Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 1
The Secret Life of Hippogriffs


The dingy street was just as he remembered it from two summers ago: row upon row of fading facades in a portion of London that had fallen out of fashion with the last century. What had once been stately townhouses had somehow managed to avoid the demolition ball, and most importantly, the recent trend of renovating structures to their previous Victorian splendor.

Harry Potter stepped out from under the broken street lamp that still stood as a solitary sentry at the corner of Grimmauld Place. Having just obtained his Apparition License, he was not too keen to just pop into Muggle neighborhoods where he could be easily spotted without taking extra precautions. The stars were just beginning to fade from the predawn sky when he had set out this morning. An extra early start just in case the street lamp had been repaired, he thought.

A quick glance at his wristwatch showed that it was just shy of six o’clock. Shrugging his left arm just so, he covered it up with his shirtsleeve lest the cool alabaster face betray his location. He was inexplicably proud of his new watch, an early seventeenth birthday present from his Aunt Petunia. It represented the only true gift he had received from his mother’s sister since he had been deposited on her doorstep as an infant.

Probably an early going-away-and-good-riddance present, he ventured. Had she been a witch, she would have infused it with a specialized confundus charm that would have kept him from being able to find his way back home.

His wry smile remained unfinished as he recalled the hushed tones and furtive glances that had accompanied her presentation of the gift. She had made him promise �“ no, swear �“ that he would not let Uncle Vernon nor his cousin, Dudley, set eyes on the watch. Perhaps he was being too uncharitable, he concluded.

With a sharp crack that resonated in the early morning stillness, Harry’s best mate for the past six years, Ron Weasley, Apparated just meters away. This was shortly followed by a more restrained pop that indicated that Hermione Granger, their co-conspirator, had also arrived.

Raising a finger to his lips for silence, Harry caught each of their eyes meaningfully and motioned to proceed as a group down the silent sidewalk. The evening’s rainfall had left the pavement damp and glistening and their footsteps squished as they walked. With the first streaks of the approaching dawn in the sky, the lingering moisture in the air had turned into a damp mist that was bound to soak through their garments if they lingered too long.

There, on the left side of the street, were number eleven and number thirteen. Proceeding with a feigned confidence he did not feel, Harry led them up the walk purposefully as had been previously demonstrated. Please let this work, he intoned inwardly, I don’t have a key. With relief, he saw the two houses inexplicably shoved aside as the doorstep and serpent-festooned door of number twelve appeared before them through the mist.

“Cool trick, Harry, never ceases to amaze…” whispered Ron, before Hermione’s sharp elbow cut him off.

Before Harry’s trainer had fully settled onto the topmost step of the entrance stoop, the systematic clicking of the magical locks disengaging could be heard over the sleepy stillness that still gripped the neighborhood. The house itself seemed to sigh as the ponderous door yawned open, beckoning them into the darkness beyond.

I am truly the master of my godfather’s estate, Harry mused inwardly, as if he had never comes to terms with the fact before this moment. With a collective deep breath, the trio stepped into the dark entrance of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, former residence of the late Sirius Black.

Hermione turned and gingerly closed the massive door behind them. Immediately, they were plunged into the total darkness of an underground cavern.

“Lumos!” concentrated Harry as he remembered at that last minute to use non-verbal spells. His lack of practice was apparent in the weak light that perched delicately at the tip of his upturned wand.

The dark walls seemed to absorb the anemic light that left most of the hall in deep shadow. As before, Harry was assaulted by the predominant use of black in the color scheme. What could have been a playful pun on the family name in the hands of a gifted decorator was more likely a subtle declaration of the former owners’ magical alliances. Heavily flocked wallpaper from a different era, now stained an indifferent shade of brown, still clung in patches to the walls. Thick, velvet curtains of a red so deep it might as well have been black still covered the majority of the windows throughout. Despite the best housecleaning efforts of Ron’s mother two summers ago, a substantial patina of dust had once again settled over the contents of the house.

That his godfather, Sirius, had chosen his own path among the forces of light had never ceased to impress Harry. It had not endeared Sirius to the remainder of his family, however. The portrait of Sirius’ late mother that resolutely hung in the entrance hall had been particularly vocal concerning her son’s shortcomings during Harry’s last visit �“ not to mention those of any subsequent house guests.

Bearing her previous tirades in mind, Harry cautiously peered around an ancient brass hat stand that had tarnished to an iridescent shade of black. The drapes that had previously shielded the portrait hung in streaming tatters, like funeral strands of crepe paper. The muffled sound emanating from the painting beneath drew them irresistibly forward.

“Her portrait’s been slashed, too,” whispered Hermione, obviously alarmed.

Sure enough, many of the crepe paper strips turned out to be aged canvas that looked like it had been slashed by a sharp object or simply separated by age and mildew. It was impossible to determine which. Hermione’s relieved expression confirmed that she had come to a similar conclusion.

“If I’d only known that cutting the canvas would have silenced the old bag, I would have done it myself,” remarked Ron sardonically.

“Don’t be silly,” rejoined Hermione, “Kreacher would never have allowed it. Not to mention that there may have been other protective charms. Don’t you remember all of your mother’s failed attempts to remove the portrait to a less central location?”

“Have to give her credit for that one, mate,” agreed Harry. “If there had been any way to silence her, I’m sure Sirius would have discovered it during the many months that he spent shut up in this place.”

“Speaking of Kreacher, I assume he is still working in the kitchens at Hogwarts where you assigned him, Harry,” Hermione continued, “but it sure does seem unnaturally quiet around here with him scurrying �“ I mean, attending -- to the household matters.”

Harry glanced up to where the row of the Black family’s previous house-elves had been immortalized by Sirius’ Aunt Elladora. At least the ghastly placard that had borne their decapitated heads had been removed by Mrs. Weasley to a more suitable location. Harry fervently hoped that suitable location was the nearest dustbin. The sole reminder of its former presence was a slightly less brown oval on the wallpaper.

At least I saved him from that fate, Harry mused. Glancing at Hermione’s upturned face, he replied, “I sure hope so or we are not going to have any luck locating his hidden stash of family heirlooms, now are we?”

Being reminded of the expedition’s goal allowed them to shake off some of the gloominess of their immediate surroundings. Harry led the way to a small alcove under the grand staircase where they would feel less exposed. Two more wand tips added light and the shadows seemed to recede noticeably.

“First order of business,” Harry stated, assuming the expedition’s lead, “protection from intruders.” He pulled a dusty looking Foe-Glass from his jacket pocket. “Courtesy of Mad-Eye Moody himself.”

Hermione stared doubtfully at the faded Foe-Glass that looked like it had certainly seen better days. “Didn’t help Mad-Eye much when he was ambushed and kidnapped by Barty Junior, did it? Although, I suppose that if you keep an eye on it �“ er, no pun intended �“ it does seem to work better.”

Hermione reached deep into her jacket pocket and withdrew two large electric torches. She shrugged ruefully, “My parents are Muggles… What did you bring, Ron?”

As the materiels specialist of the operation, Ron had a rucksack of supplies. With obvious pride, he brought forth a curious object that looked like a cross between a snow globe and a traffic beacon.

“What is it?” whispered Hermione as her eyes widened with awe.

“Evil Eye Detector,” explained Ron. “Picks up motions and words of an intruder from within a specified distance.”

“You mean like a Muggle car alarm?” intoned Hermione.

“Yeah,” nodded Ron, “that’s where Fred and George got their inspiration. They’ve added some extra features of their own, though. You know, to make it more appealing to wizarding folk.”

The entrepreneurial talent of Ron’s twin brothers was virtually unmatched as demonstrated by the success of their first retail venture at nineteen years of age.

Sure hope they have improved upon the faulty trigger of many car alarms, Harry winced, but decided to keep that comment to himself.

Ron placed the detector on a rather rickety little table and knelt before it, fiddling with the complicated knobs on the base. “There, I think I have it set for a perimeter of about 15 to 20 feet �“ it’s rather difficult to tell with his model. Here, attach these patches to your clothing so that it recognizes you as a friend.”

Harry stared down at the strange patch in his hand. Fingering it, he could not determine the exact material, but was momentarily taken aback as the huge eye in the center suddenly blinked. Following Ron’s lead, he attached it to his shirtfront where it stuck automatically just as if it had been backed with Velcro.

Pointing his wand at the detector’s dome, Ron whispered, “Protego horus.” A gigantic eye appeared in the center of the dome and blinked languidly. “Now that it’s activated, let’s take a look ‘round.”

“Is it drafty in here?” asked Hermione.

“Yeah, now that you mention it,” agreed Harry, “Seems to be coming from up there.” He pointed his wand up the staircase that led to the bedrooms above. He concentrated on keeping the hand steady so that, hopefully, the others would not notice his growing apprehension. The upper landing beckoned menacingly.

The strong electric beam of Hermione’s torch seemed to cut a path up the stairs. Grabbing the second torch, Harry added another beam to light their way into the unknown.

The mysterious cold draft that had lured them upstairs felt much stronger on the second floor. Cautiously, they continued down the hallway, the electric torches casting a wavering path before them. The threadbare carpet felt rough through the soles of their shoes and they had to take care to not trip on the upturned patches.

Taking the lead, Hermione beckoned them past a number of closed doors to the end of the hall. Harry passed the doorway to the room he and Ron had shared two summers ago; the door seemed like it could collapse from wood rot at the slightest touch. The double doors leading to the master suite were slightly ajar. It was clear that the draft was emanating from that direction.

Pointing her wand at the door hinges, Hermione silently moved her lips. From her lip contours, Harry concluded she had mouthed, “Silencio,” to forestall any protesting squeals. Very deliberately, she opened just one side of the double doors and squeezed herself through.

The main room of the master suite looked just as derelict as the remainder of the house. Shining their lights to the right, they revealed a giant marble fireplace that was festooned with spider webs. The ornate mirror above the mantle hung askew as large chunks of plaster were missing from the walls on either side, revealing a skeleton of old brick. To the left of the fireplace, a single door led into the next set of rooms.

Quickly extinguishing his torch, Harry approached the closed door and bent low to the sill. There was weak light coming from the other room.

Leaning close, Hermione whispered, “Isn’t that the room where Sirius kept…”

“Buckbeak, yeah,” Harry finished for her.

Following Hermione’s ritual with the hinges, Harry carefully swung the door inward to reveal a room that looked like it had been a victim of the London blitz. Weak daylight and morning mist were curling through a gaping hole in the ceiling. The fireplace on this side was completely demolished and portions of the kitchen below were visible where the avalanche of falling bricks had left a sizeable hole in the floorboards.

Not daring to venture any further, the trio leaned in for a better look from the relative safety of the doorframe. What remained of the other walls showed mildewed wallpaper peeling off in large strips, often aided by deep grooves that seemed to have been raked through the underlying plaster. Amid the numerous puddles on the floor, damp leaves and other yard waste had accumulated in various piles on the sodden carpet. The entire floor looked like it could collapse into the lower story at the slightest provocation.

“Oh, Harry,” sighed Hermione, as she sunk down into a sitting position next to the interior wall, “I should have realized… It must have happened when Sirius was �“ well, you know �“ when he fell through the veil.”

Leaving the door to Buckbeak’s chamber open to provide some natural light, the two boys sank down on the carpet to wait for the revelation that was sure to come.

Looking to each of them in turn, Hermione cleared her throat and continued, “You see, hippogriffs have a unique response to grief. It’s as if they can sense the death of their human companions even from great distances.”

“I don’t remember that from the magical creatures text that Hagrid assigned,” Ron interjected.

“Since when do you ever read the texts, mate?” observed Harry, attempting to poke Ron playfully in the ribs with his elbow.

“Well, it wasn’t in the textbook,” Hermione admitted. Harry could feel Ron begin to roll his eyes in categorical fashion. “Remember when I helped Hagrid with Buckbeak’s legal appeal? There are all sorts of interesting information about hippogriffs if one takes the time to do a little research.”

Harry was convinced that Ron’s eyes were going to get stuck in that position if he insisted on rolling them every time Hermione admitted to doing a little further research.

“It seems that back in the sixteenth century, Sir Barnabas of Barnsdale came up with the novel idea of using hippogriffs with mounted warriors in combat,” continued Hermione without missing a beat.

“Surely, you don’t mean Barnabas the Barmy?” interjected Ron, “That git that tried to turn trolls into ballerinas?”

Harry couldn’t suppress a smile at the mention of the tapestry that hung across from the Room of Requirement in Hogwarts castle. Those trolls in tutus had always been a favorite of his �“ kind of like the wizard’s equivalent of the dogs playing poker that seemed so popular among Muggles.

“The very same,” she admitted, “Although that was hardly one of his better ideas. Believe it or not, he was considered a very progressive thinker for his time… Anyway, the hippogriffs proved to be fierce and fearless in battle, but only as long as the wizard who rode them remained alive. If the wizard died in battle, however, they became so distraught with grief that they would lash out at anything and anyone in their immediate path, friend or foe. They were also next to impossible to train to accept another rider as they remained loyal to their fallen companion. It was even rumored that they could tell when their rider died, even years later and separated by great distances.”

“So you mean that room has been open to the elements since last year?” Harry asked incredulously.

“I’m afraid so,” Hermione admitted.

“But why wouldn’t Hagrid have said something? Surely, he was an expert on hippogriff behavior…” Harry trailed off as his thoughts turned to Hagrid’s less than successful experiences with taming baby dragons, blast-ended skrewts, and lastly, his own half brother.

“Perhaps he never considered it. After all, hippogriffs haven’t been used in battle for four hundred plus years and there aren’t many records that have survived since then. Besides,” Hermione continued in a more gentle tone, “he may have thought that you had enough on your plate already.”

“Look, chum, since when have they given us all the facts?” commiserated Ron.

Harry nodded to admit he had a point. It seemed that adults in the wizarding world often thought that pertinent facts were to be disseminated on a ‘need to know’ basis only. In Harry’s experience, though, ‘need to know’ often translated to ‘after he’d had at least one nasty close call.’

“I just can’t believe I didn’t put all the pieces together until now,” moaned Hermione. “I guess Buckbeak always seemed so tame, so domesticated, so--”

“And since when have any of Hagrid’s creatures been domesticated?” argued Ron. “This is a man who thinks that when creatures are labeled as dangerous and vicious in the text, it only means that they are misunderstood.”

“We’d best examine the damage below,” suggested Harry, as he rose up and stretched the dampness from his limbs. He noticed that the sunlight actually warmed his hand as he closed the door to Buckbeak’s room. It would be a fine summer morning outside, he thought.

“I still can’t believe I forgot all about the hippogriff’s behavior,” muttered Hermione as they worked their way back down the hallway. “I used it to such great effect on my essay for the History of Magic O.W.L., too…”

Harry smiled to himself as he considered how much mileage Hermione could get out of the smallest bit of seemingly useless information.

* * *

The swinging door to the kitchen was stuck. It opened about three inches and then refused to move further. Peering through the small opening, Harry saw that a mound of broken brick and mortar had become lodged between the door and the wall. Try as he might, he was unable to get his wand hand through the small crack.

“Allow me,” offered Hermione. Deftly, she snaked her petite hand and wrist past the opening. “Evanesco!” she commanded. It took a few tries before she got the angle right, but soon enough debris had been cleared to swing the door wide enough for each of them. A final glance at the Evil Eye Detector still perched on the spindly table on the floor above showed the same lazy eye blink as before.

Glistening puddles with a few floating leaves dotted the kitchen flagstones, the large trestle table where they had once shared a lively dinner with the members of the Order of the Phoenix still dominated most of the open area. About half of the chimney had crumbled away, leaving rubble over most of the kitchen work area; but it was not impassable if one plotted a course around the larger obstacles.

“Not much left in here,” commented Ron as he picked up the large cooking cauldron that had once hung merrily in the fireplace. He righted it and placed it to catch drips from the largest hole in the ceiling. “Best check out the dining room through there.”

At the top of a short staircase, the door to the dining room swung open easily but they were instantly assaulted by the heavy pall of dust that floated in the air. The thick velvet drapes still hung over the double windows across the front of the house and effectively blocked out all manner of sunlight. Once again, wand tips and electric torches flared.

Despite the overwhelming use of black that Harry remembered in this room, the view that greeted him showed that everything had now faded to a uniform shade of grey. It took a minute for him to realize that he was staring at a thick blanket of dust on every imaginable surface. Shining his light around the walls showed that everything seemed to be in its place, yet not quite right. It was Ron who noticed that the sideboard to their immediate right did not match up exactly with its lighter imprint on the ancient wallpaper.

“Probably from when Mum did her spring cleaning routine here two summers ago,” he suggested. “Looks like nobody’s been in here for ages.”

“I don’t remember her moving any of the large furniture pieces, Ron,” countered Hermione. “The pests were much more of a priority at the time.”

Strange that the pests would not have returned with this level of abandonment, thought Harry. Hadn’t the Order continued to meet here during the last year of his godfather’s life? Surely, such a large gathering could not have been wedged into the narrow basement kitchen.

“Let me try something,” Harry volunteered as he boldly walked up to a nearby tea cart, leaving deep crimson tracks in the dusty carpet. Pulling his jacket sleeve down to cover his hand, he swept the dust from the oval surface to reveal rich oak tones beneath.

Completing a rather complicated fanfare with his wand, he pointed it at the center of the cart and commanded, “Gravitas particulus!”

As if pulled from the air itself, dust motes swirled over the tea cart and floated down to cover it evenly in a light layer.

“Blimey,” Ron said admiringly, “where’d you learn that one, Harry?”

“Not the Half-Blood Prince, again,” cautioned Hermione.

“Nope,” replied Harry, “this one’s from Hagrid. He used it to add a romantic sparkle to the snow in the garden for the Yule Ball. Said it was so easy, even he could do it with his makeshift wand.”

“But how does it work on dust motes?” inquired Hermione.

“Well, the original spell just captured particles of moonbeam and projected them down onto another surface. It took me a while to work out that it would work on any tiny air-borne particles with only a small modification of the wand movements.” With a definite twinkle in his eye, Harry added, “I’ve used the dust mote variation to great effect when Aunt Petunia assigned both Dudley and me to help out with the housework at Privet Drive.”

“Wicked!” intoned Ron admiringly. “So you did finally find a way to pay back that Muggle prat for upending the cigarette ashtrays on the carpet you had just vacuumed!”

Harry nodded his assent as his smile widened. His wand worked furiously for a few more moments and he had restored the tabletop to its previous level of dust.

“Too bad you can’t get the spell to work backwards, huh, Harry? To pick the dust up instead?” suggested Ron. “Evanesco only seems to work on larger objects.”

“Sorry, not yet anyway.”

“Of course not,” mused Ron, “my Mum would surely have known about it then.”

Harry had to admit that such a spell could have even endeared the wizarding world to the likes of his Aunt Petunia �“ and that was truly a tall order.

Like the smallest puff of smoke, a sparkling of lavender particles drifted from the direction of the great dining room fireplace.

“Harry, how….” whispered Hermione in an awed tone.

“I didn’t…” began Harry, and then caught sight of Ron’s expression. Ron’s eyes had grown huge as he stared fixedly at the fireplace. “What is it, Ron?”

“Someone’s coming!” Ron hissed fearfully. “That was the Floo Warning System. All the grand houses have them�”or so I heard, we never had more than one chimney at the Burrow. Keeps wizards from colliding in mid-floo.”

“Someone must be arriving through one of the other chimneys that are still in working order,” surmised Harry in a tone of alarm.

“We need to hide now!” Hermione cried, grabbing each of their sleeves and attempting to drag both boys in the direction of the kitchen. “I think I saw a pantry closet in here…”

Ron followed her quickly down the steps into the next room while Harry demurred in order to quickly re-dust his carpet tracks. Once through the kitchen door, he saw his two friends peeking out from the pantry. Silently, he slipped inside to join them.

A remnant from days when stores of food were put up for the winter, the pantry was more like a walk-in closet. Part of the ceiling had been torn away by the collapse of the adjoining kitchen chimney, allowing a bit of dim light to penetrate from the demolished room above. It did not take Harry’s eyes long to adjust. Looking around, he could see that most of the old wooden shelves lining three sides of the room were still sound. A few had sagged in the path of the chimney bricks that now lay in a tumbled heap in the corner.

Reaching for the Foe-Glass in his pocket, he was surprised that the metal base had become strangely warm to the touch. Placing it carefully on one of the shelves, he could see that the mists inside were beginning to swirl purposefully into ghostlike shapes.

He also noticed that the strange patches from the Evil Eye Detector had changed. The huge eye was blinking furiously from this shirtfront. Turning around to face his friends, he noted that Ron’s patch was acting even more agitated as it frantically kept switching from the blinking eye to an ear and back again!

Ron looked at his shirtfront in alarm. “I got audio coming in!”

Snatching the patch from his chest, he quickly stroked the edge. The image on the patch resolved into that of a large ear. He motioned the rest of them closer as faint shuffling sounds could be heard.

“Wot’s ‘appended ‘ere?” an unfamiliar voice intoned brusquely.

Another voice seemed to answer him, but it was too garbled to understand.

“Let me ‘elp you back to your feet,” Voice One continued.

“It’s just an old house,” Voice Two beseeched him. “Just down the hall a bit--” The rest was lost in static.

“I bet you they came in through the master suite,” suggested Hermione. “I don’t remember there being a fireplace in the room where I stayed.”

“Not in ours, either,” rejoined Harry in a whisper.

“Man, we were just in that room a few moments ago,” Ron’ eyes widened once more.

“Careful with this torn bit of carpet here,” Voice Two crackled. “The wooden banister’s not too sound, either.”

I know I’ve heard that voice before, intoned Harry inwardly. The fawning tone…it sent shivers up his spine.

The visual on Hermione’s patch was straining to focus. Harry grabbed the disk from her jacket and brought it in closer so they could all see. He could just distinguish the oversized wooden end post of the grand staircase. As the focus adjusted, they could see two distinct figures: the tall one trailing after the much shorter one who seemed to be picking his way carefully from step to step.

As the shorter intruder reached the end of the first landing, the viewing angle changed abruptly to focus on him exclusively. They could no longer discern the taller figure behind except for an occasional swish of dark fabric. As the smaller intruder neared, the magical viewer began to distinguish the colors of his garments so that he seemed to colorize before their eyes.

Harry blinked twice at the garishly garbed figure. A carnival clown would have thought twice before donning such an ensemble! The intruder’s right foot came into closer focus as it felt around for purchase on the next step, trying to avoid a huge tear in the worn carpet. Harry could see that the foot was bandaged and that the entire figure seemed to flinch every time weight was shifted onto it. A white, claw-like hand attempted to grip the banister, but he could not quite get his fingers around the wood.

Suddenly, Harry knew! The small stature, the obsequious voice, the bandaged foot… “It’s Kreacher!” he hissed.

“And he seems to be hurt--” sympathized Hermione.

“Don’t start with that S.P.E.W. line--” began Ron.

“It’s worse than that,” interrupted Harry. “He’s punished himself for going against his master’s wishes �“ and I’m his current master.”

“Harry…” Ron was tugging anxiously at this sleeve. “What’s Kreacher doing wearing clothing? You didn’t free him, did you?”

“All I did was order him to work in the Hogwarts’ kitchens as Dumbledore suggested,” Harry returned as the full impact of Ron’s worried frown began to sink in.

“Could someone else have given him clothing to free him?” Hermione whispered urgently.

“Only his current master,” Harry reiterated, biting his lower lip in concentration. “Dumbledore seemed so absolutely certain that Kreacher had been compelled to follow my orders and used that as proof of the validity of Sirius’ last will and testament.”

“If the events of last term taught us anything, it’s that Dumbledore is not infallible,” Hermione suggested stoically.

“I think that things might just turn out be more convoluted that we ever suspected, mate,” Ron commiserated.

With a curt nod, Harry acknowledged that their assessments were likely correct. “Then we certainly don’t want to hang around to find out what Kreacher has up his little red sleeve,” he announced with conviction, “I already know I’m not going to like it.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

Chapter 2
Findings


“Where can we go?” Ron beseeched, his voice hinting at panic. “They have the front door practically blocked!”

“We’ll just have to Disapparate �“ despite the noise factor,” Hermione volunteered. “Hopefully, the pantry walls will block the sound to some extent.”

“All right,” agreed Harry, “Where do we rendezvous? Some place safe.”

“Diagon Alley?” suggested Ron. “The Burrow?”

Harry shook his head. “Too many wizards about. We need someplace where we will be totally anonymous. Someplace like a Muggle crowd.”

“You can’t just Apparate into a Muggle crowd and expect to remain anonymous,” Hermione observed.

For the second time that morning, Harry glanced at his new wristwatch. It was just nearing half-past eight. The height of rush hour!

“I have it! What about a tube station?” he volunteered. “During rush hour, no one will notice a few extra bodies.”

“Still too noticeable to pop into the middle of a crowd, though,” Hermione warned.

“You could actually bowl somebody over,” cautioned Ron in a tone that bespoke of having experienced such a calamity before.

“We could Apparate in the loos,” Hermione considered, “Inside a cubicle would be best.”

Harry cleared his throat softly. “What if the cubicle is, you know, already occupied?”

Hermione screwed up her face in disgust. This was obviously a situation she had not considered. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“An empty broom closet,” Ron put forth with aplomb.

“And do you have a blueprint of the building that would show those?” Hermione hissed. “It’s hardly the thing one remembers in passing.”

“I would hate finding myself inside of a maintenance closet that had been locked from the outside, mate,” Harry considered.

“But, they’re going to think we’re pervs,” Ron moaned.

“Especially the two of you together,” Hermione noted wryly.

“Unless anyone has any better idea within the next ten seconds, I suggest that we risk it,” Harry concluded urgently. At Ron’s mortified expression, he added, “Look, you can Stun them and then I’ll Obliviate them if it comes to that! Improvise!”

Hermione was lost in thought for a moment. “Perhaps if we just concentrated on an empty cubicle, visualized it clearly in our imagination.”

“You mean, if we had enough determination?” Harry ventured as the words of their Apparition instructor came immediately to mind.

“Desperation would be more like it,” Ron mumbled under his breath.

“Fine,” agreed Harry as he returned his attention to the principle dilemma. “Let’s agree upon a specific tube station, already. I don’t know London very well.”

“I don’t know Muggle London at all, mate,” complained Ron. “Are you sure we shouldn’t try for the Burrow? I know Mum will be about, but--”

“There’s a station near here that feeds a lot of the tourist attractions,” whispered Hermione hurriedly. “Do you remember going on any field trips when you were at Muggle school?”

Harry rubbed his scar absently as he pondered, but all he could think about was his rapidly racing heart.

“Do you remember visiting the Tower of London? The British Museum?” Hermione suggested frantically. At his blank look, she tried again, “Do you remember the Egyptian mummies?”

Finally a dim memory came back to Harry: holding hands in a long string of rowdy children and winding his way past the glass enclosed mummy cases. Wanting to linger to look at the details and being dragged along like a long, winding snake. He nodded tentatively.

“Now do you remember the tube station?” she ventured, but Harry shook his head in frustration once more.

But slowly, his nine-year-old self was coming into view and he was standing in a long queue of boys this time, on a sidewalk… There was a row of red telephone boxes right next to the building.

“There’s a line of call boxes where everyone likes to pose for pictures with the royal guard?” he suggested hopefully.

She smiled and nodded.

“What about me?” Ron asked shakily. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

“Side-Along Apparition, Ron,” declared Harry. “I did it a few times with Dumbledore. Not exactly the most pleasant sensation, but it will get you there.”

They could begin to hear sounds coming from the dining room, sounds that the intruders had begun to open the double French doors that led to the main hall, but then thought better of it.

“It looks like they are turning back down the hall to the back staircase,” whispered Hermione, peering anxiously into the little viewer. “They’ll be at the kitchen door presently. We need to get out of here now!”

“What about the Evil Eye Detector? I can’t just leave it behind.” Ron cracked the door to the pantry open and was about to poke the tip of his wand through the small opening. “Here let me just--”

Hermione grabbed his hand back. “Don’t,” she commanded tersely.

“All I have to do is Summon the thing back,” he countered.

“Leave it,” warned Harry.

Suddenly, an ear splitting wail assaulted them. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, including the patches that they wore on their shirts. The intruders had gotten too close to the alarm!

Stuffing the patches hurriedly into Ron’s rucksack, Harry motioned for him to put his wand away also. Ron grabbed Harry’s upper arm with both hands as Harry counted down to three. At least in this commotion, no one would notice the noise of their Disapparitions, he thought.

His last gesture was to snatch the Foe-Glass from the shelf, nearly dropping it in the process as it had become almost too hot to handle. He did not have time to notice the menacing face that had materialized behind Kreacher’s pointed one.

Harry reappeared crookedly with one foot propped on the ancient toilet. Ron’s body was angled in the narrow space between the back wall and the cubicle partition. Unable to get their proper footing, the boys tumbled against the old wooden door which immediately yawned open. They fell into a heap onto the crumbling floor tiles, Harry barely grabbing his glasses at the last moment to prevent them from shattering on the hard surface. The Foe-Glass rolled out of his other hand with a loud metallic echo.

Luckily, no one else was about. Harry retrieved the Foe-Glass, now cool to the touch. He examined it closely, but no faces were currently visible in its smoky depths. Stuffing it absently into his jacket, he hurriedly brushed white plaster dust from his trousers as he rose shakily. Ron did likewise. The lavatory mirrors showed their reflections in ghost-like outlines through a thick layer of grime. Hearing men’s voices in the distance, they quickly tucked themselves into the shadows beneath the washbasins.

Slowly, they eased their heads around the corner for a better look. They could just see a small crew of workmen lounging about outside the far doorway, talking among themselves and sipping from plastic containers.

No wonder the place was deserted; it was being renovated.

“We have to get out of here before they finish their tea break,” whispered Ron into Harry’s ear. “I think I saw another way out.”

Turning back towards the bathroom depths, they could see a long line of transom windows along the back wall of the toilet stalls. Many of the windows were cranked open to allow for ventilation. Standing on the back of the toilet, Ron attempted to reach the window sill. His outstretched hand fell short by more than a meter.

“Give me a boost,” he suggested to Harry, as he handed over his rucksack hastily.

Using Harry’s shoulder as an impromptu step, Ron was able to swing his long leg over the cubicle wall after a few attempts. With both legs straddling the partition, he then shimmied over to the back wall.

“Now for the tricky part,” he mused.

Locating a slight lip from a misaligned tile, he dug his fingertips in for balance. Then, very slowly, he eased his trainers onto the top edge of the partition wall; it could not have been more than an inch wide. Walking his hands along the tiles for balance, he unfolded his lean frame until he was balanced as if he were atop a circus tightrope.

“I’m never going to be able to follow you, chum,” called Harry from below.

“You may not have to,” Ron answered, as he peered over the open transom. “Looks like the building backs into a wild patch. We should be able to Apparate there totally unseen.”

Swinging himself down from his vantage point, Ron stood next to Harry on the dusty floor. Another Side-Along Apparition was in order, but this time Ron was in the lead.

Once again, they landed in a crumpled pile. Carefully avoiding a sharp holly bush to his left, Harry slowly looked around as he worked his way into a standing position. They were sandwiched between the brick backside of the station and a rickety wooden wall that had been erected as a construction barrier.

Easing away from the direction of the workers, they circumvented the back of the building to arrive at the opposite side. Checking that there were no passersby looking their way, they nonchalantly stepped onto the sidewalk. Harry peered into the interior of the station as he absently picked a few bits of grassy twigs from his jacket sleeve. No sign of Hermione among the crowd.

“We’d better go inside,” he suggested to Ron as he held the glass door wide.

Ron looked around in awe at the totally ordinary surroundings. As Harry dragged him along to keep them from being trampled under the stream of frantic commuters, he was reminded of how infrequently Ron ventured outside his own world. Past the bored ticket taker, they found the rows of benches that comprised the waiting area. Still no sign of Hermione.

I should have suggested a secondary rendezvous point, thought Harry in hindsight, just in case we missed each other at the tube station.

Beyond the escalators that led down to the boarding platform, Harry spied a small coffee shop where a handful of commuters were seeking refuge from the crowds. It would make an ideal vantage point from which to survey the passing bodies without being crushed themselves. He guided Ron in that direction.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, the Muggle at a small table of the far right lowered the newspaper that she had been reading. They noticed Hermione’s familiar eyebrows and forehead, followed by her broad smile.

“Did you two have to hike cross country?” she asked as they drew near. She stood up to affectionately pluck some dried leaves from Ron’s ginger locks.

“Naw, we just had to take a slight detour out the backside of the building,” explained Ron as he slid into the seat next to her.

Hermione raised her eyebrows skeptically and turned to Harry for corroboration.

“Long story, Hermione,” he replied. “The loo was being renovated and we didn’t want
to barge through the workers’ tea party by going out the front door.”

“Good thing no one was at work when we popped in, eh?” added Ron.

“There was no one in the ‘Ladies’ when I Apparated, either,” admitted Hermione, half turning in the chair to gesture behind her.

The smile seemed to slide from her face as she caught sight of the door to the Ladies Lounge. Posted in plain sight was a huge sign that read: CLOSED FOR RENNOVATIONS.

Turning around sheepishly, she countered, “Well, at least no one would have noticed me when I came out. This place looked like a cattle stampede until about five minutes ago. Looks like the crowd is finally beginning to wind down…”

Catching sight of Ron’s haggard face, Hermione changed lanes in mid-breath. “What’s the matter, Ron?”

“Wish I hadn’t had to leave the Eye behind,” he mumbled dejectedly. “Fred and George are going to kill me.”

“Casualty of war, mate,” Harry reminded him. “That’s what field tests are all about.”

“I didn’t exactly get their permission before I borrowed it,” Ron admitted.

Hermione shook her head sympathetically.

“They’re going to kill me,” he moaned.

“No, they won’t, Ron.” Hermione’s voice filled with resolve as her eyes lit up with the kernel of an idea. “You just did them a great service by testing their product in a real life situation.”

“I don’t think they’re going to see it that way, Hermione,” Ron moped. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, though.”

But Hermione was not letting go. “We’ll just have to make them see. First, you’ll prepare a report to detail your findings.” She looked pointedly at Ron. “You know, the features that worked well and those that could do with a bit of tweaking.”

Ron’s glum face showed that he was still unconvinced. Perhaps this was beginning to sound too much like schoolwork, observed Harry silently.

“All right,” offered Hermione, “I’ll help you get started.” She turned around slightly to fish a small memo pad and a ballpoint pen from the pocket of her windbreaker. “Let’s start with the areas that need improvement. That’s always easiest.”

“The focus,” volunteered Harry. “How it focused on Kreacher and then we could no longer see the face of his companion.”

Hermione scribbled furiously as she muttered, “Focus adjusted too close to floor level. Seems to catch on first moving object it sees. Unable to adjust to a wider angle.”

“Say, Ron,” Harry asked conversationally, “just how did Fred and George get into the business of making proximity alarms, anyway? It hardly seems like the sort of thing a joke shop would stock.”

“Actually, they were thinking about marketing it to practical jokers who wanted to make sure they weren’t caught in the act,” explained Ron.

“Then they’re going to have to do something about that alarm,” Hermione rejoined. “That would warn the, um, victims for miles around.”

“It’s supposed to have a vibrate feature,” admitted Ron, “but I guess I didn’t set it right.”

“Features should be easier to set,” breathed Hermione as she added to her notepad. “User should be able to easily double-check settings…Anything else? Let’s move on to the positives then.”

“How about the fact that we could see who was coming down the stairs even though the globe was hidden in the alcove?” offered Ron.

Hermione nodded her assent as she continued to scribble.

“I thought that the labeling on the patches with an eye and an ear made them very easy to understand,” Harry added.

Hermione surveyed her notes critically, her pen poised over the pad expectantly. “That’s a good start. Here, Ron, I’ll give you my notes and--”

Ron’s stricken face stopped her in midstream.

“All right,” she conceded, “I’ll try to get it organized and owl you over a draft. Feel free to add in anything else that occurs to you in the meanwhile. But you’re going to need to copy it over in your own handwriting,” she stressed.

“Do you think it will work?” he implored. “Do you think they’ll forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” she replied in an airy tone. “They’ll be positively thrilled with the findings. Do you realize the value of product field testing? I wouldn’t be surprised if they offered to pay you for your efforts!”

Ron gave her a hang-dog look that conveyed he was still unconvinced.

“Trust me on this,” she said more gently. Turning her attention to the other side of the table, she said, “What do you think, Harry?”

But Harry was not paying attention. He was staring grimly into the distance, clenching his jaw uncharacteristically.

“What is it, mate?” asked Ron worriedly.

“Did you see someone suspicious?” Hermione quickly added, her voice filling with alarm.

“We have to go back,” Harry replied deliberately, still staring off in thought. Then turning to face his friends, he repeated, “We have to go back to Grimmauld Place.”

Ron was taken aback. “No way. We almost got caught the last time…”

Hermione was of a like mind. “There’s no telling who might be lurking about,” she cautioned.

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry replied resolutely. “Look at this.”

Glancing discreetly around to make sure that they were not attracting any undue attention, he motioned them over to his side of the table. They stood staring down into a folded newspaper that Harry was guarding in his lap; the same paper that Hermione had discarded earlier. Slowly, he eased it open to reveal a bundled dishtowel, threadbare and so ancient it was practically grey.

“Where did that come from?” Hermione whispered.

“Stuffed behind one of the broken chimney bricks in the pantry,” Harry breathed. “It was a miracle I was able to grab it just as we were Disapparating.”

“Explains why we landed in such a heap,” Ron noted with a grimace.

“Yeah, sorry about that…”

Using the eraser end of a pencil stub, Harry carefully eased the towel open to reveal a jumble worthy of a magpie: shards of old china, broken earring parts, bits of sparkle that were probably glass rhinestones that had fallen out of their original mountings. Coiled like a serpent in the middle of a nest lay a thick oval pendant, tarnished to a dark shade of mahogany.

Hermione gasped involuntarily. Barely discernable through the grime, an ornate letter “S” had been incised into the metal.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

Chapter 3
The Endless Possibilities of Floo Powder


The late August morning dawned bright and clear as Harry awoke. His owl, Hedwig, was perched upon the open windowsill, snowy white wings held wide to maximize her exposure to the sun. He would have thought she was attempting to sunbathe, but experience had taught him that she often assumed this posture when returning from a hunt -- something to do with the coldness and damp that permeated her delicate feathers as she swooped through the pre-dawn mist.

Other than the occasional hoot from Hedwig, the house at number four, Privet Drive seemed unusually quiet this morning. He slipped into the discarded clothing from last night and trooped down the stairs. He found both the living room and kitchen deserted as he helped himself to breakfast. This was becoming the routine over the summer weeks, he thought; much more the rule than the exception.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had suddenly decided that their precious son, Dudley, was destined for higher learning �“ despite his threatened expulsions from the prestigious Smeltings Academy during each of the last four years. Since this was Dudley’s last summer before graduation, his parents had devoted themselves wholeheartedly to obtaining him a University appointment.

It was not going well, thought Harry wryly; not that they would ever concede that Dudley just wasn’t University material.

What had started out as weekly interviews with various admissions boards had quickly morphed into more frequent and frantic attempts. Having received no interviews with any of the premier Universities throughout Britain, Dudley and company had quickly exhausted the second- and third-rate institutions. They were now reduced to applying to trade schools where, Harry surmised, they probably should have started in the first place.

The upshot of the Dursleys’ new obsession was that Harry had often been left to putter around the house alone while Aunt Petunia accompanied Dudley to his next interview and Uncle Vernon went to work at the drill factory. Of course, Uncle Vernon had left him terse instructions from the start that he was to have no visitors, particularly any of his “weird friends” as he liked to refer to the wizarding community, no deliveries of any sort to his doorstep (the emphasis was always apparent), and was not to leave the house under any circumstances. Then they had locked him in and not left him with the key.

Now that the absences were much more routine, his uncle had shortened his exit tirade considerably. Still he liked to make his point before leaving for work each day by shaking a fat finger in a menacing manner while locking his porcine eyes onto Harry’s green ones.

Harry accepted all of this in stride. Considering the past abuses he had suffered at the hands of his relatives, this was just a minor inconvenience. That his aunt and uncle had not thrown him out on the street after his seventeenth birthday last month was an unexpected bonus that he did not want them to rethink. The obligation that his mother’s untimely death had imposed on her sister, Petunia, had expired when Harry reached his age of maturity. In the wizarding world, maturity was bestowed at seventeen �“ a fact that Professor Dumbledore had made clear to his aunt and uncle during an unprecedented visit last summer.

Despite the fact that Dumbledore’s attempts at a civilized conversation had been blatantly ignored, Harry was certain that his aunt’s methodical mind had filed every scintillating fact away, the better to taunt Harry with if the opportunity presented itself. Yet, neither she nor Uncle Vernon had made the slightest move to evict him as he had expected on the last stroke of midnight on July 31. Perhaps in their obsession with Dudley’s University career, it seemed like too much extra trouble. After all, they had made ignoring his presence in their home into an Olympic event. Nevertheless, their apathy had unintentionally served Harry’s purposes: as long a he could still call Privet Drive “home”, the ancient magic that protected him from harm held true.

Besides, Harry had long ago prepared for such circumstances by obtaining a supply of magical Floo Powder. He had stowed the little pouch among his other treasures under the loose floorboard in his bedroom. Why, he had even assisted Uncle Vernon in renovating the boarded up chimney that had been mangled by the Weasley family’s disastrous arrival via the Floo Network a number of summers ago.

Always swayed by the latest Muggle fad, Aunt Petunia had insisted that she wanted all the fireplace bricks returned to working order so she could install a large wrought iron stand with candles in place of the customary andirons. It was necessary to completely unblock the chimney to allow the heat and smoke generated by the candles to dissipate into the air.

She never suspected that the entire incident had been orchestrated by Harry himself. After witnessing the possibilities of magical Floo Powder for communication as well as transportation, Harry had concluded that this avenue would be ideal for him should he ever be caught in emergency circumstances. But if Uncle Vernon had insisted on boarding up the fireplace as before, he knew that his dreams of Floo freedom would go up like so much smoke.

In the end, it had just been a matter of leaving the Muggle home magazines and mail order catalogs open to the pages depicting the wrought iron fire stands. Even their neighbor, Mrs. Figg, had commented on the magazine photo and confided to Aunt Petunia that their fireplace was ideal for such a treatment. Good, old Mrs. Figg had been interceding on Harry’s behalf even back then. Only recently had she admitted that she had been assigned by the Order of the Phoenix to keep a watchful eye on him while he was in residence at Privet Drive. That she had been born a Squib only made her cover that much more believable to the Dursleys, who would surely have been suspicious if they sensed anything remotely magical about her.

But despite all of his advance preparations, Harry had not had the luxury of using the Floo Network prior to this summer. There had always been someone about or due back at any minute. It had not taken long for Harry to conclude that these interviews were often day long affairs as his cousin and aunt were often indulged in grand tours of the institutions who dreamed of wooing their tuition money �“ that is, until they actually sat down to review Dudley’s school transcripts.

He knew that even now, the golden days of liberty could suddenly come to an abrupt end. Sooner or later the interviews would cease as Dudley either met with success, or more likely, despaired of finding any school willing to count him among their alumni.

Consequently, from the day of Dudley’s first interview, Harry has wasted no time in contacting his friends via Floo for a welcome bit of conversation. Once it was evident that he would have the entire day to himself, they had expanded their horizons by planning their reconnaissance of the Black townhouse and spending many an afternoon together playing improvised Quidditch matches or simply lounging in the sunlit backyard at the Burrow.

Despite his newfound freedom, Harry did not dare to stray too far into unfamiliar terrain. He was only too aware that evil intentions could lurk behind the most innocent wizard’s façade. Prudently, he had notified the Order and obtained an official escort each time he ventured away from Privet Drive. A direct consequence of which was that he had learned that Mad-Eye Moody was relentless as a Beater and that Hestia Jones could spin the most outrageously funny tales when prompted by a goodly amount of butterbeer. Kingsley Shacklebolt had even taken a turn, although he had admitted he was often too tied to his desk job to get away.

Surprisingly, he had not been assigned to Nymphadora Tonks all summer long. Remus Lupin, he could understand, as he was still probably undercover among the werewolf community. But Tonks? She had always been the first one to volunteer for “Harry duty” as she liked to call it. All of his polite inquiries on her behalf had been turned away with an explanation that she was on a secret mission in a remote locale. Something about this seemed more like an excuse than an explanation, but he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason he felt this way.

Although the ubiquitous presence of a bodyguard had not allowed them to mention Horcruxes by name, their lazy summer afternoons together had allowed them to conclude that they really had no idea where to resume their search. By mutual consent, they had agreed to place their other explorations (code name for Grimmauld Place) temporarily on the back burner �“ at least until they were certain that the risk was truly justified.

Lately, Uncle Vernon had taken to accompanying Aunt Petunia to Dudley’s interviews as if his added bulk would somehow sway the minds of the registrars. The fact that they had left prior to sunup today bespoke of a long journey as Dudley’s potential schools ranged further and further from home. This had expanded Harry’s options considerably.

At Ron’s insistence this morning, he contacted Minerva McGonagall, now firmly entrenched as the new headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She temporarily connected her fireplace to the Floo Network so that Harry could visit her in her new office. They spoke of anything and everything that caught their fancy and Harry was surprised at how easy it was to speak his mind with her �“ after all she was a teacher! The highlight of the afternoon was a resplendent high tea that rivaled the imagination of Lewis Carroll himself. It was served in a private garden to which only the headmaster or headmistress enjoyed unhindered access. He was pleasantly surprised that she had invited Ron and Hermione join them at the table; watching their awed reactions to the exotic surroundings had made Harry chuckle lightheartedly.

“It’s my own private enclave,” Professor McGonagall admitted. “I never knew that it existed all these years; even though I understand that the teaching staff is not prohibited access as long as they are in my company.”

She suspected, though, that Professor Dumbledore had spent many hours in silent contemplation within its walls; often when people had simply assumed he was away on business. That he had sought the cultivating genius of Pomona Sprout, the resident Herbology teacher, was evident by the lush and fragrant vegetation, many of which had been transplanted from tropical climes.

“Students are not traditionally allowed to visit the garden,” she continued, “but I often think that many of the things that we take for rules are simply conventions that no one has considered abandoning. Hopefully, under my tenure at Hogwarts, I will be able to steer some things in new directions.”

Numerous times he bordered on confiding to her about the onerous Horcrux hunt that loomed before him, but thought better of it at the last minute. His first loyalty, he reminded himself, must always be to the memory of Dumbledore. Nothing in her words or demeanor suggested that she had any agenda of her own, but it was just too big a risk to take. He finally admitted that he wanted to take some time to trace his family’s roots this fall, but that was as close to his true intentions that he felt comfortable sharing with
anyone other than Ron and Hermione.

Not surprisingly, she suggested that he begin his search in the Hogwarts library. She even offered to give him unlimited access to the restricted section, as which point he could have sworn he’d seen Hermione noticeably swoon.

Neville would swoon at this garden, Harry couldn’t help but think. Not that he would ever be presumptuous enough to voice that to the headmistress. She had given the three of them a rare gift indeed and he would not impose further on her generosity.

Demonstrating that she had given the subject a great deal of thought, Professor McGonagall outlined an unprecedented agenda of individualized studies that she was prepared to offer each of them if they agreed to return to Hogwarts in September. They would be allowed to set their own subjects, their own timetables, their own goals. They would be permitted to leave the grounds for outside research, but only after obtaining prior approval of a Hogwarts teacher or herself. Remembering Dolores Umbridge’s reign of terror, Harry was able to negotiate that the approval of a member of the Order would suffice as long as notice was sent directly to the headmistress’ office. Turning to Hermione for guidance, she nodded to indicate that she felt this would allow them enough of a loophole to deal with any untoward emergencies.

Taking a moment to steel himself, Harry presented his final roadblock. Speaking only for himself, he clarified, he wished to assume no other responsibilities to school activities or organizations that he would be forced to abandon if he had to leave in mid-term. He did not want any decisions he had to make to be colored by his desire to not disappoint others, he explained.

McGonagall raised a questioning eyebrow at this last point. She was even more surprised when similar requests were put to her first by Ron, and then by Hermione.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked each of them in turn. “Are you aware, Hermione, that we have no other clear candidates for Head Girl at this point?”

Hermione did not back down, however.

In the end, with all of their concerns addressed in turn, they agreed to Professor McGonagall’s proposal. The trio would be returning to Hogwarts for their seventh year �“ even if it turned out to be only a temporary assignment.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

Chapter 4
All Aboard, Again!


Little Whinging, Surrey: a patchwork of cookie-cutter houses, postage stamp sized yards and zealous conformity. A loosely defined society whose members strived to be better than their neighbors without exhibiting any true individual spirit that would ostracize them as eccentrics. A greener, lusher lawn. Flowerbeds that overflowed with a riotous display. A newer, grander automobile. A lengthier holiday in a more exotic locale. Such was the currency by which the residents established their own worth among their fellows.

The perverse reasoning of this world view was so hardwired into the Muggle consciousness that very few ever questioned its inherit contradictions or strove to break out of its mold. Except for the young wizard at number four, Privet Drive, who was anxiously awaiting turning his back on the stifling confines of suburban Muggle respectability and setting off for his last year at school. Secretly dreading that final moment when he would break free of his relatives and set out with no one but himself to satisfy or blame if things didn’t live up to his expectations.

As if sensing his barely contained excitement, the first of September ushered in the gentle touch of fall. Despite the bright morning sunlight, the warmth just couldn’t penetrate a layer of hazy clouds that seemed to insulate the countryside below. A persistent cool breeze wafted through the last of the summer greenery.

Having sent his new seven-compartment trunk ahead together with Hedwig’s cage, Harry had only to wait for his escort to arrive at the door. Now that he was able to travel via Apparition, it would not be such a production to get to Kings Cross Station. Just a short jaunt to the playground on the next block, where a nice patch of woods could camouflage his sudden disappearance from any wayward eyes.

Hermione had insisted that he and Ron meet her for a nice leisurely breakfast at nine. They would be going to a Muggle restaurant just across the street from the train station that was a great favorite of her parents.

Ah, the enticement of a bit of freedom now that they had turned seventeen. The slightly exotic notion of breaking bread among the masses before leaving the Muggle world resolutely behind; it was just too delightful to contemplate. Surely, his escort from the Order would not have any objections.

Promptly at a quarter before the hour, the doorbell to number four rang as if on cue. Even though Harry had been expecting it, he still couldn’t help jumping in anticipation. He opened the door to find Tonks, of all people, dressed exclusively in black except for her lime green hair.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she greeted him, as if she had just seen him yesterday. “What do you think of my new togs, eh? I understand the ‘gothic’ look is the latest thing with Muggles.”

“Er, it’s ‘goth’,” Harry managed to choke out as he was enveloped in a huge bear hug. She sure was strong for a little slip of a witch, he thought.

He made sure to turn the lock, but hesitated before closing the door, knowing the final moment had arrived at last. Now that he was of age, the loophole that had allowed him an extra month’s sanctuary would be irrevocably broken. Somehow it was fitting that the Dursleys were not present to witness the bittersweet moment. They had left so early today that it would have been more accurate to simply say that they had left very, very late last night. Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat and drew the door soundlessly closed.

“I’ve missed ya, Harry,” confided Tonks, her voice filled with a cheeriness that seemed suddenly out of place. She caught him in a brief comforting squeeze, then added in her customary friendly tone, “Did you have a nice summer?”

“Heard you were on a secret mission,” he countered back to her infectious grin, then stopped as he got a really good look at her disguise. “I suppose you’re still undercover, right?”

“You betcha,” she replied. “Little birdy told me that you were wanting to rub elbows with the Muggles this morning and I didn’t want to stand out.”

She’d stand out all right, thought Harry. But since the goth look practically demanded outrageousness, she would probably fit right it. He shook his head at the circuitous logic, and hoped that the restaurant wasn’t one of those buttoned-down clubby places that were so famous in London. The kind that were still askance at having to admit �“ gasp -- women.

But he needn’t have worried. The restaurant turned out to be a yuppie coffee enclave where the counter help had so many body piercings that it was a wonder they didn’t leak. In fact, he felt much more out of place than he had ever felt among Muggles.

“Oh, my mum would have a fit in this place,” Ron joked. “Can you just imagine…”

“What about Aunt Petunia?” added Harry merrily. “Uncle Vernon would probably turn such a deep shade of purple, it would practically be black!”

“Well, then he’d fit right in, wouldn’t he!” countered Ron.

“Oh, you two are incorrigible,” commented Hermione when she finally stopped laughing. “You just don’t get out enough.”

Meanwhile, Tonks was in the midst of an animated discussion with two of the guys at the counter. When she came back with steaming mugs of various hues, she exclaimed, “Blimey, I think those two were trying to chat me up!”

This dissolved the entire group, including Tonks, into gales of laughter. Through his tears of mirth, Harry thought he could discern that Tonks had added a few ear piercings that had not been present when she knocked on his door that morning.


As the magic hour of eleven drew near, they gathered up their belongings, stuffed the last of the biscotti into their pockets for the long train ride, and crossed the street. They were still laughing over the “goth fashion show” as Hermione had dubbed it when they passed seamlessly through the magical barrier that led to Platform 9 ¾. The gleaming red engine of the Hogwarts Express was already billowing clouds of steam in anticipation of its long journey north.

Tonks herded them onto the train, then waved off cheerily to patrol the aisles before departure. Harry stared after her, transfixed by the easy manner in which she wove herself among the new and returning students. Her outlandish attire seemed to melt away so that it was hard to tell her apart form the crowd.

Hermione grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him into the first empty compartment just as the train lurched into motion. Ron was already stretching his lean frame into the other bench as if for a morning nap, while above him, all of their trunks had already been stored neatly. Underneath the far bench, Hedwig hooted contentedly from her cage where it was strapped securely next to Crookshanks’ wicker hamper. Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon, had been been temporarily entrusted to his sister, Ginny.

An orderly row of three ivory envelopes had been arranged on the windowsill. Hermione handed each of them the one that had been labeled with their name in florid purple ink.

“Tonks gave these to me this morning to pass out on the train,” explained Hermione.

“What about the one for Ginny?” Harry asked as he nodded towards the single envelope still perched on the windowsill.

“Oh, she’ll be by later, mate,” chimed in Ron. “Says she has something special to tell you.”

“Do tell, Ron,” urged Hermione in a conspiratorial tone. “Just a little hint?”

“No way,” refused Ron. “She made me promise or--”

“What’d she do, Ron?” Harry laughed. “Did she make you swear an Unbreakable Vow?”

“Trust me,” Ron conceded dryly, “she has her ways, that one does.”

Just then, they caught sight of Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood passing by their compartment. Neville and Luna returned their waves through the glass, but kept on walking towards the front of the train as if on an official errand. They had both changed into their Hogwarts robes even though the train had barely left the station.

“I hear Neville was named Head Boy,” Hermione whispered as if it would not be common knowledge soon enough. “He sure has changed a lot since I helped him locate his frog on our first trip. You do remember Trevor, don’t you?”

They all laughed at the memory. Harry couldn’t help but think how far this boy, who was exactly one day older than he, had come since that first fateful day. How many scrapes and tight spots he’d never have negotiated were it not for Neville coming through at just the right moment. As he had become entrusted with more responsibility, Neville had even begun to shed that hesitant manner that belied his inner strength.

“Do you think that Luna was named Head Girl?” inquired Ron.

“I’d think she was too young,” commented Hermione. “But I can pretty much guarantee that was a prefect’s badge that I saw pinned to her robes.”

The train pitched unexpectedly, sending the envelope bearing Ginny’s name fluttering to the floor. Picking it up, Hermione urged, “What are you waiting for?”

Harry opened his envelope to reveal a hand written invitation in the same purple ink, the handwriting festooned with elaborate flourishes.

Nymphadora Tonks
invites you to a sumptuous picnic lunch
on the occasion of
her triumphant return to Hogwarts.
The pleasure of your company is requested in
Compartment D at 1:30 p.m.

Harry was about to comment that this didn’t sound much like the Tonks he knew, when he noticed a scribbled postscript: Be sure to keep mum as we didn’t bring enough food for the entire train!

Hermione excused herself from the compartment just as a breathless Ginny squeezed through the door.

“So sorry I’m late,” breathed Ginny. Then catching sight of the envelope, she cooed, “Oooh, for me…”

She swung herself with ease onto the seat right next to Harry. Quickly scanning the lines of the invitation, she turned to Harry and commented, “Sure sounds like a lot more fun than all those parties that blowhard Slughorn used to have!”

“Sshh, Ginny,” cautioned Ron in a whisper. “I’m pretty sure he’s still teaching at Hogwarts; might even be on the train.”

But Harry was not really paying attention as he couldn’t keep from staring into Ginny’s brown eyes. Their bodies were separated by only a matter of inches on the bench. Ron mumbled something about going to find Hermione and quietly closed the compartment door behind him.

Harry licked his lips, his throat suddenly dry. He wondered if he could get his voice to be heard over the hammering of his heart.

“Ron said you had something to tell us,” he uttered feebly.

Her eyes lit up immediately and she dug a crumbled letter from her pocket. “I’ve been made Quidditch captain!” she exclaimed, holding the letter out as confirmation.

“Why, that’s great!” Harry congratulated her in a generous tone.

“Then you’re not angry with me for taking over your spot?”

“Of course not,” he assured her. “It was one of the conditions of my return to Hogwarts this year.”

“I don’t suppose that I’m going to be able to convince you to try out, then?”

“Probably not, but I may be available for a consultation or two.” As her smile widened, he cautioned her, “But you will have to pick the team players by yourself �“ that’s what the captain does. Besides, you did just fine without me when you won the Quidditch Cup last year…”

His mouth ran dry as he was immediately overcome by the memory of their first kiss. It had been at that very victory party.

Taking a deep breath, he forged ahead, “You don’t think that was a fluke, do you? Surely, McGonagall doesn’t.”

“Oh, it wasn’t McGonagall that signed the letter. Look.” She placed the paper right into his hand.

In a perfectly neat hand, the letter was signed: “Remus J. Lupin, Head of Gryffindor House.”

“You mean Lupin is back?” Harry cried incredulously.

“It would seem so. Perhaps we can get some more details from Tonks,” offered Ginny.

A giggling group of girls were walking by their compartment window. Looking in and seeing Ginny, they all began to wave excitedly.

“Gotta go, Harry,” she cried. “See you at lunch.”

With a quick squeeze of his hand, she was gone. In her wake, she left a faint flowery scent that Harry remembered all too well.



Before long, Ron and Hermione returned excitedly. The news that Professor Lupin was back at Hogwarts had caused quite a stir.

Hermione was clutching a roll of parchment excitedly in her hand. “You’ll never believe what I’ve got,” she gushed. “The owl practically assaulted me as I passed the observation platform. It’s a job offer from Fred and George!”

“Are you serious?” cried Ron.

Hermione nodded excitedly. “They want me to head up their new Division of Product Design and Testing.”

“So I gather you didn’t get beat up over the loss of the Evil Eye Detector, after all?” Harry inquired, turning to Ron.

Ron shook his head as if he still could not believe his luck. “Fred actually patted me on the shoulder and declared it an acceptable loss -- whatever that means.”

“Then why aren’t they offering you a job, Ron?” inquired Hermione in a pointed fashion. “You did copy the findings report into your own handwriting, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “I did, but they weren’t fooled; especially the part about using it as a magical baby monitor.”

“I suppose I should’ve realized that part would give me away,” Hermione admitted. “But it was such a good idea; Muggles have a similar product already.”

“Oh, they were practically ecstatic about it! Considering that all they had to do was change the packaging, the new version is probably already on the shelves. It’s just that, well,” Ron hesitated, “crawling babies are not exactly the sort of thing seventeen year old wizards have on their minds, you know.”

“Right,” conceded Hermione, laughing. “I see what you mean.”

“Are you going to accept their offer?” inquired Harry.

“I don’t see how I can,” explained Hermione. “They practically want me to start right away, what with their new premises in Hogsmeade. I’ll just have to ask Professor Lupin for his thoughts when I see him again,” she concluded.

It was definitely nice to have Lupin back, thought Harry. He wondered what he would make of the little towel wrapped bundle that was stashed in the secret pocket of his seven-compartment trunk.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 5
Tonks Triumphant


Promptly at half past one, Ginny rapped on their compartment window as she worked her way down the aisle to Compartment D. The four of them arrived en masse before the closed door. Being the last cubicle on that railcar meant that Compartment D was sandwiched between the lavatory and the walkway into the next car. As a result, it was configured in such a way that the sole interior window was on the door itself.

The blinds had been drawn on the window, so Hermione knocked tentatively. The door was opened wide to admit them and they saw the familiar features of Remus Lupin peeking out from behind.

“Come on in, folks,” he offered genially. “Tonks just went to get some butterbeer.”

They squeezed themselves past the door and into the cramped compartment. A large oval table, complete with bright cloth, had been wedge between the benches making it look like a dining booth from a restaurant. From the far bench, Lupin began arranging an extensive array of square white boxes on the tabletop. Then with a flourish of his wand, he touched the tip to the knotted string on each box. Magically the string receded, the boxes unfolded their sides and seemed to dissolve into the tablecloth. In their wake, they left tray after tray of delectable tea sandwiches, meat pasties, cheese, fruits, and in the center, a glistening chocolate cake sprinkled liberally with snowy coconut curls.

“I discovered a true kitchen witch tucked into a little corner of Soho,” offered Lupin conversationally. “Must have walked past her shop a dozen times before I realized what it was. She actually told me that the dingy exterior is meant to discourage Muggles.”

He chuckled at this before continuing, “Did you see the stand that she set up just inside Platform Nine and Three-Quarters this morning? No, I guess you wouldn’t have if you came with Tonks. She’d totally sold out and packed up her display by ten or so. It was a regular feeding frenzy for a while.”

“I saw quite a few white boxes while I was working my way down from the front,” confirmed Ginny. “Looks like picnics are going to be all the rage this year.”

Without warning, the compartment door swung open to admit Tonks, hair a bright yellow halo, bearing such a large rack of butterbeers that she could hardly squeeze between the door and the table.

“The beverage service has arrived,” she announced. “Let the party begin!”

Harry and Ron helped her to settle the wooden rack on the floor. It partially blocked the door, but it would have to do for now. Harry couldn’t help but notice that she had changed outfits again. Underneath her open school robes, she was decked out in the requisite dark jumper and striped tie of Hufflepuff House, complete with tartan wool skirt in the brightest shades of yellow and black imaginable. Ron’s eyes widened to see that the skirt barely reached to the top of her black thigh boots.

Oblivious to the boys’ appraising looks, Tonks was merrily handing out butterbeers all around.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that, Tonks,” Lupin whispered tersely as he eyed her outfit. “It’s unseemly. You can’t very well guard the sheep if you keep getting mistaken for one of the flock.”

“Oh, you’re just jealous that you can’t fit into your old school attire anymore,” she retorted happily. Harry noticed that her boots had vanished and the plaid kilt had been replaced by dark leather jeans.

“I don’t even have my school things anymore,” Lupin replied. “I swear you never throw anything out. Who keeps old clothes lying around like that, anyway?”

“Why, lots of Muggles do,” offered Hermione in defense of Tonks. “My cousin in America told me that her parents keep all sorts of stuff in the attic. They go with their friends to fancy dress balls every Halloween.”

“Oooh, what a great idea!” Ginny spoke up. “Sounds just like what we need at Hogwarts!”

“You know, Ginny, you’re right,” agreed Hermione. “We already have a Halloween feast; add some costumes, a little music, and you’ll have a party.”

“That sounds fabulous!” Tonks’ face lit up as she scooted onto the bench next to the girls. “Have any idea what we could do with ole Remus here?” She motioned across the table with her head.

“I know just the thing,” Hermione’s eyes twinkled as she answered. Then putting her hand up to shield her words from view across the table, she mouthed her suggestion to Ginny and Tonks. Instantly, the other two dissolved into peals of laughter.

Harry, who had ended up perched on a large trunk at the end of the table, had a slightly less obscured view of Hermione’s lips. He thought she had mouthed the words “Roman gladiator”, but he couldn’t be sure.

In between mouthfuls of sandwich, Harry addressed Lupin directly. “So what subject will you be teaching at Hogwarts, Professor?”

“Well, that’s actually a rather interesting story,” drawled Lupin. “So good in fact, that it would not do it justice to start with the conclusion.”

He waited until all heads had turned in his direction before continuing, “A little background information is in order, I suppose. By now you all know that the Order had sent me on a special mission to infiltrate the ranks of the feral werewolves. They were not a welcoming bunch �“ although we did not realize that this was greatly in part to the strong ties that Fenrir Greyback had with the Malfoy family. Then after the direct attack on Hogwarts--”

Harry noticed how artfully Lupin sidestepped any mention of Dumbledore’s murder.

“�”well, it wouldn’t do to be recognized by one of my former pupils, now would it?”

Taking a deep breath, Lupin ploughed on, “So my assignment was pulled. When I got back to my flat, I found a most intriguing document in my letterbox. A letter from Albus Dumbledore…”

Lupin paused for the awed reaction of his listeners.

“…and it was dated two months before his death! I wish I had the actual letter to pass around,” he confessed. “It would add so much more weight to my story. But unfortunately, the parchment was charmed to evaporate once I had read it through to the end. All that was left behind was a large ornate key with the name of an estate agent at Gringotts. I worried that the agent, Marleybones, would not believe my story, but the key was all the assurance he needed. Predicting that my mission would be ending soon, Dumbledore had left me the key to a very unique vacation rental. And because Dumbledore had not been able to get away for the past few years, I was entitled to a whole five weeks.”

“You mean that Dumbledore left you the key to his time-share?” asked Hermione skeptically.

“Ah, but it wasn’t just a time-share,” admitted Lupin with a twinkle in his eye. “Unplottable, unreachable, practically invisible if you didn’t have the key strung ‘round your neck. Located near the rim of a rumbling volcano. The nights were often aglow from the churning lava miles below.”

“Tell them the story behind it,” urged Tonks excitedly.

Lupin’s voice assumed a secretive timbre. “It was a house that had belonged to a great wizard. In a moment of weakness, the wizard had agreed to help out some Muggle friends of his, a cinematographer and his wife, who were making a great epic film about a greater-than-life wizard.”

“You mean a real wizard appeared in a Muggle movie?” Ron was speechless.

“No, no,” Lupin quickly assured him. “It would never do for a wizard to risk the recognition of Muggles everywhere. He became the personal consultant to the actor who played the part of the wizard.”

“Well, if the actor fellow is who I think it is,” interrupted Ginny, “The Quibbler claims he’s a Squib!” She looked up to Lupin for confirmation.

“You know the enchantments on the house prevent me from divulging any details,” shrugged Lupin, without sounding the least bit regretful.

“If it’s who I think it is,” Hermione supplied, “the Muggle tabloids reported he was a--” The rest of her words were lost as she whispered directly into Ginny’s ear. Ginny’s eyes widened briefly before the two girls dissolved into giggles.

“You know that would make a great subject for a Muggle Studies essay,” suggested Hermione as soon as she was able to speak. “The Nature of Scandal in Muggle versus Wizarding Societies.”

“I thought you dropped Muggle Studies,” observed Ron.

“I did,” replied Hermione, “but it would almost be worth taking up again just to see the expression on the teacher’s face.”

Tonks, who had no trouble following their logic, joined in the laughter.

“Oooh, if I could just be a fly on that wall,” Tonks added wistfully. “Is old Jeremy Farquar still teaching Muggle Studies? He must have been 140 in my day.”

“Naw,” Ginny answered with barely suppressed glee, “Professor Farquar is his son. So he must be at least 120!”

More laughter ensued.

“Are they always like this when they get together?” Lupin inquired of the boys.

“It’s Ginny and Tonks,” explained Ron. “Mum always says that they are the female equivalent of Fred and George.”

Lupin winced noticeably. “That’s quite an indictment, you know.”

They nodded in mock agreement before the infectious laughter got the best of them also.

“It took a bit of persuasion to get the Order to agree to my leave request,” Lupin resumed his tale. “And they were absolutely uncompromising when it came to the precaution that all wizards travel in groups. Not to mention that I still needed to brew the Wolfsbane Potion before every full moon. So the Order assigned me the best potion maker in their ranks--” he hesitated for dramatic emphasis as Harry bitterly remembered that such distinction had once belonged to Severus Snape. “None other than Tonks!”

“All this time I thought you were a terrible cook,” gasped Ginny.

“Oh, I am,” admitted Tonks. “World’s worst, positively dreadful. But it turns out that a potion doesn’t have to taste good in order for it to be effective.”

“In the end, it was the absolute remoteness of the site that convinced the Order that it would be relatively safe for two persons to make the journey alone. It took quite a bit of convincing to get the rental agent to issue a second key, though,” Lupin chuckled at the memory. “I remember Alastor Moody actually offering to jinx him in quite a colorful manner if he didn’t comply.”

“Er, Professor, just what sort of jinxes do you use on a goblin?” inquired Ron.

“We weren’t sure, either,” admitted Tonks. “I’m just glad that Moody insisted that each of us have our own key. Turns out you can’t even see the house if you don’t have the ruddy key on your person somehow.”

To their incredulous stares, she continued, “The first night I took off the chain to keep it from bonking the lavatory when I brushed my teeth. Looked up and all the walls had gone transparent on me. Couldn’t even find the counter or the door to the next room. All I could do was stumble around bumping into invisible objects. I could still feel the floor beneath my feet, but when I looked down it was as if I was suspended above a boiling cauldron of lava!”

“Luckily, I heard her screams from the next room,” Lupin added, “so I was able to locate her key and drape it around her neck before she’d totally shrieked herself out.”

Tonks laughed good-naturedly. “Never did have much of a head for heights. Here, I have some pictures,” she added, passing the moving images around. “See this one here.” She pointed to a spectacular shot of a volcano mouth spitting rock fragments into the night sky like fireworks. “You can just see the edge of the house there.” She pointed to the far right of the frame, but Harry could not make out anything but the lip of the volcano.

“I don’t think they can see it,” explained Lupin, gazing intently at the image. “Must be part of the concealment charms. It looks a lot fainter to me, as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if it continued to fade from the pictures as the image fades from our memories.”

Tonks then handed Harry a shot of herself on an unblemished beach, waving wildly from atop a huge sea turtle. Moving pictures followed of Tonks snowboarding down a craggy slope, tumbling merrily into a snowdrift, and a wobbly attempt at windsurfing on a pristine mountain lake.

“Oh, here’s one of you,” she said, nodding to Lupin as she peered at a silhouetted form backlit by lava and the full moon above. “I even managed to perfect Remus’ potion thanks to some unique ingredients that were suggested to me by the local medicine man.”

“That’s right,” added Lupin as she handed him the image. “Not only does this new formula minimize the debilitating effects, but it even allows me to endure direct exposure to the full moon for more than a few seconds without being totally overcome by pain. It’s a truly unique recipe!”

“What I don’t understand, Professor,” interrupted Hermione, “is how can you be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts when everyone knows that position is cursed?”

“Now that’s never actually been proven,” he replied mischievously. “But anyway, I’ll be teaching Transfigurations.”

“But how--” began Hermione.

“You see McGonagall first offered the position to me,” Tonks said, taking over the narrative, “but I turned her down. Never was much good at transfiguring anything other than myself --and that’s not a skill you can teach. A Metamorphmagus has to be born with the talent. So I suggested Remus here as an alternative. She wasn’t immediately sold on the idea even though I showed her this,” she jabbed her finger at the photo of the sea turtle, “but she finally came around when she saw him in person.”

Harry looked up in sudden realization. “You’ve become an Animagus,” he stated in awe.

Lupin nodded, smiling. “I always figured that if the other Marauders could learn to do it, I could, too. But I’d never had the study time to devote to it before now.”

“Do you realize just how rare it is for an Animagus to assume the shape of a reptile?” Hermione interjected. “Why insects are rare enough, but I’ve never even heard of anyone else being registered as a reptile.”

“They told him he was the first at the Ministry office,” Tonks supplied.

“I think that’s what convinced McGonagall in the end,” admitted Lupin. “That and actually witnessing the metamorphosis for herself.”

“So how does all this translate into ‘Tonks’ triumphant return’?” inquired Ginny. “That is what the invitation promised us, isn’t it?”

Tonks and Lupin exchanged conspiratorial looks. “You tell them,” Lupin urged.

“Remus and I got married!” declared Tonks, beaming. “A true tropical ceremony officiated by the local shaman.”

Amid the showers of congratulations offered to the new couple, Harry riffled through the photo images that were scattered over the tabletop. He pulled out an image that showed a trio of figures in front of a native hut amid a lush tropical background. Peering at the figures, he could discern a short man, blue-black of skin, wearing curtains of bright necklaces that came to the top of his loincloth. To the right was a female figure with a long plait of black hair, her body wrapped in a flowered native cloth. Could this be Tonks? He focused on the tall figure that stood behind, holding an upright spear in his left hand. His skin was a bronze shade considerably lighter than that of the woman and old man. Other than a number of thick orchid necklaces draped around his neck, his sole piece of clothing was a bright piece of cloth tied sarong-fashion around his waist. Could this be Lupin?

“There’s the photo,” Tonks declared as she passed it from Harry to the others in the group. “I’m calling it ‘Tropical Gothic’ in light of the solemn expressions.”

“Is that really you?” gasped Ginny.

“You betcha. I can go native with the best of them,” admitted Tonks proudly. “I should see about getting that shot enlarged, though. Remus insisted that the photographer take a wide shot so that the swaying of the jungle vegetation could be seen.”

“It was a very unusual ceremony, too,” volunteered Lupin, clearly anxious to change the subject. “There were a number of qualifying trials that were surprisingly similar to those used in wizard tournaments; although on a much smaller scale, of course. One of them even involved walking barefoot across a bed of hot coals.”

“We both had to do that one,” Tonks added. “The shaman insisted that we had to demonstrate that we had the necessary fortitude for marriage.”

“Blimey,” Ron blurted, “can you just imagine Fleur having to do such a thing? I mean, Bill could do it….”

“I think that Veela have wings, Ron,” Harry reminded him with a laugh. “Or she’d find some other way around it, for sure.”

“But neither of you are wearing any wedding rings,” observed Hermione pragmatically.

“That’s not really the native custom,” explained Lupin.

Tonks pulled back her shirt sleeve to reveal an elaborate set of silver bracelets entwined with a delicate network of chains. “They have wedding cuffs.”

“You mean like hand-cuffs?” Ron suggested merrily.

“Not exactly.” Tonks’ tone was laced with amusement. “The women’s cuff is designed to show off the daintiness of her wrist, while the men’s cuff demonstrates his prowess by encircling the muscles of his upper arm.” She looked expectantly at Lupin. “Aren’t you going to roll back your sleeve and show them?” she asked gazing at his battered tweed jacket.

“Absolutely not,” declared Lupin with as much dignity as he could muster amid the laughter. “They will have to make do with the image in the photograph.”

“So, who’s going to be taking over the Dark Arts class?” asked Ron doggedly.

“I am,” declared Tonks proudly. “And don’t go worrying about that curse, either,” she warned. “I won’t be able to take leave of my Auror duties for more than a year, no matter how you look at it. Besides, what kind of an example would I be setting for the female students if my only claim to fame was as a professor’s wife?” she added patting Lupin’s hand reassuringly. “I’ve always wanted to train my own unit of elite commandos,” she announced with a sly reference to Dumbledore’s Army. “A girl’s got to have a few accomplishments under her own belt, you know.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 6
Lupin’s Career Advice


After the last crumbs of the chocolate cake had been consumed, Hermione offered to help Lupin with the clean-up duties. He demonstrated the proper wand movement and then briefly touched the edge of one of the empty platters. The glass seemed to pool momentarily into a puddle before assuming the shape of an empty soda bottle.

“Now all you do is put the bottle in the crate among the empties,” finished Lupin with a grand flourish. “Complete recycling in a flash.”

“What happens to the leftovers?” inquired Ron, looking up from the moving photos that Tonks was animatedly narrating.

“They just get reduced inside the bottle,” explained Lupin as he touched his wand to a tray that still contained a few mangled sandwiches. He held up the resulting bottle, this one a light aqua hue, which displayed a whitish lump in the bottom.

“Will you be teaching this technique in Transfigurations this year?” Ron asked excitedly. “My mum would be beside herself!”

“It’s not actually my technique, Ron,” replied Lupin. “It’s part of the product offered by the witch who prepares the food boxes; simplifies clean-up outdoors.”

“I guess that would make her a green kitchen witch,” offered Hermione wryly, but the reference to Muggle slang was lost on Ron as usual.

As clean-up was completed in record time, a glow of contentment seemed to settle over the group. The golden rays of the late afternoon sun slanted through the compartment window as the train continued its long journey northward. Tonks had gathered Ginny and the boys to the other side of the table as she regaled them with still another outrageous tale of her summer adventures with Lupin.

Certain that she would finally not be interrupted, Hermione sat down on the bench next to Lupin.

“Can I ask your advice, Professor?” she ventured as she unfolded the letter from Fred and George and handed it to Lupin.

“Of course, Hermione,” Lupin offered kindly. “Let me see what we have here.” After carefully reading through the contents of the letter, he handed it back to Hermione. “Quite a generous offer, I would say.”

Hermione nodded, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I take it that you’re not in a position to accept at this time?” he surmised.

She shook her head. “I really want to finish my schooling and I can’t just abandon Harry right now. I �” both Ron and I �” have promised to stick with him for the remainder of the year…” She trailed off, uncertain of how much detail she should confide.

“And you don’t feel that this is a journey that Harry is prepared to make on his own,” he intuitively finished for her.

Hermione nodded gratefully and then continued, “But at the same time, it’s a generous offer as you said, and it certainly sounds like a job that would be fun to do.”

“Do you think that they may be willing to wait for you until you finished at Hogwarts?” suggested Lupin helpfully.

Hermione shook her head sadly. “They need someone right away with the new location in Hogsmeade and all.”

“I hadn’t realized that the novelty business was such a lucrative one, especially in these uncertain times.” Lupin’s gift for understatement was evident. “I suppose people do need something to take their minds off their troubles, eh?”

“They have actually been expanding their product lines considerably. Turns out that a lot of their products have proven useful to the Ministry of Magic. Ron told me that they received an exclusive contract for the Shield Hats they developed last year.”

