Living without Danger
Chapter 19: Birthday Visit (Year 2)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 19: Birthday Visit
Not for the first time, a discussion was going on after breakfast at the Marauders’ Den.
"He has to know," said Remus firmly. "This isn’t going to go away — it’s only going to get worse. He has to know."
"He’s too young," retorted Danger, glaring at him. "He’s not even twelve yet — how in the world do you expect him to handle something like this?"
"He handled the reality of it pretty well, you have to admit," said Aletha, keeping her tone even and reasonable with a bit of an effort — they’d been arguing this for a month, and they were no nearer resolving it than they had been the first night they’d talked it over. "And it’s easier to face an enemy you understand than one you don’t. Look at it from his perspective — right now, all he knows is that he’s been a target for an evil wizard, and could become one again. Don’t you think he deserves to know why?"
"The problem is," said Sirius, sounding weary and unhappy from having been over this too many times already, "the reason why he was targeted, and will keep on being, is both too frightening and too... too likely to make him prideful, I suppose... for a twelve-year-old to manage. I mean, think about it. How would you have reacted if you’d found out when you were twelve that you were ‘the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’?"
"This is still new to me," said Aletha, shaking her head at her husband. "You, arguing rationally — and against telling Harry everything."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Will you give it a rest already. Aren’t I allowed to grow up?"
"Yes, you are," said Remus before Aletha could take advantage of the opening. "And so is Harry. He’s going to have to, if he’s ever going to fulfill that prophecy..." He added a few bitter and precise words on what he wished could happen to said prophecy.
"I’ll second that," said Sirius roughly, staring out the kitchen window. "It’s not fair. He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t have to deal with things like this."
Aletha reached around the corner of the table and laid a hand on Sirius’ arm. "Sirius, love, if Harry doesn’t deal with ‘things like this,’ and soon, they’ll deal with him instead. And we won’t like how it happens. Voldemort’s chances get worse as Harry gets older, not better, so he’ll be trying to attack as soon as he can. Harry needs to be ready."
"Ready for what?" demanded Danger. "Ready to kill Voldemort?"
"Eventually, yes," said Remus flatly. "Because the only alternative is for him to be killed himself."
Silence held sway for a long moment as each of the four adults at the table acknowledged once again the painful truth in Remus’ words.
They had known about this for a long time, in a nebulous sort of way. James and Lily Potter had told Sirius about the prophecy, explaining why they needed to go into hiding, why they needed the kind of protection the Fidelius Charm would bring. Sirius, in turn, had told the other adult Marauders the gist of the prophecy when they had been trapped in the dungeons at Malfoy Manor.
A week or so later, when they’d all had a chance to recover from the rapid-fire events which had included their acquisition of a fourth cub and the ousting of Cornelius Fudge from office, a potion Aletha had brewed had allowed Sirius to recall the full text of the prophecy. It had also reminded him of a number of small funny incidents that had taken place around that time, and the Pack had laughed perhaps harder than necessary over them, trying to put off looking at the prophecy and the doom it spelled out for the child they all loved — that he must kill or be killed...
But Voldemort doesn’t know that.
Aletha sat up straighter as an idea came to her.
xXxXx
In the orchard on the hill, there was a great deal of joyous screaming going on.
"Come on, Draco, come on!"
"Go Harry, you can do it!"
A small golden ball with silver wings was zooming about the clearing dementedly, and two boys on broomsticks were following its every move, each trying to outstrip the other and catch it first —
Harry Potter dove beneath Draco Black and came up on his other side, using his wake to unbalance the blond boy. Draco had to cut back his speed to keep from falling, and by the time he’d stabilized, Harry had already caught up with the Golden Snitch and was waving it over his head, grinning.
"Show-off!" shouted Draco, but he was grinning as well.
On the grass below, Ron Weasley and Meghan Black cheered, while Hermione Granger-Lupin looked slightly disgruntled and Ginny Weasley crossed her arms and stamped her foot exaggeratedly. Luna Lovegood merely regarded everyone with her usual detached air, then marked something down on a sheet of parchment she was holding. "That’s three points for Red team," she called out. "Red leads Gold, 5 to 3."
"And that goes to show, it’s the flyer, not the broom," said Ron jubilantly, slapping Harry on the back as he landed. "Draco’s flying a Two Thousand and One, and you still beat him on your old Two Thousand."
