Dealing with Danger
Chapter 43: Gifts, Giants, and Gruntlement (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 43: Gifts, Giants, and Gruntlement
Harry rolled over, yawning, and pushed his bedcurtains aside. The blast of chilly air from the dorm room woke him quite thoroughly.
Boxing Day. Which means Christmas is over, which means it’s time to do homework. Gah.
He stuck his feet into his slippers, walked over to his wardrobe, removed his day clothes, and started down the stairs towards the bathrooms. Hardly anyone else was awake, judging by the lack of noise, and a hot shower would help him warm up.
"Morning, Neville," he said to the one occupant of the common room.
Neville made a sound that could have been a greeting. Harry frowned, but didn’t pursue the matter.
But he’s still in his dress robes from last night. Did he go to bed at all?
When Harry came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, Neville was still in the same position, slouched in an armchair, staring at the opposite wall.
Harry finger-combed his wet fringe out of his eyes. "What’s wrong with you?"
Neville sighed. "I had a row," he said. "And found out something."
"At the same time?"
"No, different."
"Who’d you row with?"
"Meghan."
"What about?"
Neville didn’t answer.
"All right, none of my business. What about the other thing?"
"I heard Hagrid talking to Madame Maxime." Neville was fiddling with his bow tie, spinning it one way, then the other. "He told her... he told her why he’s so big. Why he’s not quite like everyone else."
"Is it something bad?"
"Yeah. It’s pretty bad." Neville looked up at Harry. "You knew him before Hogwarts, right?"
"Right."
"Did you ever know about his mum?"
"His mum?" Harry shook his head. "He never talks about his family. What about his mum?"
"She wasn’t human."
"Not human? What was she, then?"
"Giantess."
The information trickled through Harry’s mind, setting other thoughts and ideas spinning. Hagrid, half-giant... it made sense, considering his size... strange, giants liked to kill things, but Hagrid never hurt anything if he could help it... but why would he tell Madame Maxime? Other than his obvious interest in her... but of course, she must be another one, another giant-human cross... no one could be that big and still be pure human blood...
"Did she say anything?" he asked, looking across at Neville.
"Yelled out that he was insulting her, she just had big bones, and stomped away."
"Big bones." Harry sat down on the arm of another chair. "Right. Big like a dinosaur."
"Do you think we should tell anyone?" Neville asked doubtfully.
"No one but the rest of the Pride," Harry said. "I’m sure Dumbledore knows already, and most of the rest of the teachers too. But it could mean a lot of trouble if it got any farther than that."
Neville nodded. "People don’t like giants."
"I can’t imagine why," Harry said. "So we won’t tell anyone, and it won’t get out."
xXxXx
"Mr. Weasley, I’d like to see you in my office before lunch, please," said Professor McGonagall, catching Ron by the arm in the entrance hall. "You’re in no trouble," she added at the expression on his face.
Fred and George, halfway up the marble stairs, sighed in unison as McGonagall walked away. "Poor ickle Ronniekins," said Fred.
"Asked to McGonagall’s office, and not in trouble," said George.
"Looks like all that trouble we went to was wasted."
"Our little brother will never follow in our noble footsteps."
McGonagall reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. "I’d like to see you two as well," she said to them. "And your sister, if you don’t mind. Eleven o’clock, shall we say?"
xXxXx
"What did she want?" Harry asked when Ron and Ginny had found seats for lunch.
Ginny smiled. "It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Fred and George both speechless at the same time," she said. "And Ron was even nice to them about it."
"I just asked if they wanted in," Ron protested. "How is that being nice?"
"Never mind," said Hermione. "Wanted in on what?"
"His present for Mum," said Ginny. "He’s giving her — we’re giving her, now — a house-elf."
"Quite a Christmas gift," said Draco. "Difficult to wrap, though."
"McGonagall wanted to know when we wanted to go home to give it to Mum," said Ron. "We settled on New Year’s." Movement from down the table caught his eye. "What, Hermione?"
Hermione was bristling perceptibly. "House-elves are not ‘it,’" she said sternly. "House-elves are ‘he’ or ‘she.’"
"Fine, she. It’s Winky. Crouch’s old elf, the one he sacked for running off at the Quidditch World Cup. Remember?"
Hermione’s eyes widened. "Ron, that’s wonderful! She was so sad about not having a family — and now she does! You thought of it, didn’t you?"
Ron nodded. "Mum’s always said she wanted a house-elf," he said. "And Winky wanted a family. It wasn’t too hard."
"Have you thought about what Percy’s going to do when he finds out?" Harry asked. "Since he likes Mr. Crouch so much?"
Ron groaned. "Oh, no. He’ll probably worship at its feet — her feet," he corrected himself quickly with a glance at Hermione. "Either that or say we shouldn’t hire a disgraced elf."
"But it’s not like she did anything all that wrong," said Draco. "She ran away from a load of maniacs blasting tents and levitating people around. Even Percy can’t make that sound too bad."
"You don’t know Percy very well, do you?" said Ginny.
xXxXx
Hedwig rapped at the window that night, and dropped a package on the table addressed to all four cubs when Hermione opened the window for her.
"Not that big," said Harry, brushing snow off the box. "Does it rattle?" He shook it. "It does."
"Don’t shake it, you’ll break whatever it is," said Hermione, stroking Hedwig’s feathers. "Just open it."
"Is there a card?" asked Draco.
"Probably inside." Harry slit the tape with a Diffindo and pulled the flaps of the box open. "Here it is." He tore the envelope open, pulled the card out, and read it aloud. "‘Sorry these are late, but we only got them yesterday ourselves. Happy Christmas, and don’t forget you’re coming home for New Year’s Day.’ And everyone’s signed it." He handed the card to Draco.
