Dealing with Danger
Chapter 15: Look at It This Way (Year 3)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 15: Look at It This Way
"I’m almost sorry Slytherin won that match against Ravenclaw," said Draco, rubbing his hands together to try and warm them up. "Wood’s gone mad for practice."
"More mad," corrected Ron, leaning against the wall. "He was always mad."
"So true," said Fred, pushing the big oak door closed. "But you’re right, Ron — he’s never been quite this bad before."
"Everything’s never been riding on one match like it is on ours against Ravenclaw," Ginny pointed out. "If we lose, we’re out of the running for the Cup, and this year is Wood’s last chance."
"You don’t have to tell us, Gin," said George, massaging his shoulder where Fred had hit it by accident with his bat. "He tells us himself often enough."
"Lay off her," said Harry, leading the way across the entrance hall. "You were asking why Wood’s having us practice five times a week, and she told you."
"I didn’t ask," said Fred. "I was just saying."
"You as good as asked," said Ron.
Fred looked oddly at his brother. "Why would I ask a question I already know the answer to?"
"How should I know how your mind works? Assuming you even have one?"
"Oh, and who was it asking me for help with his Charms homework the other day?"
"Shut up," said Draco wearily. "Harry, any chance you know a secret passage that could get us to the common room sooner?"
"Not off the top of my head. Wish we had the Map."
"Well, we don’t, and wishing won’t make it come," said Ginny testily. "So why don’t we just keep moving and get there as soon as we can the normal way?"
Harry looked at Ron. "Is she always like this when she’s cold and tired?" he asked.
"Thought you would have figured that out by now, Harry," said George as Ron and Fred both nodded. "We’ve been having practices like this for what, three weeks now?"
"But Harry’s always rushing off to get somewhere else right afterwards," said Draco. "I think this is the first time he’s come in with us since term started again."
"Yeah, Harry, where are you all the time these days?" asked Fred. "You’re never in the common room anymore."
"During all our free time, right?" said Harry sarcastically. "I’m having private lessons with Professor Lupin, and I’m not good for much after they’re over, so I have to get right inside after Quidditch to do my homework."
George looked intrigued. "Private lessons? What about?"
"He said it was private," said Ginny, elbowing her brother. "That means it’s none of your business."
"Everything is our business, O small sister," said Fred loftily. "If it isn’t our business, we make it our business. And it strikes me that some of those times Harry’s not around, neither are you. Or Ron, or Draco, or any of your little gang."
"It’s called a Pride," said Ron. "And we can do what we want."
"Of course you can, little brother," said George patronizingly, reaching up and patting Ron on the head. "Of course you can."
Harry sighed. The truth was that with Quidditch practice, homework, and Patronus lessons, he hadn’t had time to do any real work on his Animagus spells since term had started again. It was all the more frustrating because everyone else was progressing so well. Predictably, Hermione was doing the best; it was even possible that she’d have finished the partial transformations within another month or so.
Then all she has to do is take the potion and write her final incantation, and she’ll be an Animagus...
"Earth to Harry," said Draco, waving a hand in front of his eyes. "Come in, Harry."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Good question," said Ron. "You asleep on your feet or what?"
"Almost," said Harry, stifling a yawn. "Sorry, I was just thinking."
"Quick, someone owl the Daily Prophet," said Ginny. Harry glared at her, but another yawn made him squint and ruined the effect.
"Hold still, Harry," said George. "We’ll give you a ride."
"Wha—" He never finished the word. Quicker than his eyes could follow, the twins had their wands out, and he was suspended in midair between them.
"No tricks," Fred assured him. "Just a nice easy trip to Gryffindor Tower."
"You can even take a nap up there if you like," suggested George as they set off.
Harry considered hexing the twins, but that would probably mean they’d drop him. Besides, a nap was sounding better and better. He closed his eyes and let the rocking motion created by the twins’ steps soothe him, and sleep came surprisingly quickly.
xXxXx
Most of Gryffindor House was highly amused when the portrait hole opened and Fred and George Weasley levitated in a sleeping Harry Potter, one arm dangling and his mouth slightly open.
"He’s wearing himself out," said Hermione as Fred carefully lowered Harry into an armchair.
"How so?" asked George, leaning over the back of the sofa.
"We all of us have a lot going on, with classes and Combat Club, and our... other project," said Hermione, taking Harry’s glasses off and setting them on the table in front of him. "And you all have Quidditch as well. But Harry also has those lessons with Moony — Professor Lupin, I mean. That’s five big, important things. I think he’s working too hard."
"Someone write this down," said Ron. "Hermione Granger-Lupin thinks somebody else is working too hard."
"She has a point, though," said Ginny, dropping into a chair herself. "Harry does have a lot going on."
"So tell him that," said Luna, turning a page in her Transfiguration book. "He’s not stupid. He’ll see he has to decide what’s really important."
"That’s not the problem," said Draco. "The problem is, he might decide the wrong things."
"Then he has some trouble." Luna scratched her cheek with her quill, leaving a line of ink behind, then scribbled something on her parchment. "Everybody has to have trouble."
