Dealing with Danger
Chapter 20: Recovering and Returning (Year 3)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 20: Recovering and Returning
Remus stood by the door of the hospital wing, waiting. As Danger came into view, he stepped out to intercept her.
This is very nice, she said after a moment, but we need to get inside. We need to talk — I’ve just thought of something —
I know. But tell me this. Is there any immediate danger? Besides you, I mean.
I can’t see how there could be. But —
But nothing. I am the alpha of this Pack, and I am invoking my authority. I am going to take some time off, and you are coming with me. Understand?
Danger made her mental voice high and squeaky. Yes, Master Remus. Danger will do whatever you says, Master Remus.
Remus tickled her side, making her squeal and pull away, then took advantage of her being off balance to sweep her off her feet and carry her down the corridor.
No, wait, she protested, clinging to his neck. What about Draco?
I’ve said hello, so have you. The rest of the Pack is in there with him. He’ll be fine without us for a while. Remus opened his mind to her, showing her the places where fear had rubbed him raw and the mental shakiness he was beginning to feel as the euphoria of Hermione’s revelation and the curse’s successful transference wore off. Unless you want me to collapse in public.
No, I think that we can do without. At least this happened at the best possible time for you, moon-wise. It’s new tomorrow, I think.
You’re right. We have two full weeks until den-night. So we don’t have to be at all restrained right now...
Danger’s Animagus form might be a wolf, but there was plenty of cat in her nature as well, Remus reflected, as a happy growl, almost like a purr, resonated through both of them. He whistled at the door of their quarters, which sprang open, and carried her inside.
The door closed behind them of its own accord.
xXxXx
Sirius didn’t care for sitting around and doing nothing, except for times when he had a lot to think about.
But I think this qualifies.
Aletha had examined Ron and shown Poppy how to work through the layers of illusion the curse had laid down to make its victim seem dead, confirming by their spells and by Ron’s own words through his chain that he was comfortable. Molly would be along soon to check on him, and Arthur might well find time to drop by after he got home from work.
He was also highly curious about the large hole in the wall beside the fireplace, out of which Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had apparently appeared earlier. But Remus had told the cubs he’d let it stay a secret, and Sirius was willing to honor that. He wished some of the teachers he’d known at Hogwarts had been so understanding — but no, they’d wanted to know every single detail of everything he and James had ever been caught doing...
But those were memories for another day. Harry had closed the hole with a muttered password and was now sitting silently next to Ron, his expressions changing as if he was having a conversation, which he was, Sirius knew. Ginny was curled up on the end of Ron’s bed, snickering occasionally, and Hermione was sitting on his other side, a book in her hands, probably tossing in her two Knuts’ worth every so often. Luna, having reassured herself that Draco would be all right, had gone to say goodbye to her father before he went home.
Draco himself was sitting up in his bed with a look of long-suffering nobility as Aletha and Poppy poked and prodded at him. Sirius could sympathize. He’d always hated the hospital wing when Quidditch injuries or backfiring pranks had landed him there.
"I really do feel fine," Draco was saying now, with obviously forced patience.
"I’m aware of that. You’re still not allowed out of this bed." Poppy took Draco’s hand in hers and tapped it three times with her wand. "Circulation is back to normal, excellent."
"I don’t want to go very far. What about just over to the window?" He looked wistfully at Aletha. "I’d like to sit in the sun."
Aletha laughed. "You do love to bask. But I’m afraid I’m siding with Poppy on this one, fox. You may feel fine, but your body’s still recovering from the shock of shutting down and starting up again. You need to stay where you are for the time being."
Sirius stood up. "He can stay in bed and still be over by the window," he said. "Like so."
He drew his wand and levitated the bed. Draco brightened up and looked at the nurse hopefully.
Poppy folded her arms and glared at Sirius. "In all my years here, Sirius Black, I have never met anyone more determined to turn my infirmary into a circus. I have three more tests I wish to run and a potion for Master Black to drink, and then — and only then — I will allow you to play these silly games."
"Not a sleeping potion," said Draco quickly as Sirius lowered his bed to the floor again. "Please?"
"No, it’s a restorative. But until you have taken it, you," she rounded on Sirius, "will remove yourself. To the other end of the ward. Go and see your daughter again, if you like. Heaven knows I’d rather have her here than you, she’s much better company and a thousand times more cooperative..."
"I’m going, I’m going," said Sirius, beating a hasty retreat up the ward. Poppy and Aletha’s laughter followed him.
Meghan was still asleep, lying peacefully in her bed with Neville next to her, his arm draped over her possessively. Sirius felt a twinge of jealousy.
She’s only ten. I ought to have had her to myself for years yet. Who do you think you are, little Longbottom — you can’t just come flying in and steal my baby...
But the situation wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought, he told himself. Meghan was only ten, and a sensible ten at that, and Neville was by far the steadiest of the boys. This was just a childhood romance, with both parties mimicking the actions of their elders. Not for the first time, Sirius blessed his good fortune in finding Aletha and having the intelligence to hold on to her, and in living with Remus and Danger.
