Maybe
Chapter 6
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 6
It took all Aletha’s self-discipline to get up the next morning when her alarm clock went off. She so wanted to stay where she was — cradled against Sirius, his breath warm against her ear, with one of his arms under her neck and the other draped over her chest.
I have a feeling we’ll be doing a lot of cuddling for a while. In and out of bed. We’re Pack — we need touch — and it’s been denied to us for what feels like a very long time.
The cubs don’t even know that they need it... at least, not Hermione and Harry...
That was what finally got her moving — the thought of Harry, and the sudden recollection that she’d see him today.
And once he’s in my office... just have to play it by ear. She smiled at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. I should be good at that.
She finished with her preparations in record time, scribbled a note to leave on the table, and knocked twice on the inside of their door to the hall.
"All clear," called the voice of Serpina, their portrait guardian. Serpina had had family troubles of her own when she was alive, and had gladly taken on the job of letting the Pack know when it was and wasn’t safe to leave their Den.
"Morning, ‘Pina," said Aletha, closing the portrait behind her.
"Good morning, love, how are you?"
"I’m just fine. A little sleepy, but on my way to rectify that."
"You go on, then, and have a good day."
"I’ll try."
Aletha walked three paintings down and tickled the pear, granting herself admittance to the Hogwarts kitchens. Two or three house-elves immediately stopped what they were doing to wait on her, and she got the croissant and mug of tea she wanted in less time than she would have believed possible.
Living here has distinct advantages.
She ate quickly, catching the crumbs with her hand. She had to be at work in less than fifteen minutes, more to keep up appearances than anything. Harry was her last appointment for today — she’d had to play around with the schedule quite a bit to make that happen, but she’d done it.
Just this one day. That’s all.
Then I can finally make my move.
She Flooed from the kitchens to the Leaky Cauldron, putting on her glasses in a dark corner there and emerging as Miss Alice Anderson, school counselor.
Here we go.
She Disapparated, fixing her flat in her mind. From there, she knew, it was only a five minute walk to the school.
xXxXx
Some time later, Sirius roused, momentarily confused as to where he was and why he was so comfortable.
His eyes snapped open as he remembered. The trial — it’s today —
Then he grinned as he remembered further. They’re going to have to reschedule it, I think. Can’t have a trial without a defendant.
And he wasn’t planning on showing up.
He sat up and took a look around the room. It was fairly small, but in a cozy sort of way. It made him feel as if he was really in a den — he suspected it was underground.
Wonder what the rest of the place looks like.
Only one way to find out.
He got up and meandered out into a comfortable living/dining space, somehow not surprised to see Remus and Danger already there. "Morning," he said noncommittally.
"Good morning," answered Remus over the top of the Daily Prophet. "You’re not in the paper — I suppose they hadn’t found out yet by the time they printed it."
Sirius grinned. "I can’t wait to see what they have to say about me this time." He walked around behind Danger, knelt beside her chair, and bowed his head to her. "I am your most humble servant, my lady," he said melodramatically. "Command me."
Danger groaned and rapped his head with the end of her teaspoon. "Get up."
"That’s a command, I must obey." Sirius got up and seated himself at the table, which he now noticed had eight chairs around it. Optimistic thinking, that. "You should start a club," he said. "The ‘I saved Sirius Black’s arse’ club. You two and Letha could be the founding members."
"We’d be unlikely to get any bigger," said Danger through a mouthful of porridge. She swallowed and continued. "Considering most of the country wouldn’t lift a finger to help you if you were falling into a volcano."
"Thank you for that lovely image right before breakfast."
"Speaking of which." Remus folded the newspaper and picked up a small silver bell which Sirius hadn’t noticed on the table. He gave it a quick shake, and before the ringing had entirely died away, a house-elf had appeared in the room.
"What would sirs and ma’am like?" it squeaked.
"Cornflakes for me, please," said Remus. "And a refill on the tea." He tapped his mug.
"Erm, porridge, please," said Sirius. "With brown sugar if you have it."
"Of course, sir. Right away." The creature disappeared.
Sirius regarded the place where it had been. "Room service. Very nice."
