.

So far... The reborn Hermione launched the Cathesis League to fight Dark corruption, and Crest defensive training at Hogwarts where she'll soon begin her third year. Harry has been grounded by Sirius, and is feeling more and more confined and useless as his friends enjoy their summer freedom. Now read on...

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Chapter 71

Breaking Out


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A New Beginning

The first day of August, 1993 was quietly monumental within the community of Magic. The enactment of the Muggle Protection Act – which the Wizengamot had approved by a single vote two weeks prior – could no longer be delayed by the Minister for Magic 'on technical grounds' as Fudge put it. Elves finally began to turn the handles of the official Ministry printing press, the legal document was published, and the Daily Prophet mentioned the fact in a small paragraph on an inside page.

"Excellent!" Arthur Weasley murmured to himself as he sat at his work desk.

"Cathesis's first success of many to come," Jop agreed with his wife at their breakfast table.

"Exactly as I'd hoped," Hermione Granger explained to her long-suffering mother who could see no advantage in the low-key announcement.

"There shall be... retribution!" snarled Lucius Malfoy as the furious man's wand shredded the newspaper across the stone slabs of his manor.

.

The Enchanting Folds

The days following his birthday had found Harry Potter in a disturbing state of turmoil. Often he'd paced his room; right now he was sitting motionless on the edge of his bed, staring vacantly and deep in thought. Common sense told him he didn't need to impress Hermione Granger. That she cared deeply for him was obvious, yet his own self-respect greatly desired that she admire him too. Oh, she could never regard him with the same admiration and wonder as he did her, but still he yearned for her regard – not her pity. While his friends broadened and grew in stature, he, himself, felt constrained and limited.

A long slow moan of sad frustration slipped softly from his lips: "Oooouuuhhhh..."

He stared down at the picture postcard in his hand: the already-sun-freckled Weasleys were waving to him in a natural, friendly fashion without taunt or sarcasm – though he could not suppress his envy. Ginny in particular was balanced one knee up, side-saddle on her Firebolt to show a developing mastery of rock-solid hovering flight, an asset that would be a great asset to any watchful Seeker. He heaved another long sigh. While pleased for her, Harry longed to be of use himself to... well, almost anyone, in any way.

But what could he do confined here within the walls of twelve Grimmauld Place? Even the speckled owl nibbling disdainfully at his rasher snacks – a Pharaoh's eagle according to Percy – had more freedom than he. As it sped up to the attic loophole to begin the return to its native land, a startling idea occurred to Harry.

Deep in thought, he absent-mindedly bent down to scoop up the snack wrapper and other leftovers from the Muggle confectionery that Dean had sent him for his thirteenth. As he did so, Harry imagined discovering, then duelling, and finally capturing the great Dark Lord Arcanist himself! That would win Hermione's astonished approval! What if the Great Arcanist were Bellatrix – no one darker! The Black family library might have clues to places she haunted; he could start there.

The wicker wastebasket was near-overflowing with birthday packaging, tacky tape that clung to the sides, and ribbons that sprang out like escaping snakes. How appropriate: the evil witch's head would just fit nicely within! He stomped down with all his weight to make room and pressed in the latest non-magical wrappers: crinkly sillyfane Hermione had named it, and silver foil still smelling of dark chocolate – he'd keep that for his Favourite-Things shelf – and curious tubs made of – what had she called it? – blast it? ... plass stick?

He unfolded the badly-creased silver paper on his shelf next to the Brighton pebble and self-spinning Galleon, wishing he'd taken more care of the wrapper while wolfing down the delicious contents. He leaned over closely and tried a wandless repair spell but his efforts were far too feeble. He should have paid more attention to Hermione's guidance. Still, she had said magic without a wand took time and practice. Even Neville, who had hovered his own wand before their trip into non-being over a year ago, and could cast a reasonable Lumos, was not able to perform other than a few simple first-year charms. If only I had a...

Amazingly, the word wand was not even formed in his thinking when he realised he was looking directly down at one!

"My toy wand – OWWWWWW!" Banging his head on the shelf above, he'd leapt up with the little wand grasped firmly in his hand. This had been Hermione's second gift to him – even before he knew he'd met her – and held a treasured position on his special shelf.

