Dealing with Danger
Chapter 38: The First Tasks (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 38: The First Tasks
Danger shrank against the brick wall. Time had slowed, had stopped. She’d be trapped here forever. “Go away,” she heard a shaking voice say. It took her a moment to recognize it as her own.
Greyback leered at her. “Frightened, princess? Scared of little old me? Or is it just that you don’t like the truth? This is what we all become, beautiful. Even the ones who fight it, even the ones who try, this is what they come to in the end. I thought I’d get a jump on the process.”
I can’t go for my wand, he’ll see that. Her thoughts tumbled over one another, scurrying forward just long enough to be seen before scrambling for cover again. I could flame him but then he’ll know, he’ll know I can do it, I can’t give it away like that – unless I kill him – but I can’t do that, I don’t want to kill again, please, not again –
Danger, what in God’s name –
Danger laughed aloud, explosively. “Well, I’m stupid,” she said aloud, opening her senses to Remus. “How could I not have realized that?”
Vaguely, she heard her love curse, felt him move quickly, decisively. He was coming. She had only to hold Greyback off for a few moments. Her fear was gone, though as she looked at him it started to return. “What do you want?” she said, for lack of a better question to ask to keep her enemy busy.
“Nothing like what you’re thinking.” Greyback chuckled, scratching his chin. “Though I can’t say I’d mind, if we met again sometime.” His eyes sized her up like a piece of meat in a store window, and seemed to decide it wasn’t quite what he wanted today. “But not now. I have a message for Lupin – I would have owled him, but it was just my good luck to see you here today. I thought you could pass it along to him...”
A small explosion of air hit woman and werewolf in the face. “Why don’t you tell it to me, then?” Remus said quietly from his place between the two, his wand already out.
Greyback didn’t move a step. “Yeah, why don’t I? Nice to see you again, Lupin. I was just telling your... wife... how well you’ve done for yourself.”
“Yes, I’d say I have done well,” Remus said neutrally. You’re all right?
Just fine – he hasn’t touched me. He stinks, though.
“Getting into court now, I see. What’s the matter, tired of this one already?” Greyback looked over Remus’ shoulder at Danger. “Need a fresh one, younger, more limber? You must like the look, or maybe the taste, if you’re taking it from the same stock.”
Danger trembled with Remus’ rage, but Remus himself sounded perfectly calm. “One more insult, Fenrir, and you won’t have to wait for the full moon to taste blood.”
“Widdle puppy’s growing fangs!” Greyback simpered. “I’m so proud!”
“Say what you came to say and leave.”
Greyback drew back a pace, his eyebrows up. “Do you give me orders?” he asked in a tone Danger recognized. It was the one Remus used when Harry or Draco was getting out of hand.
“I don’t obey you, Fenrir. I’m not of your pack.”
“Liar,” Greyback growled, moving forward again, two steps, three, staring down at Remus. “I made you what you are. You’re mine.”
Without taking his eyes from Greyback’s, Remus scuffed a line on the ground with his foot. “Come and take me, then.”
The silence lasted four heartbeats, six, eight. Neither man moved, neither spoke.
Well, this could get boring, Remus sent to Danger.
Greyback flinched ever so slightly.
What was that?
I don’t know...
Another flinch.
Danger grinned to herself. On second thought, maybe I do. May I come in?
Of course, but why?
Watch this. Danger poured herself into Remus, leaving her own body behind as fully as she dared, and through his eyes watched the other werewolf step back, unnerved, then break off eye contact and turn away, shaking his head.
Danger leapt back to her own body so that Remus wouldn’t have to smile with her, although she knew he would anyway. The eyes have it, she said.
That’s truly awful. Excuse me while I take advantage of this.
Sure.
“You had a message for me?” Remus said aloud as Greyback turned to face him again.
“Yeah.” Greyback’s teeth were bared now, and Danger gulped as she caught his scent. He was mad and no doubt about it. Pissing him off might not have been the wisest of moves...
“Give it and get out.”
“Go right ahead with your little lawsuit,” Greyback said harshly. “You might even win it – I hope you do. Parental rights for werewolves’d be a fine thing for me, wouldn’t it?” He grinned savagely at them.
Danger felt sick. God, I never thought of that... if this opens the door for people like him...
“Suitability will still be an issue,” said Remus calmly. “And not even the best-bribed judge in the world would find you suitable to take care of a child.”
“Not even one with... problems of his own? Or her?” Greyback sniffed the air deliberately. “Sisters look that much alike, stands to reason they must smell alike too. I don’t think I’d have any problems finding a little girl who smelled like that...”
Danger shrieked angrily. Remus snapped up his left arm to hold her back, and, at the same time, thrust out his wand silently, and unnecessarily, Danger knew. Greyback had time for one startled yelp, and then flame was all around him.
Remus, no–! Visions of Quirrell rose in her mind.
Just watch.
The flames died. Greyback still stood in front of them, still alive, still with all his parts attached. Danger could see them perfectly clearly, since the werewolf no longer had any clothes. Or any hair. And every visible square inch of his skin was a bright, painful-looking red.
Like a terrible sunburn, Remus said smugly. All over him, all at once.
If you make me laugh in front of him, I shall do the same to you. Danger locked her lips into neutral and gave Greyback exactly the same kind of sizing-up look he had given her earlier, with the same rather contemptuous, “Not today, thanks,” eyebrow flicker at the end of it.
Do you think you can Apparate home?
Just stay with me.
