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Author Notes:

This chapter is dedicated to the StarrySkiesFoxxyWoxxy Corporation, otherwise known as two of my best and most insane fans. See you on the road trip, girls!

Chapter 9: Explorations

"What?" Harry burst out.

"Speak when you’re spoken to, Mr. Potter," Umbridge admonished, smiling poisonously at him.

"Perhaps I fail to understand, Dolores," said Dumbledore, moving his right hand in a darting gesture, thumb and first two fingers coming together in a swift horizontal line. Harry bit back the disbelieving words threatening to explode from him. "For what is Harry being expelled from school?"

"For repeated and flagrant disobedience to my directions." Umbridge had drawn herself up to her full height, which would have been more impressive if she weren’t so dumpy. "I had assigned him to write lines as the task for his detention, and he refused to do so, several times."

In Harry’s mind, Wolf stirred. Taste her blood, he growled, the words coming out as a rumble in Harry’s chest, directly under the burning cluster of his pendants. Taste it to see if it is as much toad as her looks. She is not for eating—she is as something long dead, and soon she will be something long dead...

Harry forced back the change, concentrating on his human self. Not this time, he told Wolf. This is human. I have to deal with it as human.

Spoilsport, grumbled Wolf as the prickles of growing fur disappeared from Harry’s arms and legs and his elbows and knees returned to their human articulation.

They still hurt, though. Harry released his death grip on his own hands to rub his right elbow. I don’t think I forgot to take my potion this morning...

"Harry," said Dumbledore’s voice. Harry looked up. "Is it true, what Professor Umbridge is saying? Did you refuse to perform the task she set you for detention?"

"Yes, but—"

"No buts," Dumbledore cut him off, making the gesture for silence again. "I want only the answer I have asked for, no more."

A shiver ran through Harry’s body. He’s on her side. Or he has to pretend to be, to stay at Hogwarts. Either way, I’m still going to be expelled, and he can’t stop it—maybe he wants me expelled, maybe he wants me away from the school, so Voldemort won’t try to attack here and put all the other students in danger—

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Gratitude," he said aloud. "Gratitude is the one virtue of which the young never quite grasp the value. That is your failing, Harry—you have failed in gratitude, in your thankfulness for all that you are blessed with. Did you know that?"

Harry shook his head slowly, bemused by the sudden turn in the conversation. Is he losing it? Why would he be talking about this right now?

"Gratitude towards those who have sacrificed to bring you where you are." Dumbledore was warming up to his subject. "Gratitude towards those who have gone before. Gratitude even to those who are, to us, only inked words on a dusty page. We must never forget all that they have done for us, and continue to do for us to this day."

Harry nodded, trying to keep his confusion off his face. He’s definitely lost it.

"Dumbledore, is this really necessary?" Umbridge asked pointedly. "I would like to expedite things if at all possible, I don’t want the students thinking justice will be delayed for the sake of a student’s fame..."

"Forgive me, Dolores, but I have grown fond of Harry over these last years," Dumbledore said, turning towards the woman. "Allow me a little time to give him some last words of wisdom, before he passes forever out of my reach?"

"Very well," said Umbridge, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Her smile showed clearly that she thought she’d won.

She has won. Dumbledore’s giving up. Harry shivered again, not sure if the Headmaster’s office was actually colder than the rest of the castle had been or if it just felt colder. He’d been so sure that Dumbledore wouldn’t let anything happen, but all Dumbledore seemed able to do was talk...

"Gratitude can take many forms, Harry." Dumbledore resumed his speech, pacing about behind his desk. "You show your parents gratitude for the food and shelter they provide for you by obeying their dictates. You show your friends gratitude for their friendship by being a good friend to them in return. And you show your teachers gratitude—or you should—by obeying them as you would your parents."

Harry couldn’t hold himself back any longer. "But Professor—"

Dumbledore cut him off. "To fail to show your teachers this courtesy is the most base kind of ingratitude. It shows not only that you fail to respect what they are here to teach you, but that you fail to respect all that they stand for! In short, Harry Potter, by failing to be grateful for what Professor Umbridge has tried to teach you, you stand convicted by your own actions of ingratitude towards her and all that she is!" Dumbledore met Harry’s eyes and held his gaze for a moment. "I hope you understand me."

"Yes, sir," Harry said shortly. I understand that you think I should be grateful for the chance to hurt myself to prove I’ll do whatever I’m told, but that’s not how I work. I’ll do things I don’t like, that’s what detention is about, but I’m not about to cut my hand open just because I fought fire with fire.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, turning away from Umbridge to minimize his chances of getting a noseful of toadish glee, and coughed in surprise at what he got instead.

It smells like April Fool’s at the Den...

Dumbledore was still talking. "Our school has a long and important tradition of gratitude. Students grateful to their teachers for the opportunity to learn, teachers grateful to their students for the opportunity to pass along what they know, and all of us grateful to those who came first, who passed this marvelous castle along to us, who founded it. Our best gratitude to them is, or should be, expressed by learning about them and who they were, what they did and loved, and what roles they played."

Harry’s breathing was starting to speed up. Dumbledore’s got something planned. All this babble, everything he’s saying, it’s for Umbridge, to make her think he has no idea what to do. He’s not just going to throw me out—he never was—this is all part of something, I just have to figure out what...

"Harry, come here." Dumbledore’s peregrinations had led him to the fireplace, where flames flickered on the hearth. He was standing before it, gazing into them. "I have an important question for you."

