Author's Note: We're at chapter 10! At last, in the double digits! XD Wooo! Nothing much to say, just want to request that you keep reviewing!
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own "Harry Potter." Still.
10. Warning
The week after Christmas passed quickly, and soon New Years was approaching. Lupin was back on his feet and out of the hospital wing the day after Christmas, having moved temporarily into the Room of Requirement. Harry and Hermione could often be found sitting with him in the Great Hall, getting served by the house-elves (who seemed to remember Lupin from the many excursions he and the other Marauders had made to the kitchens; they grinned happily and bowed until their noses reached the floor whenever he so much as smiled at them) and getting him to help them with their copious amounts of homework.
"This is ridiculous," Lupin muttered one morning, holding his head in his hands and staring at a complex numerology chart as the three of them waited for the house-elves to produce some breakfast. "I don't remember any of this."
"It's all right," Hermione said, smiling and taking back the chart. "Help Harry with his Transfiguration essay, he looks like he's going to throw up." Harry glared at her, but pushed the parchment in Lupin's direction regardless.
"Yeah, you should be an expert on this stuff. It's all about Animagi and how they learn to transform," Harry said, smirking at Lupin knowingly. The older wizard snorted.
"In case you've forgotten, my dear friends became Animagi without my knowing, so I really shouldn't be an expert. You'd be better off actually reading the chapter for once," Lupin retaliated jokingly. Harry made a face, but was interrupted before he could answer.
"Good morning!" Dumbledore strode up to the table, smiling through his long white beard.
"Good morning, Albus," Lupin said with a smile, looking up at the Headmaster. "Would you like to join us for breakfast?"
"No, no, thank you. I have to gather my affairs before all the students return from the holiday. But I do hope to see the three of you for the New Years feast tonight! It would take our planned attendance up to eight!" Lupin raised his eyebrows.
"Is it really New Years already?" he mused aloud, shaking his head. "Crazy. But yes, Albus, I would be happy to attend."
"We'll be there too, Professor," Harry said after a glance and a nod from Hermione. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily over his glasses.
"Wonderful. See you in here at seven!" He inclined his head briefly, then swept out of the Great Hall in a flurry of blue robes.
Moments later, the post came, and two owls came spiralling down from the open windows. One of them brought two issues of the Daily Prophet, one going to Lupin and the other to Hermione, both of whom placed a bronze Knut in the pouch tied onto the bird's leg before it took off again with a swoop of its large, tawny wings. The other owl was Harry's Hedwig, bearing a single rolled piece of parchment. She landed on the table before him, almost overturning his goblet of pumpkin juice, and held her leg out, hooting dolefully. Harry untied the letter and unrolled it quickly, curious to see who had written to him; his only correspondants since Sirius had died (his heart twinged painfully at this thought) were Lupin, who was sitting right across from him, and Hagrid.
The letter was only one line long. Harry frowned as he read it, and Hermione noticed, looking up from the Prophet.
"What is it, Harry?" she asked.
"This letter," he said vaguely, still pondering it.
"What does it say?" Harry glanced at Lupin, who was watching him from over his paper, brow furrowed. Harry cleared his throat and read it aloud:
Watch the Blood-fiend. Keep close the Wolf. 'Ware the Year's Birth.
Lupin's frown deepened and he set down the Daily Prophet, clearly finding Harry's letter more interesting.
"Is it signed?" he asked. Harry nodded.
"It says it's from 'the Alchemist', whoever that is," he said, petting Hedwig absently.
"Maybe it's a pseudonym," Hermione suggested.
"A who-do-what?" Harry asked, looking baffled.
"A fake name," said Lupin. "An alias a person uses when they don't want others to know their real identity. May I see that, Harry?" he asked, holding out his hand. Harry handed it over and Lupin studied it closely for a minute or two.
"Well, the message isn't all that cryptic," he said, returning the letter to Harry. "It's telling you to watch Thoreau, keep a close eye on me, and beware New Years, which is tonight."