Every step of the way, my love. “Stay away from my Pack,” Remus said to Greyback, tucking his wand away. “Unless you want more of this.”
Greyback hadn’t moved a muscle since the fire had vanished, except for his face – that was curling into an expression of purest hatred and anger, the sort Danger hadn’t been sure human beings could feel –
Of course, he’s not precisely human. By his own choice, but still...
She rose on her toes and shut her eyes, fighting to banish the hatred and focus on her destination. There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, she chanted in her head.
You forgot to click your heels, Remus said as everything hurtled away from her and invisible bonds pressed in all around.
Danger administered a mental smack.
xXxXx
Meghan and Natalie, smiling proudly, presented Hermione with a large stack of Support Cedric Diggory badges at lunch on Monday. By dinnertime, Hermione had made the necessary improvements to all of them, and Draco had thought to check with Professor McGonagall and get her permission to make “additions” to their uniform. The next morning, most of the Gryffindors took a badge on their way out the portrait hole, and by lunchtime, they were starting to pop up on robes with blue or yellow embroidery as well.
Harry was on his way back to the common room that night when he heard someone call his name. “Harry! Got a second?”
He turned and gulped – Cho Chang was running down the hall towards him.
“Er, hi,” he said, hoping his face wasn’t as red as he was afraid it was. “Hi, Cho.”
Cho smiled at him. “I like your badge,” she said.
“Thanks – Hermione made it for me. Out of the ones the Slytherins were wearing. You remember.”
Cho nodded. “I thought they were mean,” she said. “Is it true what I heard? You really didn’t put your name on that parchment I saw you put in the Goblet?”
Harry felt curiously light-headed – was it possible Cho, of all people, might believe the truth? “Yeah. It’s true. I just...” ...wanted to impress you. “...wanted to show I could do it. I was sure that parchment was blank – and I was right, there wasn’t any name on it, someone else must have put my name in, because it was a different slip, a different shape and all, it looked like it was cut off an essay...” He stopped talking, suddenly acutely aware that he’d been babbling.
Cho didn’t seem to notice. “Cut off an essay? Do you think a teacher did it, then? Maybe Snape?”
Harry blinked. That was a possibility that hadn’t occurred to him. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I mean, I know he doesn’t like me, but I didn’t think he’d do something like that.”
“Well, maybe he wouldn’t. He probably wouldn’t. It’s horrible of me to bring it up, forget it, but I couldn’t help but remember how Professor Lupin hit him last year, and the stories about him and Professor Black when they were at school, and I knew he didn’t like you...” Cho shook her head slightly. “Listen, what I wanted to ask you was, do you have an extra one of those badges? I think I’d like one.”
Harry closed his mouth quickly. “Sure,” he said, plunging his hand into his pocket and praying that he really did have one. “Sure.” A pin pierced his finger, but he felt no pain, only relief that he had what Cho wanted. “Here you go.” He pulled his hand out again and handed her the badge.
“Oh, you’re hurt!”
“I’ll be fine.” It was true. He knew his finger had to be throbbing, he’d stuck it badly, but he couldn’t feel a thing. “Thanks. For wearing it, I mean.”
“It’s only true.” Cho pinned the badge to her robes. “Thanks, Harry. I’ve got to go, but thanks awfully. I’ll see you later. I hope.”
“You too,” said Harry hastily as she hurried away.
Once she was gone, he jumped into the air and spun around, punching jubilantly upwards, then looked both ways, turned into Wolf, and chased his tail until he was too dizzy to stand. It matched his inner feelings perfectly.
Shetalkedtomeshetalkedtomeshetalkedtomeshetalkedtome...
xXxXx
On Wednesday, Harry and Hermione got identical notes in the mail.
Dear Mr. Potter/Miss Granger-Lupin, the notes read,
I’m terribly sorry for the bad impression I seem to have made starting out with you. I really don’t know what can have happened, and hope we can somehow straighten things out. As I understand it, you have some free time on Friday afternoon, between your lessons and dinner. Perhaps could we schedule a meeting somewhere? I know you’re not allowed to leave Hogwarts grounds, but nothing says I can’t come in. Perhaps a nice private chat in a classroom? Please respond promptly.
Yours,
Rita Skeeter
Harry handed Ron his note to read, with Ginny and Neville peering over his shoulders. Draco got Hermione’s and held it where Meghan and Luna could see. “Well?” said Harry when the last head came up.
“Well what?” said Ron.
“Should we go?” said Hermione.
“No,” said Draco, Neville, and Luna all at the same time.
“Why not?” said Harry, pointing at Draco.
“Because she’s trying to get you to say something she can blow out of proportion and make you look bad in the newspaper.”
“Neville?”
“Same answer.”
“Luna?”
“Because obviously, she wants to get you to drink some Preterro Potion, so you’ll think she’s your best friend and tell her everything she wants to hear. And then all your hair will fall out and you’ll have overactive tear ducts.”
“Obviously,” said Harry. “Who’s got a quill?”
The notes went back to Rita Skeeter with three words on each of them, not counting the signatures.
No thank you.
xXxXx
On Thursday, the Daily Prophet ran an article on the Triwizard Tournament. Or at least, the headline was about the Triwizard Tournament. The body of the story was about Harry Potter. It seemed that Rita Skeeter, if denied a personal interview, was not above talking to other people to get their opinions.
