Living with Danger
Chapter 18: Crossing of the Paths
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 18: Crossing of the Paths
"Mummy, me up."
"Not now, Ginny darling. FRED! GEORGE! GET BACK HERE!"
Ginny Weasley made a face and toddled over to her biggest brother. "Bill, me up," she said, holding her arms out.
"Hey there, Gin-Gin. You want up? OK." Bill hoisted Ginny into his arms. "You’re getting big," he said, pretending to stagger under her weight. "Too big for me!" He put her back on the sidewalk.
Ginny pouted. "Cha’lie, me up!"
"Go ‘way, Ginny." The ten-year-old held his little sister away from him with his foot and continued looking at the model broomsticks in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, ignoring her scream of rage.
Mrs. Weasley came bustling back along the sidewalk, dragging her five-year-olds behind her. "Oh, now where’s Ron got to?" she said distractedly. "And Percy?"
"He took Ron to the loo. Mum, why don’t you let me take everyone to the playground?" Bill suggested. "You can come get us when you’re done."
"Thank you, Bill, you’re my angel..." Mrs. Weasley kissed her oldest son and thought with pride of his second year at Hogwarts, for which he would be leaving the very next day. As she watched, her seven-year-old son emerged from the nearby public toilet with his three-year-old brother in tow. They went to join their brothers and sister, and the whole cavalcade set off for the Diagon Alley playground.
No woman in all of England is as blessed as I am, Molly Weasley thought, smiling fondly. But blessings aren’t getting the shopping done.
She hurried off to the secondhand robe shop. There was still a lot to do.
xXxXx
At the playground, Bill pushed Ginny in the baby swing while Fred and George seesawed. Charlie and Percy started the carousel going, and Ron went to dig in the sandbox.
They had the place to themselves to begin with, but that didn’t last long. A woman came around the corner with a baby in a sling and a little kid by each hand — probably about Ron’s age, Bill thought, looking them over with an experienced older brother’s eye. A boy and a girl, both with dark blond hair, and pretty cute, too. Might be twins, or just friends.
The newcomers ran over to the sandbox and got in as the woman sat down on a nearby bench. Bill listened with half an ear, ready to head off trouble if Ron started anything. He’d been argumentative lately...
"Hi," the other little boy said.
"Hi," said Ron.
"What you makin’?"
"Castle."
"C’we help?"
"Okay."
And that was it. Bill ran beneath Ginny to the accompaniment of her giggles and turned around to get a look. The three children were peacefully packing sand onto a large mound. Now and again Ron would direct one of the other two where to put a handful.
Bill gave the woman, now with a blanket over her shoulder, a small wave, and received one in return. Ducking under Ginny again, he failed to see Fred and George depart the seesaw with purposeful looks at one another.
xXxXx
Harry noticed the two same-looking boys trying to sneak up on them. "Who they?" he asked the red-haired boy, pointing at them.
The boy turned around. "My b’others," he said, looking a little scared. "They mean. I go on the swings."
"We go too," Hermione said, and the three of them hurried over to the swing set.
xXxXx
George looked at Fred. In their unspoken twin language, he said, Aw, nuts.
We’ll get him another time, Fred answered.
xXxXx
The red-haired boy took the swing on the very end of the line. Hermione took the next one, and Harry took the one next to the baby swing, where a little girl was getting pushed by a much bigger boy.
"She you sister?" he asked the boy on the swing, over Hermione’s head.
"Yeah. Ev’yone wif red hair is my fam’ly."
Wow, Harry thought. Everyone on the playground, except him and Neenie, had red hair. Big family. Lots of boys.
He shrugged. Families were all different. Nobody else had a Pack, anyway.
And it was silly to be thinking when there was a perfectly good swing he was just sitting on.
xXxXx
"They were good as gold," Aletha said later that day. "No trouble at all. I want to bless whoever got that playground put in."
"A Muggle-style playground in Diagon Alley?" Sirius asked. "That’s new since I was a kid."
"It went in about five years ago," Remus recalled.
"As an educational tool for all of England’s magical children, that they may learn how their Muggle counterparts play," Aletha said pompously, "and grow in understanding."
Sirius looked at her oddly. "Please tell me you’re quoting something."
"The dedication plaque. I read it over while I was there, and remembered it for the entertainment value. Did they have what I wanted at the Apothecary, Remus? I’m sorry I shoved it off on you, but I wanted to get the little ones outside before they destroyed the place."
"Oh, trust me, I wanted them out as much as you did," Remus said, "if only so we wouldn’t have to buy everything they broke. And yes, they did. I put the bag on your kitchen counter."
"Thank you."
"I could use a little help in here," Danger called from the front room.
Don’t tell me. You have snakes on your legs.
Why, however did you guess?
