Be Careful
93: What You Work Out
By Anne B. Walsh
"Malfoy."
Draco slowed to a stop at the sound of his name spoken with utter precision in the coldest tones possible to achieve without a Freezing Spell. "Yes, Headmaster?" he said, turning.
Snape held up an object between thumb and forefinger. "Explain."
"That’s called parch-ment," said Draco in the tones he would have used to explain a fascinating new toy to little Nicki Beauvoi. "The markings on it are this thing called wri-ting. It’s a way to preserve communication past the present moment. You should try it sometime."
"Your cheek does not interest me. These—" Snape shook the parchment, making it rattle. "—are the words to that ridiculous song about tinned meat Peeves has been singing for the past three days."
"Are they?" Draco plastered a look of vague interest on his face and peered at the parchment as though he’d never seen it before.
"Written out in your handwriting," Snape added.
Damn. Draco couldn’t stop the look of shock and worry from crossing his face, and didn’t try—as long as he avoided Snape’s eyes, it could be mistaken for ‘innocence accused’ when it was, in fact, ‘guilt swearing at itself for its stupidity.’
If there was ever a time I didn’t need a cock-up, it’s now. I’ve been so careful to use other people’s writing all year, and just over a week left to go and I use my own. But it’s not over yet.
"There are quills that will do that, sir," Draco pointed out, still looking at the parchment. "The Weasley twins sell a very good line."
"I have checked this parchment very thoroughly. No magic was used to create it." Snape crumpled the sheet one-handed and thrust it into Draco’s left palm. "I doubt you will tell me where you obtained such arrant nonsense without more stringent methods than I am yet prepared to use, but I must say I thought better of you than this after the events of the holiday."
Stung, Draco snapped his head up to meet Snape’s gaze. "So it’s wrong now to want a bit of fun? It’s wrong to play a stupid, harmless joke? I’m glad I’m going to be leaving here soon if this is the way the school’s going to be!"
"Lower your voice," Snape hissed.
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." Draco added enough sarcasm to the honorifics to choke a thestral. "Will the dungeons be low enough, sir, or should I dig a hole once I’m there?"
Snape flushed an unhealthy-looking yellow. "Out of my sight," he said through clenched teeth.
Draco threw a mocking salute, spun on his heel, and marched away.
That probably should not have been as much fun as it was.
The next afternoon, Neville was in the library with Seamus, Hannah, and Susan, discussing the day’s Dark Arts class, when he felt his Galleon warm. Digging it out of his pocket, he found the beginning of the message.
It’s for me. But who would be sending me a message when we’re back in school and they can just talk to me—
He read to the end and felt his heart give a queer sort of double-thump against his ribs.
That’s who.
"Who’s R-E-F?" Seamus asked, frowning. "We don’t have anyone with those initials, do we?"
"It means Reflection." Neville stood up and shouldered his bag. "From Potterwatch."
"The one who does the bits about Harry?" said Hannah.
"That’s him."
"He’s a student?" Susan looked impressed. "Do you know who he is?"
"Yes, but there’s no time." Neville started for the door. "If anyone asks—and they will—you haven’t seen me since classes ended. You don’t know where I am."
"Neville, what’s going on?" Hannah’s voice shook. "What’s wrong?"
Neville looked back at her, giving silent thanks to whatever god had prompted him not to make his feelings about her public. "They’re coming," he said simply.
Before any of them could respond, he was gone, up the hall and headed for the stairs, the message from the Galleon engraved in letters of fire on the insides of his eyelids every time he blinked.
NL: Go now, avoid rush. Save room for others. Ref
He’d made it up one flight, but there was still another to go before he was on the same level as Gryffindor Tower, and he was starting to hear shouts behind him—
Don’t listen. Just focus on getting there.
"Go now" was obvious enough, and "avoid rush" had to mean the Carrows and their supporters wouldn’t stop with him, but what did "Save room for others" mean? The Tower had plenty of room—
But the Carrows are teachers. They have all the passwords. They can get into the Tower just as easily as they can get anywhere else in the school.
His heart sank, even as his feet touched the seventh floor landing.
Come on, Neville, think. You can’t give up now. There’s got to be a place you can hide, and still have room for the rest of the DA—
Neville stopped for an instant, his mind connecting two words at the end of the sentence in a different way.
Then he was running.
There was one place in Hogwarts the Carrows still couldn’t come.
