Dealing with Danger
Chapter 17: Global Concerns (Year 3)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 17: Global Concerns
"Dad, I think our house needs a name."
Gerald Lovegood looked up from the storyboard for the May issue of The Quibbler. "Do you, now? What brought this on?"
"The Pack has the Den, and the Weasleys have the Burrow." Luna perched on the arm of a chair. "And now the Longbottoms have Fireflower House." Neville never seemed to tire of welcoming his friends to his home. A smile was getting to be a permanent part of his expression. "I think we ought to have a name for our house too."
"Well, what would you suggest, sweetheart?"
"It ought to be something special. Something that shows what kind of people we are. Do you remember how Mum used to laugh when you said you were ready in case people from outer space ever came to visit us?"
Gerald smiled reminiscently. "She laughed, yes, but she helped me get ready too. But maybe that was just because she loved me... I never could figure it out."
"Would you still be ready now?"
"I’d need someone else to help me set out the signs and the landing lights. Even with magic, it’s a two-person job. But yes, as long as I had help, I could be ready within an hour or two." He looked over at his daughter. "Why do you ask?"
"You want them to come land here, don’t you?"
"Very much." Gerald nodded firmly. "It would validate several theories of mine."
"I’d like it too. And when I become an Animagus and learn to fly, I’ll need a place to land."
"You know you can always land here, darling. Even when you’re all grown up and married to Draco."
Luna giggled. "I thought we could call our house the Landing Zone."
"What a wonderful idea! The Landing Zone... why didn’t I ever think of that?" Gerald beamed. "I’ll get the forms from the Ministry first thing tomorrow. Thank you, love."
"You’re welcome." Luna hugged her father. "Daddy, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do boys always act strangely when they’re thirteen?"
"Always. Why?"
"Draco’s been odd ever since Christmas. It comes and goes, but it’s always there at least a little. He looks... darker than usual. Like I was seeing him through sunglasses. Sometimes he’s just a little dark, but sometimes I can barely even see him."
"Oh, sweetheart." Gerald sighed. "Yes, boys often feel a little dark at this age, and Draco’s likely to feel it more than most, with his past, and what’s been happening recently. I’d imagine he feels overshadowed by his father. That’s probably what you’re seeing — you know you see things that other people don’t, or only see with magic."
Luna nodded. "There’s a funny kind of aura all around Mr. Moony and Mrs. Danger," she said. "Shaped like their Animagus forms. Mr. Padfoot and Mrs. Letha, too, and Professor McGonagall. Do you think we’ll get that when we become Animagi?"
"I wouldn’t wonder." Gerald regarded his daughter tenderly. "Luna, love, does it ever get tiresome to see all these things? Because if you don’t like it, we’ll try to find a way to make it stop, as soon as we can. I don’t want you burdened."
"No, I don’t mind it. I rather like it."
"All right, then, no more need be said. Now why don’t we see about some lunch?"
xXxXx
Draco sat under a tree in the Weasleys’ orchard, listening with half an ear to the yells and cheers of the game of pick-up Quidditch in progress. Normally, he would have been in there playing, but he just didn’t feel like it today.
I haven’t felt like flying for a while. I know I won’t play the final match, so it doesn’t matter so much if I’m in training or not. I still go to practice, but I spend most of the time on the bench. Suits me fine.
He picked up a nearby rock and rolled it between his palms. Idly, he imagined it growing, becoming larger and heavier, smoother and glossier, with deeply engraved lines which held messages and stories, if he only knew how to read them...
Suddenly dissatisfied with everything around him, he hurled the rock away and watched it bounce off a tree several yards from him.
What am I even doing out here? I have work to do. I’d better get back to it.
He stood up to head back to the Den.
Den. Stupid name, really. Makes it sound like a hole in the ground. Not quite as stupid as the Burrow, though...
"Oh, Draco," said a voice above him. He looked up. Fred was lying full-length on his broom a few feet over his head. "Knut for your thoughts."
Draco glared at him. "Bugger off."
"That’s polite," said George, swooping around the nearest tree and pulling up expertly. "It was a perfectly civil question."
"Yeah, well, I don’t answer questions from weasels, no matter how polite they are."
"You don’t answer questions from what?" said Fred, sitting up in indignation.
"Weasels. That’s all you are, both of you. Short, thick, freckly weasels." Draco was a little surprised by the venom behind the words, but it was obscurely satisfying to watch the identical faces go through the process of shock, offense, and determination.
Wait a second. Determination?
"You know, I think you need to learn some manners," said George from his broom, dropping to the ground.
"And I think I know how we can teach you those manners," said Fred, doing likewise on Draco’s other side.
"See, it takes one to know one."
"Or one to know two, in this case."
"So if we’re weasels, you know what that makes you?"
"I know what it makes him." Fred grinned. "After you, George."
"No, after you, Fred."
"If you insist."
Draco realized, belatedly, that he really should have got his wand out while they were talking. He grabbed for it now, but it was too late.
The world spun, shrank, and went a funny color, and for a second or two, he itched like crazy. He’d felt similar to this before — in the basement of the Den, when he’d been ten years old...
Oh, hell.
He wasn’t a fox, he knew that much. His shape was all wrong. He was long and lithe, with short legs and a thick tail. He twitched his nose, and saw it move. His face must be awfully long and pointed for that to happen.
"So now what do we do with him?" said one of the twins over his head.
"Don’t know. We’ll think of something, I’m sure."
The ground rumbled under Draco’s feet. He squeaked in alarm, then realized it was just people coming. Lots of people.
"What’s this?" said Ron’s voice, and Draco turned to see the red-haired giant pointing down at him.
