Dealing with Danger
Chapter 49: The Third Task (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 49: The Third Task
Wolf loped along the road at the easy, long-lasting pace of his kind. The portion of his mind which was Harry Potter noted that he was moving faster than the pounding of his paws would account for, and that there was a sense of misty unreality about the scene surrounding him, but Wolf dismissed this as unimportant. He was on a scent, and going to track it to its source.
What scent, though? Harry recalled the Pride’s plans to share a dream, in spite of the officious seventh year who had placed a chair squarely against the entrance to the Hogwarts Den and announced his plans to stay there all night to finish studying for his N.E.W.T.s, which began the next day. Was he on the scent of his Pridemates?
No, this is different. This is something else. Heavy and bitter was this scent, and hard to get out of the nose once it was in. Wolf sneezed and turned his nose from the trail for a moment to get some relief before ploughing onward. I’ll find you, whatever you are, he vowed as a village appeared on the horizon. You are my predator and my prey, and we must hunt one another until the roles are clear...
Harry shifted uneasily. I don’t like the sound of that.
Don’t care what you don’t like, Wolf snapped back. I don’t stop a hunt.
Not even when the prey is too big for you? Harry brought up an image of a full-grown stag, able to break ribs and smash skulls with its delicate-looking hooves, or spear through fur and flesh with its antlers. This prey is too much for us now.
No, this prey is weak and helpless now. Wolf sifted the scent to find the tantalizing factors of frailty within it. This prey will fall before me. Stay out of my way!
No way in hell!
The dark-furred wolf came to a halt on overgrown paths before a ruined house, shaking his head violently as two parts of his mind fought for control.
I am Wolf! I will hunt! No human will stop me!
You’re Wolf, but you’re me first. And I want my body back. Now.
Wolf held out one moment longer, then dropped to the path, whining in submission. Harry surged forward and took his body back, making sure he was in charge of every part. Once he was in full control, he changed back and looked up at the cheerless house before him. "Creepy," he said aloud.
"Tell me about it."
Harry spun, snatching out his wand. Draco ducked. "Jumpy, aren’t you?" he remarked from the ground.
"Don’t scare me like that." Harry stuck his wand into his waistband and offered his brother his hand. "So is this where we are?"
"No, this is where you are. And where we can’t seem to get you out of."
"Sorry?"
"Neenie and I set up a nice place back home at the Den, with the Hogwarts lake right there. And we all showed up, but you didn’t. We kept trying to find you, pull you in, but you kept resisting."
"Not on purpose," Harry protested. "I didn’t even know you were there."
Draco shook his head. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were dreamsculpting yourself. But if you didn’t do it on purpose... besides, why would you make something like this?" A wave took in the dark, dreary house and grounds.
"You know, normal people sometimes just have dreams," Harry said. "Dreams that don’t mean anything, that aren’t playgrounds or warnings or anything like that."
"Since when are you normal?" Draco ducked Harry’s half-hearted punch. "Besides, dreams draw from real life. They hardly ever make up places out of whole cloth. And Neenie and I should be able to pull people out of any normal dream. We couldn’t pull you, not even working together. I decided to come see what you were doing, and..." He spread his hands. "Here we are. Now, is there anything in there you just have to see, or do you think we can tempt you away?"
Harry turned slowly to inspect the house. "I think there is something," he said, ignoring the sarcasm that had permeated Draco’s question. "When I was running the trail, Wolf told me that whatever I was tracking was my predator and my prey."
"That doesn’t make any sense."
"Doesn’t it?" Harry smiled one-sidedly. "Isn’t there someone who’s been hunting me since I was a baby, someone I have to hunt myself someday? Predator and prey, a two-edged hunt, and it can only end one of two ways..."
"Voldemort," Draco breathed. "You think he’s in there?"
"I don’t know who else it would be."
Draco stared at the house for one moment, then rounded on Harry. "You’re out of your mind if you think you’re going in there."
"Draco, it’s a dream. What can he do to me?"
"Trap you in a nightmare until you go insane?"
"Not with you around. You said yourself you can break through any normal dream."
"Yes, and right after that, I said that this isn’t normal!" Draco stamped his foot. "Look. Feel. The ground’s not soft."
Harry stamped his own, feeling only the natural give of many years’ growth of plants underfoot. "Why should it be?"
"The ground’s always soft in dreams. This isn’t a normal dream. I don’t know what it is, but I think you should get out of here right now."
"Scaredy-fox."
"Har har. I mean it, Harry. This is bad. You shouldn’t be here."
"Fine. You stay put. I’m going in." Harry started for the front door.
"Wait."
Harry turned back, his hand hovering near the grip of his wand. "What?"
"Will you at least let us come with you?" Draco held up his Zippophone. "I can get Neenie with this, and she can bring the others. If something does go wrong, you’ll have some backup."
Harry vacillated for a moment. It’s my danger... I shouldn’t expose them to it...
Too late by years, Potter. Remember the Stone? Remember the Chamber? Remember every other freaking time? They’re going to follow you, no matter what you say. Might as well be in charge of it.
"Go ahead. I’ll wait."
xXxXx
The Pride moved through the corridors of the house, wands out, ears and eyes straining. Harry had Meghan beside him, and the sour smell of fear and near-illness kept intruding on his senses.
We should have left her out of this. She’s too little, she’s too sensitive... she started looking sick the second she got here, but she wouldn’t go back and she wouldn’t let us leave her behind...
Neville doesn’t look so hot either. Harry sneaked a look over his left shoulder. He couldn’t be imagining the sallowness in Neville’s cheeks, the way the other boy kept swallowing as if against a bad taste. Whatever this is, it’s affecting them badly. I should have made them stay outside. If I could have convinced Neville, Meghan would have stayed too... she listens to the Captain when she won’t listen to anyone else...