Pearl has some good role models there, if I do say so myself. And I don’t know what couples Neville’s known, but he has to have heard stories about his parents, and now he has the real thing to watch. We’ll just keep an eye on them, and not try and fix anything that isn’t broken.
He bent down and kissed his daughter’s cheek. "Love you, sweetheart," he told her, adding a scent-touch to the same spot. "You’ll need to be more careful about what you try to heal, though."
As his fingers rested on her cheek, he could have sworn he heard her blow a raspberry at him.
Draco was just setting aside the goblet, making a face, as Sirius stepped back out into the main ward. "Is there some rule that all Healing potions have to taste really nasty?" he asked as Sirius levitated his bed again.
"You’re the ace potion maker. You tell me."
"He hasn’t got to that level yet," said Aletha from behind him, where she had two chairs suspended in the air with her wand. "But yes. It’s in the Big Book of Potions Rules."
"There is no such thing," said Draco, but his voice wasn’t as sure as his words. "Is there?"
Aletha nodded soberly. "Of course there is. There’s a Big Book of Rules for everything. They define life and all the actions therein."
"For instance, there’s the Big Book of Villains’ Rules," said Sirius. "It states that all villains must gloat when they catch the heroes in their evil strongholds, in the process explaining all their evil plans, and then they must leave the heroes alone to give them a chance to escape and use their new knowledge to destroy them. The villains, that is." He set Draco’s bed down in the beam of sunlight coming from the window.
"That’s not true."
"Or the Big Book of Heroes’ Rules," said Aletha, giving Sirius one chair and taking the other herself. Sirius spun his around and straddled it. "Always, always, always help the cute little animals, the old women in trouble, and the children with big eyes. Pick a good sidekick — make sure he’s willing to take a bullet for you. Or a spell. He should also have a cute sister or cousin you can fall for."
"You’re making this up."
"And then there’s the Big Book of Parents’ Rules," said Sirius. "Number one on the list — always give your child as hard a time as possible." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the chair. "How’re we doing?"
Draco punched him in the shoulder and suggested something which made Aletha clear her throat. "I’ve done my share of swearing," she said, "but if I ever hear you say that again, I think I’ll have you give it a try and find out just how uncomfortable it would be."
Draco immediately sat up very straight and folded his hands, looking entirely prim and proper. Sirius leaned over and poked him in the side, making Draco yelp and glare. "Nothing too far wrong with you anymore," he said in satisfaction.
Draco shuddered and looked back down the ward, to the bed where Ron lay. "That was horrible," he said with true conviction. "I don’t ever want to do it again."
"Nor do I," said Aletha. "Though I’m glad it was what it was, little fox, and not what it looked like. I don’t think I could stand losing you." She shifted from her chair to his bed and opened her arms to him, and Draco scooted down the bed and let her hug him.
"Do you think that’s really what it’s like when you die?" he asked hesitantly when Aletha had moved back to her chair. "Being trapped like that, just stuck, and not ever being able to do anything again?"
"No," said Sirius and Aletha in chorus, then smiled at each other. Sirius motioned Aletha to continue.
"We know that we’re not just our bodies, that there is such a thing as a soul," said Aletha. "And that what we consider our ‘selves’ — the things that make us who we are, like our magic and our memories and our ability to love — reside in the soul. What we call ‘death’ is actually a twofold process. The body stops working, and the soul departs from it. As we’ve just had proved, you can have one without the other, though I doubt it could happen without magic."
"We already knew you could have one without the other," said Sirius. "From the Dementor’s Kiss. That yanks the soul out, but the body’s still working."
"True enough," said Aletha, giving him a look, "but perhaps not the most appropriate topic of conversation at this time."
"It’s relevant."
The look intensified for a moment. Then Aletha turned back to Draco. "But the fact that the soul departs — that a truly dead person is invariably without a soul — makes me sure that what you just experienced is nothing like real death, Draco. That is still one of the greatest mysteries of life."
"So what are we supposed to do, then?" asked Draco a touch bitterly. "Just live for the moment, because we could die any time and we don’t know when?" He turned onto his side, facing away from them. "And we don’t know what’s going to happen when we do, either," he said to the wall. "We could go on to some great wonderful place, but we could also just go pop like a bubble, and that’s the end. What are we supposed to do?"
Sirius looked at Aletha. I have an idea, he told her in hand-sign. Let me try? She nodded, and he rubbed his fingers against the back of the chair, feeling the grain of the wood, putting his words together.
"All I can tell you is what I’ve come up with," he said finally. "And I don’t claim to be any kind of expert. But to my way of thinking, it really doesn’t matter so much what happens after we die. Not in the sense of changing how we’re going to act day-to-day."
Draco turned over to stare at him. "Huh?"
"If we do go on to something else — and I tend to believe we do, but I’ll get to that later — if we do go on, there’s probably an entrance fee. Not in money or anything like that, but in how we’ve spent our lives. We only have so much time here on earth. If there is Someone up there watching us, I don’t think He cares to see us wasting that time. Having fun, relaxing, sure, but not out-and-out wasting it. Not just playing around when there’s work that needs to be done, work that we can do. Work that makes a difference."
