Harry felt his insides squirm as he stood in Dumbledore's office. Perhaps he would have sat, but there were so many of them standing there, waiting to be lectured, that perhaps it would have been difficult to properly fit in all the chairs.
Neville and Ron were called in as well, and Catherine was standing on the other side of the room with Ginny, Luna, and Rhea. Harry licked his lips. Somehow, Dumbledore knew without a shadow of a doubt what the real base of the Great Prank War was.
"I have spoken with your parents," he said softly, calmly.
It was that tone parents used to say, "I'm disappointed in you," when you really would have preferred them to scream about how angry they were. Disappointment was just so much heavier of a blow somehow, and one that sort of settled in your stomach, lingering far longer than the sting of anger.
"Sir?" Catherine said, uncharacteristically anxious. Harry glanced at her and saw that she'd gone a bit pale.
"I visited Mr. Potter," Professor Dumbledore continued, as though not hearing her, "and Madam Longbottom, Mrs. Weasley" – Ron shrank and rolled his shoulders forward while Ginny seemed to want to melt into the furniture – "and Mr. Lovegood. I paid a very interesting visit to Mr. Prewett," he said, smiling absently to himself, "and yes, Miss Black, I sat down and had a talk with your father."
Harry closed his eyes. He could imagine his father's disappointment, but he'd earned it before. As far as Harry knew, Catherine had never disappointed Uncle Sirius, and he could only begin to imagine how upset this made her. But surely she knew that he knew. Surely she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to discuss the matter with him.
"I recognize that the seriousness of your actions does not always settle with you," he said softly, "but I want to impress upon you that even as young as you are, consequences can be permanent."
He pulled out a book on the shelf and took a photograph out of it, setting it on his desk before them. They craned for a look at it.
A young woman, maybe a girl of seventeen or so, smiling nervously with pale eyes and sandy-colored hair. She seemed anxious.
"This is Mary MacDonald," Professor Dumbledore said. "A student here about fifteen, twenty years ago. She was an average student with a very kind heart, and she was living during the war."
Harry's stomach dropped slightly. He could recognize where this was headed, although he didn't know what it had to do with him.
"Friends of hers were pranksters, not unlike yourselves." He smiled for a moment. "In a great many ways, not unlike yourselves. Of course, their targets did not take the pranking well, and pranking became dueling rather quickly, as I am sure you can all understand by now." Several of the students nodded their heads in understanding. "This was why we thought the Dueling Club might be good for you, to give you an outlet, but I see it was not enough."
He touched the photograph thoughtfully and said, "She suffered an Unforgivable Curse in her fifth year when a pranking incident got out of hand. Nothing could ever be proven, which happens at times in chaos, as I know you are all aware. And in her seventh year, she was killed. The pranks had become duels, which had become an extension of the war, and she was a Muggle-born, a weak link in her friends' infrastructure. It is not always the guilty, you know, who suffer."
Catherine's spine straightened and Harry saw her eyes go wide as she looked at the girl's face.
Perhaps she didn't see what Harry saw. Fifteen, twenty years ago? Student during the war? That was when their parents were at school. Their parents might have known this girl, probably did. Suddenly he looked over at Rhea Prewett, who looked like she was about to faint, and he thought of how Hermione Granger had nearly been permanently damaged by an accidental mixing of two mostly harmless jinxes.
"I expect all of you to comport yourselves better in future," Professor Dumbledore said sternly. "To tear others down is easy, and it is even easier to lose control. You have it within your power, each of you, to do great things with your talents. Should this war continue, I will take action. I have approval from all of your parents to do whatever I think is necessary to secure your safety, and the safety of those in your crossfire. I expect you to rise to this challenge as I know you can, and choose to make peace with each other. You are dismissed."
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Pansy Parkinson found Adrasteia Lestrange to be inconvenient and mildly infuriating. Just when Pansy thought she would be able to get close to Draco, Adrasteia had swept in and entrenched herself in his friend group, squeezing out the small opening Pansy had seen. It was so clear that the two girls could barely be in a room together civilly that Pansy was beginning to despair.
"We've got years before you'd marry him anyway," Daphne said lazily. "She'll get bored with them. Or she'll date some bloke her age and the opening will be back. Just relax."
But Pansy was not a patient girl.
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Harry half expected to get a Howler from his mother, but nothing came. He toyed with the idea of sending a letter, maybe a sort of apology or explanation, but what good would it do?
He also thought about getting out his mirror and having a chat with Catherine, but he still had that weight in his stomach from the way they'd been chastised. He wasn't ready to make the first steps toward peace yet, and the fact that she hadn't tried to call him said that she wasn't ready yet, either.
Instead, Harry tried, in vain, to do a bit of homework. Anything but look the issue in the face.
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Unable to be with Catherine, Rhea, and Luna at the moment, Ginny sat on her bed and tried to think about her Potions homework. Really, she preferred doing her homework with Catherine there because Catherine was disgustingly good at Potions, but right now they all needed a bit of space from each other.