"You missed the P.S.," Draco said, flipping the card over. "‘One to a customer, and don’t use them too much — we don’t know how to recharge them yet.’"
"Recharge?" said Ron. "That sounds like something Muggle."
"But Muggle things don’t work at Hogwarts," said Ginny. "Unless they’ve been changed to run off magic, and then they don’t need recharging."
"Only one way to find out," said Harry, and stuck his hand into the box, fishing around until he found the first of four smaller boxes. "Here we are." Pulling it out, he looked at its tag. "Meghan. Put it aside for now, if she ever comes out we can give it to her then. Hermione." He tossed the box to her. "Draco. And me."
"On three, then?" said Draco, holding his hand poised to rip. "One, two..."
Three boxes were torn into eagerly.
"It’s... a lighter," said Harry, holding his up. "A heavy lighter. All metal, I think."
"There’s an instruction card," said Hermione, producing it from within the box. "Made in America, the genuine Zippophone. Accept no substitutes."
"Zippophone?" Ron said. "What does it do?"
Hermione was still reading the card, and her face was growing more and more excited. "It’s a portable Floo!" she said, looking up. "Like a Muggle mobile phone! Here, watch!"
She flipped open the lid of hers, and a green flame sprang up. "Gryffindor common room," she said clearly into the flame. The flames in the common room fireplace roared and flickered green for an instant.
"Now listen," said Hermione into the lighter. An instant later, her voice, saying, "Now listen," echoed out of the fireplace. Several people turned to look at it in confusion, but seeing no one there, went back to their conversations.
Harry rubbed his ears. "Don’t do that," he said. "It sounds so strange."
Hermione shut the lighter. "Sorry," she said. "But don’t you see? We can make a firecall from anywhere with these."
"And they’d need recharging after a while, because they’d run out of Floo powder," said Draco. "Or the stuff inside the lighter that burns."
"Or both," said Ron. "It probably uses it up at about the same rate."
"Can you get calls on them too?" asked Ginny.
Hermione scooped up the card again. "Yes, you can," she said, perusing it. "You have to set it up with your name first, so it knows who you are — here, let me do that now." She held the closed lighter up to her mouth. "Hermione Granger-Lupin," she said clearly, then lowered it. "Harry, Draco, do yours, and then one of you call me. We can see if they work."
"Draco Black," Draco said into the small metal box. Then he flicked the top open. "Hermione Granger-Lupin," he said into the flame.
Hermione’s Zippophone emitted a chiming sound not unlike the Pack’s Floo. She opened the top. "Hello?" she said into the flame, her voice repeated out of Draco’s lighter.
"Hold on," said Harry. "Draco, go up to the dorm and ring back. We can’t tell if they really work from here."
"Just a second, then." Draco disappeared up the stairs, and a moment later Hermione’s lighter chimed again.
She flipped it open. "Hello?"
"Hello," said Draco’s voice, a bit higher-pitched than usual but recognizable. "How are things down there?"
"The same as they were thirty seconds ago," said Harry. "How are things up there?"
"Oh, about the same as usual. Neville says hello."
"Hello, Neville," said Ron absently, staring at Hermione’s lighter. "These things are really cool. Do you think Meghan will want hers?"
"Yes, I think so," said Ginny.
"I wasn’t asking you."
"Then maybe you should make it a little clearer who you’re talking to."
"I’m coming back down," said Draco. "It’s obvious they work. Harry, have you set yours yet?"
"I’ll do that now." Harry said his name into the side of the lighter as the flame went out on Hermione’s with a little snapping sound. "They must be from Aunt Amy," he said, weighing the Zippo in his hand. "She always sends us the best gifts."
"Lucky you," said Ron. "All we ever get from our aunts are big sloppy kisses and books full of useful spells."
xXxXx
Neville watched the door shut behind Draco, then returned to looking at the book on his lap.
I don’t know what to do with this. It’s not mine — Professor Moody gave it to me — but he wasn’t the real Professor Moody. I don’t know if it belongs to the real Professor or not. And with what the fake one said about killing me...
But it’s not possessing me like that diary did Percy, or poisoned like Draco’s lion. It’s just a book.
I’ll write to Mum and Dad and ask them. They’ll know what to do.
That settled in his mind, Neville set Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean on his nightstand and picked up The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four. He knew he’d eventually have to do something about Meghan, but he wasn’t up to it tonight.
xXxXx
Meghan sat on her bed, nursing her bad temper.
Everyone thinks I’m a baby. Well, fine. I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone. I’ll do fine on my own. Just fine.
She pulled open her schoolbag, yanked out writing materials, and started scribbling fiercely on a piece of parchment. She’d show them all. She didn’t need help from anyone, for anything. And she didn’t want to be around anyone either.
If anyone gets near me, I’ll just kick them. That’ll show them how I’m feeling.
xXxXx
"Excuse me, you’re Ginny Weasley?"
Ginny looked up at the tall, brown-haired girl. "That’s me."
"Colleen Lamb. I’m a year ahead of you."
"Yes, of course. Hermione introduced us once." Ginny scooted down on the bench. "Sit down."
"Thank you." Colleen took a seat. "I owe you an apology," she said. "And a few Sickles. You do calligraphy, right?"
"Yes..."
"I’m afraid I took some of your invisible ink at the start of the year," Colleen said quickly. "I’m terribly sorry, but I saw it on your bed when I made a wrong turn in the dorms, and I needed some, and I was afraid to buy it... it sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was there and it was there and I just took it. How much did it cost you?"
"Don’t worry about it, the kit was a gift."
"No, please. I’d feel much better if I knew I’d done something in return..."
"I think two Sickles ought to cover what you took," Ginny said. "It wasn’t much. I wasn’t even sure if it was gone or not."
