Facing Danger
Chapter 5: Newcomers and Negotiations (Year 5)
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
Creepy images at end of chapter.
Chapter 5: Newcomers and Negotiations
“I am very disappointed.” Harry looked down at the back of a black-hooded head and noted the slight quiver of the shoulders, the little wheeze in the breathing, the myriad signs that showed this follower fully understood the meaning of his master’s disappointment. “How was it that this plan went so awry?”
“My lord, the Headquarters was finished early. I had thought it would take at least another week to find and repair the trouble with the wards in the walls. And I was not present when Dumbledore and the rest decided when and how to conduct the move.” The man’s speech was careful, precise, but with a hint of desperation in its cadences. “It would have done us little good in any case. Any covert strike would have been traced to me easily, and attacking openly would mean attracting the sort of attention you have instructed us to avoid.”
“You rationalize your defeat well,” Harry said coolly. “But I am not accustomed to defeat, and yet it faces me at every turn. Two plans destroyed by the Order, a Death Eater killed and another two wounded by dragon fire...”
“My lord, the first plan is not yet destroyed.” The desperation was mounting in the usually controlled tones. “It must simply be delayed, put off for a time. They will grow careless, tired of the place they have chosen...”
“Of which you can tell me nothing more, I understand.” Harry seated himself, tapping his long forefingers together. “And I can send new envoys to the giants, though they will have less success in that area than those from the Order, since giants will surely be impressed by the strength displayed in the control of a dragon. So, in a sense, neither of my plans is destroyed. Still, even you will not deny that they have been gravely set back. Especially with Liebenburg’s death.”
“Liebenburg was new.” Sulkiness crept into the kneeling man’s voice. “He had joined us barely a week before he went out. I have been faithful from the beginning.”
“Have you?” Harry allowed himself a brief laugh. “But your faithfulness is not in question here. You had little or nothing to do with my ambassadors to the giants, though you did thoughtfully provide us with the path Dumbledore’s lackeys were taking. And you are correct that Liebenburg was new, and a loss easily afforded. Yaxley and Greco will recover in time. But if I now wish the mission to the giants to succeed, I must send one of my sworn ones, leaving me with only two to provide what I need even more. What do you advise me to do?”
“My lord, you will not like my advice,” the man said frankly. “Yet it is the best that I can give you, and I owe it to you to give you the best and the truth.”
“Speak, then. I am listening.”
“My advice is to wait. Make them wear themselves out with watching. Every defense flags in time, if no enemy attacks it. Time is on your side. They will become careless, they will make a mistake, and in that moment you will have them.”
“A good answer.” Harry drew his wand from his pocket and caressed it. “I like it.”
“Then... my punishment?” The whisper would have been inaudible if any other sound had intruded upon the room.
“Will be reduced. But not removed.” Harry let the wand’s tip drift lazily back and forth before him. “Failure is still failure, after all.”
The man tensed in place. The scent/taste/feel of fearful anticipation began to mount.
Harry smiled, licked his lips, and let it.
xXxXx
One second Moony-the-lion was chasing down a wild deer, anticipating the rush of the kill and the hot blood in his mouth –
The next he was lying awake in bed, one word resonating between his ears.
Harry.
Danger was already out of bed, pulling on her dressing gown. Remus followed suit quickly. An image of Sirius and Aletha passed between them, followed by wordless agreement. All of them would be best for this.
Harry lay in the second floor hallway, sucking air between his teeth, one hand pressed to his forehead. Remus made no attempt to disguise his approach, kneeling beside his Pack-son when he reached him. “Bad dream?” he asked quietly, shutting the door of the boys’ bedroom with his wand.
“Yeah.” The assent was barely audible, exhaled with the pain. “The spy... I saw him...”
“The spy in the Order?” The father in Remus wanted to tell Harry not to talk about it, but the warrior knew this was important. “You saw him?”
“Just his body. He was... you know.” Harry’s free hand waved up and down his prone body. “Covered up. Robe and mask and all. I heard him talk, and I know him... but I don’t know him.”
“You recognized the voice, but you can’t put a name to it,” Remus translated.
“Yeah, that.” A trace of the humor in the situation slipped into Harry’s tone, and was just as quickly gone as the boy’s body stiffened. “Scar...” Harry breathed, a whimper slipping out between his words. “He’s enjoying this...”
“Enjoying what?” Remus asked, a little too sharply. “Hurting you?”
“No... I don’t think... no, not me. Hurting him. The spy. Because he failed. He likes it. Voldemort does.”
All right, enough of this. Remus laid his left hand on Harry’s back and sent gentle warmth into painfully knotted muscles. Harry leaned into it, and Remus added his other hand after scent-touching Harry’s cheek.
Three sets of quiet footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the other Pack-parents were there, Aletha kneeling instantly to caress Harry’s face herself, Danger ducking around Remus’ back to sit down near Harry’s feet, Sirius holding back a moment until Aletha finished what she was doing, then leaning in as Remus moved out and lifting Harry into a sitting position.
“He just won’t leave you alone, will he?” the older wizard said, helping his godson lean against the wall. “Want to talk about it?”
“Already did.” Harry turned his head slowly to indicate Remus with his eyes. “Not much else I remember. Secret plan... and the spy told him where Hagrid and Madame Maxime were going to be... was there anything wrong with the wards in the walls here?”
