Dealing with Danger
Chapter 52: Goodbye and Hello (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
My humblest apologies, readers... no more 2 AM postings for me. I completely forgot to tell you why! (If you don't understand, you haven't read the chapter yet, so just go read it now.)
Give me one more chance? Please?
Chapter 52: Goodbye and Hello
A fierce itching inside his nose brought Harry awake. He rubbed at it furiously, wiping his eyes with his other hand. Gahh. What is that?
When his eyes were clear, he opened them and saw immediately what it was. A slender, furry, tri-colored back was pressed against his face. He must have inhaled some loose fur.
Harry stifled a sneeze and sat up. The Pride sprawled around him, some in animal form, some human. Lynx-Ginny was draped across his legs, cat-Neenie, as he’d discovered, had snuggled up to his face, and Meghan had cuddled close to his back, with Neville shimmering in and out of visibility in her arms. Ron was stretched out a foot or so away, one hand lingering near Ginny’s paw, and Draco and Luna lay back to back on Harry’s other side.
Huh. No Pack-parents. Wonder where they went.
Harry carefully withdrew his legs from under Ginny, then stood up and stepped over Neenie to make it out of the huddle. Meghan made a little noise, but a half-seen silver hand touched her shoulder and she settled. No one else even stirred.
The events of the night just past danced around the borders of Harry’s mind, cackling wickedly. He turned and went into the kitchen, took the teakettle from the stove, and started filling it at the sink. I have to keep busy. It’ll keep my mind off...
Well, thinking about what it would keep his mind off would still be thinking about it.
I can make breakfast. That’s something else to think about.
Harry set the kettle on the stove and lit a burner under it. As he turned to summon a house-elf, a note on the table caught his eye. He picked it up. Letha had written it.
Dear Harry and everyone,
Good morning. We’ve gone to talk to Albus, but we should be back before noon. Please stay where you are until we come back; I suspect we’ll have a lot to tell you. Call the house-elves if you need anything.
Underneath was a sketch of someone’s right hand, thumb, forefinger, and little finger extended. Harry ran a finger over it and smiled.
You too, Letha.
He summoned a house-elf and asked it to bring the materials needed to make breakfast for eight. Then it took a few minutes to convince the creature that there was nothing wrong with Hogwarts cooking, that he liked Hogwarts cooking, that he just wanted to cook for himself and his friends for today. When the elf had finally gone, Harry slumped at the table.
I’m starting to understand why most purebloods aren’t very nice to house-elves. They’re kind of hard to put up with.
Someone tapped at the kitchen door.
“C’min,” Harry said without lifting his head from the table.
Two sets of footsteps entered the kitchen, both light and feminine. Harry sniffed. “Morning, Ginny,” he said. “Morning, Luna.”
“Good morning,” both girls answered, Ginny a half-beat ahead of Luna.
Part of Harry’s memories of last night came forward, and he sat up, looking at Luna. “You can see again,” he said. “Magically see, I mean.”
Luna nodded. “I looked at Voldemort,” she said calmly. “It was frightening, but I kept switching where I was looking, and he couldn’t get hold of me.”
Harry got up, came around the table, and hugged Luna. “You saved my life,” he told her. “Twice now, with what you told me about Lupisces in February. I don’t think thank you is good enough any more.” Pulling away from her, he knelt and bowed his head, laying her hand on the back of his neck.
“You’d better not do that in front of Draco,” Luna said, pressing down lightly, then taking her hand away. “He wouldn’t like it. Ginny doesn’t like it either.”
Harry turned to see Ginny, but she had turned away so that all he could see was the curve of her shoulder, half-hidden by red hair. “What’s wrong?” he asked, standing up.
“Nothing.” Ginny pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Not really.”
Harry was about to pursue the question further, but several house-elves appeared at that moment, their arms filled with food, and that took precedence.
The sound and smell of breakfast cooking attracted the rest of the Pride. After the third time Harry stepped on someone’s foot, he ordered them all out of the kitchen. “I’ll be done when I’m done,” he said. “If you’re that hungry, you can call a house-elf yourself and get something to start with.”
When he brought the porridge out, no one had.
The normality of eating elbow-to-elbow with Draco and Hermione managed to keep Harry’s memories away until he was buttering his second slice of toast. The sound suddenly reminded him of the swish of Nagini’s scales over stone, and her satisfied voice, telling him what Voldemort had promised her...
Harry gulped as breakfast tried to back up on him. Dropping his knife, he shoved his chair back and stumbled across the room, looking for a door, any door...
There. The knob was in his hand, it turned, he was on the other side, alone. He dropped to his knees on the grass, breathing fast and hard, swallowing over and over against the memories – the taste of snake blood in his mouth, scales crunching under his teeth, worrying his prey back and forth until it stopped fighting him, went limp in his mouth, limp like Cedric’s wrist in his grasp...
You had to think about that, didn’t you.
His last swallow froze halfway down, then reversed course.
When it was over, Harry sagged on all fours, his elbows shaking, barely able to hold his weight. Tears dripped from his eyes as he coughed. The foul mess had gone up his nose, he could smell it and taste it and feel it, and in a second he’d fall into it...
Hands closed on his shoulders, holding him up, pulling him gently backwards into a sitting position so he wouldn’t fall. One hand wiggled in the corner of his field of view. It held a small white handkerchief.
Gratefully, Harry pulled the handkerchief free and wiped his streaming eyes. A glass of water appeared on his other side, and he took that too and rinsed his mouth out, then snorted some up his nose and spit repeatedly until the taste and smell were gone. Wiping his eyes again, he turned to thank whoever had helped him.
The Quidditch pitch was empty.
Weird.
