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Chapter 2: Challenging

Wolf-Danger lifted her nose to the dream moon, like its real counterpart two days past full.   Her song echoed into the night, calling the Pack’s wanderers towards the Den, for night was short and merriment long.  

I wish I could call Sirius this way, but without a direct link, it would take more magic than I have to spare.   And he’s a grown man.   He’ll survive another two weeks without us.

An answering howl and a yipping bark brought her back to the present.   She changed forms and rose to her feet.   "They’re coming!" she called.

"I hear that," Remus answered, laughing.   "I was starting to wonder if they’d ever make it."

"Draco had to wait until Dursley was asleep," Meghan said as Danger slid down from the outcropping of rock where she’d been perched.   "He didn’t want Dursley deciding this was a good night to do something nasty to Harry and finding him there."

"That makes sense."   Remus straightened the tablecloth on the long picnic table holding an array of the Pack’s favorite foods.  "Do you know when they’ll get here?"

"When they want to," Danger said, swiping a finger through the roasted eggplant dip.

Hermione made a face.   "Yuck."

"No germs in dreams, sweetheart."   Danger picked up a crisp with her other hand and transferred the dip.

"I know, but it’s still disgusting."

"Be grateful Sirius isn’t here," Aletha said.   "He’d have taken that as a challenge to see just how many ways he could be disgusting."

"Why do you think I don’t say things like that in front of him?"

"Faster, slave!" roared an imperious voice from within the forest that surrounded the Pack’s gathering place.   "Hurry!"

"Yes, master," came a whining reply.   "Of course, master.   Would master like some onion dip?"

"Don’t be a fool, slave.   You know I hate onions."

"Yes, master.   Of course, master."

The bowl of onion dip on the table lifted from its place, then shot outwards.   A splat, a yelp, and a loud thud later, Draco darted into the clearing, looking pleased with himself.

"You two," Danger said, shaking her head.   "Honestly."

"Yes, us two honestly.   Who were you expecting?"   Draco grabbed a piece of toasted pita bread and scooped up a generous supply of hummus on it.  

"Maybe someone with sense, or manners."   Danger ladled out a cup of punch for Draco and held it out to him.   "Excuse me."

Wolf was about a hundred yards from the clearing, dunking his head in a small stream.   Danger stroked him twice from forehead to tail, and every trace of the dip was gone, even the smell.   "Don’t kill him," she said.   "That’s all we ask."

Wolf bounded a few paces away and shook, then changed back into Harry and returned for his hug.   "I won’t," he said.   "I might dunk him a few times, though."

"Maybe."   Danger pinched her fingers shut in front of her eyes, then her ears, indicating that she was officially blind and deaf on this matter.   "Come on, everyone’s waiting for you."

xXxXx

"It started as a double piggyback game," Draco said after all the fighting was over.   "I rode Wolf part of the way here, and then I carried Harry for part of the way.   Except he decided to be a prat about it."  

Harry raked his hand through his hair.   "Just letting words reflect the truth," he said.    

"Do you need a haircut?" Letha inquired blandly.  

Harry detected a hint of censure in her tone.   "No, I’m fine."  He leaned back against the rock.   "So what’s been going on at home that you can’t tell me about in letters?"

Everyone tried to answer at once.   The babble finally got sorted into individual voices, and Harry listened to accounts of the strange smells the twins made in the corner of the basement they’d claimed for their own, of the silencing charms placed on the music room so that those inclined to practice could do so without driving the rest of the house mad, of the exercise sessions that were growing steadily harder as the summer went on.  

"I was so sore the other day I could barely move," Draco said, stretching as if expecting to find the same aches in his dream body.   "But I felt a little better this morning.   And I know the best way to get rid of stiffness is to keep going."

"What have you been doing, Harry?" Meghan asked.

"Going out for runs, a few calisthenics in my room.   I’ll have to step it up if I’m going to keep up with you lot."

"When do you run?" Moony asked.   "I thought they kept you busy."

"They do, but they’re usually out during the day."

"You had better be wearing sunscreen, and drinking plenty of water," Letha said with warning in her tone.   "Before, after, and during if you can manage it.   Running in the middle of the day, in the middle of the summer, is just stupid otherwise."

Harry nodded.   "I am and I do, and I know.   I’d run at night, but Professor Dumbledore said stay on the property after dark.   So that’s when I do press-ups and crunches and such, up in my room.   That and the housework, I’m tired when I go to bed."  

"It’s just as well you’ve never been one to claim what I do all day is easy," Danger said, smiling.   "Otherwise, you’d be eating your words by now."

"With everything you always made us do?" Harry retorted.   "I knew it wasn’t easy, from the time I was a baby."

"We all did," said Hermione absently.

Harry looked over at his sister.   "You’re being quiet," he said.   "Is something wrong?"

"Are you saying that when I’m quiet, there’s something wrong?"

"No."   Harry held up his hands in surrender.   "You’re just not talking much.   I wondered if something’s bothering you."

"Not really.   Though I am worried about Luna.   We told you about her."

"Yeah, you told me.   Is it any better now?"

"Since Danger put a stop on it, it is.   I just hope there’s some way she can control it herself."

"And that she finds it out soon," Draco added.   "So she doesn’t scratch me again."

"But there is something I wanted to tell you about."   Hermione sat up straighter and settled her shoulders.   "Harry, I’m the Pride’s liaison with the Order."

"Okay..."   Harry let this filter into place in his mind.   "So what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means I go to some of the Order meetings, and bring the news back to the Pride about what’s going on."

