True Colors
Chapter 7: Right and Wrong
By Anne B. Walsh
"So what do you think could be hidden behind that dog?" Ron asked, staring into the common room fire.
"Honestly, I have no idea." Ray, who had returned an hour or so ago looking windblown but satisfied, had his arm over Zelda. "It has to be valuable, but Harry, you said Father was talking like it was dangerous, too?"
Harry frowned, trying to recall the conversation. "Not so much that it was dangerous itself, I think," he said slowly. "More like it was dangerous to have it here. Like bad things might come here. Looking for it, maybe."
"Something very magical, then," Neville said. "There are creatures that get stronger by eating magic from other things and creatures. And Dark wizards who do it too. Like Voldemort."
Ron shuddered. "Don’t do that."
Oh, stop it, Ronald. It’s only a name. A name can’t hurt anyone. Zelda’s tail thumped the floor a few times. Usually.
"My point exactly." Ron flung out his hand. "Usually."
"But why will saying Voldemort’s name hurt you?" Harry asked.
Ron groaned. "I can’t believe you don’t know this! If you say his name, you get his attention! Names are attached to the things they name, everyone knows that!"
"Names," Harry said slowly. "Names... wait a minute! Malfoy — your dad, Ray, sorry—"
"Call him Malfoy, that’s fine with me."
"Fine. Malfoy said a name — someone Dumbledore’s friends with — someone who’s got something to do with whatever that dog’s guarding." Harry pounded on his forehead. "Ugh, what was it? What was it?"
"Look at the fire," Neville suggested. "Mum always says she can find what she’s looking for just by watching the shapes in the flames."
"Flames," Harry repeated. "It sounded like flames. But it wasn’t. Not quite, not nearly..."
Not... Flamel? Zelda said tentatively.
"Yes!" Harry shot a fist into the air. "Zelda, you’re brilliant! Flamel, that was it!"
Ron, Neville, and Ray all looked baffled. Ron voiced the obvious common thought.
"Who’s Flamel?"
Harry shrugged. "Don’t know. Guess we could look it up."
Zelda sighed gustily. Or you could ask the person who told you about it.
Harry turned exaggeratedly to her. "All right, oh wise oracle, who’s Flamel?"
His full name is Nicolas Flamel. He’s a famous alchemist. He’s the only one ever known to have created the Philosopher’s Stone.
"You’re kidding," Ray said, staring at her.
No.
"What’s the Philosopher’s Stone?" asked Neville.
"It’s this little rock, about so big." Ray cupped one hand. "It’s red, translucent, sort of like a ruby. But it’s incredibly magical. Touch it to anything made of metal, and it turns into gold. And if you know the right incantation, it produces the Elixir of Life."
"What does that do?" Ron asked, looking fascinated.
"It makes you immortal, as long as you have it." Ray’s familiar half-smile appeared. "I wondered, when I read about that, who would want to live forever."
"Are you crazy?" said Ron, staring at him. "Who wouldn’t want to live forever?"
"Don’t start, you two," Harry said. "Zelda, you wouldn’t know if Flamel knows Dumbledore, would you?"
Zelda’s twisted wolf-grin looked remarkably like Ray’s smile. They’ve been alchemy partners since Dumbledore was a teenager. Some people think Dumbledore drinks just a little Elixir every so often, and that’s how he’s got so old, even for a wizard.
"So that’s what the dog’s guarding," said Harry. "The Philosopher’s Stone."
"It’s probably not just the dog, either," said Neville. "Not for something that valuable."
"What, the dog isn’t enough?" Ron scoffed. "The dog that could rip your head off three different ways before breakfast?"
But there has to be some way past the dog, Ron. Some way for people like Flamel, or Dumbledore, to get at the Stone if they need it.
Ray nodded. "And if they know the way past the dog, then someone else could use it too. There’s bound to be other things down there. Just in case."
