Chapter Sixty-Six - Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Remus instructed Harry, Blaise, and Millie to try to get some sleep while they waited for Sirius to return. He would remain on watch outside their tent. It wasn't long before Harry knew that sleep was out of the question for him, as well. His mind was still too full of skulls and serpents. Abandoning his cot, he joined Remus outside to watch the night sky.

It took Sirius a couple of hours to return with his motorcycle, and even Remus gave a weary sigh of relief when it swooped into view. Despite his reservations, Sirius flew them safely home. In fact, the ride was so smooth that Harry was finally lulled to sleep. Millie flew alongside them for a few miles until she too succumbed to exhaustion, and still in her falcon form, nestled into Harry's arms. By the time they had reached Grimmauld Place, the sun was barely beginning to rise. They didn't exchange a word before shambling through the doors and tumbling into the nearest beds.

By the time Harry awoke the next day, it was already well past noon. After an irresistible urge to use the loo pulled Harry reluctantly from his bed, he had time to consider his growling stomach. He allowed his basic bodily needs to lead the way, and eventually wandered into the kitchen, relieved to hear Sirius's voice and smell that he had breakfast ready.

He was somehow not at all surprised to see Mrs. Zabini. She was talking to Sirius about an article in The Daily Prophet, a copy of which was spread out on the table before her. Harry spotted a headline that read "Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup." It was accompanied by a large photograph of the Dark Mark.

Although he wasn't keen to relieve the horrors of last night, Harry was curious to read what The Daily Prophet had reported on the event. He was disappointed to see that the article lacked any new information and was composed primarily of rumors. Although he agreed with the reporter's attack on the Ministry's lack of security, he knew for a fact that no one had been killed, as the article suggested. The writer's scathing tone and baseless accusations caused Harry to doubt any of the information shared, and he pushed the paper away without any interest in reading further.

"Another Rita Skeeter masterpiece," Mrs. Zabini said sarcastically, "Someone ought to shut her up."

"I would think if anyone were capable of doing that, it would be you," Remus commented lightly.

It was intended as a compliment, and it was clear Mrs. Zabini accepted it as such, though she shook her head and glared at the paper.

"Believe me, I've tried. She likes to amuse herself writing gossip columns about my past husbands. I've threatened The Prophet with libel suits and demanded her termination, but somehow there's always a loophole. Apparently she can insinuate as much as she wants, so long as she doesn't actually accuse me of killing anyone."

"I sympathize with you," Remus said, his eyes drifting toward SIrius, "We have plenty of reason to doubt anything written by Skeeter. Don't we, Padfoot?"

Sirius set a plate of food in front of Harry, ruffling his already unruly hair as he did so. Whereas Remus and Mrs. Zabini wore hard expressions while discussing the reporter, the corner of his mouth was lifted in a slight smile.

"Sure, she took her jabs at me," he said in agreement, "The day they sent me to Azkaban she wrote her magnum opus. All that stuff about betrayal and the Black family legacy… All fabricated to fit her theories, of course. But she's not the one who put me in prison, Moony."

"No, but she certainly didn't help," Remus replied coldly, "She misrepresented a lot of things, and not just about you. She came after me when I petitioned the Wizengamot to hear an appeal."

"And I'll never forgive her for that," Sirius replied, his voice soft, "But I have bigger enemies that Skeeter. At least she is easy enough to ignore."

"I wish I could say the same, but I'm afraid I still hold a grudge," said Mrs. Zabini.

Abusing Rita Skeeter gave them something to talk about in the following days, as Mrs. Zabini became a regular fixture at Grimmauld Place. She could never be convinced to stay the night in one of the newly refurbished spare rooms, but her presence was such a regular occurrence that Harry, rather than miss her, felt as if he had never really left her home. Often Mrs. Zabini would be there when Harry went down to breakfast, and would not leave until after he went to bed.

Rather than resent the intrusion, Sirius and Remus welcomed her visits. When not discussing the latest Skeeter article, Mrs. Zabini would talk about the events at the World Cup, often bringing with her more details about the MInistry's response. Her information always came from Ludo Bagman, and Sirius and Remus were always happy to share their opinions. Harry, Blaise, and Millie took to listening in at doors, trying to hear what the adults wouldn't dare speak of in front of the children.

But Mrs. Zabini did not merely partake of the latest gossip. She had another motive behind her visits, and it revealed itself the night before the children were to return to school.

Remus was due to undergo his monthly transformation, and it was clear from the guarded questions Mrs. Zabini asked that she wanted to see how their fortifications held up. Her curiosity was not well received. Sirius, always alive with anxiety on Remus's account, was immediately on the defensive. Remus, however, was more understanding, and quelled Sirius's righteous anger with a look.