Could it...? Would it...?

With a tentative flourish he cast the repair spell on the silver paper. ... His sniff of disdain ruffled the still-crumpled foil. Not all simple spells worked with junior wands but there was no official Ministry list. Scowling, he rolled up his sleeves and strove to remember one of Hermione's main principles of spell-casting: Don't bend the magic to your will, blend your will with the magic!

"Determination!" That was it! Time to see if he was really as powerful as Hermione kept assuring him he was. Summoning all his concentration he built up his focus in one long drawn-in breath:

"Reparo!"

The results were not spectacular. Oh, the junior wand was practically steaming with what he'd poured through it, but the silver paper was still... was still... was it... uncrinkling?

"Yes!"

Ever so slowly the wrinkles and crimps were fading, as if the shiny paper was a rumpled sheet being stretched flat or pressed by an invisible smoothing iron. Soon the foil gleamed like polished silver! He wondered how non-magicals could have made such a wondrous thing until... until his gaze was distracted by a large pile of childish paraphernalia wedged at the very left side of his shelf. His mouth curled in an evil grin as he dwelt on the swashbuckling, devil-may-care pirate play of his youth. Captain Potter would never, ever, have been confined below decks! Slowly but surely, new possibilities were hatching themselves within him.

With the junior wand, he continued the room tidy-up, floating sweet wrappers and small scraps of gift paper that had eluded his physical sweep. Presumably the Ministry liked to encourage neatness in children because close-up hovering and clotted-toffee scouring spells worked quite well. He even managed a light summoning charm if he was near enough – so well that even an old piece of folded parchment scuttled out from under a chest of drawers and, after fluttering into the air, stuck to the end of his wand!

He shook it over his waste basket. The twisted-up sheet clung on. He shook it again to no avail. Only when folded wings unfurled did it finally fly to the top of one of his wardrobes where it lodged in the thin crack over the door to rest itself, apparently watching him.

With a growl intended to show the foolish document who was boss, Harry placed both hands on his toy wand and built up his magic. "DEPULSO!"

There was a tearing sound, the wardrobe door flew open and a couple of shirts waved at Harry in the magical breeze as the cleverly-folded paper was banished – more rapidly than intended – to join the rest of the trash.

Shaking a fist of triumph, Harry shouted, "IN YOUR FACE, uuh... EVIL PARCHMENT!"

Only one person he knew was loony enough to so intricately charm such a captivating paper bird. Had the bewitched parchment escaped when Luna spilled her bag as he'd thrown his pillow at Ginny? He laughed at the strange antics Luna so often indulged, and felt his stress evaporate a little.

"I suppose... yes, I must..." return it to her. His voice had faded into puzzlement as he stooped down to retrieve the parchment from the top of the waste basket. A small rip had apparently broken the charm, though, now that the entertaining toy was static, the astonishingly-delicate folds remained to reveal that it was no longer a bird but a butterfly. The poor thing feebly tried to raise one wing, then sagged limp and lifeless in his hand, pallid, colourless, and patterned only by... unknown handwriting!

A sense of guilt arose in Harry as he carefully opened up the folds. Ought he to have destroyed Luna's work of art? Should he even read what might be a private message? After all, the document was only there by accident. Well, he had to at least confirm it was Luna's.

Before he could stop himself, his eyes had taken in more glimpses than was comfortable:

Hermione,

My agents reported ... lost track of Nott Senior ... has the elder Nott gone to ground? Fled British soil? Plotting something? My men have been unable to ... penetrate ... his home ...

Mike

Harry wondered why Luna had this letter which should have gone to Hermione. And why bewitch it into a bird-morphing-butterfly? Was this the quirky blonde's way of not-thinking things through? She'd once said something about 'birdies' but he couldn't remember what. One thing was certain: the only reason Hermione might want one of Theo's hairs would be to Polyjuice herself, impersonate him, and... then what? Trick his father into incriminating himself?

With a groan, Harry rubbed the back of his head. If only he could take the initiative then surely Hermione would no longer see him as someone to be led, guided, and protected – but how? How might he penetrate the Nott wards when even Hermione herself could not?

