Dealing with Danger
Chapter 10: Badger's Son (Year 3)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 10: Badger’s Son
"You put a spell on yourself by accident?" Aletha chuckled. "I don’t think even Sirius has ever managed that one."
Danger stuck her tongue out briefly at her sister. "Well, I’m sure it wasn’t the only reason we’ve been squabbling more than usual. Stress has something to do with it, and the fact that we’re both working hard now. The spell was just an extra irritant."
"At a time when you really didn’t need one." Aletha nodded. "I know how that can be. It’s the little things that really pile up and get you, isn’t it?"
"You know it." Danger leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "Lord, I am so glad I can come home for a few hours every so often. Not that I don’t love it at Hogwarts, I do, but..."
"It’s like you told me last year. Hogwarts is such a busy place that it can wear you out. So you come home to the Den for a little while and recharge yourself, and then head back and beat some sense into those troublesome brats we raised."
Danger chuckled. "As if I could. As if anyone could. At least they have plenty to keep them busy."
"Yes, how are their... private lessons coming?"
"Very well, actually. Harry and Hermione both have one of the spells down pat. Ron’s almost got one, Ginny had one work for her once but then couldn’t do it again. The others are coming along, making the same mistakes they always make, but that’s what Remus is good at. He really is a fine teacher."
Aletha sighed a little, swaying on her feet as she looked out the kitchen window. "He’d make a fine father."
"He does make a fine father," Danger corrected mildly.
"You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do. And let’s not get into it, please."
"All right. But you have to pick a new topic of conversation, then."
"Your work," said Danger promptly. "How is it going?"
"Well, you know I finished my calculations last week. What you didn’t know is that I’m planning on starting the brewing soon. Possibly today, if that shipment of peanut papers comes in."
"Good luck with that, then."
"Thank you."
"And there is something I wanted to ask you," said Danger. "Not about your work, exactly, but about that scrap of parchment Tonks found, the one that told the Healers that Bones and Scrimgeour had been poisoned. Didn’t they suspect foul play back when it first happened? Why wouldn’t they know that already?"
"It was a very subtle poison, and very rare," said Aletha. "Not even many Healers have heard of it. It disguises itself as things normally found in the body, and doesn’t show up on most poison tests. You have to test for one specific compound in order to find it. And it’s not supposed to cause death at all, especially not from heart failure, which is what Vilias died of, so the Healers ruled it out when they were testing. They couldn’t figure out why Bones and Scrimgeour weren’t recovering, but of course it was the poison. It keeps working unless you neutralize it with a highly specific spell and potion combination."
"But when you do..."
Aletha shrugged. "The person’s back on their feet within a few days. That’s the oddest thing — it doesn’t cause any permanent damage. It just makes its victim ill, and keeps them ill, until they get the antidote. It’s like whoever poisoned them didn’t want them dead."
"Except Vilias."
"Except Vilias — but they might not have wanted him dead, either, only they didn’t know that he’d been ill for a long time, or they did but didn’t realize how much that would add to the poison’s effects. I don’t know. It probably doesn’t matter anyway."
"Probably not."
xXxXx
Upstairs, Remus looked up from a packet of papers. "This is good," he said. "This is really good."
"You sound surprised."
"Maybe a little. You’ve been blocked for quite a while."
Sirius shrugged. "I think the Mandragora did it. When it un-rock-ified my body, it did the same thing to my brain."
Remus shook his head. "It’d take more than Mandragora to do that," he said with certainty. "More like a miracle."
"I ignore you," said Sirius with dignity. "Notice that I have heard nothing."
"Mr. Moony submits that Mr. Padfoot always starts hearing nothing right about the time the conversation stops going his way."
"Mr. Padfoot agrees, but reminds Mr. Moony of his tendency to do the same."
"Mr. Moony would like to know if Mr. Padfoot would be amenable to having his manuscript thrown out the window."
"Mr. Padfoot would force Mr. Moony to go out there and pick it all up again."
"Mr. Moony would tell Mr. Padfoot to do it himself."
"Mr. Padfoot would tell Madam Danger on Mr. Moony."
"Cheater."
Sirius grinned. "If it means I win..."
xXxXx
"How goes the Combat Club?" asked Aletha over dinner.
"Oh, wonderfully. The next competition is in just about a week. Don’t tell anyone, but we’ve pulled the slips for it already — it’s Gryffindor and Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw and Slytherin."
"That’s twice you’ve been lucky," said Sirius. "You know what’s going to happen when you pull Gryffindor and Slytherin, don’t you?"
"Yes, of course," said Remus. "They’ll be so busy fighting each other that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff will get an easy win, and Gryffindor and Slytherin will be horribly humiliated. Maybe it’ll teach them to work with their allies, no matter who those allies are."
"We can only hope." Danger rolled her eyes. "At least Snape won’t be able to claim favoritism, if our House — adopted House, for me — goes down with his."
"And we’ve been very careful to stay officially neutral about the matches," added Remus. "Luckily, those wands we got from Fred and George make it easy to tell hits from misses. And the dye’s non-toxic and washes right out, so no one can claim we poisoned them or ruined their favorite robes."