Grand. Not only did they turn me into something, but now the entire Pride’s here to see it. His only comfort was that Luna wasn’t there — and it’s not exactly a comfort, because she might have been able to see through this and shame the twins into turning me back...
Draco tried to run, but Fred Summoned him. "Nothing," he said with what was probably a winning smile from the human point of view, but looked positively demonic to Draco.
"Looks like a white ferret," said Harry.
"It is a white ferret," said George.
"Then why did you say it was nothing?" asked Ginny.
"We meant, nothing important," said Fred patronizingly. Draco writhed in his hand, trying to get away, then had a brainstorm. Squirming to get himself into the proper position, he bit down hard.
"OWW!"
Fred dropped him, and Draco took off running again, only to be Summoned by George this time. He was ready to repeat his performance, but George seemed to have learned from his twin’s mistake and held him at wandpoint, dangling in midair, legs and tail flopping about. "That was very naughty of you," he said. "I think we need to teach you a lesson."
Draco was irresistibly reminded of his dream over Christmas as George bounced him up and down. Didn’t I just leave this party? To add to his misery, the Pride was laughing and clapping. They obviously had no idea who he was. And I think I’d rather have it that way...
Meghan used a wanded healing spell on Fred’s hand once she’d cleaned the bite out, and the twins led a procession back to the Burrow, tossing Draco between them with their wands. Three-quarters of the way there, Harry said, "Where’s Draco got to?"
"Oh, he’s around," said George. "Somewhere."
"We saw him back at the orchard," added Fred.
"All right."
And you call yourself my brother.
But Draco refused to try to attract attention — this was humiliating enough without begging for help. If he could just get away from the twins, he could get home and make himself understood to one of the Pack-parents, get turned back, and this would all be over with.
He’d reckoned without Mr. Weasley. The twins’ father was tinkering with a toaster in the front yard of the Burrow, and looked up as the procession approached. "Hi, Dad," chorused Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny, with the rest of the group chiming in, "Hi, Mr. Weasley."
"Hello, all. Fred, George, just a moment. What’s that you’ve got?"
"Ferret," said Fred.
"I can see that. Where did you find it?"
"Orchard," said George.
"And was it a ferret when you found it?"
The twins glanced at each other, looking suddenly nervous.
"That’s what I thought." Mr. Weasley pointed his wand at Draco.
This is going to be awkward. Draco managed, at the last second, to get his feet under him and land more or less upright, dropping to one knee, but he knew he still looked a right idiot, with his hair all over the place, his clothes in disarray, and his face probably bright red by now.
I just need something good to say. Something really cutting, something even the twins can’t miss.
And then, suddenly, he had it. It wouldn’t be so much what he said, but the way he said it. Style was everything.
He stood up and brushed himself off. "Mr. Weasley," he said in his politest tone. "May I please kill your sons?"
Mr. Weasley looked consideringly at the twins. "Well," he said slowly, "since we seem to have a spare..."
The twins exchanged panicked looks and took off running. The Pride burst into laughter.
"No," finished Mr. Weasley, smiling. "But if you’d care to get them back for this, I can’t say I’d mind."
"Thank you. I’ll do that." Draco felt a brief flare of triumph, but it was quickly drowned by a flood of humiliation. The Pride’s laughter was dying down, replaced by uncomfortable looks and shuffling feet.
I can’t believe they saw that. All of them. And they laughed... they thought it was funny...
"I’m really sorry, Draco," said Hermione earnestly. "We didn’t know it was you."
Draco forced a smile. "It’s all right. You couldn’t know."
"We shouldn’t’ve laughed," said Harry. "It wouldn’t even be funny if it was an animal, because then it would just be mean. We’ll help you get back at them if you want."
The smile felt stiff on his face. "Thanks. I might take you up on that." The words came out woodenly, as if he’d never met these people before and didn’t know them. "Actually, I was just heading home. A lot of work to do." He suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of walking back to the Den with everyone’s eyes on him. "Mr. Weasley, can I use your Floo?"
"Of course. You know where it is." Mr. Weasley was looking at him with concern in his face. "Are you all right, Draco? Not hurt anywhere?"
Nowhere but my pride. "I’m fine, sir. Thank you." Quickly, Draco ducked inside. Mrs. Weasley turned to him, smiling, but stopped, looking surprised, when she saw him. He didn’t bother to wonder why, just taking advantage of her silence to cross the room, take some Floo powder from the flowerpot, and toss it into the fire. "The Marauders’ Den!"
The music room was deserted, as was the kitchen, the front hall, and the stairway. He made it all the way up to the boys’ bedroom without a single person seeing him, and shut the door firmly behind him before throwing himself down on his bed, seething, burrowing his head into his pillow.
I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. It was an easy mantra to chant silently, over and over, working itself into the rhythm of his heartbeat and his breathing. He sat up, lifted the globe from where it rested on the nightstand, and stared into it. His eyes drifted half-shut as he felt his pulse throbbing against the glass, inside his hands.
I have to get them back. Really get them back, no silly playing around. I’ll make them pay for this.
What’s something they care about a lot? Something I could get at, mess up, destroy even?
One possibility came immediately to mind. The twins had talked for years about having their own joke shop someday, developing their own line of trick sweets and prank-related items. Their work was probably the source of most of the explosions heard in the Burrow on a daily basis when they were home, and the ones in Gryffindor Tower when they were at school.
What if I could find their notes? All the information they’ve collected, on everything they’ve ever done? Bet they’d make a lovely bonfire. He grinned, fingers tracing the familiar lines of the runes. I’ll get Ron and Ginny to work out what they’ve done to their room, Hermione to research how to get around it, and Harry to help me with the actual work. And then I can laugh at them when everything they’ve worked for goes up in flames...
Vaguely, he heard the Floo go off downstairs.