He sank back down onto his bed, thinking deeply through all the ideas that had occurred to him in the last few minutes, and studying the details of Mike Worthing's letter to Hermione...

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Hogsmeade or Die!

While Harry was contemplating Mike Worthing's previous letter, Hermione was sitting at table with her mother in the Grangers' kitchen reading a new message she'd just received from him:

Hermione,

There's good news and there's bad. Which do you want first?

Hermione smiled. Mike did have a sharp humour at times.

"The good news, please."

Paragraphs wriggled into new positions before her eyes:

Right, well, as you suggested, Irma Pince contacted Jop, and they've been exchanging owls for a while. She's clearly very knowledgeable about the political scene and how the corrupt Ministry operates. More importantly, her heart is firmly aligned to just and rigorous changes. I've spoken to Barty, Jop, and Vera, and, we're convinced Irma would be a great asset to Cathesis.

Accordingly Jop asked Irma to join us, and she has accepted. What part she may play has yet to be decided. She's brilliant enough to be Minister for Magic someday, but as you know, that post we've long since promised to Barty with Paul Ingleton already in place as his Undersecretary. Perhaps we can create a new position of Junior or Assistant Minister? How about Ministry Affairs Overseer as a general watchdog? Needs more thought.

The bad news is that my agents confirm your suspicions that the Nott wards extend below as well as above, so you won't be able to come up beneath. What is worse, they are cursed death traps for anyone that tries! Short of breaking in all wands blasting, there simply is no way to get inside for the time being. Best we can do is to keep using those Extendable Ears you gave us, but so far all they've revealed is the sound of occasional movement around the house which could be either Nott Junior or Senior. No conversations have been heard which suggests Theo is alone (or else he's not on speaking terms with his father!)

Mike

"Has to be Barty Crouch for Minister," Hermione murmured to herself, after she'd finished off a cup of tea. "He's the only one I know for certain did the right things in my other life – albeit too late to–"

"–You're muttering and mumbling again, Hermione," said Mrs Granger with a worried frown. "Don't you think you're taking on too much?"

Hermione pushed her empty cup across the kitchen table.

Mrs Granger reached for the teapot. "Another?"

"Yes, please, Mum. I do my best thinking when–" Hermione stopped and stared up at the ceiling.

Her mother watched Hermione with half an eye as she poured. "What now?"

"Don't really know... Luna seems to get her inspiration from out of thin air."

"Anything I can do to help?" Mrs Granger passed over the fresh tea then glanced down again at the slip of paper she'd been studying.

"Uumm... well only if you know a way to secretly burgle the hair of a dangerous wizard who's totally surrounded by protective lethal curses, and only a few weeks left to do it."

"Lethal? As in deadly?" shrilled Hermione's mother. "You keep well away is what you do or... or...!"

"Or what?"

"Or I don't sign this permit, is what!" Mrs Granger held up her ballpoint pen threateningly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's see, Hogsmeade or a horrible death? Mmm... I need to consider that for a millisecond or two. Okay, a slow painful end to my life is very tempting... but so is a relaxing day out with friends exploring the shops and taverns in a quaint village. So... on balance... I choose Hogsmeade."

"Right then! And don't you forget it!" Anne Granger signed her name with extra vehemence, then thrust the permission slip towards her daughter.

Hermione made a long-suffering face as she neatly organised the sheet in with a small pile of others which she then carefully read once more while sipping her tea. There were messages from Ron and Ginny, asking if she would get their new school books while they were holidaying in Egypt, and another from Harry begging the same because he was 'unjustly incarcerated' as he put it.

Mrs Granger frowned. "I'm coming with you."

"To Diagon Alley?" Hermione looked up. "I'm only... I'm meeting Neville and Luna, not sneaking off to get myself killed, Mum!"

"Still... we do have more gold to exchange at Gringotts, and–"

"–and you want to keep your eye on me, right?" Hermione heaved a sigh, then rose to her feet as she drained her cup. "Okay then, when you're ready. I'll be in the garden calling Aculus because Luna will need to be introduced to him.