"You know, it almost makes me want to be back at school myself," said Sirius. "Skulking around the hallways of Hogwarts, searching out my enemies, finding them and destroying them where they lair — say, can you control how much dye comes out of those wands?"
Danger chuckled. "Yes, but the students don’t know that. They’ve only been using them on the one level, because none of them have thought to ask if they’re adjustable or not. The twins are sworn to secrecy about it. The first person to ask gets the advantage for their House. I have some money on a Ravenclaw asking first. Remus thinks Hermione will think of it."
"So if you knew the right command, you could set your wand to bombard a room?"
Remus nodded. "You could even — I wouldn’t recommend it, but it’s possible — set your wand to explode and toss it in like a grenade. Come to think, that wouldn’t be a bad use for broken wands, if the war ever starts again."
Sirius laughed. "I’ll have to bring that up at work."
xXxXx
Harry pressed himself against the wall, breathing as quietly as he could. This was a new type of match to him, because the Pride had never had enough people to pull it off — a "VIP" match, where the object of the game was to keep certain people on your own side safe and capture or kill those of your opponent, with more points assigned for a live capture than for a kill. The catch was that neither side could be sure they had complete or correct information about their opponent’s VIP’s.
Harry was almost certain the Slytherclaws would conflate the game with reality and go after him, whether they’d been told he was a VIP for the Gryfflepuff team or not. In truth, he wasn’t. Luna, of all people, had been selected as a Gryfflepuff VIP, along with a Gryffindor sixth year and a pair of Hufflepuff fifth years. Luna was being kept safely behind the lines, while the other three were spread out, with the people in their vicinity having orders to fight just a little harder for them. If their opponents didn’t already know about their VIP status, there was no reason to give it away.
There. Harry’s insides tightened with anticipation — footsteps on the stone, and whispering voices. They couldn’t be Gryfflepuffs, not unless they were scouts coming back from a mission, and there were too many of them to be that. Three, five, eight —
Harry backed up three careful steps and listened again. He wasn’t mistaken. What sounded like the main attack force was coming through here.
And I’m the farthest out — alone —
Part of him wanted to stay and fight it out, insisting that running would be cowardly. Harry wrestled that part to the ground and sat on it. I’m one person. There’s at least twenty of them, probably more. I’m going to need backup. And I have to warn the main force.
Well, that, at least, I can do without leaving.
His hand fell to his side, where he had tied the talisman he’d made the year before in Padfoot and Letha’s Defense class. It turned out that with a slight alteration, these talismans could be used as crude communicators, able to send a limited number of messages to one another. Harry lifted his from where it dangled on its string and whispered "Invasion" to it.
A rune on the talisman’s edge began to glow. Harry nodded with satisfaction — that meant the message had sent correctly — and started backing up again.
He was two steps from the corner when a Ravenclaw scout stuck her head into his hall. She spotted him, shouted, and shot all at the same time. Harry dodged, but couldn’t quite avoid the spray of blue dye.
Damn. Arm wound.
He shot back, nailing the scout before she could duck, then pelted down the side corridor, dodging quickly into the first empty classroom he saw, and pulled out his kit. He wrapped a couple of lengths of white cloth around the spatters of dye on his arm, then tied it off and whispered, "Heal."
The cloth glowed for an instant before subsiding. He could keep fighting now, Harry knew. If he hadn’t dealt with his "wound," the dye on his robes would have kept spreading until it reached his chest or head, at which point he would have been declared incapacitated and had to leave the combat. It was the Combat Club equivalent of bleeding to death.
Which is to say, stupid, if you can deal with it and don’t.
He looked carefully around the door, using only one eye — the side of his head would scream "human" less obviously than the top, he knew. The hall was clear, but it wouldn’t be for long, by the sound of things.
So, do I stay here and hope they don’t check the room, or do I run?
A large Slytherin rounded the corner and solved the problem for him. "Oy! You there!"
Harry whipped his wand around the door and shot the Slytherin in the knee — need to work on my aim, I think — then took off running over the Slytherin’s yells. He screeched to a halt at a cross-corridor.
Maybe I can make it back to our lines before they get me. Or should I play decoy, now that I know they’ve been warned?
Right takes me back to our lines. Left goes into no man’s land.
A spray of green dye shot past his head.
Left it is.
He pounded off down the hall, leading the Slytherclaw invasion force astray, buying enough time for the Gryfflepuff forces to get there and ambush the Slytherclaws from the back, wiping them out. Harry himself had to leave the match when he was hit a second time and didn’t have a chance, in the heat of battle, to stop the "wound" from spreading.
He watched as the Gryfflepuff main army stormed into Slytherclaw territory, taking some heavy losses but not stopping for anything, until they captured three of the Slytherclaw VIP’s and "killed" the last. The only Gryfflepuff VIP casualty was one of the Hufflepuff fifth years, who’d been "killed" by a lone wolf Slytherin agent when she realized he’d summoned help and she was surrounded. She’d then "killed" herself, so that the Gryfflepuffs wouldn’t get the points for her capture.
