Dealing with Danger
Chapter 2: Learn Your Lessons Well (Year 3)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 2: Learn Your Lessons Well
How was it possible to be detached from everything, and still be so perfectly aware of it all, Draco wondered? He could hear everyone breathing; he had the feeling if he listened hard enough, he could hear their hearts beating. He could certainly hear his own. It sounded like Ron when he was in a really good mood, whaling away at his drums.
For an instant, he was eleven again, standing on a promontory and looking at a man he hadn’t seen in years, a man who had spoken casually of claiming him and changing him, of turning him into someone else, something else. Even then, he had been frightened, although deep inside him he’d known that it wasn’t real, couldn’t be real, and Danger’s arrival had only confirmed that.
Now, it could be real.
His father had escaped.
"How did they get out?" asked Harry, breaking into Draco’s reverie.
Padfoot shook his head. "No one knows yet. It’s being investigated, and they’ll be keeping us updated on everything that happens. For right now, you four, stay inside. We’ve already done some preliminary warding on the house. You should be safe in here."
"We’ll get wards on the boundaries of our property as soon as we possibly can, so you can go outside," added Letha. "And your friends may still come and visit, if their parents allow it. You’re just not allowed to visit their houses until further notice."
"Will we still do training?" asked Meghan.
"You certainly will," said Danger. "Less spellwork, since we’re indoors, but we have room enough for a little tumbling in the music room, if you do it one pair at a time. And the book work continues, of course."
Hermione looked smug.
"Understand this, cubs," said Moony. "You are as safe as we can make you. But we promised a long time ago that we would not lie to you if we could possibly avoid it. So I’m going to tell you a truth you may not like, because I think — we think — that you are old enough to hear it and understand it. As safe as we can make you might not be safe enough. It is still possible that someone with ill intent towards you might come here, and might find a way to bypass or destroy the safeguards we put up."
I don’t want to hear this. Though Draco appreciated the courtesy of being treated like an adult, he felt that he would rather have had the childish fantasy that his Pack could protect him from all dangers prolonged for another week, another day, another hour, anything.
But isn’t it better to know? To be ready?
"What we ask of you is what we have always asked. Obey the rules. In return, we will keep those rules as light as we may, and try to explain why we need things done, if we can and if there is time. If we give you an order without explanation, please, don’t argue, and don’t ask questions. Your lives could hang on our being obeyed immediately. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry quietly. Hermione and Meghan echoed him.
Moony looked at Draco. Draco met his Pack-father’s eyes. "I understand, sir," he said.
"Good. Go find things to do for an hour or two. You can have something to eat on your own, but we won’t be eating as a Pack until then. After that, get into training clothes and meet in the music room."
"Pearl, you come with me," said Letha, standing up. "We’re going to go over that breathing exercise again."
"Is Ron allowed to come over?" asked Harry.
"That’s what we’re going to find out," said Padfoot. "I’m headed for the Burrow to talk with Molly about it. The wards we put up shouldn’t be affected by how many people are in the house."
"Then why did Neville have to leave?" Meghan wanted to know.
"His grandmother felt he would be safer staying at home and just visiting us, like Luna and the Weasleys do," said Danger.
The words entered Draco’s ears, his brain made sense of them, but his mind seemed disengaged and confused. Danger’s statement triggered the first coherent reaction he’d had since Moony had dismissed them.
Luna.
What is she going to think? What is her father going to think?
It’s dangerous to be around me now. I’m a target. Anyone who likes me could be a target too.
Unbidden, the memory rose in him of his giving his father the names of all his friends. His fists clenched until his fingernails bit into his palms. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I handed my enemy a list and said, "Here, hurt these people and you’ll hurt me. I’ll be safe, but they won’t. So go right ahead and go after them."
If anything happened to Neville, Meghan would never forgive me. If anything happened to Luna, I would never forgive me. And if something happened to Ron or Ginny... Merlin, there’s so many Weasleys my father would never find a piece of me.
The thought of Lucius Malfoy being balked of his revenge on his son by an angry mob of redheads who felt their claim should come first made him smile a little.
I’d rather be killed by them than by him.
"Knut for your thoughts," said Danger, sitting down beside him and offering him the bronze coin.
"Not worth it," said Draco, trying to smile at her.
"Try me."
Draco shook his head.
"All right, your choice. But if you do want to talk about this, you know where to find us." Danger pushed her chair back and got ready to stand up.
