Dealing with Danger
Chapter 34: One Man's Meat (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 34: One Man’s Meat
Snick. Snick. Click. "There, done."
Harry looked up. "Done?"
"Done." Ron was holding Meghan’s Rubik’s Cube on his palm, every side a solid block of color.
Harry stared. "How’d you do that?"
"It’s very easy," said Ron patronizingly. "You turn the little boxes until they line up like you want them to. Watch." He turned one side of the Cube all the way around. "See?"
Harry scowled. "I mean, how did you get all the colors right?"
"It’s not all that hard. It’s a lot like chess, actually, except easier. You have to see it the way you want it to be, and then backtrack from there, to what it should look like one move from there, and two, and three, and so on until you find something that looks like what you have."
"How is that easier than chess?" Neville asked.
"With chess, you have to be thinking about your opponent, too, and working out how to get them to do what you want. With this, your only opponent is the Cube. And yourself, if you don’t think you can do it." Ron tossed the Cube to Meghan. "Thanks."
"I just want you to know, that made absolutely no sense," said Ginny. "What you said about backtracking. Nobody thinks like that. It’s backwards."
"Well, maybe that’s why Fred and George always claim I’m backwards."
Everyone had a good laugh over this.
"So that’s how you always win at chess," said Draco. "By looking at the board and seeing where you want the pieces to go, and working backwards from there."
"Kind of. With chess, like I said, I have to figure out what my opponent likes to do, and play to that without giving up too much. And cover for any weaknesses I might have. But basically, yeah. Within about the first fifteen moves, I get a feeling where the game is going to go."
"Sort of like Quidditch," said Harry. "After the first few minutes, you can tell if it’s going to be a Chasers’ game, or more on the Beaters, or all down to the Seekers."
This effectively redirected the conversation for the rest of the train ride.
xXxXx
Meghan was nearly jumping out of her skin by the time the train slowed down and stopped. She’d been in her Hogwarts robes for an hour, and her gray-striped tie was knotted around her throat. She couldn’t wait until it turned red and gold, and the school crest over her heart was replaced with the rampant lion of Gryffindor.
I’m finally going to school. Really and truly going to school. I’ll learn everything faster than everyone else and be the greatest Healer in the world.
Harry grabbed her in a headlock. "I think I just won’t let you go down to the boats," he said. "I’ll keep you with us, and that way you won’t get Sorted, and you’ll have to wait another year before you can go to school."
Meghan growled and clamped her hand around his, willing him to let her go now. Harry yelled and yanked his arm away, shaking it. "What the hell, Meghan? That hurt!"
"Good," said Meghan, rubbing her throat. "Serves you right."
"What’d she do, shock you?" asked Hermione, putting her book away.
"No, it was more like... pain. Just pain."
Meghan smirked. Nobody touched her whom she didn’t want touching her.
"You’d better get going," said Draco, waving to the door, where the corridor was starting to fill with chattering students.
"We’d all better get going," said Harry. "Everyone got your pets? And raincoats?" he added, peering out the window. "It’s wet out there."
"You can hold Trevor if you like," Neville offered in the corridor as the Pride was jostled towards an exit. "For luck."
Meghan stroked the toad’s warty back. "There, now I have luck," she said.
"That’s not how you transfer luck," said Luna from behind them. "You have to do it another way."
"But we don’t have to get into that right now, do we?" said Draco hastily.
Neville winked at Meghan, who pressed a hand over her mouth to stop herself giggling.
Freezing cold rain was bucketing down on the platform. "All right, Hagrid?" Harry shouted over the thunder, fighting his way through the crowd with the rest of the Pride behind him.
"All righ’," Hagrid answered in a slightly subdued bellow as a group of third years cleared out of the way. "Where’s Meghan, then?"
"Right here," said Meghan, coming forward. She glanced over her shoulder once. Hermione and Luna nodded hard, Ginny and Harry gave her a thumbs up, Ron and Draco grinned, and Neville brushed a finger against the corner of his mouth. Meghan felt her face heat briefly as she did the same in reply, then joined the other first years behind Hagrid.
"See yeh at the castle, if we don’ drown first," said Hagrid jovially to the Pride. The other first years shivered and moaned as the Pride squelched away, ignoring Hagrid’s bellows of "Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!"
"What’s wrong?" Meghan asked the nearest girl to her, a timid-looking brown-haired thing.
"We’re gonna drown! He said so!"
More voices began to chime in. "I’m scared of the water!"
"I can’t swim!"
"My brother says there’s a giant squid!" This came from a very small, very excited, mousy-looking boy bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Are you Meghan Black? He told me about you! He said you’ve been to Hogwarts before, that you lived there and were a Healer’s apprentice..."
The rest of the first years, hearing this, crowded around Meghan, questions flying thick and fast.
"Do we really have to wrestle a troll?"
"Do we have to do magic right away?"
"Are they gonna feed us?"
"Are they gonna feed us to something?"
Meghan tried not to laugh, but it wasn’t easy. "We’ll get fed as soon as we get there," she said. "We’re going by boat, but we won’t drown. Nobody ever drowns in Hogwarts lake. It’s very safe. And they’re not going to feed us to anything. None of the professors bite." Not anymore. She looked at the mousy boy. He resembled a third year who was always following Harry around. "Is your brother Colin Creevey?" she asked.
