Facing Danger
Chapter 52: Reversals (Year 6)
By Anne B. Walsh
Danger skidded to a halt in her hiding place and flopped down on her side, panting. Her thoughts ran in circles in her mind, frightened rabbits without a hole in sight.
She almost had me. She was much too close to sensing who I was. Just another few seconds and she would have known.
Do I dare go back? Will she talk to me again? Will she be too angry? Will she care at all?
All of which added up to the sixty-four thousand Galleon question: What am I supposed to do now?
She'd never thought of herself as a weak person. Not particularly strong, perhaps, but able to keep going through most things. Losing her parents and being left to raise Hermione alone, discovering she was a true-dreamer and magic was real, falling in love and plotting a double abduction in a whirlwind two days, none of it had ever done what her current isolation and uncertainty was threatening to do.
It's cut my feet out from under me. I can't stand back up and keep going this time, because I don't know which way to go. Even if I can get into the manor, find Sirius and let him loose, change him back to human and give him one of the cubs' potion pieces so he can fight, he won't leave without Aletha. And Aletha won't leave with us, because she doesn't remember who she is or where she belongs.
We could make her come along…
The thought had no sooner occurred to Danger than she rejected it. That's a perfect way to gain her trust again, isn't it? Ambush her, kidnap her, force her into something she doesn't want. No, if she's going to come with us, it has to be open and willing. Nothing underhanded.
She closed her eyes wearily, letting out a long sigh. Oh, Remus, this is why I need you. You understand people so much better than I do. You would know the perfect way to get at Aletha—or should I call her Mare? You could make her trust you, make her listen when you told her the truth, make her… not fall into your arms, maybe, but at least be willing to take your hand!
A patch of fur just below Danger's eye went several shades darker with moisture.
I need you. We need you. Please, come back to us soon…
In a small, neat bedroom at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Remus Lupin stirred, his fingers twitching, then relaxed once again into unconsciousness. By the time Meghan and Madam Pomfrey arrived at a run, there was no sign he had moved, but Madam Pomfrey announced the monitoring spells were working perfectly.
"Have a look for yourself," she told Meghan. "Look only, no touching, but go on and do it."
Meghan closed her eyes for a second, whispered a few words to herself, and opened them with an extra sparkle added to the silver. "He did move," she murmured, reaching for her wand. Madam Pomfrey moved to stop her, and Meghan made an indignant noise. "Not on him! Just on the bed!"
"All right, but no accidentally-on-purpose missing, now."
A sniff greeted this. "Revelio caloris."
The duvet lying over Remus gained two or three spots of dull red, including one, just beside his hand, clearly shaped like two fingers pressed together.
"It's showing us where it's warmer than the rest, you see?" Meghan bounced on her toes. "His hand was on that one spot, it warmed it up, and now it's not there anymore so he must have moved!"
"Yes, he must have." Madam Pomfrey smiled despite herself. Meghan's enthusiasm was infectious. "And what else do you see?"
Meghan reeled off the proper Healers' technical terms for what her powers were telling her, then turned the full power of her pleading eyes on Madam Pomfrey. "So he's starting to get well?"
Madam Pomfrey hesitated. She had dealt with recoveries from Dark spells before, and the only thing certain about them was uncertainty. Sometimes the victims recovered completely, sometimes they didn't, and sometimes, without warning, they died. Often, that happened when it looked as though recovery had begun, the Dark wizard's last little joke on the victim's family and friends.
But I know those spells. I know their symptoms, their tell-tales. This is not one of them.
I know it could be a new one, a new variant, an old one brought back into use…
She looked down at the eyes turned up to hers, begging silently for this scrap of good news after more pain than any thirteen-year-old girl should have to deal with, Healer apprentice or not.
"Yes," she said. "He's starting to get well."
Take note, whoever you were that cast this spell. If you make me into a liar, I will find you, and I will illustrate to you why you do not ever want anyone trained in Healing angry with you.
When we know how you go together, we also know how you come apart.