Harry crossed the room to the Headmaster’s side, flicking a quick look at Umbridge as he passed. She looked a bit bored, but also triumphant. She has to think he’s lost his Gobstones. Maybe she even thinks she made it happen, by threatening to throw me out of school. That would make sense, the way she thinks—and I bet she thinks she’ll be Headmistress if he has to leave—

"Harry, look at me," Dumbledore said, breaking into Harry’s thoughts. The light blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses were solemn, but deep within them Harry caught just a hint of the well-known twinkle. "Do you know which of the four Founders was the first Head of Hogwarts?"

This is important. He’s trying to tell me something. Harry’s gaze skipped from Dumbledore’s face to the bookshelf behind the Headmaster’s desk, where a silver sword lay in a glass case. "I thought...I think..." He hesitated. "I don’t know, sir."

"Tell me who you think it was, then." Dumbledore’s face was encouraging.

"I think...I always thought it was Gryffindor, sir."

"So many people do," said Dumbledore with a sigh. "But no, it was Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff, Harry. She was the first Headmistress of Hogwarts—she resided in these very quarters, walked these very floors, gazed out these very windows."

He turned away, looking around the room. "So many times I have wondered, did she ever stand as I do, watching her students at play, wondering what they would make of their lives? Wondering if any of them would ever bother to return and thank her for all that she had done for them, all she had sacrificed? For she gave her very life for this school, and I have no doubt that if there were some way she could have given up whatever comes after this life, she would have done that as well."

Harry frowned. Does he know...?

"Gratitude, Harry," Dumbledore said firmly, turning to face him once more. "Display gratitude—express it wherever you go, whatever you do, in deeds and in words—and you will not be the loser by it." His hands, hanging by his sides in loose curls, moved, his index fingers uncurling, then curling again with the other fingers. "Have I made myself clear?"

"I..." Harry faltered. No, you bloody well haven’t! shouted an indignant part of his mind. Babbling on about gratitude and thanking people, about Hufflepuff, telling me to run away not two minutes after you made me come over by the fireplace, away from the door—

"Remain by the fire, then," Dumbledore said calmly. "Watch the flames and see if you can find some peace in your...heart."

Harry turned away and stared at the fire, only half-hearing Umbridge begin to tell Dumbledore why Harry should be expelled without a moment’s delay. His mind tumbled from thought to thought.

Gratitude. Thanking people. Thanking Hufflepuff—he made a big deal out of Hufflepuff—and he wants me to stay here, but he wants me to run away—how can I do both? How can I run away when I can’t get out the door? And why did he say "heart" like that, like it was a big deal? What is he trying to tell me?

He cracked a smile. If this was the common room—any of the common rooms—I know what I could do. Or the hospital wing, for that matter, or the kitchens...

His train of thought suddenly became a runaway. Thanking people—Hufflepuff—the password—and the heart, that’s what he calls it—and the fireplace, that’s where it always is, where every one we’ve ever found has been—

Harry glanced over his shoulder. Dumbledore was nodding gravely as Umbridge expounded loudly on Harry’s many faults. I hope you fall down the stairs and break your neck, he thought venomously towards her. Now...

He looked back at the carvings to either side of the stone fireplace. To the right. It’s always to the right. And I can even make it so they don’t notice—if I’m right to begin with—

"Stealth mode," he breathed. "Thank you, Helga."

xXxXx

Albus Dumbledore kept his eyes firmly on Dolores Umbridge as she continued to rant about how Harry Potter was a menace to the entire school.

A menace to you, you mean, Dolores. Harry is your worst nightmare—an intelligent and self-assured young man, too firmly set in his own ways to be swayed into yours.

I wonder if you and Cornelius realize what you have done by sending you here? You serve as the visible enemy that Harry can use to rally the students to his cause. When the students realize why you are really here, they would follow a fire-crab if it promised to rid them of you. Harry will have no trouble. Then, slowly, he can use their existing loyalty to him to convince them that his invisible enemy—Voldemort—exists, and that they should be fighting against Voldemort as well as against you.

It always pleased him to see the tactics of evildoers adapted for the use of those fighting for good.

I wonder if Harry has pieced together the hints I dropped for him yet?

He seated himself, still listening with half an ear to Dolores, and knocked a quill from his desk in the process. Bending to pick it up, he glanced towards the fireplace.

Harry was gone.

As he straightened up, Dumbledore could hear a few of the portraits on the walls sniggering quietly in their frames. As though thinking, he placed a fingertip on his lips, and was gratified to hear the laughter die down.

There will be a time for laughter, my friends. Dumbledore put on his most serene smile and listened to Dolores’ continuing tirade.

Though, for all our sakes, I hope it comes soon.

xXxXx

Harry scrambled into the hole in the wall and let his hand slide up the smooth, curved side of the tunnel.

It worked. I don’t believe it. It really worked.

He looked back into the Headmaster’s office. Umbridge and Dumbledore were still talking—or rather, Umbridge was talking and Dumbledore was listening—in the middle of the room, unaware that anything unusual was happening.

And I think I’d like to keep it that way.

"Thank you, Helga," Harry murmured again, and pushed off as the stone slab grated closed behind him to seal the tunnel.

Down, down, down—wow, this goes faster than the one from the common room—I wonder where it comes out? It’s Hufflepuff’s password, so it’s probably one of the yellow rooms, but the bedrooms go to the common rooms, so this one would go to the other yellow room, which is—

The floor disappeared underneath Harry.

He had a blurred glimpse of a bright, reflective room as he fell.

The bathroom—but then what—

Impact. Strangely hard, yet yielding. Holding him up, hampering his movements, and when he tried to breathe in, he choked—

Water, he realized foggily. I must have fallen into the bathtub.

A long string of bubbles emerged from his lips. Dreamily, he followed them upwards, almost not caring if he made it or not. The water felt cool and comforting around him.