The memories tried to surge in again, but Harry forced his mind to other things. Who could that have been? I didn’t get a scent, my nose was... yeah. He scooted away from the pile of sick on the ground. Little white hands, that’s all I know. Too little to be Ron or Draco, too light to be Meghan, don’t think it was Neville or Hermione...
The door of the Quidditch pitch opened, and Padfoot and Letha entered, Letha hurrying to him while Padfoot moved to the side to Vanish the sickness behind them. “Bad thoughts?” Letha asked, kneeling beside him.
Harry nodded.
“I thought as much. That’s why I brought this.” Letha pulled a flask from her pocket. “It should help to settle your stomach, and make up for what you lost. Only take it when you’re ready, though.”
“I think I can handle it now.” Harry accepted the flask and sipped at the potion cautiously. A sweet grape taste spread out over his mouth, removing the lingering traces of breakfast and soothing his raw throat as it went down. He took a larger drink, then another, and finished the flask in the third. “Thanks,” he said, handing Letha back the flask. “What happens now?”
“We need to tell you about the new rules, now that Lord Snake-face is back,” Padfoot said, sitting down beside them. “Advance warning, you won’t like them.”
Harry sighed. “What else is new?”
“You can decide if you want to be alone to hear it,” Letha said. “Or if you want the Pride to know it too.”
“Do they have to follow the rules, or are they just for me?”
“Some of them are just for you,” Padfoot said. “But some of them are for everyone.”
Harry considered it. “I want them to hear,” he said finally. “I don’t want to have a lot of secrets.”
“They’re not secrets, exactly,” said Letha. “But if you want the Pride to hear it as well, then they will. Just bear in mind, the more people who know, the more people who can tell.”
“We’re not blabbermouths,” Harry said hotly. “When did we ever...” He stopped. “All right, we told a couple of secrets,” he admitted grudgingly. “But we’ll be careful about these ones. Everyone will.”
“You’d better be,” said Padfoot. “Should we start, or do you want to wait longer?”
“Let’s get it over with.” Harry started to stand up. Letha’s hand closed around his and pulled. Once he was upright, Pack-son and Pack-mother looked at each other in mutual surprise, ignoring Padfoot’s sniggering in the background.
“You’re bigger than you used to be,” Letha said finally, rubbing her arm.
“You’re stronger than you look,” said Harry, shaking his out.
“Healers have to be in shape. There are some patients who shouldn’t have magic used around them, so we tend them by hand. What’s your excuse?”
Harry grinned lopsidedly. “You’re the one who keeps on feeding me.”
“I’ll stop immediately. Shall we?” Letha indicated the door.
xXxXx
“Having him after my arse wasn’t bad enough,” said Harry some time later, leaning on the table. “Now he can get into my head, too. That’s just bloody great.”
“But you can fight it,” said Hermione encouragingly. “You know what it feels like when he’s touching you. You can fight him, and shut him out.”
“And he can’t get to you here,” said Luna. “Nothing bad can come here.”
“Can I stay here, then?” Harry was only being half facetious. A hideaway, where nothing bad could get at him, seemed the most desirable thing in the world at this point, though he suspected he’d feel differently soon enough.
“Afraid not,” said Padfoot. “Albus’s planning on redoing all the Hogwarts wards while the students are home for the summer. And he’s asked for help from most of the current members of the...” He broke off.
“The Order?” said Meghan.
“Order what?” Ron asked.
Letha sighed. “Meghan,” she said wearily.
“Sorry.”
“You’d all know within a few weeks anyway,” said Danger. “But even so, it’s a den-secret. During the war – the first war – Professor Dumbledore led a group of people dedicated to fighting Voldemort and the Death Eaters. They called themselves the Order of the Phoenix. Remus and Sirius and Aletha were all part of it, as were the Longbottoms, and your mum’s brothers Gideon and Fabian,” she added to Ron and Ginny. “Since all your families have agreed to help Albus, we’ll all be a part of it this time around as well.”
“Some of us will be helping to rebuild the wards here at Hogwarts,” Moony took up the story. “Others will be looking for a place to set up Order Headquarters, somewhere well-hidden. We worked out a tentative timetable this morning with Albus.”
“Where do we come in?” asked Neville.
“Because all your parents are members of the Order now, Albus will need their help as much as possible,” said Letha. “Also – forgive me, Harry, but this is true – since you’re known to be Harry’s friends, Voldemort may try to come after you. Our Den has the strongest wards, so you’ll all be staying there for the time being. Fred and George as well.”
“Remember, you break it, you pay for it,” Padfoot added.
“We’ll be rotating in and out, to make sure you have one adult there with you at all times,” Letha continued. “The twins may be legally adult, but I don’t trust them farther than I can throw them.”
Ginny snorted. “No one does,” she said. “Or no one should.”
The words washed over Harry, finding their way into his brain at odd moments. The Order of the Phoenix would fight Voldemort. They would set up Headquarters somewhere safe. The Pride and the Weasley twins would stay at the Den until then. “We’re always all in the same house anyway,” he said. “This just means we’re all sleeping there. Like extended den.”
The Pack-parents exchanged looks. Harry sat up. He knew those expressions. “What aren’t you saying?” he demanded.
“Harry, you may not be with everyone else,” said Danger. “We’re not sure yet – Albus is looking into it – but you might be going to stay somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“It’s not our idea,” Padfoot said. “We don’t like it any more than you do.”
Harry clenched his hand around his robes. “I don’t know if I like it or not if you won’t tell me where it is!”
“With your relatives,” said Moony. “With your aunt and uncle.”
Harry let his head fall to the table again. “You’re right,” he said into the wood. “I don’t like it.”
“Harry can’t go back there,” Draco protested. “He nearly died!”
“He was twenty months old then,” said Danger. “I think he can take a little better care of himself now. Greeneyes?”
