Dealing with Danger
Chapter 28: Herbs and Interviews (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
It's a folk song, and it isn't mine.
Chapter 28: Herbs and Interviews
Midnight had come and gone, but Remus felt no desire to sleep. He’d slept enough in the past few days.
Besides, asleep, I can’t appreciate this.
Danger lay beside him, hair spread across the pillow, her bare arm entwined with his. He ran his foot up and down her leg and felt his spine prickle at the soft smooth skin against his own. His hand slid across her belly once, then ventured into other regions.
She shifted. Stop that.
Why?
Because I say so.
Not good enough.
Please?
Better, but still not quite.
I want to talk to you.
This will generate talking.
I said talk, not moan.
Aww, what’s wrong with moaning.
Nothing. And I’ll gladly moan after we talk. But we need to talk.
Remus grumbled a little, but desisted. So what do you want to talk about?
Danger opened her eyes. "We should get up. If we’re not going to sleep, it’s a bad idea to lie in bed. We’ll learn to think of bed as a place to talk, not a place to sleep."
"What, are you a headshrinker now?"
"You’re contrary today."
"I was scared today. Or yesterday, if you like." A trace of that primitive, heart-stopping fear touched him now. He’d been awakened by her shock and fear, then jolted into motion by her unconsciousness and the convulsing of her body, the rocketing of her temperature upwards. He had tried to jump out of bed, to stand and Apparate home — rules be damned, Danger needed him — only to feel his legs fail to hold him, his arms unable to push him upright, and he’d collapsed on the bedroom floor.
It was a nightmare come to life — Danger in trouble, sick and frightened, and he too weak to help her, too weak even to help himself. He would have sworn that he’d lain on the floor for hours, alternately despairing and trying frantically to get to his feet, but Sirius said that only about a minute had elapsed between the onset of Danger’s seizure and his own arrival in Remus’ bedroom.
I think I know what I’ll hear if I get too close to a dementor now.
Danger rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "I’m getting up," she murmured. "If you want to stay with me, come on."
"Slave driver." But Remus got out of his side of the bed, found his dressing gown, and followed a similarly-dressed Danger to the living room and the couch. "As if this is so much better."
"It is. It’s not the bed, so we won’t start associating the bed with long talks instead of sleeping."
"No, we associate the bed with long something else."
"A bit egotistical of you, I think."
"Pure fact, my dear, pure fact." Remus put on a lofty tone, and got the response he expected — a fist to the shoulder. "So what do you want to talk about?"
"Us."
"I still don’t see why we can’t do that in bed."
"Would you please attempt to stop thinking like Sirius for a few minutes?"
"Sorry. Being with you again seems to have given me minor testosterone poisoning."
"Thank you. I think."
Remus told his animal side to settle down for a while. He’d had ample proof that afternoon that Danger was present with him in the flesh once more. I’m human. I can control myself.
No one had ever said control would be easy, though.
"So what about us?" he asked finally.
"This... bond." Danger waved her hand through the air around them. "We’ve always known we were connected mentally. And I think we can safely say our souls are joined as well as our minds."
"The soul is the home of magic. If our magic is joined — which it is — then our souls must be."
"Good point. So that’s mentally and spiritually joined. Emotionally too, I’d certainly hope."
"Last time I checked." Remus let his hand wander into Danger’s hair.
"Get out of there. But what happened today argues for a physical bonding. Beyond the obvious, Mr. My-Mind-Is-In-The-Gutter, so don’t even start."
"I wasn’t going to say anything."
"Ha. What did you tell Letha we are? Magical symbiotes?"
"So it seems." Remus smiled to himself. Danger might have said ‘get out,’ but she was holding still as he finger-combed tangles from her hair. "Our symptoms certainly disappeared as soon as we were together again. She said herself she couldn’t find anything wrong with either of us after fifteen minutes of skin-to-skin contact."
"What do you think of her next idea?"
"Progressive intervals of being away from each other, to see when the symptoms start developing? I don’t like it, but we have to do it. We have to find out how long is safe for us to be apart. And I like Sirius’ idea of how to manage it — not to mention, it takes some of the burden for cooking off Harry. Has he really been doing all the meals since you started feeling ill?"
"Essentially. So I’ll go home tomorrow morning early and make breakfast, stay three hours and come back here, then head back for lunch and dinner, six hours, then back here for the night, and so on until we hit a time frame where we both start to show symptoms."
Remus leaned back a little, stretching his spine. "I have a guess about it. I know I didn’t start to feel physically ill until the morning after I left the Den. That would make it about twenty-four hours. What about you?"
"That sounds about right. I woke up sore the morning after you’d left, and my hands were to a point where I didn’t want to cook by that afternoon."
"So we have a tentative timetable of twenty-four hours apart for symptom onset, and gradual worsening over the next forty-eight, until after we’ve been apart for seventy-two hours we’re both exceptionally ill."
"I’d rather not replicate that."
"Nor I, and it probably won’t be necessary. But we do need to track down exactly when symptoms start showing up."
"So we know how long it’s safe for us to be away from each other." Danger sighed. "We’ve essentially been sentenced to being together for the rest of our lives."
Remus looked down at her. "What a horrendous hardship," he said levelly. "I believe I shall faint from the tremendous strain this condition places on me."
Danger made a face at him.
"Don’t stick that tongue out at me unless you intend to use it."
She squealed. "Remus!"
"We’ve established that’s my name."
"That does it." Danger stood up, wrapping her dressing gown around herself. "I’m not sitting here any longer and listening to this."
"No?"
"No. I’m going to stand at the stove and listen to it. I’m hungry."
"So am I. What are you going to make?"
"I don’t know yet. Any preferences?"
Remus grinned. He knew a cue when he heard one. "I enjoy pasta dishes, but really, anything will do."
Danger blinked once, then smiled. "Have you ever had pasta with peanut butter sauce?"
"Why, yes, actually, now that you mention it. A long time ago in a little house in Surrey, cooked by a delightful young woman — now what was her name again...?"
xXxXx
Sirius read Dumbledore’s brief note again. "Anything strike you as odd about this?" he asked Aletha and Danger.