"Yeah!" He looked ecstatic that she knew his brother’s name. "I’m Dennis! I hope I’m in Gryffindor too, just like him, and Harry Potter — he says you’re Harry Potter’s sister!"
This set off another round of questions, mostly having to do with Harry, which Meghan was spared having to answer by Hagrid’s gruff command to "foller me, now, and no stragglin’, we’d never find yeh again in this weather."
Meghan tried not to think longingly of the warm, dry, thestral-pulled carriages that were transporting Harry and Neville and everyone else to the castle as she plodded down the slick, rain-swept path. She was right behind Hagrid, which helped a little, but the wind kept changing direction, so there was no way to be sure from one moment to the next where the rain would come from. Everyone was thoroughly soaked by the time they got down to the lake.
Meghan got into a boat without having to be told. Dennis Creevey followed her in, as did a girl with hair that looked as if it would be strawberry blond when it was dry and a boy with black hair so neatly slicked down that even the pounding rain couldn’t really change it much. "Graham Pritchard," he said, offering Meghan his hand.
"Meghan Black. Pleased to meet you."
"Thank you. Are you really Harry Potter’s sister? I thought he was an only child."
"I’m his godfather’s daughter. We grew up together."
"I see. And you are?" Graham addressed the strawberry-blond girl.
"Natalie McDonald." She shook hands with Graham and Meghan a bit nervously. "I’m... what do you call it... I didn’t know there was any such thing as magic."
"Muggleborn," said Graham and Meghan at the same time.
"Wow, me too!" squeaked Dennis. "But I knew there was magic because of my brother — he got Petrified by a basilisk his first year and had to go to summer school to make up for it and Mum and Dad were so amazed when I got my letter too — Mum was so happy she screamed, and Dad talked to God a lot..."
"FORWARD!" shouted Hagrid, and the boats moved out. Meghan gripped the side as the first waves hit and felt her stomach suddenly churn.
Oh no. I’ve never really been on a boat before...
All thoughts of hunger vanished. She was now fighting merely to stay upright and breathing and not throw up in front of her new year-mates. It had never occurred to her that she might suffer from seasickness.
"Here," said a quiet voice, and something small and circular appeared in front of her face. "Chew on this. But be careful, it’s spicy."
It certainly was. Meghan gasped as the tang hit her throat. But it worked — the nausea began to decrease as soon as she swallowed once or twice. "What is it?"
"Ginger pill. I have to take them when I go anywhere, so I don’t get sick." Natalie gave her a timid smile. "Mum always says they work like magic."
Meghan nodded carefully, so as not to make things worse. "They do. They really do." The boats were plowing forward through the waves. Meghan found that if she fixed her eyes on a point far ahead and kept looking at it, she felt better.
That was how she missed seeing Dennis lose his grip and fall in. She heard him, though — his scream was abruptly cut off by a splash, and Natalie and Graham both yelled. Meghan snapped her head down, staring, as Dennis surfaced, spluttering and waving his arms —
And then as he rose out of the water, a tentacle wrapped around his waist.
"Wow!" he shouted above the storm. "Look at me! I’m flying!" The tentacle let him go, and he thudded onto the bottom of the boat. "I flew! I really flew, but without a broomstick!"
"You didn’t fly," said Graham a trifle scornfully. "It was the giant squid."
"The what?" Dennis’ voice went up another half-octave with excitement. "The giant squid? But I thought they ate people!"
"This one is different," said Meghan quickly. "The magic at Hogwarts changed it, so now it’s friendly." Natalie looked scared enough as it was. She didn’t need to think about things in the water that ate people. "It goes swimming with the students sometimes in the summer, and splashes them."
"Heads down!" shouted Hagrid, ending their conversation for the moment as they all ducked to pass under the ivy.
"I heard we have to get sorted out," whispered Natalie as they climbed out of the boats. "What’s that about?"
"School Houses," said Graham before Meghan could speak. "There are four of them, based on personality, because the Founders of the school felt their students would be most likely to make friends with other people like themselves. Dormitories, meals, and classes are based on what House you’re in."
"My brother’s in Gryffindor!" said Dennis, squeezing water out of his hair. "That’s where all the brave kids go!"
"Yeh all right there?" said Hagrid, approaching the boy. "I saw yeh fall in..."
"I’m fine, I’m just fine..." Dennis sneezed.
"Fine," grumbled Hagrid, taking off his overcoat and wrapping it around the boy. "Catch yer death o’ cold fine. Here, hang onta this fer a while. Get yerself warm. I’ll come back fer it later. Come on, now, up ter the castle with us."
"What are the other Houses, then?" Natalie asked as they trooped up the tunnel.
"Ravenclaw is for smart people, and Hufflepuff for loyal and hard-working," said Meghan. "And Slytherin..." She hesitated, not wanting to prejudice the girl but not knowing how to put it either.
"Slytherin is for ambitious people, who want to make something of themselves," said Graham. "I think that’s where I want to be."
"My brother says Slytherins are all Dark wizards!" piped up Dennis, and Meghan felt a strong urge to reach over and smack him. For the first time, she had an inkling of how she must sometimes appear to the older members of the Pride.
