Chapter four: In which the Golden Trio commits mail theft

"It's dodgy," Hermione announced. "Call me paranoid, but I can't believe that a transfer who comes to Hogwarts mere months after You-Know-Who's return and refuses to let the Sorting Hat into his mind…. Well, I don't see how that could be a coincidence."

"Same here," Harry agreed, glancing over towards the Hufflepuff table.

Fenton was still wearing his pajamas. He sat alone, stiff as a board, glaring suspiciously at the staff table. Occasionally one of the staff (usually Umbridge, Snape, or Sprout) would glare back. Then Fenton would narrow his eyes and the teacher would back down.

Yes. The new kid was angry enough that even Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, couldn't look at him for long.

"That's not the only odd thing about him," Ron noted. "Why's he in his jammies?"

Hermione nodded. "Why isn't he attending an American school? Why did he run from Professor Sprout this afternoon? Why was he levitated into the Great Hall? And why didn't he arrive at the start of term? We're already two weeks in; he'll be horribly behind in his classes."

"Maybe Voldemort didn't recruit him until just now," Harry suggested quietly.

His friends flinched involuntarily at the name.

"So you really do think he's a Death Eater?" Hermione queried.

"I don't know," her friend sighed. "It would certainly explain some things, like why he wouldn't let the hat Sort him, but there are other things that it doesn't explain."

"That doesn't mean we can rule it out," Hermione commented.

Harry nodded.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Ron muttered. He cast another glance at the Hufflepuff table and shuddered. "That Fenton bloke is the scariest badger I've ever seen."

"He doesn't seem to like Snape, though," Harry observed. "Wouldn't they be chummier if they were both Death Eaters? Or maybe," he acquiesced, "they're just pretending. I don't know."

"So," Hermione concluded, "Fenton might be a Death Eater, but we don't know for certain. How are we going to find out?"

"I'll look at him on the Marauder's Map," Harry decided. "Just in case he's another Crouch. I don't think Voldemort will do that again, but it was pretty effective last time, so maybe he will."

"I wish he was in Gryffindor," Hermione sighed. "Then it would be so much easier to keep an eye on him."

Ron looked at her as though she'd declared her undying love for Snape. "If he were in Gryffindor, he'd sleep in the same dorm as Harry and me. I don't want a Death Eater anywhere near my bed."

"I can look at his dot on the map between classes," Harry volunteered.

Hermione chewed her lip. "That's a good plan, Harry, but I don't think it's enough. It would be horribly difficult to find proof that he's a Death Eater- or, I suppose, proof that he isn't- just by looking at the map. We need to do something more."

"We have Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, don't we?" asked Ron. "Maybe one of us could partner with him or something."

"But if he is a Death Eater, that would be playing right into his hands," Harry pointed out.

Ron scowled but was forced to admit that his friend had a point.

"I wonder," Hermione muttered, gaze riveted on the new arrival. "I wonder… yes, I suppose that would work…."

"Mind cluing us non-geniuses in?" asked Ron hopefully.

Hermione looked around the Gryffindor table. No one was paying attention to them. Still, when she spoke, her voice was low. "If he sends out any mail, we could intercept it. A Death Eater would send lots of letters, I think, and many of them would be in code. I can read up on cryptography and Decoding Spells…."

Harry was nodding. "Great idea, Hermione. We should make copies of any incriminating letters. And if we don't find any, we can just stop reading his mail."

She nodded back.

"Personally," grumbled Ron, "I don't think finding incriminating evidence will be that difficult. The only thing I wonder is how much we'll find."


"Your behavior today was despicable."

Danny arched an eyebrow at his new Head of House. "My behavior was despicable? I'm not the one who kidnapped-"

"Despicable," Sprout repeated, more loudly than before. "Especially in these troubled times."

That, of course, made her reluctant pupil pay attention. "What's that mean?"

She waved a negligent hand. "Never you mind- it's of no concern to students. Now, Mr. Fenton, we have no intention of expelling you."

"Darn."

Sprout's eye twitched. "We've been warned about you, so don't think that you can repeat your little trick with those mutant sausages."

Danny grinned widely, partly because he knew it would annoy her and partly because the memory was pretty funny.

Months ago, when American magical academies had been trying to recruit him, Danny had needed a way to ensure that they weren't interested in him. In other words, he had to convince the headmasters that they did NOT want him anywhere near their school.