Harry grunted.
“That means yes,” said Meghan. “Either that or he’s sitting on a pin.”
Girls giggled. Harry raised his head just enough to glare at his little sister. She smiled sweetly at him. “Are you?” she asked.
Harry put his head down again. “Go jump in the lake, Meghan.”
“OK. Anybody else want to go swimming?”
Harry kept his head down as the rest of the Pride chattered around him. He wanted to go back to sleep, to lose himself and forget all of this had ever happened... he wanted to wake up and find out it was still the morning before the third task and none of this had ever happened at all...
Most of all, though, he wanted to stay with the Pack and Pride. He wanted to stay with people he knew, people who cared what happened to him. The thought of going back to the Dursleys, to the people who had put him in a cupboard and left him there, stirred deep terrors within him, fears he’d been almost unaware of until this moment.
He slid off his chair and under the table, changing forms as he went.
Wolf curled into a little ball and hid his nose under the fringe of his tail, closing his eyes. But the comfort he sought from the pose eluded him, slipping through his jaws and going to ground, and another feeling replaced it, filling him so completely that he lost track of where he was and fell into his memory.
Darkness and silence surrounded him, except for his own whimpers. His stomach and arms hurt, and even lying still, his head swam. He wanted to move, wanted to cry louder, but he couldn’t find the energy, and besides, it wouldn’t help. There had been noises earlier, and he had cried and cried, but no one had answered him. No one would come now, when it was silent.
The darkness pressed in on him, but all he could muster in response was a weary semi-terror that was part longing. Darkness didn’t hurt, and darkness couldn’t be lonely. Maybe if the darkness covered him, filled him up, made him part of it, that would be better...
A chill on the side of his neck. Harry jerked and opened his eyes.
Wolf-Danger took her nose away from him. Silly cub, she chided, beginning to wash his face. Hunt your prey, not your own tail.
Wolf squirmed under the merciless tongue. Stop it, he whined. I’m clean already, I’m clean!
Danger gave him a final lick and changed forms. “Are you back with us?” she asked, looking him in the eye. “Not hiding inside your own head?”
Harry changed likewise. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “It just happened. And then I was sort of stuck.”
“Well, come out and we can talk about how you can get unstuck if this happens again.” Danger leaned down and held him. “They can’t do that to you anymore, Harry,” she whispered to him. “You’re strong now, strong in more ways than one. I bet you can fool them.”
“How?”
“Play the omega. Pretend you’ll roll over and let them bite you. Just never let the bites land. Do what they tell you, don’t make trouble–”
Harry snorted.
“Yes, I know that’s a lot to ask.” Danger thought for a moment. “How about ‘don’t make trouble they can trace to you’?”
“I think I can do that.”
“Fine. And be helpful. You know how to do housework, you’re a fine cook... unless your aunt loves to cook herself, she’ll be overjoyed to have someone take some of that off her hands. They may not love you, they may not even like you, but they can’t possibly lock you up like they did when you were a baby, and you can deal with anything else they try.”
“But why?” Harry twisted free and looked into Danger’s face. “Why do I have to go back? I’m not whining,” he added quickly. “I just want to know.”
“And you deserve to know.” Danger’s smile was wry. “After everything we’ve been through... but you won’t like the answer.”
“I haven’t liked anything so far today. I think I can handle one more thing.”
“It’s Voldemort again. Voldemort, and the connection between your minds. You’d be just as safe, bodily, at the Den – safer, actually – but if you’re with the Dursleys, Voldemort won’t be able to deliberately invade your mind. There might be some accidental bleedover, but he can’t attack you that way while you’re with them.” Danger sighed. “Not that this makes me like the idea, nor any of us. You should have been there, Harry, we had most of the portraits in Albus’ office running for cover.”
Harry cracked a smile at the image, but it faded as he recalled what that image related to. “But he still talked you around.”
“Because, unfortunately, in this instance he’s right.” Danger’s lips curled up off her teeth for a moment. “We don’t have to like it, Harry. But I’m convinced that we do have to put up with it. If you’re completely and utterly opposed, we won’t do it, but Albus thinks that if you’re there for a month, while Voldemort is trying out this new connection, he may assume that he can’t ever get at you that way, and stop trying. And you are strong enough, and smart enough, to get through this, Harry. I’m sure of it.”
Harry took some of Danger’s certainty and made it his own. He had dealt with Voldemort, with Voldemort’s Death Eaters, with the Pride and all their personality clashes, with his own fears and uncertainties... he could handle a pair of Muggles who didn’t much like him. He might even be able to handle their wizard son.
Besides, if I do any underage magic there, Dursley gets in trouble for it.
That prospect made him smile.
“Ready to face the world again?” Danger asked. “Or at least a little more of it than the underside of the table?”
Harry shrugged one shoulder. “I guess.”
“That’ll do for now.”
Moony was waiting for them when they crawled out from under the table. “Sirius and Aletha went with the others,” he told Danger. “Albus wanted to see Sirius alone, and Letha’s gone down to the lake with the Pride.”
“I’d better go and give her a hand, then. Love you. Both of you.” Danger kissed Moony, scent-touched Harry, and vanished into the red bedroom.
Harry stared at the floor. “I don’t want to do this,” he said under his breath.
“Don’t want to do what?”
Harry glanced up. “Your ears are too good.”
“You knew that. What is it you don’t want to do?”
“Anything.”
“Yes, it would be nice just to hide for a while,” said Moony. “But I don’t know if you’ll get the chance. Why were you ill this morning, Harry?”
Harry returned his gaze to the floor. “Thought about it,” he said indistinctly. “Last night. Cedric.”
“Did you try to stop thinking about it?”
Harry jerked his head up and down once without looking up. “Couldn’t.”
“Would you like to learn a technique that might help?”