"They’re not all," she said quickly, forestalling Graham’s rejoinder and wincing as they stepped out into the rain again. "Not any more than Gryffindors are all good. People can be brave and bad, or ambitious and good. But my mum says it’s easier to turn bad if you’re ambitious, because you can listen only to your ambition and not your conscience."
"My father told me much the same," said Graham in faint surprise. "He warned me not to listen to any of the older Slytherins who told me Dark magic was the way to get stronger faster."
"Are you pureblood?" Meghan asked, hearing the slightly odd way Graham talked.
He nodded. "Six generations. But we don’t think Muggleborns are scum, if that’s what you’re after."
Meghan smiled. "I think we can be friends, then."
"I think I’d like that." Graham looked at Natalie and Dennis. "All of us."
They had reached the stone steps by now. Hagrid knocked at the door, which was quickly pulled open by Professor McGonagall. "Inside, all of you," she said sternly, standing aside to let them in. "Quickly, quickly..."
Natalie relaxed as the little group stepped inside, out of the rain. "It’s so pretty," she whispered, looking around the entrance hall.
Meghan giggled a little. "Wait till you see the Great Hall."
Professor McGonagall led them into the antechamber and gave her usual pre-Sorting talk, explaining the Houses and so forth, then made for the door. Before she got there, though, she turned back. "Everyone, stand still," she commanded, drawing her wand.
The first years went utterly rigid, a few of the Muggleborns staring at the wand in terror.
"Aridus," Professor McGonagall said, waving the wand in a large circle. Meghan sighed in relief as her clothes dried. Dennis dropped Hagrid’s overcoat to the floor, patting at his robes in amazement.
"Wow! Meghan, that was real magic! Graham, Natalie, that was real magic! She did real magic! She’s the Head of Gryffindor House, isn’t she? I hope I’m in her House!"
Meghan closed her eyes as Dennis kept chattering. The few moments until Professor McGonagall came back to lead them into the Great Hall seemed much, much longer.
"How do we get Sorted?" Natalie asked as they formed a line. "She never said."
"It’s a secret," said Meghan.
"But you know, if you’ve been here before," said Graham. "Or weren’t you allowed to come to the Welcoming Feasts?"
"I was allowed, but I’m not supposed to tell. And you’ll know in a minute anyway."
They filed into the Great Hall. Meghan found the Pride easily by dint of locating two red heads and a silver-blond one in the same general area. They were all looking at her anyway. Dennis was waving and grinning in the same direction, towards his brother Colin, Meghan had no doubt.
There was the usual wave of gasps when the Sorting Hat began to sing, but by the end of the song, Meghan was surprised herself. The Hat had once belonged to Gryffindor? She hadn’t known that. Was it his mind that did the Sorting, then? Or his magic?
"Ackerley, Stewart!" Professor McGonagall read out, and the named boy, shaking all over, came forward to sit on the stool and put on the Hat.
"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat shouted after only a moment, and Stewart ran for the cheering table like a mouse for a hole.
"Baddock, Malcolm!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
Graham watched Malcolm Baddock go to his seat, his expression considering.
"Black, Meghan!"
"Good luck," Natalie hissed in her ear. Meghan lifted her head high and went forward.
The Hat fell onto her head, blocking out her view of the Hall, and of her nervous-looking Pride. "Well, well, finally here," said the small voice she’d heard so much about. "So you’re the great tradition-breaker, are you."
Meghan’s face heated a little as she recalled what she’d said two years ago at the Welcoming Feast, the year Dadfoot and Mama Letha had taught.
"No question about talent or brains, you get those from both sides of the family — your father may act silly, but he’s only a fool when he cares to be, and your mother has her own unique qualities, qualities she seems to have passed down the line. Loyalty too, without a doubt, and courage... but isn’t this interesting, you want to ‘learn everything faster than everyone else, and be the greatest Healer in the world.’ Well, only one place for a young lady like you — your talents would be best placed in SL..."
Meghan gasped and flung a hand up, squeezing shut the rip that served the Hat for a mouth. NO! she thought at it furiously, as gasps and giggles filled the Great Hall. No, no, no, no! I don’t WANT to be a Slytherin!
"Are you sure? You said you like to break with tradition, and this would do that for you... as well, if you want to be great, Slytherin’s the place to be..."
You didn’t even ASK me! I thought you were supposed to find out where we wanted to be!
"I’m supposed to put you where you belong. There’s a difference." The Hat’s tone had turned distinctly lecturing. "However, since you insist, where do you want to be?"
That’s more like it. I want to be a Gryffindor.
"Indeed. You’re sure you wouldn’t prefer Ravenclaw? Heir of the Founder and all?"
Will it mess up my magic if I’m in Gryffindor?
"Oh, not at all, but I simply thought I should ask." The Hat sounded quite put-out. "Now, if I have your permission..."
Meghan scowled. I want to be with my Pride.
"Very well, very well. GRYFFINDOR! Though I do wonder what you’d have done if I’d said Slytherin anyway," the voice added quickly, in the second before Professor McGonagall removed the Hat from her head.