Ron grabbed his arm. Harry blinked out of his dream. What? he asked in hand-sign.
Voices, Ron signaled with his free hand, pointing to a door ahead. We should stop and listen.
Harry signed a thanks to Ron and lowered both his hands, palms down. Cautiously, the Pride sank to the floor, Hermione and Ginny changing forms to sharpen their ears. Harry did the same, then hurriedly slammed back into his human form, Wolf’s ecstatic cries still ringing inside his head. Enemy! Here! Destroy!
Meghan was gray and drawn-looking, her arms wrapped around something invisible in her lap. Luna edged up beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. Draco had Neenie in his arms, and Ron’s legs were submerged under the front half of lynx-Ginny. What’s wrong? he signed to Harry.
Wolf wants to fight.
Ron shrugged. I know the feeling. But no fighting now. Listen!
Harry focused his attention on the voices. Two men. I’ve heard them both talk before, but I can’t think of where...
"I should have known you couldn’t stay out of it," said a voice that seemed too full for its current subdued tone. "Whose idea was this, his or yours?"
"Don’t change the subject." This voice was precise and clipped, used to command. "Do you have the job yet?"
"I’m trying to get it, but I think Dumbledore suspects. He didn’t take the Prophet’s word that the boy was confused, and he’s stepping up security on the last task."
"I can’t imagine why he’d be doing that. When something’s gone wrong with both the original tasks and the auxiliary, all targeted at Potter or one of his cronies..."
"You can’t blame the first one on me. That was your own stupidity. Why didn’t you put at least a warning spell on that door, so you’d know if anyone was in there? Why didn’t you lock it?"
"What sort of fool do you take me for? Of course I locked it! Lupin must have unlocked it, bypassed my precautions somehow. At least I knew when he got into the trunk. And what about you? Your little friend can’t claim he was under the Imperius forever..."
"In another week, it won’t matter. The Dark Lord will be risen, and we won’t need to hide any longer."
Harry saw Meghan’s mouth open, but no cry came from it, and she pushed furiously at something he couldn’t see. Good for Neville.
"Quiet, both of you," ordered a third voice, this one calm and cold. "I tire of your endless bickering."
Harry shuddered all over, wrapping his arms around himself, feeling goose pimples on his arms.
I wasn’t wrong.
He turned to check on the Pride. Ginny’s fur stood on end, Neenie’s tail was bushed out, Neville had become visible again. Meghan’s teeth were clenched, Luna clutched at her left arm, Draco was pressed against the wall, staring wide-eyed at the door. Ron was breathing hard, but his hands were moving in a blur. We have to get out of here. He’s powerful. He might know we’re here, he might try something...
Harry nodded fervently. Everyone, go, he signaled broadly. Get out of here.
Hermione resumed human form, her hands already moving. What about you? We can’t take you out like we can the others.
Harry shook his head furiously. Don’t bother about me. Get the others out. Now.
Draco pulled himself away from the wall and nodded to Harry. His hands moved in a grand gesture, not a hand-sign but something bigger, and a doorway appeared in the air beside him, shimmering silver and gold. Hermione took her place at the other doorpost and waved the Pride through. We’ll be back, she signaled to Harry.
Like hell you will. Stay out of here.
Neville was human again, half-carrying Meghan through the door. Ginny, still on four legs, leapt through without looking back. Harry scowled after her. Fine, he thought irrationally. Be that way.
Luna was through, and Ron. Hermione spun herself around the edge of the door and through, and Draco followed. His left hand stayed on Harry’s side for one second before vanishing, to wink open and closed in one of the simplest signs.
Good luck.
Then the Pride was gone. Harry edged down the dusty corridor, his breathing and heartbeat resounding in his ears, the smell of the house filling his lungs and reminding him oddly of another night when he had dreamed of Voldemort...
This is a dream, he reminded himself. Or something like a dream. I’m not really here.
Can I will myself awake? I know it’s a dream, so can I make myself wake up from it?
He concentrated on his bed in Gryffindor Tower, the red hangings that kept him warm in winter and private in summer, the nightly chorus of snores, the fuzziness that everything took on without his glasses, the small lump in the bed that his stuffed lion made... he wanted to be there, right now, safe at Hogwarts where nothing could touch him...
Something in him responded, sluggishly, but a response all the same. He was on his way, he could feel it —
Movement caught his eye. A snake, as big as the one Percy had described at Crouch’s house, slithered along the hall; it would have to pass him to get to its master —
It stopped, dead even with Harry, and turned its head slowly to regard him.
"Nagini," hissed a voice. "What keeps you, my pet?"
"Something I do not understand, master," the snake replied, forked tongue sampling the air in front of Harry. He held completely still, breathing shallowly through his mouth. "One who is here and not-here — he is not-here to my eyes and my tongue, but here to the sense you have awakened in me..."
"Carry me to the hall, Wormtail," the cold voice ordered in English. "Nagini has sensed something."
"Go away," Harry breathed in Parseltongue, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
The snake reared back. "He speaks to me! The strange one speaks!"
A shout came from within the room, wordless but filled with glee — Harry yelled as his scar exploded with pain, burning, searing into his brain — heavy weights pinned him to the wall, pressing on his arms and legs and chest — he couldn’t breathe, his eyes were closing, the world was rotating around him —
Cold water drenched the upper half of his body. His eyes flew open.
He was flat on his back in his own bed in Gryffindor Tower, pinned down by Neville and Draco. Ron stood beside them, still holding an empty pitcher. All three were staring at him fearfully.
