Dealing with Danger
Chapter 48: Privacy and Philosophy (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 48: Privacy and Philosophy
"Clean up and get into street clothes!" Aletha shouted after the last departing actors. "Cast party in classroom twelve in fifteen minutes!"
She turned around and jerked violently, nearly banging her shoulder into the wall of the narrow hallway. "Molly," she said inanely.
Molly Weasley had her hands on her hips in a pose Aletha was familiar with, though she was more used to it being directed towards one of her cubs or Molly’s own children. "If I had a Knut for every time your family has interfered with mine," she said, "I would be the richest woman in England. It’s moved beyond odd into ridiculous."
"I know." Silently, Aletha cursed herself. There was more to say, much more, but none of it would come to the surface of her mind.
Molly’s hands sketched circles in the air. "Quite apart from what you’ve taught Ron and Ginny, about which I’ll say nothing, since I did agree to it, you’ve interfered with Charlie’s romance — I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same, Tonks has kept him hanging quite long enough, but I hope I’d have had enough brains to keep it under my hat if I had — but then Sirius saved Percy’s life..." She shook her head. "I’ve had enough. I have had enough."
"Have you?" Aletha wasn’t sure if she should feel hopeful or frightened, and her insides were compromising by feeling both at once.
"Yes. Quite enough. From now on, I refuse to quarrel with any of you, because there’s simply no way I can keep it up." Molly laughed aloud. "Oh, Letha, dear, you should see your face! You thought I was here to shout and scold at you, didn’t you?"
Aletha leaned against the wall, letting out a long-held breath. "I don’t think I can answer that question without getting myself into more trouble," she said shakily.
"Then don’t." Molly pulled Aletha upright and hugged her. "You’ve not been having an easy time of it, have you? Yes, I’ve talked to Danger, and you needn’t make that face, either. You knew she was coming for tea."
"Yes, but I had no idea I was the topic of conversation." Aletha shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Though I suppose I should have known."
"Yes, you should. And the wedding’s only been put off a few months—"
"I’m sorry?"
"Oh, you didn’t know — I am sorry, I should have told you already, but yes, it’s all back on and everything’s all right again — that’s why I came to find you, to tell you the children’s plan worked."
"They had a plan." Aletha sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Because you know them, and more importantly, you raised them. And you raised them to be planners and plotters, don’t act as if you didn’t." Molly peered down the hall as several young male voices were raised in song. "I’ve seen my four, of course, told them how well they did, and I’m sure you’ve seen yours. Must you go to the party, or will they be all right unsupervised?"
Aletha scratched her elbow indecisively. "They might do stupid things without someone there," she said. "But on the other hand, they have parties just as crazy after every Quidditch match, and the worst that ever happens is the house-elves have a mess to clean up. Of course, this is an inter-House undertaking, so there might be some fights..."
"Where you have boys, you’ll always have fights. Girls too, come to think of it."
Aletha frowned at Molly. "I have the feeling I’m being talked into something."
"Tonks did want to have a word with you," Molly admitted. "And Sirius said... now, let me get this right... ‘Hogwarts students don’t need any help partying. If she’s not out here in ten minutes I’m coming back there and carrying her home, whether she likes it or not.’"
Aletha laughed. "Yes, that sounds like Sirius."
"He also said to tell you it was a lovely show. I thought so myself."
"Thank you." Aletha looked down the now-quiet hall. "Excuse me a moment? I should tell someone I’m not stopping, so they don’t expect me."
"Of course."
Walking towards the girls’ dressing room, Aletha took a deep breath and let it slowly out, feeling the double weight of show and guilt sliding off her. No permanent harm done. I was a fool, and now it’s over.
And the show went brilliantly.
But I still want to know who cut those cables at dress rehearsal.
xXxXx
"All right, here’s one for you," said Harry, picking a Chocolate Frog out of the pile in the center of the circle of Gryffindor boys. "What is it that mine is longer than Draco’s, Ron’s and the twins’ are all exactly the same, and Neville’s is longer than anybody’s?"
"Are bloody not," Ron said hotly.
"Is this going to require getbacks?" Draco inquired.
"What about me?" asked Lee Jordan.
Harry pointed at the three boys in turn with a hind leg of Frog. "Are so, no it’s not, same as me."
"Is this a trick question?" George asked.
"No, not at all."
"What about you and us?" said Fred.
"Mine is shorter, but not by much. Neville’s is far and away the longest."
"I think you’re embarrassing him," said Lee, looking across the circle at a crescent of brown hair and red face mostly hidden by a pair of hands.
"Shouldn’t be. It’s not like it’s anything secret. Meghan could tell you the same."
Neville lifted his head long enough to glare at Harry. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
Harry shrugged innocently. "You all have dirty minds, you know."
Draco snapped his fingers. "Got it," he said. "This is the one Padfoot taught us when we were nine, isn’t it?"
Harry swallowed his mouthful of chocolate. "I was wondering why it was taking you so long."
"Give the rest of us a hint, why don’t you," said Ron.
"Five," said Draco, pointing to himself. "Six." Harry. "Seven all around." Ron and the twins. "Ten." Neville.
"What’s that, a rating?" said Fred.
