Dealing with Danger
Chapter 31: Money and Honor (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
I disclaim the one line from the GoF movie.
Chapter 31: Money and Honor
Mid-morning found the Pack gathered in the den room, all with large backpacks on. "Hold on tight, now," said Sirius, extending his arm to Harry. "Don’t want to lose you halfway there."
"Oh, please," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "How often does that happen?"
"About once a week," said Aletha, whose arm Hermione was grasping tightly. "A lot of splinchings happen with badly done Side-Along."
"Great," grumbled Harry, taking a firmer grip on Sirius’ arm. Sirius was sure he’d have to massage it later to return circulation. "Ready when you are."
Sirius concentrated on his destination. A wood near a deserted moor, trees all around, maybe a bird or two singing — he wanted to be there, now, with Harry, he told himself, and turned in place, willing their two bodies forward through space.
Darkness and pressure, and then light again, and they were standing in a clearing in a forest. Harry let go Sirius’ arm and shook his head vigorously. "Everything still attached?" Sirius asked, only half-jokingly.
Harry rubbed his face. "Think so."
Aletha and Hermione Apparated in with a snap, and a moment later Danger and Meghan with a louder popping noise. Danger had been a bit chary about taking Meghan Side-Along, but Aletha had talked her into it.
"That’s everyone," said Sirius, feeling a trace of sadness as he said it, because it wasn’t true, not really... everyone was more than this, or ought to be...
Stop that. There’s no reason to ruin the World Cup with stupid "should be" and "could be." We’ll get it sorted out. For right now, just live with it.
"Come on, then, let’s find our campsite," he said, hoisting his backpack a little higher.
xXxXx
Hermione stopped at the edge of the wood, turning her head. "What?" said Harry, but then he heard it too. Someone was playing on a pipe, a tune that managed to be wistful and lively at the same time, as if forest spirits were dancing to it...
Meghan looked appealingly at Padfoot and Letha. "Oh, all right," said Padfoot, holding out his hand. "Come find us when you’re done."
Meghan clapped her hands, slithered out of her backpack and handed it over, and was racing along the edge of the trees towards the music before you could say "wand."
"You too?" Letha asked Harry and Hermione. They both nodded. "Go on, then."
"But human," added Danger firmly. "No changing."
"Aww." Harry had been looking forward to tracking someone down by scent, and by her expression, so had Hermione.
"You want to get us in more trouble than we already are?" asked Letha, hands on hips.
"No." Hermione sighed. "And you would be if someone saw us transform."
"Correct," said Letha. "So..."
"Don’t let anyone see us?" Harry guessed.
Danger winked at them. "That’s the rule. Backpacks, please, and don’t be too long."
Harry handed his backpack to Letha, Hermione gave hers to Danger, and they both turned and ran into the forest, just far enough that they could no longer see the sea of tents. Once there, Harry stopped and closed his eyes, beginning to recite his Latin sentences. The change came more quickly now, so that he only needed two of them — oddly, the two Ginny had suggested, not the two he had come up with himself — to make the change.
Hermione, having had more time to practice, could change merely by wanting to, and was dancing in place with impatience by the time Harry finished. Slowpoke, she told him in animal-speech.
You didn’t have to wait. Nose in the air, Harry cast about for the scent he wanted, and found it within a few moments. Let’s go.
xXxXx
Even if they hadn’t had their animal forms, the growing crowd around the place they wanted would have made it easy to find. Hermione went aloft a few trees away, found a branch sturdy enough to support her human form, and changed back, as Harry did the same below.
Draco was sitting in a tree at the edge of the woods, one arm hooked around an upthrust branch, and playing something that sounded like one of his original compositions. Meghan was dancing below. Hermione wondered which of them had had the foresight to put out the hat sitting on the ground. There were already several Sickles in it along with quite a lot of Knuts.
Meghan sank gracefully to the ground on a long warbling note. The crowd applauded, and many of them tossed coins into the hat. Hermione jumped down and made her way up front. "Can you play ‘Magic Circle’?" she called, winking at Draco.
"I suppose I could do that." Draco flexed his fingers, blew through his pipe once to clear it, then played the introduction to the lively dance tune. Harry made his way through the crowd on the other side to join Hermione and Meghan, and Neville came forward from his vantage point beside the tree to be their fourth. The crowd began to clap along, keeping time as the dance began.
"Magic Circle" was a round-dance tune, which could be done with any even number of dancers, though having a multiple of four made it easier. As they spun in their small circle, Hermione saw a number of familiar faces in the crowd. This would be more fun with more people...
"Grab new partners when we spin out," she told Harry as she curtseyed and he bowed.
"Right." Harry turned to bow to Meghan, and Hermione heard him pass the message along to her. The spin came a few bars later, as each dancer whirled two steps outward and two steps back. Two steps out brought Hermione to the edge of the crowd, and she seized Seamus Finnegan’s hands and spun him back into the dance with her.
To her delight, Neville had caught Colleen Lamb as he spun out. Harry’s prize was a red-haired Hufflepuff girl Hermione knew only vaguely, and Meghan’s was a completely unfamiliar boy, who looked a bit puzzled as to how he’d come to be in the dance. The newly enlarged circle joined hands and spun around again.
Four iterations later, two subsidiary circles had formed of their own accord, and the original circle had split into two so as to keep dancing in the space available. Draco played the arpeggios which meant the dance was coming to an end, and partners bowed and curtsied to each other as the music slowed and stopped. Hermione looked up to see that her final partner was a tall, black boy with slanting eyes, who she thought was in her own year in Slytherin. "Hermione Granger-Lupin," she said, offering her hand.
"Yes, I know." He took it cautiously and shook it once. "Blaise Zabini."
"You dance very well."
"Thank you. So do you."
"Hello, Hermione," said Colleen, cutting across the eroding circle. "When did you get here?"
"Just now. You?"
"Oh, we’ve been here for nearly a week. I’m glad the match is soon, I don’t think I can stand my sister for much longer." Colleen looked curiously at Zabini, who was regarding her calmly.
"Do you know each other?" asked Hermione, suddenly recalling her manners. "Colleen, this is Blaise Zabini, he’s in our year — aren’t you?"
"Yes, I am."
"And Blaise..." She hoped she hadn’t offended him by using his first name, but he made no sign of it. "This is Colleen Lamb, she’s one of my dormmates, another Gryffindor, obviously."
