Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.


Chapter 74: The Experiments

Black Lake, Scotland, April 30th, 2006

"It works in Dungeons and Dragons," Ron told himself as he hefted the small bag and took a step back from the cage in which the Dementor was being held - no need to risk splattering himself with the Glittering Glue. He didn't have to aim - the cage was so small, the invisible creature inside couldn't really move to the side. Which was good since he'd probably miss otherwise - it wasn't as if he was any good at throwing things, Ginny had always been better at sports, and...

Shaking his head and holding his breath, he let the contents of the bag fly at the cage and took another step back. The glittering mass hit the bars of the cage and splattered all over them and the inside of the cage - and Ron gasped as the outline of a figure became visible. Ragged, hooded, just as Hermione had described them. Though with the glitter, it didn't look quite as scary. Ron surprised himself by chuckling at the sight.

"Fascinating," he heard Dumbledore's voice over the intercom. "So we can make Dementors visible."

"Seems so," Ron replied. Well, his brothers would have another feather in their caps, having found a way to deal with a centuries-old threat to wizards and muggles alike, while all he had done was hit something invisible like a trained...

"But," Hermione cut in, "if it's so easy, why hasn't anyone done it before? Paint has been in use for millennia, after all."

"Well, perhaps it's something…" Ron trailed off. Was it just his imagination or was the glitter disappearing? It was hard to tell, what with the bars being covered in it as well, but… "It's fading," he said. Of course it was - had he expected anything else?

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore agreed. "It's a very temporary solution, then."

"Yes, it's fading for me as well," Hermione said. "It's not the Dementor's aura spreading, then - it must be a physical degradation of the substance."

Ron hefted his pole. "I'll check." He carefully guided the pole through the bars covered in glitter without touching them, then stabbed forward again, gritting his chattering teeth as he felt resistance. He moved the pole around a little, then carefully pulled it back.

No glitter appeared when he removed the pole from the cage, but something clung to its tip.

"Take a sample!" Hermione yelled.

"Sure, sure," he replied. That was all he was good for, after all - menial tasks anyone else could do. He might just as well stay here and wait for the next order… No! He shook his head.

"Are you alright, Ron?"

He took a few more steps back. "Yes. Just… the aura." He quickly grabbed a sample bag and covered the tip of the pole with it, then wiped the substance off with the bag. "Done."

"Perhaps we should take a break," Dumbledore suggested.

"No, no," Ron said. "I'm fine. Mentally. But could you turn up the heating?" He shivered. "It's getting really cold."

Dumbledore coughed, but it was Hermione who spoke up. "The heating's already running at full power."

"Oh." And yet, he was freezing. But… "My breath isn't visible," he noted.

"The cold must have several components. Heating will be able to counter the environmental effects, but not the effects on people, then," Hermione said. "We'll have to rig you with a sensor to check your body temperature. I'm sure the Unspeakables have known about that for a long time!"

"Probably," Ron agreed. "Next test?"

"If you are ready, yes," Dumbledore said.

Ron heard Hermione huff as he moved closer to the cage again. The glitter on the Dementor had completely disappeared, but the cage bars were still covered in it. Perfect. Ron knelt and put the motion detector down, then retreated again. Of course, he forgot to test if it worked!

"It registered Ron," Hermione said. "The Dementor doesn't register."

"That's probably because it's not giving off any heat," Dumbledore replied. "Let's try an air pressure sensor."

In Ron's experience, those were fiddly - and useless outside. But in a cell or sealed hallway? Once more, he placed a sensor on the ground, then retreated.

"That's Ron moving back," he heard Hermione comment. "But there's nothing in the cage. I'll increase the sensitivity."

"Good thinking - is the creature floating motionlessly?"

"It looks like it. Ron, please hold your breath and don't move!"

"OK," he said, and did so. It wasn't as if he was any good at anything, anyway, if he moved. But not doing anything he might manage.

"Nothing… nothing… there!" Hermione's voice rose.

"Indeed! Movement inside the cage." Dumbledore sounded triumphant. "I believe we have found a way to keep an eye on our guest even as muggles. Two, if we prepare some glitter dispensers."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Now we have to find a way to kill it."


