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Ensuring Pronglet Survives: Chapter 3
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Severus darted a look toward Black as they made their way through the
corridors of Hogwarts towards the Slytherin dungeons.

He didn’t want to admit it but Black had been masterful in his negotiations
with the Headmaster. Black had gotten a suite of rooms designated for himself
and Potter within the walls of Hogwarts as a competing group within the
tournament. Black had conceded that Lupin would stay in the Black residence in
Hogsmeade rather than at Hogwarts but it was hardly a large concession. Albus
had also been inveigled into allowing Black’s own house elves to see to their
needs rather than imposing on Hogwarts’ elves thus ensuring their privacy and
security.

The deal had Potter taking breakfast and dinner usually with Black but lunch
with the school. Quidditch practice was allowed although Potter would no
longer play on the Gryffindor team as he would ostensibly not be a Hogwarts’
student, and was banned because of the tournament anyway. Black had wrangled
for Potter’s friends and allies to be allowed to occasionally dine with in the
suite of rooms with prior notification to their relevant Hogwarts’ House Head.

The individualised lesson plan for Potter had also been successfully
negotiated; Potter’s new schedule had him taking private tuition from Moody,
Minerva and Filius three evenings a week with the curriculum to be agreed.
Potter would attend the rest of the fourth year lessons and his fifth year
Runes elective as previously scheduled. It left a good swathe of time free for
Potter to prepare for the tournament.

Black would also be notified and have input into the security plans for the
tournament events. That had been a tricky discussion because it was clear that
some of the plans might give away what the tasks would be. But Black had
agreed that he would abide by Moody’s word on what he could and couldn’t know.
As Moody had trained Black, Severus guessed at an established trust and a past
of accepting Moody’s decisions.

But in essence, Black had gotten everything he wanted.

Masterful.

And Slytherin.

His request for Severus to accompany him so he could deliver a letter from
Potter to Draco also hinted at a Slytherin agenda; Severus wasn’t unaware of
how it would look to the students if the Slytherin Head of House, a known
double spy, was seen accompanying Lord Black. Nor had it escaped Severus’s
notice that the act of visiting Draco would increase the young Malfoy’s
political standing with his pureblood peers.

It had been so easy to forget in the haze of memory that the Gryffindor
nemesis who had so tormented Severus at school had been raised to be the
quintessential Slytherin just as Severus himself had. The similarity of their
upbringing jarred because the only difference was that Black had rebelled and
fallen in with Potter…

Had it ever occurred to Severus to rebel and follow after Lily?

Severus considered the question as he silently led Sirius to the portrait
guarding the Slytherin Common Room.

He had once or twice before Hogwarts considered that Lily would not end up in
Slytherin herself — she was too open in her reactions, too fearless in her
defence of what was important to her — but he had never considered following
her so much as trying to convince her of the virtues of Slytherin despite his
knowing she wouldn’t be Slytherin. Perhaps, Severus mused wistfully, if she
had gone to Ravenclaw… maybe then he would have argued with the confounded Hat
and attempted his own rebellion. But she hadn’t gone to Ravenclaw and, at
eleven, Severus would have given up his wand arm rather than willingly enter
Gryffindor.

Would Lily still be alive he had made that choice? He would never know.

The Common Room fell into silence as Severus entered with Black beside him. He
noted how Black’s gaze swept the room almost contemptuously before settling on
Draco who was attempting to swiftly erase surprise from his young pointed
features.

Draco stood and walked over hurriedly, a small bow of his head giving
deference to Sirius as the Head of the House of Black. “Cousin.”

“Cousin.” Black replied with the same neutral tone. ‘Your mother and father
send their greetings.’ He reached into his robe and pulled out a letter.
“Harry gave me this to give to you.”

And with a few simple statements, Black had put the Common Room on notice that
he acknowledged Draco’s place in his family line; that the Malfoys were part
of Black’s circle and knew of his movements; that Draco and Harry were
building their own relationship and Black approved.

Severus glanced carefully around the room, noting the various reactions and
what they told him about each student and their family affiliations.

“Professor Snape,” Black recaptured Severus’s attention, “is there somewhere
more private where I can brief Draco and the other Slytherins allied to the
Houses of Potter and Black?”

Immediately, the small group gathered; Nott, Zabini, Greengrass and Marsha
Rickett, a first year.

“Of course,” Severus’s dark eyes flickered back over the Common Room, “if you
and the students would follow me to my quarters, Lord Black?”

And there was his own declaration of support, Severus thought with
satisfaction as some of the students paled at the implications of Severus
falling in with the House of Black. The advantage of a spy was always to know
which side was actually winning. He wasn’t too worried about his defection
getting back to the Dark Lord; he could claim he was cultivating a
relationship to use in his spying for the Dark Lord if he was ever questioned
about the matter. He didn’t expect to be; the Dark Lord had surrounded himself
with a few trusted followers and Severus rather doubted he was trusted enough
to be brought into that fold before the Dark Lord regained his full strength.

They trooped out of the Common Room and down a set of corridors to Severus’s
quarters. He showed them into the living area. Most of the group squashed
themselves into the large sofa but Draco and Nott remained standing — it
looked more dignified, Severus thought with approval.

“Harry is fine,” Black began, ‘he’ll be returning to Hogwarts before the
Weighing of the Wands ceremony and will continue to take schooling from
professors here but he will not ostensibly be a Hogwarts’ student.’ He clasped
his hands behind his back. “The Houses of Potter and Black are taking a suite
of rooms here. Harry will reside with me there outside of the school day.”

Severus noted the satisfied look on Nott’s face; he’d evidently guessed at
that particular scenario.

“Draco,” Black said, drawing the attention of his cousin, “as a member of the
House of Black, you are invited to join us. However, I believe there is
benefit to the House of Black if you remain within Slytherin.”

“I agree.” Draco said hastily.

Black nodded before turning to Nott. “The same offer applies to you, Theo, as
a member of the House of Potter.”

Nott inclined his dark head. “Thank you, Lord Black, but I believe my
remaining within Slytherin will be of greater service to the House of Potter.”

Black nodded again, apparently unsurprised at the reply. He gestured towards
the others. “Harry sends his regards to you all and his thanks for your
support on the night of the Champions’ draw.” He regarded them all seriously.
‘I will add my thanks to his. To stand up and ally yourself with Harry at this
time shows great fortitude and loyalty.’ He met each of their eyes for a brief
moment, connecting with them individually. “It will not be forgotten.”

“May I ask what the strategy will be for the tournament?” Nott asked politely.

Black smirked. “Harry has decided he wants to win it.”

The Slytherins exchanged satisfied glances.

“You should know that such a strategy is likely to irritate his enemies.”
Black told them bluntly. “Things may become difficult for you in Slytherin so
you should keep in mind that should you need it, you all have the protection
of my House and the House of Potter.”

Severus cleared his throat. “You may also come to me with any difficulties
that you may encounter.”

He found himself the focus of their attention and stiffened uncomfortably
under Black’s assessing gaze.

“You may trust Professor Snape in this,” Black stated calmly, his eyes never
leaving Severus’s, “as I trust him with your safety. He will provide you with
protection if I am not immediately available.”

It took every ounce of Slytherin guile Severus had not to react to Black’s
fulsome support. The young Slytherins nodded and Severus knew that his
endorsement by Black would be relayed to their parents in short order.

“That’s all for the time being.” Black ended the meeting briskly. “I’ll send
word when Harry and I will be moving into Hogwarts through Draco.”

There was a flurry of goodbyes and in short order Severus found himself alone
with Black.

“Don’t expect me to thank you for the character reference.” Severus sneered,
trying to cover his chagrin.

Black raised an eyebrow. “Perish the thought. If you did, I’d have to thank
you for giving the Aurors the tip about Rabastan’s and Junior’s seaside
cottage plans.”

Severus hummed at that. “I should have gone straight to the healer as soon as
I recognised the memories could reveal the identity of the person threatening
Potter.” He said stiffly. “My information may be too little too late.”

“Let’s hope not.” Black said bluntly. He gestured at the door. “I should get
over to Gryffindor and deliver the rest of Harry’s letters.”

“I trust you know the way there.” Severus replied dryly.

Black’s lips quirked upwards in something that might have been a brief smile
and he made for the door.

Severus watched him leave and wondered at the civil exchange.

Something had shifted between them, he realised. He turned it over in his
head. Perhaps their new détente was because the night of Halloween had been
the first time Severus had offered his help because he had wanted to protect
Potter, not because of a promise made under duress and in guilty haste to
Albus Dumbledore, but because for the first time Severus accepted that Harry
Potter was as much Lily’s as he was James Potter’s son, and nothing was more
important to her spirit than protecting her son. Perhaps because Black had
accepted Severus’s help because clearly Black would do anything to protect the
boy entrusted by James and Lily to his care, and Severus had seen that they
were right to impart that trust to Black — the memory of Black tending to
Potter surfaced briefly.

Or, Severus thought with sombre regret, perhaps their détente existed because
Severus had finally faced the truth of his own culpability for Lily’s death
instead of simply blaming her child.

Whatever the reason, Severus was glad of it. He doubted Black and he would
ever be friends but it eased something to know that he would be part of the
Dark Lord’s defeat, and that he would be allowed to in some small way perhaps
find redemption.

Redemption; to finally apologise to Lily for choosing to go to Slytherin
rather than follow her; for choosing the Dark Lord and his lies over her
friendship; for telling the Dark Lord of the prophecy which led to her death;
for projecting his own guilt, self-hatred and blame onto her son, the child
she had died protecting.

“I am attempting to do better, Lily.” Severus whispered into the stillness of
the room.

A faint scent filled the air and had him whirling around in shock.

Lilies. He could smell…

His heart beat loudly as he breathed in the faint scent until he couldn’t
sense it anymore, half-convinced it was his imagination… half-enthralled that
it was real. It was real and he was not forgotten… he had finally earned her
approval.

Severus sat down abruptly. He placed a hand over his stampeding heart. He
closed his eyes against the storm of emotion that rolled through him. “I won’t
let you down again, my friend.” He promised quietly. He would protect her son
in her stead and he would do it with a willing heart.

o-O-o

*5**th* *November 1994*

“*Dear Hermione,*

*Thank you for the letters and the training plan. It looks great. Everyone
agrees that I need more spell knowledge. We should talk it through as Remus
gave me a plan too (Sirius says he’s the Marauders’ version of you) so it
would be good to look at both and come up with a joint one. I want to win the
tournament if I can, or at least give it my best effort.*

*I’m feeling much better but I still get tired quickly. Doctor Jordan thinks I
used up a lot of magical energy because I resisted the binding for so long.
She’s said that I can get up and do small things though so I can get started
on all the homework Professor McGonagall brought me.*

*I am coming back to Hogwarts. Well, Sirius is talking about it with the
Headmaster and hopefully I’ll be back soon.*

*I hope you, Ron and Neville are OK. From all your letters, it sounds like the
last week has been weird at Hogwarts. Can you make sure Cedric knows I think
it’s brilliant he’s the Hogwarts’ Champion? The press has been saying some
absolute rubbish.*

*Ron told me he told you what I wanted to ask you, and he told me what you
said which made my day. But I kind of had a whole plan to do it properly and
I’d like to see it through if that’s OK with you? I hope it is.*

*See you soon (hopefully)!*

*Love, Harry.”*

Sat cross-legged on her bed with the early morning sun just beginning to
brighten the room, Hermione reread the letter again and carefully folded it up
before tucking it between the pages of her book on meditation. Her heart was
almost giddy from the final paragraph. He wanted to ask her out properly.
Which meant it was real. He *liked* her. She sighed happily.

It was almost enough to make her forget the rest; Harry’s magical exhaustion,
the imminent tournament that he had to compete in where his life would be in
danger. But the delight of knowing Harry was going to ask her out when he
returned to Hogwarts was offset by the very real worry that gnawed at her
belly.

Her teeth sank into her lip as she anxiously considered everything she had
read about the tournament and its tasks. She knew that Voldemort had changed
the planned less dangerous tasks to be more dangerous from what they had been
told by Sirius, but the basic structure of the tournament had been left intact
along with elements of the original tasks.

So, the first task traditionally involved magical creatures somehow. In some
ways that was a good thing because Harry was brilliant with magical creatures.
He seemed to have some kind of affinity with them. But she doubted that the
task would be as easy as getting a ride on a hippogriff — which had been one
of the tasks in an early tournament. There had been several tasks associated
with getting past a Sphinx to treasure which would give a clue to the next
task. There had been one task involving a unicorn, one involving dragons, and
several involving handling dangerous magical snakes. Of all the magical
creatures Voldemort could use, Hermione figured snakes were the most obvious
but, perhaps because it was obvious, it wouldn’t be magical snakes.

She touched the edge of her letter again and wondered what Harry thought. Did
he know the first task would be magical creatures? She couldn’t wait until he
got back to Hogwarts and she could talk to him.

“A letter from Harry?” Lavender’s teasing voice broke into Hermione’s
contemplation. Somehow her dorm mate had woken and wandered over to Hermione’s
bed without Hermione noticing.

She felt the blush rise on her cheeks but she nodded. “Sirius brought it last
night when he came to talk with us.”

“It’s great news that Harry’s coming back.” Lavender said, plopping down onto
the bed next to Hermione.

Ron had announced it as soon as the portrait to the Common Room had swung
closed. The cheer had nearly taken the roof off. Everyone was a little
disappointed though when they had explained Harry wouldn’t be back in the
dorms, but living with his guardian in his own suite of rooms since he
wouldn’t be a Hogwarts student officially any longer for their fourth year
because of the tournament. Hermione had been invited to live with them as a
sponsored daughter of the House of Black and she had declined. She believed
Sirius had requested the rooms to give Harry somewhere away from other
students, somewhere Sirius and Harry could spend time together, and she
wouldn’t intrude on that. Plus, if she and Harry did start to date, it would
create a lot of gossip if they lived in the same set of rooms.

Besides, she was content with living in the dorms. The past week had seen her,
Lavender and Parvati spend more time together and Hermione had surprisingly
enjoyed it. The other girls still gossiped more than Hermione was comfortable
with and maybe she was still too serious about studying for them on occasion,
but they were more tolerant of the differences. Maybe they were all growing
up, Hermione mused.

“You’re up early.” Lavender commented, yawning.

Hermione nodded and checked her watch. “There’s an alliance meeting before
breakfast. We’re using Robert and Natalie’s office.” She gazed at Lavender
thoughtfully. “Do you and Parvati want to come along?”

“We’re not in the alliance.” Lavender said, her eyes wide.

Hermione shrugged. “Luna’s coming because she’s Harry’s friend even if her
family isn’t in the alliance. So are the Weasleys. You’re friends too. You’d
be welcome.”

Lavender smiled prettily and reached out to take hold of one of Hermione’s
hands. “Thank you.” She glanced over at Parvati’s bed and sighed. ‘I think I’m
going to have to say no though since Parvati will kill me if I wake her up now
and she’d kill me if I went without her.’ She turned back to Hermione. “You’ll
tell me though later?”

“I will.” Hermione promised. She put the book in her bag and slid off the bed,
making her way down the stairs to the Common Room where she’d promised to meet
Ron and Neville.

She had to wait for them but it gave her another chance to read her letter.
She made sure though it was all tucked away again when the boys arrived. She
wondered at what had been in their letters from Harry as she took in the sight
of them.

Neville was first down the stairs, his stride determined, his chin up.
Hermione had known in an abstract way that Neville had grown in confidence
during the Summer, that he’d shed some of the awkwardness that had
characterised him in the previous three years she’d known him; that much had
been evident in his improved magic, his easy friendship with Blaise, and his
practice dating with Hannah. But it hadn’t been until the past week that
Hermione believed she’d glimpsed the man Neville was becoming; authoritative,
one used to leading, politically astute in a way Hermione could admit she
wasn’t. He had set the tone for the Potter alliance in Hogwarts; absolute and
unconditional support for Harry, but respectful appreciation for the other
Champions.

Ron was close on Neville’s heels. He also walked with purpose, his freckled
face set into stern lines instead of its usual friendly affability. And just
as she had with Neville, Hermione glimpsed the man Ron was maturing into with
the events of the past week; a true and considerate friend. He had been
supportive of her, making sure she was OK — partly as he himself had joked
because Harry would go spare if Ron didn’t, but there had been genuine caring
in his attentiveness to Hermione’s state of mind. He had also supported
Neville, providing in Harry’s absence the encouragement Neville needed to
embrace his leadership role. And Hermione believed that the ease in which Ron
accepted Neville would lead, that it wouldn’t be Ron, was also a sign of how
much Ron had matured.

She stood up to join them and wondered whether they saw her differently too;
whether they had noticed her quieter confidence about her intelligence instead
of her previous brash displays of smarts, and how she accepted their position
when they explained that something she thought was a good idea wasn’t because
of the cultural differences between the muggle and the wizarding world. She
wondered if they saw the woman she hoped she was becoming; a confident smart
woman who was at ease in both worlds — an attractive woman who could capture
the attention of someone like Harry.

They fell into step as they left the Common Room.

Ron nudged her. “Good letter?”

Hermione smiled and nodded. “You?”

Ron nodded back. “Yeah, it was good to hear from him.”

“You can say that again,” commented Neville, “it was really good to hear from
him.” There was a note of relief in Neville’s voice and Hermione guessed that
Harry had confirmed Neville had taken the right tone in respect to the
tournament.

The Head Boy and Head Girl’s office wasn’t that spacious and it was a bit of a
squash as they made their way into the room.

Hermione was surprised that so many of the Potter alliance students had beaten
them to the office given the early start, but then there had been a lot of
owls at dinner the night before, and she suspected some of them had received
directions from their parents.

Susan and Hannah waved the Gryffindor trio to the front of the fireplace where
they would take centre stage. Hermione nodded briskly at Draco sitting in a
corner with Zabini and Greengrass. Nott was over by Jeremy Branstone and
Michael Corner, their heads bent together as they discussed something in quiet
tones.

Neville cleared his throat and the room grew silent. “Robert, if you could…”
he waved a finger in a circle.

The Head Boy immediately got the message and erected a privacy bubble.

“Right, first things first: Harry sends his thanks and gratitude for our
support. He says it’s helped him enormously to know that he has us standing
with him.” Neville began.

Hermione noted the pleased faces and silently commended both Harry and Neville
for their opening gambit. It had made everyone feel important and valued.

“Some of you may have already heard from your parents that Harry’s decided to
take the bull by the horns and throw himself fully into the challenge of the
tournament.” Neville looked around the room with quiet authority. “He believes
that it is the best way of fighting back against Voldemort’s intent to
terrorise him. It’ll send a strong message that Harry won’t just cave in the
face of Voldemort’s evil; that he’ll continue to stand up against him.”

“He can’t expect to win it though, can he?” asked Michael sceptically.

“I think he can.” Lydia spoke up.

Hermione tried not to grimace at the younger girl, and an abashed and subdued
Ginny stood beside her.

“So do I.” Connor Sapworthy glared at Michael. “Harry’s powerful and he’s
smart.”

Michael held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just saying he’s
going up against the likes of Krum and Diggory, and presumably the French bird
has some skills since she was chosen.”

Natalie Warren cleared her throat. “Michael has a point.”

“Harry was chosen by the Goblet.” Luna stated dreamily. “He was considered
worthy or the Goblet would have declared no-one was to stand for the Light.”

“So the Goblet thinks he has a chance to win it?” asked Heather Belby, a sixth
year Ravenclaw. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Harry can win.” Ron declared firmly. “Have any of the others gone up against
a basilisk or a Dark Lord and lived to tell of it? I don’t think so.”

“On that basis, I wouldn’t bet against him.” Blaise commented dryly.

There was a smattering of laughter.

“Ron’s right,” Hermione said, jumping in, “Harry’s very good at these types of
situations, and he’s had more practical experience than the others. Their main
advantage is going to be spell knowledge.”

“Which he can gain in training.” Neville added. “And where we can help — or at
least the upper years.”

“That’s true.” Robert said thoughtfully. “We can help tutor him or be duelling
partners for him when he tests out some of the advanced spells.”

“Agreed,” Natalie said with a sharp nod, “my father suggested as much in the
letter he sent.”

“Which brings up a good point; we need to coordinate with the adults.” Robert
said firmly. “Presumably Lord Black already has a training plan worked out?”

“Harry indicated as much in his letter.” Hermione admitted.

Theo gestured. “According to the tournament lore, Potter *has* to be the one
to determine his training and who he accepts advice from though. He may give
more weight to Lord Black’s advice but I don’t think he’ll ignore anything we
come up with.”

“Well, that makes sense since Harry also said he would look over everything
and come up with a joint plan.” Hermione said.

“So if we come up with a different view from our parents and guardians, it’s
good to know Potter won’t just disregard it.” Daphne commented.

“My Dad mentioned that we’ll probably get some of their research funnelled
through us.” Susan said.

“And research is probably where those without the spell knowledge to help
Harry with his training can help out instead.” Neville confirmed. “It would be
good to have a research group form up that can coordinate with the adults’
information as they send it through.”

“Granger should head that up.” Theo said. “I’m betting you’ve done a ton of
research already and Potter’s used to you taking that role.”

Hermione felt her cheeks heat as she nodded. “I’ll be happy to head up the
research group.”

“Those of you wanting to assist should give your names to Hermione after
then.” Neville said. “The rest of us should make ourselves available as
sounding boards and…”

“He’ll need cheerleaders.” Lydia interrupted, flicking her long hair back and
staring at the group defiantly.

“She’s not altogether wrong.” Jeremy said as the others looked at her with
irritation. “Harry’s going to incur a lot of publicity — some good and some
bad. My Dad’s going to help out with the media stuff outside school, but at
the very least he needs a cheering section during the tasks and maybe some
visible sign of support around the school.”

“How about badges declaring support for Harry as the best Champion?” suggested
Draco.

“Maybe something a bit more subtle.” Jeremy said with a frown. “We don’t want
to alienate those supporting Diggory by being too boorish.”

“A thread bracelet with red and gold beads worn as a bracelet might suffice.”
Hannah offered. “We could also make up combined ones with yellow and black for
those who want to show support for both because of House loyalties like me and
Susan.”

“That sounds great,” Neville said with a smile for his practice girlfriend,
“and Harry is keen to make it known that he’s pleased Cedric was chosen for
Hogwarts, and that he’s got no issue with us supporting him too.”

Zacharias Smith snorted. “He may not have an issue with Diggory but there’s a
question mark over whether Diggory has a beef with him. The most fervent of
Diggory’s supporters are saying a lot of stupid stuff in Hufflepuff, although
some of them are just repeating what Diggory’s father is quoted as saying in
the press about Harry being an attention seeker and crazy.”

Susan nodded. “Some of the comments are getting vicious and Diggory isn’t
exactly denying them.”

“So, two issues,” Neville said sombrely, “first, one of us has to talk to
Cedric.”

“I’ll take that one.” Robert said. “As Hogwarts’ Champion he’s in a similar
position to the Head Boy and Girl; he’s representing all of us, and allowing
his supporters to bad mouth Harry isn’t acceptable.”

Neville nodded. “Good. I guess the second issue is that possibly some of us
need to be actively defusing rumours and hearsay within each of our Houses on
a daily basis.”

Draco gestured at him. “We’re already doing that in Slytherin but someone
needs to be doing that for the other Houses.”

Ron sighed. “Gryffindor is pretty much pro-Harry but we still have to deal
with misinformation and setting the record straight.”

“So I can maybe take up that role in Ravenclaw,” offered Jeremy.

“And I can do the same in Hufflepuff.” Robert confirmed.

“I think having someone take the lead to do it is important,” Susan said, “but
we can all do our part.”

The group murmured their agreement.

“Right,” Neville said briskly, “the final thing we should discuss is the
possibility that Harry’s enemies get annoyed when Harry does well and try to
take their frustrations out on us.”

“And safety here at Hogwarts is a relative thing.” Daphne said dryly.

Ron folded his arms over his chest. “Let’s face it; Sirius found ways around
security last year enough that he got into the dorm! Moody’s good enough that
it’s not probable *that* would happen again but Crouch Junior is smart and
sneaky and might find a way to slip through the cracks.”

“So what are you suggesting, Weasley?” Draco prompted sharply.

“Buddy system.” Ron said succinctly. “Pair up with someone else in the
alliance and make sure your buddy knows where you should be at all times. Set
up a code word with them to make sure they always know you are who you say you
are and vice versa.”

“Constant vigilance.” Daphne stated with a smirk.

“Exactly.” Ron said, taking her seriously. “Junior almost killed my family.
He’s mad and I doubt he’ll think twice about killing a couple of kids if he
thinks it’ll get to Harry.”

They all sobered a little and Hermione gave Ron an approving nod.

Neville cleared his throat. “I think that’s it for now. Anyone have anything
else?”

There was a flurry of offers to help with the research as the alliance drifted
out of the office. Luna skipped over to wait with Ron and Neville.

Robert sighed as he ushered the last of the others out. He and Natalie
exchanged a look and both of them turned regretfully to Neville.

“I know,” Neville said before they could say anything, “we need to find a
different place to meet.”

“Thanks.” Robert said with relief.

“It’s just…” Natalie began awkwardly.

“We understand,” Hermione said immediately, “you’re representing all of
Hogwarts and housing us gives the impression that you’re completely on Harry’s
side when you need to appear impartial to Cedric Diggory and his supporters.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think Cedric agrees with what his father’s said
in the press.” Robert sank into the chair by his desk and waved his hands
expressively. “I think he’s embarrassed by it all.”

“It can’t be easy for him,” Natalie commented, “he can hardly criticise his
Dad in public.”

“But he could do more to stop his supporters from adding fuel to the fire.”
Neville stated firmly. “Harry only agreed to participate in the tournament to
save the life and magic of the other Champions. In some quarters it might be
considered a life debt. If Diggory allows his supporters to heap abuse on
Harry, at the very least he’s going to come off like an arrogant arse.”

“And he’s going to rack up some serious bad karma.” Luna noted.

“I’ll talk with Cedric today.” Robert promised, sighing heavily again. “He
stood up on the night of Halloween, maybe he just needs a nudge to stand up
again.”

“Let’s hope so because if Cedric’s supporters insult Harry the way they’ve
been doing the last few days anywhere near Sirius, he’s likely to turn them
all into newts.” Ron pointed out bluntly.

Hermione grimaced but nodded. It would probably be only the beginning of what
Sirius would do.

o-O-o

*6**th* *November 1994*

If there was one thing Peter appreciated about their new accommodation, it was
the view. Diagon Alley stretched out below him like an endless river of
people; chatter bubbling up to murmur at the window. It made Peter feel like
he was part of it in a comforting way. It was a much better situation than the
isolation he’d felt at the Crouch house, locked in most of the time with only
the creepy house elf for company while his Master napped under his snake’s
watchful eyes. Of course, Peter reminded himself ruefully, he was still locked
in with a napping Dark Lord and his snake but at least the sense of isolation
was gone as was the creepy house elf.

He shifted his gaze to look around the well-appointed flat above the
apothecary. There was a small kitchenette under the archway to his left.
Mostly it was used for potions which luckily the smells from the apothecary
masked. There was the Polyjuice Barty primarily used; the nutrient potion that
kept the body his Master occupied in good enough condition for him to continue
occupying it; the beginning of the potion required for the ritual that would
return his Master to a corporeal body of his own.

Peter glanced away from the kitchen, his gaze drifting over the small dining
table he sat at by the window, and over the comfortable sitting area. There
were two bedrooms; one was set aside for the Master and one was occupied by
Barty when he was in residence. Peter slept on the couch.

He didn’t mind too much.

Barty had done a good job. He’d developed the alias of Rupert Patch as soon as
the first Polyjuice had been made. Patch was a wizard who worked from an
eccentric wizard who collected antiques, and whose job entailed being in
London enough to need a base. Patch had a wife and child (who would be played
by Peter and the Dark Lord if it ever came to that) who had eventually joined
him in London following the sale of their country property. Thankfully, their
landlord wasn’t all that interested as long as Patch paid the rent, and
luckily Barty had embezzled most of his father’s money into a new account for
Patch long before their escape from the Crouch residence had become a
necessity.

Barty was riding high on his success at getting Harry into the tournament and
Peter couldn’t blame him for the celebratory smugness. Barty had done a good
job especially since the security had been very tight.

Still, resentment nibbled at him because the Dark Lord had been *very* pleased
at Barty’s success.

Peter frowned as he looked out on the surging mass of people all bustling
about their daily lives. Since Barty had entered the picture, the Dark Lord
had turned more and more to him to do things of importance. In many ways it
had made sense back in the Summer when Peter was a wanted criminal and Barty
had been an unknown to their enemies, but it continued even with Barty’s
existence being revealed publicly. And Barty was impressive; incredibly
powerful and smart.

Not like Peter.

Oh, Peter had his talents but he was prepared to admit that on pure magical
terms, Barty beat him hands down. Like James Potter had done. Like Sirius did.

He shuddered delicately and reached for his abandoned cup of tea, wincing at
the cold bitter taste.

So, Peter had been relegated to second best again, Peter thought morosely; he
should be used to it.

And it wasn’t quite true.

The Dark Lord had granted him a special place as a loyal and willing servant
within the ritual that would bring him back to full strength.

*Servant.*

A position which meant that he would serve the Dark Lord’s needs for the next
nine months without question, and that rankled in the face of the praise
heaped on Barty who clearly occupied the position as favoured lieutenant.

Peter tapped his cup anxiously and darted a look over his shoulder. It was
dangerous thinking things around the Dark Lord or even the snake which seemed
to have a closer bond than simply familiar with her Master. He shivered and
fought the urge to turn into his animagus form because as comforting as being
a rat was, he wasn’t unaware that a rat was natural prey for the snake.

He dragged his mind back to his previous thoughts. Barty was away again,
helping Dennis Travers with his mission; Travers, who was proving just as
loyal as his father to the Dark Lord.

Peter had been recruited by Travers’s father who had been his supervisor at
the Ministry back in the late Seventies; scared by the threat of being hurt
and lured by the promise of protection, Travers had brought him before the
Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord had taken one look at Peter and seen the rat and
the possibilities. Peter had been immediately hooked by the self-importance of
being the Dark Lord’s hidden spy. Travers had been made to forget Peter and
Peter had turned his attention to pleasing the Dark Lord in return for knowing
he was protected from harm.

There had been days, of course, when he had questioned his decision, when he
had met up with James or Sirius or Remus or worse, *Lily*, and felt the pang
of horror that he was betraying them, betraying what they all stood for in
terms of principles and values. Because he did love them; remembered nights
when Remus had helped him study; Sirius’s help through the final
transfiguration into his animagus form; James stepping in between Peter and a
Slytherin without thinking. But there had been distance between them since
school with James’s marriage and Sirius’s work and Remus drifting off to the
packs so there was also the knowledge that he was safe and that they would
never know of his betrayal; of a secret delight in tricking them, in spying on
them without getting caught. He had even used his position to save them. Once.

But then, of course, there had been Harry. Baby Harry who had gurgled at Peter
and pulled his tie; a strange fragile creature that captivated and repulsed
Peter all at the same time; power liming Harry’s skin and crawling over
Peter’s Dark Mark as though he knew and would tell at any moment.

And the Dark Lord had been strangely fascinated with the baby, demanding
reports on Harry’s progress.

Peter hadn’t thought twice about telling the secret of the Potters’ hideaway,
knowing refusal would be his own death. He’d hoped in an abstract way that
James and Lily would survive; had been much more ambivalent about Harry. It
had been shocking on the night to witness James cut down fighting to save his
family; to hear Lily begging for Harry’s life. But more shocking had been the
moment when the Dark Lord had tried to kill Harry and the curse had been
thrown back at him on the panicked wave of a child’s pure power, slamming the
Dark Lord’s spirit from his body and almost bringing the cottage down around
the cot.

Peter had never had any illusion that Harry wasn’t a powerful wizard. But he’d
cast his lot that Halloween night and he’d known Sirius and Remus would never
forgive him his betrayal. He’d considered it a minor miracle that it had taken
them until Harry was almost fourteen before they’d tracked him down. Of
course, Sirius being in Azkaban, tricked there by Peter, had helped forestall
that confrontation as had his living as a rat for so many years.

He still couldn’t believe Harry had saved his life that night at the Shrieking
Shack.

Guilt wormed its way through Peter again and he was grateful for the soft rap
on the window heralding the arrival of the newspaper delivery owl, distracting
him from his memories. At least he was grateful until he saw the headline.

“***A TRUE CHAMPION: THE BOY WHO LIVED PROCLAIMS HE WILL COMPETE TO WIN!”***

“Bugger!” Peter stated under his breath. He quickly read through the rest of
the story and squashed it into his chest when he’d finished as though he could
hide it there.

In one way, he wasn’t surprised.

He had lived as Scabbers long enough around Harry to know that his friend’s
son had a lot of James’s sense of duty and honour underneath the appalling
muggle upbringing he’d been subjected to living. Deciding not to destroy the
Goblet of Fire (and really Peter had known Harry was probably capable of
destroying the artefact — he had destroyed the Dark Lord when he was a baby)
to save the other Champions was exactly the self-sacrificing instinct that had
gotten James killed.

But in lots and lots of ways, the Harry Peter had known for the previous three
years at Hogwarts while he had been masquerading as Ron Weasley’s pet, had
always reminded Peter mostly of Lily. Lily, who had pitted herself against the
Marauders from the beginning and who wouldn’t be impressed or intimidated by
them; who dealt with their pranking her in second year by pranking them back
in a more evil way designed to scare them away from ever pranking her again
(it had worked). Lily, whose ultimate victory had been making James grow up in
many ways and stealing him away from the Marauders. Lily, who had stood toe to
toe with a Dark Lord and begged not for her own life but her child’s, and
still had cast something that had stalled the Killing curse enough for her son
to shove it back at the Dark Lord.

Outside of the Dark Lord, Lily was the most dangerous person Peter had ever
met, and that included Sirius Black who was also in a league of his own when
compared to normal people.

Harry was his mother’s son.

The bold and fearless statement that his enemies might mean for him to come to
harm in the tournament, but he would play as a Champion to win it, had Lily’s
courage and bravery stamped all the way through it.

And perhaps a smidgeon of Sirius’s ‘Fuck You’ reckless bravado.

The Dark Lord was not going to be pleased.

Peter snorted softly. That was an understatement. The Dark Lord was going to
be furious; raging and ranting kind of furious. He was going to be furious
that Harry eschewed being tricked into the tournament and instead insisted he
had chosen it to protect others and he was going to be furious that Harry
wasn’t cowed by the danger he was facing.

Although maybe in hindsight they should have already known that. Harry had
followed a thief into the bowels of Hogwarts to protect a legendary
Philosopher’s stone; he had battled a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets; he
had thwarted the Dark Lord three times. Maybe, Peter mused, they should have
considered that Harry wouldn’t be cowed.

Maybe, Peter continued to muse, he should have considered that before running
to Albania and allying himself with the Dark Lord again.

But what choice did he have?

Harry had granted him mercy in preventing his death only to insist that Peter
would face justice and be sent to Azkaban for his role in James’s and Lily’s
deaths… for the deaths of the muggles he’d caused setting up Sirius… for
framing Sirius… for being a Death Eater. In some respects he would have
preferred the quick and no doubt painful death Sirius and Remus would have
given him rather than face Azkaban and the Dementors… a cell and no respite
from his crimes.

Yes, Harry was his mother’s son. Lily would no doubt have found Peter’s fate
appropriate and fitting.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and Peter acknowledged the animal
instinct by freezing, scenting the air to confirm the presence of the snake as
it slithered into view, a deadly black slash against the Argyle carpet.

“He’s awake.” Peter acknowledged as the snake hissed. “I’ll get his potion.”
He moved slowly so not to alarm her. It only took a moment to pour the potion
into the required silver goblet. He snagged the newspaper on his way back
through the living room and walked quickly to the Dark Lord’s room.

The small child of three that the Dark Lord inhabited had been healthy and
robust; dark haired and blue eyed. The latter had long changed to red and the
hair was slowly falling out as the body decayed under the weight of the
possession.

Peter set aside the goblet and newspaper on the dresser and hurried over to
attend the more basic bodily needs of the child. Neither he nor the Dark Lord
spoke during the trip to the bathroom, through the bath and change of clothes.
Peter clean-spelled the bed-linen, lit scented candles to light the room and
propped the Dark Lord up against a veritable mountain of pillows before
handing him the goblet. The potion was downed swiftly and the goblet handed
back to him without a word. The Dark Lord motioned impatiently at Peter and he
slowly laid the newspaper out on the bed, fearing the worst.

He wasn’t expecting the low chuckle that emerged from the twisted smile on the
Dark Lord’s infant face.

“Master?”

“I see our little boy is all grown up at last, Peter.” The vocal intonation
was not a child’s and Peter resolutely did not want to know what body
modifications the Dark Lord had made.

“He is arrogant to think he can win it, Master.” Peter said obsequiously.

“Is he?” asked the Dark Lord mildly. ‘I have discovered it is best not to
underestimate the Potter boy, Peter.’ His fingers trailed over the picture of
Harry which glared at the Dark Lord and brandished its wand threateningly.
“And now… now he finally presents a real challenge.”

Peter was speechless. Did the Dark Lord want a challenge?

Something must have shown on his face because the Dark Lord chucked dryly
again.

“When I face at him after the ritual,” the Dark Lord said, ‘when I crush him
and send him to join his parents,’ his finger tapped the photo again, “no-one
will deny that he was my most formidable challenge nor that I prevailed and he
did not.”

Ah. Well, Peter could understand that. The whole being beaten by a baby was a
tad humiliating and if the Dark Lord thought Harry winning the tournament
helped to correct that impression… Peter could understand that.

“Crushing his defiance will make my victory that much sweeter.” The Dark Lord
continued as he read over the article again, irritation at last seeping
through his words and giving away how riled he really was that Harry had
*chosen* to be entered into the tournament in the final analysis and had
openly declared he was going to make an attempt to win it. “But defiance will
sweeten the blood of my enemy for the ritual and make me stronger.”

“Yes, Master.” Peter said obediently. He wanted to fidget but knew better than
to draw attention to himself.

“But we cannot allow Potter nor his cohorts like your old friend Black to
believe that his defiance has cowed *us*.” The Dark Lord looked up finally.
“Have we heard from Fenrir?”

“He’s waiting for instructions in a bolthole he has in the North.” Peter
immediately reported.

“Send for him.” The Dark Lord ordered imperiously.

Peter bowed his head and scurried out to do his bidding as the snake slid back
inside the room with the Dark Lord. He had some idea of what the Dark Lord
would ask of Fenrir; terrorising attacks probably on Harry’s supporters. He
shivered, grateful that he wasn’t one of Harry’s supporters and feeling a
touch sorry for those that were including the Weasleys who had unwittingly
provided him with such a wonderful hiding place for so many years.

Perhaps, Peter considered brightly, he had made the right decision.

Harry might be a powerful wizard but the Dark Lord was the Dark Lord, and not
even death had stopped him. Harry would be crushed sooner or later. Peter
ignored the twinge of guilt and panic. When Harry died he would be nothing but
pleased, Peter thought determinedly; nothing but pleased, and richly rewarded
for his part in the boy’s downfall.

o-O-o

*6**th* *November 1994*

Harry stepped out of the floo and smiled back at the beaming Head of
Gryffindor even as Sirius surreptitiously brushed soot from Harry’s hair.

“Welcome back to Hogwarts.” Minerva said warmly. “Even if you’re not
officially a Hogwarts student for the rest of this year, we are pleased to
have you return.”

“Me too.” Harry said simply.

He’d frowned a lot when Sirius had explained the grand plan that he was going
back to Hogwarts but not as an official student, but he’d seen the sense in
it. It made it very clear that Cedric was the Hogwarts Champion for one thing,
and for another, it meant he could stay in his own set of rooms with Sirius.

He darted a quick look at his father and smiled brightly as love bubbled up
inside of him. Sirius had given him the best of both worlds that Harry had
wanted; he had made it happen so Harry would feel safe and secure within
Hogwarts; would have someone he could be just Harry with.

“Here is your new timetable.” Minerva handed him the parchment.

Harry took it with a sigh and briefly glanced at it. It was everything Sirius
had said he had worked out but Harry passed it to Sirius to make sure.

Sirius nodded. “This looks good.”

“All the staff teaching Harry have signed a document that confirms for the
duration of the tournament, they are also faculty of ‘The Light.’” Minerva
stated briskly. She caught Harry’s gaze. “That means we will treat you exactly
the same as we treat Mister Diggory in terms of the tournament. We’ll be happy
to provide tutoring for spells and knowledge should you ask specifically but
we will not be able to direct you as far as the tournament strategy is
concerned.”

There was a regretful tone to her voice and Harry smiled to reassure her more
than anything.

“Sirius explained the rules.” Harry said. “I’ll ask for the tutoring if I need
it.”

“Good.” Minerva said. “I understand that you’ve constructed a training plan?”

Harry nodded. The academic side was a combination of Hermione’s and Remus’s
plan after some advice from Sirius, but there was also a physical training
plan that Doctor Jordan had been happy to contribute, and a ‘Keep Harry Sane’
plan that he had discussed with Sirius which included things like his
continued animagus training, Quidditch and what Sirius called goofing off
time.

“Let me show you to your rooms.” Minerva said. “Dobby has been busy all day
and I’ll think you’ll be pleased.”

Harry fell into step beside Sirius, glad of the weight of his father’s hand on
his shoulder. He knew Sirius had overseen the whole room thing so he wasn’t
too worried. They followed Minerva out of her office, down the stairs and
along a corridor. They went up another very long flight of stairs and along
another corridor until they came to a halt outside a floor to ceiling portrait
of a lion.

“The password is currently set to Champion but you will want to change it.”
Minerva said before turning and giving the password. The portrait swung open
and Minerva stepped inside, Harry and Sirius following her.

They were on the top of the tower, Harry realised immediately. The circular
nature of the space gave it away as did the slightly overcast sky outside of
the narrow windows. The room was a half circle; a den area to the left filled
with two comfortable tartan sofas in an ‘L’ formation in front of the roaring
fire, with a dining area to the right filled with a sturdy oak table and
chairs. Two doors were positioned at the back of the room and a staircase
curved up the side of the wall.

“Study,” Minerva said pointing at one of the doors and then to the other, “and
a training room with a duelling area, small potions store and a condensed
library. There’s a staircase leading down to a kitchenette although Dobby is
also welcome to use the main kitchens.”

She ushered them up the stairs.

They arrived on a landing with three doors. Harry was surprised to see his
name on one door and Sirius’s on another; the third was blank.

“I’m afraid you’re sharing a bathroom.” Minerva said with a sigh. ‘Something
to do with the plumbing but the house-elves couldn’t alter the space further.’
She pushed Harry towards his room. “Take a look, Harry.”

Harry opened the door and took a step inside, freezing as he saw how closely
the furnishings had been duplicated to give him a sense of Griffin House. The
bed wasn’t the same four-poster that adorned his dorm at Hogwarts but a near
copy of the bed he had in his own room. He frowned. Actually, he would swear
it was his bed. He quirked a questioning eyebrow at Sirius.

“Dobby insisted.” Sirius said brightly.

“Hmnph.” Minerva snorted.

The wardrobe, desk, chair and bookcase were similar to those in the dorms
though, and already filled with his things. Hedwig’s perch was empty but the
window was open and Harry had no doubt she’d be inside by the time night fell.

“This is great.” He said simply.

Minerva exhaled with relief as her gaze moved to Sirius, an eyebrow arched in
his direction.

“Yes, it’s good.” Sirius leaned on the wall, folding his arms nonchalantly.
“Thank you.”

Minerva nodded. “I’ll leave you to settle in.” She paused at the doorway.
“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Harry.”

Sirius straightened once the echo of her footsteps had faded. “So what do you
really think?”

“It’s…” Harry shrugged, “weird but good?”

“You know that’s pretty much how I feel.” Sirius admitted with a grin. He
brushed down his robes and gestured at him. “I never thought I’d be living
here again.”

Harry smiled ruefully at him. “Sorry?”

Sirius lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “Frankly, I don’t want to be
anywhere else.”

And Harry knew that was true. He wandered over to the window and looked out on
Hogwarts. The Quidditch pitch was over to his right, the lake to his left,
with the Forbidden Forest stretched out in front of him.

He sighed. “I can still go to Quidditch practice, right?”

“Right.” Sirius said, coming over to stand beside him, “I think Minnie’s keen
you help the new Seeker.”

Ginny.

The new Seeker was Ginny. She was the reserve. Harry groaned.

“What?” asked Sirius concerned.

“Ginny must be the new Seeker.” Harry explained. “That’s just… great.”

Sirius gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, you can always stop helping if she
spends more time focusing on you than on the practice.” He nudged him. “Have
you thought about how you’re going to ask Hermione out yet?”

Harry nodded. He figured he would go with the same plan just maybe a different
location and day. The only problem was that the Hogsmeade weekend wasn’t going
to be an acceptable date any longer. He and Sirius had discussed it and
reluctantly agreed that they shouldn’t take the risk of Harry being out so
much in public, and definitely not without either Sirius or Remus with him. So
he had to figure out a different date other than going into the village.
Neville probably had some pointers from all the practicing with Hannah.

“You need any help or advice or…”

“No!” Harry snapped it out hurriedly. “Thank you but…”

“Mind my own business?” Sirius smirked at him. “I see how it is.”

Harry motioned at him. “We could always talk about your love life.”

“I have no love life.” Sirius countered with no hint of embarrassment. “I’m
living vicariously through you and Remus.”

“Remus is interested in someone?” Harry jumped on that titbit immediately
because he hadn’t realised that Remus liked anyone.

“Old love affair who is now tragically for Remus but apparently happily for
her married to another werewolf.” Sirius explained succinctly. “You should be
grateful that you missed having to spend an evening with Remus getting maudlin
about missed chances and how he’s never going to find love.” He poked Harry in
his upper arm gently.

Harry batted Sirius’s hand away and winced inwardly because he knew he had
tendency to forget that Sirius and Remus had lives before that Summer, before
the Halloween back in ’eighty-one that changed it all for them.

“What about you?” asked Harry, suddenly curious.

Sirius raised both his eyebrows. “What about me?”

“Did you have someone… in the past, I mean?” Harry asked tentatively. “A
missed chance?”

“Nope.” Sirius answered immediately. He looked out of the window and Harry got
the sense that he was gathering his thoughts rather than avoiding the
question. “I dated a lot through school but there wasn’t any specific person
that caught my attention — not the way your Mum snagged your Dad’s anyway.
When I left Hogwarts… there were occasional dates, here and there? Your Mum
did go on a match-making kick soon after she and your Dad got hitched which
your Dad thought was hilarious… but then I went abroad undercover and when I
got back, I was healing and then there was you just born, and the war and…” he
shrugged. “I always thought there was plenty of time.”

“You could date someone now?” Harry pressed. “You know if you wanted to; I
wouldn’t mind.” He ignored the churn of doubt in his stomach at the thought of
someone else having a right to Sirius’s attention and time.

Sirius smiled at him. “Let’s get you through the tournament first.”

Harry bit his lip as guilt quickly surged through him at the moment’s relief
he’d felt at Sirius’s reply. “I don’t… you don’t have to put your life on hold
for me.”

Sirius’s eyes widened as though startled. “Nothing’s on hold.” He reached out
and clasped Harry’s shoulder. ‘Look, if there was someone I was interested in,
this would be an entirely different conversation. But there’s not.’ He smirked
a little. “Despite Nora Zabini’s best efforts.”

Harry chuckled because Nora was definitely not subtle in her attempts to get
Sirius’s attention.

“And in all honesty,” Sirius said firmly, ‘I’m happy with the status quo.’ He
paused and waved a hand. “Well, I’d be happier if Voldemort was dead and you
were able to have a normal school year without anyone trying to kill you but…”

“I know.” Harry said warmly, reaching out and hugging Sirius. He still felt a
little guilty that he didn’t want Sirius to get involved with someone
romantically but as long as Sirius was happy then that was OK wasn’t it?

Sirius hugged him back before ruffling his hair and causing Harry to spring
back with a warning expression. Sirius ignored it and hooked an arm around
Harry’s neck, grinning.

“Come on. I’ll show you the training room and study.” Sirius said.

Harry allowed Sirius to drag him downstairs. The study was decked out a lot
like Sirius’s study at Griffin House and had the same rule — Harry was always
welcome even if all he did was read while Sirius worked.

The training room was cool. Shelves filled with books filled one wall, the
duelling area was clearly defined and came with an in-built shield to protect
the rest of the room, and there was an array of physical training equipment.
Harry knew that Cedric had been given access to something similar in
Hufflepuff to ensure there was no question of favouritism. He couldn’t wait to
get started.

The rest of the afternoon passed getting settled into his new room and
finishing off the homework he’d had while he was recovering from the magical
exhaustion. Hedwig turned up mid-afternoon, tired and grumpy from the flight.
He comforted her with owl treats and she tucked her head beneath her wing and
went to sleep on her perch.

By evening, the weirdness of being at Hogwarts but not in the dorm had worn
off enough that he moved onto worrying about how everyone was going to react
to him living in his own quarters with Sirius so he was pleased when Ron,
Hermione and Neville turned up early for dinner.

All three of them sprang forward for a surprise group hug that left Harry
breathless when he answered the portrait. He adjusted his glasses nervously as
he stepped back and ushered them inside.

His eyes caught on Hermione’s immediately and he gestured at her hair, which
was smoothed down and pinned back in some complicated female hair-do that he’d
seen on Penny before. “You look great.”

Hermione’s cheeks went pink at his compliment. “Lavender helped me.”

“It took hours.” Ron complained. “We would have been here ages ago but we were
waiting forever in the Common Room.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Like I never have to wait for you.” She
retorted before turning to Harry with a chagrined expression. “Actually it did
take longer than I expected. I don’t think I could do this every day.”

Harry shrugged at her apologetic tone, unsure why she thought she had to be
sorry about it. “Maybe for special occasions then?” He suggested. “It does
look great but your hair’s good the normal way too.”

Her cheeks went red again but she smiled brightly at him. “Thank you, Harry.”

They both grinned at each other for a long moment.

Ron coughed loudly.

Harry swallowed the sigh he wanted to make but took Ron’s non-verbal point —
he had promised not to make his getting together with Hermione uncomfortable
for Ron. He moved them into the living room and they all took seats on the
sofas as Dobby popped in with mugs of warmed spiced apple juice. He turned to
Neville.

“So, how are things?” Harry asked.

Neville straightened imperceptibly, changing from shy friend to confident
second. “We’re organised. Hermione’s leading up research, Heather’s in charge
of your peer tutors since Robert and Natalie are both snowed under being Head
Boy and Girl…”

“Although both will make time for the tutoring if there’s something specific
you need that they’re good at.” Hermione interjected.

Ron snorted. “They could do more!”

“They have responsibilities, Ron,” Hermione contradicted him smartly, “they
can’t just drop everything to help Harry especially when they’re supposed to
representing Hogwarts.” She sent him another apologetic look.

“No, don’t worry,” Harry waved her off, “I get they’re caught between
loyalties here. If all they can help me out with is an occasional tutoring
session then that’s fine.”

Ron snorted again but softly. “You shouldn’t settle for that.”

“I kind of see Ron’s point,” Neville said before Harry could reply, ‘after all
Robert swore fealty.’ He held up a hand. “But I agree that probably not making
them choose gives us the higher ground and ultimately, I think they’ll end up
helping more because of that.”

Ron subsided, taking a gulp of his drink.

Harry exchanged a grateful look with Neville. “OK, so Hermione’s got research,
Heather’s got tutoring and…”

“And Jeremy’s got PR.” Neville concluded.

Harry grimaced. “Three elements, right? Press, gossip clean-up and
cheerleading?”

“Yeah,” Neville dug into his pocket and brought out a braided leather bracelet
in red and gold, “Hannah made this for you. We were going to go with beads but
some found those looked too girly.”

“Way too girly, mate.” Ron said emphatically.

“Wow.” Harry turned it over in his hand. “This is nice.”

Hermione smiled at him and displayed her wrist where a thinner version was
already tied. “Professor Dumbledore agreed to the bracelets being part of the
uniform so long as there was a bracelet for every Champion.”

“Diggory’s is Hufflepuff colours,” Ron chimed in, shaking his wrist to reveal
that he was also wearing a red and gold version, “Beauxbatons is blue and gold
and Durmstrang’s is a plain black.”

“They’ve proved very popular.” Hermione added. “And, of course, some of the
Hufflepuffs’ like Susan and Hannah are wearing both yours and Cedric’s.” She
leaned over and helped Harry tie it around his wrist.

“Or in politically sensitive positions like Robert and Natalie.” Neville said.
“I have a couple spare for Sirius and Remus.” He placed them on the table.

“Thanks.” Harry said, knowing both men would be wearing them as soon as they
were given them. The wrist-band looked cool. It reminded him of some of the
leather necklaces and bracelets that he’d seen Noshi and his family wear in
the States.

“All of Gryffindor is wearing yours along with the Potter alliance.” Neville
said. “So you do have visible support here at Hogwarts, at least comparable to
Krum’s and Delacour’s.”

More support than Krum and Delacour if he had all of Gryffindor, Harry mused.

“On the gossip side… everyone in the alliance is on message with you playing
to win, but respect for the other Champions.” Neville said. “Draco’s even
managing to not sneer every time Cedric walks near him so that’s something.”

“I can’t believe Malfoy’s coming to dinner with us.” Ron complained.

“He needs the visible sign that we support him.” Harry rejoined. He had been
surprised at Draco’s tenaciousness in supporting him, especially given their
history, but he knew it needed to be rewarded with the same level of support
back. “Theo’s coming too.”

Neville nodded slowly. “It’ll be good to get an update on Slytherin. There are
a lot of rumours going around about a massive argument once Bulstrode found
out about Voldemort’s genealogy.”

“Yeah, Draco already wrote me a letter about that. Apparently a lot of them
are not too happy with their families at the moment,” Harry gestured with his
cup, “which is great for us. It’s undermining Voldemort’s ability to gain
supporters from this generation.”

They all nodded.

“I guess I can put up with Malfoy at dinner then.” Ron muttered.

“Speaking of the Houses, Hufflepuff’s in a bit of disarray.” Neville commented
a little hesitantly.

“I think some of them are just upset that your being in the tournament has
taken the spotlight off the fact that it’s a Hufflepuff representing
Hogwarts.” Hermione explained. “But there is… hostility there.”

“Diggory finally shut up some of his supporters after Robert had a word.” Ron
said bluntly. “But some of them are still spouting off the same rubbish as his
Dad.”

“That I entered myself because I’m attention-seeking and just plain crazy?”
Harry nodded. Sirius had been furious with some of the comments Amos Diggory
had made and Harry knew he had Brian and Mary on the case to see whether
something could be done legally about what amounted to slander.

“A couple of them have had warnings from the teachers under the anti-bullying
policy but until they say it to your face…” Hermione sighed heavily.