Aletha exhaled pensively. "Where do you want me to start?"
"Begin at the beginning," advised Remus’ voice from behind her. "And go on until you reach the end. Then stop."
"Moony, that’s just scary," Sirius said.
Danger turned around and made a rude gesture. Blue eyes gleamed incongruously in her face for a moment before whirling into brown again. "That’s from both of us, by the way," she said in her own voice.
Aletha looked up at the ceiling. "Why did I tie myself up to a crowd of overgrown immature zanies?" she asked it.
"Because you love us," said Sirius.
"That’s occasionally debatable. Anyway. That letter. For one thing, he said he’d been ill. Albus is almost never ill."
"Neither am I," said Danger. "Or Remus. But we were both pretty badly off yesterday."
"But you’re nowhere near as powerful as Albus is. Forgive me, but it’s true. He can do things other people can hardly even imagine. Sometime I’d like to get a look at him with a magic-viewing spell. Even a mediocre witch or wizard has enough magic to weather most injuries better than Muggles do. I think Albus could take an avalanche in stride."
"Tell you what I find odd," said Sirius. "This thing about Snape. ‘Severus and Poppy forbid me to leave the grounds until the morrow, so I beg your indulgence until then.’ What is Snape doing taking care of him? He’s no Healer. Snape, that is."
"He might need an unusual potion," suggested Remus. "Something that requires rest to work properly. Letha, do you know of any like that?"
"One or two. It’s possible."
"So we’ll bide our time until he arrives," said Danger. "Which should be any minute now."
It wasn’t, quite, but not many minutes passed before the Floo chimed and the Pack-adults went into the music room to welcome their guest. Aletha, nearest to the fireplace, shook Dumbledore’s hand first, but instead of releasing it, she added her other hand to the clasp. "Ill, were you?" she said very politely, but with a tone in her voice Sirius recognized. It was the one she adopted when one of the cubs was trying to fob her off with an incomplete or disjointed story.
"An old man’s vanity, not wishing to advertise his foolishness," Dumbledore replied lightly. "Severus and Poppy have restored me as much as I think may be expected."
Sirius glanced at Danger, finding her eyes whirling again. He made a fist, thumb in, thumb out. What’s he talking about?
We’ll find out, Danger signed back. "Is this a private conversation, or can anyone join?" she asked aloud.
"Danger, I am glad to see you well."
"You too." As Danger shook Dumbledore’s hand, Aletha moved out of Sirius’ line of sight, and Sirius suddenly understood her earlier comment.
What did he do, try to take food from a dragon? That’s a burn if I ever saw one.
"A shame Remus cannot be here." Dumbledore’s tone now was more than it seemed — airy and nonchalant, yes, but with an undercurrent of meaning. He must have seen the blue in Danger’s eyes, and be partway to figuring out what it meant.
"I believe we all have some secrets to divulge," said Danger, still in her own voice.
"Indeed. Sirius."
"Albus." Sirius shook the Headmaster’s blackened hand, trying neither to exert too much pressure or to let the older wizard know he was trying to be gentle. Fortunately, twelve years of simultaneous fatherhood and Marauding had left him an expert on walking thin lines.
"You will forgive me if I do not tell you the full story of this injury," said Dumbledore when they had all found seats. "Suffice it to say, it has bearing on Lord Voldemort, and his eventual downfall. That is a part of the reason I have come, but mostly I am here to advise you in your present difficulties. Assuming, of course, that you wish my advice."
"We’d hardly have sent you an owl asking for your help if we didn’t," said Aletha. "Though I do find it funny that it’s almost always the males of this Pack who have to be got out of difficulties."
"Hmph," said Danger in Remus’ voice. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
The bond between the two was duly explained and demonstrated. Dumbledore didn’t seem surprised at all, Sirius noted sourly. Does anything ever startle him? "I have suspected this for quite a long time," he said. "More so since last summer, when I used Legilimency on you, Remus, and found a third mind present as well."
"And I thought I’d hidden so well," said Danger in disappointment.
"I can understand your wish to keep the bond secret, and I thank you for your trust in telling me now," Dumbledore concluded.
"You’re welcome," said Remus. "I know there may not be much you can do about me at the Ministry, but can you at least get Draco home?"
"I could endeavor to expedite a petition for return of his custody to you. However, many departments at the Ministry are swamped with work because of the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, and some members from other divisions are moving over to help those who have too much to do. Pursuing Draco’s custody at this time would not be impossible, but it might not be wise."
"So what do you suggest?" asked Sirius heatedly. "Wait until after the World Cup? That’s another month, and he’s living with the Notts! Death Eaters!"
"That is true. But they would hardly dare harm him, considering that he is in communication with you often, and through more routes than they know of, I daresay. Patroclus Nott may have been a Death Eater, but he is not a fool. It would look very bad if he were caught abusing the child supposedly sent to him for protection from abuse."
"Yes, but the operative word there is caught," said Danger. "What if he’s not caught?"
"How could he not be, if Draco is free to write to you? And if Draco’s letters cease, or if their tone changes for the worse, you would likely storm Nott Manor with fire flying from your fingertips." Dumbledore smiled. "He may not know that, but he knows that the Pack is tenacious about guarding their cubs from harm. He will not forget what happened to the last man who threatened Draco Black."
"That is true," said Aletha, forestalling Sirius. "It’s not as if Draco’s cut off from us completely. He may be unhappy there, but he won’t be harmed. And if the Ministry’s busier than usual, our petition might not make it through channels before the World Cup anyway, even with you helping us, Albus."
"That’s another thing," said Danger. "Can you afford to be seen helping us? Aren’t you already under scrutiny for hiring Remus?"
"I can always afford to be seen working for a just cause," said Dumbledore. "And I do not recommend waiting to file a petition, precisely. What I do recommend is that you not pressure the WFS office to process that petition quickly. You will thus establish a reputation as helpful people, not overly demanding."
Sirius leaned his head back. "I don’t want to be helpful and not overly demanding," he said. "I want our fox out of that damned house. Did you know Nott keeps a life-sized chess set animate at all times?"
