Harry had been watching Ron’s mouth, waiting for that second when it started to open, ever so
slightly. Sandy had told him what to expect. He’d done this in the Dueling Club, trying to be a
step ahead of his opponent. As soon as he saw that slight movement, he began the now-familiar
divorce process, separating his mind and body. He seemed to be rising, floating up and away,
away from corporeal cares and concerns.
“CRUCIO!”
The cry echoed through the forest, but to Harry, it was growing fainter and fainter, as his ears
seemed to be filled with cotton, his nose and mouth filled with cotton, his fingers and every inch
of skin, his muscles and every bit of him down to his bones strangely insensate. He found that he
was in fact floating above his own body, looking down on Ron and Hermione and the Malfoys
and Pettigrew. There was a thread of amber light that connected the wand in Ron’s hand to
Harry’s body. He watched that dynamic thread with fascination, at the way it slowly crackled
and jumped. Ron’s mouth was still open, he was finishing pronouncing the curse. Everything
looked like it was moving oddly sluggishly to Harry, in this floaty universe. He saw that
Hermione was looking at him--or, rather, at his body--with her mouth forming an O of horror.
Perhaps she was screaming again; he had no way of knowing. Whether her horrified expression
was because this was Ron, their friend Ron whom they loved, putting the Cruciatus Curse on
him, or whether it was because that meant she was the one he’d chosen to kill, Harry did not
know.
Then, also moving with what seemed to be excruciating slowness, Draco Malfoy turned and
pointed his wand at his father. As he turned, his hair flew up and stayed momentarily suspended
in the air longer than it should have, as though he were moving underwater. Another crackling
ray of light was emitted gradually from Malfoy’s wand; after what seemed like an interminable
wait, it reached his father. Harry saw his mouth moving lethargically.
STU-PI-FY....
Lucius Malfoy dropped his wand, which seemed to float down to the ground like a feather, and
then he began to fall with an impossible slowness. Harry saw Pettigrew turn his head with a
laconic air that made him seem rather bored. He pointed his wand at Draco Malfoy, and Harry
saw that now he was the one moving his mouth to form the dreaded curse.
CRU.... the mouth began. Ron lifted the wand, breaking the connection between it and Harry.
-CI.... Pettigrew’s mouth formed the next sound. Malfoy was still watching his father fall. Ron
then pointed his wand at Harry again.
-O.... the mouth finally formed the last sound required to finish the spell. As the amber thread of
light arced inch by inch through the air, Harry saw Ron moving his lips again.
Fi--ni--te...
The curse struck Malfoy from behind, as his father had done with Ron. He threw his head back
slowly, sinking to the ground as if he were a marionette being carefully lowered to the earth,
except that Harry could see the agony on his face, his features evolving from normal to tortured
bit by bit, as though Harry were seeing a film, frame by frame, of a man being eviscerated.
In--can--
Draco Malfoy’s body hit the ground finally, his mouth open in a silent scream--at least to Harry,
who was still altered, still divorced from his body, existing out of time, apart from the world in
which these languorous creatures lived.
--ta--tem....
Ron finished and pointed Harry’s wand, sending an azure thread of light arcing through the air to
where he was still bound. The vines slowly leapt away from him and, seeing this, he willed
himself to slide back down into his body. He was jolted by suddenly having his hearing back;
the first thing he heard was Hermione’s scream, already in progress, and Draco Malfoy’s
agonized yelling, forming a macabre duet. Both seemed likely to go on for some time; in fact, it
almost immediately began to seem like background noise to him.
Ron was standing very close to him, looking down into his face. “You back?” his best friend
asked simply, leaning in so Harry could hear. Harry nodded, blinking, disoriented. Everything
seemed to be moving at lightening speed now. In a swift, all-encompassing glance, he saw
Lucius Malfoy lying on a carpet of leaves, stunned, and Draco Malfoy writhing in agony on the
ground, while Pettigrew kept his wand trained on him.
Then Harry willed it, and it was so; it was his fastest transfiguration yet. It was so fast he had no
chance to think of the pain. His paws struck the ground, but only for a split second before he
was running to the spot near the fire where Pettigrew stood. He turned, a look of abject terror
blossoming on his features as Harry leapt into the air, preparing to knock the man to the ground,
breaking the curse that would have reduced Draco Malfoy’s brain to pulp if it continued for
much longer.
But when Harry landed, all four of his feet were on the ground, not the wizard’s body; standing
trembling under his stomach was a dung-colored rat with a silver paw, looking up at the
apparent lion standing over him for only a moment before giving a strangled-sounding squeak
and running toward the trees, all four paws moving too fast to be seen.
After a moment’s hesitation, Harry gathered his wits and followed the rat. He had practiced
flying, taking several steps along the ground before leaping into the air, but he had never before
simply run with four legs. He couldn’t have flown in the forest; his wingspan was too great, and
if he flew above the trees, he wouldn’t be able to see the small rodent. Harry let his animal
instincts take him over, his paws moving surely and rhythmically under him, a rolling sensation
like flowing water. He felt his hide rippling with his footfalls, felt his mane flying out behind him.
The trees were mere blurs. Running on four legs was wonderful he quickly decided, but the
thought passed as he strained to keep up with the rat, blending in perfectly with the forest floor,
except for the silver paw which flashed as he ran, giving Harry a sure way to stay on course.
Harry did not know how far or in what direction they’d been running. The rat could corner
faster than him, being much smaller, and he did this often, making up for the fact that his tiny
paws would have been quickly outpaced by Harry’s stride if they’d only gone in a straight line
for long enough. Each time the rat changed direction, Harry did too; it took him longer to adjust,
though, and he was starting to tire. Harry kept his eyes to the ground about twenty feet in front
of him, watching for the flashing silver paw. It took him a while to realize that he was seeing in
the dark, that he could see in the dark. He wondered whether he would run into any of the
fiercer residents of the forest, but then threw out that idea as unworthy of concern; he would be
able to vanquish any creature he came across in his griffin form, he was sure.
As he continued to run, he reveled in the feeling of invincibility running through his veins. I can
do this, he thought. I can get Pettigrew at last, and clear Sirius’ name. The rat changed
course again, and ran into a clearing. Harry’s eyes adjusted just a split second too late to the
brightness in the clearing, from the enormous fire in the middle. He hadn’t noticed it; he’d been
wholly focused on following the rat, who was now running under something brown that looked
oddly like the arch of an enormous foot. He was going into a space that was a mere one foot off
the ground; Harry would not fit in such a space. He started trying to go around the obstacle, to
find where Pettigrew might have to come out on the other side, but suddenly, a great hand
swooped out of nowhere, picking Harry up around the middle while he squirmed and writhed in
its grip.
“’Ere now,” said a booming voice above him. “What ‘ave we ‘ere? A lion? What the ‘ell?”
But Harry didn’t have any time to waste; Pettigrew was getting away, might already be
impossible to find in the legion of trees. Harry opened his mouth in a protesting roar, then
brought his sharp teeth down on the giant’s hand, between thumb and forefinger, which is soft,
sensitive skin even on a giant. The giant roared in pain and flung him off. Harry flew across the
clearing, striking a large tree hard, his head and side aching acutely as he slid to the ground and
promptly changed back to a human, teenage boy with black hair and green eyes. He looked up
at the amazed behemoth for a moment before the darkness overcame him.