"You’re... a Slytherin?" said Colleen hesitantly, extending her hand.
"Yes, but I hope you won’t hold that against me." Blaise took her hand, but instead of shaking it, bowed over it and kissed it once. "Enchante, mam’selle."
Colleen stared. "Thank you," she said faintly as Blaise straightened up and released her hand. "I... have to go." She dashed away into the crowd.
Blaise watched her go, frowning. "Have I offended her?"
"No, she’s just shy," said Hermione. "I think you startled her, that’s all. She’s not used to people noticing her."
"She should be," said Blaise musingly. "She’s quite lovely..." He shook his head, as if recalling himself from daydreams. "I must go. I hope to see you at school, Miss Granger-Lupin."
"Hermione."
A smile flickered into view. "If you wish. Hermione." He bowed to her slightly and was gone.
"What’re you talking to him for?" asked Draco, coming up beside her. "He’s a Slytherin."
"As if I hadn’t noticed," Hermione snapped, rounding on him. "Why can’t I talk to whomever I please?"
"I never said you couldn’t, I was just saying you might not want to talk to a Slytherin!"
"Why not? They can’t all be bad, can they?"
"I wouldn’t be surprised. Look at this." Draco unfolded a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to her.
"My dad has it," Hermione read aloud. "What will you give me if I get it back for you?" She looked up. "What is it?"
"My stuffed lion. I thought Nott — little Nott — took it just to be rude, but now he says his dad has it. I wrote back telling him what I’ll tell the school if he doesn’t get it back for me."
Hermione grinned and touched his hand. Dora?
Exactly. "By the way, thanks for making me play my fingers off," Draco continued as if they’d never spoken silently, rubbing his left hand with his right. "That’s a hard piece, and I did it three times over!"
"No one made you keep going. You could have stopped."
"But you were all having fun. I would have been the rude berk who quit playing for no reason if I’d done that."
Hermione groaned. "I give up," she said. "How am I supposed to know what to do?"
"You’re not." Draco chuckled. "That’s the way I like you. Confused."
Hermione made a face at him.
xXxXx
After helping set up the tents, Danger had departed, leaving Sirius and Aletha alone with Harry, Hermione, and Meghan. She would be back Monday afternoon to watch the match with everyone, but this was something on the order of a holiday for her, time she could spend with Remus without feeling guilty about neglecting the rest of the Pack.
She shouldn’t be in this kind of situation. None of us should. Aletha looked down the row of tents, finding the faded yellow one without much trouble, even in the gathering twilight. Draco was in that tent, she knew, just a short distance away from her, from all of them. He was safe and happy enough, certainly happier than he’d been with the Notts, but he wasn’t home, and that rankled.
Don’t any of them understand the kind of psychological damage you can do by yanking a child away from his family without warning? Draco’s fourteen, and mature for his age, but he’s still young, and with his history...
I’m not looking forward to his homecoming.
Not, she amended hastily, because she didn’t want him home — heavens, no — but because she knew what was likely to happen.
He’ll have nightmares for a while, be touchy and moody, clingy and pushing us away by turns. He’ll need a lot of reassurance, and the worst of it is, we can’t guarantee this won’t happen again, because we didn’t know it was going to happen in the first place.
And just to add to the fun, Remus was away indefinitely, banned from contact with the cubs, and Draco was still months away from being able to complete his transformation, so they couldn’t even visit that way. Not that Sirius didn’t care about Draco, or Draco about Sirius, but Remus understood Draco’s quiet moods in a way Sirius seldom could.
The dreams are nice, but that’s all they are, dreams. And something in us knows that.
Aletha dipped a stick into the fire and held it up, watching it burn down. She imagined Danger taking the flame in her hands and spinning it deftly into thread, Remus catching the end of it and whistling sweet, sharp notes to weave it into a complicated web, which would hang shining on the air before twisting into crowns and necklaces and bracelets for Hermione and Meghan and a fiery ball for Harry and Draco to bat back and forth between them...
She tossed the stick into the fire. We need each other. We’re like that web — strong as long as all the parts are there, but take away one strand and another, and it starts to weaken. We wove our lives together to make ourselves stronger, but we never thought of what would happen if we had to be apart...
The wind picked up, blowing past her. Aletha felt a sudden and almost unbearable need to be part of it, ride it, let it carry her and move her as it willed. She poked her head into the tent. "I’m going out for a fly," she said. "I should be back soon."
"All right." Sirius didn’t even look up from the diagram he was drawing for Harry. "Now if the Chasers move over here..."
Aletha chuckled as she let the tent flap fall. I do love them, but they have such one-track minds some days.
A quick Disillusionment Charm, and she stepped into the main aisle and transformed. Hooves beat the ground, great wings swept up and down again, bearing her aloft. Trumpets sounded in her mind, clear and triumphant, proclaiming her victory over gravity, however temporary. In the air, she had no troubles and no burdens, nothing could catch her or hurt her. She was invincible. It was always so, even when she did not fly with her own wings. The air was her friend. She loved it.
xXxXx
13 August
Black —
No need to be rude. I think I can get it for you after the Cup is over. Meet me near my tent an hour after the match ends, and don’t tell anyone, or the deal’s off.
— Nott
xXxXx
The Weasleys arrived the day of the match and set up camp a few spaces down from the Pack’s tent. Since Ginny was the only girl in their party, the Pack had agreed to take her in with Hermione and Meghan, so that the Weasleys didn’t have to bring another tent just for her.
"Going to be crowded in here," Padfoot muttered, staring at the small bedroom where Hermione and Meghan had slept the last two nights. "We might have to get a bunk bed in..."
"Wait a second," said Harry. "Don’t the Weasleys have an extra bed?"
"I think they do. Why?"
"Because I can sleep over there for as long as the Cup lasts. Then Ginny can have my room."
"That’d work. Let’s check it with Arthur and make sure."
Mr. Weasley was more than amenable. Within the hour, Harry was clearing the last of his things out of the room. "The bed on the right is more comfortable," he told Ginny as she dropped her pack on the dresser. "And if Hermione starts yowling in her sleep, just bang on the wall."
"Yowling?"
"She did it last night." Harry tipped his head back to demonstrate. "Owwwwrrrr, owwwrrrr, owwwrrrr..."