"Arthur Weasley may wish to hear about that."
"He knows," said Danger. "Ron told him right away. They’re planning a search on Monday, as soon as they can get a writ for it. But Nott will probably get out of it somehow."
"He could claim he just left the animation spells on from the last time he played and didn’t realize he hadn’t turned them off," said Sirius. "Hell, it might even be true."
"When our petition does go through, what then?" asked Aletha.
"There will likely be a hearing, with evidence presented on both sides. The Office will have to justify their decision to take Draco from you, and you will have to prove that it would be in his best interests for him to return home. I understand they have plans to interview those who know you best."
Sirius sat up, grinning. "I want to get a transcript of Molly’s interview," he said. "She’ll take them apart like she does the twins when they track in mud."
"Frank and Alice won’t exactly be meek little lambs either," said Aletha. "Though their testimony might be given less credit, since they haven’t known us as long."
"Speaking of the Longbottoms," said Dumbledore. "There is a possibility that the ruling at the custody hearing might be split. In that case, under magical law, Draco would not be allowed to return to your home, but you would be allowed to choose a new foster home for him if you were dissatisfied with his current situation."
"Which we are," said Sirius and Aletha in chorus.
"You think we might send him to Fireflower House?" said Remus.
"I think that would be a wise choice. If the hearing board is biased against you, which may be the case, they will attempt to find reasons to bar any home you may name. The Burrow would likely be disqualified on the grounds that Draco would be an undue burden on the Weasleys, and the Landing Zone because the child of the house is a girl and not a boy."
"But no one can say Draco would burden the Longbottoms unduly," said Danger. "And Neville’s just his age. Frank and Alice have everything the Notts have — except a pile of gold and an obsession with purity of blood and Dark magic, of course."
"I think we can do without those," said Sirius, making everyone chuckle.
The talk turned to Remus’ situation. Dumbledore’s first piece of advice was much the same — wait until after the World Cup — but what he said next surprised everyone.
"You want me to try to what?"
"Have your status as Hermione’s guardian recognized under magical law," Dumbledore repeated calmly. "It is a simple request, one which should be granted without much fuss or bother. Obviously, it will not be, but the fact that it should be will weigh powerfully in your favor. As will your circumstances. This is no custody battle between a father and a mother, in which both sides have a genuine claim. Instead, it is clearly the work of an overbearing government, interfering in the lives of decent people."
"You really think that will be enough to overwhelm my being a werewolf?" Remus said doubtfully. "Magical people have an awfully strong reaction to that word."
"It will certainly be enough to make them think. And you have much in your favor. The only man you have ever admitted to attacking in your were form had tried to harm the very child you wish restored to you. You are rendered harmless on the full moons by the Wolfsbane Potion, I assume, knowing very little of your private lives..."
Sirius had to turn away for a moment to get his face under control.
"And if for some reason that precaution fails, you spend the full moons in a safe room, with three large Animagi who could control you if it became necessary." Dumbledore frowned a little. "Something must really be done regarding the Wolfsbane," he said under his breath. "Perhaps a public-assistance program... but that is a fight for another day."
"You’ll have our help when it comes around," said Aletha. "So what will we need to pull together to get ready to fight this?"
In the middle of a discussion about lawyers, the back door opened. Meghan stuck her head in. "Danger, may we have a snack?" she asked, then noticed who else was in the room. "Professor Dumbledore!"
"Hello, Meghan." Dumbledore stood up to greet the little girl. "How are you this fine day?"
"I’m all right. What happened to your hand?" Meghan reached out to touch it, then pulled back. "I’m sorry. May I? Please?"
Dumbledore looked at Aletha, who nodded. "If you wish," he said, sitting down and holding out his hand to Meghan.
"Look only, Pearl," Aletha warned quietly.
Meghan nodded, her eyes half-shut, and began to move her fingers back and forth across the back of Dumbledore’s blackened hand. Movement outside the door caught Sirius’ eye — the rest of the Pride was headed for the house. He got up, went to the door, and tapped his lips significantly with a finger before letting them in. Most of them found seats around the room — Harry, to Sirius’ annoyance, took the chair he’d been using — but Neville went straight to Meghan and placed a hand on her upper arm, where her sleeve ended.
"Bad," Meghan murmured. "You’re bad." A pause. "I don’t care if you’re doing what you were supposed to, you’re still bad." Another pause. "No, that’s wrong."
It’s like hearing one side of a conversation. But who is she talking to?
Meghan went on, pausing after every sentence as if listening to a response. "Because it is. Hurting people is wrong. Don’t be silly, I’m sure you could do something else..."
"Weeds," murmured Neville.
"Weeds," Meghan repeated. "You could work on weeds. That’s all right, we can show you. Yes, they’re alive." She frowned. "I suppose they do, somehow."
"Of course they do," said Neville matter-of-factly. "He has to eat like everybody else. And weeds make trouble for the plants that grow food."
"That’s right. So yes, that would be fighting and blighting his enemies." Meghan’s brow wrinkled, as if she were reciting something of dubious value. "And you know you can’t do anything else here. Wouldn’t it be more interesting to work on weeds? No one will stop you then."
Dumbledore was looking from boy to girl very carefully, with — am I imagining it? No, I think it’s real — with a faint tinge of surprise on his face. Well, finally. Something cracks the old man’s shell a little.
"Dadfoot," said Meghan without turning around. "Do we have any plants we don’t like? Living ones, in pots?"
"I’m sure I can find you one, Pearl. Wait here." Sirius hurried into the kitchen, Danger at his heels.
"You leave my herbs alone," she said severely, seeing him reaching for the plants on the windowsill over the kitchen sink. "I need those."
"You can replace them, Danger. I think she’s doing something to help him — maybe get that hand back to normal, or at least more normal. Is a plant worth more to you than that?"
Danger blinked, her eyes suddenly very brown indeed. "Ow," she said, rubbing the side of her head. "Fine, go for it. Take the marjoram, it’s not looking so good anyway. You can come back now." This last wasn’t addressed to him. "Extortionist."