Ron shrugged, admitting defeat. "Probably really neat magic, too," he said, turning back to the fire. "Wish I could find out what it is."
A line of thought occurred to Harry. Curious, he followed it, and found something valuable at the far end. "I bet we could," he said. "If we ask the right person."
"Who’s that?" Neville asked.
"Hagrid."
Hagrid? Zelda sat up. Harry, I like Hagrid, I’ve nothing against him, but why would you think he’d have anything to do with the Philosopher’s Stone?
Harry grinned. This question, he could answer. "Number one, Dumbledore trusts him. And number two, who else around here would know how to take care of a three-headed dog?"
Hagrid was duly visited and queried the next day. He was shocked that the boys knew about "Fluffy" (which name nearly made Ron pass out), but admitted the dog was his, bought from a Greek wizard last year. "Sweet critter, really he is," he said. "Not as nice as Fang, o’course." He waved towards the boarhound, curled up in his basket as usual. "But he’s deadly if yeh don’ know how ter deal with him."
"You know how to deal with him, though, don’t you?" Ray asked, leaning forward. "You must, to have brought him into the school without letting him get away."
"Ar, that was easy," Hagrid said, waving a dismissive hand. "I just sent him off ter sleep an’ carried him in."
"What did you use, charm or potion?" Neville asked.
Hagrid chuckled. "You don’ need no charm or potion fer Fluffy! Yeh jus’ gotta sing him a lullaby, tha’s all..."
An expression of sudden worry crept onto his face, escalating rapidly to panic. "I shouldn’a told yeh that!" he blurted. "Ferget I said it!"
"Said what?" said Ron.
Hagrid heaved a great sigh and smiled. "Knew I could count on yeh."
"But we were hoping you could tell us a little more about what’s down there," said Harry, seizing the moment. "Not what Fluffy’s guarding, we don’t care about that..."
Especially not since you already know, Zelda interjected.
Harry ignored this and went on. "...but what else is there besides Fluffy, because Fred and George told us Professor Quirrell assigned them an essay in their first year about protective magics, before he took his year off."
"Yeah, we were hoping we could find out some of the stuff they used down there," Ron picked up. "Research it, and maybe take one thing apiece so it doesn’t look like we cheated."
"We’ll get extra points for knowing about advanced magic," Neville added.
"Please, Hagrid?" Ray said, tilting his head to one side in an almost feminine manner. "It would really help us."
"Well..." Hagrid wavered visibly. "I can’ tell yeh much abou’ the actual spells an’ such," he said finally. "But I can tell yeh who did a part, and you’ll prob’ly be able to take it from there. Professor Quirrell did a bit, o’ course, Defense professor, an’ all the Heads o’ House..."
"What, even Snape?" Ron blurted.
"I thought we were over this," Hagrid said impatiently. "Snape’s a Hogwarts professor, he wouldn’ try anything Dumbledore wouldn’ like. Dumbledore trusts him, so do I, an’ tha’s final. Now where was I?"
"Quirrell and the Heads of House," Neville supplied.
"Well, Dumbledore himself, o’ course... an’ I think that’s it. But that’s six, an’ there’s only four o’ you, so yeh shouldn’ have much trouble findin’ some good examples fer that essay." Hagrid stood up. "Now, who’d like some tea?"
"How come you acted like that, when we were working on Hagrid?" Harry asked Ray on the way back to the castle.
"Like what?"
"Like this." Harry tipped his head to one side in imitation of Ray. "Please, Hagrid?" he fluted in a falsetto.
"Stop it," Ray said, scooping up a handful of snow without breaking stride. "I did not sound like that."
Harry garnered a handful of his own in self-defense. "Maybe not just like that, but you were close," he said. "What were you doing?"
Ray shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I remembered what Hagrid said after the Quidditch match," he said. "When he said I reminded him of that girl he used to know, the one who married your dad’s friend. I thought maybe if I tried to act a little like a girl, he’d see her in me again, and..."