"Thank you, you’re very kind." Colleen counted two silvery coins into Ginny’s hand. "I know I should have just gone and bought my own, but I was afraid someone would see me... doesn’t that sound silly?"
"I’ve done some silly things because I was afraid of people seeing me," said Ginny. "Like running off to the bathroom to write in a diary."
Colleen smiled faintly. "You do understand. I hoped you would."
"Yes, I understand. Good luck with him," Ginny added as Colleen stood up.
The older girl lost her balance and nearly fell over. "Good... good luck? With who?"
"The boy you went to the ball with. I assume that’s who you used the ink to write to."
"Actually, he used it to write to me..." Colleen’s smile returned. "Thank you," she said. "I hope we will have good luck."
xXxXx
And I don’t need to worry about what people will say now. Colleen felt buoyant as she walked out of the Great Hall. I’m allowed to have a friend from another House. I’m even allowed to have a boyfriend...
She broke into a running dance step, and didn’t notice the narrowed eyes which followed her across the entrance hall and up the marble stairs.
xXxXx
He went to one knee, bowing his head not in any real sign of deference but because it was easier than looking at the thing in the chair. "I am at your service, my lord," he said almost under his breath.
"As it should be." A satisfied chuckle. "And yet you were not always so..."
"I could not serve you dead, my lord. Or losing my mind in Azkaban. I can bring you valuable information, and new recruits, already partly trained. One in particular has contacts close to certain people. You know who I mean."
"I do. But this does not mean that you will be welcomed back with open arms. Those who betray ought by rights to receive that which they dealt out to their former comrades..."
He bit back panic and kept his voice level. "My lord, let me live only until your plan is accomplished, and then weigh my worth again. I will succeed, I swear it on my life, for I need no disguise, no false identity to walk freely at Hogwarts..."
"Yet you are already under suspicion," said a different voice, sullen and cold, from the shadows behind the chair. "Dumbledore told me as much himself."
"Do you mean that I do not have Dumbledore’s confidence?" He allowed himself a small laugh. "Dumbledore trusts anyone and everyone. He trusted you, did he not?"
The man in the shadows growled, but the thing in the chair raised a hand, stilling him. "There will be no dissension here," it said softly. "Are we not comrades in arms, working towards a common goal? The light side must not steal all the teamwork for itself. Now. You will continue with the original plan — with a few adaptations, I believe it can still work — but you will also strike at morale, in certain vital places. Begin undermining Dumbledore’s credibility, start the rumors spreading that he cannot be trusted, that his spells, and perhaps his mind, are not what they once were..."
He smiled triumphantly. "I have just the thing, my lord. You will not be disappointed."
"I trust not."
xXxXx
"Am I the only girl in a good mood around here?" Hermione asked Sirius on New Year’s Day.
"So it seems. What’s the matter with Meghan?"
"She had a row with Neville at the Yule Ball, I think. They’ve both been staying out of the way a lot, and they’re not speaking."
"Grand. And around here, Letha’s been mopey, and Danger’s being touchy."
"Why?"
"I don’t know about Letha. She just doesn’t seem to be enjoying anything this year."
Hermione grinned. "Maybe she’s pregnant again."
Sirius sat up straighter. "No. But... I guess... No, she can’t be..."
Hermione laughed. "Padfoot, I was joking. I don’t think she is."
"But you might be right. She did act a little like this back with Meghan... I suppose... but wouldn’t she have told me by now?"
"Told you what?" asked Aletha, coming in.
Sirius turned to his wife. "Letha, love, you’re not pregnant, are you?"
Aletha took a large step back, almost running into the wall. "Not that I know of," she said when she’d recovered her voice. "Why do you ask?"
"You’ve just been... droopy lately. You don’t seem to be enjoying anything."
"And the first thing you think of is that I might be pregnant?"
"Hermione suggested it."
"Oh, sure, blame everything on me," said Hermione, hands on her hips.
Aletha laughed. "Don’t say that," she told Hermione. "He will." She looked back at Sirius. "No, I am not pregnant. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting oddly. I’m just worried about finishing up my training. It’s getting more and more difficult, and I know that’s the point, but I’m afraid that something will come up that I can’t handle, that I’ll have to make a quick decision and make the wrong one..."
Hermione got up to hug her Pack-mother. "You used to tell me when I was little," she said, "not to let myself live in the future, because we don’t know anything about it, so that makes it a very scary place to live. You told me to live right now, and only worry about tomorrow when I had to."
Aletha hugged Hermione back, her mouth curving into a reluctant smile. "Do all parents have to listen to their own words coming back at them?"
"Probably," Sirius said, standing up to join the embrace from the other side. "I trust you, Letha. You’ll make the right decisions when it’s time."
He thought he heard a faint sigh escape her lips, and on it the words, Want to bet?
But he could have been imagining things. It happened often enough.
xXxXx
Draco leaned on the top of the piano. "We haven’t heard from Rita Skeeter in a while," he said. "Do you think she just took Christmas off?"
"Are you really eager to have her back?" Letha rippled her left hand through a tricky modulation. "She might decide you’re the next big thing to write about."
"Nah, she said she’d already done her part with me."
"I beg your pardon?" Letha shut the piano and sat up straighter. "When has Rita Skeeter been talking to you?"
"It wasn’t to me, it was to Ron... oh, you don’t know about that, do you."
"No. But I think I should know about it. What was Ron doing talking to her?"
"Me and my big mouth," Draco muttered, but he explained the circumstances of Rita Skeeter’s interview with Ron, went through the details of what the reporter had pried out of his friend, and finished up with the Pride’s speculations.
"How very interesting," Letha said blandly. "And we never heard about this, why?"
"Er... we didn’t want to get you in trouble?"
"So you’re willing to let Ron stay in trouble to keep us out of it? I’m touched by your family feeling, Draco, but there are better solutions."
"Like what?"