Ginny had her hands over her ears. "I think I understand," she said. "Do you howl in your sleep, then?"
"I don’t think so. Maybe I will when I get more used to changing. How are you coming?"
"Well enough." Ginny shrugged. "I have two more of the partial transfigurations to do — one arm and my head — but I can’t understand how the spell works that will keep me thinking like a human while I have a lynx head. And that seems like an important one."
"More important for some than others. I’m not sure Ron ever thinks like a human."
Ginny chuckled. "He does seem to think with his stomach a lot. But he does more thinking than you realize. One of these days he’s going to surprise everyone."
xXxXx
Danger was in front of the Weasleys’ tent when Harry and Ginny got back, teaching everyone how to make what she called foil meals. Mr. Weasley, of course, was delighted to see this new piece of Muggle ingenuity, and everyone else was just interested in the food. Harry and Ginny took their turns assembling the meals, taking a piece of foil, placing ground meat and cut-up potatoes and onions on it, sprinkling on salt and pepper, folding the foil around it, and placing it in the fire to cook.
"It takes some time," Danger told them, "but when it’s done it’s delicious. And not a bit of magic about it — I used to do it with my parents in the back yard when I was little. They’re all yours, Arthur, they should be done within an hour — we’ll be over to claim our share about then." Danger ruffled Harry’s hair and dropped a kiss on Hermione’s head as she passed.
Harry took a quick count of the foil packets in the fire and came up with fourteen. "Are Padfoot and Letha eating here?" he asked Hermione.
"I don’t see why not. Danger brought the meat and the foil with her."
"Oh." Harry relaxed. He didn’t often think of the Weasleys as poor, but he was always careful to invite Ron and Ginny over to meals at the Den as often as Mrs. Weasley invited the cubs to eat at the Burrow. It was just good manners, really.
Ron and the twins returned with a kettle and a pair of saucepans full of water just as Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived. "There’s loads of people here we know," said Ron, setting the kettle on a rather precarious rig Mr. Weasley had built for hanging it over the fire. "Wood said hi, Harry — he’s just been signed by Puddlemere United for their reserve team."
"That’s great!" Harry poked at one of the meals with a stick, pushing it a little farther into the coals. "Who’ll be captain this year, I wonder, now that Wood’s left?"
"Usually decided by seniority, isn’t it?" said Ron. "Could be them." He jerked a thumb at the twins. "Though how they’d decide which one, I don’t know."
"They won’t do it," said Ginny. "They’re too busy with their joke shop to want to be captains of anything. It’ll probably be Angelina or Alicia. More likely Angelina, I think."
"And we won’t need any more reserve players either, because we’ve got two good reserves already," said Harry, leaning back contentedly. "You and Draco could both play almost any position — even Beater, you’d be good for, not that Fred and George are going to give it up."
"Maybe they’ll poison themselves with their concoctions," said Hermione. "Weren’t they looking a little odd last week?"
Ginny chuckled. "I don’t know what they’re working on, but if it’s supposed to make you sick, then they’re doing perfectly," she said. "Remember, Ron?"
Ron made a face. "I couldn’t walk past their room without wanting to hurl," he said. "Because that’s what they were doing. All the bloody time. Mum was starting to get suspicious of the smell."
Meghan came running along the path and slid into a sitting position between Ron and Harry. "Hello," she said breathlessly, grinning at them. "Look what I have." She pulled three fat gold Galleons out of her pocket.
"Where’d you get that?" said Ron and Harry simultaneously. Hermione and Ginny leaned in to look.
"Earned it," said Meghan smugly. "Dancing. Mr. Longbottom changed the silver to gold for me."
"You really shouldn’t do that," said Harry.
"Why not? It’s not wrong. I like dancing, and people like watching me dance. Why shouldn’t they give me money?"
"And that’s only half-shares, isn’t it?" said Hermione.
Meghan nodded. "Draco gets the other half for playing."
"You got three Galleons for dancing, and that was just half of it?" Ron looked amazed. "Maybe I should take up dancing."
"I’ve got a better idea," said Ginny. "Remember what we learned for the birthdays?"
"Yeah!" Ron’s eyes lit up. "I bet people would pay to see that!"
Harry’s scruples fought a brief battle with his avarice and lost. "We’ll have to do the singing a capella," he said. "Luna’s not here."
"We’ll manage," said Hermione. "There’s plenty of it that doesn’t have anything to do with singing anyway."
"I’ll go tell Draco and Neville." Meghan jumped up. "When?"
Harry sniffed. He could smell cooking meat. "Maybe in about an hour," he said.
"All right." Meghan was away again, dashing toward the Longbottoms’ tent. She nearly collided with a rather large blond man in yellow and black robes, who caught her by the arm.
"Careful, there, miss," he said with a laugh. "You don’t want to get hurt, not with the match tonight!"
Meghan smiled at him and ran on. Mr. Weasley looked up. "Ludo!" he called happily to the man. "Ludo Bagman, everyone, he’s got us our tickets... how are you, Ludo, how is everything?"
"Spiffing, Arthur, just spiffing. Look at that weather, will you — not a cloud in the sky. Who was that I just bumped into, d’you happen to know? Charming little thing, very sweet..."
"Her name’s Meghan, Meghan Black. Sirius Black’s daughter."
Bagman’s blue eyes widened further. "His daughter, you say? Oh, that’s right, you’re friendly with him — know his family — are all these yours, by the by?"
"No, only the redheads. This is Percy, he’s just started work at the Ministry..."
"Pleasure, Mr. Bagman, truly a pleasure," said Percy obsequiously. Ron made kissing motions upwards, causing Harry, Ginny, and the twins to have brief fits of laughter, while Hermione looked disapproving (though her lips were twitching, Harry noted).
"Bill, he’s with Gringotts, and Charlie, works with dragons in Wales — Fred and George, best of luck sorting them out — Ron, going into his fourth year at Hogwarts, and Ginny, in her third."
"A Weasley girl!" Bagman exclaimed. "I thought there were no such things."
Ginny smiled politely. "Now there are," she said, carefully removing her hand from Bagman’s grasp.
"But then, who are these two?" Bagman gestured at Harry and Hermione.
"Ron’s friends, Hermione Granger-Lupin and Harry Potter."
