Book III:
Chapter 14
Having been attacked twice in one day, Harry felt he deserved the rest of the day off. So after sending a note to Hermione, via a charmed paper plane, he retired to his godfathers' chambers for some much needed comfort. Werewolves were very tactile, and while Harry normally wasn't, he was happy to receive some for at least a little while. They curled up together on a large ratty couch, Harry's head in Sirius' lap as the alpha petted his hair and crooned how proud he was of him while Remus rubbed his bare feet. It was all very soothing and he envied this part of the werewolf lifestyle. All of his friends would have bulked at this much touch.
Well, Natalie might have found it charming, but she really wasn't an option right now.
"This is insane," he muttered. "Is everyone trying to kill me?"
"No, Prongslet, just the Slytherins," Sirius assured him.
Harry groaned.
"Perhaps we should have killed her," Remus pondered out loud. "We would have been justified and no one would mess with you again."
"Killer at thirteen. That's marvelous. What great heights will I have to aspire to after that? Serial killer? Terrorist? Oh, I know, I can stage a coup and take Voldemort's job and march on Germany. It'll be blast. You can be my generals."
Remus poked him in the foot, forcing out a laugh.
"I meant us, not you. It's expected of us."
"Voldemort would have killed you."
"We could just have said we thought she was trying to kill you."
"He still would have killed you." He wasn't certain if that was true, but he didn't want to risk it.
"Or worse. He could have given us her job," Sirius chuckled. Harry smiled, despite himself.
"Lets not talk about it anymore for a while. All these attacks are depressing me. Lets talk about Christmas or something."
"No Christmas for us," the alpha said, "We don't celebrate Christmas. It's a Christian holy day. Doesn't make much sense for werewolves. It's not like we'll go to heaven."
"What do you mean?"
"We don't have human souls, Harry. We're saturated with Earth magic. When we die, we'll return to the Earth like any other animal or nature spirit. No heaven or hell for us. No salvation or damnation. Just reincarnation or disembodiment."
"How do you know that?"
"Our shamans. They've been known to summon up dead alphas for guidance during times of trial. Can't do that with human souls, at least not for ones that have faith in an afterlife. You get ghosts who don't have enough faith to move on all the time. Hogwarts is full of them, but they usually crossover after a while."
"Huh, I didn't know that."
"Metaphysics is an elective for seventh years," Remus said. "I wished they'd offered it when I was at Hogwarts. They probably thought it wasn't appropriate to teach things that contradicted or categorized popular religious dogma at the time."
Harry didn't know what metaphysics nor dogma, though he figured it had to do with ghosts and spirits and might be worth looking into. There were a lot of classes he should have been looking into. New club activities too, perhaps. Like fencing (if he was going to keep calling on Gryffindor's sword he thought it prudent he learn how to actually use it) and riding (the flight on the hippogryph had proven he had a knack for it). So much had been happening though to distract him, and if he didn't get his act back together he wasn't going to pass his classes, let alone qualify for advanced ones.
Larousse popped into his head unexpectedly. She had warned him about thinking ahead and offered her aid. He suddenly wished badly that he could take up her offer, but he couldn't now. They were on opposite sides now. He with the werewolves and she with... just about every other ignorant fool out there. Funny how he kind of missed her.
Sirius tugged at tuft of his hair gently, garnering his attention. "What is it, Prongslet? You've gone quiet."
"Just thinking about the future and all. I don't know what's happening. Everything is changing so fast. My friendships are all in trouble. My school work. My life. I just need time for things to quiet down so I can sort through it all, but every time I turn around there's an attack or a friend is angry at me or wants to be my girlfriend or turns out to be a mass murderer or I can't play Quidditch but then I'm the vice captain of Dueling club or I become national news or the Headmistress tries to mind rape me."
He took a deep breath and let it out.
"Merlin, I'm tired."
His godfathers don't say anything, but Harry suspects they're sharing their patented 'concerned glance' he'll forever associate with them. Still, Sirius and Remus' hands on his hair and feet, rubbing softly, is very soothing and just airing his thoughts is cathartic. He thinks this is the safest he's felt in years.
"We could always leave," Sirius begins, "Right now. Go to Grimmuald for supplies and then take the tunnel into France. We could be out of the country within two hours, before anyone even knew you were missing."
Harry rolled over to look up at his godfather and shook his head.
