Dealing with Danger

Chapter 1: War Games (Year 3)


Chapter 1: War Games

Even for young witches and wizards, the children known as the cubs of the Pack were quite unusual. For one thing, they had voluntarily gotten up at six-thirty in the morning every day of their summer holidays so far. For another, they were willingly learning lessons during this precious vacation time. And then, of course, there was the simple fact of who they were: The Boy Who Lived, The Boy Who Disappeared, the brightest witch to come to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry within living memory, and the blood Heir of Rowena Ravenclaw.

On this rather damp and foggy morning, these four, plus one more, were sitting in a row outside their Devon home, the Marauders’ Den, watching what they got up every morning to watch, and some mornings to take part in. A man was dancing around in front of them, wand in his hand, throwing spells at a target which moved erratically in all directions.

“Time,” called the woman standing behind the five children, waving her own wand in the direction of the target. It sank obediently to the ground, as did the man, but only one of them was panting with exertion.

The smallest of the children, a petite girl of ten, picked up the water bottle sitting beside her and walked out to her father. “Here you go, Dadfoot,” she said, handing it to him. “Did you make it?”

Sirius Black accepted the water, took a long swallow, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I don’t know. Letha, did I make it?”

Aletha Freeman-Black picked up the now quiescent target and tapped it with her wand three times. Gold-colored numbers rose to hover above it. “Let’s see, what do you need?” she asked.

“One hundred solid hits in three minutes, and you know it. Quit teasing me.”

“But why?” asked the girl still sitting in line, innocently. “It’s so much fun.”

Sirius groaned. “Did I sprout a sign in the night saying ‘Pick on Me’?”

“No,” said one of the boys, grinning. “It’s permanent.”

“Brat.” Sirius picked up the water bottle, cocked his elbow, then brought it down sharply. Hermione Granger-Lupin ducked away with a squeal as cold water spattered all over her brother.

“That felt good,” said Draco Black, shaking his head briskly and sending water droplets flying everywhere.

“I wish I’d known you were all mad before I decided to come and stay for the summer,” said Neville Longbottom, mopping his face with his shirt.

“But you did know,” said Harry Potter, wiping his glasses on his sleeve. “You’ve known us for two years, you tried to stop us going after the Sorcerer’s Stone, you watched me go into the Chamber of Secrets – you had to know we were mad.”

“If anyone’s still interested in knowing the results...” Aletha drawled.

Sirius raised his hand like a schoolboy. “I am, I am. Did I make my goal or not?”

“As a matter of fact... after three solid weeks of training... yes. You finally made it. One hundred eleven hits in three minutes.”

Meghan Black squealed and hugged her father happily. Sirius gave a satisfied nod. “Excellent. Now all I have to do is cram a little to be sure I’ll pass the written tests, and I’ll be back in there with the best of them.”

“I wish I could be an Auror,” said Neville wistfully.

“You could be,” said Sirius, standing up with a grimace. “Someday.”

Neville shook his head. “I’m not good enough at magic,” he said. “Or coordinated enough. I trip on things, and break things, and forget things all the time.”

“Not so much any more,” said Hermione. “You used to be a lot worse. Maybe you’ll go on getting better.”

“And people who trip on things can be Aurors,” said Draco. “Our Cousin Tonks trips on things all the time, and she’s going into her last year of apprenticeship.”

“Hey, that’s right!” Sirius accepted a conjured towel from Aletha with a nod of thanks and began to dry his sweat-soaked hair. “Little Dora, all grown up and just a year away from being a full Auror. I remember her when she was eight or so. She tripped on everything in sight then, too.”

“She did, didn’t she?” said Aletha as Harry opened the back door to let everyone into the kitchen. She lowered her voice slightly. “What I remember is running into Dora and Andy at Diagon Alley, doing Hogwarts shopping. The day Andy asked me about Draco – and the only thing I could tell her was that he wasn’t dead.”

Sirius nodded. “Poor Narcissa. And there is something I never thought I’d say.”

“Poor Narcissa? I think you’re pitying the wrong member of the family, there. She’s dead, and well out of it. Whereas you ought to know, better than anyone, what her loving husband is going through.”

“You actually think I should pity Lucius Malfoy?” Sirius gave his beloved wife a look that said he doubted her sanity. “After everything he did, and tried to do, to our Pack – to one of our cubs in particular?”

“No, not really. No more than I pity anyone in Azkaban. If anyone deserves that place, he does.”

“Amen. And with that, let us turn to more cheerful topics. Such as – what’s for breakfast?” Sirius directed this question to the woman standing at the stove.

“Cold cereal to start,” said Danger Granger-Lupin, whose real name of Gertrude was seldom if ever used. “Juice and milk on the table, coffee and tea as soon as you get a mug and come here. Further bulletins as events warrant.”

“Did you make it, Padfoot?” asked Remus Lupin, looking up from the sheets of parchment which littered his end of the huge kitchen table.

“I did, I did indeed, Moony,” said Sirius, snagging his favorite mug from the collection on the table, and stealing a cornflake out of Harry’s bowl just before his godson poured the milk on, earning an elbow to the hip. “One hundred eleven.”

“Nicely done. They might take you on after all.”

“Might,” scoffed Sirius, dropping a teabag into his mug and holding it out for Danger to pour boiling water into. “They’ve only been asking me to come back for two and a half years.”

“Sporadically,” Aletha pointed out. “And I think the first offers were out of guilt, because they spent so long looking for you as a dangerous criminal.”

“I pity this country if a dangerous criminal ever does get loose,” said Sirius, taking a seat at the table. “If I could hide for almost nine years with practically no trouble...”

Remus nearly choked on his own tea. “Practically no trouble? When we had to live in hiding and pretend to be other people for five years, cut and run, abandon the house and our jobs, spend six months in America, then come back and pretend to be other other people for three years? Do tell me, what part of that amounts to ‘practically no trouble’?”

Sirius grinned. “The part where I didn’t have to do any of the work.”

“Mr. Moony would like to know if Mr. Padfoot would care to have a mug of tea upended over his head.”

“Mr. Padfoot might not mind that, but he would like to stipulate that said tea not be too hot.”

“Mr. Moony assures Mr. Padfoot that the tea is perfect drinking temperature.”

“Mr. Padfoot reminds Mr. Moony that his idea of perfect drinking temperature is about a hundred degrees hotter than anyone else’s.”

Danger laughed, coming to the table with a plate of bacon. “He’s got you there,” she said to Remus, setting it in the middle of the table. “Oy, you with the glasses.”

Harry looked up from his cereal. “Yes?”

“Come stir the eggs. I need to get the muffins out of the oven.”

“But it’ll get soggy,” Harry said in distaste, looking down at his bowl of cornflakes.

“I’ll finish it for you, and you can have a fresh bowl when you get back, how’s that?” suggested Sirius.

“If you really want it.” Harry took his spoon out of the bowl and set it on his napkin before pushing the bowl down the table to Sirius, who took a spoon from the pile in the middle of the table and dug in.

Draco scooped up the last of the milk in his bowl with his spoon and got up to put it in the sink. “What’re we doing today?” he asked the room in general.

“Fighting in bad weather,” answered Remus. “Practice at targeting by sound, a spell to make friends and enemies light up different colors so you don’t shoot your own side by mistake, and some general tips for camping out in rain or snow.”

“Outdoors first, or second?”

“Which would you prefer?”

“First,” said Draco, just as Hermione said, “Second.”

The two turned to glare at each other. Harry adjusted his position at the stove slightly so that he could see. The adults sat back to watch. Neville and Meghan exchanged speaking looks, then, by mutual consent, stole the last of the bacon for themselves.

“You want to be out there, in this?” was Hermione’s opening statement, with an eloquent gesture to the window, where the fog was swirling against the panes. “We won’t be able to see five feet!”

“Isn’t that the point? We won’t be able to choose when we fight if there’s a war. And we’ll be learning how to deal with the fact that we can’t see five feet.”

“If we wait until the afternoon, this might burn off, and then we can be comfortable while we learn. Nothing says we have to learn about targeting by sound when we actually can’t see. We could close our eyes, or wear blindfolds instead.”

“The point of training is to mimic the real thing as closely as possible. We won’t be blindfolded in a war – we’ll see lots of things, but the point will be that we can’t let them distract us. We have to focus on what we hear, while still responding to what we see if it’s a threat.”

“But we have to be inside for a little while, so we can learn the spells we’ll be using.” Hermione brought this out triumphantly. “Why not just get all the inside work out of the way in the morning, and then go at the outdoors fresh in the afternoon?”

“Because we might not have to be inside, if we’re using a spell we’ve already learned. Are we?” Draco asked Remus.

Remus nodded. “Sparks, for the targets, and the Staining Spell when we move to human targets.”

“So there. We won’t have to do any inside work beforehand, because we know how to do those already.” Draco looked smug.

Hermione pouted. “Fine,” she said snippily. “Outdoor work first, then. And I hope you get a horrible cold from it and sneeze all night.”

xXxXx

A whistle came out of the fog. “Infusco ! ” shouted Ron Weasley, aiming his wand in the general direction it had come from.

Another whistle, from a different direction. Ron spun. “Infusco ! ”

A third. “Infusco ! ”

Every time he shouted the incantation, a small ball of something like black ink shot from his wand tip and disappeared into the fog. This third shot provoked a squeal from the direction he’d targeted, making Ron grin.

“Don’t let your guard down,” warned Aletha, who was supervising this exercise. “Next target, go!” she called out.

“I was the next target,” answered Ginny out of the fog. “Nice work, Ron. You hit the person next to the person you were aiming for. Really good aim, there.”

“Oy! Can you do better?”

“Think I can.” Ginny appeared in the small clearing Aletha had formed for the shooter and made a face at her brother. “Can I have a go, please?” she asked Aletha.

“Let Ron finish his round. Whoever was after Ginny, go!”

Ron fired off six more Staining Spells before Aletha called everyone in. When they arrived, the marks on their robes told the story. Ron had hit only two of them directly, three more with splatters, and Ginny by mistake.

“I’m not even that good when I can see what I’m doing,” said Ron in disgust as Aletha cleaned everyone’s robes for a new round. “I’ll never get good at this.”

“Not without practice, you won’t. Now, out with you.” Aletha shooed him out of sight, to the predetermined distance where all the human targets stood, and Ginny took up a fighter’s stance in the center of the circle. “Ready, steady, go!”

When the fog cleared away, the Pride moved on to other outdoor things, like physical training. Sirius coached them in hand-to-hand combat, Remus in the use of long staffs, and both men taught them the basics of fighting with a knife.

The Pride had undergone a long lecture on the proper uses of these techniques, which had got quite detailed as to the probable punishments involved should any of them be caught using the techniques incorrectly, or even telling anyone that they had been trained. The lecture had been calculated to strike a little fear into even the most Gryffindor of the children, and so far, it seemed to be working.

Of course, it could just be that none of them as of yet were good enough to brag about anything.

The cubs had been training in the basics of hand-to-hand, mostly the self-defense things but a few offensive patterns as well, since they were old enough to understand what it was for. To Sirius’ surprise, Ron, Ginny, and Neville all demonstrated a basic knowledge as well, and the cubs admitted, after a little shuffling, that they’d been working with their friends in private. The greatest surprise, though, had been Luna.

To get their measure at the start of the summer, Sirius had invited them to rush him and try to get in a hit somewhere on him. One by one, he blocked them, got a hold of them, and knocked them to the mats they trained on. One by one, until Luna came up.

She had walked up to him and struck at his chest. He had blocked it and made a grab for her arm – which she had evaded, and used his moment of surprise to get a hold on him, then nonchalantly kicked his legs from under him and used his own weight to take him down.

“What was that again, in the lecture the other day?” Draco had commented. “‘Never underestimate your adversary because of looks’?”

Aletha chuckled to herself. He didn’t think it was nearly so funny when Sirius slapped him with dishes for a week, for insubordination...

Luna continued to be one of the more promising students at the hand-to-hand work, along with Draco and Ginny. Meghan knew the patterns, but was just too small yet for some of the more forceful moves. Sirius was teaching her a few tricks to handle someone larger than herself, which most if not all of her opponents were likely to be.

Ron and Neville both had trouble with confidence, Neville’s rather simpler than Ron’s.

Neville’s just timid about a lot of this. He seems to think he’ll never be good at anything, and it become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we can crack him out of it, he actually shows a lot of promise.

Ron’s attitude problem was simply that it fluctuated immensely. He often started the day being utterly sure that he could do anything, but one loss or mistake would send him into a state close to Neville’s, where he was just waiting for the other person to beat him.

If we can get him into a more permanent form of the first one, but keep him from getting overconfident and stupid...

Hermione didn’t care much for this sort of exercise, but the Pack-parents had made it clear that it was all or nothing, that she had to participate in the outdoor work to get to the indoor, so she had, a little grudgingly, agreed. Her opinion had veered slightly more towards the favorable when Remus had brought up a certain story, about the time a girl called Neenie had gotten the better of a Grumpy Professor with a well-placed elbow. Still, she sometimes held back, not committing herself fully.

She wants time to think it through. But in a fight, there isn’t time to think. You have to act, and act right away.

Harry was quite good at hand-to-hand, and always had been. His problem was akin to Ron’s, in that when he was doing well, he began thinking he was unbeatable. When this came up, Sirius could usually deal with it by proving, with a few well-placed moves, that Harry was wrong.

That’s hand-to-hand. Almost the same things apply to staffs, with one or two interesting differences...

For some reason, Hermione didn’t seem to mind staff fighting quite as much as she did other types. She moved from “reluctantly capable” to “somewhere near decent” when she had a staff in her hands. Neville had been afraid of the five-foot-long poles at first, until it was made clear to him that no one would be coming after him with one unless he had one as well, and unless he had clear warning they were coming. Now he was able to strike and block with, if not confidence, at least some measure of skill.

And all of them are a little leery of the knife work. And with good reason. Of all we’re teaching them, even the magic, that’s the skill with the most possibility for someone to get injured, even killed, if they use it wrongly.

As Sirius had promised when the cubs had received their silver daggers at the previous Christmas, he and Remus were teaching them to fight with the knife in either hand, though they made it very clear that tossing it from one hand to the other looked a lot better than it worked.

It’s like putting a big sign on your weapon that says “Take Me Now.” This is just in case they’re caught injured, or with one arm pinned or something.

Overall, there had been a great deal of improvement in everyone’s skills over the three weeks that the games had been going on. Molly had lodged a joking complaint about hardly seeing Ron and Ginny any more, but she made it clear that as long as they were enjoying themselves and not making trouble, she had no problem with them spending nearly all day, every day, at the Den.

They would have anyway, I’m sure. Or the cubs would have been at the Burrow. They still are, on the days we give them off. And, if Molly’s to be believed, wait around in hiding for the twins and mob them. Heaven knows they come home with bruises and such often enough... though I suppose I’m encouraging them by patching them up without calling them on it...

Aletha sighed at her own folly. And here I am on the one subject I keep trying to avoid. Healing.

Sirius had cited his wish to return to his work as an Auror as the official reason he wouldn’t return to Hogwarts for another year of teaching. Unofficially, he had pointed out, in pithy and occasionally vulgar language, the general inadvisability of returning to work at a place where he had missed out on dying only by virtue of becoming a rock for two months.

We took the job because Dumbledore asked us to, and because I could tell that without the cubs around to keep us all occupied, Sirius was about to die of boredom. He’d even stopped writing. She smiled. He’s back to it now, though. And isn’t Professor McGonagall going to get a surprise when a formidable older woman named Athena pops up in Valentina Jett’s next novel?

So, Sirius had plenty to do with himself these days. Aletha didn’t. She wasn’t about to ask for the Defense job for herself – for one thing, she wasn’t well qualified to teach alone, and for another, it wasn’t the kind of work she liked to do by herself. Besides, Dumbledore had replacements lined up already, and she rather thought they’d do a better job than she would.

She could return to the life she’d led since they’d come to Devon, puttering in the house, working with her potions, tending her garden, and taking music students from the village, those whose parents didn’t mind them fraternizing with such strange folk. It had been enough for her when all the cubs had been home, and even with just Meghan, but she doubted its ability to hold her interest now, even with all the household chores added to it.

And they won’t take nearly as much of my time as they do Danger’s, because she isn’t confident enough with magic to do them that way, and I am. Besides, I think she likes doing them by hand. But that just doesn’t appeal to me.

So there it was. She needed something to do. Something stimulating, interesting, rewarding. Something she enjoyed, and something that would make a difference.

And my mind keeps working back around towards Healing.

Could I get back into the program? If I pass the tests, would they let me pick up where I left off? I finished two years of training back during the war – that would mean two more to get my license. I’m older now, stronger, more willing to deal with my own fallibility. I won’t quit again because of one mistake.

She grinned wryly. Now it’ll take two.

But of course, whether or not she could reenter the Healer’s program might not matter, depending on the answer to another question.

Do I really want to?

Healing was my dream when I was young. But I just said it myself, I’m older now. I’m a wife and a mother, a Pack-mate. I’ve changed a lot from that girl fresh out of Hogwarts who wanted to cure all diseases and save the world. Is Healing still what I want to do?

It’s a big commitment of time and energy. If I do it, I want to be sure that it’s really what I want, and what I’ll stick with. There are other places I could go – I could get a secretarial job again...

She rolled her eyes. Oh, please. Filing parchments? That was to keep the bills paid, Letha, and well you know it. Now that you don’t really have to worry about money, you can do whatever you please.

And that leaves me back at the same question.

What is that? What sort of work would please me?

She’d been thinking about it since school had let out, and hadn’t come up with any definite answer yet. Sometimes she wondered if she ever would.

Oh, what the hell, there’s no rush. It’s not like I’m on a deadline...

Well, actually, I am. The year for the Healer’s program starts September 1, same as school term. So if I decide for it after that, I’d have to wait another year. Besides, it would be better to have it settled before the cubs head off to school. They deserve to know what their Pack-parents will be doing while they’re studying hard. Or goofing off and playing pranks. Whichever.

But nothing says I have to decide it now.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” A gentle tap on the side of her skull brought Aletha back to earth. Danger had reached up to rap her knuckles against her friend’s head, and was now grinning at her. “Come back to us, oh sister, from whatever rhapsodic dream hath enraptured you.”

“What?”

“Sorry, I was reading Shakespeare last night. Come inside. Lunch is ready, and then it’s our turn to try to knock some learning into these wild creatures called children.”

Aletha nodded, following her Pack-sister towards the house. “Are we going to start the, ah, ‘special’ course of study today?”

“No, we decided to delay until after we talk to Arthur and Molly, so we don’t have to start over if they say yes. Gerald was charmed by the idea, and trusts us to keep Luna safe during the process, though knowing him, he wouldn’t altogether mind if she came home one day with feathers instead of hair. And you remember what Mrs. Longbottom said.”

“I do indeed.” I am pleased that you think my grandson capable of such a feat as this at his age, the letter had read. Your point about his friends is also well-taken. I recall quite well the antics Frank would get up to at school, with little to no adult supervision. If you promise to keep careful track of him and see, as far as is in your power, that he comes to no harm, I give you permission to teach him.

To teach him what , of course, had not been specified, not in writing. Augusta Longbottom was too canny for that.

It is illegal, after all.

But they had her permission, and Gerald Lovegood’s. Now came the tough sell. Arthur and Molly Weasley were likely to be quite wary of what the Pack proposed to teach the cubs and their friends next. The Pride themselves would probably be willing to walk through fire for a chance to learn this, but the Pack-adults had agreed long since that they would teach those children who were not theirs nothing without their parents’ or guardians’ consent.

But if all goes well, we’ll have that consent by tomorrow afternoon. And then we can get started.

They had kept this part of the summer’s learning strictly under wraps. The cubs might suspect, recalling a promise made some years ago, but the adult Marauders had been careful to say nothing on the subject, and so far there had been no agitation.

Of course, they’re not actually thirteen yet. Draco’s birthday was not for another three days, Harry’s for five days after that. But I’d be willing to lay money they remember that promise, and they’ll be there ready to collect as soon as they are.

So we had better be ready.

And ready they would be. As long as Arthur and Molly agreed.

And if they don’t?

Well, if they didn’t, Ron and Ginny would have to be excluded from this aspect of the lessons, and the cubs given strict instructions not to start teaching them secretly.

But they won’t obey. I know they won’t. And it’s a very bad idea to give a command that you know won’t be obeyed.

For everyone’s sakes, she hoped Arthur and Molly would listen to what passed for reason.

Even though it does make us look suspiciously like pushovers.

xXxXx

“So, Arthur, is it true Lars Vilias is ill?” asked Sirius the next day in the living room of the Burrow. Only the six adults were present, the children having found other places to amuse themselves.

“Yes, that’s true,” said Arthur, blowing on his tea. “Hardly ever comes to work anymore, and when he does – shadow of himself. He’s worn down, overworked, I think.”

“Well, what do you expect,” said Molly. “A bachelor, worn to a thread with all his duties as Minister, and he lives all alone in that big creaky old mansion except for a house-elf or two. I’d wager he doesn’t eat properly at all, nor go to bed when he should.”

“He’s likely to be busy,” said Remus diplomatically, “but even the busiest man needs to take care of himself.”

“Precisely.” Molly beamed. From refusing even to acknowledge that Remus existed after he had confided in the Weasleys the nature of his condition, she had come to accept him precisely as she had before she’d known, even perhaps trusting him more, knowing that he trusted her with a secret of such magnitude.

And a secret I pray it remains. I would hate to have to leave before I’ve started.

And speaking of getting started...

Mentally, he nudged Danger. That’s your cue, love.

I know that. “On that subject,” said Danger aloud. “Of taking care of oneself.”

Arthur and Molly seemed to sense something was up, Molly sitting up straighter, Arthur setting aside his teacup to listen.

“We told you at the start of the summer what we’d be teaching Ron and Ginny,” Danger went on. “And we’ve kept to that. But there’s a promise coming due, from us to our little ones, and it may affect yours as well.”

“You know that we’re Animagi,” said Aletha. “You’ve seen us transform. When we started studying, the cubs wanted to learn as well. But they were ten. We told them absolutely not.”

“To be perfectly honest, they blackmailed us,” said Remus. “They threatened to start studying it themselves, on their own, the way...” He stopped.

“Go on, finish it,” said Sirius. “The way we did. Myself and James Potter. We became Animagi in school. Illegally, of course, and it was dangerous. I’m still amazed we didn’t screw it up completely. But we managed it within about two years. We were Animagi by the time we were fifteen.”

“Which means,” said Aletha, “that they started when they were thirteen.”

Molly nodded. “And now your children want to learn just like their parents did,” she said. “Don’t they?”

“Yes.” Sirius looked a bit sheepish. “And the way they see it, since we started at thirteen, they should be allowed to.”

“Are you going to teach them?” asked Arthur.

“If only to prevent them from doing it untaught,” said Danger. “And they would, if given half a chance.”

“And I have a fair guess of why you’re bringing this up to us,” said Molly. “You want permission to teach Ron and Ginny as well.”

“Yes. Only for their protection,” added Remus quickly. “So that they don’t try to learn from Harry or Draco and get themselves caught between forms, and be too scared to get help in time, so that they’re stuck that way. It almost happened to James; it was just luck that Sirius and I found the counterspell in time.”

“Luck, nothing,” said Sirius. “That was all you, Moony, don’t be modest. You know your way around a library like nobody else.”

“But I wasn’t the one who did the spell,” returned Remus. “I don’t know if I could have, then.”

“If the mutual admiration society is quite finished,” said Aletha laconically. She looked at Arthur and Molly. “I’m sorry we have to put you in this position, but we did promise. And you know our cubs will try to teach your children how to do this, even if we try to tell them not to. They have a history of that.”

“There’s something else as well,” added Danger. “You’ve already had a taste of how dangerous it could be for your family to be associated with us as closely as you are. Ron could have been hurt much worse in his first year. Ginny and Percy might have died in the Chamber. If we can teach Ron and Ginny a trick no one expects from them... well, having something up your sleeve can save your life if you use it right.”

Arthur picked up his teacup again, staring into it as though trying to read the tea leaves. “Consorting with lawbreakers,” he said. “If my father were alive, he’d roll over in his grave.”

Molly sighed. “I don’t like it,” she said bluntly. “But you’ve made a good point. Better they have your supervision than not. Are you teaching Luna and Neville as well?”

“Yes, we are,” said Remus. “Gerald and Augusta both gave us permission. Oral, of course, not written.”

“Why ‘of course’?” asked Arthur.

“Because this way, we take the liability,” explained Aletha. “If something should go drastically wrong, it’s our fault, not yours, and the worst thing that happens is we’re banned from contact with your children. That would be a nuisance only. If you had given written permission for this, an illegal activity...”

“I do see.” Arthur nodded. “You seem to have thought this out.”

“We have,” said Remus. “And we give you our word that nothing will go wrong if it is within our power to stop it.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The Weasleys were looking at each other, speaking silently in their own way, with the ease of many long years’ practice. Finally, Molly nodded, and Arthur turned back to the Pack. “Go ahead with it,” he said. “Please do be careful.”

“We will,” said Danger. “We promise.”

xXxXx

Later on that afternoon, Remus and Danger found an excuse to make their way upstairs. Danger knocked in a pattern at a certain door, which opened a bit to expose one wary brown eye. “Yes?”

“I assume you got our letter,” said Remus.

“Yes.”

“Do you have an answer for us?”

The eye disappeared for a moment, and there was the sound of whispering inside the room. The eye reappeared. “Yes.”

“And that answer is?” said Danger, keeping her face straight, allowing her amusement to flow mentally only.

“Yes.”

“Excellent,” said Remus briskly. “Your first installment, then.” He took a small bag from his pocket and held it within reach of the door.

A hand came out and snatched it, and from within the room, there was a muffled sound that sounded quite a lot like “Yes!”

Critical mass of laughter had almost been reached within the mind-link. Danger could no longer keep her face quite straight, and turned around instead, devoting her attention to keeping her laughter silent.

“We expect results, gentlemen,” said Remus a trifle unsteadily. “Will we see them?”

“Yes,” chorused two voices from within the room.

“Good. We’ll see you in a few days, then.”

“Yes,” said one voice, and the door closed.

The Lupins managed to get one flight of stairs away from the room before sitting down and succumbing to helpless laughter.

What have we done? Danger asked when the first paroxysm was over. We’ve encouraged underage wizardry and underhanded dealings. We’ve supported those boys in a plan I’m certain their mother wouldn’t approve of.

Good for us, said Remus. Love, Arthur and Molly stopped trying to control the twins years ago. They just put alarm spells on the room to let them know if they get into serious trouble and forbade magic in the rest of the house. Be grateful they’re not Muggle-born.

Oh, God... This set Danger off again. The Ministry would have to have a special flock of owls just for them, for delivering those prune-faced “Don’t do magic outside school” notices.

Remus gave her an odd look. How can a notice be prune-faced when it doesn’t have a face?

Literalist.

Fancifulist .

Bore.

Flighty.

Man.

Woman.

And don’t you forget it, they said in unison, and started laughing again.

xXxXx

Paper went flying everywhere as Draco Black, newly thirteen years old, tore into his gifts. The Pack-parents had long ago decided that birthdays and Christmas were not days to be overly obsessed with the niceties of saving paper and ribbon. Politeness to gift-givers and party guests was more important, and far more strictly enforced.

Of course, with gifts like the one Draco was now holding, politeness didn’t have to be elicited.

“Hey, I’ve been wanting these!” Draco flipped eagerly through the flat square boxes he was holding. “Phantom of the Opera, Joseph, Jesus Christ Superstar – thanks, Aunt Andy!”

Andromeda Tonks smiled at him. “You’re very welcome, Draco.”

“Quite a haul this year,” said Sirius, looking at the volume of shredded paper all over the music room of the Den. “Don’t be expecting parties like this all the time, now.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Draco made a face at his Pack-father. “Not when you didn’t give me anything.”

“Greedy,” chided Aletha. “Just you wait.”

Draco looked speculative, and interested. “Wait for what?”

“Harry’s birthday,” said Danger. “We’re saving one of your presents for then.”

“Awww,” said Draco. “Can’t Harry get it early, instead of me late?”

The Pack-parents shook their heads over the sound of laughter.

“Cake,” announced Remus. “Everyone to the kitchen.”

Andy would have gotten up to follow the children, but Danger caught her eye. “Stay a minute?” she mouthed.

The room emptied quickly, leaving the two witches alone. “Something wrong?” asked Andy as Danger came to sit in a chair next to hers.

“Not wrong, exactly. But I do need to talk with you. We’ve told you about my dreams, I think – that I sometimes dream in verse, and when I do, it’s a good idea to follow the instructions therein, or to heed the warnings. We could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble over the Wormtail affair if we’d remembered that I had a dream about him being somewhere with a lot of red-haired people.”

Andromeda nodded. “Sirius acted on part of one of your dreams before the trial. The one that told him if he did something with me, something which called for my trust, it would work.”

“That’s right.” Danger sighed. “Well, I’ve had another one. And this one names you as well.” She leaned over to an end-table, opened the drawer therein, and took out a small scroll. “Here it is.” She handed it to Andy. “The first few lines are the ones that concern you.”

Andromeda read over the verse, frowning in thought. “Whose name is stars and royalty – Andromeda was a princess in the myth, and a constellation...”

“Exactly. And ‘Gertrude’ means ‘warrior woman.’ So I’m supposed to talk to you about something. Or someone.”

Andy ran her finger along the next two lines, then set the scroll down abruptly. “Just in case I was wondering if you were genuine,” she said, shaking her head. “No one, but no one , knows what I’m working on right now. Not even Ted.”

“Is that just because you’re being private about it, or is it something no one should know about?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to say anything here. Not with your houseguest around.”

Danger nodded. “Relations of his?”

“You could say that.”

“That’s what we thought. Are you having any luck?”

“Some. We’ve tried quite a few things over the years with them. Most of them haven’t worked at all, and a lot of my colleagues have just given up. But I needed a new project, and it seems criminal to leave them that way if we could help them. So I’ve been pulling all the notes we have on their case and looking them over.”

“Anything you can share?”

“Most of the things that helped them were not spells but infusions and potions. They seemed to become more aware of their surroundings, less confused, under the influence of certain herbs and drafts. But many of those can be dangerous if taken for too long, and they had to keep increasing the dose to get the effect.”

“Until it reached the point where it wasn’t worth it any more.”

“Exactly. I’ve been trying to come up with some combination of the things that have worked, to see if possibly their effects all in concert might bring about a total restoration.” Andy smiled crookedly. “So far, not much luck.”

“Don’t give up yet,” said Danger. “Look here. Her thoughts are right, and good her goal. So you’re on the right track.”

“Nice to know. What would be even nicer is if someone could point out to me where I’m going wrong, so I can fix it.”

“See, there’s the hitch.” Danger took the scroll from Andromeda’s lap and scanned down it. “If we’ve read this right, you’re not going to be able to fix this by yourself.”

“Oh, really?”

“Here.” Danger handed the scroll back, indicating a certain line. “This is the part that interested us the most.”

Andy nodded slowly, reading it. “Eagle’s daughter, is it? I think I know who that is.”

“So do we. But it’s made very clear she can’t do it on her own. I think this may be a case where either your experience or her talent would fail alone.”

“But together, they might turn the trick.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I hope I’m adult enough not to get worked up that a little girl can do things I can’t. That’s always the way of things, isn’t it? Children surpassing their parents?”

“It’s just that they usually don’t do it when they’re ten.”

“Oh, you’re never ready for it.” Andy smiled wistfully. “Dora’s been out of Hogwarts two years now, dating Charlie Weasley for longer than that, and I’m so proud of her, but it seems like yesterday she was my little girl. A tomboy, of course, the kind who always wanted to play Aurors and bad guys instead of tea party. And she was constantly trying to see if she could fool me by making herself look like another of the neighborhood children.”

Danger chuckled. “Did it work?”

“Not well. Not after she caught on that she couldn’t change her clothes as easily as she could change her face.” Andy grinned. “If she ever complains that I used to dress her in the most horrid colors, that was why. So I could find her when it came time to get her home for supper.”

xXxXx

Four days later, there was another party held at the Den, this one for Neville. His grandmother came to visit, and he showed off what he’d been learning for her. She was duly impressed, and confided to the Pack-parents that she hadn’t thought the boy had it in him to do so well.

“He just needed some personal attention,” said Remus calmly, gripping an enraged Danger by the scruff of her mental neck. Settle down or I will throw you in the river. She doesn’t mean to be rude to him, it’s just her opinion.

And her opinion is probably what’s been holding him back all these years.

It’s not our place to intervene. We’re doing the best thing for him right now, by building his confidence and his skills. So cut this out, NOW.

Danger grumbled but subsided.

xXxXx

“And tomorrow, we get another another party,” said Meghan happily as she and Hermione prepared for bed.

“Yeah.” Hermione yawned.

Meghan sighed, climbing into her bed. “I miss the boys.” With a male guest in the house, the girls’ beds had been moved into the guest bedroom, which was just, barely, big enough to fit them both and still have room for the rest of the furniture and walking around besides.

“We see them every day,” said Hermione, sitting on her little sister’s bed. “Just about all day long. Do you really want to be with them at nights too?”

Meghan pouted, putting on her little-girl face. “Yeah, I do! I miss hearing Harry snore!”

Hermione laughed. “You’d better not tell him that. He’d get mad.”

“But he does.”

“I know, but boys don’t like to hear that. Actually, neither do girls.”

“OK. Then I won’t tell you.”

“Won’t tell me what?”

“Good night.” Meghan lay down.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Hermione pulled her back upright. “What won’t you tell me?”

Meghan shook her head adamantly, then made a firm zipping motion across her lips.

“Fine, if that’s the way you want it.” Hermione let her sister go and clambered across into her own bed. “I’ll find out sooner or later.”

She turned the lamp off with a click.

“You snore sometimes too,” said a voice out of the darkness.

“I do not.”

“Do so.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.”

“Do...” Hermione yawned. “Not.”

“Do so...” Meghan’s eyes closed.

“Not,” muttered Hermione before her own did the same.

“Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but actually you occasionally do,” said a male voice behind her.

Hermione squeaked and jumped, spinning around. “Alex! ”

“What?” Alex spread his hands helplessly. “It’s only the truth.”

“You scared me!”

Alex shook his head. “You and your sister. You’re the jumpiest women I’ve ever known.”

“Considering what they deal with, I’d say they have every right to be jumpy,” said a woman, coming up behind Alex. “Hello, Hermione.”

“Lady Maura.” Hermione dipped a quick curtsey, then shook hands with the daughter of Gryffindor. “Is there something special happening?”

“Just birthdays,” said Alex, waving his hand around the Great Hall, which Hermione now saw was decorated with streamers and balloons. “We thought we could make this an annual tradition. Have a little get-together, this time every year.”

Hermione did a quick count in her head and realized it had indeed been a year since they’d created the Pride-pendants and been named honorary Heirs. “That’s really nice of you,” she said. “But I do not snore.”

“How would you know? You’re never awake to hear yourself.” Alex offered his arms to the two women. “Shall we?”

Maura accepted with a wink to Hermione, who kicked Alex in the ankle before taking his other arm.

“Everybody beats up on me,” whined Alex as he escorted the ladies to the snack table.

xXxXx

“I’m glad we’re here,” said Remus to Gryffindor some time later, as they sat together in a quiet corner. “There was something I wanted to ask you about Danger’s latest.”

“I thought you might. Will you wait a moment?”

“Of course.”

Rowena and Margaret Ravenclaw broke off their conversation gracefully and drifted towards the two men. Danger, in a different part of the hall, cocked her head and frowned, then came to join them. “Was that you?” she asked Gryffindor. “Because it didn’t sound like him.” She pointed to Remus.

“It was I. Will you join us? We are discussing prophecy.”

“Certainly.” Danger pulled over a chair as the Ravenclaws created their own.

“Ask away,” said Gryffindor.

“Meghan was identified in the poem as ‘eagle’s daughter,’” said Remus. “I take that to mean that she is a blood descendant of yours, Madam Rowena.” He gave her a small, sitting bow. “Am I correct?”

“You are,” said Ravenclaw.

“There were others named in the poem as children of animals. Two mentions of a ‘badger’s son,’ and one of a ‘lion’s son.’”

Helga Hufflepuff drifted into their sphere, sitting down between the Ravenclaws.

“May we assume that those so named are also blood Heirs?”

The three original Founders looked carefully at one another. Finally, Gryffindor turned back to them. “You may so assume,” he said quietly.

“You’re not telling us if that assumption is right, though,” said Danger.

“Not in so many words. That is forbidden.”

“We understand,” said Remus. “I hope.”

“You do,” said Hufflepuff. “Trust yourself, young man, you’re far too hard on your intuition.”

Remus smiled. “All right, I will.”

“Is that all you wished to ask?” said Ravenclaw.

“For the moment, yes.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” said Margaret. “A man who knows when to quit. Hang on to this one, dear,” she said to Danger. “Worth his weight in Galleons.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” said Danger, grinning. “I’d keep him around to look at even if he weren’t so wonderful in other ways.”

Remus and Gryffindor exchanged the age-old look of the outnumbered man.

“One other question,” said Remus quietly as the ladies began to talk amongst themselves. “Should we expect the lion’s son – whoever that is – to have a similar eruption of power to Meghan’s? Because that could be dangerous.”

“No.” Gryffindor shook his head. “My current blood Heir had his powers bound by his father, from whom he inherited the bloodline, when he was a baby, to prevent just that from happening. Unfortunately, since his father is now dead, there is no one to take those bindings off. But I can promise you this – if that power is ever truly needed by the Heir, it will not be notable by its absence.”

Remus nodded. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”

xXxXx

Harry came awake, blinking at the fuzzy ceiling. It had been a great party. He hadn’t gotten any gifts himself, but he’d gotten to watch Ron’s surprise when he was named a secondary Heir of Hufflepuff – “for the loyalty that kept you waiting even when you’d been told to go,” said Adam, presenting the gift – and Ginny’s delight as she became a secondary Heir of Slytherin – “just so you don’t get the wrong idea about the house from my ultra-great-nephew,” said Alex. “We’re not all like that.”

And now it’s my birthday. Presents, cake, ice cream, and...

He grinned, sitting up. “Dra-co,” he called quietly.

“Wha-at?” his brother called back, lifting his head from the pillow, his eyes only half-open.

“We’re both thirteen now.”

“So what?”

“Remember what they promised we could learn how to do once we were thirteen?”

He counted seconds. Hebridean Black one, Hebridean Black two, Hebridean Black three...

“Oh yeah.” Draco’s face suddenly displayed understanding, and then excitement. “Yeah!”

“Hunh?” said Neville sleepily from the other side of the room.

“Nothing,” said Harry, getting up to find his clothes. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“No, he can’t,” said Moony tersely from the doorway.

Harry frowned at his Pack-father. Moony looked as if something had happened he hadn’t expected and didn’t like in the least. “What’s wrong?”

“Later, Harry. Neville, I’m afraid you have to get up and pack your things. Your gran wants you home right away.”

“What?” Neville sat up, looking confused. “I thought I was staying all summer.”

“There’s been a change of plans. She’ll explain when you get home. Draco, Harry, up and dressed, please, and come to the kitchen when you’ve given Neville a hand.”

xXxXx

With five of them working, although Meghan pouted a lot through it, Neville was packed in under half an hour. Danger found Trevor under the sink in the kitchen and returned him to his owner, and Letha came upstairs to get his trunk.

“We’re really very sorry about this, Neville,” she said as she levitated it down the stairs. “You’ll understand when you get home.”

“All right.” Neville shook hands with the other boys and Hermione and hugged Meghan good-bye. “I’ll write,” he promised. “And we can still visit, even if I’m not here.”

Meghan nodded, and held on for one more second before letting Neville go.

Once Neville was gone, and Padfoot had returned from taking his trunk on ahead, the Pack gathered in the kitchen. All the Pack-parents looked as Moony had, Harry noticed, worried about something, even frightened. His initial excitement about his birthday began to sour. What’s wrong here?

“This morning, we had a letter,” said Moony. “It came from the Ministry, informing us, as interested parties, that there has been an escape from Azkaban.”

Hermione gasped. Meghan was staring at Moony, her eyes enormous.

“A double escape.”

Draco went dead white. Harry’s mouth was dry.

“Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew are currently at large.”





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 2: Learn Your Lessons Well (Year 3)


Chapter 2: Learn Your Lessons Well

How was it possible to be detached from everything, and still be so perfectly aware of it all, Draco wondered? He could hear everyone breathing; he had the feeling if he listened hard enough, he could hear their hearts beating. He could certainly hear his own. It sounded like Ron when he was in a really good mood, whaling away at his drums.

For an instant, he was eleven again, standing on a promontory and looking at a man he hadn’t seen in years, a man who had spoken casually of claiming him and changing him, of turning him into someone else, something else. Even then, he had been frightened, although deep inside him he’d known that it wasn’t real, couldn’t be real, and Danger’s arrival had only confirmed that.

Now, it could be real.

His father had escaped.

“How did they get out?” asked Harry, breaking into Draco’s reverie.

Padfoot shook his head. “No one knows yet. It’s being investigated, and they’ll be keeping us updated on everything that happens. For right now, you four, stay inside. We’ve already done some preliminary warding on the house. You should be safe in here.”

“We’ll get wards on the boundaries of our property as soon as we possibly can, so you can go outside,” added Letha. “And your friends may still come and visit, if their parents allow it. You’re just not allowed to visit their houses until further notice.”

“Will we still do training?” asked Meghan.

“You certainly will,” said Danger. “Less spellwork, since we’re indoors, but we have room enough for a little tumbling in the music room, if you do it one pair at a time. And the book work continues, of course.”

Hermione looked smug.

“Understand this, cubs,” said Moony. “You are as safe as we can make you. But we promised a long time ago that we would not lie to you if we could possibly avoid it. So I’m going to tell you a truth you may not like, because I think – we think – that you are old enough to hear it and understand it. As safe as we can make you might not be safe enough. It is still possible that someone with ill intent towards you might come here, and might find a way to bypass or destroy the safeguards we put up.”

I don’t want to hear this. Though Draco appreciated the courtesy of being treated like an adult, he felt that he would rather have had the childish fantasy that his Pack could protect him from all dangers prolonged for another week, another day, another hour, anything.

But isn’t it better to know? To be ready?

“What we ask of you is what we have always asked. Obey the rules. In return, we will keep those rules as light as we may, and try to explain why we need things done, if we can and if there is time. If we give you an order without explanation, please, don’t argue, and don’t ask questions. Your lives could hang on our being obeyed immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry quietly. Hermione and Meghan echoed him.

Moony looked at Draco. Draco met his Pack-father’s eyes. “I understand, sir,” he said.

“Good. Go find things to do for an hour or two. You can have something to eat on your own, but we won’t be eating as a Pack until then. After that, get into training clothes and meet in the music room.”

“Pearl, you come with me,” said Letha, standing up. “We’re going to go over that breathing exercise again.”

“Is Ron allowed to come over?” asked Harry.

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” said Padfoot. “I’m headed for the Burrow to talk with Molly about it. The wards we put up shouldn’t be affected by how many people are in the house.”

“Then why did Neville have to leave?” Meghan wanted to know.

“His grandmother felt he would be safer staying at home and just visiting us, like Luna and the Weasleys do,” said Danger.

The words entered Draco’s ears, his brain made sense of them, but his mind seemed disengaged and confused. Danger’s statement triggered the first coherent reaction he’d had since Moony had dismissed them.

Luna.

What is she going to think? What is her father going to think?

It’s dangerous to be around me now. I’m a target. Anyone who likes me could be a target too.

Unbidden, the memory rose in him of his giving his father the names of all his friends. His fists clenched until his fingernails bit into his palms. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I handed my enemy a list and said, “Here, hurt these people and you’ll hurt me. I’ll be safe, but they won’t. So go right ahead and go after them.”

If anything happened to Neville, Meghan would never forgive me. If anything happened to Luna, I would never forgive me. And if something happened to Ron or Ginny... Merlin, there’s so many Weasleys my father would never find a piece of me.

The thought of Lucius Malfoy being balked of his revenge on his son by an angry mob of redheads who felt their claim should come first made him smile a little.

I’d rather be killed by them than by him.

“Knut for your thoughts,” said Danger, sitting down beside him and offering him the bronze coin.

“Not worth it,” said Draco, trying to smile at her.

“Try me.”

Draco shook his head.

“All right, your choice. But if you do want to talk about this, you know where to find us.” Danger pushed her chair back and got ready to stand up.

“What about the others?” Draco blurted. “Luna, and Ron and Ginny, and Neville. Are they going to be safe?”

Danger frowned, as if considering her answer carefully. “I have to give you the same answer again,” she said. “They’ll be as safe as possible. Their families will take extra precautions, but so will every family right now. Tell me this – why would you think they wouldn’t be?”

“Because... he...” Draco didn’t want to say it, but he’d have to acknowledge it sooner or later. “My father. What if he goes after them to hurt me?”

“How would he know who your friends are?”

“I told him. In that dream you said we shared. You remember.”

“I do remember. But you need to remember that he doesn’t know that was anything more than a dream. And that was almost two years ago. Besides...” Danger traced a pattern of wood grain on the tabletop with a finger. “I don’t know quite how to put this without making you feel worse.”

“I’m a big boy now. Just tell me.”

“You said yourself, after that dream, that – Lucius, why don’t we call him – wanted you to be his son again, and that he would prefer that you came to him willingly. He’s unlikely to hurt your friends if he wants to regain your confidence.”

“But if that’s the only way he can get me, he would, wouldn’t he?”

“He might. But he doesn’t yet know that.”

“But he will. He’s not stupid. He’ll start finding out about me, who I live with, who I’m friends with, and he’ll see the dream couldn’t have been coincidence, and then he’ll hurt someone, or even kill them...”

“Not if we can stop him first,” said Danger firmly, cutting through Draco’s rising panic. “And within a month, you’ll all be back at school. We’re going to make the Den as safe as we can, but Hogwarts will be even safer. Right?”

Draco sighed. “Right.”

“So, you go find something to do until lessons start. Eat something, breakfast’s going to be late. And don’t worry too much. It doesn’t help anything, and it puts wrinkles on your face.” Danger covered his hand briefly with hers, pressed it, then stood up and left the kitchen.

Find something to do. Eat. Don’t worry. Got it.

Yeah, right.

He shoved his chair out and headed for the stairs. He wasn’t hungry, and anything he could think of to do seemed pointless. He wasn’t even really sure where he was going. He only knew one thing for certain. He wanted to be alone.

For a miracle, Harry wasn’t in their bedroom. Draco wondered for a moment if the girls would be sleeping in with them again, now that Neville had gone home, but found he didn’t care. His bed remained his bed, at the moment unmade. He flopped down on top of it, yanking one uncomfortable wrinkle straight underneath him, then rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

So he probably won’t go after Luna or Neville or the Weasleys. At least not right away. That was one comfort.

The corollary to this was less comforting. He’ll come straight for me. And Moony as good as admitted the Pack’s no match for him. He beat them once, it was only because Narcissa – my mother – helped them that they got away.

Draco fished his pendants out of his shirt and rubbed his callused thumb over the embossed flower on his first pendant, thinking of the thin, aristocratic woman he knew from photographs.

And one memory. I might have made it up, I’ve heard the story enough times, but I think I do remember her. Saying goodbye. She cried, and that confused me. Father used to say only babies cried.

It really wasn’t fair that he had more certain memories of his father than he did of his mother, Draco thought. The person I wish I had known, and could remember, I can’t. And the person I’d like nothing better than to forget...

There are days I really envy Ron. The worst thing he has in his family is his mum’s second cousin, the accountant, and Percy the Prat for a brother. Or Neville. He has to hate seeing his parents like that, but at least he knows they loved him, and his gran and all her relatives only come down hard on him because they think it’s good for him.

Or even Harry. He can’t remember his parents at all, but he knows they fought for him. And he has a stupid cousin in Slytherin, who used a hexed bat on him by accident. That’s the worst he has to deal with. I’m the only one with a homicidal father. It is not fair.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, and fumed. I wish someone else knew what it felt like, to know there’s a maniac out there who wants you, and only you, and doesn’t care who else he hurts, as long as he can get at you...

Some time later, someone kicked at the door.

“Go away.”

“It’s my room too,” said Harry’s voice.

“Fine, come in.”

“My hands are full.”

Draco grumbled under his breath, but got up and opened the door. Harry came in, carrying a tray.

“What’s that?”

“It’s called food. You eat it.”

“Very funny.”

“Thank you. I thought you might want some breakfast, and you might not want the girls all over you.”

Draco shrugged, then took another look at the tray as Harry set it down. “There’s a lot there,” he said.

“Danger said we could both eat up here if we don’t make a mess. Mind if I join you?”

“Like you said, it’s your room too.”

Harry didn’t answer, instead starting to load his plate. Draco followed his lead, and they ate in silence for a little while.

“It’s really awful, isn’t it?” asked Harry when they were both starting to slow down.

“What?”

“Sitting around and wondering when he’s going to show up, if he’ll go for someone else first or just you, if there’s any way to stop him, what he’s going to want.”

Draco stared at his brother. “Are you reading my mind?”

“No.”

“Then how the hell did you know that?”

Harry set down his fork and lifted his bangs to display the famous lightning bolt scar.

Draco wanted to bash his head against the wall. He settled for his plate as the nearest hard object and immediately regretted it. “I feel stupid right now,” he said into the ceramic.

“You look stupid right now too. Here.”

Draco lifted his face enough to see that Harry was offering him a napkin. He took it and started wiping ketchup off his forehead.

That was dumb of me. Not sticking my face in my breakfast – though that was pretty dumb – but acting like I’m the only one this ever happened to. Harry’s The Boy Who Lived. Who would know better than him what it’s like to have someone out for your blood? Voldemort’s tried to kill him twice now – three times, actually, once when he was a baby. He’s had someone after him his entire life.

“I felt like this first year,” said Harry. “After we found out Voldemort was in the Forest, and probably after the Sorcerer’s Stone. I hated it. Waiting’s actually harder than fighting, I think. Once you’re fighting, there isn’t time to be scared. There isn’t time for anything except staying alive. But while you’re waiting, you get to think of everything that could go wrong, and everything bad that could happen, and it’s the worst thing in the world.”

“Yeah,” said Draco. “It is.” You know. You understand. I’m not totally alone. I’m not the only one.

“I wrote home about some of it then. I thought I was being smart and not giving anything away, just asking some questions about what if this and what if that. Padfoot saw through it and wrote back telling me if I let Voldemort psych me out, I lost. That his goal was not just to get at me directly, but to stop me from having a normal life, from having fun or enjoying myself at all. And if I let him, he won.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Subtle is still not your strong point, Harry.”

Harry grinned. “It doesn’t need to be subtle. It just needs to work. And you don’t look like you’re expecting the roof to fall in on you anymore. So it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, you damned cheerful bastard, it worked. I feel much better. La-de-da-de-da, let’s all go have a dance. Happy now?”

“Yes. Very. And if you don’t want that bacon, I’ll take it.”

Draco threw it at him.

xXxXx

Ron and Ginny arrived after breakfast and Luna a few minutes later for a tabletop strategy exercise utilizing an amazingly complicated rule system designed to make it more realistic. Ron would have been happy playing it all day, Draco thought. None of them indicated that their parents had made any fuss over them coming to the Den as usual.

Neville rejoined them for lunch, looking slightly harassed. “A couple of my great-aunts were over visiting,” he said. “I had to go through ‘Oh, look how much you’ve grown!’ and ‘My dear, you look so much like your mother’ and ‘A third year already, imagine that’ and everything.”

“We have an Auntie Muriel,” said Ginny. “She always gives us these big sloppy kisses every time she comes to visit, and Mum won’t let us go wash our faces until after she’s gone.”

“Are you sure she’s not a Leirumant in disguise?” asked Luna. “They give sloppy kisses because they’re really using their magic to see if any of your teeth are loose, and if they are, the Leirumant knows to wait around your house until it falls out, because that’s what they eat. I think Muggles even know about Leirumants. They call them something else, though.”

Draco quickly took a large bite of chicken sandwich so as not to laugh at Ron’s face as he absorbed the thought of his aunt being one of Luna’s creatures.

When they had cleaned up from lunch, they all trooped into the music room, where all the furniture had been pushed back against the walls. Moony and Padfoot were waiting for them there.

“Today, as you all know, is Harry’s thirteenth birthday,” said Moony. “And some years ago, we made a promise to Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Meghan that we would teach them a certain skill when they turned thirteen. Now, Hermione’s not thirteen yet, and Meghan won’t be for three more years. Ginny and Luna, you’re a little young for this too. But from the way you eight behave, there’s no point in trying to leave any of you out of anything, because you’ll just teach each other. So we went to all your parents and got permission to teach you this.”

“This is even more secret than the physical training,” said Padfoot. “Because this is actually illegal. If anyone found out we were teaching you this, they’d have our heads on a platter and you four in foster care quicker than you can say Furnunculus Curse.”

“What is it?” asked Ron, who had started looking interested the moment Padfoot had mentioned it was illegal.

Moony and Padfoot took a step away from each other, and both transformed into animal shape, Moony into the lion, Padfoot into the huge dog. A moment later, they were human again. “Animagi,” said Padfoot. “We’re going to make you Animagi.”

After an instant of stunned silence, the Pride all tried to talk at once. Moony lifted his hand, and they quieted down. “One at a time,” he said. “Luna, you first.”

“Will I be able to fly?” asked Luna.

“Your form is the owl, isn’t it?”

Luna nodded.

“Then yes, you will. Neville?”

“You asked Gran if you could teach me this?” Neville looked astounded. “And she said yes?”

“She did,” Moony confirmed. “Ginny?”

“Isn’t Animagus dangerous?” asked Ginny bluntly. “Could we get hurt?”

“Yes, but you could get hurt trying any spell. We’ll be with you every step of the way, and you’re not to try anything by yourselves that we haven’t seen you do successfully first. Ron?”

Ron shook his head. There was something very like hero-worship in his eyes.

“You four?” said Padfoot to the cubs. “You knew this was coming, I’m sure. But anything you want to know before we start?”

“What about me?” asked Meghan, looking a little woebegone. “I don’t even have a wand. How will I be able to keep up?”

“Very well, thank you,” said Letha, entering the room in time to hear this. “Because when we go to Diagon Alley next, we’ll stop at Ollivander’s and get you your own.”

“We will? ”

“Getting a wand at eleven is just traditional,” said Padfoot. “By law, you shouldn’t need one until then, and there are a lot of ways to misuse one. You won’t be using it for anything but this, will you now?”

Meghan shook her head quickly, not dislodging her beaming smile in the least.

“What about when we go to school?” asked Hermione. “We won’t be able to continue then, will we?”

“Why not?” asked Moony.

“You said we can’t do anything that you haven’t seen us do. But you won’t be at school with us.” Hermione stopped, looking uncertainly from Moony to Padfoot to Letha. “Will you?”

“Well, we weren’t going to tell you this...” Moony began.

“But it’s too late now,” finished Danger from the doorway. “Yes, we will be at school with you. Just as before, it’s Professor Lupin and Professor Granger-Lupin in public, and we won’t let you off punishments if we catch you doing wrong.”

“What if you don’t catch us?” asked Harry.

“I think he’s onto something,” Moony remarked to Padfoot.

“Note to self,” Harry muttered, pretending to write on his hand. “Don’t... get... caught.”

“Sound advice at any time,” said Letha.

“Will you both be teaching Defense, Mr. Moony – I mean, Professor?” asked Ron.

“Probably a good idea to get in the habit now,” said Moony with a small sigh. “Though it does make me feel terribly old. No, Ron, I’ll be teaching Defense alone. Danger’s on the payroll as an adjunct Professor of Muggle Studies.”

“Which will leave me plenty of time to prowl the hallways at night seeking out fun and destroying it,” growled Danger, glaring at the cubs. “Although we might find time to do a few other things,” she added in a more normal tone.

“Now, with this, your classes, and Quidditch for you boys – and Ginny, too, if I remember right?” Ginny nodded, beaming at Moony, obviously pleased he’d remembered. “You’re all going to be very busy. If I hear anything, even a hint, of your schoolwork not getting done, from anyone, this project stops until the trouble is over. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” “Clear.” “Understood.” “We will.”

“Excellent. Now, you’ve all done the first step already – scrying for a form. With that done, we can move on to step number two.”

Moony waved his wand. Danger moved out of the way as a large stack of heavy books soared in from the living room. Hermione sat up eagerly, while Ron scowled. “Searching for spells to transfigure each part of your body. You may have to share some of these books, since many of your forms are similar – Muggle creatures, mammals or birds, and carnivores. Meghan, Neville, you two will probably have more luck with these.” Moony separated out several books from the stack and set them aside. “The rest of you – have at them.” He lowered the stack to the floor.

Harry picked up the top one and opened it, leafing a few pages into it. “Felines. No good for me. Ginny, Neenie?”

Hermione smacked him lightly in the back of the head. “Give me that,” she said, taking the book from his hands.

Ron was running a finger down the back of the pile, reading the titles of the books. “Canine is dog, right?” he asked.

“Dogs or dog-like creatures,” answered Padfoot. “Wolves and foxes are basically canine.”

Ron pulled four books from the stack. “Catch,” he said, pretending to toss them at Harry.

Harry flicked a leftover popcorn kernel he’d found under the couch at Ron. “Prat.”

“Sometimes.” Ron handed him the books and went back to browsing. “Here, avian. That’s birds, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” said Moony. “You and Luna will use those.”

Draco moved up beside Harry to read over his shoulder. Just the first sentence made his head swim. He hadn’t known it was legal for words to have that many letters.

“Want to share work?” he suggested. “We each go through two books, and write down whatever looks useful for both of us. Then give the other one our notes when we’re done.”

“Mmm,” said Harry absently. Draco assumed that meant yes.

He carefully lifted two of the books out of his brother’s lap and opened the first one. Within a page or so, he regretted that the Pack-parents had ever made that promise.

But it looks so cool when they change. And so easy.

I guess I never thought about how much work it is. And Transfiguration, too. My worst subject.

Nothing says I have to do this. I could back out.

But he wanted to. He wanted to find out what it felt like to take on animal shape, to run faster than any human ever could, on four legs instead of two, to hunt and catch his own food, to escape from anything that wanted to hurt him...

Escape. I could escape my father if I was an Animagus. All I’d have to do would be get out of sight for long enough to change to fox form and hide. If he tied me up, I could change forms, and the ropes would just fall off, because they were meant for a person, not a fox. And if he took me somewhere out of the way and thought I couldn’t get home because I can’t Apparate, I could get home as a fox.

Suddenly, “want” took on a whole new dimension. The only time he could recall wanting anything nearly this badly, he’d been very small, and he couldn’t quite remember what it was he’d wanted, only that he’d seen someone else getting it and been madly jealous.

And I think I got it, whatever it was, pretty soon after that.

All right. I’ll learn. No matter how hard it is, no matter if I’m the worst one of all, no matter if I look like an idiot doing it, I’ll learn this.

An idea struck him. He nudged Harry.

“What?”

“Want to go upstairs? We can use our desks there.”

“Good idea.” Harry marked his place with the ribbon sewn into the top of the book’s binding, shut it, and got to his feet, books in one arm.

Draco took a look around the room as he left. Ginny and Hermione were sitting side by side on the couch, each with a book in her lap, occasionally pointing out something to one another. Luna was using the reclining Ron for a backrest. Neville and Meghan were lying on their stomachs behind an armchair, and he was reading aloud to her, so quietly it could barely be heard in the rest of the room. The Pack-parents had found seats and produced books, all except Danger, who came back into the room as Draco noticed she was gone, carrying an armload of quills, inkpots, and parchment.

“Trust you two to forget something as important as this,” she said a little acidly in the direction of Moony and Padfoot. “Letha, think you can make them some lap desks?”

“I think so.” Letha drew her wand and started conjuring the needed items, padded on one side, stiff on the other, to fit comfortably on a person’s lap and allow them to write there.

“We’re going up to our bedroom,” Harry told Danger. “Using our desks there.”

“Good thinking.”

“Not my idea.” Harry pointed at Draco.

“Good thinking,” Danger said to him.

“Thanks.”

Draco made sure Harry was in front of him as they climbed the stairs. He didn’t feel like explaining his blush. He wasn’t sure he could, anyway.

It was normal. Just a normal thing. Harry doesn’t like taking credit for what other people do, he never has. And Danger compliments people when they deserve it. Why does it suddenly make me feel like this?

He didn’t have even a partial answer until he was sitting at his desk, pulling out parchment and his favorite quill and opening his ink bottle, listening to the familiar sounds of Harry doing the same.

I guess, maybe, thinking I might lose it made me appreciate it a little more...

xXxXx

“Were your parents worried at all?” Hermione asked Ginny as they searched through the books of spells. “About you and Ron coming over here, with the escapes?”

Ginny shrugged. “Mum was getting all set to make a fuss, but then she settled down all of a sudden and said we weren’t likely to be in more danger here than at home, and besides, if your parents couldn’t keep us safe, no one could.”

Hermione felt a little glow of pleasure. She’d have to tell the Pack-parents about that one, sometime when she needed them to be in a good mood.

“Are you worried?” she asked next. “I mean, it’s likely to be Draco that Lucius Malfoy wants. And both of them could come after Harry. We’re not exactly the safest people to know right now.”

Ginny looked amused. “You’ve never been the safest people to know. Think about last year. My brother and I got possessed by an evil wizard and nearly killed by a giant snake. Maybe that wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t know Harry, but it was Harry who saved me and Percy, and the rest of the school, by turning Sangre and by stabbing Riddle’s diary.”

“Good point,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “He does get into a lot of trouble, but so far, at least, he always gets out again.”

“If he didn’t, we wouldn’t be talking about him in the present tense,” pointed out Ginny. “But you’re right. Harry’s got a good record, and I have no reason to think Draco would fall down on the job. So I’m not about to run away from my best friends because of a pair of crazies from Azkaban, who, if they’re smart, won’t come anywhere near your Pack, if they know anything about how strong of wizards and witches your parents are.”

Hermione felt that inner glow again, and stored it carefully away, to recall when she next talked with Moony and Danger. She’d need all the help she could get, when the letter she was expecting from Professor McGonagall came.

xXxXx

Sirius came awake all at once, thinking he’d heard a sound. When several seconds of careful listening revealed nothing more menacing than a few birds chirping outside, he allowed himself to relax.

Just nerves. Nothing else. Relax, Padfoot, you’ve already done it once. How bad could it be?

Bad enough.

Today was the day he’d be taking, or retaking, his tests for his Auror’s license. There were four tests – oral, written, physical, and magical. Of the tests, he was most worried about the written and the magical. He was pretty sure he could handle the oral, which was what most apprentices stressed over, and he’d stayed in pretty good shape all these years, mostly due to gentle hints from Aletha and Danger, which had occasionally strayed into the realm of un-gentleness but seldom farther than refusing to serve him dessert.

I’ve studied hard for the written, but there’s so much to know. What if they ask something I just didn’t have time to learn? And the magical is keyed for those young kids who can hit anything, not for an old fart like me...

At this point, he had to stop worrying to laugh.

I am not an old fart. Not even by Muggle standards. And I’ve been practicing for a month, not to mention staying in general practice for all those years before. I should be just fine.

“I hope,” he muttered.

“You hope what?” asked Aletha, rolling over.

“Hope I’ll do well on the exams.”

“Something I never thought I’d see again,” said Aletha, laughing a little. “Sirius Black with test anxiety.”

“Hey, aren’t I allowed to be anxious?”

“Of course you’re allowed. But I’m also allowed to tease you a little. A very little. And I won’t let anyone else do it, not even Remus.”

“Is that a promise?”

“If you want it to be. But I’d rather promise to help Danger frost your victory cake.”

“I like that too.”

xXxXx

“So, Mr. Black, why do you want to be an Auror?” asked Rufus Scrimgeour, looking at Sirius over his glasses.

Sirius squelched several smart-mouth responses – Because I do , For the same reason I did when I was twenty-one, look it up , and Did you know that you look like a cheap knock-off of Godric Gryffindor? – and answered respectfully. “I’ve always wanted to help people in trouble, and I have a very strong personal aversion to Dark magic. I’m also good with my wand and fast on my feet. And I like having a little thrill in my life.”

“We’re not looking for thrill-seekers,” barked Amelia Bones from her place beside Scrimgeour. “We need people who won’t take stupid risks.”

“Maybe ‘thrill’ is the wrong word,” Sirius acknowledged, trying not to let himself get flustered. “I’m not talking about taking stupid risks. I’m talking about the feeling I get when I can put my life, my skills, my magic between innocent people and harm, and keep them safe. I’ve been doing that, one way or another, all my life, and I intend to keep on doing it, Auror or not.”

That got them.

The oral examination lasted half an hour. The written exam took an hour. The physical testing was forty-five minutes, and then came the magical tests.

First up was the power test, designed to see how much raw force a wizard’s spells could deliver. Sirius had to fire three basic spells as hard as he could into a stationary target, at point-blank range. Imagining Wormtail’s and Malfoy’s faces on them helped a great deal.

Next was the speed test. An examiner called out the name of a spell, and Sirius had to produce it as quickly as possible. He was a little embarrassed when his Color-Changer turned the target a nasty shade of pink instead of the nice red he had intended, but since no one else knew what he’d been going for, it didn’t much matter.

Finally came the accuracy test, for which he had trained the hardest. He would have three moving targets to shoot at, on which he had to score a total of one hundred hits in three minutes.

Sirius performed the breathing exercises Aletha had taught him, letting tension flow out of him as he exhaled and peace enter as he inhaled. When he was ready, he nodded to the examiner, who released the targets. They flew into position.

It didn’t even feel like work. Sirius’ wand darted from one to another, burning into them easily. He knew he had passed the hundred mark well before time was called, but kept shooting anyway. Extra credit was definitely available on this type of test.

The results, when they came, were welcome, although not a surprise.

“Congratulations, Mr. Black,” said Amelia Bones, shaking his hand. “And welcome back.” She lowered her voice. “We’ve come a long way from the holding cells, haven’t we?”

Sirius smiled at her and fought down a blush. “Yes, ma’am, we certainly have.”

“You’ll work with another Auror for your first six months,” Scrimgeour told him. “Someone with some field experience.” His tone was just shy of insulting. “I’ve had a few requests already. I’ll let you know who I match you up with.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sirius tried very hard to keep his tone polite. “When should I report for work?”

“Monday morning, nine o’clock, my office, level two at the Ministry. You do know how to get there, I trust.”

Since the tests had been held at the Ministry, there could be no doubt that this was an insult. Sirius reminded himself that Scrimgeour had obviously been unable to find anything that would bar him from requalifying. For some reason, the man didn’t like him personally.

Well, the feeling’s mutual. Thank heaven I’m not likely to be high enough in the hierarchy to deal with you in person for quite a while.

“Yes, sir,” he answered aloud. “I’ll be there.”

Enough of this. Time to go home and celebrate.

xXxXx

“So?” said Remus as Sirius stepped out of the fire. “How did it go?”

Sirius shrugged. “It went.”

“Good to know, but not what I asked.”

“Did you pass?” asked Harry excitedly. He and Draco were sitting at the kitchen table, while Remus leaned against the counter. There was no sign of anyone else, which was making Sirius a little nervous.

Where are the girls?

“No, I failed miserably. They said the only job I was qualified for was janitor.”

“Ha,” said Draco. “Undercover janitor Hit Wizard, maybe.”

“I’m flattered. Yes, I passed.”

The boys applauded. Remus nodded knowingly. “I thought you would. So, you’re an Auror again.”

“Yep.”

“Fully qualified to deal with Dark wizards.”

“Yep.”

“Strong hero of the magical world, brave and noble and true.”

“Er, I guess.” Both boys were looking highly amused. Sirius was starting to get suspicious. “Moony, where is this going?”

“Going? It’s going nowhere. I just wanted to make sure you could handle yourself against a few harmless, defenseless witches who want to congratulate you.”

A few... oh, no.

Before Sirius could even get himself properly set for it, the women of the Pack mobbed him, hugging him, kissing him, shouting congratulations. He went down under a tangle of female body parts, and didn’t try to move. There are some men who would kill to be in a situation like this. Just because I’m not one of them is no reason not to enjoy it while it lasts.

Of course, he would have appreciated it a lot more if Harry and Draco’s enjoyment hadn’t been quite so audible.

Eventually, the women got tired of the game, which wasn’t much of a game at all since Sirius wasn’t fighting back, and let him up. Lunch was produced, and the promised cake for afterwards, and everyone was getting ready to go outside for a family game of football when an owl flew in through the window.

“International post,” said Remus, getting the bird a dish of water. “From Aunt Amy?”

“No one else,” said Aletha, picking up the letter, which was addressed to her. “Read it now, or later?”

“Now,” said the cubs in almost perfect unison.

“No surprise,” said Danger. “Yes, go on, read it to us.”

“If you like.” Aletha carefully tore open the parchment envelope and pulled out the letter within.

Dear Aletha and all,

I heard the latest news from Britain today. I’ll have to recheck my connections on the grapevine – I ought to be hearing important things like this faster than three days later.

“Three days?” interrupted Sirius. “The breakout was four days ago.”

“This is dated yesterday,” said Aletha. “Transit time and all that.”

“Right.”

I certainly used to. But I’m not writing merely to commiserate, though you have my thoughts and hopes during this hard time. No, I have some practical advice for you.

Goblins are notorious for not caring about the legal status of people who use their vaults, so long as those people are legally entitled to the money therein. Your Draco’s birth father will be able to get at his money without much trouble, and if I recall correctly, that’s an old name, with quite a pile attached. He could do a lot of damage with access to that much gold. Unless he’s stopped.

You can stop him. Have your boy withdraw all the money from that vault and put it in another one that belongs to your family, preferably one that Malfoy character doesn’t have any connections with. He may have already made a sizable withdrawal. Stop him from making any more. You don’t need the kind of trouble that amount of gold can buy.

Aletha set the letter down. “She has a very good point,” she said. “If we could get at your vault, Sirius, while you were supposedly an escaped murderer...”

“Then an actual murderer shouldn’t have much more trouble,” said Sirius through his teeth. “And those withdrawal forms are right out on the counters. How much do you want to bet a certain rat could get in there without being noticed and steal one, or two, or five?”

“And once he has them, it’s just a matter of attracting a post owl,” said Remus. “The goblins have no trouble making withdrawals and deposits by owl. All they need is a bag enchanted against theft.” He looked over at Draco. “How soon can you be ready to go to London?” he asked.

“Let me get my shoes.” Draco ran upstairs.

“What about Wormtail?” asked Harry. “Did he have a vault?”

“Probably,” said Sirius, “but we haven’t got access to it the way we do to the Malfoy vault. And Peter was never rich. He wasn’t quite poor, but he wasn’t rolling in gold by any means. Aunt Amy’s right. This will cut down on a lot of what Malfoy can pull.”

“Would the goblins tell you if anyone had made a withdrawal?” asked Hermione. “Within the last few days? We haven’t been to London since school let out, and we didn’t go to Gringotts then. If anyone’s asked for money from that vault in the last three days, it would have to be Lucius Malfoy.”

“Good thinking, Kitten,” said Remus. “We’ll have to ask that. Now, since we’ll be in Diagon Alley, is there anything else we desperately need? I’d rather keep this short if I can, but I don’t think even Lucius Malfoy would be quite crazy enough to try anything in public, in broad daylight, with me right beside Draco.”

“Two days after the full moon,” added Danger. “He doesn’t know about the taming, and he might just be stupid enough to think you retain some wolfish qualities past your actual transformation.”

Remus sighed. “Considering who else he’s met with my condition, I’m sure he would think that.”

Before Sirius could ask Remus to go on – he hadn’t known Malfoy knew any other werewolves – Draco skidded through the kitchen doorway, breathless. “Shoes,” he said, displaying them. “Are we going alone?”

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Remus added over the sounds of disappointment emitted by Harry, Hermione, and Meghan, “but we don’t need you three, and if anything does happen – which I doubt, but it’s possible – you’d be in the way.”

“Also, changing patterns is smart,” said Aletha. “We always go to Diagon Alley all together, so now no one will be expecting just the two of you to go.”

“Come on, then, fox,” said Remus, heading for the music room. “We have a vault to plunder.” Draco followed him, grinning. Sirius suspected his Pack-son had been feeling a bit helpless, and liked the idea of doing something to cripple his father.

His father. Poor kid. My parents hated me, and the feeling was mutual, but at least they never actively tried to kill me. Though I wouldn’t have put it past Mother, in one of her moods.

“Well, there’s no reason we can’t play until they get back,” Sirius said, leading the way outside. “Makes teams a little harder, though.”

Harry shook his head. “You and me and Hermione against Danger and Letha and Meghan,” he said.

“Oh, yeah.” Danger leaned down to slap hands with Meghan. “Come on, you three, get ready to get your collective arses kicked.”

“Whatever happened to sisterly love?” protested Hermione, taking up her preferred position at goal.

“All familial bonds cease on the sacred football field,” said Aletha silkily, stretching one leg. “You are no longer my Pack-daughter, Harry no more my Pack-son, and Sirius no more my beloved, if oafish, husband. You are simply the enemy, and you must be defeated.”

“Remind me never to get on her bad side,” Sirius said under his breath to Harry.

Harry chuckled. “Too late now.”

xXxXx

“That was easy,” said Draco as he and Remus left Gringotts.

“Yes, it was.” Almost too easy. I keep waiting for the catch.

By default, most of the Malfoy money (there had been a withdrawal, a fairly large one, within the last three days, and Remus had taken note of the amount) had been transferred into Remus’ own family vault, since it was the only one he could legally sign for. He felt a bit odd about asking Draco to put all his money into his, Remus’, keeping, but Draco had signed the transfer form with no sign of reluctance, or even of second thoughts, and was now whistling the main theme from Mozart’s 40th Symphony perfectly happily.

I suppose this means he trusts us. He trusts me.

I should have known that already.

But it was still nice to know.

“Special edition!” shouted a newspaper stand on the corner. “Only four Knuts! Big news! Read all about it!”

What the hell. Remus dug into his pocket, pulled out four small bronze coins, and slipped them into the stand’s slot. The stand swallowed, burped, and opened its front.

“Thank you,” said Remus, pulling out the paper.

He looked at the headline and froze.

LARS VILIAS FOUND DEAD IN OFFICE!

Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour collapse at desks

Healers suspect foul play





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 3: Exit the Dragon (Year 3)


Chapter 3: Exit the Dragon

“Lars Vilias?” repeated Danger. “The Minister of Magic is dead? ”

“Give me that,” said Sirius, taking the paper out of Remus’ hands and skimming the article. “Bones and Scrimgeour collapsed? That can’t be right, I saw them both just this morning, and they looked fine.”

“Which is probably why Healers suspect foul play,” Aletha said, reading over Sirius’ shoulder. “That, and three of the highest Ministry officials all falling ill at the same time. Someone is trying to overset our government.”

“Who would do that?” asked Hermione.

Draco snorted. “Who do you think, Hermione?”

“But what would he get out of it? It’s not like he can become Minister.”

“The more chaotic things are, the less likely it is that he’ll get found and arrested again. I bet he sent Wormtail to poison them all three, and Bones and Scrimgeour just didn’t eat enough of it to kill them, and Vilias did.”

“But Vilias has been looking sick for a while,” countered Harry. “Remember last year, at Hagrid’s? He didn’t look well even then. And Ron was saying how his dad never sees Vilias anymore.”

“So maybe it worked better on Vilias because he was already sick,” said Meghan. She looked at the Pack-parents. “What happens now?” she asked.

“Someone in the government will take care of things until they can hold emergency elections,” said Remus. “I don’t know who’s going to be running, though.”

“Maybe they’ll get Bagnold out of retirement,” suggested Sirius.

“Or maybe Fudge,” said Danger. “If he’s fully recovered from his own, er, ‘health problems.’”

Sirius and Remus carefully avoided each other’s eyes and whistled discordant tunes.

“I’m sure they’ll ask Dumbledore,” said Aletha. “And I’m just as sure he’ll say no. He always does.”

“Always?” said Harry. “How many times has he been asked?”

“What are we up to now, five?” Aletha asked the other adults.

Remus frowned. “Let me see... yes, I think five is correct.”

“Why doesn’t he ever accept?” asked Hermione.

Aletha chuckled. “He told me once that he prefers pleasant surprises to unpleasant ones. Therefore, he’d rather work with students, who are expected to be immature and often surprise him pleasantly by showing a great deal of maturity, than with politicians, to whom the reverse applies.”

The cubs, once they had worked through this, found it funny.

“And I hate to sound callous, but I don’t really see how this affects us,” said Sirius. “I mean, it’s a shame Vilias is dead, he was a decent Minister, but as long as we don’t get a total idiot in his place, I don’t see that it matters.”

“So long as we don’t find out that his people were using the same kinds of security we are,” said Remus.

Sirius glared at him. “You’re a pain in the arse when you’re right, you know that?”

“I try. And I do have an idea about security, but we’ll talk about it later. You do have a point, though, about this affecting us personally. I don’t see that it will, except that everything even remotely related to the Ministry will now move exceptionally slowly.”

“Everything?” repeated Hermione, looking a trace uneasy.

Remus nodded. “Everything.”

“Who will you be reporting to on Monday, then?” Danger asked Sirius.

“Probably Gawain Robards, he’s Scrimgeour’s second-in-command. Not a bad type, overall. Very political, like a lot of the upper ranks, but that’s how they get there. You don’t stay at the Ministry unless you can play politics.”

“And can you play politics?” asked Danger.

Sirius grinned. “Just watch me.”

“Heaven help us all,” said Aletha dryly.

xXxXx

Sirius arrived at the Ministry on Monday morning and, as he had predicted, was met by Gawain Robards, a harried-looking wizard who had only time to say, “Oh, Black, of course – good to have you – you’ll be working with Shacklebolt – down the hall, take a left, third cubicle on the right – he’ll brief you, I’m terribly busy, have to run...”

Sirius stepped aside as Robards dashed for the lift, just making it. He watched the door close, then turned back to the empty chair. “Good morning,” he said to it. “Nice to meet you, sir. Shame about Auror Scrimgeour. I hope he recovers soon. Auror Shacklebolt? That’s excellent. Thank you, sir, I’m sure we will get along.”

Footsteps and the shifting of a shadow on the wall warned him of someone behind him just in time for him not to yelp as he turned around and nearly ran into Kingsley Shacklebolt himself. The tall, bald, black wizard looked down at him with amusement. “Talking to yourself, Black?”

“Just having the pleasant conversation Robards didn’t have time for,” answered Sirius. “Nice to see you again, Shacklebolt.” They shook hands.

“We’re not on the really hard cases,” warned Shacklebolt as they returned to his cubicle together. “No escaped prisoners. That might be a conflict of interest in your case, anyway.”

“Might.” Sirius kept his face level. He wasn’t about to betray how much he would have liked to be the one to find Malfoy, or Wormtail, or preferably both.

And how much have my priorities changed, that I list them in that order?

“We’re on a three week rotation. One week office work, one week patrols, one week training with the apprentices.”

“Oh, that should be fun. You know the apprentices well?”

“Names and faces at least. I know the older ones better. Why?”

“You know a final year apprentice, Nymphadora Tonks?”

“The one who won’t let anyone use her first name. Yeah, I know her.”

“She’s my cousin.”

Shacklebolt looked Sirius over. “If I knew what she looked like normally, I might say you have a family resemblance,” he said.

“Thank you.” He was going to like working with this man, Sirius decided.

“This one’s mine,” said Shacklebolt, turning into a cubicle. “You’re next door. And we have a little window we can talk through.”

Sirius entered his own cubicle, which was bare of all but a desk, chair, and file cabinet at the moment. He found the little window and slid it open and closed several times. “I should warn you,” he said through it. “I’m easily amused.”

“I can see that.” Shacklebolt had a tolerant grin on his face. “I think I’ll like working with you, Black.”

“It’s mutual. And call me Sirius.”

“Then I’m Kingsley.”

They shook hands again through the window.

xXxXx

18 August

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

There’s been a most distressing accident. I was checking on the products of my summer’s jam making and found one jar of raspberry jam that didn’t seal correctly. It’ll have to be eaten right away, before it goes bad. I was hoping you could give us a hand with it, perhaps this afternoon with some fresh scones and tea.

GGL

P.S. We might find some time to talk about recent events and safety, if you don’t mind.

xXxXx

It was early on the morning of 25 August. Sirius yawned, partly to get that just-Apparated feeling out of his ears, and partly because it was early and he would have liked to be back in bed with Aletha.

I forgot about that part of work. Getting up at truly horrid hours of the morning.

“Morning, Arthur,” he said as his neighbor Apparated in next to him. “Have you seen the Prophet ?”

“Oh, yes.” Arthur indicated the paper tucked under his arm. “Molly wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream. But he was the only one of the candidates with any real experience.”

“And that ‘reluctant leader’ act he put on was very convincing.” Sirius scowled. “All that ‘well, if you insist’ and ‘for the good of the people’ and such. If we’d known he’d be back, we would have been more careful with those photographs.”

“What photographs?”

Oops. Sirius pretended he’d gone suddenly deaf, and Arthur didn’t pursue it any further.

I need to be more careful. Cornelius Fudge is now once again a very powerful man. And it is not wise to humiliate the powerful.

Listen to me. I sound like Remus.

“Have you heard anything about Scrimgeour or Bones?” he asked Arthur. If there’s anything to know, he’ll know it. Best connected man in the Ministry.

“They’re still ill, but the prognosis is good. They’ve got one of the top research Healers investigating what happened to them. Your cousin, I think.”

“Andy? Andromeda Tonks?”

“She’s the one. We’ve met occasionally, but it was some time ago, and I’m not sure she would remember me, except as Charlie’s father.”

“I’ll have to reintroduce you,” said Sirius. “Maybe at Christmas, or sooner if we get the chance.”

“I’d like that.”

The lift arrived, and the crowd of wizards and witches climbed aboard.

xXxXx

At that precise moment, Andromeda would have greatly preferred to be reintroduced to her bed. They hadn’t met in far too long.

I might not even recognize Ted if I saw him. Or Dora.

What was I thinking? Even working from home, I can’t do two full-time projects. No one can.

But they’re both so important. And I can’t give either of them to anyone else. Everyone else thinks the Longbottoms are a lost cause... but I’m the best candidate to find out if Vilias and Bones and Scrimgeour were poisoned...

She shook her head. Enough of this. I’m a Healer. I’ll Heal myself. No more work today. A shower, a good meal, then I’ll sleep until Ted and Dora get home tonight and spend some time with them before I start working again.

The objective here is not for me to kill myself.

xXxXx

Ron groaned and slammed a book shut. “I can’t find anything that looks right!” he complained. “Half this stuff doesn’t make sense anyway!”

“Don’t panic,” said Danger, taking the book. “This is one of the longest phases of Animagus transformation. Finding the spells, and then learning how to do them.”

Ron sighed hugely. “Why does it take so long anyway?”

Danger beckoned for him to follow her. “We’ll go in the other room,” she said. “So we don’t disturb anyone else.”

Ron reddened slightly. “Sorry,” he said to the rest of the Pride, who either waved dismissive hands at him or ignored him entirely.

“So you want to know why it takes so long to find these spells?” Danger asked in the kitchen, pouring both of them pumpkin juice.

“Yeah. I mean, they’re just spells, aren’t they? Why can’t everyone who turns into the same sort of animal use the same spells? There have to have been other hawk Animagi before me. Why can’t I find out what spells they used and use them?”

“That might be a good place to start,” acknowledged Danger. “But tell me this. Are you the same as any other wizard?”

“No.”

“How are you different?”

Ron stared at her. “Lots of ways.”

“Name some. How are you different from... let’s say, Harry?”

“Well, I’m taller. I don’t wear glasses. I have red hair, his is black. I play chess better than he does, but he flies better than I do...”

Danger held up her hand. “That’ll do for the moment. Now, imagine for a second that you and Harry had the same Animagus form. Do you think, in light of everything you just said, that the two of you could use the same spells?”

“I don’t see why not. I mean, the spells are just changing us into animal form. We’d look different when we got there, but we’d be the same every other way.”

“And how would you get back to human form, afterwards?”

“By undoing the spell...” Ron’s eyes cleared slightly. “Is that why the spells have to be special for us? So that when we undo them, we’re still us afterwards?”

“Yes. And so that you stay you, even in animal form. When I turn wolf, I still have my human mind, and all my memories and thoughts. I think a little differently, a little more simply, but I’m still essentially human. As you will be, even in hawk form.”

“So we’re finding spells, not just to turn us into animals, but to turn us into us as animals.” Ron frowned. “Did that make any sense?”

“Perfect sense. And you’ve got it exactly.”

“Has it ever happened the other way? Where someone didn’t use the spells right, and got turned into just an animal, not them as an animal?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to them?”

“They were trapped in animal shape all their lives,” said Danger. “Because they didn’t have any humanity left. It’s one of the greatest dangers of this process.”

Ron gulped. “I think I understand now,” he said. “I wish our teachers at school would explain things like this. I never understand why they want us to do things the way they do.”

“Usually they have good reasons,” said Danger. “Occasionally they’re just set in their ways. I’m sure you can think of a few like that.”

“A few.” Ron grinned at her, then downed the rest of his pumpkin juice. “Thanks, Mrs. Danger – I mean, Professor.”

“Back to your studying, hawk-boy, before I decide I need a new quill,” said Danger, shooing him towards the music room.

xXxXx

He soared on high, his wings set to make the most of the thermal currents rising from the rocks below. He could see everything below him in wonderful detail. Including the slight shifting where no such movement should be.

Ah-ha. Invisibility Cloak, indeed.

But as he circled once more, he saw that this was due less to his own eyesight than to the foolishness of the Cloak’s owner. A long, straight, dark-furred tail lay on a rock, apparently with nothing attached to it.

Perfect. If I come in fast, he’ll never know what hit him.

He wheeled once more, to set up, then dove. Faster – faster – faster –

Suddenly, where the tail had been, there was a scurry of movement, and a flash of white teeth grinning up at him –

He screeched and broke off his dive barely in time, as the teeth clashed together just below him, harvesting one tail-feather for their pains. With his flight thus interrupted, his landing was the opposite of graceful, and just to put the final touch on, he lost control even of his form and hit the ground hard, human once more.

Laughter behind him clued him that his erstwhile prey had also changed back. He rolled over, brushing dirt off his face. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he said angrily.

“Yes,” gasped out his friend, rolling around on the rocks in an ecstasy of mirth. “You fell for it! I set you up, and you fell for it!”

He sat up and dusted off the rest of him. “You little piece of dung,” he said, but without any real anger now. He must have looked pretty funny, after all, and it was his own fault if he couldn’t recognize a setup after living all his life with the twins. “See if I help you the next time Draco steals your towel.”

“The next time Draco steals my towel, he’s going to turn blue,” said Harry, catching his breath. “Fred and George are letting me test one of their new products. It’s a paired thing, soap and towel. If you use one of them and not the other, after about fifteen minutes you turn a pretty color. Green for the soap, blue for the towel.”

“Remind me not to borrow your soap.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Good.” Ron held out his hand to Harry, and as Harry took it, pulled harder than was necessary, yanking his friend past him, off-balance. Harry went with the movement, using it to try to twist Ron’s arm, but Ron brought a foot up and shoved him away, and Harry let go and collapsed in a heap, laughing.

“Nice,” he said, getting up by himself. “We’re all getting pretty good at that.”

Ron nodded. “Now all we have to do is convince the Death Eaters to come after us without their wands.”

“We’ll figure something out. Race you back to the castle?”

“Give me a start?”

“Sure.”

Ron concentrated. The world went a funny shape and became much clearer, with every movement instantly noted. Harry, suddenly a giant, bent down and offered his wrist, and Ron sidled onto it, bating a little. Harry stood up, leaned back, and shot his arm forward as if throwing a ball, and Ron launched himself into the sky.

He loved flying on a broom, but this was even better. This was real.

“Ready?” called Harry from below.

Ron positioned himself on a thermal, caught his breath, and squawked a yes.

“Go!” Harry vanished. In his place was a rangy, black-furred wolf, bounding towards the Forest and distant Hogwarts. Ron broke out of the updraft and dived towards Harry, giving voice to a long, joyous shriek as he came, and brushing his talons through Harry’s back fur at the bottom of his dive.

Nothing in the world could be as much fun as this.

xXxXx

“Ron, wake up.”

Ron blinked. His face was pressed against something firm and smooth, which smelled like paper. His back was bent at an odd angle. All he could see was a large expanse of white and black.

“You fell asleep in your book,” said Ginny in a patient tone. “You need to wake up now. It’s almost time to go home for dinner. Charlie’s coming tonight, remember?”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” said Ron, lifting his head. “I was resting my eyes.”

“Do you always drool when you rest your eyes?” inquired Harry from behind Ginny.

“Shut up. You snore.”

“I do not.”

“You do so. Doesn’t he?” Ron appealed to Ginny.

“I’m not getting into this,” said Ginny, shaking her head. “You two fight it out.”

Harry looked around the room. “Hermione!”

“What?” Hermione looked up from her book.

“Do I snore?”

“Yes.”

Ron laughed. “Thank you!”

“I do not!” protested Harry indignantly. “Neville!” Neville, who had just come in from the kitchen, jumped at being so loudly addressed. “Do I snore?”

Neville looked uncomfortable.

“Just tell me the truth,” said Harry with a sigh.

“Yes,” Neville admitted. “But it’s a very polite snore. Ron’s is much worse.”

Ron bridled. “Oy!”

“He’s right,” said Ginny. “When you snore, it sounds like the castle’s falling down.”

“First I drool, now I snore. Make up your mind!”

“You do both,” said Hermione. “And you talk in your sleep.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do. At our last den-night last year, you yelled something about Quafflepocking that woke me out of a sound sleep. I wanted to kick you.”

“You always kick at den-night,” countered Ron. “That’s why no one will sleep near you. They know they’ll wake up all black and blue.”

“Better than deaf, next to you,” shot back Hermione.

xXxXx

In the kitchen, Remus looked at Draco, who appeared to be ready to hide under the table, and Luna, who was her usual oblivious self, immersed in one of the books about avian transformation. Meghan was attempting to make an unobtrusive exit. Remus coughed slightly, making her jump guiltily, then motioned her to go. The shouting from the music room, rather than ceasing, was elevating.

“Is it just me,” he said conversationally, “or do Ron and Hermione seem very conversant with one another’s sleeping habits?”

Luna looked up from her book but didn’t say anything. Possibly she’d caught sight of Draco’s hand, which was signaling an emphatic Shut up where he thought Remus couldn’t see it.

“And did I hear Ron mention the words ‘den-night’ and ‘always’ in the same sentence? Seeming to argue that he is familiar with den-nights as a recurring phenomenon?”

Draco tried an ingratiating smile which didn’t quite work. “Would we be in trouble if I said yes?”

Well, that answers that question.

As if I didn’t already know.

“Does anything go on at these den-nights that parents wouldn’t like knowing about?”

Draco shook his head. “We tell stories and sing songs,” he said. “Practice hand-to-hand. Do homework. Sleep. That’s about it.”

“Where?”

Draco gave an artfully careless shrug. “Around.”

“All right, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, as long as ‘around’ isn’t anywhere you shouldn’t be.”

“It isn’t,” said Luna. “The Map said it was safe, and Alex said we could use it.”

Draco winced. Remus didn’t blame him. He was having a hard time believing what he’d heard. “Alex said?” he asked delicately.

“Should I not have said that?” Luna asked Draco.

“Probably not.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“Why don’t you try saying that less like someone’s twisting your arm,” suggested Remus.

Draco glared at him.

“It really is all right, you know,” Remus added. “If you don’t want to tell me any more, you don’t have to. As long as it’s nowhere dangerous and you’re not intruding on anyone.”

“Thank you, it isn’t, we’re not. Excuse me?” Draco slid off his chair and headed for the stairs.

“He’s been touchy ever since his father escaped from prison,” observed Luna. “Do you think he’s afraid?”

“Probably.”

“He shouldn’t be. The wards on your house won’t let anyone through who means to hurt him.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can see it. I see lots of things other people don’t seem to. It’s why I like being with the Pride. All of us are a little different than other people.” Luna smiled, then returned to her book.

Luna Lovegood, mistress of understatement.

And just where are you that you can hear her?

Upstairs in our bedroom, borrowing your ears.

Without asking me?

What’s wrong with that? It’s not like I’m snooping on anything private, you’re not hiding in a room somewhere telling secrets about me.

It’s the principle of the thing.

Of what thing?

Are you being deliberately obtuse?

No. Are you?

No, but... Remus stopped, taking a deep breath. I would appreciate it if you didn’t use my senses without my permission.

Oh, come on, Remus. What does it hurt? You never know I’m even there.

That’s the point!

It is?

Yes! I shouldn’t have to wonder if you’re looking through my eyes or not before I look at something!

Are you looking at things you don’t want me to see?

No!

Really now? Then why don’t you want me along?

It’s... it’s just... it’s a matter of privacy.

Privacy? Since when have either of us had that?

That’s the point. We deserve it. And if you’re just going to sneak into my mind whenever you want, I can never be sure I’m alone.

Well, be fair, Mr. Righteous. You could just as well do the same to me.

Yes, but I won’t!

That’s what you say now, but the first time you suspect I’m up to something you won’t approve of, I know you’ll be right in there.

No, I won’t! I wouldn’t do anything like that to you!

Oh, really? This from the man who drilled a hole through the wall in the prefects’ bathroom to get a good look at the girls’ side?

Remus’ hands contracted on the edge of the table. Confound you, woman, I was fifteen years old!

I’ll remember that for two years from now.

Two years... oh. Remus chuckled slightly. I somehow doubt either of our boys will be named prefect.

Oh, one never knows, does one? Danger paused. Weren’t we fighting a minute ago?

I think we were. But now we’re not.

Funny how that happens.

Yes, it is. But the point remains. Please don’t just come into my head unless there’s an emergency.

Point taken. And the same applies to you, even though I know you never do anyway.

I’ll admit I’ve been tempted...

Ah-ha!

But as far as I can recall, I’ve never followed up on that temptation. Remus allowed his tone to range a bit into the “smug” zone.

Well, you know what they say. A clear conscience is the sign of a bad memory.

And the only person who quotes proverbs is one who has nothing original to say.

Come here so I can hit you.

Can I convince you to kiss me instead?

Possibly, possibly.

In that case, I’m on my way.

xXxXx

Ted Tonks got up the next morning to find his wife still working.

“Andy, sweetie, you don’t need to do this to yourself,” he said, leaning on the doorframe of her study. “Is this really so important? No one’s going to die if you don’t finish this at a certain time.”

Andromeda shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel driven right now. Like I might not have another chance. And I slept most of yesterday – I have my days and nights all turned around – so I’m fine for another few hours here. I promise I’ll sleep when I need to. And eat.”

“Good. Ruddy Healers, never take care of themselves.”

“Stupid parchment shufflers, always think they know how to run everyone’s lives.”

They kissed.

“Make sure Dora’s up,” Andy called after her husband as he left. “And ask her to come and say goodbye to me before she goes.”

xXxXx

Nymphadora Tonks rummaged through her bag, then swore. She’d left her essay at home. And she could absolutely not look like a scatterbrained little twit in front of her cousin Sirius. He’d tease her about it for years.

She checked her watch. She had just enough time to run home and get it if she hurried.

No more than a minute later, she fell out of the fireplace at home. “Mum, it’s just me!” she called out. “I forgot something!”

There was a loud bang, as if her mother had dropped something. Then silence.

“Mum? Are you all right?”

No answer.

Tonks frowned, then started for the stairs. “Mum?”

Still no answer. She was halfway up now, and starting to get worried. “Mum, this isn’t funny. What’s going on?”

Something cream-colored caught her eye on the hallway floor. Parchment, it was a scrap of parchment, dropped by someone in a hurry, it looked like. Had her mother had an urgent call from the hospital?

Tonks came level with the doorway and squinted into the room. “She keeps it so dark in here,” she muttered, drawing her wand. “Lumos . ”

Then she screamed.

xXxXx

The Floo at the Burrow chimed, making Molly Weasley look up in surprise. Had Ron or Ginny forgotten something?

But neither of her children emerged from the fireplace. Instead –

“Aletha! What a surprise! I wasn’t expecting–” Molly got a look at her friend’s face and stopped. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Is Charlie here?”

“He’s upstairs. I’ll get him.”

“Thank you.” Aletha sat down at the kitchen table, looking as if she were holding off tears by sheer force of will, as Molly hurried up the stairs.

What in heaven’s name could have happened that she needs to see Charlie?

Thankfully, her second son was a light sleeper. A few good shakes, and he was following her down the stairs. “Mrs. Freeman-Black,” he said respectfully, offering his hand.

“Hello, Charlie.” Aletha shook hands with him. “Would you sit down, please? I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

Charlie sat, as did Molly.

“Andromeda Tonks is dead.”

Molly gasped in horror. “Dead? How? What happened to her?”

Aletha was looking at neither of them. “She appears... to have been murdered.” She turned her attention to Charlie. “Tonks is at our house, and asking for you.”

“I’ll go right away,” said Charlie in a rough voice, and shoved his chair back, standing up and Disapparating.

“He’s in his nightclothes,” said Molly, staring at the place where Charlie had been. “But I suppose that doesn’t matter... oh, Aletha, how horrible. I’m so sorry.” The words couldn’t possibly do what she wanted them to, but she hoped they would help, at least a little bit.

Unfortunately, they seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Oh, dear.” Molly got up and pulled her chair around the table, setting it directly beside the now sobbing Aletha, so that she could put a comforting arm around the other woman’s shoulders and Summon a box of tissues for her.

Murdered. But who would do such a thing? Who would murder a Healer?

“I’ve made up my mind,” said Aletha a few minutes later, wiping her eyes. “I’ve decided.”

“About what?”

“I’m going back to school. I’m going to finish my training and become a Healer myself. There are always too few. And now there’s one fewer than there used to be. I’m going to change that.”

“Good for you,” said Molly, and meant it. She had often thought that her brothers would have been quite annoyed with Aletha for giving up her Healer’s training over them, although she had never told Aletha so.

I only hope Dora doesn’t give up her own training over this.

xXxXx

“I’ll find them,” said Tonks’ voice, muffled both because of her tears and because she was speaking into Charlie’s chest. “I’ll find them, and I’ll bring them in, and I hope they get the Kiss for this. They deserve it.”

Tonks and Charlie were in the music room. Sirius had gone back to the Ministry, to find Ted Tonks and break the news to him as gently as possible, and to get a team of Aurors in to study the Tonks’ home and see what they could find out. Remus was upstairs with the cubs, comforting them and answering their questions as best he could.

And I... am doing the dishes. By hand. I don’t think I could concentrate enough to use my wand right now.

Danger sniffled and watched a tear fall into the dishwater. God, who would do this? Who would kill Andy? She never hurt anyone, and she’s helped so many people... she suspected us for all those years, but she kept our secret, even after she sent us Narcissa’s ring for Draco...

She stopped, her hands closing convulsively around a wooden spoon.

Narcissa’s ring. Andy was there when Narcissa died. And she saw Lucius there, in custody, and Stunned him because she couldn’t stand the look on his face...

I wondered how long it would take you.

Now who’s eavesdropping?

You were broadcasting again. You never have learned not to do that.

Never mind that now. Do you really think...

It seems plausible. But let’s not jump to conclusions.

A sound like a dishtowel snapping jerked Danger back to awareness of her surroundings. Sirius sat down wearily at the table. “Her study was ransacked,” he said. “Her notebooks were in the bottom of her cauldron, covered with all the samples she’s taken and all the potions she’s tested. No one’s sure if all the notes are there, or if anyone will be able to read them and find out what she’d just figured out that made someone so sure they had to kill her.”

“Remus and I had a thought,” said Danger quietly. “Andy had history with Lucius Malfoy. Besides being his wife’s sister, she Stunned him the night Narcissa died.”

Sirius nodded. “Makes sense. And if it was him and Wormtail behind the poisonings, they’d want to get rid of anything that might lead back to them. Besides, what better way could they have to remind us that we’re none of us safe?”

“Yes.” Danger dropped the spoon into the sink and sat down beside Sirius at the table. “Yes.”

Neither adult heard the light footsteps on the stairs.

xXxXx

Draco ran into the boys’ bedroom and dropped down on his bed, shaking, utterly grateful that his siblings were with Moony in his and Danger’s bedroom.

I should have known. Damn it, I should have known.

Padfoot said it himself. “We’re none of us safe.”

No one is safe, as long as I’m here.

It’s me he wants. And he’ll go through anyone in his way to get me. He just proved it.

I can’t let him hurt the Pack. But he will, if they try to protect me.

So I can’t let them protect me.

I’ll go tonight, after it’s dark. They can’t stop me if they don’t see me.

He started thinking about what he could take with him, and where he could go.

I can’t stay anywhere too long. If I keep moving, he’ll take longer to find me. The longer he takes, the more likely it is he’ll get caught. Then I could come home...

He snorted at his own folly. Fat chance. More likely, he’ll catch me and do whatever he wants to me – try to turn me – and get caught while he’s doing that, since he’ll have to stay in one place to do it.

Or maybe he won’t get caught. Maybe he’ll succeed. Maybe he’ll turn me into a spy and send me back here to bring the Pack down from the inside...

He purposely thumped his head against the wall. Stop that. Think about the present, what you can change, not what you can’t. The future will come soon enough.

My father will come soon enough.

And it’s only going to be me he hurts. No one else.

xXxXx

It was a long, miserable day. Everyone’s pendants were warm verging on hot, and no one could seem to summon up enough energy to bespell them quiescent again.

The Auror Office gave Sirius two days’ compassionate leave. Sirius said he would rather have been working.

An owl arrived from Hogwarts with the cubs’ letters. Hermione seemed very happy to see hers, but then, she was always happy to see reminders that the school year would soon begin.

Charlie took Tonks back to the Burrow with him in mid-morning. Ted Tonks was under the care of some friends from work. Both father and daughter seemed all right where they were, as much as anyone who had just lost a wife or a mother could be all right, and no one had the heart to take them back to the house where Andromeda had died. They stayed where they were.

Lunchtime arrived. No one really wanted to eat, but everyone forced something down. Then they went back to their solitary pursuits – the cubs finishing summer homework, Aletha studying in fierce earnest for the tests she would soon take to qualify as a third-year Healer student, Sirius, in his writing room, pounding out his feelings on his old typewriter, and Remus and Danger doing last-minute preparations. Their expected package from Fred and George Weasley had arrived a few days before.

“It almost seems wrong to be getting ready for fun, when someone we know is dead,” Danger said quietly, tapping the edges of a stack of parchment to neaten it.

“Andy loved having fun,” said Remus, though his eyes were suspiciously bright. “She wouldn’t want us to give it up because of her.”

Danger sniffled. Are you sure?

Remus blinked hard. No.

They held each other and cried together.

The cubs drifted out to play with their friends after a while, or rather, Harry and Hermione drifted out. Meghan had cried herself to sleep in the girls’ bedroom, and Draco was holed up in the boys’. Even their play was subdued, quiet and without much fun to it.

Dinner was almost as cheerless as lunch. The usual jokes and laughter of the Pack were completely gone. They ate in silence, cleaned up in silence, and returned to their own places.

All except one.

xXxXx

“Moony?”

Remus turned. “Hello, Kitten,” he said.

Hermione crossed the room and sat down on a footstool near Remus’ chair. “I have something I need to ask you,” she said. “About school.”

“Go ahead.”

Hermione withdrew a letter from her pocket. “I want to take an extra class,” she said. “But there won’t be enough time for it, unless I do something unusual.”

“Unusual, like what? Private lessons?”

“No.” Hermione handed him the letter. “I asked Professor McGonagall about it at the end of last term, and she’s been writing to the Ministry about it ever since. She would have had an answer before now, but everything’s been so disturbed.”

Remus squinted at the letter in the fading light from the window, then drew his wand and turned the lights on. “Let’s see here. ‘Exceptional student... value of hard work... extraordinary measures...’”

He read through a sentence, stopped, and went back to the beginning.

That cannot say what I think it said.

The second reading did not change the meaning.

Remus looked at Hermione in amazement. “You want to use a Time-Turner? To attend an extra class?”

“It’s the only way I could – and I’d only use it for class, I’d be as careful as anything, I wouldn’t tell anyone about it...”

“You’d meet yourself coming and going, you’d wear yourself down to nothing, and there are no secrets in this house. No.”

“No?”

“No. You are not going to use a Time-Turner. You can read the books for Muggle Studies, you can even have some private lessons with the adjunct professor, but I will not allow you to meddle with time for something as silly as wanting to take an extra class. You have enough on your plate as it is. No.”

Hermione stared at him. “But–”

“No buts. The answer is no.”

“You’re being completely unfair! You won’t even listen to me!”

“I have listened to you. You have no idea the dangers of playing around with time–”

“Yes, I do! I know the laws! I have to be back where I left from by the time I left, and I can’t let me see myself, or let anyone see me being in two places at once, and I can’t do anything to change what’s already happened – and I wouldn’t! I just want to take the class!”

“That is quite enough!” Remus was on his feet. “You will not use a Time-Turner, and that’s final!”

Hermione shot upright as well. “I hate you!” she shouted. “I hate you, I hate you! I wish we’d never met you! I wish I’d never changed my name! I hate you!”

She turned and ran out of the room. Remus watched her go.

That’s one thing we never thought of when we founded the Pack. Three children the same age in one house. Which means, three teenagers.

What have we got ourselves into?

xXxXx

Hermione stormed upstairs, headed for the big bedroom the four cubs had shared until this summer. She had a stash of chocolate in the closet she intended to raid.

The window which led to the big tree was open. Draco was halfway out of it. A loaded backpack lay on the bed within his reach.

“Are you running away?”

“Yeah. Are you going to tell?”

Hermione scowled. They’re so fond of running people’s lives, let them figure it out for themselves. “No.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hermione pulled the closet open, knocked over a stack of boxes, and dug through piled clothing until she found what she was looking for. Bag of chocolates hugged to her chest, she crossed the hall to the bathroom and locked herself in.

The rest of this family can go eat a puffskein for all I care.

xXxXx

“Hermione?” Danger knocked on the bathroom door. “Come on, sweetheart, I know you’re in there. Don’t make me unlock the door myself, please don’t.”

There was no reply.

“Danger?” Sirius came out of his and Aletha’s bedroom, which had his writing room attached to it. “Have you seen Harry?”

“No. Why?”

“I was just wondering where he was. I haven’t seen him since just after dinner.”