Letha smiled faintly. "Why don’t you let me worry about that. Trust me, Rita Skeeter will never know what hit her."
xXxXx
"So you’re all home for New Year’s Day," said Molly Weasley, surveying her four youngest children. "Should I be worried?"
"Of course not," said Fred.
"We’d never do anything to worry you," said George.
"We’re just here to give you a present."
"A token of our filial esteem."
"As if you thought of it," said Ginny, shaking her head at her brothers. "It’s Ron’s present mostly, Mum. He’s letting us have shares in it, but he had the idea."
Molly frowned, looking warily at the large basket Ron was holding. "If it bites, whatever it is, I will not be pleased," she warned.
Ron shook his head. "Happy Christmas," he said, set the basket down, and opened the top.
Molly peered inside, then gasped. "Good heavens — hello, what’s your name?"
"My name is Winky," said a timid voice. "Winky is being the house-elf to the Crouch family, until Master is sacking her for... for a mistake she is making, but she is not making that mistake any more, and she is wanting very much to be a house-elf to a good wizarding family..."
"Well," said Molly, sounding flabbergasted. "I don’t know if we precisely count as a good wizarding family, but you are very welcome here, Winky. Will you excuse me for just one moment?" She stood up, stepped around the basket, and hugged Ron so tightly he couldn’t get his breath back for several seconds after she let go.
"You are the most unpredictable child I have, Ronald Bilius," she told him. "And the most thoughtful. Thank you, thank you all, she’s perfect." She hugged Ginny, then both twins at once, then returned to Winky’s basket, giving the house-elf a hand to help her climb out. "All right, Winky, I’ll show you the house — we call it the Burrow, in case you didn’t know — and you can decide where you’d like to sleep, and then we’ll talk about your duties... go and find something to do for a little while," she added over her shoulder to the children. "We’ll have dinner around twelve-thirty."
xXxXx
Harry found Remus in the study, reading. "I haven’t done anything, have I?"
Remus set his book aside. "I’m always a little worried when you open a conversation that way. Why do you ask?"
"Danger’s stamping around the kitchen and banging things, and she says she’s not angry with me, but she sometimes says that when she actually is."
Remus shook his head. "She’s not angry with you," he said. "Or with anyone, really. She’s glad to have me home, and thankful Hermione’s custody case came out the way it did, and exhibiting those feelings by snapping at everyone in sight."
Harry sat down in the chair opposite Remus. "I’m glad I’m not a girl," he said. "It must be a lot of hard work feeling things for no reason."
"Oh, she has a reason," Remus said. "She wants everything to be perfect now that we’re together again, and she’s conveniently forgotten that every holiday up to now, and probably every one we will ever have, has been less than perfect in some way, usually in quite a few."
Harry grinned. "Like the year Padfoot was chasing us around and knocked over the Christmas tree?"
"Or the year Hermione turned off the oven by mistake and the goose never cooked."
"Or the year Draco and I stole everything out of the girls’ stockings and filled them up with coal."
"Yes — where did you get the coal, by the way? I’ve always wondered."
"Owl order."
"I should have known."
xXxXx
Meghan was lying under her bed, reading by wandlight, when she heard the bedroom door open. She extinguished her wand immediately and held her breath. I’m not here, she willed upward. I’m not here, you don’t know I’m here, go away, I don’t want to talk to anyone...
"I know you’re in here, Pearl," said Danger’s voice.
Meghan let out her breath in disgust. I should have known. That only ever works for him. She hissed under her breath at even the thought of him, that horrible boy who had pretended to like her, pretended to be her friend, and then destroyed her happiness and pretended it was for her own good...
"You can come out, or I can drag you out. Your choice. Ten seconds."
Meghan counted a slow five, then emerged from under the bed with dignity as intact as it could be considering the dust all over her robes and the strings that come off box springs caught in her braids.
Danger sighed. "No matter how often I clean, it’s just always dirty under there. Hold still." She flicked a Cleaning Charm across Meghan. "There. Now. What has got into you lately?"
Meghan sat down on her bed, arms crossed, and stared at the wall beside her. "Not telling."
"Not telling. I see. I don’t suppose ‘not telling’ has anything to do with the Yule Ball?"
Meghan whipped her head around in surprise, then remembered, too late, that she wasn’t supposed to react at all.
"Alice Longbottom was over for tea yesterday," said Danger. "She had an interesting story to tell about Neville’s time at the ball. It seems his partner called him names and went off to bed when he wouldn’t kiss her more than once. True?"
"Yes," said Meghan sullenly.
"And he told his partner that the reason he wouldn’t kiss her more than once was her age. Also true?"
"Yes."
"Will you hate me if I tell you that I think what he did was right?"
"Yes."
"As long as we have that cleared up." Danger sat down on Hermione’s bed. "Meghan, I know you hate being younger than all your friends, but it’s only the truth. You’re eleven years old. But you can be eleven and get treated like you’re fourteen, or you can be eleven and get treated like you’re seven. Most of the time it’s your choice."
Meghan was still staring at the wall, willing the spot her eyes bored into to develop a hole. "Is not. People treat me like I’m seven no matter what."
"No, that’s not true. Some people may always treat you like you’re seven, and some people may always treat you like you’re eleven. Act like you’re fourteen, or older, and you might be surprised how many people will treat you that way. But if you act like you’re seven, or younger — throwing fits, calling names, hiding under the bed — then people will treat you that way. End of lecture." Danger stood up. "Dinner in about an hour and a half, and I’ll want you downstairs before that to help."
Meghan grunted. Danger turned to leave, then turned back. "And just so you know, I personally see no problems with a little kissing," she said, and smiled at the open-mouthed look of shock on Meghan’s face. "Letha feels the same."
"What about Dadfoot and Moony?" Meghan blurted.
