Facing Danger
Chapter 36: Secrets, Songs, and Silly Duels (Arc 6)
By Anne B. Walsh
“...have to tell them sometime!”
Meghan paused in the act of tapping on the door. She couldn’t recall ever seeing Luna truly angry, but the voice coming from inside the room was certainly Luna’s, and equally certainly it was angry.
What are they talking about?
“There just hasn’t been a really good time, you know?” Draco snapped back, his angry tones far more familiar to Meghan’s ears. She’d been on the receiving end of them many times. “And this isn’t so hot either! Hagrid’s just died, Hermione still can’t look at a boy without screaming, and you want me to tell them—that? Talk about trying to grab all the attention for myself!”
“That isn’t what you’d be doing and we both know it, Draco—”
Meghan took advantage of Luna’s pause for breath to knock on the door. “Anyone in there?” she called, breathing hard to make it sound as if she’d just run up and hadn’t had time to listen to anything. “It’s good news! Open up!”
Draco pulled the door open. “Good news?” he said. “Moldywarts dropped dead of a heart attack?”
“I wish. No, but it’s just about as good.” Meghan bounced on her toes. “Hermione’s starting to get better!”
“That is good news,” Luna said, standing up behind Draco, who seemed caught between hope and skepticism. “How do you know?”
Meghan giggled. “Come upstairs and see. It’s cute.”
“Never have a little sister,” Draco remarked over his shoulder to Luna. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Luna slid past Draco into the hallway. “Yours is enough for me.” She hugged Meghan briefly, then set off down the hall for the stairs.
“So what’s happening up there?” Draco asked Meghan, falling in behind Luna.
“I told you, you have to see it!”
“Typical,” Draco muttered, but he didn’t really sound angry this time.
He did earlier, though. And there’s something he hasn’t told us.
Meghan made a mental note to tell Harry what she’d heard. It wasn’t tattling, she rationalized, because Harry was the alpha and he needed to know these things.
Besides, I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t noticed it already.
Her world restored to equilibrium, Meghan danced down the hall to Luna and back again to Draco, humming a tune of her own making.
Hermione’s getting better, Hermione’s getting better...
Neenie awakened slowly, stretching her limbs and tail, yawning in one of those glorious gapes which served both to cow any other upstart felines in the vicinity and to gather the scents about her. Bedroom, human self, cat self, and—
Her hackles half-raised, then lowered again, and she began to purr.
Yes, she soothed her indignant side, yes, it’s a boy. But it’s not just any boy. It’s a boy who cares about me. One who would never, ever hurt me.
She worked her paws back and forth in a tread pattern on her sleeping platform, purring louder. He came to find me when I was in trouble. And then he came again when I was unhappy. He knows how to make me feel better and he always will.
“Ow,” mumbled the platform, shifting under her. “Gerroff.”
Of course, he’s still himself.
I don’t think I’d like him so much if he weren’t.
Neenie stood up and picked her way up Ron’s chest to his face. Lying down with her paws tucked under her, she leaned forward and nuzzled just behind his ear.
“Gah!” Ron’s eyes popped open. “Imup—huh?” He blinked at his unfamiliar surroundings.
Hi. Neenie added a little trill to her purr. Remember me?
“Oh.” Ron focused sleepily on her. “Right. Came up to see you. You don’t hate me.” One of his big hands came up and stroked clumsily down her back, once, twice, three times. Neenie rose to meet it, thrilling in her total lack of fear, and in the quiet and hesitant feelings which were waking in her instead.
“C’n I—” A huge yawn interrupted Ron. “—sleep a bit more?” he finished when he could speak again. “Haven’t been, much, last few nights. And we’re back to school on Monday.”
Neenie nodded and curled back down into a loose ball, finding the curve of Ron’s collarbone and snuggling against it.
Back to school. The thought no longer inspired the absolute terror it had a few hours before, but it was far from the joyous hymn Neenie’s mind usually trumpeted. What will people have heard? What will they know? What will they think, when they see how I’ve changed?