"How long has this been going on?"

"It’s only just started.   I found out today."

"All right.   So you report to us what’s going on with the Order."

"Everything I’m allowed to tell."   Hermione looked nervous.   "There might be some things I can’t pass on."

"I thought that was why you weren’t allowed to go to some of the meetings."

"It is, but there might be things, even in the meetings I do attend, that I can’t tell you."

Harry felt a deep rumble of disquiet within him.   "So you’re keeping secrets from us now?"

"Because I have to!   You’d do the same, if it was you!"

"And why isn’t it me?"   Harry stood up, his restlessness transforming into movement.   "It has to be you for the next two weeks, while I’m gone, but is it going to be me when I get back?"

"It can’t be, Harry, you know that."

"But what if my mind was safe?"   Harry glanced at Moony, but the man’s eyes were fixed on Hermione.   "What if Voldemort couldn’t get in?   Would it still be you then?"

"Why shouldn’t it be?"

"Because I’m the alpha of the Pride!"

"And so am I!"

Harry laughed sharply. "You’re only alpha because I am, and you know it, Neenie.   Tell me the last time you led in anything — go on, tell me."   He grinned triumphantly at the look of shock on her face.   "See?   You’re not a real alpha.   Just a placeholder."

Shock on Hermione’s face transmuted into anger, and her dagger appeared in her hand —

And flashed through the air to bury its point in the earth at Harry’s feet.

"Challenge," Hermione snapped, indicating the quivering dagger.   "Three rounds.   Staffs, wands, and forms.   Best two out of three."

Harry drew his own dagger and flung it downwards, burying it so close beside Hermione’s that the pommel stones brushed.   "Done," he said.

"Done," Hermione echoed.   "You choose the first round."

"Wands," Harry said without hesitation.   "And no cheating."

Hermione’s lips pulled back from her teeth for a moment.   "The same to you, alpha."

Danger’s expansive gesture widened the clearing, moving everything breakable out of range.   Draco and Meghan scrambled up onto the rocks to watch.   Letha stood below them, her arms folded.  

"Face each other and bow," Moony instructed.

Harry bowed as he might on the dance floor.   Hermione’s bow was stiffly formal.  

"Turn away and walk seven paces."

Harry let his anger fill every step.   How dare Hermione try to take his place, the place that should be his by right?   How dare she claim to be alpha alongside him, when she hadn’t faced half the dangers he had?   He was the only fit alpha for the Pride — he needed no one’s help...

"On the count of three, face your opponent and cast.   One — two — three!"

Harry spun. "Expelliarmus!"

"Oppilius!" Hermione cried, and Harry’s spell bounced off at an angle.   Danger leapt out of its way —

"Petrificus!"

Harry dodged, but not quite enough, and the Partial Body-Bind caught his left arm, stiffening it and throwing off his reactions.   He cursed, and turned it into a spell.   "Fluctusempra!"

Hermione yelped as her arms began to wave about uncontrollably.   Harry took a moment to get the curse off his left side, then straightened up.   "Stupefy!" he shouted, ready to finish this.

But Hermione dodged the spell by throwing herself to the ground, and in the moment of impact, while her wand was pointing at him, let the breath driven out of her body carry a spell with it.   "Nescio!"

"Oppilorbis!" Harry yelled, and the spell hit his Disk Block just in time —

Or had it?

Had what?

Where was he?  

What was going on?

His senses clamored at him, insisting something important was going on — the girl now sitting on her hand, with a wooden stick pointed towards him, she was important somehow —

Something red flew from the stick towards him.   Part of his mind insisted ducking was a good idea —

Or maybe I should try and throw one back at her.   What did she say to make it come out again?

"Stupefy," Harry murmured lazily, just as the red light struck him.

When he blinked awake, he did so fully aware of his surroundings and of what had happened to him, and sat up instantly, making Letha curse as she leapt backwards.   "Sorry," he said automatically, looking around for Hermione and finding her sitting against a rock on the other side of the clearing, looking as sulky as he felt.   "So, if I lost, do I get to pick the next round?"

"You didn’t lose," Danger said.  

"But Hermione knocked me out."

"Yes, but you knocked her out as well," said Moony.   "You got off an invisible Stunner, and she couldn’t duck what she couldn’t see.   It’s not as powerful as the full-force kind, but it works.   Should we call this round a tie by reason of mutual knock-out, or try to judge it on points?"

"Points," Harry and Hermione said at the same moment, fiercely.

"All right."   Moony’s smile indicated he’d expected no less.   "Hermione had one fully successful block, two solid hits with the Not-Knowing Spell and the Stunner, and a grazing hit with the Partial Body-Bind.   Harry had one partly successful block, two solid hits with the Arm-Waving Charm and the invisible Stunner — extra points for that, it’s hard to manage — a Disarmer blocked and a Stunner dodged, but both produced properly."   He looked back and forth between them.   "You’re sure you wouldn’t care to call it a tie?"

"Just go on and say she won," Harry said bitterly.  

"Very well.   Hermione wins."

From their rock, Draco and Meghan cheered.   Harry glared at them.  

"You do have the right to pick the next round, Harry," said Danger.   "Staffs or forms?"

Time to shake things up a little.   "Staffs," Harry said.

"You’re sure?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Positive."   Harry caught the pole Danger tossed to him.   "On guard."

They tapped tops and bottoms as they did before a bout on den-night, then took up guard positions.  

