AN: Short chapter this time. Kind of a nothing chapter really - I promise the next will be more interesting. Still, I'd really appreciate reviews. I've no idea how this reads to other people, so please, let me know what you think.

Louise


Louis Bancroft gazed at the scene before him, sheathed his wand and, relaxing his aching muscles, turned to the Headmaster, raised an eyebrow and remarked with a strange sort of satisfaction, "Well, that was interesting".

The Headmaster nodded absently at his defence professor's remark, his attention on the two unconscious men being checked over by their almost unconscious companions. He murmured an incantation and a silvery jet of light left his wand and headed out through the walls, presumably towards the hospital wing and Madame Pomphrey. This done, he stepped out from behind the table and moved down towards the strangers, directing a half-serious look of disapproval in Louis' direction.

"You, my friend, are enjoying this far too much."

Louis didn't even attempt to look apologetic, as he followed. "I'm not the only one, Headmaster. Don't deny it."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly for a second before fixing in genuine concern on the fatigued figures in front of him.

__________

Having satisfied herself that her friends were in no immediate danger and had, more than anything else, simply succumbed to exhaustion, Hermione struggled to her feet and faced the Headmaster. The murmuring that had risen to a crescendo when Harry and Draco had collapsed was rising again, layer upon layer, as the natural curiosity of the surrounding students slowly overwhelmed their apprehension. The swell of noise threatened to engulf Hermione as she swayed on her feet, its every decibel bringing this impossible reality home and quite clearly stating that she could not give into her fatigue yet. Not even with Ron ready to catch her, knowing that he would do everything in his power to protect them all.

Not here, not yet.

"Perhaps we could move to the hospital wing, Professor?" Looking down at herself, she laughed shakily. "We're hardly in the condition to continue this here."

"I quite agree, young lady. I've already alerted our medi-witch. May I?" Dumbledore gestured to Harry and Draco's bodies with his wand, obviously meaning to levitate them but unwilling – prudently, Louis, thought, taking note of the wary eyes of the redhead – to do so without permission.

Hermione looked like she wanted to object, but nodded her head shortly.

"You may. I'm not sure we'd be able to keep them steady," she said, gesturing to herself and Ron.

"Speak for yourself," he shot back, but Louis could see the weariness in his eyes and the trembling in his limbs.

Dumbledore shot a glance at Professor McGonagall, silently asking her to take care of the increasingly excited students, before turning to the prone bodies before him.

"Mobilicorpus," he muttered and briskly followed the bodies out of the great hall, floating them before him as if they were nothing more than rag dolls, belying the blood that dripped sporadically from their clothes and, one would assume, their wounds. Louis turned a critical eye on the other two as they fell in behind the strange procession, noting the ever so slight jerkiness in Ron's movements and the faint glaze dulling Hermione's eyes.

"Can you make it?" He asked bluntly.

They both bristled at the question and he noticed that they were far more nervous around him than they had been around Dumbledore. Guess there isn't one of me wherever they come from, he thought to himself wryly. Or you're not on good terms, the more cynical side of his brain interjected.

"Yes," snapped Ron, placing himself so he was between the defence professor and Hermione and making sure neither of them had their backs to Louis.

Louis simply raised an eyebrow, observing this and letting it go without comment. He too, made sure the strangers didn't have the advantage of being behind him. Interested he might be, buoyed by the broken monotony, but he wasn't about to translate that excitement into stupidity.

All in all, it was a good thing Hogwarts corridors were so wide.

They continued in silence for a moment, before Hermione let out a small gasp, stiffening momentarily and half-running towards Dumbledore and his unconscious cargo as they passed through the doors to the hospital wing. Ron's features flashed from alarm to bemusement and back again, before he seemed to cotton on to whatever had got her upset and hurried after her. Louis followed, breaking into a jog and making it into the hospital wing in time to hear Hermione frantically explaining something to Dumbledore and an increasingly irate medi-witch.

"Not touch them! What do you mean, I can't touch them? And how am I supposed to heal them if I can't administer treatment?"

"The clothes are spelled to stay on – they can't be removed by anyone but the wearer. There's some nasty side effects if you try. We've just come from fighting a war," Hermione explained tiredly, as if their injured bodies hadn't already suggested this. "It's standard procedure, in case of capture. I'm sorry. You just can't take them off."