“Night,” Ron muttered, his eyes already shut.
And I’m borrowing trouble again. Neenie replied with a pulsing purr and closed her own eyes. I’ll find out what people think when I see them. Not sooner. And I haven’t been sleeping well either.
I need this.
The rise and fall of Ron’s chest, and her own soft purring in time with it, lulled her to sleep.
Draco sighed, turning away from the door. “I suppose this means we can’t kill him,” he said to Harry.
Harry shook his head. “Not even torture,” he said. “Pity. Moony’s been sharpening up some of Danger’s knitting needles for when Hermione finally got a boyfriend.”
“Yeah. And Padfoot was going to read him some of those sappy stories from that Bowdlerized Beedle the Bard Letha got him for a joke that one Christmas.”
Harry winced. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
“You’re right. Maybe only half of one. But the point’s moot now anyway.” Draco looked over his shoulder at boy and cat. “If that was anybody else, it’d be too sappy for words.”
“But as it is...” Harry came to look as well. “Admit it,” he said softly. “If it had to be someone, you’re glad it was him.”
“Well. Yeah.”
“Ha.” Harry grinned. “After all these years, I’ve finally got you to admit Ron isn’t so bad.”
“I wasn’t finished.” Draco held up a hand. “As I was saying, I’m glad it was him. Because him, I know I can intimidate.”
Harry slumped against the doorframe. “Why do I even bother?” he asked the ceiling.
“The next time one of our children does something in a normal fashion, remind me to make certain they’re not ill,” Molly said to Arthur downstairs.
“Do you disapprove, love?” Arthur was watching Ginny, who had most of the female membership of the Order gathered around her and admiring her ring.
“No, of course not. Not at this point, anyway.”
“At this point?”
Danger coughed discreetly beside them. “I think what she means,” she said when the Weasleys both turned to face her, “is that unless we’re misinterpreting these prophecies entirely, it will have to go much farther than a promise. And soon.”
“As soon as we want the war ended, that is.” Arthur nodded. “I’ve suspected as much for some time.”
“You have?” said both women in chorus.
Arthur chuckled. “It’s simple common sense. You-Know-Who is dedicated to death, hatred, all that Dark foolishness. How else can we oppose him except with life and love? Even before I’d seen your prophecies, Danger, I could see what was happening between Ginny and Harry, and personally I’m delighted. I hadn’t thought to see her married before most of her brothers, but if any of our children will be mature enough at such a young age to handle it well, she will.”
“Not before she’s sixteen,” Molly said, pointing a finger at Danger firmly. “That, I won’t budge on. And if she changes her mind, decides it isn’t for her…”
“Harry would never let her be pushed into anything.” Danger glanced at her Pack-son, currently enduring the congratulations of the Order’s wizard contingent, several of whom had their mostly red heads together over a scroll that looked suspiciously like a plan for a stag night of epic proportions. “He’s still not quite sure that she’s saying yes because she wants to, and not because it will help to end the war.”
“To end the war,” Molly repeated, her eyes on her daughter. “She’s never known war, you realize. Not until last year. Neither had Ron, nor Fred and George. Percy was just old enough towards the end of the first war to know that he should be afraid. But Bill and Charlie understood what war means. What it does to people, to families like ours.”
She closed her eyes tightly, but one tear still escaped. “That’s why I knew I’d never keep them away from the fighting in this war. Why I knew I had to fight it myself. Because I remember the pictures in the newspaper, pictures of children no older than mine, tortured and murdered for the crime of having no magic. So when I consider that all which is being asked of me in return for a chance to end this evil is to see my daughter married younger than I had expected, to a fine young man who puts her wishes ahead of his own… it seems a smaller price to pay than it otherwise might.”
She pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose, then opened her eyes and focused on Danger. “Still. Not before she’s sixteen.”
“I doubt we could get Harry to agree to a date sooner than that in any case.” Danger smiled knowingly. “He remembers the way Meghan used to howl in the night, and he’s hardly eager to be the person who’s expected to get up and take care of the reason for the howling.”