“Nor have I.”

“Here, let me try something.” Sirius went into the boys’ room and came out with a shirt of Harry’s. “Induco Erum ,” he said, waving his wand around it.

The shirt flew out of his hands and plastered itself against the door of the linen closet. Danger jerked the door open, and Sirius leaped into place just in time to stop an unconscious Harry from falling on top of her.

“Oh my God.” Danger felt quickly along Harry’s neck as Sirius lowered him to the floor. “He’s alive – I don’t think he’s hurt – but how could he have been attacked, here in the Den? Who could have done this?”

“We’ll find out.” Sirius went to one knee and aimed his wand at Harry. “Ennervate .”

Harry’s eyelids flickered, then came open. “Padfoot?” he said uncertainly. “Danger?”

“We’re here,” said Sirius, pressing Harry’s shoulder. “We found you in the linen closet. What happened?”

“Where’s Draco?”

“We haven’t seen him for a little while,” said Danger. “Why?”

“He did this,” said Harry, rubbing his forehead. “He didn’t want to hurt me, he said, but he couldn’t let me stop him. So he Stunned me.”

“He couldn’t let you stop him?” repeated Sirius in surprise. “Stop him doing what?”

Harry sat up and looked into the boys’ bedroom, then back at the adults. “Running away,” he said. “He’s running away. Because he thinks that we won’t ever be safe with him around.”

Danger had to lean against the wall for support.

Why does everything have to happen at once?





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 4: Think Fast (Year 3)


Chapter 4: Think Fast

Sirius frowned. Something didn’t add up here. “You’re telling me that Draco Stunned you?”

Harry nodded cautiously.

“With his wand?”

Another nod.

The answer came to Sirius with a jolt. He’d been working with the boys for weeks now, observing them for years... “How? How could he overpower you? I’ve worked with you both. You’re faster and more powerful than he is. How did he do it?”

“It was a sneak attack!” protested Harry. “I didn’t think he’d actually curse me!”

“You’re lying,” said Sirius hotly. He couldn’t believe Harry thought he’d accept a story this blatantly fake. “You’re trying to protect him. You let him Stun you, so you’d have a cover story. I’m not stupid, Harry, and I’m not falling for this. How much do you know?”

xXxXx

“You’re telling me that Draco Stunned you?” said Sirius, frowning a bit.

Danger, leaning against the wall, felt a tugging inside her mind, somewhere near where her bond with Remus began, but not coming from that bond. Someone wanted her attention, but it wasn’t her husband.

She closed her eyes. Yes?

I shouldn’t be doing this, hissed a voice she knew. But it’s technically not telling you anything you don’t know already. Go after him, and soon. The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be to track him down, and the more chance there is that someone else will find him first. I have to go –

The contact was broken.

Thank you, Alex, said Danger anyway.

Just in case we needed more confirmation that time is of the essence...

“I’m not stupid, Harry, and I’m not falling for this,” said Sirius angrily. Danger quickly opened her eyes. “How much do you know?”

Harry scooted backwards, away from Sirius, his eyes wide and frightened. “Nothing, I don’t know anything, I swear!”

“Stop lying!” Sirius yelled. “Don’t you understand? His life could depend on this!”

Harry shrank away from Sirius, bringing his arm up as if to shield himself from a blow.

We’re going to need help here...

Already on our way.

Feet pounded on the stairs. Aletha’s head and arms came into view, and without breaking stride, she hurled a wadded-up ball of parchment down the hall, striking Sirius in the middle of the back. “Stop it,” she snapped, mounting the last few stairs and standing at the end of the hall, hands on her hips, as Sirius twisted to face her. “I don’t care why you did this, but stop it now. Look at him, Sirius. Look what you’re doing to him.”

Sirius turned back around, still with anger stamped on his face, anger which drained away almost instantly as he took in Harry’s posture, his normally fearless godson cowering back from him, curled in on himself, arms shielding his head.

“Harry, no – no, I didn’t mean that – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that...” He moved closer, reaching out tentatively to put an arm around Harry, then more firmly as Harry didn’t resist.

The door of the girls’ bedroom opened and Meghan stumbled out, rubbing her eyes. “What’s happening?” she asked sleepily. “I heard yelling.”

Aletha nodded to Danger, then took Meghan’s hand and led her back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

We’re going to have to leave someone behind with the girls and Harry, said Remus, appearing at the top of the stairs himself.

Leave someone behind? Where are we going?

To look for Draco. Unless we’re going to ignore common sense and a visitation from our serpent-loving friend.

Ha! You were listening in!

Yes, but this is an emergency, that’s different... Remus sighed. No, I suppose it’s not different, and I apologize, but can we talk about it later?

Of course. I just couldn’t resist twitting you once. It’s not like I get a lot of chances, O Perfect One.

You of all people ought to know I’m not perfect.

Funny how that works both ways.

“All right now?” Remus said aloud, coming down the hall.

“Will be in a minute,” said Sirius, looking up. He shook his head. “Why do I always have to do the boneheaded stuff around here?”

“Because you’re good at it?” suggested Harry in a voice which still shook a little, but was regaining its usual good humor.

“You’re fine,” said Remus, reaching down to scent-touch Harry. “What can you tell us?”

“I’d come upstairs to get something, and I saw Draco putting stuff in a backpack,” said Harry, letting Sirius help him up. “I asked him what he was doing, and he pulled his wand on me. I wasn’t expecting it, I didn’t have time to react. I asked him if he was running away, and he said yes, and he couldn’t let me stop him. He apologized and asked me to tell everyone that he loves them, but that he’s doing the right thing, and before I could yell he Stunned me.”

“About what time was this?” asked Sirius.

“I’m not sure.” Harry looked into the boys’ bedroom, at the windows. “It wasn’t dark yet, but it was getting dark. Maybe half an hour ago, maybe more. I didn’t look at the clock.”

“Pack honor on this, Harry?” asked Danger. Sirius had a point. It would be easy for him to be lying, trying to protect Draco.

Harry looked a bit offended. “Pack and Pride honor,” he said. “I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

“Please forgive us, Harry, we just have to be sure,” said Remus. “We’d ask the same of any of you cubs...” He looked over at Danger, an idea dawning in his eyes. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

I think I am. Hermione?

Yes.

“What’s up?” asked Sirius.

“Hermione might have seen Draco after you did,” said Danger. “You didn’t see her come upstairs, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “She was walking around in the ground floor hallway looking at a letter and talking to herself when I went upstairs,” he said. “If she came up, it was after me.”

“We can at least get a better idea of when he left, based on if she saw him or not,” said Remus, turning to the bathroom door. “Hermione?”

There was no answer.

“Hermione, I know you’re angry, but we need to talk to you.”

Still no answer.

“Last chance before we come in on our own.”

“Go away! ”

“Wrong answer,” said Remus, taking out his wand and tapping the lock. It clicked open, and he turned the door handle and pushed on the door.

It didn’t open.

She’s probably sitting against it, said Danger. Let me try?

If you think you’ll get anywhere.

“Hermione, we just want to ask you about Draco.”

“I’m not telling you anything! I hate you all! I’m sick and dying and you don’t even care!”

“If you’re ill, I’m coming in there right now,” said Danger, rising on her toes in preparation to Apparate.

“No! I’m fine! Just leave me alone!”

This is taking too long. “Hermione, did you see Draco when you came upstairs?” Remus asked.

“Yes.”

“What was he doing?”

“Climbing out the window.”

Oh God.

Yes. “And why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because I’m not a tattletale like Harry!”

“No, you just let him go off to get killed!” shouted Harry. “Hermione, Malfoy is out there, and Wormtail, and they want him dead! ”

“At least now he has a chance! If he stayed here, he’d be a sitting target!”

“You’re so–”

Sirius put a hand firmly over Harry’s mouth and steered him into the boys’ bedroom before they could hear what Hermione was so.

“This is not over, young lady,” said Remus sternly. “We’re going to be having a serious talk about this.”

“Fine.” Hermione’s voice radiated contempt.

This isn’t like her. What’s got into her?

Remus displayed his memory of his and Hermione’s last interaction. This is probably part of it, but I don’t know what would make her react this way in the first place. She’s usually so calm. But there’s no time to be thinking about that now.

No, you’re right. We need to get after Draco, and quickly. We know he went out the window, and probably down the tree. Is there any way we can track him by magic?

Not that I can think of... wait. Not by magic, per se, but we do have magic that will let us track him.

What?

Our Animagus forms. We can track him by scent. Unless he took a broomstick, and I don’t think he did...

Danger hurried down the stairs to look in the closet where the family kept their brooms. They’re all here, she reported. He’s on foot.

Excellent. We’ll not only be able to track him, we’ll be moving faster. We should be able to catch him up quickly.

I hope.

Sirius emerged from the boys’ bedroom, looking grave, as Danger came to the top of the stairs and Aletha exited the girls’ room. “Bad news?” Remus asked him.

“I’m not sure. Strange, certainly. Harry says Draco kept a stash of money in his desk drawer. It’s gone. He must have taken it with him.”

“Nothing strange about that,” said Aletha. “He knows things cost money in the real world.”

“But look what he left behind.” Sirius displayed it.

“That is bizarre,” said Danger. “Why wouldn’t he take his wand?”

“And it looks like he wrote something before he left, but I can’t find that anywhere either. I was just going to see if I can get anything from the desk. Want to watch? The more eyes, the better, I can only do this once.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Meghan, sliding out from behind Aletha and preceding her mother and Pack-mother down the hall and into the boys’ room, where Harry was already sitting on his own bed.

“Basically, I’m asking the desk to remember what was written on it last. Muggles can do this, sometimes, with powder or ink or things. Magic just makes it better.” Sirius set Draco’s wand aside, drew his own, pointed it at the desk, and moved it in a careful pattern, brows furrowed in concentration. His Pack-mates drew in behind him.

The writing which appeared on the desk was sketchy but legible.

Draco Black, born Draco Malfoy, has run away from his home in Devon. His current whereabouts are unknown.

Overlapping this were four words, written larger.

Daily Prophet News Office

Aletha groaned. “The Prophet – my God, they’ll be all over this, it’s a huge story, they wouldn’t even care if it wasn’t true – and it is, and he’s sent it to them himself...”

“No, he hasn’t,” said Meghan.

“How do you know?” asked Danger.

Meghan pointed. On the windowsill of the open window sat Hedwig the snowy owl, looking in at everyone.

“Hedwig,” said Harry, crossing quickly to her. “Have you been anywhere this evening? I mean, taken any letters?”

Hedwig hooted in what sounded like the negative.

“Besides, she wouldn’t have had time to get to London and back,” said Danger. “Look at her, she’s obviously not tired. He can’t have sent it yet.”

“But he wrote it,” said Sirius. “So he intended to send it. I suppose he could be planning to use a public post owl, that’s harder to trace, but how could he get anywhere to send one from? He’d have to be in a city, or at least a town with a wizarding population, like Hogsmeade...”

“Then he must be headed for somewhere like that,” said Danger.

“How would he get there?” asked Aletha. “He’s walking, not flying, and he can’t Apparate. Unless he breaks into someone’s house to use the Floo...”

“We can find out,” said Remus. “Harry, you’re in charge here. Let’s go, everyone, we have a trail to find.”

xXxXx

Draco’s scent was absurdly easy to locate. It came straight down the tree outside the cubs’ window and across the grass, then down the road for a while, before it abruptly terminated at a spot with a lot of exhaust fumes around it.

“Do you think he got a ride from someone?” asked Danger, frowning.

“Not exactly.” Sirius had a curious half-smile on his face. “But I do think he made a mistake. Stand back, everyone.” He threw out his left hand theatrically.

A loud BANG erupted, and a bright purple, triple-decker bus screeched to a stop directly in front of them.

Of course, said Remus. I feel stupid now.

Don’t worry, it’s mutual. You think this is why he took money?

Probably. That and to rent the owl.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus,” recited the pimple-faced young man in a violet uniform who had just leapt out the door of said conveyance. “Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard...”

“Yes, thank you,” said Sirius, cutting him off. “I’m Auror Sirius Black, I need to have a word with you and your driver.”

“Sirius – Sirius Black!” The conductor looked somewhere between amazed and appalled.

“Auror Sirius Black,” Sirius repeated a little more forcefully. “And you are...”

“Me? Stan, Stan Shunpike, sir, an’ the driver’s Ernie Prang – somefink wrong, sir?”

“I just need to know who you’ve picked up tonight,” said Sirius, beckoning for Stan to board the bus with him. “And where you took them. It shouldn’t take too long.”

The door closed behind them.

“Well, it seems Aurors are good for something after all,” said Danger with an effort at lightness. Then it evaporated. “Why? Why would he do something this stupid? Why couldn’t he just stay home?”

“Harry said he thought he was protecting us by running off,” said Remus.

“Protecting us by running off?” Aletha scoffed. “Doesn’t he understand anything about wards? If the person they’re targeted on leaves the house with no intent of coming back, they go down. I’m sure ours are down now, and it’s going to be harder to get them back up again than it was to get them up in the first place.”

Danger suddenly felt a complex burst of emotions, mingled anger and frustration with traces of dark humor and a sense of wasted effort. Was that you? she asked Remus.

Yes. “Refresh my memory,” said Remus. “Did we ever tell Draco about the wards on the house?”

Aletha swore under her breath. “No. No, we didn’t.”

“We told him we’d warded the house and grounds,” corrected Danger, chagrined. “But we didn’t tell him to what extent. So he must have thought we were still vulnerable.”

“And we didn’t tell him what we worked out with Dumbledore last week,” said Remus. “If we’d thought to do that, this might never have happened.”

The door of the bus thumped open before either woman could reply. “Thank you,” said Sirius, stepping off. “You can go now.”

The bus was away almost before the words were out of his mouth.

“What did you say to him?” asked Aletha.

“Pointed out the inadvisability of taking aboard a thirteen-year-old without any parents or guardians visible. I could report him, but I don’t think I will. Not after what he told me.” Sirius started back for the Den. “A boy with blond hair who gave his name as Dean Thomas boarded the bus just about here earlier this evening, and paid extra to move up in the queue. He got off in Hogsmeade.”

“Hogsmeade.” Remus drew the word out thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s where we should start, then. Who’s going, and who’s staying behind?”

“Going,” said Danger. “I look enough like a dog that most people won’t notice me, so I can trail him even through the village. Sirius, you should come too...”

“No,” said Sirius. “I think I need to stay.”

“Why?” asked Remus and Aletha together.

“Because there’s just the outside possibility that this is a blind.”

“A blind?” repeated Aletha. “You mean a diversion?”

“Yes. We put up the best wards possible, but they’re not invulnerable. What if – I’m not saying I think this happened, but just consider it – what if Malfoy, or Wormtail, got close enough to put Imperius on Draco, and make him run off like this? What better way could they have to pull us out of the Den and leave it – and Harry – relatively undefended?”

“That... makes too much sense,” said Danger slowly. “Two go, two stay, then?”

“That sounds reasonable,” said Remus. “Sirius, you’re right, you should stay.”

“Mark today on the calendar, someone. Moony just admitted I was right.”

“Because the wards involve you as well, and if there’s any chance there’s some of them left, you need to stay to keep them going, and because you’re one of the best wand-users I know. And Letha, you teamwork with this immature prat better than anyone I know, even me.”

“It was self-defense,” said Aletha with a touch of irony in her voice. “After I was stupid enough to marry him.”

“Oy!”

“Enough,” said Remus, reaching forward and separating Sirius and Aletha deftly as they reached the front door of the Den.

“Did you find anything?” said Meghan, jumping up from her seat on the landing as soon as the adults were inside.

“Yes, and we’ll explain in a minute,” said Aletha. Meghan nodded and sat back down next to Harry, who put his arm around her.

“If we’re going, let’s go,” said Danger, trying to hide her nervousness and outright fear under bluster and aware that she wasn’t succeeding very well. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we’re back.”

“Take care,” said Aletha, hugging Danger and Remus in turn. “Bring him back safe.”

“Bring yourselves back safe,” was Sirius’ wish. “And if you do see Malfoy, Moony, bite him on the arse for me.”

“I’ll consider it,” said Remus. “See what you can do for Neenie?” he asked Aletha. “I can’t help feeling she might be ill or hurt and not telling us.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t get hurt,” Meghan instructed Remus. “I don’t want to have to take care of you.”

“We will certainly keep that in mind,” said Remus gravely.

Harry pulled something long and thin out of his pocket. “Give him this,” he said, handing it to Danger. “He forgot it.”

Danger nodded, tucked the item into her pocket, and hugged Harry once, tightly, then took her cloak from the coat tree in the corner by the door and followed Remus outside.

Outside the Three Broomsticks?

Sounds good.

A soft pop and a somewhat louder crack sounded outside the door of the Den.

xXxXx

Even so soon after sunset, and at the end of August, it was chilly at night in the mountains. It would have been nice to have a fire. It would have been almost like having company. Like having a friend along.

But I can’t have friends now. It’s too dangerous.

And besides, a fire attracts attention. It would be like jumping around, waving my arms, screaming, “Here I am!”

But isn’t that what I’m doing anyway?

Draco lay curled up on the floor of a cave, feeling more than usually young and thoroughly miserable. He rearranged his position slightly, shivering inside several layers of clothes, and wished he had his recorder with him, or his flute. He hadn’t brought either, because there was no point. He wouldn’t be needing them, once his father found him.

And if a fire would attract attention, so would music. I’m better off the way I am.

But aren’t I supposed to be trying to attract attention? To pull it off everyone else?

I’m so confused. I don’t even know why I did this anymore. It was stupid, it was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done...

But what else was I supposed to do? Sit at home and wonder who else was going to get killed?

He uncoiled a little, just enough to get his hand up to his chest, where he could hold onto his pendants. They were warm, as they had been all day, reflecting the Pack and Pride’s general state of distress over Andromeda Tonks’ death.

I’ve seen enough death. I don’t want anyone else to die. Especially not because of me.

I sent that letter before the post office closed, so it should be in London in time for the morning papers. If the Prophet makes a big enough deal out of it, I shouldn’t have too long to wait.

Once he finds me, what then?

Not for the first time, the irony of the situation struck Draco. If I were anyone else, running away from what amounts to a foster family and hoping my real father will find me would be a really great story. But I’m not anyone else. I’m me. And I don’t really want him to find me.

But better me than someone else.

That thought, which had driven him into this in the first place, was starting to lose its urgency, and a very unheroic wish to go home was gaining strength in its place. Draco closed his eyes and deliberately summoned up all the worst thoughts and images from the ones which had been haunting him all day:

Luna, collapsed on the ground, her eyes open and unblinking, her face frozen in her eternal expression of mild, pleasant surprise.

Hermione, screaming and writhing in pain, being allowed only a few seconds between spells to breathe before another curse was laid on her.

Meghan, biting and kicking frantically against her captor’s hold, trying to get to Harry, who lay on the grass, eyes shut, glasses askew, a huge dark patch spreading on his robes.

The Pack-parents lying in their beds, Padfoot’s arm under Letha’s neck, Danger’s head on Moony’s shoulder, too still and too silent to be asleep, never to laugh or sing or play pranks again.

The Burrow in flames, collapsing under its own weight.

Neville, tortured into insanity like his parents.

And that could happen – all of it could happen – if I ask them to protect me.

Better me than someone else.

A scraping sound on the path outside brought him to full awareness instantly.

Now? Already? What do I do?

His hand dropped automatically to his waist, fumbling for the hilt of his dagger.

Could I – can I – kill him? Is that even possible?

The sounds were now obviously footsteps, two sets of them, getting closer. Draco got slowly to his feet, his dagger in his hand, backing up until he ran into the wall of the cave.

Ow .

He felt his way along the back wall, looking for a place to hide, and found a little space like a natural closet, tucked into a corner. It was large enough for him to squeeze into.

Emphasis on squeeze.

And he was just in time, as a man’s figure was silhouetted against the entryway. Draco clamped down on his breathing, forcing himself to keep it regular and quiet, neither gasping nor holding his breath, as a second figure followed the first.

Wait a second – that looks like a woman. Why would a woman be with my father? And where’s Wormtail? I would have thought they’d stick together...

He just managed to keep from yelping as flames suddenly erupted in the center of the cave, and again as their light revealed the faces of the two people who had tracked him down.

No. No, no, no! You weren’t supposed to follow me! You were supposed to be glad I was gone, because I was endangering the whole Pack!

Maybe they don’t know I’m here.

He would have hit himself, but that was problematic at the moment. Right. It’s just coincidence that they came straight to the cave where I am, not an hour after I left the Den. I don’t think so.

Still, if Moony and Danger did know he was there, they weren’t showing it. They were sitting one on each side of the fire, staring into it, and as Draco watched, Danger took something from her pocket and placed it on the cave floor, carefully out of range of the flames. The firelight flickered on the sheen of carved and polished wood.

They definitely know I’m here. There’s no other reason they’d have brought my recorder.

“I wish we had some company,” said Danger quietly, so that Draco had to strain to hear her over the crackle of the flames.

“So do I,” returned Moony. “I wish we could have a chance to explain a few things that we should have explained weeks ago. Such as why the Den was actually safer when the Pack was together.”

Safer when the Pack was together? What does that mean? Draco inched a little way out of his rocky cubbyhole to listen.

“Yes, that,” Danger agreed. “And maybe discuss that old joke about steak sauce and a dragon’s cave.”

Moony chuckled. “I do like that one.”

Draco leaned just a little farther out –

And lost his balance and fell over. The layers of clothes he was wearing ensured that he wasn’t hurt, but it was still embarrassing.

Moony waited for Draco to sit up and brush himself off, then beckoned him over to the fire, and Draco came, first sheathing his dagger, then standing up and coming to the place Danger had marked for him, picking up his recorder and sitting down where it had been.

“So,” said Moony, “do you know why the wizard doused himself in steak sauce and ran into the dragon’s cave?”

Might as well play along. “No. Why did the wizard douse himself in steak sauce and run into the dragon’s cave?”

“Because it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

The heat on Draco’s face was not all due to the fire.

“Your turn,” said Danger. “Why did the cub run away from the Den?”

“Because the cub didn’t want to see his Pack get killed just because of him.”

“Why did the cub think his Pack might be in danger?” asked Moony.

“Because of my father!” Draco shouted, suddenly fed up with their patience. How could they not see what was so clear to him? “He killed Aunt Andy, didn’t he? And Padfoot said none of us are safe now. I heard him. And he was right. No one’s safe with me around. Maybe he doesn’t want me dead, but he doesn’t give a rat’s arse about anyone else – he’d kill everyone, Pack and Pride, just to get at me and take me back. But if I’m out here, then he can just take me, and no one has to die.”

Moony and Danger exchanged looks. Danger spoke next. “You’re quite right, Draco, Sirius did say that we’re none of us safe. But the answer to making us more safe is not for you to make a target of yourself. And this is partly our fault – we should have explained to you what we were doing to make the Den more secure, but we had no idea you were worried.”

Draco shuffled his feet. “I hid it.”

“You hid it very well.” Danger sounded at least partly approving. “Now. How much do you know about blood magic?”

“Only what’s in the den-night stories. That it’s why Harry went to his aunt and uncle’s, because his mum died to save him, and that created magic with his mum’s blood relatives, so that no one who wanted to hurt him could do it while he was living with them. Except them.”

“Yes, but that’s another story,” said Moony. “Draco, when this new threat arose, we talked to Albus at length about safeguarding the Den, and he discovered something very interesting. Harry is not the only one of our cubs whose mother’s death left magical protection behind.”

“Hermione?”

“Not quite,” said Danger.

But Meghan’s mum is Letha, and Letha’s not dead...

“Your mother died so that no one could use her against you,” said Moony quietly. “So that you would never have divided loyalties. You know the story – what did she ask of us?”

A small bird seemed to be fluttering in Draco’s chest, making it difficult for him to get his breath. “She asked you to make me forget her. To erase her name and her face from my memory. But you wouldn’t.”

“Because that would have been wrong,” said Danger. “Now more than ever. Your mother’s death was enough of a sacrifice for you that Professor Dumbledore was able to raise blood magic wards on the Den, because Sirius and Meghan live there, and they are your mother’s blood relatives.”

Blood magic wards – the strongest kind there are. The only thing they don’t defend against is other people of that bloodline, and it was my mother’s blood, not my father’s – he wouldn’t be able to pass them!

The bird was much larger now, and beating its wings to the rhythm of his heartbeat, or maybe it was his heart beating, he couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter.

I can go home. The Pack will be safe – and they’ll keep the Pride safe if need be – and we’ll be at Hogwarts within a week anyway – I can go home!

“Now, back to Harry’s story,” said Moony, in a tone that warned Draco there was still a reckoning to pay. “When, and why, did the blood magic wards around his relatives’ house collapse?”

Draco thought hard. “They collapsed when you took him away,” he said finally. “Because they could tell that you didn’t mean to bring Harry back to the house, so they weren’t needed any more.”

“Precisely,” said Danger. “So what do you think happened to the wards on the Den – which, I might add, protect everyone, since anyone who wanted to hurt one of us would probably want to hurt you as well – when you went out a window without the intent of coming back?”

Oops. “I didn’t even know about them,” muttered Draco, knowing he sounded sulky.

“We know,” said Danger. “So your punishment will be very light. You have to come home right away and not make any trouble about it.”

“What if I don’t?” Draco challenged.

“We will make you,” said Moony flatly. “Do not test us on this, Draco, we are not playing games. What you did tonight can be explained with a combination of ignorance, which is our fault, and your wish to protect the people you love, which is not a fault at all, though I’d rather you think a little harder next time.”

“And remember that love goes both ways,” added Danger. “We want to see bad things happen to you about as much as you want to see them happen to us.”

Moony nodded thanks to her and continued. “This is not the time for open defiance. You will, eventually, need to make your own decisions about your life and what you do with it, but not tonight, and not about this, and if you try, I will personally Stun you, haul you home, and confine you to the Den for the next six months.”

Draco met his Pack-father’s cold blue eyes. “You wouldn’t do that.”

Moony folded his arms. “Try me.”

He really means it. Draco held his rebellious pose for one more second, careful not to let Moony see how much he secretly appreciated this, then relaxed and grinned. “Gotcha.”

Moony stared at him for an instant, then scooped up a handful of fire and threw it at Draco like a snowball. Draco yelled and ducked, and the fireball missed him, turned around in midair, and came back, shattering against the side of his head before he could dodge it again, with no effects except a sound like water on hot metal and a slight smell of smoke.

“And if I get any more lip from you, I won’t damp the next one,” warned Moony, but Draco could see something in his eyes which reminded him of Professor Dumbledore.

“I suppose we did something right, if he can bluff even you that well,” said Danger, chuckling. “Come on, fox, there are some anxious people waiting for us. We should go home.”

Home.

It sounded even better now than it had a minute ago.

Then he remembered one of the last things he’d done before he left, the thing that had made it necessary for him to leave before full dark fell. “Er, I think I owe Harry an apology,” he said a little uncertainly.

And if they say “What are you talking about?” so much the better...

“Yes, I think you do,” said Danger, fixing him with a semi-amused look. “The linen closet? Really, Draco, couldn’t you find anywhere better for your poor brother?”

“Not on short notice!” protested Draco. “I was in a hurry!”

“And someday you may be in a hurry in enemy territory,” said Moony, with the look which meant this had just turned into a lesson. “The linen closet was a bad choice, why?”

Draco scowled, picking up his pack. “Because people are in and out of there a lot, and someone probably found him before he woke up.”

“Correct. Name three other places on the first floor of the Den which would have been better choices.”

“Under the beds,” said Draco, as Danger snapped her fingers to put the fire out. “In a laundry hamper, covered up with clothes so no one would see him right away. And...”

“Bathtub,” said Moony, leading the way out of the cave. “If you pull out the shower curtain a bit, no one will see him in a cursory inspection, and that’s all you need to buy some time for a getaway. Grab on, now. I’m going to Apparate us home.”

Draco took hold of Moony’s arm and held on tight. Just before the pressed-in feeling of Apparition began, he felt Danger’s fingers touch his cheek.

I’m going home.

It was the best feeling he’d ever had in his life.

xXxXx

To Remus’ surprise, Hermione met them at the door with everyone else, and ran to him as soon as he was fairly inside. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, rocking on her feet as if she wanted to be hugged, but wasn’t sure if he would take her in his arms or push her away. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t really mean any of that, and I won’t take Muggle Studies if you say not to, and I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you Draco was leaving, I should have, I know, he could have gotten hurt and it would have been my fault, and I ought to be punished...”

Aletha caught Remus’ eye and signaled to him. No punishment. Explain later.

“No, you shouldn’t,” said Remus, opening his arms to her. “Come here, Kitten.”

Hermione made a little sound like a sob and clung to him.

xXxXx

The cubs had gone off to do something by themselves, so the adults were taking full advantage of their last cub-free time tonight, since this would certainly be an occasion for denning. Remus firecalled the offices of the Daily Prophet to tell them that the letter they would soon receive was a fake, then went to help Aletha assemble the den while Danger measured out the spices for mulled mead and Sirius dug some double-chocolate brownies out of the freezer.

“Now,” Remus said when everything was ready, sitting down at the table with a brownie in one hand and a mug of mead in the other. “Letha. Why exactly shouldn’t Hermione be punished? I trust you, but I’d like to know.”

“First things first,” said Aletha around a mouthful of brownie. She swallowed and looked at Danger. “You owe me.”

“For what?”

“For laying out for one Hermione Granger-Lupin the basic facts of life.”

“Basic facts of... oh. Oh. ”

“Translation?” said Sirius, looking as baffled as Remus felt.

“Hermione is, shall we say, turning into a woman,” said Aletha with a small smile. “And that was why she thought she was dying – seeing blood on that piece of clothing can be a little unnerving if you’re not expecting it, which she wasn’t.”

“Which is probably my fault,” said Danger, shaking her head. “I should have realized, she’s been so moody lately. Poor girl.”

Sirius set down his brownie, looking faintly unwell.

“On that subject,” added Aletha, looking at the men. “The boys will be needing the talk soon, now that Hermione’s gotten it. You two get to fight over who does it.”

Remus turned to Sirius and set his fist on his palm. Sirius did likewise. They pounded them once, twice, three times, and Sirius flattened his hand while Remus shot two fingers out.

“Yes!” Remus took a victorious gulp of his mead as Sirius cursed darkly.

“Baby,” said Danger. “It can’t be that bad.”

“With these boys? Yes, it can. They’re going to figure out some way to turn it around on me and embarrass the hell out of me. You watch.”

Aletha grinned. “Watch you get embarrassed? Love to.”

xXxXx

Draco didn’t want to look up – it was so much more comfortable to keep his gaze fixed firmly on his bedroom carpet – but he knew he had to. Slowly, he raised his head and met Harry’s eyes.

What he saw there made him want to cringe. For the first time in his life, Draco Black could believe that Harry Potter would be ashamed to call him a brother. Hermione and Meghan looked on silently.

“You put Pack and Pride in danger,” said Harry coldly. “You attacked your alpha. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Draco dropped to one knee, keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s, tilting his head back to expose his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was wrong.”

Harry put his hand on Draco’s throat and constricted it ever so little, just enough that Draco could feel it. He resisted the urge to swallow nervously, since Harry would certainly feel that. A moment later, Harry let go and gave him a small nod. Draco bowed his head thankfully, and felt again the flutter of hope and joy in his chest at the touch of Harry’s hand on the back of his neck.

He doesn’t hate me. He still thinks I can be Pride. And Moony obviously thinks I can still be Pack.

He recalled the moment before they had entered the Den, when they had been alone, since Danger had gone ahead to tell everyone the good news.

xXxXx

“Moony?”

“Yes?”

“Do we have to go in right away?”

“Why, is there something you have to do?”

“Sort of.” A bit awkwardly, unbalanced by his backpack, Draco knelt and looked up at Moony, his head tilted back.

Please let him understand...

Surprise colored Moony’s features for one moment before it was replaced by the calm mask of the alpha male. Deliberately, Moony placed his hand around Draco’s throat, not applying any pressure at all, just touching him, then let go and laid his hand on top of Draco’s head.

Draco had to squeeze his eyes shut tight. Forgiven, his Pack-father and alpha had said in that one small gesture. All forgiven, all over. You are Pack, now and forever.

xXxXx

“Draco.”

Harry’s voice called him back to the present. “What?”

“Think fast.”

Draco’s eyes shot open to see Harry’s foot moving into position for a shove. He grabbed it and tugged, and Harry fell on his rump, prompting Hermione to jump down from the bed and perch on his chest. Meghan tackled her from behind, trying to pull her off him, and almost succeeded, until Draco started peeling her off finger by finger. She turned and threw herself onto him, knocking him over backwards.

Soon they would call a truce, and go downstairs and have a snack, and then would come den-night, with stories and songs and games. Whatever tomorrow might bring, tonight they were the Pack, and nothing and no one could change that.

Hermione screeched. Harry had her pinned now, and was sitting on her back looking smug.

Well, we can’t have that.

Draco abandoned abstract thought and dived into the game.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 5: Planning and Promises (Year 3)


Chapter 5: Planning and Promises

Harry drifted into wakefulness, all his thoughts hazily pleasant.

Denning is good. Having Draco back safely is good. Going to Diagon Alley today is good.

He took a deep breath, then let it out in a slow hiss, stretching all over, bringing his whole body awake. When he felt ready to get up, he opened his eyes to make sure he wouldn’t hit anyone. The usual welter of den-night presented itself before him, the Pack lying tangled comfortably with one another, sheets, light blankets, and pillows mingled with arms, legs, and heads in a mess that would have been disturbing if it hadn’t been so clear that all the body parts were safely attached where they should be.

Harry frowned. Not everything was where it should be. Someone was missing.

“Good morning,” said Padfoot quietly from behind him. Harry turned to see his godfather sitting in an armchair he must have brought in from the living room, with parchment, ink, quills, and his wand all on a small table in front of him.

“Morning,” Harry answered. “You’re up early.”

Padfoot smothered a yawn and nodded. “I was up at six. Standing watch, or sitting, rather. We took it in turns all night.”

Harry nodded. “Because the wards went down when Draco left.”

“The blood magic wards went down when he left,” Padfoot corrected. “The wards we put up ourselves stayed. But they’re not as strong as the blood magic, and we wanted to be certain we’d be ready if anything did happen. Not to mention, we didn’t want to give anyone a chance to sneak out on us again.”

“I don’t think he will,” said Harry, coming over to sit near Padfoot’s chair. “I hope he doesn’t.”

“Draco’s not the only one I meant.”

“Huh?” Harry was confused for a moment. “What, me?”

“Are you honestly telling me it never crossed your mind?”

“Running away?”

“Yes.”

“Why would I do that? It’s stupid. Going out and getting killed wouldn’t make anyone safer.”

“Hold on to that attitude,” said Padfoot under his breath. “You may need it.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Listen, Harry, there’s something I need to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

“Moony’s planning on introducing your year to magical creatures. Hinkypunks, grindylows, and the like. He was going to start out with boggarts. Is that going to be a problem?”

“A problem?” There was some subtle undercurrent here Harry wasn’t getting. “What kind of problem?”

“You’ve seen a boggart before, haven’t you?”

“Yes. First year, going after the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

“Do you remember what it turned into?”

For a moment, Harry didn’t. Then he did, and wished he hadn’t. “I can explain,” he said, sounding lame even to himself.

“I’d appreciate that. I won’t laugh, and I won’t tell anyone, not even Letha. Marauder’s honor.”

It brought a small smile to Harry’s face to see his godfather holding up his left hand to swear. “All right.”

He had to go back farther than he thought he would, back to Alex’s story about his family, which made more sense now that he knew who Alex actually was, and from there to the dream he’d had that night and the boggart later that year.

“I don’t think that’s what I’d see anymore, though,” Harry said, winding a scrap of parchment around his finger. “I mean, it happened. The dream came true. Parts of it, anyway. Draco ran away, and it was sort of my fault. But you didn’t do what you did in the dream. You were angry, but you didn’t shake me or threaten me or anything. So I don’t think you’re what I’m most afraid of anymore.”

“I appreciate that, Harry,” said Padfoot with a straight face. “I really do. But do you have any idea what you might see instead?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess... Voldemort. Except I don’t really know what he looks like. I saw the face on Quirrell’s head, but that can’t be right, can it?”

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. If you thought it was Voldemort, that’s the form the boggart would take. And if I remember your description right, it sounds likely to scare your friends. Not to mention, it’s what they’ll be expecting from you. Some of them will be hoping for it, some of them won’t, but all of them are likely to panic if he actually turns up.”

“So I shouldn’t face the boggart?” Harry didn’t like the idea, but still less did he like the thought of being responsible for class-wide panic. He was hoping to get through this year without losing any points from Gryffindor.

Well, except the ones lost in honorable prank endeavors.

“Probably not.” Padfoot reached over to ruffle Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry, Greeneyes. I know you hate being different.”

“It’s not like it’s anything I can get away from.” Harry tugged at the parchment moodily. “It’s part of who I am now. Not all of it, but it’s there, and I can’t very well pretend it isn’t. I just have to live with it.”

“Hunh.” Padfoot sounded surprised, but with a trace of thoughtfulness in his tone as well. “Harry James Potter, I do believe you’re growing up.”

“Oh no,” said Harry, lying down and flailing his arms and legs as if he were drowning. “Help, help. Someone save me.”

“I’d love to,” said Padfoot, blocking another yawn, “but I’m too lazy. If I had some tea, maybe...”

“Stop trying to be sneaky,” said Harry, getting up. “You’re not very good at it.”

Padfoot grinned. “That’s what makes it so much fun.”

xXxXx

Well, there was no point in making tea and not starting breakfast.

It didn’t take the Pack long to follow their noses to the source of the smells of sausage and toast. “Thank you, love,” said Danger, hugging Harry from behind. “What a lovely way to wake up.”

“Can I ask you something?” said Hermione to Draco.

“You just did.”

“Something else?”

“You just did again.”

Hermione picked up the saucer of marmalade threateningly.

“Yes,” said Draco hastily.

“Why didn’t you take your wand with you?” Hermione set the marmalade down and helped herself to a generous spoonful.

“Because we’re not supposed to do magic outside school, and I’m a good little boy...” Anything else Draco might have had to say was drowned out in a general chorus of incredulity from the rest of the Pack.

“No, really,” said Hermione when the noise died down.

Draco made patterns in his ketchup with his fork. “Because I didn’t want him to have one.”

Breakfast was much quieter after that.

xXxXx

In the boys’ bedroom, Draco dumped out his backpack on his bed and started digging through it, sorting out everything he’d taken with him to put away later, then frowned.

Something’s missing.

It only took him a moment to figure out what, and when he did, he hurried downstairs to the music room, where he remembered seeing Danger last. She was there, sitting in a corner of the sofa, reading. “What’s going on, fox?” she asked, looking up.

“I can’t find my socks.”

“They’re on your feet.”

“Not these socks. The ones you made me. I know I took them with me, but they’re not in my bag now.”

“Maybe you dropped them somewhere,” Danger suggested. “On the bus, or in the cave.”

“Maybe.” Draco looked at her sideways and debated whether or not to try his innocent act. It probably wouldn’t work so soon after a major episode of rule-breaking, but there was always a chance.

“Do you want me to go and look in the cave?” asked Danger, one corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

Draco gave her a tiny smile. “I just feel bad about losing them after you went to all that work making them for me.”

Danger shook her head. “If I put butter in your mouth right now, it would freeze,” she said, standing up. “I’ll go and have a look.”

“Thank you.” Draco stepped back, giving her room to turn on the spot and vanish with a crack.

She’s never been very good at that.

He hadn’t been lying. He did want those socks back. But with Moony showering, and Padfoot and Letha out reinforcing the wards, this was also an opportunity.

After all, he couldn’t allow a new school year to start without playing one big prank.

xXxXx

Danger slipped into the cave and conjured a fireball above her head to light the place. It looked much as she recalled from the night before, and yes, there on the stone floor lay a pair of hand-knitted green and blue striped socks. She crossed to them and bent over to pick them up, but stopped as the light of her fire revealed something unusual about them.

What is that? It looks like little pellets of dirt.

She changed forms, took a cautious sniff, and sneezed hard. Ugh. Something wasn’t happy about these. Small animal of some kind. Rodent, I think. Mouse or mole or...

She froze for a second, then started sniffing around the rest of the cave. Her own scent, and Remus’, and Draco’s, were all clear. But there were others. Two others. And the three scents she knew about were scarcely older than the two she had not.

An hour at most. Probably less. I can’t tell unless I get a good comparison spot.

She continued around the perimeter of the cave and found a place, hand-height on the entrance, where two hands had rested. One had belonged to her husband. The other had not. And the one had been there barely ten minutes before the other.

The wolf-mind, working this out, was not perturbed by it. The part that was Danger Granger-Lupin wasn’t so lucky, and lost its hold on the wolf, emerging into human form and sitting down with a thump.

Ten minutes. Dear God, if we hadn’t found Harry when we did – if we’d delayed much more tracking Draco – if we’d been held up by anything down in Hogsmeade...

What is it? You’re shaking so hard, I can feel it from here.

We were just in time last night, Remus. Here. Danger spread what she’d gleaned before him.

There was a pause, then a low-voiced curse. I’m going to the Ministry as soon as I’m decent. You come home. Don’t touch anything, they’ll want to search the cave, and that whole area.

On my way. Danger stood up, careful not to touch the place which had given her the information she sought, and left the cave for the cheerful, sunlit path, not quite so friendly now as it had been a moment ago.

Is someone watching me?

She carefully pulled her mind away from that and fixed it on her destination, wanting with all her being to be home in her Den with her Pack. Rising on her toes, she turned in place.

She was being squashed, pressed, sandwiched, flattened, constricted, crushed...

Impressive. Six in a row.

Danger appeared with a loud crack in the music room. I can do better.

I’m sure. Later, love. Sirius and Letha are on their way in. Brief them?

Yes, sir.

“At least they’re not showing any signs of decay,” Sirius said over his shoulder as he opened the back door and came inside.

“Why would they decay? They’re barely a month old.” Aletha followed him in.

“What looks like decay might be someone nibbling at them, testing them, trying to get them down.”

“They’re nowhere near the Den,” said Danger, getting the Blacks’ attention. “If you mean who I think you mean.”

“Who else?” asked Sirius. “And how do you know?”

“I was just up north again. There were signs and scent all over that cave. Malfoy and Wormtail were in there not ten minutes after we left.”

“Ten minutes?” repeated Aletha with a slight sound of strain in her voice.

Sirius shook his head. “I’ve always said your timing is perfect, Danger,” he said, “but this is ridiculous.”

xXxXx

Sirius waited in the Leaky Cauldron by the fireplace, Aletha on the other side. They weren’t taking any unnecessary chances here – the two of them had Apparated to the pub first, the cubs would follow by Floo, and then Remus and Danger would Apparate in, ensuring that the cubs were never left with fewer than two Pack-parents to defend them at any one time.

Maybe we are being paranoid. But better paranoid and alive than easy-going and dead. Or anything else.

Meghan was the first out of the fireplace, followed by Harry, then Draco, then Hermione. A moment later, Danger materialized with a loud snap, causing several heads to turn. Remus appeared with a quiet pop and flashed Sirius a hand sign.

All quiet. Good.

At least they weren’t attracting too much attention. Only one or two of the denizens of the pub were still looking at them. Still, one or two people openly staring could make even a grown wizard, otherwise quite sure of himself, highly uncomfortable, and Sirius saw with a feeling of sullen irritation that their eyes were lingering on Draco the longest.

We should have expected this. Hell, we did expect it. And there’s not much we can do to avoid it. Bringing everyone else here and leaving him home wouldn’t do – besides dividing us at a time we really can’t afford division, it’s unfair to Draco. He deserves as much normality as we can give him.

Sirius kept an eye on his cubs, chattering like any children of their age, as Remus opened the wall leading to Diagon Alley. They really had come a long way from where they’d started. He hoped their parents, wherever they were now, approved. Minus Lucius, of course.

But the cubs weren’t quite like other children their age. Sirius watched with approval as their eyes roved through the crowds, seeking and finding places to run, places to get the wall at their backs, places where they could hide, and Floo hookups for a quick getaway. Even Meghan was sizing people up as they approached, and Sirius felt a brief moment of regret for his little girl, who had never been able to give the entire world the unmixed trust she naturally would have. Her whole life had been tainted by secrecy.

No, not tainted. Secrecy’s touched her life, been part of it, but it hasn’t hurt her any. And maybe if other children knew more of what she knows, there wouldn’t be as many cases for that one squad of Aurors. That was one assignment he never wanted – to follow up on the reports of child abuse or neglect or other crimes against children, which were, thankfully, less frequent than they were in the Muggle world, but did sometimes happen.

Sirius glanced up, half-expecting to see a storm cloud hovering over him, raining on him. Aren’t I cheerful today. Enough of this. Time to enjoy myself. I won’t have much more time with these four before they head off to school again.

He slid up into the center of the cubs, sensing Aletha moving into the tail position he’d left, and pointed out a “SALE” sign at Gambol and Japes to Harry and Draco, getting exactly the response he’d hoped for – widened smiles, furtive looks at one another, and flickered hand signals, some of which Sirius couldn’t interpret. It seemed the Pride had improved upon Marauder hand signs.

Good for them. Never let anyone else know all your secrets.

All the necessary chores were completed, buying robes and parchment and quills and books – the required book for Care of Magical Creatures was a little startling, as it seemed to be alive, and would bite anyone who came near it. The manager looked appalled when presented with three students who all needed a copy.

“Three Monster Book of Monsters, coming right up,” he said resolutely, pulling on leather gloves and picking up a thick cane.

“Who assigned this?” asked Hermione, watching in fascination as the manager battled with the books, thwacking away with his cane, separating one from the herd and yanking it out of the cage, then sitting on it until it stopped struggling.

“Someone who thought you needed practice handling dangerous creatures,” said Remus, catching Sirius’ eye with a small smile. The Pack-adults all knew who was teaching Care of Magical Creatures this year. “Can I help you with that?” Remus added to the manager, who was attempting to Spellotape the book shut without getting bitten.

“I doubt it,” said the manager frankly, dodging a lunge by the book, “but if you care to try, go ahead...”

Remus stepped forward and seized the book, clamping it shut with both hands, then turned and presented it to Danger, who ran her hand firmly down the spine. The book shivered a little, then relaxed, as much as a stiff-bound book could, and lay quietly in Remus’ hands.

“They like to be stroked,” said Remus, returning the now quiescent book to the staring manager.

Two more Monster Books were lured over to the bars and stroked, then removed from the cage as quietly as any book in the store. The other books stopped tearing at each other and started sidling hopefully over to the bars, and the manager called up a pair of employees to stroke them all. “Thank you,” he said fervently to Remus. “This will save us a lot of time.”

“Always happy to help.”

Three Transfiguration texts, three Charms texts, two for Arithmancy, and two for Ancient Runes finished the textbook shopping. Danger and Hermione were staring at the fiction section with identical wistful expressions. Sirius had to turn around hastily to avoid laughing in their faces.

“Why don’t we stay here,” suggested Remus blandly. “And you and Letha can take Meghan to get her wand, Sirius.”

“If you’re sure.”

“We should be all right. And you’ll know if we’re not.”

“True enough.”

xXxXx

Sirius had only been to Ollivanders twice before, once as an eleven-year-old to get his own wand, and once with James to buy a replacement (James had dropped his wand out of a Gringotts cart while attempting to see if there was really a dragon at the end of a passageway). Both times, he had felt as though he were being called on the carpet. Mr. Ollivander seemed to know about everything he’d ever done and a few things he hadn’t.

Aletha poked him, bringing him back from his reverie. “Good morning,” said Mr. Ollivander, appearing around the corner of an aisle. “How may I help you today?”

Sirius looked at Aletha. Go on, her eyes said. He cleared his throat. “Meghan needs a wand,” he said, trying to keep his voice from being unnecessarily loud.

“Meghan?” Mr. Ollivander looked slightly puzzled. “How odd. I was under the impression she wouldn’t be starting school for another year.”

“I’m not,” said Meghan, sliding out from behind Aletha. “But I’m apprenticing to Madam Pomfrey at the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and I need a wand to learn some of the spells.”

Good girl! I hadn’t thought of that – of course, that’s why she needs it, and it’s not even illegal there, because she is at school, even if she’s not officially a student yet...

“I see,” said Mr. Ollivander, nodding slowly. “I do see. Very well, young lady, may I see your wand arm, please?” He pulled a long tape measure from his pocket and set it to measuring various parts of Meghan’s body while he began collecting wands from the shelves. Sirius wondered what point there was in taking the measurements if he didn’t look at them. Maybe he kept them on file so he could replace a wand more easily, or maybe the tape measure gave them to him as it took them.

“Let me see. Cherry wood and phoenix feather, seven and a half inches, pliable...”

Meghan tried half a dozen wands before a springy piece of ebony, eight and a half inches long, containing a unicorn tail hair, sprayed red and blue sparks across the shop, making her squeal with delight.

Mr. Ollivander beamed. “Lovely, lovely,” he said, taking the wand back from Meghan and wrapping it up. “And something rather interesting. I don’t suppose you’d recall it, Mr. Black, Mrs. Freeman-Black, but this is one of the wands I had your young ward Harry try out when he was here two years ago. Very interesting, that it should now choose to go to his sister.”

“I’d just prefer to hear that there’s nothing dodgy about the unicorn you got the tail hair from,” said Sirius. “Or the people you sold other wands with this core to.”

“No, nothing... dodgy,” said Mr. Ollivander, fixing Sirius with his rather unnerving pale eyes. “I obtained four tail hairs from that particular unicorn. A lovely female, just into adulthood, quite graceful. Two of the wands I sold long ago, and the third I have not yet made. That particular hair is not ready to be used.”

“Understandable,” said Aletha. “Seven Galleons, then?”

The sale completed, the Blacks left the shop. “Not ready to be used?” said Sirius once they were on the street again. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, come on,” said Aletha. “You’ve told me yourself about writing something, then taking it out of that story because it doesn’t fit and putting it somewhere else where it does. This is no different.”

Sirius felt that somehow, it was, but refrained from saying so.

As they approached Flourish and Blotts, the manager Remus had assisted earlier came hurrying out the door. “Looking for the people you were with earlier?” he asked. “Brown-haired man and woman with two boys and a girl?”

“Yes, we are,” said Aletha, seemingly casual, but Sirius sensed that she’d tensed a bit at this, and he was on alert himself.

This might be a trap...

“They went over to the Magical Menagerie. They asked me to tell you.”

Or it might not. “Thank you,” said Sirius.

“Not at all. The least I can do, considering how much they’ve made my life easier.” The manager gestured to the window, where, instead of the cage which had been there earlier, three pretty young witches in Flourish and Blotts uniforms sat stroking copies of The Monster Book of Monsters .

“That’s one way to sell books,” said Sirius when they were well away from the store.

“What is?” asked Meghan.

“To show how to handle them,” said Aletha smoothly.

Nice one, Sirius signed to her behind Meghan’s back.

Someone has to take care of you, she signed back.

The door of the Magical Menagerie swung open. Sirius looked around. Harry and Draco were back in a corner, looking at a cage filled with ravens. Remus was observing the poisonous snails, and Danger was watching a white rabbit turn into a top hat and back again. Hermione –

Hermione was just turning away from the counter, beaming, her arms filled with orange fur. “There you are!” she said, hurrying over to Sirius and Aletha. “Look what I’ve got! Moony said I could, he’s an early birthday present. His name is Crookshanks.”

Sirius reached out gingerly and stroked the cat. He was immediately rewarded with a purr that resembled the engine on his motorbike. “Looks like he’s part kneazle,” he said, seeing that the cat’s tail ended in a lion-like tuft.

“And part Persian,” Aletha put in, allowing Crookshanks to sniff her fingers. “Either that, or he had an argument with a brick wall and came out worst off.”

Sirius couldn’t deny that. The cat looked as if it had been dropped on its face several times as a kitten. Still, he liked cats, or it might be more accurate to say that he didn’t mind them. He really had no strong feelings about them either way, as long as they didn’t claw him or eat his food.

Remus joined them as Hermione and Meghan went to look at the fire-crab in the window. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “We need to have a quick conference.”

“Something wrong?” Aletha asked as Danger drifted over as well.

“Not wrong. I just need a second opinion. Draco’s asked for an advance on his pocket money so that he can buy an owl of his own. I see no real reason not to, unless you think we ought not to reward him so soon after last night.”

“It’s not a reward, exactly,” said Sirius. “It’s not like we’re giving him the money above and beyond what he usually gets. And he’ll have that much less to spend in Hogsmeade.”

“Hogsmeade,” said Danger, frowning. “That we will need to talk about. But later.”

“Agreed,” said Aletha. “On both points. All three, actually – that we need to talk about Hogsmeade, that it can wait until later, and that Draco’s not getting anything special by this. He’s old enough to understand that what he spends now, he can’t later. I think it’s fine.”

“Second?” asked Remus. Sirius stuck up his hand. “All in favor?”

“Aye,” said all four in chorus.

When they left the Magical Menagerie fifteen minutes later, Harry carried Meghan, Hermione Crookshanks, and Draco a male tawny owl in a cage.

“Why do I always get the old stuff?” asked Harry, hoisting Meghan a little higher on his back. “I got the old broomstick, I get the old owl...”

“You wanted to keep Hedwig,” said Draco. “Just like you wanted to keep your Nimbus Two Thousand.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

“The point is, I never get anything new. The next time I need something new, I want something really new. New and special.”

“Like that?” asked Sirius, pointing to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where all four males of the Pack, even Remus, had spent ten minutes staring longingly at the newest broom on the market, the Firebolt, until the females physically removed them from the premises.

“Yes. The next time I get a broom, I want a Firebolt.”

“The next time you get a broom, you’ll probably be buying it for yourself,” said Aletha. “At which point you’ll be perfectly free to buy a Firebolt.”

“But what if I need a new broom while I’m in school?”

Remus laughed. “All right, Harry. If you need a new broom while you’re in school – and that’s need, not want, and destroying your old one on purpose doesn’t count – we’ll get you a Firebolt. Pack honor. Happy?”

“Very.” Harry grinned. “Now all I have to do is think up ways to smash my broomstick without it looking like it was me.”

xXxXx

Sirius closeted himself with Harry and Draco for nearly an hour after dinner. No one was ever told what went on in the bedroom during that time, but all three participants emerged looking vaguely disgusted and a little shocked. Harry was occasionally heard muttering, “I really didn’t need to know that.”

Sirius reported to the other Pack-adults that he had fulfilled his fatherly duty, and someone else could bloody well do it the next time. Danger and Aletha told him that wouldn’t be a problem.

xXxXx

“So,” said Remus at lunch the next day, the Pride safely out of the way in the boys’ bedroom upstairs, working on their Animagus spells. “Hogsmeade.”

“Yes.” Aletha sighed. “Damn it, they’re normal thirteen-year-olds. They love adventure, and anything new, and they hate being different. They’re going to want to go. But it’s not safe.”

“Not for any of them,” said Danger, peeling an apple. “You could get Harry or Draco to do just about anything if you threatened Hermione. Mind you, as soon as you weren’t actively threatening her, your life wouldn’t be worth a tin Knut. But it’s still a danger.”

“What about Ron, then?” said Sirius, arranging his crisps in a pattern around the edge of his plate. “I know Arthur and Molly mean to let him go. And you could get at Harry just as easily through Ron as through Hermione. Draco, too, for that matter – he’s not as close to Ron as Harry is, but he’s already proved that he has a very high sense of responsibility.”

“You know,” said Remus, turning from the window where he was looking out at the partly overcast day, “there might be a way to let the cubs go to Hogsmeade safely. If there was someone with them. One of their teachers, perhaps.”

“Are you volunteering?” asked Aletha.

Remus looked disingenuous. “I suppose I am.”

Sirius threw a crisp at him. Remus shot a tiny fireball at it from his finger. It was ashes in an instant. Remus blew a not-so-imaginary puff of smoke off his finger and smiled smugly.

“Catch,” said Danger from the counter. She tossed a small piece of apple peel toward Remus, who caught it in his mouth.

“There’s something wrong with you,” said Sirius. “You’ll waste a perfectly good crisp burning it up, but apple skin, you’ll eat.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking apple peel better than crisps.”

“Enough,” said Aletha. “Remus, are you sure you won’t mind escorting them around Hogsmeade?”

“I’m sure. They may mind, but if we explain that it’s be escorted or don’t go, I think they’ll come around.”

xXxXx

Aurors had been unable to get anything from the cave other than what Danger had discovered herself – that Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew had both been there, and then left. Several searches of the area turned up nothing.

“Of course, that doesn’t mean anything,” Sirius told the other three adults late at night, after making certain the cubs were asleep. “They could still be hiding anywhere around there, just moving to avoid the searches.”

“Well, they won’t get onto Hogwarts grounds,” said Remus positively. “Dumbledore’s tightened up the wards until not even a rat could slip through. And I’ll put alarm spells on the secret passages myself. Nothing will come in through them without my knowing about it.”

“There’s something else you need to know about,” said Sirius darkly. “Some of the higher-ups think Hogwarts needs what they call one more layer of security.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?” asked Danger rhetorically.

“They want to put dementors around the school.”

“Dementors?” Aletha sounded as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s ridiculous. Dumbledore wouldn’t allow dementors within a mile of the school.”

“He may not have a choice,” said Remus. “He’s the ultimate authority on school grounds, but past those gates, he doesn’t have anything. The Ministry can post dementors all around the grounds, and the only thing Dumbledore can do is protest it.”

“Well, I hope he does protest it,” said Danger. “Early, and often. And I hope they listen to him.”

xXxXx

“You know, we’re going to have a hard time getting everyone into one compartment,” said Harry, surveying the space available aboard the Hogwarts Express. “We might have to split up.”

“Hmm.” Remus frowned. “Hold on a minute.” He turned and climbed off the train, weaving through students and parents until he got to Sirius. “Do you think that spell we put on that one compartment might still be active?” he asked.

“Spell... oh, yeah.” Sirius grinned. “Why don’t we have a look?”

The two Marauders walked up and down the train, tapping their wands idly against each doorframe. Sirius said hello to quite a lot of students, many of whom were disappointed he and Aletha hadn’t returned. He took the opportunity to introduce Remus, and usually added something like, “And he knows more about Defense than I do.”

“You don’t have to keep saying that,” said Remus between groups.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“You’re the Auror around here.”

Sirius snorted. “Being able to throw up a good block and pick people off at a hundred yards doesn’t mean I know a lot about Defense. You’re smarter than me, always have been, and you’ll make a better teacher. I needed Letha there to keep me from losing my temper when the kids got rude or distracted. You’ll do fine on your own.”

Remus didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, at that moment, Sirius tapped his wand twice against the corner of a doorframe and was rewarded with a two-toned chime. “Got it!”

“Excuse me, ladies,” said Remus, looking into the compartment, which contained some rather giggly second-year Hufflepuff girls. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to move. There’s a compartment a few cars down where you can go. We’ll move your luggage for you.”

The girls hurried out into the hall and followed Sirius, who was floating three trunks at once, all chattering at him.

“You were really good, Professor Black.”

“I was sad when you got Petrified.”

“Is it true our new teacher is a vampire?”

Remus nearly choked when he heard this.

“No, that’s not true,” said Sirius, setting down the trunks by the compartment Harry and Draco had provisionally claimed and waving them out. “Your new Defense teacher is Professor Lupin, and he’s standing right behind you.”

The girls turned as one to look at Remus, who made sure to pass through a large patch of sunlight coming through one of the windows as they did. “Hello,” he said, setting down the two trunks he was carrying. “I hope we’ll enjoy this year together.”

The girls might have answered, but Harry and Draco came out of the compartment at this moment, and Remus saw every one of the girls’ eyes go big and round before they started whispering to each other. Harry hoisted one end of his trunk in one hand, lifted Hedwig’s cage in the other, and set off down the car without a backward glance. Draco followed his brother, pulling his own trunk and carrying the owl he’d named Morpheus for its tendency to sleep all day long, his cheeks pinking up and an expression of grim endurance set on his face.

“I’ll go with the boys,” Remus said quietly to Sirius. “Send in the others when you see them, and bring the other trunks down when you have a minute?”

“Will do.”

Remus hurried after his Pack-sons and caught up with them two compartments before the special one. “It’s going to be like first year all over again, isn’t it?” asked Harry. “People pointing and whispering?”

“Probably.” Remus wished there was something else he could say, but he knew anything he tried to tell them at this point would just make matters worse.

“They’ll get tired of it,” said Draco with the hearty and confident tone he used when trying to convince himself of things. “They always do.”

“True.” Remus opened the door of the compartment and ushered the boys in. “Welcome to the Marauders’ special compartment,” he said, shutting the door.

“How is it special?” asked Harry, looking around with a slight frown.

Remus pointed his wand at the ceiling. “Molesti sunt Dei, ” he said carefully, hoping he’d recalled the correct trigger phrase.

Harry’s mouth hung open and Draco stared as the compartment suddenly grew in several directions, becoming twice as wide and nearly half again as long as it had been.

“We didn’t care for being cramped,” said Remus, putting his wand away. “It took three years’ worth of train rides, but we managed to get these spells in place just in time for seventh year. And now, you reap the fruits of our labor.”

“Wow,” Harry said.

Draco lay down on one of the benches. “I could get used to this,” he said, sliding his arms above his head. His fingertips just brushed the wall on one side as his toes touched it on the other.

Ron pulled the door open. “Mr. Padfoot said you were down here...” His voice trailed off as he surveyed the splendor of space before him. “I call window seat.”

“How’d you get it so big?” said Ginny from behind him, pulling her trunk in.

“Magic,” said Remus, helping her stow the trunk under one of the seats.

“I knew that. What kind?”

“Probably spells like Dad has on the car,” said Ron. “Right?”

“Basically. I should probably check to make sure they’re still functioning right, the last thing we need is for them to die halfway to Hogwarts and try to fit us all into the actual space there is here.” Remus stepped out into the corridor and started the process that would tell him about the state of the spells.

“’Scuse me,” said Draco, sliding past him. “Need the loo.”

“Me too,” said Harry, following him.

“Better now than later,” said Remus absently, then lost himself in his work.

xXxXx

Danger jumped as the train whistled. “Bother, it’s getting late, I should get on board – go on, girls, on with you,” she said to Hermione and Meghan, who hugged Aletha once more each, then climbed aboard, Hermione carrying Crookshanks in his wicker basket. “Goodbye, Letha, best of luck with the program...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” said Aletha, hugging her. “I passed the tests, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did. They’ll be lucky to get you. Write when you can.”

“I will. Take care of Meghan.”

“We will. Goodbye, Molly, I’ll see you at Christmas if not sooner.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do with myself without all these children around,” said Molly, shaking her head. “I might actually find some time to do things I enjoy. Heavens, what a strange thought!”

All three women laughed. The train whistled again.

“Have a good year, Danger,” called Molly as Danger leapt onto the train steps. “And write to me straight away if the twins make trouble for you, they won’t listen to a word Percy says, Head Boy or not...”

“I will!” Danger waved out the door until the train rounded the corner, blowing a kiss to Sirius as he jumped off at another door, then climbed the steps and went to find Remus and the Pride.

She opened the door to the next car and stared. A tall, skinny, blond boy was backed into the wall of the hallway, staring fearfully at Harry, who had his wand out and trained on the boy’s upturned nose. Draco stood beside Harry, looking as though he weren’t sure whether to be angry or ashamed. Harry was unabashedly furious. The strange boy looked scared out of his wits.

Danger cleared her throat. All three boys jumped. “Mr. Potter,” she said, giving Harry the most teacher-ish look she could conjure up on short notice. “Detention for threatening a fellow student.” We’ll talk later, she signed on seeing the rebellious look on Harry’s face. “Return to your compartment. Mr. Black, you as well.”

“Yes, Professor,” said Draco, and beat a hasty retreat down the car, Harry following more slowly, still looking mutinous.

“Just a moment, young man,” said Danger to the strange boy, who was also trying to sneak away. “What’s your name?”

“Smith. Zacharias Smith. Hufflepuff.”

Danger nodded. “Why did Mr. Potter have his wand out on you, Mr. Smith?”

“I don’t know, Professor.”

“Don’t you?”

“No. I don’t.” Smith’s tone was just shy of openly contemptuous. Clearly, he had decided she wasn’t anyone to respect.

“Very well. Pardon me.” Danger squeezed past the boy and continued down the car, conscious of his eyes on her back.

She opened the door to the compartment Remus had directed her to and blinked. “Well, this is an improvement,” she said, entering and sitting down. “I was wondering how we were all going to fit in, with ten of us.”

Harry looked as though he’d burst if he didn’t get to speak soon.

“Something wrong?” Remus asked him mildly, as Danger filled him in on the hallway incident in a quick thought transfer.

Harry made a few strangled noises before he was able to speak. “He deserves detention, not me!”

“Harry, please don’t,” said Draco. “Just drop it, it’s not important.”

“Hell yes, it’s important! You heard what he said!”

“So we’ll get him back for it. But we don’t have to tattle about it.”

“Telling your professors the truth hardly counts as tattling,” said Danger. “And I would like to know what I walked in on the end of.”

“We were coming back from the toilet,” said Harry, still looking murderous. “And we passed Smith in the hallway.”

Draco turned to look out the window, as though the passing countryside were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Draco bumped into him and said excuse me,” continued Harry, “and Smith said, ‘Excuse you for what? Going to let your dad in the castle so he can murder us all, Malfoy?’”

Hermione gasped. Ron snorted angrily. Ginny’s eyes narrowed with rage. Luna put down her copy of The Quibbler. “Where is he sitting?” she asked.

“Who, Smith?” asked Harry.

“Yes. Where is he sitting?”

“Why do you want to know?” asked Danger.

“Because I want to go hit him.”

“That’s not a good idea,” said Remus.

“He was rude. He needs to be hit.”

“No,” said Draco, turning back from the window. “Hitting him wouldn’t work right, Luna. He’d just get mad back at us. We need some way to get back at him without him knowing it was us. Maybe one of those creatures you were telling me about last week.”

“Which one?”

“The one that looks like a shell that you can hear the ocean in, but when you put it to your ear, it bites you and hangs on for three days, so you have to walk around everywhere with a shell stuck to your ear.”

“Oh, you mean a Nisiree. Yes, that would be funny, if we sent him one by owl post, and he put it up to his ear and it bit him...” Luna giggled. “He’d dance all around the Great Hall yelling. Nisiree bites really hurt.”

“Or we could put itch-a-bod flowers in his bed,” suggested Neville, sitting down beside Luna. “Their petals make most people really itchy. They don’t bother me, though. And I know Professor Sprout has some in greenhouse four.”

“No, even better,” said Ron. “Stick them in his drawers. And I mean that both ways.”

“You’re mean,” said Hermione as the boys snickered.

“You didn’t know that?”

“Of course I knew it. Everyone knows it.”

“So why’d you say it, then?”

And they’re off, said Remus.

A friendly debate never hurt anyone.

I didn’t say it did. But what you ran across in the corridor... that does have potential to hurt.

True. If Smith thinks he can get away with that sort of thing...

I’ll have a word with Pomona when we get there. I don’t want people thinking they can insult Draco and get away with it. The last thing he needs is more trouble in his life.

Danger sighed. And unfortunately, it’s the thing he’s most likely to get.

The Pride eventually got tired of talking about ways to get back at Smith and moved into discussion of the upcoming year, pestering Remus and Danger with questions about what Defense Against the Dark Arts would be like and speculating on the contents of the other classes. The older five told Ginny and Luna, often in contradictory and garbled terms, about second year classes, and Meghan listened to everything carefully.

She is going to be the most prepared Hogwarts student there ever was, said Danger. If they’d allow such a thing, she might even test out of a year and move up to second year classes her first year there...

I doubt it. She’ll be busy enough working in the hospital wing. Now that she has a wand, Poppy’s going to be treating her as a full apprentice, even more so since she’ll be a student next year and won’t be able to spend all her time on Healing. I doubt she’ll have time to learn anything extra.

She can try.

The lunch cart came around at one o’clock. Crookshanks chased Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans all over the floor of the compartment, amusing everyone immensely, and Morpheus and Hedwig woke up long enough to accept some crumbled Cauldron Cake before going back to sleep. Neville had some flies in a little package for Trevor.

Games of wizard chess, Go Fish, and Exploding Snap came out as the afternoon went on. Danger dug a novel and her knitting out of her bag and charmed the book to float in the air in front of her and turn the page when she told it to, so that she could read and knit at the same time. Remus had his quill out and was making notes on a long scroll, frowning thoughtfully between scribbling things down on it.

It had been raining for some time when the train began to slow down. Hermione dropped her Go Fish cards. “Quick, everyone get your robes on! We must have lost track of time, we’re nearly there!”

“Hold on a moment,” said Remus, raising a hand. “No one panic.” He flicked a spell into place to hold the two owls’ cages on the upper luggage rack just as the train stopped with a jerk which would otherwise have tumbled them out onto Harry and Ron’s heads.

“Thanks for that,” said Ron, looking up at Hedwig’s cage, leaning precariously against the bonds of the spell.

“Anytime,” said Remus.

Ginny, closest to the door, got up and peered out. “I don’t see anything unusual,” she said. “Just a lot of people looking around – oh!”

The lights had just gone out.

“Everyone stay put,” ordered Danger. “We don’t need you tripping over each other’s feet.”

She felt an odd sensation, akin to having cold water drip down the back of her neck. Remus had just had a realization he didn’t like. What is it?

I think I know what may be going on here.

What?

I’ll tell you in a minute.

Danger growled under her breath as Remus conjured a handful of flames, lighting the compartment. Ginny was back in her seat, looking pale and worried, as did everyone.

The door of the compartment slid open. Crookshanks backed away from it, hissing. Danger looked and felt her stomach turn over. A tall, hooded figure, all in black, with its hand still on the doorframe – a hand which looked slimy and grey, like something which had decayed underwater...

A wave of chill swept over her, and darkness obliterated the light of Remus’ fire. She heard faint cries behind her, but they were overridden by a sudden scream, a scream she could not only hear but feel, because it was her own voice screaming, her own pain and anger and disbelief that her world could have been so suddenly ended, swept away with no warning and no regard for her...

Danger!

No, she whispered, ignoring the voice. Mum, Dad, no... please, not them, they can’t be dead... why not me? I’m not important, no one needs me that much...

That’s not true, said the voice firmly. I need you. Come back.

Come back? I wanted my mum and dad to come back...

I know you did, but they couldn’t. You can. You have cubs of your own now. They need you. I need you, to help them so I can send this thing away. Come back now.

You’ll send it away?

If you help me. I need you to come back first. Then I can send it away.

A spot of light appeared in the darkness surrounding her, light which she hurried toward. Fire, it was the light of a fire, strong and bright, and as she approached it, she felt an answering burning in her own soul –

And suddenly she was in a dark and cold train compartment again. I’m back, she told Remus.

Good. Remus had his wand out and was facing down the dementor. Take care of them. I need all my attention to get a good Patronus.

Danger conjured a handful of flames of her own and turned to the Pride.

Harry was lying on the floor, glasses askew. He seemed to have fainted. Meghan was on Neville’s lap, Ginny and Hermione clinging to Ron, one on each side. Luna was leaning back against the seat, eyes shut. Draco was pressed into the corner, his eyes wide in terror and just that bit unfocused which made Danger think he wasn’t seeing the compartment.

I might get through to him. I doubt I could help Harry at the moment. We’ll deal with him when this thing goes away.

She stood up and crossed to Draco, pulling him to his feet. He whimpered but didn’t fight her. “Hush, little fox,” she whispered, sending the flames to hover over their heads so that she had both arms free to embrace him. “Everything is all right now. Come back to me. Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. It’s not real.”

Draco shuddered all over and stared at her. “Are you real?”

“As real as you are,” Danger told him, stroking his hair out of his eyes. The compartment was beginning to warm up again, and the unreasoning panic in the back of her mind was easing. “As real as you are.”

Draco hugged her hard and held on. “Was that a dementor?”

“Yes. It was. But now it’s gone. Will you be all right?”

“I don’t know. I think so.” Draco looked around. “Luna!” He let go of Danger and shook the blonde girl urgently. “Luna, wake up!”

“I’m awake,” said Luna faintly. “Don’t bother me. I’m listening.”

Thus freed, Danger glanced around. Neville was holding tightly to Meghan, his eyes squeezed shut. It looked like he was concentrating hard on something. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were all very pale and shivering, but seemed to be comforting one another sufficiently. That left Harry.

Danger knelt beside him and touched his hand. It was cold, as though he’d been outdoors without a cloak or gloves, and his face was damp with sweat. Danger pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and began to wipe his face, humming as she did. It was a melody she’d learned from Aletha, one of her Pack-sister’s original compositions, written for a tiny boy with his father’s hair and his mother’s eyes. Aletha had sung it to Harry the night Danger and Remus stole him from the Dursleys, and many times since then.

If he can hear me, he’ll know it’s safe to come back.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, and he moaned quietly. “How is he?” asked Remus, looking over Danger’s shoulder.

“I think he’s coming around.” Danger shook Harry gently by the shoulder. “Harry, wake up. It’s all right.”

The train began to move again with a jerk as the lights came back on. Hermione let go of Ron as if he were red-hot and scooted hastily down the seat. Crookshanks leapt up beside her and into her lap, where he began to purr so loudly Danger could hear it across the compartment. Neville peeled Meghan off his shoulder, revealing a large wet patch where her face had been. Luna opened her eyes and blinked several times, looking more owlish than ever.

Remus pulled the trunk he and Danger shared out from under the seat and opened it, digging around in it until he found two or three large bars of chocolate. “Here,” he said, handing them to Ginny, who was closest. “Everyone gets some. I’ll be right back.” He headed out of the compartment and up the corridor.

Ginny began snapping the chocolate into pieces and handing it around. Danger shook Harry again. “Wake up, Harry,” she said. “Come on, time to get up.” She submitted to a slightly evil urge. “You’re going to be late for Quidditch practice.”

Harry’s eyelids shot open. Ron gave a shaky chuckle, and two or three other people managed weak grins.

Harry looked around the compartment, slowly pushing himself up to a sitting position with trembling hands. “That was a dementor,” he said. “Wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Danger took a piece of chocolate from Ginny and handed it to Harry. “Eat that.”

Harry stared at it a moment as though he’d forgotten how to eat, then lifted it to his mouth and took a bite. Danger took a piece for herself, and sucked on the lump she bit off rather than chewing it, savoring the rich, sweet flavor and the soft, creamy texture.

“You do need to get changed now, everyone,” she said as Remus murmured information into the back of her mind. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. Is everyone all right?”

“Define your terms,” muttered Draco.

“Will everyone be able to walk to the carriages, endure a ride to the school, pay at least nominal attention to the Sorting, eat supper, listen to announcements, and get to bed without falling over on the way there?”

Danger’s dry recitation of what they’d be required to do elicited a few more wobbly smiles and even a hesitant laugh or two. Harry pulled himself up onto the seat with Ron’s help, took another bite of his chocolate, and looked around the compartment, meeting everyone’s eyes before looking back at Danger. “I think we can do that,” he said.

“Excellent.”





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 6: Feasts, Fights, and Feathers (Year 3)


Chapter 6: Feasts, Fights, and Feathers

Thestral-drawn carriages bumped their way towards the school, each with a cargo of students on board. Harry leaned back against the cushioned seat, his eyes shut, trying not to think about what he’d heard on the train. He knew that dementors forced people to relive their worst memories. What he didn’t know was how far back those memories went. Could he really have heard...

No. I don’t want to think about it.

Another reason to have his eyes shut was so that he didn’t have to look at the rest of the Pride, at least the half of it crammed into the carriage with him. He was certain that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all looking at him, and that the only thing keeping them from asking him questions was the fact that he was assiduously ignoring them.

Finally, when he couldn’t stand the sounds of whispering and tapping any longer, he opened one eye just a slit. Hermione and Ginny had their heads together and were poring over a book Hermione had produced from inside her cloak. Ron was looking at the opposite wall of the carriage, over the girls’ heads, and drumming his hands on his knees in a complicated rhythm cadence Harry thought he recognized, but wasn’t sure.

Feeling relieved, Harry shifted to look out the window. The carriage was coming up the road outside Hogwarts now, he could see the stone gateposts –

And the black-hooded dementors standing guard, one on either side of the gate. Harry shut his eyes again quickly and tried to think of something happy, anything to combat the sick chill that was starting to build in his stomach.

“Dinner,” he heard Ron muttering. “We’ll have dinner when we get to the castle. Chops and potatoes and ham and chicken and carrots and peas...”

“And then pudding,” Ginny answered from across the carriage. “I want ice cream and chocolate cake.”

“Apple pie for me,” said Hermione. “And hot spiced pumpkin juice to go with it.”

The sick feeling was ebbing, whether from the carriage passing the dementors or from his friends’ chatter Harry couldn’t tell. He was grateful to them twice over, though, for distracting him without making it too obvious what they were doing. “I hope they have shepherd’s pie,” he said, opening his eyes. “And pumpkin tart after. Did anyone see how many first years there are this year?”

“Didn’t look like too many,” said Ron. “Maybe the Sorting’ll go fast. Hope it does, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” said Hermione. “Anyone would think your mum never feeds you.”

Ginny looked over at Harry and rolled her eyes. Harry shrugged slightly and offered her a small smile as Ron and Hermione continued to bicker.

Finally the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the great stone steps of Hogwarts castle, and the occupants of the carriage got out. Ron was about to go up the steps when Hermione snagged a fold of his cloak. “Wait for the others,” she hissed at him.

The next carriage rumbled up stopped, and Meghan leapt out, followed by Luna. Neville climbed down and offered Draco his hand, but the blond boy waved it away politely, sliding out of the coach without assistance. Draco’s face was still paler than usual, Harry saw, and he stood still a moment before stepping away from the carriage, which moved hastily away when he was clear of it.

“Hello, Harry,” said an excited voice beside him. Harry turned.

“Hello, Colin,” he said to a small Gryffindor second year, who was dancing up and down in place.

“Did you see the dementor, Harry?” asked Colin breathlessly. “It came right into our compartment – one of the girls screamed, and I felt cold and sick all over – did it come into your compartment?”

“Yes,” said Harry as Moony and Danger climbed out of their carriage, which had been next in line. “But Professor Lupin chased it out.”

“Who’s Professor Lupin?”

“I’m Professor Lupin,” said Moony, stepping up beside Harry. “I’ll be teaching Defense this year. You must be Colin Creevey, Harry’s told me about you.”

Colin’s eyes widened even more than usual at the thought that Harry Potter had told someone about him. “Really, sir? He – he did?”

“Inside,” muttered Danger, shooing the Pride in front of her. “Come on, the sooner we’re in the sooner you lot can sit down.”

Sitting down sounded good to Harry. He hadn’t realized his knees were still wobbly. He climbed the stairs as quickly as he could so as not to make it obvious to anyone that he didn’t feel too well, then followed the crowd of students into the Great Hall and found seats along the Gryffindor table for himself, Ron, Neville, and Draco – the girls had split off and were sliding into places along the other side of the long House table.

“You all right now?” Draco asked Harry under the noise of several hundred students reunited after two months of separation.

“Fine. You?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Oi, Harry!” called Seamus Finnegan from down the table. “A dementor come in your compartment at all?”

“Yeah,” Harry called back. “Yours?”

Seamus nodded. “Nasty things,” he said with conviction. “What’re they doing here, anyway? What would Lucius Malfoy want at Hogwarts?”

“Who knows,” said Harry with as careless a shrug as he could manage on short notice. “How’s your summer?”

“Fine. Yours?”

“Not too bad. We had a lot of fun playing capture-the-flag and team sneak attacks and things like that.”

“All right for some,” said Seamus, making a face. “I’m the only wizard for miles where I live, and Mum won’t let me Floo by myself, so I can’t go visiting unless she comes along.”

Harry made a sympathetic noise and would have replied, but Ron poked him. “First years,” he said under his breath.

Professor McGonagall led a line of white-faced, slightly damp eleven-year-olds up the center aisle of the Great Hall. Harry felt a little sorry for them – why was Sorting such a big mystery, anyway, he wondered? Maybe it was just that it was a tradition to keep it mysterious. But they wouldn’t be scared too much longer.

Professor McGonagall produced stool and Sorting Hat, set them down in front of the first years, and stepped away. Harry grinned to see the first years’ open mouths as the Hat opened its own mouth, or rip, and began to sing.

Well, I declare! Upon my soul!

(If soul a hat can own.)

Each year I sit upon my stool

Like king upon his throne,

And welcome into Hogwarts School

A crop of students new,

And every year those students have

The options facing you.

Will you end up in Hufflepuff,

Where workers all belong,

And loyal hearts and true are sent

When finished is my song?

Perhaps you’ll be a Gryffindor,

And wander in the land,

Impressing all and charming some

With brave deeds of your hand.

Or if you love to think and ponder

Rather than to roam,

Then you would rather Ravenclaw

Became your school years’ home.

But if you think in crooked paths

And aim for power high,

Then Slytherin is quite the place,

So give it now a try.

I listen well to what you say,

And what you leave unsaid,

So I shall Sort you rightly here;

There is no need for dread.

You must advance and try me on,

So summon up your heart –

For all of you must Sorted be

Before the feast can start!

Even the first years laughed at this, and joined in the applause offered by the rest of the school. Professor McGonagall stepped forward with her list and began to read names. Harry watched with half his attention, applauding when a new Gryffindor was chosen, joining Ron in surreptitious boos every time the Hat shouted “SLYTHERIN!”

When the Sorting was finished and Professor McGonagall had removed the Hat and the stool, Professor Dumbledore stood up, gaining everyone’s attention. “A new year at Hogwarts,” he said. “A new crop of students, a few new faces here at the High Table, and one important and quite serious announcement which I beg your indulgence to hear before the feast begins.”

“He never does announcements before the feast,” whispered Hermione. “What’s going on?”

“As you are all by now aware, Hogwarts is at the moment being guarded by dementors, who normally guard the prison of Azkaban but some of whom have been asked to come here by the Ministry of Magic. All entrances and exits of Hogwarts grounds are being watched, and I wish to make it entirely clear that no student is to leave these grounds for any reason without permission. Dementors are not fooled by common tricks or disguises, or even uncommon ones such as Invisibility Cloaks, and they will not heed excuses, no matter how clever.”

“I wonder who he’s talking to?” murmured Draco, his eyes lingering on Fred and George.

“I would be loath to have to inform any of your families that you ran afoul of a dementor. I will, of course, be relying on the prefects, the Head Boy and Girl, and the teachers to help protect you, but you will defend yourselves best by staying within the school and grounds, where dementors are not permitted to come. If any students are found straying too close to the dementors, punishments for the survivors will be quite severe.”

Harry saw Ron gulp. He wasn’t surprised. Dumbledore didn’t usually exaggerate.

“Now, some happier news,” said Dumbledore after a moment to allow his words to sink in. “Two new teachers have joined us this year, and one whom you all know but will be seeing in a different place. First, Professor Remus Lupin, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Moony bowed in acknowledgement of the polite applause.

“Professor Gertrude Granger-Lupin, an adjunct teacher of Muggle Studies.”

Danger inclined her head.

“And finally, I am sorry to report that our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Kettleburn, tendered his retirement over the summer. In his place, however, I am delighted to announce the appointment of our own Rubeus Hagrid.”

Hermione and Meghan squealed together as the Great Hall, the Gryffindor table more than any other, exploded into applause. “That explains the biting book!” shouted Ron, laughing and pumping his fist in the air. Harry stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, when he could stop grinning long enough to do it.

Hagrid was bright red under his whiskers, staring at the table but unable to completely hide his huge grin. Danger, sitting next to him, passed him a handkerchief, which looked absurdly small in his hand. He wiped his eyes with it as the clapping died down, then offered it back to her, but she refused, telling him to keep it, and no wonder, Harry thought. It was completely saturated.

“It is always a pleasure to hear enthusiasm,” said Dumbledore when the Hall was quiet again. “So in order to hear it again, I say – let us eat!”

There was another round of applause, this one brief, as people needed their hands for other things than clapping, like serving themselves and wielding knives and forks. It seemed exposure to a dementor, among other things, made people hungry afterwards.

“It uses up a lot of energy to be scared,” said Hermione when Harry pointed this out. “Your body gets ready to run away or fight whatever it is that’s scaring you.”

“Ron must be scared all the time, then,” quipped Draco, prompting Ron to fling a forkful of sweet potato at him. Draco retaliated with a forkful of his mashed potatoes, and the rest of the Pride was just about to join in when a small burst of flame in the center of the table startled them all.

Guiltily, Harry put down a spoonful of peas and looked up at the High Table. Danger was staring at them, and when she saw she had their attention, shook her head firmly. Then she displayed a hand-sign, one which made Harry chuckle.

Later.

“Is she saying we can have a food fight later?” asked Meghan.

“I think so,” said Ginny. “Maybe in private.”

“Den-night, anyone?” said Ron, wiping mashed potato off his sleeve. “Food fight in the kitchen?”

“Only if you convince the house-elves to clean it up,” said Harry. “Or do it yourselves.”

“Yourselves?” repeated Draco. “As if you’re not going to be part of it.”

“Well, it wasn’t my idea, and it’s my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen? Since when?”

“Since I’m the only one who uses it.”

“You are not.”

“Am too, Mr. I-burned-a-salad.”

“That was an accident! And croutons are supposed to be crunchy!”

“Yes, but setting them on fire with your wand wasn’t the best way to get them crunchy, was it?” said Hermione.

“I didn’t mean to set them on fire! I just wanted to heat them up!”

At last, dessert faded from the golden plates and Dumbledore announced bedtime. The Pride hurried up to the High Table to congratulate Hagrid on his new appointment.

“I’ll be relyin’ on Meghan ter patch me up if I make any mistakes,” he said, beaming at them all. “An’ I’ve got yeh older ones – all of yeh – in my firs’ class! Monday after lunch, don’ be late!”

“Don’t worry, we won’t,” said Harry. “We’ll see you then, Professor.”

Hagrid nodded hard, dabbing at his eyes with Danger’s handkerchief. Danger herself and Professor Sprout had vanished through a side door with Zacharias Smith in tow. Moony was talking with Professor Snape, or listening to him, rather –

And then suddenly Professor Snape was staggering back, clutching his jaw, and Moony was shaking out his hand as though he’d punched something hard. Which he had.

“He just hit him,” whispered Hermione incredulously. “Moony just hit Snape!”

Snape appeared more than ready to return the favor, but Dumbledore stepped between the two wizards and held up his hand. “Gentlemen, please,” he said politely. “I think we should discuss this in my office. Come with me.”

Snape and Moony followed him out of the Great Hall, each glowering at the other.

Ron shook his head. “It’s not fair,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

xXxXx

“My father works at the Daily Prophet ,” admitted Zacharias Smith, squirming under Professor Sprout’s eye. “They got a letter there saying that Draco Black had run away. I thought maybe he’d gone to try to find his father, especially because the letter made a big point of his being born Draco Malfoy.”

“That letter was a fake,” said Danger, clenching her teeth between sentences. “The Prophet was informed of that.”

“It’s easy for someone to say it’s a fake,” said Smith sullenly. “Why wouldn’t he want to go find his father?”

“Whether he wanted to or not, whether it was a fake or not, does not excuse what you said in that hallway, Smith,” said Professor Sprout sternly. “You admit that Professor Granger-Lupin has it correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Smith after a poisonous glance at the parchment Professor Sprout held out for his perusal and another at Danger herself. “I said that.”

“Three days’ detention,” said Professor Sprout. “And you’re to apologize to Black in my presence within the week.”

“What?” Smith looked astonished. “Apologize?”

“Yes, apologize. You slandered another student, and he deserves an apology from you. I’m ashamed of you, Smith. Maybe Severus encourages his students to insult their fellows, but I never have. You’re dismissed, and I’ll not have you whining that you were unfairly treated.”

Smith slunk out of the office, glowering.

“Thank you,” said Danger. “Of course, I expected nothing less from the head of Hufflepuff House. Fairness and justice is what you do best.”

“Go along with you, before you turn my head, child,” chided Professor Sprout gently, but she was smiling. “I recall that madcap husband of yours when he was a boy, and if you’re any right match for him, we’re in for a wilder year even than last.”

“We’ll try.” Danger winked at her and slipped out of the Herbology teacher’s office, reopening her mental connection with Remus, which she had closed so as not to bother him with her troubled emotions while she watched Sprout deal with Smith.

She was amazed to find his emotions in as much or more of a tangle than her own had been. What happened to you?

None of your business, said Remus brusquely.

It’s not?

No. It’s not. The connection closed as if he’d slammed a door in her face.

Well, I like that. Danger found her temper rising again. None of my business? It’s not as if I shut you out of what I do! And what do you think I’m going to do, shout at you instead of listening?

“Professor?” said a voice beside her.

She blinked. “Oh, Ginny. Hello.”

“You wouldn’t know why Professor Lupin punched Professor Snape, would you?”

What? “I’m sorry?”

The rest of the Pride seemed to appear out of the shadows of the entrance hall. “It’s true,” said Hermione. “He just hit him. They were talking – well, Professor Snape was talking, and Moony, I mean Professor Lupin, was listening – and then all of a sudden Professor Lupin just hit him.”

Danger shook her head slowly, confused. What in the world could Snape have said to him to make him lose his temper like that?

“Professor?”

Danger came out of her momentary trance, recalling that the Pride was still gathered around her. “Oh, I’m sorry. No, I don’t know what happened. I’m sure the gossip chain will have it soon. To bed with you now, and no sneaking around where everyone can see you.”

The Pride shared secret grins. “Yes, ma’am,” said Harry. He made a signal to Neville, then turned and led the way up the stairs. The rest of the Pride followed, and as Danger watched them, they seemed to blur under her eyes, becoming, if not entirely invisible, hard to see. When she looked away, then tried to look back at the place she knew they should be, her eyes slid away from them, refusing to acknowledge that they were there.

She chuckled. Literalists. At least they won’t get in trouble for being out of bed.

And speaking of bed…

May I ask where you are? she sent flatly, keeping her emotions out of it as much as she could.

I’m on my way to the Defense teacher’s quarters. The response was as dry and bland as her query had been. You?

In the entrance hall, on my way up.

Fine. The connection closed abruptly once more.

Oh, Remus. Why did you do it?

She wasn’t quite sure yet how to feel. It depended on how much more of their enemy Snape became after this, and to some degree on why Remus had done it.

But just being provoked isn’t enough. Not for an adult wizard, not in public, and not when he’s supposed to be your colleague. And especially not for a teacher. We have to set a good example, and brawling in public does not count!

By the time she reached her new quarters, her emotional state had settled into annoyance verging on anger. Our first day – no, not even our first day – and you have to go and pull a stunt like this! Keep this up, and I’ll start thinking Sirius isn’t the only one with bone where his brains ought to be!

The door opened before she could touch it. “Don’t even start,” Remus warned her, stepping back to let her in, his eyes icy blue with only the barest touch of brown.

“Why not?”

“Because I already know what you feel about this.”

“Don’t start telling me I’m broadcasting again. I closed off against you when you did against me.”

“I’m sure you did. But even if I can’t hear you, I can feel you, and you’re mad at me, aren’t you? Angry because I hit Snivellus?”

Danger stared at her husband. He never called Snape by the disrespectful nickname James Potter and Sirius had used in their Hogwarts days. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

“Harry is not the only one who can be pushed too far.” Remus whirled and shot a ball of flame into the fireplace. “Would you care to hear what exactly put me over the edge?” The wood in the fireplace was crackling as though it had been burning for hours.

“Go ahead,” said Danger, seating herself and preparing to calm a firestorm, should Remus lose his temper completely.

“He inquired how I planned to keep our children safe from the many threats in the world. He reminded me that Lucius Malfoy would likely want Draco, as he put it, ‘undamaged.’ And he suggested that if I were to ‘damage’ him sufficiently, Lucius would leave him alone.”

“What type of damage did he suggest?” Danger suspected she knew, but she wanted to hear Remus say it.

“Do I really need to tell you that?” Another fireball followed the first, incinerating the wood entirely and leaving a pile of ash. “He suggested that I bite Draco. He dared to suggest that it would be the truly fatherly thing to do, to curse my own son and ruin his life as mine was ruined! I should have thrown him through the wall, not just hit him!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!” Danger was on her feet, appalled. “I can’t believe I’m hearing you right! I thought you were beyond this sort of thing, Remus! You know perfectly well Snape spews poison as easily as he breathes – I would have thought you’d laugh it off, or turn it around on him to make him look like the idiot he is! You can’t go around hitting everyone who says something rude to you!”

“Laugh it off? Let him say that to my face? What kind of man do you think I am?”

“A civilized one, I’d thought!”

“Civilized?” Remus made a sound which might have been a laugh, if it hadn’t been so angry. “Tame, you mean. Coming to your call, submitting to your every whim. No, thank you. You may be in it more than I’d like, but I do still have a mind of my own! I’m not so much of a tame werewolf as all that!”

Danger stared at him, open-mouthed. “How in the world did you come up with that? I’ve never wanted you to be like that! I was trying to be helpful, and you’ve taken everything I said the wrong way! Well, fine, then! If you hate me that much, I’ll just take myself out of your sight!”

“You do that!”

“Fine!” Danger crossed the room in three strides to the entrance to the private quarters, then whirled for a parting shot. “And you can sleep on the couch!”

She slammed the door shut behind her.

xXxXx

Remus threw himself down on the couch, his anger having ceased to blaze with the slam of the door, but now smoldering.

That was incredibly stupid of me. Alienating her the night before a full moon. I don’t think she would refuse to come to me, but she could certainly keep me in suspense about it.

Why are we suddenly fighting so much? We survived an entire year at home together, without anyone else around, and we almost never fought then. Maybe it’s just the stress that’s making her so unreasonable.

I’ll leave her alone for tonight. She’ll come around eventually. And if she doesn’t...

Well, there’s always the Shrieking Shack.

Suddenly exhausted, he drew his wand and put the lights out with it. Enough. I need sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be more survivable.

xXxXx

The Lupins’ coolness towards one another the next morning at breakfast was notable. Severus’ open disdain for them both, of course, was nothing new, but it was unusual to see the two of them acknowledging each other with polite nods and nothing more. Dumbledore hoped they had not fought, but had to admit they probably had.

I wish I had not had to speak to Remus in that way. But I cannot have teachers fighting physically, nor publicly. I hope he knows that I also had a sharp word with Severus, letting him know that sort of language is entirely unacceptable.

And I hope I have not done true damage, considering what happens tonight.

He sighed, turning his mind away from such considerations. I do what I must, to keep the school running smoothly. If that involves angering a man whom, in other circumstances, I am proud to consider a friend, so be it. Here, he is my subordinate and Severus’ colleague, and we must all abide by the rules.

The usual flock of morning post owls soared into the Great Hall as Dumbledore took another piece of toast.

If there is one thing my long life has taught me, it is that all will be well in time.

Or, if not well, at least tolerable.

xXxXx

He wished he could put off opening the letter, but the eagle owl was sitting on the table eyeing him, and he knew it would peck him if he didn’t open it right away.

Sullenly, he ripped the seal off the parchment.

I will accept no quibbles. You are of an age to understand that lying is sometimes necessary. Do as you are told, or find yourself a new name and family.

Your instructions, then, are to do what you can to stir up trouble for him. The worse people think of him, the better. I would prefer that you not break laws, but if you must, do so quietly.

xXxXx

“How was Divination?” Harry asked Ron as the red-haired boy slid into the seat Hermione had saved for him.

Ron groaned. “Awful. Your parents were right, the teacher’s a freak. She wears these ugly specs that make her eyes look ten times bigger than they should be, and enough shawls for fifteen grandmothers, and she spent the whole class talking about how she can tell when people are going to die, and she feels the vibrations of death over the castle, enough for two people, ones we all know but not anyone present...”

“She said something about hair of raven and flax,” said Neville, turning around in his seat the row ahead. “And tragedy of lives blighted so young.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

“People are so stupid,” said Hermione witheringly. “Everyone knows Divination’s a load of rubbish.”

“Not all of it,” put in Draco. “There are some true Seers. Like Danger, with her dreams.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t ask for them. They just happen. I don’t think anyone can just sit down and say, ‘I want to see what’s going to happen next,’ and have it actually work.”

“Right now I know what’s going to happen next,” said Ron.

“You do not.”

“Do so. McGonagall’s about to yell at us.”

“If we may begin,” said Professor McGonagall sternly from the front of the classroom.

Hermione snorted but refrained from further comment.

The lesson that day, to the Pride’s amusement, was Animagi. McGonagall gave them a look warning them not to show any superior knowledge on the subject, so they held their comments to a minimum, but it was hard, especially when Lavender Brown kept mispronouncing it “Ani-maggie.”

xXxXx

“Did Professor Granger-Lupin and Professor Lupin have a fight?” asked Luna at lunch, looking at the High Table.

“They don’t usually fight,” said Hermione. “But they are being rather cold to each other. Maybe they just had a disagreement.”

“Disagreement,” said Draco, as though he were reading the dictionary. “Noun. Hermione Granger-Lupin-ese for fight. See also altercation, discussion, debate.”

Hermione hit him with her Arithmancy book.

xXxXx

After lunch, they started down to Hagrid’s. “I wonder what magical creatures we’ll start with,” said Hermione as they walked. “Maybe nifflers or mokes, they’re native to Britain, and not too difficult to handle. Or knarls, or crups or kneazles.”

“You don’t need lessons on how to handle a kneazle,” said Harry. “You do just fine with Crookshanks.”

“He’s not a kneazle, though. He can’t be. He’s built wrong for it.”

“But he looks a little like one,” said Ron. “And he seems smarter than just a cat. Maybe he’s half kneazle.”

Draco, looking ahead, gave a loud groan. “Hell.”

The others looked where he was pointing and groaned themselves. “Slytherins,” said Neville. “Why did it have to be Slytherins?”

“Who knows,” said Harry. “Don’t bother them, and they won’t bother us.”

“And if you believe that, I’ve got a self-spelling wand to sell you,” muttered Ron.

Hagrid was waiting outside his house for the class, Fang beside him, checking off names on a parchment scroll with a quill as long as Harry’s arm. “Right then!” he called out as the Pride approached, rolling up the scroll. “Everyone’s here, so let’s get a move on! Follow me!”

He led them around the edge of the Forest to an empty paddock built of stone. “Now, then, yeh’ll need ter open yer books – yeh all know ter stroke ‘em?”

Most of the class nodded. There were a few blank faces, but two of them were Crabbe and Goyle. And they always look blank. Harry bit down on a snicker.

“Right, well, those who know, yeh show those who don’t. Find page two hundred eighty-three, an’ I’ll go an’ get the magical creatures we’ll be studyin’ today.” Hagrid strode off into the Forest.

Page two hundred eighty-three, when found, proved to be none of the creatures Hermione had listed before class. Harry stared at the careful ink drawing of a creature with the back half of a horse and the front half of an eagle, which pranced and reared on the page.

“Hippogriffs?” said Draco, reading a few lines rapidly. “But they’re really hard to handle – it says here only experts should try it unless they’re already tame...”

“So maybe these are already tame,” suggested Neville in a voice which shook a little. “Maybe they’re used to people.”

“If they were used to people, Hagrid probably wouldn’t have them on chains like that,” said Ron in a tone of dread.

Everyone turned to look. The chains Hagrid held in his hand were indeed stout, and the leather collars around the hippogriffs’ necks sturdy, but the hippogriffs themselves were what attracted the eye. Their feathers and fur coats were the same color all over, and seemed to be based more on horse coloration than eagle. Their talons and beaks looked quite deadly, and Harry knew from experience that wings that size could strike hard if they needed to. He’d seen Letha bowl Padfoot over more than once, not to mention the night she’d battered down the Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour.

“Now listen sharp,” said Hagrid, wrapping the chains around a hook on the fence. “Mos’ important thing abou’ hippogriffs is, they’re proud beasts. Take offense like that.” He snapped his fingers ringingly, making two or three of the hippogriffs prance in place. “Don’t never insult a hippogriff. Might just be the last thing yeh ever do.”

Most of the class backed up several steps at this.

“Don’t start like that,” said Hagrid impatiently. “They won’ hurt yeh if yer polite to ‘em. Yeh walk forward, keep eye contact, don’ blink too much – they won’ trust yeh if yeh do – an’ then yeh bow. If he bows, then yeh can touch him. If not, then yeh get away from him right quick, wait a minute or two, an’ try again. So who’ll go first?”

Harry looked around. Neville seemed to be seriously considering turning himself invisible. Hermione was frowning, running her hand along the spine of her Monster Book , which was making a sound a lot like a purr. Ron was rocking back and forth on his feet, staring at the hippogriffs. Draco was watching Theodore Nott, who had been whispering with Crabbe and Goyle all through Hagrid’s talk, out of the corner of his eye.

Harry took a step forward. “I’ll do it, Hagrid,” he said.

“That’s the way, Harry!” said Hagrid happily. “Here, let’s start yeh off with Buckbeak!”

He uncollared the gray hippogriff and clucked to it, drawing it away from the others. “Make eye contact, an’ try not ter blink,” he instructed Harry quietly. “Then come forward an’ bow.”

Harry met fierce orange eyes, swallowed hard instead of blinking, and bowed to Buckbeak as Padfoot had taught them pureblood boys bowed to their elders. He took advantage of being down to shut his eyes for a moment, then looked back up. Buckbeak was still staring at him arrogantly.

“Back away, Harry,” said Hagrid, sounding a little worried for the first time. “Slowly, now...”

But even as Hagrid spoke, the hippogriff bent its bird-like legs and lowered its front half in an unmistakable bow.

“Right, then!” said Hagrid, grinning all over his face. “Go on, Harry, he’ll let yeh touch him now! He likes his beak patted, right where it joins his face, go ahead!”

Harry would have liked backing away better, but he’d come this far. He stepped closer to Buckbeak, who was now watching him in a more friendly way, and stretched out his hand, laying it on the enormous beak and patting it several times. When he stopped, Buckbeak made a low crooning sound in his throat and blinked appealingly at him. Harry smiled and patted the beak a few more times as the class applauded him.

“Yeh know, Harry,” said Hagrid speculatively, “he migh’ even let yeh ride him. How’d yeh like that, eh?”

Harry didn’t quite know what to say, but Hagrid saved him the trouble. “Ah, I know yeh love flyin’. So climb right up there – behind the wing, like – an’ don’ go pullin’ out any feathers, hippogriffs don’ like pain...”

Don’t like experiencing it, but I bet they like causing it, Harry thought dizzily. He stepped onto Buckbeak’s wing and pulled himself onto the hippogriff’s back. Where do I hold on?

“Round his neck,” said Hagrid in a business-like tone. “Gee up!” He slapped Buckbeak’s hindquarters.

Buckbeak screeched and opened his wings, each easily twelve feet long. Harry seized hold of Buckbeak’s neck and held on as the hippogriff pumped its wings for altitude. It was like riding Letha in her horse form, except that the feathers made it harder to hold on. Harry had to use all his experience from broomstick flying to keep his balance without hurting his mount.

Still, he was enjoying it, and half-hoped Buckbeak would take a long flight, but the hippogriff showed no inclination to go outside the paddock, flying around it once before heading for the ground. Harry leaned back, praying he didn’t go sliding off over Buckbeak’s head, and just managed to stay astride as two hooved and two taloned feet struck the ground. The class cheered as Harry slid off Buckbeak and stood beside him for a moment with one hand on his back before walking to the fence.

“What were you doing standing there, posing for a Chocolate Frog card?” Draco asked as the rest of the class climbed into the paddock.

“Trying not to show everyone how badly my knees are shaking,” said Harry, collapsing on the stone fence. “You go give it a try.”

Draco approached Buckbeak and bowed to him. Buckbeak bowed back, and Draco moved up and patted his beak. Ron and Hermione had a chestnut hippogriff to themselves. Neville was scooting backwards from a red roan.

“You’re a handsome boy, you are,” said Draco, turning as Buckbeak danced a little, then sliding his hand under the hippogriff’s facial feathers and scratching. Buckbeak closed his eyes, crooning softly. “I knew if Harry could do this, it couldn’t be too hard, and it’s not – you’re just like Hagrid, you only look big and mean, isn’t that right?”

“Where are you hanging out tonight again?” inquired Harry.

Draco stopped scratching Buckbeak to turn to him and use both hands to make a rude gesture, complete with a smacking sound.

Suddenly, Buckbeak screamed, rearing up. Draco staggered back a pace, shielding his head with an arm, but he was still within range of those wicked talons – Harry dived at him, knocking him to the ground, as Buckbeak swiped viciously at where Draco had been just a moment before, catching a clawful of Harry’s robes. Harry heard the cloth rip.

He hit the ground hard and yelped as pain shot up his arm. There was blood seeping out through the tears Buckbeak’s talons had made – it seemed cloth wasn’t the only thing they’d caught.

“Harry! Draco!” Hagrid rushed over from collaring Buckbeak and bent over the boys anxiously. “Are yeh all right?”

“Fine,” said Draco, sitting up. “A little winded is all. Harry saved me from worse – I don’t even know what I did. I don’t think I was insulting.”

“Maybe he thought you meant him,” said Harry, cradling his arm. “When you... you know.”

“Maybe.” Draco peered at his arm. “Is that bad?”

“Yer bleedin’,” said Hagrid, his face white. “Gotta get yeh ter the hospital wing...”

“I’ll be fine,” said Harry. “I’ve been hurt worse playing Quidditch.”

“You’re not kidding,” muttered Draco.

“I can go up to the hospital wing myself,” said Harry, trying to fend off Hagrid’s attempts to pick him up like an oversized baby. “You don’t need to stop class just for me.” Class had stopped, though, he noticed, since everyone was now gathered around staring at him. He made sure to give Hermione and Ron the proper signal that he was all right.

“Yer sure?”

“Some of us can go with him,” said Draco. “Just to make sure.”

Hagrid sighed. “All right.” He looked around and noticed Neville, still jogging backwards around the paddock as his hippogriff stalked him. “Here, stop that,” he said severely to the roan, grabbing its collar. “Neville, go on up ter the hospital wing with Harry an’ Draco, make sure they get there all right.”

“Yes, Professor,” panted Neville, gratefully climbing out of the paddock.

xXxXx

“Can’t you stay out of trouble for one day?” asked Meghan in a tone which Harry was positive she’d learned from Danger.

“No,” answered Draco for him. “Never.”

“I didn’t ask you.” Meghan flicked her fingers at him, spattering him with the salve she was using on Harry’s cuts. “Does that feel better?”