"What about the others?" Draco blurted. "Luna, and Ron and Ginny, and Neville. Are they going to be safe?"
Danger frowned, as if considering her answer carefully. "I have to give you the same answer again," she said. "They’ll be as safe as possible. Their families will take extra precautions, but so will every family right now. Tell me this — why would you think they wouldn’t be?"
"Because... he..." Draco didn’t want to say it, but he’d have to acknowledge it sooner or later. "My father. What if he goes after them to hurt me?"
"How would he know who your friends are?"
"I told him. In that dream you said we shared. You remember."
"I do remember. But you need to remember that he doesn’t know that was anything more than a dream. And that was almost two years ago. Besides..." Danger traced a pattern of wood grain on the tabletop with a finger. "I don’t know quite how to put this without making you feel worse."
"I’m a big boy now. Just tell me."
"You said yourself, after that dream, that — Lucius, why don’t we call him — wanted you to be his son again, and that he would prefer that you came to him willingly. He’s unlikely to hurt your friends if he wants to regain your confidence."
"But if that’s the only way he can get me, he would, wouldn’t he?"
"He might. But he doesn’t yet know that."
"But he will. He’s not stupid. He’ll start finding out about me, who I live with, who I’m friends with, and he’ll see the dream couldn’t have been coincidence, and then he’ll hurt someone, or even kill them..."
"Not if we can stop him first," said Danger firmly, cutting through Draco’s rising panic. "And within a month, you’ll all be back at school. We’re going to make the Den as safe as we can, but Hogwarts will be even safer. Right?"
Draco sighed. "Right."
"So, you go find something to do until lessons start. Eat something, breakfast’s going to be late. And don’t worry too much. It doesn’t help anything, and it puts wrinkles on your face." Danger covered his hand briefly with hers, pressed it, then stood up and left the kitchen.
Find something to do. Eat. Don’t worry. Got it.
Yeah, right.
He shoved his chair out and headed for the stairs. He wasn’t hungry, and anything he could think of to do seemed pointless. He wasn’t even really sure where he was going. He only knew one thing for certain. He wanted to be alone.
For a miracle, Harry wasn’t in their bedroom. Draco wondered for a moment if the girls would be sleeping in with them again, now that Neville had gone home, but found he didn’t care. His bed remained his bed, at the moment unmade. He flopped down on top of it, yanking one uncomfortable wrinkle straight underneath him, then rolled over and stared at the ceiling.
So he probably won’t go after Luna or Neville or the Weasleys. At least not right away. That was one comfort.
The corollary to this was less comforting. He’ll come straight for me. And Moony as good as admitted the Pack’s no match for him. He beat them once, it was only because Narcissa — my mother — helped them that they got away.
Draco fished his pendants out of his shirt and rubbed his callused thumb over the embossed flower on his first pendant, thinking of the thin, aristocratic woman he knew from photographs.
And one memory. I might have made it up, I’ve heard the story enough times, but I think I do remember her. Saying goodbye. She cried, and that confused me. Father used to say only babies cried.
It really wasn’t fair that he had more certain memories of his father than he did of his mother, Draco thought. The person I wish I had known, and could remember, I can’t. And the person I’d like nothing better than to forget...
There are days I really envy Ron. The worst thing he has in his family is his mum’s second cousin, the accountant, and Percy the Prat for a brother. Or Neville. He has to hate seeing his parents like that, but at least he knows they loved him, and his gran and all her relatives only come down hard on him because they think it’s good for him.
Or even Harry. He can’t remember his parents at all, but he knows they fought for him. And he has a stupid cousin in Slytherin, who used a hexed bat on him by accident. That’s the worst he has to deal with. I’m the only one with a homicidal father. It is not fair.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, and fumed. I wish someone else knew what it felt like, to know there’s a maniac out there who wants you, and only you, and doesn’t care who else he hurts, as long as he can get at you...
Some time later, someone kicked at the door.
"Go away."
"It’s my room too," said Harry’s voice.
"Fine, come in."
"My hands are full."
Draco grumbled under his breath, but got up and opened the door. Harry came in, carrying a tray.
"What’s that?"
"It’s called food. You eat it."
"Very funny."
"Thank you. I thought you might want some breakfast, and you might not want the girls all over you."
Draco shrugged, then took another look at the tray as Harry set it down. "There’s a lot there," he said.
"Danger said we could both eat up here if we don’t make a mess. Mind if I join you?"
"Like you said, it’s your room too."