Draco shuddered artistically. "Hardly. It’s a simple fact."
Neville looked up again. "There are ten letters in my last name," he said slowly. "And six in Harry’s and Lee’s, and five in Draco’s..."
All the boys groaned. Ron crushed his handful of crisps and dumped the crumbs on Harry’s head. Harry wiped his chocolaty hand on Ron’s face, making it possible for George to drop three ice cubes down Harry’s back. Draco flung a handful of Every Flavor Beans into George’s face, then had to defend himself from Fred’s counterattack with his glass of punch, leaving himself open to Lee’s Pumpkin Pasty offensive. Neville moved back a few feet to watch.
xXxXx
Hermione shook her head in resignation, watching the tussle. "Boys," she said wearily. "Impossible to housetrain."
"And the only really good taming method is illegal," Ginny agreed.
"The Imperius Curse isn’t the only way to tame a boy," said Luna. "You just have to get him to want what you have more than he wants what he usually does. It’s not impossible."
"But first you have to get him to want what you have at all," Ginny muttered.
"Harry will come around, Ginny," said Luna with certainty.
Ginny threw her hands into the air. "Does the entire world know except him?"
"No, just us," said Meghan. "Do you want us to help you, or do you want to wait a little longer?"
Four heads swiveled back towards the boys, Harry now flat on his back and pinned by the combined weight of Ron and George, Draco twisting Fred’s ear while Lee hauled him off.
"I think I’ll wait," Ginny said.
"Excuse me."
All four girls spun in their chairs. A dark-haired Ravenclaw boy was standing beside them. "You’re Ginny Weasley, aren’t you?" he said. "You were the Narrator." He Summoned a chair from the far wall and sat down. "I thought you did really well. Especially the song about the Pharaoh in the second act."
"Thank you," said Ginny. "And you are..."
"Oh, I’m sorry. Michael Corner." He shook Ginny’s hand. "I’m a fourth year. And you’re Hermione Granger-Lupin," he said, turning to Hermione. "You were the other Narrator. You’re always top of every class."
"Not always," Hermione protested, but she could feel a blush starting under her cheekbones.
"Ven not, Herm-own-ninny?" asked Viktor, coming up behind Corner, who jumped. "Viktor Krum," he introduced himself, holding out a thick hand. "Potiphar."
"Michael Corner. Er, just Chorus."
Viktor shrugged. "It is still a part. There vill be music soon, Herm-own-ninny," he said to Hermione. "I came to see if you vould like to dance."
Hermione cast one more look towards the boys. Harry had just head-butted Ron in the stomach. "Of course I’d like to dance," she said.
"And you?" Corner asked Ginny. "Only if you want, of course. I mean, I’d be honored. I mean..."
Ginny flicked the first two fingers of her right hand against the index finger of her left. "Yes, I’ll dance with you," she said, letting Corner help her up.
Hermione hid a smile. Ginny’s sign, loosely translated, had been, Tripping over his own feet, this one.
"I’ll go get someone to dance with," said Luna.
"I’ll help," said Meghan. Hand in hand, they advanced on the tussling boys.
Hermione accepted Viktor’s hand as Celestina Warbeck’s "Don’t Need a Potion (For Your Love)" began to play. Years of drills kept her eyes on her partner, kept her feet moving in the dance steps, kept her smiling and listening with half an ear, but couldn’t banish the vague wish that the hand clasping hers and the one on her waist were thinner, longer-fingered, maybe with a few freckles dotting them...
Stop that.
Red hair caught her eye, and Fred and George danced gracefully by, Fred leading. Hermione giggled. Viktor turned to see what had caught her eye, and Hermione heard his slow chuckle as the twins reached their destination, the three Gryffindor Chasers. Fred twirled George out, and both boys bowed deeply to the girls, extending their hands to Angelina and Alicia at precisely the same moment. Lee Jordan had worked his way around the room to join them, and now held out his hand to Katie Bell.
"Soon many people vill be dancing," Viktor said, leaning close to her ear as he led her through the dance. "Perhaps ve could... slip avay. To be alone."
Hermione’s heartbeat resounded in her ears like a thousand drums, reminding her again of Ron, and infuriatingly, the turn of the dance brought her around to where she could see him. He was glowering at her and Viktor.
Maybe next time he’ll think to leave his silly old fight.
"Yes," she said, realizing Viktor was waiting for an answer. "Yes, of course."
And you can put that in your cauldron and brew it, Mr. Ronald Weasley.
xXxXx
Harry leaned against the wall, trying to look casual without making it obvious to everyone that he was looking casual. Luna had got Neville to dance with her, and Meghan had cajoled her friend Natalie into accepting Draco’s invitation, leaving Meghan free to dance with Graham Pritchard. Ron was getting more punch, or so he said. Harry suspected he was using the snack table as a convenient excuse to glare at Hermione and Krum from close range.
Not my problem. Ron’s a big boy now; if he doesn’t know how to get Hermione to dance with him, he’ll have to learn on his own.
After all, Harry knew how to get a girl to dance with him. At least, he hoped he did.
Because if I don’t, I’m going to look like the world’s biggest idiot.
