Facing Danger
Chapter 30: Unfelt and Unseen (Arc 6)
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
BYOT.
"Here, take this, quick!" Ginny dashed up to Ron and stuffed a red, dripping object into his hand. "Thanks I love you bye!"
"What—" Ron started to say, but Ginny was already gone, up the stairs to the Den’s first floor. He regarded the lump of raw steak in his hand. "Okay..."
He looked up again just in time to yell in shock as Wolf slammed into him, knocking him flat. Snow Fox and Neenie landed on top of them, the latter transforming just before she landed into a hysterically laughing Hermione. Snow Fox yelped, Wolf whined and Ron gave a strangled grunt, the air driven out of his lungs by her impact.
"Oh, I’m so sorry!" Hermione rolled off them quickly, still half-laughing. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"
Snow Fox slid to the floor, looking rather stunned, and shifted into a cross-eyed Draco. "Ow," he wheezed, one hand on his midsection. "Nine pound fox... not nine pound you..."
Hermione drew herself up. "Are you calling me fat?"
"Do you want me to be?"
Wolf rolled off to Ron’s other side and came up as Harry. "Sorry about that," he said, shaking his hair back and adjusting his glasses, which were hanging by one earpiece. "You all right?"
"Think so." Ron got his breath back and took a quick mental inventory. "Yeah. What was that?"
"We were playing around in the kitchen. Danger was cutting bits of steak to toss us, and then Ginny grabbed the whole piece and ran off with it." Harry glanced at the now battered lump of meat in Ron’s hand. "You going to eat that?"
"Not unless it’s cooked, or in much smaller pieces." Ron rubbed at a sore spot on his ribcage with his free hand. "And I want all Ginny’s share."
"Hmph," said Ginny from the stairs. "Just because none of you bother to look where you’re going, or see what’s coming at you..."
"You have a point," Harry said, giving Ron a hand up. "We’d better learn to pay more attention to what’s around us. But you still don’t get any more."
Ginny stuck her nose in the air. "I’m going back upstairs," she informed everyone. "To listen to Mr. Moony and Mr. Padfoot tell each other lies about what you were almost named, Harry."
"Are you sure they’re lies?" Harry said, frowning.
"I’m telling you, Prongs, unisex is the way to go!" Ginny produced a creditable replica of Padfoot’s voice, though it was an octave or so high. "That way you won’t have to worry about boy or girl! How d’you like Elvendork?"
"Actually, I think that one might be true," Harry said after a moment. "As little as I like to admit it."
Ginny shook her head. "Your family is very, very odd."
Harry chuckled. "Saves money on entertainment. We can just watch each other. Coming, all?"
xXxXx
Corona stared out the window of the Marauders’ Den at the falling snow and the leafless trees beyond. She had come at Sirius’ invitation for lunch and lingered afterward, drawn by the feeling of family the Pack seemed to exude, the feeling she was beginning to wish she could find for herself.
I know why he had to go. I know what he is doing, and how important it is to girls who are where I was only a few short years ago. If I were still with my sister and my grandmother, I might even be on the list myself.
But knowledge affects the heart little if at all.
"Knut fer yer thoughts," rumbled a deep voice from behind her.
Corona gasped and whirled. "Hagrid! How in the world can you move so quietly?"
Hagrid chuckled. "It’s a gift. Father Christmas brought it fer me when I was jus’ a little tyke."
Corona found herself smiling in response. "It seems like the sort of gift you would ask for."
"Been a grea’ help ter me, one time an’ another." Hagrid sat down on the floor, putting his head more or less level with Corona’s as she leaned on the windowsill. "Yeh look troubled," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Thinkin’ abou’ him, are yeh?"
Corona nodded reluctantly. "It seems so unfair that he should have to be away for our first Christmas," she said. "And this before I can even be sure that there is a ‘we’ for there to be an ‘our’ about. I like him very well, and I think he likes me, but..."
