"You're not going," Padfoot said, considering Harry's extended hand for a moment before he set the mirror into it.
"Obviously," McGonagall snapped, giving Harry a look that dared him to protest. Harry almost did anyway; he was in no hurry to walk into what was obviously a trap, but he wasn't about to leave Ron and Hermione with Wormtail either. For them, he'd go - what other option was there? "The question is, who do we send?"
"Not Harry," Padfoot said firmly.
"No one is suggesting we send Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, and Padfoot seemed to relax.
"Harry is," Harry muttered. As one, the teachers, Dora and Padfoot all turned to stare - and in Padfoot and McGonagall's case, glare - at him. "What other options are there?"
"I'll go," Ginny said, into the tense silence. "Wormtail doesn't want an Auror or a teacher, but Harry can't go, because he's Harry." Harry scowled, and Ginny noticed. "Ron's my brother," she told him, her chin coming up. "I have as much right to rescue him as you do."
"He said he wouldn't be there if any other staff or students came," Harry said, and Ginny's eyebrows creased, but before either of them could say any more, McGonagall spoke first, tone furious:
"Neither of you will be doing any rescuing!"
"Gryffindors," both Snape and Moody muttered.
"I don't want to go," Harry said, and Padfoot snorted. "But we can't-" If anyone noticed his voice breaking on the last word, no one said anything about it. "-leave Hermione and Ron-"
"Harry," Padfoot said, not unkindly, "shut up. I don't suppose you have any Polyjuice Potion around the place?" Padfoot glanced around the office. Hope flared in Harry's chest, and then wilted a bit; if there was Polyjuice, he wouldn't have to go, but someone would. Would it be Padfoot, Dora? One of the teachers? Snape shook his head, as did Moody.
"No Polyjuice," Dora said, grinning, "but I can do one better…" And her face began to change into Harry's. She shot up an inch or two, her hair grew untidy, and Harry watched in rather morbid fascination as a familiar scar split her forehead. Moody nodded in approval. Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I just need the glasses and your uniform - for the scent."
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. Dora planted her hands on her hips in a way that Harry didn't think he'd ever done in his life. "The baby, Dora…" Padfoot, who'd looked relieved for half a second, looked stricken at the reminder.
"The baby and I will be fine," she said, with a bit too much confidence for it to be genuine. "We'll take Mad-Eye's cloak, make the swap, and this'll all be over by dinner. Besides, I don't hear anyone with any better ideas."
"He won't let you make the swap, though," Harry said. "It's a trap, it must be, otherwise why would he ask for me, if not to talk or- or-?"
"Because - and no offence, Potter - you're the only one here he's got a chance of beating," Moody said.
"In a fair fight," Padfoot muttered, "but it won't be fair, this is Wormtail."
"All the more reason, then," McGonagall said.
"Not necessarily," Snape said. "Potter has a habit of being notoriously lucky in extenuating circumstances-"
"We're not relying on luck," Padfoot snapped, and Snape - surprisingly - made a placating gesture.
"The only thing we are doing," Dora said, "is wasting time."
Harry and Padfoot gave in with rather ill grace; Padfoot transfigured a bit of string into a pair of glasses that were identical to Harry's - except Dora could actually see through them - and a house elf was summoned with a fresh set of robes. Harry and Dora went to the nearest bathroom to change - Harry into the new set, Dora into the ones Harry had been wearing, in the hopes that Harry's scent would add to the effectiveness of her disguise. There wasn't much she could do about the slight bulge of her belly, but the school robes did a decent job of hiding it.
When they arrived back, McGonagall had left to take Ginny back to the Gryffindor common room, Moody was in the corridor, talking to what sounded like Marlene and Robards through his Sidekick, and Dumbledore and Padfoot were on their feet while Snape loomed in the corner by the bookshelf.
"Nymphadora-" Dora twitched but didn't protest. "-will need your wand, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. It made sense, of course - the less reason Wormtail had to question Dora-as-Harry, the better, but Harry still felt oddly bereft as he passed it over.
Dora gave it an experimental flick, and a quill on McGonagall's desk turned into a long, green leaf. She nodded.
"How do I look?"
Padfoot studied her critically, glanced at Harry, then back at Dora, then ruffled her hair to mess it up further, and told her to scowl more. Harry scowled, then realised he was only furthering Padfoot's point and stopped. Padfoot sniffed her twice, then had Harry pat her hair and arms and face to try to get as much of his scent onto her as possible.
"I can still tell them apart," Padfoot said, when Harry was done. "But I doubt many other people could." He hung Moody's cloak over her arm. "Mirror?" he asked, looking at Harry. Harry passed that over to Dora as well. "Do you have your Sidekick?" She patted her pocket, nodding. "And you know where you're going?"