The music ended. Harry looked for the telltale brown and black close to each other, and spotted them only a quarter of the way around the floor.
Here goes.
He plunged into the crowd, passing Lavender Brown and the Patil twins headed for the snacks, Fred, George, and Lee trading partners, Meghan and Pritchard both laughing, and then he was there. "Hello, Cedric," he said. "Hello, Cho."
"Harry!" Cedric turned with an open smile on his face. "You were amazing — did you hear them clapping for you?"
"You weren’t too bad yourself," Harry said. "You too," he added with an awkward nod to Cho. "But I wanted to ask... I mean, I was wondering..." He took a deep breath and was reassured — their scents held curiosity but no contempt. "Cho, could I dance with you?"
"I’d love to," Cho said immediately. "If you don’t mind, Cedric."
"Be my guest." Cedric released her hand and stepped back. "I feel like I should ask for a security deposit."
"I’ll bring her back in good condition," Harry joked.
"I beg your pardon!" Cho had her hands on her hips. "I am not your broomstick, either of you!" But she couldn’t keep a straight face, and in a moment all three of them were laughing.
She’s laughing at my joke. I made her laugh. And she’s going to dance with me. Harry’s ears were buzzing, and he was grateful for the months of rehearsals, when he’d had to stay calm no matter how he felt, because if left to his own devices at this moment he would be running around the room screaming for joy.
A slow, languorous beat filled the room as Harry placed his hand on Cho’s waist. "Oh, it’s ‘Charmed By You,’" Cho said happily. "By the Warbling Warlock. I love his singing."
Some of the buzz in Harry’s ears dissipated. He wished it hadn’t. He couldn’t stand the Warbling Warlock. Summers at the Den were often punctuated with fights between Harry and Meghan about retuning the wireless when the man came on.
He’d sound all right if he just didn’t pretend he was a woman. The Warlock’s voice was naturally deep, but he threw it up high and sang in a screechy alto that hurt Harry’s ears even in human form. Wolf had been known to howl to try to block the noise.
How can she like him?
Harry shrugged it off. Everyone had some things they liked that other people didn’t. Cho probably wouldn’t care for hunting in the Forest and eating what one caught, either naturally or turning back to human and lighting a campfire to cook it.
I wonder what sort of animal she’d be?
He elided the usual disgust he felt listening to the Warlock by considering this, and by enjoying Cho’s spicy-cool scent, the feel of her soft hand in his, the little smile on her face when he sneaked looks at her. Distantly, he noticed Ginny dancing for the second time with a dark-haired Ravenclaw, Hermione leaving the room with Krum, Cedric offering his hand to Fleur, but none of it mattered.
He was dancing with Cho Chang. The rest of the world could bugger off.
xXxXx
"I believe I haff had more fun in this show than in any other part of the tournament," Viktor told Hermione as they stood together on a balcony on the fourth floor. "But then the tournament vos not made for fun. It vos made as a test. A show is no danger to anyvon — excepting, of course, ven the backdrop fell."
Hermione shivered, though the evening was warm and the waning moon was bright. "Yes, wasn’t that awful? But you weren’t on stage for it, were you?"
"No, but I vos votching, close by. It must haff been terrible for you, my Herm-own-ninny — no, my Hermione." He pronounced her name carefully correct, sending chills through her again. "I vould not sound foolish to you, ven you haff been so kind, to tell me many stories of your life and your growing up, and to listen to my stories in return."
"You could never sound foolish to me," said Hermione dizzily, wondering what had been in the punch to make her head spin like this. "And I was very interested in your stories. I never realized you lived so close to Durmstrang, or that your father was such good friends with Headmaster Karkaroff."
Viktor exhaled quickly, an impatient sound. "Pah — vot do I care for Karkaroff or Durmstrang tonight? Tomorrow I must care, for tomorrow they vill announce the points from our performing, and soon ve vill know the third task. Then, then I must care for Durmstrang. But tonight... tonight, my Hermione, tonight I care for me. And for you."
His arm went around her shoulders; his hand gently turned her face towards his. He was leaning towards her, his face shadow-dark except for his bright, intense eyes. "The daughter of a verevolf... how right that you are most beautiful in the moonlight..."
xXxXx
Harry turned, leading Cho, and missed a step altogether in amazement. Ron was dancing with Lavender Brown and Parvati and Padma Patil.
All at the same time.
"Leave some girls for the rest of us, mate!" Lee called over the laughter.
"Get your own," Ron yelled back.
"Has he given up on Hermione, then?" Cho asked as Harry resumed dancing.
"Who, Ron?" Harry stared at her. "Ron and Hermione?"
"He’s always staring at her. I thought everyone knew."
"They’re just friends. We’ve known each other since we were kids."
Cho shrugged. "If you say so. She seems very interested in Viktor Krum, anyway. First the Yule Ball, now tonight."
Harry’s irrational desire to ask Cho what business it was of hers evaporated as Cho looked straight at him. "Harry, can I ask you something?"
Harry took a deep breath to be sure of his voice. "Of course."
"Did you really think I did well?" Her dark eyes were fixed on his anxiously.
"You were great," Harry said, and meant it. Cho had looked marvelous, and though she might never be a star, her singing voice was far better than passable. Letha’d had to work with her much less than with some of the other students.