“Will he be?” Arthur asked. “Winky’s elflets are due at the end of the month, and they mature faster than human children. They’d be ready to go out to service in a year and a half to two years. Normally, one belongs to the father’s owners and one to the mother’s, but with Dobby being his own master…”
Danger snickered. “You haven’t seen him around Draco lately, have you?”
“Technically his own master,” Arthur amended. “In any case, he’ll have the choice of where to send one of his children, and I’m sure he’d be only too happy to make sure Harry and Ginny have the help they’ll need. And house-elves do wonders with babies.”
“Things to know for next time,” Danger muttered, pretending to write a note on her hand and making the Weasleys laugh.
“Will there be a next time for you?” asked Molly. “I know how deeply Aletha was hurt by losing Marcus.”
“True, but she’s not one to let pain stop her forever.” Danger looked over at her friend, who was telling the group of witches around Ginny something that made them all laugh and Ginny blush. “Besides, she and Sirius are both young for magical folk. If we all survive the war… yes. I think there will be a next time.”
“Then…” Arthur plucked three flutes of champagne off a platter as Winky carried it past and handed two of them to the women. “Here’s to next time.”
“To next time,” chorused Molly and Danger, as the three glasses clinked together.
The conversation in the witches’ group had somehow migrated to the topic of the full moon just past, and the escapes wide and narrow the various sets of Order members had had from the werewolves they’d gone out to battle. Tonks was telling her and Charlie’s story yet again.
“This girl came out of nowhere, I swear. Jumped onto the second one’s back and started strangling it with what looked like a necklace. It howled something awful—of course, when we got a decent look later, we realized the necklace was silver. Heavy, too, with all those coins strung on it. She must have been to a fancy dress ball lately. In any case, she kept the second one busy until we could get the first one caged, but it got its claws into her leg near the end. She is going to be all right, Letha?” Tonks looked up at the older witch. “I know you saw her.”
“She’ll be fine,” Aletha assured the lime-haired Auror, and the group in general. “The wound was still fresh, and we were able to clean it and heal it as well as werewolf-inflicted wounds ever do heal. She and her parents have been warned about possible side effects, but overall she’s doing very well. But the necklace you mentioned… she had it with her when you brought her in, and something about it caught my attention. It wasn’t just a fancy dress piece.” She turned to look at Ginny. “Was it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Healer,” said Ginny coolly.
“I’m talking about a jinxed necklace.” Aletha folded her arms. “Not a lethal jinx, or even a particularly bad one, but this piece of metal had definitely had magic laid on it. More than that, it was magic done by a person I know. Still have no idea?”
“Why would you think I would?” Ginny asked, putting an arm around Meghan, whose shoulders were starting to shake suspiciously. “I have no reason to jinx Cho Chang’s necklace.”
Aletha raised an eyebrow. “Interesting that you know her name. I never mentioned it.”
“It came to me when Tonks mentioned the necklace was made of coins,” Ginny said without a pause. “Harry bought Cho a necklace like that for Christmas. I helped him pick it out.”
Several of the women snickered. Aletha’s other eyebrow joined its companion. “And you expect me to believe this.”
“It’s true.”
Two sets of brown eyes met for a long moment. Finally, Aletha gave a little nod, and Ginny smiled. They both looked away at the same time.
“That’s enough of that,” said Hestia Jones, pulling a little book from her pocket. “We need to tell the bride-to-be’s fortune, to be sure we have warning to keep any bad luck away from her!”
The witches all exclaimed and crowded around, and Ginny’s quick signs to Luna and Meghan—keep quiet, tell you later—went unnoticed by anyone else in the crush.
“It’s nice of you to shield Hermione like that,” said Luna later when the girls were alone.
“It’s not Hermione I’m worried about.” Ginny plopped onto her own bed with a sigh of relief. “It’s Cho.”