His head broke the surface, and suddenly getting air became a priority. Coughing and spluttering, he paddled towards the side of the pool-sized tub, still trying to take everything in.

Umbridge can expel me all she likes, he realized. She can’t make me leave unless she can find me. And she has no idea the Den even exists! She could look for years and never find it—Dumbledore knows about it, but he’d never tell her—he told me so I’d have somewhere to hide, somewhere she can’t find me!

He clambered awkwardly out of the tub, wincing as his knees and elbows complained at the motion, and stood dripping on the floor, looking around the bathroom with new eyes. This is my place now. I have to stay here. I can’t leave, or she’ll find me.

He grinned as a corollary of this development hit him. I can’t even go to classes—

Or to Quidditch practice.

That was going to make Angelina Johnson, new captain of the Gryffindor team, very unhappy with him.

It’s going to make me unhappy with me. Harry pulled off his outer robes and dropped them to the floor, shivering more than ever. What am I going to do in here all day? Fly around by myself and read? Hermione might go for that, but can I?

The room was starting to tilt around him. Harry dropped to one knee, and swore under his breath as it stabbed with pain.

I’m having a flare-up, he realized as from far away. The lupus can get worse all of a sudden, if I get upset or excited—I need to lie down, get warm, take a potion for it—

But he couldn’t leave the Den, and all his potions were up in Gryffindor Tower. The room spun faster and faster around him, shaking him like a rabbit in Wolf’s jaws.

Wolf—yes—Harry tried to focus his mind on transforming. If he could get four feet under him, he might be able to move at least out into the main room, where he could lie down and get warm. Fur and a tail...ears, eyes, nose, tongue...

He couldn’t keep from whimpering a little, as his joints, already under attack, protested this sudden change in their status even more vigorously. Finally, it was done, and a shivering Wolf lay on the floor of the bathroom.

Need to get up. He rolled shakily onto his belly. Front paws braced against the tiles, he lifted his rear end until his legs were fully extended and his rump pressed against the side of the bathtub, then shuffled his front paws backwards to pull himself to standing, whining as he did. Everything hurt, and he was hot and cold at the same time—he wanted someone to come and hold him and make it all go away—

I have to help myself to start with. First, why don’t I try getting a little dryer? He shook the excess water out of his coat, carefully, so as not to knock himself over. Now, to the door.

The door seemed determined not to let him find it, but he kept his eyes locked on it, and though he staggered a few times, he finally fetched up against it, panting. A paw reached up and pressed down on the handle, and Wolf tumbled unceremoniously into the main room of the Hogwarts Den.

There. He lay on the soft floor, panting, gratefully tasting the safe and familiar scents that pervaded the room. Their faces flickered before him, shifting from human to animal and back again.

Like me. Harry was only dimly aware that he’d returned to his human shape, that he was curled up on his side, hugging his knees. His clothes were still unpleasantly damp, he ached all over, but he was safe.

If safe includes so bloody sick I can barely move.

If he could just get up for long enough to call a house-elf, send a message to Ron or Hermione or Draco, tell them where he was and that he was feeling ill—they’d know what to do, they’d come right away and bring the potions Letha had brewed for times just like this—

But I don’t think I can.

He tried to open his mouth and call out, but nothing emerged from his lips except a croaking noise that Trevor could have made.

Sounds like what I would have expected from Umbridge...

The thought, and the humor behind it, went with him into darkness, as did the face of the one person he knew he could have shared it with, the person who would have laughed her hardest at it, the person who would have melded Umbridge’s own simpering voice and Harry’s croak into a perfect toad-woman impersonation.

He didn’t even realize that he’d whispered her name as he fell.

xXxXx

Ginny paced up and down the common room, unaccountably nervous. Harry had done detentions before; why was she so worried? Nothing Umbridge could do to him would be worse than what Snape kept ready for Gryffindors, especially the Pride. Harry would be back in a few hours, laughingly complaining about whatever she’d made him do, boasting that it took more than that to take down the alpha of the Pride.

But he’s upset about whatever it is that she wants him to do. Ginny fingered her pendants. She, like the rest of the Pride, had cooled the heat of Harry’s unhappiness with the murmured spell "Cesso aestum," since there really wasn’t anything they could do about it, but the wolf cub was still glowing brightly on Ginny’s second pendant.

Bringing the pendants closer to her eyes, she frowned. Was it her imagination, or was the carving of the wolf a little larger than it had been before?

A sudden flare of light made her gasp and drop the pendants, shielding her eyes uselessly after the fact. The image of the wolf burned purple on the insides of her eyelids.

Something’s happened to Harry. Something worse than just a detention.

She turned and hurried towards the fireplace, ignoring the questions curious Gryffindors were calling to her.

I have to find him.

"Ginny!" Ron called from across the room. "Where are you going?"

Ginny turned to face him. To the Den, she signed, sliding her right hand down into the shelter of her left.

"Why?" Ron mouthed silently, aware of the inquisitive eyes on him.

Ginny bit her tongue to keep from swearing and crossed quickly to her brother. "Something’s wrong," she said, displaying her pendants. "Look at the way this is glowing. If we could still feel it, it would probably be burning us. I have to find out what’s wrong."

"How will going down to the Den help you find out what’s wrong?"

"I can call a house-elf there and ask what’s going on with Harry. They see everything, and they like us." Ginny smiled. "They like you, after what you did for Winky. I get the knock-on effect because I’m your sister."

Ron blushed. "I was just thinking about Mum," he muttered.

Keep telling yourself that, big brother. "I’m still going down there. You can come if you want." Ginny looked around the notably empty circle of chairs. "Where’s everyone else, anyway?"