"Lemme up," Harry mumbled around Draco’s muffling hand. "’m fine."
Draco took his hand away and shook it, spraying water droplets everywhere. "You need to learn to aim," he told Ron.
"Fine, you can teach me. And you can show me how to do it when your best friend’s having a nightmare." Ron set the pitcher down on the nightstand and picked up Harry’s glasses, holding them out. "You sure you’re all right?" he asked.
Harry flexed his hand, then took the glasses. "I’m fine," he repeated more forcefully.
"The hell’s goin’ on?" said Seamus sleepily, sitting half-up.
"Nothing," said three voices together.
"I just had a nightmare," said Harry. "And a headache. I’m going to the hospital wing."
"Oh." Seamus slumped back onto his pillow, asleep before he got there.
"Are you?" asked Neville.
"No. Why?"
"We could get into the Den from there."
"Speaking of which, why don’t we go down to the common room," said Draco quickly, as footsteps pounded on the staircase. "I don’t think Greene will mind."
Ron nodded and went to the door, then jumped back just in time to miss being hit in the face with it as Meghan charged through. Harry quickly got out of line with his soggy bed and braced himself. Draco stepped behind him. "Thanks," Harry muttered as Meghan hit him, rocking him back against his brother.
"He hurt you," Meghan whispered into Harry’s shoulder. "He hurt you on purpose."
"I’m all right, Pearl. I’m fine now."
Meghan pulled away enough to shake her head hard. "You won’t be. Not if he gets you. He wants to kill you, Harry. I could taste it..." She shuddered, swallowing hard.
"He’s not going to get me tonight," Harry said with all the firmness he could muster as Hermione, Ginny, and Luna appeared in the doorway, dressing gowns askew. "And we need to go back to bed."
"What we need is to get into the Den," Hermione said. "We know he can’t get in there."
"We can’t get in from here," said Ginny, waving everyone out onto the landing. "Greene’s still planted in front of it."
"We could go to the hospital wing," Neville said again.
"I don’t have a headache anymore," said Harry. "And I don’t want any nasty potions."
Meghan made a face at him.
"We could go down to the kitchens," said Hermione doubtfully. "But Filch might catch us."
"Or we could just convince Greene to move," said Ron.
"Most of the ways you use for convincing people would wake the whole Tower," said Draco. "As much fun as they might be at other times, we need to be quiet right now."
"I’ll go talk to him," said Luna, and started down the stairs.
"And say what?" Ginny asked. "‘Excuse me, but you’re blocking the entrance to our secret hideout that was used by the Founders of Hogwarts?’"
Luna looked back. "Yes," she said simply.
Before anyone could think of a way to stop her, she was gone.
Draco shrugged. "You never know," he said. "It might even work."
xXxXx
"...and then we found the secret entrance in the hospital wing, the one that leads to the library — but not the Hogwarts library, the library down there — it has a tree in it, not a real tree but a wooden thing that looks like a tree. Hermione sits in it for reading. We can call her Neenie when we’re there. She doesn’t like anyone to call her that except Draco when we’re not there. Did you know she doesn’t like people to call her Neenie?"
"Uh..."
"And Harry found an entrance in the Hogwarts kitchens," Luna went on blithely. "It leads to the kitchen there, which makes sense in a funny way, except that you’d expect the entrance in the library there to be in the library here, but not really, because the library is Ravenclaw’s room and Ravenclaw was a Healer, so she’d need to get to the hospital wing quickly, even if she was off resting or being with her family, which is what we think the place was for originally..."
"Er, thank you for telling me all this," David Greene said, taking advantage of the girl’s pause for breath, "but I really do need to get to bed. Big day tomorrow, have to be ready for it..."
"But I thought you were studying all night," said the girl, disappointment lining her face. "I thought you were just taking a break to refresh your mind, and I wanted to help, to give you something else to think about."
"Well, I’ve changed my mind." David flicked his wand at his books and parchments, sending them soaring into his bag. "I think bed sounds like a marvelous idea, and I’m sure to sleep well, thanks to your fine bedtime story. Thank you again, and good night."
He hurried towards the boys’ stairs, praying the girl wasn’t going to follow. How such an odd person had become a Gryffindor was beyond his powers to comprehend. She’d have been much better off in Ravenclaw.
Where she can’t annoy me with her crazy made-up stories!
xXxXx
Luna pushed the chair away from the stone wall. "Thank you, Godric," she murmured. There was no need for stealth mode now.
Footsteps on the stairs warned her of the Pride’s approach. She turned, her smile bright in the dimly-lit room. "And I didn’t even have to lie," she told them.
Draco kissed her right there in the common room, and nobody so much as gagged.
xXxXx
"But who were they?" Ron asked the next morning, holding aside a tapestry for the rest of the Pride to enter. "Who’d be close enough to Dumbledore to know what he’s planning for the third task, but still close enough to..." He lowered his voice. "To Voldemort that he’d be in there with him?"
"Besides the obvious, you mean?" said Hermione. "The former Death Eater we know is here?"
"Which one?" Harry asked.
"Karkaroff, of course," Hermione said impatiently. "I don’t know why Dumbledore hasn’t done anything about him already..."
"Because he doesn’t want to cause an international incident?" Draco suggested.
"Yes, well, I think Voldemort coming back would qualify too."
"But he doesn’t know yet," Ginny pointed out. "What we know, I mean."
"He will in about thirty seconds," said Luna. "As long as we know the password for his office. Do we?"
"No, but we can guess it," said Harry. "Moony told me once it’s always some kind of candy. Everyone start thinking of the last time you were in Honeydukes."