“Cho?” Meghan wrinkled up her face as if the name tasted bad. “Why? After what she did—”
“That’s just it.” Ginny rolled over to face her Pridemates. “What she did. Think about it. If she hadn’t betrayed us, Harry would never have been at the Ministry, and neither would anyone else. And a lot of things never would have happened the way they did.”
Meghan’s eyes went wide. “Marcus,” she half-whispered.
Ginny nodded grimly. “If your mum found out about that…”
Meghan drew a finger across her lips, sealing them. Luna did the same. “Healer Letha will get better faster if she thinks everyone who was responsible for Marcus dying has been punished,” she said. “And they have. But I don’t know if she’d think what we did to Cho was enough.”
“Which is why she’s not going to find out.” Ginny poked her finger through a hole in her duvet. “She got the necklace off awfully fast, didn’t she? Cho, I mean.”
“Hermione made the jinx very specific,” Meghan said. “As soon as Cho learned how to care for other people more than herself, she could get it off.”
“She probably knew it already, then.” Ginny’s ring snagged on the edge of the hole, and she pulled it free. “She just needed a reminder.” She glanced up at Luna. “Do you know anything about her? I mean, have you…”
“Seen anything?” Luna shook her head. “She was never in any of my visions. Not even when she gave us away to Umbridge. Either she eats a lot of shroudberries—they make you invisible to scrying and Seers—or she isn’t very important to the future.”
“I like the second one better.” Ginny twisted her ring on her finger. “For all I care, she can stay home and be invisible the rest of the war. We’ll win it without her.”
And she can never give us away, and get my father nearly killed and Meghan’s little brother actually killed, again.
Not to mention, she can stay away from Harry.
Ginny licked her lips, letting her best Lynx smile grow on her face.
From my Harry.
Mine for good, soon enough.
“Two declarations of love in one day… it’s something in the water,” Remus said, closing the door of his and Danger’s temporary bedroom behind him. “Has to be.”
Danger drew her wand, conjured a glass, and filled it. “Have a drink?” she suggested, holding it out to him.
Remus laughed. “Do I really need it?”
“You tell me.” Danger set the glass on the bureau, planted her hands on the small of her back, and stretched luxuriously. “Do you?”
“No.” Remus crossed the room in two strides and slid his arm inside the curve of her spine. “I don’t believe I do.”
A few moments later, a tentative knock sounded on their door.
Go away, Remus grumbled mentally, his mouth being occupied. We’re busy.
Don’t be rude. Danger freed her lips. “Just a moment,” she called.
“We can come back,” answered Ron’s voice.
We, is it? “No, it’s all right,” Remus seconded, getting his arms loose. You’re thinking what I’m thinking.
You know perfectly well I am. Get under the bed. You need an excuse to look that flushed.
What about you? Remus objected, even as he went to hands and knees and scooted to the bedside.
Let me deal with me. Danger picked up the glass of water on her way to the door and doused herself with its contents. There. Dealt.
Remus stuck his head under the bed to be sure his snickering was inaudible as the door opened.
“Hello, Ron—” Danger’s voice broke off abruptly, and her mind slammed shut in surprise. “And company,” she finished. “You’re feeling better, I see.”
A moment’s pause, then a set of quiet thumps and a pattering sound. Remus occupied himself pairing up the shoes which had been kicked under the bed in the last few days. Don’t get your hopes up, he reminded himself. This may not be what it sounds like.
Gentle pressure against his side, as though some small creature were nuzzling him, coincided with a quizzical trill. A scent as of parchment and sweet spice intruded through the overwhelming smell of dust.
Trust paws before eyes, eyes before ears, and nose before all. It had been a saying in one of the books Sirius had studied his Animagus form from, and Remus had always remembered it when he thought about the foggy memories of his full moon nights. Now, half-crouched under a dusty bed in Sirius’ old home, its truth came back stronger than ever.
I know this scent. And I know what it means.
I have been granted one more miracle, in a life which was already full of them.
He crawled backward two paces, sat up, and brushed the dust out of his hair. The cat crouched by his side blinked rapidly and sneezed.