Harry forced anger away, concentrating on the fire.   Fire burned where it had fuel and air, and moved to wherever there was more of those.   He would be like fire, striking fast, moving past defenses —

Crack-crack.   He blocked Hermione’s first two strikes without thinking.

They had trained together in staff work to begin with.   Though she might know some new tricks from her time alone with Krum, she’d likely revert to her old ways under stress, like now.

Crack-whack.   Another block, and this time he struck back at her.   Hermione blocked him, but her eyes were narrowed, watching him.

Harry aimed three more strikes, and had the answer he was looking for.   She’s weaker low, and on her right.   If I can catch her there...

He feinted left, darted right, hooked the end of his staff into Hermione’s knee, and jerked.   She fell with a little cry, cut off as her back hit the ground hard, and Harry blocked her reflex blow at him with no trouble.   Another hook and pull sent her staff flying, and he laid the end of his staff across her neck.   "Yield?" he asked.

Hermione nodded jerkily, and Harry took the staff away.  

"Go Harry!" shouted Meghan as Draco whistled through his fingers.  

"Whose side are you on?" Harry asked.

"Do we have to be on a side?" Draco asked innocently.   "I thought this was just for fun."

"Last round," announced Letha in a carrying tone before Harry could formulate a proper reply.   "Animagus forms.   When you’re ready, Hermione."

"Just a second."     Hermione was on her feet, rubbing her back.   "Let me catch my breath."  

Harry grounded his staff and watched it disappear in the way of dream-things no longer needed.   The daggers had moved as well, he noticed, or the clearing had.   The space where he and Hermione battled was empty of anything but dirt and grass.

And us.  

"I’m ready," Hermione announced.   "Harry?"

"Ready."   Harry crouched, Wolf’s shape already in his mind.

"Wait for it," Moony admonished.   "Ready, steady, change!"

Harry threw himself forward, his arms already altering, legs and body shifting, head — ah, much better — now he could smell properly, and hear —

There was no cat in front of him.

Where —

Before he could do more than register that the cat-scent had moved, eighteen points of pain erupted on his back.   Wolf arched and howled, then flung himself to one side to try to dislodge his rider.

His howl moved up several notes.   Before he’d flung her off, Neenie must have fastened her teeth into one of his ears — it was torn and bleeding, and it hurt —

No time for that!   Find the prey!

He spun.   The calico cat danced backward, tail lashing, fur bushed.   She swiped at the air with her claws fully extended, and Wolf balked at the thought of closing with those claws —

Never mind the claws!   Get in and use your teeth, it’ll be over before you know it!

He charged across the clearing, and when Neenie leapt straight up, instead of halting or slowing, he moved faster.  

Fool me once, shame on you.   Fool me twice...

An angry yowl from behind him showed he’d calculated correctly.   Paw pads skidded as Wolf turned on a Knut and charged again.   His left forepaw reached out and slapped Neenie, it should have sent her reeling, knocked almost senseless —

Except that she must have seen it coming, as she jumped towards it, and latched on with all eighteen claws and her teeth, digging in.   Wolf howled and shook his paw frantically, trying to dislodge her, until he realized he had an opportunity here — if I step on her, I’ll squash her, drive her breath out, break things — she can’t possibly keep fighting, I’m eight times her size —

He made to stamp his paw down onto the earth, but somehow Neenie recognized the movement and swarmed farther up his leg, meaning that his torn and bleeding paw struck the ground with more than usual force.   Wolf yelped, and his left front leg buckled, dropping him on his face.  

Faster than thought Neenie was on him, fastened to his throat, teeth and claws digging in just deeply enough to let him know where they were, hissing every time she exhaled.  

Wolf whined and let himself slump in defeat.  

Shit.   Double shit.   How could I lose?  

Neenie backed away and Hermione stood up, breathing fast and looking down at him.   "Now," she said deliberately.   "Am I alpha because you let me be, or am I alpha because I deserve to be?"

Harry changed back, but didn’t bother standing up.   "You deserve it," he admitted.   "It was fair.   You beat me."

And if I can’t even beat my own sister, how well will I do against Death Eaters?

Hermione sat down, cross-legged.   "That was hard," she said, tilting her head to peer into Harry’s face.   "I don’t know if I could do it again."

"I’m sure you could."   Harry rolled over and sat up facing away from Hermione.  

Away from everyone.   Everyone had to see me make an idiot of myself.

Well, not quite everyone.   But I know everyone will hear about it.  

"Harry," Hermione said quietly behind him.

"What?" Harry spun back, suddenly furious.   "You want me to surrender?   Fine.   Here."   He tipped his head back and gritted his teeth.  

And the worst part is, she’ll probably do a better job as alpha than I do...

Two cool fingers touched Harry’s throat, then withdrew.   "But I don’t want to be the only one in charge," Hermione murmured.   "I just want my fair share.   We’re both alphas.   Partners."

Harry lowered his head to look at her.   "Partners?"

Hermione smiled.   "Until you find someone who can do the job better."   She tilted her head back in her turn.

Harry laid his fingers on her throat, feeling her breath move within.   "Or until you do," he said, letting the words speak the apologies he couldn’t voice.  

How many times do I have to learn?   I’m not alpha because God leaned down from heaven and made me that way.   I can lose my place, I will lose it if I do it wrong, and I always need help with it.   And I’m too young for a mate, so Hermione’s my best help right now.

A vague thought teased the corner of his mind.   I wonder how Cho would do as an alpha female...

