Dealing with Danger
Chapter 30: Birthday Surprises (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
No, I didn't write "The Knights of the Round Table." But I do know it by heart. And the chapter title is one of JKR's from HBP.
Chapter 30: Birthday Surprises
18 July
Nott —
You still owe me for not telling on you with the house-elf. Give me my lion back and we’re even.
— Black
xXxXx
Ron rubbed his forehead. He’d been staring at the same sentence for half an hour, and he still couldn’t get it to sound right.
Why am I doing this on my own when any of the others could help me?
He knew why. He wanted to be the third one of the Pride to make his transformation, and he wanted to do it himself, without help from anyone else.
Well, without a lot of help.
But he was going to have to face reality. He could be the third one to transform, or he could do it all himself. Not both.
So I just have to decide.
"FREDERICK GIDEON AND GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY!"
All thoughts of spell-writing disappeared from Ron’s head. Mum must have found something in their room...
He slipped out his door and leaned over the railing. His mother stood a few floors below, sheaf of parchment in her hand, glaring down the stairs at the twins, who seemed to be trying to make up their minds whether or not to run for it.
Ron grinned. This was going to be good.
xXxXx
"She set them on fire?" asked Harry incredulously. "All of them?"
"Every last one. The twins were mad as hell, they’ve been working on these for ages..."
"You’ve heard the explosions coming out of their room," added Ginny. "We just thought they were playing around, hexing each other or something."
"But they must have been working on this lot," said Ron. "And it sounds really great. You know how Fred and George think — they know the kinds of things kids would buy, so the stuff’s bound to sell. They’ve got loads of trick sweets, things that turn you into a bird or make your tongue blow up like a balloon. I think they’re even working on their own line of fireworks."
"That would explain a lot of the explosions," said Draco. "But she only burned the order forms? Not the stuff itself?"
"Well, she told them to give her everything they had," said Ginny. "But what do you think the odds are that they didn’t hide out a few things? And of course they still have all their notes and everything."
"Have their O.W.L. results come?" asked Hermione.
"No, they don’t until the end of the month," said Ron. "But they’ve never really cared much about tests and school and that. They want to have fun and make money."
"Praiseworthy goals," said Harry, leaning back against Neville’s bed.
"Mum got really mad when they told her they want to open a joke shop," said Ginny. "She wants them to work for the Ministry like Dad and Percy."
"They’d blow up the Ministry if they worked there," said Luna. "And it would probably be a good thing. Minister Fudge is very corrupt, you know. He doesn’t like the way goblins run wizarding finances, so he’s trying to have all the goblin leaders assassinated. Then the Ministry can take over Gringotts."
The Pride was used to Luna’s pronouncements by now, so no one tried to persuade her that this wasn’t true, although Hermione did make a small sound in her throat before Draco caught her eye and frowned at her.
"Maybe the twins could feed him a trick sweet to turn him into a hamster," said Neville. "Then he could run on a little wheel all day and feel like he was going somewhere. It’s no more than he does now."
Everyone looked at him. He frowned. "What?"
"You’re different than you used to be," said Hermione.
"Everybody’s different than they used to be. It’s called growing up."
"But you’re a lot different. You used to be so quiet we barely knew you were there. Now you just say things out, and people listen to you."
Neville shrugged. "It just happened, I guess. Having Mum and Dad around helped." Neville’s parents were getting ready to become Aurors again. The tests would be held as soon as the Quidditch World Cup was over. "And... other things. I just got tired of always being a nobody."
"You’re not a nobody," said Meghan. "You never were."
"I was a lot more of a nobody before I met you." Neville smiled at her. "So now I’m a nobody with friends and a family."
"Aren’t we all?" said Harry.
Ron snorted. "You? A nobody? Harry bloody Potter?"
"It’s like being at school and wanting it to be holidays," said Hermione. "And then on the holiday, wanting it to be term again."
"Maybe you want it to be term again."
"If we didn’t all have each other, this would be a bit boring, wouldn’t it? Two months with nothing to do?"
"Speak for yourself, Hermione," said Harry.
"My point is, people always seem to want whatever they don’t have. Because they think it’s better than what they do."
"The grass is always greener?" suggested Draco.
"Exactly. If you’re not famous, you think it would be wonderful to have everyone know who you are. But if you are famous, then no one will leave you alone."
"Unless you’re a certain kind of famous," said Meghan. "What’s that called? When you’re famous because you’re bad?"
"Infamous?" suggested Draco. "Notorious?"
"Yeah, like that."
"Well, then everybody leaves you alone," said Harry. "But they still look at you and talk about you."
"Speaking from experience?" said Ginny.
"Yes, actually. Remember first year?"
"No."
"I didn’t mean you. Ron, remember?"
"When you lot lost fifty points apiece — yeah, I remember. I still wish I could have been there. It would have been worth losing fifty points to curse the Slytherins."