Dudley was grateful his face was hidden under his white mask. A combination of the heat and his recurring thoughts about the way his cousin had forced his prank to backfire on him had turned his skin what he was sure was an unattractive shade of magenta.
He'll pay for it soon, he reminded himself. Potter will pay. I've made sure of it. Potter will pay, and I'll get everything I want, all at the same time…
The business of the meeting went on unnoticed as he began to fantasize about the life he would lead after it was over. As the one who had made it possible for the Dark Lord to destroy Harry Potter, he would, of course, become fabulously rich and powerful. Pureblood witches would fling themselves at him, begging him to be their partner in the all-important work of replenishing the wizarding population, and when he was tired of them, he'd take his pick from the blood traitors, Mudbloods, and Muggles. No matter what he wanted, he could have it.
And no one will ever dare say no to me, ever again.
It was the fulfillment of his childhood wish, and all he'd have to do to obtain it were two very simple things. Two obstacles stood between him and what he wanted, and he was going to be practical, right-thinking, and Slytherin about that.
He was going to remove them.
"Dudley?" the Dark Lord's voice cut into his thoughts. "Is everything prepared for your part of our little exercise?"
"Perfectly, my lord." Dudley didn't bother to muffle his laugh the way he would have done at home. "They'd go to Australia if I told them to. Going to the end of the street won't bother them. When their tiny Muggle brains finally work out what's happening to them, it'll be too late."
"Excellent." The Dark Lord smiled, thin and cruel. "By this time tomorrow, Harry Potter will be unprotected, and the way finally clear for my triumph…"
Harry jerked awake to find his sheets soaked with sweat and Fox standing over him, jaws open. "Gah!"
Sorry, don't—
Thud.
Oops? Fox peered off the edge of the bed at Harry, now lying on the floor and swearing under his breath. I swear I wasn't trying to scare you. Just trying to work out how to get you out of—
It's tomorrow.
Beg pardon?
Tomorrow. Harry rolled onto his side, rubbed his shoulder with a wince, and sat up. He's got something planned to break the blood wards, get in here and take me, and he's got it planned for tomorrow. We have to be ready to run.
Oh, joy. My favorite thing. Fox leapt down from the bed and shook his head hard. Back to the Hogwarts Den?
Unless Moony unexpectedly comes out of it, yes. Harry glanced towards the desk, where Meghan's hurriedly-written note rested. Which is a little more possible than it seemed yesterday, but still not all that likely. So yes.
Ah, sweet humanity. Or Wolfiness, for you. And being able to see more people than just the two of us, and the others in an occasional dream. Fox thumped his tail against the floor as Padfoot might, trying for a cheerful tone. And—this isn't helping, is it?
What was your first clue? Harry balled his hand into a fist and drove it into the side of the mattress. "I hate this," he muttered aloud, his voice thick with anger. "I hate every bloody second of it. What was the point? What was the point of any of it? Of sticking us away out here, and making you stay as Fox for nearly two weeks, and everything else we've done? What good did it do? None, that's what. No good at all. We'll end up back where we started, less one spot to run to, and where do we go after he gets in there? Where are we supposed to go when—"
How's your Occlumency coming? Fox interrupted.
"My—what?"
Occlumency. You know, the whole clear your mind, focus on one thing, make it your shield bit. How're you doing with it?
Harry suggested something unpleasant-sounding Fox could do with Occlumency, and it with him.
No thanks. But I think you'd feel better if you tried it right now. Call it a hunch. Don't actually call up any fire or we'll get tagged for underage, but see what happens if you shield…
The look on Harry's face had Fox biting down on his courage so as not to back away, but the green eyes closed and the mental feel went from "angry" to "preoccupied". Fox crossed his back paws—closest thing I have to fingers at the moment—and concentrated on leaving his own power open along the Pride-bond, in case Harry needed extra.
With what I think he's fighting, he'll need all the help he can get.
A few moments later, Harry's mind cleared in a rush, and he leaned back against the nightstand. "I'm an idiot," he said without opening his eyes. "He was still here, wasn't he?"