"Yer not sure." Hagrid sighed deeply. "Tell the truth, Corona, I don’ think anyone’s ever sure. Not if yeh mean sure like two an’ two make four, or Scourgify means clean. It’s th’world’s bigges’ gamble, that. Tossin’ yer heart onter the duelin’ grounds as stakes, hopin’ yeh win it back again, or another in its place... but yeh can’ win unless yeh try. An’ what’s a life ‘thout love?"
"The life I had," Corona murmured, thinking back on days spent in wary watchfulness for tricks played by those who should have been trusted, nights lying wakeful and lonely wishing for a heartening whisper in the dark. "The only life most of my friends ever knew."
"An’ were yeh happy?" Hagrid asked simply. "Any of yeh?"
"If you had asked me then, I would have said yes. I was happy. But..." Corona paused as gleeful shouts rose from somewhere beyond the door. "I think I was only content. No, not even that... I was complacent. I did not question my life, because I knew of no other way that lives could be. But as I grew older, as I read more and learned more from my half-blood and Muggle-born peers, I began to question. I began to wonder. And then I was not happy, and I knew I was not happy."
"Have yeh been happy? These pas’ months, workin’ with the Order, seein’ him when yeh can, livin’ fer yerself?"
Corona drew a long breath. "Yes," she said, and knew as she said it that it was true. "Yes. I have been happy."
"Well then." Hagrid patted her shoulder, nearly knocking her off her feet. "I think that’s yer answer righ’ there. Now, if you’ll excuse me..." He turned his head towards the shouts from the other room, which were becoming less gleeful and more angry by the moment. "I believe there’s somewhere’s I have ter be."
Corona nodded. "Of course."
Hagrid got to his feet, ducked under the lintel of the door, and disappeared around the corner, his voice booming ahead of him. "All righ’, break it up... no sense fightin’ over a friendly game o’ Wizard’s Monopoly..."
Corona turned back to the view outside the window. It seemed somehow more peaceful than it had a moment before.
Perhaps it is because there is peace within my heart.
Or at the least, more peace than there was a few moments ago.
Deciding that you were going to declare your feelings to the man you cared for was nervewracking in its own way.
Still, having decided means I no longer must suffer two sets of terrors at the same moment...
From somewhere within the house, a bell shrilled.
xXxXx
He was fading fast. The wounds he’d thought were healed enough had broken open again, rendering him weaker every second from loss of blood, giving his pursuers a clear scent to track. He had no idea if the spell he’d thrown so desperately a few moments before had done its job, and he might not live long enough to find out.
Not like this. Not so close. Not when I know almost everything—I even know that there are only two pieces I do not know—
Darkness nibbled at the edges of his vision, numbness and pain warred for control of his limbs. The branch to which he clung wobbled under his hand. He heard harsh breathing and could not tell if it was his own or another’s.
Not like this—please, not like this—someone, help me—
xXxXx
Draco, squirming in Hagrid’s grasp to try to reach Ron, froze at the sound of the bell. Harry’s and Hermione’s heads came up, and Meghan squeaked.
"What’s that?" Hagrid demanded, letting Draco and Ron fall to the floor absently.
"It’s the wards," Hermione answered, starting to stand up. "Something’s breached them..."
"Down," Hagrid snapped, pointing to the floor. "All o’yeh, down, now!"
"No problem," muttered Ron, rubbing the hip which had impacted with the floor. Hermione nudged him in the shin with her toe, and he shut up.
Draco rolled over onto his belly and scooted across the floor until he was next to Luna. She had her face covered with her hands. "What’s wrong?" he asked, touching her arm.
"I’m trying to See what it is," Luna answered muffledly. "But something’s blocking me. It’s... it’s the wards." She spread her fingers enough to peer at him through them. "The wards are still up. Still strong. Whatever set off the alarm, it didn’t knock the wards down, it wasn’t strong enough..."
"It was a spell," Padfoot said from the door, his wand out in his hand. "Someone shot a spell at them. A nasty one, one of the Unforgiveables if I’m reading it right, but it still doesn’t make sense. Luna, Fox, come here."