“So, this explains why they are so keen on recruiting a witch of your talents. You are uniquely capable of thinking ‘outside the box’ in both wizarding and Muggle terms.” Lupin paused to reflect a moment. “And you are certain that this is a job that would appeal to you?”

Hermione nodded eagerly.

“All right,” Lupin considered as he folded his hands in his lap. “Often a job offer such as this can be seen as a preliminary offer. An opening bid in negotiations, so to speak. Make them a counter offer. Determine just what it is you are able to offer them, bearing your current commitments in mind, and see if that’s acceptable to them.”

“You mean, like ‘run it up the flagpole’?” replied Hermione.

“Exactly,” agreed Lupin. “You will have to try to keep me up with the latest Muggle slang,” he added in a whisper. “It’s the only weapon I’ll ever have with Tonks.”

Hermione agreed without hesitation. “It’s a deal, Professor,” she whispered back.

“Now when exactly were you to respond back?” Lupin inquired, pointing to the letter.

Hermione consulted the crumbled page once again. “They said I should launch my reply about the time the train passes over the series of tall bridges that span the river gorge. That way the owl would not have to fly as far to Hogsmeade. The train usually reaches that point about dusk,” she mused, appraising the slanting light coming in through the blinds.

“Then you have about an hour or so to draft your response,” concluded Lupin. “No one will think the lesser of you if you sneak back to your compartment. I will convey your regards to Tonks. When she finally comes up for air, that is.”

With a whispered word of thanks to Lupin, Hermione slipped out the door noiselessly. The last thing she heard was Lupin joining in merrily with the raucous laughter from Tonks’ storytelling.



Harry found Hermione leaning over the railing of the observation car as the first faint stars could be seen sparkling near the horizon. The last reddish glow of the sunset was slowing fading into the velvety violet of evening. They would be arriving at Hogwarts castle within the hour.

“I see you’ve already changed into your school robes,” he observed conversationally as he leaned on the railing next to her.

She nodded in reply, staring off into the treetops. “I was seeing if I could get a signal out here, but is seems hopeless.” She folded her mobile telephone into her robes.

Turning toward Harry, she continued, “I was hoping I could touch base with my cousin one more time before I pass through the gates--”

“--where everyone knows that electronics no longer function,” finished Harry for her.

Ron sidled onto the platform to the other side of Hermione. He, too, had donned his school robes and they flapped eagerly against the silver bars.

“What’s up, guys?” he asked.

“Hermione was just making a last ditch attempt to contact her cousin,” Harry explained.

“From the observation platform?” asked Ron incredulously. “I thought your cousin was a Muggle. How could you be sending him an owl?”

“My cousin is a Muggle and, no, I was not sending her an owl, Ron,” explained Hermione patiently. Her careful emphasis indicating that she was not willing to take any chances with Ron’s legendary jealousy.

She fished her mobile device from the pockets of her robes and flipped open the cover. The empty screen glowed eerily in the twilight. “Modern Muggles communicate using this device.”

Ron leaned in for a closer look at the alien technology. “So it works just like one of those mirror pairs that wizards have?” he observed.

Hermione nodded her approval and Harry noted that Ron was getting much more adept at understanding the parallels between magical devices and technology.

The reference to magical mirrors brought an unexpected pang, though, as Harry remembered the gift from his godfather, Sirius. The broken shards were still wrapped in newspaper in the bottom of his trunk. He wondered if the pieces could be repaired magically �“ and then what? Where was the twin to the mirror? Was it secreted somewhere at Grimmauld Place where it could provide them with a view of what was transpiring within those walls? Could it still be possible to communicate with Sirius from behind the veil, even though his previous attempt had not been successful? All issues that he had shoved into the back of his mind, but perhaps the time had come to explore them further. He made a mental note that the properties of twin magical objects would be a good subject with which to begin his independent studies.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp cry from Hermione. In her excitement, she began to crane her body over the platform railing. Ron had already grabbed her by the sleeve of her robes and was entwining his arm protectively around her waist.

“Is that speck a return owl from Fred and George?” she cried, pointing into the treetops.

“So you accepted their offer after all?” asked Harry, his heart sinking unexpectedly.

“Lupin suggested I make them a counter offer,” she answered breathlessly. “That’s why I left the luncheon early. I had to draft my response in time to launch it from the gorge.”

The train rounded a bend in the track and offered the first spectacular view of the majestic Hogwarts towers silhouetted against the approaching twilight.

“Blimey, we’re almost there!” shouted Ron. “I’ll hold down the fort here, Harry. You’d better go change into your robes.”

Ron arched his ginger eyebrow knowingly, instantly reminding Harry of the fiasco that had ensued last year when he had not arrived at the gates in the proper school attire. No need to get house points docked this early again, Harry mused, as he dashed down the corridor to the men’s lavatory.




Harrry returned to a scene of utter chaos in their compartment. Hermione was jumping up and down excitedly while a huge barn owl flew circles over her head. Ron was standing up on the bench trying to catch the owl but only making it fly more erratically. Hedwig was hooting her disapproval from her cage below.

“Thank goodness you’re back, Harry!” cried Ron in desperation. “Can you please get this ruddy bird some owl pellets? It’s exhausted from trying to outrun a steam engine, the feathered fool!”

Harry chuckled at the way Ron’s eloquence always seemed to flower in moments of exasperation. The act of filling his hand with a generous mound of pellets lured the errant owl onto Harry’s out-stretched arm. It tilted its graceful head so that it could watch him with one luminous eye while it delicately retrieved the pellets with its curved beak. An impatient fluttering of its wings indicated that it was ready for its return flight.

“Any return message?” inquired Harry. Hermione looked up from the letter that her eyes were hungrily devouring for the fourth or fifth time. She shook her head to the negative. Harry allowed his arm to lead the way to the open platform where he watched the owl quickly disappear into the night.

Hedwig was still hooting mournfully when Harry rejoined the others. He quickly handed her a portion of owl nuts through the cage bars to soothe her wounded psyche. By Hermione’s expectant expression, he could see that she had been impatiently awaiting his return.

“Oh, Harry,” she gushed, “they accepted my counter offer! They’re going to allow us to do the product testing on a free-lance basis. You know, sort of like consultants. I even get to choose which products to test.”

“What’s this ‘we’ business?” Ron asked suspiciously. “Sounds like a lot of extra work to me.”

“Oh, Ron,” she implored, moving closer to him along the bench, “you know I’ll prepare all the reports. But I will definitely need help from both of you to test these items in practical situations. You will both be getting a portion of the salary,” she offered, holding out the crumpled parchment for them to examine.

Ron’s eyes widened appreciatively as he read the offer. Wordlessly, he handed it to Harry.

“How did you convince them to hire all three of us, Hermione?” inquired Harry skeptically.

“I simply explained that I planned to spend a good part of my time among the restricted section of the library,” she elaborated, “but that if it was field testing that they wanted, then adding the two of you into the mix practically guaranteed dangerous exploits and adventures.”

Harry laughed appreciatively at Hermione’s deviousness. Slapping the still glum Ron genially on the back, he assured him, “Don’t you see, Ron? She single-handedly got us an excuse to get outside of school grounds, a whole new arsenal of cool gadgets to assist us, and a bit of spending money on the side!”

“Well, if you put it that way,” Ron’s tone was beginning to brighten up. “I guess I could force myself to accept a salary from my own brothers.” Then as another thought hit him, he added, “You know McGonagall’s probably not going to like this.”

“Who says we’re going to tell her?” replied Hermione with a sly twinkle, her grin taking on a mischievous slant.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 7
Privileges


Harry's first day back at Hogwarts dawned grey and misty. A quick look out the mullioned tower window was all the convincing that he needed to burrow down among the warm bedclothes and go back to sleep. He sighed contentedly as he remembered that the headmistress had not set their first appointments until half past ten today.

He was awakened sometime later by an insistent tapping on his window. A flick of the heavy, red curtain revealed Hedwig's fluffy, white head through the iron grille. The daylight was slightly brighter but still filtered through a thick layer of mist. He sat up and undid the latch so that the window swung outward to admit the owl. She settled briefly onto the open lid of Harry's trunk; then once he fed her an owl treat flew off impatiently into the mists. She must be eager to stretch her wings after yesterday's long journey, he sighed.

Harry casually glanced at the dial of his new wristwatch which lay on the nightstand. With a jolt, he realized that it had stopped sometime in the night, the magical currents within the castle having rendered its battery ineffective. Luckily its paralysis was only temporary as it would start up again once he left school grounds. Somewhere in the bottom of his trunk he would need to excavate his trusty wind-up watch and alarm clock that had served him throughout his years at Hogwarts.

Without bothering with slippers, Harry raced across the cold flagstones and ventured a peek at the clock in the common room. With the curtains drawn and the fire down to its last embers, he could not distinguish the dial from across the room. Disgusted with his own negligence, he threw a robe hastily over his nightclothes and crossed into the common area, resisting the urge to tip-toe even though it was so abnormally quiet.

The clock face revealed that it was only a few minutes past nine. No point in going back to sleep, he concluded, and run another risk of over-sleeping. Harry found that a tea kettle seemed to materialize on the table at his elbow. Pouring himself a generous mug, he took a preliminary sip, then added sugar and lemon. A small milk pitcher appeared next to the pot, but dissolved almost instantly when it failed to capture his attention. He sighed audibly and sank down into one of the armchairs to savor his good fortune.

Last night's welcoming feast had been a combination of tradition and innovation in the hands of the new headmistress. Harry hardly remembered the sorting ceremony as it seemed as if it was over almost before it had begun. New enrollments at Hogwarts were definitely down this year but that was to be expected in these uncertain times. She had begun with a few remarks that stressed that her tenure would take Hogwarts into new directions. Harry concluded that he must have dozed inadvertently at this point as he could not remember any other details of her welcoming speech -- until she got to the part where she introduced the new teachers, that is.

He remembered that despite the Professor's best attempts to remain unobtrusive, the whispered anticipations had begun almost from the moment that Lupin had slipped into the empty chair next to Professor Flitwick. He had ushered Tonks in before him and everyone had ample time to notice her bright, violet hair as she made her way to the empty seat between Hagrid and Professor Trelawney.

The announcement that Tonks would be assuming the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts generated much enthusiasm as Professor McGonagall introduced her as: "Nymphadora Tonks, on temporary leave from the Ministry of Magic, Auror Division." Although dwarfed by Hagrid's great bulk, her high voltage smile made sure that she was noticed by all. Harry was gladdened to see that the applause the other teachers gave her was not marred by the sour expression that Severus Snape seemed to have reserved especially for such occasions.

The thunderous applause that greeted the announcement of Remus Lupin as the new Transfiguration teacher was quickly eclipsed by the announcement, Professor McGonagall's voice visibly straining, of his assuming duties as Head of Gryffindor House. And it was not just the Gryffindors that were pounding on the tables, Harry was gratified to note.

Everyone was still in high spirits when the last vestiges of dessert were whisked magically away and the headmistress dismissed them for their dormitories. Lupin was practically engulfed in a sea of students all wishing him a fond welcome back as he stepped down from the head table to assist Neville with rounding up the Gryffindors. His initial modesty over the undue attention soon melted into genuine enthusiasm as he was slapped on the back for the hundred and twelfth time that night.

In the end, Harry, Ron and Hermione had stepped in to assist Luna with shepherding the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and even a few Slytherins back to their own groups. Neville had abandoned any attempts to organize an orderly procession by the time that the great mass of Gryffindor House surged up the grand staircase in the wake of Professor Lupin. It was only when he noticed Lupin trying to catch Tonks's eye apologetically that Harry realized that no announcement of their marriage had taken place.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had been the last to climb the tower stairs after returning from the other corners of the castle. They had found the headmistress waiting for them at the portrait hole.

"Sorry we missed the password, Headmistress," apologized Harry.

"I suppose Neville is still within," she responded, motioning towards the portrait of the Fat Lady that led to the Gryffindor Common Room. "No matter, I'm sure Professor Lupin will send him along later." Then turning on her heel, she remarked curtly, "Follow me, please."

The Fat Lady stared at them in dismay as they passed her by. To their bewilderment, the headmistress led them around the tower gallery until they were on the far side from the portrait hole. Then tapping the banister at a slightly discolored spot with her wand, she summoned a narrow staircase that led to a small stone sconce on the opposite wall. With a brisk step, she led them upward. The sconce appeared to magically increase in size and then opened of its own accord as the headmistress reached the last few steps. There was hardly any landing at all so she put protocol aside as she stepped through and waited for them to follow. Once they were all inside, a corresponding sconce on the inside swung shut soundly.

"Welcome to your new quarters," she said with a rare smile. She proceeded to pin a tiny gold lion to the school emblem on each of their robes. "No passwords needed as long as you have the amulet with you at all times. The staircase will respond to the tap of your wand automatically."

Harry looked around appreciatively. They were at the topmost floor of the Gryffindor Tower so the ceiling came to a very high point with the chandeliers hanging on extra long chains. Around the apex of the ceiling were a number of small glass windows that would allow for natural light during the day.

"For those of you who are fond of broomsticks, I might add," she looked pointedly at Harry and Ron in turn, "the skylight windows do not open." She opened one of the four doors that were spaced out among the walls. "The windows in the bedrooms can be unlatched; but I warn you that you are at one of the highest points in the castle walls. Please do not venture for a walk among the parapets; they are enchanted to prevent falls, but do not risk it anyway. And yes," she looked at Harry and Ron again, "the charms will prevent anyone other than an owl from launching off the tower window."

Hermione quickly composed her face as the headmistress turned to address her in turn. She ushered her into a room on the far side of the cheerfully glowing fire, "This, my dear, is your room. You will notice that the furniture is more in keeping with the needs of a young lady." Harry craned his neck past the door frame as much as he dared, remembering the repelling charms from the girls dormitory below. Although clearly made of the same materials as in the boys' rooms, the furniture was scaled differently with more elaborate curves and sinews. The four-poster bed was familiar from their previous dormitories but Hermione's had been hung with sheer silks and taffetas instead of heavy velvets.

Tapping lightly on the wicker basket that was poised on the settee, Professor McGonagall magically released the lid so that Crookshanks could survey his new domain. He quickly jumped to the windowsill and meowed to indicate that he was ready for his evening prowl.

"Is it safe for a cat?" inquired Hermione.

"I believe so. There is a twelve inch stone ledge that runs around the tower right at window height," confirmed McGonagall with a very unusual twinkle in her eye. "Cats generally have few problems with heights. This one in particular has shown remarkable common sense." She patted the ginger fur delicately and raised an instant purr. "Just remember that he won't be able to trip the entrance or the staircase by himself. No, not even if you attach your lion amulet to his collar so don't even think in those terms."

They heard the hollow noise of the stone sconce opening in the outer room to admit another. A rather disheveled Neville was staring in awe around him. Harry had the distinct impression that Professor Lupin had waved briefly before being swallowed up by the wall. Suddenly he felt just as tired as Neville looked, and allowed his body to collapse gratefully into one of the armchairs nearby.

"It's so much to take in," gushed Hermione, never at a loss for words for very long. "I don't know what we ever did to deserve such luxury. None of this was ever mentioned in Hogwarts: A History."

"Well, my dear," replied the headmistress, "not everything is to be found in books -- at least, not all the time."

With a flourish, she handed them each an ornate silver key on a chain. She demonstrated how the length of the chain magically adjusted if one chose to wear it as a necklace, as a bracelet and even as a belt.

"Pretty hard to lose," she explained and turned pointedly to Neville. "This will allow you access into a special private bathroom." She opened the doors to a huge wardrobe that stood between two of the boys' rooms to indicate the secret passage. "The key will be hot to the touch if the facilities are already occupied -- but I recommend that you lock the door nevertheless."

She chuckled amicably as Ron wrapped his key chain into a make-shift turban.

"You might find that the weight will give you a headache, Mr. Weasley," she added. "Both the lion amulet and the key are charmed to resist loss. However, remember that both your Head of House and myself have access to these suites, so please report any mishaps. We can magically trigger either the key or the lion to dissolve remotely, even if you can't remember where you left it. We can't risk such things falling into the wrong hands."

Hermione roughly shook Ron by the shoulder as he was beginning to nod off in the chair next to her. Harry noticed that she had propped her hip on the arm of the same chair to keep from swaying on her feet.

"I can see you are all tired," concluded Professor McGonagall in a sympathetic tone. She snapped her fingers and four small parchment rolls tied with red ribbons appeared on the sideboard. "Review the guidelines at your leisure. I will see you all outside my office at half past ten tomorrow morning for your advisor assignments."

With that she had gone through the sconce in a flash.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Harry walked over to the window and threw back the sash to allow a sullen bit of light into the circular room. He noticed that in his exhaustion he had worn the ornate washroom key to bed the night before.

Time for a hot shower, he yawned languidly, as he opened the wardrobe doors wide. He had to stand aside briefly to allow a noticeably damp Hermione to pass, still toweling her hair dry. The look of pure bliss on her face indicated that he was in for a treat.

Nevertheless, he was showered and dressed in record time at the insistence of his stomach. He found that Ron and Neville had waited for him before descending to the Great Hall. Hermione caught up with them breathlessly and the four of them descended the last flight of the grand staircase together.

The vast hall was virtually empty as most other students were already in class. A few house-elves were in the process of removing the last of the breakfast trays and tiding things up.

Noticing the late-comers, one particularly tiny elf bounded up to them. "Are you the students from the Seventh Form?" she beseeched them.

Ron's stomach growled in protest. "Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly.

"The headmistress warned me to be on the lookout for you this morning," she squeaked. "The breakfast things are generally put away by now, but seeing as she could not meet with you until later today, she asked us to linger 'specially in case you wandered in."

With a snap of her nimble fingers, four plates of bacon, sausages and eggs appeared on the table to their right. A basket of scones with tiny pots of butter and marmalade materialized in the center just as they finished seating themselves. No further conversation ensued as they all heartily tucked into their food.

"I hope everything is to your liking," offered the elf genially. Then leaning over in a whisper she added, "You can have your breakfasts delivered to your tower. Just pull on the velvet cord next to the fireplace. We often have additional offerings that do not appear in the Great Hall."

With a parting wink and soft "pop", the diminutive elf Disapparated. She reappeared almost instantly to usher in another late-comer on the far side of the hall.

Before Harry had a chance to greet the other student, Hermione jumped up from her seat and exclaimed, "Will you look at the hour! We're going to be late for our first appointment with Professor McGonagall!" She hastily gathered up her things and shot out through the doors.

Harry rolled his eyes in sympathy as Ron shoved one last forkful of sausages into his mouth. Neville had the foresight to grab the basket of scones as they followed in her wake.

As they rounded the last corner before the headmistress's office, Harry realized that they had not been given the password necessary to bypass the stone gargoyle at the entrance. Before they had a chance to consider their next step though, Professor McGonagall came striding purposely from the other direction.

"No time for meetings now; we've had a last minute change of plans," she said brightly as she herded them in the direction of the nearest staircase. Leading the way down several flights she added, "You are in for a special treat today. You have been invited to participate in the fifth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff groups. Professor Tonks has added some new content this year that I am sure you will recognize from my opening remarks last night."

Harry and Ron exchanged rather glum looks to indicate that their seventh year was not exactly starting in the manner that they had anticipated.

McGonagall halted the small procession around the corner from the familiar first floor classroom, just out of sight of the streaming fifth-year students.

"Just in case I don't get a chance to do this later," she said as she passed out small white cards to each of them, "here are your advisor assignments for the individualized curriculum that we discussed. I have taken the liberty of setting the preliminary appointments for you."

Harry quickly glanced at his card. He was set to meet with Professor Lupin at two o'clock this afternoon.

He saw that Ron had a two o'clock appointment also but his was with Professor Flitwick. Neville's delighted expression could only indicate that he had been assigned to Professor Sprout. A quick glance to Hermione, however, showed that she was less pleased with her assignment.

She cleared her throat nervously, "Er, Headmistress, I had assumed that you would serve as my advisor."

"I thought so too, Miss Granger," McGonagall replied in an apologetic tone, "but there are just too many items on my agenda at this time. Think of it as a temporary assignment until I can find a bit of space on my calendar."

"But Professor Hooch is nothing more than the wizarding equivalent of a physical education instructor," Hermione pleaded.

"No, no," soothed McGonagall, taking her aside. "I'm really not allowed to make any formal announcements at this time," she whispered, "but by next week, I hope to have Professor Hooch teaching -- " The remainder of the statement was unintelligible to anyone other than Hermione but the effect was immediate.

"Come, come," urged Professor McGonagall as she herded them into a classroom that had often reminded Harry of a cathedral. She steered Hermione away from her customary spot in the teacher's primary line of sight. "I've been told that the best seats are in the back," the headmistress whispered enigmatically.

Seeing that the four of them were comfortably installed in the last row, McGonagall glanced briefly at the miniature hourglass that she wore on a neck chain and turned to go. As the last moment, she caught sight of the basket that Neville had perched on his desktop.

"How thoughtful of you to bring refreshments, dear," she smiled. Then lifting the basket into her arms, she was gone is a swirl of long, tartan robes.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 8
The New General


From his seat in the back row, Harry could just make out the huge face of the Hogwarts clock tower as the hands ticked ever closer to the eleventh hour. The students were chatting respectfully among themselves but there was still no teacher in sight.

As the resonance from the eleventh chime faded slowly, a dark haired Hufflepuff girl rose from her desk in the second row to retrieve a paper airplane that had just flown past her shoulder. Unnoticed by the majority of the class, she walked silently up to the podium and turned to address them.

“Good morning, and welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she intoned with great gusto. “My name is Tonks. Professor Tonks to you, that is.” She stepped around the podium and casually strolled down the middle aisle reviewing each of the upturned faces in turn. As she did so, her face slowly transformed into its familiar heart shape and her haired changed into deep blue spikes. She paused in the middle of the room to make sure that the effect was not lost on anyone. There was an audible gasp from the entire class.

“I am a Metamorphmagus. Today we are here to discuss concealment and disguise.”

Harry smiled as he realized how effortless and completely she had just captured the undivided attention of the class.

“Did you see that transformation?” gasped Hermione in a barely audible whisper. “It was an unabashed homage to Professor McGonagall; too bad she’s not here to see it.”

Neville nudged her arm slightly and pointed to the far wall from behind his cupped palm. With a slight turn of his head, Harry could see that a tabby cat with very unique stripes was perched on what looked like a small window sill. He returned his attention to the front of the room lest he needlessly disrupt the rhythm of the class.

Tonks had changed her hair color to a bright yellow as she continued, “Now you may ask yourself why this is a subject for a Defense Against the Dark Arts class instead of Transfigurations… Alas, I cannot train you to be a Metamorphmagus,” she frowned ever so slightly. “Metamorphmagi are born that way; and it is a very rare talent indeed. But I can use my talent and skills to bring out your own innate abilities in this area �“ skills that many of you may not recognize that you possess. But before we launch into the meat of the lesson, let’s briefly address the importance of concealment and disguise.” She looked around at the rapt audience. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

Quick as a flash, Ron’s hand silently pinned Hermione’s wrist to the desktop. He shook his head slightly, effectively reminding Hermione of her role as an observer.

“What did the headmistress say in her opening remarks?” Still receiving no response, Tonks assumed a pose reminiscent of Ron’s mother and in her best scolding tone she added, “Surely, not everyone was asleep now were they?”

As the class tittered in appreciation, a hand in the second row was raised slowly into the air. Tonks immediately nodded to the student that she had permission to stand.

Beginning tentatively at first, then with greater confidence the girl replied, “The headmistress said that we should not be fooled by tales of bravery and glory. That it was better to live to fight another day than to sacrifice ourselves in senseless battle.”

“Very good, Rachel,” Tonks congratulated her after referring to the class roster. “Any other suggestions?”

Tonks pointed to a tall boy from the back of the room who stood up almost immediately. “That it is not cowardice to turn from a fight if you don’t have the necessary skills to win.”

“Excellent viewpoint. Well, we are here to teach you the skills to win your fight: but until you master them, it is important to learn to blend into the background -- to melt into the crowd. In order to do this, we must first and foremost be aware of our limitations. If you will give me one moment to prepare,” she intoned as she briefly turned her back to the class.

When Tonks turned around, though, she had assumed a new face complete with long, honey colored plaits. There was a sharp intake of breath from the class as a whole. She leaned and whispered something to the girl in the aisle seat immediately before her. So that everyone could hear Tonks added, “Now turn around and face the class, Jessica.”

Jessica swiveled around in her chair to reveal a face almost identical to that which Tonks had assumed. The gasp was louder this time with an edge of disquiet.

“Now stand up, dear,” urged Tonks, “right here next to me.” The crowd dissolved into laughter as it was revealed that Jessica was almost a head taller than Tonks.

“Know your limitations,” Tonks repeated her mantra. She recruited a dark haired boy from the other side of the room to stand beside her while she once again turned to face away from the class. This time when she turned back, her hair was just as dark and just as short as the boy’s, she had donned the dark flannel slacks of his uniform, but her features and physique made it plainly evident that she was not a man. The class dissolved in laughter.

“I don’t make a very convincing man,” she conceded. “Nor can I effectively imitate his voice. Say Tonks, Robert, say my name,” she urged.

“Professor Tonks,” he replied politely in a deep baritone.

“Know your limitations,” repeated Tonks as she thanked him.

Returning to the middle of the aisle, Tonks assumed the helm once more, “So just what weapons do you, who are not Metamorphmagi, have in your arsenal? Why you can change your hairstyle, hair length and even hair color -- although that takes a bit of advance preparation. But most importantly, you can change your clothing. Let’s do another exercise,” she straightened her shoulders and resumed the attire of Hufflepuff House.

Lupin was right, thought Harry, it was extremely disconcerting �“ but very effective.

“Now when I first came in you assumed I was from Hufflepuff because I was dressed in this manner. But during my years at Hogwarts �“ and it was not that long ago, mind you,” she got some good chuckles out of that one, “the uniform was as thus.” She waved her hand magically down her body and she was wearing the lurid plaid skirt that Harry remembered from the train ride. He noticed that the hem had been modified to a more modest length, however.

“None of you would be fooled by this uniform because you are familiar with the current style, but what about in the Muggle world? Would this pass for a Muggle school uniform?” There were appreciative nods from just about everyone except Hermione who shook her head slightly. “Is there anything that would give me away?”

When no one offered a response, Tonks approached the end of the aisle and gestured towards the back table, “Miss Granger, as an observer in today’s lesson and one who comes from a Muggle home, can you help me out here?”

All heads swerved at once to the back of the room as Harry elbowed Ron to release Hermione’s wrist so that she could stand up. Smiling politely to the crowd Hermione offered, “The school crest on your jumper, Professor. Muggles have never heard of Hogwarts and the last thing you need is a conversation starter right on your chest.”

Before Tonks could finish thanking Hermione the other class members were emboldened to offer their suggestions as well. One girl stood up without waiting to be recognized and stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “Muggles don’t wear school robes any more.”

From the other side of the room, another student stood up and countered with, “They do at Oxford -- at least when they’re meeting with their dons. My older sister attends University there.”

Harry was gratified to see that Tonks did not humiliate anyone that spoke out of turn. The relaxed rules made for a livelier class discussion.

As she returned to the middle of the room, Tonks magically dissolved the Hogwarts crest from her jumper and shrank the school robes until they became a muffler around her neck. “Any other--” She was stopped in mid-stride by a particularly small girl, tugging on the sleeve of her jumper. Wordlessly, the girl pulled a magazine out of her book bag and showed it to Tonks. Tonks leaned over as the girl whispered some words into her ear.

“Do you have such an object?” Tonks assumed a louder whisper that could be heard by most of the class. “Can you summon it?” The girl nodded excitedly. “Go out in the hall and please do so from there then.”

The girl trotted excitedly from the room with her wand clutched purposefully in her tiny hand.

Tonks again addressed the room as she carefully placed the magazine cover face down on the podium. “Now Molly here is a very astute observer of Muggles and she has suggested some very innovative changes to my attire….” In deliberate slow motion, Tonks shrank the obligatory white button-down shirt until it disappeared along with the school tie. The simple black jumper was shortened in the sleeves and in the torso until it became a rather form-fitting T-shirt that barely reached the top of the yellow kilt.

Unperturbed by the fact that every eye in the room was glued on her body, Tonks asked for additional requests from the audience. “What about the shoes?” she asked.

From the back of the room, “Doc Martens.”

Another voice, “With white socks.”

“No, white stockings.”

“Stockings that end above the knee.”

“The skirt needs to be shorter,” the sole male voice.

Harry was relieved to note that the last had not come from Ron, although he could no longer keep track of the faces as the contributions came in rapid fire from all sections of the room. They had even dispensed with the formality of standing up to answer.

All heads turned as Molly walked back up the aisle with a mysterious bundle wrapped in her school robes. She handed it to Tonks who detained her by the shoulder and motioned for her assistance in the front of the class. Shyness forgotten, Molly scampered up to stand next to the podium.

Tonks nodded to Molly that she was ready. For the third time, Tonks turned her back to the class and quickly extricated the bundle that was hidden in the school robes. At the precise moment that Tonks turned around holding an oversized rucksack in the shape of a white kitten, Molly held up the magazine cover, turning slightly so that everyone could see clearly. Other than the wild colors of the kilts, the outfits were identical!

The class erupted in applause and cheers led by the group of four observers in the back of the room.

As soon as Tonks could be heard over the commotion, she reminded the class that it was themselves that they were actually applauding as she had simply followed their instructions. She handed the rucksack and robes to Molly with a particularly heartfelt smile.

“Now I don’t want you to think that clothing is just something for girls �“ women �“ to think about,” she continued. “Wizards, too, must master the techniques of camouflage.”

Turning to the podium, Tonks pointed her wand at a small document and commanded, “Engorio!” The document grew in all directions until it was poster-sized; with a flick of her wand, the poster adhered to the blackboard. “Now this is a particular favorite of mine,” she explained as giggles spread from row to row. Depicted was a wizard wearing a Scottish kilt, a poncho, and bulky black sandals. His face looked like it had been smudged with a pencil eraser to maintain his anonymity. Harry would see why.

“I think I remember seeing him at the Quidditch World Cup,” whispered Ron from the far end of the table.

“He does make quite an impression,” Hermione whispered back, barely suppressing a giggle.

“This gentleman is actually a Ministry employee,” intoned Tonks amid a new batch of laughter, “although he is not from the Auror Division. Let’s start with the kilt then. Any comments?”

“You don’t wear a poncho with a kilt!”

“The sandals are totally wrong!”

“He doesn’t have the legs for it!” All heads turned to the back as Harry realized the last comment had come from his immediate left. He turned to see Neville with hands clamped over his mouth and a panicked expression in his eyes. The class howled with laughter.

Tonks started to comment but was overcome with laughter herself. When she had finally regained her composure somewhat, she turned to Neville encouragingly. “That is a very astute observation, Neville.” Turning to the front of the class she expounded, “Mr. Longbottom is another seventh year student that is visiting our class today. And all humor aside,” she took another deep breath to keep laughter in check, “he has made a valid point. If your clothing is so ridiculous that it incites comments or sniggers, people will tend to remember you. How many of you can say that this wizard looks familiar to you in some way?”

About half of the class raised their hands, Harry, Ron and Hermione among them.

“How many of you think that you could maybe put a face to go with the outfit?”

About half of the hands remained aloft.

“Still a significant number,” Tonks mused as she counted them silently. “The point of concealment and disguise is to pass unnoticed, folks. Now working with the poor bloke here, how would you change the kilt to make this outfit work?” She pointed to a blond Ravenclaw boy in the next to the last row.

“I’d give him a pair of blue jeans, Professor.”

“With patches--”

“�”and a tattered hem.”

Still addressing the Ravenclaw boy Tonks probed further, “What about the shoes? Would you change them?”

“Not necessarily,” the lad answered thoughtfully. “Although if he were in a cold climate, I might suggest hiking boots.”

“Very good analysis,” Tonks replied. “Alex, isn’t it?” Addressing the class as a whole she continued, “Let’s say for the sake of argument that you were going to stay with the kilt. Is there any situation were a kilt would go unnoticed? After all, we are in Scotland.”

Tonks recognized a curly haired boy to her left. “Fergus Macmillian, ma’m,” he drawled in a broad Scots accent. “We have many family gatherin’s in Glasgow where there isna a pair of trousers in sight.” Fergus raised his voice to be heard over the chorus of giggles. “But wearin’ a kilt can be complicated; there’s more to it than just havin’ the right jacket and tie. There’s all manner of accessories; and if you get any of ‘em wrong, you’ll never pass muster with a crowd of rowdy Scots.”

“All right, Fergus, you obviously know your subject here. Just how would you go about wearing a kilt?”

“I’d not wear one a’tall,” he rejoined. “I haven’t got the legs for it!”

Hilarity ensued as the class broke up in laughter once again.

“A man who knows his limitations!” declared Tonks before joining in with the merriment.

“Now for the class assignments,” Tonks began, “we’re going to divide into groups of three. Any of you live in a Muggle household? Either one parent or both are Muggles? Please stand up so that each group will contain at least one Muggle delegate as well as those who have surrounded themselves with wizard customs…”

Harry’s attention was diverted at this point by Professor McGonagall who was motioning for them to join her in the adjoining anteroom. As the narrow doors closed behind them effectively blocking out the boisterous classroom, she turned to them with a wide smile. “Well, what did you think? She made quite a bit of progress in the new directions that I expressed for Hogwarts this year, don’t you think?”

Before he had time to ponder this, Lupin was trotting merrily down the circular staircase that wound down from behind the tiny window sill. He was brushing crumbs from his jacket and tie.

“What did you think of the performance?” Lupin began heartily. “This is the third time today that she’s managed to work the same magic with her class.” Turning to Neville, he clapped him cheerfully on the back. “I understand I have you to thank for the scones. Didn’t get much breakfast this morning between handing out class schedules and seeing to all the details of the new term. Neville here was a great help herding the first years this morning. He and Professor McGonagall even took over some of my duties so that I could sneak away to catch Tonks’ first class.”

Neville mumbled that he was glad he could be of assistance as McGonagall excused herself to have a few words with Tonks.

“And to think I actually thought I might be able to give her a few pointers.” Lupin shook his head ruefully. “I should be learning from her.”

“Does Tonks realize you’ve been observing her class from that perch?” Hermione inquired in her usual matter-of-fact tone.

“I’m sure she does,” Lupin replied. “After all, this particular classroom is large enough to regularly host O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. level examinations and all such sites allow for observation points. Helps to discourage cheating, you know. Besides,” he added with a wink, “I’m not sure I could ever get anything past Tonks -- not even on a good day.”

Tonks swept into the vestibule amid much applause and congratulations. She quickly shrugged out of her school robes and into a comfortable cardigan.

“That was the best class ever,” offered Ron appreciatively.

“You really should be on the stage!” added an enthusiastic Neville.

Visibly embarrassed �“ for the first time ever, Harry thought �“ Tonks replied, “Nah, I’m too shy for all that!”

Harry noticed that Professor McGonagall must have entered the anteroom right behind Tonks. “Luckily, Remus alerted me to join him after the first class,” the headmistress explained. “That’s how I had time to collect the four of you in time for the third installment.”

“That’s three times that I’ve seen her pull off the same flawless performance,” Lupin declared proudly. “Oh sure, the comments from the students have been different each time, but she always manages to improvise with what they give her and stick to the main points.”

“I don’t know about that, Remus,” Tonks conceded. “I nearly lost it when Neville made the comment about that fellow’s skinny legs.” Neville looked embarrassed as she continued, “How bad did it look from the audience?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Lupin rejoined, chuckling at the memory. “I was too busy wiping the tears from my eyes at that point!”

Everyone laughed, including Neville who seemed quite relieved that his spontaneous outburst had not offended anyone. Harry didn’t think he’d every seen McGonagall laugh openly before �“ not even when Fred and George had ended their Hogwarts careers amid a spectacular fireworks extravaganza two years before.

“It’s always the quiet ones that you have to watch out for,” admitted Tonks as she ruffled Neville’s hair affectionately.

“I believe I came to the same conclusion when I had Remus in my classroom,” suggested the headmistress slyly. When the merriment died down, she continued, “But I really must interrupt all the gaiety to remind Neville that he has his appointment with Professor Sprout at half past twelve and it’s quite a long hike to the greenhouses.”

As Neville shot out the door to get his belongings together, McGonagall turned to the group and whispered, “I’ve arrange for them to lunch in the private garden with me today. It has an enchanted glass partition that can provide sunny skies regardless of the true weather.”

With the slightest swirl of her wrist, she conjured a row of camp lanterns on the nearest bench. “Be sure to each take a lantern,” she urged mysteriously. “Your escort awaits at the door to the ground floor Divination classroom where Firenze has been holding forth. I’m sure you know the way.”

She was through the outer door to the hallway with Neville in tow before any of them had a chance to fully react.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

Chapter 9
An Issue of Privacy


They arrived at the ground floor classroom to find Dobby, the house-elf, waiting for them. Bowing so low that his peaked cap barely missed scraping the ground, he fawned, “It is an honor to escort all of Hogwarts’ rising stars, and especially Harry Potter, today.” With a snap of his long fingers, he ignited all five camp lanterns. “Please follow Dobby.”

Although he had crossed the threshold in his fifth year, Harry was still astounded at the transformation before him. He had stepped into a moonlit forest glen, absolutely still except for the gentlest of breezes that caressed his skin. Instead of tiles beneath his feet, he felt spongy moss and an occasional tree root. He remembered that the desks had been pushed to the perimeter of the room even though they appeared to form a wall of thick tree trunks.

It was all new to Lupin and Tonks as well as to Hermione who had dropped Divination classes in her third year. They gazed in open awe. Twirling around with his arms outstretched, Lupin cried defiantly to the heavens, “Moonlight never felt so good!”

With an impulsive peck to the cheek, Tonks tugged him down next to her on a large, flat boulder. Dobby was occupied with spreading a large, white cloth in the middle of the “clearing” and setting out covered dishes.

“There are various types of meat pies and at least two cold roast chickens from last night,” Dobby explained as he lifted the various lids. “Pumpkin juice is in that flask over there,” he pointed to a rather tall boulder that was the perfect height for a class lectern. “Just snap your fingers and call Dobby’s name if you need anything else.”

With an even deeper bow, he snapped his fingers again and was gone.

In addition to dispersing the deep violet glow of their surroundings, the camp lanterns proved ideal for weighing down the four corners of the cloth. The last one was placed near the center so that they could better see the food. Hermione graciously poured juice for everyone and then passed it around. As the boys had seated themselves right on the mossy floor at the cloth’s edge, they were the first to reach the food.

Ron offered the platter of cold chicken to Harry, “Here, mate, I reckon I owe you this after what happened with the pork chops last night.”

As he helped himself to the chicken, Harry was somewhat puzzled that he did not recall the incident in question.

“Thanks, Ron,” he replied, “but I really don’t remember anything having to do with pork chops--”

“Are you serious?” interjected Hermione. “Why he practically speared the last three chops from the platter right as you were reaching for them! And there were no more to be had on any of the other tables. I even asked a house-elf on your behalf!” She shuddered as if her actions had been scandalous.

Harry stopped to consider his memories from the previous evening. Although he had managed to miss two of the welcoming feasts, his mind replayed a kaleidoscope of images from the other five which he had attended. He could find no memories that he could identify as being from last night’s meal; but truly, didn’t platters of food look pretty much alike from year to year?

“Sorry, must not have made as big an impression as you thought.” Harry shrugged.

Amid dainty mouthfuls of meat pie, Hermione inquired of Tonks, “So what was Professor McGonagall’s assessment of your teaching methods �“ if you don’t mind me asking, that is?”

“Don’t feel you have to answer if it’s too personal,” admonished Lupin gently as he turned his head towards Tonks.

“I don’t mind, we’re among friends here,” Tonks replied easily. “She complimented me on the lively classroom participation. And, although she described my exhibits as somewhat unorthodox �“ her words not mine �“ she said that she could not argue with their effectiveness.”

“Did she notice that you transformed right before the class just like she did when she taught Transfiguration?” asked Ron.

“Yeah, she noticed the homage,” returned Tonks, “especially when I told her that she had been my inspiration. You don’t suppose she thinks I was just flattering her, do you?”

“Not if you really meant it,” Lupin reassured her. “Did she say anything about awarding house points?”

“I wondered about that also,” Hermione added.

Tonks considered a moment before replying, “I think she started to but amended her statement to say that perhaps we should not be bound so much by the traditions of the past and that I was entitled to have my own teaching style. She did add, in the manner of a suggestion only, that I consider awarding house points in some other manner and left it at that.”

Lupin raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “I think you just got a rave review from one of the most stringent judges to be found.”

“Oooh, you really think so?” Tonks cooed happily.

“Just one thing I have to ask,” Harry began. “Today’s classes are all fine and good, as it’s the first day back and all. But how do you keep the word that you’re a Metamorphmagus from becoming common knowledge? Won’t that spoil your opening routine?”

“Ah, that was pure genius,” intoned Lupin, then turning to Tonks he added, “May I?”

Tonks nodded gratefully, suddenly embarrassed by all the adulation coming her way.

Lupin continued in a whisper as if he were imparting the greatest secrets of the universe, “She swears them all to secrecy on the pretext that surely they don’t want the next class to have an undue advantage.”

“And they agree?” Ron’s awe was apparent.

“They have so far,” replied Tonks modestly.

Hermione jumped up abruptly, “What time is it?” she cried as she looked frantically around the clearing for a clock.

Chuckling softly, Lupin pulled a beat-up pocket watch from his vest pocket. “It’s just shy of 1:40,” he replied.

“Oh, I have a two o’clock appointment with Madame Hooch. I mean, Professor Hooch,” Hermione added quickly. “It’s been a lovely lunch and thank you so much, Professor, for allowing me to watch your class in action.”

As she tugged on Ron’s sleeve to urge him up, he grudgingly admitted that he had a two o’clock appointment with his advisor also. Turning toward Lupin, he commented, “Good call on the class. Wouldn’t have missed it.”

Tonks was also shaking the crumbs from her clothing. “I regret that I have a 2:15 class myself,” she announced with a touch of sadness in her voice. “And I do need a few extra moments to get into character.”

“My appointment is with Harry here so I don’t exactly have to run off immediately,” Lupin replied. “We’ll call for the clean-up crew, won’t we, Harry?”

“I’m off on my solo flight then,” Tonks intoned from the doorway. “Harry, Remus, it’s been a pleasure.” She saluted them smartly before turning on her heel to go.

Lupin started to return the salute, then thought better of it at the last moment and blew her a kiss instead.

Clean up was completed, literally, in a snap. Dobby informed them that Firenze was not teaching any classes today so they were welcome to the classroom for as long as they liked; just to be sure to call him to lock-up when they were through.

Harry asked about the state of the weather outside and was informed that the mist had turned into a steady drizzle around mid-day. Watching the raindrops slide down the panes of Lupin’s office window held no appeal so it was unanimously decided to stay in the ersatz forest glen.

“You know, Harry,” suggested Lupin, “I could do with a nice campfire. It seems that once I know that it’s cold and damp outside the castle walls, I start to feel the clamminess in my bones. Power of suggestion.”

“I know just what you mean, Professor,” agreed Harry. “Should I summon a house-elf?”

“No need, really. What sort of a Transfiguration teacher would I be if I couldn’t conjure up a simple campfire?”

After a few moments of consideration, Lupin completed a rather elaborate wand movement over the closest boulder. Instantly, it was transformed into a large copper bowl complete with fire wood.

“Wouldn’t do to start a fire in the woods �“ or building �“ now would it?” Lupin commented.

With a quick swirl of his wand, Harry silently commanded, incendio, and was rewarded with a roaring blaze.

“Excellent use of non-verbal spells,” Lupin complimented him. “I was about to award you house points, but I think I’ll try to take a page from Tonks’ book and let the conversations flow more naturally… So what do you think of the advisor assignments? We can make a change if you’re unhappy.”

“I’m perfectly content with having you as my advisor, Professor,” Harry assured him with a shy smile. “I don’t know why I had assumed that the headmistress was going to take the three of us under her wing personally; she certainly wouldn’t have had the time. I just found her so easy to talk to over the summer.”

“When she enticed you to return to Hogwarts?” Lupin ventured. “Yes, she filled me in on the particulars. She did take a good bit of time to lay out the individualized study programs to us before delegating the duties. And she was instrumental in remodeling Gryffindor Tower into a special suite for the seventh-year students. You realize that area used to be a storage room, don’t you? That’s why it doesn’t appear on the Marauder’s Map.”

“Is there any way to add it to the Map?” asked Harry.

“I believe there is and it would make a good lesson in Transfiguration as well. You didn’t happen to bring it with you today, did you?”

Harry shook his head. Remembering Dumbledore’s admonition, he had carefully packed his Invisibility Cloak into his book bag -- but the Marauder’s Map was in the hidden compartment of his trunk.

“I will make a note to bring it next time,” Harry offered. “Hermione sure didn’t seem very happy with her advisor assignment, though,” he mused.

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Harry,” Lupin corrected him. “The headmistress is actually a very shrewd judge of character. If you promise to keep this a secret until the official announcement is made…”

Harry nodded, eager to hear the rest.

“Well, Professor Hooch will be assuming the Muggle Studies classes in the near future. Professor Farquar has been waffling on his decision to retire but is finally expected to make it official within the next few weeks. The headmistress will wait until then to add Muggle Studies to the curriculum; at which point, anyone desiring to do so may add it to their class schedule.”

“That explains the change in her expression then,” Harry concluded.

“And did you know that Professor Flitwick is a champion at wizard chess?” offered Lupin. “I’m sure that he and Ron will have many good conversations concerning military strategy as well as a rousing match or two. Now as to you, Harry, have you given any thought to where you would like to begin your individualized program?”

Harry explained his initial idea to study twin magical devices, especially those concerning communication mirrors. Detailing the tragic circumstances that led to the shattering of his own mirror, he asked Lupin if he ever remembered James and Sirius using such devices.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Lupin admitted, “I just don’t remember; it was all so long ago. Why don’t you bring the mirror with you next time and we’ll take it from there? I’ll also expect to see the fruits of your research at our next appointment. I don’t require that you submit your findings on parchment �“ at least not for now �“ but you may use your notes to assist you in your presentation. It will be your job to assume the role of teacher and impart to me your knowledge of twin magical objects. Are those instructions clear?”

Harry nodded that he understood.

“The headmistress has already sent written authorization to Madam Pince for you, Ron and Hermione to have unlimited access to the restricted section so you should have no problems in that respect. Many teachers also have private libraries of their own that they may wish to share with you. Unfortunately, my store of books is rather meager. However, Professor Dumbledore did leave a considerable private library that is now part of the headmistress’ office. That will be made available to you in the near future as soon as the cataloguing process is completed. How about if we set your next appointment for,” he consulted a weathered leather portfolio, “three days hence at eleven in the morning?”

As Harry scribbled feverish notes that would have made Hermione proud, Lupin once again consulted his ancient pocket watch.

“Well, now that we’ve completed all the urgent business,” he drawled, “how about joining me in a nice cup of tea?” With a flick of his wand, a metal teapot was sizzling among the flames.

“Don’t wizards generally heat the water with magic?” Harry asked pointedly.

“Many do,” agreed Lupin, “but Molly Weasley taught me that it is always better to reassert the boil by non-magical means before adding the tea. It makes for a more flavorful brew.”

With an elaborate wrist motion, Lupin made the teapot to remove itself to the tall stone where the flagon of pumpkin juice had stood earlier. He added loose leaves from a pocket tin, swirled it about for a few minutes, then poured the resulting tea into two mismatched mugs that had magically appeared. Cream, sugar and lemon slices also materialized next to the teapot.

Sitting down in companionable silence, they sipped the hot tea. Harry debated whether he should bring up the issue from the welcoming feast. Perhaps if he approached the subject obliquely…

Sensing his inner turmoil, Lupin urged, “You have another matter weighing on your mind… Is that not so, Harry?”

Begin in a circuitous manner, Harry reminded himself. “Well, you see, there are a number of things about last night’s feast that have been bothering me. I must have been drowsy as certain portions of the evening seem to be lost in a fog while others are crystal clear.”

Lupin nodded in understanding as he volunteered, “I’d gathered as much from the pork chop incident with Ron. Couldn’t help overhearing,” he added apologetically.

Determined to take the plunge, Harry continued, “Am I correct that Professor McGonagall never made any sort of announcement concerning your marriage to Tonks?”

Clearly, this was not the detour that Lupin had anticipated the conversation to take. In the immediate silence, Harry regretted his tactlessness a thousandfold.

Shaking his head in resignation, Lupin mused, “You sound more and more like your father, James, everyday.” With a deep breath, he looked Harry in the eye and replied, “I suppose I do owe you an answer since we invited you to share in our celebration aboard the Hogwarts Express. Rest assured, Harry, your memory is correct on that point: no announcement was made to the students.”

“But why not, Professor?” Harry inquired, only to immediately wince at his boldness.

Lupin sighed and then pronounced in a quiet tone, “Teachers are not in the habit of making announcements of a personal nature to the student populace. Not at Hogwarts, not at any other school. To do so would be to infringe upon our privacy.”

“But what if some students were to see you together?”

“Teachers socialize with one another all the time.” Lupin shrugged.

“What if they were to see you behaving in a manner that suggested--”

“That’s highly unlikely, Harry! I am by nature, a rather reserved individual �“ what young people would refer to as an ‘old fuddy-duddy.’ Tonks herself has admitted she is inherently shy--”

At Harry’s skeptical glance, Lupin chuckled, “All right, I admit she may be deluding herself on that last point, but still… Is this because I blew her a kiss at lunch today?”

“I also saw her give you a peck on the cheek,” Harry rejoined.

“Harry, we were completely alone other than you, Ron and Hermione �“ and the three of you already know. If you’re worried about the house-elf �“ and I assure you, you shouldn’t be �“ he was busy with the tablecloth and had his back to us at the time. Surely you don’t think that we are the only teachers at Hogwarts that have ever been married to one another, do you?”

Suddenly, Harry realized the error of his thinking. The dismay was apparent on his face for Lupin to read.

“Oh, Harry, what sort of assumptions have you made? Surely you should look at this in a more mature manner.”

“Do you mean to tell me that some of the other Hogwarts teachers are married?”

“As well as some of the staff,” Lupin pronounced, then raised a finger in warning, “but understand that I am not at liberty to provide any of the details. They are entitled to their privacy just as much as I am.”

“But what about Hagrid?” Harry suggested. “I’ve visited his cottage lots of times…”

“That’s just the point, Harry! Aside from Hagrid, when have you ever had cause to visit the living quarters of anyone other than another student?”

“I attended a Christmas party at Professor Slughorn’s last year. There were students, staff and outside guests present.”

“I believe such an event would have been held in the Professor’s offices; many of the areas are quire generously proportioned to allow for entertaining. I assure you those were not his private quarters.”

The enormity of the situation began to dawn on Harry. “So there are private living quarters within the walls of the castle?” he probed.

“Absolutely,” Lupin returned. “Many of the staff have private residences beyond the school grounds as well.”

“What about the Map?” Harry asked, dreading the answer that was sure to come.

“I didn’t know about the private quarters, either, at the time that the Map was drawn. We were all similarly naïve. Rest assured, however, that these areas remain Unplottable even from within the castle walls. I could no more add them to the Map than ask the Room of Requirement to reveal its secrets! Even the Marauder’s Map has its limitations. So to answer one of your original questions, Harry: what was I to do in the unlikely event that a student came upon me and my wife in our private quarters in an Unknowable, Unplottable area of the castle? DO I HAVE IT CORRECTLY?”

Harry nodded meekly.

“Why I would graciously say, ‘Have you had the pleasure of meeting my wife?’” The sarcasm was evident in Lupin’s voice.

“So is the marriage intended to be a secret then?”

Harry was relieved when Lupin smiled weakly. “Not at all, Harry,” he intoned quietly. “It was never our intent to swear any of you to secrecy. You are free to speak of my marriage should it come up naturally in conversation. I do trust, however, that none of you four would betray our friendship by treating the news as idle gossip. I would be exceedingly disappointed to overhear any of you saying, ‘You’ll never believe what I just heard…’ ”

Harry assured him that they were not that immature.

“Good thing!” Lupin affirmed. “As to why no announcement was made, consider this: we presented Professor McGonagall with a fait accompli. To have made a proclamation to those who had neither been invited to be present at the ceremony nor to celebrate the news with us at a later date would have simply been bad form.”

Harry looked up at Lupin apologetically. Despite all the valuable information he had learned, particularly about the shortcomings of his own assumptions, he valued the friendship too much to risk alienating the Professor.

Lupin smiled indulgently in return. “Come, it’s getting close to supper time. You go on while I summon Dobby to lock up. I will see you at eleven on Friday morning. Don’t forget!”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 10
The Annex


Harry arrived at Lupin’s office on Friday to find that Hermione was already seated across from the Professor’s desk.

“Come on in, Harry,” Lupin urged as he closed the door behind him.

Harry slipped into the chair next to Hermione and looked suspiciously at the open notebook in her lap.

“Hermione and I are just finishing up if you don’t mind.” Then sensing Harry’s bewilderment, Lupin added with a wink, “Hermione’s been teaching me some Muggle slang. A bit of the argot, so to speak.”

Hermione cleared her throat and resumed, “So she is definitely going to stick with ‘Tonks’ as both a surname and a first name?”

“So she tells me.” Lupin shrugged indulgently.

“Not add ‘Lupin’ as her last name as is customary?” clarified Hermione.

“I don’t think so. In case you haven’t noticed, Tonks isn’t much of a traditionalist.” With a smile, Lupin added, “Besides, it would cut down on a lot of confusion to not have two Professor Lupins running around here.”

Hermione acquiesced, “It does sound like a sensible choice when you couch it in such terms.”

Unconvinced, Lupin looked at her pointedly. “If you’re thinking that it bothers me that she hasn’t taken my name, you’re wrong. Such conventions are meaningless window-dressing.”

“All right,” Hermione intoned, “here’s a short list of other personages who have used a single name: Elvis.” To the befuddled expression on Lupin’s face, she added, “The American rock star…from the headmistress’ era.”

Lupin nodded gamely, taking it all in.

“Liberace,” she enumerated, “the pianist and entertainer, albeit from Dumbledore’s time.”

At Lupin’s blank stare, she supplied, “A bit light in the loafers.”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with that saying, either. Sorry,” Lupin volunteered humbly.

Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling as Hermione prompted, “Renowned for wearing the gaudiest sequined tuxedo jackets, practically blinding. Unmarried and shared his Hollywood mansion with his mother.”

“Ah, I see,” rejoined Lupin, holding up his hand to forestall her. “I better write these down.” Pulling out an old-fashioned fountain pen from his inside pocket, he patted the desk blotter and then peeked under the edge. “Now where is a stray bit of parchment when you need one?”

“Here, Professor,” Hermione offered, tearing the top sheet of bright yellow paper from her small pad and affixing it to the blotter. “These have an adhesive strip that makes them stay put.”

Lupin’s awed expression was so unexpected that she and Harry both could not help laughing.

“Here, take the whole pad, Professor. What better way to record Muggle slang that on a Muggle artifact!”

“Thank you, Hermione.” Lupin smiled. “You do realize that such an object is probably contraband--”

“Well, if you go by Filch’s list,” Harry announced, “just about everything is!”

Lupin nodded in agreement as he made quick notes. Turning to Hermione, he clarified, “That’s Elvis and Liberace, right?”

“Do you need me to spell it?” Hermione offered.

“It’s Italian, isn’t it?” To Hermione’s nod, Lupin added, “No need.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Professor,” Hermione began, “that’s a rather nice fountain pen you have in your hand. Is it an antique?”

Lupin appraised the pen slowly then handed it to her for a closer look. From the adjoining chair, Harry could see that the cylinder was made of a cream translucent material, alabaster would be his guess. The depth of the sparkle as Hermione turned it over in her hands hinted that it was probably gold.

“It was a wedding present from Tonks,” Lupin elaborated. “Said it came from a time when the Muggle world and wizarding world had not drifted so far apart… So, I suppose you’re right, Hermione, it must be an antique.”

Hermione placed it reverently on his upturned palm. “I believe that would be considered a Muggle artifact as well,” she concluded.

“Please continue,” Lupin implored merrily, “surely the lesson can’t be over this soon.”

Harry watched in awe as Hermione deftly enumerated a number of popular Muggle musicians and entertainers who commonly went by a single name. Lupin made copious notes on the yellow squares.

“You’re not familiar with any of these people, are you, Professor?” Harry observed quietly.

“Sorry, but no,” Lupin admitted with a small tilt of his head. “I don’t much keep up with Muggle music other than a bit of jazz here and there. Even so, I generally stick with the classics.”

“Well, if it’s classics you’re looking for, there’s always the Royals,” Hermione rejoined.

“You mean as in Tonks, Defender of Dark Arts?” Lupin supplied with a resounding laugh.

“Forgive me,” interjected Harry, “but that sounds like a comic book character. Probably a villainess decked out in all black leather by the sound of it.”

Hermione giggled unabashedly.

“I’ll save that for just the right moment then,” Lupin deadpanned with a wicked twinkle that he couldn’t completely hide. “What’s a comic book?”

Hermione quickly scribbled ‘graphic novels’ on the corner of her notebook then suggested, “We’ll save that for the next lesson, Professor, or Harry will never get his turn. Now if you two will excuse me, I promised the headmistress I would assist her with the cataloguing of her new library. Ciao!”

As Hermione swept out the door, Lupin pulled out his trusty pocket watch.

“It’s almost lunch time, Harry, what say we take a stroll down to the Three Broomsticks and get some real food? It’s a fabulous sunny day and a walk to Hogsmeade village will do us both some good. I feel like I’ve been cooped up in this castle forever!”




Harry was still savoring the last of Madam Rosmerta’s excellent steak-and-kidney pie when they left the pub. The bright autumn sunlight was startling after the cool darkness within; so much so, that it took a minute for him to realize that he was being hailed by one of the Weasley twins.

“Yo, Harry, what an expected surprise! And Professor Lupin, sure has been awhile,” the Weasley twin offered a hearty handshake.

“Good to see you, too. Is it Fred or George? I never could tell you two apart when you were in my class,” Lupin admitted candidly.

“It’s George today,” was the response, “but since we’re always trading duties back and forth, it might be Fred tomorrow. To tell you the truth, I’m thinking of settling on ‘Forge’ to avoid any embarrassment,” he added with a laugh.

“Is that what you’re having your new employees call you?” inquired Harry, smiling.

“I wish,” replied George. “They seem to be determined to refer to us both as ‘Mr. Weasley’ �“ which means we never know which one of us they mean!”

Lupin chuckled at the absurdity of their predicament then commiserated, “I guess it’s just one of the perils of owning your own business, eh?”

George rolled his eyes in empathy. “So can I entice you gentlemen to a grand tour of our new premises?” he asked cordially as he ushered them into the new shop. “We’re still in the process of getting organized, but we’re open for business just the same. Can’t risk not being ready for that first Hogsmeade weekend, now can we?”

They ducked their heads under a banner that was still draped across the storefront. In trademark purple script, it read: WEASLEYS’ WIZARD WHEEZES. Blinking banners had been plastered diagonally across the window glass that proclaimed: “Don’t Let Our Dust Make You Wheeze �“ We Are Open!” The interior was a scene of controlled mayhem as workers dashed back and forth with boxes to finish stocking the shelves. The noise of hammering could be heard from the back wall that was being refurbished to add additional niches.

As assortment of whirling and flashing devices, similar to those that Harry remembered from the Diagon Alley store, was being displayed inside a horizontal case in the middle of the room. Lupin’s attention was drawn magnetically to the case and he leaned over for a closer examination. George joined him and an animated discussion ensued concerning the uses and properties of each of the devices. Harry took the opportunity to wander about the room while doing his best to stay out of the trajectory of the work crew.

Noticing a large display of the Patented Daydream Charms, Harry was again struck by the sensationalism of the packaging. He was immediately reminded of the trashy romance novels that Aunt Petunia claimed she never read but surreptitiously hid behind the sofa cushions every time someone walked into the room. He gathered a couple of the most outrageous ones as a present to Tonks who would surely think that they were hilarious. He added a few additional items that looked promising and then took the basket over to the counter to ring-up.

He was embarrassed when George refused to take his money. After a bit of haranguing, he agreed to deduct the amounts �“ minus a generous employee discount �“ from Harry’s portion of the consultant’s fee.

“I’ll just have my assistant wrap these up for you in the back,” offered George to conclude the transaction. “You don’t mind if I add a few items that I need Hermione to look over, do you? Saves the bother of having to send them piecemeal by owl.”

“There is one other thing I’d like to ask you about,” began Lupin as George handed off the basket contents to a skinny lad with freckles. “Does my memory play tricks on me or did I see an announcement in the Daily Prophet concerning the engagement of your brother, Bill?”

“You bet, Professor,” offered George. “He’s fallen hopelessly for that French lass, Fleur Delacour. Surely, you remember her from last Christmas at the Burrow?”

Lupin shook his head glumly. “I was not at my best during those months,” he apologized.

George nodded sagely. “She and Bill kept to themselves in the corner a lot, so that doesn’t surprise me. Perhaps you might remember her from the Triwizard Tournament?” In a whisper, he added, “She was the one that kept coming in dead last.”

“Can’t say I remember her from that, either, but there was a very fetching picture of her in the Prophet,” Lupin said diplomatically. “I was abroad most of the summer holiday, though. Did the marriage ever take place?”

“They can’t seem to set a date,” confessed George. “The Ministry won’t give them a permit until they locate a site that meets the new stringent security protocols �“ and with all the guests that Fleur is insisting upon…. Well, you see the problem. Too many wizards in one spot make for an ideal target, if you know what I mean.”

“I do indeed,” agreed Lupin. “Well, I’m sure true love will triumph in the end. Please convey my congratulations to him and keep me posted… By the way, could Fleur have been that young lady that was at Bill’s beside after he was attacked last year?”

“See, you do remember her,” George concluded with a wide grin.

“Can’t help but feel a bit of concern for Bill, though, seeing as how I once suffered a similar attack. Under vastly different circumstances, of course; I was a mere child,” Lupin clarified. “How is he recovering, if I might ask?”

George considered before replying, “He seems fine. Still has an appreciation for rare steak. Lately, he’s been complaining that he has to make more frequent trips to the barber; says Fleur doesn’t like it when his ponytail gets longer than hers.”

“I expect there are many men out there who would gladly suffer such an inconvenience,” remarked Lupin amicably. “Well, do give my regards to Fred and the rest of your family.”

“It was nice chatting with you, Professor,” George added. “I’m sure Hogwarts is glad to have you back. Excuse me, I see that Harry’s packages are ready.”

He returned with a large shopping bag inscribed with: “Dervish & Banges, quality purveyor of cauldrons and other magical necessities.” With a large wink, he volunteered, “Special services for Hogwarts students. I understand that Filch still has our products blacklisted, eh?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry replied, “he can’t wait to announce it gleefully at the start of every term!”

George chuckled agreeably. “Not to worry, Harry, we have the problem well in hand. The items that I’m sending Hermione are from our more serious line so they should not arouse any undue suspicion. As for purchases that are packaged in a more conspicuous manner, we have added extra measures.” Removing a flat box from the top of the bag, he demonstrated. A small wand tap in the corner transformed it into a heavy, leather-bound tome. George turned it around so that Harry could read the title. Hogwarts: A History was embossed in gold on the cover.

Harry looked up appreciatively. “That should make it past Filch’s radar.”

“Just one minute,” warned Lupin, “what’s to keep a dark wizard from smuggling dangerous substances into the school in this manner? You recall that Hogwarts was attacked last year �“ and the breach came from within.”

“Got you covered,” George answered soothingly. “Just put your hand over the box like this �“ you too, Harry. Can you feel that tingling? That will alert any witch or wizard of the charm. All they have to do is touch it with their wand and the box will dissolve entirely. But a talentless Squib like Filch will be totally fooled.”

“Don’t you think that Filch will become suspicious when students keep returning from Hogsmeade with copies of Hogwarts: A History?” observed Lupin pointedly. “He may be a Squib, but he’s hardly a moron!”

“One step ahead of you, Professor,” George declared proudly. “We have a variety of titles to choose from and students can even make up their own. Hogwarts: A History is just the first one we used -- sort of as a tribute to Hermione.”

“I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of it,” Harry assured him in thanks.

With a final flourish, George magically stamped the shopping bag with purple block letters that spelled out “ANNEX” right next to the Dervish & Banges logo. “That way our customers will know the goods are from us,” he explained with a wink.

Handing the overflowing bag to Harry, he ushered them to the door.

“One last thing, if I may.” Lupin’s voice was laced with merriment. “And you have to know that I am a great admirer of your business acumen… But how did you get Dervish & Banges to go along with your little subterfuge?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” George confided. “Turns out that Mr. Dervish is an old friend of my dad’s. When I explained our difficulties, he was more than happy to oblige. His firm gets an extra bit of exposure in return �“ I believe they call that a ‘win-win’ situation.”

Lupin was still chuckling as they left the quaint thatched cottages of Hogsmeade behind. “Those two really are geniuses when it comes to business matters,” e mused.

They reached the first rise in the path leading back to Hogwarts castle. The afternoon sunlight draped the surrounding woods in the glorious autumn shades of gold and umber.

“Why don’t we stop here and go over your assignment?” Lupin suggested as he settled himself comfortably on an old hollow log and looked up at Harry expectantly.

Harry shrugged off his packages and retrieved a small roll of parchment from his book bag. He leaned casually against the broken trunk and began his recitation. He started out in a hesitant manner, but then gained more confidence as he realized that it really wasn’t much different than having a regular conversation. Lupin would interrupt him periodically to clarify a particular point or ask a pointed question but basically he just listened.

Within the space of fifteen minutes, Harry expounded upon his full knowledge of twin magical devices. There had been sparse enough information concerning these items even in the restricted section since they seemed to have fallen out of vogue decades before. Harry had found one book that explained how the mystical resonances of the twin objects had to be maintained at all costs; twin mirrors must be cut from the same piece of glass, twin cabinets must be constructed from the wood of the same tree, etc. He was able to find no information about the charms that actually made such objects work. Lupin suggested that it was likely that these were guarded as trade secrets by the companies that had produced the various items for sale.

“I even asked one of the clerks at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes if they had any such objects in stock,” concluded Harry, “but he told me that they didn’t.”

“That’s too bad,” commented Lupin thoughtfully. “It might have made for an interesting experiment to try to determine what made them tick.”

“You mean like reverse engineering?”

“I’ve never heard that term before, Harry. Is it another example of Muggle slang?” Lupin asked with peaking interest.

“Not exactly, but it’s definitely a Muggle expression. I think I would call it techno-babble,” Harry replied carefully as he noticed Lupin making a hurried notation in the small yellow pad.

Remembering bitterly how Draco Malfoy had managed to repair the broken Vanishing Cabinet the year before, Harry was more determined than ever to achieve a similar understanding of the subject matter. In one dusty volume, he had located an admonition that it was better to discard the broken twin that to attempt to repair it. The author claimed that the bond that the objects shared initially had been irreparably broken and that it was almost certain that the repaired object would no longer work in proper tandem with the other.

After listening to Harry’s narrative, Lupin suggested, “You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself, Harry. It is very likely that Draco had outside help from a less than honorable source. Who knows what ancient volumes of dark magic Mr. Borgin consulted before advising Draco on how to make repairs �“ and still it took Draco almost an entire year before he managed it!” He paused to consider, then continued, “What I would like to know is how Draco ever located the broken cabinet in the first place?”

“Dunno,” Harry rejoined, “I’ve often wondered if it was just dumb luck. Malfoy never struck me as a deep thinker.”

“People can often surprise you and Draco was obviously motivated to succeed �“ or else. Assuming that it was just serendipity that led him to the cabinet, what was he doing in the Room of Requirement in the first place?”

“I think I see where you’re going with this, Professor,” Harry offered. “I could not get the room to admit me until I had need of a hiding place, yet it had obviously been used as a dumping ground for years. Certainly that’s where Professor Trelawney was hiding her empty sherry bottles when she overheard Malfoy celebrating success. But if Malfoy came across the cabinet accidentally, then what was his original objective in that room?”

“My thoughts exactly…although I could very well ask you the same question,” Lupin replied pointedly. “But let’s leave that for now and get back to the twin mirrors. Did you remember to bring the broken pieces?”

Harry dug the hastily wrapped bundle from his book bag. “I have a copy of the instructions that I received as well,” he offered, handing Lupin a scrap of parchment.

Seeing Sirius’ sentiments so clearly brought an unexpected lump to Lupin’s throat. Harry instantly regretted having included the part that referred to using the mirrors with James during separate detentions; at least he’d had the presence of mind to not bring the original note in Sirius’ handwriting.

A few quiet moments passed and then Lupin asked softly, “Did you ever use the mirrors while Sirius was still around?”

Harry shook his head glumly. “I was so afraid that any attempt to contact him would just lure him into the open…” he explained miserably. There was no need to finish the statement; they both knew what had happened the night that Sirius had finally left the safety of Grimmauld Place.

“It does no good to dwell in the past, Harry,” Lupin offered in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Let’s say we take a stab at getting the mirror back to working order instead?” Turning the package over in his hands he added, “Based on the instructions, it seems that the mirror will display the image and voice of the person holding it at the other end. It is unclear whether both mirrors will hold the same image at the same time. Does this analysis seem correct to you?”

Thinking briefly of Ron’s Evil Eye Detector, Harry nodded in agreement.

“All right then,” concluded Lupin, “since we have no idea where the mirror’s twin may be, prudence dictates that we will want to remain out of the line of sight. I have an idea.” He leaned over the side of the log and carefully placed the mirror shards inside its mossy interior.

Harry rearranged the shards so that they resembled puzzle pieces just waiting to be assembled. He double-checked that each piece was reflecting the wood of the log interior. He moved out of the way as Lupin intoned from a short distance away, ”Reparo!” and pointed his wand directly at the glass shards.

It took a number of attempts to get all the pieces to mend together but in the end they succeeded. Lupin stopped Harry from reaching into the log prematurely. Shaking his head slightly, he suggested, “Let’s try it out from here.”

“Hello, hellooo, is anyone there?” Harry repeated over and over but the mirror continued to reflect only wood bark. “There’s no telling if it will ever work again, Professor.”

“Nonetheless, it remains a potentially magical object,” Lupin warned, “and we should exercise caution when handling it.”

Careful not to expose his face to the mirror’s reflection, Lupin kneeled by the fallen tree and wrapped the mended mirror in the same discarded newspaper. Then presenting the package to Harry, he instructed, “Keep this somewhere safe and continue to attempt to establish a connection with the person on the other side. The bottom of a bureau drawer would be ideal: you can just pull out the drawer minimally in order to not be seen. Your assignment will be to keep a log of your attempts, including the time of day and any results that you obtain. Remember that our goal is to first determine where the mirror’s twin may be. You should not establish contact with the person on the other end until you determine whether they are friend or foe, is that understood?”

At Harry’s curt nod, Lupin concluded the day’s lesson and set their next appointment for the following week.



They arrived at the school grounds to find the gates closed and Filch, the caretaker, pacing impatiently.

“What took you so long, Professor?” Filch growled. He quickly scanned Harry’s body with his Secrecy Sensor. As he looked their packages over, however, a most unpleasant snarl settled over his face. “Everything seems to be in order,” he grumbled.

Thanking him pleasantly, Lupin was about to proceed up the grass slope to the castle when Filch grabbed him by the arm. “Just one minute there, Professor, new regulations require that I establish your identity.”

Filch’s infamous cat, Mrs. Norris, was sinuously snaking back and forth across the path ahead as if to block their entrance.

Lupin sighed in resignation. With only a moment’s hesitation, he extended his wand and commanded, "Expecto Patronum!” A scintillating giraffe galloped forth.

Checking his list, Filch grudgingly let the two of them past. Thinking back on the stringent security measures they had endured at the Three Broomsticks, Harry was surprised that Filch had not manufactured any other pretext for further delay.

“By the way, Mr. Filch,” Lupin offered in his most genial tones, “you may want to double-check Harry’s Patronus as well. It was duly noted during his O.W.L. examination two years ago that his takes the form of a stag.”

Filch’s eyes narrowed dangerously but Lupin urged Harry to demonstrate. Harry’s face screwed up in concentration as he produced a glistening stag; a shape that perfectly mirrored the Animagus form that his father, James, had assumed in life.

Mumbling something about have to consult with the headmistress, Filch hastily reclosed the massive gates and trudged up the hill in the opposite direction. He was barely out of ear shot when Lupin started chuckling.

“What was that all about?” Harry inquired pointedly.

Slapping Harry’s back in a jovial fashion, Lupin admitted with a laugh, “Forgive me, Harry, for putting you on the spot like that. Filch’s totalitarian tactics have been annoying me since the day I first set foot in this school. Now that I’m a teacher, I can’t help but get under his skin in little ways. Just call it a case of arrested development.”



Hermione greeted Harry just inside the entrance to the seventh-year common room. He presented her with the bag from the “annex” and briefly explained the clever methods that Fred and George were employing this year.

“I’d expect no less from the enterprise that once packaged love potions as cough remedies,” she replied with a sharp laugh.

She couldn’t wait to hear news of Madam Rosmerta and how she seemed to have fully recovered from being victimized by the Imperius Curse last term. Harry detailed the security measures that had been put in place at the pub to prevent such a tragedy from recurring.

“Good thing, too,” Hermione observed. “She wouldn’t want students to be afraid to visit the Three Broomsticks during Hogsmeade weekends. The Hog’s Head just isn’t the same.”

Harry nodded his agreement, then asked, “I’ve hardly seen you all week. How is your new advisor working out?”

“Oh, Professor Hooch and I turn out to have a lot in common,” she replied airily.

“You mean since she’s going to be in charge of Muggle Studies?”

Hermione gasped. “Who told you? It’s supposed to be a secret!”

“What’s a secret?” Ron interjected as he walked up behind them. “The fact that Professor Hooch is going to be taking over Muggle Studies? Naw, just saw the announcement on the main bulletin board. There’s already a crowd around the sign-up sheet.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

Chapter 11
The Vanishing Cabinet


The first weekend back at school passed pleasantly enough. While Hermione complained of having so much research to complete, Harry found that an occasional check on the mirror did not take up much of his time �“ particularly since he was not having much success with it. The mirror just sat in the bottom of his drawer dumbly.

Finding Ron at similar loose ends on Saturday, they wandered down to the Quidditch pitch. Ginny had posted an announcement that tryouts for the Gryffindor team would be held next Saturday so the field was full of hopefuls. There was a definite nip in the air but the sunny conditions made it an ideal day for flying.

Ginny caught up with them in mid-air and admonished, “You know that everyone is going to think that you are both trying out for the team!”

“Can’t help what funny notions other people take into their heads,” replied Ron airily.

“I’m just enjoying the perfect flying conditions,” Harry answered honestly.

But their enjoyment was cut short when a bitter wind started in late afternoon and drove everyone back indoors. They met Neville on the staircase, trying to wipe off the mud from his lion amulet so that he could gain access to their common room. Even after removing his gardening gloves, his hands were still so grimy that he was getting nowhere.

“Here, let me,” offered Harry as he removed his wand from his back pocket. Scourgify, he intoned mentally as he pointed it at Neville’s chest. A small mountain of dirt and mulch appeared magically on the stairs at Neville’s feet followed almost immediately by the sound of shifting stones.

Shaking his head ruefully, Harry urged Ron and Neville forward. “I’ll call one of the house-elves to take care of this before Hermione sees it,” he promised.

Harry was surprised when Hermione had not returned before they went to bed that night. In his boredom, he kept checking on the mirror but nothing had changed. Frustrated dreams followed long into the night where Draco Malfoy alternately whooped with joy and then laughed maniacally.

Harry finally ran into Hermione the next day as she was returning from the library with her arms full of reference books.

“How would I go about requesting a minute with the headmistress?” he implored. “There’s something I need to ask her.”

“Well, she’s generally pretty busy these days,” Hermione began. Then reading Harry’s determined expression, she added, “It’s not something Lupin could help you with, is it?”

“I don’t really think so,” Harry explained. “Anyway, my appointment with him is not ‘til late in the week and I don’t think this should wait until then.”

Collapsing gratefully into a chair by the roaring fire, she turned to Harry and suggested, “I’m scheduled to help with the cataloging of the library on Monday at ten. Why don’t you go a few minutes ahead so you can see her briefly before I arrive? Would that give you enough time?”

Well, that depends on the answer to my question, Harry thought to himself, but agreed to Hermione’s suggestion nonetheless.




Harry awoke from a deep sleep on Monday to find that Hermione was already dressed in her school robes and was shaking him vigorously.

“I didn’t think that girls were allowed in the boys rooms,” he mumbled groggily as he reached for his glasses.

“Lucky for you there seems to be an emergency override! Do you realize that it’s already past nine? Surely you didn’t forget that you were going to proceed me to the headmistress’ office today, did you?”

Harry hastily shook the last vestiges of sleep from his head. He was about to jump out of bed but found that he was pinned by the way that Hermione was sitting on the blankets.

“Give me a moment to get out of the room first,” she implored as she colored slightly in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t want the room sensors to misread my intentions. You do remember the password I gave you last night, don’t you?” At Harry’s blank expression, she whispered, “Glencoe.”

She caught Harry’s arm as he fumbled for the notepad that he kept on his nightstand.

“You can’t write it down,” Hermione reproached him. “Remember what happened when Neville made a password list?”

Harry concluded wryly that there had been enough breaches of school security without him unwittingly creating another.

After showering in record time, Harry took a few shortcuts he remembered from the Marauder’s Map to arrive outside the headmistress’ office. As he approached the stone gargoyle, he realized with dismay that he could not remember the bloody password.

Think, he commanded himself inwardly, think! Hermione just told you less than an hour ago! All he could recall was that it was a town in Scotland. Improvising, he began, “Glasgow…Edinburgh…Inverness…Aberdeen…Dundee…Fort William.”

None had any effect on the gargoyle. He was about to try Orkney when he remembered that was the name of an island. Realizing that he had exhausted his complete repertoire of Scottish geography, Harry sank down on the pedestal at the gargoyle’s feet and buried his face in his hands.

“What do we have here? Could it be Potty?” declared the sing-song voice of Peeves, the poltergeist.