What he wanted was to be left alone. But if he was alone, the memories might come back. And if he learned this, then maybe he could be alone...
“Fine.”
Moony pulled out two chairs from the table and set them facing each other. “This is just the beginning,” he warned. “You’ll need to practice this a lot, and there are other techniques you’ll learn as you get better at it. You know what this is called. We talked about it earlier.”
“Occlumency.” Harry sat down. “The magical defense of the mind against outside penetration.”
Moony looked around in mock surprise. “Is Hermione still here? No, that wasn’t her voice... you do sometimes pay attention, then. Amazing.”
Harry scowled. “Har har.”
“Now I don’t know much about Occlumency,” said Moony, leaning back in his chair. “I learned a little of it for curiosity’s sake, but I’ve never had any real secrets to guard, except the one, and I’ve never had anyone intent on invading my mind. But I can teach you what I do know, and when you’ve gone beyond what I can help you with, we can arrange for you to keep learning with someone better.”
“Okay. How do I start?”
“I can tell you what works for me. There’s no guarantee it will help you as much. It’s a very personal art, you see. Most people use a visualization to begin with, something that makes them feel protected. I tend to think of a wall of fire surrounding my inner thoughts, so that anyone who tries to reach them gets burned. That might work for you, considering your heritage, but if you can think of something that would work better, feel free to use it.”
Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. Fire in his mind, dividing those things that didn’t matter from those that did... fire that would accept him, but burn anyone else who came near... fire all around him, on all sides...
He imagined himself on a broomstick, flying high and free, with a fiery shield all around him. It was thin enough that he could see through it, but no spell and no missile could reach him inside it. He was protected and free, all at the same time.
“Now, make a separate section inside your wall,” Moony’s voice murmured, working itself into Harry’s thoughts without breaking him out of his half-trance. “Remember, no thoughts can cross that barrier unless you want them to. Put all the memories that are bothering you into that separate section and seal it off.”
Within his mind, Harry raised his wand to his temple and drew off silver strands of memory, as he had once seen Professor Slughorn do. Nagini’s gloating, Voldemort’s laugh, Cedric’s doomed run threatened to take him over, but he forced himself to see only the silver threads dangling from his wand. With a flip of his wrist, he tossed them free, and waved his left hand to seal them into their own section of fiery shield.
The memories writhed and twisted, trying to break through the fire. Harry watched them knot and twine around each other, forming a silver surface like a mirror. In the mirror rose an image – Voldemort’s face, his twisted smile widening as he saw Harry looking at him – his wand was coming up, he was about to blast through Harry’s pitiful shield –
With a gasp, Harry’s eyes flew open. He was sitting in the main room of the Hogwarts Den. “It didn’t work,” he said angrily, shaking his head. “I remembered anyway.”
Moony shook his head. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t work, Harry. It just means you need more practice. You can’t do things perfectly the first time you try. Do you remember how long it took you to learn to dance? Or what some of your first cooking tasted like?”
Harry made a face. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”
“But today you cook very well, and dance well too. You kept trying. You practiced, and you learned. Did it work at all?”
“Some,” Harry admitted. “I was on my broom, and there was fire all around me. I could move, but it kept me safe.”
“Excellent. You’ll keep practicing, and you’ll get better. Eventually, you may not even have to think of the fire. A truly accomplished Occlumens can simply blank his mind, emptying out all thoughts and emotions, thinking of nothing at all.”
Harry frowned. “That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not. You know someone who can do it. Your future tutor in Occlumency, to be exact. One of the best there is.” Moony’s look turned grim. “Considering who he has to fool, he needs to be.”
Who do I know...?
“Occlumency is often linked with Legilimency,” Moony added casually. “They’re different sides of the same coin.”
All right, someone who can read minds, or at least emotions and memories. Someone I know. And someone who has to fool someone who’s hard to fool...
Harry groaned. “No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I am not taking extra lessons with Grumpy.”
“Professor Grumpy,” Moony corrected blandly. “And yes, you are, when you’re ready.” He studied Harry’s face for a moment. “Unless you like having Voldemort able to invade your mind, and being kept out of important discussions because he might be able to listen in. I can’t teach you Occlumency at the level that will keep him out, and the only person other than Severus Snape who might be able to do so is Albus Dumbledore.”
“Who can’t come near me, because Voldemort might try and attack one of us,” Harry finished dully. That detail had been part of the talk earlier as well. “How do you know Snape – Professor Snape,” he added quickly before Moony could, “will actually teach me Occlumency? How do you know he won’t botch it up and let Voldemort get into my mind?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Moony admitted. “But I trust him, Harry.”
“Why, because Dumbledore trusts him? Dumbledore’s been wrong before. He trusted Wormtail.”
“That is true. But I have my own reasons.” Moony reached into his robes and produced his Pack-pendants. “One of them is here.”
Harry looked at the indicated pendant. It was the third one, showing the side with the two birds – the phoenix, for Dumbledore, and the bird that looked like a crow...
“A raven,” said Moony quietly. “Severus Snape’s Animagus form, if he should ever decide to try for the ability.”
“That doesn’t mean much.”
Moony smiled one-sidedly. “Would a prophecy convince you better?”
“There’s a prophecy about Snape?”
“There is a prophecy about Professor Snape. Danger gave it to me while we were packing to leave for America. Do you want to hear it?”
Harry nodded.
“In time, the raven will take his place with honor beside the dragon, the phoenix, and the cat.” Moony tapped the pendant. “He’s a Pack-friend, Harry. As much as we may not like him, he holds that place. I do believe that he will ultimately be on our side.”
“Great,” Harry said. “Before ultimately, he could do a lot of damage.”
Moony tucked his pendants back in. “Has anyone told you lately you’re a very cynical young man?”