Harry kept a pleasant expression on his face as Bagman’s eyes performed the familiar flick upward, checking whether famous Harry Potter really did have the famous scar on his forehead. What are they expecting, I’m not who I say I am? Or everyone’s lied about the scar?
"Relax," murmured Ginny.
Harry realized with a small start that his fists were clenched, and released them. "Thanks."
"Don’t mention it."
Bagman was sitting down now, still chatting with Mr. Weasley, as Charlie picked up a hot pad and poured the boiling water from the kettle into a large number of assorted mugs. Bill began handing them around, and Percy took two, delivering one ceremoniously to Bagman. "Has there been any news of Bertha Jorkins, sir?" he asked a little timidly.
"Bertha Jorkins," said Padfoot from behind him. "Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in years."
Bagman nearly spilled his tea in his hurry to get up. "You must be Sirius Black!"
"Must I?" asked Padfoot whimsically. "I suppose I must. You’re Bagman, aren’t you? Magical Games and Sports?"
"I am, I am indeed — and this is your wife, is it not — but who might this be?"
Letha and Danger were duly introduced. Bagman glanced from Danger to Hermione but didn’t say anything, sitting down again instead.
"What were you saying about Bertha Jorkins?" Padfoot asked, taking a mug of tea from Charlie with a nod of thanks and handing it on to Letha.
"Oh, she’s gone missing," said Bagman, waving a hand dismissively. "Been on holiday for over a month now, gone to visit a cousin or something in Albania and just never came back. How do you know her?"
"We were at Hogwarts together," said Padfoot. "She was a year above me, but I got to know her well enough..."
"You hexed her enough times," Letha put in. "You see, Bertha had a crush on Sirius. She used to follow him around to see who he was kissing this week, and then tell the entire school. She hoped if she did it enough, he’d somehow be attracted to her — I don’t quite follow the logic myself, but it must have made sense at the time."
Padfoot scowled as Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys laughed. "You had to bring that up."
"Of course I did."
Bagman seemed to think it was funny as well, laughing heartily. "Anyone fancy a flutter?" he asked, jingling his pockets enticingly. "Loads of people betting, ought to be fine payouts..."
"I’ll put a Galleon on Ireland," said Mr. Weasley thoughtfully.
"To win?" asked Bagman, his face falling slightly. "Very well..." He pulled a scroll out of one pocket and noted it down. "Any of you lot?"
Fred and George were whispering together. "Fifty-six Galleons, fourteen Sickles, eleven Knuts," said Fred loudly.
Percy nearly spilled his tea.
"Well, well!" Bagman whistled. "High stakes — men after my own heart! And what’ll that be for, then?"
"Krum gets the Snitch," said George. "But Ireland wins."
"Bit odd," muttered Harry to Ron.
"More than odd," Ron muttered back. "That’s all their savings — they wouldn’t bet it unless they were sure..."
"Ireland’s Chasers are awfully good," said Harry, thinking hard as he watched Bagman writing down Fred and George’s wager, ignoring Mr. Weasley’s attempts to stop him. "I suppose they could get Ireland more than a hundred fifty up, and keep them there."
"But Krum’s probably the better Seeker — you’re right, Harry. They’re right." Ron was frowning. "He’ll give them good odds, too, oddball bet like that. Wish I had some money, I’d go in with them."
"Hang on," said Harry, getting to his feet. He caught Padfoot’s eye and signed to him. Talk privately? Now?
Padfoot excused himself and got up as Fred handed Bagman a wand, which Bagman waved tentatively, only to have it whistle shrilly and turn into a toy locomotive. He followed Harry a few paces away. "What is it?"
"Can I bet too? May I?" Harry emended hastily.
"What on?"
"Same thing Fred and George did."
Padfoot frowned. "Harry, I don’t like you betting with Bagman. He’s just this side of respectable, Head of a Department or not. And he’ll drop your name everywhere if you register so much as a Knut with him. No."
Harry sighed, kicking at the ground. "I just thought..."
"No." The tone was flat and definite. Harry knew there was no appeal when Padfoot sounded like this. "However..."
Harry looked up. "However what?"
A smile was beginning to flicker on Padfoot’s face. "If you’re betting the same way Fred and George did, I might be willing to accommodate you myself. Four to one."
"Done," said Harry immediately. "Ten Galleons — no, fifteen."
"Fifteen? Are you sure? That’s quite a lot."
"I’m sure."
"All right, hand it over."
Harry rummaged in his pocket and found the required amount of gold. Padfoot took it and pocketed it himself. "No advances on your pocket money, now," he warned. "If you lose this, you lose it."
"I understand."
"Good. Let’s go see if lunch is ready yet."
Harry followed Padfoot around the corner of the tent and nearly ran into him as Padfoot stopped dead.
"Black," said a precise voice.
"Crouch." Padfoot’s answer was polite, but cold. Harry could feel ice in the single word.
Crouch? I know that name...
Then he placed it. Bartemius Crouch, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time of his parents’ deaths, the man responsible for Padfoot being sent to Azkaban without a trial. A cold anger to match Padfoot’s welled in Harry. If you’d just bothered to do what’s right... if you hadn’t been so damned sure you knew what was going on...
There would never have been a Pack, said a more reasonable side of him. Moony might never have met Danger. You wouldn’t have Hermione as your sister, or Draco as your brother.
Enough arguing with myself anyway. Harry stepped around Padfoot and got a look at the man. Mr. Crouch, unlike most of the wizards around them, could have walked down a street in any city in England and got no attention at all. His suit and tie were immaculate, his hair and mustache strictly groomed, his shoes highly polished. Harry understood perfectly why Percy, who now worked for Crouch, spoke so well of him. He was obviously a strictly by-the-book type of man, and Percy respected that.
But he wasn’t always that way, if the stories are true...
"Thank you, Weatherby, but not now," said Mr. Crouch, waving away the tea Percy was trying to hand him. Harry carefully avoided Ron’s eye, since bursting out laughing in front of two Department Heads of the Ministry was not his idea of a good time. "The Bulgarians will be looking for us, Ludo, we should go..."
"See you in the Top Box!" Bagman told them cheerily, handing Fred his empty mug and jumping up. "I’ll be commentating on the match from there!" With a friendly wave from him and a frosty nod from Mr. Crouch, both wizards Disapparated.