"Alright. So, we now know that the Dementor's aura, for lack of a more precise term, is not merely an illusion, but an actual physical effect - it lowers the temperature around the Dementor. But that also means it can be countered by muggle means - heating, mostly. Dressing warmly has a very limited effect. That aspect of the aura must directly effect the body since Ron's body temperature was affected as well. Not even spells will keep you warm." Hermione pointed at several drawings stuck on the whiteboard with little magnets.

"So you could be freezing to death in a room heated to twenty degrees while wearing clothes meant for expeditions to the Arctic," Ron said.

Hermione pursed her lips for a second, then nodded. "Yes, indeed."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said. "If that ever happens, the coroner stuck with the case would be very confused, I believe."

"It's unlikely to happen, though," Hermione told them. "Few, if any, Dementor attacks will happen in such warm rooms. The Dementors seem to prefer cold environments. Back in the war, when they were running rampant, deaths by exposure rose as the Dementors sucked out the souls of unwary isolated muggles and then let the husks freeze to death."

"Few police officers would suspect anything amiss, I think," Dumbledore said. "A homeless person, or a drunk who got lost, found dead after a cold night? And all the signs on the body matching? An open-and-shut case."

Ron nodded.

"The Obliviators back then didn't even bother with those cases, or so I believe." Hermione scoffed. "Not that they cared much for muggles in the first place. However, they had to work harder in cases where entire families were killed by the monsters. Most of those were covered up as 'gas leaks'." She shook her head. "Anyway, warm clothes actually do help a little, but that might merely be a sympathetic effect."

"A sympathetic effect?" Dumbledore asked.

"Like Voodoo?" Ron had heard that term in some games.

Hermione shook her head. "That would be sympathetic magic - at least in lay terms. No, that's not it. Muggles cannot do magic. I'm not certain what the underlying cause of this effect is, only that it exists. It might be that the Dementors need to at least subconsciously convince a target that they're freezing, which would be harder if you're dressed warmly."

"Nothing subconscious at it if you can see your breath," Ron pointed out. He had been the one testing those hypotheses, after all.

"Heating should help there, then," Dumbledore said. "Gellert won't like the size of our heating budget, but it's necessary," he added with a grin.

"Yes." Ron didn't think it was funny. It would be a drop in the budget, anyway.

"But neither will affect the mental effects of the aura. Chocolate will lessen it - to a very limited degree. It helps more when recovering from exposure to Dementors." Hermione pointed at another picture. "More testing is required to determine whether this is an innate quality of chocolate or an effect on the brain's chemistry. If the latter is true, then there might be more effective drugs to counter the aura's mental effects."

Dumbledore nodded, though Ron clenched his teeth. He didn't think drugging yourself so you were high instead of depressed was a good idea. "Many of those drugs are addictive, aren't they?"

"Not all, but there's a risk," Hermione admitted. "And most have serious side effects."

Ron nodded, shuddering a little. He'd rather gain some weight from eating too much chocolate than suffer that.

"However, we have confirmed that the Dementor's effect on muggles is not an illusion, either, but affects substances coating its body, rapidly decaying them. We haven't tested for it yet, but I fear that this extends to the Dementor's environment as well."

"You mean it could make the cage and the door decay?" Ron asked.

"Not rapidly, or it would've done so already. But I think over time there might be noticeable decay. That means we'll have to check for it regularly."

Ron nodded. He could do that.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Dumbledore said. "Repairs are easy."

"I don't think so either," Hermione agreed. "Indeed, I think we can safely assume that this set-up is safe enough for more aggressive tests."

"Such as testing ways to kill it," Ron said. "They don't like being shot, but immersion in water doesn't kill them."

"I didn't think it would. But it is a vulnerability," Hermione retorted. "And I have a few ideas on how we might be able to exploit it. We already know a Dementor can be touched - and can be hit and pushed. Our next step will be testing if they can be damaged by physical attacks - and whether they heal from such damage. And how long that might take."

"Destructive testing." Ron grinned.

Hermione frowned at him, but Dumbledore chuckled.