Harry grinned. “You just did.”
“So I did. Cynicism aside, let’s try this again. This time, with your permission, of course, I’ll try to enter your mind while you have it protected, to break through your shield. Don’t let me if you can help it.”
Harry couldn’t help it. Two shoves and Moony was in, a hot red rush of wind smelling of smoke and black pepper curling all around him. Harry sneezed and his broomstick vanished, and memories rushed past him as he fell.
He was chasing Draco down the hall of the London Den – Kreacher the house-elf stared at him in the basement of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place – snow crunched under his paws as he raced towards the Burrow – he approached the wall in the Chamber of Secrets, his mouth open to speak the Parseltongue password –
A sharp pain seared through his hand, and he yelped and opened his eyes. Moony looked startled and a touch guilty. “It seems your powers aren’t quite as awake as I might have thought,” he said, taking out his wand. “Hold still.”
Harry got a glimpse of an angry, red area on the back of his hand before Moony’s wand tip touched it and it was covered by a bandage. “I thought the Heir of Gryffindor couldn’t get burned,” he said.
“That’s what the stories say. But you’ve been burned before, and even now...” Moony frowned. “My best guess would be that the bindings on your magic still aren’t completely gone. I’m so sorry, Harry, I wouldn’t have used fire if I thought it would actually hurt you.”
“But I used the power. In the graveyard. Shouldn’t I be able to use it now, all the time?”
Moony shrugged. “We don’t know,” he said. “And the only people who do, either can’t talk, or aren’t talking.”
Harry looked up at the ceiling.
“Exactly.” Moony stood up. “Come on, I want Letha to take a look at that hand. We can keep going with this another day.”
Harry buried the thought that he wouldn’t mind never trying it again under a layer of fire and followed his Pack-father into the red bedroom.
xXxXx
“Incomplete unbinding is possible,” said Letha down by the lake, watching the Pride splash one another. “Another possibility is that you’re self-blocking, Harry. That some part of you doesn’t believe you have this power, or doesn’t want it.”
“But I do want it!”
“Rationally, yes. But you may feel that it’s just something else setting you apart from everyone else. You may feel being Heir of Gryffindor is another trap of destiny you’re caught in. You might even feel that your having the fire magic caused Cedric’s death.” Letha held up her hand to stop Harry’s disbelieving splutter. “You know and I know that’s ridiculous. But understanding something with your mind and accepting it with your heart are two different things, and it’s your heart that’s involved here. You can’t force this, Harry. It’ll happen on its own time, or not at all.”
“Just like everything else around here,” Harry grumbled, slumping down on the grass. “Out of my control, nothing I can do about it.”
“No, that’s not true,” said Moony. “There’s one thing you can control about it. The same thing you can control about everything else.”
“What?”
“Your reaction to it. Are you going to let this make you cranky and mean, or are you going to shrug your shoulders and keep going anyway?”
“Cranky and mean,” Harry said promptly.
“All right, then.” Letha smiled. “We’ll just have to treat that the old-fashioned way.”
Before Harry knew what was happening, she had grabbed one of his wrists, and Moony had the other. They hoisted him to his feet and shoved.
Ginny and Neville dived out of the way.
Harry surfaced, spitting lakeweed. “No fair,” he gasped out. “Ambush.”
“You should have been ready,” said Draco cheerily, coming up in front of him. “Constant vigilance.”
Harry spit out one final piece of greenery. “Constant vigilance this,” he said, and hooked a foot around Draco’s ankles.
xXxXx
At least he still has this. He can still forget with them.
Yes, but the rest of the world won’t let him forget for long. Remus looked over his shoulder at the passing students, most of whom were ostentatiously not looking at the water fight in the shallows. Some of them have to have believed that idiot who wrote for the Prophet. And most of them won’t want to believe that Voldemort’s back. So they’ll make Harry the scapegoat, and their neat little lives can go on.
Don’t scoff too hard at neat little lives, my love. Your life has never been able to be neat, so you don’t know how comforting it can be to have everything defined and under control. Danger opened a door in her mind. Feel.
Remus slid a restrained mental hand into the memories, and experienced a quiet, contented peace. Everything was good, and everything would go on being good. There were no great threats, no troubles, only new pleasures to be experienced. It could have become stultifying easily, but he could understand the desire for it. When was this?
Before my parents died. In that last year after Hermione was born. I had everything I wanted, and I was sure that I would go on having everything I wanted forever. And I can’t say what I would or wouldn’t have done, or believed, to make sure it would go on that way. Danger sighed. We fight so hard for peace, and then people like it too much, and refuse to believe that it can end.
Which is why the ones who do believe have to do the fighting. Because if we don’t, who will? Remus watched Harry and Ron ganging up on Draco, rubbing sand into his hair. We’ll fight to defend them, until they wake up and realize they have to defend themselves.
And if they never do? Danger asked quietly. If they keep on insisting it’s unnecessary, even as their homes are being overrun?
Then we still fight. Because it’s what we have to do.
An ironic chuckle. I was afraid you were going to say that.
xXxXx
“Herm-own-ninny!”
Hermione swallowed a small chill before she turned. “Mr. Krum.”
“I...” Viktor frowned. “Haff I done something?”
Hermione pressed a hand to her chest, praying silently for strength. “You tried to hurt my friend and my brother,” she said. “You said all those lovely things to me, and you kissed me, and all the time... I know you were under the Imperius, but couldn’t you have fought it? Couldn’t you have tried?” Angry tears began to sting her eyes. “Or did you want to do what he made you do? It’s easiest to put the Imperius on someone to do something they already want to do, did you know that? Did you want to hurt Ron and Harry?”
Something flashed for an instant within Viktor’s eyes, but was quickly swamped by hurt. “No, Herm-own-ninny,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “I vould never hurt somevon dear to you.”