* * * * *
He was aware first of the voices. It would be impossible not to notice them; even a person who
had lost his hearing or had never had it would feel the rumbling vibrations coming up through the
ground, through his bones. The sound was hurting his head; he was starting to wish he was deaf,
or maybe he was wishing he were dead, dead rather than a failure, rather than having let Peter
Pettigrew get away again...
He slowly opened his eyes, seeing a crowd of stars in a sapphire sky. He tilted his head to his
left and saw an enormous fire with a makeshift spit constructed of a long branch resting on two
Y-shaped saplings half again as tall as he was. A large animal was roasting on the spit, fat
dripping into the flames, but Harry couldn’t make out what it was without the head and hide. His
first thought was to be disgusted, but his second was that the roasting meat smelled heavenly,
and he felt his stomach move within him in primal, feral need.
He turned his head to his right and saw a familiar face. When she saw that he was awake, her
face was wreathed in smiles and she put a tentative finger on his cheek. It was the size of his leg.
“There yeh are, Harry. I was startin’ ter worry...”
“Fridwulfa!” called another one of the giants. He strode into the firelight and squatted down
next to Harry. “What the ‘ell do yeh think yer doin’? Yeh should have left’im somewhere far
away from the camp! Humans aren’t supposed ter know we’re ‘ere!” The voice was like an
explosion, or a mountain being hurled at another mountain. Harry held his head in pain at the
noise of it.
“Sssssh!” Hagrid’s mother cautioned him. He realized now that she had been speaking (for her)
in a whisper, so as not to deafen him. Harry tried to get up, but the best he could do was to
prop himself on his elbows so he could look around the camp properly. There was a sharp pain
in his ribs on his right side when he did this. He assumed that was from striking the tree when he
was thrown; probably more than one broken rib. He gritted his teeth and looked around the
clearing.
This was a much larger space than the place where he’d been tied up with Ron and Hermione.
He’d been unable to judge its size from the air. The fire alone was the half the size of Hagrid’s
cottage. He wondered whether it was a magical fire, requiring no fuel, or whether, after they’d
let it burn long enough, there would actually be any forest left for them to hide in.
The giant who had come over to Hagrid’s mother seemed bigger than she was, maybe half a
head taller. He was ruddy, with long, unruly dark brown hair, one continuous eyebrow above
his bulbous, warty nose, and glittering dark eyes. The rest of his face was hidden behind a tangle
of beard and mustache that could have hidden a large community of vermin--and perhaps it did.
Harry had to make a great effort not wrinkle his nose at the giant’s smell. He tried to tell himself
that there couldn’t very well be many places where someone so large could bathe, but on the
other hand, Hagrid’s mum wasn’t reeking like that...
“Well,” she said to him in an indignant whisper, “ef you’d keep yer voice down, it would be a
good start! Pro’bly heard you clear over in Hogsmeade! He’s one o’ Rubeus’ friends, and he
needs help.” She drew herself up to her full height, glaring at him, and Harry sincerely hoped
they would both watch where they put their feet, so they wouldn’t crush him. He didn’t feel able
to stand yet. He was aching all over, but he didn’t think it was from being a golden griffin so
much as being hurled against a tree by a giant--the same giant standing before him now.
“All right, all right,” Fridwulfa’s companion grumbled more quietly than before; now he was
merely the volume of a thunderstorm. He had a large, dirty piece of cloth wrapped around his
hand, bright blood showing through it. He waved the hand at Harry.
“Can yeh tell me what the ‘ell ‘appened to the damn lion what bit me ‘and? I looked where I
thought ‘e should be, and there you were, ‘alf dead, and not the good ‘alf.” He squinted at
Harry for a second and then said, as an afterthought. “Name’s Orst.”
Harry nodded at him. “Harry,” he said weakly.
“What?”
“I said, ‘Harry!’” Harry shouted, then started coughing from the effort. Fridwulfa moved to pat
him on the back, but he waved her away; it was bad enough having Hagrid do that, let alone his
mum. It felt like his ribs were pushing directly into his right lung. So she pushed toward him what
looked to Harry like a tub of water--Harry supposed it was supposed to be a drinking cup of
some sort for the giants--and, wincing, he pulled himself to a standing position so he could lean
over it and scoop his hands into the water. He brought his hands to his mouth, handful after
handful. He hadn’t realized how parched he was.
While he drank, Fridwulfa was lecturing Orst again, in her giant-whisper. “Yeh got ter be still ter
hear humans, ye great blockhead! There’s no call ter make’em shout. I din’ have no trouble
hearin’im, I din’.”
Orst sat down by the fire, making the earth shake as he folded his legs economically underneath
him. When he was settled, Harry felt like he could take a breath again. He looked up at
Fridwulfa, still leaning on the edge of the cup of water.
“How long have I been here?” he wanted to know.
Fridwulfa looked up at the stars. “Night’s about ‘alf-spent, I’d say. You were in a bad way.”
He pointed up at Orst’s hand with the bloody cloth. “You want me to fix that?” He was feeling
somewhat responsible. Orst looked at him suspiciously.
“You a doctor or som’ting?”
“No. A wizard. I go to the school.”
Orst looked like he was considering this, and finally he unwrapped his hand and put it down on
the ground near Harry. Harry took Ron’s wand out of his robes and pointed it at the bite marks
he’d left on the giant’s hand. Madam Pomfrey had made sure that everyone who sat with
Neville was proficient in medical binding charms, to prevent him bleeding too much if he hurt
himself. After putting the charm on the giant’s hand, he told Orst, “It won’t bleed any more. But
you’ll still have to keep it clean while it heals.”
“Thanks,” he grumbled at Harry. Harry thought that had something to do with the ‘keep it
clean,’ advice. He looked like he and cleanliness were not exactly on speaking terms. Harry
reached up to run his hand through his hair, his usual nervous habit, but when he did, he felt
above his right ear a bump that made him wince.
“I might have concussion, I suppose,” he said to Fridwulfa. “And I think I have some broken
ribs. I should go to the hospital wing...”
“Now, don’ you worry. I can bind up yer ribs. Ye’ll be back at the school in the mornin’. I’ll
take ye to Rubeus, and he’ll take care o’ ye. Righ’ now ye need rest.” She produced a strip of
ecru cloth, and after struggling with the tiny buttons on Harry’s robes, he took them off himself
and pulled his shirt over his head. There was a purpling bruise on his lower right chest. Hagrid’s
mother wrapped the cloth several times around his ribcage and pulled it tight; Harry gasped at
first, so she loosened it slightly. When it was tight but he could still draw breath (albeit painfully),
he replace his shirt and put his robes back on as well. Despite the proximity of the huge fire,
Harry felt a chill.
He looked up at Fridwulfa’s face, so like Hagrid’s. It was a comforting face, oddly motherly.