“There was a mix-up,” Danger said. “Two teams thought it was their job to put them up.”
“He did that. The spy. He was trying to delay Headquarters being ready until something else was. Something of Voldemort’s. And he said he wasn’t here when Dumbledore decided about a move.” Harry’s eyes were open now, and his hand was off his forehead. “Whatever got moved is valuable, isn’t it? You don’t want Voldemort to have it, so you’re keeping it here.”
“Yes,” Aletha said, reaching up to catch the vial of potion she’d summoned. “You’re perfectly correct.”
“And I’m not allowed to know what it is.” There was tired acceptance in the tone, but Remus couldn’t decide if that was a function of some new maturity of Harry’s or of the late hour and the headache.
“It’s no secret,” said Aletha, pouring a dose of the potion into the cup Sirius had conjured for her. “But there’s no point in talking about it just now, either. You don’t need anything else to think about, or worry about, tonight. If you’re still curious tomorrow, ask again.”
“But only you,” Sirius added. “Don’t go spreading this one around.”
Harry’s eyes were speculative over the lip of the cup, but he said nothing, finishing the potion and leaning back against the wall again. The lines of pain on his face began to smooth out as the potion went to work.
“All right for now?” Danger asked, stroking Harry’s hair and continuing down onto his shoulder.
“Mmm,” Harry agreed, closing his eyes.
“Up with you, then,” Remus said, getting a hand under Harry’s arm. “I don’t think you want to spend tomorrow morning with a stiff neck and a sore throat from sleeping in the hall.”
Harry opened one eye. “Sore throat?”
“From answering all the questions the Pride’s bound to ask,” Danger clarified.
Harry smiled tiredly and let Remus help him up. As Danger rose too, Remus eyed their respective heights. Sirius was right, he said silently. Or if not right, then awfully close.
You think I hadn’t noticed? Danger’s voice was simultaneously tender and annoyed, one of those combinations only mothers could pull off. He’s the first, but I doubt he’ll be the last. Even Hermione might make my height in the end.
Remus shrugged, letting Harry lean on him. We’ll see. Meet you upstairs.
Aletha and Danger hugged Harry once more, and Sirius rumpled his hair and rubbed Harry’s scar with his thumb. “That’s enough out of you for one night,” he told it sternly, making them all smile. “Sleep well, Greeneyes.”
In the bedroom, Harry lay down, took one deep breath, and slumped into the loose-limbed oblivion all parents knew. Such an obedient cub, Remus thought, drawing the sheet over Harry. When he wants to be.
He bent and kissed Harry’s forehead, directly over his scar. “I love you, Harry-kins,” he whispered. “Stay out of trouble in your dreams.”
Though if you stayed out of trouble anywhere, you just wouldn’t be you.
xXxXx
Corona Gamp came awake all at once, her heartbeat sounding in her ears.
She was in a strange place, surrounded by strange people, about to be asked to take part in a war whose last battle had been fought when she was a child, a war that her only living relatives didn’t believe was beginning again.
But I am free.
The thought was heady. No more balls, no more endless days in the house, no more tedious etiquette and deportment. She didn’t expect barbarism, exactly, but she’d had a few Muggleborn acquaintances – despite Salazar Slytherin’s attitude towards Muggleborns, some of them still entered Hogwarts every year with enough ambition and drive to warrant their Sorting into his House – and she knew that the dry formality espoused by pureblood society had died out almost everywhere else.
Politeness is still expected, but the endless rituals are all but gone. And women are not expected to breed heirs. They marry and have children when it is right for them and for their spouses, not when their family requires it.
For that alone, she blessed the fate that had sent Sirius Black to her. She liked children, but at a distance, and had no desire to bear them herself. It was an attitude she had learned early to keep a secret.
But now she no longer needed secrets.
She had escaped.
She only wished that her sister could have come with her.
Maybe she will find her own courage someday.
And with that hope, Corona had to be content.
The guest bedroom she’d been given was on the first floor, and as she stepped into the hall, a burst of giggles told her she wasn’t alone. A closed door near the stairs was easily identifiable as the source of the laughter. At least two girls, probably more. I think there were four last night...
She descended the stairs to the main floor, then again into the basement kitchen, where a house-elf was stirring a pot of porridge and a red-haired, motherly woman was frying eggs. Several people looked up from their food and nodded to her or tossed her “Good morning”s. Corona answered in kind and slid onto one of the benches, trying to match names with faces. There had been a lot of introductions the night before, and she wasn’t sure she remembered everyone...
“Miss?” said a squeaky voice at her elbow.
Corona turned. The house-elf, dressed – dressed? – in a small pink blouse and skirt, was offering her a bowl of porridge. “Thank you,” she said automatically, accepting the food. The house-elf bobbed a curtsey and returned to the stove.
Add it to the list of things that are not as they seem.
Corona returned to scanning the table. Sirius’ wife, Aletha, sat next to Danger at the end of the other bench, their conversation laced with gestures using the hands not occupied by utensils. Beside the women sat a man whose remaining hair was as red as the cook’s, finishing a piece of toast in between sips of coffee.
Weasleys. I have heard the name, but never met them. She smiled to herself, blowing on a spoonful of porridge. Of course not. They are far too nice to be acceptable to my... former circle of acquaintances.