“Sorry,” Remus said, swallowing against his own urge to sneeze.
Neenie inclined her head in acceptance of the apology.
Tentatively, Remus extended a hand, his fingers curled loosely so that the knuckles were presented to Neenie. She sniffed at them, then rubbed her cheek against them, and Remus felt the beginnings of a purr through her jawbone before she moved away.
She can stand to be near me, even touch me. A day ago, a few hours, this would not have been possible.
Neenie’s form blurred, and then the human Hermione crouched before him in her nightdress. Her breath caught, and Remus scented sudden fear on her. “Don’t rush,” he said, though inwardly he longed to be able to hold her and comfort her. “Don’t rush, Kitten, don’t push too far too soon, you’ll only set yourself back—”
“No,” Hermione breathed. “Not now.”
“What do you mean?” Remus asked, his heart speeding up—she can talk to me, even sit next to me, this is a miracle—
“Now that I can fight the fear, I have to.” Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Ron, who stood near the door watching her with all his worry and hope for her clearly visible on his face. “I have to teach myself to trust again. And I don’t have a lot of time, if I’m going back to school with everyone else on Monday.”
“You don’t have to go back,” Danger said, moving into Hermione’s line of sight. “If anyone could stand to lose a few days, my love, it’s you. And you won’t go, if Letha thinks you’re not ready.”
Hermione nodded meekly. “But I have to start being strong somewhere,” she said. “And…” She looked back at Remus, and the fear scent billowed from her again, then receded, replaced by the same love and longing Remus felt on his own part. “I think this is a good place.”
One of her hands lifted slowly from the floor and reached towards Remus.
Hardly daring to breathe, Remus mirrored his Kitten’s movements.
Their fingers brushed, then interlaced, then clasped. Hermione shuddered, but her eyes were bright. “I can,” she whispered. “I can again. I’m still afraid, but it won’t stop me now. I won’t let it.”
The clasp of her fingers, the conflicts in her scent, and above all his knowledge of his daughter told Remus that she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and cling to him, to let him shield her from the world and its hurts.
But she’s smart. She knows that would still be too much, too soon.
She’s strong enough for this—I wonder—
He shifted his weight from his knees back to his feet and untwined his fingers from Hermione’s, though he kept his palm against hers. A moment later, he stood as Moony the lion, his paw dwarfing Hermione’s hand.
“Oh!” Hermione gave a breathless little laugh, then scrambled forward and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his mane. Moony lifted one paw and pressed it awkwardly around her, rumbling in her ear in a lion’s purr.
This will do. Until she is completely well again.
He pulled back enough to press his nose to the top of her head.
“Now you are a lioness...”
Across the room, Danger pulled a tissue from her pocket. “It’s dusty in here,” she said, holding it out to Ron without looking at him. “Don’t let it get to you too much.”
“Thanks,” Ron said a trifle croakily, taking the tissue. “I won’t.”
Monday dawned early, with cheerful shouts and the banging shut of trunks. The Ministry, having decided Harry Potter’s safety and that of his friends was a legitimate priority after all, was sending cars to take them all to the station, so the only necessary logistical task was that of getting everyone and everyone’s belongings out of the house in time.
“Only.” Ha. Sirius glared a bickering Meghan and Harry into silence. I’d rather organize a raid any day. At least then I’d get to curse something when I was done.
“Ron!” called Ginny from the top of the stairs. “Catch!”
Ron intercepted the item she’d tossed to him as neatly as Sirius had expected for the Gryffindor Keeper (unseasoned in the post as he might be), then looked at it curiously. “What do I need this for?” he asked, unlatching the top of the cloth-lined, wicker cat carrier.
“Make way,” called Fred from somewhere upstairs, though precisely where was beyond Sirius’ sight. “Make way for Her Royal Catness, the Princess Neenie!”
“That means commoners shove off!” George seconded.
Amid laughter and raspberries, the Princess made her entrance, balancing delicately on the twins’ uplifted Beaters’ bats. She sized up the scene in the hall for a moment, then leapt.