But Harry, at the head of the line, rounded the last corner just in time to see Dumbledore stepping off the staircase himself. "Professor," he said quickly, catching the Headmaster’s attention. "Can we have a minute?"
"Certainly, Harry." Dumbledore held out a hand to stop the gargoyle from moving back into place. "A disturbed night?"
"Yes, sir."
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "As I feared," he murmured.
Harry felt a moment’s rush of anger. If he thought something like this might happen, couldn’t he have told me?
The feeling burnt itself out quickly, to be replaced with realism. Dumbledore has a lot on his mind. He can’t tell me everything he thinks might happen.
In the round office, Dumbledore conjured extra chairs, and the Pride took their seats. Harry gave a short account of the night just past, giving full credit to Ron for thinking of the perfect way to wake him quickly. "But I think I could have woken myself if the snake hadn’t showed up," he said. "I felt something start to change when I concentrated on waking up."
"Good. Excellent." Dumbledore nodded several times. "Is there anything else you can tell me about this house where you found yourself?"
"Yes, sir." Harry hadn’t told anyone about this yet, since it had come to him halfway through his recital of his dream. Still, he was almost certain of it. "I’ve been there before. Not in real life, but in another dream like this, last summer. I don’t remember very much about it, but I remember the smell of the place. It was the same."
"I remember that!" Hermione exclaimed. "The night before we left for the Quidditch Cup, when we went outside to watch the sunrise!"
"And was Voldemort in this dream as well?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry nodded. "He killed an old Muggle," he said. "A caretaker, he said, but the house didn’t look very taken care of."
"Which would make sense, if the caretaker has been dead these many months." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "I would suggest that you sleep for the next few days where you slept last night," he said after a moment. "Mr. Filch will not bother you if you must find another entrance than that in Gryffindor Tower, and I need give no orders to the house-elves regarding you. They have considered you their proper masters for quite some time. Indeed, I should hate to try to countermand an order any of you had given to them."
"But you’re the Headmaster," said Ginny. "Aren’t they bound to you, through the school?"
"Yes, and therein lies the catch. Through the school. None of them are bound to me personally. If I were to leave my position as Headmaster, they would be equally bound to the next wizard or witch who took it up. However, you seem to have personally endeared yourselves to them." Dumbledore’s smile reached his eyes. "It is a knack many wizards of our time have lost."
Draco snickered briefly and elbowed Neville. Neville shoved his arm away. Harry shot them a glare over his shoulder, then turned back to Dumbledore. "What about the third task, sir?"
"You may rest assured, Harry, I will be watching." Dumbledore paused, a flicker of emotion passing over his face too quickly for Harry to identify it. "But I must warn you," he said, "that whatever I do may not be enough. You know well, all of you, that all people are fallible. You have also learned some of the arts of war. What is the trouble with a defensive fight?"
"You can’t pick your battles," Ron answered. "You have to fight wherever the attacker wants, and he’s not going to attack your strong points."
"Precisely." Dumbledore let his eyes rove over the Pride. "I speak to you as I would to adults," he said quietly. "This third task of the Triwizard Tournament is a weak point. Certain of the other judges of the Tournament have insisted that some of Hogwarts’ defenses be lowered so that the champions can be, as they put it, ‘properly tested.’ I do not know if an attack will come, or what form it will take if it does. To borrow a phrase from Alastor, I would urge you all to maintain..."
"Constant vigilance," the Pride chorused, not quite in unison.
Dumbledore’s smile was a bit smaller this time, and tinged with sadness. "Indeed. But even the best of vigilance cannot be forever constant." His gaze fixed on Harry. "Do your best, no matter what befalls, so that no one can speak ill of you with justice."
Harry met his Headmaster’s eyes. "I will, sir."
They held the contact for a long moment. Dumbledore looked away first. "I believe I am keeping you from your breakfast," he said, opening the door with a flick of his wand. "Thank you for trusting me with this."
xXxXx
Yes, thank you. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair when the Pride had gone, his eyes closed, seeing again the quiet strength in Harry’s eyes, the determination and understanding, the simultaneous readiness and unwillingness to fight.
When I think of how little I deserve the trust you give to me so unthinkingly... how miserably I handled your affairs at the start, Harry, and what a poor friend I was to you and yours over the succeeding years. I have failed in your case more often than I have succeeded, and still you come to me with your news, trusting that I can do everything...
"Perhaps I cannot do everything," he said aloud. "But I can do something."
And something is better than nothing.
Even if it is only preparing you, readying you for your first steps on a path you must take alone... something is always better than nothing.
xXxXx
Neville finished writing the final M of Mum and blew on the ink to dry it. "I’m going to the Owlery," he said. "Anyone else?"
"Take something up for me?" Ron tossed a letter towards him. "Morpheus knows you, he’ll come if you call him."
"Sure. Last call for mail."
"No point," Draco said, waving a dismissive hand. "Pack-parents’ll be here at the end of the week anyway."
"That doesn’t mean we can’t write to them," said Meghan snippily. "Can I come with you, Neville?"
"Of course."
Meghan’s hand found Neville’s as they walked. "Can you tell me again the difference between levitating and flying?" she asked. "I keep forgetting it."
"Levitating is just going straight up. Like this." Neville handed Meghan the letters and drew his wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The letters lifted from Meghan’s hands and hovered in the air several feet above her head. Meghan jumped for the letters, giggling as she missed again and again.
Neville ended the spell after a moment or two, letting Meghan catch the letters. "Flying is moving. I don’t know if there are any charms to make things fly, other than the ones they use on broomsticks and magic carpets and things like that, and those are part of the making, so I don’t know if there’s any way to make a thing fly that’s already made. You’d have to give it wings, and that would be Transfiguration, not Charms."