Not exactly, I don't think. Fox stood on his hind legs and picked up Harry's glasses by one earpiece, dropping them neatly into his brother's hand. He can't get into your head on purpose here, remember. But you were still linked up with him residually from seeing into his mind, and that wasn't helping your mood any.
"Not that it needed helping at all. I was just woken up at midnight—" Harry opened his eyes and craned his neck to see the alarm clock. "No, two in the morning, so much better. At two in the morning by finding out an evil maniac wants me dead and thinks he can manage it by tomorrow night. Why would that bother me?"
Can't imagine. I'd think you ought to be used to it by now.
Harry flicked Fox on the back of the head. "Shut it. So tomorrow, we finish our homework, pack, and go over how we're getting out of here without breaking too many laws."
Can we break the house?
"I doubt we'll be back, so go for it."
Fox cackled with glee and rubbed his front paws together. Destruction… mwahahahaha…
"All right, now you're scaring me."
Ginny opened her eyes, confused. The small, repetitive noise was much too quiet to be her alarm, but it had pulled her out of sleep anyway. What could it be—
Her brain cleared enough for the exact nature of the sound to register, and she was out of bed in an instant, snagging the box of tissues off the nightstand as she went and tossing a hairbrush across the room at Meghan. "Luna," she said urgently, grabbing her friend's shoulder and shaking her, interrupting the small, choked sobs. "Luna, wake up. You're dreaming."
Meghan sat up, rubbing her elbow and glaring at Ginny. Ginny glared back, indicated the white-faced and trembling Luna, and jerked her head towards the door. "Get her dad," she mouthed, and Meghan, after one more scowl for form, shoved her feet into her slippers and darted off.
"Bad dream?" Ginny asked, helping Luna sit up and holding the tissues where her friend could see them.
"Yes." Luna wiped her eyes clear and inspected her hand closely. "It's clean. It looks clean. But it wasn't clean then. It was covered. My hands, my mouth, all over me, Ginny, it was everywhere." She shuddered. "I could taste it. I still can."
Ginny dug in the pocket of her dressing gown for her wand, then Summoned a glass from the bathroom and filled it with water. Luna drank a few sips and set the rest aside. "Thank you," she said. "It helps."
"You're welcome." Ginny weighed her options and decided knowing was the lesser evil. "What could you taste, Luna? What was it all over you?"
Luna smiled faintly. "What do you think?" She held up her hands as though they were still dripping. "Blood, Ginny. It all comes back to blood. I don't know when I'll shed it, but I know I will. And I don't know who will die today, or where, or why, but I know they will…"
Fox lay on the tile floor of the bathroom, it being the coolest place available to him, and went over his mental map of the Dursleys' house, constructed through repeated nighttime forays out the catflap. He had been in and out of Dudley's room several times, often "borrowing" from the other boy's massive stash of junk food to keep himself and Harry in sweets, and had sniffed around the guest room Vernon and Petunia were using for the time being but hadn't left any signs of his presence behind.
No sense in tipping our hand.
Downstairs was the kitchen, the other logical choice for food raids, though it was filled with healthy food and was therefore lower on Fox's personal list. Still, tempting as it was, man and fox could not live on Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs alone, and the kitchen had suffered losses almost as regularly as Dudley's stash. Downstairs was also the greenhouse and the small toolbench inside it, including a coil of rope, which figured in one of the three escape plans the brothers had put together.
Very originally titled Plans A, B, and C, but originality takes a twig seat to staying alive in situations like this. "There is no Plan B" makes for great jokes… not so funny when you're the one who won't be seeing his family again.
His background panic chose this moment to try to rise up. Ruthlessly he shoved it down. Can't think about you just now. Bit busy surviving today. Worry about next June once I'm human and hugging Hermione.
The fear subsided, and Fox returned to his plans. All three Dursleys are going out this afternoon. Dudley spotted a new car in a driveway two streets back… or so he said. I wouldn't trust him further than I can throw him, with me as Fox and him human, but I can't exactly warn his dad and mum off him when they think he hung the moon. So that gets them out of the way while the Death Eaters move in and try to break the wards…
Or does it? Irritated, he rolled over and thumped his head against the floor. I'm missing something. A step somewhere. And I can't—thump—think—thump—what—thump—it is!
