Facing Danger
Chapter 12: Help, I Need Somebody (Year 5)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 12: Help, I Need Somebody
"Pardon me," said Percy Weasley, looking around the door into the kitchen where his mother was sitting and talking with Danger and Aletha.
"Oh, Percy!" Molly jumped up and ran to her third son. "It’s good to see you—can you stay for dinner?"
"Yes, I was just coming to ask if I might."
"You’re always welcome, you know that," Molly scolded him. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"
"Yes, Mother..."
Danger and Aletha glanced at each other, then got up and left the kitchen, nodding to Percy as they passed him.
Bartemius Crouch was standing in the front hall, regarding the scar where the portrait of Sirius’ mother had once hung. Aletha’s shoulders went back at the sight of him. "Stay quiet," she said out the side of her mouth. "Maybe we can get upstairs..."
"Mrs. Freeman-Black," Crouch acknowledged, turning to face them. "Mrs. Granger-Lupin."
Danger nodded to the man. Aletha didn’t move.
"Do you have a moment?" Crouch asked. "I was hoping to speak with you, or with your husbands."
"Of course," Danger said, stepping on Aletha’s foot. "The front room, just there, will be fine. Be polite," she hissed at Aletha as soon as Crouch was out of sight. "He’s part of the Order."
"I don’t like him."
"I thought you were growing Sirius up, not him dragging you down." Danger rounded the side of the door and got her company smile in place. "Did you come with Percy?" she asked Crouch as she sat down.
"I did." Crouch seated himself once Aletha had taken a seat next to Danger. "He’s spoken so often and so glowingly of his mother’s cooking that I hoped to get a sample. And he’s mentioned yours a few times as well, Mrs. Granger-Lupin. You and the Weasleys live near one another?"
"We do. Though they’ve lived there much longer. We only moved into our house in 1988."
"What is it you were hoping to speak with us about?" Aletha asked bluntly, in a tone that indicated she was tired of small talk.
Crouch met her eyes openly. "You have no reason to like me," he said. "I’ll admit that. But I’m a different man than the one who sent your husband to prison, Mrs. Freeman-Black. Please don’t blame me for that man’s mistakes. I’ve been through a lot since then, and I’d like to think it’s changed me for the better. I’m not asking for friendship, not even for forgiveness, but since we find ourselves fighting in the same war, perhaps I can ask for a cessation of hostilities."
Aletha hadn’t moved during Crouch’s little speech, except to lean forward slightly. Now she smiled, a rueful expression. "Have I been so open about it?" she said. "I’d hoped I was concealing it a little better than that."
"No, you’re quite good at hiding your feelings," said Crouch. "But I know from experience how people act when they’re hiding something. Not to mention, your husband is singularly less gifted in that area than you are."
Aletha laughed shortly. "True. Very true. Sirius can act, but only when he has his entire mind set on the goal that acting will gain him. For anything less, he wears his heart on his sleeve. I assume you’d like this ‘cessation of hostilities’ to include him, if possible?"
"I don’t ask for miracles, but yes." Crouch fingered the embroidery on his chair. "My job hangs by a thread, my loyalties are questioned at every turn, and my sanity is being attacked. I can’t come here often, but it would be pleasant to spend my few hours with others who think as I do without wondering if I’m going to be shunned or cursed by the people who are supposedly my allies."
"You have a point, Mr. Crouch." Aletha inclined her head. "I am sorry for the way we’ve treated you. I thought I’d learned my lesson about letting go of the past, but it seems some things need to be learned and relearned."
"How very true," said Crouch, smiling. "Do you think I might have a chance of reaching your husband, or would you like to try it yourself?"
"Let me think about that for a while," Aletha said. "In the meantime, why don’t we practice our cessation of hostilities?"
"I beg your pardon?" Crouch frowned.
Danger tried not to giggle. "She wants to talk to you," she translated. "Try to be polite, if not friendly."
"Ah. I can agree to that." Crouch glanced toward the window. "I see the weather continues fine."
Both women laughed at this.
Weather led to Quidditch, Quidditch led to Hogwarts, and Hogwarts led to Sirius’ expedition of yesterday. "You may not remember Kreacher the house-elf," Aletha said. "He wasn’t here long. He’s not entirely sane, and he hates Sirius for running away and for marrying me. We can’t free him; the shock would probably kill him. We can’t let him stay here, because Sirius would kill him."