"What about the Mobili charms, though?"
"You won’t have those on the exam. Those are third year things."
"I know, but what about them?"
"They’re not flying either. They’re for moving. Same with Locomotor. That makes things float where your wand is pointing." Neville frowned. "I wonder what the difference is between them, then?" he said. "There wouldn’t be more than one if they all did exactly the same thing."
"Maybe we can find out over the summer," Meghan said. "After Harry wins the Tournament." She laughed aloud. "Four days, four days, only four days left!"
"Meghan..." Neville looked at the girl skipping by his side and felt a strange reluctance to hurt her. She was so happy as she was. Why should he change her?
Because she has to know the truth.
"You know Harry may not win," he said finally. "Or something might happen that shouldn’t."
"Yes, I know." Meghan met his eyes openly, and with understanding. "But it won’t help us to worry about it. Things come when they come, and the best we can do is be ready. And we are."
Neville slid an arm around Meghan’s shoulders. "You’re too smart to be just twelve," he said.
"I know." Meghan leaned into him. "And you’re too nice to be just fourteen."
"Rising fifteen."
"Fine, you’re too nice to be rising fifteen..." Meghan’s modified protest was cut off.
"I take it back," she said when she could speak again. "That wasn’t nice at all."
"Didn’t you like it?" Neville asked anxiously, suddenly worried that he’d overstepped.
"It wasn’t about liking," Meghan said, putting her hands on her hips. "It was about you doing it before I could! That wasn’t nice at all!"
Neville didn’t let his smile show on his face. "I’m not going anywhere," he said. "If you want to take revenge."
"I’ll show you revenge," Meghan said haughtily. "Race you to the Owlery. Last one there has to pay a forfeit."
"Agreed." Neville caught Meghan’s hand and shook it once. "Ready, steady, go!"
"No fair!" Meghan shrilled as he raced off. "I was supposed to have the head start!"
"But I... need it," Neville panted out over his shoulder. "You’re the... deer... aren’t you?"
"Not yet I’m not..." Meghan looked past Neville, and her eyes widened. "Look out!"
Neville turned his head front again just in time to crash headlong into another student. Both of them went down, and Meghan, unable to stop, fell heavily on top of both of them.
Good thing she’s still so little.
"Sorry," Neville panted, disentangling himself. "Sorry, didn’t see you..."
"Weren’t looking, you mean," growled the other boy, sitting up. His blond hair was a mess, and his violently red face clashed horribly with his green and silver tie.
"Dursley?" said Neville in surprise.
"Longbottom," Dursley grunted back, hauling himself upright. "Look where you’re going, next time."
"I will. Sorry." Neville watched the Slytherin out of sight. "What was he doing up here at this hour?" he said, standing up and holding his hand down for Meghan.
"Same thing we are," Meghan suggested.
"Yes, but with who?"
Meghan stood on tiptoe to smack Neville’s ear. "Not that! Mailing a letter!"
"Oh, mailing a letter. Of course." Neville grinned at her. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"
Meghan rolled her eyes, then grinned back. "Race isn’t over," she said in a rush. "Ready, set, go!"
Neville groaned and took off after her.
xXxXx
"You could get him in trouble," Ron offered the next morning at breakfast.
"Who?" Seamus asked, leaning over to get the salt.
"Dursley," Neville said. "Met him last night up near the Owlery, just about curfew. I don’t think he could have made it back to Slytherin in time."
Seamus made a face. "I don’t like him," he said. "No offense, Harry."
"None taken." Harry looked over his shoulder at the Slytherin table. "It’s not like we’re a close family or anything."
"He cornered me in the library the other day," Seamus went on. "Kept asking all these strange questions about you. I told him to bugger off."
Harry chuckled. "Thanks, Seamus."
"You’re welcome. It’s no business of his if you had a headache the other night."
Harry frowned. "Did you tell him I had a headache?"
"No, he asked. ‘Did Potter have a headache Saturday night?’ he kept asking. I..." Seamus stopped, looking worried. "Oh hell, Harry, I’m sorry. I might have told him by accident. I swear I didn’t mean to."
"It’s all right." Harry looked over at the Pride as Seamus returned to his porridge. "How would Dursley know about my headache?" he asked in a low voice. "None of us would tell him."
"From the other side?" Draco suggested grimly. "He’s been with them before."
"That’s a serious charge," said Hermione. "We should be sure before we go telling anyone."
"So give him extra time to figure out what he’s going to do?" Ron shot back. "He’s in with the Death Eaters, Hermione! How bloody long do you want to wait?"
"Don’t swear at me, and don’t jump to conclusions," Hermione snapped.
"It’s not much of a jump," Ginny said. "Can you tell me any other way Dursley would have known about what happened to Harry?"
"How do you know it was about that?" Hermione looked back at the Slytherin table herself. "Maybe Dursley put something in Harry’s food, and he wanted to know if it worked. Look, I’m not saying I trust him, I’m just saying I don’t want to make trouble. Not so soon before the third task. The other champions can’t stay much beyond the end of June, and they have to finish the Tournament or the contract isn’t fulfilled and that’s bad, that’s very bad..."
"Hermione, calm down," Neville said soothingly, raising a hand. "We don’t want to make trouble either. But someone should know that Dursley’s been asking questions that make it seem like he knows too much. That way, someone can keep an eye on him."
"We can write Professor Dumbledore a note," said Luna. "The post should be here soon, and we can use one of the owls."