"And Cedric?"
Harry bit down on an urge to growl. Why does bloody Cedric have to come between us every time we get a chance to talk?
Fleetingly he wished the show were real, but banished the thought on the instant. He didn’t want Cedric to die. Cedric was too nice.
No, I just want him to lose all his looks and his charm and get sick and ugly and nasty. And even then, she’d probably stay with him because he’d need taking care of. Girls!
"Cedric did fine," he said aloud, allowing the grin in his voice to appear on his face. "I think everyone did well, really. It was a great show. I’m sorry it’s over."
"Me, too. But in a way, I’m glad. We have exams coming up — not that it matters to you, or Cedric, but the rest of us still have to pass our classes. And you and Cedric have the third task to get ready for. You find out about it next week, don’t you?"
"That’s right." Harry repressed the urge to gulp nervously. "And a month after that, whatever it is, we do it."
"Are you frightened?" Cho put the question almost coyly.
"Only all over," Harry admitted. "But I still have to do it, so I might as well stand up and do it right. I should be all right. I beat the first two tasks, and I think I did well in the show."
"You did," said Cho as the song wound to a close. "And I’m sure you’ll bring the Triwizard Cup home. One of you."
She pressed Harry’s hand and started away, then turned back and blew him a kiss.
Harry could have sworn he felt it land on his cheek and sink in.
I am never washing my face again.
xXxXx
"Will we start our Animagus lessons again soon, do you think?" Luna asked Draco in the quiet corner of the party room they’d taken for their own.
Draco checked quickly, but no one was within earshot. "We might," he said.
"Oh, I shouldn’t have said that, should I." Luna sighed. "There are so many rules to remember. But it bothers you if I say things wrong, so I am trying to get better."
"You are," Draco assured her. "You’re much better than you were. And I don’t mind if you say what you’re thinking when we’re alone, or with the Pride. But out in public, we could get my parents in trouble if we talk about our private lessons. That’s the only reason."
Luna nodded. "I’ll remember. I was asking because I think I have everything ready. Because I had such a small part, I’ve been working on my incantation at rehearsals, and as long as my final transfiguration goes right, I’ll be... like Harry and the others... in about a week."
Draco found a smile left over from the show and put it on. "That’s great, Luna. I’m so glad for you."
"But you’re jealous," said Luna complacently. "Because you had the biggest part, you didn’t have time to work on yours during the show, and you’ve always been behind anyway. You don’t want to be the last, or even the second to last."
Draco dropped the smile, which felt too tight anyway. "I should stop trying to fool you, shouldn’t I."
"Yes, you should. If we’re going to be married someday, we shouldn’t have secrets from each other. Or should I say mated, since we’re Pride?"
A real smile found Draco’s face. "You can say whatever you want, O Silent Flyer of the Night."
"Thank you. Because I want to say that I don’t think I will do my final transfiguration just yet. I’ll wait a little while, until someone else has time to catch up."
"Luna, you don’t have to..."
"I know I don’t have to. I want to." Luna ran a finger down Draco’s jawline and brushed it back and forth under his chin. "Draco, did you shave here?"
"Stop that, it tickles." Draco batted her hand away. "Yes, I shaved. Not much, but I wanted to look right for the show."
"Where did you get the razor?"
Draco looked away. "I’ve had it for a while," he admitted.
"Waiting until you need it?" Luna sounded approving. "I have one too, you know. I use it about once a week, but Ginny does it every other day, and Hermione does too."
Draco’s head whipped back around. "Hermione does not shave."
"Yes, she does. She won’t let Meghan use her razor, but Meghan’s planning to buy one the next time she sneaks out to Hogsmeade."
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask...
"Luna, where do girls shave?"
"In the bathroom. Where else?"
"No, I know that. I mean..."
Luna raised a hand. "I understand." She lifted her robes and pointed.
"Oh," Draco said in relief. "I thought you meant..."
"No, we don’t have to shave our faces." Luna giggled. "Maybe Neville’s great-aunts do that, but not girls like us."
"Phew." Draco wiped his brow exaggeratedly.
"Do you want to find out why we do it?" Luna asked softly.
Draco was still considering his answer when Luna’s hand closed on his. She placed it on her ankle, then slid it up to her knee and down again.
Draco’s heartbeat went from sixty to one hundred twenty in three seconds flat. "Oh," he managed to say, before there was no need to say anything anymore.
xXxXx
"Neville, do you think I’m too young for you?"
Neville snorted punch up his nose. Meghan handed him a napkin. "You did that on purpose," he accused when he was done coughing.
"I did not." She was sitting with one leg pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around it, regarding him with those disconcerting silver eyes of hers. "I’m sorry. But I want to know."
"Any reason why you’re asking now?"
Meghan looked around the room, at the few people still dancing or eating, at the small groups chattering and the couples gazing adoringly into one another’s eyes or snogging in half-hidden corners. When her eyes returned to him, they were troubled.
"You’re three years older than me," she said. "Maybe that’s not a lot to grown-ups, but we’re not grown-up, and we won’t be for a long time. Longer for me than for you. And if you’re always waiting for me, you can’t do everything you should. So maybe you can try being with some other girl, or not being with anyone. I don’t mind."