"It wouldn't work. Dumbledore would kill me or Voldemort when he caught me... and I think he would. I've seen some of the things he can do. Besides, what would running away accomplish? I'd leave all my problems behind, but I'd leave almost everything important to me too. And what about you? You've got your pack and your home. There's nothing like that in Europe. They might just kill you too."
"I doubt Dumbledore would kill you if you ran away from the Dark Lord. He would probably protect you if you renounced him publicly," Sirius pointed out, ignoring the other points. Harry didn't look any more pleased about the notion.
"I wouldn't give that bastard the satisfaction. He tried to kill me. He already killed a Sentinel and tried to kill all of my teachers. Voldemort's no saint, but I don't see how he's any better."
Sirius looked ready to argue, but then stopped himself and sighed. Harry thought he understood. Dumbledore had been his leader a long time ago. Perhaps the ghost of trust still lingered.
"Alright, no extended vacation. Which is really too bad. There's a lot of good sight-seeing out there."
The alpha's gaze became somewhat glazed as he began thinking about something or other. Remus let out a warning growl.
"Pinch him, Harry, he's wandering into pervert territory. Ski bunnies most likely."
Harry just laughed.
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Harry felt better than he had in a long time when he emerged from the wolf den. He was relaxed, reassured, and resolved to fix those aspects of his life he could. He would study harder, practice harder, and work harder in general. He would ignore the gossip as unimportant, fight when he needed to, laugh when he wanted to, and somehow fix his damaged friendships. If at all possible, he'd get his godfathers to lighten up a bit so he could convince everyone that they really weren't that bad. He would even try to convince Larousse.
Extremely difficult considering he knew his godfathers wanted to kill her, but he really did want them to have a peaceful understanding. Because he didn't want to hurt her. She had done awful things, but awful things had been done to her as well. There was so much about her to admire and appreciate, things he admired and appreciated in his godfathers. Strength, confidence, conviction.
He didn't know if he could make her understand, but he thought if she could resolve some of the pain from her family's death it was possible. For both their sakes, he hoped it was possible.
Lestrange... he wasn't sure what to do about Lestrange. His first thought was to tell Snape, but Remus had pointed out that the potion's master would use the incident to his advantage, not necessarily Harry's. His second thought was to tell Larousse, but he dismissed it without giving it voice. He could just try to get in contact with Voldemort, which was the most logical choice, but...
He couldn't help but wonder what he might get out of it.
It was a dangerous thought. Lestrange had a lot to loose and there was no telling what extremes she might go to to keep Harry silent. At the same time, what might she give him for the same silence? Gryffindor's sword was currently in Sirius and Remus' den, and he really disliked the idea of returning it to the headmistress' office. This was the second time it had answered his call. It felt like it belonged to him.
Could he keep that sword and the assurance that she would never act against him again in exchange for him looking the other way? If he merely tattled and she survived she would be a potentially dangerous enemy for life.
Blackmail wasn't his forte, but the concept intrigued him. He couldn't ask Hermione. She wouldn't have approved, and he couldn't risk her going to her godfather. If she had been the one who was about to be mentally violated she might have understood his lingering resentment. That left Draco and Natalie. Also risky, but not nearly as much and perhaps he could work towards earning their forgiveness by sharing a secret with them. He sent them notes, hoping they got them before their free period ended. It was his free period as well, but there was only enough time left for him to get back to his common room and get his things for his final class of the day.
Everyone looked surprised when he rushed into Astrology, bare moments before class was to begin and took his seat by Hermione. Sirius and Remus strode in easily behind him and settled themselves into the dark corners at the back of the room.
"Oh, Mr. Potter. I see you're feeling better," Professor Sinistra said, blinking curiously at him.
Harry suddenly realized he hadn't thought of an excuse for why he was absent so Hermione must have made up one for him.
"Um... yeah. I feel a lot better. It wasn't as bad as I thought."
"That's good. Alright class, today we're going to be studying Leap Year Effects. Was anybody here born on a leap year? No, what about..."
While the professor was distracted, Harry quickly scribbled a note and passed it to Hermione.
'What am I feeling better from?'
She scribbled in response: 'migraine'. He could work with that. Of course, he might appear more believable if he didn't look so damn chipper. He took notes, answered and asked questions, and generally made it a point not to think about anything more serious than what was for dinner. Even the odd looks and whispers he was getting weren't enough to throw his mood.
