A/N. The only good part of being sick is having more time to write! Yay! (Cough, hack, snot...) Anyway, have another update. Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, you're welcome for writing, and goodnight!
Chapter 54
Arya wasn't certain whether to be relieved or chagrined that her ominous and mysterious watcher now seemed to be no more than an overly stealthy babysitting detail.
She had thought over her discovery dozens of times, and could come up with no other solution. If Snape wanted to hurt her, he'd had amble opportunity during the last school year and had never tried, unless one counted a few nasty glares as violence.
She'd confided a bit to Hermione, who she thought she could trust not to look Snape directly in the eyes and think loudly about it. Hermione had worked her way to the same conclusion that Arya had; Snape must be following her movements in order to guard her, after that first Quidditch match that had almost ended with Arya splatted on pitch. She should have guessed after that that she wouldn't be allowed out of sight of one protective adult or another, and was half surprised that she never saw a dot with the name 'Sirius Black' guarding the door to her dorms at night.
Perhaps if someone had taken the time to explain the danger to her, she would have agreed to stay safe in her dorms at night, but no – she was being followed instead. The whole situation smelled of something Dumbledore would think up; she was not being restricted from poking her nose in the secret affairs going on at the castle, she was simply being protected from a distance as she did so. It was as if the headmaster wished to allow her to stretch her metaphorical legs on her own. He didn't let her in on any information, but nor did he stop her from finding out. And she was certain that Snape was acting according to Dumbledore's orders, otherwise Snape would have simply stuffed her in a safe corner and told her mind her own business.
The whole mess was infuriating, - and provoking.
Dumbledore must know that she had figured out the basics, and did nothing to stop her. Didn't that indicate that he wanted her to continue on? He had wanted her to work out the information about the hallows, all those years ago. He hadn't told her about the hurcruxes, but he'd never really reprimanded her for figuring that out either… She was left feeling confused.
She wished she could simply speak to the headmaster, but she had only ever seen him up at the head table over the last year.
She had grown to like him, to look up to him as he'd taught her and guided her before she'd started school, and now he hardly looked at her as she passed him in the great hall. He hadn't even stopped by for Christmas! Perhaps he felt the need to not show favoritism to her now that she was of school age, but just because she understood his reasoning didn't mean she couldn't miss him. She wanted some direction.
It was Saturday morning, and the sun was high enough in the sky to shine along the waters of the lake, wind causing the surface to rise in multitudes of tiny ripples, sparkling and shifting as she ran. It had rained on and off for the last week, and her feet splatted wetly with each stride. Mud had splattered up her legs from the impact, and her breath puffed out in short bursts; this was a longer run than she normally did. Arya thought better when she was moving. Some combination of the cool spring air and the tired ache in her muscles helped clear her mind and increase her focus.
Dumbledore wanted her to stretch out on her own. Splat, - her foot smacked the muddy trail. Snape would be one step behind her to keep her safe. Splat. Someone at Hogwarts was after the stone. Splat splat. Arya was going to find out whom.
Arya grinned slightly to herself as she reached that resolution. She wasn't even going to feel bad about poking her nose around anymore; Dumbledore had practically given her permission.
She increased her speed despite her protesting lungs and a stitch in her side. If she hurried she could catch Hagrid for a spot of tea before breakfast, and attempt to pick his brain about the philosopher's stone. He hadn't greeted her on her runs for several days. She wondered if the sorry business with the injured unicorns was keeping him too occupied to want to entertain company, but she was sure the incidents were connected somehow to the stone, and she wanted to find out if he'd learned anything new. She rounded a bend in the path and Hagrid's cabin came into view, the smoke from the chimney indicating that he was still inside.
She began to slow down, and as she shortened her strides, her right foot came down hard, sinking into a deeper patch of muck as the trail began a short decline; her foot stuck and she jerked off-balance, her trainer pulling free from the ground with the sound of a wet plunger being pulled out of a toilet. She swung her left foot around in an attempt to keep her balance, and instead of that one getting stuck, it slipped out from underneath her down the incline. She yelped loudly as she went down, twisting as she'd been taught to break a fall. She got her forearms out in front of her to absorb the worst of the impact, and rolled as she hit.
Tonks had made her practice falling dozens of times, and Arya had done as she was told. Tonks was, after all, an expert at falling down.