Harry refused comment on the subject of his parents, but a student close to him, speaking on condition of anonymity, said, “Oh, yeah, Potter cries for them sometimes at night. I used to hear him wailing all the time, calling their names and all. I don’t think he’s ever really got over that.”
All the Gryffindors swore they hadn’t said it, and no one could see how it could have been anyone else. “Of course, it could just have been someone lying,” suggested Draco. “Because I’ve never heard you cry for your parents at night, and I’m in a position to know.”
Colin Creevey timidly admitted talking with Rita, but denied telling her anything about crying – “but I did tell her you go around with Hermione all the time, because you do, and she was really interested in that... I hope you’re not mad... you’re mad, aren’t you? I’m sorry, Harry, I’m really sorry, I’m really, really...”
“It’s fine,” Harry said tiredly. “I’m not mad.”
Though I think I might go mad.
Because Rita had put her own interpretation on his going everywhere with Hermione.
Harry is seen everywhere with the lovely Hermione Granger-Lupin, whose name has been in the newspapers lately for reasons of her own. Perhaps these two famous, intelligent teens can find some measure of happiness together.
Harry had nearly chucked the paper across the Great Hall when he’d read this, and had to be forcibly restrained from sending his drink after it.
What part of “she’s my sister” does this woman not understand? he’d written home in a very angry letter that night.
An answer had come by return owl the next day.
Dear Harry,
Probably the part where there’s no blood between you. Don’t let it bother you too much – or, if it does, there’s a very simple way to stop the rumors. Find somebody else, go to a very public place, and snog her brains out. If you can get Hermione to watch and look disgusted but not angry, that’s always a plus.
Learned anything about the first task yet? I know you’re not supposed to know what it is, but rumors always get around schools like Hogwarts. If you do hear anything, let us know right away – it’s only your teachers you’re not allowed help from, remember.
How does meeting up in Hogsmeade next Saturday sound? Have a real Pack lunch, all eight of us, or all twelve if the rest of the Pride wants to come. Chin up, Wolf – easier to bite ‘em on the arse that way!
Padfoot
Harry kept this letter in his pocket all through the next week.
xXxXx
Remus stepped out of the Three Broomsticks and looked around nostalgically. How many times have I been here now? And yet it’s always the same, and always a little different...
His expeditions here as a Hogwarts student, with the other Marauders, presented themselves for review first. Then came a few visits after he’d left Hogwarts, usually with one or another of his friends, sometimes on Order business but sometimes just for fun. After that came years of visits in disguise, calling himself John White, always having that little worry in the back of his head – what if he was recognized, or Harry or Draco was?
The day the Pack had celebrated being Animagi together was followed by the night Harry’d gone into the Chamber, which was quickly succeeded by a year’s worth of visits with the Pride in tow, culminating in the night...
Well, why ruin a perfectly good day thinking about that?
“Professor Lupin!”
Remus turned to greet the three excited Ravenclaws who were running up the street towards him, and the four Hufflepuffs who came after them, and the seven or eight Gryffindors who came after them...
“I see student telepathy is working again,” Aletha remarked as she came out of the pub.
“Professor Freeman-Black!” cried one of the Ravenclaws, and the crowd split neatly down the middle.
Aletha shrugged one shoulder, but Remus could see she was pleased to be remembered. Sirius, who followed her out of the pub, was likewise mobbed, with the result that Madam Rosmerta came outside with a broom after a few minutes and shooed them all away from the entrance. “You’re blocking traffic,” she said, swatting at them. “Either come in or get out of the way.”
I see our lot, Danger told Remus. Since she had been only an assistant teacher, and had taught an elective subject at that, she’d had only a few admirers to talk with. They’re hanging back at the end of the street. She chuckled. Wasn’t Meghan indignant when she found out the same rules apply to her as to any other first year. No Hogsmeade until she’s a third year.
I wouldn’t be so sure. Remus thanked another pair of students for their good wishes about Hermione’s custody case. Don’t forget, this is a little girl who knows where all the secret passages are, and where Harry keeps his Invisibility Cloak.
And that’s assuming Harry didn’t give it to her... Danger slipped down the street into scent range, and after a moment Remus felt her rich chortle at the back of his mind. Sure enough, one invisible Pearl. Should we bust her?
We have no authority to do so. But I think we might drop a word in Minerva’s ear...
Oh, and ruin her fun?
Remus sighed heavily, surprising the third year Hufflepuff he was talking to. “I’m sorry, please go on,” he said to her quickly. “What did Professor Moody teach you yesterday?”
“Why don’t you ask me that?” growled a voice.
Remus looked up. “Auror Moody,” he said, bowing slightly.
“Lupin,” Moody acknowledged, shaking Remus’ hand. “Care for a drink? Black, Freeman-Black, any takers?”
“Past three years’ worth of Defense teachers,” said Sirius, holding the door of the Three Broomsticks open for Moody. “Sounds like fun.”
“What about the cubs?” Aletha asked Remus quietly.
“They’ve got something to do, and they’re not hungry yet. They’ll meet us here in an hour or so.”
“All eight of them, right?”
“How did you...”
“Motherly intuition. That and Neville standing with his hand resting on nothing at exactly the level of Meghan’s shoulder. We’ll have to tell him not to do that.”
“So whose’s the Cloak?” Moody asked when they’d ordered drinks.
“Beg pardon?” said Remus.
Moody fixed him with a mismatched stare. “Your lot was down at the end of the street, with yours, Black, under an Invisibility Cloak. Is it that one Potter used to play around with?”