Neville, tying his shoe three-quarters of the way up the stairs, was her first stop. Next was Draco, leaning across the railing halfway down to say something to Luna in the hall below. Harry turned away from a last sniping comment to Meghan just in time to receive a full-grown cat to the chest, and Neenie springboarded across the front hall to land in the cat carrier Ron was still holding open.
Those who were not massaging bruised stomachs or claw-pierced backs burst into applause.
“Showoff,” Draco grumbled.
Neenie hissed briefly at him, then returned to trampling the lining of the carrier into a shape she liked better.
Sirius grinned and went across to Ron. “Take care with that cat you’ve got,” he said. “You know she’s one-of-a-kind.”
“Yes, sir.” Ron set the carrier down to shake Sirius’ hand. “I will.”
Sirius bent to rub Neenie’s ears goodbye and let her sniff his fingers in return, then turned to find Harry. He had something special to give his godson.
Now that he’s finally stopped baiting his sister, that is. Wish I were keeping one of these—I might be able to watch him at school and make sure he’s not doing it there too...
The Great Hall was draped in black that night, and Professor Dumbledore rose before the meal began with his glass in his hand. “In memory of a good and gentle man who gave his life to help friends,” he said. “Hogwarts’ second casualty of this Second War. Rubeus Hagrid.”
“Rubeus Hagrid,” repeated the school, raising their glasses in response.
Harry and the Pride, Hermione riding Ron’s shoulder as Neenie, had no sooner reached the Gryffindor common room than they were besieged with questions.
“How’d it happen?”
“When was it?”
“Who’s going to teach Care of Magical Creatures?”
“Were you there?”
“Did you see?”
“Can you tell us about it? The Prophet barely had anything!”
Neenie mewed anxiously, treading her claws through Ron’s robes. He winced and lifted her down into his arms.
“Shut up!” Harry bellowed in the voice he used for Quidditch practice, silencing the room. “There’s not a lot I can tell you,” he went on in a more normal tone. “But I can tell you about the funeral.” Ginny squeezed his arm from behind, and he brushed a finger against her hand before continuing. “That was yesterday.”
The Hagrids had lived in a little village called Wagons Cottage, and it was there, beside his father, that Rubeus Hagrid was laid to rest on this cloudy Sunday in January. Madame Maxime, her veil-draped hat putting Harry in mind of a mourning barge, stood silently beside Fleur, as though she had shed her tears already and now could only wonder at the pain that love had brought her.
Harry thought, on the whole, that Hagrid would have been proud of the turnout. The half-giant’s warm heart had won him friends in many places. What with the Order, the staff of Hogwarts, the former students whom he had helped through detentions or tight spots, and the other rare animal specialists who had respected his knowledge of the creatures in his care on the castle’s grounds (if not always his methods of teaching his students about them), there was quite a crush around the gravesite, even accounting for its unusual size.
Dumbledore had given the eulogy, making a point that Hagrid had saved several young women from falling prey to the Death Eaters but managing to escape all mention of how. Harry was glad. Hagrid himself would have appreciated the irony inherent in his death being the warning that saved the female Warriors of the Pride, but Harry doubted many other people would.
When the coffin had been lowered into the ground and covered, Dumbledore looked up towards Ginny and nodded to her. She nodded back, and, together with Luna, Neville, and Ron, came forward a pace. Ron hummed a note, and Ginny took it up, then began to sing.
Dona nobis pacem...
Luna took the second repetition of the words as Ginny sang high harmony. The boys sang the third melody as the girls both harmonized against it, and on the fourth and last repetition they all sang in harmony.
Harry swallowed against the lump in his throat as he listened. Hagrid had always loved to listen to the Pride singing together, and had often encouraged them to keep trying when a difficult harmony line or rhythmic challenge threatened to turn them away from a piece of music.
I wish I could sing too, but I don’t think I could get anything out through this. Ginny’s doing well enough for both of us anyway.