Neville forcibly unclamped his jaw muscles to let himself talk. "Meghan, do you not want to be with me anymore?" he asked, dreading the answer. "Please, just tell me the truth."
Meghan turned away, pulling her other leg up onto the chair and huddling down. "It doesn’t matter what I want."
"Yes, it does!" Suddenly desperate, Neville reached across and caught her arm, spinning her back to face him and sliding his other hand under her chin to lift it. "Meghan, tell me. What is it? What did I do?"
Meghan shook her head hard. "You didn’t do anything," she said, her eyes glinting. "I’m holding you back. You ought to be able to do whatever you want."
"Good." Neville slid his hand quickly around her head and leaned in without letting go of her arm. "I want to do this," he whispered into Meghan’s ear, and kissed her left cheek. "And this." Her right cheek. "And this." He kissed her lips, gently, chastely, but leaving, he hoped, no doubt of what he wanted.
"You’re beautiful," he said when he pulled away. Meghan’s eyes were still closed. "And smart, so smart. You make wonderful jokes, and you never let me think bad things about myself. I’m a better person when I’m with you. And think about everything we’ve shared. Helping my parents, and our nights together, you-know-where..." He stopped. "We haven’t been there in a while," he said. "Do you want to go tonight? Just you and me?"
Meghan brought a hand up and rubbed at her eyes, then opened them. "You’re so nice," she said in a small voice. "I’m not nice. I’m mean."
"You have a temper. That’s not mean."
"And you’re patient and careful and you work hard on everything you do." Meghan seemed to have taken no notice. "I wish I was like you."
"You do? Why?"
Meghan twisted a braid in one hand. "I’m scared," she said. "I don’t want to be like my mum anymore. But I don’t think I can not be."
"Why don’t you want to be like her?"
"She did a terrible thing! She made Tonks love Charlie!"
"Didn’t Tonks already love Charlie?"
"Yes, but what if she did it other times, when people didn’t already?" Meghan’s eyes were frightened now. "What if she did it to you?"
Neville hastily turned a laugh into a cough. Laughing would make things worse. "Love potions only last two months, Meghan," he said. "Remember?"
"Yes, but she could be giving it to you over and over... first she was the Defense teacher, and then you stayed with us over the summer, and now you live so nearby..."
"No." Neville put certainty into his voice, the way his father had talked about controlling nervous crowds. Meghan had obviously been thinking about this a long time. It had to end here. "Meghan, do you know about love potions? What they do?"
Meghan nodded, twirling a bead between her fingers.
"Tell me."
"They can’t make real love." Meghan rubbed the bead against her lips before letting it go. "They just make the person who takes them obsessed with whoever the potion is for."
"Obsessed how?"
"That person is all they think about, all they talk about... maybe not all, if it’s not too strong a potion, but it makes them think about that person a lot, and not be interested in anyone else."
"Can it make someone happy, do you think?" Neville asked. "Really happy?"
Meghan shrugged, lines of misery creasing her face.
"Does a potion love make the person’s life better?"
Meghan shook her head. "Usually they give up their friends for the person," she said.
"And I’ve made friends because of you." Neville pressed Meghan’s arm lightly. "I met you first of all, that day on platform nine and three-quarters, before I met Harry or Draco or Ron or Hermione. I liked you before I even knew your name, because you were kind and you brought Trevor back to me. I liked you before your mum ever got close to me, before she even knew I existed, except as a baby. So unless she gave me a potion way back then, and it didn’t work until that day, I didn’t start liking you because of any potion."
Hope was beginning to come into Meghan’s face. Neville pressed on. "When we wrote letters, through my first year, I liked you then, and your mum never gave me anything. I was happy to see you when you and everyone came to make the Pride with me, on my birthday that year. And I hadn’t been near your mum."
The hope was there in full measure now, but uncertainty still lurked in the silver eyes. Neville decided to take a risk. "You can tell if people are sick just by touching them," he said. "Do you think you could tell if they’d taken a potion too?"
"Of course," Meghan said scornfully. "I always know when..." Her eyes widened. "Oh!"
Neville slid his hand down Meghan’s sleeve until he reached the bare flesh of her wrist. Her hand, seemingly of its own volition, turned and clasped his. Meghan’s eyes shut again, her breathing slowed, and she seemed less there for a long moment.
Then she was on his lap, in his arms, her face in his robes and her shoulders beginning to quiver.
Neville looked around and spotted an unoccupied corner. She could get the worst of it out there, and then they could go back to the common room together.
Sliding one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees, he stood up and took a moment to get his balance before he started walking.
xXxXx
"You want to know what?"
"No, not what." Tonks grinned. "I said I want to know why."
Aletha glared at her but refrained from comment. "Why. You want the truth, I assume."
"That sounds like a good idea."
"All right." Aletha shut her eyes and gathered her courage, then opened them and spoke three hard words. "I was afraid."
"Afraid? Of what?"
"Trouble." Aletha pressed down on the cushion of her chair, looking towards the other groups chatting in the living room of the Burrow — Charlie, Arthur, Remus, and Sirius in one corner, Danger and Molly in another — before returning her eyes to Tonks. "May I make a comparison?"