He had done so by inviting the heads to his home for dinner and a discussion. He said that he wanted to weigh the options, figure out which school was the best fit for him. The heads had foolishly agreed.

Danny had dressed himself in a neon orange jumpsuit and several pounds of highly visible ecto-weaponry. He'd spent the entire meeting impersonating his father- blathering on about ghosts and completely ignoring the wizards' increasingly obvious horror. Then, very sweetly, he told them that he had a special type of familiar and could they look at them, please, and tell him if he could bring his pets to school with him?

By that point, they had been desperate to hear about anything other than ghosts. They agreed. Danny then proceeded to open the refrigerator and extract the mutant talking hot dogs which had dwelt there for almost two years.

The hot dogs took one look at the appalled, bug-eyed wizards and attacked.

"But they're my familiars," Danny whined to the Head of Hufflepuff.

"Here at Hogwarts, undead meat products are not allowed as pets." Sprout's tone made it clear that she was not going to budge. "Tomorrow, when you go to Diagon Alley, you may purchase a cat or an owl or a toad."

Danny went still. They were letting him out of the school tomorrow?

"Don't even think about it," Sprout cautioned. "Remember that Dumbledore has you under a Tracking Charm, and we will be sending a chaperone with to make sure you don't escape. And even if, against all odds, you manage to elude your escort, how do you intend to get home? You have no passport or money. You're stuck."

The halfa suppressed a snort. I can fly, lady. And as for the Tracking Charm… okay, that could be a problem. Maybe it would wear off if I went into the Ghost Zone? He imagined the wizards' reaction to the Far Frozen- let's see them fight an army of yetis to get me back!- and grinned.

Sprout's expression of suspicion grew even more pronounced.

But, he mused, face growing stoic again, if the spell didn't wear off, I'd have a lot of explaining to do. Normal kids or even untrained wizards can't get into the Ghost Zone. And I can't open natural portals yet- I'd have to find one or go back to Amity Park, and that would give them a lot of time to notice I'm missing.

No, it was best to go with his first plan: get rid of the Tracking Charm, then head for the hills and never, ever accept a letter from an owl again.

"As you are now a member of my House-" (something Sprout plainly regretted) "-you are accountable to me for your misdeeds."

"What misdeeds? Freaking out when a bunch of wizards kidnapped me?"

"I hope, Mr. Fenton, that you have learned from your mistakes."

"Trust me, I have."

She pondered that for a few seconds before deciding to deliberately misinterpret it. "Good. I expect you here at eight o'clock on the spot tomorrow."

"What happens if I don't show?"

"Another Body-bind."

Danny scowled. "Oh, wonderful. You know, maybe the mere fact that you have to-"

Sprout's hand twitched involuntarily toward her wand. Danny shut up, gaze riveted on the stick.

"I will bring you to the Common Room now," she growled. "Follow me, Mr. Fenton."

The halfa considered a few moments before grudgingly obeying. "So how do I get myself declared competent with a wand?" he demanded as they walked through the school.

"I honestly don't know," Sprout admitted, embarrassed.

"You don't know?" Danny yelped. "You're kidding. Isn't that just another way of saying that you can keep me here as long as you like without technically breaking the law?"

His teacher didn't answer, which Danny took as a yes. "You people are insane," he moaned. "And not in a good way, like my friend Tucker. He's good-crazy. You people are just crazy-crazy."

"Here it is," the professor announced. She rapped on a barrel (one of many that were inexplicably stacked in that particular corner) and said, "Helga Hufflepuff."

The barrel slid open, revealing a narrow tunnel. A toddler might have been able to walk through it without incident (assuming that the toddler knew how to walk), but normally-sized teenagers would have to crawl.

"Crazy-crazy," Danny muttered, but he humored his Head of House by crawling through the (fortunately short) tunnel.

The Common Room itself was quite a bit nicer than its entrance. It was roughly circular, with several windows, a warmly crackling fireplace, and two portraits on the wall. The chamber was also filled with dancing plants, which reminded Danny uncomfortably of Undergrowth.

The halfa sat next to a nervous-looking boy about his own age. "I'm Justin," the other boy gulped.

"Nice to meet you," Danny mumbled. He frowned at the second portrait. Its subject was a young man in Hufflepuff robes. The caption read REMEMBER CEDRIC DIGGORY. The halfa pointed. "What's the story behind that?"