Harry grimaced again. Great. Just what he needed. He rubbed his forehead and
shook the thought away. Maybe being called attention-seeking and crazy wasn’t
nice but it would be worse if he didn’t have support and he had plenty. He had
to focus on that and forget about the rest, or at least try not to let it get
to him. It could be worse, Harry mused, if Sirius hadn’t taken over his
guardianship… if he’d been entered into the tournament without warning and
without people knowing he hadn’t entered himself…

He didn’t want to think about it. He’d probably be on his own or, his eyes
flickered to Hermione, maybe with one friend helping him.

“The articles today have gone down really well though.” Neville said, pulling
Harry back into the conversation.

Harry waved at them. “Nobody’s complaining about my having my own set of rooms
and lesson plan?”

“Well, the article made it clear that it was Sirius who insisted so…
everyone’s blaming him.” Hermione said. “We’ve, uh, kind of encouraged that.”

“It worked with your mind healer thing.” Ron commented draining his mug and
setting it on the coffee table.

Harry nodded. “OK. Well, at least I know I won’t get lynched tomorrow.”

“Everyone’s looking forward to having you back in class, mate.” Ron asserted
with a grin.

“He’s right.” Neville said with a smile.

The door chimed and Harry figured it was Draco and Theo. He went to answer it
with most of his nerves about returning to Hogwarts settled. He’d made the
right decision to come back.

It was a thought that stayed with Harry buoying his spirits as he got dressed
in a variation of the Hogwarts’ uniform the next morning. The cut was the same
but where his Gryffindor crests had resided, the crests of the Houses of
Potter and Black were proudly displayed. Harry ran a hand over them, checked
his appearance again in the mirror and made his way downstairs.

Sirius glanced across the room from his seat on one of the comfy sofas. The
newspapers lay in disarray around him. “All set?”

Harry nodded. “I’m meeting the others at the Great Hall.” He made a quick
tempus charm. “They should have finished breakfast by now.”

“If you need me send your patronus.” Sirius said firmly, getting to his feet
and walking over to Harry.

Harry hugged him briefly, grabbed his book bag and left before he lost his
nerve.

He skipped down the stairs, following the usual path to the Hall. A lot of the
students he passed smiled at him and he smiled gratefully back, with each step
believing it was going to be alright. He entered the Great Hall and ignored
the lull in chatter that followed as he focused on his friends.

Two steps away from the Gryffindor table, his way was blocked by a sixth year
Hufflepuff boy Harry vaguely recognised and a Ravenclaw girl. Both of them
glared at Harry meanly. Harry’s gut tensed in grim anticipation.

“You have some nerve coming back, Potter.” The Hufflepuff snarled. “You
couldn’t resist the attention of competing in the tournament, taking the glory
from Hogwarts’ rightful Champion.”

Harry didn’t reply. He could see Minerva and Professor Flitwick racing toward
them and he signalled for Ron, Hermione and Neville to stay away.

“We’ll be wearing these!” The Ravenclaw thrust a badge at him.

He glanced at it. It was a square badge proclaiming support for Cedric but the
words changed in front of his eyes to ‘Ignore Potter the Rotter,’ and Harry
was unable to prevent the flare of hurt that he felt at the nasty message.

“What is going on here?” Minerva demanded.

“Accio badge!” Flitwick said, holding his hand out to catch the badge as it
leapt out of Harry’s. His expression grew stony as he took in the message. He
showed it to Minerva and glowered at the two sixth years. “Miss Tatler, I
expect better from you.”

Minerva cast a furious look around the Hall. “I suggest that if anyone else
has possession of one of these… badges, they get rid of them immediately or
find themselves in detention.”

Harry noted a few hasty removals by students over on the Hufflepuff and
Slytherin tables. He wasn’t surprised even if he was slightly disheartened.
Hufflepuff was loyal to Cedric and the Slytherins would support a troll over a
Gryffindor. He was mostly disappointed by Cedric himself who ducked his head
and was obviously intent on pretending nothing was going on.

“Our apologies, Lord Potter.” Flitwick said. “This is definitely not the way
we wanted to welcome the Champion of the Light to Hogwarts.”

Harry admired the subtle manner in which Flitwick had told everyone in the
Hall of Harry’s changed status. He was no longer Mister Potter, Hogwarts
student, but Lord Potter, a competing Champion.

“You carry on, Lord Potter,” Flitwick continued, “but be assured the
perpetrators will be dealt with.”

“I’ll take care of informing Lord Black.” Minerva glowered at the rapidly
paling sixth years. “You will both go immediately to my office and think about
your actions and whether they are an acceptable way to represent Hogwarts and
its Champion,” she said sternly.

The sixth years shuffled out thoroughly chastised.

Harry glanced at Minerva and debated briefly whether he could convince her not
to tell Sirius, and gave it up immediately as a lost cause.

“Thank you.” Harry murmured. He slid around them and joined his friends who
were hovering at the end of the Gryffindor table.

“You OK?” Hermione asked in a quiet voice.

Harry nodded briskly. “Let’s just get to class.”

They turned for the door and found Viktor waiting with his friend. Harry’s
heart sank. He really didn’t want another confrontation. But he squared his
shoulders.

“Viktor.” He said evenly.

“Harry,” Viktor bowed his head a touch, “I vish to welcome vou back. I am
looking forward to competing against vou.”

Relief stormed through Harry. “Thank you.” He said gratefully. “I hope you can
still join me for Quidditch practice.”

“I vould like that.” Viktor agreed. “Let me know vhen.” He made another bow
and departed.

Ron gazed after him admiringly. “Now, that is a class act.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a mutual eye roll at Ron’s hero worship, and
suddenly everything seemed back to normal. It was almost enough to sustain him
through the morning classes; through the whispers and stares that followed him
on his travels through the castle. By the time he settled at the Gryffindor
table for lunch, he was enormously relieved that he would have an escape at
the end of the day.

Hermione smiled sympathetically as he played with the plate of chicken stew he
had chosen. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”

Harry shrugged. “About as bad as the Heir of Slytherin nonsense.”

Neville sighed. He and Ron had sat opposite to Harry and Hermione. “It’s
pretty bad that you have something to compare it to at all.”

Ron snorted. He was about to speak when his eyes went wide and he stared at
something over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry looked half expecting to see Viktor. Instead he found the very beautiful
Veela representing Beauxbatons in the tournament. He hastily clambered to his
feet and kissed Fleur’s proffered hand.

“Miss Delacour.” Harry said politely.

“Fleur, please,” Fleur smiled prettily, “we are fellow Champions, non?”

“Sure,” Harry said, bemused, “I’m Harry then.”

Fleur’s smile widened. “Bon. I am looking forward to competing with you in ze
tournament.”

“I look forward to competing with you too.” Harry said, feeling very awkward
in the presence of the poised and elegant Veela. He heard Hermione’s small
cough and gratefully waved at her. “May I introduce my friends?”

Fleur nodded. “But of course.”

Harry smiled. “This is Hermione Granger.”

Hermione stood and shook hands with Fleur as Ron and Neville hastened around
the table to facilitate their introductions. Both boys were mildly affected by
the Veela’s allure, but the introductions passed without incident if not
without slightly glazed looks. Fleur quietly excused herself after, ostensibly
to leave them to their lunch.

“That was nice of her.” Hermione said.

Ron motioned with his knife, sending a drop of sauce flying. “She copied
Krum.”

“It was still nice of her.” Hermione insisted. She poked at her food
wistfully. “She’s very beautiful.”

“So are you.” Harry stated without thinking.

He was rewarded with a huge smile from Hermione and he resolved to ask her out
as soon as he could arrange it.

Ron pointed again with his knife, but toward the door where Cedric was
hurrying out with his head down. “You’d think after his whole ‘the Hogwarts’
Champion stands with you’ spiel at Halloween, that he might have come over
like the others.”

Hermione sighed. “It’s got to be difficult for him with the stuff his father
is saying.”

Harry tuned out their argument; he sympathised with Cedric but he was
disappointed in him too. He caught sight of some of the Hufflepuffs glaring at
him and pushed the last of his chicken stew away.

He really couldn’t wait until the end of the day; the sanctuary of his own
quarters and the solid comfort and support of Padfoot appealed more and more
with each moment that passed.

Ensuring Pronglet Survives: Chapter 4
=====================================

*10**th* *November 1994*

The Wizengamot was in chaos.

Sirius watched carefully at the shouting brouhaha and reminded himself never
to piss off Griselda and Augusta since both of them were doing a sterling job
of shouting Wenlock into submission, and simultaneously staring down Flint and
Gibbon who had stood up to agree with Wenlock’s position on the proposed
suspension of the Werewolf law.

He glanced across to where Lucius was observing the melee of heated debate
with an expression of disdain and careful calculation. Too many people were
giving themselves away, Sirius mused as he turned his attention back to the
others.

Clearly Wenlock’s wooing of the pureblood Ancient and Noble Houses that hadn’t
agreed détentes with Sirius had been somewhat successful since Flint and
Gibbon had stood up in support of his argument against suspending the Werewolf
law. Several of the minor pureblood houses were displaying supportive and
submissive body language accompanied by approving expressions toward Wenlock.
So Wenlock had a greater level of support than he’d had at the previous
sessions.

Maybe, Sirius considered, Lucius’s prediction of some of the minor houses
rushing to hide behind Wenlock to avoid Voldemort’s return was proving true.
According to Lucius, Wenlock had sneered at Lucius’s attempt to warn him.
Sirius was satisfied they’d done the right thing and if Wenlock didn’t take
the warning seriously than that was not Sirius’s problem.

For their part, the Potter alliance had done a good job of standing firmly
behind Harry and not letting the threat of taking on Voldemort shake them.
Daniel Greengrass had done a fantastic job of corralling the minor neutral
houses. They might not be as ready to sign up to the Potter alliance as they
would have been a month before, but they were also not wandering openly in
Wenlock’s direction. It helped that the neutral houses were not exactly in
favour of the Werewolf law.

Since Sirius hadn’t done anything but concentrate on Harry, he was immensely
grateful to Daniel, Augusta and everyone else for stepping up. The flash of
red and gold on his wrist had him smiling. Most of the Potter alliance was
wearing them although a couple like Leonard Abbott were also wearing Diggory’s
yellow and black. His eyes slid to Amos in the fourth tier and he wasn’t
surprised to find the man glaring back at him. He moved his gaze onwards
dismissively.

It was a confrontation waiting to happen.

Leonard had already run interference that morning at the session break, and
Sirius was pleased for once that he had the use of Cornelius’s floo which
meant that he avoided the public forum of the atrium arriving because he had a
feeling Diggory wanted a showdown in front of the press. Probably Diggoty
wanted to confront him about the warning letter that Mary Baron in her
capacity as Harry’s solicitor had sent warning Diggory that if he continued to
make snide insinuations about Harry’s character and well-being in newspapers,
they could and would sue him for slander, regardless of Harry’s respect for
Cedric. They’d sent a similar letter to the press warning them that they
wouldn’t tolerate slurs against Harry’s character. They’d backed off since the
letter which was good since the laws were completely nonsensical and Sirius
wasn’t too certain that they’d actually win if they brought it in front of the
Wizengamot. Sirius wasn’t too worried about the impact of a public showdown
with Diggory in truth — he was fairly certain he could remain in control — but
he didn’t want to take part in something that would make it more difficult for
Harry at Hogwarts.

It was tough.

Despite the visible support Harry was receiving from a good majority of the
school population and his close friends, Harry returned every day from his
classes with small lines of tension bracketing his mouth and eyes; a stiffness
to his posture that suggested hours of being braced for an attack. It hadn’t
helped that the first day back, some students had worn badges proclaiming
‘Support Diggory, Ignore Potter the Rotter.’ The ringleaders had been punished
under the Anti-Bullying policy, but it hadn’t stopped Harry from being hurt by
it. Sirius had never been so glad that he’d insisted on being on site for his
son, for giving Harry somewhere that he could relax and be himself.

He wasn’t impressed by Cedric Diggory either. Whatever good will had been
generated in hearing Cedric’s stand on the night Harry had been announced as a
Champion had eroded. While there was nothing to suggest Diggory himself had
known about the badges before they’d appeared, he hadn’t exactly gone out of
his way to state that they were unacceptable, and while Sirius had gathered
from Harry’s discussions with Neville, Ron and Hermione in their rooms that
Cedric had stopped the more vociferous of his supporters from parroting his
father, he hadn’t quite shut them up either. The Hogwarts’ Champion was, for
the most part, ignoring Harry.

Strangely, both the other Champions seemed much more willing to think of
Harry’s inclusion as a good thing. Viktor Krum was surprisingly a stalwart
supporter; he had turned up the evening before after apparently joining Harry
and the Gryffindor team for Quidditch practice. Sirius had kept watch through
an open study door to the living area in case he was needed but the discussion
had revolved around Quidditch and Seeker moves, with Krum mentoring Harry like
a big brother, or an older cousin. While Sirius still had concerns about
Krum’s befriending Harry, who was so much younger than him (and he figured
some of it had to do with mutual issues with fame and because it was good
politics), he was satisfied that as far as the tournament was concerned, Krum
didn’t have a hidden agenda.

It had been Wednesday night when Ron and Hermione had popped round to do their
homework with Harry that Sirius had finally heard how Fleur Delacour had
approached Harry at Monday lunch time to welcome him back and to inform him
she looked forward to competing against him. Ron had been the one to blurt it
out, mostly excited that Fleur was Veela. Harry had dismissed the whole thing
as ‘not a big deal’ but accepted it was a nice gesture on Fleur’s part. Sirius
suspected that his dismissal of the French girl’s action was partly to
reassure Hermione that she was still the one he wanted to ask out.

Not that Harry had asked Hermione out during the past four days which was
another source of frustration for Harry. The one time Sirius had asked how it
was going and if Harry needed any help, he’d gotten snapped at in a way that
Sirius remembered all too well from when James had been courting Lily. He had
carefully not inquired since. Harry would work it out himself; Sirius knew
that.

Sirius dragged his attention back to the Wizengamot which was settling back
down after an admonition by Albus.

Dirk Cresswell, the Chair of the Committee reviewing the laws on Magical Races
and Creatures, stood up again. “The Werewolf law passed in early June is a
resoundingly ugly piece of legislation. It doesn’t do anything except make it
more difficult for a wizard or a witch infected with lycanthropy to find work
in the wizarding world.” The thirty-something good-looking wizard glared at
the Wizengamot. “Imagine that you were bitten tomorrow. Immediately, you would
be removed from your positions within this body. If you own your company, you
are no longer able to retain ownership. If you work for someone else, they
have the right to fire you. If you have money and property… maybe you will be
able to buy Wolfsbane and survive. But if you need that job or need your
company or rely on the status this position brings you… well, you will
struggle the same way that over two thousand weres in our society already do.”

There was a resounding silence.

Sirius glanced around and noted that there were some considering looks on
those that a moment before had been vehemently opposed. His eyes swept over
one of the minor neutral houses — Zeller — because according to Cornelius,
there was a suspicion that Arnold Zeller was actually an unregistered
werewolf.

“This legislation pushes werewolves into criminal behaviour out of
desperation,” Dirk continued passionately, ‘or it forces them to look for work
in the muggle world and to place the secrecy of our world at risk.’ He made
another sweeping look of the chamber. “I encourage you all to suspend this law
immediately. Thank you.”

Dirk was good, Sirius thought, impressed by the wizard. He had been Arthur’s
recommendation; a muggleborn wizard in the Goblin Liaison office who spoke
fluent Gobbledegook.

Albus cleared his throat. “Let’s vote.”

The vote was passed in favour of suspension but it was a close thing. The
Potter alliance remained steadfast despite some of the members previous voting
through the law. Sirius breathed a sigh of relief as the session was closed
and the Wizengamot started to empty.

Richard leaned over to him. “Shall we pretend to have an in depth conversation
so Diggory can’t approach you?”

“That would be great.” Sirius said with a grateful smile as he sketched a
privacy bubble. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Richard said, grinning back at him. ‘I should be thanking you
for sending me to Paris again. Flick had a great time.’ He waved a hand. “Only
fly in the ointment was having to deal with Fevrier again. He really is a
little turd.”

Sirius nodded. Turd was a surprisingly good description of the French
antiquities dealer; conman was the other term that came to mind. “I can afford
his stringing me along for a while.”

“At least we have our eyes open.” Richard admitted. “Merlin knows how many
people he must con out of a fortune.”

“Too many.” Sirius agreed. But he figured that Fevrier would acquire the
Lumiere translation by the beginning of the next year and that was the only
important thing.

“How’s Remus?” Richard asked tentatively.

Sirius gave a soft hum in response. “Good, I think. He finds being Alpha a bit
awkward but the others haven’t given him any trouble at the chateau and seem
to be accepting his leadership so…” he shrugged, “I’ll be glad when he’s
back.”

“And is Harry prepared for the Weighing of the Wands?” Richard asked.

“As much as he can be.” Sirius smirked suddenly at the memory of Harry
realised that his wand was going to be examined close-up. “He’s taken a sudden
interest in polishing his wand and I don’t mean metaphorically or
euphemistically.”

Richard burst out laughing. He motioned towards the door. “We should be fine
to leave now.”

Sirius dismissed the privacy bubble and the two of them made their way down
the stairs and out into the corridors of the Ministry. They parted at the
stairwell; Sirius headed for Arthur’s office and Richard made his way home.

Arthur waved him in, his blue eyes shining a welcome. “Sirius! I hoped you’d
stop by.”

“I wanted to apologise again for abandoning our weekly dinners,” Sirius said,
sinking into the visitor’s chair, “but I don’t want to leave Harry alone.”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur assured him, “Molly and I understand. How’s it going?”

“I’m glad I’m there.” Sirius said simply. “I think I’d have gone mad if I
hadn’t managed to convince Albus to give us our own rooms and Harry had just
gone back and I’d had to support at a distance.”

Arthur frowned, his freckled face creasing with concern. “I thought the other
students were being supportive?”

“His friends, yes; the Potter alliance and Gryffindor, for the most part
although some are more vocal and visible than others; the rest of the school?”
Sirius sighed. ‘It’s a mixed bag because of the situation with Diggory.’ He
motioned with his hand. “It was easy in the heat of the moment on Halloween
for them to stand up and acknowledge that Harry hadn’t entered himself but to
continue to support him when he’s gone on record as saying he’ll try to win
when the school already has a Champion?”

“It is a bold strategy,” Arthur commented, “and given his history with facing
danger, I wasn’t surprised by it. But I know Molly was hoping that he’d walk
out and do the least he needed to do to pacify the contract with the Goblet.”

“It’s not really Harry’s style.” Sirius murmured, a twinge of guilt running
through him as he considered it wasn’t his style either and he hadn’t even
attempted to convince Harry that there was another way of participating in the
tournament. “Maybe I should have…”

“No,” Arthur cut in before Sirius could verbalise the thought, “you’re right
to support his decision, Sirius. Harry is… he has instincts about these types
of situations and if you’d done a Molly with him, he’d have walked out to do
the task and gone with his instincts anyway, but without probably a tenth of
the preparation he’s getting now.”

Whatever Sirius had been about to say remained unsaid as Percy barrelled into
the room. Arthur’s third son was clearly distraught and Sirius got to his
feet, intending to leave.

“I’ve resigned!” Percy declared, giving no sign that he had even registered
Sirius’s presence.

“Oh Percy!” Arthur said, glancing in Sirius’s direction.

Percy’s chin came up. “It’s pretty clear I’m going to be fired, and who can
blame them since I was stupid enough to almost get my own family killed! I
just didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of kicking me out.”

Sirius cleared his throat and finally Percy realised he was in the room. Percy
went bright red then white under hid freckles.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Sirius said diplomatically.

“Thank you, Sirius.” Arthur said. “Stay in touch and if you need anything, let
us know.”

“I will do.” Sirius promised and made his escape.

It wasn’t a surprise that Percy had resigned and Sirius thought it was
probably the right decision. The likelihood of Percy being fired was very high
since someone needed to take the blame for the breach of security that had
happened with Barty Junior and Percy was a handy scapegoat. It was a shame but
Percy hadn’t endeared himself to his colleagues over the previous months.
Sirius made a mental note to talk with Remus about it. It was possible that
Remus needed an assistant to help with his steward duties and Percy, for all
his faults, was a good worker.

Sirius had barely taken three steps away from Arthur’s door when Amos Diggory
appeared from a side office to stand in front of him, blocking his way.

“Black.” Amos snarled.

“Diggory.” Sirius returned evenly. Diggory had obviously waited for him. “I
don’t think we have anything to say to each other, do we?”

Amos’s face turned a strange purple colour and Sirius briefly worried Amos was
going to have a heart attack.

“Your solicitor may have threatened me, Black, but you’ll find it’s not that
easy to shut me up!”

Sirius hummed under his breath and reminded himself that punching Amos wasn’t
a good idea. A waft of the other man’s breath swept over him, and Sirius got
hit with the stench of whiskey. This was not good, Sirius mused.

“You were slandering my fourteen year old son, Diggory. You can hardly be
surprised that I stepped in. You would do the same if we were to make similar
comments about your son.” Sirius attempted to keep his voice calm.

“My boy isn’t an attention seeking glory hound!” Amos blustered.

“And neither is mine.” Sirius retorted, trying to keep his temper and
reminding himself that Amos was counting on that very outcome. “I’ll also
remind you that my son didn’t enter himself.”

“Right,” Amos said derisively, “he was entered by the oh-so-conveniently
resurrected Bartemius Crouch Junior.”

Oh, so that was his latest game.

Sirius smiled, and something must have registered with Amos that Sirius
smiling wasn’t a good thing because he took a step back.

“You don’t want to go there, Diggory.” Sirius said softly.

“Or what?” Amos bit out.

“Or you’ll find yourself contradicting an official Ministry and DMLE view,”
Amelia’s voice snapped, causing both men to turn to face her, “and the last
time I looked, Amos, you weren’t that stupid.”

Sirius could have kissed her. Amos flushed brightly and scuttled away.

“You are a lifesaver.” Sirius told Amelia as soon as Amos was out of earshot.

“I’m certain the life in question was Amos’s.” Amelia responded dryly.

“You’ll get no argument from me.” Sirius said candidly.

“Come on,” she jerked her head towards her office, “you can floo to Hogwarts
from mine and I’ll give you my take on how Harry won our duel last night.”

Sirius gave a grin and fell into step beside her.

o-O-o

*13**th* *November 1994*

Harry adjusted his robes, letting the fall of material straighten. He looked
at himself critically. His hair was as good as it was going to get, his
glasses gleaned showcasing his green eyes, and his outfit was smart — sharp
black trousers and a green silk shirt under his best black open robes with his
family crests proudly displayed. He was ready.

Panic stirred faintly in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away before it
could take hold.

He marched out of his room determinedly. Sirius looked up from reading the
paper and smiled at Harry as he picked up the pink rose Neville had dropped
off earlier that day.

“All sorted?” Sirius asked.

“I think so,” Harry replied, hating the note of uncertainty that crept into
his voice. He took a deep breath and nodded with more confidence. “Yes.
Ready.”

For a moment Harry thought Sirius was going to tease him as he often did when
the subject of girls was raised, but Sirius smiled again instead.

“I don’t think you’ll need it, but good luck.” Sirius said with a wink.

Harry smiled gratefully and threw on his invisibility cloak — he didn’t want
to be seen in transit with the rose. He left their quarters and made his way
through the school to the Runes classroom. It was empty and for a second Harry
wondered if he was going to be stood up, despite knowing that Hedwig had
delivered a positive reply to his request for a rendezvous that morning.
Before the thought could take root, the door opened and Hermione slid inside.

“Harry?” She called out softly.

He belatedly realised he was invisible and yanked the cloak off, throwing it
over his arm. Hermione smiled brightly at him and he smiled back at her.

“Hey,” Harry said warmly, “you look great.” And she did. Her hair had been
tamed again into soft curls that fell to her shoulders, and although she wore
her uniform it was pristine, the Gryffindor crest catching the sun coming
through the large windows. She looked very pretty.

“So do you.” Hermione said shyly. She gestured at his hand. “Is that for me?”

Harry walked over to her and held out the rose. “It is. It’s a token of… of,
well a small token of how much I like you.” He tried to ignore how hot his
cheeks were burning.

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione took the rose with a nervous smile, “I think it’s
the first time anyone has given me a flower.”

Harry took confidence from her pleased expression. “I know you know, and I
know you know I know, but I wanted to ask you properly.” He said a little
hesitantly. “So…” he took another deep breath. “I really, uh, like you and I
would really like it if you would agree to go on a real date with me?”

He was blushing again but so was Hermione and he held onto the delight in her
eyes as a good sign.

“I really like you too and I would really like to go on a real date with you
too.” Hermione agreed softly.

They grinned at each other for a long moment before Harry reached for her hand
and Hermione tangled their fingers together. The feel of her hand in his made
Harry breathless. He squeezed her fingers gently.

“We do, uh, need to talk about…” He began.

She nodded enthusiastically, sending her curls bouncing. “Our friendship is
the most important thing; I don’t want to ever lose that.” She said quickly.
‘And, of course, I don’t want us to make things awkward for Sirius as far as
the House of Black is concerned.’ She grimaced. “We need to make sure Ron
especially doesn’t feel left out too.”

“Exactly.” Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. “Sirius approves by the way.”

Hermione smiled at him, her eyes alight with laughter. “I thought he might.”

Harry smiled back because she was right; Sirius hadn’t been at all subtle over
the previous week.

“And so does Ron,” Harry continued, “but I agree; we should make sure he’s not
left out.”

“We will.” Hermione assured him. Her face turned considering. “We really need
him to wake up and realise Lavender is head over heels for him.”

“Maybe he will now we’re… we’re dating.” Harry said, hopefully. Delight sailed
through him as he caught Hermione’s flush at his words. He shifted position as
his conscience prodded him. “About the actual date…”

“We need to wait until after the first task.” Hermione said firmly. “You’ve
only got just over a week to prepare after today’s Wands ceremony and that has
to take priority.”

Harry stared at her. “You are just… thank you.” His fingers brushed the band
of red and gold on her wrist.

“Are you worried about it?” Hermione asked. “I’ve been trying to talk to you
all week but there’s always someone else around and… well, everyone else is
getting ready for the Weighing of the Wands and we’re alone so…”

He had chosen the time for them to meet up precisely for that reason.

“Yeah,” Harry answered her initial question without thinking about it; they’d
been friends too long for him to think twice about confiding in her — he
wanted to confide in her, ‘I guess I am worried about it.’ He pushed his
glasses up his nose with his free hand. “It is going to be dangerous and just
because I wanted to make Voldemort regret entering me by doing well doesn’t
mean that I think I’m actually going to do well. Although, I mean, maybe I
think I’m going to be OK with the first task? If it is something to do with
magical creatures like everyone thinks? Because I think I’m good with those
and the study plan is catching me up with theory and Moody was brilliant about
tutoring me in the spells you listed for me, but…” he sighed and met her warm
gaze, “I usually have you and Ron with me, you know? Whenever I’ve gone off to
do one of these insane things and… now it’s just me.”

“It was just you and Voldemort at the end of the traps, Harry,” Hermione
reminded him, “and just you with the basilisk.”

“You were there for Sirius though.” Harry reminded her.

“But you were the one who produced the patronus that saved us all from the
Dementors.” Hermione said quietly. “You’re… you’re brilliant at this type of
stuff. Do you remember what I said to you the first time? You’re a great
wizard, Harry.”

A flush of warmth rushed through and his gaze snagged on hers. It was a
perfect moment and his gaze dropped to her lips. His heart pounded a little
bit as he leaned in toward her and he could feel her shift, leaning towards
him…

The door to the classroom flew open and Harry immediately turned defensively,
letting go of Hermione as his wand was unleashed from its holster.

“Expelliarmus!” He yelled.

A blur of purple went sailing back through the doorway as a wand whipped
across the air between to land in Harry’s outstretched empty hand.

He and Hermione rushed to the door and took in the sight of their potential
attacker lying on the floor of the corridor with a stunned expression.

Harry blanched.

“Professor Dumbledore!” gasped Hermione as she hurried forward to help their
Headmaster, Harry following belatedly in her wake with the Professor’s wand in
his hand buzzing with power as his thumb drifted over the mark at the base.

“It’s alright, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore took her outstretched hand and
levered himself off the floor, ‘my robes have cushioning charms and no harm
was done.’ His rheumy eyes met Harry’s. “An impressive disarming spell,
Harry.”

“I am sorry, sir.” Harry said miserably. “It’s just…”

“No, no,” Dumbledore waved off the apology, ‘I understand you are in a state
of constant vigilance!’ His eyes twinkled as he brushed the dust off his
bright purple robes. “And quite right too! My own fault for believing two
students lurking in a classroom would have nefarious motivations. If I had
known it was you and Miss Granger I would have continued onto the Great Hall
for the Wand ceremony.” His eyes flickered to the pink rose Hermione held.

Both Harry and Hermione went bright red.

“Your wand, Professor.” Harry said hurriedly. He flipped the wand over and
offered it to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore paused and his keen gaze found Harry’s again, a question in the
depths.

And it was then Harry felt a whisper of something — a call that resonated deep
inside of him — the wand calling out to his blood — Peverell blood. He could
sense the power of the wand, the connection with the family magic that bubbled
up eagerly to encourage him to accept the wand that it had once made, and
there was an echo from the cloak left lying in the classroom of recognition
and welcome.

But it wasn’t the right time.

They had no idea still how the Hallows were supposed to work together and
Harry couldn’t take the risk of owning a wand that was so powerful when there
was the slightest chance Voldemort could get his hands on it.

Harry firmed his lips, ignored the whisper in his mind, and nodded briskly. He
had a perfectly serviceable wand and the Elder wand was safest with
Dumbledore.

“Thank you, Harry.” Dumbledore took his wand back and smiled somewhat sadly at
it.

The nudge of something faded and Harry shrugged the feeling away as though
trying to dislodge an itch.

Hermione threw Harry a curious look and he mouthed the word ‘later’ at her.

“Well, we should all be making our way to the Great Hall, I believe.”
Dumbledore said chirpily. “After all, you and I are participating in today’s
Ceremony, Harry.”

More’s the pity, Harry thought, before he nodded his agreement and gestured
back at the classroom. “I just have to pick up my cloak.”

“Ah, then I shall leave you and Miss Granger to make your own way while I
check that all is in order.” Dumbledore sighed. “We had not planned for this
to be in front of the whole school originally!”

He glided away and they watched him disappear around the corridor before
looking at each other nervously.

Harry started to chuckle at the memory of Dumbledore sailing through the air.
Hermione looked at him askance.

“It’s not funny, Harry. I can’t believe you disarmed Professor Dumbledore!”
She said, folding her arms over her chest.

“It’s a little funny.” Harry countered as he went back into the classroom and
picked up the silvery material he’d left on the floor. There was no time to
return it. “Dobby!”

Dobby popped in immediately. “You bes calling Dobby, Master Harry Potter,
sir?”

“We have to get to the Wand ceremony,” Harry explained, “can you take my cloak
back to my room for me, please?”

“And my rose back to my dorm, please?” Hermione asked quickly. She smiled at
Harry. “I don’t want it getting damaged.”

Dobby hopped happily taking both items. “Dobby will take care of all.” He
popped away again.

Harry held out his hand a little anxiously but Hermione simply rolled her eyes
and took it with another shy smile. He was giddy as they walked to the Great
Hall, discussing the history behind the ceremony that Hermione and her
researchers had uncovered. By the time they entered the wide doors, Harry was
reassured that it was a fairly straightforward examination of his wand without
the possibility of any spirits manifesting or strange things happening.

“Harry!” Rita swooped on them as soon as he and Hermione crossed the threshold
into the hall. Her eyes glittered behind her oversized specs, arrowing in on
their joined hands. “Is there something that you want to tell the readers of
the Daily Prophet?”

“Yes,” Sirius was suddenly beside Harry, his hand heavy on his shoulder, “he
wants to tell you that he can’t take part in conversations with the press
without his guardian present, Rita.”

Rita wasn’t phased by the rebuke. “Lord Black,” she said dryly, ‘what a
surprise to see you here.’ She motioned at the other Champions already
gathered up at the front of the hall. “I didn’t realise that the families of
the Champions were allowed to be present, or have they made a special
exception for you?”

Harry kept his face impassive knowing Sirius was more than capable of handling
the question with its nasty undertone.

“The other Champions are of age,” Sirius pointed out, “and therefore don’t
require an adult to safeguard their interests; Harry is still a minor and
therefore when appropriate will have a guardian present at official tournament
meetings.” He smiled sharply.

Rita gave a weak smile in response and made her way back to the other
journalists.

“Ready, Harry?” Sirius asked him quietly.

Harry grimaced but nodded. He felt Hermione squeeze his fingers before letting
go.

“It’ll be fine, Harry.” She promised and swiftly headed in the direction of
the Gryffindor table to where an avid Lavender and Parvati seemed to be
awaiting her, along with a smug looking Ron and Neville.

Harry was ushered forward by Sirius and he missed the dark looks of
consternation and understanding from his stalkers; the disappointment that had
Ginny lowering her head, hiding behind a fall of red hair. Instead, Harry fell
into line beside Viktor who acknowledged him with a grim smile; Fleur bowed
her golden head a touch, and Cedric did what Cedric had spent the previous
week doing; he ignored Harry.

Harry huffed out a breath and breathed in slowly, refusing to allow himself to
get frustrated in front of everyone.

“Ah, excellent!” Dumbledore spoke up loudly, silencing the Hall immediately.
‘Now that we are all gathered, we can begin!’ His gaze swept around the room
and the doors to the Great Hall banged shut as Hagrid closed them. “We had
initially intended this to be a quiet affair, but with recent developments it
was felt more appropriate to make this a public event for our three schools
and, of course, the illustrious members of the press.” He smiled benevolently
to the right where Rita, Luna’s father and Esmeralda Goose sat on a narrow
bench. “So, the Weighing of the Wands Ceremony dates back quite a number of
years and is where the Champions’ wands are examined to ensure fairness. I am
pleased to introduce Master Wand-maker Ollivander who will do the
examinations.”

The old wizard stepped forward and bowed to the politely applauding students.
“Thank you. If I could see Mister Krum’s wand first, please?”

Viktor stepped forward, resplendent in deep burgundy robes. He handed his wand
to Ollivander briskly.

“A Gregorovitch.” Ollivander lifted the wand examining it carefully. ‘Hornbeam
and… dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches, thicker than I would have
made it. Good condition, I see.’ He made a jabbing motion and a flock of birds
erupted from the end of the wand and out of an open window. “Good, good. A
fine wand, Mister Krum, and one most appropriate for a man with a penchant for
the air.”

The wand was handed back and Krum moved to the other side of Ollivander.

“Miss Delacour?” Ollivander waved her forward and took her proffered wand with
a gallant bow. ‘Oh what a lovely wand!’ He carefully lifted it to the light
and made a gleeful sound under his breath. “Well, well. A Limone creation with
rosewood and a Veela hair?”

“My Grandmother.” Fleur confirmed, her accent heavy.

“Rather inflexible but…” Ollivander made the same jabbing motion as he had
with Krum’s and a shower of dragonflies emerged, flying over the crowd before
disappearing. ‘Fire and air!’ He said delightedly. “How remarkable but
definitely appropriate for one of your beauty, young lady.”

Fleur took her wand back with a pleased smile lifting her rosebud lips.

Harry tried not to fidget as Ollivander called for Cedric.

“Now this I recognise! My own creation!” Ollivander beamed at Cedric who
beamed back. ‘Ash and the tail hair of a unicorn stallion. I remember it
well!’ He gave Cedric an approving glance. “You’ve taken excellent care of it,
Mister Diggory.”

Cedric continued beaming.

Ollivander made the jabbing motion for the third time and a single dove flew
from the wand disappearing into the rafters of the Great Hall. “Ah, earth and
air; a bird suggesting a pure heart and a desire for peace.” His shrewd eyes
met Cedric’s. “You would be wise to listen to its message.”

Two slashes of red appeared across Cedric’s cheeks and he swiftly took back
the wand to make his way to the other Champions.

“Mister Potter.”

Harry tried to ignore the churn of nerves that had settled heavily in his
stomach. He tried to ignore the fact that everyone was looking at him and
handed his wand over.

“Oh my,” Ollivander said, ‘I remember this wand very well.’ His intent look
fell upon Harry. “Holly and a phoenix feather. It has seen battle since we
last met, Mister Potter.”

It was all he could do to nod.

“I did say that you could accomplish great things with this wand.” Ollivander
said quietly. “And so you have.”

Harry couldn’t quite manage a smile.

Ollivander frowned and he peered at the wand, darted a glance at Harry, and
then one in the direction of Dumbledore. “Remarkable.” He murmured before he
jabbed the wand in a now familiar motion.

Fire shot out of the tip, forming a large blazing image of a phoenix in flight
almost the height of the Great Hall. Harry’s mouth fell open and he could hear
gasps and shouts from the students and teachers. And as suddenly as it had
appeared, the image disappeared leaving nothing but a trail of smoke.

“Fire and air symbolising rebirth, rising from the ashes.” Ollivander blinked
as he handed Harry his wand back. “You are a truly impressive wizard, Mister
Potter. Great things indeed.”

“Thank you?” Harry muttered uncertainly and quickly stepped over to the
others.

“Are my fellow judges satisfied that the wands have been examined and cleared
for use?” Dumbledore asked loudly before the quiet mutterings in the Hall
could become actual babble.

Madame Maxime nodded with a large smile, Karkaroff gave a dismissive wave, and
Ludo Bagman grinned broadly towards the press as he gave a thumbs-up gesture.

“Then the ceremony is over!” Dumbledore clapped his hands and dismissed the
gathered students.

Harry searched out Hermione and they exchanged a quick smile before she left,
flanked by Ron and Neville. Unfortunately Harry had to suffer through Bagman’s
insistence on a posed photo of all of the Champions before he finally got to
leave with Sirius.

“So,” Sirius sketched a privacy bubble as they walked to the tower, “I’m sure
I don’t really need to ask since you were holding hands with her and all but…
how did it go?”

Harry smiled and knew he probably had a fairly sappy expression on his face
but he didn’t care. “She said yes!”

Sirius grinned at him. “Way to go, Harry!”

“And she understands about the date being delayed until after the first task.”
Harry added. “She was great about everything.”

“I’m pleased for you, Harry.” Sirius said warmly, slinging an arm around his
shoulder.

“There was kind of a thing with Professor Dumbledore?” Harry hurried out the
explanation of what had happened and by the end of it they were in their
quarters and Sirius was howling with laughter.

It was good to see Sirius laughing for once. He hadn’t done that enough
recently, Harry mused, feeling guilty even though he knew it wasn’t really his
fault.

A knock had them both turning for the door. Sirius waved Harry back and went
to answer it. Minerva and Ollivander were on the other side.

“My apologies, Sirius,” Minerva said, “but Mister Ollivander was insistent on
speaking with you and Mister Potter.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he could see Sirius morphing into his Lord Black
persona as he considered the request and agreed to it, inviting Minerva and
Ollivander into the room with an offer of refreshments.

Five minutes later, they were drinking tea, compliments of Dobby, and
Ollivander’s discreet suggestion of privacy had been dismissed with Sirius’s
confirmation that “Minnie had their complete confidence” to allow Minerva to
stay.

Ollivander set his cup down. “You’ll have to forgive me if I come directly to
the point.”

“Directness would be appreciated.” Sirius countered, his expression guarded.

Harry found himself the object of Ollivander’s unsettling stare once more.

“Mister Potter,” Ollivander began, “am I right in assuming that you recently
came into possession of the Headmaster’s wand?”

Harry glanced at Minerva before he nodded. “I, um, accidentally disarmed him
earlier today when he surprised me.”

Minerva rolled her eyes, an exasperated breath escaping her, but she didn’t
rebuke him and Harry relaxed a touch.

“Hmmm,” Ollivander’s eyes sparkled briefly with amusement before sobering
again, “do you remember that I once told you that the wand chooses the wizard,
Mister Potter?”

Harry nodded, a sinking feeling in his gut at where the discussion was headed.

“The Headmaster’s wand chose you when you proved your worth and disarmed him.”
Ollivander continued.

Sirius tensed beside him.

“I doubt that you could have failed to notice since the wand in question is
powerful enough to make its choice known.” Ollivander said quietly. “Yet
somehow the wand remains with the Headmaster and you are facing a difficult
tournament with a greatly inferior wand.”

Harry bristled on behalf of his perfectly fine holly and phoenix wand.

“Wands don’t change their allegiance that way.” Minerva spoke up sharply.

“Ordinarily, no,” Ollivander said with a slow smile, “but the Elder wand is no
ordinary wand.”

Everyone froze and Harry knew his own thoughts of should they deny it, should
they admit they knew, were running through Sirius’s head.

Sirius met Harry’s eyes briefly before he sighed and acknowledged Ollivander’s
words with a tilt of his head.

Ollivander blinked. “You are all aware of the significance of the Headmaster’s
wand?”

“We are.” Sirius replied.

The wand-maker looked shaken. “Then, you gave it back to the Headmaster
knowing of its power?”

Harry shot a questioning look at Sirius for permission before he nodded. “The
wand is safest with the Headmaster.”

“Remarkable.” Ollivander said, staring at Harry. “It was remarkable when I
thought you had given up the wand without knowing but to give it up when you
do know… even more remarkable. I assume you felt its pull?”

Harry settled for another nod, unwilling to explain the exact nature of the
pull that he’d felt. There was a niggling feeling that he only had to focus
and he would feel it again, its seductive whisper across his heart.

“I’m not sure I understand how the allegiance thing works,” Harry admitted,
vaguely remembering that Ollivander had said something in the memory he’d
watched from Sirius’s grandfather.

Ollivander smiled slightly patronisingly. “Wands choose the wizard because the
magical element within them resonates with the wizard’s own magical energy,
the wood acting as a grounding force to allow the transference back and forth.
Family members usually have similar energy so it’s not unusual for children to
be able to use their parents’ wands or some other relative’s. Generally, it’s
unusual for an opponent and non-relative in a duel situation to be a better
magical match for a wand to change its allegiance. It has happened but
rarely.”

And OK, Harry thought he got that.

“But the Elder wand doesn’t work that way.” Sirius stated.

“It is an unique wand without a core magical element, but a powerful wand that
understands power.” Ollivander expanded, with a gesture meant to convey the
more the better. “And so, if it feels one wizard has more than another, say
because it was taken in a disarming spell, it sides with that wizard and will
not work for the one who holds it if he tries to use it against the wand’s
chosen master. It is said to be the reason why it always ends up with the
victor of the duels it has participated in.”

“So it has no true allegiance?” Minerva questioned, a worried frown creasing
her forehead.

“In some tales of the wand, that is the theory. However, one origin story says
the wand has no allegiance except to the blood that runs through it.”
Ollivander’s gaze slid to Harry. “The blood of the Peverells — your
bloodline.”

Which would explain the pull Harry had felt.

“Now that it’s found you, Mister Potter, I rather suspect the wand won’t give
its allegiance to anyone else.” Ollivander finished.

So presumably it wouldn’t give its allegiance to Voldemort, Harry mused; that
was good news.

“But there’s not really an issue with the Headmaster continuing to have the
wand, is there?” Minerva asked anxiously.

“Oh, I dare say it will continue to work for the Headmaster if not as well as
it has done, as well as his previous wand.” Ollivander said brightly. ‘He is a
powerful wizard in his own right.’ His gaze moved back to Harry. “If you feel
the wand is safer with him and wish to use another, well, that is a remarkable
choice and perhaps only one who has Peverell blood could make — to refuse the
power the wand offers you. But I would caution you that you may need the wand,
especially in these dangerous times.”

Ollivander held up a hand before anyone could say anything.

“I see the signs and I know the one who wields the brother wand to your own
rises again.” He gestured. “I suspect he is behind your tournament entry.”

Harry looked helplessly at Sirius.

“If Harry is to face Voldemort,” Sirius began, “which believe me will only be
happening over my dead body, but ignoring that, you truly believe Harry using
the Elder wand is worth the risk of it falling into Voldemort’s hand?”

“I understand the concern, but regardless that I rather think that the Elder
wand wielded by a Peverell would be practically invincible,” Ollivander
replied smartly, “there is the pressing concern that Harry’s own wand would be
useless against its brother wand.”

Sirius stiffened. “Explain.”

“When two wands containing magical elements of the same creature are set in
opposition, there is a battle for dominance that takes place between the
wands.” Ollivander said swiftly. “The wands are locked until the stronger
overcomes the weaker. At that moment, priori incancatem occurs with the
defeated wand spilling out its secrets. A normal duel is out of the question.”

“I can’t use my wand in a duel with Voldemort?” Harry checked, a sinking
feeling in his stomach because he liked his wand — he loved his wand — he
didn’t want to have to use a different wand if he was fighting Voldemort.

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t do much except…” Ollivander spread his hands in lieu
of repeating himself.

“Great.” Harry muttered.

Sirius reached over and clasped his shoulder briefly. “At least thanks to
Mister Ollivander we know now.” He turned to the wand-maker. “Thank you.”

Ollivander waved away the gratitude. “There is one tale that if you truly need
it, the Elder wand would come to its rightful master by calling it with a
simple thought.” He smiled. “If the Elder wand ever does come into your
possession, Mister Potter, I would appreciate the opportunity to examine it.”

Sirius and Minerva hustled Ollivander away in some gracious manner that didn’t
make it look like they were hustling him away, leaving Harry contemplating the
information Ollivander had imparted.

“We can get you another wand.” Sirius’s voice wrenched Harry from the tumbling
single thought of ‘what now?’

“I like my wand.” Harry sighed and flopped back against the sofa.

“There’s always the Elder wand.” Sirius said, sitting down beside him. “And
frankly we always thought you might have to use it since its one of the three
Hallows and if they are the power he knows not…”

“Yeah.” Harry murmured. “It’s just… every time something goes right, something
else seems to go wrong.”

Sirius patted his shoulder, understandingly. “My advice is to focus on the
positive.”

Hermione.

Harry started smiling as he remembered their conversation; how she’d said she
liked him; her absolute confidence in him.

“And there we go.” Sirius said amused. ‘I recall your Dad had the exact same
sappy expression.’ He got up. “Well, my work here is done. I’m going to call
Remus and update him on the ceremony and everything.”

Harry pushed himself out of the sofa and made for his room. He had some
reading to do on magical creatures and then… and then he had a date to plan.

Ensuring Pronglet Survives: Chapter 5
=====================================

*15**th* *November 1994*

It was rare for Hermione to miscalculate, but when Dobby popped in beside her
and prevented her from touching the avalanche of mail just delivered to her by
a flock of owls, she was prepared to admit that perhaps she had grossly
underestimated the public interest in her relationship with Harry.

“You don’t need to help, Dobby,” Hermione said briskly, “I’ll be fine.” She
ignored the doubt that crept into the back of her mind as she surveyed the
stack of mail.

“Lord Black is ordering Dobby to be reviewing Master Harry Potter’s Grangy’s
mail.” Dobby replied with a firmness that took her aback.

Hermione conceded. Sirius was her magical guardian and if he really thought it
was best…

Neville breathed a sigh of relief as the elf popped away with the mail. “Thank
Merlin. He’ll make sure it’s safe and get the mail that you’ll want to read to
you.”

She bit her lip. She hadn’t considered that there was danger in the mail, but
then she should have done considering some of the dark looks she had received
since she and Harry had turned up to the wand ceremony holding hands. Some of
those looks had turned even darker between the newspaper articles the day
before outright declaring Hermione’s status as Harry’s first girlfriend and
Harry quite happily walking to all their classes holding Hermione’s hand.

A blush rose as she remembered her own delight in holding Harry’s hand, but
more, what it truly meant about how Harry felt about her.

“Merlin!” Ron muttered. “You’re thinking about Harry again, aren’t you? You
get the same dippy look on your face every time.”

Hermione turned to glare at him. “I do not have a dippy look!”

Ron pointed his knife at her. “Yes, you do.” He grimaced. “Harry’s just the
same.”

She pushed down the urge to argue, reminding herself that the change in the
trio’s dynamic was hardest on Ron and that she and Harry had promised to make
it easy for him. Her eyes slid to Lavender who was staring across at Ron with
her own dippy look. What they needed was some way of getting Ron together with
Lavender, Hermione determined. That way Ron wouldn’t feel left out.

“We should make a move or we’ll be late for Potions.” Hermione said out loud,
not revealing her other motive for moving — her want to see Harry.

Ron grumbled but he pushed the last of the toast in his mouth, brushed the
crumbs from the front of his school robes and gathered his bag.

It seemed to be a signal for the rest of the fourth year Gryffindors; every
single one of them abandoned the breakfast table at the same time, falling
into a loose huddle of students as they made their way out of the Great Hall.

Hermione’s face lit up as she spotted Harry coming down the main staircase. He
walked over and took her hand without any hint of self-consciousness, instead
aiming a smile at Ron and Neville as he greeted them.

“Sirius said he’s put a mail redirect on you for anyone but the House of Black
and your parents,” Harry said, shifting his satchel with his free hand, “and
that if something does get through, you should call for Dobby to take care of
it.”

Hermione sighed. “A mail redirect? Does he really think it’s necessary?”

Harry shrugged. “I have one.”

Which meant yes.

“I didn’t think people would be that interested.” Hermione commented. “I guess
I should have realised that our dating would get some publicity.”

“Some?!” snorted Ron, drawing both of their attention. “The paper was full of
‘The Boy Who Lived Finds First Love’ yesterday. It was sickening.”

“Skeeter.” Harry muttered darkly.

“It wasn’t just her,” Neville reminded him, “that Goose woman had a paragraph
about you and Hermione in her article too.”

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. “At least Luna’s Dad focused on the
tournament and the wand ceremony.”

“Hmmm,” Hermione said, remembering the article with a frown, “I’m not certain
that I entirely agree with him about the symbolism and origins of the
creatures that appeared from the wands during the tests.”

“A load of old nonsense if you ask me.” Ron agreed as they took the corridor
into the dungeons. “Mind you, mate, that flaming phoenix thing was very
impressive.”

“It was the most powerful symbol of all of the Champions.” Neville cheerfully
chimed in.

“I liked the dragonflies.” Lavender said behind them. “They were very pretty
not like those birds from Viktor Krum’s wand.”

“They were hawks!” Ron said defensively. ‘They were brilliant.’ He motioned
toward Harry. “I mean, not as brilliant as Harry’s but pretty decent.”

“There’s a debate about whether the birds that appeared from Viktor’s wand
were hawks or sparrows.” Dean commented loudly.

Ron bristled. “They were hawks.”

Hermione shot him an amused look. “Does it matter?”

“Hawks are better than sparrows.” Ron retorted.

“Symbolically that’s true.” Lavender said supportively.

“Thank you!” Ron declared.

Lavender blushed and Hermione resolved again to do something even if the
thought of playing match-maker horrified her.

They all automatically slowed as they neared the Potions lab and its locked
door, shifting seamlessly into a line of waiting students.

Hermione did a tempus charm and frowned. “We’re early.”

“You’re the one who hustled us out of breakfast.” Ron reminded her, shuffling
beside Harry. “I didn’t even get a chance to read *my* letter from Charlie.”

“Well, everyone was staring.” Hermione admitted awkwardly.

She wasn’t surprised when Harry squeezed her hand and gave a sympathetic
grimace. He understood how disconcerting it was to be the focus of the whole
school.

“It’ll blow over.” Neville predicted. “The first task is next week. Everyone
will focus on that then.”

“Nev’s right,” Ron said supportively by way of an apology, “you’ll be old news
in no time.”

“Good grief,” Draco’s drawl travelled down the length of the corridor as the
Slytherins stalked up from the dungeon end, “who knew Gryffindors could be
this eager for Potions?”

“Morning, Draco.” Harry said calmly. Hermione followed Harry and nodded a
greeting at Theo as he came to stand beside Draco. The two were strangely
becoming a bit of a double act although Draco’s old cohorts of Crabbe and
Goyle still tagged along like lost puppies.

“Mother said she’d see me at dinner on Friday?” Draco adjusted the cuff of his
robes and Hermione marvelled at the flash of red and gold. A lot of the
Slytherins wore Cedric’s although some wore both.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “Sirius is reinstituting the family dinners. Andy and Ted
will be there too.”

Hermione noticed the flash of discomfort that rippled through most of the
waiting Slytherins and hid a smile.

Pansy suddenly appeared, pushing past Crabbe and Goyle in an attempt to wiggle
into place beside Draco. “Am I late?” She said breathlessly.

“No,” Draco sneered, “something you should have realised since we’re all still
stood outside of the lab, Parkinson.”

The evident dislike didn’t seem to phase Pansy who wrinkled her small upturned
nose and shot a malevolent look in Hermione’s direction. Hermione stiffened
automatically in response.

“Rita Skeeter was interviewing me.” Pansy gloated. “She wanted to know all
about Granger.”

All chatter in the corridor stopped abruptly.

Hermione tightened her grip on Harry as he drew away from the wall, his anger
blazing out of his eyes, and gave a small shake of her head to try and prevent
him from doing anything rash. He stopped as Draco shifted.

“Are you really that stupid?” Draco bit out.

Pansy tore her gaze away from Harry and looked wide-eyed at Draco’s annoyed
pointed features.

Hermione breathed an inward sigh of relief as Harry relaxed a touch seeing
that Draco would deal with it.

“Draco…” Pansy gathered up the remnants of her courage and self-delusion and
carried on. “You can’t deny that you’ll enjoy seeing the truth about Granger
in tomorrow’s paper!”

“I can deny it since your truth probably involves insulting Granger who is a
member of the House of Black *as am I*.” Draco snarled.

“Well, at least we know who to point Lord Black at when he reads all about an
unnamed source at Hogwarts.” Theo slipped in slyly.

Pansy paled but she remained defiant. “I stand by what I said.”

“Then you won’t mind coming with me this lunchtime to meet with Lord Black and
inform him of your indiscretion in relation to his ward, Miss Parkinson.”
Snape’s smooth tone had them all jumping as they took in his looming presence.

How he had sneaked up on them all was a mystery but Hermione was pleased to
see him despite the pounding of her heart at his surprise entry. His words
sank in and she exchanged an incredulous look with Harry and Ron who both
looked as shocked as she felt at Snape’s rebuke of Pansy, a Slytherin.

“Professor Snape!” Pansy squeaked out. “Sir, I don’t think…”

“That much is apparent, Miss Parkinson,” Snape sneered fiercely, “and it is
entirely unacceptable in a Slytherin. The punishment will stand.” His dark
eyes roamed over the corridor and landed on Harry’s hand holding Hermione’s.

Hermione shifted nervously for some kind of derisive comment but Snape turned,
unlocked the Potions lab with a wave of his wand, and stormed inside the room.
The waiting students all hurried in after him and Harry let go of her hand as
they took their usual places.

Hermione regretted the loss but she focused her mind on the potion and bundled
her worries and delight about her relationship with Harry to the back of her
mind.