Black Lake, Scotland, May 1st, 2006

Ron stared at the cage as the last remains of the Glittering Glue turned into smoke and ashes. He could just make out a thrashing figure in the smoke, sort of. And some flames appearing and disappearing. "It looks like the flames are visible if they're far enough away from the Dementor," he reported.

"I concur," Dumbledore said over the intercom. "Do you feel any warmer? Your body temperature hasn't changed - it's still as low as during the other tests."

"Marginally," Ron replied. "Might just be a psychological effect." Watching the creature burn - or, rather, knowing it was burning - warmed his heart, so to speak.

"It's screeching and throwing itself against the cage bars as it burns," Hermione added. "But I can't detect any actual damage - not even the rags are actually getting damaged, as far as I can tell."

"Well, we already knew that fire wouldn't work," Ron said, taking a step back. It was unnatural to be cold while standing next to a fire.

"We knew that wizards tried fire in the past and found out it didn't work, but we didn't know whether the fire wasn't hurting them, or if they simply couldn't be killed by fire and would recover from it," Hermione retorted. "Now, we know more."

"It's hurting but not damaging them," Ron said.

"A likely possibility, but it's certainly conceivable that being on fire merely enrages the creature," Dumbledore pointed out. "Like when we step into the droppings of an animal and cannot shake them off."

Ron preferred to think that the Dementor was actually hurting and not just losing its temper.

"We can hardly ask it," Hermione said. "But we can conclude that fire doesn't physically harm the creature. Which we'd already assumed."

It still had to be tested, of course - without the lore from the Unspeakables, their knowledge about the Dementors was very spotty. And setting the monsters on fire was also fun. "What's next, then?" Ron asked.

"More physical attacks with various materials," Hermione told him. She didn't mention Fiendfyre - none of them did. No one wanted to resort to such measures - well, Dumbledore might consider it - and certainly not inside a building. According to Hermione, not even water stopped the cursed fire.

"Alright." He ate another chocolate bar and hefted his pole. The tip had been modified so various implements could be put on it. Like a Swiss Army polearm. He doubted that anything would come from it - the wizards would have tried that in the past as well. With magic, it would be easy to transfigure anything into something else.

It still had to be done, though. You never knew. And as much as he hated being near a Dementor, stabbing one still felt satisfying, even if it might not do any damage.


Hot chocolate was a godsend. Ron sighed, his eyes closed and his hands wrapped around the mug on the table, then took a deep breath, letting the scent of chocolate and hot milk fill his nostrils. "Mhh."

"I think you - we - overdid it," Hermione said.

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

She gestured at his mug. "We shouldn't have let the experiments run for so long; you were exposed for hours."

"I can handle it," he replied before taking a sip from the mug. "I'm feeling much better already."

"You ate half a pound of chocolate," she told him.

"Yes." He grinned. As a kid, he would've loved having an excuse to eat that much chocolate.

"That's not good for you. Even if we discount the effects of prolonged exposure to a Dementor, eating so much chocolate…"

He shrugged. "I'll do a harder run in the morning. Exercise some more. Do a unit in the gym. Work off the calories."

"That's not what I meant."

He raised his eyebrows at her, taking another sip, and she sighed.

"Not all that I meant, then," she told him with a scowl. "In any case, we need to cut down on your exposure."

"As long as you don't try to take over instead…"

The way she pressed her lips together told him enough.

"You can't risk too much exposure," he told her. "It would hurt your research."

"I know! But watching you like this…" She shook her head. "I don't know if I can stand it."

But it wasn't as if they had many alternatives. The fewer who knew about their experiments, the better. And their friends who knew about them couldn't just vanish and then return traumatised - someone in Wizarding Britain would notice. And Ron wouldn't let Ginny or Harry go through this. Or, God help him, the Lunas or Sirius. They weren't as tough as they liked to think.

He stood and walked around the table. "Come on, let's sit on the couch."

She scowled some more but followed his suggestion, and they were soon sitting on the couch, hugging.

"Say, did anyone ever test if chocolate harms Dementors?"

She turned to stare at him. "Yes, actually. Someone tested it."

And he'd thought he was joking. "And?"