“That’s it,” said Sirius. “Dumbledore had it when James died, and returned it to us when Harry was ten. He’s had it ever since.”
“Uses it to get around at night?”
“I don’t think we should answer that question,” said Aletha. “Besides being detrimental to one of our own children, it will show us up as either very incapable or willfully ignorant parents.”
Moody chuckled. “Doubt it. At least the ignorance. Glad to see you’re back in school, Freeman-Black. Always thought it was a waste when you quit.”
Aletha’s lips thinned, but she nodded. “Thank you.”
“And you,” Moody said, turning to Danger. “Barely know you, but you seem like a nice girl. How d’you put up with them?”
Danger smiled. “I’m glad I seem like a nice girl,” she said. “The first time we met, you thought I might be capable of murder.”
Moody frowned, then shrugged. “Anyone’s capable – I mean, any half-decent witch or wizard could make a curse take to that extent – but not everyone has the real desire. And of course, there’s other ways of killing than curses.” He fumbled at his hip for his flask, swearing under his breath.
“You’re sitting on it, Moody,” said Remus, twitching an eyebrow at Sirius and Aletha. “Move.”
Aletha covered a smile while Sirius snorted a little. Moody just grunted and pulled the flask around to his hip again. “Thanks,” he said, taking a swig from it.
That’s odd, Remus said as Moody reholstered the flask.
What is?
Oh, never mind. I’m probably making it up.
Their drinks arrived, and the conversation turned to different teaching methods and materials covered with the various classes. But Remus couldn’t forget.
When Danger mentioned the first time they met, he looked confused for a second. And he didn’t seem to think what I said was funny – it’s like he doesn’t remember that night at all, and you’d think he would...
Moody pulled out his flask again and took another swig, blotting a few drops that ran out the corner of his scarred mouth with the hand closest to Remus. On a whim, Remus took a deep breath through his nose, and let it out in a cough of distaste.
Blah. Smells like overcooked cabbage. What in the world is he drinking?
Draco’s comments on Moody came back to him now – it did seem awfully odd for an ex-Auror, especially one so very against the Dark Arts, to try to make a fourteen-year-old behave as if he had the Dark Mark, no matter who his father had been. Moody had always been thorough, but this seemed a little much.
Across the table, Danger scribbled something on a napkin and slid it over to Aletha. Aletha glanced it over, then took the offered quill and wrote an answer.
Are you as worried as I am about this one? Danger said sharply, shooting Remus a view of the napkin.
Remus took a hasty gulp of his drink to mask his nervous swallow.
What potions smell like cabbage? Danger had written in her semi-tidy scrawl.
And underneath, in Aletha’s neat copperplate, was the answer.
Yes, he said, still looking at it through Danger’s eyes. Yes, I think I am very worried about this one.
Should we take it to Albus?
Not right now – he’s got the first task to manage on Tuesday, he’s probably out of his mind, or as close as he ever gets...
The same thought occurred to both of them. Moody won’t be in his office on Tuesday, Danger said thoughtfully. He’ll be down watching the first task...
Remus looked into his glass, watching his reflection change as ripples ran across the surface of the hot wine within. You’ll cover for me?
What kind of question is that?
xXxXx
“Well, people like Moony, at any rate,” Harry said as the Pride browsed around in Honeydukes. “Wish they liked me that well. Maybe I should become a werewolf.”
“Please don’t,” said Ginny. “You’re hard enough to manage as it is.”
“Why, thank you.” Harry bowed.
“Besides, you don’t have to be a werewolf to win,” Luna added. “You’re a wolf, and a werewolf’s cub. That’s enough. Or it will be, with the blood.”
“Um. Right.” Harry pulled another bar of chocolate from the shelf. “There, I think that’ll do me. I’ll wait outside.”
After paying up, he slipped out the door into the brisk November wind and people-watched. There were still quite a few students sporting Support Cedric Diggory badges, but they were now matched, if not outnumbered, by those wearing Support Them Both badges. These latter gave Harry thumbs-up and friendly waves as they passed, which he returned, if somewhat half-heartedly.
He’d spent the past few weeks alternately fearing the first task and sure that he could handle it. As the time grew nearer, though, fear took up more time and surety less.
Cedric and Fleur and Krum have had so much more practice at this... they know so much more... and I don’t even know what it is we have to face...
“You look worried,” said a small voice beside him.
Harry jumped and looked. There was nothing there. “Pearl, don’t scare me like that,” he hissed out the corner of his mouth.
“Then don’t be so scared to begin with. What’s wrong?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re getting all worked up over nothing. For all you know, it’s a contest to see who can kill a rabbit fastest, and you’d win that right away.”
“Yeah, by doing something completely illegal!”
“Or maybe it’s a running race, but in a place where no one can see you,” Meghan continued. “Then you’d win, because four feet are faster than two.”
“Unless they’re watching inside the lanes for interference. I would if it was me.”
“Or maybe it’s like Luna said over the summer. A swimsuit contest.” Meghan giggled. “I think you should win that.”
Harry lost all control and stared at her, or at the place where she should have been. “A swimsuit contest? You think I’d win a swimsuit contest? Meghan, four of the judges are men! They’re not interested in looking at other men in swimsuits! And even if they were, Krum and Cedric have me beat hands down – Krum plays international Quidditch, and Cedric probably works out every day – and just think about Fleur! She’s part veela, she’d win the instant she smiled at the judges!”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Maybe nothing. You’re crazy.”
“I know. But do you feel better?”