The song finished, everyone bowed their heads for a time. Then, few by few, people began to walk away, until finally only Madame Maxime, Fleur and Bill, Dumbledore, and the Pack and Pride were left at the grave.
“It is time I was going ’ome,” said Madame Maxime finally. “My students, my school, zey will need me.”
“You will be all right?” Dumbledore asked her.
“Pfeh—” Madame Maxime brushed the question away. “Zis dying for love, it is all very well for children. To live for love, zat is more difficult. But it is what ‘Agrid would ‘ave wished for me. To live, and to fight, in ‘is name.” She squared her shoulders. “My students, zey will now train for battle. Ze best will be ready whenever zere is need for zem. Fleur knows ze ways we of Beauxbatons send swift messages. She will call, and we will come. For ‘Agrid.” One tear threatened to spill from her right eye, but she dabbed it away with a white handkerchief the size of a bedsheet. “For ze sake of ‘is sacrifice.”
Dumbledore bowed his head in acceptance of her offer.
“So Beauxbatons is going to send people to fight with us?” said Lee when the story was over. “Good to know. More friends we have, the better.”
Harry nodded. “Speaking of which. DA members, hands up!”
Hands rocketed up all around the room.
“For anyone who doesn’t know what I’m talking about, ask someone with their hand raised,” Harry said. “For those of you who do, first meeting tomorrow night at seven in the usual place. As I mentioned before holidays, we’re an official club now, and Professor Longbottom’s coming to evaluate us, so make sure you’re warmed up and ready to fight.” He grinned. “Of course, that doesn’t mean we won’t have some fun too.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Maya darkly.
“You don’t have to take part if you don’t want to.”
“Take part in what?”
“You’ll see,” said Harry with an even bigger grin, one so big he had to share it with Ginny. This had been one of their ideas for how to cheer up the DA, many of whom they knew had been fond of Hagrid.
Plus, it lets us show off what we can already do...
“It’s called a Silly Duel,” Harry announced the next evening from his place on the dais. The DA’s original members had been busy—the Room of Requirement was packed, and he barely knew half the faces. “The point is to show off how many spells you know that wouldn’t be part of a regular duel. Obviously you don’t want to try to counter a Killing Curse with a Nose-Hair-Ringlets Jinx, but a silly spell you know backwards and forwards will have more power than a serious one you barely know at all, and power counts. One strong spell, especially one your opponent isn’t expecting, could be is all you need to win.” He pointed to the chart on the wall. “So... everybody come on up and put your name in a slot, and we’ll get dueling!”
Watching the resultant stampede, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and stared for a second at the person standing behind him.
“Hello, Harry,” said Cho, looking at the floor. In her hands she held the necklace of coins he’d sent her, with Hermione’s jinx on it. “I came to return this.”
Harry turned away again. “It was a gift,” he said over his shoulder. “Keep it.”
“You still don’t trust me.”
“Would you?”
He sensed, rather than felt, Cho’s wince. “I didn’t know what she’d do,” she said after a moment. “I never would have—”
“Would have, could have, and should have all add up to the same thing,” Harry interrupted. “Didn’t. You didn’t know, and you didn’t stop to think about it. You just went ahead and gave us all away. Gave me away. Let her do what she wanted to me, and got a baby killed who never hurt anyone.”
Cho drew a shuddering breath. “I never meant to,” she whispered.
“Well, you did. And you can’t take it back now.” Harry kept his eyes resolutely forward, towards the crush at the chart which was starting to sort itself out into some semblance of order.
“No... but can’t I make up for it? Please?”
Harry wavered a moment, then, swayed by the contrition in Cho’s voice, made up his mind.
“You can try,” he said. “But keep the necklace.”
“I will.” A slight jingle as Cho fastened it around her neck. “And I’ll fight hard. As hard as I possibly can.” A moment’s pause. “You seem to like giving girls silver jewelry.”
“It means different things, depending on the girl,” Harry said, stifling an inappropriate snicker. “And the jewelry.”