“Much,” said Harry, smiling at her. “It doesn’t hurt at all now.”

“All right, let’s see if you can do it, Meghan,” said Madam Pomfrey, coming over to the bed.

“Do what?” asked Neville.

Meghan produced her wand. “Madam Pomfrey taught me a healing spell,” she said. “I may not be very good at it yet, Harry, so tell me if anything hurts or doesn’t feel right.”

Harry nodded, and Meghan touched her wand to the first of the three shallow gashes on his arm. “Sanatio ,” she said firmly.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Harry saw new skin beginning to form over the cut, and within a moment or two, it looked as if he’d hurt his arm several days before, instead of just a few minutes.

“Very good,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Mr. Potter?”

“It felt just like when you do it,” said Harry truthfully. Madam Pomfrey had patched him up several times before, and the sensation he’d felt was a slowed-down version of her quick healing spell. “Only slower.”

“Well, that’s only to be expected, Meghan’s young yet – but not many could do this spell so young, I’ll tell you that.”

“Has anyone else ever learned it before they even started school?” asked Neville.

“Not that I can think of offhand, Mr. Longbottom.”

Neville winked at Meghan, who beamed. “Shall I do the others?” she asked.

“Yes, go ahead, and now that you know you can do it, try it a little faster.”

Meghan nodded eagerly and bent over her work.

A few moments later, when Madam Pomfrey was putting the finishing touches on Harry’s healing, hurried footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Danger came running into the hospital wing. “Hippogriffs?” she asked Draco, whom Madam Pomfrey had pronounced “perfectly all right, if a bit dirty.”

Draco nodded. “I messed up,” he admitted, “but Harry got hurt for it.”

“Don’t make it a pattern,” Danger said, untying his cloak strings as she passed. “Harry?”

“It was just a couple of cuts,” protested Harry. “I got worse every day at home.”

Madam Pomfrey looked highly disapproving. Danger laughed. “What a wonderful household you must think we are,” she said. “But you know boys. They will wrestle, and climb trees and fly on their brooms, no matter what we tell them, and their fathers are no help, they just encourage them.”

Harry stifled a laugh at the look on Moony’s face. His Pack-father had appeared in the doorway just in time to hear the end of this.

“So true,” said Madam Pomfrey with a sigh. “Oh, Professor Lupin, I didn’t see you.”

Danger stiffened and turned. “Professor,” she said politely.

“Professor,” answered Moony.

Draco had turned around, probably so the Pack-parents wouldn’t see him laughing, Harry thought. Meghan whispered something to Neville which made him grin.

Moony’s eyes went to Harry. “You’re all right?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Draco?”

“I wasn’t hurt at all.”

“Good. Professor Granger-Lupin, would you mind coming with me? I think we have something we need to discuss.”

“I think we do,” said Danger. “Madam Pomfrey. Meghan. Boys.”

They left the hospital wing together.

“They looked like a dog and a cat,” said Draco, staring after them.

“Which?” asked Meghan.

“What?”

“Which of them was the dog and which the cat?”

“How should I know?”

“You thought it up,” said Neville in a reasonable tone.

“Oh, shut up. We should get back, class won’t be over for another half-hour at least...”

xXxXx

Danger perched on a desk as Remus shut the door of the classroom behind them. I’ll say it fast and get it over with. It hurts less that way.

Remus turned to face her.

“I’m sorry,” said Danger quickly.

Remus frowned. “You’re not supposed to say that.”

“What?”

“It isn’t fair.”

Danger stared at Remus for a moment, then began to smile. Her dignified love was pouting and kicking at the floor like a small boy. “What isn’t fair?”

“I wanted to apologize first.”

Danger laughed aloud.

“It isn’t funny either,” protested Remus, but he was smiling too. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. You were right. It was stupid of me to hit Snape.

Stupid, yes, but awfully nice to think about. Did I mention half the reason I was mad was because I was jealous?

You were jealous? How do you think Sirius will feel?

Danger laughed again. It didn’t feel right, being at odds with you. It was like being angry at a part of myself. She frowned. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Me seeing you as part of me, not as yourself?

No, not really. I was angry, I was just saying that to try to hurt you.

But you had a point. Neither of us is just part of the other. We’re two separate people... well, not as separate as we once were, but I’m not you, and you’re not me.

Remus shook his head, slowly. I think it’s a combination, he said. We are part of each other now. We belong to each other. And the only reason that it’s anything more than slavery or infatuation is that the belonging goes both ways. You belong to me exactly as much as I belong to you, and vice versa. In good conscience, I can only ask you to do something for me if I’d be willing to do the same for you.

Danger slid off her desk and crossed the room to him. You know all you ever have to do is ask.

All right, I’m asking. Forgive me for what I said, and don’t ever let me do anything that stupid again.

Only if you’ll forgive me for what I said, and promise never to hit Snape again...

Finish that sentence.

Unless I’m there to watch.

That’s more like it.

The embrace was no less glorious for being inevitable.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 7: Look to the Future (Year 3)


Chapter 7: Look to the Future

“Hermione?”

“Yes?” Hermione looked up from her book. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were both standing beside her chair, looking very solemn.

“We wanted to tell you something,” said Parvati. “Something important. Without anyone else around.”

“It’s about something Professor Trelawney told us in Divination today,” added Lavender, sitting down in a chair near Hermione’s.

Hermione restrained a snort and only nodded.

“She said that a teacher and a student who had the same name would suffer great tragedy this year,” said Parvati, sitting in the chair next to Lavender’s. “And you’re the only student with the same name as a professor right now.”

“We thought we should tell you.” Lavender’s face was anxious. “Maybe knowing it could help you avoid it.”

“Er, thank you,” said Hermione, fighting not to let herself laugh. “That’s very kind.”

“Are they your parents?” asked Lavender. “Professor Lupin and Professor Granger-Lupin, I mean. You look a lot like them. Professor Granger-Lupin, especially.”

Why is it any of your business? “Well, they’re not my parents, exactly. I don’t remember my real parents.”

“You don’t?” Parvati was leaning forward, entranced. “Why not?”

“They... died. When I was only a baby.” Both girls’ eyes were boring into Hermione now, making her feel horribly like a freak on display.

“Then what’s Professor Granger-Lupin to you?” asked Lavender, looking baffled.

“She’s my older sister. She married Professor Lupin not too long after our parents died.” And the worst of it is, they don’t mean to do it. They’re just curious, they can’t know how it feels to me...

“However did you end up living in the same house as Harry Potter and Draco Black, then?” asked Parvati. “An older sister taking care of a younger one, I can understand, but how did they get mixed up in it?”

“It’s... complicated.” Hermione stood up abruptly. “Excuse me, I have to... brush Crookshanks. He always gets burrs in his tail, and they drive him mad, and then he bites them out and leaves them on my pillow, I really have to get to him before he does that...”

Babbling, she made her escape up the girls’ stairs and into the quiet of the dormitory, where she collapsed on her bed. Crookshanks, without a trace of a burr anywhere on him, leapt up on the bed, nuzzled her face, and began to purr.

“Why do they think they’re entitled to know everything about my life and my Pack?” she asked Crookshanks. “Why can’t they just leave me alone?”

In a funny way, I almost wish they were worse. Then I could cry and get it over with. As it is, I don’t even know what I feel, so I have no way to release it, and it just keeps piling up and getting worse...

“Hermione?” Meghan appeared at the door of the dormitory. “Parvati and Lavender said you were up here. Are you coming?”

“Coming where?”

“Den-night, silly. Remember?”

“Oh.” Hermione looked out the window at the gathering dusk. “Right.”

“So pull your curtains and come on. Neville’s whispered us all invisible already, no one’s going to see us.”

Hermione pulled her bedcurtains shut, got her pajamas from her wardrobe, and followed Meghan down the stairs, Crookshanks at her heels. To Hermione’s surprise, the cat leapt into the tube with her, ensconcing himself in her lap.

Harry used to bring Siss. There’s no reason I can’t bring Crookshanks.

“Thank you, Godric,” she said, shutting the tube behind her, and pushed off. Halfway down, it occurred to her that Crookshanks might not care for the end of the ride. A sudden drop onto a bed was fine if you knew it was coming, but not if you didn’t...

“We’re going to fall in a minute,” she told the cat. “But it’s all right, we won’t get hurt – please don’t claw me, there’s no reason to. Don’t cats always land on their feet, anyway?”

The floor of the tube vanished beneath them. Hermione crossed her hands over her stomach just in time, as she landed on the bed and sixteen pounds of yowling ginger cat landed on her. Before she could do more than try to get back the breath that had been knocked out of her by the double impact, Crookshanks rocketed off her to the top of the chest of drawers, where he began to furiously wash a paw.

“Well, I did try to tell you,” said Hermione, standing up. Crookshanks ignored her with injured dignity.

“’Lo, Neenie,” Harry greeted her as she came through the door of the red bedroom. Hermione made a face at him, but no more – it was her den name, after all, and to tell the truth, it didn’t bother her as it once had. She might not even mind if the Pride sometimes called her by it in public.

A quick look around confirmed that she was the last one in. She set her pajamas in a corner and dropped down beside Ginny, who was lying on her stomach on the padded floor, scowling at a book. “Homework?” she asked.

Ginny nodded. “I used to think the first day of the year would be the easiest,” she said. “If this is the easiest, I don’t want to know what the rest of the year is going to be like.”

Hermione peered over her friend’s shoulder. “Oh, I remember that lesson. It’s not too hard, once you get the trick. Do you have your wand with you?”

Ginny produced it.

“Show me how you’re doing the movement.”

Ginny obliged. Hermione watched critically. “That’s almost right, but you’re twisting your wrist too much. It should only be about a quarter-turn. Here.” She pulled out her own wand. “Watch me.”

Her bad mood had vanished without her even noticing.

xXxXx

Around eight o’clock, a loud crack signaled the arrival of several house-elves with mugs of hot chocolate and plates and bowls of treats for the denners. Ron reached eagerly for an éclair. Kady smacked his wrist sharply. “Bad,” she scolded. “Sir knows he must be in his pajamas before he eats his bedtime snack.”

Ron groaned. “Do I have a big sign on me that says ‘Boss Me Around’?” he demanded of the rest of the Pride. “Don’t answer that,” he added, seeing the grins on the other boys’ faces. “Let’s just get changed.” He picked up his pajamas from their own corner and vanished into the red bedroom. The rest of the Pride split up and found places to change their clothing, and reemerged dressed for bed, to claim their snacks and drinks.

“Little master is not needing to thank the house-elves,” said an elf called Mitsy, wiggling her ears at Neville in embarrassment after he’d accepted a plate of biscuits with thanks. “Hogwarts house-elves is always serving people well, and the people who use this place very well.”

“That’s no surprise, if the Founders made this place for themselves,” said Ginny.

“But we like thanking you,” Hermione told the house-elves. “Do you want to make us happy?”

All the house-elves nodded hard.

“You can make us the most happy by just letting us say thank you, then. All right?”

The house-elves looked around at each other. “All right, miss,” said Kady, who seemed to be the spokes-elf for the group. She took a deep breath. “You is welcome, little sirs and misses. We hopes you is having a good night.”

“You too,” said Harry as the house-elves disappeared all at once with a series of loud bangs.

“Funny little things,” said Ron, seizing the éclair he’d been after earlier.

“Hold on a second,” said Harry, forestalling Ron’s first bite. “We should start first.”

Ron looked disgusted. “I’ll never get to eat at this rate.”

“And we all know what a disaster that would be,” said Draco dryly. “Ron Weasley stops eating, and Britain suddenly suffers an enormous food surplus.”

Neville rescued Ron’s mug of hot chocolate as Ron threw a hard biscuit at Draco.

“Stop it, you two,” said Hermione. “Draco?”

Draco cleared his throat ostentatiously. “Be welcome, all, to this den-night.” He pointedly did not look at Ron. “We are Pride now. Pride together.”

“Pride forever,” answered everyone else.

“Can I eat now ?” asked Ron with forced patience.

xXxXx

Some time later, when the contents of the plates and bowls were nearly gone, Hermione sat up. “Who will tell a story?” she asked. “Who will remind us of what it is to be Pride?” It was the ritual that had formed the heart of den-nights as long as they had existed. Knowing the past was essential to shaping the present and preparing for the future.

“I have a question,” said Luna. “It’s not really a story, but if everyone answers it, it could be.”

“Go on, then,” said Harry.

“What did everyone hear when the dementor came into our compartment?”

There was a long moment of silence. “Luna, that’s not a good idea,” muttered Draco. “No one’s going to want to talk about that...”

“No, she’s right,” said Meghan. “That’s why we have den-night stories, to talk about scary things in a safe place. I’ll go first. If that’s okay,” she added, looking at Harry. He nodded.

Meghan looked at her hands, then lifted her head and set her shoulders. “I heard the day the Pack got arrested, the day before Dadfoot’s trial. When I had to go away from the Den without looking back, and I didn’t know if I would ever see anybody again.”

“Is that why you were crying?” asked Neville.

Meghan nodded. “What did you hear?” she asked him.

“I don’t really know.” Neville closed his eyes, thinking. “It was a lot of shouting and screaming. People shouting, ‘Tell us where he is, tell us where he is!’ and other people screaming, without words. I didn’t understand it.”

Hermione did, but as long as Neville didn’t, or said he didn’t, she wasn’t about to burst out with it, even in-den as they were. It was something that should only be told in private.

“Luna?” Neville said, looking at her. “Your idea. You should go next.”

“The day my mum died,” said Luna, looking grave. “I heard her voice say something, and then a sound like something exploding. It was her bowl, that gave me my scar.” She ran her fingers along it. “But after that I heard something else, something I didn’t remember from before. Someone talking to me, telling me things.”

“Things like what?” asked Ron.

“I don’t remember,” said Luna. “I think I’m only supposed to remember when the time comes. But I had to listen very hard then, so I wouldn’t forget them between now and that time, even though I can’t remember them now.”

This made no sense to Hermione, but then, Luna hardly ever made sense. Especially not now.

Why is she looking at me?

“Hermione?”

Oh. I’m next. “The basilisk,” she said. “I heard Padfoot shout out ‘Conjunctivus Occuli! ’ and then make a funny sound, like he was gasping only it got cut off in the middle – that was when he got Petrified...”

“He got Petrified before you?” asked Draco. “Why didn’t you run away?”

“Because I couldn’t. He was holding me when he got Petrified, so I was caught. And even if I’d gotten loose, the basilisk would have followed me and eaten me. But it wouldn’t eat me if I was Petrified, I thought, so I looked at it.”

“Her,” said Harry.

“Sorry. At her.” There, that’s out. Who should go next? Hermione looked around her friends. “Ginny?”

“Being in the Chamber of Secrets,” said Ginny flatly. “Ron?”

“Waiting in that bathroom for you to come out of the Chamber of Secrets,” said Ron. “With Moaning Myrtle floating around saying things like how she hoped you’d stick around if you died, Harry, and if you didn’t how she was going to go around the castle toilets looking for you. I think she likes you.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “I’ll never go to the loo again,” he said, making everyone laugh.

“So what was yours, then?” asked Ron.

“Mine? Oh, right.” Harry shrugged. “I’m like Neville. I don’t know. It was someone shouting. A woman, I think. But I don’t remember what she said.” He looked over at Draco. “You’re last, fox. What’d you hear?”

“I don’t know either,” said Draco casually. “Someone talking was all.”

“It scared you pretty bad for just someone talking,” said Ron. “If you’d been any farther back in the corner, you’d’ve been outside the train.”

“That’s rich from you, Mr. Scared-of-waiting-in-a-bathroom.”

“Oi, let’s just see how happy you are when it’s your sister’s life we’re talking about!”

“It was my brother’s life that night, too, in case you’ve forgotten!”

Harry let loose a piercing, two-fingered whistle. “Stop it,” he said when everyone had recovered their hearing somewhat. “Den’s not for fighting. And everyone’s had a go now, so let’s do something else. Who’s for Exploding Snap?”

Ron, Neville, Ginny, Meghan, and Luna put their hands up. Harry stood up. “Round table and six chairs, please,” he said to the air. “Draco, Neenie?”

“Not now,” said Draco. “Maybe next game.” He went over to the Quidditch pitch and opened the door. Hermione shook her head at Harry, got up, and followed Draco.

He was leaning against one of the goal posts, staring across the pitch. Hermione looked down as fur brushed her ankles. Crookshanks trotted past her and over to Draco, where he stropped around the boy’s legs, purring. Draco absently bent to stroke him. Hermione shut the door.

“Just someone talking?” she said quietly.

“Not just someone,” said Draco, seemingly to the cat. “My father. I don’t know if you know this, but I dreamed of him in first year, and Danger says it was true. It was really him, we shared the dream. So I know he meant what he said.”

“What did he say?”

“He talked about reclaiming me. Taking me back, and making me his again.” He turned to look at her. “He doesn’t want me dead, Neenie. He wants me alive.”

His eyes were fearful in a way she hadn’t seen for years. She was so used to both her brothers being totally fearless and confident about everything that it took her a moment to find the comparison she wanted. Draco looked now as he had looked when he was very small, at the London Den, and he had just had a nightmare.

And I know those nightmares were all about his father...

“But he won’t get you,” she said, trying to project certainty into her voice. “How could he? Hogwarts is the safest place in the magical world, isn’t it? He can’t Apparate here, and there’s no way he could Floo, not with people all over the country looking for him. Besides, how would he hide inside the school, with all the teachers and ghosts around? Someone would be sure to see him.”

The fear was fading from Draco’s eyes. Hermione pressed onward. “He can’t make a Portkey without a wand, and where would he get one? And not even Wormtail could get onto the grounds with all the wards up, and the dementors. The only people allowed onto Hogwarts grounds are students, teachers, and invited guests, and he isn’t any of those, so he isn’t going to get in. It’s just that simple.”

The fear had been replaced by a much more normal expression for Draco – exasperation. “If there was an award for Most Annoying Logic of the Year, you’d win it,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.” Hermione walked over to him and bent down to pick up Crookshanks. She met Draco’s eyes again as she straightened. “If he does come after you,” she told him, “he’ll have to come through me first.”

“What are you going to do? Throw books at him?” Draco began to laugh. “Or Crookshanks! You could call him to fight for you! Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll eat Wormtail for us!”

Hermione laughed with him, picturing her cat cornering the small, fat, balding man she recalled. “But I do mean it,” she said when she’d caught her breath.

“I know.” Draco gave her a quick scent-touch and a smile, telling her all the things his stupid thirteen-year-old male pride wouldn’t let him say in so many words. Things like “thank you,” and “I love you.”

I should be grateful we have ways he can say them. And that he knows he needs to. If he was like Ron, he wouldn’t even realize that. She watched Draco open the door and head out to the main room. Ron is such an idiot when it comes to emotional things. Ron is such an idiot, generally.

But he’s a nice idiot. And funny. The littlest things make him happy, like one good score on homework or the Quidditch team practicing well. It’s actually cute, the way he’s always hungry, and always a little clueless. And when you know a lot of answers, it’s nice to have someone around who asks a lot of questions...

She shook her head. What is wrong with me? I sound like someone out of Padfoot’s books!

No, it’s worse. I sound like Parvati and Lavender. Eurgh.

She set Crookshanks down. “Ron is my friend,” she told the cat. “My Pride-mate and my friend. Nothing less, but nothing more.”

Crookshanks twisted himself around and began to wash beneath his tail.

xXxXx

In an office elsewhere in the castle, two wolves lay contentedly twisted together.

If there was some way to do it without blowing my cover, this would be a great assignment for some of my students, said Remus. Identify the werewolf and the true wolf, and tell me how you know.

Would you be covering werewolves this early in the year? That’s fairly advanced, isn’t it?

True. We probably wouldn’t get there until sometime in the winter.

After Christmas, you think?

Offhand, yes. Why?

Because we’ll be home for Christmas, and you can get Sirius or Letha to take a picture of us on full moon. Then reproduce it and give the kids that. A good-quality picture ought to give them enough of the pertinent anatomical detail.

I thought you didn’t want anyone else knowing about my pertinent anatomical detail.

Danger’s response to this was non-verbal, consisting first of puzzlement, then the rising heat that meant embarrassment, coupled with the under-the-breath mutter that meant Remus had better watch his back.

He let his tongue hang out of his mouth in a grin, utterly content. My wife is plotting against me. Life is good.

Excuse me. Danger untwined herself. I’m going to go raid my stash. You want anything?

No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.

You’re welcome. Danger trotted into the bedroom. Remus listened to the sounds of her opening their trunk, digging through clothes and books until she came to her own personal store of junk food, separate from his large collection of chocolate, which he had amassed partly for his own consumption and partly when he had heard there was a possibility of dementors around the castle.

Dementors . Nasty things. Good thing it’s not Sirius here this year, he probably would have had a much worse reaction to that dementor on the train than I did... but Letha would have been able to deal with it, they would have been fine...

A sudden bang broke him out of his reverie. Danger!

I’m fine, she answered quickly, and truthfully. There was nothing worse in her mind than shock, no pain or fear. Fine, except... what in the world?

What?

You tell me. Danger, human once more, reappeared in the hallway which led to their bedroom.

Remus stared. His wife’s hair was piled on top of her head in an intricate arrangement, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was darker than it had been. Canine eyes were better for night-sight, but had limitations in the color vision area. Has it changed color? he asked.

Danger hurried to the mirror and squealed in outrage. Hell yes! It’s blue!

Blue?

Blue. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure. More usual color for eyes than for hair. And now I have a blue beehive. How nice.

Your food was pranked?

I have to assume, since this happened as soon as I opened the bag. You didn’t do this?

No, this one isn’t mine. And a prank used to be Sirius’ idea of a fine send-off, but strange as it seems, I think he’s grown out of that. Besides, if he was going to prank anyone, he’d prank me. So that leaves the cubs.

Danger retransformed and shook her wolf-head in distaste at the feeling of the topknot of fur she now wore. Let’s have a sniff.

Remus joined her in the bedroom. Their own scents were clear on the trunk, but there were baffling hints of others, hard to pick out and follow clearly. Finally, though, they both had a verdict.

He must have worn gloves. But he brushed the trunk at some point with his knee or elbow. That’s why we can only get a faint trace.

Is there a magical way to confirm that?

We don’t need one. We just need to handle him the right way, and he’ll confess all by himself.

If you think I’m going to breakfast like this, you’re crazy.

I never said you should go to breakfast like this. I’ll fix it as soon as I can use my wand.

Are you sure you can?

Danger, he’s thirteen. I’m thirty-five. If I can’t undo what he did, I’m obviously not fit to be a teacher here. Remus decided to tease her. You wouldn’t consider coming down for just a little bit like this, to make him happy?

Remus!

I’m joking, love. Back to normal, first thing in the morning.

xXxXx

Neville had just poured milk onto his porridge the next morning when Meghan suddenly pulled the bowl away from him. “What–” he had just time to say before a letter fell precisely where the bowl had been. “Thank you,” he said instead.

“You’re welcome.” Meghan handed back the porridge and returned to her own cereal.

Just as Neville was about to unseal the letter, it caught fire. He yelled and dropped it into his porridge anyway, where it went out with a loud, milky sizzle.

“Danger says wait here,” said Harry, who was looking at the High Table. “I mean, Professor Granger-Lupin says, wait here.”

“And she also says don’t open that yet,” added Hermione.

Neville fished the letter out of his porridge. “I wish she had some other way to tell people things,” he said, wiping it with his napkin.

“That looks really official,” remarked Ron from the other side of the table. “Big seal on it and everything. Does it say where it’s from?”

Neville turned the envelope over in his hands, looking for some indicator.

“Seals sometimes have imprints on them,” said Luna.

Neville looked at the red wax seal. It wasn’t just a blob – it had a form to it. A crossed wand and bone.

Crossed wand and bone...

His heart began to pound. There was only one reason St. Mungo’s Hospital would be sending him a letter. Well, two reasons, but they amounted to the same thing.

Oh no, oh no, please don’t let them be dead...

“Mr. Longbottom.” He jumped and looked up. Professor McGonagall was standing beside him. “Have you had enough to eat?”

“No, ma’am. I haven’t had anything yet.”

“I see. Well, eat quickly, then come to my office.” Neville’s worry must have shown on his face, because Professor McGonagall softened and added, “You’re in no trouble, Longbottom. In fact, this may be good news. But you need to eat first. And I’ll take that.” She plucked the letter out of his hand.

“But it’s mine!”

“In my office, Longbottom.” Professor McGonagall swept away.

“At least it’s good news, not bad,” said Ginny. “Neville, really, you have to eat something, or you’re never going to make it until lunch.”

But Neville’s throat seemed to have closed up. He could barely swallow. After a few spoonfuls of porridge from a new bowlful and a few bites of toast, he jumped up from the table and hurried out of the Great Hall.

He wasn’t surprised to hear quick footsteps behind him, or to find a small hand in his halfway up the marble staircase. As always, she comforted him just by being there – he never asked her to come with him, because he never had to ask. She simply assumed she was welcome to go wherever he did.

And I didn’t have to tell her about my parents. She already knew.

He raised his free hand and knocked on Professor McGonagall’s door.

“Come in!” she called.

Meghan squealed happily when the door was open. “Mama Letha! Dadfoot!” She sprinted across the room to hug her parents.

“Hello,” said Neville, giving the Blacks a small bow and a smile. He liked them – they had been very kind and encouraging to him, first as teachers, then as hosts for the month of July. He was eager to see how Professor Lupin’s classes were different than ones taught by Professors Black and Freeman-Black.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “I should have specified that you were to come alone,” she said, but without rancor. “I suppose she is part of this as well, though.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Mrs. Letha (as Neville had settled on calling her after two weeks of feeling rather silly and out-of-place, addressing an adult by her first name). “We’re just waiting for one other person, Neville, and then we’ll explain this.”

The fire flared green, and the spinning form within it solidified into –

“Gran?” Neville hurried across the room to help his grandmother out of the fireplace.

“I’m all right, stop fussing at me, boy,” she said irritably, brushing soot off her cloak. “Well, Minerva, what in the world is so important that you dragged me away from my breakfast to see?”

“Have you had an owl this morning, Augusta?”

“Yes, actually, but I haven’t opened the letter. I have it here.” His gran produced it from her handbag. “I was wondering where it came from, and what it was all about...”

“That’s what we’re here to explain,” said Mr. Padfoot (which had taken Neville even longer to get used to saying than ‘Mrs. Letha’). “Why don’t we all sit down?”

They all sat, and the discussion began. Within a few moments, Neville started to get excited. There had been a Healer working on a way to help his parents?

Then his hopes were dashed, as Mr. Padfoot revealed that she was dead. He did recall hearing about a Healer dying, being killed, near the end of the summer, but he’d had no idea that it had such a direct meaning for him.

And then Mrs. Letha gave him hope again, all within the space of a minute.

“Apparently, since I’m an older student and I already have some field experience, plus expertise in potion-making, they’ve decided to forgo some of the traditional training in favor of a special project for me,” she said. “I’m going to be working with Andromeda’s notes, seeing what I can decipher of them. As far as I can tell right now, she had the beginnings of something which she thought would work very well, but she never got a chance to finish it or test it. That’s my job right now.”

“And I’m running security for her,” said Mr. Padfoot. “I pointed out to the Auror Office that another Auror would need time off, time to go home and relax. When I’m with Letha, I am home. And I have motivation to protect her that no one else has. Of course, I’m not doing it alone – my partner, Kingsley Shacklebolt, will be helping me out – but still, that’s my main duty for right now.”

Neville felt excitement rising higher and higher in him. Mrs. Letha would be safe, safe as the other Healer – he recalled her faintly from a Christmas party at the Den – had not been safe. That was sad for her and her family, but it meant his family still had a chance...

“But why the fool hospital thought they had to notify a thirteen-year-old of something that’s as far from sure as possible...” grumbled his gran. “Get the boy’s hopes up – what if it doesn’t work?”

“Oh, but I think it will,” said Mrs. Letha, her eyes sliding to Neville and one of them closing ever so briefly. “Andromeda Tonks was a fine Healer. All I need to do is follow where she led, and I have no doubt I’ll be able to succeed.”

“So that’s what’s in this letter, Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall, handing it to him. “Official notification that your parents’ care is being changed, and that there is a possibility – just a possibility, mind – that they might be healed, or substantially improved.”

Neville accepted the letter back. His mind raced. What if it didn’t work? What if it killed them, or made them worse? What if it made them dangerous, so that he could never go to see them again? What if it did work, but they didn’t understand that it had been a long time, and they refused to believe he was their son? What if –

“You’re being silly,” whispered Meghan in his ear. “I can see it on your face.”

“Sorry,” Neville whispered back. Of course, he was being silly. Mrs. Letha was gentle and smart and good with a wand and a cauldron, and she was Meghan’s mum. She would never do anything that would hurt his parents.

Deep in his heart, a tiny hope that had sat there for many years unchanged, except for one brief flare in the winter of his first year at Hogwarts, was suddenly beginning to grow.

xXxXx

Back in the Great Hall, Danger had come down to the Gryffindor table. “You are not to pester Neville,” she said sternly to the Pride, passing one hand over Draco’s pumpkin juice while he wasn’t looking at it. “Or Meghan,” she added, noticing who else was missing. “They’ll tell you what’s going on when they’re ready to, and not before.” Well, I think that’s pretty definite, she added silently.

Even Sirius can’t miss it for much longer. Have you set it?

Yes. I’m coming back now. I just hope he doesn’t drink it quite yet...

Danger’s hope was granted. She had been back at the High Table for nearly a minute before Draco lifted his goblet of pumpkin juice and drained it. His setting the goblet back on the table triggered the spell. There was a sound like a toilet flushing, and as everyone turned to look, his hair twisted into the shape commonly known as a swirly.

Draco sat very still for a moment with his eyes shut. Finally, he opened them. Danger watched him turn to Luna and ask a question, watched her answer, watched him reply to her, then turn to Ron and Harry and say something irritable-sounding which the teachers couldn’t quite hear, but which set most of the Hall laughing uproariously.

“That’ll teach him to prank his elders and betters,” said Remus, grinning at Danger.

They clinked goblets, then drank to success.

xXxXx

“How bad is it?” Draco asked Luna.

She studied his head. “It looks as if someone dipped your head in a toilet and flushed it,” she observed. “Except it’s not wet.”

“That is the point.” Draco whipped around at the sound of strangled laughter and saw Ron and Harry attempting to suffocate themselves with their napkins. “Oh, go on and laugh,” he said crossly. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and one of you will snort bacon through your nose or something.”

It was only when most of the Gryffindor table, and most of the other three Houses, took him at his word that Draco realized just how loudly he’d spoken, and just how quiet the Hall had become when the toilet flush sound effect had occurred. The house-elves could probably fry eggs on his face, he thought.

“What did you do to her?” Harry choked out.

“Blue beehive,” said Draco resignedly. “I put the charm on her snack food bag, geared to the next person who opened it. I guess she found it last night.”

“Haven’t you learned yet not to prank the Pack-parents?” asked Hermione, wiping her eyes. “They always get you back so much better.”

“I didn’t think they’d know it was me! I wore gloves and everything!”

“Obviously, you were wrong,” said Ginny, still snickering. “A magical swirly. I love it.”

“Yeah, well, your crazy brother better watch out, or I’ll give him a non-magical one,” threatened Draco.

“Go ahead and try, runt,” said Ron, getting himself under nominal control, though his lips were still twitching every time he looked at Draco’s hair. “You couldn’t even pick me up, much less turn me upside down.”

“Sure I could.” Draco drew his wand.

“Not in front of the teachers, ” said Harry, Hermione, and Ginny in a three-way chorus.

“Besides, if you use your wand, it isn’t non-magical anymore,” said Ginny.

“What if I use my wand for levitating Ron but a real toilet for the hair bit?”

“Do we hear the word ‘toilet’ in conjunction with our lovely younger brother?” asked a voice behind Draco.

“We’d be delighted to help you out,” said an identical voice.

“There,” said Draco, spreading his hands to indicate the twins. “Now it won’t be magical at all.”

Ron glowered at them.

xXxXx

Draco found Danger after the meal. “I’m sorry I put a charm on your snack food to turn your hair into a blue beehive when you opened it next,” he said all in one breath. “Now will you please take this off me?”

Danger waved her wand in a circle over his head, and his hair collapsed from its cone shape to lie flat again. “Now, are you going to prank my things anymore?” she asked, hands on hips.

“No. Or if I do, I’ll be more careful to make it look like Harry.”

Danger bit her lip. “That will do,” she said. “Go on, get to class. And stick with pranking your Pride from now on.”

xXxXx

After classes were over, the Pride went down to see Hagrid. They found him in the paddock where they’d had class on Monday, tending to the gray hippogriff who had injured Harry. When he saw them coming, though, he quickly tethered the hippogriff and climbed out of the paddock to greet them all, especially Harry.

“Yer sure yer all right?” he asked at least a dozen times.

“Positive,” said Harry each time. “Meghan and Madam Pomfrey fixed it right away.”

Finally, Draco decided to step in. “Hagrid?” he said, distracting the gamekeeper just as he looked to be about to ask Harry the question again. “Could I try over with him? I think I know what I did wrong the first time, and I won’t do it this time.”

“Ah, yeh didn’ do anythin’,” said Hagrid grimly. “Yeh were sabotaged, Draco. I was comin’ up ter the castle after I were done here ter tell yeh.”

“Sabotaged?” Draco frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Look here.” Hagrid leaned over the paddock wall and tugged on the hippogriff’s chain, bringing it closer to him. “Here, on his left flank. Look close, it’s hard ter see...”

The Pride peered through the fur. “Can I touch him?” asked Meghan, and when Hagrid nodded, extended a hand and laid it on the hippogriff’s flank, then gasped. “He’s hurt! There’s a bruise there! Look, right here, it’s like someone hit him!”

Draco looked closer. Sure enough, there was a dark, discolored spot under the gray fur.

“Looks more like a stone bruise ter me,” said Hagrid. “Would’ve bin easy fer anyone in that class, I wasn’ watchin’ yer side – anyone could’ve tossed a rock at him, and they’re smart fer beasts, but not smart enough ter realize yeh couldn’t’ve hurt him from the side if yer standin’ in front’a him – so he assumed yeh’d done it ter him, an’ he reacted like any beast would.”

“Then I want to make it up to him,” said Draco. “Try to show him I’m not really like that. Can I?”

Hagrid frowned. “I dunno... he might have a grudge against yeh... but if yeh really want ter try. Jus’ be ready ter run if he bristles up, like...”

“I will.” Draco climbed into the paddock. Hagrid uncollared the hippogriff – Buckbeak, Draco recalled now, Buckbeak was the creature’s name. Draco made eye contact, then bowed low. Buckbeak screeched and clawed the ground.

“Now, yeh great lump, that’s no way ter treat a friend o’mine,” said Hagrid sternly. “Behave yerself, or it’s back in the collar fer yeh.”

Draco stayed bowed, keeping an eye on Buckbeak’s talons. If they got closer to him, or left his range of vision, he was going to get out of the way fast. He had no desire to repeat Harry’s experience, or to go his brother one better, or in this case one worse.

The talons stayed where they were, flexing. Open, closed, open... and then there was more leg visible than there had been a moment before.

Draco risked a peek and felt his heart lift – Buckbeak had bowed to him.

After he was finished petting the hippogriff, Neville unexpectedly volunteered to try again, and it only took him three tries this time before Buckbeak made a sound like a chortle in his throat and returned Neville’s trembling bow. Of course, Ginny and Luna and Meghan then wanted to try it as well, and Hagrid let them, keeping a close eye on Buckbeak. But the hippogriff behaved himself perfectly well, even preening Meghan’s hair after she used her wand to speed the healing of the bruise on his flank.

“But who would throw a rock at the hippogriff I was working with?” asked Draco while the Pride walked back to Hagrid’s house with him.

Hagrid shook his head. “Dunno. Got any enemies in the class?”

Harry snickered. “You’re kidding, right? We have Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins, Hagrid. Draco once put every one of them in the hospital wing.”

“As if we didn’t have anything to do with it?” interjected Hermione.

Harry acknowledged this. “It’s more like, who’s not our enemy.”

“Could’ve bin anyone, then,” said Hagrid with a sigh as he opened the door of his house and Fang charged out, mad with joy to see the Pride. “Any o’the Slytherins.”

“Yeah.” Draco shrugged. “I’ll just be careful from now on.”

xXxXx

Remus surveyed his class. Third year Gryffindors, perhaps the most difficult class he’d teach, not because the subject matter was too taxing for him, but because of the three students sitting in a row in the back of the classroom. He’d have to be careful not to favor them, but not to be seen exhibiting disfavor to them either – he’d have to treat them like any other student...

How hard can that be?

Hard enough.

“You can put your books away,” he told the class. “And take your wands out. We’re going to have a practical lesson today.” A murmur of excitement greeted this. Apparently almost everyone had enjoyed Sirius and Aletha’s practical lessons. Neville looked a little worried, and shy Colleen Lamb swallowed hard, but everyone else was happily stowing away books, even Hermione.

Damn it, I wish I didn’t have to do this, but I do...

“Mr. Black, may I see you a moment, please?”

Draco hurried to the front of the classroom. “Did I do something?”

“No, but I need to ask you a question, and I need you to answer, even if you don’t want to.”

Draco looked briefly reluctant, then nodded. “All right.”

“What did you hear when the dementor came into our compartment on the train?”

Draco flinched.

“Is it the obvious?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“All right.” Remus made sure his back was to the class. “Fox, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you face the boggart. I know you can beat one – you could beat one in your first year – so that’s not the issue. I’d rather not have Lucius Malfoy materialize in the Hogwarts staffroom, is all. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” muttered Draco.

“Don’t feel too bad. Harry can’t do it either.”

Draco smiled. “Because it would be a lot worse to have Voldemort show up?”

“Precisely. Go cheer each other up.” Remus watched Draco jog back to his place.

And wait until you see what I have in mind...

xXxXx

He sat alone in an empty classroom, alone with his books. Books were more reliable friends than people. Books wouldn’t stab you in the back. Books wouldn’t change when you weren’t looking. And books didn’t die.

Suddenly he heard gales of laughter in the hall. Curious, he went to the door and peered out.

The third year Gryffindors were stumbling along the hallway, all of them laughing as if they’d eaten Alihotsy leaves. His eyes were drawn to a tall, brown-haired girl near the back of the group. She was smiling widely, blushing as red as the Gryffindor shield, and blinking her eyes very hard, all at the same time.

Why have I never seen her before?

“I can’t decide which one was better,” said Harry Potter, stopping to wipe tears of laughter from his eyes, “Neville’s or Colleen’s.”

“I liked them both,” said Draco Black, leaning weakly against the wall. “Snape in that dress...”

He had to cover his mouth to avoid betraying himself. He’d never particularly cared for his Head of House, and thinking of him in a dress was quite amusing.

Of course. They’ve come from Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“But Colleen...” Hermione Granger-Lupin waved to the tall girl. “I’d never imagined seeing all of Slytherin House in their underwear before.”

“I’m not sure I ever wanted to imagine it,” quipped one of the other girls, making them all laugh again.

She fears Slytherins? He took another look at her. She was still smiling, but resisting efforts to draw her forward. She was obviously shy.

My housemates have probably bullied her. Picked on her as the easy mark in Gryffindor. She wouldn’t have been Sorted there if she weren’t brave, though. Maybe her courage is just buried.

He decided right then that he was going to do something about the girl – Colleen – and about her fear of Slytherins. It wasn’t right. No one should fear an entire House because of the actions of a few people.

It didn’t hurt, of course, that she was a pretty girl. But no more than pretty, which was perfectly fine with him.

I do not trust beautiful women. As who would, with a mother like mine?

He returned to his seat, to begin thinking. He would lay his plots carefully, but without malice. He did not want to hurt this girl, this Colleen. He would simply show her that craft and guile did not always have to be used to bad ends.

I wonder what sort of flowers she likes best?





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 8: Hiding and Seeking (Year 3)


Chapter 8: Hiding and Seeking

Harry set down his Potions knife and covered a yawn with his hand before returning to coarsely chopping tulip leaves. He’d been up late the night before, working on his Animagus spells. After nearly a month at Hogwarts, he thought he might be getting close to finishing his list, but he wasn’t yet sure. Moony had promised to look over the Pride’s lists tonight.

He scooped up his tulip leaves in a double handful and walked over to the cauldron. Ron was stirring it constantly, counting under his breath. “...thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty...”

He changed direction, now stirring clockwise instead of counter-clockwise, and Harry began to drop the tulip leaves in, one piece for every count. “One, two, three, four...”

They were working on a Sealing Solution, something Healers used to close wounds that were too large to be healed quickly or had a magical prohibition against it worked into them. A lot of curses and hexes had such a prohibition, to make healing the victim more difficult. Snape had told the class this, with positive pleasure in his voice, and added that there was no point in inflicting damage if it could be healed by any half-trained child with a wand.

It’s not enough to be mean to us. He has to go after Meghan, too, doesn’t he?

Of course, the Sealing Solution’s properties meant they also had to be careful not to get it on themselves. If it got on their eyelids, their eyes would seal shut. If on their hands, their fingers would stick together. And if they got it on their noses or mouths, they had better pray that someone noticed quickly, because otherwise they would suffocate. Snape had enjoyed telling them this more, if anything, than telling them about Dark magic.

And now he’s just waiting for Neville to mess up.

Well, he was going to have a long wait. The Pride was on to him, and they weren’t about to let Snape’s vindictiveness make trouble for one of their own. As soon as they had realized what Snape was doing, they had rearranged partners for today, so that Draco could work with Neville and keep him from suffocating on his own potion fumes.

Of course, he could always start assigning partners. That would make trouble almost certain. Neville’s a million times better than he used to be, but he’s still not ready to work on his own, and he knows it...

The last piece of tulip leaf fell from Harry’s hands into the cauldron. Ron changed stirring directions again and began his count over.

Harry had a quick look around the room. Everything on the Gryffindor side seemed normal – Hermione was coaching Colleen through the final steps of thickening the solution, and Dean was starting to drop his own tulip leaves into the cauldron Seamus was stirring. Neville was scraping aloe vera leaves while Draco watched their solution bubble. Behind them, Lavender and Parvati were carefully sprinkling unicorn fur into their cauldron with Snape eyeing them critically, his back to Harry.

The Slytherins didn’t interest him very much, but he glanced at them anyway, seeing without great interest how they had partnered up, how they were working, what was going on. He was just turning away when a flash of movement caught his eye.

Something was soaring through the air, headed directly for Neville and Draco’s cauldron.

Harry’s hand was in his robes, yanking out his wand – he tracked the thing along a short portion of its arc, then shouted, “Protero ! ” before his brain could catch up with his voice and hand.

His spell struck the falling object straight on, blasting it out of its path and across the classroom, directly towards Snape –

Oh no –

It disappeared under Snape’s robes, and Harry prayed that he’d somehow gotten it wrong, that it wasn’t what it had looked like – he hadn’t seen it for very long, his eyes could have been fooled –

Snape turned, his black eyes glittering menace. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, for doing magic in class without permiss–”

There was an explosion between Snape’s feet. The Potions Master appeared to levitate three feet off the floor as his robes billowed outward in all directions.

Harry gulped. He hadn’t been wrong. The thing in the air had been a lit firework.

I’m going to die.

He was aware of eyes on him – nine pairs of sympathetic, horrified eyes from the Gryffindor side of the room, and nine pairs of gleeful, delighted ones from the Slytherin, as Snape bore down on him, his robes singed and smoking and his face twisted in lines of rage.

xXxXx

“Really, Severus, I think you’re jumping to conclusions,” said Professor McGonagall in her office. “Mr. Potter’s story seems reasonable enough, and if he were responsible for the firework, why on earth would he use a spell which you could hear – which you did hear – to move it towards you, when simply throwing it would have worked as well and left you unaware of his intentions?”

“I refuse to believe that one of my students would be foolish enough to throw a lit firework in class, Minerva,” sneered Snape. “Particularly while working on a potion as potentially dangerous as this one.”

Professor McGonagall was on her feet. “And you believe my students would be so foolish?”

“It is well-established that Gryffindor bravery often includes a certain amount of blindness to consequences–”

“And Slytherin ruthlessness does not?”

“Professors?” said Harry timidly, not sure getting their undivided attention was a good thing, but not knowing what else to do. Both of them turned to glare at him, and he had a sudden wish to sink through the floor.

“What is it, Potter?” asked Professor McGonagall sharply.

“May I go to lunch, please?”

“Go on,” she said dismissively, waving a hand, her attention already back on Snape. “If you are so blind that you cannot see possible misdeeds in your House simply because it is your House...”

Harry shut the office door behind him and headed for the Great Hall gladly. Between two dueling Professors was not his favorite place to be.

xXxXx

At lunch, of course, the rest of the Pride wanted to know what had happened, and what was happening now, and what was likely to happen in the future. The general consensus was that it was a shame they hadn’t thought of slipping a lit firework under Snape’s robes before this, and that it was a fine thing to have happened even by accident. Fred and George were in awe, although they refused to believe Harry hadn’t done it on purpose.

“Don’t worry, we understand,” said Fred in a pacifying tone as Harry tried to explain, for the seventh time, that he didn’t even own any fireworks. “You have to keep up appearances.”

“But we can congratulate you all the same,” said George. “A keen mind you have, young Harry. Genius, to think of using the spell, then claiming you didn’t because it would give you away. Sheer genius.”

“Speaking of genius,” added Fred. “Our beloved Quidditch captain has scheduled our first practice at long last. This Saturday, eight in the morning, though knowing Wood we won’t be on the pitch until ten.”

“What about tryouts?” asked Ginny. “Aren’t you having them this year?”

“Wood doesn’t feel we need them,” said George. “But then, if we hadn’t had them last year, we wouldn’t have had Draco ready to fly when Alicia got ill... we’ll talk to him. You want to fly with us, ickle Ginnikins?”

Ginny bared her teeth. “Call me that again and I’ll hex you. Yes, of course I want to fly with you. I always fly with you at home – why should Hogwarts be any different?”

“I suppose we’re just not used to thinking of you as old enough to play Quidditch,” said George, taken aback. “I mean, real Quidditch, not the pick-up games we have at home. It’s a rough game, Ginny. You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt doing anything,” retorted Ginny. “I’m a good Chaser. I want to play.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to have another reserve player,” said Fred. “You know you might not get into a game for at least a year? It’s Wood’s decision, and then next year whoever’s captain after he leaves school will decide who plays each game.”

“I know. I just want to be part of the team.”

“Well, he can’t stop you coming to practice,” said George. “So do that. Just come along with Harry and Draco and Ron. Saturday at eight.”

xXxXx

Humming under her breath, Aletha opened the freezer and pulled out a foil-wrapped package, peering at the label written in Danger’s semi-tidy handwriting.

Roast beef with potatoes and carrots. Excellent. She turned on the oven and slid the package inside, pulling off the parchment label so it didn’t scorch, then started laying the table. By the time Sirius finished what he was doing upstairs and she was done with her music practice, dinner would be ready.

Reheating is my best cooking skill. And Sirius isn’t even very good at that. That hadn’t mattered during their years in hiding, not with Danger around, and when they’d gone to teach at Hogwarts, they’d eaten in the Great Hall with everyone else. But now Danger was gone, off at Hogwarts herself, and the Blacks were home by themselves.

She didn’t leave us helpless, though. Before she’d left, Danger had made up several dinners’ worth of food and frozen it all in packages the right size for two people to share. The portions might have been considered overly generous by some, but not to anyone who knew how much Sirius could eat once he got started.

Molly’s given us a standing invitation to dinner as well. We try to give her at least a day’s warning before we take her up on it, of course, but that’s always pleasant. There had been friendly argument for years over whether Molly or Danger cooked better. Both women were inclined to give the laurel to the other, but the children of each family defended their mother vigorously. It had never actually come to blows as far as Aletha knew, but she also knew her Pack-sons, and Molly’s brood, and it was almost inevitable that an argument between them would lead to physical violence.

But as long as they don’t seriously injure each other, who cares?

And Danger’s scheduled a day or two every month to come home and replenish our supplies. Along with just visiting, of course. Danger and Remus had been there only two days before, in fact, the previous Sunday, with all the latest news from Hogwarts, like Ginny Weasley joining the Quidditch team as a reserve Chaser, and Severus Snape trying to pin the burgling of his office on the cubs, until Remus worked a spell proving none of them had been anywhere near there. In return, Sirius and Aletha had shared the news from the Ministry and St. Mungo’s.

Ministry news is almost uniformly bad. There’s still been no sign of Malfoy or Wormtail. It’s as if they don’t exist. But then there’s my news, which is exactly the opposite – my work’s going very well. Andromeda was so careful about note-taking. Thank heaven the forensic Aurors were able to clean up her notes, and thank heaven whoever killed her didn’t have time to burn them or steal them. Though I would have preferred losing the notes and saving her...

Aletha’s throat tightened. Part of the bad news from the Ministry involved Tonks, who was moving through her apprenticeship at a rate that frightened some of her instructors. She seemed to have sealed off her grief for her mother, or to be expressing it only in violence towards the targets and objectives on the courses the apprentices were set.

I hope she doesn’t think she’ll be put on the case when she’s qualified. Not even Sirius is allowed, and he’s far more distantly related than she is. But I suppose this is something she can do, to make up for all she can’t...

At least she’s not alone. Charlie Weasley had gotten a transfer to one of the dragon preserves in Wales, and he and Tonks were sharing a flat in London, since with Apparition and the well-maintained British Floo network he didn’t exactly have to live on top of his work. He wasn’t there all the time, since the dragon keepers took it in turns to be “on call” at the preserve, ready to respond to an emergency at any time, but when he wasn’t, Tonks could either work late herself or stay with her father.

Ted Tonks had come out of his private grief and was back at work. He, too, was living in a flat in London now, slowly going through the home he had shared with Andromeda and boxing things up, some to keep, some to sell, some to give away. When he was finished, he planned to sell the house.

I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Sirius like that. If that was me, looking through what was left of our lives together, choosing what to keep and what to discard, cleaning out the Den to get it ready for someone else to live here...

But it wouldn’t be like that for me. Even if I lost Sirius, I have Remus and Danger still. They’d be there with me, to help me through the worst of it. I might still leave here, but I wouldn’t do it alone.

Thank God for the Pack.

Aletha’s thoughts cycled back to the work she was doing, the work Andromeda had begun, which was going so well. She did all the preliminary things, determining the ingredients it will need, even what order to add them in. All I have to do is figure out proportions.

The only problem is, this looks like a long-term potion, something that needs a month or more to brew, and that’s not a problem exactly, just an inconvenience, and a nuisance. The childish part of me wants answers now. Am I doing this right? Will I be able to help Frank and Alice, finally, after all this time?

And what will happen if I do?

Even if she could actually bring the Longbottoms back from madness, would it be right, or kind, of her to do so? Their last coherent memories were twelve years old. They knew nothing of what had happened between now and then. Neville, to them, would still be a baby barely able to talk. They would never have met Danger, and would recall Remus wrapped in grief, Aletha likewise, and Sirius –

That could be a problem. We’ll have to make sure he’s nowhere around until we can explain things to them. As far as the Longbottoms had known when they had been attacked, Sirius had been the traitor who was responsible for James and Lily Potter’s deaths. Seeing him as a respectable (more or less) member of society, a husband and father, might take some work on their part. And when they found out how Neville and Meghan seemed to feel about each other...

Aletha laughed. Aren’t I thinking far ahead, then! Assuming I can do this, assuming it’s going to work, and worrying about explaining things to them! Stop borrowing trouble, Letha, you have enough as it is.

For as flippant as Sirius might be about his “light duty” bodyguarding her, the truth was that the last Healer who had worked on this project had been murdered. There was no telling if it had been this her killer was after, but there had been no sign that any other notes had been destroyed, altered, or removed.

Though if they’d been removed thoroughly enough, how would we know?

She shook her head. Enough of that. Time for music.

She sat down at the piano, shaking her hands to loosen the muscles, and listened absently to the clacking coming from upstairs.

Isn’t it funny that we both have hobbies that require pressing down keys?

xXxXx

The door of her office crashed open. Athena looked up, feigning shock and offense. “How dare you barge in here that way?” she demanded. “Who are you?”

Of course, she knew him. Everyone knew Marcus Thovine. But asking the question would throw him off balance for the few moments that were all she would need.

“I – I–” Thovine stammered.

Athena rose, staring at him with her best angry-elder look. “I assume you have a name?”

“I – yes, of course I do!”

“Then I suggest you tell it to me immediately, so that I may inform the police who it is that I wish escorted from my office.”

“Police?” sputtered Thovine. “Why? I’ve broken no law, I’m perfectly within my rights–”

“You are uninvited and unwelcome here, young man, and unless you are one of my students, which I highly doubt, you have no business with me. Unless...” This would have to be played perfectly if it was to work at all. “Unless you have come for this?” She slid open her desk drawer and held up the small item she had found in the girls’ dressing room two nights before with her left hand, letting her right remain in the drawer.

Thovine went dead white. “I – I’ve never seen that before,” he blustered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about – but I do have business with you. I want to see one of your students. The Collins girl, Agnes Collins. I have reason to believe she stole something valuable from me–”

“Poppycock,” said Athena bluntly. “Mr. Thovine, you are becoming not only unwelcome but boring. Remove yourself immediately, or I shall be forced to send for the police.”

“You’ll send for no one, you old bag!” Thovine’s hand went to his pocket.

“Sirius!” called Aletha’s voice from downstairs. “Dinner!”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Every time,” he complained aloud to the typewriter, standing up to stretch his back. “She never catches me in the middle of a boring passage, oh no. It’s always the action scenes, the ones that really ought to be written start to finish in one go if they’re to be any good...”

“You can come or not, but it’s just going to get cold if you don’t!”

“All right, I’m coming!” Sirius shouted back. “You be good, now, Mr. Thovine,” he said to the typewriter. “Don’t try shooting Athena till I get back. Of course, you wouldn’t manage it anyway – she’s got a pistol in that desk drawer, and she’s a faster draw than you are...”

He had a feeling Minerva McGonagall would either love him or hate him forever for this book. Possibly both, depending on if and when he told her the true identity of the author Valentina Jett.

But worry about that another time. Right now, I smell food.

He descended the stairs two at a time.

xXxXx

“Three, three, five,” Harry chanted under his breath. “Three, three, five.”

“Three, three, five, what?” said Draco from the other side of the table.

“It’s a general unlocking sequence,” Harry explained, looking up from his Arithmancy book. “In case you’re up against a locking spell you don’t know the counter for.”

“So you say those numbers, and the door just comes open?” asked Ron skeptically.

“No, it’s not like that,” said Hermione. “You have to use your wand. But you perform actions in those numbers. Things like tapping the doorknob, or waving your wand in a circle, or up and down, or side to side. You do three of one thing, three of another, then five of a third, concentrating on unlocking, and if you do it right, it opens.”

“That sounds really complicated,” said Ron. “Think I’ll stick with Alohomora , thanks.”

“But a lot of things are charmed against that, Ron,” said Hermione. “What if you run into one of those?”

“I’ll make sure never to go on an adventure without you along,” said Ron. “And then you can do it for me.”

“Are there other sequences like that?” asked Draco over Ron and Hermione’s squabbling. “Like one for locking?”

Harry nodded. “Basic locking is seven, ten. There’s other ones, but that’s the simplest.”

“Wouldn’t be much good if you were in a hurry.”

“Arithmancy’s not really for being in a hurry. You need Charms or Transfiguration for that. It’s more like Potions. You don’t usually use a potion in a battle, but before or after, it might be just what you need.”

Draco nodded. “Like a healing potion after, or one to give you extra strength before. It’s the same way with Ancient Runes. You wouldn’t stop in the middle of fighting to write something in runes, but if you want to set a charm or a curse on an object permanently, writing it in runes is the best way to do it.”

“Exactly. Professor Vector called Arithmancy a building block for a lot of the more complicated magics – she said the Gringotts goblins use something a lot like it to safeguard their vaults.”

“They take pride in customizing the security on each vault to the vault number,” said Hermione, breaking off her argument with Ron. “The really high-security vaults have especially magical numbers, like seven or thirteen, in them.”

“I didn’t know that.” Ron looked interested in spite of himself. “So vault number seven hundred thirteen would be higher security than vault number six hundred twenty, maybe?”

“Definitely.”

“Say, where’s Neville?” asked Harry, realizing who was absent from their group. Ginny and Luna were at class, and Meghan had her duties in the hospital wing, but Neville took most of the same classes they did. He should be here.

“He’s in the library with Meghan, helping her with something,” said Hermione absently, tapping her quill on her parchment. “Some secret project or other, they’re being very mysterious about it. I don’t really know what it’s all about.”

Percy climbed through the portrait hole, a roll of parchment under his arm, which he proceeded to tack up on the notice board with his wand.

“What’s that?” asked Draco, looking over his shoulder.

“Don’t know.” Harry put his book aside. “Let’s go find out.”

The four crossed the room to the notice board. “Come to see about the latest school club?” Percy asked them. “It looks very interesting – fine way to build inter-House cooperation, if you ask me...”

“A fighting club?” said Ron, staring enthralled at the poster. “Wicked!”

“Four teams, one from each House,” Hermione read from the poster rapidly. “Practices twice a week, competitions once a month. For each competition, the Houses will be randomly paired up, each pair acting as allies. Styles of competition will vary.” She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Like we did over the summer,” said Harry. “Sometimes it’d be fighting to the last man, sometimes we’d have to capture a place and hold it, or find a thing and bring it back.”

“Houses randomly paired up?” Draco frowned. “We could end up with Slytherin. They’re as likely to sabotage us as they are to fight our enemies.”

“That sort of comment is precisely the reason this club is such a good idea,” said Percy. “We all need to learn to be a little more tolerant of the other Houses in this school. We’re all Hogwarts students, there’s no reason for this ridiculous infighting.”

“Are you planning on joining, then?” asked Ron.

“Yes, I think I will. I see no reason not to, it shouldn’t interfere too much with studying for N.E.W.T.s, and it will give me a change of pace. Not to mention looking quite good on a resume.”

“Everything with Percy comes back to that,” said Ron under his breath as his brother walked away. “His job, his career, his future. Doesn’t he ever think about how much fun things might be?”

“Well, he has to think about fun a little, at least,” said Draco. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be going out with Penelope Clearwater.”

“Even that might be about where he wants to go,” said Hermione. “If he’s thinking about what will impress people, having a pretty girlfriend – or fiancée, or wife – might be important for him.”

Ron shook his head. “I think he’s really interested in her,” he said. “They don’t act like it’s just business or whatever.”

“I didn’t really think that,” said Hermione. “I was just pointing out that it could be.”

“And maybe saying it’ll be a change of pace is Percy’s way of saying he thinks it would be fun,” said Harry. “I guess it’s against the rules for the Head Boy to actually enjoy anything.”

“Tomorrow night at eight,” said Draco, reading from the poster. “We don’t have practice that night, do we, Harry?”

“No, it’s tonight...” Harry swore, looking at his watch. “I’ve got to finish those problems before dinner, I won’t have time after.”

“And I should get that translation done,” said Draco, leading the way back to the table around which they had been doing their homework.

“I have to write up something about how I use Divination in everyday life,” said Ron, making a face. “I don’t use Divination in everyday life. I always thought what you did with tea leaves was chuck them in the bin, and normal people don’t trace out lines on other people’s hands and tell them they’re going to die next Tuesday from a hippogriff attack.”

“Make something up, then,” advised Harry, opening his Arithmancy book again. “If you’re right about Trelawney, she’ll never know the difference.”

“Good point.” Ron dipped his quill. “I use Divination all the time in everyday life,” he muttered, scribbling. “In the morning, I look for patterns in my porridge to tell me how my day will go...”

“Faker,” said Hermione without any real rancor in her voice.

“You try it,” said Ron.

“No, thanks. There’s a reason I’m not taking Divination.”

“Because Moony told you you wouldn’t like it?” suggested Draco.

“Shut up.”

A contented silence fell over the four.

xXxXx

Ginny pressed herself against the stone of the archway she hid within, her heart pounding. She held her wand against her chest, ready to bring it down at a moment’s notice, as soon as the person she could hear around the corner got into range –

“Ha!” she shouted, leaping out and swinging her wand down hard. A spray of red-orange dye shot from the tip, coating Colin Creevey.

“Aww,” Colin complained. “How was I supposed to know you were there?”

“You weren’t,” said Professor Granger-Lupin, coming around the corner. “But you should have been more aware of your surroundings, and walking more quietly. If Ginny hadn’t heard you coming, you might have passed her by.”

Colin frowned, but nodded.

“Switch roles,” Professor Granger-Lupin instructed. “Colin hide, Ginny seek.”

Ginny hid her eyes and began to count. The first practices of the Combat Club were just this – glorified hide-and-go-seek through the halls of Hogwarts, with both sides armed with fake wands. Fred and George had constructed them to Professor Lupin’s specifications, so that the students who had joined the Combat Club wouldn’t be tempted to use illegal spells against one another.

There’s dye everywhere, all over the place – Filch is going to hate us, unless the teachers clean it all up afterwards...

But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was finding Colin and taking him out before he had a chance to do the same.

One-on-one at first. Next week, pairs. Then threes and fours, then groups of six or eight. By the time of the first competition, we’ll be ready.

She set off, taking care to set her feet down softly, and listening to every rustle and breeze as though Colin might be behind it. That was how one survived.

xXxXx

With the Combat Club taking up most of his evenings that weren’t full of Quidditch practice, homework occupying his free afternoons and weekends, and finishing his list of Animagus spells any time he had a spare minute, it didn’t really surprise Harry that Halloween was on him before he knew it. He had an extra reason to be excited about the holiday this year – his first ever Hogsmeade day would be on Halloween. Even though only he and Draco had to stay with a chaperone, still, that was better than not being allowed to go at all.

And if they had to have a chaperone, Moony was probably the best one they could have wanted. His lessons were certainly proving to be as interesting as Harry had hoped. They were studying Dark magical creatures, like Red Caps and kappas, and grindylows were next on the schedule.

Harry had lingered after one class, widened his eyes appealingly, and asked in a whisper if it was true they’d be studying werewolves near the end of the year. Moony had tapped him lightly on the head with what Harry had thought at the time was his wand, then shooed him out of the room. It wasn’t until he got back to the common room and Draco asked if he wanted to be Ron’s brother these days that he realized it had been one of the Gryffindor Combat Club wands, and his hair was covered with red-orange dye.

It was a good thing that Danger’s taming power not only kept Moony safe during his transformation, but cut down on the ill effects before and after, Harry thought as he got dressed on Halloween morning. Otherwise, Moony would have been too tired and achy now, two days before the full moon, to go anywhere other than his office, much less escort six excited children through Hogsmeade.

Six, because no one had been able to come up with a good reason why Meghan shouldn’t go. She wasn’t a student, so the third year rule didn’t apply to her. Madam Pomfrey might have been able to forbid it, but by the time anyone thought to apply to her, she had already charged Meghan with some errands in the village. And Padfoot and Letha, when asked, had given their permission, so to Hogsmeade Meghan would go. Ginny was highly disgruntled about this, Luna her usual philosophical self, asking only that Draco bring her back a levitating sherbet ball or two.

When Harry finished his breakfast and joined the rest of the Pride, Moony, and Danger in the entrance hall, Filch was walking up and down the line of students peering at them suspiciously. He gave Meghan a thoroughly nasty look, but said nothing other than, “Well, as they’re with you, Professors.”

As they approached the gates of Hogwarts grounds, Harry felt a familiar and unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach. He had forgotten that to leave the grounds, he would have to pass by the dementors. Draco, too, looked uncomfortable, swallowing several times in a way that didn’t seem to have anything to do with breakfast. Ron was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, seemingly impatient with the slow pace of the line. Hermione twisted a handful of her cloak. Meghan made an unhappy sound in her throat. Neville put a hand on her shoulder, and she laid hers on top of his.

Moony drew his wand and murmured something. A silver mist flowed from the tip of his wand and surrounded the group, and Harry felt the chill inside him ease. The dementors drew a little back from their group as they walked out the gates, and before they were very many steps down the path, Harry felt entirely better.

Nothing else is going to go wrong today, he decided. Nothing else at all.

xXxXx

Danger split off from the main group as they entered Hogsmeade. She had her own errands to run, most of which were purely personal.

Some supplies for my handicrafts. That used bookstore I’ve heard about. And some presents – Christmas is coming, faster than we like to realize...

“All righ’, there, Danger?” asked a voice she knew well.

“All right, Hagrid,” she said, turning. “You?”

“All righ’. Which’s more’n I kin say fer one’o my poor little knarls. I didn’ think ter bring ‘em in last night, an’ he’s gone an’ caught a chill – an’ I can’ dose him the normal way, yeh know how knarls are.”

“Yes, I know.” Knarls were almost indistinguishable from hedgehogs, the only difference being that knarls were paranoid and would see a bowl of milk not as a gift, but as an attempt to poison them. Hagrid’s usual tactics of leaving sweet potions or syrups where the sick creatures would find them obviously wouldn’t work with a sick knarl.

“Madam Pomfrey tol’ me Meghan migh’ be able ter help, an’ that she was down here in the village. Yeh wouldn’ know where, by any chance?”

“Let me think about it a moment.” Danger closed her eyes, supposedly thinking, in reality tapping Remus’ mind and asking, wordlessly, if she might come in. He allowed it, and she looked out through his eyes at shelves filled with sweet treats and delights.

“Honeydukes,” she said, opening her eyes. “That’s where they said they were going first.”

“All righ’, I’ll try there. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. We’ll see you at the feast, won’t we?”

“I migh’ be a little late, but I’ll be there.” Hagrid strode off down the main street of Hogsmeade, scattering the crowds of students by his mere presence.

Danger smiled, then turned to be off on her own errands.

xXxXx

“A sick knarl?” Meghan repeated. “I think maybe I can help. Madam Pomfrey taught me one of the spells she uses to give people potions when they’re too sick to wake up. Maybe I could use that on the knarl. May I, Professor, please?” she asked Remus.

“Down at your house?” Remus asked Hagrid. The gamekeeper nodded. “All right, Pearl, but as soon as we get back, no later, and come straight back up to the castle afterwards. I don’t want you wandering around on the grounds after dark, understand?”

Meghan nodded. “I will.”

“Yer a good girl, Meghan,” said Hagrid, stroking her braids gently with one massive finger. “Run along, now.”

Meghan giggled and squeezed between a large third year and a small fifth year in search of her Pride-mates.

“Don’t tell any of the others that,” advised Remus. “‘Run along,’ that is. They see it as talking down to them.”

“I wouldn’ say it ter them,” protested Hagrid. “On’y said it ter Meghan ‘cause she knows how I mean it. Friendly, like.”

“I know.” Remus smiled up at his friend. “They like you a lot, Hagrid. Harry says your lessons are interesting. What do you have them studying now, besides knarls? Mokes, was it?”

Hagrid nodded. “Af’er Halloween, I think we’ll start mooncalves. Not sure if I kin get one, but we kin talk about ‘em, learn what Muggles think about where they dance – flyin’ saucers an’ aliens an’ all. No need ter look ter other planets fer answers when they’re all righ’ here.”

Remus laughed. “Yes, but the Muggles don’t know that.”

A crash from elsewhere in the shop made both wizards start. “I’d better see what that is,” said Remus, already moving. “I’ll see you at the Feast, Hagrid.”

“See yeh at the Feast!”

The source of the sound had been a Slytherin fourth year trying to climb shelves without making sure they were fully fastened down first. The proprietor of Honeydukes was scolding him shrilly. The Pride looked quite happy to see Remus.

“We’ve bought all we want here,” said Harry over the lecture the witch was giving the embarrassed student. “Can we go to Zonko’s now?”

“Is there any way I can stop you?”

“No,” said Draco and Ron together. They looked at each other and grinned. Ron went on. “I don’t have to stay with you, sir, so I took orders. If you won’t let Harry and Draco go, I’ll just go for them.”

Remus nodded, satisfied. “As it should be. Follow me, then, Zonko’s it is.”

xXxXx

At Zonko’s, while the boys browsed the shelves happily, Hermione suddenly realized something.

Hagrid! He was right there – I could have asked him my question!

One of the textbooks the class had been using for Care of Magical Creatures claimed hippogriffs had no sense of smell. The other text said that they did, that in fact their capacity to detect and identify scent was quite good. Hermione didn’t like contradictory information. She wanted to know the answers, pure and simple.

And I could have asked Hagrid while he was talking with Moony and Meghan about... whatever they were talking about. I didn’t hear.

Maybe I can slip down to his house before the feast. I know I won’t be allowed out after, that’ll be bedtime, but beforehand I should be allowed.

xXxXx

Unseen by anyone, a third year stepped into an alley. He took parchment from his satchel and an ever-loaded quill from a pocket, held the parchment against the wall with one hand, and scribbled a note on it with the other. He scratched his head with his quill-holding hand once or twice while he wrote, and when he was done, he laid the note on the ground and dusted his hands off over it. Then he folded it into an irregular shape, dropped it to the ground and stepped on it a few times, and weighted it down with a rock before walking away.

There. Now he owes me. He’s supposed to do things like that, I saw the letter myself. He grinned meanly. After I stole it from him.

But he didn’t hear them talking. I did. So I did this for him, and now he owes me.

He liked having people owe him. It made life much more interesting.

xXxXx

Meghan slipped out of Hagrid’s house, smiling. The sleeping knarl had responded beautifully to her spell, opening its mouth for the potion it needed without ever waking up in the least. She wished Healing could always be that easy – a simple spell, a simple potion, and the patient would get better, with no more pain or mess or trouble.

But if everything was that easy, then there wouldn’t be any challenges. And I love challenges.

She set off up the lawn towards the castle. It was getting dark, and the feast would start soon. Hagrid had offered to walk up with her, but she didn’t want to wait for him and possibly be late. Rumor had it that Nearly Headless Nick would be singing a song this year, a song he’d written himself to celebrate his five hundred and first deathday, and reenacting his botched beheading for everyone’s entertainment pleasure. She didn’t want to miss that.

She had no warning, nothing to upset her or anger her, no emotion that would register on her pendants. All that she could ever recall was a vague confusion – why was the ground suddenly rising up to meet her?

xXxXx

Hermione hurried down the stairs, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and The Monster Book of Monsters firmly clutched in her arms. She had been thinking of putting this off until tomorrow – it wasn’t that urgent, it could wait – but Luna, of all people, had seen her looking at the books, figured out what she wanted, and urged her to go.

“I’ll tell everyone where you went,” she said. “So no one worries. Harry and Draco do that a lot, don’t they?”

“I think they have to,” Hermione replied. “It’s part of being who they are.”

Luna nodded. “They should know by now worrying doesn’t change anything,” she said. “But I suppose if it makes them feel better, it’s all right.” She’d smiled. “But if I tell them, then they can’t worry, so they’ll be unhappy.”

“Perfect,” said Hermione, grinning. “Make them miserable. Just what I love.”

Luna nodded again, smiling widely. “Me too. They’re funny when they’re miserable like that.”

Hermione smiled herself, recalling the conversation, as Hagrid’s hut drew nearer and nearer.

I like Luna. She’s a little funny sometimes, and she believes all kinds of strange things, but she’s a good friend, and she’ll always listen to you, whether you think she’s listening or not. And she doesn’t care what other people think. We could learn from her...

A low cry made Hermione jump nearly a foot. “What in – Crookshanks!” She saw with relief the bushy orange fur of her cat in the growing twilight. “You frightened me! Don’t do that!”

Crookshanks ignored her, circling around a spot and yowling uneasily. Hermione, curious, came to see what he was looking at and frowned. Some crushed grass was all, as if someone had lain down here. But most people didn’t lie out on the grass anymore, now that it was October, nearly November, and likely to be cold and damp.

She sniffed. The odor of freshly broken grass stems came to her. This just happened. Within a few minutes, or I wouldn’t be able to smell it like this from so small a patch. What’s going on here?

Crookshanks turned slowly, towards the Forest, and hissed, the hair on his back standing up. Hermione peered in the direction he was looking and felt the hair on her own back prickle. Was that a moving shadow, on the fringe of the Forest – or something else?

She shifted her books to her left arm and drew her wand.

“Lumos ! ”

The light-giving spell illuminated a figure all in black. A man, it was a short, plump man, clothed in black and masked in the same color, as Hermione saw as he turned to face the light –

And draped over his shoulder was an unconscious Meghan.

Hermione shrieked in anger and ran forward, the heat of battle rising in her chest, and felt an answering rumble against her arm –

The Monster Book!

She dropped Fantastic Beasts without a qualm, it couldn’t help her now. The Monster Book was large, but she thought she could manage it, even with just one arm.

Throw it like a Frisbee –

The man seemed to be frozen in shock, but she couldn’t count on that lasting long, she had to act now.

“Get him!” she shouted, and flung the Monster Book at his head. It flew from her hands, snapping, and attacked the man’s face. He yelped in surprise, dropped Meghan to the ground, and vanished –

No, he hadn’t vanished – for where he had been, there was something small and gray –

“Crookshanks ! ” Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs, and the cat bolted past her, chasing the tiny creature, which had disappeared into the Forest.

Nothing I can do about him now – Crookshanks will either catch him or not – I just hope he comes back all right – Crookshanks, that is, not him –

Hermione’s body moved independently of her babbling mind, running to Meghan’s side, first making sure she was alive, then touching her wand to her sister’s chest. “Ennervate ! ”

Meghan breathed in sharply and opened her eyes. “Hermione? What’s going on?”

“No time, get up, we have to run...” Hermione pulled Meghan to her feet and half-dragged the smaller girl along the edge of the Forest towards Hagrid’s house, ignoring the books that lay in the grass. Books could be replaced. Lives couldn’t.

It only took a moment or two to reach Hagrid’s hut, but it was too long for Hermione’s taste. She pounded on the door when she got there, holding Meghan up with her other arm, and dashed inside as soon as Hagrid opened the door. “Close it, quick,” she panted, falling into a chair. “It’s not safe.”

“What’s wrong?” Hagrid shut the door and crossed quickly to her. “What happened?”

“My head hurts,” said Meghan in a small voice. “And I don’t remember anything between starting up to the castle and seeing Hermione.”

Hagrid lifted her gently off her feet with one hand and laid her in his armchair, draping a handmade blanket over her. “Lie still there fer a while,” he told her. “What happened?” he asked Hermione again, more urgently.

Hermione pressed a hand to her chest, where her pendants were still uncomfortably warm. Meghan was pulling hers out of her robes. “He tried to kidnap Meghan – he must have Stunned her from behind – he was trying to get away with her – I don’t know how he got onto the grounds in the first place...”

“Who? ” Hagrid demanded.

Hermione took a deep, trembling breath. “Wormtail,” she said. “It was Wormtail.”

Meghan made a little mew of fear and hid her face in her hands.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 9: Anger and Fear (Year 3)


Chapter 9: Anger and Fear

Sirius closed the door of the training room behind him, grateful now that he had returned to the Auror Office when he did. Active Aurors were given the counter-charms to the security spells at the Ministry, since they might need to be there at any time. Which meant that now, at about nine o’clock at night, he could come here, to the Auror training center, without setting off alarms.

He pointed his wand at the practice dummy in the middle of the room and worked one spell on it that wouldn’t be part of a normal training session, then walked over to it and tapped it three times to activate it. “Level three,” he told it.

The dummy whirred to life, bringing its false wand into starting position. Sirius took his own stance without bothering to use any of the calming exercises he usually performed when he was about to duel. Level three was well below where he usually worked out, and he didn’t particularly want to be calm right now. Instead, he looked at the face he had cast on the dummy and let that face work him into a rage.

You double-crossing, slimy, sneaky rat-bastard, he thought, blocking the dummy’s pathetically weak strikes and striking back at it with all his magic and all his anger. I gave you your life – I stood up and asked that jury to let you live – and this is how you pay me back? Trying to kidnap my daughter? You don’t dare face me, or Letha, or Remus and Danger – you have to go after a little girl who’s not even in school yet?

“Too scared to go after someone who might fight back,” he growled, blasting a good portion of the dummy’s shoulder away. “You don’t even dare show your face, you work masked, and shoot from behind. And a teenage witch chased you off with a school book! Why the hell did we ever put up with you? Why didn’t we see what you were from the beginning?”

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Sirius shut off the dummy and turned around, trying to keep his face from turning too red. “’Lo, Tonks,” he said.

“Wotcher, Sirius.” Tonks leaned against the doorframe as if too tired to stand up straight, her hair a muddy brown. “I heard about Meghan. She’ll be all right, then?”

“She should be, she wasn’t hurt, just scared, and Letha’s with her now...” Sirius frowned. “Wait a second. How did you hear about her?”

“I was looking for you, but you weren’t home. I called the Weasleys, and Molly told me you’d gone to Hogwarts. So I headed there, and Letha told me what’d happened, and that you’d gone off to the Ministry. I thought you might be here.”

Sirius nodded. “Looking for me specifically, or just for us?”

“You. I found something I think you might want to see.” Tonks held up a slip of parchment with a gloved hand. “I would have given it straight to Letha, but I wasn’t sure if it might be dangerous or something. I know parchment holds poison well, but I don’t know how to check for it. I wanted to run it past you first.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sirius conjured gloves for himself, pulled them on, and crossed to Tonks’ side to take the parchment from her. Two or three spells confirmed that it was nothing more than it seemed, just a scrap of parchment which seemed to have been torn from a larger piece.

“It’s all right,” he said, leading the way out of the training room, turning back at the last moment to remove Wormtail’s face from the practice dummy. He didn’t want to have to explain that little detail in the morning when the other apprentices showed up. “You think Letha might want to see it?”

“It was Mum’s,” said Tonks quietly, running her finger along the lines of ink. “I found it in the hall, just before I found her. I forgot about it until tonight. Found it in the pocket of the robes I was wearing that day.”

“May I see it?” Sirius made it a request, rather than the order he, as a full Auror, was entitled to give an apprentice. Tonks was not just an apprentice, she was his cousin, and a grieving daughter who had just found something that had belonged to her mother. He shouldn’t take it from her without asking.

Tonks handed it to him, and Sirius sat down on one of the benches in the dressing room outside the practice arena. For the first time, he read what was written on the parchment rather than treating it as a potentially dangerous object. It seemed to have been torn from the left side of a scroll or page.

I have looked over the notes of Vilias’ last few ap

Minister was not entirely well beginning around t

were noticing it near the end of this past winter, but

and Rufus Scrimgeour, on the other hand, were per

Yet the same unusual compound was found in all

is never found in a normal witch or wizard, ill or heal

from these facts – all three of the subjects were delib

and Bones suddenly, but only Vilias succumbed com

Sirius felt a prickling along the back of his neck, a shivery feeling he hadn’t experienced in years. It meant something was happening, or had happened, that he needed to pay attention to.

“You’ve looked at this?” he asked Tonks.

“Only a little.” She sat down across from him. “Just enough to know that Mum wrote it. Why?”

“These words.” Sirius tapped the jagged right edge of the scrap. “If we can figure out what they were supposed to be, we’ll have a better idea of what this means. I’ll be right back, I’m going to grab some parchment and a couple of quills.”

“Aren’t you supposed to send the apprentice to do that?”

“The apprentice doesn’t know the password to turn off the office security charms,” Sirius reminded her. “For that matter, how did you get in here without setting everything off?”

“You turned it all off when you came in.”

Oh. “All right. I’ll be back in a second.” Sirius hurried down the hall to the cubicles, flicking off the security charms absently as he went, and turned unerringly into his own cubicle. He scooped up quills, an ink bottle, and some spare parchment from his desk with his right hand, holding his lit wand in his left. Somewhere between battling the dummy and this new enigma Tonks had provided, his fear-fueled anger had drained out of him, leaving only interest and excitement.

This scrap of parchment was going to be important, he knew it.

xXxXx

“Important is an understatement,” said Aletha, shaking her head. “How the hell did I forget? How did we all forget? Andy was working on two projects. Not just the Longbottoms, but on Vilias and Bones and Scrimgeour. And the notes on the Longbottoms were covered in potion, but the other notes were just gone. Gone so thoroughly, no one even thought to look for them.”

“Tonks found this in the hall,” said Sirius, tapping the small piece of parchment, which lay between them on the table. “And she remembers hearing a loud noise just after she called out. I think that might have been whoever killed Andy, Apparating out.”

“And taking the notes they didn’t want us to have. Except that they dropped a piece.” Aletha’s smile had a touch of the sardonic about it. “Not the most informative piece, but informative enough. This line with the letters delib . You came up with deliberate , or deliberately . All three of the subjects were deliberately ... something. Put that together with unusual compound and never found in a normal witch or wizard, ill or healthy , and what do you get?”

“Poison.” Sirius nodded grimly. “They were poisoned.”

“And here, these top lines.” Aletha pointed to them. “She seems to be saying that the reason Vilias died from it was because he hadn’t been well previously.”

“That’s right, I remember Arthur noticing he wasn’t coming to work as much,” Sirius recalled.

“But Bones and Scrimgeour were healthy to begin with, so it just made them ill.” Aletha scowled. “It makes too much sense for my liking. This goes to work with me on Monday, I’ll give it to their primary Healers. Knowing they were deliberately poisoned might help speed their recovery.”

“Unfortunately, it tells me nothing new,” said Sirius. “Nothing about who might have done this, or why.”

“That seems obvious enough,” said Aletha. “Who would want Fudge back in power? Other than Fudge himself, of course?”

Sirius growled softly. “The man Fudge once insisted was innocent. The man who could probably still manipulate Fudge, if he had enough money.”

“That’s what I think.” Aletha grinned. “Good thing he doesn’t have enough money. He only has whatever he pulled out that first time.”

“Remind me to thank Amy,” said Sirius. “If she hadn’t thought of that, who knows what Lucius would’ve done with that money?”

“Nothing good,” said Aletha quietly. “That’s all we can be sure of.”

As if that weren’t enough.

xXxXx

Even Neville avoided the hospital wing for a few days after Halloween. After Meghan’s initial and understandable reaction of fear to her near-kidnapping, she progressed, in some way known only to herself, to irritability with the entire world. No one could say even the most innocuous thing to her without her snapping back at them, and it was only Madam Pomfrey’s threat to stop her lessons until her bedside manner improved that started calming her down.

The first Combat Club competition brought Meghan back to normal entirely. No one saw any reason to bar her from the club, since real wands were never used, and she could swing the false ones around as well as anyone. She was her father’s daughter, after all, and it seemed that mock violence was just what she needed to work off some of her emotions.

For purposes of play, Meghan was designated an honorary Gryffindor. Two Hufflepuffs who had thought she would be an easy “kill” found out the hard way that she was both fast on the draw and never far from Neville, who came charging in at her scream and “killed” the Hufflepuff who had just “killed” her.

The rest of the Pride also acquitted themselves well, forming a small unit of their own within the larger “army” of the combined Houses they fought for. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were “killed,” Ron and Ginny while running a mission into enemy territory, Hermione, to her chagrin, because she’d forgotten that if she could see the enemy, the enemy could see her. The “last man standing” battle was a narrow victory for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw over Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

Harry, Ron, Draco, and Ginny had a different sort of battle on their minds. Wood was being deliberately cagy about who he planned to field for the first Quidditch match, against Hufflepuff, so the three reserves were flying just as hard as the first-string team. Finally, two days before the match, Wood made his announcement. Ginny and Ron, but not Draco, would take the field.

“It’s not because you’re no good, Black,” he told Draco after practice. “It’s the other way around. You’re good enough that I don’t have to season you. Weasley still freezes up if he makes a mistake. The only way to correct that is to let him play.”

“He’s trying to help, but it doesn’t help,” Draco said in frustration the night before the match, kicking at the leg of the bed from where he lay on the blue carpet. “And I know it’s stupid and babyish and everything, but I want to play! I want to be out there and score points for the team, not sit in the stands and watch and not be able to do anything!”

“You can’t help wanting what you want,” said Hermione from the bed. “And you’re not yelling at him, or demanding he let you play. I think you’re doing right.”

“Knowing it’s right doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No?”

Draco grumbled. “Maybe a little.”

“Good for you, then.”

Draco reached up to where several brown tendrils stuck over the edge of the bed and batted at one. Hermione squeaked. “Stop that!”

“Wasn’t me,” said Draco with a straight face. “Crookshanks did it.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Yes, he did.”

“No, he didn’t, because he isn’t even here. He’s asleep on my bed in the dormitory, so there!”

Crookshanks had returned from the Forest on Halloween alive and well but covered in burrs and scratches. The girls had petted him for hours, gently pulling the seeds from his fur, and treated his scratches with an ointment Madam Pomfrey had given them. He was still on edge, though, looking here and there vigilantly as if Wormtail might suddenly appear out of a hole in the wall and allow himself to be chased down and caught.

There had been no further sign of Wormtail, or of Lucius Malfoy, and no one could figure out how Wormtail had gotten onto Hogwarts grounds. The wards, specially designed to keep out even something as small as a rat, showed no signs of tampering, and Filch swore up and down that no one but authorized students and teachers had entered or left the grounds all day. Students were now forbidden to leave the castle after dark unless in the company of a teacher.

“Going to be stormy tomorrow,” said Draco thoughtfully, squirming around until his feet were under the bed. “Lots of rain and wind, even lightning. Maybe it’s just as well I’m not flying.”

“You still don’t like storms, do you?”

“No.”

“I think they’re interesting.”

“I know you do. You’ll probably be watching the storm as much as the match.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Draco groaned. “Girls ,” he said to the ceiling, which disdained to reply.

xXxXx

Harry looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall, which was a morass of swirling gray. “Lovely day,” he remarked to Ron.

“Worse for you than me,” said Ron, taking another bite of toast. “The Snitch’ll be near impossible to see in this weather. And Diggory’s bigger than you, so he won’t get blown around near as much.”

“I’ve got a good broom, and I’m good,” said Harry with as much confidence as he could muster. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve got glasses, too,” said Luna from across the table.

“You’re only noticing this now?” inquired Ron.

“Glasses get all smeary in the rain. Harry might have trouble seeing through them.”

“I didn’t think of that,” said Harry, taking off his glasses to look at them. “She’s right.”

“She’s almost always right,” said Draco. “You just have to get past the obvious bits.”

“I have an idea,” said Hermione from down the table. “Harry, can I see your glasses?”

Harry passed them to the red-topped blur which was Ron and watched him turn to the brown-topped one which was Hermione. A few blurry movements and an “Impervius ! ” later, Hermione handed them back to Ron. “Try pouring something on them,” she directed him. “Pumpkin juice is fine.”

Ron set the glasses carefully on the table and was about to upend his goblet over them when Ginny held her hand out to stop him. “Hold on,” she said, picking the glasses up and setting them on a clean plate. “Just because we don’t do the laundry is no reason to make more work for the house-elves.”

“Girls,” Ron muttered to Harry. “Shall I?”

“Be my guest.”

Ron dumped his pumpkin juice out over Harry’s glasses. The juice flowed around the glasses as though they had a shield spell on them. Harry picked them up – they were completely dry. He put them back on and grinned down at Hermione. “You’re a lifesaver, Neenie.”

“Thanks,” said Hermione, her cheeks turning pink.

xXxXx

Playing Quidditch in the rain wasn’t high on Harry’s list of favorite things to do – he was soaked through, and his hands were starting to go numb – but thanks to Hermione’s spell, at least he could see. He could hear only scraps and snatches of the commentary, and didn’t bother trying to keep track of it, instead watching the game.

Fred Weasley and a Hufflepuff Beater sent a Bludger steadily back and forth between them for nearly three minutes straight, until Ginny flew past with the Quaffle and the Bludger detoured to chase her. George intercepted it and slammed it towards the Hufflepuff Keeper, allowing Ginny to score, and the Gryffindors cheered, their voices almost drowned out by a huge clap of thunder. Harry joined them, pumping his fist in the air as Ginny flew past him, then resuming his high circles, searching the pitch for any sign of a tiny, golden, winged ball.

Gryffindor scored twice more and Hufflepuff once before Harry found himself hovering near the teachers’ seats. Danger and Moony waved to him, and he waved back. After one more quick look for the Snitch, he turned back to them and opened his right hand, one finger at a time, then mimed a questioning shrug.

What’s the score?

Moony tapped himself on the chest, pointed upwards, then held up his right hand with all the fingers extended.

We’re up by fifty, Harry interpreted. He tossed a thanks in their direction, then turned his broom to keep looking. Katie had the Quaffle; she was being ganged up on by two Hufflepuff Chasers, but Alicia and Ginny were coming in at two different angles, so she’d be able to pass to one of them soon. Ron was watching the tangle anxiously, with one of the twins hovering beside him and the other flying beside Ginny.

A flash of yellow caught Harry’s eye – Diggory, flying up the field as though his broom-tail were on fire...

He must have seen the Snitch!

Harry leaned so far forward on his Nimbus he was practically lying on the handle, urging it to greater and greater speed. “Come on, come on,” he whispered to it. “Come on, you can do it...”

He was catching up to Diggory, but something had changed. Something was unreal about this moment, this place, this action. His hands were still stiff with cold, his face lashed by rain, but the screams of the crowd and the roar of the wind were gone, replaced by an uncanny silence.

Harry gasped as a wave of cold worse than any he had felt before this rushed suddenly over him and into him, chilling him from the inside out. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even think. All he could do was cling to his broom handle and try to breathe as his chest constricted, his muscles seizing up in the cold...

And then the screaming started.

xXxXx

Dripping water and a whining little-girl voice echoing in his ears, Ron sped up the pitch, headed for a motionless red-robed figure high above him. He was shivering, whether from the dementors’ chill or his pendants’ he couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.

Harry passed out the last time, and that was just with one – there’s got to be a hundred of them down there. He’ll fall for sure.

I sat there and let him almost die last year. I’m not going to do it again!

He leaned forward more, silently begging his old, broken-down broomstick for more speed, his eyes fixed on Harry’s unmoving form. But no, he wasn’t unmoving – he was starting to tilt to one side with the limp motion that meant he couldn’t be conscious –

Ron altered course, swerving to one side and down, and released his broom handle with one hand. As he came level with Harry’s falling body, he caught his friend’s wrist and pulled him onto the broomstick, then carefully eased out of the steep dive and headed back towards the ground.

His landing was not all that could have been desired. A charitable person would have described it as “not very gentle” or “a little rocky,” while someone less polite but more accurate would have said that Ron crashed into the middle of the Ravenclaw stands.

But a good landing is one you walk away from, he thought dizzily as the Ravenclaws helped him up and a seventh year conjured a stretcher for Harry. And a great landing is one where you can reuse the broom.

By that standard, his landing had definitely been good. The jury was still out on whether or not it had been great.

But I need a new broom anyway.

xXxXx

“Lucky you remembered what happened on the train.”

“What were those things doing on the grounds anyway?”

“Are they why it got so dark, so fast?”

Dark, he remembered dark. Dark, with only the one source of light, and even that mostly blocked by the shape of a person. The screaming was coming from the person, and it was aimed at him, and he hated it. But as much as he hated it, he wanted it to keep going, because as soon as it was over, the light would be gone too, and he would be alone, trapped in the dark.

His hands quested outward, but found no confining bars, nothing but the edge of a bed, and empty space beyond. That was good, or at least he thought it was.

“Look! He’s moving... Harry? Harry, are you awake?”

“Er...” Harry gave the question serious consideration. “Yeah. I think.” Another moment’s thought reminded him of how his eyes opened. He put that knowledge into use and felt a rush of relief at the light surrounding him. Once he could see it past all the people, that was. Almost the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was standing around his bed, plus the Pride and the Pack, which added up to...

Wood’s not here, so the team minus him and me is five. Pride without me is seven, Pack-parents are four. Five, seven, twelve, sixteen.

Something about the simple addition calmed him, and the screaming and the darkness faded further into his memory. “What happened?” he asked, sitting up.

“Dementors happened,” said Padfoot grimly. “Every single one of them left their posts to come feed off the match. Lucky Ron thought fast enough to fly up and catch you when you passed out – we were all so busy trying to fend them off, we might not have noticed you were falling until too late to do anything.”

“I knew Quidditch was a high-injury sport, but you seem to take it to new levels, Harry,” added Danger. “This is what, the third time you’ve ended up in hospital after a Quidditch game, out of a grand total of five you’ve ever played in?”

“This wasn’t actually related to the game, though,” Harry objected. “Why do they do that to me?”

“We’re not sure,” said Moony, moving forward a little so that Harry could see his hands, carefully placed in the signal for Later . “We’ll be looking into it.”

“I’m double glad I wasn’t flying,” added Draco. “One incapacitated player is enough.”

Harry dredged up a little smile at this, since it was obviously meant to be humorous. “What happened with the match, then? Did they call it off, or are we going to continue later?”

Everyone suddenly found somewhere else to look. Harry’s insides chilled again, and added twisting to their repertoire. Diggory had been going after the Snitch when the dementors had showed up...

“Did we – lose?” He hated his voice. It sounded so weak, so timid, like a little kid unwilling to believe that because of one bad shot, all his best Gobstones suddenly belong to his friend.

Ginny nodded. “Diggory got the Snitch right before Madam Hooch called time-out,” she said, then tried a smile which didn’t quite work. “What she called it for was actually Ron leaving the goal area, not for the dementors. She hadn’t noticed them yet. So she was about to give Hufflepuff a penalty shot.”

“But they didn’t need one,” said George. “They won by a hundred.”

Angelina sighed at the look on Harry’s face. “This wasn’t your fault,” she said, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. “You can’t help what those things do to you. And we’re not out of the running yet – if Ravenclaw beats Hufflepuff, and then we beat Ravenclaw...”

“But Ravenclaw’d have to win by a huge margin,” said Alicia. “At least two hundred.”

“That’s not so big,” said Katie. “That’s just fifty up, and then the Snitch, we’ve done that before.”

“But I don’t think Ravenclaw’s going to be thinking about our chances when they play...”

“No, but they’ll be thinking about theirs. The more points they get, the better for them. It just happens to be better for us, too.”

Harry wasn’t really listening to this, it was just falling into his ears. They had lost. He had lost. He’d fallen down on the job, literally, and now Gryffindor’s chances of winning the Quidditch Cup were all but gone. Wood would never hold the Cup high as was the winning captain’s right...

“Where’s Wood, anyway?” he asked.

“Showers,” said Fred. “We’ll have to check on him, make sure he hasn’t drowned... come on, Harry, don’t do this to yourself. We had to lose sometime.”

“And we still have a chance,” added George. “We’ll come back from this, you watch. No trouble at all.”

Harry nodded a little without really paying attention to what had been said, and lay down on the bed again, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to think, because thinking would mean acknowledging what had happened. Acknowledging loss, and his own weakness... what must the team think of him, fainting when dementors came near? At least only the Pride had been there to see his collapse on the train. This one had been in front of the whole school, and there was no good trying to hide it, not when it had decided the Quidditch game.

When he next looked up, the room was clearer than it had been. The team, except for Ginny and Ron, had left. The Pack-parents were at the other end of the room talking with Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore. The Pride was spread out over the beds immediately next to Harry’s own, talking quietly or watching him.

Harry looked at Ron. “Thanks,” he said, brushing two fingers against his cheek and holding out his hand.

“You’re welcome.” Ron started to grasp Harry’s hand, then, remembering, brushed his own fingers against his cheek before shaking hands.

“Same thing as before?” asked Draco.

“What?”

“Did you hear the same thing this time that you did before, on the train?”

Why do you want to know that? “I don’t remember. How come?”

Draco shrugged. “No reason. Just, I heard something different this time. I wondered if you did too.”

Harry made a noncommittal noise. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard the same thing. Both times had involved screaming, was all that he was sure of. He cast about for a different, safer conversational topic. “You didn’t grab my broom while you were up there, did you?” he asked Ron.

“Er, no, sorry,” said Ron, looking suddenly stricken. “Harry, about your broom...”

“It blew away when you fell off,” said Neville. “The wind carried it right out of the stadium. Right over to...” He squirmed a little. “To the Whomping Willow.”

“My broomstick blew into the Whomping Willow?” repeated Harry numbly. This was turning out to be the worst Quidditch match ever. He knew all about the Whomping Willow from stories of Marauder days at Hogwarts. Padfoot had avoided the tree religiously during his year as a teacher, claiming it remembered him and knew exactly where to hit. “Did it... is it bad?”

Hermione picked up a small bag sitting on the floor and handed it to Harry. “I’m sorry,” she said, gesturing to it. “That was all we could find.”

Harry emptied the bag onto the bedspread. There was no piece there longer than his hand, and all traces of the once smooth, glossy finish of the handle and the fine sheen of the twigs had vanished. The only thing his Nimbus Two Thousand could possibly be good for now was starting a fire.

For a moment or two, he wanted to cry. It was stupid, it was just a broomstick, but it was his broomstick, the one he’d had ever since he was a first year, the one he’d flown every Quidditch game on, and now it was just a pile of kindling.

Then something came to mind. A promise, made half in jest, before the year started. A promise owing from the Pack-parents to him.

“If you need a new broom while you’re in school...”

Harry sat up a little straighter. Maybe this wasn’t such a total loss after all.

“You remember what Moony said at Diagon Alley?” he asked Draco. “When I was saying I never get anything new?”

“No – wait, yes.” Draco grimaced. “You lucky little... did you know this was coming?”

“No! If I’d known, don’t you think I would have tried to catch the Snitch before the dementors showed up?”

“I’m missing something here,” said Ron.

“At Diagon Alley, when I got Morpheus, Harry was complaining about how he got the old owl, and the old broomstick,” Draco explained. “Moony promised him that if he needed a new broom while he was still in school, he could get the very best and newest thing.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “No. No way. You’re not getting...”

Harry nodded. “If they live up to it, I am.”

“Can I have a go?”

“Of course. Once I get it. Probably for Christmas, we don’t have a game until after then, and I can ride a school broom for practice.”

“Maybe we should put a seat belt on it,” said Draco. “Just in case the dementors crash the next match too.”

Harry picked up the longest piece of his Nimbus and hit Draco on the head with it. “Try it. Just try it. I’ll hex you so hard you can’t even walk.”

“I’ll hex you back so you can’t sit down.”

“I’ll hex you back so you can’t eat.”

“I’ll hex you back so you can’t see.”

“I’ll hex you both so you can’t talk if you don’t stop it!” snapped Hermione from the next bed over.

But Draco had a point, Harry thought. What if the dementors did come to the next Quidditch match? What if they came onto the grounds at some other time? He needed some way to defend himself against them, something he could do to ward them off, or keep himself protected from their effects.

He knew that the only charm effective against them was called a Patronus, and that it was tricky, advanced magic. He knew full well that Letha could do one – the story of the day she had chased one away from Padfoot when it was just about to Kiss him was standard den-night material – and he assumed Moony could as well, since he had chased out the one which had entered their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. He didn’t know about Padfoot or Danger.

He also didn’t know what a Patronus really looked like, other than silvery and some kind of animal, or how to cast one. Was it the spell itself which was complicated, or was it just that it required so much power and concentration that it would be hard for a young wizard or witch to do?

I can at least try. Anything’s better than just sitting there and letting them knock me flat on my arse.

I have to be mad. I’ve got classes, Quidditch, Combat Club, Animagus training, and now I want to add something else?

But this is important. I need it. What if this happens again?

I’ll ask Moony about it tomorrow.

xXxXx

“You want to learn to do a Patronus?” Moony repeated. “I suppose it’s not a bad idea, but it’s very difficult, Harry. You might not be able to get the hang of it for a long time. And even if you do, it’s draining. Unless you can cast a corporeal Patronus – and most wizards can’t – you have to keep feeding it energy to keep it alive.”

“Big word,” said Harry. “Corp... something.”

“Corporeal? Bodily, having a body. A corporeal Patronus is more than mist or vapor, it’s a shape, detached from the wizard or witch who cast it. It is the most advanced stage of the spell.”

“Can you do one?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see?”

“If you like.” Moony drew his wand. “Expecto Patronum !”

Harry watched as silver mist fountained from the wand and formed itself into a life-sized silver wolf, which frisked once around the room, then sat down at Moony’s feet and wagged its tail before fading away. “Would mine be a wolf?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It’s different for everyone, you see, depending on what or whom you see as protecting you. Sirius’ was a dog when he was a young man, and even through our first years as the Pack, but these days it’s a winged horse, and Aletha’s is the dog.”

“Is yours a wolf for Danger, then?”

“You’re not to repeat this, but yes.”

Harry grinned to see Moony’s embarrassed flush. “I won’t. Is hers a lion?”

“It should be, if the pattern holds true. She’s never had occasion to try one out, and I’d rather she not. She’s never been easy with wand-using magic.”

“Can I try it?” Harry drew his own wand.

“The Patronus? No, Harry, not right now. I don’t have time today to show you how to do it properly – not that it’s hard, but I’d rather teach you right the first time. Spells improperly used can backfire and have all kinds of bad effects. Also, you’ll need to be sure you’re not under any spells that might interfere.”

“Under any spells? You mean, spells someone else put on me?”

“Yes.”

“Why would someone else put a spell on me?”

“Maybe because they wanted to keep track of you?”

“Keep track... do you have a spell on me?”

“Yes. Or rather, Danger has a spell on you. All eight of you.”

“What for?”

Moony gave him a penetrating look. “Considering your past history, we wanted to be absolutely sure you wouldn’t try any of the Animagus spells on your own. The spell lets us keep track of your progress magically, without interfering with any of your own magic. So it shouldn’t get in the way of you learning to do a Patronus, but you always need to ask around before you learn something new and powerful, just in case.”

“Just in case somebody’s spying on me,” muttered Harry.

“Nobody’s spying on you, Harry. The spell works below your conscious level, so there’s no way we could tap into any of your thoughts. It would only alert us if you tried magic you weren’t supposed to.”

Harry still didn’t like it, but he had to admit, the Pride did have a history of getting into places they weren’t supposed to be. So far, at least, they always got out again, but that might not last. “What’s the spell?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just so I can tell Hermione. She’ll want to know all about it.”

Moony chuckled. “She does like to know things. The incantation is actually sex-linked, so it had to be cast separately on the boys and the girls. Expositium tiro for the boys, and tira for the girls. You can tell her that.”

“Expositium ira ?” Harry repeated.

“No, tira . Ira would be something completely different...” Moony trailed off. Apparently he’d just had a riveting thought. Then he came back to the moment with a little shake of his head. “Speaking of Animagus, how are you all coming?”

“I really think we might be done this time,” said Harry. “Neville found the spell to give his form its magical properties at den-night, and everyone else was already finished.”

Moony raised an eyebrow, and Harry suddenly realized he’d said more than he meant to.

Did I just give away about the Hogwarts Den?

But all Moony said was, “I’ll arrange for a meeting Monday evening. Bring your lists, and we’ll double-check. If you really are all finished, then you can start actually doing the spells. One at a time, and you’re not to practice any of them on your own until we’ve seen you successfully do and undo the change. Understood?”

“Yes, sir .” Harry saluted briskly.

“Watch the attitude, Greeneyes,” Moony warned, and Harry ducked as a fireball zipped around his head. “You never know what your adversary may do.”

xXxXx

Once Harry was gone, Remus sat back in his chair and checked in the back of his head. Danger’s mental tie hummed with quiet busyness. She was probably reading or knitting, or both. That was good. He didn’t want to be disturbed doing this.

We have been fighting more than could really be explained by just stress. Little things, but they keep flaring into actual fights rather than just smoothing down like they used to.

Might there be a reason?

Harry’s slip of the tongue had shown Remus just how easy such a slip could be. What if Danger had slipped in that way? What if she had, all unknowing, cast a misspoken spell on herself?

The spell as it stands means approximately “show the beginner.” Meaning, show me what the beginner is doing, tell me if the beginner does something inappropriate. But with a slip like Harry made, it would mean “show the anger.” And if Danger miscast it that way, it would have backfired, and taken effect on her instead – and she would likely have thought it just went away, since she never studied magical theory.

And anything that affects her, affects me.

Remus got up and went to the mirror. Pointing his wand at it, he spoke the incantation which would turn it into a scrying tool for magic. It went black for a moment, as though it had been suddenly covered with crape, and then his image was in it again, but overlaid with sparkling traces. His bond with Danger, stretching off into the distance – the magic of his Animagus form, with him always thanks to the potion he’d drunk – the fading traces of the Patronus he’d cast to show Harry – a few other minor spells –

And, in the background and hard to see but definitely there, something which should not be. A twisted, misshapen spell, lying deep within his mind, subtly warping his responses to situations more towards anger than towards his normal polite conciliation. He could even see the faint track of it in their bond, where it had become stronger over the past few months.

At least I know it wasn’t an enemy doing this to us. It was just an accident, a slip of the tongue.

And, thank goodness, easy enough to fix.

He removed the charm from the mirror and went in search of Danger.

Time to get things back to normal.

xXxXx

“I doubt it was all the fault of the spell,” said Danger, after it had been removed and the Lupins were sitting together. “You probably would have hit Snape for saying what he said even without it.”

“And you would still have been angry with me for that, and rightfully so.” Remus nodded. “But I wouldn’t have overreacted afterwards the way I did.”

“And I wouldn’t have been so touchy when you asked me for what is really just common courtesy, asking before I come into your mind.” Danger laid her head against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I never knew this would happen.”

“Just... tell me from now on if a spell goes bad on you, all right? I’d rather not find out something like this is affecting us in the middle of a battle, or on a stake-out.”

“Pack honor.” Danger lifted her right hand. “Tell you the instant anything goes wrong.”

Remus grinned. “Dear God, I’ll never get any work done again.”

Danger squealed with indignation and slapped him. Remus captured her hands between his own and took full advantage of the situation.

Letha was right. The best part of fighting is the making up.

xXxXx

Aletha set down her quill with a satisfied sigh. She’d have to check her maths later, but for now, she rather thought she was finished. The proportions had all worked out, creating a potion which might not be entirely pleasant to drink, but wouldn’t be actively harmful either. More to the point, it would begin to do what needed to be done.

If anything can. What kind of power will be needed to heal the effects of twelve years of madness?

She pushed that thought aside. Her job was to brew the potion, make sure it wouldn’t harm the Longbottoms, then see if it would help them. After that...

Why don’t we deal with “after that,” after that.

The Floo chimed. Aletha got to her feet and went out into the music room to greet Sirius with a kiss. Her love looked somewhat annoyed, she noticed. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You had to be all goody-goody-Healer and tell Scrimgeour’s Healers he’d been poisoned, didn’t you?” Sirius flopped down on the couch. “He’s back, and he’s a bloody pain to work with. Robards was a hell of a lot easier.”

“Robards was so overworked, you never saw him.”