Harry didn’t answer, instead starting to load his plate. Draco followed his lead, and they ate in silence for a little while.
"It’s really awful, isn’t it?" asked Harry when they were both starting to slow down.
"What?"
"Sitting around and wondering when he’s going to show up, if he’ll go for someone else first or just you, if there’s any way to stop him, what he’s going to want."
Draco stared at his brother. "Are you reading my mind?"
"No."
"Then how the hell did you know that?"
Harry set down his fork and lifted his bangs to display the famous lightning bolt scar.
Draco wanted to bash his head against the wall. He settled for his plate as the nearest hard object and immediately regretted it. "I feel stupid right now," he said into the ceramic.
"You look stupid right now too. Here."
Draco lifted his face enough to see that Harry was offering him a napkin. He took it and started wiping ketchup off his forehead.
That was dumb of me. Not sticking my face in my breakfast — though that was pretty dumb — but acting like I’m the only one this ever happened to. Harry’s The Boy Who Lived. Who would know better than him what it’s like to have someone out for your blood? Voldemort’s tried to kill him twice now — three times, actually, once when he was a baby. He’s had someone after him his entire life.
"I felt like this first year," said Harry. "After we found out Voldemort was in the Forest, and probably after the Sorcerer’s Stone. I hated it. Waiting’s actually harder than fighting, I think. Once you’re fighting, there isn’t time to be scared. There isn’t time for anything except staying alive. But while you’re waiting, you get to think of everything that could go wrong, and everything bad that could happen, and it’s the worst thing in the world."
"Yeah," said Draco. "It is." You know. You understand. I’m not totally alone. I’m not the only one.
"I wrote home about some of it then. I thought I was being smart and not giving anything away, just asking some questions about what if this and what if that. Padfoot saw through it and wrote back telling me if I let Voldemort psych me out, I lost. That his goal was not just to get at me directly, but to stop me from having a normal life, from having fun or enjoying myself at all. And if I let him, he won."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Subtle is still not your strong point, Harry."
Harry grinned. "It doesn’t need to be subtle. It just needs to work. And you don’t look like you’re expecting the roof to fall in on you anymore. So it worked, didn’t it?"
"Yes. Yes, you damned cheerful bastard, it worked. I feel much better. La-de-da-de-da, let’s all go have a dance. Happy now?"
"Yes. Very. And if you don’t want that bacon, I’ll take it."
Draco threw it at him.
xXxXx
Ron and Ginny arrived after breakfast and Luna a few minutes later for a tabletop strategy exercise utilizing an amazingly complicated rule system designed to make it more realistic. Ron would have been happy playing it all day, Draco thought. None of them indicated that their parents had made any fuss over them coming to the Den as usual.
Neville rejoined them for lunch, looking slightly harassed. "A couple of my great-aunts were over visiting," he said. "I had to go through ‘Oh, look how much you’ve grown!’ and ‘My dear, you look so much like your mother’ and ‘A third year already, imagine that’ and everything."
"We have an Auntie Muriel," said Ginny. "She always gives us these big sloppy kisses every time she comes to visit, and Mum won’t let us go wash our faces until after she’s gone."
"Are you sure she’s not a Leirumant in disguise?" asked Luna. "They give sloppy kisses because they’re really using their magic to see if any of your teeth are loose, and if they are, the Leirumant knows to wait around your house until it falls out, because that’s what they eat. I think Muggles even know about Leirumants. They call them something else, though."
Draco quickly took a large bite of chicken sandwich so as not to laugh at Ron’s face as he absorbed the thought of his aunt being one of Luna’s creatures.
When they had cleaned up from lunch, they all trooped into the music room, where all the furniture had been pushed back against the walls. Moony and Padfoot were waiting for them there.
"Today, as you all know, is Harry’s thirteenth birthday," said Moony. "And some years ago, we made a promise to Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Meghan that we would teach them a certain skill when they turned thirteen. Now, Hermione’s not thirteen yet, and Meghan won’t be for three more years. Ginny and Luna, you’re a little young for this too. But from the way you eight behave, there’s no point in trying to leave any of you out of anything, because you’ll just teach each other. So we went to all your parents and got permission to teach you this."
"This is even more secret than the physical training," said Padfoot. "Because this is actually illegal. If anyone found out we were teaching you this, they’d have our heads on a platter and you four in foster care quicker than you can say Furnunculus Curse."