Harry couldn’t put his finger on it. He thought of how comfortable it was to be around Ron’s
mother, when she was bustling around the kitchen or sitting by the fireside reading the Daily
Prophet aloud to her husband, or even lecturing the twins or sighing over Bill’s hair. Other
people’s mothers, he thought. I’m always latching onto them...
The aroma of the roasting meat crept into his nostrils again and he breathed it in with a sigh. She
picked up on it immediately. “Hungry?” she asked softly. He looked at the spit and nodded.
“That there won’ be done fer a while. This is all righ’, though.” She picked a bit of meat off of a
carcass that was sitting on a sheet-sized napkin next to her, holding it out to Harry. He sat down
again and reached up to take it from her. The morsel was the size of a small roast chicken to
him, but it smelled savory and warm, and he held it firmly in both hands, ignoring how hot it was.
He was too hungry to care.
Then he remembered, and lowered the meat, swallowing painfully. He tried to make sense of
everything that had happened. Malfoy had said that Ginny was acting, that he wasn’t really
assaulting her, and he’d made Ron choose one of them to torture, and one to kill. But Sandy
had told him that he was the one Ron was going to torture, and he’d been ready, he’d left his
body behind and watched the odd, slow-motion scene play out before him, of Malfoy turning
and stunning his dad as soon as Ron had cursed him, and then Wormtail coming around and
cursing Draco Malfoy, while Ron stopped cursing him and released him from his bonds. He
remembered chasing Wormtail through the woods, watching him run underneath Orst’s foot,
then being picked up by Orst, and then after biting him, being flung against a tree...
He brought the meat up to his mouth again; after blowing on it, he took another bite. It was
gamy, vaguely liver-flavored. Maybe it was something’s liver. He stopped thinking about that,
chewing thoughtfully. Malfoy did it, he realized. He had gotten his dad. He had succeeded.
While he, Harry, sat bruised and possibly concussed in the giants’ camp, knowing that Wormtail
was on his way back to Voldemort to tell him Harry Potter was an Animagus...
Harry Potter is an Animagus.
He’d never thought those words before. Not like that. It was odd. He still didn’t think, I am an
Animagus. And yet, when he saw Wormtail torturing Malfoy, his first instinct was to change to
his Animagus form and chase him, predator and prey, through the primeval forest. And now
Voldemort would know. He looked up at Orst, wanting to curse him, but instead he felt his eyes
fill with tears; he couldn’t have known. He just knew he saw a lion, of all things, come out of
nowhere. He probably hadn’t even seen the rat with the silver paw; a rat would be beneath a
giant’s notice, not even food. Orst probably cleaned things bigger than rats out of his teeth. If he
ever cleaned anything out of his teeth. Harry winced and looked away from the giant.
He took another bite of meat, looking around the camp as he chewed. Three other giants had
come to sit on the other side of the fire. One was whittling a large tree trunk into a tapered
shape for some unknown purpose; another was turning the spit patiently, silently. They were
both men. Another giantess was sitting with her cheek on her hands, staring at the fire listlessly.
They don’t seem especially happy here, Harry thought. He wondered where the others were,
but looking down at the meat in his hands and at the carcass roasting on the spit, he figured they
were probably out hunting. This lot must eat quite a load, he thought.
He only ate about half of what Fridwulfa had given him, and then he leaned over the cup of
water and scooped some more into his mouth. He took a final handful of water, and after he
took off his glasses, he splashed it over his face, then used his robes to dry off and replaced his
glasses. He looked up at Hagrid’s mother.
“Where shall I sleep?”
“C’mere me lad,” she said in a comfortingly rumbly voice. She led him to an animal fur she’d
laid out on the ground; it was grey with white streaks at the edges, and silky soft. When he’d
lain down, she placed another hide with the same coloring on top of him, fur side down, so that
he was sandwiched in softness. He pillowed his head on his arm, trying not to think about
Wormtail getting away, or Ron knowing about him and Hermione. He closed his eyes, thinking
of mothers, remembering his own mother in the Pensieve, tucking him into his cot and singing
him a Welsh lullaby. The warmth of the fire and the furs lulled him into a deep sleep, where his
mother was waiting for him...
* * * * *
Harry awoke to raucous birdsong. He opened his eyes and looked up, seeing a white, cloudcovered
sky above the canopy of trees. He pushed the top fur aside, then sat up, pulling his
knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs. His ribs didn’t hurt as much this
morning. The fire still burned; now something else was roasting on a spit. It looked like a series
of hares skewered like shish kebab, making gamy smells waft through the camp. They must
constantly have something cooking, he thought. The only giant he could see was Fridwulfa, a
huge mound about ten feet from him, flat on her back and breathing deeply. Perhaps the other
giants slept under the trees, deeper in the forest.
He gazed around the clearing, at how everything looked so different in the daylight. He realized
that the only other time he’d slept outdoors was when he’d been with the golden griffin. The
Dursleys had never taken him and Dudley camping; they’d never even taken Dudley camping,
leaving Harry with Mrs. Figg. Aunt Petunia believed firmly that humans became human when
they invented central heating and indoor plumbing and refrigerators and microwaves and
coffeemakers and hairdryers, and if there was someplace in the world where those things didn’t
exist, it was a backwater and a hellhole and she wanted nothing to do with it. She thought
Luddites were hopelessly backwards and right up there with the flat-earth lunatics and the
psychotics who thought the American government had faked the moon walks. Voluntarily
sleeping outdoors, on the ground, cooking over a fire food that had just been killed (meat came
from the butcher) and bathing in a stream was simply beyond the pale.
Bathing in a stream...suddenly, Harry felt like that would be wonderful, but he didn’t even know
where there might be a stream nearby. Perhaps he should wait until he returned to the castle and
take a shower. And he’d have to see Madam Pomfrey, to get his ribs healed first. He checked
his watch; it was only six o’clock. He rose slowly and went to Hagrid’s mother, wondering
what was the best way to wake a giant.
He stood next to her ear, trying to decide what to say, when Orst came into the clearing, a
brace of deer hanging from one hand. He flung the game down and pulled out a knife,
presumably to begin skinning the carcasses.
“Orst!” Harry called, hoping for some help. The giant turned, looking around behind him, as
though he suspected the trees had learned to talk. “Over here, Orst!” he called more loudly.
The giant looked in the right direction now and nodded at him.
“Ah! Harry. Sleep well?”
Harry nodded. “Not too bad. But I really need to get back to my school. Can you wake
Fridwulfa for me?”
He nodded and strode across the clearing, the ground shaking beneath Harry’s feet. He shook
Hagrid’s mother, muttering, “Get up, ye lazy...”
She started to stir, mumbling incoherently. Harry backed up as she put her hands out to support
herself, pushing herself up. When she had rubbed her eyes and managed to open them, she saw
Harry and smiled.
“Well! Good mornin’ then. Sleep well?”
He nodded. “The furs were very soft. I should probably get back to the castle, though. I hoped
you could help me.”
“O’ course, dear lad. Be happy to.” She rose to her full height and bent over, asking demurely,
“Could I pick ye up?”