.

Fiasco at Flourishes

The first bend in Diagon Alley was noisy with shoppers when Hermione arrived alongside her mother, and the hubbub and swirl of passers-by increased as the Grangers pressed around the curve.

"I suppose all the kids have their book lists..." said Mrs Granger.

"And the Firebolt is now on sale," added Hermione.

The unseen raven on Hermione's shoulder whispered, "Mistress, I sense more than–"

"–So do I!" Aided by her magic, Hermione broke into a jostling rush while her mother pushed anxiously after.

"We were waiting for someone!" – Neville's voice distantly, loud and angry.

"Silence! You can anticipate expulsion for this!" The sneering tone was exultant and could have issued only from Snape. "In fact you might be–"

"–ARRESTED is what THEY'LL be!" stormed Neville. His downward gesture was obscured by the crowd, some of whom were pressing forward while others tried to back away. The reason became very clear as a dreadful stench assailed Hermione's nostrils.

"Fetch Aurors and urge they bring a healer!" she hissed sideways, fearing a disembowelment, and her invisible familiar darted upwards, eyes keenly scanning every nearby alley from above.

Another voice, muffled by pain could be heard. "Blocking... door!"

"Stay back, Mum." Hermione's magic helped her squeeze through the crowd, but her mother, already lagging well behind, could not struggle through the tightly-packed gathering.

"We were well clear of the doorway!"

"Miles called me a... a sort of... street person and tried to ram me really hard. That wasn't very nice, was it?" piped up a girl's voice.

"Your wands!" demanded Snape.

"Not to you! You have no authority here, Mr Snape," said Neville. "Luna never even USED magic! She sideslipped Bletchley, kneed him, and the brute's own speed smashed the doorframe! Hopefully his shoulder too. I jinxed Lucian Bole as he tried to curse me. He's only soiling himself."

"ONLY? – for the last two minutes and ongoing!" shouted Snape. "He'll completely dehydrate, Longbottom, and you'll then be his murderer!"

"No, YOU should be accountable for preventing me countering the spell – unless you act quickly yourself, that is." He winked sideways at Luna.

"Insolent boy!" Nevertheless, Hermione was now close enough to see concern fill Snape's face as he stooped down to attempt a variety of magical remedies.

"You'll need contact at the focus with your wand tip," said Neville, "internally or–"

"–Do you take me for a fool, Longbottom!" Nevertheless, Snape's spells were having no effect on the groaning boy, who was curled up and clutching his stomach.

"No, honestly, the spell is intended to disable and be very difficult to heal quickly in a battle situation – few know how, and we're not old enough to use magic except for defence and suchlike."

Hermione quickly offered confirmation: "He's right, Mr Snape. The Jecture Jinx centres itself in the colon – I read about it in a spell book."

"GRANGER! I might have known you were behind this!" Snape's head had snapped up so rapidly that stringy, greasy hair was whipped across his face. His eyes widened in alarm at the little diary into which she was rapidly scribbling. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Making notes for the Aurors who should be here any moment."

"WHAT!" Snape shot to his feet, clearly agitated. "You wouldn't–"

"Help me..." whimpered Bole from the cobbles.

"–Quickly, Mr Snape, or you may be too late!" cried Neville, with a light nudge of his elbow on Luna's arm.

Aghast, Snape dropped once more to his knees. "Oh, very well!"

Rolling up his voluminous robe sleeves as far over his scrawny, pallid skin as he could, he pushed both forearms deep into the monumental slop that was half-burying the youth's hindquarters. Snape's groan matched Bole's for depth and disgust.

"You'll need to pull down his pants," Luna said helpfully.

"Miss Lovegood, do you suppose I don't even know where to locate his..." Snape's voice tailed off at the multiple sniggering from nearby. He couldn't know it was Hermione's tickling spell that was encouraging amusement in the thronging spectators. He pressed home, anxious to get the awful task over with as quickly as possible.

A camera flashed.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" squealed Bole, tucking his knees even tighter up to his chin.

"Phew! I think you found the focus," said Neville. The tone of his relief was quite theatrical, and laughter burst out in waves through the onlookers.