"If it’ll help me understand."
"If you were a Seer, and you had Seen that someone you cared about was going to have an accident. If you knew they would suffer terrible pain, recover slowly, possibly never get over it fully. And you knew, or you thought you knew, that if you could just cast the Imperius on them to keep them doing something they enjoyed longer, so that the time when the accident should happen would go by, that it might never happen at all. Would you take that chance? Would you risk it?"
"I might," Tonks said slowly. "But I don’t see..."
"I overreacted. I was wrong." Odd how it hurt and healed at the same time, to say it. "I wanted to keep you from being embarrassed and hurt by what you felt for Remus. And I suppose I was also afraid for him. He’s a sensible, intelligent man, but men have had their heads turned before by attractive young women falling in love with them."
Tonks frowned. "You think I’m attractive?"
"Your natural face is attractive, and you can make yourself more so if you like. Add to that, you’re intelligent and funny, strong and strong-willed."
"Not a lot of men want that."
"Then the ones who don’t are idiots." Aletha leaned towards the men. "Sirius," she called. "Do you prefer a strong-willed woman or a meek one?"
Sirius turned around in his chair. "What is this, a trick question?"
"Yes. Answer it anyway."
"Strong-willed all the way. I like having a fight on my hands every now and again."
"Yes, but how often do you like winning?" Remus put in.
"Sod off, Moony."
"Thank you both," Aletha said dryly. She turned back to Tonks. "Some men do want a woman to protect, and some women do want to be protected. But in my book, it’s better when you take turns doing the protecting. Everyone’s weak sometimes." She spread her hands. "Q.E.D."
"I understand." Tonks’ smile was slightly brittle, but there was genuine warmth in it as well. "Thank you for what you were trying to do, but next time, could you please just talk to me?"
"Trust me, I will." Aletha clenched her fingers around a handful of cushion, then let it go. "I realize I have no right to ask you this, but I’m going to anyway. Call it wanting to set my calendar. Are you going to report this?"
"No." Tonks shook her head. "Even when I was maddest at you, I didn’t seriously think about reporting. Mum..." She swallowed and blinked hard a few times. "Mum always said you’d make a good Healer, and it was a shame you’d left the program. I know you started again after she died, and you finished the project she left behind. Even with what you did — what I thought you did — I didn’t want to hurt you that badly." She smiled weakly. "I suppose some part of me knew you were trying to help me. Though you did pick the world’s worst way of doing it."
"Thank you." Aletha didn’t even try to keep the shaking out of her voice. "Thank you, Tonks, so much."
"You’re welcome." Tonks sneaked a look at Charlie. "I’ve been thinking over looks for the wedding," she said conspiratorially, leaning in. "How do you like this one?" Her hair grew several feet and lightened to a golden yellow, her eyes became huge and limpid blue, her nose shrank into a button and her lips into a rosebud, and her skin paled until it was the color of porcelain.
Aletha considered it for a moment. "Too fairy-tale," she said. "How did you look when you and Charlie first met?"
Tonks screwed up her face in concentration. A moment later, an eleven-year-old with short brown hair and a bruise on her cheek looked at Aletha solemnly. "I fell getting off the stool for the Sorting," she said. "Charlie was right after me."
"Something a little more recent, then. What about one of your everyday looks?"
"But I don’t want the wedding to be everyday..."
xXxXx
Remus opened a door he hadn’t seen in nearly eight years and walked into the front room belonging to John White and his wife Kelly. James and Jane were their twins, their nephew was Reggie, their dog was Padfoot, and their landlady lived next door with her daughter. There was nothing unusual about them at all.
Or so we hoped the neighbors thought.
Two Dangers occupied the room, sitting side by side, one reading over the other one’s shoulder. Remus chuckled under his breath. I suppose this counts as too much of a good thing.
"Memories, love?" he said aloud.
The real Danger looked up from the book the dream-figure was still immersed in. "How could you tell?"
"You don’t look like that any more. You’re more... rounded nowadays."
Danger sniffed. "You haven’t lost any weight yourself."
"Now, now, did I say it was a bad thing?" Remus caught and absorbed the fireball she hurled. "When is this?"
Danger was still glaring at him, but her answer was civil enough. "April of ’87. The show put me in mind of it. If you’d like to stay, you’re welcome."
"Thank you, I will." Remus quickly transformed, trotted across the room, and lay down at Danger’s feet, angling his neck upwards to get his maned head under her hand. She sighed in mock-exasperation, then buried both hands in his mane and scratched behind his ears. A rumbling growl of content, the lion’s answer to the housecat’s purr, pervaded the room for a few moments, until the entrance via the stairs of two figures in trailing clothes, one laughing and one crying.
Remus retransformed and pulled himself up to the couch. "I think I do remember this," he said. "Though maybe only because you told me about it."
"I’ll only ask you once more, pretty Wendy," growled Draco, on the fifth step up, poking the nightgowned Neenie with his coat-hanger hook. "Will you join my pirate crew, or will you walk the plank?"
"Neither!" Neenie lifted her chin at the pirate in his overlong uniform coat. "Peter Pan will save me!"