"And we tried sending him somewhere else," Danger took over. "Hogwarts. But apparently the orders Sirius gave him weren’t good enough, and he was about to make trouble for our—" She caught herself just in time, coughed, and went on. "—children when Sirius found him and brought him back."
"Excellent timing," Crouch said. "Was there some warning, to tell you this trouble was coming?"
"Actually, yes," Aletha said, pulling her pendants from her robes. "These necklaces we wear are enchanted to tell us things about the people that these engravings represent. We were getting a very faint indication that Harry might be in trouble—"
"Harry?" Crouch interrupted. "I thought he’d run away from school?"
Danger shook her head. "He’s still there," she said. "He knows it wouldn’t be safe for him anywhere else, unless he came here. He’s just hiding until Professor Umbridge decides she won’t expel him on sight."
"I do wonder sometimes what Cornelius was thinking when he sent her to the school," Crouch said. "Is he actively trying to alienate the students and their parents?"
"If he is, he’s doing a marvelous job," said Aletha. "I give it four weeks before the student body is in active rebellion."
"That I will want to see." Crouch smiled faintly. "But we talked ourselves out of your story. What became of this house-elf?"
"He’s right here," Danger said, extracting the chess piece that was Kreacher from her pocket. "Sirius transfigured him to get him safely back here, and we’ve just left him transfigured for the moment while we try to figure out what to do with him."
"I see." Crouch held out his hand questioningly, and Danger leaned forward to give him carved bit of wood. "Owned by the Blacks," he said thoughtfully, rolling the pawn around on his palm. "And you mentioned it was furious that you’d become part of the family, Mrs. Freeman-Black?"
"Please, Aletha. And yes, Kreacher never liked me." Aletha shuddered. "The feeling was entirely mutual."
"So I would assume it’s rather puritanical about blood purity."
"Very definitely," Danger said.
Crouch closed his hand around the chess piece. "I live alone," he said. "And I no longer have a house-elf, after certain...unfortunate circumstances caused me to dismiss mine. I know where she is now, and I’m not sorry. She’s better off. But I do need some help around the house. Would your husband possibly be willing to sell Kreacher, Mrs...Aletha?"
Aletha looked over at Danger, her face bright. Danger grinned at her friend. Sounds good to me, she signed, rubbing her right ear.
"I think he might," Aletha said, looking back at Crouch. "I think he very well might."
xXxXx
Harry timed his steps carefully as he crossed the Great Hall under the Invisibility Cloak. Just because no one could see him didn’t mean they couldn’t hear him if he wasn’t careful.
This probably isn’t smart, going out in the middle of the day like this, but where else do I have to be? It was lunchtime, he was caught up on his homework, and he was bored. He’d been "walking" all morning; by Danger’s rules, he should have a break of at least an hour and a half in his own body before he left it again. That was too long to make a meal stretch to cover it, and the Pride couldn’t sneak off on daytime breaks as easily as they could after dinner, so Harry was on his own.
So why not go out to the Forest? As long as no one catches me on the way out or the way back in, I’m safe.
Out the doors and down the steps, Harry peered around himself, then decided to risk a bit of a run. Even if the Cloak flapped up a little to reveal his feet, people would either not see them or think they’d been imagining things.
Wizards aren’t so different from Muggles that way.
He made it to the edge of the Forest and in among the trees. Once he could no longer see Hogwarts behind him, he pulled off the Cloak and wadded it up to stuff into a pocket.
I love how small this thing can get.
A moment later, Wolf lifted his nose and howled for sheer joy.
Time to run! Time to chase! Time to play!
But the joy was muted, because playing was really better with playmates. Especially one playmate, one not so much smaller than himself, with many sharp points which had to be dodged...
Harry shook his head sharply. Stop that. Let’s go find Sangre.
Sangre. Yes. Wolf liked that idea. Sangre knew where the game laired.
Nose to the ground, he began to search for the trail he wanted.
xXxXx
Hermione looked up from studying the tiny lizard in her hands, froze, and elbowed Ron. "Don’t say anything," she hissed out the side of her mouth. "Just look at the edge of the Forest."
"What about—" Ron stopped abruptly. "He’s mad."
Standing calmly between two trees behind Hagrid’s cabin, a large dark-furred wolf was regarding the Care of Magical Creatures class and its substitute teacher, a gray-haired witch with a prominent chin who’d told them to call her Professor Grubbly-Plank. Hermione was a little worried about Hagrid, but with both Madame Maxime and Norbert the dragon with him, he’d be safe.