On her own bench, Remus Lupin sat at the far end, across from his wife. A tiny frisson ran down Corona’s spine at the sight of him. His ultimately successful bid for custody of a child had made him notorious among purebloods. The only reason the young wizards had not organized a werewolf hunt, or the older ones protested in more civilized terms, was that the only child officially involved was Muggleborn. Had any pureblood child been included in the custody request, Corona doubted the family would have got off so easily.
And yet a pureblood child is intimately involved, and lives in the household...
She shrugged. It is no longer my problem.
And Sirius was quite right about his friend’s deportment and social presence... when they are acting like themselves, that is.
Corona let her eyes travel to Sirius himself, sitting beside Lupin and wandlessly vanishing his plateful of cooked breakfast. Her suspicions from the season had been confirmed; the Sirius Black everyone had seen at the dances and parties was a veneer over the real man. She had been one of the only ones to see past the façade, to see what Sirius concealed.
And he’s so much more than they demand of their young men... he can fight, but he can also love, and he loves life in general, and his own life in particular...
Sitting closest to her though still two or three seats away, a young man about her own age absently poked at a sausage with his fork. A few scars marked his pale gold skin, a few threads of white touched his black hair, but if he’d had a good story to explain that away – fighting a dragon single-wanded, perhaps, or acquiring phoenix feathers to sell – he would have been entirely acceptable to any girl in Corona’s world.
Strange how we care about ancestry in one way and not in another. As long as his ancestors were magical, no one would ask from what country they came. Especially when the answer is so obviously China.
His face was familiar, too. Obviously, from his age, they’d been at Hogwarts together, though he hadn’t been a Slytherin or she would have known him.
I even think I remember his house – Hufflepuff – but I cannot think of his name...
As if he had read her mind, the young man turned to look at her, met her eyes, and smiled. It was a welcoming smile, friendly and open.
No one would ever smile like that where I come from. It would look contrived if they tried.
The young man scooted closer to Corona and offered her his hand. “Brian Li,” he said. “In case you don’t remember.”
Corona clasped the hand gratefully. “Corona Gamp, and thank you. I was wondering how to ask without appearing ridiculous.”
“You met a lot of people last night. I was in the same situation a few weeks ago. It can be overwhelming, and one friendly face makes a world of difference.”
“Yes.” Corona consciously relaxed her shoulders. “I think we went to school together,” she said. “Were you in my year?”
“I think I must have been, because I remember seeing you. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs didn’t have many classes together, though, so you likely wouldn’t remember me.”
Corona grimaced. “I was trained to regard anyone I hadn’t known from childhood as beneath my notice, Mr. Li,” she said. “I hope to escape my family’s grasp, but it will take time.”
“Call me Brian. And you’ll have company along the way. Not that my family has unrealistic and damaging expectations of me, but much of the rest of the world does.” Brian shifted nervously in his seat.
“Is there any particular reason?” Corona inquired, though a sudden suspicion came to her. A scarred man, graying prematurely, of whom the world had bad expectations...
Lupin is famous from the custody case, and a famous man cannot do undercover work. In fact, I could see how some werewolves – the ones who do act like the monsters in the bedtime stories I was told as a child – would resent and hate him for what he has done. But someone obscure, someone seemingly beneath notice, might be accepted more easily among them.
“I think that I understand,” said Corona, breaking into Brian’s half-coherent attempts to explain. “Are you... like Mr. Lupin?”
“Yes.” Brian gave a half-smile. “Or maybe I should say that I want to be like him someday. He gave me hope nearly a year ago when I saw no reason to hold onto it anymore. When he came to me himself and asked if I wanted to be a part of this...” The smile grew slightly. “I suppose I do hero-worship him, but there are worse people to do that with.”
“Yes,” Corona said surely. “Many worse.”
xXxXx
Don’t look now, said Aletha’s hands to Sirius, but something’s happening over there. A flickered finger indicated the other end of the table.
Sirius allowed time for two more swallows of tea before turning his head enough to see what Aletha meant.
At the end of the long bench, Corona was talking earnestly with Brian Li, both of their breakfasts forgotten.
Looks like good news, Sirius signed back. I like good news.
So do I. Aletha finished the sign by pressing two fingers to her lips and blowing the kiss towards Sirius. “I need to go, or I’ll be late for work,” she said aloud, rising. “I think I’ve taken as much time off as a brand-new Healer can without incurring true anger among the powers that be.”
“But you’ll find other ways to annoy them,” Danger said. “I know you.”
Aletha sighed. “I never mean that to happen,” she said. “It just does.”
“Amazing how that works,” Remus said blandly, scraping up the last of his eggs. “Have a good day, Letha.”
“Thank you, Remus, you too. And may you have an interesting day,” Aletha added to Danger. “In the Chinese sense of the word.”
“Huh?” Danger said to Aletha’s retreating back.
Sirius swallowed a mouthful. “Chinese curse,” he said. “May you live in interesting times.”
“Oh.” Danger made a face. “How come I get the curse? Remus was just as rude.”
“I’ve learned to finesse it,” Remus said. “You, my love, are still the blunt instrument type, as often as I’ve tried to teach you a little tact.”
Danger snorted. “You? Tact?”
“Better than me,” Sirius said, standing up to clear his place. “I’m an all or nothing bloke. Either I’m full-on charming and socially graceful – which I hate – or I’m a slob.”
“Too easy,” said Danger, shaking her head. “Not taking it.”