Hermione stepped back. “I think you’re lying,” she said. “I think you wanted to do some of that. I don’t know how much, or if you’d have done it if Karkaroff hadn’t made you, but I think at least some of it you wanted.”
Viktor drew himself up. “And vot is it you vant from me?” he demanded.
“I want the truth, Viktor. How much of it was an act? How much of what you said to me was a lie?”
Am I really more beautiful in the moonlight?
Viktor sighed, letting his shoulders droop. “The truth,” he said sadly. “You deserve it. I vill tell you. I did not vant to hurt Harry, and I do not know vy Karkaroff did. It should not haff been part of his plan. But Ron... you are sure you vant the truth?”
Hermione’s hands hurt from clenching handfuls of her robe so tight. “I’m sure.”
“Part of me did vant to hurt him,” Viktor admitted. “That is vy, as you said, it vos so easy for Karkaroff to place the Imperius on me and make me vake him under the vater.”
“Why?” Hermione asked incredulously. “Why would you ever want to hurt Ron?”
“Vould you believe... jealousy?”
“Jealousy?” Hermione laughed in amazement. “What in the world does Ron have that you don’t?”
“At the moment, your esteem. Your good vishes.” Viktor smiled tightly. “And I haff seen the vay he looks at you, ven you are not vatching, and the vay you look at him. I think perhaps he holds your heart, and I vos merely... how do you say it... a fling.” He bowed. “Goodbye, Hermione. Think more kindly of me ven I am gone.”
He had left before Hermione could even open her mouth.
xXxXx
The water fight in the lake stayed with Harry over the next few days, lingering in his mind, a reminder that not everything had changed. The Pride was still the Pride, and fun and laughter still existed in the world.
He needed that reminder the next morning, when he met with the Diggorys. Mr. Diggory couldn’t seem to stop crying. Mrs. Diggory seemed calm, but Harry could see the grief behind her eyes. He’d been afraid they would be angry, that they would blame him for Cedric’s death, but instead Mrs. Diggory asked him to tell her what had happened.
Harry left out some of the details of Voldemort’s resurrection, but stressed what Cedric had done for him. “He wouldn’t leave me behind,” he told them. “He could have run away anytime, but he stayed to help me. And I tried to make Voldemort leave him alone.” His throat closed, and he had to look away. “I tried,” he repeated chokily.
“Thank you for trying,” said Mrs. Diggory. “And for telling us.” Her voice turned distant. “He’d just won the tournament, and he was doing the right thing...”
Harry realized that she was trying to find some meaning, some heroism, in Cedric’s death, and his throat clenched again. It wasn’t heroic! he screamed inside his mind. It wasn’t brave, or noble, or anything! It was stupid and pointless, and if he’d gone to get help as soon as he knew something was wrong, Voldemort might never have risen and Cedric might still be alive!
Aloud, he said nothing.
xXxXx
“I’ll miss you this summer,” Meghan told Natalie and Graham as they sat in the library, looking out over the grounds.
“Why?” Graham asked. “You have your Pack, and your Pride.” He said the words a trifle awkwardly, but got them out. “Why would you miss us?”
“Having friends doesn’t mean you can’t have other friends.” Meghan smiled. “The Pack is just a family, and the Pride is just friends.”
“Is your brother going to be all right?” Natalie asked before Graham could respond to this. “I felt so awful for him, having to bring back Diggory’s body like that.”
“I think he’ll be okay, but it’s hard for him right now.” Meghan looked out the window. “People think he’s mad, because of that article in the Daily Prophet...” She suddenly turned back to them, her face worried. “You didn’t believe that, did you? Either of you?”
Slytherin and Gryffindor shook their heads. “I knew he was a Parselmouth, because you told us about his snake friend,” said Graham. “But just that doesn’t make him Dark.”
“And if you say he’s not mad, then I believe you,” Natalie said. “You know him better than almost anyone.”
Meghan smiled again and hugged both of them close. “I’ll really miss you,” she said. “Write a lot. I promise I will too.”
xXxXx
Harry sat on the low wall in the courtyard and watched the world pass by, until one piece of it didn’t. “Hello, Harry.”
“Hello, Cho.”
“Can I sit down?”
“Sure.”
Cho seated herself next to him. “I talked to Cedric’s parents,” she said. “They said you said Cedric wouldn’t leave you there.”
“Whatever they told you, it’s probably true,” Harry said roughly. I really don’t want to talk about this right now.
“They said you tried to help him.”
“Yeah.”
“Harry...”
The pause was so long that Harry had to look around. Tears were flowing freely down Cho’s face, but she still wore a small smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, then leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
Harry stared after her as she got up and hurried away. One hand rose to touch the place her lips had brushed.
xXxXx
Colleen Lamb approached Ginny in the Gryffindor common room. “I’d give this to Hermione, but she’s not talking to anyone,” she said nervously, proffering an envelope. “It needs to get to Harry Potter’s parents. Can you give it to them, please?”
“Of course... but you could just give it to Harry, you know.”
“Oh, no, no, I couldn’t do that.” Colleen’s eyes were wide. “I don’t want to bother him.”
Ginny sat up and sighed. “He won’t bite,” she said. “I promise.”
“Thank you, but I have to be somewhere.” Colleen was already halfway out the portrait hole. “Please, make sure that gets delivered. I promised.”
Ginny lay back down in her armchair and sighed. A quick sniff of the envelope revealed only two scents, one Colleen’s and another male and unfamiliar.
And I don’t know the handwriting, either... maybe that Slytherin she’s always running around with?
She shrugged. It was none of her business.
xXxXx
A day or two before the Leaving Feast, the Pride visited Hagrid. He was sitting on his back steps when they arrived, polishing something black and vaguely shield-shaped. “Skrewt armor,” he said sadly. “The last of ‘em just died.”