"It doesn't. It has no effect on the other properties of their auras, either." She shook her head, then leaned it against his shoulder. "I still think water's the key. It's used for several purifying rituals as well. I need to find a way to make them ingest it. I was thinking of transfiguring ice into something that DMSO would transport, but I don't even know if Dementors have blood - or anything resembling actual bodily functions. But it's a solid hypothesis."

He nodded in agreement. "And then wait until it's ingested, then turn it back?"

"That's the problem - I don't know how to untransfigure something like that." She was pressing her lips together. "And thought of putting a timer on a spell… I've never heard of anything like that." She sounded frustrated.

"Hmmm." He was no wizard. He couldn't cast spells. What was he supposed to say? "How long does something stay transfigured?"

"Depending on the skill of the wizard, a very long time," she replied. "I could deliberately cast a spell that only just worked, of course, but that would be terribly imprecise - and not really applicable on the scale we need."

Ron nodded, though he was sure that she also hated the very idea of not doing her best. "What about potions? The twins' trapped sweets are temporary, right?"

She grimaced. "Yes, that would seem to be the best solution - even though we'll have to rely on them for it."

Ron shrugged. "Whatever works." Sometimes, Hermione's desire to do everything herself got in the way of a good idea.


Black Lake, Scotland, May 2nd, 2006

"So you want a way to temporarily transfigure water into something else for a set time?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Yes." Hermione didn't quite roll her eyes, but she sounded annoyed. Ron could understand that - she had just explained what she wanted. In detail.

"That shouldn't be too hard," the wizard said. "Perhaps something like 'Withering Water'? Turns water to dust, then back?"

"That would be a nice joke when cleaning the basement or attic," his brother added. "Wait until they've rinsed off all the soap, then suddenly - dust everywhere!"

"Wouldn't they use cleaning spells anyway?" Ron asked.

"Oh, most common housekeeping spells actually use water and soap for cleaning," wizarding Fred told him. "The older spells even animate brooms."

"It was probably thought to be a good way to help hide our magic from muggle visitors or neighbours," Hermione suggested.

"Or they didn't know any better and just enchanted mops and buckets," wizarding George commented with a shrug. "For most people, good enough is good enough."

Hermione's frown made it quite clear what she thought about that attitude. Ron smiled - she was a perfectionist, after all. He cleared his throat. "Well, we don't want the Dementor to be scrubbed clean, so let's focus on how to get water inside it, shall we?"

"You want a dirty Dementor?" Wizarding Fred gasped, holding a hand over his heart. "Regular Dementors are bad enough, and you want dirty ones!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Very funny. You'd make a killing as a stand-up comedian."

"Why, thank you!" The wizard beamed at him and took a bow. "I try my best."

"If that's your best, I'd rather not see your worst," Ron shot back.

"I'd rather focus on the task at hand than amateur comedy," Hermione snapped.

"Yes, ma'am!" Wizarding Fred saluted.

"Well, we'd need to know how you plan to insert the transfigured water into the Dementor's body," wizarding George told her.

"By using dimethyl sulfoxide," Hermione said.

"DMSO," Ron added, which earned him a frown. He smiled back - it was better than letting the twins play word games for a few more minutes.

"It's a solvent that can penetrate skin and other membranes and carry other compounds with it," Hermione explained. "It's often used to deliver muggle medicine."

"And that works on a Dementor?" wizarding George frowned. "Do they even have skin?"

Hermione sighed. "We're not entirely sure, actually - we have used it on them, but we haven't been able to check if it penetrated, due to the decaying effect of their aura and the lack of any compound that would allow us to observe a successful penetration. We do think, however, that there's at least some penetration after observing the rate of decay on coloured solutions."

"Ah. So you don't know and hope it works?" Wizarding Fred grinned. "That's our sort of plan!"

Hermione scowled in return. "While you are working on temporarily transfiguring water, we'll be running more tests and experiments. Even if DMSO turns out to be ineffective, we'll still need your work."

"Ah." Wizarding George nodded. "It's good to be in demand."

"You can't use whatever you create for your products, though," Ron cut in. "Not for a while, at least, or the Ministry might find out you were involved."

"Bah - we've been suspects our entire life! Practically from birth! Mum tried to pin a missing cake on us before we could walk!" wizarding Fred exclaimed.