He rounded the last corner, and there it was, the door in the wall opposite the tapestry with a troll doing a pirouette around its club. Feet pounded behind him as he snatched it open, spun himself around it, and slammed it shut. It melted away into unbroken stone, leaving no trace.
"Where’d he go?" Amycus Carrow bellowed on the other side of the wall. "Find him!"
"He came this way!" Alecto added. "Don’t let him escape!"
Too late. Neville smirked, then turned it into a grimace at his Galleon, still clutched in his hand. Save "Room" for others. Har har, Malfoy. Very funny.
But pun or no pun, the hint had started his thoughts on the right track, and he was grateful. As long as he stayed here and "required" a safe place to hide, the Room would oblige, though like most long-running spells it was a bit literalistic.
Just have to be careful what I ask for, that’s all.
After a full term’s experience with the Room, Neville thought he could manage.
Draco spent a great deal of the next four days smirking himself. The DA hadn’t taken terribly long to figure out where their leader must have gone, and one by one they vanished as he had done, staggering their departures so as not to alert the teachers.
Though most of them would probably help by this point. They want the Carrows gone as badly as we do.
He knew, from the messages he intercepted with Luna’s Galleon, that the Room had chosen to interpret Neville’s requirement for its inhabitants to not be caught coming and going by varying where in the school it opened its magical door. Unfortunately, he also knew that there was no way he could exploit this to get at the diadem in the Room of Hiding, since the Room of Requirement would remain in its present form as long as there was anyone present in it.
And since none of them are going to be ready to leave on my say-so, I’m as stuck as I was when Snape’s troll ballerinas were keeping an eye open for me.
For the umpteenth time, the idea of simply going to Snape and confessing all came into his mind, and for the umpteenth time he dismissed it. It looked simple, it should have been simple, but a problem involving people was only as simple as the people involved. Severus Snape was far from simple, and like most people, judged everyone by himself.
He’ll think I’m doing it on the Dark Lord’s orders, to test his loyalty. Even if I let him see my memories, he’ll be sure they were implanted or faked up somehow. He trusts me more now than he did before, but it’s not enough, not for this. I have to finish it alone.
Draco raked his hands through his hair. It doesn’t help that the place I used to be able to rest has its own problems now...
Wards against dementors were falling at an alarming rate all over the otherworld. As the panic over wise dementors spread, it sapped the joy which powered the wards, resulting in weak spots the wise dementors could and did exploit. More and more people were taking to skyships, some of which hadn’t been used in years or should never have been built at all. Two families had already been killed in crashes, and one person had been Kissed when his fall was partly cushioned by some soft branches. The marriage law looked like a sure thing to pass within the month, and the government was starting to talk about mandating skyship usage between dusk and dawn.
They need their hero. Someone to bring them hope again. If they just have hope, they can get the wards back up, they can strike darkness a blow and drive it back all by themselves, they don’t need anyone special to do it for them. But they think they do, so they do. Self-defeating prophecy.
Draco sighed, laying his head down on the table. Life was so much easier when all I had to worry about was making Harry look like a prat as many different ways as I could.
Remus Lupin rubbed at the back of his skull, just over the left headache bump, as his mother had called them. He knew the itch he was trying to scratch was mental, but that didn’t change his natural reaction to it.
At least full moon isn’t for another two weeks. The bond will have plenty of time to settle in before then.
He still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to Dora’s plan. It was insane, absolutely insane, and in a last-ditch effort to save her from herself he’d ‘mislaid’ the papers on which the spells were written. Dora had given him a look which made her resemble her mother more than he’d thought possible without her using Metamorphmagic, then Summoned them and handed them to him ceremoniously. He’d known in that moment he was beaten.
No, to be fair, I knew that long since. I’ve only been kicking against the inevitable.
They had performed the spells in careful unison, wands pointed towards one another’s hearts, and no sooner had they finished than Remus had felt a strong tickling sensation on the back left quadrant of his head. He’d reached up to scratch it—
Only to have Dora’s hand rise in simultaneous motion to the back of her own head.
Quick experimentation had proved they were only yoked in movement when one of them was distracted and the other concentrating on something. More trials, and the hints written beneath the spells on the parchments, had helped them along the way to understanding the strange power of communication the bond allowed through the sending and receiving of strong emotions.
That little minx. Remus smiled affectionately, massaging the itchy spot. She decided to see how much the bond could bear, so she opened it up to show me what she feels for me. Without telling me first, of course.