Rather than pursue that line of thought too far, Harry stood up, walked over to the daggers, and pulled them free of the ground.   He handed Hermione’s back to her, then laid his own on his right palm.   She did the same, and they both placed left hands on top of the bare blades.  

Loyalty, to the Pride and to each other.   Sworn and sealed.  

"Alphas together," Hermione said.  

"Alphas for... well, not forever," Harry returned.

Hermione met his eyes.   "Until it’s time to change."

"Yes.   Until it’s time to change."

They sheathed their daggers together, then turned back to the rest of their Pack.   "So," said Harry.   "Any tips?"

"Know where your opponent is at all times," Moony said immediately.

"And don’t bother with finesse if you’re fighting something little and fast," Draco added from above.   "Just kill it."

"I’ll keep that in mind if I’m ever fighting you," Harry shot back.

"Hermione, you’ll need to practice some moves to guard against being pulled down," said Letha.   "That would be a very effective disable for your opponent to use, though in a real fight I’m sure you’d change and land on your feet..."

xXxXx

Sirius Black lay on a beautifully kept lawn and stared at the stars.  

Half my family up there, he thought idly.   Not all out tonight, but they’re there.  

A light footstep alerted him that he was no longer alone.   He sat up, then hastily stood.   "Mam’selle Gamp," he said, bowing slightly.

"M’sieur Black."   Elladora Gamp’s curtsey was just as shallow.   "Could you not sleep?"

"Not well.   I find it unseasonably warm."

"And thus you come outdoors, where the heat is unmitigated, rather than remaining within, where our host’s Climate Charms regulate the temperature."

Is she laughing at me?   I think she’s laughing at me.   "I find the open air stimulating," Sirius said.   "And walls often confining."

Elladora seated herself beside him, but her voice lost none of its slightly poisonous edge.   "And what of the company?   Do you find that alternately confining and stimulating as well?"

Yes.   And "stimulating" not always in a good way...  "I have grown unused to such gatherings as I now attend," Sirius said cautiously.   "If I have acted rudely, I humbly beg your pardon."

Elladora sniffed.   "Fine words," she said coolly.   "Fine words, from one who has betrayed his people over and over.   Why do they all accept you now, when you spurned them and turned from them for so long?   Why have you been welcomed back?   Do you know that, M’sieur Black?"

"I take it you do not credit it to my charming personality and dashing good looks."

"No."   Another sniff, but this one, to Sirius’ surprise, had a different quality.  

Is she crying?

"No, your looks, your personality have nothing to do with that," Elladora went on.   "Nothing to do with Grandmother and the others, why they have allowed you to return.   But... to some people... they matter a great deal."   Yet another sniff, this one unmistakably watery.  

Oh no.   Sirius felt sure that neither of the techniques he usually used to comfort crying women would be looked upon favorably by Elladora.   Not that I’d want to use the one for her that I use for Letha.   And I just know she’d take the one I use for Danger all wrong...

"So why have your grandmother, and the other pillars of pureblood society, allowed me to return?" he asked, opting for the safe route and merely conjuring Elladora a handkerchief.

"Because."   Sirius winced at one of the more unromantic sounds related to crying.   "Because they hope to perpetuate themselves a little farther.   One more generation.   Perhaps two.   It’s all they can hope for, and they know it, but they want those generations, so much..."

"And they hope that because I seem to want to come back," Sirius said slowly, "I’d be willing to join their little breeding program."

Elladora dabbed at her eyes.   "Yes.   And..."   Another, rather prolonged, sniffle.   "Grandmother told me last night that my cause was all but lost.   Give it up! she said.   Let Corona take our blood into the future!   And Corona smiled, and said she would, and..."   She began to sob.

"Elladora," Sirius began uncertainly.

"It isn’t fair!" Elladora cried out.   "She has always been the favorite, the perfect one, everything she’s ever wanted she’s had!   She was the Slytherin, I was the traitor in Ravenclaw... she has the looks, while all I have are brains."   She spat the word.  

"Brains aren’t so bad," said Sirius.   Of course, I’m not speaking from experience, since I’m so often told I don’t have any.  

"Spoken like a man," Elladora said bitterly.   "Tell me..."   Sirius felt his arm clutched.   "Tell me that men sometimes seek a woman with a mind.   Lie to me if you must, but tell me."

"Well, I certainly did."

A long pause.

"Do you mean that?" Elladora breathed.   "Do you really?"

Oh damn.   "Elladora — look, it’s not what you think..."

"You do."  She wasn’t listening.   "You do — you really do — oh, Sirius!"   His fingers were starting to lose sensation from her grip on his arm.   "You really want me!"

"Er... no."   Sirius gently began to loosen her fingers.   "Elladora, look, you’re a good person, smart, strong..."   Very strong.  "But I’m just not interested in you that way."

"Corona," Elladora hissed, clutching him harder.   "I should have known... I’ll fight her, I’ll kill her for this, she can’t have you..."

"No!   Will you listen to me for a second?  Dammit, I’m married!"

This pause went on longer than the last, and was distinctly more awkward.

"Married?" Elladora repeated finally.   "But — but — I’d heard... I’d thought... but you wear no ring, and no contract was ever registered in your name..."

"It was a Muggle wedding," Sirius said, pulling himself free.   "But it’s still valid."

"A Muggle wedding?"   Elladora laughed harshly.   "With a Muggle — yes, I remember now..."

"A witch," Sirius said firmly.   "Muggleborn, but as much a witch as you."

"Ha."   Elladora seemed to be standing up — or crouching down — what was she doing?   "She couldn’t possibly be..."