"So, totaling points, it seems the Gryfflepuffs have won," announced Danger, causing widespread cheering at those two House tables in the Great Hall after the battle. "But—" She raised her hand to stop the cheering. "But. Points aren’t everything. Let’s have a look at the casualty rates." She flicked her wand at the blackboard she’d brought into the hall.
Harry gulped. He’d known the Gryfflepuff losses had been heavy, but he’d had no idea they’d been as heavy as that. They’d lost almost half their force, dead or badly wounded, with their direct invasion of Slytherclaw territory. If they hadn’t captured those three VIP’s alive, they would have lost the match.
"Frontal assault is almost never a good tactic, if you care about the lives of the people you’re fighting with," said Moony from the front. "And you should care about those lives. You should want to do everything in your power to keep those lives going — even from a purely pragmatic standpoint, every person alive and on your side is another person who can help to keep you alive. So use as many tricks as you can. Be sneaky and stealthy and take your victories where you can get them."
"The Slytherclaws’ tactic of sending a decent-sized but not huge invasion force was just fine," Danger added. "If the Gryfflepuffs hadn’t had an alert sentry at the point where the Slytherclaws tried to get in, the Slytherclaws would have made it in, probably found the Gryfflepuff VIP’s, and very possibly won."
"So, next time, refine that strategy," Moony said to the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. "Send out scouts beforehand, maybe. Or see if you can find some way to scout the area magically. And you," he said to the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. "Battles aren’t like essays. Steal your neighbor’s ideas, and feel no shame. It might keep you alive another day. Congratulations, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Fifty points to each of you, and twenty each to Ravenclaw and Slytherin for fighting so well. Dismissed."
"Remember, no practice on Tuesday!" called Danger over the sound of scraping benches and chattering voices. "We won’t be meeting again until after Christmas, so enjoy your free time while you have it!"
xXxXx
Scream. Beat head on wall. Repeat.
Draco was having no luck at all with his Animagus spells. If he got the pronunciation right, he did the movement wrong — if he nailed the movement, the words came out garbled. He’d almost had it once, but it had been late and Moony’d had to send them all back to the Tower. Even Meghan had successfully transformed her leg into a deer’s delicate one and back by now, nearly three weeks after they’d begun work on the spells.
Why can’t I get this?
"Draco?"
He swung his head around. "What d’you want, Neville?" he said grumpily.
"I think you’re not choking up on your wand enough," said Neville diffidently. "Just a guess, but it worked for me."
Draco looked down at his wand. He was holding it rather close to the end.
It’s worth a try. He shortened his grip until he felt the back end of the wand pressing against his wrist. Then he touched the tip to his left leg, stroked it three times along the thigh and once along the calf, and said carefully, "Femur et sura vulpionis albatus."
With a strange tingling sensation, his leg shortened, changed shape, and sprouted a thick coat of white fur.
"Yes!" Draco punched the air triumphantly. "Got it!"
Moony hurried over. "Nice work," he said, bending over Draco’s newly changed leg. "Wiggle your foot for me?"
Draco followed his Pack-father’s instructions, getting used to the different way this leg worked, even, carefully, putting a very little bit of his weight on it, just so he would know how it felt to use this sort of foot.
"Change it back, and you’re good to move on," said Moony finally, sitting back.
"Reditio femur et sura," recited Draco, waving his wand in a circle around his leg, which lengthened with another curious tingling sensation. The fur shrank and vanished, and the leg reshaped itself into human form.
"Good work," said Moony after he’d checked to be sure Draco’s leg was the way it had been before he’d tried the spell. "Now, do it three more times just that way."
Draco groaned for form’s sake, but he didn’t actually mind.
I got it. I really got it. I’m not hopeless, I’m not stupid. I just have to keep working.
And not be too proud to accept help.
"Thanks, Neville," he said over his shoulder.
"You’re welcome."
xXxXx
He stood up slowly, easing his back. He liked working here. Weeds never snapped off in the ground just below the surface, or grew back bigger than before from just the one tiny shoot you’d missed. Plants thrived where you wanted them to, or if they didn’t, you knew why and could help them. There weren’t any nasty blights or diseases to worry about.
And, of course, she was usually here with him. He watched her, busily setting in the last of the transplants they’d raised together in the greenhouse from seed. It never seemed to be winter here, but it was never too hot either.
He wondered a little why they were the only ones who came here on a regular basis. Wouldn’t the rest want to come? They certainly seemed to like it during the parties they had in the summertime. And it was quiet here, unless you wanted it noisy. Very peaceful. A good place to rest and relax, and practice things.
"Come on," she said, standing up and brushing the last of the dirt off her hands. "Let’s go try those spells again."
"All right." He started walking with her towards the castle. That was another nice thing — spells never rebounded or went wrong here. If you hadn’t done them right, they just wouldn’t work at all. And the others would watch and give them tips. It was how he’d known what to tell Draco, because Adam had told it to him the week before, and that was how he’d gotten the spell to work.