They’ll be sorry then. They’ll be really sorry. But it’ll be too late. I’ll stand beside that fire, I’ll look them in the eye, and I’ll tell them, this is why you don’t ever mess with a...
Someone knocked on his door.
His concentration broken, Draco hastily set the globe aside. "Come in!"
Luna opened the door. "You’re angry," she said, looking at him. "I’ll come back later."
"No, don’t go," said Draco, standing up hastily. "Did you want something?"
"Just to see you. What happened?"
"Nothing."
"It doesn’t look like nothing. The shadow is very dark."
"What?"
"You have a shadow all around you," Luna elaborated. "It gets lighter and darker depending on your mood. And it’s very, very dark right now. I can hardly see the real you inside it."
Something in her matter-of-fact tone pierced Draco’s mood. His anger drained away.
What was I thinking? They embarrassed me, but that was all. They didn’t hurt me, they didn’t take anything from me, and they didn’t do it to be mean. They did it for fun. Hell, if I’d been in a better mood, I might have thought it was fun.
Burning their notes would be a major overreaction. Not to mention the trouble I’d be in for destroying other people’s things. That was out of line.
"It’s much lighter now," Luna remarked. "You look almost normal."
Draco smiled. "I feel a lot better too," he said. "I think I need to do something different. Would you like to play together?"
"Yes, very much. Thank you."
"No, thank you." Draco crossed the room and offered Luna his arm. "My lady."
She took it with her sweet smile, and they descended the stairs together, headed for the music room.
xXxXx
"Moony, can I talk to you?"
"Of course, Harry. What’s on your mind?"
"The prophecy you told me last summer," said Harry. "Who made it?"
It wasn’t quite the last thing Remus had expected, but it was fairly low on the list. He set aside his quill and turned to face Harry. "Why do you ask?"
"I... just want to know."
"As do I."
Harry looked out the window. "Ron heard Professor Trelawney say something that might have been a real prophecy," he said. "And Hermione went back to old school records and found out she was hired right before I was born. Was it because she made that prophecy, and Dumbledore wanted to keep her safe?"
Remus made a mental sound of amazement and exasperation. It’s official. They’re too smart for their own good.
What, you didn’t know that?
I knew. I was just in denial. "Yes."
Harry sighed, as if hearing news that was expected but still bad. "Hermione will be happy," he said. "She was convinced she was right. Ron was convinced she was bonkers."
"So Ron won’t be happy."
Harry shrugged. "Can’t have everything." He took a scroll out of his pocket. "Hermione wrote it down for us."
"How, if she didn’t hear it?"
"She heard it."
"You said Ron heard it."
Harry explained about traveling into Ron’s memory. Remus vacillated for a moment between being proud and being stern, and went with the former. "But in the future, it might be a good idea to do untested magic somewhere safe," he said.
"We were safe," Harry protested. "We were..." He stopped.
"Yes?"
"Somewhere safe," Harry finished lamely.
"Somewhere safe. You’re sure."
"We’re sure. The Map said so."
"The Map said so? Harry, we made the Map. There’s no place on there that we don’t know about. Where is it?"
"I think this is one. Wait here." Harry took off running before Remus could say anything, and returned in under a minute, panting and flushed, with the Map. "Watch," he said, handing it to Remus and activating it. "Map, what happens if I say..." He leaned in and whispered something to the Map. "...to the wall near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room?"
A hole opens in the wall, exposing a stone chute, the Map printed. This chute leads to an area of the school that has been forgotten for centuries, until you and your friends, Harry Potter, rediscovered it in your first year.
"Oh, so you’ve been using it since your first year," said Remus.
"Traitor," Harry muttered under his breath. "Is it safe for us to go there?" he added in a normal tone.
Perfectly safe. And I am no traitor. I merely respond to the wishes of the person or people holding me.
Remus smiled. "Did your creators know about this area of the school?" he asked, just in case James or Sirius, or Peter, had been holding out on him.
They did not.
"Then how do you know about it?"
One of my creators was a blood Heir of one of the Founders of the school. Through him, I have access to knowledge about the school that he did not, on his own, possess.
For one second, the world seemed to slow. Remus could see and feel everything around him with perfect clarity — the sunlight coming in through the window, the breeze on his skin, the parchment in his hands — but only one thought occupied his mind.
One of the Map’s creators.
One of us.
"One of you was an Heir?" said Harry in awed tones as time resumed its normal flow. "Why didn’t you ever tell us?"
"Harry, we didn’t know. Not until just now." Remus shook his head, staring out the window. "Go put the Map away. Turn it off first."
Sirius, was his first thought. It has to be Sirius, as the Heir of Ravenclaw. That would account for Meghan’s talent.
But what if it’s not? What if it was James? If it was — that means —
Harry poked his head back into the room. "Should I tell the others about this?"
"No," said Remus emphatically, making up his mind. "Absolutely not. We don’t know nearly enough, and this will only lead to wild speculation. Let it be our secret for now, until we learn more. All right?"
"Fine by me." Harry’s head withdrew.
Remus put his head down on his desk, then picked it up again as he felt ink adhere to his forehead.
Everything was going so well... why do we have to have complications now?
Because he had a horrible suspicion he knew which of the Marauders had been an Heir, and which Founder he’d been Heir to.
James.
James would have made a perfect Heir of Gryffindor. He was Gryffindor House personified — all the strengths, all the weaknesses — hell, when we go upstairs for the boys’ birthdays, Paul Gryffindor even acts like James used to. It has to have been James.
And Gryffindor said that his current Heir had his powers bound as a baby by his father, but that his father was dead now, so there was no one to take the bindings off...
He stared out the window.