“So I guessed.” Cho turned to leave, then stopped. “Congratulations,” she said in a muffled tone. “I wish you both very happy.”
“Thanks,” Harry said. “Same to you, when you get around to it.”
And maybe someday I’ll be able to mean it.
The DA Silly Duel Tournament was down to its final two competitors—Katie Chi, a sharp-tongued Ravenclaw, facing off with Ryan Premeles, a fast-shooting Hufflepuff. Their erstwhile opponents, nursing (among other things) boat-shaped bruises, electrical burns from being struck with small bolts of lightning, and goat horns, watched from the sidelines, shouting encouragement to their duelist of choice.
“Wands at the ready,” said Professor Longbottom, standing on the sidelines. “And—begin!”
“Pressere!” shouted Ryan immediately. An enormous pair of arms shot from his wand and wrapped Katie in a humongous hug, throwing off her aim and sending her spell into the ceiling. Ryan’s backers cheered uproariously.
Katie Vanished the arms and pointed her wand at Ryan. “Combatus!”
A dozen tiny bats appeared around Ryan and began smacking him with their wings. “Ow!” Ryan yelped. “Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow!”
Katie’s backers hooted with laughter.
Ryan managed to send the bats back at Katie, and while she was busy getting rid of them, shouted “Obtundo partialis!”
Katie stamped her foot. Then stamped the other one. Up and down, up and down, went her feet, hammering with loud thumps against the floor—
They stopped. Katie took advantage of the pause to launch a spell of her own. “Balneo conflare!”
A toilet appeared behind Ryan and shot forward, knocking him down onto its seat. Ryan braced himself, a wise move as the toilet exploded a second after he’d landed on it, shooting him high into the air. As he soared, though, he aimed his wand at Katie, who was removing the Part-Time Thumping Spell from her feet. “Reticeo erae!”
Katie swooped her own wand up, but was hampered by the long, trailing gown which had suddenly appeared on her. A tall conical hat with a veil floating down from its tip popped onto her head to match, and she seemed to grow three inches as high-heeled shoes sprouted on her feet. Nevertheless, she aimed her wand at Ryan, who had landed a few feet from her, and shouted a spell.
Silently. No sound came from her mouth.
Ryan’s backers cheered and started to swarm forward.
Katie’s eyes narrowed, and her wand swung down with a short hard motion as though she were throwing something.
With a wet splat, Ryan was drenched in a sticky, fruit-smelling substance. He yelled in shock. “It’s hot!”
Katie grinned and flicked her wand down again. More of the goop shot from it, further coating Ryan, who was floundering in the puddle, unable to get to his feet or get his wand unstuck from his hand. “What is this stuff?” he whined, trying to shake it off his hands.
Professor Longbottom leaned over and sniffed at it. “Apricot,” she said. “Apricot preserves. It’s often used to glaze pastries, since it melts so well and crystallizes so clear.”
Katie nodded, grinning widely, and waved her wand in a wide arc. Cold air blasted from it.
The preserves around Ryan solidified, freezing him in place. He looked as if he’d been encased in ice.
“I give up,” he mumbled from inside the coating. “You win.”
Katie pointed at her throat and scowled.
“I can’t move.” Ryan made little thrashing motions to bear this out. “Or breathe.”
Professor Longbottom rectified this by Vanishing the apricot preserves and reversing the Ladylike Silence spell affecting Katie. “Ladies and gentlemen of the DA, your winner of the Silly Duel Tournament!” she called, lifting Katie’s arm high. “Katie Chi!”
The DA obligingly raised the roof.
I could get used to this, Harry thought from the back of the crowd, clapping with everyone else (he and the Pride had decided to referee rather than duel, to make sure the tournament could get done before midnight). Everyone has fun, everyone gets a workout, and we all go home afterwards.
Maybe we can have a few peaceful months.
If that word has any meaning, in the middle of a war.
Author Notes:
Many thanks to Ryan and LadyChi of PotterFicWeekly for graciously agreeing to guest star in this chapter.