After class, Hermione pulled him aside, looking worried.
"Are you alright, Harry? Headmistress Lestrange summoned you to her office and then you sent me that note. I was worried she'd punished you some how."
"I'm sorry I worried you, but I'm fine. I even managed to get one up on her. I just needed the time to sort myself out. Things are pretty good really."
She didn't look particularly convinced.
"You didn't eat or drink or touch anything in her office did you?"
He knew what she was really asking, and knew he hadn't been bespelled so he lied.
"Of course not. Well, I sat in the chair, but that's it. Sirius and Remus were with me through the entire thing. Don't worry, nothing happened."
Still skeptical, but she had nothing else to question him with.
"Okay," she said, "Then lets go to the library. You can copy my runes notes. You missed a good lecture there. Professor Keigle just started on elemental rune combinations."
"Sounds fascinating, but I want to finish my conversation with Draco. You go ahead and get started, and I'll join you as soon as I'm done. Yeah?"
"Alright, but be careful. I'd hate for another Barlow to send you to the infirmary for real."
"Secret passageways and notice-me-not charms it is. I'll see you in bit."
"Bye, Harry."
Draco was in the same room they'd met in before lunch, but Natalie was no where in sight. He supposed he should have expected that. Ron was blessedly absent.
"Now whats happened?" the young Malfoy demanded when Harry walked in. "Are you suspended?"
"Of course not. That... woman can't do anything without Voldemort's okay first, but she tried something else and now I need your advice."
Draco crossed his arms, trying to look annoyed but Harry could see he was curious. He could practically hear the gears grinding and ticking behind the Slytherin's eyes.
"... And since you've left Hermione behind I'm assuming it's the sort of advice only a Slytherin can provide? What's in it for me?"
"Perhaps you can tell me."
Harry told Draco about what had happened in the office, minus the part where he had stolen the Sword of Gryffindor, and then asked if he couldn't get something out of it. By the end Draco was looking at him with a mixture of horror and awe and amusement.
"You nearly killed my Aunt Bella?"
Of his eclectic mix of feelings, humor was ironically the tone that stood out.
"You're mad. She's going to kill you. Merlin, she's going to kill me if she finds out you told me. Why didn't you tell Snape about this?"
"What good would that do me? He'd just tell the Dark Lord, and then Lestrange would blame me for whatever happens after that. I don't think I can deal with another crazy person coming after me right now, Draco. I just want to keep her out of my hair for the rest of my stay here... and maybe have her look the other way if something questionable happens."
Draco shook his head in exasperation, but took several minutes to think it over. At last, he seemed to have an idea.
"We should tell my father."
"What? What's that going to do?"
"No, no, listen. We're both just kids. Yeah, we're pretty tough compared to most of the other pixie-brains walking around here and you did alright for yourself in Lestrange's office, but do you really think either of us stand a chance at outmaneuvering her for long do you? She's very powerful and has a lot more experience. She's even managed to outfox Snape occasionally. The only person I know who can play the game better than either of them is my father."
"What would he care? I mean, she's his sister-in-law. Wouldn't he side with her?"
Draco made a rude noise.
"Of course not. Her name is Lestrange, not Malfoy, and as far as he is concerned she's just another rival for the Dark Lord's attention. He'll be happy to have a little dirt on her."
"I don't know, Draco. How does this help protect me?"
"Simple, the secret only hold power if the Dark Lord doesn't know about it. So in order to keep you from telling the Dark Lord yourself, he'll have to protect you from Lestrange."
"What's to keep him from just telling Voldemort everything the moment we tell him?"
"Nothing to gain. Snape wants to be headmaster so he's all for getting her sacked, but my father doesn't get anything other than a pat on the head if he tattles. He outranks her already."
Harry considered it. He wasn't sure he felt comfortable trusting this secret to Draco's rather sinister father, the same man who made Hermione miserable. But Draco was looking uncharacteristically eager, as if it were marvelous game he finally considered old enough to play. If nothing else, perhaps this would be his way of making amends with his friend.
"Alright, contact your father. You better be right about this."
Draco actually laughed.
"Harry, I promise you won't regret it!"
Of course, both boys knew Slytherin promises weren't worth making.