Meghan pulled a quill and ink from her bag, and Draco produced parchment. Harry scribbled a few lines on it and folded it up, writing Professor Dumbledore’s name on the outside. "There," he said. "No more worries."
Judging by Hermione’s face, she didn’t agree, but Harry wasn’t about to argue the point any more.
xXxXx
Harry was grateful for Dumbledore’s request that they sleep in the Den on the night before the third task. If he’d been in his bed, he would have lain awake all night worrying. Even with the familiar sounds and smells of the Pride around him, he lay for a while staring up at the star-studded ceiling before sleep ambushed him.
The Gryffindor table was cheerful and noisy the next morning. "Bother," said Draco as the post arrived, digging through his bag. "I can’t find my notes on Portkeys."
"Invented in 1206 by Melinda Hastings," Hermione recited, accepting her copy of the Daily Prophet from the post owl. "Improved in 1494 by Frederico Malombo. Created with the There-And-Back-Again Spell, incantation, Portus..." Her voice trailed off as she opened the paper.
"What’s wrong?" said Ron, looking up.
"I’m going to kill her," said Hermione conversationally. "I’m going to get a very large newspaper, and I’m going to smash her."
"I thought your parents stopped Skeeter," said Neville.
"They were supposed to have," said Harry. "Hermione, she hasn’t written another article?"
"Not written," said Hermione, glaring at the paper. "It’s not her name on it. Someone named Ursinus. But I’d bet my magic she’s involved. Look at this." She turned the paper around.
"Nice fresh angle," said Ginny, peering at it. "First Harry was a sad little orphan, now he’s ‘disturbed and dangerous.’"
"Ooga ooga," said Harry, wiggling his fingers.
"Disturbed, no," said Draco. "Disturbing, yes."
"People are looking at us," remarked Luna.
"Tell me something I don’t know," Harry muttered.
Meghan had been reading the article. "Dursley’s quoted in here," she said. "Telling everyone that you speak Parseltongue, Harry."
Harry clenched his teeth for a second, then released them. "Most everyone knew already," he said. "People who had a child at Hogwarts, anyway."
"No one who knows you will care about this, Harry," said Hermione, throwing the newspaper down on the table. "You know that."
Harry nodded. "I know."
It’s the people who don’t know me that I’m worried about.
xXxXx
Blaise Zabini folded his copy of the Daily Prophet, his mind working overtime. Across the table, Theodore Nott was poking at a bowl of porridge.
"Nott." The other boy looked up. "You used to run around with Dursley."
"That was a long time ago, Zabini." Nott looked up the table sullenly, to where Dursley was laughing with several other students over the article. "He doesn’t have time for me anymore."
"I know. I just wanted to ask. Did he ever have anything with his initials on it?"
"Some," said Nott. "But it was just DD."
Which tells me nothing. "All right."
"No, wait..." Nott had his face screwed up, thinking hard. "He had to sign something once, some form or other, with his full name, and I got a look at it. He was pissed, but I swore I wouldn’t tell."
Blaise leaned over the table. "Unswear."
"Why? Why do you care?"
Blaise looked over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table, then back at Nott. "None of your business," he said.
"You owe Potter, don’t you?" Nott sneered. "You should have let Pritchard get what he deserved. Then you wouldn’t be stuck with a debt to some stupid prissy Gryffindor — oh, but I forgot, you love Gryffindors, don’t you?"
Blaise leaned forward again and let some of his mother’s look come into his eyes, the one she used when her latest man was being refractory. "I don’t care what you think about Potter or his House," he said coldly. "Talk."
xXxXx
Harry was determined not to let the newspaper article bother him, and so, it seemed, were the Pack-parents. Certainly, they met him in the anteroom after breakfast with smiles and hugs. Only Danger seemed unsettled about something. "Nothing for you to worry about, Harry," she said when he asked. "Just a bad dream last night."
"Who’s for the Forest?" Padfoot asked.
Six hands went up, Harry using both of his. "I want you to meet Sangre," he said. "You met her already, Moony, but nobody else has."
"Speaking of meeting," said Letha. "Incoming, and Sirius, don’t gush."
"I’m not going to gush." Padfoot scowled. "How old do you think I am?"
"When it comes to Quidditch? Fourteen." Letha turned a polite smile on Viktor Krum.
Harry stepped forward quickly and made the introductions. Krum smiled when he was introduced to Danger. "You are very like Hermione," he said, pronouncing the name carefully. "I almost did not believe vot she told me, but now I am convinced."
Danger returned the smile, if a little weakly. "What did she tell you, Mr. Krum?"
"Ven I told her that she vos lovely, she said that her sister vos lovelier than herself." Krum frowned thoughtfully. "You are, and you are not... your beauty is stronger, perhaps, because it has had more time to grow. But Hermione vill be very like you ven she is older."
Letha caught Harry’s eye and signed to him. Laying it on rather thick, aren’t we?
Harry, trying not to laugh aloud, nodded.
Is he always like this? Padfoot wanted to know.
How should I know? Ask Hermione.
"Well, thank you very much, Mr. Krum," Danger was saying now.
"Viktor, please. I am such good friends vith Hermione already that I feel I know you all — and I vill hope for other chances to make that true."
And with a bow, Krum strode away to rejoin his parents.
"And just exactly how good of friends is he with Hermione?" Moony asked in a quietly pointed tone.
"I don’t know. But they did go off together at the cast party, and they didn’t come back for a while..." Harry tried to remember Hermione that night. "She looked really happy," he said finally. "Like she just got a four hundred percent on a test."
Moony and Danger locked eyes for one moment. "Never mind," said Danger with a sigh, breaking away. "We can’t change what’s already happened. Shall we?"