"I’m flattered, Miss Black," said the Head of Gryffindor House dryly, looking down at Meghan as she got off the stool. "Just bear in mind that you may not always be able to treat others as you did the Hat."
"Yes, Professor." Meghan ran towards the Gryffindor table and the waiting hugs of the Pride.
"Look at your pendants!" shouted Hermione over the cheering.
Meghan looked down at her chest. A red light glowed faintly through the black material of her robes. She grinned. One of my jewels turned, just like Maura said it would.
She settled into her seat to watch the Sorting.
Dennis Creevey was placed in Gryffindor, to Harry’s discomfiture. Meghan leaned over to him. "I’m sorry for all the times I bothered you," she said. "I understand now."
Natalie’s turn came, and she sought Meghan’s eyes before the Hat fell over her face. A few moments later, it had shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and the table was applauding.
"Come sit with us!" Meghan shouted, moving down on the bench to make room. "Everyone, this is Natalie. We were in the same boat on the way here."
"Well, we’re all in the same boat now," said Ron, reaching his hand across the table to shake hers. "Ron Weasley, nice to meet you."
Natalie giggled a little, shyly.
"Pritchard, Graham!" called Professor McGonagall. Meghan turned to watch.
"Can a Gryffindor have a friend in Slytherin?" she asked as the Hat ruminated over Graham.
"I suppose it depends on the Slytherin," said Hermione. "And the Gryffindor. Why do you ask?"
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Oh-ho," said Draco, chuckling. "You’ve got competition, Captain."
Meghan glanced quickly at Neville, but his face showed almost no expression.
When Graham got to the Slytherin table, he turned to look towards the Gryffindors until he found Meghan and Natalie. He grinned at them a little and waved, and they waved back. Meghan saw whispering and talking among the Slytherins as Graham sat down. I wonder what they’re saying.
The last person was Sorted, Hat and stool were removed, and Professor Dumbledore stood up. Meghan smiled to herself to see his hands, both, to a casual look, perfectly healthy. "There is much I wish to tell you," he said. "But none of it more important than this. Enjoy the feast."
Natalie gasped as food materialized on the tables. Meghan slapped Ron’s hands away from a platter of chicken she was reaching for herself. Ron spluttered. "I — but — Hermione!"
"What?"
"You’ve got your sister nagging me now!"
"I wasn’t nagging," said Meghan, returning the plate to its original place, minus three pieces (two for her and one for Natalie). "I was taking it for myself."
"Oh. Sorry." Ron helped himself to chicken as well.
Hermione had a small, secretive smile on her face as she took a serving of roast potatoes.
Nothing was really different about being a student, Meghan thought as she ate. The food didn’t taste any different — well, it would have been difficult for it to taste better, and she certainly didn’t want it to taste worse. The same people were around her, more or less — Percy Weasley was gone, and Oliver Wood and the others from his year, but the Pride was still there, the Weasley twins, and the Chasers on the Quidditch team, along with everyone else she’d come to know living in Gryffindor Tower for two years. So what was different?
It’s because now I really belong, she decided finally. No one knew what to do with me before. I was here for different reasons than everyone else. But now I’m just one student in a whole bunch of first years. Now I’m no different than any of them.
I’m here to learn and study.
She repressed a groan as she recalled what that would mean.
Homework. Reading and essays and diagrams and tests! Why did I want to do this again?
Well, because it’s the only way to become a Healer. Because it’s the only way to become a grownup, educated witch.
And because as much work as I may do, at the end of the day I’ll still be with the Pride.
That’s what matters most.
Natalie choked on her carrots as Nearly Headless Nick popped up through the table. Meghan grabbed her friend’s wrist and cleared her throat with a tiny burst of magic. "What’s that?" Natalie demanded, pointing at Sir Nicholas with a shaking hand.
"Well, what do I look like?" asked Sir Nicholas, smiling politely at her.
Natalie looked ready to dive under the table. "It talks!"
"Natalie, this is Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington," said Meghan, retaining her hold on Natalie’s wrist. "He’s the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower. Sir Nicholas, this is Natalie McDonald. She’s new."
"So I see. A pleasure to meet you, Miss McDonald." Sir Nicholas tipped his head to her and glided away.
Natalie nodded dumbly, still staring at Sir Nicholas. "A real ghost," she whispered, staring after Sir Nicholas. "It’s a real ghost..."
"Yes, he’s a real ghost," said Harry. "There are lots of them at Hogwarts. There’s also Peeves, but he’s a poltergeist and they’re different from ghosts. If he bothers you, just threaten to tell the Bloody Baron."
"Who’s that?"
"The Slytherin ghost," said Draco, pointing. Everybody turned to look. The Bloody Baron was presiding over the Slytherin table from one end. "He looks hacked off about something..."
"Peeves, as usual," said Sir Nicholas, drifting back their way. "He made an almighty fuss in the kitchens, terrified the house-elves, nearly ruined the feast. You’re lucky there’s enough for everyone."
Ginny laughed. "This is Hogwarts, Sir Nicholas. They always make more than we could eat in two days. Peeves could ruin half the feast and there would still be enough for us all."
"True enough, true enough."
"Say, why does Peeves listen to the Bloody Baron anyway?" Ron asked.