"I'm not that old," she said, rolling her eyes.
"All right," Padfoot said, reluctantly. "We'll walk with you for some of the way, then we've got to go to Dumbledore's office to set up the portkey wards." He must have seen the look on Harry's face. "It shouldn't take long," he said. "You'll wait here with Snape." Snape's expression was stiff.
Padfoot held out something long and thin out to Harry, as Dora and Dumbledore stepped out into the corridor.
Harry recognised his dad's old wand. Snape seemed to as well, because his lip curled but he kept any opinions he might have had to himself.
"I grabbed it with the cloak," Padfoot said, looking grimly amused, "figuring one of us would end up without a wand. Can't say I'm thrilled to be right..."
Harry curled his fingers around it, feeling far better now about having given his wand up to Dora.
Then Padfoot squeezed his shoulder and left, and Harry sat down under Snape's watchful eye to wait and hope.
"-do hope Harry and Severus have kept civil tongues," Dumbledore said, as they returned to McGonagall's office at a brisk pace.
"I don't care if they have or haven't," Sirius said, "as long as Harry's still there when we get back." He didn't actually think Harry would try to go off alone - if nothing else, he'd be putting Dora at risk - but then again, it was Harry. Still, Snape wouldn't hesitate to hex him if he did try to go off, and he wasn't likely to be gentle about it.
Sure enough, as soon as they were within what must have been earshot, Harry stepped out into the corridor, and Sirius heard a chair scrape and Snape say, "Potter, sit d-"
But Harry's shoulders sagged ever so slightly at the sight of them - Sirius thought it was both relief and disappointment - and a moment later, Snape stepped out and noticed them as well. He stalked back into the office, but Harry waited. He was nervous, Sirius could smell it.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"The wards have been adjusted," Dumbledore said.
"Where are the others?" Sirius asked.
"Moody's-"
"Professor Moody, Harry," Dumbledore said gently.
"Right," Harry said. "Sorry. He's gone to see if he can follow Dora through the walls." Harry gestured toward his eye. "And M- Professor-" Harry glanced at Dumbledore, whose beard twitched. "-McGonagall's still taking Ginny, I think."
Sirius' ears pricked at the sound of footsteps at the same time as Harry spun to look down the corridor.
Thunk, went Mad Eye's leg, then just a normal footstep, then thunk again. Lighter footsteps wove in and out, and then Dora and Mad Eye came around the corner together. There was no one else with them. Dora's furious, worried expression was wholly hers, though she still looked like Harry.
"He knew I wasn't Harry without even coming to meet me," she said, digging Harry's wand and mirror out of her borrowed robes, and passing them over to him.
"What?" Sirius asked, as they stepped back into the office. Dora tossed Mad-Eye's cloak down onto the desk beside Harry's. "How-"
"The portraits?" Dumbledore asked, concerned.
"The Map," she said, rubbing a hand over her face.
"What?!" Sirius hissed.
"Map?" Snape asked cautiously. Sirius and Harry exchanged a look.
"Ron had it," Harry said grimly, then looked to Dumbledore. "Sir, if he's searched Ron, then he's probably searched Hermione. If he's found her-" Harry's eyes slid over Dora and Sirius, who arched an eyebrow at his godson. "-necklace…"
"A troubling thought indeed," Dumbledore murmured.
"What necklace?" Sirius demanded, at the same time as Mad-Eye said, "I thought the students weren't meant to know about that."
"Potter's rather good at knowing things he shouldn't," Snape drawled, and Harry fidgeted guiltily under the scrutiny of Mad-Eye's magical eye. Sirius looked at Dora, who just shrugged to say she didn't know either.
"Naturally," Dumbledore said, giving Harry an almost fond look. "Nymphadora, can we assume you spoke with Pettigrew?"
"He wants to speak to Harry again - the real Harry," she added, a little sourly, and nodded at the mirror in Harry's hands.
"He knew you weren't you through the mirror?" Sirius asked.
She nodded unhappily and said, "Dunno if he recognised where I was and matched it to the Map, or if it was the way I spoke, but he knew." Sirius gritted his teeth.
"Sirius Black," Harry said into the mirror, and Sirius reached for it, but Harry twisted out of reach, allowing Sirius to see into it, but not touch it. Sirius caught Harry's eye in the mirror a moment before it wavered and Peter appeared.
He squinted at Harry, then scowled.
"Did I misspeak?" he asked, voice almost shrill with irritation. "I thought I was quite clear earlier, when I said to send Harry-"
"You said not to send any of the other students, or the staff," Sirius said crisply. "Dora's neither." Peter opened his mouth, closed it, then gave Sirius an ugly look.