“Oh, good,” said Draco. “I mean, how sad.”
“Don’ try that on me, I’ve known yeh too long,” Hagrid grumbled, thumping Draco lightly (for him) on the chest. Draco sat down hard, fighting for breath. “Harry, good ter see yeh.”
Harry accepted Hagrid’s one-armed hug. “You too,” he said.
“Yeh just missed Olympe,” Hagrid said, waving towards the Beauxbatons carriage. “Madame Maxime ter you lot. She’d’ve liked ter see yeh... I’ll tell her yer all right, though. We’ll be seein’ each other over the summer.”
“What will you be doing?” Meghan asked.
“Sorry, can’ tell yeh,” said Hagrid quickly. “Bird business, yeh know.”
“We know,” said Neville. “We’re all junior bird-lovers.”
Hagrid chuckled. “Good way ter put it. Come in an’ have a cuppa with me?”
Harry walked slowly around the cabin, touching things as he went, while Hagrid made tea. Here was Hagrid’s big chair, where he’d sat on the gamekeeper’s knee when he was four... here the big bed he’d hidden under when he was seven... this table was the one Wormtail’s cage had rested on, the night Ron and Meghan brought him here...
“Harry.”
Harry jumped. From Hagrid’s tone, this wasn’t the first time he’d called his name. “Yeah.”
“You all righ’?”
Harry nodded.
“No, yeh’re not,” said Hagrid. “But yeh will be. Trust me.” He lifted the whistling kettle from the hob and poured water into the mugs on the table. “Knew he’d come back someday. It had ter happen, an’ now it has. We’ll jus’ get on with what we were doin’, and maybe stop him before he gets too far this time.”
“Stop him before he gets too far,” Ron repeated in a tone of disbelief. “That ought to be easy.”
“That’s Dumbledore’s plan.” Hagrid hung the kettle back on the hob. “An’ no one ever said it’d be easy, Ron.” He grinned. “If it were easy, where’d be the fun in it?”
“You think it’s fun?” Harry asked stiffly. “You think what I did was fun?”
“Not what you did, Harry, I didn’ mean that.” Hagrid sounded genuinely sorry, and Harry relaxed a little. “But there’s no good worryin’ about it. If it’s goin’ ter happen anyway, why can’ we find summat ter enjoy in it? There’ll be some good things come outer this. You’ll see.”
“More bad than good at first,” said Luna, looking into her mug. “But more good than bad in the end.” She blew gently on the tea. “Sorrows deep and long, but easing for all in time. For if joy does not live, what does it matter if sorrow dies?”
She stared into the mug for a long moment, then lifted it to her lips and took a long drink.
“Like I was sayin’,” said Hagrid. “What’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does.”
“That’s beautiful,” said Meghan quietly.
“This isn’t,” said Ginny, who was standing by the window. “Hagrid, Fred and George are coming. I think they need to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“They have little furry things biting them.” Ginny giggled. “I don’t think they’ll be able to use a quill for a while.”
Hagrid rolled his eyes and got up, rummaging in a drawer. “I tell ‘em an’ tell ‘em, stay out o’ that part o’ the Forest. The centaurs don’ like it, an’ neither do...”
Draco pulled the door open for the twins, who looked surprised to find themselves awaited. Luna got to her feet and drifted towards them as most of the Pride stifled chuckles at the small creatures latched onto all but two of the twins’ twenty fingers (Fred’s left ring and George’s right thumb). “Dentadacts,” she said with certainty. “They only live in woods where centaurs are found.”
Hagrid approached them with a pot of salve in his hand. “Draco, baskets in th’ closet – catch ‘em fer me?” he asked, opening the pot and dipping a large finger in. “They fall righ’ off when they feel this stuff, an’ I don’ want them chewin’ on the floor...”
Luna gasped and dropped her mug.
Draco flung up a hand to protect his face, but was beside Luna as soon as the slivers had stopped flying. “What’s wrong? Were you burned?”
“No.” Luna was breathing hard. “No, I wasn’t burned. I’m all right.”
“You got us pretty good,” said Fred, indicating a scrape along the back of his hand.
George winced as he pulled a piece from his calf. “Hagrid, you all right?” he asked.
“Just a scratch,” said Hagrid, rubbing the salve on his own arm rather than on the creatures on the twins’ fingers. “Little blood, but no foul. Draco, lemme see yer hand.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s bleedin’, that’s not fine.”
“Luna, what’s the matter with you?” Hermione asked, standing up. “You don’t look good.”
“I think I need to go back to the castle,” said Luna shakily. “I’ll be all right in a little while.”
“Can I help?” Meghan asked.
Luna smiled. “I don’t think so,” she said. “But thank you for asking.”
xXxXx
“Potter.”
Harry turned, one hand on the corridor wall. “Professor Snape.”
“We may be seeing more of one another next year,” said Snape sourly. “If you can swallow your usual attitude and show some proper respect for once in your life, perhaps we can navigate through it with as little pain as possible for both of us.”
Harry bit his tongue to hold back his first, profane, response, and answered calmly. “I’ll give you as much respect as you give me. Sir.”
Snape’s eyebrows went up. “Is that a threat, Potter?”
“No, sir. A statement of fact.”
If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think Snape looked impressed. “Very well. I shall keep it in mind. However, I did not seek you out merely for the marginal pleasure of making conversation with you. The Headmaster wishes me, for reasons unknown to me, to give to you some of the intelligence I have gathered.”
“From Voldemort?”
“Do not say his name,” Snape hissed.
Harry filed this under guaranteed ways to get a rise out of the Potions Master and merely inclined his head. “I’m listening. Sir.”