So we’re raising the Heir of Ravenclaw, friends with the Heirs of Hufflepuff, and now it’s possible we also have the Heir of Gryffindor here.
Why don’t we just move into the castle and be done with it?
Sirius walked into the room, humming, and stopped, staring at him. "Is there a reason you wrote your name backwards on your forehead?"
xXxXx
"Are you telling me it’s going to be done before they go back to school?" asked Danger, watching Aletha measure out the potion into eight parts and put seven of them into storage vials.
"It should be."
"But I thought it wouldn’t be finished until the end of this month!"
Aletha grinned. "Don’t tell the boys, but I asked Severus Snape for some tips."
"Ah. And he didn’t wonder why you were making this particular potion?"
"He gave me that sour look he’s so good at, but he didn’t actually say anything. I have a feeling he knows, but he has no proof, so he won’t be telling anyone."
"Not to mention, he’d have to admit helping you to account for how he knew, and that would implicate him in it as well." Danger peered into the cauldron. "So what did he tell you?"
"Well, it seems shredding the yarrow leaves crosswise instead of lengthwise speeds it up by a few days. So does boiling the carrot flowers in water spiked with ground mica. But the real timesaver in this case was the powdered dragon’s teeth."
"That sounds rare."
"Not terribly, but it is fairly expensive. Luckily, you only need a pinch. It brings liquids to the boil faster, and lets them boil hotter, so they finish their required boiling time about ten percent faster. It doesn’t sound like much, but when you have a potion that has to be boiled for most of its twelve-week brewing period..."
Danger shook her head. "I’d never be able to do the maths right."
"They include a conversion chart for all the usual boiling times," said Aletha, nodding her head towards her workbench. "The only drawback is that once or twice, because of the time cutback, I’ve had to get up in the middle of the night to tend to it."
Danger laughed. "Always something, isn’t it?"
"Always. But in this case, it’s a fine something. If Hermione’s not an Animagus by the end of the year, I’ll eat my cauldron."
xXxXx
The potion was boiling furiously as Hermione stirred it, cautiously, counting seconds under her breath between each stir. "Any minute now," murmured Aletha comfortingly, checking the clock in the corner. "Any minute..."
The liquid in the cauldron turned clear.
"That’s it!" Hermione jumped out of the way as Aletha quickly doused the fire and drew the potion into a goblet with her wand. "Now we’ll just let it cool..."
Hermione danced up and down with excitement. "Can’t you cool it with a spell?" she begged.
"I don’t want to risk ruining it. This is tricky stuff — too much other magic applied to it, and it turns useless. Don’t fuss, Neenie, you have ten minutes, and there’s nothing going on..."
The Floo chimed.
"Let’s see who that is." Aletha led Hermione into the music room and stopped dead.
Minerva McGonagall had just climbed out of their fire.
Of all the people to come visiting right this very minute. She’s an Animagus herself, she knows what this potion smells like, and she also knows that all the adults in this house are already Animagi...
"Hello, Aletha, is Sirius around?"
"He’s upstairs. Hermione, will you run and get him?"
"Of course. Hello, Professor."
"Miss Granger-Lupin." Minerva nodded to the girl distractedly.
"Can I take your cloak?" asked Aletha.
"Oh, yes, certainly." Minerva shrugged out of the garment, and Aletha noticed as she hung it on one of the hooks on the mantel that the older witch was clutching a book.
It’s Sirius’ latest — is she here about that? She must be...
"Hermione said someone’s here to see me..." Sirius trailed off as he saw who it was. "Hello, Minerva."
She faced him squarely. "Sirius, don’t lie to me. Is or is not Athena McElheny in this book meant for me?"
"Well, I wouldn’t say she’s meant for you," Sirius temporized. "She’s... a lot like you, she does things the way you would, I suppose you could even say she’s based on you... yeah, she’s meant for you," he confessed finally, looking very much like a naughty boy in front of his Head of House.
"That’s what I thought." Minerva set her book aside, moved forward until she was directly in front of Sirius —
And stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.
"Thank you," she said, her voice suspiciously choky. "It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me..."
Sirius seemed to be unsure whether to look amazed or appalled. "You’re... welcome?" he faltered, staring at her. "I mean... you’re welcome, Professor. Minerva. I mean... oh, never mind." He shook his head, grinning. "You’re welcome. I always thought you’d make a good heroine if you just had the chance."
"A good heroine? Is that what you call her? Threatening people with Muggle metal wands, sneaking around listening at doors, piecing things together and nearly getting herself killed — is that how you see me?" Minerva had obviously recovered fully from her momentary lapse.
"Well, I’ve never seen you do any of that," Sirius admitted. "But I’m sure you would. If you had to. You are Head of Gryffindor House."
"Indeed I am, and I hope I have more sense than to do foolish things like that. Prancing around in the dead of night to rescue people. Really. As if I didn’t have more than enough to do." But Minerva was smiling as she picked up her book and cloak, Aletha noticed.
She started to step back into the fire, then paused, sniffing the air. Aletha gritted her teeth. Damn it, she noticed...
Minerva turned to face Aletha. "Do I want to know?" she asked.
"No," said Aletha quickly. "No, you don’t."
"Then I won’t ask." But she was still smiling, and her eyes darted quickly to Hermione before assuming a questioning look.
Aletha gave a fraction of a nod.
Minerva’s smile broadened. Then she looked perplexed for a moment, as if trying to decide how to put something.
"Hermione’s a lot like you, Minerva," said Sirius casually. "Getting more so every day."
Minerva’s eyes brightened. "I see. I’m very proud of her, of course, in class. She’s one of my best students."
"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione politely, but her eyes kept wandering to the door of Aletha’s workroom.
