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Chapter 5: Ten Years Tonight

The days began to get chilly as September faded pleasantly into October. Harry was absent from the common room three evenings a week now with Quidditch practice, which meant he needed Hermione’s help more than ever to keep up with all his work. Some of the things she did for him might, by a very strict person, have been regarded as cheating, but it was all in the family. Or the Pack.

11 October marked the first night spent in the Hogwarts Den, as it was now known to the eight people who knew about it (Ron had written Ginny, and Draco Luna, to let them know about the discovery, and both girls had been sworn to secrecy, as had Meghan). It was also the first "real" den-night at Hogwarts, since it was the first that involved stories.

Ron told one about the day Fred had given him an Acid Pop, which had burnt a hole through his tongue. "It was just the October before you moved in, I was seven and Fred was nine, and I yelled so loud I think I blew a couple tiles off the roof — Mum was furious, after she got me healed up she walloped Fred with her broomstick." Half-serious plans were made to avenge this long-accomplished but still dastardly trick by the twins.

Neville shared a story about his gran’s enormous handbag — when he’d been very small, not even two yet, he’d opened it up, crawled in, and gone to sleep, to be found by his very worried grandmother about an hour later when she snatched up her bag to go out looking for her missing grandson. "I don’t remember, of course, but she tells the story every Christmas and Easter when the family gets together," said Neville, sounding a bit aggrieved. "Maybe I’ll stay here this Christmas so I don’t have to hear it again."

"Or maybe you’ll get invited to someone else’s house," suggested Draco innocently.

Hermione kicked him.

"What?"

The cubs, of course, had plenty of stories to share, even discounting the ones which made mention of Animagus abilities and lycanthropy. Hermione recounted how she had used to lie in her tree in the backyard and read to the other cubs, and how Harry would do a running translation of the story into Parseltongue. It was eerily reminiscent of the current scene, since Siss had accompanied Harry to den-night once again, and he was giving her the gist of the conversation as it went on.

Harry, for his part, told the story about finding Siss at the Apothecary. "Siss, whatever happened to Hesseh?" he asked when the story was over, realizing he didn’t know what had become of his other friend from the London Den.

"A meat-eating bird took him, the summer after you went away."

"Oh, I’m sorry."

"Do not be. It was very quick, and all that lives must die."

Snakes, Harry had discovered, could be very philosophical.

Draco went last. He had chosen to tell about his life before he’d become Pack, when he’d still been a Malfoy. "I’ve been getting questions from all over, in all kinds of ways," he had told Harry as they waited for the common room to clear out. "From the oh-so-delicate to as blunt as Nott — though no one else was quite that rude. I figure this way I’ll get it out so Ron and Neville know about it, and then they won’t have to ask."

"I was an arrogant little berk then," said Draco now, with an odd mixture of pride and embarrassment. "I thought everything my size or smaller belonged to me, and everything bigger belonged to my father. And as far as my world went, I was right. I almost never went out of the house — I hardly ever left my rooms. I had a bathroom off my bedroom, and Dobby brought me my meals in my rooms most of the time. Sometimes, on special occasions, I’d eat downstairs with my parents, but that didn’t happen often. And sometimes other kids would come to play, sort of. None of us really knew how to play at all. We just sat there trying to act like our parents or push each other around."

Draco frowned. "You know, I think Nott might have been one of those kids — with his father and — Lucius Malfoy — being who they were, it’s likely. I do remember a little weedy kid coming a couple of times. And I’m positive I met Crabbe and Goyle at least once. I remember thinking they were big, dumb blockheads."

"And what do you think now?" asked Harry.

"Same."

"Hear, hear," said Ron.

"What did you do the rest of the time?" queried Neville, who looked fascinated.

"I don’t really remember. I think I’ve blocked it out. I do remember being horrendously bored a lot, though. I would lie in front of the fire and stare at it for hours, and then I’d get up and run around and knock things over and break things, and make Dobby fix them with his magic so I wouldn’t get in trouble."