“Exactly. Plus, Robards didn’t have some kind of personal vendetta against me. I have no idea why Scrimgeour doesn’t like me, but he doesn’t. He keeps ‘dropping by’ and just standing in my doorway and staring at me. Three times today. It’s starting to really bother me.”

Aletha thought of everything she could say at this point and decided to go for the path of least resistance. “I have only one request.”

“What?”

“Don’t do anything he can trace to you.”

Sirius snickered. “We really have corrupted you, haven’t we?”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to.”

“I know.” Sirius moved in for a kiss of his own. “I know.”

Having the Den to themselves had some definite perks, Aletha decided.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 10: Badger's Son (Year 3)


Chapter 10: Badger’s Son

“You put a spell on yourself by accident ?” Aletha chuckled. “I don’t think even Sirius has ever managed that one.”

Danger stuck her tongue out briefly at her sister. “Well, I’m sure it wasn’t the only reason we’ve been squabbling more than usual. Stress has something to do with it, and the fact that we’re both working hard now. The spell was just an extra irritant.”

“At a time when you really didn’t need one.” Aletha nodded. “I know how that can be. It’s the little things that really pile up and get you, isn’t it?”

“You know it.” Danger leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “Lord, I am so glad I can come home for a few hours every so often. Not that I don’t love it at Hogwarts, I do, but...”

“It’s like you told me last year. Hogwarts is such a busy place that it can wear you out. So you come home to the Den for a little while and recharge yourself, and then head back and beat some sense into those troublesome brats we raised.”

Danger chuckled. “As if I could. As if anyone could. At least they have plenty to keep them busy.”

“Yes, how are their... private lessons coming?”

“Very well, actually. Harry and Hermione both have one of the spells down pat. Ron’s almost got one, Ginny had one work for her once but then couldn’t do it again. The others are coming along, making the same mistakes they always make, but that’s what Remus is good at. He really is a fine teacher.”

Aletha sighed a little, swaying on her feet as she looked out the kitchen window. “He’d make a fine father.”

“He does make a fine father,” Danger corrected mildly.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. And let’s not get into it, please.”

“All right. But you have to pick a new topic of conversation, then.”

“Your work,” said Danger promptly. “How is it going?”

“Well, you know I finished my calculations last week. What you didn’t know is that I’m planning on starting the brewing soon. Possibly today, if that shipment of peanut papers comes in.”

“Good luck with that, then.”

“Thank you.”

“And there is something I wanted to ask you,” said Danger. “Not about your work, exactly, but about that scrap of parchment Tonks found, the one that told the Healers that Bones and Scrimgeour had been poisoned. Didn’t they suspect foul play back when it first happened? Why wouldn’t they know that already?”

“It was a very subtle poison, and very rare,” said Aletha. “Not even many Healers have heard of it. It disguises itself as things normally found in the body, and doesn’t show up on most poison tests. You have to test for one specific compound in order to find it. And it’s not supposed to cause death at all, especially not from heart failure, which is what Vilias died of, so the Healers ruled it out when they were testing. They couldn’t figure out why Bones and Scrimgeour weren’t recovering, but of course it was the poison. It keeps working unless you neutralize it with a highly specific spell and potion combination.”

“But when you do...”

Aletha shrugged. “The person’s back on their feet within a few days. That’s the oddest thing – it doesn’t cause any permanent damage. It just makes its victim ill, and keeps them ill, until they get the antidote. It’s like whoever poisoned them didn’t want them dead.”

“Except Vilias.”

“Except Vilias – but they might not have wanted him dead, either, only they didn’t know that he’d been ill for a long time, or they did but didn’t realize how much that would add to the poison’s effects. I don’t know. It probably doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Probably not.”

xXxXx

Upstairs, Remus looked up from a packet of papers. “This is good,” he said. “This is really good.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe a little. You’ve been blocked for quite a while.”

Sirius shrugged. “I think the Mandragora did it. When it un-rock-ified my body, it did the same thing to my brain.”

Remus shook his head. “It’d take more than Mandragora to do that,” he said with certainty. “More like a miracle.”

“I ignore you,” said Sirius with dignity. “Notice that I have heard nothing.”

“Mr. Moony submits that Mr. Padfoot always starts hearing nothing right about the time the conversation stops going his way.”

“Mr. Padfoot agrees, but reminds Mr. Moony of his tendency to do the same.”

“Mr. Moony would like to know if Mr. Padfoot would be amenable to having his manuscript thrown out the window.”

“Mr. Padfoot would force Mr. Moony to go out there and pick it all up again.”

“Mr. Moony would tell Mr. Padfoot to do it himself.”

“Mr. Padfoot would tell Madam Danger on Mr. Moony.”

“Cheater.”

Sirius grinned. “If it means I win...”

xXxXx

“How goes the Combat Club?” asked Aletha over dinner.

“Oh, wonderfully. The next competition is in just about a week. Don’t tell anyone, but we’ve pulled the slips for it already – it’s Gryffindor and Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw and Slytherin.”

“That’s twice you’ve been lucky,” said Sirius. “You know what’s going to happen when you pull Gryffindor and Slytherin, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” said Remus. “They’ll be so busy fighting each other that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff will get an easy win, and Gryffindor and Slytherin will be horribly humiliated. Maybe it’ll teach them to work with their allies, no matter who those allies are.”

“We can only hope.” Danger rolled her eyes. “At least Snape won’t be able to claim favoritism, if our House – adopted House, for me – goes down with his.”

“And we’ve been very careful to stay officially neutral about the matches,” added Remus. “Luckily, those wands we got from Fred and George make it easy to tell hits from misses. And the dye’s non-toxic and washes right out, so no one can claim we poisoned them or ruined their favorite robes.”

“You know, it almost makes me want to be back at school myself,” said Sirius. “Skulking around the hallways of Hogwarts, searching out my enemies, finding them and destroying them where they lair – say, can you control how much dye comes out of those wands?”

Danger chuckled. “Yes, but the students don’t know that. They’ve only been using them on the one level, because none of them have thought to ask if they’re adjustable or not. The twins are sworn to secrecy about it. The first person to ask gets the advantage for their House. I have some money on a Ravenclaw asking first. Remus thinks Hermione will think of it.”

“So if you knew the right command, you could set your wand to bombard a room?”

Remus nodded. “You could even – I wouldn’t recommend it, but it’s possible – set your wand to explode and toss it in like a grenade. Come to think, that wouldn’t be a bad use for broken wands, if the war ever starts again.”

Sirius laughed. “I’ll have to bring that up at work.”

xXxXx

Harry pressed himself against the wall, breathing as quietly as he could. This was a new type of match to him, because the Pride had never had enough people to pull it off – a “VIP” match, where the object of the game was to keep certain people on your own side safe and capture or kill those of your opponent, with more points assigned for a live capture than for a kill. The catch was that neither side could be sure they had complete or correct information about their opponent’s VIP’s.

Harry was almost certain the Slytherclaws would conflate the game with reality and go after him, whether they’d been told he was a VIP for the Gryfflepuff team or not. In truth, he wasn’t. Luna, of all people, had been selected as a Gryfflepuff VIP, along with a Gryffindor sixth year and a pair of Hufflepuff fifth years. Luna was being kept safely behind the lines, while the other three were spread out, with the people in their vicinity having orders to fight just a little harder for them. If their opponents didn’t already know about their VIP status, there was no reason to give it away.

There . Harry’s insides tightened with anticipation – footsteps on the stone, and whispering voices. They couldn’t be Gryfflepuffs, not unless they were scouts coming back from a mission, and there were too many of them to be that. Three, five, eight –

Harry backed up three careful steps and listened again. He wasn’t mistaken. What sounded like the main attack force was coming through here.

And I’m the farthest out – alone –

Part of him wanted to stay and fight it out, insisting that running would be cowardly. Harry wrestled that part to the ground and sat on it. I’m one person. There’s at least twenty of them, probably more. I’m going to need backup. And I have to warn the main force.

Well, that, at least, I can do without leaving.

His hand fell to his side, where he had tied the talisman he’d made the year before in Padfoot and Letha’s Defense class. It turned out that with a slight alteration, these talismans could be used as crude communicators, able to send a limited number of messages to one another. Harry lifted his from where it dangled on its string and whispered “Invasion” to it.

A rune on the talisman’s edge began to glow. Harry nodded with satisfaction – that meant the message had sent correctly – and started backing up again.

He was two steps from the corner when a Ravenclaw scout stuck her head into his hall. She spotted him, shouted, and shot all at the same time. Harry dodged, but couldn’t quite avoid the spray of blue dye.

Damn. Arm wound.

He shot back, nailing the scout before she could duck, then pelted down the side corridor, dodging quickly into the first empty classroom he saw, and pulled out his kit. He wrapped a couple of lengths of white cloth around the spatters of dye on his arm, then tied it off and whispered, “Heal.”

The cloth glowed for an instant before subsiding. He could keep fighting now, Harry knew. If he hadn’t dealt with his “wound,” the dye on his robes would have kept spreading until it reached his chest or head, at which point he would have been declared incapacitated and had to leave the combat. It was the Combat Club equivalent of bleeding to death.

Which is to say, stupid, if you can deal with it and don’t.

He looked carefully around the door, using only one eye – the side of his head would scream “human” less obviously than the top, he knew. The hall was clear, but it wouldn’t be for long, by the sound of things.

So, do I stay here and hope they don’t check the room, or do I run?

A large Slytherin rounded the corner and solved the problem for him. “Oy! You there!”

Harry whipped his wand around the door and shot the Slytherin in the knee – need to work on my aim, I think – then took off running over the Slytherin’s yells. He screeched to a halt at a cross-corridor.

Maybe I can make it back to our lines before they get me. Or should I play decoy, now that I know they’ve been warned?

Right takes me back to our lines. Left goes into no man’s land.

A spray of green dye shot past his head.

Left it is.

He pounded off down the hall, leading the Slytherclaw invasion force astray, buying enough time for the Gryfflepuff forces to get there and ambush the Slytherclaws from the back, wiping them out. Harry himself had to leave the match when he was hit a second time and didn’t have a chance, in the heat of battle, to stop the “wound” from spreading.

He watched as the Gryfflepuff main army stormed into Slytherclaw territory, taking some heavy losses but not stopping for anything, until they captured three of the Slytherclaw VIP’s and “killed” the last. The only Gryfflepuff VIP casualty was one of the Hufflepuff fifth years, who’d been “killed” by a lone wolf Slytherin agent when she realized he’d summoned help and she was surrounded. She’d then “killed” herself, so that the Gryfflepuffs wouldn’t get the points for her capture.

“So, totaling points, it seems the Gryfflepuffs have won,” announced Danger, causing widespread cheering at those two House tables in the Great Hall after the battle. “But–” She raised her hand to stop the cheering. “But. Points aren’t everything. Let’s have a look at the casualty rates.” She flicked her wand at the blackboard she’d brought into the hall.

Harry gulped. He’d known the Gryfflepuff losses had been heavy, but he’d had no idea they’d been as heavy as that. They’d lost almost half their force, dead or badly wounded, with their direct invasion of Slytherclaw territory. If they hadn’t captured those three VIP’s alive, they would have lost the match.

“Frontal assault is almost never a good tactic, if you care about the lives of the people you’re fighting with,” said Moony from the front. “And you should care about those lives. You should want to do everything in your power to keep those lives going – even from a purely pragmatic standpoint, every person alive and on your side is another person who can help to keep you alive. So use as many tricks as you can. Be sneaky and stealthy and take your victories where you can get them.”

“The Slytherclaws’ tactic of sending a decent-sized but not huge invasion force was just fine,” Danger added. “If the Gryfflepuffs hadn’t had an alert sentry at the point where the Slytherclaws tried to get in, the Slytherclaws would have made it in, probably found the Gryfflepuff VIP’s, and very possibly won.”

“So, next time, refine that strategy,” Moony said to the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. “Send out scouts beforehand, maybe. Or see if you can find some way to scout the area magically. And you,” he said to the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. “Battles aren’t like essays. Steal your neighbor’s ideas, and feel no shame. It might keep you alive another day. Congratulations, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Fifty points to each of you, and twenty each to Ravenclaw and Slytherin for fighting so well. Dismissed.”

“Remember, no practice on Tuesday!” called Danger over the sound of scraping benches and chattering voices. “We won’t be meeting again until after Christmas, so enjoy your free time while you have it!”

xXxXx

Scream. Beat head on wall. Repeat.

Draco was having no luck at all with his Animagus spells. If he got the pronunciation right, he did the movement wrong – if he nailed the movement, the words came out garbled. He’d almost had it once, but it had been late and Moony’d had to send them all back to the Tower. Even Meghan had successfully transformed her leg into a deer’s delicate one and back by now, nearly three weeks after they’d begun work on the spells.

Why can’t I get this?

“Draco?”

He swung his head around. “What d’you want, Neville?” he said grumpily.

“I think you’re not choking up on your wand enough,” said Neville diffidently. “Just a guess, but it worked for me.”

Draco looked down at his wand. He was holding it rather close to the end.

It’s worth a try. He shortened his grip until he felt the back end of the wand pressing against his wrist. Then he touched the tip to his left leg, stroked it three times along the thigh and once along the calf, and said carefully, “Femur et sura vulpionis albatus. ”

With a strange tingling sensation, his leg shortened, changed shape, and sprouted a thick coat of white fur.

“Yes!” Draco punched the air triumphantly. “Got it!”

Moony hurried over. “Nice work,” he said, bending over Draco’s newly changed leg. “Wiggle your foot for me?”

Draco followed his Pack-father’s instructions, getting used to the different way this leg worked, even, carefully, putting a very little bit of his weight on it, just so he would know how it felt to use this sort of foot.

“Change it back, and you’re good to move on,” said Moony finally, sitting back.

“Reditio femur et sura, ” recited Draco, waving his wand in a circle around his leg, which lengthened with another curious tingling sensation. The fur shrank and vanished, and the leg reshaped itself into human form.

“Good work,” said Moony after he’d checked to be sure Draco’s leg was the way it had been before he’d tried the spell. “Now, do it three more times just that way.”

Draco groaned for form’s sake, but he didn’t actually mind.

I got it. I really got it. I’m not hopeless, I’m not stupid. I just have to keep working.

And not be too proud to accept help.

“Thanks, Neville,” he said over his shoulder.

“You’re welcome.”

xXxXx

He stood up slowly, easing his back. He liked working here. Weeds never snapped off in the ground just below the surface, or grew back bigger than before from just the one tiny shoot you’d missed. Plants thrived where you wanted them to, or if they didn’t, you knew why and could help them. There weren’t any nasty blights or diseases to worry about.

And, of course, she was usually here with him. He watched her, busily setting in the last of the transplants they’d raised together in the greenhouse from seed. It never seemed to be winter here, but it was never too hot either.

He wondered a little why they were the only ones who came here on a regular basis. Wouldn’t the rest want to come? They certainly seemed to like it during the parties they had in the summertime. And it was quiet here, unless you wanted it noisy. Very peaceful. A good place to rest and relax, and practice things.

“Come on,” she said, standing up and brushing the last of the dirt off her hands. “Let’s go try those spells again.”

“All right.” He started walking with her towards the castle. That was another nice thing – spells never rebounded or went wrong here. If you hadn’t done them right, they just wouldn’t work at all. And the others would watch and give them tips. It was how he’d known what to tell Draco, because Adam had told it to him the week before, and that was how he’d gotten the spell to work.

“Neville, come on! ” Meghan repeated, laughing. “We have to wake up sometime, you know!”

Laughing with her, Neville let her pull him faster across the lawn, until they were both running, and then floating, just touching the surface of the grass with their toes. It felt like flying, or like dancing, or like both, dancing through the air, as though they were made of nothing heavier than feathers or thistledown.

He never wanted to stop.

xXxXx

“Who will tell a story?” said Hermione at the late November den-night. “Who will remind us of what it means to be Pride?”

Harry waved his hand. “Not a story,” he said. “But I do have an announcement. We – that’s us four,” he indicated the cubs, “are staying here for the holidays.”

“We are?”

“Since when?”

“How do you know?

“Yes, since this afternoon, and Moony told me.”

“Why?” asked Hermione.

“Don’t know. He wouldn’t say. But he did say Padfoot and Letha are coming to stay too.”

“That’s odd,” said Draco. “If it’s something we all need to do, why can’t we do it at the Den?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe it’s something magical, something they can only do here. I don’t know.”

“Well, if you’re staying, I might as well,” said Ron. “I’ll still get my presents, and it’ll be two weeks away from the twins. They’re being right prats these days.”

“Me too,” said Ginny. “Mum always invites all our oldest relatives for Christmas dinner, and they always make a huge fuss over me because I’m the first Weasley girl in generations. It had to happen sometime, there’s no need to make a big deal over me just because I’m it.”

“You think you have relatives?” said Neville, grinning a little. “If Gran’ll let me stay, I will.”

“Moony mentioned you, actually,” said Harry, frowning in thought. “He said he’d written to your gran, and she was going to write to you.”

Neville looked surprised. “I wonder why.”

“Maybe what they’re doing has something to do with you,” Luna offered. “I think I’ll stay too, if you all are. You might need me.”

Draco laughed. “I don’t know about need,” he said. “But I like having you around.”

“Thank you. I like having you around too.”

xXxXx

Hermione hurried outside into a curtain of falling snow, tucking her red and gold scarf around her neck. “Wait for me!” she called after the boys, who were headed down to Hagrid’s for Care of Magical Creatures. “Wait up!”

“You hurry up,” Harry called back cheerfully. “Slowpoke!”

Hermione bent down and obtained a handful of snow without slowing, packed it just hard enough to stay together, and fired it off at the back of Harry’s head. It struck with a satisfying piff , making a neat white circle on his black hair.

“Oi!” Harry whirled around, snatched up a handful of snow of his own, and threw it at her. Hermione ducked, and it hit Pansy Parkinson, who had been just behind her. With a squeal of indignation, Pansy dropped her schoolbag and scooped up some snow.

Within a few seconds, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike had abandoned bags and books and were running about, firing missiles back and forth, shouting insults with them, only some of which were meant – it was getting towards Christmas, after all. The fight only stopped when Hagrid came out to see what was keeping his class.

“Had a couple o’the other professors set this up fer me,” he told them as he ushered them all inside a large tent, where Hermione gratefully shed her coat and scarf and set down her bag. “I’d planned on doin’ salamanders with yeh, but they won’ get here till next term, an’ I didn’ want anyone gettin’ sick so close ter the holidays. I’ll take yer homework now.”

Hermione rummaged in her bag and pulled out her essay – two feet on why it was important to preserve wild spaces for magical animals – and handed it to Hagrid, who collected the entire class’s scrolls in one hand, then set them aside. “Gather ‘round, now,” he said.

There was a large basin on the table near one end of the tent. The class approached it curiously. “Now don’t nobody make loud noises when yeh handle ‘em,” Hagrid warned. “They don’ like that.”

“What are they?” asked Dudley Dursley, staring with fascination at the ten or twelve gray-and-green mottled lobster-like creatures crawling about in the tub, which was filled with mossy rocks.

“Mackled Malaclaws,” proclaimed Hagrid, lifting one up for the class to look at. “Live down by the sea, on rocky beaches an’ the like. I’ve got their claws bound, but they might break the bindings – they do that if they’re startled – and if they give yeh a bite, or a pinch, yeh’ll have bad luck fer a week. So be careful with ‘em.”

Hermione moved forward and carefully slid her hands into the tub, picking up one of the Malaclaws. Its shell was hard and smooth and sleek, like fine china. It waved its antennae at her, but didn’t try to break the bands Hagrid had tied around its pincers.

Several other people were holding Malaclaws now. Hermione offered hers to Ron, who took it gingerly. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m not too keen to get a week’s bad luck.”

“That’s only if it pinches you,” said Hermione. “Just holding it won’t do anything. And it won’t pinch you unless it’s startled.”

“How do I know what startles an overgrown bug?”

“Hagrid said, Ron. Loud noises. And probably all the things that startle normal creatures, like getting hurt or being dropped.” Hermione looked around the tent. Harry and Neville were talking to Hagrid and watching the two Malaclaws that no one was holding scuttle over the rocks, Neville going so far as to stroke one of them gingerly. Lavender, Parvati, and Colleen were taking turns gingerly touching the shell of the one Dean was cradling as Draco handed his off to Seamus.

“How do I know if I’m hurting it?”

“Most things make a fuss if they’re being hurt.” Hermione looked at the Malaclaw, which was holding perfectly still in Ron’s hands. “I think you’re fine.”

“Yes, but what if–”

At the end of the tent, something exploded. Half the class shrieked as their Malaclaws suddenly thrashed in their hands, snapping the string tied around their pincers and lashing out. Ron roared in pain and let go of his Malaclaw, which dangled from his hand by one pincer. Hermione whipped out her wand. “Wingardium Leviosa! ”

The Malaclaw rose an inch or two, and Ron used his other hand to pry its claw off him. Hermione levitated it back to the tub of rocks and dropped it in. All around, the other students were following her example.

“Anyone who got bit, go on up ter the hospital wing,” said Hagrid gloomily as the last Malaclaw dropped onto the rocks. “Class dismissed, no homework.”

“Wait a second!” objected Theodore Nott. “We’re just supposed to leave? After someone sabotaged our class?”

“An’ what would yeh like me ter do?” asked Hagrid, rather sarcastically for him.

“At least have a look round! See what made that noise!”

The other Slytherins muttered agreement.

“If yeh insist,” said Hagrid with dignity, and went down to the other end of the tent, where everyone’s schoolbags lay in a pile. He bent down, then straightened and turned. “Here yeh are,” he said, holding something out to Nott. “Fireworks. Same as happened in Professor Snape’s class a month’r so ago.”

“And we know who did that,” said Nott, turning to stare at Harry. “Funny how Potter wasn’t holding one of those things when they went off.”

“I didn’t do anything!” said Harry angrily.

Nott snatched the remains of the bundle of fireworks from Hagrid and examined it. “They were Spellotaped together,” he said, showing them to the other Slytherins. “Probably spelled to go off at one end only, so they’d make more noise. And – look at this.”

“What is it?” “What?” “Is it important?” The Gryffindors, forgetting House pride, crowded closer.

“It’s a piece of parchment,” said Nott, peering at it in his hands, shouldering the other Slytherins away when they tried to look. “Looks like it was torn off an essay.”

Draco snorted. “You think someone tore the corner off their essay and stuck it under the Spellotape they put on the fireworks just so you could find it?” he asked sarcastically.

“How did you know it was a corner?” said Nott swiftly. “I never said it was a corner.”

“What else would it be?”

“It could have been an edge piece. Nothing said it had to be a corner. But you knew it was a corner.”

“What are you saying?”

Nott whirled and went to the table where Hagrid had set down the scrolls containing the class’s essays. He began to sort through them, unrolling them just far enough to see the names, then putting them aside. After about seven, he nodded and unrolled one all the way.

A piece was missing from the bottom corner of the scroll. Nott turned it around so that everyone could see the name signed at the top.

Draco Black.

Nott pulled the little corner of parchment free of the Spellotape and held it against the ripped corner of Draco’s essay. There was no doubt where it had come from.

“Very funny joke, Black,” he said coldly. “Getting half the class a week of bad luck. I notice you’d given yours to Finnegan just before these went off. And Potter and Granger-Lupin weren’t holding them, either. Did you tip them off before class, or did they take their chances with the rest of us?”

Draco stared at him, open-mouthed. Angry murmurs were running through the Slytherins. Even Seamus and Dean looked mad, Hermione noticed unhappily. Ron didn’t seem quite sure what to think.

“Get ter the hospital wing an’ get those bites seen ter,” rumbled Hagrid. “Go on, out. An’ don’t go spreadin’ gossip around the school. It spreads itself just fine.”

The class left in twos and threes, most of them glaring back at Draco as they went. Finally, the three cubs were alone with Hagrid.

“I didn’t do it,” said Draco fervently. “I swear I didn’t.”

“I never said yeh did,” said Hagrid, tucking the essays into his pocket and picking up the bin full of Malaclaws. “Someone run ahead an’ open the door fer me?”

Harry jogged out of the tent ahead of Hagrid. Hermione picked up her own schoolbag and his. “We know you didn’t,” she said to Draco. “Hagrid knows you didn’t. Don’t listen to Nott.”

“Easy for you to say. He’ll probably have told the whole school about it by dinner. And there’s nothing I can do.”

“There’s one thing,” said Hermione, leading the way out of the tent. “At least to the people who know you and were here, like Dean and Seamus.”

“What’s that?”

“You could point out how fast Nott figured everything out. And how pat it all was. Like he’d practiced it beforehand.”

Draco groaned. “I’m such an idiot. He did this, didn’t he? Set it up, and framed it on me?”

“I can’t think of any other way it could have happened. Was your essay torn like that when you finished it?”

“I don’t have a perfect memory like you do, Neenie.”

Hermione flicked him on the ear. “Just try to remember.”

Draco squinted at Hagrid’s hut, looming up out of the falling snow. “No. I don’t think it was. I don’t remember it being ripped or messy when I rolled it up last night.”

“Maybe Nott got to it during the snowball fight, then,” Hermione suggested as Fang came bounding up to them. “Took it out, ripped off that corner, stuck it on, and put it away again... wait!”

“What?”

“I know a way we can find out!” Hermione sped up the steps and in through the door Harry was still holding open. “Hagrid, can I see Draco’s essay?”

“In my coat pocket,” said Hagrid, waving a hand at the moleskin overcoat draped across the big armchair. Hermione rummaged in the pockets, coming up with two broken quills, a small corked potion bottle, a few pebbles with scorch marks on them, and finally the parchment scrolls. She unrolled them as Nott had done and finally found Draco’s, unrolling it all the way.

“I was right,” she said, smiling with satisfaction. “Come here, look, quick.”

“What is it?” asked Harry, frowning at the tiny, circular blotches that covered the surface of the essay. “It almost looks like someone cried on it.”

“Maybe you cry over homework, but I don’t,” said Draco sarcastically.

“Stop it,” said Hermione. “You’re almost right, Harry. It’s wet spots, but not from tears. From snowflakes. Nott had it unrolled outside before class started, and it’s been snowing all day. Snowflakes landed on it and made these spots.”

“We should tell people,” said Harry. “This proves Nott did it, not you, Draco.”

“Don’t bother,” Draco said, turning away. “They won’t listen to you.”

“How do you know, if we haven’t even tried yet?”

“Trust me. They won’t listen. You’re my brother and sister, you’d defend me no matter what. So don’t even bother trying. Just let it run its course and die. Everyone’ll have the holidays to forget about it.”

The teakettle whistled. Hagrid took it off the fire and filled the teapot. “If yeh ask me,” he said casually, “someone seems ter have a grudge against yeh, Draco. What’s this now, the second time someone’s made trouble in class and yeh took the blame?”

“Third,” said Harry suddenly. “It’s the third time, Hagrid. That firework in Snape’s class, whoever threw it was aiming for Draco’s cauldron.”

“Why would I throw a firework in my own cauldron, though?” protested Draco as he sat down at the table and accepted a mug of tea. “No one would believe that.”

“Unless someone claimed you were trying to make people think you’d never do that,” said Hermione with a sigh, sitting down opposite her brother. “So that you’d done it in a way to make people think you hadn’t done it. That’s probably what they’d say if we pointed out how stupid it would be for you to have stuck a piece of your own essay to the fireworks, too.”

Harry groaned. “It’s as bad as iocaine powder,” he said, making Draco and Hermione both laugh.

“I’ll speak with Professor Dumbledore,” said Hagrid, bringing a plate of fudge and the sugar bowl to the table. “There won’ be trouble fer this, Draco, don’t yeh worry.”

“I won’t,” said Draco with a sigh. “Or at least I’ll try not to.”

“You will,” said Hermione with certainty.

“It would be a shame if he didn’t,” said Harry. “He’s so good at it.”

Draco dropped a piece of fudge into Harry’s tea.

xXxXx

Remus did his part to quell the rumors which flew about Draco’s supposed sabotage of the Care of Magical Creatures class, quietly, of course, since the last thing they needed was a charge of nepotism. Luckily, both Ron and Neville were skeptical about the idea that Draco had set the fireworks and perfectly willing to be convinced by Hermione and Harry’s arguments. Both bore their week of bad luck stoically, rather more so than Dean and Seamus or the Slytherins who had been bitten. Remus was careful not to assign anything dangerous in Defense Against the Dark Arts for that week.

The rumors had almost died away by the last Saturday of term, which was another Hogsmeade day. Danger accompanied Remus and the Pride to Hogsmeade, so that everyone could get their Christmas shopping done. There were many cheerful shouts of “Don’t peek!” and “Nobody look!” as small groups of people dashed in and out of aisles, clutching items to their chests.

Ron and Draco both took a little longer than the others, since they had Ginny’s and Luna’s lists respectively as well as their own. Draco ended up with a huge bundle of packages to carry, and finally handed them off to Hermione for a moment and asked Remus for permission to do a spell. When it was granted, he shot a bright blue streak of light from his wand towards the castle, dimly visible through the falling snow.

Within a few minutes, Morpheus was settling on his master’s wrist. “Summoning Spell,” said Draco happily as the rest of the Pride applauded him. “Here you go, boy. Leave ‘em on my bed, please?”

The owl hooted, then fluttered down onto the string holding the bundles together and flapped his wings hard for takeoff. The packages weren’t heavy, Remus knew, only bulky, or he would have gotten an owl or two from the post office to help Morpheus.

The Pride watched until the dark owl disappeared amid the swirling snow. Finally, Hermione shivered. “Let’s have some hot butterbeer,” she said. “I’m freezing.”

This was decided to be a good idea, and the Pride and professors trooped into the Three Broomsticks. It was quite full. Several people called cheerful greetings to them as they entered, and a trio of Hufflepuffs vacated their table to make room for the group, moving over to sit with a pair of Ravenclaws.

“Here’s to a good holiday,” said Draco, raising his mug.

“To Dadfoot and Mama Letha coming to stay,” added Meghan.

“To having the castle practically to ourselves,” toasted Hermione.

“To Christmas presents,” said Harry, grinning at Remus, who lifted his mug in reply. A deal was a deal, and it hadn’t been Harry’s fault he’d fallen from his broomstick, after all.

“To Ravenclaw beating Hufflepuff well enough to put us back in the running,” was Ron’s contribution.

“Here, here,” chimed everyone, and drank to all the various toasts.

“Professor Lupin?” said Neville after taking a sip of his butterbeer.

“What’s on your mind, Neville?”

“Is there some reason everyone is staying at Hogwarts for the holidays? Well, not everyone, but us?”

Remus looked at Danger. Do you think we should tell them now?

Danger checked her watch. We’re due back at the castle in half an hour. Why don’t we wait until later, and tell them all at once, and in private?

Sounds like a plan. “Yes, there is a reason,” said Remus aloud. “But it’s not something we should be talking about in public. When we get back to the castle, after dinner, we’ll let you know.”

xXxXx

After dinner, the Pride gathered in the Defense teacher’s office.

“You all know, I’m sure, what Mrs. Freeman-Black has been working on this fall,” Remus began, leaning forward on his desk. Everyone nodded, Neville suddenly looking very interested indeed. “What you may not know is that she’s successfully completed the potion. They’ve run the standard tests on it to be sure it’s not toxic, and it checks out. They plan to administer it tonight.”

Meghan made an excited sound and pressed Neville’s hand. Neville had gone very pale, and was looking at Remus oddly.

“But we think there might be something else needed,” said Danger from beside Remus. “Something besides just the potion, to effect a full recovery. Actually, we’re almost sure of it.” She took the sheet of parchment from her pocket where she had written the relevant lines from her dream at the beginning of the summer. “You all know about my dreams, and where they come from. This is from one of them.”

Hermione took the parchment and read the lines aloud.

The badger’s son, his lady bright,

Both wander now in endless night,

And from that night they must be freed.

The eagle’s daughter help shall need;

From badger’s younger son, whose heart

From hers shall ne’er be torn apart;

And from the other lions young,

The help of hand and voice and tongue.

“Young lions is the Pride,” said Remus into the silence. “At least, so we assume. We know Meghan is the eagle’s daughter. What we’re not sure about is the badger’s son. But we have a guess.”

“Someone whose heart is joined to Meghan’s,” said Danger. “And someone who seems, from the way the poetry is set up, to be related to the people we’re trying to help.”

Harry made a faintly disbelieving noise, and Draco rolled his eyes towards Neville. “Agreed,” said Remus. “That in itself wasn’t so hard. What made us doubt it was the way it was put. Meghan’s been referred to in the poems before in other ways. Calling her ‘eagle’s daughter’ seems to be meant to bring our attention to the fact that she’s a blood Heir, and to suggest that the person referred to as ‘badger’s son’ might also be a blood Heir.”

Everyone looked at Neville. Neville looked shocked. “M-me? A b-blood Heir? Of who?”

“Being the badger’s son would make you Hufflepuff’s Heir,” said Danger. “And I have to admit, it does seem to fit you. Your father was a Hufflepuff, wasn’t he?”

Neville nodded dumbly.

“You love plants,” said Harry. “You’re the best in the year in Herbology.”

“You’re always worried about making sure everything is fair,” said Hermione.

“And people look right past Hufflepuffs, like they aren’t even there,” said Draco. “Because they seem like the ‘everybody else’ House, without any really good qualities of their own. Maybe that’s why you can disappear.”

“You’re going to be a demiguise Animagus,” put in Ron. “Demiguises can go invisible, that’s where Invisibility Cloaks come from.”

Neville stared at his hands, then back up at Remus and Danger. “Would – does this – I mean, do I have to be a Hufflepuff now?”

“I doubt it,” said Danger. “The Sorting Hat would have known, even if you didn’t. And it put you in Gryffindor, nonetheless. You certainly seem to belong there, from the way you keep up with these lunatics.” She waved at the cubs.

“There is something we can do to test it, though,” said Remus, turning around to get the thing he’d brought to his office for just this purpose. “Here.”

He set the potted plant on the table. Neville came over to it, looking at it closely. “Say hello to it,” Remus instructed. “Like you would if it was yours, if you’d just bought it, or been given it as a gift.”

Neville twined his fingers around the plant’s stems, rubbed its leaves and sniffed his fingers, crumbled a little of the dirt it was planted in. The Pride drew around the desk to watch, sensing an event in the making.

“What is it?” asked Danger quietly.

“It’s lavender,” said Neville, frowning. “I think. It doesn’t smell quite right. Is it a hybrid?”

Remus nodded. “A new type,” he said. “It’s just come out. Can you tell what it was cross-bred with?”

Neville sniffed the leaves again, then shook his head. “Not without smelling the flowers, no.”

“Then why don’t you smell the flowers?” asked Danger.

Neville looked at her in a way that would have been accompanied by a smart comment, had he been any of the other boys of the Pride. “There aren’t any,” he said, his tone halfway between respectful and worried for her sanity.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s the wrong season. Lavender flowers in the summer, and it’s coming on winter now.”

“But this plant lives indoors. It could flower now, nothing bad would happen to it.”

“Would you like to find out what it was bred with?” asked Remus before Neville could answer Danger.

“Yes, but...”

“No buts.”

Neville looked from one of them to the other, then sighed and turned back to the plant. Meghan drew near and laid a hand on his wrist, pulling his sleeve back to do it.

Hermione and Ginny gasped as the lavender suddenly moved, straightening up, becoming a brighter shade of green. Neville had one hand gently clasped around the bush of the leaves at the bottom and was staring at the plant with an absent sort of concentration.

You were right, Remus told Danger as buds swelled at the top of the newly lengthened stems. All he needed was some incentive.

The buds burst open, revealing clusters of small purple flowers streaked with white. A sweet fragrance filled the room. Luna licked her lips. “Vanilla,” she said.

“Vanilla,” Neville repeated, looking up from the plant. “They cross-bred lavender with vanilla orchids?”

“Very experimental work,” said Danger. “They weren’t even sure it would turn out. But it did. I believe they’re trying for a vanilla rose next.”

Neville blinked, and seemed to see the lavender flowers for the first time. “Did I do that?”

“The hereditary power of the Hufflepuff line is with plants,” said Remus. “I can’t think of anyone else in this room who could have done it.”

“But – I don’t even know what I did!”

“You wanted it,” said Danger. “You wanted the plant to bloom, and it did. Just like you want your garden to grow, and the plants you tend in Herbology to thrive. So they do.”

Neville looked astounded and thrilled. “I – I really am. I really am an Heir. Just like Meghan. We’re both...” He trailed off. “That’s why,” he said, as if to himself. “That’s why we go there.”

Remus felt a mild curiosity about this, but let it pass. “Congratulations,” he said instead, offering Neville his hand. “I’m sure your parents will be very proud of you.”

Neville shook his hand, beaming.

“Now, about that,” said Danger. “If we’re reading the poem correctly, the potion which Mrs. Freeman-Black made will help the Longbottoms. But Meghan is going to have to finish their healing herself. You lot are involved somehow, but how, I have no idea...”

Hermione put up her hand as if she were in class. “Meghan did something,” she said when Remus pointed to her. “When Neville was looking at the plant. She touched him, and just after she did, the plant started growing. It was like she gave him extra power.”

“But she’ll be the one who needs extra power when she’s healing,” said Ron. “Otherwise she’ll have to stay in bed for two months again.”

“So maybe they can do it the other way around,” said Draco. “Maybe Neville can help Meghan heal.”

“What do you think?” Remus asked the two in question. They looked at each other and shrugged.

“Can I see that?” said Harry, pointing to the parchment Hermione was still holding. She passed it over to Harry, who skimmed it. “And from the other lions young, The help of hand and voice and tongue, ” he read out. “If Meghan’s going to go really deep into healing on purpose, maybe what we have to do is give her a way back.”

“A way back?” asked Ginny.

“You remember when Meghan first healed me, when I was hurt so badly at the Quidditch match? We were in a room that had a lot of corridors leading out of it, and we couldn’t tell which one led back to the real world, until we heard the music.”

“That’s right!” Draco sat up straighter. “When we sang for you! You said you heard us, and you felt stronger, and you followed our voices home!”

“So that’s what we’re supposed to do,” said Harry, slapping the parchment in triumph. “We’re supposed to keep Meghan strong, and show her the way home. With music, the way you did for us that first time.”

“Don’t celebrate yet,” said Danger over the sounds of impending cheers. “There’s still one important question to ask.” She looked at Meghan. “Are you willing to do this? The only thing we know about it for certain is that it’s not going to be easy. We have no idea what you’ll face, or if you can even do it at all. Are you willing to try?”

Meghan looked at the parchment in Harry’s hand, at Neville, whose hand she was still holding, then back at Danger, and nodded. “I’ll do it,” she said, lifting her head. “When can we start?”

“That depends on you,” said Remus. “And to some extent on all of you. Do you want to try this before Christmas Day, or after? I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to have Christmas first, since this may steal a lot of your energy – if you try it before Christmas, it’s entirely possible you’ll sleep through the day.”

“Our presents won’t go bad,” said Ginny firmly. “And the house-elves love making feasts, they won’t mind if they have to cook us a separate Christmas dinner. It would be wrong of us to make Neville wait to see his parents again just because we wanted to have our holiday first.”

Neville walked over to Ginny and hugged her tightly, tears starting to leak from his eyes.

Harry had been communing silently with the rest of the Pride. Now he looked at Remus. “How soon can we do it?” he asked.

Remus picked up Aletha’s letter and ran his eyes down through it, finding the paragraph he wanted. “The Healers want to wait three days after the potion’s administered to make sure the Longbottoms are stable,” he said. “After that, probably a day to bring them here and make sure they’re comfortable, and to get set up.”

Harry frowned in thought. “So Thursday’s the earliest day we could do it, if they give them the potion tonight.”

“Yes.”

Another quick poll by eye contact, and Harry nodded. “Thursday’s fine.”

He sounds like he’s setting up a lunch appointment, Danger noted.

Remus was able to keep his face straight until the Pride had left the office.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 11: In the Midst (Year 3)


Chapter 11: In the Midst

“Would you come sit down? You’re driving me crazy.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, I’m not driving you crazy. You already are crazy.”

“I am?”

“Yes, of course you are. Only a crazy person would be friends with me.”

“I think my brothers are rubbing off on you.”

“Why would you think that? We’ve only been friends for two and a half years, shared a dormitory, had adventures together. Why would you ever think that they’d rub off on me?”

“Maybe because it’s true?” Meghan got out of her chair and walked over to Neville, planting herself in the middle of his pacing path, arms crossed. “Stop,” she said firmly. “You’re just making it worse. I know you’re nervous about Thursday, but so am I. So are we all.”

“Not like me. You... none of you have as much riding on this. If it doesn’t work, then it just doesn’t work. For me...”

Meghan nodded. “I know. I understand.”

“Do you? Do you really? Have you ever been waiting to see what would happen to your parents, just having to wait and wait, and knowing that when you can do something, if you do anything wrong, you might never see them again?”

“Yes.”

Neville stopped, taken aback. “Y-you have?”

“The night before Dadfoot’s trial. We knew we had Wormtail, but we weren’t sure if we could convince anyone else we did. We weren’t even sure they’d let us into the courtroom. And I had to stay behind to keep Mrs. Weasley busy while everyone else went ahead. It was only because Aunt Amy came that I was able to be there at all.” She put a hand on Neville’s elbow and tugged him towards a chair. “It’s not quite the same, but I do understand a little bit.”

Neville let himself be tugged. “It’s… it’s just… what if we do something wrong? What if we make them worse, or even kill them?” He shook his head, sitting down with a plop. “I don’t know what I’d do if we did.”

“So stop worrying about it. We won’t kill them, we won’t make them worse. We will make them better, and then we’ll get to use this. Give me a hand with it?”

Neville looked sidewise at Meghan. “Has anyone ever told you you’re much too cheerful about things?”

“All the time. Will you please help me with this?”

“Persistent, too.” Neville turned to the table. “What do you need help with?”

“We’ve got everything set up in the right order. Now we need to write about each one. Explain it, say who and when and where. You know that, I don’t.”

“All right.” Neville pulled a sheet of plastic towards him. “Let’s start at the beginning, then.”

xXxXx

Hermione knew the signals which meant the boys had done as much homework as they could stand for the time being. Ron started to fidget, drumming his fingers on the table in complicated patterns. Draco whistled under his breath while he read. Harry doodled in his margins in between writing sentences for an essay, then stopped writing altogether in favor of the Quidditch scene taking shape under his quill.

“All right, that’s enough,” she finally said in exasperation. All three boys looked up at her with identical expressions. It was very much like Padfoot looking at food.

I think it must be genetic. Something on the Y chromosome.

“You’re not going to get any more work done today. Go do something else for a while.”

“Yessss,” hissed Harry, catapulting out of his chair. Ron rolled up his parchment and stuffed it into his bag, grinning, as Draco capped their inkbottles with his wand and swept them and the quills into his own bag. Within thirty seconds, Hermione was alone in the common room.

“Full time job, that, isn’t it?” asked a voice from the girls’ stairs.

“Oh, hello, Ginny. What is?”

“Keeping track of the boys like that. Getting them to do their work, making sure they don’t slack.” Ginny came down the rest of the stairs. “It looks like a lot of work for you. Why do you do it?”

Hermione sighed, closing her book. “I don’t know. They really should do it themselves, but we’ve just gotten into the habit of me helping them along.”

“It looks more like you pushing them along from here. Would they even do their work if you didn’t tell them to?”

“Oh, they’d do it. It’s just that they’d do it the night before it’s due, it’d be sloppy and not very good, and they wouldn’t understand half of it. At least this way they’re learning something, even if I do have to beat it into them.”

Ginny smiled. “Mum says the same thing about getting them to do their chores. I suppose that’s what girls are for, really. Beating sense into boys.”

Hermione nodded. “And boys are for annoying the life out of girls.”

“And we’re good at it, too,” said Draco, thumping down the stairs in his snow gear. “We’re going out to build snowmen. Want to come?”

“I’ll go get Luna,” said Ginny, hurrying back up the stairs.

Hermione hesitated a moment, looking at her full schoolbag, before the prospect of all that lovely snow won her over. “Let me get dressed.”

“We’ll wait for you.”

xXxXx

Remus stepped out of the fireplace in the kitchens, set down his two bags filled with packages, and turned back to the fire in time to catch Danger as she fell out of it. I think we need to get your balance checked.

My balance is fine. Or it would be if I hadn’t just been spinning like an insane top and inhaled a mouthful of ashes along the way. Danger coughed several times, took the glass of water a house-elf handed her, rinsed her mouth and spat into the bowl another house-elf held up. “Ugh,” she said aloud. “Thank you.”

The house-elves nodded and scurried away. Danger bent to pick up one of the bags. “So what’s on the agenda for the rest of today?”

“Getting these somewhere the cubs won’t find them, wrapping the ones we didn’t get wrapped at the stores, and getting ready for the Longbottoms. They’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

“Right.” Danger took a step toward the door out of the kitchens, then stopped. “Shouldn’t go out there right now, should I?”

“All these years it’s taken you to learn how to think strategically. Dobby!”

“Yes, sir?” The clothed house-elf appeared before Remus with a crack.

“Can you tell me where the children are, please?”

“Master Neville and Mistress Meghan is in the library, sir, and all the rest has gone out to play in the snow. Master Remus can take presents to his office safely, no one is watching.”

“Thank you, Dobby.” Remus picked up the remaining two bags. I’m not sure I want to know how he does that.

He’s a Hogwarts house-elf. The castle might have told him.

You think the castle is self-aware?

Possibly in some way. Magical people have been living and working here for over a thousand years. Albus told us there’s magic here that the Heirs can use. But there haven’t been any Heirs – at least not any that knew about themselves and used the magic – for a long time. What do you think all that magic would do, just sitting here?

Play solitaire?

Danger burst into laughter. Remus John Lupin, you are terrible.

You’re only figuring that out now?

xXxXx

Later that day, the flames in the kitchen fireplace turned green once more, and first Aletha, then Sirius stepped out of them, both carrying overnight bags in one hand and bags of presents in the other. Sirius set his bags down and shook his head, sending ashes flying everywhere. “Good to be back,” he said.

The door to the kitchen opened, and Danger flew in, running straight to Aletha and hugging her hard, then repeating the process with Sirius, squealing as he lifted her off the ground and spun her around once. “Sirius! Put me down! ”

“All right. You’re ugly, you’re stupid, and you can’t do magic to save your life.”

Danger boxed his right ear, Aletha his left.

“Ow.”

“You asked for it,” said Aletha, picking up her bags. “What news, Danger?”

“Remus is upstairs in the Owlery, waiting for a delivery. The cubs are various places, you’ll see them at dinner if not before. You?”

“We saw Gerald off at the station yesterday. He’ll be back before the New Year to spend some time with Luna, but he’s just as happy she’s spending Christmas with us. He wants to try and get photographs of the Welsh Christmas Fairy Dance.”

“Apparently, Welsh fairies have special dances for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day,” said Sirius as they emerged into the entrance hall. “Gerald would like to observe them and see how they differ. And he’s never been able to get away at the holidays before this. So this was actually a bit of a boon for him.”

“Molly and Arthur?”

“I think Molly’s got her hands full right now,” said Aletha. “Charlie and Tonks are there.”

“How is Tonks doing?”

“A little better, but still not good,” said Sirius. “I think it’s going to take a while.”

“I can’t imagine why,” said Danger with an excess of sarcasm in her tone.

“And just to add to the Christmas cheer, Percy’s not speaking to Fred and George,” said Aletha. “Something to do with a malfunctioning wand…”

“Oh, that.” Danger snickered. “It was our last Combat Club practice. Obviously, you can hurt yourself with a misfired spell just as badly as you can hurt someone else, so we still count it as a wound or a kill if it’s your own color you get covered in. Fred and George rigged Percy’s wand to backfire, so Percy killed himself the first time he tried to shoot at someone else.”

Sirius sighed. “I pray we never do really get into a war,” he said. “That kind of thing isn’t funny when it’s your life on the line, not just a little pride and a few House points.”

“They’re only fifteen,” said Aletha. “A lot of people do stupid things when they’re fifteen. Case in point.” She shoved her husband just a little harder than was necessary.

“Oy, I never did anything that stupid when I was fifteen.”

“No, you waited until you were sixteen,” said Danger, knocking in a pattern on a hallway door, which opened for her. “Here, this one’s yours. Three times on the upper left panel, twice on the lower right, once on the upper right.”

“Lay off, Danger, it’s bad enough Snivel – Snape hasn’t forgiven me for that. I did apologize.”

“And promptly started playing pranks on him every chance you got,” said Aletha, setting her bags on the bed.

“It’s not like you tried to stop me.”

“It’s not like you ever told me.”

“What, I need to tell you now? Take out an advert in the Daily Prophet – I, Sirius Black, will now commence playing pranks? ”

“Commence? When did you ever stop?”

“My point exactly.”

“His point?” Danger looked at Aletha. “He has a point?”

“Well, not much of one,” said Aletha, grinning wickedly. “And not often.”

Sirius turned the approximate color of the Gryffindor crest hanging on the wall.

xXxXx

Neville drew a deep breath with some difficulty. His bed felt odd. There was a cushiony wall on one side of him, his pillow was much harder than it usually was, and something warm and heavy was lying against him and partly on him, which accounted for the weight on his chest.

He opened his eyes. He wasn’t in his bed – he was lying on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room, his head on the arm, his hand pressed against one side of it, and Meghan lying next to him, both of them still in their day robes.

A slight shock ran through him as he remembered. Today. Today’s the day it starts.

His parents were being transferred from St. Mungo’s to a special suite here at Hogwarts today. Tomorrow, if everything went all right – please, please let it go all right , he prayed to whoever might be listening – tomorrow, the Pride would have a chance to try healing them.

And I couldn’t sleep last night because I was so nervous about seeing them today, after they took that potion Mrs. Letha made. I guess I fell asleep here and no one wanted to move me.

I have to get up. I need to see them. I have to see if they’re all right.

Carefully, he slid over the back of the sofa, leaving Meghan alone on it, and climbed out through the portrait hole. A check of his watch told him it was just past nine-thirty.

I don’t really know what time they were supposed to come, but I know they’re coming so they get comfortable here before we... do whatever we’re doing tomorrow. So the Healers would probably want them here early.

He trotted down a flight of stairs, stepping carefully over the vanishing one, and tapped three times on the wall at the bottom. It vanished, allowing him entrance into a secret passage which would bring him practically to the door of the suite where his parents would be staying.

Although he knew from past experience that the Pack-parents could see through his illusions, he began his litany anyway. If they weren’t there, being unnoticeable would give him an opportunity to look around without being shooed away like an inconvenient bug. If they were there...

If they’re there, they won’t send me away. Or if they do, it won’t be just because I’m a little boy and I’m in the way.

That was one reason he liked the Blacks and the Lupins. They treated him like a person, an intelligent person. They did their best to explain things, and if there was something they couldn’t tell him, or the rest of the Pride, they said so straight out, and gave a decent reason for it, rather than “you’re too young” or “you’ll understand someday.”

That’s part of the reason I was so happy to spend the summer at their house. Gran still treats me like a three-year-old a lot of the time. He made a face as he pushed aside the tapestry screening the exit to the passage. She talks about me like I’m not there, and when she does notice me, it’s always something like “Oh, isn’t that right, Neville dear?” Baby talk. But I’m not a baby anymore.

Someone coughed. Neville jumped and turned to his right. Mrs. Letha stood in the corridor outside the door of the suite he wanted, looking carefully over his head. “If I saw anyone here,” she said quietly, “I’d tell them to come on in for a minute or two, but not to stay very long, and that it would probably be better if they stayed hidden for that time. The people in these rooms are very unsure of everything right now, and the fewer new things they have to deal with, the better.”

Neville waited until her eyes flickered down and across him, then nodded. Mrs. Letha smiled slightly and pulled the door of the suite open. Neville ducked under her arm and slid inside the door.

The suite seemed to have at least three rooms, since Neville saw two separate doors leading from the room he was in. This first room that he had come into was fitted out like a living room, with a sofa and several armchairs.

One armchair and the sofa were occupied.

Neville felt the familiar twist in his insides that came whenever he looked at his parents. Guilt was part of it, and fear, but more and more it was anger that predominated. This should never have happened. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair .

But tomorrow, we get a chance to make it right again.

His mother lay on the sofa, asleep. Someone had combed her white hair and pulled it back from her face, and she was dressed in a simple robe with flowers printed on it. That alone made him feel a little better. He knew from pictures and stories that she had loved dressing up and making herself beautiful for dances and nights out with his father. It always hurt him to see her in the ugly hospital gowns.

She’ll love Meghan. They can talk about clothes all night.

His father was sitting in the armchair, staring at the opposite wall. He wore a robe in a muted yellow, and his hair was likewise combed neatly. Neville wanted to get closer, even to touch the man, but knew it was a bad idea.

Mrs. Letha said to stay hidden so I don’t frighten them. Someone touching him who he can’t see would frighten him a lot!

But even as he thought that, Neville noticed a tickle inside his nose. Uh-oh. He couldn’t remember if he’d done anything about sound or not – he didn’t think he had – and there wasn’t any time now, he was going to –

“Achoo ! ”

Frank jumped and fixated on the sound. Neville flinched. “Sorry,” he whispered to Mrs. Letha.

“No, it’s all right,” she said calmly. “Let’s see what happens.” She turned her attention to his father. “Hello, Frank,” she said, walking over to him. “Did that startle you? It certainly did me. Are you feeling all right?”

His father ignored her. He was looking toward Neville, as he so often did when Neville came to visit – but this time was different. Every time he’d seen his father before this, his father’s eyes had been fixed on some point beyond him, as though he were transparent and something on the wall behind him was fascinating. But not this time.

This time, his father was looking directly at him.

But – he can’t see me. He shouldn’t be able to. I’m hidden.

But I think he can...

His father’s hand was coming up from its place on the arm of the chair now – it was making a shape, index finger out, the rest of it curled up loosely –

He’s pointing at me. He does see me!

“Do you see something over there you want?” Mrs. Letha asked quietly.

Frank Longbottom lowered his hand to the chair and began to rock slowly back and forth, his face tight in concentration, his lips pressed together. As the rocking increased in speed, sound began to escape from him. Every forward rock brought another muffled explosion. “B – b – b–”

Neville held his breath.

“Boy!”

Mrs. Letha was still facing his father, but the set of her shoulders seemed to indicate that she was feeling quite good. “Yes, there’s a boy there. He’s your boy, Neville.” Her hand rose behind her back and beckoned Neville closer. “He’s here to see you.”

Neville walked slowly across the room. Every step seemed to take a year, but he didn’t care. His father wanted to see him. His father could see him, and was watching him intently, tracking his progress across the room, leaning forward a little in what looked like eagerness –

He stopped in front of the man. What do I say?

Mrs. Letha gave him a gentle nod, encouragement, he guessed. “Er, h-hi, Dad,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s... good to see you.”

His father’s hand lifted again from where it had been resting, but bypassed Neville’s outstretched one, rising shakily higher and higher, until it landed firmly on Neville’s shoulder. A smile blossomed on his father’s face.

“Go on,” said Mrs. Letha softly, motioning Neville’s hand higher. “You do it back.”

Neville felt a smile begin on his own face to match his father’s as he put his hand carefully on the man’s shoulder. They stayed like that for several long moments before Frank pulled away, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

“He gets tired easily,” said Mrs. Letha. “They both do. It’s a side effect of the potion. But you can see how well it’s worked so far, if I do say so myself.”

Neville nodded. The smile hadn’t found its way off his face yet. In fact, from the way he was feeling, it might well be there permanently.

“You’d best head back to the Tower before someone wakes up and gets worried because you’re not there,” Mrs. Letha said. “They’re settling in well here. We’ll have more news as the day goes on.”

“Can I just... maybe... could I say hi to Mum? I won’t wake her, I promise.”

“Go ahead.”

Neville turned to his mother, still asleep on the sofa, and extended his hand until it almost touched her, then suddenly thought better of it. He raised his hand to his own cheek and stroked two fingers down it, then touched them softly to her cheek.

“I can tell you what that’s called tomorrow,” he told her. “And what it means, and where I learned it, and everything. You’ll see. You’ll see, tomorrow.”

To his delight, his mum smiled in her sleep. Neville felt his own smile widening and becoming shaky at the same time.

I can’t cry. Not now, not here. It won’t make tomorrow come any faster.

But he knew, deep down inside him, that today was going to be the longest day in the history of the world.

xXxXx

“I’m telling you, they responded to his presence,” Aletha repeated, wishing, for more reasons than one, that Andromeda could be there.

This was her work first. She deserves to see how well it came out. But she would also be a friendly face here. Completely without meaning to, I’ve managed to alienate at least half the senior Healing staff at St. Mungo’s...

Well, not completely without meaning to. I couldn’t live with Sirius so long and not be good at deflating egos, and a few of these were overdue...

“That’s impossible,” said the senior Healer in charge of the Longbottoms’ case flatly. “I personally worked on these cases for six months, and they responded in the same way to all stimuli of a certain kind – that is, they could not differentiate between people. It is hardly likely that one treatment could change that.”

If it’s the right treatment, it can. And just how long ago were these six months of yours, I wonder? “Be that as it may, Healer Young, the patients did respond positively to their son’s presence. Frank actually spoke – he didn’t identify the boy by name, but he did notice that there was a boy in the room, and he reached out to make contact with him. And Alice smiled in her sleep when Neville spoke to her.”

“We’ll pass over for the moment what you claim the patients did, Trainee...”

Is there any way you could make that “Trainee” sound more like “wet-behind-the-ears fumbler”?

“And focus just a little on how their son gained access to them, when I distinctly understood that all the students had gone home for the holidays.”

“Not all the students, sir. Most of them have gone home, but Neville has special permission from his grandmother to stay here for the holidays, and several of his friends have decided to bear him company.”

“I see. And why, exactly, would the boy want to stay here for the holidays instead of going home?”

“Because he had been informed by St. Mungo’s that his parents’ treatment had been altered, and because I felt he deserved to be nearby if the new treatments bore fruit. Not to mention that he’s probably the first person Frank and Alice would want to see if they did recover.”

You’d probably have a litter of kittens if I told you the real reason he has to be here – that he’s going to be instrumental in the treatment, second only to my ten-year-old daughter…

Healer Albertus Young nodded, his expression still a little sour. “I see. Very well. Keep me informed, then, Trainee.”

He swept out of the room. Aletha counted a slow twenty before falling onto her chair and succumbing to helpless laughter.

It’s better than having a screaming fit, which was the other option available to me at the moment.

xXxXx

“What are we actually going to do?” Neville asked Meghan that night, sitting by the fire with her. “I mean, when you heal them?”

Meghan shook her head. “I don’t know. I know what it was like when I healed Harry, but you know that too. It might be like that, but it might be different.”

“But you think it will be like that, like going to another place?”

Meghan shrugged. “I really don’t know. But I guess it might.” She reached over and laid her hand over his. “We’ll do it, Neville. We’ll get them back. I promise.”

Neville smiled at her and turned his hand over to hold hers. “I believe you.”

xXxXx

The next morning, they gathered, preparing.

The Longbottoms were still sleeping, natural sleep instead of magically induced, since Aletha didn’t want any other magic interfering with what Meghan would be trying to do. Experiments over the year Meghan had known about her power showed that she and the person she was healing both often fell into a trance-like state – the greater the injury, the deeper the trance.

So by the time we start making our music, the Longbottoms will be in trance, so we won’t wake them up. Harry looked around the room. Draco held his flute, and Ron and Hermione carried small hand drums. Luna and Ginny were beside the piano someone had conjured in the bedroom. Neville was leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on his parents, and Meghan was walking around the room, looking at the walls, the ceiling and floor, and the twin bed where the Longbottoms lay side by side.

Finally Meghan turned to Letha, the only adult currently in the room. The other Pack-parents had wished them well over breakfast before Moony escorted them up here. “We need eight chairs,” she said quietly. “One here, where I am, and one on the other side of the bed in the same place. Then the other six in a half-circle around the bottom of the bed like this.” She swept her hand in an arc.

“Hold on, then,” said Letha, and began to flick her wand towards the places Meghan had indicated, conjuring chairs there. “Correct?”

Meghan nodded.

“Well, then, good luck to you.” Letha shook hands with Ron and Neville, embraced Ginny and Luna briefly, and gave all four of the cubs full hugs. “I love you all.”

She left the room, closing the door behind her. Harry swallowed, and felt his ears pop. This is it. This is where we show what we’ve got.

“Everybody come sit down,” Meghan said quietly. “Harry, you’re over here with me. Ginny, next to him, then Ron, then Hermione and Draco, and Luna, you’re behind Neville.”

The Pride took their indicated seats quietly. The feeling of pressure in the room was increasing, Harry noticed, swallowing again. It was as if a whole crowd of people were watching them, waiting for them to do something, for them to start something.

And thanks to Luna, I know what to do to get it started… He dug in his pocket and pulled out the parchment Luna had given him that morning. Hermione made a little sound and did the same.

“In the name of the Pride, I convene this gathering,” Harry said, half-reading from the parchment. “Pride together.”

“Pride forever,” answered the group quietly in unison.

“Many things bind us together as a Pride. By our own words and our own wishes are we bound. By blood and friendship are we bound. By our own magic and others’ magic are we bound.” That had surprised him a little the first time he’d read it. What magic bound the Pride other than their own? But he wasn’t about to mess this up just for his own curiosity. He could ask later.

“By all these and more are we bound,” said Hermione, taking up the thread of the magic. “As alpha female of this Pride, I summon those bonds to appear, to show themselves to us, so that we may use them for this work that lies before us.”

Almost before she was finished speaking, lines of colored light silently appeared, connecting and cross-connecting the members of the Pride. Harry looked down at himself. Seven golden lines disappeared into his chest, one extending to each member of his Pride. Almost everyone else was bound by gold, although there were a few exceptions. Ron and Ginny were connected by a red line, as were Draco and Meghan, though theirs was a lighter color than the Weasleys’, and Harry couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to see a faint, ghostly line of blue connecting Draco and Luna, and another running from Neville to Meghan…

Hermione hissed at him. Belatedly, Harry looked at his parchment and began to read again. “As alpha male of this Pride, I call on these bonds to become active, to send magic among us, so that those who need it may use it and those who do not may add to it.”

He looked once around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes, beginning with Neville and ending with Meghan, who turned half around to do it. Then he nodded to Hermione. She took a deep breath and began to speak with him. “So we speak. So we intend.”

“And so let it be done!” said the Pride in unison.

With an almost audible throb, the lines of light came to life. Harry jumped, and he wasn’t the only one. He could feel the power flowing through the lines, into him and out again, pushing and pulling at the other lines, the other people, pulsing in rhythm with something in himself…

It’s my heart. My heartbeat. It’s not the same as everyone else’s. But I think it needs to be.

He looked at Ginny, sitting next to him, and focused on her. To his surprise, he could feel the pulse of her power against his own, warm and soft, red and scented faintly of flowers. Their magics bumped together, partly resisting, partly meshing.

We need to mesh all the way. He reached out and touched her through the power, and she jumped and turned to face him. Together, he sent in a way that wasn’t exactly the thought-speech they’d shared through the pendants before, but was related. We need to be together.

Yes, she agreed. Together.

They began to synchronize their power. It was surprisingly easy – after a few fumbles, suddenly he gave a little and she gave a little, and their power pulsed together, two hearts beating as one. Thank you, he sent to her.

No, thank you. She smiled at him. I think Meghan is ready.

Harry turned to see Meghan watching him. Together? he asked her.

Yes. Their magic met and meshed with barely a hesitation. Meghan’s power was different from Ginny’s, Harry noticed. Pearl’s was a rich violet and smelled of salt water and clean wind, and felt soft and strong at the same time, like a friendly handshake. It carried with it Neville’s power, which took a moment longer to agree with Harry’s but finally settled in. Neville was gold and firmly solid and mint-smelling.

Draco caught Harry’s eye next. We’re ready, he said.

Harry stared into his brother’s eyes, and felt a sudden twinge of uncertainty – the gray pools around Draco’s pupils seemed to be moving, like storm clouds in the ceiling of the Great Hall the instant before a lightning strike…

Draco and Luna’s power met his, and it was a little like being struck by a mild form of lightning. Part of that was Luna’s power, Harry recognized dimly. It was a bright and vibrant white, and stung a little at first touch, leaving behind a crisp scent that wasn’t quite like smoke or quite like fresh air, but was a little like both. Draco’s, meshed with it in perfect harmony, held both the color and scent of fresh pine needles, the spicy, prickly green that Harry had always associated with Christmas, and felt like a branch of them, soft if you stroked them the right way, sharp if you didn’t.

Right time of year for it, then.

Dimly, he was aware of the other powers he now held making their peace with these newcomers. We’re almost all together. Just need Ron and Neenie now…

And then they were there. Ginny had melded with Ron while Harry was busy with the others, and now Ron and Hermione’s joined power filled the links between them and the others. Ron’s magic was the same color as his hair, smooth and warm, and had a spicy-sweet scent, like hot pumpkin juice. Hermione’s was a creamy white and soft as a kitten’s fur or the feathery end of a quill, but with the prickles of the kitten’s claws or the quill’s writing end, and she smelled of new parchment and a spice that Harry reminded himself to identify in the kitchen later.

What about me? he asked his Pridemates, and a moment later was bombarded with sense images. His magic was a fiery red, brighter than Ginny’s soft tones, a bit bluer (if red could be blue) than Ron’s more orange color. He smelled of spices as well, cloves and cinnamon and ginger, and with that he knew that Hermione’s scent was nutmeg, because it was the fourth in Danger’s spice cookies. The only way he could think to put the touch sense into words was “knobbly, but nice,” because he seemed to have little bumps all over, but they didn’t hurt to touch.

The Pride spent a few moments settling into these new understandings, making sure they had them straight. Harry felt the knowledge of everyone else’s magic lodging itself deep in his brain, where it might someday be very useful…

Or not.

But that didn’t matter now. The links were open, power was flowing. It was time. A thought brought Hermione alert and ready.

As alpha male and female, we give you this power, Harry and Hermione said together, addressing Neville and Meghan. In the name of the Pride, do now what was decided, doing all for good and nothing for evil. So we speak, so we intend.

And so let it be done, chorused the rest of the Pride.

So you speak, and so speak we, said Neville and Meghan together. They clasped hands over the Longbottoms’ heads. So you intend, and so intend we. And so we shall now do!

Together, they lowered their free hands to the Longbottoms, Meghan laying her hand on Frank’s arm, Neville on Alice’s shoulder.

The Pride shuddered together as they felt magic being drawn from them, funneling through Neville and Meghan, and going… going away, as far as any of them could tell. It wasn’t recirculating, the way it had up till now, but simply draining away.

I think that means it’s working right…

As well, Neville’s and Meghan’s presences in the link were slowly becoming farther away than they had been. Not inaccessible, but harder to feel and find. The feel of eight hearts beating as one was threatening to fracture and slide away…

Oh, no, you don’t, said a voice, and Ron began to drum, reinforcing the heartbeat rhythm. The magic solidified again, settling back into place.

Ginny began to hum a Christmas carol. Other voices joined hers, adding harmony lines, keeping it quiet and gentle and paced around the rhythm Ron was keeping, and as they sang, more power flowed from them, reinforcing the circuit before it was pulled away by the Healing team.

This is right, Harry thought. This is how it’s supposed to work. I’m not sure how long we can keep it up…

As long as we need to, answered the Pride in many voices. As long as we must.

Harry smiled. Well, as long as they’re sure.

He joined the song, adding his voice to the harmony and his magic to the power pool.

xXxXx

They stood side by side, still holding hands, but the contrast between the places their feet touched could not have been greater. Meghan stood in the midst of a vast jungle, and Neville on the broad flat plain of a desert.

“There’s something wrong here,” said Meghan aloud.

“Very wrong,” Neville agreed. He shaded his eyes and squinted into the distance. “I think I see something over there.”

“Shh.” Meghan turned her head. “I hear something. Over that way.” She pointed deeper into the jungle.

They looked at each other. Neither wanted to say it first. Finally Neville did. “We’ll have to split up.”

“Is that safe?” Meghan asked doubtfully.

Neville shrugged. “I’ve never been here before. You have.”

“I knew what I had to do last time. Now I don’t. Not really. I just wish there was some way we could keep track of each other.”

“We need a rope or something,” said Neville. “To hold us together. Something strong, and long, that won’t get in our way…” He stopped.

“What?”

“I think I know what we can use.” He slid his pendants over his head and looked at them for a moment. One of his Hufflepuff gems flashed with bright yellow light, then faded. He wrapped a loop of the chain around Meghan’s waist and another around his own, and secured them both by pressing them together. “It should go through things you want it to, just like yours do,” he said. “And it will get as long as we need it to, but keep us together.”

Meghan smiled. “Then I’ll always have part of you with me.”

“But that’s not fair, then. I don’t have anything of yours.”

Meghan dug in her pocket and pulled out the first thing she found, her handkerchief. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Now you do.”

Neville tucked it into his sleeve. “My lady’s colors,” he said.

“Stop it.” Meghan pushed him. “I’ll tug on it when I’m coming back here.”

“So will I. Good luck.”

“You too.”

They squeezed each other’s hands, then separated, Neville setting out across the desert, Meghan forging into the jungle.

xXxXx

It was hard going through the tangles of plants. Not only were they horribly overgrown, blocking anything that might ever have been a path, but something was wrong with them. They weren’t dying, but it was somehow related to that. As if…

They should be dying? That doesn’t make any sense. Things aren’t supposed to die.

But wait. Sometimes they are. “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” The beautiful, ancient words came to her in her Dadfoot’s voice, mellow and strong and sweet, reminding her of what she’d forgotten. “A time to live, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which was planted…”

And as she thought of that, she was there, where she wanted to be.

It was a tiny clearing in the center of the jungle, hardly big enough to lie down in, but someone was lying there now. A man with hair mostly gray and white, but she could tell it had once been brown, and a lined, worried face.

She bent down and shook him gently, and he opened his eyes. “Hello,” he said, sounding a bit puzzled. “Who might you be?”

“My name is Meghan. Are you Mr. Longbottom?”

“Yes, that’s me. However did you come here?” Mr. Longbottom sat up, looking around. “I don’t see any paths. Heaven knows I’ve looked.”

“I came that way,” said Meghan, pointing behind her, and then turned and looked.

There was no sign of her passage. The wall of plants surrounding the clearing was unbroken. Only the fine gold chain vanishing through the tangled vines gave any indication that she had ever come that way.

“It must have grown up behind you,” said Mr. Longbottom, sounding resigned. “It does that. If you knew the times I’ve tried to get out of here, to find some way through these plants… I love plants, I always have, but these are particularly difficult to love.”

“Because they keep you here.”

“Yes. And I’ve been here quite a long time, I know. I haven’t seen another human in all that time… not clearly, anyway. Sometimes I think I see forms out there, but by the time I get to them they’re always gone.” He shook his head. “It’s very frustrating. I tend to sleep a lot, because if I’m asleep I can’t see things that look like old friends. Or like someone I love.”

“Someone you love?”

“You have a mother and father, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do they love each other?”

“Very much.”

Mr. Longbottom nodded. “I love my wife just that much,” he said. “And in just that way. And I haven’t seen her in all the time I’ve been here. Sometimes I think I see a boy. A boy with her face, her smile. But by the time I get to him, he’s always gone.”

He was turning in a slow circle, looking at the plants surrounding him. “I almost got to him yesterday,” he said, his back to Meghan. “I saw him clearly, and I think this time he saw me as well. But I’d worn myself out so much getting to him that I fell asleep right in front of him, before I could say anything to him. Before I could ask him who he was.”

Meghan licked her lips. She could smell magic here, feel and almost taste it, all around her, magic very like Neville’s own, like the solid strong gold she knew so well, but different somehow, changed, distorted…

Twisted, she finally decided. The magic had been twisted out of shape by something, and it was shaping what was around them here, this cage of plants. But how?

She reached with her own power, the blue-violet healing touch, and sucked in her breath at the pain around her. Pain, and despair, and longing, incredible longing –

For what?

Death, clamored a thousand million voices in her mind. End our pain! Let us die!

Wait, Meghan protested. I don’t even know what you are!

We are thoughts, the voices told her. Every thought that this man has ever had, every wish or desire or worry or fear, we are all trapped here, all of equal importance, and his magic, twisted by his pain, keeps us here and will not let us die. So we twist and twine and trap him – we do not want to do it, we are as trapped as he. Help us. Let some of us die, so that the rest can live.

Meghan pulled herself out of the communication with a shiver. She knew of the Healer’s Oaths, though she had not yet sworn them. Healers promised to “first, do no harm.”

But would it be harm? They’re supposed to die, and they can’t. And they’re in pain, and unhappy. Would it be harm to let them die, the way they should?

I’m not making them die, she realized. They’d die naturally. It’s the twisted magic that’s keeping them alive. If I straighten it out, then everything will work the way it should. Then he’ll be healed.

It’s not wrong. It’s right.

“Excuse me?” she said quietly.

“Yes?” Mr. Longbottom turned to face her.

“I think I can help you get away from here. If you’ll let me.”

“Let you? Child – Meghan – I’ve dreamed of being free of this place for years. If you can help me, please, do it.”

“I have to touch you, then.”

Mr. Longbottom held out his hand without hesitation. Meghan took a deep breath and took it in hers, closing her eyes.

Let what is wrong, be made right, she whispered in her mind, touching the golden strength that was Neville, and reaching into that and past it to the rush of color and scent and touch that was the magic of her Pride. Let death come to this place of life…

xXxXx

Neville felt as if he’d been walking for hours. His feet burned in their shoes, his eyes hurt from glare, and he was sure he was sunburned on every exposed piece of skin, and possibly a few that weren’t. It would be so easy to turn around now…

But I have work to do.

He lifted his shoulders and kept walking.

Finally, in the distance, he saw a small form. He headed toward it. As he drew closer, he saw that it was another person – a woman –

Mum!

But I can’t call her that. She won’t know me. She’d only remember me as a baby.

“Excuse me,” he said politely as he drew close to her.

His mum jumped as if she’d been shot. “Who are you?” she demanded, staring at him with suspicion. “How did you get here?”

“My name’s Neville. I just came here.”

“Neville?” his mum breathed, her eyes wide. “Neville?” She stared at him for a moment, open speculation in her face, then turned away. “No. I don’t believe you.”

Neville frowned, confused. “What don’t you believe?”

“I don’t believe in you. You’re just another mirage. There are hundreds of them, thousands, always here, always taunting me. I’ve seen you before. You come often. You’re usually with someone, though. You’re alone this time.”

“Usually Gran’s with me when I come to see you. But this is different. This time I came a different way.”

“Obviously. You look different than you usually do. You look…” She turned to have another look at him. “Solid. As if you were real.”

“I am real. Here, feel.” Neville held out his hand.

Distrustfully, his mother reached out and touched him.

She jerked back with a gasp. “You – you are…”

Neville didn’t move. After a moment, she touched him again, letting her hand rest on his a little longer this time. Then a little longer, and then she was holding his hand, and then suddenly she embraced him and held on. He hugged her back, hard, holding her tightly. He had always wondered what it would be like to be hugged by his mother.

“I had a son named Neville,” she said when she let him go. “He was just a baby, though. He’s dead now.”

“Dead!”

“Yes, dead,” she continued, mistaking his surprise for a wish to hear more. “Death Eaters killed him, after they finished with us. They hurt us, over and over, until it was too much. I ran from them, and I found this place. They can’t hurt me here, because they can’t reach me. Anything that tries to cross this desert dies.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, that’s true.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “You didn’t. You’re here, alive. How did you do it?”

“I thought about you,” said Neville truthfully. “You and… Mr. Longbottom.”

She looked away. “You know who I am, then?”

“Yes’m.”

“I haven’t seen Frank in so long… dear God, I’d give anything to see him again. Anything at all.”

“Then come back with me,” said Neville, seizing his opportunity. “Come back the way I came. He’s there. At least I think he is. We can try to find him at any rate. Come on, it’s this way…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No. I’m not coming.”

“Why not?”

She looked around at him. “This desert. It kills everything it touches. And I’m part of it now, after all this time. Or it’s part of me, I’m not sure which. I won’t risk Frank that way. I don’t want to find him just to lose him again.”

“You’re wrong,” said Neville in some desperation. “You’re wrong. You don’t kill everything. You didn’t kill me.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, but I can’t believe this. Not after so long. If I could see something else, something else alive – something that stayed alive here, even though I was here – maybe then I could believe you.”

“All right,” said Neville, kneeling down. “I’ll make something alive, then. I’ll make something grow. I can do that.”

“Really?” His mother looked interested, kneeling beside him. “You can make things grow?”

Neville nodded. “I only found out about it a little while ago,” he said, cupping his hands over a place on the sand. “But I really can. I make plants grow better and stronger, and I know if things are wrong with them, and how to make them right. I think I can even get one to grow here.”

I hope.

He closed his eyes and reached into the earth with his magic. If there was just one seed, one, somewhere in the earth under this desert…

He gasped. There was not one seed here, but hundreds, thousands, all just waiting, waiting for someone like him. Someone to wake them up and bring them to life…

But I don’t know if I can. I don’t really know how I made my magic work that one time. And Meghan was there, and she isn’t here now…

He looked at the handkerchief in his sleeve, and lifted a hand to touch the chain which held them together. No, she’s here. She’s with me. And together, we’re strong. Strong enough to make this work.

Let what is wrong here be made right, he willed, closing his eyes again and feeling Meghan’s blue-violet magic, and fainter behind it, the multi-colored magic of the Pride. Let life come to this place of death…

xXxXx

The two wishes, made by the two linked minds, coincided.

Into the midst of life came death, and into the midst of death came life.

xXxXx

Neville opened his eyes and looked around. He knelt on green moss in the middle of a forest. His mother still knelt beside him, but she was staring past him, and the look on her face suggested she was seeing something she’d loved dearly, and never thought she’d see again.

xXxXx

Meghan opened her eyes and looked around. She stood in a spacious clearing between fine healthy trees. Mr. Longbottom still stood in front of her, but he was looking past her, with all the love of twelve separated years, and all the hope he hadn’t had a moment before, in his eyes.

“Alice…”

“Frank! Oh, Frank!”

In an instant, they were in each other’s arms, both of them crying, crying and laughing at the same moment, and clinging to each other as if they’d never let go.

We did it. I think we really did it.

Meghan shivered, suddenly chilled. Part of it was reaction, she knew, and part of it was the tiredness that overcame her every time she did a major healing. She would probably fall down in a minute…

Strong, warm arms were around her, holding her up. “We did it,” said Neville’s voice in her ear. “We really did it, didn’t we?”

“I think we did.” Meghan turned to face him. “Together.”

They held each other in their arms, each keeping the other upright, for a moment or two, Meghan’s head nestled against Neville’s chest, Neville’s cheek leaned against Meghan’s braids.

“We should get back,” said Neville finally, regretfully. “Can you hear them?”

Meghan listened. “That way,” she said, pointing towards the distant music. “It’s that way.”

“Should we bring them?” Neville indicated his parents, who didn’t look likely to pay attention to anything but each other any time soon.

“I don’t think we have to,” said Meghan, thinking it over. “I think this is just like a normal dream now, and when they wake up, they’ll be all right. Do you see?” Wordlessly, she invited Neville into her magic and showed him how she could tell that the minds around them were healed and made right. The people who owned those minds would awaken healthy and able to understand what happened around them.

“I do see,” said Neville quietly. “I do see. Meghan – thank you.” He hugged her again, tightly.

“You’re welcome.” Meghan hugged him back.

Hand in hand, they followed the music homewards.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 12: Thirds (Year 3)


Chapter 12: Thirds

Near midnight on Christmas Eve, the clouds broke over Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, revealing the stars, brighter than usual in the chill air of winter. Those who were awake to watch saw a bright streak of light pass through the air over the school. The centaurs saw it. Professor Sinistra saw it. And one other saw it as well.

Centaurs do not believe in wishing on shooting stars. Professor Sinistra’s only wish was to get home safely for Christmas.

The other had something else in mind.

xXxXx

It was fun to play in the forest, especially in the winter. It was fun to run, and dodge, and hide, and sniff at things, and climb, and go down holes. It was fun to roll in the snow. Everything was fun. That was why he had agreed to stay an extra day, to give the day to someone else who wanted to leave the forest early. He didn’t want to leave early. He wanted to stay as long as he could.

But something was different about the forest right now. There was a smell that had not been there before. He sniffed, taking it in.

Food. He started off in that direction, trotting cheerfully through the light dusting of snow on the ground, licking his chops. He would see what kind of food it was. If it looked appetizing, he would have some, whether its current owner agreed to share or not.

He sniffed again, and sped up. The odor was more tantalizing by the minute, drawing him to it ever faster, insisting that he hurry, hurry, there was not a moment to lose...

No. Wait.

He stopped, confused. Why wait? Food was good.

Traps are not good.

No, traps were not good. He shook himself all over. Traps were nasty things that closed on you and either hurt you so badly that you had to hurt yourself more to get free or just held you there so you couldn’t get away at all.

This might be a trap.

He shook his head again, confused. Where were these strange thoughts coming from? He’d never thought like this before...

Oh, yes, you have. I have. You were – I was – warned about this. Getting too far into Animagus form, so far that I never want to come out again. This is nice, but I think I need to be human right now...

With a small snap, he changed forms, and memorized how it felt to do so, the process he’d gone through. It may be a while before I can do this for real, but it’s good to know.

For real. This is a dream. Which means there’s something important where that smell is coming from. Something I either should see, or shouldn’t.

Draco shrugged. If it’s a dream, then I can’t get really hurt. I might as well see what it is.

He changed back, but very consciously kept his human mind close to the surface. Fox instinct guided him, showing him how to track the scent and how to hide and sneak, and identified the odors wafting towards him – roasting meat, baking bread and biscuits, and as he got closer, human.

It was his human mind, though, that realized what it meant that he was smelling a human.

Dream constructs smell different than real people. This is someone else, a real person, dreaming with me. It could be another of the Pride – it’s possible we’re still magically linked and dreaming together – but it could be someone else too...

He turned human, took off one of the mittens he was wearing, and changed again, sniffing at it.

They’re similar. Very similar. He muffled his nose in the snow and sneezed. Whoever’s over there is related to me by blood. Closely related.

No points for guessing who, now.

For a moment, he considered walking away, but by the rules of a shared dream, they’d have to meet eventually.

I wish it weren’t on his ground, but I’d rather get it over with, I think.

He changed again and reclaimed his mitten. No use blowing our secret. No matter what happens, I have to stay human.

He took a few deep breaths in the pattern Letha had taught him, calming himself, then walked forward as if he had all the time in the world, following the smells which were now even present to his limited human nose.

Three copses of pine trees later, he found what he was looking for.

“God rest ye merry, gentleman,” he said, giving a small, polite bow to the man sitting at the head of the ornate table.

“Clever,” said Lucius Malfoy, rising and returning the bow. “Very clever. Will you eat with me?”

“If you wish.” Draco took a seat along one of the sides of the table and watched his father fill two glasses of wine from the same bottle, then set them side by side in front of him and step back.

Very nice. Giving me the choice, thereby assuring me that neither of them is poisoned. Unless, of course, they are both poisoned. Though he’s not a pirate...

Draco told himself to shut up and selected a glass. Malfoy took the other and sipped from it.

Very, very nice. He’s smooth when he’s prepared. Draco took a sip himself. He’d had wine before – it was sometimes served at the Den for special occasions, and anyone who wanted some could have it. This was quite good.

Now, will he tell me what’s going on, or will we eat first?

Malfoy drew his wand and tapped it on the table twice. The dishes came to life, walking toward them, and the first one stopped in front of Draco and opened itself, presenting candied yams for his approval. He served himself a small portion, and the dish moved on to Malfoy, who also took some.

“Would you care for music with dinner, Draco, or shall we attempt to converse while we eat?”

The phrasing of the question warned him of the correct answer. “I think music would be pleasant, sir.”

“Very well.” Another wave of Malfoy’s wand produced instrumental Christmas carols, and both wizards applied themselves to dinner.

The food was very good, Draco found when he tried it, at least on a par with Hogwarts or Danger’s cooking, though rather fancier than either of those. He knew he was being watched, and was careful to utilize every session on table manners he’d ever gotten.

“This is very... companionable,” Malfoy said after both of them had finished their first servings and were moving more slowly through seconds. “I see you can be polite when you choose.”

Draco discarded a large belch as a possible answer, along with I see so can you or Yes, despite our primitive surroundings, my parents have managed to teach me civilized behavior towards other human beings , and finally settled on simply, “Yes, sir.”

“I imagine you seldom have meals like this.”

No, we gnaw bones around the fire and grunt at each other a lot. “No, sir, I don’t.”

“Perhaps you would like to have something like this more often. Something sophisticated, refined, elegant.”

Instead of that cave I live in now, right? “Perhaps I would.”

“It is not beyond the bounds of possibility. You would need only two things to make it work properly. As distasteful as it is to mention, you would need money. And, of course, someone to guide you along the way, to keep you from making fatal mistakes.”

“Money, I have,” said Draco carefully. “You could, I suppose, recommend someone to me who could guide me as you suggest.”

“I could. I might even be willing to teach you myself, in return for certain considerations.”

“Considerations.”

“Yes. Safety would, of course, be paramount. Sophistication is difficult to achieve when one must be constantly looking over one’s shoulder.”

“Safety for myself, sir, or for you?”

Malfoy’s voice hardened. “Don’t play the fool with me, boy, I know you are none. For me.”

“And how, exactly, would this safety be obtained?”

“There are many ways.”

“Describe one.”

“A small sum would be sufficient to provide myself with a permanent disguise. I could rent a house or a flat near your own home, offer to give you lessons in something you wish to learn – you could invent a good story, I have no doubt, some reason to come to me. It could begin soon, and very soon, if you wish.”

“I’m sure. And during these lessons, what else would you be teaching me?”

“What else?”

“Yes, would we have sessions on Dark magic? Torture? Or maybe a little brainwashing, to try and convince me I’m still your son?”

Malfoy flung his glass aside, shattering it against a tree. “You are still my son!”

“By blood only, and that’s no fault of mine,” retorted Draco, slamming his own glass down on the table.

Malfoy glared at him. “You will return to me.”

Draco matched his glare. “Never.”

“And if I took you now?”

Draco snorted. “Now? From here? Where would you take me? Or more to the point, how would you keep me?”

“How...” Malfoy’s face, baffled for a moment, cleared. “I see,” he said, suddenly urbane once more. “I do see. And I do remember. Two years ago, was it not? Almost exactly – no, exactly two years ago, to the day, we met before. Do you recall that?”

Draco nodded, then, too late, remembered that he shouldn’t tell about that. He swore under his breath as a smile spread over Malfoy’s face. “Excellent. So you should recall this as well. Listen closely, Draco.”

“Make me.”

Before Draco could react, Malfoy had his wand on him. Draco felt his muscles all seize up, then go limp as his feet left the ground. He was dangling like a marionette several inches up, with a burning sensation around his neck.

Note to self – don’t taunt the bloke with the wand.

“Are you listening now?” Malfoy asked, swirling his wand in little half-circles, so that Draco’s body flopped back and forth and his head rolled from side to side. “No? You’re not? I must fix that. Perhaps a bit higher.”

I am not going to hurl, I am not going to hurl, I am not going to hurl – or if I do, I’m going to do it on him. Draco swallowed hard – at least he could still do that – as he floated higher.

“Listening now?” asked Malfoy, waving his wand up and down this time, bouncing Draco’s head back and forth, so that he bit his tongue painfully. “Excellent. What I can do here, I can certainly do in the waking world. And I will. No charms, no wards will hold forever. I will find you, and I will make you mine once more. How painful that process will be is entirely up to you. If you are cooperative, it might not hurt at all. If you persist in this senseless resistance, the pain will be all your own fault.”

Malfoy flicked his wand, and Draco collapsed to the ground, forcing himself to stay loose so he’d make a soft landing. He spent a few seconds coughing, then caught his breath. “Funny,” he wheezed. “I know another bunch of people who say things like those. ‘Resistance is futile’ and all that. And what’s funny is, they may win for a while, but they always lose in the end. By the end of the program, the good guys beat them every time.”

“How nice for the people on the program ,” said Malfoy silkily. “We are speaking here of real life, Draco, not some foolish escapist fantasy. You cannot hope to hold out against me forever without help.”

Draco got to his feet and straightened up. “No, probably not,” he agreed. “But that’s why I have help.”

An owl hooted from a tree behind him. A hawk’s scream answered it from a tree behind Malfoy. A wolf and a large wildcat with a short tail and tufts of black fur on its ears stalked out of the trees on one side. A calico cat, her bright colors cheerful amid the snow, leapt onto the abandoned dinner table and began to wash her side, keeping a weather eye on Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked. “I fail to see how animals will help you defeat me,” he said, looking at the cat, then up at the hawk as it sailed in to land on the table beside her.

“I’m sure you do,” said Draco. “But you’re looking at the wrong ones.”

The wolf chose this moment to bite Malfoy on that portion of his anatomy upon which he was accustomed to sit. As he screamed, the lynx launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground facedown. The wolf jumped onto his back as well, giving an open-mouthed grin similar to Padfoot’s when he’d just done something very clever.

The owl took wing, soaring down and plucking the wand neatly from Malfoy’s hand. She circled around and dropped it into Draco’s hand, then came in for a landing on his outstretched wrist.

Draco knelt in the snow by his father, out of grabbing distance but close enough that the man could see him. “Now you listen to me,” he said coldly. “I will never come to you willingly. If you want me back, you’ll have to come and get me, and the Pack and the Pride will fight you every step of the way.”

“Pack and Pride,” Malfoy spat, his face turning pink. “Animals, that’s all you are, filthy animals.”

“And those filthy animals beat your arse pretty good,” Draco shot back. “Keep in mind it’s been nearly ten years since my brother and sister knocked you out. Think about what they could do to you now, if they wanted to. And that’s without counting all our other friends, or our parents. So get a brain. Get a life. And save yourself some trouble. Stay away from me.”

The wolf and the lynx leapt off Malfoy’s back, taking up stations beside Draco, half-encircling Malfoy. The owl fluttered off his wrist and took a place on his other side, and the cat and the hawk completed the circle, jumping and flapping into position.

The wolf growled, then waved a paw dismissively, spattering Malfoy with half-melted snow. The other animals did so as well, flicking paws and wings at the man. Finally, Draco picked up a handful of snow for himself and packed it. “Goodbye,” he said, and hurled the snowball into Malfoy’s face. As it struck, the wizard disappeared.

Draco shook his head. “Waste of a good snowball,” he said. “Who wants some dinner?”

“Me,” said Ron, standing up where the hawk had been.

Draco grinned. “No surprises there. Anyone else?”

“I think I could eat,” said Ginny, brushing snow off her hands.

“I suppose so,” said Luna, shaking her hair out of her face.

“Well, just to keep you all company,” said Hermione, already heading for the table.

Harry made a face. “Let me go rinse out my mouth first.”

“I was going to say,” said Ron. “Why’d you bite him there?”

“So he wouldn’t see me coming. Why? Where would you have bitten him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe on the nose or something.”

“The nose? How was I supposed to reach his nose?”

“I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about me!”

“Why?”

“Because you asked me where I would bite him!”

“I meant if you were me!”

“I’m not you!”

Ginny made a trumpet sound. “I hereby proclaim my brother Ron to be the one, the only, Captain Obvious,” she said, framing him with her fingers. “So, Captain Obvious, what are you going to do now?”

“Eat,” said Ron, pulling up a chair and sitting down at the table. “I’m starving.”

“And once again, you earn your name, Captain Obvious,” said Hermione, passing a tureen of mashed potatoes down. “You’re always starving.”

“I’m a growing boy. I need lots of nourishment.”

“You’ll grow as big as Hagrid if you keep eating like you do,” said Luna, sitting down. “Pass the turkey, please?”

“Not after you just insulted me, I won’t.”

“Good. It’s not by you anyway. Ginny?”

Despite the wintry forest around him, Draco felt warm. Life was once again as it should be, and it was going to be a happy Christmas.

xXxXx

Christmas morning cub-watch fell to Sirius. He wasn’t really expecting anything to happen – Meghan had slept for a week after she’d healed Harry, and it had been barely two days since the Pride had healed the Longbottoms. But they had to be watched.

We could have a scry on them, like we had on Frank and Alice, but the point of that was to give them some privacy, watching just closely enough to know if they needed help. Which they didn’t. The cubs know to expect us here when they wake up. They might even be afraid if we weren’t here.

So they’d been taking it in turns to spend a few hours in the room where the Pride slept, each of them with a project of his or her own. Since there was little chance of waking them, Remus could bring his violin, and Aletha a vocal piece or two, or even a piano piece to practice, though she had to conjure the instrument. Danger occupied her time with a book or her knitting, usually both. Sirius had his latest manuscript, which he was in the process of revising and polishing.

Might be ready for the publisher by the end of January, even...

A noise caught his attention. Someone had just yawned.

Sirius set his quill down and scanned the room, looking for movement on a larger scale than breathing or shifting in sleep.

Ah-ha. There. On the other side of the room, close to the door...

Wait a second. That doesn’t make sense. Pearl and Neville are over there, and they should be asleep longer than anyone. Shouldn’t they?

But he couldn’t argue with facts.

Time to get over there, I think.

xXxXx

All his limbs felt heavy. Even his eyelids were a burden to lift, but the burden was getting lighter by the second. Soon he’d be able to see where he was, and figure out how long he’d been asleep. The sour taste in his mouth told him it had been a long time, longer than he usually slept...

I wonder why?

Another moment, and memory supplied the answer. With it came a rush of adrenaline, burning away the weight in his body in an instant. Neville sat up with a gasp, his eyes flying open.

Mr. Padfoot jumped back from him. “You almost had me there,” he said quietly, but with his usual good humor. “Good reflexes.”

“Did it work?” Neville blurted. “Are they all right?”

The older wizard smiled. “It worked, Neville. You did it. They’re back.”

The room was suddenly much too hot, and the air seemed to have gotten thicker. By his side, Meghan stirred, but for once he had no eyes for her. “Can I see them?”

“Right away.” Mr. Padfoot went over to the fireplace, drew his wand, and lit a fire in the grate. “Bathroom’s through there,” he said, nodding over his shoulder, then tossed some Floo powder into the fire. “Crimson suite,” he said, and stepped into the green flames.

Neville got to his feet, a little awkwardly at first, as his muscles protested this sudden usage after a long period – how long, he wondered? – of inactivity. But he couldn’t be bothered with petty details like that. He needed to get cleaned up, and fast.

His parents were coming to see him.

xXxXx

“You look happy,” said Aletha as Sirius stepped out of the fire in their quarters.

“I am. Confused, but happy. Do you know where the Longbottoms are?”

“Up in their suite with Frank’s mum. Why?”

“Neville’s awake. Mind taking cub-watch for a moment until we get back?”

“Not at all,” said Aletha, standing up with a smile of her own. “I think I can honestly say this is one of the best things I’ve ever done.”

“I’ll second that.” Sirius added Floo powder to this fire as well. “Ginger suite,” he said this time, and let the fire carry him away again.

“Sirius,” said Frank, standing up to greet him, as did Alice and Mrs. Longbottom. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all. Are you doing anything you can’t put off?”

“No, I don’t think so. Why?”

Sirius grinned. “There’s a young man who’d like to meet you.”

xXxXx

Neville had just finished in the bathroom – used the toilet, washed his face and hands, finger-combed his hair, and done the fastest toothbrushing of his life – when he heard the door open. He dashed back out to the main room and froze in the doorway.

There they stood, both of them, looking at him with everything he’d always wanted to see in their faces – pride, joy, and immense love. His mother’s eyes were threatening to brim over, his father’s smile was trembling ever so slightly. They stood that way for a long moment. Then his mother opened her arms.

Neville had no recollection of crossing the floor. He knew he must have, he had no idea how to Apparate, but he couldn’t remember doing it. He was in the doorway, and then he was hugging his mum, and feeling his dad’s arms around them both, and hearing them say his name. Somehow, they moved in an awkward group through the nearest open door, and heard it close behind them, and somehow they found a way to sit down, still holding each other, and then they all started to cry in earnest.

The dream that Neville Longbottom had cherished his entire life had finally come true.

xXxXx

Aletha shut the door behind her friends and turned away, blinking back a few tears of her own. She had someone to tend to herself.

“Mama Letha?” Meghan blinked up at her mother a bit foggily as Aletha sat down beside her. “Where’s Neville?”

“He’s with his parents, sweetheart. You did it. They’re all right again.”

“Oh.” Meghan smiled and curled up next to Aletha. “That’s good.”

“Pearl, my love?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you two awake first? It doesn’t make much sense. You and Neville did the most, so you should be asleep the longest.”

“Oh, that.” Meghan frowned, counting on her fingers. “Yeah. We should’ve been asleep until Tuesday. And everybody else should’ve woken up today. But everybody else took a day for us. So we can be awake today, and they’ll all be awake tomorrow.”

Aletha frowned, then did some quick calculations. Today to Tuesday is three days. Six if you count them both. And the rest of the Pride is six people. So “everyone else took a day for us” – I suppose they can share energy the same way they share magic, and take some of the burden from these two. Which is wonderful for the Longbottoms, and the rest of us won’t suffer unduly for waiting one more day. We can have Christmas as soon as they’re all awake and ready to appreciate their presents.

Meghan had drifted back into a light doze. Aletha stroked her daughter’s hair. “Happy Christmas, my little love,” she murmured. “May they all be so joyful for you.”

xXxXx

It was a good hour or more before the Longbottoms paid attention to anything but each other, and that was only because Neville’s stomach suddenly and noisily reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in several days, which embarrassed him tremendously but made his parents laugh. Frank summoned a house-elf and had breakfast brought up for the three of them, and they continued talking while they ate.

Neville had just finished a grilled tomato when he recalled what he’d been working on this whole term, in hopes of a day just like this. “I have something to show you,” he said. “Meghan and I made it together. Can I go get it, or send a house-elf for it or something?”

“Before you do,” said his mum, setting aside her own plate, “I’ve heard a great deal about you and Meghan. Now I want to hear it from you. I know she’s your friend, and that you spend a lot of time together...”

“Tell us about her,” his dad supplied. “What is she like? What do you do together?”

Neville knew, from experience, that these same questions could have been asked in a tone of voice that would make him want to shrivel up, give as short an answer as possible, and run away. But his parents weren’t his gran, and they sounded interested and open, without any premade notions of what it necessarily had to mean when an older boy became friends with a younger girl.

We’re too young for that stuff anyway...

“We do almost everything together,” he said, answering the last question first. “We like each other a lot. We get along well, and she always thinks the best of me.” He smiled, a little embarrassed. “I think that’s part of why I like her, because she would always talk like I was really the best at everything I did, and just hiding it so other people wouldn’t feel bad. Even when I was the worst at things, she wouldn’t believe I was really the worst. And... I started being not the worst, because she thought I wasn’t.”

His dad was nodding, and his mum looked thoughtful. Neville kept on. “She loves to dance. She taught me how, and I really like it now. We practice a lot, when we can get time and somewhere with enough space. It makes me feel all free and light, and really strong, because I have to pick her up to do some of the moves, and she’s so little that I can do it. I worked hard on getting my arms strong enough to do the fast dances, the ones where you have to pick the girl up and spin her around or something.”

“I’d love to see you dance with her,” said his mum. “Maybe sometime soon.”

Neville nodded. “We will,” he promised. “And over the summer, we worked in her garden together a lot. I showed her how to tell if a plant’s strong enough to stay where it is, or if it needs to be moved somewhere else, and how to tend climbers right – so many people just let them go any which way. The summer before that, back before second year, I taught her some of the magic we’d learned in first year, and she taught me how to read music.”

“Taught you?” his dad asked. “You didn’t already know?”

Neville shook his head. “Should I?” he asked, a little timidly.

“I don’t know about should , but I’d thought Mum would have made sure you got lessons in something...”

His mum leaned over and whispered something, and his dad’s face cleared. “Of course. That makes sense. Do you play an instrument, Neville?”

“Not yet.” Neville hesitated – this was something he hadn’t even told Meghan yet – but these were his parents. Who else should he tell? “I wanted to learn to play the guitar.”

His mum laughed, his dad grinned. “That’s my boy,” he said. “Or did you not know I played?”

“You do?” Neville had thought his day couldn’t get any better. “Gran never said – will you teach me?”

“I’ll be delighted. I’d always hoped you’d want to learn.” His dad leaned over to give him a hug. “You used to watch me play and try to grab the tuning pegs. I suppose they were shiny enough that they caught your eye.”

“Do you sing too?”

“When we feel like it,” said his mum. “We used to sing and play you to sleep every night with a special lullaby. Aletha composed it for us when you were just a few months old and cranky. It would put you out like that.” She snapped her fingers.

There seemed to be no limit on how good this day could get, Neville thought. “Can I hear it?”

His parents looked at each other for a moment. “All right,” said his mum, resettling herself on the couch. “Let’s see...” She hummed a note, and his dad came in with a low harmony line.

Dearest child, go to sleep.

Earth is quiet, skies so deep

Now do neither smile nor weep.

Sleep, my baby, sleep.

Lovely child, hush-a-bye.

Sleep until the sunny eye

Of morning brightens up the sky.

Bye, my baby, bye.

Sleep, my child, until this night

Is over and the dawn’s first light

Does make the flowers all bloom bright.

Night, my love, good night.

xXxXx

Red yarn wound around brown fingers as Meghan worked diligently on her crochet project. She had begun it soon after meeting Neville, and she knew she was nowhere near finished, but it didn’t matter. She had years yet.

Her mind wandered as her fingers looped and pulled in rhythm. I hope his parents like me. I hope I like them. I hope they like what we made for them...

She looked up at a slight squeak of hinges. Neville was peering out of the room where he’d been closeted with his parents for nearly two hours now, and he was looking straight at her. She quickly held up the gold-leather-bound book she’d had a house-elf bring her from his dorm. He smiled and beckoned her closer.

Meghan shot a glance at her mother, who nodded to her and waved her onward. She tied off her work so it wouldn’t unravel, got to her feet, and carried the book to Neville.

“I should have known you’d have it ready,” he told her quietly. “Will you help me show it to them?”

“But I’m not in most of it.”

“But you know about it. And we made this together. We should show it together.”

In the back of Meghan’s heart, a secret fear eased. Neville wouldn’t stop liking her just because he had his parents back. She would still be part of his life.

But it’ll be even better now, I think...

She stepped into the room, and Neville shut the door behind her.

xXxXx

Alice wasn’t terribly surprised when both children began to yawn shortly after noon. Aletha had warned them that Neville might well be tired for a time after he woke, and Alice had no doubt the same went for Meghan, whose power it had been that allowed the healing in the first place. Frank saw it too, and with a little deft maneuvering, got Neville and Meghan ensconced together in one of the room’s large armchairs.

Within a few minutes, Meghan’s head was resting on Neville’s shoulder, and Neville himself was blinking sleepily. “’M sorry,” he said on the tail end of a yawn. “Just so tired...”

“You sleep,” Frank told him. “We’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“We love you.” Alice kissed his cheek. “Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Mum. Dad.” A smile blossomed on Neville’s face as his eyes drifted shut. He shifted his weight once, to accommodate Meghan better, then he was still.

Alice picked up the photograph album which Neville and Meghan had been showing them for the past hour or so. She flipped to near the back, where rested the pictures of the group the two called the Pride. She turned the pages, noticing how, in almost every photograph, Meghan stood next to Neville, or very near him. There were a few pictures of him with just the other boys of the group, but in every group picture, her son and Sirius Black’s daughter were side by side.

“You see it too, then,” said Frank from over her shoulder.

“I thought Letha might be exaggerating, but it seems not.”

“They’re very comfortable with each other.” Frank looked at the pair in the armchair. “Not to mention cute as the dickens. Quite honestly, I don’t see a problem.”

“Nor do I. It might become one as they get older, but at the moment, they’re good friends, and that’s something everyone needs.”

“And friendship can always grow into something more.” Frank winked at her. “You know that.”

Alice elbowed him. “You were just too shy to date me properly, or even propose. Every other woman I know has this romantic story about how her husband proposed marriage to her. I have, ‘Well, I suppose we’ll be getting married one of these days.’”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

xXxXx

Sirius knocked on the door of the Defense teacher’s quarters. “Moony? Danger? You in there?”

There was no reply. Sirius knocked again, louder. “Hello?”

Still no reply. Sirius frowned and tried the door. It swung open under his hand, and he stepped into the darkened living area. “Anyone home?”

Silence answered him. A little worried, he felt for his wand as he moved through the room. Remus didn’t usually sleep this late, and even if Danger had wanted a lie-in, Remus would have been awake and telling Sirius to shut up by now.

Something’s not right here.

Carefully, he twisted the doorknob of the master bedroom. The door opened, and he peered in, squinting to let his eyes adjust to the darkness within.

Remus lay alone in the bed, snoring gently. There was no sign of Danger.

I don’t like this. Sirius transformed into Padfoot and began to sniff around. Danger had been here, that was certain. From the scent, she had slept in the bed all night, the way she should. But at some point a couple of hours ago, he guessed, she’d gotten up, gone to the bathroom – his nose wrinkled at the odors coming from there, odors he’d have been able to detect even in human form – and now she was somewhere else.

Where?

He followed her scent across the hall to the other bedroom, and into it, over to...

What in the world is she doing in the closet?

Tentatively, he retransformed and reached for the doorknob. “Danger? You in there?”

“Go AWAY!” screamed Danger’s voice, and a blast of fire shot out of the barely opened door. Sirius yelled and dropped to the ground, and the fire vanished before it could hit anything.

“That was a warning shot,” said Danger, sounding hoarse and unhappy. “The next one won’t be. Go away, Sirius. I don’t want to see you.”

Sirius got to his feet and backed away from the closet, sitting down on the bed. “Are you ill?” he asked.

“No, I’m just fine . In the bloom of health. Now will you please leave?”

“No. You’re not fine, not if you’re upset enough to be shooting firebolts around. And why isn’t Remus awake yet? We’re making enough noise.”

“He’s not awake because I charmed him asleep. I didn’t want anyone to bother me right now. Is that all right with you, or do I need to check with you every time I need a little privacy?” The words were bitter and angry, but Sirius sensed something else beneath them, something oddly familiar.

“You’ve been acting a little strange for months,” he said conversationally. “Not quite yourself. People are starting to notice. Is there something going on I can help with?”