"Peter Pan is no more. He and his fool of a fairy have been blasted out of Neverland forever. Now, join me or die!"
"Die," Neenie declared bravely.
"Very well." Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her up several more stairs, then boosted her onto the banister.
"What are you doing?" the memory-Danger said without looking up from her book.
"It’s okay, Danger," a green-clad Harry volunteered from the balcony above. "I swoop down and save her."
"Swoop now." Danger waved him on. "Peter was waiting by the side of the ship, remember? He didn’t come down from above, because Captain Hook would have seen that. You have to start from down here."
"I like how you did that," Remus said as Harry flew over the balcony and guided his broomstick to a neat stop below the stairs. Meghan, in fluttery pink, followed more slowly.
"Trial and error, mostly," Danger disclaimed. "Look, there she goes!"
Neenie plunged off the banister, and Harry caught her neatly and sat her on the broom in front of him. Tinker Bell flew around Wendy and pulled her hair, but gently, since Wendy had the longer reach. Meanwhile, Captain Hook was cackling to himself on the deck of the pirate ship.
"Gone, gone, all gone!" he laughed. "No one is left to fight me now!"
"I will fight you!" shouted Peter Pan, rising above the side of the ship with Wendy and Tinker Bell. "We all will fight you, and throw you off your ship for the crocodile!"
"No!" Hook clutched the rail. "Not the crocodile! Never!"
Harry caught the banister and hoisted himself onto the stairs, leaving Hermione in charge of the broom. "I think I remember now why we reinforced all the woodwork in the Den," Remus said.
Peter Pan drew his small knife and Captain Hook his sword, and they fought a valiant fight, but Hook was at last forced down the stairs and into the sea, where the crocodile waited (Meghan making ticking sounds from under a green blanket). Hook howled in dismay and swam away at speed, with the crocodile in hot pursuit and Peter and Wendy cheering it on.
"Is it just me," Danger said, watching Harry help Hermione back onto the broom so that Peter and Wendy could see the end of the chase in the den room, "or were they far too cute for their own good?"
"Yes."
"You do know I hate it when you answer a multi-part question with a single answer."
"Why else would I do it?"
Danger snapped her fingers —
And Remus was abruptly wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
Oh, if that’s how we’re going to play... He leaned over his still-sleeping wife and began to take a subtle revenge. You wake me up, I wake you up.
What makes you think that wasn’t the point?
Remus rolled his eyes, his mouth being otherwise occupied. You could have just asked.
But where’s the fun in that? Oh, right there... yes, yes, there...
xXxXx
To the Pride’s delight, all four Triwizard champions received full marks for their participation in Joseph, leaving the standings exactly where they had been before the show — Harry and Cedric tied for first place, Krum in second, and Fleur in third. Harry was less delighted with the side effects of playing Pharaoh, which included girls giggling and whispering when he passed them in the halls, girls squealing when he looked in their direction, and girls sending him things in the mail that he didn’t want.
I may never open a package at breakfast again.
Professor McGonagall kept him back after class about a week after the show. "We can screen your mail if you like, Potter," she told him.
Harry was tempted — he’d had three packages of suspicious size and a Howler singing his praises that morning — but shook his head. "They should get tired of it soon. I’ll be all right."
"Very well. My other reason for detaining you was to tell you to be on the Quidditch pitch at eight o’clock tonight. Mr. Bagman will be there to tell you and your fellow champions the nature of the third task."
"Thank you, Professor."
xXxXx
"... and if you say ‘a-maze-ing,’ I’ll bite you," Harry finished, glaring at Draco.
"Would I say something like that?"
"Yes," said Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Meghan simultaneously, drawing a few looks from other Gryffindors in the common room.
"Well, if you’re sure."
"A maze is a good task," said Luna. "You’ll have all sorts of things to fight, along with just finding your way. The Four-Point Spell will help you again."
Hermione nodded. "You can find out which way is the center of the maze, and work towards it."
"As long as the maze doesn’t change," Harry said. "They could do that, with magic."
Neville shook his head. "Not with hedges," he said. "At least, not easily. Hagrid showed me the plants he’s using. It’s a magical cultivar of privet with deep roots. It would take either very powerful and sneaky magic or very strong magic to change where the hedges are."
"But they could make you think they’ve changed it," Ron put in. "They could make a gap look like it was filled in, or make you think there’s a gap where there isn’t... but no, that wouldn’t work, because you’d walk into it and know it was fake."
"The first one would still work," said Hermione. "Disguise the real passage with an illusion spell, or put something really nasty on it."
"Do you think they’ll put all the worst things on the right path?" Ginny asked. "Because then, you’d know it was the right path, wouldn’t you? Just follow the nasties. If it was me, I’d put hard things and easy things on both kinds of paths, right and wrong. I’d save some really tough ones for very close by the Cup, of course, but I wouldn’t want to give it away like that."
"Hang on, hang on, let me write this down," Harry said, unrolling a fresh scroll and dipping his quill. "Watch for fake parts of hedge, don’t necessarily follow nastiest things, Four-Point Spell... I’ll need a lot of good spells, and help practicing. I want to learn the Stunner for sure, and the Shield Charm. What else?"
