlier motion, bringing the bridge back into visibility for the rest of the audience. "It looks too strange when she's walking on nothing," he confided, stepping back to watch.
Crystal mounted the stairs and started across the bridge. Halfway across, she yelped as a wizened old man, dressed in rags, appeared in front of her. "Halt!" he demanded in a croaking voice. "Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three ere the other side he see!"
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Crystal directed a glare at Percy, who pushed his glasses up his nose and looked smug. "Where did you see Monty Python?"
"Your little brother and sister hang around with the Pack long enough, you learn all kinds of things," said George, chuckling. "You going to answer him or not?"
"You will all pay for this," Crystal muttered, and turned back to the old man. "Ask me the questions, bridgekeeper, I'm not afraid."
"What is your name?" the old man croaked.
"Crystal Huley."
"What is your quest?"
"To get across this bridge and wring a few Weasley necks."
Danielle, Lee, and Maya laughed. Percy and the twins looked apprehensive.
"What…" The old man paused dramatically. "…will you name your first-born red-haired child?"
"Excuse me? I'm not having any red-haired ch—" Crystal clapped her hand over her mouth before she could finish the word, but it was already too late. With a loud sproing, the section of the bridge where she was standing gave way, and she fell with a scream—
Into a pool of water, which appeared below her just in time to break her fall.
The twins applauded. Maya was already rushing forward to help pull Crystal out of the water. Danielle stopped long enough to smack Fred on the back of the head and feint towards George. "She'll want to do you herself," she informed him before conjuring a towel and tossing it to Maya. "Might need this."
"As you can see, it comes with a built-in safety feature," Percy informed the twins. "I hope it will stop any Muggles who might be under the Imperius of a Death Eater, because the Death Eater will be in control and not know the proper answers to the questions."
"Same vulnerability as before, with the same answer." Lee cast a nervous look at Crystal, who was wringing out her hair and muttering savagely to the other girls. "Here's hoping they don't have anyone else like Dursley around…"
I wish I'd never met Dudley Dursley.
The thought was nothing new to him. He'd lived with it, in varying degrees of fervency, for the last four years of his life. This, however, was a new low.
Hiding in my own house. In, at the moment, what appears to be one of the places also used by the people I'm accused of helping. He picked another tuft of black fur off his robes and muffled a sneeze in his sleeve. The people I never set eyes on, at least not while they were here, but I'm the suspect because "they couldn't have got away without inside help"—yes, of course they could, it's just that none of you want to admit you're incompetent bunglers!
It still made him shiver to think of how narrow his escape had been. If Brilly didn't like me enough to disobey Father's implied order not to tell me what they were starting to think… if I hadn't had those few minutes' warning, long enough to grab a few essentials and get out of my room… if I hadn't spent every spare second when I was little playing down here, getting to know every nook and cranny in these halls…
His imagination caught hold of the "ifs" and painted him a vivid picture, one of a door which refused to yield to his frantic pressure and a window which shrank into nothingness even as he turned towards it, of the whipcrack sound of Apparition beside him and rough hands snatching his wand away as he tried to draw it—
Stop. He clenched his teeth and flattened his hands on the padded floor. Stop this now. It didn't happen, and it won't happen—as soon as I'm sure they've really left, that they didn't leave anyone behind to grab me when I move, I'll get out of here and head for the Ministry, I'm sure they'd love to hear even what little I've got to tell them…
Further images of grim-faced Aurors looking thoroughly skeptical of his story, of holding cells which were every bit as windowless and grim as his imagined room-turned-prison, smashed to pieces as confused noises filtered down from overhead. Automatically, he looked up, but the underside of the stairs told him nothing.
So make it tell you something, stupid! What do you think your wand is for?
Rolling his eyes at his own mental tone, he drew his wand and outlined a square with it, then tapped it twice. It flickered for a moment, then turned transparent.
Oh, Merlin's bloody balls. He shoved a handful of sleeve into his mouth, trying to muffle his pained moan. I did not need to know that everything is in perfect working order under that particular red robe…
Belatedly, his brain caught up with his eyes. Red robes. Only one type of wizards usually wear red robes. Unless Father and the rest are being more creative than usual and are really desperate to get hold of me…
"This is where she nested," said a voice he recognized from outside the curtain currently shielding him. "We can have a look if you like."