The rest of the morning was filled with running, chasing, pouncing, laughing, and every other "ing" Harry had ever associated with the Pack, including denning — they rested in between times curled together in piles of fur, with Letha’s glossy feathers arched over them all. It could only have been more fun with the other cubs there, or with the whole Pride.
Someday, Harry promised Wolf. Someday we will romp all together.
His calls to Sangre were answered late in the morning, so that introductions to her were the last thing that happened before heading back to the castle for lunch. During the meal, Padfoot dangled Meghan over a tureen of soup by her ankles, Letha gently plaited together bits of Ginny and Luna’s hair as they sat side by side, and Moony enchanted the crumbs from Ron’s crisps to spell out rude words.
"I told you not to get them all wound up," Hermione scolded Harry.
They toured the castle in the afternoon, Moony and Padfoot trying to outdo one another with old stories, Letha occasionally able to top them both. Danger listened and laughed, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere.
"What’s wrong?" Harry asked during a quiet moment.
"Do you really want to know?" Danger flicked a bit of his hair off his forehead. "You can’t do anything about it, and you don’t need anything else to worry about right now—"
"And I’m worried about you," Harry slid in smoothly. "Sharing trouble makes it easier, you taught me that. What’s wrong?"
"Brat," Danger said without rancor. "Turning my own words back on me. All right, I’ll tell you." She chewed her lip for a moment. "I dreamed of my parents last night, Harry," she said. "Of their deaths. I’ve seen many things, but never that."
Harry’s breath caught. He knew the story from den-nights, knew the bare minimum of what had happened to the Grangers, and could fill in some of the rest from what he now knew of Death Eaters and his own imagination.
Which is officially nastier than I ever thought it was.
"I listened to the voices, and took the scents," Danger went on, her own voice flat and neutral, her eyes solid brown. "I watched to see which of them did what. I will know those men again. One of them I already knew." Her lips twitched up, too quickly to be a true smile, but the start of one. "There is justice in the world, Harry. Lucius Malfoy killed my father."
Harry held back a smile of his own. Yeah, that’s justice. "Kill my father, will you? I’m going to steal your kid, turn you into a werewolf, and generally screw up your life."
"I don’t know the man who killed my mother. But I know that he still lives, and that it is in my power to find him. And I will find him." Danger’s lips drew back from her teeth for an instant. "I will find him, and justice will be done."
Suddenly I know where I get the nasty streak. Daring greatly, Harry laid his hand on Danger’s arm. "We’re getting left behind," he said. "We should catch up."
Danger blinked, and blue swirled into her eyes again. "Yes, we should. They’re two floors above us — good Lord, I did go off. Don’t mind me, Harry, I was just a bit shaken up by that."
"I can’t imagine why," Harry said dryly, making Danger laugh a little. "Can I ask you something about dreams? Not that one," he added quickly, "but dreams in general. And dreamsculpting. Could I be a dreamsculpter? Without knowing it, I mean?"
"It’s possible," said Danger thoughtfully. "But not likely. It can be learned, but you haven’t been trying, so that’s out. Most people who have natural talent for it know about it, if only at a ‘well-can’t-everyone-do-that’ level, the way I did before I met Remus. That was how I knew my prophetic dreams were so unusual, because I couldn’t control them."
"So if a dreamsculpter can’t affect a dream, it’s prophetic?"
"Not necessarily." Danger looked piercingly at him. "Give it up, Greeneyes, what happened? I know there was something Saturday last, but not what. Let’s have it."
Harry grimaced inwardly, but told Danger the whole story, not bothering to leave anything out. His Pack-mother was almost as good a truth detector as Veritaserum, and if she didn’t catch him, Moony certainly would. Danger listened carefully, asking a question or two in various places. They’d caught up with the other Pack-parents by the time Harry finished.
"Moony’s been keeping us updated," Padfoot said, checking inside a classroom. "Empty. Good." He waved everyone inside. "So being the Heir isn’t enough, eh, Harry? You have to walk a little farther on the weird side?"
Harry growled. "I didn’t ask for this," he said. "I didn’t ask for any of this. And if you’re going to make it harder for me..." His hand-sign was not Marauder, but universal.
"You too," said Padfoot cheerily. "Sideways."
"Gentlemen," said Letha coolly.
"Wishful thinking," said Danger.
"A girl can dream, can’t she?" Letha pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I did some reading on dreamsculpting last year," Moony said, sitting down himself. "It belongs to a class of talents sometimes called the mental arts, or mind-magic. There is evidence that these talents are not strictly speaking magical, since they occasionally pop up in Muggles, and are usually strongest in witches and wizards with recent Muggle ancestry."
"Is it an all-or-nothing shot like magic?" Harry asked. "Danger just said something about learning to dreamsculpt."
"You can learn them," Moony admitted. "It takes time and patience if you’re not naturally gifted, but they can be learned. There were quite a few of them, but of course, I was most interested in dreamsculpting, and in related things. And that’s how I read about astral travel."
"It’s like dreamsculpting, in that you do it when you’re asleep," Danger said. "But instead of going to a place that your mind invents, you go to a real place, and see real people and events. Sound familiar?"
"It was real, then?" Harry shivered briefly, thinking of the dank corridor and the snake. "The house and Voldemort and everything?"
"If you’ve been to the same place twice, I’d tend to think it was real," said Letha. "Especially considering the similar casts of unsavory characters."
"Unsavory characters?" Padfoot snorted. "Letha, my villains are unsavory characters. This is Voldemort we’re talking about. He’s not unsavory. He’s evil. Unsavory has a slightly positive ring to it. A pirate might be unsavory, but you still like him. I don’t think anybody besides the Death Eaters likes Voldemort."