The mess and the smell vanished, to be replaced by a huge drift of lightly-scented rose petals that began to slowly fade. Snape froze in surprised annoyance, wand only half extracted from poor Bole. "It really was just a jinx?"

"I said it was," Neville's tone of indignation was not convincing.

"He was never in danger?"

"Only from your delving too deeply. That's why a wand tip touching the navel externally is recommended to counter a transverse colon jinx."

"Arrogant boy!" screamed Snape. Spittle flecked his lips. "You set this up, didn't you!"

"I could say the same for you, Mr Snape. Funny how we were brutally attacked by two much-older Slytherins, then you appeared moments later threatening expulsion, isn't it? Maybe you were trying to save Malfoy from my wrath next June?"

"FOOL! If I were trying to save anyone it would have been–" Snape broke off to check Bletchley's shoulder joint.

"Who?" snarled Neville. "Would have been WHO, Mr Snape!"

"Make way, please!"

Snape stood up. "Ah... uuh... Frank?"

"Mum! Dad!" cried Neville.

Snape whirled back to Neville. "You... you... you'd previously arranged for them to...?"

"No I didn't!" cried Neville, flailing his arms in exasperation. "We agreed to shop on a day they'd be patrolling Knockturn so we could meet later for lunch."

"Don't be so suspicious, Severus!" said Alice Longbottom, "Someone in the crowd called us. We had no idea our son was involved!" She turned to look at the diary page that Hermione was thrusting into her hand. "What's this?"

"I made a concise summary. Thought it would give you a head start."

Alice nodded, scanned the short version then passed it to her husband. "I'll need your wands – all of them. Yours too, Severus."

"I took no part in this fiasco!" growled Snape, "other than to rectify the ill effects of a schoolboy prank that went recklessly too far!" He glared at Neville.

"Nevertheless, you WILL give me your wand," Alice said stonily, hand held out.

A sigh of resignation later and Snape passed it over.

"Mmm... quite aromatic. Cherry Glosser or...? Neville, I do wish you'd keep your wand up to such a high standard."

Neville surrendered his own rather-grubby wand, muttering with a smirk, "I'd rather not keep it up where that's been, thanks, Mum."

Miles Bletchley, trousers in shreds, was crawling out from the shop on his side, moaning.

"Oh do be quiet! A healer will be here shortly," said Alice.

Frank scowled as his reversing spell indicated a weak blasting curse was the last magic performed by Bole's wand.

"There's where it hit the side of the window frame," said Neville, pointing at a long splintered gouge. "And I was standing about... here."

"Merlin! What were you planning to do, Bole? You'd have decapitated my son if...!" Frank shook his head in disbelief. "Neville, I think you did wonderfully well to best a 6th-year bully."

"–Was trying ... quick ... smash into shop ... help Miles," Boles said rather groggily from the floor as he tried to wriggle his pants back up while still lying down. "These two ... in way ... trying stop me."

"No we weren't! As I've already said, we were waiting for Hermione at the side of the doorway," sighed Neville.

Frank said, "Boles, you said Bletchley was IN the shop? Where exactly?"

"On the floor there." Boles jabbed his pointing finger but was too weak from loss of fluid to notice Snape's almost imperceptible shake of the head.

"Interesting," said Alice. "Bletchley! You must have been charging at Luna like a ruddy Manticore to end up so far within the store. ... Luna, what exactly are those books doing?"

"Monster Books of Monsters," explained Luna. "They were chomping up his trousers – but it wasn't their fault," she added in haste, as if worried the books might get arrested. "They're quite nice really, though they can't resist flies. Look, would you like me to show you how they–"

"–Not now, Princess," murmured Neville as a very large woman in a starched white uniform arrived and stooped to examine the wretched Bletchley.

"Collar bone," she declared loudly, and clamped a small field pellet of Skele-Gro between his lips, causing him to gag and squirm against her experienced grip. Only when he swallowed did she release him and cast a charm at his groin. "Inflammation ... swelling ... abrasions. Here, rub this in – vigorously, mind!" She handed Bole a little tub of evil-looking ointment.

Luna hissed in air through her teeth.