Sarcasm doesn’t become you. We’ll be right in.
The longer you dawdle, the longer it is before I can start dinner.
Point taken.
"Come on, Sirius, we have to rescue a fair lady from dreadful serpents."
"But I’m comfortable here." Sirius was leaning over Aletha’s shoulder and watching Meghan nurse.
"Let me clarify — the fair lady is holding our dinner hostage."
"Here I come."
He needs a T-shirt that says "Will do anything for food".
Darn you, woman, don’t make me laugh at my best friend.
Why not? He makes you laugh at him on a daily basis.
That’s different. And don’t ask me how.
Fine.
"And what have you two been up to today?" Sirius asked, coming out of the hallway into the front room and scooping Harry off Danger’s foot.
"We played," Harry said, hugging his godfather.
"We played wif a boy," Hermione added as Remus picked her up.
"He had owange hair, anna lotta b’others," Harry finished.
"Orange hair and a lot of brothers?" Sirius repeated. "Hey, Letha," he called down the hall, "who’d the cubs play with at the playground?"
"Looked like Weasleys to me," Aletha called back. "Red hair and lots of them. Why?"
"Just wondering." Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair, back to its natural black within the four walls of the Den. "What was the boy’s name, Harry?"
"I dunno." Harry reached up and started messing with Sirius’ hair. This had a more noticeable effect than Sirius’ efforts, because Harry’s hair always looked as if it had just been mussed up.
"Do the Weasleys have any daughters?" Danger asked suddenly.
Sirius frowned. "I’m not sure. They’re known for only ever having boys, but I thought I heard about a girl Weasley a while back. Before... everything started happening." He still had trouble talking about the events of two years past.
Aletha came through the hall into the front room, Meghan still attached, and sat down. Harry scampered over to her and climbed up beside her. "No point in me staying in the kitchen, if everyone else is in here," she said, putting her arm around Harry.
"Letha, was it just boys at the playground, or were there any girls? Danger’s wondering if the Weasleys have any daughters."
"I think the youngest one was a girl... Yes, I remember now, the Daily Prophet did a write-up about her when she was born, because the Weasleys hadn’t had a girl in their family in so long. Her name’s something unusual, I can’t think of it right now. It’ll come back to me at two in the morning. Any particular reason, Danger?"
Danger shrugged. "Not really. Just wondering."
For true? Remus asked her.
No. But nothing concrete yet, either.
Share anyway?
All right. Remember "Black to red and red to brown", and the redheads we dreamed of at the wedding?
The ones who danced with Harry and Hermione, yes... ah. I think I see. If that means what it seems to, then this boy they played with today, and his sister...
Are our children’s future partners. Their mates, if you’ll pardon the term.
Well, I’ve never heard anything but good of the Weasleys. They’re poor, but nothing’s wrong with that. With seven children, almost anyone would be. So I doubt we need to have any anxieties on that score.
And that’s assuming we’re even interpreting right. Danger sighed. Also, I have a terrible feeling we’re forgetting something important.
Remus shrugged. As Letha said, it’ll come to you at two in the morning. The only thing you’re forgetting right now is that you have a hungry Pack to feed.
Well, if that’s going to be your attitude, you can bloody well fend for yourself!
Language, language...
xXxXx
Molly Weasley was in her element, giving orders left and right.
"Fred, George, set the table, and do it right or you get no dessert. Bill, go upstairs and finish packing. Charlie, make sure Errol has fresh water. Percy, clean out your rat’s cage immediately, it’s starting to smell. Ronald, give me that back!" She seized her youngest son’s hand, which was wrapped around her wand. "You know perfectly well you’re not to touch my wand. Go in the other room and play nicely with your sister. Shoo."
The children shooed.
"Scabbers’ cage is not smelly," Percy said with annoyance as he climbed the stairs. "He’s a very clean rat."
"Mum just wanted us out from underfoot," Charlie said. "She didn’t mean it personally."
Percy pouted all the way to his room anyway.
xXxXx
As September turned into October, both Harry and Hermione started showing more interest in books. Danger took on the role of schoolteacher, sitting them down for fifteen or twenty minutes worth of lessons every day, teaching them their ABC’s, or numbers, or shapes, or whatever struck their fancy.
Neenie, in particular, took to the alphabet like a bird to the air. By mid-November, she was sitting on Remus’ lap and pointing out letters in the books he read aloud at night. Harry started doing that near Christmas, at which time Remus declared his lap off-limits while he read.
"One of them doing that is quite enough," he said. "Two is just a little much."