"They don’t know about this yet. Which is probably good, since we want Neville to stay alive, don’t you think?"
A giggle escaped Meghan before she could stop it.
"No father ever wants his little girl to grow up, Pearl," Danger said, coming across the room to hug her. "And I’m afraid you have a double dose of that, with two fathers. But we’ll do our best to keep them under control, if you’ll try not to do anything too outrageous. Deal?"
Meghan reached up to hug Danger back. "Deal."
xXxXx
Rita Skeeter sat at her desk, humming to herself as she put the finishing touches on her newest story. She’d had it almost ready to go to the Prophet back in December, but she’d had a hunch that holding onto it would do well, and a good reporter learned to play hunches. So she’d filed it and headed out for her Christmas holiday — three weeks when she didn’t touch a quill.
Except that she’d taken a little time off to attend the Hogwarts Yule Ball, and her hunch had paid off in Galleons. She’d heard Rubeus Hagrid confirm, while sober, what he’d hinted at when she’d given him some alcoholic incentive earlier in the month; she’d witnessed Sirius Black’s daughter screaming at the Longbottoms’ son after their first deliciously scandalous kiss; and she’d watched the dancing carefully, noting how often Hermione Granger-Lupin danced, and with whom.
Stories really were everywhere. You just had to know how to spin them, and how to space them out.
And although she had one ready for press right now, it might do well to get started on one or two of the others she had in her head.
Dipping her quill, she set to work.
xXxXx
On the first day of term, Harry was experimenting with sprinkling brown sugar on top of bacon (very good) when he heard a muffled, furious curse. He looked around.
Hermione was glaring at an open page of the Daily Prophet, her teeth set. "Why doesn’t someone just swat that woman?" she hissed, and folded the page back so that everyone could see.
"Oh, no," said Ginny as she caught sight of the headline.
"How did she know?" Neville asked.
"I didn’t say anything," Ron said immediately.
"How could you have?" said Harry. "You didn’t know when she talked to you, it was before Christmas. She found this one out on her own."
"She was probably there when Neville heard it," said Luna, who had come back the day before on the train. "As the bug. Neville, you didn’t see a beetle around, did you?"
"Not to remember it. She wouldn’t have been in the open anyway, would she?"
"She might," said Ginny. "If she thinks Ron hasn’t told anyone, or that we haven’t."
"She’s not getting away with this one," said Harry, baring his teeth briefly at the picture of Rita simpering and preening at the bottom of the column. "Hagrid’s a Pack-friend. He deserves better than this."
"So do you," said Hermione. "And I, and Ron, and all of us."
"For once, maybe my big mouth will do some good," said Draco. "Letha knows now, and she’s not going to keep it to herself, not with something like this."
xXxXx
Draco didn’t know it, but Aletha was considering just that.
Why should I bother? Whether I do things or don’t do things, it’s wrong. So why should I try?
"Problem?" said a voice nearby.
Aletha looked up and tried to smile. "Hello, Remus. Just considering the futility of life."
"That sounds like fun. May I join you?"
"Be my guest."
Remus pulled up a chair and sat down. "Futility in general, or something in particular?"
"This article by Skeeter in the paper this morning. I know something about her that might have stopped it, if I’d just acted in time — Draco told me over New Year’s — but I’ve been so busy worrying about..." She stopped.
"About..." Remus prompted.
"Other things."
"Anything you can tell me?"
"Not now." Aletha sighed, staring out the window. "I just feel terrible, because if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own problems, I might have been able to spare Hagrid all this..."
"And if I hadn’t let Danger bite Lucius Malfoy, we would never have gone through the custody hearing, and I might still be teaching at Hogwarts," said Remus.
"Don’t be ridiculous. How could you have known?"
"My point exactly."
Aletha took a breath, then let it out as she realized she’d been outmaneuvered. "You’re too good at that."
"Thank you. Letha, there’s nothing we can do about Hagrid now, except continue to be his friends. What we can do, if you have something on Skeeter, is stop her before she hits someone else we care about. Now, what is it you have?"
"Dirt. But dirt with a proviso. She has equivalent dirt on Ron, and provisionally on us, and she’ll have no compunction using it if she feels threatened in any way."
"Ron, and us... Animagus?"
"Yes. And believe it or not, that’s hers as well." Aletha smiled grimly. "But I think we have something else on her, something she doesn’t know we have. Something to do with Draco..."
xXxXx
The four adults of the Pack stood in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, wizards and witches frozen all around them. They were inside a memory of Sirius’, of the day he’d taken Draco to the Ministry that summer, the day the abuse allegation had begun.
"They think Skeeter was there?" Sirius asked again. "Listening to me, hoping I’d say something she could twist?"
"She’d probably been following us for a while," said Danger. "Seems like the kind of thing she’d do. All right, let’s go bug hunting."
Lion and horse shook back their manes, wolf and dog stretched and yawned, and Sirius set his memory in motion. The four animals surrounded the memory-figures of Sirius and Draco, and it was Sirius himself who froze the memory and stood up human. "There," he said, pointing at a speck on the wall. "One bug."
The others closed in. "Sure enough," said Remus, peering at it. "Let’s see where she goes..."
The memory reactivated. Sirius shook Draco gently by the shoulder and told him what to do. As they started for the lift, the beetle took off from the wall, flying past Sirius’ ear, and did a twirl in the middle of the air, disappearing with a very small pop.
"We’ll have to Anti-Disapparate anything we catch her in," said Aletha. "And make it Unbreakable, so she can’t turn human and break it that way."
Danger was frowning. "Sirius, back it up a second?" she said. "I want to see her again."
Sirius returned them to the moment with the beetle perched on the wall. Danger looked closely at it, then pantomimed swinging something at it. "No way," she muttered. "No way..."