Harry looked up to find Peeves’ unwelcome form hovering hear the ceiling, giggling wickedly as he casually tossed a small object from one spectral hand to another.

What next? thought Harry as he searched his memory for the one incantation that was guaranteed to drive away Peeves and his interminable practical jokes. Lupin had taught it to the third-years as part of the Dark Arts curriculum; that much he remembered clearly. Was it waddi-willy, willi-nilly, silli-willy, or just something similar? Harry could not recall.

Suddenly, a loud “meow” was heard and a furry orange body launched itself around the corner and into the middle of the corridor. It hissed menacingly at Peeves who suddenly decided he had a pressing appointment in another wing of the castle.

“Crookshanks, I sure am glad to see you,” Harry spoke in a soothing tone as the large cat wound his body around Harry’s legs and began to purr. “I don’t suppose you know the headmistress’ password, do you?”

Harry had to admit that he felt silly talking to a cat but it was probably no worse than carrying on a conversation with an unearthly manifestation such as Peeves �“ and the cat was definitely the better mannered of the two.

Crookshanks’ attention was diverted by a small movement outside the nearby window. With a swish of his tail, he bounded onto the sill and disappeared gracefully along the stone ledge.

Moments later, the sound of stone upon stone indicated that the staircase to the office was turning. Harry jumped to his feet seconds before the gargoyle statue leapt aside to allow Professor McGonagall into the corridor.

Catching sight of Harry, she said, “I thought I heard someone out here. Do you need to see me, Harry? I have a few minutes before my next appointment.”

The circular office was much as Harry remembered from his last visit. Among the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses that lined the walls, the image of Dumbledore still seemed to be enjoying a peaceful nap. The morning sun had bathed the entire room in a golden glow that showed pile upon pile of leather bound books covering much of the floor area.

“Please excuse the mess,” McGonagall offered as she escorted Harry to the visitor’s chair. “Cataloging Dumbledore’s private library has turned out to be a larger undertaking than we first expected. Turns out that many of the shelves had been packed two and three volumes deep.” Sweeping her long skirts under her, she sat behind the gleaming desk and turned to face Harry expectantly.

“Well, you see, Headmistress,” Harry began haltingly, “I’ve recently been studying twin magical objects in my lessons with Professor Lupin. As you recall, last year’s attack on the school was made possible by a discarded Vanishing Cabinet that turned out to be part of a twin set. Whatever became of that Vanishing Cabinet, might I ask?”

McGonagall considered her options briefly before replying, “We have not been able to locate it. Or rather, we have not been able to gain access to the Room of Requirement where it had been secreted by Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry looked up and smiled, “I believe I have worked out how to do so.”

Nearly speechless, the headmistress could only nod in reply. Consulting her desk calendar briefly, she suggested, “Can you meet me in the seventh floor corridor around two o’clock this afternoon? Good, I will bring Professor Flitwick who is an expert on charms and jinxes to assist us.”

“I’ll see if Hagrid can come, too; he may be better at lifting heavy objects,” Harry added helpfully. “That is, if he has a free period at that time.”

The headmistress glanced at her calendar once again before assenting, “I believe he does at that.”



Having missed breakfast that morning, Harry grabbed a quick lunch just as soon as it was served in the Great Hall. Working his way down the grassy slope to Hagrid’s cabin, he passed many of the fourth-year students that had just concluded their Care of Magical Creatures class.

As Harry approached the front steps to the cabin, Fang, Hagrid's gigantic boarhound, came bounding around the corner. Fang was so happy to see Harry that he nearly bowled him over in his enthusiasm. Laughing merrily and wiping much of the extra saliva off of himself with the hem of his school robes, Harry followed Fang around to the paddock in the rear field.

Hagrid was just securing the gate to a huge enclosure where he had lured a small herd of thestrals. Seeing Harry, he engulfed him in a bear hug while Fang jumped excitedly all around them.

“So, how’s yeh bin, Harry?” Hagrid boomed in his usual jovial manner. “Bin wonderin’ when yeh’d get ‘round to seein’ yer old pal, Hagrid.”

“Still getting used to my new routine,” explained Harry. “Or rather lack of one, since Professor Lupin seems to be setting my appointments totally at random.”

“Lupin’s a good man, Harry. Jus' tryin’ to keep yeh on yer toes, no doubt. I hear Hermione’s bin assistin’ the headmistriss with the new library. Never knew ole Dumbledore’d have that many books, heh? Wot’s the news on Ron?”

“He’s been assigned to Professor Flitwick but Ron’s not one to talk about his school assignments, if you know what I mean. Says he managed a draw at wizard’s chess the other day, but hasn’t figured out how to evade the Professor’s maneuvers most of the time.”

Hagrid chuckled amicably. “He’ll get the besta the perfesser before yeh know it. Ron’s always bin a natural. Tell ‘im and Hermione ta be sure’n drop by fer tea, don’ wait for no invitation!”

“So Hagrid,” inquired Harry as he swept his eyes over the back paddock. “What made you decide to start with thestrals this year? Or it is only a lesson for the fourth years?”

“It was the headmistriss’ idea,” Hagrid explained proudly. “Said we should begin with thestrals for all classes exceptin’ the firs’ years. Said they’s was all bound to see ‘em leadin’ the carriages at the station �“ at least the ones tha’ was here for Dumbledore’s funeral �“ and they’d be lots o’ questions.”

Harry remembered that only those who had witnessed death and come to terms with it could see the skeletal horse-like creatures. It had been quite a shock to him to see that the magical carriages had indeed been drawn by these winged creatures. He actually thought he was going crazy until Luna had confided in him that she saw them as well.

“It’s a real revelation,” Harry admitted. “Ron, Ginny, Neville and Hermione were not too keen on riding a thestral when they couldn’t see it beneath them.”

“Sorry I missed tha’,” chortled Hagrid. “All the more reason to have ‘em drop by an’ get a good look. Tell ‘em to bring Neville an’ Ginny, too. Sit in on a few classes, even. The headmistriss is all for tha’.”

Once they settled into the cabin for a cup of tea, Harry regaled him with the tale of the Defense Against Dark Arts class that he’d witnessed. When he got to the part about Neville’s outburst, Hagrid had to stop and take deep breaths to keep from choking on his laughter.

“That Tonks is quite a character,” Hagrid snorted. “I’ll hafta look in on one o’ her classes meself. She’s just wot Lupin needed ta shake the melancholy outta him.”

“So you know then?” Harry asked incredulously.

“I suspec’ all the teachers do. They’ve bin a couple, on an’ off, for a coupla years now.”

“I had no idea,” Harry admitted.

“Naw, none o’ the students did; they’s all too wrapped up in their own activities ta notice half o’ wot goes on around ‘em,” pronounced Hagrid sagely.

“So Hagrid, do you think you could lend a bit of muscle to a little project I have planned for this afternoon?” ventured Harry as he briefly outlined his plan for retrieving the Vanishing Cabinet.

“Be glad ta. It’s gettin’ on two o’clock now so’s we’d best start the long trek up the hill, heh?”

They were the first to arrive at the seventh floor corridor across from the infamous troll tapestry. Not too much later the headmistress arrived with a panting Professor Flitwick close behind.

“I begged her not to take the stairs two at a time,” the diminutive Professor wheezed in apology.

“Now, Mr. Potter,” commanded the headmistress, “you promised us a demonstration. I checked the surrounding hallways; no one else is about.”

Harry took a deep breath and thought about how he should word his request. There was only one option that would work for him, he decided. I need to find the Potions textbook that I hid in here…I need to find the Potions textbook that I hid in here…I need to find the Potions textbook that I hid in here, he chanted inwardly as he traced his steps three times in front of the blank wall, eyes squeezed shut.

An appreciative murmur from the others indicated that he had been successful. He opened his eyes to see that the blank wall had grown a door in the middle.

McGonagall was not willing to let Harry enter alone even if it was just to ascertain that he had called up the proper incarnation of the room. They settled on having Professor Flitwick accompany him in case they encountered any unforeseen circumstances.

With a hammering heart, Harry opened the door just enough for him and the tiny Professor to enter. With a sigh of relief, the room was just as he had remembered if from before: a cavernous chamber so filled with discarded objects that it looked like a miniature city. Narrow avenues branched off in all directions. Professor Flitwick agreed to wait for Harry from atop a small stool he had found adjacent to the door.

Harry had already concluded that his first order of business was to locate the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that had once belonged to the Half-Blood Prince. It was essential that he satisfy the magical properties of the room by completing the task that had gained him entry in the first place. To do otherwise would likely doom all future attempts to reach this site.

After a few false starts, he located the proper route among the towering piles of discarded objects. Around the next corner, he found the massive wardrobe with the marred finish. The ugly bust, transformed from a wizard to a witch by the addition of a jaunty wig and tiara, was perched on top just as he remembered. With bated breath, he reached inside and located the contours of the book. It appeared to be intact. He double-checked the small inscription on the inside back cover that identified it as belonging to the Half-Blood Prince.

Harry resisted a sudden urge to stuff the old text into his book bag to show Lupin. Sooner or later he knew he would have to do so; especially once Lupin began analyzing how he, a mere student, has succeeded in unlocking the secrets to the Room of Requirement. Harry was certain that Lupin already suspected that there was more to the story of Draco and the Vanishing Cabinet than Harry had included in their discussion. But Lupin would have to wait; for now, it was safest to leave the book hidden as before. He looked back over his shoulder to check that everything had been left as he remembered and to burn the image once again into his memory.

Turning to the right this time, Harry located another avenue that would lead him back to Professor Flitwick. At the same time, he spied the Vanishing Cabinet peeking out from a pile of moth-eaten coats. In their hasty entrance, the Death Eaters must have knocked it over on its back.

“Eureka!” exclaimed Harry as Professor Flitwick rushed over to see for himself.

“Good work, my boy!” the Professor complimented as he gave the cabinet a cursory examination to make sure that there were no hidden jinxes. Then with a quick flick of his wand, Flitwick melted the key into the keyhole so it could no longer be turned.

Throwing the door to the Room of Requirement wide, Flitwick invited the others inside. Hagrid assisted them in righting the cabinet while McGonagall pronounced in an awed tone that this was indeed the same cabinet that had once stood on the first floor of the castle.

Alternately shoving and levitating the cabinet, Hagrid and Flitwick removed it to Filch’s woodpile. At the specific request of the headmistress, Filch’s assignment for the remainder of the afternoon was to reduce the cabinet to kindling.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 12
Mad About Muggles


A number of days later Harry was awakened from an afternoon doze in one of the comfy chairs by the fire. Despite the rainstorm outside, it still sounded like an entire battalion was marching through the stone sconce.

It turned out that it was only Ron and Hermione who had invited Ginny for her first tour of their new quarters. The three of them were in unusually boisterous spirits.

“Oh hi, Harry!” Ginny waved from across the room. “Don’t see you around as much anymore now that you have your own common room.”

Before he had a chance to frame a response, Hermione pulled Ginny into the private bathroom and all Harry could hear was a strangely distorted echo of their sprightly conversation. The tile refracted Ron’s voice in a deeper tone, but the words were just as unintelligible. Even their laughter had a strange barking quality to it. Once they had finished showing her the private bed chambers �“ Ron’s from the safety of the door frame �“ they returned to the common room where Harry was still lounging by the fireplace.

“You’re completely right, Ron,” Ginny was saying, “there is absolutely no way that the Head Boy’s quarters were remotely this nice during Percy’s reign. He would never have been able to keep from rubbing our noses in it.”

Seeing that Harry had not moved from his chair, Ron asked, “Did you spend the entire afternoon in the common room, Harry? Not that there was much point in going outside, mind you.”

Hermione jumped in with, “There are posters all over the school announcing a special assembly at supper tonight. We are all to be at our house tables by six.”

“By order of the headmistress,” Ron interjected.

“Wonder what that’s all about?” Ginny posed mysteriously, then started giggling. “Gotta go. See you later, Harry.”

Hermione opened the sconce for her and with a quick wave, she was gone.

“Have you seen Neville, lately?” Harry asked. “It seems like he’s never around.”

“McGonagall’s got him doing double duty as Head Boy,” Hermione explained. “Due to the decreased enrollment this year, the school’s having to make do with less than the full complement of Prefects.”

“I only found out today that there has been no Head Girl named this year,” Ron added.

“I was the one who told you that,” Hermione protested.

“Doesn’t make it any less true, now does it?” Ron retorted.

Deliberately ignoring Ron, Hermione turned towards Harry with a dramatic sigh. “There are only two other seventh year students. Susan Bones in Hufflepuff and Daphne Greengrass in Slytherin.”

“How do you keep abreast of all these things, Hermione?” Harry asked wearily.

“I ran into them in the library,” she answered simply.

Neville had not returned when they made their way down the marble staircase at a quarter to six that evening. When they entered the Great Hall, though, he was waving to them from the front of the Gryffindor table. They waved back but Harry decided that he preferred the view from about halfway down the long trestle table. That way, he could see what was happening at the adjoining tables as well. They found an empty spot and seated themselves just in time. The room was filling up fast!

Silence fell over the students as the headmistress assumed the podium in her usual dignified manner. Looking over the crowd of expectant faces, she smiled briefly. “I have called this assembly to advise you of some recent changes to the school curriculum. Unfortunately, many of the details were still being worked out at the time of the welcoming feast so I was not able to address them then… After a long and distinguished career with this institution, Professor Farquar has decided to retire to travel the world with his aging father. Many of your parents will remember the elder Mr. Farquar who also taught Muggle Studies prior to his son assuming those duties. It is their fervent wish to satisfy their curiosity concerning Muggle customs throughout the world. We wish them both a fond bon voyage… It is with great pleasure, then, that I announce that our own Rolanda Hooch will be assuming the Muggle Studies classes this year.”

She waited for the applause to die down before continuing, “I can see by your enthusiasm that many of you have already seen the notices that have been posted throughout the school, but I felt that it was important to make an official announcement. Those of you who wish to sign up for Muggle Studies may still do so until Friday of this week; notices have been posted in the common rooms of all Houses. By the long list of those who have already expressed an interest, I can see that it will be quite a challenge to magically reshuffle so many class schedules. Rest assured, however, that new schedules will be distributed Monday morning by all Heads of Houses.”

Once again the headmistress waited for the murmuring of the crowd to draw to a close before resuming. “But it is for another purpose that I have called you here tonight. Due to the diligent efforts of a small contingent of students, I am pleased to announce that Hogwarts will be hosting its first ever Halloween Costume Ball!”

The response was immediate and overwhelming. The headmistress shook her head indulgently and took a moment to smile apologetically in the direction of the other teachers. Harry noticed that only one place was empty at the head table, but his attention was diverted by Ginny squeezing herself in between him and Hermione. Both she and Hermione were practically bouncing in their seats with excitement!

The boisterous spirit of the crowd showed no signs of letting up until Professor McGonagall pointed her wand towards the clock tower to bring forth a resounding gong. Even then it was a few moments before she was able to continue. “Many of the older students will remember when we hosted the Yule Ball a number of years ago. Although this event may appear to be very similar in nature, I assure you that there will be major differences.” Her voice took on a solemn tone as she proceeded, “I don’t have to remind you that these are dark times indeed �“ and while a bit of merrymaking may raise our spirits, we cannot forget that the safety of the students, faculty, and staff of this institution remain my primary concern at all times. Consequently, I have agreed to allow this celebration to take place under very controlled circumstances. Please understand that these guidelines have been put in place to guarantee the continued good health of everyone involved.”

“Sounds like old Fleur could really use a page from McGonagall’s book on wedding planning,” whispered Ginny fiercely. “Not that she’s likely to take advice from anyone…”

“Firstly,” announced Professor McGonagall after consulting her notes, “there will not be any outside guests allowed. While I am still considering whether this restriction will be relaxed for the faulty and staff, rest assured that no exceptions will be made for the students. Please do not make me have to disappoint you. Secondly, the event will be open to Hogwarts students of all ages--” A brief pause to allow for the cheering to subside. “�”and there is no requirement that you bring a date.”

Professor Hooch caught the headmistress’ attention and passed her an additional piece of parchment. The briefest flicker of surprise registered on Professor McGonagall’s features before she composed herself once again. It was clear to Harry, though, that her tone assumed a more playful note as she addressed them.

“For those of you who may not be aware, the custom of dressing up on All Hallow’s Eve is one that originated with Muggles attempting to imitate witches and wizards. We at Hogwarts are going to turn that custom on its head; our witches and wizards are going to dress up like Muggles! Although costume balls were quite popular during my youth, the recent revival comes to us from the unlikely shores of America. So as an added challenge, we are calling upon you to draw from American cultural icons. Please remember that this is about exploring characters and not living personages; so please seek inspiration from literature, stage and screen.”

She paused dramatically and with a grand gesture of her wand, fully half the candles that hung suspended above them blew out instantly. In the eerie hush that followed, with the smell of fresh ozone lingering in the air, it was clear to Harry why the grandmotherly witch before him was still a force with which to be reckoned. With every eye riveted on her, with every side conversation hushed in mid-stream, Professor McGonagall continued in a barely audible whisper, “I have been informed that the magic witching hour known to Muggles everywhere is twelve o’clock midnight. So in keeping with the spirit of the event, the Halloween Ball will not conclude until one a.m.”

It was a tribute to the charged atmosphere that permeated the Great Hall that the scattering of weak cheers died down almost instantly. McGonagall’s raptor gaze slowly swept the grim faces that lined the long rows of tables, seeming to bore into everyone’s soul in turn. “Anyone found sleeping before the appointed hour will be promptly turned into a toad and banished to his or her dormitory forthwith. Beheadings will occur at the discretion of our own Mr. Filch.”

In that last quiet millisecond, Harry could have sworn that he saw Filch’s hands twitch ever so briefly as if he was going to burst into spontaneous applause and it was taking all of his willpower to restrain himself. But then the mood was broken as the students realized that the beheadings had just been a macabre joke on the part of the headmistress. With a flick of her wrist, the candles all re-ignited and the Hall was once again bathed in a golden glow.

“Please hold your cheering to a minimum as I have a few more announcements to make. As our resident expert on Muggles, Professor Hooch will be overseeing the costume ball but she is depending upon all of us to make it happen. Hermione Granger �“ please stand up �“ deserves special credit for the original concept so I am awarding fifteen points to Gryffindor! Since she has a Muggle cousin in California, I am appointing her as the Student Liaison for Costume Concept and Design. She will help you come up with an idea if you need one.

"I understand that Ginny Weasley �“ stand up also �“ has been instrumental in obtaining the cooperation of the Merchant’s League of Hogsmeade Village who have agreed to assist with the creation of any unique costume that you desire. This is an option only for those of you who may wish to purchase a costume. On her behalf, I am awarding an additional ten points to Gryffindor and appointing her to the post of Costume Procurement!

"Professor Tonks has agreed to assist students with assembling costumes out of household items or from clothing that has been donated to the Costume Office. I don’t have to tell anyone that she has demonstrated a superior aptitude in these areas. While I cannot award her any House points �“ despite her previous ties to Hufflepuff �“ she can award those points herself to any student who she finds particularly deserving. She will be assigned to the post of Costume Consultant Extraordinaire!”

Silencing the crowd with her trademark no-nonsense glare, Professor McGonagall announced in a more serious tone, “So as to remind us that there is always a solution to even the most twisted conundrum, I take great pleasure in recognizing Harry Potter and awarding him fifty points for Gryffindor! As a result of his resourcefulness, Hogwarts has been made a safer place today!”

Harry was so taken aback that the words did not register immediately. It was only after he’d been slapped on the back for the twelfth time that he finally realized that he’d been smiling all along. He had no idea what he’d tell the people that pressed him for details, but that was a problem for a different day.

The headmistress tried to dismiss the assemblage with the words, “Now before you run off to search your closets and your roommates’ closets--” but the remainder was drowned out by the joyous uproar that ensued. So many students tried to leave their places during the superb supper that followed that the Hogwarts ghosts were finally corralled into floating the committee task sheets from volunteer to volunteer, up and down the long tables.

As he prudently declined a third serving of pudding, Harry idly looked up at the head table and realized with a start that it was Professor Trelawney’s chair that was empty.




Harry and Ron had already settled into a game of wizard’s chess when they heard the sound of the stone sconce. Hermione and then Ginny scrambled through as if they were being chased by dementors.

“Can’t believe we finally made it out of there!” Hermione panted.

“I don’t think we would have had a chance if it hadn’t been for Peeves,” Ginny admitted. “Poor Neville, he stepped right in the line of fire to protect the first and second years and got it right in the chest!”

“Not the inkwells again?” Ron asked hopefully as he looked up from capturing Harry’s second knight. The miniature knight was stumbling all over the chessboard, groaning piteously and otherwise making the most of his big finale.

“Just water balloons,” answered Ginny.

“Say, Ron,” Harry suggested merrily, “if we put disappearing ink in the bottles, could we trick Peeves into clearing a path for the girls instead?”

“You two are just as bad as Fred and George,” sniffed Hermione from her position next to the entrance. She handed Neville a towel as he emerged dripping from behind the sconce.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Neville said in grateful acknowledgement.

“It’s the least I could do; I knew you were right behind us.”

“Say, guys,” Ginny ventured, “you don’t mind if I hang around here for a bit, do you? It’s bound to be mayhem in the dormitories below and I don’t fancy being the favorite pull toy.” Seeing that no one objected, she collapsed gratefully among the fluffy cushions.

Neville emerged in dry clothes, continuing to towel his hair absently. “Do tell, Harry,” he urged excitedly as he joined the group in front of the fire. “Tell us about the great service that you performed for the school. McGonagall was pretty vague.”

“Well, if we’re going to be celebrating, I might as well break out the secret stash of butterbeer,” suggested Ron. He returned with five frosty bottles that he passed around.

“They’re cold and everything!” Hermione remarked incredulously.

“So you’re the only one who can perform magic?” Ron scoffed.

Slightly embarrassed by the undue attention, Harry relayed the events surrounding the destruction of the Vanishing Cabinet. “You were all there the night it happened; but what am I going to tell anyone else that presses me for details? There’s no point in making everyone feel vulnerable all over again.”

“I don’t think the headmistress would want everyone to know that the Vanishing Cabinet was just laying there in wait all these months,” Hermione ventured.

“I just can’t believe that none of the teachers were able to get into that room,” Ginny remarked as she shook her head.

“That’s just it,” confided Harry in a whisper, “I know for certain that wasn’t the case; Trelawney could have done it.”

“Just one moment,” Ginny interjected as she aimed a well-placed muffliato charm toward the entrance sconce.

Hermione started to open her mouth to protest then thought better of it.

Harry recounted how earlier that same night, he had encountered Professor Trelawney right outside the Room of Requirement. She’d been thrown out into the hall by a man �“obviously Malfoy, in retrospect �“ that she had interrupted while he was shouting triumphantly. His suspicions aroused, Harry had convinced the Professor to accompany him to Dumbledore’s office to relay the information first hand.

“But she never did,” lamented Harry. “I made her wait outside the office while I confronted Dumbledore about Snape’s involvement in the death of my parents. Then when I left the office to fetch my Invisibility Cloak, she was no longer waiting in the corridor. I gave Ron and Hermione the last of my Felix potion and then rejoined Dumbledore.”

“But you tried for months to get into the room where Malfoy was working �“ without any success! How are you sure that Trelawney figured it out?” Hermione exclaimed.

From the empty sherry bottles that the Professor was trying to hide, Harry had concluded that Malfoy had been working in the same cavernous room that appeared whenever someone sought a hiding place. “While I didn’t make the connection until later,” Harry explained, “she would have recognized the cabinet for what it was when she returned to secrete her empties.”

“Perhaps she returned while you and Dumbledore were away,” suggested Neville.

“I don’t think she could have,” Ron interjected. “We had the Room of Requirement under surveillance the whole time: either on the Map or when Ginny and Neville were helping me guard the corridor.”

“I don’t think she would have tried to go back while Malfoy was in there, anyway,” Ginny agreed. “Especially judging from the abrupt manner in which she had been ejected.”

“So that means that she would either have had to go back later that night when the school was in a huge uproar and people were wandering all over the place,” surmised Hermione, “or more likely, she would have waited until things quieted down…”

“Exactly! At which point the details of how the Death Eaters had gained access would have been common knowledge to the teachers and staff,” Harry concluded.

“Are you sure she went back?” pressed Ginny.

“Positive,” Harry replied. “I saw her hide the bottles temporarily in one of the huge vases at the end of the corridor. When I went back, the bottles were no longer there. What’s more, Professor Trelawney was not present at the assembly tonight.”

The gentle sound of the crackling fire seemed to fill the room as everyone took a moment to ponder the implications of Harry’s analysis.

Neville broke the silence as he declared, “I don’t remember Trelawney attending Dumbledore’s funeral, either.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.



Chapter 13
The Doyennes of Disguise


Harry shoved the disquiet that he felt concerning Professor Trelawney into the back of his mind as he dived into a mountain of new assignments from Professor Lupin. Since the mirror project had been temporarily shelved pending results, Lupin had assigned Harry to master a considerable amount of charms and hexes. He was having difficulty in locating many of the counter-charms before he faced the Professor for the practical demonstration that he knew was sure to follow.

He was lounging in the common room after one particularly frustrating evening of searching through the tomes of the restricted section, his thoughts still on his assignments as he vainly searched for inspiration in the flickering grate. Hermione stumbled through the entrance sconce, weighed down by books and catalogues in her book bag as well as a sizeable stack in her arms. Regaining her balance at the last minute, she dumped her books onto one of the large desks that lined the room. With a heartfelt sigh, she collapsed in the chair across from Harry.

“What a day that was,” she murmured. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer yourself.”

“Just another fruitless day in the library,” offered Harry. “Lupin has me preparing for what I know will turn out to be a dueling match and I’m not having much luck finding counter-spells.”

“You don’t think he will be impressed by a well-placed protego charm, then?”

“Hardly.”

“What about some of those books that were on the shelves when we met for the D.A. meetings?” Hermione suggested. “I remember finding Jinxes for the Jinxed to be quite helpful.”

“I haven’t found anything remotely like that in the library so far �“ and I swear I’ve been through the restricted section at least twice,” Harry complained.

“I may have actually run across another copy of that one in Dumbledore’s stash,” Hermione mused. “Why don’t you accompany me to the headmistress’ office tomorrow morning and we can look together? I think I can probably convince her to let you borrow it temporarily.”

Harry started to mumble his thanks, but Hermione’s attention had already been diverted by Ron who was thumbing through the top-most book in her lopsided pile. She was up in a flash but Ron held the book out of her reach playfully.

“Please be careful with that one,” warned Hermione. “My mother sent it to me specially and you wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to convince Filch to release it. He was determined to file it in his contraband drawer regardless of Professor Hooch’s permission slip. Had Professor McGonagall not interceded on my behalf--”

“Now that I know it comes so highly recommended by Filch,” Harry noted with a rich chuckle, “I think I’d like to take a look myself! I promise we’ll take good care of it,” he added when he noticed Hermione’s irritated look.

The book in question was entitled Halloween Entertaining and its cover featured a photograph of a woman wearing the most outlandish imitation of wizarding attire Harry had ever seen. The effect was heightened by weird yellow eyes with vertically slit pupils that gave her a reptilian appearance.

“Is this woman an American witch?” inquired Ron when he realized that Hermione was standing at his elbow.

“Not in the way that you mean it, no,” she answered laughing. “But her staff may argue that point with you.”

Seeing the perplexed look on Ron’s face, Hermione explained that her cousin had suggested the book even though the woman on the cover had a notorious reputation. It was widely known that all of the real work that went into any of her publications was the result of a cracker-jack staff; she was just the figurehead.

“Kind of like that Gilderoy Lockhart fellow,” Harry remarked.

“Well, sort of,” Hermione admitted.

“And Muggles don’t see through her sham?” asked Ron incredulously.

“Oh, they do, but they still buy her products.” Hermione shrugged to indicate the inexplicability of humanity.

“Are you sure she’s not a witch?” Revulsion was etched on Ron’s face as pointed to a photo of the same woman draped in black tulle festooned with rather large spiders. “This outfit looks like she shops in the same stores as Bellatrix Lestrange!”

“Sssh,” Hermione hissed as she shut the book. “You wouldn’t want Neville to overhear you!”

Harry was reminded of the deranged look of triumph on Bellatrix’s face as she forced Sirius back through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Just like that, the images in Hermione’s book didn’t seem so funny after all. He excused himself and retired for the night. He could still hear Ron and Hermione bickering faintly in the background as he drifted off to sleep.

---

By mid-week, Hermione, Ginny and Tonks had set up temporary offices in an empty classroom on the ground floor. Posters had gone up throughout the school detailing the headmistress’ costuming guidelines and Tonks had already been obligated to magically expand the closet where she was busy cataloguing the donated clothing and props.

Hermione’s section was instantly recognizable as she had plastered a huge photo of her aunt and uncle impersonating Charles and Diana around the time of the royal engagement. It was being used as an example of how to assemble a costume from scratch.

Hermione leaned over Harry as he studied the photograph in minute detail. “My cousin says this was taken the year she was born,” Hermione began conversationally. “Her parents won the grand prize at the costume ball.”

“I can see why,” Harry observed. “They’re dead-ringers for Charles and Di.”

“Not really,” Hermione replied as she affixed a small picture labeled ‘BEFORE’ next to the giant one. “My aunt actually has long brownish hair but had it colored and cut specially. The lacy dress was a leftover maternity gown that was one of the few things she could still reasonably wear until she finished loosing her baby weight. My uncle fashioned his outfit using an old college band uniform and a discarded Marine Corps jacket he found in an attic trunk.”

“What about the ring?” Harry pointed to the photo.

“Cheap costume jewelry. But what made them really stand out was that they had both not only adopted the proper cadences in their speech, but had also studied the mannerisms of Charles and Diana. My cousin claims that her mom can still strike a perfect ‘shy Di’ pose that makes her do a double-take even without the costume.”

“But I thought that costumes resembling living persons weren’t allowed,” Harry pointed out.

“That was the headmistress’ stipulation, yes; but I’m only using this as an example. Here look at these,” Hermione offered as she magically tacked a pair of slightly smaller posters right next to the ‘Royals.’ Each bore two photos: the first ones showing Errol Flynn and Bela Lugosi, the actors; the next set showed Flynn dressed as Robin Hood and Lugosi as Dracula. “This illustrates the distinction that the headmistress was trying to make: that while dressing up as these men would not be a proper costume, Robin Hood or Count Dracula would be. There are just so many characters that have become synonymous with the actors that portrayed them that it is often tricky to make the distinction.”

To Harry quizzical look, she added, “It’s like the difference between impersonating Abraham Lincoln and your Aunt Rose from Cleveland.”

“Perhaps that would be a better example,” Harry suggested pointedly.

But Hermione stood her ground as she regarded him with hands on hips. “And just how many of the students would know who Lincoln was, realistically speaking? Both you and I went to a Muggle primary school, but that’s not true for everyone.”

“Then it would motivate them to do a bit of research.”

She gave him the skeptical look that was Mrs. Weasley’s trademark. “If you think the drive to research things in the library is a universal trait, you are going to be disappointed. Take it from someone who knows.”

“What about as a costume idea then?”

“I’ve been trying to quash that as well.”

“Too obvious?”

“Besides that, there’s nothing in the clothing that illustrates the character,” Hermione asserted.

“You don’t think that a beard and a tall stovepipe hat are distinctive enough?” Harry queried with a sardonic lift to his eyebrow.

“Don’t forget that he always dressed like an undertaker,” she added with a small snigger. Then in a more serious tone, she reasserted, “It’s not unique enough attire. Here let me demonstrate.”

She rummaged in her desk drawer briefly before removing a folder that contained a number of sepia-toned photographs which she laid out on the desk. Each was identified by tag lines along the bottom edge. Harry leaned over for a better look at Benjamin Disraeli, Rutherford B. Hayes and a group shot from an exclusive London men’s club circa 1890.

With a satisfied smile, Hermione explained, “You see, it was practically the uniform of the day during most of Queen Victoria’s reign, both here and in America…. Besides what made Lincoln unique was his oratory style: poetic and succinct.”

“And you don’t see any of the students pulling that one off,” Harry surmised with a nod. “What about one of the teachers?”

Hermione took a moment to consider the possibilities. “Flitwick’s got the proper demeanor,” she offered gamely, “but you have to admit, he’s a bit short in stature.”

“What about Lupin? He’s tall.”

Hermione barely stifled a laugh before returning, “I believe Lupin’s exploring a slightly less staid side of his personality.”

Harry was about to probe for more information, but then decided that he shouldn’t ask her to betray Tonks’ confidence. Taking a different tack, he posed, “How are you going to keep people from bending the rules to suit themselves, though?”

“Very simply. Everyone’s concept must be signed off by either a teacher, Ginny or myself. That’s the last item on the costume checklist.”

“No wonder I hardly ever see you in the common room anymore,” Harry said. “Thanks for getting me the book, anyway; it sure has made my studying go much better.”

“So you’re prepared to duel Lupin?” she replied as she assumed a jaunty en garde position.

“Not just yet, but I sure could use some practice. Care to give me your best shot?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorry, Harry, I’m just swamped this week. Did you ask Ginny?”

At the mention of her name, Ginny stuck her head around the next partition.

“Not another one needing alterations?” she intoned wearily. Then seeing Harry her face brightened up immediately. “Oh, Harry, didn’t realize it was you. Missed you at the Quidditch tryouts �“ but I understand why you felt that your presence would have distracted me from choosing my own team members.”

“So did you recruit any good ones?” Harry asked cheerfully, suddenly grateful that Hermione had insisted on making his excuses.

“We’ll see how they do after I whip them into shape,” Ginny replied. “Luckily, Gryffindor doesn’t play until the second match of the season, so I have a bit of time.”

Hermione interrupted tactfully with, “Harry was looking for a sparring partner to prepare for his upcoming duel with Professor Lupin…”

“Sounds exciting; where do we get tickets?” Ron’s ginger head popped into view as he came around the corner.

“Now you sound just like Fred and George,” Hermione remarked. “It’s just a class assignment that Harry is preparing.”

At the mention of school work, Ron backed away awkwardly. Hermione grabbed him by the arm and led him the rest of the way toward the exit. “Got another appointment.” She waved good-bye from the door.

Harry instantly felt at a loss for words with only Ginny in the room.

“So your assignment is to prepare for a wizard’s duel with Lupin?” she inquired. “Pretty tall order, if you ask me. He always struck me as a rather competent wizard in his own right.”

Grateful for her steering the conversation in a comfortable direction, Harry replied, “He really hasn’t come out and said that we’ll be dueling; but he has me learning a whole bunch of spells and jinxes--”

“And counter-jinxes by the look of that volume you’ve been carrying around for the past week,” observed Ginny. “All right, I’ll give it a try. But you’ll have to loan me your material for a quick review or I won’t have a chance of preparing you for Lupin’s offensive.”

Ginny couldn’t help noticing that Harry’s eyes kept reverting to Hermione’s posters. “Sort of wish she could have used people that the students could instantly identify,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, that was sort of the point I was trying to make,” Harry conceded.

“That was the general consensus �“ except for the headmistress. She was adamant that using any photos that depicted current celebrities could subject the school to legal action from overactive publicists.”

“They have such over-blown egos?” Harry sniggered.

“Apparently so,” Ginny added with a smirk of her own. “The headmistress stressed that she would rather be hexed a thousandfold than to face down a cadre of Muggle solicitors.” Lowering her voice to a confidential whisper, she supplied for Harry’s ears alone, “Hinted that even the Cruciatus Curse paled in comparison.”

Harry laughed appreciatively, but without another ready-made subject for discussion it wasn’t long before Ginny’s close presence alone was enough to unnerve him. Stepping back onto familiar ground, he reiterated that he would turn over his study materials at dinner so that she could prepare and then ducked out the door.

When he arrived in the Great Hall that evening, though, he found Ginny and Hermione already in a huddle and surrounded by a small mountain of open books.

“Hi, Harry,” she waved him over as Hermione hastily closed the books. “Looks like I won’t need to borrow your materials after all. Hermione found me some other books that might help me to prepare. I have Quidditch practice tomorrow at six, so let’s say about eight o’clock then?”

---

Harry supplemented his studying the next day with a lot of tentative wand work as he prepared for the first practice session. He dashed off for a quick dinner, nothing too heavy to slow his reflexes, and was back in the common room by seven o’clock for a bit of last minute reviewing. Neville was studying his Herbology texts at the next desk so it made for companionable silence.

As the hour drew near, Hermione tumbled through the sconce and sank down wearily by the fire.

“Harry,” she began in a tremulous voice, “you wouldn’t happen to know where Ron keeps the butterbeer, would you? I could really use something to calm my nerves.”

Neville offered to share his pot of tea with her as Harry passed her a clean mug and some milk and sugar. She sipped slowly and carefully watched each of them in turn, hearted by their presence.

Ginny preceded Ron through the entrance and immediately ran to Hermione’s side when she saw the stricken look on her friend’s face.

“What happened, Hermione?” she asked gently.

Hermione took a deep breath and carefully placed her empty mug on the tea tray before beginning. “I had to turn away a costume idea from a first-year just now and I didn’t realize it would hit me so hard.”

“Did he break down in tears?” offered Ginny.

“No, he actually took it rather stoically once we were able to explain…Oh, here let me show you,” she offered, pulling out a slick video magazine full of offers for Muggle DVD’s. “We’ve been using this as a sort of impromptu guide to movie characters,” she explained to the boys.

She flipped open the page and pointed to the cast of an elaborately crafted trilogy, full of those creatures that Muggles considered to be nothing but myth but which freely roamed the wizarding world. Actors in detailed costumes portrayed elves, dwarves, giants, trolls and numerous dark creatures that would give a Death Eater nightmares. When the folio reached Harry, he had to turn it this way and that to avoid the glare on its shiny surface. Peering carefully at the figure that Hermione had signaled out, Harry had to admit that the silver-haired wizard in a pointed hat looked remarkably like Dumbledore!

“I was in total shock when he showed me. I didn’t know how to explain the sense of loss, the total inappropriateness…” Hermione’s words trailed off. “Luckily, Professor McGonagall was conferring with Tonks and came to my rescue.”

“Was she able to explain it to the first-year?” Neville asked softly.

Hermione nodded and detailed how the headmistress had taken the first-year aside and pulled a chocolate frog card from her pocket that just, somehow, managed to have Dumbledore’s picture on it. She had patiently explained about the school’s beloved headmaster who had died unexpectedly last term. Since most of the students here were present at the funeral, she’d said, it would just be too sad if someone were to dress as a character that was sure to remind everyone of their loss.

“Then she pointed out the white tomb that could just be seen at the edge of the lake in the twilight,” Hermione concluded, wiping a tear from her right eye.

“Were you able to suggest an alternative costume?” Ginny inquired in a helpful tone.

As Hermione hung her head, Ginny placed her hand gently on Hermione’s forearm and urged her up. “Don’t worry about it,” she soothed as she led Hermione towards her room, “I think Fred and George have a super-hero suit that just might fit a first-year. It was mis-sized and I’m sure we can get him a discount.”

Ginny caught Harry’s hand in passing and whispered, “Another time…”

Harry was about to turn in himself when he noticed that Ron was still fascinated with the slick Muggle catalog.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ron marveled. “Look at this figure here.”

Harry and Neville gathered around the image, but it was just too small to be distinguished in the dim light. With an impatient flick of his wand, Ron enlarged the image to cover the entire page. He pointed to a small hunched figure slinking at the feet of the ersatz Dumbledore. “Is it just my imagination, or does this character here �“ decked out in nothing but a loincloth �“ remind you of Kreacher?” Ron demanded.

Harry was inexplicably reminded of the description of Lupin’s vacation rental: a house belonging to a wizard who had acted as a consultant to a moviemaker.

---

The first Hogsmeade weekend was scheduled before the end of September to allow students to begin their costume quests. The headmistress had considered whether to allow the first and second years to go along, but decided that there was not enough time to procure all the parental permission slips �“ let alone the added supervision necessary for such a large contingent.

Ginny had been assigned the supplemental duties of aiding the first and second years with costume purchases (owl service was strongly encouraged) and with arranging for any additional alterations that might be required. Ginny had taken it all in stride, suddenly grateful that her mother had insisted she practice the necessary charms over the summer holidays each year. As the sole female of seven children, she had naturally bristled at the extra familial obligations thrust upon her. Grudgingly, she had come to realize over the past few weeks, however, that perhaps her mother had shown extraordinary foresight.

While other volunteers had been able to lend a hand with pinning garments as needed, it was a cumbersome method of accomplishing what could be done with the tip of a wand. Always eager to master a new spell, Hermione had attempted to learn from Ginny. But it had become quickly apparent that it was a skill that required the steel nerves and steady hands of a surgeon �“ not to mention a great deal of practice. In the end, Hermione had contented herself with the taking of measurements.

Halloween frenzy seemed to take over the entire student population as they entered into the first weeks of October. Practically every student was consumed with assembling the perfect costume, involved in one of the event committees, or part of the extra activities that had been assigned in Muggle Studies classes �“ often all three. Harry noted that House rivalry had reared its head as the Decorating and Refreshment Committees were overrun with volunteers from Ravenclaw and Slytherin. The Hufflepuff presence was not so easily pinpointed; but Harry supposed that as Tonks was part of the Costume Office, her enthusiasm would likely infect them as well.

In an unprecedented move, the start of the Quidditch season was postponed until November, which in turn meant that the Gryffindor team would not play its first game against Hufflepuff until December. While this took some of the pressure off Ginny, she still had more than enough added responsibilities to consume her days.

Harry accepted that his dueling practice sessions would likely have to wait until after the Halloween Ball. Luckily, the preparation frenzy seemed to have spread through the ranks of the teachers as well, and Lupin had not been pressing Harry as hard as before. He even confided that Tonks had made numerous trips to her favorite antique stores and weekend flea markets in London in order to assemble the perfect ensemble.

“As part of the Costume Office, I think she feels the need to demonstrate her skill,” he confessed with a smile. “Either that or competitiveness has consumed her and she is determined to win the costume contest.”

“But won’t she have an unfair advantage by being a Metamorphmagus?” Harry inquired as this was the first he’d heard about a contest.

“Oh, she’s bound by the same restrictions as everyone else. She has to do it the Muggle way �“ otherwise, she’ll be the first to be disqualified. Perhaps it’s the challenge that’s fueling her after all.”

“I’m surprised that she’s not assembling her outfit from the items in her own wardrobe,” commented Harry.

“That would just be business as usual for Tonks; what would be the fun in that? Besides,” Lupin added with a laugh, “she’s in charge of assembling my costume, not hers. That was the deal we made. My only stipulation was no cheesy outfits.”

“So you don’t have any idea what she has in store for you?” Harry asked merrily.

“Well, I did warn her that I reserved the right to file for divorce, if necessary,” Lupin quipped. “No seriously, I trust her �“ just as she will have to trust me.”

“So you picked out her costume?” Harry inquired, forgetting that this was probably none of his business.

Lupin nodded with a twinkle in his eye. “Hermione helped me decide. I think it will suit Tonks perfectly!”

And so it went throughout the month: a bit of lessons and some friendly patter from Lupin. His relaxed attitude so surprised Harry that he became convinced that Lupin was just trying to lull him into a false sense of security. Any day now, he expected the professor to pounce at him from behind his desk with his wand at the ready. On pleasant days when they often hiked the surrounding countryside, Harry had taken to skirting the largest trees warily as he awaited the inevitable ambush. But the ambush never came �“ at least not yet �“ and it only convinced Harry to work harder on his spells.

Despite the whirlwind that surrounded him at times, Harry held to the principles that he had presented to McGonagall when he had agreed to return for a seventh year: he was going to keep from getting overly involved in extra-curricular activities. There were plenty of other people yearning for a chance to prove themselves with committee assignments and he was not going to allow himself to feel guilty for sitting this one out. His foremost priority, he reminded himself, was to gain as much knowledge as possible in preparation for the uncertain future �“ a future that might very well come knocking earlier than expected.

That’s not to say that he wasn’t going to allow himself some well-deserved recreation. So with less than a month to go before the big event, Harry turned his thoughts to assembling a costume of his own. Looking through his closet, the only festive clothing he found were the formal robes he had worn to the Yule Ball in his fourth year. He checked to see that they were still in good condition and then wandered down to the Costume Office for a consultation with the resident experts.

Luckily, Hermione had just finished with a group of third-years and had a bit of free time before her next appointment. When he outlined the basis for his costume, she thought it had promise and showed him some variations that could be worked around it.

“I don’t know, Hermione,” he protested. “Everything just seems too campy.”

“Oooh, I think I know just the thing,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Let me get it from my room.”

Harry made room for her to pass, but instead of walking out into the corridor, she went over to the nearest window and pushed it open a bit further. “I can summon it from here, I always leave my window open for Crookshanks,” she clarified.

In a matter of moments, she was holding a fancy souvenir program from a West End theatre production.

“I saw this over the summer for the third time with my parents,” she admitted as Harry thumbed through pages of spectacular photographs. “I know it’s kind of hokey �“ and totally overblown �“ but it’s still a great favorite of mine. Just call me a hopeless romantic. And before you remind me that the current incarnation was written and staged by a Brit, it has been performed just as frequently on the Broadway stage.”

Harry liked what he saw: a tormented villain (or was he the hero?), an eerie quality that was perfect for Halloween, an ominous setting. Best of all, with the addition of his white-tie ensemble, he would only need an opera cape and a mask.

“I like it Hermione,” he proclaimed with a smile, “but the mask is absolutely essential to the character--”

“�”and masks are strictly forbidden by the costume guidelines,” she finished for him. “Don’t you think that Fred and George would have already figured out how to work around that? They have developed a new product that they are calling ‘facial skins’.”

Harry screwed up his face at the name. He was beginning to have second thoughts about this.

“I know the name needs a lot of work, but it’s truly a good description of what it does. Here let me demonstrate,” she explained as she unfolded a bit of gossamer fabric from a small box. She held it up so that Harry could see that it was imprinted with the garish makeup of a circus clown.

Holding the fabric before her eyes in the mirror, she tapped it lightly with her wand. Magically the ‘skin’ fitted itself to the contours of her face so that it looked like she had spent hours applying greasepaint. The most remarkable thing of all was that one could still see enough of her facial features to recognize her, thus neutralizing the headmistress’ concerns about security.

With a flick of her wand, the ‘skin’ was released from her face and floated harmlessly to the floor. She gingerly picked it up and folded it gently into its box.

Harry was convinced. “Can you get me one that will make my face look like it’s wearing that particular mask?” he asked tentatively, pointing to the theatrical program.

“Absolutely,” she assured him. “What are you going to do for a cape, though?”

“Did anyone donate one in the clothing drive?”

“Only if you want to look like a moth-eaten Zorro,” Hermione quipped. “Tell you what, if you trust me to get you just what you need, I’ll get Ginny to place an order from Gladrags Wizard Wear. Delivery guaranteed in three days via owl service.”

“Thanks, Hermione. It won’t be too expensive now, will it?”

“I’ll have it put on my personal account,” Hermione winked. “You can pay me back later.”

With a definite bounce in his step, Harry returned to the workbooks he had left sprawled over the sofa cushions in the tower. It was a sign of his elation that he only stopped once en route to check for Lupin behind the suits of armor on the grand staircase.

---

Hermione caught up with him later that night to remind him that she would need to take some measurements before sending the order off the next day.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she added, “could I get a look at you in your dress robes? I wouldn’t be surprised if they needed a bit of altering.”

Relieved that Ron and Neville were not around to witness this, Harry brought out the black jacket for Hermione to examine.

“Fabric looks good, could do with a bit of brushing, but nothing we can’t handle,” she said appraisingly. “Let’s check for the sleeve length.”

But when Harry put the jacket on, it was obvious to both of them that he had plainly outgrown it.

“Do you think it might be let out a bit?” Harry suggested hopefully. “I hear Ginny can work magic…”

“Only if she can conjure you up another jacket �“ and that’s not allowed,” Hermione countered. “No need to embarrass yourself with the shirt and trousers. Face it, you don’t look like a fourth-year anymore.”

“What will I do for a costume then?” Harry moaned, sinking into the nearest chair.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” she assured him. “Dress robes in good condition can always be traded in. How else do you think people buy second-hand robes?”

“You mean like Ron’s?” Harry asked as he laughed at the memory.

Hermione joined in. “They were pretty lame, but I think the sour look he wore most of the evening was actually worse!”

At the sound of the stone sconce, they composed themselves just in case it turned out to be Ron. But it was only Neville in his customary overalls.

“Pardon me,” he muttered, “didn’t realize you were having a private consultation, Harry.”

“I can work you in after Harry,” Hermione called to Neville jokingly.

Neville peeked around his bedroom door and quipped, “Thanks, Hermione, but I already have my costume lined up thanks to a great idea from Professor Flitwick. You’ll just have to be surprised along with everyone else!”

Hermione motioned for Harry to stand up. “I’m going to have to take a few extra measurements,” she began apologetically as she pulled a tape measure from her pocket and hung it around her neck.

“There is no way I’m letting you take an inside leg measurement,” Harry protested.

“Would you rather I had Ginny do it?” Hermione offered in mock innocence.

“There has to be some other way,” he demanded.

Hermione burst out laughing. “You boys are all alike �“ one look at a tape measure and you turn to jelly. Don’t worry, Ginny taught me how to take measurements magically.”

She summoned a small footstool so that she would stand taller than he. With her wand pointing vertically over Harry’s head, Hermione performed a quick swirling motion. Then she tapped the end of the wand to her notepad to record the measurements neatly. At the top of the page she wrote: Harry.

“All done,” she announced as she slapped her notepad shut.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 14
A Last Minute Reprieve


True to their word, Harry’s new attire arrived three days later. He found the package resting on his pillow when he returned from his lesson with Lupin. Hermione had left him a note to let her know if there were any problems so it was clear she had delivered it personally, but he had no idea how she had levitated it past the barrier.

The fit on the jacket was suitable enough and the trousers were the right length, although somewhat loose in the waistband. The shirtsleeves were a bit short, but pulling them down by the cuffs made them passable. He was determined he was not going to have Ginny poking his body with her wand in plain view of everyone. And the thought of Hermione with her pin cushion was even more off-putting. He would just make do.

He checked that his tie was still in good condition and that he still had his box of white shell studs for the shirtfront. Taking a quick count, he realized that either he had lost a few of the studs, or a longer shirtfront called for more studs than he had originally been allotted. He would have enough if he left the bottom buttonhole open when he tucked in his shirt, but he did not have any for the cuffs.

He stopped by the Costume Office on his way to an early dinner and found that a Ravenclaw girl he did not recognize was busy setting up appointments for both Hermione and Ginny. There was a long queue of students waiting to be assigned a slot.

“Oh, hi, Harry,” the Ravenclaw girl greeted him in a friendly manner. “Hermione said you’d probably be by today. She’s in the middle of a concept meeting right now, but Ginny’s not taking any more appointments today so you can just go right in. Or did you prefer to see Professor Tonks?”

“Ginny’s fine,” Harry replied as he made his way to the far partition. Turning the corner, he found Ginny leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed. He felt like he was intruding and turned to go.

“Is that you, Harry?” she said without opening her eyes.

“How could you possibly know that?” Harry asked.

She smiled languidly and then opened her eyes to look up at him. “You have a particular step,” she replied softly, and then as if she thought he might think her mad, she added, “I must have heard your voice from the next room.”

“Since when do you rate a secretary?” he asked lamely.

“Oh, you mean Melanie? She’s actually Tonks’ assistant, but she loaned her to us when it became evident that we were going to have to parcel out our time more efficiently. She’s been making appointments for Tonks all along.”

Realizing that he was still standing in front of her desk like an awkward first-year, Harry drew one of the chairs to him and straddled it. “So where is Tonks? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“She’s probably helping someone sort through their closet. It’s not unusual for her to help an entire floor in one visit.”

“How does she find the time?” Harry inquired innocently.

“I suspect Lupin is a very understanding man,” Ginny remarked, momentarily surprising Harry with her candor. “So did you get a chance to look over your order?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied as if he’d totally forgotten the purpose of his visit until just now. “Everything fits well enough, but--”

“ ‘Well enough’ just won’t do,” insisted Ginny.

“It’s really just an extra pair of cuff links that I need,” Harry confessed.

“Simple enough. But Hermione will be very displeased if the fit were not absolutely perfect; you know what a stickler she is for details.”

“Ginny, I can’t impose upon your time for a few minor alterations…” He was trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

“Don’t be silly,” she maintained. “Formal dress robes deserve to be fitted by a professional tailor �“ it’s included in the price. You just march yourself over to Gladrags and have them see to it.”

“And just how do you propose that I convince Filch to let me past the school gates to visit Hogsmeade?”

“Haven’t you seen the notices? McGonagall announced that she has cancelled classes on Friday the thirtieth to allow for an extra Hogsmeade visit. Perfect for all those eleventh hour errands. I suspect that I’ll be socked in with last minute first and second years, but I’m sure Hermione will see that you have a good fitting.”

---

The morning of the thirtieth was cold and crisp with a definite bite in the air. Harry folded his new formal attire into his book bag as neatly as possible after first checking for any errant ink bottles. He rushed through breakfast to catch up with Ron and Hermione who were lining up to be checked out by Filch. As the Head of Gryffindor House, Lupin stood nearby double-checking that he had permission slips from everyone who was being passed through.

As they neared the door, the air seemed to grow progressively colder until it was practically painful to draw a deep breath. He was glad that he had brought an extra warm jacket to throw over his jumper. Many students were doubling back to their dormitories for warmer clothing. A scowling Filch checked Harry’s book bag over with his Secrecy Sensor and mumbled something about “more clothing” �“ then he was free.

He could see his breath in front of him now and the grass crunched under his hiking boots, but the fresh air smelled exhilarating. He waved to Lupin who was bundled up in a thick jumper and scarf.

“Will we see you later in the village, Professor?” he called out.

“Absolutely,” Lupin replied with a broad smile. “Madam Rosmerta serves bangers and mash on Fridays!”

Harry set a brisk pace down the inclined meadow that had Ron and Hermione struggling. He turned around briefly to allow them to come abreast of him and noted wryly that they would have less trouble keeping up if Hermione didn’t insist of tucking her hand into Ron’s jacket pocket to keep it warm.

He spied a small figure bundled up in a bright down vest waving to them from the base of the hill. With a start he realized that it was Ginny! Without a second’s hesitation, he trotted down the rest of the way to meet her.

“How did you ever get away?” he breathed.

“Professor McGonagall arranged a special dispensation for me since I’d been working so hard the past few weeks. She had my mum come via Floo early this morning to take over my appointments. I don’t know who was more surprised: me to see my mum or Mum to realize that I had actually put all of those dreadful alteration charms to good use!”

Harry found her carefree laugh totally intoxicating as he joined in.

“I suppose I will have to endure a few ‘I told you so’s’ later, but it will be worth it!” Ginny sighed happily.

Ron and Hermione had caught up by now and Ginny briefly recounted the circumstances of her reprieve for their benefit.

“Professor Hooch offered to take over some of my appointments as well,” Hermione remarked, then added in a knowing whisper, “And I heard that the headmistress herself was going to mind the costume repository so that Tonks could also have some free time.”

“By the way, thanks for the scarf, Hermione,” said Ginny as she fingered the wooly boa that she had wrapped twice around her neck. “It’s just perfect on a day like this.”

Harry noticed for the first time that Hermione was wearing a similar scarf in a more muted color scheme. Catching Ron’s eye, he commented, “You’re awful quiet, Ron. Not wigging out on us are you?”

“Who can get a word in edgewise?” he joked.

After being waylaid by a group of third and fourth years, Hermione agreed to help them �“ albeit briefly �“ with their last minute costume issues.

“Now you realize that today is my day off,” she admonished them with a smile. “I have some preparations of my own to make but I will get you started. Make sure to insist that any needed adjustments be completed right here in Hogsmeade while you wait. You may have to pay a little extra for this. Remember there is no guarantee that we will be able to accommodate you back at Hogwarts.”

Turning briefly to Ginny, she beseeched, “You wouldn’t mind supervising Harry’s fitting, would you? I’ll take care of all the items that we need from Fred and George. Ron should be able to help me carry everything.”

With a quick wave, she allowed herself to be herded down the High Street towards Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and the costume annex. Ron flashed Harry an indulgent smile before following in her wake.

Ginny led Harry doggedly down one of the side lanes to the porticoed door of Gladrags Wizard Wear. In the shadow of the eves, the temperature seemed to have dropped considerably and it was a pleasure just to duck inside the warm store.

With a few practiced flicks of his wand, an elderly wizard completed the necessary adjustments. Harry surmised that the tape measure draped around the wizard’s neck must be just for ceremonial purposes. Looking at his image in the long mirror, Harry concluded that the fit was pretty near perfect. He caught Ginny watching him with an appraising look that he didn’t quite recognize and smiled back at her in the reflection. In a matter of moments, he had picked out some additional shirt studs and the wizard was handing him a large bundle that had been carefully wrapped and tied with a string.

They hurried along through the bracing cold to their next stop, Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, where Ginny located the small parchment note cards that she needed. Errands completed, they started to work their way back down to the main thoroughfare. By mutual agreement, they were going to skip Fred and George’s shop and go to the Three Broomsticks instead. Harry suggested they go around the back way to minimize the risk of being ambushed.

As they neared the end of one of the lanes close to the pub, Harry noticed that the cobblestone streets were practically choked with students. Ginny grabbed him by the arm at the last minute and pulled him back into the shelter of the narrow alley. Directly across from them was the entrance to the Three Broomsticks.

“Looks like they’re holding court, doesn’t it?” Ginny whispered, motioning to the small throng that had gathered around the figures of Lupin and Tonks.

They were too far away to hear any of the conversation, but Tonks’ purple hair was unmistakable as she gestured animatedly. Next to her, Lupin had thrown his head back in laughter. It was such a joyous scene, so different from the tortured glimpses of Tonks and Lupin that Harry remembered from last year, that he couldn’t help but smile.

“How can they honestly think that anyone who sees them together won’t instantly realize what they mean to one anther?” Ginny quietly noted. “I mean, you can just tell by the way they’re standing �“ even though each of them is carrying on a different conversation �“ that not two seconds before they were walking arm in arm.”

Harry was amazed at her powers of observation. “Hagrid says that students are so caught up in their own concerns that they don’t see half of what’s in front of them,” he offered.

“Hagrid shouldn’t generalize so much.”

As she leaned around him for a closer look, Harry was startled to realize that Ginny’s hands were wrapped around his arm in much the same manner that she had just attributed to Tonks. Stepping quickly out of her reach, he intoned in his best Lupin voice, “Have you totally lost your mind? What will people think?”

Ginny giggled and immediately tucked her hands into her vest pockets to hide her embarrassment. Harry started laughing, too, and before long they were leaning against the brick walls of the alleyway to keep from sliding to the ground with sheer mirth.

Startled by a small noise behind him, Harry looked up to find Fred (or was it George?) standing a few feet behind them in the alleyway.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked warily.

“Long enough to realize that you do the worse imitation of Remus Lupin that I have ever seen!”

“If it’s so bad, George, how did you realize it was Lupin?” Ginny pointed out.

George made a small face at Ginny and then said, “I saw you two sneak by when I went to the stock room. The place is an absolute zoo today! Hermione asked me to remind you, Ginny, that you’re having your hair styled at three today.” Message delivered, George Disapparated with a hollow pop.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Ginny declared. “Do you know any short-cuts back to the castle, Harry?”

Having trekked through most of the neighboring woods during his lessons with Lupin, Harry was only too happy to oblige.

---

As Harry and Ginny hiked up the last rise, they could see the spires of Hogwarts castle on the horizon. There was a lengthy queue of returning students waiting to be admitted through the gate by Filch. By the slow rate at which they were advancing, it was clear that he was taking ample time inspecting all of their packages thoroughly.

Nearly half an hour passed and they had barely inched forward. Ron and Hermione drew abreast, clearly short of breath from trying to out-walk those who were still clamoring for extra costuming assistance.

“Oh look, they’re starting a second queue!” Hermione cried as she craned her neck to see.

The tiny figure of Professor Flitwick was making his way down the queue referring to his clipboard at regular intervals. When he spied Hermione and Ginny, he waved them forward, then nodded to the boys to indicate that they should follow as well. As they approached the impromptu station that had been set up on the other side of the gate, Filch looked up from his inspection and cast Flitwick a nasty look. Flitwick smiled indulgently in return.

“Looks like you girls are both down for afternoon appointments,” Flitwick began. Gesturing for them to place their packages on the small table, he quickly went over them with his wand. “No hexes here,” he announced brightly. “Before I let you through, though, the headmistress requested that I do a Patronus check �“ part of the extra security for the Halloween Ball, I’m afraid. I am correct that each of you is able to produce a corporeal Patronus?”

Flitwick motioned them over to the side so that they would have more room. Making sure that he was out of Filch’s range, he whispered, “I guarantee you that this will be much less painful that Mr. Filch’s tactics. I got word that he was threatening to use his Probity Probe to expedite matters.”

“Excuse me, Professor, but isn’t that rather extreme?” Hermione inquired in an urgent whisper. “Who issued him such a device?”

“Claims it was an anonymous Christmas present. Right proud of it he was, too,” confided Flitwick. “He’s been waiting for just the right opportunity for months.”

Ron bent over and spoke directly into Flitwick’s ear. “Doesn’t he know that Probity Probes are manufactured by Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes?”

Flitwick’s eyes grew larger as he muffled a chuckle into a cough. “Is that so?”

“I think I have a catalogue; give me a second,” Ron added as he riffled urgently through his jacket pockets. He pulled out a rumbled flyer and pointed to a line drawing of the Probity Probe.

“Do you think I could borrow this?” Flitwick asked as he darted a quick look to make sure that Filch was otherwise occupied. “Now what was the name of that Quidditch magazine that you boys like so much?”

“You mean Which Broomstick?” Harry offered.

“Exactly!” Flitwick quickly transformed the flyer into an old issue of Which Broomstick and tucked it into the inside pocket of his school robes. “My secret weapon,” he announced softly as he allowed himself a small smile. Raising his voice to a more normal level, he added, “Now for the Patronuses?”

Harry’s mood was such that he instantly produced a silver stag that went cantering around the fence line. Ron’s terrier easily gave chase, barking silently all the way. The sleek otter that Hermione produced actually gamboled right up to Flitwick before scampering off towards the lake.

“Now, my dear, what shape does your Patronus take?” inquired Flitwick turning to Ginny. “The chart only says ‘bird’, but I really need to update that to something more specific.”

“I think it’s a phoenix,” Ginny answered softly as she crouched down to speak more directly to the Professor.

“Could that be?” Flitwick inquired with interest. “I mean now that Dumbledore’s gone, I guess it’s possible. When did you first learn the Patronus Charm?”

“I was a member of the Dumbledore’s Army group during my fourth year,” she answered honestly.

“Of course, I forgot that you were part of the brave resistance front,” Flitwick mused as he motioned her forward. “It won’t be a phoenix then, but why don’t you demonstrate?”

Ginny’s wand began to glow brightly and a winged shape shot out of the tip. Harry could see that it was clearly wreathed in flames.

“Excellent!” Flitwick pronounced as he made some notes on his clipboard. “I can see why you’d be confused with all the flames. That, my dear, was a fire lizard �“ a very rare and very dangerous beast indeed.”

“But aren’t fire lizards a myth?” Ginny inquired anxiously.

“Oh, no; they just inhabit the most remote regions of the planet,” Flitwick assured her. “Practically extinct, they are �“ but not imaginary by any means. It makes my heart glad to see that your Patronus has chosen that particular shape; it proves that fire lizards have not yet died out.”

As they hurried up the inclined lawn to the main doors of the castle, Harry couldn’t help but wonder who had given the Probity Probe to Filch.

“Do you think Umbridge gave it to him?” Ron asked as if he had read Harry’s thoughts.

“Well, he certainly was a fan of her disciplinary methods.”

“I think it was Fred and George,” Ginny announced with conviction. “Tricking Filch into actually using a banned product sounds like just the type of twisted joke that would appeal to them.”

As everyone burst out laughing, Harry couldn’t help thinking that Fred and George were bloody brilliant!

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 15
Transforming the Great Hall


On the morning of the thirty-first, Harry awoke to the sound of mournful wailing. It was barely light outside. Grabbing his glasses from the nightstand, he started to wander out to the common room, then thought better of it and doubled back for his wand.

The embers from the banked fire illuminated the shadowy forms of furniture but not much else. A quick lumos spell ignited his wand tip and then one of the bracketed torches on the far wall. The sound seemed to be coming from the direction of Hermione’s room.

Gingerly he tiptoed around the sofa and narrowly missed a pile of books that had tumbled over from a small side table. He pressed his ear up to Hermione’s door but all seemed quiet. As he was about to turn away the wailing started again, only more loudly. Holding his breath, Harry slowly opened the door without crossing the threshold. Hermione was sound asleep under a mountain of bedclothes.

Turning towards the feeble morning light, he saw that the window was latched and that Crookshanks was pacing impatiently on the outside ledge. The cat’s eyes glowed spectrally as he turned and looked directly at Harry, softly howling in displeasure once more. With a well-aimed alohamora spell, Harry unlatched the window. Crookshanks delicately pushed the window open with his nose and then negotiated the various small puddles that had accumulated on the window sill. Jumping down to the floor, he streaked past Harry’s legs.

It must have started raining sometime in the night, Harry concluded, as he looked out over the somber, grey landscape. Stifling a yawn, he was about to return to bed when saw that it was nearly half past seven. His stomach suddenly reminded him that he had not had a proper supper the night before as the Great Hall had closed early at the request of the Decorating Committee.

Not bothering to wait for anyone else, Harry threw on his clothes and made his way downstairs. He was disappointed to see that the doors to the Great Hall were still firmly shut, although a covey of house-elves was busy arranging great trays of food on temporary tables in the entrance hall. He sat down on the top step of the landing, a spot that gave him a clear view of all the frantic activity without getting in anyone’s way.

Catching sight of him almost immediately, Dobby materialized at his elbow. It was somewhat disorienting to be almost at eye level with the elf’s protruding eyes, Harry thought.

“Welcome, Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby beseeched followed by his customary bow. “Can I get you something special this morning?”

“Not just yet, Dobby, but thanks anyway,” Harry mumbled absently. “How long has the Hall been closed?”

“Since last night, sir; many students, and even a teacher or two, have been toiling to prepare for tonight’s ball.”

“Do you mean to tell me that the Decorating Committee has been at it all night?” Harry inquired in amazement.

Dobby shook his head mournfully, “Most returned to their dormitories before midnight. Only one or two were dedicated enough to work beyond that.”

Slowly one of the Great Doors opened and an exhausted looking Luna Lovegood emerged followed closely by Lupin. Harry was startled to see that Lupin was still in his dressing gown and slippers.

“It’s all right that you called on me �“ after all, I am in charge of Transfigurations,” Lupin spoke in a soothing tone. “It was perhaps a bigger undertaking than a student committee should have attempted on their own… Ah, here comes the headmistress.”

McGonagall was indeed hurrying over from the direction of the far hallway, sticking pins into her bun as she walked. She took Luna gently in tow and turned to usher her towards the Ravenclaw tower. Luna seemed to be saying something in protest, but her words were so soft Harry could not distinguish them.

“Don’t be daft, girl, do you think I got this far without learning how to delegate?” the headmistress replied in a softer approximation of her trademark briskness. “I’m perfectly capable of reading your schematics. Who do you think approved your ideas in the first place? I will make sure that the rest of the committee is put to task once they come down to breakfast. You, on the other hand, are going to get some sleep.” She gazed briefly at her personal hourglass, then continued, “I do not want to see you back here until quiet time ends at four o’clock.”

Harry could see Luna turn as if to object, but the headmistress cut her off, “I know that you think that today’s enforced quiet hours are solely for the younger ones, but I fully expected the older students to have the foresight to lie in a little later this morning. I did not expect any of you to work through the night. Now off you go; I will have Professor Flitwick check to see that my orders are being obeyed, do you understand?”

Harry could no longer keep Luna in sight as she rounded the far corner. He turned his attention once more to the entrance hall where he was disappointed to note that the doors to the Great Hall were closed once again. He was about to offer Lupin a good morning, but was caught short to see the man sitting hunched over the end of the nearest table with his head buried in his hands. Harry’s feeling that he was intruding upon a private moment increased as he watched McGonagall return and place her hand sympathetically on his shoulder.

Lupin looked up at her, his face unmistakably haggard. “I’m really all right, Minerva.”

“You don’t have to put up a front for me, Remus. I know what a strain having to take your potion daily has been putting on you.” Lupin made as if to reply, but she delicately interceded, “It’s hard to deny that the benefits outweigh the side effects, but you have to learn to pace yourself accordingly. Didn’t Poppy say that it would take a number of months for your body to adjust?”

The reference to Poppy Pomfrey, the school nurse, caught Harry by surprise. The Professor was always in such good spirits these days that he had practically forgotten about the werewolf bite that Lupin had sustained as a young child. There was still no cure for lycanthropy despite recent advances that had made it a more manageable condition.

Lupin nodded glumly, looking down at the tabletop as the headmistress continued, “You know how important it is to get proper sleep and nutrition… Oh, I sound just like I did when I was your Head of House. Come,” she offered as she urged him up, “go back and get some more sleep. I’ll have some breakfast sent up to your quarters later. We’ll be able to manage without you this morning, but I expect you back in time to patrol your House during the quiet hours from two to four today. You probably should not count on Neville’s assistance as he was up rather late working on the lighting cues. I expect he’ll be busy coordinating with the maestros this morning as well.”

“I’ll try to convince him to take a nap,” Lupin offered. “If I say it came as a direct order from you, it might work.”

She patted him reassuringly on the arm as she led him to the far staircase. “Do remind Tonks that she’s manning the Costume Office this morning. I don’t want anyone being barred from the ball tonight because they don’t have appropriate attire.”

“I will tell her, Minerva. I know that she was up late helping the boys from Hufflepuff rehearse for tonight.”

McGonagall chuckled briefly, then remarked, “Forgive me, Remus, but I just can’t picture dear Tonks teaching anyone a dance routine.”

“You mean because she can be such a klutz at times? She does go on about the torturous hours that her mother made her spend in dance classes as a child so she must have learned something.”

“Well, at least that explains where she gets her remarkable poise,” McGonagall conceded. “Just let her know that half past nine will be plenty early to open shop today; I expect that most people will have the good sense to sleep in this morning. Now go!”

She relayed some quick orders to one of the house-elves about who was to be admitted into the Great Hall before disappearing inside herself. Harry ducked behind the banister to keep from being discovered. Still feeling a bit guilty about not having made his presence known earlier, he checked that no one was looking in his direction and quickly retraced his steps back to his room as quietly as possible.

Retrieving the Marauder’s Map from his drawer, he spread it out on his bed and activated it with his wand. He knew that he only had a small window of time in which to perform the experiment he had in mind. “Map: show just Professor Lupin,” Harry whispered urgently. No dots appeared on the Map. “Map: show only teachers.” A small moving dot labeled “Nymphadora Tonks” appeared in the corridor outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; it was moving toward the staircase that led to the entrance hall. Another dot labeled “Minerva McGonagall” was seen bustling about the Great Hall.

This was not getting him anywhere, Harry concluded. Desperate for some indication of where the private areas of the castle were to be found, he tried one last option. Having only read about his procedure, he was not certain that it would actually work. Tracing a complicated series of symbols along the map face, he commanded, “Map: show the last position of Professor Lupin.” A blinking dot bearing a tag for Remus Lupin appeared inside Lupin’s office. After watching it for a few moments, Harry concluded that it was not going to move.

Disappointed that the Map had not been able to provide him with much, Harry reluctantly wiped the surface and secreted it back in his desk drawer. No one was stirring in the seventh-year common room yet, but he was able to join a small procession of Gryffindors who were exiting through the portrait of the Fat Lady on the floor below.

---

Harry caught up with Ron later in the morning as he was coming down to breakfast. Ron suggested they spend a few carefree hours flying around the Quidditch pitch, maybe even strike up an impromptu skirmish with some like-minded individuals.

But before they had time to retrieve their brooms, the large front doors opened to admit the dripping form of Hagrid. He had come to inform the headmistress that the conditions were too wet for the bonfire that had been planned for tonight’s festivities. McGonagall wasted no time in ushering him into the Great Hall, all the while informing him that they could otherwise employ his talents.

Staring dolefully at the huge puddles from Hagrid’s footprints, the boys quickly decided that perhaps the day called for indoor activities instead. They passed Hermione working her way down the stairs amid a gaggle of younger girls. She was on her way to the Great Hall to review her lighting cues with Neville. She assured Ron that he had assisted them enough last night and needn’t accompany her today; she would just fill him in on the details later. Harry barely had time to notice that her hair had been styled in blonde ringlets before she disappeared in the crowd.

Back in their common room, Ron offered to break out his stash of butterbeers. One glance through the windows at the rain lashed sky made them decide to summon some hot cocoa instead.

“Do you think Ginny might want to join us?” suggested Harry hopefully.

“I think she said something about coordinating props with Neville.”

“What does Neville have that we don’t?” Harry pined dramatically.

Ron chuckled, but then added in a more serious tone, “It’s those announcer fellows that McGonagall lined up that they really want to meet.”

Harry had a sudden inspiration when he realized that the two of them were pretty much going to have the room to themselves. “Ron, what say we have an impromptu dueling match? Not with swords--” Harry laughed at Ron’s improvised antics. “�”with wands. Like we did briefly in second year. I need to prepare for Lupin’s lessons and, well, Ginny hasn’t had much free time lately.”

“You’re telling me,” Ron commiserated. “I thought I was never going to get her and Mum away from the Costume Office yesterday afternoon so that we could have some family time together!”

“How is your mum?” inquired Harry, remembering his manners.

“She’s fine. Still can’t figure out what to do with Fleur half the time, yet I know she’ll miss her if Fleur ends up taking that flat in the city that she keeps talking about. And all the wedding plans are in complete limbo from day to day, don’t even get her started on that.”

“Sounds like you were able to have a nice long chat then,” Harry observed.

“Not really, she was anxious about making sure she was home before Dad �“ even though she knows that the Ministry keeps him later and later every day. Too bad I couldn’t have invited them to the ball, though. After all those years Dad spent in the Muggle Artifacts office, can you imagine him having to come up with a Muggle costume? He’d have so many different ideas he could never narrow it down to just one.”

“How about an airline pilot with a little toy airplane?” Harry suggested recalling Mr. Weasley’s fervent desire to learn how aircraft stayed in the air.

“Just as long as he didn’t show up as one of those plugs or batteries that have him so enthralled!”

They bandied crazier and crazier notions back and forth for a while. It seemed to help them get into the rhythm of sparring �“ in between bouts of laughter. They appropriated most of the furniture cushions for the middle of the floor and then made themselves a clear area. Admittedly, they were rather clumsy at first, but soon got the hang of it. Harry was surprised at the inventiveness of Ron’s spell casting; it seemed like he employed the simplest incantations in novel ways �“ with rather unexpected results.

Luckily, they were able to find charms to repair most of the damage except for a few cracked fireplace bricks that they swept into the grate. The swaying of the hanging lamps subsided long before the others returned to the room. Harry concluded that he was going to have to find another place to practice with Ginny or the headmistress would have his head for destroying Gryffindor Tower.

As the quiet hour of two o’clock drew near, they could hear the heavy steps of fellow Gryffindors who were being systematically herded into their dorms below. Hermione and Neville were ushered in by Lupin himself who looked much more rested in his full Head of House regalia.

“I have the headmistress’ orders that quiet time is to be strictly observed until four o’clock at the earliest. The Prefects have been assigned to make sure that the younger students are all lying silently in their beds. With the high level of excitement, how many will actually be able to nap remains to be seen, but that was certainly the headmistress’ intention by setting aside quiet time today. I will expect everyone to remain within their common rooms at the very least.” Lupin took a moment to look at them each in turn, concluding with Neville. “As for Neville, you have direct orders from the headmistress and that does not include checking in on the younger ones. For the remainder of the afternoon, do not think of yourself as Head Boy �“ those duties have been assigned to me temporarily.”

Reluctantly, Neville excused himself to his bed chamber and closed the door.

With his trademark grin, Lupin turned to the others and whispered, “That being said, I hear from Professor Flitwick that one of your sideboards has been converted into a magical ice box. Is that not true, Ronald?”

Hermione looked rather surprised when Ron solemnly nodded his head.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Lupin urged in an undertone. “Let’s break out the butterbeer. I believe if you pull that velvet cord to the left of the fireplace �“ that’s the one, Hermione �“ we can get some sandwiches brought up. The headmistress is having the house-elves set up food in all the common rooms and you certainly don’t want to be overlooked.”

Harry obliged by placing a muffliato spell on Neville’s door so that he could rest undisturbed.

“I may need you to teach me that one if I need to keep the younger ones quiet,” Lupin admitted after taking a long swallow of butterbeer. “Now, tell me, how well can you hear noises from the rooms below?”

Harry admitted that the most you could distinguish was the tromping of footsteps on the stairs outside.

“What about those Extendable Ears that Fred and George designed?” Ron offered happily.

“I’ve got one better,” Hermione interceded with a mischievous grin. “A brand-new product that is just begging to be tested. Let me go set it up. Now I’m going to need some of your feedback for my report…” she trailed off as she rummaged through the shopping bag from Dervish and Banges.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 16
Costume Check


Harry purposely waited until Ron and Hermione left in order to begin his preparations for the evening. Neville made an uncharacteristically snide remark about Hermione having a bad case of the jitters, although he diplomatically waited until her footsteps had died away to do so. Harry laughed heartily as he allowed that Neville had hit the mark once again.

“That kind of jumpiness may enhance her costume,” observed Harry sardonically, “but it totally interferes with my peace of mind when I’m trying to get dressed.”

Neville admitted that he still had a few last minute details that needed his attention downstairs. With a dramatic swirl of his dark school robes, he exited through the stone sconce. His costume, or lack thereof, perplexed Harry momentarily. Neville seemed to be wearing ordinary street clothing! Remembering that there was usually much more to Neville than met the eye, he expected to be pleasantly surprised later.

Harry began the laborious process of donning formal attire while his mind was going over the character that he had researched. His amateurish attempts at facial expressions in the mirror were abandoned. His portrayal of the tortured persona that he had selected would have to come from deeper within. If his conversations with Hermione had taught him anything, it was that the key to success was to become a true embodiment of the character.