"Hermione and Meghan went off to work on Meghan’s Animagus, Draco and Luna probably found a broom closet somewhere, and I don’t know where Neville went."

A chair coughed slightly, and Neville looked up from his book. "I’m right here," he said.

"What do you want to hide from us for?" Ron demanded.

"Just practicing." Neville shrugged. "Making sure I can still do it after summer."

"Can’t you do it over summer?" Ginny asked curiously.

"It hardly works at all away from Hogwarts. I’d have to get a power boost from somewhere, and that’s not good for me." Neville touched the white streaks at his temples. "When Dad and I took the hedges down at the Triwizard Tournament, I boosted us with one of my pendant jewels, and this happened."

"I wondered where those came from," said Ron. "Do you have any more of those jewels left?"

"Just one. I used another one a long time ago. But you have one too, you know."

"Me?" Ron fished out his pendants and looked. "Oh, that’s right. I remember now. Because I was too stupid to get out of Myrtle’s bathroom."

"Too loyal," Ginny corrected. "And we need to go check on Harry. Coming, Neville?"

Neville marked his place and set his book aside. "Downstairs?" he asked, signing as Ginny had to indicate what he meant.

"Right." Ron led the way to the fireplace. "Let’s see what the toad had him do for detention. Stealth mode, thank you, Godric."

The hole grated open. Ron was about to clamber in, but Neville coughed. "Ladies first," he said, holding out a hand to Ginny.

Ron scowled. Ginny made a face at him where Neville couldn’t see, then climbed into the hole and pushed off. Her thoughts kept pace with her rapid slide.

I’ll want to talk to Kady. She’s our best house-elf friend here, now that Dobby’s left. If she doesn’t know what’s going on with Harry, she’ll know how to find out. As long as it’s something Harry can deal with on his own, we’ll leave him alone, but the pendants don’t usually go off unless it’s something we should be helping someone with...

She dropped onto the bed, bounced once, and rolled off. "Clear!" she called up the slide, stretched her back, and opened the door into the main room.

Harry lay crumpled near the bathroom door.

Hissing words she hadn’t even known she knew, Ginny raced to his side. His skin was hot, she could feel it even before she touched him, and his knuckles were visibly swollen.

"He’s having a flare-up," she said loudly. "He needs one of his potions."

"What?" Ron checked in the doorway. "He’s here?"

"I’d hardly know that if he weren’t!" Ginny snapped back. "Go get him one! They’re in his trunk—the stronger ones are to the right, he needs one of those—"

"I’ll get it," Neville said from behind Ron.

"How did he get in here?" Ron hurried across the main room to where Harry lay. "Did Umbridge have him serving detention in the kitchens? I thought she wanted him in her office."

"I don’t know, and right now, I don’t care," Ginny said, letting her hand rest on Harry’s face. "He needs to be in bed, though. Or something like a bed."

The room squirmed slightly under their feet, and Harry sank a little deeper into the floor where he lay, his head rising as the Den made him a pillow. Ron picked up the blanket that had appeared beside him, draping it over Harry. "There," he said. "Good enough?"

"I think so." Ginny wished for a moment that she had Meghan’s gift, to heal with a touch, to take Harry’s pain away and make him better in an instant...

"Something must have happened," Ron said. "He wouldn’t have come to the Den unless he was in real trouble. I think I’m going to go find the twins. They know everything."

"Find the rest of the Pride while you’re at it," said Ginny, looking up. "Just a potion isn’t going to get Harry better right away, if he’s this bad. He’ll need people around to take care of him."

Ron nodded and started for the red bedroom. Ginny watched him go. As soon as the door was shut behind him, she lifted the blanket over Harry. "How did you get all wet?" she wondered aloud, drawing her wand. "Was it part of the detention?" A charm Hermione had taught her started hot air blowing from her wand tip, and she began to play it over Harry, drying his clothes. "Or was it something else?"

Harry sighed in his sleep and relaxed a little, and Ginny smiled. Unbidden, Mrs. Danger’s words at the train station, years before, drifted back through her mind. "Alpha females don’t cry in public unless they can’t help it." Was she trying to tell me...

She shook her head. No, that’s ridiculous. She can’t have meant that the way I thought she did back then. She was just trying to make me feel better.

A hand on Harry’s side found no moisture there. "A little help, please?" Ginny said aloud. "He needs to roll over."

The floor bulged up beside Harry, rolling him gently to his other side. Ginny directed her jet of hot air at this side of her alpha, smiling at his endlessly messy hair, now even worse than usual. Lifting his glasses from his face, she tucked them into her pocket for safekeeping.

"You don’t get these back until I’m sure you need them," she teased. "That way, I’ll always know where you are."

Just as the last bit of water steamed out of Harry’s T-shirt and disappeared, Neville reappeared in the doorway of the red bedroom, clutching a vial. Meghan was right behind him. "Let me see," she said, kneeling beside Harry. "Is he any better?"

"I got him dry." Ginny put away her wand. "I have no idea how he got wet, but he’s dry now."

"Perfect." Meghan took out her own wand and accepted the potion from Neville. Her face creased in concentration as she tapped her wand against the glass, then traced Harry’s lips with its tip, murmuring a phrase. Slowly, the liquid in the vial began to disappear, and Harry swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down as his throat worked.

Ginny found herself swallowing as she watched. This wasn’t how Harry should be. He hated lying around and letting other people take care of him—he always wanted to fight, to beat whatever was threatening, to take care of everyone else—

"There," Meghan said, setting aside the empty vial. "But he needs to stay warm. It’ll help his body fight off the fever."

"We can warm the room up," said Neville.

"But then we’ll all be too hot." Meghan looked at Ginny. One eyelid flickered shut so fast Ginny wasn’t sure she’d really seen it. "Ginny, do you think you could help?"