Justin's face clouded over with sorrow. "That's Cedric," he explained. "He died last year." And with that, he launched into an explanation of why Danny had picked the worst possible time to enter wizarding Britain.


"Okay," said Harry, leaning over the Marauders' Map. They had watched Danny Fenton's dot go from Sprout's office to the Common Room (which was labeled terra incognita. The Marauders had never managed to penetrate the badgers' lair) before stopping by the kitchen and then returning to Hufflepuff territory. "He's leaving their common room now."

"Finally," grumbled Ron. "What took him so long?"

"He probably had to actually write his letters," Hermione pointed out. She squinted at the map. "It certainly looks like he's heading toward the Owlery. We'd better get in position, just in case."

As one, the three students stood. They trotted from the Gryffindor Common Room to the Quidditch broom shed. Once they arrived, Harry took out his Firebolt and Ron grabbed one of the old school brooms.

"You can ride with me if you want," his friend volunteered.

Ron looked from his ratty old broom to the other's gleaming Firebolt. "How about I ride that broom next time?"

"Works for me," Harry agreed. Then, to Hermione, "Where is he?"

"He's definitely in the Owlery," she confirmed. She smiled slightly. "Quite considerate of him, don't you think, sending his letter off right away."

Her friends laughed. Once he was finished, Harry commented, "Ron, we should probably start flying now. We need to see the owl when it leaves the castle."

They mounted their brooms and flew, circling the Owlery. They arrived just in time, for two birds flew out of the castle as they approached.

"Two of them?" Ron asked, surprised. He frowned. "There wasn't anyone else in the Owlery, so they must both be from him." Harry nodded.

Their plan was simple: they tailed the owls for a quarter mile before Summoning the letters attached to their feet. The birds squawked as the spell dragged them towards the wizards.

"Sorry," said Harry. He grabbed the slightly larger bird and pointed his wand at the epistle it was carrying. "Geminio." Beside him, Ron repeated the spell.

A perfect duplicate of the letter appeared. Harry grabbed it, superbly grateful for his Seeker's reflexes. "All right," he told 'his' owl, "that's all we needed. You can leave now."

The owl shot him a baleful glare. Before departing, it gave him a nasty peck on the ear. "Ow!" the wizard yelped, grabbing his injured body part.

Ron's owl was even more belligerent. He ended up with several scratches on his face.

"Are you two all right?" Hermione asked once they reached the ground.

"Owls have sharp beaks," Harry grumbled. He waved his prize at her. "But we got the letters- there were two of them, you see. This one is to-" He read the address "-to his mum and dad. Who's yours to, Ron?"

"Someone named Jazz. Who d'you reckon she is?"

"No idea."

"Let's read Ron's letter first," Hermione suggested. "I don't want to read someone's letter to his parents unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Good plan," Harry agreed.

Ron opened the epistle.

Dear Jazz,

First off, don't freak out. Physically I'm fine, and the people who kidnapped me have every reason to want me alive.

Yes, Jazz, kidnapped. Remember those British wizards who wanted me to go to their piggy school? Instead of taking the hint when I ran away from home to avoid going with them, they went and kidnapped me. They sent a messenger owl with some kind of magical transporter thingy attached to its leg. When I touched the transporter thingy, I ended up here in Pig School.

Needless to say, I am not particularly happy about being kidnapped, and I intend to sue the pants off the jerks responsible. At the very least, I'm going to turn up the heat around here. What can I say? When life gives you lemons, you don't make lemonade. You take the lemon juice and squirt it into the other guy's eye. Then you make your escape while he's still in pain.

This letter is mostly just to let you know that I'm okay, despite being kidnapped and all. So don't worry. I'll probably be home soon.

Much love,

Your favorite little brother, Danny

"He was kidnapped?" Ron exclaimed. "Blimey, no wonder he was so angry!"

His friends nodded in agreement. Then Harry said, "Should we open the other letter too?"

Hermione grimaced. "I think so. It's better to be completely certain now than sorry later."

"Right," Harry agreed.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Remember how I ran away from home so I wouldn't have to go to wizard school? Well, they didn't get the hint. They kidnapped me, branded me with some kind of tracking charm thing, and are keeping me under house arrest indefinitely. I'm going to try and sue them for kidnapping me, so could you add evidence at the trial? You could use all the money we win in the lawsuit to fund your inventions.