“No... well...” There was a shaky laugh from the closet. “Yes, I suppose you could help, but you wouldn’t. Not if you’re the man I think you are. Because it would be so incredibly wrong... we’d be breaking at least a dozen sets of promises, not to mention how weird it would be... I suppose, though, it’s a little inevitable I should think about it, with my name and all.”

Her name? “Which name is this?”

“Gertrude. With what she did... but wait, that’s right, you don’t read Shakespeare. You don’t know what she did. Go away.”

“No. Let me think.” Sirius played with a string on the bedspread, remembering everything he could about that particular Shakespeare play. Gertrude is from Hamlet. She’s Hamlet’s mother, and Hamlet’s angry with her for marrying her dead husband’s brother...

Oh my God...

“Danger, you don’t... this isn’t... you’re not jealous of Letha. Are you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you mangy bum-sniffer,” she snapped. Then her voice rose into a wail. “Oh, Lord, I’m making a mess of this. Go away !”

Suddenly Sirius realized why this felt familiar to him. Just after Halloween, two years ago...

Think, Padfoot. I know you don’t do it much, but do it now. Something has Danger really upset. And she charmed Remus asleep, which means she doesn’t want him to know about it. Which means it’s something about him. Something I could help with, but I won’t, or I shouldn’t. And something related to... yeah. Maybe it’s something I can do that Remus can’t...

Ego aside, one difference came immediately to mind. Sirius would have discarded it, except that as he thought it over, it made more and more sense. And Moody used to say, go with your first reaction, it’s most likely to be right...

“Danger?”

A frustrated shriek rose from behind the door. “Why won’t you just leave me alone? ”

“Because crying your eyes out in the closet isn’t going to solve anything. Are you going to hurt me if I open the door?”

“Yes!”

“All right.” Sirius drew his wand and pointed it at himself, murmuring a mid-power fireproofing spell. Now I’m protected if she flames me. If she changes forms, I think I still remember how to take down a wolf from Hogwarts days. And if she pulls something else...

Well, I’ll just have to be ready for it.

He opened the door. Danger glared up at him from her huddled position in the corner and told him to go do something that Aletha wouldn’t appreciate at all, then followed it up with a suggestion for an unpleasant dietary supplement.

“You are in a mood.” Sirius lit his wand, stepped into the closet, and pulled the door shut behind him. “Danger, what’s this all about?”

“It’s none of your business! ” She added a description of him that would have tallied with what the Daily Prophet was printing while he was in Azkaban.

“Things that affect the Pack are my business. And this is obviously not just going to go away. You’re reminding me a lot of Letha, a couple years back. You remember, after the cubs’ first Halloween here, when Meghan started showing an interest in Healing?”

Danger flinched at the mention of Meghan’s name. Sirius’ eyes narrowed. I’m getting closer...

“This started over the summer, I think. After Draco ran away, and we got him back.”

Danger snorted. “It wasn’t that . You men, you’re all alike, think it’s all about you.”

Something else, then. But something around that time, and something about the girls...

“Neenie started her cycles that night. Is this related to that?”

Danger’s whole body stiffened for an instant. “Get out,” she said, baring her teeth.

“No. I don’t abandon a trail just when it starts getting easier to follow.” On a hunch, Sirius changed forms again and sniffed. Danger’s scent was all around him, rank with powerful negative emotions – anger and fear and guilt and something he had a hard time pinning down, save that it was not pleasant in the least. And there was something else, something physical rather than emotional, but it was related to the emotions, and might even be the cause of some of them...

That can’t be the whole answer, but it has to be part of it. He snorted slightly. And tonight’s full moon. Wonderful. They have coinciding times of the month...

That thought set off a chain reaction in his mind. Time of the month. Something Remus can’t do. Hermione becoming a woman – the Longbottoms and Neville – Draco thinking about his father...

The unidentified scent was suddenly clear to him. Envy. Raw jealousy, for something Danger knew she’d never have.

He changed back. “You want a child,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even and free of emotion, even the embarrassment struggling to show itself on his face. He couldn’t afford it now. “You want to have a baby.”

Danger’s breath was coming short as she glared at him. Her eyes could have set things on fire – and for once, that’s not a metaphor. Sirius swallowed surreptitiously and prayed his protections would work.

Danger braced herself against the floor with both hands, tipped her head back, and screamed. Flames erupted all around the closet. Sirius flinched away automatically, but felt nothing. Then, daring greatly, he scooted himself forward and touched her, feeling the tension of her muscles beneath her skin. Have to keep it low key, brotherly at all costs...

“Sssh,” he told her, pulling her to him gently. “Sssh, it’s all right.”

Her scream died away, and the flames with it. “It is not, ” she said hoarsely, shoving at him, but he wouldn’t let her go. “It is not all right. I’m bad, I’m bad to want it, I’m bad to want anything else when I have so much...”

“You’re not bad. How could you ever think that?”

“I am. I don’t love him enough, I’m not good enough for it not to matter to me...”

“Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you should give up your own dreams.” God, I sound like a character in one of my own novels.

“It does if the dream will hurt them.” She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sirius, I don’t dare tell him about this. He’d take it all wrong – he’d think it meant I don’t love him because we can’t have children, and that’s not true...” Her face crumpled again.

“I think I understand,” said Sirius, praying he was right. “You love Remus exactly the way he is, and you wouldn’t change anything about him. You’re afraid that if he knew about this, he’d feel either that you regretted loving him, or that he’d failed you somehow. But it’s tearing you apart inside.”

She nodded.

Sirius took a moment to put his thoughts together. “I don’t know if you should tell him about this or not,” he said. “I promise you no one will find out from me, though. This stays between us, unless you tell someone about it.”

Danger sniffed. “Thank you.”

“That’s what big brothers are for, isn’t it?”

“You’re not that much bigger than me.”

“Oh, really?” Sirius squeezed her just a little tighter. “But remember this. It’s not by Remus’ choice that he can’t give you children. It’s part of something he never wanted, and I’m sure he’d get rid of it if he could...”

He realized too late that he’d just put his foot in it, as Danger tensed up again. And I was just getting her to settle down. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I could have gotten rid of it for him. I could have changed everything – maybe even made it so Harry never had to face Voldemort – I don’t know, but I know I could have helped Remus! And I didn’t, and now I’ll never have the chance again...”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Before your trial. When I was gone. I could have made it so that you’d all be safe and happy for the rest of your lives...”

Oh. “If I remember right, that offer had a price tag on it. Spelled D-A-N-G-E-R. Am I right?”

“That doesn’t matter – what matters is that I had the chance, and I didn’t take it!”

“It doesn’t matter?” Sirius stared down at her. “Hell, yes, it matters! I don’t care what advantages we got from it, or what else might have changed. None of us would be happy without you. Especially not Remus. Didn’t he tell you that himself?”

Danger wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“That’s what I thought. He came after you, remember that? And he told you point-blank that he’d be happy to transform every night of his life, as long as he knew he’d see you in the morning. Danger, he loves you. You , not just what you do for him. And he knows you love him back. I can’t say he won’t be hurt if you tell him this – he’s not perfect, and no one likes being reminded that there are things he can’t do – but I can promise you he won’t think you don’t love him because of this.”

He felt the tension gradually leaving Danger’s body. “How’d you get so smart?” she asked finally.

“Practice.” Sirius pushed the hair out of her face and looked down at her. “Danger, I swear to you, you’re not bad. There’s nothing wrong with wanting children – most women do, I think it’s in their genes somewhere, like belching and Quidditch are for men.”

“Oh. Well, if that’s all this is to you – if it’s only as important as a good burp and a stupid game...”

“That’s not what I said,” Sirius began, then felt her shaking in his arms and realized it wasn’t with tears. “Why, you little...”

“Yes?” She looked up at him, smiling cheekily.

“You’re horrible.”

“Thank you. Honestly, Sirius, I couldn’t resist – belching and Quidditch?” She laughed aloud, shakily but still a laugh. “Thank you,” she said again. “Thank you for listening, and for being there, and for not going away.”

“Despite your telling me to repeatedly.”

“Exactly.”

“You know, this is why men don’t understand women. How are we supposed to know when ‘go away’ really means ‘go away,’ and when it means ‘I need you, come here’?”

“You seem to be doing pretty well.”

“I’m just too dumb to take a hint. An intelligent man would have been out that door the instant you nearly burned his nose off.”

She scowled at him. “You stole my comeback line.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Like hell you are.”

“You see, this is what isn’t fair. Men can’t understand women, but women get to understand men. Or at least figure out some of what they mean.”

“No one ever said life would be fair.” Danger heaved a sigh. “I suppose I need to remember that. And count my blessings. I have children, even if they weren’t born to me. I got to watch them grow up, and help them along the way. It’s more than a lot of women get. I should be grateful.”

“Danger?”

“Hmm?”

“If there’s ever anything I can do – besides...”

“You didn’t think I meant that, did you?” Danger shoved him, laughing. “First Letha would kill us, then Remus would resurrect us and kill us again, and then we’d get the fallout from breaking the Pack-oath...”

“At least we don’t have magical marriage oaths to break. Both our marriages were Muggle-style.”

“They’re still legal, aren’t they?”

“Oh, legal, of course. But some magical marriages have other things bound into them. Things that are often a tad more repressive to the witch than to the wizard...”

“No big surprises there. So you’re saying that if we were married magically, and we did... ah...”

“Stray?”

“Yes, that. That I’d be in more trouble than you would?”

“With a contract like my parents had, I wouldn’t be in any trouble at all. I think my dad had a new girlfriend every few months. But Mum, of course, never strayed. She couldn’t.”

“Makes sense, I suppose, if you’re interested in preserving the purity of the line. With that kind of system, there’s no way any, shall we say, adulterating factors could creep into the bloodline...”

Sirius snickered. “D’you think that’s why they call it adultery?”

“Quite possibly.” Danger sighed. “And I should get out of this closet and go take that spell off Remus. This is not the way to spend Christmas.”

“I beg to differ. Do you feel better now?”

“Well... yes.”

“Then this was a fine way to spend Christmas. And it isn’t over yet, not nearly. Go wake up your husband and wash your face, and I’ll go see about some Christmas dinner for us. And a little horsie told me that the rest of the cubs ought to be awake tomorrow.”

“The rest?”

“Oh, that’s right, I never got a chance to tell you – Neville and Meghan are awake. Or they were. They might be asleep again by now. But they were up for a while, and Alice and Frank got to meet their son and his best friend.”

“Sirius, that’s wonderful. But – oh, now you’ve gone and missed Meghan’s being awake, just for me – you shouldn’t have...”

Sirius gripped Danger’s shoulders and shook her gently. “Enough with the guilt already. The world’s not about to end because I didn’t see Meghan awake today. I’ll see her tomorrow. And I helped you. You’re worth it, and don’t start in that you’re not, because I won’t put up with it. All right?”

Danger sagged, then nodded. “You know me way too well.”

“Side effect of the whole Pack thing.”

She embraced him. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime.”

“Really?” Her eyes sparked mischief. “Any time?”

Sirius groaned and pushed the closet door open.

xXxXx

Albus Dumbledore stepped out of his fireplace and lowered the hood of his cloak. Home for the holidays. And with the prize I went to gain. He removed a small bottle from his pocket and set it inside one of the drawers of his desk, which he locked securely with his wand.

Now to catch up on the news here...

Fawkes appeared in a flash of fire and soared to Dumbledore’s shoulder, trilling cheerfully. Dumbledore smiled. His friend would not be so happy if anything had gone severely wrong in his absence.

“How go things, friends?” he asked the portraits hanging on the wall. Several of them volunteered answers, all of which amounted to the same things – everything was all right, nothing out of the ordinary...

“Oh, except that young couple you were interested in,” said Phineas Nigellus, stepping into his frame and leaning on the back of his chair. “The ones my three-greats-granddaughter was trying to help, whatever their names are. Shortbottom or something.”

Dumbledore hid a smile. Phineas never forgot a name, and was as addicted to gossip as any witch, but he tried to hide it, and most of the time Dumbledore let him get away with it. “Yes, and what news of them?”

“They seem to be all right. Moving about under their own power, and their conversation is no madder than any I’ve heard lately. They’ll probably be along at some point to see you.”

“Or perhaps I will go to see them,” said Dumbledore, holding out his arm so that Fawkes could sidle down to his perch. “Have they had Christmas dinner yet?”

“They’re just getting ready to sit down. In a suite on the fourth floor, I think.”

“Then I believe I shall join them there.” Dumbledore took off his cloak and hung it up, then went to change into his holiday robes. “The staff will forgive me if this once I take dinner with some old friends.”

xXxXx

“Ronald!” scolded Hermione, smacking Ron’s hand. “You’re not supposed to take thirds!”

“Why not? It’s a dream, Hermione. We’re not going to get stomachaches or anything, and there’s always more. Why shouldn’t I have thirds?”

“Just... just because!”

Ron looked at Harry and Draco. “Just because,” he repeated. “Does she make any sense to you?”

Harry shook his head. Draco looked thoughtful. “I think she means, ‘Because I’m going to be sick if I watch you eat any more,’ but she’s too polite to say it,” he said.

Hermione bristled. “That is not what I mean!”

“Then what do you mean?” asked Ron, looking at her in bewilderment. “Just because – because what?”

“Because I think we’re going to wake up soon, and we haven’t even had a decent game of hide-and-go-seek.”

“Oh.” Ron set down the spoon. “Why didn’t you say so? Not Seeker.”

“Not Seeker,” chorused Harry and Hermione, with Draco and Ginny an instant behind them.

“I suppose I’m the Seeker, then,” said Luna. “How much should I count to?”

“Do a hundred by fives,” said Harry. “On your marks, get set, go!”

Animals raced into the brush on all sides. A white owl hid her head beneath her wing and began to hoot to herself.

One of the first rules of the Pride was, Have fun whenever you can.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 13: Close Call and Christmas (Year 3)


Chapter 13: Close Call and Christmas

Remus lay next to a sleeping Danger, breathing quietly, trying to get to sleep himself. But for some reason, perhaps because he had slept so late today – he’d been in bed till after noon, something he almost never did – he was wide awake.

He slid his nose under her neck, hoping to calm himself with her scent, then pulled back, startled.

What in the world?

His wolf emotions clamored that an enemy must be near. With a practiced hand, Remus reigned them in and brought his human mind to bear on the situation.

She was seriously upset about something earlier today. But she seemed fine when I woke up – she was good company all day, and she doesn’t have that edgy feeling to her anymore that I’ve been noticing for a little while now.

He licked around his jaws in thought. If she was all right when I woke up, then something obviously happened before I woke up. But she must not think I need to know about it, or she would have told me...

He felt a flash of unease. The last time something happened that she didn’t think I needed to know about, it was that spell that backfired on her. If I’d known about that, I might have been able to get it off us earlier.

Quickly, before he could talk himself out of it, he slid into her mind and moved down through layers of memory, trotting along in an illusory form which flickered from wolf to human to lion as he moved. I won’t pry, he told himself. This isn’t prying. I’ll just look at this one thing, work out what to do about it, and surprise her with it in the morning. She’ll thank me for it later.

Show me what happened this morning, he told Danger’s mind. Whatever had you so worked up that I can still smell it more than twelve hours later...

Something very solid loomed up before him. He backpedaled frantically, just avoiding slamming into it. It was the solidest block he’d ever seen in Danger’s mind.

She really doesn’t want me knowing about this, whatever it is.

He felt guilty. I should get out of her mind, stop spying on her. She deserves privacy, her own secrets, just like I do...

But I don’t keep secrets from her. At least, not many. And not something this big.

So I won’t try to break this. She’d know if I did, and that would be prying. But it isn’t wrong just to sit here and listen...

For scraps of thought were drifting out from behind the block, though the main event remained solidly out of his reach. He sat very still and let the images and snatches of conversation drift into his eyes and ears, one by one...

Danger in Sirius’ arms, crying her heart out.

“Sirius, I don’t dare tell him about this.”

Danger smiling up at Sirius with her best roguish charm, that impish smile Remus had always loved on her.

“He’s not awake because I charmed him asleep.”

Sirius looking back at Danger with his own devil-may-care grin, snickering.

“D’you think that’s why they call it adultery?”

Remus yelped aloud, jerking backwards and out of Danger’s mind. He shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of those images, those words.

No. No! That’s ridiculous! They wouldn’t – they can’t have –

I’m taking this wrong, I have to be. Those were just little snatches of their conversation, it can’t possibly mean...

His breath was coming a little faster. A conversation. A long conversation. While I was asleep. Charmed asleep, it would seem... to get me out of the way?

Stop this, now, he told himself severely. There’s some perfectly good reason why they were...

Alone, together, in a little room. Holding each other like that, and laughing, and crying. And something Danger doesn’t dare tell me – and Sirius, joking about adultery –

The wolf’s emotions were rising again, and this time, Remus let them. His breathing was coming still faster now, and a mist seemed to be settling before his eyes, clouding what he could see. In his nostrils was the smell of one he had once called friend, but no longer – for he would call no one friend who would steal his mate –

But does it count as stealing if she goes to him willingly?

He began to shake with rage. He could still see, on the backs of his eyelids, Danger smiling cheekily at Sirius – that puckish smile he so adored, and had thought was kept for him alone –

It seems I was wrong.

He had been betrayed, betrayed by those he thought he could trust, those he had trusted for so many years –

How long has this been going on? And how have I been so blind to it before now?

His mind was presenting him with a slideshow of a thousand little moments between Sirius and Danger, moments which had seemed utterly innocent, the playful banter between a brother and sister. But Remus could see, now, with utterly clear hindsight, the clasp of hands held a little too long, an embrace that lingered a bit beyond the merely brotherly, jokes made when he wasn’t listening – at his expense, perhaps?

I will not tolerate this. No more.

Anger was flooding through him. His claws were flexing in and out. Dimly he recognized what was happening – the wolf, it’s waking, it’s going to take me over – but he didn’t care. Not as long as the wolf’s fury would be properly targeted.

This one! he shouted, tearing Sirius’ image and scent from his memory and placing it foremost in the wolf’s mind. This one has taken your mate – he seeks your place – he will think you are weak tonight, and sleeping – you must strike at him before he strikes at you again!

Yes, the wolf growled. Yes! Kill the usurper, kill his mate and cub – end the tainted bloodline –

What? No!

But it was too late. The wolf was firmly in control. Yes. Kill. Too long with no killing – too long with no blood. Blood tonight.

No! Remus shouted at the wolf, but he knew it was futile.

What have I done – they won’t have a chance, they’ll be murdered in their sleep – what was I thinking, I must have been out of my mind –

You, the wolf snarled at him. Down!

He had no choice. At the full moon, the wolf was stronger than he. But before it could dominate him completely, Remus screamed one word, unsure if it had reached its mark or if it had even left his mind, but knowing it was his only chance to save himself and his Pack.

Danger!

Then he fell into darkness, despairing.

xXxXx

Danger!

She started awake. Remus? What’s – OW!

The werewolf’s claws had scored lines across her shoulder. You, it snarled into her mind – it , for there was no trace of her husband in the eyes that glared at her, and the speech was in the image-fragments of a maddened animal. You – with him –

The scent-sight-sound package accompanying the word made the “him” Sirius, and the “with” the werewolf used had a distinct connotation to it –

No! Danger cried in shock. Never!

I saw. I heard. You did . The werewolf stood over her, teeth bared. You will no more. I kill him. I kill his blood. Then I teach you. You will not stray again. You are mine !

I belong to no one that way! Danger retorted without thinking, then howled in pain as the werewolf struck her again.

You belong to me. You will learn. After I teach the other. He must die. The werewolf bounded out of the room.

The other – he means Sirius!

Danger staggered to her feet, wincing – blood was dripping down her shoulder into her fur, the cuts hurt like hell, but she couldn’t think about that now – not when Remus was about to –

A slam resounded through their quarters, and an angry snarl. Then another slam. Another, and this one accompanied by the distinct sound of splintering wood –

NO! She was in the office now, charging across the floor space, knocking Remus aside just as he was setting up for another run at the door, one which would almost certainly have got him through it –

NO! Remus, you can’t! She was on him now, pinning him down, but not for long as he slashed at her again. She flinched back automatically, but refused to run. Skin to skin is what does it – I have to get through the fur somehow –

She had hesitated too long. The werewolf leapt onto her and buried its teeth in her scruff, biting down hard. Danger howled again, almost losing control of her form, but clung to her wolf shape desperately. I can’t change now – if I do, he’ll kill me, and then we’ll both be lost –

Remus, please! Come back to me – don’t do this!

The furry body atop her own quivered suddenly as if it had been struck. The jaws bearing down on her opened slowly, releasing her.

Danger?

She exhaled shakily in relief at the sound of his voice, tentative and frightened though it was. Yes. Yes. It’s me.

Remus slid gracelessly off her, landing with a thud on the floor, his eyes human once more but terrified. They darted around the room, noticing everything. You – you’re hurt, you’re bleeding – your blood, I can taste it, it’s on my claws and my teeth – and the door – oh, God, what did I do? What did I do?

Nothing , Danger assured him quickly, moving to lie next to him. Nothing, you didn’t do anything. You didn’t get out. And I’m fine, I’ll be fine. I’ve been hurt worse.

Your shoulder – your neck – I did that – and Sirius – A wave of his panic rolled over Danger. I wanted to kill him! I wanted to kill him, and I let the wolf out – it would have killed him, and Aletha, and Meghan – I would have done that, it would have been my fault...

Remus, what happened?

She felt him shudder. God have mercy, Danger, I never meant any of this to happen...

I know. I know. Will you tell me?

I was wrong. I’m so sorry. I should never have done it.

Done what?

I went in – into your mind – I could tell you’d been upset about something, and I wanted to know what – Danger, please, the truth – are you and Sirius – is there anything going on between you?

The emotional tangle that accompanied these words was too complex for Danger to sort through on short notice. She set it away for later examination. No, she said “aloud,” opening her mind to Remus fully, so that he could see that she spoke the truth. Nothing like that. There never has been.

Relief inundated her first, then sorrow and shame, as Remus began to shake with what, if he’d been human at the moment, would have been sobs. All this, then – for nothing...

Danger nosed his ear gently, then began to lick his fur, offering comfort as best she could. I love you, she told him. In this way, I love only you. There was never anyone else.

And I would love to know what made you think there was...

Keeping half an ear on Remus, and continuing to groom him, she began to sort through the snarl of emotions she’d received from him earlier. Fear was certainly present, fear that he might be right in his assumption, but also fear that he might be wrong.

My poor love. He can’t win either way.

Anger, at what he presumed Sirius had done, and jealousy – disgust and loathing – and something very odd and complex. A feeling that he somehow deserved this, that it was somehow only right that Danger and Sirius be having an affair, that it was nothing more than his just reward for –

For what?

He said he went into my mind. But we’re so open to each other, he must have known I wouldn’t mind him looking at almost anything – what could he have seen, that he’d think he deserved that?

Very gently, she probed the question further, and suddenly everything became clear.

Oh, good Lord. I almost want to tease him about it, about eavesdroppers never hearing anything good – but no, not now, not when he’s so torn up. Maybe next week, or next year. Not now.

She fitted the curve of her body into his. He was still shaking, but it was better now than it had been. Thank you for the truth, she said quietly.

You’re welcome. His voice was still on the verge of tears, but slowly backing away. I’m so incredibly sorry, Danger – neither of you had ever given me any cause to think such a thing, and I just went and leapt to conclusions based on scraps of a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear...

Are you quite finished lamenting and beating your breast?

Yes, I think so.

Good. Can we go back to the bedroom, then?

Remus laughed ever so slightly. You and Neenie – you hardly ever seem to lose your cool over anything...

But when we do, watch out, right?

Something like that.

Danger got carefully to her feet, favoring her bad shoulder. We can fix the door first thing in the morning. No one ever needs to know about this.

Oh, yes, they do. I owe Sirius an apology, for one. And you are getting those scratches seen to. It can stay in the Pack if you insist, but it has to go at least that far.

Danger sighed. All right. That far, but no farther. And why in the world do you think you owe Sirius an apology?

Remus looked at her as if she’d grown another head. For assuming he’d do something I should have known he never would?

Remus, people have misjudged their friends before. Sometimes those misjudgments have very bad consequences. And sometimes, like right now, they get nipped in the bud, before anything too terrible can happen. I lost a little blood, and our door took a beating. That’s all.

Yes, but for me to assume you were doing something together, when he was just holding you that way because...

Uh-oh. Danger gulped as Remus stopped walking and turned his head to look at her.

Come to think of it, he said slowly, I don’t think you ever actually told me what you two were doing in that room together. Just what you weren’t.

Danger’s throat closed in panic. I’m not ready for this – I hadn’t decided yet – I don’t know what to say –

What is it? Remus’ voice, surprised and urgent, broke into her madly scurrying thoughts. Are you all right?

I don’t know, she replied inanely, staring at the floor beneath her paws as though it might give her insight. Am I?

Not by your scent, or by your thoughts. Danger – Remus’ voice hardened slightly – I want your word that Sirius hasn’t hurt you in any way.

No! Of course not! Relief made her momentarily light-headed. He didn’t hurt me. He was helping me. I’d thought of something – it was like this, like panicking, only it was something else, something that made me sad – I did it to myself, Sirius helped make it better.

And just what is it that you did to yourself?

Danger gathered her thoughts and found a compromise, something acceptable to both of them, she hoped. Remus, can you trust me?

With my life, or more than that. What is it you need? For me to leave this alone?

Not for the first time, Danger blessed whatever deity – or other supernatural being – had sent her such a wonderful husband. Yes. But only for a little while. Only long enough for us both to get over what’s happened tonight. Then, if you still want to know, I will tell you. But it’s only fair to warn you that it may hurt you to hear, and that it’s nothing either of us can change.

I understand. His voice was heavy.

And I can also tell you what it isn’t. It isn’t anything like “I’m tired of you” or “I want to leave you” or “There’s someone else” or anything like that. There isn’t anyone else, and there never has been. I never want to stop being married to you. And I am not having an affair with your best friend. All right?

All right – though I think I may go crazy trying to figure out what it is before you tell me, Remus teased. Danger’s heart rejoiced at the light tones in his voice. What did I ever do to deserve a woman like you?

You were born, and grew up to become this most utterly lovable man that you are, whom I don’t deserve in the slightest.

Haven’t we been over this?

Yes, but it’s always nice to go there again.

Hmm. That gives me an idea.

Oh?

Remus lay down on their pile of bedclothes and arranged himself to make room for Danger. You’re not the only one allowed to have secrets. Though this won’t be one for very long.

Well, if you insist. Danger lay down beside him. I do love a romantic man.

You do? Is he taller than me?

Laughter accompanied them both to their destination.

xXxXx

On a broad stone terrace under a bright full moon, they danced.

She was all in white, with lilies-of-the-valley in her hair. He wore black and red, with a tiny sweetheart rose in his buttonhole. They had eyes only for each other.

In the shadows, an unseen figure raised an imaginary glass, toasting them.

“This will come to pass again one day,” he murmured to himself, so softly that no one else heard. “And when it does, all your dreams will have come true.”

xXxXx

She opened her eyes, and thought for a moment that she hadn’t, because she couldn’t see much of anything. Then she realized that with her eyes open, the darkness around her had a distinctly brown quality to it, and that something soft and thick and fibrous lay over her face.

Stupid hair. Maybe I should get it cut short, it’s always in the way, and such a pain to wash... at least I have a wand to get it dry quickly, I don’t know how Muggle girls manage...

Hermione brought her arm slowly around – slowly because she didn’t really have the energy for anything quick – and cleared her face. She wasn’t incredibly surprised to see that there wasn’t much to see now, either. A low, bumpy, sepia-toned landscape lay in front of her, and she could hear other people breathing around her.

It’s just dark in here, so I can’t see much color. This must be where they put us after we all fell asleep.

She thought back. She and Ron had spent quite a while trying to get their magic aligned – they seemed to butt heads more easily than anything, and the more things she thought of to make it work, the worse it got. Finally, she had backed off, made her own magic as receptive to his as possible, and only helped him when he asked for it. Well, and once when he didn’t. But that was just his stupid male pride, refusing to admit he didn’t understand something. Within a few seconds, they’d been in full harmony.

I have a feeling I was supposed to learn something from that, but I don’t much care for being manipulated into learning things.

Not even if they’re good for you? asked a voice that sounded quite a lot like Moony at his quietest and most ironic.

Especially not then. Hermione pulled away from this line of thought and continued remembering.

After we linked, then Ron linked with Ginny, and suddenly we were in with everyone. That was a moment worth remembering – the rush of Pride-magic through her veins, all the different feelings and colors and scents at once. Sorting out whose was whose hadn’t been nearly as difficult as she might have thought.

Then Neville and Meghan went in, and there was a draining sort of feeling, a little scary, but not too much, because I could feel that we were so strong it would take them a long time to drain us all the way. And when we started to sing, we had even more power.

It had been a fine time overall. There had been some worry for Meghan and Neville, but the link to them was still evident, their magics still present in the circle, so no one had fussed too much. The worst clashes had been over what carols or songs to do next, and most of those had diffused in laughter rather than anger. It had sometimes been confusing, since everyone had forgotten at least once not to think “aloud” and broadcast their thoughts over the link, but nothing terribly embarrassing had happened.

Being in full-bond like that was... not quite comfortable, but right. Not the sort of thing I’d want to do every day, but not something I’d never do again, either. There’d have to be a good reason for it, though.

Finally, there had been an enormous pull of power, staggering everyone for a moment, but they’d recovered quickly to keep the thread of the song going, and within about a minute, they’d felt Neville and Meghan returning, fatigued but joyous. The message they bore – We think it worked – spread around the link just ahead of the wave of exhaustion radiating from them. Hermione’d had barely enough time to settle herself in a comfortable pose before it hit her, catapulting her into sleep.

And then dreams. I don’t remember much – Neville was unhappy about something or other – oh, that’s right, about not waking up for so long. Those five days he and Meghan needed to recover looked like big books they were carrying. She smiled to herself. They looked like me in the morning, before class. And all of us only had two, so we decided to reallocate things.

Each of the six members of the Pride who had been support staff had taken one book from either Neville or Meghan, redistributing the amount of recovery time needed across the whole Pride. Then the scene had faded into something vague but enjoyable. A forest, and a dinner there. I remember playing in cat form, and I think there was some excitement, but it passed.

But speaking of dinner...

She was quite hungry, Hermione discovered. She sat up carefully, just in case she got dizzy or light-headed, but nothing of the sort happened. Other than hunger and a general need to use the bathroom, she felt fine.

She had just enough warning to brace herself, as something large hurtled through the dim air to land on her knees.

“Crookshanks! You scared me!” She looked around the comfortable, round room. “The door’s closed. How did you get in?”

Crookshanks gave her a look which seemed to say, You ought to know by now that cats do whatever they want.

“Well, you can just wait here.” Hermione dumped the cat off her lap and got up. “I don’t think you’ll like where I’m going. Too much water.”

Crookshanks curled up and began to wash his side, with an injured expression. When Hermione returned, though, he deigned to get back onto her lap and sit there, looking gloriously ineffable and purring loudly enough that Hermione was amazed the others didn’t wake up.

Which they didn’t. Not for quite a while. Hermione had located her wristwatch – lying on the mantelpiece, along with everyone else’s incidental belongings of that sort – so she knew what time it was, and just how long it had been since she’d awakened.

Finally, she got tired of waiting.

“Care to speed things along?” she asked Crookshanks.

xXxXx

Harry awoke from rather muddled dreams of soft red flowers to someone pushing rhythmically on his arm, seemingly using a few fingers from each hand.

“Go’way,” he muttered, rolling onto his side and pulling his blankets over his head.

The pushing continued, and got harder. Now there were little prickles of pain involved as well, as if the person were digging in fingernails –

Or claws?

Harry pulled the blanket off his face and scowled at Crookshanks. “Scat.”

The cat walked very deliberately up to him, looked at him sideways for a moment, then leaned over and licked his nose with a scratchy tongue before turning and strolling away.

“About time you woke up,” said Hermione’s voice from across the room. Harry pushed himself upright and squinted in that direction – the combination of the dim light and being without his glasses made her doubly hard to see, and he pinpointed her more by virtue of her being the tallest thing over there than anything else. “I’ve been awake nearly half an hour, just watching the rest of you sleep.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to this, so he settled for another topic of conversation. “Do you know where my glasses are?”

“On the mantelpiece. Hold on a second.” The tall thing across the room became even taller, then moved sideways. A few moments later, it had resolved itself into Hermione, squatting down in front of him to hand him his glasses.

“Thanks.” Harry took them and put them on. The room came into clearer focus. Ron lay sprawled against the wall nearby. Ginny was next to him, her hair fanned out artistically across her pillow. In the middle of the room lay Luna, one arm over her head. Draco was curled up a few feet from her.

“What’s today, do you know?” he asked, realizing he didn’t.

“No, but it ought to be Boxing Day, if we all slept three days. So we’ve only missed Christmas by one day, and it really doesn’t matter, because we’re all here, and we’ll have our dinner and our presents just the same.”

“I don’t see Meghan,” said Harry, looking around the room again. “Or Neville. I know they were supposed to wake up yesterday. I wonder where they are?”

“Probably with Neville’s parents,” said Hermione. “If it worked. I think it did, but we’ll have to wait and find out.”

“Should we wake the others?”

“Little late to be thinking of that, isn’t it?” said Ron, turning over with a yawn. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” Harry and Hermione wished him together.

“How did you sleep?” asked Hermione.

“Fine, I guess. I don’t really know. I don’t notice much while I’m asleep.”

Hermione giggled. Draco stirred at the sound.

“I’ll be back in a second,” said Harry, standing up. “Bathroom.”

“Me too.” Ron got quickly to his feet, one hand on the wall for balance.

By the time they both returned to the main room, Ginny and Luna were awake as well. Draco claimed next turn in the bathroom, with the younger girls after him.

“Did anyone else dream of a forest?” asked Ginny.

Everyone’s hands went up.

“And Draco’s father,” said Luna. “You bit him, Harry.”

Ron guffawed. “And where – that was brilliant, it really was. You have to do that for real sometime.”

Harry made a face. “No, I bloody well don’t. That was disgusting enough in a dream, thank you. You want to bite him there, be my guest.”

“I don’t think I could reach there. Maybe I could dive-bomb him, though.”

“Ew!” Hermione laughed, shoving him. “That’s really disgusting!”

“I’ll help,” said Luna, smiling broadly. “One of us can aim for his hair, and the other one for his face.”

Draco came out of the bathroom, shaking water droplets off his hands. “What are you all laughing about?” he asked.

This just made everyone laugh harder.

The Pack-parents had to be watching them, Harry thought. There was no other way Letha could have turned up just as Ginny and Luna had finished in the bathroom, with clean holiday robes for everyone in her arms, and the welcome news that the Longbottoms had indeed been healed, and were eager to meet them all. “Or meet again, in your case, Greeneyes,” Letha said from outside the screened enclosure she’d conjured for the boys to dress inside. “They remember you from when you were tiny.”

Harry gave his Pack-mother a hard look as he came out of the enclosure. “Just please don’t start telling them embarrassing stories about me.”

“I promise. We won’t start.”

“They’ve already started,” Draco predicted, coming out behind him. “Probably been telling them all the time we were asleep.”

Harry groaned and looked at Letha without much hope. The small, sly smile on her face killed his hopes.

Let me guess. She started with throwing flour in the pantry, then moved on to writing my name on my face with lipstick, then she probably told them about the time we covered Padfoot in condiments – though that’s worse for him than it is for us, really...

He traded weary looks with the rest of the Pride.

Sometimes I wonder if adults were ever kids themselves.

xXxXx

Christmas dinner was marvelous. Fourteen people – the Pack and Pride, plus the Longbottoms – sat around a comfortably large round table, and devoted themselves to the dual pleasures of eating and talking. Table manners were observed rather sketchily, but no one made a fuss about it, and there was plenty of everything, though Hermione did stop Ron from taking a fourth helping of pudding.

“This isn’t a dream,” she hissed at him, glaring. He glared back, but set the spoon down in the dish without taking anything.

Honestly, is he ever going to learn?

Finally, after dinner was over, they all moved to the other room, where a splendid Christmas tree towered above a truly impressive number of packages. Two of the packages looked much the same, about five and a half feet long and slender, but thicker at one end than the other. The boys’ eyes all popped when they saw these.

“I know one’s Harry’s,” said Draco. “But who’s the other one for?”

“Are you volunteering to hand out presents?” asked Danger.

Draco rolled his eyes. “All right, fine.”

Everyone quickly found seats as Draco sat down on the floor by the tree and picked up one of the wrapped broomsticks, turning it to read the label. He squinted and frowned, turning it this way and that.

“Enough drama, fox, just pass it along,” said Padfoot, taking a seat in one of the room’s armchairs. Letha sat beside him in the matching chair, while Moony and Danger took a couch, and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom the other one.

Draco scowled. “You ruined my moment.”

“Too bad.”

“Here.” Draco pitched the broomstick across the room towards Ron, who caught it automatically, looking rather surprised.

“Who’s it for?” he asked.

“You, stupid.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“No? Then why are you still sitting there and not opening it yet?”

“Wait – it’s for me? ” Ron stared at the package in his arms as the Pride covered smiles.

“I think I said that,” said Draco with an overabundance of patience in his voice. “Read the label if you don’t believe me.”

Ron turned the parcel around. “To Ronald,” he read aloud. “A Very Happy Christmas from Mum and Dad, Mr. Padfoot and Mrs. Letha, Mr. Moony and Mrs. Danger.” He looked around at the adults in confusion.

“Go on,” said Letha, smiling at him. “You earned it.”

Ron hesitated one more instant, then grabbed the narrow end of the package and ripped. The paper came off in a long strip, and the broom rolled out onto the floor.

“Oooooh,” said everyone who appreciated brooms. Hermione said it too, just to be companionable. In truth, the broom was rather handsome, with a jauntily polished handle and tightly bunched twigs. Ron picked it up and ran his hands along it reverently.

“It’s a Cleansweep Ten,” he said, looking awed. “The latest model.”

“Best maneuverability in its class, and still plenty of speed,” said Padfoot. “That’s what a Keeper needs, is the ability to pull tight turns and get from one goal to the next. This ought to serve you well, but we’ll have to teach you how not to fly into the stands.”

Everyone laughed. Ron was still staring at the broom in his hands with awestruck eyes. “I – I thought I was just getting my old one repaired – I didn’t know why Mum wouldn’t tell me when it was going to be done...”

“Well, now you do,” said Moony. “Happy Christmas.”

Hermione shook her head fondly. Such little things make him happy...

“Harry, this one’s yours,” said Draco, passing this parcel carefully over. “I think we all know what it is...”

Harry, grinning, ripped the paper off to reveal –

Nothing. The form inside the paper had been made by strips of cardboard taped to the inside.

The girls all fell about laughing at the look of tragic disappointment on Harry’s face. “It’s not funny,” he said angrily. “Hermione, how would you like it if you were promised some new set of books, and when you got them, you found out they were just empty covers?”

Hermione shook her head again. “I wouldn’t be angry,” she said. “Because I know the Pack-parents always keep their promises. And I think I see something shiny over there.” She pointed towards the couch Moony and Danger were occupying.

Padfoot drew his wand. “Accio Firebolt! ” he intoned.

A sleek, shining broom slid out from behind the couch and zoomed towards Padfoot, stopping in front of him at mounting height. Harry’s face transformed magically from a mask of tragedy to one of joy. Hermione sighed and exchanged tolerant looks with Meghan and Luna. Ginny, of course, was as Quidditch-mad as any boy, and was the first to ask Harry for a go on the Firebolt – “after you get to ride it, of course,” she added quickly.

There were piles of other presents, of course, but the two broomsticks were the apex of the day for Harry and Ron. Ginny’s favorite present was a set of extra-fine quills and special inks – Hermione had known vaguely that one of Ginny’s favorite hobbies was calligraphy.

Luna’s father had sent her a new set of jewelry – a necklace, earrings, and tiara, all set with, as Luna informed everyone, “real fossilized fairy fewmets.” She said they would bring her luck in the new year. Boys and girls alike crowded up to see them, but Hermione stayed back. Moony caught her eye and waved her over.

“I suppose you’re not going to tell them what fewmets are,” he said quietly.

“What, and miss the fun?”

Moony smiled. “Taught you well, we have,” he said in a squeaky voice.

“Aren’t you a little tall for Yoda?” asked Hermione critically.

Meghan ripped into one of her presents and gave a shriek of joy – Aunt Amy had come through again, sending Meghan a magical CD player of her very own, along with a collection of famous ballets on CD. Harry and Draco looked jealous. Hermione made a mental note to be very nice to Meghan over the next few months.

Neville’s best gifts, of course, hadn’t come wrapped, but his smile grew even wider when Mr. Longbottom produced a black case from under one of the couches and lifted out a guitar. He was just showing Neville how to place his fingers for a simple chord when he looked up and discovered the entire Pride was watching him. He looked over at Moony. “And I thought you were making it up,” he said.

Moony shrugged. “I tried to tell you,” he said. “What one of them does, they all take at least a passing interest in. So if you’re going to teach any one of them something, better plan to expand your lessons, at least the first few. After that, the ones who aren’t really interested drift back to their own things. I suppose the novelty wears off.”

“I still think what you decided to teach all of them is a little extreme,” said Mrs. Longbottom. “But it’s not as if we’re going to tell you to stop. That would be unfair to Neville, when Augusta already said he could. Besides, if I understand correctly, he’s doing well?”

“Very well,” said Letha. “Neville, would you care to demonstrate your latest conquest?”

“Er, okay.” Neville handed the guitar back to his father and pulled out his wand. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out, then opened them. Aiming his wand at his left arm, he carefully said, “Lacerus et ulna sinistrus dimidius integumentum veneficium. ”

His left arm shrank and the fingers lengthened. It grew a great deal of silvery fur, and when Neville shut his eyes again and concentrated, the arm wavered and disappeared, giving him the look of an amputee. His parents applauded, as did the Pride – although they’d seen it before, it was still impressive.

“Neville’s spells are longer than anyone else’s, either,” Hermione volunteered. “Because his form is magical, he has to have an extra word or two in every spell to make sure that part of him has the magic that demiguises have.”

“Going to be worth it, though, isn’t it?” asked Ron. “Be able to disappear whenever you want?”

“He can disappear whenever he wants now,” said Ginny.

Neville shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. “I tried it at home with Gran. It didn’t work there. I think it only works at Hogwarts.”

“Disappearing?” inquired Mrs. Longbottom. “I don’t think we’ve heard about this.”

“Change your arm back first, Neville,” said Padfoot. “And then we’ll tell you about the nocturnal exploits your son makes possible,” he said to the Longbottoms. Mrs. Longbottom looked a bit disapproving, but Mr. Longbottom seemed interested.

“Reditio lacerus et ulna artus, ” said Neville, returning his arm to its original form. He was rather pink. “We’ve never done anything really wrong with it,” he said. “We just go out sometimes, when we don’t want other people to see us. Or when we need to help someone.”

“I’m still not clear on what ‘it’ is,” said Mrs. Longbottom.

“Watch, Mum.” Neville began to mutter to himself. Hermione concentrated. She had a feeling that if you knew, for a fact, that Neville was there, and looked really, really hard at the place you knew he was, you might be able to see through his magic.

She nearly gave herself a headache, but she managed. By the time Mrs. Longbottom exclaimed over the way Neville had vanished, Hermione could still see her friend, smiling happily within a cocoon of what looked like thickened air. She kept her eyes trained on him and tried not to blink too often.

“Hermione, what in the world are you doing?” exclaimed Danger.

Everyone looked at her. She felt her face heat to the approximate temperature of the Sun. “Er, nothing.”

“Well, ‘nothing’ appears to be making your eyes bloodshot,” said Moony. “Draco, do we have anything a little easier for Hermione’s eyes to rest on?”

“I think so.” Draco dug around in the packages. “Ah-ha, here’s one. Nice and big and blocky. Feels like... books. What a big surprise.” He handed it to her ceremoniously.

Carefully, Hermione tore the paper off, and felt her eyes go wider than ever.

Lying in her lap were seven leather-bound books, each done in a different shade of brown or red, each with a ribbon sewn into the binding to mark one’s place with. The title of the one on top was The Last Battle .

She beamed at the Pack-parents. “Thank you, thank you so much! It’s perfect!” She was peripherally aware of the boys shaking their heads, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t every day that she got a brand-new, hardcover set of C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia . She could hardly wait to see the Pevensies and Aslan and all her old friends again, this time with the smell and feel of real leather and parchment to accompany her as she journeyed.

“Magical edition, too, Kitten,” said Moony. “Look inside.”

Hermione opened The Horse and His Boy eagerly and watched in delight as Bree and Hwin trotted down the path together, the ragged Shasta and the armored Aravis on their backs. Magical editions of Muggle books could be hard to come by, because laws applied differently to books than to other things. However, if the buyer signed an affidavit that the books would not pass into Muggle hands, they could be had, at a price. Hermione knew these must have cost a pretty Galleon.

“I’ll take the best care of them,” she promised, hugging them close.

“You’d better,” said Padfoot mock-sternly. “So, we all out of presents, or are there any more under there?”

There were more. Most of them were smaller things like candy or new quills or little toy animals or broomsticks, but down at the very bottom, Draco discovered a box addressed to him, about half the size of a shoebox. “It says it’s from Cousin Tonks,” he said, looking at the card. “She says, ‘Look into this to help you study.’”

“If anyone would know about study aids, it would be Dora,” said Padfoot. “She crams like a mad thing for tests.”

Draco tore off the wrappings, opened the box, and lifted out the item within.

It was a globe of black glass, of a size to be held in two hands, slightly translucent and with something red embedded in its heart. Draco rolled it over in his hands, looking at it. “It has runes on it,” he said. “They’re engraved all over.” He held it up to the light, studying it. “They’re really complex, though, I don’t think I can make them out. Neenie?”

Growling briefly for custom’s sake, Hermione joined him near the candelabrum. “These are complex,” she said, running her finger along one of them, a mass of interjoined and connected lines. “Let me see it?”

Draco looked reluctant, but handed the globe to her. Hermione turned it in her hands. “This one looks familiar,” she said finally, “but I can’t remember what it means. I can’t read any of the others.” She handed it back to him.

Draco pulled out the cloth the globe had been wrapped in and reverently wrapped it up again before sliding it carefully back into its box. “I really like it,” he said. “I’ll have to remember to write Tonks a good thank you note.”

Harry and Ron made noises of disbelief. “Listen to you,” said Harry. “Thank you notes? What kind of wizard are you?”

“A polite one. And witches like polite wizards.”

“Who cares if witches like you?” said Ron.

The adults all covered smiles as the girls exchanged highly insulted looks. “I think you’re about to,” said Letha.

“Get him!” shouted Hermione, and dived on Ron, smacking him over the head with the first thing that came to hand, which turned out to be a large wad of discarded wrapping paper. When the fight was over and the entire Pride appeared to have been gift-wrapped, Mrs. Longbottom produced a camera and took several pictures of them before the adults would stop laughing and help them get unwound.

“Look at it this way,” said Luna. “Now we know for sure what they can embarrass us with when we grow up and get boyfriends and girlfriends.”

xXxXx

It wasn’t until late that night, snuggling into bed with Crookshanks warming her feet, that Hermione recalled what the one familiar rune on Draco’s globe meant.

It was the rune for blood.

She wondered if she should tell him, then decided not to. She might have misread it, and it probably wasn’t important anyway.

Her dreams were full of mazes, with corridors running confusingly into one another, dead ends popping up out of nowhere, and unexpected jerky transitions from one to the next when she stumbled into random spots, until suddenly Ron dived down from above on his new broom and carried her away into the sky, where she could look down and see that she’d been trapped in the unfamiliar, complicated shapes of the other runes on the glass globe...





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 14: Understanding (Year 3)


Chapter 14: Understanding

Draco let his fingers trace along the shapes of the runes carved into the glass globe as he stared into the center. He’d owned this strange object for two days now, and still he didn’t understand what was so mesmerizing about it. The liquid redness within it seemed to beckon to him, calling him to it, until his eyes and mind were filled with nothing but red, and the smoothness of the lines under his fingertips...

“Draco?”

He jumped and hastily covered the globe with its black wrapper. “In here!”

Harry opened the door and squinted in. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

Draco shrugged. “Just am, I guess. What’s up?”

“We’re going out to have a fly. Want to come?”

“Can I have a go on the Firebolt when you’re done?”

“After Ginny and Ron.”

Draco scowled, getting up to find his coat. “Sure, favor your friends over your own brother.”

“They asked first.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

xXxXx

After everyone who wanted to try out the Firebolt had done so, the group walked down to visit Hagrid. He was outside throwing snowballs for Fang to chase. Harry showed off the Firebolt’s amazing acceleration by chasing down a snowball and catching it before it could hit the ground. Hagrid was duly impressed.

“Yeh know who’d really like ter see yeh all,” he said. “Would yeh believe, Buckbeak’s gone an’ got a taste fer humans?”

“Hope you don’t mean that like it sounds,” said Ron, looking alarmed.

“No, no, nothin’ like that,” said Hagrid, chuckling. “No, he jus’ likes a bit o’ company now and again. D’yeh have a minute ter come and see him?”

“I think so,” said Harry. “We’re not due back at the castle until dinner, and that’s hours yet.”

“Come on, then.” Hagrid led them to the paddock, and sure enough, there was Buckbeak, rolling in the snow. He sprang upright at Hagrid’s whistle, though, and trotted over to the fence, peering eagerly at the little group.

“What do we do again?” whispered Ginny.

“Bow,” Draco reminded her. “Bow and hold it until he bows back.”

The four of them bowed, and after a moment, Buckbeak bent his neck to them. Ginny climbed over the paddock wall and stroked the hippogriff’s feathered face, making him croon deep in his throat. Then he gently nudged her away and fixed his eye on Draco. Draco swallowed nervously and reached out a hand. “Hello, Buckbeak,” he said politely.

Buckbeak extended his neck past Draco’s hand, towards his head – Draco held very still – and took a small piece of Draco’s hair in his beak, tugging on it before he let it go.

“He preened you,” said Ron, laughing. “I think he likes you. Luna’s going to get jealous.”

Draco bent over, picked up a handful of snow, and threw it into Ron’s face without bothering to pack it first. Ron retaliated with a handful down Draco’s back. Buckbeak fanned his wings, screeched, and cantered away in what looked very much like a hippogriff huff.

Ginny sighed and shook her head in a very motherish way. “What are we going to do with them?” she asked Harry as their brothers rolled in the snow, wrestling.

“Take bets?” Harry suggested.

“Enough o’ that, now,” said Hagrid, bending over and separating Draco and Ron easily. “Come on inside an’ have some tea, an’ tell me what’s bin goin’ on up at the castle.”

“Well, you know about the Longbottoms, right?” asked Harry as they started for Hagrid’s house.

Hagrid nodded. “Haven’t seen ‘em yet, but I’m sure I will soon enough.”

“Mrs. Letha says some of the Healers aren’t very happy about what happened to them,” said Ginny, trotting to keep up with Hagrid’s long strides. Draco and Ron were hanging back, probably hoping to have an excuse to pummel each other again. Harry looked over his shoulder, then dropped back to join in.

“Not happy?” Hagrid looked confused. “Why wouldn’ they be happy? They’re Healers, aren’t they? They want ter Heal people, make ‘em better. Why wouldn’ they be happy Frank an’ Alice are better?”

Ginny shrugged. “I think they feel like Mrs. Letha is kind of taking over where they belong. Because she quit the Healer’s program so long ago, so she’s still only a trainee, really. I guess they’re mad because a trainee did what they couldn’t do.” She grinned. “Except she didn’t, and she can’t tell them who really did.”

Hagrid chuckled, watching what appeared to be three undersized yeti beating each other up. “They’d really be up in arms over that, wouldn’ they? Little bitty girl like Meghan, not even Hogwarts age yet, an’ she kin do somethin’ all the best Healers can’t...”

xXxXx

“What do you mean, you refuse to tell me?”

“I mean, Healer Young, that this is a matter of Healer-patient confidentiality. The patients have asked me not to divulge information about their treatment, and therefore I will not.”

“You’re being deliberately obstructionist, Trainee Freeman-Black.”

“No, sir, I’m merely respecting my patients’ wishes.”

“It is the duty of every Healer to disseminate information, to facilitate the treatment of other cases like these the world over!”

“Sir, I’ve investigated. There are no other cases like these, at least not living ones.”

Healer Young deflated abruptly. “Yes, and that’s what makes this attitude of yours so very remarkable – I would have thought you’d want your name in lights for this miracle you’ve seemingly worked, and instead, you refuse even to take proper credit for it, you don’t want anything exposed about it at all – one would think you hadn’t done anything!”

Aletha set her jaw against laughter and made a gracious, non-committal gesture.

“Well, they certainly do seem recovered.” Healer Young heaved himself out of his seat. “I’m sure you’ll give them all the usual instructions, check-ups and taking care of their health and such, so here are their papers.” He handed her a sheaf of parchment.

“Thank you, sir. And if any other cases like this ever do come along, I’ll be more than happy to do what I can to help.”

“That’s very generous of you, Trainee.” Aletha could hear rather heavy sarcasm in the voice, but also a measure of true meaning. “No need to get up, I’ll see myself out.”

xXxXx

“He’s not a bad old windbag at that,” Aletha told Sirius later that day. “Pompous, but well-meaning. And he really cares about his patients, and about healing in general.”

“I suppose a certain amount of snobbery’s inevitable as you get higher in the ranks,” mused Sirius. “Looking down at the young, eager, new faces and wondering, was I ever like that?”

“And not having the courage to say, yes, I was.” Aletha smiled reminiscently. “Even though you know perfectly well that you were.”

“And oh, I was.” Sirius rubbed his forehead ruefully. “Frank and Alice are the two best cures for my ego I’ve ever met. They remember me as a wide-eyed apprentice, and then as a snot-nosed first year Auror, and all the stupid things I did – and they have no compunction whatsoever about telling these stories to anyone who will listen to them.”

“And since several of the people who listen to them happen to live in our house...”

“Exactly.”

“Personally, I thought the one about the peanut butter was very sweet.”

Sirius made a face. “You would. That’s just one of those things I really didn’t want people to know about me.”

“Of course, I know things you want people to know even less.”

“Things like what I’ve been working on for the past four or five months.”

“Yes, things like that.”

“And you’re mentioning this, why?”

“Just to keep things in perspective, love. Frank and Alice can embarrass you with stories about the boy you used to be. I can embarrass you with stories about the man you are right now.”

“Somehow I don’t think it’s my manhood you’re having issues with here.”

“And how would you know if I have issues with your manhood?”

“Well, I don’t think you’d agree with me quite so vigorously if you did.”

“Agree with you?”

“Yeah, you agree with me all the time at night. I could ask you just about anything I wanted to, and I think I know what the answer would be.”

Aletha scowled at him. “Is there some school men go to where they all learn to be disgusting?”

Sirius shook his head, beaming. “Pure instinct.”

“Well, instinctualize this.” She got up, came around the table, leaned down, and gave him a definite biological cue.

Instead of answering verbally, Sirius reached up and pulled her down into his arms.

xXxXx

Elsewhere in the castle, a different couple sat together, talking about the same basic topic, but a very different part of it.

“So that’s the truth,” said Danger, staring at the floor. “I’ll show you if you really want to see...”

“No need.” Remus slid two fingers under her chin and lifted it up, meeting her eyes, then moved in for a brief kiss. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt me some to hear this,” he said when they broke apart. “But you warned me about that. And I know it hurts you just as much to have these feelings. So neither of us can play the martyr here.”

“Neither of us should, you mean.” Danger sighed. “I was far too close to doing it myself.”

“No, you were honestly expressing your feelings. You can’t be a martyr unless you have an audience.”

“And I did my best to dissuade my audience.”

“True, most people would have left pretty quickly after having fire shot at their heads.”

“Of course, with Sirius’ thick skull, I don’t know if even a direct hit would have hurt him.”

They both laughed.

“We’re going to have to find some way to deal with this,” said Remus. “Something other than you trying to deny it, because it’s real, and a part of you. But this is probably not the best time to get into a problem this complicated.”

Danger shook her head. “Not with everything else we have going. How about the end of this school year? We’ll have the summer off. Two months to talk it to death, get other opinions if we need them, find out if anything can be done. And if it can’t, I’ll just have to get my head straightened out and accept the fact that I can’t get my own way all the time.”

“If I had my own way, you would,” Remus told her, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

Danger smiled. “I know. That’s what makes this a small problem instead of a big one.” She put an arm around his neck and made further conversation aloud momentarily impossible.

Maybe love couldn’t solve everything, but it was awfully good at helping with most things.

xXxXx

The rest of the holidays passed quickly.

Frank Longbottom and Peeves had an encounter shortly before New Year’s, in which Peeves definitely came off worst. The entire Pride howled with laughter as Frank demonstrated the Peeves-in-a-box he’d made. It played “Pop Goes the Poltergeist” when you wound the crank, and the lid sprang open to display a very sullen Peeves, in his jester’s cap and bowtie, bobbing up and down at the end of a magical spring.

The next day, Frank and Alice took Neville to Diagon Alley to go shopping for all sorts of things, most especially a new wand for Neville, since he’d been using Frank’s.

“Mr. Ollivander looked kind of funny when it was this one,” said Neville to the Pride, showing around eleven inches of cherry wood with a unicorn tail hair inside. “Said something about it being early days. I didn’t quite understand.”

“I don’t think anyone understands him,” said Harry. “He’s a bit creepy.”

Neville had his own guitar as well now, and was spending an hour every day working on his chords and fingering. Meghan made up a salve to help his fingers develop calluses more quickly.

But the largest item the Longbottoms were interested in buying wasn’t sold at Diagon Alley. Not directly, at least.

xXxXx

“We’re not trying to snub you, Mum,” said Frank patiently, having been over this ground at least three times already. “But you have your own life now, your own friends, your own routine. It would be rude of us to barge in and take it away from you.”

“We’re not trying to stay away from you,” Alice added. “Trust me, we’ll be over all the time. You’ll get tired of us and be glad you have somewhere to tell us to go.”

Finally, Augusta Longbottom lost her rather dour expression and smiled. “I don’t think I could ever get tired of hearing your voice again, Alice dear,” she said. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is... well, of course, I have told you, many times. You’re sure about this?”

“Positive, Mum,” said Frank. “It’ll be easier for everyone this way. Trust us.”

“Very well, then.” Augusta embraced her son and daughter-in-law. “You’ll let me know as soon as you’ve found something?”

“The very minute we make a decision, we’ll owl,” Alice promised.

After Augusta was gone, the Longbottoms looked at each other and sighed in relief.

“That went better than I thought it would,” Frank said, sitting down and patting the spot beside him.

“It took a while, but she came around,” Alice agreed, sitting where he indicated and leaning into him. “So what do we do next?”

“Next, we look for possibilities. We can ask the Blacks, or the Lupins, they should both be aware of what’s going on in that neighborhood.”

“Do you think we should tell Neville?”

“Not until we have a firm idea of what’s going on. Term starts again in about a week, and he’ll be here for three months, so it won’t matter much to him, anyway.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alice sat up, looking indignant. “It won’t matter much to him? It will matter a great deal! A boy deserves to know where he’s going to call home, even if nothing’s been settled yet!”

“All right, all right.” Frank raised his hands in surrender. “We’ll tell him. We’ll tell him.”

Alice settled back down with an air of having been just barely mollified. “Won’t matter much to him, indeed,” she grumbled.

“Your maternal side is showing, dear.”

“Do you have a problem with that, Frank?”

“No, not at all. I just felt you ought to know about it.”

“Is there anything else you feel I ought to know about?”

“I adore you and love you utterly?”

“I knew that already.”

“So you don’t want me to tell you again?”

“Well, if you put it that way...”

xXxXx

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his desk chair and sighed. “I should have known,” he said quietly. “It was too easy. He was too cooperative. I should have known.”

Fawkes made a brief series of sounds in a scolding tone. Perhaps you should have, he seemed to say, but berating yourself does no good.

Dumbledore smiled at his friend. “It is true, no harm is done by this,” he agreed. “And I have begun upon this project now, rather than later, so that setbacks like this one can be corrected without any great losses.”

So, now I must think. How to go about obtaining what I truly want, without resorting to underhanded tricks or brute force?

The task would not be easy. But he had never really enjoyed easy tasks. The hard ones were what made life interesting.

xXxXx

The Pride, minus Hermione and Neville, sat in the Gryffindor common room, boys at one table, girls at another. The rest of the students would be back in two days, so they were taking advantage of this, their last quiet time, to get some homework done.

Harry wished Hermione was there, as his Arithmancy text seemed to be making less sense, not more, as he read through it. He almost wished he’d taken Divination instead – at least then, if he didn’t understand the assignment, he could make something up and get away with it.

“No, you don’t,” said Ron when he voiced this wish aloud. “Trust me. Trelawney spends every lesson sighing over you as it is. If you were in the class, she’d never leave you alone. She thinks you’re going to die. You, too,” he said to Draco, who was poring over a chart in his Ancient Runes textbook.

Draco grunted absently and went back to his work. Harry frowned. Even upside down and from across the table, the runes didn’t look like the ones Draco’d shown him earlier in the year. “Have you moved on in Ancient Runes?” he asked curiously.

“What? Oh – no, not really. I was just wondering if I could find out what the ones on my globe mean. They’re really high-level, though, complicated and all, and the more complex they get, the more meanings they have. So they could mean loads of different things...” He sighed, flipping more towards the front of the book. “Never mind. I’ll find out when I find out, and I’ve got homework.”

The portrait hole opened. “Hullo, Neville,” said Ron, looking up.

“Hi.” Neville looked breathless and happy, Harry noticed.

“What’s going on?” asked Ginny, shutting her own textbook over at the girls’ table. “You look like something really good just happened.”

“It did.” Neville looked at the two groups, a grin breaking out on his face. “Dad just told me he and Mum are looking into buying a house. When I was a baby, they lived where Gran and I live now, but they don’t want her to feel like she has to leave, so they’re getting a different house.”

“That’s nice,” said Draco, looking a bit puzzled. “Do you not like your old house, then?”

Neville shook his head, his grin widening. “It’s where it is. The new house. It’s in Devon. Only about a mile from your village. We’re going to be neighbors!”

Cheers and glad whoops erupted from the tables.

xXxXx

Hermione sat alone in an empty classroom, staring out the window.

Behind her, the door creaked. She didn’t look around.

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Danger’s voice. “May I come in?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to be alone.”

“What time is it?”

Automatically, Hermione checked her watch. “3:39.”

“All right. I’m coming in, and I’m staying until 3:45. That’s only six minutes. Then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day, if that’s what you want. All right?”

“Fine.” Hermione threw as much sullenness into the word as she could. She didn’t care what Danger thought of her right now.

The door closed. A chair grated on the stone floor as Danger sat down. “What’s wrong, Neenie love?”

“Nothing.” Hermione bit the word off savagely. “And don’t call me that.”

“What? Neenie, or love?”

“Either. Both. I’m sick of everyone thinking they can just do what they want! I’m sick of everyone ignoring me, and thinking life is just grand the way they like it! I hate stupid people, and I hate people who don’t understand!”

“Don’t understand what?”

“Everything!”

“Any stupid people in particular?”

“No. ”

“Yes.”

“Yes, but I’m not telling.”

“I wasn’t asking. Boys?”

Hermione snorted. “Yes. And no.”

“Let me see. Yes and no. Not boys – a boy? One in particular?”

Hermione didn’t answer. Danger was too close.

“Yes. So which boy has been getting on your nerves? Not the one you keep nagging at, by any chance?”

Hermione’s hands tightened into fists. I hate her, I hate her, I hate when she does this – it’s like she can read my mind –

“The only reason I know is because I used to be just like this...”

“I don’t care! ” Hermione shouted the word towards the ceiling. “You weren’t like this – nobody was – you don’t understand! ”

“Oh, I see. Nobody else has ever been a teenager, or in love...”

“I am not in love!”

“Oh?”

“Love is stupid! It makes you do stupid things! I’m not in love, and I never will be!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Sure that you’re not even a tiny, itty-bitty, little bit–”

“YES!”

The shout echoed around the classroom for a moment. Then there was silence. It grew and thickened, pressing on Hermione, until she opened her mouth and let a small sound out, just to make it go away.

“No,” said the small sound.

Danger sighed. Hermione heard the scraping of her chair again, and footsteps as her sister crossed the room to stand beside her. “Love is seldom comfortable at first,” she said. “Especially if you don’t know if the other person returns it, or if he even knows you exist.”

“He knows I exist. He just doesn’t care.”

“You’re young yet. Give it time.”

“I don’t want to!”

“I know. But I think you have to.”

Hermione growled in frustration and pounded her fist against the stone windowsill. “He’s so stupid! And disgusting – I hate him sometimes. But it doesn’t change how I feel about him! I just wish...”

“You just wish he didn’t have all these annoying habits. That he was different. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t.” Surprised by Danger’s tone, Hermione looked up. For once, there was no humor in her sister’s face. “Don’t ever wish for someone you love to be different. If you do – if you say, ‘Oh, I’ll love him when he stops doing such and so that bothers me’ – then you don’t love a real person. You love somebody you’ve made up. That can be very nice, but it’s not what life is about.”

“What life is about?” Hermione frowned. “I thought nobody knew that.”

“No, we know. We just don’t want to admit it, because the answer’s so hard to take. Life is about other people, Hermione. About meeting them, and really getting to know them, and then liking them in spite of themselves, and in spite of yourself. A really good life is based around friendship and love, or around doing things so other people can have friendship and love. Everything else is either commentary or working for the other side.” Danger shook her head, smiling. “And aren’t I philosophical today. I should write an inspirational book and make a million Galleons.”

“Maybe you and Padfoot can write one together,” Hermione suggested, feeling her bad mood beginning to depart. “And then it would be worth two million.”

Danger laughed. “Maybe. Feeling better?”

“Yes. Some.”

“Good. Will you please go a little easier on that boy, then? He’ll survive the occasional stomachache, and just maybe it’ll bring him to see that you’re trying to help him, not drive him up a wall.”

“Yes, Danger.”

“Now go do something silly and have some fun.”

“Yes, Danger.”

“And wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you.”

“Yes, Danger.” Hermione planted a very serious expression on her face and strutted out the door, nose in the air.

She was going to find the other girls. And they were going to prank the boys to within an inch of their lives.

xXxXx

Danger sat down on the windowsill. What have we done?

Are you asking in the strict sense, or metaphorically?

Actually, I was asking rhetorically.

Then you shouldn’t have asked at all.

Probably not. But I’m still amazed.

About what?

I’m not even sure. I suppose I never expected Hermione to turn out the way she has.

You mean moody?

Well, yes.

I think that’s a passing thing. Hormones and such.

Possibly. But I just never expected her to be so...

Human?

No... well, yes. Danger sighed. I guess I was secretly expecting her to be a good little angel who never gets angry or upset about anything. But I shouldn’t be. She’s a person. She’s as entitled to her own feelings as anyone.

I’m so glad you agree.

What – are you laughing at me?

Now would I do a thing like that?

Yes.

You’re right. I am.

Fine. You just stay right where you are, Remus Lupin, and I’ll come and find you and teach you why it’s a very bad idea to laugh at a Granger woman.

I’m so scared.

I’m bringing my dishtowel with me.

All right, now I am scared. Give me a head start?

I am, right now. Get running, I’ll find you.

Is that a threat or a promise?

Yes.

Oh, goody...

xXxXx

Hermione was lying on her bed reading when the door of her dorm opened. She looked up. “Colleen! Welcome back!”

“Thanks,” said Colleen Lamb. “How was your holiday?”

“It was fine, how was yours?”

“All right. But something strange happened to me. I got a present I wasn’t expecting, and I don’t know what to think about it. Can I show it to you?”

Hermione nodded, sliding off her bed to come to Colleen’s side. Colleen pulled back her sleeve to display a bracelet she was wearing.

“Oh,” breathed Hermione, her hand moving without her conscious decision to stroke the carved stone. “It’s lovely!”

“I know. But it’s strange, too. Look at it.” Colleen slipped the bracelet off and handed it to Hermione.

“It’s – it’s a snake,” said Hermione in confusion, turning it over in her hands. “No, it’s two snakes, look – this one’s a lighter green than that one. And they’re biting each other’s tails...” She frowned. “That’s a symbol of something. Stability, I think. Or balance, like a yin-yang. This is really beautiful, Colleen. Who sent it to you?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“The card that came with it just said, ‘From a friend.’”

Hermione shook her head. “That is strange. But as long as there’s nothing wrong with it...”

“My parents checked it. There’s no curses on it, or anything like that. Who would want to hurt me, anyway?”

“Good question. So I guess it’s just someone trying to be mysterious.”

“I guess so.” Colleen replaced the bracelet on her wrist. “Has there been a lot of snow here?”

xXxXx

“Harry!”

Harry looked up from the final sentences of a Potions essay. “Hello, Wood.”

“Just got in,” said Wood, shaking snow off his cloak. “How was your holiday?”

“Fine, thanks.” Harry chose to omit the part about all the furniture in the boys’ dorm suddenly starting to sing Christmas carols loudly and off key two nights ago at midnight. “Yours?”

“Great, just great – Harry, listen. I don’t want to be pushy, but have you found any way to keep the dementors off your back? I mean, you’re the best Seeker I’ve ever seen, I really don’t want to replace you, but if you’re going to.. well...”

“I think I should be all right,” said Harry, crossing his fingers under the table. “Professor Lupin’s going to start teaching me how to repel them as soon as he has time. Our first lesson is this week.” It wasn’t, but Harry was sure it would be as soon as he reminded Moony about his promise.

“Well, that’s good.” Wood looked very relieved. “Now, about your broomstick – have you ordered one yet?”

Harry shook his head.

Wood looked puzzled. “Why not?”

Harry gave in to his impulse to tease his captain. “Do you have a second?”

“Of course, why?”

“Come up to my dorm,” said Harry, putting his book aside. “I’ve got something to show you.”

xXxXx

About a minute after Harry and Wood had disappeared up the stairs, there was a loud shout from the direction of the third year boys’ dormitory, followed by a great deal of jubilant whooping.

Ron coughed into his hand, making a sound very like “Show-off.”

“Give him a break,” said Draco. “He doesn’t do it often.”

xXxXx

“Oh, that’s right, I did say I’d teach you that.” Moony looked momentarily flummoxed, then shook it off. “I’ll find the time. How about eight o’clock Thursday evening, or is Wood taking all your time with Quidditch practice yet?”

“I’ll be there,” said Harry. “Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just your wand, and yourself. The History of Magic classroom, I think, you’ll need some room to do this.” Moony frowned. “But how we’re going to get good test conditions is another thing. We can’t exactly bring a dementor into the castle.”

“Can’t I learn it without one?” asked Harry, a little dismayed to hear that dementors would be part of the learning, though he shouldn’t have been, he told himself. If it was an anti-dementor charm, then the only way to see if it was effective was to test it against a dementor.

“You can learn it, of course, but you can’t see if it will really work. And a false sense of security won’t help you any. I wonder...” Moony drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment. “Harry, I know you don’t like dementors. Would you say they scare you?”

“Yes.”

“Quite a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think I may have an answer. I assumed you couldn’t face the boggart in class because it would turn into Voldemort – but do you think it might have turned into a dementor instead?”

Struck, Harry thought about this. “It might,” he said. “Both times I faced Voldemort that I can remember, I had something I had to do, or someone I had to protect. I didn’t have a lot of time to be scared. But when I was near the dementors, I didn’t know what to do, or if I even could do anything. I hated it. I think I even hated it worse than facing Voldemort.”

“That settles it.” Moony nodded firmly. “I’ll find a boggart. A boggart-dementor ought to have the same effect that a real one would, but I’ll be able to face it down if it gets out of hand. History of Magic classroom, eight o’clock Thursday.”

“I’ll be there.” Harry got up to leave, then thought of a question he’d wanted to ask. “Moony?”

“Yes?”

“What’s your boggart?”

“Harry, I thought I heard voices,” said Danger, coming through the door of the private quarters into the office. “How long have you been here?”

Moony looked at her, then at Harry, and gave him a slight nod.

“Er, I was just leaving,” said Harry, feeling incredibly stupid.

“Oh, well, sure, run away on my account,” said Danger, sounding confused. “Did I say something?”

“No.” On impulse, Harry went over and gave her a hug. “I just have to get back to the Tower before curfew.”

“If Filch makes trouble for you, send him to us,” Danger called after him.

“I will. Good night.” Harry made tracks up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. He couldn’t believe how idiotic he’d been.

I should have known that. Nothing could possibly scare Moony more than seeing Danger hurt. He even hates it when she’s sick. I guess, because they’re connected like they are, he can feel it too, so it actually hurts him when she’s hurt...

“Password?” asked the Fat Lady.

“Ear defenders,” said Harry, and climbed through into a noisy common room.

xXxXx

As Hagrid had promised, he had salamanders for them to study in the new term, and the Care of Magical Creatures class took turns collecting dry wood from the edges of the Forest and looking at the fire-dwelling lizards. Danger was there as well, because, as Hagrid told the class with a straight face, “she does a better fire-protection charm than I do.” Harry, Hermione, and Draco took their turns stroking the salamander Danger held out to them without cracking a smile, though it was a near thing in Hermione’s case.

Snape seemed just a trifle less hostile than usual in the term’s first Potions class, making it all the way through the lesson without deducting more than five points from Gryffindor. Harry was puzzled by this, but let it slide. It wasn’t as if he was eager for Snape to return to form, after all.

Neville got some interesting results with his new wand in Charms and Transfiguration, but Professor Flitwick was able to get the warts off Seamus, and Professor McGonagall turned the wall back into stone from strawberry ice cream, as Ron complained, “before I could even get a decent taste.”

And on Thursday, at eight o’clock, Harry arrived at the History of Magic classroom, wand in hand and heart in throat, making it hard to breathe or swallow. Moony was already there, with a large packing case. “One boggart,” he said. “I found it in Filch’s filing cabinet. He was quite happy to be rid of it.”

“I’m sure.” Harry coughed into his hand, praying Moony hadn’t noticed how close his voice had just come to cracking.

“It’s all right to be frightened, Harry,” Moony said quietly. “That’s what this is about, is moving past fear. You have to acknowledge it’s there before you can move on.”

There are days I wish they weren’t so bloody understanding. Harry nodded.

“All right. This is the incantation. Expecto patronum. ”

“Expecto patronum, ” Harry repeated.

“Good. But just the incantation doesn’t do anything. You have to be thinking very hard about a happy memory, a time and place and moment when you were extremely happy. That memory conjures the Patronus, the protector. It’s made of all the things dementors take from us – hope and happiness and the like – so it makes a target of itself, drawing the dementors away from you. Understand?”

“I think so. I have to pick out a happy memory and think about it hard, and then say the incantation, and that makes the Patronus?”

“Basically. There’s a lot more to it, but you’re not much for magical theory.”

Harry shook his head emphatically. “No.”

“Let’s get to it, then. Think of a good memory, one of the best moments of your life.”

Harry scowled. “I hate it when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“Put me on the spot like this. Now I can’t think of anything.”

“Nothing at all?” Moony’s tone was teasing.

“Stop it.” Harry closed his eyes and thought back. His life had been happy enough – surely he shouldn’t have trouble finding a really good memory to use?

Flying the Firebolt for the first time, he decided. That should work.

“Got one,” he said, opening his eyes.

“All right. Let’s have a dry run first. Think about your memory, and say the incantation.”

Harry shut his eyes again and concentrated hard on the feeling of absolute freedom the Firebolt gave him. The ability to go as fast as he wanted, spin and roll and dive, shoot back and forth through obstacles without a halt...

“Expecto patronum, ” he said quietly, still on the Firebolt in his mind. “Expecto patronum... expecto patronum... ”

A quiet exclamation from Moony made him open his eyes. A wavering silver shape hung in the air, but dissipated before Harry could see what it was. “Did you see...” he began to ask.

Moony shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. Maybe next time. Now that you know you can, shall we give it a try with our friend here?” He tapped the packing case.

Harry wanted to say no, but remembering the Firebolt, and that if he didn’t get his dementor problem under control he might not be able to play in the next match, he nodded.

“Get ready, then.” Moony flipped open the latches of the packing case.

Harry tried to think about his Firebolt, but another set of thoughts was creeping in. What had he heard, that night on the train? And that day at the Quidditch match? What was the worst memory of his life, the moment the dementors made him relive? Or was it just one moment? Draco had said he’d heard different things. Did there necessarily have to be just one worst moment of a person’s life?

Moony lifted the lid of the packing case. A hooded, black figure rose from within, shrouded face pointed towards Harry. The classroom was suddenly much darker as the lamps all went out. Harry felt a momentary surge of panic – should a boggart-dementor have that effect? – but he forced it down and thought about his broom. “Expecto patronum! ”

Nothing happened. He was starting to shake from the cold, the dementor was gliding toward him, one decayed hand outstretched...

“Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!”

Still nothing, and now darkness was creeping over his vision, and he was beginning to hear voices, two voices, one shrill and despairing, and the other cold and unfeeling...

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry...”

“Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now...”

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead...”

A cruel laugh, and a woman screaming, screaming, and Harry felt himself begin to fall...

“Harry!”

He jerked awake. He was lying on the floor of the classroom, the lamps once more alight, the packing case closed. Moony was leaning over him, looking concerned. “Are you all right?”

“It was my mum,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I know what I heard.” Harry tried to push himself up, but his wrists were still wobbly. Moony slid an arm under his shoulders and helped him sit up. “I know what I hear when they get too close. It’s my mum – and him – Voldemort...”

To his horror, a tear leaked out of his eye and started making its way down his cheek. Moony handed him a Chocolate Frog and a tissue. “Eat this,” he said. “Not the tissue, that’s not good for you... though you did go through a stage as a baby where you thought paper was delicious, all your old books have teethmarks at the corners...”

Harry managed a shaky laugh, and took a bite of the Frog while wiping his cheeks as best he could with his left hand. “I want to try again,” he said as soon as he’d swallowed. “I know I can do it, I just have to try harder.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

Harry nodded, taking another bite of Frog.

“You might want to try another memory. Something happier. If I may ask, what were you using?”

“Riding my Firebolt.”

“Not bad – especially considering how I know you feel about flying – but, it seems, not good enough. Can you think of anything else?”

Harry considered for a moment or two. “I think so.”

“And you’re sure you want to go on?”

“I’m not a quitter,” said Harry indignantly, stuffing the rest of the Frog into his mouth.

“I didn’t say you were – there’s no shame in refusing to fight an opponent who has you outmatched, Harry...”

Harry snorted. “No raggedy-arsed dementor has me outmatched.”

Moony’s eyebrows flew up. “I won’t insult your intelligence by asking you where you learned that phrase,” he said. “But I will ask you not to use it in front of either Danger or Letha, unless you want to see your godfather hung out to dry on a broomstick.”

“Now that could be a memory I could use...” Harry said thoughtfully.

Moony groaned. “I knew it was a mistake to raise Marauders,” he said to the ceiling. He paused, as he often did when Danger was making a comment, then shook his head. “Never mind. Are you ready?”

Harry scrambled to his feet, bringing up the memory of the end of last year, of seeing Padfoot and Hermione awake again, of making friends with Sangre and defeating Tom Riddle’s diary with her help and Ginny’s... “Ready.”

Moony pulled the lid open. The boggart-dementor rose from within, its breath rattling in its throat – the room went dark and icy cold again –

“Expecto patronum! ” Harry yelled. “Expecto patronum! Expecto– ”

Darkness crept across his eyes, then a white fog, with huge, blurry shapes moving all around him – and a voice, a new one, a man’s this time –

“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off–”

A sudden lurch, and the darkness was back, with two voices screaming in it, a child and a woman –

“Dayger , Dayger!”

“Shut up, you miserable brat, shut up! She’s not coming back, now be quiet! No one here has time for you–”

“Harry, wake up...”

Harry’s eyes shot open. He was shaking all over. “I heard my dad,” he whispered. “And – something else...”

“Something else?” Moony asked quietly, handing him another Chocolate Frog.

“I think... I think it was me.” Harry stared at the Frog before tearing the wrapper off. “Moony, is Danger busy?”

“Not terribly. Why?”

“Can she come down for a second?”

“Of course.”

Harry stiffened in shock. Danger’s voice had just come out of Moony’s mouth.

Moony was controlling himself well, but Harry could tell he wanted to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t nice of her at all. She’s on her way.”

Harry muttered another phrase he’d learned from Padfoot and crammed half the Chocolate Frog into his mouth.

About a minute later, someone knocked at the door, and Moony opened it with his wand to admit Danger. She crossed the room and sat down beside Harry, hugging him without waiting to be asked. Harry hugged her back, hard and without shame. No one was here to see him.

The voice rang in his head again. “No one here has time for you...”

“I think I heard my aunt,” he said very quietly, as Moony moved to sit behind him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “When she shut me up in the cupboard, before you came to get me from her house, when I was a baby. I think I heard what she said to me, and what I said.” He pulled away a little to look at Danger. “I wanted you.”

Danger smiled a little at him. “I suppose I should be obscurely flattered that I figure in your worst memory,” she said. “Though I think it’s an honor I’d be happier to refuse. Just remember, Harry, the dementors are telling you the beginning of the story, but you know the ending. Bad things have happened in your life, but so have good ones.”

“What were you using that time?” Moony asked. “Which memory?”

“Last year, after everything came out all right.”

“Better, but still not enough. You need something life-changing, something as good as your worst memory is bad.”

Harry looked at the floor. “Is there anything like that?” he asked quietly.

“There must be,” said Danger with quiet confidence. “Or if there isn’t, we’ll have to get to work right away on making sure there is.”

Harry bit the rest of his Frog in half and put both halves in his mouth at once, feeling his confidence rise again.

Of course I have good enough memories. My whole life has been good. And it’s because of Moony and Danger that it’s that way – and because of Padfoot and Letha, and Neenie and Meghan and Draco – and Ron and Ginny, and Luna and Neville –

I have a million good memories. I just need to pick the best one.

And suddenly he knew which one it would be.

“Ready for another go,” he said, standing up.

“You’re sure?” Moony looked doubtful.

Harry nodded. “I’ll just get nervous if I wait.”

Danger kissed him on the head. “Good luck, Greeneyes. Pardon me.” She transformed into the wolf and loped over to the back wall, where she sat down to watch. Moony muttered something which Harry pretended not to hear, but which sounded a lot like “Sirius will kill me for this,” then went over to the packing case.

“Wand ready?”

Harry lifted it.

“Memory ready?”

He nodded.

Moony hoisted up the lid of the case. The black figure loomed out of it, the lamps died –

Harry summoned the memory of the day of Padfoot’s trial, the moment Dumbledore had told the Pack-parents they were free to go, that their years-long charade was over. “EXPECTO PATRONUM! ” he shouted. “EXPECTO PATRONUM! ”

The dementor’s approach to him slowed, then stopped – Harry concentrated harder on the joy of that moment, on seeing Padfoot’s face as he leapt out of the chained chair to run to the cubs and pull them all into a hug – he could hear the screaming in his head, but he was trying to ignore it, and funnily enough, the more he ignored it, the quieter it got –

“EXPECTO PATRONUM! ”

His legs were starting to shake, his breath to come quicker, but he was still upright – and then, without warning, a cloud of silver mist billowed from his wand and hung in the air between him and the dementor –

“Riddikulus ! ” shouted Moony, interposing himself between Harry and the boggart, which fell to the floor in two pieces – Harry winced as he saw it was Danger, her body and her head lying nearly a foot apart –

“Oh, that’s an easy one,” said a scornful voice from behind him. Danger had returned to human form, and was standing with her hands on her hips. “Show him, Remus.”

“Riddikulus , ” Moony repeated, and Danger’s severed head began to sing.

“I ain’t got nobo-o-o-dy... ”

Harry fell into a chair, laughing, as the boggart turned into a sort of mist and vanished into the packing case, which slammed shut behind it. “That’s disgusting,” he said, still laughing.

“Don’t criticize what works,” said Danger as Moony handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes’ chocolate with walnuts, his favorite kind. “Got any peanut butter in there?”

Moony made a face. “I wanted that one.”

“Can we share?”

“If you insist.” Moony took out the peanut butter bar, snapped a tiny corner off, and handed it to Danger. “The rest is for me.”

“Just remember, I know where you live.”

“You live where I live.”

“Oh. Right.”

Moony shook his head as he broke the peanut butter bar in half. “Do you understand her?” he asked Harry.

“Not my job,” said Harry with his mouth full.

Danger grinned. “Truer words were never spoken.”

xXxXx

In the dorm, Draco sat on his bed, reading his Charms text.

His right hand stroked the runes on the glass globe set on the nightstand.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 15: Look at It This Way (Year 3)


Chapter 15: Look at It This Way

“I’m almost sorry Slytherin won that match against Ravenclaw,” said Draco, rubbing his hands together to try and warm them up. “Wood’s gone mad for practice.”

“More mad,” corrected Ron, leaning against the wall. “He was always mad.”

“So true,” said Fred, pushing the big oak door closed. “But you’re right, Ron – he’s never been quite this bad before.”

“Everything’s never been riding on one match like it is on ours against Ravenclaw,” Ginny pointed out. “If we lose, we’re out of the running for the Cup, and this year is Wood’s last chance.”

“You don’t have to tell us, Gin,” said George, massaging his shoulder where Fred had hit it by accident with his bat. “He tells us himself often enough.”

“Lay off her,” said Harry, leading the way across the entrance hall. “You were asking why Wood’s having us practice five times a week, and she told you.”

“I didn’t ask,” said Fred. “I was just saying.”

“You as good as asked,” said Ron.

Fred looked oddly at his brother. “Why would I ask a question I already know the answer to?”

“How should I know how your mind works? Assuming you even have one?”

“Oh, and who was it asking me for help with his Charms homework the other day?”

“Shut up,” said Draco wearily. “Harry, any chance you know a secret passage that could get us to the common room sooner?”

“Not off the top of my head. Wish we had the Map.”

“Well, we don’t, and wishing won’t make it come,” said Ginny testily. “So why don’t we just keep moving and get there as soon as we can the normal way?”

Harry looked at Ron. “Is she always like this when she’s cold and tired?” he asked.

“Thought you would have figured that out by now, Harry,” said George as Ron and Fred both nodded. “We’ve been having practices like this for what, three weeks now?”

“But Harry’s always rushing off to get somewhere else right afterwards,” said Draco. “I think this is the first time he’s come in with us since term started again.”

“Yeah, Harry, where are you all the time these days?” asked Fred. “You’re never in the common room anymore.”

“During all our free time, right?” said Harry sarcastically. “I’m having private lessons with Professor Lupin, and I’m not good for much after they’re over, so I have to get right inside after Quidditch to do my homework.”

George looked intrigued. “Private lessons? What about?”

“He said it was private,” said Ginny, elbowing her brother. “That means it’s none of your business.”

“Everything is our business, O small sister,” said Fred loftily. “If it isn’t our business, we make it our business. And it strikes me that some of those times Harry’s not around, neither are you. Or Ron, or Draco, or any of your little gang.”

“It’s called a Pride,” said Ron. “And we can do what we want.”

“Of course you can, little brother,” said George patronizingly, reaching up and patting Ron on the head. “Of course you can.”

Harry sighed. The truth was that with Quidditch practice, homework, and Patronus lessons, he hadn’t had time to do any real work on his Animagus spells since term had started again. It was all the more frustrating because everyone else was progressing so well. Predictably, Hermione was doing the best; it was even possible that she’d have finished the partial transformations within another month or so.

Then all she has to do is take the potion and write her final incantation, and she’ll be an Animagus...

“Earth to Harry,” said Draco, waving a hand in front of his eyes. “Come in, Harry.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Good question,” said Ron. “You asleep on your feet or what?”

“Almost,” said Harry, stifling a yawn. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Quick, someone owl the Daily Prophet, ” said Ginny. Harry glared at her, but another yawn made him squint and ruined the effect.

“Hold still, Harry,” said George. “We’ll give you a ride.”

“Wha–” He never finished the word. Quicker than his eyes could follow, the twins had their wands out, and he was suspended in midair between them.

“No tricks,” Fred assured him. “Just a nice easy trip to Gryffindor Tower.”

“You can even take a nap up there if you like,” suggested George as they set off.

Harry considered hexing the twins, but that would probably mean they’d drop him. Besides, a nap was sounding better and better. He closed his eyes and let the rocking motion created by the twins’ steps soothe him, and sleep came surprisingly quickly.

xXxXx

Most of Gryffindor House was highly amused when the portrait hole opened and Fred and George Weasley levitated in a sleeping Harry Potter, one arm dangling and his mouth slightly open.

“He’s wearing himself out,” said Hermione as Fred carefully lowered Harry into an armchair.

“How so?” asked George, leaning over the back of the sofa.

“We all of us have a lot going on, with classes and Combat Club, and our... other project,” said Hermione, taking Harry’s glasses off and setting them on the table in front of him. “And you all have Quidditch as well. But Harry also has those lessons with Moony – Professor Lupin, I mean. That’s five big, important things. I think he’s working too hard.”

“Someone write this down,” said Ron. “Hermione Granger-Lupin thinks somebody else is working too hard.”

“She has a point, though,” said Ginny, dropping into a chair herself. “Harry does have a lot going on.”

“So tell him that,” said Luna, turning a page in her Transfiguration book. “He’s not stupid. He’ll see he has to decide what’s really important.”

“That’s not the problem,” said Draco. “The problem is, he might decide the wrong things.”

“Then he has some trouble.” Luna scratched her cheek with her quill, leaving a line of ink behind, then scribbled something on her parchment. “Everybody has to have trouble.”

“She’s right,” said Neville. “We’re not Harry’s babysitters. He can take care of himself. We should just point out to him that he’s doing an awful lot of things all at once, and let him decide what to do himself.”

xXxXx

“I can handle it,” said Harry firmly, bringing his foot onto his bed to tie his shoe. “I have been handling it. And I’m fine.”

“You’re not sleeping,” said Draco, sitting cross-legged on his bed, one hand on his globe. “That’s not a good definition of ‘fine.’”

“You don’t enjoy Quidditch like you used to,” added Ron. “You used to look happy every time we went down to the pitch. Now you look like you’re going to detention.”

“Well, what do you think I should do, if you’re so smart?” Harry challenged, pulling up his other foot.

Ron and Draco had a silent but vehement conversation. Ron surrendered first. “You’ve got to give something up,” he said unhappily. “You can’t keep doing all this.”

“Give something up? Like what? Classes?”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Draco.

“No, that’s your department,” Harry shot back, standing up. “I told you, I’m fine. And I’m not giving anything up. Not unless someone makes me.”

xXxXx

“Sit it out?” Harry jumped to his feet, staring angrily at Percy. “What do you mean, sit it out?”

“Harry, you haven’t been to practice since term started.”

“I’ve been busy with Quidditch!”

“Well, then, Quidditch is obviously more important to you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you’re a fine player – nonetheless, I can’t let you take part in the match tomorrow if you haven’t the slightest idea what we’ll be doing.”

“I can find out!”

“How, if you don’t have the time to come to practice?”

Harry stared at Percy, feeling baffled anger mount in his chest – he wanted to shout and storm, but making a scene wouldn’t get him anywhere, and something inside him was telling him Percy was actually in the right...

“Fine,” he said finally, turning on his heel to head back to the Pride, who were sitting on the other side of the common room.

“No luck?” asked Draco as Harry threw himself into an armchair.

“No luck,” Harry confirmed. “How did he get to be Combat Club Captain for Gryffindor, anyway?”

“Don’t know,” said Ron. “He was doing things like keeping track of who came to practice and who was good at what from the beginning. I think now people are just noticing it.”

“Percy’s very good at organizing things,” said Hermione. “He’s got an orderly mind, and he likes things around him to be orderly too.”

“Just having an orderly mind doesn’t necessarily make him a good leader, though,” said Draco. “I hope we don’t regret putting him in charge.”

“Draco, it’s a game,” said Ron, dipping his quill into the inkpot. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

xXxXx

“You’re not allowed to ask ‘What’s the worst that could happen’ anymore,” Meghan muttered to Ron.

They sat back to back in a corridor deep in Slytherpuff territory, with a Hufflepuff fourth year guarding them. The Slytherpuff team was dominating the match so far, having taken more than half of the necessary territory of the castle to win. Percy and Penelope Clearwater, the joint heads of the Gryffinclaw team, had sent out several small scouting squads to check the Slytherpuffs’ defenses.

This, in itself, wouldn’t have been so bad. The trouble was that Percy had insisted on telling each squad precisely where to go, and how long to take doing it. Ron had tried to object to the route his squad of three had been assigned, but Percy wouldn’t listen to him.

“I think I know a little more about it than you do, Ronald,” he’d said officiously. “And Gills here won’t let anything happen to you.” Gills, a Ravenclaw sixth year, had given Ron a very confident smile and led them out.

Ron wondered how confident Gills’ smile was now. They’d been jumped at the exact point he’d suspected they would be, and although he and Meghan had each accounted for one or two of their attackers, there had been too many for them to escape. To Gills’ credit, he had been “killed” trying to defend them, and that had given Meghan time to activate her locator, telling the main force that there were enemies along their scouting run.

But they had still been captured, and Ron had been “wounded” in the arm. He’d been allowed to bandage it, stopping the damage from spreading, but it would still count as points for the Slytherpuffs, as would their capture.

Unless we can get away somehow. Then it’s points to Gryffinclaw, both ways – taking points from them, because they won’t have us anymore, and we get points of our own for a successful escape... even if we get “killed” trying to get away, that’s fewer points to them than if we’re still alive at the end of the match...

Ron moved forward a little bit. “Hold still!” snapped the Hufflepuff, pointing her wand at him.

“I need to scratch,” Ron said, trying to sound whiny. He was rather unsettled by how well he succeeded. “My back itches.”

The Hufflepuff kept her wand trained on him. “All right,” she said, waving at him.

Ron scratched his back, turning as he did so that he could see Meghan, who had also turned a little in place. “What’s your name?” he asked the Hufflepuff.

“Brianna Morgan,” she said, still watching him suspiciously. “You’re a Weasley, aren’t you?”

“Ron Weasley. I’d say nice to meet you, but...”

Morgan gave a short laugh. “Nicer for me than you, I think. You’re a good shot, Weasley. You took out a couple of my friends back there.”

“No hard feelings, I hope.”

Morgan shrugged. “All’s fair in war and pick-up Quidditch.”

“Which one is this again?” asked Ron, using his most clueless voice and making both girls laugh.

He brought his hands around to his front, being sure to move slowly and keep them where Morgan could see them, and looked over at Meghan. “She’s not a bad sort for a Hufflepuff,” he told the younger girl, scratching the ring finger of his left hand while curling the other ones out of the way. “Don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” Meghan agreed, sticking out the first two fingers of her right hand and swinging them back and forth horizontally.

Ron arched his back, stretching. “I think I got a five on that last assignment for Snape,” he said casually. “But it could have been a four.”

“What, not a three?” Meghan asked, shifting position and touching Ron’s wrist. A tingle ran up his arm, and suddenly he felt stronger. “Or a two?”

“Not on this one.”

“You probably deserved a zero.”

The word had barely left Meghan’s lips when the two of them were up and charging Morgan. Ron slammed into her, taking her down hard, and Meghan yanked the wand from her hand before she could shoot. “Gryffindor,” she said into the point of the wand, then swung it at a nearby wall. A spurt of red-orange dye shot from it. “We’re good,” she said, pointing the wand back at Morgan.

“Nice trick,” gasped Morgan as Ron got off her chest, making sure he was never between her and Meghan. “You are good.”

“Thanks. You too.” Ron held out his hand, and Meghan gave him the wand. “Sorry about this, but we can’t let you run off and tell.” He swung the wand down hard, spraying dye all over Morgan’s chest.

“Don’t worry too much,” said Morgan, lifting up a talisman from where it dangled at her belt. “I got a message off before you shot me. You’d better get going, before reinforcements get here.”

Ron shook his head. “Hufflepuffs,” he said in mild disbelief. “Fair even if it kills you.”

“It’s not such a bad way to be.”

“This from a dead woman. Come on, Meghan, let’s go.”

xXxXx

Danger stepped out of the fireplace and sneezed. And sneezed, and sneezed.

Dammit , the last time I reacted to anything like this was...

“Letha must have begun brewing the potion,” said Remus from behind her, and she felt his arms around her, holding her up. “Let’s get you outside until you get acclimated.”

“Thanks.” Danger shut her eyes and let Remus guide her feet.

When the Pack-adults had been working on their own Animagus transformations, Danger had helped Aletha brew the potion that they all had to drink. It had all gone splendidly for the first eight days, during which time a new ingredient had to be added every day. On the ninth day, the ingredient was powdered wolf claws, and Aletha had no sooner opened the jar than Danger had begun to sneeze. She’d had to leave the room lest she accidentally upset the cauldron. Luckily, her reaction had worn off within about five minutes, but they had been five of the longest and most miserable minutes of her life.

You’ll be all right soon enough, Remus reminded her, guiding her into a seat on the bench on the back patio. It was warm to the touch and not snowy at all, which meant he’d cleared it for her. Just ride it out.

You’re so helpful. Danger knew she should be nicer, but with her eyes watering and her nose stuffed, she really didn’t want to.

I try.

Luckily, Remus was used to her by now.

“Thought someone was setting off firecrackers out here,” said a voice from the direction of the house. “But I guess it was just you.”

Danger scooped snow off the arm of the bench, packed a snowball, and mentally tapped Remus for permission. In a moment, she was looking out of his eyes. With the odd sense of disorientation that always accompanied such an act, she watched herself aim the snowball and throw. Sirius saw it coming and dodged, of course, but it was the thought that counted.

Besides, his dodge ran him straight into the one Remus had thrown.

“Not fair,” Sirius complained, wiping snow out of his eyes. “Two on one.”

“You ought to have figured that out by now,” said Remus, as Danger returned to her own senses and blew her nose. “When do we ever do anything separately?”

“And don’t answer that,” Danger put in, knowing from experience that Sirius would run straight through an opening like that and go places they really didn’t want him.

“First you ask a question, then you say you don’t want it answered.” From his tone of voice, Danger could tell Sirius was shaking his head. “I don’t understand you people.”

“You don’t have to understand us,” said Remus. “You just have to obey us.”

“Make me.”

There was a scuffle and a rumble akin to a muted roar. “All right, all right,” said Sirius breathlessly. “You made me.”

Danger’s eyes began to clear just in time for her to see lion-Remus letting Sirius out from under his front paws, having left claw marks in the fabric of Sirius’ jacket as a reminder.

The window behind them opened. Aletha stuck her head out. “Is he making trouble?” she asked. “I can give you a hand if you need one. Though you seem to have things under control,” she added as Remus turned to look at her, shaking his mane back.

“Why is it always me?” Sirius asked the world at large.

“Because you invite it,” said Danger, blowing her nose again. “If you didn’t make trouble, you wouldn’t get in trouble.”

“What fun would that be?”

“Exactly. How’s the potion coming, Letha?”

“Not bad. I’m up to day nine, as I’m sure you’ve already realized.”

“No, I had no idea,” said Danger, blotting at her eyes. “Let me see. You started about a week ago, end of January, so it should be done by the end of April, beginning of May?”

“About then. I’ll be stopping before it’s quite finished, though. You can store it when it’s one ingredient away from done, you know, but not when it’s completely finished. You either drink it or it goes bad.”

“So you’ll be finishing it in small batches, then?”

“Probably. Larger if more than one person is ready for it at a time. But I have a feeling I know who’s going to be ready first.”

Remus changed back to human and dusted off his hands. “I think we all knew that,” he said with a smile. “Hard work and dedication pay off again.”

“Now what kind of thing is that to be teaching the cubs?” complained Sirius. “We were supposed to indoctrinate them into Marauder ways. Quick and dirty, and never mind the consequences. When did we get so... so...”

“Old?”

“That’ll do.”

“Right about the time we realized that our parents weren’t quite as mad as we thought they were?” suggested Aletha.

“Speak for yourself,” said Sirius, leading the way indoors. “My parents were every bit as mad as I thought they were. Why do you think I ran away?”

“Well, excepting you, we all found out our parents weren’t quite as mad as we thought they were,” said Danger. “And I think we’ve taught the cubs plenty of Marauder ways. What other family would be not only sanctioning, but helping, their children learn illegal magics at the age of thirteen?”

“Well, if James had lived...”

xXxXx

“So how did the most recent Combat Club go?” asked Sirius later when they were all sitting around the kitchen table.

“The Slytherpuffs beat the Gryffinclaws pretty soundly,” said Remus. “It was hard on the Gryffindors – their first loss – and especially so for Percy Weasley. He was in charge.”

Aletha sighed. “Poor boy,” she said. “He’s so interested in power, but that’s not the sort of thing he’s good at. He’d make a better diplomat than a war leader.”

“You’d have to teach him some tact first,” said Sirius. “Good diplomats can make anyone feel comfortable. Percy’s gift seems to be to make everyone feel uncomfortable.”

“That’s not nice,” scolded Danger, flicking a crumb from her scone at him.

“Unfortunately, it is true,” said Remus. “We’re in den here, no reason to mince words. Percy Weasley would probably bow down to anyone or anything in authority, simply because it was in authority, and not bother to look at whether or not what it was saying made any sense, or whether or not it was right.”

“In other words, he bears careful watching if what Albus fears ever actually happens,” said Aletha darkly. “He could be manipulated the way Ludo Bagman was, used to collect information.”

“Or other things.” Sirius rubbed at a tea stain on the tablecloth. “There’s always secretaries and interns poking around in the files at the Ministry, looking for things. If you wanted something planted, something incriminating, possibly...”

“I don’t think he’d go along with anything that actually harmed people,” said Danger. “He’s not stupid. But he could easily be willfully blind, disbelieve reports because his authorities tell him they’re exaggerated or untrue.”

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “In which case, the best cure would be to confront him with something he can’t explain away.”

Sirius shook his head, looking disbelieving. “Wait a minute,” he said. “When did we start analyzing our neighbors’ children? Don’t we have enough to do with our own?”

“We started,” said Aletha quietly, “when we realized that their lives are going to be closely tied to ours. And when we realized that there might be – have been, and probably will be again – threats to our cubs’ lives while they’re still young. It’s our responsibility to know how all the people around us might act in a situation like that, so we know who we can count on for help...”

“And who might be the opposite of helpful,” Danger finished, staring at the center of the table.

“We’re quite a cheerful bunch, aren’t we,” said Remus, smiling one-sidedly. “Borrowing trouble like it was going out of fashion. Why don’t we talk about something else?”

“What would you suggest?” asked Aletha.

“How are your classes coming?”

“Oh, just fine. Some of the other students keep giving me odd looks, but I don’t know if that’s because I’m so much older or because they’ve heard about the Longbottoms. I do tend to keep to myself, but that’s mostly because I seem to make them nervous if I get too close... although I do get the occasional starry-eyed one who thinks you’re romantic,” she said to Sirius. “Did I tell you about the latest one?”

“No.” Sirius visibly braced himself. “Go ahead.”

“This was a couple of days ago. She plunked herself down at my lunch table – clutching a copy of Happy Ending , no less – and proceeded to tell me that she thought you and I were just like something out of Valentina Jett, and that she wishes she could find a man who would spend years in hiding with no access to the outside world except through her.”

Sirius put his head down on the kitchen table with an audible thump. Danger was doubled over in her chair, holding her chest and stomach. Remus was upright only by virtue of clutching the back of his chair. “At least she got one thing right,” he said through his laughter. “You two are very much like something out of Valentina Jett.”

Sirius lifted his head and glared at his friend. “They say to write what you know. What else was I supposed to do?”

“What I like best is this girl’s apparent delusion that you went into hiding solely because you loved Letha,” said Danger, recovering enough to sit up. “Not because of that little thing called a murder charge.”

“Well, not that I wouldn’t go into hiding for her,” said Sirius, looking at his wife. “But there were other considerations at the time. I’m still amazed she agreed to have anything to do with me, knowing I’d have to be underfoot all the time.”

“You did have quite a reputation as a ladies’ man before we started dating, you know...” Aletha grinned. “This way I could be sure of getting you to stay home.”

Unfortunately, this set Remus and Danger off again.

xXxXx

Draco carefully sprinkled half an ounce of powdered dragon scale into his cauldron and stirred it three times counterclockwise, then dug into his bag to find the apple leaves he’d need next.

Behind him, there was a scuffling sound and a thud. He turned to see Theodore Nott sprawled on the floor between the two rows of desks, with Blaise Zabini helping him up.

“Is there a problem?” said Snape, sweeping over.

“No, sir,” said Zabini quickly. “Nott just slipped, I think the floor is slick here.”

Snape pulled out his wand and cast a charm on the patch of floor, then walked away. Draco frowned, feeling a vague unease about this, but dismissed it in favor of shredding the apple leaves fine enough.

xXxXx

“What the hell was that about?” Theodore demanded of Blaise in the Slytherin common room later. “Why’d you stop me?”

“What were you about to do?”

Theodore glared at him and didn’t answer.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to get Black in trouble, Nott, but it stopped being funny about the time half of us got a week of bad luck out of it. Leave off.”

“Or what?”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even going to try to deny it?”

Theodore scowled. “Why should I? You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. And I don’t really care why you’re doing it. But like I said, it’s not funny anymore, if it ever was in the first place. So leave him alone, or I’ll make you.”

“You’ll make me?”

“Yes, I’ll make you. Remember, we sleep in the same room. And don’t think your fancy expensive locking charms make your things any safer. You still have to sleep in that bed, and there’s no way to lock that up.”

“I could take this to Professor Snape, you know. You’re threatening me.”

Blaise snorted. “Please. You think these are threats? You haven’t hung around your father’s friends much, have you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Quit playing stupid, Nott. Your father was a Death Eater.”

“That’s not true–”

“Don’t bother denying it, we all know it’s true. There’s even some people who might think better of you for it. But if you’re planning on doing what your daddy does, you’d better get used to threats. Real threats, threats towards you, not just your things. Death Eaters like the Unforgivables, from what I hear. And they practice them on each other if they can’t get anyone else. So quit whinging and grow up a little. And leave Black alone.”

“Lion-lover,” muttered Theodore under his breath as Blaise walked away.

xXxXx

Remus looked at his watch again. Harry was now five minutes late for his Patronus lesson.

Will you please relax? He’s thirteen, he’s not always precisely punctual to everything.

Remus was spared the necessity of coming up with a cutting reply by the opening of the door.

“Sorry we’re late,” said Harry, setting his bag down.

“We?”