Harry nodded. "Okay. I can see that now." Something occurred to him. "She had a sister, you know. Danger, I mean, the girl Hagrid thought sounded like you. A really little sister, just about our age. She would have been at Hogwarts with us, or maybe a year below."
"What happened to her?" Ray asked.
"Nobody knows." Harry looked into the distance, wondering, as he so often had. "She disappeared the day her parents were killed, before she was even a year old."
Ray winced. "Don’t tell me any more," he said roughly. "Please. I don’t want to know when it happened, or what she looked like, or what her name was, or anything."
"Why not?"
Ray had turned away and was busy packing his snow extra tight. "Father keeps a record book," he said so low that Harry could hardly hear. "With dates and pictures, and names when he bothered to learn them. He makes me read pages of it when I do something he doesn’t like. I don’t want to know if I ever saw her face, or read her name, without knowing about it."
He hurled the snowball. Zelda, far ahead, spun and leaped to catch it in a white crystalline explosion.
"I’m sorry," Harry said quietly.
"It’s not your fault." Ray bent to pick up another handful of snow. "But you are stupid."
"I am not st—"
Ray’s fresh snowball caught Harry squarely in the mouth.
"How can it be the last day of holidays already?" Ron groaned, picking at the hearthrug.
"Easy," said Neville pedantically. "First it was the first day of holidays, then it was the second day, then it was the third day..."
"No!" Ron clapped his hands over his ears. "Isn’t it bad enough it happened, without you talking about it?"
Ray chuckled, unwrapping a Chocolate Frog. "Ron, are you always like this?" he said.
"Like what?"
Loud, impulsive, and whiny.
"I am not whiny."
"You like to complain," Harry put in.
"It’s not the same thing."
Fine. Zelda snapped her jaws suggestively beneath Ray’s hand until he broke off a piece of Frog for her. Loud, impulsive, and complaining.
"Pretty much," Ron said, opening his own Frog. "At least that’s what the twins tell me."
"Zelda, isn’t that bad for you?" Harry asked, watching the wolf nibble delicately at the chocolate.
What? Oh. No. I have enough human in me that the chocolate’s not poisonous, at least not badly. Besides, I’m not eating enough of it to hurt me...
Zelda’s thoughts broke off in a yelp as the common room fire suddenly turned green. A small form appeared in the flames, spinning more and more slowly, then tumbling out to make a semi-graceful landing on the hearth rug.
"Meghan!" Harry leapt up to hug his little sister. "What are you doing here?"
"Surprise," Meghan said, smiling at him cheekily. "Hello, Neville."
"Hi, Meghan. Are your parents coming too?"
"Right behind me," Meghan said, then looked around the circle. "You have to be Ron," she said, waving. "And you’re Ray, and that’s Zelda." She knelt and extended her hand, palm down, fingers slightly curled. Zelda rose and sniffed the fingers politely as Letha stepped from the flames.
"Gentlemen," Letha greeted the boys, inclining her head to them. "If you’ll wait a moment for my husband to arrive, we can keep to one round of introductions, though I think I can put names to faces fairly easily."
Ron took a surreptitious scoot back from the fireplace. Harry covered a snigger — it seemed his friend hadn’t quite overcome nine years’ worth of fear of the terrible Sirius Black. Ray caught his eye and winked.
Neville, meanwhile, was instructing Meghan on where Zelda liked best to be scratched, and the wolf was sprawled on her back, her eyes glazed with pleasure. Harry would have told him to save his trouble, except that Zelda was, necessarily, a bit different than Padfoot...
All right, stopping there. Harry pulled his mind to a halt before it could start delineating anatomical differences. She’s human under that fur. Not going there.
He swallowed silently as something else came to him. He was used to telling Padfoot everything, all his secrets, all his problems. But he couldn’t tell about Zelda...
"If anyone tells anyone else she’s human, she’ll die," Ray’s voice reminded him in memory.