He tentatively tried on the black opera cape and examined his reflection critically. The cape swirled just like the ones that the Durmstrang students had worn so majestically to the Yule Ball. Leave it to Hermione to remember that detail, Harry thought wryly. The pure white of the lining was sure to contrast starkly and magnificently with the blackness of his coat and trousers.

He heard the sound of scraping stone as if from miles away and slowly brought his thoughts back to the moment.

“Are you decent?” Neville called from near the entrance. “Ginny has a special delivery for you!”

Harry leaned out into the common room to give the all clear signal but was suddenly caught short. Neville was nowhere to be seen and Ginny was standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. Her hair had been styled into a hundred tiny braids and she was wearing some sort of stretchy coverall that reminded Harry of children’s one-piece pajamas. Her hesitant manner only enhanced the illusion that she was a small, lost child.

“You need a Paddington Bear to go with that,” Harry offered, wishing he could have come up with something better to say.

She screwed up her face briefly, and even though she no longer looked so childlike, Harry still had to admit she looked adorable. On closer examination, it was evident that she had also donned some very un-childlike false eyelashes and theatrical pancake make-up.

“Nobody gets my outfit! Trust me, it will all make sense when we get downstairs…” She trailed off as she got a good look at Harry.

He did a small flourish with the cape and smiled. He could feel her eyes slowly drinking in every detail of his costume, but for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

“I brought you…I mean…Mr. Edward sent…by owl…” She finally just lowered the bundle to the nearest chair. “I’m never going to be able to get past that barrier,” she whispered, wetting her lips nervously.

It had been a number of years since he had seen Ginny at a loss for words and Harry was not exactly sure how to proceed. He settled for the direct approach and just walked out to meet her.

“You have something for me,” he patiently urged her. “The package…”

She shook her head slightly before answering, allowing just enough time for Harry to notice the copper sheen glinting from her dancing braids. “Shoes,” she said firmly. “Mr. Edward from Gladrags sent you shoes to complete your outfit.” She held out the package to him.

“What is it that so intrigues you about my costume, Ginny?” he asked gamely. Perhaps if he kept talking the butterflies in his stomach would settle.

“Hermione fretted so much about it, I didn’t know what to expect,” she began hesitantly. “You know how she is, Harry, she does a bit of research and suddenly she’s an expert on the subject…”

“I doubt an experienced salesperson would have been so easily taken in.”

“You really haven’t seen her around adults lately, she had Mr. Edward convinced that she was his long lost daughter. I think she may have talked him out of one of the suits that he wore in his youth.”

“Well, then I will make sure that she charges me for second-hand robes,” Harry quipped. “Now, Ginny, if you don’t get out of here, I'm never going to get finished.”

“Sorry, Harry,” she uttered, jumping up quickly. At the exit, she turned briefly and asked, “I’ll see you downstairs then?” She gave him a small beseeching look and was gone.

---

Harry carefully made his way down the long staircase to the entrance hall. He had secured his school robes over his costume but the extra layers were beginning to chafe under his chin. If it got too uncomfortable, he decided that he would doff it once inside the Great Hall.

It was still a bit early and the stairs had not yet become choked with students, although those that were about all seemed to be wearing their school robes buttoned up to their chins. He caught the glint of water from the entrance hall and realized that it must still be raining outside. The traffic was steadily increasing as he neared the ground floor, but it was difficult to see any details as the entire area was shrouded in an unnatural fog. He was reasonably sure that it was George Weasley who was waving to him from the foot of the stairs.

“Still under wraps, I see,” George offered in greeting as he clapped Harry genially on the back. He was wearing the lime green dragon-skin jacket that Harry remembered but had added a facial skin in a deeper green and some bolts to his neck. It was a reasonable imitation of Frankenstein’s monster. “Didn’t have a lot of time to get myself together �“ much too busy getting all the costumes out to the kiddies.”

George seemed to be in a particularly jovial mood as he waved his wand feebly to get the fog to clear a bit. Suddenly Harry could see that the entire entrance hall was flooded!

George beamed proudly. “The return of the Portable Swamp �“ by special request of the headmistress. Your chariot awaits.”

Harry stepped into a tiny dinghy together with four or five other students and was effortlessly ferried across to the massive doors of the Great Hall. As a test, he tossed a handful of stale Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into the murky water. One of the giggly girls who was still in the process of disembarking gasped loudly as a huge black tentacle quickly snatched the unexpected treasure. Harry waved his appreciation to George on the far horizon.

A witch wearing a sparkly skeleton suit under a voluminous violet cape motioned to him. The lining of her cape glittered with multi-colored sequins as she checked him over with her wand. When she demanded, “Costume check,” in a familiar throaty voice, Harry recognized that it was Professor Sinistra, their astronomy teacher. He smiled as he lifted the hem of his school robes just enough to show her the fancy dress beneath. She waved for the oversized doors to creak open to admit him into the Great Hall.

One look around and Harry could see why the Decorating Committee had needed extra assistance from the resident experts. Somehow the dimensions had been extended until it was no longer a room as such; he felt as if he had been transported into the midst of an ancient land. This was not some moonlit glen embraced by a circle of oaks �“ this was a wild unkempt land, stark despite the slender twisted trees that seemed to fade into the misty distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw indistinct black shapes among the narrow branches but they flickered out of sight whenever he tried to look at them directly.

He spied Ron and Ginny talking softly in the corner and joined them.

“Did you happen to notice what the weather was like outside before you left the common room, Harry?” Ron asked.

“I could hear raindrops spattering hard against the window at times, must mean that the wind has…” Harry’s voice died in his throat when he noticed that Ron was pointing ominously at the ceiling.

He looked up, fully expecting the foul weather to be mirrored on the ceiling as always �“ the lashing rain couldn’t have been more ideal for All Hallow’s Eve, especially if one was safe and dry inside a castle. Only in this instance, the sky above was the deep purple of congealed blood, clear except for a few wraithlike clouds. The large orange moon was still a few hours from its zenith but was already tinting the nearby clouds with strange and disturbing hues.

“Can you image how difficult it must have been to alter a spell like that?” Ginny asked in an awed whisper.

“That one just about did me in,” Lupin’s voice chuckled from behind them. He was wrapped tightly in a red cape that managed to cover him to below the knees. Harry was surprised to see that the man was wearing sandals.

“Now I, personally, think that the table decorations were particularly inspired,” Lupin observed.

Harry examined the closest small table that had been draped in tattered black cloth, the fabric so light that it fluttered like bats wings every time someone walked by. The twisted iron candelabra with black candles was practically a cliché, but it was the collection of objects in the middle that seemed to draw his attention. Despite their apparent randomness �“ each table had a different assortment �“ there was a sinister quality about them that was practically palatable.

“Almost feels as if they’ve been cursed, doesn’t it?” Lupin asked conversationally.

“Is that how it was done?” Ginny inquired tentatively, not daring to actually touch the objects.

Ron inhaled sharply when Lupin reached out to examine a cracked and dusty laboratory flask. “Absolutely ordinary materials,” intoned Lupin softly, “gathered from rubbish piles and dustbins and maybe an occasional junk shop. I thought Luna mad when she had Hagrid drag a box of this stuff from his cabin last night… Notice the careful placement of each article, how each fits into the sinister tableau. It’s a transformation I could not have accomplished with a dozen wands at my disposal.”

“Luna did this all by herself?” Harry asked incredulously.

“The rest of the committee helped with the cloths and the candles �“ especially in the creation of the tatters. It took them hours to round up all the scraps. But in the end, it was Luna who arranged the objects on each table personally.”

Fred Weasley arrived wearing the most unique costume yet: he was totally headless and his facial features had somehow been grafted onto the large pumpkin under his arm. Even though Harry’s brain kept telling him that it was just a clever illusion, it was difficult to decide weather to address the empty space on Fred’s shoulders or the talking pumpkin.

Finally, Harry decided to just compliment him on the great costume.

“Thanks,” Fred replied. “Pretty disconcerting, isn’t it? I wasn’t sure that I would have it ready in time �“ turned out to be a lot harder to reconfigure the Headless Hat and then to sort of morph it with the facial skins…Well, you get the general idea. Luckily, I wasn’t as swamped at the Diagon Alley store and was able to delegate… Yo, Hermione, I took your advice and went to the library, see? The Muggles issued me a library card and everything.”

Hermione looked him up and down appreciatively. “Pretty clever, you should sell a ton of those outfits.” Briefly glancing around at the other revelers that were rapidly filling the room, she added, “Let me guess, you located the American history section, right?”

Harry’s cursory review of the newest arrivals confirmed Hermione’s observation. He found Betsy Ross with her half-stitched flag, Paul Revere juggling two brass lanterns from hand to hand, and a white haired bloke in Napoleonic garb that must be George Washington.

“Did you get a look at the new enhanced Portable Swamp we installed in the entrance hall?” Fred asked excitedly.

George arrived at his elbow and added, “By special order of the headmistress, no less.”

“Always knew she had a soft spot for us. Say, Bro, did you manage to ferry all the kiddies past the swamp monsters?”

“Flitwick came over and offered to relieve me for awhile,” George answered.

“You two didn’t bill the headmistress for the swamp, did you?” whispered Hermione in a mortified tone.

“Of course not,” Fred assured her.

“With as many costume sales you and Ginny have, umm, what’s the word?”

“Faciliated. It was the least we could do--”

“�”especially considering the weather pretty much shelved the fireworks display we’d planned--”

“�”still having problems with the dancing skeletons, you know.”

Tonks leaned over and whispered something to Hermione who immediately jumped up and scurried away. Tonks, too, was cocooned in her old school robes, only she had opted to transform hers into an emerald green shade. A detail that almost got her disqualified, she confessed, had the headmistress not interceded on her behalf.

Every minute there were more and more costumed students arriving until Harry was certain that the entire school was in attendance. Had the hall not been magically extended, there would probably not have been room for everyone. In addition to Filch who was glumly stationed near the Great Doors, Harry noted a number of dark figures standing guard throughout the room. Each of them was positioned on a small raised platform to allow them to survey the crowd.

As his eyes adjusted to the lower level of lighting around the perimeter, he recognized that the closest figure was none other than Mad-Eye Moody. Only he wasn’t wearing his customary tweed coat. Instead, he was wearing some sort of costume that consisted of two radically different outfits that had been sewn together in the middle. Cradled in the arm that was wearing an old fashioned frock coat was a large book with the glowing title: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

He turned around to compliment Hermione on the concept, but remembered that she had been called away.

“Actually, I get credit for that one,” he was surprised to hear Ginny announce. He had not realized that she had followed him. “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has always been a particular favorite of mine. Mum used to read it to us at bedtime when we were little. Don’t you remember, Ron?”

“I don’t get the costume, Ginny,” replied Ron as he shaded his eyes to get a better look. “I always thought Jekyll and Hyde were twins…”

“Well, Mum liked to paraphrase a bit,” Ginny returned. “Said it was an object lesson.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 17
A Night at the Opera


There was a sound like that of an orchestra leader tapping his baton and suddenly the spotlights were focused on the far end of the room. What Harry had assumed to be the silhouette of an escarpment turned out to be a stage that looked like it had been hewn out of rock. Broad steps led down to the floor level. It appeared that the presentation of the costumes was about to begin. They joined Fred and George at a table that afforded them an unhindered view of the stage without being in the path of the spotlights.

Hermione came bursting out from the wings and whispered to Lupin who was standing nearby, “They’re about ready to start. Are you sure that you want to go first, Professor?”

“Absolutely, I can’t enjoy myself having to hold this cape shut. Are you going to follow?” he inquired of Tonks.

“I’ll go in the next group,” she demurred. “I want to get the full effect of your entrance from the floor.” Tonks went to sit with Ginny and was soon joined by Hermione.

Professor McGonagall, dressed in a classic interpretation of Lady Liberty, was going from table to table to recruit others to queue up behind Lupin. A rustic iron banister had been set up along one side of the stone steps to allow even those waiting in the wings a complete view of the stage.

The maestro tapped his baton once and then raised his arms to begin. Only there wasn’t any orchestra at all, just him and the music stand. From the back of the room, his colleague prepared to direct the lighting in much the same way. As the last of the conversations died down, the lighting maestro pointed his wand sharply toward the stage and plunged the room into darkness.

A slow ripple of music began as the announcer intoned, “Live from Hogwarts, we present the first ever Halloween Costume Ball! All those wishing to be presented in the first group please queue up stage left.”

With a grand musical flourish, the lights rose slowly on the stage. Little by little, the red cloaked figure of Lupin was revealed standing with his back to the audience.

“Just returned from his campaign to conquer Britannia, we present Commander Romulus of the Praetorian Guard!”

With a majestic swirl of red, Lupin unsheathed his flat sword and brandished it high in the air. “TO GRYFFINDOR!” was the battle cry as a large segment of the crowd erupted in cheering and applause. He was resplendent in full battle regalia, his leather armor studded with red and gold. The audience hushed as he swept his gaze slowly across the back of the room, a raptor surveying the horizon. Followed by the spotlight, he purposefully made his way down the broad stone steps and strode directly to the table where Harry and company were sitting. He stood before them solemnly for a number of heartbeats before sheathing his sword and taking the seat next to Tonks.

The applause eventually died down and Harry supposed other costumes must have been presented, but at their table Lupin was the star attraction.

“How did I do?” Lupin whispered to Tonks loudly enough that it was clear that the entire table was included. Everyone offered their compliments and handshakes, telling him that he was going to be a tough act to follow.

Tonks finally composed herself enough to utter, “Well, I must say, Remus, you did the uniform proud.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to find it and I was determined to wear it well,” he replied magnanimously.

At the insistence of Ginny and Hermione, he stood up so that they could examine his attire more closely. He demonstrated how the leather strips that made up the armored skirt were laced together horizontally to allow for ease of movement and to keep it from flying open in wind. “Still, there’s a dark fabric tunic underneath to provide for modesty,” he explained.

Lupin excused himself to get them some punch, but was immediately waylaid at the next table by a host of new admirers.

“I’d better get us some butterbeers,” offered Fred genially.

“�”or we’ll die of thirst before Remus makes it through the gauntlet,” George finished.

Harry and Ron offered to help but the twins insisted that they would get this round.

“Wherever did you find the Roman gear?” Hermione asked Tonks, eager for more details before Lupin returned.

“It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “I was practically in despair when that nice old wizard at Gladrags put me in contact with an old �“ and I do mean old �“ friend of his that used to run the Swansea Light Opera Company. The costume mistress was quite helpful as they hadn’t staged Julius Caesar in over a decade. It seemed a shame to leave the wonderful helmet behind, but the costume guidelines didn’t allow for it.”

Hermione agreed that she would alert Lupin when their turns were coming up so Tonks joined the next group in queue, followed closely by Ginny and Harry. They chatted amicably about how high the bar had been set and before they knew it, their turns had arrived.

Tonks boldly stepped backstage as Neville motioned her forward. Almost immediately the sound of metal crashing upon metal could be heard from the wings. The students in queue behind Harry started to giggle.

Ginny turned to Harry and confided, “I don’t think she was expecting Lupin to deliver such a strong opening and it’s made her a bit nervous. She’ll be fine once she gets into character.”

Another musical fanfare began and the cloth of the backdrop was aglow in vibrant sunset shades. Standing rakishly on a large trunk, the figure of Tonks was revealed in silhouette. She threw her shoulders back in defiance as the lights rose to reveal her as Peter Pan. Effortlessly she jumped to the ground and tossed a handful of glittery dust into the air. As the sparkling motes slowly settled to the ground, a tiny luminescent butterfly fluttered from within their midst to settle on the nearest tree branch. Tonks bounded down the steps and practically leapt into her chair.

From his vantage point on the stairs, Harry could see that Lupin had returned to their table and was toasting everyone with billowing mugs of punch. Hermione caught Harry’s eye and darted over with a bottle of butterbeer and some last minute whispered instructions. He nodded that he understood and patted his jacket pocket to assure her that he had the facial skin ready.

The maestro struck up a cheery tune that seemed vaguely familiar as Ginny skipped out of the wings wearing a jaunty white hat over her sprightly braids. Her suit took on a strange glow and then abruptly, Ginny’s head and feet were still there but there was no torso and legs in between. There was an appreciative murmur from the audience. As she danced from one part of the stage to another, the contours of her body seemed to waver slightly as her suit shifted into another mode.

For the first time, Harry heard the words to the chorus clearly and realized they were singing about a cosmic chameleon, no, karma chameleon, whatever that was �“ and then suddenly, he understood! Ginny’s suit kept shifting to camouflage her according to her surroundings. As she skipped to the bottom of the stairs, a large image of the record album of the same name was superimposed on the backdrop.

As Ginny rejoined the others at the table, Harry could faintly hear Tonks exclaiming how that had been her favorite music album the year she started at Hogwarts.

The butterflies in his stomach had begun to do back-flips by the time Neville called Harry backstage. He ascended the last steps as a condemned man going to the gallows.

The backstage area was much larger that it had seemed from the queue, a phenomenon of wizard space that never ceased to amaze Harry. The school robes were being collected by Melanie from the Costume Office who was decked out as a glittering butterfly. Harry indicated to Neville that he was going to need a few extra minutes to complete his preparations.

“Take all the time you need,” Neville generously replied. “We’re not keeping to a strict timetable here. Any smalls breaks will just allow people extra time to mingle and get some refreshments.”

A long mirror had been fastened to the back wall to allow for final wardrobe adjustments and Harry used it to attach the facial skin. He nearly dropped his wand in his nervousness and was glad he had practiced the procedure in his room. Sliding his glasses back on, he surveyed the results in the mirror. It really did look like he was wearing the white contoured mask that left only a small portion of his face uncovered, yet he was still recognizable.

Neville removed a blood red rosebud from a small vase on the prop table and handed it to Harry. “Hermione had me bring this from Professor Sprout’s special hot house. The thorns have already been stripped.” He referred to a small card before continuing, “A few instructions about the lighting. You will be going out onto a dark stage; stand on the small glowing ‘x’. All the lights are being generated by the maestros’ wands so you will actually feel the molecules tingle on your skin, beginning at your ankles. The most dramatic effect is achieved if you wait until the lights have fully risen before you initiate any movements �“ wait until you feel the tingle on your eyelids. Just cue me when you're ready to begin.”

Harry took a few deep breaths and delved deeply into his psyche. This was no different than producing a Patronus, he told himself, if was just fueled by a different set of emotions. As his mind flitted through the kaleidoscope of his past experiences, he searched for that singular moment that would allow him to feel his character’s pain. He discarded images of Sirius falling through the veil and Dumbledore’s body tumbling from the Astronomy Tower �“ they made him feel too helpless. The anguished moment that he had brought Cedric Diggory’s dead body back through the Portkey came close, but those feelings were inextricably mixed with relief at having escaped his own death. It was the smallest of moments that he selected in the end: that of Ginny turning to him wistfully before leaving the common room earlier that evening.

As an extra precaution, he temporarily entrusted Neville with his wand before walking out onto the dark stage and turning his back to the audience. He felt his heartbeat slowing as he recalled the tortured feeling of Ginny’s fascination with his costume, the cold fear he felt deep inside that someone would be evil enough to use her against him.

The first chords of the Phantom overture resonated through the hall as he felt the tingle reach his eyelids, then his forehead, and then the very ends of his hair. He focused on the memory of her parting look and added her whispering, “What’s wrong?” to start the process. The enormity of his reply to that simple query engulfed him and he let its power pour forth. He turned to face the audience with the hem of his cloak held high overhead and the music reverberating in his soul. With deliberate slowness, he let the cape fall and then reached into his pocket for the rose. His measured tread held threatening overtones as he walked towards the cavernous opening where he knew the audience was waiting.

So this was the moment of truth, Harry thought, as he searched the ocean of faces before him through eyes that were so much more than his own. He located Ginny’s upturned face and bringing the rose to his lips, he watched it as it left his fingertips. The spotlight caught its arc through the air and illuminated Ginny’s startled face as she caught it. It seemed only fitting as she had provided his inspiration. He let the smallest smile play along his lips before descending the steps.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting at the table surrounded by faces that were all speaking at once. He ran his hands through his unruly hair and was surprised to feel that they were trembling.

But before Harry’s heart rate had returned to a normal level, everyone’s attention was suddenly diverted to the main doors. The towering figure of Rubeus Hagrid was framed in the archway dressed in the trademark checkered flannels of Paul Bunyan, a huge ax hanging from his belt. He bent at the waist to whisper to Professor McGonagall. She motioned to the maestros that the next entrance was going to take place from the back of the room. Everyone readjusted their chairs as the headmistress’ wand cleared a path through the tables to the stage.

As the drum roll started, the diminutive figure of Professor Flitwick entered leading a sprightly mount. With a start, Harry realized that it was Buckbeak with his wings folded neatly at his sides. Astride his shimmering grey back was Luna Lovegood with her entire body wrapped in the extra long tresses of her wig. When they reached the edge of the stage, the hippogriff balked at ascending the broad stone steps. Instead, Flitwick led him around in a circle so that Luna could slide off gracefully to thunderous applause.

Luna walked over and whispered something to Hermione, at which point the two of them plus Ron took their places in the queue. Hagrid finished leading the skittish hippogriff back out through the main doors and the costume presentations continued.

Soon it was Ron’s and Hermione’s turn. Across a dimly lit stage, a ghostly rabbit came bounding down the steps, then dissolved like so much white smoke. As the lights came up, Hermione entered in search of something but seemed to lose her way. She was wearing a starched white pinafore and holding Lupin’s large gold pocket watch in her hand. As she turned towards the back of the stage, the lights rose on high-backed chair. She made to sit on the chair, but it shrunk magically to a fraction of its size. She jumped aside and it grew so tall that she was dwarfed next to it. Leaving the chair behind, she turned to the other side of the stage as the lights revealed Ron’s lanky frame stretched out on a low rock. He was wearing a striped coverall much like Ginny’s, but with a lashing tail and a hood. His facial skin continued the pattern of stripes on his face and added whiskers and a large toothy grin. The edges of his body shimmered slightly and the stripes began to slowly fade until there was nothing left but the smile. Hermione pantomimed a gasp as she looked to the spot where Ron had been. The lights went dark.

Lupin turned to Ginny and whispered something of which only the words “Luna” and “Patronus” were audible to Harry. Ginny nodded in reply as they were joined by Ron and Hermione who had just descended the steps. Luna returned from backstage through the queuing area and sat down next to Harry.

Up close, Harry would see that she was actually wearing a flesh-toned bodysuit and that the hair somehow magically adhered to her body so that it remained discreetly draped no matter how she moved. Every once in a while, he would catch glimpses through the strands that revealed the flash of sequined fig leaves.

The maestro announced that there would be a small intermission while the last of the contestants prepared for the final round of presentations. Harry took the opportunity to wander around the room as he made his way to the refreshments. Not everyone had chosen to go through the presentation process, so there were very few school robes left to be seen.

In the distance, Harry could see Tonks laughing and capering from one group to the next just like Peter Pan. Lupin had really captured her alter ego when he selected the costume. Too bad she didn’t have Captain Hook as a foil, Harry thought; but then decided there was really only one teacher that could have inhabited a role of such notorious villainy �“ and the least said about him the better!

He passed Kingsley Shacklebolt dressed like a genie and waved hello. Shacklebolt smiled and nodded curtly, but it was clear that he was on guard duty much as Moody had been. The Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis, had found a good angle for their photography mania and were posing as tourists in bright Hawaiian shirts, baggy shorts and sandals. Dennis had even gone as far as to wear a child’s inner tube around the middle, complete with inflatable animal head and tail.

At the refreshment table, Harry encountered Professor Slughorn who had been promoted to Head of Slytherin House this year. He was in the persona of a sultan with richly embroidered fabrics encasing his portly physique and multiple rings on his fingers.

“Harry, my boy,” Slughord greeted him warmly, “I have not seen you all year! You must come by and visit. You shouldn’t let Lupin monopolize all of your time.”

“Nice to see you, too, Professor,” Harry stammered in reply.

“Can I interest you in something to quench your thirst?” he offered as he indicated the large array on the table.

Harry looking skeptically at the various offerings. In a large cauldron, a sinister-looking brew was billowing white smoke over the sides. Another bowl held a turquoise blue concoction that actually had candied fish swimming through it. In the center of the table, a small fountain was pouring forth a cranberry hued liquid that might have been appealing had it not been for the small spiders and sugared eyeballs that were mixed in.

“Are any of these potions that we prepared in your class, Professor?” Harry asked pointedly.

Slughorn laughed heartily and assured Harry that they were simple preparations of fruit juices and carbonated beverages. Harry settled on the spiced apple cider studded with cinnamon sticks as the safest alternative.

“Where’s your adventurous spirit?” Slughorn intoned. “Everything has been duly tested by house-elves.”

“I wouldn’t let Hermione overhear you saying that, Horace,” Lupin countered as he leaned over and helped himself to the billowing brew. Then turning to Harry, he added more softly, “That was quite a performance you gave up there. Neville just returned your wand, by the way. It’s not a good idea to be without it during these uncertain times.”

Harry thanked him as he pocketed the wand, then added, “Speaking of performances, that wasn’t really Godric Gryffindor’s sword that you brandished, was it?”

“Just a stage prop, although a very nicely fashioned one,” replied Lupin. “The genuine article is still in its locked case. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have to make a few official circuits of the room. Wouldn’t want the headmistress to think I was shirking my duties by enjoying myself too much tonight.”

Harry turned his attention back to the refreshment table to see if anything else struck his fancy. He immediately ruled out the finger sandwiches as just too realistic with their little foil rings bearing candied jewels. Nor did the platter of writhing gummy snakes hold much appeal. The fanged bowl with the large wooden stake through the middle of it had to be garlic dip for the potato crisps, he noted. He selected a chocolate cupcake that was decorated with horns and a red pitchfork.

“The devil’s food cake is very good,” said a familiar voice at his elbow. He hadn’t seen Ginny walk up, but in that chameleon suit, it didn’t surprise him. Clearly, the twins had found some ingenious way to incorporate a Disillusionment Charm into the fabric.

“How many people have you been spying on tonight?” Harry replied as he turned toward her.

“Not many,” she returned with a small shrug, “but it’s early yet!”

He laughed as he swallowed the last of the cupcake. As she leaned over for a handful of crisps, he noticed that she had woven the stem of the rose through her hatband. Such a simple detail and, suddenly, it was as if the room was devoid of oxygen.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 18
The Bewitching Hour


Tonks pranced over to them with the annoucement that her group from Hufflepuff was coming up soon. She waved to Lupin as the three of them passed close by, but he was once again surrounded by a mob.

Tonks was practically bouncing in her seat when the chorus from Hufflepuff took to the stage. As the lights rose from left to right, each of them turned to face the audience in turn. Harry counted seven boys and each was dressed in various combinations of a kilt (the louder, the better, it seemed) and other articles of clothing that clashed with it as much as possible. The laugher kept growing and growing as each outfit was revealed. There was the one wearing Eskimo mukluks and a parka, followed by the one in a red sequined top, followed by the one in a fringed rodeo shirt �“ with still more sequins. In the end, it was the one wearing the coconut bikini top and a huge flower lei that Harry unofficially anointed as the winner.

But it didn’t stop there. Before the laughter had even begun to die down, the music started and the boys linked arms and started to dance and shimmy their way in unison down the broad steps, each movement mimicking a familiar dance routine from musical theatre reviews. Harry was not the only one wiping tears of mirth from his eyes by the time they were done.

Lupin finally had to take a goodly number of deep breaths before he was able to turn to Tonks and remark, “Did anyone remember to call The Times Drama Desk?”

“And just why would that be, Remus?” Tonks prompted gleefully.

“Someone needs to warm them that there isn’t anyone to meet them at Hogsmeade Station!”

Harry immediately visualized the hapless critic arriving at the gates to the heavily warded castle and seeing only a crumbling ruin. He completed the picture by rendering the individual as a supercilious hack, like a Muggle counterpart to Rita Skeeter from The Daily Prophet, and a driving rainstorm.

“Where were you able to get than many kilts?” inquired Fred of Tonks while George was still recovering.

“I contacted all sorts of people about donating old clothes for the Costume Office. The kilts came from Alastor Moody.”

Professor Flitwick, wearing a red peaked hat that instantly reminded Harry of a ceramic garden gnome, ascended the bottom step of the stage and was immediately framed in an iris spotlight. Pointing his wand at his throat to amplify his voice, he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen and esteemed judges, I present Neville Longbottom as this year’s front-runner for the presidential nomination!”

The lights rose on a stage bare except for a podium decked out in red, white and blue bunting and an American flag on a stand in the background. Professor Flitwick started clapping and urged everyone to follow suit. At the precise peak of the applause, Neville strode out from the wings with both arms outstretched and surveyed the crowd before taking his place behind the podium. As far as Harry could tell, his costume consisted solely of a dark business suit and an oversized cowboy hat. Neville tapped the improvised microphone with the tip of his finger and the maestros provided the reverberating echo.

“Aw shucks,” Neville intoned in a Texas drawl, “all these people came just to see me?” He cleared his throat nervously, then hunched over the microphone unnecessarily. “My fellow Americans, I want you all to know, to hear it from the horse’s mouth, that my opponent is Satan incarnate. Beelzebub made flesh! Vote for me �“ I’m only the anti-Christ!” Unbuttoning his jacket with deliberate slowness, he added with a wicked grin, “I hope you all brought yer checkbooks.” As he turned to wave to all segments of the room, his jacket fell open and it was totally empty! No shirt, no tie, no chest, no nothing! Most disconcerting of all was that as he made his way down the broad steps, shaking hands left and right, even his hands seemed to dissolve. As he reached the floor, he removed his hat with a mighty wave to the crowd and his facial features faded away until they were nothing but a translucent shadow of himself. The crowd responded with a collective gasp.

A few extra moments were allowed for the candidate to work the room and then Neville raced up the stairs to assume his duties backstage.

One of the maestros took over and announced, “As the last presentation of the evening, it is our great pleasure to bring you the official sponsor of tonight’s festivities: our own Rolanda Hooch in the role of a lifetime!” With a long fanfare, the lights rose slowly to unveil the professor in a classic damsel’s dress, bodice half untied. She was draped across the bronzed and muscled arms of a young man with a rakish smile and long wind-blown tresses. As they held their positions, a large roll of parchment unfurled down the stage steps to read: The Pirate’s Pillage by Danielle Cartwright.

As the audience erupted in applause and whistles (mostly aided by Fred and George), Tonks leaned over towards Harry and whispered, “Oooh, it’s just like those Daydream Charms you bought me as a gag!”

“You have it all wrong,” Lupin returned, “it’s a--” At which point, Hermione clapped both hands to her mouth and urgently shook her head 'no'. Catching her eye, Lupin lowered his voice so that the others at the table had to lean in to hear, “It’s a bodice-ripper!”

Hermione shook her head in mock defeat as the rest of the table broke up with laughter all over again. Still laughing, Harry hazarded a look in the direction of the judges’ table that had been set up in the back of the room. They were busy huddling and whispering among themselves, oblivious to the audience. He identified Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, by her green surgical scrubs and face mask dangling from her neck. Madam Pince, the petite librarian, was dressed in an elaborate feathered outfit, strangely reminiscent of a large tawny owl. Harry was surprised that the third judge was none other than Professor Trelawney wearing her usual eclectic layers of scarves and beads but also leaning on a silver shopping trolley filled with assorted items from a junk heap.

“I don’t get Professor Trelawney’s costume,” Harry commented to the table in general.

Hermione replied in a confidential undertone, “We had the hardest time finding something that was agreeable for her as well as Madam Pince. I thought the Lady Liberty costume was ideal for Professor Trelawney, being the welcoming symbol in New York harbor.”

Ginny took over. “But she claimed that we were dead wrong. Said that during her recent visit �“ as if she’s left this school in sixteen years �“ the official welcoming committee for New York City consisted of bag ladies.”

“Well, at least Tonks didn’t have to help her assemble an outfit!” Ron quipped to much laughter.

“But it gets better,” offered Tonks in the same conspiratorial tone, “Irma Pince decides she’s always wanted to dress as Margaret Thatcher.”

“Did anyone remind her that old Maggie was tall and broad shouldered--” began Fred.

“Rather like a rugby player?” finished George.

Hermione resumed the narrative with, “As an alternative, she suggested Queen Victoria, which would have suited her perfectly �“ except that it didn’t exactly satisfy the guideline about using American themes.”

As the gesticulations among the judges started getting more frantic, it was clear that they just could not agree. The headmistress was called over as a referee. Presently, Professor McGonagall turned to the anxious faces of the audience and raised her hands for attention.

“The judges and I have reached a consensus,” her magically enhanced voice announced as behind her the three judges tore their notes into little pieces and threw them into the air. “We will decide on some method of awarding house points tomorrow; all Heads of Houses and other teachers are encouraged to provide suggestions. Maestros, I believe we have arrived at the dance portion of tonight’s festivities!”

With an elaborate flourish of her wand, the tables were magically arranged along the far portion of the Hall to allow for a generous space for dancing near the stage area. The lighting was changed to roaming spots over the dance floor as the maestros struck up a lively tune.

Professor Hooch and her escort took to the center floor in an elaborate dance, full of whirls and complicated steps.

Harry leaned over to Ginny and asked, “Who is that dancing with Professor Hooch? I’ve never seen him before.”

“That’s only because you didn’t come to Quidditch tryouts,” she explained. “He’s the Professor’s new assistant, Simon Stevens. He helps with equipment, oversees practices, and does a bit of back-up refereeing as needed. Might even be on broomstick duty with the first years, but I’m not entirely certain about that.”

“All the girls have the biggest crush on him,” Ron teased. “Don’t they, Ginny?”

“I certainly hope you’re not referring to me,” she retorted in a lofty tone.

“Well, you have to admit that a lot of girls seem to be anxious to start conversations with him whenever he’s around,” Hermione commented.

“I don’t know why they’d bother,” replied Ginny. “He hardly ever says anything to anybody.”

More couples were filling the dance floor, but the professor and Mr. Stevens were still the central attraction.

Professor McGonagall swept over to their table and leaned in to comment, “I remember that dance from my younger days: it’s called the tarantella.” She had placed one of her hands on Harry’s shoulder for balance and now stroked the suit fabric appreciatively. “That’s a very nice jacket, Harry. Is it vintage? You can always tell by the smallest hint of cashmere in the fabric.”

“You’ll have to ask Hermione, Professor,” Harry replied, a bit embarrassed by the undue attention. “She was the one who picked it out.”

“Excellent taste, my dear.” The headmistress nodded to Hermione. Then addressing Tonks, she added, “By the way, Tonks, that was a most inspired bit of choreography you taught those boys; right out of Gilbert and Sullivan.”

McGonagall had whisked off to the next table by the time Tonks whispered to Lupin, “I told you someone would get it.”

As the ‘witching hour of midnight drew nigh, there were quite a few sleepy heads that had to be gently escorted to their dormitories by the President-elect, Lady Godiva, or the Praetorian Guard. Ginny and Tonks were beseeched into joining a group of Hufflepuff boys in a dance that consisted of mainly jumping up and down on the dance floor.

Left momentarily alone at the table, Harry went in search of refreshments. He passed Fred and George who were in a lively discussion with one of the kilted lads. From the portion he was able to overhear, they were ironing out a deal to have their new skeleton fireworks dance the same musical routine as the Hufflepuff group. He noticed Luna at one of the far tables engaged in deep conversation with Robert, who Harry recognized from Tonks’ class. Neville was dancing with Melanie in a corner of the dance floor, totally oblivious to those around him as well as to the tempo of the music.

As he passed the iron banister where they had queued earlier, Harry noticed a bit of movement in the shadows at the top of the stairs. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light, then rested his foot silently on the lower step to gain a better look. He was shocked to see the stark white of Hermione’s pinafore and the swishing tail of Ron’s catsuit, but the rest of their bodies were so entwined it was impossible to see where one ended and the other began.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Professor Lupin standing right behind him. Quietly, Lupin murmured, “I believe that has been a long time in coming.” He flicked his wand towards Ron and Herimone and plunged their silhouettes into deeper shadow. “Come, Harry. I don’t really need my pocket watch back right this moment.”

The rest of the night became a blur as Harry danced with Luna, Ginny and even Tonks at one point. He was surprised to see how many of the older girls were bold enough to entreat Mr. Stevens to dance with them. Lupin took turns with the headmistress and Professor Hooch before lingering over a long, slow number with Tonks.

It was long past midnight when Harry made his farewells, but Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 19
Just Like Family


It seemed that the entire school was slow in waking the following morning. The discarded school robes were piled at the end of each House table awaiting their owners’ retrieval in the Great Hall. Harry was groggily shifting through the pile when Ginny came up right behind him and startled him.

“How do you manage to do that �“ even without the chameleon suit?” he asked, smiling in spite of himself.

“Just one of the survival skills I had to hone in a house full of brothers,” she remarked with a small shrug. “Got any big plans for the day?”

Her forthrightness always caught him off guard, but Harry managed to not sound like a total idiot when he admitted that his schedule was wide open.

To his delight, she offered, “I think it’s time for that dueling match I promised you.”

They discussed the details as they companionably consumed their breakfast, Harry detailing the problems that he and Ron had experienced with projectiles.

“Oh, I found a charm for that,” Ginny volunteered gamely. “We’ll just have to limit ourselves to a more confrontational style until we get a chance to practice outside.”

They passed Neville on the stairs outside of the stone sconce and he informed them in a sleepy voice that Ron and Hermione had just left to join Professor Hooch. Once inside the common room, Ginny quickly cast the repelling charm that would contain their spells within a certain circumference. Having cleared some space in the middle of the floor, they paced off.

On the count of ten, Harry spun around to hit Ginny with a disarming spell only to find that she wasn’t standing where he had expected. From a crouching position, she immediately knocked him off his feet with a well-placed stupefying charm. The next round, she allowed him to think his impediment jinx was successful and when he approached, she hit him with a leg locker curse that dropped him like a stone.

Determined to maintain his concentration in the following round, Harry barely had time to block her from summoning the wand right out of his hand only to find that her real objective was to hex his knees into buckling beneath him. He pretended that the spell had hit squarely, instead of just marginally, as he rolled over onto this stomach. Casting a tickling charm back at her, he watched with satisfaction as she collapsed on the nearest cushion.

Ginny was still laughing weakly when Harry’s numbness finally eased and he limped over to see if she was all right. She was still breathing heavily from the exertion of all that laughter. As he drew near, the tiniest flash in her eyes alerted him that she was laying a trap. He hesitated long enough for her to become overconfident and then spun out of the way just in time, dodging immediately behind a stray armchair to hit her with a full body bind.

The shock was apparent on her face as she stood glued to the spot. Panting heavily, Harry laid his wand on the table next to Ginny to indicate a ceasefire. He unhurriedly pulled two bottles of cold butterbeer from Ron’s stash and sat down on the sofa. Deciding to turn the tables on her, he leisurely retrieved his wand and cast finite wordlessly to unfreeze her body followed immediately by a swift accio to pull the wand from her fingers. He miscalculated on the last one and her wand spun harmlessly across the room instead.

Freed from her standing position, she gratefully collapsed on the nearest cushion as Harry handed her a cold butterbeer.

“That went better than I thought,” Ginny commented after she had gulped half of the contents of the bottle. “Still, I think we need to practice somewhere that will allow us to really let loose. A real life opponent is not likely to observe polite rules, if you know what I mean.”

Harry made his way to the nearest window to check on the weather conditions outside only to find that yesterday’s rain had changed to ice.

“It won’t be today.” He sighed wearily as he surveyed the sodden grounds. If it hadn’t been so breezy, the ice crystals might have formed shimmering icicles on the tree branches. But as it was, they were more likely to feel like stinging knives on any uncovered parts of the body.

He returned to where Ginny was seated and plopped down on a nearby cushion. “Say, Ginny, what was the name of the dance that Professor Hooch did last night?”

“The one that McGonagall remembered from her glory days? I think it was the tarantella. Why all the sudden interest?” she asked skeptically.

“I think I remember someone using a hex with a very similar name on Neville; it kept his legs moving continuously like he was tap dancing wildly.”

“Was he any good?” Ginny inquired as she raised her eyebrows in an appraising look.

“Are you kidding? He looked like someone had tied his shoelaces together!”

“Maybe that’s the secret,” Ginny quipped, barely able to get the words out between her laughter. “First you tie his shoelaces, then hit him with this dancing hex, and he’ll tie himself into a knot right at your feet!”

When they finally came up for air, Harry decided it was time to change the subject. “Speaking of dancing, did you see all those girls that couldn’t wait to ask Mr. Stevens for a dance?”

Ginny nodded solemnly. “I think Susan Bones was one of them; but couldn’t tell for sure from across the room. I don’t know why that should surprise you, though, they did much the same thing at the Yule Ball.”

“I don’t remember Stevens from the Yule Ball,” Harry joked.

“Not him, silly. At the Yule Ball, it was Severus Snape.”

Harry was rendered totally speechless �“ the absolute last person he could image as a dance partner was Snape! Ginny must have seen the shocked look on his face as she started to giggle.

“I guess you really don’t remember. It may have been after you left.”

Harry scoured his brain for the memory that must be there but to no avail. He remembered Dumbledore and McGonagall joining the champions and their dates during the opening dance. Later when he was attempting to keep a sulky Ron company, he vaguely recalled seeing Snape ask McGonagall for a dance -- but that was just part of the expected protocol.

“Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of a dare?” Harry postulated.

“It may very well have started that way; but mark my words, he left the first girl breathless. After her girlfriends saw how masterfully he’d swirled her in and out of the other couples on the dance floor, they all wanted to have a dance themselves.”

“I just can’t imagine anyone wanting to socialize with Snape…”

“Who said anything about socializing? He maintained the same disdainful expression as always �“ but he made everyone else on that dance floor look like a clumsy amateur by comparison.”

“How can you recall all those details so many years later?” Harry’s curiosity was piqued.

“Because to this day, I regret not screwing up my courage and asking him for a dance myself. He was that exceptional!”

Harry was truly at a loss for words. Sensing this, Ginny implored, “Please don’t repeat that, Harry �“ not even to Hermione. She was probably too wrapped up in Viktor to notice what anyone else was up to that night. It’s like trying to explain Remus being mobbed last night to someone who wasn’t there.”

“So now you’re telling me you thought Lupin looked manly in his centurion garb?” Harry observed with a low laugh. “And since when do you call him by his first name, anyway?”

“I’ve always called him by his first name, he’s an old family friend. I just don’t do it in front of outsiders.” At Harry’s surprised expression, she elaborated, “How many times have you spent Christmas with the family, Harry? And in all those years, wasn’t Remus there as well?”

“I just assumed it was after he had been our teacher…” Harry stammered.

“Actually, I think you have it backwards. You started spending Christmas with us after Remus’ first stint at Hogwarts, but Remus was spending Christmas with us long before that.”

Harry felt suddenly like his whole world was tilting. In an effort to put things in perspective, he entreated, “Do you mean to tell me that when Ron chose to sit in the same compartment with Lupin on the Hogwarts Express, they were not the strangers that they pretended to be?”

“Yes. And if he’d acted any differently, it would have undermined Remus’ authority as a teacher. You know how Remus is about social protocols. Ron and I were both very conscious of how much that job meant to him. We would never have expected him to treat us with any favoritism, either.” Ginny took a quick look around before lowering her voice to a mere whisper, “As a matter of fact �“ and you have to promise you will never tell a soul, not even Ron knows this �“ my parents almost named Remus as my godfather when I was born!”

“Are you serious? He’s never said anything--”

“�”that’s because Mum and Dad never got around to actually asking him. It was so soon after the death of your parents �“ they were his best friends, you know �“ that it seemed like too much of a burden to place on Remus’ shoulders. He lost everything in that moment just like you did, Harry.”

“What about Lupin’s parents?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

Ginny shrugged. “I’ve always had the impression that he was a late baby, so his parents were not so young anymore. I think they passed away not long after he finished his schooling.”

“They weren’t killed by--”

“No, no, I’m almost certain it was natural causes.”

Harry glanced around and was surprised to see Hermione climbing noiselessly through the stone sconce. Suspecting that Ginny’s shield also rebounded sound waves, he hastily located his wand and cast a finite spell in the general direction of the ceiling. Ginny caught on immediately, and between the two of them, they were able to neutralize the protective barrier.

“Sorry about that, Hermione, we were just trying to practice dueling without having every stray spell threaten to bring down the tower,” Harry explained.

“Looks like that spell would come in handy if you wanted a bit of privacy, too,” Hermione commented with a knowing glance as she continued to shake the ice crystals from her hat and scarf.

“Not really,” Ginny replied with a slight note of defiance, “the first time anyone gets near the barrier, it will burst just like a soap bubble. Not to mention that the shield imparts a rather unpleasant zap to the person that shatters it.”

“So where did you go off to this morning, Hermione?” Harry inquired in an attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Oh, I went with Professor Hooch to visit her sister in Teabury Crossing, a little village not far from here. She goes there periodically to have her hair done at her sister’s beauty shop. It was an ideal opportunity for me as there’s a cyber-café right next door. I couldn’t wait to e-mail my cousin all about last night.”

“I can’t believe you went out in weather like this,” Ginny remarked.

“Didn’t know when else I would get the opportunity otherwise,” Hermione offered. “Besides, the worst part was just getting down to the gates, after that we could just Apparate to Professor Hooch’s cottage �“ it’s just on the other side of Hogsmeade �“ and then it’s just a short drive. Has Ron come back yet?”

“I thought he was with you,” Harry said with a shrug.

“He was a bit put off by the sleet, so he opted to help the Creevey brothers develop their photos today. Professor Slughorn had turned one of the potion laboratories into a makeshift dark room and they were having a great time sloshing developing fluids everywhere when I left them. If you can imagine it, Slughorn was perched on top of the tables in the main classroom, stringing clothesline from one end of the room to the other. He made them promise to remove the dripping photographs as soon as they dried so the room was put back to normal before class tomorrow.”

Ron arrived close to suppertime bearing telltale splashes of variously colored solutions all over his clothing. “Man, was that fun!” he rhapsodized. “Did you realize that Muggles have this magical paper that absorbs the image directly from the camera? Then when you wash it in a special potion, the image is coaxed to the top of the paper so it can be seen.”

“Is that not the same way in which magical moving photos are developed?” posed Harry.

“Apparently not,” Hermione answered. “Slughorn insisted from the start that Dennis and Colin use only manual photo equipment and traditional black and white film so that they could do all the work themselves. The headmistress agreed that none of those devices would be affected by the magical currents within the castle, so it was just one more way to stay true to the spirit of the event. I’m just sorry none of the photos were ready in time for me to upload them to my cousin.”

“How did the photos turn out, Ron?” Harry inquired.

“Absolutely brilliant!” Ron gushed. “They even got the most incredible pose out of Filch! They’ll have the bulk of them up by tomorrow; McGonagall said they could use the entire wall where Umbridge posted her infamous educational decrees.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.



Chapter 20
Souvenirs and Conspiracies


Harry left for breakfast early the next morning so that he would have time to check out the photographs on his way to his appointment with Lupin. He found Dennis scrambling up and down a ladder in the main hall while Melanie and Colin assembled the photos into little black frames and handed them to him. Dennis was using his wand to attach the frames magically to the wall so the noise was being kept to a minimum.

Although they had a fair portion of one wall completed, the large table was strewn with photographs from which they were still making their selections. Dennis indicated that he would be grateful if Harry assisted them by choosing some of his favorites, so he pulled up a chair and started going through the stacks of photos.

If anything, Ron’s assessment of the quality of the photographs failed to do them justice. Even though they were not moving wizard photos, the still shots seemed to have captured many of their subjects in that one singular moment that distilled their essence perfectly. There was Lupin rallying the troops on behalf of Godric Gryffindor. Melanie mentioned that they had already hung a close-up of that pose so realistic that it was as if you could actually see his throat moving.

Harry could almost smell the mothballs from the old-fashioned suit and wide cravat that had made up Filch’s costume. Somehow the man had been coaxed to pose with a large shovel held in his right hand and a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else. The effect was that he looked like a macabre undertaker right out of a horror movie. No wonder Ron had said it was brilliant!

There was Professor Sprout dressed as a rotund Snow White dancing with Professor Flitwick, whose pointed cap reached only to her shoulder. Perhaps he had not been dressed as a garden gnome after all, Harry thought; but then looking closely, he noticed that Snow White was wearing a tool belt hung with garden implements. Give Flitwick credit for a bit of clever word-play, Harry concluded.

The hearty Viking, complete with horned helm, was none other than Reggie Smithwick, their ancient Runes teacher. Holding a huge mug of billowing punch aloft, he was toasting something or someone that was outside of the frame.

But his unqualified favorite had to be the photo of Mad-Eye Moody being forcibly restrained by Kingsley Shacklebolt. From the angle at which it had been taken, you could see that the absolutely murderous look on Moody’s face was due to the high-kicking antics of the Hufflepuff boys in the background.

Harry waved the photo aloft to indicate he had found his favorite. Colin admitted that he was particularly proud of having been in the proper spot at the proper time for that one. Harry took the opportunity to inquire if there had been any photos of Ginny, or maybe even Fred as the Headless Horseman.

Sadly, Colin shook his head. “We didn’t have much success with those, I’m afraid. Anything that involved a magical illusion, even some of the facial skins, did not successfully translate onto film. All we got was an explosion of blinding white where the light rays were being manipulated to fool the eye.”

Dennis scurried over and added, “But we haven’t totally given up on those yet, Harry. Professor Slughorn offered to assist us with some more advanced developing techniques that might yet salvage some of those shots. Although, we probably should have taken them with a polarizing filter in the first place.”

“Check back later in the week,” suggested Melanie to Harry. “This is just the first batch.”

Realizing that the time of his appointment with Professor Lupin was drawing dangerously close, Harry gathered his book bag and made to rise from the table. He was stopped about half-way down the hall by Professor McGonagall who motioned him over.

“Am I correct in assuming that you’re on your way to meet with Professor Lupin?” she asked briskly.

“A bit late, actually,” Harry noted sheepishly.

“Well, I won’t keep you but a minute,” she assured him. Handing him a large brown envelope bearing the Professor’s name on it, she entreated, “Please take this to him directly. And Harry, please tell him that regardless of his initial inclination to start deducting house points, remind him that this was placed directly into my hands by those responsible. Do you think you can remember the message?”

Harry repeated it back to make sure and when she gave him a satisfied nod, he took the stairs two at a time to Lupin’s office.

Lupin looked up from the parchment rolls that he was grading when Harry collapsed into the other chair. Putting the essays aside, he walked over to the side table, poured a glass of water, and silently handed it to Harry who was still out of breath. He perched on the end of his desk and waited patiently for Harry to finish gulping the water.

When Harry finally looked up, Lupin remarked, “You should know by now that I’m not going to set you lines for being a few minutes late. So, what’s got you so--”

Wordlessly, Harry handed him the envelope. Lupin was about to break the seal when Harry remembered the message from the headmistress. He repeated it carefully to make sure that he had it right.

Lupin’s playful mood evaporated as he walked solemnly to the other side of the desk and sat down. Then with great deliberation, he broke the seal on the envelope and extracted a single photograph. Lupin stared at the photograph for a very long time, moving his eyes over every detail. His face was unreadable.

“Can you tell me exactly what the headmistress’ words were again, Harry?” he asked softly as he closed the door to the outside corridor. Lupin considered those words very carefully before coming to a decision. “Take a look for yourself,” he offered as he slid the photograph across the desk.

Harry could feel Lupin pacing as he reached out for the photograph, fearful that it might burn his fingers in the process.

He was not prepared for the intensity of the image before him. This was not just a photograph of Lupin and Tonks taking a turn on the dance floor; it was as if the music had stopped and they had continued to dance, totally oblivious to anything around them. The sheer immensity of way they just looked at each other spoke volumes. If anyone were crass enough to misread those feelings, there encircling Lupin’s bicep was the silver cuff whose intricate design mirrored that on the delicate wrist that Tonks was resting on his shoulder.

Harry returned the photograph to the desk, unsure how he should respond. Looking up, he saw that Lupin had stopped pacing and was leaning against the bookshelf studying him very shrewdly.

“Tell me, Harry, were the rest of the photographs that good?”

“Yes.” He was about to elaborate about some of the funnier ones to help lighten the mood when there came a discrete knock on the door.

With the reflexes of a cheetah, Lupin leapt into his seat behind the desk and turned the photograph over in one swift motion. In the next heartbeat, he was bidding the visitor “enter” as he took a deep breath. Only the slightest quivering of Lupin's nostrils betrayed his true state of mind, Harry noticed.

The door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall. “I trust Mr. Potter brought you the envelope,” she inquired tentatively.

“He did.”

“Now, Remus, promise you won’t get angry. Colin brought it directly to me before anyone else got a chance to see it. He assured me that it was one of the first that were developed and--”

“It’s really all right, Minerva.” He’s lying, Harry suddenly surmised, even though Lupin’s control had not slipped an inch. In an offhanded manner, Lupin continued, “I was just asking Harry here if the rest of the photographs were of the same quality.” The slightest edge of insincerity confirmed Harry’s earlier assessment.

“For the most part,” she replied warily. She’s not really fooled, either, Harry concluded. “Oh, for goodness sakes, Remus, he even gave you the negative!”

McGonagall stepped deftly into the room and shook the large envelope over the desk until a small glassine envelope fell out. She held it up so Lupin could see that it contained a small square of film.

“But I actually came up here to ask you about something else,” she began. “Mr. Potter, would you shut the door, please… Yes, you can stay.”

Harry felt like he was watching a tennis match between two evenly matched opponents.

“Forgive me, Minerva, I’m forgetting my manners. Why don’t I get you a chair?” Lupin offered, returning to his customary civil tone. With a flick of his wand, he drew a chair from across the room for the headmistress.

She adjusted her skirts majestically, totally in control of the situation once more. “I assume you left this for Miss Granger earlier today?”

She pulled out another photograph that showed Tonks, Ginny and Hermione deep in conversation at one of the small tables. It must have been before Ginny activated the chameleon effects as she looked like she was wearing an ordinary jumpsuit. Affixed to the bottom edge of the photo was a yellow sticky note with the caption: The Morai.

“I’m sorry, Minerva, I just couldn’t resist. They had only started with the photos when I went down to breakfast. Colin showed me this one because he thought they looked like they were planning to overthrow Parliament or something. Hermione wasn’t offended, was she?”

“Frankly, Remus, I wasn’t sure what to think at first. From outside the Costume Office, all I heard was a small squeal followed by silence. It was only once I barged through the door that I found Hermione laughing silently in her chair. She finally showed me this.”

“Begging your pardon, Headmistress, but Hermione reacts that way when something totally unexpected strikes her as terribly funny,” Harry offered tentatively.

“So this behavior is familiar to you?” McGonagall inquired pointedly.

“Yeah, only she doesn’t react that way very often,” replied Harry, “and it’s usually over a joke that Ron and I don’t get.”

“You mean like this one,” surmised Lupin. “The Moirai is just another name for the Fates in ancient Greek mythology, Harry. They were often depicted as three old ladies quarreling over the destinies of mankind.”

“Kind of like the Costume Office?” Harry concluded, smiling wider the more he thought about it.

“Now, Remus,” continued McGonagall, clearing her throat. “About the note. It really doesn’t do to leave Muggle artifacts where just anyone can find them.” She glanced pointedly at Lupin’s well-worn appointment calendar; there were little bits of yellow poking out from among the pages. “You know how rabid Filch can be about such things and I would hate to have to be the one to spoil your fun.”

Lupin nodded as he tucked the leather bound calendar into his top desk drawer.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters that need my attention,” she announced. With a quick flick of her wand she summoned the photo of the threesome and added Lupin’s words as a printed caption. “I believe this one is destined for my office,” she confided with a wink to Harry.

Pausing at the door, she turned back to Lupin and volunteered, “And Remus, about the other photograph. Take it home to Tonks, I’m sure she will like it very much.” Harry was surprised by the look of unabashed affection that she gave Lupin before she softly closed the door behind her.

From behind his desk, Lupin shook his head in his hands ruefully. “That woman makes me feel like I’m an errant schoolboy all over again,” he admitted.

She certainly knew how to get you out of your mood, Harry thought to himself as he replied, “I thought for a minute she was going to give you detention.”

Lupin looked up and admitted, “I thought so, too!” as they both broke out in laughter.

“Professor,” Harry began hesitantly, “I have some ideas that I’d like to discuss with you.”

“All right.”

“Seems to me that we’ve been learning all these spells -- but you realize that I would never be able to use any of them against Voldemort.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because his wand and mine share a common core that prevents us from dueling one another,” Harry explained. Then in detail, he recounted the events of the night that he had faced Voldemort in the Riddle graveyard and the effects of the Priori Incantatem phenomenon.

Clearly, this was all new information to Lupin and he took a few moments to digest it.

“You had no trouble dueling with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries,” Lupin noted.

“No, I wouldn’t have, though. I have one of only two wands that was made with a phoenix feather core; Voldemort has the other. Mr. Ollivander explained this to me when he sold me my wand before I came to Hogwarts. He indicated that the feathers were actually donated by the same bird.”

“So, the spells will only clash if your wand tries to cast them against Voldemort’s wand,” Lupin summarized. “I see.”

“Well, that’s just it,” Harry continued as he dived into the heart of the issue that had been worrying him. “Selling me that wand was a pretty good safeguard that I wouldn’t be able to dispatch Voldemort �“ at least, not by any simple means. So, what if Mr. Ollivander did this on purpose? What if he’s really a Death Eater?”

“So you think that Ollivander disappeared and abandoned his Diagon Alley shop because he’s joined ranks with Voldemort? There are certainly others who have voiced a similar concern….”

“There’s been no word of Mr. Ollivander, then?”

“Nothing.”

“I think I’d like to purchase another wand,” Harry announced with conviction. “A different type of wand.”

“You do realize, Harry, that once your wands no longer clash, Voldemort himself will have a much easier time dispatching you as well.” The intensity in Lupin’s eyes emphasized his words.

Harry gulped involuntarily, then roguishly added, “What’s to say he wouldn’t have found an expedient alternative anyway? This way, at least I have a chance.”

“I see you’ve thought this through quite thoroughly,” Lupin acknowledged with the ghost of a satisfied smile. “If nothing else, an extra wand will serve you as a back-up just in case �“ just in case of anything.”

“Will I be able to find another suitable wand? I remember Mr. Ollivander saying that the wand chooses the wizard.”

Lupin considered briefly before answering, “Well, that’s true to some extent; but wizards replace lost and broken wands all the time, so it can’t be that impossible a task. I think you’ve hit upon an excellent plan. What say we make a little side-trip to Dervish & Banges?”

“Today?” Harry practically jumped up from his chair in excitement.

“Unfortunately not,” Lupin replied after taking a quick look out his window. “The weather conditions are just too miserable. But tell you what, I will relay your concerns to the headmistress. Assuming that she concurs with my assessment �“ and I’m sure she will �“ we’ll go as soon as the weather permits.”

Lupin’s encouraging words acted like a tonic and Harry was in exceptionally good spirits for the remainder of the day. For once, his concerns had not been trivialized or ignored.

His dreams were haunted by the image of Mr. Ollivander saying to him, “You-Know-Who did great and terrible things.” Ollivander’s tone had been mysterious enough the first time around; but in Harry’s nightmares, those same words assumed a darker meaning.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 21
Dueling Partners

The end of the week approached and there was still no word from Lupin. As he passed the giant hourglasses that recorded the House Points on the way to breakfast, Harry noted that a large number of sparkling gems had been deposited into the lower chambers, although the glittering cache of emeralds was noticeably larger than all the rest. Slytherin’s solidarity indeed, but did it also signify a darker portent?

Harry didn’t need an exact count to know that there were fewer gaps at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall than at any of the other three. If Voldemort’s supporters felt that the world was soon to be theirs, they would have no qualms about sending even their youngest to school. After all, the scandalous events that had capped the previous school year had been perpetrated by Death Eaters. Was the fact that only one Slytherin student had returned for a seventh year an indication that others had chosen to follow in Draco’s footsteps? He forcibly stopped himself from falling into thought patterns that bordered on prejudice. To tell the truth, seventh year students were virtually extinct for all Houses -- and not all Slytherins were necessarily supporters of Voldemort.

By the time he reached the entrance hall, Harry found that there was a crowd of students surrounding the walls where the photos from Halloween had been posted. Even from a distance, he could see that rows of neatly framed documents had been added parallel to the doorway. He was joined by Ron and Ginny before he was close enough to see anything.

A cursory review of the first column indicated that these were the requisite House Points that had been awarded to each of the committee chairmen, with lesser points being awarded to each committee member that was listed beneath. He was gratified to see that Neville had been awarded fifty points for his masterful work with the lighting and props, but there were no surprises there.

Turning his attention to the second column, he noted that the surrounding crowd was thicker and liberally punctuated with squeals, cheers and much hugging. Apparently these were the special awards that had been made by the teachers to judge by the different signatures at the bottom of each. Flitwick had named the boys from Hufflepuff as the Best Musical Revue. Lupin had recognized Luna Lovegood for the Most Creative Use of the Patronus Charm. Slughorn had signaled out Neville Longbottom as Best Political Satire.

Jostled by the crowd, Harry had to strain to read the awards that continued for a third column.

“We should have found us a cushy spot on the staircase, mate,” Ron confided in a rather loud whisper. “Used your Omnioculars.”

Harry gave him a crooked smile in agreement.

The long hours that the Ravenclaw group had expended to transform the Greal Hall were recognized by Hagrid with a special Knight Owl commendation. From Professor Vector, Slytherin House was noted for having each and every member involved in the Refreshment Committee. That explained all the emeralds, Harry mused. Professor Sinistra commended Hufflepuff House for one humdred percent participation in the costume contest. Signed in her trademark purple ink, Tonks acknowledged Colin and Dennis Creevey for Photographic Excellence.

Ginny grabbed Harry by the arm and pointed to the frame at the top of the column. She had already started jumping up and down before he finished reading that Professor Sprout had credited Ginny Weasley with the Best Costuming Design for the Jekyll and Hyde Concept. Harry turned to give her a congratulatory hug only to find that she had already been engulfed in a sea of well-wishers. He settled for giving her a quick pat on the shoulder and a whispered word before working his way to the edge of the crowd.

He saw that Hermione was standing in the doorway of the nearby Costume Office watching him intently. With a tilt of her head, she motioned for him to join her inside.

“You really should have turned around and looked one last time,” she said very softly.

“Why? So I could see who else was congratulating her? NO, THANK YOU!” Harry barely refrained from sweeping the entire surface of the desk onto the floor and settled for tossing his book bag into the nearest chair instead. Good thing he wasn’t carrying any ink bottles today, he thought dryly.

“Just so you know, she was watching your back the whole time.” Hermione’s voice was no more than a whisper. “I know it’s none of my business.” She raised her hands in mock defeat.

Harry waited until his heartbeat settled down before prodding, “Is that why you called me in here?” His voice still had more of an edge than he intended.

“Colin brought this for you,” Hermione answered as she handed Harry a white cardboard photo envelope. She started to say something else then thought better of it. The noise of the boisterous crowd erupted from the doorway as she silently let herself out.

Harry stared at the white rectangle of the envelope against the brown wood of the desktop for what seemed like hours. He couldn’t bring himself to look inside. Remembering that Ginny sometimes used this office also, he tucked the unopened envelope into his book bag and made to leave the room.

A flash of movement from the window caught his eye as he spied Hedwig trying to get his attention through the glass. He opened the window to let her onto his outstretched arm. Stroking the soft feathers of her head made him feel infinitely better but she was impatient to return to the sunny weather outside. Dropping the small roll of parchment onto the nearest desktop, she took flight once more.

He slipped the bit of twine off the parchment and unrolled it gently. It was an official notification from the headmistress that five points had been awarded to Gryffindor on his behalf for participating in the Halloween Ball and an additional ten for presenting himself as a contestant on the stage. He was about to tuck it into his book bag when his fingertips told him that there was a second, slightly smaller sheet behind. He let the second sheet drop to the desktop. The only message was: 2:00 today

Harry knew instantly what that meant; Lupin had come through after all.

A few dozen turns around the Quidditch pitch on his Firebolt, followed by two steaming bowls of stew, and Harry’s stomach had forgiven him for skipping breakfast. The day was even colder than on his last trip to Hogsmeade but with the return of the sunlight, it didn’t seem to matter.

---

Harry was waiting in the corridor when Lupin turned the far corner deep in conversation with four or five students. One of them must have told a particularly funny joke as everyone burst out laughing at the same moment. Spying Harry, Lupin extricated himself from the group to open the office door.

“Sorry, Harry,” he apologized, still chuckling. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“I’m the one who’s early, Professor,” Harry admitted.

“No matter. Give me a moment to get my things and we’ll be on our way.”

Most of the students had left the lawn to rejoin their classes when Harry and Lupin headed down to the school gates. They waved to Hagrid in the distance and then to a small group of sixth years who were spending a study period atop a large flat rock near the water’s edge.

Harry was relieved, then oddly disappointed that Ginny was not among them. Regretfully, he conceded that he had no idea of her day-to-day schedule. It’s not like he could just pop down to the Costume Office anymore. Well, not that he really ever had, but he could have if he’d wanted. It would be just the same with the schedule, he told himself, just because he knew where to find her didn’t mean he had to go looking.

Before he knew it, they had arrived at Dervish & Banges and were unwinding their neck scarves so they could speak freely again. Despite warm hiking boots, Lupin was stomping around trying to get the feeling back into his feet. With every step, the metal cauldrons on the shelves rattled and pinged. Harry was having a hard time keeping from sniggering even though he could barely feel his face.

Mr. Dervish was only too happy to show them his selection of wands. He was a bit taken aback when Harry asked whether they had any made by Gregorovich, but he sent an employee to fetch some form the cellar nonetheless. After a shaky start, Harry settled on a fine mahogany one whose handle had been carved in strange rivulets that made for a surprisingly comfortable grip.

To his amazement, Lupin insisted on buying a spare for himself as well. He selected a svelte ash model, minimalist in its design, the wood waxed so diligently that it seemed to glow from within.

“Just because your idea is a bit unorthodox doesn’t mean it doesn’t have merit,” Lupin whispered to Harry as they concluded their transactions.

Flush with a sense of accomplishment, Lupin insisted that they drink a toast at the Three Broomsticks before heading back. Madam Rosmerta suggested a hot toddy or perhaps a flaming Firewhiskey, but Lupin politely declined. Candidly, he confessed that he didn’t have much of a head for strong liquor.

Harry recalled the hot spiced cider from Halloween and inquired whether that was something she kept in stock. She deliberated for a moment and then agreed to take a stab at it.

Lupin offered to scare them up a snack as well. From their table, Harry could see that the professor had been corralled into a conversation with two of the locals at the bar. Harry took the opportunity to tuck his new wand more securely within the folds of his Invisibility Cloak and then into the deepest recesses of his book bag. His hand brushed against the photo envelope and he pulled it out and placed it carefully on the polished wood surface before him.

Presently Lupin returned with two steaming mugs garnished with cinnamon sticks and clove-studded orange wedges. The smell was absolutely heavenly. Harry took a small sip to test the temperature and rolled his eyes in ecstasy. This was a hundred times better than what had been served at Hogwarts! Lupin chuckled at Harry’s assessment and determined that Rosmerta must have added a dram of honey mead to round out the flavor.

Seeing Harry’s eye returning to the envelope that had been propped against the salt cellar, Lupin finally had to ask.

“Hermione gave it to me this morning. Said it was from Colin Creevey,” Harry replied as succinctly as possible, hoping that Lupin would not ask the inevitable follow-up question, but he should have known better.

“Why didn’t you open it then?”

Harry was tempted to retort that Hermione had been meddling again. But before he could finish the thought, he concluded that he was being unfair. Those words had been almost as difficult for her to say as it had been for him to hear them. He sighed and mumbled, “Dunno.”

To his surprise, Lupin chuckled deep in his throat as he examined the envelope from every angle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the Creevey brothers had developed a talent for blackmail,” he observed wryly.

Perhaps it was the relaxed atmosphere of the pub, perhaps it was the fact that they were away from the prying eyes of anyone else, but suddenly Harry didn’t care anymore. Between bouts of laughter and cider and still more laughter, he was finally able to get the words out. “Professor, would you like to do the honors?”

Lupin called for another round and then flexed his fingers experimentally �“ which only started them laughing more.

Rosmerta returned with the mugs and two thick slices of treacle tart. Eying them each in turn, she warned, “Now don’t you two start on the pie until you’ve stopped laughing or you’ll give yourselves the worst case of hiccups ever.”

Sage advice or not, Harry thought that was the funniest thing he’d every heard. Rosmerta finally felt sorry for them and said, “Dolores Umbridge,” while motioning with her head towards the front door.

It was her turn to chuckle when they both whipped their heads around in shock, the merriment dying in their throats. “Works every time,” muttered Rosmerta as she returned to her customary station behind the bar.

Harry held the toad-like image of Umbridge in his mind to allow his breathing to return to normal. When he felt his eyes narrowing at the memory, he knew he had succeeded. He looked expectantly at Lupin who seemed to have regained his composure as well.

Lupin picked up the envelope and made a production of lifting the flap to demonstrate that it hadn’t even been sealed. Pinching the sides of the cardboard to bow it slightly, he blew softly into the opening and extracted a single photograph.

“Rather a nice shot of Ginny,” he said simply as he placed the photo directly in front of Harry.

The camera had managed to capture her in a rare introspective moment, gazing thoughtfully into the distance. He could see most of her hat and a bit of the rose woven into the hatband, but the photo had been cropped just below the neck. Remembering the problems with the chameleon suit, he suspected that Colin had simply enlarged the image and deleted the unusable portions.

He raised his head to find Lupin giving him that appraising look again, but this time Harry didn’t turn away. Suddenly he had the overwhelming desire to say, “Is it true that she calls you by your first name?” just to jerk Lupin’s chain.

In a flash of revelation, Harry knew he’d hit upon the key to deconstructing Lupin. The man was in a never-ending struggle to outpace the wolf that dwelt within, seeking to tame it through sheer willpower alone. His meticulous observation of social niceties was simply his way of keeping the beast at bay. Back him into a corner, though, and the extraordinary control started to crumble. Was this a chink in his armor or did it just make him a more dangerous adversary? Was it a shortcoming or an asset? Harry didn’t have the answers to those questions -- yet. Of one thing he was certain: having sized up his opponent, he could not wait to face him in a duel.

Harry seized the cardboard envelope and upended it over the table to demonstrate that there was no note demanding payment. With an elaborate sigh of relief, he tucked the photo back inside and returned it to his book bag. Spearing the last bite of treacle tart, he suggested that it was time they started back towards the school.

The cold felt like a thousand pin-pricks on his bare face as they left the warmth of the pub. Only the absence of any wind made it remotely tolerable. That and the fact that the cider has suffused his body with a warm glow, Harry conceded.

The bright afternoon sun helped to warm them through the bare trees that lined both sides of the path. Harry waited until they drew abreast of the hollow log where they had stopped before; then dropping his book bag carefully to the ground, he leapt upon the broken tree stump and drew his wand.

“Professor!” he yelled, adding just a touch of menace to his tone. He held his left arm aloft in the classic fencing pose to clarify his intent.

Although startled at first, a wide grin slowly spread across Lupin’s face. “All right,” he agreed. “This seems as good a spot as any.”

Lupin took a moment to tuck his new wand into Harry’s book bag and then unwound his scarf to allow for freedom of movement. Harry used those few moments to select his opening gambit, certain that the professor was doing the same.

Back to back they stood and then paced off, Harry’s heart hammering so hard he was certain it was echoing through the surrounding woods. Before he had totally turned around, Harry cast a non-verbal protego to shield himself then rolled quickly out of the way as he had seen Ginny do. Lupin’s spell sent bits of dried grass flying in the spot where Harry had stood an instant before. Without hesitation, Harry fired off a quick disarming charm from his position on the ground. Lupin was ready for him and waved it off with a flick of his wrist.

The element of surprise lost, Harry circled around slowly, giving himself time to consider his next move. Lupin lost no time in bombarding Harry steadily only to have most spells go wide courtesy of the repelling bubble that Harry had cast wide. He knew that as long as he kept moving, the angle of each jinx would vary enough to keep the shield from collapsing immediately. Harry ducked behind a nearby tree just as a red beam of light sent sparks flying from the trunk, effectively bursting his shield.

Harry peeked around the other side of the tree, but Lupin was nowhere to be seen. Taking a page from Ron’s book, Harry cast a quick reparo to a large broken branch on the other side of the clearing; the resounding pop sounding very similar to someone Apparating. He was gratified to see a white beam of light immediately cut the branch back in two. From the angle, he deduced that Lupin was standing somewhere to his right. Leaving the shelter of the tree trunk, Harry inched backward to draw his quarry out into the open. Lupin would have recognized the subterfuge with the tree branch by now.

A quick flash of movement to his left alerted Harry that Lupin had managed a virtually silent Apparition in the opposite direction. Hardly surprising, considering the lightning reflexes that Harry had observed before. He saw the shadow of Lupin move as if to strike and dodged out of the way �“ and right into the path of a jelly-leg jinx. He let his suddenly wobbly knees collapse beneath him. Feeling his wand beginning to slip from his hand as Lupin attempted to disarm him, Harry managed to roll out of the way just in time to maintain his grip.

Knowing he barely had time for one last effort before Lupin closed in, Harry decided to take a chance. Locating the largest tree branch overhead, he quickly completed the movements for the sectumsempra spell with his wand hidden from view, repeating it over and over until he could hear the wood start to give way. Not daring to depend upon it getting tangled in the surrounding branches, he intoned, “Wingdarium Leviosa!” with all his might to keep it from actually crashing over Lupin’s head.

Alerted by Harry’s yell, Lupin looked up and quickly scrambled out of the way. He must have cast the finite spell in his direction as Harry found that he could feel his legs again. Not taking his eyes from the teetering branch, Harry backed out of range until he was standing next to Lupin. He then released the spell.

Almost in slow motion, the branch continued its trajectory, crashing through smaller branches along the way as it gained momentum. Just before it hit the ground, Lupin caught it with a flick of his wand and sent it crashing away from them.

They stood there shoulder to shoulder, wands lowered, trying to regain their breath as the last of the echoes and cries of the startled birds died off. Harry was about to offer his hand to Lupin in thanks for a well-fought match when he heard the sound of applause and crunching footsteps coming from behind.

“Well, well, well; I believe that was a check-mate to Potter.” They heard the familiar silken drawl and both snapped around immediately to face the intruder.

Severus Snape was striding towards them, looking every inch the country squire in his trademark knee length frock coat and black boots. Only it wasn't a riding crop that he had tucked under his arm as he adjusted his gloves in a haughty manner.

Snape seemed to be in no hurry to draw his wand, though, as he surveyed the scene critically. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lupin?” he added in a disdainful tone.

“Why, Severus, I didn’t know the Dark Lord’s leash extended this far.” Lupin’s tone was equally condescending.

For a spilt second, Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but then he reined himself back. “You shouldn’t speak as if you know anything about my situation,” he sneered.

“Elucidate us then!” Lupin retorted.

“Forgive me if the pleasure of your company eludes me �“ it’s the boy I came to see,” Snape announced, his voice like ice. With a causal flip of his wand he disarmed them both, holding their captured wands high in his other gloved hand.

“Seeing as how we’ve dispensed with the pleasantries then, you won’t mind if I get off my feet,” Lupin returned as he settled himself languidly on the nearest tree stump.

Despite his unhurried demeanor, Harry could tell that Lupin was a wound-up spring on the inside. Lupin’s outward nonchalance seemed to irritate Snape that much more. Harry hoped, no trusted, that Lupin was within reach of the book bag containing the extra wands, but did not dare to look in that direction.

Feeling a need to divert Snape’s suspicions, Harry boldly offered, “Halloween’s over, Professor; it’s too late to invite me to the dance!”

He felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction when Snape’s head whipped in his direction. Harry channeled every bit of indignation he felt over Dumbledore’s murder to keep himself from smirking.

A cloud of rage seemed to engulf Snape as he practically threw Harry’s wand back and ordered, “Count off!”

As he lined up back to back with Snape, Harry hazarded a glance in Lupin’s direction, but the man’s face was unreadable.

Harry spun around and jumped back just in time to avoid Snape’s first spell. An immediate protego diverted the next two, but as Snape continued to press his advantage, it was all Harry could do to parry each attack. To his surprise, he found that the steady rhythm of the barrage allowed him an unparalleled opportunity to study his opponent. Snape moved with a measured elegance that belied his deadly intent. Each movement was succinct and yet time seemed to draw out slowly. Harry knew he would have to break Snape’s concentration if he was to get the upper hand, even for a moment, but he was not sure that he knew how.

Harry began to circle around slowly with the objective of positioning himself so the he could at least see Lupin without having to turn his head. Snape would not make the fatal error of turning his back on Lupin, of that Harry was certain. He did not expect it to be so easy, however, as Snape began to circle of his own accord. Once he had Lupin in view, though, it was clear that at some point during their confrontation -- without seeming to break stride -- Snape had incapacitated Lupin with a full body bind.

Suddenly, all the memories of that night on the Astronomy Tower came flooding back in a torrent. Once again, he experienced the frustration of being forced to watch as Snape heartlessly cut down Dumbledore yet not being able to turn his head away or lift a finger to help. He was blithely dueling with a man who had already proven he could deliver an Unforgivable Curse with aplomb.

As an icy finger of dread blossomed deep inside him, Harry faltered and Snape’s jinx cut the ground out from beneath him. As he felt the broken branches and nettles rush up to meet his knees, Harry cast a finite spell in Lupin’s general direction to set him free.

In the space of two heartbeats, Snape was dragging Harry to his feet. Harry tried to make defiance blaze in his eyes in an attempt to salvage some last shred of dignity. Snape practically threw him against the nearest tree and pinned him there with a wand at the throat.

“Don’t ever break your concentration, Potter,” Snape hissed. “Find that moment in time when the heartbeats seem to slow, and in the extra seconds between them, you will find the room to attack.” With a scornful bow, he Disapparated in a swirl of his cape.