"No way what?" Aletha asked.
"After Sirius’ trial," Danger said slowly. "That night. I was in the kitchen, I was setting up my loom, and I heard a bug flying around... I spotted it on the wall, rolled up a newspaper and swatted it, then tossed it out the window..."
"And Rita Skeeter never showed up for our interviews the next morning," said Remus. "And one of the house-elves told us she was in the hospital..."
Sirius burst out laughing. The other three weren’t far behind.
"Pre-emptive revenge," said Aletha when she could speak again. "It might catch on."
"Well, I’d like a little post-emptive myself," said Danger. "A Venus Fly Trap, say."
"And they say men are violent," Sirius said. "Let’s get back to reality before we start getting bloodthirsty, all right? My mind’s messed up enough as it is."
xXxXx
"...and she feels terrible about it, but she can’t find the right place or time to apologize to him, and that’s why she looks frazzled and unhappy about everything. But she had a lovely time before that, even if she won’t admit it."
Graham laughed with Natalie. "Meghan can be odd sometimes," he agreed. "But she’s a lot of fun to be around. What do you think of the real Professor Moody?"
Natalie looked around to make sure they were alone. "It’s awful," she said, "but I don’t think I would ever have known the difference."
"Nor would I. But we never knew him before this." Graham looked at his watch. "I should get back to the common room, I have plenty of homework already..."
"Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope."
"Of course."
They squeezed hands, then Natalie hurried off up the corridor. Graham watched her go for a few steps, then turned to start down the stairs.
Three tall third year Slytherins were blocking his way. "Hello, Pritchard," said one of them.
Graham stood very still, his hand going surreptitiously towards his wand pocket. "Carrow," he acknowledged the speaker. "Giorno. Henderson." The other two. "I was just on my way back to the common room."
"We heard," said Carrow. "When you told the Gryffindor." The House name dripped contempt. "Honestly, Pritchard, you couldn’t find friends in your own House?"
"No one tells me who to be friends with," said Graham evenly. "Get out of my way. Please." He used the word deliberately — he didn’t want to fight, and a little propitiation might work...
But it seemed the three were in no mood to be placated. "This is your warning, Pritchard," said Carrow. "You’re a disgrace to your House, and we don’t take well to disgraces. Unless you want your life to get hard pretty fast, lay off the Gryffindor girls."
"Three to one?" said a soft voice from behind the boys. "Stacking the odds a bit, aren’t you, Carrow? Against the dangerous scary first year?"
"Not your business, Zabini," said Giorno, speaking for the first time. "Get lost."
"I think it is my business." The fourth year pushed between Carrow and Henderson and faced the three third years. "I think any time that Slytherins are harassing their own is my business. This is the kind of thing that gets our House a bad name, not being friends with Gryffindors."
"Yeah, well, you know all about being friends with Gryffindors, don’t you, Zabini?" sneered Carrow. "Regular plague of defectors around here. What’s the matter, Slytherin girls not good enough for you?"
"Now that’s none of your business," said Zabini, his hand at his side. "Now, are you going to leave, or do I have to make you?"
"I think we’re..." began Carrow.
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Henderson, sweeping his wand across Graham and Zabini.
Graham felt his wand ripped from his hand before he hit the wall hard, and Zabini only missed crashing into him by forcing his fall to one side. "Sorry about this," the fourth year whispered as he pulled himself up.
"Not your fault," Graham hissed back. He got to his feet and stared at the third years. "So what are you going to do now? Hex us until we promise to change our lives so you like them better? Put us under Imperius so you can do what you want with us?"
"No, I think we’ll just have your word for it," said Carrow, twirling Graham’s wand between his fingers, a nasty smile on his face. "How about some Unbreakable Vows?"
"Over my dead body," said Zabini bluntly.
"That could be arranged."
"Expelliarmus!" shouted a voice from behind the third years. They all staggered forward a step, cursing as the wands were torn from their hands.
Graham peered past Giorno and kept his mouth shut with an effort.
What is he doing helping us?
"Thanks, Potter," said Zabini laconically.
"You’re welcome," said Harry Potter from the other side of the boys. "Sod off, you three," he added to them.
"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter, for profanity in the hallways," said a familiar chill voice, and Professor Snape stepped around the corner. "And another five for doing magic, as I assume that was your voice I heard shouting a Disarming Charm only a moment ago..."
"They took their wands first!" Potter made his meaning clear by pointing. "They were saying they were going to make them take Unbreakable Vows about something!"
"It’s true, sir," said Zabini. "They ganged up on Pritchard here, and took me by surprise when I stopped to see what was going on." He gave the third years a nasty glare.
"You’ll know better next time, then." Snape looked at the third years as he might a potion with the consistency of cottage cheese. "And what do you have to say for yourselves?"
"We were just joking," said Carrow, cringing under Snape’s eyes. "Just having some fun."
"Cursing and threatening your Housemates is scarcely a proper definition of fun, Mr. Carrow. Detention, all three of you. Two detentions," Snape amended as Henderson opened his mouth to protest. "And I can make it three."
Giorno elbowed Henderson, who shut his mouth. Meanwhile, Potter had edged over to Graham and Zabini. "Better get yours now," he said, spreading the five wands he held in an arc. "Stop them taking one of yours and doing something to it."
Graham pulled his own from the center of the arc, while Zabini took the one farthest left.
"Wands, Potter," said Snape, holding out his hand, and Potter handed over the three remaining. "I am very disappointed in you all," he said, shoving the wands into Carrow’s hand. "I shall inform you of the time and manner of your detentions."
Carrow muttered something and disappeared, Giorno and Henderson only a few steps behind him.
"Ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Zabini, for stopping to help Mr. Pritchard," Snape said. "And..." He eyed Potter for a moment. "Ten points to Gryffindor for Mr. Potter’s actions." He spun on his heel and stalked off in the same direction the three third years had taken.
