Inhalus
A/N: A couple of the details here were taken from the movie and not the books, and I’m aware that’s not considered to be strictly canon, but they don’t conflict with canon events and I like ‘em, so they’re staying.
Theresa felt a bit like a salmon heading upstream as she edged through the crowd of students bolting from the great hall toward the Quidditch pitch through the driving rain. Inside, Severus left off pacing and came to her with with his usual scowl. “You’re late.”
“Afraid you’d have to bail me out again tonight?” Theresa asked cheerfully, wringing water out of her braid.
“Of course not.” He opened an umbrella and, holding it over the both of them, ushered her back into the storm outside. “I’d have waited until morning.”
The old Quidditch pitch, hardly changed since her own school days, brought back fond memories of games long gone, of James Potter and Sirius Black showing off on their brooms, and of sneaking under the stands with her boyfriends. But her most compelling reason to come walked onto the pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor team a few moments after she sat down next to Severus. Barely visible in the driving rain, Harry Potter kicked off from the ground when the whistle blew and glanced apprehensively at the unrelenting sky.
It was a wild game. Besides blinding the players and blowing quaffles and bludgers off-course, the storm made the team's broomsticks slippery, so that one of the Chasers came out of a spin and whirled an extra time around her broom after it had stopped. Undeterred, the crowd roared and screamed as the players swooped around the pitch. Caught up in the enthusiasm when Harry made a particularly stunning dive, Theresa sprang to her feet and shouted “Go, Harry!” before she remembered she was sitting in the Slytherin stands. “Sorry,” she muttered to Severus, bowing her head to avoid the dirty looks from all sides.
“Don’t expect me to defend you if you get mobbed,” he sneered.
She grinned at him, her eyes drawn immediately back to Harry’s scarlet robes as he streaked back down the pitch.
Suddenly, a chill blast of air washed over her. The crowd seemed to have gotten quieter. Someone in the stands below them screamed. “Dementors!” Severus hissed, standing up.
Theresa came to her feet too. The ground thirty feet below them was filled with Dementors, hundreds of them. “Dumbledore will be furious,” Severus said.
“Oh, no! Look up there!” someone shouted. Theresa jerked her head up and gasped in horror. A hundred feet in the air, a scarlet shape plummeted toward the ground. Theresa didn't have to read the number on his back to know who it was.
Without thinking, she fought her way to the aisle and ran to the bottom row, clasping the soggy railing. There was nothing she could do ” he wouldn't be in range of her wand until it was too late. Then Dumbledore’s voice rang out from the other side of the pitch. “Arresto Momentum!” Harry’s body slowed abruptly before slamming into the ground. Theresa threw her legs over the guardrail in front of her. She heard Severus cry her name just before she jumped.
She didn’t blame him for being startled; slowing one’s own fall was difficult magic, but Theresa had gotten plenty of practice during six months chasing Yeti around the Himalayas. Even so, she landed a bit hard on one foot and stumbled, but quickly righted herself and ran toward the crowd of Dementors now circling around Harry’s still form. She summoned her Patronus at a dead run; the huge white lionness loped ahead of her and cleared a path. She could hear Dumbledore shouting. She reached Harry and flung herself to her knees over him.
He looked so small, lying there with his robes spread around him. He wasn’t breathing. Theresa tapped his chest with her wand. “Inhalus!” He drew in a deep breath, held it for an interminable instant, then came to in a fit of coughing. Theresa slid an arm under his shoulders, shielding his face from the pounding rain with her cloak, but he sank back again, unconscious. Theresa whirled her cloak off, put a Warming Charm on it, and wrapped him in it.
Running feet approached her. “What on earth do you think you’re doing??” It was Minerva.
“He’s breathing now,” Theresa said. “I think he’ll be all right.”
“Get away from him!” She pointed her wand at Theresa’s face. “You have no right!”
“He wasn’t breathing!” Theresa shouted. “Should I let him die because I don’t have your permission to help him?!”
“Ladies, you will kindly allow me to remove Harry to the hospital wing before you start hexing each other,” Dumbledore said brusquely, stepping between them to kneel over Harry.
Guiltily, Theresa realized she was pointing her wand at Minerva. She lowered it and turned to Harry. “He wasn’t breathing, Professor, but I gave him a little Inhalus Charm, and he started right up again.”
“Hopefully he just had his breath knocked out of him.” Dumbledore conjured a stretcher and lifted Harry onto it. He levitated it to waist height. Minerva started to remove Theresa’s cloak.
“Leave it,” Dumbledore said, a little sharply. Startled, Minerva put it back the way it was. “Theresa, will you please find his glasses and then join us in the hospital wing?” Dumbledore said.
“Yes, of course.” She glanced around, spied his glasses and Summoned them to her. Then she dashed after Dumbledore and Minerva.