Draco stepped into the room, looking nervous. “Harry said you wouldn’t mind if I watched, and maybe tried it myself...” He let the sentence trail off.

“I certainly don’t mind if you watch, if Harry doesn’t,” said Remus. “You can even give the charm a try. But I don’t think you can try it against the boggart, since yours is different than Harry’s. Unless Harry faces the boggart, and you cast from farther away... if that’s all right with you,” he added to Harry. “You’d be the one getting the effects.”

Harry swung his arms in warming-up circles. “It hasn’t killed me yet.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Remus dryly. “All right, wands out.”

Draco was able to produce a few wisps of silver mist on a dry run, though not nearly as much as Harry could. Then he backed against the wall to watch Harry practice against the boggart-dementor. Remus was neither surprised nor happy to see both boys pale and sweating when the lamps came back on.

Harry went against the boggart twice more before Remus called a halt. “If you want a go, now’s your chance,” he told Draco. “But only one. It’s getting late, and you two have the match against Ravenclaw on Saturday.”

“Which is why I need to be able to do this,” said Harry unhappily, massaging his wand hand. “And I still can’t, not really – all I get is this big cloud, and it drains me almost as fast as the dementors do...”

“But it’s under your control,” Remus reminded him. “And it should hold them off long enough for us to notice and help you, and for you to land so you don’t fall again. Remember, this charm is higher even than N.E.W.T. level. Don’t expect perfection from yourself the first time out.”

“No, that’s Hermione’s trick,” said Draco. “Think you can stand one more, Harry?”

“If I have to.” Harry turned his chair to face the packing case where the boggart lurked. “I think I’ll stay sitting,” he said. “Save some time when I pass out.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Draco came to within three paces of Harry’s chair and swung his wand back and forth, his eyes half-shut in concentration.

Remus sighed quietly. Do I know what I’m doing?

Last time I checked.

Thanks. I just wanted to make sure.

Fingers crossed, Remus lifted the lid of the packing case.

The boggart-dementor rose from within, chilling the room and plunging it into darkness –

“Expecto patronum! ” shouted Draco, his eyes glinting weirdly silver in the moonlight coming in the windows. “Expecto patronum – expecto patronum! ”

The moonlight seemed to gain a third dimension directly in front of Draco – the silvery gas was drifting forward, covering Harry, slumped in his chair – the boggart-dementor’s advance had been halted, but Draco’s breath was already coming faster, his wand arm shaking –

Remus stepped in front of the boggart. This time, Danger’s body was covered in blood. His “Riddikulus ” turned the blood into ketchup, and the boggart swooped back into the packing case. “Well done,” he said, turning to look at the boys. “Well done, both of you.”

Harry grinned in thanks and accepted the bar of chocolate Remus handed him. Draco nodded and waved it away. “Not hungry, thanks,” he said.

“Trying to get me in trouble, fox?”

“No...”

“Then eat it, or Danger will be after me for neglecting you.” Remus handed the chocolate firmly to Draco. “To the Tower with you both, and get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, throwing a salute. Draco saluted with his chocolate bar, and the boys left the classroom.

Remus sat down, closing his eyes. I think these lessons take as much out of me as they do out of Harry, he said wearily, leaning back in the chair. It’s so damned hard to watch him fighting, and not do anything to help...

Because all your fatherly instincts are screaming that he can’t possibly face this alone, but all your professorly ones are telling you that he has to learn and he never will if you keep helping him along, right?

Succinct and direct as usual. How did you know?

The usual way. Having experienced it myself. I want to swoop in and make everything all better for Hermione, but I know if I do I’ll just ruin things. Besides firmly cementing my image as a nosy parker and a matchmaker.

So what did you do?

Gave her advice, told her it won’t last forever. So it had better not.

It won’t. You just wait. Probably around the time they’re sixteen or so, certain people are going to start noticing certain aspects of certain other people...

Sixteen? You do have old-fashioned ideas.

I meant specifically. I suspect other interests will blossom well before then. Possibly starting now, or very soon.

I wouldn’t be surprised.

Would you be surprised if I started noticing certain aspects?

Of whom?

You, of course.

Good answer. No, I wouldn’t be surprised, but I would be rather pleased...

Remus smiled. Also a good answer. I’ll be right up. He got to his feet, picked up the packing case, and extinguished the lamps with a wave of his wand.

He was halfway down the hall when his pendants flared hot. He nearly dropped the case in his hurry, but Danger beat him to it. Draco, she said, her voice suddenly frightened. Remus – if Wormtail could get on the grounds –

Remus clenched his hand around the medallions. It can’t be. He’s in no danger. Just angry, or frightened – maybe he fell, or hurt himself somehow –

Danger was breathing hard, and Remus could feel her heart pounding, or maybe it was his own. But his father doesn’t want him dead...

Remus changed forms and cast around, quickly finding the scent he wanted. I’m on it, he said, picking up speed. Stay with me – if my sense goes out...

I know. They were intensely one – Remus knew Danger could see the dim corridors he ran through and smell the track he followed, and he could feel the weave of the bedspread she was clutching, taste the sour fear in her mouth that she was swallowing against, over and over. It was as one that they began to hear shouting and crashing up ahead. But the shouting was in only one voice, and that a familiar one...

Remus skidded to a halt outside the door of a boys’ bathroom, changed forms, drew his wand, and tried the doorknob. It turned under his hand, and he threw the door open.

Draco whirled, his face a mask of dismay that would have been comic under other circumstances. For instance, were his hands not dripping blood.

“What in the...” Remus forbore further comment, instead stepping in and shutting the door behind him. Something crunched under his shoes. He looked down.

The floor was thickly littered with shards of mirror glass. Only fragments remained in the four frames on the wall over the sinks.

Draco was now leaning against one of the stalls, looking rather dazed. His hands weren’t as bad as they’d looked at first glance, Remus saw as he got closer. Most of the cuts were shallow, bleeding all out of proportion with their size. However, there were one or two that still had the offending shards stuck in them. “Hold still,” he said, taking Draco’s wrist.

Draco blinked at him in confusion. “Moony? What – ow!” Remus had just removed one of the largest shards with his wand. “What did–” He stared at his hands, then at the room, looking appalled. “What happened? ”

“You don’t remember?”

Draco’s face shut down again. “Not really.” He didn’t react as Remus drew the other shards from his cuts, or as the older wizard conjured bandages around his hands. When Remus repaired the mirrors, though, Draco looked into the closest one for a moment. His nostrils flared in distaste, and he turned away.

Not really, in this case, means I don’t want to?

I think so. Mind letting the other cubs know Draco will be a little late getting to bed tonight?

I’ll do that. And then have certain things ready up here?

If you would. “Come with me,” said Remus aloud, leading Draco from the room.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No. But you need to get these seen to, so you can play on Saturday.”

“I don’t want to play on Saturday.”

Remus nodded. “All right. No one will make you. But you still need to get these seen to.”

Draco looked as if he might object, but didn’t.

xXxXx

“He tripped and fell on some empty potions vials,” Remus told Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. “Cut his hands up. I got the glass out, but I might have missed some.”

“No, you got it all,” she said, running her wand over Draco’s hands. “I assume you don’t want to stay and be treated, Mr. Black?”

Draco looked surprised to be offered a choice. “Not really,” he said, a trifle apologetically.

“No one ever does.” Madam Pomfrey went into her office and came back with two bottles of potion. “Here,” she said, handing them to Draco. “This one in the short bottle to put on your hands before you go to sleep, and this one in the tall bottle to drink. Don’t get them mixed up. Those cuts should be healed by morning, if they’re not, come back, but they will be. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. I think so.” Draco had a small smile on his face, but it vanished quickly as he looked at the potion bottles.

“Wait for me outside, please, Draco?” Remus asked. Draco nodded and slipped out. “Thank you, Poppy,” he said quietly.

“He’s obviously had a shock, or something similar,” Madam Pomfrey said, vanishing the bloodstained bandages Remus had conjured. “And you’re more qualified to deal with that than I am, you and Danger. I assume she’s mixed up in this somehow.”

Remus smiled. “When is she ever not?”

“Go on with you, take care of that boy,” Madam Pomfrey chided, but she was smiling too.

xXxXx

The living room of the quarters Remus and Danger shared was lit only by a brightly burning fire. Danger sat beside it on a cushion, sipping from a mug of hot pumpkin juice. A plate of spice biscuits she knew were special favorites of Draco’s lay beside two more mugs on a wooden tray.

Draco took a mug and two biscuits and went to sit on the couch, across the room from Danger. Remus sat beside his wife and took his mug from the tray. I notice you draped the mirror, and the curtains are shut.

He seems to be reacting badly to reflective surfaces at the moment. I’d rather not have a repetition of what he pulled in the bathroom.

Good thought.

Thank you. So. Approach him, or let him approach us?

Let him approach us, definitely. Remus was certain of this. It’s just like when he was little. We have to let him make the first move. Give him space, and time, and let him do the talking.

As hard as that may be.

Precisely.

Draco looked into his mug as he might into a crystal ball. Gently, he blew into it, and watched as (Remus assumed) the ripples caused by his breath faded away. His features wrinkled again in distaste and frustration, and he put the mug aside and took a bite of biscuit.

The Lupins waited quietly, doing their best to watch their Pack-son without staring at him, sipping at their drinks and nibbling on biscuits. Finally, Draco broke the silence.

“I hate my face.”

“Any particular reason why?” Danger asked quietly.

Draco graced her with a “don’t-be-stupider-than-you-have-to” look. “Why do you think. ”

“Because you look like your father,” said Remus, making it a statement rather than a question.

Draco crushed his other biscuit in his hand. “Yes. Because I look like him. No matter what I do or what I become, he’ll always be with me, haunting me. Because no matter how good I try to be, everyone looks at me and sees a Malfoy. I look at me and see a Malfoy.”

Danger took a breath to say something, but Remus stopped her with a mental touch. I don’t think he’s done yet...

“I mean, it isn’t fair! ” Draco burst out. “Harry looks like his father, but his father was a hero! Ron looks like his whole family, and they’ve all been Gryffindors for ages and done all kinds of great things! Neville looks like his mum, and she’s a hero too – and Luna like hers, and she was a hero – Neenie looks like you, Danger, and Meghan looks like Letha – I’m the only one. The only one who has to look like an effing pureblood maniac who wants my family dead.” He dropped the biscuit crumbs on the floor. “I hate it.”

“Obviously,” said Danger. “But there are better ways of hating things than punching mirrors.” She sat down at the other end of the couch from Draco, who looked at her with a slightly distrustful expression.

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” he said. “I was going to fix it. And I thought I locked the door.”

“It seems not,” said Remus. “And it was your pendants that gave you away. We can show you how to shut them off temporarily, for times when you really want to be alone.”

“I really wanted to be alone in the bathroom.”

“If you say so,” said Danger blandly. “As I was saying, I agree that most people who look at you will see something of your father in you. But I wouldn’t necessarily agree that that’s always a bad thing.”

“It’s not?”

“No. Because of who we are, and what we have to do.” Danger took a drink of her pumpkin juice, organizing her thoughts. “We’ll probably end up in another war eventually,” she said finally, setting the mug aside. “Voldemort is alive, more or less, and there are two Death Eaters out there right now who might at any time decide to go looking for their master and help him return. Unless I missed a memo somewhere, you’ll be on our side in that war.”

Draco nodded fiercely.

“And your father will be on the other side. So you feel that everyone will see him in you, and think you’re somehow tainted or dragged down by him.”

“Yeah.” Draco tugged at a loose end of bandage.

“Unfortunately, some people may well think like that. We can’t change how others think. What we can change is what they have to think about. And you are changing it, every day, just by being who you are. No one who really knows you will be able to think for a moment that just because you look like your father, you act like him as well.”

“It’s not the people who know me I’m worried about,” Draco muttered.

“I know. But think about this, Draco. War makes people do terrible things. One of the worst is also one of the easiest. It’s called demonizing the enemy. You know what that is – denying that your enemy is human, turning him into a faceless creature of evil, something that has to be killed before it kills you, not a person with a family and a home and a life. Except that, with you on our side, we’ll have a harder time demonizing Lucius Malfoy, because he looks so much like someone we love. So by looking the way you do, you may be helping to save some of our humanity.”

Draco looked at her, then pulled his hands apart several times. It was Marauder hand-sign for A bit of a stretch, that.

“Or you could say that you now have a goal for your life,” Remus put in from his place by the fire. “You want to reach the day where you’ve done so much good that people identify your father with you, not you with your father.”

Draco snorted. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

“It might,” said Danger. “Don’t make fun. You never know what tomorrow will bring.”

“Stiff hands,” said Draco, looking at his bandages. “And probably a lecture from Wood. Do you think I can still play?”

“Do you want to?” asked Remus.

Draco nodded. “I was just mad, earlier,” he said. “It didn’t make much sense even to me. Have you ever felt divided, like part of you is arguing with another part?”

Remus laughed. “All the time,” he said. “Even before I met the madwoman on the couch.”

Danger stuck out her tongue at him.

“I felt that way in the bathroom. Part of me was saying I should be proud of the way I look, and part of me wanted to destroy it, smash it to bits. But I couldn’t very well smash my own face. So I smashed the mirrors instead.” Draco looked shamefaced. “I guess it was stupid.”

“No permanent harm done, fox,” said Danger. “Do try to find something less harmful to destroy next time, though. I find fruit very satisfying, myself. It makes wonderful noises when you throw it hard against the wall.”

Draco smiled. “I’ll remember that.”

xXxXx

“Gryffindor leads Ravenclaw seventy to thirty, this match could still go either way, ladies and gentlemen – Draco Black of Gryffindor in possession, passes to Alicia Spinnet, who passes back to Black, who passes back to Spinnet – classic tactics here, confuse the opposite Chasers – and they have indeed been confused! Black’s away with the Quaffle – some fine acceleration there, though not nearly as much as Harry Potter’s top-of-the-line Firebolt–”

“Jordan!”

“Sorry, Professor. Black ducks a Bludger, dodges the Ravenclaw Keeper, and SCORES! EIGHTY-THIRTY GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry zoomed down to high-five Draco before returning to his station high above.

“Harry Potter is widely considered one of the best Seekers Hogwarts has seen in years – well-matched with his new Firebolt, the best broom on the market today, choice of the Irish national side, favorites for this year’s upcoming Quidditch World Cup–”

“JORDAN! PAY ATTENTION TO THE MATCH!”

“Yes, Professor – oh, look at that – Chang may have skills, but that Comet Two Sixty she’s riding just isn’t up to the standards of the–”

The microphone went dead.

High above, Harry agreed with Lee Jordan. Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, did indeed have skills, and not just in flying. He would have loved to know how and why she was making his stomach do slow flips every time he looked at her. Was it because she was so pretty? But no – he knew girls as pretty as Cho, Hermione and Meghan were at least that pretty –

No, they aren’t, said a part of him. No one’s as pretty as Cho.

But how can I be sure? There are lots of girls –

No one is as pretty as Cho, insisted that inner voice. No one ever will be –

“Harry, look out!”

Harry did a roll in midair as a Bludger whooshed through the space where his head had been, followed quickly by George Weasley. “Pay attention to the match, mate!” he bellowed, slamming the Bludger towards a Ravenclaw Chaser.

Right. The match. Harry shook his head and looked around the pitch – Ravenclaw had the Quaffle, but George’s Bludger was about to change that – Cho was at the other end of the pitch, flying slowly around the Ravenclaw goal posts –

And there, near the bottom of one of the posts, Harry saw a glimmer of gold. He gulped. Cho was much closer to it – he’d have to lure her away, then go after it –

He dived, eliciting screams from the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of blue and black behind and to one side of him – Cho had been watching him, she thought he saw the Snitch – which he did, just not the way he was going –

He pulled up sharply, leaving her behind, and spun the Firebolt end-for-end, flying back up the field towards the Ravenclaw goals – Cho was below him, but the Snitch had flown higher since he’d seen it last – if he kept going, he would get there first – but he had to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t try any tricks –

Suddenly, Cho screamed. Harry looked down and saw, far below her, three tall, hooded figures, all in black, draperies billowing around them –

He snatched his wand out of his robes, pointed it at them, and bellowed “Expecto patronum! ” A silvery shape shot from the end of his wand, but he didn’t have time to see what it was – he was almost to the Snitch, and for a miracle, there was no screaming in his mind, no freezing cold or darkness encroaching on his senses –

His hand closed over the Snitch, and the crowd went crazy.

xXxXx

“I did it!” Harry shouted over the crowd as Remus approached him. “I really did it!”

“So you did,” Remus agreed, hugging the boy briefly. “Well done.” He won’t like this. “But I’m afraid I have a confession to make, Harry. Those weren’t dementors you saw.”

Harry frowned. “What?”

“I thought you might do well with a field test of your Patronus. So Sirius and I worked out a spell that would cast a likeness of dementors onto the field. Your Patronus charged down our illusionary dementors quite beautifully, I must say.”

Harry’s expression had gone from confused to shocked to sullenly fuming. “I’ll get you for this,” he muttered.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “And my little dog, too?”

Harry laughed aloud. “Yes, him too.”

“Come on, Harry!” called Ron from the middle of the crowd. “Party with our names on it!”

“Go have a good time,” said Remus, waving Harry away. “You deserve it. Gryffindor’s back in the running.”

“But I will get you for this!” Harry shouted back as he fought his way through the crowd to Ron and Draco, still in his red robes. Remus lifted his hands – of course you will – and gave Draco a thumbs-up as he did. Draco returned it with a warm smile, and the red-and-gold-clad mob moved off towards the castle.

He did take that well.

He’s on a high from winning the match. Wait until tomorrow.

I don’t think I want to. Remind me to double-lock the door tonight.

“You didn’t tell him,” said Aletha as Remus returned to the stands.

“Didn’t tell him what?”

“About his Patronus.”

Remus shrugged. “Should I have?”

“He probably wants to know,” said Sirius. “I would.”

“I’ll let him do a clean casting at our next lesson so he can see it, then,” said Remus. “Will that satisfy your royal highnesses?”

“Ooh, touchy,” said Sirius. “And it’s not even close to that time of the month.”

“He was up late correcting papers,” said Danger. “Don’t get too close, he bites.”

“Only those I love.” Remus leaned over and set his mouth gently around Danger’s shoulder.

Aletha shook her head resignedly. “Just when I think someone else in this Pack besides me is finally starting to grow up...”





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 16: Prank and Prophecy (Year 3)


Chapter 16: Prank and Prophecy

Remus pushed open the door. “You wanted to see me, Minerva?”

“Yes.” Professor McGonagall set aside a stack of parchment. “Sit down.”

Should I be worried because I suddenly feel like I’m thirteen again?

Probably.

“What in the world did you think you were doing to my Seeker yesterday?” Professor McGonagall glared at him. “That was incredibly stupid – what if he’d been so startled that he fell? What if he’d fallen prey to the power of suggestion, and reacted to your false dementors the way he would to real ones? What if he had failed to get the Snitch?”

Ah, I think we’ve just come to the point here.

I think you’re right. “You may well be right, Professor,” said Remus diplomatically. “I’m very sorry. I’m afraid I let Sirius talk me into testing the spell during the match itself.”

Oh, sure, blame your friend.

It always worked before. “But the fact is that Harry did none of those things, as I was sure he wouldn’t. He stayed on his broom, his only reaction to the false dementors was to immediately send a very strong Patronus towards them, and he caught the Snitch. Gryffindor is back in the running for the Quidditch Cup, and I solemnly promise not to play any tricks during the final.”

“You had better not, Remus John Lupin.” She looked down her nose at him. “Because if you do, I will personally inform my House that it is your fault we have lost the Cup for the eighth year in a row. I doubt they will take quite so kindly to you after that.”

Ouch. She’s playing for keeps here.

I noticed. My full name and everything. “You have my word, Professor,” said Remus, raising his right hand. “No tricks.”

“Good. And you can stop calling me Professor now, I’m not yet so old that I’ll fall for such an obvious trick as that. Your apology is accepted. I think you owe Harry one as well, though you may feel the necessity’s been obviated by the most recent piece of school gossip.”

Remus winced. “You mean that rumor about my nickname?”

“Indeed. I was able to trace it back to Mr. Potter and company, so I assume this is his revenge.”

“Yes. Not that a story very much like it hasn’t circulated before.”

“Peter Pettigrew was responsible for the original, was he not?”

“Probably. But I think it was Severus who started the most disgusting form of it.”

“The one claiming the nickname derived from the exact nature of your friendship with Sirius? Don’t look so surprised, Remus, I remember it well. I also remember telling Horace Slughorn that if he couldn’t control the members of his House a little better, I’d do it for him. Why do you think that rumor died such a quick death?”

Remus closed his mouth. “I... suppose I never thought about it,” he said frankly. “It didn’t seem quick to me , but I suppose it never does to the subject of the gossip. Though now that I think of it, that story did have a remarkably short life.”

“Mostly due to my habit of assigning detentions to anyone caught repeating it.” She smiled smugly, then raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t there something you should be saying at this point?”

I do believe I’ve been set up.

I don’t think that’s what she wants you to say.

What did I ever do to deserve this? One nagging woman is bad enough, but two... Remus shut the connection on Danger’s yelp of indignation. “Thank you, Minerva,” he said, standing up. “If there’s ever anything you want me to do for you...”

“I’ll be sure to let you know.” If Minerva had been in her Animagus form at the moment, she would have had one paw on a fish and the other in a pitcher of cream.

Remus exited the office quickly with what dignity was left to him. It is never a good idea, he mused “aloud,” to work alongside the same people who taught you as a cocky, stupid adolescent.

What, you mean you’re not still a cocky, stupid adolescent?

I like to think I’ve moved on a little since then. Now Sirius, on the other hand...

xXxXx

Harry waited at the door of the Arithmancy classroom for Hermione to catch up, humming happily to himself. Hogsmeade this weekend, Hogsmeade this weekend...

“The homework doesn’t look too bad,” he said, catching two books as they fell out of Hermione’s bag. “Almost like a game, really.”

“It is a game,” said Hermione, taking the books back from him. “Like a maze, only we can’t see the walls. We have to figure out what numbers on the sheet are the next ones in the sequence. Like figuring out what stones are safe to step on next.”

“Jehovah begins with an I,” intoned Harry, making Hermione laugh.

Their path up to the Tower led them past Professor McGonagall’s office. As they approached, Harry heard his name and slowed down.

“–safer in the castle?” said Professor McGonagall.

Harry froze, then flattened himself against the wall, conscious of Hermione doing the same.

“Of course they’d be safer,” Moony’s voice answered her. “But that’s only if they stay in the castle. You know boys, Minerva. How likely is it that a pair of thirteen-year-olds with a proven track record of misbehavior will stay where you put them, when everyone else of their age can go out and have fun?”

“But if you explain to them, surely...”

“They’ll understand,” said Danger, sounding weary. “But only with their minds. Their hearts won’t understand at all, and at this age, they’re still so guided by what they feel and how they look – it’s bad enough, from their point of view, that they have to stay with Remus. How much worse if they’re suddenly forbidden to go at all?”

“Hogsmeade,” Hermione breathed. Harry nodded once to show he’d heard.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “I just don’t like it,” she said. “With this new sighting – you haven’t told them yet?”

“We haven’t told them,” said Moony. “Which isn’t to say they don’t know – they’re astonishingly good at figuring things out, especially things they have no business knowing. Witness the Sorcerer’s Stone in their first year.”

“And everyone will know by tomorrow morning, when the Prophet blares it all over the place,” added Danger. “Do you think we should tell them before that?”

“Yes, of course. News like this is always better coming from a known source. And the worst of it is, we’re still no closer to finding out how Pettigrew got onto the grounds in October. Knowing he’s still around is not precisely comforting...”

Hermione’s hand slipped, and the books she was holding dropped to the floor, making a noise Harry was sure could be heard everywhere in the castle, including the Owlery six or seven floors above them. “Sorry,” she squeaked, just before the door of McGonagall’s office opened.

Danger stepped into the hall and looked them up and down, hands on her hips. “Bite your tongue, Remus,” she said over her shoulder. “What you said about them being good at figuring things out.”

“I see how they got that way,” said Professor McGonagall, appearing behind Danger. “Do you encourage this behavior at home, perchance?”

“We do not.” Danger’s glare warned Harry and Hermione that this would not be a good time to bring up the agreements that ruled Pack life. “Your office, Minerva. What do you think?”

“Hmm.” Professor McGonagall regarded them for a moment. “Five points each from Gryffindor for listening at doors,” she said. “Off with you.”

“Just a second,” said Danger, holding up her hand. “Come to the office after dinner tonight, all of you. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Speaking of taking long, I have class next period,” said Moony, appearing behind the two women. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I should go and prepare.” He nodded to Professor McGonagall, scent-touched Danger, and closed the door behind them as they returned to the office.

Hermione scooped up her books, looking as ashamed of herself as Harry felt. “We’re really sorry, Professor,” she said, still staring at the floor.

“I know you are,” said Moony, starting off down the hall. Harry and Hermione followed him. “And we should have shut the door, so part of the fault is ours. Five points to Gryffindor for either real contrition or a very good imitation of it.”

Harry pulled his lips in and bit down, determined not to laugh at this, or even smile. Hermione had one hand over her mouth.

“And five more points to Gryffindor for excellent self-control,” Moony added, glancing back at them.

Harry almost lost it, but swallowed his laughter at the last second. Hermione added her other hand.

Moony stopped and turned around, looking at Hermione in mild concern. “Hermione, are you all right?”

Hermione nodded hard.

“You’re not feeling ill, by any chance?”

Harry’s chest was starting to hurt from the effort of holding his laughter in. Hermione shook her head frantically.

“All right,” said Moony, turning away and starting down the hall again. At the base of the stairs, he turned back. “You’re sure?”

Both cubs nodded madly.

“I take my leave, then.” Moony swept them an elegant bow, winked at them at the bottom of it, and turned with a flourish to run lightly up the stairs. Harry counted ten after Moony’s heels had vanished before leaning against the nearest wall and letting his laughter out at last.

“He’s so awful,” said Hermione weakly a few minutes later, sitting on the floor with her books around her, catching her breath. “But he did give us all the points back, and we don’t really deserve it – we shouldn’t have been listening...”

“But we were,” said Harry, picking up his bag again. “And we heard something important.”

“We would have heard it tonight in any case,” Hermione returned. “You know they try not to keep things from us, unless it wouldn’t help us to know it.”

“But that’s the point. They have to decide if it would help us to know it or not.” Harry handed Hermione her last book and started down the hall. “One of these days they’re going to make a mistake, Hermione. They’re not going to tell us something that we actually did need to know. They’re not perfect.”

“Of course they’re not perfect, but they’ve been doing a pretty good job up to now.”

“I never said they weren’t. But it just bothers me that they get to decide what we hear and what we don’t.”

“They’re allowed to do that, Harry. I mean, they are our parents.” Hermione sighed. “Or the closest things we have, anyway. Do you ever think about that?”

“What it would have been like with my real parents?” Harry shrugged. “Sometimes. More often now, since I started Patronus lessons.”

Hermione winced. “That’s right, I’m sorry, I forgot – you hear them. When the dementors come too near.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I hear other things. Never anything good, though. That’s what dementors do.”

“I know.” Hermione laid her head briefly on his shoulder as they walked. Harry smiled a little and reached around to pull a strand of her hair.

She slapped his hand away. “Watch it. I’ll have claws soon, and then you won’t be able to do that anymore.”

“That’s right, you’re almost ready – you only have the head transformation to go now, right?”

“Right. Of course, that’s the hardest one, but I think I can do it. And then I have to write my final incantation, but I have a month or more to do it, the potion can’t possibly be ready before then. It was nice of Letha to make it for us.”

Harry laughed. “It’s their way of saying they don’t trust any of us with a cauldron, not even you or Draco.”

“Or maybe they’re just trying to save time. Didn’t Padfoot say their potion failed three times before they got it right?”

“Yeah.” Harry thought back. “One ate through the cauldron, one exploded, and one curdled because they couldn’t find Wormtail in time – you have ten minutes to drink it, I think, or it goes bad. I don’t know why they didn’t just drink it without him and make another batch for him.”

“It wouldn’t have been fair,” said Hermione as they arrived at the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Splinters.”

“I think that’s one not-fairness I could live with,” said Harry, climbing through.

“But that’s looking at it from this end,” argued Hermione, following him. “If Wormtail hadn’t been able to change forms, that would have changed everything. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so good of friends with them after that, so he wouldn’t have joined the Order or been a spy. Then your parents would have used somebody else for Secret-Keeper – maybe even Padfoot, like they said they would – and...” She looked around the crowded common room and lowered her voice. “Voldemort might never have found you.”

“How would that be so bad?”

“I’m not saying it would be bad, I’m just saying it would be different. Everything would be different. And we have no way of knowing if it would be better or worse than what we have.”

Harry looked at her sideways. “If you’re telling me to count my blessings...”

She met his eyes. “We do have an awful lot, Harry. More than we would have had almost any other way. I’m not saying it wasn’t terrible that your parents died, but that’s why we have the Pack. So good things can come out of bad things.”

She had a point, but Harry felt that somehow, there was more to it than that.

xXxXx

“Quite honestly, this doesn’t change very much for you,” said Remus to the Pride that night. “We suspected Wormtail might still be around here, and now those suspicions are confirmed. You all know what you should and shouldn’t be doing, and we’re trying to keep your lives as easy as possible. If you can help us by staying within the rules, that would be much appreciated.”

Draco looked like he wanted to mouth off, but Remus caught his eye, and he kept quiet.

Ha. Who says men can’t give the Look?

Well, father to son, yes, but a competent woman can give the Look to anyone.

Who asked you?

“Has there been any news about Lucius Malfoy, sir?” asked Luna.

“No, none at all. If there is, be sure we’ll tell you.”

Odd that she’d ask and not Draco.

He may just not want to, so he asked her to do it for him. It’s happened before.

xXxXx

Harry tossed a bit of parchment into the fire and watched it burn. “So, either they’ve split up, or Lucius is smarter than Wormtail and laying low.”

“Gee, Lucius is smarter than Wormtail,” said Draco sarcastically. “What a genius you are to figure that one out.”

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Meghan.

“What do you think? I’m sick of being a prisoner in the castle, I’m sick of everyone looking at me funny, I’m sick of the whole damned mess! None of this should be happening to me!” He glared around at them. “I’m going upstairs.”

The Pride watched him go. “We’re outside almost every day with Quidditch practice, though,” said Ginny. “And you have Hogsmeade this weekend. Lucky prats,” she added without much real anger. “It’s not as if he’s not allowed to go.”

“I know.” Hermione frowned, watching Draco climb the stairs. “And people haven’t looked at him funny in weeks. Not because of his father, anyway. They’re starting to look at him on his own account. Is it just me, or has he been acting a little odd lately?”

“He is angrier than usual,” said Luna. “It’s like there’s a shadow over him. Maybe we should get him some sun flowers.”

“He’d probably just give them to me,” said Neville, flexing his writing hand. “Hermione, can you check this for me?”

“I mean the kind that glow like the sun,” said Luna. “They grow above the Arctic Circle, in places where the other plants need light when the sun doesn’t come up, so the sun flowers catch it and store it during the summer, and then give it off during the winter. The people there use them for natural headlights on their brooms.”

“You think he just misses sunlight?” asked Ron. “I know I do. Is it ever going to stop raining?”

“It’s the beginning of March,” said Meghan. “It always rains a lot at the beginning of March.”

“I know.” Ron sighed gustily. “It’s just depressing.”

Hermione frowned, looking at Neville’s paper. “Neville, can you really get that much water out of one water cress plant?”

“Why, how much did I put?” Neville leaned over to look. “A gallon? No, that’s not right – why did I put that? It’s a quart, not a gallon.” He reached for his wand and tapped the place, erasing the mistaken word, then wrote in the correct one. “There. Is that everything?”

“A couple of spelling mistakes, I’ve marked them, and a sentence I think is missing a word.”

Meghan giggled and began to sing.

You could while away the hours a-conversing with the flowers...

Neville laughed and joined her.

If I only had a brain!

xXxXx

In the dorm, Draco stared out the window at the pounding rain while the fingers of his right hand lost themselves among the lines and angles of runes carved in glass.

I hate this. I hate it all. I just wish it was over.

One way or another, I wish it was over.

xXxXx

“Form?” Harry shook his head. “I didn’t see if it had one. I was too busy trying to get to the Snitch. Did it have one?”

“It did. Why don’t you give it a try and see if you can make it appear now?”

“All right.” Harry pulled out his wand and thought hard about that moment when the entire Gryffindor team had descended on him, all of them shouting incoherently and grinning so widely he was sure their faces had hurt for hours after. “Expecto patronum! ”

A gleaming silver animal burst from the end of his wand, and Harry didn’t need to think of a happy memory anymore. The smile on his face matched the ones on his teammates’, and the one on Moony’s, as they watched the creature canter around the classroom together.

“Prongs, ” he whispered, holding out his hand to the silver stag.

xXxXx

The weather finally broke on Friday, improving everyone’s mood tremendously. Draco was actually smiling again by the time everyone left for Hogsmeade on Saturday. After walking around the village for a while, browsing at Dervish and Banges a bit, and having lunch at the Three Broomsticks, Remus and the Pride walked up to the Shrieking Shack.

“What does it look like inside, Professor?” asked Neville curiously. Although he and his gran had never formally been let in on the secret of Remus’ condition, he’d picked it up by osmosis after hanging around with the Pride for so long, and of course Alice and Frank had already known. Neville was greatly looking forward to the Easter holidays, which he’d be spending with his parents in their new home near Ottery St. Catchpole.

“It’s a mess,” said Remus frankly. “Torn up, all the furniture destroyed. Probably worse now than it was years ago; since all the predator smells are long gone, it’ll be infested with vermin.”

“There was furniture?” asked Ron.

“Oh, yes. Old furnishings from the castle, beaten up past use. The idea was for me to have something other than myself to attack. Later, when the others started coming along, we had plenty of things to play with, and on, and around, and under.”

Draco rocked on his feet, staring at the Shack. “I want to throw something,” he said. “I want to throw something at it.”

“Be my guest.” Remus bent down and picked up a palm-sized rock, which he handed ceremoniously to Draco. “Here you are.”

Draco grinned, wound up, and threw. The rock slammed hard into the side of the Shack with a hollow thud.

“Move over,” said Harry, scooping up a rock of his own. His didn’t make quite so loud a noise, but it was respectable. Ron’s banged off the eaves, making a different sound.

“Amateurs,” said Hermione, picking up a smaller rock. “Window, first floor.”

She pitched the pebble hard and fast at the tiny window. Glass shattered.

“Make a wish,” said Remus, chuckling.

The boys were all staring at Hermione. “I didn’t know you could throw like that,” said Ron in amazement. “Why don’t you play Quidditch?”

“Because I don’t like to fly very much.”

“I don’t want to throw rocks,” announced Meghan. “I want to throw something else. Can I get closer, please, Moony – Professor?”

“There’s no one here to see you.”

Meghan was already through the fence. Several feet from the house, she stopped, scooped up a large handful of mud, and slung it. It hit the wall with a sloppy smack and clung there. Giggling, she ran straight up to the house, picked up another handful of mud, and used it to write her initials on the wall – MLB – before erasing them with a third handful. “There,” she said, bouncing back to the fence with a cocky grin on her face. “All done.”

Remus sighed. “Hold still.” He Scourgified her hands and cloak, which had gotten splattered. “Your mother would be horrified.”

“That’s why she’s not here,” said Meghan brightly.

“Of course.”

xXxXx

“Hermione.”

“Mmm?”

“Wake up. Please.”

“Colleen?” Hermione rubbed her eyes and sat up. “What’s wrong?”

Colleen brushed back her long, tangled brown hair, looking worried. “It’s my birthday.”

“Many happy returns,” said Hermione, covering a yawn. “Is that a problem?”

“No – but there’s a present here, and I’ve already had them from Mum and Dad, and from my grandparents and my aunts and uncles. And it’s not signed. It just says, ‘From a friend.’”

Hermione was suddenly wide awake. “Like the bracelet you got at Christmas.”

Colleen nodded, running her hand over the carved stone snakes on her wrist. “Just like. The handwriting’s the same, too, I checked it.”

“Are you worried about it?” Hermione slid out of bed, putting her feet into the slippers Danger’d made her. “There wasn’t anything wrong with the bracelet, was there?”

“No – and I’m not really worried – I just...” Colleen looked at the floor. “I want someone else there when I open it,” she confessed quietly. “I thought that would make it... almost like a party. I’m sorry for waking you. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“No,” said Hermione quickly. “No, don’t think that. I’m glad you woke me, really I am. I...” She looked quickly at the clock, then at Parvati and Lavender, still asleep in their beds. “What do you think about an early breakfast in the common room? We’re allowed, as long as we clean up. We’ll make it just like a party, for the two of us.”

Colleen’s smile was incredulous and delighted – and gorgeous. She could be a model. I wonder if she realizes that? The way she walks around, it’s as if she thinks she’s ugly...

Dobby brought them croissants and pumpkin juice, and the girls sat by the fire to eat. After a deliciously crumby interval, Colleen wiped her fingers on her napkin and lifted the lid of the box.

Both girls gasped in delight. A pin in the exact shape of a white lily sat within, every petal and leaf outlined in detail. Colleen lifted it out and stroked it softly. “I love lilies,” she murmured. “They’re my favorite flower... but how did he know?”

“Look, there’s a note!” Hermione caught a slip of parchment as it detached from the underside of the pin and held it out to Colleen.

The other girl shook her head. “Will you read it?” she said, still looking at the pin. “Please?”

“All right.” Hermione swallowed to clear her throat. “‘Dear Colleen, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being mysterious. Please rest assured, I mean you no harm in the world. I simply think you a fascinating and beautiful girl, and I hope you will accept this token of my esteem as you accepted the bracelet I sent you for Christmas. No obligation attaches to them, and no return is expected for them. I merely hope to be your friend. At this time, for reasons beyond my control, that friendship must be from a distance. Perhaps at some future time, we can meet face-to-face. In hopes of that day, and with wishes for a happy birthday and many more, I sign myself, Your Secret Admirer.’”

Hermione set the parchment down and sighed. “That is so romantic,” she said.

“I know.” Colleen set the pin back in its box and shut it. “I just wish I had some way to write back to him. He keeps sending me presents, and I don’t have any way to say thank you.”

“You could ask the house-elves,” suggested Hermione. “They know everything that goes on in the castle.”

“Oh, but he wants to stay anonymous,” Colleen protested. “He’s gone to all this trouble, who am I to interfere?”

“They don’t have to tell you who he is,” Hermione pointed out. “They can take your letter straight to him.”

Colleen’s smile dawned on her face again. “I’ll go start writing right away.”

xXxXx

Dear Secret Admirer,

Thank you so much for the beautiful presents. How did you know so perfectly what I would like?

I think, if I’m going to accept your presents, that I need to know at least a little more about you. Are you a student here at Hogwarts? Where do you come from? What is your family like? I’ll tell you about me in exchange, though you already seem to know quite a lot.

I’m a third year Gryffindor, and I come from Bath. My family is magical, though we have Muggle ancestry not far back. All my relatives are Ravenclaws – my dad accused my mum of cheating on him when I was sorted into Gryffindor, and it was only half a joke. I tried to talk the Sorting Hat out of it, but it said that this is where I was best suited to be. I don’t know why – I’ve never felt particularly brave.

I have one sister, three years older than me – Ravenclaw, of course – Maggie Lamb, prefect and nearly top of her year. Between you and me, I can’t wait until she leaves. Maybe then the teachers will stop comparing us. Not likely, I know, but I can always dream.

I hope to hear from you soon, and thank you again for the lovely presents. I wear them as often as I can. They make me feel beautiful.

Your friend,

Colleen Lamb

xXxXx

Percy was pacing back and forth in the hallway, muttering to himself, when Ginny tapped him on the elbow. “Relax,” she said, smiling. “They’re your friends, remember? We’re all Gryffindors here, all part of the Combat Club, all on the same side, right?”

Percy shook his head, his face tight. “They’re angry with me,” he said. “I can’t blame them, really. That was very humiliating, losing to Slytherin and Hufflepuff that way.” He refused to use the team names made by conflating the Houses, calling them silly and childish. “Obviously, we just need to practice harder...”

“Percy, don’t you have N.E.W.T.s coming up?”

“Yes, and that’s what makes this doubly difficult, finding enough time to practice around studying and homework and all the other clubs, and my duties as Head Boy...”

“So why don’t you give it up?”

“Give it up?” Percy looked astonished. “Give it up? You mean, quit the Combat Club?”

“Maybe not quit entirely. But let someone else run these last two matches for Gryffindor.”

Percy’s eyebrows drew in. “Tell me the truth, Ginny,” he said, sitting down with a sigh. “Do they hate me?”

“No, they don’t hate you,” said Ginny, hugging her brother. This was a side of him hardly anyone ever got to see. Only she and their mother, as far as she knew, were privy to its secrets. “Percy, would you think any worse of Professor McGonagall if she couldn’t brew a complicated potion?”

“No, of course not. She teaches Transfiguration, not Potions.”

“What about Professor Flitwick, if he couldn’t tell you all about the constellations?”

“That’s Professor Sinistra’s job.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly?”

How can someone so smart be so dumb? “Percy, leading the Combat Club isn’t your job. Not really. You don’t like it, and you’re not good at it. There’s no shame in giving it up to someone else who’d like it more and be better at it.”

Percy’s face set into the lines of his public mask. “Weasleys are not quitters,” he said stiffly. “We finish what we start.”

“Weasleys are also not stupid,” said Ginny pointedly. “What they are is brave. Brave enough to admit they were wrong about things. You thought you could lead the Combat Club, and you were wrong.” I hate doing it this way, but it’s time to let the Snitch out of my sleeve. “I nearly got killed because you couldn’t admit you were wrong.”

Percy paled and shut his eyes. Ginny swallowed hard against guilt. She knew what she’d just done – reawakened memories of the Chamber of Secrets, which Percy had tried so hard to forget.

But he succeeded too well. He forgot everything he learned. He was all right over the summer, and for a little while at school, but becoming Head Boy put him right back into his old habits. This may be mean, but I think he really needs it...

Percy opened his eyes. “Maybe...” He coughed. “Maybe you’re right.”

Ginny hugged him again. “Thank you.” Now if we can just get you to say that without it sounding like it’s being pulled out of you by the Cruciatus...

“I’ll go and have a word with Greene, then. He’d do a good job with the group, don’t you think?”

Ginny nodded brightly and watched her brother walk into the room.

Another ten years, and he might even pass for a human.

xXxXx

After stalling on it for three solid weeks, Hermione finally managed to transform her head into that of a cat in the first week of April, and Remus pronounced her ready to take the Animagus potion as soon as it was finished. Harry would have been jealous, except that he was just too busy. Wood had eased up about Quidditch practice to the tune of one night a week, and Harry’s Patronus at the match had released him from those lessons, but one of those nights was devoted to Combat Club practice, and the other to dealing with his ever increasing amounts of homework. He was looking forward to the Easter holidays – he’d still have to do work, but there wouldn’t be anyone adding to the pile while he was doing it.

Everything else in his life was going splendidly. The last Combat Club match had been a complete turnaround from the one before it. With David Greene in charge for Gryffindor and Cedric Diggory for Hufflepuff (since they were out of the running for the Cup, he had time to do this instead), the Gryfflepuffs played very well indeed, taking six of the seven designated “hills,” holding four of them against all attacks, and capturing the one the Slytherclaws had originally taken. Their win had been not only assured, but wonderful. Even Percy Weasley, a bandage around one arm, had been seen to smile during the post-fight analysis.

So now we just need to win the Quidditch Cup...

xXxXx

Sirius knocked on Professor McGonagall’s door, swallowing nervously. “I’m a grown man,” he muttered. “An Auror in good standing, and a husband and father. I don’t need to be nervous about this.”

“Come in!”

“All right, maybe I do.” He opened the door. “Good morning, Minerva.”

“Sirius. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Her tone was only a very little bit sarcastic.

“I wanted to bring you this.” Sirius laid his present on her desk. “Since I know you’re a fan.”

Minerva went pale and snatched the hardbound copy of Knowledge and Wisdom off the desk. “How did you know about this?” she demanded.

Sirius swallowed again. “Look inside the front cover,” he said lightly.

Minerva gave him a hard look, then flipped it open. Sirius turned his eyes out the window, knowing what she would see there. He’d thought long and hard about what to write.

To Minerva, the best Deputy Headmistress Hogwarts has ever known.

With thanks for all the detentions – they taught me about suffering first-hand.

I couldn’t have done it without you.

“Valentina Jett”

“Detentions?” It was a harsh whisper. “This is your handwriting, Sirius Black, don’t you try to deny it.”

“I won’t. It’s mine. But it’s also Valentina Jett’s. See...”

Words failed him as he noticed what Minerva had in her hand. I think I’m about to find out what it feels like to be cursed into the next century. So long, everyone, it was great knowing you...

“Yes, I do see,” she said menacingly. “And I think I’ll show you what I think of you, young man. Impersonating a woman – writing romance novels – shame on you, Mr. Black. Shame on you.”

Her spell hit him full in the face.

xXxXx

Aletha was in the kitchen when she heard the Floo go off. “So, how did it go?” she called.

“I don’t know.” Sirius sounded bemused. “She hit me with a spell and told me to go home. At least it didn’t hurt. I don’t feel any different – do I look any different?”

Aletha looked around the corner. Her eyes widened until she was sure they’d fall out. “Oh. My. Oh my goodness. Oh my Lord.” Further words failed her, as she surrendered to a brief wave of laughter. “That is just... hold still,” she said when she could talk again. “Stand right there.”

“What? ” Sirius demanded as she ran to get the camera.

“Remus and Danger will want to see this!” Aletha called over her shoulder. “Just hold still!”

She was planning to fall apart laughing again after she snapped the pictures. It wasn’t every day that Sirius came home in full drag-queen makeup.

xXxXx

Harry and Hermione returned from their last Arithmancy class before the Easter holidays to find Ron sitting alone at the Pride’s usual table. “Where is everyone?” Harry asked, dropping into a chair.

“Around. Ginny and Luna have class, Neville’s off with Meghan, and Draco’s up in the dorm, reading, I think.”

“How was Divination?” asked Hermione, sitting down on his other side.

“Trelawney,” said Ron with deep meaning in his voice, “is a fruitcake.”

“What’s she done now?” asked Harry.

“She asked me to stay after to help her tidy up. There really wasn’t anything to tidy up – we’ve been doing palmistry since term started, what was I supposed to do, dust people’s hands on the way out? She asked me to get some books down off a shelf, but it turned out what she really wanted was to find out if you or Draco have been feeling weird lately. She said she’s been feeling vibrations about you, that danger draws ever nearer to you.”

Ron had his hand flung against his brow, his eyes half-shut, and was declaiming in a passionate, albeit wobbly, tone. Harry wondered if he should tell his friend that half the common room was watching him.

“Well, of course Danger draws ever nearer to them,” said Hermione in a reasonable tone. “What should she do, leave them alone?”

Harry snickered.

“I don’t think that’s what she meant,” said Ron in his normal voice, taking his hand away. Several first years who had been watching made disappointed noises. “Sod off,” he snapped at them. Hermione glared at him.

“So Professor Trelawney thinks we’re going to die,” said Harry. “Nothing new there.”

“Yeah, but then she went really weird. Her eyes rolled up, her mouth went open, and she started making noises like Crookshanks hacking up a hairball.”

“Crookshanks does not hack up hairballs,” said Hermione.

“Then what was that on my bed last week?”

“He’s marking your bed as his territory. It means he likes you.”

“Most animals piss on things to mark them as their territory,” Ron retorted. “I don’t want your cat pissing on me, or my bed, or anything of mine.”

“Did she say anything?” asked Harry, hoping to avert another squabble between his friend and his sister.

“Who?”

“Professor Trelawney. When she went all weird on you.”

Ron nodded. “She said a load of stuff, but I don’t remember half of it. I think she was just trying to scare me, or freak me out.”

“Maybe,” said Hermione slowly. “Maybe not. You were wearing your pendants, weren’t you, Ron?”

“Why wouldn’t I have been?”

“I have an idea. Do either of you have anything you have to do tonight?”

“Not for an hour at least,” said Harry.

“Me neither,” agreed Ron. “Why?”

“Because I want to try something. But we need a private place.”

Harry looked at the wall by the fireplace.

“Good idea,” said Ron, and got up to walk over there nonchalantly, leaning against the wall and staring into the fire. Harry saw his friend’s lips move, and then, suddenly, he wasn’t there anymore...

No, that’s just the stealth mode working. Harry blinked a couple of times, and saw Ron climbing into the chute, with Hermione standing behind him, ready to come down after him. He set his school bag on the floor and followed them.

“It’s something Danger told me once,” said Hermione when they were sitting in the library together. “About the pendants, when she was telling me all the different things they do, the gifts from the different Founders. One of the Ravenclaw gifts is that they let us share memories. Kind of like a Pensieve.”

“A what?” asked Ron.

“It’s a stone basin,” explained Hermione, “and you put thoughts in it. You can take thoughts out of your mind, you know, thoughts and memories. You can put them in a Pensieve and let them mix around, and sometimes they come up with things you wouldn’t have on your own, or not right away. Or you can go back to a moment you experienced before, and look at it again to see if you missed something.”

“Weird,” said Ron.

“See if you missed something?” asked Harry. “You mean, even if you don’t remember it yourself?”

“Exactly.” Hermione beamed. “Because our pendants work a little like that, I thought we could go inside Ron’s memory and see what Professor Trelawney said.”

“Go inside my memory?” Ron stared at Hermione. “Won’t that hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt. It’s like watching a movie, except we’ll be in the scene. We don’t hear your thoughts or anything, I don’t think. We just see what happened.”

“Why are you so interested in this?” asked Harry.

Hermione twisted a lock of her hair. “I don’t know, really... just a feeling. And something I found out the other day. With all you and Neville have been telling us about Professor Trelawney, Ron, I wanted to find out more about her. And they keep the minutes from old staff meetings in the library, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. I found the minutes from a meeting back before any of us were born, where Professor Dumbledore suggested removing Divination from the Hogwarts curriculum. A couple of the other professors convinced him to interview one more candidate for the position, and he agreed. By the next month, he had decided to keep Divination, and he’d hired the person he’d interviewed.”

“Who did he interview?” asked Ron. “Trelawney?”

Hermione nodded. “Something must have happened,” she said certainly. “For Professor Dumbledore to change his mind so fast, and so completely, and about someone like Professor Trelawney – I mean, he’s not stupid...”

“Maybe he just feels sorry for her,” suggested Harry. “Because she obviously never made a real prophecy in her life.”

“Or maybe she does make real prophecies sometimes,” said Hermione. “Maybe she made one during their interview, and Professor Dumbledore decided he wanted to keep her at Hogwarts so she’d be safe, and to make sure that if she ever made another one, he’d know about it instead of Voldemort.”

Ron gulped. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t do that ,” he said. “It’s just a name, Ron. A bunch of letters all put together in a funny way. He screwed around with the name his mum gave him and came up with that. What’s so awful about it?”

Ron shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It just is. And I think you’re looking at this too hard, Hermione. So he decided to keep Divination – maybe he just changed his mind. People do that.”

“There’s something else, though,” said Hermione. “I told you this was before we were born, but I didn’t tell you when. It isn’t quite right, even. You were born, Ron, it was the summer of that year. But Harry wasn’t born yet. Nor was I, but that’s not important – do you see what I’m getting at?”

“No,” said Harry, then stopped. “Wait. Yes. I think so... yes. I do see.” He was tempted to look around for a dementor – the room seemed suddenly darker, and colder, much colder...

“‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,’” whispered Hermione. “‘Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...’”

“No way,” said Ron incredulously. “No way – you think Trelawney made that prophecy? That old fraud? She couldn’t prophesy a dragon egg would hatch a dragon and be right!”

“It could be, Ron,” said Harry, forcing himself back to calm. “The timing’s right, it could have been her.” Knowing this didn’t change anything, he told himself. He’d already known about the prophecy, or part of it, at least – there was more to it, he remembered, more that the Pack-parents weren’t telling him yet, and that wasn’t fair...

But knowing, or suspecting, who had made the prophecy wouldn’t make any difference.

Unless Hermione’s right, and this is another real prophecy Ron saw her make...

“Ron, can we see that memory?” he asked, making up his mind.

“Sure, if you want – I wouldn’t mind seeing what she really said anyway...” Ron pulled out his chain. “You’re sure you won’t see inside my head?” he asked Hermione.

“I think so. Like I said, it’ll be as though we were inside a movie. We’ll see you and Trelawney, but you won’t see us.”

Harry felt another cold chill. He had been inside another person’s memory precisely once, and only later had he found out who that person had been, or rather, had become.

But this is Ron, not Tom Riddle. My friend, not my enemy.

“Harry?”

He looked up. Ron was holding out his chain. “You in?”

Harry took the chain and slid it over his head. “Let’s do it,” he said.

“Fair enough,” said Ron. He looked at Hermione. “How?”

“Get your wand out,” said Hermione. “Touch it to the pendants, think hard about that moment with Trelawney, and say, ‘Cadimus in memoriam. ’ I think that’s all you have to do.”

Ron drew his wand and set its tip against the pendants, his brow wrinkled up in thought. “Say it again?” he asked without looking away.

“Cadimus in memoriam. ”

“Cadimus in memoriam, ” Ron repeated carefully.

They had time for two breaths. Then, without warning, the spell took effect. Harry felt himself lifted out of the chair where he sat with a jerk a bit like a Portkey’s, but gentler and much less centralized. Then he was falling through darkness. It was almost like the effects of a dementor, except that he wasn’t at all afraid; he felt safe here, not embraced or coddled, but there was a sense that whatever was around him would die rather than let him come to harm...

He landed softly on his feet in a small, cluttered, circular room, dimly lit with a reddish light, filled with small round tables and chintz-covered chairs, and pervaded – he sneezed – by a sickly sweet odor.

“I think she burns incense,” said Ron beside him. “Stinks, doesn’t it?”

“Where do you want these, Professor?” said Ron wearily – from across the room. Harry stared, first at the boy at his side, then at the one across the room. How could Ron be in two places at once?

“It’s all right,” Hermione said from his other side. “That’s Ron when this memory happened.”

Ron was staring at himself, fascinated. “I’m taller than I thought I was,” he said.

“I think it’s just Professor Trelawney,” said Hermione. “She could make anybody look tall.”

Harry agreed. Professor Trelawney was a small, thin witch, draped in shawls and beads, wearing enormous glasses which magnified her eyes tremendously. Currently, she was walking beside the Ron of memory, her hands fluttering.

“Do be careful with those, my dear, please – there on the table is fine – thank you for getting them down for me, you’re a fine young man, really you are – your friend Harry is very lucky to have you around...”

“Here we go,” said the real Ron, sitting down in one of the armchairs.

“How is he, by the way?” Professor Trelawney peered at the memory Ron. “I never have quite got over my disappointment that he chose not to study Divination – it would have been so lovely to have met him... before...” Her lips quivered. “Such a handsome young man, so brave in the face of such danger, drawing ever nearer to him... if I could only warn him... But no matter. How is he?”

“He’s fine,” said memory-Ron, setting down the stack of books he’d been carrying. “Just fine. But he’s probably waiting for me, I should go–” He grabbed his bag and made for the hole in the floor which was the exit, but Professor Trelawney detained him with a hand on his arm.

“And what of young Draco Black? How is he holding up against the dreadful strain? I have seen him, and his father, many times in my orb as I gazed within it – the vibrations around them are unusually strong – tell me, does he by any chance have an orb of his own? A ball of glass or crystal, into which he gazes for inspiration and calm?”

“Uh – yeah,” said memory-Ron, looking nonplussed. “His cousin gave him something like that for Christmas. I think it’s to help him study.”

Professor Trelawney blinked. “Study?” she repeated. “To help him study? My dear boy, mystic vibrations cannot be harnessed for such a mundane function as to assist in study! You must tell him to come to me immediately, before he attempts to crystal-gaze again! He could severely injure himself if he persists in gazing without proper instruction!”

“I’ll tell him, Professor,” said memory-Ron, now obviously disturbed. “But I really have to go now, I have... er... another class...”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Professor Trelawney, seating herself in her armchair and fussing with her shawl. “Make sure to pass on my messages, now...”

And then it happened. A loud rasping noise filled the air. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, Hermione gulped audibly, and even Ron, who had seen this before, leaned forward in his chair, fascinated. The Ron of memory froze, one foot on the ladder, as a slack-jawed Professor Trelawney began to speak.

“The impossible will happen. ”

“Er... sorry?” said memory-Ron, staring at Professor Trelawney. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, her breathing was loud and harsh.

“On the night of the willing return to the long-abandoned prison of youth, the impossible will happen, three times over... souls shall join against the darkness, the faithful three will ride again, and five shall spill their blood upon the ground... revenge and mercy wreak havoc alike, as an ancient lie becomes truth... on that night... the impossible... shall... come... to... pass... ”

Memory-Ron’s jaw was hanging as loose as Professor Trelawney’s. He summed up Harry’s feelings perfectly with one word.

“What? ”

Professor Trelawney blinked very rapidly and coughed several times. “I’m sorry?” she croaked, and her eyes went wide at the sound of her voice. “Mercy me, what a dreadful sound – I must have a cup of tea to wet my throat – would you like one?”

“Er... no thanks,” said memory-Ron, still staring at her. “I – I have to go. Right now.” He climbed down the ladder as rapidly as he could.

“I think that’s all we need to see,” said Hermione. “Ron? It’s Remigribus . Point it up,” she added, nodding to his wand.

Ron aimed his wand at the ceiling. “Remigribus ! ”

They were falling in reverse, soaring upwards, it was like riding a broom except there was no broom –

Brilliant figure of speech, that. I could write books like Padfoot, make loads of money off them.

Harry shook his head. He was sitting in an armchair in the library of the Hogwarts Den, with Ron and Hermione on either side of him. “Wow,” he said.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “I didn’t remember she said all that. Hermione, can you write it down for us?”

“Already on it.” Hermione was at the desk in the corner of the room, scribbling. “Revenge and mercy,” she muttered. “Havoc alike... ancient lie becomes truth... impossible shall come to pass. There.” She picked up a sheet of parchment and blew on it. “Do you think it’s meant for us?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Dunno,” said Ron. “Are prophecies meant for certain people?”

“Well, it depends on who it’s about. So I suppose we should try to figure that out, if we can.”

“And maybe what it’s about,” said Harry, coming to look over Hermione’s shoulder. “I didn’t like that part about five spilling their blood on the ground or revenge and mercy... what was it again?”

“Wreak havoc alike,” Hermione recited. “And you’re right, it doesn’t sound at all good.”

“Eight heads are better than three,” said Ron, already halfway out the door. “Let’s get everyone else in on this.”

“Good idea.” Hermione followed him.

Alone for a moment, Harry looked around the room. “I hate prophecies,” he said to no one in particular. “I really do.”

Then he headed for the red bedroom, to get started on deciphering this latest piece of his future.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 17: Global Concerns (Year 3)


Chapter 17: Global Concerns

“Dad, I think our house needs a name.”

Gerald Lovegood looked up from the storyboard for the May issue of The Quibbler. “Do you, now? What brought this on?”

“The Pack has the Den, and the Weasleys have the Burrow.” Luna perched on the arm of a chair. “And now the Longbottoms have Fireflower House.” Neville never seemed to tire of welcoming his friends to his home. A smile was getting to be a permanent part of his expression. “I think we ought to have a name for our house too.”

“Well, what would you suggest, sweetheart?”

“It ought to be something special. Something that shows what kind of people we are. Do you remember how Mum used to laugh when you said you were ready in case people from outer space ever came to visit us?”

Gerald smiled reminiscently. “She laughed, yes, but she helped me get ready too. But maybe that was just because she loved me... I never could figure it out.”

“Would you still be ready now?”

“I’d need someone else to help me set out the signs and the landing lights. Even with magic, it’s a two-person job. But yes, as long as I had help, I could be ready within an hour or two.” He looked over at his daughter. “Why do you ask?”

“You want them to come land here, don’t you?”

“Very much.” Gerald nodded firmly. “It would validate several theories of mine.”

“I’d like it too. And when I become an Animagus and learn to fly, I’ll need a place to land.”

“You know you can always land here, darling. Even when you’re all grown up and married to Draco.”

Luna giggled. “I thought we could call our house the Landing Zone.”

“What a wonderful idea! The Landing Zone... why didn’t I ever think of that?” Gerald beamed. “I’ll get the forms from the Ministry first thing tomorrow. Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome.” Luna hugged her father. “Daddy, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do boys always act strangely when they’re thirteen?”

“Always. Why?”

“Draco’s been odd ever since Christmas. It comes and goes, but it’s always there at least a little. He looks... darker than usual. Like I was seeing him through sunglasses. Sometimes he’s just a little dark, but sometimes I can barely even see him.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Gerald sighed. “Yes, boys often feel a little dark at this age, and Draco’s likely to feel it more than most, with his past, and what’s been happening recently. I’d imagine he feels overshadowed by his father. That’s probably what you’re seeing – you know you see things that other people don’t, or only see with magic.”

Luna nodded. “There’s a funny kind of aura all around Mr. Moony and Mrs. Danger,” she said. “Shaped like their Animagus forms. Mr. Padfoot and Mrs. Letha, too, and Professor McGonagall. Do you think we’ll get that when we become Animagi?”

“I wouldn’t wonder.” Gerald regarded his daughter tenderly. “Luna, love, does it ever get tiresome to see all these things? Because if you don’t like it, we’ll try to find a way to make it stop, as soon as we can. I don’t want you burdened.”

“No, I don’t mind it. I rather like it.”

“All right, then, no more need be said. Now why don’t we see about some lunch?”

xXxXx

Draco sat under a tree in the Weasleys’ orchard, listening with half an ear to the yells and cheers of the game of pick-up Quidditch in progress. Normally, he would have been in there playing, but he just didn’t feel like it today.

I haven’t felt like flying for a while. I know I won’t play the final match, so it doesn’t matter so much if I’m in training or not. I still go to practice, but I spend most of the time on the bench. Suits me fine.

He picked up a nearby rock and rolled it between his palms. Idly, he imagined it growing, becoming larger and heavier, smoother and glossier, with deeply engraved lines which held messages and stories, if he only knew how to read them...

Suddenly dissatisfied with everything around him, he hurled the rock away and watched it bounce off a tree several yards from him.

What am I even doing out here? I have work to do. I’d better get back to it.

He stood up to head back to the Den.

Den. Stupid name, really. Makes it sound like a hole in the ground. Not quite as stupid as the Burrow, though...

“Oh, Draco,” said a voice above him. He looked up. Fred was lying full-length on his broom a few feet over his head. “Knut for your thoughts.”

Draco glared at him. “Bugger off.”

“That’s polite,” said George, swooping around the nearest tree and pulling up expertly. “It was a perfectly civil question.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t answer questions from weasels, no matter how polite they are.”

“You don’t answer questions from what?” said Fred, sitting up in indignation.

“Weasels. That’s all you are, both of you. Short, thick, freckly weasels.” Draco was a little surprised by the venom behind the words, but it was obscurely satisfying to watch the identical faces go through the process of shock, offense, and determination.

Wait a second. Determination?

“You know, I think you need to learn some manners,” said George from his broom, dropping to the ground.

“And I think I know how we can teach you those manners,” said Fred, doing likewise on Draco’s other side.

“See, it takes one to know one.”

“Or one to know two, in this case.”

“So if we’re weasels, you know what that makes you?”

“I know what it makes him.” Fred grinned. “After you, George.”

“No, after you, Fred.”

“If you insist.”

Draco realized, belatedly, that he really should have got his wand out while they were talking. He grabbed for it now, but it was too late.

The world spun, shrank, and went a funny color, and for a second or two, he itched like crazy. He’d felt similar to this before – in the basement of the Den, when he’d been ten years old...

Oh, hell.

He wasn’t a fox, he knew that much. His shape was all wrong. He was long and lithe, with short legs and a thick tail. He twitched his nose, and saw it move. His face must be awfully long and pointed for that to happen.

“So now what do we do with him?” said one of the twins over his head.

“Don’t know. We’ll think of something, I’m sure.”

The ground rumbled under Draco’s feet. He squeaked in alarm, then realized it was just people coming. Lots of people.

“What’s this?” said Ron’s voice, and Draco turned to see the red-haired giant pointing down at him.

Grand. Not only did they turn me into something, but now the entire Pride’s here to see it. His only comfort was that Luna wasn’t there – and it’s not exactly a comfort, because she might have been able to see through this and shame the twins into turning me back...

Draco tried to run, but Fred Summoned him. “Nothing,” he said with what was probably a winning smile from the human point of view, but looked positively demonic to Draco.

“Looks like a white ferret,” said Harry.

“It is a white ferret,” said George.

“Then why did you say it was nothing?” asked Ginny.

“We meant, nothing important,” said Fred patronizingly. Draco writhed in his hand, trying to get away, then had a brainstorm. Squirming to get himself into the proper position, he bit down hard.

“OWW!”

Fred dropped him, and Draco took off running again, only to be Summoned by George this time. He was ready to repeat his performance, but George seemed to have learned from his twin’s mistake and held him at wandpoint, dangling in midair, legs and tail flopping about. “That was very naughty of you,” he said. “I think we need to teach you a lesson.”

Draco was irresistibly reminded of his dream over Christmas as George bounced him up and down. Didn’t I just leave this party? To add to his misery, the Pride was laughing and clapping. They obviously had no idea who he was. And I think I’d rather have it that way...

Meghan used a wanded healing spell on Fred’s hand once she’d cleaned the bite out, and the twins led a procession back to the Burrow, tossing Draco between them with their wands. Three-quarters of the way there, Harry said, “Where’s Draco got to?”

“Oh, he’s around,” said George. “Somewhere.”

“We saw him back at the orchard,” added Fred.

“All right.”

And you call yourself my brother.

But Draco refused to try to attract attention – this was humiliating enough without begging for help. If he could just get away from the twins, he could get home and make himself understood to one of the Pack-parents, get turned back, and this would all be over with.

He’d reckoned without Mr. Weasley. The twins’ father was tinkering with a toaster in the front yard of the Burrow, and looked up as the procession approached. “Hi, Dad,” chorused Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny, with the rest of the group chiming in, “Hi, Mr. Weasley.”

“Hello, all. Fred, George, just a moment. What’s that you’ve got?”

“Ferret,” said Fred.

“I can see that. Where did you find it?”

“Orchard,” said George.

“And was it a ferret when you found it?”

The twins glanced at each other, looking suddenly nervous.

“That’s what I thought.” Mr. Weasley pointed his wand at Draco.

This is going to be awkward. Draco managed, at the last second, to get his feet under him and land more or less upright, dropping to one knee, but he knew he still looked a right idiot, with his hair all over the place, his clothes in disarray, and his face probably bright red by now.

I just need something good to say. Something really cutting, something even the twins can’t miss.

And then, suddenly, he had it. It wouldn’t be so much what he said, but the way he said it. Style was everything.

He stood up and brushed himself off. “Mr. Weasley,” he said in his politest tone. “May I please kill your sons?”

Mr. Weasley looked consideringly at the twins. “Well,” he said slowly, “since we seem to have a spare...”

The twins exchanged panicked looks and took off running. The Pride burst into laughter.

“No,” finished Mr. Weasley, smiling. “But if you’d care to get them back for this, I can’t say I’d mind.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that.” Draco felt a brief flare of triumph, but it was quickly drowned by a flood of humiliation. The Pride’s laughter was dying down, replaced by uncomfortable looks and shuffling feet.

I can’t believe they saw that. All of them. And they laughed... they thought it was funny...

“I’m really sorry, Draco,” said Hermione earnestly. “We didn’t know it was you.”

Draco forced a smile. “It’s all right. You couldn’t know.”

“We shouldn’t’ve laughed,” said Harry. “It wouldn’t even be funny if it was an animal, because then it would just be mean. We’ll help you get back at them if you want.”

The smile felt stiff on his face. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.” The words came out woodenly, as if he’d never met these people before and didn’t know them. “Actually, I was just heading home. A lot of work to do.” He suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of walking back to the Den with everyone’s eyes on him. “Mr. Weasley, can I use your Floo?”

“Of course. You know where it is.” Mr. Weasley was looking at him with concern in his face. “Are you all right, Draco? Not hurt anywhere?”

Nowhere but my pride. “I’m fine, sir. Thank you.” Quickly, Draco ducked inside. Mrs. Weasley turned to him, smiling, but stopped, looking surprised, when she saw him. He didn’t bother to wonder why, just taking advantage of her silence to cross the room, take some Floo powder from the flowerpot, and toss it into the fire. “The Marauders’ Den!”

The music room was deserted, as was the kitchen, the front hall, and the stairway. He made it all the way up to the boys’ bedroom without a single person seeing him, and shut the door firmly behind him before throwing himself down on his bed, seething, burrowing his head into his pillow.

I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. It was an easy mantra to chant silently, over and over, working itself into the rhythm of his heartbeat and his breathing. He sat up, lifted the globe from where it rested on the nightstand, and stared into it. His eyes drifted half-shut as he felt his pulse throbbing against the glass, inside his hands.

I have to get them back. Really get them back, no silly playing around. I’ll make them pay for this.

What’s something they care about a lot? Something I could get at, mess up, destroy even?

One possibility came immediately to mind. The twins had talked for years about having their own joke shop someday, developing their own line of trick sweets and prank-related items. Their work was probably the source of most of the explosions heard in the Burrow on a daily basis when they were home, and the ones in Gryffindor Tower when they were at school.

What if I could find their notes? All the information they’ve collected, on everything they’ve ever done? Bet they’d make a lovely bonfire. He grinned, fingers tracing the familiar lines of the runes. I’ll get Ron and Ginny to work out what they’ve done to their room, Hermione to research how to get around it, and Harry to help me with the actual work. And then I can laugh at them when everything they’ve worked for goes up in flames...

Vaguely, he heard the Floo go off downstairs.

They’ll be sorry then. They’ll be really sorry. But it’ll be too late. I’ll stand beside that fire, I’ll look them in the eye, and I’ll tell them, this is why you don’t ever mess with a...

Someone knocked on his door.

His concentration broken, Draco hastily set the globe aside. “Come in!”

Luna opened the door. “You’re angry,” she said, looking at him. “I’ll come back later.”

“No, don’t go,” said Draco, standing up hastily. “Did you want something?”

“Just to see you. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing. The shadow is very dark.”

“What?”

“You have a shadow all around you,” Luna elaborated. “It gets lighter and darker depending on your mood. And it’s very, very dark right now. I can hardly see the real you inside it.”

Something in her matter-of-fact tone pierced Draco’s mood. His anger drained away.

What was I thinking? They embarrassed me, but that was all. They didn’t hurt me, they didn’t take anything from me, and they didn’t do it to be mean. They did it for fun. Hell, if I’d been in a better mood, I might have thought it was fun.

Burning their notes would be a major overreaction. Not to mention the trouble I’d be in for destroying other people’s things. That was out of line.

“It’s much lighter now,” Luna remarked. “You look almost normal.”

Draco smiled. “I feel a lot better too,” he said. “I think I need to do something different. Would you like to play together?”

“Yes, very much. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Draco crossed the room and offered Luna his arm. “My lady.”

She took it with her sweet smile, and they descended the stairs together, headed for the music room.

xXxXx

“Moony, can I talk to you?”

“Of course, Harry. What’s on your mind?”

“The prophecy you told me last summer,” said Harry. “Who made it?”

It wasn’t quite the last thing Remus had expected, but it was fairly low on the list. He set aside his quill and turned to face Harry. “Why do you ask?”

“I... just want to know.”

“As do I.”

Harry looked out the window. “Ron heard Professor Trelawney say something that might have been a real prophecy,” he said. “And Hermione went back to old school records and found out she was hired right before I was born. Was it because she made that prophecy, and Dumbledore wanted to keep her safe?”

Remus made a mental sound of amazement and exasperation. It’s official. They’re too smart for their own good.

What, you didn’t know that?

I knew. I was just in denial. “Yes.”

Harry sighed, as if hearing news that was expected but still bad. “Hermione will be happy,” he said. “She was convinced she was right. Ron was convinced she was bonkers.”

“So Ron won’t be happy.”

Harry shrugged. “Can’t have everything.” He took a scroll out of his pocket. “Hermione wrote it down for us.”

“How, if she didn’t hear it?”

“She heard it.”

“You said Ron heard it.”

Harry explained about traveling into Ron’s memory. Remus vacillated for a moment between being proud and being stern, and went with the former. “But in the future, it might be a good idea to do untested magic somewhere safe,” he said.

“We were safe,” Harry protested. “We were...” He stopped.

“Yes?”

“Somewhere safe,” Harry finished lamely.

“Somewhere safe. You’re sure.”

“We’re sure. The Map said so.”

“The Map said so? Harry, we made the Map. There’s no place on there that we don’t know about. Where is it?”

“I think this is one. Wait here.” Harry took off running before Remus could say anything, and returned in under a minute, panting and flushed, with the Map. “Watch,” he said, handing it to Remus and activating it. “Map, what happens if I say...” He leaned in and whispered something to the Map. “...to the wall near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room?”

A hole opens in the wall, exposing a stone chute, the Map printed. This chute leads to an area of the school that has been forgotten for centuries, until you and your friends, Harry Potter, rediscovered it in your first year.

“Oh, so you’ve been using it since your first year,” said Remus.

“Traitor,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Is it safe for us to go there?” he added in a normal tone.

Perfectly safe. And I am no traitor. I merely respond to the wishes of the person or people holding me.

Remus smiled. “Did your creators know about this area of the school?” he asked, just in case James or Sirius, or Peter, had been holding out on him.

They did not.

“Then how do you know about it?”

One of my creators was a blood Heir of one of the Founders of the school. Through him, I have access to knowledge about the school that he did not, on his own, possess.

For one second, the world seemed to slow. Remus could see and feel everything around him with perfect clarity – the sunlight coming in through the window, the breeze on his skin, the parchment in his hands – but only one thought occupied his mind.

One of the Map’s creators.

One of us.

“One of you was an Heir?” said Harry in awed tones as time resumed its normal flow. “Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“Harry, we didn’t know. Not until just now.” Remus shook his head, staring out the window. “Go put the Map away. Turn it off first.”

Sirius, was his first thought. It has to be Sirius, as the Heir of Ravenclaw. That would account for Meghan’s talent.

But what if it’s not? What if it was James? If it was – that means –

Harry poked his head back into the room. “Should I tell the others about this?”

“No,” said Remus emphatically, making up his mind. “Absolutely not. We don’t know nearly enough, and this will only lead to wild speculation. Let it be our secret for now, until we learn more. All right?”

“Fine by me.” Harry’s head withdrew.

Remus put his head down on his desk, then picked it up again as he felt ink adhere to his forehead.

Everything was going so well... why do we have to have complications now?

Because he had a horrible suspicion he knew which of the Marauders had been an Heir, and which Founder he’d been Heir to.

James.

James would have made a perfect Heir of Gryffindor. He was Gryffindor House personified – all the strengths, all the weaknesses – hell, when we go upstairs for the boys’ birthdays, Paul Gryffindor even acts like James used to. It has to have been James.

And Gryffindor said that his current Heir had his powers bound as a baby by his father, but that his father was dead now, so there was no one to take the bindings off...

He stared out the window.

So we’re raising the Heir of Ravenclaw, friends with the Heirs of Hufflepuff, and now it’s possible we also have the Heir of Gryffindor here.

Why don’t we just move into the castle and be done with it?

Sirius walked into the room, humming, and stopped, staring at him. “Is there a reason you wrote your name backwards on your forehead?”

xXxXx

“Are you telling me it’s going to be done before they go back to school?” asked Danger, watching Aletha measure out the potion into eight parts and put seven of them into storage vials.

“It should be.”

“But I thought it wouldn’t be finished until the end of this month!”

Aletha grinned. “Don’t tell the boys, but I asked Severus Snape for some tips.”

“Ah. And he didn’t wonder why you were making this particular potion?”

“He gave me that sour look he’s so good at, but he didn’t actually say anything. I have a feeling he knows, but he has no proof, so he won’t be telling anyone.”

“Not to mention, he’d have to admit helping you to account for how he knew, and that would implicate him in it as well.” Danger peered into the cauldron. “So what did he tell you?”

“Well, it seems shredding the yarrow leaves crosswise instead of lengthwise speeds it up by a few days. So does boiling the carrot flowers in water spiked with ground mica. But the real timesaver in this case was the powdered dragon’s teeth.”

“That sounds rare.”

“Not terribly, but it is fairly expensive. Luckily, you only need a pinch. It brings liquids to the boil faster, and lets them boil hotter, so they finish their required boiling time about ten percent faster. It doesn’t sound like much, but when you have a potion that has to be boiled for most of its twelve-week brewing period...”

Danger shook her head. “I’d never be able to do the maths right.”

“They include a conversion chart for all the usual boiling times,” said Aletha, nodding her head towards her workbench. “The only drawback is that once or twice, because of the time cutback, I’ve had to get up in the middle of the night to tend to it.”

Danger laughed. “Always something, isn’t it?”

“Always. But in this case, it’s a fine something. If Hermione’s not an Animagus by the end of the year, I’ll eat my cauldron.”

xXxXx

The potion was boiling furiously as Hermione stirred it, cautiously, counting seconds under her breath between each stir. “Any minute now,” murmured Aletha comfortingly, checking the clock in the corner. “Any minute...”

The liquid in the cauldron turned clear.

“That’s it!” Hermione jumped out of the way as Aletha quickly doused the fire and drew the potion into a goblet with her wand. “Now we’ll just let it cool...”

Hermione danced up and down with excitement. “Can’t you cool it with a spell?” she begged.

“I don’t want to risk ruining it. This is tricky stuff – too much other magic applied to it, and it turns useless. Don’t fuss, Neenie, you have ten minutes, and there’s nothing going on...”

The Floo chimed.

“Let’s see who that is.” Aletha led Hermione into the music room and stopped dead.

Minerva McGonagall had just climbed out of their fire.

Of all the people to come visiting right this very minute. She’s an Animagus herself, she knows what this potion smells like, and she also knows that all the adults in this house are already Animagi...

“Hello, Aletha, is Sirius around?”

“He’s upstairs. Hermione, will you run and get him?”

“Of course. Hello, Professor.”

“Miss Granger-Lupin.” Minerva nodded to the girl distractedly.

“Can I take your cloak?” asked Aletha.

“Oh, yes, certainly.” Minerva shrugged out of the garment, and Aletha noticed as she hung it on one of the hooks on the mantel that the older witch was clutching a book.

It’s Sirius’ latest – is she here about that? She must be...

“Hermione said someone’s here to see me...” Sirius trailed off as he saw who it was. “Hello, Minerva.”

She faced him squarely. “Sirius, don’t lie to me. Is or is not Athena McElheny in this book meant for me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say she’s meant for you,” Sirius temporized. “She’s... a lot like you, she does things the way you would, I suppose you could even say she’s based on you... yeah, she’s meant for you,” he confessed finally, looking very much like a naughty boy in front of his Head of House.

“That’s what I thought.” Minerva set her book aside, moved forward until she was directly in front of Sirius –

And stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice suspiciously choky. “It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me...”

Sirius seemed to be unsure whether to look amazed or appalled. “You’re... welcome?” he faltered, staring at her. “I mean... you’re welcome, Professor. Minerva. I mean... oh, never mind.” He shook his head, grinning. “You’re welcome. I always thought you’d make a good heroine if you just had the chance.”

“A good heroine? Is that what you call her? Threatening people with Muggle metal wands, sneaking around listening at doors, piecing things together and nearly getting herself killed – is that how you see me?” Minerva had obviously recovered fully from her momentary lapse.

“Well, I’ve never seen you do any of that,” Sirius admitted. “But I’m sure you would. If you had to. You are Head of Gryffindor House.”

“Indeed I am, and I hope I have more sense than to do foolish things like that. Prancing around in the dead of night to rescue people. Really. As if I didn’t have more than enough to do.” But Minerva was smiling as she picked up her book and cloak, Aletha noticed.

She started to step back into the fire, then paused, sniffing the air. Aletha gritted her teeth. Damn it, she noticed...

Minerva turned to face Aletha. “Do I want to know?” she asked.

“No,” said Aletha quickly. “No, you don’t.”

“Then I won’t ask.” But she was still smiling, and her eyes darted quickly to Hermione before assuming a questioning look.

Aletha gave a fraction of a nod.

Minerva’s smile broadened. Then she looked perplexed for a moment, as if trying to decide how to put something.

“Hermione’s a lot like you, Minerva,” said Sirius casually. “Getting more so every day.”

Minerva’s eyes brightened. “I see. I’m very proud of her, of course, in class. She’s one of my best students.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Hermione politely, but her eyes kept wandering to the door of Aletha’s workroom.

“Whatever you have in there that’s so interesting, go and do it,” said Minerva briskly. “I won’t keep you any longer. I just had to ask – thank you again, Sirius – and good luck.”

Aletha breathed a sigh of relief as the green flames died down in the fireplace.

“She knows,” said Hermione in awe. “And she’s not going to get us in trouble for it.”

Sirius laughed. “She admires your courage for trying it,” he said. “She told me so herself, when she found out what James and Wormtail and I had done.”

Aletha looked at him in amusement. “Was this before or after the reading of the riot act?”

“After.”

“Thought so.”

“Can I please go drink it now?” asked Hermione with carefully obvious patience.

“Yes, I think it should be cool enough. Let’s go see.”

“Hang on, I’ll get Moony and Danger down here,” said Sirius, hurrying out of the room.

“That’s a good idea,” said Aletha, retrieving the potion-filled goblet from the workroom. “Do you want Meghan and the boys here as well?”

Hermione looked torn, but nodded.

“I’ll get them.” Aletha set the potion carefully on a table, drew her wand, and thought hard about seeing Frank and Alice again, then mentally spoke the incantation. A silver dog leapt from the end of her wand, and she directed it with a quick thought to fetch her daughter and Pack-sons.

Surrounded by her Pack and well within the ten-minute limit, Hermione Granger-Lupin became the first of her Pride to drink the potion that would make her an Animagus. She downed it in three long swallows, then made a face. “That’s awful. Like... like vinegar, but greasy. And salty, too.”

“You only have to drink it once,” said Remus, conjuring a cup of water for her.

“Yeah, but the taste lasts for days,” muttered Sirius.

“You’re so encouraging,” said Danger.

“Too late for her to back out now, isn’t it?”

“Not for us,” said Harry. “Not that I would, but it’s tempting.”

“I’m thinking about it,” muttered Draco.

“No way,” said Meghan firmly. “I’m doing it.”

“So you are,” said Remus. “You’re holding your own, too. Minerva should have no complaints about your performance in her class when you start school next year.”

“It’s hard to remember she hasn’t already started,” said Aletha, leaning over to hug Meghan. “With you being gone all the time, Pearl, I tend to forget you’re not the same age as these other three.”

“Could I be?” asked Meghan, obviously seizing the moment. “It would just be an Aging Potion, that’s easy to make, and it wouldn’t be a whole lot for just three years – and then I could take it back off once I started getting old, a little at a time...”

“No, ” said all four Pack-parents at the same time. Meghan pouted as the other cubs laughed.

“There are some things even we won’t let you do,” said Sirius, making a face back at Meghan. “Contrary to popular opinion.”

“No fair.”

“Yes fair. I’m your father, and I say it’s fair, therefore it is. End of argument.”

Meghan tilted her head to one side. “You look funny sitting on a slant like that,” she remarked. “Why don’t you slide down the floor?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you?” Sirius drew his wand and hit Meghan with a quick Tickling Charm, making her squeal and giggle madly. Within a few seconds, a full-fledged spell fight was going in the music room, making Aletha very glad all the furnishings had been chosen for comfort and ease of cleaning.

This is what life should be like, she thought comfortably, ducking Danger’s Twitchy Ears Hex and firing back a Nose-Hair Ringlets Jinx. This is my idea of heaven.

xXxXx

Draco lingered a bit after Care of Magical Creatures on the Monday that started term. “I was just hoping to say hi to Buckbeak,” he told Hagrid.

Hagrid beamed, setting aside a bucket of frozen Ashwinder eggs. “Yer gettin’ ter be great friends with him, aren’ yeh? All the rest of his herd headed back ter the Forest weeks ago, but he’s still hangin’ around. I’d bet that’s because yeh tol’ him yeh’d be back ter see him.”

“Or maybe it’s just because you feed him,” Draco retorted with a grin. “I think he’s lazy. But I wouldn’t say that to his face. I do like him.”

“An’ he likes yeh back. I kin tell. Come on, then, he’s out behin’ the house...”

After the exchange of bows, Draco sat on the paddock wall and stroked Buckbeak’s feathers for a while, until the hippogriff got bored and started rooting around for worms. “I like you, Buckbeak,” he said quietly. “You’re nice to be around. You don’t want anything from me. Except a little politeness and some scratching, and I can do that.”

Buckbeak turned to look at Draco, then went back to digging. Draco rolled a small rock between his palms, watching the great creature burrow. “Do you ever get tired of trying to be what people want you to be, Buckbeak? Do you ever feel like saying, ‘Well, it’s been fun, but now it’s time for me to do my own thing, so long, everyone’?”

Buckbeak pulled up a worm and gulped it down. Draco smiled slightly. “No, I suppose you don’t. It must be nice to be an animal. No worries, no responsibilities. Just find food and don’t get eaten yourself, and do whatever you want for the rest of the time. No one to fuss over you or try to make you do things. And you’re even luckier, because Hagrid takes care of you, and all you have to do in return is behave yourself for some of the classes.” He sighed. “I could almost wish I was you.”

Buckbeak looked over at Draco, then trotted up to him and took some of Draco’s hair in his beak, drawing it away. He did this several times, then laid his head gently against Draco’s shoulder.

“I think he likes you,” said a quiet voice behind Draco.

He jumped, as did Buckbeak. “Hermione! You scared me!”

“Sorry. Just coming to see where you got to. Hi, Buckbeak.” Hermione bowed, and the hippogriff made a grumbling noise in his throat but bowed back. “Are you all right?” she asked Draco.

“Fine. Just fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been a bit standoffish lately. Are you still mad at the twins for the ferret thing?”

“No, not really.” Draco smiled reminiscently. “That was brilliant, what Harry thought up to get them back. I didn’t even know you could do that. Did you find that spell?”

She nodded. “It was a good thing Moony was willing to help us, though. We’d never have been able to do it on our own.”

“Probably not. But it was pretty funny, watching them walk around stuck to each other. Joined at the hip. And when they tried to get it off...”

Hermione grinned. “I loved when George made it so they were stuck front to front instead of side to side. But the best was when Fred tried, and the spell he used unstuck them but turned them both into Siamese cats.”

“And then they fought.” Draco punched at the air in front of him. “And you could just tell from the way they were yowling at each other that if they’d been able to talk, they would have been saying something like, ‘This is all your fault!’ ‘No, it isn’t, it’s your fault!’”

They were both laughing now. Draco caught his breath once they’d finished. “Thanks,” he said.

“What else are sisters for?” Hermione smiled at him. “Do you remember how we used to twin-talk?”

“Used to? We still do it.”

“Not for a while. I wonder why.”

Draco shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed we’d stopped, so I don’t think it’s me.”

“Maybe it’s me, then. Or maybe it’s just something we outgrew.”

“Could be.” Draco hoisted his schoolbag. “See you later, Buckbeak.”

The hippogriff fanned his wings in farewell.

xXxXx

The Quidditch final was exciting, noisy, and exceedingly dirty. Slytherin was determined to make Gryffindor lose at any cost, and Gryffindor was determined to win at almost any cost. This led to some interesting fouls on both sides, and some plays that weren’t quite fouls but came close.

Harry’s flying between Slytherin Beaters Derrick and Dursley and causing them to collide led to much cheering on the non-Slytherin side of the stadium, but he hadn’t done anything to them, so it wasn’t illegal. Meanwhile, Fred and George were able to monopolize the Bludgers and pick off the Slytherin Keeper, allowing Gryffindor to score twice.

Gryffindor had to be sixty points or more ahead before Harry caught the Snitch, or they’d win the match but lose the championship. Wood had been hammering that point home to the entire team for weeks. Harry sometimes heard “You must not catch the Snitch before we’re more than fifty points up!” in Wood’s anguished voice in his sleep.

The current score was fifty-ten, and Harry had seen the Snitch once but been fouled by Marcus Flint, the super-seventh-year Slytherin Captain, and lost sight of it. It was just as well, he thought, glancing over his shoulder at his opposite number, Terence Higgs. He’d find it again at some point, and even if the older boy saw it first, with his Firebolt and superior flying skills Harry could fly rings around Higgs and force him off track.

A burst of cheering made him whip around – Alicia had just scored again. Sixty-ten. One more goal and the Snitch, and the Cup would be theirs.

“Come on,” Harry whispered, watching Slytherin Chaser Warrington speed down the pitch with the Quaffle. “Come on, drop it...”

An idea occurred to him. He aimed the Firebolt ever so carefully and dived. Katie Bell, far below him, screamed, as did much of the crowd. He was gathering speed, faster and faster he went –

He pulled up sharply and looped Warrington, startling the Slytherin into a yelp and making him drop the Quaffle. As he’d hoped, the Gryffindor Chasers had realized what he was up to, and were hovering just below. Angelina snatched the Quaffle and pelted off up the field with it, tossing it back and forth to Alicia in the move that had so successfully baffled Ravenclaw’s Chasers at the last match – but Montague and Flint were coming up fast, one of them for each girl –

And Katie flew out of nowhere, intercepting the Quaffle in mid-pass, and took off with it, momentarily unopposed –

Something hit Harry in the head. He thought for a confused second it was a Bludger, then realized that although Dursley was flying nearby, the Slytherin hadn’t hit anything towards him, and anyway Bludgers weren’t that soft. Nor were they white and papery.

It was a little bird made of folded parchment, and it fluttered frantically at him, pointing its beak up the field – Harry looked that way and saw, with a shock of fear, Higgs in hot pursuit of a glimmer of gold –

The faces in the stands turned into blurs as Harry threw himself forward on his Firebolt. His world had narrowed to just those two things – Higgs and the Snitch – and the goal of keeping the one away from the other, but not catching it until –

“KATIE BELL HAS BEATEN THE SLYTHERIN KEEPER!” roared Lee Jordan’s voice jubilantly. “THE SCORE STANDS AT SEVENTY-TEN GRYFFINDOR – AND THERE GO THE SEEKERS!”

Harry felt his face breaking into a huge grin – if there was such a thing as an anti-dementor, he was under its effects now. The Firebolt was not a separate entity but part of him, carrying him effortlessly past Higgs, over and around two or three other players, and straight up to the tiny golden ball.

The hand he closed around it, he saw with mild surprise, still held the little parchment bird.

xXxXx

Draco yanked a quill from his robes, tapped it quickly with his wand to load it, and began scribbling frantically as screaming, sobbing people rushed past him.

Harry –

Whatever you do, DON’T MENTION THAT BLOODY BIRD I SENT YOU JUST A SECOND AGO. To ANYONE. It was cheating, I know it was cheating, but it gets us what we want, right? So if you want to stay at Hogwarts, DO NOT MENTION IT TO ANYONE.

– Draco

He folded that note quickly into eighths and joined the screaming throng, letting his spirits rise.

We won. We really, truly won. We honestly – well, semi-honestly – won.

He managed to shove his way through the crowd long enough to get to Harry’s side and push the note into his hand. Harry unfolded it, scanned it, then dropped it, looked up, and rolled his eyes. I won’t, he mouthed, just before the crowd hoisted him onto its shoulders.

“But do me one favor!” Harry shouted over the noise as he was carried off towards the stands where Dumbledore awaited with the Quidditch Cup. “Keep them from shouting my name all over! ”

Draco laughed, and took a deep breath, setting his voice into projection mode.

G-R-Y,

F-F-I,

N-D-O-R Lions!

More people began to pick up the chant, an old favorite.

G-R-Y,

F-F-I,

N-D-O-R Lions!

Now most of the stadium was chanting it.

Lions rule!

Lions rule!

We’re the masters of the school!

Who just won? shouted the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

We did! screamed the Gryffindors.

Who just won? The second time was louder.

We did! Draco was sure his ears would never be the same.

Gryffindor just won at

QUIDDITCH!

Harry hoisted the Quidditch Cup above his head, grinning madly. Wood was sobbing openly, as were the girls. Fred and George looked like their faces might fall off any minute from smiling too hard.

Hermione caught Draco’s eye and pointed. Percy was jumping up and down and screaming, just like everyone else. Ron and Ginny were laughing at him in between cheering for Harry and the team. Neville had Meghan on his shoulders, where she was waving an enormous Gryffindor banner, and Luna’s lion-head earrings made her three times as noisy as anyone else. Draco appreciated that.

In the stands, Padfoot and Letha were kissing. Danger and Moony had their wands out. As Draco watched, they pointed them skyward. Twin fireballs streaked upward from them and met in midair, producing a great, fiery lion which roared realistically, then exploded into letters reading “GRYFFINDOR: QUIDDITCH CHAMPIONS!”

The screaming couldn’t possibly have got any louder, except that it did.

xXxXx

“All right, Ron, your turn,” said Harry, taking another handful of candy from the bowl in the middle. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Greatest wish,” said Neville.

“An owl of my own.”

The boys all laughed.

“It’s true!” insisted Ron, looking put-out. “That’s all I want, and it’s simple enough, and what do I get for my birthday? Socks. Maroon socks.” He pulled a face. “You’re up, Draco. Truth or dare?”

“Er, truth.”

“Who d’you fancy?” asked Dean Thomas.

The other boys groaned. “That’s an easy one!” protested Harry. “Everyone knows he’s sweet on Luna!”

“Do I still have to answer?” asked Draco around a mouthful of Bertie Bott’s (peanut, apricot, leaf, salt, cloth, and coconut, he’d said).

“New question,” said Seamus Finnegan. “Greatest fear.”

Draco inhaled sharply and choked. Harry thumped him on the back until he spit out the offending beans. “Nearly dying when a great stupid prat like you startles me,” he wheezed, wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve. “Someone else go.”

Harry watched his brother out of the corner of his eye. Draco seemed all right, but every now and again something small, like this, would suddenly set his back up, and it would take him a while to calm back down.

And it’s been like this a while. Ever since Christmas, or thereabouts...

He’d watch a while longer, Harry decided. But he was probably being stupid. Draco had been home like the rest of them for Easter, and the Pack-parents hadn’t seen anything wrong with him.

And they would if anyone would.

He returned to the game, where Dean was now attempting to balance three Chocolate Frogs on his nose.

xXxXx

Out on the Quidditch pitch, a green-robed figure walked amid the litter of the day. He was seeking one piece in particular.

I think it might be useful. Especially now that daddy’s not-so-good little boy has been scared off his game. He grinned. This could be my big break.

Wand lit in his hand, he continued searching.

xXxXx

“This will be a full-class mock test,” announced Snape. “You will do everything precisely as you will do it on your final exams, three weeks from today. Cheating will not be tolerated. You have one hour to complete the theoretical portion. Begin.”

The parchment in front of Harry suddenly filled with writing. He read the first question while dipping his quill. It dealt with substitutions for ingredients, asking when it was and wasn’t allowable. It wouldn’t be easy, but he thought he could come up with a decent answer.

If the whole test is like this, I might have a chance...

Suddenly, a parchment bird landed on his desk. This one, unlike the one at the match, was fairly large – it looked like it had been folded from an entire sheet of parchment. He was about to unfold it when Ron poked him and handed him a note. Harry frowned at the two pieces of parchment in front of him, then slowly started to unfold the grubby note in his hand.

“Potter!” snapped Snape from beside one of the Slytherin desks. “What do you have there?”

I’m so dead. Harry swallowed and got to his feet. But I’m not taking Ron down with me. Wordlessly, he showed Snape the two notes.

“Fifteen points from Gryffindor,” said Snape, sweeping over and taking possession of bird and note. “Sight unseen.” He unfolded the note, looked inside, then looked again. Slowly, he looked from note to bird, then turned away from Harry. “Black,” he said silkily. “Come with me.”

Draco looked up from his test, startled. “Me, Professor?”

“I see no one else of that surname in this class. Yes, you.”

Draco looked at Harry suspiciously. Harry shrugged, hoping his innocence showed on his face – he had no idea what was in either of those notes, or where they had come from. He hoped it got sorted out soon. They had real exams to study for.

xXxXx

Albus Dumbledore looked up as his door opened and Severus Snape entered, Draco Black behind him. “Headmaster, I would like to meet with you, Minerva McGonagall, and Remus Lupin and his wife immediately, if possible.”

“Is something wrong, Severus?”

“It is.” Severus tossed two sheets of folded parchment onto Albus’ desk. “I have just caught Black cheating in my class.”

xXxXx

Remus felt his heart sink to somewhere near the level of the Slytherin common room. “It does look like his handwriting,” he said carefully. “Draco? Did you write this?” He held up the folded note.

Draco glared at it. “Yes,” he said. “But not today, and not about this. And I never stole that answer sheet.”

“Then how does it come to be on Harry Potter’s desk?” demanded Snape. “I think I can follow this story, if you’ll allow me. Black breaks into my office before class today and steals the answer sheet to the mock test. He has time to memorize them himself, and as the test begins, he decides to share his good fortune and sends the answers to his brother .” The word dripped sarcasm. “He waits, of course, until I have my back turned to send them by air mail.”

Draco was obviously bursting to say something, but Remus shook his head.

“But just as the bird leaves him,” Snape continued, “he realizes that Potter, being rather more simplistic and idealistic than he is himself, may blurt out his good fortune to the entire world. So he sends another note, by more Muggle means so as not to attract too much attention, warning Potter not to say anything about the bird. Fortunately, one of my other students noticed the unusual traffic near the front of the class and mentioned it to me, and here we are.”

Minerva shifted in her seat. “Mr. Black,” she said in what, for her, passed as a kindly voice. “Please, tell us the truth. Were you cheating in Professor Snape’s class today?”

“No. ” Draco stared balefully at Snape. “I’ve never seen that answer sheet before. I’ve never even been in your office – I’m not even sure I know where it is! I was not cheating, and neither was Harry!”

“Draco, please try to understand,” said Danger. “We want to believe you. But when you tell us you wrote this note to Harry, admitting to cheating, but you won’t tell us when or why... can’t you see it’s a little hard to believe you?”

“You think I’m lying, don’t you.” Draco’s breath was coming faster. “You all think I’m lying. Let me tell you something, Professor. ” The title was loaded as much as Snape’s earlier use of the familial title for Harry. “If I did want to cheat in your class, I wouldn’t need to steal your answers. I know them all myself. And I wouldn’t have been so stupid as to send them to Harry for the mock test, or in a big bloody bird like that, when I know half that class is just dying to find anything they can to get me into trouble!”

“Draco, no one is trying to get you into trouble,” said Remus. “But if you’ve cheated on something, we have to know. What was it?”

Draco shook his head. “You’d hate me if you knew,” he said. “You’d...” His eyes widened, darting from one adult to the next. “You do hate me. All of you. You hate me! You think I’m lying, and you hate me!” He pointed at Remus and Danger, his voice rising hysterically. “You don’t want me – you’ve never wanted me! You just took me because you had to! ”

He bolted from the office.

“Teenagers,” said one of the portraits in a raspy, disgusted voice.

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore with a sigh. “Where is he likely to go?”

“Back to the Tower, I’d guess,” said Remus. “Why don’t we see if we can find out when this note was written, and work out what we can on our own before we try to confront him again...”

xXxXx

Draco tore through the common room, startling the second and seventh years considerably, and took the stairs three at a time, mind whirling. He knew what happened to people who cheated on tests at Hogwarts. Repeating a year was for the lucky ones like Marcus Flint.

And after what I just did, I don’t think I’m lucky.

I wonder what I’ll get apprenticed into. And where I’ll live, when the Pack kicks me out.

He was so lost in frantic thought that it took him several seconds to realize he was trying to push aside a hanging that wasn’t there anymore – he’d ripped it down in his haste. With a groan, he kicked it aside and sat down on his bed.

The globe sat on his nightstand, a familiar, comforting presence. Quickly, he picked it up and began to caress it. Tell me, he thought towards it as the smooth red calm flowed over him and filled him. What should I do now?

Slowly, a plan began to float into his mind, and as he thought it over, he began to smile. Of course, it was brilliant, perfect. It would save him – save him? It would turn him into the savior of the entire wizarding world! Then he’d be the celebrated one, not Harry – who cared about Harry, anyway?

You do.

He tried to banish the troublesome little voice, but it persisted. You care about Harry. You care about him a lot. You were trying to make sure he wouldn’t get in trouble for cheating when he didn’t.

Well, Harry would be fine without him. They’d all be fine without him. He was going to do what he should have done in the first place. He was going to leave. Only this time, he was going to take everything with him that he was entitled to have. He’d go to his house – Malfoy Manor was his, after all – and wait there. His father shouldn’t take too long to find him. They’d be outcasts together, until the day they forced wizarding society to take them back...

“Ow!” Draco pulled a finger around from the underside of the globe and stared at it. A drop of blood was welling up on it.

Must have found a rough spot. Reflexively, he stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked. He’d go right away, as soon as he could get packed, and as soon as he could get out to Hogsmeade...

A knock sounded on the door. “Draco? Are you all right?” called Luna’s voice from the other side of the door. “You came running in – at least I thought it was you, I couldn’t see you because of the shadow...”

The door opened. Luna stepped inside. “Draco? I know you’re in here...”

She came within sight, took one look at Draco, and screamed.

Shut her up! Now, before she brings everyone running and you lose your chance! Draco supported the globe on his lap and groped in his pocket for his wand, preparing to strike the brat down –

What? No! I don’t want to hurt Luna!

Don’t argue with me. Do it!

NO! Draco forced his fingers open from where they’d clenched around his wand. I won’t!

He felt his hand yanked back to the globe. You’ll do as I say, growled what he could now clearly discern was a voice different than his own. You’ll do as I say, or I’ll make you!

Draco got to his feet, staring furiously down at the globe his hands were now clutching without his wanting them to. I will effing NOT!

He screamed himself as lightning coursed from the globe through his body, sending him into convulsions, triggering his every nerve so that he was burning and freezing and crushed and in agony all at once. He would have dropped the globe, but he couldn’t move. He was vaguely aware that he was no longer upright, that he’d fallen to the floor between the beds, that there were other people in the room, but his attention was focused inward, on the raging battle –

Obey me! Do as I say, and the pain will cease!

Piss off and die! I bow to the people I choose, and no one else!

Choose me, then. Or you will die.

The pain intensified. He screamed again, and thought he heard his scream echoed in a higher register –

And then it was gone. There was nothing between his hands, no false messages sent to his nerves, his muscles were blessedly limp. In his last instant of awareness, he felt two fingers on his cheek, and knew who they belonged to.

Neenie.

The darkness claimed Draco Black with a smile on his lips.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 18: Despair and Curse (Year 3)


Chapter 18: Despair and Curse

“Harry, we’re going to get in trouble,” said Hermione worriedly, hurrying to keep up with her brother. “We shouldn’t have left class – we should have kept going with the test, like Professor Snape told us to...”

“You want to go back, you go back,” said Harry, his steps never faltering. “Draco’s in trouble. I’m going to help him. You do whatever you want.”

“Well, if you put it that way.”

“Where are we going?” asked Ron.

“Dumbledore’s office. That’s where Snape most likely took him.”

“Look!” cried Hermione, pointing upward.

Feet pounded the steps two stories above. Harry caught just a glimpse of pale blond hair before the person vanished up the stairs. “He’s headed for the Tower,” he said with certainty. “Come on!”

Meghan hurtled out of a secret passage to join them on the fifth floor. “What’s wrong?” she gasped out. “I know it’s Draco – what happened?”

“Snape thinks he was cheating,” panted Neville, running with a hand pressed to his side. “Thinks he tried to send Harry answers.”

“Splinters!” shouted Harry to the Fat Lady as they came into view.

“You and your family, always hurrying,” she said as her portrait swung open. “Don’t you ever walk anywhere?”

Harry practically dove through the portrait hole. His foot snagged, and he only missed landing on his face by taking the impact on his shoulder. Ginny was at his side in a moment, helping him up. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Draco ran through here just now like a referee with his broom tail on fire, and his carving’s been glowing for a good five minutes.”

“Snape thinks he cheated in class,” said Harry. “But he didn’t.”

“I couldn’t even see him when he ran through,” said Luna. “The shadow covered him too well. It was like he was under a Cloak of Darkness.”

“Shadow?” said Ron.

“He’s been under a shadow for a few months now,” said Luna. “It gets lighter and darker, but it’s always there.”

“Remember, she can see through Animagus,” Ginny reminded her brother. “She can probably see when things are wrong with people too.”

“I’m going to go upstairs and see if he needs any help.” Luna began to climb the boys’ stairs.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” said Percy, coming over to their group.

“No teacher,” said Harry shortly, rubbing his sore shoulder. “He left to do something. Should we go up too?” he asked the rest of the Pride.

“Let Luna handle him to start with,” said Hermione. “She’s good at it. She’ll find out what’s wrong, and then we can help figure out what to do next.”

“Snape’s probably going to be right behind him,” said Neville. “If Draco ran out on him. We might have to stall him off.”

“Even Snape can’t get him in trouble for cheating if he wasn’t, though,” said Ron. “I’m sorry about this, Harry, I should have thrown that dirty old note out when Parvati gave it to me–”

High above, Luna screamed.

Harry attacked the stairs, Hermione and Ron only an instant behind. Halfway there – three-quarters – Luna’s screams hadn’t let up –

Harry slammed the door open just as Draco screamed as well.

For one instant, what he saw froze him in horror – lightning lashing from the globe Draco held, writhing all over his body. Draco’s back was arched, his eyes closed, his yells of pain now coming through clenched teeth.

Harry’s paralysis ended. He charged into the room, clearing the doorway for others. “Get help,” he said over his shoulder to Ron, and felt rather than saw the taller boy start back down the stairs at a run.

“Move!” he yelled angrily, and his voice was joined by another.

“Come on, off those stairs, out of the way now!”

Percy?

But Harry didn’t have any more time to listen to that. Meghan and Ginny had followed him in and were holding Luna, who was cowering away from Draco, sobbing and pointing at him. Neville shut the door behind Hermione, who was staring at Draco. Tortured moans were escaping him now as he thrashed on the floor, his face a mask of pain and stubbornness.