Time moved slowly in the tense Potions lab with only the occasional sound of a
beaker clinking against a cauldron or the grinding of ingredients. Snape
stared impassively at the students from the front of the lab.

Hermione stirred her mixture clockwise three times and was satisfied when it
turned a vibrant blue. It was almost ready for the pickled newts eyes and
then…

Pansy screamed.

Hermione’s head whipped round to look at the Slytherin girl’s bench and went
wide with horror at the pink bubbling cloud that streamed out of the cauldron
and engulfed Pansy. If it came near to anyone else…

“Arrestus!” Harry snapped out.

The cauldron and pink cloud stopped as though someone had hit a pause button
on a TV show. It was a potions time spell that the tutor they’d had in the
Summer had taught them, Hermione realised absently as she breathed out in
relief. Usually it was used to hold the potion at a perfect moment if there
was a delay in getting an ingredient but it worked just as well as a stop-gap
emergency measure.

Milicent, who had taken a large step back from her own cauldron, looked up at
Harry, stunned. “Where’s… where’s your wand, Potter?”

A bright red Harry lowered his empty hand.

“Eyes back on your own potions!” Snape snapped, swooping over to banish the
cauldron and dispel the cloud which released an unconscious Pansy in a thump
to the floor. “Bulstrode, take Parkinson to the infirmary!”

Milicent’s eyes flickered to Draco in front of her but he paid her no
attention.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she tuned out Snape’s verbal disembowelling of
Dean over his knife work. She could well believe that Draco was responsible.
He’d thrown stuff into Harry’s and Neville’s cauldrons enough times for her to
know he was capable of it. It was unlikely he’d done it as revenge for Pansy
prattling to Skeeter though. Hermione figured he’d done it more out of his own
irritation with his former sycophant.

She carefully added the pickled newt eyes, stirred five times anti-clockwise
and sniffed at the smell of apples wafting up from the potion as it shifted
from vibrant blue to green.

“Your time is up!” Snape stated brusquely. “Bottle your potions and submit
them for marking!”

Hermione quickly ladled her potion into a vial already neatly labelled. She
stoppered it and placed it carefully on Snape’s bench, sneaking a look at
Harry’s potion (a slightly paler green than hers which meant he’d added just a
tad too little of the newt eyes) and Ron’s (a dark blue which meant he had
been too slow at getting the newt eyes in and possibly had stirred too much
before he’d added them).

The clean-up was perfunctory and within moments the Gryffindor and Slytherin
fourth years were spilling out into the corridor and on their way to Runes.
Hermione reached for Harry’s hand again and they exchanged pleased glances.

She would, Hermione thought wistfully, be very open to doing more than holding
hands. Her mind drifted back to The Moment (as she had labelled it in her own
head) in the classroom when she had thought he was going to kiss her, when she
had wanted him to kiss her and… and instead they’d been interrupted by the
Headmaster. She tried not to blush again.

There really hadn’t been an opportunity to kiss since.

Both she and Harry had spent the previous day surrounded by other people,
namely Ron, and there had been no privacy to sneak a kiss. And Hermione hadn’t
wanted to sneak a kiss. She wanted her first kiss with anyone, let alone
Harry, to be special. She thought Harry felt the same and that was why he
hadn’t pressed her or tried to get her alone beyond wanting to keep his
promise to Ron to make things easy for him. She hoped he wanted to kiss her as
much as she wanted to kiss him.

Runes was always enjoyable. The fourth years had tucked into the back in their
own small group from the fifth years. Hermione took her usual seat by Daphne
as Harry slid in beside Anthony.

“And Rita thought you’re both joined at the hip.” Daphne’s amused whisper had
Hermione smiling as they settled into the work.

The four of them chatted about their latest Runes assignment all the way to
lunch where Hermione had to stop holding hands with Harry in order to eat but
she took solace in the fact that Harry was actually at the meal. She
understood Sirius’s dictate that Harry have breakfast and dinner in their
rooms but she missed him and his conversation. Neville and Ron slid into seats
beside them with a thump.

“I tell you Trelawney gets more mental every lesson.” Ron complained, reaching
for the platter of battered fish.

Hermione gave him a disapproving frown for not choosing the healthier options.
“What was she predicting now?”

“Probably my death still.” Harry muttered beside her. He pushed a chip through
a puddle of ketchup.

“No, she went dizzy over some incense thing she lit and started babbling
about…” Ron paused in scooping another mountain of chips onto his plate. “What
was she babbling about?”

Neville swallowed the forkful of shepherd’s pie he’d picked up. “Something to
do with bugs?”

“She’s completely buggy if you ask me.” Ron dived into his food with gusto.

Neville nodded. “She was very loopy today.”

“I don’t know how you stand that subject.” Hermione admitted. “Mind you, Luna
is very complimentary about Firenze.”

“Centaurs are renowned for their divination prowess.” Neville agreed. “I wish
he was teaching us.”

“Hmnfph.” Ron waved his fork expressively.

They all stared at him.

He swallowed. “Me too.”

“Where are Lavender and Parvati?” asked Hermione. The two girls loved
Trelawney. She didn’t think Lavender’s crush on Ron would have prevented her
from defending her favourite teacher.

“They stayed back to comfort Trelawney.” Neville explained. He nudged Harry.
“What are you doing this afternoon while we’re in Charms?”

Harry grinned at him. “I’m going over to Hagrid’s. He’s giving me a special
tutorial on magical creatures.”

“Well, if you survive that, the first task will be a breeze.” Neville said
with an answering grin.

“Luckily he can’t give you a practical in some of the more dangerous
creatures.” Hermione said with relief because as much as she loved Hagrid,
Merlin knew he had a complete lack of clarity about the danger some of the
creatures posed.

Harry waved a chip at her in agreement.

“What are you doing in Charms tonight with Professor Flitwick?” Hermione
changed the subject, partially because she wanted Harry to have a lunch
without talking about the tournament and partially because she was dying to
know what his individual lessons were like.

“Advanced Summoning Charms.” Harry said with a shrug. “We covered the basic
theory with the power versus magical will essay, remember? And in the Summer I
managed the basic charm which you guys are doing soon, so he thinks I’ll
understand enough to be able to do the practical.”

“I wish we were doing advanced summoning charms.” Hermione mused wistfully.

“We don’t have enough power though for the more serious ones, do we?” Neville
argued. “I mean, according to the theories that we had to read for that
essay?”

“Exactly.” Hermione nodded. “Our magical power isn’t mature enough. Harry’s an
exception.”

“That’s me.” Harry muttered. “Although the theory is that my power is still
maturing.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Neville said, “but that’s quite scary.”

Hermione was about to say something reassuring when Ron groaned dramatically.

“This is a load of bollocks!” Ron said loudly.

The three of them turned to look at him.

He waved a stained piece of parchment at them. “Charlie’s letter. It’s
complete bollocks. He goes on about how he’s back in the country to work but
can’t say on what because it’s all very secret and he’ll see me on the
twenty-fourth although he seems more worried about telling *Harry*.” He
slapped the letter down on the table and stared at Harry suddenly pale. “You
don’t think… maybe, maybe *Charlie* has a crush on you?”

Harry’s eyes widened with alarm.

A suspicion gathered in Hermione’s head and she grabbed the letter, sketching
a privacy bubble around the four of them.

“Oy!” Ron spluttered.

“Ron,” Hermione read out loud, “just wanted to tell you and Harry — Harry is
underlined — that I was back for a while for work — work is also underlined.
Can’t say much more about it because of all the secrecy around this particular
event but suffice to say I’ll see you on the twenty-fourth. Don’t forget to
tell Harry. Charlie.”

Harry’s fork clanged as he dropped it on his plate and Hermione knew that he’d
reached the same conclusion she had.

“Oh Merlin!” Ron lowered his head into his hands. “He does have a crush on
Harry! As if it isn’t bad enough Ginny being nuts about him!”

Neville choked on his shepherd’s pie.

Hermione lowered the letter and looked at Ron pityingly. “Charlie doesn’t have
a crush on Harry.”

“Hermione, I know Harry’s your boyfriend now and you don’t want to think it,
but you can’t deny that it looks bad.” Ron said, raising his head to look at
her.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and waved the letter at him. “He’s trying to
tell us something, you idiot!”

“What?” demanded Ron crossly, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at
her.

“Dragons.” Harry managed to get the word out past pale lips and Hermione
couldn’t blame him; it was utterly horrifying. “He’s trying to tell us he’ll
be here for work on the twenty-fourth for the first task. It’s dragons.”

“Blimey.” Ron said, going white under his freckles.

Neville pushed away the remainder of his lunch. “They wouldn’t seriously think
about using dragons, would they?”

“They’ve been used before.” Hermione said with a lump in her throat, sliding
her hand towards Harry.

Harry tangled their fingers together on top of the table.

“Are you sure he just doesn’t have a crush on Harry?” Ron asked pleadingly.

“I guess I know what Hagrid should test me on this afternoon then.” Harry
said, ignoring Ron.

Hermione frowned, because — yes, it was good in one way to *know* but if they
*knew* then… “Isn’t this cheating?”

“It’s not exactly against the rules.” Harry said defensively. ‘The teachers
and Headmasters can’t *tell* the Champions the specifics of the tasks, but
there’s nothing that explicitly states that someone neutral can’t find out and
inform the Champions.’ He sighed. “I think Viktor knows?”

“You do?”

“He does?”

Ron and Neville spoke at the same time.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Actually, I think he was trying to give me the
hint in our last Quidditch practice. He asked me if I’d ever seen a dragon
before.” He pulled a face that clearly said ‘I’m an idiot.’ “I thought he’d
heard a rumour about that whole thing with Norbert so told him the story.”

“I might have known Karkaroff would find a way around the rules.” Ron snorted
in disgust.

“It’s not fair on Fleur or Cedric though, is it?” Hermione pointed out.

“That depends on how you view the competition.” Neville said, recovering his
appetite enough to reach for a slice of apple pie since the desserts had
appeared. “You could take the view that information is intelligence, and an
advantage.”

Harry hummed. “I want a fair competition though and while I know Charlie
dropping a big enough hint in a letter to Ron for me to get it isn’t cheating
per se…”

“It still feels like you got the information unfairly.” Neville poured enough
custard into his bowl to drown the pie.

“Maybe that’s why Viktor tried to tell me too.” Harry mused, untangling their
hands as he helped himself to treacle tart. “Maybe he thought it wasn’t
entirely fair the way *he* found out and tried to tell the other Champions.”

Hermione eschewed the desserts and picked up a bunch of grapes to snack on.
“So what do you want to do?”

Harry sighed and swallowed some tart. “I think I’m going to talk to Viktor and
see if he’s actually told Fleur and Cedric already. If he has then… well, I
don’t need to do anything. But if he hasn’t…” his lips firmed, “I’ll tell
them.”

“I’m not sure Diggory will believe you.” Ron said baldly, tucking into an
enormous slice of cake.

“It doesn’t matter if he does or he doesn’t,” Harry replied, “I’ll know I did
the right thing and tried to tell him.”

Neville motioned with his spoon in agreement.

Hermione beamed her own approval at Harry. “So, I’ll pull together everything
about dragons and we’ll go over it tonight after your lesson with Professor
Flitwick?”

Harry agreed and changed the subject to Neville’s on-going relationship with
Hannah. Hermione couldn’t blame him.

Dragons.

Who had thought that was a good idea, Hermione thought worriedly. Had they
been part of the task before Voldemort had been given the chance to change the
parameters or had he added them?

It was a thought that stayed with her after Harry had escorted her to Charms
before leaving for his own lesson with Hagrid. It distracted her all through
the lesson and it was a relief when the session ended. She had Arithmancy to
get to and she waved a goodbye to Ron and Neville outside the classroom before
heading in the opposite direction.

She’d barely got to the bottom of the staircase she needed when she heard the
shout of a spell above her. She ducked but not quick enough and the spell
caught her full in the face sending her sprawling backwards.

“Granger!” Daphne hurried over to her and helped her sit up as a small crowd
gathered around.

“Did you see who did it?” Lisa Turpin asked.

“It came from above.” Somebody else murmured. “I saw the spell light come down
the stairs.”

Hermione shook her head and went to answer but a strange sensation stopped
her. Her hand flew to her mouth where her front teeth were growing rapidly
like she was some kind of demented chipmunk. She looked at Daphne with horror.

“Infirmary.” Daphne said briskly. “Come on.” She pulled Hermione to her feet
and supported her as her teeth continued to grow. She all but hustled Hermione
into the ward and yelled for the nurse.

Hermione barely took in the sight of Pansy still out cold in one of the
infirmary beds as Madame Pomfrey appeared from her office and pointed her wand
straight at Hermione. Her teeth stopped growing and Hermione breathed out a
small sigh of relief.

“Nasty spell that.” Madame Pomfrey said. ‘But we’ll have you fixed in a
jiffy.’ She handed Hermione a mirror. “Just wave when you want me to stop.”

Hermione saw her front teeth receding and she felt her chest seize at the
realisation that she could fix her teeth. Ever since she’d grown her front
teeth she’d always thought they were slightly over large despite her parents’
assurance that they were fine. They weren’t fine and Hermione couldn’t resist
the temptation to let Pomfrey continue a moment longer than she needed to,
ensuring her teeth looked perfect.

“Good, good.” Pomfrey did another diagnostic spell. “You’ve had a bit of a
shock so you’re excused from lessons for the rest of the day. Go back to your
dorm and rest. I’ll inform Professor McGonagall.” She looked at Daphne
suspiciously.

“Daphne wasn’t responsible,” Hermione said quickly, “she helped me.”

“Ten points to Slytherin then.” Madame Pomfrey said with a sniff. “Off you
both go.”

“Thank you.” Hermione said to Daphne as they got out of the infirmary, but
frowned when she fell into step beside her. “You don’t have to walk me to the
tower, you’re going to be late for Arithmancy as it is.”

Daphne made a dismissive clucking sound. “Potter would have my head if you
weren’t escorted after being attacked.”

“Oh Lord.” Hermione murmured with dismay. Harry was going to go nuts and… and
would he reconsider them going out? She hoped not. She really hoped not. Maybe
she’d have to convince him she was fine being a target; that she’d known she’d
be a target agreeing to go out with him. And there was no harm done — in fact
her teeth looked better than ever.

They were barely half way there when Ron and Neville barrelled around the
corner and almost ran into them.

“Hermione!” Ron threw himself at her and hugged her.

“Oomph!” Hermione patted his back awkwardly. “I’m fine, Ron.”

Ron swiftly shifted back and nodded. “What happened? Katie Bell said you’d
been attacked on the stairs and…”

“Teeth growing spell.” Daphne interrupted him sharply. “Malicious and nasty
but not dangerous. Pomfrey said she’s to rest up.”

Neville nodded at her. “You should get to class. We’ll take her from here.”

Daphne brushed her hair off her face and nodded at Hermione. “See me tomorrow
for the homework assignment, Granger.”

“Thanks again.” Hermione said. She hated to admit it but she did feel safer as
Ron and Neville flanked her, Ron taking her bag over her protests that she
could carry it.

“Do you have any idea who did it?” Neville asked, his entire being radiating
concern.

“No,” Hermione sighed heavily, ‘I was at the foot of the stairs, I heard a
yell,’ she paused considering her memory for a moment, “I think it was female?
Then, the spell hit me in the face and that was that.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s a shortage of suspects.” Ron stated
authoritatively. “Between the Slytherins who are trying to impress
You-Know-Who, Diggory’s supporters, and Harry’s fangirls who probably hate
you…” he made a flapping gesture, “who’d you pick first?”

Hermione grimaced but she knew he was right. She felt lighter as they got to
the safety of the tower. She took back her book bag in the Common Room.

“Can you find Harry and tell him before he hears it from someone else?” She
pleaded. “And tell him I’m fine and I’m not changing my mind about dating
him.”

Neville nodded. “I think he’s still at Hagrid’s.”

“I’ll check there,” Ron suggested, pushing his sleeves up his arms, “you check
his and Sirius’s rooms. If Harry isn’t there, you can always tell Sirius.”

Neville agreed and Hermione made for her dorm as they clambered back out of
the portrait hole. She hated to admit it but she was feeling a bit shaky and
looking forward to curling up in bed with a book for an hour before dinner to
regain her equilibrium. She slowed as she entered the dorm at the tableau in
front of her.

Lavender and Parvati sat on Hermione’s bed, a teary Ginny between them.

“What’s going on?” asked Hermione, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Lavender looked up, her pretty face completely serious as she smoothed Ginny’s
hair away from her tear-stained and blotchy face. “Ginny has something to tell
you.”

And she so had the feeling that she didn’t want to hear what Ginny had to say,
Hermione thought with weary gloom.

“It wasn’t me!” Ginny said immediately, swiping at her face.

But Ginny knew who it was, Hermione realised. She sat down and motioned at
Ron’s sister. “Start talking, Ginny.”

o-O-o

*19**th* *November 1994*

Cedric threw the newspaper across the dorm and buried his face in his hands.

He heard Mike (his closest friend and confidante) usher out the other three
sixth year male Hufflepuffs and close the door. There was a rustle as Mike
picked up the paper and read the offending article.

It was another piece by Skeeter about Potter, although most of it was about
the attack on Hermoine Granger on the Tuesday before which had led to Lydia
Inglebee and Ginny Weasley being given a month’s worth of detentions, and the
expulsion of Jessica Philpott who had been the one to cast the spell injuring
Granger. Skeeter was malicious, calling Potter and Granger’s new relationship
fragile while questioning why the House of Black had requested the full
punishment under the new Hogwarts’ Anti-Bullying policy when the damage to
Granger wasn’t permanent and had been easily fixed. Personally, Cedric
believed that if he had been in Lord Black’s shoes he would have done exactly
the same. If people thought they could get away with shooting nasty spells at
Potter or Granger… well, some idiots would do it. This way everyone knew that
the House of Black wouldn’t stand for any kind of attack.

Cedric sighed as he lowered his hands and flopped back on his bed. What had
upset him was his view was diametrically the opposite to the view that his
father had expressed to Skeeter and which she had included in the article as a
quote from the distinguished father of the Hogwarts’ Champion.

Would anyone blame him if he killed his Dad? Surely by now he had grounds for
justifiable homicide.

Mike sighed heavily, dropped the paper and sat on the bed next to him, patting
his knee in an absent-minded but comforting gesture. “You need to talk with
your Dad, Ced.”

“I’ve sent him three letters begging him to stop talking to the press.” Cedric
said tersely. He wafted his hand in the general direction of where Mike had
thrown the paper. “You see how much notice he takes of me. He doesn’t care how
it makes me feel.”

His father hadn’t replied to any of the letters either. He hadn’t written to
Cedric since his first letter telling Cedric he was proud of him for being
chosen, and instructing him to seek out information on magical creatures such
as dragons for the first task since the tournament always began with a task
focused on them.

Cedric had ended up writing to his mother about his father’s indiscreet public
comments, and she had sent a disheartening reply back confirming that she had
tried to talk to his father too, but that he was set on trying to get Cedric
as much publicity as Potter; that it wasn’t all about Cedric either because
there was politics involved with the magical creature laws under review.

Cedric rubbed his head tiredly. He was damned fed up with being in the middle
of his father’s political machinations and trying to maintain some kind of
neutrality in his dealings with Harry.

He liked Harry. There was something infinitesimally likeable about him. Harry
had had no airs or graces when he’d just been ‘The Boy Who Lived’ and even
after he’d found about being Lord Potter, while he’d acquired polish in some
of his mannerisms, there were still no airs or graces in sight. And Merlin
knew if anyone had earned the right to feel a touch superior with everything
that had been said to have happened the last three years, it was Harry. It had
felt right standing beside him on Halloween, supporting him. It had been clear
that night that Harry had been scared at being entered into the tournament but
he’d also been incredibly brave in accepting the binding in order to ensure
the safety of the other Champions.

Cedric *owed* him.

And it felt wrong to drop his visible support and keep his silence because he
didn’t want to disagree with his father publicly, knew his father would be mad
at him if he did disagree with him publicly.

Admittedly, Cedric acknowledged with a flush of shame, he had been annoyed the
first day after the draw. The newspapers had focused so much on Harry’s
inclusion, it had been difficult not to feel slighted. He hadn’t entered the
competition for the publicity and glory but it was hard not to take offense at
his being chosen as a Champion being treated like a footnote in the bigger
story of Harry’s inclusion. He’d even been proud on the second day when the
paper had included a quote from his Dad saying the tournament wasn’t about
Harry but all the Champions. But after that…

He really didn’t know why his Dad had gotten so mean in his commentary. It was
one thing to point out there were other Champions, another thing entirely to
suggest Harry was some kind of attention seeking nut job who wouldn’t last a
minute compared to the other Champions and specifically Cedric.

Cedric had been horrified. And then guilty that his own small irritation that
the publicity focus was solely on Harry might have encouraged his Dad somehow.
And then even more horrified when some of his supporters at Hogwarts had
picked up on his Dad’s comments and run with them, but stuck because how could
he say that he disagreed with his Dad?

Oh, he had eventually requested that people stop bad mouthing Harry — and the
discussion with Robert Ogden that had prompted his having to make that request
was one of the more embarrassing moments Cedric had ever had — but he hadn’t
done anything else. He’d retreated, hoping that ignoring Harry would somehow
make the whole problem go away.

But it hadn’t and it wasn’t going to go away.

“You need to do something, Ced, because you’re coming off the bad guy here.”
Mike said quietly. “Potter’s camp has been solid in supporting him but being
real respectful to you, Krum and the French bird. The more your Dad denigrates
him and you don’t say anything…”

“I know!” Cedric cut in, lurching upwards. ‘I know, alright? But it’s not that
easy! I can’t give disagree with my Dad without it hurting him politically and
ruining my relationship with him.’ He sighed heavily. “Bugger! I only entered
to make him happy!”

He hadn’t wanted to enter. He’d have preferred to have remained on the
Quidditch team since he’d vaguely thought he’d try out for some teams after
school. Being a Tri-Wizard Champion would open doors for him but not if he
came across looking like a pillock.

Mike patted his shoulder awkwardly. “Look, I know it blows, but… you don’t
have to do an interview or something like that just… stop ignoring Potter. Go
and talk with him. Tell him the truth that your Dad’s views are his views and
not yours. I’m sure he’ll get it.”

Cedric grimaced but he couldn’t argue with the advice. He couldn’t continue
with his current ‘try to ignore it and hope it all goes away’ plan since it
wasn’t working. “You’re not wrong.” He admitted. He pushed himself off the
bed. “I think I’ll go and fly for a bit, get my head clear.”

Mike gestured at him. “You want some company?”

“No.” Cedric clapped a hand over Mike’s shoulder. “Thanks.” He grabbed his
broom and his outer cloak and was out of the Hufflepuff den before anyone
could catch him. He made straight for the Quidditch pitch.

It was thankfully empty. The first three games had been played ahead of the
tournament and the rest wouldn’t get played until after the New Year. The
weather was getting too bad for play — rain and wind making playing conditions
dicey. It wasn’t exactly good weather conditions for flying either. But there
was a break in the rain and the wind was down to a brisk breeze.

Cedric mounted the broom and kicked off. A couple of circuits of the pitch had
him warmed up and he started going through the Seeker drills that he’d always
done, letting the familiarity of the shifts and turns, dips and dives blank
his mind as he focused on nothing but the flight.

By the time an hour had passed, Cedric was feeling much better. His shoulders
felt lighter; he could breathe. He drifted down to earth and landed with a
sense of disappointment that he couldn’t stay in the air.

Stupid tournament, Cedric thought morosely. He should spend the rest of the
afternoon reading up on magical creatures since his and Mike’s research had
backed up his father’s suggestion. He planned to spend the next day practicing
any spells and he had plenty of volunteers for helping with that. Alright
then, he determined; shower in the Prefects’ Bath and then reading for the
rest of the afternoon.

He grabbed his broom and started to make his way towards the castle.

“Psst!”

The sound had him whirling around to stare at what looked like empty space
beside him. Suddenly the air rippled and Harry peeked out of an… an
invisibility cloak!

Cedric’s eyes widened.

Harry raised a finger to his lips and motioned at the Quidditch stands before
covering up again. For a second, Cedric thought about going in the opposite
direction but Harry had made an effort to seek him out and… and Cedric wasn’t
going to refuse the olive branch he should have made and offered himself. He
walked over briskly, and was pleased when Harry uncovered a hand so he could
follow it under the Ravenclaw stand and into the shadows. He watched as Harry
whisked off the cloak.

“I’ll put up a notice-me-not and a couple of other spells to encourage people
to leave us alone, if that’s OK with you?” Harry asked cautiously.

Cedric nodded.

Harry went to work and Cedric fidgeted while he absently noted that Harry’s
spell-work was quick, efficient and effective. But alone with Harry up close,
he was reminded again of how young Harry was, and he started to feel like a
heel all over again.

“Sorry about the subterfuge,” Harry said, finally stopping and coming to stand
in front of him, “but I’ve been trying to talk to you for a couple of days now
and… and, well… you’re rarely alone.”

Cedric cleared his throat. “I should be the one apologising and the one
seeking you out.” He sighed. “My Dad is…” he struggled to find the words and
in the end opted for the blunt truth, “I don’t agree with him but he’s my
Dad.”

There was a plea for understanding and Harry must have heard it because he
nodded.

“You don’t have to explain, Cedric,” Harry said seriously, “I get it, and I
know some of your Dad’s game plan with the publicity has more to do with the
political agenda than you and I competing in this tournament. Sirius
understands that too.”

Cedric pushed a hand through his hair.

“Look, I said I understand and I do.” Harry fiddled with the edge of his
cloak. ‘I even agree with your Dad kind of that it’s not that fair on you when
you were expecting the whole school to be behind you to have some of your
support pointed in my direction instead.’ He pressed his lips together.
“Sirius and I were talking the other day and… we talked about the fact that
neither of us really considered just doing the minimum for the tournament and
just letting you guys play for the win. But we both concluded that we can’t
for reasons why we decided to play to win in the first place which have
nothing to do with you or the other Champions, and have everything to do
with…”

“Beating the bad guys who entered you in the first place.” Cedric said. “I
read the interview you gave and I get it.”

And hadn’t Harry talked about his other competitors in glowing terms in that
interview? Cedric felt a shiver of shame flow through him again and he
adjusted his hold on his broom. “I do know it’s not your fault that you’re in
this position.” He said apologetically.

Harry flushed.

“And I’m really sorry about the badges.” Cedric continued. “I had nothing to
do with them but… they were out of line.”

Harry’s lips twisted. “Yeah, they were a bit much.” He pushed his glasses back
up his nose. “It’d be nice if you could tell your supporters that you want a
fair competition and no name-calling or bashing or…”

“Dirty tactics.” Cedric nodded slowly, because he could do that. “A fair game.
I like that.”

“Great,” Harry smiled at him widely, “and speaking of which, it kind of brings
me to what I wanted to talk to you about in the first place.”

Cedric stilled. “Oh?”

“When I was at Quidditch practice with Viktor he asked me if I’d ever come
across a dragon before,” Harry explained, “and I thought he was asking me
about something that… well, it doesn’t matter, but I, um, didn’t really pay
attention to Viktor until a, um, source heavily hinted to me that the first
task is going to be dragons.”

Dragons.

And suddenly he could see the letter from his father with the hint about
dragons written as though in capitals and red ink. His Dad had tried to tell
him, Cedric realised, possibly because his Dad had to have been told about the
importing of the dragons into the country as part of his job. He’d completely
missed the clue, placing dragons as a minor possibility once he’d done his
research on the tournament.

Cedric felt the need to sit down, his knees suddenly weak. He locked his knees
to keep upright. “That’s…”

“Insane.” Harry finished with a nod. “I know. Anyway, I checked with Viktor
and he admitted he was hinting to me because he’d found out from someone, and
he has tried to get you alone to hint to you too but… like I said, it’s been
difficult, so I said I’d try and tell you too.”

Cedric frowned. “Why?” The other two would have had a massive advantage if
they’d kept the information to themselves.

Harry’s cheeks went red. “Well, even though neither Viktor or I got told in a
way that the rules don’t allow… we both want a fair game.” He gestured at
Cedric. “And besides the tasks were made more dangerous because I was entered
and if I can help keep everyone alive…”

That made sense, Cedric mused, taking in Harry’s evident guilt about it
despite it not being his fault. Crouch Junior had a lot to answer for.

“So Fleur knows?” asked Cedric. He got on well with the Veela from
Beauxbatons. She’d come and sat next to him in the library on a couple of
occasions and… and he suddenly realised why she’d so prominently placed a book
on dragons down beside him the other day.

“Apparently *she* got Viktor’s hint straight away.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” Cedric murmured, “I think she tried telling me too but I didn’t take
the hint.” He decided not to say anything about his Dad; that situation was
complicated enough without adding to it.

“At least you know now, right?” Harry said encouragingly.

“Right.” Cedric agreed faintly, because it was better to know than to have
been surprised with it on the day of the task. “Merlin! Dragons!”

Harry nodded sympathetically. He cast a look out toward the castle. “I should
get back before Sirius starts to think I’ve been kidnapped or something.”

Cedric took a deep breath. “Why don’t we walk back together? Maybe it’ll help
squash some of the… you know.”

Harry’s face lit up and he hurriedly bundled his invisibility cloak to a
pocket in his outer wear before he dismantled the spells keeping them hidden.
“I watched you for a while flying,” he admitted as they made their way out of
the stands, “where did you learn those drills you did at the end?”

They talked Quidditch all the way back into the castle and Cedric tried not to
feel self-conscious at the attention they were drawing. He wasn’t surprised to
see Granger and Weasley waiting for Harry near to the main staircase.

“Hey, why don’t you come and join Viktor and me tomorrow? I’ll ask Fleur too.”
Harry invited as he got near to them. “We’ve got the pitch booked for eleven.”

“Sounds good.” Cedric said genuinely. “And Harry: thanks.”

Harry waved and walked off to join his friend and brand new girlfriend. Cedric
shook his head, ignored the staring of the other students and made for
Hufflepuff with a spring in his step.

He had some reading to do on dragons.

o-O-o

*20**th* *November 1994*

Remus dumped his case on the floor of the reception at Black Manor and rubbed
the back of his neck tiredly as he wandered through to the library and
ostensibly his and Penny’s office.

“You look exhausted.” Penny commented as he entered. “Sit! I’ll go and make
you some tea.”

Remus frowned. “Where’s Kreacher?”

“Out looking for the Crouch elf.” Bill raised the book he held in greeting. He
sat in one of the comfortable chairs tucked in front of Penny’s desk. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Remus responded automatically and sighed when he realised his exchange
with Bill had allowed Penny slip out to make tea.

Which he actually would appreciate so maybe he wouldn’t complain but simply
say a grateful thank you.

“I didn’t realise you had another trip overseas planned.” Bill said, lowering
his book.

“Sirius sent me to Romania.” Remus said succinctly. He grimaced and motioned
weakly with his hand as he slumped into his own chair with a sigh. “Actually,
I volunteered.”

Bill’s eyes brightened suddenly as he made the connection. “The dragon reserve
where Charlie usually works? You were checking which dragons are missing.”

“Got it in one.” Remus said. “We didn’t want to put Charlie in a difficult
position by questioning him further. It was good of him to send a hint through
Ron as it was.”

“That’s Charlie for you.” Bill said with brotherly fondness. Charlie was
brilliant about putting himself on the line like that. “So, any empty pens?”

“As far as I can make out from questioning the tour staff as we went round the
different habitats, there are four types missing a dragon.” Remus said with
satisfaction. He’d had to be incredibly sneaky in his questioning but he
hadn’t been a Marauder for nothing. “A Chinese Fireball, a Hungarian Horntail,
a Swedish Short Snout and a Welsh Green.”

Bill blinked. “Buggeration. They’re not exactly holding back on the danger
then.”

“The Horntail’s the worst.” Remus said thoughtfully. ‘It has a lot of extra
issues given the spiked tail and just generally the temperament. The Chinese
Fireball has a spiked necklace though which could be bad… out of all of them I
hope Harry faces the Welsh Green. It’s a docile breed and fairly lethargic in
its movements.’ He grimaced. “Knowing Harry’s luck, he’ll probably get the
Horntail.”

Penny entered with a large tea-tray. “I brought some for you too, Bill.”

“Thanks, Penny.” Bill leaped up to help her clear a space on her desk.

Penny played Mum and poured the tea, adding milk and sugar to taste. She
passed Remus his mug straight away and he wrapped his hands around it with a
sigh.

“Marry me, Penny.” Remus joked.

Penny laughed. “You only want me for my tea-making abilities.”

“That’s not true!” Remus rejoined. “You’re brilliant at indexing too!”

Penny laughed again but subsided with a heartfelt sigh. “I don’t think I’ll be
marrying anyone any time soon.”

Bill winced and blew on his tea. “Percy will come round.”

“He was fairly explicit in telling me we were over, Bill.” Penny said sadly.

Remus sent Bill a look asking if that was true and Bill gave an awkward nod.

“I’m sorry, Penny,” Remus said compassionately, “I didn’t realise you’d broken
up.” Although he wasn’t surprised that Percy was pushing people away in the
aftermath of what happened.

Penny nodded, pale but determined looking. “I haven’t been telling anyone
because I was getting used to the idea and…” she tapped her mug and made a
half-shrug, “I still thought I would be able to convince him it was a
mistake.”

“It is a mistake.” Bill said firmly. “He’s making a lot of decisions now that
he wouldn’t make if he was thinking straight.”

“Maybe, but as my friend Julie said, maybe he does need the space to deal with
what he’s going through.” Penny replied just as firmly. “I would prefer to
still be his girlfriend and be there to support him but if he needs space…
well, I’m going to give it to him.”

There was a resoluteness to her tone that evidently warned Bill off arguing
since the eldest Weasley sibling nodded instead.

“Maybe space is what he needs.” Bill sighed. “Merlin knows nothing else seems
to be working.”

“Sirius told me Percy resigned from the Ministry.” Remus said slowly. He
wasn’t sure Sirius’s plan of employing Percy was a good one as
well-intentioned as it was. He liked Percy but Percy needed to gain some
maturity and perhaps the lessons he was faced with learning in the fallout of
Crouch Junior’s impersonation of Crouch Senior would help him to do that.

“Hatter accepted immediately.” Bill said. “I think that was one of the things
that has Percy so upset. He worked hard in his job and he was good at it. He
had a lot of plans and ambitions tied up with the Ministry so his entire
career plan has just combusted. It’s a lot to take in.”

And there was the obvious issue of Percy having to deal with the knowledge
that he’d worked alongside the enemy for so many months — had in fact helped
the enemy.

“It doesn’t sound like he’s coping well.” Remus murmured.

Bill sipped his drink. “He’s pushing people away. He barely speaks to my Dad
or me; hasn’t sent a letter to Charlie or the twins or Ron or Ginny even after
that mess with Jessica Philpott. He’s in his room all day, crawls out for
meals that Mum makes him, and that’s it.” He tipped his head in Penny’s
direction. “We were all disappointed when he told us he’d broken up with Penny
but he won’t talk about it.”

“He’s definitely hurting.” Penny agreed with a soft sigh. “I think he’s
pushing people away because he blames himself for everyone getting hurt at the
World Cup but…” she gave a helpless shrug. “It’s hard to help someone who
doesn’t want to be helped.”

It sounded like Percy was drowning in self-recrimination.

Remus nodded. He’d have to talk with Sirius and tell him the steward’s
assistant thing was a no-go until Percy got his act together himself. They
wouldn’t do him any favours rescuing him from his own mess.

“How was Romania?” asked Penny, changing the subject in an obvious way that
indicated she’d had enough of talking about her ex-boyfriend.

Remus filled her in on his success. “I’ve already told Sirius the news over
the mirror so he can help specialise Harry’s preparation over the next couple
of days; create a strategy for each dragon.”

“Is he going to tell the other Champions about which types will be included in
the task?” Penny asked.

“I don’t know but I suspect Harry will tell them.” Remus said.

Penny pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Sirius mentioned that Harry was
determined to make it a fair fight and I guess that means they all have the
same information.”

“I got the impression from talking to Harry that he wants to make sure that
they all come out alive.” Bill commented quietly. “He’s aware that the tasks
were made more dangerous by Voldemort because of him so…”

That sounded like Harry, Remus mused. He’d have to tell Sirius but he doubted
that Sirius wasn’t already aware. He was just very pleased that Sirius was on
site for Harry. If Harry had had to go through the whole thing alone… he
shuddered.

Thank Merlin Cedric Diggory had finally found some backbone and made a gesture
of friendship towards Harry. Hopefully it would stop the worst of some of the
comments that he’d had to suffer since his return to Hogwarts.

“You should have seen them this morning though, Remus. All four Champions had
a practice Quidditch session.” Bill commented wryly. “Totally confounded the
press who ended up watching.”

“Well, one of the aims of the competition is to promote intra-school
relationships.” Remus said dryly.

“That’s what Fleur said when they got questioned.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed at the red slashes of colour across Bill’s cheeks.
“Fleur, huh?”

Penny smiled teasingly at Bill and Bill rolled his eyes.

“She’s seventeen and still at school.” Bill said. “But yes, she’s a good
looking girl and we’ve run across each other a few times since Halloween.”

“Isn’t she a Veela?” Remus asked out loud.

“Quarter, I think.” Bill said casually as though to convey there was nothing
unusual in his knowing such a specific piece of information.

“More likely she’s tracking you down and bumping into you accidentally.” Penny
said dryly.

“Caro might have said the same thing.” Bill muttered, hiding his face in his
mug.

Remus took a gulp of his tea. “I thought you were still seeing Alicia?”

“I am,” Bill said, “which is why there’s nothing happening with Fleur, and
even if I wasn’t seeing Alicia, there wouldn’t be anything happening with
Fleur because she’s too young for me.”

Penny raised an eyebrow. “It sounds to me like she has a bit of a crush
though.”

“Well, if she tries anything more than ‘bumping into me,’ I’ll let her down
easy,” Bill said with a touch of exasperation, “but in the meantime there’s no
harm.”

“Talking of crushes…” Penny smirked and handed Remus a letter.

Remus took it gingerly since it was purple parchment. He grimaced as he opened
the missive and then went bright red at the lewd suggestion written down.

“Wow,” Bill said, “that must be some letter.”

Remus carefully folded it.

Penny grinned at him. “Tonks was most insistent you receive it as soon as you
got back.”

“Bloody Padfoot!” Remus muttered and waved the letter. “This is his fault!”

They both looked at him questioningly.

“You both know Harry is now dating Hermione?” Remus began.

Bill raised his eyebrows. “I think the whole world knows Harry is dating
Hermione, Remus, it’s been front page news for the last week.”

“Yes, well, at the family dinner, Andy took Harry’s new romance to mean that
it was time for Sirius to start considering his own love life.” Remus
explained. “Sirius, in an attempt to divert her match-making attention from
himself, declared that I was looking for someone.”

Penny burst into giggles.

Remus tried to glare at her and failed.

“Are you looking for someone?” asked Bill, amusement shining out of his
freckled face.

Remus clutched his mug tighter. “No, not really? I just… I ran into an old
flame when we first went to Paris and I might have, in a momentary moment of
weakness, mentioned to Sirius that it would be nice to be with someone.” Which
it would.

“So Tonks…”

“Isn’t serious.” Remus stated firmly. She had teased him after the dinner and
the letter was probably a continuation of that. “It’s a joke.” It had to be.
There was no way a feisty young woman like Tonks would be interested in an old
wolf like him.

“Are you sure?” Penny asked, wiping away tears of laughter. “Because I have to
say, she looked pretty serious when she dropped the letter off.” She waggled
her eyebrows.

Remus blushed and cursed himself for blushing.

“Tonks is straight-forward. You should just ask her.” Bill advised, draining
his mug and setting it back on the tray.

“Even if she is serious,” Remus countered, “she isn’t someone I would date.”

Bill and Penny both looked at him with varying expressions of surprise.

“Why ever not?” asked Penny finding her voice first.

“Tonks is great.” Bill added, clearly gearing up to defend his friend.

“Yes, she is,” Remus said quickly, ‘she’s smart and funny and very charming in
her own way,’ he continued, “but, setting aside that she’s also a great deal
younger than I am, she’s also a member of the Ancient and Noble House that I
work for which makes any relationship beyond friendship a tad inappropriate
and risky.”

Penny’s confusion cleared. “I can understand that. If things go badly… I doubt
Sirius would fire you or anything but it would make things awkward, wouldn’t
it?”

“I guess I understand that,” Bill subsided back into his chair, “but I should
warn you that Tonks isn’t the type to give up all that easily.”

“How’s the search going at Hogwarts?” Remus asked, deciding a change of
subject was definitely in order.

Bill sent him another amused look at his avoidance of talking more about
Tonks. “Badly. We’ve covered a good part of the route we think Riddle must
have taken to the Headmaster’s office for his DADA interview but there’s
nothing so far.” He grimaced. “Honestly, we could look for years and find
nothing. Hogwarts is a strange building.”

Remus sighed and rubbed his brow, considering the problem. “Maybe we should
ask the portraits or the ghosts if they saw something or where they would hide
something?”

“That’s not a bad idea although I’m not sure how helpful it would be in truth.
We could just end up expanding the possible list of places to search.” Bill
said, turning it over in his head. ‘At least it gives us a second plan of
attack beyond widening the search pattern if we don’t find anything on the
route. I’ll talk to Caro; see what she thinks.’ He sighed. “You heard Lawrence
has been admitted to Saint Mungo’s?”

Remus nodded sadly. The former member of the treasure team had been cursed
when he’d put on the Gaunt ring trying to get to the Resurrection stone to
speak with his dead daughter. He had been steadily declining in health ever
since and nothing they had done with the exception of a potion Severus had
created had helped. Eventually Lawrence had stopped taking the potion though,
accepting his fate.

Remus let them lapse into silence as he savoured the tea and worried over how
to tell Tonks to back off without it making things awkward.

“How’s it going at the chateau?” Bill’s question dragged Remus’s attention
back to the library.

“There are eleven werewolves there now.” Remus said slowly, organising his
thoughts. “Ten of them are from Fenrir’s pack, mostly couples but two single
male werewolves… and a non-pack werewolf who heard from one of the European
packs that I was offering sanctuary.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Penny said. “That word is getting out?”

“I don’t know.” Remus sighed heavily and tried to ignore the beginnings of a
headache that always appeared when he thought about being an Alpha and forming
a pack. It hadn’t been in his plan. He didn’t want a pack per se. He wanted
the family he’d built with Sirius and Harry over the Summer. But he couldn’t
deny other werewolves a way out from Fenrir’s distorted views of packdom,
especially when it served to ensure Fenrir couldn’t count on his pack to
support Voldemort. Nor could Remus turn away someone like Clara.

Her story was very similar to Remus’s — bitten as a child, raised by her
parents, and educated by them with the hope she could still have a similar
life to the one she would have had without lycanthropy, only for their dream
to peter out under the reality of how hard it was for werewolves to find work
in the wizarding world. Clara had gone to the continent to seek work. She’d
been introduced to the packs but, just like Remus, fundamentally didn’t agree
that she should identify as a werewolf before she identified as a witch.

“*I was a witch first and my parents raised me to be a witch.” Clara had said
as they’d talked the night she had arrived over a bottle of red wine and some
crackers and cheese. “I don’t deny the need to belong somewhere but I want… I
want people who understand that being a werewolf is only part of who I am, not
the sum of me.”*

It resonated deeply with Remus’s own views. And perhaps, Remus mused, he could
admit that the thirty-one year old redhead with the sweet smile and warm brown
eyes was somewhat attractive. Which was another good reason to meet with Tonks
and get things straightened out before she went overboard with her crush or
joke… whichever it was that was motivating her pursuit of him.

He belatedly realised Penny and Bill were waiting for him to expand on his
last statement.

“I never wanted to build a pack?” Remus offered. ‘And yet, here I am building
a pack.’ He cast a longing look at the empty mug and Penny plucked it out of
his hands to refill it. “I’m also concerned that once it’s known, it’s going
to do damage for Sirius and Harry politically.”

Penny poured more tea into his mug and handed it back to him. “Sirius has
plans upon plans to deal with the news going public.” She reminded him. “You
shouldn’t worry.”

“And yet I do.” Remus responded her with a quiet thank you for the second mug.

“Anyone else building a pack and I’d worry,” Bill admitted, “but you’re *you*
so… that’s something, isn’t it? And maybe the way to look at it isn’t that
you’re building a pack but creating a sanctuary for other werewolves to be
able to live and work in relative peace with the aid of Wolfsbane to help
them.”

It was the picture Sirius was going to paint with the press eventually; Remus
knew that. “It’s just not a comfortable position for me.” He sighed and took
another sip of the too-strong tea. “I guess I should get used to it though.
Emile was expecting another five to turn up this week.”

“Are you going back out there?” Bill questioned, picking up the book he’d
discarded.

“After the first task.” Remus said decisively. He had to go back, welcome the
newcomers and make sure they understood the rules. Besides, it would be nice
to see Clara again, he thought wistfully. He set his tea down and reached for
the stack of unopened correspondence on his desk.

Sirius was right in that it was becoming increasingly obvious he needed an
assistant, Remus considered tiredly. He definitely needed someone even if it
wasn’t Percy. Keeping up with the Black and Potter estates and keeping control
of the Malfoy finances was a full time job without the extra work of helping
Harry with the tournament and establishing the werewolf sanctuary. Maybe the
truth was that he didn’t have time to have a love life.

And on that depressing note, Remus thought with rueful amusement, he should
get back to work. He opened the first letter and smoothed it out.

POP!

Penny screamed as Remus shoved his chair back, his heart stampeding in his
chest at the loud noise, his wand already in his hand as was Bill’s as they
stared at the sight in front of them.

Kreacher.

He was unconscious and he was wrapped around the body of another elf.

Ensuring Pronglet Survives: Chapter 6
=====================================

*20**th* *November 1994*

The atmosphere in the Hogwarts’ infirmary was tense.

Sirius glanced around the gathered group; Remus and Bill stood by one bed,
guarding the unconscious elf laid out on the blankets; Dumbledore, Moody and
Snape hovered at the end of the beds. He, Harry and Dobby had gathered next to
Kreacher’s bed where Helen Jordan was conducting a health assessment.

Jordan stepped back from the infirmary bed and sighed, lowering her wand. “I’m
not an expert on elves but he’s severely exhausted as far as I can tell. He
used a lot of his energy to get back to Black Manor and transporting another
elf alongside himself.”

Dobby tentatively reached out and touched Kreacher. He snatched his hand back
and pulled at his ear. “Moved through wards meant to keep all but blood out.
Used Winky bound to the blood to fool them.”

“Well, that would do it.” Jordan said dryly. “I think he’ll recover in time.”

Dobby nodded enthusiastically.

Sirius guessed that he was confirming Jordan was right.

The doctor walked around the bed and they followed her over to the second elf,
a female elf who looked rather too thin and abused.

“She is being Winky.” Dobby confirmed. “The Crouch elf.”

“I can’t believe your elf actually found her, Black.” Moody said, his magical
eye whirling.

“Kreacher is very resourceful.” Sirius admitted, glancing back with no small
amount of guilt at the unconscious form of the Black family elf.

Jordan pursed her lips and her wand weaved in a familiar pattern as she
conducted the diagnostic. “Hmmm. It’s not good news.” She said. “I can’t say
for certain because she’s an elf and the assessment is meant for someone
human, but it’s telling me that she’s taken something like a Draught of the
Living Death.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore’s expectant face fell, “how unfortunate. We had hoped to be
able to question her on the whereabouts of her master.”

“You have to admire his smarts.” Moody said. “Knew she was a weak point so he
took her out of the equation.”

“But didn’t kill her because the bond provides him with protection from being
found by other elves.” Remus sighed and whirled away to stare out of the large
infirmary windows.

Sirius wondered if the callous treatment of the elf wasn’t pressing some of
Remus’s werewolf buttons. It wasn’t as though werewolves were treated any
better.

“Poor Winky.” Harry murmured. His wide green eyes were moving over the elf’s
battered body.

Sirius put a hand on Harry’s shoulder to comfort him — or maybe himself. He
cleared his throat. “Remind me; there’s no antidote to the Living Death, is
there?”

Snape sneered at him as expected. “If that is what this is. There are a few
other draughts that it could cause the same long term catatonic effect. The
Dark Lord knows all of them.”

“Can you…” Sirius flapped his hand in a motion that he hoped said ‘find out
which potion it was.’

“Perhaps.” Snape said sounding bored. ‘I would need some of the elf’s blood to
test and isolate the potion’s properties.’ He met Sirius’s gaze derisively.
“However, there is no antidote for any of the potential potions.”

Sirius raised his own eyebrow. “Then, you’ll have to create one, won’t you,
Snape.”

Snape was too much of a Slytherin to gape at him but Remus’s muffled snort by
the window and Bill’s choked cough expressed their view of his outrageous
suggestion. And he knew it was outrageous but it was necessary. They needed
the antidote and to talk with the elf.

“Just like that?” derided Snape, his voice shifting up two octaves in
incredulity.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Sirius said, “you’re a Potions Master, Snape, and as
much as I think you’re a crap teacher, I know just how skilled you are at
creating potions. I know you’re more than capable of creating an antidote.”

“With what supplies?” demanded Snape. “Or are you expecting me to use the
school’s?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I’ll supply you with whatever you need. Just make a
list and give it to Remus.”

Snape stared at him. “You’re serious.”

Sirius repressed the urge to be childish and make a name-related pun. “She
could be the only way of finding out where Crouch Junior and the rest are
hiding, so yes: I’m serious.” He held Snape’s gaze. “Deadly.”

Snape gathered his robes around him. “Very well. I’ll work on discovering what
potion was used and creating an antidote.”

Sirius nodded sharply in acknowledgement. He wasn’t going to say thank you. He
would rather walk over hot coals.

“Splendid!” Dumbledore clapped his hands and beamed at them both.

Merlin. Sirius repressed the urge to cover his face with his hands at
Dumbledore’s evident approval at him and Snape working together. He decided
ignoring it was the better part of valour and headed back to the prone form of
Kreacher.

For all of Kreacher’s hard work since Sirius had become Lord Black, Sirius
still harboured the memories of the cruelties Kreacher had perpetrated against
Sirius as a child. Perhaps his mother had ordered it but Kreacher had been the
one to execute the instructions whether denying him food or chaining him into
the basement or…

Sirius shook the thought away. Sometimes he wondered if Lily and Hermione
hadn’t the right of it where elves were concerned. The bond between wizards
and elves might keep the elves alive but it was too corruptible. His mother
had used Kreacher as a weapon and so had Crouch with Winky — and on the other
side of the coin, both Dobby and Winky had been abused by their so-called
masters.

The bond.

He never wanted to acknowledge that there was a bond between him and his
elves. He wanted to think of himself as an enlightened employer of them rather
than the slave master that held their magical leash. But there was a bond and
he was a slave master — a master with responsibilities to his slaves.

Kreacher had been magically exhausted following Sirius’s order.

Sirius cleared his throat and placed his hand with the House of Black ring on
Kreacher’s chest. “Familius magicus donum.”

Silver light erupted beneath his hand and Kreacher’s body lifted from the bed
a little as he absorbed the magic of the House of Black. Sirius held the
position until Kreacher began to stir. He took his hand away and waited.

“A gift of magic?” Harry murmured beside him.

“Kreacher was injured in service to us.” Sirius said quietly.

Kreacher’s large eyes opened slowly and he breathed in deeply. His gaze flew
to Sirius. “Lord Black.” He attempted to sit up.

“Easy, Kreacher.” Sirius motioned for him to remain lying down. “Rest. You
depleted your magic quite badly retrieving Winky.”

The elf shuddered. “She’s being in the old London paupers’ crypt, Lord Black,
protected by old magic.”

“How did you find her?” Moody asked bluntly.

Kreacher glared at him.

Sirius pinched the brow of his nose. “Answer Moody’s question.”

“I follows Winky’s blood from Crouch house. Used it to enter bad wards.”
Kreacher waggled his ears. “Is hard sometimes to keep trail.”

“Did the trail take you anywhere else?” Moody asked briskly.

Kreacher shook his head.

“I’ll go tell the Rat Squad.” Moody headed out of the infirmary.

It was probably too late to catch anyone there. No doubt the elf had been
stowed there when the others had gone into hiding after the Crouch place had
become untenable.

“You did good, Kreacher.” Sirius said. “Go back to Black Manor and rest for
the day. You can begin your usual duties again tomorrow.”

Kreacher popped away.

“Thank you for releasing my patient.” Jordan said dryly.

Sirius gave an embarrassed cough and shot Harry a betrayed look at his snort
of laughter.

“What’s going to happen to Winky?” Harry asked, gesturing back at the bed
holding the battered elf.

“She will need to remain in close proximity to my work.” Snape pointed out.

“I would suggest a small room for her here.” Jordan sighed. “But neither Poppy
nor I have the time to look after her and…”

“Dobby bes looking after Winky.” Dobby offered immediately, daring a look at
Harry, his ears drooping a little. “If Harry Potter is not minding Dobby
looking after Winky.”

“I think it’s a great idea, Dobby.” Harry said with a grin.

Dumbledore smiled benevolently. “Then it is agreed. Winky will stay in the
infirmary and be looked after by Dobby while Severus attempts to heal her.”

“It could take months.” Snape warned.

“Then, we’d best let you get started.” Sirius said, slinging an arm around
Harry to direct him out of the infirmary. He jerked his head at the door,
catching Remus’s and Bill’s eyes so they knew to follow them.

The walk to their rooms was quick but Sirius wasn’t surprised to see Amelia
and Rufus waiting for them by the portrait with Moody.

“You’d better come in.” Sirius said giving into the inevitability.

He didn’t object when Harry sat down with them to discuss the latest
developments. He knew as much as he’d wanted to keep Harry away from
everything, he had more right to be there than anyone.

“Moody’s updated you?” Sirius checked.

Amelia nodded briskly from her place on one of the sofas; Rufus sat awkwardly
beside her on one side, Moody on the other. Bill sat next to Harry on the
other sofa, Remus perched on the arm. Sirius settled for standing in front of
the fire.

“So we know Crouch went to London.” Sirius summarised. “Is it possible that’s
where they’re hiding out?”

“Anything is possible.” Rufus shot back with an irritated scowl.

Amelia shot him a look that told him to behave. “London would be a good place
for them to disappear into given it’s one of the busiest wizarding places in
Britain.”

“And that’s not counting muggle London which is a teeming metropolis.” Remus
added thoughtfully. “We could search London for years and not find them
there.”

“That’s the truth of it.” Moody agreed gruffly.

Rufus sighed heavily. “I’ll have the Rat Squad check out the crypt tomorrow.”

“I’ll come along with them if it’s OK.” Sirius offered. “My animagus form is
good at tracking.”

“You were the best tracker the department had back in the war.” Moody agreed.