* * *
Theresa remained in the hospital wing with Harry for nearly an hour. Slowly, his friends and teammates assembled, until his bed was surrounded by dripping, mud-spattered teenagers, who stood around him whispering and casting furtive glances at her.
Meanwhile, muffled inside Madame Pomfrey’s office, Minerva was shouting at Dumbledore. Theresa could only make out bits of it, but it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. It wasn’t exactly how Theresa had pictured their first meeting in fourteen years.
“... and poor Harry helpless ...could have done who knows what!”
“She’s McGonagall’s sister? Really?” one of the Quidditch players hissed. “I didn’t know she had a sister.”
“... Keeping the Dementors out, then letting a Death Eater waltz in here ...!”
“If you had a sister like that,” another student answered, “would you talk about her?”
“... Need I remind you that she was a murderer before she ever got involved with Black!”
“Why did Dumbledore let her stay? If Professor McGonagall doesn’t even want her around, you’d think ”.”
“Children,” Theresa said irritably, “if you’re going to gossip about me while I’m in the same room, I must insist you do so more quietly.”
They flinched, as though expecting her to hex them, and fell silent. The nurse’s office fell silent too; perhaps Minerva had realized she could hear her. After a pause, Theresa heard Dumbledore speak quietly. She hoped he was telling Minerva off.
Just then, Harry's eyes opened and he sat up suddenly. “What happened?”
There was a clamor of voices as his friends tried to explain it all at once. Theresa sighed, smiling wanly. She heard a footstep beside her and turned to see Severus approaching from down the ward, looking sulky.
“I take it Potter has survived?” he said.
“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder at the assembled kids. Despite Harry's disappointment at learning that Gryffindor had lost the Quidditch match, his voice sounded like music to Theresa.
“Then I expect you'll still want to have dinner with me?” Severus asked.
“Yes.” She pushed herself upright. “Yes, I do.” She smiled at him. “It'd take more than a personal tragedy to dissuade me from your cooking.”
Looking mollified, he started to lead her toward the door. Theresa cast a last glance over her shoulder at Harry, thinking that he probably didn't want anything to do with her anyway, but to her surprise, he peered around someone's waist and said, “Theresa? are you leaving?”
Leaving Severus with a disapproving frown on his face, she went to Harry's bedside. “I'm not going far, Harry. I'll come back and see you when you aren't so swamped.”
He looked unconvinced. “I didn't know you were going to be here.”
“I just came to watch you play Quidditch. You have all your friends here now. I'll come back when we can chat. I promise.”
Harry sighed. “All right, then.”
Theresa squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re all right. I’ll come back tomorrow sometime.”
“Yes, please,” he said, looking past her to return Severus' scowl. Theresa gave Harry an amused smile and allowed Severus to lead her out of the hospital wing.
* * *
The rain stopped, mercifully, before the lake overflowed and the merpeople invaded Hogwarts, and the morning after the Quidditch match dawned clear and chilly. Around noon, Theresa entered the Forbidden Forest to take the shortcut between the Muggle village where she was staying and Hogwarts.
She had nearly given up searching for Sirius in the forest, but nevertheless she pointed her wand at the path ahead of her and said, “Indago.” A thin blue light shot out of her wand, illuminating the jumble of footprints in the dust of the game trail ahead of her. She prowled forward, halfheartedly scanning the tracks while also keeping an eye out for danger. Wrapped in her Chameleon Cloak, she knew she’d be hard to see, and for added protection she cast a Look-the-Other-Way spell, a handy little charm that didn’t make you invisible, per se, but encouraged people “ and beasts “ to fail to notice you.
As much as she wanted to see Harry again, she couldn’t muster much speed along the forest trail. She was not looking forward to explaining the awful things he’d undoubtedly been told about her. Though he had seemed to be anxious to see her again; that was definitely a good sign. She hoped Minerva hadn’t noticed that; she didn’t fancy the idea of a glowering chaperone.
Abruptly, Theresa stopped. She ran her wand across the trail ahead of her again. There, shining blue under the leaf litter, were huge paw marks. She looked up the path, her heart suddenly pounding. No, it couldn’t be. It was a werewolf; there had been a full moon last night. She knelt to examine the tracks. It wasn’t a werewolf, werewolves were bigger than that. She focused her tracking spell, now that she had an actual trail to follow, and shined her wand up the path. Faint blue paw prints appeared, fading into the distance. She scrambled to her feet and hurried after them, afraid they’d vanish if she delayed.
An hour later, she was staring at the muddy bank of a stream that had been nothing more than a deep rill before the rain started. The mud here had been churned up by dozens of animals that had paused here for a sip of water. Despite the mess, however, one single footprint stood out to her: a man’s footprint. She heaved a disbelieving laugh. He had paused here to bathe and needed fingers to wash himself with. The paw prints returned to the path and continued on their way. She followed them.