"What is it?" asked Ron, who had started looking interested the moment Padfoot had mentioned it was illegal.
Moony and Padfoot took a step away from each other, and both transformed into animal shape, Moony into the lion, Padfoot into the huge dog. A moment later, they were human again. "Animagi," said Padfoot. "We’re going to make you Animagi."
After an instant of stunned silence, the Pride all tried to talk at once. Moony lifted his hand, and they quieted down. "One at a time," he said. "Luna, you first."
"Will I be able to fly?" asked Luna.
"Your form is the owl, isn’t it?"
Luna nodded.
"Then yes, you will. Neville?"
"You asked Gran if you could teach me this?" Neville looked astounded. "And she said yes?"
"She did," Moony confirmed. "Ginny?"
"Isn’t Animagus dangerous?" asked Ginny bluntly. "Could we get hurt?"
"Yes, but you could get hurt trying any spell. We’ll be with you every step of the way, and you’re not to try anything by yourselves that we haven’t seen you do successfully first. Ron?"
Ron shook his head. There was something very like hero-worship in his eyes.
"You four?" said Padfoot to the cubs. "You knew this was coming, I’m sure. But anything you want to know before we start?"
"What about me?" asked Meghan, looking a little woebegone. "I don’t even have a wand. How will I be able to keep up?"
"Very well, thank you," said Letha, entering the room in time to hear this. "Because when we go to Diagon Alley next, we’ll stop at Ollivander’s and get you your own."
"We will?"
"Getting a wand at eleven is just traditional," said Padfoot. "By law, you shouldn’t need one until then, and there are a lot of ways to misuse one. You won’t be using it for anything but this, will you now?"
Meghan shook her head quickly, not dislodging her beaming smile in the least.
"What about when we go to school?" asked Hermione. "We won’t be able to continue then, will we?"
"Why not?" asked Moony.
"You said we can’t do anything that you haven’t seen us do. But you won’t be at school with us." Hermione stopped, looking uncertainly from Moony to Padfoot to Letha. "Will you?"
"Well, we weren’t going to tell you this..." Moony began.
"But it’s too late now," finished Danger from the doorway. "Yes, we will be at school with you. Just as before, it’s Professor Lupin and Professor Granger-Lupin in public, and we won’t let you off punishments if we catch you doing wrong."
"What if you don’t catch us?" asked Harry.
"I think he’s onto something," Moony remarked to Padfoot.
"Note to self," Harry muttered, pretending to write on his hand. "Don’t... get... caught."
"Sound advice at any time," said Letha.
"Will you both be teaching Defense, Mr. Moony — I mean, Professor?" asked Ron.
"Probably a good idea to get in the habit now," said Moony with a small sigh. "Though it does make me feel terribly old. No, Ron, I’ll be teaching Defense alone. Danger’s on the payroll as an adjunct Professor of Muggle Studies."
"Which will leave me plenty of time to prowl the hallways at night seeking out fun and destroying it," growled Danger, glaring at the cubs. "Although we might find time to do a few other things," she added in a more normal tone.
"Now, with this, your classes, and Quidditch for you boys — and Ginny, too, if I remember right?" Ginny nodded, beaming at Moony, obviously pleased he’d remembered. "You’re all going to be very busy. If I hear anything, even a hint, of your schoolwork not getting done, from anyone, this project stops until the trouble is over. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." "Clear." "Understood." "We will."
"Excellent. Now, you’ve all done the first step already — scrying for a form. With that done, we can move on to step number two."
Moony waved his wand. Danger moved out of the way as a large stack of heavy books soared in from the living room. Hermione sat up eagerly, while Ron scowled. "Searching for spells to transfigure each part of your body. You may have to share some of these books, since many of your forms are similar — Muggle creatures, mammals or birds, and carnivores. Meghan, Neville, you two will probably have more luck with these." Moony separated out several books from the stack and set them aside. "The rest of you — have at them." He lowered the stack to the floor.
Harry picked up the top one and opened it, leafing a few pages into it. "Felines. No good for me. Ginny, Neenie?"
Hermione smacked him lightly in the back of the head. "Give me that," she said, taking the book from his hands.
Ron was running a finger down the back of the pile, reading the titles of the books. "Canine is dog, right?" he asked.
"Dogs or dog-like creatures," answered Padfoot. "Wolves and foxes are basically canine."
Ron pulled four books from the stack. "Catch," he said, pretending to toss them at Harry.
Harry flicked a leftover popcorn kernel he’d found under the couch at Ron. "Prat."