Ginny could just imagine the Howler she was going to get, and she was sure Ron would be getting one too, when their mother got around to chastising them for their part in the whole mess of the Great Prank War. Ginny supposed she would have to sit down and talk to Colin, and Neville would likely already be filling in Hermione. But no one, no other person on either side, could make any decisions until their generals spoke – until Harry and Catherine decided to make peace.
They had to, Ginny thought, flipping through her textbook for information on algae. After that speech from Dumbledore, which had very clearly disturbed both Catherine and Harry, how could any of them entertain the idea of continuing this stupid battle?
Ginny could barely look Hermione Granger in the eye anymore, and the second issue wasn't even her fault! She hadn't even been at the massive corridor duel. Luna had told Ginny that Rhea was having nightmares, when she even got to sleep properly, and was afraid to go to Madam Pomfrey about it because she might accidentally get herself or one of her friends into trouble.
But their carefulness had been for naught. Whatever Dumbledore could or couldn't prove, he knew who was responsible. That was the only reason for calling in all of them, and not simply Harry and Catherine. He was making it clear that he knew every detail of their networks, and if there was another issue he'd probably call in Hermione, Colin, Fred and George, maybe even Malfoy. Anyone who'd done them a favor, loaned them a book, taught them a spell. Anyone who had served as an alibi or patsy, they'd be called in as well.
No, there could be no continuing the Great Prank War, but the blow to the pride of both leaders would be extensive. To make peace, they would have to call it a draw, and that either of them – much less both of them – had to walk away without being able to say they won….
Ginny supposed she'd eat with Colin for a while, at the far end of the Gryffindor table, just in case. Catherine and Harry could both be problematic when they were upset, and they were bound to be upset at the moment.
She dipped her quill carefully in her tilted ink well, cautious not to shift her mattress too extensively and spill her ink. It was so expensive to buy more, and she didn't want to write her essays on the charity of her much wealthier friends. Gently, she began to write her essay on the properties of algae within basic potions.
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Luna watched Rhea wring her hands anxiously. She'd gone especially pale, and Luna tried to make her eat some chocolate, but Rhea hadn't touched any food since they were in Dumbledore's office.
"My dad will be so upset with me," she said softly, pulling slightly at her hair. Luna wanted to stop her, but she knew that if she did Rhea would only start up again in a few minutes. "I'm supposed to be the good child, the calm one. My sister is supposed to be the one to do crazy and unhealthy and even dangerous things."
"We've all done something stupid at some point," Luna said shrugging. "I'll bet Dumbledore had his share of crazy and unhealthy and dangerous choices. Maybe more than his share, since he's done so much."
Rhea frowned as though what Luna said didn't make any sense, but she didn't argue. Rhea rarely argued. Instead she stood, began pacing, and said, "D'you think Kitty's going to extend the olive branch?"
"I'm not sure Kitty's an olive branch sort of person," Luna mused. "But it does seem more practical and probable than a white flag."
Again, Rhea seemed slightly puzzled by what Luna said, and then she shook her head, began pacing again, and said, "I guess we just have to wait and see. And hope."
"Indeed."
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Jason cringed, looking over the things in their father's study. He wished he'd never let his little sister talk him into this invasion of their father's privacy, but he hated being called a coward. Caroline knew this, of course, and she pulled it out of her bag of tricks when she knew there was no other way to get what she wanted. Caroline, much like Catherine, always got what she wanted.
"Can you read this?" she asked, holding up a book with handwriting that looked quite a bit like their father's.
"No," he said, flipping through the pages. "It's in shorthand, or some kind of code."
"I didn't know Daddy could write in code."
Jason wanted to make some retort about how they were violating their father's space, but he bit it back. She'd have some counterargument, to be certain, something to make him feel small.
She held up a little silver key, turning it over.
"What's this, d'you think?" she asked.
"A key," he said. When she stuck out her tongue, he sighed, and took it in his hands, turning it over. "A door key. One of the rooms. I've not seen this one, though."
"Must be the sitting room," she said, eyes wide. "The one we're not allowed in."
Caroline's eyes brightened, and Jason shook his head firmly.
"No way. Dad would be furious. We're not allowed."
"Jason, don't be a cow—"
With a growl, Jason led the way out of the study, his neck stiff with anger.
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Hermione touched her fingertips to Neville's fingers bracingly.
"They'll do the right thing," she said confidently when he finished explaining the very awkward meeting with Professor Dumbledore.
He frowned.
"How do you know?"
"Because deep down," she said softly, "they're good people. They've gotten carried away with their pride and everything, but they'll do the right thing."
Neville hummed, but she knew he was skeptical. In truth, Hermione didn't feel as sure as she sounded.
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Caroline watched her brother light some candles in brass candelabras and she stepped into the room. On the walls was quite a massive, elaborate tapestry.
"The Noble and Most An-see-ent House of Black."