So Hermione and Harry began playing "reading" together, sitting with a book on both their laps and pointing out the letters to each other. It helped that many of their Christmas presents were nice big books, with letters sized for pointing out.
xXxXx
Dear Professor Dumbledore, and Hagrid,
Happy Christmas to you both. Nothing much to report — it’s been a quiet few months since that scare in August. Meghan is rolling over well and will probably be crawling soon. The older two want you to know that they drew the enclosed pictures all by themselves, for Christmas presents for both of you...
xXxXx
"Sirius, I have something to tell you," Aletha said one January morning in their bedroom.
"The last time you said that, you were pregnant."
"No, nothing like that." She laughed. "But related, I suppose."
"What is it?" Sirius said absently, scooping Meghan off the mattress and smiling at her. "Who’s my little girl? Who’s her Daddy’s little girl?" He wiggled his finger at her, coming closer and closer to her face. "Who’s my sweet little — OUCH!"
"As I was saying," Aletha said with a straight face, "I think Meghan’s teething."
xXxXx
Around Remus’ birthday, Danger noticed that the children weren’t playing reading anymore. Not that they’d given up the game, heavens no. It was just that they were no longer pretending to read.
"But they’re only three!" Remus said in surprise.
"Three and a half," Sirius corrected.
"Does it make a difference?"
"I was reading by four," Danger said. "And with the two of them to encourage each other, and the fact that we read to them pretty much every day... I’m not all that surprised, really. They’re both bright, especially verbally — their vocabularies have always been above average."
"So, they can read. That’s wonderful," Aletha said from the door. "The budding geniuses got into my makeup. Have a look."
Sirius got one look at Harry and collapsed in spasms of laughter. The little boy had tried to write his name on his face with lipstick.
Hermione had used the products more conventionally, if heavily — her whole face was covered in powder, her eyelids were an astonishing shade of blue, and her lips and cheeks bright red. Danger stared at her. "She looks like an old photo of our mother," she said, her shoulders shaking. "From when she went to a costume party once."
"What was she dressed as?" Remus asked.
Danger took a shaky breath, drew herself up, and said with dignity, "A Chinese whore."
At which point, she, and the rest of the Pack, surrendered to laughter once again.
xXxXx
The traditions of the Pack grew stronger as time went by. Every full moon, they built their den in front of the fireplace in what was now called the den room, opposite Aletha’s music room. After Remus’ change, the Pack would gather in their den and talk, about the past month and the month coming, about hopes and fears and joys and concerns. Then they would sleep, secure in one another’s company.
Special nights, whether for good or bad reasons, were also spent denning — April 14, August 17, Halloween, and Christmas Eve were all den nights. And really, one could say that the older cubs denned every night, since when Harry had three nightmares in four nights following Halloween, the Pack yielded to the inevitable and pushed the two single beds in their room together. "At least they won’t catch cold, getting in and out of bed all the time," was Aletha’s only comment. "And there’s no one here to judge us."
Meghan, of course, slept in her parents’ bed (which had charms on it so she couldn’t roll out), as she would until she was old enough for a bed of her own — "but the way this is going, she’ll probably just move in with Harry and Neenie," Sirius said. There was a crib in the room as well, just in case it was needed, but it was rarely used.
By Meghan, anyway. Hermione and Harry played in it all the time.
xXxXx
"Oh, Sirius," called Aletha’s honey-sweet voice from her kitchen. "Will you come here, please?"
"That doesn’t sound good," Remus said, looking up from his book.
"No, it doesn’t. Excuse me, cubs." Sirius got up from the sofa, where he’d been reading to Harry and Neenie. "I’ll be right back."
What is she mad about now?
"Would you care to explain why I have just been delivered a copy of the March 29 edition of Witch Weekly?" Aletha asked, waving the offending periodical at him.
"Oh, good, it’s here!" Sirius snatched the magazine from her hand and flipped to the table of contents.
"You seem very enthusiastic about something," Aletha said, looking at him oddly.
Sirius found what he was looking for. "Read that," he said, handing her back the magazine.
"Hmm. ‘The Tale of Samuel and Alison,’ by Valentina Jett." Aletha sat down and began reading. Sirius tried not to fidget, but it was hard.
I hope she likes it. I really hope she likes it. I really really hope...
It seemed like much longer than ten minutes before Aletha sighed and put the magazine aside. "That’s a nice little story," she said. "Romantic, sweet, but still believable. I especially liked the characters — they were very realistic."
"You really liked it?"
"Yes, I really liked it. Why?"
Sirius grinned at her. "I wrote it."
"You?" Aletha stared at him, open-mouthed. "I knew you were writing, but I never thought... oh, Sirius, it’s beautiful! And — wait—"
"I wrote it for you," Sirius said, wanting to spin in circles, he was so happy. "For you and about you."
"‘...a lovelier lady, in face or in deeds, none could imagine,’" Aletha read from the story. "Is that me?"
"Who else would it be?"