The Pride squirmed out of the way as Draco and Luna crawled hurriedly to the door. Padfoot crouched down to meet them. "There’re blood components in the wards," he said, holding out his hands to them. "Our blood. See if you can Look through when you’re touching us. Hagrid, keep us covered."
Draco twisted to see Hagrid nodding grimly, his pink umbrella in his hand. Where’d that come from? Maybe Harry or Hermione Summoned it for him...
Luna’s hand in his reminded him of what they were doing, and he rolled back onto his stomach and took the hand of Padfoot’s not already holding Luna’s. I love you, he signed silently to Luna, pressing his index, little, and ring fingers against the back of her hand in that order.
Luna squeezed his hand to acknowledge the message, then closed her eyes. Draco felt her magic at the edge of his own and looked over Padfoot’s shoulder to try to calm himself enough for Luna to find what she needed.
The sight of Letha, kneeling beside the glass door in the kitchen, her wand steady in her hand and her eyes scanning back and forth for possible threat, slowed his heart all by itself. Danger’s voice from the den room, along with the slight green glare on the bit of wall he could see, added to his sense of relief. She must have her Zippophone out, she’s probably talking to Headquarters right now—there’ll be reinforcements here in two minutes, we can hold out that long—
"Help him!" Luna shrieked, her eyes shooting open. "They’re trying to kill him, he can’t last much longer, hurry, help him!" She wrenched her hand from Draco’s and pointed out the back door. "Hurry! That way!"
Padfoot shot to his feet. "Moony, Letha, let’s go!" he shouted. "Out the back, come on!"
"We can help—" Harry started to get up, his hand going towards his wand pocket.
"Stay," Padfoot snapped, his tone making it non-negotiable.
Harry slumped back where he had been. "Stupid Pack instincts," he grumbled under his breath.
Padfoot spun in place and vanished with a crack. A second, fainter crack outside marked his Apparation point. Letha Disapparated and re-Apparated outside as well, Moony only a second behind her. The three adults raced for the boundary of the Pack’s land, where the wards were laid.
"Who was it, Luna?" Ginny asked, her hand white-knuckled around Harry’s.
"I’m not sure." Luna rubbed at one side of her face, her expression fading from panic through worry back into her usual look of interested surprise. "He’d fallen down and his hands were over his face. But there were three men attacking him, and he’d already bled a lot. I hope they’re in time. He cast that spell, you know."
Draco, practiced in weathering Luna’s quick changes of topic, followed this with little trouble. "The one that set the wards off? Wouldn’t that mean he was an enemy? The wards only respond to unfriendly spells..."
"But what if he was a friend trying to get here?" Luna countered. "What if he needed help?"
"Why not send a Patronus?" Hermione asked. "That would be faster, and it would have been able to tell us who he is and that he needed help."
"Maybe he was too badly hurt," said Neville. "It takes a lot of concentration to cast a Patronus, even just a messenger. Setting off the wards might have been the only way he could think of to get our attention in time."
"We’ll know soon enough," growled Hagrid, his umbrella point never wavering from the door.
The Pride huddled together, hands near wands, and waited.
xXxXx
Aletha forced herself to ignore the wheezing breaths of the injured Death Eaters lying behind her. A member of the Order, a friend, lay critically injured under her hands. Every second could make the difference between life and death.
Peripherally, she was aware of Sirius returning with Corona at his side, of the younger woman dropping to her knees. "No..." she gasped out, her face whiter than the snow as she captured one limp hand and clung to it fiercely. "No, please, you can’t die... please, don’t leave me, not now..."
Aletha wove an element of Corona’s desperation into her spells as she continued to work. You pushed yourself nearly to death to get back here. Whatever you have to tell us must be important. I hope I can keep all your work from being for nothing...
xXxXx
Inside the Den, the Pride picked themselves up off the floor, Danger having sounded the all-clear and explained the situation. Hagrid immediately headed outside to reinforce the temporary perimeter. Meghan darted upstairs, pulling Neville behind her, intent on an unspecified mission, while Hermione started tidying away the Wizard’s Monopoly set. Ron and Ginny excused themselves and Flooed home to reassure Mrs. Weasley they were all right, Ginny letting Ron go first so that she could steal one kiss from Harry without Ron looking stricken.