Remus applauded lightly.
xXxXx
Walking the perimeter of Hogwarts grounds, Albus Dumbledore had to admit he was well satisfied with the new wards. No hostile magic would enter these grounds unless it was so overwhelmingly large that the castle itself would not be left standing.
I doubt even Voldemort has that much magic at his disposal.
Better still, they had been able to tie the wards directly to the magic of the castle. Unless someone drained all of Hogwarts’ magic, the castle would power its own wards.
Now as long as none of the “unless” clauses come to pass...
But they would not. He was determined about that.
Besides, only someone with a legitimate tie to the castle and the correct bloodline is able to tap into the magic of Hogwarts, or indeed do anything directly with it at all. I am only allowed to do a few small things because I am Headmaster. And Hogwarts itself is the only place where Voldemort could likely find enough magic to breach the Hogwarts wards.
He smiled. I feel safe in saying that, as long as we maintain our vigilance, our students will be as safe this year as they permit us to make them.
xXxXx
Harry woke up with a slight feeling of potion-head, but it started dissipating as he got ready for the day and disappeared altogether over breakfast, which Winky was keeping hot for the Pride.
Not just me. The Pride.
And when I woke up last night, the Pack-parents were there.
I don’t care where we are, we’re together again.
But unlike Corona Gamp, he did know where they were, and his dim memories of the place were coming out of hiding. He didn’t miss Kreacher (currently sulking in his den under the water tank), but he wished Moony had left the portrait of Padfoot’s mum intact. It might have been fun to see her reactions to the people currently using her house.
Then again, bursting people’s eardrums doesn’t count as fun the last time I checked.
The Pride gave Harry the guided tour of the house after breakfast. There were three floors above the main one, not counting the attic, and many of the bedrooms were in use. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley slept on the third floor, along with both sets of Pack-parents and the Weasley twins. Harry and the male half of the Pride were on the second floor, with Brian Li a few doors down, and Bill and Charlie shared a room at the end of the hall, though that would change in the middle of August when Charlie married Tonks (the newlyweds would be swapping with the twins, and Bill would get his own room on the first floor).
“And you remember Fleur Delacour?” Ron said.
“How could I forget?” asked Harry. “What about her?”
“Gringotts is trying out having some humans as tellers, like they do in America,” Ginny said. “Fleur’s got a job there to ‘eemprove ‘er Eenglish.’”
Harry laughed at Ginny’s spot-on impression of the French girl.
“You haven’t even heard the best part yet,” Ron said. “Bill ran into her at work...”
“She probably saw the red hair and freckles and thought of you,” said Draco. “But an older, cooler, and much more available you.”
“No way!” Harry laughed again. “Fleur Delacour’s dating your brother?”
“Well, not dating exactly,” Hermione said. “At least he says not. Just private English lessons.” Her eyes turned naughty. “He’s probably teaching her how to say la foot.”
Draco grimaced. “That’s nasty.”
“What?” said Neville. “It’s just a word.”
“In French, it’s a nasty word.”
“Do we want to know what it means?”
“It means what you probably think it means.”
“But I don’t know what it means.”
“It starts with the same letter, does that help?”
“Enough,” Harry said loudly. “Let’s just keep going, please.”
The other room of interest on the second floor (besides the bathroom) was the Pride’s room, now with its walls bare and ready for repainting. Harry’s imagination furnished it with carpet and cushions, table and chairs, and he nodded in satisfaction. It would make a good den.
The first floor had the girls’ bedroom and the guest rooms, where Corona Gamp was staying. It also had a drawing room, which Harry avoided on principle. Anything that smelled like that had to be toxic.
“Mum was going to make us clean up in there,” Ron said as they returned to the main floor. “But she managed to talk Winky out of the basket once we told her Kreacher was under orders not to come out again, so we’re off the hook as long as we can find something else productive to do.” His manner suggested the last few words were a direct quote.
The front door rattled, and locks and bolts began undoing themselves. Harry dropped his hand unobtrusively to his wand, and noticed out of the corner of his eye the rest of the Pride doing the same, the Pack’s cubs checking their daggers as well, Meghan backing herself against the wall where she could see...
The door opened, and Professor McGonagall stepped in. Harry tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His mental concept of his Head of House included robes as a matter of course; she looked distinctly odd to him in a dress, and from the way she was moving, she felt odd as well. She had a large bag slung over one arm.
“Good morning, Professor,” Hermione said as McGonagall closed the door. The rest of the Pride picked up their cue and echoed her.
“Good morning.” McGonagall set down her bag carefully. “Are your parents downstairs?”
“Mostly,” Harry said. “Some of them left already.”
“Mostly will do. I’ll leave you eight to deal with this.” McGonagall nodded to the bag, a hint of a smile on her face. “I think you can handle it.”
Harry watched McGonagall to the stairs, then turned to look at the bag, feeling a trace of worry. “She wouldn’t bring in anything dangerous,” he said. “Would she?”
Meghan peered into the bag and giggled. “Depends on what you mean by dangerous,” she said, and pulled the flap open.
“Master Draco!” A blur of color impacted with Draco’s legs at high speed. Draco stumbled backward and would have fallen if Ron hadn’t steadied him. Hermione covered a smile.
“Hi, Dobby,” said Harry, grinning openly.
“Hello, Harry Potter sir!” said Dobby, letting go of Draco’s legs to show Harry his usual beaming smile. “And Miss Neenie, and Mistress Meghan...” He turned slowly. “...and Master Neville, and Miss Luna, and Mister and Miss Wheezy!”