"Whatever you have in there that’s so interesting, go and do it," said Minerva briskly. "I won’t keep you any longer. I just had to ask — thank you again, Sirius — and good luck."
Aletha breathed a sigh of relief as the green flames died down in the fireplace.
"She knows," said Hermione in awe. "And she’s not going to get us in trouble for it."
Sirius laughed. "She admires your courage for trying it," he said. "She told me so herself, when she found out what James and Wormtail and I had done."
Aletha looked at him in amusement. "Was this before or after the reading of the riot act?"
"After."
"Thought so."
"Can I please go drink it now?" asked Hermione with carefully obvious patience.
"Yes, I think it should be cool enough. Let’s go see."
"Hang on, I’ll get Moony and Danger down here," said Sirius, hurrying out of the room.
"That’s a good idea," said Aletha, retrieving the potion-filled goblet from the workroom. "Do you want Meghan and the boys here as well?"
Hermione looked torn, but nodded.
"I’ll get them." Aletha set the potion carefully on a table, drew her wand, and thought hard about seeing Frank and Alice again, then mentally spoke the incantation. A silver dog leapt from the end of her wand, and she directed it with a quick thought to fetch her daughter and Pack-sons.
Surrounded by her Pack and well within the ten-minute limit, Hermione Granger-Lupin became the first of her Pride to drink the potion that would make her an Animagus. She downed it in three long swallows, then made a face. "That’s awful. Like... like vinegar, but greasy. And salty, too."
"You only have to drink it once," said Remus, conjuring a cup of water for her.
"Yeah, but the taste lasts for days," muttered Sirius.
"You’re so encouraging," said Danger.
"Too late for her to back out now, isn’t it?"
"Not for us," said Harry. "Not that I would, but it’s tempting."
"I’m thinking about it," muttered Draco.
"No way," said Meghan firmly. "I’m doing it."
"So you are," said Remus. "You’re holding your own, too. Minerva should have no complaints about your performance in her class when you start school next year."
"It’s hard to remember she hasn’t already started," said Aletha, leaning over to hug Meghan. "With you being gone all the time, Pearl, I tend to forget you’re not the same age as these other three."
"Could I be?" asked Meghan, obviously seizing the moment. "It would just be an Aging Potion, that’s easy to make, and it wouldn’t be a whole lot for just three years — and then I could take it back off once I started getting old, a little at a time..."
"No," said all four Pack-parents at the same time. Meghan pouted as the other cubs laughed.
"There are some things even we won’t let you do," said Sirius, making a face back at Meghan. "Contrary to popular opinion."
"No fair."
"Yes fair. I’m your father, and I say it’s fair, therefore it is. End of argument."
Meghan tilted her head to one side. "You look funny sitting on a slant like that," she remarked. "Why don’t you slide down the floor?"
"I don’t know. Why don’t you?" Sirius drew his wand and hit Meghan with a quick Tickling Charm, making her squeal and giggle madly. Within a few seconds, a full-fledged spell fight was going in the music room, making Aletha very glad all the furnishings had been chosen for comfort and ease of cleaning.
This is what life should be like, she thought comfortably, ducking Danger’s Twitchy Ears Hex and firing back a Nose-Hair Ringlets Jinx. This is my idea of heaven.
xXxXx
Draco lingered a bit after Care of Magical Creatures on the Monday that started term. "I was just hoping to say hi to Buckbeak," he told Hagrid.
Hagrid beamed, setting aside a bucket of frozen Ashwinder eggs. "Yer gettin’ ter be great friends with him, aren’ yeh? All the rest of his herd headed back ter the Forest weeks ago, but he’s still hangin’ around. I’d bet that’s because yeh tol’ him yeh’d be back ter see him."
"Or maybe it’s just because you feed him," Draco retorted with a grin. "I think he’s lazy. But I wouldn’t say that to his face. I do like him."
"An’ he likes yeh back. I kin tell. Come on, then, he’s out behin’ the house..."
After the exchange of bows, Draco sat on the paddock wall and stroked Buckbeak’s feathers for a while, until the hippogriff got bored and started rooting around for worms. "I like you, Buckbeak," he said quietly. "You’re nice to be around. You don’t want anything from me. Except a little politeness and some scratching, and I can do that."
Buckbeak turned to look at Draco, then went back to digging. Draco rolled a small rock between his palms, watching the great creature burrow. "Do you ever get tired of trying to be what people want you to be, Buckbeak? Do you ever feel like saying, ‘Well, it’s been fun, but now it’s time for me to do my own thing, so long, everyone’?"
Buckbeak pulled up a worm and gulped it down. Draco smiled slightly. "No, I suppose you don’t. It must be nice to be an animal. No worries, no responsibilities. Just find food and don’t get eaten yourself, and do whatever you want for the rest of the time. No one to fuss over you or try to make you do things. And you’re even luckier, because Hagrid takes care of you, and all you have to do in return is behave yourself for some of the classes." He sighed. "I could almost wish I was you."
Buckbeak looked over at Draco, then trotted up to him and took some of Draco’s hair in his beak, drawing it away. He did this several times, then laid his head gently against Draco’s shoulder.
"I think he likes you," said a quiet voice behind Draco.
He jumped, as did Buckbeak. "Hermione! You scared me!"
"Sorry. Just coming to see where you got to. Hi, Buckbeak." Hermione bowed, and the hippogriff made a grumbling noise in his throat but bowed back. "Are you all right?" she asked Draco.
"Fine. Just fine. Why wouldn’t I be?"
"You’ve been a bit standoffish lately. Are you still mad at the twins for the ferret thing?"
"No, not really." Draco smiled reminiscently. "That was brilliant, what Harry thought up to get them back. I didn’t even know you could do that. Did you find that spell?"