"And then the Pack came," said Hermione after a moment of silence.

Draco nodded. "And then the Pack came. And my world turned totally upside down overnight, and I liked it."

Neville leaned forward. "What happened then?"

"I thought we told you this already," said Harry. "On the train."

"You may have, but I don’t really remember," confessed Neville. "I’m terrible that way. I’m always forgetting things."

Hermione looked at her watch. "It’s not too late yet. There’s time for another story, I think. If everyone wants to hear it."

Ron and Harry both nodded. "I like this one," Ron said. "I like the part about you smashing into Lucius Malfoy, Harry, and knocking him over."

"Be fair, Neenie helped."

Hermione bristled for a moment, then sighed. "You may call me that here," she said with dignity. "Here and only here. It will be my in-den name. Does that suit you?"

"Perfectly," said Harry, copying her tone and mannerisms exactly, making the other boys laugh.

Hermione reached over and flicked his ear with her fingers.

"Ow."

"It started on a normal night," Draco began quickly, obviously hoping to defray further violence. "I’d had dinner already, and I was just watching the fire when my father came in. I was scared at first, and then I was surprised, because he had two other kids about my age with him, on a stretcher he was hovering beside him. He picked up the boy and put him on my bed, and kind of dumped the girl off the stretcher without touching her himself, and he told me the boy was going to live with us and be my new brother..."

xXxXx

"Today, students," squeaked Professor Flitwick, standing on his desk, "we’re going to learn the basic Levitation Charm. You should all have read the section in your books about this, so everyone say the incantation together, one, two, three!"

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry dutifully chanted with everyone else.

"Excellent, and now let’s all practice that nice wand movement, the swish and flick..."

Harry swished and flicked, though he found the smell of baking pumpkin highly distracting. Padfoot claimed that if he needed to write a section in his books about a really great meal, he just thought about Hogwarts holiday feasts. The start-of-term banquet had been excellent, of course, and the food was good every day, but Moony and Letha backed Padfoot up in claiming holiday feasts were something out of the ordinary...

"Mr. Potter!" Professor Flitwick’s voice broke through Harry’s reverie.

"Er, yes, sir?"

"You’ll be working with Mr. Boot. Move down a few seats, change places with Miss Patil — Miss Padma Patil, sorry, dear..."

Harry swapped seats with Parvati’s twin and shook hands with Terry Boot, a sturdy Ravenclaw boy. "Nice to meet you," Terry said. "I mean, for real. I’ve seen you in the halls and all, but we’ve never actually been introduced."

"Is your gran’s name Sue Robertson?" Harry asked, suddenly recalling why Terry’s name seemed familiar.

Terry stared at him in surprise. "How’d you know?"

"Moony — that’s Mr. Lupin, he’s one of my guardians — he’s a friend of hers. They’ve gone out to tea a couple of times. And we met her at King’s Cross the day we left for school, she said your mum was putting you on the train."

"She took me to the trial," Terry said as Professor Flitwick assigned Ron to work with Hermione. "When Sirius Black got off. That was the first time I saw you, when Professor McGonagall Untransfigured you. What was it like, being an animal?"

"Not all that different from being human. Four feet, no hands, sharper teeth — Hermione was lucky, she got claws. Other than that, not too different."

"And — you can tell me to shut up if you want to."

"No, go on."

"All right. What’s it like, living with Sirius Black? I mean, really?"

Harry shrugged. "What’s it like living with your dad?"

Terry looked at the floor. "My dad’s dead," he said quietly. "He died in the war."

Harry winced. "I’m sorry."

"You didn’t know." Terry looked up. "And you didn’t answer the question either."

"It’s..." Harry sighed. "I guess what I’m trying to say is it’s no different than living with anyone else. I have a family. It’s a little bigger than most people’s families — two mums and two dads — but it’s just about the same every other way. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it makes sense. But..."

"What?"