"If he doesn’t get over us soon, I’m going to start gagging every time he kisses Lavender," she said, scent-touching Harry. "And every time she calls him that stupid pet name."
"‘Won-Won.’" Draco shuddered. "No. Just... no."
"He’s almost there," Luna said comfortingly. "He only needs one more big push and he’ll be over her."
"Wonderful." Ginny grimaced. "You wouldn’t happen to know what kind of big push?"
Luna shook her head. "It’ll happen when it’s supposed to," she said with calm certainty. "You shouldn’t worry, Ginny. We’re all in very good hands." An emotion too fleeting for anyone to identify flickered in her eyes and was gone. "Most of the time."
Draco turned away. Harry looked him up and down out of the corner of one eye, took a cautious sniff (fear-sadness-anger, nothing specific) and decided to let it go this time.
But the next time he starts acting strange, I’m going to find out what’s going on between him and Luna. It’s been long enough. He needs to come clean.
The green flames had barely died down in the fireplace from Ginny’s exit when thumping noises on the stairs announced the descent of Meghan and Neville with the Pack’s camp bed and linens for it. The Pride, thus armed, descended upon the den room, politely evicted Danger, and set about turning it into a temporary hospital ward.
"Mama Letha won’t want to move him any further than she has to," Meghan said importantly, pulling one corner of the fitted sheet over the camp bed’s mattress. "And this is the room we can make the quietest in the whole house. Madam Gamp, I mean Corona, can even stay here with him if she wants to." The lady in question had requested that they use her first name only an hour or two earlier. "So it’s the best place for him to be."
"You did well to think of it, Meghan," Harry said, letting his tone and his use of his sister’s full name shade into a warning. She was allowed to be proud of herself for what really was a good thought, but with Meghan, ‘proud of herself’ turned into ‘full of herself’ quickly.
I’d rather stop it before I have to do something neither of us will like.
"I know," Meghan said, bouncing around the bottom of the bed to pull down the other corner of the fitted sheet. "I know, I know, I know..."
Of course, I might still have to.
Neville coughed once into his hand from where he was setting a quiet spell on the doorway into the living room with Hermione, and Meghan made a tiny noise and was silent.
Or not. I wish I knew how he does that... on second thoughts, scratch that, I don’t want to know. Harry made a face. For exactly the same reason Ron doesn’t want to watch me kissing Ginny. I’m happy for them, I’m glad they understand each other so well, but that’s still my sister we’re talking about...
Thoughts of kissing and Ginny sideslipped into thoughts of Cho. Had she opened the box with the charmed necklace in it? Had she realized the significance of the thirty pieces of silver, the traditional price a traitor was paid? Had the charm worked the way it was supposed to?
Of all the things I could worry about, I don’t think that’s one I need to. Hermione set the charm. Hermione’s charms... well, let’s just say I haven’t seen one fail yet.
So the silver necklace was around Cho’s neck right now, and would stay there, resisting all efforts to remove it by magic or physical force, until the spells on it detected that its wearer was acting to help another without regard to herself. Then and only then would it come off.
But if she starts being selfish again, it’s back on her, and there’s no getting it off this time. It’s there for good. I hope she figures that out in time...
Harry snorted at himself. No amount of fretting on his part was going to make either alternative more or less likely, and Cho was no longer his problem. She was neither Pack, Pride, Order, nor DA, so he had no reason to be concerned about her.
Which doesn’t mean I’ll stop.
A faint noise at the back door drew Harry’s attention. He stepped out of the den room in time to see Padfoot, carrying one end of a stretcher, step inside and shake snow off his hair. The rest of the stretcher followed, with Moony at the other end.
"Why didn’t you just levitate it?" Harry asked curiously, waving his fathers towards the den room.
"One of the curses he was hit with makes him oversensitive to certain kinds of magic," Letha answered, shooing Corona inside before coming in herself. "Not healing spells, that’s too obvious, but other common charms. Levitation is one of them. If they’re used near him, his own magic will react very badly."