She nodded. "It was a good thing Moony was willing to help us, though. We’d never have been able to do it on our own."
"Probably not. But it was pretty funny, watching them walk around stuck to each other. Joined at the hip. And when they tried to get it off..."
Hermione grinned. "I loved when George made it so they were stuck front to front instead of side to side. But the best was when Fred tried, and the spell he used unstuck them but turned them both into Siamese cats."
"And then they fought." Draco punched at the air in front of him. "And you could just tell from the way they were yowling at each other that if they’d been able to talk, they would have been saying something like, ‘This is all your fault!’ ‘No, it isn’t, it’s your fault!’"
They were both laughing now. Draco caught his breath once they’d finished. "Thanks," he said.
"What else are sisters for?" Hermione smiled at him. "Do you remember how we used to twin-talk?"
"Used to? We still do it."
"Not for a while. I wonder why."
Draco shrugged. "I hadn’t noticed we’d stopped, so I don’t think it’s me."
"Maybe it’s me, then. Or maybe it’s just something we outgrew."
"Could be." Draco hoisted his schoolbag. "See you later, Buckbeak."
The hippogriff fanned his wings in farewell.
xXxXx
The Quidditch final was exciting, noisy, and exceedingly dirty. Slytherin was determined to make Gryffindor lose at any cost, and Gryffindor was determined to win at almost any cost. This led to some interesting fouls on both sides, and some plays that weren’t quite fouls but came close.
Harry’s flying between Slytherin Beaters Derrick and Dursley and causing them to collide led to much cheering on the non-Slytherin side of the stadium, but he hadn’t done anything to them, so it wasn’t illegal. Meanwhile, Fred and George were able to monopolize the Bludgers and pick off the Slytherin Keeper, allowing Gryffindor to score twice.
Gryffindor had to be sixty points or more ahead before Harry caught the Snitch, or they’d win the match but lose the championship. Wood had been hammering that point home to the entire team for weeks. Harry sometimes heard "You must not catch the Snitch before we’re more than fifty points up!" in Wood’s anguished voice in his sleep.
The current score was fifty-ten, and Harry had seen the Snitch once but been fouled by Marcus Flint, the super-seventh-year Slytherin Captain, and lost sight of it. It was just as well, he thought, glancing over his shoulder at his opposite number, Terence Higgs. He’d find it again at some point, and even if the older boy saw it first, with his Firebolt and superior flying skills Harry could fly rings around Higgs and force him off track.
A burst of cheering made him whip around — Alicia had just scored again. Sixty-ten. One more goal and the Snitch, and the Cup would be theirs.
"Come on," Harry whispered, watching Slytherin Chaser Warrington speed down the pitch with the Quaffle. "Come on, drop it..."
An idea occurred to him. He aimed the Firebolt ever so carefully and dived. Katie Bell, far below him, screamed, as did much of the crowd. He was gathering speed, faster and faster he went —
He pulled up sharply and looped Warrington, startling the Slytherin into a yelp and making him drop the Quaffle. As he’d hoped, the Gryffindor Chasers had realized what he was up to, and were hovering just below. Angelina snatched the Quaffle and pelted off up the field with it, tossing it back and forth to Alicia in the move that had so successfully baffled Ravenclaw’s Chasers at the last match — but Montague and Flint were coming up fast, one of them for each girl —
And Katie flew out of nowhere, intercepting the Quaffle in mid-pass, and took off with it, momentarily unopposed —
Something hit Harry in the head. He thought for a confused second it was a Bludger, then realized that although Dursley was flying nearby, the Slytherin hadn’t hit anything towards him, and anyway Bludgers weren’t that soft. Nor were they white and papery.
It was a little bird made of folded parchment, and it fluttered frantically at him, pointing its beak up the field — Harry looked that way and saw, with a shock of fear, Higgs in hot pursuit of a glimmer of gold —
The faces in the stands turned into blurs as Harry threw himself forward on his Firebolt. His world had narrowed to just those two things — Higgs and the Snitch — and the goal of keeping the one away from the other, but not catching it until —
"KATIE BELL HAS BEATEN THE SLYTHERIN KEEPER!" roared Lee Jordan’s voice jubilantly. "THE SCORE STANDS AT SEVENTY-TEN GRYFFINDOR — AND THERE GO THE SEEKERS!"
Harry felt his face breaking into a huge grin — if there was such a thing as an anti-dementor, he was under its effects now. The Firebolt was not a separate entity but part of him, carrying him effortlessly past Higgs, over and around two or three other players, and straight up to the tiny golden ball.
The hand he closed around it, he saw with mild surprise, still held the little parchment bird.
xXxXx
Draco yanked a quill from his robes, tapped it quickly with his wand to load it, and began scribbling frantically as screaming, sobbing people rushed past him.
Harry —
Whatever you do, DON’T MENTION THAT BLOODY BIRD I SENT YOU JUST A SECOND AGO. To ANYONE. It was cheating, I know it was cheating, but it gets us what we want, right? So if you want to stay at Hogwarts, DO NOT MENTION IT TO ANYONE.
— Draco
He folded that note quickly into eighths and joined the screaming throng, letting his spirits rise.
We won. We really, truly won. We honestly — well, semi-honestly — won.
He managed to shove his way through the crowd long enough to get to Harry’s side and push the note into his hand. Harry unfolded it, scanned it, then dropped it, looked up, and rolled his eyes. I won’t, he mouthed, just before the crowd hoisted him onto its shoulders.
"But do me one favor!" Harry shouted over the noise as he was carried off towards the stands where Dumbledore awaited with the Quidditch Cup. "Keep them from shouting my name all over!"
Draco laughed, and took a deep breath, setting his voice into projection mode.