Sirius frowned at the plants, then picked up one with woody stems about as long as his forearm and leaves like ovals with pointed ends, growing all the way up its length. Danger gave him a quick nod, and he carried it back into the music room and held it out to Neville.
"Can you put it on the floor, please, sir?" Neville asked without taking his eyes away from Meghan. Sirius set the pot down and backed away. Distracting someone who was doing delicate magical work could have extremely bad results, either comic or tragic, and he wasn’t eager to be in the middle of either.
Meghan looked up and met Dumbledore’s eyes. "Professor, can we — may we, I mean — try it? Please?"
"You have my permission." Dumbledore placed gentle stress on the possessive.
Meghan looked over her shoulder at Aletha. "Please, Mama Letha?" she said. "I think we really can."
Aletha looked torn for a second or two, then shot a glance at Sirius, one he knew well. This is all your fault. "Go ahead, Pearl," she said. "But be careful."
"Luna, I think we need you," said Neville. "You saw it last time."
"Everybody saw it who was there," said Luna, getting up and coming across to him. "But you want me to show you, right?"
Neville nodded. Luna pulled out her chain and threw it over his head, and they stood still for a moment, eyes shut. Harry signaled to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, and the four of them closed in around Dumbledore and their Pride-mates, sitting down on the floor in a rough half-circle. Aletha joined Sirius and Danger in the doorway to the kitchen, where they could see the faces of Meghan, Neville, and Luna, eyes closed in concentration.
Luna’s eyes opened first. "Do you need it again?" she asked.
"No, I think we have it. Thank you."
"You’re welcome." Luna reclaimed her chain and sat down at the end of the row, leaving a person-sized space between her and Hermione. The room had become very quiet.
Meghan’s hands moved back and forth, her right waving an invisible wand, her left making plucking and pulling motions. It looked familiar, but Sirius couldn’t quite place it. It seemed Ron could, though. His face had cleared from confusion to understanding within the first few seconds, and he’d signed something to the rest of the seated Pride, something Sirius could barely make out. It seemed the Pride had done more than just modify Marauder hand-sign.
Involves him and someone who’s not here, that was all I could get from it.
Meghan’s left hand tightened into a fist, and she and Neville knelt quickly beside the marjoram plant. Neville cupped his hand around the base of the stems, and Meghan opened her fist, letting out a breath of relief as she did. The marjoram quivered for a moment. Then its leaves began to shrivel and blacken.
Above them, Dumbledore flexed his fingers, then began to rub his injured hand with his good one. "It may never be as it was," he murmured, "but it seems it will be better than it is."
"We should take it outside right away," said Meghan. "It can’t stay in the pot, that’s not fair. We said it could have lots of things."
"You’re right." Neville started to get up, slowly. Harry was beside him immediately, offering him a hand. Hermione helped Meghan to her feet, and Ron picked up the pot, looking askance at the marjoram, which was getting blacker by the second. Ginny ran to open the back door, and they all trooped outside, Luna bringing up the rear.
"What was that?" said Danger after a moment of ringing silence.
"I think she was transferring something," said Aletha. "Like Healer Young transferred that curse."
"That is precisely what she was doing," said Dumbledore, still rubbing his hand. "My injury resulted from a curse. Severus and Poppy were able to halt its spread, but the vestiges of it remained with me, preventing any healing where it had taken hold. Meghan has removed those vestiges."
"That must have been one hell of a curse," said Sirius. "If even its remnants could do that much damage."
"It was a rather vile spell," Dumbledore allowed. "I may never regain full use of this hand, but I believe some healing will now be possible. I certainly hope its appearance can be improved. I would be loathe to look anything less than my best this year."
"And why is that?" asked Aletha.
Dumbledore smiled. "You will know soon enough, if you do not already," he said enigmatically. "And I fear you would not be able to resist telling your cubs the news, and they are not to know until the official announcement at the Opening Feast."
Something triggered in Sirius’ mind. "I heard rumors at work about the Triwizard Tournament," he said. "But that hasn’t happened in years..."
Dumbledore’s smile broadened.
xXxXx
Outside, Meghan repeated her earlier movements, this time over the marjoram first, then over a particularly nasty weed that had resisted all efforts to root it out of the garden. "There you go," she said. "You can have all the plants like this that you want. I think their roots are all connected anyway."
The plant began to shrivel immediately. Meghan smiled slightly and pressed Neville’s hand. "Thank you," she said. "You helped a lot."
"I like helping you. And I hope it’ll get as far as our house. Not even Dad can get this weed to go away."
"What did you just do?" Hermione asked Meghan, a little shrilly.
"She transferred a curse," said Ginny. "She talked it into letting go, and then she transferred it from Professor Dumbledore’s hand to the plant, and from the plant to the other plant."
"But how did you know that?"
"I knew it," said Ron. "She was doing the same as the Healer did when he took the curse off Draco and put it on me. When it’s the last thing you see for two days, you remember what it looked like."
"Why don’t I remember it, then?"
"Because you were worried about Draco," said Harry. "You were looking at him, not at what the Healer was doing."
"But I should remember. I should." Hermione was almost pouting. "I don’t forget things."
"Everybody forgets things sometimes," said Ron.
"Not me. I don’t. I shouldn’t. I can’t." Hermione’s breathing was coming faster. "I can’t forget things, I just can’t."
Harry caught Ginny’s eye. Get the grownups, he signed to her. Ginny nodded and ran inside.
Ron was staring at Hermione, who was pacing back and forth now, shaking her hands out as if ridding herself of cramps. Luna knelt beside Meghan and Neville, looking closely at the blackened weed in the middle of the garden. Harry took a deep breath and stepped in front of Hermione. "Stop it," he said.
"Stop what?"
"Stop doing this. You don’t have to remember everything. It’s not something wrong with you if you don’t."
"Yes it is!" Hermione shouted. "I’m not supposed to forget!"
"Says who?" asked Ron, joining Harry. "You can’t remember everything, Neenie."
"I can too. And don’t call me that."