"No, it wasn’t," said Hermione. "Because everybody hated us until the end of the year."
"But we got it all back at the Leaving Feast," said Harry. "All’s well that ends well, right?"
"Sometimes."
"You’re no fun."
xXxXx
23 July
Black —
What lion?
— Nott
xXxXx
Remus had spent the morning reviewing his correspondence with Charles Scribner, the lawyer Dumbledore had recommended. Scribner specialized in wizarding family law, and he was being cautiously optimistic about Remus and Hermione’s case.
"Your record is in your favor, and I’ve been keeping up with the files about your family at WFS, so I’m sure you’ll have no lack of character witnesses," he’d said at their first face-to-face meeting. "But I think a major point will be Miss Granger-Lupin’s decision in March 1991 to add your name to hers. The only plausible explanation for that is the one Miss Granger-Lupin gave herself — she thinks of you as a father and wants the world to know it."
Remus hadn’t been able to stop smiling for an hour afterwards. Thinking of it again still made him smile. It may take time — it will take time — but we’ll win this. Once I’m legally confirmed as capable of being Hermione’s guardian, they can hardly deny me the right to live in the same house with her. And they can’t possibly claim that I’m dangerous to the other cubs and not to her, so that means we can all be together again.
He finished preparing his bow and set his violin against his collarbone. Something correct for my mood, I think. The opening of "Tradition" from Fiddler on the Roof suited him nicely.
"I knew we were up high, but I didn’t think we were on the roof yet," said Danger from the door.
"Poetic license," said Remus. "I didn’t hear you Apparate."
"I didn’t. I used a magical thing called a door. And I’m not alone."
"Oh, really?"
"Oh, really." Danger chirruped. "Here, boy. Come on."
Remus set his instrument aside hastily as a mostly-grown and very dark-furred wolf bounded into the room, rumbled a friendly greeting to Danger, and then made straight for Remus. He knelt and rubbed behind the wolf’s ears, smiling into bright green eyes with circles of even darker fur around them. "What a handsome boy," he crooned. "What a splendid boy. I’m so proud of you."
The wolf nuzzled his arm. "Letha’s run tests," said Danger. "Apparently we took enough precautions through the years — he doesn’t even test for the carrier form."
"Wonderful." Remus felt a weight lift he hadn’t known he carried. Danger having lupus and being contagious for lycanthropy was bad enough — if Harry had been contaminated with the disease...
But we would have known already. Unless it only comes on when a person achieves Animagus...
Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.
"And somebody else as well." Remus looked up to see Danger stroking a calico cat, whose purring was audible even from across the room. "Oh, now this is interesting..."
"What?"
I can hear her when we’re in physical contact. The way she and Draco can. A pause. She says to tell you that Draco could hear my thoughts as well at the WFS offices, when we touched... hmm.
Have Ron and Ginny see if they can speak with simple contact, Remus suggested. A first-degree blood link may confer that ability.
Sirius or Letha could try it with Meghan as well. Danger set Neenie on the floor, and the cat ran to Remus, planting her paws on his knee and purring even faster than before. I think she’s happy to see you.
I think I’m happy to see her too. Remus scratched the side of Neenie’s face and rubbed under her chin. The wolf grumbled enviously until Remus devoted one hand to petting each of them. "You need a name in this form," he said. "Something simple."
"What about Blackie?" suggested Danger. "No one’s going to pick up anything from that."
The wolf narrowed his eyes and sighed.
"Not very dignified?" asked Remus.
The wolf nodded.
"We can make it Black Wolf for formal occasions, then. Or we could just call you Wolf."
Neenie sniggered. Remus hadn’t known cats could do that. The wolf, on the other hand, looked interested.
"Just Wolf it is, then," said Danger, coming across the room to take up Wolf-scratching duties. "I suppose it’s your duty to sound imposing for the girls..."
Wolf looked up at her soulfully, then planted his paws on her chest, knocked her over backwards, and washed her face enthusiastically. When he turned to Remus with mischief in his eyes, Remus quickly set Neenie aside and transformed himself. Wolf whined as a massive velveted paw pressed him gently to the ground.
Behave, cub, said Moony in animal-speech.
I will. I will. Promise. If Wolf had been abasing himself any more, he would have been in the next flat down.
That’s better. Moony let Wolf up and licked his head thoroughly for good measure.
Wolf shook hard. Yuuuuuck.
xXxXx
Christopher Curcio sat in his office, staring at a stack of parchment sullenly.
Why? he asked himself for the thousandth time. Why did I just let it happen? Why didn’t I speak up, call her a liar to her face, find out how she tricked the spell? Why?
But he knew why — he’d been too shaken by the unexpected turn of events. He hadn’t thought there was any way to fake a lineage spell. It reported, supposedly unerringly, whether or not the two people on which it was cast shared blood, and if so, in what degree. He’d been expecting the spell to show the blue of non-related people, or the purple which meant some sort of cheap potion had been used to change one of the bloods and try to make it look related to the other.