"I guess I was hoping for something exciting. Like he locks you in your room and doesn’t feed you or something."

Harry would have been mad, except that Terry’s expression made it obvious he was joking. "Only on Tuesdays," he answered, returning Terry’s grin.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands. "All right, class, one partner from each pair come up and get a feather, and then to work!"

xXxXx

"Did you have to show me up in front of everyone?" Ron groused at Hermione while they waited for their turn at the door of the Charms classroom.

"That’s a stupid question," answered Draco before Hermione could say anything. "Of course she did."

"If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be Hermione Granger-Lupin, know-it-all extraordinaire," Harry finished.

"Oh, shut it, both of you," Hermione snapped. "You’re just jealous because none of you could get your feather any higher than a foot."

"And you got it four feet up on your first try," said Ron enviously. "How do you do that, anyway?"

"How do you eat enough food for three normal people?"

"I do not!"

"You do so!"

"If you don’t watch out, Ron’s going to take your place as Hermione’s number one person to fight with," Harry said to Draco as they descended the stairs toward the Great Hall, the pair under discussion a few feet in front of them, quarrelling loudly and the subject of many interested looks from passing students and portraits hanging on the walls.

"He’s welcome to it. I’ll even teach him my spit shield spell."

"You know a spit shield spell?"

"No, but I wish I did. Do you think Madam Pomfrey could do something about Hermione’s teeth?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe, but she’d have to have permission from Danger or Moony. And Hermione would have to want it."

"And that would mean Hermione would have to admit there was some area in which she was less than perfect."

The boy-cubs looked at each other.

"Not happening," they said together, and cracked up laughing.

A screech came from around the corner Ron and Hermione had just turned. Harry and Draco broke into a run, but skidded to a halt as Nearly Headless Nick emerged from the wall, looking a bit ruffled. "I believe I may have startled your sister," he said, readjusting his head. "She has quite a set of lungs."

"You should hear her if she sees a mouse," said Draco.

"I heard that!" echoed around the corner.

"You were supposed to!" Draco yelled back.

"Will we see you at the feast, Sir Nicholas?" Harry asked as Draco disappeared around the corner.

"Oh, I wouldn’t dream of missing it. I understand the Charms Club has a special entertainment planned..."

xXxXx

The special entertainment consisted of turning the hair of every person in the school orange and black striped in honor of the holiday. Hermione thought it looked as if someone had swapped half the hair on Harry’s and Ron’s heads.

"Look," Draco said, pointing at the High Table, "they’ve done Dumbledore’s beard in plaid."

"Sprout’s got a pumpkin pattern in her hair," said Neville.

"And I think I see just a little orange on a certain Potions Master," said Harry gleefully. "Wait till he turns his head — there, d’you see it?"

Hermione giggled. There was, indeed, just a fleck of orange on the back of Snape’s greasy head. "Happy Halloween," she said, raising her goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Happy Halloween," answered her brothers and friends, raising their goblets in answer.

Five goblets were drained.

About fifteen minutes later, Hermione felt the result.

"I’ll be back in a minute," she said, laying down her fork in her mostly-eaten shepherd’s pie.

"Where’re you going?" asked Ron with his mouth full. The hair charm had mostly worn off by now, leaving everyone just a touch speckled.

Hermione gave him the full benefit of the Granger-Lupin glare. "The ladies’ room."

Ron blushed.

Honestly, the nerve of some people, Hermione thought irritably as she left the Great Hall.

The ground floor girls’ bathroom was nearby, for Hogwarts, which still meant a fairly brisk three-minute walk. Hermione was grateful it wasn’t any longer.

She didn’t have a book with her (You? Without a book? I think I’m going to faint! Draco’s most innocent tones echoed in her mind), but the graffiti on the inside of the stall made for interesting reading.

"Snape needs to drown in his own cauldron." Can I help?

"Join the ‘I Kicked Mrs. Norris’ Club today!" Don’t I just wish...