"Neville, come on!" Meghan repeated, laughing. "We have to wake up sometime, you know!"
Laughing with her, Neville let her pull him faster across the lawn, until they were both running, and then floating, just touching the surface of the grass with their toes. It felt like flying, or like dancing, or like both, dancing through the air, as though they were made of nothing heavier than feathers or thistledown.
He never wanted to stop.
xXxXx
"Who will tell a story?" said Hermione at the late November den-night. "Who will remind us of what it means to be Pride?"
Harry waved his hand. "Not a story," he said. "But I do have an announcement. We — that’s us four," he indicated the cubs, "are staying here for the holidays."
"We are?"
"Since when?"
"How do you know?
"Yes, since this afternoon, and Moony told me."
"Why?" asked Hermione.
"Don’t know. He wouldn’t say. But he did say Padfoot and Letha are coming to stay too."
"That’s odd," said Draco. "If it’s something we all need to do, why can’t we do it at the Den?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe it’s something magical, something they can only do here. I don’t know."
"Well, if you’re staying, I might as well," said Ron. "I’ll still get my presents, and it’ll be two weeks away from the twins. They’re being right prats these days."
"Me too," said Ginny. "Mum always invites all our oldest relatives for Christmas dinner, and they always make a huge fuss over me because I’m the first Weasley girl in generations. It had to happen sometime, there’s no need to make a big deal over me just because I’m it."
"You think you have relatives?" said Neville, grinning a little. "If Gran’ll let me stay, I will."
"Moony mentioned you, actually," said Harry, frowning in thought. "He said he’d written to your gran, and she was going to write to you."
Neville looked surprised. "I wonder why."
"Maybe what they’re doing has something to do with you," Luna offered. "I think I’ll stay too, if you all are. You might need me."
Draco laughed. "I don’t know about need," he said. "But I like having you around."
"Thank you. I like having you around too."
xXxXx
Hermione hurried outside into a curtain of falling snow, tucking her red and gold scarf around her neck. "Wait for me!" she called after the boys, who were headed down to Hagrid’s for Care of Magical Creatures. "Wait up!"
"You hurry up," Harry called back cheerfully. "Slowpoke!"
Hermione bent down and obtained a handful of snow without slowing, packed it just hard enough to stay together, and fired it off at the back of Harry’s head. It struck with a satisfying piff, making a neat white circle on his black hair.
"Oi!" Harry whirled around, snatched up a handful of snow of his own, and threw it at her. Hermione ducked, and it hit Pansy Parkinson, who had been just behind her. With a squeal of indignation, Pansy dropped her schoolbag and scooped up some snow.
Within a few seconds, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike had abandoned bags and books and were running about, firing missiles back and forth, shouting insults with them, only some of which were meant — it was getting towards Christmas, after all. The fight only stopped when Hagrid came out to see what was keeping his class.
"Had a couple o’the other professors set this up fer me," he told them as he ushered them all inside a large tent, where Hermione gratefully shed her coat and scarf and set down her bag. "I’d planned on doin’ salamanders with yeh, but they won’ get here till next term, an’ I didn’ want anyone gettin’ sick so close ter the holidays. I’ll take yer homework now."
Hermione rummaged in her bag and pulled out her essay — two feet on why it was important to preserve wild spaces for magical animals — and handed it to Hagrid, who collected the entire class’s scrolls in one hand, then set them aside. "Gather ‘round, now," he said.
There was a large basin on the table near one end of the tent. The class approached it curiously. "Now don’t nobody make loud noises when yeh handle ‘em," Hagrid warned. "They don’ like that."
"What are they?" asked Dudley Dursley, staring with fascination at the ten or twelve gray-and-green mottled lobster-like creatures crawling about in the tub, which was filled with mossy rocks.
"Mackled Malaclaws," proclaimed Hagrid, lifting one up for the class to look at. "Live down by the sea, on rocky beaches an’ the like. I’ve got their claws bound, but they might break the bindings — they do that if they’re startled — and if they give yeh a bite, or a pinch, yeh’ll have bad luck fer a week. So be careful with ‘em."
Hermione moved forward and carefully slid her hands into the tub, picking up one of the Malaclaws. Its shell was hard and smooth and sleek, like fine china. It waved its antennae at her, but didn’t try to break the bands Hagrid had tied around its pincers.
Several other people were holding Malaclaws now. Hermione offered hers to Ron, who took it gingerly. "What’s wrong?" she asked.
"I’m not too keen to get a week’s bad luck."
"That’s only if it pinches you," said Hermione. "Just holding it won’t do anything. And it won’t pinch you unless it’s startled."
"How do I know what startles an overgrown bug?"
"Hagrid said, Ron. Loud noises. And probably all the things that startle normal creatures, like getting hurt or being dropped." Hermione looked around the tent. Harry and Neville were talking to Hagrid and watching the two Malaclaws that no one was holding scuttle over the rocks, Neville going so far as to stroke one of them gingerly. Lavender, Parvati, and Colleen were taking turns gingerly touching the shell of the one Dean was cradling as Draco handed his off to Seamus.