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Natalie caught Harry just outside of the library, and ignoring his bodyguards, immediately dragged him behind column. She had wanted to ignore him altogether after learning the note she'd received was for both her and Draco, but the young Gryffindor was a treasure trove of unexpected ideas and happenings and if she didn't find out what he wanted her curiosity would be burning. Especially after learning about his supposed attack on Sasha and his summons to the headmistress' office. She really wanted a clear understanding of what really happened there.
"So what did you want?" she said impatiently.
"Natalie, why didn't you come before?" he said, disconcerted and checking the corridor for eavesdroppers (other than his godfathers).
"My life doesn't revolve around your convenience, Harry. I had other things to do. Now what do you want?"
He shook his head. "Forget it, it's already taken care of."
That hurt. She didn't know why, but him having gotten what he wanted from someone else hurt. Hiding her pain in a veneer of irritation she made to stalk off, but he took her hand and quickly pulled her back.
"Wait, wait. I don't just want to talk to get something out of you. I do like just being with you, you know?" he said, pleadingly.
"Do you now? I wonder about that, Harry, I really do," she snapped, and he had to pull her back again.
"Please don't run off mad again. I tried to tell you last time, I'd love to be your boyfriend. I think you're smart and funny and pretty and kind of scary, but in a good way."
She smirked a little at that, but quickly hid it.
"But I don't want you to get hurt. Okay? I mean first there's Moody, which was bad enough, but now there's that Dumbledore guy and half of Slytherin wants me dead or maimed. If any of them knew you were with me, what's to keep them from hurting you instead? You don't have bodyguards or a Dark Lord watching your back. Do you see? I don't want you to get hurt because of me."
It was possibly the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her, but she couldn't just accept it without a little more resistance.
"Oh, yeah? What about your other friends? Draco? Clyde? Hell, what about Hermione? Half the school thinks you guys are an item."
"Hermione's got her family watching her back and it's only the dumber half that thinks we're a couple. And besides, do you really think I'd have any luck at convincing her to keep her distance? She'd just lecture me for week. Clyde's always surrounded by other Gryffindors when he's not hanging around with us. Please, don't be mad at me."
Natalie rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Alright, but you're my date for the Malfoy Christmas party."
Harry looked startled and then panicked.
"What? I already told you, I don't want-"
"Well, I don't care what you want," she interrupted, walking out from the darkened corner. "I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. If you don't want anyone to know, just act like it's a popularity thing. You know, taking the prettiest girl in the school to the ball just to make everyone jealous. It'll be fun."
She did a dramatic hair flip and wink, and he nearly laughed but quickly got control of himself.
"Natalie..." he said, his pleading dissolving into something more authoritative, which she happily ignored as she strode between the two werewolves. They watched her intently but she ignored the feeling of vulnerability and kept her pace.
"And I want a corsage. I'm wearing white," she called over her shoulder.
"Natalie!"
She looked back and grinned, putting a finger to her mouth and warned him to be quiet. When she was out of sight, she let out a thrilled little giggle. Okay, that probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. He was right about putting her in danger, but she was no damsel. She fully expected some nasty, but intriguing things to happen.
After all, what's the fun in loving a prince who doesn't have a few dragons to slay?
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Wednesday morning had dawned with fresh snowfall in the South of Britain, covering most of England in a clean white blanket. The streets and sidewalks had been trodden into dirty slush along the busier shopping districts, but along the back alleys and side streets everything remained placid and scenic.
Larousse's boots crunched softly as she walked, the only sound the snow didn't seem to swallow as she made her way down Snigget Street. The row of narrow store fronts on either side of her were dark or boarded up, but for a handful of stubborn shops hanging lanterns and half-dead holly and evergreens from their awnings and on the dirty windows as testament to their continuation. Once upon a time the area had been a booming shopping district, but too many battles had run through there during the war and too many people had died there for the living to ever feel comfortable.
It was the perfect sort of place for conspirators to meet.
She finally came to a shop with chipped green paint and light streaming from the window. She brushed the snow from the sign.
Madam Longbottom's Medicinal Teas and Cordials
Visitors Welcome
This was it. She stepped inside, a little bell announcing her presence as she entered. The shop was surprisingly warm and welcoming. The counter to her right had poinsettia and a rather glum looking toad in a Santa hat, and the smell of baking cookies rose above the scent of herbs and spices. Old laterns from the ceiling illuminated open boxes of dried plants, mosses, medicinal stones, racks of mortars and pestles, bottles of oil, antique tea sets, and instructional books. It looked very much like an apothecary without animal parts.