“How come he gets my name wrong and not anyone else’s?” Ron asked.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Hermione snapped. “He can talk, you know.”
Ron sat down, putting himself almost at Dobby’s eye level. “Dobby, you can call me Ron,” he said. “I’d prefer it to Wheezy.”
“Dobby can do that, sir,” Dobby said cheerfully. “And what should Dobby call miss?” he asked, turning to Ginny.
“Ginny is fine, or Miss. That’s what Winky calls me. Speaking of which–” She raised her voice. “Winky! Come here, please!”
“Miss Ginny is too kind,” Dobby mumbled, staring at the floor, as Winky appeared with a loud crack.
“Miss is calling?” the female house-elf began, and then caught sight of Dobby. Her brown eyes widened even farther (which Harry hadn’t thought was possible), and she started to take a step forward before turning back to Ginny. “I is sorry, Miss,” she said, looking up at Ginny appealingly. “I is sorry for having troubles with Kreacher, but please, I is not needing help here, I is not complaining about the work...”
“No, of course you’re not,” Ginny said quickly, sitting down herself. The rest of the Pride did the same. “Dobby isn’t here because we don’t think you can do the work, Winky. He’s here because he wanted to come.” She waved to Dobby. “Ask him yourself.”
Winky looked at Ginny doubtfully. “Miss is wanting me to ask Dobby?”
“If you want to. It’s up to you.”
“Actually, why don’t you both take a little while off?” Harry said. Nine pairs of eyes centered on him. He swallowed inconspicuously and kept going. “Winky, you can show Dobby around the house, and you two can catch up. We can take care of whatever needs to get done this morning.”
Winky swelled with indignation. “Winky is not being such a bad house-elf as all that!” she said shrilly, glaring at Harry. “I is not going off with Dobby and leaving my little master and mistress to be doing my work!”
“Not even if they ask you to?” said Ginny.
“Master and Miss is being mixed-up,” Winky said with dignity. “I is thinking it is because they is never meeting a proper house-elf before they is getting me.” She sighed. “And I is hardly proper, with clothes and all...”
“Ah-ah,” Ron said quickly, holding up his hand. “You’re not allowed, remember? No more beating yourself up over that.”
Winky crossed her arms and looked down her nose at Ron. “And Master Ron is not allowed to be doing my work, when I is a perfectly healthy house-elf who is able to do it her own self,” she said firmly. “That is what it is meaning to be a master.”
“No, I don’t think so,” said Neville, drawing all eyes to him this time. “My family has a house-elf – his name’s Tapper – and that’s not how he acts. He cleans up the big messes in the house, but he expects me to keep my bedroom clean myself in between times. He’s never been free, and I think if Mum or Dad tried to free him he wouldn’t go.”
“And we’ve always done chores at our house, so we’re used to it,” Meghan added. “We never had a house-elf.”
“Nor did we,” said Luna. “House-elves like to do work, but that doesn’t mean they should work all the time. Just like human beings like to rest and relax, but they shouldn’t do that all the time. It’s bad for them. People shouldn’t always do what they like.”
Hermione signed something to Ron, who cleared his throat. “Winky, this is an order,” he said. “Take the rest of the morning off and do something you like. Something other than work,” he added quickly. “There has to be something else you like.”
Winky rocked back and forth on her feet, looking indecisively from Ron to Dobby, who was sitting between Meghan and Neville clutching his hands together. “Master Ron is truly not angry with me?” she asked in a tiny voice. “Nor any of my family?”
“You’re terrific, Winky,” Ron said. “We’re not mad at you.”
“We want you to be happy,” added Ginny. “Aren’t you and Dobby friends?”
“Yes, miss... but...”
“No buts,” Ginny said briskly. “Go have a nice morning with your friend, and we’ll see you at lunch. Not before.” She made shooing motions with both hands.
After one more disbelieving look, Winky crossed the circle to Dobby’s side. Dobby sprang to his feet and seized Winky’s hand, and with a loud crack, both house-elves disappeared.
One second of silence ensued, then Harry caught Ginny’s eye and they both started snickering. Ron lost control next, then Draco, then Hermione and Meghan, and Neville and Luna fell prey a moment later.
Mrs. Weasley, coming downstairs to see where Winky had disappeared to, found the Pride lying on the floor of the front hall, laughing helplessly.
xXxXx
Back in his office, Dumbledore returned to his thoughts about the proposal he’d received the night before, regarding Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort.
I must say, I would not likely have thought of it myself. But it is perfectly characteristic of Severus. The trouble is, it would also be perfectly characteristic of Voldemort.
But no. I trust Severus, and we stand to gain more from this move than Voldemort does. He sighed. Though if it backfires, Harry will be left holding the wand.
Then he smiled at himself. And you know what to do about it if things come to that, you old fool. Simply insist that Harry and Remus carry out their blood-bonding at once. Lupus is no light matter, but if Voldemort batters at Harry’s mind without protection, Harry will be destroyed just as surely as if a disease took his life. And with the proper potions, the symptoms can be controlled and kept from progressing.
What a pity we cannot extend magical healing to Muggles...
Dumbledore regarded the endless complexities and troubles of the world with a sigh.
I know that an offer may someday be extended to me by virtue of certain words that I have spoken, an offer that many would die for. He smiled wryly. But I think that I will likely refuse it.