"Sometimes." Ron handed him the books and went back to browsing. "Here, avian. That’s birds, isn’t it?"
"That’s right," said Moony. "You and Luna will use those."
Draco moved up beside Harry to read over his shoulder. Just the first sentence made his head swim. He hadn’t known it was legal for words to have that many letters.
"Want to share work?" he suggested. "We each go through two books, and write down whatever looks useful for both of us. Then give the other one our notes when we’re done."
"Mmm," said Harry absently. Draco assumed that meant yes.
He carefully lifted two of the books out of his brother’s lap and opened the first one. Within a page or so, he regretted that the Pack-parents had ever made that promise.
But it looks so cool when they change. And so easy.
I guess I never thought about how much work it is. And Transfiguration, too. My worst subject.
Nothing says I have to do this. I could back out.
But he wanted to. He wanted to find out what it felt like to take on animal shape, to run faster than any human ever could, on four legs instead of two, to hunt and catch his own food, to escape from anything that wanted to hurt him...
Escape. I could escape my father if I was an Animagus. All I’d have to do would be get out of sight for long enough to change to fox form and hide. If he tied me up, I could change forms, and the ropes would just fall off, because they were meant for a person, not a fox. And if he took me somewhere out of the way and thought I couldn’t get home because I can’t Apparate, I could get home as a fox.
Suddenly, "want" took on a whole new dimension. The only time he could recall wanting anything nearly this badly, he’d been very small, and he couldn’t quite remember what it was he’d wanted, only that he’d seen someone else getting it and been madly jealous.
And I think I got it, whatever it was, pretty soon after that.
All right. I’ll learn. No matter how hard it is, no matter if I’m the worst one of all, no matter if I look like an idiot doing it, I’ll learn this.
An idea struck him. He nudged Harry.
"What?"
"Want to go upstairs? We can use our desks there."
"Good idea." Harry marked his place with the ribbon sewn into the top of the book’s binding, shut it, and got to his feet, books in one arm.
Draco took a look around the room as he left. Ginny and Hermione were sitting side by side on the couch, each with a book in her lap, occasionally pointing out something to one another. Luna was using the reclining Ron for a backrest. Neville and Meghan were lying on their stomachs behind an armchair, and he was reading aloud to her, so quietly it could barely be heard in the rest of the room. The Pack-parents had found seats and produced books, all except Danger, who came back into the room as Draco noticed she was gone, carrying an armload of quills, inkpots, and parchment.
"Trust you two to forget something as important as this," she said a little acidly in the direction of Moony and Padfoot. "Letha, think you can make them some lap desks?"
"I think so." Letha drew her wand and started conjuring the needed items, padded on one side, stiff on the other, to fit comfortably on a person’s lap and allow them to write there.
"We’re going up to our bedroom," Harry told Danger. "Using our desks there."
"Good thinking."
"Not my idea." Harry pointed at Draco.
"Good thinking," Danger said to him.
"Thanks."
Draco made sure Harry was in front of him as they climbed the stairs. He didn’t feel like explaining his blush. He wasn’t sure he could, anyway.
It was normal. Just a normal thing. Harry doesn’t like taking credit for what other people do, he never has. And Danger compliments people when they deserve it. Why does it suddenly make me feel like this?
He didn’t have even a partial answer until he was sitting at his desk, pulling out parchment and his favorite quill and opening his ink bottle, listening to the familiar sounds of Harry doing the same.
I guess, maybe, thinking I might lose it made me appreciate it a little more...
xXxXx
"Were your parents worried at all?" Hermione asked Ginny as they searched through the books of spells. "About you and Ron coming over here, with the escapes?"
Ginny shrugged. "Mum was getting all set to make a fuss, but then she settled down all of a sudden and said we weren’t likely to be in more danger here than at home, and besides, if your parents couldn’t keep us safe, no one could."
Hermione felt a little glow of pleasure. She’d have to tell the Pack-parents about that one, sometime when she needed them to be in a good mood.
"Are you worried?" she asked next. "I mean, it’s likely to be Draco that Lucius Malfoy wants. And both of them could come after Harry. We’re not exactly the safest people to know right now."
Ginny looked amused. "You’ve never been the safest people to know. Think about last year. My brother and I got possessed by an evil wizard and nearly killed by a giant snake. Maybe that wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t know Harry, but it was Harry who saved me and Percy, and the rest of the school, by turning Sangre and by stabbing Riddle’s diary."