"Seniority," said Sir Nicholas. "The Baron’s the most senior ghost on the premises, and one of the most closely tied to the school. I’m merely here because I loved the place so in my youth, and because the Headmaster at the time granted my petition for residency. The Baron actually died here — though he’s very closed-mouthed about where and how, you understand. Embarrassed, I’d think. It can’t have been a pretty death, I mean, just look at him..."
"Sir Nicholas?" said Hermione delicately. "We are eating."
"Oh, terribly sorry."
The Hall quieted again after puddings had been finished. The only sounds audible as Dumbledore rose once more were those of wind and rain. The storm, visible on the enchanted ceiling, had not let up.
"As I believe our older students have come to expect, I have a few start-of-term notices for you. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind all students that the list of items banned in the hallways may be found on his office door. As quite a number of things have been added over the summer holidays, it would behoove all of you to examine the list closely."
"If anyone wants to go that close to Filch," muttered Ron.
Dumbledore continued. "The forest is forbidden to all students, as is Hogsmeade village to those below third year or without parental consent. And finally, at this time it is traditional to announce times for Quidditch tryouts. Unfortunately, there will be no Quidditch tryouts this year, as the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be taking place."
Meghan could have sworn she heard people’s jaws dropping. Harry had just managed to gasp out "What?" before shock rendered him speechless, and Draco and Ron both seemed unable to speak at all.
"However, in its stead," said Dumbledore, raising his hands conciliatorily, "a very special event, one that has not occurred for more than a hundred years, will be hosted at Hogwarts. It will begin in October and continue through the rest of the year, affecting all, but one in particular. It is my pleasure to announce that this year, here at Hogwarts—"
The doors of the Great Hall slammed open simultaneously with a deafening thunderclap.
xXxXx
"Padfoot’s always on about how being an Auror is dangerous," said Harry as the Gryffindors headed for their Tower. "But Merlin, you look at Moody and you can just see."
"Magic can heal so much, too," Meghan added. "It means every time he got hurt, he was somewhere he either couldn’t get away from or where no one could help heal him."
"Or maybe he just wants to look extra scarred and scary," said Hermione. "Maybe he thinks it’s part of his job."
"Scars hurt, though," said Draco. "Why would you keep them if you didn’t have to?"
"I can’t wait to have a lesson from him," said Ron, jumping the vanishing step. "It’ll be brilliant. Stories from the front lines. He was probably in on every big battle in the war, and since."
The cubs exchanged small smiles. They knew one place Mad-Eye Moody had been that hadn’t been a big battle.
"Mum and Dad always talk about him," said Neville absently. "I guess he was really important in the Auror Office."
"I think he was the Head of it," said Ginny. "Back during the war. But Charlie said he’s getting really paranoid now, thinking everyone he meets might be a Dark wizard in disguise."
"Well, in a war, everyone you meet could be a Dark wizard in disguise," said Luna.
"But we’re not in a war now," said Hermione. "The war’s been over for years."
"It might still start again," said Harry quietly. "He’s not dead."
"I know, Harry, but do we have to talk about that right now, and in present company?" Hermione shot a look over her shoulder at Meghan’s new friend Natalie, who was listening to the conversation wide-eyed. "Why don’t we save it for some other time and place."
"All right, all right." Harry, too, looked over his shoulder at Natalie, with the consequence that he walked straight into Luna and Ginny, knocking them both over. A nearby suit of armor began to laugh creakily.
"Shut it, you," said Ron, slamming its visor down with one hand as he offered the other to help Harry up.
xXxXx
"So what d’you reckon about the Tournament, then?" said Ron as the fourth year Gryffindor boys prepared for bed.
"Nothing to do with us," said Seamus. "You heard Dumbledore. Only students who’re of age — and I wouldn’t like to try to fool anything Dumbledore sets up. He’s old, but he’s not past it yet."
"Besides, who wants to do something people die in?" added Dean Thomas. "Glory’s all very well, but I’d like to be alive to get it, thanks."
"But a thousand Galleons." Ron’s face was rapt. "That’s more than... some people... make in a year." Absently, he bent to take something out of his trunk.
"You know, I didn’t really get a good look at those in Diagon Alley," said Draco, coming to Ron’s side. "Good Lord, when were they fashionable, eighteen ninety or something? And maroon, too. You always seem to get maroon stuff."
"Eat dung," said Ron, shoving Draco away and returning his dress robes to the bottom of his trunk.
"You know, Hermione’s not bad with a needle," said Draco, picking himself up off the floor. "Or Ginny either. Maybe, if you asked them really nicely, they’d see what they can do about those."
Ron frowned. "Do you really think so?"
"They can’t make them worse," said Harry. "Give it a try." He knew Hermione would just be swapping out the horrible excuses for robes with the new ones Danger had bought at Diagon Alley, but Ron couldn’t know that.
"Maybe I will. But tomorrow." Ron found his pajamas and shut his trunk. "What’s wrong with you, Cap’n?" he asked, looking in Neville’s direction. "You’re awfully quiet."
"Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking." Neville was sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking at something small in his hand. "You might not know much about that."
"Ouch," said Draco, grinning. "Direct hit."