"Ancient," Jason corrected, leaning over part of the wall. "This goes back ages."
"Look, there's Auntie Narcissa!" Caroline said, pointing to the name and face of Narcissa Malfoy. "And Uncle Lucius, and Draco."
"So that's them," Jason said, and he frowned at the name Bellatrix, who was apparently Narcissa's sister, and the burn mark between them. "And their parents…. There's our grandparents. Orion and Wal-Walburga."
"That's awful," Caroline sniffed, craning her neck for a better look. "What's that?"
The name Regulus, the name of their father's brother (Caroline only knew he was lost in the war) and a burn mark were side by side.
"I think that's Dad," Jason said, frowning. "And we're…we're not here."
"What does that mean?"
But her brother didn't answer, and Caroline wasn't sure why, but she felt a terrible, deep sadness such as she had never felt before.
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Hermione knocked on the door to Ginny's dormitory, wanting to find out if the girl was okay. At first there was no answer, but then Ginny meekly said hello, and Hermione let herself in.
Ginny was sitting on her bed, slaving over an essay that seemed to be causing her great distress.
"D'you want me to…" Hermione shrugged. "D'you want some help with that?"
The younger girl shook her head, rubbing the side of her nose anxiously. Then Hermione realized it wasn't the essay that was troubling Ginny, but the situation with the Great Prank War. Hermione moved the girl's ink well to the side table and sat down at the foot of her bed.
"Neville told me everything," she said. "It must have been terrible, a meeting like that with Professor Dumbledore."
"I still have to tell Colin," Ginny said solemnly. "I suppose Colin has to hear about it soon. Thankfully we didn't have any operations being worked on but…."
Ginny shrugged, looking down at her half-written essay. Hermione knew it was a bit sloppier than Professor Snape would want to accept, but she said nothing. She just watched and waited for Ginny to say something else. After a long silence between them, Ginny, not looking up, said, "I'm a bit tired of the feuding."
"I expect the others are, as well," Hermione said. "It's a tiring business, fighting."
The two girls spoke for a little while about nothing at all, as young girls are sometimes capable of doing, and Hermione did give Ginny some advice on her essay, which was about algae. It wasn't the easiest essay of first year, certainly. In fact, Professor Snape's essays were usually the most difficult.
After a while the two girls sat in companionable silence until Hermione assured Ginny that sooner or later, Catherine and Harry were going to have to speak, and peace was really the only option when they did.
"They're pretty stubborn," Ginny said skeptically, scratching the side of her nose again. "But yeah, I suppose they were always going to have to make peace eventually. And now that their fathers have been drawn into it, I don't suppose they've got much choice."
"Do their fathers get on?" Hermione asked, standing and smoothing her skirt. Somehow, she envisioned massive feuding, like with their children.
"Oh, wonderfully," Ginny said, smirking. "They're best friends, actually. They're each other's kids' godparents. Yeah, I know. It really doesn't make much sense, does it, this whole mess?"
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Ourania watched her mother through the window, talking softly but quickly with her father on one of their rare days off work together. Ourania kicked back and forth gently on the swing her father had set up in the back yard, but she wasn't paying attention to her swinging. She was trying to read her parents' lips.
Thus far, she could only tell that her father had asked if anything was ever enough, but she hadn't been able to make out her mother's response. It wasn't a fight, not exactly, but something was upsetting her father.
It had to do with her mother's work, she knew, but Ourania pursed her lips and tried to focus on the words her parents were saying. Even it meant nothing to her, it might mean something to Cora, who was making a bit of a study of their mother's behavior. Her mother said something about a locket, and this caused her father to blanch slightly. Ourania craned her neck, expecting him to say something after his long pause. Instead he nodded, sharply and shortly, and wrapped her mother up in a hug, letting her head rest at the base of his neck as he cuddled her.
Ourania made a gagging sound with her throat and threw herself off the swing, rushing forward to keep her momentum going as she ran after where Cora and Damon were watering the flowerbeds in the front of the house.
"Has Mummy got a locket?" Ourania asked. "Only she just said something to Daddy about a locket and he seemed quite shocked."
"Have you been spying on them again?" Damon said disapprovingly.
"Oh, don't pretend both of you haven't done it," Ourania sniffed. "Anyway, I wasn't listening it, just watching, and that's hardly the same thing."
The twins turned to their older sister, with the expectation that she would solve the dispute for them, or perhaps know something about this mysterious locket.
"I really don't know," she said, frowning. "But I guess we can always look whenever Uncle Gideon babysits next. I'll keep him busy."
Ourania made Cora shake on it, which she'd seen on a film once, and the matter was settled.
A/N: Going to Canada with MissRoseAlanaHorton today, so I prepared this chapter while I was on the train up to meet her last night. Apologies if there are typos.
Review Prompt: How do you think Harry and Kitty will choose to resolve their issue? And will it be a peace, a stalemate, or something else? (Don't wanna wait a week to find out? Ten reviews gets you a bonus!)
-C