Instead, the spell had turned the bright red which indicated a first-degree blood relationship, and the woman had clarified it herself as one of brother and sister. Obviously, it couldn’t be a natural relationship — Lucius Malfoy was far too young to have a daughter this woman’s age — but just as obviously, it was something the spell recognized as valid.
I wonder if it has something to do with the girl? Hermione? She is the woman’s sister, and Draco’s age — and those scars on their faces are interesting...
He dug through the parchment to find Hermione’s interview. Here it is. Felicity Davidson talked to her, before she came to sit in on my talk with Black. Hermione had claimed adamantly that the scar on her face was given to her by Lucius Malfoy during her short-lived kidnapping, along with the identical one on Draco’s face.
Identical... A thought teased at the edges of Curcio’s mind. Wasn’t there that spell... yes, blood bonding. The closest possible bond is formed by making the cuts in the identical place on the two people to be bound. And a successful bond looks to all magic precisely the same as if the two were naturally related by blood.
Of course, that raises another question. Why in the world would Lucius Malfoy have blood-bonded his son to a Mudblood girl?
But whyever he did it, the evidence is clear that he did. And because Draco is Hermione’s brother by blood, the spell recognizes him also as the woman’s brother by blood. He sighed. Neat, logical, and beyond my power to alter without exposing myself as knowing far too much about very Dark rituals.
He slid Hermione’s parchment back into the stack, and another fell from it. He picked it up, looked at it, and closed his eyes in pain. The Weasley woman. I was a fool to let her be interviewed — I should have known by the name, Weasleys have hardly been bastions of pureblood culture and dignity...
"If you think Sirius Black has abused his children, then perhaps you ought to investigate me," Molly Weasley had said, her eyes pinning him where he sat. "People tell me I’m quite harsh with my boys, but I don’t see any Ministry workers on my doorstep. I’ve even spanked my children when they were young and truly needed it. I’ve never seen or heard tell of Sirius or Aletha or Danger, or Remus, and you may quote me on that, administering so much as one swat on the bottom, no matter what those children get up to."
He’d tried to say something, but the woman wasn’t finished. "In fact, I’d say they let their children get away with a great deal, if it weren’t for the simple fact that all four of theirs put together are still better behaved than either of my twins. They get into mischief, true, but what child doesn’t? At least they clean up after themselves, and are polite and courteous. And that they were taught by their parents."
"Indoctrination, perhaps," he’d suggested. "Or the parents enforcing the rule of politeness outside the home with threats."
"I sincerely doubt it. For one thing, the children show no fear of the adults, even when those adults shout or become angry. For another, my two youngest children spend large portions of every day in that home, and they have never had reason to fear any of the adults there. Nor have I, since I recovered from a rather embarrassing and unbefitting bout with my own foolish prejudices two years ago. Sirius Black is no more an abuser than I am, nor is his wife, nor are the Lupins. If you want to do your duty by them as a casewizard, let Draco come home and leave them in peace."
Curcio smiled now as he had not been able to smile then. But who says I want to do my duty by them? Or rather, who says I want to do my duty as a casewizard by them? I would far rather do my duty as a faithful follower of the Dark Lord. Reclaim a pureblood child for the right side, dishearten and distress Harry Potter and his family, to make the Dark Lord’s eventual return that much easier...
I must simply find new ways to do it now.
xXxXx
The Pack had chosen Friday nights as their time for shared dreams. Everyone looked forwards to them as a little slice of normality, of the way things used to be. Tonight, they had decided they wanted to go swimming. A replica of Hogwarts grounds, complete with lake, therefore surrounded them.
Danger, Aletha, Hermione and Meghan were taking turns tossing rings for each other to dive after. Sirius and Remus, for their part, were doing their best to drown Harry and Draco, which would have worked far better if Draco hadn’t been able and willing to change the dream in his and Harry’s favor, creating enormous water bombs to hit the Pack-fathers with and enabling the boys to hold their breaths for longer than would have been physically possible in the real world. The men battled against the odds for a while, then admitted defeat, and the four splashed back towards shore.
Harry transformed as soon as he was out of the water and shook hard. Sirius did the same. Remus summoned little flames and set them racing all over himself. Draco just smirked and snapped his fingers, rendering himself dry in an instant.
"Show-off," said Remus, lying down on one of the beach towels.
"That’s me." Draco lay down on the next towel over. "I miss you at home," he said quietly as Harry and Sirius ran back into the lake, still in their four-legged forms. "I miss being at home too, but I miss seeing you and Padfoot. Are you sure what you’re doing will work?"
"As sure as we can be at this point. We’ll set things in motion as soon as the World Cup is over. I don’t know how long it will take to get a court date, or how long the hearing itself will take — they’ll probably want to check and recheck everything, since this will set a precedent no matter which way it’s decided — but it’s our best chance, fox. My best chance." Remus said the last almost to himself.