And that makes it a definite yes for the good guys. By most people's definitions, that is.
I suppose even by mine, now.
"Why not?" answered a feminine voice, and the curtain lifted. "Dark in there—oi, hold it, you! Come out slowly, hands where I can see them!"
He froze in place, raising his arms slightly to show that his hands were both open and empty. "I'm coming," he said, grateful that his voice had decided to remain mostly steady. "Give me a second? I'm a bit stiff."
"I thought they'd all cleared out," commented the voice he'd recognized. "What happened, you miss your Portkey?"
"On purpose." He inched forward, ducked under the curtain, and stood up. "May I get my bag, sir?"
"Oh, for—yes, get it." Sirius Black lowered his wand. "Easy, Tonks, this one's all right. Finally made up your mind, did you?"
"Had it made up for me, more like." He reached back into the alcove and retrieved his rucksack as the female Auror, her spiked hair striped in watermelon pink and aquamarine, watched him warily. "They thought I let you out."
"Ah. Sorry about that. I could write you a note, but I don't think they'd take it…"
Theodore Nott snickered. "Doubt it. And I wouldn't go back now in any case. But I'm not about to join up with your side either."
"No requirement," Black said easily. "We'll have a few questions, obviously, and you'd be helping us a lot by answering as fully as you can, but once that's through, you're free to go. We'll find you a host family until you go back to Hogwarts…" A moment of humor sparked in his eyes. "And you will have rights of refusal on that one, though the supply may not be unlimited. You'll also get the standard reward for information received, and a bonus if anything you tell us lets us catch a few of the buggers, pardon my French. Should give you something to start with once you've left school. Sound good?"
Compared to what I was facing yesterday? It sounds like heaven. "Yes, sir."
"Good." Black conjured a chair against the far wall of the corridor. "Have a seat. We'll come back for you when we're ready to go."
Theo sat down, considering what else he might want to take from his room, if the fit of temper he was sure his father would have had on finding him gone had left anything in usable condition. Some of the books, certainly. My homework, so I don't have to do it all again before school starts. A few more sets of clothes—
The thought of clothes and his father in close proximity struck a chord within his mind, and he undid the flap on his rucksack, retrieving one of the rolled-up things on the very top. The female Auror, Tonks, had drifted to the bottom of the stairs, dividing her attention between him and her surroundings. He would have preferred to do this without an audience, but somehow he didn't think she would turn her back if he asked…
No harm in asking, is there?
"Excuse me," he said, drawing her eyes. "Would you mind just going up the stairs a little ways for a minute?"
The eyebrow she lifted was more eloquent than any words could have been. He glared at her. "Look, I'm not going anywhere—you can chain me to the damn chair if you want to! There's just someone I need to talk to, and I don't want to be overheard, all right?"
She regarded him for a few more seconds. "Sirius trusts you," she said finally. "He's generally got pretty good judgment that way. But in case you're scamming us, you should be aware my husband works with dragons, and there's no real way to find out what became of anyone who just happened to wander into a preserve…"
"What a cheerful thought," Theo muttered, turning away as Tonks' footsteps mounted the stairs to the halfway point and stopped. He went to one knee, swallowed against the strange thickness in his throat, and spoke the name most on his mind at the moment.
With a pop like an exploding balloon, she appeared before him, her eyes even rounder than usual. "Master Theo! You is not to be doing this—I is not supposed to answer when you is calling any longer—"
"Too bad you weren't ordered not to answer, then, isn't it, Brilly?" Theo interrupted, unable to keep from grinning. Father can't think of everything. And by the time he thinks of this, it'll be too late. "Were you ordered not to take orders from me?"
Ears drooping, Brilly nodded. "I is sorry, Master Theo. I is not being able to help you any more…"
Theo shook his head. "I didn't call because I need help, Brilly. I'm going to be all right." I hope. "I want to do something for you."
He held out the item he'd removed from his rucksack.