He nodded, and he sat on her finger, again straddling it like a broomstick. He looked at the
giants’ camp; it seemed forlorn, a sad place to live. And they were here most of the winter, he
remembered. On the other hand, perhaps it was an improvement over the mountains of Ukraine
and Georgia. He watched the camp disappear through the trees; Fridwulfa kept her right hand
with Harry on it against her stomach, and pushed the trees aside with her left hand. It seemed
that they traveled through the forest for a very long time when Harry could finally see the
Hagrid’s hut through the trees.
She set him down carefully. “There ye go, Harry. I can’ go no closer. Got to stay in the forest.
Tell Rubeus I’ll see ‘im later.”
He smiled up at her. “I will. Thank you for everything.”
“Any time,” she said firmly. She started to turn away, then stopped and faced him again.
“Harry? Can I ask ye a question?”
“What is it?”
“Well, when Orst asked ye about the lion, ye never answered. And not too long ago, I was
tellin’ Rubeus that I’d seen a golden griffin flyin’ around above the trees, and that looks like a
lion with wings. And then righ’ after that lion turns up and bites Orst, ye’re lyin’ there, dead to
the world with a nasty bump, as though it was you ‘e threw against the tree, not a lion.”
Harry looked up at her guiltily. He knew her secret. It would only be fair if she knew his. Plus,
she was dropping great hints that she already suspected or knew anyway. He smiled sheepishly.
“That was me. Both times. The griffin you saw flying and the lion that bit Orst. I’m a golden
griffin Animagus, but when I don’t have my wings spread they blend in with my coat and I look
like a lion. But no one’s supposed to know. You can’t tell the other giants, even Orst.”
She nodded and smiled. “I won’t. Don’ worry, me lad. Per’aps I’ll see ye soon.” With another
fond look and a smile, she turned and pushed the trees out of the way again, disappearing back
into the forest. Harry turned toward Hagrid’s cabin and soon had reached the edge of the trees.
He went to Hagrid’s back door, knocking lightly. He checked his watch; it was seven now. It
had taken almost an hour for Fridwulfa to get him here, and that was with the huge paces she
could take. The giants’ camp must be very, very deep in the forest, he thought. He had no way
of judging this when he was in the air; flying gave him a completely different perspective on
distances.
He heard Hagrid moving around in his house, then heard the front door opening. Hagrid had
gone to the wrong door. He knocked again on the back door. More shuffling. He opened the
right door this time, a shocked expression appearing on his face.
“Harry! What’re yeh doing here? Are yeh all right?”
Harry nodded, staggering into the room, then sitting down heavily in a chair. “Need to go to the
hospital wing. Is everyone else all right?”
Hagrid harumphed. “I don’ know ever’thin’ that’s goin’ on, but it’s mighty queer. Dumbledore
can tell yeh more than I can. He an’ Moody got back late las’ night.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll see him soon, I’m sure. Can you--can you help me get to the hospital
wing?”
Hagrid practically carried him to Madam Pomfrey, who clucked her tongue over the bump
above his right ear, wanting to know how he’d gotten it.
“Um, I’d rather not say. I need to see the headmaster. And I think I broke some ribs.”
Now she harumphed. “He’s finally back from London, and not before time...”
Harry furrowed his brow. She was being odd. Then he remembered that just the previous
afternoon, he had carried Ginny into the infirmary, apparently in shock from being assaulted by
Malfoy. Was Ginny really in on it all? “It” was clearly not the recruitment of Harry, not after
what he’d seen in the forest. “It” was getting Lucius Malfoy put away. Harry laid back on the
bed, wondering what the full story was.
Then he noticed that there were curtains pulled around three other beds in the infirmary. After
Madam Pomfrey had put a healing salve on his ribs and a clean bandage (he also had refused to
tell her where he’d gotten the soiled-looking rough cloth that had been binding his ribs), she left
the room. He went to the first bed, pulling the curtain open slightly. Ron was there, resting on his
back, snoring away in a white hospital smock, his feet hanging over the end of the bed. He
looked peaceful and healthy and safe and Harry closed the curtain again, thankful that he
seemed to be all right after Malfoy’s dad put the Cruciatus Curse on him. He went to the next
bed and opened that curtain a small amount. Hermione was curled up on her side; her eyes
opened as soon as he parted the curtains, and a smile spread across her face. He sat on the
edge of her bed, looking down at her, wondering what they would do next, how to go on after
the revelations of the night before. She was under the influence of that potion for six months.
She pulled herself to a sitting position, yawning and stretching, her hospital smock moving in
various interesting directions as she did this, making Harry catch his breath. She saw his eyes
and smiled at him, putting her arms around him, her head on his bare shoulder. He tentatively
put his arms around her, kissed the top of her head. They would have to take it a step at a time,
he decided.
Then he heard the curtain to the bed next to Hermione’s being opened, and there was the face
of Draco Malfoy above yet another hospital smock, looking at them embracing, a strange sort
of hunger behind his eyes. He shook himself, as if forcing himself to think about something else,
and said by way of greeting, “So, Potter. Decided to join us in hospital. All done running around
the forest as a lion, I see. Damn! Trust you to do something like become an illegal Animagus.
You get away with everything.”
“I’m not illegal. And I’m not a lion.”
“What? You’re sure as hell not registered. And I think I know a lion when I see one.”
“I have permission from the Ministry to wait until after I graduate to register. McGonagall
trained me, starting last fall. And a lion can’t fly.”
“Fly? What do you mean, fly?”
“I’m a golden griffin Animagus.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again, shaking his head. “Unbelievable...” he muttered.
“And,” Harry continued, “you’re not to tell anyone about it. I was only trying to get Wormtail.”
Hermione pulled back from him and looked at his face. “Did you?”
He shook his head sadly. “No. He went into the gi--” He looked at Malfoy. “Tell you later.”
Malfoy looked at Harry, then Hermione. “What? Oh, come on, you can trust me.” They looked
at him skeptically. “You can! Didn’t I get my dad? Didn’t I say I would?”
Harry swallowed. “You didn’t say how you were going to do it. Is--is Ginny all right?” He was
almost afraid to ask, holding Hermione in his arms. She nodded.
“Yes. Turns out it was an act. And after she determined that the four of us had gone to the
forest, she asked Madam Pomfrey to get Snape to come here to the infirmary, and she
explained to him what the plan was, and apologized for her part in it, since--well, when that
happens for real, girls that are really in trouble that way need for people to take them seriously.
But she said it was her idea; she knew that Ron would go crazy, and it would feed into the plan.
Snape and McGonagall flew to the forest on broomsticks, and they took enough extras for us to
ride back Snape brought Malfoy’s dad back. We had to fly way up above the trees...I think I
liked the--other--flying better.”
“So Ginny’s not here?”
“She’s back up in Gryffindor Tower. The Weasleys have stayed over. Oh, and we’ve all been
given the day off from classes, if we like. I’m going though; please say you are too? I’m so glad
you’re back. I was terribly worried...”
She pulled his face down to hers and Harry clutched her to him, ignoring a twinge in his ribs,
drinking her in. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and saw that Draco Malfoy was
watching them with a smirk on his face.
“Um, do you mind, Malfoy?”