Draco heard it anyway. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up with an elbow. "Because if you lose, you might not ever be able to come home?" He had the tone of someone hoping he was wrong.
Remus nodded.
"But if you win, then they can’t keep you away."
"That’s right."
Draco sat up. His outline blurred all over. Then a white fox was sitting where he had been. You can do what you want, in dreams, he said, stepping neatly from his own towel to Remus’. And Harry says you give good ear scratches.
Remus chuckled. "Hedonist." He reached down and caressed the fox’s ears. "How’s that?"
Mmmmmm...
"Everything will be all right in time, fox," Remus murmured, hoping he wasn’t going to become a liar. "All right in time."
xXxXx
24 July
Nott —
Don’t play stupid. I know you were in my room at least once while I was there. You can’t have missed the stuffed lion I had on my bed. It wasn’t in my things when I got here. Give it back, or else.
— Black
xXxXx
"So why don’t we get invited to these things?" Neville asked Harry, looking out the window of Fireflower House in the direction of the Burrow.
Harry didn’t look up from his writing. "You really have to ask?"
"Why would I have asked if I didn’t have to ask?"
"Come on, Cap’n." Draco’s nickname looked as if it was going to stick with Neville. "What’s coming up for both of us?"
"Um... oh." Neville smiled. "Birthdays."
"Precisely." Harry crossed two t’s with a flourish. "Birthdays."
xXxXx
"So did it work?" Hermione asked Ginny as they rethreaded their needles.
Ginny nodded. "We could talk when we touched just like having the chains on. And it doesn’t work with people who aren’t Pride — I tried it on Fred and Percy both, and nothing happened."
"It worked with me and Mama Letha too," said Meghan. "And me and Dadfoot. But not me and Draco. I guess you have to be what they called a first-degree relation for it to work."
"I guess so." Hermione guided her needle carefully along the chalked seam with her wand, watching it take neat, tiny stitches. Ginny and Meghan were doing the same, using the spells their respective mums had taught them. Luna didn’t care for sewing, so she, Ron, and Draco were working on the painting part of the project. They were all doing the other part of it, of course. Draco’s readdition to the group had been a great help.
"Do you think we’ll get in trouble for this?" she asked the other girls after a moment of silence.
"We could," said Ginny musingly. "It is magic, and we’re not allowed to do magic outside school. But I don’t think anyone could argue we’re doing wrong with it. And how would they ever know?"
"Well, Danger and Letha are bound to suspect. I mean, I’m just not very good at sewing by hand. Neither is Meghan, really. We can work with yarn, but thread..."
Meghan made a face. "I am not bad at sewing."
"Then why do you always come out with knots?"
Meghan disdained to reply.
xXxXx
Draco’s fourteenth birthday dawned chilly and rainy, and no sooner had he awakened than Neville walked in and handed him a slip of parchment.
"What’s this?"
"Rain check."
"What?"
"A rain check for your party. It’s going to be an outdoor party, and it was supposed to be today, but it’s nasty outside. So we’re waiting until it’s not."
Draco groaned. "So I miss out on my presents until then too, right?"
"They only get better because you waited," said Neville sanctimoniously, and ducked immediately as Draco hurled a pillow.
xXxXx
26, 27, and 28 July were all rainy and grey. The Pride spent their time indoors, systematically wearing out their welcome at one house and moving to the next. By the time the third set of adults had kicked them out, they could start again at the first.
"This is ridiculous," said Ron, tapping on his drums in his bedroom. "Your house is right over there. You spend the entire day going in circles around it. But you’re not allowed to go there."
"I know it’s ridiculous." Draco was sitting cross-legged on Ron’s bed, playing Exploding Snap with Harry, Neville, and Luna. Meghan and Ginny were on the floor, teasing cat-Neenie with string. "But it’s how the Ministry works right now. I can’t go home until someone signs some form somewhere that says Padfoot never actually abused me."
"Snap," said Harry. The cards on the bed exploded. Neenie jumped a foot in the air. Everyone laughed.
Neenie hissed, leapt onto the bed, and smacked Harry’s cards with her paw, causing them to explode as well. "Ow," he said, rubbing his hand.
"Serves you right," said Ron, grinning. "Nice one, Hermione."
Neenie rubbed her face delicately against Ron’s hand.
xXxXx
28 July
Black —
I never touched your stupid lion.
— Nott
xXxXx
29 July was finally a nice enough day to hold Draco’s party. All four families met outdoors for a picnic followed by games — ground-based only, since there was always the chance of a passing Muggle — and then presents and cake. A large black dog gate-crashed the event, but no one seemed minded to turn it away.
The party could have been improved by the presence of one more guest, but this was tactfully left unsaid.
xXxXx
29 July
Nott —
Like hell you didn’t. Who else would it have been?
— Black
xXxXx
"Good morning, Captain, and many happy returns of the day."