"You could've summoned the cake to yourselves using accidental magic," Hermione pointed out.

"We could've - but was there any proof? No!" the wizard snorted. "So we're used to such accusations."

"But you already used the 'people stole our products' excuse. It won't work twice," Ron pointed out.

Wizarding George nodded in agreement. "We can probably wait for a while to roll out the new product. Perhaps we'll get called in as experts and can then claim inspiration from our findings."

"I think the Unspeakables will play this close to their chests," Ron told him.

"They're greedy like that, yes," wizarding Fred agreed. "Hoarding all those secrets…"

"I think anyone who knows you two would curse you before letting you access the vaults of the Department of Mysteries," Hermione said in a dry voice.

"See? That's what I mean when I say we're used to being suspects! Not even family and friends trust us!" Wizarding Fred sighed overly dramatically.

"People don't trust you because they know you," Hermione retorted. "And you revel in your reputation."

Both twins grinned in response.

Ron sighed, shaking his head.


Black Lake, Scotland, May 3rd, 2006

The coloured liquid hit the cage, splashing all over the bars - and, Ron thought, over the creature inside it. He took a step back when he saw the puddle forming at the bottom - despite the protective suit he was wearing, he didn't want to get close to the deadly stuff.

He saw the cage rattle a little - the Dementor must be throwing itself against the bars. Did it know what it had been sprayed with? Did it feel something? Ron noticed more droplets on the floor and took another step back. Even though he might have spilt something on himself already, and was now doomed… He shook his head and wished he could eat a chocolate bar - but the gas mask he was wearing prevented him from eating anything. "What does it look like?" he asked.

"It's covered in the solution," Hermione told him. "Hose it down before it decays."

"Alright." Ron took a deep breath and picked up the hose, aimed it at the ground in front of the cage, and started hosing down the entire cell, starting from the door. Thanks to the heating running at full power and the fact the water was hot as well, it didn't freeze on the bars - that would've ruined the experiment.

After a few minutes, Hermione spoke up again. "That should be enough. The Geiger counter is showing that the water in the drain is clean of radiation."

Which meant he now had to check the cage with his own counter. Taking another deep breath, he hefted the Geiger counter and started to walk towards the cage. Nothing at the door of the cell. Nothing halfway to the cage. Nothing at the cage itself… He grimaced under his gas mask and started to push the counter into the cage. Time to make himself at least a little useful.

"Weak radioactivity. Move it up a little," Hermione told him.

He did.

"That's a stronger reaction - barely, but it shows. Down a little."

He did. What else was he good for?

"And to the ground."

He did that as well. A dumb robot could have done this. Or a trained monkey.

"Alright, come back."

He walked back, sighing. Another experiment completed, no thanks to him. All he had done was get into a Noddy suit and hose down a cage. Pitiful…

He clenched his teeth. No, he was better than this. He wasn't useless. Not at all. Damn it!

He wasn't useless. He told himself that while he was hosed down in the hallway - no one wanted to risk DMSO mixed with radioactive compounds getting out, no matter how weak it was supposed to be.

Then he could finally pull off the mask and eat some chocolate.

By the time he joined Hermione in the laboratory, he was feeling better. He had done well, after all - not everyone could move and operate machines while wearing full protective gear. Not with enough precision to conduct an experiment. "So, what's the verdict?" he asked.

"Oh, the Dementor was still radioactive even though the cell and cage were clean;" she told him. "Though it could be that its rags soaked up the solution - but the effect was measurable in the head area as well, where the rags weren't as thick, so I'm cautiously optimistic that DMSO is working."

"Unless it works on the rags," he pointed out.

"That is possible - but since they are part of the Dementor's body, that's a success as well," she replied. She smiled at him. "Thank you. I know how hard it is to face that… monster."

"No problem," he lied. "It's the least I can do."

"No, it's not!" She glared at him. "You're facing mental torture every day!"

He shrugged. "I can handle it."

"That doesn't diminish what you're doing." Her glare didn't let up until he smiled.


"We've got a problem," wizarding Ron told them as soon as he stepped through the portal.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked, tensing up.

The wizard handed her a magazine. "The Quibbler's special edition. Luna's dad proposes using a Dominican Dream Eater to treat Hogmeade's residents."