"It’s only a year old," protested Harry.
"Harry, a year in the broom business is like forty years in the real world," said Draco, landing beside his brother and dismounting. "I bet you anything they’ll have another new model next year — probably go even faster than this does."
Harry and Draco had shared the Nimbus Two Thousand for their first year at Hogwarts, thus circumventing the rule which stated that first years could not have their own broomsticks. Harry had grown attached to the broom, which had seen him through his first year as a Quidditch player and won him two games, so he’d opted to keep it, which meant Draco got a new one.
Harry had teased Draco on his birthday, four days previous, when he’d unwrapped the shiny Nimbus Two Thousand and One, saying his brother would need the faster broom, because otherwise he wouldn’t have a chance of keeping up with Harry. The next morning, when Harry tried to pick up his own broom, it slipped out of his hands. Draco had jinxed it so that he couldn’t keep a hold of it, and demanded an apology before he’d lift the spell. Harry opted to try and figure out a counterspell himself, and got it by good luck on his third go.
Have to get him back for that...
Harry pulled himself back to the present. He, Ron, and Meghan formed the Red team, facing off against Draco, Hermione, and Ginny on the Gold team, with enough games, races, and relays to keep them busy all day long. Luna had said she preferred keeping score to playing, so that made everything even.
She could play if Neville was here. Then we’d have even teams.
Harry grumbled under his breath. The cubs didn’t want to pester the Pack-parents about Neville, but it did seem like they were never going to get around to asking his gran if he could come and stay. But they might just be waiting until after Harry’s birthday, so that Neville wouldn’t feel like he had to get Harry something...
That must be it, Harry decided. And his birthday was tomorrow. So it wouldn’t be much longer.
He got back to the important business at hand — setting up for the next game, a combination running and flying relay.
xXxXx
"Gold team wins!" shouted Draco, running into the Den late that afternoon.
"By one little point," countered Meghan, following him in. "And you wouldn’t even have had that if I hadn’t gone and fallen off my broom." She growled in frustration, clenching her fists as if she wanted to hit someone.
"Pearl, everyone falls sometimes," said Sirius soothingly.
"Not Harry," snapped Meghan. "He never falls. Not even when he gets hit by Bludgers. I’m just no good and I want everyone to go away!"
Sirius signaled rapidly to Remus, who nodded and got up.
"What’s that mean?" asked Meghan shrilly, looking at the two men, who were moving closer to her. "What’re you — EEEEE! PUT ME DOWN!"
The rest of the Pack hurried in to see what was going on, Harry and Hermione from outdoors and Aletha and Danger from the kitchen. Remus had a hold of Meghan’s wrists and Sirius her ankles, and they were swinging her back and forth like a hammock, ignoring her shrieks, which were rapidly turning to giggles.
"You never do the fun stuff to us anymore," said Harry mock-crossly when Meghan had been lowered to the ground, her bad mood dispersed.
"That’s because you’re too big for most of it," said Sirius, arching his back. "And we’re getting too old for it."
"What’s for dinner?" asked Hermione.
"You’ve forgotten the magic question," said Aletha.
"How can we help?" said Draco rapidly.
Danger gave him a thumbs up and a smile. "Much better. Table needs washing and setting. And we’re having bread and cheese, because it’s much too hot for me to want to cook anything. So we can eat as soon as the table’s ready."
The cubs descended upon the kitchen.
xXxXx
Harry took another slice of apple out of the bowl on the table and sneaked a look at his watch while he ate it. It was not quite seven o’clock — they’d have time for a good long game of Wizard’s Monopoly before bed.
"May I please be excused," he said when there was a break in the conversation.
"Us too," said Hermione, indicating herself, Draco, and Meghan. "Please."
"You three may go," said Moony. "Harry, you need to stay."
Harry frowned. This was unusual. "Did I do something?"
"No. But we need to have a talk."
"About something we didn’t tell you in June," said Padfoot.
Harry’s heart started beating a little faster. When he’d woken up after the battle with Voldemort, the only question of his that the Pack hadn’t answered was why. Why had Voldemort ever wanted to kill a one-year-old in the first place? And why him in particular?
"You three get lost," said Danger, waving her hands at the other cubs. "Shoo. This is Harry’s time, he’ll tell you about it or not as he likes, and you are not permitted to pester him about it. Out, and don’t come back for at least an hour, understand?"