"I think it's time for me to retire," he said, checking his watch as he spoke. He set his mug on the table, having drained the last of the same ghastly potion Harry had first seen him drink during his tenure at Hogwarts. Back then, it was Snape who had brewed the wolfsbane potion. Now it was purchased from a discreet apothecary in Knockturn Alley. Harry understood that it was designed to keep Remus calm and ease his transition, but it could not stop the transformation itself.

Harry watched as he excused himself, followed closely by Sirius. Mrs. Zabini had the good sense not to follow them. She pretended to amuse herself with a discarded copy of The Daily Prophet. Harry darted a glance at Blaise and Millie before passing unobtrusively into an adjoining room. His friends, understanding that look, followed him, and he wasted no time in opening the subject that had been on his mind since the World Cup.

It was about his scar. It hadn't hurt in weeks, but with Death Eaters reappearing and renewed whispers about You Know Who , Harry couldn't help but wonder if the two events were connected.

"I thought you said it was that weird locket that did it," said Blaise, "Your scar stopped hurting after you gave it to Sirius, right?"

"No, I thought it was the locket," Millie reminded him. She then turned to Harry and asked, "Did your scar hurt when those Death Eaters showed up?"

Harry shook his head, "Not even when someone cast the Dark Mark. But it's strange. It hurt when I was close to Professor Quirrell, and now we know that's because Voldemort had possessed him. And now with my dreams… They always seem to be about Wormtail, and…"

"Wormtail?" Blaise interrupted.

"I mean Pettigrew," Harry clarified. Then he paused. It was true that Wormtail had been Peter Pettigrew's nickname when he was a Marauder, the same as Padfoot for Sirius or Moony for Remus. But he never heard his guardians refer to their childhood friend by that name anymore. Why did he think of it now? Was that what he called him in his dreams?

It was Millie who broke the silence, stating, "Why haven't you talked to Sirius or Remus about this?"

"I was going to, I mean I will…" Harry said, looking at his feet, "It's just… Even with everything going on, things have been… good. I guess I didn't want to make them worry."

"I agree with Harry," said Blaise, "Besides, we're going back to Hogwarts tomorrow. It's not like You-Know-Who is planning to possess another teacher. Though if he did, I wouldn't mind if it were Snape…"

Blaise's comment reminded them that they had a train to catch the following day, and they were forced to finally pack their bags. While Remus was ensconced above, they began searching the lower rooms for possessions that had been tossed about as they had grown more comfortable with their surroundings. Textbooks found under sofas, having been discarded after reading. Harry's practice Snitch, a gift from Blaise, could not be located for over an hour until, unexpectedly, it turned up in Sirius's teakettle. When they had finally gathered their things and returned to Harry's bedroom to pack, they found two parcels wrapped in neat brown paper on a stack of freshly folded clothes. Blaise tore his open without ceremony, unfurling the contents to reveal…

"Dress robes?" he asked aloud, "What are these for?"

Curious, Harry opened his parcel and found a similar set of robes in emerald green.

"They're from me," said Mrs. Zabini, poking her head in from the hall, "I thought you might need them."

"Why would we need dress robes at school?" Blaise asked, darting a look of suspicion at his mother.

But Mrs. Zabini would only give him a cryptic smile. She turned the conversation as Millie appeared in the doorway behind her, carrying her own luggage in hand.

"Did you find your gift as well, Millie dear?"

Harry and Blaise looked at Millie, who had pulled a face of consternation. Harry wasn't sure if it was due to the term of endearment, or the gift itself.

"Yes, but… I don't want to seem ungrateful, Mrs. Zabini, but I don't think it will suit me at all."

Mrs. Zabini's smile broadened as she said "We'll see…"

It was raining when they left for the station the following morning. Mrs. Zabini was there, as usual. She offered to escort the children alone, assuming that Remus needed time to recover and that Sirius would want to stay with him. But Sirius was adamant that he would not miss his first opportunity to see Harry board the Hogwarts Express.

He made the trip in his dog form, but his excitement would not be contained for long. As soon as they passed over the threshold onto Platform 9 ¾, Sirius shifted back to his human shape. The sudden transformation alarmed several students milling nearby, though it was clear they had not recognized him. Sirius's appearance had changed so greatly from that shown on his wanted posters last year, that far fewer people seemed to recognize him than what Harry had expected.

While Blaise talked with his mother, trying and failing to find out what event was happening at Hogwarts that year, Harry scanned the faces of the crowd. He was looking for old friends, perhaps Hermione and Neville, the two Gryffindor students he had befriended during his second year at Hogwarts. He had not been on writing terms with them before, but he wanted to thank them both for his birthday didn't spy either Hermione's bushy hair or Neville and his toad, but he glimpsed another familiar face.