“I’ll come too? Sometimes the wolf picks up on scents.” Remus offered with a
mild mannered smile that said he was harmless really.

Rufus huffed out a breath but nodded. “Fine. You can come by the DMLE and meet
up with Wood in the morning.”

“You might need a curse-breaker.” Bill piped up.

Rufus glowered at him.

“He’s right.” Amelia said, her tone rich with amusement. “Better Bill and Caro
than someone who doesn’t know the reason why we need to go poking in a crypt.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” said Rufus with both busy eyebrows
lowered.

“No.” Amelia agreed cheerfully. “This is the best lead we have since the
seaside cottage idea doesn’t seem to be leading anywhere at all.”

Rufus grimaced. “London isn’t exactly much of a lead.” He suddenly shifted to
stare at Harry. “You’re not coming, Potter.”

Harry blinked at him in apparent confusion. “No, I kind of have school
tomorrow. Although…” he looked at Sirius with a half-hopeful expression.

While Sirius might have let him sit in on the meeting, there was a line and
Sirius was drawing it.

“You don’t kind of have school tomorrow,” Sirius replied firmly, “you *do*
have school and you need to incorporate Remus’s latest intelligence in your
preparations for the first task on Wednesday.”

Harry sighed dramatically and flopped back on the sofa.

“Besides,” Sirius pointed out, “do you really want to go poking around a
crypt? Dead bodies and bones and dirt and…”

“OK,” Harry said hurriedly, raising his hands in surrender, “if you put it
like that.”

“That’s the reason I like crypts.” Bill declared with a grin.

“Good for you.” Sirius said, amused as Harry’s mock look of horror.

Rufus turned to Sirius. “Have to admit that it was a good idea sending your
own elf after Crouch’s. Shame she’s out cold.”

“Do you think Snape will be able to find an antidote for her?” Amelia asked.

Sirius shrugged. “I’m not his biggest fan but he is brilliant with potions.”

“There was a reason why Voldemort held him in such high esteem despite his
halfblood parentage.” Remus said dryly. “If anyone can find an antidote, it’s
Severus.”

“I don’t disagree with either of you and you’re both forgetting that the lad’s
got a point to prove,” Moody said, “he’ll create the antidote.”

Amelia nodded slowly. “Good. If we can get to talk with the elf…”

“She won’t tell us anything.” Rufus said. “Her bond won’t let her betray her
master.”

Sirius tapped the mantelpiece and said nothing. The spell his grandfather had
taught him would work for a short time, he was certain of it.

Amelia got to her feet, prompting Rufus and Moody to do the same. “I’ll see
you at the Ministry tomorrow.”

“I should get going too.” Bill said once they’d left. ‘Oh hey.’ He nudged
Harry’s arm. “Thanks for talking with Ginny. I don’t know what you said but
apparently she’s agreed to do the mind healing.”

“You should thank Hermione.” Harry replied. ‘She was the one who convinced me
to talk to her.’ He pushed himself off the sofa. “She still hasn’t convinced
Ron.”

The fallout of the attack on Hermione had been tremendous. All three had
planned to prank Hermione because she was going out with Harry. Jessica had
taken it a step further choosing a malicious spell rather than the paint that
the girls had agreed upon. Both Ginny and Lydia, who had immediately ran to
her brother to confess her part given the political implications, had been
horrified by Jessica’s spell but couldn’t deny they’d planned the ambush
together. They’d been lectured by the staff and their parents about their
attitude regarding Harry and Hermione, and specifically about the stalking,
which everyone admitted had they stepped in sooner might not have led to an
attack. Since Jessica had been expelled, the other two girls had taken on
board the seriousness of what had happened. However, Ron was giving his sister
the cold-shoulder and silent treatment.

Bill winced visibly. “Don’t remind me.” He waved and departed.

“Moony,” Harry asked, “which of the dragon types is the most dangerous?”

Remus startled as though he’d been thinking about something else entirely.
“Hmmm? Oh, the Horntail is considered the most dangerous.”

“Right,” Harry said, “I’ll look that one up first then, knowing my luck I’ll
be the one to get it.” He wandered away to the stairs and left Remus staring
bemusedly after him.

Remus turned to Sirius.

“He’s not wrong.” Sirius said, folding his arms across his chest.

But thankfully they knew what the dragon types were and that there were
dragons. Hopefully it would be enough to keep Harry alive. That belief was
with him the next morning when he met up with everyone else for the search of
the pauper’s crypt.

The Rat Squad was out in full and Shacklebolt and Tonks had been included
since they were still leading the investigation into the missing pregnant
Summers woman. With the inclusion of Remus, Bill and Caro, Sirius was reminded
of the treasure hunt to find the ring. The conference room was packed. He felt
a pang of loss that Harry was missing out but since he was also mostly
relieved that Harry was missing out on digging through bones, he paid it no
attention.

“Can we pretend for a moment that I’m in charge?” Rufus barked from the front.

Amelia raised an eyebrow from her place beside him but said nothing. It was
very amusing how Rufus changed colours rapidly under her relentless stare
though.

“Of this briefing.” Rufus managed to get out after he’d turned purple.

Remus turned to Sirius with a look that Sirius hadn’t seen since they’d both
been at Hogwarts — mischievous and snickering; school boys making fun of a too
fussy professor.

Sirius had to work hard to keep himself from giggling and he arranged his face
into his best ‘I’m listening’ expression even though he wasn’t because it
wasn’t like he didn’t already know what was going to be said.

Tonks passed Sirius a note.

It was addressed to Remus. Sirius’s eyebrows shot up. Really? He’d seen Tonks
flirting with Remus at the family dinner after Sirius had pointed Andy at
Remus’s love life so she’d leave his alone but… really? There was a hell of an
age difference and the whole awkwardness thing if romance didn’t work out.
Tonks wagged her eyebrows at Sirius meaningfully, turning them green then blue
before they shifted back to her usual colour of pink. He guessed she was
determined to follow through with her flirting and since Moony did need to get
some fun in his life…

Sirius slid the folded piece of paper to his right and nudged Remus. Remus
glanced at him and Sirius motioned with his eyes to the paper. Remus frowned.
He shot a look at Tonks who was purposefully not looking at either of them.
Remus glared at Sirius who raised both eyebrows because how was Tonks passing
notes to Remus his fault? Well, beyond the whole throwing Remus at Andy and
taking part in the passing of the notes thing.

Remus picked up the note, read it and turned an impressive shade of red.

Oh, Sirius was so going to tease him for that later.

“Does anyone have any questions?” asked Rufus loudly.

The room was silent.

“Director?” Rufus said politely.

Amelia shook her head. “I’ve nothing to add.” Her gaze swept over the
assembled team. “Except good luck.”

Rufus banged his fist on the top of the desk and marched out of the room.

Wood, who had been placed nominally in charge of the search, got to his feet.
“I’ll organise our portkey. Everyone else get ready and meet back here in
fifteen.”

Sirius was ready and he knew Remus was too. They had both dressed for the
occasion in black muggle jeans, black t-shirts and jackets that were warm but
provided plenty of movement. Sirius didn’t mind any of his outfit getting
dirty or binned because he fully intended to bin every single piece of
clothing after digging in bones. He put his feet on the table and leaned back
in his chair to wait for the others to come back after changing out of their
robes.

He hid his grin at Remus’s embarrassment as Tonks swept past him with a bawdy
wink.

“Don’t laugh!” Remus remonstrated in a hiss. “You should see what she wrote.”
He pushed the piece of paper at Sirius.

“*Size doesn’t matter to a metamorphagus.”*

Sirius spluttered with laughter in the thankfully empty room.

“This is all your fault!” Remus said, hitting Sirius’s arm.

“She’s just having some fun with you, Moony.” Sirius said soothingly. “Merlin
knows you could use some fun.”

Remus gave him a disappointed look. “Apart from how awkward it would be if
things didn’t work out, she’s too young, Sirius!”

“Yeah, I kind of figured those would be your objections.” Sirius preened a
little at getting that right.

“You can’t think this is a good idea.” Remus waved the paper at him.

Sirius sobered up a touch and sighed, letting go of his want to tease Moony.
“On the one hand, I think you and Tonks dating is hilarious and a bad idea,
you’re right. But Tonks is… she’s brilliant and you’d have fun with her. And I
think you’d force her to grow up a bit and that’s not a bad thing.” He held up
a hand when Remus went to argue. “But it’s not really any of my business.”

Remus regarded him thoughtfully. “That’s actually a very mature response,
Padfoot.”

“I’ve grown as a person.” Sirius deadpanned.

“You have.”

He said it with enough sincerity that Sirius knew he meant it which caused a
warm achy feeling in his chest because Sirius might have always yearned for
Remus’s approval after the thing with Snape, and it always felt good to get
it.

Remus sighed and shifted position in the uncomfortable conference room chair.
“I think I might like someone else?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Her name’s Clara.” Remus said. “She’s one of the werewolves at the chateau.
She’s… we have a lot in common.”

He schooled himself not to wince and swallowed the urge to press Remus for
more details. “Well, if your interest is elsewhere, I’d tell Tonks before her
pursuit gets… more direct and leaves her open to being embarrassed because she
simply thinks you’re playing hard to get.”

“Right.” Remus said. “You’re right. I’ll invite her out for coffee or lunch or
something.”

He looked terrified. Sirius patted him on the arm. “Good man.”

There wasn’t a chance to discuss it further as everyone piled back into the
room and they took the portkey to the wizarding pauper’s crypt.

They landed at the entranceway in a derelict cemetery on the East side of the
River Thames. The white crumbling edifice that housed the steps down looked
unsound. Two of the outside columns had crumbled, one was cracked. The stone
door was wide open but cobwebs hung on the upper corners and over every
surface of the bare inside. Whatever minimal decoration there had been, had
long since eroded leaving an empty shell.

“Well, this isn’t creepy.” Tonks said brightly, breaking the silence.

“I’ve seen worse.” Caro rejoined dryly.

Brooks cast a magical light ball into the air to illuminate the immediate
area.

“Darren, Marina,” Wood pointed at Cambridge and Ambrey, “you stay out here and
keep watch. Keith, if you run some traces out here; see if we can pick
anything up.”

Brooks nodded.

“Bill, Caro,” Wood motioned to them, ‘you follow after me,’ he turned to Remus
and Sirius, “then you guys.”

“Kingsley, Tim; you have the rear.” Wood motioned at Shacklebolt and Chambers.
“Tonks, you stay with the civilians.”

“Fine with me.” Tonks said as she manoeuvred in between Sirius and Remus.

Sirius gave Remus a sympathetic look but he focused his attention on falling
into line behind Bill and not falling down the worn stone steps that led down
into the bowels of the crypt. Wood sent up light balls as they went so the
dark oppressive tunnel was well lit.

It still raised Sirius’s discomfort level, bringing back the tickle of the
memories he associated with Azkaban. The dank and decaying smell in his
nostrils didn’t help either. He shivered under his heavy canvas jacket and
gripped his wand a little tighter. He initiated some breathing exercises that
he’d learned during his time at The Valley clinic, because keeping himself
calm was a good thing, and he resisted the pull to fall into Padfoot where the
worst of his memories would be dulled and fuzzy.

It was a long trip downwards and when the steps finished, the tunnel opened
out into the burial crypt. It ran for miles under London, backed onto the
muggle sewers at some point, the river in other places. There was just enough
room width wise for three men to stand shoulder to shoulder but the ground
beneath their feet was grimy and the walls were filled with bodies and bones.
Small creatures scurried in the shadows.

“OK, so is it just me,” Tonks said as they walked further into the innards of
the crypt, “or is it much creepier down here than upstairs?”

“It’s always creepier when there are rats.” Caro agreed with evident distaste.

Wood slowed as the crypt branched off. He raised his wand. “Which way?”

Remus weaved his wand in an archaic motion but Sirius could see him
surreptitiously sniffing. “There’s evidence of new blood that way.” He pointed
to the left.

“Kingsley, how about you, Tonks and Caro check that out?” Wood pointed to the
right. “Just in case.”

Kingsley, Tonks and Caro acknowledged the order and moved off.

The rest of them headed down the left branch of the crypt. It felt like they
had walked for miles when Remus spoke again, almost shocking Sirius who had
fallen into the lull of the quiet.

Remus sniffed again. “There’s blood ahead.”

Sirius shook himself, pulling his mind back to the present. “Fresh?”

“Yes.” Remus said.

Bill cast ahead and grabbed Wood’s arm as he went to move forward. “There are
blood wards just around the next bend. Serious blood wards and a trip alarm.”

Wood frowned in the dim light. “Let’s keep our wits about us then.”

They inched forward carefully around the corner and peered down the long
tunnel until disappeared into darkness.

“Stop!” Bill ordered. He cast carefully. ‘It’s a tricky trip alarm. It’s been
set-up to trigger some kind of signal to someone when something magical passes
through it.’ He pointed with his wand. “It covers the entire tunnel like a
force-shield.” He frowned and reached into his ubiquitous back-pack, bringing
out a wooden object.

It looked like a hollowed out square cube, Sirius mused.

Bill placed it on the ground and with his fingers gently nudged it into the
ward. “It’s non-magical so it shouldn’t trigger the ward. I’ve left this far
end outside of the ward so…” He aimed carefully with his wand and non-verbally
cast at the cube.

The spell hit the cube outside of the ward. It grew rapidly until it almost
filled the tunnel providing a safe way through for them. Sirius clapped Bill
on the back.

“Clever.” Remus remarked with relief.

“We should still proceed with caution,” Bill said, although he flashed a smile
at them both, “it’s possible Kreacher already triggered the trip and we might
have company.”

Sirius considered the possibility and bared his teeth in a parody of a smile.
“Let’s hope so.” He would love to get his hands on any of them — Peter,
Crouch, Travers…

Wood shot him an exasperated look. “It’ll be my arse on the line if you get
injured.”

“Don’t worry,” Remus said dryly, “Amelia knows what he’s like.”

Sirius harrumphed and froze at the sight of the wall coming up on his right.
It was crumpled in the middle, debris falling into the tunnel along with a
number of bones that were being chewed on by a couple of rats.

“Well, that’s where all the blood is concentrated.” Remus said, pointing
towards it.

Bill took his time casting the diagnostics. “I have no idea how Kreacher
survived busting through these blood wards except for the fact that he’s an
elf; they’ve been set-up to be deadly to wizards.”

“Let’s see if we can find a trail.” Wood suggested.

Sirius nodded and raised his wand, beginning the tracking spells he had
learned as a Hit Wizard.

Remus sniffed the air. “The scent of blood is overwhelming everything else but
maybe I can track it if I get a good enough sniff.” He wandered closer to the
blood ward.

“Careful, Remus.” Sirius cautioned him.

“It probably wouldn’t kill me.” Remus muttered, but he stayed back and Sirius
counted it as a win.

He turned his attention back to the tracking spell and froze. There was a
trace of recent magic; very recent magic; animagus magic.

Sirius cleared his throat carefully, his eyes seeking out the rats near the
wall. One of them was almost right next to Bill; the other back with the bones
close to Remus. He had a fifty-fifty chance of guessing correctly…

“Moony.”

“Yes, Padfoot.”

“Did you know that Ron discovered his animagus form?” Sirius asked casually,
taking a step closer to Wood where he had an open shot of the rat by Bill’s
foot.

Remus froze, his eyes darting to Sirius’s with the right question, and Sirius
nodded almost imperceptibly.

Bill turned to look at them both quizzically.

“Nope, can’t say I did.” Remus stretched as though he was completely relaxed,
his keen gaze taking in the position of the rats. He took a step back to give
himself a clearer shot of the one close to him.

With practiced ease both of them spun in unison and yelled the spell to force
an animagus back into human form.

The rat by Bill quickly formed into the visible shape of Peter Pettigrew.

But Peter was quick, already firing his wand at the ceiling and bringing a
deluge of debris down that cut Remus and Bill off from Wood and Sirius who
both had to take cover or get hit with the falling ceiling.

Sirius threw a cutting hex at him through the cloud of dirt and Peter squeaked
as he threw himself sideways to avoid it but he couldn’t quite escape it and
it impacted his shoulder. He threw another expulso at them. Wood dived to one
side, throwing up a shield in front of him, and Sirius dived to the other. The
expulso ricocheted off the shield and into the wall behind Wood, causing it to
fall and knock him on the head. He slumped to the ground.

Sirius coughed and cast another cutting hex.

Peter squeaked again, created a thick bank of fog even as he changed back into
Wormtail, the hex flying over his head. He scuttled away into the dense grey
mist.

Sirius cast a glance at Wood, and despite his want to chase after Peter,
hurried over to check on him. “Wood?” He felt for a pulse and found one.

Wood coughed weakly and stirred at Sirius’s touch, his eyes blinking open.

“Are you…?” Sirius asked quickly.

“Fine,” Wood clutched at his bleeding head and motioned down the tunnel, “go!”

Sirius changed into Padfoot and scented the rat — there was a blood trail.
Padfoot gave a howl of rage and Sirius fought hard to keep control of his form
as he began the chase. Peter must have changed back, Sirius thought as he
bounded down the tunnel. He would have caught up with a rat before now whereas
Peter in human form could have gotten a good head start. He thanked Merlin
that his animagus form had good night vision; the dark of the tunnel was
oppressive.

He skidded to a halt at a junction; left or right…

He sniffed the ground anxiously and found a smear of blood to the left… but
his nose pointed him right and he took off again.

The flash of a spell sailed through the air and Sirius leaped to avoid it,
twisting to land on the wall with his back paws to rebound off it, adrenaline
surging through him.

Peter was close!

Padfoot skidded around another corner and Sirius ducked hurriedly as another
spell flew towards him. He snarled at the sight of Peter stood in front of a
dead end; the lower two thirds a wall, the upper third iron bars covered with
a metal mesh and the shimmer of the magical barrier that prevented magic from
seeping through into the muggle world. The sound of rushing water beyond gave
away that they’d reached the muggle sewer system; the glimmer of a shaft of
sunlight flowed over the bars.

Sirius lowered his head and growled, preparing to pounce.

Peter changed rapidly…

Sirius jumped…

And Wormtail disappeared into a small hole at the foot of the wall.

Sirius just avoided crashing into it and he shifted back to human form,
hitting the wall with his fist as he glared through the bars and mesh at the
sight of Peter changing from his rat form to stare back at him safely on the
other side, sunlight from a drain high above gilding his dirty form. Neither
of them could cast anything because of the magical barrier.

For a long tense moment their gaze held.

Peter turned away…

“James loved you, Peter!” Sirius yelled. “How could you do that to him?!” He
had loved Peter too. The betrayal cut deep and painful.

Peter’s shoulders slumped as he stopped but he didn’t look back over his
shoulder at Sirius. “I told you the truth in the Shack, Sirius. I was scared.”

The quiet rush of the sewer water almost made him inaudible but Sirius heard
him.

Sirius placed a hand on one of the bars and levered himself up against the
wall. “We were all scared, Peter. It’s no excuse.”

Peter laughed humourlessly. “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head.
“It’s too late now anyway. I made my choice.”

“It’s not too late.” Sirius said immediately. “You don’t have to do this,
Peter! Do you… do you remember when Harry was born? Do you remember what we
promised James, Peter? All of us standing around the crib the night they
brought him home?”

They’d promised to protect Harry; all of them, every single one of the
Marauders.

“The Dark Lord will kill him no matter what we do.” Peter said eventually. He
raised a hand to his hurt shoulder and winced as his hand came back bloody.

“No, he won’t.” Sirius argued fiercely. ‘Not if you do what you promised James
in the first place and protect his son.’ He gave a harsh bark of laughter.
“Harry saved your life in the Shack, Peter. You owe him.”

“So that means I have to die for him?” Peter finally looked back over at
Sirius. His round face was streaked with grime, his thinning hair askew. “I’m
not you, Sirius! I’m not brave enough to put myself between the Dark Lord and
a boy… a boy I don’t even know.”

Sirius banged his hand on the bar as Peter went to leave again. “That’s a
lie!” He shouted. ‘You know Harry, Peter! You know him because you watched him
for almost three years as Ron Weasley’s rat! You know he’s good and kind and
brilliant!’ He searched desperately for an argument that would convince Peter
to give himself up, hating that he couldn’t just stun him. “He’s defeated your
Dark Lord three times in the time you’ve known him! He defeated him at eleven
and he defeated a shade of him at twelve. Your Dark Lord fears him!”

“You might be right about that.” He said tiredly.

“You know Harry can defeat him if you stop bloody helping him then!” Sirius
said sharply. Come on, Wormy, Sirius thought; come on!

Peter faced him again and smiled sadly. “I’ve made my choice, Sirius.” He
straightened, catching and holding Sirius’s furious glare. ‘I am the Dark
Lord’s willing servant, Sirius, just as Harry is his unwilling enemy.’ He
touched his shoulder again, his voice dropping to a murmur that Sirius
struggled to hear. “It will all be decided one way or another on the eve of
the Summer solstice.”

And Peter shifted into Wormtail before Sirius could do more than gape at him,
scuttling away and out of sight.

Sirius slammed his hand against the bar once more and slumped against the
wall. So close… he’d been so close…

“Padfoot!” Remus’s worried yell shattered the silence.

Sirius gathered his composure. “Over here!”

Remus rounded the corner, wand out, covered in dust and the dark shadow of a
graze on his cheek. Sirius straightened and pushed off the wall to go and
check on him.

“Peter?”

“The rat went through a hole in the wall.” Sirius grumbled as he grasped
Remus’s chin and tutted loudly at the injury. “You alright, Moony? And the
others?”

“I took a bump to the head when the ceiling came down, but I’m fine. Bill’s
just a bit scratched up. We managed a bit of transfiguration work to get
through the rubble. Wood’s conscious but dizzy.” Remus dismissed his concern.
“You?”

His body ached; bruises and bumps and scratches making themselves known with
the confrontation over and the absence of the adrenaline that had masked them
during.

“I need a drink.” Sirius said bluntly.

“Let’s get back then. Caro, Tonks and Shacklebolt found the pregnant Summers
woman in the other tunnel.” Remus said. “It looks like they dosed her with
whatever they dosed the elf with. Caro’s trying to dismantle the blood ward to
get her out.”

Sirius brightened. That was good news. He cast a look back towards the muggle
sewer.

“Merlin, Moony, I think I almost had him. He…” the words Peter had uttered
before he’d ran off echoed in Sirius’s head, “I think Peter’s tried to help
us.”

Remus’s mouth fell open. He shook himself. “What!?”

“I’ll tell you all about it.” Sirius promised, patting Remus’s shoulder.
“After I’ve had that drink.”

o-O-o

*24**th* *November 1994*

Harry was going to throw up.

He stared at his pale image in the bathroom mirror and swallowed hard.

He shouldn’t have had lunch although he wasn’t entirely certain that the two
slices of bread and butter he’d managed to bolt down counted enough to warrant
being called lunch.

“Harry?” Sirius knocked softly on the doorjamb and caught Harry’s panicked
eyes in the mirror. He immediately moved into the bathroom, resting his hands
on Harry’s shoulders and squeezing gently.

“I’m going to throw up and embarrass myself.” Harry muttered. He tried another
deep breath and let Sirius’s warm hand on his back soothe him.

Sirius stayed silent as Harry got his nerves under control. He didn’t try to
give him meaningless reassurances or platitudes. They both knew Harry had to
go and face a dragon; had to go and compete; had to make it look like he
wasn’t scared because to do less would be to give Voldemort the win.

Harry turned away from the mirror and leaned back against the sink as he
lifted his glasses momentarily to rub his eyes. He dragged a hand through his
already ruffled hair. “How long do we have before I have to go to the tent?”

“We need to leave in the next fifteen minutes.” Sirius sat down on the edge of
the bath. “Your friends are waiting for you downstairs. They want to walk out
with you.”

Harry nodded. They’d discussed it that morning during History of Magic. He was
slightly wary of walking out holding Hermione’s hand but the media storm about
their relationship had died down with the escalation of excitement ahead of
the first task. He worried someone would try something but Hermione was
adamant that she wasn’t letting Jessica’s horrible attack on her interfere
with them, and Harry knew Sirius intended escorting her to the stands.

He smoothed a hand over the thick robe he wore over thick canvas trousers and
a black top. The robe was made of muggle fire-resistant material — even the
crests on the front — and would hopefully keep him safe. He knew Sirius had
commissioned it as soon as they’d become aware that he’d face a dragon. His
boots were combat boots that Sirius had bought specially for him.

“You look good.” Sirius said.

“I wish I could wear my invisibility cloak.” Harry confessed with chagrin. The
rules were clear that the Champions could only begin the task with one magical
item; their wand.

Sirius hummed. “You have your plans sorted?”

They’d sketched out ways to deal with each dragon and Harry had to admit that
it was good to have the knowledge in his mind before racing off to do battle.
It felt unusual but good. Still, a part of him was waiting for the other shoe
to drop because they really had no idea what the task entailed beyond facing a
dragon.

“I’m set.” Harry took a deep breath and pushed off the sink. He held a hand
out for Sirius who raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not that decrepit.” Sirius declared but he took the hand.

Harry gave an indistinct murmur. It hadn’t quite escaped his notice that
Sirius had come back bruised after his escapade into the crypt in London. It
also hadn’t escaped his notice that the physical wounds weren’t as bad as the
emotional. Sirius had told him about the conversation with Peter and it would
take a long time before Harry would be able to shake the memory of how much
pain had shimmered in Sirius’s eyes. He was also shocked that Peter might have
been trying to help them with the whole hinting about the ritual.

Peter aside, the trip to the crypt had led to the team saving Cindy Summers.
She was still pregnant if in the same drugged coma as Winky. The theory was
that Voldemort had her stashed away as a spare for the amniotic fluid. Snape
had started working on identifying what potion had been used but the general
consensus from everyone was that it was going to take time.

The other general consensus was that Voldemort and company were likely in
London somewhere. That sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. The thought that they
were that close to so many people… Voldemort could do a lot of damage.

Still, Moody had been absolutely terrifying about security for the first task
which Harry appreciated. The grounds were being patrolled by Aurors; the
public was allowed nowhere near to the school, only to the stands and a large
refreshment tent set up by the Lake, and then only if they had a named ticket.
The school itself was on lockdown with all access restricted through the main
doors. The likelihood of Voldemort gaining entry was miniscule.

Harry took another deep breath as he reached the bottom of the stairs and
opened his arms for Hermione to hug him. He spent a good minute just
appreciating the feel of her holding him just as tightly as he was holding her
before they both inched away, hands sliding into a familiar hold.

They’d agreed to wait for their first date for their kiss.

It was something that Harry swung from thinking was a good idea (he did want
it to be special and memorable for the right reasons) to thinking it was a bad
idea (mostly because he was worried he was going to screw up and he just
wanted to get it over and done with, and partly because he wanted to kiss
Hermione).

“You look good.” Neville offered by way of greeting.

“Very scary.” Ron said.

“I don’t think the dragon is going to be scared.” Harry replied.

Sirius adjusted his own smart black robes and gestured for them to start
moving. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get going.”

They trooped out of the quarters and down the stairs, through the corridors
and through the main entrance out into the cold wintery day.

It was sunny; a blue almost cloudless sky stretched overhead with the thin
November sunshine lighting everything up brightly but doing nothing to counter
the chill.

Harry ignored the flash of a camera and focused on striding purposefully
towards the contestants’ tent. He glanced over at the stands filled with the
rest of the school and the public; at the arena that had been created in front
of the Lake, the dragon pens backing onto the Forbidden Forest where they had
been hidden for days. He caught sight of the judge’s platform set to the side
with the best view.

“Harry!” Bagman grinned at him with evident relief. “Good! We have all of our
contestants.”

Harry waved at Viktor, Fleur and Cedric gathered in a small semi-circle in
front of Bagman.

Bagman registered that Harry wasn’t alone and gave a false wince. “Lord Black,
I’m afraid you and the students will have to go to the stands now.”

Sirius gave a nod of acknowledgement. Regardless of Harry’s minor status he
wasn’t allowed to be in a position to give Harry advice on the task once it
was revealed. Harry didn’t protest the brief hug Sirius pulled him into, and a
hundred things crowded at the back of his throat.

“Good luck.” Sirius said softly. “Do your best but I want you back alive, so
unnecessary risks, OK?”

Harry couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat and settled for nodding.

Hermione sprang forward when Sirius released him. She gave him another
lightening hug. “Don’t forget; you’re a great wizard.” She whispered in his
ear.

Ron and Neville settled for manly handshakes and pats on the back along with
their expressed wishes of good luck, and within moments Harry found himself
standing alone. He shifted around Bagman to stand beside Viktor.

“Right!” Bagman clapped his hands and grinned at them. ‘The first task is
difficult but I’m sure you’ll all do well.’ He reached into a pocket and
pulled out a cloth bag. “In here I have four small figurines of the creatures
you’ll be facing. You’ll each go in turn and draw a figurine out of the bag
and then I’ll fill you in on the rest.”

He shoved the bag towards Viktor.

“Harry should go first.” Viktor said firmly. “He is youngest.”

“I agree.” Fleur said in heavily accented French.

“Me too.” Cedric hurriedly said.

Bagman’s face fell. “Unfortunately, that’s not possible. We have to go in the
order the Goblet drew your names.”

“It’s fine.” Harry said quickly. “I don’t mind.”

Viktor gave a harrumph of disapproval at the decision, but reached into the
bag. He pulled out the small figurine of the Welsh Green. Harry fought to keep
the disappointment off his face because he’d wanted the Welsh Green. It was by
far the most placid of the dragons.

Fleur was next and her hand opened to reveal the Hungarian Horntail. A small
frown marred her face and Harry couldn’t blame her for her consternation. The
Horntail was considered to be the most dangerous.

Cedric’s face showed his relief at not getting the Horntail as he reached into
the bag and drew out a tiny Swedish Short-Snout.

Harry took the last figurine of the Chinese Fireball. It was the second most
dangerous of the dragon types but the one best suited to his strengths.
Red-scaled, lean and with a ferocious flame, it was deadly on the ground but
had problems flying with its wings mainly for show. It was the one most
closely related to a serpent compared to the other dragons who fell more into
the lizard family as distant cousins.

Bagman ignored the lack of shock and horror, or maybe he put their lack of
reaction down to deep shock. Harry shook himself as Bagman cleared his throat.

“So, the first task will be to get past the dragon and steal as many of the
eggs in the nests they are protecting, moving them to another location within
the arena. Contestants will be scored on ingenuity, spell-work and the number
of eggs successfully collected. The more eggs you get the more clues you will
receive for the next task.”

Harry stared at Bagman, unsure that he had heard correctly.

“You vant us to steal the eggs of a movver dragon?” Viktor asked incredulous.

“Eet is barbaric!” Fleur tossed her blonde hair back as she glowered at
Bagman.

“Want is not the right word.” Bagman said, losing some of his false bonhomie.
“This is the task that we’ve been given to do.”

Right, thought Harry sourly; this was the task Voldemort had set so of course
it was barbaric and cruel.

“You’ll each receive one hour to complete the task. Viktor will go first, and
then Fleur, Cedric, and of course, Harry, last but by no means least.” Bagman
recovered enough to smile at them all. “You cannot watch the others before
you, you cannot confer on the task, and you will need to remain in the tent
until I come for you. There is a magical barrier above the arena which will
prevent anyone in the stands from helping you. Any questions?”

They all shook their heads. Harry’s heart was sinking; he had to wait three
hours?!

“Well,” Bagman pointed towards the tent flap, “Viktor, shall we?”

Viktor straightened his shoulders, a grim expression on his face as he strode
out. Bagman sauntered out in his wake.

Fleur made for the wooden chairs that had been set out at the back of the
tent. “Mon Dieu!”

“You can say that again.” Cedric said, wandering over to sit beside her.

Harry followed him for want of a better plan and sat on the other side of
Fleur. “What are we supposed to do while we wait?”

“That’s a good question.” Cedric said. “They could have provided a deck of
cards or something.”

“Perhaps we are meant to spend the time devising our strategy?” Fleur mused,
flipping her hair back.

“It doesn’t seem fair to you and Viktor if that’s the case,” Cedric said,
“you’d get a lot less time to plan than Harry or me.”

Fleur gave a Gallic shrug. “I do not want to talk about eet. Let us talk of
somezing else.” She rapped her fingers on her thigh and shifted her gaze to
Harry. “You know Beel?”

“Beel?” Harry repeated before sorting out the accent in his head. ‘Oh, you
mean Bill.’ He got a sinking sensation. “Uh, yes? He’s Ron’s brother and he’s
in service to the House of Potter.”

“He is…” Fleur sighed in a dramatic heartfelt way that had Harry seeking
Cedric’s gaze frantically only to get a ‘I know it’s horrifying’ look back,
“wonderful. Non?”

“Non, I mean, yes.” Harry stumbled over his reply and nudged his glasses back
up his nose. “Uh, he has a girlfriend?”

Fleur frowned heavily, her eyes giving away her evident disappointment at the
news. “The woman who works with him ’ere?”

“No, that’s Caro; she’s just his work partner.” Harry explained. “His
girlfriend is Alicia Doge. They’ve been going out a while.”

“Eet is a shame.” Fleur sighed again. “I was so sure. He ’ardly felt the
effect of my allure.”

“Is that important to a Veela?” Cedric asked, curiosity getting the best of
him.

“Oui,” Fleur said dramatically, “eet is important to know if your lover loves
you and is not enthralled, non? That eet is real.”

Harry understood her point. He had rigidly stuck to his belief that it was
important for his girlfriend to like him as Harry rather than as the Boy Who
Lived or Lord Potter or whatever title they were sticking him with that week.
He was so glad he had Hermione.

“Yeah,” Cedric sighed, “sometimes I wonder if Cho only likes me as a boyfriend
since I became a Champion. Our practice date was a bit awkward.”

Harry cast about desperately for another subject. “Why don’t we play I Spy?”

“I Spy?” Fleur perked up with interest. “I have never played eet it before.”

Teaching wizards how to play the muggle game of I Spy kept them busy until
Bagman returned to collect Fleur for her turn. Cedric and Harry wished her
luck before retreating back to their chairs awkwardly.

Cedric cleared his throat. “What do you think about the news that Richard
Gosforth is retiring from international Quidditch?”

Harry sent him a grateful look and they discussed Quidditch until Cedric
begged off to think about his strategy until Bagman turned up for him.

It wasn’t long before Harry was alone. He wondered how the others had fared.
He felt cut off from the real world in the bubble of the contestants’ tent. He
didn’t know if the others had managed to get any eggs, if they’d gotten hurt,
or how well they’d scored.

Maybe that was a good thing, Harry considered thoughtfully. He should
concentrate on his own performance and not worry about theirs. He turned over
the strategy he’d worked out for the Chinese Fireball in his head.

Flying had been a central component. He’d figured he could summon his Firebolt
and take to the air to get past the dragon. It was still a possibility but
grabbing an egg from a nest would be tricky, then there was manoeuvring on the
broom carrying a dragon’s egg with an angry dragon trying to get to him. He
knew his flying skills were good but Chinese Fireballs had a hell of a flame
and they were smart and clever.

His back-up plan was weather related. The Chinese Fireball liked the heat and
hated the cold. It was a good day for his back-up plan. There was already a
chill in the air; he could work on that. If he made the Fireball cold and
lethargic, he could disable it.

He bit his lip. What if he injured her giving her hypothermia? What if she
died?

No… he wouldn’t let that happen, but a dragon was too dangerous to leave
capable of thinking and moving for his task.

There had to be a better way.

Bagman entered the tent and Harry’s heart seized for a moment in his chest.
Had it already been an hour?

“Your turn now, Harry?” Bagman said. “You, uh, you do have a plan?”

Harry looked at him guardedly. “Of course, Mister Bagman.”

“Splendid!” Bagman beamed, his toothpaste smile even whiter up close. “Just
through here…” They went through a long canvas tunnel and out onto a platform
overlooking the arena.

And suddenly, the noise was deafening.

The arena was a square shape, not unlike a Quidditch pitch, but there was a
pit below in the middle which had been transformed with grey rock and boulders
to create a forbidding environment, like the sharp jagged landscape that Harry
had once seen in a photo of a volcano. A large gate on the opposite side gave
away the method of how they got the dragon into the pit. The Chinese Fireball
was already present on the right of the arena under the Hogwarts’ stand,
chained but sinuously curled around its rocky nest filled with four crimson
gold-speckled eggs. It was snarling at the noise, protective of its young.

Harry gulped down air and looked up instead into the stands.

He caught sight of the Gryffindors, ranged together with banners of support
for him — but there were other signs in the other Houses; one prominent in
Slytherin that Harry knew belonged to Theo and the Slytherins allied to the
House of Black, another in Hufflepuff where Susan and Hannah stood, and one
that glittered in Ravenclaw that belonged to Luna. The banners were duplicated
in the public stands that curved behind him. There was a VIP box and he
identified Cornelius and Arthur before he tore his gaze away.

He took a calming breath as he realised Bagman was doing a formal
announcement, explaining he had to get the eggs over to an area marked by a
small flag on the left under the Champions’ stand which included the remaining
visiting students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

He searched out the faces he wanted to see: Sirius, gazing at him fiercely
from the Champions box in the public stands, Remus beside him looking worried,
Hermione between them with Ron and Neville close to the railing by Remus. His
friends spotted him looking and waved to him, clapping and cheering. Sirius
placed both hands on the railing, leaning forward, and across the distance of
the arena their eyes met.

Something inside Harry eased and he gave a slow nod to Sirius.

He was ready.

“Enter the arena, Harry Potter! Your time starts now!” Bagman announced.

Harry walked slowly to the small gate that stood between him and the pit. He
opened it and followed the rocky path down until he was stood in a crevice
that looked out at the arena.

The issue of the eggs complicated things, Harry mused. He considered simply
making his way out to the flag and summoning the eggs — the advanced charm
Flitwick had taught him would work but… he would have to catch the eggs
without breaking them and he didn’t trust that the dragon wouldn’t charge him
down if he tried such an approach. No, he was better sticking with his
original idea; disable the dragon and then he would worry about the eggs.

He changed position, easing out from behind the wall and the dragon
immediately swivelled to stare in Harry’s direction; the ruff of golden spikes
erect as she sensed danger.

Harry pointed his wand skyward and opened up his full power. “Frigus Ventus!”

For a second, nothing happened but then…

A freezing wind erupted from his wand in a gust that pushed him backwards into
the hard rock. He put his free hand out to steady himself and forced his hand
to direct his wand where he wanted it; in the direction of the dragon.

The Fireball gave a tremendous roar as the cold hit her. She shook herself as
she uncurled, lowered her head and shot out an enormous stream of fire that
dispersed the wind.

Harry dodged back.

His heart was pounding.

It wasn’t working. He had to be closer. Harry’s eyes searched out the rock
around him. He tucked his wand into its holster and grabbed hold of a
protruding edge, levering himself upwards. He focused on climbing, hand hold
followed by foothold, followed by hand hold. Below the dragon paced,
occasionally trying to get to him with her flame but Harry was climbing out of
reach.

He got to the top of the rock formation and ran lightly along the surface
until he was almost near to the edge nearest the dragon. He flattened himself
as a blast of fire shot over his head. He peered over into the pit.

The dragon was on her feet in front of him.

All he had to do was jump down and he would be right in front of her. The only
problem was that it was quite a jump, the rock was just as hard below him, and
it wasn’t like the dragon wasn’t going to notice him jumping. He’d be toast
before he hit the ground.

He needed a distraction.

Harry chewed on his lip as he considered his options. He aimed his wand
towards the other side of the pit. “Animatus!” The boulders there rolled
together and formed a creature that looked a little like a giant dog. It crept
near to the other side of the eggs. Harry immediately pointed his wand back at
his throat. ‘Sonorus!’ He cleared his throat. “*Keep the dragon occupied!*” He
commanded.

The rock-dog immediately lumbered to do Harry’s bidding and the dragon turned
around to meet the new threat.

Harry cancelled the sonorus with an absent-minded thought and directed his
wand at the ground below, casting a cushioning spell non-verbally. He didn’t
want to alert the Fireball to what he was doing. He checked on the dragon and
the rock-dog. They were dancing around each other but the dragon remained with
its back to Harry. Harry quickly wriggled forward, clutched at the edge of the
rock and tried to lower himself down slowly until he was hanging by his
fingertips to the rock, his face smushed into the shale.

He let go.

The rock he fell onto was soft like grass and Harry had taken greater falls in
Quidditch. He rolled as he landed and came up on his feet just in time to see
the dragon burn the rock-dog to dust. He cancelled the cushioning charm on the
ground; he needed a solid surface.

Harry took a deep breath, centred himself and pointed his wand again. “Frigus
Maximus!” He yelled.

The startled dragon whirled around in a shimmer of red and opened her mouth,
roaring with anger as she received the full blast of Harry’s spell in her
face; a stream of white light pouring forth from the holly wand.

The dragon backed away a step, spreading her small wings to protect her eggs
from the cold. She opened her mouth and a stream of fire poured out to push
the spell away.

Red met white in the centre of the confrontation.

Harry skidded back a few feet but he kept his balance. He gritted his teeth
and locked his arm; pushing with all his magical power.

Slowly, slowly, his magic overcame the dragon’s fire.

Inch by inch, the white light of the spell gained ground over the fire.

With a sudden rush, his magic extinguished the dragon’s fire and swiftly
enveloped the Fireball in a white light. The dragon gave a mournful cry and
staggered under the cold blanketing her everywhere, as ice formed over her
scales, zig-zagging across her skin in a crazy crystalline fashion. She took a
haltering side-step and collapsed, unconscious with a thump.

Harry sucked in a needed breath and slowly lowered his aching arm, his eyes
never left the dragon. She was down and she wasn’t getting up.

He became dimly aware of the crowds’ cheers around him but blanked them out to
focus on his task, walking on unsteady legs to the nest of dragon eggs. He
continued to give the Fireball a wide berth as he climbed up the rock and got
a good look at the eggs.

The rock was warm beneath them, Harry realised. He shrugged out of his robe,
placing it on the ground and quickly spelling a warming charm on it. He
carefully levitated the eggs and bundled them up so they were protected by the
folds of the robe from knocking into each other.

He cast a quick look at the dragon. She was beginning to stir. Maybe he could
apparate… but no; Harry dismissed the idea swiftly. Sirius had taught him the
theory of how to do so in an emergency but Harry wasn’t all that well
practiced and he would probably break the eggs if he attempted it. He was
going to have to do it the hard way.

He hurriedly levitated the robe and its precious contents and began to run
over the rocky ground, slipping and sliding with his cargo floating safely
behind him. He reached the flag and set the robe down gently, breathing
heavily, a stitch in his side from his frantic run. He heated the rock up
beneath him and levitated the eggs out of his robe until they were safely
arranged.

“Will you look at that?” Bagman’s voice boomed out over the arena. “Our
youngest competitor has completed the task successfully with all eggs intact!
Well done, Harry!”

And suddenly he could hear everything over the beat of his heart and his every
breath. The noise was deafening; a cheering wall of applause and whistles.

o-O-o

Sirius gave a relieved sigh and clapped enthusiastically as Harry lifted a
hand to wave weakly at the astounded crowd.

It was over.

Thank Merlin.

Remus gripped Sirius’s shoulders from behind him. “He was brilliant, Sirius.
Really brilliant.”

Sirius wasn’t going to argue. Harry had been brilliant, although he had almost
given Sirius a heart attack when he’d jumped down behind the dragon. He’d been
so close to it!

Around him the rest of the House of Black celebrated. Hermione, Ron and
Neville were spinning each other around, jumping up and down with excitement.
Andromeda had her face still buried in Ted’s shoulder. The Malfoys had settled
for polite clapping but Sirius caught Lucius sending a smug smirk in the
direction of Amos Diggory.

Sirius kept his own gaze on his son. He watched as Harry picked up his robe
and started back towards the path up to the contestants’ gate.

And Sirius finally started to relax. The Fireball was still down; all Harry
had to do was to leave.

“I’ve never seen such a masterful display of raw power.” Ted murmured.

Sirius grinned and turned to reply.

A ferocious roar ripped through the noise of the crowd, silencing everyone and
freezing Harry mid-step in the middle of the arena.

Sirius looked hurriedly towards the Fireball but it was only just stirring.

Another roar filled the air. The large gate to the dragons’ pens shook under a
huge thump and then splintered into bits as it gave under the weight of an
enraged dragon.

The Hungarian Horntail stalked into the arena, her green scales glimmering in
the weak sunlight, her spikes sharp and glittering.

The Horntail was loose!

And Harry was right in front of it.

Pandemonium spread over the watching crowd as panic took hold; shrieks and
shouts echoed around the arena.

“HARRY!” Sirius screamed. He raised his wand to fire at the Horntail.

Remus grabbed him roughly. “You can’t help him! The magical barrier won’t let
anything through!”

Sirius’s heart leaped into his throat as Harry began to run for the path and
safety, only to have to dive to the side as a long stream of fire erupted from
the dragon. Hermione screamed beside Sirius, her hands flying up to cover her
face. He only breathed out as Harry threw himself behind a large boulder.

“I have to help him!” Sirius declared, turning for the exit. He could get into
the arena through the contestants’ gate.

“I’m coming with you!” Remus said hurriedly.

“Me too!” Ron said, determination written all over his pale freckled face.

Andromeda caught hold of Ron and moved to block Hermione and Neville. “You
kids are staying here.”

Sirius didn’t wait to see if she was successful, just trusted that she would
take care of keeping the kids out of danger. He ran from the box, Remus at his
heels.

Harry needed him.

Ensuring Pronglet Survives: Chapter 7
=====================================

Harry’s heart thundered in his chest and his breath rasped sharply in his
throat as he tried to make himself smaller behind the boulder he’d managed to
find for cover.

He peeked out.

The Horntail was stomping further into the arena. She was furious, her
viciously spiked tail lashing out.

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm.

The eggs!

He threw his arm out, wand in his hand, and cast a shield hurriedly over them
just as the tail came down with a crash.

Harry breathed out in relief as the tail lifted to reveal the intact eggs. His
shield had worked.

On the other side of the arena, the Fireball roared, recognising the new
threat to her eggs. She caught the Horntail’s attention. Another fierce cry
rang out, this time directed at the Fireball as the Horntail challenged her.
The Fireball answered it furiously, getting to her feet and shaking off the
remnants of ice clinging to her scales. The Horntail lowered her head and
attacked.

Harry looked around anxiously, assessing the situation breathlessly. He was
stuck. There was open ground between him, the dragons and his path out of the
arena. They might be distracted while they were fighting but he wasn’t certain
he wanted to take the risk of them both spotting him and deciding to gang up
on him instead of battling each other. But there was the problem of what was
going to happen once the battle was over.

There was better cover behind the flag where the flat of the rock sheared away
providing a roof of sorts to a dip below. If he could get there…

He checked on the dragons.

The Fireball was at a disadvantage, chained and befuddled from the cold spell
Harry had used, but she was lithe and using her greater manoeuvrability to
avoid the worst of the Horntail’s swipes and hits. She was also using the
former nest as cover occasionally, picking up shards and loose rock to throw
at the Horntail in between sending jets of fierce fire towards the other
dragon. The Horntail lashed out with one wing and the Fireball in avoiding it
ran straight into the Horntail’s tail. She flew backwards, her chain breaking
with a snap as she landed on her side with a massive smack on the nest.

She didn’t get up.

The Horntail roared her victory.

Harry’s eyes fell on his robe lying on the ground. He wet his lips, a plan
forming in his head. He mouthed the spell quietly; the robe rose from the
ground as though pulled by invisible ropes to spin in mid-air. Another spell
had it growing rapidly spreading out to provide a wide curtain between him and
the Horntail.

He ran.

He was almost at the eggs when the sound of ripping fabric had him glancing
behind to see the Horntail rending the robe to pieces with its claws. She
tossed the remains to the side as she stormed forward and Harry knew he didn’t
have time to get under cover.

He threw up a shield as the Horntail slapped a massive foreleg down on him. He
blinked as the foot stopped bare inches from his body. He rolled out as the
dragon lifted her leg again and hurriedly threw up another shield as the leg
came down again; the tail landing close enough to the side of him that the
rock beneath shook. He absently noticed the Fireball regaining her feet on the
other side of the arena.

He was reminded how the Fireball had used the rocks around to pound on the
Horntail and he pointed his wand at the wall of rock behind and with a rushed
spell lobbed a chunk of rock at the Horntail.

The jagged boulder of black granite hit the Horntail in the face, whipping her
head back painfully, and she yowled in pain.

Harry scrabbled backwards, careful of the eggs close behind him. He flicked
his wand and sent another barrage of rocks and debris at the Horntail.

The Horntail batted them away though. She snarled through the green blood
dripping down her face where Harry had wounded her and lashed out with her
right wing, Harry could see the tail already in motion to hit him if he darted
out of the way of the wing. And if he moved, the eggs were going to be
smashed. He hastily threw up another shield, barely aware that it shimmered
with gold and silver.

The wing descended…

The Horntail’s mouth opened to deliver a devastating blast…

“Arrestus!” Harry pointed his wand and pushed the rest of his power into the
spell.

The Horntail froze.

And a rock smashed down on the Horntail’s head; once, twice, three times.

The Horntail crumpled into a bloody heap, its head caved in.

The Fireball stood behind it, the large rock clutched in one claw. She dropped
it and the broken chain around its leg scraped along the ground.

For a terrifying second, the Fireball bristled, the golden spikes around its
head erect. Harry kept still, his heart stampeding in his heart; he couldn’t
breathe, didn’t dare.

And their eyes met.

There was pain in the Fireball’s gaze and something else; an intelligence that
seemed to judge Harry in every way.

Harry swallowed hard, desperately trying to think of anything that would work.
The image of Merlin talking to the dragons in the play he had seen over the
Summer flashed through his head and Harry latched onto it. “*Please…*” he
whispered, unaware the word had hissed out in Parseltongue.

The dragon cocked her head.

“*Please.*” Harry whispered again. “*Let me go. Your eggs are safe. I
protected them and I would never hurt them, I promise.*”

Her green-slitted eyes shifted to the intact eggs. She sniffed at her young.
Slowly, the Fireball’s ruff sank back to lie flat. She gave a snort and sank
back on her haunches.

Harry moved slowly, not entirely sure she wouldn’t attack him still despite
apparently doing what he had asked. He carefully got to his feet and sidled
away. The Fireball didn’t look at him; she crept into the space Harry had
vacated and curled protectively around her eggs. Harry stumbled around the
massive body of the Horntail, hurrying as fast as he could to the path. He
fell a couple of times, his legs shaky and weak, but he scrambled back up each
time.

At the gate, he wasn’t surprised to see Sirius on the other side waiting for
him, Remus not far behind. Sirius opened the small wooden door and Harry all
but fell against him.

Sirius clutched Harry tightly to him. Harry tucked his head against Sirius and
breathed.

He was safe.

Bagman was announcing something.

Harry didn’t care. He tightened his grip on Sirius, his scratched-up hands
fisting in the material of Sirius’s robes. He felt Sirius rub his back, small
circles of warmth as Harry shook. There was another hand on his shoulder
providing a comforting grounding anchor; Remus.

“Come on, Pronglet.” Sirius said quietly. “Let’s get you to the infirmary
tent.”

He didn’t release his hold on Harry though, and Harry figured Padfoot was
waiting on him to move. He slowly convinced his fingers to let go, one at a
time. He pushed weakly on Sirius’s chest and Sirius helped steady him as he
got upright.

Sirius slid an arm around his waist. “Do you think you can walk?”

Harry nodded quickly but Remus moved to his other side and braced between the
two of them he found it wasn’t a lie. He could walk although their progress
was slow.

Everything hurt.

His arms ached; his hands stung where they were scraped; his legs were sore
from the climb and the fall and the stumbles.

Madame Pomfrey met them at the flap of tent. “Goodness, look at you! I’m
afraid you’re stuck with me; Doctor Jordan is out at the dragon pens healing
the injured from that dangerous Horntail.” She sniffed. “Dragons! What were
they thinking?!”

She chivvied them towards a bed and Harry climbed up and endured the
diagnostics with a pained grimace as Sirius hovered beside him; Remus at the
end of the bed.

He glanced around. Fleur was curled up in another bed at the far side of the
tent; her shoulder was heavily bandaged. An attractive older woman with blonde
hair, a distinguished looking man, and a young girl who looked like a
miniature Fleur were gathered around her. Her family, Harry guessed.

“What happened to Fleur?” he asked worriedly. She’d faced the Horntail.

“When they were bringing the Horntail into the arena, one of the eggs was
dropped and destroyed.” Remus explained. ‘The Horntail was enraged before Miss
Delacour even entered the arena.’ He sighed. “She actually did very well. She
hit it with a strong sleep spell, had a similar idea to you with the robe to
carry the eggs only… the Horntail woke up before she got more than a few steps
away from the original nest. It attacked her and the rest of its eggs were
destroyed.”

“They had to send half a dozen dragon handlers in to subdue it and get Miss
Delacour out.” Sirius added. “How the hell did it get free to go on the
rampage?”

“A good question.” Remus stated dryly.

There was the sound of running feet and Cedric and Viktor both entered. Viktor
looked unharmed beyond a strapped-up wrist but Cedric was covered in pink
burns paste all over one side of his face.

Pomfrey tutted loudly. “What did I tell you about leaving the tent, Mister
Diggory?” She pointed at the bed between Harry and Fleur.

“I snuck out to watch you.” Cedric said to Harry as he hurried to sit where
she was pointing. “You were just…”

“Incredible.” Viktor said gruffly. “Your strategy vas excellent.”

Harry shrugged despite the praise making him smile. “How did you both go?”

Viktor frowned heavily. “I used Conjunctivitis Curse but I vas only able to
get two eggs as the dragon destroyed the others when she staggered into them.”

The curse caused great pain in the eyes and Harry tried not to let his
disapproval at deliberately hurting the dragon and causing her to hurt her own
eggs show. It could be argued that he had hurt the Fireball just as much,
freezing her half to death.

“What about you, Cedric?” Harry asked.

Cedric gave a pained smile. “I summoned my broomstick to fly around it. I
managed to get one egg but… it caught me full blast with fire on the second
run and that was me out of it.” He winced and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m going to need a new broom too. Mine’s ash now.”

Harry grimaced. He remembered how he’d felt when the Whomping Willow had
battered his first broomstick. It had been a loss. He loved his current
broomstick though, mostly because it was his first ever present from Sirius.
He was suddenly very glad he had decided not to fly.

“Vou are in lead.” Viktor said disgruntled.

“The judges awarded you thirty-five points and you got tens from Bagman and
Professor Dumbledore.” Cedric expanded. “Madame Maxime gave you a nine and
Karkaroff gave you a six.”

“Karkaroff is blatantly biased.” Remus said with an apologetic look at Viktor.
“He gave Cedric three points and Fleur a zero.”

Viktor nodded in agreement though. “I did not deserve nine.”

“What are your overall scores?” asked Harry as Pomfrey started to wave her
wand over his hands, healing up the scratches.