Ron exploded first, but Harry wasn’t far behind, and the twins and Ginny tied for third place. "Weatherby?" Fred choked out, staring at Percy, who had gone rather pink. "He calls you Weatherby?"
"Yes, well, he’s a very busy man," said Percy brusquely. "He doesn’t have time for insignificant details."
This set Padfoot and Danger off. Percy stared at them, offended. "They’re not laughing at you," said Letha, who was sitting suspiciously still herself. "It’s only that you’ve just described yourself as an insignificant detail."
Luckily for everyone present, Danger recovered enough at this point to examine one of the foil meals and proclaim them done, and eating took priority over laughing at Percy.
After lunch, for which Letha had fetched Meghan by means of a Patronus messenger, the Pride went to find its remaining two members and prepare to start their money-making venture.
"There’s just one thing," said Harry. "I did some investing. If you want a share, tell me now."
"Investing in what?" asked Ginny.
"The World Cup. I bet the same thing Fred and George are betting, only with Padfoot, and he gave me four to one."
"That’s pretty good," said Draco. "How much?"
"Fifteen Galleons."
"Fifteen?" Ron looked awed. "That’d give you sixty if you win!"
"I know. So anyone who wants in, just tell me."
Everyone did. "That works out well, actually," said Hermione, scribbling figures on a scrap of parchment. "If you just keep whatever we make today, up to fifteen Galleons — if we make that much — then you’ll be paid back for all our shares, and then if we win..."
"When we win," said Ron. "Fred and George wouldn’t bet on anything less than a sure thing."
"If we win," Hermione reiterated, "we can all share that money equally."
Agreement thus made, the kitchens of the various tents were ransacked to find quick equivalents of knightly gear (the box of foil Danger had brought was much appreciated) and the seven members of the Pride betook themselves to a clear spot by the wood where they could begin their brilliant scheme. Neville began to clop together the two coconut shells his mum had conjured for them, Harry assumed the proper knightly stance, and together they galloped forth. Hermione and Draco were already ensconced in a tree to be the answering voices in the castle.
The "I’m not dead" scene (featuring Draco with the cart, Ron as the carrier, and Meghan as the dead person) had an audience. The scene where Sir Bedevere (Hermione) judged a witch (Ginny) had a larger audience. "The Knights of the Round Table" had a chuckling audience. And the scene with the Frenchman in the castle had a cheering, laughing audience.
By the time they had finished everything they had learned, ending with Neville and Hermione, dressed as Aurors, coming onto the scene to arrest King Arthur and his knights, they had what looked like half the camp watching them, and applause and cheering rippled through the crowd as they took their bows. Quite a lot of people pushed forward to toss money into the hat.
"That was great," said Ron, grinning and waving at the last of the audience, some rather giggly girls who looked like first years.
"No kidding," said Harry, hoisting the hat. "There’s at least five Galleons in here — and I mean Galleons, as in gold. I don’t even know how much in silver and bronze."
"Let’s get counting, then," said Meghan. "We won’t have much time before the Cup starts."
"I can do it with magic," said Hermione. "But it’ll have to be where no one can see."
"Be still, my heart!" Ron clutched at his chest. "Hermione Granger-Lupin, breaking rules!"
"I am the daughter of a Marauder, you know," said Hermione, scowling at him. "Come on, in here, so no one sees this..."
In the shelter of the trees, Hermione waved her wand at the hat. The Galleons rose up and landed in a pile to one side. "Six," she said. The Sickles were next, stacking themselves in neat piles of eight and nine, one each to a group. "Seventeen, and five left over." The Knuts were last. "Three Galleons’ worth, enough to make up that one of Sickles, and forty-two more. So that’s..."
"Twenty-seven Galleons," said Neville, who had been keeping notes. "One Sickle, thirteen Knuts."
"Wow," said Ron, staring at the money. "That’s a lot. And that’s just from one afternoon — imagine what we could make in a day..."
"This was special circumstances, though," said Draco. "We had this big crowd here, with not much to do, and all worked up already. And most of them had never seen anything like what we were doing. We couldn’t get that kind of response from a Muggle crowd. Most of them have seen that."
Ron nodded. "But we got a lot this time," he said. "Fifteen for Harry leaves twelve for the rest of us — two for each. Works out nice, doesn’t it?"
"And that’s on top of the ten you got for doing it the first time," said Hermione. "You’re making out like a bandit on this. Or maybe a pirate."
"Arrrr," growled Ron, scooping two of the piles of silver towards him. "This be my share of the loot, mateys."
A game of pirates occupied the rest of the afternoon happily.
As they headed back to the tents around dusk, Harry bought Hermione and Ginny Omnioculars, but Ron insisted on paying for his own, grinning happily as he handed over the ten Galleons Charlie and Tonks had won him. Draco, too, could purchase his own, and Neville and Meghan refused politely. "We’ll be so much farther down that we’ll be able to see without them," Meghan said.
Draco handed around green rosettes which squealed out the names of the Irish team, and everyone bought a program, which had a velvet cover with tassels hanging from the top of the spine. Ron purchased a figurine of Viktor Krum, which walked around on his hand and scowled at the green rosette on Ron’s chest. Ginny used her two Galleons from the afternoon to buy eight hats with dancing shamrocks on them. "One for Luna," she said. "Even though she couldn’t be here."
"See you in the Top Box," Draco said to Harry and Hermione as they reached the Longbottoms’ tent.
"See you," said Harry. "Have a good game, Neville."
"I will. You too."
"Have a good time, Pearl," Hermione told her sister, hugging her. "Don’t fall out."
Meghan made a face at her. "Like I would."
"Don’t fight," said Letha, coming out of the tent. "Really, tonight of all nights."
"Yes, save the fights until tomorrow," advised a man’s voice, and Danger peered out of the tent, grinning. "They’ll be so much more fun when you can see what you’re fighting about."
"I wish you wouldn’t do that," Harry said. "It’s scary."
Danger winked one very blue eye and pulled her head back inside.
"That was Mr. Moony, wasn’t it?" Ron asked as they walked back to the Weasleys’ tent. "Talking through her?"
"They can do that," said Hermione. "It’s really scary sometimes when you’re not expecting it."
"It’s scary when you are expecting it," said Ron. "And weird."