I hope.
Ron had got Draco and Neville’s attention, and Draco was now staring at Wolf as well. Neville stroked his moke’s back for a moment, his eyes half-shut as in concentration, then looked up and nodded to Wolf. It’s safe, he hand-signed with the hand not holding the lizard. You can come in.
Wolf bounded towards the class and changed into Harry mid-leap. "I went out to see Sangre," he said, stopping beside Draco and Neville’s table. "What are these things?"
Draco shook his head fractionally. "We can’t talk," he said without moving his lips. "They’d see."
"Would they?" Neville asked in a normal tone. "They’re called mokes, Harry. Watch—they shrink." He held up his moke and flicked a finger at it. The moke immediately dwindled into insignificance on his palm. "It’s how they hide."
"Can I hold it?"
Neville deposited his moke in Harry’s hand. "I hid this too," he told Draco. "Anyone else who looks over here, or listens, will just see us talking about the mokes."
"I’m stupid," Draco said to his moke. "Did you know I was stupid?"
"Are you talking to the lizard, or to us?" Ron asked.
"The lizard. I’m not stupid enough to ask you that question."
"Damn."
xXxXx
Brian Li rounded the last corner. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, he recited mentally, may be found at...
The house began to appear before he’d even completed the phrase. He sighed in relief. I could use a drink, and something to eat. Some healing potions. And then some sleep. The half-healed bites on his arm itched, and he scratched at them absently. Perhaps put the healing a little higher on the list.
The door opened before he had a chance to touch the knob. "You’re back," said Corona, an uncertain smile on her face.
"Yes." Brian stepped inside the house and let her shut the door. "Yes. I’m back."
"Did it go well?"
"Well enough." He slipped off his cloak and started for the closet, but he only got three steps before it was taken from his hands. "What—"
"Go and sit down," Corona said, pointing firmly toward the front room with the hand not holding his cloak. "Now."
Bemusedly, Brian obeyed, watching out of the corner of his eye as Corona hung his cloak on one of the hooks inside the closet, then disappeared down the hall for a moment before coming back around the corner. "Remus asked to be told when you arrived," she said. "One of the house-elves will be up in a moment with something for you to eat and drink, and a potion for those." She pointed at his arms. "And what happened? I thought you had taken the Wolfsbane with you."
"I did." Brian moved over slightly on the couch where he was sitting, not enough to be a direct invitation but making it clear Corona would be welcome if she joined him. "But I was near a werewolf settlement on the full moon, and one of the males decided my presence was unwelcome. He decided to evict me through direct action."
"Oh, no," Corona breathed, crossing to sit down next to him. "Did he—did you—"
"He lives," Brian said quickly. "We both lived to see the morning." He could not resist a smile. "Though he was less happy about it than I. Having both a human mind and some knowledge of where and how an attacker may be best thwarted gave me something of an unfair advantage over my opponent."
"In battle," said Mr. Lupin—no, Remus—entering just in time to hear this, "there is no such thing. Honor is for duels. Battles are about surviving." He sat down and drew a quill and a small Muggle notebook from his pocket. "Where did you start?"
"The small encampment near Brighton," Brian said, pulling his own somewhat grimy notes from his pocket. "Six werewolves live there full-time, but at least six more stop in every now and again." A loud crack, and he handed the notes to Corona to take a loaded tray from Winky. "Thank you," he said to both females.
"How do they break down male and female?" Remus asked.
"The permanent residents are four female, two male. The wanderers are mostly male, but one female was mentioned as dropping by occasionally." Brian set the tray on his lap, opened the flask of pale blue potion, and drank it as quickly as he could without spilling, sighing in relief as the twinges in his joints and the painful itching on his arms subsided. "I had news of a traveling female elsewhere as well," he added, setting down the flask again. "Is that very uncommon?"
"Somewhat," Remus said, making a note, "but then not everything is as simple as male and female. Go on."
Corona unrolled the scroll and held it where Brian could see it. He smiled thanks to her, squinted at the next notation, and deciphered it. "Three of the full-time residents at Brighton were willing to listen to me, if not to believe me right away..."
xXxXx
"So," Draco said to Harry after dinner on Wednesday. "How did it go?"
"How did what go?"
"Weren’t you meeting Cho Chang today?"