"She’s right," said Neville. "We’re not Harry’s babysitters. He can take care of himself. We should just point out to him that he’s doing an awful lot of things all at once, and let him decide what to do himself."
xXxXx
"I can handle it," said Harry firmly, bringing his foot onto his bed to tie his shoe. "I have been handling it. And I’m fine."
"You’re not sleeping," said Draco, sitting cross-legged on his bed, one hand on his globe. "That’s not a good definition of ‘fine.’"
"You don’t enjoy Quidditch like you used to," added Ron. "You used to look happy every time we went down to the pitch. Now you look like you’re going to detention."
"Well, what do you think I should do, if you’re so smart?" Harry challenged, pulling up his other foot.
Ron and Draco had a silent but vehement conversation. Ron surrendered first. "You’ve got to give something up," he said unhappily. "You can’t keep doing all this."
"Give something up? Like what? Classes?"
"Don’t be stupid," said Draco.
"No, that’s your department," Harry shot back, standing up. "I told you, I’m fine. And I’m not giving anything up. Not unless someone makes me."
xXxXx
"Sit it out?" Harry jumped to his feet, staring angrily at Percy. "What do you mean, sit it out?"
"Harry, you haven’t been to practice since term started."
"I’ve been busy with Quidditch!"
"Well, then, Quidditch is obviously more important to you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you’re a fine player — nonetheless, I can’t let you take part in the match tomorrow if you haven’t the slightest idea what we’ll be doing."
"I can find out!"
"How, if you don’t have the time to come to practice?"
Harry stared at Percy, feeling baffled anger mount in his chest — he wanted to shout and storm, but making a scene wouldn’t get him anywhere, and something inside him was telling him Percy was actually in the right...
"Fine," he said finally, turning on his heel to head back to the Pride, who were sitting on the other side of the common room.
"No luck?" asked Draco as Harry threw himself into an armchair.
"No luck," Harry confirmed. "How did he get to be Combat Club Captain for Gryffindor, anyway?"
"Don’t know," said Ron. "He was doing things like keeping track of who came to practice and who was good at what from the beginning. I think now people are just noticing it."
"Percy’s very good at organizing things," said Hermione. "He’s got an orderly mind, and he likes things around him to be orderly too."
"Just having an orderly mind doesn’t necessarily make him a good leader, though," said Draco. "I hope we don’t regret putting him in charge."
"Draco, it’s a game," said Ron, dipping his quill into the inkpot. "What’s the worst that could happen?"
xXxXx
"You’re not allowed to ask ‘What’s the worst that could happen’ anymore," Meghan muttered to Ron.
They sat back to back in a corridor deep in Slytherpuff territory, with a Hufflepuff fourth year guarding them. The Slytherpuff team was dominating the match so far, having taken more than half of the necessary territory of the castle to win. Percy and Penelope Clearwater, the joint heads of the Gryffinclaw team, had sent out several small scouting squads to check the Slytherpuffs’ defenses.
This, in itself, wouldn’t have been so bad. The trouble was that Percy had insisted on telling each squad precisely where to go, and how long to take doing it. Ron had tried to object to the route his squad of three had been assigned, but Percy wouldn’t listen to him.
"I think I know a little more about it than you do, Ronald," he’d said officiously. "And Gills here won’t let anything happen to you." Gills, a Ravenclaw sixth year, had given Ron a very confident smile and led them out.
Ron wondered how confident Gills’ smile was now. They’d been jumped at the exact point he’d suspected they would be, and although he and Meghan had each accounted for one or two of their attackers, there had been too many for them to escape. To Gills’ credit, he had been "killed" trying to defend them, and that had given Meghan time to activate her locator, telling the main force that there were enemies along their scouting run.
But they had still been captured, and Ron had been "wounded" in the arm. He’d been allowed to bandage it, stopping the damage from spreading, but it would still count as points for the Slytherpuffs, as would their capture.
Unless we can get away somehow. Then it’s points to Gryffinclaw, both ways — taking points from them, because they won’t have us anymore, and we get points of our own for a successful escape... even if we get "killed" trying to get away, that’s fewer points to them than if we’re still alive at the end of the match...
Ron moved forward a little bit. "Hold still!" snapped the Hufflepuff, pointing her wand at him.
"I need to scratch," Ron said, trying to sound whiny. He was rather unsettled by how well he succeeded. "My back itches."
The Hufflepuff kept her wand trained on him. "All right," she said, waving at him.
Ron scratched his back, turning as he did so that he could see Meghan, who had also turned a little in place. "What’s your name?" he asked the Hufflepuff.
"Brianna Morgan," she said, still watching him suspiciously. "You’re a Weasley, aren’t you?"
"Ron Weasley. I’d say nice to meet you, but..."
Morgan gave a short laugh. "Nicer for me than you, I think. You’re a good shot, Weasley. You took out a couple of my friends back there."
"No hard feelings, I hope."
Morgan shrugged. "All’s fair in war and pick-up Quidditch."
"Which one is this again?" asked Ron, using his most clueless voice and making both girls laugh.
He brought his hands around to his front, being sure to move slowly and keep them where Morgan could see them, and looked over at Meghan. "She’s not a bad sort for a Hufflepuff," he told the younger girl, scratching the ring finger of his left hand while curling the other ones out of the way. "Don’t you think?"