She threw herself at Sirius and kissed him with all the force of desperation.  

Oh God... can’t... breathe...

Sirius reached around Elladora’s back and tweaked a lock of her hair.   He might have used too much force, but the result was satisfactory.   The woman jerked away from him, an unladylike curse escaping from her lips.  

Sirius stood up quickly.   "Thank you for the offer," he said unsteadily, resisting the urge to wipe his lips.   Wait until she can’t see you.   "But I’m afraid I’m not interested.   Good night, Mam’selle."

He hurried toward the house, pretending he didn’t hear, behind him, disbelieving laughter slipping into tears.  

xXxXx

In the kitchen of Number Seventeen the next morning, Harry donned a voluminous apron.   "Quit laughing," he said irritably as Snow Fox sniggered.   "I’m doing this for you, I’ll have you know."

The fox pointed a paw at himself, the picture of innocence.  

"There’s a nice big pocket, here in the front."   Harry held it open.   "Inside with you."

The fox leaped from the chair where he’d been sitting and disappeared into the pocket just as thumping feet on the stairs announced the arrival of Dudley on the ground floor.  

"Good morning, Dudley," Harry said cheerfully, turning back to the stove.

"Morning, Potter," said Dudley in a suspicious tone.   "What’s with the apron?"

"I don’t want to mess up my clothes.   It’d be a shame to get them all stained with food."

It was, of course, sheer coincidence that Harry’s hand slipped as he was delivering Dudley’s plate to the table.   Or it could have been the small brown paw that poked him hard in the stomach.

Dudley leapt up with a yell, brushing eggs from his shirt.  

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, kneeling down to pick up what could be picked up.   "Sorry, let me get it... don’t do that," he hissed downwards.  

The fox licked his chops and looked hopeful.  

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped several pieces of bacon into the apron pocket.

Dudley changed his clothes after breakfast, and made a mess of his room while doing it, so Harry had that to clean up as well as his usual chores.   Still, the work went faster with someone to talk to, and occasionally be answered by as Snow Fox found a perch where he could share Harry’s pendant chain.  

And wouldn’t Aunt Petunia just have a fit if she saw a filthy animal sitting on her kitchen table and eating lunch off her good china?  

Luna helped me finish the spells, before she went quite so weird, and we took the potion a few days ago.  Snow Fox nibbled a piece of leftover pot roast.   She’s much quicker at doing the change than I am, though.   Lucky I don’t have to change while I’m here.

"Yeah, lucky."   Harry mashed peas with his fork.   "How has she been weird?   I know she’s got her Seeing back, but I never thought she was a Seer like Trelawney."

Well, she’s Seen like that occasionally, but never this way, like she can’t stop it.   Danger said bottling her power up for a year made it go ways it shouldn’t.   We’ll probably find out more at the birthday party.   An image accompanying the words made the reference clear.

Harry pushed his plate away and let his elbows rest on the table.   "Do you ever feel like we’re in too deep?" he asked.

Constantly.  

"No, I’m — I mean it.   We can do loads of weird stuff, we know people and talk to people who’ve been dead for a thousand years... maybe this isn’t the way things were supposed to happen.   Maybe we were just supposed to fight the war without all this."

Snow Fox shrugged one shoulder.   Maybe.   But think about it this way, Harry.   If the weird stuff saves somebody’s life, somebody who would have died otherwise...

"Well, that wouldn’t be so bad."

The fox’s head tilted to one side.   Second year?   You, Quidditch, fall, Meghan?

"What is this, speak in only one word day?   Yes, I remember."

What about first year, when we knew Hermione was in trouble with the troll?   Or when the Pack-parents showed up just in time to save us in the Forest?   Or second year again, when Neville shielded us to keep Norbert a secret?   And when you and Ginny beat Riddle’s diary with your dagger and speaking Parseltongue?   Do I really have to go on?

Harry sighed.   "No.   You’re right."   He pulled his plate closer to him again and doodled in the mashed peas with a fingertip.   "I suppose what matters is that we got through all of that, not that we did loads of weird stuff to get through it."

In other words, it is not our abilities that make us who we are, but our choices.  

"All right, that’s it."   Harry grabbed Snow Fox by the scruff of the neck.   "I’ll take that from Dumbledore, I’ll take that from Moony, but I bloody well won’t take it from you."

Ow!   That hurts!  

"Not nearly as much as this will."   Harry dumped his brother into the sink and turned on the cold water, full force.

Gackblthtatpht

Harry reclaimed his chain and watched the fox flounder under the stream.   "No more than you deserve," he said aloud.   "Besides, you stink."

Snow Fox located the faucet and pawed it off, then leapt onto the counter and posed.   Harry realized his danger just in time and dropped to the floor as the fox shook hard.

And now I have to clean in here again.   I’m just full of brains, aren’t I?

"That wasn’t very nice," said Letha from the other side of the room.   "Either of you."

Snow Fox yipped happily and leapt from the counter to the table, which he pattered across, leaving small wet footprints behind.   Letha stroked him with one hand, then dried it on her cloak.  

"You and I, sir, are going to the end of the street," she said levelly.   "You will transform back into a human, you will return here with me, and you and Harry will clean this kitchen together.   Understood?"

Harry grinned and came around the table.   "I knew there was a reason I liked you best, Letha," he said.  

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Letha said, hugging him with her free arm.   "And no, it’s no use whining about it," she said to Snow Fox, who had rolled onto his back and was doing exactly that, looking up at her pitifully.   "You’d best get used to it, in fact.   Our new Headquarters is quite dirty, and every spare pair of hands will be needed to help clean it out."