Harry shrugged. "She wrote Hermione this morning to tell me she couldn’t make it. A meeting for a club of hers got rescheduled."
"Sorry."
"Yeah, it’s all your fault." Harry dunked his hand into the flour and started scraping his bread dough out of its bowl. "I have to tell her she can get notes straight to me by house-elf. Hermione doesn’t like being used as a courier service."
"Hermione doesn’t like anything lately." Draco stole a scrap of bread dough and popped it in his mouth. "I think she’s got nerves about O.W.L.s."
"Already? It’s barely the middle of September!"
"You know Hermione."
Harry left the imprints of his fists in the bread dough. "There are days I wish I didn’t."
xXxXx
Theodore Nott followed his father down the Hogsmeade side street. "Sir, where are we going?" he asked uncertainly.
"I have business," Patroclus Nott said without looking around. "And you have a lesson to learn. One you will not learn at Hogwarts." He sneered the word.
"Hogwarts isn’t so bad," Theo muttered under his breath.
At least there, the people who don’t like me just ignore me. They don’t come looking for me and claim they need to teach me a lesson.
Well, most of the time, they don’t.
"Here," Father said, breaking into Theo’s gloomy thoughts. "This is the place."
"This?" Theo looked up at a dingy storefront with two floors’ worth of small windows above it. "It’s not even open."
"For us, it is open." Father stepped up to the door and rapped briskly on it. It opened after only a second, and Father turned and beckoned Theo impatiently.
Theo crossed the threshold with a little shiver. For no reason he could understand, the building made him feel cold and unwanted. "What business are you doing, Father?" he asked as Father shed his cloak. "Can I watch?"
"Your lesson will come first. After that, yes, you may watch, and listen. Perhaps you will even learn something." Father turned away to hang up his cloak. "Though that would be a miracle," he said under his breath, but still loud enough for Theo to hear.
Theo bit his lip hard. I don’t make mistakes on purpose. I’m just not very good at the things you want me to do. And is that so bad, really?
Father ushered him up a flight of stairs and halfway down a hall. "How many of your Housemates do you know by sight?" he asked, taking out his wand.
"Most of them, I think," Theo said truthfully. "Not the first years as yet, but most of the rest."
"Excellent." Father tapped his wand twice against the door, making a section transparent. "Then you will know this boy, will you not?"
Theo looked, and looked again, and stared.
"Pritchard," he said, looking up at Father. "But—I thought—"
"I know what you thought." Father restored the door to its original state. "But hear me well, Theodore. Parvus Pritchard fights for the Dark Lord now. You have seen why. I need no such incentive. I know where my loyalties lie. And so will everyone in my household." His eyes sought the door again for a moment before locking onto Theo’s. "You understand me."
Theo gulped, not even trying to conceal it. "Yes, Father," he said almost inaudibly. His imagination was busy painting himself into the place of the thin boy sitting on the bed, his head bent over a piece of parchment, folding and refolding it.
A tiny room. No windows. No air. Alone.
No one would know where I was. No one would know what was happening to me. And no one would look for me, because I was with my father.
"I will always come for you, Theodore," Father said quietly. "Remember that. No matter what might happen to you, I will always come to find you."
Unable to say anything, Theodore nodded, praying that the fear squeezing his heart didn’t show in his eyes.
xXxXx
Ginny glanced up from her Charms text and did a double take. "Excuse me," she said to Ron, getting up from her comfortable spot on the floor of the Den, "but who told you you could take my clay?"
"I didn’t take a lot of it. And you can have it back when I’m done. What next, Harry?"
"That’s not the point," Ginny cut Harry off. "The point is, you didn’t ask. And I want it back. Now."
"We need it, Ginny," Harry said. "We’re using it."
"I can see that. But you didn’t ask." Ginny made to grab the corner off the blobby building sitting on the table in front of Ron.
Ron blocked her hand with his own. "It’s important, Ginny," he said. "And if it means that much to you, I’ll ask. Ginny, can we please use your clay?"
"What are you using it for?"
"We’re modeling the house where Graham Pritchard is," Harry said. "Or trying to. It’s not going very well."
"No, it isn’t." Ginny pushed at Ron’s shoulder. "Budge up."
Ron got out of his chair, and Ginny sat down in it. "How many stories?" she asked Harry.
"Three."
Ginny stroked the building a little taller, urging the clay upwards. "Does it really have this thick wall all around the top of the roof?"