"Definitely," Meghan agreed, sticking out the first two fingers of her right hand and swinging them back and forth horizontally.
Ron arched his back, stretching. "I think I got a five on that last assignment for Snape," he said casually. "But it could have been a four."
"What, not a three?" Meghan asked, shifting position and touching Ron’s wrist. A tingle ran up his arm, and suddenly he felt stronger. "Or a two?"
"Not on this one."
"You probably deserved a zero."
The word had barely left Meghan’s lips when the two of them were up and charging Morgan. Ron slammed into her, taking her down hard, and Meghan yanked the wand from her hand before she could shoot. "Gryffindor," she said into the point of the wand, then swung it at a nearby wall. A spurt of red-orange dye shot from it. "We’re good," she said, pointing the wand back at Morgan.
"Nice trick," gasped Morgan as Ron got off her chest, making sure he was never between her and Meghan. "You are good."
"Thanks. You too." Ron held out his hand, and Meghan gave him the wand. "Sorry about this, but we can’t let you run off and tell." He swung the wand down hard, spraying dye all over Morgan’s chest.
"Don’t worry too much," said Morgan, lifting up a talisman from where it dangled at her belt. "I got a message off before you shot me. You’d better get going, before reinforcements get here."
Ron shook his head. "Hufflepuffs," he said in mild disbelief. "Fair even if it kills you."
"It’s not such a bad way to be."
"This from a dead woman. Come on, Meghan, let’s go."
xXxXx
Danger stepped out of the fireplace and sneezed. And sneezed, and sneezed.
Dammit, the last time I reacted to anything like this was...
"Letha must have begun brewing the potion," said Remus from behind her, and she felt his arms around her, holding her up. "Let’s get you outside until you get acclimated."
"Thanks." Danger shut her eyes and let Remus guide her feet.
When the Pack-adults had been working on their own Animagus transformations, Danger had helped Aletha brew the potion that they all had to drink. It had all gone splendidly for the first eight days, during which time a new ingredient had to be added every day. On the ninth day, the ingredient was powdered wolf claws, and Aletha had no sooner opened the jar than Danger had begun to sneeze. She’d had to leave the room lest she accidentally upset the cauldron. Luckily, her reaction had worn off within about five minutes, but they had been five of the longest and most miserable minutes of her life.
You’ll be all right soon enough, Remus reminded her, guiding her into a seat on the bench on the back patio. It was warm to the touch and not snowy at all, which meant he’d cleared it for her. Just ride it out.
You’re so helpful. Danger knew she should be nicer, but with her eyes watering and her nose stuffed, she really didn’t want to.
I try.
Luckily, Remus was used to her by now.
"Thought someone was setting off firecrackers out here," said a voice from the direction of the house. "But I guess it was just you."
Danger scooped snow off the arm of the bench, packed a snowball, and mentally tapped Remus for permission. In a moment, she was looking out of his eyes. With the odd sense of disorientation that always accompanied such an act, she watched herself aim the snowball and throw. Sirius saw it coming and dodged, of course, but it was the thought that counted.
Besides, his dodge ran him straight into the one Remus had thrown.
"Not fair," Sirius complained, wiping snow out of his eyes. "Two on one."
"You ought to have figured that out by now," said Remus, as Danger returned to her own senses and blew her nose. "When do we ever do anything separately?"
"And don’t answer that," Danger put in, knowing from experience that Sirius would run straight through an opening like that and go places they really didn’t want him.
"First you ask a question, then you say you don’t want it answered." From his tone of voice, Danger could tell Sirius was shaking his head. "I don’t understand you people."
"You don’t have to understand us," said Remus. "You just have to obey us."
"Make me."
There was a scuffle and a rumble akin to a muted roar. "All right, all right," said Sirius breathlessly. "You made me."
Danger’s eyes began to clear just in time for her to see lion-Remus letting Sirius out from under his front paws, having left claw marks in the fabric of Sirius’ jacket as a reminder.
The window behind them opened. Aletha stuck her head out. "Is he making trouble?" she asked. "I can give you a hand if you need one. Though you seem to have things under control," she added as Remus turned to look at her, shaking his mane back.
"Why is it always me?" Sirius asked the world at large.
"Because you invite it," said Danger, blowing her nose again. "If you didn’t make trouble, you wouldn’t get in trouble."
"What fun would that be?"
"Exactly. How’s the potion coming, Letha?"
"Not bad. I’m up to day nine, as I’m sure you’ve already realized."
"No, I had no idea," said Danger, blotting at her eyes. "Let me see. You started about a week ago, end of January, so it should be done by the end of April, beginning of May?"
"About then. I’ll be stopping before it’s quite finished, though. You can store it when it’s one ingredient away from done, you know, but not when it’s completely finished. You either drink it or it goes bad."
"So you’ll be finishing it in small batches, then?"
"Probably. Larger if more than one person is ready for it at a time. But I have a feeling I know who’s going to be ready first."
Remus changed back to human and dusted off his hands. "I think we all knew that," he said with a smile. "Hard work and dedication pay off again."
"Now what kind of thing is that to be teaching the cubs?" complained Sirius. "We were supposed to indoctrinate them into Marauder ways. Quick and dirty, and never mind the consequences. When did we get so... so..."