"Ned!" Harry called out, running toward Ned Willoughby. Ned was a Ravenclaw student in the same year as Harry. He had also been one of the students unfortunately petrified by a basilisk when they were in second year.

His friend returned Harry's greeting with a shy smile. "Actually, Harry, it's Eleanor now, but you can call me Nell if you like."

Harry paused. It suddenly struck him that Willoughby had already changed into the school uniform, and the cut of the robes was unmistakably feminine.

"Oh sorry, my mistake," Harry said after a beat, then he continued, "How was your summer, Nell?"

His response seemed to make Nell immeasurably more comfortable, and she cheerfully replied that her holiday went very well. Nell's parents were muggles, and she had spent the summer vacation travelling through Europe with them.

"What about your summer?" she asked in return.

Harry had been waiting for this question. "I was at the Quidditch World Cup," he said in a rush. Nell's eyes grew large, appropriately impressed by the news.

"I don't know whether to be jealous or relieved that you're alright," she said, "I wanted to go, but my parents… Well, getting tickets was too difficult. When I saw The Prophet though…"

"I understand," Harry interrupted, "The match was amazing, but what followed…"

The whistle to board the train blew before Harry could say more about everything he'd seen. Turning back to Nell, Harry asked if she wanted to find a compartment with him. She agreed, eager to hear a first-person account of the events at the Cup. They soon found a compartment where Millie and Blaise had already established themselves. Blaise was hanging halfway out the window, still talking to his mother.

"We'll see you at Christmas, right mum?"

But Mrs. Zabini returned an indulgent smile and replied, "I think not. With everything else going on, I imagine you'll want to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays this year."

"What does that mean?" Blaise cried as the train slowly began to roll out of the station.

Mrs. Zabini merely waved in farewell. Sirius offered no objection, showing by a knowing smile that he was fully aware of the secret. As the train began to gather speed, preparing to pull out of the station, Harry heard him call out, "Have fun! Perhaps I'll come to watch!"

"Watch what?" Blaise cried once more, but his words were taken by the wind as the train made its way from the station.

Blaise flopped into his seat with an exasperated sigh. It was only then that he noticed Harry and Nell, still standing in the compartment doorway.

"You remember Nell Willoughby?" Harry said, worried his friends might make the same mistake he had.

Blaise frowned, "Wasn't your name Edward or something?"

"It's Eleanor," she replied firmly. Nell had always been a little suspicious of Blaise, and Harry understood that she might feel more defensive around him.

If he heard the hard note in her tone, he didn't show it. Blaise merely shrugged and said, "We're not there yet. I'm still going to call you Willoughby."

Nell rolled her eyes and replied, "Suits me fine, Zabini. Can I join you?"

"Have a seat," Millie said, more cordially.

"Say Willoughby," Blaise added as she and Harry got settled, "You don't know what's going on at Hogwarts this year, do you?"

"Do you mean the dress?" Nell replied. Blaise seemed confused, and Nell was forced to explain, "Your list would have called for dress robes. The girls' list said we could bring either dress robes or a formal gown."

Nell looked to Millie for confirmation, and received a nod in reply.

"Anyway," Nell continued, "I don't know what the clothes are for, but clearly they've planned something unusual this year.

"You mean you haven't heard?"

They turned to the compartment door, carelessly left open after Harry and Nell had entered. Harry now regretted that carelessness. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, his friends Crabbe and Goyle hulking protectively behind him. He seemed to think their conversation was very funny.

"It's supposed to be a secret," he continued, "But I'm surprised your mother hasn't said anything to you, Blaise. My father told me weeks ago… But then, perhaps her friends don't reach as high in the ministry as…"

"You can stop right there, Malfoy," Blaise replied, suddenly less curious about the entire matter, "Because if your next words are 'my father,' I'll jinx you so badly either of your parents will recognize you. Besides, my mum does know what's happening."

Draco sneered at him and asked, "If that's the case, then why hasn't she told you?"

"Obviously she would like me to have a pleasant surprise. Pity your father no longer cares about such things in your case."

Blaise could pretend to have lost interest, but Harry still wanted to know. Still, it would be terrible to give Draco the satisfaction of asking him anything. Clearly, Blaise felt the same way, and it was clear that he resented Draco's implication that his mother's friends were out-ranked by Lucius Malfoy.

Draco, sensing that his hints were not garnering the response he had hoped for, spared a glance at the compartment's other inhabitants. His eyes fell on Nell, and his lip curled unpleasantly, as if he had just detected a very unpleasant smell. Harry felt a surge of protectiveness sweep over him, fearful lest Draco say something judgmental to his friend. Draco had the presence of mind to keep his opinion to himself, however, and throwing out another careless comment about the things to come, walked off to find his own cabin.