Hermione and Meghan fled the kitchen, giggling a little. Draco lingered, looking at Harry. Go on, Harry signed to him. I’m all right.
He wasn’t sure if it was his reassurance or the snap of wolf-Danger’s jaws perilously near Draco’s leg that persuaded his brother to leave.
Moony and Padfoot had their wands out and were doing something to the walls of the den room when Letha led Harry into it. Danger loped in behind them and turned human again, sitting down on one of the cushions that littered the floor.
Moony finished whatever he was doing to the wall and started doing it to the ceiling. Letha took her wand out and did it to the door they’d come in by, and the noise of the dishes doing themselves from the kitchen stopped completely. Harry couldn’t hear a thing.
Danger wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Secret time," she said in a stage whisper. "Big secret. Very mysterious."
Harry nodded. "I won’t tell anyone," he answered in the same tones.
"You had better not," said Padfoot, finishing with the wall and flopping down on a cushion of his own. "Joking aside, Harry, this is important. We’ve been talking over whether or not we should tell you about this, and how much to tell you, for a month now, and we finally came to a compromise this morning."
"You asked why Voldemort would want to kill you," said Letha, sitting down beside Padfoot. "We will answer, but we have to ask you some questions first. How much do you know about prophecies?"
Harry chewed on his lip, thinking. "They’re predictions of the future," he said finally. "They’re usually hard to understand. Sometimes they’re set up like riddles, so they can come out more than one way. I know Danger has them in dreams sometimes."
Moony nodded. "Very good. All of that is correct." His Pack-father looked grave, Harry noticed suddenly, and his excitement began to wane. Something was telling him he might not like this very much.
"Harry, a short time before you were born, a prophecy was made. That in itself isn’t too unusual — prophecies happen more often than you’d think, and sometimes over very trivial things. But this one was not. It concerned Voldemort — and the person who could defeat him."
Harry’s mind rushed through a million questions. He opened his mouth to ask one, but it wasn’t the one he’d thought it was —
"Does Voldemort know?"
"He knows about the first part of the prophecy," said Letha. "The part that we’re going to tell you. There is more to it, but the first part is the part you need to know right now. Will you trust us to tell you the rest when you need it?"
Harry nodded, throat suddenly dry.
Padfoot cleared his throat. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," he recited. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."
Harry’s thoughts whirled. Seventh month is July. As the seventh month dies — at the end of the month —
"Your parents got away from Voldemort three times," said Moony quietly, breaking into Harry’s thoughts. "He tried to kill them three times, and failed. And they never gave in to his demands."
The room, almost stiflingly warm only a moment before, seemed to have gone very cold. Harry looked around at his Pack-parents’ faces, wishing one of them would crack, would start laughing and tell him it was all a joke — though it wasn’t very funny...
"Does it mean me, then? The prophecy?"
"Voldemort thought it did," said Padfoot. "Although there was another boy it could have been. You know him — you’ve been very good about not bothering us about him all this month."
Harry’s mouth did not fall open, though it was close. "Neville?"
"Don’t sound so surprised," said Letha dryly. "Frank and Alice Longbottom were Aurors, and some of the best around. Neville’s got his mother’s pluck as well as her face, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be a fine wizard once he’s over his shakes."
"Was he born at the end of July too?"
"Yes. In fact, now that I think of it, his birthday’s today." Padfoot smiled reminiscently. "Alice Longbottom and your mother shared a room at St. Mungo’s, and you and Neville set each other off every time you cried. James and I ended up enchanting some earplugs to block out fussy baby noises."
Moony smirked. "And then Lily smacked James upside the head for not doing his share of the diaper changing."
Ordinarily, Harry would have been highly embarrassed by this, but his mind was busy with other things at the moment. "So does the prophecy mean I can beat Voldemort? Really beat him, for good, so he won’t come back?"
"Yes, and no," said Danger, speaking for the first time. Her voice sounded a bit hoarse, and Harry wondered why. "Yes, you can — that is, you will be able to. Eventually. When you’re old enough, and have learned enough. But no, you cannot right now. Nor at any point in the near future. Just because you can defeat him does not mean that you necessarily will."
Harry followed this thought to its logical conclusion and swallowed hard.
Just because I can beat him doesn’t mean I will — and if I don’t...