One hundred fifty years, give or take, are long enough for me.
xXxXx
As promised, the Pride took Winky’s place until lunch, disinfecting the drawing room Harry’d been so eager to avoid earlier that same morning. A few people slipped away for short periods, but there was a general feeling that if they had to do this, they might as well do it together and have the stories to tell later. The twins got roped in as well, though they managed to get something out of the experience by sneaking a few of the doxies that had infested the curtains.
“Just one of these can produce almost half a cup of venom every week,” George told Harry. “You just have to know how to milk it.”
“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” Harry said, looking warily at the tiny black thing in Fred’s hand. “And don’t tell me what you’re doing with it, either.”
“If you insist, oh wise financial backer,” said Fred, pocketing the doxy. “Probably better not to know what you’re eating, anyway.” He lowered his voice. “While we’re on the subject, there was some talk last night about a deal being cut...”
“Information for certain controlled substances,” said George, closing in on the other side.
Harry held up his hand. “We’ll talk terms after lunch,” he said. “Hold it until then.”
The Black family tapestry on the opposite wall occupied the Pride’s attention for a time when the curtains were de-doxified (Fred and George had vanished immediately when their presence was no longer required). “Look, here’s me,” Draco said, pointing. “So I guess this is where Mother used to be, and Aunt Andy.” He was looking at two small burns near the bottom, next to the embroidered name Bellatrix.
“Excuse me,” said Neville, and hurried out of the room.
“Here’s where Padfoot was,” said Harry, pointing at the burn under the names Orion and Walburga, next to Regulus. “If his mum knew we were here... I can see her now...”
“No, you can’t,” said Luna. “Mr. Moony burned up her portrait.”
Harry, about to argue, caught the wicked twinkle in Luna’s eyes and groaned instead. “I can’t believe I almost fell for that.”
“Sometimes you do fall for it,” said Luna. “You’re very funny then.”
Harry sighed. “Remind me to get a girlfriend that doesn’t like to make jokes at my expense,” he said to Ron and Draco. “One in the family is enough.”
Neville came back into the room, carrying a small plant in a pot. “Uncle Algie sent me this for my birthday,” he said. “It came this morning, and I had to open it to take care of it. It’s a Mimbulus mimbletonia, from Algeria.”
“Is it sick?” Ron asked. Harry couldn’t blame him. The plant seemed to be covered in small boils, which were all quivering slightly.
“No, that’s how it always looks.” Neville looked around the room, then set the plant on an end table and started dragging it towards the tapestry. Harry quickly grabbed the other end of the table and found Ginny beside him, and Meghan beside Neville. Together, the four lifted the table and set it, and the Mimbulus mimbletonia, in front of the tapestry.
“All right, everyone take cover,” Neville said, taking his quill out of his pocket. “If the book is right about it, it spurts pretty far.”
“I generally take cover anytime the word ‘spurts’ is involved,” Hermione said, backing away and crouching behind the large sofa. Ginny and Meghan joined her there, and Ron wedged himself in on the end. Luna and Draco took refuge behind a moldering armchair, and Harry knelt behind a wing chair and peered around the side. Neville was kneeling as well, most of his body actually under the table. Just his one arm was above it, with the quill in his hand, reaching up to jab the Mimbulus mimbletonia...
Harry ducked as thick, dark green liquid squirted from every boil on the plant.
Well, that’s not so bad.
Then he inhaled, and choked.
From behind the couch came the screech of a profoundly unhappy cat, echoed more loudly a moment later.
“What. Is. That?” said Draco through his nose, which he was holding.
“It’s what they make the stuff in Gobstones out of,” said Neville, emerging from under the table. “It’s called Stinksap.”
“I can’t imagine why,” said Ron thickly. “It’s worse than Fred and George’s socks. Put together.”
“Worse than yours, too,” Ginny retorted. “Neville, that’s awful.”
“I thought they deserved it,” said Neville, looking with distaste at the Stinksap-soaked names on the tapestry. “I just wish I could do it to the real people. To Bellatrix Lestrange, and her husband, and his brother.”
“No, you don’t,” said Draco, standing up. “That would mean they were out of Azkaban, and we really don’t want them out of Azkaban. It’s where they belong.”
“Weren’t there four people?” Meghan asked.
“Yes, but the fourth one is dead. He was Mr. Crouch’s son.”
“Oh, right.” Meghan pinched her own nose shut, looking around the room. “And now who gets to clean this up?”
“I’ll do it.” Neville drew his wand. “Scourgify!”
“Wow,” said Ginny, looking around the suddenly clean room. “You do that almost as well as Mum does.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Ginny stepped out from behind the couch, Neenie the cat in the crook of one arm. “Here,” she said, handing Neenie to Ron. “Hold this.”
Ron looked down at Neenie.
Neenie looked up at Ron.
Luna developed a quiet case of the giggles.
Meghan didn’t bother with the quiet part.
xXxXx
“What was that about?” Harry asked Ginny over lunch.
“What? Oh, what I did to Ron?” Ginny shrugged. “Because I could, I guess.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah, it was pretty funny watching him just stand there. He didn’t know what to do, and neither did she.”
“Well, it’s not every day somebody hands you your friend like a parcel.” Ginny looked down the table. “I hope Dobby and Winky are all right.”