Harry’s legs buckled and he slid to the ground in a sitting position against the tree trunk, too overcome with relief, too breathless to immediately try to stand. As if from miles away, he watched Lupin summon his wand from where it had been deposited and send his Patronus galloping towards the castle to sound the alarm. Harry staggered over to Lupin and collapsed on the log next to him, his breath still ragged.

“Did you bring the Marauder’s Map with you, Harry?” Lupin asked softly. “It’s important.”

Remembering how Hermione always left her tower window open, he offered, “No, but I can summon it from here.”

“Quickly then, as we won’t have much time before the others arrive.”

On shaky legs, he stood and called, “Accio, Map!” then practically lost his balance as he sat down again.

Suddenly, he was so cold he was beginning to shiver. The afternoon shadows were lengthening at an alarming rate. Harry closed his jacket and wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck. As he watched Lupin do likewise, he was struck by how pale the Professor looked all of a sudden. He wasn’t certain whether it was just a trick of the waning light.

The folded Map whisked into Harry’s hand and they anxiously spread it out on the leaf strewn ground. Although it displayed much of the area immediately surrounding the school gates, they could not find any other dots in their vicinity. “Map, show Severus Snape only,” Lupin ordered to no avail.

Harry faltered over the complicated ward movements and then intoned, “Map, show last position of Severus Snape!” A small blinking dot appeared right next to them, but nothing else. Releasing the Map into its usual mode, they could see that a small contingent from Hogwarts was almost at the gate.

“Harry, we haven’t but a minute, or less if they decide to Apparate. The new wands are to remain absolutely secret. Do not tell anyone; not Ron, not Hermione, not Neville, not even Ginny. Rest assured that I will not be telling Tonks. Keep mine wrapped in your Invisibility Cloak for now, I will get it from you later. In order for it to be effective as a secret weapon, it must remain so.”

“How will I learn to use it then?” Harry inquired.

“We will train together�”alone and in secret. No more on the subject for now,” Lupin whispered. “Make sure your Map is put away, I hear them coming.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 22
Answers and Still More Questions


Word of the attack by Severus Snape spread like wildfire throughout the school. Clumps of students were congregating in every corridor, talking in anxious whispers, when Harry returned through the Great Doors. The path to the Hospital Wing was lined with long rows of gaunt faces as he allowed himself to be led there. It was only the fact that Harry’s quarters were not readily accessible that had kept Madam Pomfrey from insisting that he spend the night in the Hospital Wing.

He woke the next morning with a terrible thirst only to find that the tables in the common room were practically groaning with gifts and chocolates from well-wishers. In Ron’s cold cabinet he found a pitcher of pumpkin juice with a note from Hermione reminding him that they were going down to the Quidditch pitch to check out the first official practice of the new Gryffindor team. Harry was sorry he would miss that, but he didn’t relish the thought of going out in the cold again so soon.

Neville returned after doing morning rounds and they shared a nice breakfast in front of the fire. Harry was surprised how hungry he felt all of a sudden. Probably another side effect of that peculiar draught Madam Pomfrey had demanded that he swallow last night.

It wasn’t long before Ron and Hermione returned through the sconce, full of high spirits and aglow from being outdoors.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so glad to see that you’re up!” Hermione gushed, engulfing him in a bear hug that made all of his scrapes and bruises protest.

“You gave us quite a scare last night, mate.” Ron smiled as he helped himself to some of the chocolates that were open on the side table. “Headmistress was fit to be tied.”

“Any word on Lupin?” Harry asked, remembering only too well how much paler the Professor had looked by the time they’d returned to the castle.

“Nothing,” Hermione admitted. “The headmistress wouldn’t say when she came by late last night to check on you. All she said was that he was resting.”

Neville nodded knowingly. “And that’s what they always say when they don’t really want to tell you anything.”

“Right,” Harry sighed, getting up from the sofa. “I’m going to go see him in person then. Anyone else fancy a walk to the Hospital Wing?”

“Harry, you can’t go,” Hermione cautioned, restraining him gently by the shoulder.

“She’s right, Harry,” Ron added solemnly. “McGonagall said Madam Pomfrey had barred the doors or else. She sent a lot of disappointed students back to their Houses �“ reckon half the school was there.”

Seeing the stricken look on Harry’s face, Neville offered to go scare up an update. “Let them try to turn me away,” he cried defiantly as he pinned the Head Boy insignia to his jumper.

He returned minutes later with the headmistress herself in tow.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better, Harry.” She smiled. “I told Poppy all you needed was a good night’s rest.”

“Thank you for asking, Headmistress; but how’s Professor Lupin?”

“You don’t mind if I sit down for a moment, do you?” McGonagall asked as she sank into one of the comfy chairs, politely waving away the chocolates that Hermione offered her. “I’m glad to say that he’s also doing much better this morning. His body took quite a chill when he was immobilized, that much he was able to tell me.”

“It’s a long story, Headmistress,” Harry admitted.

“And one that I intend to hear in exquisite detail, mind you.” Then in a softer tone, she added. “But not until classes start back on Monday.”

“Can I go visit him?” Harry continued doggedly. “When will they reopen the Hospital Wing?”

“I’m afraid not, Harry. I insisted that he be moved into his private quarters or he was never going to get any rest,” McGonagall reassured him. “Tonks is keeping a close eye on him.”

As McGonagall rose to leave, she noticed that Harry still seemed unconvinced. “It will be all right. You must trust me on this.” She patted him reassuringly on the arm. Before exiting through the sconce, she added over her shoulder, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were anxious to get your stories straight!”

It took an extra moment for everyone to realize that they’d just been zinged.

“Blimey, I’ve never seen her do comedy!” Ron remarked in awe.

Feeling as if a large weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Harry suggested they help themselves to some candy and he would try to fill them in on yesterday’s events. After all, he knew that they were just too polite to ask.

He’d gotten part way through a highly edited version when the sconce opened to admit Ginny, still in her Quidditch robes.

“The headmistress just told me you were awake, Harry!” Ginny exclaimed as she tossed her gloves and goggles in the general direction of the table. She started to race over to the sofa where Harry was sitting but hesitated when she saw that the room was already full of people.

“Come sit,” Neville urged, offering her the footrest from his chair. “Harry was just getting to the good part of the story.”

When Harry finished the tale, there was a very long silence. After what seemed like ages, Hermione ventured, “Did the headmistress say she was going to report this to the authorities?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think she wants to get the Ministry involved at this point.”

“I think she said something about notifying the Order; after all, Snape was one of them,” Ron offered.




Later that evening, Harry found a moment to ask Hermione if she knew Ginny’s class schedule.

“Yes,” she replied warily, “but wouldn’t it have been a lot easier to ask Ginny directly? She was just here!”

“You know I can’t ask Ginny,” Harry confessed, feeling as if the words were being wrenched from his gut.

“Harry, this is pointless,” Hermione responded in a surprisingly patient tone. “You’re not going to seek her out; you just want to think that you can do so whenever you wish. It doesn’t work that way.”

“It’s just in case of an emergency,” he tried, realizing belatedly how lame that sounded.

“What are you going to do the day that you find her with someone else?” she asked softly, laying a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Is that a diplomatic way of telling me as much?” Harry forced himself ask even though his throat had gone totally dry.

“No, I would be much more direct than that.”

“If you’d even tell me, that is,” Harry retorted.

“Oh, I’d tell you all right. Harry, how can you--”

“Hermione, stop!” Harry could feel the anguish pouring into his voice, but for once he didn’t care. “Don’t you think I have this argument with myself every single day? HOW HEARTLESS DO YOU THINK I AM?”

Hermione was quiet for a very long time, but when Harry looked up he saw that she was scribbling Ginny’s schedule on a scrap of parchment. Ron had come up behind her, drawn by the shouting.

She pressed the scrap into Harry’s hand and sighed. “And that is why I would tell you, Harry, because every argument needs a nudge in the right direction.”

Ron squeezed Harry’s shoulder sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation, she’s just as much adrift as you are. She could hardly figure out which end of the broom was which at practice this morning.”

Without Madam Pomfrey’s potion to entice him to sleep, Harry spent a restless night full of dreams of ambush and betrayal. Even the dream of Snape posturing for the Halloween judges dressed in complete Captain Hook regalia �“ an image that would have amused him under normal circumstances �“ just made him feel as if his whole world had turned upside down.



When he woke the next morning, it was with the conviction that he was going to find answers. And for that, he needed Lupin.

Deciding that he was not ready for the enormity of facing the entire school, Harry retrieved his Invisibility Cloak from the bottom of his book bag. The new wands he carefully refolded into some discarded parchment rolls in the bottom of his desk drawer, then turned the key to lock it.

He found Ron waiting for him in front of the fireplace, still yawning. “I though you might like some company, mate,” he offered, looking up at Harry expectantly.

“How did you…?” Harry was too surprised for words.

“You were like a caged lion with Hermione last night.” Ron shrugged. “I knew then that you weren’t going to be content unless you took action yourself. So what have you got in mind?”

“Not really sure. Thought I might start with the Hospital Wing.”

“All right. Although, Harry, it might not be a bad idea to bring the Marauder’s Map as well. Only one of us can fit under your Cloak anymore,” Ron added.

When Harry returned, Ron had retrieved some cold pumpkin juice and was pouring them each a glass.

“There’s something else I need to run by you, Harry,” began Ron. “Remember all that stuff that Lupin told you about the teachers’ private living quarters being Unplottable and inaccessible to students? I think I may have found a teeny hole in his explanation.”

Harry stopped gulping and lowered his nearly empty glass slowly, his eyes glued to Ron’s face. “You have my undivided attention,” he urged softly enough so that the others would not awaken.

“On my birthday (how could I forget?) I ate those stupid chocolate cauldrons that Romilda Vane had spiked with love potion. The ones that she intended for you.”

Harry nodded. “I remember.”

“It was a Saturday morning, early. You dragged me to Slughorn’s office for an antidote and banged pretty insistently on his door. He finally answered in his dressing gown, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed--”

“�”and said that it had better be an emergency because he usually slept in on Saturdays,” Harry finished for him as realization sunk in. “You’re suggesting that the living quarters are somehow connected to their offices…but how?”

“I’ve been able to think of two ways,” replied Ron. “Either there’s a whole warren of secret passages or the fireplace floos are connected somehow.”

Harry thought back quickly as he felt that first flush of discovery. Every teacher’s office that he’d visited had a fireplace. Snape had even used his to summon Lupin when he’d needed to consult over the confiscated Marauder’s Map. He himself had contacted Sirius through the fire in Umbridge’s office. He even remembered one from Slughorn’s Christmas party. It was all so obvious in retrospect.

“I think you’ve hit on something,” Harry admitted. “Although I’m not sure exactly how best to put it to the test…not yet anyway.”

The Hospital Wing turned out to be a dead end. Although the doors were no longer barred, the place was deserted. They ducked out again before Madam Pomfrey could hear them. Somehow, Harry didn’t think she would lend them a sympathetic ear.

Ron’s new information had given Harry the germ of an idea, so Lupin’s office became their next objective. Using the Map as a guide, they made their way down the least traveled routes until they reached the final corridor. Here there was so much traffic, however, that Harry left Ron hiding around the corner with the Map while he did a bit of reconnaissance from beneath the Cloak. He was surprised to see that the door to Lupin’s office was unlocked and that students were letting themselves in to deposit gifts and other get well tokens.

Returning with a handful of chocolate frogs from the stash upstairs, Ron opened the door to Lupin’s office wide enough so that Harry could follow behind unseen. He deposited the frogs among the mountain of gifts that had been left on the Professor’s desk, almost upsetting the entire pile in his haste.

They had timed their entry when the corridor had been empty to allow them a little bit of extra time. Knowing that once another visitor discovered Ron, though, he would have no excuse to loiter any longer. They had to work quickly to avoid arousing suspicions as they did not dare to lock the outer door.

With Ron’s eyes glued to the Map to make sure that no one was coming, Harry carefully tried the door to the inner office. It, too, was unlocked. Quickly they slipped inside and shut the door silently before Harry threw off his Invisibility Cloak. Hazarding to light only one wand tip, and then only briefly, they quickly ascertained that no presents had been deposited in this room. Ron tugged on Harry’s sleeve and pointed to the Map that showed a group of three students heading in their direction. Assuming that no one would have realized that the inner door had not been locked before, Harry turned the lock very slowly until he felt it click. Ron extinguished the wand tip just as they heard the door to the outer office open. Hardly daring to breathe, they waited in the darkened room until the visitors finished depositing their gifts and left. Feeling like his lungs were going to burst in the process, Harry cast a whispered Imperturbable Charm towards the door so that they could at least breathe normally.

Luckily the intervening minutes had allowed their eyes to adjust well enough that they could take a better look around. The sitting room was much larger than Harry had originally supposed, with a number of comfortable armchairs set around a large fireplace and a pair of polished sideboards flanking the mullioned window. There was just enough daylight seeping from the curtain edge that they would be able to read the Map clearly if they rested it on the settee.

With a start, they saw that two separate groups were converging on the outer office from different directions. The charm held and though they could clearly hear the door hinges open, the conversations were like the sound of dry leaves scattering in the wind.

Not wanting to linger any longer than necessary, Harry retrieved the bag of Floo powder from his pocket and approached the fireplace. Throwing a generous handful into the grate, it flashed green very briefly and then the floating particles of dust coalesced into the words:

YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED ACCESS

Ron noticed another pot of Floo powder on the mantle but the results were much the same, although the particles were tinted a unique blue-green shade instead.

“There’s no more to be learned here,” Harry whispered and nodded towards the door.

The traffic in the corridor was increasing as more students were on their way to breakfast so it was no longer a matter of avoiding just those that were headed directly for Lupin’s office. It took a number of minutes for them to find the proper opening in the crowd and even then, Harry had to take an impromptu detour to avoid getting boxed in between two groups. It was with hammering hearts that they met up in the nearby bathroom to catch their breath.

“Oh, man, that was a close one,” Harry panted.

“Any other ideas?” Ron inquired.

“Just one. How about we try to get an update on Lupin from the headmistress? It’s bound to be quieter up there with everyone at breakfast.”



They arrived before the impassive stone gargoyle with any further incident. Ron had anticipated this might be one of Harry’s objectives and had obtained the latest password from Hermione.

“Hebrides,” Ron pronounced with conviction. The gargoyle leapt aside and allowed them access to the stone staircase that led directly to the headmistress’ office. Still wrapped in his Invisibility Cloak, Harry took the first three steps in rapid succession to allow Ron to follow before the stairs started moving beneath their feet. As they neared the closed door at the top, though, it was clear that the headmistress was not alone.

“�”searched the surrounding area…Hogsmeade village…nothing.” Harry recognized the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. The words kept fading in and out as through he were pacing from one end of the room to the other.

“He’d be miles from here by now, if he had a lick of sense,” the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody replied.

“You’ve searched the school grounds thoroughly?” inquired the headmistress, the strain apparent in her voice.

“Twice.”

“Hagrid is going over the areas surrounding the Forbidden Forest even as we speak,” Shacklebolt assured her.

Recalling the unique properties of Moody’s magical eye, Harry was prompted to whisper in Ron’s ear, “You’d better leave me for now. If Moody looks straight at the door, he’s likely to see you standing on the other side. I don’t think my body will block you from view while I’m wrapped in the Cloak.”

Ron nodded that he understood and took the curving steps down at a breakneck pace. Probably went to get some breakfast, Harry concluded, as his own stomach growled in sympathy.

Harry settled himself a number of steps down from the top landing to try to maintain a lower profile. He hoped fervently that the Invisibility Cloak would shield him from Moody’s gaze but couldn’t shake the uncertainty from a previous encounter.

“�”Ministry will be the last thing he needs to worry about,” growled Shacklebolt as his footsteps brought him closer to the door once more.

“What exactly do you plan to do with him?” inquired the headmistress.

“�”attacked in broad daylight. This is hardly the time to worry about niceties.”

“There may have been extenuating circumstances,” McGonagall offered.

“It’s always the same when Severus is involved: questions, questions, and more questions!” Moody’s exasperation was clear.

“When do you think you will have a full report for us, Minerva?” Shacklebolt asked in a kinder tone.

“Remus should be well enough to provide a preliminary statement this evening. I gave Mr. Potter until tomorrow.”

“The trail will be even colder by then,” complained Moody.

“That’s why I contacted the Order as soon as possible,” McGonagall reminded them.

“But now you’re telling us you’re not sure about what happened.” Shacklebolt was probing for information. “What conclusions am I expected to draw?”

“It is the attacker’s intent that is unclear. What alternative conclusion do you suggest I form when I am presented with a student who had just had his adrenaline spiked to the point that he is nearly in shock and a teacher who’s been stupefied to the brink of hypothermia? Are you suggesting that these are self-inflicted injuries?” Her voice was like a knife.

“No, of course not,” mumbled Shacklebolt.

“I would’ve thought werewolves were predisposed to colder climates,” Moody grumbled.

“That’s part of the problem, you see,” replied a new voice that Harry realized was Tonks. “His new regimen holds the transformation in check.”

“Is that wise?” inquired Shacklebolt, his voice laced with genuine concern.

“Madam Pomfrey has given use a green light for the time being,” explained Tonks, “although it’s still an experimental treatment.”

“Please, gentlemen, back to the subject at hand,” implored the headmistress. “I need to know what you intend to do with Severus. Once you catch him, that is.”

“Oh, I think a nice long interrogation would be in order,” Shacklebolt acknowledged with an edge of menace. “It’s about time we got some answers.”

“There’s not enough Veritaserum on hand to cut through twenty years of lies and half-truths,” snarled Moody.

“Then I suggest you begin by brewing up another batch,” the headmistress concluded. “Gentlemen, I will send word when I have additional details to report.”

Harry was so startled by the seriousness of the headmistress’ assessments that it did not immediately occur to him that he was blocking the exit to the corridor. Before he had a chance to react, a flash of green light from under the door convinced him that they must have left via Floo.

“�”much for backing me up,” McGonagall was saying n a much gentler tone. “Please tell Remus I will be by later this afternoon, if he’s feeling up to it.”

“I will, Minerva,” Tonks confirmed. “Poppy’s probably driven him to the brink of his patience by now.”

“Or vice versa,” echoed the headmistress.

Another flash of green alerted Harry that Tonks had also left. He took a few moments to compose his thoughts and just as he was about to reach for the doorknocker, his hand was arrested by the sound of someone clearing his throat in the next room. He had assumed the headmistress was finally alone.

“Yes, Albus?” inquired McGonagall so softly that Harry had to strain.

“Need I remind you that it is imperative that you select a deputy as soon as possible,” chided the familiar voice of Dumbledore. Harry concluded that it must be the headmaster’s portrait that was speaking. “The risks are just too great.”

“You’re right, of course. No more excuses will do.”

“Just remember, Minerva, you cannot select Remus, as much as I know you would like to do so. It is enough that he is Head of Gryffindor House.”

“But the students all love him so, Albus; I so wanted to select someone whom they would be sure to follow.”

“If that were the sole requirement, then you might as well select Nymphadora,” chuckled the portrait. “But you don’t have to pretend with me. I know that Remus has always been a favorite of yours. I remember how vehemently you argued against my accepting his resignation….”

“He had nowhere else to go…We should have stood behind him.”

“Even if the jinx would have allowed it, I could not keep him here against his will. As difficult as it is sometimes, you have to let them make their own way in the world. I would not have let him distance himself from the outside world to become another recluse.”

“You mean like Severus did?”

“Not one of my better success stories, to be sure. Although it’s easy to understand why he would want to shut himself away. Having his first wife tortured to death before his eyes like that…”

Snape married? Harry could hardly believe it. And hadn’t Dumbledore said first wife as if there might actually be a second?

“I feel that I failed him in the end, Minerva,” continued the portrait. “Have you not heard anything else from him? Or from the other? It is vital that contact be made somehow. Has she told you anything?”

“Only what she tells everyone: that she is moving on with her life. I told you about her behavior at Halloween…”

“Yes, you did. And I must commend your determination to see that project through. It is a fine testament to your first few months that you were so readily able to dispel the last remnants of Dolores Umbridge.”

“Thank you, Albus, I always felt that wall needed a bit of sprucing up.”

“So how are the other new teachers working out? Was I right about Nymphadora �“ oh, I forgot, she prefers Tonks, doesn’t she?”

“Albus, she’s absolutely remarkable! From the first minute she got up in front of a class, she had them in the palm of her hand. Not to mention what she’s done for Remus’ disposition �“ it’s like he’s a school boy all over again!”

“I think they call that happiness, Minerva. You do remember what it was like to be a newlywed, don’t you? They would never have found one another if I had allowed Remus to remain teaching here, you know. That extra time with Sirius also dispelled some of his inner demons, I think.”

“Do you have any suggestions for the deputy head then?”

“Well, traditionally the choice was made from among the Heads of Houses, but I don’t think you’ll let convention stand in your way.”

“True,” conceded the headmistress, “but I don’t think Filius is right for the role.”

“An unfortunate shortcoming of his stature, I’m afraid.”

“What about Horace? He clearly has seniority is you take into account all the years that he taught here previously--”

“He may decide he wishes to return to his retirement at any moment. How about Pomona?”

“Well, she’s certainly comfortable working with Neville,” considered the headmistress, “and I did say that Tonks has become the unofficial mascot of Hufflepuff House so that leaves her with a back-up, if needed. I believe you’re right, Pomona would be ideal. I will speak with her this evening, if possible. And Albus, thank you for helping me sort out my thoughts.”

“As always, my dear,” replied the portrait. “Although I should advise you that Harry had been waiting patiently at the door for an audience with you. I believe your eloquence with the Order has him fearing the worst about Professor Lupin.”

With a start, Harry realized that his gig was up. Throwing off the Invisibility Cloak, he quickly stuffed it under his sweatshirt and knocked on the polished door.

No sooner had Harry sat in the proffered chair than his words came tumbling out. “I’m sorry, Headmistress, I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he stammered. “Your words made it seem like Professor Lupin was on the brink of death…” He stopped as he felt his voice catch.

“Oh, Harry, the last thing I wanted was to cause you any undue distress,” she replied, surprising Harry with her candor. “Those words were not meant for you to overhear. I won’t deny that Remus’ condition was serious, but he is recovering. You will see for yourself tomorrow, I promise.”

“But, Headmistress, Professor Lupin has a full schedule of classes tomorrow…”

“He is being excused from his classes tomorrow. Don’t look so surprised, do you think me incapable of taking over a few Transfiguration lessons on his behalf?”

“Of course not… That’s very generous, Headmistress.”

“You can meet with him tomorrow morning in his office. I know how much the two of you need to talk things out, to try to make some sense out of chaos. But don’t let Remus entire you into taking a hike around the grounds; it’s much too soon. I will expect to have a full recount from you after lunch.” She waited for him to nod, then added, “Come, you will feel better once you eat something. If I’m not mistaken, you skipped breakfast to come here this morning, didn’t you?”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.


Chapter 23
Banishing Boggarts



There was much whispering when the headmistress announced at breakfast that she would be taking over that day’s Transfiguration lessons. After assuring everyone that Professor Lupin had made a full recovery and would be assuming his usual duties tomorrow, she cautioned them that he was not to be disturbed in his office today. To make sure that her message did not fall on deaf ears, she warned them that the Professor’s office door had been hexed with a stinging spell that would only allow access to those with the appropriate password.

“Before you all accost poor Mr. Potter here for a recount of his bravery, remember that he is not scheduled to give me a full report until midday,” McGonagall intoned, “and I will be most displeased if anyone gets to hear the tale before I do.” She gave them all a stern look that didn’t fool Harry one bit.

He turned back to his plate to keep from smiling only to find that one of the post owls had left him a small roll of parchment. Slowly he unrolled it to find that the message read simply: The password is bodice-ripper. He looked to the head table and caught McGonagall watching him intently. He smiled in return as she motioned for him to tear the parchment into little pieces.

Harry waved and smiled to all those that he passed on the way to Lupin’s office but no one stopped him to chat. In her familiar purple ink, Tonks had printed a hand-lettered sign on the door which read:

Keep Out
Do you wish to be hexed into next week?

Harry chuckled softly as he waited for the corridor to empty. Then he whispered the password and was rewarded with the click of the lock. He quickly let himself in, closing the door behind. The front room was empty, the desk covered with even more baskets and boxes than before, but it was clear that someone had gone through the items and organized some of them on the far bookshelf.

“Is that you, Harry?” Lupin’s voice called from the inner office. “The charm engages automatically when you close the door.”

The scene in the inner office was much different than that of the previous day. The window curtains were drawn back to allow for a feeble bit of morning sunshine but the majority of the light was from the roaring fire in the grate. The sideboards were gleaming in the firelight, bare except for a tall vase filled with a riotous display of flowers that could only have come from the headmistress’ private garden. Turning towards the mantel, he found a small round vase with roses that he recognized from Professor Sprout’s hot house.

Lupin was ensconced in one of the comfortable chairs by the fire, his feet propped up on the footstool, a pot of tea on the small table to the side. He looked up from the book that he was reading and smiled warmly.

“Welcome, Harry,” he offered in a jovial tone. “Please make yourself comfortable wherever you’d like.”

Dropping his things in the nearest chair, Harry pulled up one of the other armchairs so he could sit closer to Lupin. Although the Professor still looked somewhat pale, he looked no worse than in the past when he’d returned to classes after suffering through a full blown transformation. Harry was surprised to note that Lupin was not wearing his customary tweeds and corduroys, though, but was dressed in jeans and a thick black jumper.

“I know, I know,” Lupin began, “I feel like I’m totally out of uniform.”

Harry’s smile broadened as he replied, “Forgive me for staring, Professor, I’m just so really, really glad to see you. The last couple of days have been just awful.”

“For me, also,” admitted Lupin. “Have you ever seen Poppy Pomfrey on a rampage? It’s enough to scare the Dark Lord’s own minions!”

And with that, Harry started laughing at the image of the petite school nurse chasing students around the Hospital Wing threatening them with what? A thermometer? Lupin joined in and they finally stopped when they could no longer catch their breath.

“Merlin, I needed that!” confessed Harry, wiping the moisture from his eyes. “Before I forget, Professor, Ron sent you this box of chocolate cauldrons. He sort of lost his taste for them when somebody replaced the Firewhiskey filling with love potion in the last box.”

“Surely, you’re joking,” Lupin returned. “That didn’t really happen, did it?”

Harry nodded solemnly and told the entire tale of Ron’s birthday woes, down to the part where Slughorn mixed them an antidote while still in his dressing gown. He judiciously left out the coda about the poisoned mead; it made for a much funnier story that way.

“So let me understand this,” Lupin asked in mock seriousness as he examined the unopened box. “There’s a possibility that these candies may be spiked with love potion?”

“Well, the odds are definitely against it,” Harry reassured him. “I understand Ron has already asked Hermione to be his date at the next dance.”

Lupin was caught totally off-guard for a moment, then he threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

Harry waited until Lupin had almost recovered before adding with a mischievous grin, “Ginny said you would laugh at that.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?”

“Snape, for one,” Harry replied as the last vestiges of Lupin’s merriment died.

“That’s true,” admitted Lupin, “but how did you ever figure that out? What made you taunt Severus in just such a manner? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in such a murderous rage. All the while, I’m having to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.”

“I had trouble dead-panning that one myself,” Harry conceded. “But as to why I choose such a remark, I’m not sure I can give you much of an answer. There were hundreds of incidents: truly vicious, hateful things that he had done that I could have thrown up at him, but that seemed a very dangerous path to take. Not that I had time to think it through much in that split second…”

“Actually, I think you did, Harry. The subconscious is a very powerful and under-rated part of the brain.”

“Professor, my question to you is this: why didn’t you retrieve one of the back-up wands? You purposely stretched out right next to my book bag, close enough to perform a wandless summoning charm. I even diverted Snape’s attention for you.”

“That you did,” replied Lupin, taking a moment to compose his thoughts. “But there really wasn’t as much time as you seem to think, Severus immobilized me almost immediately. I think that the most compelling question is: why did Severus not cut us both down when we had our backs to him, totally distracted by the duel that we had just completed? Don’t tell me that he’s too much of a gentleman to take somebody down from behind, because I don’t believe it.”

“Well, you do have a point,” Harry considered. “That would have been more efficient. Unless that wasn’t his goal.”

“Exactly. So perhaps it’s better that I didn’t put all our cards on the table just then. I would have hated to waste our secret weapons unnecessarily.”

“Well, if we take him at his word, Professor, he came looking for me. I can’t deny that there’s a lot of unfinished business between us.”

“Things that would engender such animosity? Harry, that was hatred I saw blazing in his eyes.”

“If you saw it in him, then you must have also seen it in me,” Harry allowed.

“You’re wrong about that. There is such a thing as righteous anger �“ and you, more than anyone, should be outraged that he murdered Dumbledore right in front of you. I’d be more worried about you if you weren’t. But tell me, Harry, what made you lose your step? You were blocking all of Snape’s spells consistently, rhythmically even, and then you faltered. I didn’t see you trip or anything.”

“No, I didn’t trip. It was just as you said, we were falling into a sort of rhythm, it was as if time itself was stretching out; every second seemed excruciatingly long. In those extra heartbeats that I should have used to formulate a plan, the only thought running through my mind was that I was dueling with a man who had delivered a killing curse with no more effort than it took to put a snarl on his lips, and I was absolutely terrified.”

Harry hung his head in defeat but Lupin patted his knee reassuringly. “Don’t beat yourself up for a perfectly understandable response. Tell me, though, what were the last words he said to you, when he had you pinned up against the tree? It was clear he was threatening you in some way.”

“Actually, that’s the most puzzling thing of all. I expected him to either kill me, hex me, or threaten me in some new and novel way. The more intimidating he wishes to be, the softer and more enunciated his words become. I’ve seen him do it a million times in class. Yet when he had me cornered, his words to me were that I should never break my concentration and that I should use the moments between my opponent’s attacks to launch a counter-offensive.”

“HE GAVE YOU DUELING ADVICE?” Lupin was speechless.

Harry nodded. “I came here to find answers and it looks like all we have are more questions.”

“Nothing makes any bloody sense!” Lupin cried as he paced in front of the fireplace. “I know Severus has always been an enigma but there has to be a key somewhere. His actions have the logic of a madman -- and I know he isn’t insane!”

Suddenly losing steam, Lupin threw himself back into the armchair and ran his fingers through his hair. His frustration before a problem that defied analysis was palatable.

Abruptly, Harry was reminded of Hermione who believed in dissecting a problem into its constituent parts. “Professor, I think I know a different approach. But first, I’m making a fresh pot of tea to calm my nerves.” He didn’t mention that seeing Lupin so keyed up made him feel extremely uneasy.

“Perhaps a bit of chocolate would not be out of order, either,” volunteered Lupin as he found a large bar from Honeydukes and broke it in half before handing a portion to Harry.

“I thought that only worked for dementors,” Harry commented as he felt the rich, creamy flavor slide down his throat.

“Well, I suppose you could say that there are literal dementors and then there are figurative dementors,” Lupin quipped.

Harry knew he was being set up but urged anyway, “Educate me, please.”

“Well, a literal dementor is one that is actually able to perform ‘the kiss’; one that, if it bred, would produce little dementors. A figurative dementor is one that only assumes the shape of a dementor �“ like your boggart, for instance.”

“All right,” Harry returned as he organized his thoughts. “What about something that assumes the duties of a dementor. You know, like the Dursleys?”

“That would be a figurative dementor, as well,” Lupin agreed.

“What about Dolores Umbridge then?” Harry shot back.

“Literal dementor, hands down,” Lupin dead-panned as Harry started chuckling.

“How about Severus Snape?”

“Oh, he’s just a boggart!”

Harry practically choked on the last of his chocolate but managed to wash it down with some tea. He could tell that Lupin was definitely in better spirits, also.

“Actually, Severus Snape is Neville’s boggart,” began Harry. “Which you so kindly taught him to banish by imagining it dressed as his grandmother.”

Lupin chuckled at the memory. “It worked.”

“And everyone in that class gets a big laugh, including the Slytherins. But you know that word of it got back to Snape, who we have already established is petty and utterly humorless. So from that day forward, Snape decides that he’s going to get a little of his own back. Because he already knows what your figurative boggart is, Professor, and he’s determined to spill the beans. So he waits until you miss class during the full moon and he assigns our class, the same class that witnessed him in drag, to write an essay about werewolves. Whether it’s too subtle a clue or not, Hermione is the only one who actually completes the assignment, but she keeps your secret to herself because she likes you and distrusts Snape. You return to class and cancel the assignment before it’s due to be turned in, effectively dashing Plan A.

“So Snape bides his time and then he’s presented with the perfect opportunity: he brings you your Wolfsbane Potion one evening and finds that you’re not at your desk where you should be �“ on the night of the full moon, no less. When he looks out the window, he sees that the moon is hidden behind some clouds so there’s a little bit of extra time for you to take the potion. Quite by chance, he sees you headed towards the Whomping Willow and endeavors to catch-up. Events unfold inevitably at this point: moonlight, werewolf, etc. But just to make sure that his efforts are noticed by all, Snape leaks word the next morning that you are indeed a werewolf, even though those of use who actually witness the transformation for the first time would have gladly kept your secret.”

“Yes, yes, Harry; this is all ancient history.” Lupin impatiently waved him off.

“We haven’t gotten to the payoff yet. But I should clarify that this is not my analysis, but rather Hermione’s. So I suggest you buckle your seatbelt �“ which, by the way, Professor, is another bit of Muggle slang… Where was I? Oh, yes, Ron, Hermione and I would all have gladly kept your secret, just like we kept Sirius’. Now ask yourself: why would Snape go to all that trouble to expose you when all he had to do was accidentally misbrew the Wolfsbane Potion that he prepared each month? He didn’t have to wait until you were distracted enough to run off right before the scheduled delivery time.”

“I went after you because I thought your lives were in danger. That fear drove everything else from my mind,” Lupin clarified. “I should have been more prudent, but there you have it.”

“I accept that,” Harry acknowledged. “But if Snape went to the trouble of going after you, why didn’t he just bring the potion with him to the Whomping Willow? There might still have been enough time for you to take it.”

“It does take on ominous tones when you put it that way. Snape made a point of stopping by my office while I was packing to say, ‘This is what comes from your Gryffindor sense of chivalry.’ He practically spat the words at me.”

“What was your response?”

“I thanked him for his kind words and went back to packing my things.”

“The fact that he had failed to ruffle your feathers must have galled him more than anything,” Harry observed.

Lupin indicated his indifference with a shrug. “I was so numb that I doubt any of his barbs would have drawn blood that morning.”

“Then I wasted my entreaties to have you stay?”

“It wasn’t an option for me at that time.” Lupin sighed in regret. “Your heartfelt words only made it more difficult. I felt like I was turning my back on you….but you’d already found Sirius by then.”

Lupin’s unexpected candor surprised Harry, but he responded in kind, “I would have preferred to have you both in my life.”

“Life had a funny way of twisting our words when it fulfills our wishes, don’t you think?” Lupin hesitated as if he suddenly regretted speaking his mind so clearly. “Getting back to Snape, did Hermione come to any conclusions?”

It took Harry a moment to change tracks; Lupin’s moods were not generally so changeable. “Yes and no,” he replied. “That Snape is a thin-skinned, misanthropic bully--”

“That was a given,” supplied Lupin.

“�”but also that he would go to great lengths to achieve his ends in such a manner that he could not be held accountable.”

“How does that apply to the current situation, Harry?” Lupin was definitely intrigued.

“Only that Snape had something up his sleeve and we haven’t a clue what it is. But, you’re right, attacking us was not his goal, it was just the byproduct of his careless and inconsiderate methods.”

“You mean like the fact that he terrorized Neville to the point that his literal boggart assumed the shape of Severus Snape? As Neville’s teacher, how else could I have instructed him to banish said boggart? I had no idea when I set the lesson plan that this was going to come up, you know.”

“Of course, Professor, nobody else would have held you accountable for the shape of Neville’s nightmares. And humiliating the boggart was the only way to achieve riddikulus. It was just unfortunate that the Slytherins were also in the same class.”

“And the fact that Snape has no compassion for anyone’s feelings other than his own?” Lupin suggested.

Harry nodded. “But please don’t get me wrong, Professor, those instructions you gave Neville went a long way. Sure, Snape continued to humiliate him, maybe even picked on him a little more in Potions class, but you could tell that it never got under Neville’s skin the same way as it had in the past. You gave him a way to fight back from the inside.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Lupin replied graciously. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a more glowing testimonial. Not to mention the fact that every time I think of Snape dressed like a Victorian-era matron, it always brings a smile to my face!”

“True enough,” agreed Harry, “but I have one almost as good for you. Picture Snape at the Halloween Ball trying his utmost to impress the judges �“ and he’s dressed as Captain Hook!”

“I’m never going to be able to get that image out of my mind!” cried Lupin, as he began to laugh all over again.

“Tell me about it,” commiserated Harry as the humor overtook him as well. “That’s the way he’s been appearing in my nightmares lately.”

Their hilarity was interrupted by the sound of the office door opening, followed by a blur of hair as Hermione and Ginny flew into the inner office.

“What are you two doing here?” Lupin laughed as both girls managed to hug him even though he was still sitting in the armchair.

“Professor McGonagall gave me the password at the end of class so we could come say hello,” Ginny explained as she snuggled up on the armrest.

“It’s lunchtime already? Tonks said she’d bring something up from the Great Hall,” Lupin remarked brightly. “By the way, girls, thank you both so much for the jumper. It fits perfectly.”

Hermione ran her hand appreciatively along the shoulder as she leaned on the other armrest. “We wanted to get you something to keep you from getting chilled.”

“Color suits you, too.” Ginny smiled from the other side.

Lupin turned his attention to Harry once more. “Tomorrow at two.”

Harry nodded and turned to get his things together. Closing the door to the inner office, he smiled as he heard Lupin telling Hermione how she was going to have to help him with his Christmas present for Tonks. Harry was almost at the outer door when he realized that Ginny had silently followed him.

“The headmistress requested that you join her for lunch in her office as soon as you can, Harry. She’s anxious to hear your report.”

“Thanks, Ginny,” Harry replied, but as he turned to go he found that she had actually moved closer. How does she do that? he thought for perhaps the hundredth time.

“I really didn’t get a chance the other day to tell you how happy I was to see that you were all right,” she whispered as she squeezed his hand and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

It took Harry a moment to react; but when he went to wrap her in his arms and give her a proper kiss, she had already slipped away.

No doubt about it, Harry noted, Lupin had a unique gift for banishing boggarts. He would just have to build his mental wall a little higher, he resolved.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.



Chapter 24
Debriefing


“Tell me you really didn’t say that!” the headmistress demanded.

“I assure you, I did -- and it apparently hit the mark because he rounded on me like a crazed hornet and challenged me to duel him,” replied Harry.

“Did it occur to you to refuse to do so?” she inquired pointedly. “Severus is no longer your teacher, you are not compelled to follow his orders.”

“Considering he had already disarmed us, it didn’t seem like I could very well refuse,” Harry admitted.

“But to call him out like that…” The headmistress shook her head in disbelief. “He would have given you detention--”

“�”until the day I died,” Harry supplied. “But, that’s just it, Headmistress, outside of the classroom, what’s to keep him from just killing me instead? He’s already proven himself fully capable.”

“Your point is well taken,” conceded the headmistress. “Yet both you and Remus contend that was not his intention.”

“That is our consensus, yes; but nothing having to do with Severus Snape is ever clear.”

“I tend to agree with that.”

“Which is why Professor Lupin did his best to draw Snape out at the beginning -- to get him to give us any hint of his current situation.”

“I take it he was less than successful,” the headmistress surmised. “What then did you conclude that Severus’ intent might have been? Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“I think that in his twisted way, he was trying to impart a N.E.W.T. level dueling lesson.”

“You can’t be serious!” gasped the headmistress. “Does Remus agree with your assessment?”

“I’m not entirely sure about that.” Harry was candid in his response. “But to me it had all the hallmarks of Snape’s unique teaching style.” She was clearly waiting for him to elaborate; could it be that she really didn’t know? “The arrogance and total disregard for anyone else’s feelings but his own. He’s always been totally contemptuous about the consequences of his actions.”

“Yet I can’t say that the safety record in his Potions classes has been anything but exemplary,” observed the headmistress critically.

“Of that I have no doubt; he was absolutely obsessive about the potions themselves. It’s the actual students �“ the human element�”that he disdains.”

“Harry, these are monstrous accusations…” cautioned the headmistress.

Harry shrugged and replied, “Perhaps so, but I endured six years of it. How else, Headmistress, can you account for the fact that Neville’s deepest, darkest fear manifests itself as Severus Snape?”

“Yes, I heard about the boggart �“ and I suspect that Severus resented the fact that Remus had Neville dress it like his grandmother, also. But you have to admit, Harry, it was extremely amusing,” the headmistress smiled in spite of herself. “I almost regret not having been an actual witness to the event.”

“But that’s just it, Headmistress, Professor Lupin understands the healing power of laughter and Snape resents anyone who has an ability that he himself was denied at birth!”

“Harry, your use of hyperbole is going to slay me,” admitted the headmistress as she shook her head, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile. “Did it occur to you that Severus may have been trying to assess your strengths and weaknesses in order to make a full report to Voldemort?”

“Yes; but as Professor Lupin pointed out, Snape could have cut us down from the very beginning. Even if his handlers had prohibited him from actually killing us, he would have had little trouble in taking us captive.”

“What if his assignment had been to ascertain your location, to determine how your education had been progressing? You gave him a demonstration of your dueling abilities.”

“Then I don’t think he was very impressed,” Harry concluded. “There’s one little bit of the story that Professor Lupin was missing when he gave you his report yesterday, Headmistress. At the point that Snape had me disabled, helplessly pinned at wand point �“at the moment that I finally realized that it was likely that he was going to kill me right then and there -- he got in my face and gave me a critique of my dueling. Professor Lupin didn’t hear those words as Snape always lowers the timbre of his voice when his wishes to be at his most intimidating.”

The headmistress silently weighed the import of Harry’s words for a long moment before venturing, “Is it possible that Severus was feeding you false information, luring you into using methods that would backfire?”

“It was a very insightful analysis; Professor Lupin agrees that the advice was sound.” Harry sighed; he couldn’t deny that he knew what was coming next. “This is the point at which the Professor threw up his hands in frustration. You see, it all comes down to the question of where Snape’s true loyalties lie. Without that little piece of the puzzle, it’s impossible to place any of his actions in context. He has been maddeningly consistent in that respect.”

“So we’re back to the beginning, aren’t we?” The headmistress could not hide the weariness in her voice. “It’s been nearly six months since Albus’ murder and we still know next to nothing.”

“I’m sorry, Headmistress, I wish I could have given you more,” Harry lamented.

“I can’t fault you, Harry �“ or Remus, either. You both comported yourselves admirably under very trying conditions. I gave Remus express permission for both of you to leave the school grounds that day; I know that it’s his habit to hold many of your lessons outdoors. I’m also aware that Madam Pomfrey has mandated that he exercise on a regular basis, preferably in the fresh air. Should I fault you for having an impromptu dueling session within view of the road to Hogsmeade village when that is part of the lesson plan? None of your actions were reckless in my estimation.”

“Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Nonsense, neither of you did anything wrong. However, this situation has the potential to snowball if we are not careful. For the time being, I am restricting all activities to the school grounds �“ that goes for teachers as well. Remus will just have to hike within the boundaries. As far as controlling the actual version of the events, Harry, I want you and Remus to be as vague as possible, generalize all over the place, claim a false modesty that you do not feel �“ whatever it takes. There is to be no play-by-play recitation of the events, and particularly, I do not want any of the actual words that were said by any of you including Severus, to be repeated -- regardless of how amusing they may seem in the retelling. Is that clear?”

“Yes, but I already retold some of the events in the common room on Saturday. I may not have been as vague about things as you seem to be suggesting,” Harry admitted guiltily.

“Was it the small group that I saw: Neville, Ron, Hermione and Ginny? Then swear them to secrecy as soon as possible. In the future, do not admit or deny anything regardless of how outrageous the allegation may be.”

“Forgive me, Headmistress, but what are you hoping to achieve?”

“I intend to lure Severus into making a mistake.”

---

Harry hurried back to Gryffindor Tower in order to make sure that even the few details that he had confided to his closest friends would not become common knowledge. Not that he really doubted them, but he couldn’t dispel the feeling that the stakes were higher than ever before.

He found Ron, Hermione and Neville lounging in the common room, concerned about the results of his meeting with McGonagall. He gave them a brief summary, especially about the few conclusions that he and Lupin had worked out. The seriousness of the situation had a sobering effect on everyone.

“Harry, I want to practice dueling with you,” Hermione offered tentatively, only to be instantly echoed by Ron and Neville. “I don’t think any of us can afford to be unprepared any longer.”

“That’s a reasonable request,” acquiesced Harry. “How about we start tomorrow evening after supper?”

“Will we be training in the Room of Requirement?” Neville asked hopefully.

“I don’t see why not,” Harry replied. “But right now, I need to find Ginny so that I can relay the headmistress’ instructions.”

“She’s probably back in the other common room right now,” suggested Neville. “Would you like me to go check?”

“No, I should probably go myself.” Harry sighed in resignation. “Would it be out of line for me to ask you for the password, Neville?”

“Of course not,” Neville assured him, “you’re still a Gryffindor, aren’t you? Let me just get my trusty dictionary….”

“Why ever would you need a dictionary for that?” Ron scoffed.

“You’re going to regret you asked that question,” predicted Hermione.

Neville returned, holding a paperback French dictionary aloft as if it were a prize. “Just give me a moment to look it up,” he said and he quickly thumbed through the pages. “Here it is. Today’s password is pamplemousse.” He held out the dictionary so that Harry could see the spelling.

“Since when are the passwords in French?” Harry asked as Hermione sardonically held up two fingers to indicate that was the second question they were going to regret.

“The Fat Lady’s learning French,” Neville replied as if the absurdity of the statement did not register with him.

“Whatever for?” Ron scoffed. “She and her friend, Violet, planning to owl themselves to the Riviera this summer?”

Harry laughed in spite of himself, then saw that Hermione was now holding up three fingers.

“It never hurts to learn another language,” commented Neville. “That’s what Professor Lupin says, anyway. Besides, it’s not as hard as it seems. I just remember the English word and look it up in the French dictionary.”

I should have known Lupin was behind this, Harry thought wryly.

“Besides,” chimed Hermione, “who’s to say that the Fat Lady might not be able to do a portrait exchange with another painting at the Beauxbatons school?” She held her hands up to protect herself from the sofa pillows that both Harry and Ron lobbed in her direction.

Harry pointedly turned his shoulder to Hermione before continuing, “Neville, what would happen if you lost the dictionary?” Almost immediately, he cringed inwardly at the thought that Neville would be offended by the implications.

But Neville’s face beamed as he replied candidly, “Professor Lupin assured me not to worry. He showed me a whole shelf of dictionaries in his office. There was Italian, German, Portuguese, Spanish, even Russian �“ although I’d hate to have to learn a whole new alphabet.”

---

Still shaking his head over the absolute devilry of Lupin’s password scheme, Harry made his way around Gryffindor Tower until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He pulled out the borrowed dictionary and locating the entry for ‘grapefruit’, looked up at the Fat Lady and intoned, “Pamplemousse.” Sensing that she was about to make some snide remark, he held up a warning finger. “No critiquing my pronunciation, either.”

With a shrug and an exaggerated pout, the Fat Lady allowed her portrait to swing forward to allow Harry into the main Gryffindor common room. He had forgotten how tiresome her overblown theatrics could be; but at least this was better than when she convinced herself that she could sing. He reached the end of the short corridor that marked the entrance and straightened up as he stepped down onto the carpet. The room was a riot of activity with many voices laughing and talking at once, not to mention the group of first years that were chasing each other around one of the sofas. Were we ever this young and immature? Harry asked himself even though he already knew the answer.

He scanned the crowd for Ginny as little by little the other students felt the presence of a stranger among them and turned to stare in his direction. Suddenly, Harry regretted having come down here himself as everyone present was bound to assume a connection that he was doing his utmost to deny.

He cleared his throat and announced, “I’m looking for Ginny Weasley.” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper; his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.

“I’ll find her,” offered a dark haired girl that Harry recognized as one of Ginny’s friends from the Hogwarts Express. She dashed up the stairs to the girls dormitories.

Harry leaned up against the wall and waited as unobtrusively as possible while the conversations slowly started up again around him. One of the first years that was now bouncing on the sofa cushions whispered rather loudly to his companion, “How did he get the password anyway?”

“Shhh,” replied his companion, sneaking a shy peek at Harry. “He’s a Gryffindor, too; look at his tie.”

Harry smiled in their direction but that only made them duck behind the sofa cushions. His attention was diverted by Ginny’s entrance. She looked up at him in surprise, unsure how she was expected to react. Harry put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to precede him through the portrait hole. From the collective “oohs” that he heard as the portrait closed behind them, he realized that he had just given rise to the sort of speculation that he most wanted to avoid. Why hadn’t he just let Neville go after Ginny when he’d offered?

“I’m sorry, Ginny,” he whispered as they stood in the corridor, “that was probably the worst thing to do in front of a group like that--”

“I don’t care what they think,” Ginny quickly replied. “Besides, they react that way to just about anybody �“ even Neville. Although he usually blushes which only makes it worse,” she added with a small giggle. “How did your meeting with the headmistress go? I’ve been bombarded with--”

“You didn’t give out any details, did you?” Harry asked apprehensively.

“No, the headmistress made it pretty clear that she wanted to hear the complete story before anyone else. Besides, it’s your tale to tell. Why is that suddenly so important?”

Opening the nearest door, Harry found an empty classroom where they would not be overheard. He quickly cast a muffliato charm as a back-up and sat down across from her at the closest desk. Taking a deep breath for courage, he told Ginny everything that had transpired, leaving out nothing but the part about the new wands and the conversations he had overheard outside the headmistress’ door. He knew that he was going against McGonagall’s express instructions; but if he was going to have to swear Ginny to absolute secrecy, he reasoned that she might as well have the whole story.

---

The next day in Lupin’s office, the Professor surprised Harry by not wanting to address the issue of Severus Snape at all.

“I assure you that we have not finished with Severus,” Lupin began, “but I want to review the duel that you and I fought before the details are totally eclipsed in our minds.”

Harry shifted mental gears and offered, “I was about to thank you for a well-fought match when Snape interrupted.”

“Isn’t that is a courtesy that is extended to the victor? I hardly--”

“It’s also customary in the case of a draw, Professor,” Harry clarified.

“All right, I’ll accept that. But I don’t think that was Severus’ assessment.”

“We have no way to know what Snape’s true opinion was -- I think he would’ve done just about anything to get a rise out of you at that point,” Harry admitted candidly.

“You may be right about that,” Lupin allowed. “Personally, I was quite impressed with your innovative approach not to mention the fact that you had obviously been training. So tell me, who was your sparring partner? Hermione?”

“Ron, and then later, Ginny,” Harry offered.

“Really? Tell me then, where did you come up with the one-two approach�”the two spells fired back-to-back? That takes a fair amount of practice.”

“That was actually Ginny’s idea. We’ve been practicing those a lot. Her inspiration was a Quidditch move used by Seekers to misdirect their opponents: it’s called the Wronski Feint.”

“Of course,” Lupin nodded. “I forgot that both of you have played the same Quidditch position. What did you learn from Ron, then?”

“He applied charms to objects for which the spells were not originally intended with rather spectacular results, especially with projectiles. We nearly brought Gryffindor Tower down around us when the rain forced us to practice indoors. I knew I was never going to get a chance to practice that technique unless I was dueling outside--” Harry caught himself, belatedly realizing that he had probably already said too much.

“Ah yes,” Lupin nodded sagely, “the finale with the tree branch.”

Harry had known from the beginning that it was too much to hope that Lupin would overlook that. He could kick himself for having drawn undue attention to it, though. He smiled and nodded, hoping in vain that would satisfy Lupin’s curiosity.

Harry’s heart sank as Lupin asked, “What spell did you use?”

“Sectumsempra,” surrendered Harry, knowing that he would have preferred to wait until Lupin had more fully recovered before embarking down that road. “Professor Lupin, please, that path leads right back to Severus Snape and I really think it’s best if we save that for another day.”

Something in Harry’s plea must have convinced Lupin, for even though his expression registered a slight surprise, he agreed to leave the subject for now. Not until after jotting down the name of the incantation, Harry noted with dismay -- but at least it was a temporary victory.

“Professor, I would very much like to learn the technique you used for practically soundless Apparition,” Harry ventured.

“That might be a bit more difficult due to the current restrictions, but I’ll see what I can do for a temporary lift of the anti-Apparition charms within the school grounds. But I will warn you, the technique requires an inordinate amount of concentration and will drain you of strength surprising quickly… I, on the other hand, would like to learn the -- what did you call it? Wronski Feint? I’m thinking it would be a good idea to invite Ginny to practice with the two of us -- using the regular wands, of course. What do you think?”

Harry smiled and replied, “I think that would be a great idea! I should tell you that Ron, Hermione and Neville have already asked that I help them train in the evenings as well.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea, also. Just don’t over-tax yourself. Cut back on the sessions, if you need to. I am counting on you to let me know if I start pushing you too hard, understood?”

“I will. When will you and I begin training with the new wands then?” Harry asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“How about tomorrow at three? Only an hour at a time, though. I don’t want to get busted for over-doing it too soon.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 25
The Victory Party


Harry woke on Saturday morning feeling that he had accomplished a great deal during the previous week. The dueling practice with Ron, Hermione and Neville had gone remarkably well. Once Harry had specified that they needed a place that allowed for the use of projectile spells, the Room of Requirement had compensated to protect itself from undue damage.

The training with the new wands was progressing at a satisfactory rate as well. So far they had only discovered small variations that required a few minor adjustments to their wand movements and such. It was not unlike the process of learning to ride a new broom, Harry concluded.

As the sound of distant cheering wafted through Hermione’s open window, Harry remembered with a start that the first Quidditch match of the season was scheduled for this morning. Bounding out of bed, he threw on some warm clothing and sprinted down to the Quidditch pitch.

The day was overcast but not too windy so flying conditions were not overly hazardous. Glare from the colorless sky would be the biggest challenge but both teams had polarized eyewear to compensate for such conditions. The score was Ravenclaw 30 to Slytherin 40 when Harry reached the field; he concluded the game could not have been underway for long.

He searched the Gryffindor stands for signs of any familiar faces and was rewarded when the far-away figure of Ginny stood up and waved in his direction. He climbed the long stairs, taking them two steps at a time until he arrived fairly winded at the top. He spied Ginny sitting with Ron and Hermione, a few rows down. Ginny scooted over on the bench to give Harry enough room as Ron and Hermione waved from her other side.

He noticed that Hermione was presumably keeping her hand warm in Ron’s pocket again, even though both of them were wearing gloves. Ginny leaned over to catch him up on the plays that he had missed and it was all Harry could do to keep his mind on her words, huddled as closely together as they all were to make room for his late arrival. Why did he have to oversleep again? he chided himself inwardly.

Attempting to engage his mind in other ways, Harry gazed around the stands at the other spectators. He noticed that Professor McGonagall was in her usual spot next to the commentator’s booth. The pleasant baritone voice being projected over the stands belonged to Robert Anderson, the tall Hufflepuff lad he’d seen with Luna at Halloween. Unlike the commentators from last year, Robert showed a good grasp of the game as well as the ability to identify individual players with only minor prompting from the headmistress. Harry made a mental note to compliment him after the match.

He spotted the diminutive figure of Professor Flitwick, jumping up and down in the adjacent viewing stand just as the Ravenclaw team scored two goals practically back to back. Next to him was Professor Sprout, or rather Deputy Headmistress Sprout, who was still beaming from her recent appointment. Harry did not see Lupin or Tonks, even though he scoured both the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor stands. Well, that didn’t surprise him; after all, neither of their teams was playing today.

Neither did he see Professor Trelawney but he couldn’t say that he had ever seen her turn out for a Quidditch match before. Belatedly, Harry wished that he had consulted the Marauder’s Map before leaving his room to search for any suspicious activities. Something to make note of for the next match, he told himself, together with remembering to set his alarm.

Harry’s attention was redirected to the field as Professor Hooch blew her whistle to announce a foul by the Slytherin team.

“I was wondering when that would happen,” grumbled Ginny.

Ron leaned over and whispered, “That’s one for me, Sis; I said that there would be at least 100 points on the scoreboard before the Slytherins showed their true colors. You can pay up later.”

Robert announced that the score was now tied at 60 points as the whistle was blown to resume play. A furtive movement near the team changing rooms alerted Harry to the presence of Mister Stevens who was seeing to the equipment for today’s match. Why his action should seem so dodgy was not immediately clear to Harry. Perhaps it was just that he looked so incongruent in his trainers and jogging trousers, despite the Hogwarts coat of arms emblazoned on the back of his matching athletic jacket. As Stevens took a long swallow from his ever-present water bottle, Harry could see that his long blonde hair had been tied back in a pony tail.

The crowd exploded with screams and cheering that could only mean one thing: someone had caught the Golden Snitch that indicated the end of the game. To Harry’s dismay, the triumphant look belonged to the Slytherin Seeker who was holding his gloved hand aloft as if posing for a heroic statue.

A tide of green and silver converged upon the field led by the mighty form of Professor Slughorn, a lone walrus among a flock of tittering sea gulls. The Slytherin team was engulfed in a tide of congratulations from their adoring fans until only the hand of the Seeker could be distinguished among the roiling masses, the restrained Snitch still struggling to break free.

Harry remained glued to his seat as the surrounding spectators started their slow descent from the viewing stands. Ginny made to urge him up, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand. Seeing the intense look on Harry’s face, she sat down next to him and followed his line of sight out onto the playing field.

“Oh, that’s just Mister Stevens,” Ginny explained in a whisper. “I told you about him at Halloween--”

“How could I forget?” Harry replied, barely moving his lips. “He had Professor Hooch clutched across his bare chest.”

“It was a very good likeness of a romance novel cover.”

Harry turned and seeing that no one was paying them any heed, looked Ginny straight in the eye as he stated unequivocally, “It implied a more personal association than would be prudent to display �“ especially for a teacher.” His voice was so low that Ginny could barely hear him from inches away. “There’s more to it than that, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Harry watched Stevens collect and stow the Quidditch equipment quickly and efficiently, totally oblivious to the wild celebrations that were going on around him. Momentarily, it crossed Harry’s mind that maybe the man was a Squib but then Stevens whipped out a wand and summoned the errant Snitch from the Slytherin Seeker’s hand. The Seeker spun around, giving Stevens a dirty look for depriving him of the prop he was using to illustrate the game’s climatic moment. However, the way the Seeker cradled his hand for a moment made Harry rethink that there might have also been some sort of stinging hex involved.

Not wishing to alert Stevens that he was being scrutinized, Harry motioned for Ginny to move down the aisle so they could queue up with the others working their way down the stairs.

They caught up with Ron and Hermione as they made their way back to the Great Hall for lunch. Ginny had scheduled the pitch for an afternoon practice of the Gryffindor team so she excused herself early to round up her team members.

“I wonder what made her rearrange her training schedule at the last minute,” Ron mused. “I thought she had it worked out that they were practicing every Wednesday at four.”

“Who knows?” Hermione shrugged, returning to the second cup of cocoa that she was nursing.

Harry didn’t contribute anything even though he knew the reason for the last minute change. Wednesdays at three was the only open afternoon for both Lupin and Ginny. Come that time next week, the three of them would begin training in earnest in the Room of Requirement.

The thought of returning to the common room after lunch did not appeal to Harry in the slightest. Turning to Ron, he suggested, “Do you think Ginny would mind if we watched the Gyffindor team practice this afternoon? I don’t want to make things any more awkward for her than I already have.”

Ron gave him a quizzical look and replied, “You’re over-thinking this, Harry… Tell you what, I’ll say it was my idea and that I forced you to come along, if that will ease your conscience.”

Harry smiled and nodded eagerly, then turned to Hermione to see if she was interested in joining them.

“You two go on ahead,” she offered. “I need to send an owl to my mother as it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting to the cyber-café anytime soon.”

They found a few spectators and assorted fans loitering around the Quidditch pitch. One of them was Robert, so Harry took the opportunity to compliment him on the morning’s commentary.

“Thanks,” he replied modestly, “I guess you could tell I was pretty nervous.”

“Not at all,” Harry responded. “You should have seen some of the announcers they were trying out last year.”

“Oh, yeah, Luna told me about that. She was the one who encouraged me to audition, said I had the ideal voice. She said she even took a turn herself, if you can imagine that!”

“Actually, I can,” chimed in Ron, grinning broadly at the memory. “I was laid up in the Hospital Wing during that game, couldn’t see a single play, but I had one of the most enjoyable experiences listening to Luna do the commentary. I don’t ever remember laughing so much in one sitting!”

Robert chucked. “Luna is sort of an acquired taste, I guess. Still, I’ll tell her you were one of her fans.”

“Please do,” Ron agreed. “So, do you play, Robert?”

“I tried out for the Hufflepuff team, but didn’t come close to making the cut,” he admitted ruefully.

“Well, you still have a number of years--” Harry started to respond when he was caught short by a red and gold blur screeching to a halt right before them. When his eyes focused again, he saw that it was Ginny.

“You guys fancy a bit of work-out this afternoon?” she offered. “My team could use a practice match.”

Harry looked at Ron who grinned back in return. “We’ll just go get our brooms from the shed,” Ron offered.

Harry followed keeping a watchful eye out for Mister Stevens, but it appeared that Professor Hooch was attending to the equipment single-handedly. He turned back to the field and saw that Robert was carrying on an animated conversation with Ginny. They were done before Harry and Ron returned to that end of the field, Robert waving to them from a distance as he made his way back to the school.

“Interesting,” Ginny was muttering under her breath as she noticed that Ron and Harry had returned astride their brooms. “Fill you in later, let’s play some Quidditch!”

---

The afternoon shadows were lengthening on the pitch when they finally decided to call it a day. The team was beginning to work well as a unit thanks to the extra workout Ron and Harry had provided and Ginny was glowing from the sheer exhilaration of a great practice session.

“Tell you what, gentlemen,” she offered companionably as they headed back towards Gryffindor Tower, “I have an open invitation for what is being billed as the party of the year. Why don’t we get cleaned up and see if Hermione and Neville want to come along?”

Ron caught Harry’s eye over Ginny’s shoulder as if to say, I told you it would be all right.

Back in the common room, Hermione had also received an invitation directly from Daphne Greengrass, one of the few other seventh-year students. The party had begun earlier as a simple victory celebration in the Slytherin common room, she had explained. As the afternoon wore on and attendance swelled, Professor Slughorn decided that it deserved to be done properly in his offices.

“I don’t know,” hesitated Harry, “I can’t see partying with the Slytherins…”

“Now, Harry, you really should give them a chance,” Hermione suggested diplomatically. “It’s not at all like it used to be, not with Slughorn as the new Head of House. They’re being encouraged to change their image.”

“Look, Harry,” urged Ron, “I never got to go to one of Slughorn’s parties last year; and just once, I think I’d like to check it out. We can always leave if the Slytherins get too obnoxious.”

Neville voted with Ron and Hermione, reminding everyone of the headmistress’ goals for all of the Houses to try to work together. Sensing he was outvoted, Harry agreed to give it a try.

---

Even though he’d attended one of Slughorn’s soirées before, Harry was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. What had seemed like a tight warren of rooms had been transformed into a large open area with few dividing walls and a commanding view of the sunset. Harry concluded that many of the adjoining areas must have been closed off previously.

“Blimey, you never told me it was like this!” Ron gaped appreciatively.

“It was totally different before,” Hermione whispered tersely, Ginny nodding in confirmation from behind. “It was cramped and tight and difficult to navigate.”

“Navigation’s still going to be a problem,” Neville commented as he indicated the additional bodies that had arrived in the past few minutes.

Harry surveyed the crowd and was surprised to see that the predominant color scheme was not silver and green as he would have expected from the Slytherins. Instead, just about everyone had donned white draped outfits over their street clothes.

He leaned over to Hermione and whispered, “You didn’t mention this was a toga party.”

She shrugged her shoulders to indicate that she hadn’t known, then hailed a tall Slytherin girl from across the room. Daphne Greengrass walked over to greet them seeming to float among the throng, an illusion created by the white gossamer fabric of her long draped gown. As she neared, it could be seen that her waist was cinched with flowing green fabric intertwined with silver ribbon.

“It’s so good to see you, Hermione,” Daphne said, smiling at each of them in turn. “Ginny, I knew you couldn’t stay away… Harry, Ron, you’re both looking good… Neville? I never realized you were so tall.”

Neville blushed and mumbled something which apparently only Daphne could comprehend as they quickly became engrossed in conversation. As she deftly led Neville away through the crowd, Harry couldn’t repress the thought that she looked like a modern-day Persephone with her long plait of dark hair falling down her back.

He turned his attention to Ginny as Hermione was saying, “You knew about this?”

Ginny nodded. “Where do you think the Slytherin girls got their outfits?”

Ron cleared his throat for effect and commented, “That was a bit presumptuous of them, wouldn’t you say? What if Slytherin had lost the match?”

“I think Professor Slughorn was determined that they should change their image regardless,” Ginny replied.

“The world doesn’t revolve around Quidditch, you know,” Hermione quipped, only to realize from Ron’s affronted expression that she had better get him something to drink before he forgot to breathe.

Left alone with Ginny, Harry suddenly had no idea what to say to her. He looked into her upturned face and thought of how the deep violet of her shirt intensified the copper sheen of her hair. In the dwindling glow of the setting sun, her eyes seemed infused with the same amethyst shade.

“Come,” she said, as she made led the way through the press of bodies, “I see some other sixth-years who would probably like to meet you.”

Harry allowed her to introduce him to a sizable group of girls, each beautiful in her own right, many dressed as Slytherin nymphs. He found that he couldn’t remember a single one of their names; but it didn’t matter as they had no trouble regaling him with questions and requests for tales of his recent exploits.

To Ginny’s credit, she did not abandon him to his new admirers, and patiently stood by as he told a highly generalized version of the events before genuine modesty overcame him and he ran out of words. It wasn’t until much later, when the group had dwindled down considerably and Ron and Hermione had returned, that Ginny excused herself to greet some new arrivals.

Harry could not keep his eyes from following her as she squeezed through the bodies, a bright jewel being swallowed up in a sea of white. If only he could have found some pretext to detain her, he thought wistfully.

Catching the import of his lingering look, Ron leaned over and whispered, “You could just tell her the truth.”

Harry sighed and tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he continued to scan the crowded faces around him. Without looking at Ron directly, he whispered back, “Not without putting her life in danger.” Sensing that he could not maintain his equanimity much longer, Harry excused himself to go in search of something to drink.

---

He found the long refreshment table situated in front of a panoramic view of the twilit grounds. The last rosy glow was still lingering on the horizon, pursued by the deep velvet glow of evening, the first stars just waiting in the wings.

There was still enough ambient light by the long row of windows to see clearly, but sconces throughout the room had been lit nonetheless. The flickering candlelight danced across the ice-lined platter filled with silvery oysters and other delicacies that were not so readily recognizable to Harry. More silver trays full of sandwiches and cakes of all sorts followed. Professor Slughorn was at the far end of the table, carefully skewering the crystallized pineapple from a fully detailed replica of a Quidditch pitch constructed exclusively of candy and confections. Harry followed suit with the licorice portions, and in no time they had almost fully demolished the Hufflepuff viewing stand.

“Well met, Harry,” Slughorn greeted him, recognizing his partner in crime. “I was hoping you’d come. Sent invitations to all the Houses �“ I expect that the Ravenclaws will be the last hold-outs. It would do them good to drown their sorrows, though.”

From the number of empty bottles nearby Harry surmised that the Professor had already been taking his own advice. With no other teachers present for company, no wonder he had been at a loss for amusement. Harry helped himself to a butter beer from a huge iced vat that he identified as a gigantic copper bathtub complete with clawed feet. He had to give the Professor credit, he had truly managed to capture the over-abundance and largesse of a Roman feast.

“Can I interest you in a toga?” Slughorn offered in a jovial tone. “It’s only de rigueur for Slytherins, but we have plenty of extra sheets for others who wish to partake.”

“No, thanks,” Harry returned with a laugh, “I have enough trouble not tripping over my shoelaces as it is.”

“It does take a bit of practice,” agreed Slughorn as he upended an oyster shell into his mouth, spilling not a single drop on his crisp white folds. Harry could only watch in awe as the Professor adroitly scooped up a handful of other delicacies without draping any of the long fabric into the platters.

“No more Slug Club then?” Harry asked as he helped himself to a sandwich.

“Not for now. A Head of House has to have other priorities, I’m afraid. Can you believe this group has never had a party in their honor?”

Considering Snape had been Head of Slytherin for over a decade, Harry understood only too well. “I don’t think Professor Snape was much for socializing with his students,” Harry added diplomatically.

“He wasn’t much for socializing with the teachers, either,” Slughorn returned. “I could barely convince him to show up for my Christmas party last year; and then he insisted on leaving his wife at home.”

Harry nearly choked on the last of his butter beer but quickly covered it up with a cough.

“Here, have some cider, my boy,” Slughorn suggested as he speared a cold bottle from a smaller tub. “There’s been quite a demand for it since my committee introduced it at Halloween.”

Harry was glad for a chance to hide his face behind the cider bottle as he considered the import of the Professor’s statement about Snape having a wife; not had as in past tense, but current tense.

“Your committee did an excellent job with the refreshments at the Halloween party, Professor,” Harry volunteered in a feeble attempt to keep the conversation going.

“Glad we could help. Can’t say I have much talent when it comes to decorations or costumes, though. But entertaining, I understand. Could never have found those delightful gowns for the Slytherin girls, either, had it not been for the assistance of Ginny Weasley. Dressed them up as goddesses, she did. I’m sure you know her, seeing that she’s a Gryffindor also.”

“Yes, Professor. Her brother, Ron, has been my best friend since the first day that I came to Hogwarts,” Harry replied helpfully, suspecting that it would not do to remind Slughorn about his part in producing a love potion antidote for Ron last year.

“Now, where is Ginny? I saw her around here not too long ago.” Slughorn swiveled his portly form in all directions.

Sometime during the course of their conversation, the music had started up and a small dance area had been cleared not too far from the refreshment table. Although the room was considerably more crowded than before, this small oasis afforded them a clearer view across the room than before.

“There she is, Professor,” Harry cried, just having caught a glimpse of violet and ginger hair between the bodies of two dancers. He inclined his head towards the bookshelves that dominated the far left wall. But as another gap between the dancers opened up, Harry realized with dismay that Ginny was deep in conversation with none other than Robert. Both had their bodies leaning against the bookshelves, their faces inches apart.

Harry felt the color drain from his face, his body feeling like it had just been hit by a bolt of glacial lightning. He nearly missed the table as he put his empty cider bottle down, eager to cross to the other side of the room before his knees started buckling.

Misreading his intentions, Slughorn waved a jaunty goodbye and urged, “Good idea, son. Go ask Ginny for a dance.”

Harry staggered to the other side of the room where he had last seen Ron and Hermione. It was like trying to find his way through a surging tide until he felt hands grab him and pull him down into a chair.

“What is it, Harry?” Ron asked, swimming in and out of Harry’s focus. “You look as pale as a sheet. Not that you wouldn’t match most everyone here.”

“Very funny,” Harry managed to mutter under his breath as he tried to keep his stomach from rejecting both the cider and the butter beer that he had just consumed.

Hermione returned with an understanding look on her face as she kneeled down next to Harry’s chair. He was glad that the crowd was much thicker on this side of the room so that neither Slughorn nor Ginny could see him hanging his head in misery.

“Harry,” Hermione began softly, “look at me. Is this because you saw Ginny? I think you’re reading a lot more into this.”

Harry mumbled something about Slughorn’s parting comment, surprised when both Ron and Hermione seemed to understand his words.

“That’s just what you should do, Harry,” urged Ron excitedly. “Get her out on the dance floor.”

Seeing Harry’s unconvinced expression, Hermione hissed in his ear, “Look here, Harry James Potter, either you march right over there and ask Ginny for the next dance…”

“Or what, Hermione?” whispered Harry defiantly.

“I swear I will get an owl, tie a note to its scrawny little leg, and send it over to Ginny. And don’t think I can’t sign your name convincingly enough, either!”

Hermione was right, no one’s life would be endangered with a single dance. But as he purposefully took Ginny’s hand to lead her out onto the dance floor, he had to resist the urge to continue out the door to some place where they could be alone. If only a place existed that would be safe from Voldemort’s diabolical reach.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 26
Locked Out


The rumors had started even before Harry awoke the next morning. Word was that the party had continued in high gear until the early hours of the morning when it had finally been broken up by the appearance of the headmistress herself.

Having lingered much later than Harry and Ron, Hermione explained that she and Ginny had accompanied a group of girls to the bathroom and had been forewarned by the sound of the headmistress’ brisk footsteps down the deserted corridor. Needless to say, they had not returned to the party to witness the finale.

A rather sleepy Neville confessed that he had only escaped due to Daphne’s quick thinking. Alerted by the sudden silence, she had ducked them into an alcove that contained an exit door hidden among the bookshelves. A quick glance at Hermione convinced Harry that she, too, thought that there was probably more to Neville’s story -- but they would have to wait for him to volunteer it. The fact that Neville was blushing furiously as he told his tale was remarkable only if you knew that he was usually much more at ease among the four of them.

The Slytherins were a subdued bunch at breakfast but that could be attributed to a simple lack of sleep. It was surprising that no additional facts leaked out throughout the day, though, as if the lot of them had entered into a secrecy pact.

In the end, it was Hermione who reached the definitive conclusion that, regardless of the outcome, Professor Slughorn was to be commended for casting the Slytherins in a new light. “Just look at us,” she observed. “In the past we would have been secretly gloating over any punishments that they received. Now, we’re concerned that they don’t get the book thrown at them for offering a bit of hospitality to the entire school. We’ve all become part of the same team.”

Harry noticed that Slughorn’s popularity seemed to have increased overnight, as well. As the Professor moved among the students, he was the recipient of many more friendly waves and overtures than ever before.

---

Tonks was already seated by the roaring fire in Lupin’s inner office when Harry arrived for his next appointment.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she waved happily. “Heard we missed a great party this weekend!”

Lupin entered from a door on the far side of the hearth and placed his hand on Tonks’ shoulder to forestall any further comments. “I take it you were there,” Lupin commented with an encouraging smile.

“Together with about three quarters of the school!” Harry replied. “I think the only hold-outs were the Ravenclaws, even though Professor Slughorn said that they would have been welcome also.”

“I believe even a few of them showed up later in the evening,” Tonks offered.

“They didn’t get into a fight over the Quidditch match, did they?” Harry inquired.

“No, everything was friendly as far as I know. I just can’t figure out why everyone is acting so differently today,” Lupin admitted.

“You should have said so sooner,” Harry confided. “Hermione already came up with an analysis.” Relaying Hermione’s conclusions as accurately as he could, Harry added, “What will happen to Professor Slughorn?”

“Nothing more than having to face the headmistress.” Lupin shrugged as if that were a negligible concern.

“I think I’ll go put in a good word for him anyway, Remus,” Tonks volunteered as she headed for the door. “I have just enough time to stop by the headmistress’ office before my next class. Good to see you, Harry. Sure I can’t convince you to sit in on one of my classes again? Give a bit of perspective to the younger ones?”

Harry shook his head as he smiled regretfully. “What are you teaching them now?”

“The Patronus Charm,” Tonks responded with aplomb. “I understand you had great success teaching that one yourself.” With a final wave, she was gone.

“Forgive me for asking, Professor, but is Tonks teaching the Patronus Charm to all of her classes? I always understood that was rather advanced magic.”

“It is, but we have no other fool-proof method of identifying one another. With the Christmas holidays almost upon us, there are bound to be lots more comings and goings. You may be surprised to learn that many matters are not as calm in the outside world as they are within the confines of the school.”

That did not surprise him at all, Harry admitted inwardly, then added aloud, “So you and Tonks went away for the weekend?”

“Just up the coast. Madam Pomfrey seemed to think some sea air would be beneficial. I hate to admit it, but I do feel more rested.”

Harry looked at Lupin critically: he no longer had such dark circles under his eyes and seemed to have acquired a hint of a ruddy glow. He decided that it was as good a time as any to put forth the request that had been nagging at him for weeks.

“Professor, I’d like to visit Godric’s Hollow.”

Lupin was silent for a moment and then replied thoughtfully, “I can’t say I haven’t been expecting that. You told the headmistress as much when you agreed to return for a seventh year… But Harry, we’re in the middle of a lock-down here! I, myself, do not relish leaving school grounds anytime soon in light of the events that are being reported by the Muggle press…”

“I assumed that it might take a while to iron out all the details,” explained Harry. “I just wanted to put my request out there….You’re aware that the headmistress herself promised that we would be allowed to leave school grounds with prior approval �“ either from her directly or a member of the Order.”

“Yes,” Lupin responded, choosing his words carefully, “but you’re unlikely to get either right now. Look, Harry, I’m not trying to dissuade you, but you need to pick your battles carefully. The reality is that the headmistress was probably painting a much rosier picture than the situation warranted. Why are you so anxious to visit Godric’s Hollow, anyway?”

“I should think that would be obvious,” Harry returned more curtly than he intended.

“Because your parents died there? Perhaps….But just what do you hope to accomplish with this pilgrimage?”

Harry composed his thoughts before continuing in a more reasoned tone, “For one thing, I’d like to visit my parents’ home �“ or at least what remains of it after the Death Eaters finished with it.”

“There’s nothing to see.” At Harry’s bewildered expression, Lupin elaborated, “It’s a site that is still protected by the Fidelius Charm and the Secret-Keeper, Peter Pettigrew, is still alive. Unless Peter sings for you, the house �“ the rubble �“ or whatever’s left, will not be visible to you. It’s just like number twelve, Grimmauld Place.”

“You mean that if Dumbledore had never provided me with that little slip of paper, I wouldn’t be able to see the house �“ even though Sirius left it to me in his will?”

“Essentially so. Although in that case, any Order member that was privy to the secret could share it with you after Dumbledore’s death. But if Dumbledore were still alive, we couldn’t even do that.”

“Right,” Harry considered, as he pondered the new information before him. “So all I have to do is find someone that Peter confided in and that person will be able to see the house, but not tell me where it is. Do I have that right?”