"Good point," said Hermione thoughtfully. "He does get into a lot of trouble, but so far, at least, he always gets out again."
"If he didn’t, we wouldn’t be talking about him in the present tense," pointed out Ginny. "But you’re right. Harry’s got a good record, and I have no reason to think Draco would fall down on the job. So I’m not about to run away from my best friends because of a pair of crazies from Azkaban, who, if they’re smart, won’t come anywhere near your Pack, if they know anything about how strong of wizards and witches your parents are."
Hermione felt that inner glow again, and stored it carefully away, to recall when she next talked with Moony and Danger. She’d need all the help she could get, when the letter she was expecting from Professor McGonagall came.
xXxXx
Sirius came awake all at once, thinking he’d heard a sound. When several seconds of careful listening revealed nothing more menacing than a few birds chirping outside, he allowed himself to relax.
Just nerves. Nothing else. Relax, Padfoot, you’ve already done it once. How bad could it be?
Bad enough.
Today was the day he’d be taking, or retaking, his tests for his Auror’s license. There were four tests — oral, written, physical, and magical. Of the tests, he was most worried about the written and the magical. He was pretty sure he could handle the oral, which was what most apprentices stressed over, and he’d stayed in pretty good shape all these years, mostly due to gentle hints from Aletha and Danger, which had occasionally strayed into the realm of un-gentleness but seldom farther than refusing to serve him dessert.
I’ve studied hard for the written, but there’s so much to know. What if they ask something I just didn’t have time to learn? And the magical is keyed for those young kids who can hit anything, not for an old fart like me...
At this point, he had to stop worrying to laugh.
I am not an old fart. Not even by Muggle standards. And I’ve been practicing for a month, not to mention staying in general practice for all those years before. I should be just fine.
"I hope," he muttered.
"You hope what?" asked Aletha, rolling over.
"Hope I’ll do well on the exams."
"Something I never thought I’d see again," said Aletha, laughing a little. "Sirius Black with test anxiety."
"Hey, aren’t I allowed to be anxious?"
"Of course you’re allowed. But I’m also allowed to tease you a little. A very little. And I won’t let anyone else do it, not even Remus."
"Is that a promise?"
"If you want it to be. But I’d rather promise to help Danger frost your victory cake."
"I like that too."
xXxXx
"So, Mr. Black, why do you want to be an Auror?" asked Rufus Scrimgeour, looking at Sirius over his glasses.
Sirius squelched several smart-mouth responses — Because I do, For the same reason I did when I was twenty-one, look it up, and Did you know that you look like a cheap knock-off of Godric Gryffindor? — and answered respectfully. "I’ve always wanted to help people in trouble, and I have a very strong personal aversion to Dark magic. I’m also good with my wand and fast on my feet. And I like having a little thrill in my life."
"We’re not looking for thrill-seekers," barked Amelia Bones from her place beside Scrimgeour. "We need people who won’t take stupid risks."
"Maybe ‘thrill’ is the wrong word," Sirius acknowledged, trying not to let himself get flustered. "I’m not talking about taking stupid risks. I’m talking about the feeling I get when I can put my life, my skills, my magic between innocent people and harm, and keep them safe. I’ve been doing that, one way or another, all my life, and I intend to keep on doing it, Auror or not."
That got them.
The oral examination lasted half an hour. The written exam took an hour. The physical testing was forty-five minutes, and then came the magical tests.
First up was the power test, designed to see how much raw force a wizard’s spells could deliver. Sirius had to fire three basic spells as hard as he could into a stationary target, at point-blank range. Imagining Wormtail’s and Malfoy’s faces on them helped a great deal.
Next was the speed test. An examiner called out the name of a spell, and Sirius had to produce it as quickly as possible. He was a little embarrassed when his Color-Changer turned the target a nasty shade of pink instead of the nice red he had intended, but since no one else knew what he’d been going for, it didn’t much matter.
Finally came the accuracy test, for which he had trained the hardest. He would have three moving targets to shoot at, on which he had to score a total of one hundred hits in three minutes.
Sirius performed the breathing exercises Aletha had taught him, letting tension flow out of him as he exhaled and peace enter as he inhaled. When he was ready, he nodded to the examiner, who released the targets. They flew into position.
It didn’t even feel like work. Sirius’ wand darted from one to another, burning into them easily. He knew he had passed the hundred mark well before time was called, but kept shooting anyway. Extra credit was definitely available on this type of test.