"H-how?" Ginny coughed to get rid of the unaccountable catch in her throat.

"You’re warm when you’re Lynx. You could curl up beside him, and I’ll put the blanket over you both." Any silliness there might have been on Meghan’s face had vanished. "It would really help, Ginny. He needs to stay warm, so his body doesn’t get worn out trying to keep itself too hot. Please?"

"Yes." It came out too fast, too strident. Ginny coughed again. "Yes, I’ll do that." She changed faster than she ever had, to hide the blush she could feel starting to stain her face. Deliberately, she picked her way to Harry’s side and lay down beside him, curling up against his chest.

I’m going to help you get well, she thought towards him. Maybe I can’t heal you with just a touch, but I have other ways.

Softly, she began to purr.

xXxXx

Meghan draped the blanket over Ginny and Harry, then turned to face Neville. He was smiling. You see it too? she signed.

Neville’s fingers flew. I think everyone sees it except them. And even Ginny’s starting to see it now, but... He shook his head. Let’s go in there, he suggested, pointing towards the yellow bedroom. We can be private.

Meghan bounced towards the bedroom door. She liked privacy.

"Ginny knows she likes Harry a lot," Neville said when the door was shut. "But she has no idea how much yet, I think. And she doesn’t know what’s going to happen when Harry finally figures out how he feels about her."

"What?" Meghan asked curiously.

"Well, I only know myself, but..." Neville reached out and took her hand in his. "It was the best, and the scariest, feeling I’d ever had."

"Why scariest?"

"Because there was someone who needed me, who wanted me, who believed in me." Neville raised his head to meet her eyes. "Because I didn’t know if I could be good enough to be what she believed in."

Meghan sighed. "We’ve been over this. You’re wonderful."

"How do you know?"

"Because I say so, that’s why!" Meghan planted her free hand on her hip. "And I mean it!"

Neville laughed. "Yes, dear," he said in a mock-submissive voice.

Meghan grinned and pulled herself in by their handgrip.

Submission, even mock submission, shouldn’t be wasted, after all.

xXxXx

Hermione pulled aside Draco’s bedcurtains with no announcement whatsoever. Luna looked up, startled, and Snow Fox yipped.

"Harry’s in trouble," Hermione said, sitting down beside her friend. "Umbridge just expelled him from school."

Snow Fox, trying to leap over to Ron’s bed, missed his landing and hit the floor hard as Draco. "Ow."

"Can she do that?" Luna asked, leaning over to help Draco up. "I thought only Professor Dumbledore could do that."

"Her new position means she can do what she wants," Hermione said. "Dumbledore can’t stop her."

"This is bad," Draco said, wincing as he sat down on Ron’s bed. "Where’s he going to go? Back to Headquarters? That’s the only other safe place for him right now, and he’d go crazy stuck in there all year long without us around."

Hermione grinned. "He’s not going anywhere," she said. "Umbridge can’t expel what she can’t find. And Harry’s disappeared on her. She nearly tore Dumbledore’s office apart looking for him, and now she and Filch are looking through the rest of the school. The teachers are looking too—"

"But maybe not as hard as they could be," Ron said, coming in.

Hermione sniffed. "Thank you for stealing my thunder."

"You’re welcome. Here, have it back." Ron pretended to toss something towards her.

"But where is he?" Luna asked. "You have to know, or you wouldn’t be so happy."

Ron shut the door. "He’s down in the Den," he said. "We don’t know how he got there, but Ginny found him there a little while ago. He was having a flare-up."

Luna’s eyes widened in worry, and Draco cursed under his breath.

"He’ll be all right now," Hermione said quickly. "Meghan got some of his potion into him, and he’s asleep. But he has to stay in the Den from now on, or Umbridge will catch him and expel him."

Draco shook his head. "Of all the people to be under house arrest, it had to be Harry," he said. "He can’t even sit still through a double period."

"He has the Quidditch pitch, if he wants to fly or run," Luna pointed out. "And he can go swimming in the bathroom."

"That’s not the point." Draco stood up and rubbed at a sore spot on his back. "Harry doesn’t always do well in enclosed spaces. He can handle it sometimes, but if he’s there for a long time, bad things might start happening."

"We can sneak out at night and go running," Hermione said. "We have the Invisibility Cloak, and Neville can make us all invisible for a little while if we need it. It’s classes that worry me. The whole reason for Harry to be here is so he can learn magic."

"So we’ll take him our notes," Ron said. "You’re a better teacher than half the professors anyway, Hermione. Anything he needs to learn, he can learn from us."

"I hope so." Hermione swallowed and thought hard of snow and chill and Christmas to keep the blood from reaching her cheeks.

"And I don’t think most of the professors like Professor Umbridge," Luna put in. "They might not think it’s important enough to tell her if they’re still getting homework from a student who’s not in class anymore."

Draco chuckled. "Harry’s not going to like that," he said, and pulled a long face, imitating his brother’s voice. "‘What do you mean, I can’t play Quidditch but I still have to do my homework? That’s not fair!’"

"Welcome to our lives," said Hermione dryly. "When was the last time anything was fair?"

xXxXx

Harry squirmed. Whatever was around him, it was too heavy, too tight, too hot. He needed to get out.

One arm made it free first. His face came up, and he gasped in air the way he had coming out of the bathtub earlier that day. Pulling his other arm free, he shook his head hard to rid himself of the sleepy feeling, then planted both hands on the floor and pushed, lifting himself entirely free of whatever-it-was all around him.

I’m still in the Den, so I guess the Pride found me. Either that or the house-elves.

He turned back to look at what he’d climbed out of and yelled in shock.