“Yeah, I mind. I mind that you think you can watch me and Ginny snogging, but I can’t watch
you two...”
“Malfoy, you said some--some bloody awful things last night. In fact, even if you were only
acting like a total sodding bastard, you were doing a far-too-good job. I’m not really feeling
like being charitable toward you just now.”
“I said those things to Granger. It was part of my performance. And I apologized last night,
after we got back, didn’t I, Granger? Except for one thing--sorry I made you spew, Granger.”
“Well,” Hermione said sweetly, “you can’t do much about your face.”
“Ha ha,” was Malfoy’s rejoinder.
“So,” Harry said, trying to forget the things Malfoy had said, since it seemed Hermione had
gotten past it. “It really worked? Your dad’s going to Azkaban?”
“He’s still stunned, down in the dungeons. Ministry officials are coming later to get him. He’ll be
charged with multiple counts of trying to recruit people to be dark wizards, conspiracy to
commit murder for ordering the hits on recruits’ families, and putting the Cruciatus Curse on
Weasley.”
A sound behind him made Harry jump. It was Ron, coming around the bed. He stood there
awkwardly, his hand on the mattress, looking at Harry and Hermione. His hospital smock was
rather short, showing his pale, freckly, knobby knees. Harry pulled back from Hermione, sitting
on the edge of the bed. He wanted to stand up and give his best friend a great hug, to show
how glad he was that Ron was all right, but he looked in Ron’s eyes and saw the hurt and
betrayal there, and knew that it wasn’t time yet. He was also suddenly self-conscious about
having nothing on from the waist up, just his basilisk amulet, the bandages around his ribs, and,
on his left arm, Sandy.
“Do you know how hard it is to sleep with you lot sitting over here yammering?”
Malfoy laughed. “I didn’t think anything could wake you. Ginny says you sleep straight through
all the noise that ghoul makes at your house.”
Ron scowled. “I’m not sure I believe you about her...”
“I swear I have never done anything more than kiss her,” Malfoy said, looking sideways at
Harry. Well, Harry thought, remembering Malfoy’s wandering hands on Ginny’s birthday; It
wasn’t for lack of trying. “Do you want to see if a unicorn will go up to her? Do you?”
“All right, all right. Fine. You were just trying to get me wound up yesterday, I get that. What if
I’d decided to kill you? Where would you be then?”
“Well, then I’d probably be at the ministry explaining why I’d killed you in self-defense,” he
drawled, clearly not lacking in self-confidence after the previous day’s events. Ron swayed
slightly, and Malfoy got up and pulled him over to sit on his bed. “Stupid git! Sit down! Having
the Cruciatus Curse put on you is no laughing matter. You don’t see me poncing around the
room, and I’ve gone through it before.” Harry tried not to smile; Malfoy’s similarity to Snape
was uncanny. Harry remembered Snape telling him to sit when he had come to his office after
throwing off the pain of the Hara Kiri. That’s what chairs are for, Potter.
The four of them sat in silence now, looking tentatively back and forth at each other. It reminded
Harry strangely of the previous evening in the forest, Malfoy and Ron on one side, he and
Hermione on the other. Suddenly Malfoy broke the silence. He looked at Harry, then Ron,
shaking his head.
“I just cannot believe that the two of you have sex lives and I don’t.”
Ron smiled at him and suggested, “You could get a new girlfriend...”
Malfoy gave him a challenging look. “I could. I could, for instance, take your girlfriend...or
Potter’s...”
At that Hermione burst out laughing and fell back on the bed; she started to pound the mattress,
helpless in the grip of the laughter. Her hospital smock had ridden up a little when she did this.
Malfoy tilted his head to one side.
“When you do that, Granger, I can see your knickers...”
“Shut up!” Harry and Ron said simultaneously, while Hermione abruptly stopped laughing and
sat up, pulling her Hogwarts robes off the chair beside her bed and draping them over her lap.
So much for Malfoy only acting like a sodding bastard, Harry thought. While she was clearing
her throat and starting to return to a peach color from her previous deep red, something else
occurred to Harry.
“Ron--what exactly did Malfoy say to you, before you were untied? How did he convince you
to go along with his plan, just like that?”
Ron grimaced and looked at Malfoy for a moment, then back at Harry and Hermione. “He told
me that he’d never--slept with Ginny, he was only trying to get his dad put away--I don’t even
remember it all now--”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I can tell you exactly what I said. I had to practice it enough ahead of
time, and that was after writing something like ten drafts of it. I needed to make sure I
communicated all of the necessary details as quickly as possible. My exact words were, ‘Put
the Cruciatus Curse on Potter. He can take it, he won’t feel any pain. When you do, I will stun
my dad and Wormtail. Take the curse off Potter and untie him and Granger. I never touched
your sister; she’s helping me put my dad in Azkaban.’”
Hermione snorted. “That took ten drafts?”
“Hey, I got my point across.”
She looked at Ron. “So those things you said--” she said softly.
Ron looked uncomfortable. “Just trying to make it look good. Didn’t want Malfoy’s dad to
suspect anything.” But Harry remembered the way he’d spoken to her, the edge to his voice.
There was a grain of truth to it. Those things didn’t just come out of Ron’s head at that moment;
they’d been festering.
“But,” Hermione said, looking perplexed. “You didn’t stun Wormtail.”
Malfoy grimaced. “Don’t remind me. He was too damn fast for me. But what I want to know,
Potter, is why can you do that pain-blocking stuff, and I can’t? And it looked like Weasley
couldn’t, either.”
Harry didn’t answer the question. He still hadn’t gotten an answer about that himself, from
Snape, and he also hadn’t dared to ask Dumbledore. But it didn’t matter, because Ron was
speaking instead. “I could do it a little in Moody’s class,” Ron told him. “But that was just the
Passus Curse. And thanks for telling me your dad was going to do that. I really appreciate it.”
“No need to get sarcastic, Weasley. I wasn’t any better off than you. And I was hoping that
you’d start the curse on Potter before that. You took so damn long...”
“Listen, just because you don’t think twice about putting your dad in Azkaban, doesn’t mean I
don’t think twice about putting a curse like that on my best friend, no matter how likely it is that
he can take it!”
Malfoy looked at Ron in silent fury, and Harry wasn’t completely certain that they weren’t going
to start rolling around on the floor again throwing punches. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever
had to do,” he said softly to Ron. “If you think I did that without any thought...” He shook his
head. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. If you want to know why I planned this, why I
wanted to do it for years, just ask your sister. Now get off my damn bed.”
“Malfoy...” Hermione started. She clearly was over being ogled by him. “You know what the
real reason is. Why you did it now, why you finally did what you’d only been thinking about for
years...”
Malfoy looked at her; Harry was startled by the exposed expression on his face, how totally
without artifice he was suddenly. He finally looked away from her, staring at his hands. “Ginny,”
he said simply. Ron looked at him for a second, then away.
“Did someone say my name?” Ginny came around Hermione’s bed, smiling at Malfoy and Ron.
“Look at the two of you! Sitting next to each other! Not fighting!” She sat down between them,
and took their hands in hers. She looked back and forth between the two of them. “Well? Are
you actually trying to get along?”