A gong boomed out over the camp, and red and green lanterns burst into life in the trees, in two straight lines, illuminating either side of a path. "That’s it!" said Mr. Weasley, coming out of the tent rubbing his hands together. "Let’s go!"
xXxXx
Draco said goodbye to the Longbottoms when they reached their seats and kept climbing. The witch at the entrance had told him to head straight back and all the way up.
"How much farther?" whined a familiar voice ahead of him. Draco hurried his steps a little, peering ahead.
"I told you, Theodore, we shall arrive when we arrive."
"But my legs hurt. How far up are we going to be anyway?"
Draco couldn’t resist. "If it rains," he said grandly, "we’ll be the first ones to know. Excuse me?"
The Notts, father and son, stared at him as he trotted past. Three more flights brought him to his destination, and he saw that only one seat in the front row was left open.
"Ah-ha," said Fred Weasley, looking around. "There he is."
"You see, sir, there is someone else with us," said George, addressing — Draco stared — the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.
"He just got delayed a bit."
"Not his fault in the least."
"Thanks," Draco muttered, edging in front of the twins to take the seat between Harry and Hermione.
"Don’t mention it," said George grandly.
"But aren’t you glad now you never killed us?" asked Fred.
Nott, sitting down gingerly beside a house-elf clad in a tea-towel, gave Draco a scathing look. Draco matched his glare. After the match, he mouthed.
"I have it, don’t worry," Nott muttered. "You’ll get it back. My word of honor on it."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "What honor?"
Nott flushed and didn’t answer.
A bunch of Bulgarians were now sitting beside Nott’s father, and a wizard with a very round and excited face had just charged into the Top Box. "Are we ready, Minister?" he asked Fudge.
"As soon as you are, Ludo," Fudge said comfortably, settling into his seat.
xXxXx
Hermione, Ginny, and Draco descended the stairs from the Top Box first, since they were meeting other parties lower down. "So what’s sixty Galleons divided by seven?" Ginny wondered aloud.
"We’ll work it out," said Hermione. "That’s really amazing, that it came out just like Fred and George thought it would..."
"It’s like Ron said," said Ginny. "They’d only bet if they were sure. That was all their money. And it really paid off — what odds did he give them on that? Eight to one?"
"That’s at least four hundred Galleons," said Draco, shaking his head. "Lot of trick sweets there."
"Four hundred? I don’t think so," said Padfoot’s voice from a side door. "I only owe Harry, or should I say the Pride, sixty."
"We meant Fred and George," said Ginny. "They have at least four hundred. Probably more like five."
"I should go on down," said Draco, edging away.
"Draco, it’s unlikely anyone will notice us right now," said Letha quietly. "Come just for a second."
Draco hesitated for one moment, then hurried into the box where Padfoot, Letha, and Meghan had been sitting. It was respectably high, only a few feet below the goalposts, and closer to the Bulgarian end than the Irish, but they would have been able to see more of the action here.
He took all this in over the course of one second. Then Padfoot was hugging him, and he was hugging back. He’d missed this, missed it desperately.
If I could just tell them about this feeling — like he’d fight off anything that wants to hurt me, with his bare hands if he has to —
But he couldn’t tell anyone that. It was too embarrassing.
Not even if it meant you could go home again?
He put the thought away for later consideration as Padfoot released him. "You’ve been very brave through this, Draco," he said. "We’re all proud of you. It should be over soon, we hope."
"I know." Draco debated for a moment with himself, then dropped to one knee and bent his head. Padfoot placed a hand on the back of his neck, and Draco fought back tears.
There’s nothing to cry about, he told himself sternly. Don’t be a baby.
But the action had filled the last of the unhappy emptiness within him. He felt stronger now, ready to go on. "Thanks," he said, standing up. "See you soon."
"See you." Padfoot clasped his hand briefly, then let him go. Letha, Meghan, and Danger escorted him into the hallway to hug him goodnight.
Even the Ministry can’t keep this up much longer. I’ll probably be home in time to leave for Hogwarts.
But first he was going to retrieve his lion. And that would happen tonight. He’d pulled Nott aside while everyone else was celebrating the Irish victory and set a definite time and place for their meeting — one hour from now, by a certain tree with both a red and green lantern in it.
I can handle him myself. Nobody has to help me.
xXxXx
Theo stood under the tree, holding a small bag in one hand. The words Black had spoken to him still smarted.
"What honor?"
He doesn’t think I have any honor. He doesn’t think I can be trusted.
And he’s right. He stared at the bag he was carrying. He shouldn’t trust me. Dad knows I’m here, and why. He helped me write those letters, he gave me the lion to give back to Black, and told me not to touch it myself. I’m almost certain he did something to it. But I don’t know what.
He looked at his watch. One minute until their appointed meeting time.
I’ll go find him and give it back to him, and warn him there might be something wrong with it. I’ll do that. That’s right. That’s honorable.
He got about ten paces before running into something that knocked him flat on his back.
xXxXx
Draco cursed under his breath. Of all the bad luck, to run smack into Nott as he was approaching — he’d have to reveal himself now, show Nott he had an Invisibility Cloak...
Or maybe not. He slipped quickly between two of the nearby tents, took off the cloak, and stepped out. "What happened to you?" he said as Nott picked himself up off the ground.
"Don’t know." Nott sounded surly. "Listen, there might be something wrong with this. I don’t know what. Be careful with it. Here." He thrust the bag he was carrying at Draco. "Now get out of here. Hurry."
"Oh, no. Not until I see this really is what you told me it was." Draco walked back to the tree and opened the bag.
"Don’t touch it!" Nott half-shouted.
"Why not?" Draco stopped with his hand already in the bag.
"I — I think there might be something wrong with it. I told you that."
"Something wrong like what? A contact poison?" Draco peered into the bag. His lion peered back at him innocently.
"I don’t know! Just — take it and get out of here! Please!"
Draco’s eyes narrowed. "Why are you so intent on getting me out of here?"
"I — I can’t — you have to go. You just have to. You can’t stay here — it isn’t safe..."
"You keep saying that. Give me a reason."
"I can’t!"
"Why not?"
"Theodore?" called a man’s voice from somewhere fairly close by.
Draco dived on Nott before he could answer, clapping one hand over the other boy’s mouth and drawing his dagger with the other. He pressed the point into the soft skin under Nott’s chin. "Not a sound," he hissed. Nott’s eyes were very big as he made small but frantic up and down motions of his head.