They're taking me to 'Diagon Alley' tomorrow to buy my supplies, because they didn't have the decency to take my stuff with me when they kidnapped me. I'm going to sneak away and contact a lawyer then, and I'm also going to get my own owl. Hopefully, I'll be back home within a month.

Wish me luck,

Danny

"Glad that's settled," Ron sighed. "And he's going home soon, too. That's good."

Hermione didn't seem quite so certain. She picked up the letter to Jazz, stared at it intently. Her fingers traced four words: lemon, heat, lemon juice. "I wonder…" she muttered. "Harry, Ron, am I the only one who thinks that his letter to his sister is too short for the amount of parchment that he used?"

They looked at the epistle. Sure enough, Danny's words only took up about half the surface area of the parchment. The rest was blank.

"You're right," Harry noted. "That is rather odd."

"That's what I thought," Hermione agreed, relieved that they'd confirmed her suspicions. "And I think I know why." A quick spell later, and she was proven right once more.

"Lemon juice," the witch explained smugly as she watched the rest of the letter appear. Danny's words were small and cramped and a bit messier than usual, as he wasn't used to writing with quills or ink he couldn't see. His true letter took up the remainder of the parchment's front side and all of its back. "It's a Muggle form of invisible ink that reappears when you apply heat."

"A secret letter's definitely dodgy," Ron growled.

Jazz, Sam, and Tucker-

Everything I wrote about in the 'official' letter is true, but there's a whole lot more to the story. I kind of freaked out when I found myself in a strange place…. [Here he detailed the other events of the day, including being chased by Sprout and 'mentally assaulted by a talking hat.' He did not, however, mention why he kept it from his mind- his friends already knew.]

So yeah, the wizards kind of hate me now. But don't worry, because the feeling's mutual.

I'm just glad that no one knows my secret. I was worried about the ghosts here, but they're utterly clueless, mostly because they didn't even know about the GZ until a couple years ago-that's what they get for binding themselves to the Mortal Plane. Thank the Ancients for that, right? So that secret, at least, is safe, which means they're not likely to lock me up in their highest-security prison and throw away the key.

One last thing: a civil war may or may not be about to break out. My one roommate Justin told me that apparently, there's this guy called Voldemort (you wouldn't believe how hard it was to get that name out of him. The people here are afraid to say it. I repeat: they are afraid even to say Voldemort's name) who thinks that non-wizards are scum. He disappeared about fourteen years ago…. [Here he related the story of how Harry had defeated the Dark Lord, the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and the controversy about whether or not Voldemort had returned.]

Murphy's Law says that he probably really IS alive and is readying himself to murder these kidnap-happy wizards. If he is… well, I'll be stuck here in Britain until I figure out a way to remove the Tracking Charm, so I might as well do something about him while I'm here. Can you guys check out his record at the Halo da Sondiscoj or maybe ask CW where I can find the guy? Thanks- you're the best.

If he isn't back, I have three goals. First, get rid of the Tracking Charm. Second, go home before they figure out that the spell is gone. Third, make them REGRET kidnapping me so that when I do escape, they'll be glad to see me gone and don't try to capture me again. I need to make sure that they don't want me back. I have lots of ideas about how to manage that, but if you guys have any suggestions (which I know you do, because you're awesome like that), fire away.

But since I'm probably going to be here for a few days, GET DANIELLE. I don't want S and T alone any longer than necessary. You guys are tough, but I'd feel a lot better if she's there with you. Besides, D doesn't have to go to school like you do. And no, S, I am not being overprotective. I just don't want you to get hurt.

I miss you already.

Danny

"So…" Ron's voice trailed off. "He has a secret that would get him thrown into prison, he hates wizards, and he wants to find You-Know-Who? I'd say that counts as dodgy."

"Yes, Ron," Hermione said quietly. "It does."


Halo da Sondiscoj is Esperanto for "Hall of Records." It's the place where the Observants keep their records of everyone who has ever died.

Rue-the-day-o-meter: 5.15. It ranged from 11 (which is technically not supposed to happen, but whatever) to 2. Remember to vote for next chapter, and continue guessing about Randall. One person has figured him out already.

The letter-stealing isn't, if you ask me, OOC. They have reason to be paranoid, because a bad guy is trying to KILL them. From their perspective, mail theft is a totally legitimate course of action. Until Danny finds out, of course.

By the way, you should all thank book_phan44 for guilting me into this. Also, book_phan, you might want to stop making faces at everyone who's staring at you. Just a suggestion.

-Corona