"Death Eater wannabes," Harry suggested.
"Who asked you?" Padfoot leaned back in his chair. "I will be so damned glad when this is over," he said. "I don’t think I’ve had a full night’s sleep since you got into this tournament, Harry."
"Yes, you have," said Letha. "I get to hear you snore."
Padfoot glared at her, then looked back at Harry. "Never get married," he said.
Harry made a sad face. "Not ever?"
"Well, be very, very sure about her temper before you ask her. And don’t ever let her ask you. That’s certain death. Ow!" Padfoot rubbed the back of his head. "See what I mean?"
Moony and Danger wore identical satisfied smiles, and their eyes were equal parts brown and blue. "That’s just scary," Harry told them.
"I know," said Moony in Danger’s voice.
Harry let his head fall into his hands. "Why couldn’t I have had a normal family?" he asked the floor.
"Trust me, Harry, even if you’d had a normal family, you wouldn’t have had a normal family," Letha said. "You think Sirius is bad; James was worse. And Lily had her troublemaking side."
"You really want to get rid of us, Harry?" Danger asked.
"No. Not unless I could have you all." Harry sat up and stretched his back. "A really big Pack."
Now it was Moony and Padfoot who looked exactly alike. Both of them were grinning.
"Merlin on roller skates," groaned Letha. "I don’t even want to imagine that."
"Don’t worry, Letha," Danger said. "If it had happened, I’m sure the outcome would have been exactly the same as it is now."
"We run everything."
"You got it."
"So, getting back to astral travel," said Moony. "If you really can do it, Harry, you ought to practice it. Learn to do it consistently, maybe even learn some tricks for falling asleep quickly so you can do it whenever you need to. It could come in handy."
"All right. But after the Tournament."
"I don’t think you have a choice," said Danger. "Unless you’re going to take a nap."
Harry shook his head. "I couldn’t sleep now."
"Last night?" Letha asked.
"We were down where we den. I was fine."
"Good," said Padfoot. "I’d hate to see you miss the Triwizard Cup because you fell asleep on the job."
xXxXx
I don’t care how tired I was. There’s no way I could sleep in here.
Harry’s nerves were keyed up to a pitch higher than any Draco could reach on his flute, half with fear, half with excitement. He was doing well, and he knew he was close. The sphinx had told him so.
I hope Fleur’s all right. That still worried him. He’d heard her scream, but no red sparks had followed it. She had either extracted herself from trouble and gone on, or got into trouble so completely that she couldn’t send up the distress signal.
I like the first option better. Even if it does mean more competition. There were some nasty things in here. He shook off images of Fleur unconscious, bleeding, her wand flung away from her, exacerbated by what he’d had to stop a few moments before...
What the hell was Krum thinking? How would putting the Cruciatus on Cedric help him? Unless he was going to Obliviate him, or kill him to stop him telling...
Harry sped up, turning right. He could see light now, he was almost there —
He saw the Triwizard Cup, Cedric, and the acromantula simultaneously.
"Cedric! On your left!"
xXxXx
Albus Dumbledore looked serene, but that was only by dint of many years of practice. In fact, he was nervous, and beyond nervous, frightened. This would be a perfect time for an attack, not only on Harry, but on Hogwarts itself.
But without Voldemort, the Death Eaters are disorganized, unconsolidated. They would never figure that out, nor would they dare to try anything without their Dark master to pass out rewards.
Still, he prided himself that he had a few tricks left. Harry’s family shared his worries, and had promised to signal him if Harry was at any time in serious danger of death. He was keeping careful track of Igor Karkaroff, and had not let him near any of the creatures or objects which entered the maze.
And for my final trick...
Dumbledore smiled to himself. As Headmaster, he had a certain bond with Hogwarts, not as deep as the bond of the Founders and their Heirs, but it would do. He had magically sensitized himself, on this special night, to the entrances and exits from the castle grounds. Should anything attempt to enter or leave, by any means, he would know of it, and be able to counter it if necessary —
With the typical irony of the universe, his nerves tightened painfully before he had finished the thought. He lashed out with magic, catching the feeling before it fled and holding it to identify. Portkey. Unauthorized, obviously — what, and who —
Two people, taken by surprise. Two boys. Harry — his mind’s feel was unmistakable — and Cedric.
I have caught them — but can I keep them?
He reached out another tendril of magic, looping it around the boys, but the Portkey would not be denied. It refused his touch, shoving him away. He could not shut it down.
And if I merely pull them back, the Portkey will pull them forward at the same time, and the result —
He swallowed against his dry mouth. He had seen people torn apart by improperly made Portkeys, once by accident, again in the war against Grindelwald. There would be no bodies left to speak of, merely bits of flesh and blood scattered between here and the arrival point.
I have no choice.
Dumbledore let go.
Forgive me.
xXxXx
Harry and Cedric stood in a graveyard, wands out, watching the approaching figure. Harry squinted at him. Why was his walk familiar...?
A deep breath brought him the answer, borne on the wind, the scent of rat and man and fear all blended into one. "Cedric, run!" he screamed, just before his scar split his head in two with agony.
Twelve golden necklaces burned cold.
Author Notes:
Okay, it’s late and I need to stop. Besides, this is a great place. Did Cedric take Harry’s advice? Will he live? Or did he stand there staring and get killed? I know, and I’ll be telling you, as soon as ever I can... don’t go away now!
And I promise, this is not going to turn into a Super!Harry fic. Harry will remain more or less normal, and he will not simply snap his fingers and make Voldemort go away. There’s going to be lots of trouble coming...