Unfortunately for her, her left leg had slid out sideways as if she was attempting to do the splits mid stride, and as she came to a halt on her back on the muddy ground, a searing pain from her inner thigh told her all was not well.
Arya groaned and turned her head to the side, spitting out a large lock of muddy red hair that had found its way into her mouth as she'd hit and rolled. She let her head fall back to the ground with a splat, and took stock of the pain; her arms stung a bit from the impact, her neck felt tense from her head jerking around, and the pain in her left leg hadn't diminished. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and prodded at her leg experimentally. Nothing seemed to be broken, though she wouldn't have been able to see any bruising under the muck adhered to her skin if it had been.
Likely she'd pulled a muscle in her thigh before even hitting the ground. She grumbled, gently easing up until she was standing, putting all of her weight onto her good leg, and spitting off to the side again. Her mouth still tasted like muck.
So long to her focus and clarity of mind, she thought, hobbling toward Hagrid's hut at a shambling pace. Perhaps she now looked like some type of magical mud monster that Hagrid would want to study; she could pry for information while he tried to determine her species. She grinned at the thought, and then grimaced and spat to the side again.
Did that mud taste a bit like rotten fish? Merlin, the overflow from the lake had probably contributed to that puddle. Gross.
By the time Arya got to Hagrid's front door, she'd found a large stick to help her wobble along, and had determined to be outraged that students weren't taught even the basics of healing at Hogwarts. The reasoning was the medical spells could only be practiced on humans, and the chances of mishaps were too high to teach underage witches and wizards; healing was a specialization to be pursued after completing school and coming of age.
That reasoning had sounded firm when she'd first been told that, but she was now having second thoughts, - She was eleven, and had at her fingertips dozens of spells that could do plenty of damage by intent. Healing at least had the chance of doing good if performed correctly, and all magic was dangerous. She was going to order some healing books as soon as she got back to her dorms. If no one wanted to teach her, she'd teach herself.
She raised a fist and pounded loudly on Hagrid's door. There was no answer. She tried to peer in the window, but the curtains were pulled tightly closed. She suddenly felt worried; was Hagrid sick?
"Hagrid?" she called loudly, pounding on the door again. "Are you alright in there?" still no answer.
"Hagrid, I took a fall on my run and pulled something, I could really use your help…" Hagrid might not open the door if he was in trouble, but he had a heart the size of, well, a giant. No way would he leave her injured on his doorstep.
She was proven correct as the door swung open a second later, Hagrid's concerned face looming above her.
"Ary? Wha happened, you alright?" He took in her bedraggled appearance, and then proceeded to actually scoop her up off the ground, surprisingly gentle for his enormous size. She was deposited into a chair a moment later, Hagrid brandishing his pink umbrella that Arya had always suspected contained his wand. The mud fell off her in dried flakes until she was practically clean, and Hagrid swept them out the door by creating a breeze. "Yeh said you think yeh pulled somethin'? Where does it hurt? Might have to get yeh to the hospital wing, I ain't so good with healin' anything human, mind you."
Now that the mud was gone, Arya could see bruises forming on her arms and knees, but they didn't look bad. The ground had been rather soft, after all.
"I think I just pulled a muscle in my leg." She rubbed at her thigh, "It mostly just hurts to move it, and now that I'm holding still it feels better."
Hagrid grunted, inspecting her for signs of anything more serious. She lifted her knee up, and winced. Yep, definitely pulled a muscle.
"Ar', tha's alright then. Madame Pomfry will fix that up right quick. Yeh sure gave me a scare though, showin up lookin' like you'd crawled through the lake."
He shook his head at her and began fixing her a cup of tea, acting like he hadn't been ignoring her at the door now that she was inside. Arya nodded and wiped a drop of sweat off of her forehead; it was hot inside the cabin. A large fire was crackling in the hearth, despite the Spring day outside being only cool.
Hagrid set a hot cup of tea in front of her, and she wiped another streak of sweat from her face. Perhaps she was just acclimating from outside.
"Thanks Hagrid, I owe you. I think I was wearing half the mud of the grounds."
She took a sip of tea and regretted it immediately. She fanned a hand in front of her face, feeling flushed. Maybe it wasn't just her; Hagrid was in short sleeves and had his hair pulled back off his neck.
"Couldn't crack a window, could you? Feels like dragon's breath in here."
Hagrid, oddly, jumped in his seat and glanced guiltily at the fire before regaining his composure.