Ron and Malfoy glanced at each other behind her head. She turned and looked at Ron, while
Malfoy stuck his tongue out at Ron and made a rude face. Ginny turned to look at Malfoy and
he instantly converted his features into a beatific smile, while Ron returned Malfoy’s rudeness
with the middle finger of his left hand, out of Ginny’s range of vision.
Harry tried to stifle a laugh, and suddenly Ginny jerked her head up, dropping Malfoy’s and
Ron’s hands. “Harry!” she cried in surprise, standing. “You’re back!” She pulled on his hand,
and then he was standing and embracing her, his arms across her back, his face in her hair, so
glad not to be comforting her after being attacked, to learn that she was never in danger, that
she wouldn’t be traumatized. He felt her fingers pressed against the bare skin of his back, above
the bandages, and ignored the pain in his ribs as unimportant. Then he lifted his head and saw
Malfoy and Ron looking at him; Malfoy’s face looked stormy and Ron’s slightly disgruntled and
intrigued all at once. Harry released her and stepped back, sitting back down next to Hermione.
He glanced at her for a moment; she was frowning, but she reached for his hand and laced her
fingers through his, the frown fading from her face as she leaned her head on his shoulder again.
Ginny was just smiling happily still, and sat down between Ron and Malfoy again. Harry
remembered the murderous thoughts he’d had while tied to the tree in the clearing, before
Malfoy’s plan had become clear. He remembered Malfoy talking about his seducing her, and
her seducing him. He had believed it; now he wondered how he could have done that. He
looked at her, recalling that Professor Sprout had said that she was a good girl, she wouldn’t be
needing any potion made from spleenwort. She looked as fresh-faced as ever, and he now also
remembered her telling Malfoy that she wasn’t on some schedule, “like a bloody train.” She
saw him looking at her and smiled back, a simple, friendly smile. But something was missing; he
realized that she used to smile at him more tentatively, with a wistful hopefulness behind her
eyes. Now that she had Malfoy, he realized, that was gone. Instead, when she smiled at Draco
Malfoy, there was a serene happiness that made her glow as if lit from within; he returned her
smile with a clear hunger in his gaze, a wistfulness of its own kind, but also a clear affection. For
the first time, seeing that, Harry decided that he probably meant it when he said that he would
never hurt Ginny. He was also clearly not interested in changing girlfriends.
“So,” she said to Harry, still smiling sunnily. “Draco told me--you turned into a lion and went
after Wormtail! Did you catch him?”
So Harry had to explain again that he was a golden griffin Animagus and that he hadn’t caught
Wormtail, although once again, he didn’t mention the giants. The four of them were suddenly full
of questions about the difficulty of Animagus training, and didn’t hear the door to the infirmary
opening and closing, nor the footsteps approaching them.
“Ahem!” came a familiar voice. It sounded remarkably like Aberforth, but Harry wasn’t at all
surprised to look up and find that it was the headmaster. They stopped talking suddenly, in the
middles of sentences. Dumbledore looked at them strangely seriously.
“Harry! I didn’t know you had returned. We were all very worried. You spent the night in the
forest?”
“Yes, sir. I--I’ll tell you about that later, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, yes. I’m sure that will be interesting. But at the moment, you might want to get your
robes...”
Harry leapt to his feet, crossing the infirmary quickly. Dumbledore waiting for him to button his
robes and sit next to Hermione again.
“I have some news for our two suspended students,” he said sternly. Malfoy and Ron jerked
their heads up, looking alarmed. “Thought I’d forgotten about that, did you?” Then a slow smile
spread across his face. “The news is that you aren’t suspended. Last night you were all very
informative about your various parts in the scheme to apprehend Lucius Malfoy. But you did all
break a number of school rules along the way, and I’m afraid points will have to be deducted
from your houses as a result...”
Their faces fell; Harry in particular thought how unfair it was that four of them were from
Gryffindor. Their house would suffer the most. He thought of first year, when he and Hermione
had been responsible for losing Gryffindor quite a lot of points when they were caught leaving
the Astronomy tower after helping smuggle Norbert to safety. He wondered what kind of
reception they would get in Gryffindor Tower when the news of their losing points for the house
spread.
“First: Draco Malfoy. Seventy-five points from Slytherin for charming the doorway to the
Charms classroom. Pranks are one thing; Professor Snape felt that leaving us without a Charms
instructor for forty days, and leaving Ravenclaw without a head-of-house and a Seeker for their
Quidditch team all because you did not do proper research may even be grounds for making
you wait until next year to take your Charms O.W.L.s. However, Professor Flitwick talked
Professor Snape out of that and insists he wants to let you sit for your tests this year, so
consider yourself lucky. Another seventy-five points from Slytherin for staging that appalling little
drama in the Potions dungeon. I never want to hear of such a charade again.”
His eyes bore into Malfoy who swallowed and looked properly admonished, nodding and
saying softly, “Yes, sir.”
Now he turned to Ginny. “Virginia Weasley: Fifty points from Gryffindor for your part in the
Potions dungeon play. I believe Professor McGonagall already gave you quite an earful about
that last night, so I will say no more at this time. Suffice to say I am very disappointed in you.”
Ginny drew her lips into a line and nodded. Harry wondered what McGonagall had said; she
could really go off when something touched a nerve with her, as this obviously had. She’d been
quite upset when she thought Malfoy had attacked Ginny. He didn’t imagine she would
appreciate discovering how her emotions had been manipulated.
“Ronald Weasley.” He looked up at the headmaster with that strangely mature expression
Harry was still getting used to. Madam Pomfrey had healed all of his wounds, but he had some
bruises on his cheekbones and jaw that wouldn’t fade immediately. “Fifty points from
Gryffindor for that fight in the Potions Dungeon. I understand you truly thought your sister in
danger, but there were better ways to handle it. Suspension is the usual course of action in cases
like this, but considering the other events of yesterday and the reason for you being provoked
into the fight, I think I will leave the penalty at fifty points.”
Ron nodded grimly at him. “Thank you, sir.”
“Hermione Granger and Harry Potter!” Harry jerked his head up in surprise. Had he heard
about their relationship? Were they going to be removed from the ranks of the prefects?
“Twenty-five points each from Gryffindor for flying off to the Forbidden Forest--does no one
remember the name of that place?--without telling anyone why or asking for help. What were
you thinking?” But he didn’t pause for an answer. He suddenly stopped looking grim and smiled
as though he hadn’t just deducted one-hundred and fifty points from each of their houses. Harry
grimaced; when they got back to Gryffindor Tower, their names were going to be mud. And
Malfoy would have to contend with the Slytherins alone. He didn’t envy him--for many reasons.
Harry looked at Dumbledore now, confused by how cheerful he looked. He clapped his hands
together and looked round at them all. “There. We’ve got the unpleasantness out of the way.
Now for the good.” He looked at Malfoy again. “Draco Malfoy. For concocting a truly
Slytherin-like plan to put a Death Eater away who also happens to be your own father, threehundred
points for your house.” Malfoy got a very cocky grin on his face and looked at Harry
very smugly. Harry looked away.