Harry laughed with everyone else as Padfoot stumbled out of the fire, sneezing, but inwardly he was working out the parameters. I can tell them she’s smart, that ought to be all right. But I can’t tell them how smart, or all of what she’s done. I can tell them she likes to watch us work, but not that she helps...
And he absolutely could not mention that she talked.
"So about your letter," Padfoot said to Harry later, when they were the first out of the game of Exploding Snap. "Just how strange is strange?"
Harry shrugged. "Well... he’s a Malfoy. You told me enough stories about Lucius Malfoy that I assumed they were all like that. But I liked him even when we first met, in Diagon Alley, and now he’s my friend. Him and Zelda."
Oh no — no — I shouldn’t have said that...
"Zelda? The wolf?" Padfoot looked at her, curled under Ray’s chair, her nose twitching at the smoke from the explosions. "Yes, you mentioned she was a bit odd, too..."
"Hagrid says she looks like a werewolf," Harry said quickly, praying he could cover. "Do you think Malfoy — I mean Mr. Malfoy — do you think he could have given her something extra along with that? Some kind of extra brains?"
Padfoot frowned, his eyes still on Zelda. "I suppose he could have. You can transfigure for just about anything if you know what you’re doing. More brains isn’t beyond the bounds of reason. I’d tell you more, but she won’t come anywhere near me."
"Maybe I can get her to come," Harry said, and slid off the couch to cross to the table. Ron was winning, he noticed in passing, only slightly handicapped by a sooty nose. He dropped to his knees beside Ray’s chair. "Come on, Zelda," he coaxed. "My godfather wants to meet you. He’s nice, you’ll like him..."
No. The voice in his head was sulky, but something else hid behind the sullenness.
Harry looked closer, then slid a finger quickly under one of Zelda’s eyes. Zelda growled and snapped at him, but Harry’s hand was already away, and his fingertip shone with tell-tale wetness.
"You’re crying," he said in surprise, his voice masked by a large explosion on the table above.
Yes, I am. And I don’t want to talk about it. So go away! Zelda lifted a paw and bared her claws at him, growling louder.
"All right, I’m going, I’m going." Harry backed away slowly. "Did I say something?"
No. Zelda sighed. Just... don’t let him change forms, Harry. Humans in animal form can see other humans in animal form. If he changes here, with me, he’ll see, and he’ll know, and he’ll say something...
"Oh." Harry stood up, and dodged automatically as cards exploded in front of Ray. Zelda coughed on the smoke.
"So, what’s the verdict?" Padfoot asked lightly as Harry returned to him. "I saw you talking to her."
"She doesn’t want to come out. Maybe some other time."
"Well, maybe if I changed..." Padfoot was already on his feet.
"No!" Harry shot to his feet as well and caught Padfoot’s arm. "She’ll... she’ll think you’re going to fight her for territory," he said in a rush. "Ray told us she’s very territorial, she doesn’t like other creatures on her ground. She’ll try to fight you, and you’ll get hurt, or she will..."
"More likely me," Padfoot said, dropping back to the couch. "She has claws, I don’t. All right, human I stay."
"Yes!" Ron shouted, and slammed his hand down, causing a table-wide explosion. Harry masked his sigh of relief under coughing.
When the smoke had cleared, Padfoot and Harry joined the others at the table. "Congratulations, Ron," Padfoot said, sitting down. "So, Ray, Harry tells me your friend is territorial?"
Ray frowned for a moment. "You mean Zelda, sir?"
"Yes, Zelda."
"Very much so, sir," Ray said smoothly. "She has a clear understanding of her own pack, and who is and isn’t included."
"Where did she come from?"
"I don’t know, sir. I know my father gave her to me when I was very small, but not much else. As far as I recall, she’s always been there."
"Who exactly is her pack?" Letha put in. "You, her, and who else?"