"You’ve been there too," said Harry interestedly.   "What’s it like?"

Letha shook her head.   "I can’t tell you much, Harry, not without breaking secrecy, and what I can tell you I’d better tell you after I get back with Draco.   Wait here, we won’t be long."

Snow Fox grumbled under his breath, but sprang into Letha’s arms and let himself be carried out the front door.

xXxXx

An old house, abandoned or as good as, but it belongs to someone in the Order.   Harry waved to Letha and Draco, his mind busily working over the problem of Headquarters.   And somewhere I’ve been — she didn’t say as much, but she hinted at it.  

I suppose it could be Malfoy Manor...

Harry had to laugh.   Wouldn’t that be funny?   A place that was probably a headquarters for one side during the last war, turning into headquarters for the other side during this one...

But no.   It’s too big, too obvious, too easy to find.   It’d have to be something else.   Somewhere else.  

Deep in the back of his mind, he had a suspicion, but he was content to let it stay there for the moment.

It won’t matter until I’m there.   He took the stairs two at a time, headed for his bedroom.   And when I’m there, it’ll be safe for me to know.

Thinking of safety brought him back to his conversation with Moony the day before.   He’d asked Letha about it while Draco finished the kitchen, "since you’re a Healer for real now," and after enduring a mild shaking for cheek, had listened to what she had to say.

xXxXx

"I want you to understand, Harry, that Remus would never deliberately mislead you," Letha began, her hands still in her lap.   "But part of him wants this link between you very much indeed, and I think he’s listening to that part too much to give you a truly fair look at your options."

Harry nodded. "He was acting awfully weird about it," he said.  

"I suspect he’s trying to reconcile the facts about the case and what he feels about it.   Shall I see if I can do a better job of laying out the facts, since I have a bit more distance?"

Harry assumed a listening attitude.

"If you blood-bonded to Remus, with the form of the ritual that would make you the equivalent of father and son, you would be taking his blood into your body, which means you would almost certainly become a carrier for lycanthropy," Letha began.   "And as we’ve already established, that manifests itself as the disease lupus.   What did Remus tell you about it?"

"He said it probably wouldn’t be anything worse than a nuisance."

"And properly controlled, it likely wouldn’t be.   But the trick is finding out what properly controls it.   The truth is, Harry, we don’t have any previous information on this.   We know the symptoms of lupus, and there are certainly potions and spells to treat those symptoms, but how strong would you need them?   In what proportions to each other?   Would any of them have bad reactions to one another, or would you have bad reactions to them?"   Letha shrugged.   "You see what I deal with every day."

"How bad would I be, without potions?" Harry asked.   "Moony said I wouldn’t be as bad as Danger, and I wouldn’t have the bit about dying if I’m away for three days."

"No, you certainly wouldn’t have that."   Letha laughed.   "As far as I’ve been able to tell — but don’t tell Remus and Danger I’ve been watching them — the escalation of symptoms they both went through is due not to any normal manifestation of lupus or lycanthropy, but to the soul-bond between them."

"It holds the diseases back, until Moony and Danger are apart," Harry said.   "Almost like Luna’s power.   Because she held it back and didn’t use it, now it’s stronger than it was, and hurting her."

"Yes, very like that.   If I had to guess, I would think that your symptoms would normally be no worse than Danger’s around the first day that Remus was gone.   Pain and swelling in your joints, a possibility of fever, maybe some tingling or numbness in your hands and feet.   But still, that’s a significant amount to be carrying around with you all the time.   And lupus flares up sometimes, gets much worse all of a sudden.   Stress seems to bring it on."

"So I’d be studying for a test, or getting ready for a Quidditch match, and all of a sudden I’d be sick," said Harry.   "Or sicker."

"Yes."   Letha sighed.   "Harry, I don’t want to see you ill," she said softly.   "I always used to hate it, even when you’d get a cough or a cold, even when I knew a potion would make it better.   And no potion can make this better.   If you do this, you’ll have lupus for good."

"I could get the symptoms treated," Harry argued.

"Yes, but it will take time, possibly weeks, maybe even months, to find the right treatments.   And even once we’d found them, you’d have to take them every day.   No skipping, no missing, unless you want a bad flare-up.   What’s more, this would be a weakness that could be exploited.   What if a Death Eater learned about it, and found a spell to break the treatments?"

"You don’t want me to do this, do you?" Harry challenged.   "You think it’s a bad idea."

Letha lifted her hands helplessly.   "What can I say to the truth?"

"How about looking at the other side of it?   If I did this, Voldemort couldn’t get into my head."   Harry frowned a little.   "How would that work, anyway?"

"Danger researched this, not me," said Letha, "but she told me about it.   Let me see if I can remember... the idea behind it is twofold.   First, the bond you have with Voldemort is dependent on blood.   If your blood changes, his link to you will be weakened.   Second, this new bond with Remus would be very like what you have with Voldemort, except that it would be formed with the full consent of both parties, and that it would hold love."

"And he doesn’t like love."

Letha chuckled.   "Judging by his reaction to touching you in your first year, I would say he can’t handle it at all."   Her hand rested on Harry’s for a moment.   "Because of that consent and that love, the new bond would be stronger than the old, more potent.   It would... the best word I can think of is outshine the other bond.   It’s as if that bond is a thing of darkness, and the brighter a light you shine on it, the weaker it becomes."