"How badly is very badly?" asked Hermione, ducking between Moony and Corona to get out of the den room.
"You wouldn’t sleep tonight if I explained how badly."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh. Fortunately, it has a short lifespan. He should be completely recovered from it within the next twelve hours." Letha shook the excess snow from the hem of her robes. "Until that time, no one is to use magic at this end of the Den."
Harry leaned through the entrance of the den room and urgently waved Draco, Luna, and Meghan out. Neville appeared to have left when Hermione had, though through the opposite entrance. I hope none of the spells we used will set off that curse... it sounds nasty...
"It doesn’t react to residue or existing charms, or to potions," Letha added. "Just to new spells being performed around it. As long as you leave your wands in your pockets, we should be fine."
"Good to know," Harry said. "Anything else we should do? Or shouldn’t?"
"You know the basics." Letha came into the business part of the kitchen and gave him a quick hug. "Watch for ways to help, keep from antagonizing each other. Don’t tease us for information—we will tell you everything we can, you know that, but we have to decide the time ourselves without being rushed."
Harry and Hermione both nodded. Pushing the Pack-parents to explain things was fatal. Waiting patiently, no matter how hard, was always the wisest thing to do.
Of course, since when have I been wise?
Rather than hang around and invite temptation to get the better of him, Harry headed into the music room and picked up the Wizard’s Monopoly box, waving at Hagrid through the back door and receiving a wave in return. He’s probably making sure no one tries to break through the wards before the Pack-parents get a chance to put them back to full strength.
"How about it, Neenie?" he asked his sister, coming back into the kitchen. "Think you can remember who had what?"
"Ron was winning," Hermione said promptly, with only a half-hearted grimace at her nickname. "And Draco was wrong. Ron wasn’t cheating. It’s perfectly legal to have three broomsticks on one property as long as you have two on the others of that color." She giggled. "Draco just doesn’t want to admit he was wrong. Or that Ron was smart enough to put the three broomsticks on the property that has the highest rent on it."
"Ron is smart and Draco doesn’t want to admit he’s wrong?" Harry looked out the window. "Look at that. The sky is falling."
"Not all of it. Just little bits." Hermione rescued the game box as it threatened to fall out from under Harry’s arm. "If we’re going to play, let’s play."
"Fine. Last one to the other room picks last when we split Ron and Ginny’s properties!" Harry took off running.
"Ooooh..." Hermione hissed through her teeth. "May you land on Hogwarts with a broomshed on it, Harry Potter!"
"Land on Hogwarts?" Harry stopped long enough to stick his head back into the kitchen. "That sounds painful. Unless I hit the lake, or the grass. That wouldn’t hurt so much..."
He ducked into the hallway, laughing, just ahead of a tiny silver Snitch.
xXxXx
Brian Li came slowly awake. Pain was his first impression, surprise that he had awakened at all his second.
Either Greyback’s flunkies decided I could give them more sport at another time if they let me live, or...
He hardly dared hope for the other alternative. But he was comfortable and warm, his wounds had been tended, and the only clear scent nearby was not the acrid musk of a feral werewolf but a soft smell of clean spice, a scent he had come to know well over the past months.
And someone is holding my hand.
Cautiously, he opened his eyes.
He lay in a crisp-sheeted camp bed in a clean, white-walled room. Blue curtains hung at both doorways, blocking light and most sound, though now that he was listening he could hear the vague noises of everyday life beyond them. Beside the bed, in a cushioned chair, slept Corona Gamp, her fair hair hanging in limp strands around her worried face. One of her hands clutched his loosely, as if even in her sleep she would not let him go.
Relief overwhelmed him, threatening to sweep him back into a healing darkness, but he resisted. I came this far for a reason. I must deliver my message.
He squeezed Corona’s hand. She roused instantly. "What—I was not—Brian! You’re awake! Lie still, don’t try to move—"
"I will be good," Brian said carefully, surprised and pleased to find speech so easy. He had been sure several of his ribs were broken before he’d lost consciousness, and one of his last clear memories was of a foot descending towards his throat. "But I have information—Corona, what is today? The date?"