“Such a person would be able to take you there in person,” Lupin confirmed.

“Forgive me, Professor, but I don’t see the problem. Surely, my parents confided in you.”

Lupin’s eyes clouded over as he sadly shook his head. “You recall that I wasn’t even aware that Sirius had not been chosen as the Secret-Keeper in the end. There was no time, or reason, for Peter to have confided in me in order to betray James and Lily.”

“But Sirius knew--”

“Sirius was present when the charm was cast; he also knew that Peter had been substituted as Secret-Keeper,” Lupin continued in a voice that implied that he had already gone over this territory a number of times himself.

“What about Dumbledore? He knew where to find them, didn’t he?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Yes, he did. But Harry, he didn’t know of the last minute substitution, either, so he could not have been present at the time of the casting. I can only assume that he had visited James’ and Lily’s home, as had I, so he had some vague notion of where the house had been originally located, but he would no longer have been able to see it.”

Harry’s mind was reeling from trying to unravel the convoluted web of secrets. “Let me get this straight, Professor, the only people that we know for certain that Peter confided in were Sirius and Voldemort. What about my parents? Would they have been able to tell anyone else -- like my Aunt Petunia?”

“Harry, please understand that I don’t have all the facts,” Lupin cried, “and I cannot ask either Sirius or Dumbledore for answers. I can make a few conjectures, but please remember that is all that they are. The value of a Fidelius Charm is that it controls who has access to a secret and how it can be passed on to others. The more people that know the secret, the greater the chances that one of them will be captured and tortured for the information. So to answer your question: I think James and Lily would have purposely forbidden Peter to reveal the secret to them so that if either of them were captured, the other would not be put in danger.”

“But how would they be able to get back into the house then?” Harry asked, determined to find even a tiny hole.

“I don’t think it was their intention to leave. They were going into hiding.”

“What about if they ran out of food or water or needed anything else?”

“I believe they had Dumbledore as some sort of backup. Did you never wonder how Dumbledore ended up in possession of your father’s Invisibility Cloak? He would have needed that to smuggle in anything unseen, although I’m not certain where they would have had him drop off the goods since he was not in possession of the secret at the time of Lily’s and James’ deaths. Perhaps this was a plan that was never fully put into play in light of Peter’s other priorities. To this day, there’s just so much we don’t know.”

“What if Voldemort had been defeated in some other manner? How would they have been able to lead a normal life again?” Harry implored desperately.

“Whoever cast the charm, Lily probably, would also have been able to repeal it, uncast it as it were, so that everything would return to normal. I don’t profess to be an expert on charms and jinxes, Harry, I’m sorry. Perhaps Professor Flitwick knows some little detail that I’m missing.”

Approach the problem from a different angle, Harry reminded himself. “What if I told you that I wanted to visit my parents’ graves? To pay my respects? That’s something that the Dursleys would never have allowed me to do.”

“Harry, please understand.” Lupin sighed with utmost sadness. “There are no graves. The bodies were never recovered from the house. No one but Sirius would have been able to see them and Peter saw to it that he was sent to Azkaban the very next day.”

“But surely the Order held some sort of memorial service; that is their custom, isn’t it?” Harry felt like he was grasping at straws.

“Yes, and I was there at the memorial service. But there was no tomb, no graves, no marker of any kind. Just our hopes and dreams scattered to the wind….” With that, Lupin lowered his face into his hands, overcome by the feeling of despair this memory always brought back to him.

“Professor, how did they manage to rescue me from the rubble then?” Harry asked quietly, not wishing to stir up painful memories but being driven by an overwhelming need to know the truth.

“Hagrid rescued you….Dumbledore called on Hagrid. Perhaps the charm worked imperfectly on him because of his giant’s blood �“ you’ll have to ask him directly.”

Feeling the last tie to his parents beginning to evaporate, Harry made one last attempt. “What if I wanted to explore Godric’s Hollow anyway? To search among the streets and lanes for some last tie to my parents; for something that might seem insignificant to anyone else, but which stirs some long forgotten memory in me?” Something that might turn out to be a Horcrux, he added silently.

Lupin’s eyes still glistened but his voice was steady when he replied, “It’s too risky to undertake such a wild goose chase. The Order believes that Voldemort’s forces are expecting you to show up there sooner or later. They are laying a trap.”

It took Harry a moment to recover, then he inquired, “The Order is continuing to meet? Surely not at Grimmauld Place?”

“Yes, the Order still meets on a regular basis,” Lupin replied with a wan smile, “but not at Grimmauld Place. Do not ask me where, I am not the Secret-Keeper.”

“And you think they are laying in wait for me at Godric’s Hollow?” Harry asked apprehensively.

“I know I would if the situations were reversed… Look, Harry, I’m not saying we shouldn’t ever go to Godric’s Hollow, we just need to be prepared to spring the trap when we do.”

---

The need to find out more about the workings of the Fidelius Charm weighed on Harry’s mind as he prepared for his first dueling practice with Lupin and Ginny. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some little detail that he was missing, a key point that would suddenly shed light on the whole tangled mess. None of the texts, even those in the Restricted Section, had anticipated the Gordian knot that the little rat, Pettigrew, had created. But right now Harry’s brain ached from trying to make any sense of it and he was grateful for the prospect of some sort of physical activity.

He arrived at Lupin’s office to find that Ginny was already in the inner office chatting animatedly with the Professor. They both looked up and smiled as Harry entered.

“Help yourself to some tea, Harry,” offered Lupin. “We’re taking a moment for the crowds to clear out before we make our way to the Room of Requirement. You did bring your Map, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Professor,” replied Harry warily, “but why the sudden secrecy?”

“New procedures from the headmistress. In light of the incident with the Vanishing Cabinets, she wishes that everyone who uses the Room of Requirement to keep a very low profile. Besides, it would be next to impossible to schedule the room if its presence became common knowledge.” Lupin’s tone seemed oddly breezy as if there was a hidden agenda that he was not ready to disclose.

The anticipation of dueling had Harry feeling a bit reckless, so he ploughed ahead, “Why not just cast the Fidelius Charm on it? That would certainly keep it from being discovered now, wouldn’t it?”

“Are you offering to be the Secret-Keeper?” Lupin shot back at him.

Harry was about to open his mouth for the next volley when Ginny spoke up, “Excuse me, is this a private game? Or can anyone play?”

“I’m sorry, Ginny, we get carried away sometimes,” Lupin replied, not a bit chagrined. “Harry and I don’t always keep to strict classroom protocols. A bit of verbal sparring is a traditional warm-up to a duel, but Harry should have waited for the ground rules to be established.”

“Obviously, the Death Eaters will do the same,” Ginny quipped.

Harry gave her an appreciative look, then turning to Lupin, added, “Trial by fire, Professor.”

“You two are absolutely incorrigible,” Lupin admitted with a long-suffering sigh. “Why do I already feel like I’m going to regret this?”

“It’s the legacy of Fred and George,” supplied Ginny with a sly smirk as she allowed herself to be ushered into the now empty corridor.

Once ensconced within the confines of the Room of Requirement, Lupin settled himself into one of the comfortable armchairs by the hearth and suggested that Ginny and Harry take the floor. “Are you ready to count off, or do you need to call each other out a bit more first?” he asked in mock seriousness.

“I think I’m ready to go,” Harry replied, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. He could hear Ginny trying to suppress a giggle as she lined up behind him.

Lupin gave them a few extra moments to compose themselves, then started the slow count to ten. Ginny was out of the gate like a ball of fire and it was all that Harry could do to keep her from undercutting him at every turn. Obviously Lupin had told her that he wanted to learn the new back-to-back spells as she used them mercilessly and to great effect. Harry found that he was mainly in a defensive posture much as he had been with Snape; but with the unpredictability of Ginny’s attacks, there was no chance of reaching that plateau where the seconds seemed to lengthen. Almost totally winded, Harry felt himself being pushed back towards one of the walls nearest the hearth and did not have the power to resist any longer. As he felt the cold stones through his shirt, he found one last bit of energy to quickly deposit his wand on the mantelpiece and raise his hands in surrender.

“Enough, Ginny, I concede,” Harry panted as he bent over double, trying to catch his breath.

When he finally felt the spots before his eyes receding, Harry straightened up and half-staggered into one of the chairs next to Lupin. Ginny was sitting, very straight, on one the floor cushions, her concentration clearly intent on her breathing. Harry hazarded a glance towards Lupin and found him watching each of them in turn with a definite twinkle in his eye.

“You two are very evenly matched--” he began with a small smile, only to be assaulted from both sides almost immediately.

“I had him on the run--” Ginny cried, while Harry declared, “I could never find an opening--”

Lupin’s smile broadened as he motioned them both for silence. “It looks a lot different from the outside looking in,” he explained. “That was a very impressive performance, Ginny, but you need to hold yourself back a bit. Otherwise, your opponent will just wait until you’ve tired yourself out and then attack… Harry, that was a very effective defense but you should have used that extra breath, the one you found at the end, to turn the tables on her sooner. She only had the advantage of split second at the onset…. Ginny, your attempts to keep Harry on the defensive worked very well, but I think I saw a few places where you left yourself open…. Tell me, Harry, was it always like this when you two practiced before?”

Harry thought a moment, then shook his head as he searched for the right words. “Frankly, Professor, I’ve never seen her go at it like that. What was with you, Ginny?” Harry asked, turning to her directly.

Ginny looked uncertainly to Lupin, who urged, “Tell him what you were visualizing.”

“Umbridge, I was thinking of all the grief we took from Umbridge,” Ginny admitted.

“I don’t think I ever knew the details, Ginny. What did Umbridge do to you exactly?” Harry inquired.

“Come on, Harry, we all hated her…” Ginny answered, her eyes suddenly caught by the motion of Harry unconsciously rubbing the top of his hand.

Lupin noticed the look that passed between them and he was standing next to Harry’s chair in the next heartbeat, examining the scar on Harry’s hand in the firelight. “She did this to you? Umbridge did this to you?” Lupin asked softly. Harry tucked his hand self-consciously underneath the other and hung his head.

“He refused to back down when Umbridge insisted that Voldemort had not returned,” Ginny replied softly from the foot of Harry’s chair. She must have drawn nearer when he wasn’t looking. “It spells out ‘I will not tell lies’�”or it used to anyway, it’s faded quite a bit since then.”

“There was no cause for that kind of punishment, no matter what the infraction,” Lupin asserted, his voice hard as stone. “That was torture, plain and simple �“ no different than using the Cruciatus Curse. No wonder there are those who think that the Ministry is riddled with dark wizards… Harry, you know I’m going to have to report this to the Order.”

Harry nodded glumly. “I know I should’ve reported her to someone--but I felt so powerless--as if anything I did was only going to make it worse; if not for me, then for someone else.”

Lupin nodded in sympathy, then turned his attention to the lesson at hand. “You don’t mind sitting this one out, do you, Harry? I think I’d like to try my hand against Ginny this time. If she’s sufficiently recovered, that is.”

Harry watched in awe as Ginny turned on Lupin quickly only to find that he was already waiting for her with a defense of his own. He used his momentum to quickly take the offensive and drive her back. The first opening she saw, though, Ginny was right back at him -- only to realize that she had been set up as Lupin caught her with a jelly-legs jinx. Releasing the spell, Lupin helped her back to her feet and they both joined Harry by the fire.

“It does look a lot different when you’re not in the thick of it,” Harry admitted.

“Give us your assessment then, Harry,” Lupin urged.

“Ginny was quick, but you were already waiting for her so that you could grab the lead. Her speed was not enough to overcome your momentum. I think that I would have to say that Professor Lupin anticipated your every move, Ginny.”

“Good assessment, Harry,” Lupin nodded. Then looking Ginny straight in the eye, he explained, “I could not have done that if I had not just watched you with Harry. You would have had me winded much faster than him in that first round. Just don’t ever let yourself become predictable. Do not repeat your opening gambit; if your opponents can predict you, you have just given them an unprecedented advantage… Is there any butterbeer in that side cabinet, Harry? I’m feeling a bit worn out.”

Harry was able to locate a pitcher of ice water and some glasses that the room had anticipated they might need. Any other types of refreshments, they would need to bring on their own.

Lounging around companionably after having consumed most of her water, Ginny ventured, “Professor, any chance of my getting to critique you and Harry?”

“Absolutely,” Lupin assured her. “You will excuse me if I postpone that until our next session, though. I don’t have the stamina that you two do. The opportunity to size up your opponent from the sidelines in an invaluable tool. Admittedly, it’s infrequent that you’re afforded the same option in real life and evaluating them at wand point is considerably more difficult.”

“A bit of clarification, Professor,” requested Harry, “how were you able to determine that Ginny was using visualization so easily? Or was it something that you had suggested to her beforehand?”

“I confess to having an unfair advantage in that respect, also,” Lupin supplied. “Tonks uses that technique sometimes and I’ve learned that her eyes take on a certain far-away look.”

“So you’ve dueled with Tonks before?” Ginny asked demurely.

“Only as part of training for the Order. We prefer to resolve any household disputes without the use of wands,” returned Lupin without missing a beat.

Harry couldn’t help marveling at how Ginny had set up Lupin with such ease and how effortlessly he had deflected her, clear evidence of their long-standing familiarity.

“All right, when we meet next week, I’ll be anxious to dive into those back-to-back spells,” Lupin continued. “Please be thinking about which spells you want to use so that we can trade some ideas back and forth. Remember: unpredictability is our goal. My compliments to both of you on a very impressive display today.”

As they neared the door, Lupin added in a more serious tone, “Just so there’s no mistake, Ginny, none of this free-wheeling stuff will fly in my Transfiguration class, understood?”

Harry knew she was going to do it before the words came out of her mouth. “Of course, Remus,” Ginny replied on her way out the door. Harry was certain that she had not said it loudly enough for anyone else to hear, but decided that he did not want to turn around and see what Lupin’s reaction had been.

---

Ron and Hermione reported that the Room of Requirement would not reveal itself to them. Harry handed the Marauder’s Map to Neville who had been trailing a bit behind to make sure that they were unobserved.

“Give me some sort of signal if you see anyone heading this way,” Harry whispered to Neville as he prepared to make another attempt on his own. Three times he walked before the blank wall, stating their requirements in an unequivocal manner. The wall remained impassive.

“Do you think the room is already in use?” whispered Hermione anxiously.

“I suppose that’s possible,” Harry agreed. “Although, I didn’t see anyone headed this way earlier.”

“What about that group of third years that I saw when we were en route?” Neville suggested.

“We gave them the slip,” Ron replied. “Didn’t even look twice at Hermione and me huddled in the shadows.”

Hermione colored slightly and tugged on Ron’s hand as if she wished he would be silent. Harry turned away to avoid them any further embarrassment but the situation was all too clear to him: they had likely engaged in a bit of a snog to divert suspicion. Quick thinking on their part, he conceded.

“Let’s just reschedule for tomorrow evening,” Harry suggested, thinking that would give him a chance to see if it was anything to do with the new protocols that Lupin had mentioned.

---

Although Harry was not scheduled for a lesson with Lupin the next day, the Map allowed him to see clearly when the Professor was teaching a Transfiguration class. Harry simply waited outside of the classroom until the students were dismissed. Ducking soundlessly inside, he was surprised at how many students were hanging back to have a bit of personal time with Lupin before moving on to their next class.

Not wanting to short-change anyone, Harry strolled to the back of the classroom and stared out on the courtyard that was that was quickly filling up with sixth years on a break. His eyes immediately attempted to locate Ginny even though he knew that she was not scheduled for a free period at this hour. It seemed like an eternity until their next dueling session with Lupin, but it was too much to hope that she could squeeze in another practice with him somewhere, anywhere, in the meanwhile -- especially knowing how much trouble she was having just scheduling Quidditch practice.

“Looking for anyone in particular?” Lupin posed as he leaned his hip casually upon the windowsill next to Harry. Seeing Harry steal a glance towards the front of the classroom, he added, “Everyone’s gone. You seem like you’re miles away.”

“Actually, I came to see you, Professor,” Harry replied.

“Seems a shame we can’t just join them in the sunlight �“ without being mobbed,” commented Lupin, nodding to the groups in the courtyard. “Still, I think I know another spot. Come.”

Lupin led the way to a small door behind the teacher’s desk. It was opened, Muggle-style, with a small key that Harry had never noticed attached to Lupin’s watch chain. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure that they were not being followed, Lupin ducked through, closing and bolting the door behind Harry. They were inside what looked like a tall broom closet, but as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see that it was actually a circular room with a narrow staircase that wound its way up to a trap door.

“We’re in one of the castle turrets, aren’t we?” Harry asked in awe as he calculated how many stories it was to the top.

Lupin nodded with a sly, crooked smile that Harry recognized as the Marauder’s trademark. He could only imagine what sort of mischief that little group had wrought in their day. It was like being in the presence of a legend sometimes.

“This door is always kept locked and it is quite tamper-proof, I assure you,” Lupin whispered with a twinkle in his eye. “But before the ascent, we need to prepare ourselves for a different climate zone.”

Lupin hung his robes on a hook and shrugged on a thick, black jumper that he extracted from his briefcase. Harry followed suit and retrieved a long, striped scarf for his neck. They started up the stairs, holding on to a thin metal railing that felt like ice despite Harry’s gloves. The resemblance to the tower room where Professor Trelawney taught Divination was reinforced by the presence of the trap door; but when Lupin threw it back, they were bathed in clean, crisp air and yellow sunlight.

The air was so cold that it practically burned his lungs at first but it was exhilarating to have a bird’s eye view of the castle and grounds. The walls of the tower were crenellated battlements designed with long bowmen in mind; to Harry, though, they made comfortably wide benches on which to relax, as long as he remembered not to stare straight down. Lupin opened a metal grille imbedded in the base of one of the battlements and withdrew two dusty, but cold, bottles of butterbeer.

“This is fabulous, Professor!” Harry commented. “What would the headmistress say?”

“Probably that it’s her stash of butterbeers that we’re raiding,” Lupin replied with a wide smile.

“You’re not serious?” Harry laughed and then took a long pull of butterbeer.

“Absolutely. This is her aerie, bequeathed to me as part of the Transfiguration classroom. She used to bring me up here when I was a Prefect and she was my Head of House. Admittedly, those stairs are a lot easier for feline feet to climb.”

Harry took in the panorama, bearing in mind that it was less stressful to look at scenes in the distance. There was Hagrid’s hut with the smoke beginning to curl out of the chimney and a corner of the thestral pen in the distance. The sparkling lake with the ever-present smattering of students along its banks. The imposing gates to the school and, further on, even some of the gabled roofs of Hogsmeade village on the far horizon. He felt as if he could almost see the train station around a bend in the lane, but it was obscured by trees. Turning a bit to the left, he could just see Gryffindor Tower -- although his own room was not visible. The open window identified Hermione’s room and that indistinct flash of ginger fur must be Crookshanks weaving back and forth on the windowsill.

“I’d forgotten how beautiful and serene it all seems from up here.” Lupin sighed. “One can almost forget that there is such evil threatening us from all directions, almost to our very doorstep at times.”

“That’s because evil lurks in the cold, dark recesses of people’s minds; not out in the open in full view of everyone.”

“I’m afraid you may be right, Harry. It is man who manufactures hatred himself out of the pettiness and slights of the world, brewing it like a bitter potion in his heart.”

“So do you think the situation is hopeless?”

“No, I wouldn’t be here if I did,” Lupin admitted. Then shaking his head, he added, “But how did we get off on this tangent, Harry? Obviously, you sought me out for some purpose today….” Lupin allowed his words to trail off expectantly.

The concerns of the world below seemed so insignificant from this vantage point that Harry almost hesitated to say anything at all. It was only the realization that he would feel differently later that made him forge ahead. “We couldn’t get the door to the Room of Requirement to open for us last night. I told everyone we would reschedule our dueling practice for tonight instead, but I was hoping you could help me determine what I was doing wrong.”

“By everyone, you mean: Neville, Ron and Hermione, correct?”

Harry nodded, “I used the exact same request that I used successfully before.”

“Was there anything about the situation last night that might have been different?”

Harry explained how Ron and Hermione had volunteered to go ahead. When they had encountered others unexpectedly, they had improvised a reason to be on the seventh floor corridor.

“Well, no doubt they were very convincing,” Lupin agreed with a barely concealed smile, “but I believe that is the crux of the problem. I meant to warn you about that yesterday since I know that you have valid reasons for using the room. I apologize for the oversight, it totally slipped my mind after we started the dueling session with Ginny.”

“I understand completely, Professor; Ginny gets under my skin all the time, although in quite a different way.”

“All joking aside, the headmistress has altered some of the charms that control access to the Room of Requirement. The magic that created that space seems to be almost as ancient as the castle itself, so it is not possible to protect it with a Fidelius Charm,” Lupin explained, looking pointedly at Harry. “Her goal was to keep the room from being used for questionable activities like Draco Malfoy did last year; so somehow it is now able to refuse admittance to someone whose intent is inappropriate. It works in a similar manner to the barrier outside the rooms in your residence tower.”

“What will it consider inappropriate?” Harry inquired.

“Unfortunately, I cannot give you a definitive answer,” admitted Lupin. “It is a judgment call at best, subject to all manner of grey areas.”

Harry felt an uneasiness begin in his stomach as he thought of the textbook that he had hidden. Would these new protocols put it out of reach forever?

“So you think that Ron and Hermione’s little snog locked us out?”

Lupin nodded. “But the room would reset itself at some point, so they won’t be locked out forever. Make sure that either you or Neville perform the opening sequence tonight just to be on the safe side. Let me know if you experience any additional problems.”

“Thanks, Professor, it was truly an unexpected pleasure today.”

“As always, Harry. I’m not one for spending much time in the staff room with the other teachers between classes, anyway; this is so much more fun. You know, I almost hate to go back down. Who knows when the weather will be pleasant enough again �“ now that winter’s almost here?”

“Is this the first time you’ve been up here? Since you acquired the key, that is?” Harry asked.

Lupin nodded. “I considered bringing Tonks up here for a private picnic but then remembered that she doesn’t really care for heights.”

“I can’t image that Hogwarts needs a wailing madwoman dancing among the turrets,” Harry added with a sharp laugh. “Kind of like a modern-day Lady of Shallot.”

“Somehow, I think that role has already been taken,” Lupin remarked as he directed Harry’s line of sight to a similar turret on the far side of the castle. There standing with her face to the wind, bright scarves dancing wildly around her, was the enigmatic figure of Professor Trelawney. It was the reflection of the sunlight on her oversized glasses that allowed them to identify her from this distance. The illusion that her aura was pulsing was eerily convincing.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 27
Wolf Among the Flock


Hermione was not surprised at all that McGonagall had placed new restrictions on the use of the Room of Requirement.

“I was wondering how she would insure that the school was not breached again,” she affirmed. “Frankly, I’m surprised she didn’t just board the room up!”

Harry’s heart involuntarily skipped a beat, but he was immediately hearted to hear Ron reply, “Ancient magic is not so easily thwarted, Hermione; I would think you would recognize that by now.”

“And McGonagall hasn’t announced it to the entire school because she’s not entirely certain which of the students know about the room and which do not,” Neville added with flawless logic.

“So you think it might be some sort of a trap?” Ron inquired.

Harry shrugged his shoulders as Hermione rebutted, “If that’s so, then wouldn’t Lupin be undermining the headmistress’ authority by telling us about it?”

“Hermione, Lupin knows that we hold practice sessions in the Room of Requirement. I told him as much -- and he applauds our initiative,” Harry explained. “I think he stuck his neck out to give us a heads up, let’s not betray his trust in us.”

“But what about poor Winky?” Hermione asked, changing directions like a weather vane. “Doesn’t Dobby have the Room of Requirement transform itself into a nice secure place when Winky needs to sleep off an excess of butterbeer? I know he talked about how there were even little elf-sized beds. What will the room make of that request?”

On that note, Harry excused himself for the night and quietly closed the door to his room. He could still hear them but he no longer felt an obligation to participate in the conversation. The hypothetical discussion was finally brought to a close when Ron reminded everyone that house-elves were bound by a magic different than theirs; and consequently, there was no predicting anything to do with them in the first place. Harry concluded that Ron was to be commended for keeping the exasperated tone in his voice to an absolute minimum.

Leave it to Hermione to be concerned about the feelings of a house-elf when they were counting down to a confrontation with an evil the likes of which no one had previously encountered. It was all fine and good that she was willing to stand up for the rights of the downtrodden, Harry mused, but if the Order of the Phoenix did not prevail in the upcoming struggle, the house-elves would be lucky if they even survived.

With a weary sigh, Harry slid between the warm covers of his bed. It had been a frantic afternoon but in the end his panic had been unfounded. The Room of Requirement had opened and he had been able to verify that his prized volume of Advanced Potion-Making was undisturbed.

---

Before they knew it, November had rolled into December and it was time for Gryffindor to face Hufflepuff on the Quidditch pitch. Lupin and Tonks had apparently decided not to let their marriage stand in the way of their House allegiances and were each unabashedly supporting different teams. Neville reported that he thought Professor Sprout was secretly trying to win him over to her side even though he kept tactfully reminding her that he would be lynched in the Gryffindor common room if she did. To her credit, McGonagall was trying to remain impartial; although after reigning over Gryffindor for so many years, it was often rumored that she actually bled in red and gold.

The day of the match dawned grey and overcast, the low cloud cover giving the feeling that the sky was conspiring to keep them low to the ground. The cold rains from the week before had barely ended, leaving the air with just enough moisture to feel like an icy knife working its way through all manner of clothing.

Harry was awakened by someone abruptly shaking him by the shoulder. He tried to focus on Ron’s blurry face as he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. He found them right next to the alarm clock that he had sworn he had set the night before. Once everything was back in focus, he distinguished the concerned face of Hermione watching anxiously from the doorframe.

“Harry, I know I heard your alarm ringing earlier this morning,” she began. “Did you fall back to sleep?”

“I must have,” concluded Harry. “The match hasn’t started yet has it?”

“Not yet, mate,” Ron assured him, “But you haven’t much time if you want to make the opening whistle. Hermione’s taking some muffins and butterbeer in her rucksack to save you a bit of time with breakfast.”

“Dress warmly,” Hermione reminded him from the doorway. “I’ll use my rucksack to save you a space so we won’t be so crowded this time.”

Harry got dressed in record time and grabbed an extra jumper that he tied around his neck as a back up. He hesitated at the door to his room then doubled back for a quick peek at the Marauder’s Map.

He intoned the required incantation to release the magical map of Hogwarts castle contained within the parchment. The entire school seemed to be emptying out the doors and out to the Quidditch pitch, a line of black ants all traveling in tandem. He quickly scanned the empty halls, looking for anyone that might be engaged in questionable activities. Other than Professor Trelawney in her tower and Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, the school was empty except for the small dot labeled “Harry Potter”. He found Filch and Mrs. Norris, his cat, patrolling the back lawn but there were too many dots superimposed on the viewing stands and field itself to be able to distinguish anyone in particular.

Harry was about to wipe the surface when an errant thought occurred to him. He traced the requisite pattern with his wand and then commanded, “Map, show location of Severus Snape only.” Harry was not surprised when the castle hallways and rooms remained blank. He was about to fold up the parchment for storage when he caught a small movement near the edge. There approaching the Quidditch pitch, where he would be hidden among all the spectators, was a dot labeled “Severus Snape.”

Suddenly energized, Harry fumbled hastily through the bottom layers of his trunk, finally locating the Omnioculars that he had purchased at the Quidditch World Cup. He strung the strap around his neck, not bothering to tuck them under his jacket as they were not likely to arouse anyone’s suspicions. Hastily refolding the Map into his pocket, he was halfway down the grand staircase before he remembered to tap it with his wand and whisper, “Mischief managed.”

Harry raced to the Quidditch pitch, arriving just in time to catch the opening whistle from the sidelines. He stopped momentarily to catch his breath and scan the stands with the Omnioculars. Almost immediately, he located Lupin seated near the front of the Gryffindor stands with Hermione and Ron nearby. He took off at a trot and tried to climb the stairs at a steady pace to allow his breathing to return to normal. He was only partially successful, and finally had to stop on one of the deserted landings to allow the spots to clear from his vision.

When he was certain that nothing in his outward demeanor would betray the turmoil within, Harry serenely climbed the last short flight of stairs and emerged onto the reviewing stand. Trotting down the few steps to the bleachers as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he slipped into the empty space next to Lupin and waved to Hermione and Ron who were seated on the Professor’s other side. Hermione motioned to the contents of her rucksack and handed it over by way of Neville who was seated just in front.

Lupin turned and greeted Harry warmly. “You just missed the opening whistle, no score yet.”

“Caught it from the sidelines,” Harry replied nonchalantly as he strained to catch sight of a play at the opposite end of the field. He lifted the Omnioculars to his eyes and leaned forward, using the opportunity to lay a hand on Lupin’s shoulder for balance. He sat back down but left his hand lingering on Lupin’s shoulder for emphasis. He could tell from the way that Lupin’s body had momentarily twitched that the signal had been understood.

Gryffindor scored a goal and they took the opportunity to rise to their feet with the others. Lupin used the jubilation to cast a surreptitious muffliato charm so that they could at least talk freely, even though their motions could still be observed.

“Tell me what’s happened, Harry,” Lupin urged as he leaned over casually, maintaining eye contact with the match before them. “This cloak and dagger stuff is making me extremely uneasy.”

“Just make sure you keep a neutral face, Professor,” Harry cautioned. “I took a quick look at my Map before heading down here and it revealed that Snape was lurking among the crowds on the Quidditch pitch.”

Harry felt the shock radiate from Lupin as he did his best to remain impassive. Lupin made to borrow Harry’s Omnioculars and took the opportunity to ask, “Where was he exactly?”

Hufflepuff scored a goal as Harry replied, “Just on the other side of the changing rooms. That area was mobbed right before the start of the game. Should I check the Map again?”

Lupin timed the shaking of his head with a missed goal by Gryffindor, but Harry would have been hard pressed to recall the clumsy player’s name. “It’s not a good idea to let anyone else know you have that Map, either. Security measures are such that the headmistress would want to confiscate it for her own use.”

“Surely, you don’t intend for us to do nothing?” Harry asked, beginning to be a bit bewildered.

“No, but I don’t want to start a wide-spread panic, either. Nor do I want to alert our quarry that he has been discovered.” They stood up once again to cheer as Gryffindor scored another goal. “Next time you get an opportunity, scan the Ravenclaw spectators: locate Professor Flitwick-- he is your goal. Then find someone else you know that you can use as a pretext to visit the stands. Stop by for an impromptu word with Flitwick, a last minute thing as you are turning to leave. Tell him that I have caught a glimpse of someone who looks suspiciously like Snape hanging around the pitch, add the details from your own observation, explain that you have loaned me your Omnioculars so that I can keep a lookout from the stands.” Gryffindor scored another goal. “Let Flitwick take it from there. I expect that he will alert the others, including Neville and Luna; but since it is their function to patrol normally, no one will suspect that anything out of the ordinary has occurred.”

Harry took a long swallow of butterbeer to wet his suddenly dry throat and then set off. He encountered Flitwick just coming down from the reviewing stands and made as if to pass him, then doubled-back as if he had remembered something. Flitwick nodded curtly to indicate that he understood the situation and walked away in his usual purposeful manner. Harry stopped to chat with a few others that he met along the sidelines before returning to the Gryffindor stands, hoping that Lupin would be pleased with the improvisations that had been necessary.

Assuming the same nonchalance as before, he slipped into the empty space next to Lupin and casually asked for an update on the score. Lupin indicated that Hufflepuff was ahead 90 to 50 at this point.

Realizing that he was suddenly cold, Harry shrugged into his back-up jumper and then back into his jacket.

“I have some hot cocoa, if that will help,” Lupin offered companionably. He held up an ordinary thermos container and joked, “Medicinal purposes.”

“I’m actually more curious about the thermos,” Hermione whispered, leaning over.

“A gift from Arthur Weasley,” Lupin explained. “From back when he was in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. It’s been jacked up to keep things at a constant temperature indefinitely.”

“I could really use some coffee,” Harry mumbled, as Hermione took his half empty bottle of butterbeer and suddenly changed the contents to a deep brown color.

“Here,” she offered, handing the bottle back to him, “but I warn you that it always seems to come out as espresso when I do it. I really haven’t got the proper wrist action, or so Professor McGonagall always tells me.”

Empty mugs arrived from the depths of Hermione’s rucksack and hot mochas were passed around among the four of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Luna walk down to where Neville was seated in the next row and whisper something in his ear. Neville immediately got up and followed her to the exit.

The second half of the game passed more pleasantly than the first. Harry was finally able to concentrate on the match, and with Robert’s expert commentary, he was soon caught up on all the action. Hufflepuff had amassed an impressive lead of 150 to Gryffindor’s 70, mainly due to the shortcomings of the Gryffindor Keeper.

Lupin was having great fun with the Omnioculars, mastering the use of all the special features. Harry noticed that he often watched the far Hufflepuff stand where Tonks was reigning supreme as the unofficial team mascot. Even without magnification, Harry could see that she was in high spirits, jumping up and down continually in her fur-lined parka, a miniature Eskimo in a roiling mass of yellow and black stripes.

The bleachers beneath him seemed to sway with a collective groan as the Hufflepuffs scored yet another goal. The Hufflepuff stand erupted in cheering, just as a blur of movement on the far side of the field caught Harry’s attention. Harry grabbed Lupin’s sleeve and pointed. It was Ginny with the Snitch. Gryffindor had managed to come from behind!

---

Flitwick shook his head as they approached to indicate that the intruder had not been apprehended. A barricade had been erected around the Quidditch pitch as a precaution, but the general consensus was that their quarry had escaped.

Teachers were being called to the front of the line to assist so Lupin hastily handed the Omnioculars back to Harry and whispered, “Thanks. I saved you some bits to replay later.”

Once Harry, Ron and Hermione had produced Patronuses for Flitwick, he asked if they would assist with checking through some of the others students. Tonks’ recent classes on the Patronus Charm had apparently been very successful, although that meant a lot more students to be checked through one-by-one.

They agreed, but Harry asked if he could have a moment with Professor Lupin first. Flitwick took over Lupin’s post momentarily while Harry walked a short distance away for a spot of privacy.

“Professor, I’ve just had the germ of an idea,” Harry began tentatively. “Would it be possible to get a copy of that list that shows the Patronuses for all the teachers?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lupin agreed although Harry could tell that the man was dying to ask a whole bevy of follow-up questions. “Do you need the one for the students as well? I believe it’s quite extensive.”

“Just the sixth and seventh years if you can, but that’s not as important as the other.”

Lupin nodded, then in a voice loud enough for the immediate vicinity he added, “Of course, Harry! You know I wouldn’t dream of missing the Gryffindor victory party! What kind of a Head of House do you think I am?”

With a curt wave, Lupin returned to his post and Flitwick turned Harry over to the capable hands of Professor McGonagall. She handed him a clipboard and showed him the charm that would bring forth the data for each year, then how to locate the House; after that, everything else was alphabetical. If the chart indicated that a student could not do the charm at all, he was to direct them to the far line where Filch was checking them over with the Secrecy Sensor. If they could produce only a non-corporeal Patronus�”this was by far the largest group, McGonagall explained-- he was to send them over to the line where Neville and Luna were checking for the silver smoke in groups of three or four.

“Any discrepancies, no matter how minor, please report to Professor Tonks or myself,” finished the headmistress.

Harry identified a number of discrepancies, but they all turned out to fall into one of two categories. There were those students who were producing first time Patronuses which had not yet been documented by Tonks, and those that had been previously successful but had become suddenly shy under close scrutiny. After watching Tonks assist one of the shy ones, Harry found that he could handle these himself by just giving them an extra bit of personalized attention.

With all of them working diligently, it still took them nearly two hours to check everyone through. The Quidditch teams were the last to arrive at the checkpoints, the Gryffindors lagging behind even more along with a small group of revelers. Ginny timed it so that she was the last one through Harry’s station.

She looked around carefully before sidling up to Harry and boldly whispering, “Isn’t there any other way I can convince you of my identity?”

Harry remembered only too well the heady feeling that a Quidditch victory created and he regretted that he was going to have to disappoint her. “I could suggest that you go through Ron’s checkpoint -- I’m sure he won’t be too angry about having to retrieve his clipboard from the headmistress.” Harry’s arm indicated the general direction where McGonagall and Flitwick were collecting all the checkpoint data.

The motion must have attracted Lupin’s attention, as he eased over and inquired, “Is there some sort of problem here?”

“Ginny wanted to know if there was some other way she could prove her identity to us?”

“I see,” Lupin replied, “lost your wand, have you?... Here, take mine. You’re talented enough to be able to perform the charm with someone else’s wand �“ or at least the real Ginny Weasley would be…”

“Oh, you’re incorrigible!” Ginny replied, pretending to be miffed. She whipped out her wand and issued forth the silver fire lizard that was uniquely hers. “My way would have been much more fun.” She pouted for Harry’s benefit as she flounced off.

Harry shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. “I’m having second thoughts about that victory party,” he confided to Lupin.

“Just wait until Tonks gets there; you know how it is when they get together,” Lupin noted wryly.

Harry had forgotten about Tonks. “She’s not going to commiserate with the Hufflepuffs then?”

“Not initially, anyway. We had a bet going and she’s going to have to deliver.”

Harry decided that things were looking up after all: Ginny wouldn’t try to put the squeeze on him unless they were pretty much alone and the presence of Tonks guaranteed that it was going to be a boisterous party. He couldn’t wait to find out what the wager had been.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 28
A Celebration of Sorts



By the time he’d returned to the castle, it had started to snow. Knowing that the party was probably already starting, Harry raced down the grand staircase in order to make a special request directly to the Hogwarts kitchens. He encountered Professor McGonagall slowly climbing the stairs with an elaborately decorated cake in her arms.

“Let me help you with that, Headmistress,” Harry suggested but she waved him off.

“I’m almost to the portrait hole as it is, Harry, but thank you for offering,” she replied, smiling. “It would probably be better if I passed it through to someone on the inside of the opening, though -- if you don’t mind going on ahead of me.”

“Not at all.”

Harry was about to inquire why she hadn’t just entrusted the cake to one of the house-elves, then remembered the disaster that Dobby had made of his Aunt Petunia’s elaborate pudding. The headmistress was probably wise to deliver it personally, he concluded.

“If you don’t mind me asking, though, how did you know ahead of time that Gryffindor was going to win?” he inquired, looking carefully at the cake for the first time. It was an elaborate confection depicting a lion’s head devouring a badger whose bristly coat was composed of closely packed sugar quills. The lion’s mane had been rendered of toasted meringue.

“Now you know I’m supposed to remain neutral,” declared the headmistress with a wink. “This morning there were actually two separate cakes, one in the shape of lion and the other a badger. Once the match was over, a wave of the wand combined them in the appropriate configuration you see here.”

The Fat Lady was gazing rather intently at the cake by the time they reached her portrait. After brief consideration, the headmistress announced, “Couer de lyon.” The portrait obligingly swung open as McGonagall confessed to Harry, “My French is so rusty!”

Leaving the headmistress with a number of Gryffindors who had volunteered their assistance, Harry continued on his errand. Once in the Entrance Hall, he took the smaller staircase that led down to the lower levels. Tickling the painted pear revealed the hidden door handle and he let himself into the cavernous kitchens situated immediately below the Great Hall.

As usual, the place was a beehive of house-elves scurrying to and fro. He stood there looking around for a moment before the familiar face of Dobby materialized right before him and bowed deeply.

“An honor, Harry Potter, sir, that you would take time out of your busy schedule to visit us here,” the elf beseeched. “How can Dobby assist you?”

“Thank you, Dobby. There was an apple cider punch that was served at Halloween -- would you have the ingredients on hand to make another batch?”

Dobby nodded eagerly. “Would Harry Potter prefer it to be iced or heated?”

“Considering that it has started snowing outside, I think heated would be best.”

“A wise choice. Shall I deliver it to your tower common room?”

“Actually, Dobby, it’s for the Gryffindor victory party that is being held in the main common room. Would you be able to make a cauldron of the stuff?”

“Absolutely.” Dobby had but to snap his fingers before he was surrounded by a number of other elves ready to do his bidding. A few whispered instructions and they were all scurrying off to complete the task. “Is there anything else Dobby can help with today?”

“Well…” Harry hesitated, lowering his voice to a near whisper, “I was just wondering how Kreacher’s been getting along since he came to work here?”

Dobby looked around furtively to make sure that no one was listening and then drew Harry aside to the large hearth were the elves liked to relax. The area was empty at this time of day. Dobby motioned for Harry to bend down so that he could whisper directly into his ear.

“Kreacher had a difficult time adjusting at first. He was much prouder than poor Winky and was at a loss to accept his change of circumstances. But the great wizard Dumbledore personally saw to it that Kreacher was assigned to new duties that befitted his training and he was made in charge of the private teachers’ quarters. Now that the running of Hogwarts has been turned over to the wisest of witches, she has personally assigned him to watch over the needs of Professors Trelawney, Sinistra and Hooch exclusively. He has his own quarters now in another area of the castle.”

So McGonagall was also suspicious of Trelawney, he was gratified to learn. Kreacher’s new assignment practically shouted that. Harry smiled in gratitude and thanked Dobby profusely.

“If you don’t mind me saying, sir,” Dobby whispered, “You can have a flagon of the plain cider delivered to your rooms each morning if you like. It can be deposited in Mr. Ron’s cold cabinet for you.”

“That would be ideal, Dobby,” Harry returned with an even wider smile. “Thank you so much for the suggestion.”

---

Harry returned to the main Gryffindor common room to find that the party was already in full swing, the room reaching capacity as more and more well-wishers kept pouring through the portrait hole. True, each guest had to be accompanied by their Gryffindor host in order for the Fat Lady to admit them, but she had always been prone to shameless flattery if you needed to shepherd a small group past.

Harry found that a steaming cauldron of spiced cider had been deposited on a side table near a small window and went over to serve himself. Only weak afternoon light was filtering though the window as the snow continued to fall steadily outside. A roaring fire had been lit in the huge grate, lending the entire room a ruddy glow.

He wandered over to the main cluster of people that were congregating near the food table, wisely avoiding the boisterous group that included the Gryffindor team with Ginny at its epicenter. Tonks was telling some funny story or other, accompanied by exaggerated arm movements that had everyone in stitches. Largely unnoticed by the others, Harry had an unimpeded view of her and was surprised to see that she was dressed in a broad interpretation of Gryffindor attire. Instead of the customary dark skirt, she had on a loud kilt of red and gold tartan, but the dark jumper trimmed in scarlet, the white button down shirt (albeit with one end fashionably untucked) and the striped tie were pure Gryffindor -- even if the latter had been knotted in an elaborate noose. Of course, that must have been the wager!

Lupin couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her for very long, but managed to greet Harry nonetheless when he walked up behind him.

“You know she can change those colors at will if she so decides,” Harry reminded him.

“Not without incurring a serious penalty,” Lupin replied archly. “I already thought of that.”

“What would she have done to you if Hufflepuff had won?” asked Hermione, joining in on the conversation.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” admitted Lupin, laughing.

“Well, there’s always that loud little skirt she wore when she was passing herself off as a Hufflepuff,” Ron offered with a grin.

“Don’t try to be helpful, Ron, it really doesn’t suit you,” Lupin returned with a wince. “Besides, I could never wear that skirt--”

“�”I’m sure we could get Ginny to let it out a bit for you, Professor,” quipped Harry.

“No, seriously,” Lupin confessed wryly, “I haven’t got the legs for it!”

Once the laughter died down -- it was obvious that a lot of other people had been listening in on their conversation -- Tonks chimed in, “Don’t let them tease you so, Remus. I gave that skirt away to Molly; it was too small for me anyway. She’s wearing it in one of the Halloween photos that are posted in the Entrance Hall.”

Harry remembered now; only Molly had been wearing it in a very goth-like manner, complete with inked in barbed wire tattoos and zombie-like makeup. It had seemed to him at the time that she looked as if she had joined the ranks of the apprentice Death Eaters and couldn’t understand how she had gotten costume approval. On second thought, lots of clubs in big cities looked like they catered to dementors these days, so apparently it was a big fad among Muggles.

Harry encountered the headmistress as she was helping herself to another mug of the cider.

“I understand I have you to thank for the cider, Harry,” she commented with a smile.

“Actually, the original idea came from Professor Slughorn’s refreshment committee,” Harry modestly admitted. “They first served it on Halloween. All I did was go down to the kitchens and order another batch.”

“Well, it certainly hits the spot on a snowy evening, doesn’t it?” she replied.

“Actually, Professor, if you happen by the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta makes an even tastier rendition that incorporates honey mead,” suggested Harry.

“Sounds delightful!” the headmistress agreed. “I must get her recipe.”

Seeing that Robert was among the guests that had been invited, Harry was reminded to offer up a compliment to his Quidditch commentating skills.

“That’s very generous of you, Harry. I’ve been rather pleased with him myself. I almost despaired for finding a worthy successor to Lee Jordan,” McGonagall confessed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must make my farewells to Remus and Tonks before I leave.”

Harry could not hear the headmistress’ comment, but Tonks immediately laughed and lifted up the edge of her jumper to show that the waist of her plaid skirt was safety-pinned. Must have been supplied by McGonagall’s collection of tartans for every occasion, he concluded.

Turning back towards the window, he watched the silent snowflakes continue to fall steadily. The ground was already covered in a white blanket that seemed to stretch past the bare trees into the horizon. It was a scene of serenity and beauty, but one that Harry always associated with desolation as the fruits of the earth became dormant once more.

Harry felt a hand on his arm and turned to find that Hermione had come to stand by his side at the window. Gazing on the transformed landscape below, she leaned companionably on his shoulder and remarked, “Tomorrow will mark the first snowball fights of the season.”

Harry nodded his head, knowing that the white coverlet would be churned full of footprints and sled tracks by noon. “Christmas holidays at the Burrow can’t be far behind, can they?” he added with a grin. “You will be coming along, won’t you?”

“Naturally,” Hermione answered. “My parents have taken a real liking to going skiing over Christmas �“ seems they get a big break on the cost of lift tickets that week. And, well, you know skiing is just not my cup of tea.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know you seem rather preoccupied tonight, but have you taken a moment to congratulate Ginny on her victory today?” Hermione quickly cut off the retort that she knew was brewing by whispering, “She keeps glancing over at you when she thinks you’re not looking in her direction.”

Harry took a good look at the room around him and realized that it must be later than he thought. His attention had been so distracted by the enthusiastic group gathered around Lupin and Tonks that he had failed to notice that a large part of the crowd encircling the Quidditch team had already drifted off. There were still a lot of people in the room, but they had broken off into smaller, more intimate groups. It wouldn’t be too long before the shadowy corners of the room would begin to be staked out by couples, and those seeking more privacy, would be starting their exodus through the portrait hole.

“Thanks for the suggestion, Hermione.” He made himself smile graciously. “I’m thinking about wandering down for some supper myself, so I’ll be sure to catch her on my way out.”

Returning his mug and empty cake plate to the refreshment table, Harry steeled himself inwardly as he casually stopped by the small knot of team members that included Ginny. She noticed him immediately and smiled warmly in his direction.

“That was a rather spectacular catch today,” he offered, smiling in return.

“Thanks, Harry. Can’t say that all those goals by the Hufflepuff team didn’t have me worried for a while there.”

“I knew you’d pull if off in the end,” Harry affirmed, letting her hear the sincerity in his voice. Knowing that to linger too much longer would mean that they would soon run out of Quidditch conversation and wander onto dangerous ground, he turned to walk away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need a bit of supper to counteract the sugar I’ve been consuming all afternoon.”

Harry could feel everyone’s eyes on him. He couldn’t shake the sensation that they were all remembering the exuberant embrace that he and Ginny had shared at the last Gryffindor victory party, right here in this very room. After all, he could hardly think of anything else himself. He kept his head down as he walked out the portrait hole and started to climb up to his tower room. Suddenly, the last thing he felt like doing was eating.

He was almost halfway there when he realized that Ginny had followed him out onto the stairs. Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Ginny, he intoned inwardly. He took a deep breath and turned to face her, trying desperately to keep his face as neutral as possible.

“Isn’t the Great Hall in the other direction?” she began tentatively.

“I needed to drop something off in my room,” he lied.

“Will you come back after supper then? The party’s bound to pick up as others do the same,” she offered, her eyes filled with longing.

Harry shook his head sadly and turned to continue up the stairs.

“Harry, please…”

The entreaty in her voice was so strong that he couldn’t just walk way. Turning back to her, he replied as gently as possible, “Ginny, you know that I will always be here for you if you need me. But right now, I can’t be what you want me to be.”

He didn’t dare to say anymore for fear that his voice would break. Feeling as if he was walking from warm sunshine into utter darkness, he turned his back on her and proceeded through the stone sconce where she could not follow. It took all of his willpower to keep from looking back.

Harry sagged in relief once he heard the stone scone close behind him and then felt his brain yelling, NOOOOOOOO, from inside his skull. He kicked the nearest footstool on the way to his bedroom and the sharp pain was oddly satisfying. Seeing that the rooms were completely deserted, he took the opportunity to slam his bedroom door shut with all the force he could muster. The relief he sought was eluding him. Looking around his room critically, he searched for some object that he could smash against the stone wall of the tower.

His eyes caught the glint of the Omnioculars that he’d left on his dresser before going down to the party. He knew that he would regret smashing those so he settled for snatching them angrily and plopping down to sit on the end of his bed. He recalled that Lupin had mentioned saving some images for him in the replay mode. Perhaps reviewing those would serve as a needed distraction.

Harry twiddled with the controls, trying to remember exactly how they worked, his pent up frustration making him impatient and clumsy. Finally, he was able to coax a blurry image and then adjusted the focus so that it came in better. Figures moving too quickly to be adequately recorded zipped by and then he saw a flash of red and gold that soon resolved itself into Ginny astride her racing broom, intent on the chase and then suddenly pulling up short with the tiny Snitch in her hand. The clip followed her measured descent to the center of the grassy pitch, staying with her as she simply let her broom clatter to the ground. She held her prize aloft, turning to all sides of the stands in turn.

Harry watched the same clip a dozen or more times, finding it oddly soothing that he had a little bit of Ginny that he could truly call his own. Eventually he moved on to the next clip, knowing he would return to the first one again later.

This image was further away and it took a fair amount of fiddling with the focus before he could see that what looked like a cluster of tall chimneys were actually the tallest spires of Hogwarts castle. Abruptly, the image jumped closer as Lupin adjusted the magnification on his end. This caused Harry to have to refocus all over again, returning to the clip’s beginning a number of times to get it right. He was seeing Professor Trelawney atop her tower, scarves blowing in the wind as before. Only this time, he was much closer and could see that she was holding her right hand up to her face and scanning the area in a tight semi-circle. When she turned in profile, Harry suddenly realized that she, too, had some sort of Omniocular device. Without warning, she bent over to pick up something next to her and then the image pitched as if Lupin’s hand had been bumped. When Lupin refocused on the same tower, Trelawney was no longer standing there. Nothing else was recorded.

Strangely muffled through his bedroom door, Harry heard the sound of the sconce opening as if from a distance. Quickly, he hid the Omnioculars in the same drawer where he kept Ginny’s Halloween photo, buried beneath neatly folded jumpers that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him but he had since outgrown.

Peeking out into the common room, he saw that it was Lupin.

“Ah, Harry, I thought I might find you here after I saw you leave the party,” he began. The words ‘and Ginny returned alone’ seemed to float, unacknowledged, in the air between them.

Lupin’s hesitancy prompted Harry to say, “There’s no one else here right now, Professor. You can speak freely.”

Lupin visibly relaxed and then volunteered, “I have the Patronus list that you requested.” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a single yellow post-it note that he pressed onto the surface of the nearest table. It seemed to be covered in illegible squiggles. “Just adhere it to a clean parchment sheet and the data will transfer automatically. Hermione knows the spell in case it messes up and you have to do it over again.”

“Thanks, Professor, I didn’t expect results so soon.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I was only able to get the staff data from the clipboard that Minerva handed me. I will have to get the student data directly from Filch’s office.”

“Do you need to borrow my Map so you can break in when the coast is clear?” Harry inquired with an impish half-smile.

“I thought I might just knock on his door and ask for it politely,” Lupin returned with a laugh, “but thanks for the offer.”

“You think Filch will just hand it to you?” Harry was incredulous.

“Oh, he won’t like it, but he would be hard-pressed to refuse a direct request from one of the teachers.”

“Won’t he turn around and report you to the headmistress?” Harry suddenly remembered Filch’s tactics.

“Absolutely,” Lupin replied airily, “but then all I have to say is that I was double-checking a questionable Patronus that I had seen one of the students produce.”

“Which student?” Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“I’m not sure yet,” he answered with a wink, “but I will pick one from the list.”

Harry was amazed at Lupin’s effortless duplicity. He turned towards the tabletop where the note was affixed only to find that, in that half-second, Lupin’s body was blocking it.

“Please tell me why you need the information.” Harry noted that Lupin was polite enough to phrase it as a request.

“In the simplest terms, I want to know who I’m face to face with if it ever comes down to that,” Harry offered honestly.

“Fair enough,” Lupin conceded, easing away from the table. “You’ll be particularly pleased that I added a section that identifies the Patronuses of all current Order members as well.”

“Including Snape?”

“Double-checked that one with Tonks especially. Did you by any chance get a look at those clips I saved you?” Lupin’s tone was deliberately casual.

“You mean where our Lady of Shallot is looking right back at you? At what point during the match did you record that?”

“About the time you walked away to alert Professor Flitwick.”

“Then I would say, Professor, that she would have had time to signal an accomplice on the ground.”

“That’s pretty much the same conclusion I reached,” Lupin admitted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to get back to Tonks. The students were just starting to return from supper when I left, so I expect the place will be hopping by now. Are you sure I can’t convince you to rejoin the festivities?”

“No thanks, Professor, it’s been a really long day. You go on ahead and enjoy yourself.”

“How could I not?” Lupin’s enthusiasm was practically contagious. “I have the cutest date in the entire room!”

“Professor,” Harry rejoined archly, “need I remind you that she is dressed like a schoolgirl?”

“Yes, I know, I know, and I have all sorts of inner turmoil about that �“ but I think I’ll be all right. As long as she doesn’t call me ‘professor’, that is!”

Harry laughed in spite of himself as Lupin took his leave.

---

Harry was wondering if perhaps he should try to get some supper after all when the sconce opened again to admit Ron and Hermione. They had obviously just been laughing and were practically holding on to one another to keep from falling.

“Oh, hi, Harry,” Hermione offered immediately. “We were wondering where you had gone to.”

“Yeah,” echoed Ron. “Room’s fit to burst downstairs. Thought we might go for a walk in the fresh snow.”

“You know how beautiful it can be when it’s new,” Hermione rhapsodized. “It twinkles like miniature diamonds in the moonlight.”

“Don’t wait around too long,” Harry commented. “That effect only lasts until gravity takes over �“ a few hours at most.”

They were just getting their jackets and scarves when the sconce opened again to admit Neville.

Seeing Ron’s and Hermione’s intent, he cautioned, “I don’t think it’s a good time for a moonlit walk. Didn’t Harry tell you? There’s reason to believe that Severus Snape was on the school grounds during today’s Quidditch match.”

All heads whipped in Harry’s direction and three pairs of eyes implored him for additional facts. “I sighted him on the Marauder’s Map this morning before I went down to the pitch. Lupin passed the word through the proper channels so that the existence of the Map would be protected.”

“I’ll get the details from you later, Harry,” Neville interjected. “Daphne’s waiting for me downstairs; she offered to keep me company while I did rounds tonight.”

Hermione firmly closed the door to the coat closet and joined the other two by the fireplace. “There will be more fresh snow,” she affirmed. “I really don’t think I’m ready to face Snape in a duel yet.”

“It’s not like you would’ve been alone,” Ron reminded her.

“Neither was Harry.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, his black attire would be easier to spot against a white background,” returned Ron.

“Excuse me, guys,” Harry interrupted, “but Snape wasn’t wearing black when I ran into him before �“ and I suspect he’s long gone from the area by now.”

“Any ideas why he was hanging about?” inquired Ron.

“Not really,” Harry admitted, “although I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still tying to get his hands on the Prince’s book.”

“Well, it does look like it was his to begin with,” Ron stated.

“Did you share your theory with Professor Lupin?” Hermione suggested.

“Lupin doesn’t know about the book,” Harry conceded, “at least not the significant parts of the story. I remember asking him last Christmas Eve if he’d known anyone who used the nickname and he suggested I check the date that the book was published as a clue to its original owner.”

“But Harry, Lupin and Snape were classmates. Didn’t you tell me that they were in the same Potions class back then? Slytherin and Gryffindor together, just like now,” Hermione reminded him.

“Doesn’t mean he was close to the greasy-haired git, though,” Ron observed.

“No, it doesn’t,” Harry concurred. “Yet I get the feeling sometimes that he knows a lot more about Snape than he’s willing to admit.”

“You know how tight-lipped Lupin can be,” Hermione noted. “I don’t expect he’ll tell you anything unless he’s good and ready.”

“He did bring me a present this evening, though,” Harry added with a smile, waving the little yellow note. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Harry retrieved a spare sheet of parchment from his desk drawer and then carefully placed the post-it note in the exact center, smoothing the adhesive carefully with his thumb. He had barely touched the edge with his wand when the ink swirls seemed to writhe and spread like vines all over the parchment. In a matter of seconds, the information had transferred and he disposed of the yellow note with a quick incendio from his wand tip. The bottom half of the list had been added in Lupin’s own handwriting.

He rejoined Ron and Hermione by the fireplace where Ron was passing bottles of butterbeer all around. Taking a long swallow, Harry held the parchment up and remarked, “You’ll never guess what this is… Remember the night that we stayed up late thinking of likely Patronuses for everyone we knew? I have the real thing!”

“Lupin gave you that? Blimey!” Ron cried in awe. “I thought we were going to have to steal that from Filch’s office ourselves!”

“Please don’t tell me that’s how Lupin got it,” Hermione added with a sharp laugh. “I’d really rather not know.”

“Any idea what we did with the parchment where we wrote down all our guesses?” asked Ron excitedly. “I recall we had a few good wagers going.”

“No idea,” Harry admitted. “How about you, Hermione?”

“Haven’t a clue. I guess we’ll just have to work from memory then. Go for it, Harry!”

“Well, we already know that Dumbledore’s was a phoenix, Tonks’ is a large wolf and Lupin’s is a giraffe,” Harry began.

“Lupin’s is a giraffe? Really?” Hermione giggled. “Sorry, Harry, I forgot you witnessed that under rather stressful conditions.”

Harry shrugged to show that it was all right, then continued, “Next is Flitwick. Did anyone have him down as a penguin? McGonagall?”

“I think I had her down as some kind of panther,” confessed Ron, pantomiming the sleek movements of a large cat.

“The panther is actually Kingsley Shacklebolt. McGonagall is a striped cat, rather like her Animagus form �“ that’s a rather unusual coincidence.”

“What about Trelawney?” Ron urged excitedly.

“I know I had her down as an owl,” Hermione declared.

“Maybe a near-sighted owl,” returned Ron. “How about a dingbat?”

“That’s not really an animal,” Harry protested.

“I’m not sure if it has to be,” supplied Hermione. “In rare cases, Patronuses can be moving objects as well, or so I read.” Turning to Ron, she specified, “So if we’re going to count that as a valid guess, you’ll have to tell me what a dingbat looks like �“ it does have to be corporeal.”

“You mean someone’s Patronus could be one of those biting teacups that Zonko’s used to sell?” Ron’s tone was wistful.

“Or a portable hangman,” suggested Hermione. “Too bad we don’t have Lucius Malfoy on the list.”

“You have it all wrong,” Ron asserted with fervor. “Lucius Malfoy would be some sort of poisonous viper. Bellatrix Lestrange gets the hangman.”

“Forget Death Eaters, they’re not on the list,” Harry cut in. “Besides, why would you need a Patronus when you can call on a dementor at will? Getting back to the list at hand, would be believe Trelawney is an ostrich?”

Hermione laughed unabashedly. “What about Peter Pettigrew?” she gasped with merriment. “I think he’d make a great Pygmy Puff!”

Ron opined differently. “Termite, more like it.”

“Scorpion,” announced Harry. “Wish we had some of our old teachers on this list. I know we had guesses down for Quirrell, Grubbly-Plank and Lockhart.”

“Lockhart’s a peacock,” Hermione attested. “I know I read that in one of his books.”

“Then it’s probably a lie!” Harry shot back with a chuckle.

“What about Mad-Eye Moody?” Ron asked, going over his mental checklist of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructors.

“Says here that he’s a whale,” Harry read, “and Slughorn’s a rhinoceros.”

“Is Umbridge on there? She’s a bull frog if ever I saw one!” Ron was holding his side by now.

“Sorry. What about your father, Arthur?” Harry asked Ron directly.

“Blimey, I don’t know,” Ron admitted sheepishly.

“Surely it couldn’t be a weasel?” Hermione offered with a giggle.

“Right on the money!” Harry pronounced. “Time for the tie breaker then: Severus Snape?”

“Bat!” yelled Hermione, waving her hand in the air just like she used to do in the classroom.

“Wait, I had bat for him, too.” Ron frowned. “We can’t both pick the same one, can we?”

“I dunno, Ron, I think I wrote bat on that one, also. It was the only one that seemed self-evident to me at the time,” Harry recalled. Then turning the parchment around, he place it on the small table before them. At the bottom of the sheet, Lupin had written:

Severus Snape………..Bat (large)

After much merriment, they finished going down the list of the other names, persons who Harry did not remember having previously considered.

“What a kestrel?” inquired Ron, pointing to Professor Hooch’s name.

“I think it’s a small bird,” Harry replied.

“Actually, it’s a raptor, a bird of prey,” Hermione expounded. “Noble women on horseback used to hunt with them in medieval times. Somehow that romantic image seems to suit Professor Hooch.”

“You think so?” Ron was taken aback. “She always comes across so austere and business-like.”

“That’s only on the outside,” asserted Hermione. “Once you get to know her a bit, you realize that she’s a romantic at heart.”

“What does it say about Mr. Stevens?” Ron implored as he pointedly avoided looking at the list. “Is it too late to vote for gorilla?”

Harry had to scan the list twice before he found the notation, in a smaller hand as if it had been added at the last minute. “That’s interesting,” he noted. “He’s an eagle. Isn’t that a type of raptor, also?”

Seeing that Neville still wasn’t back from his rounds, they decided to give it up for the night. Harry locked the Patronus list in the same drawer as his spare wand before changing into his pajamas. He could still hear faint music and snatches of laughter from the common room below, but it was muffled enough that it just provided a gentle backdrop.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 29
Tea with Hagrid


Harry awakened the next day to the cries of merriment and laughter that always accompanied the season’s first significant snowfall. He took a quick peek out his window and saw that the lawn was already teaming with students. He resisted the urge to search out Ginny; he would see her soon enough at the next practice session with Lupin.

His stomach reminded him rather insistently that he had not had any dinner last night so he wandered down to the Great Hall in search of some breakfast. He settled himself with a hearty plateful at the Gryffindor table and was soon joined by faces that he remembered from yesterday’s party, eager to discuss the Quidditch match and dissect their team’s strengths and weaknesses. Since none of the actual team members were present, it seemed like a harmless enough diversion.

He ran into Ron and Hermione as he was climbing the grand staircase and mentioned that he was going to see Hagrid about taking care of his owl, Hedwig, over the Christmas holidays. Hermione asked if he would mention Crookshanks as well since he always got along surprisingly well with Hagrid’s dog, Fang.

Unable to persuade more than a handful of students to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, the headmistress had stressed that all travel was to be arranged as simply as possible and that no one would be allowed to leave without an escort. Mrs. Weasley had sent them an owl to say that Fred would be retrieving them as it was his week to man the Hogsmeade store, but she had not given them any additional details other than to be ready at four on Friday afternoon.

Since Pigwidgeon was such a tiny bird, Ron would not have much trouble hauling his cage even if they had to travel by the constricting demands of the Floo Network. However, larger animals like Hedwig and Crookshanks would not be so easy to accommodate.

Harry squirmed into his snow gear and set off across the lawn to Hagrid’s cabin, bypassing many spirited snowball fights along the way. After being slammed a number of times in the back, he couldn’t resist taking on the Creevey brothers �“ even though he knew they would gang up on him and he would come out on the losing end.

He was still shaking snow from his collar when he knocked on Hagrid’s massive door.

“Blimey, Harry, yeh gave me an’ Fang a start,” began Hagrid as he enveloped him in a gigantic hug. “Best be getting’ outa yer wet clothes and sittin’ down next ta the fire. How’d yeh manage ta get snow in yer pockets?” he added as he shook Harry’s coat thoroughly before hanging it up on a peg.

Harry grinned at his old friend and remarked, “Snowball fight. Two against one, I lost.”

“Shouldda expected it.” Hagrid nodded as a grin split his wide face. “Can I interest yeh in a cuppa tea? Got some scones, too, fresh made.”

“Just finished a huge breakfast,” Harry demurred, remembering that Hagrid’s baking skills were better suited to brick-making, “but tea would be just great!”

He settled snuggly by the fire, wrapped in a huge blanket that Hagrid had readily supplied. Fang alternated between nudging Harry’s hand to be petted and going up to the front door and sniffing expectantly.

“Don’ pay Fang no heed, Harry,” Hagrid advised as he settled two steaming mugs on the worn tabletop and then retrieved a bottle of honey mead they could use to sweeten it. “Special treat now tha’ yer seventeen an’ all,” he added with a wink.

“Do you suppose there’s someone lurking about outside?” Harry asked, instantly thinking of yesterday’s intruder.

“Heard yeh ‘ad a bit of a ruckus at the match yesterday, Snape bein’ sighted an’ all. But yeh’d ‘ave to be crazy ta get near the school today and Snape’s never been no lunatic. They’s guards all over the place.” Hagrid tilted his massive head towards the front window to emphasize his point.

Harry followed his line of sight and, for the first time saw that there were teachers strategically stationed around the school entrances, keeping careful watch over the playful scene on the lawn.

“Expect we’ll be seein’ Luna soon, though, she usually come by about this time o’ day on the weekend,” Hagrid explained. “She’s my first N.E.W.T. level student, yeh know.”

“That’s great, Hagrid! I hadn’t heard, word just doesn’t get around when you’re not in regular classes anymore. I’m sure she’s great with all the animals.”

“Has an absolute sixth sense about ‘em,” Hagrid agreed. “Even the mos’ skittish respond ta her gentleness.”

“I haven’t seen Luna since Halloween so it will be an unexpected pleasure for me, as well,” Harry offered.

“Just don’ go sayin’ nothin’ about her beau,” Hagrid suggested sagely.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me there, Hagrid.”

“She’s bin comin’ 'round more regular like since her boyfriend, Robert; seems ta be lookin’ elsewhere.”

“You mean, Robert Anderson, who does the Quidditch commentary?”

“Yeah, tha’s the one, the one wit’ the deep voice,” whispered Hagrid, looking furtively out the window. “They’s bin goin’ out, as yeh kids say, since October but lately she says he’s like in his own little world. Losin’ interest, I says. Jus’ don’ say I’s told yeh nothin’.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry replied, thinking how he’d been seeing Robert all over the place lately, but always alone.

“Ah, there she is.” Hagrid nodded towards the window as Fang starting whimpering softly at the door. Harry could see a small bundled shape with long blond hair starting to make her way down the long sloping lawn to Hagrid’s cabin.

“Before she gets here then, Hagrid,” Harry began, “I wanted to ask if you would take special care of Hedwig for me over the holidays?”

“O’ course, Harry. Headmistriss’ got yeh travelin’ on restrictions. Does Hermione need me ta see ta Crookshanks, as well?”

“That’d be great, Hagrid,” Harry smiled gratefully. “Ron’s set to take Pig with him, though, since he’s so tiny.”

“I understand. Jus’ tell Ron, though, if he has a change o’ plans, ta let me know. Two owl’s just like takin’ care o’ one.”

“Thanks again, Hagrid,” Harry started to say but was drowned out by Fang’s feverish barking, followed by a knock on the door.

“Hi, Luna,” Harry volunteered, then got up to give her a much deserved hug. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Harry,” she replied in her trademark wistful manner. “Last time was at Halloween, wasn’t it?”

“That was a great costume you wore �“ made quite an entrance, too,” he recalled fondly. “Not to mention that Professor Lupin was absolutely in awe of your table decorations.”

Luna smiled dreamily as Hagid handed her a steaming mug and placed sugar and cream on the table. “Professor Lupin is such a dear man,” she remarked. “He notices the tiniest details about everything; always had something nice to say about everyone. It must be wonderful to have him as an advisor.”

“We get along pretty well,” Harry conceded, not certain what to make of her assessment of Lupin. “If you don’t mind me changing the subject, though, I wanted to ask Hagrid about a more personal matter…about the night my parents died.”

“Oh, would you rather I gave you some privacy?” Luna asked immediately.

“Not at all, Luna, I wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind getting your viewpoint on a problem I’ve been struggling to solve.”

Luna nodded in understanding and then uttered the last words that Harry expected, “You must mean the Godric’s Hollow Conundrum.”

Harry’s mind swirled in turmoil. He and Luna had often shared an uncanny empathy, but this was beyond that. “Luna….how?” he stammered, unable to put the rest of his unfinished thoughts into words.

“Professor Flitwick is my Head of House,” she explained gently. “He’s been studying the Conundrum for years. It’s a unique permutation of the Fidelius Charm.”

“I always said yeh was famous, Harry,” Hagrid commented.

“Are you telling me that the circumstances of my parents’ deaths, my personal tragedy, has been reduced to a textbook exercise?” Harry could not believe what he was hearing. He downed the rest of his tea, hoping that the upraised mug would hide the anger that he could feel forming behind his eyes.

“Harry, you misunderstand. While the Professor has devoted many hours to the study of the Conundrum, it would never be the subject of a classroom discussion. He only shared a fragment of his research with me because he knew I was your friend �“ and I had to beg for that,” Luna clarified, holding Harry’s gaze in that forthright way of hers.

It was the earnestness in her eyes that finally convinced Harry enough to mutter, “I’m sorry, Luna, I over-reacted. The whole situation has me a bit frustrated.” Harry nodded when Hagrid offered to refill his tea, but shook his head to adding any more honey mead.

“Please share with me what you learned,” Harry pleaded, steeling himself inwardly.

“Firstly, the Fidelius Charm is not meant to last indefinitely without having to be recast. The fact that it has lasted sixteen years is unprecedented even though the Secret-Keeper is still living. Common belief is that the Charm would expire upon the death of the person who cast it, but that hasn’t happened either. The Professor is of the opinion that, in this case, the spell was cast by your mother who he remembers as an exceptionally talented witch with a special gift for charms. There are others who believe that the Charm had to have been cast by someone of Dumbledore’s skill to have survived as it has.”

“It couldn’t have been Dumbledore, or he would have known that they had substituted Pettigrew as the Secret-Keeper at the last minute �“ and he didn’t. That’s one fact that I know for certain,” supplied Harry.

“Yes and Professor Flitwick agrees with that,” Luna continued. “The Charm also becomes naturally weakened the more people know the secret; but in this case, it is believed that no more than three or four people actually knew.”

“Lupin thinks that it was actually no more than two,” Harry added. “Did anyone ever think to consult Dumbledore about this issue? His opinion would have been invaluable.”

Luna nodded in agreement. “He suggested that because it was so newly cast, the Charm was somehow strengthened by your mother sacrificing herself to save your life. That it was basically bound up in the old magic that no one has really studied in hundreds of years.”

“Other than prying the secret from Pettigrew, which I admit has its appeals, any ideas on how I could visit my parents’ home?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Only to find someone else who knows the secret,” Luna answered sadly. “Harry, are you sure you want me to continue?”

“You mean there’s more? I take it, it’s not good news.” Harry sighed. “You might as well finish it, Luna.”

“Assuming that the secret is not revealed to you in some way, it is theorized that the house will only become visible after your death. I’m sorry, Harry.” Luna’s eyes glistened as she finished in barely a whisper, “Others believe that all blood ties must expire, which would also include the death of your mother’s sister, your cousin, and any other blood relations.”

“It’s just Aunt Petunia and Dudley, my cousin,” Harry clarified.

“Tha’ could always change in the future, Harry,” Hagrid suggested. “It sounds like they’re takin’ about decades here.”

“Tell me then, Hagrid, how were you able to retrieve a baby from within the rubble of an invisible house that night?” Harry posed. “This is the part of the story where I always get confused.”

“I never thought about that.” Luna perked up, suddenly realizing that this was a new angle. “Based on Professor Flitwick’s analysis, Harry should still be trapped inside the secret location �“ unless he walked out himself. Were you walking at that age, Harry?”

“Harry woulda been too young ta walk outta tha’ mess,” Hagrid replied. “Dumbledore musta had spies watchin’ the house, or the general area, cuz he knew wot had happened almost immediately after the Dark Mark had lit up the sky. Then he sends for me, says, ‘Hagrid, I need you to perform a sad duty tonight, and it must be you, my friend, as only your giant’s blood will allow you to go where others cannot.’ I’ve never seen Dumbledore lookin’ so solemn an’ sad. So he takes me there by Apparition, side-along style, wors’ sensation o’ me life. Must have been the middle o’ night by then, all Godric’s Hollow is quiet, so quiet yeh’da thought there was only ghosts. He leads me like he’s blindfolded, can’t hardly find his bearin’s and finally points in the general direction o’ wot I take to be yer parents’ house. Only there isn’t nothin’ there, just a dark hole in the air, blacks out the sky behind it so no stars shine through. It looks like the mouth o’ the underworld itself, but when Dumbledore asks me to describe wot I sees, he tells me it’s just the way the charm looks ta one who’s only half affected by it. Then he bids me ta go forth, inta that darkness and see wot I can find. I don’ have ta tell yeh I was terrified, not knowin’ wot dark fiend I would find lurkin’ in wait. But for Dumbledore’s sake, I do it. As I get closer, the darkness seems ta recede a bit as if there’s a portion along its edge that’s jus’ in shadow and there I finds a baby �“ yeh, Harry �“ cryin’ silently, his forehead a mass o’ dryin’ blood. I looks ‘round a bit more along the edges, where the shadow seem ta waiver, and among the bits o’ plaster an’ broken brick, I finds a photo album �“ the one that I gave yeh after yer first year, remember?”

“Then what happened, Hagrid?” Harry urged softly. “At what point did Sirius arrive and beg Dumbledore to turn me over to him? To turn me, his godson, over to his godfather.”

Hagrid took a few swallows of cold tea and then continued sadly, “Dumbledore takes me with baby Harry in me arms ta another house in the village. Don’ rightly remember where, I was bone tired by then, it had ta be close ta dawn. He’s inna right state, Dumbledore is, pacin’ back and forth from one end o’ the room ta the other as if he’s goin’ ta burn a hole through the carpet. I musta dozed off, cuz next thing it’s mornin’ and I’m woken up by the sound o’ a loud motorbike outside. Dumbledore says I’m not ta go outside the house and not ta let the baby out o’ me arms �“ yeh was sound asleep by then. So I stands just inside the door where I can see wot’s transpirin’ outside but still remain in the shadows. Dumbledore goes out ta meet Sirius who looks half-mad wit' grief, staggerin’ ‘round like a drunkard, musta woken up half the neighborhood. Sirius is beggin’, he’s pleadin’, he practically throws himself prostrate on the ground. Not that it woulda made any difference, Dumbledore tells him, he will not turn over Harry ta the man who just betrayed his parents. Very slowly, Dumbledore walks back inside the house and closes the door behind him. Then he collapses in the nearest chair as if all the air’s been taken outta him. I’m standin’ there lookin’ out the front window; Sirius is sobbin’ in a heap on the front lawn and Dumbledore’s cryin’ silently in the chair for the longest time. Finally Dumbledore calls softly ta me and asks if he can hold the baby now. Then he asks me if I will please go outside and see if Sirius has any statement ta make before the authorities arrive.

“He was a broken man, Sirius was. It weren’t the years he spent in Azkaban that broke him, but tha’ moment there when Dumbledore turned his back on him. All he could keep sayin’ was, ‘Hagrid, tell him I’m innocent, I’m innocent.’ Then finally he stands up wit’ a shudderin’ breath an’ announces, ‘Fine, I will bring back proof of my innocence if it’s my final act,’ and the madness recedes a bit from his eyes only ta be replaced by a determination so fierce tha’ the madness seems preferable in comparison. Then he says ta me, all quiet like, ‘You can keep the motorbike, Hagrid, I know you’ve always admired it. I won’t be needing it where I’m going.’ Then he Disapparates. The rest o’ the story yeh already knows, Harry.”

“Here, let me get you some more tea, Hagrid,” offered Luna as she heated up the water with her wand.

Harry felt numb as he watched Hagrid withdraw a large checkered handkerchief from his pocket and wipe his eyes. “I’m sorry I put you through that again, Hagrid,” he offered, feeling as if no words could compensate for the ordeal.

“It’s nothin’, Harry,” Hagrid mumbled as he continued to dab his face. “I knew yeh’d be wantin’ ta hear that story sooner or later, ‘specially now that neither Dumbledore nor Sirius is here ta fill in the blanks for yeh.”

“Let me go get some mint for the tea,” Luna volunteered brightly. “I know where there’s a teeny patch that’s been protected from the cold and snow under the back of the cabin. We could all use a bit of soothing right now.” She quickly jumped up and grabbed her coat in one motion, almost making it out the door before Harry noticed that her face was also wet with tears.

“So tell me, Harry, how’s Ron and Hermione been?” Hagrid asked, attempting to steer the conversation in a less stressful direction.

“Well, they keep to themselves mostly these days. Now that they’re officially going out together, as you like to put it.”

“Really? How long has tha’ bin?” Hagrid inquired in a friendly manner.

“Well, if you ask me, I think it started somewhere around the beginning of the last school year,” Harry commented wryly. “But I think they finally admitted it to themselves sometime around this September or October.”

“They drove yeh crazy in the meanwhile, didn’t they?” Hagrid chuckled.

“More than you’ll ever know,” acknowledged Harry.

“So how’s it been goin’ for yeh? Yeh still seein’…” Hagrid broke off, seeing the look that crept into Harry’s eyes.