"This would make a very bright light, wouldn’t it?"

"Yes.   A very bright light indeed."   Letha squeezed Harry’s hand lightly.   "So those are the facts.   Is there anything you want to ask?"

There were a lot of things, but most of them Harry thought he could probably work out for himself.   He chose something he couldn’t.   "Is there a time limit to this?   Do I have to do it now, or within a month, or within a year, to make sure it works?"

"No.   It might have been marginally easier to block your bond with Voldemort before it was fully formed, but I think it’s too late for that.   So no, no time limit.   Think about it all you want —and please, Harry, do think about it.   It’s a very big decision."

Harry nodded.   "I don’t want to sound rude," he said hesitantly, "but isn’t there anyone else I could do this with?   I know I shouldn’t with Padfoot, because then Voldemort might be able to get at Meghan — but couldn’t he get at Danger just as easily, if I did it with Moony?"

Letha shook her head.   "There’s no blood between those two," she said.   "They are bonded, but it’s a love-bond.   I don’t think Voldemort could use that without doing himself serious damage."

"Okay.   But what I asked — maybe, is there someone else?"

"I asked the same thing, when I realized what this would mean," Letha said.   "The only person we could come up with was Albus himself, and he vetoed it when we brought it up.   He thanked us for the idea, but said that he’s old and feeble..."

Harry snorted.

"Agreed.   But he also has a brother, and possibly other relatives."

"Like he couldn’t protect them," Harry said.   "He’d know how to do it if anyone would."

"Quite true."   Letha’s eyebrows lowered.   "Now that I think of it, he never did give us a truly solid reason why he wouldn’t be a good choice.   But he seemed very fond of the idea of you and Remus bonding."

"Did he say why?" Harry asked, then raised a hand to forestall an answer.   "Never mind, I know he didn’t.   He never does."

"No, he never does," Letha agreed.   "But by the same token, he’s very often right."

Harry slumped in his chair. "I wish I had some answers," he grumbled.   "All I ever get is more questions."

"Welcome to real life," Letha said lightly.   "Home of the unanswered question, the unsolvable puzzle, and the unopenable lock."   Her lips quirked.   "There is one other adult male member of the Order without relatives, you know.   And he might be willing to do this, though I wouldn’t swear to it."

"Who?"

"Severus."

Harry bolted upright in his chair.   "Snape? You want me to — to — ew!   No!"

"Just checking," said Letha, her smile now open.   "Making sure you’re still sane, after all the gobbledygook I’ve poured into your head."

"It is not.   Even if I think I forgot half of it already."

"Oh, is that how you manage to achieve the grades you do?"

"Hey, I’m proud of my grades."

"Yes, well, we’ll see how proud you are of your O.W.L. results.   You’re getting your summer work done, I hope."

xXxXx

The conversation from there had taken a more motherly turn, and when Draco joined them it had become just another Pack-talk, like so many others Harry could remember.   It had lasted nearly two hours, until someone looked at the clock and discovered the Dursleys were due back any minute, and Harry had quickly hugged Letha goodbye and shaken Draco’s hand in the pattern they’d invented when they were small...

Standing up, he crossed his room and dug through his trunk until he found what he was looking for.   Captured forever within their frame, the Pack smiled and waved at him.  

"I think I’m jealous," Harry muttered to his photographic self.   "At least you get to stay with them."

"Who?"

Harry didn’t jump as high as he might have, since his nose had warned him a split second ahead of the voice that someone was at his door.   However, he did jump, and came down facing the opposite way.   "Aunt Petunia," he acknowledged, forcing his breathing back to a more usual pattern.  

"May I... come in?" the woman asked, peering around the door.  

"Um, yes.   Sure.   Come on in."   Harry whisked a random sock off the seat of the desk chair and pulled it out for her.   "Sit down."   He set the picture carefully on the nightstand, facing away from her.  

Aunt Petunia’s eyes flicked over it, but she declined comment.   "Someone was here," she said.   "From your... family."

"Yes," Harry said, sitting down on the bed.   "Most of the day."

"I can always tell, you know.   Not by the house, you keep that clean, but by the way you act."   Aunt Petunia’s eyes were boring into him.   "You’re happy when they’ve been here.   You smile and hum and do anything we ask without even looking like you want to complain."

Harry shrugged.   "I like seeing my family."

"Who are they?" Aunt Petunia asked bluntly.   "Who was it that took you away from us, all those years ago?   I know there are other children involved, Dudley’s mentioned a brother and at least one sister, possibly two..."

"One brother, two sisters," Harry said, deciding to keep things factual.   "One of the girls is younger by about three years, the others are my age.   We’re not actually related, or not very closely, but we all grew up together."

"And your parents?   The man I saw leaving here yesterday..."

"Yes."

"I’ve seen him somewhere before, I’m sure of it, but I can’t place it," Aunt Petunia said in frustration.   "Somewhere with you..."

Harry recognized the scent starting to pervade the room as understanding.   She’ll figure it out eventually.   Might as well be now.   "Here," he said, picking up the photograph and offering it to her.   "This might help."

Aunt Petunia accepted the frame cautiously.  

"It moves," Harry added quickly.   "Not the frame, but the people in the picture.   They move around."

Aunt Petunia looked skeptically at him, but turned the frame so that she could see, and stared.   "So they do," she said absently.   "So..."

The understanding smell suddenly increased by a factor of a thousand, and a rank odor Harry didn’t like at all joined it.   His aunt’s face distorted.  "Granger," she hissed.