“Virginia Weasley, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger: Fifty points each for Gryffindor for
helping to bag Lucius Malfoy. And Harry Potter: One-hundred fifty points for Gryffindor for the
excellent job overcoming, er, painful curses, the fine job you’ve done in your work to become
an Animagus--which no one here will discuss with anyone, or I start throwing memory charms
around--and,” he paused and looked at Ginny again, “for helping Ginny when you thought she
was in great need, rather than fighting.”
He smiled at them all. “And finally, I decided that you all needed to have another bit of
recognition to strengthen you in the times to come, so I just came up with this last night, and I
hope you like it. I’m very fond of it myself, but--well, here it is.”
He held up a small gold-colored brooch with the letters OP in the middle, flanked by wings with
red enamel over the gold metal, and what seemed to be flames coming up from the letters, also
with enamel, but rather than being a single color, the flames actually looked like flames, moving
and changing every second, white and yellow and red and orange and sometimes even a little
purplish-blue. They all stared dumbly at the headmaster, unsure what to make of this. He sighed
and held it out to Ron, then took others out of his pockets and distributed them round to the rest
of them.
“It’s the Order of the Phoenix. Now, I know it’s not the Order of Merlin, but I really couldn’t
nominate the five of you for that--you broke too many rules along the way.” His eyes twinkled
at them. “So I made up my own Order of the Phoenix, to recognize the work of people who
have dedicated themselves to bringing dark wizards to justice. I know that to young people, an
award like this is a piddling thing. It’s not hundreds of galleons or a chance to meet your favorite
Quidditch player, I’ll grant you that. But it’s my way of saying thank you, that I think we’re
fighting on the same side and that I trust you to do the right thing. Oh, and I’m also having some
house elves work on some lovely parchments that can be framed and hung on the wall. Paid
house elves,” he said pointedly, looking at Hermione.
He smiled round at them all, even Malfoy, Harry noticed, who actually seemed to have some
color in his face after Dumbledore’s speech.
“You are the first members of the Order of the Phoenix. I am very proud of you all. I know that
this has been difficult for you, but there is one more difficult thing that you must do soon.” He
looked at each of them in turn. “There will be a trial at the Ministry of Magic. You will probably
be called to be witnesses. I will accompany you to the Ministry myself for the trial. I will try to
get the procedure streamlined down to one day, to avoid you missing a great deal of school,
since four of you have the O.W.L.s coming up. You may not all have to testify, but I’m certain
that you will, Draco. That will be difficult, testifying against your own father in court.” He looked
sympathetically toward Malfoy, who already looked uncomfortable. Perhaps, thought Harry, he
hadn’t thought about this part. Testifying against your father. He tried to imagine it, and
couldn’t.
“And you will also likely testify, Ron, since you were on the receiving end of the Cruciatus
Curse that is going to be the basis for his life-sentence.” Ron swallowed, looking down at his
OP. Dumbledore slapped his hands together. “Well! I must be going; the ministry is sending
someone to collect Mr. Malfoy from the dungeons. Go enjoy your breakfast!” he said cheerily,
as though he hadn’t just been discussing Malfoy’s dad going on trial and unforgivable curses.
After the door to the infirmary closed, Harry noticed that Ron had a dreadful panicked look on
his face.
“Are you okay, Ron?”
He shook his head, looking worse by the second. “Harry; I put the Cruciatus Curse on you.
And Dumbledore knows about it too; we told him last night. If they ask him or any of us about
that--I’ll be spending the rest of my life in Azkaban.” His voice had dwindled to a whisper at the
end. He swallowed and looked terrified and alone, suddenly separate from the rest of them,
who had plenty to worry about, but going to Azkaban wasn’t one of those worries.
Suddenly Malfoy pushed at Ron with his left hand, wrapping it around Ginny’s shoulder
afterward. “Hey, Weasley. Are you sure you put the Cruciatus on Potter? I mean, I personally
don’t think you could. You probably couldn’t give a hemophiliac a nosebleed. Did you feel any
pain, Potter? When Weasley tried to curse you?”
Harry furrowed his brow, wondering what Malfoy was on about; then he caught on and smiled.
“Pain? No pain at all. Not a bit. You say you put the Cruciatus Curse on me?” He smiled at
Ron, who then started smiling too. “I mean,” he went on, “I think I’d know if someone put the
Cruciatus Curse on me. I’ve felt it before. I can testify to that in court.” Then he had another
thought. He drew Ron’s wand out of his robes, where it had been all night. “And isn’t this your
wand, Ron? If the ministry is curious about whether it’s been used for the Cruciatus Curse,
there’s a simple test they can do...”
“My wand!” He took it from Harry. By now, Ron was absolutely grinning at Harry and almost
looking like he was going to start laughing. Then he did laugh, throwing his head back and then
sighing with relief afterward. Harry felt a happiness leap up in him at seeing Ron smile back like
that. There would be a time of healing, he knew, but he somehow felt that they could in fact go
on now.
Ginny put her arm through Malfoy’s and her head on his shoulder. “She’s almost got you
tamed, hasn’t she, Malfoy?” Hermione said, looking at them.
Malfoy looked down at Ginny and said softly, “Mais, si tu m’apprivoises, nous aurons
besoin l’un de l’autre. ” She looked like she might very well melt.
Ron reached behind Ginny and whapped! Malfoy on the back of his head. “Hey! Stop
speaking French to my sister!”
“But if you tame me, we shall need each other, ” Hermione translated in a quiet voice. “It’s
from The Little Prince. ”
“Wasn’t he a Parselmouth?” Malfoy asked her, not tearing his gaze away from Ginny’s.
“Who?”
“The Little Prince.”
“Oh, that’s right! He was talking to that snake in the desert. But he looked more like you,
Malfoy, than Harry.” She smiled at Harry. Then a hissing was heard from the vicinity of Harry’s
left arm. “What did she say?”
“’Who is this Little Prince?’” he told her. He hissed back at Sandy. “I told her never mind.”
Hermione laughed. “Maybe I’ll get used to that eventually...But I don’t know whether I gave
the best translation of that line you said, Malfoy. ‘Apprivoiser’ can also mean ‘to domesticate.’
Are you going to domesticate him, Ginny?” she laughed. Ginny turned her head and smiled,
breaking the bond between her eyes and Malfoy’s.
“Won’t someone have to domesticate me first?” She looked at Malfoy again, losing her smile
when she saw how serious his face looked. He leaned close to her again and spoke softly.
“Tu seras pour moi unique au monde. Je serai pour toi unique au monde. ”
“You shall be for me unique in all the world. I shall be for you unique in all the world, ”
Hermione whispered, looking at Harry. He swallowed, wishing no one else were around just
now.
Ron hit Malfoy on the back of the head again. “I said stop that! And you,” he said to Hermione.
“Stop translating for him!”
They all broke up into laughter, even Ron. Ginny kissed Malfoy on the cheek and left the
infirmary, and Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek before closing her curtains and preparing to
dress for breakfast. Harry rose and followed Ron to his hospital bed, stopping him with his hand
on his arm. Ron looked at him expectantly, but what he was expecting, Harry didn’t know.