The three boys looked at each other for a moment. Finally Zabini voiced the common opinion.
"We should make sure the sky isn’t falling."
"He didn’t actually give Gryffindor any points, though," said Graham thoughtfully. "He just reversed what he took away."
"So the sky should still be up where it belongs," said Potter. "See you in class, Zabini. See you around, Pritchard." He put his wand away and hurried off towards Gryffindor Tower.
Graham looked at Zabini. "Thanks," he said.
"Don’t bother thanking me. I made it worse."
"You tried. It’s more than most people would have done."
Zabini shrugged. "I was on my way to the library," he said. "You?"
"I was going back to the common room, but I think I’d better hold off. The library’s as good as any."
Zabini started walking. "Where are you in your classes?"
Graham had to move a bit faster than usual to keep up, but he didn’t mind. "We’ve just covered the ninth and tenth uses of dragon’s blood in Potions, and Professor Flitwick says we start Lighting Charms next class..."
xXxXx
Meghan crossed the common room quietly, listening to the Pride.
"...have to get in there and talk to him," Ron was saying. "We have to tell him we don’t care."
"But he won’t open the door," said Draco. "That could be a problem."
"That’s what magic’s good for! We can get in there easy!"
"But that’s wrong," said Harry firmly. "That’s Hagrid’s house, and we’re not breaking in. If he won’t let us in, we’ll just have to be persistent."
"We’ve been persistent for a week," said Hermione. "He must be letting Fang out at night, or when no one’s watching, because I haven’t seen the door open at all..."
"How is he eating?" asked Ginny. "House-elves?"
"Probably," said Harry. "Speaking of which, how’s Winky working out?"
"Oh, fantastic. Mum’s over the moon about not having to do the laundry any more."
"She had to be pretty firm about the cooking," Ron added, "but Winky was so happy to have a family again she would have said yes to almost anything."
"That’s good," said Neville. "The way your mum cooks, she shouldn’t ever give it up."
"Hello, Meghan," said Luna, looking her way. "I haven’t seen you much this week."
"I know." Meghan gulped as everyone turned to look at her. "Neville, can I talk to you? Please?"
Neville started to get up, but then settled back into his chair. "You can talk right here," he said.
"It’s private."
"Anything you want to say to me, you can say here." Neville pointed at a spot in front of his chair.
Meghan clenched her teeth. "It’s private," she repeated harshly.
"And it will be. As soon as you come over here."
"Oh." Meghan picked her way around the table in the middle of the circle of chairs until she stood in front of Neville, whose lips were already moving. A moment later, they stood inside a shell of translucent air — Neville’s own version of a Privacy Spell.
"I’m sorry," Meghan said, deciding to get it over with quickly. "I shouldn’t have called you names. But I was really mad. And there isn’t anything wrong with a little kissing!" She looked at him pleadingly. "Didn’t you like kissing me?"
Neville squirmed in his chair. "I liked it," he said. "I was just worried that... Meghan, please don’t get mad, but you are eleven. You’re not... you know... growing up. Yet."
"Am too." Meghan stuck out her chest. "Look."
Neville looked. And looked. And pulled his eyes away. "Okay, you are. But you’re still eleven. The problem isn’t that I didn’t like kissing you, the problem is that I liked kissing you too much. And kissing turns into other stuff, and we shouldn’t do any of the other stuff. It isn’t right. Not now."
Meghan stared at him. "You liked it too much?"
Neville seemed fascinated by the carpet. "I didn’t want to stop," he admitted quietly. "But I didn’t want to do anything that wasn’t right for you. So I had to stop."
Meghan sighed and lay down on the floor, sticking her face into Neville’s line of sight and making a silly face at him. "I trust you," she said when they were both upright again. "You’re my friend. You won’t do anything that would hurt me. And Danger said there wasn’t anything wrong with a little kissing."
"But I don’t know if I’ll stop with a little. That’s the problem." Neville looked terribly torn. "It would be safer just not to start at all..."
"Why don’t we set a timetable?" Meghan suggested. "One kiss per day, or something like that?"
"That might work. If you don’t mind."
"It was my idea."
"All right. One kiss per day."
"First one now?" Meghan turned her face up and batted her eyelashes.
"Only if you stop doing that," Neville said. "It would tickle."
Meghan stopped immediately.
xXxXx
"I’ll keep trying with Hagrid while you’re in Hogsmeade," Meghan said to the Pride as they crunched through the snow the next morning. "Come find me when you get back."
"I’m surprised you’re going to Hogsmeade, Harry," said Hermione, waving to Meghan as the girl veered away from their path. "I thought you’d be working on that egg."
"Would you lay off on the egg, Hermione? I’ve got five weeks still."
"And you probably haven’t been doing anything all through Christmas, have you?"
"No, he has," said Draco. "Asking it questions, trying to figure out what the sound is..."
"Throwing it across the room..." added Ron.
"I didn’t really expect that to help," said Harry. "But I had to do something."
"You said something about muffling it before Christmas," Ginny recalled. "Have you tried that?"
"I wrapped it up in my bedspread, but it didn’t sound any different," Harry said as they passed through the gates of Hogwarts. "Just quieter. I have no idea what it could be, other than a whole orchestra full of musical saws."
"Take a little time off," Luna advised. "A Wrackspurt’s probably got you, they make your brain go fuzzy, and you get rid of them by resting and eating sweet things."
"I think we can handle that," said Harry, speeding up his pace a little. "Honeydukes, anyone?"
xXxXx
Meghan was not surprised to find Hagrid’s door shut. After a few knocks, she swept the stoop clean with her foot and sat down on it.