"Old?"
"That’ll do."
"Right about the time we realized that our parents weren’t quite as mad as we thought they were?" suggested Aletha.
"Speak for yourself," said Sirius, leading the way indoors. "My parents were every bit as mad as I thought they were. Why do you think I ran away?"
"Well, excepting you, we all found out our parents weren’t quite as mad as we thought they were," said Danger. "And I think we’ve taught the cubs plenty of Marauder ways. What other family would be not only sanctioning, but helping, their children learn illegal magics at the age of thirteen?"
"Well, if James had lived..."
xXxXx
"So how did the most recent Combat Club go?" asked Sirius later when they were all sitting around the kitchen table.
"The Slytherpuffs beat the Gryffinclaws pretty soundly," said Remus. "It was hard on the Gryffindors — their first loss — and especially so for Percy Weasley. He was in charge."
Aletha sighed. "Poor boy," she said. "He’s so interested in power, but that’s not the sort of thing he’s good at. He’d make a better diplomat than a war leader."
"You’d have to teach him some tact first," said Sirius. "Good diplomats can make anyone feel comfortable. Percy’s gift seems to be to make everyone feel uncomfortable."
"That’s not nice," scolded Danger, flicking a crumb from her scone at him.
"Unfortunately, it is true," said Remus. "We’re in den here, no reason to mince words. Percy Weasley would probably bow down to anyone or anything in authority, simply because it was in authority, and not bother to look at whether or not what it was saying made any sense, or whether or not it was right."
"In other words, he bears careful watching if what Albus fears ever actually happens," said Aletha darkly. "He could be manipulated the way Ludo Bagman was, used to collect information."
"Or other things." Sirius rubbed at a tea stain on the tablecloth. "There’s always secretaries and interns poking around in the files at the Ministry, looking for things. If you wanted something planted, something incriminating, possibly..."
"I don’t think he’d go along with anything that actually harmed people," said Danger. "He’s not stupid. But he could easily be willfully blind, disbelieve reports because his authorities tell him they’re exaggerated or untrue."
Remus nodded thoughtfully. "In which case, the best cure would be to confront him with something he can’t explain away."
Sirius shook his head, looking disbelieving. "Wait a minute," he said. "When did we start analyzing our neighbors’ children? Don’t we have enough to do with our own?"
"We started," said Aletha quietly, "when we realized that their lives are going to be closely tied to ours. And when we realized that there might be — have been, and probably will be again — threats to our cubs’ lives while they’re still young. It’s our responsibility to know how all the people around us might act in a situation like that, so we know who we can count on for help..."
"And who might be the opposite of helpful," Danger finished, staring at the center of the table.
"We’re quite a cheerful bunch, aren’t we," said Remus, smiling one-sidedly. "Borrowing trouble like it was going out of fashion. Why don’t we talk about something else?"
"What would you suggest?" asked Aletha.
"How are your classes coming?"
"Oh, just fine. Some of the other students keep giving me odd looks, but I don’t know if that’s because I’m so much older or because they’ve heard about the Longbottoms. I do tend to keep to myself, but that’s mostly because I seem to make them nervous if I get too close... although I do get the occasional starry-eyed one who thinks you’re romantic," she said to Sirius. "Did I tell you about the latest one?"
"No." Sirius visibly braced himself. "Go ahead."
"This was a couple of days ago. She plunked herself down at my lunch table — clutching a copy of Happy Ending, no less — and proceeded to tell me that she thought you and I were just like something out of Valentina Jett, and that she wishes she could find a man who would spend years in hiding with no access to the outside world except through her."
Sirius put his head down on the kitchen table with an audible thump. Danger was doubled over in her chair, holding her chest and stomach. Remus was upright only by virtue of clutching the back of his chair. "At least she got one thing right," he said through his laughter. "You two are very much like something out of Valentina Jett."
Sirius lifted his head and glared at his friend. "They say to write what you know. What else was I supposed to do?"
"What I like best is this girl’s apparent delusion that you went into hiding solely because you loved Letha," said Danger, recovering enough to sit up. "Not because of that little thing called a murder charge."
"Well, not that I wouldn’t go into hiding for her," said Sirius, looking at his wife. "But there were other considerations at the time. I’m still amazed she agreed to have anything to do with me, knowing I’d have to be underfoot all the time."
"You did have quite a reputation as a ladies’ man before we started dating, you know..." Aletha grinned. "This way I could be sure of getting you to stay home."
Unfortunately, this set Remus and Danger off again.
xXxXx
Draco carefully sprinkled half an ounce of powdered dragon scale into his cauldron and stirred it three times counterclockwise, then dug into his bag to find the apple leaves he’d need next.
Behind him, there was a scuffling sound and a thud. He turned to see Theodore Nott sprawled on the floor between the two rows of desks, with Blaise Zabini helping him up.
"Is there a problem?" said Snape, sweeping over.
"No, sir," said Zabini quickly. "Nott just slipped, I think the floor is slick here."