“We have to get it away from him,” she said in a rush, darting to Draco’s trunk and flinging it open. “I think I know how – get ready...”

Draco screamed again as the lightning coming from the globe increased in intensity. Hermione leaped onto his bed and down again, landing neatly beside him, and screamed herself, in fury, swinging the back end of Draco’s Nimbus Two Thousand and One down hard and smashing the globe out of his hands. Harry snatched up the discarded bedcurtain lying in the middle of the floor and dived on top of the globe as it rolled free, wrapping it up in the curtain’s red folds.

An eerie silence fell on the room, broken only by Luna’s sobs. Harry set the globe quickly on the end of Dean’s bed and hurried to Draco’s side. Hermione was kneeling beside him, her fingers still on his cheek in the end of a scent-touch. “He smiled at me,” she said quietly. “I think he’ll be all right. What was that?”

“A snake,” said Luna unsteadily from across the room. She was staring at Draco. “It was a black and red snake, and it came out of that thing.” She pointed at the wrapped globe. “It had its coils all around him, and it was about to crush him and eat him. And he was going to let it.” The loathing was audible in her voice. “But then he saw me and he started to fight it. It was trying to crush him when he was screaming. He was fighting against it. That’s why it hurt him.”

“Is it still there?” asked Harry urgently.

Luna shook her head. “There’s still a shadow,” she said. “But I don’t see any snake.”

“Let me see if he’s all right,” said Meghan, standing up. “Harry, move over?”

Harry stood up and moved back onto the bed behind him, which was his own, and Meghan stepped into his place, kneeling down beside him. She reached towards Draco’s face –

“Meghan, NO!” screamed Luna, but it was too late. Without making a sound, Meghan collapsed over Draco, her hand still resting on his cheek.

“Get her off, get her off!” Luna shrieked. “The snake, it’s still there, it’s trying to hurt her, get her away from him! ”

Harry leaned down and grabbed his little sister around the waist, thankful beyond words that she was so small for her age. Hermione lifted from the other side, and together they got Meghan up and onto the bed with Harry. Within a second or two, Neville was there, staring intently into Meghan’s face, checking her pulse at her wrist, holding his other hand over her mouth to see if she was breathing.

Luna had her face buried in Ginny’s shoulder. “I don’t want to see any more,” she was sobbing. “I don’t want to see. Don’t make me look at it any more, please, don’t make me.”

“She’s alive,” said Neville, looking up. “But she doesn’t look good.” He glanced over his shoulder at the red-wrapped globe, a look of pure hatred.

“But it didn’t hurt me,” said Hermione, staring down at Draco. “I touched him, and nothing hurt me.”

Harry wanted to hide under his bed and never come out again, all the more because he knew what was about to happen. In a moment, everyone would be looking at him, and they would all want to know what they should do next. And they would expect him to know, because he was the alpha – because he was the leader –

“What’s going on in here?” asked a voice from the door.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. Moony had come. Everything would be all right.

“Draco’s hurt,” he said. “And Meghan – we don’t know why, but it seemed to come from that globe Draco got for Christmas...”

“Is this it?” Moony pointed to the red bundle on the end of the bed.

Several people nodded. “It was shooting lightning all over him,” said Ginny. “And Luna says she saw a snake coming out of it, trying to crush him.”

“Meghan collapsed when she touched him,” said Hermione. “Luna saw the snake on her too.”

“Luna?” Moony knelt beside her and touched her arm gently. “How are you feeling?”

She looked up at him. “I want my daddy,” she said tearfully.

“I’m not surprised. Danger’s going to get him right now. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Luna shook her head.

“Good.” Moony stood up. “Hermione, come out of there.”

“But I touched him already!” Hermione objected. “I scent-touched him right after I knocked the globe out of his hands, and nothing bad happened to me then!”

“I meant, please move so I can see him,” said Moony calmly.

“Oh.” Hermione climbed back onto Draco’s bed, and Moony knelt where she had been, pointing his wand first at himself, then at Draco.

When he stood up, his face was grave. “Draco is under a curse,” he said. “No one is to touch him until we can figure out what exactly its parameters are, who it will and won’t attack.” He conjured a stretcher and lifted Draco from the floor. “I’d also ask you to please stay in the Tower for right now. We might need to find you in a hurry.”

“What about Meghan?” said Neville, looking up from her.

Moony twitched his wand. Another stretcher appeared, and Neville laid Meghan gently on it. “I want to stay with her,” he said, facing Moony squarely. “Until you know what’s wrong with her.”

“Very well.” Moony looked once more around the room. “We’ll tell you as soon as we know anything,” he said, then directed the two stretchers out the door in front of him, pausing almost as an afterthought to pick up the bundle containing the globe and hand it to Neville. Ron stepped into the room from the landing and shut the door behind them.

Hermione stared at the door. “What’s going to happen to him?” she whispered. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” said Ron, sitting down on Draco’s bed beside her. “Professor Lupin said it was a curse, but I never saw a curse do that.” He grimaced. “Not that I saw much. What happened?”

“More of the same,” said Harry, swallowing against a feeling of dread. “He was screaming, there was lightning all over him, then Hermione knocked it out of his hands and it all stopped.”

“But when Meghan touched him, it got her too,” said Ginny, still holding Luna. “She just fell over, like someone had Stunned her.”

Hermione’s breathing was harsh and ragged. Awkwardly, Ron put an arm around her, and she leaned against him, beginning to cry into his shoulder. Harry climbed across the beds and sat on Hermione’s other side, putting a hand on her back, holding onto his own emotions tightly. One crying alpha was all the Pride needed at this point.

Feet pounded on the stairs, and the door slammed open. “Luna!”

“Daddy!” Luna catapulted to her feet and dashed into her father’s arms. “Daddy, I don’t want to see anymore. I don’t want to. I don’t want to see things anymore. Make it stop. Please, make it stop.”

Mr. Lovegood held Luna tightly. “It’ll be all right now,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’ll be all right. Daddy’s here. We’ll get it all worked out, you’ll see. Everything will be all right. Come on.” Soothing and cajoling her by turns, he led her out of the room and down the stairs.

Danger stepped into the room and looked at each of them, her eyes grave. Hermione let Ron go and ran to her sister, throwing her arms around Danger and holding on hard. “Oh, love,” Danger murmured over Hermione’s sobs. “Oh, little love. Hush now. It’ll all be over soon, and we’ll be laughing at how silly we acted. You’ll see.”

Ron was sitting with Ginny now, talking quietly to her. Harry saw with a shock that tears were sparkling on her cheeks, and more were spilling from her eyes even as he watched. Ginny never cried.

He looked back at Danger. She was still holding Hermione, but with only one arm – her other one was free, and she was looking at him, beckoning to him –

He crossed to her and hugged her, her and Hermione both, hard. “What’s going on?” he asked, knowing she would know.

“They’re both all right for the moment,” said Danger, carefully aiming her words both at the Weasleys off to one side and at the bushy head buried against her chest. “Madam Pomfrey’s been examining them, and she says they’re not hurt, simply unconscious. Aletha’s on her way here with a Healer, a specialist in curses, and Sirius will come as soon as he can get away. Remus is seeing what he can make of the globe.”

“A suncatcher,” muttered Ron. “A really ugly one. And then give it to Snape, he never sees the sun anyway.”

Ginny and Harry laughed weakly, and Hermione turned partway around and gave Ron a watery smile. Danger gave him a thumbs-up. “I suggest you four stay nearby,” she said. “You’re excused from the remainder of your Potions class this afternoon. Why did you leave, by the way?”

Harry shrugged. “We wanted to help,” he said. “I thought I might have been able to explain things to Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore. And the pendants weren’t cooling off the way they should have if things were going all right. They just kept getting hotter. What was that note?”

“Didn’t you read it?”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t have time. Snape saw me before I’d opened it.”

“It was addressed to you, from Draco,” said Danger. “It told you not to mention the bird he’d sent you to anyone, that he knew it was cheating, but it got you what you wanted. Draco admitted he’d written it, but he said it wasn’t about the test today, and he wouldn’t tell us why or when he did write it. Can you?”

A lump of ice seemed to form in Harry’s throat. “Is he in trouble?” he said around it.

“He won’t be, if you can confirm he hasn’t cheated on any schoolwork. Harry, this is very important – please, if you know anything, tell me...”

“It’s the Quidditch Cup,” Hermione said into Danger’s robes.

The ice slid down Harry’s throat and into his stomach. Ron and Ginny were both staring at Hermione. “I beg your pardon?” said Danger, letting her sister go.

“Draco saw Higgs going after the Snitch and sent a parchment bird to point it out to Harry,” said Hermione chokily, scrubbing at her cheeks with her sleeve. “He was afraid Harry might not see in time. And then he was afraid it would be cheating, so he wrote that note. Someone must have picked it up after Harry read it.”

Danger frowned. “I don’t know about this,” she said, her eyes shading rapidly more blue. “Give me a minute.” She shut her eyes and leaned against the wall.

“Nice going,” Harry hissed at Hermione.

“Someone had to tell them! Draco could have been expelled if they’d thought he was cheating in class!”

“We’re going to lose the Cup, Hermione!”

“No, you’re not,” said Danger, opening her eyes, which whirled and drained back to brown. “Draco’s a member of the team, even if he wasn’t playing that day. The rules state that team members may give advice to one another, spoken or unspoken. So strictly speaking, what he did was legal, but I wouldn’t advise trying it again. Or noising it around that it happened this time.”

“But you’ve got to tell Snape that’s what happened, don’t you?” asked Ginny. “Because he thought Draco was cheating in his class. You’ll have to tell him where he was cheating – or thought he was cheating – and that’s as good as telling the whole of Slytherin House. They’re bound to make a fuss.”

“A fuss?” said Ron in amazement. “They’ll demand a rematch!”

“Bring it on,” said Harry. “We can beat them any day.”

“Nothing of the sort will happen,” said Danger firmly. “Gryffindor won the match, and the Cup, fairly. End of story. Now, you all seem fully recovered, so I should go. If you wait down by the fire, we’ll send you word as soon as there’s any news.” She gave Hermione another hug, embraced Harry quickly, and nodded to Ron and Ginny before opening the door and starting down the dormitory stairs.

Ron scowled. “I hate waiting,” he said. “Why do we have to stay here, anyway?”

“So we’re not underfoot,” said Ginny. “There’s nothing we can do. None of us are Healers. Except Meghan, and she needs a Healer herself right now. So we wait.”

“I still feel like we should be there,” said Ron. “Maybe we could find another miracle cure.” He waved an imaginary wand. “Cursus Removus! ”

“I wish you could,” said Hermione. “I think I’d kiss anyone who could help Draco.”

Ron turned away, his ears going red.

“I just wish there was some way we could know what was going on,” said Harry, sitting down on the nearest bed. “Without having to sit here and wait until somebody remembers us and throws us a few scraps.”

“You mean, like a place we could go and listen to what’s going on in the hospital wing,” said Ginny. “Without anyone seeing us, or knowing we were there.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe a place with a direct connection to the hospital wing, so we wouldn’t have to use any magic to hear.”

“Right.”

“And a place where we could be comfortable, but still be in easy reach of the common room if one of your parents starts coming back.”

“Exactly.”

“Just say it, already,” said Ron. “You’ve obviously got something in mind.”

“The Den. The Hogwarts Den. The library.”

Hermione’s eyes brightened. “Of course! It has the slide to the hospital wing – but we don’t have to open it all the way, just enough to let some sound come through! And then we can hear what’s going on, and if one of them leaves to come and get us for something, we can be back in the common room before they get here! That’s perfect!”

“You’re brilliant, Ginny,” said Harry, grinning at her.

She blushed. “Thanks.”

xXxXx

Luna cried herself to sleep in her father’s arms. She wasn’t surprised, when she opened her eyes, to find herself in a misty place, facing a dark-haired woman dressed in blue. “Hello, Brenna,” she said.

“Hello, Luna.” Brenna Ravenclaw inclined her head. “Was there something you wanted?”

“There’s something I don’t want,” corrected Luna. “I don’t want to see anymore. I don’t want to see what other people don’t.”

“Are you sure? It’s a useful talent. You might help people with it.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want it anymore. I want you to take it away.”

“I can’t do that,” said Brenna. “Only you can. And it will cost you another of your jewels to do it.”

Luna looked at her pendants. She had spent one Ravenclaw jewel making the Pride able to talk to each other, the night the boys had got rid of Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback. Another jewel gone would leave her with one Ravenclaw and one Gryffindor. “Done,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Are you sure? This can’t be undone without using up your last jewel. And once they’re gone, they’re gone. You won’t get any more.”

“I’m sure. Please, tell me how.”

Brenna sighed. “Hold the jewel between your fingers, think hard about what you want to do, and say ‘Nolo videre novi .’ That will take it away. If you ever want to get it back, say ‘Volo videre novi .’ But if you do that, you will never be able to reverse it again. Are you sure you want to do it now?”

“Yes. Very sure.” Luna took the gem in her hand. “Nolo videre novi, ” she said precisely, and the gem flared with blue light, then subsided.

“So it is done,” said Brenna quietly. “I wish you joy of it.”

“Thank you.” Luna turned away, and the scene faded.

xXxXx

Alone, Brenna sat down. “I’m sorry, Alex,” she said as the mist blew away to reveal a sunny day on the grounds of the Founders’ Castle. “I did what I could.”

“It’s all right.” Alex stood up from where he’d been lurking in the bushes. “I didn’t think you were actually going to be able to persuade her. Not after what she saw today. She’ll need to grow up some more before she figures out that being able to see things like that is worth a little pain and fear sometimes.”

Brenna tilted her head, regarding Alex. “You really care about them, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“The Pack. And the Pride.”

“No, of course not.”

“Don’t lie to me, Alexander, you’re no good at it.”

Alex grumbled deep in his throat. “Yes.”

“And you’re mad about Rick’s ban that he put on you when he found out what you did over the summer.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re trying to find ways to get around it.”

“How many times do I have to say it – yes!”

Brenna laughed. “Don’t worry too much,” she said. “They always seem to get out of things somehow, those people.”

“How they’ll manage this time, I haven’t a clue,” grumbled Alex. “Without even a decent warning...”

“You watch,” said Brenna in satisfaction, arranging herself to do just that.

xXxXx

Aletha wished heartily that she could have had an hour or two to herself and the use of some of the school’s Quidditch equipment. It would have done her good to go out for a fly and smack a Bludger to hell and back. The best part, of course, would have been imagining Lucius Malfoy’s sneering face on the black ball just before she slammed her bat into it.

But she couldn’t just go gallivanting off because she felt like it. Two of her cubs had been struck down by a curse, and she had to help them. And in this case, helping them meant coming to the school as quickly as possible, staying nearby, and bringing a Healer who specialized in curse damage with her.

Though she would have given almost anything if the most qualified Healer of curse damage on call at the moment hadn’t happened to be Healer Albertus Young.

“Can I see the object?” Healer Young asked, and Remus pushed the glass globe across the table, careful not to touch it with his bare skin. The older wizard peered at it, looking at the runes incised deep into the surface, nodding to himself. “Have you been able to get a reading on these?” he asked. “What they are, and some possible meanings?”

“Yes.” Remus sounded very controlled, which, Aletha knew, meant he was furious. “Here it is.” He handed across a scroll.

Healer Young began to scan it. “Blood,” he muttered. “Secrecy, obsession, compulsion... power, strength, pride... draining, stillness, and...” He looked up. “This is quite a complicated curse, the most complicated I’ve seen in a while. I’ll need a few minutes to get it worked out entirely.”

“Of course,” said Remus.

Healer Young took the scroll off to a corner and walked up and down, mumbling to himself, making jabs at the air with his wand. From time to time, he would tap it on the parchment.

“What else did you see?” Aletha asked Remus quietly.

Remus turned the globe over. “Look carefully, right here,” he said, pointing at a corner inside one of the runes. “Do you see it?”

Aletha squinted. “I think so. It’s a sharp edge, but hidden inside that smoother edge there. How could you do something like that, and why would you want to? How, of course, I know, with magic, but why?”

“To draw blood,” said Remus. “I think blood may be necessary for the final stage of the curse. There’s certainly the rune for blood on there. And Poppy said Draco had a small cut on his finger. Perhaps he’d reached some critical point this afternoon – maybe it was even triggered by emotion. But that’s just guesswork.”

One of the double doors swung open. Danger closed it behind her and hurried over to sit at the table. “Do we know anything yet?” she asked, looking at Healer Young.

“No, nothing,” said Aletha. “Except that Poppy says they seem to be all right for the moment.”

“Unfortunately, ‘seems like’ and ‘is’ are two completely different things,” said Danger. “We still don’t know anything about this curse. Except what’s on there.” She indicated the parchment Healer Young was holding. “And what we’ve heard. And we could drive ourselves up the wall trying to figure it out, so let’s just wait.”

“Except that waiting seems to be driving us up the wall just as effectively,” said Aletha, trying a smile and stopping halfway through as she realized it wasn’t working. God, I wish Sirius was here.

Remus reached across the table and pressed her hand. “We’ll get through this,” he said. “It’s not our first hard time.”

xXxXx

Neville sat beside Meghan, holding her hand. He’d heard that great disasters often made people understand things about themselves, or admit them, but he had never thought it would happen to him.

But no one ever thinks it will happen to them, until it does.

And it had. Seeing Meghan collapse that way, obviously not by her choice the way her Healing trance had been last year, had felt like having a large icicle nailed into his chest, and he had realized what had happened to him.

I love her.

It should have been so obvious. Everyone had assumed it. His gran had been disapproving of their close friendship for just that reason. His parents seemed to understand that he didn’t want to talk about love – love was something that happened to old people, people in their late teens and even (horrors) early twenties. It was mushy and sappy and stupid, and he didn’t want anything to do with it.

But loving Meghan didn’t seem mushy or sappy at all. It seemed as normal as breathing, and it was sometimes hard for him to remember that until he’d started Hogwarts, he hadn’t known she existed, and that for his first year, they had communicated only in letters.

She doesn’t expect me to be great. She just wants me to be me. But she won’t settle for anything less than the best me there is.

He smiled, looking down at her. I think I just defined love.

The old Healer had come to look at her, and given him a look that clearly said “teenage boys have no place being by the bedside of not-even-teenage girls who aren’t their sisters or cousins.” Neville didn’t care. He was used to that look by now.

But knowing I love her doesn’t really change anything, does it? We were already good friends. Now I just know that there might someday be something else, if we both feel the same about it when we grow up. And didn’t Dad tell me over the holidays that the best person to marry is your best friend? The memory of his father talking with him, like normal fathers and sons did, still made him beam.

I think Dad knows. And Mum. They smile, sometimes, when they see us together. But it’s not a nasty, “I know what you’re doing” smile. It’s a “You go on, you’re doing fine” smile. I wonder if they were friends like us before they fell in love?

But there would be time to think about his parents later. Right now, Meghan was unconscious. And if Neville knew her, she would be furious over every minute she had spent that way, especially with Draco hurt. Even if she couldn’t use her Ravenclaw talents on him, she could still watch the Healer treat him, and find out what exactly were the treatments for exposure to a curse like this.

So maybe I can help her wake up faster. Like everybody else did for us, when we were asleep after healing Mum and Dad. It won’t be quite like that, because there’s only me to take the load from her, but I can cut it in half. That’ll be something.

He eased Meghan over in the bed and lay down beside her, pulling out his pendant chain. Carefully, he draped it over her head as well, then laid his arm over her so that he could hold her hand.

I want to share my energy with Meghan, he thought carefully. I want to share the time she has to spend asleep. Let her have half of what I have, please, and please do it right away. He knew there was a more formal phrase, but he didn’t want to demand anything. Asking politely had always worked for him.

A kind and worthy request, said a woman’s voice in pleased tones. Granted, grandson, and gladly so.

Neville fell asleep before he had quite worked out who was talking to him.

xXxXx

Healer Young lowered the parchment and approached the table. Aletha looked at his face, and was suddenly struck by how old he was. She knew that he’d been working at St. Mungo’s for over seventy years, but it hadn’t really struck her just how very old that made him.

“I believe I understand the workings of this curse,” he said, sitting down. “It seems to be designed to do several things simultaneously. Its first function is to ensure that it has come to the proper recipient, a pureblood teenage boy.”

“It can tell he’s pureblood?” asked Danger in confusion. “I thought that didn’t matter to how good your magic was.”

“It has nothing to do with how good , as you say, his magic is,” said Healer Young, sounding very like a teacher rebuking a slow student. “The blood divisions of pureblood, half-blood, and Muggleborn are discernable by magic, but they mean nothing to the quality or quantity of magic possessed by any one individual.”

“It’s like... oh, say, color,” said Aletha quickly, since Danger still looked confused and Remus didn’t seem much better off. “If you have two chairs, and one is shabby and beaten up and one is strong and sturdy, one could be red and the other blue, or one blue and the other yellow. It wouldn’t change how strong they are. Blood status is like color – discernable, but it doesn’t make any difference to the structure.”

“Indeed.” Aletha might be imagining it, but she thought Healer Young sounded faintly impressed. “Once it had determined that it had come to the proper person, it began to conceal itself, by making its owner hide it, forget to talk to people about it, not want to show it to anyone.”

“Probably means Draco never wrote that thank you note,” said Danger. She had stopped off on her way to the hospital wing in Minerva’s office to use the Floo there for a private firecall to Tonks, confirming what she’d already suspected, that the Auror-trainee hadn’t sent Draco a Christmas present and had never seen or heard of the globe before in her life. “To the person who was supposed to have given it to him,” she added for the Healer’s benefit.

“Yes. After its secrecy was thus assured, it made itself indispensable by creating feelings of well-being in its owner, then, under cover of those feelings, began to insinuate a complicated message into his mind. It began with great pride in his appearance, progressed to pride in his blood ties and the traits common to that bloodline, and culminated in the wish to cultivate blood ties, especially close ones, to the exclusion of all other ties.”

“Also makes sense,” said Remus with a weary sigh. “You know who he is, and who he was, I presume.”

“And who his father is.” Healer Young nodded. “In my turn, I presume that you believe his father sent him this item, and the curse embedded in it.”

“I can’t think of anyone else who would have done it,” said Aletha, after rejecting at least three ways to say this which were far less diplomatic.

“It makes a great deal of sense out of an otherwise senseless attack on a teenager. The final stage of the curse is blood-dependent, as I believe you had already concluded,” he said to Remus. “Once the owner of the item had accepted its message, the sharp edge would emerge and shed his blood, beginning the final stage of the curse. To put it in layman’s terms, this item had a personality of its own. Had your son been as accepting of its message as he seemed to be when the final stage was invoked, that personality would have taken hold and overridden his own.”

Someone swore under their breath.

“But he wasn’t,” said Remus, with a note of triumph in his voice. “He fought.”

“Yes.” Healer Young sighed. “He fought.”

Something’s wrong. “Was there provision made in the curse for his fighting it?” asked Aletha, although she suspected she knew the answer already, and that she wouldn’t like it.

“Yes. And not a pretty one. The personality embedded in the object, as I said, attempted to overtake him, and might have succeeded had the object not been forcibly removed from contact with him. Once that had occurred, though, the curse’s final set of instructions took effect. Should the personality fail utterly in its attempts to conquer, the curse begins to shut down its victim’s body, beginning with simple unconsciousness, but proceeding quickly to coma and from there...”

A choked gasp was audible. “No,” whispered Danger, staring at him. “No, you can’t mean this.”

“The process, once begun, is irreversible.” Healer Young met their eyes with composure forged over seventy years and, Aletha suddenly knew, far too many deaths. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s so like him,” said Remus quietly. “If he can’t have Draco, no one can.”

Aletha forced her tears away for a moment. She couldn’t break down yet. There was another person depending on her. “What about Meghan?”

Healer Young gave her a small smile. “I’m glad you asked. The curse was able to strike at her due to a blood tie, I would assume – how closely are they related?”

“Second cousins.”

“As I thought. That relationship is just close enough to allow the curse to harm her somewhat, but not to allow for any serious degree of harm. She has been rendered unconscious only, and should awaken within a few hours, unhurt.”

“Good,” said Danger, blinking fast and angrily to clear her eyes. “One is enough to lose to an idiot like Lucius Malfoy. I’m going to find him, and when I get through with him, there won’t be enough left even to identify magically.”

“No, you’re not,” said Remus roughly. “Not before I get my turn.”

“Leave enough for Sirius and me,” said Aletha, finding a smile coming to her lips now, of all times, in this awful situation. “We’ll want a few licks before the end. And I don’t think the cubs are just going to sit there and let us have all the fun, either.”

“Hell, no,” someone muttered.

Remus nodded once in agreement, then looked at Healer Young. “How quickly is quickly?” he inquired, the utter control smoothing his voice again. A stranger would have thought he was asking about when something he had ordered in a shop would come in. “How long do we have?”

Healer Young looked over his shoulder and pointed his wand at Draco, murmuring something. After a moment, he turned back to Remus. “Minutes,” he said. “I can’t be any more specific than that, I’m sorry.”

Without a word, Remus stood and went to Draco’s bedside, kneeling down beside his Pack-son. He took one of the boy’s hands in his own and bowed his head over it. Aletha turned away as she saw his shoulders begin to shake, but the expression on Danger’s face wasn’t much better – her friend looked lost, lost and frightened, as though hope had left her for good, and the sniffling reaching her ears wasn’t helping either. Carefully, Aletha stood up, helped Danger to her feet, and led her to the bedside.

She should have a chance to say goodbye...

Even thinking the word almost choked her. As Danger, too, slowly knelt beside the bed, Aletha looked down at Draco’s still form, hating it as she did but knowing she’d hate herself even more in the future if she didn’t.

The future. He’ll never have one. And ours will be so much poorer without him.

She bit her lip hard, pressed on the corners of her eyes, and made herself look at her Pack-son, really look at him, as if it was the last time she’d see him.

It is. The last time you’ll see him alive, anyway.

Patience with the negative side of her mind evaporated. Will you just SHUT UP?

Wisely, it did so, and Aletha finally got her look at Draco. He could have been sleeping, except that Aletha knew from years of den-nights that he usually slept curled up on his side. It seemed unnatural to see him lying flat on his back. A slight smile lingered on his face, and the ring and little fingers on his right hand were curled under, with the thumb holding them there, giving him the look of a priest about to administer a blessing. His hair was spread across the pillow.

It’s getting a little long. We’ll have to get him a haircut soon...

She exhaled softly. All right, stupid optimism is not an improvement.

Gently, she stroked a wayward strand of hair out of Draco’s eyes, then let her hand linger on his forehead. His skin wasn’t as smooth as it had been in previous years – he was growing up, she reminded herself, as they all were –

But his growing ends here. He’ll be thirteen to us forever, and we’ll never know how much of the way he’s been acting these last few months was him and how much was the damned curse...

She bent and kissed his cheek, then scent-touched him. “I love you, Draco Regulus Black,” she said quietly. “I always have, from the first moment I saw you at Malfoy Manor. I thought, ‘Now there’s a little boy I could love.’ And I was right.” She straightened up. “Goodbye,” she whispered, and turned away quickly, before the tears could fall.

Healer Young was watching her with something in his face that looked almost like amusement. Cold fury flowed through Aletha, drawing her up to her full height and setting her shoulders.

“Enjoying seeing me fail?” she asked spitefully, drawing closer to him in three precise steps. “When I succeeded so well with other cases?”

“I’m sorry you think that of me.” His level tone destroyed what she had been thinking of as a very righteous anger. “I know I wasn’t as polite as I should have been over the Longbottom cases. I am terribly sorry about that, and I was actually hoping to offer you, as little as you may care to accept it, sympathy.”

Aletha looked at the floor, heartily ashamed. “Thank you,” she said, barely audible even to herself.

“I know what it’s like, Mrs. Freeman-Black.”

Aletha looked up at him again, surprised that he hadn’t called her by her title as he always had before.

But that was Healer to Healer. This is human to human.

“I know what it’s like to be able to save lives, all the lives you want. Except the one that really matters.”

And for just a moment, pain showed in his eyes, pain that bore a close resemblance to the anguish tearing her heart to pieces at the moment.

Of course, he’s been a Healer for all those years, he must have had so many patients die even he’s lost count –

But she knew deep inside her that he hadn’t, that he could probably tell her precisely how many patients had died under his care, and certainly how many had died because of it, because of some mistake he’d made.

And a man of his age has to have lost people – friends, family members – possibly even a child of his own...

“Tell me something,” she said, to drown out the quiet weeping she was beginning to hear from behind her. “If this... was treatable. There have to be curses like this that don’t end this way. How would you treat it?”

“Well, the best way is to transfer it.” Healer Young led her to the table, where they sat down. “Another person is found, willing to suffer the effects of the curse, and fitting the original description of the person the curse was laid on. Most curses are laid only very generally, so a member of the family or a close friend is usually willing and able to take the transfer. This curse, though – specifically targeted to a pureblood teenage boy – although he has a brother of the same age, does he not?”

“Half-blood,” said Aletha bleakly. “Harry’s mother was Muggleborn.”

“I see. Well, perhaps a friend would have been willing. After the curse was transferred, the original victim would recover almost immediately, and the new victim – the transferee – would recover more slowly, as the curse tried to take effect and failed. Once curses are established, you see, they are only truly effective on that one person. A transferred curse invariably fails, and the transference is accomplished by a simple spell.”

“But it only works with curses that don’t have this as their end result,” said Aletha bitterly, looking at the bed with her two best friends kneeling beside it, racked with grief.

“That’s correct.”

There had to be some kind of strange acoustic quality to the hospital wing, Aletha decided. There was no other way she could account for hearing crying coming from two different places – one beside Draco’s bed, and the other somewhere in the vicinity of the fireplace...

She rested her head in her hands, knowing she was about to lose her battle with tears and not caring.

God, Sirius, where are you when I need you?

xXxXx

“Will that be all, sir?” Sirius asked in a monotone for the tenth time. He’d finally told his pendants to leave him alone, since his neck and chest were starting to show signs of first-degree burns.

I know, I know, I know. I shouldn’t be here. I should be at Hogwarts, helping them deal with whatever just happened – Danger said it was a curse, and something about Tonks’ Christmas present, but Tonks wouldn’t curse Draco, would she?

“No, I need a few more scrolls.” Calmly, Rufus Scrimgeour ran his quill down a list. “Let’s see now... I’ll need the Vampire-Human Agreement of 1672 and the list of amendments, the Decree on the Growing of Magical Plants from 1974, and the arrest reports from last April...”

Sirius slammed his fist down on Scrimgeour’s desk. The older Auror didn’t even flinch. “With all due respect, sir, this is ridiculous,” he said tightly. “This is work for a secretary, not an Auror.”

“The work of an Auror is whatever I say it is, Black. Now run along.”

“No, sir, I will not run along.” Sirius stared into Scrimgeour’s yellow eyes. “What do you have against me? You’ve been hostile towards me since the day I took my tests, you’ve been watching me ever since you got back from St. Mungo’s, and now you’re deliberately keeping me from a family emergency to play your stupid little parchment treasure hunt. What did I ever do to you?”

“You made my Aurors look ridiculous,” said Scrimgeour, matching him glare for glare. “A criminal evading capture for nearly nine years, that certainly boosted our image with the public. Not to mention that stunt you pulled at your trial. Having your famous godson produce the true criminal in front of the entire Wizengamot – very pat, I thought. Very smooth. A little too smooth.”

“What are you saying?”

“How do I know you didn’t have Pettigrew tucked away all those years, ready to trot out at a moment’s notice as evidence of your innocence?”

Sirius kept his mouth closed by a major effort of will. “Why wouldn’t I have turned him in earlier, then?” he countered. “It’s not like I was in hiding for my health. Harry and the others found him just in time to save my hide, and that’s all there is to it.”

“So you say. But I still find it hard to accept you as a shining soldier of the light.”

“I never claimed to be one. I’m just an Auror, like any other, doing my part to keep the world safe.” Sirius threw some dopey three-bags-full inflections into the last phrase. “Will that be all, sir?”

“No, Black, it won’t. If we’re going to have this out, we might as well have it all out at once.” Scrimgeour stood up. “I’m also highly suspicious of your tests falling on the day that Lars Vilias was killed and Amelia Bones and I were poisoned.”

“Oh, for...” Sirius censored himself quickly, just in case his career still had a faint chance of continuing. “...crying out loud. That was a coincidence! ”

“There are no coincidences in our line of work, Black.”

“News flash, sir – yes, there are. You’ve just encountered one.” Sirius stood up himself. “I’ve had enough of this. That will be all, sir . I’m leaving.”

He turned towards the door. A memo fluttered in through the mail slot and landed in his hand. Quickly, he ripped it open. Another note was inside, this one addressed in Harry’s handwriting. He tore that open as well and scanned it.

As in a dream, he heard Scrimgeour’s furious voice. “Black! If you walk out of this office, you’ll never work as an Auror again!”

Sirius turned back. “And if I don’t, I’ll never see my child again,” he said roughly. “Not a very difficult decision to make. Have a nice life, sir. ”

He shoved the door open so hard it slammed into the opposite wall and stalked down the hallway. Within a few paces, he was running.

The note in Harry’s writing was crumpled in his right hand.

Padfoot –

Come right away. Draco’s dying.

xXxXx

“I sent it,” said Harry dully, walking back into the library. “I don’t know if it’ll get through, though. I don’t know if you can Floo things without people.”

Ron nodded. “Think you can,” he said in a voice that sounded nothing like his usual cheerful tones. “It should get there.”

Harry fell into a chair. “Anything happen?”

“Nothing yet,” said Ginny. “Except Mrs. Letha and the Healer talking. The Healer said maybe, if the curse hadn’t... you know... they could have transferred it to somebody else and saved Draco like that.”

“But they can’t.” Hermione lifted her head from her hands. Her eyes were brimming, but none of the tears had yet escaped. “They can’t do anything. And now, any minute...”

A horrid sound, half howl, half heartbroken wail, echoed down the stone chute. It was Danger’s voice, but so distorted by grief that it was barely recognizable. Hermione stared at the opening in the bookshelves, then shut her eyes as two fat tears dripped out of them. “That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s it. He’s gone.”

Ginny was kneeling beside a hassock, her head laid on it, soaking its cushions with her tears. Ron knelt next to her, his face bewildered as he put a hand gently on her back. He seemed to be trying to say something, but he obviously had no idea what.

Harry stepped closer to Hermione, hoping he wasn’t about to make an enormous mistake. As close as he and Draco had been, he knew that Draco and Hermione had been even closer, coming near to really being the twins they had pretended to be.

“Hermione,” he said. “I’m still here.”

“Right,” said Hermione furiously, looking up at him. “Because you’re the important one, is that it, Harry Potter?”

“No,” said Harry, as a lump rose in his throat. “But he was my brother too.”

Then the word he’d used came back and hit him in the chest.

Was.

Within seconds, he was holding Hermione, or she was holding him, and they were both crying. Every tear hurt, burning as it left Harry’s eyes, etching a line of fire down his face and his neck to his chest, where they puddled against the other line of fiery heat...

xXxXx

The howl was what woke him. It sounded terrible, and it was right in his ear.

“Shut up,” he said. Or tried to say.

His mouth wouldn’t move, and no sound came from him.

That’s odd.

He tried opening his eyes. That didn’t work either.

This is very odd.

Now he could hear words in the howl. “No, no, no, no, no... Draco... Draco, please no...”

Please no what? I’m not doing anything. I can’t do anything. Draco tried, experimentally, to wiggle his foot. Nothing doing.

“Remus, he can’t be... not Draco, not our fox... he can’t be dead...”

Dead? I’m not dead...

I don’t think. Whatever the globe did to me, it hurt a lot, but I don’t think I died because of it. He scoffed inwardly. No way. I can’t be dead. Danger’s just made a mistake.

“He’s not breathing, love,” said Moony’s voice, with a pain-filled edge in it that Draco had only heard once before, at the Quidditch match where Harry had so nearly died. “He’s not breathing.”

I’m not? Draco thought about it. No, I’m not. I haven’t breathed once since I woke up. And my heart’s not beating either. I’d be able to hear it. And I can’t move at all...

Icy cold fear began to trickle down the back of his neck. He tried to swallow nervously, and couldn’t do that either.

Is this what it’s like to be dead? People talk about seeing a bright light, and going on to something better, and seeing everyone you love again... but no one who’s really died has ever come back. Is that all just delusions, and this is what it’s really like?

The trickle of fear had increased to a flood. I’m dead. I’m dead, and this is all there is. No afterlife, no bright light, no happiness. Just... being stuck in a body that won’t work anymore, and listening to people cry for me...

They’ll bury me. They’ll have a funeral, and stick me in a coffin, and bury me, and I’ll rot, and stink, and turn into a skeleton, and I’ll still be stuck in here...

NO! The scream seemed to echo around the inside of his head. NO! I won’t believe it!

It was a trick, that was what it was. It was another part of what the globe had done to him – it was a hallucination, a bad dream, and he would wake up soon in a bed in the hospital wing, and be able to tell everyone about this horrible dream he’d had, and they would all laugh...

Or maybe it’s something else. His mind, free of the need to maintain his body, was running at warp speed. Maybe this is real, but it’s not normal. Isn’t this the kind of thing your father would do, if he thought you’d got away from him for good? Make you suffer like this, trapped in your own dead body forever?

He wasn’t sure when he’d realized the globe had to be from his father. Probably when it had started hurting him. Or maybe when it had tried to make him hurt Luna.

Luna. She’ll think I’m dead. She’ll cry for me. And Hermione and Harry and Meghan will cry, and Ron and Ginny and Neville, and the Pack-parents... I can still hear Moony and Danger, and Letha and Padfoot have to be around here somewhere... God, if I could only tell them I’m in here, maybe they could help me...

SOMEBODY HELP ME! he screamed inside his mind. SOMEBODY HEAR ME, PLEASE! I’M NOT DEAD! PLEASE, SOMEBODY – I’M NOT DEAD!

But he knew no one could hear him, and no one ever would.

And my pendants feel like they’re going to burn my robes right off my chest.

It was his last coherent thought before he surrendered to panic.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 19: Amoenus Somnium (Year 3)


Chapter 19: Amoenus Somnium

Remus wondered dully how empty one man could feel.

He’d mourned before – for friends lost to the first war, James and Lily, his mother and his father – but it had never been like this. There had always been some comfort. For those who had died in the war, there was the sense that they had died in a good cause, as they would have wanted to. His mother’s death had been an accident, no one’s fault, and his father’s almost a relief, a release from the constant sorrow and guilt for having survived the fire that killed his wife.

This, though – this was a deliberate killing, the murder of an innocent boy, done through trickery and stealth. There was no reason, no sense to it, except one man’s insane determination that no one else should have what he could not. And the result was the death of someone Remus loved dearly, more dearly than he loved himself or any other except two.

Draco.

My son.

Not born to him, not of his blood, but ten years his, and dearly beloved every day of those years. Sometimes provoking, sometimes maddening, but always, always his.

And now he’s gone.

The thought had created a void in his heart, into which all emotions vanished, leaving behind only pain. Danger was weeping into his chest with a quiet hopelessness that was almost worse than her earlier howls of grief. Her heart, too, ached with the void where Draco once had been, and Remus wished for a moment that he could fall into that void and cease to hurt, cease to feel – it would be so easy...

But he couldn’t. Draco had been dear to him, but there were others who needed him still. Others like Danger, and Hermione.

Hermione. God, what is she going to do without Draco?

His Kitten and their Fox had been close since the Pack’s move to Devon, when Harry had become good friends with Ron. There had been days Remus had forgotten, or let himself forget, that they weren’t what they claimed to be, that Draco was another man’s son and Hermione his wife’s sister, and looked at them with all a father’s love and pride.

He had imagined their lives as they grew older together – Draco becoming a scholar or a musician or even an Auror alongside Harry, Hermione accepting a teaching position at Hogwarts or a place in the Department of Mysteries. He had dreamed of marriages and children, raised in love as the Pack’s cubs had been, playing every day with their “cousins” and running freely from one house to the next, since he was certain they would wish to live near one another. It had become unthinkable that they could ever be parted.

But now they had been parted, irrevocably so. And Hermione didn’t even know it yet –

Remus bowed his head, his throat tightening further still, as he realized what he’d done. He’d told Harry and the others that he would tell them as soon as there was news – he’d practically promised – and then he’d forgotten about it, and now it was too late...

One broken promise led his mind to another. That night, so long ago, when he had placed a sleeping Draco between Harry and Hermione, and promised him silently that there would be a happy ending to his story. There was no possible way this ending could be described as happy. He’d failed, as a father, as an alpha, as everything.

The muscles of his back and shoulders burned with tension, and a hot, hard knot of misery had lodged itself directly under his breastbone. Danger’s weight against him seemed to be pushing it farther in, so that it hurt more with every passing second, growing until he thought he might scream –

And then someone did scream.

“GET OUT OF MY WAY! ”

xXxXx

“Hot in here,” grumbled Ron, holding Ginny against him. “Stuffy. Making my eyes water.”

“Oh, stop it,” muttered Harry. “Just go on and cry, it’s not like we aren’t.”

“He’s right, though,” said Ginny, shifting her head against Ron’s chest. “It is hot.”

“Hot,” repeated Hermione in a small, distracted voice, rubbing at her neck. “So hot – it must be from us...”

“From all of us, I guess.” Harry understood what Hermione meant. He wished he had some of Moony and Danger’s imperviousness to fire, or at least knew how to stop his pendants burning against his skin. Maybe getting them out of my robes would help.

He brought them out, letting them hang loose against his chest. Most of the carvings were glowing, but one shone brighter than the others, like a miniature star.

Whoever feels the worst over this, I guess. Though I can’t see how they could tell.

Hermione suddenly stiffened in his arms. “My God,” she breathed. “Oh my God, oh my God–”

“What?” Harry demanded as she pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione fumbled at her neck, swearing under her breath, until her pendants came free of her robes. She flipped through them frantically and stared at the brightest carving with a horrified expression, then leaped to her feet. “Move!” she shouted at Ron and Ginny, who were beside the opening in the bookshelves. “GET OUT OF MY WAY! ”

“Hermione, no, don’t–” Harry protested as Ron scrambled away from the opening, dragging Ginny with him.

Hermione darted across the room and vanished into the chute.

xXxXx

Remus jerked his head around. The scream seemed to have come from the direction of the fireplace –

Hermione?

As he watched, a section of the stone wall slid aside, and Hermione shot out of the passage thus revealed. Her face was blotchy and tear-stained, but alight with frantic haste. She ran across the room, falling to her knees on Draco’s other side, her hands already on her pendant chain.

“What are you doing?” Remus asked hoarsely. “Hermione, don’t... he’s...”

“No, he’s not,” said Hermione, yanking at her chain to make it larger. “He can’t be. He can’t.”

“Kitten, denying it won’t help–”

“I’m not denying it, it’s a fact! Feel them!” Hermione shook her pendants hard. “They’re hot! Hot, not cold! He can’t be dead!”

And before Remus could do anything to stop her, she had thrown her chain over Draco’s head and pulled it between his head and the pillow, so that it rested around his neck.

Her face screwed up, as in pain. “Draco!” she half-shouted, twitching the pendants so that the chain tightened ever so slightly. “Draco, it’s all right, it’s all right now. It’s me, it’s Neenie, yes, I’m here, I can hear you, you don’t have to yell.” Her hand sought his and held it. “Yes, yes, I know, me too – no, don’t worry, I won’t let them – I don’t have to, they understand now, they know. It’s going to be all right. I know. I know.” Tears were falling from her eyes, but her face was radiant with joy. “I figured it out just a second ago. No, not only me, everyone helped.”

Remus didn’t want to look away from what was either a miracle or his Kitten losing her mind, but he could hear noises behind him. Danger solved the problem by knuckling the tears out of her eyes and looking over his shoulder. The other three just climbed out of that hole by the fireplace, she reported. Wherever Hermione was, they were with her.

“Ron was saying how it was hot, and Ginny agreed with him and moved her face away like something was hot right against it – she was leaning on him, on his chest – and then Harry took his pendants out of his robes, and I saw your carving glowing so bright, and I realized that they ought to have been cold if you were dead, and if they were hot it meant something else was wrong...”

She’s right, said Remus, not taking his eyes from the cubs. She’s right. Hot is for distress, for anger and fear, not for death. This is some kind of trick. Draco’s alive.

Danger took one shuddering breath and let it out. That’s the best news I’ve heard in years. What do we do now?

“Move over,” said Aletha from behind them. Her face was tear-stained, but her voice brisk and businesslike, and she had her chain out already. It joined Hermione’s around Draco’s neck. “How are you feeling, love?” she asked, then smiled wryly. “I’m sure. But other than that. Are you in pain?”

Remus stood up and stepped away. You stay with him, he said. I need to get another look at that globe.

The door slammed open and Sirius charged in, looking panicked. Harry ran straight to him. “I was wrong,” he said quickly. “I was wrong, we were all wrong, I don’t know what’s happening but I think Draco’s going to be all right...”

Sirius’ shoulders sagged in relief, and he hugged Harry hard. “’Lo, Moony,” he said, looking over at Remus. “What’d I miss?”

“A hell of a scare,” said Remus. “Go see if Letha needs you. She was looking pretty shaky a minute ago, and I think she could use your help.”

Sirius nodded and hurried toward Draco’s bed, Harry beside him. Remus went to the table holding the globe, where Healer Young was still sitting, looking utterly lost. “You probably think we’re crazy,” he said conversationally.

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

Remus pulled out his own pendants. “Magical amulets,” he said. “Charmed to allow speech mind to mind when two people wear them at once. Also charmed to tell us if someone’s upset or hurt, or in danger of dying, and they were activating for the former and not the latter, if we had only noticed it.”

“Thank you,” said Healer Young, most of the confusion clearing from his face. “I’ll admit I couldn’t make heads or tails of that little goings-on.”

“Understandable. Can you show me where the runes are that led you to believe Draco was dying?”

Healer Young pointed out a group with his wand. “These three, here. You see how they’re intertwined, meaning that if one of these things happens, they’ll all happen. This one for failure, this for unconsciousness, and this for death.”

Remus looked closely at the death rune, directing a beam of wand light into it. It seemed just like all the other runes on the globe... and yet...

He held his left hand close to the globe and shone the light directly into the globe. It reflected back out, so that his hand was illuminated in patterns that looked like the lines of the rune – but there seemed to be patterns within some of the lines as well.

I think I’m onto something. Remus pulled the globe closer to himself and peered directly within the engraved lines, shining the wand light from above his head.

Deep in the recesses of the lines, so tiny they could barely be seen, were carved a series of other runes.

Lucius Malfoy, you slippery bastard. Nice try.

Grinning to himself, Remus pulled over parchment and quill. Since he wrote with his wand hand, he summoned a ball of fire to be his light, using his wand to conjure it so as not to alarm the Healer. Then he began to copy the runes, trying to strike a balance between fast and accurate.

Healer Young came to peer over his shoulder. “I’ve never seen that done before,” he said in mild surprise.

“Nor have I,” said Remus. “First time for everything.”

xXxXx

Draco had no idea how long he’d spent screaming before Hermione’s voice had pierced his panic. It had felt like hours, but he was fairly sure now that it had only been a minute or two. The moment she had called his name – not like she was grieving for someone who was lost, but like she was calling someone who was found – would probably rank high on his lifetime list of moments he never wanted to relive but was unbelievably glad had happened.

“Draco!”

His mental screams cut off instantly as he snapped back to some form of sanity. If someone was calling him, they must expect a response – but they had to know he couldn’t move or say anything, or he would have already...

“Draco, it’s all right, it’s all right now.”

He felt a twitch around his neck, a second line of heat like the first – pendant chain! – and thought hard towards the speaker. Please, whoever you are, TELL ME YOU CAN HEAR ME!

“It’s me, it’s Neenie, yes, I’m here, I can hear you, you don’t have to yell.”

Relief swamped him, drowning his fear and floating him high on its tide. If his body had worked, he would have burst into tears. Neenie, oh my God, thank you – He felt her hand close around his, an anchor into life. I was so scared, so scared, they thought I was dead –

“Yes, yes, I know, me too–”

They’re going to bury me, please, tell them not to, I’m not dead –

“No, don’t worry, I won’t let them–”

Tell them, please, tell them, I don’t want them to think I’m dead –

“I don’t have to, they understand now, they know. It’s going to be all right.”

I hate this, I hate it, thank you so much, I thought they were going to bury me alive –

“I know. I know.” He could hear her crying, but her mind’s touch was unadulterated joy.

You just saved my life, thank you, but how the hell did you know?

“I figured it out just a second ago.”

Draco sent her a mental grin. All by yourself, right?

“No, not only me, everyone helped. Ron was saying how it was hot, and Ginny agreed with him and moved her face away like something was hot right against it...”

By the time the explanation was finished, Draco was beginning to feel normal again. Oh, no, nothing else was wrong, he said dryly. I was just stuck in my dead body and couldn’t make anyone understand I was alive, nothing was wrong at all.

Idiot, she shot back mentally. Letha’s coming.

“Move over,” said Letha’s voice, and Draco felt a chain pass under his head and settle around his neck. “How are you feeling, love?” she asked.

Pretty good for a dead man.

He felt her amusement. “I’m sure. But other than that. Are you in pain?”

No, nothing hurts. I just can’t move. And it’s freaky as hell not to be breathing.

“I can imagine.”

Can you really?

“Actually... no, probably not. I’m going to run a few diagnostics on you. I’ll warn you if anything is supposed to hurt, and you tell me if anything does.”

Draco heard a door slam open. What’s that?

Padfoot just got here, said Hermione. Harry’s telling him you’re all right.

Am I? Is there any way to recover from this – whatever it is?

“There should be,” said Letha absently. “Most curses are reversible if caught early enough. Can you feel this?”

Oi ! That tickles!

“Good, it’s supposed to.”

“What’s going on?” said a deep voice.

Say hi for me, would you?

“Draco says hello,” said Hermione aloud. “The curse on him made us all think he was dead, but he’s not.”

“Going to be all right now, fox,” said Padfoot comfortingly.

Draco felt a large hand muss his hair. He growled mentally. I’d bite you if I could move.

“Now, now, no violence,” said Letha. “Everyone be quiet for a minute, I think I’ve almost got something...”

Danger wants to talk to you too, said Hermione silently. Do you mind if she puts her chain on?

I’m going to look like a jewelry festival at this rate. Why don’t you all just use mine?

That sounds like a good idea. Will you make it expand for me?

Just pull it out. Draco felt Hermione’s hand slide under his robes and extract the chain, now warm with only the warmth of body-heated metal. Grow, he told it, and heard a small chorus of giggles. What? he demanded.

There’s a lot of it now, said Hermione. He heard her moving beside him, probably handing the chain around. Probably more than we need. But it’s not so bad.

How much is there?

Let me put it this way, said Harry’s voice. You could probably talk to all of Gryffindor Tower with this thing.

Hello to you too.

You scared us pretty good there, said Ginny. It’s a good thing Luna wasn’t here.

Where is she?

Her dad’s here with her, said Harry. They went somewhere, I think a private room. She kept crying about seeing a snake on you, that it was trying to crush you and eat you. She was pretty broken up.

So she won’t know about any of this?

Not unless somebody told her. Maybe one of us should go find her and make sure she knows you’re all right.

More or less.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, said Ginny, and Draco felt her fingers flick his ear lightly. I’ll go. And I’ll try and get her to come back with me, how’s that?

No. Please don’t. Draco spoke quickly, hoping to catch Ginny before she ducked out of his chain. She won’t like it – it’ll scare her to see me like this –

If she knows you’re all right, I don’t think she’ll get scared, said Ginny. I’m going.

No–! But Ginny was already gone. Draco swore to himself.

You’re just vain, said Harry. You don’t want her to see you like this, with your hair all messed up.

Is it all messed up?

Well, just a little over there.

Over where? He heard Harry laughing. Damn it, Four-Eyes, this isn’t funny!

Your hair looks fine, said Danger’s voice soothingly. Or it will in a second. And Remus and the Healer are close to finding out what actually happened to you. I can’t make promises, but things are starting to look up, fox...

Things started to look up the second Neenie called my name.

This once, I’ll let you get away with that out of den, said Hermione, finger-combing his hair back into place.

Oh, so that’s what you have to do, said Harry. To get her to let you do things she won’t normally. Die.

Giggles erupted all around.

xXxXx

“Here’s what I found,” said Remus, placing the parchment between himself and Healer Young. “First off, there are null runes in all four corners of that death rune. It would never have worked. But then there’s this whole other series, written up and down the lines...”

“Which are for an effect I have seen before,” said Healer Young grimly. “And should have recognized this time, except I was fooled by that blasted big death sign staring me in the face. But that’s what it’s meant to do. Now this, this is the real thing. And if I’m reading it right, he’s still alive, and still in there.” He looked over his shoulder at the people surrounding Draco’s bed. “But his body’s responding, and reading to all the usual spells, as dead. If we left it, it would probably even start to counterfeit damage. Decay and the like.”

“Counterfeit?”

“That’s what this is about.” Healer Young tapped another line of runes. “This sequence here keeps his actual body in perfect condition – equivalent of a stasis spell – indefinitely. Until it’s removed. There’s a command to remove it, but it’s probably locked to one specific person.”

“Most likely the curse’s originator.” Remus nodded. “What about these?” He pointed to a third line.

“Now those are strange. Something I’ve never seen before. According to this, the curse was supposed to let him awaken as soon as the death-counterfeit began, give him three minutes of full awareness, and then knock him out again, and keep him unconscious until it was removed.”

“But he’s already been awake longer than that.”

“Yes, and there’s the other catch. The knock-out order was tailored towards his emotional state. It could only take effect if he was in a state of panic, or close to it. And when your girl did what she did – called to him, told him she knew he was alive – that must have stopped him panicking.”

Remus savored Hermione being “his girl,” even as he asked his question. “Why would it do that?”

“Offhand, I don’t know. But I have a guess. Being trapped in what seems to be a dead body, unable to communicate in any way, reads to me as a perfect template for madness. If the curse’s originator wanted your boy sane, he wouldn’t want him aware for too long. Just long enough to understand what had happened to him, and want to get out so desperately that he’d accept anyone or anything that would help him.”

“Including his blood father,” said Remus coldly, though he did notice that Young had just matched his reference to Hermione with one to Draco. It seemed the Healer had accepted the Pack’s status as a family.

And he also seems to have a problem using names for some reason...

“So, what do we do now?” he asked.

“Well, his prognosis is unknown at this point,” said Healer Young uncertainly, looking at the bed again. “I doubt he’ll recover on his own.”

“But he’s not going to die.”

“Not from the curse... but this isn’t a good situation. An active young man, suddenly confined to bed – more than that, unable to move at all, even to open his eyes – and his body’s basically shut down, he’s running on magic only at this point. It’s not a workable situation long-term.”

“Excuse me,” said a hesitant voice. Remus and Healer Young both turned to see Ron standing beside their table. “Ron Weasley, sir,” he said, offering his hand to the Healer. “I’m a friend of Draco’s.”

“Albertus Young – Weasley, eh? You have the look. Any relation to Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?”

“He’s my dad.”

“I’ve met him. A few years back now, to-do over a cursed book. Burned some poor witch’s eyes out.”

“I remember that. Dad told us about you – he said you were the best curse Healer at St. Mungo’s.”

“Did he, now.” Healer Young looked pleased. “What can I do for you, then?”

“We were listening earlier, sir,” Ron admitted. “When you and Mrs. Letha were talking about how you’d heal the curse if it wasn’t going to kill Draco. And now it isn’t. So can’t you do what you were talking about? Transfer it to somebody else?”

“I suppose we could,” said Healer Young slowly, thinking as he spoke. “Yes, we could do that. Transfer a curse to someone else, and it wears off gradually,” he said for Remus’ benefit. “The only snag is, this curse was set for a male pureblood teenager. Whoever we transferred it to would have to be the same, or it would just bounce back.”

“What would it be like, sir? For whoever took the curse, I mean?”

“I’d imagine it would be a lot like what Mr. Black’s experiencing now. He’s obviously unable to move or speak, or he would have let us know he wasn’t dead on his own. That wouldn’t last, of course, but a curse this comprehensive would be at least a month wearing off fully. That’d mean a few weeks in bed, probably not even being able to tend to yourself, and maybe a week or two where that’s all you can manage, is tending to yourself.”

“But it won’t wear off Draco like that.”

“No. On him, it’d just stay. Curses are funny that way – tenacious as bundimuns on the person they’re cast on, but swap them over and they drain right away like water off a dragon’s back...”

Young could probably go on for hours about curses, Remus thought. “Why do you ask, Ron?” he said, though he had a feeling he knew.

“I’m pureblood,” said Ron. “And I’m a couple months older than Draco, but we’re in the same year.” He seemed to nerve himself up. “What about me?”

“You?” Healer Young looked surprised. “Well, I suppose it would work – I can’t see any reason why not – you’d have to undergo an examination beforehand, but if that checked out...”

“Healer Young, I’ve got something,” said Aletha from the direction of the bed. “You may want to see this.”

Young was on his feet and crossing the room immediately. Remus looked at Ron. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “We can find another way.”

Ron shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I know Draco and I don’t always get along,” he said. “But this is wrong. It’s disgusting. It made H – everybody cry. And I’d get better from it. Draco won’t. Not on his own.” Then he grinned. “Besides, if it takes a month to recover, I’d get out of exams.”

Remus laughed, his first real laugh since this mess had started.

Not terribly difficult. Do you realize it’s only been about half an hour?

My God, you’re right. It feels like years. “Certainly a praiseworthy reason to do anything,” he told Ron. “We’ll need to talk to your parents, of course, but as long as they agree, I’m with Healer Young – I don’t see why not.” Are you keeping track of this?

You bet. But I’m not telling Draco. Not until we have something definite.

Good idea. False hope at this stage would be very bad.

Speaking of hope, a certain fox was hoping you could be tempted over here at some point.

On my way. “I’m going over to say hello to Draco,” Remus said. “Care to come?”

“Sure. Should I tell him?”

“Not yet. Not until we know for certain.”

Ron nodded and followed Remus to the bedside.

“Excellent work,” said Healer Young to Aletha as they approached. “Magical confirmation of what I’d worked out from the cursed object with Professor Lupin’s help – a stasis spell counterfeiting death, and the soul still inhabiting the body. You’re really rather talented.”

“It helps to know exactly what I’m looking for.” Aletha looked up at Remus and Ron. “Hello, there, come to get in on the party?”

“You could say that. Are we welcome?”

“Very much so,” said Danger, holding out a loop of the immense gold chain that circled everyone’s shoulders. “Come on in.”

Remus slid the chain over his shoulders. Hello, fox, how are you feeling? he asked.

Alive, thank you. And hoping to stay that way.

Sounds like a plan. Remus reached down and pressed Draco’s hand briefly. It was cold and limp, but he knew that was the spell working. We’re doing our best.

But I have to go somewhere to make it happen, said Danger. Excuse me a few minutes, Draco? I’ll be back.

Sure. Didn’t want you here anyway.

Fine, I won’t be back.

Suit yourself.

“You don’t even stop being smart when you’re dead,” said Ron in amazement. “I guess some people really never change.”

Who asked you?

Danger kissed Remus on the cheek and slipped out of the room.

xXxXx

Ah, the things we get to tell our neighbors. Let’s see.

First, there was “One of us is a mass murderer, but not really.” Then we had “One of us is a werewolf.” After that came “Your children are risking their lives with ours.” Then was “One of our children is risking his life for yours.” And now we have “One of your children wants to die – but not permanently – to get one of ours out of the same condition.”

Why can’t we just complain about their pets getting into our garden like normal people?

Danger Flooed to the Burrow, where she was lucky enough to catch Molly just coming in from marketing. The Weasley matriarch heard her out with only a few exclamations, most of them directed against the person who had sent the cursed globe to Draco. She was properly horrified by what it had done to him and looked quite proud, if a little worried, when Danger revealed that Ron had volunteered to take the curse on himself. “You’re sure he wouldn’t be hurt?” she asked. “That it won’t harm him any?”

“I’m not sure of anything, but that’s what the Healer says.”

“Well, I’ll want to ask Arthur – can you wait a minute or two?”

“Of course.”

Molly returned a very few minutes later, looking satisfied. “He says it’s all right,” she said. “Apparently he’s seen curse transference done before, and he says there’s no risk whatsoever that it would take permanent effect on Ron. So the worst that will happen is he spends some time in bed. Maybe it’ll slow his growth – I swear, the boy is a weed, every time I turn around he’s an inch taller...”

“It gets worse, I hear,” said Danger sympathetically. “Just remember, whatever Ron puts you through, we get double from our two.”

“And worse, I’m sure. But I’m used to it by now. Go on, back to the school with you, the faster you go the faster this is over with.” Molly shooed her towards the fireplace. “I’ll be by as soon as I have supper started, an hour or less, I’d guess.”

Danger Flooed directly back to the hospital wing, and stumbled out of the fireplace on the end of a burst of laughter. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting on or near Draco’s bed, the chain around their necks, laughing with abandon. Sirius and Aletha were nowhere to be seen.

They’re with Meghan. Neville seems to have done their little sharing trick again, so both of them are asleep at the moment, and Sirius and Letha are sitting with them. And probably getting rid of some tension.

Crying their eyes out with relief, you mean.

Why, yes. Remus stood up from his seat at the corner table, where Healer Young was working on something on a piece of parchment. He’s getting the transference spell ready. I told him it was good news. And no, I didn’t eavesdrop. But the tone of your mind went about five notes higher and several shades brighter when – I assume – Molly told you this was all right with her.

Her and Arthur both. She hopes it’ll slow Ron’s growth to be dead for a while.

Remus laughed aloud. It might indeed do that. Oh, have you noticed who’s not here?

Yes, where’s Luna?

She fell asleep after that little crying fit up in the Tower, and no one wanted to wake her. Gerald promised to tell her that Draco’s all right as soon as she wakes up.

If we get right to this, she might be able to see it for herself.

Then let’s get to it.

They walked over to the bed, waited out another burst of laughter, then ducked under the chain together. “We’re back,” said Remus.

Oh, no, not you again, said Draco. Bouncers, remove the undesirables.

“Yes, sir!” chorused Harry and Ron, as Hermione and Ginny giggled. “Right away, sir!”

They’re not moving, are they?

“No,” said Hermione, still giggling. “Not at all.”

Story of my life. No one listens to me.

“What did Mum say?” Ron asked.

“She said yes,” said Danger. “Do you want to tell everyone, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” Ron faced his friends and squared his shoulders. “Draco, you know how we were talking about how to get the curse off you. And the best way was to put it on somebody else, but it has to be a pureblood teenage boy or it won’t take. And you said it was a shame Neville was asleep, since you could talk him into anything.”

Merlin’s beard, Ron, I was kidding.

“I know. But it doesn’t matter.” Ron pulled at the collar of his robes. “I’ve said I’ll do it.”

Hermione made a sound of joyful amazement, Harry stared at his friend, and Ginny looked bewildered. “Mum said yes?” she asked Danger. “Does she know what this is about?”

“Not only does she know, but your father has seen it done,” said Danger. “And he says Ron would be in no real danger at all. He’ll be inconvenienced for about a month, that’s all.”

“And you’ll be better by tomorrow, Drake,” added Ron. “Just in time to start studying for exams.”

Oh, of course, that’s why you’re doing this. To get out of exams. I should have known. But there was an undercurrent of surprise and genuine gratitude in Draco’s voice. Thanks, Ron. I won’t forget this.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you.”

“You’re nuts,” said Harry. “Wish I was a pureblood, I’d do it.”

“Well, you’re not. So I get to do something you can’t. Suck it up, hero-boy.”

Harry shoved Ron off the bed.

Hermione hadn’t moved since the announcement. Now, as Ron picked himself up off the floor, she suddenly jumped up, threw her arms around him, kissed him on the lips, and ran out of the room.

I have a feeling I’m really going to regret not being able to see that as soon as someone tells me what it was.

“It’s all right,” said Harry, staring at Ron, who was standing completely still and looking dazed. “I’ll show you my memory later. How do we do this?”

“We don’t do anything,” said Healer Young from behind him, making him jump. “You, young man – Ron, is it? – you lie down over here, and get comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

“Yeah, a while,” said Ron, lying down on the indicated bed. “A while, like a month. I must be out of my mind.”

If you back out now...

“I never said I was going to back out.”

Yeah, but you acted like it.

“Would you two stop?” said Ginny. “Draco, you’d better take your chain back. It might interfere with the spell.”

“Good thinking,” said Healer Young approvingly. “I’ll get Trainee Freeman-Black in to observe while you’re doing that.” He moved to the other end of the room, where the screens had been drawn around a bed.

Remus took Draco’s chain off, but Danger didn’t bother, letting it slide through her neck as Draco called it home. It vanished through his robes, and Remus swallowed in sympathy. He knew, too well, the feeling of being entirely alone.

“I’ll be right here,” Ginny said, taking up a station beside Ron as Aletha and Sirius emerged from behind the screens. “And I’ll get my chain on you as soon as the spell goes through. That way, you won’t have time to get scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

Ginny made a motion indicating what she thought of that.

Where did a nice girl like her learn language like that?

They all get corrupted so young these days. Remus tossed in an image.

Well! If you show them things like that, I shouldn’t wonder!

Hermione stuck her head into the room. Remus beckoned her closer. She trotted in, followed closely by Luna. “I heard about the curse,” said the blonde girl, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Healer Young is just going to transfer it from Draco to Ron,” said Danger.

Luna nodded and walked quickly to Draco’s bedside. Hermione did the same, and Harry, tapping two fingers against his brother’s cheek and muttering something to him, stepped across the aisle to the other bed. Ron looked pale, but resolute, though he was holding Ginny’s hand.

Please. Allowing Ginny to hold his hand, so that she will not be frightened by the terrible spellwork about to take place.

Remus’ response was lurid and impolite, making Danger laugh.

The curse transference was indeed a simple spell, but the gestures were large and impressive, and it obviously needed careful handling to make it work right. Healer Young was not quite sweating when he took his wand away from Ron for the last time, but he did look relieved. “You should be able to use those now,” he told Ginny, nodding to her pendants. “The active magic’s over, there’s nothing for them to interfere with.”

In the other bed, Draco drew a long, wheezing breath, then began to cough. Remus thought he’d never heard a more beautiful sound.

Luna waited until Draco was breathing more or less normally and had opened his eyes, and until Hermione had hugged him tightly, blinking away tears again. Then she leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth.

“Is it my birthday and I just haven’t noticed?” Sirius asked.

“Wow,” said Draco hoarsely when Luna straightened up. “I have to get killed more often.”

“I don’t think so,” said Danger tartly. “Once is quite often enough for me, thank you very much.”

“Yes, do think of us poor old folks,” added Aletha. “We’re getting gray hairs fast enough because of you. Do you really need to speed it along like this?”

“Oh, right,” Draco scoffed. “Show me one gray hair on your head from today.”

“Does it have to be my head?” Aletha looked smug. “Because I can see several from where I’m sitting, and I’m pretty sure they weren’t there yesterday.”

“Where?” asked Sirius in alarm.

“Don’t fuss, they’re barely visible. Besides, they make you look debonair. The dashing Auror, no longer in his first youth but now a man of experience.”

Sirius was about to respond to this, but Healer Young cut in. “The curse seems to have transferred perfectly,” he said. “There’s only regular hospital care needed now, which Poppy Pomfrey is entirely capable of – where is she, by the way? I haven’t seen her since I got here.”

“In her office,” said Aletha. “She said she was out of her depth and in the way when it came to curses, and she wasn’t going to interfere in things she didn’t properly understand.”

“I’ll go in and have a word with her, then, and Floo back to the hospital straight from there. I’ll be by tomorrow to check, but if nothing goes wrong between now and then, nothing will.”

“Thank you for this,” said Aletha, rising and shaking the Healer’s hand. “For everything.”

“Not at all.” Healer Young knocked at Madam Pomfrey’s office door and was admitted, closing it behind him.

“Now where were we?” said Danger. “Oh yes, something about a dashing Auror, a man of experience.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not an Auror anymore,” said Sirius. “Not after this afternoon.”

“What happened?” asked Remus, surprised.

“I basically told Scrimgeour to go to hell. He was playing with me, making me go fetch papers for him, even when he knew I had a family emergency to get to – I think he thought I was making it up – and then he told me he still doesn’t believe I’m not a Death Eater, and he thinks I may have been responsible for the poisonings. And then your note got there, Harry, and I just lost it. I was about to leave anyway, but that really clinched it. He told me if I walked out of his office, I’d never work as an Auror again, and...” Sirius shrugged. “I did.”

“He’s bluffing,” said Aletha. “He can’t afford to fire you. You’re too high-profile. Especially if you go public with why you left. Come on, you know how people think. Rushing off to see sick child – good. Keeping someone from rushing off to see sick child – bad. He’d take an enormous hit on that one.”

“Sick, hell, I thought he was dying,” said Sirius. “Harry sent me a note about it.”

“Yes, I think some people have some explaining to do about their part in this afternoon,” said Danger, looking over at the bed which held a motionless Ron, with Harry and Ginny on either side of it. They both looked up at this. “Are we going to learn exactly where you were that you could, apparently, hear everything that went on in this room?” She nodded to the hole in the wall by the fireplace.

“I think we’re due an explanation first,” said Harry, standing up. He looked straight at Remus. “What happened to ‘we’ll tell you as soon as we know anything’?”

Remus took a breath to begin a chain of explanations – all of them perfectly valid reasons why he hadn’t told Harry and the others what was going on – but then let it out again. Harry deserved better than explanations which were, at the end, more than half excuse. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he said. “I did tell you that, and then I didn’t follow through on it. I’m very sorry.”

“Oh, come on, there wasn’t time,” objected Draco. He looked at his watch. “Hell, it hasn’t even been an hour since this whole thing started! We’re supposed to still be taking that mock Potions test!” Danger laid a hand on his shoulder, quieting him.

There was still hurt in Harry’s eyes, but it was fading, and there was also respect, and thanks for being treated like an adult. “I understand,” he said. “It did blow up awfully fast. And it’s not like we weren’t listening anyway.” He looked at the hole in the wall. “Do you have to know about it?” he asked a little wistfully. “It was a secret.”

“Is it the safe place we were discussing over holidays?”

Harry nodded.

“That’s where you den, isn’t it?” said Sirius. “I’d bet anything there’s an entrance like that in the Gryffindor common room.”

“What happened to ‘there’s no way they den together,’ Padfoot?” Remus asked.

“I never said that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Prove it.”

Remus shook his head. “Never mind.”

Sirius grinned. “I win.”

“Oh, really?” said Aletha. “And just what do you think you win? You think I’m going to stick around with a big fat liar?”

“I am not fat!”

“But you are a liar,” said Remus, recognizing the opening of a classic double-team when he saw one. “You lie like a magic carpet.”

“Magic carpets don’t lie. They fly.”

“Which is what you’ll be doing, out that window, if you don’t start telling some truth right now,” said Aletha.

“I thought throwing people out the window was your threat,” said Sirius, looking at Danger.

“I’m not getting involved in this,” said Danger, backing away. “You three fight it out yourselves.” Actually, I have something I want to do, she told Remus silently. Have fun beating up on Sirius.

I always do. You have fun doing whatever you want to do.

Oh, I think I will.

xXxXx

In the Defense teacher’s quarters, Danger lay down on the bed. I want to use my wild magic, she said, carefully shaping her words to reach other mental ears than Remus’. When I had so much of it that it was bursting out, I remember that I could change and shape dreams. I want to do that again.

I see no problem with that, answered another. In fact, if it is your own dream you wish to shape, or that of one connected to you in blood or in soul, you need no special magic at all. Dream-shaping is not a magical gift per se – even some Muggles have it. Your mother was one. It is in your blood.

Danger filed that little piece of information away for later reference. But the one I seek to help is not related to me, she said. It is the boy called Ronald Weasley. He will be unable to move or speak for several days because of a kindness done to my Pack-son. I wish to make his nights, at least, more pleasant. Can he be given a dream in which his friends can also choose to participate, in which they can all do what they please?

Certainly this can be done. The price to you is six hours. You may wish to wait until nightfall before you invoke the magic.

Thanks for the advice. What do I do?

Think of your goal, and pronounce “Amoenus somnium. ”

Danger laughed. “Sweet dreams”?

Would you prefer something more complicated, more portentous?

No thanks, that should work just fine.

The communication ended, and Danger was about to sit up when, without warning, it reactivated. She was suddenly falling down a long tunnel, whirling with color and sound.

This hasn’t happened for years – what the hell...?

It ended. She was standing in a hallway, pressed against a wall, listening to a conversation in the room within.

“–not bloody fair, Rick. I know they’re not puppets, and they deserve a chance to live their own lives, but cutting them off like this was cruel.”

That’s Alex!

“You should have taken that into account when you made that unauthorized communication during the summer,” said Godric Gryffindor testily. “We’ve been over this – nursemaiding them was allowable when the cubs were young, but they’re getting older now, more able to handle their own challenges. The adults as well. And you broke the rules, Alex. The consequences are clear – since you warned them about something you shouldn’t have, they have to weather two major events with no warning from you. And they have been warned about the next one.”

“If you’re talking about Weena’s pet Seer, the woman’s a total imbecile. She’d predict rain in the middle of a drought. There’s no way they’re going to believe her. And it’s coming up so soon – at least let me tell them when!”

“They do believe her, as you would have known if you’d bothered to watch them instead of whining about them all the time to me, and if they have any intelligence at all, they’ll know when. They know what their enemy knows, don’t they?”

“Yes, but – it’s still not fair! ” Best I can do, Alex’s voice continued silently. Good luck.

Danger opened her mouth to speak, to ask what was going on, but the tunnel enveloped her first.

All in all, she pondered as she fell, that was probably a good thing. If Alex was being punished just for telling her to get to Draco quickly during the summer...

I don’t even want to think about what kind of punishment he’d get for bringing me there without permission.

So we’re in for more trouble, and soon. Not that we didn’t know that. And we have to think about what our enemy knows, and that will tell us when it will come...

As she landed in her body again, she had to laugh.

Isn’t that just like a Slytherin, though? Doing something by complaining that he’s not being allowed to do it?

I think I’d better keep this one to myself. Or, better yet, act like I came up with it myself. “I was just thinking, Malfoy’s likely to try something else soon now that this has failed. We ought to be ready.”

She got up and started back to the hospital wing. The Pack had some serious planning to do.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 20: Recovering and Returning (Year 3)


Chapter 20: Recovering and Returning

Remus stood by the door of the hospital wing, waiting. As Danger came into view, he stepped out to intercept her.

This is very nice, she said after a moment, but we need to get inside. We need to talk – I’ve just thought of something –

I know. But tell me this. Is there any immediate danger? Besides you, I mean.

I can’t see how there could be. But –

But nothing. I am the alpha of this Pack, and I am invoking my authority. I am going to take some time off, and you are coming with me. Understand?

Danger made her mental voice high and squeaky. Yes, Master Remus. Danger will do whatever you says, Master Remus.

Remus tickled her side, making her squeal and pull away, then took advantage of her being off balance to sweep her off her feet and carry her down the corridor.

No, wait, she protested, clinging to his neck. What about Draco?

I’ve said hello, so have you. The rest of the Pack is in there with him. He’ll be fine without us for a while. Remus opened his mind to her, showing her the places where fear had rubbed him raw and the mental shakiness he was beginning to feel as the euphoria of Hermione’s revelation and the curse’s successful transference wore off. Unless you want me to collapse in public.

No, I think that we can do without. At least this happened at the best possible time for you, moon-wise. It’s new tomorrow, I think.

You’re right. We have two full weeks until den-night. So we don’t have to be at all restrained right now...

Danger’s Animagus form might be a wolf, but there was plenty of cat in her nature as well, Remus reflected, as a happy growl, almost like a purr, resonated through both of them. He whistled at the door of their quarters, which sprang open, and carried her inside.

The door closed behind them of its own accord.

xXxXx

Sirius didn’t care for sitting around and doing nothing, except for times when he had a lot to think about.

But I think this qualifies.

Aletha had examined Ron and shown Poppy how to work through the layers of illusion the curse had laid down to make its victim seem dead, confirming by their spells and by Ron’s own words through his chain that he was comfortable. Molly would be along soon to check on him, and Arthur might well find time to drop by after he got home from work.

He was also highly curious about the large hole in the wall beside the fireplace, out of which Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had apparently appeared earlier. But Remus had told the cubs he’d let it stay a secret, and Sirius was willing to honor that. He wished some of the teachers he’d known at Hogwarts had been so understanding – but no, they’d wanted to know every single detail of everything he and James had ever been caught doing...

But those were memories for another day. Harry had closed the hole with a muttered password and was now sitting silently next to Ron, his expressions changing as if he was having a conversation, which he was, Sirius knew. Ginny was curled up on the end of Ron’s bed, snickering occasionally, and Hermione was sitting on his other side, a book in her hands, probably tossing in her two Knuts’ worth every so often. Luna, having reassured herself that Draco would be all right, had gone to say goodbye to her father before he went home.

Draco himself was sitting up in his bed with a look of long-suffering nobility as Aletha and Poppy poked and prodded at him. Sirius could sympathize. He’d always hated the hospital wing when Quidditch injuries or backfiring pranks had landed him there.

“I really do feel fine,” Draco was saying now, with obviously forced patience.

“I’m aware of that. You’re still not allowed out of this bed.” Poppy took Draco’s hand in hers and tapped it three times with her wand. “Circulation is back to normal, excellent.”

“I don’t want to go very far. What about just over to the window?” He looked wistfully at Aletha. “I’d like to sit in the sun.”

Aletha laughed. “You do love to bask. But I’m afraid I’m siding with Poppy on this one, fox. You may feel fine, but your body’s still recovering from the shock of shutting down and starting up again. You need to stay where you are for the time being.”

Sirius stood up. “He can stay in bed and still be over by the window,” he said. “Like so.”

He drew his wand and levitated the bed. Draco brightened up and looked at the nurse hopefully.

Poppy folded her arms and glared at Sirius. “In all my years here, Sirius Black, I have never met anyone more determined to turn my infirmary into a circus. I have three more tests I wish to run and a potion for Master Black to drink, and then – and only then – I will allow you to play these silly games.”

“Not a sleeping potion,” said Draco quickly as Sirius lowered his bed to the floor again. “Please?”

“No, it’s a restorative. But until you have taken it, you,” she rounded on Sirius, “will remove yourself. To the other end of the ward. Go and see your daughter again, if you like. Heaven knows I’d rather have her here than you, she’s much better company and a thousand times more cooperative...”

“I’m going, I’m going,” said Sirius, beating a hasty retreat up the ward. Poppy and Aletha’s laughter followed him.

Meghan was still asleep, lying peacefully in her bed with Neville next to her, his arm draped over her possessively. Sirius felt a twinge of jealousy.

She’s only ten. I ought to have had her to myself for years yet. Who do you think you are, little Longbottom – you can’t just come flying in and steal my baby...

But the situation wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought, he told himself. Meghan was only ten, and a sensible ten at that, and Neville was by far the steadiest of the boys. This was just a childhood romance, with both parties mimicking the actions of their elders. Not for the first time, Sirius blessed his good fortune in finding Aletha and having the intelligence to hold on to her, and in living with Remus and Danger.

Pearl has some good role models there, if I do say so myself. And I don’t know what couples Neville’s known, but he has to have heard stories about his parents, and now he has the real thing to watch. We’ll just keep an eye on them, and not try and fix anything that isn’t broken.

He bent down and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Love you, sweetheart,” he told her, adding a scent-touch to the same spot. “You’ll need to be more careful about what you try to heal, though.”

As his fingers rested on her cheek, he could have sworn he heard her blow a raspberry at him.

Draco was just setting aside the goblet, making a face, as Sirius stepped back out into the main ward. “Is there some rule that all Healing potions have to taste really nasty?” he asked as Sirius levitated his bed again.

“You’re the ace potion maker. You tell me.”

“He hasn’t got to that level yet,” said Aletha from behind him, where she had two chairs suspended in the air with her wand. “But yes. It’s in the Big Book of Potions Rules. ”

“There is no such thing,” said Draco, but his voice wasn’t as sure as his words. “Is there?”

Aletha nodded soberly. “Of course there is. There’s a Big Book of Rules for everything. They define life and all the actions therein.”

“For instance, there’s the Big Book of Villains’ Rules ,” said Sirius. “It states that all villains must gloat when they catch the heroes in their evil strongholds, in the process explaining all their evil plans, and then they must leave the heroes alone to give them a chance to escape and use their new knowledge to destroy them. The villains, that is.” He set Draco’s bed down in the beam of sunlight coming from the window.

“That’s not true.”

“Or the Big Book of Heroes’ Rules, ” said Aletha, giving Sirius one chair and taking the other herself. Sirius spun his around and straddled it. “Always, always, always help the cute little animals, the old women in trouble, and the children with big eyes. Pick a good sidekick – make sure he’s willing to take a bullet for you. Or a spell. He should also have a cute sister or cousin you can fall for.”

“You’re making this up.”

“And then there’s the Big Book of Parents’ Rules, ” said Sirius. “Number one on the list – always give your child as hard a time as possible.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the chair. “How’re we doing?”

Draco punched him in the shoulder and suggested something which made Aletha clear her throat. “I’ve done my share of swearing,” she said, “but if I ever hear you say that again, I think I’ll have you give it a try and find out just how uncomfortable it would be.”

Draco immediately sat up very straight and folded his hands, looking entirely prim and proper. Sirius leaned over and poked him in the side, making Draco yelp and glare. “Nothing too far wrong with you anymore,” he said in satisfaction.

Draco shuddered and looked back down the ward, to the bed where Ron lay. “That was horrible,” he said with true conviction. “I don’t ever want to do it again.”

“Nor do I,” said Aletha. “Though I’m glad it was what it was, little fox, and not what it looked like. I don’t think I could stand losing you.” She shifted from her chair to his bed and opened her arms to him, and Draco scooted down the bed and let her hug him.

“Do you think that’s really what it’s like when you die?” he asked hesitantly when Aletha had moved back to her chair. “Being trapped like that, just stuck, and not ever being able to do anything again?”

“No,” said Sirius and Aletha in chorus, then smiled at each other. Sirius motioned Aletha to continue.

“We know that we’re not just our bodies, that there is such a thing as a soul,” said Aletha. “And that what we consider our ‘selves’ – the things that make us who we are, like our magic and our memories and our ability to love – reside in the soul. What we call ‘death’ is actually a twofold process. The body stops working, and the soul departs from it. As we’ve just had proved, you can have one without the other, though I doubt it could happen without magic.”

“We already knew you could have one without the other,” said Sirius. “From the Dementor’s Kiss. That yanks the soul out, but the body’s still working.”

“True enough,” said Aletha, giving him a look , “but perhaps not the most appropriate topic of conversation at this time.”

“It’s relevant.”

The look intensified for a moment. Then Aletha turned back to Draco. “But the fact that the soul departs – that a truly dead person is invariably without a soul – makes me sure that what you just experienced is nothing like real death, Draco. That is still one of the greatest mysteries of life.”

“So what are we supposed to do, then?” asked Draco a touch bitterly. “Just live for the moment, because we could die any time and we don’t know when?” He turned onto his side, facing away from them. “And we don’t know what’s going to happen when we do, either,” he said to the wall. “We could go on to some great wonderful place, but we could also just go pop like a bubble, and that’s the end. What are we supposed to do?”

Sirius looked at Aletha. I have an idea, he told her in hand-sign. Let me try? She nodded, and he rubbed his fingers against the back of the chair, feeling the grain of the wood, putting his words together.

“All I can tell you is what I’ve come up with,” he said finally. “And I don’t claim to be any kind of expert. But to my way of thinking, it really doesn’t matter so much what happens after we die. Not in the sense of changing how we’re going to act day-to-day.”

Draco turned over to stare at him. “Huh?”

“If we do go on to something else – and I tend to believe we do, but I’ll get to that later – if we do go on, there’s probably an entrance fee. Not in money or anything like that, but in how we’ve spent our lives. We only have so much time here on earth. If there is Someone up there watching us, I don’t think He cares to see us wasting that time. Having fun, relaxing, sure, but not out-and-out wasting it. Not just playing around when there’s work that needs to be done, work that we can do. Work that makes a difference.”

Aletha was watching him with a knowing smile. Draco sat up again, listening.

“If we don’t go on – if we just go pop like a bubble, like you said – well, everybody leaves something behind. Wouldn’t you rather leave something good and valuable and have people remember you by it? Even if they don’t know your name, they’ll still be remembering you every time they use that spell, or that road, or whatever it is.”

“Or when they fall in love with one of your descendants,” added Aletha. “Or have their lives touched by them in some other way.”

Draco was nodding, his face relieved and understanding. “So you’re saying we can hope for a better world after we die, but what we really ought to be thinking about is making this a better world while we’re still alive.”

“That’s the Snitch,” said Sirius. “Would you care to be bored a little longer with why I think there probably is something beyond this world we live in?”

“I think I can take it.” Draco clung to the edge of his bed as if he expected to be blown away. “Go ahead.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Funny. You know, I was pretty stupid when I was young...” He looked over at Aletha. “Insert comment here.”

“No thank you,” said Aletha, shaking her head. “He thinks he’s funny,” she said to Draco. “Despite everything I’ve tried to teach him, he still thinks he’s funny.”

“Are you quite finished?” Sirius demanded.

“Yes, go on. Don’t worry about me, you’ll hear me if I have anything to say.”

Sirius sighed. “I get no respect. As I was saying – I acted pretty stupid while I was at Hogwarts, and when I was an apprentice. Right up until someone I knew died. He was a clerk who worked in the Auror Office, an older wizard. His name was Charles Hartman, and he was always kind to everyone. He kept a bowl of candy on his desk, for anyone to help themselves. He knew everyone’s name, and all about them, and would ask after their families and their pets. And then one morning his desk was empty, and we found out he’d been killed by Death Eaters because he was Muggleborn.”

He hadn’t thought about Mr. Hartman in years, but the man’s face – fringe of white hair around a shining bald crown, crinkled eyes, rather large nose, cheerful smile – rose in his memory as easily as if he’d seen him yesterday.

“I couldn’t believe it. None of us could. How could he be gone? It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t right. But it had happened, and none of us with all our pride in our magic and our strength could bring him back. I think that’s when I started believing there was something beyond this life, was when Mr. Hartman died. Because that much caring, that much kindness, that much love couldn’t just vanish into nothing.”

He looked over at his wife. “And then I got my head on straight where Letha was concerned, around the time James and Lily got married. And I felt it again, about both of us, all of us. One lifetime wasn’t enough to hold all the love we felt. There ought to be something more.”

“And then came Harry,” said Aletha. “And you knew there had to be something more.”

Sirius nodded. “This is probably sounding stupid and ridiculous,” he said. “But it’s the honest truth. We’ve seen for ourselves that the effects of love can even outlast death – Lily’s been dead for years, but her love is still with Harry, keeping him safe.”

“And your mother’s love is what anchors the wards around the Den,” added Aletha, touching Draco’s hand gently. “Love has its own magic, beyond anything we know or understand. So it doesn’t seem like a bad thing to put our faith in.”

Draco’s cheeks were a little pink, but he was smiling. “Thanks,” he said. “Now I can die happy.”

“What?” Aletha looked alarmed.

“Of an overdose of sugar.” Draco leaned back in his bed, flung one hand dramatically against his brow, closed his eyes and let his mouth hang open slightly.

Sirius snickered. “Don’t encourage him,” said Aletha severely, then drew her wand and tapped Draco’s hand once.

Sirius stared as the hand molded itself to the forehead, as though all the bones had been removed from it. Draco opened one eye and examined his hand at close range. “See?” he said, then pitched his voice several tones higher. “I’m melting, I’m melting...”

Sirius had known Draco was a wicked mimic, but this was too much. He stood up and went quickly behind the screens where Meghan and Neville were sleeping, put up Silencing Charms, and fell onto the chair beside the bed, feeling the last of his tension release itself in his laughter.

When he emerged, Aletha had restored Draco’s hand, and they were chatting about school and other things. “Ron’s going to miss the Combat Club final,” said Draco. “It’s in just about two weeks, right before finals start. Oi, Ron!” he shouted down the ward. “Should have thought – you’ll miss Combat Club!”

“He says good,” Ginny shouted back. “He says we’re overdue to be partners with Slytherin, and he doesn’t want to have to do that.”

“That’s true, Gryffindor and Slytherin haven’t been partners all year,” said Aletha. “I wonder why not?”

Draco and Sirius snorted identically, then looked at each other in surprise as Aletha cracked up. “What were you going to say?” Draco asked.

“I was going to say I thought Moony and Danger have been rigging the draws. What were you going to say?”

“Same.”

“Then we agree,” said Sirius in satisfaction. “I do love a good non-argument.”

“Because it’s the only kind you can win,” said Aletha slyly.

“Why did I marry this woman?” Sirius asked the ceiling. “All she does is abuse me. Night and day, day and night, the ill-treatment never stops. Woe is me. I dare not lift a finger without her permission. I am the original henpecked husband.”

Aletha rose from her chair and shut him up in time-honored fashion.

“I think that’s a little more than a peck,” said Draco, staring at them.

“Get a room,” shouted Harry from the other end of the ward. Ginny whistled through her fingers.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” said Sirius, breaking off the kiss. Hermione, he saw, was ignoring them all with calm dignity.

“Harry taught me.”

“Thought so.”

The flames in the fireplace turned green. “That’ll be Molly,” said Sirius, and sure enough, a few moments later, Molly Weasley stepped neatly from the fireplace and intercepted a running hug from Ginny.

“You know, it strikes me there’s likely some fires that need putting out elsewhere in the school,” said Aletha. “Remus said there were a fair number of students in the common room when this happened. We’ll need a decent cover story...”

“Oh, you mean you’re not going to tell them that I was under an evil curse, but Ron took it on himself out of the goodness of his heart?” Draco inquired in an innocent voice.

Aletha looked down at him. “Well, if you want it back...”

Draco zipped a finger across his lips.

With a loud bang, the doors of the hospital wing flew open and Fred and George Weasley piled in, Percy right behind them, the twins already talking.

“We heard something’s wrong with Draco.”

“That’s not Draco. What’s happened to Ron?”

“Mum, what are you doing here?”

“Er, Fred, I don’t think he’s breathing...”

Madam Pomfrey, who had come out of her office to see who had arrived by Floo, threw up her hands in exasperation. “I knew it!” she said, spinning on her heel. “The circus has begun.” She cast a look at Sirius. “This is all your fault.”

“Why is it always me?” said Sirius to no one in particular as the door of the nurse’s office banged shut again.

Another bang made him look down just in time to see a house-elf materialize beside him. “Sirius Black, sir?” it squeaked, tugging at Sirius’ robes. “Kiffy has a note for sir.”

“Give it here,” said Sirius, reaching down without taking his eyes off Ginny, Harry, and Hermione. They were explaining the circumstances behind the curse and its transference to the other Weasley brothers one after another, taking a sentence apiece, as if they were reading from a script. They were probably coordinating through Ron’s chain, Sirius thought. “Thank you,” he added towards his knees.

“Wow,” said Fred in awe. “Ron’s dead? ”

“No, it just looks like it,” said Harry. “It’ll wear off.”

“Nuts.” George snapped his fingers.

“He says he wishes he could do it to you,” said Ginny. “Because maybe then you’d shut up for a while.”

Mrs. Weasley directed a glare at all her children. “That’s enough, now. How are you feeling, Ron dear?” She came to Ron’s bedside. Hermione vacated her chair for the older witch and handed her a loop of chain.

“You put it on,” she whispered. “Then you can hear him, inside your head.”

The twins immediately picked up some of the chain themselves, only to have it melt through their hands and return to its original place. “What’s with this thing?” asked Fred, staring at it and making another unsuccessful grab.

“I don’t think Ron wants to talk to you right now,” said Ginny, giggling.

“He says he’s still angry about what you did to his wand at our last Combat Club practice,” said Hermione.

“That was an accident,” said George, looking offended.

“Totally random,” added Fred.

“We just tossed it in there.”

“How were we supposed to know...”

“That Ron would pick up the one we’d rigged to explode?”

“How’d you do that, anyway?” Draco called down the ward.

“Oh, there you are,” said Fred, turning to look. “Feel all right?”

“Fine. How’d you do it?”

“It’s easy enough,” said George. “You adjust the dye output up as far as it’ll go.”

“You can adjust it?” Draco beckoned the twins closer. “Tell me more.”

“I think we’re not going to be welcome here at the moment,” said Aletha, starting towards Ron’s bed.

“I think you’re right.” Sirius gave the twins a thumbs-up as he passed them.

“Oh, Percy, he says thanks,” Harry was saying as they got closer. “For clearing off the stairs so he could get out faster. And you kept everyone from swarming up there, too, he says. That was a big help.”

Percy nodded gravely. “Tell him he’s very welcome.”

“Tell him yourself. He can hear just fine. Better yet, come on in. He doesn’t mind.”

Percy looked a bit surprised, but pleased. “I’ll do that.” He sat down on the bed next to Ron’s and took the chain Ginny handed to him, holding it gingerly, then slid it over his head as if he’d never done such a thing before.

Well, maybe he hasn’t. A lot of men don’t wear jewelry.

“Molly, I wanted to talk to you,” said Aletha, beckoning to the witch. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course – I’ll be back in a second, Ron, love...” Molly took the chain off and came out from between the beds. “Is something else the matter?”

“For a change, no. I just wanted to thank you for letting Ron do this.”

Molly shook her head. “I’ve long since given up being surprised at anything that happens to or with your family,” she said. “Quite truthfully, you’re more like a force of nature than anything else, and woe betide anything or anyone who gets in your way. But you’re intelligent, mature adults – yes, even you, Sirius. I know you may not care for it, but it is the truth. You behave like an overgrown teenager most of the time, but let one of these children be threatened and you’re all Auror in a second. No matter how odd the things you get up to sound, you’ve never let Ron or Ginny come to harm, and I believe you never will.”

Sirius stared at her for a second, then impulsively put his arms around her, hugged her hard, and kissed her once on the cheek. She squeaked in outrage and slapped him.

“There, now we’re back to normal.” Sirius rubbed his cheek. “I was starting to understand what Draco was talking about.”

Aletha was hugging Molly now. “Thank you so much,” she said, letting the red-haired witch go. “And you do realize you’ve now scared me beyond my power to comprehend at this time? One mistake by any of us, and your children could be badly hurt, even killed for real. And you’ve given us your trust. It’s not an easy thing to live up to.”

“I have confidence in you, Aletha. And in your loutish husband, as hard as it sometimes is to justify.” Molly kissed her hand and patted Sirius’ cheek. “And in Remus and Danger, and in your children as well. They seem sensible when it comes to truly perilous situations, and the avoiding thereof. Getting into mischief, of course, is another story.”

“It always is.” Aletha laughed. “At least we get good stories out of it all.”

“We do.” Molly checked her watch. “Excuse me, I should spend another few minutes with Ron before I go home to start dinner.”

“Sirius, what did the house-elf want?” Aletha asked as Molly returned to Ron’s bedside.

“Oh – it had a note for me.” Sirius looked at the parchment he was still holding. “From Danger. Guess she’s too lazy to come down herself.” He ripped it open. “Let’s see here. ‘Ask Poppy if Ron can sleep through the worst of the effects. I’ve bargained to get him a dream world he can hang around in until this wears off. Don’t bother us right now, or I’ll rip off... your...’” Sirius read the rest of the note to himself and swallowed. “And you say men are violent,” he said, handing the note to Aletha.

“You are.”

“I’m not the one who routinely threatens to kill the toaster.”

Aletha huffed. “It’s the only way to get it to shut up! It was nice of Arthur to give it to us, but I wish he’d fixed it first!”

“He did fix it. It sings on key now. You wouldn’t have wanted to hear it before.”

Aletha shook her head. “Let me talk to Poppy for a minute,” she said. “And then we can start thinking up what happened.”

xXxXx

“Ron Weasley?” said Lavender Brown in amazement. “A hero?”

Hermione nodded. “He saved Draco’s life, probably,” she said. “And Neville’s and Meghan’s, too.”

The story Letha and Padfoot had come up with involved as much of the truth as possible – Draco accused of cheating, denying the whole story, bolting out of Dumbledore’s office, and the Pride turning up in the common room after seeing him running that way while they were headed for Dumbledore’s office themselves – but obviously had a few differences.

We couldn’t exactly go telling the world about the curse.

In this version, Draco had been trying to figure out some way to prove he was innocent, and sorting through his potion ingredients, which he often did to calm himself down. Dean and Seamus were able to verify this, which helped a lot. In so doing, the story went on, Draco had accidentally opened a vial of nightshade extract and been overwhelmed by the fumes. Neville and Meghan had run in to try to bring him out and been likewise overwhelmed, and it had been Ron who finally dragged them all out of the room, getting a much higher dose of nightshade in the process, accounting for the longer time he’d spend recovering.

There was only one thing that bothered Hermione. In order to keep this story from falling apart, most of the second and seventh year Gryffindors had had to be Obliviated, to keep them from remembering that instead of remaining aloft as he would have had to in order to rescue anyone, Ron had dashed back down the stairs almost immediately, and returned only a few moments later with Moony and Danger...

They did get back quickly. I thought it took longer to get to Moony’s office. Or Professor Dumbledore’s, since that’s where they were.

But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was that her Housemates’ memories had been tampered with. That was wrong. Wasn’t it?

It means no one knows that your brother was almost buried alive because of a curse, murmured a voice which sounded oddly like Ron’s. It means no one knows that a cursed object got through all the security on Hogwarts. Isn’t that worth a little tampering with people’s memories?

She wasn’t sure.

And maybe does it have something to do with you not being a hero in this story?

Yes, all right, to herself she could admit it. It galled her that Ron got to be the only hero of the official story. He was a hero, of course – she wasn’t sure she could have volunteered the way he had, even if she’d been eligible – but she had stopped the globe torturing Draco.

And possibly set off the final stage of the curse.

But they didn’t know that for sure. Draco might have kept fighting it until that stage kicked in anyway. Or he might have given in to it, and that would have been worse.

So it all turned out for the best, right?

Right. Of course, right.

So why are you arguing about it still?

She didn’t know.

Maybe she’d go to bed early so she could see Ron.

Ooh, you want to kiss him again?

On second thought, maybe not.

xXxXx

Remus padded across the lawns in lion form, sniffing the breeze to find out who, if anyone, else was out here at midnight. Danger was in a state between sleep and unconsciousness, the payment time for the magic she’d used for Ron, so Remus was free to do as he pleased for a few hours without her along. It was enjoyable every once in a while, but he wouldn’t want to do it often.

He snorted in disgust as he picked up the foul stench of the dementors at the front gates.

Glide one inch within these grounds and we’ll find out if dementors can die...

A black hood turned to regard him, and he knew he’d been sensed. Or possibly scented – dementors hunted by tracking both emotions and scent, using one where they couldn’t find the other. He and Sirius, so long ago, had been able to avoid them by being in animal form, by their long immersion in seawater, and by using Muggle transportation, which effectively masked their scents under exhaust fumes.

His lips peeled back from his teeth, and he growled a quiet defiance at the filthy aberrations which dared linger near these hallowed grounds. Perhaps Hogwarts was not sacred to God or gods, but it was still a place set apart, a haven of good magic, where the young came to learn in safety. If he had his way, the dementors would all be destroyed, thrust back to the nether regions where such things as they belonged, never to threaten this place again.

Footsteps behind him alerted him to another presence. “Lupin,” said a precise, clipped voice. “Out for a little walk in the moonlight?”

Remus changed back to human and turned. “Hello, Severus.”

“Your lady wife is sleeping well, I trust?”

“Quite well, thank you. Severus, I wanted to thank you for not pursuing the subject of Draco’s supposed cheating...”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Lupin, it was nothing you said that changed my mind. One of my own students approached me to tell me privately that Black had been framed. I have dealt with the problem.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me who...”

“No.” It was a flat, definite negative. “It is an internal affair of Slytherin House, my concern and mine only. You tend to your own, and I shall tend to mine.”

“I’ll do that. But I also wanted to thank you for agreeing not to spread the true story of what happened this afternoon.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I fail to understand why I was told. I don’t believe you have such a high regard for my intelligence as to believe I would see through the other story – though I might have doubts that Draco Black, as one of my best students, would accidentally open a vial of nightshade extract.”

“It’s your right to know what happens with us. As it’s Minerva’s right, and Albus’, and even Hagrid’s.”

“If you’re going to cite the ridiculous distinction of being a Pack-friend... ” Snape spit the appellation. “...you may save your breath. I am no friend to you and yours, and I never will be.”

“I doubt that,” said Remus, watching the other wizard’s outline shift. “Severus, have you ever researched the Animagus transformation?”

Snape regarded him suspiciously. “Portions of it,” he admitted.

“Has your research ever extended to discovering what your own form would be, should you undergo the process?”

“It has.”

“May I inquire as to that form?”

“You may inquire. I will not answer.”

“But I may guess, may I not?”

“If you like.”

“A raven.”

Snape stiffened for one instant. “Clever,” he said finally. “Very clever, Lupin. How did you do it – some modification of the scrying spell?”

“A prophecy I once heard spoken. And other information available to me. That information makes me sure that despite all your protestations to the contrary, if it were necessary, you would stand our friend. You might not enjoy doing so, but you would do it.”

Snape stared at him for a moment impassively. “Delude yourself if you must,” he said finally. “But do not rely overmuch on your information. It might fail you at a crucial moment.”

Remus smiled. “Thank you for the advice, Severus. Good night.”

xXxXx

Hermione was late arriving in the dream world, later than anyone else. Ron landed his Firebolt when he saw her, assiduously avoiding her eyes as he walked towards her.

“About the hospital wing,” blurted Hermione. “It never happened, all right?”

“Sure,” agreed Ron, looking very relieved. “Never happened.”

“Shake?”

“Shake.”

They shook.

“What’s going on?”

“Quidditch.”

“I should have guessed. Don’t you ever think about anything else?”

“Well, food’s good too.”

“I meant something–” Hermione caught the twitch of his lips. “You’re teasing me!”

“It’s not hard. All I have to do is act like myself and you go up like a fireworks display. Works every time.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes and hissed. “I hate you.”

“I know.” Grinning cheekily, Ron took off again.

Hermione sat down on the grass to watch.

xXxXx

Sirius returned to work the next day. Rufus Scrimgeour stared at him for a moment or two, then turned and walked away.

“Bearded the lion in his den, I hear,” said Kingsley through the window between their cubicles as Sirius dropped into his chair.

“Did what I had to. How’s the work?”

“Awful, as usual. Want some?”

“Toss it over.”

xXxXx

Surprising Healer Young, Madam Pomfrey, and himself, Ron started breathing again at some point during his second night with the curse, and could open his eyes a little by the next morning. Meghan, who had awakened soon after dinner the day of the curse, stayed by his bed most of the day, and the rest of the Pride dropped in between every class and at mealtimes, having the house-elves bring food up for them.

“I’ve never seen a faster recovery,” Healer Young told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley five days after the transference. “Usually it takes at least ten to twelve days to progress to this stage. Your son must be very hardy.”

“Strong and tenacious,” said Mr. Weasley proudly. “That’s my Ron.”

Ron turned his head to hide his flush.

xXxXx

“Why did it embarrass you?” asked Hermione later. “You are strong and tenacious.”

“I don’t even know... what that second word means.”

“Stubborn. Holding on hard. You don’t ever give up.”

“That’s supposed... to be a good thing?”

“It can be. As long as you’re not stupid about it.”

“Come on, Hermione... it’s me. I’ll always... be stupid about it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

Draco pushed the door open and strolled up the ward. “Ron. Neenie.”

Hermione cleared her throat significantly.

“There’s no one else here. And actually, would you excuse us for a second?”

“If you insist.” Hermione picked up her book and notes and stood. “I’ll be back later.”

“What’s going on?” asked Ron, noticing for the first time that Draco’s posture was off balance. As if he were carrying a package, though there was nothing in his hand... or nothing that Ron could see, anyway.

“Just brought you something.” Draco reached across and pulled at the air, and away came Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, revealing –

“That’s your owl,” said Ron, as Draco set the cage on the bedside table. “Morpheus.” He frowned. “Wasn’t he... darker than that?”

“Morpheus was a good name for him in more ways than one. It means sleep, and he does do that a lot, but it also sounds like morphing, changing, and it turns out he’s a chameleon owl. He can change the color of his feathers. He was tawny when I bought him, but then he turned dark – he’s been snowy like Hedwig, had the barn-owl heart shape around his face... lots of things.” Draco reached through the bars and stroked the owl’s head feathers. “But he’s not mine any more. He’s yours.”

Ron was dumbstruck for a second. “I can’t take your owl,” he protested finally. “I don’t need one. It’s not like I write... a lot of letters.”

“But you want an owl of your own, you said so. And you did save my life, or close to it. I want to do something for you.” Draco tried a smile. “Please?”

Ron felt himself smiling back. “Well... if you’re going to make me...”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then... thanks.”

“I’ll leave him here,” said Draco, unlatching the cage door. “So you can see him for a while. He can head for the Owlery if he gets hungry. So have you heard the latest about Combat Club?”

“No. What’s up?”

“It is going to be Gryffindor and Slytherin versus Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Professor Lupin just drew the slips and announced it an hour ago.”

“Glad I’m in here,” said Ron with feeling. “I don’t know if I could handle... cooperating with Slytherins.”

“Oh, come on, they can’t all be bad.”

“Want to bet?”

“I was nearly one.”

“You were?”

“Yeah. The Hat said I’d do well in Slytherin. But I told it I didn’t want to be great, I just wanted to do well, and it ended up putting me in Gryffindor.”

Ron nodded. It seemed plausible that the Hat would consider Slytherin for Draco, because of his background, but he knew the blond boy had wanted to be a Gryffindor for years, and the Hat seemed to listen to what people want. “It doesn’t matter what you... nearly were,” he said finally. “It matters what you are.”

Draco looked at him. “That’s very philosophical,” he said.

Ron cracked another smile. “Comes from... lying flat on my back all day.”

Harry skidded in through the open door, slips of parchment flying out of his bag. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much,” said Draco. “Just told him about Combat Club.”

“Yeah.” Harry came over and sat down with an expression of deep disgust. “Why couldn’t we have missed out on it just once more? We’ve avoided it all year...”

“Maybe they’re trying to teach us something,” said Draco.

Harry groaned. “That would be just like them. Sneaking life lessons into stuff that’s supposed to be fun. Why can’t we just shoot everybody else and be done with it?”

“Because everybody else may not be our enemies?”