"I remember another time I was here," she said, supposedly to herself, but loudly enough that she knew she’d be heard inside the house. "I was scared, because half my family was gone and the other half had been turned into animals, and because I knew something that could help them, but nobody was going to listen to me. I was just a little girl. I needed a grownup to help me. And I only knew one grownup who could."
There were footsteps inside the house — they didn’t sound like Hagrid’s, but his tiptoeing would sound like an ordinary person walking...
"When I got here, and Hagrid opened the door and hugged me, I knew everything would be all right," Meghan went on. "Because he wouldn’t let it not be. And it was. My Dadfoot got free, and Wormtail got caught, and everything went back to the way it should be. And that was because of Hagrid."
The door opened. Meghan turned, and stood up in surprise. "Hello, Professor."
"Meghan," Professor Dumbledore acknowledged her. "Would you care to come inside? It is rather chilly to sit out there."
"Thank you." Meghan stepped in, and Dumbledore shut the door behind her.
xXxXx
"What did Bagman want?" Ron asked as Harry rejoined the Pride at their table.
"And what was with all those goblins?" Draco added.
"It was a little funny," said Harry, nodding to Hermione as she passed him a butterbeer. "He was offering to help me with my egg... but he’s a Triwizard judge, he shouldn’t be trying to help me... he said he wants a Hogwarts victory, but I don’t know."
"Is he helping Diggory, then?" Neville asked.
"No, he’s not." Harry sipped at his butterbeer. "He said the goblins were looking for Mr. Crouch. I guess he hasn’t been coming to work, just owling instructions to Percy..."
"Percy was talking about that on New Year’s," said Ginny. "He said Mr. Crouch had written him a letter saying he’d come down with something, and that he wouldn’t be in for a few weeks, but just to carry on..."
"He didn’t look well at the first task," said Harry. "I wonder what he’s got?"
"Well, look who it is," said Hermione venomously, looking over Harry’s shoulder. "Rita bloody Skeeter."
The Pride all turned. Rita Skeeter had indeed just come into the pub, dressed in banana-yellow which clashed with her shocking pink nails, nibbling at the end of an acid-green quill, and chattering to her paunchy photographer.
"I’m going to go over there," said Hermione, starting to get up. "And I’m going to tell her what I think of her..."
"Don’t," said Luna.
Hermione whirled on her friend. "Why not?"
"Because I think someone else is about to do something." Luna pointed into a shadowy corner of the pub.
Harry squinted. It was too dark to be sure, but he thought he could see a pair of familiar outlines back there...
"No!" shouted a familiar voice, and the sound of shattering glass got everyone’s attention. Letha stormed out of the dark corner, whirling back to confront Padfoot as he too emerged into the light. "It’s bad enough you did that, Sirius, but now you’re bragging about it to me? I don’t ever want to see you again!" She slapped him across the face, then turned and stormed out.
"Letha, wait! I can explain!" Padfoot followed her, stopping only to toss a Galleon onto the bar. "Keep the change, Rosmerta," he said hastily, and shoved through the door. "Letha, wait!"
Rita Skeeter was on her feet, as was most of the rest of the pub, but Rita contrived to be the first one out the door. The Pride looked at each other in dismay.
"What was that about?" Ginny asked.
"Don’t know," said Draco worriedly. "But it didn’t sound good..."
Hermione snorted. "Didn’t sound good?" she repeated. "No, it didn’t. But Letha’s not much of an actress."
"Actress?" said Neville.
"Did you really think that was real?" Hermione demanded. "Since when do Padfoot and Letha fight in public like that? And what could he possibly have said to her that would make her that mad, all at once? It was staged!"
"But why would they stage a fight?" Ron asked.
"Probably to get Rita Skeeter to follow them," said Luna. "They started fighting as soon as she came in."
"And she did follow them," said Harry. "And... Draco, you told Letha about her?"
"I did." Draco was grinning now.
"Everything about her."
"Yes indeed."
Harry felt an answering grin come to his face. "Then I think I know who’s out there right now. One person in Animagus form, to spot her, and one person in human form with a wand and a jar..."
xXxXx
Got her. Dead ahead.
I see her. Here we go. Remus drew his wand, keeping his eyes fixed on the beetle flying towards Sirius and Aletha, who were standing in the road near the outskirts of Hogsmeade, shouting at each other about Sirius’ supposed infidelity. It had to be that, didn’t it?
We wanted something sensational. Besides, she’s not going to be telling anyone, is she?
No, I suppose she’s not. Remus aimed his wand directly at the insect. "Accio Beetle," he whispered, and licked his lips in satisfaction as the charm worked perfectly. The beetle, buzzing in surprise, zoomed backwards towards him, and Danger, once again in human form, sprang up and clapped the precharmed jar and lid together around it, screwing them together tightly before the Animagus-reporter could take any action.
Remus took the jar from Danger and held it up to his face. "Rita Skeeter, I presume," he said.
He’d never known a beetle could look disgruntled before.
Author Notes:
I’m back! Did you miss me? Never mind, that was a dumb question. You’ve told me in no uncertain terms that you did. But I am back, and as of Sunday (two days from now) I will be a college graduate, and in possession of more free time than I know what to do with!
Well, maybe not. But I will have several weeks of summer before my graduate work starts. So I should be able to get some writing done... do you realize that I took my little vacation right in the middle of the standard Potterverse? Christmas of year four, smack dab in the middle! Though, of course, we’re over the hill already in the Dangerverse, since I’ve told you year seven will only run until Halloween... or have I? Now I have.
A note is needed dealing with Zippophones. I understand that two other authors, Rorschach's Blot and Alchemilla, have both used this idea already. While I am a big fan of credit where it's due, the truth is that my dad gave me this idea, and he doesn't read fan fiction, and that I have never read anything by either of them (sorry!). But kudos to them anyway, because it's just polite to salute great minds at work...