"Exactly," said Moony, startling him into a jump. "So this doesn’t make you want to go charging off and find him?"
Harry shook his head vigorously.
"Good." Moony looked pleased. "At the moment, there is no apparent danger to you that we know of. Albus — Professor Dumbledore to you — says that Voldemort is nowhere nearby..."
"That’s what he said during the school year," retorted Harry.
"Well, now he’s sure of all the staff," said Letha firmly. "None of them would allow Lord Voldemort into their minds for an instant." She put a highly sarcastic spin on the title.
"Not even Professor Grumpy?"
"Him least of all," said Moony. "Harry, trust me on this. Severus Snape is unfair, rude, and generally unpleasant to have around, but he is not Dark."
"Not anymore," muttered Padfoot under his breath.
Harry catalogued that little piece of information for future reference. "What about the new Defense professor?" he asked.
The Pack looked at one another and burst into laughter.
"No, not even the new Defense professor would cooperate with Voldemort," Padfoot managed to get out.
"And no, we’re not telling you who it is," added Letha, before going off into a fresh spasm of laughter.
Harry waited patiently for them to stop, and eventually, they did. Danger wiped her eyes and sighed. "This changes nothing except what you know, Harry. We’re still your Pack, you’re still our cub. We’ll still fight to protect you, until you can protect yourself. And there won’t — or there shouldn’t — be any need for that for some years to come."
Harry nodded. "Can I tell the others?" he asked. "About this?"
"We’re not going to forbid it," said Moony after a moment of silent conversation, conducted with facial expressions and hand-signals made where Harry couldn’t see them. "But we would rather you not. If you do, it is your responsibility to make whoever you tell understand how important it is that this remain secret."
"Den-secret?" asked Harry without thinking, then wished he could take it back. He wasn’t sure the Pack-parents knew, or should know, that he and his friends had really formed a Pack...
Or have we?
"Yes, den-secret is the right idea," said Danger approvingly. "Told only to the ones you trust completely. Very good."
"Do you remember how it was at the beginning of this year?" asked Letha. "With everyone pointing and whispering?"
Harry made a face. "I hated it."
"Well, they’ll do it again if this becomes public," said Padfoot. "Harry Potter, Child of Prophecy."
Harry groaned. "No. The Boy Who Lived is bloody bad enough."
"Language, young man," said Danger reprovingly. "Watch that mouth."
Harry contorted his face, sticking his lips out to the point where he could look down his nose and see them.
"I could always hex those off if they’re bothering you," offered Padfoot, drawing his wand.
Harry promptly pulled his lips back in. "Can I go now?" he asked.
"Yes." Moony drew his own wand and lifted the charm on the doorway. "But come here first."
Harry came, and gladly accepted and returned the hug Moony held him in for a moment. The other Pack-parents took their turns as well, with the result that Harry left the room feeling rather better than he’d expected to.
He went outside, but instead of heading at top speed for the orchard, where he knew everyone else would be, he walked slowly, trying to take it all in.
I can beat Voldemort.
Maybe that means nobody else can.
I wonder what the others are going to say?
He tried to imagine their responses.
Ron will be scared, but think it’s cool too. Hermione will be all "oh, this is terrible." Draco will look at me all quiet and meaningful and just kind of nod. Ginny... I don’t know what she’ll do, she’s still acting weird around me. Luna will say something nobody understands. And Meghan will hug me and promise she’ll stay with me all the way to the end.
Something occurred to him. They said the prophecy could have meant Neville. Could it still mean him?
I wonder if he knows about it.
He ought to. If it means him, or could have meant him... he should know about it.
But if it’s supposed to be so secret that the Pack sealed the room before telling me, then I shouldn’t put it in a letter. Or firecall. I should tell him in person...
Something else came back to him, and it was the first thing out of his mouth as he arrived at the orchard.
"Today’s Neville’s birthday."
"Is that what they wanted to tell you?" asked Draco in surprise. "What was all the fuss about, then?"
"No, that wasn’t what they wanted to tell me — it came up while they were telling me. But we didn’t send him a card or a letter or anything."
"We didn’t know about it," objected Hermione.
"We should do something, though," said Meghan. "Get him a present or something."
"What did they want to tell you, Harry?" asked Luna.
Harry opened his mouth to tell them, then stopped. Another of his thoughts from earlier had just intruded on his mind.