"The thirtieth of December. Why?"
Another wave of relief. "Because that means I am in time."
"In time? In time for what?"
"To prevent deaths." Brian closed his eyes as the room seemed to spin for a moment, then opened them again. "I know for a certainty how many attacks are planned, Corona. I know the locations and the targets of all but two. And I overheard rumors about those I do not know. I need to speak with Dumbledore, as soon as possible."
"Which will be tomorrow at the earliest," Corona said firmly. "You were badly injured, Brian. You need to heal. These attacks literally cannot occur until the night of the fifth of January, or am I mistaken?"
"You are correct, but—"
"No buts." Corona gave him the look usually reserved for the use of wives and serious girlfriends. "Aletha claims it is a miracle you made it as far as you did. You nearly died twice, once before we could reach you and once after. I refuse to let you make yourself worse. You will spend the rest of today resting, and speak with the Headmaster tomorrow if you are able. Is that perfectly clear?"
"Perfectly." Brian closed his eyes again to hide his smile, not resisting as the darkness slipped over him once more. He was safe now, from everything except those complications which came with romance.
And when I consider that I thought I would never have that in the first place...
It was a good thought to fall asleep to.
xXxXx
Dumbledore was busy on business of his own on the thirty-first, so it was the first of the year before Brian’s information was passed along. That left four days for the Order to prepare, and they used their time well.
"They’ve pulled everyone into this one," Ron said on the morning of the fifth, swinging by his knees from a branch in the Weasleys’ orchard. "Mum and Dad, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and Tonks, Percy... even the twins, but Mum only agreed to let them go if they promised to stay in the car."
"But this is your dad’s car we’re talking about, right?" asked Draco, hooking his leg over a branch on the next tree over. "The one that flies?"
"He’s only got one."
"I’d be more worried about them than about any of the wizards, if I were a werewolf," said Ginny from where she knelt in the snow, scraping a pile together. "They’ve been experimenting with fireworks these last few weeks and I think they’ve got a couple of basic rockets sorted."
"Werewolves don’t have to worry about wizards," Harry said, tossing and catching a snowball idly. "Not as such. They’re immune to spells."
"Not all spells," Hermione corrected from high above. "Spells that don’t conjure anything or change their surroundings. A Stunner or an Imperius won’t work on a werewolf. But a Binding Spell that conjures ropes, or even an Aguamenti to throw water in its face... as long as you can keep it away from you until the moon sets, you’re safe."
"And we have another trick," Neville added, giving Meghan a leg up into Hermione’s tree. "We eight, I mean, if we were going out. Which we’re not. But your parents are," he said to Harry. "And they have it too. Mum said she and Dad might look into it if they ever get any spare time—since Robards took over the Auror Office full time it’s been crazy for Dad, and Mum’s working like mad to get a real curriculum ready for winter term..."
"Hallelujah," Harry said, catching the snowball on his head as it came down and shaking the snow out of his hair. "Real Defense lessons at last. For everything we can’t learn out of books."
"There are things we can’t learn out of books?" Meghan inquired, brushing snow off the branch she was sitting on. "Does Hermione know that?"
Hermione made a rude noise.
"Actually, I have to take back what I said." Ginny started to squeeze her snow together. "Fred’s been working on the rockets, and George has been helping when he’s not down in the village. Apparently there’s a girl in the paper shop who thinks his card tricks are amazing—‘just like real magic’."
"Does your mum know this yet?" Draco asked. "I remember how she was when she thought there were Muggle kids in her house..."
"She was getting ready for one of her big blow-ups," Ron said, grabbing the branch and flipping himself back upright. "But then she calmed back down for some reason. Told him he was an adult now, he’d have to make his own decision."
"Huh." Harry bent down and brushed a bit of snow out of Ginny’s hair. "That doesn’t sound like her. Is she feeling all right?"
Ron shrugged. "She’s got a lot to worry about. There’s the war, and there’s Fleur..."
"What’s wrong with Fleur?" asked Luna, looking up from the tiny pattern she’d found in the snow.