Aletha was watching him with a knowing smile. Draco sat up again, listening.
"If we don’t go on — if we just go pop like a bubble, like you said — well, everybody leaves something behind. Wouldn’t you rather leave something good and valuable and have people remember you by it? Even if they don’t know your name, they’ll still be remembering you every time they use that spell, or that road, or whatever it is."
"Or when they fall in love with one of your descendants," added Aletha. "Or have their lives touched by them in some other way."
Draco was nodding, his face relieved and understanding. "So you’re saying we can hope for a better world after we die, but what we really ought to be thinking about is making this a better world while we’re still alive."
"That’s the Snitch," said Sirius. "Would you care to be bored a little longer with why I think there probably is something beyond this world we live in?"
"I think I can take it." Draco clung to the edge of his bed as if he expected to be blown away. "Go ahead."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Funny. You know, I was pretty stupid when I was young..." He looked over at Aletha. "Insert comment here."
"No thank you," said Aletha, shaking her head. "He thinks he’s funny," she said to Draco. "Despite everything I’ve tried to teach him, he still thinks he’s funny."
"Are you quite finished?" Sirius demanded.
"Yes, go on. Don’t worry about me, you’ll hear me if I have anything to say."
Sirius sighed. "I get no respect. As I was saying — I acted pretty stupid while I was at Hogwarts, and when I was an apprentice. Right up until someone I knew died. He was a clerk who worked in the Auror Office, an older wizard. His name was Charles Hartman, and he was always kind to everyone. He kept a bowl of candy on his desk, for anyone to help themselves. He knew everyone’s name, and all about them, and would ask after their families and their pets. And then one morning his desk was empty, and we found out he’d been killed by Death Eaters because he was Muggleborn."
He hadn’t thought about Mr. Hartman in years, but the man’s face — fringe of white hair around a shining bald crown, crinkled eyes, rather large nose, cheerful smile — rose in his memory as easily as if he’d seen him yesterday.
"I couldn’t believe it. None of us could. How could he be gone? It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t right. But it had happened, and none of us with all our pride in our magic and our strength could bring him back. I think that’s when I started believing there was something beyond this life, was when Mr. Hartman died. Because that much caring, that much kindness, that much love couldn’t just vanish into nothing."
He looked over at his wife. "And then I got my head on straight where Letha was concerned, around the time James and Lily got married. And I felt it again, about both of us, all of us. One lifetime wasn’t enough to hold all the love we felt. There ought to be something more."
"And then came Harry," said Aletha. "And you knew there had to be something more."
Sirius nodded. "This is probably sounding stupid and ridiculous," he said. "But it’s the honest truth. We’ve seen for ourselves that the effects of love can even outlast death — Lily’s been dead for years, but her love is still with Harry, keeping him safe."
"And your mother’s love is what anchors the wards around the Den," added Aletha, touching Draco’s hand gently. "Love has its own magic, beyond anything we know or understand. So it doesn’t seem like a bad thing to put our faith in."
Draco’s cheeks were a little pink, but he was smiling. "Thanks," he said. "Now I can die happy."
"What?" Aletha looked alarmed.
"Of an overdose of sugar." Draco leaned back in his bed, flung one hand dramatically against his brow, closed his eyes and let his mouth hang open slightly.
Sirius snickered. "Don’t encourage him," said Aletha severely, then drew her wand and tapped Draco’s hand once.
Sirius stared as the hand molded itself to the forehead, as though all the bones had been removed from it. Draco opened one eye and examined his hand at close range. "See?" he said, then pitched his voice several tones higher. "I’m melting, I’m melting..."
Sirius had known Draco was a wicked mimic, but this was too much. He stood up and went quickly behind the screens where Meghan and Neville were sleeping, put up Silencing Charms, and fell onto the chair beside the bed, feeling the last of his tension release itself in his laughter.
When he emerged, Aletha had restored Draco’s hand, and they were chatting about school and other things. "Ron’s going to miss the Combat Club final," said Draco. "It’s in just about two weeks, right before finals start. Oi, Ron!" he shouted down the ward. "Should have thought — you’ll miss Combat Club!"
"He says good," Ginny shouted back. "He says we’re overdue to be partners with Slytherin, and he doesn’t want to have to do that."
"That’s true, Gryffindor and Slytherin haven’t been partners all year," said Aletha. "I wonder why not?"
Draco and Sirius snorted identically, then looked at each other in surprise as Aletha cracked up. "What were you going to say?" Draco asked.
"I was going to say I thought Moony and Danger have been rigging the draws. What were you going to say?"
"Same."
"Then we agree," said Sirius in satisfaction. "I do love a good non-argument."
"Because it’s the only kind you can win," said Aletha slyly.
"Why did I marry this woman?" Sirius asked the ceiling. "All she does is abuse me. Night and day, day and night, the ill-treatment never stops. Woe is me. I dare not lift a finger without her permission. I am the original henpecked husband."
Aletha rose from her chair and shut him up in time-honored fashion.
"I think that’s a little more than a peck," said Draco, staring at them.