"What? Think you know better, do you, Miss...?"

"Lovegood. Only... well, won't tincture-of-mirth sting really really badly on open wounds?"

"Of course it will! Also causes headache, ringing in the ears, vertigo, itching, and..." – the healer's recitation of any other side effects was obscured by Bletchley's scream which was so piercing, a great many pigeons scattered.

The large lady seemed not to notice as she cast a charm at Bole. "Somewhat debilitated is all..." Her wand hosed cold water at his gaping mouth, drenching him in the process.

She turned to Alice. "You'll be holding these miscreants?"

"A clear attempt at grievous assault," nodded Mrs Longbottom. "Might even be charges of intent to kill."

"Absolutely ridiculous!" raged Snape. "It was a misunderstanding only – a reaction to provocation. I'll stand as witness."

"Witness?" Alice frowned and looked down at Hermione's notes. "You hadn't even arrived according to this."

"NOR HAD SHE!" shrieked Snape, who was now furious at Hermione's interference.

"But she recorded my son's words as 'you appeared moments later'. Can you confirm that, Neville?"

"Absolutely. Mr Snape was right on cue as usual, deliberately misinterpreting what actually happened."

"What is there to misinterpret! Your victims were writhing on the floor!" Snape was shaking with anger at Neville's coolness. Why was he showing no sign of nervousness?

Alice Longbottom frowned. "What is the purpose of your being here at this time, Severus?"

Snape struggled for time to control himself. "I submitted several corrections to the publishers of Standard Potions Grade Three and wished to determine if my recommended changes actually show in the books currently on sale. Anyone not properly versed in the subtleties of potion-making might find themselves rather ... put out this year." He glared at Hermione who stuck her nose in the air and smirked. She was well aware of the errors having herself transcribed the revised versions of the text in 2028. And she knew if Snape was hoping she did not have a third-year teaching qualification, then he was going to be bitterly disappointed.

"BATHILDA BAGSHOT SAFELY RETURNED!" bellowed the news vendor from the corner of Knockturn Alley, waving the late morning edition of The Daily Prophet to attract attention. The fickle onlookers surged in the direction of this new entertainment – not before Alice and Frank grabbed two or three to give evidence.

"Neville, we'll have to cancel lunch," said Mr Longbottom just before they Disapparated away with their captives.

The moment they'd gone, Snape snarled "Out of my way!" then lunged past Neville into Flourish and Blotts to be quickly obscured by shoppers.

"Is it three years?"

"Is what, Hermione?" said Neville, scowling after Snape.

"Bathilda Bagshot finally back from her research trip – oh, Hello, Mum."

"Did I miss anything?" said Mrs Granger breathlessly.

.

The Masquerading Minor

Lunch at the Leaky Cauldron was soup and sandwiches – though Luna insisted on a jammy pudding. Neville watched her eat, entranced by the smudge of strawberry on the tip of her nose. Mrs Granger's eyes were on her daughter who was engrossed in the Daily Prophet, oblivious of the tankard of Butter Beer she clutched in one hand.

"What's so interesting, Hermione?"

"Mmm...? Oh, Bathilda Bagshot is a famous historian. There's a rumour she possesses something called Merlin's Onyx, but what it does nobody knows. If it exists at all, then I suspect it works like a divining rod to uncover or point her to historical artifacts that help with research. She's just returned from a very long trip and soon she'll be writing a new book refuting Herodotus' refutation of troglodytic witchcraft – within six months or so as I recall. I only perused it a few times for a bit of light reading so I'm a bit hazy on the exact date."

Luna finished scraping up the last of her dessert and gazed around the public bar. "This is a nice and cosy private alcove isn't it – like a little room beside a big room so you get the best of both." She opened a little purse. "That's only six Sickles so I've still got... fourteen Galleons, two Sickles, and... four Knuts to spend. Did you know you can buy a thin acre of dust for only twelve Galleons? That would leave me over two for something frivolous. He's rather clever, don't you think? I doubt he would slip up intentionally."

She opened the large bag that lay on the wooden settle beside her and pulled out some of the new schoolbooks she'd bought that day.