Are we really a Pack? Do we qualify?
There’s eight of us, counting Neville. And we’ve all sworn the oath.
But we’ve never all sworn it at the same time. And never with blood. We don’t even all have pendants.
Maybe it’s time to fix that.
A plan came rushing into his mind.
"Who wants to have an adventure?" he asked.
xXxXx
The cubs went to bed without a fuss, and earlier than usual.
"Want to talk without us around, probably," said Sirius after having finished tucking them in. "Maybe I ought to look around and see if I still have those old two-way mirrors. Then they could get a hold of Ron."
"The last thing they need is more incentive to stay up late, Sirius Black," said Aletha, flicking his ear. "They don’t need it now, and they certainly won’t need it during the school year — but if you must do it, I suppose now is the better time..."
xXxXx
Unknown to Aletha, the cubs needed no incentive whatsoever.
Harry was out the window on his broom within five minutes of their arrival in the bedroom. He hovered over the Den in the July twilight, waiting for the signal. Finally it came — three flashes of light from the direction of the Burrow.
He swooped back down to the window and helped Hermione mount behind him. Draco carefully maneuvered out the window with Meghan seated in front of him. Their beds were stuffed so it would look, to a casual observer, as if they were all asleep in them. To a non-casual observer... well, what could the Pack-parents do? It wasn’t as if they were leaving a note or anything.
Hermione was clutching a bag which contained some of the leftover bread, cheese, and apples from dinner, and a bottle of water and some cups, in case they needed a snack along the way. Meghan held the other vital items they’d need.
It was a short flight to the Burrow. They landed, dismounted, and hid their brooms in the Weasleys’ broomshed — by the time anyone noticed there were two too many in there, they’d be long gone. Then they hurried to join their friends.
"You’re sure you want to do this?" Harry asked Ron, noticing his friend’s face looking unusually pale, even by moonlight.
"I’m sure."
"Let’s go, then. We should probably get it onto the road before we start it — come on, everybody push."
xXxXx
Neville Longbottom was dreaming.
He was climbing a huge beanstalk, like the boy named Jack in the Muggle story, but it seemed to keep getting bigger as he climbed it. It was so big around now that it was hard like a tree in the center. He clambered from one leaf to another, trying not to look down.
Suddenly he heard a rapping noise. He looked around wildly for its source, and finally spotted it — a woodpecker was clinging to the beanstalk, pecking at it. Its feathers were a glossy dark brown.
"Hello," said Neville, not stopping to wonder why he was saying hello to a bird.
The bird turned and looked at him. "Open the window!" it said in a rather muffled voice.
Which sounded quite a lot like little Meghan Black.
Neville stared at the bird. Then the rapping sound came again, but it wasn’t coming from the bird — it was coming from —
He woke up. Moonlight was pouring in through his window. And Meghan Black was outside it, rapping her knuckles against it.
Neville jumped out of bed and hurried across the room. "How did you get here?" he asked as soon as he’d opened the window. "And how—" He broke off, staring.
Meghan was halfway out the front window of a turquoise and white car, parked directly outside his bedroom window. This might not have been so amazing, except that his bedroom was two stories off the ground.
"Can I come in?"
"Oh — yes — of course." Neville held out his arms and helped Meghan climb out the car’s window and in through his.
"You could have opened the door," said Hermione from inside the car, and Neville belatedly noticed everyone else inside the car.
And it was everyone else. Neville could hardly believe his eyes. Harry, Draco, Ron, Ron’s sister, and the Lovegood girl — they’d all come...
He moved hastily aside as Hermione, suiting action to words, popped the back door open and climbed nimbly in through his window. Draco followed her and turned back to assist Luna Lovegood in, and Ron brought the car carefully around so that Harry and Ginny could get out the other side. "Let me in downstairs?" he asked Neville. "I have to go park."
"Sure." Neville hurried down the two flights of stairs, his mind racing — why were they all there? What in the world could be so important that they had to come and see him at midnight? How had they even found out where he lived?
He opened the front door almost in Ron’s face.
"I put it down in the field back that way," said Ron, indicating the rear of the house. "There wasn’t anything important growing there, was there?"
"No, it’s just grass — what are you all doing here?"
"Harry has something he wants us to do, and some secret or other he wants to tell everyone all at once. Oh, and we came to wish you happy birthday too. Sorry it’s late."