"How do you know that?" Hermione asked. "Is 'blood-fiend' another way to say vampire?"
"Basically, but it's a very crude way that hasn't been used for centuries," Lupin said, clearly rather put-off by its use. He stood abruptly. "If you'll excuse me, then, I'm going to go inform Dumbledore about that letter. Is that all right, Harry?" Harry nodded dumbly and he and Hermione watched as Lupin exitted the Great Hall, leaving two confused students behind.
A house-elf suddenly appeared at Harry's side and tugged on his robes to get his attention.
"Would young sir and mistress still like some breakfast?"
-----
"I wonder why he was so upset about that letter," Harry wondered after the two of them had finished eating the enormous breakfast the house-elves had provided. They were walking up to the library to do some more homework, passing portraits that kept wishing them a happy New Year.
"Well it's obvious, isn't it? I mean, why would he want to find out that some anonymous letter-writer is sending you warnings about how you have to keep a close eye on him when he's twice your age and practically your guardian?" Hermione asked, acting as though it was the most evident thing in the world. "And also, his pride might already be a little hurt because Voldemort managed to capture him before."
"But getting captured by Voldemort is nothing to be ashamed of! I saw him, Hermione, I saw him stand up to Voldemort, which is bloody hard to do, and he took out four Death Eaters before he got caught," Harry said. Hermione shrugged.
"Well, either way, it's got to be hard." She paused for a second, ignoring the already-drunken wizard in a painting to her right yelling obscene things at her. "But what about the last warning, Harry? The one about tonight? Do you... do you think there'll be an attack?" she asked, looking frightened.
They had approached the library doors now, and Madam Pince was peeking out at them suspiciously. Harry pulled Hermione into an unoccupied classroom hurriedly and shut the door behind so that they could talk in private.
"I don't know," he said quietly, answering her question. "I don't see how Death Eaters could attack Hogwarts, especially not with Dumbledore here, but who knows? We'll just have to be prepared, I guess."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide and over-bright. She was clutching her Arithmancy book to her chest tightly. "Harry, they can't take Lupin again, can they? Is V-Voldemort still after him?"
"I don't think he's given up on him yet, no. But stop worrying! Dumbledore is going to be here tonight, and so are Lupin, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and Thoreau," Harry said, trying to sound optimistic. Deep down, he was praying to God that the letter was a fluke, sent by someone like Malfoy just to freak him out.
"But the letter said we should watch Thoreau. Could that... could that mean she's a traitor?" Hermione asked, still barely speaking over a whisper. Harry sighed and leaned against the door.
"I don't know, Hermione. I just don't know."
-----
As the morning turned to afternoon, Harry began to notice signs of increased security around the castle. Filch could be seen setting up traps by each of the doors, looking immensely happy with himself; Harry was sure that anyone caught in those traps would probably end up in the hospital wing, and so made mental notes to avoid them.
Once, in the mid-afternoon, Harry caught Snape talking in hushed tones to Dumbledore near the entrance to the Great Hall. The Potions master looked livid, and Harry - curiosity piqued - decided to get a bit closer. Pretending to be absorbed in the book he was currently carrying (a large tome on Aurors and their specified jobs that Lupin had lent to him), he edged a bit further down the stairs, careful not to go too fast or get too close.
"- can be trusted? Who knows what the Dark Lord did to him while he was in His custody? What if he's using the werewolf as a way to gain information, like he almost did with Potter last year?" he was hissing. Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes closed serenely.
"No, Severus. Remus is not a traitor, or a spy, and I won't stand for you constantly accusing him."
"Then what about the vampire? Do we really know where her allegiance lies?" Snape demanded, seeming almost desperate to convict someone of treason.
"Is this really all because of the warning that Harry received today, or have you been holding your suspicions in all this time?" Dumbledore asked, sounding amused. Snape narrowed his eyes, but didn't dare retort. Instead, he looked past the Headmaster's shoulder and noticed Harry, to the younger's dismay. The look of frustration quickly changed to one of pure loathing, as it always did whenever the Potions master's eyes lit upon his childhood enemy's son.