Harry sighed, then laughed. “Yes. Yes, I do actually feel better.”
“Well, tha’s good,” said a large voice, “but I’d worry abou’ yeh a little if yer talkin’ ter thin air like that.”
“Hagrid!” squealed Meghan, then gasped contritely and squeaked, “Sorry.”
“Under that Cloak o’ yers, is she?” said Hagrid, looking at Harry sternly. “Yeh didn’ ough’ter encourage her ter sneak aroun’ like this, Harry. But tha’s not what I’m here ter tell yeh...” He glanced around to make sure they were alone, then leaned in. “Meet me at midnight,” he whispered. “Out at me cabin. With that.” He pointed to where Meghan was.
“All right,” said Harry in bafflement. “How do you like that?” he asked Meghan as Hagrid strode away. “First he tells me I shouldn’t encourage you to sneak around, then he sets an appointment that means I have to sneak.”
“He’s just Hagrid,” Meghan said. “He’s allowed to be different.”
“Let’s go have lunch,” said Draco, coming out of the store. “Being in there was making my mouth water so much I’m surprised I didn’t float away.”
“Everyone else?” Harry asked.
“They’re coming.”
“Four, five,” Harry muttered as Ron and Ginny came out the door, comparing Bertie Bott’s. “Six, seven.” Luna, sucking a Peppermint Toad, and Hermione, looking disapproving. “And eight.” Neville, who held out a small bag which promptly disappeared. “All right, let’s go.”
xXxXx
It was nearly one o’clock in the morning before the Pride heard the expected bounce in the red bedroom. Draco sat up from where he’d been trying to do some homework. The pendants got hot about fifteen minutes ago, and they’re still not all the way cool yet...
“About time,” said Ron as the door opened. “So what was it?”
“You look terrible,” said Hermione, getting up and hurrying over to Harry. “Sit down – what’s wrong?”
Harry collapsed into the chair Hermione Summoned for him. “I know what the first task is,” he said in a monotone. “It’s dragons.”
Meghan gasped. “What?”
“Dragons?” Draco said over her in shock.
“You’re kidding,” Ron blurted.
“How do you know?” asked Ginny.
“Hagrid showed me. Took me around into the Forest where they’re keeping them. Charlie’s there, Ron, that’s what he meant about being here – he’s part of the team taking care of them.” Harry stared at the wall. “There’s four, one for each of us, we have to get past them or knock them out or do something to them, I don’t know what. They’re all mothers, though, loads of eggs, Charlie told Hagrid he had them counted... I don’t know what I’m going to do. How do you face a girl dragon?”
“You could always dress up as a donkey and make her fall in love with you,” said Luna.
Everyone looked at her for a few seconds. Then Harry began to laugh. It sounded a little strained, but it was a laugh, and the rest of the Pride joined in quickly. Before too long, they were all flat on the floor, catching their breaths and trying not to look each other in the eye, since they knew if they did they’d just set each other off again.
God, she’s great. Dress up as a donkey and make her fall in love with him. Wonder where she got that?
“Thanks, Luna,” said Harry when everyone had settled down a bit. “I’ll have to remember that. Anyone else?”
“What can you do that a dragon can’t do?” Neville suggested.
“Scream,” said Harry. “Get toasted by fire.”
“How about the other way around?” said Ginny. “What can a dragon do that you can’t?”
“Brew potions,” said Draco.
Harry made a face at him. “Thanks. You want to face the thing?”
“No thanks. And you’re not allowed to take anything into the ring but your wand?”
“Nope.” Harry sighed, staring at the ceiling. “What can a dragon do that I can’t do. Kill me?”
“Breathe fire and fly,” said Meghan. “That’s about all dragons do, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Ron seemed distracted by something. “Fly,” he muttered. “Fly... that’s it!”
“What’s it?” Hermione asked.
“Fly! Harry, you can fly!”
Harry started flapping his arms. “Not working so well,” he said. “You’re the bird Animagus, not me.”
Ron threw a pillow at him. “On your Firebolt, moron!”
“Yeah, and where am I going to get it?” Harry threw the pillow back.
“Oh.” Ron looked disappointed. “Didn’t think of that.”
“But that’s the easy part,” said Draco as the answer came to him. “Come on, Harry, how do you get something that’s far away?” He picked up another pillow. “Get the pillow. Come on, get it.” He yelped and quickly dropped the pillow as Wolf launched himself at it. “Not like that!”
Harry turned back and spat out feathers. “Define your terms, then,” he said over the laughter.
Draco groaned and picked up the mutilated pillow, repairing it with his own wand, then walked a few paces away and faced his brother. “With your wand, get the pillow from me and take it to you.”
Harry drew his wand and pointed it toward Draco. “Accio Pillow.”
Draco lifted his hands in triumph as Harry caught the pillow in his left arm. “There. You see?”
“Yeah.” The fear was starting to lift from Harry’s eyes. “Yeah! I can – I can leave the window open, leave the Firebolt on my bed, and then I’ll just Summon it from the castle, and fly rings around the dragon! It can’t possibly move as fast as me – I can kick its spiky arse!”
“Yeah!” cheered the Pride.
“Let’s hear it for Harry!” shouted Neville. “Defeater of dragons! Hip hip–”
“Huzzah!” shouted the Pride.
“Hip hip–”
“Huzzah!”
“Hip hip–”
“Huzzah!”
After which, of course, they simply had to play pirates.