Neville rubbed his eyes. Draco was standing over his bed, looking very awake and very cheerful. "Thank you," he said groggily. "What day?"
"You are tired. It’s your birthday. Come on, up you come. We have something big planned for you and Harry, and you have to be awake to see it."
Neville let himself be dragged out of bed because it was easier than resisting, but started to move under his own power once he recalled that presents would surely be forthcoming.
Draco betook himself to the Burrow for breakfast, allowing the Longbottoms — all four of them, since Gran had come for the day — to have a family meal. After that came some strictly family presents, the kind of things Neville knew none of his friends but Meghan would really appreciate, clippings and roots and such. He spent a blissful morning in the greenhouse with his dad, getting all his new friends into the environments they liked the best, then it was off to the Burrow for lunch and presents from his friends.
There were extra guests at lunch, Ron’s brother Charlie and his girlfriend Tonks, who could change her looks just by wanting to. His mum was very interested in this, and spent a lot of the meal in quiet conversation with Tonks.
Finally, everyone headed up to the orchard for the promised entertainment. A backdrop painted with a large grassy hill, several trees, and a castle off to one side had been strung between two of the trees; a rectangular area had been marked off in front of it; and chairs were set up facing that. The two in the middle of the front row were ostentatiously labeled "Harry" and "Neville." Draco and Ron made a production of ushering them into these seats, then disappeared behind the backdrop. A great deal of whispering ensued. Finally, Ron reemerged onto the stage.
Fred and George started applauding, and everyone else took it up. Ron was dressed in a fair mock-up of a knight’s clothes, right down to reproduction chain mail. "Fair ladies and good sirs," he said in a deep voice, "I bid you good day, and welcome to Camelot. I am Sir Lancelot the Brave. Allow me to introduce to you my comrades who sit with me about the Round Table."
That portion of the audience which had been exposed to Muggle culture was snickering.
"Sir Galahad." Meghan scampered onto the stage in similar knightly gear. "Sir Bedevere." Hermione walked on in a stately fashion, lifting her three-barred visor to look at the audience. "Sir Robin." Draco pranced on, recorder in his pocket. "And our gracious sovereign, King Arthur." All the knights bowed as Ginny, regal in crown and cape, stepped out from behind the backdrop. The only problem was, they were looking the wrong way, so that the "King" was confronted with a display of rear ends. She hissed at them, getting their attention, and they rapidly turned around and bowed again.
"In my court at Camelot," said the King, walking across the stage, "we value many things. Courage. Loyalty. Intelligence. But most of all, we value the ability to sing and dance." She waved off to one side, and Neville saw Luna, dressed in a tunic and tights and sitting at a piano one of the adults must have conjured. "Musician, play on."
The knights arranged themselves hastily into a line, with Draco on one end and Ginny on the other. The audience was very quiet. Luna’s opening chords were anything but quiet, as the knights began to sing.
We’re Knights of the Round Table
We dance whene’er we’re able
We do routines
And chorus scenes
With footwork impeccable
We dine well here in Camelot
We eat ham and jam and Spam a lot
Neville cracked up.
I should have known.
Better even than the words of the song were the dance routines. Meghan had a pair of solos, during one of which she accompanied herself with percussion on coconut shells. The twins, for their part, were falling out of their seats laughing at some of the maneuvers Ron was going through, and Neville doubted all the red in his friend’s face was from exertion.
This is precious. I just wish we could have been in on it...
Maybe next year.
The twins nearly had a fit when Ron deepened his voice and sang, I get to push the pram a lot. Neville thought it was a good thing that the rest of the song was purely instrumental.
After "The Knights of the Round Table" had been duly cheered and encored, the players moved on to other portions of the program. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny made a convincing three-headed monster for Sir Robin to run away from, and Luna left her keyboard to join Meghan as a minstrel. King Arthur went adventuring with Meghan as Patsy, and Hermione and Draco provided the voices from behind the backdrop. Finally, King Arthur, Sir Bedevere, Sir Galahad, and Sir Lancelot approached yet another castle, and King Arthur called out.
An armored head appeared above and behind the backdrop, and everyone cheered. Draco, now wearing an outrageously curled mustache and using an equally outrageous French accent, was obviously sitting on his broom to give the proper effect. The castle was painted off to one side of the drop, meaning that Ginny could shout her lines up to Draco while cheating front enough that people could see her face. The knights retreated in disorder after the Frenchman insulted them terribly and threw livestock at them, and the play was at an end.
"We should never have shown you that, should we?" said Mrs. Letha, laughing as she hugged Meghan, Hermione, and Draco all at once.
"Probably not," said Draco, grinning at her. "And I’m sure Mrs. Weasley’s horrified at what Ginny was getting up to."
"Don’t be so sure," said Harry, nodding back to where Ginny was talking with her mother.