Ray indicated Harry, Ron, and Neville. "She’s accepted them, now," he said. "And she likes Seamus and Dean as well. At home, she accepts Father and Mother, of course, and Dobby, our house-elf..." He stopped.
"Anyone else?" Letha asked.
Ray shrugged. "Basically anyone I accept," he said. "But it has to be for longer than an hour or two. And I think it would upset her to see a human turn into an animal. No offense, sir," he said to Padfoot.
"None taken."
Harry sat back in his chair, relaxing, as the conversation moved to other topics. I did it. I saved it.
He ignored the niggling thought at the back of his mind that said he didn’t remember telling anyone Padfoot was an Animagus.
"So what do you think?" Aletha asked Sirius that night, as they sat together by the fireplace.
"He’s a nice boy. Despite all my preconceptions to the contrary."
"Oh, so you admit you can be wrong."
Sirius gave her a look. "Yes, I admit I can be wrong. The sky can now fall. But he is. He’s nice, he’s polite, and he’s hiding something."
"You noticed it too. What, do you think?"
"I don’t know. But he reminds me of someone. Not Lucius, and not Narcissa. Someone I used to like." Sirius twisted himself around until he was lying with his head in Aletha’s lap. "A long time ago."
"Meghan liked Zelda a lot. I could barely pull her away." Aletha began to stroke her husband’s hair. "I suppose that’s Malfoy’s paranoia showing through, that he’d give his son an attack dog for a present."
"Attack wolf, please. And not just paranoia. What better weapon to have when Lord-He’s-Ugly comes back from wherever he’s been hiding these last ten years?"
Aletha smiled faintly. "I would have thought he’d keep it for himself, though, rather than hand it on to Ray."
"Maybe he has one for himself. And one for Narcissa. Male and female, probably, and he had them mated, and that’s where he got Zelda."
"So why wouldn’t he tell Ray that?"
"Because breeding magical creatures without a license is illegal."
Aletha chuckled, winding a tendril of black hair around her finger. "You have everything so neatly summed up in your world, don’t you?"
"Well, some things."
"Like what?"
"Like this." Sirius reached up, twined his own hand in Aletha’s hair, and exerted gentle, steady pressure downwards.
Two pairs of eyes closed as the fire flickered higher.
Upstairs, Meghan frowned over her letter. She’d discarded three drafts already, searching for just the right words.
I know Neville will tell me the truth. But I have to figure out what to ask.
She yawned and set her quill down. Maybe I can figure it out better in the morning.
As she climbed into bed, she barely noticed the dim flash of light from her desk, though she did wrinkle her nose a bit at the sudden smell of smoke in the room.
In a castle in Scotland, two breaths were exhaled.
Phew. That was too close.
Agreed. Zelda’s voice grew wistful. But maybe all this — all the close calls, people finding out — maybe it means it’s time for us to try something.
Try what? Ray laughed without humor. Try dying? Or watching people die? He’s got us covered everywhere, Zelda. He knows everything we could try, and he’s guarded against it.
He doesn’t know everything. Zelda nosed Ray’s hand. He doesn’t know about you.
Me. Great. This is where you beg me to help you, because I’m your only hope, right?
Zelda wolf-grinned. Just call me Princess.
Ray groaned silently.
Holidays over, the boys returned to their usual round of classes, homework, and complaining, with Quidditch practice thrown in for Harry. Letters from home were frequent and cheerful. Padfoot had been contacted by the Auror Office, with a view to returning to his old job...Letha hinted about starting the search for a new house, as soon as Harry’s custody application went through...the dance studio where Meghan took classes had chosen her to perform a solo in their concert in March...
Overall, Harry had never been happier. Little pieces of thought concerning Ray and Zelda continued to nag at him, but he had decided to ignore them.
They’re my friends, no matter what, he rationalized. And they’re allowed to have secrets. If someone hadn’t found Wormtail, I’d have a secret too. They’re really no different from me.