They were aided in this by the Hogwarts Den itself, which obligingly changed its main room into a very good mockup of a pirate ship, or at least a very comfortable one. Everything was cushioned, or soft, or smooth and silky...
Nearly an hour later, Draco nestled between two of the guns, arranging his back against the firm carpeted surface. He could see Hermione’s hair dangling down from the crow’s nest, Harry’s quiet snores were coming from the quarterdeck... Cap’n Neville was asleep at the wheel with Meghan curled next to him... Ginny seemed to be hugging the mainmast, and Ron was sprawled every which way on the deck...
He slid his hand under the gun and found another hand already searching for his. “Sweet dreams, matey,” he whispered.
“Arrrr,” he heard her answer sleepily.
xXxXx
“Hey, Diggory, who’s your girlfriend?” said Paul Hallman the next morning, poking Cedric in the ribs.
“Huh?” Cedric looked around. “What girlfriend?”
“Oh, come on, man, you’re telling me you got a Whisperer and it isn’t even from your girlfriend?”
“I got a Whisperer?” Cedric looked down at his plate. Sure enough, a sky-blue envelope lay upon it. He picked it up. “Um, Paul, I’m going to go see what this is. I’ll be back later.”
The handwriting on the outside of the Whisperer was rather spiky, with very tall capitals, Cedric noticed on the way to his common room. If he had to guess, he’d say it was a boy’s writing, rather than a girl’s.
But I don’t swing that way.
Still, there were other reasons for sending Whisperers than love notes. Cedric tore the envelope open and held still as it fluttered up to the side of his head and fit itself carefully around his ear. Then it began to whisper – in a boy’s voice.
“Cedric, this is Harry Potter.”
Cedric nearly stopped listening right then – what reason could Harry Potter have to send him a Whisperer? But there couldn’t be any harm in hearing the message out, could there?
“I wanted to say thanks – I saw you wearing a Support Them Both badge yesterday – and I wanted to tell you something.” A long pause, then very fast, “The first task is dragons.”
Cedric froze. But we’re not supposed to know that...
“I know we’re not supposed to know that, but Madame Maxime’s seen them and so has Karkaroff, and I don’t think they’re going to keep quiet about it. I didn’t think it was fair for you to be the only one who didn’t know. And I wanted to say, thanks for being so decent about this whole mess – I swear, I didn’t put my name in that Goblet, and if this hadn’t happened I’d be out there cheering for you on Tuesday. I’ll still be cheering for you – I want Hogwarts to win, no matter what.” A soft laugh. “Though I’d rather not spend a week in hospital either. Good luck finding something to get past a dragon.”
The Whisperer drifted away from his ear, landed in his hand again, and disintegrated, trickling through his fingers as a shower of fine blue sand. Cedric closed his hand around the sand, feeling its slight weight in his palm.
“Wow,” he said quietly.
Would I have done that for him? Gone against the rules to make sure things were fair?
I don’t know if I would or not...
xXxXx
“Harry, d’you reckon there really is anything to Divination?” Ron asked worriedly on Monday. “Because Trelawney keeps going on about how the angle of Neptune with respect to Mars means people who were born in July are going to die horrible messy deaths...”
“What am I going to do, get eaten by the Venomous Tentacula?” Neville inquired. “Ron, don’t you know by now not to listen to that old fraud?”
“Easy for you to say – you weren’t there when she pulled off a real one!”
“Would you both just shut up?” Harry said. “I’m trying to practice. All right. Accio Trevor!”
“Oy!” Neville intercepted his toad in midair. “Practice on something else!”
“Fine. Accio Neville.”
The results of this spell wouldn’t have been nearly so funny if Neville hadn’t been holding an open vial of ink in his other hand.
xXxXx
Remus, are you sure about this? Danger asked as the Pack-adults walked through the Hogwarts gates.
No. But I’m never going to have a better opportunity. Let me know how it goes.
I will. Harry’s going to have your hide if he finds out.
And who’s going to tell him?
True enough. “For the record,” Danger said, speeding up to match Sirius and Aletha’s pace, “Remus was with us all the time.”
“Of course,” said Aletha. “Every minute.”
“Where else would he be?” Sirius asked.
A moving patch of scenery detached itself from the three and made its careful way towards the distant castle.
xXxXx
“Oooh, this isn’t fair, why did Harry have to be last?” Hermione grumbled, watching Fleur Delacour leave the field with her golden egg and the dragon-keepers quickly move in to secure her sleeping Welsh Green. “It just makes us all more nervous...”
Ron paid no attention to this. Charlie was one of this group of dragon-keepers. Come on, look up here, he willed his brother. Look up here...
And like magic, Charlie turned his head and looked, and waved when he saw Ron and Ginny. How’s Harry? he mouthed, drawing a lightning bolt on his forehead in case they didn’t get the idea.
Both of them smiled broadly and gave Charlie two thumbs up. Harry, in fact, had been very pale all morning, and hadn’t eaten much lunch, but had seemed ready to tackle his dragon when he’d left the castle with Professor McGonagall...
“Oh my God,” said Draco suddenly.
Ron turned. “What?”
“The window.”
“The window?” Then it hit him. “Harry never opened the window,” he said. “In our dorm. Did he?”
“No.”
“Oh no,” said Meghan. “And there isn’t time to go back and open it, is there?”
“Probably not,” said Neville, watching as the dragon-keepers brought in the snorting Chinese Fireball. “Depends on how long Krum takes... but someone’s got to try... who’s fastest?”