"Hello? Madam Longbottom? Is anybody here?"
There was a sound from the back, behind a curtain of beads, followed by a deep scratchy voice.
"Jus' a moment, please." A short pause, then. "Would you like a cookie?"
"That would be delightful," she said sincerely, for the cookies really did smell wonderful. A few more shuffling sounds and a squat old woman ambled out with a tray of cookies and milk. Larousse took stock of her quickly, noting the keen look in her eye and strength in her large hands. There didn't appear to be anyone else in the store, and even if it wasn't busy she thought Augusta Longbottom must be quite active to run it by herself.
"Ah, a new customer. I don't get very many of those. How can I help you?" she said, looking intent. She wasn't very smiley, but one bite of her almond fig offering made up for it, Larousse thought.
"Well, I have a friend who mentioned this shop to me a few days ago. Said you have a good reputation."
The old woman nodded, but there was a bit of skepticism there.
"And would I know this friend?"
"Yes, though you probably don't like him much. Head Sentinel Morgan," she said, taking a sip of her milk to cover how intently she watching the old woman's reaction. There was a definite stiffening of her shoulders and darkening of her expression, but nothing particularly suspicious.
"You're a sentinel?"
Larousse laughed. "No, no. Of course not. I'm a professor. I teach up at Hogwarts."
The old woman didn't react at first, but then slowly seemed to relax.
"Oh? How does a professor meet the head of national security?" she said conversationally.
"The same way a tea shop lady might, I suppose. Lot of nasty business up there lately. Lot of nosy questions about ones political associations, if you know what I mean. Well, we've seen each other enough that we've managed to get along. I met with him a few days ago for a news conference, got to talking about holiday shopping of all things, and he mentioned this place."
She snorted.
"I'm surprised he'd go recommended the shop of a traitor. He was quite adamant that he was going to shut me down for harboring a fugitive. I mean honestly. A little old thing like me holding a murderer in my attic? Ridiculous."
"Yes, he felt pretty silly for suggesting it afterwards. Potter actually laughed when he overheard us. Cheeky little bugger."
Longbottom looked very curious about that.
"You mean Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? The child the paper is making all this fuss about?"
"Oh, yes. Nice boy, first in my class, but something of a troublemaker. You meet all sorts working in Hogwarts."
"I don't doubt it, dearie. What do you teach?"
"History of Magic."
They gossiped and chatted idly for almost an hour, and by the end of it Larousse felt the only thing she'd gotten out of the whole thing was a nice carrot flavored tea to help relieve Severus' eye strain and a tummy ache from eating too many sweets. Morgan had been right. Whatever trouble Madam Longbottom might have gotten herself into during the war had obviously left her resigned to quieter pursuits. She owned her little shop with a small but loyal following of customers to keep it afloat, kept mostly to herself, baking cookies for grandnieces and nephews for the holidays. A few discreetly cast detection charms had revealed no hidden fugitives, secret rooms, illegal contraband, or weaponry.
She was just a tea shop owner, and Larousse was running out of leads. Scrounging after the sentinel's leftover suspects was a long shot to begin with, but the chance of her succeeding in finding Moody before Morgan was a long shot to begin with. It was a stupid bargain to make with the Dark Lord, but what else did she have? She doubted her virtue held as much value as the wizard had implied, and if she had succumb there was no telling if he might not expose her indiscretion to Severus and then she'd really be lost or use it as leverage to do some other unsavory tasks. She was not rich or powerful. She had only her wits and her wand to get her what she wanted.
Now all she needed was lucky break.
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Augusta Longbottom smiled easily as the pretty young woman left the shop, feeling quite proud of herself. She was afraid she came off as a little too interested at first, but had played it off as typical gossipy-ness of old women. She nibbled on her cookie and thought about what she should do next. This Vesper was definitely worth looking into, but she might also be bait. A sentinel is disguise. It wouldn't be the first time they had tried that technique. Still, if they could do it...
She pulled out a piece of paper and started writing. If this woman was who she said she was, then she had a much better chance of getting a hold of Potter than Quick ever did. She needed confirmation first. The sentinels were much too alert for them to make any mistakes this far into the game. This needed to be perfect.
'Dear Ladybug...'