Harry pushed the door open and peered in. "All right in here?"
Fine. Seeing if pounding my head will loosen up the thought blockages.
"Any luck?"
Not yet. I'll keep trying.
"Don't damage the floor. Aunt Petunia wouldn't like it."
Fox snorted. Yes, and I give a rat's behind what she likes why?
"You don't have to. I do. She isn't all bad." Harry shrugged. "Let me know what you come up with. I've got Potions still to finish, though I don't know why I'm bothering. It's not like I got that O Snape insists on, unlike some people…"
What can I say? Fox exhibited his toothiest upside-down grin. The cauldron loves me.
"My cauldron's going to love your head in a minute…" Harry grumbled himself back to his desk, leaving Fox snickering.
For that one moment, he thought, everything had been normal. The strange surroundings, the mounting tension, none of it mattered. They were just brothers teasing each other about the different things they did well, secure in their knowledge that life would go on after today.
So let's go over those plans one more time and make sure it does.
Closing his eyes, he slipped himself into a dream-set of Plan A. We hear them coming in. I slip out and hide in the room at the top of the stairs to warn Harry how many, so he knows how long a burst of the knockout potion to use…
Sirius paced back and forth in his tiny space, unable to stay still. The Death Eaters' headquarters was humming like a disturbed cluster of billywigs, and had been since that morning. He knew something was up, and had a nasty suspicion based on what he'd been hearing from Evanie that it involved Harry, but other than that he was in the dark.
Not that there's anything I could do about it even if I had their engraved battle plans signed by Lord Oldy-Fart himself. Other than maybe try and convince Aletha to go out and let Danger know about it, and get her to send a message back…
Constructing possibilities along these lines kept him sufficiently busy that sudden footsteps one corridor away startled him considerably. Who is that? It's not Evanie or Letha, they're much quieter, but it's not any of my usual visitors either…
He sniffed a few times and sneezed hard, backing up involuntarily until he hit the far wall and swearing mentally in every language he had ever heard. I don't know who, but I know what they're here for. They've had blood and they want more. And did I just hear—
Shoving his fear into a far corner of his mind, he listened hard.
"—not allowed to finish the job yet. The Dark Lord wants to be there himself."
"Why?"
"So Potter can see it all, dimwand. It's why we have to wait to finish, because Potter can't be there until the wards fall and the wards can't fall without our big man here, can they?" Laughter, of the nasty-drunk variety. "So we get warmed up down here on Black, head back up for the opening act, and come back for act two. Big finish later tonight out in the Muggle world…"
Fear, this time more for Harry than himself, came flooding back. Sirius was about to treat it as he had the first batch when an idea came to him. If he wasn't going to survive today, which seemed awfully likely at this point, he could at least deny Voldemort the rare treat of forcing Harry to watch his murder.
And if this works like I think it will, I might get to take one of the little bastards with me…
Letting the fear have momentary rein, he cowered along the back wall of his cage, whimpering.
That's right, I'm so scared. See how scared I am. I won't be any fun, no fun at all, not unless you make me be.
"Merlin's arse, I thought he was supposed to be an Auror," said one of the speakers, appearing around the corner. There were four of them, all very young, none masked. One in particular had Sirius biting back a growl.
I knew there was something wrong with him, I just knew it, and Harry's in his house, thinking it's safe, thinking nothing can get him there…
"Look at him now!" The boy stuck out his chest and swaggered. "Who's a good doggy, then? Who's going to do tricks for us if he doesn't want to go under Imperius and do them anyway?"
"Not Imperius, that's no fun," objected another boy. "Just hit him with a Cruciatus or two, he'll roll over. They all do in the end." He drew his wand ran his fingers suggestively along its length. "After we've got him trained, why not go see what his Mudblood wife's got hiding in her pantries?"
I would pay money to see you try, boy. Sirius ducked his head between his legs to hide his snort of laughter. She will painshock your sorry bollocks so hard they'll climb back up inside you and never come out.