The results, when they came, were welcome, although not a surprise.
"Congratulations, Mr. Black," said Amelia Bones, shaking his hand. "And welcome back." She lowered her voice. "We’ve come a long way from the holding cells, haven’t we?"
Sirius smiled at her and fought down a blush. "Yes, ma’am, we certainly have."
"You’ll work with another Auror for your first six months," Scrimgeour told him. "Someone with some field experience." His tone was just shy of insulting. "I’ve had a few requests already. I’ll let you know who I match you up with."
"Thank you, sir." Sirius tried very hard to keep his tone polite. "When should I report for work?"
"Monday morning, nine o’clock, my office, level two at the Ministry. You do know how to get there, I trust."
Since the tests had been held at the Ministry, there could be no doubt that this was an insult. Sirius reminded himself that Scrimgeour had obviously been unable to find anything that would bar him from requalifying. For some reason, the man didn’t like him personally.
Well, the feeling’s mutual. Thank heaven I’m not likely to be high enough in the hierarchy to deal with you in person for quite a while.
"Yes, sir," he answered aloud. "I’ll be there."
Enough of this. Time to go home and celebrate.
xXxXx
"So?" said Remus as Sirius stepped out of the fire. "How did it go?"
Sirius shrugged. "It went."
"Good to know, but not what I asked."
"Did you pass?" asked Harry excitedly. He and Draco were sitting at the kitchen table, while Remus leaned against the counter. There was no sign of anyone else, which was making Sirius a little nervous.
Where are the girls?
"No, I failed miserably. They said the only job I was qualified for was janitor."
"Ha," said Draco. "Undercover janitor Hit Wizard, maybe."
"I’m flattered. Yes, I passed."
The boys applauded. Remus nodded knowingly. "I thought you would. So, you’re an Auror again."
"Yep."
"Fully qualified to deal with Dark wizards."
"Yep."
"Strong hero of the magical world, brave and noble and true."
"Er, I guess." Both boys were looking highly amused. Sirius was starting to get suspicious. "Moony, where is this going?"
"Going? It’s going nowhere. I just wanted to make sure you could handle yourself against a few harmless, defenseless witches who want to congratulate you."
A few... oh, no.
Before Sirius could even get himself properly set for it, the women of the Pack mobbed him, hugging him, kissing him, shouting congratulations. He went down under a tangle of female body parts, and didn’t try to move. There are some men who would kill to be in a situation like this. Just because I’m not one of them is no reason not to enjoy it while it lasts.
Of course, he would have appreciated it a lot more if Harry and Draco’s enjoyment hadn’t been quite so audible.
Eventually, the women got tired of the game, which wasn’t much of a game at all since Sirius wasn’t fighting back, and let him up. Lunch was produced, and the promised cake for afterwards, and everyone was getting ready to go outside for a family game of football when an owl flew in through the window.
"International post," said Remus, getting the bird a dish of water. "From Aunt Amy?"
"No one else," said Aletha, picking up the letter, which was addressed to her. "Read it now, or later?"
"Now," said the cubs in almost perfect unison.
"No surprise," said Danger. "Yes, go on, read it to us."
"If you like." Aletha carefully tore open the parchment envelope and pulled out the letter within.
Dear Aletha and all,
I heard the latest news from Britain today. I’ll have to recheck my connections on the grapevine — I ought to be hearing important things like this faster than three days later.
"Three days?" interrupted Sirius. "The breakout was four days ago."
"This is dated yesterday," said Aletha. "Transit time and all that."
"Right."
I certainly used to. But I’m not writing merely to commiserate, though you have my thoughts and hopes during this hard time. No, I have some practical advice for you.
Goblins are notorious for not caring about the legal status of people who use their vaults, so long as those people are legally entitled to the money therein. Your Draco’s birth father will be able to get at his money without much trouble, and if I recall correctly, that’s an old name, with quite a pile attached. He could do a lot of damage with access to that much gold. Unless he’s stopped.
You can stop him. Have your boy withdraw all the money from that vault and put it in another one that belongs to your family, preferably one that Malfoy character doesn’t have any connections with. He may have already made a sizable withdrawal. Stop him from making any more. You don’t need the kind of trouble that amount of gold can buy.
Aletha set the letter down. "She has a very good point," she said. "If we could get at your vault, Sirius, while you were supposedly an escaped murderer..."