"Neenie," said Harry quickly. If he could just get her mad about something else... "Pretty Neenie."
"Sweetie Neenie." Ron was grinning.
"Cutie Neenie."
"Ickle Neeniekins."
Hermione shrieked with rage and leapt on Ron. Harry caught her around the waist and yanked her off, only to have her turn and scratch at his face. He let her go to shield himself, and Ron grabbed her instead, until she kicked at his legs, dropping him to the ground. Harry slammed his shoulder into her with carefully calculated force, knocking her down without (he hoped) actually hurting her, and Ron rolled over and pinned her with his hands on her shoulders. She screamed, writhing angrily under his hands, aiming kicks at him until Harry sat down on her legs.
"Stop it, Hermione," he said firmly. "Stop it now."
"Let her up, you two," said Danger, kneeling beside them. "Hermione, they’re right. You need to settle down."
"I don’t want to settle down! People are gone and I’m forgetting things and I can’t talk to Draco any more until Tuesday and everything is all wrong!"
"I know you don’t want to settle down. But you have two choices. Settle or be settled." Danger displayed her wand. "Your choice."
Hermione sniffled twice, then relaxed. Ron took his hands away and got up quickly. Harry stood up as well, signing thanks to Ginny, who was standing nearby. "Wonder what happened," he said to Ron as they moved out of Hermione’s earshot.
"Dunno. Maybe she misses Draco."
Harry snapped his fingers. "Draco. That’s it."
Ron looked oddly at him. "Harry, he’s been gone for three days."
"Three days, I know. And that’s just when Danger got ill with Moony gone. Three days after he left. Draco and Hermione’s bond isn’t the same, but it’s still a bond. Maybe that’s what’s making her act like this."
"Or maybe she’s just in a bad mood," said Ginny, joining them. "People do have those sometimes when there isn’t any magic involved. She might be mad that the jewel connection closed so fast when you got that phone call. She barely had time to tell him everything was all right and say goodbye before it snapped."
Harry shrugged. "I still think she’d be better if she had some way to see him," he said. "Be with him for a little while. I’d like to see him too, but I think she needs it."
"So let’s come up with something," said Ron. "Maybe she could turn cat and go stay with him for a couple days that way."
"But how would she get there?" objected Ginny. "Cats can’t Floo, and she can’t Apparate."
Luna came over to join them. "Meghan and Neville are going to need to go to bed," she said. "What are you talking about?"
"You," said Harry, the beginnings of a plan appearing in his mind. "Or we will be." Behind Luna, Padfoot picked up Meghan, while Professor Dumbledore helped Neville to his feet. Letha came out the door with two vials of a potion in her hands, probably a restorative. "Let’s go someplace private."
"Wait for me," Hermione called when they were halfway out of the yard. She came running after them, scrubbing at her cheeks with a hand. "I’m sorry," she said to Ron and Harry. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."
"’Sall right," said Ron casually. "You don’t hit that hard anyway."
"It’s fine, Hermione," said Harry, quickly interposing himself between them before Hermione could turn the statement into a lie. "Come on, we’re plotting and planning how to do things we’re not supposed to."
"When are we ever not?"
xXxXx
Frank Longbottom came over to the Den to collect his sleeping son. "Every time he goes out with your lot, he comes home like this," he said, shaking his head. "It’s probably bad for him."
"And yet you still let him go out," said Danger.
"Who am I to keep him from his friends? I just need to encourage them to come over to our place more."
"So that they can do strange magic and fall asleep under your eye instead of ours," said Aletha.
"Exactly." Frank leaned Neville against him and gripped his arm tightly. "Our interview at WFS is tomorrow," he said. "Alice is home working out what we should and shouldn’t tell them. We’ll let you know how it went."
"Thanks," said Sirius as Frank Disapparated. He looked at Dumbledore. "And now, back to our regularly scheduled program?"
"A Muggle metaphor." Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "How unexpected from you, Sirius."
"Oh, Sirius is getting to be quite the expert on Muggle technology," said Danger. "He can even figure out which end of the telephone to talk into now. Usually."
"They look the same," Sirius muttered. "Both funny shapes with little holes in them."
"Was there something else you wanted to ask us, Albus?" said Aletha politely, though her lips kept twitching upwards at the ends. "I thought you had said there was another reason for your coming here."
"Yes." Dumbledore brushed at his robes. "I would ask your permission to take Harry to tea with an old friend of mine."
Sirius frowned, confused. "You want our permission to take Harry to tea?" he said. "Why would you think we’d say no?"
"Because of the conditions attached. Harry must agree to this expedition as well, after I have explained the circumstances to him fully. And I would ask that you not question him about his experience if he consents."
"Why all the secrecy?" asked Aletha. "I know, it’s a secret. But can you give us a general category that the secret falls into?"
"The same category," said Dumbledore, "as this." He extended his injured hand.
"Voldemort," said Danger quietly. "Something to do with Voldemort."
"Yes."
Sirius chewed his lip for a moment. "Harry is the one who eventually has to deal with Voldemort," he said. "Face to face, one-on-one. We can’t stop that, no matter how much we’d like to. I vote aye."
"Harry’s sensible, most of the time," said Aletha. "And you’ll be with him, Albus. Aye."
"What’s going to happen to him at tea?" asked Danger. "Aye."
"He has to start sometime," said Remus’ voice. "I wish he didn’t, but he does. Four ayes, no dissent."
"I thank you," said Dumbledore formally, standing. "And on that note, I shall take no more of your time. Please thank Meghan for me when she wakens — I will thank her myself when I see her next, but two sets of thanks will not harm her."
"Apart from giving her a big head," said Sirius, standing up to shake Dumbledore’s hand again. It did feel a bit better, stronger under his grip. "But being the youngest will counteract that, I think."
"It always does," said Aletha. "Goodbye, Albus, we’ll be in touch."
"Thank you for coming," said Danger. "You go to a lot of trouble for us."