“Fleur has sixteen. Maxime gave her a six, Dumbledore a five and Bagman
another five, and you know Karkaroff’s score.” Cedric recited. “I had all
sevens except for Karkaroff so I’m on twenty-four.”

“I have thirty-three.” Viktor said brusquely.

It was a high score but Harry appreciated that Viktor’s competitiveness
demanded perfection and he hadn’t attained it. Harry squirmed under Pomfrey’s
fussing over the bruises on his legs.

Remus patted Harry on the shoulder. “I’m going to tell everyone you’re fine.
I’ll see you in your rooms later for the celebration.”

Sirius caught hold of Remus before he left. “Find Moody and ask what the hell
went down with that Horntail, will you?”

“Definitely.” Remus answered.

Harry felt some of the strain ease out of his arms and shoulders as Pomfrey
healed them.

“We’re done here, Lord Potter. You’re free to leave but I highly recommend not
using your magic for a day and resting.” Pomfrey said. She bustled into the
back of the tent which was cordoned off.

Harry slid off the bed and he was pleased that his legs held up better than
they had when they’d come out of the arena.

“Ah, there you all are!” Bagman grinned and gave them a brief round of
applause that drew disapproving looks from the Delacours. Harry didn’t blame
them.

“Fantastic performances today, boys!” Bagman said brightly. “Really, really
fantastic start to the competition.”

Harry, Cedric and Viktor all exchanged a disbelieving look.

“Now, clues for the next task!” Bagman continued chirpily, paying them little
attention. He raised a black velvet bag and delved inside. “This one is for
you, Cedric. One clue for one egg.” He handed Cedric a small golden egg.

It reminded Harry of the small Cadbury Crème eggs that Dudley always scoffed
at Easter.

Bagman rooted around the bag again and handed Viktor a larger egg about the
size of a normal chocolate Easter egg. Dudley usually had several whereas
Harry had never received one from the Dursleys. “Two clues for you, Viktor.”

“And for you, Harry,” Bagman reached into the bag and improbably brought out a
large gold egg, ‘you get all four clues.’ He straightened. “Now, you’re not
allowed to confer or share clues before the next task which will be held on
February twenty-fourth!” He gave another smarmy smile and left.

“I should go back to ship.” Viktor bowed at Cedric and Harry, departing
briskly with no other fanfare.

Cedric sighed and subsided onto the bed. Harry wondered where his parents
were; he knew if he was as injured as Cedric Sirius would be hovering… just
like he was hovering right at that moment.

“You going to be OK here, Ced?” Harry asked, holding tightly to his egg as
Sirius wrapped an arm around him. He wanted to protest but he knew Sirius
probably needed the reassurance that Harry was OK.

“Yeah, I only have to stay another hour.” Cedric confirmed. “Then I’ll be all
fixed. No scars which will be good because I think Cho would probably dump me
if I had scars, and she definitely wouldn’t go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Harry froze. “Yule Ball? What Yule Ball?”

o-O-o

“I can’t dance!” Harry declared, looking more panicked than he had facing off
against a dragon with nothing more than his wand. “I’m terrible! Ask Andy!”

Sirius made a comforting cluck as he directed Harry up a flight of stairs
towards the tower. Harry had apparently missed everything Bagman had announced
including the news that there was an official tournament ball. He understood
some of Harry’s consternation; there hadn’t been time in Harry’s etiquette
lessons for polishing Harry’s dancing skills that much was true.

“We can teach you enough to get by over the next couple of weeks. It’ll be
fine.” He gave a comforting squeeze since he’d wrapped his arm around his son
on leaving the infirmary tent and hadn’t let go as they walked back through
the school to their quarters. “At least you don’t have to worry about who to
ask.”

“Oh Merln!” Harry clapped one hand to his forehead almost dropping his egg. “I
have to ask Hermione!”

“Well, I assume you want to ask her…” Sirius murmured, wondering why Harry was
so bothered about it.

“Of course I want to ask her but…” Harry sighed wearily. “We’re going on our
first date on Saturday and I spent a really, really long time coming up with
something special. Now, I have to figure out something for asking her to the
ball too! And then there’s…”

He went so violently red that Sirius worried it was a reaction to the dragon
fight for a moment before Harry mumbled something about kissing. And yeah,
Sirius wasn’t touching that subject with a ten foot pole unless Harry
specifically asked for advice.

“Look,” Sirius said firmly, ‘you’ve had a busy day,’ *understatement of the
century*, “we have quarters full of your friends waiting to congratulate you
for successfully completing the task and, you know, *not dying* with the whole
thing with the Horntail so…” he made a vague gesture, “worry about this
*tomorrow*.”

“Tomorrow.” Harry nodded briskly. “Right.”

They were almost at the portrait. Sirius gave the password and it swung open,
the babble from the waiting group of friends and family. He gave Harry a nudge
forward and followed him.

There was an immediate outbreak of applause, whistling and cheering at Harry’s
entry.

Sirius plucked the egg out of Harry’s hands as Hermione rushed over and hugged
Harry hard enough that Sirius was pleased that Pomfrey had seen to Harry’s
bruises before he’d seen her.

“Oh God, Harry, that was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen!” Hermione
said, low enough that her voice didn’t carry to the rest of the room, but
Sirius was close enough to catch it as he safely placed the egg on the table.

Harry patted her back consolingly. “The basilisk was worse.”

His matter-of-fact tone brought Hermione back to herself and she moved back to
consider him with an arched eyebrow.

“The basilisk bit me,” Harry pointed out, “I almost died.”

“The Horntail did kind of stomp on you, mate.” Ron piped up, moving forward to
slap Harry on the shoulder.

“Shield.” Harry replied. “I had a shield. I was fine.” But there was a flush
of red on his neck that gave away his own fear that he might not have
survived.

Or maybe Sirius was projecting.

“You were brilliant with the Fireball.” Neville beamed at him.

Harry grinned back at him. “How much did you win in Blaise’s pool?”

“Lots.” Neville said cheerfully.

“Gambling is wrong.” Hermione said sternly. “It can lead to all kinds of
trouble just look at the twins.”

Sirius wondered whether he should investigate as Ron shushed her and darted a
quick look around as though to check his mother wasn’t present. Sirius cleared
his throat and slipped in between the chattering teenagers to gather Harry up.

“Come on.” Sirius said cheerfully. “There are others here who want to say
hello.”

Andromeda approached first as protocol dictated, sweeping Harry out of
Sirius’s loose hold and into a hug of her own. “You were very smart with the
Fireball and frankly I couldn’t watch after the Horntail almost roasted you.”
She leaned back and brushed a hand over the grime on his face. “You need a
bath then bed. You’re exhausted.”

“Madame Pomfrey said no magic for the rest of the day.” Harry said.

“And I suggest you don’t do anything tomorrow either.” Sirius said. ‘Give your
core time to recover.’ He glanced around. “Where’s Ted?”

“There was a report of injured from the Horntail getting loose?” Andromeda
said. “He’s gone to help.”

Sirius surreptitiously inched closer as the Malfoys stood.

Narcissa gave Harry a light hug and kissed his forehead. “You did well, Harry.
I was most impressed.”

“Your performance was most satisfactory.” Lucius didn’t try to offer Harry his
hand or approach him.

There was a frisson of tension remained between Harry and Lucius. Both
appreciated the need to tolerate each other but neither would ever like the
other. Sirius wasn’t too bothered by that since he didn’t think Lucius liked
him much and he definitely didn’t like Lucius either.

Harry smiled humourlessly back at Lucius. “Perhaps I’m finally living up to my
reputation.”

Lucius’s eyes glittered. “Perhaps.” He stroked a hand over the top of his
cane. “I expect to have some interesting conversations over the next few
days.”

Which was good.

If they could convince more of Voldemort’s supporters to abandon him because
Harry was showing them the power of the opposition, it would be less for them
to face in a final showdown.

Harry nodded. “I hope so.”

“Oh, I think there’ll be a number of interesting conversations with that
display of heroics you just performed, Potter.” Draco offered his hand to
Harry who rolled his eyes and shook it with appropriate seriousness. “Do we
know how the Horntail got free to turn up and try to kill you?”

Most of the room looked interested in the answer and Sirius jumped in.

“Remus has gone to investigate.” Sirius said.

Narcissa placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “If you’ll excuse us; Sirius,
Harry. We’re going to walk Draco back to Slytherin and take our leave.”

Draco pulled a face but nodded. “I should get back and confirm you’re still
alive.”

Sirius’s lips twitched as Draco’s dry tone. “Your service to the House of
Black is appreciated, Draco.” He kept his tone light but sincere, and watched
as Draco’s face lit up with the praise. Apparently it was also enough to
warrant an actual real smile from Narcissa. Lucius’s suspicious gaze (as
though he was wondering about Sirius’s motives in praising his son) simply
made Sirius’s day.

“I should go too.” Andromeda said, pulling on her outer robe. “Let Harry get
some rest.”

Almost immediately Harry’s friends surged forward again as Sirius walked the
Tonks’ and the Malfoys out with a brief confirmation that Friday’s family
dinner was still on.

By the time he walked back to the main sitting area, the four kids had
sprawled into one of the sofas and had started rehashing the entire first
task. Dobby was busily providing refreshments.

Sirius snagged a cup of hot chocolate from the elf and took up a watchful pose
in front of the fire.

“Krum was brilliant!” Ron enthused.

Hermione shook her head. “He was cruel. The Conjunctivitis Curse is one of the
most painful curses!”

“I’m not sure I can throw stones seeing as I froze mine half to death.” Harry
muttered, wrapping his hands around his mug.

“Poor Fleur!” Hermione said. “She was doing really well too for a while but
the sleep spell just wasn’t strong enough.”

“Cedric did well until the dragon set his broom alight.” Neville said
diplomatically.

Ron poked Harry. “I thought you were going to summon your broom too, mate?”

“We worked so hard on that plan too.” Hermione sighed, folding her arms,
obviously waiting for an explanation.

“When they said we had to get the eggs it didn’t seem practical.” Harry
explained. “I fumble the Quaffle enough if I have to carry it in practice and
that’s with the spell that makes it sticky, I wasn’t going to risk eggs.”

Hermione sniffed. “Well, you’re very lucky magical fire doesn’t work the same
way as a real fire which uses air as fuel.”

“Weird.” Ron commented.

“It’s also a conjured wind so it doesn’t have the same properties.” Harry said
simply.

Hermione’s face brightened. “Where did you learn that spell anyway?”

“Professor Flitwick assigned me an essay on weather charms.” Harry began to
explain.

Sirius propped an elbow up on the mantelpiece and watched Harry, alive and
well if exhausted and dirty, chatter with his friends.

o-O-o

“Stay still!”

The strident tone of the healer had Remus changing directions. He halted his
search for Moody and made his way to Doctor Jordan. She and Ted Tonks were
surrounded by injured dragon handlers. Most of them looked to have minor
injuries, scrapes and burns, but there was a covered body a few feet away by
the remains of the gate to the arena. The horror of losing one of their own
told on the faces of the waiting men and women.

“Can I help?” Remus asked.

Jordan didn’t look up but continued working. “That’s OK, Mister Lupin. Healer
Tonks and I have it under control.”

Ted looked over briefly but only acknowledged Remus with a brief grim nod
before turning back to his patient.

Remus decided not to argue. The Healers maybe needed to heal the ones they
could after losing a patient. He continued on his way.

He caught sight of the Fireball, drugged and unconscious, being levitated into
its pen by a team of dragon handlers. The Weasley hair was like a banner.
Remus was pleased to see that Charlie was fine. He was about to move away when
Charlie saw him and motioned for him to wait. Remus raised a hand in
acknowledgement and folded his arms as he watched them manoeuvring the dragon.
He shook his head in renewed amazement that Harry had gone up against it one
on one.

It was a few minutes later that Charlie wandered over to him. He looked
exhausted.

“Remus,” Charlie greeted him with a handshake, “how is Harry?”

“Battered and bruised,” Remus said, “but otherwise good.” Better off than the
dragon handlers Remus had seen waiting for treatment.

Charlie winced as though he’d read Remus’s mind anyway. “The Fireball team
were impressed with him especially when he protected the eggs.”

“I couldn’t believe the Fireball just let him go in the end.” Remus admitted.

Charlie tilted his to the side, his eyes darting back to the pen. “They’re
very intelligent creatures despite their reputation of being dumb animals. The
Fireball is one of the oldest species. The theory Karl, the team leader, has
is that the dragon recognised Harry was protecting the eggs and so wasn’t a
threat.” He gave a small sigh. “Tarkin thought Harry talked her into it since
it looked like he said something to her but that’s probably wishful thinking.
I think all of us dragon handlers wish we could talk to them!”

“The Fireball recognising Harry wasn’t a threat seems a reasonable theory to
me.” Remus said. “I was actually looking for Moody to see if he had found out
how the Horntail got loose.”

“We’d all like to know.” Charlie sighed and shook his head. ‘It’s the craziest
thing.’ He motioned at Remus. “The Horntail team is the most experienced.
There is no way they made some kind of mistake.”

“Did you know the handler who died?” Remus asked compassionately.

Charlie nodded. “The Reserve is a small place, you know.” His face crumpled
briefly before he wrestled his grief back. “It’s hit us all pretty hard.”

Remus made a comforting noise. “I should get on and find Moody.”

Charlie pointed to the next pen. “He’s in the Horntail’s pen with the guys
from the Magical Forensic team.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Charlie took a step away, “hey, I was wondering if you can send
Mum a patronus, let her know I’m fine?”

Remus could only imagine Molly’s reaction if she heard one of the handlers had
died and she didn’t know Charlie was fine. He cast his patronus and sent it
off with Charlie’s message.

They headed in different directions and Remus spotted the Horntail’s pen
immediately. The metal railing and gate were melted in some places, mangled in
others. Severus stood by the remains of the entrance and straightened at
Remus’s approach.

“Lupin.” Severus drawled. “This area is off limits.”

Before Remus could reply, Moody’s gruff voice drifted over the railing. “Let
him in Snape.”

Severus glowered at Remus but stood aside.

“Thank you, Severus.” Remus said politely. He had drawn level with the Potions
Professor when Severus cleared his throat.

“I trust Potter is in one piece?” Severus asked casually as though the answer
didn’t matter to him.

“Poppy healed the bumps and bruises he got.” Remus confirmed since he knew
Severus was concerned. “He just needs rest.”

“He performed adequately.” Severus sniffed.

Remus smiled. “High praise from you indeed, Severus.” He hesitated a moment.
“Any luck with Winky or Summers yet?”

Severus stared down his nose at him. “I believe I will know in three weeks
which potion was used. Beyond that…”

“It takes time.” Remus nodded. “I’ll remind Sirius when he gets too
impatient.”

“You will be reminding him frequently then,” Severus said dryly, “to date, he
has contacted me daily for an update.”

Remus sighed. Only Sirius… “I’ll see what I can do.” He promised Severus and
finally walked past the railing and into the pen properly.

Moody waved to him from the back of the large pen. Remus spotted Bertie and
Caro beside him and a large steel pin that was driven into the ground.

Caro straightened as he approached. “Sirius send you to find out what
happened?”

Remus nodded. “Although I am curious to know the answer to that myself.” He
gestured towards the pin. “What have you found?”

“It’s what we haven’t found that’s the key.” Bertie pointed at the empty
ground. “No chain.”

“There’s a faint residue of a banishment charm.” Caro chimed in, wiping away
the sweat from her brow. “I think it was likely timed to coincide with Harry’s
attempt at the task.”

“The feed was drugged too.” Bertie said grimly. “Someone intended for the
Horntail to be enraged.”

Moody harrumphed. “They couldn’t anticipate the eggs getting broken and the
Horntail going feral anyway.”

“She probably only attacked Miss Delacour in the manner she did because she
was under the influence of drugs. It was likely the reason why she didn’t stay
under the sleep spell either.” Bertie sighed. He looked his age for once;
tired and weary. ‘I have to go make a report to Cornelius and Amelia. Whoever
did this was responsible for the death of a dragon handler and attempting to
kill Harry.’ He motioned to Caro. “Keep looking for clues. Maybe our culprit
dropped something.” He sighed. “I’ll check in with Bill. He was going to check
out the arena.”

Caro thinned her lips but applied herself to the task.

Remus grimaced and rubbed his brow. It was no more than they suspected but he
wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news to Sirius.

“How did they get back here?” Remus asked Moody as they walked back to the
mangled gate.

Moody frowned. “Nobody got back here during the last few days. I’d say whoever
it was did the damage while the dragons were still being kept in the Forbidden
Forest.” He huffed impatiently. “The Reserve took responsibility for guard
duty then along with a couple of Aurors they accepted for show mostly. I bet
Amelia’s going to string up her guys’ guts for garters.”

“It is certain then?” Severus said as they reached him. “It was sabotage.”

“Certain as eggs.” Moody said with dark humour.

Severus seemed to fall into quiet contemplation as they walked back towards
the school, taking it slowly to account for Moody’s leg.

“I believe we should consider the possibility that Potter was meant to draw
the Horntail in the competition and therefore the preparations were made to
make his task a true fight for his life.” Severus broke the silence as they
approached the tournament tents.

Remus breathed in sharply. “That’s not a bad theory. Someone should round up
the draw tokens — whatever was used, and examine them.”

Moody stopped and pointed at the contestants’ tent up ahead of them. “Let’s
take a gander then, lads.”

The tent was empty and devoid of anything but a long table and some flimsy
wooden chairs.

Severus sniffed. “There.” He pointed at a side table where all four miniature
dragons lay still.

Moody huffed and cast a standard detection spell. “Nothing.”

“Maybe they couldn’t get access to the tokens and that part of the plan
failed.” Remus suggested. “Otherwise why bother? They couldn’t guarantee that
the Horntail would enter the arena and kill Harry. It could have just rampaged
around the dragon pens.”

“Can’t argue with that, and either way, I thought Riddle wanted the lad alive
at the end of this.” Moody said, gathering up the tokens into a bag for
evidence anyway.

“He will likely have someone else designated as an alternative for the ritual;
one of the other contestants perhaps or the Headmaster or Black.” Severus
stated matter-of-factly. “But there are two possibilities for him making the
task more difficult for Potter: firstly, that he wishes to demonstrate why
Potter was able to defeat him as a child in order to underline his anticipated
final victory over Potter.”

“Strategically that would make sense.” Moody agreed grumpily. “It’d scare off
any pretenders. Look, see how powerful this lad is, he can defeat dragons but
he can’t defeat me… so why would anyone else think they can?”

“Well, that’s horrifyingly logical.” Remus muttered as they left the tent.

“Secondly, this could be a mis-step on the part of Crouch Junior or whichever
of his retinue he sent to interfere.” Severus said. “Perhaps the order was to
make the task more difficult for Potter and the extent was misjudged.”

“And that’s horrifying in an entirely different way.” Remus noted with a sigh.
What was worse that Voldemort had set out to make the task truly
life-threatening or that his minion had made it so accidentally?

They all paused at the front steps where Hagrid was weeping into a large
handkerchief.

“I have to report to Dumbledore.” Moody said swiftly and departed much quicker
than Remus had considered possible with Moody’s bad leg.

“And I should check on the Blood Revelation potion I am brewing.” Severus
followed after Moody leaving Remus alone with Hagrid.

Cowards, thought Remus with some amusement.

“You alright there, Hagrid?” Remus asked gently, moving to sit beside the
half-giant.

Hagrid blew his nose into his handkerchief and shook his head, his bushy beard
quivering. “She was a wonderful dragon.”

Ah, Hagrid was mourning the loss of the creature. Remus didn’t remonstrate him
for focusing on the dragon and not the dragon handler who’d lost his life. He
knew Hagrid probably mourned both but creatures had been Hagrid’s friends and
companions long before any wizards were kind to him.

“She was my fav’rite when I went to look in on ’em in the Forest.” More tears
threatened. “Such beautiful green scales and yellow spikes!”

Remus frowned. “The dragon handlers let you visit?”

“Me an’ most of the other professors who knew.” Hagrid sniffled.

“Hagrid,” Remus asked urgently, “who else visited the dragons that you know
about?”

“Well, now,” Hagrid frowned in concentration, “there was Olympe, uh, Madame
Maxime…” he blushed a violent red, “we might ’ave been walking in the same
direction like.”

“And?” prompted Remus, deciding to ignore the hint about Hagrid’s love life
which was more than he had ever wanted to know about Hagrid’s love life.

“Um, Pomona and Poppy,” Hagrid hummed, “Minnie, Aurora and Septima… oh, and I
think I caught sight of a couple of the Durmstrang lads takin’ a look. They
scarpered pretty quick when they caught sight o’ me.”

Remus’s brow furrowed in thought. It was unlikely that any of the teachers
were suspect but a couple of students… no, teenage boys were not capable of
such sabotage; banishing with a timing element was advanced magic — and he
should know the amount of times the Marauders had tried it on the chairs of
various Professors. But if Crouch Junior and Peter or Travers had polyjuiced
as a couple of teenage lads and put on Durmstrang uniforms would anyone know
they weren’t from the school…? That was a possibility.

Hagrid suddenly focused on Remus. “’ow’s ’arry?”

“Tired but fine.” Remus patted the large man’s shoulder. “I should get back to
him and Sirius.” He headed briskly up the steps and into the castle.

Remus passed by the Fat Lady’s portrait and the sounds of a party drifted out.
The Gryffindors were clearly celebrating the win. Hopefully Harry was there
with them. He bounded into the House of Black’s temporary quarters and frowned
at the absence of anyone in the main living area before striding across to the
study.

Sirius was exactly where Remus expected him to be; sat at his desk. He was
also staring at the blank piece of parchment in front of him as though it held
the answers to the universe.

“Padfoot?” Remus cleared his throat, knocking loudly on the open door.

Sirius’s head jerked up and he waved Remus in.

Remus closed the door behind him. “Harry at the Gryffindor party?”

“Bed.” Sirius said. ‘He started yawning half-way through his cup of chocolate
and made the decision himself to go. Hermione, Ron and Neville said they’d
represent him at the party.’ He gesticulated impatiently. “Well?”

Remus slumped into a nearby chair and filled Sirius in on the various evidence
and theories.

Sirius collapsed back in his chair and glared at the ceiling once Remus was
done. “Never mind Harry, I’m not sure I’m going to survive this tournament,
Moony.”

There wasn’t anything Remus could say to comfort his friend.

“I thought it was bad enough seeing his memories.” Sirius continued. “Because
seeing them reminded me that because I was stupid and in Azkaban I hadn’t been
there for him when he was faced with Voldemort again and a bloody basilisk and
I had failed Harry and failed James…”

“Padfoot.” Remus said softly, his heart tearing because he felt for Sirius but
also felt the same guilt only he had no excuse. He should have been at King’s
Cross waiting for Harry on the first day of his first year… he should have
tracked down Harry’s primary school and checked on him personally…

“And now,” Sirius said as though he hadn’t heard Remus, “now I am in his life
and how much use was I today? None. I still couldn’t bloody help him!” He
raised a hand and massaged his brow.

“Sirius,” Remus sighed, ‘you have helped him.’ He caught Sirius’s eye to
prevent him replying. “Can you imagine what this tournament would have been
like if you hadn’t done everything in your power to adopt Harry this Summer?
If you’d still been on the run?”

Sirius was quiet.

“He would have had none of the political alliances supporting him; none of the
emotional comfort of having you, someone who loves him, present — because
while I know you would have done what you could to be close by, you couldn’t
have been here in the school with him. There wouldn’t have been the security
around the tournament that there is now and he would have been more at risk.”
Remus felt his own stomach churn at the image he was drawing. “And Harry
himself… his power would have been restricted, he would still be taking a
half-hearted approach to studying and he certainly wouldn’t have had the spell
knowledge he needed to face a dragon.”

Sirius lurched out of his chair and paced over to the window at the far side
of the room.

“Just because a magical barrier stood between you jumping in front of a dragon
for him,” Remus said, his throat tight with emotion as he got to his feet and
followed after Sirius, “do not ever say you are useless or haven’t helped him.
Do. Not.”

It was enough to break the last of Sirius’s defences; his head bowed and his
shoulders shook. Remus gathered up his friend and hugged him tightly. Sirius
needed the release of tension a good crying jag would give him; he’d almost
seen his son trampled to death by a dragon, had watched his son face off
against another in a task that had sent one of the Champions out of the arena
on a stretcher. It was no wonder Sirius was a mess. Remus was half-tempted to
join in; his tears scoured the back of his throat and pushed at the back of
his eyes but Sirius needed him to be the strong one.

“Sorry,” mumbled Sirius eventually, “I know I shouldn’t let it all get to me
but…”

“You’re allowed to let it get to you occasionally, Padfoot.” Remus chided him
gently, letting Sirius pull away to blow his nose and mop at his face.

“Just not in public where Crouch Junior will see me though.” Sirius grimaced,
wafting his handkerchief in the direction of the outside. “Otherwise he’d know
his plan to make my life hell was working.”

“Focus on the positive, Sirius.” Remus advised. “Harry is doing what he set
out to do. He completely owned the actual task. He was totally brilliant and
he’s in the lead. He’s on course to win it.”

Sirius nodded briskly. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath and banished the
handkerchief. “I think I might turn in early myself.”

“Probably a good thing.” Remus said mildly.

Sirius gestured back towards the door. “You should go and tell Moody and Albus
about the visitors in the Forbidden Forest and the possibility of Crouch and
accomplice moonlighting as Durmstrang kids. We should check the map daily;
make sure everyone is who they’re supposed to be.”

Remus nodded. “You’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be alright.” Sirius confirmed. “Thanks, Moony.”

“Any time, Padfoot.” Remus made for the door and glanced back only to find
Sirius in his Grim form huddled up to the window and staring out into the
twilight. He hesitated, wondering if he should stay anyway, but in the end the
knowledge that he had vital intelligence to impart to others made him leave.

He paused in the living room and Dobby popped immediately.

“Dobby takes care of Harry Potter and Harry Potter’s Paddy.” Dobby reassured
him. “You bes not worrying.”

Easier said than done but Remus appreciated the sentiment. He left his loved
ones in Dobby’s capable hands and went in search of Moody.

o-O-o

*25**th* *November 1994*

***HARRY POTTER, DRAGON LORD! By Rita Skeeter***

*In a remarkable display of power, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived,
demonstrated how to tame a dragon. The last Champion to face the first task of
the tournament, Harry found himself up against a Chinese Fireball — one of the
most dangerous species of dragon, famed for their intelligence and agility.
Harry’s athleticism saw him climb across the cliffy rocks used in the arena
before dropping down behind the Fireball to take it by surprise with a magical
ice-cold wind. With the dragon down, Harry was able to carry away the four
eggs with aplomb, securing himself first place in the tournament!*

*But that was not the end of Harry’s dragon-taming escapade. The Hungarian
Horntail which had put paid to French contestant, Fleur Delacour’s hopes of
completing the task, went feral. Having escaped from its dragon pen, it
stampeded into the arena just as Harry was leaving and attacked! In an
impressive display Harry teamed up with his former opponent of the Fireball to
protect the dragon eggs and overcome the Horntail!*

*It was a riveting and breath-taking to see our young hero fight so
heroically!*

*Mister Bagman, the tournament’s official Ministry representative, confirmed
that investigations by the Department of Mysteries and the DMLE were underway
to find out how the Horntail got loose. This lapse in security may be down to
the Romanian Reserve dragon team who had responsibility for the upkeep of the
dragons during the tournament.*

*Amos Diggory, father of third placed Champion, Cedric Diggory, commented that
the tasks and events with the Horntail demonstrated the need for strong
magical creature controls and questioned once again the Wizengamot’s review of
the Magical Creature Laws.*

“Well, well, well,” the Dark Lord murmured softly, tapping the newspaper and
sending the dragon in the picture on the front page cowering in terror behind
the pictorial form of Potter who glared out at the Dark Lord, “it seems Harry
avoided your trap, Bartemius.” There was a tense note in the Dark Lord’s voice
that noted his dissatisfaction.

Peter hid his smile as Barty bowed his head in dejected submission and slumped
to kneel beside the chair where the infant Dark Lord sat boosted up with a
cushion at the dining table.

“I have failed you, Father.” Barty said miserably.

Peter tried not to look pleased as he placed the Dark Lord’s potion in front
of him next to the paper and eased himself down into the seat opposite, his
shoulder aching from where Sirius had cut him. The Dark Lord hadn’t offered to
heal him and Peter had had to make do himself.

“You have done well.” The Dark Lord’s young hand reached out and stroked
Barty’s hair. “It was most unfortunate he did not face the Horntail in the
task itself but his escape from its rampage has proven he is worthy to be my
chosen enemy.”

“Why didn’t he face the Horntail?” asked Peter carefully. If the Dark Lord was
not displeased with Barty then Peter would have to watch his tone.

“According to Karkaroff, Dumbledore created the tokens on the morning of the
tournament and kept them with him until he gave them to Bagman for the draw.”
Barty explained tersely. “There was no opportunity to manipulate them.”

“Hmmm,” the Dark Lord chuckled, ‘perhaps the old fool is finally gaining some
sense.’ He turned back to the paper. “And what of your host? Is Igor causing
you and Dennis any trouble?”

“He’s too scared of you to cause trouble, Father.” Barty smirked. “He does our
bidding like the snivelling yellow-bellied coward is he.”

Peter felt a momentary pang of sympathy for Karkaroff for having to put up
with Barty’s and Dennis’s bullying. Still, he’d never liked the guy and he’d
sold out the Dark Lord. Karkaroff had to believe that helping them was his
only way of having a chance to live. Of course, what Karkaroff didn’t know was
that the Dark Lord had already promised Dennis would have the honour of
killing Karkaroff after the end of the tournament, when they no longer needed
him and the Durmstrang ship to hide within and thus have revenge for Karkaroff
sending his father to jail.

He did think it was an ingenious way for the two of them to hide-out at
Hogwarts without anyone being any the wiser. The ship was considered Bulgarian
territory and none of their enemies could risk going onto the ship without
causing a diplomatic incident. Barty had thought of it, of course. It had been
relatively easy for the Dark Lord to task a newly freed Dennis Travers with
the task of going to Durmstrang in a polyjuiced disguise and threatening
Karkaroff into obedience. They had been lucky that the checks for identity
were all done within Hogwarts castle and no-one questioned whether there was
anybody left on the ship. Dumbledore trusted that his peers had only brought
those they had admitted to bringing.

Fool.

It was a small crack in Moody’s security net but it was a crack Barty had been
quick to take advantage of and take advantage of it they had.

Barty and Dennis had been able to access the dragon pens in relative anonymity
pretending to be two of the Durmstrang students. They had successfully
sabotaged the feed and the Horntail’s chain. It was just the final part for
Harry to get the Horntail in the draw that hadn’t gone to plan.

Not that the failure seemed to matter to the Dark Lord, Peter thought sourly,
careful to keep his eyes lowered to the table so his Master couldn’t read his
mind.

“Excellent.” The Dark Lord drank down his potion. ‘We have made a successful
start to our campaign.’ He tapped the newspaper again. “But perhaps we shall
call this a draw as Potter survived without major injury.”

Barty lowered his head again.

“Do not worry, Bartemius.” The Dark Lord soothed him like a small child.
‘Potter will be defeated in good time.’ He smiled evilly — an incongruous
sight on the features of the toddler he inhabited. “And in the meantime we can
have some more fun with him. The second task will come soon enough and
perhaps…” he gestured at the small sentence announcing a Yule Ball was to be
held at Hogwarts as part of the tournament’s events. “We should think of
something for Yule… a Christmas present.”

Barty’s face brightened with malevolent glee.

Peter kept his expression as impassive as he could. He was rapidly coming to
the conclusion that Barty wasn’t altogether sane. But then how could he be,
reasoned Peter. Barty had been locked up in a basement by his own father for
over ten years. Peter felt his own existence as the family rat of the Weasleys
was infinitely preferable in comparison.

“May I…” Barty began eagerly.

“Yes, you may think of something.” The Dark Lord acquiesced. “But do not use
Fenrir. I have given him another mission.”

Barty frowned heavily. “I would have been happy to have assisted you, Father.”

“You must always choose the right tool for the right job, Bartemius.” The Dark
Lord said firmly. “Fenrir is imminently suited for the task of menacing
Potter’s supporters such as the Weasleys and undermining his political base
and agenda, especially as Potter is so focused on being kind to the
werewolves. Fenrir is a blunt instrument but he will be effective.”

“I understand, Father.” Barty said quickly. “And you are right; I will learn
to choose the right tool for the right task.”

Tools, Peter thought derisively. That was how they were all seen, even Barty
himself.

“So, Potter,” the Dark Lord murmured down to the picture of Harry, “our war
continues and we have won some battles and lost some on either side.”

“Father?” Barty asked tentatively.

The Dark Lord’s eyes slid to Barty and gazed at him sternly. “Why don’t you
list our battles so far, Bartemius?”

“The first task was one battle and you declared a draw there.” Barty
immediately replied, his elegant fingers wriggling in the air. “The second…
was getting Harry into the tournament which we won although they tried to
claim a victory in defeat.”

“Excellent.” The Dark Lord said.

Barty regained some confidence with the praise. “We liberated Travers but they
foiled our attempt to grab Potter at the World Cup.”

“And they have also recently found your elf and the Summers woman.” The Dark
Lord said quietly.

Barty’s face was priceless.

Peter hid his own glee at the shock that radiated through Barty’s handsome
features. The Dark Lord had been furious when Peter had arrived back from the
crypt with the news that he had barely escaped since the location had been
found by the Aurors. Peter had kept his head filled with his battle with
Sirius and subsequent panicked run from Sirius’s Grim form to hide his remarks
to his old friend.

He still felt a thrill about what he’d done. He suspected Sirius already knew
about the ritual and therefore he didn’t believe that he’d betrayed the Dark
Lord at all. And he was still committed to being the Dark Lord’s servant;
believed that in the final showdown the Dark Lord with his years of
experience, and guarded against the ancient magic Lily had invoked, would
prevail against Harry. But maybe there was the possibility that Harry would
pull another rabbit out of his hat and Peter hoped he had done enough to make
Sirius hesitate about killing him next time their paths crossed.

“When…” Barty began.

“Last week.” The Dark Lord said mildly. “I am surprised that you didn’t feel
the breach in your blood wards.” There was a question in the statement of why
Barty hadn’t felt it. They’d only been alerted because of the trip alarms that
the Dark Lord had insisted be placed around the crypt.

“The spell did call for the blood of a Head of House and as I’ve had some
problems with the inheritance ritual,” Barty hurried out as an excuse,
“perhaps the wards did not work as they were meant to as I am not the
recognised Head of House yet.”

“Learn from your mistake, Bartemius.” The Dark Lord said. “Your
inattentiveness has caused us to lose our spare amniotic fluid for the ritual
potion, my willing servant as Peter was almost caught, and our enemy now has
your elf in their grasp.”

“Winky will not betray me.” Barty said firmly. “She loves her bond too much.”

“The Blacks were purported to have a spell that would override the ownership
of an elf for a short time.” The Dark Lord informed him mildly. “I once heard
Bella speak of it. I do not doubt the new Lord Black will know of it.”

Barty bowed his head again.

“Do not fret, Bartemius.” The Dark Lord reached out and stroked Barty’s hair.
The gesture turned Peter’s stomach. ‘Your Draught of the Sleeping Beauty was
perfect and there is no antidote.’ His young twisted features turned
contemplative. “Although Severus might find one at Albus’s behest, of course.”

That was a possibility. Snape had been a pain back at Hogwarts but he had been
a pain with a rare talent. If anyone could find an antidote it was probably
Snape, Peter thought with faint alarm.

“Maybe it’s time for us to bring Severus into our confidence.” The Dark Lord
mused out loud. “It would be good to have an actual Potions Master complete
the ritual potion.”

Barty frowned, clearly unhappy at the idea of anyone else finding favour with
the Dark Lord. “Father?”

“Tools, Bartemius,” the Dark Lord reminded him, “and Severus is a wonderfully
sharp implement when he’s used correctly.”

“He betrayed you!” Barty spluttered.

“No,” the Dark Lord’s red eyes glittered, “Severus has always been mine. It
was I who placed him within Albus Dumbledore’s circle and he who first
informed me of the threat posed by Potter. I do not doubt that he continues to
serve me, remaining close to the Potter boy and Dumbledore to ensure I have
the best of intelligence. I saw for myself how much he despises the boy when I
occupied Quirrell. I do not believe he realised that I was behind Quirrell’s
machinations.”

Peter rather doubted that the Dark Lord was right about Snape’s loyalty. Snape
had loved Lily once and he wasn’t completely certain that Snape hadn’t known
that the Dark Lord occupied Quirrell when he’d kept getting in between the
Dark Lord and the Philosopher’s Stone. He kept his thoughts to himself though.

“Yes,” the Dark Lord mused again, “it is perhaps time to bring Severus into
the circle.”

“How will I approach him?” Barty asked somewhat sulkily.

“Knowing Severus, he will approach you through Karkaroff soon enough.” The
Dark Lord said, amused. “I look forward to your Yule present, Barty. I have
forgiven you your mistakes to date but another failure may not go unpunished,
my Heir.”

“Yes, Father.” Barty replied straight away.

The Dark Lord waved a tiny hand at Peter. “I am ready to retire.”

Peter hurried to see to his Master, keeping his own mind busy with the details
of ensuring the bed was turned down and the pillows comfortably positioned
before he left the Dark Lord in the care of the snake. Peter reluctantly
returned to the small living room.

Barty had gotten up off the floor and was sprawled on the sofa.

Peter ignored him and slid into his seat at the dining table, pulling the
paper toward him to reread it once more.

“Do you believe him about Snape?” asked Barty into the stretching silence.

“If the Dark Lord says he is to be trusted, he is to be trusted.” Peter
replied evenly. “I don’t question the Dark Lord.” It made him the perfect
choice as the willing servant, Peter thought to himself. The right tool for
the right job; the Dark Lord had chosen correctly after all.

“What about if it protects him?” quibbled Barty, lurching to his feet and
pacing back and forth.

Peter flipped the page. “Even then.”

“I don’t trust Snape.” Barty growled. “He’s in too deep with Dumbledore.”

“That was his mission.” Peter pointed out dryly. ‘He was meant to get in deep
with Dumbledore so he could report to the Dark Lord with confidence.’ He
lifted a shoulder. “I would say he was certainly more committed to the cause
than you back in the day. After all, you only took the Mark because Rabastan
asked you to, didn’t you?”

Barty waved away Peter’s remarks about his own loyalty. “And now?” He zeroed
in on the opening Peter had left. “Do you say he’s as committed as me now?”

“I doubt any of us are as committed as you now.” Peter said dryly. Or needed
committing, he mused silently, as Barty began laughing, bending double in his
hysteria.

“You’re funny, Pettigrew.” He straightened eventually and wiped his eyes. “And
about Snape?”

“If the Dark Lord believes he belongs to the Dark Lord then I’m certain that
he has his reasons.” Peter prevaricated.

“But?” pressed Barty, his eyes narrowing on Peter expectantly.

“But I know Snape loved Lily Potter at one point.” Peter said succinctly.
‘Whether the fact that the Dark Lord killed her has changed anything for
Snape… well, only he knows for certain.’ He raised a hand. “On the other hand,
Snape hated James and Sirius with a vengeance. He hates Harry now; that much I
know. The boys used to complain enough about his unfair treatment of him when
I was living as the Weasleys’ pet rat. Can I see him truly on the side which
is now being led by Sirius Black and a Potter who looks like James?” He
shrugged again.

Barty considered Peter’s words and frowned heavily. “Thanks, Peter.” He sighed
and dropped back onto the sofa. “I need a good idea for Yule.”

“Don’t look at me.” Peter said dismissively. “I’m crap at coming up with
Christmas presents.”

“I’d like another go at the Weasleys but if Fenrir has been given them…” Barty
sighed. ‘Perhaps Potter’s brand new girl friend? She’s a muggleborn, isn’t
she? And it would be such a heartbreaking blow for our young hero.’ He pouted.
“But that seems so cliché.”

Peter kept his own counsel and tried not to think about anything but lunch.

Ensuring Pronglet Survives: Chapter 8
=====================================

Sirius settled into the comfy armchair Albus had conjured and relaxed a little
in the safety of Albus’s office. He took a sip of his coffee and gazed around
at the War Council. It seemed like years had passed since their first meeting.
Cornelius was chatting away with Amelia and Bertie across from Sirius and
Albus had left the power position behind his desk to sit with them as peers.
They all had come a long way in a short space of time; had forged a good
working relationship to band against the return of Voldemort. It was no wonder
that two of their invited guests of Moody and Snape were viewing them with
open suspicion, and even Remus viewed them with an air of bewilderment. It
gave Sirius a surprising amount of satisfaction.

“Perhaps we should begin.” Sirius said, cutting through the chatter with quiet
forcefulness. He motioned with his cup. “First on the agenda is the
tournament.”

Albus perked up immediately, obviously pleased that after having no clear role
on the council, he had something that was mostly his to represent.

“I think we’re all aware of the results of the first task,” Albus began,
adjusting his orange and yellow striped robes, ‘Harry was successful in
completing the task and leads the tournament.’ He heaved what was for Albus a
heavy sigh. “Unfortunately there was an attempt to sabotage the tournament.”
He motioned at Moody.

“After investigation,” Moody nodded toward Bertie and Amelia, ‘we’ve
established that the Horntail was drugged with a stimulant to increase its
aggression, probably over a couple of days. The chain securing the Horntail
was charmed to banish during Potter’s task. Which leads to a number of
questions.’ His magical eye swivelled. “Firstly, what was the goal?”

“We’ve concluded the likely aim was to increase the difficulty level of
Harry’s task.” Bertie chimed in. “I believe that the ritual is at the root of
it. Riddle has to ensure that Harry is in genuine fear of his life and not
immured to the danger because it is a task within the tournament. The other
possible motivation that has been suggested is that Riddle wants Harry to be
shown as powerful so when he defeats him, no-one else will dare stand against
him. Both may have played a part here.”

“Either suits Tom’s agenda, I fear.” Albus sighed. “If Harry dies attempting a
task, Voldemort could claim he defeated him that way. If he survives he is
primed for the ritual, and, yes; if Harry were to die at Tom’s hand after his
impressive displays in the tournament, it would crush any opposition Tom might
face.”

“I believe that too.” Cornelius piped up.

“I think we all know it.” Amelia said brusquely. “He’s the banner we’re
fighting behind. If he falls…”

“Perhaps,” Sirius said mildly, “for the sake of what remains of my sanity we
could all stop talking about what might happen if Harry…” his throat closed up
on the word as though his body would not physically declare the possibility of
Harry dying. He made a vague wave instead.

“Apologies, Sirius,” said Albus kindly.

Sirius pointed at Moody. “Right, we’ve covered the why, but personally I’m
more interested in the how.”

Moody looked at him approvingly. “Trained you well, Black.” He jerked his
thumb in the direction of Remus. “From Remus’s chat with Hagrid we know
security was compromised during the period the dragons were hidden in the
Forest ahead of the tournament.”

Amelia shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to say that the
Aurors on duty assisting the team from the dragon reserve were lax in their
attention by allowing visitors.” Her lips formed a grim line. ‘They have been
reprimanded.’ She gestured. “Upon pressing them for information they were able
to provide a complete list of all the visitors to the dragons in the Forest.”

“Now here’s where it gets interesting,” Moody said with worrying enthusiasm,
“apart from a host of teachers who should have known better, the Aurors noted
a couple of boys from Durmstrang hanging about which corroborates Hagrid’s
information.”

“We’re also certain that the boys were the culprits as all the teachers when
questioned confessed their foray to see the dragons and agreed to an identity
check there and then.” Amelia slid in.

Moody huffed. “Thing is we don’t think these boys are boys.”

“The Aurors have failed to identify them from the immigration passports of the
students we have here.” Amelia said.

“It’s brilliant in its simplicity.” Albus noted seriously. “We see the
uniform, recognise that the individual is a student and we rarely think any
more about them.”

“Especially students you don’t teach yourself.” Moody made an unhappy noise.
“Have to confess I’d have a hard time identifying the foreign lot beyond the
two Champions.”

“The question is,” Remus said, “do we think Crouch Junior and company have
used Durmstrang uniforms because it’s expedient, or because of another
reason.”

“Such as getting help from their former cohort, Karkaroff.” Moody growled. “I
know what I think.”

“I think we all know what you think, Alastor.” Amelia said, some amusement
creeping back into her voice. “The problem is that we don’t have proof of
their point of entry.”

Remus frowned. “Surely we can eliminate the Forest itself. The dragons were
hidden between the Centaurs and the Acromantulas. It would be madness to
apparate into either territory.”

“That’s my view,” Moody said, “however Amelia is right that we don’t know for
certain that’s not what happened.”

“Which means we don’t have grounds to request a search of the Durmstrang ship
or to take Karkaroff in for formal questioning.” Amelia stressed.

“And not that we could demand such actions without going through proper
diplomatic channels.” Cornelius hastened to add.

Sirius was prepared to accept that since the Durmstrang ship was officially
Bulgarian territory. Any presumptive arrogance on the part of the British
government and it could take until the end of the tournament before they were
allowed near it.

“I approached Igor myself,” Albus said, ‘using the pretext of suggesting it
was one of the actual Durmstrang students visiting the dragons.’ He shook his
head, his long beard trailing. “Alas, he gave nothing away if he is involved.”

Sirius glanced at Snape.

“Karkaroff and I have avoided each other.” Snape bit out tersely.

Which was to be expected. They were both former Death Eaters, disgraced.
Normally they would do their best to ignore the association.

Sirius turned it over in his head. Would Karkaroff be suspicious if Snape did
approach him? He looked at Snape who sneered at him. Sirius ignored him.

“Wouldn’t it make sense for you as a spy to try and find out if Karkaroff has
heard from Voldemort?” Sirius asked pointedly. “You are supposed to be playing
for his side as far as he’s concerned.”

Snape stiffened. “If you are inferring for one second that my loyalty is in
question…”

Sirius cut him off with an impatient gesture. “Don’t be stupid, Snape. I know
where your loyalty lies and I know it isn’t with Voldemort since you want to
kill him as much as I do.”

There was a fleeting look of surprise on Snape’s face before it smoothed into
a thoughtful expression. “I could try,” he eventually said.

“If Igor is involved in some way,” Albus said, with a disapproving look in
Sirius’s direction, “you may draw Tom’s attention.”

Snape bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I am certain I could convince him of
my continued value as his spy within your ranks, Headmaster.”

Albus raised his eyebrows. “And within Sirius’s ranks? Do you honestly think
that he will believe you have managed to ingratiate yourself with Sirius, with
the known animosity between the two of you?”

“He will believe that I am attempting to place myself usefully for him at
great expense to my own pride, and that Black continues to distrust me,” Snape
said dryly, “but that I look forward to the day when he might reward me with
the honour of killing Black to make up for my having to have anything to do
with Black at all.”

Sirius laughed because he knew it would work. Not to mention that on some
level Snape probably did want to kill him.

“And all this presupposes Karkaroff is helping Riddle.” Amelia pointed out.

Bertie chuckled at Moody’s grumpy expression. “I wouldn’t bet against Alastor
in this instance.”

Moody harrumphed. “I’ll be increasing the patrols by the ship in any case.” He
sighed. “We’ve also had an unknown animagus register on the wards but… the
first sign of them was the day of the task so could have been anyone including
someone authorised to attend.”

“Is it possible that Crouch Junior is an unregistered animagus?” Amelia asked.

“He did not have such a skill when he was at Hogwarts.” Albus said.

Remus frowned. “But he could have learned to become an animagus between
leaving Hogwarts and being imprisoned in Azkaban.”

“If he did, then why didn’t he use his form to escape his father?” Sirius
asked pointedly. “Fair enough he might have been confused all of the time but…
as an animagus I have to say that it’s unlikely it would never have entered
his head to change form even if it was to escape the immediate horror of his
captivity.”

From the varying expressions of pity to horror on the faces around him, Sirius
realised he might have given his own past away with his words.

“It’s all speculation.” Moody snorted, yanking everyone’s attention back on
track. “We’ll keep an eye on the wards for any other instances.”

Sirius noticed Remus had his ‘I have a thought but need to think about it
more’ face. He left him alone. “So that’s what we’re left with: tightening
security and maintaining vigilance.”

“Our next task is February.” Albus said. “It gives us plenty of time to
prepare.”

“But there is the Yule Ball.” Amelia said. “If I were Riddle I would be
tempted to do something.”

Albus sighed. “Yes, Tom always did have a flare for dramatics.”

“Moving on then,” Sirius nodded toward Cornelius.

Cornelius puffed up proudly. “Harry’s outstanding performance against the
dragon has led to some of those we are seeking alliances with on the neutral
side to reconsider their reluctance to ally with us.” He squirmed with glee.
‘Sirius and I have received a number of invitations since the first task which
we will follow up.’ He made a small gesture with his cup. “Possibly we will be
unable to convert them into reality before the December Wizengamot, but it may
still benefit us in validating the report from the Committee looking into the
magical creature laws.”

“Lucius reports a similar state of reconsideration among the pureblood
houses.” Sirius said. “Even if nothing comes of it immediately, it may hamper
Wenlock’s opposition.”

“Excellent news.” Albus beamed at them and Cornelius soaked up the approval
like a sponge.

“We’ve got some good news too since we found the missing pregnant woman.”
Amelia said. “However she is in the same state as the Crouch elf and so we’re
waiting on a revival potion.”

Sirius glanced at Snape.

“With the blood from the woman I have narrowed it to two possible potions that
were used.” Snape informed them briskly. “I am now waiting on a Blood
Revelation potion to brew for the next set of tests.”

“You should come work for me when this is all over.” Bertie said, sipping his
drink, “we could use someone with your skills in potions.”

Sirius noticed how stunned and hopeful Snape looked in the brief second before
he controlled his reaction. He wondered if it had once been a dream of Snape’s
to work for the DOM before he’d succumbed to the lure of the Death Eaters. He
had never really considered that Snape would have had dreams, wants, hopes
when they had both been school boys at odds with one another. He had been too
immersed in his own troubles to view Snape as anything other than a nemesis
rather than a boy like himself. Was it a sign of maturity that he finally saw
Snape as a human being with all of the flaws and dreams being human entailed?

That was a scary thought.

Sirius mentally shook away his entire train of thought as Amelia continued
confirming that they believed Voldemort and Peter at least to be in London.

“Do we think Pettigrew’s sudden decision to provide information sincere?”
Amelia asked bluntly.

Sirius frowned as he and Remus glanced toward each other, confirming their
shared thought of ‘not bloody likely.’

“Peter’s probably hedging his bets.” Remus said diplomatically.

“Trying to cover his arse.” Sirius muttered with disgust.

“Perhaps he is truly regretful.” Albus’s tone was softly chiding.

“He is trying to ensure that I won’t just kill him.” Sirius corrected sharply.
“I don’t doubt any information he provides may be useful but let’s not kid
ourselves that he’s doing it for any other reason than because he wants to
save himself.”

“So we can’t count on him fully changing sides and telling us where he is.”
Amelia cut in before Albus could wax lyrical about redemption and second
chances.

“Not until it’s beyond question which side will win.” Remus confirmed.

Sirius motioned at Bertie who grimaced around a mouthful of tea.

He swallowed hastily. “My news isn’t so good. The Treasure Hunt is on-going.
We haven’t had any luck locating the remaining item so far.” He sighed. ‘Our
search continues.’ He gestured at Remus. “Bill mentioned that you’d suggested
talking to the ghosts and portraits?”

Remus nodded. “It was just a thought. They might have seen Riddle hide it.”

Albus made a sudden noise of exclamation. “Of course! We should talk to the
Ravenclaw ghost!”

They all looked at him with varying expressions of quizzical bewilderment.

“The Ravenclaw ghost is the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw.” Albus explained, as
though they all should have known.

“You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier?” Bertie sighed.

Albus appeared suitably recalcitrant. “Alas, it did not occur to me.”

“Don’t the ghosts have to answer any questions you ask?” Remus asked.

“Not exactly. The ghosts know they are allowed to remain at Hogwarts at the
Headmaster’s pleasure, therefore they are honour bound to answer any
questions.” Albus explained.

“But they can choose not to.” Bertie said, nodding understandingly. “Still it
might be wise to have you with us when we question her.”

Albus agreed readily and the War Council was done for another day.

Sirius wandered back to his rooms, a quiet and contemplative Remus beside him.
They entered to find Harry immersed in homework at the dining table. They slid
into seats, Sirius taking the chair next to Harry while Remus sat opposite.

Harry raised his head briefly. “How did it go?”

“Pretty much confirmed what we already knew.” Sirius said and went over the
main points for his son.

“If it’s official that the Horntail was sabotaged,” Harry said with a deep
frown, “that means Fleur was unfairly challenged during the task.”

“I’m not sure it changed the outcome by much.” Remus said. “Her sleep spell
just wasn’t strong enough.”

“But she might have been able to save one of the eggs,” Harry argued, “or
avoided getting hurt.”

Sirius felt a rush of pride. Harry had such a good heart. “I’ll raise it with
Albus.” He promised.

Harry smiled at him.

Sirius turned to Remus. “And you,” he wagged a finger at him, “what have you
been thinking about?”

Remus gave a sheepish sigh. “I was wondering whether it would be appropriate
to make some discreet personal enquiries to see if Minister Oblansk would give
us permission to search the Durmstrang ship.”

“You mean avoid the official channels and request it as a favour?” Sirius
asked marvelling at Remus’s lateral thinking. It might work. “You and Bogdan
did get on well at the World Cup.”

“We’d still have to be cautious about how we asked and probably bring
Cornelius in to give us cover if it went pear-shaped.” Remus cautioned.

“It’s a good idea.” Sirius said.

“It’s a brilliant idea!” Harry added enthusiastically. ‘I can also ask Viktor
to watch for anything suspicious on the ship. I mean,’ he said swiftly seeing
the objection Sirius was going to make, “not to go looking but just if
anything looks odd to let us know.”

Sirius hummed as he considered the idea. Viktor seemed on the level but it was
risky trusting him. However it was a good suggestion.

“Maybe you should bring all the Champions in on the news of the sabotage.”
Sirius began. “Ask them all to keep a look out. We honestly don’t know for
certain that Junior is working with Karkaroff and is hiding on the ship. They
might wear different uniforms next time.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll talk with them at Quidditch practice.”

“And I’ll send word to speak with Bogdan via Tomas when I’m next in France.”
Remus said.

“Is that before or after your date with Tonks?” asked Harry slyly.

“It is not a date!” Remus immediately denied. “We’re going for a friendly
drink so I can inform Tonks my interest is elsewhere.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyebrows shot skyward as though in surprise although Sirius
knew he was well aware of Remus’s interest in a female werewolf back at the
chateau since Sirius had informed Harry himself.