"Um... yeah."   Harry edged slightly farther from her.  

Aunt Petunia stared at the photograph for another moment, then abruptly thrust it back to Harry.   "If I didn’t know she was out of my reach, I’d have her prosecuted," she said.   "Breaking and entering, theft, kidnapping..."

"You didn’t want me," Harry said, anger overcoming reticence.   "You wanted to forget about me.   She just made that possible.   She didn’t touch anything in your house except me and what was around me, and she didn’t take anything away except me.   Nothing."   A thread of pride invaded his manner.   "Besides, she didn’t break anything.   She had a key.   You gave her one."

Aunt Petunia was on her feet.   "Enough," she said sharply.   "That’s enough.   No more."   She started for the door, then, almost there, stopped.  

"Did you need something else?" Harry asked, not certain even in his own mind if he meant it or was being sarcastic.

"Were you... happy?"   He could barely hear his aunt’s voice.   "With her.   Were you?   Are you?"

Harry shoved his sarcasm to the back of his mind.   You’ve done enough damage for one day, thank you.   Just answer the question, Harry, answer the question...

"Yes."

Aunt Petunia nodded once, then she was gone.   Harry lay back on his bed and sighed.

Well, there’s that secret out.

He inhaled deeply, and the different scents his aunt had left behind drifted over to him.   Anger, of course, and resentment... a thread of hatred, a shred of envy... and hiding in the mix, almost impossible to discern...

Harry sat up to get a better scent.   No way.   I have to be making it up.

But his second and third samples of the air told him only what the first had.   Somewhere deep within her, Petunia Dursley had some tiny vestige of guilt for what she’d done, and an even tinier scrap of gladness that Harry had known a happier life after leaving her house.  

"And the verdict is..." Harry said aloud.   "The subject is human, and therefore more complicated than anyone has a real right to be."

Besides, he didn’t have to like her.   He just had to put up with her for two more weeks.  

Imagine what she’d have said if I’d told her about the Curse...

xXxXx

Far away, Ginny Weasley sang quietly in time with the rhythmic thumping as she wedged a lump of clay on the kitchen table of the Marauders’ Den.   The song spoke of a maiden who lived alone on the seashore and of the sea-captain who had captured her to bring her to his ship, and how the maiden again won her freedom.  

"And that’s forty," she said aloud, rolling the clay into a rough ball.   "That should be enough."   Wedging made sure the clay had no air pockets in it, since air pockets would explode when the clay was fired.   Ginny wondered if anyone had ever experimented with small air pockets, sealed with only the lightest possible layer of clay, which were meant to explode...

Never mind.   I can get into experimentation after I try some basic things.  

Her father had suggested modeling when Ginny had told him how frustrated she felt, trapped in the Den.   "Everyone else has something to stay busy," she’d said.   "We never see Luna, so I can’t talk to her.   The twins are always in the basement with whatever they’re making, Ron plays with his models all the time, Draco has his music, Neville and Meghan have the garden... maybe Hermione can read all day, but I can’t.   I have to have something to do!"

The clay had arrived the next day.   Throwing it repeatedly against the table was remarkably stress-relieving, and she had fun seeing how close she could come to the shapes she saw around her.   But today, she wanted to try something different.

She started with a broad base.   I’d like to think I’m not easy to upset.   Get mad, yes, I do that, but I don’t want to be a damsel in distress who can’t take care of herself.   She fingered her wand.   Of course, as long as I keep outscoring half the Pride on the spell-throwing tests, I don’t think I’ll fall into that category.  

The base took an ovoid shape under her hands.   Not round, but not square or triangular with hard corners.   I try not to catch people wrong, or ram into them and hurt them, but I’m not perfect.  

From that broad base, the sculpture tapered upwards, growing thinner.   I have weak spots.   Like my temper.   When I get mad, I say things I don’t mean.   And I can go too far — even when I’m not mad, I sometimes have trouble figuring out when to stop teasing, or talking.  

Ginny closed her eyes, sighing as the clay succumbed to her hands.   Above the thin part, she began to sculpt pleasing curves and twists, ridges and valleys, where fingers or eyes might trace out pictures.   Music, stories, acting, cooking, hunting, Quidditch, and now sculpting.   Charms and Care of Magical Creatures.   Mum and Dad, and all my crazy brothers from Bill to Ron... Neville, Meghan, Luna, Hermione, Draco...

Her fingers trailed off.   She opened her eyes.   The clay figure stood nearly a foot tall, adorned everywhere with sculpted patterns.   Everywhere, except in one place.   One area, about as big as her palm, was bare, plain clay.  

She pressed her palm to it, and knew its name.   Long-ago advice given by Hermione drifted back to her.  

"Just be yourself."

She looked over her sculpture, and smiled.   I don’t think I’ll have too much trouble.  

Carefully, she groomed the area into tiny spikes with rounded tips.  

"Hey, Gin-Gin," said Fred, coming up from the basement.   "You’ve been busy."

"That looks neat," said George, on his twin’s heels.   "What’s it supposed to be?"

Ginny smiled.  

"It’s me," she said.  

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Author Notes:

Well, that didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would.   Computer troubles in the middle of it, but I think I’ve got them licked now.   Go me!

Not much to say down here, for a change — the group’s been so active that I think I’ve said it all there — so I’ll just leave my usual plea for reviews, my hopes that everyone had a good Labor Day, and my wishes for a good week for yinz!

Oh, that’s right — Draco and Luna’s talk, next chapter.   Sorry.