After some time, the tracks left the trail and became harder to follow. They were approaching Hogwarts, but on the other side of the lake from Hagrid’s hut and the Hippogriff pen. She had been to this part of the forest before, and never found anything. This part of the forest was relatively uninhabited; the Centaurs lived nearby and kept most of the dangerous stuff out.
She was so intent on following the trail that she didn’t notice when her Look-the-Other-Way spell wore off, or even when the sun began to set. She prowled forward, head down, watching the tracks grow fresher and more distinct, until finally, a movement ahead brought her to a halt.
She lit her wand and raised it above her head. She could hear something breathing in the shadows ahead of her. Something big. She took a step forward. “Sirius?”
Her eyes had just found the outlines of a huge black dog when it turned and bolted. Theresa ran after him, calling, “Wait! Sirius! It’s me!”
She chased him through scrub and bushes, over rocks, through dense thickets. He was trying to lose her, but she had been searching for him for too long to give up now. They were approaching the edge of the forest. He must have gotten lost; they were almost on the school grounds now.
He disappeared behind the biggest yew tree Theresa had ever seen. When she came around it after him, he exploded out of the darkness at her, his paws landing on her chest and throwing her to the ground. Instinctively, she punched the beast in the neck. He yelped and sprang off her. She rolled to her feet, but she’d dropped her wand into the leaf litter of the darkening forest. “Accio!”
It jumped into the air and hurtled toward her, but the dog leapt up and caught it between his teeth. “No!” Theresa twisted and kicked the dog in the mouth. Sirius dropped the wand, but stepped between it and Theresa. He snarled at her, ears back, crouching as if to spring.
Despite what he might assume, Theresa wasn’t helpless without her wand. She dropped into a ready position, fists clenched at waist level, elbows tucked in, weight balanced on the balls of her feet. He hesitated, perhaps puzzled by this change in her.
“Sirius…,” she began, but the dog sprang. She dodged sideways. “Accio wand!” Sirius landed, pivoted, and sprang again … Theresa whirled and pointed her wand at him, but his jaws closed on her wrist with a sickening crunch. She shrieked and tried to shake him off, but he held firm. She managed an Impediment Jinx. He was thrown backwards, but the wand tumbled from her slackening fingers.
Theresa staggered back, clutching her mangled arm to her stomach. Sirius turned to face her. Their eyes met. They both glanced down at the wand lying between them. As one, they hurled themselves at it. Sirius transformed in midair. Cold, gray, clawlike hands scrabbled over her own. They both clasped the wand at the same time.
A spell hit her in the chest like the kick of a horse, toppling her backwards. Sirius plunged into her field of view, the wand aimed between her eyes. She cringed, raising her arms over her face. “I’m not going back to Azkaban alive, do you understand me?” he bellowed. “Get up! Get up!” He jerked her broken arm, trying to raise her to her feet. She cried out in pain. The night constricted around her. She fainted.
When she came to with the bloody tang of magic in her mouth, he was hauling her to her feet. He pulled her good arm across his shoulders and half-carried, half-dragged her through the forest, growling under his breath. “Stupid woman … serve you right if I left you there … what the hell is the matter with you, anyway? Don’t you read the papers? ‘Sirius Black is a highly dangerous madman … only highly trained hit wizards from the Ministry of Magic stand a chance’ … now I’ll have to find a new place to live … mind the tree root there … you’re not an Auror, are you?” He stopped abruptly and shined a light from her wand in her face.
She squinted at him, blinking. “You “ you don’t know me?”
“Why should I know you? You a celebrity, or something? We don’t get the wireless in Azkaban.” He resumed dragging her through the woods. Branches clawed at her clothing, but she was too stunned by his response to care.
“Didn’t mean to hurt you,” he muttered, “Padfoot gets the better of me sometimes, comes from being a dog too long. But honestly ” chasing me through the woods like that ” how did you know it was me, anyway?”
“I’d know you anywhere … but you wouldn’t hurt me … you couldn’t …”
“Could, and did.” The trees were growing thinner. Hogwarts’ towers loomed in the distance. “Know me anywhere? You do look a little familiar. Are you an old girlfriend, maybe?”
“You could say that,” she said faintly.
They came to the edge of the Forest. Sirius looked around furtively. “I’d best not go any further.” He set her on her feet and turned her to face him. “Don’t come looking for me again. I won’t pull my punches next time.” He turned her back towards Hogwarts and shoved her out of the trees. She stumbled for a few steps and collapsed to the ground.
“Hang on,” he said. She sat on the grass and looked up at him, blinking tears out of her eyes. He hurried over to her and yanked the Chameleon Cloak from her shoulders. She cried out as the movement jarred her injured arm. “Sorry, love, but I need it more than you do.” He turned to go, wrapping the cloak around him and sniffing it experimentally.
She watched him disappear into the woods. Then she turned and began to drag herself, painfully, across the grass.