"Get a room," shouted Harry from the other end of the ward. Ginny whistled through her fingers.
"Where’d you learn to do that?" said Sirius, breaking off the kiss. Hermione, he saw, was ignoring them all with calm dignity.
"Harry taught me."
"Thought so."
The flames in the fireplace turned green. "That’ll be Molly," said Sirius, and sure enough, a few moments later, Molly Weasley stepped neatly from the fireplace and intercepted a running hug from Ginny.
"You know, it strikes me there’s likely some fires that need putting out elsewhere in the school," said Aletha. "Remus said there were a fair number of students in the common room when this happened. We’ll need a decent cover story..."
"Oh, you mean you’re not going to tell them that I was under an evil curse, but Ron took it on himself out of the goodness of his heart?" Draco inquired in an innocent voice.
Aletha looked down at him. "Well, if you want it back..."
Draco zipped a finger across his lips.
With a loud bang, the doors of the hospital wing flew open and Fred and George Weasley piled in, Percy right behind them, the twins already talking.
"We heard something’s wrong with Draco."
"That’s not Draco. What’s happened to Ron?"
"Mum, what are you doing here?"
"Er, Fred, I don’t think he’s breathing..."
Madam Pomfrey, who had come out of her office to see who had arrived by Floo, threw up her hands in exasperation. "I knew it!" she said, spinning on her heel. "The circus has begun." She cast a look at Sirius. "This is all your fault."
"Why is it always me?" said Sirius to no one in particular as the door of the nurse’s office banged shut again.
Another bang made him look down just in time to see a house-elf materialize beside him. "Sirius Black, sir?" it squeaked, tugging at Sirius’ robes. "Kiffy has a note for sir."
"Give it here," said Sirius, reaching down without taking his eyes off Ginny, Harry, and Hermione. They were explaining the circumstances behind the curse and its transference to the other Weasley brothers one after another, taking a sentence apiece, as if they were reading from a script. They were probably coordinating through Ron’s chain, Sirius thought. "Thank you," he added towards his knees.
"Wow," said Fred in awe. "Ron’s dead?"
"No, it just looks like it," said Harry. "It’ll wear off."
"Nuts." George snapped his fingers.
"He says he wishes he could do it to you," said Ginny. "Because maybe then you’d shut up for a while."
Mrs. Weasley directed a glare at all her children. "That’s enough, now. How are you feeling, Ron dear?" She came to Ron’s bedside. Hermione vacated her chair for the older witch and handed her a loop of chain.
"You put it on," she whispered. "Then you can hear him, inside your head."
The twins immediately picked up some of the chain themselves, only to have it melt through their hands and return to its original place. "What’s with this thing?" asked Fred, staring at it and making another unsuccessful grab.
"I don’t think Ron wants to talk to you right now," said Ginny, giggling.
"He says he’s still angry about what you did to his wand at our last Combat Club practice," said Hermione.
"That was an accident," said George, looking offended.
"Totally random," added Fred.
"We just tossed it in there."
"How were we supposed to know..."
"That Ron would pick up the one we’d rigged to explode?"
"How’d you do that, anyway?" Draco called down the ward.
"Oh, there you are," said Fred, turning to look. "Feel all right?"
"Fine. How’d you do it?"
"It’s easy enough," said George. "You adjust the dye output up as far as it’ll go."
"You can adjust it?" Draco beckoned the twins closer. "Tell me more."
"I think we’re not going to be welcome here at the moment," said Aletha, starting towards Ron’s bed.
"I think you’re right." Sirius gave the twins a thumbs-up as he passed them.
"Oh, Percy, he says thanks," Harry was saying as they got closer. "For clearing off the stairs so he could get out faster. And you kept everyone from swarming up there, too, he says. That was a big help."
Percy nodded gravely. "Tell him he’s very welcome."
"Tell him yourself. He can hear just fine. Better yet, come on in. He doesn’t mind."
Percy looked a bit surprised, but pleased. "I’ll do that." He sat down on the bed next to Ron’s and took the chain Ginny handed to him, holding it gingerly, then slid it over his head as if he’d never done such a thing before.
Well, maybe he hasn’t. A lot of men don’t wear jewelry.
"Molly, I wanted to talk to you," said Aletha, beckoning to the witch. "Do you have a moment?"
"Of course — I’ll be back in a second, Ron, love..." Molly took the chain off and came out from between the beds. "Is something else the matter?"
"For a change, no. I just wanted to thank you for letting Ron do this."
Molly shook her head. "I’ve long since given up being surprised at anything that happens to or with your family," she said. "Quite truthfully, you’re more like a force of nature than anything else, and woe betide anything or anyone who gets in your way. But you’re intelligent, mature adults — yes, even you, Sirius. I know you may not care for it, but it is the truth. You behave like an overgrown teenager most of the time, but let one of these children be threatened and you’re all Auror in a second. No matter how odd the things you get up to sound, you’ve never let Ron or Ginny come to harm, and I believe you never will."
Sirius stared at her for a second, then impulsively put his arms around her, hugged her hard, and kissed her once on the cheek. She squeaked in outrage and slapped him.