Snape pulled out his wand and cast a charm on the patch of floor, then walked away. Draco frowned, feeling a vague unease about this, but dismissed it in favor of shredding the apple leaves fine enough.
xXxXx
"What the hell was that about?" Theodore demanded of Blaise in the Slytherin common room later. "Why’d you stop me?"
"What were you about to do?"
Theodore glared at him and didn’t answer.
"I don’t know why you’re trying to get Black in trouble, Nott, but it stopped being funny about the time half of us got a week of bad luck out of it. Leave off."
"Or what?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "You’re not even going to try to deny it?"
Theodore scowled. "Why should I? You wouldn’t believe me anyway."
"You’re right, I wouldn’t. And I don’t really care why you’re doing it. But like I said, it’s not funny anymore, if it ever was in the first place. So leave him alone, or I’ll make you."
"You’ll make me?"
"Yes, I’ll make you. Remember, we sleep in the same room. And don’t think your fancy expensive locking charms make your things any safer. You still have to sleep in that bed, and there’s no way to lock that up."
"I could take this to Professor Snape, you know. You’re threatening me."
Blaise snorted. "Please. You think these are threats? You haven’t hung around your father’s friends much, have you?"
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Quit playing stupid, Nott. Your father was a Death Eater."
"That’s not true—"
"Don’t bother denying it, we all know it’s true. There’s even some people who might think better of you for it. But if you’re planning on doing what your daddy does, you’d better get used to threats. Real threats, threats towards you, not just your things. Death Eaters like the Unforgivables, from what I hear. And they practice them on each other if they can’t get anyone else. So quit whinging and grow up a little. And leave Black alone."
"Lion-lover," muttered Theodore under his breath as Blaise walked away.
xXxXx
Remus looked at his watch again. Harry was now five minutes late for his Patronus lesson.
Will you please relax? He’s thirteen, he’s not always precisely punctual to everything.
Remus was spared the necessity of coming up with a cutting reply by the opening of the door.
"Sorry we’re late," said Harry, setting his bag down.
"We?"
Draco stepped into the room, looking nervous. "Harry said you wouldn’t mind if I watched, and maybe tried it myself..." He let the sentence trail off.
"I certainly don’t mind if you watch, if Harry doesn’t," said Remus. "You can even give the charm a try. But I don’t think you can try it against the boggart, since yours is different than Harry’s. Unless Harry faces the boggart, and you cast from farther away... if that’s all right with you," he added to Harry. "You’d be the one getting the effects."
Harry swung his arms in warming-up circles. "It hasn’t killed me yet."
"That’s the spirit," said Remus dryly. "All right, wands out."
Draco was able to produce a few wisps of silver mist on a dry run, though not nearly as much as Harry could. Then he backed against the wall to watch Harry practice against the boggart-dementor. Remus was neither surprised nor happy to see both boys pale and sweating when the lamps came back on.
Harry went against the boggart twice more before Remus called a halt. "If you want a go, now’s your chance," he told Draco. "But only one. It’s getting late, and you two have the match against Ravenclaw on Saturday."
"Which is why I need to be able to do this," said Harry unhappily, massaging his wand hand. "And I still can’t, not really — all I get is this big cloud, and it drains me almost as fast as the dementors do..."
"But it’s under your control," Remus reminded him. "And it should hold them off long enough for us to notice and help you, and for you to land so you don’t fall again. Remember, this charm is higher even than N.E.W.T. level. Don’t expect perfection from yourself the first time out."
"No, that’s Hermione’s trick," said Draco. "Think you can stand one more, Harry?"
"If I have to." Harry turned his chair to face the packing case where the boggart lurked. "I think I’ll stay sitting," he said. "Save some time when I pass out."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Draco came to within three paces of Harry’s chair and swung his wand back and forth, his eyes half-shut in concentration.
Remus sighed quietly. Do I know what I’m doing?
Last time I checked.
Thanks. I just wanted to make sure.
Fingers crossed, Remus lifted the lid of the packing case.
The boggart-dementor rose from within, chilling the room and plunging it into darkness —
"Expecto patronum!" shouted Draco, his eyes glinting weirdly silver in the moonlight coming in the windows. "Expecto patronum — expecto patronum!"
The moonlight seemed to gain a third dimension directly in front of Draco — the silvery gas was drifting forward, covering Harry, slumped in his chair — the boggart-dementor’s advance had been halted, but Draco’s breath was already coming faster, his wand arm shaking —
Remus stepped in front of the boggart. This time, Danger’s body was covered in blood. His "Riddikulus" turned the blood into ketchup, and the boggart swooped back into the packing case. "Well done," he said, turning to look at the boys. "Well done, both of you."
Harry grinned in thanks and accepted the bar of chocolate Remus handed him. Draco nodded and waved it away. "Not hungry, thanks," he said.
"Trying to get me in trouble, fox?"
"No..."
"Then eat it, or Danger will be after me for neglecting you." Remus handed the chocolate firmly to Draco. "To the Tower with you both, and get some sleep."
"Yes, sir," said Harry, throwing a salute. Draco saluted with his chocolate bar, and the boys left the classroom.
Remus sat down, closing his eyes. I think these lessons take as much out of me as they do out of Harry, he said wearily, leaning back in the chair. It’s so damned hard to watch him fighting, and not do anything to help...