The magazine fell to the floor, unheeded.
xXxXx
Fear no light; his haughty show
Shall by a flower be brought low.
The flower truly speaks, O star,
Though from your thoughts her words are far.
The truth and wolf, to play their part,
Hold in their hands keys to the heart
Which longs for that it does not feel,
And needs but time and care to heal.
"What?"
"Yes, I think you speak for all of us, love," Aletha said, pushing the parchment across the table to Danger. "What?"
"If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you," Danger said, sighing.
"Wait, let me see that again." Danger passed the parchment back to Sirius. He perused it. "This looks like direct address," he said, tapping at a portion of the third line. "‘O star.’ Anyone know any stars?"
Remus laughed. "Always miss the obvious, don’t you, Padfoot?"
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Stupid. Of course, me."
"Heard any flowers talking lately?" Aletha asked.
"Nope, ‘fraid not. But if I do, I’ll be sure to listen."
"And ‘truth’ was you last time, Letha," Remus said. "It’s not unreasonable to assume it’s you again. So you and I apparently have keys to someone’s heart in our hands."
"Wonder whose."
"What I wonder," Danger said, "is if the flower is the same in both mentions. If she is, she’s quite some person — she’s going to bring down someone haughty, the ‘light,’ I guess, and tell Sirius some kind of truth he’s not expecting."
"There are many things I’m not expecting," Sirius said. "Among them used to be that I had a Pack-sister with prophetic dreams. Or that I had a Pack-sister at all, for that matter."
"Are you saying you don’t like me?" Danger folded her arms and scowled.
"No. I’m just saying, give me a little time to sort this out."
"We will," Remus said. "But I’m not sure how long the world will give us. Whatever this means, there was a definite urgent feel to it. It’s going to happen soon."
"Soon as in tomorrow?" Aletha asked, glancing at the calendar, which had just been turned to May. "Or next week, or next month?"
Danger shrugged. "Not sure. Could be any of the above."
"Or none of them," Sirius countered. "All we know is, it’s coming."
"There is one other thing," Remus said. "The first phrase. Fear no light. If we’re being told not to be afraid, that means some kind of situation where we would normally be afraid."
"And that is not good." Aletha took a deep breath and shook her head. "Oh well. No use worrying about it until it happens. Pass the jam, please."
xXxXx
June passed with nothing worse than a close call, when Paul Abbott, Aletha’s immediate superior, firecalled her at a moment when Sirius was chasing Harry, Hermione, and Meghan through the music room. Fortunately, Sirius was able to get himself out of the room in time by diving through the hidden archway as the flames turned green, and Aletha explained, when she came in response to the call, that the neighbors’ children were visiting her.
"We need to put an alarm on that fire," Remus said afterwards, when everyone was recovering. "That was much too close."
He did so the next day, with the result that Aletha’s fireplace howled like a dog every time a Floo connection was made into it. Sirius was not amused. The rest of the Pack found it hilarious.
xXxXx
If I ever find out what imbecile came up with the idea of "Bring Your Children to Work Day," I will see to his torture personally.
Lucius Malfoy was not enjoying his day at the Ministry.
Cornelius Fudge, thank heaven, had no children, but most of the Ministry employees had families, with the result that the Ministry currently resembled an insane asylum.
I rather wish I had brought Draco, after all. Even if he is only four — no, not quite four, his birthday is tomorrow, I believe — he could teach these... animals quite a lot about proper behavior. He neatly sidestepped a rolling, screeching pair of redheads. Weasleys, of course. Incredible, that a pure-blood family can bring itself so low.
"Level four," he said, stepping into the lift. I need to check on that dragon-breeder I heard about. If he is genuine, I could use his services...
The door of the lift opened. "Level four," the female voice announced. "Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures..."
Lucius walked into the corridor, ignoring the voice.
"You’re it, you’re it!" squealed a child.
Here too. Merlin, how I hate children.
He looked in the direction of the voice and began to smile.
But, on second thought, perhaps they are not all bad...
xXxXx
Harry shot into Aletha’s office and dived under her desk.
"What is wrong with you?" Aletha asked in amazement.
"Scary man," Harry said, panting.
Hermione ran in after him. Both children were brown-haired today. "Jamie’s no fun," she announced, sticking out her tongue at the desk. "He ran away and he won’t play with me."
"I’m sure he’ll play with you, Janie. Come on, Greeneyes. No need to be scared. No scary men here, see?"
Harry poked his head out. "Yeah," he agreed. "No more scary man."
xXxXx
Down the hall, Lucius could hardly restrain his glee.
25 July, 1984. Quite possibly, the best day of my life.
Then he reconsidered. No, 26 July will be better. For it will be the 26th when I become a national hero, beyond reproach, and adoptive father to Harry Potter...