"Who?" said Neville, still dreamily reluctant to tell the object of his affections to wipe her face.

"Mr Snape."

Hermione looked up. "You think he was trying to get Neville expelled to save him from Malfoy, don't you? – aah, no! you're not taking Divination are you?" she added after glimpsing Unfogging the Future on the spine of one of Luna's books.

"Or is that simply what Mr Snape wants us to think?" Luna teased out Unfogging from her pile of books, and began to flip through its pages. "No, I only wanted to learn why I'm not going to take the subject."

"Huh?" said Neville. "And... huh?"

"Snape fooled Voldemort for years," said Hermione, "maybe now he's fooling us. Neville, we need to speak to Daphne Greengrass when we get back to Hogwarts and have established regular practice with her. Find out why she seemed so sure you couldn't beat Draco."

"Doesn't matter what tricks he has up his sleeve, I can beat Malfoy. I've been training since I was seven – well, since you taught me that first Lumos spell in our garden, remember?" Neville smiled at the recollection; his life had changed from that moment on.

"Don't become overconfident, Neville," cautioned Hermione. "Luna, now you've finished your meal I'd like to – oh, you've got something on your nose, did you know?"

Neville offered his napkin to Luna who used it to wipe the jam from her face. "Here you are, Monster Book!" she cried happily, as she fed the used napkin to her Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

Hermione blinked a few times before trying again. "Luna, uuh... Neville said in his message he'd told you about my–"

"–Oh, yes!" Luna squealed, and clapped her hands excitedly in anticipation.

"–about my familiar, I mean?" said Hermione.

"Pretending to be Morgana? Yes, Neville explained it all wonderfully. Is Aculus here already? He is, isn't he? I couldn't detect a single Wrackspurt, you see, which is a dead giveaway in a tavern. They're attracted by beer fumes, you know, then float in your ear and make your brain go fuzzy."

"On the arm of the settle at the end there where nobody can see him." Hermione pointed as Aculus became visible.

"Oh, you're lovely!" cried Luna. She gazed at the bird with delight. "How I wish I'd saved you some pudding! What do ravens like best?"

"Well, I am rather partial to the flute solo in Ravel's Boléro," said Aculus.

Luna nodded vigorously in agreement. "Daddy said he wasn't really a Squib but all his magic came out as music."

While the little girl and the raven chatted, another bird, an owl, wafted in to perch on the outer arm of the settle next to Hermione who took its message then gasped as she began to read. "Draco! Visiting Theo Nott!"

"Draco's gone to see Nott? That proves it, surely?" said Neville, then added in a low voice, "that Nott's an Arcanist?"

"Not sure what to make of it. Draco was disguised, but so poorly it was obviously him. He's been in there over an hour. Perhaps he was sent to warn Nott he's being watched! Mike's agents said Theo peered out the doorway briefly then checked at every window but they were Disillusioned so he couldn't have detected them."

As she passed the note to Neville, he said, "How could Draco know Theo was being watched?" He studied the message carefully, tracing every detail of the disguise with his finger.

Mrs Granger frowned. "Is this the house with the curses I told you to stay away from?"

"Yes, Mum," said Hermione with a tone of impatience, "I'm leaving it to the – Neville? What have you found?"

Neville had straightened up in his seat, eyes blazing. "It's Harry!"

"Who is?"

"Only one person I know with jackboots, an eyepatch and a blue cape – Harry!"

Hermione shook her head in worried disbelief as she snatched back the message. "This boy had blond hair."

"So did Ginny," said Luna. "Harry was there when you showed her your hair-lightening charm, and it was an easy spell to learn, wasn't it?"

"But Draco had his wand out! Sirius locked up Harry's in his safe!"

"What if Harry found the key?" smiled Luna. "Or used a make-believe stick? Neville and I often–"

"–Luna's right," Neville cut in hastily. "Harry's been cooped up too long. He's always been eager to get out and do things. Ron told me he was quick in volunteering to rescue me from non-being even as a first-year! And he was very disappointed he wasn't on the Gates of Life adventure. In Crest, he leads by example, and takes the stings as well as dishes them out. I don't think he'd hesitate to walk into a lion's den even without a wand."