"Yeah, that’s there. There’s a door in it, and stairs."
"Where?"
Harry poked a finger into the clay. "Here."
"Where are the downstairs doors?" Ron interjected.
"Here on the front, and here on the back." Harry pointed out two more spots. "This side is right up against another building, and this side is just flat wood and brick. No windows or anything."
Ginny carved out the lines that made the doors with her thumbnail, then drew her wand and split the building down the middle. "If you’re going to use it, you’re going to need to see all of it," she said. "Let’s get the inside right too."
"OK." Harry closed his eyes, remembering. "Top story is very plain, all one room, sort of like an attic, except it’s used as a meeting room. A table and lots of chairs. The stairs from the roof are inside one of the walls, they don’t go in there. You have to take the other set of stairs, the ones that start farther back in the house."
"Slow down," Ginny said, scooping clay out of the top third of the house. "All right, so there are two sets of stairs. Where and where?"
Harry pointed. "These go straight," he said, drawing a thin line down one of the walls with his fingernail. "The back ones twist a lot."
"Probably want to use them, then," Ron muttered half to himself. "More cover. But you’d have to watch for people sneaking up on you."
Ginny finished digging out the rough hole for the stairs and picked up her wand again. Tapping it three times against the clay wall, she murmured "Scalae," then peered into the hole. Sure enough, a perfect miniature flight of stairs had formed within.
"Fancy," Harry said, looking over her shoulder. "Can you do the switchbacks, though?"
"Watch me." Ginny stood up to burrow through the back of the house, ignoring the voice in her head saying she was showing off. I am not. I’m just helping. "Scalae Contortionis!"
Ron laughed. "Don’t think you wanted a spiral," he said.
"Shut up." Ginny reached out and smeared clay down Ron’s nose, then tried again. "Scalae Contortionis."
"Much better," Harry said, . "But they go the other way. Left first, then right."
"Do you want to do it?" Ginny demanded.
"No, but I want it to be right. We might need this."
I hate it when he makes sense. "All right. Hold on." Ginny concentrated hard on what was needed, not on how annoyed she was feeling (though less, surprisingly, than she’d expected). "Scalae Contortionis."
Harry grinned at her. "That’s perfect. Thanks."
"You’re welcome." Ginny sat back down. "Now, what about the middle story?"
xXxXx
Hermione was just starting to settle down to sleep that night when she got a feeling that something wasn’t right.
Hmm. Let’s see. She sat up. Lights nice and low, boys over there to sleep, girls over here, except Draco and Luna, they always snuggle up, and sometimes Neville and Meghan do too, but tonight Neville’s by himself—
And that’s it. Meghan. Where’s Meghan?
She went cat and began to sniff. Meghan had been right over here, the blankets still held some of the heat of her body, but she’d been gone for several minutes, and she’d gone this way, towards one of the doors, one under a yellow banner...
The bathroom? Hermione changed back into a human. I don’t hear anything, but maybe that’s because there’s nothing to hear.
She tapped on the door, but there was no answer. "Meghan?" she called quietly, tapping a second time, louder.
"I’m in here," Meghan answered, a little hiccup punctuating the sentence. "I’m all right."
"You sound like you’re crying."
"I’m fine. Go away."
"No." Hermione opened the door.
Meghan glared at her from her seat by the windowsill. "Why doesn’t anybody in this family ever go away when I say go away?"
"Because we all know you don’t really mean it." Hermione shut the door and crossed the room to kneel beside her little sister’s chair. "Pearl, what’s wrong?"
Meghan hiccupped again, then tumbled out of her chair into Hermione’s arms. "Everything!" she wailed aloud. "I’m so scared for Graham, and for Harry, and for Dadfoot and Mama Letha and Moony and Danger in the war, and for us in the war—I don’t want to fight, Hermione, I don’t want to get hurt, I don’t want anybody else to get hurt—"
We always forget she’s only twelve. Hermione held Meghan close and rocked her back and forth a little, standing up and turning until she could sit in the chair herself, and hold Meghan on her lap, or as much of Meghan as would fit. She acts so grown-up that we forget how old she really is. Except when it all comes out, like now.