Because all your fatherly instincts are screaming that he can’t possibly face this alone, but all your professorly ones are telling you that he has to learn and he never will if you keep helping him along, right?
Succinct and direct as usual. How did you know?
The usual way. Having experienced it myself. I want to swoop in and make everything all better for Hermione, but I know if I do I’ll just ruin things. Besides firmly cementing my image as a nosy parker and a matchmaker.
So what did you do?
Gave her advice, told her it won’t last forever. So it had better not.
It won’t. You just wait. Probably around the time they’re sixteen or so, certain people are going to start noticing certain aspects of certain other people...
Sixteen? You do have old-fashioned ideas.
I meant specifically. I suspect other interests will blossom well before then. Possibly starting now, or very soon.
I wouldn’t be surprised.
Would you be surprised if I started noticing certain aspects?
Of whom?
You, of course.
Good answer. No, I wouldn’t be surprised, but I would be rather pleased...
Remus smiled. Also a good answer. I’ll be right up. He got to his feet, picked up the packing case, and extinguished the lamps with a wave of his wand.
He was halfway down the hall when his pendants flared hot. He nearly dropped the case in his hurry, but Danger beat him to it. Draco, she said, her voice suddenly frightened. Remus — if Wormtail could get on the grounds —
Remus clenched his hand around the medallions. It can’t be. He’s in no danger. Just angry, or frightened — maybe he fell, or hurt himself somehow —
Danger was breathing hard, and Remus could feel her heart pounding, or maybe it was his own. But his father doesn’t want him dead...
Remus changed forms and cast around, quickly finding the scent he wanted. I’m on it, he said, picking up speed. Stay with me — if my sense goes out...
I know. They were intensely one — Remus knew Danger could see the dim corridors he ran through and smell the track he followed, and he could feel the weave of the bedspread she was clutching, taste the sour fear in her mouth that she was swallowing against, over and over. It was as one that they began to hear shouting and crashing up ahead. But the shouting was in only one voice, and that a familiar one...
Remus skidded to a halt outside the door of a boys’ bathroom, changed forms, drew his wand, and tried the doorknob. It turned under his hand, and he threw the door open.
Draco whirled, his face a mask of dismay that would have been comic under other circumstances. For instance, were his hands not dripping blood.
"What in the..." Remus forbore further comment, instead stepping in and shutting the door behind him. Something crunched under his shoes. He looked down.
The floor was thickly littered with shards of mirror glass. Only fragments remained in the four frames on the wall over the sinks.
Draco was now leaning against one of the stalls, looking rather dazed. His hands weren’t as bad as they’d looked at first glance, Remus saw as he got closer. Most of the cuts were shallow, bleeding all out of proportion with their size. However, there were one or two that still had the offending shards stuck in them. "Hold still," he said, taking Draco’s wrist.
Draco blinked at him in confusion. "Moony? What — ow!" Remus had just removed one of the largest shards with his wand. "What did—" He stared at his hands, then at the room, looking appalled. "What happened?"
"You don’t remember?"
Draco’s face shut down again. "Not really." He didn’t react as Remus drew the other shards from his cuts, or as the older wizard conjured bandages around his hands. When Remus repaired the mirrors, though, Draco looked into the closest one for a moment. His nostrils flared in distaste, and he turned away.
Not really, in this case, means I don’t want to?
I think so. Mind letting the other cubs know Draco will be a little late getting to bed tonight?
I’ll do that. And then have certain things ready up here?
If you would. "Come with me," said Remus aloud, leading Draco from the room.
"Am I in trouble?"
"No. But you need to get these seen to, so you can play on Saturday."
"I don’t want to play on Saturday."
Remus nodded. "All right. No one will make you. But you still need to get these seen to."
Draco looked as if he might object, but didn’t.
xXxXx
"He tripped and fell on some empty potions vials," Remus told Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. "Cut his hands up. I got the glass out, but I might have missed some."
"No, you got it all," she said, running her wand over Draco’s hands. "I assume you don’t want to stay and be treated, Mr. Black?"
Draco looked surprised to be offered a choice. "Not really," he said, a trifle apologetically.
"No one ever does." Madam Pomfrey went into her office and came back with two bottles of potion. "Here," she said, handing them to Draco. "This one in the short bottle to put on your hands before you go to sleep, and this one in the tall bottle to drink. Don’t get them mixed up. Those cuts should be healed by morning, if they’re not, come back, but they will be. Understand?"
"Yes, ma’am. I think so." Draco had a small smile on his face, but it vanished quickly as he looked at the potion bottles.
"Wait for me outside, please, Draco?" Remus asked. Draco nodded and slipped out. "Thank you, Poppy," he said quietly.
"He’s obviously had a shock, or something similar," Madam Pomfrey said, vanishing the bloodstained bandages Remus had conjured. "And you’re more qualified to deal with that than I am, you and Danger. I assume she’s mixed up in this somehow."
Remus smiled. "When is she ever not?"
"Go on with you, take care of that boy," Madam Pomfrey chided, but she was smiling too.
xXxXx
The living room of the quarters Remus and Danger shared was lit only by a brightly burning fire. Danger sat beside it on a cushion, sipping from a mug of hot pumpkin juice. A plate of spice biscuits she knew were special favorites of Draco’s lay beside two more mugs on a wooden tray.