By the beginning of February, this thinking had begun to sink in, to the point where Harry laughed aloud at a joke of Ray’s, without thinking about who’d told it, while packing up after Defense class.
"L-l-less noise, p-please," said Professor Quirrell repressively.
The boy was happy. That cut to the quick. What right did the boy have to be happy? What right did he even have to be alive?
"Ray, where do you learn those?" asked that abysmally cheerful voice.
Ray. That is Draco Malfoy, is it not?
A look through his host’s eyes confirmed it.
Which means Lucius will be in contact with the school. With his personality, he will likely have moved into some position of control as well.
Perhaps it is time to broaden my horizons.
Harry frowned as he shut the door of the Defense classroom behind him. "Was Professor Quirrell just whimpering?" he said.
"Probably at the thought of having to mark all our essays," said Ron. "Does it matter?"
"Oh, dear, trouble and more trouble," said Alice Longbottom, beaming at her husband and Sirius as she opened the door. "Come in, come in."
"Is it anyone interesting?" called a voice from the kitchen.
"Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over, dear," Alice called back in syrupy tones. "Just a couple of little boys looking for some little girls."
"I beg your pardon, ma’am," said Frank, hanging up his cloak, "but I’m more interested in big girls myself."
"And is that my big girl you’ve got in there?" Sirius asked.
"Letha?" Alice caroled. "One of these boys wants to know if you’re his big girl or not."
"Dadfoot!" cried a smaller voice, and footsteps pounded through the hallway.
"Oof," said Sirius, staggering slightly. "No, here’s my big girl." He hoisted Meghan into the air, kissed her as she squealed happily, and set her down. "What you’ve got in your kitchen is a perfect-size woman."
"I must go and have a look, to see what you consider perfection," said Aletha dryly, stepping around the corner.
"The same thing I always have." Sirius snaked an arm around Aletha’s waist. "This."
Meghan rolled her eyes to herself as both sets of grown-ups got disgustingly mushy.
"So I was hoping to give you some inside information on some of the estates we might someday have to try to get inside," said Frank after dinner, Meghan safely ensconced in another room with an unused potions set of Neville’s. "We’re allowed in now — they try to deny us, but they can’t stonewall forever — but in time of war, they can refuse us access unless we’re in immediate danger of death."
"And most of them would rather help that along than prevent it, at least for us," Sirius finished.
"Indeed," said Alice. "Also, you’ll find this helpful if you’re ever called to one of them for something seemingly routine. The owners sometimes find it amusing to call for a Ministry official, but ‘accidentally’ forget to disable their security."
"All right," said Aletha, setting down her fork. "Who has the most outlandish security system in your experience?"
"Malfoy," Alice said immediately. "Definitely Malfoy."
"Oh, Nott’s up there," Frank objected. "Those wards — nasty things, with freezing and burning charms laid on them alternately..."
"Yes, but Malfoy wins for outlandish." Alice held her hand out a little higher than the level of the table. "A pair of huge... well, I’m sure they’re wolves. Frank thinks they’re just transfigured dogs."
"Why would he go to the trouble of getting wolves, if he was going to alter them anyway?" Frank countered.
"Alter them?" Sirius asked.
"They look like werewolves," said Frank. "Which gave me quite a start, the first time I saw them. Luckily, that was one of the times Malfoy was being polite. He’d activated the charm on his front walk, so they couldn’t get at me. But I’ve been there once or twice when they weren’t restrained at all."
"They run loose on the grounds?" Aletha asked, sounding appalled. "What if they got away?"
"Oh, they’re collared," Alice said. "Controlling collars, probably with the bracelets around Malfoy’s wrist, and tied to the house and grounds, so that they can’t run off. But once you step onto his property, they’re there within a minute at most." She frowned. "It’s odd. They’ll growl at you if they can’t get onto the path, and when the charm’s inactive they’ll come right up and walk beside you, but they’ve never offered me harm."
"Probably because Malfoy knows even he’d have a hard time weaseling out of hurting an Auror," Sirius said.