"—so funny, Ginny, love, I never knew you could make jokes like that, and your singing was beautiful, I only wish there was some way we could show the entire world how well you do—"
Draco shrugged. "Okay, so I’m wrong."
"She was really good," said Harry. "Whose idea was this, anyway?"
"Hers, mostly. Ron thought of it at first, but he didn’t want to get involved. Said the twins would laugh at him too much."
"So how’d you get him into it, then?" asked Neville.
Draco grinned. "We wrote to Charlie and Tonks and set up a scam. They bet Fred and George ten Galleons that Ron wouldn’t go through with it, and then Ron bet them ten Galleons that he would go through with it."
"Money’s not necessarily a bad incentive," said Mrs. Letha thoughtfully. "Especially when the product is so... energizing. I’ll have to think about that for what I’m hoping to do this year."
"What’s that?" Harry asked.
"Ah, ah, ah, Wolf. I don’t want to spoil it."
"That sounds like what Percy keeps saying," said Ron, coming over to join them with a jingling bag in his hand. "Is there something special happening at Hogwarts this year?"
"Yes. But that’s all I’m going to tell you."
And try as they might, nothing more would Mrs. Letha divulge.
xXxXx
Remus awakened slowly. He had gone to bed feeling a bit sorry for himself, because he hadn’t been able to be there for Draco’s birthday or for the big entertainment (though he had watched through Danger’s eyes and laughed as heartily as anyone). What had he ever done to deserve such treatment?
"Do you want that question answered?" asked a male voice very close beside him.
Startled, Remus rolled over and sat up. He was lying, or now sitting, on the grass near the lake at Hogwarts — no, the Founders’ Castle, he realized on seeing the intensity of color and light, and the identity of the man who’d spoken to him. "Do you think I should want that question answered, Sir Godric?" he asked.
"Quite possibly. It has bearing on a decision your lady wife will have to make soon, and one that you all must make."
"Then yes, I do want it answered."
Gryffindor sighed. "You have done nothing, Remus. Or nothing more than any human being. Rather less than most. But bad things sometimes come to good people. It is simply the way of the world, and no one can change it. Not even we can change it. I know we seem very powerful to you, but so powerful do wizards seem to Muggles, and wizards cannot make the world run more smoothly than Muggles."
"It sometimes seems the opposite is true."
"Indeed. My point is, every man who has power seems infinitely powerful to the man who does not, but from that man’s own point of view, his power is far less than it appears from the outside." Gryffindor regarded his hands pensively. "I wielded wand and sword once, wand and sword and fire. Now I use pure magical power, some subtle, some not. But I cannot take all the trouble from your lives, and I would be reprimanded if I tried."
"As nice as it sounds, I don’t think we’d really care to have you do that either." Remus stretched his back. "That’s the fun in life, really, isn’t it? Finding ways to work around what comes at you?"
"It is." Gryffindor’s smile was approving. "But that leads to the decision you will all have to make, each one for himself. You understand in your hearts and souls that we are powerful, more powerful than you. Your understanding that we cannot solve all your problems for you is as of yet only in your minds. You may harbor some resentment against us in future times of trouble. Would it be easier for you — and this I ask only of you, Remus, for everyone must answer for himself — would it be easier if you no longer came here for these yearly gatherings?"
Remus frowned, thinking. "I can’t see how," he said finally. "At least, not at the moment. I might have a different opinion if something truly drastic happens to us, but right now, I think this is valuable just as one place and time where we know we can all be together, no matter what." He looked sidewise at Gryffindor. "Besides, surely we would never be able to gather any sort of information from the way you talk to us, or the things we do together."
"Never," agreed Gryffindor calmly. "Absolutely not. Will you walk inside with me?"
"I would be delighted."
There are times it’s easy to remember that he was once Salazar Slytherin’s best friend.
xXxXx
One by one, Pack and Pride were polled, and all gave the same response — they liked the birthday parties and wanted them to continue. Hermione detained Margaret Ravenclaw after she had asked the question. "I wanted to ask you something about my pendants," she said. "About the jewels. Is there any way I could give one of them to somebody else?"
"And who might that be?" asked Margaret with a wry smile. "Your twin, perhaps?"
Hermione nodded. "I have two blue still," she said. "If he takes one, that still leaves me with one if I ever need to call for help in an emergency."
"True. But remember, that’s not the only use the blue jewels can be put to."
"It’s not?"
"Oh, didn’t you know that?" Margaret clapped a hand over her mouth dramatically. "Mercy me, I must be getting silly in my old age. Well, the answer to your question is yes. Yes, you may give one of your jewels to your twin, as long as he’s willing to accept. Why don’t we go and ask him..."
xXxXx
"Will one of my jewels turn red when I get Sorted into Gryffindor?" Meghan asked Maura Gryffindor and Sophia Ravenclaw.
The two women exchanged amused looks. "If you are Sorted into Gryffindor," Maura began, ignoring Meghan’s cry of indignation.