"Near miss," said Ron airily. "I dodged."
"No, you didn’t have to," said Harry. "It was aimed at your head, and there’s nothing there to hit."
He barely blocked Ron’s Jelly Legs Jinx in time.
xXxXx
Remus fell onto his bed with a sigh. His own bed, not the one at the hastily rented flat that had always smelled a bit musty no matter what he did to it.
Having the cubs off at Hogwarts means I can live at home again. If they come home unexpectedly, I’ll have to leave, but short of that, I’m fine.
He was already beginning to reacclimatize himself to the sounds and smells of the Den, the soft but unrelenting pulse of Pack-life. It might have overwhelmed some, but to him, it was invigorating and comforting.
Even if I have other news that is certainly not comforting. It’s not necessarily bad news either, but it’s not the sort of thing to inspire long and undisturbed sleep.
His petition to have Hermione’s guardianship assigned to him in the magical world as it was in the Muggle had run up against the predictable legal snag that werewolves were not allowed to adopt children, even children to whom they had acted as parents. Charles Scribner, acting on Remus’ behalf, had filed a second petition, asking for the overturning of the law, or at least its revisal.
"This automatic assumption that no werewolf is fit to be the guardian of a child is outdated," Scribner had said in the preliminary hearing. "Barring an entire class of people from certain basic rights smacks of medievalism. Applications for parental rights should be considered solely on the merits of the person and home involved. If a werewolf is conscientious in guarding his or her transformations, no undue peril is present for a child, or for any person."
It sounds pretty. But will it fly?
He was going to find out. The custody hearing was set to begin near the end of November, and Scribner had warned him that one thing was probably inevitable — Hermione would be asked to testify.
"It’s her guardianship you want, so they’ll want her in court," the lawyer had said. "And when she is, you’ll have to be doubly careful not to seem to communicate with her at all. Any communication, even a smile, might be seen as you somehow intimidating her."
Remus smiled now. I wonder how intimidated she’d look if the first thing she did when she entered the courtroom was ran over and hugged me. But I could always have delivered a threat to her by proxy, promised unspeakable punishments if she didn’t show proper affection...
For God’s sake, why can’t they just all believe their eyes and ears? We are a happy family, we’ve done nothing wrong, and we’d be much better if everyone would stop obsessing over what I am and let us get on with our lives. And this has the potential to do good in other ways — I can think of several werewolves I met back during the war who could have turned their lives around if they’d just had incentive to do so — one even had a niece, who wanted to be with her Auntie Cassie, but couldn’t...
He let his eyes close and daydreamed. Summer again, and the Pack was all together, celebrating something, or maybe just being Pack. Aletha was spraying dog-Sirius and wolf-Danger with the hosepipe while the two snapped and bit at the stream of water. Harry and Draco were having a water bomb war in another part of the yard, and Hermione and Meghan were sunbathing in yet another. Remus could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his face...
He opened his eyes. It wasn’t the sun leaning over him, but it was close enough for his purposes.
We’ve missed you, Danger told him, coming down the last few inches for her kiss. Dinner’s almost ready. Come on downstairs.
Gladly. Remus finished the kiss and stood up. I’ll be sad not to see the cubs more often, but at least now we’re allowed to write.
Very true. And you’ll be seeing them often enough. Have you and Albus set a time for that first lesson?
Not yet. I’ll have to write him about that. Maybe we can meet in the Hog’s Head... I know he has connections there...
xXxXx
"Blast-Ended what?" said Aletha.
"I can’t quite make it out. It looks like ‘Skrewts.’" Sirius held the letter up to the light. "Yep. Skrewts."
"Never heard of them," said Remus. "What are they like?"
"Apparently, they can sting you, suck your blood, and burn you all at once," said Sirius, still reading. "No, wait, my mistake, they can all burn you, but only the males can sting, and only the females suck blood."
Danger shook her head. "I get the feeling Hagrid’s floundering a little with his classes," she said. "Just because he likes a certain animal, he thinks everyone else will too. Anything else interesting?"
"Let’s see." Sirius kept reading Hermione’s letter. "Snickering in Slytherin quarters over that article in the Prophet by Rita Skeeter."
"You mean the one where they got Arthur’s name wrong?" asked Aletha.
"That’s the one. Attempted murder by Ron foiled by Harry and Draco, all quiet on the northern front."
"No surprises there," said Remus.
"First class with Mad-Eye was... I can’t read this word, there’s too much underlining." Sirius handed the parchment to Aletha.
"Amazing," Aletha supplied, then went on reading, her eyebrows lifting a bit. "He chose the first class to introduce them to the Unforgivable Curses..."
"What?"
"He never!"
"Which he demonstrated for them on spiders," Aletha finished, frowning. "Ron didn’t care for it on general principles, Draco looked scared when Moody showed them the Imperius, Neville went over funny with the Cruciatus, and Harry didn’t say anything all class after Moody pointed him out as the only person ever to survive the Avada Kedavra."
Sirius let his hand fall to the table. "He’s lost his mind," he said. "He used to do that spider trick with the incoming class of Auror apprentices, but they’re adults, and they know what they want to do with life, or at least they think they do. These are kids! Fourteen-year-old kids! And some of them have had very bad experiences with those curses, or things very like them!"