"How do I know if I’m hurting it?"
"Most things make a fuss if they’re being hurt." Hermione looked at the Malaclaw, which was holding perfectly still in Ron’s hands. "I think you’re fine."
"Yes, but what if—"
At the end of the tent, something exploded. Half the class shrieked as their Malaclaws suddenly thrashed in their hands, snapping the string tied around their pincers and lashing out. Ron roared in pain and let go of his Malaclaw, which dangled from his hand by one pincer. Hermione whipped out her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The Malaclaw rose an inch or two, and Ron used his other hand to pry its claw off him. Hermione levitated it back to the tub of rocks and dropped it in. All around, the other students were following her example.
"Anyone who got bit, go on up ter the hospital wing," said Hagrid gloomily as the last Malaclaw dropped onto the rocks. "Class dismissed, no homework."
"Wait a second!" objected Theodore Nott. "We’re just supposed to leave? After someone sabotaged our class?"
"An’ what would yeh like me ter do?" asked Hagrid, rather sarcastically for him.
"At least have a look round! See what made that noise!"
The other Slytherins muttered agreement.
"If yeh insist," said Hagrid with dignity, and went down to the other end of the tent, where everyone’s schoolbags lay in a pile. He bent down, then straightened and turned. "Here yeh are," he said, holding something out to Nott. "Fireworks. Same as happened in Professor Snape’s class a month’r so ago."
"And we know who did that," said Nott, turning to stare at Harry. "Funny how Potter wasn’t holding one of those things when they went off."
"I didn’t do anything!" said Harry angrily.
Nott snatched the remains of the bundle of fireworks from Hagrid and examined it. "They were Spellotaped together," he said, showing them to the other Slytherins. "Probably spelled to go off at one end only, so they’d make more noise. And — look at this."
"What is it?" "What?" "Is it important?" The Gryffindors, forgetting House pride, crowded closer.
"It’s a piece of parchment," said Nott, peering at it in his hands, shouldering the other Slytherins away when they tried to look. "Looks like it was torn off an essay."
Draco snorted. "You think someone tore the corner off their essay and stuck it under the Spellotape they put on the fireworks just so you could find it?" he asked sarcastically.
"How did you know it was a corner?" said Nott swiftly. "I never said it was a corner."
"What else would it be?"
"It could have been an edge piece. Nothing said it had to be a corner. But you knew it was a corner."
"What are you saying?"
Nott whirled and went to the table where Hagrid had set down the scrolls containing the class’s essays. He began to sort through them, unrolling them just far enough to see the names, then putting them aside. After about seven, he nodded and unrolled one all the way.
A piece was missing from the bottom corner of the scroll. Nott turned it around so that everyone could see the name signed at the top.
Draco Black.
Nott pulled the little corner of parchment free of the Spellotape and held it against the ripped corner of Draco’s essay. There was no doubt where it had come from.
"Very funny joke, Black," he said coldly. "Getting half the class a week of bad luck. I notice you’d given yours to Finnegan just before these went off. And Potter and Granger-Lupin weren’t holding them, either. Did you tip them off before class, or did they take their chances with the rest of us?"
Draco stared at him, open-mouthed. Angry murmurs were running through the Slytherins. Even Seamus and Dean looked mad, Hermione noticed unhappily. Ron didn’t seem quite sure what to think.
"Get ter the hospital wing an’ get those bites seen ter," rumbled Hagrid. "Go on, out. An’ don’t go spreadin’ gossip around the school. It spreads itself just fine."
The class left in twos and threes, most of them glaring back at Draco as they went. Finally, the three cubs were alone with Hagrid.
"I didn’t do it," said Draco fervently. "I swear I didn’t."
"I never said yeh did," said Hagrid, tucking the essays into his pocket and picking up the bin full of Malaclaws. "Someone run ahead an’ open the door fer me?"
Harry jogged out of the tent ahead of Hagrid. Hermione picked up her own schoolbag and his. "We know you didn’t," she said to Draco. "Hagrid knows you didn’t. Don’t listen to Nott."
"Easy for you to say. He’ll probably have told the whole school about it by dinner. And there’s nothing I can do."
"There’s one thing," said Hermione, leading the way out of the tent. "At least to the people who know you and were here, like Dean and Seamus."
"What’s that?"
"You could point out how fast Nott figured everything out. And how pat it all was. Like he’d practiced it beforehand."
Draco groaned. "I’m such an idiot. He did this, didn’t he? Set it up, and framed it on me?"
"I can’t think of any other way it could have happened. Was your essay torn like that when you finished it?"
"I don’t have a perfect memory like you do, Neenie."
Hermione flicked him on the ear. "Just try to remember."
Draco squinted at Hagrid’s hut, looming up out of the falling snow. "No. I don’t think it was. I don’t remember it being ripped or messy when I rolled it up last night."
"Maybe Nott got to it during the snowball fight, then," Hermione suggested as Fang came bounding up to them. "Took it out, ripped off that corner, stuck it on, and put it away again... wait!"