G-R-Y,
F-F-I,
N-D-O-R Lions!
More people began to pick up the chant, an old favorite.
G-R-Y,
F-F-I,
N-D-O-R Lions!
Now most of the stadium was chanting it.
Lions rule!
Lions rule!
We’re the masters of the school!
Who just won? shouted the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.
We did! screamed the Gryffindors.
Who just won? The second time was louder.
We did! Draco was sure his ears would never be the same.
Gryffindor just won at
QUIDDITCH!
Harry hoisted the Quidditch Cup above his head, grinning madly. Wood was sobbing openly, as were the girls. Fred and George looked like their faces might fall off any minute from smiling too hard.
Hermione caught Draco’s eye and pointed. Percy was jumping up and down and screaming, just like everyone else. Ron and Ginny were laughing at him in between cheering for Harry and the team. Neville had Meghan on his shoulders, where she was waving an enormous Gryffindor banner, and Luna’s lion-head earrings made her three times as noisy as anyone else. Draco appreciated that.
In the stands, Padfoot and Letha were kissing. Danger and Moony had their wands out. As Draco watched, they pointed them skyward. Twin fireballs streaked upward from them and met in midair, producing a great, fiery lion which roared realistically, then exploded into letters reading "GRYFFINDOR: QUIDDITCH CHAMPIONS!"
The screaming couldn’t possibly have got any louder, except that it did.
xXxXx
"All right, Ron, your turn," said Harry, taking another handful of candy from the bowl in the middle. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Greatest wish," said Neville.
"An owl of my own."
The boys all laughed.
"It’s true!" insisted Ron, looking put-out. "That’s all I want, and it’s simple enough, and what do I get for my birthday? Socks. Maroon socks." He pulled a face. "You’re up, Draco. Truth or dare?"
"Er, truth."
"Who d’you fancy?" asked Dean Thomas.
The other boys groaned. "That’s an easy one!" protested Harry. "Everyone knows he’s sweet on Luna!"
"Do I still have to answer?" asked Draco around a mouthful of Bertie Bott’s (peanut, apricot, leaf, salt, cloth, and coconut, he’d said).
"New question," said Seamus Finnegan. "Greatest fear."
Draco inhaled sharply and choked. Harry thumped him on the back until he spit out the offending beans. "Nearly dying when a great stupid prat like you startles me," he wheezed, wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve. "Someone else go."
Harry watched his brother out of the corner of his eye. Draco seemed all right, but every now and again something small, like this, would suddenly set his back up, and it would take him a while to calm back down.
And it’s been like this a while. Ever since Christmas, or thereabouts...
He’d watch a while longer, Harry decided. But he was probably being stupid. Draco had been home like the rest of them for Easter, and the Pack-parents hadn’t seen anything wrong with him.
And they would if anyone would.
He returned to the game, where Dean was now attempting to balance three Chocolate Frogs on his nose.
xXxXx
Out on the Quidditch pitch, a green-robed figure walked amid the litter of the day. He was seeking one piece in particular.
I think it might be useful. Especially now that daddy’s not-so-good little boy has been scared off his game. He grinned. This could be my big break.
Wand lit in his hand, he continued searching.
xXxXx
"This will be a full-class mock test," announced Snape. "You will do everything precisely as you will do it on your final exams, three weeks from today. Cheating will not be tolerated. You have one hour to complete the theoretical portion. Begin."
The parchment in front of Harry suddenly filled with writing. He read the first question while dipping his quill. It dealt with substitutions for ingredients, asking when it was and wasn’t allowable. It wouldn’t be easy, but he thought he could come up with a decent answer.
If the whole test is like this, I might have a chance...
Suddenly, a parchment bird landed on his desk. This one, unlike the one at the match, was fairly large — it looked like it had been folded from an entire sheet of parchment. He was about to unfold it when Ron poked him and handed him a note. Harry frowned at the two pieces of parchment in front of him, then slowly started to unfold the grubby note in his hand.
"Potter!" snapped Snape from beside one of the Slytherin desks. "What do you have there?"
I’m so dead. Harry swallowed and got to his feet. But I’m not taking Ron down with me. Wordlessly, he showed Snape the two notes.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor," said Snape, sweeping over and taking possession of bird and note. "Sight unseen." He unfolded the note, looked inside, then looked again. Slowly, he looked from note to bird, then turned away from Harry. "Black," he said silkily. "Come with me."
Draco looked up from his test, startled. "Me, Professor?"
"I see no one else of that surname in this class. Yes, you."
Draco looked at Harry suspiciously. Harry shrugged, hoping his innocence showed on his face — he had no idea what was in either of those notes, or where they had come from. He hoped it got sorted out soon. They had real exams to study for.
xXxXx
Albus Dumbledore looked up as his door opened and Severus Snape entered, Draco Black behind him. "Headmaster, I would like to meet with you, Minerva McGonagall, and Remus Lupin and his wife immediately, if possible."
"Is something wrong, Severus?"
"It is." Severus tossed two sheets of folded parchment onto Albus’ desk. "I have just caught Black cheating in my class."
xXxXx
Remus felt his heart sink to somewhere near the level of the Slytherin common room. "It does look like his handwriting," he said carefully. "Draco? Did you write this?" He held up the folded note.
Draco glared at it. "Yes," he said. "But not today, and not about this. And I never stole that answer sheet."
"Then how does it come to be on Harry Potter’s desk?" demanded Snape. "I think I can follow this story, if you’ll allow me. Black breaks into my office before class today and steals the answer sheet to the mock test. He has time to memorize them himself, and as the test begins, he decides to share his good fortune and sends the answers to his brother." The word dripped sarcasm. "He waits, of course, until I have my back turned to send them by air mail."