Remus hurriedly got to his feet. “I should go. Lots to do.” He was barely out
of the door before both Harry and Sirius dissolved into laughter.

o-O-o

*26th November 1994*

Remus tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Tonks to arrive. He really
wasn’t looking forward to the next hour. He liked Tonks and he didn’t want to
make things awkward with her. But he couldn’t allow her to continue to send
him suggestive messages when he wasn’t interested in her romantically; when he
was looking forward to returning to France and seeing Clara again.

The floo chimed and Tonks walked out with her usual sassy confidence. She was
wearing muggle clothing; blue jeans, a t-shirt proclaiming her love for an
obscure muggle rock band, boots and a thick leather jacket. Her hair was a
bright pink matching the colour of her top.

“You’re looking good, Remus.” Tonks winked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. He had also dressed in muggle wear of black jeans, an
old flannel shirt in a washed out green, boots and a short woollen black
jacket.

“Shall we?” Remus motioned at the floo.

They made their way to The Leaky Cauldron. Remus found them a quiet corner and
bought them two pints of ale.

“Tonks,” he began, “these notes that you’ve been sending me…”

“Got your attention, didn’t it?” Tonks said, grinning. “You’re a hard man to
pin down.”

“Then, you’re serious?” Remus questioned, a tad stunned that she hadn’t
immediately laughed it off and admitted it was all a joke.

Tonks lowered her drink and regarded him with a slight frown. “You thought I
was making fun of you?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.” Remus said mildly. It had happened once
before with a witch at school.

“Then let me assure you,” Tonks said, “I’m very serious. I was made up when
Sirius mentioned at dinner that you were looking for a relationship.” Her grey
eyes shone with nothing but sincerity which made Remus’s heart sink as he
considered what he had to tell her.

Remus shifted in his seat. “The thing is that when Sirius used me as a way of
diverting attention from his own lack of a love life, he wasn’t aware that I
was already interested in someone.” He fidgeted with his glass as
comprehension filled Tonks’ face.

“Ah,” she winced in a dramatic fashion, “and I’m guessing it isn’t me that’s
caught your eye?”

“I’m afraid not, Tonks.” Remus agreed gently.

“Bugger.” Tonks said, slumping back in her chair, amusement beginning to
overtake the embarrassment of the moment. “And I thought I was so clever
getting in before anyone else.”

Remus blushed.

She sipped her ale and eyed him speculatively. “Well, I guess I shall have to
settle for being your best girl buddy.”

Remus almost spit out his mouthful of ale. “Sorry?”

“You know,” Tonks grinned, ‘the girl buddy you talk to when you need advice
about girls and fashion and,’ she made a circular gesture with one hand,
“things you don’t want to talk about with a bloke.”

“Oh, you mean a *girl buddy*.” Remus said teasingly. “Yeah, it’s been a while
since I’ve had one of those.” Sadness coloured the last of his words despite
his intention to keep it light.

“Lily?” Tonks inquired gently.

Remus nodded. “She kind of adopted all of the Marauders when she married
James.”

“I think I met her?” Tonks said. “Sirius brought her by with James when I was
little. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I
insisted on my hair being her colour for days after.”

“You met her quite a few times I think.” Remus said. “You’d be too young to
remember. Sirius tried to stay in touch as much as he could with your mother,
and, of course, it was rare to find Sirius without James even after James’s
marriage.”

“Did you mind?” Tonks asked with genuine interest.

“Sometimes,” Remus admitted, ‘mostly when James would take Sirius’s side in
something, not because it was right but because it was Sirius.’ He frowned. “I
never realised back then how much Sirius did the same for James. They were
closer than brothers but then they were friends from the first whereas it took
a little time for the four of us as a group to properly gel.”

Tonks took a gulp of her drink. “It’s weird. Whenever I think about you guys
at school, I always just assume that you came fully formed as Marauders.
Sirius used to tell me stories when he visited when I was a kid.” She peeked
at him over her glass. “That’s partially why I had such a crush on you. He
made you all sound so cool.”

Remus chuckled. “Our being friends didn’t happen overnight.” He shrugged. ‘I
think Peter and I assumed Sirius and James had been friends for years; they
just had that vibe from the get-go despite only meeting on the train.’ He
sipped his ale. “Neither of us wanted to intrude so we ended up hanging around
each other by default. It wasn’t until… Peter and I got cornered by a group of
older Slytherins near the library. We were outnumbered but suddenly James and
Sirius were there, and the four of us made short work of the six of them. That
was when we all started to hang around together.”

“That sounds like Sirius.” Tonks said. “Taking on Slytherins and fighting.”

“He has a surprisingly good heart.” Remus said defensively although her tone
was fond and teasing rather than critical. He raised his half empty glass.
“Most people miss that.”

“I don’t think anyone can deny it with everything he’s done for Harry.” Tonks
said, motioning with her glass.

Remus shrugged. “You’d be surprised. There are still some who focus on his
name and the reputation of his family. I’ve heard people say he took Harry to
gain power, to increase his political base; not because he truly loves him.”

Tonks nodded slowly. “I can relate on the family front.” She tipped her glass
in Remus’s direction. “I get comments occasionally, and I’m not even a Black
by name.”

Remus tilted his head in her direction. “You did inherit the eyes.”

Tonks grimaced. “I look like my Aunt Bella naturally. So you can understand
why I morph into looking more like the Tonks side.”

“Your mother doesn’t mind?” Remus asked.

“I think she understands.” Tonks said. “She’s always been supportive. I had a
pretty tough time at school until I settled on a base form.”

Remus could guess at what kind of issues Tonks had faced especially with
teenage boys and girls; the boys would be crude and the girls jealous.

Tonks smiled suddenly. “You don’t have to look so fierce on my behalf, Remus.
Any hurt was long healed and I did have a few good friends.”

Remus huffed out an amused sigh. He set his glass down, slightly surprised to
find it empty.

Tonks nodded at it, draining her own. “My round. You can tell me all about the
lady who beat me to you.”

Remus didn’t have time to protest; she was gone with the empty glasses. He
relaxed in his chair, relieved the discussion had gone so well, and credited
Tonks for her graciousness in the face of his rejection.

A sudden movement yanked his attention from his thoughts as Sian slid into the
chair Tonks had vacated. She looked grim.

“Sian, what’s wrong?” Remus asked urgently, knowing it had to be bad for her
to approach him so publicly.

“Fenrir came back to the pack yesterday.” Sian said. “He asked for volunteers
to complete a mission for the Dark Lord.”

Remus glanced around anxiously. “We need to find somewhere more private.”

He stood up and herded her in front of him to the bar where Tonks was waiting
to be served. He tapped Tonks on the shoulder. She raised an eyebrow at the
sight of Sian.

“I leave you alone for a minute and you find another girl?” She teased.

Remus flushed but focused on the immediate issue. “Tonks, Sian’s an old
friend. Would you be OK if we got the next round at your place?” He hoped his
pleading expression was enough to make her comply without any other kind of
explanation.

Her grey eyes so like Sirius’s narrowed but she pushed away from the bar with
a shrug. “Sure. Shall we use the floo?”

It took little more than a few minutes for them to travel to Tonks’ small
flat. She locked down the floo and smiled ruefully as she picked up some
scattered clothing.

“Sorry for the mess,” Tonks grinned suddenly, “I wasn’t expecting to get this
lucky on a first date.”

Remus rolled his eyes at her.

“Remus…” Sian started to protest, bristling at the implication that Remus had
revealed her to nothing more than a casual romantic interest.

“Introductions,” he declared quickly, “Tonks, this is Sian, a member of
Fenrir’s pack. She has information.”

He was relieved to see Tonks sobered, assuming a demeanour more in keeping
with her job as an Auror.

“And Sian, this is Tonks, otherwise known as Sirius’s cousin, and she’s also
an Auror.”

Sian subsided, perching on a chair, her dark hair falling over her face.

Tonks sat down opposite her, a pile of clothing in her arms. “What can you
tell us?”

“Fenrir called a pack meeting yesterday.” Sian said tersely. “He said the Dark
Lord had given the pack a mission and asked for volunteers.”

Remus frowned. “What was the mission?”

“The usual; frightening the Dark Lord’s enemies, harassment, that kind of
thing.” Sian raised a hand to her brow and rubbed it. Remus was suddenly aware
of how weary she looked. “He mentioned the Potter alliance and someone called
Dirk Cresswell?”

“Isn’t Cresswell heading up the Committee reviewing the magical creature
laws?” Tonks asked Remus.

He nodded, leaning back against the breakfast bar that separated Tonks’ tiny
living area from an equally tiny kitchenette. “Doesn’t Fenrir understand that
attacking the people supporting positive laws for werewolves is
counterproductive?”

“You know Fenrir,” Sian said bluntly, “all he wants is the blood and the
fight. He doesn’t actually care that he might be undermining any chance of
werewolves getting fair treatment. Someone did question him during the meeting
and he blustered how under the Dark Lord we wouldn’t have any kind of
restrictions — which is a load of bullshit because some of us remember that
all Voldemort wants to do is put a leash on us until he wants someone bitten
or intimidated.”

“But?” asked Tonks.

“But some of the younger ones fell for it.” Sian grimaced. “They’re sore about
the laws and think the whole review is a front for coming up with even worse
restrictions.”

“Fabulous.” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. Fenrir had volunteers to
menace the Potter alliance and Cresswell; it was definitely bad news.

“Were you able to get any other details?” Tonks pressed, and Remus was glad
she was there and still thinking strategically because he was just a mass of
boiling emotions. “Timing? Sequence of targets?”

“The first target is just before the Wizengamot session on the seventh of
December.” Sian said. ‘He didn’t say about the others and he didn’t say who in
particular would be targeted. I can’t go back, Remus.’ She said, turning to
him. “Alan, the one who questioned him, was killed this morning and it was
probably for questioning him. Fenrir’s suspicious about me as it is; he knows
I’ve never liked his leadership.”

“We can floo to Auror headquarters,” Tonks said soothingly, “you’ll need to
make a formal report and we’ll give you a safe house.”

“What about the chateau?” asked Sian. “Why can’t I go there like the others?”

Remus nodded at Tonks. “Surely she’ll be safe there?”

Tonks frowned. “Honestly, I don’t think Director Bones will let her leave
until the attacks are done and even then… she should officially be in
protective custody as an informant and witness.”

Sian grimaced and shook her head. “I can’t be in custody, Remus.” She glanced
up at him. “Please.”

He sighed. Sian had acted at great personal risk to bring them the
information. “If Amelia and Sirius agree, you can stay with me. Hopefully that
will be an acceptable compromise?”

Sian’s relief was so obviously evident that Remus didn’t automatically regret
giving into her plea.

“You’ll still have to make a formal report.” Tonks said firmly. She stood up
and chucked her armful of clothing back on the sofa. “Why don’t you go into
the kitchen and get something to drink? I’ll floo call the Director and see
whether she wants us to come in or we can do it here.”

Remus led Sian around the breakfast bar and into the small space. “What would
you like?”

“Water will do.” Sian said. She thrust a hand toward the living area where
Tonks’ quiet murmur could be heard. “Your girlfriend?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but she’s just a friend.” Remus corrected
briskly.

Sian breathed out audibly. “Sorry, I was… I was just concerned that I might
have intruded on your date or caused problems by staying with you.”

It was a thought, Remus considered with chagrin. Tonks was just a friend
regardless of her proclaimed interest but how was *Clara* going to react to
his suddenly getting a house-guest in the form of an attractive woman? He
would just have to cross that bridge when he came to it, Remus decided; it was
still very early days with Clara anyway — he hadn’t even declared his interest
in her to Clara herself.

Tonks popped up in front of the breakfast bar. “The Director says I can take
the formal report here but she’s sending Kingsley to support me. She’s also
going to alert Sirius so I figure we’ll wait until they arrive before we
set-up.”

Sian pulled at her top. “Do you have somewhere I can freshen up, please?”

“’Course.” Tonks gestured at her. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Sian followed her out of the living area and Remus took the opportunity of a
moment alone to gather his composure. He didn’t have long as Tonks returned
almost immediately.

“You look like you need something stronger than tea. There’s some Scotch in
the cupboard.” Tonks offered brightly. “I keep it for my Dad.”

Remus sighed but opened up the door she was pointing at.

“So,” Tonks said, resting a hip against the bar and gazing at him
speculatively, “is she…”

“No,” Remus said hastily, ‘definitely; no.’ He brought down the scotch and
Tonks reached over to the sink to pass him a clean glass. He poured himself a
generous measure. “Sian and I were friends when I was spying back in
’eighty—’eighty-one. There’s no interest on either side.”

Tonks cast a look toward the bathroom. “I don’t know, I think there might be
interest on her side, Remus.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “Maybe because
I’m interested myself, I can recognise it in her.”

The floo chimed and Remus had the absent thought that he’d been saved by the
bell.

“I’d best get that.” Tonks said cheerfully and departed.

Remus was left behind, speechless. Sian? There was no way and… it wasn’t worth
thinking about! Tonks was wrong; she had to be! He felt a guilty twinge again
about Tonks herself but pushed it away forcefully. Tonks was young and
beautiful; she’d find someone for herself soon enough — someone better than an
old wolf like Remus. He was interested in Clara — Clara who didn’t know he was
interested in her and who might not be interested in him.

He wondered again how his life had suddenly gotten so romantically complicated
just as Sian re-entered and smiled at him nervously, and Tonks gestured over
the breakfast bar for them to join her in the living area.

Maybe Padfoot had the right idea, Remus thought with dark humour; maybe it was
simpler to focus on Harry and forget all about other entanglements. Remus
downed his scotch; he had a feeling was going to need it.

o-O-o

Harry had timed his date with Hermione for when everyone else would be at
lunch. He entered the Gryffindor Common Room with a spring in his step and was
thrilled to find Hermione waiting for him on their usual sofa, dressed in
casual clothes of jeans and a warm-looking lavender jumper. She’d done
something to her hair again, leaving it pinned back behind her ears with two
silver clasps on either side. For the first time he could remember she was
wearing lip gloss; it made her lips shine and thoughts of what would hopefully
be their first kiss later that day zipped through Harry’s thoughts.

“Hey.” Harry smiled at her, set down the picnic basket he was carrying and
offered her another rose; a red one in full bloom with bright green leaves.
“You look great.”

Hermione took the rose and smelled its fragrance. “Thank you, and so do you.”
Her eyes swept over him and Harry was conscious of his own jeans and green
cable-knit jumper.

“When are you expected back?” Harry questioned.

“Before dinner. Ron said he’d sound an alarm if I was any later.” Hermione
gave a rueful smile. “I think he enjoyed setting me a curfew far too much but
I guess it’s better to be safe. You?”

“Sirius said he’d come looking for me around sixish if I hadn’t surfaced by
then.” Harry said happily. ‘So we have all afternoon.’ He brandished the
invisibility cloak. “We should go before someone comes back.”

Hermione nodded and Harry tucked the cloak around the two of them. The days
when the cloak would have comfortably covered Harry, Hermione and Ron were
long gone. Even with just the two of them it was close quarters, but Harry
didn’t mind and he didn’t think Hermione did either. He hunched down to grab
the basket of food and straightened the cloak one last time. They walked out
of the portrait and Harry directed Hermione through the school to the seventh
floor.

“Where are we going?” hissed Hermione.

“It’s a surprise,” Harry said, “Dobby found this great room — and well, you’ll
see.” He grinned at her. They paused in front of a portrait of Barnabas the
Barmy and Harry checked the Marauders’ map to ensure there was no-one around
before he carefully took off the cloak, motioning for Hermione to stand to the
side. He paced up and down three times in front of what looked like an empty
wall. On the completion of the third pacing, a door suddenly appeared.

Harry opened it and ushered Hermione through and closed the door behind them.

It was the platform at King’s Cross with the Hogwarts Express standing ready
for a journey.

“Oh my God!” Hermione stared back at the wall with the door, at the train, at
the door and shook her head. “What is this place?”

“Dobby said the elves call it the Room of Requirement.” Harry said succinctly,
packing away the cloak. “You think up what you want outside the door, pace
back and forth with that in your mind, and…” he gestured around what looked
like the train platform, “and it creates it for you.” He absently minded
rubbed at the thin line of his scar, a niggling itch teasing at him.

“This is just…” Hermione shook her head again. “How does it do it? Where does
it get all these things?”

“I think some of it is an illusion?” Harry pointed at the far distance and the
view down the tracks. “And you can’t take things out that are created here; I
tried that and it doesn’t work. Food doesn’t just appear either although the
elves can bring some.

“So maybe a temporary conjuring charm of some kind?” Hermione said with
wonder.

Harry shrugged. He had less interest in knowing how the room worked; he was
just pleased it did. “Come on. I thought we’d have lunch on the train?” he
hesitated suddenly, “if that’s OK with you?”

Hermione smiled at him, reassuringly. “More than OK.” Her eyes met his with
understanding. “We first met on the train, didn’t we? So it’s kind of
appropriate we have our first date there.”

He was thrilled she’d gotten his thinking on the venue and offered her his
hand to help her up the step and into the carriage. It was identical to the
one that he’d occupied on his first train journey except there was no Ron or
luggage cluttering the space.

Harry set the picnic basket on the floor and took out a blanket for the floor.
Hermione helped him spread it on the floor and then they began to unload the
food. He’d asked Dobby to pack Hermione’s favourites and so he wasn’t
surprised to find a healthy option of a chicken salad accompanied with fresh
warm bread rolls tucked within the spacious inside. There were slices of apple
pie for dessert and Dobby had included a sparkling grape juice that looked
like wine but wasn’t. He poured them both a glass as Hermione served the food.
They finished and sat cross-legged next to each other, using the seats in the
carriage as back-rests.

Harry raised his glass. “To our first date.” He said, a little nervous all
over again.

“To our first date.” Hermione parroted, smiling.

They gently touched their glasses together and took a sip. They shifted to eat
and for a while sat in a companionable silence.

Hermione chuckled suddenly. He looked over at her questioningly.

“I was just thinking that I’m so nervous and how stupid that is since it’s you
and me, and we know each other.” Hermione explained with chagrin.

He grinned at her sheepishly. “I know; me too.”

Hermione assumed a determined look that Harry knew all too well. “So we should
stop being nervous and just enjoy the time together.”

Harry readily agreed. He hadn’t been able to spend a great deal of time alone
with Hermione with his new living accommodations, and while he didn’t regret
living with Sirius at Hogwarts, it did cut down on his time with his friends.

She gestured at him with a fork. “How are you getting on with the clues in the
egg?”

Harry winced. “It was a poem written in Mermish. Thankfully, Remus knows the
language.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, waving her fork enthusiastically to encourage
him to continue as she had a mouthful of food.

“Water, water, everywhere; of your prized possession take great care; for
prisoners rarely work together; and time will not last forever.” Harry recited
from memory.

Hermione grimaced. “That’s the clues?”

“At least I have the whole thing.” Harry pointed out. ‘Cedric only has the one
line and the judges just agreed that because of the Horntail being sabotaged,
Fleur will get that one too. Viktor has two lines.’ He swallowed some chicken.
“I think the task is going to either be on the top of the lake or under it.”

“Water, water, everywhere…” Hermione nodded briskly. ‘That makes sense.’ She
scooped up some coleslaw. “It sounds like they’re going to make you rescue
your prized possession. The second task is typically about retrieving
something.”

“Which is weird,” Harry said, “because I’d notice if any of my stuff went
missing — and I’m really not attached to very much.” There was the photo album
of his parents, his invisibility cloak and his Firebolt. Everything else was,
in Harry’s opinion, expendable.

“Maybe,” Hermione began hesitantly, “maybe they mean a person? They’ve used
human hostages in three previous tournaments.”

Harry felt his stutter in his chest. It was his worst nightmare; someone else
in danger because of him.

“It might not be!” Hermione hastened to comfort him. It’s just the third line
about prisoners suggests that someone will be a prisoner and the options are
the Champions or someone else so…”

“No, you’re probably right.” Harry said somewhat sourly. ‘But how would they
choose someone?’ He set his lunch aside and picked up his drink. “I mean, I
have a few people who I, uh, care about.”

“When the tasks have called for a participant to be associated with the
Champion in the past,” Hermione said, “the tournament judges enter a list of
possibilities into the Goblet and the Goblet chooses.”

“Great,” Harry sighed, ‘because that’s completely fool-proof.’ He adjusted his
glasses. “I guess from the last line there’ll be a time limit which you know
makes me think what happens to the someone or something if you don’t achieve
rescuing it — *them* — in time?”

“Good question.” Hermione said, putting her own plate aside and picking up her
drink. “If it was the tasks as they were previously designed I’m pretty sure
that it wouldn’t be bad. I can’t see Professor Dumbledore or Madame Maxime
allowing a lethal consequence.”

“But all bets are off since Voldemort rewrote the tasks.” Harry sighed and
drank some of his juice. He felt his mood darkening and shoved his impending
brooding away to focus on his date. “And I think we should stop talking about
the tournament.”

“Probably that’s a good idea.” Hermione admitted. “So what would you like to
talk about?”

“Well, dating is supposed to be about getting to know each other better,
right?” Harry warmed to his suggestion immediately. “How about we ask each
other questions? I’m sure there’s loads of stuff we don’t know about each
other?”

Hermione nodded happily. “Shall we have dessert too?”

There were a few minutes of organising themselves and the plates of warm apple
pie, (Harry dolloped a lump of cream on top but Hermione kept hers plain),
before they resettled into their previous positions, slightly turned towards
one another.

“So you can go first?” Harry offered, licking his spoon.

Hermione pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “What’s your happiest memory
before Hogwarts?”

Harry frowned. He didn’t have a lot of happy memories before Hogwarts because
of the Dursleys. But he did have a couple and he picked the one he liked best.

“Probably my first day at infants.” Harry said. “I can remember the classroom
seemed huge and we had these round tables where we sat. I was so pleased when
Dudley went off to the purple table on the other side of the room, and I was
on the blue. And the whole day just was great. Dudley had temper tantrums and
kept getting hauled to sit in the corner to think about his actions while I
was able to colour and do my writing and… it was great that first day.”

It had gone pear-shaped within a few weeks — as soon as Dudley found friends
and Harry in his shyness struggled; as Dudley found ways to torment Harry at
school; when Petunia hadn’t been interested in anything Harry did at school,
any of his achievements or the pictures he drew.

“What about you?” asked Harry. “What’s your happiest memory before Hogwarts?”

“Well, my first day of school is probably up there too.” Hermione said with a
rueful smile. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You could act shocked.”

“I am,” teased Harry, “I’m very shocked.”

“But,” Hermione stressed, “I guess my happiest memories are of the Summers we
used to spend at Gran’s in Dorset. We used to have afternoon tea with scones
and read books in the evening. It was great. She died when I was nine.”

Harry nudged her gently with his knee. “Do you have aunts and uncles?”

Hermione shook her head and pushed her plate away. “My Dad did have a brother
but he died in the Falklands War and, well, we don’t really talk about him.
Mum was an only child. They were aiming for two children but I was a difficult
birth and so they settled for me.” She bit her lip. “I kind of envy Ron
sometimes having so many siblings but then… I think it would drive me mad.”

“Me too.” Harry admitted with a laugh. “The Weasleys are great but I imagine
living in a house filled with more Dudleys and I cringe.”

Hermione looked at him sympathetically. “Do you think you’ll ever talk with
them, I mean the Dursleys, again?”

Harry scooped up the last of his pie and considered his answer. “I don’t
know.” He said eventually.

“You probably don’t want to talk about it.” Hermione said hurriedly. “I
shouldn’t have asked…”

“You can ask me anything.” Harry interrupted her, holding her gaze firmly,
“and it’s not so much I don’t want to talk about it as it’s… difficult?”

“Things were pretty bad for you there, weren’t they? More than you let on.”
Hermione said softly.

Harry shrugged, wanting despite his words to stop talking about it. “I knew
that the way they treated me wasn’t right but then… I guess I also didn’t get
how wrong it was until Sirius and… and it’s the difference, you know? Not just
the clothes and the rooms and the *things* but… Sirius always has time for me
and if I draw something and give it to him, he’ll display it somewhere, or
he’ll come and cheer me on at Quidditch. Little things.” Little things that
made it clear that Sirius cared for him; that he was important to Sirius. He
shifted, deciding a change in subject was in order. “What about you and your
parents?”

“We’re closer again now that they have a way of connecting with the wizarding
world.” Hermione said, brightening. “The last few years, I’ve felt like I’ve
been drifting away from them. There’s so much about the wizarding world that
they couldn’t see or understand and I guess I stopped explaining things to
them because I didn’t want to worry them.”

“I’m glad. I like your parents.” Harry said.

“They like you too.” Hermione blushed a little. “They’re pleased we’re
dating.”

Harry felt his own cheeks heat. “Yeah, Sirius is chuffed too.”

They smiled happily at each other.

It felt like a moment; *the* moment.

Harry set his glass aside with suddenly clumsy fingers. Hermione had left hers
on the floor so he didn’t need to worry about upending a glass of juice on
her. He held her gaze for a second, the question of ‘is it OK?’ travelling
silently between them and Hermione gave an almost imperceptible nod, her
cheeks flaring red again.

He leaned in, tilted his head…

She shifted closer…

He closed his eyes at the last minute…

And their lips met, a soft press before they gently moved and…

They were kissing.

*Kissing.*

His heart raced as he eased away, elation stampeding through him. He held out
his hand and she tangled their fingers together in a way that had become so
familiar since he’d asked her out.

“Was that…” Harry began awkwardly, although he didn’t think Hermione was going
to say it was awful because she looked the way he felt; giddy and happy and…

“Perfect.” Hermione stated firmly. Her eyes sparkled. “Especially since
Professor Dumbledore didn’t walk in on us too.”

Harry gave a huff of laughter.

Hermione squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t say no to a second.”

He grinned at her with what was probably a very sappy expression. “Yeah?”

“Well, it’s like you and Quidditch.” Hermione said primly, although her face
was alight with humour and affection. “I mean, it was perfect but we wouldn’t
want to let the quality of our performance slide through lack of practice.”

“Definitely not.” Harry happily agreed.

And as his lips met hers again, and his soul went flying without the help of
any kind of magic, he decided that he’d found something that was much, much
better than Quidditch.

Holding Onto Pronglet: Chapter 1
================================

**Part 9: Holding Onto Pronglet (The Sticking Like Glue Prank)**

*3**rd* *December 1994*

Spying was often a waiting game.

Severus observed Karkaroff surreptitiously at dinner He took in the tight
lines of tension that ran through the other man’s body, the pinched expression
and shadows under the eyes that spoke of stress and lack of sleep; how
Karkaroff would occasionally touch his left forearm when Karkaroff believed
nobody was looking.

Without asking him, Severus had verified to his own satisfaction that
Karkaroff was being forced to assist the Dark Lord in his bid to, if not
outright kill Potter, make the tournament a living nightmare for the boy in
anticipation of the ritual.

That Karkaroff was under duress didn’t surprise Severus in the slightest.
Karkaroff hadn’t been the only one to turn on his fellow Death Eaters for a
lighter sentence of his own, but he had been the most prominent given those he
had betrayed — Ministry workers and men of standing within the wizarding
world. Severus was certain the Dark Lord considered the betrayal deserved a
death sentence for Karkaroff but no doubt had convinced Karkaroff that the
guillotine hanging over Karkaroff’s exposed neck would not fall if he helped
the Dark Lord with the tournament and tormenting Potter. The freed Dennis
Travers was the most probable on site Death Eater keeping Karkaroff in line.
His father had been one of those Karkaroff had sent to Azkaban.

It was unfortunate that observing was not enough, but Severus had no quibble
with Black’s plan. He had always known that when the Dark Lord regained power
that he would have to return to spying. The Headmaster had been fooling
himself if he had ever thought Severus would escape it. Or maybe, Severus
mused as he finished his coffee, the Headmaster was simply put out that it had
been Black’s suggestion and not his. Severus found he didn’t really mind that
it was Black and that surprised him.

His view of his former nemesis had changed.

He still didn’t like him; that much hadn’t changed and Severus fervently
believed that it never would. But there was a growing — Severus searched for
an acceptable word — *respect*, he finally determined with well-hidden
bemusement. Severus respected Black’s political savvy, his strategic eye and
his complete ruthlessness in hunting down the Dark Lord. He even had a sneaky
respect for the manner in which Black handled his adopted son. It was clear
that Black had rules and Potter, whose total lack of respect for authority
Severus had deplored since the boy had set foot in Hogwarts, complied with
them. Perhaps, Severus considered, because Potter knew Black set them out of
love and not out of hate or apathy.

But if he had come to respect Black, Severus also believed, rightly or
wrongly, that Black had come to respect him in return. Black certainly
respected his skills; he had turned to Severus to deliver an antidote to the
potion that kept the elf and the pregnant Summers woman in a coma-like state,
after all. And Severus couldn’t complain overly much at the assignment
because, outside of the need and circumstances of the situation, he was
enjoying the challenge — it was why he had become a Potions Master. Black
didn’t skimp on the ingredients Severus had asked for or the equipment;
everything was top of the line and high quality.

Severus also believed given some of their exchanges in the previous weeks,
that Black respected Severus’s motivations; that he truly believed Severus
wanted the Dark Lord dead and revenge for Lily’s death.

And it seemed Black respected his ability as a spy.

It was, in part, why Severus had accepted Black’s proposition that he approach
Karkaroff. Of course, the other part of his acceptance had been predicated on
Severus’s own belief that Karkaroff held the key to how the first task had
been sabotaged, and the method by which the Dark Lord hoped to sabotage the
others.

Karkaroff rose from his chair and Severus waited until he had left the Great
Hall before following him. Severus had lived for years at the school and he
knew its short cuts. He was easily able to place himself into Karkaroff’s path
just outside of the school in a quiet corner by the rose gardens. He shocked
Karkaroff into a stumble by looming up unexpectedly from the dark.

Severus placed a finger on his own lips to signal for the other wizard to
remain silent before gesturing at him to follow him. Karkaroff glanced about
anxiously but there was no-one about. Severus led the way into a sheltered
corner of the gardens where he could see anyone approaching but they wouldn’t
be overheard.

Karkaroff fidgeted nervously as Severus erected a privacy bubble. “What’s this
about, Snape?” He demanded.

Severus pinned him with a frank stare that did more to call Karkaroff an idiot
than if the word had passed Severus’s lips. “I have a message for our Lord.”

The other wizard paled so fast Severus thought for a moment he’d faint. “I… I
have no idea vhat you are…”

“Oh, please.” Severus sneered. ‘Lose that ridiculous affected accent and stop
pretending you know nothing of the Dark Lord’s rise after what happened with
the dragon at the first task.’ He held Karkaroff’s gaze firmly. “You’ve done
nothing but clutch at your Mark since you arrived and more since last week’s
events.” He smiled without humour. “I’m sure you’re being reminded who is your
Master after your deplorable lack of holding your tongue at your trial.”

“As will you in time.” Karkaroff snapped out before flushing, realising he had
just admitted that Severus had guessed correctly.

Severus didn’t allow any of his satisfaction show. Really Karkaroff was an
idiot. Karkaroff had all but confirmed that the suspicions of the War Council
and Moody were correct; that Karkaroff was the weak link — and Severus hadn’t
even had to try that hard. “Ah, but I was a traitor at the Dark Lord’s
instruction.” He said silkily. “And thus no traitor at all.”

“So you say.” Karkaroff muttered.

“Karkaroff, would I be sending the Dark Lord a message if I wasn’t certain of
my welcome?” Severus snapped impatiently. He adjusted his robes, smoothing
down the black austere lines once again. “He is clearly gaining in strength
and I am impressed at what he and his new circle have accomplished but he is
not facing Albus Dumbledore and a disorganised Ministry this time but a
powerful Lord Black, an equally powerful if youthful Potter, and a Ministry
keen to thwart his every move. I have continued in my service as his spy and I
have information our Lord needs.”

Karkaroff regarded him sulkily. “I should report you to the Aurors.”

Severus smiled evilly. “Oh, I rather think your keeper would see you dead
before you could get one word past those loose lips of yours, Karkaroff.”

Karkaroff stared at him in shock.

“You’re a traitor, Karkaroff,” Severus pointed out dryly, “the Dark Lord would
have made certain of your loyalty this time and taken reasonable precautions.”

He was pleased when Karkaroff flushed red and looked away, unable to hold
Severus’s contemptuous glare.

“What do you want, Snape?” Karkaroff snapped.

“As I said,” Snape said evenly, “I have a message for our Lord.”

Karkaroff gestured at him. “Well, what is it?”

Severus laughed briefly. “I’m hardly going to give it *you*, Karkaroff. You
will tell your keeper that I have information to relay to the Dark Lord, and
I’m sure arrangements will be made that do not involve you at all.”

“I am not a messenger boy!” Karkaroff stated forcefully, going red in the face
again.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You’re whatever the Dark Lord wishes you to be,
Karkaroff, or you’ll be dead.” He made a shooing gesture. ‘Run along and relay
my message to your babysitter.’ He stared at him hard. “And know that I will
know if you do not and will not be pleased.” He let another cruel smile drift
over his lips. “It would be a shame if an unfortunate potion found its way
into your food.”

Karkaroff huffed and walked away quickly with an air of a man wanting
desperately to run but knowing it would only provoke the predator behind him
into attacking if he did.

Severus waited until he was out of sight before he gave a cough to alert his
cohort that they were clear.

Moody yanked the invisibility cloak away, appearing on the bench behind
Severus with a grunt. “I was right.”

“Yes,” Severus agreed dryly, ‘and thank you for the back-up but as you can
see,’ he made a dismissive motion in the direction Karkaroff had disappeared,
“it was not necessary.”

Moody harrumphed. “He’s a bloody idiot alright, but even bloody idiots are
dangerous when cornered and I would say he’s well and truly boxed in.”

Severus had no argument to muster in opposition. He hummed instead.

“Well, he’s at least confirmed he’s involved.” Moody said grimly. “You think
he’ll pass the message on?”

“He will.” Severus said with certainty. It was more than Karkaroff’s life was
worth to mess with the Dark Lord’s spy getting in touch with him.

“And then?” pressed Moody.

“And then I will receive a summons.” Severus said simply. “Whether it will be
to the Dark Lord or one of his latest lieutenants…” that he didn’t know. He
rather suspected that the Dark Lord would keep him at a distance; utilising
him but not placing himself at risk of a double cross.

“I’d best get on with the patrol.” Moody said. “You should head up and report
to Black. Let him know you’ve made contact.”

Severus desperately kept the automatic wince from crossing his impassive
features. “Very well.” He’d also let the Headmaster know.

Moody whirled the invisibility cloak over him and disappeared from view.
Severus could hardly make out the DADA Professor’s passage out of the garden.
He made his own way out of a different exit. He hovered in the entrance of the
Great Hall, musing on whether it would be best to see Albus and allow the old
wizard to inform Black rather than tackle it himself. But the thought that he
was reluctant because he feared Black had him turning his feet toward the
tower and Black’s suite of rooms with Potter.

The house elf answered the door and ushered him into the living area. Severus
looked around with interest. The space was cosy, warm and welcoming. A host of
photographs were crammed onto the mantelpiece and Severus examined them
swiftly, settling on a muggle picture of Lily, young and carefree, smiling up
at the camera.

“Snape.” Black’s voice sounded from Severus’s right and he turned to see Black
dressed entirely in muggle clothing in the doorway to an adjoining room. “Come
through.” He instructed, withdrawing and forcing Snape to comply.

Snape felt a frisson of frustration but he swallowed it and warily entered the
unknown space. It was a study, he realised immediately. It was a small room,
no larger than Snape’s own office off the main lab in the dungeons. Black’s
desk sat off to the left; one chair in front of it, another comfortable
visitor chair beside it. There were shelves filled with books along the right
wall, broken up only by the fireplace which had a cosy seating area in front
of it. A window looking out onto the grounds dominated the wall facing
Severus. The curtains were still wide open despite the hour and Severus could
see the glint of stars in the inky sky beyond.

He was slightly surprised when Black directed him to the seating area and
didn’t make him stand or take the lower visitor position at his desk. He
realised why a moment later, his eyes taking in the stack of parchments Black
was obviously in the middle of reading perched on the arm of a chair.

“Would you like any refreshments?” asked Black civilly. “Tea, coffee,
whiskey?”

“No,” Severus snapped immediately before he moderated his tone and offered a
conciliatory gesture, ‘thank you, but I’ve just finished dinner.’ He frowned
at the heavy silence that permeated the rooms. “Potter?”

Black pointed Severus at the seat opposite his own as he sat. “He’s holding a
meeting of the Heirs of the Potter alliance, and some of his other friends and
supporters, to talk about the second task in some room Dobby found for Harry
up on the seventh floor.” He made a dismissive wave. “I take it you made your
move with Karkaroff?”

“I’ve made contact,” Severus confirmed, sitting stiffly in the offered chair,
‘and he confirmed through his reactions and responses that he is involved with
the Dark Lord and has some kind of keeper holding his leash.’ He paused. “I
expect to be called to see Crouch Junior within a week to relay the message I
told them I had.”

“Not Voldie himself?” Black questioned, tapping his fingers restlessly on top
of the parchments.

“Unlikely, in my opinion.” Severus said. ‘The Dark Lord is too vulnerable
within the body of the child; he will keep his location secret until he is at
full strength. But I think he still believes me loyal enough to continue as
his spy, although I may have to do some grovelling over my hampering
Quirrell.’ He inclined his head. “I think he will send his most trusted
lieutenant in his stead and thus…”

“Junior.” Black nodded sharply. “Makes sense.”

“My impression is that Karkaroff is acting under duress.” Severus continued.
“Moody will confirm my observation.”

Black raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Severus stared at him blankly in surprise. He shook it away. “Karkaroff is a
dead man walking. On some level I think he knows it.”

“He has to,” Black agreed, “I saw enough on the continent to know if someone
was captured as a traitor, they were given no quarter.”

“You were captured yourself.” Severus murmured. He’d been gleeful at the time
when the news had trickled down to him but he felt the first stirrings of
shame at his previous response, knowing what Black must have been subjected to
in his captivity. Still, Black had managed to kill his captors when he’d
escaped.

“Ah, yes,” Black said cheerfully, ‘well, I don’t remember much of *that*
experience thankfully.’ He motioned at Severus. “But I do remember that spying
is its own kind of hell. I appreciate your agreement to approach Karkaroff.”

Severus nodded slowly, absorbing Black’s sincerity. “It will be worth it if it
leads to the death of the Dark Lord.”

“Or the saving of innocents.” Black waved at the parchments. “We lucked out
with the information about the werewolf attacks. Amelia and her team have put
together a good counter operation, but if Sian hadn’t come forward…”

Severus shivered. He remembered all too well the brief moment when he had
glimpsed the fury of a werewolf and the thought of knowing that kind of attack
was imminent…

“It’s not the full moon so they won’t be fully transformed.” Black continued.
“Still, they can do a lot of damage with just teeth and claws in a partial
transformation.”

“I’m surprised to hear you admit that since you put me in the path of one.”
The words escaped him before Severus could stop them and he berated himself
furiously for the slip because whatever truce had existed between them in
their previous exchange disappeared abruptly.

Black glared at him. “Please; you set up that attack when we were at school.
You know it, I know it, and thankfully Dumbledore knew it at the time.”

Severus rose from his seat and gathered his robes. “I shall take my leave and
inform the Headmaster of my meeting with Karkaroff.”

“Do that.” Black said tersely.

He was almost at the study door when Black called out for him to wait. He
turned around and found Black on his feet, his hands in fists at his side, but
a determined expression on his face.

“Yes?” Severus prompted snappily.

“We have to work together.” Black stated grimly, his low voice carrying across
the space between them. “I don’t like you and you don’t like me, and I doubt
that will ever change given our history.”

His words echoed Severus’s thoughts from dinner and he made to nod briskly but
then Black’s grey eyes met Severus’s, and Severus almost took a step back at
the fierce anger that burned there.

“You plotted to get Remus executed and made me an accessory to it. It… it
tainted my friendship with Remus for years after. I won’t ever forgive you for
that or for telling Voldemort about the prophecy.” Black shifted weight,
rocking a little back on his heels, some of the passion in his gaze dying.
‘But I’m prepared to admit that I was a… a *bully* to you for a large part of
the time when we were at school, Snape.’ He snorted. “Under the new
anti-bullying policy here, James and I would have been expelled a thousand
times over, and I’ve wondered these last few weeks whether you would have been
so quick to fall in with the Death Eaters had James and I simply left you
alone, and allowed you your friendship with Lily without interference. So,” he
breathed in deeply, “I don’t expect you to forgive me either. But…”

“But we have to work together.” Severus repeated quietly, shocked in truth
that Black had admitted his culpability for Severus’s school days torment.

“And as much as I hate to say it we need to trust each other in this if
nothing else. So: a truce.” Black offered grimly. “We leave the past in the
past and focus on our mutual goal of seeing Voldemort die once and for all.”

“Agreed.” Severus said quickly, recognising the truth in Black’s words. “A
truce.”

Black nodded slowly in acknowledgement.

“I should still report to the Headmaster.” Severus said, with a wave toward
the door behind him.

“Give Albus my best.” Black sat down and picked up a parchment.

Severus knew it was his signal to leave. He swept out of the study, through
the living area, and out of the portrait. He paused in the corridor outside.

Respect.

He remembered his thoughts after dinner and grimaced; whatever new respect
they had for each other clearly wasn’t enough for them to work together
without occasionally butting heads. They had possibly needed to clear the air
and address their enmity too. Severus reluctantly admired how Black had
swallowed his pride to offer the truce at all. But it spoke to Black’s
determination to see the Dark Lord defeated; to Black’s need to protect Potter
first and foremost because nothing was more important to Black — not petty
school boy rivalries or past decisions that had led to nothing but heartache
for them all.

And if Black could do it so could Severus.

He gave a firm nod as though to underscore his new resolve where Black and
Potter were concerned, and made his way to the Headmaster’s office with
renewed purpose.

o-O-o

Harry rubbed at his scar absentmindedly as Neville whistled for everyone’s
attention. He gazed around the Room of Requirement, noting the configuration
that Hermione had thought up.

It wasn’t unlike the training room in his quarters. One area was arranged as a
duelling area; another was clearly staked out as a research point with tables,
books, paper and pens (actual pens, Harry noted with amusement, and not
quills); and, a final section acted as a planning area with a table staked out
like a battlefield surrounded by several blackboards. One was already filled
with the clues for the second task neatly labelled in Hermione’s writing.

There were a couple of differences; namely, a table at the back held a variety
of refreshments gleefully maintained by Dobby and Kreacher, and there was a
gathering area with a variety of seating off to one side for group
discussions. Such as the one they were having at that moment, Harry thought
amused as Neville wrangled them all into silence and nodded at Harry to begin.

Harry cleared his throat. “So thank you all for coming,” he adjusted his
stance; hands behind his back, legs slightly apart, “and I’d also like to
thank everyone for their help with the first task…”

A huge cheer went up from the Weasley twins, rapidly followed by applause and
whistles from everyone else, except the Slytherins who clapped but didn’t join
in the more obvious boisterousness. Neville waited a moment before he shushed
everybody again.

“Thanks,” Harry said, waving off the plaudits, “but I couldn’t have done it
without you guys supporting me. The research teams were invaluable in working
out the first task was a creature and the spells I needed to learn; the
duelling team were excellent at helping me practice; and I can’t tell you how
much it’s meant to know that I have my own cheering section and sounding
boards.” He figured he was bright red but it was worth it to see how pleased
everyone else was to receive praise for their part.

“I think I speak for us all, Harry,” Neville said, “when I say it was worth
all the work to see you perform so brilliantly.”

There was another round of cheers and Harry was the one to quiet them down
since Neville was also cheering.

“Right then,” Harry said, “as we did so well with the first, we have a lot to
live up to with the second. Hermione…” he motioned at her to take over and she
smiled as she took a step forward.

“As all of you know, the Champions were given clues about the second task
based on the number of eggs they managed to save and Harry received the full
set.” Hermione said briskly. She tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear
with one hand and clutched her notebook closer with her other. ‘Thanks to
Remus, he’s already managed to decipher the clues which were given in the
Mermish language and they take the form of a poem which is on the board.’ She
waved at the blackboard at the planning table. “Water, water, everywhere; of
your prized possession take great care; for prisoners rarely work together;
and time will not last forever.”

“So the language and the words of the poem suggest the lake as a venue.”
Daphne spoke up.

Hermione nodded, her curls bouncing. “Exactly, although whether under or above
water is a question mark. We have to plan for both possibilities. Thanks to
our previous research on the tournament we know both have happened in the
past. I’m going to need a volunteer to research spells needed above and one to
take below.”

“I’ll take above.” Daphne said. “We have a sail boat and I know my father has
a library of spells about sailing.”

“I’ll be below then,” offered Luna, “Daddy and I often go diving when we’re on
our trips and there are all the creatures in the lake to consider as
obstacles.”

Hermione nodded and noted both names down.

“It also sounds like something or someone will be taken hostage.” Draco piped
up, examining his nails as though he wasn’t that interested.

“Yes.” Hermione agreed crisply. “Again, both are a possibility.”

Harry shifted, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Frankly, I’m not fussed
if it’s a some*thing*.” He admitted. “I have very few things that I would
consider a prized possession and while I’d regret losing any of them, for the
most part they’re replaceable. A person is not.”

“Well, that brings up two questions,” Anthony Goldstein asserted, “how would
the Goblet choose and what are your prized possessions in either case?”

Hermione nodded. “The how is the easy part. The judges are requested to supply
a list of possibilities to the Goblet the morning of the day before the task,
and the Goblet immediately chooses something or someone. The criteria for
making the choice which the Goblet will use, was set in the initiation
parameters and the judges are not allowed to tell us what they are. If the
Goblet refuses to make a choice, the judges have to come up with alternatives
until it finds an acceptable match.”

“You can guess at the lists of the possibilities though, Potter.” Theo said.

Harry nodded. He sighed, uncomfortable at giving up what he considered very
personal knowledge about himself but he knew they needed it to plan
effectively. “On the something side: I have a photo album of my parents, my
Firebolt and a couple of family artefacts that have been handed down from my
father.”

There was a moment of silence as they absorbed Harry’s minimal list.

“That’s it?” questioned Draco in disbelief. “That’s all you prize?”

Unsurprisingly Ron bristled immediately. “Some of us don’t need *things* to
get by in life, Malfoy.”

“Only when some of us don’t have things, Weasley.” Draco retorted.

“Enough!” Harry said sharply, sending them both a warning glare.

“Well, the good news is that you have a short list of things to protect.”
Anthony said cheerfully.

“What about your owl, Harry?” Luna said dreamily.

“Hedwig’s not a thing though and she’s definitely not replaceable.” Harry
argued, his heart sinking as he realised he hadn’t considered that Hedwig
probably was considered by others to be among his prized possessions.

“But she should probably be on the list.” Hermione said almost apologetically.
“Possibly both as we don’t know if the judges might deem her a thing or a
being in her own right.”

Harry sighed but accepted the addition of Hedwig with a nod.

“These artefacts,” Anthony said, “I’ve noticed you’ve not said what they are?”

He had hoped he’d get away with not saying.

“One is an invisibility cloak,” Harry said, shifting again as he knew that
wasn’t the whole story behind the cloak, “and one is a map my Dad created
while he was at school.”

“I assume the power of the Goblet overrides any protection on the possession
if it’s a thing?” Anthony asked.

Hermione frowned. “We don’t know. We don’t know if there is any way that Harry
has of protecting his belongings that would get around the Goblet choosing it
as part of the task.”

“Why don’t I take that?” Anthony offered.

“Which leaves the other kind of prized possessions;” the Gryffindor Quidditch
captain spoke up for the first time, “the people you care about.”

Harry nodded at Angelina. “It’s a weird one because we really don’t know what
criteria will be used.”

Lydia raised her hand tentatively. She had quietened down a lot since her
friend Jessica had been expelled for attacking Hermione and she’d been given a
bucketload of detentions along with Ginny. She darted a look towards Hermione
as Harry nodded at her to speak.

“Isn’t Hermione the obvious choice?” She asked.

“Just because your friend decided to make her a target doesn’t meant the
Goblet will.” Ron glared at her, and then Ginny for good measure; Harry had
given up trying to get the younger Weasley siblings talking again.

Ginny blushed bright red. Lydia was made of sterner stuff. She fixed Ron with
a glare of her own.

“It was supposed to be a prank not an attack!” Lydia threw Harry a pleading
look. “We wouldn’t attack Hermione.”

Harry dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. “Both of you are right on
the point of the task; Hermione would be the obvious target as my… as my
girlfriend.” Hermione blushed beside him. “But equally we don’t know that the
criteria would lead the Goblet to choosing her. The Goblet might choose Sirius
as my father or Ron as my best mate, or it could choose anyone who is
notionally under my protection.”

The latter had a rush of murmurs rippling through the gathered students.

Robert Ogden stood up. “That’s a good point and relates to anyone formally in
the alliance in particular.”

“Or a member of one of Potter’s primary Houses; Potter and Black.” Draco said
slowly, horror dawning on his face.

“Oh, please, Malfoy,” Daphne drawled, “as if you’d be chosen as a prized
possession of Potter’s.”

Draco whirled around on her angrily but Harry dived in before he could speak.

“My history with Draco aside, I do consider him a cousin now,” Harry said
firmly, ‘and he’s an important member of the House of Black.’ He sent Draco a
look to settle him. “However, I think you’d agree, Draco, that there are
others in the House who’d probably come before you on a list of
possibilities.”

“So some of us are going to be possibilities,” Neville cut in before Draco
replied, “but some are going to be more likely than others.”

“Can I take the statistical stuff, please?” Natalie Warren held up a hand. “We
can probably work out who the most likely suspects are based on a few example
sets of criteria. That would narrow it down.”

“I think it’s prudent we all learn some basic defence stuff in case we get
taken hostage.” Ron said firmly, crossing his arms. “It’s only a precaution
but…”

“But it’s a reasonable precaution.” Harry concluded with a nod. “It’s a good
suggestion.”

“Who’ll teach us?” Connor piped up.

“Harry.” Ron stated.

Harry’s eyes widened a little at Ron’s declaration but seeing everyone else’s
pleased expressions couldn’t bring himself to argue. “OK. We’ll meet here once
a week for a lesson. Hermione…”

“I’ll work out a time for everyone.” Hermione agreed happily.

Harry hoped Sirius or Remus would help him come up with a lesson plan… maybe
he could ask Moody…

“Right,” Hermione said, bringing everyone back to the issue at hand, “so
Anthony will take research into prized possessions when they are things;
Natalie will handle when they are people; and, we all practice some defence to
ensure we’re not helpless as hostages.”

“We might be able…” Fred began.

“…to come up with…” George added.

“…a couple of things to help.” Fred concluded.

George grinned. “Maybe something…”

“…that will help a hostage…”

“…get free.”

Harry grinned back at them. “Great. Let us know when you have something.”

“You know that line about prisoners suggests that there’ll be more than one.”
Theo said suddenly.

“One for each Champion?” Blaise suggested, speaking up.

“That’s one possibility,” Hermione said, “and would make sense. Why would the
hostages work together? Each is supporting their own Champion.”

“But couldn’t it also suggest that the prisoners will be the Champions
themselves?” Jeremy Branstone argued. “They aren’t meant to work together and
isn’t *life* itself a prized possession?”

“Good point, Jeremy,” Harry said, “especially as the Champions were told not
to talk with each other about this task.”

“So I guess we have three possible scenarios around this point,” Hermione
listed, “one; Harry has to retrieve something that he values; two, Harry has
to retrieve someone that he cares for who will be held prisoner alongside the
other Champions’ hostages; three, that Harry and the other Champions may be
imprisoned and have to rescue themselves, and, or, their prized possession be
it a something or someone.”

“Add in the complexity that we don’t know if it’s above or below the water…”
added Daphne.

“For having clues, there are a lot of bloody unknowns.” Ron said bluntly.

“It wouldn’t be a challenge otherwise.” Blaise pointed out.

Ron sighed as he conceded the point.

“What we have is a lot of work,” Hermione said briskly, “we’re going to need
plans for dealing with each scenario.”

“Which brings us on to duelling and physical practice.” Neville said.
“Obviously we’re some way away from having spell plans for scenarios but we’ll
have the defence lessons and you’re probably going to need to practice
swimming either way, Harry.”

Harry frowned but nodded, relieved that Sirius had taught him to swim in the
Summer at the Valley clinic when they’d had their own pool — their own heated
pool. He needed to think about how he dealt with swimming in the freezing
conditions in the lake in February. He’d talk to Sirius about that, Harry
determined.

“I guess the cheerleading section continues as per usual,” Jeremy said, “clear
up the gossip and support you as much as we can. Are you doing any more
press?”

They’d issued a brief statement after the first task, mostly stating
condolences for the dragon handler who’d died, with an added statement that he
was pleased to get the first task completed and to have established an early
lead.

“I think there’s something planned for the New Year?” Harry shrugged. “I’ll
talk to Sirius. I know he and your Dad have something worked out already.”

Theo coughed discreetly. “You said you couldn’t talk with the other Champions
about the task?”

Harry nodded.

“So *you* can’t ask them if they have the same clues or different ones?” Theo
continued. “Or to coordinate with them on a strategy for their hostages to
work with yours… or for you all to have a plan to work together if you were
the prisoners?”

Harry nodded. “That’s right. I do know Fleur has one clue now because of the
sabotage, Cedric has two and Viktor has three.” Amos Diggory had complained
when Fleur had been granted a clue, pointing out it wasn’t fair to Cedric
who’d actually saved one egg. The new arrangement allowed for Fleur to be
compensated for her dragon being sabotaged while ensuring each Champion had a
clue ratio consistent with their standing in the tournament.

Blaise sent Theo a sympathetic look before focusing on Harry. “You can’t talk
with them but *someone else* could, perhaps?”

And Harry suddenly got it. He blushed a little as he gave Theo an apologetic
smile. “Ah, yes, I guess. I mean, Bagman said we couldn’t talk to each other
about it before the task, I think? So… it’s possibly best that I don’t know
about anyone else talking with other Champions or what was specifically
discussed either? Just to be on the safe side?”

Theo nodded. “Understood.”

Blaise frowned. “And the caveat is before the task, right? Which means there’s
nothing stopping you from talking to each other once the task begins.”

He hadn’t thought of that, Harry mused inwardly and gave a nod.

“Right then; I think we’re done for tonight.” Neville declared. “Thanks,
everyone!”

It took a while for everyone to leave. People meandered out in twos and
threes, chatting away about their new assignments. He was pleased that most
were bubbling over with enthusiasm and excitement.

Draco approached him as the room was almost empty. “Cousin.”

Harry nodded at him cautiously. “Cousin.” He knew it was Draco’s method of
announcing that what he had to say was family business.

“I have a date with Katherine Gillingwood.” Draco said. “The Gillingwoods are
a pureblood family who own a great deal of land, some of it bordering the
Black estates. They are not politically active per se but have contributed to
Minister Fudge’s campaigns in the past. I’d like to introduce her to you and
Lord Black tomorrow night.”