"Er, nah… I've been liking it warmer in here." He wiped a large drop of sweat with the back of his hand as it dripped into his eyes, and Arya stared at him incredulously. Something very odd was going on here.
Hagrid was a dear friend, and an absolute genius with all types of creatures, but he was an abysmal actor.
Arya forced herself to slurp her steaming tea as Hagrid made nervous chit-chat, and refrained from pressing him for information on the unicorns or the stone, as he was obviously uncomfortable about something already. He offered to carry her back up to the castle, but she shook her head. He instead trimmed her large walking stick down to a more appropriate size, and Arya stood up gingerly to go.
Hagrid looked eager to be rid of her, and placed himself between her and the fire as he handed the staff over, practically shooing her towards the door. Arya accepted the staff and made as if to leave, but instead stumbled and then hopped as if to regain her balance, rounding an armchair blocking her view of the hearth, and then freezing.
Hagrid groaned, twisting his hands in fret.
"By Merlin's sweaty handkerchief, Hagrid, is that a Dragon's egg?"
Spring had always been Sirius's favorite season, but he had never, in all his life, partook in that seasonal activity that seemed to be so popular among both muggles and magical people all over the world, - namely gardening.
He knelt in the springy wet ground in front of his new house, taking bulbs of various plants from a basket that Kreacher was holding next to him, and sticking them hap-hazardly into the ground. Why on earth had he let Remus talk him into this again?
"You have your own lawn now, Sirius," Sirius mimicked under his breath, "it'll be good for you, Sirius, get you outdoors Sirius, away from all those reports, Sirius, just like you want! It's great for your mental health, Sirius, just give it a try!"
Sirius jabbed a gnarled and bulbous type of root that reminded him of Mad-eye's face into the ground and lumped a mound of dirt over it. He shuffled along to the right, Kreacher keeping a step behind him with the basket. Not too long ago, the elf would have either been gleeful or horrified to see his master rooting around in the dirt like a muggle gardener, but he had become accustomed to Sirius's odd behavior.
Kreacher was delivering his reports as he picked his way through the dirt behind Sirius, a long suffering but fond expression on his inhuman features. The change in the elf from years ago was truly something to be marveled at; he seemed almost a different person than either the cold, cruel figure from Sirius's childhood, or the mad, neglected creature he had found inhabiting Grimauld Place after being freed from prison.
The symbiotic bond between a house elf and his master was something Sirius had never given consideration to before he'd begun to notice the drastic changes to Kreacher as he'd served Sirius. It was hard to remember that he couldn't treat the elf as he would a human; a human he could blame for his treatment of him as a child, but an elf… Elves, if treated and cared for by their human families, took on their beliefs and became entirely loyal to them. Sirius's mother, in her own disturbed way, had treated Kreacher well. He was the perfect servant, unlike her children, and she had pampered him as one might a pet dog. It had been disturbing, and Sirius still felt an occasional surge of hatred for Kreacher sometimes, unable to keep the visceral emotions down when he recalled his childhood.
But Kreacher had changed as he'd served Sirius, the madness that being alone for so long had caused had faded, and the elf's crazed rantings had slowly ceased. He could now be heard repeating things Sirius had told him, echoing beliefs that would have horrified him while he'd served his mother.
A symbiotic relationship… Elves provided service, and the human families provided structure and care. It made him wonder about the wizarding families that abused their elves.
If a human provided abuse and neglect instead of structure and care, then the relationship between master and servant became parasitic instead of symbiotic. Wizarding lore was scattered with stories of ills befalling those who mistreated their elves, - Sirius had always taken them for moral parables. Now he wondered if there was more to it than that, if the elves that were poorly treated had in fact caused their master's downfalls.
An elf's magic was tied up in the bond between them and their masters, but they couldn't be forced to talk about it. Most wizards didn't give elf magic a second thought, why would they? They were mere servants.
Sirius smiled as he used his wand to create another row of holes. What a giant gap in wizarding understanding.
"What of the Malfoys?" Sirius asked, "Have you been able to follow their movements at the ministry?"
"A little, Master Sirius," Kreacher croaked in his deep voice, "they appear to be laying low for the time being. They may have gotten word that the department of Magical Law Enforcement means to begin raids in a few months. Lucious has made inquiries about various prices of magical artifacts to some of his old connections. Things of an unsavory nature."