"Then yes, one of your jewels will turn red," Sophia finished. "But that will still leave you with three blue ones. Use them only when you’re sure you need them, because you know they cannot be replaced."
Meghan nodded. "I will be a Gryffindor," she said mulishly. "I will be."
"With that attitude, I’m sure you will," said Maura, chuckling. "Father’s Hat is very like him that way. Sensible."
xXxXx
Brenna Ravenclaw, her mother, and Danger were dipping crisps into a large bowl of onion dip. "We need to ask you a question related to the one we’ve been asking everybody," said Brenna, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. "About your dreams."
"You must have noticed that you haven’t had one in quite a while," said Ravenclaw, sipping her drink.
Danger nodded. "It’s been a year and more. Am I just going to stop having them?"
"No," said Ravenclaw, shaking her head. "Your magic, once started, cannot be so easily stopped. But you must decide what form it is now to take."
"You may dream one dream each year, giving general warnings and predictions for the coming months," said Brenna. "It will be vague and difficult to understand, and you may be angry if you fail to interpret a portion correctly, or if you fail to do so in time. Or you may choose to have warnings come to you closer to the time of the trouble. There are some things about which you cannot be warned, and some for which warnings may come too late, but for other things these warnings may be helpful and even save lives."
Danger sighed, crumbling a crisp between her fingers. "Why is it always me?" she asked no one in particular. "Excuse me a moment? I want to go talk this over with Remus."
"Of course."
Danger wandered away, finding her husband in conversation with several male scions of the Founders’ lines. They drifted off as she approached. "What is it?" Remus asked her.
Danger explained her predicament. "So I can either get general warnings for the whole year, or get more specific ones that might not come in time," she finished. "What do you think?"
Remus twisted a napkin in his hands, thinking. "General warnings for everything would probably be the more useful of the two," he said. "Because they’re guaranteed to come in time, and we’ll have lots of opportunity to work them out. It’s not as if we haven’t had practice."
"That’s what I was thinking — I just wanted a second opinion." Danger smiled, leaning into Remus’ chest. "I love you."
"I’ve noticed."
She pulled back, looking him over, then shook her head. "You’re not troublesome enough to be Han Solo."
"Thanks, I think."
xXxXx
Remus watched Danger go back to the Ravenclaws and tell them her decision, watched them nod solemnly and shake hands with her in turn, watched them stand and move away, only to have their places taken by a man in green...
"He likes her," said a male voice by his elbow. Remus turned to see Paul Gryffindor beside him. "He’s always been pretty taken with her, ever since we first started watching you."
"Taken with her?" Remus repeated. "Should I be worried?"
"Oh, no, no, no. We don’t... we can’t... feel that way. It’s just... not part of who we are anymore." Paul shrugged. "It was a little weird for the first century or so, but now we’re all used to it. It makes sense, you know? If we still did, we’d be thinking all the time about the people we loved when we were alive. We were most of us married, you know. Brenna’s the only one who never did, and that’s just because the man she loved died at the Battle of Hogwarts."
"The Battle of Hogwarts?"
"You don’t know about that?"
Remus shook his head.
"It’s how Dad’s big fight with Alex’s dad ended up." Paul looked pensive. "I’m kind of hoping your blow-up down there doesn’t end up that way too, but it’s looking more and more like it will. We were all there — I wouldn’t ask Alex about it, though. It’s where his dad died."
Remus closed his mouth. "Salazar Slytherin died at Hogwarts?"
Paul nodded. "It was down by the lake. I think he was hoping to get into the castle and into the Chamber of Secrets, bring out that basilisk, what’s her name, Sangre. But one of Dad’s students — a friend of mine, actually, a good friend — caught up with him first. He had a score to settle. His family’d been Muggleborn."
"Slytherin killed them."
Another nod. "And Will killed him. He had Dad’s sword — Dad got wounded in the leg pretty early, but he wouldn’t quit fighting until Maura and I made him get off the field. It’s why he still limps. But before he went, he gave Will his sword and told him to use it right. And he did." Paul stared at the floor. "I grew up calling Alex’s dad ‘Uncle Sal,’ running to him as often as I’d run to Dad. Almost like your cubs with you and Sirius. But he wanted to kill people for things they couldn’t help. We couldn’t let that go on."
Remus put an arm around Paul’s shoulders, fully conscious of the irony of the situation. An onlooker would have taken them to be about the same age, yet Paul had at least twenty-five times Remus’ experience, more than twenty-five times his knowledge and wisdom...
"Thanks," Paul said quietly. "It doesn’t hurt as much now, but some things will have to wait to heal until it all comes to an end."
"And when that is, not even you can see."
"Exactly." Paul turned his head, giving Remus the almost insolent smile that he shared with Sirius. "So, why don’t we go raid the snack table and see what we can find to set on fire and throw at people?"