"MFT loves TMR." I wonder who they are. Or were. It looks old.

She flushed the toilet, unlocked the stall, and opened the door.

And froze in terror.

Her Pack-pendant chilled against her chest.

Something which looked like a mound of moving stone in overalls, and smelled like Padfoot’s week-old socks, had just shuffled into the bathroom.

Troll, the portion of her mind that wasn’t paralyzed in fear recognized. Mountain troll. Stupid, mean, strong...

I should run.

The problem was, the troll was blocking the only entrance, which was also the only exit.

Wait. What if I went between its legs?

It was disgusting, but it was a solution.

Hermione gathered her courage and ran.

The troll bellowed as it spotted her, and swung its club downwards in a great arc, following her path between its legs.

Then it bellowed even louder.

Great, now it’s hurting, which means it’s mad. Have to run, have to run, get up and run...

Too busy looking over her shoulder for signs of the troll to watch where she was going, Hermione collided painfully with a suit of armor at one of the corners, knocking it (and herself) over, breaking it into its component parts, and making enough noise to signal anyone within three floors where she was. She started to get back up and yelped as her left ankle refused to take her weight.

Oh no, I must have twisted it, now I can’t run, what am I going to do, somebody help me, somebody help me...

The troll rounded the corner, saw her, and roared, lumbering towards her.

"YAAAHHH!" yelled three voices in chorus.

The troll stopped dead, looking around in perplexity for the source of this new sound. As it turned sideways, two figures darted behind it — Draco and Ron. Hermione had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

"Are you all right?" Draco demanded, dropping to his knees beside her.

"No, it’s my ankle, I can’t walk — where’s Harry?"

A minor explosion went off on the other side of the troll, pulling its attention.

"There," said Ron, snatching up a piece of the suit of armor and flinging it, missing the troll but hitting the wall with a loud clatter, making the troll look around again.

"Keep doing that!" Harry’s voice shouted. "Keep it distracted!"

Ron threw another piece at the wall deliberately, then another at the opposite wall, making the troll whip its head back and forth as it tried to find the source of the sounds. Then, suddenly, it was roaring and clawing at its face, doing what looked like a crazed dance in the hallway, and as it turned slightly Hermione saw why — Harry was clinging to the back of the troll’s head, his arms around its neck, and his wand had gone up its nose.

"Draco!" Harry yelled over the troll’s roars. "Get Hermione out of here!"

"But—"

"That’s an order!"

Draco growled slightly, then bent down and pulled Hermione to her feet, draping her arm over his shoulders. "Come on."

Ron fired a furious barrage of armor to cover their retreat as they hobbled in awkward lockstep around the corner, down the hall, and through the door of the nearest secret passage, one place they were sure the troll couldn’t follow them.

"I knew we’d regret making him the alpha," Draco grumbled, leaning against the stone wall.

"I hope they’ll be all right," said Hermione anxiously. Her pendant was still cold against her skin, and she was sure if she pulled it out, the carving of the wolf cub would be glowing. "Where does this passage go?"

"I’m not sure, but we’d better follow it anyway. We need to get you to the hospital wing, and we definitely shouldn’t go back out there with a troll on the loose."

Hermione almost balked at the sight of stairs part way through the passage — she had to go on hands and one foot the last flight and a half. "We’re much too high for the hospital wing," Draco said at the top. "It’s only on the first floor — we must be at least on the fourth by now—"

Hermione pushed a tapestry aside, and they looked out into a corridor near the Charms classroom. "Not quite," she said. "Third floor."

"Ssh!" Draco said suddenly.

"Alohomora!" a man’s voice echoed down the hall. Then panicked screaming erupted, mingled with roaring not unlike that of the troll, only this was more growly, thought Hermione, listening in unwilling fascination. And there seemed to be more of it somehow...

A door slammed. "Compingo!" shouted another voice, this one highly enunciated, thoroughly familiar, and quite unwelcome. "Quirinus, you fool, what did you think you were doing?"