"I’ll give you the guided tour after breakfast," said Danger. "Remus is going Hermione-hunting." She looked away for a moment, obviously worried, a sentiment Sirius couldn’t help but share. He cared deeply about the girl, even if she was primarily Moony’s Kitten.
Poor little thing... hope she’s all right.
xXxXx
Jane picked at her breakfast. She wasn’t really hungry, but she knew she had to eat. If she didn’t eat, they would think she was sick, and there would be more doctors and more pinching and poking and questions.
She was sick — sick of questions. She had lots of questions herself, but nobody had any answers.
xXxXx
The Nott’s house-elf, whose name Draco had yet to learn, brought him a tray in his room. He thanked it politely, and it stared at him before disappearing.
I guess it isn’t used to people being polite.
xXxXx
Harry was able to steal a piece of toast when no one was looking. He pretended he’d forgotten to make his bed and crawled back into his cupboard, where he ate it quickly, trying not to get crumbs on the sheets.
I should be all right now. I never much like what Aunt Petunia packs me for lunch anyway.
xXxXx
Augusta Longbottom sipped her tea and listened to her grandson and the foster child talking.
Perhaps this is what the boy needs. Someone to listen to him, to draw him out. They do seem to have common interests.
Augusta allowed herself a small smile — a rare occurrence, twice in two days — as the girl’s laugh rang out clearly from the other end of the table.
I believe I like this child.
xXxXx
At the Ministry of Magic a bit later that morning, all was chaos.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, GONE?" bellowed Lars Vilias.
"Lars, please calm down," said Amelia Bones, feeling an awful sense of déjà vu overcoming her. They’d had something very like this conversation nearly nine years before, only then he had been telling her the news. "I mean, gone. As in, he wasn’t there this morning."
"How the hell could this happen?" Lars snapped at her. "Are your Aurors that damn incompetent?"
Just like children — whenever they do something wrong, they’re my Aurors. "No, they’re not. But Black obviously knows some kind of Dark magic which allows him to escape our custody. Either that or he has powerful friends."
xXxXx
The tiny figure of the Minister of Magic waved its arms in the bowl. "More powerful than the entire magical government of Britain?" his voice demanded, a bit tinny because of the spell that was reproducing it. "More powerful than our best warding spells?"
"I’ve seen enough," said one of the two occupants of the small, dark room elsewhere in the Ministry with a long-suffering sigh. "Turn it off."
The other man complied.
"This might actually be a lucky break for us," the first man said, standing up and beginning to pace around the room. "It makes Vilias’ administration look incompetent. But I do want Black brought to justice." He twisted the hem of his cloak in his hands as if he wished he were wringing Sirius Black’s neck. "You said you had kept track of the others?"
"Yes, sir. I’m not entirely certain where Black’s wife is at the moment, but the werewolf and his woman were spotted in Surrey. They won’t get near the Potter boy, though — we’ve got surveillance on him at all times."
"Fine. The Muggleborn girl?"
"Still where we left her, no sign of a change."
"Good." The man continued to pace. "I want you to go around the children today, Curcio," he said. "I want you to check on them all. Make sure they’re... adjusting properly to their new homes. You know what I mean."
Christopher Curcio smiled. It was not a nice expression. "Yes, sir, I do."
xXxXx
After he finished his breakfast, Draco decided to go exploring. He started small, getting to know the area of the house where his bedroom was, then gradually expanded his search radius.
"...anything?"
It was Mr. Nott’s voice. Draco flattened himself against the wall instinctively and listened.
"No, nothing at all."
Draco’s breath caught. He knew the other man’s voice as well — and he didn’t like it.
Who is that?
"Strange. Yesterday, he blacked Theodore’s eye after Theodore asked him a question about Sirius Black. Theodore bloodied his nose, of course."
Just barely. Draco allowed himself a smug smile. And I really nailed him...
The other man grunted. "I don’t like that. May I see him?"
"Of course. Let me send Brilly to get him."
Draco made tracks towards his room, having no wish to be found by Brilly, whatever that was, listening to what was obviously supposed to be a private conversation...
"Little sir," said the house-elf, appearing in front of him. "The master wants you in his study. Brilly is to take you there, sir."