Draco took a mug and two biscuits and went to sit on the couch, across the room from Danger. Remus sat beside his wife and took his mug from the tray. I notice you draped the mirror, and the curtains are shut.
He seems to be reacting badly to reflective surfaces at the moment. I’d rather not have a repetition of what he pulled in the bathroom.
Good thought.
Thank you. So. Approach him, or let him approach us?
Let him approach us, definitely. Remus was certain of this. It’s just like when he was little. We have to let him make the first move. Give him space, and time, and let him do the talking.
As hard as that may be.
Precisely.
Draco looked into his mug as he might into a crystal ball. Gently, he blew into it, and watched as (Remus assumed) the ripples caused by his breath faded away. His features wrinkled again in distaste and frustration, and he put the mug aside and took a bite of biscuit.
The Lupins waited quietly, doing their best to watch their Pack-son without staring at him, sipping at their drinks and nibbling on biscuits. Finally, Draco broke the silence.
"I hate my face."
"Any particular reason why?" Danger asked quietly.
Draco graced her with a "don’t-be-stupider-than-you-have-to" look. "Why do you think."
"Because you look like your father," said Remus, making it a statement rather than a question.
Draco crushed his other biscuit in his hand. "Yes. Because I look like him. No matter what I do or what I become, he’ll always be with me, haunting me. Because no matter how good I try to be, everyone looks at me and sees a Malfoy. I look at me and see a Malfoy."
Danger took a breath to say something, but Remus stopped her with a mental touch. I don’t think he’s done yet...
"I mean, it isn’t fair!" Draco burst out. "Harry looks like his father, but his father was a hero! Ron looks like his whole family, and they’ve all been Gryffindors for ages and done all kinds of great things! Neville looks like his mum, and she’s a hero too — and Luna like hers, and she was a hero — Neenie looks like you, Danger, and Meghan looks like Letha — I’m the only one. The only one who has to look like an effing pureblood maniac who wants my family dead." He dropped the biscuit crumbs on the floor. "I hate it."
"Obviously," said Danger. "But there are better ways of hating things than punching mirrors." She sat down at the other end of the couch from Draco, who looked at her with a slightly distrustful expression.
"You weren’t supposed to know about that," he said. "I was going to fix it. And I thought I locked the door."
"It seems not," said Remus. "And it was your pendants that gave you away. We can show you how to shut them off temporarily, for times when you really want to be alone."
"I really wanted to be alone in the bathroom."
"If you say so," said Danger blandly. "As I was saying, I agree that most people who look at you will see something of your father in you. But I wouldn’t necessarily agree that that’s always a bad thing."
"It’s not?"
"No. Because of who we are, and what we have to do." Danger took a drink of her pumpkin juice, organizing her thoughts. "We’ll probably end up in another war eventually," she said finally, setting the mug aside. "Voldemort is alive, more or less, and there are two Death Eaters out there right now who might at any time decide to go looking for their master and help him return. Unless I missed a memo somewhere, you’ll be on our side in that war."
Draco nodded fiercely.
"And your father will be on the other side. So you feel that everyone will see him in you, and think you’re somehow tainted or dragged down by him."
"Yeah." Draco tugged at a loose end of bandage.
"Unfortunately, some people may well think like that. We can’t change how others think. What we can change is what they have to think about. And you are changing it, every day, just by being who you are. No one who really knows you will be able to think for a moment that just because you look like your father, you act like him as well."
"It’s not the people who know me I’m worried about," Draco muttered.
"I know. But think about this, Draco. War makes people do terrible things. One of the worst is also one of the easiest. It’s called demonizing the enemy. You know what that is — denying that your enemy is human, turning him into a faceless creature of evil, something that has to be killed before it kills you, not a person with a family and a home and a life. Except that, with you on our side, we’ll have a harder time demonizing Lucius Malfoy, because he looks so much like someone we love. So by looking the way you do, you may be helping to save some of our humanity."
Draco looked at her, then pulled his hands apart several times. It was Marauder hand-sign for A bit of a stretch, that.
"Or you could say that you now have a goal for your life," Remus put in from his place by the fire. "You want to reach the day where you’ve done so much good that people identify your father with you, not you with your father."
Draco snorted. "Like that’ll ever happen."
"It might," said Danger. "Don’t make fun. You never know what tomorrow will bring."
"Stiff hands," said Draco, looking at his bandages. "And probably a lecture from Wood. Do you think I can still play?"
"Do you want to?" asked Remus.
Draco nodded. "I was just mad, earlier," he said. "It didn’t make much sense even to me. Have you ever felt divided, like part of you is arguing with another part?"
Remus laughed. "All the time," he said. "Even before I met the madwoman on the couch."
Danger stuck out her tongue at him.
"I felt that way in the bathroom. Part of me was saying I should be proud of the way I look, and part of me wanted to destroy it, smash it to bits. But I couldn’t very well smash my own face. So I smashed the mirrors instead." Draco looked shamefaced. "I guess it was stupid."
"No permanent harm done, fox," said Danger. "Do try to find something less harmful to destroy next time, though. I find fruit very satisfying, myself. It makes wonderful noises when you throw it hard against the wall."