"Then an actual murderer shouldn’t have much more trouble," said Sirius through his teeth. "And those withdrawal forms are right out on the counters. How much do you want to bet a certain rat could get in there without being noticed and steal one, or two, or five?"
"And once he has them, it’s just a matter of attracting a post owl," said Remus. "The goblins have no trouble making withdrawals and deposits by owl. All they need is a bag enchanted against theft." He looked over at Draco. "How soon can you be ready to go to London?" he asked.
"Let me get my shoes." Draco ran upstairs.
"What about Wormtail?" asked Harry. "Did he have a vault?"
"Probably," said Sirius, "but we haven’t got access to it the way we do to the Malfoy vault. And Peter was never rich. He wasn’t quite poor, but he wasn’t rolling in gold by any means. Aunt Amy’s right. This will cut down on a lot of what Malfoy can pull."
"Would the goblins tell you if anyone had made a withdrawal?" asked Hermione. "Within the last few days? We haven’t been to London since school let out, and we didn’t go to Gringotts then. If anyone’s asked for money from that vault in the last three days, it would have to be Lucius Malfoy."
"Good thinking, Kitten," said Remus. "We’ll have to ask that. Now, since we’ll be in Diagon Alley, is there anything else we desperately need? I’d rather keep this short if I can, but I don’t think even Lucius Malfoy would be quite crazy enough to try anything in public, in broad daylight, with me right beside Draco."
"Two days after the full moon," added Danger. "He doesn’t know about the taming, and he might just be stupid enough to think you retain some wolfish qualities past your actual transformation."
Remus sighed. "Considering who else he’s met with my condition, I’m sure he would think that."
Before Sirius could ask Remus to go on — he hadn’t known Malfoy knew any other werewolves — Draco skidded through the kitchen doorway, breathless. "Shoes," he said, displaying them. "Are we going alone?"
"Yes. I’m sorry," Remus added over the sounds of disappointment emitted by Harry, Hermione, and Meghan, "but we don’t need you three, and if anything does happen — which I doubt, but it’s possible — you’d be in the way."
"Also, changing patterns is smart," said Aletha. "We always go to Diagon Alley all together, so now no one will be expecting just the two of you to go."
"Come on, then, fox," said Remus, heading for the music room. "We have a vault to plunder." Draco followed him, grinning. Sirius suspected his Pack-son had been feeling a bit helpless, and liked the idea of doing something to cripple his father.
His father. Poor kid. My parents hated me, and the feeling was mutual, but at least they never actively tried to kill me. Though I wouldn’t have put it past Mother, in one of her moods.
"Well, there’s no reason we can’t play until they get back," Sirius said, leading the way outside. "Makes teams a little harder, though."
Harry shook his head. "You and me and Hermione against Danger and Letha and Meghan," he said.
"Oh, yeah." Danger leaned down to slap hands with Meghan. "Come on, you three, get ready to get your collective arses kicked."
"Whatever happened to sisterly love?" protested Hermione, taking up her preferred position at goal.
"All familial bonds cease on the sacred football field," said Aletha silkily, stretching one leg. "You are no longer my Pack-daughter, Harry no more my Pack-son, and Sirius no more my beloved, if oafish, husband. You are simply the enemy, and you must be defeated."
"Remind me never to get on her bad side," Sirius said under his breath to Harry.
Harry chuckled. "Too late now."
xXxXx
"That was easy," said Draco as he and Remus left Gringotts.
"Yes, it was." Almost too easy. I keep waiting for the catch.
By default, most of the Malfoy money (there had been a withdrawal, a fairly large one, within the last three days, and Remus had taken note of the amount) had been transferred into Remus’ own family vault, since it was the only one he could legally sign for. He felt a bit odd about asking Draco to put all his money into his, Remus’, keeping, but Draco had signed the transfer form with no sign of reluctance, or even of second thoughts, and was now whistling the main theme from Mozart’s 40th Symphony perfectly happily.
I suppose this means he trusts us. He trusts me.
I should have known that already.
But it was still nice to know.
"Special edition!" shouted a newspaper stand on the corner. "Only four Knuts! Big news! Read all about it!"
What the hell. Remus dug into his pocket, pulled out four small bronze coins, and slipped them into the stand’s slot. The stand swallowed, burped, and opened its front.
"Thank you," said Remus, pulling out the paper.
He looked at the headline and froze.
LARS VILIAS FOUND DEAD IN OFFICE!
Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour collapse at desks
Healers suspect foul play