Draco was obviously bursting to say something, but Remus shook his head.
"But just as the bird leaves him," Snape continued, "he realizes that Potter, being rather more simplistic and idealistic than he is himself, may blurt out his good fortune to the entire world. So he sends another note, by more Muggle means so as not to attract too much attention, warning Potter not to say anything about the bird. Fortunately, one of my other students noticed the unusual traffic near the front of the class and mentioned it to me, and here we are."
Minerva shifted in her seat. "Mr. Black," she said in what, for her, passed as a kindly voice. "Please, tell us the truth. Were you cheating in Professor Snape’s class today?"
"No." Draco stared balefully at Snape. "I’ve never seen that answer sheet before. I’ve never even been in your office — I’m not even sure I know where it is! I was not cheating, and neither was Harry!"
"Draco, please try to understand," said Danger. "We want to believe you. But when you tell us you wrote this note to Harry, admitting to cheating, but you won’t tell us when or why... can’t you see it’s a little hard to believe you?"
"You think I’m lying, don’t you." Draco’s breath was coming faster. "You all think I’m lying. Let me tell you something, Professor." The title was loaded as much as Snape’s earlier use of the familial title for Harry. "If I did want to cheat in your class, I wouldn’t need to steal your answers. I know them all myself. And I wouldn’t have been so stupid as to send them to Harry for the mock test, or in a big bloody bird like that, when I know half that class is just dying to find anything they can to get me into trouble!"
"Draco, no one is trying to get you into trouble," said Remus. "But if you’ve cheated on something, we have to know. What was it?"
Draco shook his head. "You’d hate me if you knew," he said. "You’d..." His eyes widened, darting from one adult to the next. "You do hate me. All of you. You hate me! You think I’m lying, and you hate me!" He pointed at Remus and Danger, his voice rising hysterically. "You don’t want me — you’ve never wanted me! You just took me because you had to!"
He bolted from the office.
"Teenagers," said one of the portraits in a raspy, disgusted voice.
"Indeed," said Dumbledore with a sigh. "Where is he likely to go?"
"Back to the Tower, I’d guess," said Remus. "Why don’t we see if we can find out when this note was written, and work out what we can on our own before we try to confront him again..."
xXxXx
Draco tore through the common room, startling the second and seventh years considerably, and took the stairs three at a time, mind whirling. He knew what happened to people who cheated on tests at Hogwarts. Repeating a year was for the lucky ones like Marcus Flint.
And after what I just did, I don’t think I’m lucky.
I wonder what I’ll get apprenticed into. And where I’ll live, when the Pack kicks me out.
He was so lost in frantic thought that it took him several seconds to realize he was trying to push aside a hanging that wasn’t there anymore — he’d ripped it down in his haste. With a groan, he kicked it aside and sat down on his bed.
The globe sat on his nightstand, a familiar, comforting presence. Quickly, he picked it up and began to caress it. Tell me, he thought towards it as the smooth red calm flowed over him and filled him. What should I do now?
Slowly, a plan began to float into his mind, and as he thought it over, he began to smile. Of course, it was brilliant, perfect. It would save him — save him? It would turn him into the savior of the entire wizarding world! Then he’d be the celebrated one, not Harry — who cared about Harry, anyway?
You do.
He tried to banish the troublesome little voice, but it persisted. You care about Harry. You care about him a lot. You were trying to make sure he wouldn’t get in trouble for cheating when he didn’t.
Well, Harry would be fine without him. They’d all be fine without him. He was going to do what he should have done in the first place. He was going to leave. Only this time, he was going to take everything with him that he was entitled to have. He’d go to his house — Malfoy Manor was his, after all — and wait there. His father shouldn’t take too long to find him. They’d be outcasts together, until the day they forced wizarding society to take them back...
"Ow!" Draco pulled a finger around from the underside of the globe and stared at it. A drop of blood was welling up on it.
Must have found a rough spot. Reflexively, he stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked. He’d go right away, as soon as he could get packed, and as soon as he could get out to Hogsmeade...
A knock sounded on the door. "Draco? Are you all right?" called Luna’s voice from the other side of the door. "You came running in — at least I thought it was you, I couldn’t see you because of the shadow..."
The door opened. Luna stepped inside. "Draco? I know you’re in here..."
She came within sight, took one look at Draco, and screamed.
Shut her up! Now, before she brings everyone running and you lose your chance! Draco supported the globe on his lap and groped in his pocket for his wand, preparing to strike the brat down —
What? No! I don’t want to hurt Luna!
Don’t argue with me. Do it!
NO! Draco forced his fingers open from where they’d clenched around his wand. I won’t!
He felt his hand yanked back to the globe. You’ll do as I say, growled what he could now clearly discern was a voice different than his own. You’ll do as I say, or I’ll make you!
Draco got to his feet, staring furiously down at the globe his hands were now clutching without his wanting them to. I will effing NOT!
He screamed himself as lightning coursed from the globe through his body, sending him into convulsions, triggering his every nerve so that he was burning and freezing and crushed and in agony all at once. He would have dropped the globe, but he couldn’t move. He was vaguely aware that he was no longer upright, that he’d fallen to the floor between the beds, that there were other people in the room, but his attention was focused inward, on the raging battle —
Obey me! Do as I say, and the pain will cease!
Piss off and die! I bow to the people I choose, and no one else!
Choose me, then. Or you will die.
The pain intensified. He screamed again, and thought he heard his scream echoed in a higher register —
And then it was gone. There was nothing between his hands, no false messages sent to his nerves, his muscles were blessedly limp. In his last instant of awareness, he felt two fingers on his cheek, and knew who they belonged to.
Neenie.
The darkness claimed Draco Black with a smile on his lips.