"I said before, Sirius, that if you were difficult, Ron and Hermione wouldn't thank you for it." Peter swallowed, seemed to gird himself, then turned to look at something Sirius couldn't see. "Sorry, Hermione," he said, almost regretfully, "but Sirius has been playing games, even though I told him n-not to." He jabbed his wand, and Harry's fingers went white on the mirror's edges.
Sirius tensed, waiting for Hermione's scream, but it never came. Peter twisted his wand, but still there was silence.
After a few seconds Peter lowered his wand. Sirius could hear the faint sounds of someone breathing heavily and shakily through their nose.
"Doesn't want to scream, apparently," Peter said, frowning out of the mirror. "What about you, Ron?"
"Oh uh orsell," Ron replied, sounding like he'd been gagged or Tongue-Tied. Peter's expression spasmed, and he stabbed his wand forward. Ron grunted once, but otherwise was quiet.
"Don't-!" Harry said forcefully. Peter lowered his wand again, and this time it was Ron's breathing Sirius could hear.
"Are you going to listen?" he asked.
"Yes," Harry said mulishly. Sirius gave a curt nod.
"And do as I tell you?" Peter said.
"Yes," Harry said darkly.
"Harry," Sirius said under his breath, warningly. Harry said nothing.
"Sirius," Peter said in the same tone, then, looked expectantly at Harry.
"Yes," Harry said again, impatiently. Peter studied Harry for a moment, then turned to look at Sirius.
"Hmm," Peter said doubtfully. "We'll go step-by-step, just in case." Sirius bared his teeth. "Harry, have Dumbledore, Moody, Snape, Lupin and Sirius stand against a wall, would you?" They started to move towards McGonagall's bookshelf. "And McGonagall when she gets there - she's just around the corner." Sirius glared at Peter, unmoving. He sighed and flicked his wand. There was a yelp.
"Padfoot," Harry said sharply, looking about ready to drag Sirius over to the wall by his dog-tags. Swallowing, Sirius moved to join the others. As Peter had predicted, McGonagall arrived a few seconds later, and went to Dumbledore when he gestured for her, eyes on Harry and the mirror.
"Good," Peter said approvingly. "Now, Harry, put the mirror up somewhere that'll let them all see me." Harry looked over at them, worried.
"On the mantel should be fine, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, and Harry went to place it there. Dumbledore's fingers moved ever so slightly, and Harry's cloak slid soundlessly off the desk and out of sight. Peter didn't notice, just surveyed them all smugly from the mantel.
"Wands out," he said, "all of you." Slowly, Sirius drew his wand, thinking all the while that it was a pity he couldn't cast spells through the mirror. "Good," Peter said again. "Give them to Harry." Snape's sparked irritably and Mad-Eye's tried to wriggle out of his grip, but Harry held them tightly. "Harry, fan them out so I can see and count them all." Peter was quiet for a moment as Harry did what he was told. "Without turning away from me or lowering them, place them on the corner of the desk- no the other corner, the one I can see. Good. Pick up the cloak and step away." Harry did, and Sirius was even more relieved Dumbledore had thought to hide Harry's cloak. "See," Peter said, "how easy it is when everyone follows the instructions."
"What's next?" Sirius asked tersely.
"Nothing for you," Peter said, shrugging. "Harry, though, is going to go the the vase on the fourth floor, with the cloak, and meet me." He looked to Harry, whose jaw set. "Come on, Harry." Harry looked at the door. Sirius looked at the wands on the table - Harry's amongst them - and felt sick.
Sirius had barely taken a step away from the wall when Hermione let out one of the most awful screams Sirius had ever heard. McGonagall yanked him back into place by the collar of his robes, like a naughty child. The screaming stopped. Peter looked exasperated and Sirius' insides twisted with anger and guilt.
"Give us a minute," Sirius said to Peter, eyes flicking to Harry.
"No," Peter said.
"Peter-"
"We're not negotiating, Sirius," Peter said firmly.
"Padfoot..."
"No," Sirius said, not sure whether he was talking to Harry or Peter. "No-"
"Shut up, Sirius," Peter said. "This is well and truly out of your hands, and if you move or speak again, I'm going to make Ron and Hermione bleed, not just scream." McGonagall gripped Sirius' arm. Peter turned to Harry. "Harry, I'm not going to ask again. If you're not going to come - and I can't force you to - then I'm leaving." Harry's eyebrows raised, and Sirius saw a wary sort of hope on his face. "Oh, no," Peter said, "no, Harry, that's not a good thing. I wouldn't leave with them still alive. They know where I'm h-hiding, you see, and I might want to use this place again. And yes, there's always Obliviation, I suppose, but that's hardly going to impress upon you the importance of listening to me…"
"And you'll let them go?" Harry said, sounding very young. "If I come to meet you, will you let them go, alive?"