“Ron,” he said softly. “Are we all right?”
Ron looked at him for what seemed a long time. “No. And yes. Not yet. But--eventually. I
think we will be.” He tried to smile at Harry, and Harry smiled feebly back. It wasn’t everything
he’d hoped for, but it was enough for now.
* * * * *
After breakfast, Ron and Ginny and the twins bade their parents goodbye. Mrs. Weasley did
not hug Harry though, or talk to him or Hermione. He felt strange, watching her leave the Great
Hall with her husband. Did she hate him now? he wondered. Had Ron told her about him and
Hermione? He didn’t know what to think. Her being upset with him was very nearly as bad as
Ron. He looked at Hermione, sitting next to him. She had noticed Mrs. Weasley’s behavior as
well. She didn’t look happy about it either. He remembered when Ron’s mother had snubbed
Hermione after the Witch Weekly article about her toying with Harry’s and Krum’s feelings. He
dreaded finding out what she thought of Hermione now, if Ron had told her about their physical
relationship.
On the other hand, he thought, she could be upset with them about Malfoy. They had both
known. And he had vouched for Malfoy before the Weasleys, all of them, and they had looked
at him suspiciously, as though perhaps he should go off and be in Slytherin house now with the
other snakes-in-the-grass. Regaining Ron’s trust would be difficult, he knew. But he didn’t just
have to work on Ron; all of the Weasleys now regarded him differently, and he felt awful about
that. He’d always felt so at home with them, almost like they had adopted him, and now,
remembering the way Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had looked at him, as though he’d mortally
wounded them by not revealing Ginny’s relationship with Malfoy, was almost more than he
could bear.
Harry pulled Ron and Ginny aside before they left the hall to go to classes, asking them whether
they’d told anyone about him and Hermione. They looked at each other, brows furrowed, then
at Harry.
“You mean you’re still not going to tell people?”
“Well--we’re going to come clean about being a couple. But--does everyone need to know
about all of the details?”
Ron smirked. “You mean like--McGonagall?”
Harry widened his eyes and hit his head. “McGonagall! I hadn’t even thought of her! She
doesn’t know, does she?”
Ron and Ginny looked at each other. Harry’s heart sank. Then Ron laughed. “You should see
your face, Harry! No McGonagall only knows you’re a couple. Not that you’ve been--”
Coupling, thought Harry.
“--you know,” Ron finished lamely, his ears turning red. Harry nodded.
They went to class. Harry was a bit disoriented and started going out the front door to Hagrid’s,
but Hermione dragged him to the stairs to the Potions dungeon. For a moment he’d forgotten
what day it was. Harry hesitated before entering; the last time he’d been here, he’d seen Ginny
and Draco Malfoy, and Ron...
Somehow, he got through the class. They weren’t covering anything new; Snape was snidely
going over material they would need to know for the O.W.L.s, hinting broadly that none of
them would get O.W.L.s in Potions because they were hopelessly incompetent and stupid.
Oddly, the only person he didn’t seem to look at when hurling insults around was Neville, who
was working next to Malfoy again. Snape actually took points from his own house because of
Crabbe and Goyle repeatedly poking Malfoy when they thought Snape’s back was turned. The
other Slytherins weren’t any kinder to him. Harry hoped Malfoy would hex them when he got
the chance. He wondered how he was going to be able to continue living in Slytherin.
Harry was jolted when, at the end of class, Snape called out to him, “Potter! I need a word
with you; Dueling Club business.” Harry sent Hermione along ahead of him. Ron and Parvati
and the others had already left. Harry shouldered his bag and followed Snape into his office; the
next class wouldn’t be arriving for a few minutes. Snape closed the door and nodded at the
chair near the fireplace. Harry sat down and looked at him expectantly. When Sirius’ head
appeared in the fireplace, Harry jumped.
“Harry! I didn’t mean to startle you. Severus contacted me last night and told me everything he
knew. I won’t ask for a complete recap now--that can wait. I just wanted to see you, make
sure you’re all right.”
Harry nodded at him. “As well as can be expected...At least I’m not in too much trouble for
staying in the forest all night...You know about--who’s in the forest, right?”
“Yes, Severus told me.”
“Well, I was in the giants’ camp. Hagrid’s mum took care of me. And this morning, Madam
Pomfrey decided that this nasty lump--” he touched the tender spot above his ear “--will go
away, and I don’t have concussion. And I had some broken ribs, but she took care of that.
They’re already feeling much better. So I guess everything’s okay. Except--”
“What?”
Harry hesitated. When he finally spoke, he couldn’t keep the tears out of his voice. “I’m sorry,
Sirius. I tried to catch him. I really tried. I kept thinking, if I can just catch Wormtail, you can be
cleared...”
Sirius smiled ruefully. “Harry, I don’t want you losing sleep over that. You did what you could,
and Lucius Malfoy will be going to Azkaban, if the trial goes as expected. You’ll have to go,
won’t you?” Harry nodded. “Well, it will be a quite an experience, I daresay. I wish I could go
with you, but for obvious reasons...”
“I wish you could too.” Harry swallowed. He thought he would lose it if he had to go on talking
to his godfather much longer. “Listen, Sirius, I’d better go. I’ll talk to you again soon.”
Sirius smiled warmly. “Goodbye Harry. I’m very proud of you. Don’t forget that.”
His face disappeared. Harry turned to Snape. “Thank you for that. It’s nice to be able to talk to
him more often...” he trailed off, looking at the strange expression on Snape’s face. He actually
seemed to be somewhat proud of Harry himself, and for once not hiding it. Harry felt his chest
hitch; without knowing it, maybe Snape’s approval was something he’d been craving more than
he knew. Perhaps because he knew it would never, could never be lightly bestowed. Snape
looked away now, as though he just realized that he was not hiding his thoughts well enough.
“Potter. I meant what I said about having Dueling Club business to discuss with you. We will be
doing an end-of-term demonstration for the school after exams, while the students are waiting
for their grades. We will begin preparing for the demonstration during club meetings on
Sundays. Understood?”
Harry nodded. He didn’t need Snape to say the things Dumbledore and Sirius had said. Some
small gestures were enough. He smiled at the Potions master and shouldered his bag again.
“Understood.” He turned and left, his heart lighter than it had felt for some time. Somehow, he
had the feeling that everything was going to be all right.
* * * * *
After he was done eating lunch, Harry looked up to see Dumbledore standing next to him.
“Harry,” he said briefly. “A word.”
Harry nodded and rose, following the headmaster up out of the hall, up the stairs, up and up,
finally arriving in the study at the top of the moving spiral stairs, after Dumbledore gave the
gargoyle the password. (“Custard rolls”)
Harry sat in a chair facing the desk and Dumbledore, rather than sitting behind his desk, sat in
another chair next to him. He peered at Harry, as though trying to tell whether there was a
difference in him compared to the last time he’d seen him. Harry started to squirm from being so
scrutinized.
“Would you like to give me the story of what happened last night, from your perspective?”
Harry looked at him levelly. How much had the others told him? Did he know about him and
Hermione? But the