"First things first." Dudley Dursley pushed between the other boys to stand in front of the bars separating them and Sirius. "Let's teach him who's boss. Not so smart now, are you, blood traitor? Not so ready to decide we're all the same, we should all be friends, let's all hold hands and sing?"
Sirius hunched his shoulders and whimpered, hoping the boy would mistake the bafflement in his eyes for fear. You're a Muggleborn, you little brat. Why are you with these people? Don't you know what they'll do to you the first chance they get? Or do you get an in because you're bringing them Harry? That would do it if anything would…
"See, here's the difference between you and me." Dursley crouched, clutching the bars and pushing his fat forehead against them. "You were born magical, best blood around, and you pissed it away. I was born Muggle, but I'm rising above it. Going beyond it. Taking care of it." His hands tightened expressively on the bars. "Myself. My very own self."
Or that could be it. Sirius spared one instant of pity for the Dursleys—he'd spent years hating them for what they'd done to Harry, but no one deserved what was going to happen to them tonight—then returned his attention to his own situation. There was just a chance he could stop everything if he made the right moves here and now.
Come on, you little upstart, come on. He flattened his ears and stared at Dursley, willing the boy to take his challenge. You know you want me. You want to see me hurt, want to see me bleed, and doing it at wandpoint's too standoffish for you. It has to be up close and personal, but you can't do it like that from way over there…
"You never did learn proper respect, did you?" Dursley asked softly. "I think you need to learn it right now. Come here."
Sirius set his paws and braced himself. Make me.
"Come here, I said!" The other Death Eaters were starting to snicker. "Come here or—or—"
Or what? Sirius sniffed disdainfully. Some magical overlord you make. Can't even remember to have your wand out when you're making threats.
"Or I'll come in there after you!" Dursley snatched out his wand and flicked it at the bars. They disappeared, and Sirius had to control his instant urge to leap. Dursley's buddies would only attack him if he did that.
But if they think I'm totally cowed, so terrified of them that I won't even fight back when they're open to me…
"Get out here!" Dursley stormed across the former dividing line, wand still in hand, and made a grab for the scruff of Sirius' neck. "We'll see how stupid you make me look when you're—"
With a defiant bark, Sirius lunged.
Dursley had time for one short scream.
Mare was through the kitchen door before the first batch of sounds had a chance to die away. Shrieking, spellfire, and snarls had no place in her afternoon, especially not before she'd talked to Sirius and found out what he was hiding. Mopping the floor had been her last job for the day, and she had been planning to go see him immediately thereafter.
Not this immediately, though. She glanced down at the length of wood in her hand, topped with fluffy white rags. And definitely not while still carrying the mop!
She started to throw it away, then thought better of it. If there were Death Eaters hurting Sirius, she would need some way to convince them to leave. Her magic, as powerful as it was, worked only with physical contact.
Suddenly I wish I had that wand Danger showed me…
The thought was her last coherent one, as she turned the final corner and saw the scene in a flash she was sure she'd be revisiting in her nightmares.
Sirius lay on his side, a thin line of blood dribbling from his jaws. Two boys in robes were taking turns kicking him viciously and firing spells into him. The third was kneeling beside the prone body of a fourth, waving his wand frantically over the enormous puddle of blood now collecting between the stones.
One for my prince. Mare's brown eyes narrowed. That leaves three for me.
She brought the mop around two-handed, catching the kneeling boy in the face with the business end, then cracked him on the side of the head with her backswing. The mallet-against-melon sound had the other two boys whirling around, but a quick swipe of wet rags sent their wands spinning away to clatter against the opposite wall. Mare changed her grip, choking up on the wooden end, and advanced on the pair.
"Cowards," she spat. "Filth. Try me on for size, why don't you?"
One of the boys whimpered. The other appeared to be trying to scrabble his way between the stones of the wall.
"Pathetic." Mare lunged, feinting right, and whipped her improvised staff across as the whimperer tried to make a run for it. He slid to the floor bonelessly, and she turned her attention to the last one standing. "Anything to say?"