"S-S-Severus! Th-thank you, I had n-no idea... I m-merely wanted to be sure the t-t-troll hadn’t been some kind of d-d-diversion..."

"Oh, I’m quite sure you did," said Snape icily. "Quite sure. And now you’ve seen what’s guarding it, haven’t you..."

"Th-three heads," stammered the other man, who must be Professor Quirrell. "It’s m-magical..."

"No doubt. Shall I escort you to the hospital wing? You seem to have hurt yourself." Snape’s voice oozed contempt.

"N-no, thank you, I th-think I can manage..."

"No, I insist."

Draco and Hermione peered through the tapestry to see Snape and Quirrell come around the corner, Quirrell pale under his purple turban and limping somewhat on one foot. Snape’s face was even more sour than usual — he looked as if he’d been chewing on a lemon, Hermione thought, carefully stifling a laugh.

"Three heads?" Draco murmured when the teachers had rounded the corner.

"It must be the forbidden corridor," said Hermione suddenly. "Third floor, right hand side — yes, it is! It’s whatever didn’t show up on the Map — that’s what has three heads, that’s what was growling!"

Draco frowned. "Wait a minute. Mrs. Norris shows up on the Map, doesn’t she?"

Hermione nodded.

"But she’s not a person. She’s just a cat. So if whatever’s on the other side of that door is alive, it should show up on the Map too. Why didn’t it?"

Hermione swallowed. "I don’t know." The thought that maybe the Marauder’s Map wasn’t the infallible resource they had thought it was worried her. "But I think we have to see whatever’s behind that door for ourselves."

"Are you crazy?" Draco hissed. "You can’t even walk! It’d get us for sure!"

"I never said we should open the door. Doors have keyholes, don’t they?"

"Let me make sure I’m hearing this right. Hermione Granger-Lupin is encouraging me to break the rules?"

"Not break. Just bend. And I am a Marauder’s daughter. What were you expecting?"

Draco groaned. "Fine. You win. Come on."

The locked door wasn’t hard to find. Hermione slid into a sitting position against the opposite wall as Draco bent to peer through the keyhole. "It’s blocked," he said. "Someone’s blocked it up, I can’t see anything..."

"Move over." Hermione aimed her wand at the hole. "Waddiwasi!" A piece of used chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and plastered itself to the wall beside her. "Probably Peeves," she said, putting her wand away.

Draco knelt down and applied his eye to the keyhole again.

"Well?" Hermione prompted when the silence grew too long for her to stand.

"Dog," Draco said shortly.

"With three heads?"

"Yeah, it’s pretty scary-looking. Hold on a second—" Draco got to his feet, angling his eye downward through the small hole. "There’s something in the floor. Looks like... a handle. Might be a trapdoor."

"‘Now you’ve seen what’s guarding it,’" Hermione murmured. "Guarding what?"

"I don’t know," Draco said, standing up. "But we have to get out of here. A teacher could be along any minute. All aboard, next stop hospital wing."

xXxXx

Danger and Sirius were practicing their newest sport — partner pacing. It could be done either in parallel or contrary motion. At the moment, they were displaying classic contrary motion style, though Sirius, with his longer stride, showed a tendency to creep up on Danger, threatening to overtake her at any time...

If partner pacing is our sport, performing silliness in a serious way is yours.

Remus spread his hands. What can I say to the truth?

Danger rolled her shoulders without breaking stride. I hope they’re going to be all right.

They should be. It didn’t look bad — no blood, no broken limbs — I have a feeling the worst either of them will have suffered is a mild concussion. Harry’s not in danger of dying, that we know, and he and Ron appear to have been hurt about the same...

I wonder if anyone thought to notify Molly.

She may have seen it on her clock... Remus looked up. Ah-ha.

Darn werewolf senses. Ah-ha what?

Redheads at three o’clock.

What should I do until then?

Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Remus stood up from his place beside the door as Molly and Ginny Weasley came into view, both breathing fairly hard. "Yours too," Molly said. "I should have known. What were they into?"

"As I understand it, they went looking for a troll that got into the school somehow and got themselves flattened," Sirius said in annoyance. Molly groaned. Ginny looked intrigued.

"I’m sure they had a good reason," said Remus calmly.

"A good reason?" Danger was more than a little annoyed. She stared at the closed door to the hospital wing, which also happened to be the general direction of her Pack-brother. "A good reason to almost get themselves killed? If Lockhart hadn’t been as close as he was..."

"Don’t yell at me," Sirius protested. "I didn’t do it."

And probably for the first time in his life, that’s the truth, Remus noted.

xXxXx

Two slim, dark fingers were pressed firmly against Ron Weasley’s pale neck. The other small hand held a watch. The grey eyes were fixed on its dial.

"Sixty-four," Meghan said, looking up at her mother and Madam Pomfrey.

The nurse held out her hand for the watch and checked Ron’s pulse herself. "Very good," she said in approval. "Try Mr. Potter now."

Meghan trotted decorously around the bed, her usual boisterous movements curtailed in the sober environment of the hospital wing. After fifteen seconds timing Harry’s pulse, she closed her eyes in thought for a moment, then announced that his was sixty-eight.

"Returning to normal, excellent. Can you find the Gentle Revival Draft for me? It’s on the second shelf from the floor, on your left as you go in the door, in a tall, thin, green bottle. Thank you, dear. She’s so helpful," Madam Pomfrey said to Aletha as Meghan vanished through the office door. "And she’s only seven, or is it eight?"

"She was eight in June."

"I must say, I was a bit leery about allowing her to remain in here with you, but you insisted, and I’m so glad you did — she’s been so very quiet, so observant — does she show any interest in Healing as a career?"

Aletha shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. "It’s early to be thinking of that, isn’t it?"

"Nonsense, it’s never too early to be thinking of things. As I recall, you once thought of a career in Healing yourself — whatever became of that?"

Aletha sighed. "It didn’t agree with me. I decided to do something a bit less challenging. Secretarial work suited me well. Then, after everything happened, I became a full-time housewife and part-time music teacher, and that’s where I’m content to stay." Please, please, just stop asking — it’s hard enough dealing with my old troubles when I see Meghan interested in Healing, without all these damn questions making it worse...

Meghan emerged from the office with the potion bottle in her hand just as Harry stirred, and the conversation was effectively over.

What if Meghan did decide to become a Healer or a mediwitch? Could I live with that?

Aletha heard Molly Weasley’s voice outside the room, and the cold feeling at the pit of her stomach redoubled.

And what if Molly finds out what happened?

She sighed. Here we go again with secrets...

The noise in the corridor suddenly doubled for a moment, with Danger’s voice making itself heard above the rest: "Draco! Hermione! Are you all right?"

Aletha slipped out of the room, leaving Madam Pomfrey and Meghan to take care of the two boys.

Draco was submitting to being ferociously hugged by Danger, and Remus was holding Hermione like an oversized baby in his arms. "She’s twisted her ankle," he said to Aletha, seeing her looking. "Draco’s all right."

"How are the boys?" asked Molly anxiously.

"They have mild concussions, nothing serious. They’re waking up right now."

Everyone relaxed visibly. "Good," Danger said. "Then I can go throw Harry out the window."

"You need a new threat," said Remus.

"Fine, I’ll throw you out the window."

"That wasn’t what I meant."

"Should have been more specific, then."

The door creaked open. "You can all come in now," Meghan announced solemnly. "But you have to stay quiet."

Remus, carrying Hermione, was first through the door. Madam Pomfrey clucked over her and sent Meghan off for another potion from her office. Sirius went straight to the bed containing the dark-haired boy and Molly to the one with the redhead. Aletha laughed as she heard the identical first words out of their mouths:

"What were you thinking?"