"What?"
"I know a way we can find out!" Hermione sped up the steps and in through the door Harry was still holding open. "Hagrid, can I see Draco’s essay?"
"In my coat pocket," said Hagrid, waving a hand at the moleskin overcoat draped across the big armchair. Hermione rummaged in the pockets, coming up with two broken quills, a small corked potion bottle, a few pebbles with scorch marks on them, and finally the parchment scrolls. She unrolled them as Nott had done and finally found Draco’s, unrolling it all the way.
"I was right," she said, smiling with satisfaction. "Come here, look, quick."
"What is it?" asked Harry, frowning at the tiny, circular blotches that covered the surface of the essay. "It almost looks like someone cried on it."
"Maybe you cry over homework, but I don’t," said Draco sarcastically.
"Stop it," said Hermione. "You’re almost right, Harry. It’s wet spots, but not from tears. From snowflakes. Nott had it unrolled outside before class started, and it’s been snowing all day. Snowflakes landed on it and made these spots."
"We should tell people," said Harry. "This proves Nott did it, not you, Draco."
"Don’t bother," Draco said, turning away. "They won’t listen to you."
"How do you know, if we haven’t even tried yet?"
"Trust me. They won’t listen. You’re my brother and sister, you’d defend me no matter what. So don’t even bother trying. Just let it run its course and die. Everyone’ll have the holidays to forget about it."
The teakettle whistled. Hagrid took it off the fire and filled the teapot. "If yeh ask me," he said casually, "someone seems ter have a grudge against yeh, Draco. What’s this now, the second time someone’s made trouble in class and yeh took the blame?"
"Third," said Harry suddenly. "It’s the third time, Hagrid. That firework in Snape’s class, whoever threw it was aiming for Draco’s cauldron."
"Why would I throw a firework in my own cauldron, though?" protested Draco as he sat down at the table and accepted a mug of tea. "No one would believe that."
"Unless someone claimed you were trying to make people think you’d never do that," said Hermione with a sigh, sitting down opposite her brother. "So that you’d done it in a way to make people think you hadn’t done it. That’s probably what they’d say if we pointed out how stupid it would be for you to have stuck a piece of your own essay to the fireworks, too."
Harry groaned. "It’s as bad as iocaine powder," he said, making Draco and Hermione both laugh.
"I’ll speak with Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid, bringing a plate of fudge and the sugar bowl to the table. "There won’ be trouble fer this, Draco, don’t yeh worry."
"I won’t," said Draco with a sigh. "Or at least I’ll try not to."
"You will," said Hermione with certainty.
"It would be a shame if he didn’t," said Harry. "He’s so good at it."
Draco dropped a piece of fudge into Harry’s tea.
xXxXx
Remus did his part to quell the rumors which flew about Draco’s supposed sabotage of the Care of Magical Creatures class, quietly, of course, since the last thing they needed was a charge of nepotism. Luckily, both Ron and Neville were skeptical about the idea that Draco had set the fireworks and perfectly willing to be convinced by Hermione and Harry’s arguments. Both bore their week of bad luck stoically, rather more so than Dean and Seamus or the Slytherins who had been bitten. Remus was careful not to assign anything dangerous in Defense Against the Dark Arts for that week.
The rumors had almost died away by the last Saturday of term, which was another Hogsmeade day. Danger accompanied Remus and the Pride to Hogsmeade, so that everyone could get their Christmas shopping done. There were many cheerful shouts of "Don’t peek!" and "Nobody look!" as small groups of people dashed in and out of aisles, clutching items to their chests.
Ron and Draco both took a little longer than the others, since they had Ginny’s and Luna’s lists respectively as well as their own. Draco ended up with a huge bundle of packages to carry, and finally handed them off to Hermione for a moment and asked Remus for permission to do a spell. When it was granted, he shot a bright blue streak of light from his wand towards the castle, dimly visible through the falling snow.
Within a few minutes, Morpheus was settling on his master’s wrist. "Summoning Spell," said Draco happily as the rest of the Pride applauded him. "Here you go, boy. Leave ‘em on my bed, please?"
The owl hooted, then fluttered down onto the string holding the bundles together and flapped his wings hard for takeoff. The packages weren’t heavy, Remus knew, only bulky, or he would have gotten an owl or two from the post office to help Morpheus.
The Pride watched until the dark owl disappeared amid the swirling snow. Finally, Hermione shivered. "Let’s have some hot butterbeer," she said. "I’m freezing."
This was decided to be a good idea, and the Pride and professors trooped into the Three Broomsticks. It was quite full. Several people called cheerful greetings to them as they entered, and a trio of Hufflepuffs vacated their table to make room for the group, moving over to sit with a pair of Ravenclaws.
"Here’s to a good holiday," said Draco, raising his mug.
"To Dadfoot and Mama Letha coming to stay," added Meghan.
"To having the castle practically to ourselves," toasted Hermione.