"Mum doesn’t like her much," Ginny answered. "Thinks she’ll break Bill’s heart. Then there’s Tonks—Mum’s glad she’s finally found out who really killed her mother, but now she keeps saying things about getting back at Fudge..."
"Would that be so bad?" asked Meghan. "He did know about her mum, and he never said anything."
"Her getting back at him would be bad," Harry reminded his little sister. "Because if they caught her, then she’d be in trouble."
"So let’s help her!" Meghan peered down at the rest of the Pride as if this should have been obvious. "We can design a really good prank and help her play it and no one will ever know!"
"We’ll think about it after O.W.L.s are over, Pearl," said Hermione, starting to climb down. "What else, Ron?"
"Let me think. War, Fleur, Tonks... right, Percy. She’s worried about him because Dumbledore thinks Voldemort might be after the Ministry at some point. And us and the twins, because we know Voldemort’ll want Hogwarts."
"You think so?" Draco said, sliding off his branch to hit the ground with a thud. "One of the oldest magical institutions in Britain, with its own fund of magical power which Voldemort can tap into if he has a connection with the school—and I think conquering it would count—do you really think he’s got reason to go after that?"
"Your colors turn all pink and green when you’re sarcastic," Luna remarked, adding a stroke to the pattern with her fingernail.
This ended the conversation, for the simple reason that six of the participants were too busy laughing to talk or breathe and the seventh was chasing the eighth with the intent of kissing her into a similar state of oxygen deprivation.
xXxXx
Hermione sat on her bed and fidgeted, glancing at the clock every few seconds.
I shouldn’t worry so much. All the girls Mr. Li, Brian, found out about are protected, even the ones he only heard whispers about. And the Pack-parents will be fine. Neville said it this morning—werewolves only attack or infect humans. All of them have their Animagus forms, except Moony, and he’s a werewolf already! What can one do to him?
"Except bite and claw and rip and tear," she muttered aloud, "not much."
That’s what I’m most afraid of, I think. She shivered. Seeing one of them, or more than one, come back like Brian. Hurt and bleeding and weak and shaking. I don’t want them to get hurt. I don’t want them to bleed. And most of all I don’t want them to die.
Of course, who ever does?
She shook her head hard. "Enough," she said aloud once more. "Time to go find some fun."
The Pride was all staying at the Den tonight under Hagrid’s watchful eye, since their parents were needed to fill out the Order’s response teams. Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour had politely declined to commit Aurors or MLE personnel to ‘an unsubstantiated rumor by an unstable person’. Danger and Letha had politely declined to give Corona back her wand until she promised not to curse Scrimgeour to the moon and back.
The thought made Hermione smile as she started down the stairs to find the others. But halfway to the den room (Brian had recovered enough to move to his family’s home two days ago), she jumped back as Ginny and Luna shot out of the doorway.
"If you’re going to be idiots, I’m going outside!" Ginny shouted over her shoulder.
"We’re not being idiots!" Ron shouted back. "We just don’t want you around right now! What’s so hard to understand about that?"
"Maybe that I’m good enough to have around when there’s chores to be done, but not when you want to play your stupid game?" Ginny snarled through bared teeth, then marched towards the closet.
Luna stood observing the den room with a faint frown. Hermione approached her carefully. "Starwing, is something wrong?" she asked.
"I don’t know," Luna said slowly. "There’s a haze tonight. It looks like everyone being worried and frightened and wanting only the most familiar things. But I don’t know if it’s all coming from us or not."
"Where else would it come from?"
"I don’t know that either." Luna shivered. "But I know I want to get away from it. It doesn’t like me. It doesn’t like any of us."
"Let’s go outside with Ginny, then. We can get some air, clear our heads, and come back in when we get too cold."
Luna smiled and started towards the closet herself.
Meghan materialized out of nowhere to join the expedition in the way of little sisters everywhere. "Hagrid taught the boys a game with dice," she explained. "They’re betting money and they don’t want me to play because I might lose."
The older girls laughed. "They don’t want you to play because you might win," Ginny corrected. "Don’t worry, we’ll beat them when we get back inside."