Neville snuck a look at the kitchen clock as they passed. It was late, if just barely — his birthday had been over for about two and a half hours. But it still counted. "Thanks."
They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence and regained the safety of Neville’s bedroom. The other six were sitting in a sort of circle, with two empty places — those must be for us...
"Ron, you’re over here," said Harry, indicating a place between Ginny and Hermione. "Neville, you’re across from him."
Neville took his indicated seat, in between Meghan and Luna Lovegood, who looked at him consideringly for a moment.
Harry coughed slightly, getting everyone’s attention. "We’ve all sworn the Pack-oath at least once," he said. "But I think we need to make it official. And that means a full swearing. In blood."
"Blood?" Neville tried, with only partial success, to keep his voice from squeaking.
"Just a little cut," said Hermione. "On your hand. We’ve done it. But there’s one other thing you need. Something from someone who loves you. Something like a ring, or a piece of jewelry. And something you’re willing to lose."
"You get it back," said Draco hastily, seeing Neville’s expression. "But it’s different." He pulled out his chain. "It turns into these. We made them with rings our parents gave us — one my mum left me, Harry’s mum and dad’s wedding rings, Hermione’s too."
"I have my grandfather’s old ring," said Ron, showing a curiously shaped gold ring. "He taught me how to play chess. When he died, he left me his chessmen and this."
"I brought a ring Mum gave me," said Ginny very quietly, showing it. "She says it was the promise ring Dad gave her while they were in school, before they got engaged. She wanted me to keep it to give to a boy I liked." She blushed. "But I want to use it for this."
"My mum’s wedding ring," said Luna simply, taking off the chain where the ring hung around her neck. "She died for me. I know she loved me."
Neville looked at his hands as if hoping they would provide inspiration —
And suddenly they did.
"I’ll be right back," he said, and hurried out of the room.
He had to be careful. His gran was a light sleeper, and her jewel box was charmed to resist intruders. But he wasn’t an intruder — she allowed him to look in there sometimes, as long as he didn’t take anything out —
But he was going to take something out now.
"It was my dad’s," Neville said when he returned, displaying the ring to everyone. The initial letter H glistened in the moonlight. "I don’t know what it stands for, but he always used to wear it. Gran says it’s mine now, so I can do what I want with it."
Harry nodded. "Then we’re ready. Everyone put your things in the middle." He pulled off his chain and dropped it into the middle of the circle. Ginny set her ring on top of it. Neville put his beside hers, and Meghan added her chain next. Ron put his ring on top of Neville’s and Ginny’s, and Hermione looped her chain around the others. Luna pressed her mother’s ring once to her lips, then added it to the pile, and Draco piled his chain on top of it.
Harry held out his hand to Meghan, who gave him a small bag she was holding. He opened it and took out a white cloth, like a handkerchief or a napkin, and a knife. Neville gulped as Harry made a small cut on the palm of his left hand and let blood drip onto the cloth. "Do it on your off hand," he said, passing the knife and cloth to Ginny. "And not too much — just a little is enough."
Knife and cloth passed from Ginny to Ron, to Hermione, Draco, Luna, and it was Neville’s turn. He swallowed hard again, and then felt a small, cool hand on his leg below where his pajama shorts ended. It seemed to give him courage, and the cut didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it would. He blotted his hand on the cloth and passed the items to Meghan, who scored her own hand lightly, added her blood to the mixture already there, and gave both things back to Harry.
Harry leaned forward to wrap the rings and necklaces in the cloth, then sat up straight again and took a deep breath. "We now will swear an oath. Hear me speak it first, and then look around you. If there is anyone here to whom you cannot swear this, depart now. For this oath is binding by magic, and the one who breaks it will never find rest, by day or by night, in life or in death. Hear me now —
"My hand in yours,
"My wand with yours,
"My life for yours,
"Now and always.
"Is there any here who does not wish to swear?"
No one spoke. No one moved.
"Then join hands, and speak the oath with me, three times, to make it truly binding upon us all."
xXxXx
Danger leaned against one of the outer walls of Hogwarts, feeling the sun-warmed stone against her cheek...
"You again," said a familiar, slightly sardonic voice in her ear.
She jumped slightly and spun around, hands in a defensive posture. Alexander Slytherin backed away. "Whoa, easy there. I’m not about to hurt you."