Frank shrugged. "Possibly. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful."
"Out of curiosity," Aletha said. "Have you ever managed to see sexes? Are they a mixed pair, or the same?"
"Mixed pair, definitely," said Alice. "Probably mates, it’s only logical if they work together that way. Why do you ask?"
"Has Neville written you anything about a boy named Ray?"
"Yes, and his pet... ah, I see." Alice nodded in satisfaction. "That does make sense. I suppose he uses the same spells to keep her tame that his father uses on the household guardians..."
Ray seemed nervous over the next few days. "A letter from home," he explained over dinner one night. "Nothing terribly wrong, just my father being my father."
"A controlling, sadistic bastard with a fetish for torture?" Harry asked.
Ray gaped in mock astonishment. "It’s almost like you know him."
"I know of him. That’s enough."
Amen.
"If he’s that bad, why’d your mum never leave?" Ron asked. "Why doesn’t she leave now?"
Ray’s smile twisted but remained genuine. "He has... a hold over Mother. That’s all she’d ever tell me. But she’s always watched out for me, kept me out of his way when he gets bad. Not that it was particularly hard — he cares for his precious bloodline, not for me. I don’t think I ever called him Dad, because I never saw him until I could say ‘Father.’"
Neville shook his head. "I can’t even imagine it," he said. "I always knew who my dad was, even when I was too little to talk. I would crawl over to him when he got home and pull on his robes until he picked me up."
"Neville, you’re odd," said Ron. "I wouldn’t tell anyone that about myself. If it were true," he added hastily.
Neville grinned self-deprecatingly. "Mum and Gran love to embarrass me with these old stories. I just learned not to be embarrassed."
Ron looked intrigued. "How?"
"It’s as if there are different rooms in my mind. I have to step out of the front room, which is where I react right away, and go through the hallway into the back, where I can stop and think about what’s going on..."
Harry ducked under the table, leaving Ron and Neville to their conversation. Hello, Zelda said cheerily as Harry stepped carefully over her paws. Going to talk to my graceless brother?
"Yeah." Harry emerged again and seated himself next to Ray. "You call your father Dad sometimes," he said. "I’m sure I’ve heard you do it at least once."
Ray shrugged. "He likes to hear it once in a while, but not much. He says informality is like rudeness, to be used when necessary."
Harry snorted.
"I know." Ray smiled more openly. "I suppose you could say that..."
Before you say it, a little more meat, please?
"Beef or pork?"
Beef, please.
Ray speared a large chunk from his stew, plopped it onto a bread plate, and bent down to set it on the floor. "As I was saying," he said, sitting up, "my father in public is a very different person from my dad in private."
Under the table, Zelda began to cough. I’m fine, she sent hastily. Just some juice... went down the wrong way...
Harry gritted his teeth. He was sick of these little fractions of ideas that never sat still long enough to be worked into a proper whole.
Mithrandir —
The chicken-toed has called upon his favorite son, offering both a copy and the original, though the original is somewhat warped. The apple is still the primary goal, but Arthur is also very desirable. Ralph will inform you if information is sought through him.
Your friends in low places
Albus Dumbledore held out the note to Fawkes to dispose of, then selected a sherbet lemon from a dish. The familiar sour sweetness brought him no joy.
He had little trouble deciphering the message, though he doubted it would have meaning to any other. I have who, and who else, and what they seek, all within the same letter. Though some of it, I knew already.
And a painful reminder of what I know, and what I cannot act upon. What I have been forbidden to act upon, by those with the most right to speak.
Dumbledore straightened in his chair, an idea coming to him.
But now...
Now there is one with not only the wish to speak, but with the ability. And with other abilities which may serve well to amend a problem I have spent years wondering how to solve without an undeserved death. If the situation is presented in precisely the right manner…
Yes. Yes, I believe there is a chance.
He rose to set the preparations in train.