Draco dug out the Invisibility Cloak with his now free hand and threw it quickly over both of them. "Hold still," he whispered, lying down beside Nott. "Pull your legs in."
Nott obliged just in time, as two men in cloaks walked into the small clearing where the boys lay at the foot of the tree. Draco squinted. One of them was Nott’s father — but he knew the other as well...
"I thought you said they’d be here," Christopher Curcio said to the elder Nott.
"This was the spot Theodore mentioned. Perhaps they went elsewhere."
"We can’t put it off much longer, Patroclus. Everyone is getting restless. You may have to forgo your excellent excuse, and introducing your son to our pleasures, a while longer." Curcio chuckled. The sound made Draco’s skin crawl. "But soon enough it will happen, will it not? He always said he would return to us..."
"He will be angry," said the elder Nott nervously, scanning the night around him. "He’ll want to know why we lied."
"And we will tell him the truth — that we wished to be fit and well to serve him once more, that we wished to build up wealth and possessions to give to him. Don’t fret so much, Patroclus, you’ll get old before your time. Now come. The boys will wait. Our enjoyment will not. The Muggles await." A nasty chuckle. "Or rather, the Muggles are blissfully unaware."
"All right, Christopher, I’m coming. Jumped-up half-blood," the elder Nott muttered as Curcio slipped away between two tents. "Don’t think I don’t know you had Muggle great-grandparents..."
Draco counted a slow thirty after both men were gone before he moved, pressing the point of his dagger into Nott’s skin again to keep the other boy still. Finally, he uncurled and sat up. "Nice," he said, staring at Nott. "Really nice. Going to meet me here alone, were you? Alone, as in without anyone else around?"
"I told you, didn’t I? I told you before it happened."
"Five seconds before. Nice try."
"They didn’t see us." Nott fingered the Cloak admiringly. "Is this an Invisibility Cloak?"
"None of your damn business." Draco snatched the Cloak off them. "Going to deny your dad’s a Death Eater now? When they were talking about someone they serve, someone who they want to return, who’d be angry if he knew they lied?"
"You won’t tell..." Nott’s tone was almost pleading.
"Who’d believe me? Beyond my own family, who don’t really matter anyway because they don’t give the Ministry loads of gold? Just tell me one thing, if you know. What are they going to do to Muggles? Where are they even going to find any?"
"The... the campsite manager, I think he is," Nott said hesitantly. "They were talking about a cottage, and going in fast, about not hurting them but just having a bit of fun..."
"I can think of a lot of things that wouldn’t hurt someone but wouldn’t be classified as fun," Draco snarled. He couldn’t possibly get back to his own section of the camp in time to warn anyone — the Death Eaters would undoubtedly Apparate to the cottage, terrify the Muggle family within — and they were likely to be drunk, liable to misfire spells, one of the most common side-effects of a spell gone wrong was fire, and they were surrounded by flammable tents...
There, see?
Draco froze. What the hell? The voice was male, triumphant, indubitably in his head, and just as undoubtedly not his own.
I told you he’d be in danger again soon, the voice went on smugly. And they haven’t used nearly all the magic in that jewel yet.
This is really stretching it, Alex, a female voice warned. You won’t be able to pull this one off again.
I don’t think I’ll need to.
Draco groaned. This was all the situation needed. At least he knew who it was now. Alex, get out of my head. Please.
What’s wrong, you don’t like me?
I like you fine. But unless you’re going to help me talk to someone who can do something about this...
Well, as a matter of fact, I was about to do that very thing.
You were? Nott was staring at him, but that didn’t matter. How?
You may recall your conversation with Hermione got cut off rather abruptly about a month ago? That was me, conserving some of the magic from that jewel she used. I knew you’d need it again, and now you do. I submit, as your honorary ancestor, that danger has not yet passed you, and that the jewel link should therefore be reactivated.
I agree with whoever else that was. This is really stretching definitions.
If you’d rather not be able to get through... The voice was huffy.
No, no, that’s just fine.
Good. The next voice you will hear will not be mine.
Fine with me.
"What’s wrong with you?" Nott said in a high-pitched voice. "Your eyes keep doing some weird swirling thing. And they’re changing colors. They were green for a second, and now they’re brown..."
"I’m talking to people in my head. Dead people." Draco gave Nott a maniacal grin.
Nott scooted rapidly backwards, still staring.
"And now I’m going to talk to live people." The link with Hermione was active, he could feel it. Neenie!
Draco? Her shock was palpable. What did — how — you didn’t use your blue already, did you? No, never mind, what’s wrong?
See for yourself. He spread the pertinent memory before her and focused his own attention back on Nott. "I’d run, if I were you," he said. "Into the woods. Get anything out of your tent that you want to keep. Tents burn easy."
"Nobody’s burning anything," Nott said uneasily, standing up. "They’re just going to play with the Muggles..."
"How long do you think they’ll stay controlled?" Draco challenged. "How long will they keep from just blasting anything that’s in their way? Don’t be stupid. Get in the woods and stay there."
Nott nodded dumbly, then turned and started to run away.
"Nott!" Draco watched Nott turn back, his face white above his robes. "I was wrong. You do have honor. A little, anyway. You did warn me."
"Thanks." Nott turned and vanished amid the tents.
Draco sat down and covered himself with the Cloak again, hugging his lion through the bag. What’s going on there? he asked Hermione, grateful beyond measure for her busily humming presence in the back of his mind — thank you, Father, for that, he thought ironically.
Padfoot cursed a little, then started sending people places. Letha and Meghan went to get the Longbottoms, Ginny and I are going to get the Weasleys. Padfoot wants us to do what you told Nott to do. Run in the woods and hide.
I’ll meet you there, then —
No! Hermione’s vehemence almost hurt his ears, even though he couldn’t hear it. He said to stay where you are — either Harry or I will come for you in animal form, find you and guide you back. Then we’ll all go on together.
All right. I’ll stay here, or go a little farther in the woods if things start going wrong. Draco frowned as he felt a thinning, stretching sensation in the back of his mind. Do you feel...
I do. I think we’re using up the magic — it was almost gone anyway, it was only luck that there was this much left...
Luck and something else — or someone. Tell you later.
All right. Love you. See you in a minute.
You too.
She was gone. He was alone.