Harry could not lie to his friend, but there were no longer any words to describe the anguish he felt over Ginny. He simply shook his head morosely.

“I’m sorry ta hear it, Harry,” commiserated Hagird. “Sometimes the timin’s just not right. I believe that’s Luna comin’ back wit’ the mint.”

As quixotic as Luna’s idea about mint tea seemed at first, Harry had to admit that it was very effective. For the first time all day, it seemed like his head was clear and every icy breath was newly scrubbed as he walked back towards the castle. Hagrid ploughed on ahead so he could relieve Professor Sinistra who’d been watching over the back lawn, so Harry was left to accompany Luna at a more leisurely pace.

It always surprised him that he found it so easy to talk to Luna even when they spoke of nothing in particular. Remembering what Hagrid had said about her being at loose ends, he was struck with sudden inspiration.

“Luna, you know we really haven’t worked together since the D.A.,” Harry began.

“I really miss those days sometimes,” she responded dreamily.

“Well, I’ve been training a bit with Ron, Hermione and Neville. Just dueling stuff in case we ever get attacked again--”

“I heard about the ambush by Snape.” Luna nodded.

“Would you like to join our group? It’s all hush-hush and we only meet one evening a week, but I’m sure you would be a welcome addition.”

“Will we be meeting in the Room of Requirement?” she asked hopefully.

“Just like old times,” Harry assured her. “We’ll be starting back after the holidays.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Luna smiled beatifically in return.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 30
Perceptions and Reality


Hermione was ecstatic about the news that Professor McGonagall would be taking over as her faculty advisor at of the beginning of the new term in January.

“I thought you liked Professor Hooch,” commented Ron.

“I do,” Hermione admitted, “but McGonagall is just so much more….so much more like what I imagined in the first place.”

“Do you mean to say that the headmistress is likely to set a more ambitious course of study?” Harry suggested.

“Exactly. Thanks for coming to my rescue, Harry.”

He smiled indulgently and replied, “Glad to do it. We all get tongue-tied in moments of excitement.”

“Do you think I could get her to set me an assignment to work on over the holidays?” she asked, her eyes glittering with excitement.

“Just don’t try to track her down today, Hermione,” ventured Harry. “There’s a lot going on behind the scenes.” He explained what he had seen on his way back from Hagrid’s.

“Blimey, they’re watching us like prisoners in the yard!” Ron asserted.

“I think they’re just being cautious,” Harry observed.

“I’ll just jot down a few ideas in the meanwhile then,” Hermione decided, undeterred from her immediate mission. She left the common room for the privacy of her bedroom with a definite bounce in her step.

“Mental,” Ron declared for perhaps the hundredth time. “Imagine wanting a homework assignment over the Christmas holidays.”

“Ron, how long have you known Hermione now?” Harry asked rhetorically. “These things should no longer surprise you.”

When Neville returned later that afternoon, Harry took the opportunity to explain that he had run into Luna while visiting Hagrid and that he had invited her to join their dueling sessions in January.

“Just making sure no one objects,” Harry clarified.

“Fine with me,” Ron agreed as Hermione nodded her assent.

“I’ve always liked working with Luna,” confessed Neville, “She’s so non-judgmental.”

“Good.” Harry nodded. “Looks like she’s going to be a welcome addition then. My only concern is: how do we communicate with her about the sessions? They do tend to get shuffled around everyone’s schedule a lot.”

“Got it covered,” Neville stated with conviction. “I can always get a hold of Luna.” He laid his right hand meaningfully on his Head Boy insignia.

Of course, Harry thought, he should have made the connection sooner. The Head Boy would always have a direct way to contact the Prefects.

---

With the first snowfall setting the proper mood, the entire school was overcome with Christmas fever and decorations were being strung everywhere. Hermione undertook the transformation of their common room with a tenaciousness that Harry had not seen since she was studying for her O.W.L. exams.

“We’ll be leaving for the Burrow at the end of the week,” Ron complained as he tried to coax her down from a ladder.

“Doesn’t matter,” she replied airily. “Neville’s staying at school and I wanted to do something special for him.”

“He’s only staying because Daphne is,” Ron commented.

“All the more reason his living area should be presentable!”

Harry did his part by procuring some mistletoe sprigs from Professor Sprout and then had to wrestle them from Ron who was determined to hang them in the doorway of each bedroom to see who would get zapped first.

To her credit, Hermione just laughed when she heard about his plan. “Just because Fred and George aren’t at school any more doesn’t mean that you have to honor their legacy, Ron!”

Hagrid brought them a row of tiny evergreen trees that they could line up on the mantelpiece. In thanks, Hermione taught him the spell that would add little twinkling lights and made sure that he had mastered it with his umbrella-wand.

Lupin’s inner office had been festooned with a pine bough garland across the hearth and baskets of cinnamon-scented pine cones to throw into the fire.

“I had to stop Tonks from going overboard,” Lupin noted with a merry laugh, “or we’d have had to shovel the magical snow out the window at the end of each day!”

So it came as no surprise to Harry that the Room of Requirement had also been decked out in Christmas finery. He remembered that Dobby had taken it upon himself to do the honors for the D.A. meetings, but what he found today showed a more restrained hand. The mantel was adorned with a long row of small candles set in deep crimson bowls, a wreath of variegated holly hung on the stone wall above.

It did not initially register with him that Ginny was already present until he saw movement from the far side of the room. She was not dressed in her usual school robes but had donned a festive shirt of deepest green velvet that seemed to reflect and absorb the firelight in turn as she moved. She pulled out two bottles of butterbeer from a large iced tub and handed one to him.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” she offered as she toasted him with the bottle.

Harry smiled back, feeling the first bit of holiday cheer begin to creep into his heart. “Lupin’s not here yet? I was running a few minutes late myself.”

“The Professor’s been detained,” Ginny replied knowingly.

“I didn’t think you signed up for Divination classes �“ or did you just Confund him as you passed by his office?”

“Neither, although that second idea has merit,” she noted with a silvery laugh. “He was in the middle of a snowball fight in the courtyard as I passed.”

“Are you serious?” Harry joined in; he had absolutely no trouble visualizing the scene. They probably had him pinned four-to-one and he was giving them his best shots �“ and losing track of the time for certain. “Was he winning?”

“Hard to say, everyone was laughing so hard!”

“I don’t suppose we can dock him any house points for this, can we?” Harry pondered with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“That’s for amateurs, I’m sure we can think of something better.”

“You mean like Ron’s decorating tips for mistletoe?” Harry offered as he outlined Ron’s idea for their common room.

Ginny doubled over with laughter. “Oh, that’s rich! I better write that one down. So who got hit with the stinging hex first? Or can I still put down a wager?”

“There’s not much to work with there, Ginny. Ron and Hermione are probably the most likely, but Ron doesn’t strike me as the type to allow himself to be stung just to play a practical joke.”

“You’re right. Fred and George: definitely; but Ron: no. So that’s even odds. What about Neville?” she asked hopefully.

“He’s still seeing Daphne, but he never actually brings her to our common room so we don’t really know.”

“He might when no one else is there, so that’s a two to one shot.”

“They’re both staying at school over the holidays so I guess that turns out to be a much better gamble in the long run. I think I’ll put my money on that one,” Harry decided merrily.

“You’re not going to bet on yourself?” she asked, her expression suddenly unreadable.

“I’m the long shot, Gin; no ties, no commitments,” he tried to make his tone as carefree as possible, but his voice just trailed off. The room was beginning to feel a little too confining.

“See that’s the thing about long shots: you can lose everything or you can win big.” She was speaking so softly that her lips were barely moving. “It all depends upon how much you’re willing to risk.”

How did he let himself get trapped like this? The argument in his brain was raging full force as he watched Ginny move closer. Or had he been the one to approach her? She was so near he could see the amber flecks in her eyes…

He didn’t even realize he had closed his eyes in anticipation until he heard the noise of the door opening and Lupin’s jovial voice announced, “Sorry, I’m late. Got caught up in a monstrous snow battle; half the school must have been there by the time we got finished!”

Lupin was still shaking the snow out of his scarf and jacket, not really paying attention to the scene before him. If only they could look nonchalant before he actually looked up.

“I hope you didn’t start without--” Lupin’s words died out as he looked from one face to the other.

Surely, they’d been quick enough, Harry thought to himself, they’d even had extra seconds to move apart. But he could tell by Lupin’s expression that he had seen enough to put the pieces together. Harry stood rooted to the spot, unsure what he should do next, his heart hammering.

Lupin recovered first and simply offered, “You probably want a few more minutes to warm up. I’ll be outside in the corridor.”

As he turned to leave, Harry was finally able to unglue his limbs and run towards the door. “Professor, please, don’t leave,” he pleaded. “I’m ready for class to start!”

Lupin turned and gave him such a quizzical look that Harry was chagrined to add, “Ginny was just being….a distraction.”

He heard the unmistakable sound of Ginny sighing and lowering herself into the nearest chair. “I’m ready, too,” she volunteered by way of an apology. “There’s butterbeers in the basin there. Holiday cheer and all!”

“I can see that,” Lupin replied warily as he made his way toward the hearth and snagged himself a bottle.

Harry could tell by the way Lupin kept examining each of them like specimens under a microscope, that it was his intent to make them squirm. Harry wasn’t much for that game so he assumed the same bravado he’d seen Lupin feign before and intoned, “Sorry we started without you, Professor. You can call the next round.”

Ginny nearly choked on her butterbeer, she was trying so hard not to laugh. Harry could see her purposely avoiding any eye contact to keep her resolve from crumbling.

Lupin took his time, fully knowing that all eyes were on his every move. After a long swallow of butterbeer, he set the half-empty bottle down on the side table purposefully and stated, “Neither one of you has the slightest bit of shame.”

Harry shrugged in reply as Ginny quipped, “Born without that gene.”

“How about we stay a bit longer this afternoon and see if we can make up for lost time then?” Lupin suggested. “Is that all right with everyone?”

---

It turned out to be particularly productive practice session. The back-to-back spells finally felt like they were flowing naturally so the three of them were able to work out some new variations. Lupin suggested they try visualizing a snowball fight and the resulting playfulness, coupled with a no-holds-barred attitude, culminated in a rollicking workout. Lupin ambushed Harry and Ginny during the last round and turned it into a three-way fight that had them all collapsing in laughter on the floor cushions. The last butterbeers were consumed as they critiqued each other freely.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Ginny began, “I’ve still got a few class assignments to finish so I’d better put in a little time in the library before supper. Happy Christmas, Professor.”

“Tonks and I will be by the Burrow before Christmas, Ginny,” Lupin reminded her.

“I know, but you can never have too much Christmas cheer,” she affirmed as she gave Lupin a quick hug in parting.

“Will I see you at supper later, Harry?” she asked from the door.

“Probably,” Harry replied noncommittally.

“Before you leave, Harry, I’d like a word,” Lupin specified.

Harry had been expecting it. There was no point in denying anything that Lupin had seen for himself, regardless of how unintentional it had been. He took the chair opposite the fireplace and began, “I’m sorry you had to walk in on that �“ I was out of line.”

“You misunderstand me, Harry,” Lupin explained in a kindly manner. “I just wanted to know which one of you summoned the room today.”

“Ginny did. I think she brought the decorations and the butterbeer as well, but all that was already completed when I arrived.”

“So I can conclude that there was no intent from her to undermine the protocols. What about on your part?”

“If I’d known she was here all alone and that you were going to be delayed another ten minutes, I think I would have waited for you in the corridor,” Harry replied honestly.

“Excuse me, please, but that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, you’re just not seeing the whole picture.”

“Stop, Harry, no more! Your personal life is none of my business nor is it something that I should be discussing with you.”

“Then stop thinking about it in terms of teacher and student and talk to me as my friend!” Harry could feel himself beginning to lose the battle to keep his voice calm and steady.

“I’m not sure that’s a line we should be cross--”

“Why? Because we haven’t crossed it a thousand times before? There’s no line here, Remus, there’s just you and me in an empty room!”

“All right, Harry, I’ll concede the point for the time being. Tell me what it is that has you so keyed up then. Because it was not my intent to censure you for trying to steal a kiss under the mistletoe!”

“No, I would have done that all by myself had you not walked in when you did.”

“Whatever for? Harry, you’re not making any sense.”

Harry took a deep breath and charged ahead, reminding himself to paint everything in broad brushstrokes. “Forget your preconceived notions, forget what you think you’ve seen. Just remember this: Ginny and I are not a couple, we will never be a couple, not as long as Voldemort is out there targeting everyone that I hold most dear.”

“Harry, it’s not as bad as all that--”

“Yes, it is! Dumbledore didn’t share his little summary of how Sirius was specifically targeted by Voldemort, did he? I didn’t think so. Kreacher’s disjointed ramblings allowed them to establish that I was the one person that Sirius cared about most and then they used me as bait to lure him into leaving Grimmauld Place. So Dumbledore takes me under his wing and then, bam!, he becomes the next target. Don’t you see where this is headed?”

“By your reasoning, everyone that you associate with is in danger. Ron, Hermione, Neville �“ even myself.”

“It’s true, I spend more time with you than with anyone else. But I daresay, you’re not as likely to be a target because they’re not seeing beyond the broad designations here. Advisor just doesn’t imply the same closeness as godfather, mentor, or girlfriend. So I vowed as I sat there at Dumbledore’s funeral that the one thing out of all of this that I could control was who I selected as a girlfriend. When the service ended, I told Ginny that it was over between us, that there could never be anything between us, not as long as there were those who would target her. I decided that whatever I had to endure in the process would be preferable to seeing her dead because of me.”

“You broke up with Ginny at Dumbledore’s funeral?”

“I know it sounds pretty callous when you phrase it like that, but there was no telling how soon they would start to seek out their next target.”

“But Harry, I see you with her all the time. How is this breaking up with her?”

“Unfortunately, my life’s become too intertwined with hers because of Ron and Hermione and being friends with her family, as well. But you must believe me, I don’t go seeking her out, the time we spend together is extremely limited, and I do my best to keep things on a strictly friendly basis.”

“That’s not what I saw today--”

“What you saw today was a moment of weakness on my part, a situation that I should have avoided. You witnessed the argument that I wage within myself daily; the argument between what I want more than anything on this earth and the only path I know will prevent it from being killed.”

Lupin carefully considered Harry’s words, then very quietly he remarked, “There has to be another answer.”

“I sure hope so, Remus, because this is tearing me apart inside.”

“Tell you what, why don’t we have a nice supper sent up to my office and we can hash this out some more?”

“What about Tonks? Don’t you usually dine with her?”

“Tonight she’s with the Hufflepuffs. I could do with a bit of company myself.”

---

“Please make yourself at home, Harry,” Lupin offered as he ushered him into the inner office. The last of the setting sun could be seen through the small mullioned window as Lupin sent a spark towards the hearth so that the fire blazed brightly.

“I would offer you the hospitality of my private residence if I could, but unfortunately, the barrier is impenetrable,” Lupin commented. “Now if you’ll give me a moment, I will see about ordering us some food.”

Lupin exited by the door on the other side of the hearth as Harry hung up his school robes and scarf, then unknotted his tie and added it to the peg. Untucking his shirt, he settled into the leather armchair nearest the fire and propped his feet on the footstool. As he settled back, he saw the far door open slightly and two small faces peek out momentarily at him. He smiled when he realized that they were house-elves.

Lupin returned in his stocking feet, having changed into a casual jumper himself. “Dinner should be here shortly. Good, you’ve made yourself comfortable. I should see to--”

“Sit, Professor, I daresay you’ve had a longer day than I have,” Harry proclaimed with a deep sigh. “Just relax.”

Lupin sank into the chair gratefully, then noted, “You know, Harry, it’s not necessary to return to formalities just yet…”

“All right, if that’s what you prefer, Remus. It still seems awkward to me.”

“So practice,” Lupin returned with an offhanded smile.

“Tell me then, Remus, what are your plans for the holidays? I take it you’re going to spend them with Tonks’ family?”

“Don’t remind me, Harry. I’m dreading it enough as it is.”

“Don’t you like Tonks’ parents?” Harry asked as casually as possible.

“I’ve never met Tonks’ parents,” Lupin confessed, “and I’m not sure how they will take to the fact that their daughter is married to a….well, you know.”

“You mean a Gryffindor or just to another Hogwarts teacher?” Harry replied, grinning.

“Exactly,” Lupin rejoined with a sharp laugh.

“I’m sure it will be fine, Remus. I can’t imagine them not liking you.”

“Thanks, Harry. Sure I can’t convince you to come along, provide a bit of moral support? You could avoid all the distractions at the Burrow as well.”

Harry laughed. “As tempting an offer as it is to watch you squirm first-hand, I think I’ll pass.”

With a sharp crack Dobby Apparated directly in front of the fireplace.

“It’s true then, Harry Potter is dining with Professor Lupin. I could not believe it when the other elves told me it was so.” Dobby beamed.

“Good to see you, too, Dobby,” Harry replied, noting Lupin’s amused expression in the background. “The cider punch that you made us for the victory party was a great success. The headmistress herself said so.”

“You are too kind, sir.” Dobby bowed deeply. “Anyway, dinner is served in the next room.” With a snap of his fingers, Dobby Disapparated �“ only to reappear on the other side of the room holding the far door open invitingly.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Harry mumbled to Lupin in passing, “I indirectly helped him to gain his freedom and he’s been like this ever since.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 31
A Different Perspective


The far door led to a small private dining room with a semi-circle of windows facing out over the lawn. A comfortable seat cushion wrapped itself directly beneath the windows and would make for a very bright and airy room during the day. Currently, however, the treetops and the elaborate front gates to the school were silhouetted against the violet sky.

“Do you and Tonks always dine like this?” Harry asked, noting that the table had been set with crisp white linens and crystal. An elaborate candelabra of entwined wooden branches provided a festive glow.

“No, we don’t. I believe this is Dobby’s doing, isn’t it?” Lupin replied, looking directly at the house-elf.

“Special amenities for Yuletide, sir,” Dobby replied with a small nod of his head. “There’s also decanters of cold pumpkin juice and sparking cider. Please let me know if you change your minds about dessert.” With a snap of his fingers and a loud pop Dobby Disapparated.

The minute they sat themselves at the table, the plates of food appeared before them. This was clearly not what was being served in the Great Hall. The aroma was absolutely tantalizing.

“I hope you like it,” offered Lupin. He took a preliminary bite which was followed by a blissful expression on his face. “It’s Dover sole. It was a great favorite of James and Lily.”

Harry had never tasted anything so delicate, so sublime in his life. After paying his compliments, he added, “Can teachers always have food like this specially prepared?”

“On a limited basis �“ it’s a privilege I rarely invoke. Our usual fare runs more to sandwiches in front of the fire or whatever is being served in the Great Hall. Tonks is particularly fond of the desserts, but since the Hufflepuffs are having their Christmas party tonight, I’m sure the kitchen is already inundated with special requests for baked Alaska, chocolate soufflé cake, and pumpkin crème brulée �“ and those are just from Tonks!”

It was an extremely satisfying meal, made more so by the absence of boundaries and pretexts between them. The conversation flowed freely, punctuated with many of Lupin’s pithy observations that made Harry laugh. When the last drip of sauce had been lovingly sponged from the plate, Harry laid his last bit of bread next to his utensils and pushed himself back from the table.

“I don’t remember ever having a more delicious meal,” Harry commented.

“I’m glad,” Lupin returned with a broad smile. “I don’t get many opportunities to entertain.”

As a last minute thought, Lupin lifted a heavy glass decanter from the side table and took it with them into the outer room. From the doorway, he whispered, “Nox!” to extinguish the candles. He poured generous measures into two glasses and handed one to Harry. Then Lupin settled himself into this favorite armchair and stretched his legs languidly in front of the fire.

Catching Harry’s eye, Lupin held up his glass in a toast and intoned, “To Gryffindor!”

Of course, Harry thought as he took a sip of the deep red liquid. It was surprisingly sweet and nutty with a rich aroma that seemed to envelope him in warmth.

“Surely, this isn’t brandy like my uncle Vernon drinks?” Harry inquired.

“Dumbledore used to prefer brandy, as well. But my taste runs more to port �“ in this case, ruby port.”

Harry let the pleasant sensations of the fire and the port relax him until he felt like he was floating. He vaguely wondered what time it was and whether dinner was over in the Great Hall, but then decided it didn’t really matter.

“As to the situation we discussed earlier,” Lupin began earnestly, “I’ve given it a bit of thought over dinner and I think that what you’re feeling has a lot to do with unresolved grief.” Harry was about to respond, but Lupin waved him off. “Hear me out and you’ll see why I came to that conclusion. Three murders in three years and you, Harry, were standing next to each of the victims. That’s a lot for anyone to process. In addition to that, you’re no longer sharing most daily classes with your two best friends, the ones that you have confided in for the last six years, so your support system is crumbling. Any attempts to create a new source of comfort are hindered by the conviction that you would just be creating another target. So basically, you’ve cut yourself off emotionally from just about everyone; so is it surprising that you feel lost? Not at all.”

“Assuming your assessment is correct, Remus, how do you propose I find my way back?”

“Well, that’s the funny thing about grief,” Lupin replied thoughtfully, “it has its own timetable and you just have to work through it in the manner in which it presents itself… A case in point: when I was about your age, my parents passed away within months of each other. There was nothing violent about their deaths, but it hit me pretty hard nonetheless. For months on end, I felt like I was adrift with no direction. When I returned to school after my mother’s funeral �“ she was the last to pass away �“ it was as if everyone else, James, Sirius and even Peter, went back to their Technicolor world, and even though I was standing right next to them, my world was shrouded in shadows. In the end, it was a very wise person who took me aside and told me that I could either dwell in the land of shadows �“ the land of death �“ or I could make a conscious decision to return to the land of the living.” Harry could tell by the deliberate manner in which Lupin was choosing his words just how much emotional drain this story was causing him. “Those that we had lost were beyond our reach, regardless, and staying in the land of death would not bring them back, even though it might make us feel like we were closer to them spiritually. But the only way to put those deaths behind you, to get on with your life, to feel happiness again, was to choose to return to the land of the living. It didn’t mean that you valued those you had lost any less, it just meant that you were not going to honor them by burying yourself in the same grave.”

“Were those Dumbledore’s words?” Harry had to ask.

Lupin shook his head, smiling in a sad manner that seemed to come from miles away. “No, Harry, the advice came from your mother, Lily…. So I suppose I would have to say that I am passing this bit of motherly advice from her to you as best I can.”

Harry was stunned for a moment then followed up with, “What makes you think that this applies so aptly to my current situation, though?”

“Firstly, because the sense of loss for those who have passed away and the longing for that which we feel we cannot have are very similar emotions. Both are jumbled up with feelings of unfairness, unworthiness, and regret. The fact that you say you have made a conscious decision to turn Ginny away, but yet you don’t actually do it, or you do it sometimes and then only half-heartedly, are all elements of indecision �“ the inability to move on. Indecision dwells in the land of death, Harry; it may feel like it hurts less in the short run, but it will never bring you the happiness that you seek.”

“But, Remus, I have made a decision. My decision is that I will interact with Ginny as a friend only.”

“Because it hurts too much to turn away? That’s just avoidance. Your premise has an inherent contradiction, you will never be able to treat her as a friend simply because that’s not how you feel about her. Admit it, a saintly martyr could not walk that tightrope.”

It was with a heart-rendering realization that Harry concluded that Lupin was right. He didn’t know how the man had ever worked his way through the maze of shadows and contradictions, but there was no denying that his words had the unmistakable ring of truth.

“So you’re telling me that all I have to do is make a decision -- one way or the other?”

“Essentially. You also have to successfully convey that to Ginny and you have to stick by it. That’s not to say you can’t later say, ‘I’ve been wrong, I’ve been a fool,’ etc. but you cannot change your position from one minute to the next.”

“But, Remus, I have told Ginny the truth more than once, she keeps coming back.”

“Perhaps you’re just not being clear enough,” suggested Lupin. “When was the last time that you laid it out for her?”

“The night of the Gryffindor victory party.”

“When Ginny followed you out the portrait hole and then returned alone �“ only a minute or two later? Will you think me too intrusive if I ask what your exact words were?”

“I don’t think it was more than two short sentences. Give me a moment to think…’I will always be here for you if you need me. But right now, I cannot be what you want me to be.’”

“Those were your exact words?” Lupin prodded.

“Pretty much,” Harry confessed. “They were a lot harder to say at the time.”

“No wonder she’s confused, those words sound too much like a declaration of love.”

Harry considered this for a minute then allowed, “I suppose they do…”

Lupin looked Harry in the eye and advised, “Then if that’s what you intend, do it right. Otherwise, you’re just holding her hostage. You must be unequivocal… Just realize this, Harry, I cannot make this decision for you. It is your decision to make just as you are the one who will have to live with the consequences.”

Harry nodded that he understood, but then sighed in resignation as he felt the familiar arguments starting in his head again.

Lupin must have seen some of that in Harry’s expression because he relented a bit and added, “Look, life’s too short and we all know that one day, even though we won’t be ready, we will all die. In the meanwhile, all we can do is grab the little bits of happiness that fall our way. If we question our good fortune too much, argue that we don’t deserve it, it will just slip through our fingers. I tell you this, Harry, because I stood on a precipice very similar to yours on the night that Dumbledore died and I came away with the realization that it could have been any of us cut down that night, any of us that had fought the Death Eaters in that corridor.”

“So you decided to give Tonks a chance,” Harry surmised.

Lupin nodded. “And in the long run, it has brought me more happiness than I ever imagined.”

Lupin retrieved the decanter from the sideboard and replenished their glasses. With that sly Marauder’s grin that always spelled trouble to Harry, he asked nonchalantly, “Tell me this, why didn’t you warn Ginny of the new protocols for the Room of Requirement?”

“I never really got a chance--” Harry began lamely.

“Her dormitory is on the floor beneath yours, Neville will give you the password. I know he’s done it before.”

“I meant to,” Harry stammered, “I just didn’t… I guess I couldn’t bear the thought that she would try to visit the room with someone else, someone other than me, all right! Not exactly one of my stellar moments.”

To his surprise, Lupin just laughed. “Absolutely priceless, Harry. With that little selfish act, you just brought yourself one step closer to the land of the living.”

Harry didn’t pretend to understand Lupin’s twisted leaps of logic. Not that he didn’t inevitably arrive at the correct conclusion, the man was uncanny about that; Harry just had to take a less hair-raising path himself.

“Did Neville tell you that he gave me the password?”

“Why would he? You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you?” Lupin responded. “Actually, it created a bit of a stir among the idle minds in the common room. People tell me things, I’d be a fool not to listen. Why did you make an exception and deliberately seek Ginny out that day?”

“I was swearing her to secrecy about the recount I had given of the duel with Snape. It was at the direct request of the headmistress. Ron, Hermione and Neville had also been present, but they were much easier to locate.”

“How much of the story did you actually tell?”

“Very little. It was the day after the attack and they were concerned about me �“ I had to give them something. Ginny’s the only one with whom I shared the entire story.”

“I believe that puts you another step closer, maybe two when you consider how much teasing Ginny had to endure.”

Harry chuckled in spite of not really understanding the rules of the game. “Would it help my overall standings if I told you that I didn’t confess the entire story to Ginny until after the headmistress told me to swear everyone to secrecy?”

“Direct quotes and everything?”

“Play by play.”

“Then I would say, Harry, that I believe we have a winner!”

They heard the sound of muffled knocking coming from the outer office.

“That must be Tonks back from the Christmas party,” explained Lupin as he undid the locks with a simple wand movement. “She always forgets that there’s an extra set of keys in the residence. Don’t get up, Harry.”

At the sound of the outer door opening, Lupin raised his voice to announce, “In here.”

The door to the inner office opened to reveal Tonks, hair a festive deep green, in obvious high spirits from the party. “When I didn’t find you in our private quarters, darling, I thought you might be here. Oh, hi, Harry, didn’t expect to find you here, too.”

“Good to see you, Tonks,” Harry replied with a wide smile.

“Harry and I were at loose ends tonight,” Lupin offered. “Thought it might be nice to have a quiet supper together.”

“I can see that,” Tonks observed as she surveyed the scene before her in detail. “Looks like a pair of bachelors enjoying a bit of creature comforts at home. When do the dancing girls arrive?”

Lupin slowly eyed her up and down with unabashed ardor then returned, “I believe they just did.”

Not embarrassed in the slightest, Tonks assumed an overly dramatic pose and intoned in a deep Slavic accent, “The Czarina is not performing tonight.”

Lupin burst out laughing as Harry joined in even though he was not entirely sure he got the joke in its entirety. His look of bemusement was noticed by Lupin who added, “Tonks, you forget that Harry is not one of your usual students so he’s not as familiar with your arsenal as, say, the Hufflepuffs.”

“Why don’t you fill him in, Remus, while I help myself to some of the port?” Tonks suggested as she located the decanter on the far sideboard.

“The Czarina was Tonks’ very strict, very Russian ballet teacher. Her mother made her attend classes regularly when she was about eight or nine.”

“More like a forced march,” intoned Tonks as she pulled up a third armchair.

“Was she really a czarina?” Harry probed.

“Naw,” Tonks clarified, “she just acted like one. She had some exquisitely long Russian name that nobody could pronounce, but in class it always had to be ‘Madame, this’ or ‘Madame, that,’ so I just started calling her the Czarina. It wasn’t my fault the name stuck!”

“I gather you were not one of her favorite pupils then,” Harry managed to eek out between the laughter.

“I actually think the woman came to have a pathological dread of Saturday mornings,” Tonks continued. “Between the hordes of undisciplined young lades, as she liked to say, and the fact that Mum had to repeatedly modify her memory every time I forgot not to change my hair color in the middle of class �“ which was practically every week �“ it’s a wonder she didn’t end up in an asylum! She had this short director’s baton, looked almost identical to a wand, that she would use to count out the music in the palm of her hand. Only if you made a mistake or your body alignment wasn’t exactly right, she’d poke you with the bloody thing �“ and it was sharp! I think I managed the expelliarmus charm instinctively about a dozen times before my mother finally caught on and took me out of class.”

“And to make matters worse,” Lupin amended with barely contained mirth, “her mother then asks Tonks what she learned in class after all those years of training--”

“�”and I show her my best, most sublimely rendered impersonation of the Czarina you have ever seen. I had her walk, her mannerisms, her overblown accent, her monstrous ego. The complete, unvarnished picture--”

“�”and her mother says to her, ‘But Nymphadora, dear, didn’t you learn any dance combinations?’” Lupin finished amid gales of laughter.

“Now don’t get me wrong,” Tonks added, “I love my mum. But she never has really understood me.”

“Do they have any extra seating in the Hufflepuff common room?” quipped Harry to Lupin. “I think Fleur’s parents might like to attend when they visit from France. It’s Wednesday nights, right?”

“Two performances, seven and nine,” returned Lupin without missing a beat. “On a more serious note, though, Harry, I want to show you this. Tonks and I don’t usually share a classroom so this is not a demonstration that I can readily show my students. Tonks, would you indulge me by striking the Czarina pose again in the middle of the room so Harry can get the full picture? Don’t add any Metamorphmagus embellishments, please.”

Harry was enthralled with how readily Tonks became a totally different person right before their eyes. Even her expression was transformed into the perfect look of disdain for the adoring fans that were clustered around her.

“Now, Harry, this is an exercise in characterization �“ determining your enemies’ strengths and weaknesses just by observing them. Tonks is an ideal subject for this because she is very precise. Now look at her carefully and allow your imagination to fill in the blanks. For instance, you can tell that the Czarina is not longer a young woman by the way she elongates her neck artificially so that it looks more youthful. You can see that her face is overly made up with a thick layer of powder and a number of artificial beauty marks penciled in. Her hair is pulled back austerely from her face and clipped securely at the nape of her neck.”

As Harry followed along with Lupin’s narrative, he was surprised how easily the picture filled itself in. Tonks was indeed conveying all those small nuances in the way she held her body.

“Now you try it,” urged Lupin. “I’ll get you started. Look at the way she’s standing, her weight is actually on her heels. What does this tell you about her shoes?”

“She’s wearing flats; but no, that’s not all of it. She’s wearing ballet shoes, what do you call them?”

“Toe shoes?” Tonks supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Harry nodded.

“So what does that tell you about her legs?” prompted Lupin.

“She’s wearing tights, a pale color like all the dancers wear under their costumes.”

“Very good, now what can you tell from the position of her arms? See how they’re held at an artificial distance from her body,” Lupin continued.

Harry considered Tonks’ posturing carefully before answering, “She’s wearing a costume with a short skirt that sticks out and her arms are prevented from falling naturally beside her body.” With that he could suddenly see the entire picture: the aging ballerina, once semi-great, still donning the costumes of her youth and displaying a bit of artistic temperament by threatening to not perform for the evening’s production. Undoubtedly, she would relent after some shameless flattery and begging on the part of the director.

Harry turned to Lupin in awe. “That was incredible! Can you do that with anyone?”

“To some degree,” Lupin remarked thoughtfully. “But like I said, most people are not as meticulous as Tonks. She’s particularly adept at conveying all the little details.”

Harry started to stifle a yawn and realized that he shouldn’t impose on Lupin’s generosity any longer. “It must be getting late. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d best be calling it a night. Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Remus. And Tonks, always a pleasure.”

Harry retrieved his school robes and discarded scarf and tie from the peg and then gave both Tonks and Lupin a quick hug like he’d seen Ginny do a thousand times. He couldn’t believe how easy and effortless it all was and how much better it made him feel.

“Don’t forget, Harry,” Lupin called, “we have a session at two tomorrow.”

“I won’t forget,” Harry affirmed with a smile as he let himself out into the deserted corridor. He felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

---

As he heard the outside door close, Lupin sighed wearily in his chair. “I tell you, cherub, every day that goes by I feel woefully under-qualified for this job.”

“What happened this evening, Remus? I’ve never known you to entertain a student, let alone in such a lavish manner. You ordered the Dover sole, didn’t you? The one from Dumbledore’s private stash?”

Lupin nodded. “I had to call in quite a few favors for that. I didn’t know what else to do; I’ve never seen Harry so distraught. I figured the least I could do was offer him was a nice supper and some conversation. Was it such a terrible thing that I broke about a third of the guidelines for student-teacher interactions in the process?”

“Doesn’t being his personal advisor give you a bit of extra leeway?”

“Not enough for what he needed from me tonight. I think we’ve been wrong to have left Harry with the Dursleys for so long. For years his only confidantes have been Ron and Hermione. Unfortunately, in this case, he needed to talk to someone with a little more perspective, someone who had gone through some of the same things that he was experiencing.”

“You mean like a father figure?” surmised Tonks.

“Perhaps.”

“Well, you must have done something right. Did you see that mega-watt smile that he gave you? That’s the same one that he usually reserves for Ginny.”

Lupin nodded. “I just hope that I gave him something to think about.”

“What did he want to talk about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Just the usual man-to-man stuff: life, death, love.”

“That’s a pretty tall order. What did you tell him?”

“Just a bit of advice that his mother, Lily, passed on to me when I was his age. A bit about how I felt when my own parents passed away. Nothing so complicated that any other adult couldn’t have done it justice.”

“I think you’re being too modest, darling, and much too hard on yourself. You know the headmistress gave you this assignment precisely because you cared for Harry; I don’t think she’d berate you for getting personally involved if--”

“If it was inevitable, you mean? I wonder if I would have accepted this position if she had warned me that I would grow to love the students so.”

“And what about Harry?”

“Harry is the best of Lily and James rolled into one. How could anyone not love Harry?”

“You see, Remus, that’s exactly why you’re the perfect man for the job.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 32
Through the Looking Glass


Feeling a bit like a reformed Scrooge on Christmas morning, Harry made his way to Lupin’s office the next day.

“You certainly seem to be in good spirits, Harry.” Lupin smiled from behind his desk. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to a decision already.”

“Not just yet, Professor, but I intend to very soon. There’re just a few loose ends I’d like to ask you about if I could.”

“Are they in the same spirit as what we discussed yesterday?” Lupin asked carefully.

Harry nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

“Then we’d better move into the inner office,” Lupin suggested. “And Harry, please make sure the outer door is closed. I’d hate to have to answer to the headmistress concerning my teaching practices.”

Harry cast a muffliato spell as a back-up, then returned his attention to Lupin who had already seated himself in front of the fire. From the quality of the white light that was streaming in through the solitary window, it was evident that it had started to snow again outside.

Harry seated himself in the other chair and took a deep breath. “Why did you not ask me what Ginny’s position in all this was? Wouldn’t that have been relevant if you were seeking a compromise?”

Lupin paused a moment before responding, “Firstly, we were talking about you; and secondly, it was obvious to me that the crux of the whole issue was that there was no middle ground. Besides, I already knew what Ginny’s take would be.” At Harry’s skeptical expression, Lupin continued, “So little faith… Ginny would have told you that she didn’t think your concerns were valid, and that even if they were, she was willing to take the chance anyway… Am I not correct?”

Harry was stunned. “Did she tell you this?”

Lupin gave a short derisive laugh. “Ginny? She mostly keeps her own council, always has. Those just happen to be the words that Tonks said to me.”

“Forgive me, Professor, I should have made the connection sooner,” Harry admitted. “I recall Tonks said words to that effect when we were all gathered in the Hospital Wing the night of Dumbledore’s death.” He also remembered, but did not voice, that words like ‘death’ and ‘Voldemort’ had not entered into Lupin’s objections at the time.

“I, too, have given some thought to the concerns that you raised last night,” Lupin asserted. “Are you sure that the constant presence of Ginny at the Burrow won’t prove to be too distracting?”

Harry shrugged to indicate that he was resigned to it. “It may not turn out to be as bad as I originally thought. Hermione persuaded �“ well, actually, it was more of a demand �“ that the headmistress provide her with an assignment over the Christmas holidays--”

Lupin chuckled knowingly.

“�”which means that Ron will be at loose ends. As long as I’m not actually alone with Ginny, the problems don’t seem to materialize.”

“You expect Hermione will be engrossed in her task?” Lupin asked with a knowing smile.

“I’m thinking the terms ‘voracious’ and ‘rabid’ will immediately come to mind,” Harry returned.

“I’ll accept that,” Lupin noted with a dry laugh. “Then here’s my assignment for you… Don’t look so stricken, I’m not negotiating today. I know that you came to Hogwarts seeking answers and the headmistress seems to think that you have been assigned a task by Dumbledore himself--”

“Please don’t ask me to break a promise that I made to Dumbledore on his dying day.”

Lupin hesitated a moment to acknowledge the tacit admission. Then choosing his words carefully, he ventured, “Is it not something that we could work through together?”

Harry shook his head regretfully. “I wish I could unburden myself of this, but Dumbledore’s instructions were explicit: I was to discuss it with Ron and Hermione only… You cannot imagine how much I would dearly love to place it squarely before you, Remus; you who wield deductive reasoning like others wield a sword, but I don’t think I can.”

“Is there some sort of assistance that I might render obliquely perhaps?” Lupin offered tactfully.

“Not at this time,” Harry conceded, deliberating whether it would ever be possible to consult with Lupin about anything remotely to do with the Horcruxes without running the risk of the man trying it all together in a neat little package.

“So with the understanding that you already have other assignments to be getting on with during the Christmas holidays,” Lupin summarized, “my assignment to you is this: steer clear of those avenues of inquiry that lead you back into the past and those events that we cannot change. Instead work on problems that will impact you in the future. I think that even such a small shift in your focus will keep you from feeling so overwhelmed.”

Harry considered how well those instructions dovetailed with his short-term plans. After coming across an entry for the word ‘Horcrux’ in a musty old English dictionary that read: ‘derived from the name of the ancient Egyptian god Horus, a vessel that possessed ill-understood mystical properties and often rumored to be cursed,’ Harry had decided on a new angle of inquiry ideally suited for the Christmas holidays. After all, Ron’s oldest brother, Bill, worked as a curse breaker for Gringott’s Wizarding Bank and would surely be able to point him in the right direction. More to the point, a few years ago Bill had completed a temporary field assignment working specifically with Egyptian tomb curses.

“That's very good advice, Professor,” Harry agreed. “I was going to wish you a happy Christmas, but you did say that you’d be by the Burrow before then.”

“Tuesday.”

“See you on Tuesday then,” Harry asserted as he took his leave.

---

Lupin trudged up the spiral steps to McGonagall’s office with a heavy heart. I hate this part of my job, he thought to himself for the hundredth time.

The headmistress smiled pleasantly from behind her desk. “Remus, I’m so glad to see that you have something to report. Won’t you take a seat?”

“If you don’t mind, Minerva, I’ll stand. This really won’t take long.”

If the headmistress was taken aback, she certainly didn’t show it, so Lupin ploughed ahead. “Harry’s confirmed that he was given a task by Dumbledore, assigned the very night that he was killed.”

“Were you able to obtain any of the details?” she prompted eagerly.

“He rebuffed me just like he did you. Think carefully, Minerva, if you are asking that I betray his trust, because I will not do it.”

“Do you think he may confide in you in the future?”

“It’s always a possibility. But at this point, I need to wait for him to seek my assistance on his own �“ and there’s a good chance that he may never do that. But just so that we’re clear: should he offer information to me in strictest confidence, I will not be turning over that information to anyone else.”

“What about your duty to the Order?” she reminded him.

Lupin’s eyes were blazing as he returned, “When it comes to this, I am the Order.”

“But, Remus--”

“This is not negotiable, Minerva. If you think that you’d rather assign the task to someone else, someone who is more amendable to outside agendas, then I suggest you do so.”

“No, Remus,” the headmistress replied in a conciliatory tone, “I still maintain that you are the best man for the job.”

“Do you mean that, or are you just afraid that if I walk, Harry will walk with me? Because I can practically guarantee it.”

“Remus, you wouldn’t!” McGonagall gasped.

“Then just remember this: my first loyalty is to Harry. Not Harry, the boy who lived, the chosen one, or whatever moniker du jour applies so that you can objectify him. He is a person with feelings just like everyone else. Only just about everyone he’s ever cared for has betrayed him in some way �“ even if it was just by dying �“ and I, for one, will not do it.”

“He’s not the only one who has lost those dear to him--”

“�”but he’s the youngest among us, Minerva. He doesn’t have age or experience to buffer the pain.”

“But to trust him implicitly with so huge a matter!”

“We don’t really have any idea of the scope of Dumbledore’s assignment,” Lupin pointed out. “But to address your statement directly, all trust is implicit. To half-trust someone is not to trust them at all.”

“Don’t you think you should be a little more pragmatic?” suggested the headmistress.

“You’re asking the wrong person, Minerva; I’ve always been an idealist. Do you suddenly doubt the ideals that we defend?”

“Remus, it’s not the contents of your heart that I doubt,” she maintained softly.

“Then you shouldn’t doubt Harry, either… Now if you’ll excuse me, I have packing to do. Should you need to find me over the holidays, I will be either in Patagonia or Katmandu. By happy coincidence, Ted Tonks likes to hike �“ only he prefers exotic locations. An owl or Patronus will find me in either place.”

Not that he would be traveling to either of those locales over the holidays, Lupin thought to himself, but they managed to convey the same remoteness as his true destination �“ and he would still be accessible via owl or Patronus.

---

It was an uneventful supper at the Burrow that evening. After serving as their escort, Fred had left almost immediately to assist George at the Diagon Alley store. Mrs. Weasley was disappointed that she could not persuade him to stay even for a single cup of tea, giving him a long-suffering sigh as he breezed off into the snowy night. Harry had not realized that Diagon Alley remained open in the evenings, but Hermione assured him that it was always so in the dwindling days before Christmas.

Bill arrived later than usual from Gringott’s after having seen Fleur off to Paris to meet her parents. Not being able to take as many days off, Bill would be joining her in a few days so that they could spend the holidays together. Mr. Weasley returned from the Ministry in time for pudding and everyone waited for him to eat a quick supper before they attacked Mrs. Weasley’s excellent mincemeat pie together. Harry made everyone laugh by recounting Ron’s tips for hanging mistletoe in their common room, although he made a point of avoiding Ginny’s gaze throughout his narrative.

Even so, it seemed oddly quiet without the twins and Fleur to liven things up so Ginny and Hermione retired to the living room to see if they could get a head start on the Christmas decorating. They returned almost immediately to commandeer Ron’s assistance with the ladder and with the hanging of the holly wreath over the mantle. As the self-styled expert on the proper positioning of mistletoe, Ron could hardly refuse.

Mr. Weasley offered to assist Mrs. Weasley with the washing and shelving of the plates and glassware, albeit most of the hard work was done by magic. Still, Harry thought they were the perfect picture of domesticity as they softly discussed the events of their day while performing such a mundane chore.

Left alone to linger over a second cup of holiday spiced tea with Bill, Harry found it an ideal moment to ask him about his area of expertise.

“The study of curses is fascinating but dangerous as well,” Bill admitted. “Many times I’ve had to temper my guesswork with an iron restraint so as not to make any unnecessary assumptions that could result in injury. Granted, working with goblins can be a huge asset as many curses simply don’t affect them like they would you or me. Still, you can never forget that some curses cannot be broken without risking death and you have to be ready to walk away from those.”

Harry described the condition of Dumbledore’s withered hand before his death and asked if that could have been the result of handling a cursed object.

“That’s certainly a possibility,” Bill agreed. “Do you know what sort of an object it might have been?”

Harry shook his head sadly then elaborated, “It may have been a ring, but I may just be jumping to conclusions as he was wearing a ring I had never seen before on his other hand. It could have been just about anything to judge by his promise of it being such a rollicking good tale �“ the more sensational, the better. He was killed before he was able to recount the details to me.”

Bill commiserated with a nod of his head. “If it was a ring,” he proclaimed, “it would be important to know who last wore it. Not the owner, mind you, but who actually had it on their finger last. Tracing a curse to its origin is often one of the best methods of understanding how to ultimately break it. Aside from Dumbledore, why all this sudden interest in curses, Harry?”

“Just a class assignment I have for the holidays,” Harry improvised.

“There are a number of related books still in my room upstairs if you want to research the matter further. I made a point of collecting only those that were written in plain, modern-day language �“ not like some of those that you can find at Hogwarts �“ so it may not prove to be such an onerous task,” Bill suggested.

“Thanks, Bill, I’m sure that will help a lot. Tell me, though, how is breaking a curse different from undoing a charm? I mean, if a charm has unexpected negative results, then is it still essentially different from a curse?”

“That’s one that could be argued by the experts,” Bill acknowledged. “I personally think that intent has a lot to do with whether an item is indeed a curse or a charm. But it’s rather like trying to classify magic as being either dark or light. Does it depend upon the nature of the spell itself, or are some spells always considered dark magic regardless of how they are used? Can using dark magic to achieve a worthy goal mean that it can no longer be classified as dark in that particular instance? It’s an argument for the philosophers.”

“What about the case of the Fidelius Charm that my mother cast right before her death?” ventured Harry apprehensively. “Wouldn’t you say that was a charm that went awry?”

Bill’s conclusion was not what Harry had expected. “Actually, no,” Bill declared without a moment’s hesitation. “I think that charm worked exactly as your mother intended. They did not want to be found until they were ready to be found.”

“What about the fact that no one can find the house now?” Harry pressed.

“Now it’s just a matter of when Peter Pettigrew or Voldemort, or anyone else who acquires the secret, decides that it should be found. But Harry, I’m not the one you should be asking about the Godric’s Hollow Conundrum. Remus Lupin is the acknowledged expert, although I’ve heard him and my dad go ‘round and ‘round about it for hours without getting anywhere.”

“Why didn’t Lupin think to ask Sirius to share the secret? Or to at least take him there in person?”

Bill’s expression was solemn when he answered, “Because he didn’t expect Sirius to die. At least, not to die before his name was cleared and they could make a pilgrimage to the site together. For Remus, it’s been an annual event ever since--”

Mr. Weasley’s hand on Bill’s shoulder stopped him in mid-sentence as did the quiet words that followed. “Bill, did you not realize that Remus is serving as Harry’s faculty advisor this year? The headmistress has allowed Harry, as well as Ron and Hermione, to structure their seventh year as a course of independent study.”

“Forgive me, Dad, and you, too, Harry,” Bill offered immediately. “I must have totally forgotten. My words were totally inexcusable…”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Bill,” Arthur Weasley responded in an affectionate tone. “I heard enough of your conversation to realize that you were only speaking of Remus as a family friend �“ but it was best if I stopped you before you went any further.”

Arthur casually poured himself a cup of tea and took his time adjusting the cream and sugar until it was just right. Then turning to Bill, he posed, “You don’t mind if I have a few private words with Harry, do you?”

Harry looked around the familiar kitchen and saw that Mrs. Weasley had also left the room unnoticed at some point earlier.

Arthur cleared his throat briefly before addressing Harry directly, “Bill didn’t mean any harm, he just enjoys talking about his work. He also forgets that Remus exercises considerable restraint when it comes to sharing his thoughts with others.”

Harry nodded that he understood. Although he no longer thought of Lupin in those terms exactly, the assessment would have accurately described Lupin’s demeanor at the start of term.

“I tell you this, Harry, because it concerns the night that your parents were murdered and so, indirectly, concerns you as well. It’s better that you hear it from me. The Godric’s Hollow Conundrum has practically been Remus’ undoing these past sixteen years. He’s looked at it from every angle, cursed it, walked away from it to gain perspective, anything and everything he has been able to think of and yet it continues to defy him. It has become the bane of his existence. I thought that with his marriage, he would finally have been able to put it behind him for more immediate concerns.”

“Actually, I think he has in many respects, Mr. Weasley,” Harry volunteered. “It was my insistence to know more about my parents’ deaths that caused him to dredge it up.”

Arthur looked at Harry sympathetically and proffered, “Don’t blame yourself, Harry. It’s Remus’ own feelings of remorse and guilt �“ totally unfounded that they are �“ that leads him down this same path over and over again. Trust me, I have spent many a night sitting at this very table trying to console him.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why exactly does he feel so guilty? As far as I can tell, he wasn’t involved in the situation directly.”

“But that’s just it, Harry. The fact that he wasn’t involved directly is like a condemnation to him. They were his best friends, his surrogate family, and he was not there to help them the night they died. He totally forgets that Peter Pettigrew’s betrayal had been orchestrated long in advance. That while the members of the Order were searching for a traitor in their midst, it was Peter that was feeding each of them false information about the other so that everyone was suspicious of everyone else. Sirius was manipulated to the point where he no longer trusted Remus �“ although James and Lily pleaded with him that he was wrong. It was all part of Peter’s plan to present himself as the best candidate to be their Secret-Keeper. And the saddest part of the whole thing is that, all other factors aside, Remus would still have been unable to come to their assistance. Voldemort made a point of attacking your parents on the night of the full moon, you see.

“And every time I think that Remus has finally been able to put the matter to rest, the estate agents from Gringott’s seek him out like clockwork. They can’t accept the fact that this matter may never be settled within any of our lifetimes and are convinced that Remus somehow holds the key.”

Harry gulped as if he were coming up for air. “I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley, but you lost me on that last part �“ about the agents from Gringott’s.”

“Of course, Harry,” Arthur replied kindly, “I forget that some of these legal machinations must seem totally foreign to you. Bill works there so a lot of this is familiar to me just from listening to him talk about his work. Your father, James, was from a wizarding family, a pureblood as those people who think such things matter would say. Like in many of these old families, there was an estate: a family home, some land, perhaps a few pieces of art or antiques. All that remains of that is still in Godric’s Hollow, still protected by the Fidelius Charm; and while it is likely that much of the house and its contents have been irreparably damaged, the land itself still has value. The estate agents at Gringott’s are eager to settle the matter so that they may claim the percentage to which they are entitled.”

“So you’re saying that Remus is somehow named in my parents’ will?” Harry inquired.

“I can only assume so because of the actions of the estate agents. I’m not certain that Remus knows or that he would even tell me if he did. I suspect you and Sirius �“ and ironically, maybe even Peter Pettigrew �“ are also named. Since neither Sirius nor Peter have been accessible, and you were clearly too young to have knowledge of the secret, they have concentrated their efforts into hounding Remus. A bunch of parasites they are, too. Leeches that suck on the blood of human suffering, or so Remus always says.”

Harry’s confusion over legal matters was clearly evident. “But the money that my parents left me in their vault at Gringott’s…”

“That was a perfectly routine transaction. It’s only the distribution of assets that they can neither see nor touch that gives them problems.”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 33
The Best Laid Plans…


Harry was beginning to think he had traded one prison for another. To have heard the headmistress’ concerns about safety issues, he was lucky to have been allowed to journey to the Burrow over the holidays at all. She had embarked upon a long, convoluted explanation of how the protection that he had enjoyed -- not that he hadn’t wanted to correct her impression at that point, nothing at the Dursley’s was ever enjoyable -- at his aunt’s had been tacitly extended beyond his seventeenth birthday when they had not demanded that he leave immediately. But once he left Privet Drive to return to Hogwarts, that thread had been irreparably snapped. While the school and its grounds were probably the most heavily warded pieces of real estate in Britain, she could not extend any of that same protection to areas beyond the gates. He had listened politely and waited for her to arrive at the bottom line, i.e. that there was to be an Order member stationed outside the Weasley residence each day and that he was not to be allowed to leave their property under any circumstances, not even if the Order member agreed to accompany him.

They had arrived at the Burrow that first evening to find that Hestia Jones was already waiting for them. It was clear that the circumstances had changed drastically since the carefree days of summer when she had been such an entertaining companion. Now it was all business as she greeted them curtly and then insisted that they each produce an identifying Patronus before allowing them near the house. All except Ginny, that is, as she reminded them of the ban on underage magic.

Harry had to admit that he was envious of the girls’ upcoming shopping trip. Not that he had any desire to brave the Yuletide London crowds, but he had not had an opportunity to do any Christmas shopping at all this year. Now it looked like his tentative plan to steal away to the nearby hamlet of Ottery St. Catchpole was going to have to be abandoned as well.

Hermione was surprisingly sympathetic to Harry’s plight and offered to assist him in any way that she could. The customary upbraiding about waiting until the last minute didn’t come.

“Harry, I don’t think anyone’s going to hold this against you,” she explained. “Everyone knows that we’ve been restricted to school grounds for the past two months.”

“Still I bet you’ve done some of your shopping already, haven’t you?” Harry asked testily.

“Not as much as you’d think �“ and then only because I was able to go to the cyber-café once before the lock-down,” she replied patiently.

“You didn’t use the owl-order service?” Ron inquired, clutching his chest in mock disbelief.

Hermione acknowledged his antics with a practiced, “Very funny, Ron. I was actually intending to select gifts personally this year. Harry, do you have any ideas at all?”

Harry shook his head glumly. “I was hoping to be inspired by what I actually saw for sale in the shops. I find that it makes things a lot easier if you don’t begin with any preconceived notions.”

“Well, Mr. Practicality, that’s not exactly going to work for you this year, is it?” Hermione returned.

Ginny poked her head past the door to Ron’s bedroom and asked, “You three commiserating about Christmas presents? I have no idea what to get Mum this year, any suggestions?”

“Believe it or not,” Harry volunteered with a smile, “that’s the only one to which I’ve given any thought. Remember all those fabulous photos the Creevey brothers took of the Halloween Ball? They had so many in addition to the ones that they framed that I went through the extras and found a few that might appeal to Mrs. Weasley. I was hoping to get an album to put them in, though.”

“That’s a great idea!” Hermione declared. “Getting an album should pose no problem. Who do you have photos of?”

“I was able to find Ron, Ginny and George. None of Fred, unfortunately, since that headless costume of his just made the lens go haywire.”

“I would’ve thought that my costume would have done the same,” Ron commented.

“Oh, it did. But Colin was able to dig one out that showed you, Ginny and Lupin examining one of Luna’s table decorations that was taken before either of you activated the special effects.”

“You know,” suggested Hermione with a twinkle in her eye, “I have a few photos from that event myself that I might be persuaded to donate for the album. Anyone else?”

Harry noticed that Hermione looked directly at Ginny when she said that, but it was Ron who responded with, “Count me in!”

“Me, too!” Ginny followed seconds later.

---

Tuesday morning was cold and grey with a colorless sky that seemed to dissolve into the snowy landscape without any discernable pause at the horizon. The golden glow of the candles and hearth from the Burrow kitchen presented a sharp contrast as happy voices from within shattered the fragile silence of a winter’s dawn.

It was the usual mayhem as Mrs. Weasley attempted to make sure that everyone had breakfast before they set out for the day while overlapping conversations rang from every side of the worn trestle table. Fred and George were conferring with Bill in hushed whispers in the corner as Arthur attempted to read the Daily Prophet and carry on a conversation with Harry and Ron. Hermione and Ginny were still upstairs getting ready for their big excursion amid the tony Muggle stores of London.

“Are you finished, Harry dear?” inquired Mrs. Weasley in a motherly tone.

“Everything was wonderful as usual.” He smiled in her direction as he tilted his head to try to read some of the headlines on the back side of the Prophet.

Ron was still shoveling cereal into his mouth despite having finished a huge plate of eggs and sausages minutes before. After consulting his pocket watch, Arthur decided he had time for another piece of toast before leaving for the Ministry and motioned for Harry to please pass him the butter and jam.

Mrs. Weasley caught Harry’s eye as she surveyed the scene from her command post next to the stove. “Are the girls still not down? Harry, would you mind checking on them again?”

He nodded indulgently and hurried out the kitchen door, then slowed his pace considerably as he worked his way across the living room and up the stairs for the third time that morning. Harry stood on the first floor landing and intoned, “Gringott’s courier service and exchange! Last call for Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger!”

Ginny poked her head out of the second door and giggled at his long suffering expression. “Do I look enough like a Muggle to you?” She grinned as she held the door open wide.

Harry was caught short momentarily, sorely tempted to survey her in the same lingering fashion that she had once scrutinized him in his formal attire. But the moment was shattered when Hermione opened the far door and cried, “Oh, Harry, please get my spending money from Bill, I can’t find my walking shoes anywhere!”

“I’ll get it, Hermione,” offered Ginny as she slipped into her hiking boots and clomped down the stairs with the long laces tucked in but still untied.

Harry followed behind at a more measured pace and watched as the last copper flash of Ginny’s hair disappeared behind the kitchen door. He was halfway across the living room when he saw a hint of silver smoke through the window that signified that Lupin and Tonks must be going through the checkpoint. He held the back door open invitingly, then hugged them each in turn as they entered.

“Merry Christmas to you both,” he offered with a wide smile as he led them into the kitchen where the rest of the remaining Weasleys were still assembled. Harry noticed that Arthur had already left for work as Molly ushered Tonks and Lupin into the seats that had recently been occupied by Fred and George.

“Molly, please, it’s not necessary to ply me with any more hot cocoa or I’m liable to explode when I try to Disapparate.” Lupin laughed as he waved the steaming mugs away, then finally relented with a sigh.

Ginny was in the corner engrossed in conversation with Bill and nodding uncertainly. Still in stocking feet, Hermione joined them and Bill handed her an envelope as well. Ginny was looking at hers skeptically.

“It’s all right, Ginny,” Ron whispered in a teasing tone, “Muggles have been using paper money for the last century, at least.”

Ginny made a face back at him as Hermione assured her, “Don’t worry if you can’t remember all the conversions that Bill gave you. It was the same for me the first time I used Galleons. Tonks and I are pros at this, we won’t leave your side until you’ve mastered it.”

Harry’s attention was redirected to Tonks who was commenting to Mrs. Weasley, “�”and Remus was so concerned that Dad would take an immediate dislike to him because he was a werewolf. But Dad says, ‘I don’t care about that, just as long as he doesn’t vote Tory!’”

Hermione immediately burst out laughing as Lupin elaborated, “I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant until Tonks explained to me that the Tories would have gladly welcomed the likes of pureblood fanatics such as the Malfoys and the rest of the Blacks.”

“Zealots like Dolores Umbridge, too,” Hermione contributed.

Lupin turned to her and posed, “So you follow Muggle politics, Hermione?”

“Not really,” she admitted, “but my parents do, so some of it’s bound to rub off.”

“Help me with this one then,” Lupin entreated. “What are these striking similarities between Cornelius Fudge and this fellow, Tony Blair, that are supposedly so amusing?”

Hermione’s hand flew immediately to her mouth to stifle the laughter. “You really should talk to my dad about that, Professor,” she commented through her giggles. “He’s the one who could really do that explanation justice.”

“Hermione, dear,” Mrs. Weasley interjected, “your walking shoes are by the back door where you left them to thaw out, remember?”

Hermione raced out of the room while Ginny propped one foot on the nearest stool to begin lacing her hiking boots.

Catching Molly’s disapproving look, Lupin offered, “Why don’t I help you lace your boots, Ginny? They’re much more comfortable when you can get someone else to lace them up nice and tight for you.” He wiggled his own toes appreciatively, then settled Ginny’s foot on his knee so that he could get the proper leverage. “Isn’t that so, Tonks?” he added mischievously.

Tonks flashed him the merest glance before intoning dramatically, “I don’t know what you mean, Remus. I simply don’t do ‘supplicant’.”

Even without the Russian accent, her entire demeanor was suddenly so much like the Czarina that Harry couldn’t help breaking out in laughter.

“Tell me, Remus,” Bill remarked on his way out the door, “don’t you ever feel like you’ve been assigned to the position of straight man?”

Lupin issued a sharp laugh and returned, “Just you want until you get married!”

Mrs. Weasley finally surrendered her post at the stove and settled down for some cocoa once she realized that she was not going to convince the girls to have anything more than pumpkin juice.

“I’ll make them stop for something later,” Lupin assured her.

Finally everyone had their coats, scarves, gloves, hats and rucksacks ready to go. Tonks assembled the troops in the living room to make sure that everyone passed muster. Today, she was not dressed in her usual cutting-edge Muggle attire and wildly colored hair. Like Lupin, she was wearing a very upscale alpine jumper, simple jeans, and boots �“ a studied casualness perfectly suited to city dwellers. To complete the picture, she had changed her hair into a wavy ginger mane reminiscent of both Ginny and Hermione at the same time. She complimented the girls on the fluffy scarves that Hermione had knitted as their brightness would draw everyone’s eyes to their faces instead of other details.

Clothing inspection completed, Lupin took over the briefing. “For today, it’s first names only. We’re just Remus and Tonks. First person who says ‘professor’ gets docked 50 house points �“ and don’t think I won’t remember to do it once we get back to school. Speaking of which, the word ‘Hogwarts’ is also out; just refer to it as ‘school’ if you need to. Better yet, avoid those subjects entirely. And lastly, don’t forget that Muggles don’t know they’re Muggles, so don’t use the word under any circumstances.”

“Just one thing, Remus.” Harry couldn’t resist interrupting, then at Mrs. Weasley’s disapproving look and Ron’s snigger, he added innocently. “What, the guidelines don’t apply to me?”

Harry saw Ron’s smile widen and didn’t dare look in the direction of Mrs. Weasley who had probably donned her basilisk-type glare.

Lupin tried to hide his smirk as he shook his head indulgently. “Yes, Harry?”

“Why all the secrecy? I mean it’s a great training exercise and all, but why go to all the trouble?”

“It never hurts to be extra cautious, dear,” asserted Mrs. Weasley. “These are all standard practices for members of the Order. Not that it means that any of you are being inducted, mind you.”

“We’ll have them back in time for supper, Molly,” Lupin promised as Mrs. Weasley herded them like a mother hen into the backyard.

Harry and Ron watched from the back window as the four assembled themselves into a tightly packed group. With Lupin’s hands on Hermione’s shoulders and Tonks’ hands on Ginny’s, they Disapparated simultaneously with a barely discernable popping noise.

“Blimey, I bet they’re having fun already,” Ron bemoaned.

“But, Ron,” Harry reminded him, “you hate shopping, you hate London and you hate crowds.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” Ron attested with a grin, “let’s see if Hestia will give us approval for a game of Quidditch down at the far end of the lawn.”

They turned to see that Mrs. Weasley was pursing her lips in a very disapproving manner and shaking her head slightly.

“What, Mum?” he issued with an apologetic shrug. “Don’t tell me she wasn’t included in the guidelines, either!”

---

Hestia Jones pronounced that Quidditch was out due to the high-flying antics, but they were welcome to do a bit of practice dueling in the far field if they promised to stay within her line of sight. Harry and Ron returned with their jackets zipped tight and wands resolutely clutched in their moisture-proof gloves. As Hestia accompanied them down to the dueling site, she confirmed a few details concerning the Weasley homestead.

“I’m not sure about the exact boundaries,” Ron confessed. “You should probably ask my dad about that, but the field to the west and a bit of the wooded area to the east are definitely ours. We’ve been playing there since we were old enough to outrun Mum.”

“And both of you are of age?” Hestia inquired pointedly. “Can’t have any underage wizards doing magic on my watch.”

They both nodded in reply. With that single reminder, however, Harry’s illusions of enjoying any extra practice sessions with Ginny evaporated once and for all.

Hestia positioned herself so that she had a clear view of the boys as well as the house in the background. Dueling seemed a poor substitute for flying, but they persevered half-heartedly until Harry remembered the visualization technique he’d used in Lupin’s class. Ron went for it with the same gusto he usually reserved for dessert. Before long, they were involved in such an outrageous battle that it was hard to tell which volleys were the result of spells, which were the result of a good throwing arm, and which results were totally unexpected. They even managed to get Hestia laughing at their antics and admitting that she wished circumstances allowed her to join in.

By the time they broke for lunch, the boys had snow down their collars and ice caked in their hair. Looking forward to thawing themselves out with some warm food, Hestia accompanied them as they trudged up the slight incline to the house. A flash of whitish smoke contrasting against a dark hedge caught Harry’s eye. Hestia immediately noticed his shift in focus and motioned the boys inside the house as she went to take a closer look. Peering out through the front window, they could see that it was a silvery dolphin Patronus.

“Blimey, that’s from Bill!” Ron exclaimed.

Mrs. Weasley herded them into the kitchen and unwound the wet outer clothing from them as they settled down to some piping hot stew. She looked up from her plate as Hestia walked in through the kitchen door.

“Are you ready from some stew, Hestia?’ she offered solicitously.

“In a moment, Molly. I have some news that I need to relate first. I just received an urgent message from Bill. He has word that there have been a series of bombings in London, the entire city is in an uproar. Even Diagon Alley is feeling the repercussions. He has already notified Arthur and one of them will be home within the hour with more details.”

The only sound in the kitchen was the clatter of spoons that had been hastily returned to the tabletop. The shocked silence was broken by Mrs. Weasley suggesting that they turn on the Wizard Wireless Network to see if any reports of the incident were forthcoming. They waited impatiently for some insipid program that provided household hints for the modern witch to conclude before the next scheduled news update. But it was soon clear from the news segment that the minds at the WWN did not consider any events in that occurred within the context of the Muggle world to be worthy of notice.

Harry turned away in disgust. He should have immediately understood that they were taking such a myopic view when the regularly scheduled programming had not been interrupted, he concluded grimly.

“Is there anything wrong with the stew, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a worried tone.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Weasley, I just seem to have lost my appetite,” Harry admitted with a sigh.

“I understand. Just finish up your tea then so you’ll have something warm in your stomach.” Then turning her attention towards Ron, she added, “I see Ron has lost his appetite as well.”

As she took both plates away, Harry noted that Ron’s bowl showed that he had been able to stomach considerably more than a few mouthfuls. Harry promised that he would return for his tea momentarily, but right now he was going upstairs to change out of the remainder of his damp clothing before the chill set in.

He felt an indescribable sense of surrealism as he climbed the stairs to the room he was sharing with Ron. This had to be a coincidence, he kept telling himself. No one could have known the girls were planning to go to London today. But in his heart, he knew that such reasoning was false. The existence of vipers like Peter Pettigrew was all the evidence he needed.

After the fifth attempt to untie the wet lumps of laces, he just wedged off his trainers and left them for later. With unsteady fingers, he unbuttoned the top half of his shirt, then just pulled it off his head impatiently. Shrugging into a thick, warm sweatshirt seemed to soothe him enough that he was able to exchange his socks and clammy jeans for dry ones without further incident. As he ran his hands through his unruly hair, he could tell that most of the trembling had subsided. Perhaps all he had needed was some dry clothing, he told himself as he climbed down the stairs.

He found Mrs. Weasley and Ron sitting alone at the kitchen table, each staring listlessly into the distance. With the radio turned off, the silence felt oppressive in the usually cheerful kitchen. Harry poured himself a mug of tea and added a bit of lemon as a soothing agent. His throat felt so tight he doubted he would be able to swallow anything at all.

“Feeling better now, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley inquired gently.

Harry nodded in return and sat down in the chair that Ron was just vacating. He cupped his hands around the warm mug and inhaled deeply. The sharpness of the lemon scent contrasting with the aromatic tea felt oddly comforting. Staring out the window at the bleak landscape, he noted that Hestia had resumed her post in the back yard.

---

Ron had just returned from upstairs when a bit of movement outside alerted them that someone had arrived at Hestia’s checkpoint. Like a trio of voyeurs, they crowded soundlessly at the window, watching as Arthur Weasley produced a glistening weasel from the tip of his wand. He was at the back door moments later.

“No word from the girls yet?” he asked apprehensively as he hung up his coat and hat automatically.

“Nothing,” replied Molly, solemnly handing him a mug of tea.

“I find that worrisome,” Arthur admitted candidly. “Surely Remus or Tonks would have had the good sense to fire off a Patronus message to either of us at the first sign of trouble. I wonder what may have prevented them from doing so?”

“Any update on the situation in London, Dad?” Ron inquired impatiently. “Wizard Wireless was completely ignoring it.”

“Typical,” commiserated Arthur. “Last report I had was that all public transport throughout the city had been discontinued until further notice. Authorities are saying that they’ve been inundated with bomb threats within the past few hours and are having difficulty marshalling enough manpower to follow up on each one. It’s clear that some of the bombs have actually gone off, but the details vary depending upon the source.”

“Why would anyone do such a thing right at Christmas time?” Molly fretted with her apron unconsciously.

“They were looking for crowds…” Arthur left his thought unfinished as the others at the table filled in the details for themselves.

Yuletide crowds, shoppers, commuters. Each possibility sent an extra jolt of apprehension through the knot in Harry’s stomach.

“Don’t look so glum, boys,” Arthur offered with hollow cheer. “The girls couldn’t be in better hands. Tonks is the absolute best when it comes to disappearing in crowds. They’re probably all having a laugh at the expense of the chaos around them.”

Harry noticed that Arthur carefully avoided catching Molly’s eye as he spoke. That, and the fact that he had just attributed a Death Eater’s sense of frivolity to Lupin and Tonks, convinced Harry that there was probably more alarming news than what Arthur was willing to relay to them at the moment. He felt the knot in his stomach redouble its efforts to strangle him.

After further attempts at pointless conversation were either ignored or rebuffed by Ron’s noncommittal grunts, Arthur settled for providing the quiet strength they seemed to gather from his mere presence. Even Molly recognized the futility of trying to pacify anyone’s dread with endless cups of tea or cocoa. Each acutely aware of the proximity of the others, the four of them were each lost in their own thoughts, as if direct eye contact would only allow their worst fears to manifest. Harry could not say how long they remained frozen in this tableau; time had lost all relevance.

---

Bill arrived home unexpectedly from Gringott’s as the bank had prudently decided to close early for the day. His entrance seemed to immediately hearten everyone with hopes of an update on the situation in London.

“I take it that you haven’t heard directly from either Remus or Tonks?” Bill inquired immediately.

“Total silence,” confirmed Arthur gravely.

“I can’t say I have that much new information to report,” Bill replied. “Most of what we heard early in the day was just too riddled with rumor and hearsay to be reliable. Quite by chance, Dedalus Diggle happened by the bank and confirmed that he’d been able to tap into Muggle radio news. Seems the Muggle authorities have declared a ‘Code Amber Alert’ throughout London and advised everyone to remain at home if at all possible. Unexploded car bombs were disarmed in the area of Piccadilly Circus, but too many threats have been directed at the Underground system for authorities to just ignore. All public transport services have been suspended indefinitely which has created pandemonium as city workers have been unable to return to their families. All non-essential government offices were closed at two so that has just added to the aimless crowds. But in such a crush of Muggles, it might be imprudent for someone to send off a Patronus message.”

“Any reports of actual explosions or injuries at this time?” Arthur asked point-blank.

“Everything is just too chaotic. There’s too much conflicting evidence for the broadcasters to report anything with certainty, so they have decided to withhold any such announcements for the time being,” Bill responded. “Sorry, Dad. I wish I could tell you more. What about reports through the Wizard Wireless?”

“Nothing,” reported Molly fiercely. “It’s as if the situation didn’t exist.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Bill returned, “I’m beginning to think that the WWN’s total divorce from reality has more sinister overtones. It’s as if we’re being purposely kept in the dark and only fed news about those incidents that have been approved by the Ministry of Magic!”

A condemnation to be sure, Harry noted, but hadn’t the Daily Prophet been following similar guidelines since the Triwizard Tournament three years ago?

“By the way, Harry, I found this book in my office that might assist you with your research,” Bill volunteered unexpectedly. “I’ve found it very useful in the past.”

Harry looked at the title of the well-worn book that Bill slid across the table to him. Long Lost Secrets of the Valley of the Kings, a wizard’s perspective it read in faded gold script. “Thanks,” he replied, attempting a weak smile in Bill’s direction. He listlessly began to leaf through the table of contents, not really seeing the words before him.

“You’ll really enjoy this one,” Bill continued. “It’s written more like an adventure tale than as a stuffy academic narrative, even though it was penned as a first hand account by one of the expedition’s researchers. He must have had some unfulfilled literary aspirations… By the way, you’re welcome to take this and any of the other books from my room with you to Hogwarts. I can get them back from you at a later time.”

“Are you sure you won’t need them for your work?” Harry asked.

“I rarely need them now that I’m working at a desk in the main branch,” Bill replied, a note of sadness in his voice.

Harry was suddenly eager for some lifeline to the familiar world of academic subjects and excused himself from the table to take the book upstairs. The cold stiffness in his limbs served as a measure of just how long they had been sitting like statues. He settled himself face down on the bed and propped the book in front of him on the headboard. But his insecurities about the safety and whereabouts of Lupin, Tonks and the girls were not so easily forgotten. Once again, he found himself unable to concentrate.

More than anything, Harry was troubled that much of the wizarding world viewed Muggle events directly in their midst with such a blind-eye. He was reminded of the headmistress’ inspirational words: “It is my sincere belief that our destinies lie in re-establishing ties with the Muggle world around us. We should be embracing our similarities instead of guarding our differences so zealously.” What he had dubbed a meaningless platitude in her speech at the welcoming feast now seemed more like the courageous words of a visionary.

Harry managed to get halfway through the book’s first chapter, and while Bill was right about the writing style, he couldn’t keep his mind on the sentences and kept having to go back and reread. Noting that the comforting murmur of conversation from downstairs had died, he set the book on the nightstand and glanced idly out the window into the backyard. From his vantage point, he had a commanding view of the lane and empty fields beyond Hestia’s checkpoint.

Through the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, he thought he saw a bit of movement at the far end of the lane. He peered intently at the indistinct shape as it slowly drew closer. As it lurched into view from between two barren trees trunks, he noted that it was actually two people; then in another second, the realization hit him that it was Hermione and Lupin.

Without another thought Harry raced down the stairs, skipping a number of steps with each bounding leap. He barely managed to keep from colliding with the living room wall as he rounded the corner and shouted through the kitchen door, “Lupin and Hermione! They’re back!”

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 34
Coming In From the Cold


Harry did not notice the biting cold through his sweatshirt as he stood on the back lawn of the Burrow. Within seconds he was joined by Ron, Bill, Molly and Arthur. Although he was tempted to run out into the lane in welcome, Arthur’s warning hand on his shoulder reminded him that it was more prudent to wait until the two travelers had passed through the checkpoint.

Lupin half-staggered against the fence post as he commanded his silvery giraffe. Hermione steadied him by the shoulder, then leaning against him for support, she shakily produced her own otter-shaped Patronus.

Within a heartbeat, Lupin and Hermione were engulfed in countless hugs and practically hoisted off their feet as they worked their way up the porch steps and into the house. Suddenly everyone was talking and laughing at once. Molly rushed into the kitchen for hot cups of tea while Harry and Ron hung up coats and Bill drew up comfortable seating for everyone.

Arthur remained at the door, looking expectantly into the backyard. After a few moments, he quietly leaned over Lupin’s chair and asked, “Remus, where are Ginny and Tonks? Did you all not return together?”

Lupin’s expression was hollow as he answered, “We separated according to protocol. I was hoping you had some news of them.”

Molly replied, “We’ve heard nothing. Do you know what could have prevented them from sending us a message?”

Lupin looked at each of the concerned faces before supplying, “It was too big a risk to take with all the dementors.”

Harry felt his heart give a lurch as the others gasped.

Recovering first, Arthur’s quiet voice cut like ice, “How do dementors figure into this?”

Handing his tea mug back to Molly with an unsteady hand, Lupin raised himself to his full height and addressed Arthur directly, “I think it’s time we spoke in private.”

Arthur nodded and gravely led the way into the kitchen. Harry followed them with his eyes, straining for their words. He thought he detected the sound of Arthur offering Lupin some Firewhiskey to calm his nerves, but then the door swung shut behind them.

“Can I get you some more tea, dear?” Molly asked Hermione.

“Thanks, I’m fine…really,” Hermione replied. Her voice sounded a bit squeaky, but her movements were steady as she placed the empty mug on the nearest table. “I suppose I should tell you a bit about what happened today.”

“Only if you’re ready, dear,” Molly’s voice was soothing. Harry could tell from the intensity of her gaze, though, that she was hungering for any tidbit of information.

Hermione took a deep breath and began, “Everything was pretty routine until after lunch. I wanted to stop by a nearby wireless spot so I could e-mail my parents. Remus �“ I mean, Professor Lupin �“ offered to keep me company while Ginny and Tonks shopped the funky boutiques on the next block. We planned to meet back in front of the café in an hour’s time. The place was pretty full but I managed to wedge myself at one of the long tables while the professor went to get us some lattés. There was no room close-by when he returned, but he found himself a nice spot at the counter where he could keep an eye on everything and still interact with the Muggles. I felt guilty at first that Remus was stuck just waiting for me but every time I looked up, he was deep in conversation with one person or another, laughing, and obviously enjoying himself thoroughly.” Hermione smiled at the memory. “I probably lost track of time a bit here and started an e-mail to my cousin in America as well. Little by little, the place started to get quiet, but before that even had a chance to sink in, Remus silently pulled up a chair next to me and whispered in my ear, ‘Don’t look up right now. Finish your transmission as quickly and naturally as possible, then look at the bank of screens behind you. Keep everything casual, you don’t want to attract any undue attention to yourself.’