Hermione was on her feet before Neville had finished talking, but her mother grabbed her arm. "You promised me, Hermione!"

"I have to... I just have to, Mum."

"What if it's not him?"

"Let's deliver Harry's new schoolbooks to his home," said Luna.

"His...?"

"As a ruse to see if he's missing, you see? I mean, what better ruse than to really take his books because we have to anyway in a few days so it's not even a ruse."

"And if he's not there?"

Mrs Granger said quite firmly, "Then Sirius and a hundred Aurors can rescue him, not you!"

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The Boy Who Slept

The expression of instant concern on Hestia Black's face betrayed a mother's deep-seated instincts and anxieties. "I thought you weren't bringing his books till Thursday?"

"We wanted to surprise him, of course!" smiled Luna, leaning her weight forward as did Neville and Hermione beside her, all anxious to enter number twelve.

"Surprise him?" frowned Hestia. "With schoolbooks?"

"He is in, isn't he?" frowned Neville, becoming suspicious at the lack of welcome.

"In? Of course he's–" Mrs Black's mouth remained wide open for several moments before she continued, "–why wouldn't he be? He had a slight headache and went to lie down an hour or so ago."

"You've seen him since?" demanded Hermione, more firmly.

"SIRIUS, it's Harry!" screamed Hestia. She'd turned and fled to the stairs before her next hurried gasp of air.

Without invitation, the three children chased after her. "Did he not come down to lunch?" Hermione breathlessly called after her.

"What's happened!" Sirius was leaping after them two steps at a time, wand held forward. "Kreacher! I told you to watch over Harry!"

Alerted by the commotion, the house elf had popped into view at the top of the stairs. "Young Harry not wake since Master watch he drink sleepy potion."

"Drinking can be smoothly faked with a series of vanishing spells!" barked Sirius. "I knew it! I knew he was too agreeable to drink that stuff!"

Hestia was quietly knocking on Harry's door, her ear pressed upon it listening. Sirius did not wait but burst straight through. "HARRY!"

Silence greeted them.

On the bed, face up and motionless except for the steady rise and fall of his breathing, was Harry, still in normal day clothes apart from shoes which Sirius almost tripped over as he sprinted over. The boy's only covering was an open book that lay limply clutched across his chest.

"You're not fooling anybody, Harry!" Sirius shook his son's shoulder. Then again – so vigorously that the book slid off onto the floor with a thud.

"Stop, stop, Sirius," said Hestia. Her wand was casting a spell over the prone figure as she pushed her husband aside. "Sleeping. Deeply asleep. Magical sleep. No question he did take that potion – he couldn't have faked it without magic anyway."

"Kreacher?" Sirius's irritation was turned on the poor old elf in the doorway.

"As Master orders, Kreacher looks in on young Harry after one hours and again another hours."

"He's been asleep two hours?" Hermione felt a smile of relief relaxing her taut jaw.

"So what's the problem!" snapped Sirius. "Why the damned hullabaloo? I almost hexed my leg off when you shouted, Hest!"

"Mike's surveillance team saw someone enter Nott's house maybe... ninety minutes or more ago," said Hermione. "Actually I'm not certain of the precise time because their owl would take... then Mike's owl to me..." She counted fingers then gave up.

"Doesn't matter. How long was he in there?"

"Erm... he's still in there last we heard."

Sirius watched Neville and Luna admiring Harry's Favourites shelf then he heaved a sigh. "Oh well, better safe than sorry, I suppose. Look, don't worry, Hestia, you know he can't get out without that siren triggering, nor can he silence it throughout the house – not that he can do any magic anyway without his wand because I've put another asp hex on my safe."

"How much sleep potion did he have?" said Hermione.

"Two or three hours' worth at least," said Mrs Black. She smiled at Luna who was now settled in cross-legged on the floor reading Harry's fallen book. "You want to wait?"

"Thanks, Hestia," said Hermione. "Sorry for the ruckus."

"That's okay. We're all on tenterhooks." She smiled the smile of release. "Kreacher, bring refreshments up for our guests."

"Yes, Mistress, Kreacher lives to serve."

.

—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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