Draco smiled. "I’ll remember that."
xXxXx
"Gryffindor leads Ravenclaw seventy to thirty, this match could still go either way, ladies and gentlemen — Draco Black of Gryffindor in possession, passes to Alicia Spinnet, who passes back to Black, who passes back to Spinnet — classic tactics here, confuse the opposite Chasers — and they have indeed been confused! Black’s away with the Quaffle — some fine acceleration there, though not nearly as much as Harry Potter’s top-of-the-line Firebolt—"
"Jordan!"
"Sorry, Professor. Black ducks a Bludger, dodges the Ravenclaw Keeper, and SCORES! EIGHTY-THIRTY GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry zoomed down to high-five Draco before returning to his station high above.
"Harry Potter is widely considered one of the best Seekers Hogwarts has seen in years — well-matched with his new Firebolt, the best broom on the market today, choice of the Irish national side, favorites for this year’s upcoming Quidditch World Cup—"
"JORDAN! PAY ATTENTION TO THE MATCH!"
"Yes, Professor — oh, look at that — Chang may have skills, but that Comet Two Sixty she’s riding just isn’t up to the standards of the—"
The microphone went dead.
High above, Harry agreed with Lee Jordan. Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, did indeed have skills, and not just in flying. He would have loved to know how and why she was making his stomach do slow flips every time he looked at her. Was it because she was so pretty? But no — he knew girls as pretty as Cho, Hermione and Meghan were at least that pretty —
No, they aren’t, said a part of him. No one’s as pretty as Cho.
But how can I be sure? There are lots of girls —
No one is as pretty as Cho, insisted that inner voice. No one ever will be —
"Harry, look out!"
Harry did a roll in midair as a Bludger whooshed through the space where his head had been, followed quickly by George Weasley. "Pay attention to the match, mate!" he bellowed, slamming the Bludger towards a Ravenclaw Chaser.
Right. The match. Harry shook his head and looked around the pitch — Ravenclaw had the Quaffle, but George’s Bludger was about to change that — Cho was at the other end of the pitch, flying slowly around the Ravenclaw goal posts —
And there, near the bottom of one of the posts, Harry saw a glimmer of gold. He gulped. Cho was much closer to it — he’d have to lure her away, then go after it —
He dived, eliciting screams from the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of blue and black behind and to one side of him — Cho had been watching him, she thought he saw the Snitch — which he did, just not the way he was going —
He pulled up sharply, leaving her behind, and spun the Firebolt end-for-end, flying back up the field towards the Ravenclaw goals — Cho was below him, but the Snitch had flown higher since he’d seen it last — if he kept going, he would get there first — but he had to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t try any tricks —
Suddenly, Cho screamed. Harry looked down and saw, far below her, three tall, hooded figures, all in black, draperies billowing around them —
He snatched his wand out of his robes, pointed it at them, and bellowed "Expecto patronum!" A silvery shape shot from the end of his wand, but he didn’t have time to see what it was — he was almost to the Snitch, and for a miracle, there was no screaming in his mind, no freezing cold or darkness encroaching on his senses —
His hand closed over the Snitch, and the crowd went crazy.
xXxXx
"I did it!" Harry shouted over the crowd as Remus approached him. "I really did it!"
"So you did," Remus agreed, hugging the boy briefly. "Well done." He won’t like this. "But I’m afraid I have a confession to make, Harry. Those weren’t dementors you saw."
Harry frowned. "What?"
"I thought you might do well with a field test of your Patronus. So Sirius and I worked out a spell that would cast a likeness of dementors onto the field. Your Patronus charged down our illusionary dementors quite beautifully, I must say."
Harry’s expression had gone from confused to shocked to sullenly fuming. "I’ll get you for this," he muttered.
Remus raised an eyebrow. "And my little dog, too?"
Harry laughed aloud. "Yes, him too."
"Come on, Harry!" called Ron from the middle of the crowd. "Party with our names on it!"
"Go have a good time," said Remus, waving Harry away. "You deserve it. Gryffindor’s back in the running."
"But I will get you for this!" Harry shouted back as he fought his way through the crowd to Ron and Draco, still in his red robes. Remus lifted his hands — of course you will — and gave Draco a thumbs-up as he did. Draco returned it with a warm smile, and the red-and-gold-clad mob moved off towards the castle.
He did take that well.
He’s on a high from winning the match. Wait until tomorrow.
I don’t think I want to. Remind me to double-lock the door tonight.
"You didn’t tell him," said Aletha as Remus returned to the stands.
"Didn’t tell him what?"
"About his Patronus."
Remus shrugged. "Should I have?"
"He probably wants to know," said Sirius. "I would."
"I’ll let him do a clean casting at our next lesson so he can see it, then," said Remus. "Will that satisfy your royal highnesses?"
"Ooh, touchy," said Sirius. "And it’s not even close to that time of the month."
"He was up late correcting papers," said Danger. "Don’t get too close, he bites."
"Only those I love." Remus leaned over and set his mouth gently around Danger’s shoulder.
Aletha shook her head resignedly. "Just when I think someone else in this Pack besides me is finally starting to grow up..."