"W-w-we j-just wanted to have a b-bit of fun," the boy stammered. "And then he g-goes and tries to t-tear Dursley's throat out!"
"Well, good for him." Mare pinned him to the wall with the end of her staff and her glare. "So why don't I have a bit of fun now? The same way you were going to do? Should I start by kicking you, or by getting your wand and seeing if I can manage one of those spells you were tossing off?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Oh, really now, if just the threat of pain makes you piss yourself, what good are you ever going to be as a Death Eater? Grow up, and remember you're working for a wizard who likes to throw pain curses around on a daily basis…"
The boy made a little moaning noise, and his eyes rolled back in his head as the staff became the only thing holding him upright.
"Ugh." Mare let him drop, stepping aside so as not to foul her robes by touching him. "Nasty little thing."
Tossing the mop aside, she dropped to her knees beside Sirius, swearing quietly as she laid her hands on him. The damage was severe, with internal bleeding in several spots and more broken bones than she wanted to think about. His breathing was labored, his heart starting to falter, and even as she sent strength into him, she felt a slow detachment, a sliding away of something subtly vital. His spirit, battered and worn from captivity and pain, was losing its grip on his body.
Oh no you don't. Not before I get a chance to talk to you.
She sat back on her heels, tightened her grip on his front paw, closed her eyes, and dived after him.
He was annoyed. Seriously annoyed, if he did say so himself. He had important business to take care of, places to be and people to see, and all of it was behind that door. But his irritating brother, typically for him, had planted himself in front of said door and didn't look likely to move any time soon.
Just have to brazen it out. Get him out of the way and move on.
He stepped into the open and started for the door.
"Where are you going?" his brother demanded, fixing him with the gray eyes they held in common.
"What business is it of yours?" he snapped back.
The other was clearly holding onto his temper by a thread. "I'm your brother."
"That doesn't make you my keeper."
"I'm trying to stop you from doing something you'll regret."
Letha. He could see her beautiful face, hear her voice, lovely even as it cursed, feel her hands start to send cool relief through him, but it wasn't enough, it couldn't be enough… "It's too late for that," he said indistinctly, then summoned up a sneer to confront the other with. "And who are you to say what I'll regret?"
His brother smiled maddeningly. "Believe it or not, you don't know everything."
"Neither do you!"
"I didn't say I did. But I do know you're going the wrong way." A thin hand rose, extended in a "stop" gesture. "No matter what you think has happened, it isn't too late to turn around. Let me help you..."
"Help me? How are you going to help me? I'm dead!" Sirius stopped, looking more closely at Regulus. "Which explains what you're doing here. You're dead too. Right?"
"I am. You're not. Not for long, anyway." Regulus smirked. "Nice try, big brother, but I still win this round. All I had to do was stall you long enough for her to show up, and here she is now…"
Sirius spent one instant too long wondering who "she" was, and one more cursing himself for a fool. Cool, strong fingers latched onto his wrist, and Regulus and the door blurred into a distant haze.
If Meghan could pull Harry back from fracturing his spine, Letha should have no trouble fixing the damage from a few lousy Cruciatuses…
Pain flared, then subsided, and he opened his eyes with a gasp. Aletha knelt beside him, eyes closed, her hand still curled around his wrist, the dull blue of her work robes stained with the brown-red of drying blood. He was so busy appreciating the sight that it wasn't until she sighed faintly and crumpled forward into his hastily outstretched arms that he caught hold of the most salient fact.
I have arms. I see colors. Supporting her weight, he got shakily to his feet. She didn't just bring me back to life—she made me bloody well human again!
It would be too much to hope, he supposed, that his magic was also back in its usual place. One simply didn't get miracles of that order.
But I have to try. Draping Aletha across one shoulder, so that she would still be held up by him if this worked, he visualized the change back into Padfoot. And—now!
Nothing happened. He was still two-legged and dressed in ragged robes, his hair a bit too long and his face covered with a week and a half's worth of stubble. It wasn't quite the look he'd had when he'd come out of Azkaban, but he thought it might be one he could take to a fancy-dress ball without terrifying every woman in attendance.