"There, now we’re back to normal." Sirius rubbed his cheek. "I was starting to understand what Draco was talking about."
Aletha was hugging Molly now. "Thank you so much," she said, letting the red-haired witch go. "And you do realize you’ve now scared me beyond my power to comprehend at this time? One mistake by any of us, and your children could be badly hurt, even killed for real. And you’ve given us your trust. It’s not an easy thing to live up to."
"I have confidence in you, Aletha. And in your loutish husband, as hard as it sometimes is to justify." Molly kissed her hand and patted Sirius’ cheek. "And in Remus and Danger, and in your children as well. They seem sensible when it comes to truly perilous situations, and the avoiding thereof. Getting into mischief, of course, is another story."
"It always is." Aletha laughed. "At least we get good stories out of it all."
"We do." Molly checked her watch. "Excuse me, I should spend another few minutes with Ron before I go home to start dinner."
"Sirius, what did the house-elf want?" Aletha asked as Molly returned to Ron’s bedside.
"Oh — it had a note for me." Sirius looked at the parchment he was still holding. "From Danger. Guess she’s too lazy to come down herself." He ripped it open. "Let’s see here. ‘Ask Poppy if Ron can sleep through the worst of the effects. I’ve bargained to get him a dream world he can hang around in until this wears off. Don’t bother us right now, or I’ll rip off... your...’" Sirius read the rest of the note to himself and swallowed. "And you say men are violent," he said, handing the note to Aletha.
"You are."
"I’m not the one who routinely threatens to kill the toaster."
Aletha huffed. "It’s the only way to get it to shut up! It was nice of Arthur to give it to us, but I wish he’d fixed it first!"
"He did fix it. It sings on key now. You wouldn’t have wanted to hear it before."
Aletha shook her head. "Let me talk to Poppy for a minute," she said. "And then we can start thinking up what happened."
xXxXx
"Ron Weasley?" said Lavender Brown in amazement. "A hero?"
Hermione nodded. "He saved Draco’s life, probably," she said. "And Neville’s and Meghan’s, too."
The story Letha and Padfoot had come up with involved as much of the truth as possible — Draco accused of cheating, denying the whole story, bolting out of Dumbledore’s office, and the Pride turning up in the common room after seeing him running that way while they were headed for Dumbledore’s office themselves — but obviously had a few differences.
We couldn’t exactly go telling the world about the curse.
In this version, Draco had been trying to figure out some way to prove he was innocent, and sorting through his potion ingredients, which he often did to calm himself down. Dean and Seamus were able to verify this, which helped a lot. In so doing, the story went on, Draco had accidentally opened a vial of nightshade extract and been overwhelmed by the fumes. Neville and Meghan had run in to try to bring him out and been likewise overwhelmed, and it had been Ron who finally dragged them all out of the room, getting a much higher dose of nightshade in the process, accounting for the longer time he’d spend recovering.
There was only one thing that bothered Hermione. In order to keep this story from falling apart, most of the second and seventh year Gryffindors had had to be Obliviated, to keep them from remembering that instead of remaining aloft as he would have had to in order to rescue anyone, Ron had dashed back down the stairs almost immediately, and returned only a few moments later with Moony and Danger...
They did get back quickly. I thought it took longer to get to Moony’s office. Or Professor Dumbledore’s, since that’s where they were.
But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was that her Housemates’ memories had been tampered with. That was wrong. Wasn’t it?
It means no one knows that your brother was almost buried alive because of a curse, murmured a voice which sounded oddly like Ron’s. It means no one knows that a cursed object got through all the security on Hogwarts. Isn’t that worth a little tampering with people’s memories?
She wasn’t sure.
And maybe does it have something to do with you not being a hero in this story?
Yes, all right, to herself she could admit it. It galled her that Ron got to be the only hero of the official story. He was a hero, of course — she wasn’t sure she could have volunteered the way he had, even if she’d been eligible — but she had stopped the globe torturing Draco.
And possibly set off the final stage of the curse.
But they didn’t know that for sure. Draco might have kept fighting it until that stage kicked in anyway. Or he might have given in to it, and that would have been worse.
So it all turned out for the best, right?
Right. Of course, right.
So why are you arguing about it still?
She didn’t know.
Maybe she’d go to bed early so she could see Ron.
Ooh, you want to kiss him again?
On second thought, maybe not.
xXxXx
Remus padded across the lawns in lion form, sniffing the breeze to find out who, if anyone, else was out here at midnight. Danger was in a state between sleep and unconsciousness, the payment time for the magic she’d used for Ron, so Remus was free to do as he pleased for a few hours without her along. It was enjoyable every once in a while, but he wouldn’t want to do it often.
He snorted in disgust as he picked up the foul stench of the dementors at the front gates.
Glide one inch within these grounds and we’ll find out if dementors can die...
A black hood turned to regard him, and he knew he’d been sensed. Or possibly scented — dementors hunted by tracking both emotions and scent, using one where they couldn’t find the other. He and Sirius, so long ago, had been able to avoid them by being in animal form, by their long immersion in seawater, and by using Muggle transportation, which effectively masked their scents under exhaust fumes.