He’d nearly been blown off his feet by the wave of love/desire/joy/protectiveness/possessiveness he’d sensed emanating from his wife’s compact form. Without thinking, he had opened his own mind in response, letting her see the affection which had flourished despite his every attempt to kill it, his desperate desire to keep her and their son safe in a world gone mad, his longing to somehow redeem his friends’ lost lives by living as they should have had the chance to do...
"Tonks itchy?" Harry asked from his place across the kitchen table.
"No, not exactly." Remus made a conscious effort and brought his hand down to rest on the tabletop. "It seems to be a somatic reaction to the bonding spell. I’m sure it will wear off."
The sight of Harry, as always, brought James and Lily forcibly to Remus’ mind, which then darted down tangent corridors of memory, always one corner ahead of his pursuing consciousness. Sirius and Peter, pranks in dark hallways and sunlit rooms, pranks in revenge for pranks which were in turn revenge for other pranks, usually pranks against one student in particular...
"It strikes me we may be going at this the wrong way," Remus heard himself say, just as his consciousness caught up with his mind.
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Anything special about Hogwarts I would know, so would Wormtail have known, so the Death Eaters will have guarded against it. Also, my practical knowledge of the castle is quite a few years out of date, and even yours is somewhat rusty. Neither of us knows what security is like now that Snape is Headmaster." Remus noted the tightening of muscles around Harry’s jaw at the name and made haste to move on. "Maybe we should talk to the people who’ve experienced it."
"Luna and Ginny?"
"That is who I mean."
Harry was already drawing his wand to send a messenger-Patronus.
The girls joined them in the kitchen in short order, but neither had anything at all hopeful to say at first. "They’ve got dementors and Death Eaters both, stationed at every way in or out," Ginny said bluntly. "They bragged about it the first night back, pretending it was to keep us safe, when all the time we knew it was to keep us there, under their thumbs and being indoctrinated with their garbage."
"I suppose we might have been able to creep in with the students coming back from the holidays, if we’d thought of it in time," Luna added. "But we didn’t, so that’s no good."
Harry sighed and slumped across the table. "Hogsmeade weekend?" he suggested in the tone of one trying to keep a forlorn hope in the air just a few seconds longer. "Polyjuice ourselves into people who belong there, the way Ron and Hermione were the day you joined up, Ginny?"
"Wait," Remus said in confusion. "I thought Ginny had been banned from Hogsmeade."
"I was," said Ginny, and scowled in uncanny imitation of Snape. "‘When you prove yourself worthy of such a privilege, I will consider reinstating it, Miss Weasley,’" she said in dark, crisp tones. "‘Until then, you would do better to remain in the castle.’"
"How did you get out with the Sorting Hat, then?"
"Kreacher brought her," Luna said. "He’s Harry’s elf now, so he does as Harry says, and Harry told him to take Ginny somewhere safe."
"Thank you, Luna," Harry muttered as Ginny blushed.
"Kreacher brought her." Remus began to smile. "And is he still at Hogwarts, do you know, Harry?"
"I guess. He must’ve gone there when we had to run from Grimmauld Place." Harry smiled reminiscently. "Wonder how he gets on with Dobby these days. They probably don’t fight anymore, now that Kreacher isn’t badmouthing me every ten seconds."
"Dobby. That’s the elf who used to belong to the Malfoys? And he works at Hogwarts now?"
Harry nodded in response to both questions. "Why?" he asked.
Ginny gasped suddenly. "That’s it!"
Luna beamed. "I knew you’d figure something out in time," she said. "May I borrow your Galleon for a moment, Ginny?"
Remus tuned out this rather puzzling exchange in favor of watching Harry as his eyes lightened in understanding, exactly the way Lily’s had always done when she rounded the final corner of some maze of magic and saw her objective in sight.
"House-elves can Apparate at Hogwarts," the young man said quietly. "And they can carry passengers. And Kreacher’s my elf, which means he’ll come when I call him, and I don’t think he’ll mind going back for Dobby..."
"Healer Tonks says Hermione should be well enough to travel within a few days," Ginny put in. "Hermione thinks she’s well enough now, but that’s just Hermione being Hermione."
"A few days it is." Harry grinned a grin that was all his own, neither James’ nor Lily’s but a bit of both and a good portion of neither. "Then we can finally get what we’re after, and end this war for good."
But, as always, there will be complications along the way... I really need to learn how to start writing at some hour before midnight. Stupid brain. Reviews are welcome. More action next chapter, I promise. Don’t forget to check out the Dangerverse T-shirts, link in last chapter, and if you’ve already seen them head on back, I made some more!