"It's The Quibbler," she retorted as she flipped through the magazine. "No one takes it seriously."

"No one takes the conspiracy theories seriously, but they've a decent reputation among Magizoologists," Ron's counterpart told her. "And with St Mungo's not able to treat everyone - potions of Dreamless Sleep only work in far too high doses to be safe - the Ministry's jumping on anything that might help the victims."

"So they'll want a Dominican Dream Eater," Ron said as Hermione frowned. "What did Luna tell her dad about the one she took from him?"

"That she was taking it to a new habitat that was better suited for it," Hermione replied.

"The Ministry wants to talk to her. I managed to get the assignment," wizarding Ron said.

"Great." Hermione sighed and closed the magazine. "Just what Luna wanted."

Ron's counterpart blinked. "Do you think she's behind the article?"

"She's been spending a lot of time with my Luna," Ron said. Who had spent too much time with Dumbledore.

"Oh."

"We don't know," Hermione cut in. "So we shouldn't assume she went behind our backs."

"And it's not the end of the world," Ron's counterpart said. "We just need a good cover story and to keep Luna from spilling the beans."

Which was far easier said than done, Ron knew.


Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, May 3rd, 2006

"Of course we'll send Snappy to St Mungo's!" wizarding Luna exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and pacing in the area near the habitats. "Daddy had the right idea - Snappy can help all those poor people!"

'Daddy had the right idea'? Ron couldn't tell if the witch was honest about her father having had the idea or if she had told him to write the article. He glanced at Luna, who nodded emphatically. Luna would absolutely do such a thing to deflect suspicion. But would her counterpart? And while Luna had no qualms about lying to 'the government', she was honest with her friends.

But she had been spending a lot of time with Dumbledore. And she was aware that Ron and his friends didn't quite approve of the Lunas' plans for saving nature. He could ask - but that would put the Lunas on the spot. And show that he didn't trust them in this.

"And what if Snappy overeats again?" Hermione asked.

"Uh… I'll be with him, and ensure that he won't!" wizarding Luna nodded several times with a serious expression. "We won't have a repeat of The Great Hogsmeade Disaster!"

"'The Great Hogsmeade Disaster'?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's a fitting name, isn't it?" Luna said. "It wasn't intentional, after all, and 'The Hogsmeade Incident' sounds a little too ominous - the Ministry would be able to blame it on dark wizards more easily with such a name."

That was exactly what they were doing, of course.

"Natural disasters don't break through the protections of every house in a village," Hermione retorted.

"They don't need to if the protections don't work against the disaster - not that Snappy is a disaster!" wizarding Luna shook her head. "It's not his fault that we overfed him."

"But they might blame it - him - for this, once they examine him and discover he can fade through most protections," Hermione pointed out. "The Ministry will blame him for the disaster."

"But…" Wizarding Luna pouted. "We can't just let those people suffer when we - and Snappy - can help them!"

"And the Ministry won't just give up on a potential cure for the nightmares, either. If they can't get Snappy, they'll probably get another Dream Eater," Ron's counterpart added.

"By hiring poachers, I bet!" Luna scoffed. "And they might hurt or even kill Dream Eaters in their greed - muggle poachers often kill the parents to steal the young animals for zoos and rich clients."

And not so rich clients, Ron silently added. But Luna was correct - if the wizarding Lovegoods couldn't provide a Dream Eater, the Ministry might get one anyway. Or a handful of them.

"And they know you've got one - your dad told the Ministry that," wizarding Ron pointed out. "We'll have to come up with a cover story."

"That's easy - we'll just tell the truth: Luna took Snappy to a better habitat to examine him safely before releasing him back into the wild," Luna said. "It just won't be the whole truth."

That sounded… good, actually. As long as they could keep the Dream Eater from vomiting more nightmare fragments - and from displaying his ability to go through most standard protections on wizarding homes.

Which would be tricky. But what alternative did they have?

He nodded. So did Hermione - though grudgingly. And his counterpart nodded as well.

And Ron still didn't know for certain if wizarding Luna's dad had written his article prompted by one or both of the Lunas or not.