“I like the sound of that,” said Ron. “Shooting everybody... not the other thing.”

“Well, not that it wouldn’t be fun,” Draco conceded. “Shooting everybody. But it wouldn’t win us the match. We’ve got to take it as it comes.”

“Take it as it comes,” repeated Harry. “Is that code for ‘let them walk all over us’?”

“No. But it is code for ‘please don’t shoot your allies, even if you don’t like them.’”

Harry sighed. “For the length of the match, I think I can handle that. Not any longer than that, though.”

Ron was suddenly curious. His own time with the Sorting Hat had been brief and easy, but Draco and Harry had both taken longer. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Did the Sorting Hat consider putting you... anywhere else?”

“Er... why?”

“Just wondering. Drake said... he could have been in... Slytherin.”

“I talked it around,” said Draco with a shrug. “Told it I’d be miserable there, so it tried bunging me in Ravenclaw. I said I’d go nuts stuck in a library all day, and it finally went to Gryffindor.”

Harry squirmed. “That’s kind of what happened to me,” he said. “It thought of a couple possibilities...”

“Slytherin?” asked Ron.

Harry nodded.

Harry in Slytherin. Ron tried to imagine it, and had a hard time. Harry could think around corners, sure, and come up with plans for things, but he wasn’t really sneaky. He wore his heart on his sleeve too much.

Takes one to know one, Weasley.

That was true, but it didn’t really matter. Besides, Fred and George were the sneakiest people he knew, and the Hat had had no trouble declaring them Gryffindors.

Harry and Draco are my best friends. I know them. They’re not evil.

And Harry was watching him, looking worried.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ron asked.

“Don’t know. I guess I just never wanted to tell anyone about it, because they might start thinking I ought to be in Slytherin anyway, even though I told the Hat I didn’t want to...”

“Then that’s why you don’t. Because you don’t want to. Does the Hat ever put anyone... where they don’t want to go?”

Harry and Draco exchanged wondering looks. “I don’t know,” said Harry. “Maybe we could ask Professor Dumbledore some time. But I don’t think so – not when the whole idea of Sorting is to put you where you’ll have the easiest time making friends and getting along...”

“It does tend to concentrate the trouble-makers, though,” said Draco. “They’re most likely to be Gryffindors or Slytherins. Ravenclaws are too busy studying, and Hufflepuffs are too nice.”

“Makes it easy on the teachers,” said Ron. “Makes sense.”

Hermione peered around the door. “May I come back in now, or are you still doing secret boy things?”

xXxXx

He closed his fists hard, staring out the window at the swirling water.

It was the perfect plan. I remembered the bird, and the note, and I went out to find it, and did all the set-up and everything, and it was working, right until someone blabbed that I’d started the note going, not Black...

If I ever find out who ratted on me, I’ll beat them so far into the ground they won’t need to be buried.

But at least it made people notice me. It showed I had ideas. And now they’re giving me the important jobs, trusting me over anybody else, even Daddy’s little boy...

He grinned nastily as he thought about what he’d be doing very soon.

xXxXx

It didn’t matter, he told himself, if he wrote letters. Anyone could write letters.

And there was no harm in relating the latest school gossip. It wasn’t as if it was secret. Anyone could find out about it.

He didn’t have to be responsible for what happened to his letters after they left him. Once you sent a letter, it stopped being your property or your problem. And as long as he wrote with his special quill, no one could ever trace it back to him.

But a small part of him still rebelled every time he sat down to write another letter.

He’d become very good at ignoring that part.

xXxXx

Dear Colleen,

I was very glad to get your latest letter. You must be intelligent, to complete your homework so quickly and still have time to write such long letters. I always feel happier when I see your handwriting on the outside of an envelope.

Quite honestly, I have little idea what I would like to do after I leave Hogwarts. I have always loved reading, so I’ve toyed for years with the idea of becoming an author. My teachers often compliment my essays, and I’ve been told I have a way with words, but I don’t know if that in itself is enough to equip an author.

Healers and mediwitches are always in demand. I’m certain you would have no problem finding employment. I understand your reservations about your temperament, but I doubt you would have been sorted into Gryffindor if you had no courage. You must find it and use it to overcome what you call your “horrible shyness.”

Personally, I see very little wrong with the way you usually act, except with the way you interact with other people. I know you may not be comfortable with it, but lifting your head and making eye contact with the person you are speaking to will help a great deal. Practice with your friends, and with teachers you like, and gradually work your way up to Professor Snape. (He even frightens me sometimes.)

I hope to hear from you again soon. Your letters brighten my days.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Admirer

xXxXx

Danger was writing a note on the calendar hanging in Remus’ office when she noticed something odd. She frowned, then closed her eyes. Are you aware we’ve scheduled the last Combat Club match on a full moon?

Yes. Don’t worry, the match will be over well before dark. It’s timed, so there’s no possibility of it going too long.

You’re sure?

Positive. Danger, it’s the only day we can have it – all the teachers want this over with before exams begin, so the students aren’t distracted, and there’s Hogsmeade the day before, and you know we’d never get them to give that up.

Danger sighed. Well... all right. I suppose you’re right. And it’s not like you’re incapacitated that day.

Not with you by my side, O queen of my heart.

You can’t see it, but I’m swooning with delight.

Shall I come in and catch you?

If you’d like. Danger smiled. I could make it worth your while...

On my way.

xXxXx

He walked into the same alleyway he’d entered on Halloween, and began the same process he’d used then – scratching his head while writing his note, then folding it and leaving it under the stone.

I’m going back to the castle alone at 3:00 . I’ll come here first, around 2:45 . The people I’ve been hanging around with recently are going back at 5:00 .

Slipping out of the alley, he smiled to himself.

I knew showing a little initiative wouldn’t go wrong.

xXxXx

Luna knelt in her place at a cross-corridor on the third floor, listening carefully for any sounds of footsteps down the hall. As far as she knew, there weren’t any echo-eaters at Hogwarts, so sounds should carry a normal distance. She wished she could have had her own wand for a moment, though, so she could check. If there were echo-eaters, the Ravenpuff army could be right around that corner and she’d never know.

There were no fancy rules for this match – the army with the most territory, the most prisoners, and the fewest losses would win. The Gryffindor and Slytherin Combat Club Captains, after a few sessions of glaring at each other, had come up with a plan. The fifth, sixth, and seventh years would form small teams and scout territory. Then an attack force of all years would move in to take the scouted section. Finally, the first through fourth years would set up to guard prisoners and perimeter, and the whole process would begin again.

It was working beautifully, Luna thought. Even if she did have to share her guarding duties with a Slytherin. She wished she could have been partners with Draco, but he was just one section over with Hermione, and Harry and Ginny were on her other side.

She looked steadily at her Slytherin partner for a few moments. I think I know him. Or I’ve seen him before.

That’s right. He’s Harry’s cousin. Mr. Moony brought him to the train in the Weasleys’ car, my first year. And I’ve seen him around the school. I don’t think he likes Harry very much.

As if he’d felt her eyes, the Slytherin’s head snapped around. “Watch the hall!” he hissed at her. “Stupid girl, they could sneak up on us while you’re busy staring at me!”

Well, there’s no need to be rude. Luna looked at him for one more moment, fixing his image in her mind so she’d be sure to know him again, then turned away.

Her last sensation was a sharp pain in the back of her head.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 21: Unwilling Sacrifice (Year 3)


Chapter 21: Unwilling Sacrifice

“Draco!”

“Luna! What are you doing here? Get back to your post, quick, we’re not supposed to leave–”

“I can’t, I just can’t – I need your help, you and Hermione both, it’s dreadful.” Luna wrung her hands. “Please, I need you now. It’ll only take a minute, and they’re nowhere near here. Please come, please...”

“You need both of us?” Draco looked at Hermione. She shrugged. “Luna, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t explain!” Luna wailed. “Please! ”

“Shh, you’ll have everyone coming to see what’s going on if you’re not careful.” Draco wondered why his next neighbors hadn’t already come to see what was happening – surely Luna’s cries would have drawn their attention by now.

“But you have to come. I need you.” Luna looked at him soulfully.

“It’ll only take a minute?” asked Hermione. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. It’s important – I think he’s hurt badly...”

“Hurt? Why didn’t you say so?” Hermione was on her feet. “Where is he?”

“Right back this way,” said Luna, starting off. Draco wondered at the faint note of triumph in her voice. “Just along here.”

They jogged along a hallway, passing the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor along the way, and turned the corner into Luna and Dudley Dursley’s sentry point. Dursley lay on the floor, a puddle of red liquid spreading around him, and Draco thought for one shocked instant –

But no, the liquid had a very definite orange tint to it.

“Luna, he’s not hurt,” said Hermione with careful patience. “He just fell on your wand or something, he’ll have to leave the match, but he’s not really hurt.”

“I know.” Luna was smiling, not in her usual aimless, friendly manner, nor in the focused joy Draco found so dazzling when she was truly happy about something – no, this was distinctly nasty, it would have looked absurd if it hadn’t been so frightening –

And now that Draco looked, she was standing between them and the exit to the corridor, with her wand in her hand...

He turned just in time to see Dursley sit up abruptly and point his wand at them.

Several things happened at once. Draco’s pendants went freezing cold, and Hermione’s shriek was cut off in the middle as Dursley’s Stunning Spell hit her. Instinctively, Draco dropped to the floor, and Luna’s spell shot over his head – he thought of running for an instant, but he couldn’t leave Hermione, and the wand he held was useless for real combat –

The last thing he saw was the smirk on Dursley’s face, and the knowledge that he’d seen it before, but not on Dursley...

xXxXx

“Oh God.” Harry leaned against the wall, one hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating wildly under the icy chill at his breastbone. The Combat Club match had just taken a turn for the worse, and Draco and Hermione needed his help...

He turned to his sentry partner. “Ginny, you have to get help. You have to run. Go, now.”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t argue with me! Go! ”

Ginny took a breath to continue the argument, but screamed instead. “Look out! ”

Harry spun and dropped in the same motion, hearing the hiss of a near miss over his head –

That’s a live spell!

He brought his wand up and sprayed dye across his attacker’s eyes, and only as she recoiled in surprise and pain, yelling, did he recognize her –

Luna?

He stared at her in shock for an instant, but even that instant was too long.

“Worthless fool!” shouted a furious voice, and another figure appeared around the corner –

Dursley?

Harry brought his wand up again, but Dursley disarmed him with an insultingly casual flick, and hit him with a second spell in almost the same motion –

He fell, and waited for the blackness to hit, and it wasn’t until he struck the ground with a thud that bruised his back and shoulder that he realized he hadn’t been Stunned.

Petrificus Totalus – the Body-Bind...

“You imbecile!” Dursley stormed at Luna, who was wiping dye away from her streaming eyes. “You let her get away! They’ll know we’re here any second, we’ve got to move! Get Potter!”

Luna levitated Harry, a pouty expression on her face. “Why did I have to be the girl, anyway?”

“Because Draco trusts her above anyone, as you saw.” Dursley smirked. “Besides, I think it rather suits you. Don’t make such a fuss, it’s only an illusion. You can take it off as soon as we get back.”

Of course, that’s not Luna – she’d never do this, not in a million years – but then, who...

Harry’s captor dropped him to the floor in the long hallway and tapped the stone hump of the one-eyed witch. “Dissendium ! ”

But the only people who know about that passage are the Marauders...

Dursley came into Harry’s field of view now, levitating Draco and Hermione, both unconscious, and still smirking. As Harry watched, Dursley stretched out a hand and stroked Draco’s cheek, caressing him.

Eww . That is so wrong.

Unless this isn’t Dursley either...

And then everything locked together, and Harry knew beyond a doubt who was taking them prisoner.

It was not comforting knowledge.

“I knew I was right to do the Silencing Charms for the perimeter myself,” said Lucius Malfoy, still running his hand along Draco’s face, as Peter Pettigrew levitated Harry again, lifting him above the stone slide and letting him drop. “You’d have–”

Harry lost the rest of the sentence, but it didn’t matter.

Run, Ginny, he willed her as he careened down the chute. Run as fast as you can...

But he knew even that might not be enough.

xXxXx

Remus was sitting in his office, monitoring the match through a modified version of the Marauder’s Map he’d created. Instead of the complicated spells that showed every person on the grounds, each combatant touched the map before the match started and stated his or her name and team. The map registered them by their touch and showed their locations throughout the match. There were also territory markers which team members could mark with dye after they had taken an area, which changed that area’s color on the map.

The Slythindors were doing surprisingly well – a few of them had “killed” each other, but not nearly as many as he’d expected. They seemed to be able to put their differences aside for the duration of the match. “I guess we shouldn’t have worried,” he said. “Gryffindors and Slytherins can cooperate after all.”

“If you twist their arms sufficiently...” Danger’s laughing response trailed off, and worry crept onto her face, escalating rapidly into fear.

Remus was about to ask when he felt it too. A trickle of ice. It started at the back of his neck, then ran rapidly around both sides and down his chest.

Somewhere, one of the Pack was in danger of death.

He pulled the chain out, spread the pendants, and felt his breath catch in his throat. On the last pendant, the wolf cub glowed brightly, and the fox flickered fitfully for a moment before settling down to a steady, faint gleam.

No need to panic. It’s probably one of Harry’s wild schemes gone a bit wrong, with Draco not sure if he’s in or out yet. But I should check just to make sure...

Remus flipped the medallion over.

The carving of the cat shone like a flame, brighter than both the others put together.

A giant hand grabbed Remus’ lungs and squeezed. The room darkened, and a monster roared in his ears.

Hermione would never be part of any of the boys’ crazy ideas, especially not ones that involved the possibility of death. This was no game. Somewhere, something had gone deadly wrong.

Thinking he was losing one of his cubs had been torture.

Losing three of them would destroy him.

Somewhere nearby, he could hear Danger’s harsh breathing. Her panic was adding to his own, and his was fueling hers, creating a feedback loop, worsening every second – Remus knew they had to stop it, had to do something, but the recirculating fear held them paralyzed –

The door slammed open. “Professors!” Ginny Weasley dashed in. “Something’s wrong, it’s Luna – she shot at me, she had a real wand, she tried to Stun me...”

With a wrench, Remus closed the mental connection, breaking the loop. A good half of the fear he was feeling vanished, and he shoved what was left to the back of his mind. “Where?”

“Third floor – Harry told me to run, and now his carving’s glowing – I don’t know what’s going on.”

“What part of the third floor?” Remus grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her over to the map. “Show me.”

Ginny stared for a moment, then put her finger down. “There. Look – there’s Luna now.”

A dot marked Luna Lovegood was indeed under Ginny’s finger, Remus saw as she moved her hand. But it was curiously unmoving for a living thing – and it seemed to be inside the wall – and there were no other dots for combatants in that area...

Remus shoved his fear away again. You’re not useful. I need to think clearly, and you’re not going to help.

Danger was beside him now, staring at the place Ginny had identified, running her finger along the hallways. “Ginny, who set up the postings for sentries?”

“The captains. The Slytherin captain put us all there, but it wasn’t supposed to be very dangerous – there were Slytherins to both sides of our group–”

“But you and Harry, and Draco and Hermione, were all here,” said Danger, still inscribing circles around the space. “Map, locate Harry Potter.”

Combatant not found, the map printed in a margin.

“Locate Draco Black and Hermione Granger-Lupin.”

Combatants not found.

Despite his best efforts, Remus’ fear was creeping back on him. The only reason for the map not to find the cubs was if they were no longer in the castle...

“And look what’s right here,” said Danger. Her finger landed on something in one of the hallways, and Remus frowned.

“What does that have to – oh. ” He gave a shaky laugh. “Danger, don’t be silly – I warded those passages at the start of the year, nothing can get in that way.”

“Could something get out?”

Out.

The floor dropped away from Remus’ feet.

Something could get out.

“Yes.” The word left him in a harsh whisper. “Yes. Something could... get out.”

Someone’s just left the castle. With my cubs. Meaning to kill them.

The passage takes them straight into Hogsmeade, and they can Apparate anywhere from there...

This is all my fault.

He barely heard Danger talking to Ginny, until suddenly the red-haired girl was gone and Danger was kneeling in front of him, looking him in the eye. He wondered when he’d fallen to the floor.

Remus.

He ignored her voice in favor of his own, closing his eyes as tears forced their way out. Hermione, sweet Kitten, forgive me – Draco, I’m so sorry, twice in the same month I’ve failed you – and Harry, dear God, did I take you from your relatives only to lose you now?

Remus John Lupin, listen to me!

With the mental shout came a yank, a sudden forced rapport, and Remus’ eyes opened without his conscious intent. Danger was staring into them, and Remus found himself listening to her, as she had commanded.

Yes, you made a mistake. Yes, it was a bad one. And yes, now our enemies have our cubs. But you cannot do this to yourself!

Why not?

Because people still need you. The cubs need you – Sirius and Letha need you – I need you. If you lose control, so will I, and we cannot afford that. Doubly tonight.

Tonight, Remus repeated dully. He looked over her shoulder at the clock. It was an hour until sunset.

It would be a relief to be lost in the beast, tonight – to rip and tear and rend and kill, to be free from this torment of thinking –

Stop it! A mental blow jolted him from his thoughts. Blame yourself all you want, but after we have them back safely! Now, please, help me. I can’t think this through all by myself...

I can’t think it through either. I don’t want to think anything through – it won’t help anyway – damn it, Danger, they could already be dead!

Danger bristled and tried to say something, but Remus silenced her with a mental hand over her mouth. And if they are, it is my fault. Do you understand that? My fault. I could have stopped whoever’s taken them – Malfoy, obviously, it has to be him – I could have stopped him getting away with them, and I didn’t, I forgot, and that’s the same as if I’d killed them myself –

“I have never heard such unmitigated bullshit!” Danger shouted aloud, making Remus pull back from her, since she’d been about two inches from his face. “You make one bloody mistake and suddenly everything is your fault? And that gives you the right to sit here and wallow in self-pity? I don’t think so!”

She got to her feet, staring down at him. “Fine. You sit on your arse and feel sorry for yourself. I’m going to find Sirius and Letha – they should be here any minute – and then we’re going to find our cubs, and rip apart whoever took them. We’ll do it fast if the cubs are still alive when we get there, and slow and painful if they’re dead. You can stay here – I’m sure somebody will find you a nice secure room to hurt yourself in – because tonight, I’m helping the people who need it most, and they aren’t you.”

She turned her back on him and started for the door, then turned back. “I never thought you were selfish before. I guess I was wrong.”

She had her hand on the doorknob before Remus found his voice. “Danger – wait. Please.” He got shakily to his feet, crossed the office in a few steps, and pulled her into his arms. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m just so scared...

I know. Me too. They were holding each other so tightly Remus was surprised either of them could still breathe. Let’s go do something about it.

Yes. Please.

They kissed once, then left the office at a run.

xXxXx

If he really strained his eyes, Harry found, he could see his watch.

He was grateful for that piece of luck. He knew from den-night stories that under stress, a person’s time-sense fell apart, so that they might think they’d been lost or under fire or in the dark for hours when it had really only been a few minutes.

He had a better excuse for not recalling the passage of time; he’d been unconscious. He’d hit his head at some point going down the chute, or possibly at the bottom. In any case, the chute was the last thing he remembered, and according to his watch, it was now fifteen minutes later.

His head hurt like anything, and he was still under the Petrificus. At least his eyes could move. He rolled them to their fullest extent, taking in what he could of the room where he was lying. There were no windows, and the shaky light of one candle didn’t show him much. As well, he was finding it a little hard to focus his eyes, and his mind kept wandering.

He did manage to notice, before darkness sneaked back up on him, that the room had the looks of a place that had been thoroughly trashed a long time ago, then hastily cleaned up. Something about the destruction looked familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it...

xXxXx

Neville paced up and down the hospital wing. The Combat Club match had been canceled as soon as Ginny had told Professor McGonagall what had happened, and all students had been sent back to their dormitories immediately. He, Meghan, and Ginny had installed themselves in the hospital wing to wait for news.

Madam Pomfrey had just a little while ago forced Ron to take a Sleeping Potion, after catching him trying to get dressed and sneak out for the third time in twenty minutes. Luna had been found unconscious in a secret passage close to her sentry point. She had told her story, and was now lying impassive in the bed next to Ron’s, staring at the ceiling. Ginny sat between their two beds in a chair, hugging her knees to her chest and hissing between her teeth with every breath.

Meghan was curled up on a bed at the other end of the ward. The last few times Neville had come near her, she had lashed out with a fist or foot, snarling. This time, as he got near, she didn’t react at all.

I think that’s good. He sat down on the bed. “Pearl? You awake?”

“No.”

If he hadn’t been so miserable, Neville would have laughed. “All right. Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad!”

“You sound mad.”

“I’m not! Why won’t you just leave me alone? ”

“Because I’m scared. I was hoping you would sit with me.”

A moment passed. Then a pair of eyes peered out from under an arm. “You’re scared?”

Neville nodded. “An awful lot.”

Meghan hiccupped. “Me too.”

“I know.” Neville moved up the bed and gingerly put his hand on Meghan’s back. They stayed that way for a long time.

Finally, Meghan sat up. “It’s not fair ,” she said petulantly, looking at Neville. “It’s not fair – I’m supposed to fix things. Make wrong things right. But this is the wrongest thing I’ve ever felt, and I can’t do anything about it!” The last half of the sentence came out as a wail.

Neville swallowed, thinking of all the nights he’d spent crying in his bed after visiting his parents in St. Mungo’s. “Sometimes you can’t,” he said quietly. “Sometimes you have to trust other people to do it for you. And sometimes there’s nothing anyone can do. But I don’t think this is one of those times. I think this is one of the times where you have to trust other people. Your parents are smart and really good wizards and witches. They’ll find them. They’ll bring them back.”

“But what if they don’t?” Meghan clenched her fists and stared at the wall. “What if Harry and Hermione and Draco all get killed?”

“They won’t.”

“But what if they do?”

“Then your parents will need you more than ever.”

Meghan sniffled once, twice, and started to cry again, and because he’d made it happen, even though he hadn’t meant to, Neville moved a little closer and held her.

An owl fluttered in through the window. Ginny jumped up and ran to it, snatching the note from its beak. She read it eagerly, then scowled and shook her head. “Still nothing,” she said. “All they know is that two people, with ‘several’ Side-Along passengers, Disapparated in Honeydukes’ cellar.”

“Fat lot of help that is,” said Meghan roughly.

Neville checked his watch. Harry, Draco, and Hermione had been missing for half an hour.

xXxXx

At Dumbledore’s invitation, the Pack was waiting for news in his office.

Aletha was twisting little scraps of parchment into tight screws, with an expression that suggested she wished each of them was Lucius Malfoy’s neck. Sirius was pacing, looking at his pendants and his watch after every few circuits of the office, as if convinced his motion would make them change. Danger was playing with a string she’d picked out of one of the chairs, twirling it between her fingers, knotting and unknotting it.

And I... am playing with fire.

Literally.

Remus wondered if anyone understood why he was choosing to pass the time and expend his nervous energy in this way. True, it was satisfying to shape the flames in Dumbledore’s fireplace into various forms. True, it ensured that he kept control over himself, since without that control he couldn’t hope to control the fire. But it also put him in a perfect position to read any notes that came through, and the Pack’s friends on the Auror force, of whom there were several (Sirius had made himself popular, not least by storming out of Scrimgeour’s office two weeks ago), were keeping them informed as often as possible...

The fire flared green, and a note fell out of it. Remus snatched it up and ripped it open. Oh God, please let this be...

“Nothing,” he said in disappointment. “Malfoy Manor is still deserted, no sign anyone was ever there. They’re doing the rounds of suspected Death Eaters – the ones who got off – but they don’t think they’ll find anything...”

“No shit,” said Sirius angrily. “He’s not going to take them to somebody’s effing house. He won’t want witnesses. Wherever he’s gone, it’s deserted, abandoned.”

Abandoned. Something flickered in Remus’ mind, but it was gone again just as quickly. He let it go. Chasing after it would do no good – he had to think about something else to make it come back.

He picked up quill and parchment. Better tell the Pride this, as unhelpful as it is.

After the near-fiasco with the curse, Remus was determined not to keep the Pride in the dark again. Informed people tended to make fewer stupid decisions. As long as the Pride was aware of how much was not known, they were less likely to go running off and try to rescue their friends themselves.

Well, except Ron. But we knew that. He was livid when Poppy made him take that potion, but Letha said if he overexerts at this point he could hurt himself, and he wouldn’t promise to stay in bed...

He finished the note and whistled for one of the owls roosting on the windowsill. A barn owl hopped inside, and Remus handed it the note, which he’d addressed to Ginny. The owl took wing and swooped out the window, and Remus returned to his place by the fire.

Fifteen minutes till moonrise, Danger reminded him.

I know.

Are we going anywhere else for it?

There’s no reason to. As long as you’re here with me.

True enough. Danger stood up and came to sit behind him, beginning to rub his shoulders. It just strikes me as a little odd.

What does?

You’ve always been shy about your change. The only time I can think of when you were all right with letting anyone but me see it was the night before Sirius’ trial, when we were in jail together.

Remus twisted to look at her. Somehow, with everything else that’s happening right now, it doesn’t seem quite as important as it used to.

xXxXx

Scared. Scared. Scared. Cold. Face hurts. Hands hurt. I want to go home!

Draco snapped into full awareness. He was sitting cross-legged on a moldy-smelling bed, his hands tied behind him, back to back and hand in hand with someone else. It wasn’t hard to guess who, not with her voice dinning into him.

I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home now...

“Guess what, Neenie, me too. Would you mind shutting up about it?” Draco tried to keep his voice from cracking, and was startled by how mean it sounded instead. A wave of hurt rolled over him. God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that...

“It’s all right,” said Hermione’s voice from behind him, and he felt her hand squeeze his gently. “I know you didn’t. But Draco?”

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“Yes, you were. I heard you.”

But did you hear me with your ears?

“Of course I heard you with my ears. How else do people hear each other?”

You’re assuming. Listen. Listen carefully. What do you hear?

Draco listened. A cold draft whistled through the room, coming in the open door and blowing out the broken window he could see when he craned his neck to look over his shoulder. He could hear his own breathing, and Hermione’s, and footsteps somewhere else in the house...

Now keep listening. You should still be able to hear all those sounds. Because you’re not hearing me with your ears. You can’t be. I’m not talking aloud.

“Then how are you talking?”

With my mind. The way Moony and Danger do, or the way we do with the chains. Try it.

“Try what?”

Think at me.

“Give me a second.” Draco closed his eyes. Could they actually be talking silently?

After I yelled at her, she answered what I was thinking, not what I said out loud. And that didn’t sound like something she’d say out loud, but it did sound like something she’d think...

Can you hear this? he thought loudly, picturing Hermione clearly in his mind and squeezing her hand as he did.

Ow ! You don’t have to shout!

Sorry. Didn’t mean to.

It’s all right. How are you feeling?

Scared. Stiff. Both separately and together. Draco opened his eyes and leaned a little forward, rolling his shoulders as best he could with his hands in their unnatural position.

Me too. How long do you think we’ve been here?

I don’t know. You’re facing the window – can you see anything?

Just glass on the floor. And sunlight coming straight in. It can’t be long till sunset.

Sunset. Draco frowned in thought. The match was supposed to end half an hour before sunset, to give Moony and Danger time to run us through a quick analysis before they had to go... you know. And it was about half an hour from being done when Luna came to get us.

So we’ve been here maybe an hour, or a little less.

Wherever here is. Draco’s gut was turning cold. Hermione, I think I know who took us. And at least part of why.

Your father?

Yeah. He looked like Dursley, but that smile gave him away. It was nasty.

So maybe the Luna who came to get us wasn’t really Luna. Maybe she was Pettigrew in disguise.

A knot in Draco’s throat untied with a rush of relief. Luna hadn’t betrayed them after all. Neenie, you’re brilliant.

I just hope the real Luna is all right. Pettigrew wouldn’t have wanted to risk her bursting in on us...

The knot retied itself, but looser. She can’t be dead. Our pendants would have reacted to it. Maybe he just knocked her out.

From behind, like he did Meghan on Halloween, so she wouldn’t see anything to be scared or worried about. He felt Hermione nod. That makes sense. But you said you know why he took us.

Same reason as always, Neenie. He wants me. Why he’d need you too, I don’t know – usually he wouldn’t have any use for a Mudblood... Draco was trying to make light of it, but the truth was he could think of any number of horrible things his father could do to Hermione.

And I’d go with him if he’d just promise not to touch her...

Does your face hurt? asked Hermione abruptly. Just under your left eye?

Yes, actually, it does. Draco ran his tongue up and down the inside of his left cheek and felt the stretch of just-healed tissue on the outside. It’s like someone cut me there, but it’s healed already. Unless it’s been a lot longer than we think it has, that means magic. Blood magic...

Blood magic. Draco – could that be why we can talk like this? Because someone did blood magic on us?

Draco frowned. I don’t know. Why would my father do a spell binding us closer together? He wants to pull me away from the Pack, not make me closer to you.

I don’t know either. But let’s get one thing straight. If he offers you any kind of deal where he’ll leave us alone forever if you’ll just go away with him, don’t take it.

Why not? I want you to be safe –

And that’s just what we wouldn’t be! Draco, he was a Death Eater . Do you really think he’s going to keep a promise?

I could get him to make an Unbreakable Vow. He couldn’t get out of that.

He’d find some way to get around it. Like resurrecting Voldemort and having him come and kill us all. Hermione sounded angry, but Draco would have bet money she was using Letha’s trick of being angry so you weren’t afraid. Draco, whatever he does to me, don’t, please don’t throw your life away. One of us has to get back.

Draco shook his head hard. I’m not leaving without you.

Damn it, don’t talk like that! It sounds really great in films, but it doesn’t work in real life! It’s like Ron’s always telling you about chess. That’s why you don’t play so well. You don’t like to make sacrifices. But sometimes you have to. And if I’m what you have to sacrifice to get out of here alive...

Hermione, I’m not leaving you with him. I wouldn’t leave my worst enemy with him –

Hermione snorted. He is your worst enemy.

Draco gave a short laugh. You have a point. But that’s not what I mean. How could I keep living, knowing the price I paid for it? No. We both get out of here, or neither.

That’s what I’m worried about. The neither part. And there’s somebody else involved in this too.

What? Who?

Harry. I got a look at my pendants, and your carving is glowing, but so is Harry’s. He must have come to see what was going on.

And got caught himself. Draco felt ill. It’s all my fault – none of this would ever have happened if I just hadn’t been there –

Would you bloody STOP! Hermione screamed into his mental ear.

Draco wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the volume or the language. Hermione never swore.

I do when I need to. And I need to now. We have to think – find some way to get out of this – and I do NOT have the time to play Clarence to your George Bailey, so knock it off right now!

All right, all right. I’ll stop. Do you have any ideas about how to get out of this, then?

No, admitted Hermione. I was hoping you did.

Sorry. When it comes to ideas, I haven’t got a twig to fly with right now. But damn it, there’s got to be something! Draco kicked at one of the disintegrating pillows in frustration, sending up a cloud of dust. His eyes began to water and his nose to itch. Uh-oh. Hang on.

To what?

Me, I guess. Draco sneezed three times in rapid succession, just missing banging his head into Hermione’s with the force of the third. Sorry.

“Awake, then,” said a cool voice from the hallway. “Excellent.”

Hermione’s hands tightened around Draco’s as Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room. Draco stared. His father was elegantly robed and perfectly coiffed, not a hair out of place, and looked overall more suited to a dinner party than to a dank, decaying house like this.

Malfoy tutted. “Do I not merit a greeting, Draco? Such an undutiful son. Five months since last we met, and you cannot even spare me the courtesy of a salutation.”

“Do you hear something, Hermione?” said Draco, looking away from the man.

Draco, don’t do this. Please. It can’t hurt you to talk to him.

What happened to “don’t listen to him”?

I meant don’t agree to anything he asks you for! All we have to do is wait, the Pack’s bound to find us soon – but I’d rather not get tortured while we’re waiting!

All right.

“You seem to be in some discomfort, my son. Allow me.” Malfoy drew a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped Draco’s eyes with it. It took all Draco’s courage not to flinch away from the man’s touch.

“Thank you, sir,” he said with only a tiny bit of sarcasm in the tone as Malfoy pocketed the handkerchief. “It’s very kind of you.”

“Not at all, my son, not at all.” Malfoy seated himself on a chair in the corner of the room, near the edge of Draco’s field of vision. “It is the very least of what I will soon be giving to you. I apologize for these unusual arrangements – I am sure it must be torturous for you, to be in such close proximity to one such as Miss Granger-Lupin...” His voice caressed Hermione’s name. “But, as you will soon understand, it was necessary.”

He thinks it’s torture to be close to you, but not to have my freaking hands tied? I think someone needs to sort out his priorities.

Will you please not make me laugh in front of him?

“Necessary, sir? I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” Malfoy stared out the window, towards the setting sun. “Of course. Because you have been lied to, Draco. Vilely lied to, and viciously used. Tell me, my son – of the two of you, yourself and the girl behind you, who would you say is the better at using magic? Who would you say has more success in lessons and the like?”

“Hermione,” said Draco without hesitation. “She’s better than I’ll ever be at everything.”

Draco!

It’s true.

“She is better than you will ever be, at everything,” Malfoy repeated slowly. “And have you never wondered why? ”

“I know why. She’s smart. She’s really smart, and she loves to learn, and she pays attention to everything. What does that have to do with me?”

I am not better than you’ll ever be!

You are so. Shush.

“It has this to do with you,” said Malfoy, leaning forward. “This so-called family of yours – this Pack – have they ever been able to explain to your satisfaction why it is that you, a child of the oldest magical bloodlines in Britain, should have less magic than the brat of a pair of Muggle tooth-pullers?”

Hermione gasped. “Don’t act so surprised, girl, of course I know who you are,” said Malfoy testily. “I make it a point to know my enemies. It makes predicting their next moves easier. So I know all about you, and your precious sister – rather curious, the way she married Lupin so soon after meeting him. One would almost think she’d had some kind of shock. Perhaps she feared for your life on some future full moon, should she fail to... satisfy her new acquaintance...”

“That’s not true!” shouted Hermione, whipping her head around. Draco leaned away from the flying hair that threatened to hit him in the face. “You’re lying!”

“Am I?” Malfoy chuckled. “But we’re rather off the subject, I fear. Or are we? Your sister interests me, little one. She never attended Hogwarts, nor was this because she refused her invitation – there was no invitation. She was a Muggle at the age of eleven, and twelve, and on upwards. Until, approximately, her twenty-first year, when she married Remus Lupin and vanished from sight. When she reemerged nearly ten years later, she seemed perfectly comfortable with magic. She owned and used a wand, and she possessed some unusual abilities.”

“Like what?” asked Draco. “Punching you in the face? That’s not so unusual. I can do it. Let me up and I’ll show you.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not yet, at any rate. You see, it is imperative that you and she remain in physical contact for the next...” Malfoy checked the time, and Draco marveled at the man’s need to playact, that he had strained what had to be very limited resources to get what looked like a real gold pocket watch. “Seven minutes. At that time, the bond will be complete, and we can proceed.”

“What bond?” asked Hermione, at the same time Draco said, “Proceed with what?”

Malfoy laughed. “I do believe I have caught your interest,” he said teasingly. “Draco, a question remains unanswered between us. Have those folk who pretend to be your parents never discussed with you why it is that this girl has more magic than you do yourself?”

“They’re not pretending to be my parents,” said Draco, scowling. “And I don’t think Hermione has more magic than I do. She just uses what she has better.”

“Oh, believe me, my son, I have examined you both carefully.” Malfoy smirked, and Draco felt Hermione shudder. “It is as I say. Have you any idea why?”

Draco shrugged as best he could. “It happens like that sometimes,” he said. “There’s no way to predict who’ll have more or better magic by looking at blood.”

“That,” thundered Malfoy, standing up, “is the lie you have been taught! See beyond the lie, Draco, see the truth! You have been robbed, robbed of your birthright! This girl has stolen your magic! ”

“I have not! ” cried Hermione furiously. “I wouldn’t! ”

“Oh, not of your own accord, perhaps, but have you never wondered from whence came your marvelous magical prowess?” Malfoy prowled around the bed, and Draco squeezed Hermione’s hands hard as he felt her leaning back against him, away from the older wizard. “Have you never pondered the improbability of such a very fine witch being born from a line that produced no other magical scions save your very – unusual – sister?”

“Blood isn’t everything,” said Hermione in a trembling voice. “I wouldn’t be a pureblood if you paid me.”

“As well,” said Malfoy lazily. “I doubt you would be willing to pay the necessary price...”

Draco felt a tide of rising panic. What’s wrong?

He’s going to touch me – he’s petting me. Down the side of my face and – wait a second – Hermione’s mind flashed from fear to fierce jubilation. Got it.

She jerked her head rapidly to one side, and Malfoy yelped.

What did you do?

Bit him. Hermione sounded very proud of herself. Right on the finger.

There was the sound of a slap. “Little bitch,” Malfoy snarled.

“That’s queen to you,” spat Hermione.

Another slap. “Hold your tongue.”

Nice going, Draco said, working to remove the grin from his face before his father came around and saw it. Really nice.

Thanks. See if you can keep him talking. Maybe act like you think he did right.

“My apologies for that, sir,” said Draco as Malfoy came around the end of the bed again, his finger wrapped in his handkerchief. “Hermione can be rather rowdy at times. But you seem to have found a good method of controlling her.”

“Is it one you favor yourself, Draco?”

Draco pouted slightly. “We’re not permitted to do such things at home, sir. She’d go crying to the adults if I did. But you were just getting to something interesting. You say Hermione’s stolen my magic to be as powerful as she has, and then you mentioned Danger. Do you think she also stole someone’s magic?”

“Without a doubt. Though ‘stole’ is less proper an appellation. Living with them, you must have noticed that she and Lupin are seldom far from one another? To the best of my knowledge, they have not been parted for so much as a full day since they were married. I believe that, out of ‘love’ or some other misguided sentiment, Lupin has extended use of his own magic to his so-beautiful mate , and she has accepted it.”

Draco frowned. “Can he do that?”

“Marriage creates a certain bond between the man and the woman who undergo it, Draco. Even a Muggle ceremony creates such a tie, but a magical wedding creates a far stronger one. Through such bonds as these, magic may indeed be shared. Though long-term sharing necessitates close contact between both parties.”

Hermione inhaled sharply. Ask if there are any other kinds of bonds that magic can be shared on. I think we’re getting somewhere.

“Are there other bonds that can allow magic to be shared, sir? I assume so, since you mentioned a bond you are creating between myself and Her... Miss Granger-Lupin.”

A ghost of a smile was beginning on Malfoy’s face. “Indeed there are such bonds, my son. Blood bonds are some of the most powerful in magic. Parents may share magic with their children, or take it from them temporarily, as many do to stop a spate of childhood accidental magic. And, of course, blood siblings may share magic. I believe that thus was your magic stolen, Draco – that your family did much as I am doing.”

“What are you doing, sir?”

“I have created between you,” announced Malfoy, “an artificial blood bond. When it is complete, you will be able to share magic as fully as siblings – no, I dare go even farther and say that the bond between you will be more like that of twins.” He shuddered artistically. “You have my most abject apologies for the indignity, Draco, but it was necessary. It was the only possible way in which I could restore to you the magic which was stolen from you so long ago.” The ghostly smile returned. “Poetic justice exists, I daresay.”

“Why do you dare, sir?”

“I have no doubt that your so-called guardians have kept you all these years out of some misguided sense of loyalty to my late wife. Had she not charged them with your keeping in return for their safe deliverance, they would likely have killed you once they had what they wanted from you.”

Oh, God, please don’t let me laugh, said Hermione desperately.

You think you’ve got problems? I can’t even crack a smile! Draco thought hard of Danger’s cries by his bedside, of the pain in her voice and Moony’s as they spoke his name, and managed a suitably grieved expression for his father’s benefit.

You idiot. A month ago, you might have convinced me. But I’ve heard it now, what they would say if they thought I was dead, and it’s nowhere near the “Thank Merlin that’s off our hands” you’d have me think it is – and that’s your fault. You’re a liar, and you always have been.

It was then that the implications of Malfoy’s statement struck him.

“Sir?”

“You may address me as Father, Draco, if you wish. It is, after all, accurate, and it would give me great pleasure.”

I don’t want to do anything that will give you pleasure, great or small.

Do it. You don’t have to mean it.

Yes, Mother. “Yes... Father. Why do you think that the Pack – my guardians, that is – why would they have killed me?”

“Because even after the blood-bond between you and the girl was broken – and skillfully broken at that, to the point where I can find no traces of it...”

Because there never was one, said Hermione scornfully, except in your twisted imagination.

“Some form of bond still existed between you, and you began to reclaim your magic slowly through it, becoming more intelligent and skilled in magic as the years passed, at her expense.” Malfoy smiled, examining his fingernails. “I shall not make that mistake.”

Draco was grateful that his father’s head was down, since he knew for a fact that an expression of pure terror currently inhabited his face. God, no, no, he can’t mean –

He does. He must. Draco, get a hold of yourself, please!

Get a hold of myself? Hermione, he’s going to kill you!

I know. I know. But I have an idea. I think there might be a way for us to get out of here. Or at least out of these ropes. But you have to do something first.

Anything. Tell me what.

Get him to tie us front-to-front, instead of back-to-back, and leave us alone for a few minutes. Can you do it?

Draco grinned inwardly. Watch me.

“You’re going to kill her,” he said in as flat a tone as he could manage, trying to ignore the gallon of ice water that seemed to have replaced everything which ought to be inside him. “Aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“I don’t suppose I can stop you.”

Malfoy laughed. “Bound as you are, without a wand, and with your marvelous family unaware of your whereabouts? I doubt you can.”

Draco let some of his fear creep onto his face. “I guess you’re right. I just wish...” He let the words trail off and looked away.

“Wish what?” Malfoy was suddenly in front of him, all concern. “Come, Draco, speak to me. If we are to be a family again, we must learn to trust one another. I will gratify any wish you may have – within reason, of course. What is it you wish?”

Draco looked directly into the man’s eyes. “I wish I could see her,” he said. “I wish we could look at each other one more time, and have a minute or two to say goodbye.” It took very little acting to summon a tear. “She does bother me a lot, but she’s still – I mean, we’ve grown up together. I’ll miss her when she’s gone.”

“It would be fitting,” said Malfoy thoughtfully. “A ceremonial farewell, bidding adieu to the last vestiges of the old life before stepping into the new. I believe it can be managed. I assume you would wish me elsewhere during this touching scene?”

“If it’s not asking too much.”

“Never, my son.”

Draco smiled faintly. “Thank you, Father.”

And I mean that like I never have before.

“Stay still, now, children,” Malfoy cautioned, drawing a wand from his robes. “Do not try to move, or the spell will be disrupted...”

Draco felt himself spinning in place, and Hermione was spinning too, her startled cry echoing once in the room, and then suddenly they were looking into each other’s eyes, their four hands clasped in front of them, cocooned in rope. Malfoy put his wand away, looking rather pleased with himself. “Five minutes,” he said coolly. “By that time, the bond will be cemented. I must tend to my cauldron in any case. Enjoy yourselves.”

He left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

All right, said Draco, taking a deep breath. What do we have to do?





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 22: Queen the Pawn (Year 3)


Chapter 22: Queen the Pawn

Minerva McGonagall had watched Albus Dumbledore face down vampires, Death Eaters, transformed werewolves, dementors, dragons, Inferi, and Lord Voldemort himself, all without ever losing his aplomb.

But here he stood in the corridor, seemingly unable to speak the words which would open the door to his office. Unable to go upstairs and tell four people that he had failed to find their children.

“Albus, they must know,” she said quietly. “And you found out something – it’s more than anyone else has done...”

“Three times, Minerva.” She could barely hear his voice. “Three times in as many years I have failed these people. They entrust their children to me, believing that I can keep them safe, and three times in three years their children have been in harm’s way, in danger of dying, here under my supposed protection. Perhaps I am too old...”

“Nonsense,” said Minerva sharply. “Pull yourself together, Albus. You’ve done things no one thought were possible – how many times do you think those children would have been endangered if you hadn’t been there? You’re an extraordinary man, but you’re still a man, and every man has his limits. Every man makes mistakes. Now go upstairs and tell those people what they deserve to hear.”

Albus straightened, lifting his head. “Yes. I shall.” He gave her a small smile. “Although the news I bear is hardly what they deserve to hear, I think you would agree. Peppermint Toad,” he said to the gargoyle.

Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress ascended to the office together.

xXxXx

“It’s better than nothing, I suppose,” said Aletha. “It certainly narrows things down a lot. But a fifty-mile radius around the Disapparition point still covers a lot of ground.”

“Teams of mixed Aurors and DMLE personnel are searching every house within the area as we speak,” said Dumbledore, sitting down at his desk. “Hogsmeade itself has been thoroughly searched, every building to which they could reasonably have access explored.”

“Reasonably?” repeated Sirius. “We’re talking about Death Eaters here, Albus. Reason was never high on their priority list.”

“Be that as it may,” said Minerva, “a more careful search was made of the buildings near the spot where Peter Pettigrew was seen a few months ago. Unfortunately, nothing was turned up there – no one had Apparated in or out within the last two hours.”

“You’ve still done a lot, Albus,” said Danger. “If I recall correctly, tracing how far someone Apparated just from studying the place they Disapparated from is supposed to be difficult verging on impossible. I’m fairly sure who came up with a way to do it, and on short notice too.”

Dumbledore smiled faintly. “I thank you, Danger. Remus, are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” Remus reached around and took Danger’s hand. “I don’t foresee any problems, if that’s what you’re asking. Not as long as we stay close.”

“Not a problem,” said Danger, joining her other hand to the clasp.

“I’ll get the note to the Pride,” said Aletha, crossing the room to pick up a piece of parchment from the stack sitting next to Remus. “Your hands probably hurt about now.”

“Not that much. But thank you.”

Aletha nodded, already writing. “Who should I address it to?”

“I’ve been sending mine to Ginny...”

xXxXx

Ginny tore the note open eagerly. “They have something!” she nearly shouted. “They didn’t go more than fifty miles from Hogsmeade – and there are Aurors and everyone else out looking in all that area now!”

“Yes!” shouted Neville, pumping his fist in the air.

Meghan squealed happily. “Luna, did you hear?” she said, sliding off the bed and running to Luna’s. “Did you hear? They know where Draco and Harry and Hermione are – or where they’re not – and they’re going to find them! They are!”

Luna didn’t answer.

“Luna?” Meghan shook the older girl by the shoulder. “Luna, are you all right?”

Still no answer.

Meghan made to touch Luna’s wrist, then stopped, looking worried. “Should I?” she asked Neville and Ginny.

“It should be safe,” said Neville. “You’re not related to her by blood. That was how the curse on Draco hurt you, through your blood. So you should be able to help her.”

Meghan took Luna’s hand. “Luna, wake up,” she said. “There’s good news, sort of, and you should hear it.”

“I heard it,” said Luna, opening her eyes. “The searchers know where they aren’t. But they don’t know where they are. And they’re looking in the wrong places.”

Ginny leaned forward. “Do you know what the right places are?” she asked carefully. Luna’s eyes looked a bit more unfocused than usual...

“I don’t think I do. Let me think about it a minute.” Luna closed her eyes again.

“Is she listening to something?” Meghan whispered to Neville.

“No, I’m trying to remember something I listened to a long time ago,” said Luna without opening her eyes. “On the train, after the dementor left. I heard a lot of different things. Things different people had to do. I think they were meant for tonight.”

Ginny held very still, not wanting to disturb Luna’s thinking. It was hard work. Mingled fear and hope kept making her want to jump up and run around the room, yelling, or else hex something, or someone. Preferably whoever had taken her friends.

“I don’t know where they are,” said Luna finally. “But someone else does. They just need to remember that they know, or have it told them a different way. And Draco and Hermione will need help.”

She opened her eyes and looked directly at Ginny. “You have to send them help. Neville can help you with it. He can make you invisible while you go up to the Tower and out to Hagrid’s and come back again. But you’d better hurry. You can only walk. You have to send them faster help.”

“What about Harry?” asked Neville. “How can we help him?”

“We can’t.” Luna looked at the next bed over. “But Ron can. Ron knows how to find him.”

“But he’s asleep!” Meghan looked as if she might cry. “He can’t tell us anything while he’s asleep!”

“So we have to wake him up,” said Ginny. “It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“He’s under a potion! He won’t wake up until it wears off, or someone gives him the antidote!”

“And there isn’t anyone here who can do that,” said Ginny ironically. “No, there’s no one here who knows about Healing potions, or the spells that Healers use to give them to people who’re asleep...”

Meghan’s expression reversed course with magical speed. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and sped down the ward.

“But what are you supposed to do?” said Neville to Ginny. “Go up to the Tower, down to Hagrid’s, and back. Why?”

“To send them help,” said Ginny, thinking hard. “Help that moves faster than I can, because I can only walk...”

And then she knew. “Got it,” she said, jumping up. “Neville, can you make me invisible to human beings but not to animals?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Because I know who’s supposed to help Draco and Hermione. And he’s not human.”

xXxXx

The Headmaster’s office had fallen into an uncomfortable silence. The portraits on the wall had ceased to pretend to sleep and were waiting for news as avidly as anyone. Minerva had her wand out and was transfiguring a piece of parchment into a Galleon and back again, over and over. Dumbledore stroked Fawkes, who crooned softly.

As Sirius passed the portrait of his great-great-grandfather for the umpteenth time, he suddenly swore loudly. Everyone, including the portraits, jumped.

“I can’t take this,” Sirius said, stalking into the center of the office. “I can’t take it anymore.” He pointed at the clock on the wall. “If there isn’t news in five minutes, I’m going out there and look for them myself.”

“Sirius, be reasonable,” said Minerva, standing up. “What could you hope to do that isn’t being done already?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t handle just sitting here and waiting. I have to do something. I have to. I can’t just sit here and wait and find out later that I could have done something, if I only tried, and now it’s too late and it’s happened already...”

Aletha got up from her chair. “This is not like James and Lily,” she said. “There’s nothing any of us could have done differently to keep this from happening.”

“Oh, really?” Sirius turned to the fireplace, looking at Remus. “Nothing any of us could have done?”

Remus looked away. “I’m sorry, Sirius,” he said very quietly. “You may never know how sorry.”

“Oh, I may never know,” Sirius mocked. “I may never know, when my godson’s out there about to die, and you’re the one who let Malfoy take him out of the castle without even having to work at it.”

“Sirius, don’t do this,” Danger warned, half-rising.

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please–”

“You will not. ”

The voice stopped everyone cold. Dumbledore was on his feet, his eyes transfixing Sirius. “This is my office, Sirius Black, and you will be courteous to the other people here or you will leave.”

“Fair enough. I’ll leave.” Sirius headed for the door and yanked it open. “And good luck finding them sitting here on your backsides!” he called over his shoulder.

The door slammed shut.

“Excuse me for a moment, everyone,” said Aletha, marching across the office. “I believe a lesson on manners is indicated.”

“Letha, it’s not important,” Remus began, but was cut off by the second closing of the door.

“I guess she thinks it is,” said Danger.

xXxXx

Half the Pride stood in front of the gargoyle which guarded the Headmaster’s office. They knew that a password would make it spring aside and allow them access. They did not know what that password currently was.

Meghan stepped forward and put her hand on the carved stone. “Please, won’t you let us in?” she said beseechingly. “We need to get inside and talk to my parents. It’s important.”

Something rumbled behind the wall. Meghan jumped back in surprise as the gargoyle sprang aside. “It worked!” she said happily. “Come on!”

“–self-centered idiot and listen to me!”

“Or not,” said Ron, looking around wildly from where he leaned on Neville. “Hide.”

The three of them and Luna scrambled into a cross-corridor just in time as the wall split open.

“I’m a self-centered idiot? Who’s sitting up there feeling sorry for himself, and who’s planning on going and actually doing something about this?” Meghan stared as her Dadfoot leapt off the spiral staircase backwards, so he wouldn’t have to stop glaring at Mama Letha.

“You know perfectly well Remus would be out there himself if he had any reasonable idea where to go!”

“Reasonable. There again with reasonable. I’m done being reasonable. It’s time to get unreasonable here, and I’m going to do it, and anyone who stands in my way can just go and–”

“Dadfoot?” said Meghan tentatively.

Her Dadfoot jumped and spun. “Pearl? What are you doing here?”

Mama Letha came to look into the corridor. “Ronald Weasley,” she said, hands on her hips. “You are supposed to be in bed.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Letha,” said Ron. “But I had to come.”

“And why exactly did you have to come?”

Ron took a deep breath. “Because I think I know how you can find them. Or at least find out where they are.”

xXxXx

Remus looked around, startled, as the door crashed open again. “Ron’s got something,” announced Sirius, levitating an embarrassed-looking Ron into one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk. “Go on, tell them.”

Ron ducked his head for a second. “I did it last year,” he said. “Without meaning to. I turned my pendants into locators. They showed us where Ginny was. One of the jewels got brighter when we got closer. So I thought someone could do that again, only with a map – because you know the general area where Harry and Hermione and Draco are, so you could hold the pendants over the map and move them and watch the light to see when it gets brighter.”

“Dowsing,” said Aletha. “Magical dowsing. It ought to work. But the jewels are one use only, and it’s a red one that’s required...”

“I’d better do it,” said Remus, standing up. “Albus, do you have a map of this area?”

One flick of Dumbledore’s wand cleared his desk, and a second conjured a large map on it. “Thanks,” said Remus, taking off his pendants. “What do I have to do, Ron?”

“Just hold them, and think about the people you want to find, and wish you had a way to find them. That’s all I did.”

Remus nodded and closed his hand around the pendants. It took no effort at all to think of his missing cubs – it was all he’d been doing for the last fifty minutes – and wishing he had a way to find them was even less work than that. Show me where they are, he willed. Lead me to them.

Red light flashed between his fingers. Quickly, Remus took his hand away and held the pendants by their chain over the map. One of the red jewels glowed with an internal light, brightening and dimming as he moved it back and forth.

“Brighter means closer, I take it, Mr. Weasley?” said Minerva, staring at the pendants in fascination.

Ron nodded. “Just like playing Hot and Cold.”

Within a few moments, Remus had the brightest area pinpointed. “Can you zoom in?” he asked Dumbledore, who tapped his wand twice on the parchment. The map vanished, to be replaced by one in a larger scale.

“Hogsmeade,” said Danger as Remus found the brightest spot again. “They’re still in Hogsmeade?”

“Not in the village itself,” said Dumbledore absently, enlarging the map. “It seems to be indicating an area a short way outside the town...”

One more enlargement brought them to a scale where they could see buildings. “This ought to do it,” said Remus, moving slowly lest he overshoot. “Closer... closer... got it!”

He dropped the pendants on top of a building sitting by itself on a hill. The red gem flared brightly, as in triumph, and went out.

Remus snatched up the chain to see where his cubs were.

xXxXx

Outside, Ginny shivered a little, wishing she’d thought to bring a jumper of her own as well as the one she clutched in her arms. But that would have taken more time, and she had to hurry.

She rounded Hagrid’s darkened hut and ran up to the paddock. “Buckbeak!” she called to the creature standing off to one side, head under his wing. “Buckbeak, wake up!”

The hippogriff’s wings flared, and his head came around, his great orange eyes fixing on Ginny. She swallowed and bowed deeply, praying he didn’t pick this moment to get into a snit. After a moment, she heard a whoosh of expelled breath and saw Buckbeak’s scaly knees bend in front of her.

Ginny straightened and ran to the hippogriff’s side. “Beautiful Buckbeak,” she said coaxingly, stroking him. “You like us, I think. But you like Draco the most. You like him because he comes down here and talks to you. You know who I mean – this boy.” She held up Draco’s jumper, the one she’d taken from his dorm. “Here, sniff. You know him.”

Buckbeak lowered his head to the jumper, inhaled several times, and crooned deep in his throat.

“That’s right, you know him. He’s in trouble, Buckbeak. He needs your help. Can you go to him? Can you fly and find him, and help him?” Ginny didn’t know how much of what she was saying would get through, but she had to try. “Go on, Buckbeak! Fly! Find Draco!”

Buckbeak opened his wings again and beat them twice, screeching. His great beak plucked at the jumper in Ginny’s hand, then turned and tugged at his neck feathers.

“What, you want this there?” Ginny could have sworn he winked at her. “You want this around your neck?” Wondering if she was losing her mind, she tied the jumper around the hippogriff’s neck. “There you go, Buckbeak. Go on, now.”

With a second, louder, screech, Buckbeak turned and galloped down the paddock, launching himself into the air at the end of it, flapping hard to gain altitude. Ginny watched him for a moment, then turned to run for the castle.

Her part was done. She only hoped it would work.

xXxXx

Lucius Malfoy shut the door of the bedroom where his son and the Mudblood girl sat and tapped all four corners of the doorframe with his wand, smirking to himself. Nothing would leave that room by the door without his permission now, and the window was much too small to allow a human access. As well, he had examined both children closely, and removed from them anything that could be used as a weapon, although he was admittedly confused as to why they both wore illusionary necklaces. Still, illusion – by its nature a thing of vision only – could not harm him.

Little fool. He thinks he has deceived me. He chuckled as he made his way down the hall. He thinks I believe that he will willingly return to me, when he has told me twice that he never will. But thanks to the wands Patroclus procured for us, some careful purchases with what gold I had, and some pilfering from Severus Snape’s stores to make up for it...

It still made him angry to think of it. The day he had tried to withdraw more gold from his Gringotts vault, only to be told that it was empty, that its entire contents had been withdrawn, withdrawn and redeposited in a vault belonging to one Remus Lupin. And then to see Lupin escorting his son around the village, laughing and talking familiarly with him, even placing a fatherly hand on the boy’s shoulder...

After the Dark Lord’s return, I believe I shall ask if I may have Lupin, Lucius mused. Him and his wife. I can teach her what a real man is like, with him to watch. And cloth-of-silver garments are always amusing. Then, at the next full moon, let the games begin – the arena filled with weapons, but only one made of silver – can she find it and kill her love in time to save herself? Or will the Beast devour Beauty in this version of the tale?

Patroclus Nott would have to be allowed a share in the spoils, though. He had been livid when he had realized that he, and his son, had both been Obliviated to remove their knowledge of Lupin’s lycanthropy. The son had been very helpful, Lucius had to acknowledge, for the first half of the year – stealing the rarer supplies Lucius needed from Severus Snape’s office, and spreading stories about Draco through the school, to put him in the right frame of mind for the Christmas present Lucius had prepared for him.

But after Christmas, he seems to have abandoned his pursuits. And Draco never mentioned my little gift. Perhaps it was misdelivered, or the first spell, to catch his interest, failed to engage. He shrugged. It matters nothing now. Unless...

Could Draco’s odd vacillations be explained by the effects of the curse Lucius had laid on the globe? Perhaps the personality he had so carefully implanted had taken partial hold of the boy’s mind, and needed only a bit of help to finish its work.

Filio Fidelius. Such a lovely phrase.

The Dutiful Son Curse would make use of the blood they shared to bind Draco to him permanently, making him the center of the boy’s world. It came directly from the ancient Romans, who had firmly believed that a child’s first and only loyalty should be to the paterfamilias, the father of his family. The paterfamilias, in turn, had the right to do anything with his children, for they belonged to him. He could marry them off, send them to war, install them in a trade...

Or kill them.

That was the use of one of the potions he was brewing now. A time-delayed poison with no antidote, rare and difficult to recognize, it would destroy the Mudblood girl’s mind immediately but allow her body to live on for several days, giving her family false hope for her, until it finally destroyed the last vestiges of her brain and killed her.

In his other cauldron, of course, was the potion that would open the newly-created link between their two minds and souls, allowing Draco to drain away the magic that was his by right. Lucius frowned at this potion as he dipped a testing flask into it. One of the books had claimed it was not actually necessary, that the link would open on its own once the binding had begun, allowing magical sharing and even mind-to-mind speech between the two so bonded.

Certainly the joining of the two bloods had been spectacular. He had made the cuts as the spell’s instructions directed, in the same place on each child – he could always remove the mark from Draco later, and he rather enjoyed seeing them branded his creations. Then he had collected a drop of each blood on a knife blade and thrust it into the fire of pine, dogwood and yew. The flames had roared up and turned blood red, and both children’s cuts had instantly become scars. This, according to the book, was the sign of a fully successful joining, one which would be as useful as a true-born blood bond, and only possible if the hearts and minds of those being joined were unopposed...

Lucius set the flask of potion aside and went to find the book. He flipped through the pages rapidly until he found the passage he wanted, then read it over carefully, and sighed in relief.

I see. I see now. The link will open on its own only if there is some currently extant magical bond between the two. And nothing of that sort exists between them – I checked it myself...

Which meant, Lucius realized, that his Christmas gift to Draco had either never arrived or never been opened. He would have been able to tell if his curse were currently active on the boy.

But it no longer matters. Direct action is the course of the day. And direct action is what I will take. In precisely...

He checked his watch again. Four minutes.

And then, with his son at his side, he would seek the Dark Lord and find him, and bring him Harry Potter. His master would rise again, greater and more terrible than ever before, and with the prophesied vanquisher instead the vanquished, no other would dare stand before them. The world would be theirs for the taking, and theirs to keep, for the Dark Lord had promised that all those who had helped to bring him to power should have their reward...

Immortality. Lucius licked his lips, tasting the sweetness of the word. I will watch my great-great-grandsons play the ancient game, and teach them how it is done, and spar with them but keep them always in awe of me, for I shall be the true paterfamilias, the Father of the Family who can never die...

The fires under the cauldrons flickered as the potions boiled and bubbled.

xXxXx

Harry’s eyes came open again. He still couldn’t move any other part of his body, but his head hurt less, and it was easier to think now. Straining his eyes downward, he managed to see it had been about forty minutes since he was last awake.

All right. Time for some serious thinking.

Goal: get out of here alive, preferably unhurt, and definitely with Draco and Hermione in the same condition.

Requirements: get out of this damned spell, find Draco and Hermione, get them loose from whatever’s been done to them, find out where we are, find a way home, and use it. All without attracting the attention of Malfoy and Pettigrew, or, if we do attract their attention, dealing with it.

I wish I had my wand. Or my dagger.

Pursuant to Combat Club rules, to avoid cheating, Harry had left his wand in his dorm. Some of the older students had grumbled about this, claiming their basic rights were being violated, but Moony had been firm – no wands, or no playing. To the cubs, he had issued a separate order – the daggers, too, must be left behind. “Just in case you forget this isn’t a real fight,” he’d said. “I’ve known it to happen.”

So Harry and Draco, and Hermione and Meghan, had dutifully removed their belts and tucked their wands under their pillows before reporting to the Slythindor mustering point. Harry could feel the shape of a wand tucked into his robes, but it was a Combat Club wand, and would only squirt dye at someone.

But I got it in Pettigrew’s eyes when he was masquerading as Luna, and that worked pretty well. Or if I can get it into someone’s mouth...

Not important right now, Harry. Think about important things. Like getting loose from this spell.

On first blush, his prospects weren’t good. Spells like the Body-Bind were supposed to be impossible to break from the inside.

But so are Memory Charms. And I did one of those once. I just wanted it to break hard enough, and it broke.

Still, I think I need something more here. Something strong, powerful, but simple. Something to let me go, to unlock this spell...

The word triggered a memory. “Basic unlocking is three, three, five,” said Professor Vector’s precise voice. “All together, now – three, three, five...”

Arithmancy . The unlocking sequence. Could that work on this? You’re supposed to do it with a wand, but maybe it would work without one.

Harry closed his eyes, the better to remember. I’d need to do three of one motion, three of another, and five of a third. Unfortunately, my motion skills are kind of limited right now...

Wait. I can open and close my eyes. That’s two, right there! Left eye, right eye! Perfect! What for the last one, though?

He took a deep breath, and just like that, had his answer. Breathing. Big, deliberate breaths. So, left eye three times, right eye three times, and then five breaths, and that should break the spell.

I hope.

Harry blinked several times to clear his eyes, then began. Ceremoniously, he lowered and raised his left eyelid, once, twice, three times. Then the right, once, twice, three times.

Now the breaths.

Breathing in and out five times, slowly, left him with plenty of time to worry.

Is this really going to work? Should I have tried something else?

One.

Can I even do wandless magic? I’m only thirteen...

Two.

I don’t even know if Draco and Hermione are here with me. Or where here is.

Three.

But this has to work. I have to get free of this. I have to.

Four.

So I will. I always do what I have to.

Five.

It’s a family trait.

Harry exhaled the fifth breath extra slowly, almost afraid to try to move, in case it hadn’t worked.

Well, I have to move sometime...

He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth.

I think...

He tried a smile. His face responded perfectly to his mind.

Yes...

He rolled over and sat up, stiffly but with no other trouble.

YES!

He stretched carefully, a bit at a time, working the stiffness out of his muscles. I have to be ready for anything. Running, fighting, hiding...

Footsteps sounded in the hall.

Hiding sounds best right now.

Quickly, Harry lay back down in the same position he’d held for the last hour. He’d hide in plain sight until the person passed by, being just what he was expected to be – a helpless prisoner...

But instead of passing by, the person turned in at the door of the room.

Wormtail. Harry tensed up as he saw the small, hunched silhouette, and again as the man came into the candlelight, staring down at him.

Two and a half years in Azkaban had robbed Peter Pettigrew of much of his fat. The face Harry remembered as being so nervous was alight with a strange, fiendish glee. From within his robes, Pettigrew withdrew a wand.

I thought they weren’t supposed to have wands...

“I always wanted to do this,” he said, staring at the wand. “I always wanted to, but I never got the chance. I wanted to do it to James, but he died before I got the chance. I didn’t think that was fair. The Dark Lord promised I’d have my revenge.” He looked down at Harry, a thin smile beginning on his face. “You’ll have to do instead. But we can’t have Lucius horning in on the party, no, we can’t have that. Silencio ! ”

Wormtail waved the wand around the room, and all the little noises Harry had been hearing from elsewhere in the house ceased. He tensed even further, unable to stop himself, preparing for what was almost certainly coming. Death Eaters love the Unforgivables...

“Poke!” said Wormtail, jabbing the wand into Harry’s shoulder.

“Poke!” Another jab, this one in the back.

I don’t believe this. Harry allowed a disbelieving smile to spread over his face, since Wormtail was behind him. Just have to wait until he gets around to my front again...

“Poke, poke, poke, poke, poke!” chanted Wormtail, giggling like a girl as he prodded Harry with the wand. “Oh, and we can’t forget the most important place of all, can we? Can we?” He skipped around Harry’s feet and aimed the wand at a very private place.

I don’t think so.

Harry swept his feet around, knocking Wormtail to the floor, and scrambled up in the same motion, diving on the older wizard. Within seconds, he had Wormtail pinned, one hand over his mouth, and the wand was in his hand, its point resting against Wormtail’s throat.

“Poke,” he hissed, digging it in slightly.

Wormtail made a whimpering noise.

“Quietus, ” said Harry, wand still aimed at Wormtail’s throat. He stood up and backed away. “Finite Incantatem, ” he said, flicking the wand around the room to remove the Silencing Charm.

“Why – why did you do that?” whispered Wormtail, his eyes widening as he realized he couldn’t speak any louder.

“So no one sneaks up on us,” said Harry, advancing on Wormtail again, stopping just out of easy grabbing range, wand aimed directly at Wormtail’s chest. He knelt down, then sat on one hip, never allowing the wand to leave its target. “Now. Give me one good reason I should let you live.”

“The little girl,” Wormtail gabbled sotto voce. “Meghan. Sirius’ daughter. I never wanted to take her – I wouldn’t have hurt her – I wouldn’t have let Lucius have her...”

“Right,” said Harry skeptically. “How did you get onto the grounds?”

“An illusion spell. It stands up to more than a glamour charm, but it’s easier than Polyjuice Potion. And it lasts longer. Up to three hours if you do it right. You need a piece of the person you’re disguising yourself as – hair or nails or skin – we had someone helping us, a boy, a student, I don’t know his name, but he would leave us notes with hair inside them. I was him the first time, on Halloween. Lucius was him yesterday.”

“How did you get in yesterday?”

“In his pocket – the boy’s pocket – I changed and climbed inside...” Wormtail’s eyes darted around the room.

“Don’t even think about changing now,” said Harry, the wand never wavering. “I’m the fastest in my class, and I could get you before you were finished. How did you escape from Azkaban?”

“As a rat. I got out when the door was opened, then waited until there were no dementors in the hallway to free Lucius...”

“How did you transform? There were wards on your cell.”

“They were only on the inside of the walls,” said Wormtail, and to Harry’s disconcertment, he giggled again. “Only on the inside, and I made a hole... I chipped the rock, day after day, week after week, until I had a hole. It was big enough to get little pieces of me into it – I could transform bit by bit, squeezing a little more of my human self in every day and changing, until one day there was enough room for all of me...” His giggles escalated madly.

“Stop that,” said Harry. “Where are Draco and Hermione?”

“They’re here – in this house – upstairs. They’re not hurt, at least I don’t think so – it hasn’t been long enough yet – Lucius had to let the spell finish before he could kill the girl...”

Harry’s heart did a sort of quick-step double beat, but his hand stayed steady – he’d been the best of the Pride at keeping a wand on target no matter what, and Padfoot and Moony had come up with some amazing distractions. “What spell?”

Wormtail explained. Harry wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sick up. Malfoy’s bloody insane. But we knew that.

“All right,” he said when Wormtail had finished. “Close your eyes.”

Wormtail looked terrified. “Harry – you wouldn’t – you wouldn’t really – Sirius let me live...”

“Shut up.” Harry stared Wormtail down, imagining that he could see into the other wizard’s mind through his watery blue eyes. “Yeah, he let you live. Maybe he shouldn’t have. But he did. You know why?”

“N-n-no...”

“I think you do. He told you at your trial. Think really hard. Maybe you’ll remember.”

Wormtail shook his head hard. “I can’t... I can’t remember...”

“He didn’t want to have your death on his conscience,” said Harry, recalling it as he spoke. The way Padfoot had held Meghan in one arm and put his other around Harry, holding both his children close to him, and the things he had said. “He didn’t want to be any more like you than you had to. You killed twelve people, and handed over three others to Voldemort–” He got a malicious pleasure out of seeing Wormtail shudder at the name. “You did all that for yourself. So your worthless little life could go on. Because you don’t have anyone else, do you? You had friends once, but you threw them all away for your Dark Lord.”

Wormtail’s mouth opened and closed, but he couldn’t seem to muster up anything to say.

“Padfoot didn’t want to live his life knowing that something he did, or something he didn’t do, killed even one person. Even you.”

“B-but you, Harry...” Wormtail managed to choke out. “What will you do...”

“You’ll know in a minute,” said Harry coldly. “Now close your eyes, or I’ll close them for you.”

Trembling, whimpering, Wormtail closed his eyes. Harry stood up, holding the wand on target, and backed away across the room.

“Petrificus Totalus, ” he whispered.

Wormtail jerked once as the spell hit, then was entirely still. Harry tucked the wand into his waistband and hurried back across the room. Getting a hold of Wormtail’s collar, he hauled the man into the center of the room, where he himself had been a little while before, and peered cautiously into the hall. No one was in sight.

Damn it. I forgot to ask where we are. Well, I’m not taking the spell off to find out. I’ll just find Draco and Hermione, we’ll take out Malfoy, and then we’ll get out of here.

He adjusted the candle so its light wouldn’t immediately reveal that Wormtail and not Harry now lay helpless in this room. Then he bent over Wormtail.

“Padfoot let you live,” he said quietly. “So will I. Call it a second chance. But you’re running low. If we ever meet again, I might not be so nice.”

Turning away, he slipped out of the room, testing every board before he stepped on it in case it squeaked, looking for a window, a door, or the stairs, and praying he didn’t unexpectedly run into Lucius Malfoy.

He’d done the impossible once already. Now he just had to do it again.

xXxXx

Animagus.

What do you mean? Wait – Draco stared at Hermione. You want to do your first change here?

It ought to work. Hermione sounded like she was trying to convince herself. I’ve taken the potion, and I know the incantation, I’ve known it for weeks, I just haven’t had the courage to try it. But I’ll try it now. And it will work. You’ll see.

But what will it do? Draco looked down at their hands and could have kicked himself. Of course – the ropes are tied around your human wrists. They’d fall off cat paws. As long as they’re not magical.

I don’t think they are. It’s just that there’s so much of them, and they’re holding our hands so tightly, that we’d never have a chance to get away without magic.

I hope you’re right.

I’m sure I’m right. Feel. Hermione wiggled her hands. There’s loose space in here. Not much, but it’s here. A magical rope would have closed down around us by now.

All right. Draco took a deep breath, focusing on calm. He needed to be calm, so that Hermione would be calm, so that she could accomplish this impossibly advanced magical feat and free herself, so that she could free him, so that they could both escape, assuming his father hadn’t somehow charmed the door to keep them in here even if they could remove the ropes...

This isn’t helping.

Hermione looked closely at him. You know, that is a scar on your face. On your left cheek. It’s about an inch long, straight up and down.

You have one too. It looks just like that.

I wonder if he had to do it the same for both of us to make us twins?

Probably. Neenie?

Yeah?

I like being twins.

I like it too.

If we get out of this –

When.

Fine. When we get out of this, can we still be twins?

Hermione nodded briskly. And you can be the only person who’s allowed to call me Neenie, and drive Harry and Ron up the wall.

Draco laughed aloud. I like that.

But first we have to get out of this. And that means I should be standing up. Cat legs don’t bend this way. Help me out?

With a little squirming, a little leaning, and a little grunting, Hermione worked her legs around, wincing as circulation returned to her feet. When she could feel again, she stood up on the other side of the bed, leaning forward so that her hands still rested on the bed inside their rope cocoon. I think I’m ready, she said uncertainly.

I know you’re ready. Draco knew how this worked – if he showed any signs of nerves or worry, Hermione’s courage would fail, and they wouldn’t get out of this. He had to be steady as a rock for her. But he could do that.

She was his twin. He wouldn’t let her down.

Go ahead, he continued. I’m listening.

Hermione closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. All right. Here goes.

She began to recite, each word carefully and deliberately articulated. Reno mea adsimile curalium, argilla, et merula est.

Draco felt an odd prickling against his hands, and stared as Hermione’s face sprouted fur, fur which grew in blotches of orange, white, and black...

Well, that is what she just said.

Celeritas et decor mea non pare est.

There was no visible change for this sentence, but with his mind in contact with hers, Draco could feel the changes there. Neenie’s brain was beginning to alter, her reflexes to change. This mind belonged to a body that could run all day and never tire, walk a tightrope and never fall.

Mea denses et unguis catus sunt, atque ego sum.

Now she was developing the hunter’s mind, and a body to go with. Draco watched as she pulled her lips back from her teeth, which were becoming sharper by the second, and winced as claws began to dig into his hands. Finish up, Neenie... come on, last sentence...

Hermione took a deep breath, although she wasn’t speaking aloud. Felis sum qui solus ambulat, sed omne loci idem mihi non sunt.

I am the cat who walks by herself, Draco translated, but not all places are alike to me.

Hermione’s body shrank, her clothes began to disappear, her face changed shape and her ears migrated. Draco watched it all in fascination.

She’s a paradox. A cat with a home, a Pride to take care of, but one to take care of her as well...

Hermione scrabbled with her back paws against the bedclothes and got her rear end up onto the bed just in time for Draco to watch her tail sprout, long and graceful. She sat down on the edge of the bed, looking nervous.

“It’s done,” Draco whispered aloud. “It’s done. You did it – Neenie, you can look! You did it!”

I did it? Neenie opened her eyes. I did it! I did it! Draco, I did it! I’m an Animagus!

“I see. I see you. Now try taking your paws out.”

Carefully, Neenie withdrew her dainty paws from the confining rope, then looked at him triumphantly. After a moment, puzzlement seemed to creep onto the feline face.

Draco frowned. “Are you trying to talk to me?”

Neenie nodded hard.

“I don’t hear anything.”

Neenie rolled her eyes.

“I don’t get it. Moony and Danger can talk from anywhere.”

Neenie frowned cat-style, pulling her lips back, then brightened. She padded quickly around to Draco’s side and laid a velveted paw on his exposed wrist. How’s this?

Draco sighed in relief. Loud and clear. You?

The same. I guess we have to touch.

Well, that’s better than nothing. Can you change back?

Probably, but why?

Draco lifted his hands, which were still bound. I’d like to get loose at some point tonight...

Oh, right. Sorry. Hold on. Neenie leapt lightly off the bed and disappeared. A bit of scrabbling and two thumps later, the human Hermione appeared above the bed and began untying knots.

“The return spell is a lot easier,” she said. “Just ‘Reditio ipse .’”

“That’s good.” Draco squirmed free of the last loop and started rubbing his wrists. “Well, there’s that done. What now?”

Hermione shook her head. “I was hoping you’d have an idea.”

“I’m not saying I don’t. Let’s see if we can tell where we are.” Draco stood up and went over to the window.

xXxXx

“The Shrieking Shack,” breathed Minerva. “They’re in the Shrieking Shack – the one building in Hogsmeade we never checked – it’s been abandoned for years...”

The association appeared in Remus’ mind again, but this time it didn’t flee the instant he noticed it. Abandoned. Long-abandoned prison of youth –

It means the Shrieking Shack! Danger almost shouted. You have to go back there – willingly – or you will at some point tonight – wait here. I’ll get it. She ran for the fireplace.

“Where’s she going?” asked Sirius, staring after her.

“Sibyll Trelawney made another prophecy,” said Remus quickly. “Ron witnessed it, we were able to get a copy from his memories. Danger’s gone to get it now.”

“What is it about?” asked Aletha.

“We think it’s about tonight.” Remus slid his pendants back over his head and stared down at the little ink drawing of the Shrieking Shack. He’d never wanted to go back there, for any reason... and there had been lines in the prophecy about spilling blood and wreaking havoc...

Danger’s here. It won’t happen.

But he kept thinking about how nice some blood would taste, particularly some blood with the name Malfoy attached to it...

It must be getting close to moonrise.

A check of the clock revealed he had four minutes left. No surprise, then. But I can’t bite him, there’s too much risk, if I infect him I’ll be exposed...

Coming back, said Danger dizzily inside his head. In the Floo now...

“Here she comes,” said Remus, just as the fire turned green. Danger stumbled out, shook her head violently, dislodging a cloud of ashes, and walked quickly across the office, handing the scroll to Dumbledore.

“On the night of the willing return to the long-abandoned prison of youth, the impossible will happen, three times over, ” Dumbledore read aloud. “Souls shall join against the darkness, the faithful three will ride again, and five shall spill their blood upon the ground... revenge and mercy wreak havoc alike, as an ancient lie becomes truth... on that night, the impossible shall come to pass... ”

“Willing return to prison of youth being you, Remus, going back to the Shrieking Shack?” Aletha questioned.

“That’s what I think,” said Remus. “But I’d never make it now. I’d have to stop and transform partway there, and that’s no good...”

“But we don’t have to stop,” said Sirius, grinning. “Letha and I. We can go right now.”

“I will send word to the Aurors,” said Dumbledore, standing up. “They should arrive within a few minutes.”

“Tell them to hurry,” said Aletha, following Sirius to the door. “Or there won’t be anything left.”

“Bash ‘em, Dadfoot,” said Meghan, with a smaller version of Sirius’ grin decorating her face. “Bash ‘em good for me.”

“I will, Pearl. You all be good now,” Sirius told the Pride. “And maybe we’ll let you kick them a few times.”

Ron looked interested.

“Stop giving them ideas,” said Aletha firmly. The door closed behind her. Dumbledore had already left by the fireplace.

“I’ll take them back to the hospital wing,” said Minerva. “You two stay here.”

“Just for a few minutes,” said Danger. “Then we’re heading out.”

“Good luck,” said Neville, standing up.

“Good luck,” echoed the rest of the Pride as they followed Minerva out the door.

And we end up being alone anyway. Danger smiled. Funny how things work out.

Just don’t assume anything, Remus warned her, sitting down in the chair Ron had vacated. They’re not dead yet, but a lot can happen in a few minutes...

Well, you’re a regular little ray of sunshine.

I’m just trying to be realistic. Just because we know where they are is no guarantee we’ll get them back safely...

Have you ever known Sirius to fail?

Do you really want me to answer that?

No. Answer this. Have you ever known Sirius and Letha to fail, when they went after something together?

Remus considered the question. No, he said finally. Anything they work together on seems to come off well.

And they’re working together on this. What does that tell you?

Sirius is a very changeable man?

We knew that.

So we did. Remus reached over and pulled Danger into the chair with him. And we also knew that the best way to ease before-moonrise pains is skin-to-skin contact, did we not?

We did.

And the best way to facilitate skin-to-skin contact is the removal of clothing...

Mmmm .

“Hmph,” said Phineas Nigellus. “Disgusting.”

A snap of Remus’ fingers produced a curtain of fire in front of the old wizard’s portrait.





Dealing with Danger

Chapter 23: The Faithful Three (Year 3)


Chapter 23: The Faithful Three

“Letha?”

“Yeah?” They were outside now, running across the lawns towards the Whomping Willow.

“I’m sorry. About earlier.”

“We’ll let it go for now. Call it... temporary insanity due to stress.” Aletha drew her wand without breaking stride and aimed a spell at the knot on the Willow’s trunk. It went wide, and she swore. I used to be able to hit what I aimed at...

But I don’t usually shoot running. Or scared.

Sirius nailed the knot with his first spell. The Willow froze.

“I see you’re back on track,” said Aletha, ducking under the motionless branches.

“In the flesh and ready to kick some arse.” Sirius followed her down the hole and into the passage. Once inside, he whisked a hand across his throat, indicating silence was the order of the day. Aletha nodded and pulled out her chain, which Sirius quickly threw over his head. We don’t know what we’re going to find, he said through it. Better be ready for anything.

They’re not dead. We would have felt that. Aletha rubbed her pendants, wishing she could will warmth into them, force them to say that her cubs were all right, no longer close to death –

And then she noticed something. Sirius, look!

What? Sirius took the pendants from her without stopping, continuing down the low, earthen passage. Letha, I don’t see a change – no, hang on – it’s Harry’s, isn’t it? Relief rolled off him, tempered still with worry but lighter than his emotions had been for the last hour. It’s not nearly so bright any more. It’s still lit, but it’s gone down to almost as dim as Draco’s.

And Hermione’s isn’t nearly as bright anymore either. It’s as if the danger’s passing somehow.

They must be doing something, said Sirius, grinning. They’re not just sitting around and waiting for us to come find them – they’re fighting back.

As long as they’re not doing anything stupid that would put them in more danger, said Aletha darkly. Sometimes sitting and waiting is the smartest thing to do...

Well, they won’t have to do anything much longer. Because we’re going to find them, and get them home, and catch the maniacs responsible for this.

Amen. And then maybe we can have normal lives.

Sirius snorted. Define “normal.”

Good point. Aletha looked around at the walls of the passage and felt a twinge of fear – she wasn’t quite claustrophobic, but she didn’t care for small spaces much. We aren’t quite what most people would call normal. But I mean without having anyone after us.

I don’t think I remember a life without having anyone after us. First we were in hiding, then we were famous, then Harry’s had Voldemort chasing him in two separate incarnations, and now Draco and his father... Sirius sounded thoughtful. I think I’d be bored by a normal life at this point.

Well, you’ll have to learn to deal with a normal life, if you want to keep a normal wife.

What did I do to deserve this? Sirius moaned mentally. Trapped in an underground passage with a woman who makes terrible puns...

Aletha kicked him gently in the back of the leg. Trapped indeed. Shut up and keep moving.

Yes, ma’am.

xXxXx

“It looks familiar,” said Hermione, staring out the broken window, brushing her hair out of her face as the draught blew it forward. “I’ve seen it before, but not like this – not from this angle, I don’t think...”

Draco, rubbing a cramp out of his leg, noticed something on the floor amid the shards of window glass. It was a small rock, a pebble really. “Look at this,” he said, picking it up. “I guess someone threw it to break the window.”

Hermione took the rock from him and tossed it in her hand. “Window, first floor,” she murmured. Then a delighted expression broke over her face, and she snatched Draco’s hand. I know where we are! she shouted into his mind. I threw this, last Hogsmeade visit but one! We’re in the Shrieking Shack!

Ow . Draco rubbed his forehead, but he had a smile on his face to match Hermione’s. You’re right. That’s Hogsmeade out there – we’re not ten minutes from Hogwarts, if we can get out of here...

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Getting out. This window’s too small for us, and I don’t trust the door.

Nor do I. But the window’s only too small for me. Not for you. And cats always land on their feet, don’t they?

Hermione gaped at him. You want me to – to jump out the window and leave you here?

Neenie, it’s the best plan we have. You can run back to Hogwarts, tell them where we are, bring them back here –

And by that time, you’ll be gone! He’ll have taken you somewhere else, and I’ll never see you again! Her fear for him colored every word, and suddenly she hugged him hard. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t ever want to lose you.

I know. And I don’t want to lose you either. Draco disengaged gently from the hug. But a few minutes ago, you were the one telling me that “I’m not leaving without you” sounds great in films, but it doesn’t always work in real life. You have to go, Neenie. It’s the only chance for either of us. And you have to go now, before he comes back.

Oh, Draco – Hermione pressed his hand hard. Be careful!

I’ll do my best. You’d better change.

Hermione shut her eyes and began to recite. It didn’t take as long this time – within about thirty seconds, Draco could lean down and pick up ten pounds of cat, cradling her in his arms. At least you cleared the window pretty well with that rock, he said. There aren’t any really big pieces left in the frame.

Are you going to throw me? Neenie peered at the windowsill, littered with shards. I don’t want to walk on that.

I can do that. Ready?

No. Do it anyway.

Draco rolled his eyes and rearranged his grip, preparing to toss her gently out through the opening. You have to let go of me, he said, realizing what the little prickles on his arm were. No claws.

Spoilsport, grumbled Neenie as the prickles disappeared.

One, two – Draco broke off, staring out the window. What in the name of –

Something very large was flying directly towards the house. The setting sun was directly behind it, so Draco could only see it in silhouette, and it was front-on to him, meaning there wasn’t much to go on. Neenie? Can you smell anything?

No, the wind is the other way – but it’s not Letha, it’s built wrong, it’s stockier and its neck isn’t as long –

Draco backed away warily as the thing got closer. For a moment, the twins watched gray wings beating outside the window. Then a large beak poked in.

“Rawwk?”

xXxXx

Lucius looked up from his reading. What was that?

Quickly, he slipped two sealed flasks of a knock-out-vapor potion into his pocket and gulped down a measure of the antidote. If they are trying to escape, I can stop them without being incapacitated myself.

He started down the hall towards the room where the children were imprisoned. It has been more than long enough in any case...

xXxXx

No, said Neenie in disbelief. It can’t be...

“Buckbeak?” breathed Draco, moving closer. “Buckbeak – it is you!” He reached out the window and scratched around the hippogriff’s beak as Buckbeak beat his wings to stay more or less level.

“Awwrrr,” said Buckbeak happily, leaning into the scratch.

“Looks like your ride’s here,” Draco said to Neenie, curled in his other arm. “He’s even got something tied around his neck you can hold onto. Here you go...”

It’s yours, said Neenie as Draco held her out the window so that she could attach herself to the woolen thing tied around the hippogriff’s neck. It’s one of your jumpers, one Danger made for you. It smells like you all over. Someone must have given it to Buckbeak and told him to come find you.

She arranged herself on the hippogriff’s back and concentrated, and Buckbeak squawked again as the weight on his back suddenly increased twelve-fold. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” she said aloud, fastening one hand in the jumper and squeezing Draco’s with the other. “I love you.”

“You too.” Draco pressed her hand once more, then let it go.

“How touching.”

Draco whirled. His father stood in the doorway, looking at him in genteel surprise. “More resourceful than I thought, it seems,” he said, stepping into the room. “But no matter. Move aside, Draco.”

“No.” Draco planted his back against the window frame. “I won’t.” Go, he willed Hermione. Go, get out of here – I’m buying you all the time I can –

“As I suspected. Your seeming conversion was an act.” Lucius smiled. “When you had so often told me that your first loyalty was now to the band of animals who raised you, was I to believe that you had so readily seen the light and returned to humanity?” He drew his wand. “So I must treat you as an animal for a time, I fear. Teach you who is your master. You will thank me for it one day, believe me...”

I won’t go down without a fight. Draco pulled the Combat Club wand from within his robes, painfully aware it would do nothing but spray dye where he pointed it –

Unless I can surprise him by exploding it in his face...

Lucius laughed. “You think I would have left you with a weapon, even had you possessed one? Do you plan to fight me with a false wand? Or perhaps strangle me with your illusionary necklace?”

“Illusionary necklace? What are you talking about?”

“The chain you seem to wear around your neck,” said Lucius, gesturing with his left hand.

“I don’t seem to wear it, I do wear it. It’s real.”

“Spare me,” said Lucius impatiently. “The chain can be seen, but not touched, therefore it is an illusion. Now will you move away from that window or must I force you?”

Seen but not touched... the Slytherin gift...

In that instant, a plan unfolded in Draco’s mind. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Hermione and Buckbeak were still there, hovering, anguished indecision on Hermione’s face. Draco slipped his left hand behind his back as he turned his head back into the room.

“I’ll move,” he said, feeling Hermione’s hand against his. Go down and out a little from the window and stay there, he sent in one frantic burst before he stepped forward. “See how nicely I’m moving?”

“I do.” Lucius looked pleased, then surprised, then a little worried as Draco kept advancing on him. “Stop,” he said, brandishing the wand. “Stop!”

“What are you afraid of? You’re the one with the wand.” Draco took one more step, feeling the tip of his father’s wand against his chest. “There. I’ve stopped.”

This had better work, or I am so dead...

Draco lifted his Combat Club wand to his mouth. “Dye output max, go in five,” he muttered to it, then kissed it ceremoniously, swapped it end for end, and offered it to Lucius. “My wand, sir.”

Lucius accepted it from him suspiciously and quickly flung it aside. But his attention was still distracted for a split-second, and that was all Draco needed. He closed his hand around his father’s wand where it met his chest and thought hard at his pendants. Slytherin jewel, activate!

Lucius whipped his head back to face Draco, saw what he was doing, and tried to pull his wand away –

His fingers passed through it as if it was made of air, and it remained in Draco’s hand –

Heart pounding, Draco whirled on his heel and dashed towards the window, catching glimpses through it of waving wings –

I’m out of my mind –

He jumped his hardest, passing through the wall like a ghost, and saw Hermione and Buckbeak three feet too high and much too far out, and the ground below him, coming up fast – Hermione’s scream echoed in his ears, along with the sound of a wand exploding behind him –

He slammed into gray feathers, the impact knocking all the breath out of him, and felt Hermione’s hands close around his arms with desperate strength. “Got you!” she gasped out, clutching at him. “Buckbeak side-slipped to catch you – are you all right?”

“Fine,” Draco panted, clinging to the jumper knotted around Buckbeak’s neck with all his might. “Just fine. I even got his wand.”

“Don’t drop it,” said Hermione. “Here, I’ll move back...” She scooted backwards a little more and helped Draco pull himself up into a proper riding position on Buckbeak’s back in front of her. They looked back at the window but could only see vague shadows within. Then a voice shouted something unintelligible and an object came flying out towards them, smashing on the ground, which was now only a few feet below them.

“Gee up, Buckbeak,” said Draco quickly, slapping the hippogriff’s shoulder. Buckbeak took a deep breath, his wings swept down and up again, and they were soaring upwards, towards the stars which were beginning to become visible.

We did it, whispered Hermione’s voice inside his mind as she laid her head on the back of his neck, her hair flying this way and that in the confusion of the draft Buckbeak’s wings made and the prevailing winds, which were from behind them. We did it – we really did it – we got away! Both of us! And – wait – Draco felt her fumbling with something behind him. Draco, do you feel it? Do you feel it?

Do I feel what?

Our pendants! They’re not cold anymore, and nothing’s glowing at all – nobody’s in danger! Harry must have got away too! We’re all going to be all right!

Draco felt Hermione’s joy surging through him, and returned it with interest. Better than all right, he said. Do you realize what my dear father has just done?

No. What?

He’s made himself father to a Muggleborn! He’s my father, and you’re my twin sister – so he must be your father too!

Dear old Dad, said Hermione, giggling. And that would make him Danger’s father too, and Moony’s father-in-law! Do you think he’ll give the bride away if they ever get magically married?

Draco burst out laughing at the image she sent – Lucius Malfoy, in sleek black dress robes, soberly shaking hands with Moony, putting Danger’s hand in his, and saying, “Do right by her, son.” Somehow I don’t think so, he said. It would be more like this.

He sent her an image out of an old Western movie – Lucius dressed like a farmer, running cowboy-Moony off his farm with a shotgun, while Danger, in a gingham dress, wrung her hands on the front porch, looking sweet and helpless.

Don’t DO that! I’m going to fall off! Hermione was laughing so hard she had to hold onto him with both arms. You’re awful!

I try. Draco patted Buckbeak on the side of the neck as the hippogriff yawned. I do try.

xXxXx

The first thing Sirius heard as he climbed out of the passage into the Shrieking Shack was Harry’s voice, shouting, but not in pain or fear.

“Expelliarmus ! ”

“Harry?” Sirius bellowed as Aletha scrambled out behind him.

“Upstairs!” came the answer. “Turn right!”

Sirius ran for the stairs – he knew perfectly well where they were, even after all this time – and took them three at a time, emerging onto the top floor to see something that banished the previous hour of fear from his mind.

Harry was standing in the hallway, holding his wand perfectly steady and trained on Lucius Malfoy, who had his hands in the air and was covered in what looked like Gryffindor Combat Club dye.

“Draco or Hermione must have blown up their wand on him,” said Harry without turning around. “I don’t know where they are – Wormtail said they were up here, but I haven’t seen them...”

“They’re safe,” said Aletha, coming to the top of the stairs. “Their carvings have stopped glowing.”

“Then they must have got away. Were you trying to hit them with something?” Harry asked Malfoy, who only glowered at him. “He was about to throw something out the window,” Harry continued as Sirius came up beside him, pointing his own wand at Malfoy. “It went out the window anyway when I disarmed him, but I probably ruined his aim.”

“Good work,” said Sirius warmly, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Very good work.”

“Where’s Wormtail?” asked Aletha.

“Downstairs, under the Body-Bind. I did that too.”

“I’ll get him,” said Aletha, and Sirius heard her feet going back down the stairs. He couldn’t take his eyes off Harry, nor could he keep from grinning. His godson, not yet fourteen, had captured two Death Eaters, all by himself...

Merlin’s beard, he’s amazing. What an Auror he’ll make.

“Here, let’s get him taken care of,” he said. “You can put your hands down now, but do it slow,” he said to Malfoy. “And hold them out in front of you.”

Glaring at him, Malfoy complied, and Sirius quickly conjured ropes around his wrists. No need to do his feet. He can walk back. And no need to gag him – who’s he going to shout for?

“So what were you throwing out the window?” he asked Malfoy conversationally.

Malfoy looked away, disdaining to reply.

“All right, it’s no polish off my wand. You do realize what’s going to happen to you now. Escaping from Azkaban is pretty much automatic Dementor’s Kiss.”

“And I can’t think of a nicer bloke to get it,” remarked Harry. “Except maybe Wormtail. Do you know what he was doing to me?”

“Is it something that’s going to make me want to hurt him?”

“Depends on how good a sense of humor you have.”

“Where you’re concerned, I have no sense of humor at all.”

“You will with this. He was poking me.”

Sirius frowned. He didn’t like the sound of this. “With what?”

“His wand.”

Sirius stared at Harry. “Poking you with his wand?”

“Yeah – I was expecting him to curse me, but no, he wanted to poke me. And he did. And he kept on going ‘Poke, poke, poke!’ Bit annoying, really.”

Sirius shook his head. Sounds like Wormtail’s really lost it...

“Sirius, you ready up there?” called Aletha from the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve got Wormtail, and he’s ready to go walkies.”

Sirius snickered. “Are you ready to go walkies, Lucy darling?” he asked in an old-lady falsetto, making Harry laugh. “Come on now, walkies right out here... you go on ahead,” he added to Harry. “Stay out of reach.”

xXxXx

They were still laughing when Draco began to feel it. A quaver in Buckbeak’s wingbeat, a hesitation, as if the great animal had forgotten how to fly. “Come on, Buckbeak,” he said, patting the hippogriff’s back. “You can do it.”

Buckbeak yawned again, hugely. “I don’t like this,” said Hermione from behind Draco. “I think something’s wrong with him. Maybe we should land. It can’t be far to Hogwarts now.”

Draco squinted at the ground. “It’s so dark I can’t see anything. But all right. Down, Buckbeak.”

The hippogriff yawned once more, then set his wings and began to glide downwards in spirals. Hermione stroked his flank. “Clever Buckbeak,” she said. “You were so good to come and find us.”

With a set of thuds as his feet hit packed dirt, Buckbeak landed, wobbling slightly as he stood. Draco and Hermione scrambled off his back, and the hippogriff immediately tottered a few steps and fell over.

“Oh no!” Hermione ran to him. “Oh no, oh no, what will Hagrid say?” She laid her hand on him, then exhaled in relief. “He’s alive,” she said. “Just... sleeping, I think.”

“Maybe whatever fell out the window was a sleeping potion,” said Draco. “And Buckbeak got a breath of it.”

“Maybe.” Hermione stood up. “I think I know where we are,” she said. “It’s not far from the gates. We can walk the rest of the way.”

Draco drew his wand. “Lumos , ” he said.

The wind picked up again as they set out, tugging at their robes, seeming to urge them forward.

xXxXx

If looks could kill, Aletha knew, she and Sirius and Harry would all have been dead long ago. Lucius Malfoy was absolutely and completely consumed with rage at each of them, and would gladly have killed them with his bare hands. As said hands were currently tied, and Sirius had made it clear after the first few insults that he would gag Malfoy if it kept up, Malfoy was reduced to looking at them.

Wormtail, on the other hand, was shuffling along the passage with his head down, looking thoroughly cowed. Aletha kept her wand on him, though. She didn’t intend to be fooled by him again.

“Hold it,” said Sirius, stopping.

“What is it?” asked Aletha, holding out her hand to halt Harry, behind her.

“Moony’s wards. They’re not letting us in. We might have to go back.”

“Don’t give up before you even start,” said Aletha. “Have a try at taking them down. I’ll watch Malfoy.” She brought her wand over to guard both men.

A few flashes of light heralded unsuccessful attempts. “I’m not sure I can,” said Sirius. “When Moony protects a thing, it stays protected... wait, I have one more idea.” There was a faint jingling sound, then a triumphant shout. “Got it!”

“What?” asked Aletha.

“How’d you do it?” said Harry, peering forward.

“Hold on, let me come back.” Sirius lit his wand and stepped towards them. “Watch.” He turned and pressed against the air in front of him, which seemed to harden under his hand, not letting him through. “Now...”

He grabbed Malfoy’s arm and pulled him forward, pushing him up against the hardened air, then fished inside his robes, brought out his pendants, and pressed them to the air. Malfoy fell forward through the former barrier, just managing to stay on his feet.

“Nice,” said Harry. “Let me.” He pulled out his wand, aimed it at Malfoy, and let himself through the wards. Sirius followed, and Aletha escorted Wormtail through. Within a few minutes, they were climbing out of the hole between the roots of the Whomping Willow, Harry having reached up first to hit the knot.

Aletha looked up, keeping half an eye and her wand on Wormtail. The stars were coming out more thickly every second, and she knew soon the full moon would be above the trees where she could see it. Remus and Danger are going to be pissed... there’s nothing left for them to do.

Malfoy tripped and fell heavily to the ground. Sirius bent to pull him up, and a mist curled up from under his body. Aletha frowned. What is that?

Sirius sniffed curiously, and his eyes went wide. “Letha, run! ” He seized Harry’s arm and flung the boy away from Malfoy as hard as he could. Harry went flying, losing his balance and rolling down the slight slope that housed the Whomping Willow, as Sirius staggered back and fell.

Aletha was about to curse Malfoy when she remembered who she was supposed to be watching. She spun around and swore. Wormtail was gone.

She pointed her wand at herself. “Video caloris! ” It was the equivalent of Muggle infrared goggles – she would be able to see heat sources –

Wormtail’s trail glowed faintly red to her eyes. She took off, head down, looking up only long enough to see that she wasn’t going to run into anything – she could Summon him if she could just get to where she could see him...

xXxXx

Lucius could not have been more delighted. The potion had worked – if not perfectly, then well enough. All his captors were out of the way. Now he had only to free himself.

He picked up Black’s wand, which the Auror had let fall, and put its back end in his mouth. Aiming it at his wrists, he thought hard of the incantation for a cutting spell, and sighed with relief as the ropes fell away. He took the wand from his mouth and looked around carefully, but nothing moved nearby.

I could go after Potter, but why push my luck? Better just to return to the Shack, pack up a few necessities, and make good my escape while I still can.

But two pieces of business first.

He kicked Black hard in the face, and chuckled as the Auror’s nose crumpled and began to bleed like a tap. Then he aimed his “borrowed” wand towards the gates of Hogwarts and shot off a Summoning Spell.

To give Black what he should have had the day after he stole my son...

He slipped back into the hole out of which they had so recently come and started down the passage.

It is not quite the perfect evening I had hoped for, but neither is it as bad as it looked to be a few moments ago. I will still have my freedom, in any case. And I am rid of that disgusting little worm Pettigrew, and Black will get what he deserves.

Yes, all in all, not a bad evening’s work.

xXxXx

Harry picked himself up painfully and pulled out the wand he’d taken from Pettigrew. “Lumos ! ”

The wandlight showed him Padfoot lying on the ground by the Whomping Willow, which had reactivated now and was waving its branches around threateningly. Padfoot’s chest rose and fell, so he was alive, but his face was a bloody mess. Harry wanted to get to him, wanted to make sure he was all right, but something made him hesitate.

He threw me away from there, and yelled at Letha to run. Something must be wrong. Maybe that mist was a knock-out potion – and maybe it’s still there...

A howl from behind him made him whip around. His wandlight picked out the forms of two enormous wolves, coming toward him at speed –

“Moony! Danger!” Harry waved wildly. “Over here!”

The wolves skidded to a halt in front of him, Danger turning human as she did and pulling him into a tight embrace. “Harry, thank God you’re alive, are you all right?”

“Fine – but Padfoot’s hurt, and Malfoy got away, and Letha went after Wormtail – I haven’t seen Draco and Hermione, but they have to be all right, the pendants are normal again.”

“What happened?” said Danger quickly, as Moony rubbed against Harry’s legs in greeting and Harry squeezed his Pack-father’s shoulder. “Just to Sirius, Letha can take care of herself, and we’ll hear the rest later.”

Harry explained about the knock-out mist, and how Malfoy had disappeared in the time it took him, Harry, to pick himself up and light his wand.

“Only one place he can have gone,” said Danger. “Back into the passage, back to the Shrieking Shack. That was his base, wasn’t it?”

Harry nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“Track him down. What else?” Danger pulled out her wand and froze the Whomping Willow, allowing Moony to get in close to Padfoot. “You were right not to go to Sirius,” she said as Moony sniffed around. “Some of those knock-out vapors can linger for hours.”

“Then why...”

“Werewolves are immune to most spells and potions in transformed state,” said Danger. “It’s part of what makes them so dangerous.” Her eyes blurred blue. “He definitely went back into the passage,” she said absently. “And Sirius isn’t badly hurt – it looks like Malfoy just kicked him in the face. There’s a bit of vapor hanging around, but with this wind blowing, it should be gone within a minute or two. If you can wake him, get him into the castle. If not, just wait there – there should be someone along soon.”

“All right.” Harry hugged her quickly once more, then stood back as Danger changed forms and joined Moony near the entrance to the tunnel. “One more thing!” he called after them. “He tastes awful! ”

xXxXx

The wolves looked at each other in disbelief.

I don’t even want to know.

Nor do I. Let’s go. Remus started along the passage, moving silently and swiftly as the wind.

xXxXx

“Ah-ha! ” Aletha thrust her wand out. “Accio Wormtail! ”

Squeaking in dismay, the rat flew out of the hole he’d buried into and towards Aletha’s hand. Halfway there, he became human again, knocking her to the ground on impact. Her wand flew out of her hand. He scrabbled after it, but Aletha rolled over and got a hold of his arm, yanking him back towards her. He swung his other arm up and hit her on the ear. “NO!” he shouted. “I won’t go back there! I won’t!”

Aletha ignored the pain, throwing herself on top of the small man, only to feel him shrink away to almost nothing beneath her. A lucky grab netted her his tail, and she hoisted him up, then yelped and dropped him as he bit her.

“Oh, yes, you will,” she growled, feeling around on the ground for her wand and tracking his progress with her eyes as he scurried away. “You’ll go back as soon as I get you...” Her hand felt smooth wood, and she snatched up her wand and shot a spell after the running rat. She missed, but hit the ground near him, and the shock wave knocked him to his side, where he lay motionless.

Good enough.

She started to run toward him, then slowed down, blinking. The heat-sight spell must be failing – it was supposed to make things look brighter, not darker... but Pettigrew’s red shape was fading before her eyes, all the shapes were...

And why were her pendants suddenly so very cold again? She was shivering with their effect.

“Lumos , ” she said, holding her wand above her head, and everything came horribly clear.

It wasn’t just her pendants that were cold, and it wasn’t the heat-sight spell that was failing...

xXxXx

Harry counted as slow a sixty as he dared before sprinting up the rise to Padfoot’s side. He tore a piece off his own robes and wiped some of the blood off his godfather’s face, then pointed the wand at him. “Ennervate ! ”

Padfoot opened his eyes. “Harry?” he rasped out. “What... what’s going on?”

“Malfoy got away,” said Harry, “but Moony and Danger went after him, and Letha’s gone after Wormtail. Do you think you can walk? We have to get up to the castle and tell them.”

“I can... try.”

Harry helped his godfather sit up, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to stand any time soon. “All right,” he said. “So we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Help to come.” Harry shivered a little. “Are you cold?”

“A bit. Harry... I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“Letting Malfoy get away.” Padfoot felt his nose gingerly. “You caught him... and I let him get away again.”

“Oh, bollocks,” said Harry impatiently. “It could have happened to anybody. And I only got him because he had his back turned.” He shivered again, and blinked a few times as his vision clouded slightly.

“Is getting cold around here,” mumbled Padfoot, wrapping his arms around himself. His eyes were drifting shut. “C’mere... keep each other warm.