"To Christmas presents," said Harry, grinning at Remus, who lifted his mug in reply. A deal was a deal, and it hadn’t been Harry’s fault he’d fallen from his broomstick, after all.
"To Ravenclaw beating Hufflepuff well enough to put us back in the running," was Ron’s contribution.
"Here, here," chimed everyone, and drank to all the various toasts.
"Professor Lupin?" said Neville after taking a sip of his butterbeer.
"What’s on your mind, Neville?"
"Is there some reason everyone is staying at Hogwarts for the holidays? Well, not everyone, but us?"
Remus looked at Danger. Do you think we should tell them now?
Danger checked her watch. We’re due back at the castle in half an hour. Why don’t we wait until later, and tell them all at once, and in private?
Sounds like a plan. "Yes, there is a reason," said Remus aloud. "But it’s not something we should be talking about in public. When we get back to the castle, after dinner, we’ll let you know."
xXxXx
After dinner, the Pride gathered in the Defense teacher’s office.
"You all know, I’m sure, what Mrs. Freeman-Black has been working on this fall," Remus began, leaning forward on his desk. Everyone nodded, Neville suddenly looking very interested indeed. "What you may not know is that she’s successfully completed the potion. They’ve run the standard tests on it to be sure it’s not toxic, and it checks out. They plan to administer it tonight."
Meghan made an excited sound and pressed Neville’s hand. Neville had gone very pale, and was looking at Remus oddly.
"But we think there might be something else needed," said Danger from beside Remus. "Something besides just the potion, to effect a full recovery. Actually, we’re almost sure of it." She took the sheet of parchment from her pocket where she had written the relevant lines from her dream at the beginning of the summer. "You all know about my dreams, and where they come from. This is from one of them."
Hermione took the parchment and read the lines aloud.
The badger’s son, his lady bright,
Both wander now in endless night,
And from that night they must be freed.
The eagle’s daughter help shall need;
From badger’s younger son, whose heart
From hers shall ne’er be torn apart;
And from the other lions young,
The help of hand and voice and tongue.
"Young lions is the Pride," said Remus into the silence. "At least, so we assume. We know Meghan is the eagle’s daughter. What we’re not sure about is the badger’s son. But we have a guess."
"Someone whose heart is joined to Meghan’s," said Danger. "And someone who seems, from the way the poetry is set up, to be related to the people we’re trying to help."
Harry made a faintly disbelieving noise, and Draco rolled his eyes towards Neville. "Agreed," said Remus. "That in itself wasn’t so hard. What made us doubt it was the way it was put. Meghan’s been referred to in the poems before in other ways. Calling her ‘eagle’s daughter’ seems to be meant to bring our attention to the fact that she’s a blood Heir, and to suggest that the person referred to as ‘badger’s son’ might also be a blood Heir."
Everyone looked at Neville. Neville looked shocked. "M-me? A b-blood Heir? Of who?"
"Being the badger’s son would make you Hufflepuff’s Heir," said Danger. "And I have to admit, it does seem to fit you. Your father was a Hufflepuff, wasn’t he?"
Neville nodded dumbly.
"You love plants," said Harry. "You’re the best in the year in Herbology."
"You’re always worried about making sure everything is fair," said Hermione.
"And people look right past Hufflepuffs, like they aren’t even there," said Draco. "Because they seem like the ‘everybody else’ House, without any really good qualities of their own. Maybe that’s why you can disappear."
"You’re going to be a demiguise Animagus," put in Ron. "Demiguises can go invisible, that’s where Invisibility Cloaks come from."
Neville stared at his hands, then back up at Remus and Danger. "Would — does this — I mean, do I have to be a Hufflepuff now?"
"I doubt it," said Danger. "The Sorting Hat would have known, even if you didn’t. And it put you in Gryffindor, nonetheless. You certainly seem to belong there, from the way you keep up with these lunatics." She waved at the cubs.
"There is something we can do to test it, though," said Remus, turning around to get the thing he’d brought to his office for just this purpose. "Here."
He set the potted plant on the table. Neville came over to it, looking at it closely. "Say hello to it," Remus instructed. "Like you would if it was yours, if you’d just bought it, or been given it as a gift."
Neville twined his fingers around the plant’s stems, rubbed its leaves and sniffed his fingers, crumbled a little of the dirt it was planted in. The Pride drew around the desk to watch, sensing an event in the making.
"What is it?" asked Danger quietly.
"It’s lavender," said Neville, frowning. "I think. It doesn’t smell quite right. Is it a hybrid?"
Remus nodded. "A new type," he said. "It’s just come out. Can you tell what it was cross-bred with?"
Neville sniffed the leaves again, then shook his head. "Not without smelling the flowers, no."
"Then why don’t you smell the flowers?" asked Danger.
Neville looked at her in a way that would have been accompanied by a smart comment, had he been any of the other boys of the Pride. "There aren’t any," he said, his tone halfway between respectful and worried for her sanity.
"Why not?"
"Because it’s the wrong season. Lavender flowers in the summer, and it’s coming on winter now."
"But this plant lives indoors. It could flower now, nothing bad would happen to it."