"—I like healing people, but not when somebody hurt them on purpose—I can feel it, Neenie, I can feel it when somebody meant to hurt somebody else, I could feel it when Harry came back from the graveyard, it hurts me to feel it, I don’t want to feel it—but if I don’t feel it, that’ll mean I’m not helping people, and I want to help them, I want to heal them, but I don’t want to get hurt—"
"Nobody wants to get hurt, Pearl," Hermione said, hugging her sister closer. "But maybe you don’t have to heal people who were hurt on purpose with your Ravenclaw power. Maybe you can just heal them with the things Madam Pomfrey teaches you."
"But then maybe they won’t get better!" Meghan twisted to look at Hermione. "Maybe they’ll die! And that would be my fault, because I didn’t help them enough!"
"You don’t have to decide it all alone, though, Meghan." Hermione slid a hand into Meghan’s hair and twisted the braids around her fingers. "You’re not going to be all on your own to decide who needs your special help and who doesn’t."
"How do you know?" Meghan stared over Hermione’s shoulder for a moment, then looked back at her sister’s face. "How do you know I won’t be?"
"Because I won’t let you be," Hermione said. "I’ll be with you."
"You don’t know that for sure."
"You always have me here." Hermione freed a hand to press against Meghan’s chest, against the Pack-pendants. "And I’ll be with you myself as much as I can. I know I can’t promise I’ll always be there, but I’ll do my very best." She looked into Meghan’s gray eyes, frightened but resolute. "Is that enough?"
Meghan sniffled once, then nodded. "Thanks," she said quietly. "Thanks a lot."
"You’re welcome." Hermione hugged her little sister once more. "Come on, we should get to sleep. It’s late."
Hand in hand, the Pack’s daughters returned to their Den, lay down near one another, and fell asleep cuddled together as they had a thousand nights in the past.
xXxXx
Sirius got up late that Sunday morning and wandered down to breakfast. Remus sat near the end of the table, sipping a mug of tea and reading the paper. "Morning," Sirius said, parking himself across from his friend. "What’s for breakfast?"
"Nothing. We ate it all."
"Oh, ha ha. Come on, really, what is it?"
"I told you. We ate all the food. There isn’t anything left."
"You’re having me on."
Remus turned a page. "Go look for yourself."
Sirius glared at the newspaper, then got up and went over to the pantry. "No food," he muttered. "There’s never no food in this house..."
The pantry doors opened wide. The shelves within were empty.
Sirius looked over his shoulder at Remus. "This isn’t funny."
Remus sipped his tea. "Depends on what side you’re on."
"And what side are you on?"
"The ‘I already had my breakfast and this is what you get when you charm our sheets to be cold and clammy all night’ side."
"That wasn’t me."
"And who else lives in this house who plays pranks as easily as he breathes?"
"How do you know the person who did it did it easily?" Sirius spread his hands wide. "Maybe somebody put a lot of time and effort into that spell just so you’d think it was me, and now you’re punishing me for something I didn’t do."
Remus folded back the newspaper. "Did I mention Danger tracked your scent out of our room and straight to yours and Letha’s?"
Sirius sagged. "Damn it."
Remus sighed. "There are days I despair of you, Padfoot. Thirteen-odd years living with me, three with Danger and I both able to go Animagus whenever we want, and you still haven’t learned to mask your trail."
"I have so—I was wearing masker spells all the way up to..." Sirius stopped. "You didn’t know it was me, did you?"
Remus’ lips twitched.
"You didn’t. You were just testing me. You lied to me." Sirius ran his hands through his hair. "And I fell for it. What kind of idiot am I?"
"I don’t know. What kind of idiot are you?"
"Hungry." Sirius shut the pantry doors. "And very sorry for playing a prank on you and I won’t do it again."
"Until the next time you forget that I always catch you." Remus took out his wand and waved it negligently towards the pantry. "There’s a plate on the second shelf down for you. Danger put a warming spell on it, so it should still be hot."
Sirius reached in eagerly, then yelped. "Ow!"
"I told you it was hot."
Sirius showed Remus the part of his hand that had been scorched.
xXxXx
"Harry, I’m so sorry about Wednesday," Cho blurted out while the DA practiced Disarming Charms on Tuesday. "I just couldn’t make it, I wanted to so much, but I have to go to Library Club meetings, I’m the secretary and I’ll be removed from my post if I miss—"
"It’s all right," Harry said, holding up his hand. "Really, it is. Do you want to try again sometime this week?"
"Oh, I don’t think I can." Cho made a face. "I have a huge test coming up in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall wants to see what we remember from O.W.L.s—and then next week we have a Potions exam—what about the week after that? I’m sorry, Harry, I sound like I’m putting you off and I don’t mean to, but—"
"You’re here to go to school," Harry interrupted. "You’re not here to see me. I can wait."