His lips peeled back from his teeth, and he growled a quiet defiance at the filthy aberrations which dared linger near these hallowed grounds. Perhaps Hogwarts was not sacred to God or gods, but it was still a place set apart, a haven of good magic, where the young came to learn in safety. If he had his way, the dementors would all be destroyed, thrust back to the nether regions where such things as they belonged, never to threaten this place again.
Footsteps behind him alerted him to another presence. "Lupin," said a precise, clipped voice. "Out for a little walk in the moonlight?"
Remus changed back to human and turned. "Hello, Severus."
"Your lady wife is sleeping well, I trust?"
"Quite well, thank you. Severus, I wanted to thank you for not pursuing the subject of Draco’s supposed cheating..."
"Don’t flatter yourself, Lupin, it was nothing you said that changed my mind. One of my own students approached me to tell me privately that Black had been framed. I have dealt with the problem."
"I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me who..."
"No." It was a flat, definite negative. "It is an internal affair of Slytherin House, my concern and mine only. You tend to your own, and I shall tend to mine."
"I’ll do that. But I also wanted to thank you for agreeing not to spread the true story of what happened this afternoon."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I’m afraid I fail to understand why I was told. I don’t believe you have such a high regard for my intelligence as to believe I would see through the other story — though I might have doubts that Draco Black, as one of my best students, would accidentally open a vial of nightshade extract."
"It’s your right to know what happens with us. As it’s Minerva’s right, and Albus’, and even Hagrid’s."
"If you’re going to cite the ridiculous distinction of being a Pack-friend..." Snape spit the appellation. "...you may save your breath. I am no friend to you and yours, and I never will be."
"I doubt that," said Remus, watching the other wizard’s outline shift. "Severus, have you ever researched the Animagus transformation?"
Snape regarded him suspiciously. "Portions of it," he admitted.
"Has your research ever extended to discovering what your own form would be, should you undergo the process?"
"It has."
"May I inquire as to that form?"
"You may inquire. I will not answer."
"But I may guess, may I not?"
"If you like."
"A raven."
Snape stiffened for one instant. "Clever," he said finally. "Very clever, Lupin. How did you do it — some modification of the scrying spell?"
"A prophecy I once heard spoken. And other information available to me. That information makes me sure that despite all your protestations to the contrary, if it were necessary, you would stand our friend. You might not enjoy doing so, but you would do it."
Snape stared at him for a moment impassively. "Delude yourself if you must," he said finally. "But do not rely overmuch on your information. It might fail you at a crucial moment."
Remus smiled. "Thank you for the advice, Severus. Good night."
xXxXx
Hermione was late arriving in the dream world, later than anyone else. Ron landed his Firebolt when he saw her, assiduously avoiding her eyes as he walked towards her.
"About the hospital wing," blurted Hermione. "It never happened, all right?"
"Sure," agreed Ron, looking very relieved. "Never happened."
"Shake?"
"Shake."
They shook.
"What’s going on?"
"Quidditch."
"I should have guessed. Don’t you ever think about anything else?"
"Well, food’s good too."
"I meant something—" Hermione caught the twitch of his lips. "You’re teasing me!"
"It’s not hard. All I have to do is act like myself and you go up like a fireworks display. Works every time."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and hissed. "I hate you."
"I know." Grinning cheekily, Ron took off again.
Hermione sat down on the grass to watch.
xXxXx
Sirius returned to work the next day. Rufus Scrimgeour stared at him for a moment or two, then turned and walked away.
"Bearded the lion in his den, I hear," said Kingsley through the window between their cubicles as Sirius dropped into his chair.
"Did what I had to. How’s the work?"
"Awful, as usual. Want some?"
"Toss it over."
xXxXx
Surprising Healer Young, Madam Pomfrey, and himself, Ron started breathing again at some point during his second night with the curse, and could open his eyes a little by the next morning. Meghan, who had awakened soon after dinner the day of the curse, stayed by his bed most of the day, and the rest of the Pride dropped in between every class and at mealtimes, having the house-elves bring food up for them.
"I’ve never seen a faster recovery," Healer Young told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley five days after the transference. "Usually it takes at least ten to twelve days to progress to this stage. Your son must be very hardy."
"Strong and tenacious," said Mr. Weasley proudly. "That’s my Ron."
Ron turned his head to hide his flush.
xXxXx
"Why did it embarrass you?" asked Hermione later. "You are strong and tenacious."
"I don’t even know... what that second word means."
"Stubborn. Holding on hard. You don’t ever give up."
"That’s supposed... to be a good thing?"
"It can be. As long as you’re not stupid about it."
"Come on, Hermione... it’s me. I’ll always... be stupid about it."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you say so."
Draco pushed the door open and strolled up the ward. "Ron. Neenie."
Hermione cleared her throat significantly.
"There’s no one else here. And actually, would you excuse us for a second?"
"If you insist." Hermione picked up her book and notes and stood. "I’ll be back later."