"No, just scare me out of my wits," Danger retorted. "So where exactly is that portrait of yours at Hogwarts?"
"Oh, that’s not for me to tell you. It’s your cubs’ secret."
Danger rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. They’re keeping secrets from us now."
"Turnabout is fair play — though I must say, that was a nice piece of work you did with Harry about the prophecy. And speaking of Harry... it’s three o’clock in the morning. Do you know where your cubs are?"
"Is this a trick question?"
"Yes."
"Then no, I don’t. Where are they? Or is that also not for you to tell me?"
"Oh, not at all. They’re at Longbottom House."
"Longbottom House? What in the world are they doing there?"
"Something none of us anticipated," said Alex with a rueful smile. "Or at least not so soon."
"What?"
Alex gestured. A section of air turned opaque in front of them.
Eight small figures could be seen, sitting in a circle on the floor of a bedroom, hands joined, with a small red and white bundle in the middle of the circle — and as Danger listened, eight voices began to recite something —
"Oh my God. They’re swearing the oath, making themselves a Pack, aren’t they?"
"Yes."
"Is something going to go wrong? Are they going to be hurt?"
"Hurt — no, heavens no, not at all." Alex looked surprised that Danger should even ask. "But the oath will be binding on them — they all understand it. If any of them should betray the others..." His face darkened for a moment. "But I don’t think they will. They seem like good sorts."
"There has to be a reason you’re showing me this," said Danger, looking back at the scene. "There’s always a reason, with you people."
"Give that lady a fuzzy slipper," said Alex, grinning. "She’s figured us out."
Abruptly, they were indoors, in a comfortable and capacious chamber. Not the one Danger had seen on her last visit — that seemed to be for formal occasions. The Founders were sitting around, engaged in various activities — Danger saw Helga and Adam Hufflepuff fussing over a tray of seedlings, Brenna Ravenclaw treadling a spinning wheel, Paul Gryffindor shooting small balls of fire from his fingers at targets set up along the opposite wall...
"I’ve done my part," announced Alex loudly, sitting down on nothing — but a chair scurried up behind him as he sat, so that it was there when he was. "Somebody else gets to do the explaining now."
"Lazy," said Maura Gryffindor, looking up from her book. She graced Danger with a warm smile. "Will you walk with me, Madam Granger-Lupin?"
"Of course. And please call me Danger."
"Then you must call me Maura."
The two women left the room and walked quietly down the hallway.
"What Alex did not want to have to tell you," said Maura after a few moments of silence, "is that your magic spinning out of control over the past several months was in some ways our fault."
"Your fault?"
"Yes. There is a certain magic in words, Danger, as you must know. When we named your powers for you, you conceived of certain meanings and uses for them. Rowena and Helga may have influenced you, by calling your third magical power ‘wild.’ For wild it certainly became. And for this we are sorry."
"Couldn’t you have stopped it? Helped me get control or something?"
"We would have, had it become necessary — but it never was. Your Remus was able to help you on all occasions when you needed such help. But he may not always be able to do that for you."
Danger nodded. "I know. I’ve been trying to think, all this month, what I can do if it ever starts happening again — because next time it might not stop with whatever’s directly threatening the cubs. It might start bashing down whatever’s in its way, or whatever it perceives might be a threat... and that’s bad. That’s very bad."
"Agreed."
They walked a short way again in silence.
"Another choice stands before you now," said Maura as they came into the hallway leading to the marble staircase and the entrance hall. "Your wild magic, as it stands, is too powerful to be permanently tamed to your will. Your desires to protect your loved ones must be very strong indeed, to produce such power."
Danger smiled, feeling her cheeks heat slightly. "I think that was a compliment, so thank you."
"It was, and you are welcome. To deal with this obviously untenable situation, we can offer you a choice. In the first place, we can help you convert some of this wild magic of yours into another kind of magic, a controlling magic, to keep the other leashed until it must be used. You would surely have more control this way, but it would be a difficult life. You would need to be constantly watching the wild magic and using the controlling techniques."
"I understand."
"The other choice is a bit more complex." The women walked into the entrance hall. Maura gestured, bringing up again the view of a bedroom with eight small people in a circle on the floor. "They will need power, to face all the challenges they must face. Courage, cunning, intelligence, loyalty, all these they have, in abundance. But it might benefit them to have extra magical power available to them."