"Trouble for which I am more than adequately compensated at every turn," said Dumbledore with a smile. "I shall contact you with more details about tea. Farewell."
xXxXx
"I have never harmed any of my children," said Sirius for what felt like the millionth time, carefully resisting the urge to roll his eyes or talk through gritted teeth. "Or my wife, or my friends."
"Yes, but can you prove that?"
Sirius took two deep breaths before answering. I’d better never meet you outside this office, Curcio, or I’ll hex you so hard your head spins around. "I don’t know. I haven’t kept documented evidence of every moment I’ve ever spent with them."
"There’s a very simple way to tell," said a casewitch. "One I’m a little surprised you haven’t used already, Curcio. We’ll simply watch them interact, see how they act towards each other."
"Oh, really," Curcio scoffed. "As if he’d be foolish enough to do anything actionable here."
"He might not. But the children’s behavior will tell us much."
"And if he’s already warned them, the way he warned the other boy? Threatening their very lives if they don’t behave as he wants them to?"
"I wasn’t threatening his life," said Sirius, fed up. "I was reminding him that if he shot his mouth off, you might decide to take him away. Which you did anyway, so I might as well have kept my mouth shut. What were you doing, having me watched on the off chance I might say something that would give you the excuse to take him?"
Curcio jerked in surprise. Not much — only a trained eye would have seen it — but he was startled by what Sirius had said.
He was. This was all planned. Even if I hadn’t said that in the Atrium, they would have found some other way, some other excuse to take him...
Thank God Remus remembered about Hermione in time.
Danger, Sirius, and Aletha had signed, in blood, a document stating that Sirius and Aletha were Hermione’s guardians should Danger ever become unavailable. This covered for those times when Danger might be staying with Remus, leaving Hermione at the Den. Since Danger was Hermione’s sister, a blood relation in the first degree, her word was absolute unless there was proof that Hermione was being abused where she was.
And if they find proof of abuse at the Den, I’ll eat my manuscripts. All of them.
"I doubt any casewizard would so lower himself, Mr. Black," the casewitch said testily. She looked familiar, but Sirius couldn’t quite place her. "As I was saying, you have vigorously denied abusing your children. Will you agree to an observation period?"
"Gladly," said Sirius. Anything to convince you people to leave us alone.
A different casewitch showed him to a comfortable room with one mirrored wall. Sirius looked at it dubiously for a moment, then touched his fingertip to it. There was no gap between his nail and his nail’s reflection.
It’s a window. Well, they did say observation. Sirius grinned. He could think of a lot of fun places to take this.
"Dadfoot!" screamed a voice, and Meghan slammed into him from behind, shoving him up against the glass.
They want to observe, I’ll give them something to observe. Bug on the windscreen. Sirius flattened his face against the mirror and crossed his eyes, letting himself slide downwards.
"He’s my prisoner!" crowed Meghan, sitting on Sirius’ back. "I got him!" Sirius squirmed, making Meghan smack the back of his head. "Stop that. Harry, Hermione, help me, quick, before he gets away."
A heavier weight than Meghan’s landed on Sirius’ legs, and a shadow fell across his head. He looked up to see Harry. "Need some help?" the boy asked, indicating the two giggling girls perched on Sirius.
"Oh, all I can get."
Harry promptly grabbed Meghan and dragged her off Sirius’ back. Hermione lunged forward to grab her sister, and Sirius took advantage of the lessening of weight to yank his legs out from beneath her and get away.
Roughhousing’s probably not the best idea right now. But what can we do —
Ah. Got it.
"All right, that’s enough now," he said when the cubs had worked off a little energy. "Everyone gather ‘round who wants to hear a story."
Immediately he had an audience. Even Harry was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of his chair, looking up at him eagerly.
"This is a tale of the long ago," Sirius began, signing as he spoke. Mirror is a window. Behave. The cubs all nodded gravely. "A tale of the long ago and the far away."
Harry imitated a trumpet playing the first few bars of the Star Wars theme. Hermione and Meghan joined in, adding some of the other instrumental parts.
"Not that long ago and far away," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "A little closer to home. In this long ago and far away, there lived a lovely maiden, a simple village girl, who dreamed of adventure and romance, but knew her life would likely be much as her mother’s had been, having babies and tending the inn where they lived. And then one day, an armored knight rode into their village, and the maiden’s whole life changed..."
xXxXx
"Are you in a safe relationship, dear?"
Aletha stared at the elderly casewitch. I cannot just have heard her right. "I’m sorry?"
"Do you feel safe at home? You can feel free to tell me, none of this will go any farther than this room."
"Why would I not feel safe at home?"
"Well, your fingers — they seem to have some odd burns on them..."
Aletha glanced at her hands. They sported two burns at the moment, better than her usual average of four. "I brew potions," she said. "When you work with hot cauldrons, sometimes you get burned."
"And your leg — forgive me, but I couldn’t help noticing your scars..."
"I got those playing Quidditch when I was sixteen years old." Suddenly, light dawned. "Are you asking me if I’m being abused?"
"Well, we try to avoid that terminology — some women have bad reactions to it..."
"No," said Aletha firmly. "I am not being abused in any way, shape, or form. Nor are our children. If Sirius ever raised his hand to the children in anger, I would personally make sure that he couldn’t raise anything for at least a month. And that would be before I sued him for a divorce and more than half of everything he’s got. No. Nothing like that has ever happened in our house."
The casewitch blinked, seemingly startled by Aletha’s vehemence. "I — I see," she said. "Very well. I’ll just put ‘Yes’ for safe relationship, then."
Aletha had to bite her lip almost to the point of drawing blood to keep from laughing in the woman’s face.
xXxXx
"Well, I feel rather foolish. There’s absolutely no evidence of abuse in any of these three cases," said Casewitch Felicity Davidson, flipping through her files. "And no good evidence of abuse in Draco Black’s case either..."
"Draco Black’s case is still mine," interjected Christopher Curcio smoothly. "And I still say he’s safer where he is. These people are tricky, Davidson, very tricky. They lived with a werewolf for all those years — who’s to say they’re not using some Dark magic on the children to force the answers we want to hear?"
"A bit paranoid, aren’t you, Curcio? We’re trained to notice anomalies, and I noticed none. Marcia?"