Forbidden Forest, Scotland, Wizarding World, May 3rd, 2006

"Come on, Snappy! It won't hurt - I promise!" wizarding Luna said, waving at the Dream Eater. "It's just a Portkey. You don't mind Portkeys, do you?"

"He shouldn't - he's already whirling around himself," wizarding Ron commented.

"That might actually make him dislike Portkeys," Hermione pointed out. "The rotation might counter his own:"

"Couldn't we counter that by doing it upside down so the rotation matches?" the wizard asked.

Hermione blinked. "That might work… depending on how Portkeys work."

"Did Snappy ever encounter a Portkey before?" Ron asked. "Luna?"

Both Lunas looked at him before wizarding Luna replied: "No. At least not while he was with Daddy or me. He's just afraid of eating himself sick again - we're close to Hogsmeade, after all. Well, relatively close compared to the distance to his home forest or our habitat. I'll just have to explain to him that this time, things will be different!"

Good luck with that, Ron thought. He wasn't even sure how smart the creature was. He would've assumed it wasn't sapient, but who knew with such a weird magical creature?

"Well, if he doesn't know about Portkeys, he won't shy away from them either," Ron's counterpart said.

"What? You don't just spring such a thing on him!" Wizarding Luna frowned at the wizard. "That could scare him! And he'd lose all trust in us!"

"What about Apparition?" Hermione asked.

"I would like to get him used to other forms of transportation," wizarding Luna replied. "Ideally, he'll be able to choose which form he likes best."

"Uh… I think that would be best done when the Ministry isn't waiting for us to come help the people in St Mungo's," Ron's counterpart suggested.

"Oh." The witch blinked. "You're right. I didn't think of that. Alright, Snappy - let's go. And remember: Don't stuff yourself!"

Ron didn't see the Dream Eater react in any way to wizarding Luna's admonishment, but after a long look, she nodded with apparent satisfaction. "OK, let's go!"


St Mungo's, London, Wizarding Britain, Wizarding World, May 3th 2006

The lobby of the hospital hadn't been turned into an emergency holding area for patients, Ron noticed as he followed Hermione, his counterpart and wizarding Luna to the reception, where a harried-looking wizard was talking to a middle-aged witch missing one of her legs entirely. Neither were the hallways on both sides lined with cots. Then again, with Extension Charms, wizards could just enlarge any room to hold dozens of cots.

"...just sit down. A Healer will be with you as soon as they're free."

"But I've been waiting for hours! And my leg's still splinched!" she gestured towards a bench behind her. Ron looked and saw a leg, still wearing stockings and shoes, leaning against it. No one was batting an eye at the sight of it.

"All our Healers are very busy, but they'll treat you as soon as possible, ma'am."

"Why are they busy? I don't have a nightmare or a curse - I just need my leg reattached!"

"Ma'am, everyone is working on the Hogsmeade attack no matter their usual assignments."

Ron winced. That was, sort of, their fault. But they were here to fix it.

"I can reattach your leg if you wish. But I'm not a trained Healer," Hermione cut in.

The witch turned to look at them, and her eyes widened. "Oh! But you're…"

"Yes, we are," Hermione said. "And we're here to deal with the Hogsmeade situation."

"Snappy will help!" wizarding Luna added with a smile.

Ron could tell the moment the witch noticed the Dream Eater - her eyes widened even more and she gasped loudly. "Merlin's beard! What is that?"

"It's a Dominican Dream Eater!"

Ron turned, one hand going under his jacket before he recognised Luna's - wizarding Luna's - father.

"Daddy!"

"Luna!"

The two hugged each other.

"I've missed you so!"

"I missed you, too, Daddy!"

Mr Lovegood released his daughter and turned to Snappy. "And there's the Dream Eater!"

For a moment, Ron thought Mr Lovegood would hug the creature as well - even though he had no idea how that would work - but the wizard refrained from doing so. Instead, he peered closely at it - so closely, the whirlwind started to tug on his wild mane. "And he looks to be in perfect health! You must have found the perfect habitat for him."

"Not perfect - food is an issue," wizarding Luna replied. "We'll have to make sure he doesn't overeat here since he's not used to so many nightmares. His stomach won't be able to handle it."