Madame Pomphrey looked, if anything, more upset by this explanation. "War," she muttered angrily to herself, and it was apparent she either doubted Dumbledore's explanation of their origins or he hadn't had time to explain the situation. "As if we wouldn't have heard of a war where children were fighting."

Hermione heard this and, too tired to easily suffer being patronised, her eyes flashed at the medi-witch. "Don't you dare doubt me," she said coldly, straightening up and pinning Madame Pomphrey with her gaze, ignoring Ron's gentle touch on her arm. "We are not children. We have fought for our lives, we have watched our friends die and we have killed to protect those we love. Don't you dare."

Madame Pomphrey swallowed nervously as Hermione continued, still speaking in an icy tone.

"You cannot take our clothes off, because if we allowed strangers to remove our personal possessions and protections we would have died long ago. You cannot touch them because those two have been subjected to more than you can possible imagine and have magical defences set up to prevent strangers touching them while they are unaware. There was no time to take them down."

"Between the being ripped out of a battle, dumped in a bloody impossible situation and collapsing? More like we had other things to think about and forgot the blasted things were still up," was Ron's blunt contribution.

Louis felt his eyebrows rising into his hair at this exchange. Merlin, he thought, what kind of war had these kids been in?

Madame Pomphrey's mouth was opening and shutting as her struggle to understand what on earth was going on here warred with her professional need to treat her patients.

"Headmaster?" she said weakly, turning to Dumbledore rather than face the irate young woman in front of her. "What...who.....war? How? Who are these people?"

Dumbledore simply looked thoughtful. "It's a long story Poppy, one even we don't fully understand yet. Suffice to say that these young people mean us no harm and are for the moment under my protection. I'm afraid we shall just have to work around these restrictions."

He tapped a finger on his chin. "Can you remove the defences on yourself and your friend, Hermione, was it?"

Both Hermione and Ron looked less than happy with this idea, but seemed to realise it would be counter productive to refuse and nodded reluctantly in his direction. Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at them and motioned towards Harry and Draco.

"Then perhaps you might allow Madame Pomphrey to do what she can for your friends?

Hermione nodded again and, with a further warning glance at the medi-witch, moved out from in front of Harry and Draco's unconscious forms to stand, leaning on Ron, at the end of their beds. They watched silently as Madame Pomphrey attended to their friends, running her wand in patterns over them, muttering incantations to herself and occasionally glaring at Hermione as if to blame her for being unable to do any more than that. Louis could have sworn he heard her mutter something about the cruciatus curse as she did his work and filed it away, not wanting to think about the implications of that just yet. Turning his gaze back to Hermione and Ron, he watched as they both shook their heads at Dumbledore's gesture towards the beds next to Harry and Draco, preferring to stay standing and watchful until their friends had been taken care of.

Privately, despite his respect for their loyalty to each other, Louis thought it an unnecessary vigil. They were obviously exhausted and in pain and by refusing themselves any sort of reprieve they did nothing other than worsen their own condition. Then again, he wasn't the one in a foreign situation. If he were them, even with Dumbledore's vow, perhaps he too would have trouble letting his friends out of his sight.

Finally, after copious comments the idiocy of bloody wizards who abused their bodies and numerous mutterings about the kind of people who wouldn't let a healer do her job, Madame Pomphrey finished with the two young men and Hermione and Ron allowed themselves to be treated. It was with obvious trepidation that they listened to the medi-witch's insistence on a sleeping draught and it was only Hermione's whispered intervention that prevented Ron from refusing outright.

"Professor," she said, addressing Dumbledore, "I... could we ask that no-one other than yourself and Madame Pomphrey enter this room while we're asleep?" And unable to defend ourselves. Louis didn't need to hear the unspoken thought and, so it seemed, neither did Dumbledore, who gazed back at Hermione with understanding. "The vows....well, they're something, but they're not infallible. We have no choice but to trust you for now, but you can't vouch for everyone's actions and well....we don't really know the people here..." She glanced almost imperceptibly in Louis' direction and he met her gaze, calmly, with a raised eyebrow.

Ron interrupted. "What's she's trying to say is that unless you can promise us that no-one else will come in here while we're out, one of us will stay on guard at all times."

"I was trying to be diplomatic about it, Ronald."

"There's no diplomatic way to put it, 'Mione." Turning to Dumbledore, Ron shrugged apologetically. "It's not that we don't trust you, it's just that, well, we can't trust you. Not yet. Not with what we've been through. There's no way we're remaining in here undefended if anyone can just wander in."