"The only person in danger of being abused in that house is Sirius Black himself," said Casewitch Marcia Hamilton, chuckling. "His wife was quite vehement about that. I felt rather a fool myself when I was finished there. Why don’t you just send the Black boy home, Curcio? Or at least give his case a review?"
"It wouldn’t be proper at this time," Curcio said firmly. "His guardians are filing a petition to have his custody returned to them, very well, but it has to go through proper channels. Unless his mother suddenly returns from the dead, we have to follow procedure for children with undetermined guardians."
"You know, I don’t think we’ve ever seen that contract you claim is flawed," said Davidson suddenly, frowning. "And all we have is the evidence from the trial that Lupin signed it. What if he’s telling the truth, and the boy was just misled or mistaken about that?"
"He’s lying," said Curcio certainly. "If that contract has only three signatures on it, they’ve altered it somehow. Which would make it void just as surely as Lupin’s signature on there. They’re not pushing for Draco to be returned to them, you notice. Could that be because they fear having the contract examined? At this point, we have done our duty, and matters can continue as they are until that petition comes through."
"As long as it does come through." Hamilton looked at him suspiciously. "What do you have against these people, Curcio?"
"Nothing against them personally. I merely hate seeing abusers go unpunished."
He had a hard time keeping from laughing aloud as he mouthed those words. Of course he hated to see abusers go unpunished. Most of them didn’t go nearly far enough.
I smile and nod, make the right gestures, serve my clients well to build my reputation in this time of peace. But should my master ever rise again...
Then — ah, then he would be in a position to rebuild their ranks with the most violent witches and wizards in Britain, those most willing to rise up and fight for a new day, the day of the strong, the day of the powerful.
The day of the Dark Lord.
Giving those Dark creatures who knew their proper place a steady supply of half-breed and Mudblood children would be even more pleasurable than helping to find new recruits. But for the moment, reclaiming purebloods from mongrels and fools like Lupin, who dared pretend to be human, made a good start.
Nott will show the boy the truth. He’ll be ours by the time that petition comes through, and beg to stay where he is. Perhaps even reclaim his proper ancestral name...
xXxXx
Theodore yawned as he sat in the corner of the library. He would rather have been somewhere else, but this was where Black was, and his father wanted him to keep an eye on Black as long as Lovegood was here.
Loony Lovegood. The Slytherins called her that, but never where any Gryffindors could hear. No one could forget that embarrassing incident in first year. Theo’s face heated. Four of them, three with wands, and they trounced all ten of us. We never even got a spell in edgewise.
And as if Lovegood being here wasn’t bad enough, she’d brought a cat. Its markings were pretty, Theo had to admit grudgingly — its face was all white, its chest black, and the top of its head down to its shoulders was orange. The rest of its body was covered in random splotches of those three colors. Half the things Black said were directed at the cat rather than at Lovegood, and he would sometimes pause for a moment, then laugh, as if an invisible person had told him a joke.
He’s just weird. But I knew that already.
And I know he had something to do with those people from Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. His father had spent several uncomfortable hours on Monday dealing with Arthur Weasley and a team of MLE personnel. But how could he have? There wasn’t anything in his letters about the chess set. And none of the pieces remembered him — how could he have seen them if he wasn’t in the room?
The cat leapt from Black’s arms and raced out of the room. "She does that sometimes," said Lovegood. "Nott?"
"What do you want?" said Theo as rudely as he dared. His father frowned on open rudeness to pureblood guests, even odd ones.
"Is anyone in your family allergic to cats?"
"No. Why?"
"Because when Neenie runs off like that, I usually can’t find her," said Lovegood. "Not until she wants to be found. She might have to spend the night here, if I can’t find her before I leave."
"I’ll take care of her," said Black. "I think she likes me." He and Lovegood exchanged conspiratorial smiles. "Come on, Luna, I want to show you the herb garden."
Theo rolled his eyes, but got up and followed them.
They’re holding hands. I think I’m going to throw up.
Halfway down the stairs, Lovegood turned to look at him. "You don’t have to stay with us all the time, you know," she said. "We’re not going to run away."
"It’s my duty as a host not to leave my guests to fend for themselves," said Theo, forcing himself not to clench his teeth. "I’d be rude if I left you alone."
But when they got outside, he found a bench at the very border of the herb garden.
There. Now they’re not alone, but I don’t have to listen to them.
xXxXx
Luna gravitated to the beds of herbs Draco had picked sprigs from a few days before, rubbing some of their leaves between her fingers and sniffing. She plucked a long, furry, green leaf from one plant and offered it to him. He took it, but she didn’t let go right away, tugging gently at its other end. He grinned and tugged back. "I’ve missed you," he said.
"I’ve missed you too." She let go of the leaf. "You might have to stay here until after the Quidditch World Cup, you know."
"I know. But it’s not too bad. As long as I stay out of everyone’s way, they mostly leave me alone. And I know they’re going to the Cup, so I’ll get to go anyway." Draco frowned. "But Nott keeps talking about how hard it is to get tickets for the Top Box, how he and his dad were lucky to get two, and I’ll probably have to sit lower down, if they can get me a seat at all..."
"But you have a seat in the Top Box," said Luna. "With Harry and Hermione and the Weasleys."
Draco thumped his hand against his forehead. "I’m so stupid." He glanced at Nott, sitting sullenly at the edge of the garden. "You know, I don’t think I’ll tell him about that," he said. "I’ll just follow him and his daddy all the way up. And when we get there and they try to tell me to go away..."
"You can just push right past them and go sit with the Pride." Luna giggled. "I like that."
Draco looked at the crushed sage leaf in his palm. "I like it too," he said. "I wish you were coming to the Cup."
Luna shrugged. "Dad’s saving for another trip this Christmas," she said. "And I wouldn’t have been able to sit with you anyway. So it’s just as well."
Draco sighed. "I haven’t even been here a week, and it feels like forever," he said quietly. "There are times I feel like I’m forgetting what the Den looks like. What the Pack and the Pride all look like. It’s so hard to remember sometimes."