No, not really alone. Never really alone. His hand found the Pack-pendants. Never really alone with these. Or with this. He squeezed the lion in its bag.
xXxXx
Although Draco did not know it, he was even less alone than he had thought. And far safer.
Few would dare dispute the right of a lion to his cub on open ground.
xXxXx
It seemed like hours later, but was only about ten minutes by his watch, when a soft whuff from the darkness told him Harry was near. "Here," Draco whispered, pulling out his chain. "Where are you?"
Wolf emerged from the trees, showing himself for a moment then blending back in with the darkness and the night (the lanterns in the tree had gone out a few minutes before).
"Here, put this on." Draco tossed the chain out through the Cloak, willing it intangible to the fabric. Wolf nosed at it, then got a purchase and wiggled his head under it.
You all right? he asked.
Fine. You?
Fine. Come on, they’re waiting.
Draco stood up and started to follow Wolf, grinning. I feel like I’m out for walkies.
Don’t even start. Wolf’s tone was filled with gruff humor. I could walkies you right into a tree, you know.
Yes, but then you’d have to explain it.
True.
A distant explosion caught both their ears. What the —
Damn it, they weren’t in time. Wolf stared into the distance. Do you see it?
See what?
The light.
Noooo... wait, yes. Draco squinted, blocking the light from the nearby lantern with a hand, and could just make out a faint green glow in the distance. What does it mean?
Dark magic of some kind, I assume. Let’s keep moving.
People had started to scream now, and Draco winced at each new flash of light. Wolf sneezed. I smell smoke, he said grimly. Someone’s setting fire to things.
Probably tents. Draco kept his eyes on the green light, and suddenly saw two dark objects floating in midair. What are those?
Wolf trained his eyes on them as well. People, he said angrily. Muggles. The campsite manager and his wife, I think...
Draco, staring at the floating people, tripped on a tree root and fell. The lion squirted out of its bag and off into the darkness. He swore.
I’ll get it, said Wolf, and trotted off, returning a moment or two later with the stuffed toy in his mouth and a look of disgust on his face. Blah. He spit it out. What have you been doing with this thing? Playing in the sewers?
"No." Draco snatched the lion up and stuffed it back into its bag. "You shouldn’t have done that — Nott said something about it not being safe to touch..."
Now he tells me.
"You didn’t give me a chance!"
No way to fix it now. Come on, we’re almost there.
Indeed, a few moments brought them to a huddled group at the edge of the forest. Hermione had her arms around a shivering Meghan. Neville had wrapped his coat around them both, and Ron was holding Ginny close.
"We’re back," said Harry, reassuming human form. "Let’s get somewhere safe."
"If there is anywhere safe," muttered Ron, looking over his shoulder at the two floating figures.
"Safer," said Draco. "For Hermione especially."
"Why me?"
"They’re playing with Muggles now. How long before they move on to Muggleborns?"
"Good point," said Ron. "Let’s go."
The Pride slipped into the forest. People pulled out wands to light the way, but Harry hesitated. "What’s wrong?" Neville asked him.
"I can’t find my wand."
"Can’t find your wand?" Hermione repeated. "When was the last time you saw it?"
"I don’t know. I think before the match, even."
"You could have dropped it, I suppose," said Ginny doubtfully. "But you were in wolf form most of the time you were out here, and you can’t drop things then..."
"You probably left it in the tent somewhere," said Meghan. "You leave things lying around all the time."
"But not my wand." Harry looked uncomfortable. Draco could sympathize. Being without a wand in the magical world left you very exposed to other people’s wishes and whims.
Something rustled in the bushes. Everyone whirled.
"Bad wizards!" squeaked a high-pitched voice, and the house-elf in the tea towel from the Top Box struggled out of a bush, her movements oddly jerky. "Bad wizards, making peoples fly up high in the air! Winky is running, Winky is hiding where bad wizards is not finding her!"
"Why can’t she run properly?" asked Ron in confusion as the house-elf disappeared across the path.
"Maybe her master told her to stay put," said Neville. "House-elves don’t like disobeying. It’s actually physically hard for them to do."
A wisp of memory drifted across Draco’s mind — he was laughing as Dobby smacked himself in the head with a flatiron... "They sometimes punish themselves for disobeying," he said. "Do things like shut their fingers in doors or hit themselves."
"Ouch!" Meghan winced in sympathy.
"Let’s keep moving," said Hermione, glancing over her shoulder as an explosion went off at the campsite.
They moved deeper into the wood, passing groups of people as they went. The girls carefully steered the boys away from a trio of veela, for which Draco was grateful — he hadn’t been as affected as Harry or Ron when they had started dancing on the field, but he wasn’t eager to test out his apparent immunity (which Ginny had joked might be caused by his having some veela blood) with a close encounter just yet.
Finally they found a small clearing where no one seemed to have come yet. Everything was quiet. Harry and Hermione reassumed their Animagus forms, and Ron took out his figure of Viktor Krum and set it down on the ground. Cat-Neenie immediately began stalking the Quidditch player, and Ginny and Meghan and Neville came running to watch. Draco sat down with his back against a tree, feeling weary and dispirited.
I just want to go home.
Wolf sat down beside him and nuzzled his fingers. "What, you wanna scratch?" Draco rubbed his brother’s ears. "There you go."
Wolf convoluted his body and turned into Harry again. "I thought I smelled something," he said. "Another animal, out there." He pointed. "But I might have been wrong. It was just a trace, like something was there and then gone."
The boys got to their feet to peer into the darkness. "Stupid," said Harry, after a moment. "I should..." He broke off and mumbled something else, and shrank and twisted back into Wolf. Raising his nose, he sniffed. Draco pulled out his chain again and tossed it around Wolf’s neck.
Something was there, said Wolf. But it doesn’t smell like a threat. It’s... familiar, but not... like I should know it, but I can’t place it. But... His sense flashed with alarm. Everyone, quiet!
"Shh!" Draco said aloud. "Harry hears something."
The clearing fell silent, and the sound became apparent to all — footsteps, ragged and uneven, as though someone were injured and staggering towards them. Harry resumed human form once more, frowning fiercely. "Hello?" he called. "Is someone there?" Draco had his wand pointed towards the thicket, as did Ron and Neville and Hermione —
And then a voice shouted from that direction, and not a panicked scream, either.
"MORSMORDRE!"