There was still a Harry Potter lying on the floor. He was breathing slowly and deeply, he was covered with a blanket, and something large and furry was nestled against his chest. Looking more closely, Harry could see the distinctive tipped ears of Lynx-Ginny.

So I’m lying on the floor with Ginny beside me. He wondered vaguely why that didn’t disturb him the way it should. But I’m also standing up and looking at myself. I can’t be dead—I’m breathing—so what is happening?

He recalled a discussion last year with the Pack-parents, talking about a talent related to Draco and Hermione’s dreamsculpting, something called astral travel—instead of making dream worlds in his own mind, he could travel to real places and see real things happen in his dreams—

I’ve done it before. Twice last year, and some other time—back in first year, when I wanted to see the Mirror of Erised! He caught his breath in surprise as he recalled this. I came to Hogwarts while I was asleep, and I looked in the Mirror, but it didn’t show me anything I wanted. It just showed me...me.

But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was, he knew now what it felt like to climb out of his body. As that body looked very comfortable where it was, and Harry’s last memories of being in it were not, he wasn’t too eager to get back in.

"I’ll do it eventually," he said aloud, just to make sure he could talk like this. "But not right now."

He looked down at his hands and was unsurprised to see them paler than usual, semi-translucent, and vaguely luminescent. "I wonder if I glow in the dark?"

Deciding to check this out, he wandered over to the bathroom door. I can look in the mirror while I’m at it. See what I look like all over.

He reached for the handle of the door—

And his hand went through it.

Thrown off balance, Harry stumbled forward, bracing himself for pain—

Which never arrived.

Oh. Right. Stupid.

If I can’t touch the handle, the door can’t touch me either.

Floors were still solid, Harry discovered, but soft. He hadn’t hurt himself at all falling.

And he did indeed glow in the dark.

He grinned at his ghostly reflection in the mirror. "This is going to be fun," he said.

Further experimentation proved that walls were also solid-but-soft, while doors he could walk through at will. Makes sense. People walk through doors all the time—just not usually while they’re closed!

He stepped into the green bedroom and looked at the empty frame on the wall. "Alex?" he said tentatively.

"Harry?" answered Alex’s voice.

"You can hear me?"

"You’re talking." Alex stepped into his frame, his usually neat green robes spotted with white. "Oh, you’re running around without your body on. I wondered when you’d get around to figuring that one out."

"What’s that stuff on you?" Harry asked, pointing.

Alex made a face. "You don’t want to know."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you really don’t. Trust me on this." Alex pulled his robes off over his head and snapped his fingers, making them disappear. "I didn’t even want to know what it was."

"I didn’t know you knew how to dress Muggle," Harry said, looking with interest at the jeans and T-shirt Alex was wearing now.

"It’s a bit of a new thing. Hard to explain. Maybe next summer." Alex sat down and pulled his wand from his pocket. "I need some new robes, and you need to go see what else you can find out with this, so shoo. Don’t stand here talking to me all day. I’m not that interesting."

"I’ll remember that." Harry started for the door, then turned around as he remembered a question he’d had. "How do I get out of the Den?"

"You can use any of the exits just like you normally would," Alex said, sketching in the air with his wand. "You don’t even have to say the password. Bathroom exit is in the bathtub, but I think you already figured that out."

Harry rolled his eyes and stepped out through the bedroom door.

"Where have I already been?" he said aloud, pointing at the doors as he named them. "Bathroom, green bedroom, yellow bedroom, Quidditch pitch..."

Behind him, one of the doors opened. Harry whirled in surprise.

Draco stepped out of the library, talking to someone behind him. "—just have to make sure we don’t give anything away. If Umbridge ever found out about this—"

"I don’t think she could get in anyway," said Hermione. "We could lock the entrances against her to make sure, if we want."

Luna shook her head. "You can’t lock the entrances against someone," she said. "You can only—"

Her eyes fell on Harry, and she stopped as though her feet were made of lead.

"Luna?" said Hermione tentatively. "What’s wrong?"

Harry shook his head, seeing a terrible fear dawning in Luna’s eyes. "I’m all right," he said quickly. "I’m not dead. I can go back any time I want. If I was a ghost, everyone could see me, right?"

Luna nodded, her hand against her chest. "You scared me," she whispered.

"Sorry." Harry pointed at himself. "Have a look. I’m breathing, my heart’s beating. I’m even still connected. Look." He lifted the silvery cord he’d discovered when he’d looked at himself in the mirror, which was wrapped around his left wrist and disappeared into his body’s back. "This is just something I can do, like Draco can make dreams or Ron can fix things."

"Luna, who are you talking to?" Draco asked nervously.

"Harry," Luna said, starting to smile. "He’s practicing walking around without his body."

"What?"

Draco, the closest, dropped to one knee. "He’s breathing," he said quickly.

"Yes, he’s just fine," Luna said, now smiling broadly. "But I think he’s having fun. Are you?" she asked Harry.

"Loads. What’s going on in the rest of the castle? And could you ask Hermione please not to look like she’s choking?"

"Hermione, Harry says please don’t look like you’re choking," Luna dutifully repeated.

Hermione sat down where she stood. "Give me a minute," she said shakily. "I remember now. It’s called astral travel, or out-of-body work. Muggle-born and half-blood wizards are usually better at it, and at dreamsculpting. Danger told me about it. But I wasn’t expecting it."

"Nor was I," said Harry, sitting down beside his sister. "Wish I could tell you that myself..."

A thought came to him. Gently, he placed his hand atop hers.

The two meshed together, and Hermione shivered.

"Can you hear me?" Harry said aloud.

"Harry?" Hermione looked around. "It’s like...Luna, is he talking to me?"