“Ron,” said Luna. “He’s faster than anyone, because he doesn’t have to run. I could do it too, but not yet.”
“What?” said Neville.
Hermione gasped. “Oh!”
“Yeah,” said Ron, a sick feeling creeping into his stomach. “Yeah.” In truth, he wasn’t sure he could fly. What if he botched the transformation? What if something went wrong and left him half-bird, half-human?
“You’d better hurry,” said Ginny as Krum entered the arena. “I don’t know how long we’ll have.”
“Good luck, hawk-man,” said Draco. “Get that window open for us.”
“Ron, you have to do this,” said Meghan, putting a hand on his arm. “You’re the only one who can.”
“And you can,” Luna added, putting her hand over Meghan’s. “You can do it.”
Ron looked around at all his friends, took one glance over his shoulder at Krum, then turned and ran for the steps.
I’m the only one. The only one who can. The only one. His footsteps echoed to that beat. The only one.
Once behind the stands, he ran a little ways along for good measure, to get away from the stairs. Then he pulled a grubby slip of parchment out of his pocket, took a deep breath, and started to recite.
“Pinnae mei capitisque alae russae sed corporis suffuscae sunt. Quiritatio mea hostes meos terrent et praedas meas exterrent. Cum supervolo, documines et spectacula video quae alii non vident. Inter alios et periculum advolo si debeo, sed non strigo petens praedae.”
The world became much bigger. Ron blinked his eyes. He could see everything! Absolutely everything – especially if it was moving! And he could hear just fine too. The shouts and cheers behind him were actually louder than he liked. “Quite some nerve Mr. Krum is showing there!” Bagman’s voice was roaring. “He may just be our quickest champion yet!”
Not much time, then. Ron waddled forward, letting out a low squawk of unhappiness at this form’s ungainly maneuvers on the ground, then spread his wings and beat them a few times timidly. Um... up?
Nothing happened, and he could hear the cheers getting louder behind him. Up Sesame, he tried. Alakazam. Hocus pocus. Oh, dammit, just fly!
He ran forward a few steps, swept his wings down and back, and just flew.
His body knew what to do, it seemed. All he had to do was steer. To the castle, he told himself, and felt his wings set on a current of warm air, which was rising and lifting him with it. He’d be level with Gryffindor Tower in no time – he was going to make it!
He let out a screech of joy and coasted forward to the next thermal.
xXxXx
This is too easy. There has to be a catch somewhere.
Remus had waited a good half-hour after everyone had left the castle, then started for Moody’s office. He’d been expecting a hard time getting in – certainly so paranoid a man would have his door not only locked, but booby-trapped? But the knob had turned under his hand and the door opened to him as if it were still his own office, with his and Danger’s quarters behind it.
Maybe Dumbledore forgot to remove my access after last year. Remus stepped inside and looked around, noticing the Secrecy Sensor, the deactivated Sneakoscope, the large mirror hanging on one wall...
Wait a second. Something’s not right there. He turned back to look at the mirror again.
That’s no ordinary mirror. That’s a Foe-Glass. With me in it. Which means...
He took another look around the office. I don’t like this.
xXxXx
Ron landed a bit awkwardly on the windowsill outside the fourth year boys’ dorm, then recalled that he couldn’t balance like this in human form.
How can I do it, then?
He flapped his wings hard, hovering just above the stone sill, then mentally muttered Reditio mihi, and yelped as his knees hit the stone hard. Ignoring the pain, he drew his wand and pointed it at the window. “Alohomora!”
The window popped open – and just in time!
For Harry’s broom was rising from his bed, hesitating like a dog unsure if it hears its master’s voice –
Then it shot forward, and Ron realized too late that he was right in its path.
xXxXx
Remus jerked his head up, his heart pounding. What was that?
He placed a hand on his chest and strove for calm. Nothing. It was nothing.
But it had sounded horribly like a scream...
Who would be here to scream? You’re letting your nerves run away with you. Start looking. If you’re right, there’s bound to be evidence around here somewhere.
It took him only a moment to locate several bottles of a thick liquid which smelled revoltingly like overdone cabbage. And under the bottles...
Well, well. Remus lifted out an essay in a handwriting he knew well. An essay missing the name at the top.
This is ridiculous – why not just throw this in the fire? It’s evidence against him, whoever he is... but, of course, anyone who found this would already have found the Polyjuice, and he must have thought no one would ever do either...
Aletha had given him the rundown on Polyjuice Potion, so he knew what was needed to make it, and what to make it work. He’d need something of Moody, some part of the man. And he’s obviously not up on quite everything Moody’s ever done. So that suggests...
Remus’ eyes roamed to the trunk with the seven keyholes, sitting innocently under the window. He’d heard stories about a trunk like that from James and Sirius. Each keyhole led to a different compartment, with the seventh being the largest, because Moody never traveled without some way to lock up a prisoner should he take one...
Silently, Remus knelt by the side of the trunk and laid his wand against the first keyhole. The standard opening spell might work for the first one, even the first two, but after that he was going to have to get creative.
“Alohomora,” he whispered, and the trunk sprang open for the first time.
xXxXx
It had been an interesting first task to be sure. The Diggory boy – pretty, but not much for brains – fair hand at Transfiguration, though. The Delacour girl – even prettier, but she seemed better equipped in the brain department – must have some real power behind that Trance Charm of hers. Krum, of course, not pretty and not too brainy, but well up in brawn – Conjunctivitis Curse, a classic. And now Potter. It was odd how the boy had come up with this idea all alone, without any of the hints he’d been prepared to drop...