"What’s going on?" asked Ron, noticing for the first time that Draco’s posture was off balance. As if he were carrying a package, though there was nothing in his hand... or nothing that Ron could see, anyway.
"Just brought you something." Draco reached across and pulled at the air, and away came Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, revealing —
"That’s your owl," said Ron, as Draco set the cage on the bedside table. "Morpheus." He frowned. "Wasn’t he... darker than that?"
"Morpheus was a good name for him in more ways than one. It means sleep, and he does do that a lot, but it also sounds like morphing, changing, and it turns out he’s a chameleon owl. He can change the color of his feathers. He was tawny when I bought him, but then he turned dark — he’s been snowy like Hedwig, had the barn-owl heart shape around his face... lots of things." Draco reached through the bars and stroked the owl’s head feathers. "But he’s not mine any more. He’s yours."
Ron was dumbstruck for a second. "I can’t take your owl," he protested finally. "I don’t need one. It’s not like I write... a lot of letters."
"But you want an owl of your own, you said so. And you did save my life, or close to it. I want to do something for you." Draco tried a smile. "Please?"
Ron felt himself smiling back. "Well... if you’re going to make me..."
"Yeah, I am."
"Then... thanks."
"I’ll leave him here," said Draco, unlatching the cage door. "So you can see him for a while. He can head for the Owlery if he gets hungry. So have you heard the latest about Combat Club?"
"No. What’s up?"
"It is going to be Gryffindor and Slytherin versus Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Professor Lupin just drew the slips and announced it an hour ago."
"Glad I’m in here," said Ron with feeling. "I don’t know if I could handle... cooperating with Slytherins."
"Oh, come on, they can’t all be bad."
"Want to bet?"
"I was nearly one."
"You were?"
"Yeah. The Hat said I’d do well in Slytherin. But I told it I didn’t want to be great, I just wanted to do well, and it ended up putting me in Gryffindor."
Ron nodded. It seemed plausible that the Hat would consider Slytherin for Draco, because of his background, but he knew the blond boy had wanted to be a Gryffindor for years, and the Hat seemed to listen to what people want. "It doesn’t matter what you... nearly were," he said finally. "It matters what you are."
Draco looked at him. "That’s very philosophical," he said.
Ron cracked another smile. "Comes from... lying flat on my back all day."
Harry skidded in through the open door, slips of parchment flying out of his bag. "What’d I miss?"
"Not much," said Draco. "Just told him about Combat Club."
"Yeah." Harry came over and sat down with an expression of deep disgust. "Why couldn’t we have missed out on it just once more? We’ve avoided it all year..."
"Maybe they’re trying to teach us something," said Draco.
Harry groaned. "That would be just like them. Sneaking life lessons into stuff that’s supposed to be fun. Why can’t we just shoot everybody else and be done with it?"
"Because everybody else may not be our enemies?"
"I like the sound of that," said Ron. "Shooting everybody... not the other thing."
"Well, not that it wouldn’t be fun," Draco conceded. "Shooting everybody. But it wouldn’t win us the match. We’ve got to take it as it comes."
"Take it as it comes," repeated Harry. "Is that code for ‘let them walk all over us’?"
"No. But it is code for ‘please don’t shoot your allies, even if you don’t like them.’"
Harry sighed. "For the length of the match, I think I can handle that. Not any longer than that, though."
Ron was suddenly curious. His own time with the Sorting Hat had been brief and easy, but Draco and Harry had both taken longer. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Did the Sorting Hat consider putting you... anywhere else?"
"Er... why?"
"Just wondering. Drake said... he could have been in... Slytherin."
"I talked it around," said Draco with a shrug. "Told it I’d be miserable there, so it tried bunging me in Ravenclaw. I said I’d go nuts stuck in a library all day, and it finally went to Gryffindor."
Harry squirmed. "That’s kind of what happened to me," he said. "It thought of a couple possibilities..."
"Slytherin?" asked Ron.
Harry nodded.
Harry in Slytherin. Ron tried to imagine it, and had a hard time. Harry could think around corners, sure, and come up with plans for things, but he wasn’t really sneaky. He wore his heart on his sleeve too much.
Takes one to know one, Weasley.
That was true, but it didn’t really matter. Besides, Fred and George were the sneakiest people he knew, and the Hat had had no trouble declaring them Gryffindors.
Harry and Draco are my best friends. I know them. They’re not evil.
And Harry was watching him, looking worried.
"What’s wrong with you?" Ron asked.
"Don’t know. I guess I just never wanted to tell anyone about it, because they might start thinking I ought to be in Slytherin anyway, even though I told the Hat I didn’t want to..."
"Then that’s why you don’t. Because you don’t want to. Does the Hat ever put anyone... where they don’t want to go?"
Harry and Draco exchanged wondering looks. "I don’t know," said Harry. "Maybe we could ask Professor Dumbledore some time. But I don’t think so — not when the whole idea of Sorting is to put you where you’ll have the easiest time making friends and getting along..."
"It does tend to concentrate the trouble-makers, though," said Draco. "They’re most likely to be Gryffindors or Slytherins. Ravenclaws are too busy studying, and Hufflepuffs are too nice."