"Sounds like a plan."
xXxXx
Aletha stretched luxuriously in her bed. The party had been marvelous fun, especially the point when Paul Gryffindor and Remus had thrown flaming peanuts at Sirius. Sirius had promptly upended the punch bowl over his head to put out the flames, then thrown the empty bowl, and the now quenched peanuts, back at them. Once everyone had stopped laughing, a Founders versus Pack-and-Pride Quidditch game had closed the party.
At least once a year we’re assured of one night of harmless fun, all of us together.
I’d give up a lot to be sure of that.
xXxXx
Neville went down to breakfast early that morning. "Dad?" he said. "Adam and Helga said to say hi."
Frank Longbottom choked on his coffee.
xXxXx
The first week and a half of August were the idyllic days of summer that everyone had missed during July because of the worries over Remus and Draco. Granted, Remus was still away, and Draco still wasn’t allowed to come to the Den or be around Sirius (though it was amazing how often that black dog showed up), but there were always dreams, and plenty of hope for the future.
xXxXx
10 August
Black —
My dad has it. What will you give me if I get it back for you?
— Nott
xXxXx
Excitement about the Quidditch World Cup began to mount higher and higher as the second week of August drew toward a close. Still, no one would have dreamed of letting Ginny’s birthday go uncelebrated, so 11 August saw another party in the orchard.
Harry took the role of King Arthur this time, and Neville decided to be Patsy, so that they could do the opening of the Camelot scene and the scene at the castle properly. Danger sat on a broomstick behind the backdrop, and Letha cast a spell to show clouds opening around her face. Only the Pack knew that it was actually Moony’s voice that boomed out of her in the role of God.
"I was good, wasn’t I?" said Harry as he lay in bed that night.
"Brilliant," answered Hermione from the next bed over. After the fourth night in a row of discovering Hermione and Meghan together in Draco’s bed in the morning, Padfoot and Letha had given in and moved a third bed in for Meghan. "Go to sleep."
"Fine."
A pause.
"I really was good, wasn’t I?"
"Harry," said Meghan’s voice from the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
Silence.
xXxXx
Hermione was dreaming. She sat in a dirty, dilapidated room, Harry and Draco beside her, hearing voices shouting outside, footsteps pounding. Blue light shone between Draco’s fingers. Harry clutched a small golden cup in one hand. She felt her mouth move, shape the words, No, don’t do it, and didn’t know which of the boys she was speaking to —
She awoke with a start. Meghan slept on peacefully before her eyes. She turned over to see Harry sitting up in bed, rubbing his forehead. "What’s wrong?" she whispered, sitting up herself.
"I had a dream," he answered in the same low tones. "About Voldemort."
Hermione kicked off her covers instantly and climbed onto his bed. "Tell me," she said. "Quick, before you forget."
Harry closed his eyes. "It was a room in an old house," he said. "It must have been really fancy once, but now it’s just old and dirty. Abandoned, it looks like, abandoned for a long time. There was a big snake named Nagini, and an old Muggle — the caretaker of the house, I think they said he was — and..." He opened his eyes. "Wormtail. Wormtail was there."
"What language did they speak?" Hermione asked urgently. "Not to themselves, to the Muggle — or didn’t they talk to the Muggle?"
"Yeah, they talked to him. It was English, I think. But don’t you understand every language in dreams?"
"I don’t know. And you said Voldemort was there? How could you see him? Was he possessing someone again?"
Harry shook his head, hand still on his scar. "I don’t think so — I don’t know. I never saw him clearly. I just knew it was him from the voice. And because he spoke Parseltongue. They were talking about someone they killed — there was a name but I don’t remember it — and then they started talking about killing somebody else." He looked down at his blankets. "About killing me."
Hermione hugged him hard. "They won’t," she told him in a harsh whisper. "They can’t. They’ll have to come through me, first. And Draco and Meghan, and Ron and Ginny, and — oh, everyone, you know that."
"Yes, but I don’t want that to happen!" Harry’s eyes were desperate now. "Hermione, I don’t want all those people to die for me! I don’t want anyone to die for me!"
"I know. But we don’t want you to die either."
"Nobody is going to die tonight," said Letha firmly from the door. "Bad dream, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "It made my scar hurt," he said, standing up and picking up his glasses. "And I think I saw Voldemort in it."
Letha frowned. "I don’t like the sound of that. Does it still hurt now?"
"No, it’s better. But it kept hurting for a while after I woke up."
Letha’s frown deepened. "Tell us right away if it hurts again," she said. "Go back to sleep if you can, but if you can’t, go downstairs so you don’t wake anyone else."
Harry and Hermione nodded. Letha smiled and came into the room to hold them both for a moment. "Our first cubs," she murmured to them. "What a fine young man and young lady you’re turning out to be."
After Letha returned to bed, a cat and a wolf went down the stairs together and out the front door into the end of the night, where they curled up on the lawn and watched the sky brighten into morning.