"And he can’t hear you, so would you please stop shouting at the letter?" Aletha said, chuckling.
"Oh. Sorry." Sirius subsided. "I just got carried away."
"I’m not surprised," said Remus. "Does she say anything else about how they are, how they recovered at all?"
Aletha skimmed the letter quickly. "They got better fairly fast," she said. "Moody took Neville off to his office for a chat and lent him a book on magical water plants. She doesn’t say it straight out, but I get the feeling she helped Draco get over whatever it was bothering him. And Harry..." She grinned. "You’ll be proud, Danger. Harry disappeared after dinner and returned a couple of hours later with enough biscuits for all of Gryffindor House."
"That’s my boy," said Danger, pumping her fist into the air. "Cream that butter! Whip those eggs! Be a cruel cook, your ingredients will thank you!"
Aletha joined in the general laughter. "He had some interesting news as well," she said when it had died down. "Apparently Barty Crouch’s former house-elf now works at Hogwarts."
"Is that so." Sirius shook his head. "Poor little thing. What did it do, I wonder, to get him so worked up? It can’t have been just running off when he told it to stay put..."
"It could have been," Remus countered. "Crouch is a rule-follower through and through. He’d never keep on a house-elf that wasn’t as well."
"But where’s he going to find another one? Unless his already had a litter..."
Danger was staring at him open-mouthed.
"Sorry," said Sirius, having the grace to look a little ashamed. "But that is how a lot of the older pureblood families do things with house-elves. They have them bred, like animals."
"Ugh!" Danger shook her head. The motion continued down through the rest of her body. "Nasty."
"I know, I know. House-elves almost always have multiple births, though, so the two families are both assured another one. Mum kept breeding records almost as obsessively as she kept that damned tapestry. Didn’t want inbred house-elves — they’d lose what sense they had."
"And how do the less rude types of families manage their house-elves?" Aletha asked with a wry twist in her smile.
"A lot of them don’t have house-elves at all. They do their chores themselves, or hire them done. But James’ mum and dad had one, and she was married to someone else’s elf, because James’ mum would scold her about making sure she was back on time from her visits to her husband, and the elf would nod really hard until her ears flapped." Sirius tried to duplicate this feat, but was forestalled by not having the sort of ears that generally flapped. "They were both playing, of course, it’s how the civilized purebloods handle that little thing about elves needing to be lorded over."
"Well, thank God there are some decent people out there," said Danger fervently.
"Are those marriages arranged, or self-chosen?" Remus asked curiously.
"Self-chosen, I’d assume, or what’s the point? Otherwise all you’ve got is breeding them by another name, and that’s no good." Sirius leaned back in his chair. "I think I even remember James’ mum making arrangements to buy a house-elf from one of the... other pureblood families, because one of her house-elf’s sons had seen this one and fallen madly in love with her."
"And who’s to say that just because they’re small, they can’t love?" asked Aletha. "That sounds like prime fodder for a Valentina Jett tale. Romeo and Juliet, house-elf style."
"Say, that’s not a bad idea." Sirius sat up. "They’re bound to two families who detest each other, but they start to meet on the sly, punishing themselves afterwards, of course..."
xXxXx
Remus had his meeting with Dumbledore, and alternate Thursdays were set up for those members of the Pride who had not yet achieved their full Animagus transformation to continue their work under his eye. Their first session was held in an empty classroom, but they knew it would be moved often, to keep anyone from finding out what was going on.
Ron gave up in the second week of classes and asked Hermione for help with his incantation.
"Let me think," said Hermione, tapping her quill on her parchment. "How about... ‘When I fly high, I see patterns and sights that other people miss. I fly between others and danger if I must, but I never stop looking for prey.’"
"I like that," said Ron. "Only, what’s that last bit mean?"
Hermione grinned. "It means you’re always hungry."
Ron spattered her with ink from his quill.
xXxXx
Near the start of October, Professor Moody held an intensive class on the Imperius Curse, which involved putting members of the class under it. "Anyone who wants to leave, leave now," he said, stumping around the room examining each of them in turn with his mismatched eyes. "I’m not doing this to anyone who’s not ready for it."
Draco was very pale, Harry noticed, but he didn’t move.
"All right, here we go then."
Hermione was first. Under the Imperius, she took a scroll of parchment from her bag and tore it to shreds. When Moody took the curse off her, she looked horrified, until a flick of his wand restored it to normal. Seamus Finnegan performed a step-dance for everyone, and only seemed sorry he couldn’t have seen it himself. Parvati Patil thought she was a rabbit, and hopped about the room until Harry yelled "Boo," at her, at which point she ran for cover under one of the desks.
"All right, Potter, you’ve just volunteered to be next," said Moody with a small, grim smile. "Up you come."
Harry walked into the middle of the classroom and watched Moody Summon a desk. Then the gnarled wizard pointed his wand at Harry. "Imperio!"
Harry’s muscles all relaxed a little as an immense, dreamy happiness fell upon him. He didn’t have to think... he didn’t have to worry or wonder about anything... it was a glorious way to be... if only that pesky heat against his chest would go away.