"Thank you." Cho smiled, and Harry’s stomach flipped as he smiled back. "Thank you so much. At least we see each other here, right?"
"Right. How are you coming with the Disarmer?"
"Oh, I’m much better than last week. Can I show you?"
"Sure." Harry pulled out his wand. "Give it a go."
"Expelliarmus!" Cho cried, swinging her arm into line with Harry.
"Oppiliorbus," Harry murmured, and the yellow disk shot from his wand to absorb Cho’s spell. He felt the jolt shock through him, but no more. "That’s good," he said, lowering his wand. "You’re casting it strongly enough to really take someone down."
Cho frowned. "But I didn’t get you."
"Trust me, you got me," Harry said. "If I hadn’t blocked, you would have got plenty of me." He stopped as several interpretations of that rushed through his mind, each dirtier than the last. "Here, you try the block now," he said quickly. "Ready? Expelliarmus!"
xXxXx
Dolores Jane Umbridge stepped out of her rooms, her head held high. I am under no obligation to pay attention to such a revolting thing as a poltergeist. It performs these foolish tricks to gain attention—if I give it what it seeks, it will continue. If I ignore it, therefore, it will eventually go away.
"There she is!" Peeves shouted, swooping down from his place near the ceiling. "Ugly Umbridge!"
Calm, Dolores. Remain calm. His insults have no power over you.
An eyepatch materialized on his face, a huge captain’s hat on his head, and a mismatched and tattered outfit on his body. "Oooooooh," the poltergeist sang, off-key.
Who lives in our castle although she’s no good?
Ugly Umbridge!
She never takes hints how to live like she should!
Ugly Umbridge!
If you are like me and you want to farewell
Ugly Umbridge!
Then listen, my lads, to the story I tell of
Ugly Umbridge!
Peeves began to dive at Dolores’ head, pretending to do each of the things he named, but sheering off before he actually made contact with her.
Let’s kick Umbridge,
Let’s beat Umbridge,
Let’s bomb Umbridge,
Ugly Umbridge!
The poltergeist whistled the last few notes of his song, then zipped off, laughing madly.
Dolores heaved a huge sigh. That was not nearly as bad as I feared.
Her calm lasted until she had taken three steps into the Great Hall, when she heard the first student humming.
Who lives in our castle although she’s no good?
"Stop that," she said sharply. "Stop that humming."
The Hufflepuff girl looked up, surprised. "I wasn’t humming, Professor."
"You were. Stop it immediately. Detention in my office, tonight."
Just as the Hufflepuff began to protest, Dolores heard more humming, coming from behind her this time.
Then listen, my lads, to the story I tell of...
"Stop that!" she shouted, whirling to face the Ravenclaw table. "Stop it immediately! Detention, tonight, eight o’clock! You, you, and you!" She pointed at three boys at random.
"But we weren’t—"
"We didn’t do—"
"What did we even—"
"Enough," Dolores snapped, and turned to walk away.
Then she heard it again. Many voices, this time, instead of just one.
Let’s kick Umbridge,
Let’s beat Umbridge,
Let’s bomb Umbridge...
Every student at the Gryffindor table was humming the song.
Dolores gritted her teeth and ignored them, continuing on her way to the High Table.
As satisfying as it would be, I cannot give an entire House detention.
But wait...why not?
She examined her reasoning and found it flawed. Minerva might protest, true, and so might Albus, but my word is final. And I cannot give punishment to one student, or set of students, and let others go. It would be fatal for discipline.
"Detention for all of Gryffindor House," she announced loudly. "Tonight in the Great Hall, at eight o’clock. If you miss, you will receive two detentions to make up for it. That is all."
The sight of Minerva rising from her chair, her face paling in anger, made Dolores’ day rather better than otherwise. I could use a good argument. Particularly one that I know I will win.
Smiling sweetly, she walked unhurriedly up the aisle towards the High Table, the grumbles of the Gryffindors music to her ears.
xXxXx
"All right, I’m changing my mind," Aletha announced when the cubs’ disgruntled letters reached home. "Two more weeks and they’ll be up in arms against Umbridge."
"Week and a half," Sirius said.
"You’re on."
xXxXx
"This is not fair," Ron said, throwing the letter to the ground. "This is so not fair. Everyone else’s parents are letting them!"