Luna stooped to brush her hand against the tops of green leaves. "You’ll remember," she said. "Don’t worry." She hummed a note under her breath, then began to sing. Her voice was every bit as sweet as Draco remembered, and the song was the one he’d been thinking of himself when he had plucked herbs from this garden only a few days ago.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Remember me to one who lives there,
For he was once a true love of mine.
Draco took the second verse.
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
Luna harmonized with him on the second line, weaving in a high descant.
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Draco took the melody alone again.
Sewn without seams or fine needlework,
For then she’ll be a true love of mine.
Luna sang once more.
Tell him to find me an acre of land,
Now Draco added a low harmony to her melody.
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Between the salt water and the sea sand,
For then he’ll be a true love of mine.
For the few minutes the song lasted, Draco could forget where he was, forget what was wrong in his life, forget everything bad that had happened. All that existed was his voice, and hers, and the savory smell of the herbs they held in their hands. The final verse was sung together, first one voice taking the melody, then the other.
When we have done and finished our work,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Luna slid her hand along Draco’s shoulder.
Then come you to me for your cambric shirt,
For then you’ll be a true love of mine,
Only remembering that Nott was still watching them kept Draco from transferring luck with her then and there. He joined her on the repeated last line instead.
For then you’ll be a true love of mine.
xXxXx
Theo stood up quickly as his father came out of the house. "Mr. Lovegood has called, Theodore. He wishes Miss Lovegood to come home."
"I’ll tell them, Father." Theo hesitated a second, but he’d be in more trouble for not telling than for telling. "Father, Lovegood’s—"
"Manners, Theodore."
"Miss Lovegood’s cat ran away from her. It’s somewhere in the house. She says it does this often, and usually it can’t be found when it does. Black has said he’ll take care of it when it comes out, until she can come back for it."
His father frowned. "Are you sure you don’t wish your cat found immediately, Miss Lovegood?" he said, stepping into the herb garden. "I can send Brilly—"
"Neenie bites, sir," said Lovegood politely. "And scratches. But that’s only if you try to make her come out. And she never hides for more than a few hours. I trust Draco to take care of her until tomorrow."
"Is this agreeable to you, Draco?"
"Yes, sir." Black actually looked happy about it, Theo noticed. "I like Neenie."
"Very well, I leave it to you, then. You may care for the cat and inform Miss Lovegood when it is found."
"I will, sir." Black looked at Lovegood. "Bye, Luna," he said.
"Goodbye, Draco."
They both brushed their hands down their faces and touched each other’s cheeks. Theo looked away.
Next thing you know, they’ll be kissing...
xXxXx
Sirius stared at Aletha, not sure he’d heard right. "Isn’t lupus a mostly Muggle disease?"
"Yes."
"Rare among witches and wizards."
"Yes."
"But you’re saying everyone with lupus is actually a carrier for lycanthropy?"
"That’s right."
"I don’t understand."
"Neither do I. But the tests always come out the same. Lupus is the way the carrier form of lycanthropy manifests itself in the human body."
"So could anyone with lupus bite someone and make them a werewolf?"
Aletha shook her head, smiling wryly. "Not unless they’re an Animagus. It might even be necessary to be a wolf Animagus, but I don’t know that for sure. What I do know is that Danger’s saliva only tests for contamination when she’s in wolf form. Her human form is as safe as it ever was."
"A debatable point." Sirius rubbed the back of his hand.
"Just because she won’t let you snitch before dinner is no reason to make a fuss."
"How did you find this out, anyway?"
"I backtracked a few magical cases of lupus and found preserved samples, and tracked down a few current patients and asked them if they’d donate some blood to a project. They all react the same way — half as violently as actual werewolf samples. There are differences, of course. People with lupus don’t have much of a reaction to silver, which is probably why this has never been noticed before. The silver test is the gold standard for lycanthropy, if you’ll pardon the pun."
Sirius groaned. "Do I have to? That was awful."
Aletha ignored him. "So I tried some of the more intricate spells with the samples from the lupus patients, and they showed a dimmer or smaller version of the lycanthropy positive. It’s possible, even likely, that lupus is transferred human to human, and that’s why cases in the magical community are so rare — most magical people shun werewolves, so they often live among Muggles."
"But is it just touch transference? It can’t be, or you and I would have had it long before now, being around Remus for so long."
"No, I think it’s bodily fluids. It might even be that if you’re bitten by a werewolf, you become a werewolf, but if you come in contact with a werewolf’s blood, or something else, you contract lupus. I really don’t know."
"Someone must have known about this at some point." Sirius picked at a small dent in the table. "I mean, look at the name of the damn thing. It can’t have been unknown forever."
"No, but it was unknown to us, here and now. Until now." Aletha sat down beside Sirius, a resigned smile tugging her lips upward. "I am going to have such a reputation by the time I graduate."
"Your own fault for being too smart."
"Too smart for what?"
"Your own good."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, really. So you’d better lower your intelligence right away."
"And how would you suggest I do that?"
"Well, you could put your head in close contact with a stupid person. Maybe some brains would migrate."
"Good plan. There’s only one problem."
"What?"
"I don’t see any stupid people around here."
Sirius opened his mouth to protest that he was, too, stupid, then closed it again. "Did I just outsmart myself?" he asked wistfully.
"It’s not terribly hard to do." Aletha chuckled. "Although it is amusing to watch."
Sirius put his head down on the table. "I can’t do anything right," he told the wood grain by his left eye. "Not even call myself names."
"You’d better get a brain transplant," said Aletha above him. A firm hand caught the back of his collar and pulled gently. "I think I could find you a donor."
"Is that full brain or just partial?"
"Partial, definitely."
"Will I get a discount?"
"Discount? For what?"
"I’d be willing to pay full price for new brains, but these are going to be used."
Aletha bristled up for an instant, then rolled her eyes and shoved him, laughing. "You’re horrible."
"But you knew that when you married me."
"No, I only thought I did. I’ve been rediscovering it every day since."
"Would you care to rediscover it a little right now?"
"I thought you’d never ask."