"Thanks." Draco followed the creature back the way he’d just come, thinking about what he’d heard.
That bloke, whoever he is, doesn’t like something. Something about me? Me and Padfoot?
Suddenly the voice triggered the relevant memory in his mind, and he growled under his breath, stopping dead.
It was the same voice that had convinced Hermione that she was an orphan named Jane with no one to love her, the same voice that had told Harry that he slept in a cupboard every night.
Curcio!
He knows — or maybe he just suspects — that Aunt Andy got the Memory Charm off me — he must be here to do it again!
Draco’s mind raced. What should I do, what should I do...
"Sir?" the house-elf — Brilly — questioned, looking up at him anxiously. "Master does not like to be kept waiting, sir."
"I’m coming."
xXxXx
"Ah, there you are," said Patroclus Nott as the boy walked into the room. "Draco, this is Mr. Curcio, from Wizarding Family Services."
Curcio laughed internally, while presenting the outward demeanor of the concerned casewizard and extending his hand for the boy to shake.
Ah, child, if you only knew what happened the last time I saw you.
But do you?
That’s what I’m here to find out.
Nott left the room, and the boy sat down on one of the chairs, looking at him curiously.
"So, Draco," Curcio began. "Who did you live with before you came here?"
"My Aunt Andy."
"And who before her?"
The boy frowned. "I’m not sure. It’s all kind of mixed up in my head."
Good. Excellent. "Tell me, Draco, have you ever met Sirius Black?"
Draco’s frown deepened. "No. I hit Theodore yesterday when he asked me that. He was being stupid, acting like I lived with the man. Just because our last names are the same doesn’t mean we lived together."
Better and better. "And do you know Harry Potter at all?"
"The Boy Who Lived?" Draco shook his head. "No, sir. I wish I did, though. That would be kind of neat, knowing him."
Perfect. Just what we need. "Thank you, Draco, that’s all I need to know. It was nice meeting you. You can go now." He stood up and shook the boy’s hand again, and watched him leave the room.
Nott came back in. "Is he all right?" he asked without preamble.
"Couldn’t be better."
"I still am not quite clear on why your people have chosen this sort of revenge," said Nott, seating himself at his desk. "Why this game with the children, for instance?"
Curcio smiled. "According to the people we interviewed, Black is a devoted family man. Dotes on his children. What better way to torture him than, first, make him wonder what’s happened to them for months, then, second, just when he thinks he might have a tiny chance of getting them back, tell him they don’t even know him any more?"
Nott nodded. "I see. And Black’s friends..."
"The werewolf deserved everything that happened to him and more." Curcio shuddered. He hated things which were not human, but looked it. "And any woman insane enough to marry one... well. And Black’s woman is a good little wife and mother, loves her children and her husband to death. What could be worse for her than being free as a bird, but not able to get near any of them?"
Nott chuckled. "I like the way your mind works, Curcio. If you should ever get tired of Ministry work, do send me an owl. I could always use a man like you."
xXxXx
Curcio’s next stop was at Longbottom House. But here he met an unexpected snag.
"Why do you want to see the girl?" asked the older witch who must be Mrs. Longbottom, looking at him challengingly.
"It’s just a routine check-in, ma’am. To make sure she’s settling in well."
"She is settling in perfectly well. She and my grandson are in the greenhouse at the moment, tending to some of the plants. It’s delicate work, and I don’t want them disturbed. You can come back this afternoon if you must."
And before Curcio could muster a protest, the door was closed in his face.
He stared at it for a moment, then shrugged.
I can always come back. It’s not like it matters what order I do these in.
xXxXx
Augusta Longbottom gave a satisfied nod. It had pleased her greatly to send the sly-looking young man packing. She didn’t trust him.
She resolved to say that Meghan was taking a nap when he returned.
xXxXx
Curcio headed next for the primary school in Surrey where he knew the Potter boy should be. Sure enough, as he approached the playground, he saw the black-haired boy sitting off to one side, staring wistfully at the other children running and playing.
"Hey, you," he hissed.
Potter jumped. "Me?"
"Yeah, you. Come here a second."
Warily, Potter approached him.
"I just want you to look at something." Curcio held it up.