“She’s very pretty.” Neville commented. “Third year Slytherin. The
Gillingwoods went abroad during the last skirmish with Voldemort.”

Harry nodded his thanks at the additional information. “Shall we say six
o’clock, Draco?” Harry replied. It was an inconvenience but it was part of the
agreement he’d made with Draco and he’d keep to it.

Draco smiled. “I’ll inform Katherine.” It was his parting comment and Harry
couldn’t quite prevent the sigh of relief that escaped him at Draco’s
departure.

Eventually, it was just Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville. Harry poked the boys
and gave them his best ‘please leave Hermione and me alone’ look while
Hermione was distracted, packing up her book bag. Ron rolled his eyes but
allowed a smirking Neville to drag him out before Hermione noticed.

It was just in time.

Hermione raised her head and looked surprised at finding herself alone with
Harry. She smiled shyly at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Harry said giddily. Their first date had gone splendidly as had their
second. He hurriedly leaned in for a soft kiss and was pleased when Hermione
responded enthusiastically. He had to pull himself away. ‘This isn’t why I
wanted you alone. I mean,’ he continued rueful honesty, “not the only reason.”

Hermione grinned back at him. “Oh?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to find the perfect time but there hasn’t been one
so…” Harry swiftly reached down to the floor by the refreshments table and
plucked his invisibility cloak away to reveal a small box. He offered it to
Hermione, nervous again. “I’d like you to accept this token of my regard and
hope that you will do me the honour of escorting you to the Yule Ball.”

Hermione’s face lit up and Harry felt relief swamp him as she immediately
nodded.

“I’ve been wondering when you were going to ask me.” Hermione said with a
bright laugh. “Viktor was joking the other day that he’d take me if you didn’t
get a move on.”

Harry laughed. Viktor was intensely jealous that Harry had someone who wasn’t
bothered by his fame as Viktor himself had problems finding someone like
Hermione — someone who liked him for who he was rather than someone captured
by his Quidditch success and persona.

“Open the box.” Harry encouraged, eager for her to see the present now the
hard part of the invitation was out of the way.

Hermione glanced at him curiously but carefully undid the ribbon and opened
the lid. Her mouth formed a wide ‘O’ as she drew out the snow globe where a
miniature Hogwarts was covered in an everlasting fall of snow. “Oh, Harry!”
She exclaimed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Sirius helped me.” Harry said, answering her unspoken question of whether
he’d made it. “Apparently my Dad used to make my Mum one for every ball they
attended.”

Hermione reached across the space between them and kissed him. “I love it and,
for the record, I would love to attend the Yule Ball with you.”

Harry grinned and they were kissing again, Hermione holding fast to the globe.

A knock on the door had them both breaking away with a guilty expression.

“Aren’t you guys done yet?” Ron’s strident voice drifted through the wood.

Hermione sighed and put her globe back in the box, reaching for her packed
bag. “We really have to get him together with Lavender.”

“Or anyone.” Harry agreed as he clasped her free hand in his and began the
walk to the door. “Anyone at all!”

o-O-o

*7**th* *December 1994*

The Burrow was quiet in the middle of the night.

Percy stared up at the ceiling above his bed and brooded about the state of
his life. It seemed incredible to him that just a few short months before he
had been thrilled with his life; good job with prospects and a solid beginning
for his political ambitions, a lovely girlfriend, and his family even
embracing good connections to revive their status as an Ancient and Noble
House. His dreams all lay in ashes.

He had no job, no prospects and he had let Penny go rather than keep her
tethered to a dead weight such as he. He was a failure.

Why hadn’t he questioned the way Crouch had changed after returning from flu?
His remembered pleasure at being finally recognised for his hard work soured
his stomach.

Percy heaved a huge sigh into the darkness. He couldn’t sleep again. He felt
restless, drifting like a useless piece of flotsam on the river of life. His
thoughts turned relentlessly over in his head; what was he going to do? He
couldn’t live with his parents for the rest of his life, and he doubted
whether even his mother’s patience would last forever.

He tossed his blankets aside and rolled out of bed. Maybe a glass of warm milk
would help. He crept out of his room and down the stairs, careful to avoid the
places that creaked and would bring his mother running.

The living area glowed amber with the last of the fire’s embers; a single
chair puddled in the yellow light of an oil lamp. He paused at the sight of
his father, dressed for bed and wrapped up in an old flannel dressing gown,
reading. His Dad looked up from his book and blinked at the sight of Percy in
his pristine pinstriped pyjamas hovering.

“Can’t sleep?” His Dad said evenly, keeping his voice low.

Percy shook his head, feeling like he was nine rather than the nineteen years
of age he was.

His Dad set his book aside. “Warm milk?” He was up and into the kitchen before
Percy could reply.

Percy trailed after him. He felt awkward around his Dad, too aware that he had
been dismissive of his father’s advice about getting too close to Crouch,
working too hard, and alienating his colleagues. His Dad had refrained from
telling him ‘told you so’ but Percy was all too aware that he deserved that
and more.

He thought again of how close his family had come to dying at the World Cup,
how pained Bill still looked occasionally. He shivered.

His Dad pottered around the kitchen and Percy slipped into a chair at the
table. Eventually a warm glass of milk was placed in front of him and his Dad
sat down with a glass of his own.

“I should tell you,” his Dad said conversationally, “that the reason why I’m
up is that we might have a werewolf attack tonight.”

Percy almost choked on his milk. “What?!”

“Remus got wind of a rumour that Fenrir Greyback is supposed to menace Harry’s
supporters tonight.” His Dad said, calm considering the news he was imparting.
“Amelia’s posted a couple of Aurors to watch the Burrow, but I thought I’d
stay up and keep watch myself too.”

“Does Mum know?” asked Percy worriedly, glancing up the stairs.

“No, I didn’t want to get her upset. Bill knows but Alicia asked him to stay
over with her and Elphias so he’s there.” His Dad confirmed. ‘It may not
happen.’ He raised his glass. “Or it may happen to someone else.”

“But you think it will happen to us?” Percy noted.

“We’re known to be one of Harry’s closest supporters and we’ve already been
targeted once.” His Dad shrugged. “I’d be sticking my head in the sand if I
didn’t consider the possibility that we’re top of the list.”

Percy suddenly wished he’d thought to bring his wand with him. He took a sip
of his milk. “Well, I might as well stay up and keep you company.” He offered
a little hesitantly.

His Dad’s eyes gleamed with an approval that eased something in Percy. “I’d
like that. Thank you, Percy.”

They sat for a moment in silence.

“I’m sorry.” Percy blurted out. “I’m sorry for all of it. I thought… I just
wanted to establish myself and prove that I was ambitious and had drive and
initiative and…” And that he wasn’t like his Dad, content to drift in a
department he might enjoy but which didn’t have potential — or hadn’t had
potential until Sirius had intervened.

“And it’s not your fault that Crouch Junior took advantage of that to get the
information he needed for his plans to hurt Harry and us.” His Dad said
firmly.

Percy lowered his gaze to the table. “It feels like I should have *known*.”

“According to everyone I’ve talked to,” his Dad replied, ‘Crouch Junior is a
very intelligent, very insane and obsessed individual. You were lucky all he
did was play you for information, Percy.’ His eyes shone behind his glasses.
“We’re just thankful you’re still alive.”

Percy hadn’t considered that in his brooding. He shivered again, suddenly cold
in the warm cosy kitchen of his home.

“I don’t know what to do now.” Percy admitted with a heartfelt sigh. “I wanted
to be Minister one day and now…” he winced, “I’ll always remain the idiot who
didn’t realise that he was working for an imposter because he was so caught up
in enjoying the attention from his boss.”

“Nothing is an impossibility, Percy,” his Dad chided gently, ‘there are plenty
of redemption stories out there.’ He motioned with his glass. “I would never
have thought that Sirius Black would be Lord Black and leading us regardless
of Cornelius being Minister.”

Percy gave a hum at that because it was very true; nobody could have guessed
at what had happened with Sirius.

“All I’ve ever wanted to do is work at the Ministry,” Percy said plaintively,
“I never truly considered another career.”

His Dad nodded. “Well, now you have to and that’s maybe not a bad thing,
Percy. Maybe this happened because it wasn’t the right path for you to
follow.”

Percy frowned as he considered that. What path had he been on truly?

In hindsight, he wondered at how much he had pushed colleagues away in his
ambition and determination to outperform them at every level. He’d also pushed
his family away, considering them a liability to his ambitions more than
anything since their revival as an Ancient and Noble House had been so new and
they’d never been interested before.

His family had never deserved his scorn; he knew that deep down. His father
might not have worked for an important department for a while and he may have
been considered without power by some, but he was well liked, well respected
and considered an honourable man. His mother had worked hard to raise them
all. Bill and Charlie had good careers and his younger siblings might need to
mature but they were smart and likely to do well once they did. Perhaps, he
mused seriously, all his path at the Ministry had done was to turn him into a
person he wasn’t sure he liked in retrospect.

“Maybe you’re right.” Percy admitted quietly. “I guess I hadn’t really thought
about it in those terms.”

His Dad hummed. “When I was your age, I wanted to do a study of actually
living in the muggle world; write a book, become the foremost authority on
muggles, maybe end up teaching back at Hogwarts. Your Mum was supportive and
we’d both secured jobs so we could save a nest egg to fund it. But then… we
found all our plans upset by Bill’s unexpected advent into our lives.”

Percy’s eyes opened wide. He hadn’t realised that Bill had been an accident.

“So, I stayed with the job at the Ministry because we needed the income and,
well, that was that.” His Dad said. “And yet here I am years later; considered
the foremost authority on muggles, interacting with them and their world on a
regular basis in my new role, and the rest of it may come to fruition yet.”

“You took a different path but you ended up where you wanted to be in the
end.” Percy said out loud.

“And I have seven wonderful children including you that we probably wouldn’t
have had otherwise.” His Dad said with a smile.

Percy smiled back ruefully. “I don’t think I’ve been so wonderful recently.”

“You’re not the first to go through a tough time.” His Dad murmured. “You
should ask Charlie why he didn’t try out for Quidditch teams.”

Percy stared at his Dad with blatant curiosity.

“Not my story to tell,” his Dad said, “you should ask Charlie.”

“What should I do?” Percy asked. “I never really considered any other career.
I don’t even know what I’m qualified to do.”

“There are a lot of possibilities out there, Percy.” His Dad said. “You should
consider what you enjoy doing; what you would be good at.”

Percy nodded. “I… I sometimes thought about law, I guess, when I was young.
But you need a sponsor to get a Mastery and I never knew a solicitor to ask
and I didn’t think it was possible really.”

“Maybe we can introduce you to Brian Cutter.” His Dad said. “I’m sure even if
he can’t sponsor you, he can give you some good advice or point you in the
right direction.”

It rankled that he needed help but Percy swallowed his pride and nodded
briskly. “That sounds good.”

His Dad stiffened suddenly. “Something’s crossed the outer ward by the
orchard.”

Percy tensed.

Merlin! They were being attacked!

A lizard patronus, a chameleon, suddenly glided through the wall, startling
them both.

“Stay inside!” Tonks’s voice said when the patronus opened its mouth. “We have
two werewolves on the move!”

His Dad stood up and unholstered his wand anyway.

Percy stood up and motioned vaguely in the right direction. “I’m going to get
my wand!”

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement just charged out of the kitchen and up
the stairs. It took him less than a minute to locate it on his bedside table
but as he reached for it, he heard the smash of glass below as a window at the
front broke.

He froze.

“Stay out! I’m armed!” His Dad yelled.

Percy didn’t think twice about it. He grabbed his wand and rushed downstairs
to help defend their home.

His Dad was crouched behind a chair, firing silver javelin curses toward the
broken window. Percy dived behind the nearest chair, aimed his wand and did
the same.

There was a howl from outside that chilled Percy’s bones and then… silence.

Was it over?

His Dad stood up carefully, signalling Percy to stay down. He walked gingerly
over to the window and…

A brick flew through the dark and slammed into his father’s shoulder; he flew
backwards and landed with a thump, his head glancing off the leg of the dining
table.

“Dad!” Percy shouted. He scrambled out from behind the chair, scurrying across
the floor to check on his Dad, so motionless on the ground.

Hands grabbed his pyjama top from behind and Percy yelped as he felt it tear
as he struggled to get free. A clawed hand slapped his forgotten wand away and
clamped around his chest. He was held fast when he tried to desperately pry
the hairy arm from his body. He found himself being dragged backwards towards
the broken window, legs scrabbling wildly against the wooden floor as he tried
to free himself.

“Let me go!” Percy screamed.

His Dad moaned and shifted on the floor in response.

A sudden whistle through the air was the only warning as a silver javelin
curse impacted the werewolf, throwing Percy clear at last, the pyjama top
tearing again as the werewolf tried to hold onto him anyway.

“Get away from my son!” His Mum looked like an avenging angel in her white
flowered nightie, her red hair sticking up wildly, as she brandished her wand
like the weapon it was. She threw another silver javelin curse at the rapidly
retreating werewolf and then another.

Percy finally got a glimpse of his attacker; a youngish man, partially
transformed into a wolf — a muzzle distorted his face and his claws were
viciously sharp, the dim firelight glinting off the lethal tips.

He regained his senses enough to hurry towards his dropped wand; to turn and
stun the werewolf cowering from his Mum’s curses against the wall underneath
the broken window.

His Mum breathed out heavily and nodded her thanks at him. Her eyes went wide
at the sound of his Dad groaning.

“Arthur!”

“Dad!”

Percy was closer but his Mum beat him to it, already casting diagnostics.

His Dad attempted to get up only to get pushed down again by his insistent
wife.

“No, Arthur, you’ve hit your head.” His Mum’s tone had a touch of hysteria in
it.

“I’m fine, Molly.” His Dad insisted.

There was a bang on the door.

They all froze.

“Mister Weasley?!” Tonks’ voice sounded from the other side of the door.
“Mister Weasley, are you alright?”

“Answer the door, Percy!” His Mum said, gesturing for him to answer it.

Percy went with alacrity. He hurled the front door open and pointed at the
unconscious werewolf.

“One of them got past you!” He said, more accusingly than he had meant to. “My
Dad’s hurt; he needs a healer.”

Tonks nodded grimly. “Let me secure the prisoner and we’ll call a healer for
your Dad.” She hurried inside and cuffed the werewolf with heavy steel chains.
She floated him out of the Burrow where a large mage light ball hung
illuminating the area. Percy followed as she handed the werewolf off to
another Auror who immediately apparated.

“He’ll be placed into secure holding at headquarters for questioning.” Tonks
promised. “That’s the last of them. Greyback wasn’t with them. Two of them
tried the back, sent the other round the front. He stunned the Auror we had
posted there.”

Percy grimaced. “He’s alright though? The Auror.”

“His pride’s wounded mostly. He’s already gone back.” Tonks said as she peered
at Percy. “It looks like we should get you inside and have a healer look at
you too.”

“Hmmm?” Percy looked down to where her eyes had zeroed in on him. His pyjama
top hung in rags and across his stomach were five long thin scratches, the
sting of them suddenly making itself known as the adrenaline faded.

He’d been scratched.

By a werewolf.

“Merlin!” He murmured weakly.

Tonks placed a hand on his shoulder steadying him. “Come on, Percy. Let’s get
you inside and we’ll call the healer.”

“I’m scratched.” He said helplessly. “I’ve been scratched.”

Tonks nodded as she guided him back into the Burrow. “I know, Percy. I know.
It’s going to be OK.”

Holding Onto Pronglet: Chapter 2
================================

*8**th* *December 1994*

“We have nine werewolves in custody, another four got away including
Greyback.” Amelia said as soon as she entered Cornelius’s office for the
impromptu War Council. She accepted the cup of tea Bertie pressed on her. She
looked calm and collected but Sirius knew she had hardly slept a wink.

Sirius nodded at her. Her numbers tallied with the numbers Remus had relayed
to him during the early hours of the morning. “Thirteen werewolves; and four
targets with Greyback attempting to get to your good self, Amelia.” He listed
from memory.

Amelia gave a huff. “It’s a pity I wasn’t home,” she said belligerently, “I
would have loved a go at him. By the time the wards alerted me and I got
there, he was long gone.”

Cornelius looked at her in disbelief. “Rather you than me.”

“He left a message.” Amelia said tersely. “The body of a young lamb with the
name Susan written on it in blood.”

“Fenrir will not be able to reach her in Hogwarts.” Albus reassured her.

“Especially now we know the Durmstrang ship is the likely point of entry for
Riddle’s associates.” Sirius added. “The kids are taking precautions too.
They’ve set up a good buddy system.”

Amelia breathed out. “Three other homes were hit; the Weasley’s, the
Longbottom’s and Dirk Cresswell’s. The only casualties were at the Weasley’s;
Arthur was knocked out for a while although the healer has cleared him for
work this morning and Percy who is at home receiving treatment for scratches.”

Bertie sighed. “He’s very lucky it wasn’t a full moon and the scratches were
given by a werewolf partially transformed otherwise he would have contracted
lycanthropy himself.”

“He thought he had.” Sirius muttered.

“He’ll still be scarred for life.” Amelia retorted, but she softened her hard
words with a nod of agreement. “He was lucky.”

“The press this morning has been very positive.” Cornelius said brightly,
picking up his cup and saucer. He pointed at the Prophet laid out on his desk.
“Rita managed to capture all the salient points.”

“It was a good article.” Sirius admitted grudgingly. He really didn’t like
Skeeter but she had her uses.

The article that morning certainly played to the alliance’s rather than to
Wenlock’s agenda. It had celebrated the capture of the rogue werewolves; had
given credit to law-abiding werewolves who’d blown the whistle on the imminent
attacks because they supported the recent push for new laws. There was a
strong statement from Augusta which questioned why the supporters of fairer
laws had been the subject of the attacks, casting suspicion on the other
political side as the originators. Augusta should have been a Slytherin,
Sirius thought with amusement. He would have liked to have seen Wenlock’s face
when he’d seen the article.

More importantly, Sirius mused as he sipped his coffee, the article and the
events of the previous night had sent a clear message to Voldemort; that
Fenrir had ultimately failed his mission to derail the alliance, to hassle and
hurt them. Arthur was more determined than ever in the wake of the attack and
the whole affair seemed to have given Percy a good kick up the arse. When
Sirius had paid them a call at breakfast, Percy had been up at the table
eating a veritable mountain of bacon and sausage, and had been talking about
retraining as a solicitor focused on werewolf rights. It looked like Remus had
been right about Percy, Sirius considered ruefully; the young wizard had
needed to find his own way.

“We’ve come out of this remarkably unscathed.” Albus commented. There was a
hint of disbelief in his voice. “I fear this will only enrage Tom to greater
acts of defiance.”

Sirius hummed. “He’ll certainly be pissed at Fenrir’s failure.” He set his cup
down, glancing at the clock. “We owe much of our success last night to the
information Sian provided to Remus and Tonks.”

“Fenrir is going to have to address the dissension in the ranks of his pack.”
Bertie theorised. “That should keep him busy for a while and unable to assist
Riddle with any plans.”

“He’s likely to discover that you and Remus have offered sanctuary.” Amelia
sighed. “Are you and Remus prepared for that?”

“We already have a better location chosen for such a scenario. The chateau
will become a way-station.” Sirius said. ‘All the werewolves taking refuge in
our pack know there is a risk Fenrir will react once he’s aware of the exodus
from his own.’ He shifted uncomfortable with the truth of what he was about to
say. “Remus is also very aware that ultimately it may come down to a fight
between him and Fenrir. He’s…” he struggled to find the words to fit,
“prepared is the wrong word but…”

“Accepting such a thing will come to pass?” suggested Bertie.

Sirius nodded. “He’s returning to France today to shift everyone to the
secondary location.”

“Sian?” Amelia asked.

“Staying at The School House in Hogsmeade. Kreacher is taking care of her.”
Sirius said. “She’s shaken up but holding steady.” He still didn’t like her
much. It wasn’t rational but in some way he blamed Sian for drawing Remus away
from himself and James in the past. And yet probably out of all the werewolf
contacts Remus had made back then, she was the one that had done the least to
attract Remus to the packs.

Sirius pushed the thought away and gestured at the clock. “We should all get
to the chamber.”

“Indeed.” Albus said, rising with surprising grace.

The group made their way through the Ministry corridors to the Wizengamot
chamber, drawing looks and murmurs with every wizard and witch they passed.
They entered the Wizengamot together and Sirius knew they made a statement;
the head of the DMLE, the head of the DOM, the Minister, the Chief Warlock and
himself all together.

Wenlock’s face was a picture.

Sirius felt a rush of satisfaction similar to the rush he’d once gotten when
they’d played a good prank — not one of the malicious ones but one of the
funny make-everyone-laugh types. He parted ways with the others as he walked
up the steps to take his seat, the rest of the Wizengamot Houses rising in
respect, although Sirius noted that Wenlock was the last to rise and he sat
almost with Sirius rather than after him. It was a small rebellion but one
that told Wenlock’s supporters that Wenlock was after Sirius’s position; was
close behind and would one day have the Houses stand for him, sit for him.
Since Sirius found the whole sitting thing bizarre in the first place, he was
mostly amused by Wenlock’s pettiness.

Augusta nodded at him across the chamber; she looked fierce in red, her head
held high. According to the Auror’s report, she had whacked one of the
werewolves across the back of the head with a cricket bat. He glanced at
Arthur and was relieved to see him looking well despite the fading bruise on
his temple. A glance up at the public gallery had Sirius connecting gazes with
Amos Diggory. He looked just as furious as he had at the previous Wizengamot
and Sirius wondered whether angry was Diggory’s current constant state of
being.

The Wizengamot was called to order, allowing Sirius to break his glaring
stand-off, and the usual agenda progressed with little fanfare or surprises.
There were a couple of Heir announcements including a change of Heir for Flint
that interested Sirius. Marcus Flint had apparently split with his father over
the issue of the Dark Lord’s genealogy. Sirius cast a glance toward Lucius who
made a cautious nod of agreement; he’d speak to the boy through Draco, assess
whether Marcus Flint could be an ally or, at least, a neutral.

The agenda moved on.

Sirius chatted with Richard Bones during the break as he normally did. Richard
was unsurprisingly concerned by the message that Fenrir had left at Amelia’s
and Sirius did his best to allay Richard’s concerns while recognising that
Richard had genuine cause to be concerned.

Finally the last item of the agenda was called; the report from the Committee
reviewing the Magical Creature laws.

Dirk Cresswell shifted to the centre of the Wizengamot to make his report. He
opened his mouth to speak and…

Wenlock stood up. “Point of order, Chief Warlock!”

The entire Wizengamot shifted to look at Wenlock. He’d made an effort with his
appearance, Sirius realised. The robes were new, a dark authoritative blue
colour but old fashioned in style; set to emphasise conservatism and security.
His crest was prominent on the breast of the robes, silver thread catching the
light and drawing the eye. Wenlock had obviously taken care in his grooming;
not a hair was out of place. He made a solid impression and had clearly
learned over the previous months that style was just as important as substance
in the political arena. It was also clearly the opposite of Sirius’s own style
which displayed his physicality and emphasised his reputation as a former Hit
Wizard, a battle mage. ‘Here,’ Wenlock was saying, ‘see how safe I am compared
to the dangerous Black.’ Sirius was somewhat amused again.

“Lord Wenlock.” Dullard, the clerk was on his feet, glaring at Wenlock. “What
is your point of order?”

Wenlock sneered at him; he’d addressed Albus not Dullard but the clerk was
resolute and Wenlock finally spoke.

“Due to changed circumstances, any member of the Wizengamot can call for a
Committee to be dissolved and all suspended or withdrawn laws made under that
Committee’s purview to be voted immediately back into law.” He drew himself
up. “After recent events, I wish to make such a call in regards to the
Committee to Review the Magical Creature and Races Laws.”

An outbreak of chatter in the public gallery accompanied the knowing looks
exchanged across the floor of the Wizengamot by the various factions.

Sirius watched instead of taking part, quietly observing the Minor pureblood
Houses in Wenlock’s group starting to recognise that the move hadn’t taken the
Potter alliance by surprise; that some of the neutral Minor Houses weren’t
looking toward Wenlock but away from him.

Dullard dragged the session back to order. “What are the circumstances that
would constitute a reason for such a call to be made?”

Wenlock smiled as smugly as a cat that had caught a canary. “Firstly, the
events of the first task of the Tri-Wizard tournament clearly show that
dragons are dangerous creatures. Lord Potter was almost killed by a feral
dragon, and the rest of the Champions were gravely injured.” He lifted a hand
in the direction of the empty Potter seat.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at the gesture. It irritated him but then he knew it
was meant to irritate him so he let it slide.

“Secondly, the events of last night when three members of this Wizengamot were
attacked by werewolves clearly demonstrates that these creatures are just
that; creatures.” Wenlock sniffed. “We did not have such a spate of attacks
while the Werewolf laws were in place and they should be reinstituted
immediately.”

Dullard sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Does anyone object to Lord
Wenlock’s call for a dissolution?”

It was Daniel Greengrass who stood up for the alliance in opposition. Wenlock
had wrongly presumed it would be Sirius and so all his careful grooming was
for nothing. Daniel was the consummate neutral; safe, cautious and
conservative. His own immaculate green robes lacked the newness of Wenlock’s
and therefore seemed more genuinely Daniel’s own style rather than an
affectation.

“I object.” Daniel said forcefully. “If I may take each point in order: each
task within the Tri-Wizard Tournament is constructed to give the Champions an
almost impossible challenge. Dragons were used back in ’fifty-three in the
first task resulting in two of the Champions sustaining similar injuries to
the ones that we saw in this year’s tournament; minor burns, scratches and
bruises. We would never normally sanction young men and women climbing into a
dragon’s nest to steal eggs. In fact, there is an international law
prohibiting such action whether dragons are in the wild or on a reserve
because of the danger to the thief. The tournament constitutes an exceptional
circumstance in regards to the law.”

Daniel adjusted his stance, commanding all attention.

“In addition to this, the dragon that went feral went feral with assistance
from wizards.”

Murmurs swept the Wizengamot until Albus stood and called for silence so
Daniel could continue.

“What evidence do you have of this supposed assistance?” demanded Wenlock.

Amelia stood up, coolly gazing up at Wenlock with considered derision. “The
official DMLE investigation with the support of the Magical Forensics team
from the DOM found that the Horntail had been drugged to be overly aggressive.
In addition, the chain securing the Horntail had been charmed to vanish during
Lord Potter’s task. It is the view of the DMLE that there was an attempt to
sabotage the first task and Aurors are tracking down the suspected culprits.”

Daniel nodded sagely at her succinct reporting and turned to Wenlock. “A
dragon sabotaged by wizards cannot be said to have changed the natural threat
that dragons represent above and beyond the usual circumstances that exist and
did exist at the time the Committee was formed. Therefore, I believe there is
no substance to the first point of Lord Wenlock’s argument.”

Wenlock’s nostrils flared in anger.

“His second point misses several salient facts.” Daniel continued blithely.
“Firstly, it is certainly strange that after years of oppression, a number of
werewolves suddenly have decided to attack. After all, only the most
restrictive of laws regarding their employment were suspended; the main law
determining execution for a werewolf attacking a wizard or a witch remains in
effect. Why would they attack now when we are making strides to help our
fellow wizards and witches affected by lycanthropy?”

Daniel made a small wave towards Amelia again.

“According to the initial report from the DMLE published this morning, all
nine of the werewolves arrested last night confirmed that they attacked on the
orders of their pack leader Fenrir Greyback, a known rogue who has been wanted
by the DMLE for over twenty years.” Daniel gazed around the Wizengamot. “While
last night was a systematic attack which hasn’t been seen for a while,
Greyback and members of his pack have been suspected in a spate of sporadic
attacks over the last several years — hardly then, a changed circumstance.”

He held up a hand as Wenlock made to argue back.

“Furthermore, the report clearly states that all attacks were thwarted thanks
to information provided by disaffected members of Greyback’s own pack who
believe that their leader was wrongly endangering the political move to review
these laws. Werewolves, ladies and gentlemen, provided the information to take
down their own because of the steps we’ve taken to review the laws affecting
them, to try to provide a fairer view.” He pinned Wenlock with a hard stare.
“I will give you that *that* is a changed circumstance but I would argue it is
a positive one, supportive of the Committee and its aims which should proceed
without any further attempt to derail the democratic political process.”

Silence greeted Daniel’s final words.

Albus cleared his throat, the sound echoing loudly. “Do you have a
counter-argument, Lord Wenlock? Or do you withdraw your objection?”

Wenlock dragged his gaze from a triumphant Daniel to look at Albus. “I believe
my initial argument stands.” He blustered. “And I have the support of the Head
of the Department overseeing the control of magical creatures.” He indicated
Diggory who nodded briskly.

That was poor form, Sirius mused. Had Wenlock been so sure the alliance would
be taken aback by his use of obscure Wizengamot protocol that he hadn’t been
prepared for a cohesive opposition? It looked like it. And calling on Diggory,
who simply looked like a bureaucrat trying to maintain the importance of his
own position, was not a good move.

Albus smiled benignly at Wenlock. “Mister Dullard, am I correct in my belief
that in matters of this protocol where a call is made for dissolution and an
objection lodged that it is my right as Chief Warlock to determine the
outcome?”

The point was made so mildly that Wenlock almost missed it but when he got it,
he flushed a brilliant red.

“I was led to believe the matter is put to a vote, Chief Warlock.” Wenlock
spoke over Dullard as he began to answer.

Dullard glared up at Wenlock. “You were not recognised to speak, Lord Wenlock,
and I believe the Chief Warlock addressed his question of protocol to myself
as the clerk of this body.” He moved to speak with Albus. “And the Chief
Warlock is correct; he determines the outcome.”

Albus beamed brightly. “In which case, as I am very well acquainted with both
situations that Lord Wenlock outlined and which Lord Greengrass explained so
well, I rule in favour of the objection to the call for dissolution.”

“So noted!” Dullard called out. “The call for dissolution is defeated. The
Committee will report as per the agenda of the Wizengamot.”

And Sirius couldn’t quite prevent his smile as everyone politely ignored the
still standing Wenlock and focused on Dirk Cresswell as he began to speak.

A well-played prank, thought Sirius with glee; a well-played prank indeed.

o-O-o

The fury of the Dark Lord was something to behold.

Peter had seen it before when he’d been a spy. Mostly he’d watched in his rat
form as the Dark Lord had tortured some poor bastard that Peter had revealed
as a traitor or who had failed in their own mission. Peter knew that he’d been
asked to witness both as an honour and to hammer home the message of what
awaited him if he didn’t comply with the Dark Lord’s agenda, didn’t complete
his missions.

It was a lesson Bartemius Crouch Junior was learning for himself since he had
turned up unexpectedly that morning just in time to witness Fenrir admit the
failure of the werewolf raids the night before. The wizard watched enthralled
and repulsed as the Dark Lord tortured Fenrir Greyback with verve and
ferocity. Crouch had actually winced on a couple of occasions as the Dark Lord
had applied a Crucio with enough force to completely levitate Greyback from
the floor.

For the most part though, Crouch looked on like a son learning at his father’s
hand, eager and keen; something Crouch was deluded enough to believe was the
deal with him and the Dark Lord. Peter wasn’t about to disillusion him. Crouch
would learn soon enough that the only person the Dark Lord cared for was
himself… although admittedly he might have a fondness for the snake, his
familiar. Crouch was just another tool; one who the Dark Lord used most
effectively by pretending a paternal caring.

Peter didn’t allow his own winces to show. He kept a small smile of faked
enjoyment on his face.

“Explain to me again, Fenrir, what happened?” The Dark Lord sneered.

The large hairy man lying curled up on the floor, panted. “They were prepared,
Master…”

“And why were they prepared, Fenrir?” The Dark Lord shot another Crucio toward
Fenrir who yelped as it hit.

Fenrir caught his breath again. “Traitors. There are traitors in my pack.”

The Dark Lord made a tsking sound of disgust. “You’ve lost control of your
pack, Fenrir. How disappointing.”

Fenrir whimpered, hugging one side where Peter was sure the ribs had actually
cracked.

“I expected better of you, Fenrir.” The Dark Lord continued. “You were such an
Alpha when you were young but now… well, you’re just an old wolf. I should
have expected it.”

There was a growl from Fenrir and he managed to stagger into kneeling before
another spell sent him to the floor again, howling in agony.

“How can I possibly agree to giving your pack absolute freedom when I have
taken the government, Fenrir, when you cannot guarantee their loyalty?” The
Dark Lord said, holding the spell until Fenrir’s howls turned to gasped
breaths.

The wolf man lay curled up on the floor. It was clear that he wasn’t getting
up any time soon.

“Tell me you know who the traitors are, Fenrir?” The Dark Lord’s voice fell to
a low purr. “Tell me you have not fallen so far in your leadership that you do
not know.”

“Eleven are missing,” Fenrir choked out, his voice a raspy mess from the
screaming, “but only one since I called for warriors. She’s a friend of
Lupin.”

“Lupin?” asked the Dark Lord as though he didn’t know although Peter suspected
he did.

Fenrir’s lip curled. “Dumbledore’s wolf.” His gaze darted briefly to Peter and
Peter knew what was coming and jumped before Fenrir could push.

“Remus Lupin, Master,” Peter said, “you may recall that he was part of the
group of friends I had within Dumbledore’s Order.”

“Ah, *that* wolf.” The Dark Lord chuckled quietly before he snapped his wand
angrily, light spilling out to hit Fenrir again who arched upwards in pain,
another bone snapping somewhere in his body. “Well, well, well. So, one of
your pack runs to Lupin and all my plans for torturing Potter are undone!
Unacceptable!”

The Dark Lord stopped, breathless, and he waved off his snake who was peering
at him with what Peter presumed was a snake’s expression of concern.

“Perhaps, Fenrir, we should let Lupin take your pack.” The Dark Lord taunted.
‘You sired him, did you not? Sons challenge their fathers.’ He held out a hand
to Crouch and Peter wasn’t surprised when Crouch immediately sped to the Dark
Lord’s side. “Bartemius and I know this only too well.”

“Lupin will never serve you as I.” Fenrir said haltingly. “He is devoted to
the Potter boy and Black; they are his pack. The rat will confirm it!”

Peter reluctantly nodded in agreement as the Dark Lord’s red eyes fell upon
him again. “Remus would refuse a place by your side, Master, I am certain of
it.”

The Dark Lord’s young face turned thoughtful. He settled back on the mountain
of cushions that Peter had constructed for him on the settee and glared at
Fenrir.

“I will give you one chance, Fenrir,” the Dark Lord said, “one chance to take
back your pack and instil in them the need to obey me above all others. You
will kill Lupin and your traitors or I will find another wolf to do it and
take your place.”

Fenrir’s lip curled up in a half-snarl but he nodded, his hair falling over
his face to hide the tiny flame of defiance in his eyes.

“Come, come now, Fenrir.” The Dark Lord chided. ‘Your reward if you should
prevail will be worth it. The freedom to roam unmolested… to bite those who
would stand against us without penalty… all this will be yours and your pack’s
when I rule.’ His expression hardened and he motioned at the wolf. “Leave.
And, Fenrir, do not come back until you have Lupin’s head to show me.”

Fenrir crawled to the floo and only just managed to croak out a destination.
He disappeared in the green flames and Peter immediately locked the floo down.

“We should move location.” Crouch said. “Fenrir is a liability and he knows
where we are.”

The Dark Lord smiled at Crouch. “An excellent suggestion. I grow weary of this
place.” He looked around the small living area of the flat in distaste. ‘But
it will wait for tomorrow.’ He peered into Crouch’s eyes. “You are here
because you have news for me, do you not?”

Crouch nodded somewhat less eagerly than Peter had assumed he would. “Snape
has made contact with Karkaroff.”

“He made contact a week ago,” the Dark Lord corrected silkily, “why the delay
in informing me?”

“He threatened Karkaroff with punishment if he did not relay the message and I
was interested in what he would do.” Crouch admitted with a faked chagrin.

The Dark Lord stared at Crouch until Crouch averted his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Father, I should have informed you immediately.” Crouch
apologised, kneeling in front of the Dark Lord, a very picture of contrition.

“Do you challenge *me*, Bartemius?” The Dark Lord asked mildly, a small hand
stroking through Crouch’s hair in a way that turned Peter’s stomach.

“Never.” Crouch promised fervently.

“What did Severus do to Igor?” asked the Dark Lord, apparently appeased.

“A mild poison.” Crouch said in a small voice. “Karkaroff was violently ill
most of yesterday.”

The Dark Lord gave a twisted smile. “See how wonderfully inventive my Potions
Master can be? You should take note, Bartemius.”

Peter wondered whether Crouch heard the warning in the careful phrasing; he
certainly did. He shivered.

“Meet with Severus, Bartemius. Find out what message he brings me.” The Dark
Lord said firmly. “And do not delay again.”

Crouch nodded. “Yes, Master.”

Peter watched as Crouch bowed low to the Dark Lord before turning and opening
the cabinet that would lead him directly to another hidden in Karkaroff’s
quarters on the Durmstrang ship. Peter didn’t like the cabinet. He feared
entering it and never coming out again. The Dark Lord had talked about how
he’d first come across the cabinets when he’d spotted a damaged version
forgotten in a room in Hogwarts. What happened if the cabinet was damaged
while you were in it, mused Peter as Crouch entered it and closed the door,
disappearing from view.

The Dark Lord sighed. “When I am fully myself once more, Peter, there will be
a reckoning.” He looked down at his tiny body with disgust. “But I cannot
blame Fenrir and Bartemius for believing me weak while I reside in *this*.”

Peter scrambled for a reply. If he confirmed the Dark Lord looked weak, he’d
no doubt be punished. But if he didn’t agree with him… “They forget that the
strength of your spirit is undiminished, Master.”

The Dark Lord smiled. “I chose well when I made you my servant, Peter. You of
all my Death Eaters appreciate the honour the most.”

Peter bowed his head, inwardly pleased to gain some recognition after weeks of
Crouch being heralded as the favourite.

“You will convey a message to Lupin.” The Dark Lord said, surprising Peter who
almost made the mistake of looking at him.

“Me?” He squeaked instead.

“Who better to contact him than an old friend, Peter?” The Dark Lord said.
“Tell him that Fenrir hunts him on my order but that if he survives I would
welcome him and his pack into my service, and in exchange I will ensure no
werewolf will ever be executed.”

Peter frowned heavily. “Master, he will not…”

“No,” agreed the Dark Lord dryly, “but I will give him the chance, one leader
to another, and should the pack learn that he turned down my deal. Well…” he
smiled again, that twist of lips that spoke of cruelty, “how long before Lupin
would be cut down by his own kind?”

“You are very clever, Master.” Peter babbled out quickly.

The Dark Lord inclined his head. “I am fatigued, Peter. A potion and then bed,
I fear.”

Peter nodded briskly and hurried to comply, already wondering *how* he was
supposed to get a message to Remus, and knowing if he did not, it would be him
writhing on the floor in agony.

o-O-o

*9**th* *December 1994*

“…and one, two, three… no, don’t look at your feet,” Andromeda instructed
briskly, “and one, two, three and…”

Harry gritted his teeth and carried on attempting to lead Andromeda around the
duelling area of the training room which had been turned temporarily into a
dance floor. He wasn’t doing too badly, he thought desperately; at least, he
hadn’t stepped on any toes during the current lesson which was much better
than he’d done at all his others.

A polite cough interrupted them.

Harry stumbled to a stop as Andromeda halted mid-step. They both turned to
look at the new arrival.

Narcissa stood just inside the doorway with a wide smile on her face. “Forgive
me, Sirius informed me that you were both in here practicing a dance for the
Ball before our dinner, and well, I could not resist taking a peek.”

“He’s doing very well for someone who has had no lessons until this Summer.”
Andromeda said defensively.

“I’m pants.” Harry admitted bluntly. He pushed a hand through his hair,
frustrated. ‘I’m going to totally embarrass Hermione at the Ball.’ He sighed.
“The Champions are supposed to open it with a dance and I can’t do it!”

Narcissa’s face softened a little. “Andromeda is correct, Harry. You are doing
well for someone who has not had previous training or experience. However, we
cannot have you representing the House of Black with such a lacklustre
display.” She gestured at her sister. “May I?”

Andromeda sent her a look that said ‘be careful’ but stepped aside.

Narcissa moved into the space she had vacated. “Now, I believe that your
problem is just a matter of perspective, Harry.”

Harry frowned at her.

“You hear the word ‘dancing’ and it terrifies you.” Narcissa explained. “You
stiffen up, you become self-conscious about your body and you fail to listen
to the music.”

“Uh-huh.” It was a reasonable enough theory.

“So, we are not dancing but flying.” Narcissa lifted his hands into the
correct places, pausing to correct his posture. “You hold your partner as you
would your broomstick; with tender care and trust that they will follow your
lead and perform the tricks you need them to make.”

He gazed at her warily but got the analogy. In the air, his broomstick was his
dancing partner.

“A waltz is very similar to the first Obroski drill for a Seeker. Do you know
it?” Narcissa asked.

Harry nodded; the Obroski drill she had mentioned was a basic searching drill,
one of the first Wood had taught him because it was simple and easy to master.
He felt some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

“Excellent.” Narcissa said. “Close your eyes and focus on the pattern and
transferring your movement to a ground practice. When you have it clear in
your head; move and trust that I will follow.”

Harry did as she instructed. The pattern was familiar enough and he had
practiced it on the ground during his first year when he was reliant on having
supervision when he flew.

He signalled his intent with a brief press of his hand against her waist (a
shift of his hand on the broomstick) and moved. He stepped easily through the
pattern, his hands alerting Narcissa (the broomstick) and moving with him.
After a while, music began to play. Harry ignored it, just as he ignored the
crowds on a game day and carried on with the drill until the music stopped and
Harry opened his eyes.

A smug Narcissa beamed back at him. “Very good, Harry.”

“Very good?” Andromeda remarked as she applauded them both. “It was bloody
brilliant!”

Narcissa lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “I suggest you continue
practicing the drill, Harry.” She considered him carefully. “You should also
practice with Hermione ahead of the Ball. Both of you will be more confident
if you have practiced together.”

“That’s a good idea, Cissy.” Andromeda said.

The door to the training room opened and Sirius poked his head in.

“We’re about to sit down for dinner.” Sirius informed them cheerily. “All OK
in here?”

“A breakthrough.” Andromeda said brightly. “Cissy is a marvellous teacher.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, Narcissa.”

“Not at all, Cousin. It was my pleasure.” Narcissa said. “You may escort me to
the table.”

Sirius sent him an amused look but Harry offered his arm and they walked
through the rooms to the dining table which was resplendent in crisp white
linen, gleaming china crockery, shining silver cutlery and sparkling crystal.

Hermione raised her eyes as she took in Narcissa on Harry’s arm and he knew
he’d have to explain it to her later but that was good as it would give him
the chance to ask her to join his practicing. Narcissa was right about that;
he probably would feel more confident if he and Hermione had already danced
before the Ball.

Lucius was sending his wife an equally questioning look but Narcissa simply
gazed back serenely as Harry seated her in her usual place.

Draco caught Harry as he made to move to his seat. “Obroski?”

Harry nodded quickly. Evidently Narcissa had used the method on Draco in the
past. Somehow that was more comforting to him. Draco was very polished in
comparison to Harry and if Draco had needed Narcissa’s flying analogy in order
to learn to dance then Harry felt better about needing it himself.

He sat down hurriedly as Sirius assumed his place at the head of the table.

Sirius tapped it once and each place was suddenly filled with a bowl filled
with a steaming portion of creamy watercress soup, along with side plates of
warm brown bread rolls and golden butter. Harry dug in hungrily.

Ted cleared his throat. “Dora said that Remus has gone back to France?”

Sirius nodded, scooping up some soup. “After Fenrir’s recruitment meeting,
there was an influx of werewolves trying to escape any future missions. So,
we’re moving the werewolf sanctuary to the Baltics. The chateau will act as a
way-station instead. Remus is sorting out the details and the move over the
next week or so.”

“A sensible move after the events of Wednesday.” Lucius commented, fingering
his napkin. “The word is that Fenrir has sought help from a sympathetic healer
yesterday to deal with injuries. I doubt that the Dark Lord was pleased with
his performance and made his displeasure known to him.”

“Do we have to speak of such things at the dinner table?” asked Narcissa
sharply.

“I agree,” Andromeda said firmly, “the dinner table is no place for such
talk.”

Minerva nodded her own agreement. “After dinner will be soon enough.”

Harry watched as the adult men exchanged identical looks of exasperated
frustration at being curtailed by the women. He ducked his head and focused on
his soup.

“How are the Weasleys?” asked Minerva, changing the topic. “I understand from
the news reports that Arthur was injured again?”

“Bump on the head but he was fine at the Wizengamot yesterday.” Sirius said
succinctly. “Percy will have some scars but, thanks to his mother, nothing
worse.”

Harry felt a frisson of guilt ripple through him. He knew that the werewolf
attacks on his supporters were Voldemort’s way of coming after him; of telling
him that no-one Harry cared about was safe. Yes, everyone had survived and the
Weasleys had been the only ones hurt but… but it felt like that was already
one too many people being hurt because of Harry; because Harry had told
Voldemort he wouldn’t be cowed or terrorised by choosing to compete fully in
the tournament.

Sirius nudged his hand. “Something wrong with the soup?” He said quietly.

And Harry realised he’d simply been stirring it for a few moments rather than
eating.

Harry flashed him a brief smile of reassurance and dived back into his meal.
But his hunger had disappeared and it was a struggle through the rest of the
dinner to do justice to the meal Dobby had prepared. From the looks Sirius
occasionally sent in his direction, Harry was certain he hadn’t fooled Padfoot
into believing that everything was fine.

They all adjourned to the living area for the coffee portion of the meal,
Harry eschewing it for hot chocolate, Hermione following Minerva and Andromeda
with her insistence on tea. Draco accepted the coffee and pulled a face. Harry
managed to wrangle sitting next to Hermione which was the only plus point in
his opinion.

“If the ladies are agreed, may we speak of Fenrir now?” Lucius asked, a hint
of impatience creeping into his tone.

He got a trio of glares for his trouble and Harry spotted Ted hiding his mirth
in his cup of coffee.

“So the Dark Lord punished Fenrir for his failure?” Sirius asked, determining
the answer to Lucius’s question with quiet authority.

Lucius gripped his cane and gave a sharp nod. “So it would appear. He was
suffering from prolonged exposure to a pain curse; cracked ribs and a broken
wrist.”

“My heart bleeds.” Sirius commented dryly.

Lucius inclined his head. “He approached Wilkes for assistance this morning.”
He held up a hand. “Denied, obviously. Apparently, he’s been tasked with
bringing the traitors in his pack to heel and killing *your* pet werewolf as a
bad influence or the Dark Lord will find another werewolf to work with.”

Fenrir had been tasked with killing Remus?!

Harry’s magic bubbled up and rattled the ornaments. He yanked it back
desperately, breathing deeply to recover his control. Hermione slid her hand
into his, settling him further.

Sirius’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You know this for certain?”

“Wilkes told Fenrir that under the détente he couldn’t help him and good luck
finding someone with the wherewithal to help him who didn’t have a détente
with you, or who wouldn’t refuse to help because of a deep desire not to draw
the Dark Lord’s displeasure by helping Fenrir with a mission given to him to
make up for a failure.” Lucius said.

Sirius glanced down at Harry with a silent question.

“I’m fine.” Harry said.

“That’s why the ornaments suddenly decided to get up and do a jig.” Draco
drawled from his seat on the other sofa.

Harry shot him an annoyed look. “It got away from me for a moment.”

“I’m going to call Remus and let him know.” Sirius said. “Is there anything
else you should have told me, Lucius, I don’t know, *before* we’d gotten to
dinner?”

“No,” Lucius said mildly, his eyes glittering darkly, “I think that’s
everything.”

“Then I think we should walk Draco back to Slytherin and take our leave.”
Narcissa’s sharp tone could have cut through concrete and evidently Lucius was
aware that he’d annoyed her because he stiffened. “Draco can tell us how his
date with Katherine Gillingwood went.”

Draco sighed heavily but got to his feet. “Well, that should take all of two
minutes.” He complained as the Malfoys left.

Sirius made his excuses to the others and headed for his study to mirror call
Remus.

Hermione looked at Harry questioningly. “You met Katherine didn’t you? What
did you think?”

“She’s pretty and nice.” Harry said. “But… I bet she bored Draco to tears
within ten minutes of their actual date.”

Andromeda coughed to try to hide her amusement. “Poor girl. You must have a
different view surely, Minerva?”

“I cannot comment as I’m her teacher and there are students present.” Minerva
said briskly. “However, I will say that I feel Mister Malfoy possibly needs
someone who’ll challenge him a bit more.”

In other words, Harry thought with satisfaction, Katherine was pretty and nice
and boring just like he’d said. His satisfaction faded as he considered
Lucius’s news about Fenrir.

Remus was in danger.

Of course, they’d always known that opening up the sanctuary would mean that
Remus would be in danger from Fenrir. It was a challenge to Fenrir’s
leadership of the pack, Harry could see that. Remus might claim that he wasn’t
fighting Fenrir for the leadership of his pack by offering those who no longer
wanted to be part of Fenrir’s pack a place to go but really it was semantics.

“…I think that’s a good idea, don’t you, Harry?”

Hermione’s hand squeezed his, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Harry said with a mild blush, “I was miles away.”

Andromeda smiled at him sympathetically. “I suggested to Hermione that she
should join us for dance practice next Friday.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, sneaking a look at Hermione, “that’s a good idea if
you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Hermione shook her head, the heavy fall of her hair bouncing lightly on her
shoulders. “I think I’d like to practice before we have to open the Ball.”

Minerva grimaced. “Do not look at me accusingly, Harry. I was simply the
messenger.”

“And given your final performance tonight,” Andromeda chipped in, ‘I shouldn’t
worry; you did fine.’ She sighed. “Narcissa would have made a good teacher, I
think. She has a knack for it.”

Minerva hummed. “Perhaps you and she would consent to teach a wider group? I’m
certain there are other students who would appreciate a class on dancing ahead
of the Ball.”

Andromeda smiled briefly. “I’ll ask her. I’ll do it either way.” She winced
visibly and deliberately. “My poor feet!”

“Just as well you’re married to a healer then.” Ted laughed jovially. He put
down his coffee as Sirius re-entered the room. “All sorted?”

“Remus had already heard on the werewolf network about Fenrir’s latest
assignment.” Sirius sat down on the arm of the sofa next to Harry. “He’s going
to take some extra precautions.”

Harry blew out a breath. Remus was sensible enough not only to know he needed
extra precautions but to actually put them in place too.

“I’ve put The School House on lockdown to protect Sian. Tonks is going to go
over and keep her company until Remus gets back.” Sirius added.

“Well, that should be interesting.” Andromeda said wryly.

Sirius frowned at her quizzically.

Andromeda grinned at Sirius. “According to Dora, both she and Sian are
interested in Remus romantically.”

“Ah,” said Sirius, fighting to keep the smile off his face and failing,
“awkward.”

Ted covered his face with his hands. “I don’t need to hear this. I’m her
father!”

“You’ll be relieved then, dear,” Andromeda said mildly, “that Remus is looking
at neither of them.”

“Oh well, that’s a shame.” Ted said dropping his hands to reveal a look of
genuine regret.

Andromeda raised both eyebrows. “First you don’t want to hear about
Nymphadora’s interest in Remus, but now you’re… disappointed Remus isn’t
interested back?”

“Yes?” Ted admitted hesitantly. “He’s a good man.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes but she patted her husband on his arm. “Yes, he is,
and yes, I’m disappointed too, and on that note, I think it’s time to go home
and return you to the Gryffindor dorm, Hermione.”

Minerva placed her empty cup down and stood with the others. “I’ll walk out
with you.”

Sirius winked at Harry as he steered the others way, leaving him and Hermione
alone briefly. He figured everybody knew Sirius was allowing them a private
goodbye since they pointedly didn’t look in their direction while gathering
coats and chattering about the next week’s dinner arrangements.

Hermione blushed lightly but leaned in for a lightning fast kiss. “I’ll see
you tomorrow.”

Harry nodded, heat flaring up in his own cheeks as Sirius glanced in their
direction. He walked Hermione over and joined in the goodbyes.

The portrait closed and Sirius flung a friendly arm around Harry’s shoulders
when he would have made for the stairs. “Not so fast, Pronglet. You want to
talk about what’s bothering you?” He asked bluntly, steering Harry back
towards the living area.

“Is that code for ‘you will talk about what’s bothering you?’” Harry asked,
tension turning his words a tone more sulky than he had intended.

Sirius ignored the tone and ushered Harry back into his seat. “If you like.”
He sat down opposite Harry on the coffee table. “You were fine until Minnie
asked about the Weasleys and then you started playing with your soup, so I’m
guessing you’re upset that they got hurt in the werewolf attacks.”

It was a good guess.

“It feels like it was my fault.” Harry muttered, knowing Sirius already knew
but wanted Harry to admit it.

“And you know it wasn’t.” Sirius said firmly. “The only people responsible for
hurting the Weasleys are Voldemort, Greyback and the werewolves who hurt
them.”

“Voldemort ordered the attacks to get to me.” Harry argued hotly.

“Yes, he did.” Sirius agreed. ‘He ordered these attacks because he’s pissed at
you and he knows hurting the people you care about hurts you.’ He held Harry’s
unhappy gaze. “And the people you care about know that too. Nobody blames you,
Harry.”

He wasn’t sure that was true since Ron had been kind of quiet with him since
they’d gotten the news about Arthur and Percy the day before, and maybe, Harry
recognised with chagrin, maybe that was at the heart of his worry.

“And it’s not your fault that Fenrir is going after Remus.” Sirius continued
briskly. “Fenrir’s always been after Remus in one way or another. Really,
Voldemort giving him an assignment to kill him just gives him an excuse to
actively go after him.”

Harry accepted that point since Remus’s history with Fenrir started long
before Harry had even been a twinkle in his father’s eye.

“Not your fault.” Sirius said again. He rapped Harry’s knee lightly with his
fist. “Any of this getting through?”

Harry sighed heavily. “Look, I know it’s not my fault here,” he pointed at his
head, “it’s just…”

“It doesn’t feel like it here.” Sirius tapped Harry’s chest.

“Yeah.” Harry admitted morosely. “And I get that my being upset is what
Voldemort wanted but I can’t help it.”

Sirius pressed his lips together, looking at Harry sympathetically. “You
wouldn’t be you if you didn’t get upset at people being hurt, Harry. And I
can’t promise you that nobody is going to get seriously hurt in the future
because Voldemort is lashing out at the people you love to get to you, and
frankly, the people who love you will try and protect you. But everyone is
taking what measures they can to stay safe; we plan for the worst and hope for
the best. The Aurors did a brilliant job on Wednesday for the most part and
Molly was able to deal with the werewolf threatening Arthur and Percy. Arthur
said she looked like a Fury in a nightdress.”