Danger stared. "Are you suggesting I transfer some of my magic to the cubs?"
"Yes. That would reduce your magic to a level you can control. And do remind me to tell you precisely how best to use the wild magic..." Maura sighed. "I’m afraid that label is going to stick, like it or not. So. Can you make the choice?"
"Not yet. What kind of downsides for each? I mean, you said that if I choose to keep all the magic, I’ll have to be on it quite a lot, keeping it under wraps. What’s the downside of transferring?"
"There are several. It will be harder on you — you will need several days to recover fully. It will also affect the children, and the way they relate to one another, although they may not realize it or notice it for a long time. Since they are currently linked in their oath-swearing, any power that you transfer to them now will go to all of them equally, to be used equally, and therefore leave a magical trace behind, making them more permanently linked, magically. And, of course, it will make them more powerful, and you less. You will be less able to protect them from the vagaries of the world."
Danger twisted a hand in her hair, thinking. "Is there any way I could talk to Remus about this?" she asked finally. "Or Sirius, or Letha?"
"Certainly." Maura gestured to the open floor space. Three fireballs — explosions in reverse, it seemed — appeared, and Remus, Aletha, and Sirius appeared out of them. "I await your leisure." She vanished.
Danger explained, as quickly as possible, what was going on and her current choice. Aletha was livid that the cubs had left the Den without permission. Remus said nothing, but Danger could see quiet amusement on his face. Sirius admired their guts, and said so openly, earning himself a smack from Aletha.
"So you can keep your magic and have better control; or give it away, knock yourself flat on your back, and do something we don’t really understand to the cubs," said Sirius finally.
"I think I know which one you’d advise, then," said Danger with a sigh.
"I know which one sounds better at first blush. But my first impressions aren’t always right. Let me think about it for a minute."
"They’re going to face a lot of danger in their lives," said Aletha, looking at the picture, still showing the circle — Danger suspected it had been frozen. "It might do them well to have some extra power."
"That’s what Maura said, but I’m worried about them abusing it..."
"The cubs are generally responsible," said Remus. "Present conditions notwithstanding. Besides, how can they abuse it if they don’t know about it?"
"You have a point."
"I think I’m going to be outvoted anyway," said Sirius, "so I might as well change my mind now. They’re turning themselves into another Pack, so go on, give them some Pack-magic. Give old Voldie-wart a surprise when he tries them on for size."
"That rhymed," said Aletha. "You’re a poet."
"And I didn’t know it." Sirius grinned.
Danger grinned back. "It’s unanimous. Motion carried. The cubs get my extra magic, I get a few days’ bed rest, and our four get double chores while I’m in bed for sneaking out that way."
"Agreed." Remus turned at a noise behind him and bowed politely. "Madam Gryffindor."
"Maura, please, Remus — if I may?"
"Of course."
"I’ve decided, Maura," said Danger. "The magic goes to the cubs." She took a moment to get the words in the right order. "I, Gertrude ‘Danger’ Granger-Lupin, do hereby present that portion of my wild magic which I cannot control to the eight children currently forming themselves into a Pack in Neville Longbottom’s bedroom. So I speak, so I intend."
Maura smiled. "And so let it be done. Place your hand on the viewing plane."
Danger did so, and repressed a start as something like red light, tinged with blue and filled with hints of other colors, flowed from her into the picture beyond — into Hermione, and from her into Ron on one side and Draco on the other — from them, quickly, outwards to the rest of the circle — then it began to make cross-connections, until every one of the eight was connected directly to every other —
And then it was gone. Danger sagged, and Remus quickly supported her. The room was starting to tilt and turn black...
"Not yet," said a voice, and a cool hand pressed against Danger’s forehead, sending new strength through her. She turned her head to see Rowena Ravenclaw, obviously exerting her healing magic. "There is one more formality to go through first."
Danger’s attention was caught by movement in the viewing plane. So was everyone else’s.
Aletha gasped and Sirius bit off a swearword as the cubs and their friends collapsed to the floor where they sat, as if they’d all been Stunned...
And suddenly they were there, in the Founders’ Castle. On the floor of the Great Hall, still sitting in their circle, all eight of them, wide awake and staring around them.
"It is time," said Godric Gryffindor, stepping out of nothing. "Time to name the honorary Heirs."