Madame Pomphrey was practically spluttering by now. "On guard? Stay awake?! Do you have any idea of the damage you'll do to your health if you don't sleep now? Neither of you are in any condition to remain awake!"

Ron looked at her calmly. "We can survive for a little longer on pepper up and some energy spells. If you cannot promise us this, it's one of us awake at all times, or both of us. We'll take shifts."

Louis re-appraised the young redhead carefully. To be honest, he hadn't taken much notice of him during the confrontation in the hall. His attention had been on the other two, especially the brunette and Ron hadn't really done anything to distinguish himself. Standing here now, watching him, Louis began to re-evaluate his first impression. Seeing the way Hermione was resting on him, the way she was looking at him and the way he had been looking at her and his unconscious friends, Louis thought he understood a little more of the kind of man Ron was. He was the stalwart, the friend who provided support and always had your back, the one who would be there when no-one else was. He wouldn't shine, not in the company of friends like his, but he'd be solid and unwavering instead. And when they weren't there, he would be: just as capable, just as strong and just as dangerous. Louis suspected, looking at him, that he'd come to terms with this long ago. Who knows, maybe he'd resented their brilliance once upon a time, but now, standing there calm and resolute, he seemed to know exactly who he was.

They were a remarkable group of people, really, Louis reflected. An intimidating and, seemingly, brilliant witch, a sharp and composed aristocrat, a strong and stalwart wizard and a powerful and unpredictable leader. A remarkable combination. He doubted that anything was ever dull when these four were together.

Dumbledore's voice cut through his musing. "There's no need for that. I will ward the door to admit only myself and Madame Pomphrey. Poppy, can you remain here and let me know when they wake?"

Madame Pomphrey looked apologetic. "I can stay Headmaster, but if you ward the door, I'll have to leave if anyone else needs me. I won't ignore my charges."

"That's fine Poppy." Fixing his eyes on Ron, the Headmaster continued, with a hint of command in his voice, "If neither of us is here, however, the wards will also prevent you from leaving this room. You may not be able to trust me, but it runs both ways. I will not allow you to roam this castle unsupervised until I know more."

Louis noticed that both the strangers bristled at what was, basically, a suggestion of imprisonment, but, having exchanged an unreadable glance with his companion, Ron nodded shortly in the Dumbledore's direction. "Understood, Headmaster."

"Very well. Louis, if you will." Dumbledore gestured towards the door and Louis nodded politely in the direction of Ron and Hermione, before proceeding out into the hallway. Dumbledore exchanged a few words with Madame Pomphrey and followed him out, warding the door on the way.

"My office, Louis. Dinner should be over by now, and I imagine there are a few people who would like to discuss tonight's events."

Louis laughed at this, knowing that most, if not all of the staff, were even now gathered outside the entrance to the Headmaster's office, clamouring about the appearance of the four young people. With the exception of Professor McGonagall and possibly Professor Flitwick, he knew that they would be exchanging theories on the origins of the strangers, probably getting more and more outlandish as time went on, and asserting their own personal assessment of the threat they posed. He suspected there was already a betting pool running on where they had come from and what their 'intentions' were. No doubt there was one amongst the students as well, if the Marauders had anything to do with it. As they certainly would have.

Ah. Louis made a mental note to be on the lookout for any inquisitive students, particularly a quartet of Gryffindor troublemakers. The student population would be desperate to find out anything they could about what had happened tonight and they could be particularly inventive when they wanted something. He wouldn't put it past them, especially the Marauders, who seemed to think that boundaries were for other people, to try and get past Dumbledore's wards. He mentioned as much to the Headmaster as they made their way towards his office, and Dumbledore smiled.

"I wondered about that. Nothing should be able to get into the hospital wing that I don't know about. We shall have to be careful about what we say in public, however, until we know more. Merlin knows what kind of rumours could start from what we do know."

"It should be interesting to watch them try though, Headmaster. I imagine they'll have to get fairly creative this time."

Dumbledore chuckled at this. "I imagine they will." Glancing sidelong at the defence professor, his eyes twinkled slightly. "Best duelling etiquette day so far, Louis?"

Louis' answer matched the Headmaster's dry tone as he nodded. "And thank Merlin for that, Albus, thank Merlin for that."