Harry chuffed out a thin laugh at the image.

“It’s OK to be upset.” Sirius comforted him. ‘I got upset myself after the
first task about you being in danger and had to remind myself it’s exactly
what Crouch wanted. Moony reminded me that it was alright to be upset; we just
don’t do it where Voldemort or Crouch will see us.’ He waved a hand around the
room. “That’s exactly why we’ve got these rooms; to give you — and me — a
space to breathe in.”

His heart tightened into an achy mess at the thought of Sirius being upset but
he nodded in understanding.

Sirius examined his expression, switched to sit beside him, and pulled him in
for a hug. Harry hugged Padfoot back for a long while, the confession of how
he’d been upset after the first task fresh in Harry’s mind.

“So,” Sirius cleared his throat, “what’s Obroski got to do with dancing?”

Harry shuffled back and began to explain. The explanation led to a
demonstration and by the time Harry crawled into bed, he’d almost been able to
forget that he’d been upset and why.

Almost.

Was Ron angry with him about the Weasleys getting hurt? Harry sighed in the
darkness of his room, wishing for once that he was in the Gryffindor dorm with
Ron just across from him so he could ask him. But he couldn’t just walk over
to the dorm, wake Ron up and ask.

Could he?

Harry sat up abruptly, considering the idea. It wasn’t like it would be the
first time that Harry had gone sneaking about Hogwarts in the middle of the
night. OK, so it would be the first time that Harry had gone sneaking about
while he was living with Sirius at Hogwarts since he knew part of the reason
for their own rooms was to keep Harry safe, but…

But he didn’t think there was too much danger with Moody’s security people
patrolling and the upgraded wards. And wouldn’t it be worth it to check that
everything between him and Ron was fine?

He pushed his covers away, pulled on his dressing gown over his pyjamas and
hurried over to get the invisibility cloak — there was no point taking
unnecessary risks. He wrapped it around himself, opened the bedroom door, and
cast a glance towards Sirius’s.

It was closed and there was no light peeking out of the crack at the bottom.
Sirius was probably asleep.

Harry was careful though. He placed a silencing charm on his feet and tiptoed
down the stairs and out of their rooms with his heart beating loudly in his
chest.

Quick visit, Harry determined hastily; it would be a quick visit; there and
back before Sirius even noticed he was gone. He practically ran to the
portrait of the Fat Lady and had to catch his breath before giving her the
password.

Sneaking up to the fourth year boys’ dorm was a cinch after that. He opened
the door, arrowed in on Ron and hurried over with Neville’s snoring providing
background cover. He shook Ron awake briskly.

Ron opened his eyes groggily and glared up at Harry for a moment before his
brain engaged and the realisation that Harry was in the dorm when he wasn’t
supposed to be hit. Ron opened his mouth and Harry frantically shushed him. He
motioned for him to follow him down to the Common Room. Ron nodded quickly and
shoved his arms into his dressing gown as they left the dorm.

The Common Room was preternaturally silent; the slumbering fire casting
everything in amber. Harry led Ron over to a couple of easy chairs in a corner
and set up a privacy bubble and a notice-me-not charm.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ron immediately. “Do you need us to go spy on someone
or…”

Harry shook his head swiftly. “I just…” he sighed and pushed his glasses up
his nose, “you’ve been quiet since yesterday and the news about your Dad and
Percy and I… well…” he shrugged unable to actually ask Ron if he blamed him
because he was so afraid the answer was yes.

Ron looked abashed. “You noticed, huh?”

“I noticed.” Harry said, his heart beginning to sink. Merlin, Ron did blame
him!

Ron subsided into the chair, deflating like a balloon. “I just can’t help the
way I feel, mate.” He began.

And Harry couldn’t say anything to that.

“I’ve just felt so guilty about Percy,” continued Ron, staring at the fire.

And Harry couldn’t… wait; what?!

“You’ve felt guilty about Percy?” Harry checked that he’d heard correctly.

“Yeah, I mean, I thought he was a total git to everyone before he lost his job
and he’s been an even worse git since,” Ron explained, poking the carpet with
his toe, “but he didn’t deserve to be set on by a werewolf and my Mum said in
her letter that he was really brave and defended Dad so…”

“So you’ve been feeling guilty about thinking he was a total git.” Harry
summarised, feeling gleeful that it wasn’t about him at all. Guilt that he’d
been so self-centred wormed its way through the glee in short order.

“That’s about the size of it.” Ron sighed heavily. “I mean, what do I say?
Sorry I thought you were a git but you don’t deserve being scarred for life
and I’m glad you’re not dead or a werewolf?”

“I guess?” Harry agreed hesitantly. “Maybe just focus on the ‘I’m glad you’re
alright’ bit. And I think it’s OK that you thought he was a git before.”
Because Percy had definitely fallen into the git category in Harry’s opinion.

Ron snorted. “Yeah.” He darted a glance toward the girls’ staircase. “I guess
I should probably make up with Ginny too. She tried to talk to me earlier
about Percy and I shoved her off.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him. “She’s very sorry about what happened with
Hermione and she is seeing the mind healer now.”

Although, admittedly his own forgiveness of Ginny’s very peripheral
involvement in the attack on Hermione had been mostly because Hermione had
asked him to forgive Ginny, and because Hermione had already forgiven her.

Ron nodded slowly. “Right then.” He glanced over at Harry and smiled. “Hey,
thanks for coming and talking to me. I’ve maybe kind of missed this. You know,
you and me talking about stuff just the two of us.”

There was another twinge of guilt because Harry was rarely alone with Ron any
more. He and Hermione made an effort to include Ron when they weren’t on an
official date but Ron was probably feeling excluded anyway. It probably didn’t
help that Harry spent most of the Gryffindor Quidditch practices with Ginny as
she had taken over as Seeker, and his personal practice time had turned into
something of a get together for the Champions. He sighed.

“I was just thinking if I was in the dorm I could ask you so…” he confessed,
“I like having the rooms away from everyone but I miss living here too.”

Ron punched him lightly on his upper arm. “Well, you can come over any time.”
He gave another sheepish smile. “And thanks. I’ll collar our Ginny in the
morning and send Percy a note.”

“You can use Hedwig.” Harry offered, still feeling a touch guilty that Ron’s
issue hadn’t been with him and he might not have questioned his friend if he’d
thought it wasn’t. “And maybe we could go for a Quidditch practice just the
two of us this weekend?”

Ron’s face brightened immediately. “That would be great.” He frowned as he got
to his feet and Harry removed the spells he’d cast. “You should get back to
your rooms, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry grinned at him and covered himself with the invisibility cloak.

“Show off.” Ron complained good-naturedly and waved in Harry’s direction as he
stifled a yawn on his way back to bed.

Harry felt a lot better as he opened the portrait hole out into the corridor.
He stumbled though when he caught sight of the Grim sat just in front of it
waiting for him, the Marauders’ Map in its mouth.

Bugger.

Padfoot rose from his sentry position, took a step toward Harry and nudged his
leg through the invisibility cloak.

Harry got the message; start walking.

He was in so much trouble, Harry mused despondently.

And began to walk.

Holding Onto Pronglet: Chapter 3
================================

Severus sniffed derisively as he entered The Three Broomsticks.

The hour was late but the tavern was still filled with a respectable number of
drinkers. A young couple were squirrelled away in one corner on a date; two
old wizards played dominoes by the fire; and a gaggle of women of a certain
age, huddled around two tables on what was clearly some kind of birthday
celebration. The ambience was one of cheerful and welcoming cosiness. Severus
despised it on principle.

Severus sniffed again, unwound the scarf from his neck, and made for the bar.

Rosmerta smiled warmly at him. “Professor Snape. We don’t often see you in
here.”

And Severus had no intention of making it a regular habit. “A private room has
been arranged in the name of Prince.”

It was his mother’s maiden name and Snape wondered whether Crouch had looked
it up or been told it by the Dark Lord. Either way it was a good cover. Crouch
could pretend to be a distant cousin looking up his remaining family. There
were some relatives still alive on his mother’s side, Severus mused; his
great-great-great uncle’s progeny. They had left years before, moving to the
States and Severus wasn’t interested in tracking them down.

“Oh, of course!” Rosmerta’s smile turned conspiratorial. “Room one, dear. The
lady is already up there along with your refreshments.” And she winked at him.

Severus glowered at her and left. What cover story had Crouch constructed, he
wondered as he made his way stiffly up the stairs. He knocked on the door
three times and waited.

“Enter!” A female voice called breathlessly.

Severus let his wand drop into his hand and opened the door. The smell of
faint perfume hit his nostrils first; lilies. He controlled the immediate
burst of anger, reminding himself that Crouch had no doubt chosen it on
purpose hoping to evoke such a reaction. He stepped through the doorway and
closed the door behind him.

A female figure lounged on the rose-petal strewn bed in a flimsy nightie,
smiling coquettishly at him, green eyes peeking out from semi-closed lids. She
was slim, pale and had a cascade of red hair. But even in a bad light and
half-blind Severus would never have mistaken her for Lily Potter.

Or rather mistaken *him*.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior, I presume?” Severus sneered.

The female’s smile turned predatory. “Severus Snape.” He pouted. “You don’t
seem to like the surprise I prepared for you.”

Severus glared down his nose at him. “I prefer to keep business strictly
business.”

“Pity.” She — *he* slid off the bed and wrapped himself in a pale pink silk
dressing robe. He grabbed a packet of cigarettes and lit up, blowing out a
stream of smoke. “I haven’t had a good shag in ages.”

Severus arched one eyebrow and moved to sit on the comfortable wing-backed
chair by the dresser. He didn’t unbutton his outer cloak or take off his soft
leather gloves.

“I assume you intend for our cover story to be a clandestine love affair?”
Severus questioned tersely. It was a reasonable cover, he conceded to himself.

“And you have a known type, darling.” Crouch grinned at him as he threw
himself back on the bed. ‘If anyone asks a mutual acquaintance introduced us
and we have been owling in secret since the beginning of the Summer.’ He
gestured at a stack of parchment on the dresser. “Your evidence.”

Severus swept his wand over the paper and found it benign. He sniffed to
ascertain if there was something the paper had been steeped in but couldn’t
scent anything other than the infernal perfume Crouch had sprayed the room
with. He picked the first parchment up with gloved hands and read the text
with little fanfare.

Crouch had done a good job if the letter was any indication. Madame Albright
was a widow with a gift for potions and the letter had one half of what
appeared to be a lively exchange about a past article published in Potions
Monthly around August.

Severus picked up the rest of the parchments and tucked them away into the
inner pocket of his outer robe. He settled his gaze back on Crouch. “Does the
Dark Lord wish for verbal or written reports?”

Crouch blinked. “You know Father never said.”

Father.

Well, that was an interesting turn of events, Severus mused, and one Crouch
wanted him to know.

“Verbal then.” Severus said as though disinterested in Crouch’s new status. He
smoothed down his cloak. “You are aware that the Summers woman and your elf
are now in the protective custody of Albus Dumbledore?”

Crouch perked up. “At Hogwarts?”

Severus inclined his head although only the elf was actually within the
school. The Summers woman was with her brother in some DMLE safe house known
only to Scrimgeour and Bones. “I have been ordered to find an antidote.”

Crouch shrugged. “Why should Father be interested in that? The draught we used
has no antidote.”

And so the game began, Severus thought with amusement. “It is true that the
Sleeping Beauty draught has no antidote except for the true love kiss of one
with a pure heart. Something that is unlikely to happen to either female in
this case.”

He watched in satisfaction as Crouch’s face stilled with shock.

“Well, well, well,” Crouch said, “so you may be as useful as Father said you
were, after all, Potions Master Snape.”

Severus raised his eyebrow again. “The Dark Lord is aware of my skills and I
can confirm that I will probably be able to determine an antidote within a few
months.” He lifted one shoulder. “I will be able to delay perhaps until May
but no longer.”

“You will delay until after the Summer solstice.” Crouch snarled, lurching to
his feet to pace. He looked a sight; an angry pinched looking redhead stomping
about the room in a flimsy pink negligee.

And there was one more confirmation of the Dark Lord’s ritual timetable,
Severus noted.

“Albus Dumbledore was mentored by Nicholas Flamel.” Severus said with an
affected patience as though talking to a small child or a Gryffindor. “He is
able to follow my process and determine cause and effect, review my results
and know if I am prevaricating. May is the best I can do.”

In truth, May was likely the time that he estimated he would have a working
antidote. Any sooner just wasn’t possible given some of the ingredients he
believed he required. It was something that the Dark Lord with his own
knowledge of potions might know and understand.

Severus watched as Crouch continued to pace, trailing smoke and ash. “The Dark
Lord will need to move at that time as the elf and the Summers woman will be
questioned about his whereabouts.”

“They don’t know.” Crouch responded immediately.

“And your elf would not be able to find you once she’s awake? Would not rush
to your side?” Severus drawled. “Black has many tricks and more than enough
house-elves to send after her to get a location.”

Crouch stopped abruptly. He whirled around and pinned Severus with a hard
stare. “So kill the elf!”

Severus simply looked back at him. “And expose you to the Black elves instead?
You are connected to the House of Black through a marriage. If you lose the
protection of your own elf bond, you become visible to them. Isn’t that the
reason why you’ve kept her alive?”

Crouch swept his hands through his hair. “Bloody Black!”

“Well, on that much we can agree,” Severus said dryly, “he is superb at being
the proverbial thorn in one’s side.” And Severus didn’t even have to lie about
that.

Crouch’s brow lowered. “I will see him dead.”

Severus took note of the anger written over Crouch’s female features and
hummed. “I was rather hoping for the honour myself.”

“He killed Rabastan.” Crouch snapped out. “He’s mine!”

Severus shrugged as though unconcerned. “If that is the wish of the Dark Lord
then so be it.”

“Know this: I don’t trust you.” Crouch said bluntly. “From everything I’ve
been told you had a thing for Lily Potter and I know the urge to avenge a
lover.”

Severus allowed a faintly amused smile to drift over his lips despite the rage
that surged inside, the brief thought that Crouch was right about his
trustworthiness and why. “Your source being Pettigrew the rat, I assume?” He
shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t believe much that passes *his* lips. It is true
that Lily and I were friends once but I made my choice and she made hers.’ He
let the smile settle. “And we were never lovers.”

“You wanted to be.” Crouch accused him roundly.

“Of course, I wanted to be at one time,” Severus said lightly, ‘I was a
teenage boy and she was an attractive witch. But she chose Potter.’ He
gestured. “And I committed my life to the Dark Lord.”

“Do you deny that you tried to prevent Father’s attempt to obtain the
Philosopher’s stone?” Crouch argued, stubbing his cigarette out in an ashtray
on the bedside table.

“I tried to prevent *Quirrell* from obtaining the Philosopher’s stone.”
Severus countered. “Had I known it was the Dark Lord, I would have made every
attempt to assist him. Since he never revealed himself to me, I can only
assume he wanted to succeed alone and he would have done so had Potter not
gotten in the way.”

Crouch was barely mollified, Severus noted.

“I’ve watched you around the school. You are close with the old fool, with
Moody, with Black.” Crouch argued.

And that was confirmation that Crouch had access enough to Hogwarts to note
the various relationships Severus had fostered.

“Have you never heard of keeping your friends close but your enemies closer?”
Severus smiled cruelly. “As a spy I have to cultivate some relationships that
I would prefer to avoid but cultivate them I must if I am to be of service to
the Dark Lord.”

Crouch glared at him. “I don’t trust you…”

“But the Dark Lord does,” Severus interrupted smoothly, “otherwise we would
not be here, and since I have not brought the Aurors or worse, *Black*, to
your door, one might assume that the Dark Lord knows best.” He stood.

Crouch stared at him. “You’re not leaving.”

“I have imparted the information I have.” Severus said. “Of course, if you
have further instructions from the Dark Lord I will stay and listen.” He gazed
at Crouch questioningly.

The younger wizard looked perturbed but he drew himself up sharply, a keen
gaze entering his too bright eyes. “I may need you for something we have
planned for Yule.” He waved towards Severus. “I will send you a parchment as
Madame Albright when I wish to convey information rather than use Karkaroff.”

Severus began to wind his scarf back around his neck and head. “Very well. I
trust that you can leave the room in a state befitting a romantic tryst? I
will ensure I’m not seen as I depart.”

Crouch smiled sharply. “Goodbye, lover.”

Severus scowled and walked out. A shudder ran through him as he closed the
door on Crouch. He cast a Disillusionment spell on himself and went out
through the staff exit down the back stairs and through the kitchen. He
apparated to the Hogwarts’ gates and hurried back to his quarters.

He needed a drink, Severus determined as he entered the living room, grateful
for the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth.

He divested himself of his cloak and scarf but kept his gloves on to draw out
the stack of parchments Crouch had handed him and placed them in a wooden box.
He would test them for poisons and potions the following day, he decided. He
finally peeled the gloves away careful not to touch the outside of them,
tossing them into the fire in case they had become contaminated.

Constant vigilance, Severus thought wryly. Moody would be proud.

He glanced at the clock as he poured himself a drink. Albus would be awake,
probably Moody too, although he expected Black and Potter to have retired for
the night. Still, his report could wait until morning. Apart from the news
that something definitely was planned for Yule, something they had already
suspected, there was nothing new to report.

Other than Crouch was indeed bat-shit insane and apparently thought the Dark
Lord had adopted him.

Severus shuddered again and tossed back his whiskey. He wondered whether
Crouch was aware that the Dark Lord was simply playing on his Daddy issues. He
doubted it. And what would happen when he was faced with the truth of it,
Severus mused. Possibly it would be enough to send him over the edge
completely.

Which might not be a good thing.

The Dark Lord was evil and clever and cruel but he was *sane*. And a sane
wizard could be predicted. A crazy wizard, on the other hand…

A crazy wizard did things like dress up like the ghost of a dead woman to
seduce a spy and test his loyalties.

Severus poured himself another drink and tried to ignore the scent that
lingered; the fantasy Crouch had guessed at so accurately. He grimaced at
Crouch’s tactics. There was always more than one way to torture someone and
Crouch had succeeded in tearing open most of Severus’s barely healed wounds,
although Severus was assured that he hadn’t allowed any of them to actually
bleed in Crouch’s presence.

Crouch was remarkably dangerous, Severus concluded with reluctant admiration.
Crazy, dangerous and out for Black’s blood; a lethal combination. For the
first time ever, Severus found himself worried about Sirius Black. Merlin knew
Black had wounds all over him ready to be ripped open and Black would bleed
himself to death for Potter.

Severus shook his head. He’d talk with Black in the morning, warn him. Knowing
Black he probably already knew Crouch was insane and dangerous but it was a
point worth repeating. He glanced at the wooden box with its potentially
lethal contents and picked it up, heading into his private lab to begin
testing them immediately. Potions had always settled his nerves and he was
prepared to admit, if only to himself, that he needed them settled.

o-O-o

*10**th* *December 1994*

Boys, thought Hermione, reading the note from Harry explaining why he was
grounded to his suite of rooms for the weekend (barring his mind healer
session and duelling elective and other official commitments that Sirius
deemed he had to do) with exasperation. Why hadn’t he just waited and talked
to Ron in the morning?

She shot Ron an annoyed look as he fed Hedwig a piece of bacon. It was just
the two of them that morning as Neville had a date with Hannah, and the rest
of the Gryffindor fourth year had apparently decided to sleep in.

“Don’t blame me!” Ron said, not looking at her. “I didn’t ask him to come to
the dorm!”

That was true.

“And he promised me we’d do a Quidditch practice just the two of us this
weekend so it’s not as though I haven’t lost out because Sirius caught him
either.” Ron complained, a faint look of disappointment on his face.

It was the disappointment that convinced Hermione more than anything that Ron
hadn’t been complicit in Harry’s midnight run to the Gryffindor dorm.

“Why didn’t he just wait?” Hermione wondered out loud.

Ron’s freckled face turned sheepish. “He, uh, kind of picked up that I was
upset about Percy and…” he sighed, feeding Hedwig another piece of bacon,
“came to talk to me.”

The last part was mumbled and Hermione was pleased that she’d had three years
already of interpreting Ron.

It was sweet of Harry to have been concerned about Ron, Hermione sighed,
finally letting go of the topic to tuck into her porridge. And just like Harry
to have gotten the idea to go talk with Ron and instead of waiting just gone
ahead and done it.

The risk had been minimal, Hermione thought. Harry had the invisibility cloak
and while they knew Crouch and company had masqueraded as fake Durmstrang
students, the patrolling security were also well aware and on the look-out for
students out of place. The dorm and Harry’s room were also both in Gryffindor
tower so it was unlikely that Harry would have run into trouble, but…

But Harry had sneaked out.

It was that more than anything that had probably prompted Sirius to ground
him. If Harry had woken Sirius up and just asked him, Sirius would probably
have agreed and, OK, probably escorted him there and back just to be safe.

She couldn’t really blame Sirius for grounding Harry for sneaking out. It was
just annoying. She had hoped to talk to him about the whole Ron situation. And
she guessed from Harry’s offer to Ron to spend time just the two of them that
Harry had noticed that things were awkward too, despite her and Harry trying
to ensure Ron felt included.

Which created another issue, Hermione figured, in that in trying so hard to
include Ron, both she and Harry had started resenting his presence at times.

They’d known, Hermione reminded herself briskly; they’d known when they’d
started dating that the dynamic between the three of them would change. They’d
just naively assumed it would be easy to deal with.

The truth was that her own changed dynamic with Harry made Hermione feel
slightly breathless and dizzy with happiness every time she thought about it.
Harry wasn’t perfect, but he always made her feel important and special when
they were together even if it was just holding her hand, or occasionally
smiling at her across a classroom. He had turned out really good at romantic
gestures too. The roses that he had given her on their dates and to ask her
out initially had been dried and preserved by Dobby; the snow globe sat on her
bedside table. It had been oohed and ahed at for a long time by the other
girls in the dorm. He was very good at kissing too — not that Hermione had
previous experience, but compared to some of the horror stories she’d heard
(sloppy with drool, too hard and aggressive, too much tongue), she believed he
was good enough, especially as it made her heart beat faster and her blood
buzz with pleasure.

Hormones, thought Hermione logically, but it didn’t take away the fact that
she enjoyed kissing Harry.

So, she and Harry were good, great even; the problem was Ron.

It wasn’t exactly Ron’s fault.

Hermione knew that.

They had been the ones to assure him that he wouldn’t be left out once she and
Harry started dating, and perhaps that was just the problem; she and Harry
were making every effort to make sure Ron was OK at the detriment to the time
they should be spending together. And perhaps the truth was that it wasn’t so
much that Hermione wanted more alone time with Harry — although that would be
nice — but that Harry had such limited time anyway.

She could understand Ron not wanting to let go of any minute to spend with his
best friend, when said best friend was no longer living in the dorm and eating
in the Great Hall, no longer on the Quidditch team, and was generally less
available. If Harry had been dating anyone else, Hermione believed that Ron
would have already been sulking over losing even more time with Harry. As it
was, when she and Harry weren’t officially on dates, it was still the three of
them — four sometimes if Neville joined them at lunch.

It was a difficult balancing act.

Hermione still believed a lot of it could be alleviated if Ron would start
dating himself and so had something — someone else to spend time with.

Lavender was perfect. She was very interested in Ron, thought he was adorable,
and even thought his cluelessness was adorable. Maybe she wasn’t going to end
up Mrs Ronald Weasley but Hermione thought she was a good first girlfriend for
Ron — one who genuinely seemed to care for him. Hermione had never thought she
would be the type of friend who started dating only to push others to do the
same but it was a solution to The Problem of Rarely Getting Time Alone with
Harry.

There was no better time to start pushing Ron towards some kind of
realisation, Hermione thought, then right at that moment. It was only the two
of them at breakfast (she wasn’t counting Hedwig who’d delivered the missives
from Harry) and Lavender was nowhere in sight.

“So,” Hermione set her letter from Harry aside, “have you thought about who
you’re going to invite to the Ball?”

Ron’s head whipped around so fast she thought he might give himself whiplash.
He paled under his freckles. “Well, we’re all going together, aren’t we?”

Hermione’s heart sank because she had known on some level that Ron had been
thinking that and she just wasn’t doing it. She wanted a special night with
Harry, and fortunately the tournament gave her an excuse.

“That’s not going to be possible, Ron,” she shook her head before he started
to argue with her, ‘the Champions are going to open the Ball with a dance —
something neither Harry nor I are looking forward to — and then we sit on the
Champions’ table and have to do the whole political thing of mingling
afterwards.’ She looked at him sympathetically. “We’ll spend time with you
after, of course we will, but…”

“No, I get it.” Ron said morosely. He crossed his arms. “What am I going to
do?”

“Well, who do you like?” Hermione asked bluntly.

“Fleur.” Ron blushed, red adorning his cheeks almost the same colour as his
hair. “I mean, she’s perfect and it would be perfect because then you, Harry
and I would be together too doing all the Champion stuff I mean.”

Hermione hummed. “I think she’s going with Robert Ogden.”

“Oh.” Ron sighed heavily. “That’s just the thing isn’t it? All the good
looking girls will have been snatched up by now.”

“Not all,” Hermione said quickly, swallowing the urge to ask him why looks
were the only criteria he was basing his choice upon, “I know Lavender and
Parvati are still looking for a date.”

Ron frowned. “Maybe I’ll ask Ginny.” He said as though Hermione hadn’t spoken.
“She won’t get to go unless someone asks her and it’ll make up for, you know…”

It wasn’t a half bad plan, and in other circumstances Hermione knew she might
have encouraged it since Ron’s silent treatment with his sister did need to be
fixed.

“What’s wrong with Lavender?” Hermione said pointedly.

Ron blinked at her as though confused. “We’re talking about Ginny.”

“You’re talking about Ginny,” Hermione said exasperated, “I’m talking about
Lavender.” She pushed her finished porridge to the side and reached for the
fruit bowl.

“Why are you talking about Lavender when I’m talking about Ginny?” asked Ron,
perplexed.

“Because you weren’t listening to me tell you that Lavender is without a
date.” Hermione said firmly.

“I heard you,” Ron said impatiently, “and I said that I’d ask Ginny.”

Hermione took a deep breath and reminded herself getting frustrated with Ron
would not be conducive to getting him to agree to ask Lavender to the Ball.

“Why not Lavender?” Hermione asked again.

Ron sighed. “Look, I know I’ve been a pain with Ginny since the whole thing
with you getting attacked by Jessica and I want to make it up to her. The
Ball’s a good way of doing that, and I don’t have to do all this poncying
about getting a date. I saw that globe thing Harry gave you; I don’t have time
to do anything like that.”

Hermione bit her lip. “OK, I see that it would be a nice thing for you to do
for Ginny, and I’m sure she’d appreciate it as a gesture of reconciliation,
but it’s a special night and don’t you want to spend it with someone other
than your sister? And I appreciate that you don’t have time,” or skill,
Hermione filled in silently, “to do something extra, extra special to ask
someone else, but I doubt anyone will expect a snow globe. I’m sure the most
they’d expect is something like Harry gave me for our first date — a rose or
some other flower as a gesture.”

“Maybe,” Ron said doubtfully, ‘but still; I think I’ll ask Ginny.’ He fed
Hedwig once last piece of bacon and offered a letter to her. “For Percy,
Hedwig. Harry said you wouldn’t mind delivering it.”

Hedwig cocked her head and stuck her leg out. Ron tied on the letter and
Hedwig took flight.

“I wish you’d reconsider, Ron,” Hermione tried one last time, “Lavender really
likes you; she’d say yes.”

Ron shook his head. “I told you; I’m asking Ginny.” He brightened. “In fact,
why don’t I do that right now?” He was away from the table before Hermione
could protest.

She battled the urge to hit her head against the solid wood of the table. Once
Ron got that stubborn set to his jaw, there was no arguing with him. Well,
Hermione told herself briskly, you could argue but it would only lead to angry
words.

So, Hermione thought somewhat despairingly, her first attempt at match-making
was a dismal failure.

Luna slipped into the seat beside her and started to help herself to breakfast
fare. “You seem contemplative this morning, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded. “I’m thinking I make a poor match-maker.”

“But you’re more worried that perhaps you make a poor friend.” Luna said in
the direct way she had that Hermione both admired and was shocked by in equal
measure.

“Maybe.” Hermione admitted, squirming under the observation. ‘It’s… I don’t
want Harry all to myself, I don’t. His friendship with Ron is important to
him… “he wouldn’t have sneaked out in the middle of the night to talk with him
if it wasn’t important to him,” and my friendship with Ron is important to me
too,’ although perhaps secondary to Hermione’s friendship with Harry never
mind her relationship, “but I just…”

“It’s hard to rebalance when one person steadfastly remains in the same
position while the other two have moved?” Luna offered.

“Yes,” Hermione said, “that!”

“But why would Ron finding someone to date move him from his current
position?” Luna asked, her attention apparently on the mushrooms she was
spooning onto toast rather than Hermione.

Hermione was caught by the question. “Well, he’d understand about needing time
alone with his girlfriend.”

Luna raised her thin blonde eyebrows and Hermione sighed.

“Or maybe not.” She admitted ruefully. Especially if the choice was forced
upon him rather than one that he wanted. ‘You’re right. You’re right.’ She
threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m pushing Ron into something and it’s not the
solution.” She sighed. “Not if I want to be a good friend.”

“And a good match-maker.” Luna added sagely.

Hermione chuckled. “That too.” She pressed her lips together. “It seemed like
such a good solution. Lavender really, *really* likes him and I think Ron
would enjoy having a girlfriend of his own.”

“What does Harry think?” asked Luna.

Hermione propped her head up on her hand, her elbow on the table. “He’s kind
of agreed with me when I’ve said we should get Ron together with Lavender
but…”

Harry had a tendency not to argue with her when she put an idea forward; if he
disagreed he just worked around her. In hindsight he’d often agreed with her
about finding someone for Ron in a jokey way rather than a serious one. And
hadn’t Harry in terms of his actions gone to the trouble of seeking Ron out?
Talking to him? Offering to spend one to one time with him? And that… that
maybe was the difference between their approaches, Hermione thought with
chagrin. Perhaps Harry had the right of it; maybe what Ron wanted wasn’t to
encroach on Hermione’s time with Harry but to re-establish some time of his
own with him.

Hermione sighed. “I think Harry thinks Ron would like to spend time with Harry
on his own.”

Luna hummed and finished her mouthful of food.

“And I should be thinking of ways to help them achieve that rather than trying
to push Ron at Lavender.” Hermione nodded briskly. Maybe Ron would get
together with Lavender, maybe he wouldn’t; but it was not for Hermione to
decide and she felt lighter without it weighing on her. She’d talk to Harry
when he wasn’t grounded and figure out something. “Thanks, Luna.”

“I haven’t said anything very much.” Luna pointed out.

“You asked all the right questions,” Hermione replied dryly, “and it’s
definitely sometimes what you don’t say than what you do that makes the
difference.”

Luna smiled brightly. “I did have another reason for sitting beside you.”

Hermione straightened. “Yes?”

“I think I’ve noticed a new form of bug,” Luna said cheerfully, “kind of
related to a beetle perhaps but it flies and it has a peculiar facial
decoration. It also seems to have strangely random habits and from what I’ve
observed isn’t that interested in eating but following humans around. I was
hoping you might help me observe for a day?”

Since she owed Luna for the whole Ron-Lavender advice (because she had a
feeling there wasn’t an actual bug just another of Luna’s imaginary
creatures), Hermione nodded. “I have some electives this morning but we can go
bug watching this afternoon?”

“Perfect.” Luna beamed at her. “That would be perfect.”

Feeling slightly better about the situation with Ron, Hermione practically
skipped away from breakfast, returning to Gryffindor tower to collect a couple
of books for her Healing elective. It was fascinating and it had reconfirmed
to Hermione that it was what she wanted to do with her life.

Her sense of light-heartedness disappeared as soon as she entered the Common
Room and walked in on Ron and Ginny centre stage yelling at each other.

She absently noticed that everyone else in the Common Room, the Weasley twins
included, had taken defensive positions in the corners giving the squabbling
siblings a wide berth.

“…and I say you’re not going out with him!” Ron yelled.

“It’s not your decision to make!” Ginny shouted back. “I can go out with
whoever I like!”

“You haven’t exactly been making good decisions lately!” Ron retorted.

Ginny’s eyes blazed at her brother. “Don’t you dare throw that in my face! You
know Lydia and me didn’t have any idea that Jessica was going to attack
Hermione!”

“You didn’t get detentions for nothing!” Ron shot back at her. “You admitted
you’d all talked about it!”

“*Talked*, Ron! I didn’t think any of us were thinking of doing anything
seriously and neither did Lydia!” Ginny said hotly. “And yeah; we are punished
for it anyway and Hermione has already forgiven me!”

“Leave Hermione out of this!” Ron ordered. “She has nothing to do with you
dating Michael Corner!”

“You were the one who brought it all up again and I’m not dating Michael!”
Ginny snarled back. “I just agreed to go to the Ball with him!”

“Over my dead body!” Ron said.

“That can be arranged!” Ginny muttered and stormed off up the girls’ staircase
where she knew Ron couldn’t follow her.

“Bloody come back here!” Ron shouted up the stairs.

The faint reply of ’Bugger Off! “drifted down to the Common Room. It was
probably best Ginny was wary of the anti-bullying policy after the whole thing
with Jessica, Hermione considered hearing the anger that vibrated through the
words; Ginny had a very mean Bat Bogey hex when she was riled.

Hermione assessed the situation and wandered over to Ron, noting everyone else
was carefully continuing to keep their distance. “Ginny’s going to the Ball
with Michael Corner?”

Ron shoved his hand through his hair. “Bollocks!”

And Hermione wondered what Ron was most upset about; that Ginny was going to
the Ball with Michael or that she wasn’t available to go to the Ball with him.
She placed a consoling arm around his shoulders.

“Come on,” Hermione said gently, “I’ll just grab my Healing books and we can
go to duelling. It’s our only chance to see Harry today.”

Ron nodded, some of the colour fading from his face. “Yeah,” he said
gratefully, “let’s go and see Harry.”

“Maybe you can rearrange your Quidditch practice with him.” Hermione
suggested. “I’m sure he was looking forward to it too.”

“You’re brilliant, Hermione.” Ron said grinning at her. “Just brilliant.”

Hermione tried to hide her wince. “I have my moments.” She said and scarpered
up the stairs before he realised just how not brilliant she had been at
breakfast.

o-O-o

*11**th* *December 1994*

The Black farm near the River Batova was beautiful. It was a rural work of
art; large rambling farm house, enough worker cottages and outbuildings to
provide individual space for any number of people, and completely
self-sufficient. It was easily defensible; had a good amount of land and was
actually already surrounded by a nine foot fence which threw a lightning bolt
at anyone who came near it — both from the inside and the outside.

It was the perfect place for a werewolf sanctuary.

Remus mused again at how forward thinking Sirius could be at times,
remembering their first conversation about where to put a sanctuary…

“*I don’t think the chateau is right in the long term.” Sirius commented, his
image blurring slightly in the mirror.*

*Remus sighed. “I’d rather stay in France. I know the French Alpha, Robert,
somewhat although it was many moons ago and I know he’ll deal fairly with
other werewolves,” he forced himself to say the full truth, “another pack,
encroaching on his territory.”*

“*Hmmm. There are no other suitable properties in France.” Sirius murmured, a
crease forming between his brows as he thought about it.*

“*So the chateau it is.” Remus said briskly.*

*Sirius shot him a look over the mirror. “Look, Remus, I can understand
wanting to stay in France — you know the territory so to speak, and admittedly
it will be easy for anyone from Britain to get there since portkeys are
ten-a-knut to France and there’s plenty of muggle transportation to boot.”*

“*But?” prompted Remus.*

“*But at some point Greyback is going to learn of the exodus and frankly, the
chateau is not set-up for either a siege or for defence. It was a holiday
place for the Potters with the side benefit of producing wine.” Sirius’s
expression grew fond and nostalgic. “Really, really great wine.”*

*Remus ignored the last comment and focused on the main point. “I take it you
have another suggestion?”*

“*The farms out in the Balkans you mentioned would probably be more suitable,
particularly the Black one.” Sirius said simply. “Look, let’s start off in
France. It’s close, you have the relationship with Robert, and the chateau
doesn’t have a great deal of work to do on it before it could house guests. In
the meantime, build up a relationship with…”*

“*Gregor.” Remus supplied as Sirius floundered.*

“…*and take a gander at the Balkan properties. Choose one of them as a back-up
plan for when Greyback finds out.” Sirius said.*

It had been a very good idea, Remus thought wryly, as he took in the delighted
faces of the thirty-eight other werewolves around him as they settled around
the large communal table in the farmhouse kitchen. He was infinitely more
pleased when Clara slipped into the seat beside him. He allowed himself a
moment of appreciation for her red cap of hair, warm brown eyes and wide
welcoming smile.

“This place is great.” Clara declared brightly. “I love it.”

Remus nodded. “It’s certainly more secure than the chateau.”

And there was a hint of relief in his own voice at that. He’d known
intellectually that he and Fenrir were heading towards a showdown but finding
out that Voldemort had made his death a requirement for Fenrir to have
Voldemort’s support for his violence had rocked him a bit.

It had always bemused Remus why Fenrir followed Voldemort. Fenrir was
definitely an Alpha; he was very much a leader and expected his word to be
followed as law within the pack. When Remus had been involved with the pack
peripherally during his spying days, he had steered clear of direct
confrontations with Fenrir but he had gotten to know enough pack members that
he knew Fenrir’s leadership style. It seemed bizarre that Fenrir kowtowed to
Voldemort.

But maybe there was an attraction at being given legitimacy, Remus mused as he
dug into the beef stew the elves had prepared. With Voldemort, Fenrir was
recognised as a leader by someone other than his own pack albeit a leader not
equal to Voldemort himself. And there were the benefits Voldemort dangled in
Fenrir’s face; freedom to roam unmolested, unchallenged; permission to bite
whomever and wherever he wanted… a heady temptation for someone who embraced
the violence of his wolf, who was more the wolf than he was the wizard he had
once been.

The dinner was a lively affair.

Remus watched over everyone to assess how they were settling. Cliques were
beginning to form. The couples in the original group who had first been at the
chateau had grouped together somewhat, forming solid friendships. The others,
including those who had fled after Fenrir’s call for volunteers for raiding,
had formed into two other groups; one group of single werewolves who were all
relatively young, and a second group of couples.

It was a good arrangement in some respects, Remus thought. Each grouping
provided support and companionship in a relatable way for its members. There
wasn’t any sign of hostility among the groups or the individuals which was a
relief. There would no doubt be conflict eventually. Thirty-eight different
people meant thirty-eight different personalities and some would clash. He’d
be expected as Alpha to intervene and make judgements in conflicts.

He needed a beta, Remus mused. His gaze shifted to the woman beside him. Clara
was a strong wolf; very much like himself in her views and opinions, in her
education. He felt deep down he could trust her to make the calls in his
absence. Moreover, she was the exception to the groupings, seemingly content
to drift between them and therefore held no allegiance to any other than the
entire pack as a single entity.

There might be an issue with some of them with him choosing a female for a
beta but Remus set his jaw stubbornly. If he was going to have a pack then his
pack was going to be what he wanted. Of course, he was really going to have to
think about it more because someone (Sirius) might claim that putting Clara as
his beta was more about Remus fancying her than about her being right for the
job. And someone (Sirius) might be right about that, Remus thought wryly.

He mopped up the last of his stew with freshly baked bread and sighed in
contentment as the dishes were whisked away, the very excellent beer refilled,
and a dessert of sour cherry tart appeared with sweetened natural yoghurt as
an accompanying sauce.

It looked delicious and Remus was about to tuck in when Jugen the head elf at
the farm popped in beside him.

“Honoured Steward,” Jugen said in heavily accented English, “there be Balkan
wolfy at the gate.”

Remus frowned. He’d had a floo call with Gregor the day before to confirm
Gregor’s acceptance of the pack establishing its base in Gregor’s territory.
Perhaps he should have expected a personal visit of some kind. He nodded
briskly at Jugen and stood up.

“You should not go alone.” Patrick, the single wolf who had been with the pack
since the beginning at the chateau, and who was probably the other natural
candidate for beta, stood up.

He was a relatively young man; sixteen when bitten at the end of the previous
war, he had fallen into the fringes of Fenrir’s pack. He had been as unhappy
with Fenrir as leader as Sian and just as seemingly incapable of challenging
Fenrir himself. Despite that, Patrick was good at organising and had fallen
naturally into helping Remus with the move to the Balkans. He was also very
sociable and well-liked by all the werewolves in the pack; he loved pack life
in a way that Remus couldn’t grasp and was self-educated in a range of
different eclectic subjects.

Clara nodded in agreement. “Patrick and I will accompany you, Remus.”

And there, Remus thought with a sigh, was the pack’s leadership team forming
right in front of him, and it probably wasn’t a bad thing because Clara and
Patrick balanced each other out. As if in agreement, the others were nodding,
content to stay at the table and allow the pair to assume the task of
protecting the Alpha.

Remus didn’t protest either Patrick’s or Clara’s presence; he led the way out
of the kitchen and as soon as they were clear of the farmhouse, they apparated
to the gate.

He recognised the werewolf standing there immediately and gave the command to
allow him entry even as he went to greet him with a wide smile. “Tomas.”

Tomas smiled back, easy and friendly. “Alpha Lupin.”

“I’ve told you before; call me Remus.” Remus instructed with a sigh as he
clasped forearms with Tomas. He gestured at Patrick at his right shoulder and
Clara at his left. “Tomas, this is Patrick Keefe and Clara Holliday. Patrick,
Clara; this is Tomas Lubric. He serves in the Auror guard for the Bulgarian
Minister and is a member of the Balkans’ pack.”

Tomas nodded at Patrick and Clara who nodded back warily.

Remus ushered them all back to the farmhouse, bringing Tomas side-along with
himself. Within seconds Remus and Tomas were ensconced in the cosy den, plates
of cherry tart served along with fresh beer for Remus and coffee for Tomas as
they settled down to talk. Patrick and Clara had left to join the others in
the kitchen and reassure them all was well.

“Alpha Popov sends greetings and well wishes to the Lupin pack.” Tomas began
after the elves disappeared.

“The Lupin pack thanks him for his consideration and his graciousness in
allowing us to stay within his territory.” Remus said formally. “We are in his
debt.”

“There is no debt between friends and family.” Tomas returned. “Gregor
believes this more than anything.”

Remus smiled. He liked Gregor very much and he had a feeling the Slavic pack
leader saw himself as some kind of a mentor to Remus.

“He has asked that I serve as a liaison between our packs.” Tomas continued.
“If that is acceptable to you, Alpha?”

“More than.” Remus said. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the pack after our
discussion. You should probably meet Sirius and Harry formally at some point
too.” He always made an effort to reinforce that he considered them his pack.

“I vould like that.” Tomas said simply, rubbing his fingers on a napkin. “You
have chosen your beta?”

“Not exactly,” Remus said, shifting under Tomas’s regard, “Patrick and Clara
both volunteered to escort me to see who was at the gate. They’re the prime
candidates. If it was Clara I know there might be gender issues…”

“Probably not when in human form,” Tomas interrupted, “but it is most likely
when wolves.”

Remus nodded slowly, reconsidering his earlier thought. He didn’t think as a
wolf, Remus mused, and that was a disadvantage as a pack leader.

“So… probably Patrick then.” Remus said out loud.

“With your Clara as a den mother.” Tomas added. “They will make a good
balance, hmmm?”

And Tomas had put into words what Remus had subconsciously noted as they’d
left the kitchen.

“I was just thinking that myself.” Remus admitted with a chuckle.

Tomas nodded and drew out an envelope from his robes. “From the Minister’s
office.”

Remus raised both eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t expected to get such a fast
reply to his request for a personal meeting with Bogdan to discuss an issue of
security with the Durmstrang ship at Hogwarts. He opened the envelope and
scanned the letter; an invite to breakfast the next day.

That was fast.

“Wow.” Remus murmured.

“He is eager to meet vith you to discuss the issue you stated.” Tomas stated.
“Gregor also has told him about allowing your pack to occupy the farm and I
believe the Minister is looking to bid you velcome.”

Remus nodded slowly. It wasn’t unexpected that Gregor had informed his
government but it set nerves flying in Remus’s belly.

“I look forward to our breakfast.” He placed the letter back in its envelope
and set it aside. “Let’s go introduce you to the others. I’ll pen a reply
while you speak with them.” He declared.

An hour later, Tomas had departed, the pack was in their chosen accommodations
sleeping and Remus was talking to Sirius on the mirror.

“You and Bogdan really did get on like a house on fire, didn’t you?” Sirius
commented.

Remus waved away Sirius’s words. “I think it has more to do with us moving our
pack to his country.”

“Well, good, if it means we can speak with him quicker.” Sirius said, pushing
a hand through his hair and looking every year of his age.

“How’s it going with Harry?” asked Remus, getting to the source of Sirius’s
concern. The mirror call the day before had been one long complaining session
by Sirius about Harry sneaking out.

Sirius sighed heavily. “He’s fine.”

“Pissed?” inquired Remus. “Sulking?”

“No,” Sirius shook his head, ‘he’s actually fairly accepting that he broke the
rules, put himself at risk and therefore has to pay the consequences. He’s
been quiet but… fine.’ He grimaced. “Do you have any idea how many times I
sneaked out of the tower after curfew, Remus?”

Ah.

Remus repressed the urge to sigh himself. Sirius really struggled with being a
disciplinarian. It wasn’t Sirius’s fault. Sirius had never said but it had
been obvious even as kids that Sirius’s parents had been abusive. Sirius
tended to equate being disciplined with being hurt — and while he’d had a
couple of years under Charlus Potter’s system, Sirius had never lost that
learned belief. It was likely that Sirius on some subconscious level felt he
was hurting Harry disciplining him. Of course, some of it simply was Sirius
feeling like a hypocrite for telling Harry off for breaking the same rules
Sirius had broken as a teenager. Remus figured every parent had their own
moment of hypocrisy and Sirius should stop dwelling on it. But then as much as
he loved Harry and was invested in raising him, he had the freedom of not
being the actual parent and therefore possibly had no idea how it felt
punishing a child for doing something he’d done himself.

“He obviously knows you have to punish him even if you did do it yourself in
the past,” Remus reassured Sirius, “and besides, you didn’t have people
wanting to kill you when you sneaked out; Harry does.”

“Snape.” Sirius retorted.

“Not the same thing and you know it.” Remus frowned. “Speaking of Severus, has
he heard anything more about the Yule thing?”

“Now who’s impatient?” questioned Sirius archly. He shook his head. “It’s only
been a couple of days and Yule is weeks away. He may not hear from Junior for
quite a while.”

“I still can’t believe he told you to be careful.” Remus said out loud.

Sirius shrugged. “His official diagnosis of Junior was that he’s madder than a
box of cats hyped up on catnip and dressed up in Easter bonnets and therefore
unpredictable.”

“Have you told Harry?” asked Remus.

“I’ve told him Snape has been informed that something is being planned for
Yule.” Sirius fidgeted. “I haven’t said anything to him about Snape thinking
Junior’s definitely going to come after me in some way at some point. He
already knows Junior blames me for Rabastan… there’s no need to spell it out
and ultimately it’s only Snape’s opinion. Harry has enough to worry about.”

Remus nodded slowly. He agreed with Sirius’s decision. “How’s the second task
planning coming?”

“The kids have done well pulling together a plan. Most of the alliance cooed
over it. Daphne Greengrass sweet-talked her father into sending her half a
library on sailing and magical spells for boats.” Sirius said with a grin. The
grin faded. “Harry’s worrying over whether someone he cares about will be
taken but we don’t know what criteria were set in the task for the Goblet to
choose.”

“It could be a thing.” Remus countered.

“It could be Harry himself.” Sirius waved a hand, distorting the image in the
mirror for a moment. ‘It doesn’t make any difference to him brooding over it.’
He sighed heavily. “Healer Allen says it’s natural enough and he’ll work
through it but… it’s not as though I can promise Harry nobody will get hurt.”

“I’m not sure anything we say will help take away his anxiety about losing
someone he cares about, Padfoot.” Remus said sadly. “He lost James and Lily;
that’s the root of it. Even if he doesn’t remember losing them, he knows how
his life was without love in it and he fears that history will repeat itself.”

They all did. Remus felt a familiar tug of worry pull at his own gut; a tug
that whispered that he’d lose his pack again, be alone again, be bereft again.
And mostly he knew that it was because of his certainty that if Harry ever
died, Sirius would either be dead from trying to prevent it from happening or
die in the attempt to avenge him.

Sirius’s grey eyes met his knowingly in the mirror. “We’re a right bunch,
aren’t we, Moony?”

And that gave away Sirius’s own anxiety over losing the people he loved again,
Remus mused.

Sirius motioned for Remus to ignore his last comment. “Get some sleep and
enjoy your breakfast with the Minister.”

The mirror winked out without any further notice and Remus huffed in annoyance
before conceding that Sirius probably had been upset at the last part of their
conversation and needed to hide for a while.

He should be there, Remus thought guiltily. He should be there rather than in
Bulgaria playing Alpha to werewolves who needed… needed a sanctuary and
someone to stand for them.

Bugger.

Remus pushed a hand through his hair and took himself off to bed.

Breakfast at the Bulgarian Ministry was intimidating.

The Minister’s dining room was huge, able to accommodate huge parties, and the
large table claiming the centre of the room reflected that in its many, many
chairs. Only two places had been set at the top of the table; the head place
which Bogdan occupied and the seat to the right of him which the officious
secretary who had shown Remus in, pulled out for him as Remus shook hands with
Bogdan.

“*Sit, sit!*” Bogdan said in Bulgarian, ushering Remus into the chair.

An instant later, waiters arrived with a veritable feast of breakfast foods.
Remus succumbed to Bogdan’s obvious hospitality and accepted an array of
bacon, sausage, fried potatoes, mushrooms, tomatoes and a beautifully fried
egg sunny side up. He noticed Bogdan stuck with a porridge like bowl of cereal
and some fresh fruit.

“*Diet.*” Bogdan said with a grimace, patting his rounded stomach. “*My wife
insists.*”

Remus nodded politely, his mouth full of sausage.

“*I welcome you and your pack to Bulgaria.*” Bogdan said warmly. “*I was most
pleased when Gregor informed me you had requested permission to build a
sanctuary here.*”

“*Thank you and I’m glad you approved the move.*” Remus replied, patting his
mouth with his napkin. He had a feeling Gregor would claim that he had told
Bogdan than requested his permission but he wasn’t getting in the middle of
their relationship.

“*How could I not?*” Bogdan said with a good-natured smile. “*You, I trust,
Remus.*”

“*Thank you.*” Remus said again, thinking back to how Bill had once commented
that he’d be worried about Remus building a pack if it wasn’t for the fact
that it was *Remus* building the pack. It gave him a warm glow to think people
trusted him so much.

“*I have also received your request from Tomas regarding the Durmstrang
ship.*” Bogdan’s brow lowered. “*You are certain that there are Death Eaters
hiding on the ship?*”

Remus nodded quickly. “*Certain of it. Igor Karkaroff has admitted as much to
our spy and the circumstantial evidence suggests that they used the ship as
the base when they attempted to sabotage the first task. However, there isn’t
any official evidence that carries enough weight for the British government to
present a formal request through international diplomacy.*”

“*And in the meantime, these dogs continue to use the Durmstrang ship.*”
Bogdan hit the top of the table with his clenched first. “*Bastards!*”

“*Hence the informal request from Lord Black, although Cornelius — Minister
Fudge — is aware that we are approaching you and supports us.*” Remus said
seriously. “*If we could have your permission to search the ship, we could
find these men and arrest them.*”

Bogdan’s face fell. He sighed and picked up a segment of grapefruit with a
sour expression. “*Unfortunately, it is not that easy, my friend.*” He waved
his small spoon at Remus. “*What do you know of Durmstrang, the school not the
ship?*”

Remus paused in slicing another piece of bacon up. “*Very little.*” He
admitted. “*It has a very good reputation as an educational institution
although its curriculum slides across some Dark magic too much for British
tastes which skew to the Light.*”

“*And it’s location?*” pressed Bogdan, glaring at the grapefruit as though it
could change its taste.

“*Well, I have to admit,*” Remus said hesitantly, “*until it was confirmed it
was Bulgarian territory for the tournament, I wasn’t aware of the exact
location. I know it’s a well-guarded secret.*”

“*It is because Durmstrang has no exact location.*” Bogdan said, giving up on
his grapefruit and reaching for his strong black coffee. “*The school will
move year to year between the states commonly grouped under East Europe and
the Baltics. This year, Bulgaria; next year it may be Russia; the year before
Croatia held the honour. You see?*”

Remus inclined his head. He saw only too well, he feared.

“*It is to do with history.*” Bogdan said. “*Durmstrang came into being
because each state required a magical school but our populations were too
small to build a school like Hogwarts ourselves. Our ancestors pooled our
resources and no-one could agree on a fixed location and eventually one wizard
determined that the school would move each year thus each country would share
in the power and honour of hosting the school if only for a short period each
time. It works well for us and is tradition now.*”

“*I understand.*” Remus said. “*What you’re telling me is that you cannot make
a blanket decision to allow the search because the Durmstrang ship is only
nominally under Bulgarian sovereignty and in actuality involves the
sovereignty of many states.*”

Bogdan nodded. “*If it were my decision alone…*” he jabbed his spoon as though
it was a wand, “*I would have my Aurors searching the ship now.*”

Remus rubbed his head, trying to think of another solution, another way to
convince Bogdan but his mind was a terrifying blank.

“*I want to assure you, Remus, that I will take the informal request to my
opposite numbers and request their permission to allow my Aurors to search
but…*” Bogdan sighed heavily, “*it will take many weeks. While only a few are
sympathetic to these Death Eaters, diplomacy will take some time for pressure
from others to come to bear especially as this is an informal request and not
an official approach.*”

“*Thank you,*” Remus hastened to say, grateful that Bogdan would pursue it,
“*something is better than nothing and in the meantime, we may get the
evidence we need for a formal approach.*”

Bogdan smiled at him widely. “*Now, enough talk of this! You must tell me all
about the first task of the tournament!*”

Remus was happy to oblige the Minister and they happily wiled away the rest of
the hour. It was with a full belly that Remus apparated back to the farm. He
decided a walk was in order to clear his head and physically make himself feel
better about his very delicious breakfast.

It was almost half an hour later that he ran into Clara as he reached the
treeline at the back of the farm. She was dressed warmly in sweatpants, a
fleecy jacket, woollen gloves and hat. She had clearly been running and had
stopped to stretch. She gave him a brilliant smile.

“Remus!” Clara grinned at him. “How was your meeting?”

“Good.” Remus said, surprised to find that he meant it. Somehow on his walk
he’d come to accept getting permission for the search of the ship would take
time. “He’s happy to have our pack here.”