“It seems that your little escapade in the graveyard has allowed the Dark Lord to fuse two of his passions – death and snakes. He is now attended by a snake Inferius. You know what that is, I trust.”
Harry shuddered.
“I see you do.” Snape turned to go, then pivoted again, his cloak flaring. “One other thing the Headmaster feels that you should know, Potter. The Dark Lord is very interested to discover the method by which his snake was killed, since he doubts that a fourth year student could conjure or transfigure a living creature of sufficient size and power.”
Harry leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Snape’s scent was complex, heavily layered with negative emotions, but there were a few positive tinges in it. Amusement and... could it be hope?
“Do you know how I killed the snake?” he asked.
Snape looked him up and down. “I do,” he admitted. “Your guardians and the Headmaster see fit to keep me updated on certain events, due to their unaccountable penchant for calling me a ‘Pack-friend.’” His tone was contemptuous, but Harry caught a hint of something else in his scent. Something old, something still negative, but negative towards Snape’s own self rather than others, and connected with the Pack...
“I have no desire to know what you do among yourselves,” Snape finished. “All that I ask of you, Potter, is proper respect when we must work together, and to be otherwise left alone. Is this too much to ask?”
Harry squelched two or three impertinent answers and shook his head.
“Good. I will see you in the fall, then. Practice whatever Lupin teaches you assiduously, as I can promise you that my tutoring will be much more rigorous than his.”
“Grand,” Harry muttered as Snape strode away. “I’m so looking forward to next year.”
But what does he feel when he thinks about the Pack, and about being a Pack-friend?
Could it be... could it possibly be... but why?
Why would he feel guilt?
xXxXx
Danger stood near the barrier between platforms nine and ten, waiting. Hogwarts students had been emerging for several minutes, but none of the ones she was waiting for had yet arrived.
The Den will be so strange with Harry and Sirius both gone...
Meghan appeared first, holding Trevor, with Neville beside her, pushing the trolley on which rested both their trunks. Danger shook his hand and hugged her goddaughter. “I’m sorry, Pearl,” she murmured. “But he had to leave already. He left his love, though.”
Meghan nodded and rubbed her eyes with the hand not full of toad.
Draco and Ginny were the next pair out, and Ginny met Danger’s outstretched hand with a letter. “I don’t know what it’s about,” the red-haired girl said frankly. “Someone gave it to me to give to you.”
Danger slit the letter open and began to read the contents.
When she looked up, Hermione, Luna, Fred and George had joined the growing crowd around her. Both girls had slightly bloodshot eyes, and Danger made a mental note to ask why they’d been crying. The twins, on the other hand, looked dumbstruck, Fred cradling a sack in his hands.
“This is very interesting,” Danger said calmly. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Ginny.”
And I’ll be bringing it to Albus’ the first chance I get...
Two luggage trolleys rattled to a stop near her, one full, one empty. Hermione stepped forward and picked the owl cages off the trunks, and Ron and Draco heaved Harry’s trunk onto the empty trolley.
Danger moved around the small section of chaos to Harry’s side. He was standing behind the trolley, watching. “How are you?” she asked quietly.
He started a little, then smiled at her wanly. “Not too bad.”
“Good to hear.” She put an arm around his shoulders, and felt flattered when he leaned into her rather than pushing her away. “Now, remember, don’t tell that cousin of yours anything you don’t want to see in print.” She rattled the letter. “It seems he was partially responsible for that article in the Prophet.”
Harry sighed. “Great. And I’ll be living with him for... how long?”
“We don’t know. Probably around a month.”
“What?” Harry pulled away to stare at her. “What about my birthday?”
“We’ll have it as soon as you get back. And we’ll send your presents along.” Danger let him see just a little amusement in her face, amusement at his silliness rather than at him. “We won’t forget you just because we don’t see you every day.”
“I know.” Harry kicked at the floor. “But I don’t want to have my birthday there.”
“We’ll try to make sure you don’t,” Danger said. “But I can’t guarantee anything, and I don’t want...”
“To lie to me, I know.” Harry looked up. “Thank you for that,” he said with feeling. “For not ever lying to us.”
“You’re welcome.” Danger hugged her boy again. “Don’t forget to practice those exercises Moony gave you, every night before you go to sleep, and once or twice during the day if you can manage. Be polite, helpful, and unobtrusive. Remember, your relatives are doing a very kind thing by opening their home to you.”
“Gotta be cruel to be kind,” Harry muttered.
Danger chuckled under her breath. “Perhaps. Are you ready to go?”
Harry straightened his back. “I’m ready,” he said. “I said goodbye to everyone else already, on the train. Tell Moony and Letha and Padfoot I said hi.”
“I will.” Danger stroked a piece of Harry’s hair out of his eyes. “Make us proud, Wolf,” she murmured. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” Harry turned away from her and grabbed the handle of his luggage trolley, pulling it back and away from the others, then turning it and starting to push it towards the main area of the station.
He did not look back.
xXxXx
“So,” said a large, mustached man as Harry pushed his trolley out of the crowd. “There you are.”
“Uncle Vernon,” Harry said politely. “Where’s Aunt Petunia?”
“At the car, with Dudley.” Vernon Dursley looked around, then leaned in towards his nephew. “I don’t care how many freaks are after you,” he growled into Harry’s face. “I don’t care what sorts of nasty things they’ll do if they catch you. If you make trouble, if you talk back to me or to your aunt, if you give anyone – anyone – a reason to think you’re abnormal, out of the house you go. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said meekly. Play omega, Harry, you can do it. You need these people, and it’s only for a month.
“Good. Come on, then, we haven’t got all day.” Uncle Vernon straightened up and started towards the front of the station.
Harry sighed as he followed.
It’s going to be a long month.