"I don’t think that’s going to impress your mum and dad very much," Hermione said. "Especially not when you think about who everyone else’s parents are. Luna’s dad would probably take her with him into a volcano if he thought they’d find something interesting there, Neville’s parents are so proud of him that they’ll say yes to anything he wants to do, and the Pack would let us do just about anything Professor Dumbledore said was all right, especially if it’s to help someone."
"But it’s still not fair!" Ron kicked his chair hard, then sat down in it, making a face at his bruised toes. "I want to go with you. I want to help you."
"I wish you could come," Hermione said truthfully. "But your mum and dad said no."
Ron gave a sour smile. "Ginny’s not going to like it either."
Hermione laughed a little. "They’ll probably be able to hear her yelling in the Slytherin dorms."
"Probably." Ron growled under his breath. "Damn it. I wanted to help. I wanted to do something important."
A thought tickled the edge of Hermione’s brain. "Maybe you still can," she said slowly. "Did you keep that model of the house you and Ginny and Harry made last week?"
"Yeah. It’s down in the Den. Why?"
"I have an idea, or the start of one. Come on." Hermione jumped up. "Let’s go down there."
In the Den, Hermione set up the model house, then squinted at it. "You need little people," she said. "Like chess figures."
Ron opened a wall cupboard and took out a battered box, rapping on the top twice before he opened it to display yawning and grumbling chess pieces. "Like these?"
"Yes, just like these." Hermione reached into the box and grabbed five pieces at random. "Here, these are us." She set up her three pawns, bishop, and knight outside the house. "And this is a guard." She picked up a rook and set it inside the doorway. "This is Graham." Another pawn, placed in the upstairs room Harry said was Graham’s. "And a few Death Eaters upstairs in their meeting room." A queen, two knights, and another rook. "Do you see yet?"
"Almost." Ron looked at the house for a moment with his brow furrowed. Then his face cleared. "Rook, on patrol," he ordered. "You, pawn, sleep. You four, talk. And you five, be quiet."
The ‘Death Eaters’ began chattering noisily, while the ‘rescuers’ huddled outside the house.
"Black pawn," Ron said. "Watch for the rook’s pattern. See when he’s not looking, then sneak in past him. Not all at once."
One by one, the pieces crept past the watchful rook.
"Bishop up the stairs first, now. Then pawns, then knight. Don’t make too much noise, or the lot in the attic will hear you."
Tiny feet minced up ceramic stairs.
"Pawns, go in and get your friend. Wake him up quietly and convince him nicely to come along." Ron grinned at Hermione. "Like this?"
"Yes, just like this." Hermione grinned back. "Only when we’re really doing it, you’ll move them to show where we are."
"But how’ll I know?"
"Ginny will tell you." The picture came clear in Hermione’s mind as she spoke. "Ginny will chain up with Harry, and that will let her talk to him, even if he’s out walking. And he will be out walking, with us, seeing where the guards and the traps are, and that will let you set them up on the model and see if there’s a pattern we wouldn’t notice from where we are. And you can tell us exactly where to go when, and how to get away."
Ron watched the three pawns coming back out of the room. "I like that," he said. "I’d really be important. You’d need me."
"We always need you," said Hermione. "Maybe we don’t always know it, but we always need you."
"Are you sure?" Ron looked up at her. "Are you really sure?"
"I’m really sure, Ron. We always need you."
"Well...well, good." Ron nodded, watching the group of six chess pieces start back down the stairs. "That’s good."
"Yes, that’s good." Hermione winced as one of the pawns tripped and fell into two of the others, catapulting them all down the stairs. "That’s not good."
"No, it’s not. Bishop, defend from the one at the bottom!" Ron ordered. "Knight, pawn still on the stairs, defend from the ones at the top! All of you, look for a chance to run for it! The back way’s open, try to get there!"
The red head and the brown leaned together eagerly over the miniature battle, watching.
Author Notes:
Because you’ve been waiting so very long for this, and because I’ve been meaning to shorten my chapters anyway, here it is. Enjoy.
More will be forthcoming soon, thanks to my participation in Pack Novel Writing Month. Like National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo, in November, the point of PaNoWriMo is to write a great deal in a short amount of time. I’ve set my personal goal as 50,000 words in the 30 days of April. Which means quite a lot of FD updates, even if I intersperse with a few other stories along the way...