"Huh?" was Ron’s response. Aletha smiled and tuned that half of the room out in favor of her own Pack.

"What happened?" Harry asked, looking around in confusion.

"You got your head bashed in by a troll, that’s what happened," Sirius said, sounding almost angry, though Aletha knew at least half of what he was feeling was actually fear. The expression on his face when the pendants went cold — God, I hope I never see it again...

But she knew she was likely to see it far too many times over the next years.

"Why in the world would you do something that harebrained?" Danger was asking now.

"I remember... going looking for the troll," said Harry, screwing up his face. "Hermione was in trouble, we had to find her. And then... nothing." He looked around at his Pack-parents in sudden panic. "Is she all right? Did it get her?"

"I’m fine," Hermione called from the other end of the ward. "I twisted my ankle, that’s all."

"We did find her," said Draco, joining the group around Harry’s bed. "You ordered me to get her away. The last I saw, you and Ron were throwing things at the troll. What happened then?"

Harry shook his head, wincing slightly at the movement. "I... don’t remember."

"Perfectly normal," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over. "Concussions can cause mild memory loss, nothing to worry about. You and Mr. Weasley will have to stay overnight, Mr. Potter, just in case of complications, but that’s highly unlikely."

"Can we have a little time with Harry before he goes to bed?" Remus asked. "It’s something of a special night for us."

"Would you like to be private?"

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea."

Screens were appropriately drawn, and the Pack gathered around Harry’s bed.

"It’s days like this that make me wonder if there really is such a thing as Fate," Sirius began. "With my thinking tending towards yes. I was absolutely petrified when my pendant went cold. I’d be scared any day that someone I love was in ‘mortal peril,’ but this day in particular. It’s ten years tonight since my world fell apart."

Harry looked suddenly very ashamed of himself as Sirius went on. "Since then, I’ve managed — with a lot of help — to put it back together. But I was terrified today that Fate had decided, for one reason or another, that Sirius Black didn’t deserve this much happiness, and was going to start taking it apart again."

"This is why I love you," said Aletha, smiling wryly at her husband. "You can take anything and make it all about you. But I suppose everyone does that, to some extent. You three," she turned to Harry, Draco, and Hermione, the two who were not actually in the bed sitting on it, "scared me out of my wits today. Don’t do it again."

"You dishonor your parents’ memory by risking your life foolishly, Harry," said Remus quietly. "Please be more careful."

A tinge of rebellion crept onto Harry’s face. "We had to," he said defensively. "We had to find Hermione... she was in trouble—"

"Next time, tell a teacher," Danger said emphatically. "Don’t — please don’t — go running off on what looks like adventures. Adventures are only enjoyable to read or hear about after they’re over. While they’re happening, they’re scary, messy, and painful. I speak from experience."

"And I think that’s enough scolding for one night," Remus concluded. "How was the feast?"

xXxXx

The Pack talked for nearly an hour, and only left when Madam Pomfrey ejected them, at the same time as she told Molly Weasley and Ginny to leave. Ginny waved good night to the cubs as she passed. Harry waved back, and Ginny turned quickly away.

"Somebody likes you," Draco sing-songed, grinning.

Harry whomped his brother with his pillow.

Ginny does not like me. And even if she did, why should I care?

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you see if Madam Pomfrey’ll let you get something for me and come back?"

"What do you want?"

"My photo album."

Madam Pomfrey looked skeptical, but allowed it, and Draco hurried out of the hospital wing and returned ten minutes later with Harry’s red-leather-bound album.

"Thanks," Harry said, accepting it. "Good night."

"’Night, Harry. ’Night, Ron."

"’Night," Ron called from his bed.

Harry opened the book to the first page. James and Lily Potter waved up at him, Lily occasionally taking hold of baby Harry’s hand to make him wave too.

I’m sorry, Harry told his parents silently. I won’t do it again. I promise.

Unfortunately, it was a promise he would find difficult, if not impossible, to keep.

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