This isn’t right, said a small, annoying voice in the back of his mind. This isn’t the way things are supposed to be...
Jump onto the desk, Moody’s voice commanded, overriding the smaller voice. Harry nodded slightly and bent his legs. He would obey — that was right...
He’s not your alpha. He’s not even Pack. Why obey him?
Jump onto the desk.
Wolves don’t do tricks unless they want to. Especially not stupid ones like that...
Jump! NOW!
Harry gasped in pain as he collapsed to the floor. He had apparently tried to obey both commands, with the end result of smashing into the desk head-on, or rather knees-on.
"Well done, Potter!" growled Moody, bending over him and tapping each knee with his wand. Harry let out a breath of relief as the pain vanished. "Did you see that, you lot? Potter fought it! Damn near had it beat, too! Watch his eyes — you’ll be able to see it there — let’s do it again, Potter, up you get..."
This time, Harry was prepared, and managed to throw off the Imperius a little more quickly and completely. The third time, he was out almost before Moody was in, and the ex-Auror let him go. "Black, what about you?" he said, beckoning Draco forward.
Draco walked into the middle of the room and fixed his eyes on Moody’s face. "Ready, sir," he said quietly.
"Imperio!"
Hermione’s hands were working in her robe, her lips were white where she was biting them. Ron and Neville were staring at Draco, just as everyone was. Neither he nor Moody had moved since the spell was cast.
Draco stiffened. His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. "No, sir," he said in a very tense, almost strangled voice. "I won’t."
Moody lifted his wand, and Draco sagged, catching himself on the corner of the desk Harry hadn’t jumped onto. "Nicely done," Moody said in quiet approval. "You’re a natural, boy. Or maybe it was just that suggestion... afraid I couldn’t resist. Want to have another go?"
"No, sir."
"All right, back in line. Weasley, you’re up."
xXxXx
Hermione slid two fingers onto Draco’s wrist. What in the world...
None of your business. The wrist pulled away sharply.
"Well, I’m sorry for trying to help," Hermione whispered huffily.
xXxXx
"What did he want you to do?" Harry asked Draco as they walked out of the classroom.
"Is that all anyone cares about today? What he wanted me to do? I didn’t want to do it, so I told him I wouldn’t. What’s so wrong about that?"
"It’s not that it’s wrong, it’s that it’s impressive," said Neville. "No one else did that. Not even Harry could throw it off all the way first time."
Draco shook his head. "It’s still none of your business." He stalked off.
"Touchy," said Ron, skipping in place.
"I think he’s scared," said Hermione. "Scared of how close he came to obeying."
"The Imperius Curse is meant to make you obey," said Harry. "You’re not supposed to be able to fight it."
"But you could," said Neville. "You and Draco both."
"So we’re just too stubborn for our own good. You knew that already."
"’Scuse me," said Ron, heading off the same way Draco had gone. "I’ll catch you up."
xXxXx
"What do you want, Weasley?" Draco snapped, not turning around from where he was staring out the window of the empty classroom.
Ron shrugged in the doorway. "Just to say I thought that was pretty damn impressive. I couldn’t even think about disobeying — hell, I couldn’t think at all — and next thing I knew, I’d made a fool of myself in front of the entire class."
"How’s that different from what you normally do?"
"You are in a bad mood." Ron skipped a few times, moodily. "I’m still doing it, even. But you just threw it off. Was it a lot of work?"
"Yes."
"All right, no need to shout at me. I just wanted to let you know it looked really easy. But I guess that’s like that cube thing of Meghan’s, or chess, for me."
Draco didn’t move, but his posture altered a little. "Yeah. Kind of like that. It was actually one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And I don’t think I could have done it if I hadn’t been mad."
Ron nodded. "Understood. I’m off to dinner now. We’ll save a seat for you if you want to come."
"Thanks, but I’m not hungry."
Ron looked around quickly to make sure no one was coming. "Animagus tonight," he said. "You have to eat something, or Mr. Moony won’t let you practice."
"Bugger," said Draco tiredly, turning around at last. "You’re right. Fine, I’m coming."
They left the classroom together.
xXxXx
"Something wrong with him?" Remus repeated, sitting at the front of the classroom with Draco. Their lesson site this time was on the fourth floor, near the library. "Why do you ask?"
"When he had me under Imperius, he wanted me to grab my left arm and yell."
Remus frowned. "Your left arm."
"Like this." Draco clasped his left forearm loosely. "Like..."
"I see." Remus’ frown deepened. "Draco, I don’t think that’s anything particularly to worry about. Moody arrested Lucius, did you know that?"
Draco shook his head.
"And there was bad blood between them all through the war. Murder attempts will do that."
Draco had to crack a smile at this.
"So he may be projecting your father onto you, or conflating the two of you — it’s even possible that was his idea of a joke. Mad-Eye’s sense of humor always was a bit rough. So no, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. Now, why don’t you not bother about grabbing your arm anymore and show me you can transfigure it?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "I can try."
"What am I going to say?"
"Yeah, yeah, do or do not, whatever, Yoda. What happens when you go out to do, but you do not?"
Remus whistled a repeated note, which segued into a musical sequence. Draco smiled. "Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again," he chanted with the music.
"Very good. Now let’s see it."