"Makes it easy on the teachers," said Ron. "Makes sense."
Hermione peered around the door. "May I come back in now, or are you still doing secret boy things?"
xXxXx
He closed his fists hard, staring out the window at the swirling water.
It was the perfect plan. I remembered the bird, and the note, and I went out to find it, and did all the set-up and everything, and it was working, right until someone blabbed that I’d started the note going, not Black...
If I ever find out who ratted on me, I’ll beat them so far into the ground they won’t need to be buried.
But at least it made people notice me. It showed I had ideas. And now they’re giving me the important jobs, trusting me over anybody else, even Daddy’s little boy...
He grinned nastily as he thought about what he’d be doing very soon.
xXxXx
It didn’t matter, he told himself, if he wrote letters. Anyone could write letters.
And there was no harm in relating the latest school gossip. It wasn’t as if it was secret. Anyone could find out about it.
He didn’t have to be responsible for what happened to his letters after they left him. Once you sent a letter, it stopped being your property or your problem. And as long as he wrote with his special quill, no one could ever trace it back to him.
But a small part of him still rebelled every time he sat down to write another letter.
He’d become very good at ignoring that part.
xXxXx
Dear Colleen,
I was very glad to get your latest letter. You must be intelligent, to complete your homework so quickly and still have time to write such long letters. I always feel happier when I see your handwriting on the outside of an envelope.
Quite honestly, I have little idea what I would like to do after I leave Hogwarts. I have always loved reading, so I’ve toyed for years with the idea of becoming an author. My teachers often compliment my essays, and I’ve been told I have a way with words, but I don’t know if that in itself is enough to equip an author.
Healers and mediwitches are always in demand. I’m certain you would have no problem finding employment. I understand your reservations about your temperament, but I doubt you would have been sorted into Gryffindor if you had no courage. You must find it and use it to overcome what you call your "horrible shyness."
Personally, I see very little wrong with the way you usually act, except with the way you interact with other people. I know you may not be comfortable with it, but lifting your head and making eye contact with the person you are speaking to will help a great deal. Practice with your friends, and with teachers you like, and gradually work your way up to Professor Snape. (He even frightens me sometimes.)
I hope to hear from you again soon. Your letters brighten my days.
Sincerely,
Your Secret Admirer
xXxXx
Danger was writing a note on the calendar hanging in Remus’ office when she noticed something odd. She frowned, then closed her eyes. Are you aware we’ve scheduled the last Combat Club match on a full moon?
Yes. Don’t worry, the match will be over well before dark. It’s timed, so there’s no possibility of it going too long.
You’re sure?
Positive. Danger, it’s the only day we can have it — all the teachers want this over with before exams begin, so the students aren’t distracted, and there’s Hogsmeade the day before, and you know we’d never get them to give that up.
Danger sighed. Well... all right. I suppose you’re right. And it’s not like you’re incapacitated that day.
Not with you by my side, O queen of my heart.
You can’t see it, but I’m swooning with delight.
Shall I come in and catch you?
If you’d like. Danger smiled. I could make it worth your while...
On my way.
xXxXx
He walked into the same alleyway he’d entered on Halloween, and began the same process he’d used then — scratching his head while writing his note, then folding it and leaving it under the stone.
I’m going back to the castle alone at 3:00. I’ll come here first, around 2:45. The people I’ve been hanging around with recently are going back at 5:00.
Slipping out of the alley, he smiled to himself.
I knew showing a little initiative wouldn’t go wrong.
xXxXx
Luna knelt in her place at a cross-corridor on the third floor, listening carefully for any sounds of footsteps down the hall. As far as she knew, there weren’t any echo-eaters at Hogwarts, so sounds should carry a normal distance. She wished she could have had her own wand for a moment, though, so she could check. If there were echo-eaters, the Ravenpuff army could be right around that corner and she’d never know.
There were no fancy rules for this match — the army with the most territory, the most prisoners, and the fewest losses would win. The Gryffindor and Slytherin Combat Club Captains, after a few sessions of glaring at each other, had come up with a plan. The fifth, sixth, and seventh years would form small teams and scout territory. Then an attack force of all years would move in to take the scouted section. Finally, the first through fourth years would set up to guard prisoners and perimeter, and the whole process would begin again.
It was working beautifully, Luna thought. Even if she did have to share her guarding duties with a Slytherin. She wished she could have been partners with Draco, but he was just one section over with Hermione, and Harry and Ginny were on her other side.
She looked steadily at her Slytherin partner for a few moments. I think I know him. Or I’ve seen him before.
That’s right. He’s Harry’s cousin. Mr. Moony brought him to the train in the Weasleys’ car, my first year. And I’ve seen him around the school. I don’t think he likes Harry very much.
As if he’d felt her eyes, the Slytherin’s head snapped around. "Watch the hall!" he hissed at her. "Stupid girl, they could sneak up on us while you’re busy staring at me!"
Well, there’s no need to be rude. Luna looked at him for one more moment, fixing his image in her mind so she’d be sure to know him again, then turned away.
Her last sensation was a sharp pain in the back of her head.