Luna nodded. "He’s sitting right next to you," she said. "He has his hand in yours."

"In mine?" Hermione lifted her hand to look at it doubtfully.

"Well, not now," said Luna. "You moved."

"Sorry." Hermione quickly returned her hand to its place. "Now?"

"Yes."

"I wanted to tell you I wasn’t expecting this either," Harry said aloud, letting his forearm merge with Hermione’s as well. "None of it. Not Umbridge trying to expel me, not Dumbledore helping me get away, not the flare-up, not climbing out of my body...this has probably been the craziest hour I’ve ever had in my life."

"I think I understood you, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes closed. "You said you didn’t expect any of this, and it was crazy. Am I close?"

"Yes," Luna said. "He said more than that, but you understood most of it."

"How about me?" Draco asked, holding out a hand. "Think it will work?"

"Only one way to find out," Harry said. Pulling away from Hermione, he changed into Wolf and trotted towards Draco. And now I know I can change in this form too. Good things to know, all of them.

Draco, too, could hear a vague echo of Harry’s voice when Harry was partly merged with him. "It’s not exact," he said. "More like talking when we’re all in form. You get the basic ideas of things, but not too much else."

"That’ll do," Harry said. "Now, what’s going on in the rest of the castle?"

"The teachers are all looking for you, but most of them aren’t looking too hard," Draco said. "Umbridge is tearing the place apart—she’s pissed at Dumbledore, but she can’t prove he had anything to do with you disappearing. How did that happen, anyway?"

"The entrance to the Den in the bathroom," Harry said, Luna echoing him. "It comes down from Dumbledore’s office." He grinned. "The bathtub fills up to break your fall."

Hermione laughed when Luna relayed this. "That sounds like Helga," she said. "You know how she’s always threatening to throw Paul and Adam in the lake if they call her ‘Gaga’ again." Her face turned awed. "Oh my. I just realized what I said."

"What did you say?" Draco asked.

"I’m talking about one of the Founders of Hogwarts by her first name." Hermione shook her head. "Talking to my brother who is, to look at him, asleep over there with one of my best friends curled up against him wearing fur. And I’m sitting in a place that shouldn’t exist."

"Two places," Luna put in. "Muggles think Hogwarts doesn’t exist, and wizards don’t know about the Den."

"Hermione Granger-Lupin," Harry said in his best announcer voice, "this is your life!"

Hermione glared through Harry. "If you just said what I think you just said, Harry Potter, I’m going to hit you when you wake up."

"Why wait?" Harry pulled away and darted out of reach, habit taking over before he remembered she couldn’t hit him in this form.

This is even better than I thought.

xXxXx

Ron, Meghan, and Neville arrived later, having been detailed to cover the Pride’s tracks in Gryffindor Tower. Ron was laughing, Meghan couldn’t seem to stop giggling, and Neville wore a broad grin.

"What is so funny?" Hermione asked, hugging her sister.

"You should have been there," said Ron, sitting down. "Umbridge tried to climb through the portrait hole and got stuck."

Draco doubled up laughing, and Luna covered her mouth.

"That’s not funny," Hermione said sternly, but Harry could see her lips trying not to curve upwards. "She could have been hurt."

"She got unstuck," Neville said. "Then she sent Filch in to search Gryffindor Tower for Harry. He decided to start with the girls’ dorms."

Meghan danced around her boyfriend. "And he didn’t know about the stairs!" she sang out. "He didn’t know, and he tried to go up, and he slid back down!"

Now Hermione did laugh.

"McGonagall eventually came in to check in the girls’ dorms," Ron said. "Though she told Umbridge point-blank she didn’t think there was any way you could be there. And Filch checked the boys’, and they both looked through the bathrooms."

"Dumbledore’s not telling anyone anything," Neville took over again. "He’s just walking around smiling and looking mysterious. McGonagall knows, or I think she does—I saw her looking at the fireplace a few times, and she didn’t seem really worried like she would be if a student was actually missing."

"That makes sense," said Hermione. "She’s a Pack-friend, after all, so she deserves to know—oh, no!" She looked stricken. "No one’s told the Pack-parents—they’re going to think Harry’s missing!"

"I’m sure Dumbledore took care of it, Hermione," Harry said, forgetting she couldn’t hear him. "He wouldn’t forget something like that."

Luna repeated this, and Hermione’s panicked look subsided.

"Besides, Percy sent me a note the night before we left for school," Ron added. "He said not to write anything in our letters home we didn’t want the Ministry to read, and not to try firecalling at all. They’re watching our letters and the Floo Network."

Hermione smiled smugly. "Yes, but are they watching these?" She dug in her pocket and pulled out her Zippophone.

"I don’t know," said Ron, holding out his hand. "Can I see that?"

"Don’t break it," Hermione warned, handing it over. "It was a gift."

"I know." Ron carefully pried the back off the Zippophone and bent over it. "This goes here," he muttered, "and that goes there, and this goes back and forth here..." He looked up. "I think it should be safe," he said, sliding the back into place again. "It looks like it makes a direct connection to whatever fire you’re talking to."

"So we’ll just call one of the Pack-parents’ Zippos," said Draco, taking back the Zippophone and handing it to Hermione. "We shouldn’t call the main fire in Headquarters—it’s on the Floo Network, even if it is under Fidelius right now. No reason to push our luck."

Hermione flipped the lighter open, engaged the catch, and   spoke into it. "Remus Lupin."

A moment, then Moony’s voice spoke from within the flame. "Lupin here."

"Moony, it’s Hermione."

"Hello, Kitten, is something wrong?"

"Not exactly..."

"Spit it out, Hermione," said Danger’s voice.