The evening was cool and clear, the sun almost touching the horizon in the west. One or two of the brightest stars were beginning to show above. The girls took turns pointing them out, naming them, retelling the stories they knew from Astronomy class. Meghan taught Luna how to turn cartwheels in the snow, Ginny crafted a nose and ears onto the lopsided snowman Harry and Draco had erected the day before, and Hermione looked longingly at the trees down by the road, wishing she dared pass the wards to climb them.
I can get a bit closer at any rate.
She walked down the path, shielding her eyes from the bright redness of the sun to one side. The full moon would rise soon. Moony and Brian would begin their controlled transformations, and the werewolves who were to attack tonight their uncontrolled ones...
Or do they use the Wolfsbane too? It would be an advantage for them, if they were only supposed to bite certain people. An uncontrolled werewolf will just attack anything human it comes across.
She stopped several paces short of the translucent wall that was the Pack’s wards at twilight and gazed up at the sky. "So beautiful," she whispered as another star made its appearance.
Orange light sparked at the corner of her eye, and a slight jolt ran through her frame.
What was that? she wondered distantly, then dismissed it. No matter. What was I thinking? The stars? Beautiful?
The words had no meaning. Beauty was something she had read about in books, studied for a test, not a real concept she could apply to her life.
Should I be worried about this?
Worry was another abstract, far away and inconsequential. She had no ability to feel it, and thus, no need.
That makes sense.
She approved of things making sense, as much as she approved of anything. Approval, even, had distanced itself from her, a thing to be brushed with the fingertips at full arms’ length.
Movement on the road caught her eye. A man was standing there, a man who had not been there a few moments before. His face was scarred as with claws, his hair long and white, and his hand was beckoning her.
I know him. Who is he?
Several thoughts came to mind. All were rejected except the final one: father. Other images were associated with this word—a smiling man from photographs, two from real life—but this one was in front of her now, and wanted her to come to him.
Is there some reason I should not?
There seemed to be several, but all withered under the eyes of her new, logical self. This man, she knew from stories, had sworn on his life to preserve hers, so no harm would come to her in his care. Besides, he was her father, and it was right that a daughter should obey her father.
Hermione took one step forward, then another. A third and a fourth, a tingle like electricity over her skin, and she was past the wards. Her father pointed a wand at her and spoke a single word, and she was immediately filled with purpose and the sure knowledge of what to do next.
She turned back to the yard and waved to her Pridemates, beckoning them towards her.
xXxXx
Hagrid half-watched the boys, jubilant and dour by turns, throwing the dice and shoving money towards one another. Something was niggling at the back of his mind.
The girls.
He frowned. Why should he care about the girls? They were more trouble than they were worth, and he was better off without them hanging about and bothering him and the boys. They’d come inside when they were good and ready.
They’ve been out there quite a while, the tiny voice insisted. And moonrise is soon. Better go check on them. It will only take a moment.
He shrugged. It couldn’t hurt.
"Back in a minute," he said to Harry, who nodded absently in reply, his attention on the dice in Draco’s hand. Huge fur coat on, umbrella in hand, and he was out the front door the way the girls had gone.
No girls were anywhere to be seen. Footprints shone in the last rays of the setting sun, but none led to either side of the house. Instead, four sets of tracks went straight and true down the lane. Hagrid followed, growing more puzzled and worried with every second. Surely, surely, the girls couldn’t have been foolish enough—but how could they have been, the wards were plain to see in this light—
But I don’t see them. I know they’ve got to be here, but I don’t see them—
He took one more step, and the telltale shock spread across his arms and face.
Sure enough, here they are. Some fool went and made them invisible—why, I don’t know—
Three voices shouted two words in unison.
Hagrid had just enough time to realize exactly why, and to curse himself for a fool.
The ground shuddered as he fell.
xXxXx
Twelve dragons, engraved upon golden pendants, flared with greenish light and went out. A chill spread from them outwards to the other pendants in their various sets and to the chains their owners wore about their necks, a chill that refused to lift.
A Pack-friend was dead.