Brilly gasped. "Master Theo!"
"Now, I can't order you to take this," Theo said quickly, speaking over her automatic protest. "Just like I can't order you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there. But I can tell you that there's always work to be done in the castle, and I can tell you that I would be very angry with Father if he punished you for helping me. And one more thing." He summoned up a smile, surprised at how easily it came when he thought of a future free of his father's icy harangues and his mother's clinging sentimentality. "I've only got two years left at Hogwarts. After that, I'll be setting up housekeeping for myself. Maybe with a mate or two, bachelor quarters. Robes all over the floor, sinks full of dirty dishes, toilets too nasty to think about…"
Glowering, Brilly extended her hand. "You is giving me that right now," she ordered. "That is not happening to my Master Theo, not as long as my name is being Brilly. Which it is."
Theo choked back a laugh and gravely handed her the black sock. "So it is, and here you are. Congratulations, Brilly, you're a free elf."
"I is a free elf for two years," Brilly corrected, holding the sock at arm's length as though it smelled. "Then I is your elf. Which is the way things is ought to being."
"Agreed." Theo exhaled a long breath, informing his tears that they wouldn't be needed today. "Well, see you then, I guess."
"I is seeing you sooner than that, if I is going to Hogwarts and so is you." Brilly giggled, muffling the sound with her free hand. "I is taking good care of you, Master Theo. Very good care."
"I know you will, Brilly. You always do."
And just possibly, with room service and special laundry service whenever we want it, my Housemates won't kill me for this…
Shoving that aside as a problem for another day, Theo watched Brilly Disapparate, then returned to his chair. Tonks descended the stairs unasked, looking at him oddly. "What?" he snapped when he got tired of feeling her eyes boring holes into his skull. "Did I grow an extra head?"
"Would you like to?" Tonks grinned at his snarl. "Just trying to lighten things up." Her tone grew serious. "I wanted to say… I know you didn't want me listening, but I couldn't help hearing bits and pieces of it. That was a really nice thing you did."
"Nah." Theo closed the flap on his rucksack. "I'm too lazy to do my own laundry is what it is."
"If you say so." Tonks returned to her attitude of guarding, but Theo thought she might have been watching the stairs a little more and him a little less.
Maybe I'll survive this crazy new world after all.
A soft noise brought Mare out of her book. "Who's—oh, hello, Meghan. Were you looking for someone?"
"For you. If you don't mind." Meghan advanced hesitantly into the room, stopping two paces beyond the doorway. "If I won't bother you."
"No, you won't bother me." Mare beckoned the littler witch to her side. "You might actually be able to help me." She smiled. "Considering that you're the only one around with experience in using what we have."
Meghan seemed to expand with pride. "I learned a lot working with Madam Pomfrey. And with… with my Mama Letha." She swallowed once, but her voice stayed clear and distinct. "And one warning Madam Rowena gave me herself. You can't ever use this power to heal yourself. If you do, it will work, but it will also turn into a loop." Her hand described small circles in the air. "Like when two spells catch each other wrong, or time magic goes bad."
"A feedback loop?" Mare hazarded. "It gets hold of itself and goes out of control?"
"Yes." Meghan nodded, wrapping her arms around herself for a moment as if she were cold. "And when it's finished, your power is gone, all the way gone, like it never existed at all. You can never use it again, and your children won't have it either, so you really, really can't ever use it on yourself."
"Thank you for the warning." Mare suppressed a shiver at the thought. Even with her relatively new discovery of her abilities, she didn't want to think about losing them. "So, with that out of the way, come sit with me? I've got some ideas about a certain person that I was hoping to get a second opinion on…"
Meghan skipped across the room and into the chair beside Mare's, looking eagerly at the books Mare had open on the table.
She is an easy child to love. I'll have to be careful what I say to her.
It would be all too easy to make a promise I have no way of keeping.
Author Notes:
Perhaps a bit transitional, but I hope sufficient happened to keep you all happy.
More next time, and remember, please like my Facebook page, facebook (dot) com (slash) annebwalsh (dot) page! The more likes I get, the more comfortable I feel in collecting ideas and inspirations for originals!