"Would you like to find out what it was bred with?" asked Remus before Neville could answer Danger.
"Yes, but..."
"No buts."
Neville looked from one of them to the other, then sighed and turned back to the plant. Meghan drew near and laid a hand on his wrist, pulling his sleeve back to do it.
Hermione and Ginny gasped as the lavender suddenly moved, straightening up, becoming a brighter shade of green. Neville had one hand gently clasped around the bush of the leaves at the bottom and was staring at the plant with an absent sort of concentration.
You were right, Remus told Danger as buds swelled at the top of the newly lengthened stems. All he needed was some incentive.
The buds burst open, revealing clusters of small purple flowers streaked with white. A sweet fragrance filled the room. Luna licked her lips. "Vanilla," she said.
"Vanilla," Neville repeated, looking up from the plant. "They cross-bred lavender with vanilla orchids?"
"Very experimental work," said Danger. "They weren’t even sure it would turn out. But it did. I believe they’re trying for a vanilla rose next."
Neville blinked, and seemed to see the lavender flowers for the first time. "Did I do that?"
"The hereditary power of the Hufflepuff line is with plants," said Remus. "I can’t think of anyone else in this room who could have done it."
"But — I don’t even know what I did!"
"You wanted it," said Danger. "You wanted the plant to bloom, and it did. Just like you want your garden to grow, and the plants you tend in Herbology to thrive. So they do."
Neville looked astounded and thrilled. "I — I really am. I really am an Heir. Just like Meghan. We’re both..." He trailed off. "That’s why," he said, as if to himself. "That’s why we go there."
Remus felt a mild curiosity about this, but let it pass. "Congratulations," he said instead, offering Neville his hand. "I’m sure your parents will be very proud of you."
Neville shook his hand, beaming.
"Now, about that," said Danger. "If we’re reading the poem correctly, the potion which Mrs. Freeman-Black made will help the Longbottoms. But Meghan is going to have to finish their healing herself. You lot are involved somehow, but how, I have no idea..."
Hermione put up her hand as if she were in class. "Meghan did something," she said when Remus pointed to her. "When Neville was looking at the plant. She touched him, and just after she did, the plant started growing. It was like she gave him extra power."
"But she’ll be the one who needs extra power when she’s healing," said Ron. "Otherwise she’ll have to stay in bed for two months again."
"So maybe they can do it the other way around," said Draco. "Maybe Neville can help Meghan heal."
"What do you think?" Remus asked the two in question. They looked at each other and shrugged.
"Can I see that?" said Harry, pointing to the parchment Hermione was still holding. She passed it over to Harry, who skimmed it. "And from the other lions young, The help of hand and voice and tongue," he read out. "If Meghan’s going to go really deep into healing on purpose, maybe what we have to do is give her a way back."
"A way back?" asked Ginny.
"You remember when Meghan first healed me, when I was hurt so badly at the Quidditch match? We were in a room that had a lot of corridors leading out of it, and we couldn’t tell which one led back to the real world, until we heard the music."
"That’s right!" Draco sat up straighter. "When we sang for you! You said you heard us, and you felt stronger, and you followed our voices home!"
"So that’s what we’re supposed to do," said Harry, slapping the parchment in triumph. "We’re supposed to keep Meghan strong, and show her the way home. With music, the way you did for us that first time."
"Don’t celebrate yet," said Danger over the sounds of impending cheers. "There’s still one important question to ask." She looked at Meghan. "Are you willing to do this? The only thing we know about it for certain is that it’s not going to be easy. We have no idea what you’ll face, or if you can even do it at all. Are you willing to try?"
Meghan looked at the parchment in Harry’s hand, at Neville, whose hand she was still holding, then back at Danger, and nodded. "I’ll do it," she said, lifting her head. "When can we start?"
"That depends on you," said Remus. "And to some extent on all of you. Do you want to try this before Christmas Day, or after? I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to have Christmas first, since this may steal a lot of your energy — if you try it before Christmas, it’s entirely possible you’ll sleep through the day."
"Our presents won’t go bad," said Ginny firmly. "And the house-elves love making feasts, they won’t mind if they have to cook us a separate Christmas dinner. It would be wrong of us to make Neville wait to see his parents again just because we wanted to have our holiday first."
Neville walked over to Ginny and hugged her tightly, tears starting to leak from his eyes.
Harry had been communing silently with the rest of the Pride. Now he looked at Remus. "How soon can we do it?" he asked.
Remus picked up Aletha’s letter and ran his eyes down through it, finding the paragraph he wanted. "The Healers want to wait three days after the potion’s administered to make sure the Longbottoms are stable," he said. "After that, probably a day to bring them here and make sure they’re comfortable, and to get set up."
Harry frowned in thought. "So Thursday’s the earliest day we could do it, if they give them the potion tonight."
"Yes."
Another quick poll by eye contact, and Harry nodded. "Thursday’s fine."
He sounds like he’s setting up a lunch appointment, Danger noted.
Remus was able to keep his face straight until the Pride had left the office.