"And you still can't enter the Manor?"
"No, Master Sirius. Their own elf protects them from my prying, though I doubt they are aware of the protection he provides for them." He sounded subtly angry, though Sirius wasn't sure if it was because he had failed to penetrate the protection on the manor or because the Malfoys undoubtedly abused their elf. "I will keep an eye out for an opening, if you wish."
"I do. What of Umbridge?"
"It is as you surmised before, Master Sirius. She works through a network of employees that she has either bought or threatened into submission. She claims to be working for the benefit of the minister, though often her schemes appear to be unknown to him. She is determined to undermine and discredit Alastar Moody; she works to provoke his suspicion and leaves him hints of threats from various sources, but never acts. The method is… effective. Moody reacts, and then nothing happens. She then draws attention to his apparently erratic and paranoid behavior. He is beginning to lose influence in the Auror department, and if nothing is done it is likely that he will be forced into retirement sooner rather than later."
Sirius sucked in a breath, impressed despite himself; That was downright devious. Sirius sent a patronous to fetch Tonks from the house across the lawn, seeing the need to alert Tonks of the situation before it could progress farther. Moody was erratic enough on his own without provocation.
Tonks strolled out to meet him a few moments later, looking as if she'd just crawled out of bed. Apparently he and Kreacher were the only ones crazy enough to be up before eight on a Saturday. Perhaps he could have let her sleep in on her day off…
"Wotcher, Sirius." She yawned, "Couldn't have waited a few more hours? I was having I right good snuggle when your dog burst through the door." She eyed Kreacher. "Fetch me a cup of tea?" she tried.
Kreacher gave her the side eye treatment and didn't obey. He was supposed to be bound to obey anyone in the family as long as they didn't contradict Sirius's orders, but he never obeyed Tonks.
She sighed, "Well, it was worth a shot." she smothered another yawn.
Sirius filled her in on the situation with Moody, and she became alert immediately, digging for all the details. Sirius had Kreacher give her all the names involved and the individual actions taken, and Tonks began to look furious.
"How dare they…" she muttered, "He's the best bloody Auror in the department and that smarmy toad wants him gone. She must guess that we're onto her, Sirius. I'm too junior to be much of a threat, but he could bring her down, that's why she's after him. I have to go fill him in." She began to turn away. "Thanks for getting me, tell Remus I should be home for lunch!"
Tonks strode toward the road to cross the wards to apparate, all traces of sleepiness gone. Sirius could almost pity the toad, but… no. After some consideration he decided he couldn't pity her at all.
Kreacher finished his reports and waited to be dismissed for the day, but Sirius paused, sitting back on his heels in the dirt.
"Kreacher, I'm not angry, but… Why is it that you don't obey Dora? I know Andromeda was disowned, but so was I and that hasn't mattered."
Kreacher was silent for a moment, and Sirius wondered if his question had strayed into the elf magic that Kreacher couldn't be compelled to talk about.
"The bond of obedience is between an elf and his human family, Master Sirius." He finally said. "The changeling has no hold on me." Sirius looked into Kreacher's dark, inhuman eyes, and nodded slowly. "May I be dismissed, Master Sirius?"
Sirius nodded again, and Kreacher disappeared with a crack that rent the cool spring air. Sirius sat still for a long moment, looking to where Tonks had vanished across the property line, off to warn her mentor of the plots being hatched against him.
Changeling, Kreacher had called her.
That, Sirius decided, turning back to his planting, was one bit of information he wasn't ever going to bring up again.
A/N. It occurs to me that not everyone shares my interest or knowledge in mythology and folklore, so I'll add an aside here. A changeling was thought to be a infant that was switched at birth with a fay child, and there are various versions and exlpanations as to why this is. I don't necessarily mean to say that Tonks was switched at birth,- I think the possibilities are endless in the mixing of magical soceity and the muggle world throughout history.
What fairy tales, mythologies, and religions were brought about by wizards and witches, and various magical creatures indeverantly mixing with muggles? A shape-shifter witch or wizard born to muggle parents could have been the very origin of the changelings of folklore. And if your very shape and blood can change on a whim or a mood, than what are your blood ties to your parents? Not there, really.
Andromeda and Ted are her parents, but I always wondered why J.K added that bit of information about Kreacher not obeying Tonks in book five, and that was part of my reasoning for adding this part.