Harry stared at his sandwich while he reconstructed the logic of the conversational jump. Not every day somebody hands you your friend... all right, we went from that to small people... and from there to house-elves... there, got it. “I’m sure they’re fine,” he said, looking back up. “You and Ron told them to take the morning off, so they did. It’s barely lunchtime. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”
“Who’ll be back soon?” said a man’s voice behind them.
“Padfoot!” Harry twisted in his seat. “What’re you doing back already?”
“Figured since I live close by now, I’d come home for lunch,” Padfoot said, taking a seat beside Harry. “Hi, Ginny. Hi, everyone.”
A chorus of “Hi” floated down the table, and Meghan set down her crisps and trotted over to get a hug. “Neville sprayed Stinksap on your family tapestry,” she said.
“Way to go, Neville,” said Padfoot, throwing Neville a thumbs up.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t let me forget,” Padfoot said to Harry, Meghan, and Ginny. “Aletha and I have an announcement to make tonight at dinner.”
“A good announcement?” Meghan asked.
“Yes, Pearl, good news.” Padfoot grinned. “At least I think it is.”
A pair of snapping noises beside the table made everyone look around. “And there they are,” said Harry, gesturing to the house-elves.
“Oh, is we late?” said Winky worriedly.
“Not at all,” Ginny said quickly. “You’re just fine. Did you have a good time?”
“Oh, yes, miss!” Dobby was bouncing slightly on his feet. “Dobby and Winky had a marvelous time!”
“Where’d you go?” Harry asked.
“We is going to the attic,” Winky said, pointing upward. “We is finding many old things there, and many things that is strange and interesting...”
“And made a decision,” Dobby said strongly. “Dobby and Winky talked for a long time and made a decision.”
Winky twisted her skirt with the hand that wasn’t holding Dobby’s. Clearly, she was less than happy with this decision, whatever it was. The rest of the Pride, scenting something interesting in the air, had stopped eating to watch.
Dobby whispered something to Winky, then slid his hand out of hers and marched down the length of the table, stopping beside Draco. “Master Draco,” he said formally. “May Dobby speak to you a moment in private, sir?”
“Sure.” Draco swung his legs over the bench and headed for the pantry door, Dobby behind him.
Padfoot snapped his fingers. “Kreacher’s still in his den, isn’t he?” he asked.
“He should be,” said Meghan. “I told him to stay in the basement, and not to speak unless he had something nice to say.”
Padfoot snickered. “That’ll show him. It must drive him up the wall to have to take orders from you, Pearl – but there’s nothing he can do about it, you’re Black by blood, and he’s bound to the family... still, if Dobby’s talking about what I think Dobby’s talking about, I might have an idea...”
Draco emerged from the pantry, Dobby behind him. “I have an idea,” he said. “Dobby’d like to stay here as the Order’s official house-elf – Winky would stay too, of course, since the Weasleys aren’t at the Burrow just now – but that would leave Hogwarts short, and Dobby doesn’t like that...”
Padfoot chuckled. “I think you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”
“I think I’m thinking it too,” said Harry, looking towards Kreacher’s door.
Ron grinned. “This’ll be fun.”
Padfoot cleared his throat. “Kreacher!” he called. “Come out of there!”
The door wobbled open, and Harry took as long a look as he wanted, which wasn’t very long. Kreacher hadn’t looked very good when Harry was seven, and eight years hadn’t done much for the house-elf.
At least now he’s not muttering stuff.
“Kreacher, I want you to go to Hogwarts and work with the other house-elves in the kitchens there,” Padfoot said, smiling smugly. “Don’t give anyone any lip, do what you’re told, and don’t leave unless I say you can.”
Kreacher stared furiously at Padfoot, then vanished with a crack.
“There,” Padfoot said, dusting off his hands. “That’s sorted. Dobby, pending a final decision by Albus, you’re hired.”
“Thank you, sir!” Dobby ran over to Winky and seized her hands. “Then Dobby and Winky can make their announcement right now!”
“Dobby, you is being silly,” Winky scolded. “Masters is not wanting to hear about house-elves’ affairs.”
“But we do,” Hermione said quickly. “Please, tell us.”
“Yeah, come on,” Ron said, putting down his sandwich. “What’s up with you two?”
Dobby took a deep breath. “Dobby and Winky – with Winky’s masters’ permission, of course – are going to jump the broomstick!”
The girls of the Pride shrieked collectively. “You’re getting married!” Hermione cried. “Congratulations!”
“Somehow I don’t think they’ll say no,” said Padfoot over the noise, grinning. “Cheers, you two.”
“Must be something about the house,” said Ron, looking up fearfully as if expecting the ceiling to collapse.
“No, Charlie and Tonks got engaged before Headquarters was ever here,” Draco said. “I think it’s just something that happens sometimes.”
“Yes, I think you’re right.” Padfoot looked around the room. “Well, I suppose I can anticipate our announcement a little to you. It’ll cut down on the noise at dinner.”
Harry looked at his godfather suspiciously. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m not doing anything. Yet.” Padfoot chuckled. “I’ll be doing something in about four weeks, but I’m not doing anything yet.”
“All right, what will you be doing in four weeks?”
“Accounting for species differences, the same thing Dobby will. Though I think...”
Whatever Padfoot thought was drowned by renewed shrieking from the girls.
xXxXx
The twins, who had been closeted in their room since the drawing room curtains were finished, emerged to eat, and to congratulate Dobby and Winky. Then ten Hogwarts students trooped upstairs to the Pride’s room.