"His stomach? What stomach?" The witch missing a leg had regained her voice. "What is that, anyway?"

"You haven't read The Quibbler?" Mr Lovegood smiled. "It's a Dominican Dream Eater. They eat nightmares. I think he can help the people of Hogsmeade here, but we'll need to test that."

"Carefully test it," Ron's counterpart added. "That's why we're waiting for an expert from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures before we start anything." he checked his watch. "They're late, though."

A member of the… Ron frowned. He hoped it wasn't…

"Auror Weasley! Miss Granger! Mr Weasley! Miss Lovegood. Xenophilius!"

...Wilkinson. Just perfect - the one wizard in the Ministry who might connect the dots.

"Mr Wilkinson." Hermione nodded at him.

Wizarding Luna sniffed. Her father, though, smiled. "Humphrey! I thought you were on Dementor duty."

"I was!" Wilkinson replied. "But they pulled me off Azkaban for this because I've worked with all of you before."

"How fortunate for you." Wizarding Luna's father beamed. "Even the worst Department in the Ministry cannot ignore talent like yours forever!"

"They'll just send you back to Azkaban as soon as you're done here," wizarding Luna said.

"Well, the Dementors are very interesting." Wilkinson grimaced. "It's just that they're a little too close on Azkaban to be able to study them."

Ron snorted. That was probably true.

The wizard at the desk had been watching them without saying a word until now. "Uh… I'll contact Healer Brown."

"The Head Healer at St Mungo's," Ron's counterpart helpfully told them.

It didn't take long for a frowning, scowling older witch to arrive. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked, with all the warmth of an Arctic winter day.

"We're here for the test," Mr Lovegood said.

"That foolish proposal of yours?" The Healer scoffed.

"It has the full support of the Ministry," Wilkinson told her with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything. The Ministry has given their 'full support' to the most idiotic projects and ideas." The Healer sneered. "If not for the special circumstances surrounding this situation, I strongly doubt that they'd give either of you the time of day."

"Ah, but they did," Mr Lovedgood said. "And we'll prove that Dream Eaters are a working alternative to Obliviation when dealing with cursed nightmares. And to overdosing your patients on potions of Dreamless Sleep."

Oh, dear Lord! They were treating nightmares by erasing the memories of them? Ron wasn't a wizard, nor was he a psychologist, but that sounded like a terrible idea.

"You're not going to set this… creature on any of my patients! Not in my hospital! Not on my watch!"

"How fortunate then," Mr Lovegood retorted, "that we have a few volunteers who won't be under your care any longer."

For a moment, Ron thought the Healer would refuse anyway. But the witch scoffed and turned away. "Suit yourself. I wash my hands of this." She glared at the wizard behind the desk. "Grover! Send them to the spare storage room."

The wizard looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded meekly at her glare.

"'Spare storage room'?" Hermione asked.

The Healer scoffed again. "We're filled to capacity and beyond. Any suitable space is needed for our patients. A spare storage room is all we can spare for 'experiments'."

Ron couldn't help but wonder why the hospital hadn't turned even a spare storage room into a sickroom if they were that pressed for space.


"That's all we can spare."

She didn't like it, but facts were facts.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, eyeing the small pile of supplies in the middle of the tent. "We've got a lot more potions."

"Potions that we might urgently need. We can't duplicate the vials," she told him. "And brewing takes time which we might not have in an emergency. We're already brewing what we can, but we still cannot replace the more exotic potions."

"But while we might or might not need a potion, the Order does need the potions. That's why they asked for what we can spare."

She pursed her lips. That was obvious, wasn't it? But… "If we fail, the war's lost. We can't afford to fail." She shook her head. "It might appear selfish, but it isn't."

"Tell that to the others." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh, I will," she replied.

"We can't tell anyone about our mission," he reminded her. "Remember Dumbledore's last orders!"

She bit her lower lip. He was right. "We still can't give up our own supplies."

"But we can't let the others suffer," Ron told her.

"I have the solution!" Harry suddenly cut in.

Both of them looked at their friend. Instead of brooding, Harry was smiling. Grimly and without much, if any, humour, but he was smiling.

"We'll raid a potion shop," he told them.