"Impediment Jinx," Ron said. "Not as strong as a Stunner, not as long-lasting, but it works on some things Stunners don’t."
"The Reductor Curse," Meghan put in. "It blasts right through things."
"What’s it called, the Globe Charm," Draco said. "For trapping things, like a Shield around something else that you want to keep in."
Harry scribbled down his Pride’s suggestions, adding his own as they occurred to him, and did his best to concentrate on the spells rather than on feeling nervous about the task. The task would come whether or not he was nervous or not, and whether or not he was ready.
He intended to be ready.
xXxXx
"This is your last lesson with me," Professor Moody said to the class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. "So I’ve decided to make it an easy one. In principle, that is. Carrying out what I’m going to teach you today is one of the hardest things any witch or wizard ever learns." He stumped around to the front of his desk and leaned on it. "Everyone take out your wands. Put ‘em on your desks."
Harry set his wand on the table in front of him.
"Look at ‘em. Look hard."
"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Mr. Ollivander’s voice echoed in Harry’s mind as he recalled the first day he’d held his wand, and the strange coincidence of its core being the same as Voldemort’s.
Do I have to think about him right now? For a change, Harry looked at the wand as a Muggle might. Just a polished stick, not quite a foot long, tapering to a blunt point, with a handgrip shaped into the wider end, and fingerprints all over it, as if it were often handled.
"That’s enough," Moody growled, breaking Harry’s trance. "Now, in this room, at this moment, we have twenty-one deadly weapons."
A few of the girls gasped. Hannah Abbott squealed.
"Point ‘em out, somebody."
Hermione’s hand flew up. Moody nodded to her.
"On the desks, Professor," Hermione said. "And yours, wherever you have it."
Moody flicked his right wrist and was suddenly holding a dark wand. "Auror’s sleeve holster," he said. "But that’s not important. What’s important is that you’re absolutely right, Miss Granger-Lupin. A wand is a deadly weapon. It’s also an indispensable tool, since almost all the magic we do is wanded, but I want you to get this in your heads and never let it get out. A wand is a deadly weapon. If someone can point a wand at you, that person can kill you. Like so." Moody’s wand was suddenly centered on Dean’s chest. "Or so." He spun and pointed it at Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Or so."
Harry had been half-expecting this, and threw himself out of his chair in a sideways roll as Moody’s wand came to bear. He snatched his own wand off the desk as he went and brought it up into guard position as he came up on one knee.
The class broke into applause. Moody raised his wand in salute, then let it go, and it disappeared up his sleeve. "Ten points to Gryffindor," he said. "Sit down, Potter. Save it for the task."
Harry took his seat again, replacing his wand where it had been, and fought to keep a stupid grin off his face.
Mad-Eye Moody just saluted me.
"Yes, it looks very pretty," Moody said. "No doubt you’re all daydreaming about being heroes and heroines, saving the world, getting rid of evil." He tapped one of the scars on his face. "Not as easy as it looks. And about as pretty as me."
A chuckle ran through the room.
"If you remember nothing else from this class, I want you to remember these three things," Moody said, leaning forward. "First, as we’ve already covered, a wand is a deadly weapon. Deadly. It can be used to deliver non-deadly force, but when you come down to it, there’s only one way to make certain your enemy won’t be back for more." A gnarled hand gripped the edge of the desk. "But certain doesn’t make it right. And just because you’re fighting for good things doesn’t mean that everything you do is automatically good."
Harry saw out of the corner of his eye Hermione’s lips moving, and could have laid a bet on what she was saying. Good done in the name of Tash is still the work of Aslan. Evil done in the name of Aslan is still the work of Tash.
"Second. Any spell can kill."
The room went deadly quiet.
"Let me say that again, to make sure you have it. Any. Spell. Can. Kill." Moody laid the words out delicately, as Hagrid might display a venomous monster he wanted the class to examine. "Any spell, no matter what it was originally intended for, can be perverted. Any spell can be warped out of its original intent, whether by accident or by design. Any spell can hurt, any spell can maim, and any spell can kill. So think carefully before you do magic, and double that before you let someone else, anyone else, do magic on you."
Harry leaned forward a little, both to listen to Moody better and to feel the slight weight of the Pack-pendants as they swung forward on their chain.
"Third, and most important. I’ll say this for you first, then put it on the board to make sure you have it clear. Copy it down, look at it whenever you have the chance. Especially if any of you are thinking of going into MLE or the Auror Office. You’ll need to know it then. Here it is."
Moody looked around the room, making sure every eye was on him, before he began to speak again, in a careful and deliberate tone. "There is only one reason for using force, any kind of force, on another human being. That reason is that the other human being is doing something which must be stopped. The need to stop that person must be so great that it does not matter if that other person is hurt, if that other person dies, as a result of being stopped. That is the only just reason to use force, of any kind, in any degree."
The words lived in the air between professor and class for a few seconds.
"Remember it," Moody said finally. "If you do, as unlikely as that is, I’ll know I’ve taught you something worth remembering."
And it is worth remembering. It was taught to me by my instructor in Handgun 101, a former US Marine, a Vietnam veteran, and a good man. This chapter is dedicated to Bob, my Mad-Eye Moody.