Hermione sighed. "Have you heard anything about Harry?"

"No, we haven’t heard anything about Harry," said Moony, "unless you’re calling to tell us something about Harry. Where is he?"

"He’s here. He’s all right, he just had a flare-up earlier today. He’s sleeping now, sort of."

"Sort of?" Danger repeated.

"He’s practicing that thing you told him about," Draco said. "Astral travel, was it?"

"Playing ghost, is he?" Moony sounded amused. "Tell him to have fun."

"He heard you," Luna called, smiling at Harry’s broad grin and thumbs up. "He says he is."

"Of course," said Moony under his breath. "But that’s not everything you called about, is it?"

"No..." Hermione looked around doubtfully. "I don’t even know what really happened," she said. "Do any of you?"

Harry sighed. "Tell them to hold on a moment?" he said to Luna. "I don’t know how long this will take."

"Harry’s going to try to go back into his body," Luna said aloud. "He doesn’t know how long it will take, but he’ll try to be quick about it."

Harry lay down overlapping his own body, drew a deep breath, and concentrated on merging.

He was sinking, falling, being drawn into something too heavy and too hot for him—

No, this is right. This is where I belong.

His eyelids were heavy, but they opened at his command, and he gently scooted Lynx away from him. "I’m awake," he croaked. "I’m all right."

Meghan darted in to hug him, kissing his throat on the way. "You are," she said thankfully. "It’s all gone back to where it was."

"Harry?" Moony’s voice sounded half-worried, half-amused. "We’ve just had an owl here. Something about you being expelled..."

Harry groaned.

"This had better be good," Padfoot’s voice put in. "James and I used to get suspended, but we never got expelled. What did you do?"

"I said I wouldn’t write lines for Umbridge." Harry sat up, let the room stop spinning around him, and accepted the Zippo from Hermione.

"What happened to behaving well this year?" Letha asked acerbically.

"She wanted me to use a Contract Quill."

The Pride stared at him. Harry had no doubt that on the other end of the connection, the Pack-parents were staring at the Zippo.

"She wanted you to write lines in blood?" Padfoot blurted finally.

"I’ve got the line on my hand where I tried it out," said Harry, holding up his hand so the Pride could see. "And she said I didn’t need any ink, and gave me another night’s detention when I asked why not."

"Did you tell Albus that?" Danger asked.

"I didn’t get a chance, but I didn’t need to." Harry grinned. "You won’t believe what he helped me do."

"Will we want to?" asked Letha.

"Probably. It’s a good thing."

"I can deal with a good thing after this, I think." Moony chuckled. "Go on, tell us."

xXxXx

When everything had been explained and everyone had stopped laughing, the Pack-parents had some advice for Harry. "Just sit tight," Danger said. "I know you won’t like it, but you’re safer there in the Den than you are even here at Headquarters."

"And now that you can step out, you could go to classes," Letha put in. "You couldn’t take notes, or practice the spells, but you’ll be there."

"He never takes notes anyway," said Hermione. "He just copies mine later."

"And we can help him practice the spells," Draco said. "We can come down here and do our homework, and we’ll work together."

"Now, for the other side of it." Padfoot chortled. "Harry, you do realize what an opportunity you’ve got here, don’t you?"

"You mean to spread mayhem and chaos?" Harry said innocently. "No, I never thought of it."

Everyone laughed. "That’s my boy," said Padfoot. "You’re officially missing, you’ve got an Invisibility Cloak, and you can turn into Wolf if you need to. You could do anything, Harry. Anything."

"We’ve got lots of Fred and George’s stuff, too," Ron added. "Harry can use anything of mine he wants."

"Mine, too," said Neville, a second before the general chorus.

"Just don’t get caught," Moony warned. "If you do, there’s no telling what Umbridge will do. She’s a vengeful woman, and she has a lot of power there."

"I won’t," Harry promised. "And I have an idea for the first thing I’ll do."

Moony sighed. "Do I want to know about it?"

"Probably not."

"Then don’t tell me. Just do it, and don’t get hurt."

"I won’t."

After goodbyes all around, Hermione shut the lid on her Zippo. "So what are you going to do?" she asked, looking at Harry.

"I’ll tell you in a minute." Harry stood up and stretched, carefully not looking at Ginny, who had resumed human form at some point during the conversation. "Neville, can you cover me for a few minutes?"

"Where are you going?"

"Dumbledore’s office. I need to borrow something from him."

xXxXx

Dolores Jane Umbridge marched through the halls of Hogwarts, her arms folded across her chest. How dared that wretched boy escape her? How dared he run from his just fate? She would find him, and when she did, he would know what it meant to defy her...

A sudden flare of light behind her made her whirl.

He was there. Standing before her, holding a naked sword in his hand, a sword which flickered with flames as red as the jewels in its hilt. "Beware," he said coldly. "You are not wanted here, and I will not let you stay."

Dolores quavered, then found control of herself. "You have no power over me," she said, reaching for her wand. "You have no—"

The boy in front of her made no motion, but her wand flew from her hand and clattered against the wall.

"You are not welcome," Harry Potter repeated, raising the sword higher. "You are not wanted. And by this sword of my ancestor Godric Gryffindor, I will drive you out of this castle!"

And he vanished, as suddenly and thoroughly as though a cloak had been thrown over him.

Dolores stood trembling in her place.

Things had just taken a turn she hadn’t anticipated.  

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Author Notes:

Did you miss me? I hope not too much, but enough to make this welcome! I’m glad to be back, and I hope you’re glad to have me back. Let me know!

And yes, Harry was a bit too theatrical with that. You can’t blame him. He had a hard day, and he needed a little fun. Though there was something in there he probably shouldn’t have said...