"Yes," Peter said, looking relieved. "I promise."
"Right," Harry said. Sirius saw the moment he made the decision; it was a trap - it had to be, and Harry had said he knew that - but it had still been obvious all along that Harry was prepared to go for his friends, if that was what it took, but Sirius saw in his eyes the moment he decided to go.
"Potter," Snape said stiffly. Harry looked at him, jerked, and took a step backward, wincing, then went abruptly still. "Good luck." Harry twitched again and nodded.
"Off you go, then, Harry," Peter said. Harry swallowed and strode t
o the door. Sirius almost didn't think he was going to look back, but he did.
This was more or less what he'd envisaged every time they argued about Harry rushing off into danger… except it wasn't. There was no eagerness, no recklessness there. He looked at Sirius, eyes worried and angry and tired and old, and Sirius thought he finally understood.
There was a chance for Ron and Hermione if he went, and none at all if he didn't. Harry wasn't the most qualified or experienced person available, but he was the only one that could go, so how could he not?
Sirius would have for Harry or Remus or - years ago, when it was still an option - James, and with worse odds. Not that Harry's odds were particularly good, wandless and alone as he was.
It's okay, he wanted to say - not permission, but understanding - or Be careful, or I love you, kiddo, but he said none of those things, because Peter would have hurt Ron or Hermione if he tried to. Instead he held Harry's eyes, and hoped Harry could smell those things on him. He must have, because he seemed to relax.
Then, in the doorway of the office and out of the mirror's view, Harry pulled James' wand out of his pocket, gave them all a shadow of a smile, and left.
Harry had barely stopped - right beside the vase on the fourth floor - when a small, plain door appeared on the wall. Harry looked around the corridor.
He couldn't see, hear or smell anything, and with his mirror back in McGonagall's office, Harry had no way to get in touch with Wormtail and ask what he was supposed to do next; his best guess was the door, but Hogwarts being Hogwarts he couldn't be certain. It wasn't unusual for doors to appear in random places.
Still, Wormtail had the Map and was surely watching him. Harry was certain this door wasn't on the Map, though, and wherever Wormtail was hiding wasn't either, so it was probably a good start.
Harry knocked once on the door, then, when his knock went unanswered, reached for the handle and pulled it open.
A dark, narrow stairway greeted him, and at the very top of it - which was a long, long way up, probably two or three levels of the castle higher - Harry could see flickering orange light.
"Harry!" Wormtail's silhouette appeared at the very top of the staircase. "Shut the door and come up, won't you?"
He disappeared again, and Harry had no way of knowing if he'd gone to sit down and wait, or if he was lurking just out of sight ready to Stun and grab Harry when he made it upstairs.
Harry searched his pockets for a quill or something, but all he had was James' wand; everything else was in the robes and trousers he'd loaned to Dora.
Harry shrugged off his robe instead. He arranged it hastily so that the sleeves were pointing to the wall where the door had appeared, darting glances up the stairs the whole while.
Then, Harry slipped inside and pulled the door shut. The passage went dark, but for the light coming from the door upstairs.
Harry eyed the cloak in his arms, then the stairs. He couldn't see Wormtail, but that didn't mean Wormtail wasn't crouched behind the doorway, listening, and ready to hex him, or try to get his blood, or portkey him straight to Voldemort as soon as Harry stepped into the room.
He considered pulling the cloak on and trying to sneak up the stairs, but discarded the idea as soon as he stepped onto the first one; they were not stone as he'd first thought, but a pale grey wood that creaked beneath his shoes.
Harry wondered if Wormtail had somehow made them that way, or if it was just an unfortunate coincidence. Either way, it didn't leave him with many options; he eased his father's wand out of his pocket and held it ready, hidden by the bundles of Moody's cloak.
Bizarrely, Harry was reminded of his first night at Hogwarts waiting to be Sorted; Ron had said something about a painful test (a lie told to him by Fred or George) and Harry had made a mental list of the useful spells he knew.
Now, the better part of three years later, he was doing the same. He knew a few good ones these days; Stunners and Disarmers, for one, and he had a decent Shield Charm as well, but those weren't what kept coming to mind:
For enemies, the page Snape had shown him had said, and what was Wormtail if not an enemy? And yet… what if the spell killed Wormtail? There really was no knowing with Snape, even if Padfoot, Draco, and Dumbledore all seemed to trust him.
He was almost to the top now. Wormtail would almost certainly be able to hear him, but what Wormtail obviously didn't realise was that he and Harry were evenly matched in that regard; he could hear Wormtail's careful breathing, and smell him too - a mix of sweat and anticipation - just behind the doorway, waiting.
Harry tightened his grip on James' wand - still hidden beneath the cloak - took a deep breath and walked up the last few steps.