“I don’t know how I managed to hit the right keys,” Hermione confessed. “There was something in his voice that made my veins feel like they were filled with ice. When I turned around, everyone in the entire café was transfixed by the images on the television screens; many were standing with their mouths hanging open. Each screen showed a different scene of chaos: smoke billowing down the street, crowds pouring out of buildings, streets being barricaded as traffic was redirected. Even though I knew that the sound from the screens was still turned off, the air was filled with too many sirens, screeching of brakes and urgent cries that were coming directly from the street outside. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Remus and he whispered urgently, ‘Lower left screen.’ There among the mass of people that was boiling up from the Underground stations, I saw them �“ dementors. Obviously, the Muggles couldn’t see them, but you could tell by the despair on their faces that they were still being affected by their presence. Suddenly there were dementors on practically every screen, drifting silently among the scenes of pandemonium that they were fueling. There didn’t seem to be any on the street outside, but I was certain that it was only a matter of time before they arrived.

“ ‘Let’s find the others,’ Remus hissed and then practically dragged me out onto the sidewalk. I saw red hair from Ginny and Tonks in the distance as they, too, were trying to make their way towards us on the opposite sidewalk. But as we got nearer to each other, neither Remus nor Tonks made any effort to join the others on the opposite side of the street �“ although I could tell that they were staring fixedly at one another. At the moment when we finally drew abreast, they actually broke eye contact and continued walking by each other like total strangers. I didn’t dare draw attention to myself by looking back over my shoulder, so I grabbed Remus’ arm sharply and demanded in an undertone, ‘Weren’t we meeting up with them?’ He gave me the saddest look and then sighed that there had been a change of plan, but I could tell by the way his entire body tensed up that it had taken all of his will-power to turn away.”

Hermione’s voice caught and she stared down at her hands. Molly jumped up and came back almost immediately with a fresh pot of tea. Refilling everyone’s mug, she waited patiently to hand one directly to Hermione.

Hermione sipped silently for a while and then looked up to find the circle of friends all waiting for her to continue with her story.

Harry watched in awe as Ron reached over and took Hermione’s hand from where it rested on the couch cushion between them. “Please tell me how you made it back home,” he entreated her.

Seeming to take courage from the directness of Ron’s gaze, Hermione returned to her tale. “We were like refugees, following the crowds as they slowly wound their way homeward. Our only objective was to find a likely spot from which to Disapparate; but it seemed like every park, including the one that we had used for our arrival, was surrounded by vehicles with flashing lights and policemen in riot gear. Office buildings and stores were herding people out and locking their doors. There were too many people on the street to just dive unnoticed into a dark alley, so we just wandered. Remus didn’t dare turn towards Diagon Alley for fear that if wizards were being targeted directly that would be they first place they would look.

“Finally we came across an old cinema that, miraculously, had stayed open for business. So we bought tickets and crept into the balcony with a handful of chocolate bars. You know Remus’ quick fix for dementor-inducted despair. Even in the dark, we were afraid to Disapparate until the rows below started to fill up a bit so that two missing moviegoers would go unnoticed.”

“Did Remus tell you about the three jump rule? How it’s used to mask your true destination and avoid being followed,” Molly clarified.

Hermione nodded. “Only I wasn’t familiar with any of the spots that he had mapped out in advance, so I ended up having to do a Side-Along Apparition for the first two jumps. Both places were desolate: the first a lonely stretch of beach, the last one atop a windswept cliff that I can only imagine must have been somewhere in Cornwall.”

“Sounds like some of the spots where the professor likes to go hiking,” Harry offered.

“They may have been lovely in the late spring or summer,” Hermione agreed, “but I was chilled to the bone almost immediately. To make matters worse, I could tell as we practically collapsed in a heap after the second jump, that without a bit of rest and nourishment, Remus didn’t have it in him to do a third jump. So we rested a bit in a rare patch of sunlight atop a flat stone, munched on another bit of chocolate, and planned our next move more carefully. I suggested the abbey at Glastonbury or Stonehenge as alternatives since we would be able to Apparate there individually; but Remus surmised that if the dementors had been sent specifically to create havoc among Muggles, then any popular tourist destination was also at risk. In the end, we settled for Ottery St. Catchpole as it was within walking distance of the Burrow and I was familiar enough with it to be in the lead. At least that way we wouldn’t be inadvertently inviting anyone right to your back door.”

“You walked all the way from Ottery St. Catchpole?” Ron asked in disbelief.

“It’s only a mile or two.” Hermione shrugged. “We’ve walked it lots of times.”

“Not after an ordeal like that,” Molly returned. “I’d better go down to the root cellar and get some vegetables started for supper.”

“Would you like some help, Mum?” Ron offered.

“You keep Hermione company for now,” Molly suggested.

“Would you be offended if I stepped outside for some air?” Hermione posed. “I could keep lookout on the back porch for Ginny and Tonks.”

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Molly agreed, then motioned to Ron that he should accompany Hermione.

Harry looked around and noticed that Bill had left the room unnoticed at some point during Hermione’s narrative.

“I’d be glad to lend you a hand,” Harry volunteered.

“I know, dear,” Molly replied kindly, “but it will do me good to keep my hands busy on a meaningless task. Makes it seem like everything is back to normal, even if it isn’t. If I let you help, we’ll be finished too soon…. Why don’t you join the men in the kitchen? I saw Bill go in there a little while ago.”

Harry slowly opened the kitchen door to find that Arthur, Lupin and Bill were deep in conversation. A nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey and three glasses were on the table between them.

“�”and I don’t think Africa or Malaysia will do, despite the strong British presence there. Tonks is the only one that can skillfully go native,” Lupin was explaining intently, his back to the door. “So I think we will have to concentrate on either Australia, New Zealand, or possibly even--”

Harry could see that both Bill and Arthur were signaling Lupin with their eyes to indicate that they were no longer alone. Lupin turned and seeing who it was, immediately smiled in welcome. “Harry, I didn’t hear you come in. Why don’t you join us?”

Arthur pulled out a chair between him and Lupin, then moved the Firewhiskey out of the immediate way.

“Planning a trip?” Harry remarked lamely, suddenly feeling like an interloper as he sat down in the chair.

“Not exactly,” was Arthur’s careful reply. But it was the look that passed between the three men that made Harry feel uncomfortable, like he’d walked in on a secret meeting.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted Order business,” Harry offered.

“It’s not business for the Order,” Arthur explained. “It was just a private discussion that concerns only this family �“ or rather, these two families �“ in light of Remus’ recent marriage.”

“You should probably make that three families,” Bill interjected. “I would very much like to include Fleur in our plans.”

“Of course,” Lupin agreed. “Only right now, the discussion has been limited to just the three of us. If no one has any objections, I recommend that we include Harry.”

Both Bill and Arthur acquiesced but Harry was more certain than ever that there was still something unspoken passing between them.

Lupin addressed Harry point blank, “You have to understand what a serious matter this is, Harry. We’re not talking about an embarrassing secret that you’re keeping for a friend, or the headmistress’ attempts at rumor control, this is life or death. Even though all of our family members will be included in this, right now we four will be the only ones that know. You are not to discuss this with anyone outside of this room.”

Harry nodded solemnly that he understood.

“There may come a point in our upcoming fight against Voldemort that we realize that the battle is unwinnable. That we need to retreat, reform and return to fight another day,” Lupin explained.

“It is not our intention to throw our lives away uselessly,” Arthur stressed.

“To that end, Arthur and I have been developing a Plan B, to be implemented only in the direst of circumstances,” Lupin continued. “It will allow us to meet up again on safer ground and mount our resistance from there.”

But Harry understood only too clearly: if they ever implemented Plan B, it was because Plan A had failed. And he was Plan A �“ he’d known that for years. There would be no need to include Harry Potter in Plan B, he would already be dead. Suddenly, the meaning of the guarded looks between the men was obvious.

With great effort, Harry willed himself to think only of the present moment. Play the charade that is being put before you, he urged himself. It was a small price to pay for being treated as an equal by Lupin and the others.

“I still maintain that you are in charge of herding too large a group, Arthur,” Lupin resumed. “Large groups are just that much more likely to give themselves away.”

“Your point is well taken,” Arthur conceded. “I am delegating Charlie to Bill. Considering that he will also have to deal with the Delacours, including Fleur’s little sister, that puts a rather heavy burden on him to round up those that are outside of the country.”

“Then let me take--” Lupin began, only to be silenced by Arthur gravely shaking his head.

“I cannot allow you take any of my children, Remus,” Arthur intoned softly. “They are my responsibility. Hermione must come with my group as well �“ we will be depending upon her expertise in order to disappear seamlessly among the Muggles. As for Harry, you and Harry should not travel together. You know we’ve been over this before.”

Lupin looked like he was going to protest again, but Bill looked him straight in the eye and offered in a sympathetic tone, “We understand how you feel about this, Remus, but you have to let cooler heads prevail.”

Lupin sighed and nodded in resignation.

“Has anyone taken Hermione’s parents into account?” Harry was motivated to ask.

“Not to worry,” Arthur assured him. “We already have a way to contact the Grangers. Bill and I will see that they are included in one of our groups.”

Noting that Arthur kept glancing in the direction of the window, Harry adjusted his seat casually so that he could simply turn his head slightly to follow the line of sight. Hestia was still at her post at the end of the lawn, a dark smudge in the dwindling afternoon light. Then in the foreground, illuminated intermittently by the kitchen’s warm glow, Harry saw what had drawn Arthur’s attention. Ron and Hermione, both of them wrapped in warm coats and then wrapped around one another.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I think I’d like to have a quick word with Hestia,” Arthur mumbled as he rose from his chair.

The minute he left the room, Bill and Harry broke out the smirks they had been doing their best to hide. Lupin turned just in time to witness what appeared to be a conversation of sorts �“ except that Ron’s and Hermione’s lips were barely separated by enough space to form any words.

“How long have they been like that?” Lupin inquired, unable to keep from half-smiling himself.

“Since about the time Harry joined us,” Bill observed with a deep chuckle.

“And it took Arthur that long to notice?” Lupin asked incredulously.

“Actually, I think he’s been watching them for quite a while,” noted Bill noncommittally.

“Do you think he went out there to say something to them?” Harry posed as he wondered if fireworks were on the horizon.

“Well, it’s certainly his call,” Lupin observed philosophically. “Although, if that were the case, I would have expected him to do so much sooner. Can’t say that it’s an unexpected reaction under the circumstances. People always want to celebrate life when they feel like they’ve had a brush with death.”

“If that’s how you would classify your experiences today, Remus, perhaps I should go down to the cellar and find another bottle of Firewhiskey,” Bill suggested sagely as he made his way towards the door.

“Was it really that bad?” Harry asked, turning to address Lupin directly.

“Only the dementors,” Lupin admitted. “Hermione held up her end very well. I don’t think I could have done that last bit of Apparition without her assistance.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Remus,” Harry remarked. “Hermione is always so self-assured in her practice sessions that it’s difficult to imagine that she gets flustered when she’s put on the spot.”

“You think she’s the only one?” Lupin whispered closely as he draped his arm casually across Harry’s shoulder.

Harry turned to him in shock. “Remus, you’re shaking like a leaf!”

Lupin sat down heavily and ran trembling fingers through his hair. “My point exactly. We don’t know what’s out there and my imagination is just making it worse. But you shouldn’t be so hard on Hermione, either. You should never confuse bravery with fearlessness.”

Harry nodded in mute agreement.

“What you’re thinking isn’t necessarily correct, you know,” Lupin added very softly.

Harry had seen Lupin do this enough to know that it was no mere parlor trick. “How so?” he urged, knowing that Lupin would fill in all the gaps for him.

“It isn’t a foregone conclusion that Plan B will only be put into play in the event of your death, Harry. Unexpected circumstances always have a way of stepping in. There is no guarantee that any of the rest of us will be around, either.”

Thankful for the words of comfort, Harry replied, “If it’s any consolation, I think the lump in my stomach is threatening to become radioactive if we don’t get an update on Tonks and Ginny soon.”

“I hate feeling powerless, as well,” Lupin commiserated.

---

The weak sun had reached the horizon when Bill returned with a dusty bottle clutched in his hand, followed closely by Arthur. They had barely sat down at the table, however, when the door swung open to admit Molly, a basket of vegetables balanced on her hip.

“Please tell me that you’re going to wait until after supper to open a second bottle, Arthur,” Molly suggested in a stern voice. “Remus looks like he’ll collapse from nerves if he doesn’t get some food in his stomach first.”

Lupin started to protest, but decided it was best not to try to stare Molly down. Knowing that she had won the battle, Molly turned her attention towards the stove and began the preparations for dinner. Before long, the redolent smell of roasting chicken and vegetables filled the kitchen and attempted to nudge the rock from the pit of Harry’s stomach.

Harry half-listened to the quiet conversations around him as the familiar warm glow of the Weasley kitchen tried to reassert itself. Ron and Hermione had returned from outdoors and were whispering in the corner, oblivious to those around them. Arthur and Bill were having a discussion about whether the time had come to protect the Burrow with a Fidelius Charm and what Hestia’s take on today’s events had been. Harry could tell that Lupin was much too distracted with worry to add more than a stray phrase or two; but at least Lupin didn’t hesitate to hold Harry’s gaze periodically, and he found a surprising amount of silent comfort in that.

As they heard the jovial tones of Fred and George coming up the back walk, Molly excused herself, indicating that perhaps they had some news. She wiped her hands on her apron and went into the living room to greet them. Everyone’s attention was riveted on the kitchen door as it swung shut.

In the next heartbeat, the door swung open with a great bang and Ginny strode boldly into the room. Taking in the glum faces around the table and the empty glasses, she observed, “I sure hope you saved some Firewhiskey for me!”

Immediately, she was engulfed in a deluge of hugs from all directions. Harry lifted his eyes to look around the room for Tonks, not wanting to remove his cheek from Ginny’s silken hair. He saw that Molly was smiling broadly from the open doorway, and beyond her, he could see the figures of Lupin and Tonks. Reluctantly, he disengaged himself from Ginny with a final squeeze and made his way into the living room.

Lupin and Tonks were alone in the middle of the room, eyes closed, and holding each other so tightly that Harry felt immediately as if he were intruding. Tonks looked up as if to say something, but Lupin just shook his head slightly to indicate that no words were necessary.

“Don’t leave, Harry,” Tonks whispered softly and then motioned for him to join the embrace.

Harry had barely noticed that Lupin was no longer trembling when he felt himself being hugged by the twins as well. He could see Hermione’s smiling face over Tonks' shoulder, then somehow Ginny was there, and then Ron, and then he just lost track. It had been a very long time since he had felt this happy and he didn’t want the moment to end. Slowly, they disentangled their arms from one another as, once again, everyone began to talk and laugh at the same time.

“Remus, Tonks, surely you both will be joining us for dinner?” Arthur asked convivially as he put an arm around each of them.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Arthur,” Tonks replied, “but we really must get back to my parents’ house. They’re expecting us.”

“Another time then,” Molly offered as she came to bid them a happy Christmas.

Hermione skidded to a stop in front of Lupin and offered him her rucksack, “Don’t forget your purchases. I sorted mine out already.”

“But Hermione, this is your rucksack--” Lupin began.

“You can return it to me later.” Hermione shrugged. “Oh, Remus, it’s just a rucksack. Who cares?”

“Happy Christmas, Tonks. I can’t thank you enough for bringing my daughter home safely,” Arthur insisted as he and Molly engulfed Tonks in another hug.

“It was really nothing,” Tonks demurred. “Happy Christmas to you as well.”

Harry watched as Hermione impetuously stood on tiptoe and gave Lupin a kiss on the cheek before engulfing him in a huge bear hug. Lupin hesitated for only the briefest moment before returning the hug and then bending his head to return the kiss gently on Hermione’s forehead.

Harry felt Ginny’s head rest against his shoulder as she, too, was transfixed by the scene before her. He could see that she was smiling just like he was. He caught Tonks’ eye from across the room and her grin widened in response.

Lupin finally whispered, “Hermione, please, you’re embarrassing me.” But as she broke away, he made a point of catching her hand and addressing her directly, “Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to convince me.”

“Happy Christmas, Remus,” Hermione replied simply.

After a final round of holiday well-wishing, Lupin and Tonks shrugged into their coats and scarves and waved farewell as they walked hand-in-hand into the Weasley’s backyard. Hermione’s rucksack was silhouetted against Lupin’s back as they exchanged greetings with Hestia.

Harry continued to watch their faint outlines from the kitchen window. Before they Disapparated into the night, Tonks and Lupin also took a moment to celebrate their recent brush with death. It was a long, lingering moment �“ Harry could see them silhouetted before the gathering twilight �“ not that he begrudged them their happiness one bit.

---

Harry absently watched Hestia walk up to the back door for a brief exchange with Molly and Arthur.

“It’s long past the time that I should be returning home,” she began, “but I didn’t want to leave before the last of the girls returned. I’ve sent a Patronus to Kingsley about today’s situation and I expect he will be by at any moment. Be sure and ask him about the Fidelius Charm, Arthur.”

It was a joyous celebration at dinner that night as Ginny retold some of her experiences with Tonks throughout the meal. It made for a funny story, at least in the way that Ginny recounted it, and soon everyone was laughing uproariously. Harry wondered if this was a technique Ginny had learned at Lupin’s knee, but didn’t see that there was any reason to share his observation with the others.

Molly was exceptionally proud that they had demolished the meal in record time as everyone’s appetite seemed to have returned sevenfold. Harry couldn’t remember simple roast chicken having ever tasted so good in his mouth. Kingsley Shacklebolt joined them in time for pudding and was still lingering in the kitchen with Arthur, valiantly finishing off the last of the open bottle of Firewhiskey. The quiet drone of their conversation in the background was a pleasant backdrop as Harry settled down in front of the fire after bidding good night to Bill and the twins. He was soon joined by Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, none of whom were eager to turn in so early after a large meal, especially when they did not have work or school the next day.

“I can’t believe Dad is actually considering casting a Fidelius Charm,” Ron commented.

“You weren’t out there today, Ron; it was pretty scary at times,” Ginny responded. “Just because the Muggle media has every anti-Christian group claiming credit, you can’t argue with the presence of dementors.”

“Did you actually see any first-hand?” Harry asked.

“It’s hard to say. There were so many panicking Muggles when we did our first jump to the zoo, that it wouldn’t surprise me if dementors had been the underlying cause. There were a number of questionable shadows in the background, too, but it could have just been a trick of the light. We didn’t linger very long after Tonks knocked over that long row of dust bins in her haste.” Ginny suppressed an involuntary giggle. “But the dementors were certainly in clear view on the television at Tonks’ parents’ house…. Sounds like you and Remus had a tougher time of it, Hermione.”

“In large part because we weren’t able to duck into a boutique dressing room to Disapparate,” Hermione observed wryly as Ron and Harry chuckled.

“It wasn’t that easy to find a store that wasn’t shooing everyone away,” Ginny clarified.

Harry felt a need to pose the question that had been preying on his mind. “If you don’t mind me asking, Hermione, what exactly transpired this afternoon? Lupin made a big point of thanking you.”

“I pretty much told you already,” Hermione allowed with a small shrug. “Remus’ stamina was substantially tapped out after the second jump, so I had to convince him to let me take the lead for the third.”

“He didn’t want to delegate the responsibility easily, did he?” Harry surmised, instantly understanding the situation.

“Practically fought me tooth and nail,” Hermione admitted.

“He does have a stubborn streak. How did you finally convince him?” Harry inquired, knowing that it had probably been a monumental task.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t by reasoning logically with him,” Hermione explained. “He could counter any argument that I posed. It was maddening, actually; it was like he was continually two or three steps ahead of my reasoning.”

Harry commiserated with a knowing nod of his head.

“Finally, I got so exasperated with him, I just told him that if he got himself splinched, I was just going to pile all the little pieces into a wheelbarrow and deliver them personally to Madam Pomfrey!” Hermione declared.

Ginny lifted her eyebrow archly and observed, “You must have been quite a sight atop that windy cliff, shouting over the crashing of the waves on the rocks below.”

“Does the term ‘banshee’ come to mind for anyone else?” Ron quipped.

“What happened next, Hermione?” Harry asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“Remus started laughing, muttering that ‘she would really like that’, although at first I didn’t understand what he meant at all. Then he turned to me and said, ‘Well, you might as well get a red suit and a bunch of tiny reindeer then, because Poppy Pomfrey is going to think that’s the best Christmas present she’s ever received!’” Hermione couldn’t stop herself from smiling crookedly at how much more amusing a tale it seemed in retrospect.

Everyone burst out laughing, including Hermione. “That’s the way I reacted also,” she admitted when she was finally able to speak once again. “Once we finished laughing ourselves silly, Remus simply designated me as second-in-command.”

“Is he always like that?” Ron asked incredulously.

Harry nodded meaningfully. “It would probably surprise you how many things we’ve laughed about in our lessons. It’s a particularly effective technique for keeping the demons at bay.”

“How does he find the absurdity in these circumstances?” Hermione decried.

“That’s just the way his sense of humor is skewed. Obviously, not everyone can do it �“ although I suspect Tonks can to some degree,” Ginny commented sagely.

At Harry’s urging, Ginny told them a bit more about the afternoon she had spent with Tonks and her mother, Andromeda, who she had ended up liking very much -- even though she turned out to be the polar opposite of her daughter. When her father, Ted, arrived home from work, it was obvious how much Tonks favored him yet there were elements of her mother’s personality that would come through in peculiar little ways, Ginny noted. After a while, it became obvious to Harry that he was the only one that was listening to Ginny’s words, but that suited him just fine. It had been a very long time since they had enjoyed a long, companionable conversation and Harry found that he missed that element of her company almost more than anything else.

In those quiet moments, with the last of the firelight flickering in the depths of her eyes, amid the quiet susurration of conversation from the next room, and secure in the knowledge that Ron and Hermione were once again lost in their own world, Harry was seized by the overwhelming desire to tell Ginny everything, to lay out his heart completely. He took her hand and slowly brought it to his lips, running his thumb gently across her knuckles. Taking a deep breath, he felt the words forming on his lips, knowing that they could never be taken back. He could tell he had her undivided attention.

“Ginny, I…” he began tentatively, but his words were cut short by the sound of the kitchen door opening and Arthur showing Shacklebolt to the back door.

“I will keep you posted of any new developments,” Shacklebolt was saying. “I hope Remus is able to give us his initial impressions before he leaves on holiday. Otherwise, we will need to wait until he returns to get a more in-depth analysis. His destination is too far away to risk either an owl being intercepted or a Patronus giving his true location away. I would not expect him to expose himself in such a manner.”

“I will likewise keep you abreast of any new developments until our next official meeting,” Arthur promised. “In the meanwhile, happy Christmas, Kingsley.”

“Happy Christmas to you and the rest of your family, Arthur,” Shacklebolt returned, then catching sight of the four that were still lingering in the living room he added, “Harry, Hermione, happy Christmas to you as well.”

They echoed his sentiments and waved from across the room, Ron’s and Ginny’s voices also adding to the mix.

After bolting the back door securely, Arthur turned to face them. “I didn’t realize there were still any stragglers downstairs. Don’t you think it’s time you went to bed?” he added with a meaningful look.

Arthur was the last one up the stairs, extinguishing the lights behind them with a simple command.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 35
The Greenhouse



Despite the satisfaction of a wonderful meal, Harry did not sleep well. The day had been an emotional roller coaster of sorts and his thoughts were in turmoil for much of the night. When he woke, it was with the realization that he needed to speak with Bill before the man left for work that morning.

Seeing Harry’s resolute expression, Bill grabbed a mug of hot coffee and suggested that they take a walk outside. Despite the icy ground, it was going to be a sunny day today and the morning’s rays were a welcome change from yesterday’s monochrome palette. Harry zipped up his jacket tightly and shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep them warm. He hazarded a look at Bill and was surprised to note the stark map of white scars that crisscrossed his cheeks and part of his forehead, courtesy of his battle the night of Dumbledore’s death. They had been much less noticeable in the lambent glow of firelight.

They walked a short distance from the house in silence before Harry felt secure enough to voice his concerns.

“Assuming Plan B gets put into effect, how are we going to survive among the Muggles without any of their money? Most of us won’t have any of the necessary paperwork to gets jobs,” Harry began.

“I’ll make sure that the galleons are changed into Muggle bills,” Bill explained. “We already have a small stockpile stashed in a vault so it will not attract the undue attention that doing a large exchange transaction all at once would. Still with the daily deposits from Fred’s and George’s stores, it’s not that difficult to slip a couple of extra transactions through unnoticed. Why do you ask?”

“I want to add the money that my parents left me into the mix,” Harry stated unequivocally.

Bill looked at Harry shrewdly before shaking his head. “I can’t let you do that. You should not tie up all of your assets in the case of a contingency that may never come to pass.”

“But if it does come to pass, I don’t expect we’ll have a lot of advance warning,” protested Harry.

“That’s true, but there are documents that can be drawn up that would allow someone at the bank to proceed on your behalf. Someone like myself, if that’s what you wished,” Bill explained.

Harry nodded that he understood and then took a deep breath before proceeding to the true heart of the matter. “What about in the case of my death? How can I make sure that my assets are forwarded to the proper parties?”

“Those documents can be drawn up, also. But Harry, this is not a simple matter; there are a lot of factors to take into account, lots of different options. You really should talk to someone, an estate agent, who is much more knowledgeable about such things.”

“I appreciate your advice, Bill, but time is of the essence here. This is not something that I can resolve once I go back to Hogwarts, not without sacrificing the confidentially that I wish to maintain,” Harry replied, allowing the urgency to spill into his voice. “What if I told you that I wished to draw something up on a temporary basis and then still have the option to fine tune it in the future? Is that something that you could handle for me?”

“Yes, but Harry, these are not decisions that should be made on the spur of the moment,” Bill demurred.

“I agree completely, but I really need to know that everything’s not in total limbo should Voldemort decide to strike three weeks from now.” Harry hoped his earnestness would be apparent to Bill.

“Right, I see your point as well,” Bill conceded. “But I won’t be able to have anything for you before I leave for France this evening. How about when I get back in a week’s time?”

“That would be fine,” Harry concurred. “Nothing fancy, just divide the assets equally among the following people.” He handed Bill the strip of parchment on which he had hastily scrawled: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lupin, Hagrid. “Five equal parts. And, Bill, you must tell absolutely no one, I cannot stress that enough.”

“I understand, Harry.” Bill nodded solemnly. “But, in return, I must have your promise that you will revisit these issues in the near future. Once you can do so without having an Order member as your ball-and-chain.”

The handshake between them was somber, but Bill followed Harry’s smile of gratitude with a hearty slap on the back.

“It will all turn out all right,” he assured Harry. “That’s what Plan B’s are really all about: to keep Fate from being so sorely tempted to pull the rug out from under you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I have just enough time to gobble some eggs and toast before I have to leave for Gringott’s. Always a pleasure doing business with you, Harry.”

“Likewise.”


Harry took a brisk turn around the yard to warm himself up before turning in the direction of the back door. He felt an indescribable sense of relief that he had completed the chore painlessly with Bill instead of having dealt with any so-called experts.

---

He encountered Ginny as he was returning downstairs from a hot shower.

“Mum was wondering if you were still hungry for breakfast,” she asked. “She expects that you worked up an appetite after your hike around the yard.”

“I did, Ginny.” Harry smiled in return. “But I didn’t dress warmly enough in the first place, so I couldn’t just go in to breakfast when I got back.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand once you tell her,” Ginny returned. He was almost past her safely when the touch of her hand on his arm stopped him in mid-stride. “Harry, what were you going to say to me last night before you were interrupted?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he whispered. “This is neither the place nor the time.” Giving her hand a quick squeeze, he avoided direct eye contact as he made his way past.

Upon entering the warm kitchen, Harry discovered that Mad-Eye Moody would be on guard duty for the day.

“Figured Hestia was due for a change of scenery,” he growled amicably to Molly. “Can’t say that a day in the country didn’t appeal to me after the mayhem in London yesterday. It’s not like I have any last minute holiday shopping on my agenda, neither. Morning, Harry,” Moody added without actually turning in the direction of the door.

“You’re a hard one to sneak up on, old man,” Harry replied in greeting as he swung himself into the chair opposite. Molly immediately placed a full plate in front of him. “Sorry for the delay, Mrs. Weasley, I couldn’t face the day without a hot shower first.”

“Quite all right, Harry, dear,” she replied warmly. “Ginny was a bit worried about you so it gave her a bit of a pretext to go looking for you.”

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Harry?” Mad-Eye asked with interest. “Molly tells me she and Ron will be going down to the village, so it looks like it’s just you, me, and Hermione--”

“�”me, too,” exclaimed Ginny as she plopped herself down next to Moody to savor another cup of cocoa. “You don’t mind if I bow out, Mum, do you? I’ve had enough of shopping for a while. I bought way too much stuff yesterday!”

“Did you manage to bring some coins back in your pockets?” Moody winked at her.

“Quite a few as a matter of fact,” Ginny replied earnestly. “Tonks knew where all the best bargains were. Which reminds me, I have something I need to ask Hermione…”

As she dashed out of the room, Molly picked up the empty cocoa mug and turned towards the sink to hide her smile.

“What’s the big secret, Molly?” Moody’s non-magical eye twinkled in her direction. “You know you can’t hide from me.”

“Oh, Alastor, you always see right through me,” Molly conceded as she turned to them with a conspiratorial look. “Now promise me you won’t tell anyone else �“ that includes you, too, Harry…. Ginny outdid herself recruiting business for Fred and George this fall, what with the Halloween costumes and then gowns for the Slytherin girls; why the orders are still coming in. Only she wouldn’t take the full amount of commission the boys offered her in exchange, though it was only her due. Said she was only too happy to help a family member.”

“That sounds like Ginny,” Moody agreed.

“So Fred and George opened an account at Gringott’s in her name and deposited the extra earnings there,” Molly continued with a proud smile. “Yesterday, when Bill exchanged her galleons for Muggle bills, though, he used a ‘special rate’ that incorporated some of the additional amounts from her account. Ginny was too unfamiliar with Muggle money to know the difference, but it gave all of us who knew an extra bit of satisfaction to know that Ginny had a bit of a holiday bonus. I sure hope she remembered to buy something for herself!”

“I don’t think you have to worry on that account,” Hermione commented as she took a seat at the table. “I just finished casting an enlarging charm on her bedroom closet. She didn’t want to get in trouble for doing underaged magic herself.”

“That should keep Ginny occupied most of the morning then,” Molly observed. “Alastor was wondering what you had planned for today, dear.”

“Actually, I could do with some quiet time to work on my assignment for Professor McGonagall,” Hermione confessed. “She’s just taken over as my advisor and I don’t want to disappoint her with my first report. I haven’t even started on it.”

“I wanted to do a bit of research among Bill’s books as well,” Harry added.

“Sounds like you two have it all worked out then,” Molly returned with a smile. “I’ll leave you in Alastor’s capable hands while I nip down to the village. Anything you need? No? I hear Ron trooping down the stairs. See you around lunchtime.”

Hermione divided the last of the cocoa among the three of them as they watched Molly and Ron walk out of sight down the lane to Ottery St. Catchpole. In the soft winter sunlight, their ginger hair glowed like molten metal even though it was still cold enough to see their breath.

Moody turned to them with an impish look. “Are the ruins of the old glass greenhouse within the Weasley property? I think I’ve figured out how to turn it into a temporary hot house for sunny winter days. Can’t imagine a more peaceful place to do a bit of quiet studying, can you?”

“But, Mad-Eye, aren’t you supposed to be on guard duty?” Harry inquired with a sly grin. “Hestia made a big point of saying she couldn’t interact with us and still keep a lookout.”

“Ah well, that’s Hestia,” Moody grumbled happily. “I, on the other hand, can keep an eye on more than one thing at once. I’m the ultimate multi-tasker!” Catching the startled look on Hermione’s face, Moody just chuckled and volunteered, “What, girl, don’t you think Remus practices any of that Muggle slang you’ve been teaching him with the rest of us?”

Racing upstairs to get their study materials, Hermione ducked her head into Ginny’s room to let her know where they would be. From what little Harry could see through the open door, it looked like a multi-colored tornado had just rearranged the entire contents of her chamber. Glad that he was not being corralled into helping with that job, Harry hurried down the stairs to don his coat and gloves.

---

Moody’s idea of transforming the ruined Victorian greenhouse turned out to be truly inspired. The overgrown area that had been cleared over the summer had not grown back so it was mainly a matter of generating some warmth underneath the cold stone benches, adding some cushions Hermione transfigured from broken bricks, and turning the cracked center fountain into a hearth with the addition of bluebell flames courtesy of Moody’s wand. Moody used an unfamiliar variation of the incendio charm to warm the old, moss-covered flagstones so that their heat radiated upward, yet they were not so hot that they were uncomfortable to stand upon. Within the space of a few minutes, the same spell had heated the stone benches to a comfortable temperature as well. The sunlight warmed the broken glass walls enough to melt any of yesterday’s ice and the resulting puddles reflected the light like so many tiny mirrors.

Harry added a bubble shield that helped to contain the heat enough so that they would be comfortable without coats and gloves. It wasn’t warm enough for them to remove their heavy jumpers, but it was still a good approximation of a sunny autumn day. He quickly taught the others the spell to re-establish the shield and cautioned them that it was subject to collapse if hit with another spell or if it came in contact with their bodies, the latter imparting an unpleasant stinging sensation.

Although the renovations were only temporary, there was a fairy tale quality about the ruin that made it seem cozy as well as impossibly fragile at the same time, a rare soap bubble creation in a sea of turbulence. Harry had never thought of Moody as being much of a visionary, but it was clear he was going to have to re-evaluate his assessment.

Moody positioned himself so that he was outside the shield yet standing upon the old steps that led up to the greenhouse. Leaning comfortably against one of Hermione's pillows, he settled himself upon the steps so he could still benefit from the heated flagstones. Harry surmised that the man could keep an eye not only on the greenhouse interior, but also on the Burrow that was just visible through the bare tree branches.

Harry and Hermione spent most of the morning in companionable silence, each engrossed in their books from benches situated at opposite ends of the cracked fountain. The bubble shield softened ambient sounds so Harry found it easy to concentrate on the tales of ancient tombs within the fabled Valley of the Kings. By propping his book directly on the bench, the slightly tingling warmth to his hands made him feel that he had been transported to the sands of Egypt. He found the author’s effortless style quite engaging as it made everything seem murky and mysterious, but there was really very little that could be of assistance in his search for Horcruxes. Having reached the book's midpoint, he wondered whether it was even worth his trouble to continue to the end. After all, Bill had a whole shelf full of other books.

He thumbed through the remainder of the pages sluggishly, paying more attention to the infrequent diagrams than to the words themselves. He seemed to catch the word “Horcrux” out of the corner of his eye as he flipped impatiently, but then he couldn’t locate the exact page as he went back more carefully. The index did not have any such listing under the letter H. Assuming that the whole thing had not simply been a product of his imagination, Harry tried flipping through the pages more slowly, attempting to duplicate his earlier actions. There! He saw it again and managed to stop a few pages beyond it. He slowly scanned the paragraphs and found the word “Horcrux” in the middle of a lengthy description. He turned the corner of the page to mark the spot, but resolved that he would have to go back to the beginning of the chapter to get a good idea of what they were referring to in context.

Feeling as if he had at least accomplished something, Harry stood up from the bench and stretched his limbs languidly. Hermione was still bent over her book, making copious notes on a parchment pad next to her. He turned around to get the blood flowing into his legs and noticed that Ginny had joined Moody at his post.

Overcome with curiosity, Harry wandered over to the far wall to see what they were discussing so intently. As he neared, Ginny threw her head back in laughter but he could only distinguish the melodious sound very faintly through the shield. She looked up to find him watching and smiled in his direction. Moody turned around with a tea mug in his hand and brought down the shield with a curt wave of his wand.

“Was wondering when you’d be ready for a break,” he commented in his gravelly voice. “Ginny was kind enough to bring me some tea and then fill me in on how I inspired her to create an award-winning Halloween costume.”

“I could use a bit of tea myself,” Hermione remarked from the far bench as she lowered her quill and parchment. “I’ll just trot up to the house, if you don’t mind, stretch my legs in the process. Can I get you a mug, Harry?”

“Actually I could do with something cold after reading about the arid sands of Egypt,” Harry replied.

“I’ll see if I can find some butterbeer,” Hermione agreed. “I know how evocative books can be if the story catches your imagination.”

Ginny made to go past Moody into the greenhouse but he blocked her with his walking stick. “Just where do you think you’re going, missy?” he countered with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You could be just anyone trying to soften me up so you could get at the target here.”

“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to poison your tea then?” she returned roguishly.

“Have the antidote right here,” Moody rejoined as he patted the flask on his belt.

Ginny giggled playfully in response. “Patronus check?” she offered gamely, pulling out her wand.

“Not on your life!” Moody warned. “They’ll have you for underaged magic in a heartbeat. You’ll have to convince me of your true identity in some other manner.”

“And what exactly did you have in mind?” Ginny countered with a saucy hand on her hip.

Harry did his best to hide his smirk as he waited for Moody’s next move. Perhaps he could get a few ideas on how to deal with this situation if he encountered it again, he thought to himself.

“Let me see,” Moody screwed up his face into a fearsome scowl. “What embarrassing little facts can I get you to divulge to me to prove yourself?”

“You wouldn’t know if they were true or not,” Ginny replied with flawless logic.

“Naw, but I sure would enjoy watching you squirm,” Moody attested with a sharp laugh.

“Tell you what, old man, how about if I show you the mole on the back of my neck?” Ginny suggested.

Moody shook his head. “Polyjuice Potion would replicate that in a second. Got any ideas, Harry?”

Suddenly put on the spot, Harry didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he could think of tons of personal facts about Ginny, mostly involving himself as well, but he was dead certain he didn’t want Moody to know any of those.

“Er…I’m not really good at these types of games,” he confessed.

Moody glanced at Ginny, and realizing that he had finally hit home with his teasing, decided to let up. “Go ahead, nobody can manufacture that combination of chagrin and consternation,” he relented, backing up the steps to let her pass. Hobbling over to Harry’s side, Moody muttered, “Don’t be so modest, lad; you did a great job of calling out Severus Snape when it counted!”

“The headmistress swore everyone to--” Harry choked, then stopped as the error of his reasoning became evident. “That didn’t apply to members of the Order, did it?”

Moody shook his head as a playful smile curled on his lips. “But I wouldn’t let it bother you. You’ve become a bit of a folk hero at that.” Seeing that Ginny was examining the renovations in more detail, Moody added with a knowing wink, “I’ll just be over here if you need me.”

Suppressing an involuntary shiver, Harry noted that the ambient temperature had already dropped considerably in the short time that the shield had been released. He indicated to Moody that he was re-establishing it temporarily until Hermione returned from the house.

Harry sat down on the same bench he had previously occupied and laid his hands, palms down, on the stone to warm them. The radiating heat worked its way into his shoulders and upper torso as well. He continued to watch Ginny as she made her way around the old fountain, entranced by all the enhancements that had been made.

“Come sit next to me, the benches are warm,” Harry offered as he scooted over to one side. Noticing that her eyes had been drawn to the pillows, he added, “Hermione transfigured those; who knows how long the spell will actually hold?”

Ginny positioned herself at the far end of the bench so she could turn around half-way to face Harry directly. The bench was not made to hold more than two or three persons, so in reality she was still sitting relatively close, but Harry was relieved that there was enough empty air between them to keep his hammering heart in check. Suddenly, he had no idea what to say to her and he was not about to take up their conversation from the night before right there in front of Moody.

“Were you planning on keeping this delightful refuge to yourselves?” she asked with mock innocence. Something in her tone seemed to warn Harry to be careful where he stepped.

“It’s just an impromptu study area. Moody’s idea actually,” Harry commented with a small shrug. “You’re welcome to join us if you have something quiet on which to work. It’s rather pleasant reading in natural light.”

“I’m sort of in the middle of a different type of project,” she admitted with a hint of regret. “I just came down to have a word with you before Mum and Ron got back.”

This had all the hallmarks of a disaster, Harry intoned inwardly, but he didn't know how to avert it. She was sounding too much like all the other girls he’d encountered �“ and too little like herself. He let his skepticism show in his gaze.

Ginny hesitated momentarily, then ploughed ahead, “There’s really no way to sugar-coat this. Robert Anderson asked me to go out with him before we left for Christmas �“ earlier than that even, but I’d told him I wasn’t ready to see anyone then �“ but I think I’m going to accept his offer when we get back to school… There, I’ve said it.” Then in a softer tone, she added, “I wanted you to hear it from me.”

Harry felt such a rush of emotions that it would take him days to properly sort through them all, but he knew that she was expecting him to say something in return. “If that’s what you want, Ginny,” was all he could manage.

“I’m really sorry, Harry.”

No, you’re not, his insides screamed as he ignored the sincerity in her tone, you’re just trying to force my hand. He fed the defiance that he suddenly felt into his eyes to mask the pain and then turned to her with feigned calmness. “You don’t really owe me any explanation. You don’t really owe me…anything.” He stopped there, knowing his voice might not make it any further.

Harry stared fixedly at his feet, willing the rise and fall of his chest to return to normal, knowing that if he looked up now she would see that his eyes were swimming. It seemed like Ginny sat there silently for a long period of time and he wondered whether this encounter had proceeded in the manner that she had originally intended. Well, that was not his problem, he thought callously.

Finally he heard the unmistakable sounds of her standing up and walking slowly towards the greenhouse exit. At the last moment, he lowered the shield bubble so that she could pass through harmlessly. Harry watched her walk doggedly up the slight incline to the Burrow, the image wavering in and out of focus before his eyes.

Abruptly he felt a wave of anger wash over him, urging him to action. He was tired of being everyone’s pawn, tired of feeling like he was constantly reacting to the chaos that others created before him. It was long past time that he stood up for himself. Not caring one whit for the consequences, he whipped out his wand and Apparated to a spot right behind Ginny.

Before the quiet popping noise alerted her to his presence, he had grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around to face him. Their bodies were so close that he could feel her heartbeat through the rise and fall of her ribcage. Inexplicably, the anger that he had felt just moments before evaporated like so much smoke. Wordlessly he kissed her softly and tenderly, the soft brush of his lips in counterpoint to the iron grip he still maintained on her wrist. When he was certain that her internal turmoil was equal to his, he released her and walked resolutely back down the hill to the greenhouse without looking back.

Harry sat down woodenly on the stone bench and waited. He thought he’d seen Moody and Hermione watching them from the shadows of the front porch, but right now he really didn’t care. Even though he could feel that the air had become bitterly cold around him, the blood in his veins felt overly hot in contrast. He looked up when footsteps told him that Ginny was standing right before him. He turned solemn eyes to hers, entranced by the sparks that he found dancing in their depths. He could tell that she was teetering on the fine line between anger and tears. Good, he thought to himself, at least he’d done that right.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” she sputtered. “What was that supposed to mean? What’s the meaning of kissing me in that manner?”

Determined that this was one round she was not going to win, Harry looked at her defiantly and noted, “Goodbye. I was kissing you goodbye.”

With a calm demeanor that masked his inner pain, he reached for the book that he had marked and opened it to the dog-eared page. Not that any of the printed words were in focus, but there was no way Ginny could know that, Harry consoled himself. Without moving his head, he could see enough around the edges of the book to assure himself that she had not moved.

He waited a few long heartbeats and then softly ventured, “Ginny, please leave. I really don’t want to lose my temper with you.”

When Harry heard the distant sound of the Burrow door closing, he finally raised his head from the unread pages of the book. Moody and Hermione had returned to the ruined greenhouse.

“I hope you enjoyed the floor show,” he muttered as he shrugged into his coat with trembling hands. Already he knew that any satisfaction from his words and actions was going to be short-lived.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione implored, sitting down next to him and handing him a bottle of butterbeer. “I’ve never seen Ginny with such a murderous look on her face!”

“If you don’t mind, Hermione, I’d rather not talk about it right now. It’s going to take me awhile to sort through it myself, to tell you the truth,” Harry replied candidly. Already he could feel the fallout starting: his pulse had returned to normal only to be accompanied by a dull ache in his chest. “Right now I just feel like breaking something.”

“Why don’t we go for a walk then?” Moody suggested gruffly.

Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.

---

Chapter 36
Neville’s Nemesis


“Look, I don’t think I can do this!” Harry exclaimed, the cold panic washing over him as he gazed into the secret section of his seven-compartment truck. And to think that he’d actually been looking forward to returning to school after nearly three endless weeks at the Burrow.

“We’ve already gone over this, dear. This is just a dress rehearsal,” Molly cajoled gently as Ron and Hermione looked on. “The Order thinks it best if you return to Hogwarts by more clandestine means. No one will expect you to be hidden inside the trunk that the others take with them on the Knight Bus tomorrow. We have a spell that will shrink you in size so you’ll feel like you’re traveling in a huge stateroom.”

The very thought of being jostled around in a huge compartment by the torturous moves of the Knight Bus was enough to make him nauseous right then and there. “I don’t deny that it’s a clever plan in theory, but unless you’re willing to drug me or stupefy me, I’m not going in that trunk!” Harry sank down on the edge of the sofa, suddenly feeling unsteady. “Tell them I’ll Floo in at three in the morning if they insist on secrecy!”

“Mum, who’s idea was this?” he heard Ginny inquire from the direction of the stairs. She was the last person he expected to come to his defense considering they were hardly on the best of terms these days. “Because unless you want Harry’s brains to be just as scrambled as that moron that imprisoned Mad-Eye Moody in his trunk in the first place--”

“That was Barty Crouch, Junior, dear,” Molly interjected patiently. “And he was a Death Eater, not a moron.”

“Ah, Mum, I think that amounts to the same thing,” Ron observed.

“I have to stand behind Harry, also,” Hermione announced. “He should be allowed another alternative. I, for one, am not boarding the Knight Bus under these circumstances. Harry, you and I can walk back to Hogwarts on foot if we have to.”

“Arthur, what do you think?” Molly cried in desperation.

“Let me confer with Kingsley and I’ll see if we can come up with another plan for Harry,” Arthur offered diplomatically. “But I’m going to have to offer him some sort of assurance that the rest of you will return via the Knight Bus. You can be the decoys, so to speak.”

Harry walked over to the back door to watch Arthur send off a silvery weasel Patronus to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Arthur bent his head for a few words with Hestia who was back on guard duty before he turned around to return to the Burrow.

“We should have something back from Kingsley within a half hour or so,” he affirmed with a sigh.

“Why don’t the rest of you go up and start organizing your belongings for tomorrow?” Molly suggested sternly. “That way we will be ready for any contingencies.”

Harry hesitated at the foot of the stairs and then turned back. “Not to make too big a point of it, but what should use to pack my things seeing as how that’s my trunk in the middle of the living room?” he asked tentatively.

“Why don’t I see if I can rustle up an extra rucksack in Bill’s room, dear?” Molly offered. “I’ll bring it down to Ron’s room for you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry called after her, then walked over and sat down next to Arthur. “I’m sorry to be such a bother, Mr. Weasley. I feel like I’ve done nothing but disrupt your household since I got here.”

“Nonsense, Harry,” Arthur returned kindly. “It’s always chaos around here. Things are so uncertain out in the world today that I think everyone is on edge. If you still have trouble sleeping when you get back to Hogwarts, though, make a visit to Madam Pomfrey; that’s her job.”

“I will, Mr. Weasley. Thanks.”

They both turned towards the back door as Hestia poked her head inside. “Patronus from Kingsley to say: ‘Other arrangements have already been made. Please stand by.’ Don’t know what he means by that, but I’m sure we’ll find out shortly. I’ll be back at my post until then.”

A flash of silver from outside the window indicated that another Patronus had just arrived. The back door opened again to admit Tonks followed by Lupin.

“We’ve come to retrieve Harry,” Lupin announced curtly.

“Remus, Tonks,” Molly welcomed them as she came down the stairs. “How nice of you to come, but Harry wasn’t scheduled to return until tomorrow.”

“I know, Molly,” replied Tonks with a small smile, “but some of us have other duties tomorrow. Kingsley’s waiting outside to make up the third Order member in our group. I’m sorry to have to cut your holiday short, Harry.”

“Perfectly all right,” Harry replied with relief. At last, someone who could make a decision.

“Why don’t you throw a few things together quickly, Harry?” suggested Lupin. “I’m sure the others can bring the rest of your belongings with them tomorrow.”

Lupin’s authoritative tone left no room for argument as Harry nodded briskly and raced up the stairs. He threw his most important items into the bottom of the borrowed rucksack then added a few books from Bill’s collection that had proven useful.

“Ron, please pack the rest of my stuff and bring it with you,” Harry pleaded urgently.

“Sure, Harry. Is everything all right?”

“Something’s definitely up. I’ve never seen Lupin looking so cross, not a smile for anyone.”

“Do you think there have been any developments in the outside world we don’t know about?” Hermione ventured from the doorway, her voice laced with concern.

“Dunno,” Harry replied honestly as he gave her shoulder a squeeze in passing. “Thanks again for those great books you got me for Christmas. I didn’t dare take any in my rucksack in case I’m searched but will you please, please make sure that they are packed in my secret compartment tomorrow? Will you do that for me, Hermione?” He looked her earnestly in the eyes to make sure she understood. “I’ll get the other thing from you then as well.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, mate,” Ron assured him in parting.

Harry took the steps down two at a time and then made for the coat rack.

“Make sure you’re dressed extra warmly, Harry,” Lupin advised. “We’re headed for a different climate.”

Something about Lupin’s words seemed oddly familiar but Harry couldn’t place it immediately. Nonetheless, he threw on an extra sweatshirt from the top of his rucksack before shrugging into his coat.

With a final word of thanks to Arthur and Molly, Harry followed his escorts out onto the back lawn of the Burrow. Just beyond Hestia’s checkpoint, Kingsley Shacklebolt waited in the late afternoon sunlight.

Hestia stopped them at the end of the Weasley property. “Patronus check all around,” she demanded. “Harry has a right to know his traveling companions.”

Silver giraffe, wolf and panther materialized almost immediately. Harry took a few extra moments to produce a stag that galloped off to join the rest.

With a sigh of relief, Harry shook Kingsley’s hand in greeting.

“Sorry for all the extra security, Harry,” Kingsley offered. “Things are what they are.”

“This is going to seem like an unfamiliar procedure to you, Harry, but trust me it is perfectly routine,” Lupin explained, smiling for the first time since he’d arrived. “I will stand behind you in the lead position, Tonks and Kingsley will be in front and to the sides. The object is for us to encircle you, is that clear?” He waited for Harry’s nod before continuing. “Since our destination will only be accessible for a short period of time, this will be a one jump Apparition. I know that you’re familiar enough with the target to get there on your own, Harry, but you must relinquish all control to us in order for this to work. In case we get separated, the target is Professor McGonagall’s aerie. You do remember where that is?”

Of course, the change in climate. Harry smiled at the memory and nodded that he understood.

In less than a heartbeat, the four of them dissolved in a blaze of white smoke and reappeared seconds later atop the crenellated tower that Harry remembered. Before he had time to register that the sensation had not been as uncomfortable with the four of them together, Kingsley was firing off another Patronus to advise the staff at Hogwarts of their safe arrival.

“Here, take the key,” Lupin urged Kingsley as he turned over his pocket watch and chain. “Please make doubly sure that the headmistress closes the window. I will be down with Harry shortly. Tonks, please lock the door behind you and wait for my three knocks to reopen it.”

“I’ll be waiting for you down below then,” Tonks promised. She gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek and Lupin a slightly longer one on the lips before following Kingsley down the trap door.

“Remember to keep your eyes on Kingsley’s back and it won’t seem so steep going down,” Lupin called after her. Then turning to Harry, Lupin urged him to sit on the floor of the aerie so that he would not be visible over the ramparts. “I have no way of knowing exactly when the headmistress closes the window and we are still vulnerable until then,” he explained, assuming a low crouch himself.

“If you’ll forgive me for asking, Remus,” Harry began, “but why do I feel like I’ve just been rescued by a detail from the Order? Why would I need to be rescued from the Burrow?”

Lupin’s familiar grin was back as he engulfed Harry in a huge bear hug. “It sure is good to have you back, Harry! I didn’t mean to frighten you, but we were on a very tight schedule.”

“I’m glad to see you, too, Remus; you really have no idea,” Harry admitted with a deep sigh. “I thought I was going to go out of my mind when Molly explained the plan to get me back here on the Knight Bus. It was absolutely terrifying! I would have rather taken my chances on foot with Hermione.”

“If that was your back-up plan, Harry, I think it needed a bit of work,” Lupin observed with a chuckle.

“That was just a diversionary tactic,” Harry clarified, thinking on the spot. “Once their backs were turned, I figured I’d just Apparate into Hogsmeade village and take one of the secret tunnels back into the castle.”

“Much better,” agreed Lupin. “But what about your belongings?”

“I hadn’t worked out all the details yet,” Harry admitted with a grin.

Lupin laughed in the manner that always made Harry feel like his burdens had just been lifted. “Was it really that bad?” Lupin asked softly.

“Not all of it,” Harry allowed. “I did get a considerable amount of research done.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look very well rested to me. Have you been ill?”

“Not in the way that you mean, but I haven’t been able to sleep very well…”

“What’s the rest of the story, Harry?” Lupin urged sympathetically.

“It seems really silly in retrospect; can we just talk about it tomorrow? I think a full night’s sleep will do much for my perspective.”

“I’ll accept that. Just tell me this: how long has it been since you slept well?”

Harry sighed in resignation. He really didn’t want to make Lupin feel guilty for having enjoyed his own holiday, but at the same time he didn’t have the energy to concoct a lie, either. Settling for the unvarnished truth, he replied, “Since the day that you and Tonks took the girls shopping.”

“That was two weeks ago!” Lupin gasped. “Harry, you should have contacted me!”

“You were busy, you were with Tonks’ family, I didn’t know how to reach you. There were a thousand reasons…”

“You could have sent me an owl.”

“I overheard Kingsley tell Arthur that it was risky sending an owl when you were that far away; the owl might be intercepted.”

“Certainly when it comes to a confidential message from the Order,” Lupin conceded. “But Harry, all you had to say was: ‘I’m unhappy, I want to be someplace else’ and sign your name, even your initial would have been sufficient. You can’t get much vaguer than that.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Harry offered, knowing that he probably still wouldn’t have interrupted Lupin’s holiday. He was so bone tired, he felt like he was swaying on his feet �“ even though he was sitting down.

“Come,” Lupin urged him to his feet, grabbing the rucksack from Harry’s hand and hoisting it over his own shoulder. “I can’t carry you down these stairs. Take it slowly, if you need to. I’ll be right behind you.”

---

After sleeping like a dead man, Harry awoke the next day to the sound of a woman’s voice. What was a woman doing in his room? he thought groggily. As his brain shook off the last vestiges of sleep, he confirmed that it was not his imagination and that Tonks was genuinely sitting on the edge of his bed, talking to him softly. Her tone was unfamiliar to him but it was definitely her voice. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand so that everything swam into focus.

“Tonks, so it is you,” Harry observed, suppressing an involuntary yawn as he stretched his limbs. “I wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming.”

She smiled warmly down at him and tousled his hair affectionately. “We were worried about you. You realize you’ve been asleep for close to fourteen hours straight.”

“Essentially, but I did wake up sometime after midnight and changed out of my jeans and into my pajamas… Do you realize you have the most wonderful lilting quality to your voice when you speak softly?” Harry added with a smile of his own. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? I thought you reserved the extra favors for the Hufflepuffs.”

Tonks laughed and tossed a nearby cushion at him for his cheekiness. Rising to her feet, she turned to look down at him. “You never flirted like this with me before I became a married woman,” she returned playfully.

“No,” admitted Harry devilishly, “it would have been truly dangerous then!”

Still laughing merrily, Tonks retreated to the relative safety of the common room. The minute her back was turned, Harry climbed out of bed and tied his dressing gown over his pajamas. He searched for slippers in his rucksack but he must have left them at the Burrow. With a shrug, he walked out into the common room in bare feet. Tonks had curled up on one end of the sofa to wait for him in front of the fire.

“Just give me a moment to throw some water on my face,” Harry demurred as he started to duck through the wardrobe. “Is Neville still in his room?”

“Nope, checked that first thing when I came in. Didn’t want to startle him with my presence.”

Making sure he was out of target range, Harry added, “Too bad, he might have enjoyed one of your personal wake-up calls himself.”

“Harry Potter, you’re lucky I don’t deduct house points!” Tonks called from the other room.

No, house points were for amateurs, Harry thought with a pang as he remembered Ginny’s famous tagline.

“Would you like me to order you some breakfast?” Tonks offered as Harry joined her, still running fingers through his damp hair.

“Only if you’ll join me,” he stipulated as he sat at the opposite end of the sofa to face her directly.

“Ooooh, Harry, it’s still the middle of the night for me,” Tonks replied, screwing up her face. “I couldn’t possibly eat anything.”

“Let me see if there’s any cider in the cold cabinet then,” Harry suggested. As he poured them each a glass, he commented, “You do realize it’s almost nine in the morning, don’t you, Tonks?”

She nodded wearily. “Don’t remind me.”

“Just how late did the headmistress’ party run last night?” Harry inquired knowingly. “I read Remus’ note when I got up to change.”

“Let’s see, after we ducked back here to check on you one last time, I think we were back in our quarters at about four in the morning.”

He whistled appreciatively. “Must have been some party!”

“It was,” she returned, smiling dreamily. “You should have let Neville send us a message that you were all right when you woke up to change.”

“Neville was sound asleep by then. Believe me, if I thought it would have gotten me something better than a handful of butterbeers, I would have! I was so thirsty when I woke up I could hardly think of anything else.”

“Remus was worried about you the whole time. It’s a shame you weren’t coherent enough once he got you down to your room to teach you how to send a Patronus message.”

“I’m sorry, Tonks, all of that is a blur,” Harry admitted ruefully.

She smiled indulgently. “It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do for your exhaustion. You look much better this morning.”

Harry smiled at her caring tone then wondered, “Tonks, how did you get into these suites, not to mention into my room, without being zapped? Neville didn’t let you in himself, did he?”

“I got the emergency override from Remus,” she admitted with a small shrug. “He wasn’t too happy that all the incantations will have to be changed.”

“Was that at wand point or did you have to wrestle him for it?”

“All it took was a well-placed threat to report him to Poppy Pomfrey for staying out to all hours of the night and then not sleeping the requisite hours in the morning to make up for it,” Tonks confessed archly.

“But weren’t you his accomplice when it came to staying out all night?”

“Absolutely, but Poppy won’t see it that way! Trust me.”

“Tell me this then: why did the Order show up to extract me from the Burrow yesterday?” Harry entreated. “I asked Remus, but I don’t remember getting much of an answer.”

“You wouldn’t have, not then,” she conceded with a chuckle. “He went a little berserk when the message came through from Arthur to Kingsley. We were all having afternoon tea with the headmistress, none of us aware of the plan. I’m sure Kingsley heard me gasp. Remus knows that my childhood nightmares were of being locked away in a toy chest. We just took matters into our own hands at that point.”

“Thanks.”

“It didn’t help that it just reinforced all the worries that Remus had about your welfare over the break; regrets that he hadn’t insisted on bringing you with us.”

“Tonks, I couldn’t impose on your and your family--”

“Nonsense, you’re family, too. Accept it for what it is, Harry; Remus can’t help caring as much as he does.”

They turned at the sound of the sconce opening to admit Neville.

“Harry! You’re awake!” Neville greeted him warmly. “You were sleeping like a proverbial log when I came in last night. The professors came in to check on you before they went to their party. Left me in charge of sending any distress calls. Glad to see you’re looking much better.”

That was a big speech for Neville; Harry wasn’t sure exactly what to make of that. Then turning to Tonks, Neville surprised Harry further by posing, “Was it a good party after all, Professor?”

“Yes, it was, Neville.” Tonks flashed him her most radiant smile. “We got in a wee bit late, though.”

“I can just imagine.” Neville nodded sagely. “The pair of you looked like you were going to a gala celebration. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so enchanting -- like a regular fairy princess -- and Professor Lupin looked so dashing in his white tie and tails!”

“I sure hope you took pictures,” Harry remarked, wishing he’d gotten to see them firsthand.

“We did,” Tonks assured him. “I better get back now, Harry. If Remus wakes up and finds I’m not in the residence, I can’t vouch for what may happen. Good to see you, Neville.”

Harry walked Tonks to the exit then suddenly realized he was still in his nightclothes. “I was going to offer to walk you downstairs but I guess I’m not exactly dressed for it,” he issued with a self-conscious laugh, wiggling his bare toes.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied with a giggle. “You will come and have supper with us tonight, won’t you? Remus would never forgive me if I forgot to invite you.”

Harry had not been expecting this. “Of course, what time?”

“Let’s see, we’ll be doing Patronus checks all afternoon. Don’t remind me that I have myself to blame for that,” she noted wryly. “How about seven?”

“Perfect,” Harry agreed, giving her a hug in parting.

“Nothing fancy, you know. Just us.”

Still perfect, Harry thought to himself.

“We have pictures from our trip to show you,” she added with a wink.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Tonks, where did your family go over the holidays?” Harry asked, the curiosity finally getting the better of him.

“Africa,” she answered simply as the sconce cycled closed behind her.

---

A long, hot shower and a hearty breakfast later, Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower feeling like a new person.

At the grinding sound of the stone sconce, Neville poked his head into the common room and asked, “Harry, is that you? I was hoping to have a word before the others got back.”

“Sure, Neville,” replied Harry, feeling as if he had finally returned to his normal self.

He was caught short by the solemn �“ no, haunted �“ look on Neville’s face as he sat down to face him in front of the hearth. Outside it had started snowing again, but the fire lent the room a golden glow.

“Did something happen while I was away?” Harry returned, trying to not let the dire possibilities overwhelm his imagination.

Neville gulped noticeably and then nodded vigorously. Harry was struck by how much Neville seemed to have reverted to his younger, more timid self in the space of a heartbeat. That concerned Harry more than anything else as he waited patiently for Neville to begin.

Focusing his eyes deeply within the flickering flames, Neville finally found the courage to speak. “I heard a noise coming from your room last week. More like a voice, but it was echoing strangely. I thought maybe you or Ron had come back early. It could even have been Professor Lupin �“ it was definitely a man’s voice. No one answered my calls or my knocks, but the noise continued sporadically. Finally, I just walked in �“ sorry �“ but there was no one there. On my way out the door, I noticed the bureau shaking slightly like there was something inside trying to get out.”

The mirror, thought Harry immediately, it had to be the bloody mirror! After all of these months with no response.

He remembered clearly packing for the Christmas holiday: he had locked his most personal possessions into the bottom drawer of his desk together with the Patronus list and the old photo album that Hagrid had rescued from his parents’ house. At the last minute, he had added the Halloween photo of Ginny and the Omnioculars. The extra wand, he had wound carefully within the folds of his Invisibility Cloak and placed at the bottom of his trunk together with the Marauder’s Map �“ just in case he wanted to keep an eye on Hogwarts from afar. After much deliberation, he had decided the locket from Grimmauld Place was just too important to risk leaving behind, so he had left it untouched in the secret pocket of his seven-compartment trunk.

But the unresponsive mirror, he had left in the bottom drawer of his bureau. Right next to the log sheets that documented his failed attempts.

Neville’s narrative seemed to have stalled, so Harry decided to give it an extra push. “I have a two-way mirror in the bottom drawer, Neville. I assumed that it was no longer functioning since I’d had to reassemble the broken pieces with magic. I guess I was wrong.”

Neville nodded automatically, but his expression was still apprehensive.

“Was someone trying to communicate through the mirror? Did you open the bottom drawer, Neville? I won’t be angry with you for opening up my bureau, I promise. Neville, just talk to me!” Harry’s tone grew more urgent despite his attempts to stay calm for Neville’s sake.

Dear Merlin, Harry thought with dread, could it have been Sirius? Trying to contact him from beyond the veil, from the land of death? He voiced his concerns with a tongue that felt like it was covered with ashes.

Neville turned his head slowly and looked Harry in the eye as if he was finally seeing him for the first time. Very slowly, he shook his head to indicate ‘no’.

“Neville, you’re going to have to help me out here,” Harry entreated softly. “Otherwise, we’ll just be playing guessing games into the night.”

Impulsively, Harry jumped up from his chair and poured the last of the cider from the cold cabinet. Wordlessly, he handed the glass to Neville. Neville drank deeply and slowly, never taking his eyes from Harry’s face, looking for all the world like a lost urchin.

“He said I was to give the message only to you,” Neville said in a barely audible whisper. “That he had been trying to contact you for sometime now… And that I should ask you, no wait, I think he stressed that I should demand that you tell me about the prophecy.”

Let’s see here, Harry’s mind raced, who knew about the prophecy? Trelawney never remembered them, so that left Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, and himself. Slowly, the answer dawned on Harry: the one other person who knew, the one person who could generate such abject terror in Neville.

“Was it Severus Snape?” Harry dared to ask, his voice so quiet that it fell short of a whisper.

The intensity of the terror in his eyes said it all, but Neville nodded grimly to make doubly sure that Harry understood.

“What prophecy could he mean, Harry? I broke the prophecy when we were in the Ministry. Could there be another?”

“No, it’s the same one,” Harry admitted, feeling ambivalence over whether he should burden yet another person with his troubles. “The prophecy was originally pronounced to Dumbledore so he was able to recount it to me �“ even though the glass sphere had been smashed.”

Dumbledore had also said to share it only with Ron and Hermione, he reminded himself, but then Dumbledore was certain that the words pertained only to Harry. Dead certain �“ and perhaps dead wrong. There was so much yearning in Neville’s gaze that Harry made an impromptu decision.

“Neville, I promise we’ll come back to the prophecy in a moment, but I need to know a little more about this other…development…first. What else can you tell me about what happened with the mirror?”

“There’s not much else to tell,” Neville stammered. “He wasn’t very pleased that it was my face that he encountered �“ not that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Said he would make another attempt same day, same time, the following week, if he was able. And to make sure that you were nearby at that time. That’s today, Harry! It’s a week today.”

“Think back carefully, Neville, what time of day?”

“It was before lunchtime, that I know for sure,” Neville screwed up his face in concentration. “Closer to lunch than to breakfast time.”

Harry whipped his head around to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was nearing half-past ten. Right around this time of day, he thought. Well, at least it would be before Ron and Hermione arrived this afternoon. He was certain that this development would have immediately led to such an animated strategy discussion with the pair of them that they would have been certain to drown out the sounds from the mirror.

“Looks like you were able to warn me just in time, Neville,” Harry replied with his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Why don’t we continue this discussion from my bedroom so that I won’t miss the return call?” At Neville’s apprehensive look, Harry added, “You can sit nearest the door and slip out if you need to. I’ll face Snape on my own.” It will be preferable than facing him down at wand point, Harry added to himself.

Taking a moment to cast a precautionary muffliato spell in the direction of the stone sconce, Harry ushered Neville in the direction of his bureau. Sensing that Neville was still on the verge of panicking, Harry pulled out his desk chair and set it just outside the doorway.

“You sit here, Neville,” he suggested gently. “If I sit on the end of my bed, I can talk to you perfectly well through the doorway, but you will be totally out of the line of sight….Besides, I need you to keep a lookout for the sconce just in case the muffling spell prevents us from hearing someone arriving as well.”

The last part was a white lie, Harry admitted to himself. That was the beauty of the Prince’s genius: unlike the Imperturbable Charm, the muffliato spell blocked others from hearing you, but you could still hear others approaching. But, right now, Neville needed to feel that he was performing a valuable function.

Neville nodded with a weak attempt at a smile. “Harry, are you going to tell me about the prophecy after all?”

Harry smiled in return as he tucked his feet under himself to sit comfortably on his mattress. “Yes, I though I might at that.”

“But, Harry, why should you do this based on a suggestion from S-S-Snape, of all people? A second-hand suggestion, at that. We still don’t know whether or not he’s the enemy!”

“I’m not,” Harry explained. “It’s my decision alone and I think it’s something you should know. But, Neville, we’re talking about strictest confidence here. The only other people who know are Ron and Hermione. I’m warning you, though, you may not thank me when this is over.”

With a deep breath, Harry recited the words as Dumbledore had passed them on to him so many months ago. Then he watched the last bits of color drain from Neville’s face.

“That could just as easily refer to me!” Neville gasped, not daring to raise his voice beyond a whisper. ”Why didn’t Dumbledore see fit to tell me this himself?”

There was a hint of healthy outrage in that final statement, Harry noted with satisfaction. Neville definitely had a back-bone, regardless of his outward appearance.

“Dumbledore was convinced that my scar meant that Voldemort had, in effect, marked me. His opinion was that as of that one moment, the prophecy could no longer apply to anyone else.”

“But the torture of my parents was also at the direct order of You-Know-Who,” Neville reasoned. “And Harry, I don’t have to tell you that not all scars can be seen to the naked eye.”

“I’ve become convinced that your interpretation also has merit, Neville. That’s why I thought you should know about the words of the prophecy.”

“But that means that it may have to be me that vanquishes You-Know-Who,” Neville announced with sudden realization.

“That’s a distinct possibility,” Harry replied candidly.

“Oh, Harry, we are so lost!” bemoaned Neville. “I couldn’t even do a Patronus charm properly so that Professor Lupin could teach me how to attach a message to it last night!”

“I thought you’d mastered that when we were in Dumbledore’s Army,” Harry observed.

“I can produce the silver smoke reliably,” Neville admitted. “But I never seem to muster enough conviction to get the animal shape to form.”

“Well, the corporeal form is more difficult,” Harry replied thoughtfully. “But I’m the one at fault if you failed to master it completely. I was the one in charge of that lesson… Do you still remember the incantation: Expecto Patronum?”

Neville nodded eagerly.

“Then let me try to walk you through it while we have a bit of uninterrupted time,” offered Harry. “I had similar problems initially when Professor Lupin took me under his wing because I wasn’t using a strong enough memory.” He paused a moment to consider his best approach. “Please forgive me if I get too personal, Neville, but it’s the only way, unfortunately. Are you still seeing Daphne?”

“Yes,” Neville replied shyly. “We spent a very nice holiday together here at school.”

“Think back on the night of the Slytherin party, then,” Harry suggested. “Paint the memory in your mind: the vivid colors of the sunset that were visible through the windows, the sound of the laughter sprinkled through the crowd mingling with the sounds of music, the way that the girls’ white gowns floated in the air when they moved, the particular smell of leather and paper in that little private reading alcove just off the main room. Picture yourself in that room, be there.” From the glazed expression in his eyes, Harry could see that Neville was following along perfectly. “Now concentrate on the sensation of Daphne’s hand in yours, the joy that her touch made you feel.” Harry was more certain than ever that there was more to this memory, but he would have to let Neville add those details for himself. “Hold on to that memory as you do the incantation,” he finished softly.

As in a dream, Neville removed his wand from his pocket and intoned with great fervor, “Expecto Patronum!”

Almost immediately, a silvery form began to issue from Neville’s wand tip. Harry watched, mesmerized, as the delicate tendrils of smoke danced and swirled around each other in slow motion, finally settling on the shape of a bounding fox.

“Neville, open your eyes!” Harry cried softly. “You did it!”

“It’s a fox, Harry!” Neville replied joyously. “My Patronus is a fox!”

The demanding tone of the voice that issued from the slightly open drawer immediately drew Harry’s attention. With one last glance at Neville’s cherubic smile of triumph, Harry softly drew the door to his bedroom closed. In the background, he would still hear Neville continuing to practice in the common room.

Kneeling next to the bureau, Harry slowly pulled the bottom drawer to him so that he could focus more readily on the mirrored image before him. The dark eyes and hawk-like features of Severus Snape were staring back at him.

“Well, well, well, Potter,” he began. “Looks like Longbottom was able to untie his tongue long enough to give you my message. Another Christmas miracle.”

“It’s only by chance that you caught me today. I wasn’t originally scheduled to return until this afternoon,” Harry offered, resolving to avoid mirroring the man’s sarcasm.

“Falling short of our expectations is what the holidays do best,” Snape returned in a vague attempt at commiseration. Harry felt as if the man’s inky gaze was trying to bore into his soul, even though he was reasonably sure the Legilimency could not be performed with such a physical separation between them.

“Neville tells me that you’ve made previous attempts to contact me,” Harry prodded, anxious to get to the point.

“You should be more careful where you keep your accursed objects. They block the transmissions from rudimentary devices such as two-way mirrors.”

Accursed objects? That was the quaint manner in which one of Bill’s books had referred to Horcruxes, Harry thought to himself. Could Snape be referring to the locket from Grimmauld Place? He had turned that over to Hermione for safekeeping when Mrs. Weasley had commandeered the use of his truck at the Burrow. It was entirely possible that its previous presence in his room had been blocking mirror transmissions.

“Thanks for the advice, but how about explaining how Sirius’ mirror came to be in your possession?”

“Surely you weren’t naïve enough to think the man might have taken it with him!” Snape volleyed in return. “I retrieved the mirror from Grimmauld Place personally to keep it from falling into the hands of the Dark Lord himself. Or would you rather be facing him at the moment?”

“As you can see, I am without a social secretary at this time,” Harry shot back, already feeling his resolve slipping. “He would’ve had to make an appointment just like everyone else �“ in the few moments before Neville lost consciousness.”

To his surprise, Snape chuckled at this retort. “Seems like your attempts at sophomoric jokes have improved. Others have warned me that the werewolf has developed a rather wry sense of humor.”

“If you’re referring to Lupin, I suggest you call him by his name �“ or this interview is over!”

“I hardly think he needs you to defend his honor, but I will abide by your restrictions.”

“Get to the point,” Harry hissed, surprising himself with the venom that his voice injected.

“I have reason to believe that you made a rather ill-advised reconnaissance trip to the Black residence at Grimmauld Place over the summer--”

“And where would you have heard that?” Harry cut across him.

Snape’s disdainful expression intensified as he stepped back from the mirror and lifted up the battered remains of Ron’s Evil Eye Detector. “Did I not tell you I had been there myself?”

“How did you convince the house-elf to serve as your tour guide?”

“Do not assume!” Snape barked. “It was not me with the house-elf; that was Rodolphus Lestrange. In his dementia, the elf sees the Black sisters, Bellatrix and Narcissa, as his pureblood mistresses. They do not correct his mistake when it can serve them.”

All the convoluted charms that had been placed on the townhouse, all the magical locks that had been installed on the front door, and their efforts could still be circumvented by the inherent magic of a lowly house-elf. The illogical rules of magic could be so frustrating, Harry mused.

Aloud, he challenged Snape directly. “Considering that Sirius left the house and its contents to me, I would ask why you are trespassing on my property?”

“There is some debate over whether the title was ever Sirius’ to bequeath in the first place.”

“What about the house-elf? Dumbledore had me command him to work at Hogwarts’ kitchens and he was compelled to so do �“ despite his resistance.”

“The testimony of a decrepit house-elf would hardly hold up in a court of wizard law. As for Dumbledore’s deductive reasoning, when has logic ever held sway over the laws of mankind?”

Grudgingly, Harry conceded that perhaps Snape had made some valid points.

“Nobody’s interested in a crumbling townhouse, Potter, they’re interested in the contents. There has been a mad scramble for favor with the Dark Lord recently--”

“I’m sure your murderous ways have bested them all!”

“Think of me as his personal lap dog, if you will �“ that is a discussion for a different day,” Snape issued through clenched teeth. “I will warn you only once: if you insist on having my head on a butcher block, you will find that my corpse is not much of a conversationalist.”

Harry stared daggers at Snape’s image in the mirror, but held his tongue.

“As I was saying,” continued Snape in a haughty manner, “many of the pureblood families have been given certain artifacts by the Dark Lord for safekeeping as a mark of their favored status. Lucius Malfoy mishandled the diary that was given into his care, as you well know. It is rumored that an item was entrusted to the Black family as well, but no one is certain. That is what they seek at Grimmauld Place.”

Could it be the locket? Harry thought as the grip of fear tightened around his heart. No, nobody could know about the locket. As far as Voldemort was concerned, the locket was still in the middle of the lake. Dumbledore had said that Voldemort could not sense when the actual Horcruxes were disturbed, that they did not provide that sort of an active link.

Idly, he wondered whether the Death Eaters had found anything else of value among Kreacher’s treasure trove �“ or even if they had succeeded in finding any of the elf’s hiding places without additional assistance. After all, it had been sheer serendipity that had led Harry to find the wadded up handkerchief among the crumbled bricks in the pantry. Who knows what else the three of them could have found if they had been able to make a more systematic search of the premises?

“If I knew of such a thing, I would hardly tell you,” Harry retorted.

“I do not wish to take it from you, you fool, I wish to warn you. They are seeking a gilded cup, two-handled, rumored to have belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. And Potter, if you have any more accursed objects lying about, I recommend that you seek the assistance of a house-elf to remove them to a lead-lined box. Prolonged exposure to those items can have undesirable consequences for the likes of you and me, the elves are unaffected.” With a furtive look to his left, Snape hissed, “Someone approaches. Be here on Thursday morning at ten.”

In the blink of an eye, the mirror reverted to its familiar silvery surface.

Harry rose with shaky knees and allowed his body to collapse on the bed. He felt as if he had just run a mental marathon. He had no rational explanations for Snape’s actions or motives, but that was just business as usual. That Snape had knowledge of the Horcruxes was obvious, although he clearly hadn’t yet determined how much Dumbledore had revealed to Harry �“ and Harry intended to keep it that way.

In the end, Harry was left pondering why Dumbledore had trusted this man with so much �“ and why he hadn’t adequately explained his reasoning to anyone else. There was no denying that underneath the exterior, there was an extraordinary intellect. Was there true malice as well, or just an off-putting manner that had been honed to perfection?

With his heart still hammering, Harry entered the dates and times of the last two transmissions in his log, followed by the initials S.S. Then he locked the document into the bottom drawer of his desk with his other confidential items.