“Where’d Mr. Li go?” Harry asked everyone in general. “And the witch who came with Padfoot, what’s her name, Corona?”
“Out,” Hermione said. “Nobody’s looking for them, so they can. And I think Miss Gamp wanted to learn more about Muggles and how they live. She’s pureblooded.”
“Oh.”
Chairs were transported in from various of the bedrooms, the door was locked, and serious negotiations ensued. The twins, it seemed, were developing a full line of trick sweets, prank items, and other things necessary to run a fully-stocked joke shop. A few of the questions the Pride asked made them look at each other in surprise, and Ron asked to see one of the items demonstrated, causing Fred to Apparate upstairs for it.
“We haven’t got it working right yet,” George cautioned as Ron examined the wristwatch at close range. “I wouldn’t...”
A squirt of greenish liquid shot from the watch and up Ron’s nose. Ron sneezed and started coughing.
“Sorry,” George said, retrieving the watch from where Ron had dropped it. “The idea was to make it do the same thing Gobstones do, only have it be changeable, so that you could get someone with nasty stuff one time and sweet the next, so they never know what’s coming. But we can’t get it to spray accurately at more than six inches range, and people don’t read wristwatches at six inches.”
“If you want something really nasty, I can get you some undiluted Stinksap,” said Neville. “My supply’s limited, though, and I’d want to trade for that too...”
Ron wiped his eyes on the tissue Hermione had given to him and held out his hand. “Give me that back,” he said hoarsely.
“Your funeral.” George handed it over and started whispering with Fred, who had looked intrigued by Neville’s revelation.
Ron stopped the watch, popped its back off and used his wand to pop a connection off one gear and stick it on another, then twiddled the knob on the side and strapped the watch onto his wrist. “Look what time it is,” he said, holding it out.
Automatically, Fred looked.
Green liquid sprayed into his left eye.
“You fixed it!” George said. “How’d you do that?”
Ron shrugged. “You had the spray regulator on the wrong gear. Not a big deal.”
Hermione handed Fred another tissue. “Close your mouth,” she said to George.
Eventually, Pride and twins came to an agreement. Every week, each member of the Pride would receive what the twins determined to be one Galleon’s worth of goods. Neville would barter separately for whatever volume of Stinksap he could produce that the twins wanted, and Ron after each item that he fixed or improved. In return, the Pride would keep the twins updated on what they learned from the Order meetings Hermione attended, unless they were specifically told not to.
Something jogged loose in Harry’s brain at that. As soon as the meeting adjourned, he went looking for Danger.
xXxXx
“Last night? Oh, of course.” Danger rolled up the scroll she was reading, tucked it back into the cubby of the desk, and stood up. “Let’s get out of the War Room, shall we? It depresses me.”
“This is the War Room?” Harry looked around the study. “Cool.”
“Glad you think so.” Danger led the way out of the room and into a living room across the way, where she plopped down on a dusty window seat. Harry pulled up a chair and straddled it, leaning on the back.
Danger waved away the cloud of dust and leaned back, basking in the sun that came in through the dirty glass. “Now, what is it?”
“Last night. What’s here that’s so valuable? You said it wasn’t a secret.”
“It’s not.” Danger laughed, then sobered. “But I thought you knew what the Pack values most of all.”
“Each other,” Harry said promptly.
“Exactly.”
Harry frowned. “But I don’t see...”
And then he did.
“Hostages,” he said, his hands tightening around the top of the chair. “He doesn’t want things. He wants people.”
Danger nodded somberly.
“He thinks he can make me do what he wants by threatening people I care about.” Harry stared at the glass in the window. “Can he?”
“I don’t know,” Danger said softly. “Can he?”
Harry opened his hand and let the sunlight play across it. He tried to imagine someone he loved in trouble, in the hands of the Death Eaters.
Thoughts came in flashes:
Danger unconscious in the night, lying abandoned on the ground and shivering in fever, while far away Moony howled in fury and threw his werewolf body against the silver bars of a cage...
Letha held by the Petrificus, her eyes filled with tears of rage, while Padfoot writhed on the ground before her, twisting in and out of dog form as the Cruciatus racked him...
Luna in Starwing’s form and Ron as Redwing, tied to a perch side by side, eyes dull and feathers broken, ignoring the meat jeering Death Eaters tossed towards them...
Meghan lying across Hermione, both of them far too still, Hermione’s arms and legs torn savagely and her wounds no longer bleeding...
Neville, blank-eyed under the Imperius, holding back a struggling Draco as Lucius Malfoy readied his wand...
Ginny, her face slack and her movements jerky, one in a vast army of Inferi...
And why does she get to come all by herself?
Harry snapped back to the moment. He was safe, so was everyone else. He was in number twelve, Grimmauld Place, watching the sunlight on his palm, with Danger waiting for his answer.
“I don’t know either,” he admitted. “I really don’t.”
Author Notes:
Sorry about the creepy images, but Harry’s got far too good an imagination. I promise, nothing he saw will actually happen. At least, not exactly as he saw it. There’s still plenty of room for authorial interpretation in there...
And this whole chapter took place over less than one story-day! Wow, I’m getting long-winded... but time speeds up after the "birthday party" and Danger’s prophecy for fifth year, both next chapter, so don’t despair. As always, thanks for reading!