"Potter!" he barked. "What are you doing?"
"Reading," Harry replied innocently, holding up the book so that both Snape and Dumbledore, who had turned to face Harry, could see.
"A likely story," Snape sneered.
"Now, Severus, I'm sure it wasn't Harry's intention to overhear our conversation," Dumbledore said, although with a rather pointed look at Harry.
"Er, yeah, I was just heading to the Great Hall," Harry lied with a smile.
"You see?" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Completely harmless. Off you go then, Harry. And don't forget about the feast tonight! Seven o'clock sharp!" Harry grinned and nodded, then hurried the rest of the way down the stairway, eager to tell Hermione what he had just heard.
-----
"Doesn't it seem like he's trying to place the blame on anyone but himself?" Harry asked as he and Hermione packed up their school books after an afternoon of studying in the Gryffindor common room.
"I don't know," Hermione said timidly, not meeting Harry's eye. "Did you ever think that maybe he's just worried about tonight? Or that maybe you're a bit biased, just because you two hate each other so much?"
"So you don't think what I heard was suspicious?" Harry demanded, shoving his Potions book into his sack with an unnecessary amount of force.
"I didn't say that!" Hermione exclaimed defensively. "All I'm saying is that you should just let it go. It might not even mean anything."
"But then what about the letter?"
"What about the letter?" Hermione asked, sounding slightly exasperated.
"We need to know who sent it. Who is the Alchemist, and why would he want to warn us? Is he on our side, or is he with Voldemort? Is the warning valid, or just a diversion for something else, something worse?" Harry rattled these off rather quickly; he had been thinking about the mysterious letter all day, and still couldn't find any answers to these questions.
"Look, Harry, let's just get to the feast. It's New Years Eve, and we should have fun," Hermione said. She had already slung her bag over her shoulder and was heading up to the girls' dormitories. "I'll meet you back down here at half past six, okay?"
Harry watched her go, frustrated with her for not taking the situation more seriously, but deciding that in the end she was right.
There was nothing more he could do. Lupin had told Dumbledore about the warning, and the Headmaster would handle everything.
-----
At a quarter till seven, Harry and Hermione walked into the Great Hall together.
It looked magnificent: streamers and balloons filled every corner of the room, and the single table in the middle of the hall was decorated with party hats and confetti. Large letters glowing with neon brightness flashed "Happy New Year" in midair, and charmed confetti was falling continuously from the ceiling, like the snow had before in Professor Flitwick's classroom.
Lupin, Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall were already waiting, chatting casually around the table. Hagrid grinned at Harry and Hermione when they entered.
"Happy New Year!" he called, spreading his arms wide. Harry grinned back at him.
"It's not the New Year yet," he joked. Lupin chuckled as Hagrid's entire bearded countenance fell.
"Just go along with it, Harry. Hagrid's already had a few too many," he said quietly. Hagrid just let out an obnoxiously loud guffaw and grabbed Lupin up into a bone-crushing one-armed hug. The Marauder shot Harry an "I-told-you-so" glance, and Harry laughed; maybe he could just forget all about that silly letter and have fun tonight.
The festivities began precisely at seven, just as Dumbledore had ordained. The six in attendance were soon joined by Thoreau, who was looking rather peaky (Harry wondered why; he hadn't seen her since the last day of classes, and at that point she had been looking just fine) and (to Harry's digust) Snape.
The feast went smoothly for about four hours. Everyone ate their fill of the house-elves' best cooking, and conversation was pleasant (despite Harry and Snape purposefully ignoring each other across the table).
At a quarter to midnight, though, the heavy doors burst open and Argus Filch staggered into the Great Hall, covered in blood.
Seconds later, all hell broke loose.
Author's Note: Cliffy! I think my first real one for this story... oh well, review and I'll update fast!
Thanks! Love you all, faithful readers!