The boy looked at it through the chain-link fence that separated the playground from the next lot over without comprehension.
"Thanks," said Curcio, putting his secret weapon back in his pocket. We’re still good here.
"Er, you’re welcome." The boy sat back down where he had been.
xXxXx
That was weird, Harry thought. Why’d he want to show me the name of a star and some bloke from ancient history? And why’d it say they were dead?
He shook his head, very carefully, since he was feeling more and more dizzy as the day progressed. He’s probably high or drunk or something. Not my problem.
xXxXx
The Fat Lady returned to her portrait around lunchtime after a pleasant visit with Violet on the ground floor and discovered a big black dog sitting across the hall, staring at her wistfully.
"Oh, what do you want," she said, marching to the fore of the portrait and looking out at him. "Do you want to come in? Is that it?"
The dog wagged its tail.
"Well, do you know the password?"
The dog looked dejected.
The Fat Lady sighed. "Poor thing. But it’s the rules. No one goes in without the password."
The dog lay down on the floor, looking excessively sad.
A couple of fourth year girls came down the hall. "Ooh, look at him!" cried one of them, pointing at the dog. "He’s so sweet!"
"I just want to love him to death," said the other, already petting the creature, who perked up immediately with the attention.
"I wonder if he could get through the portrait hole?" asked the first one.
"Only one way to find out," said the second. "Seafoam green," she said to the Fat Lady.
"You’re responsible for him," the Fat Lady warned them as she let the portrait swing open. "Anything he tears up, you’ll have to answer for."
"Oh, he won’t tear things up," said the first one, hugging the dog. "He’s just a big sweetie puppy, aren’t you, cutie pie?"
The Fat Lady thought she detected a hint of chagrin in the dog’s eyes before it passed out of her sight.
xXxXx
Draco felt alternately proud of himself and dirty. Proud, for being able to pull off the scam that he was still Obliviated — dirty, because he’d shaken the hand of the man who had done such awful things to his family. Twice.
I did what I had to.
But he still felt horrid.
I wonder if they have a library here.
He climbed off his bed and went to go look.
xXxXx
Outside, the bushes at the edge of the Nott estate stirred as something invisible brushed past them.
I’m here, the invisible something said silently. What kinds of wards do you think they might have?
xXxXx
Jane was in the library of the Holy Family Children’s Home, curled up in one of the armchairs, her lion on her lap and a book in her hands.
Suddenly, one of those things was no longer true.
"What’s this?" sneered one of the newer girls, Carolyn, holding the lion out of Jane’s reach. "You like to play with stuffed animals, White? That’s baby stuff. You need to grow up some. What say I help you? Flush this little baby down the loo?"
xXxXx
I don’t know, answered Remus as he strolled down a London street, headed for the next children’s home on his list. He was going in reverse alphabetical order, and he had just finished at the Infants’ and Children’s Home. Just keep your eyes and ears open, and set decoys if you possibly can —
As he turned in at the entrance to his destination, nodding to the other man who walked in a moment ahead of him, his pendants flared hot, hotter than he had ever felt before. He dropped to one knee and bent over, trying to get the hot metal away from his skin.
Who on earth —
Someone screamed inside the Home. That was the only warning.
Every window in the place blew out, showering the courtyard with broken glass. Remus, down on the ground near the courtyard wall, was out of the way of most of it, but he still felt the sting of one piece in his arm, and the other man yelled in shock and pain. The pendants were still burning hot as Remus managed to get them out of his shirt to see —
Hermione. Something’s wrong with her.
The other man, bleeding from multiple cuts along his arms, swore and started running toward the front door of the Home. "Accidental magic," Remus heard him say, and suddenly everything made sense. She’s here — that was her — someone must have frightened her or made her angry somehow — God, I hope she didn’t hurt anyone —
He followed the other man at a run, vaguely hearing Danger’s half-excited, half-worried thoughts as she threw herself open and tracked with him, using his senses, sharing his mind —
She’s more like you than you know, he said, smiling grimly as he followed the screaming, which hadn’t let up. Shattering glass by screeching at it.
Shut up and run.
Remus rounded the last corner and froze at the sight that met his eyes.