Which is a wonderful thing to be thinking about when you're a Squib, alone in a manor filled with Death Eaters, and have an unconscious woman on your hands. Not to mention three, no, four unconscious junior DE's…
Or is it three after all?
Laying Aletha gently down on the floor, Sirius approached the silent, still figure of Dudley Dursley. He started to roll the younger wizard onto his back, then stopped with a sigh. There was no point, and no question in his mind any longer. Nothing living felt that cold or responded that limply to pressure.
The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. Deluded, disgusting, a waste of space and oxygen Dudley might have been, but he had also been a boy barely a month older than Harry.
Yes, Harry. Whom he was planning to hand over to his Dark Master after he'd finished with his own parents, let's not forget. And after he finished beating on you, and possibly even getting to kill you for his Master's and his colleagues' enjoyment. You were defending yourself, your wife, your godson. No judge in the world would convict you for this one.
He sighed again, turning away. But that doesn't stop me wishing I hadn't done it.
Hoisting Aletha carefully over his shoulder, he walked away, one hand on the wall for balance. He might not have Padfoot's nose to guide him any longer, but his human one was good enough to catch faint whiffs of her clean scent, and bits of rag were snagged on the stones of the wall here and there, further guiding him.
If I remember right, her "nest" is just a few steps away from the kitchen where she does most of her work, and it looks like…
He stumbled around a corner and caught himself on the wall before he dropped to his knees. In front of him, a grand staircase swept down from the upper level of the house, with a worn velvet curtain hiding the region underneath it.
That.
Tired as he was, a grin came to his face. Hiding under the stairs, are you, love? You remember more of our den-nights than you think you do…
Behind the curtain lay a tangle of bedding which made him even more sure of that point. Aletha stirred once as he settled her into the hollow her body had carved out in the sheets, but relaxed again when he tucked a pillow under her head. Covering her with another sheet, Sirius chose a spot at her feet, curling up as Padfoot might and letting the weariness overtake him at last.
"You saved my life, and I can't even give you yours back to say thank you," he murmured as he slipped into sleep. "Maybe if I could figure out what you were trying to tell me with the colors song…"
One instant Danger was sleeping soundly. The next, she was awake, staring intently around her.
What woke me?
The sun was starting to set, but she knew that hadn't awakened her from a sound sleep. And if it had been a predator, or anything else that her wolf form interpreted as possible trouble, she would have been on her paws and baring her teeth at it already.
So either I'm getting so jumpy and strung-out from being alone that I'm jumping at shadows, or…
Behind her, someone cleared a tentative throat.
Danger emitted an embarrassingly cublike yip, leapt straight into the air, and came down facing the opposite way.
"Sorry!" The small, brown-haired woman had her hands clapped over her mouth. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," she said around them, looking as earnest as anyone could while trying to stop laughing. "I've been worried about my friends, is all. There's trouble in the house, and I don't know where they've gone, so I thought maybe you could help me find them."
Maybe I can. Danger moved a few steps closer and sniffed, repressing her growl. You smell like rat. Like Letha and Padfoot too, but mostly like rat. She stopped and took a closer look. Wait a minute. I've seen you before. Right before this all started, at Diagon Alley, with Sirius…
"Can you change back?" the woman asked quietly. "It would help a lot if we could talk." She tried for a smile. It wobbled around the edges. "My name's Evanie. I know Mare calls you Princess, but that isn't your real name any more than hers is Mare. She's Aletha, or she ought to be. What about you?"
Brown eyes closed, the better to concentrate with. Feet, hands, clothes, hair, face, voice—
"Call me Danger."
Author Notes:
Sorry for the extra day's wait. Blame the truly amazing performance of Riverdance I was privileged to see on Saturday, or the astounding thunderstorm that hit late Sunday, or just a slightly lazy author. In any case, here is your chapter, and as you can see, things are finally starting to happen!
Next chapter, more things, possibly some of them the things for which you've been hoping, and a few surprises, including a moment I've been thinking about for literally years! See you then, and remember, reviews, reviews, they're good for the heart, the more you review, the more you… no, wait, that's beans…