But all to the better. Makes me less noticeable.
And did I or did I not see his best friend changing forms behind the stands? Didn’t think Weasley had that much brains, to manage Animagus at his age. That one might be worth watching.
It was as Potter swooped and dived in the air that he felt the first tremblings of warning against his hip.
What in...
He pulled out the keys on their ring and looked at them. Back in September, when he’d first started this job, he’d charmed the keys to shake on their ring if anyone ever tried to break into the trunk, and they were more than just shaking now, they were dancing madly in his palm –
Dammit, at this rate they’ll be into the thing before I can get back to the castle and stop them! Especially with this bloody leg! He snarled in silent frustration as the crowd gasped and shouted.
Only one thing to do, he decided. Get out before it’s too late. I can’t do anything if I get caught or killed, or Kissed...
He heaved himself out of his seat and started down the stairs, watching, out the back of his head, Potter flying circles above the dragon’s head. This is one thing I’m going to miss, this eye. Maybe I could find some way to keep it without losing one of mine...
As he was crossing the lawn, he heard the crowd roar, and above it Bagman’s voice, “Would you just look at that, witches and gentlewizards! Harry Potter, youngest champion, still gets his egg the fastest! Let’s hear it for him!”
As if they need encouragement. He looked up at the sound of a scream high above. A hawk floated on the air between castle and stands – a hawk with rather clumsy wing beats...
He smiled. How convenient that Mr. Weasley should happen along just now.
xXxXx
On his broom, Harry nearly dropped the golden egg as his pendants went frigid.
It can’t be me, I’m out of it...
He leaned forward, willing his pendants free of his robes, and they came – he caught them awkwardly with his free hand and flipped rapidly through –
Ron? What’s happened to Ron?
“Mr. Potter! Land here, if you please!” called Professor McGonagall from below.
Harry dived, but didn’t land. “Take this, please, Professor,” he said, handing her the egg. “I have to go – Ron’s in trouble...”
“What?”
“Harry!” Hermione screamed from the stands. “That way!” She was pointing away from the stands, towards the castle and the road to Hogsmeade.
Harry leaned back and climbed sharply.
xXxXx
“Neville, can you slow him down?” Draco asked, peering at the running figure through Ron’s abandoned Omnioculars.
“I can try.” Neville closed his eyes. Meghan slid up beside him and took his hand. After a second, he opened his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing. I think I have to be on the ground to do it.”
“On the ground,” said Ginny, her face very pale. “Got it. Luna?”
“Right.” Luna drew her wand. Ginny’s was already out.
“Deleo!” they shouted together, wands pointing downwards.
An explosion rocked the stands, leaving a huge hole in its wake.
“Right,” said Neville, and jumped down, still hand-in-hand with Meghan.
Draco refocused the Omnioculars on the distant running figure, now shooting spells over its shoulder at Harry, who was dodging –
He let out a whoop. “Yes! That’s got it! Go Neville!” Faintly, in the distance, he could hear Harry echoing this sentiment, and with reason – thick tendrils of plant matter were springing up from the ground, twining around the running man’s feet and legs, making him slow down to tear through them. He could use his wand to cut himself free, but then he’d leave himself open to Harry’s spells – he could tear them loose with his free hand, but he didn’t have one, it was busy holding hawk-Ron in place on his shoulder –
The man spun around to face the stands and shouted something unintelligible, then threw the hawk away with all his might – Hermione, watching through her own Omnioculars, gasped, then squealed as Harry went into a steep dive and caught the bird’s foot just in time to keep its head from bashing into the ground –
Not that it would be so much of a loss, of course.
Professor Moody ripped free of the thick grass trying to bind him and dashed through Hogwarts gates, rotated on the spot and was gone.
“That’s it,” said Draco, lowering the glasses. “Let’s go.” He jumped down through the hole in the stands and took off running towards the distant figures. As fast as he was, though, Ginny was faster.
“Is he going to be all right?” she demanded, staring at the limp figure in Harry’s arms.
“Should be,” Harry said, handing Ron to the panting Meghan. “He’s breathing. But we’ve got to find some way to make sure no one knows it’s him...”
“Damage control, at your service,” said Letha, catching up to them. “Moody, or whoever that was, spotted Ron crossing the grounds and transfigured him into a form that would be light and easy to carry. Give him here, I’ll change him back. Is he hurt?”
Meghan shook her head. “Just unconscious,” she said. “And his leg was strained, but I fixed it.”
“Good girl.” Letha took the bird in her arms, and Padfoot cast a Privacy Spell around her.
“Well done, Harry,” he said, grinning, as Danger and Professor McGonagall came running up, most of the school close behind them. “Well done both times.”
No one noticed the faint buzzing noise above them.
Author Notes:
So what were you all freaking out about again?
Yes, Skeeter’s about to get hers. You can stop bugging me about it now. Pun fully intended.
To anyone who can’t stand Ron: Consider this chapter official notice, this story is not for you. His spell means: "The feathers of my head and wings are red, but the feathers of my body are brown. My scream frightens my enemies and terrifies my prey. When I fly high, I see patterns and sights that other people do not see. I fly between others and danger if I ought to, but I never stop looking for prey."
And just to drive you nuts — there’s a hint in this chapter to the eventual form the Final Battle will take. Go ahead, tell me I’m evil — I dare you! And give examples! Please!