Chapter 154: Bogeyman in the Cupboard

It seemed a thing they did: take a day off together, hidden largely away in their bedroom, after some bad event. And it worked as it had before, Hermione found. Just spending time alone with Sirius was not only something she craved, it felt right.

On the kitchen table, when Hermione and Sirius went down for dinner, someone had left an open pamphlet. Hermione slid it over as she took a seat.

'Left by Mr Weasley,' Kreacher informed them from the cooking area. 'He thinks Masters would find it interesting. Kreacher,' he added, hauling a large fry pan off the stove, 'wants to know how many Dementors are really coming onto the mainland.'

It seemed Kreacher was referencing a mention of Dementors in the pamphlet. Hermione started at the beginning, frowning down at it. View From the Round Table appeared to be the name of the publication, written in large letters at the top of the three pages of text. Below the name was the helpful addition "A NEWSLETTER" that made the pamphlet look even more amateur than the walls of text, simple headings, and inexpertly formatted name achieved on their own.

'Have you seen Dementors?' Sirius asked Kreacher curiously, as he sat down next to Hermione.

His head becoming more visible over a worktop, Kreacher drew himself up to the fullest extent of his diminutive height.

'Kreacher fought at Hogwarts,' he reminded Sirius. 'Kreacher threw hot oil at Dementors.'

Surprised, Sirius's eyebrows shot up. He considered the elf over Hermione's head.

'Did it work?' he asked.

Not really, Kreacher admitted. What had worked better was chaining the Dementors' wrists to the ground, though that too had only deterred them for as long as the elves could keep replacing the shackles. The Dementors had repeatedly cracked them off and slipped free.

Hermione's eyes ran through the pamphlet. That it was written by one of Wiseman Hugh's followers was evident in both the first heading, Wiseman Hugh Incarcerated on Trumped Up Charges, and in the sign off at the end that indicated a "Wisegirl Wendy" had been the author. That this was, indeed, a cult seemed obvious: the first line of the wall of text was "It is with devastation we report our Enlightened Herald, Wiseman Hugh, has been sentenced to eighteen months in the Fortress of Azkaban". That, plus the notable distinction of Wendy being a "Wisegirl" rather than a "Wisewoman" somewhat contradicted the publication's name. A "round table", Hermione would assume, suggested an egalitarian group, rather than one with a visible hierarchy.

Smuggling and Muggle baiting, the pamphlet reported, were Wiseman Hugh's charges – charges Wendy asserted were mendacious. From what the Order had heard from Percy, Wiseman Hugh had been implicated in smuggling gone wrong when the improperly-cast Imperious Curses on three Muggles had them picked up by Umbridge's Border Guard. According to Wendy, all Wiseman Hugh had done was "purchase from seemingly legitimate merchants an essential component for a Dragon Pox preventative so he could save everyone from terrible sickness". Mandrake, Hermione recalled, for Wiseman Hugh's eel eye and mandrake soup.

In fairness to Hugh, it was entirely possible that was all he'd done, and Umbridge had just been happy to hand down an eighteen month Azkaban sentence without proof he'd done more.

Looking up at Sirius, Hermione pointed to Hugh's sentence.

'Did the Order know about this?' she asked.

Sirius lifted his eyes from the pamphlet and met Hermione's. He pulled a small shrug, then shook his head.

'I didn't,' he said.

Then either it had happened recently, and Brian hadn't passed it on yet, or Sirius hadn't been paying much attention to Order business recently. Hermione caught the inside of her lip between her teeth, feeling the return of her deep guilt.

Sirius didn't go back to silent reading, though.

'Remarkable,' he said, 'that they can be so close, yet so far. And being melodramatic about it is not going to get people to agree Umbridge needs the boot.'

Moving on from the report of Hugh's imprisonment, Hermione sought the part Sirius was referencing:

The Minister told us strengthening the Border was to keep dark wizards out but our contacts abroad tell us she's been telling other countries its to keep an epidemic of dragon pox in Britain from getting out. Our Round Table crise MISINFORMATION. He-Who-Was-Defeated wasn't a foreign threat, and our information tells us the border was made impossible to pass before the Dragon Pox outbreak. No one can get out of the country but Dementors are swarming the coastline and the Dragon Pox has jumped containment. We are ALL being LIED to. Umbridge IS NOT PROTECTING US. The Minister is locking us inside a country while she lets Dementors and Pox spread through us all. She is closing the borders so we can't bring remedies in. She is LOCKING US ALL UP TO DIE like she locked our Wiseman Hugh up when he tried to save us all.

If that was what Wiseman Hugh had been telling his followers, then Hermione could understand why he had followers. It wasn't a hard way to spin what was happening. People noticing that apothecaries were running out of stock, that any imports they were after were disappearing; travel abroad being denied, Ministry services failing, healthcare suddenly becoming an enormous out-of-pocket expense… Get a group of people together all talking about that, then add in the Dragon Pox, any sightings of Dementors on the mainland, and a charismatic leader who tells them he's there to save them from a great and imminent danger…

'I don't know about that,' Hermione replied, belatedly, to Sirius. 'I think fear mongering will do a lot for many people. Make them question whether Umbridge really is working in their best interests, at least – especially if what it says about the Dementors and Dragon Pox jumping containment is true.' Moving on to the next section of the pamphlet, Hermione added wryly, 'It's the terrible grammar that will make people doubt this. If Wendy's trying to spread the word, she's not doing herself any favours.'

'Mm,' Sirius tipped his head in genial agreement. 'You and Skeeter could do better,' he said pointedly.

It was something to raise at the next Order meeting, once they'd heard a fuller report of public sentiment.

The pamphlet went on to assert that the entire Wizarding population of the village of Tundringham, on the other side of the UK from Wales, had come down with Dragon Pox, and then, under its final heading, wrapped up the newsletter with an advertisement for Wiseman Hugh's Pox Preventative.

'Can't imagine that would sell well,' Sirius remarked as Harry thumped down to join them in the kitchen, 'if having an orgy in it is essential.'

'I'm sure they've found a way to promise people it can be drank,' Hermione said, folding the pamphlet up. 'Though I do hope what they're bottling is new rather than recycled.'

'Wouldn't count on it,' said Harry, taking a chair across from them. 'Percy's mate from the Ministry says they're still telling people the preventative has mandrake and eels' eyes in it. Unless they've managed to get more black market mandrake, they're either lying about what's in it, or reusing the old stuff.'

Hermione pulled a face.

'So we got this from Percy?' she asked, indicating the pamphlet.

Harry nodded.

'Hugh's followers seem to be trying to send it to every Wizarding household,' he said. 'But as they only have about two owls, it's taking a while.

'Brian says there actually is evidence Hugh knew about the smuggling,' Harry went on. 'That Hugh organised it. Whether he knew about the use of Imperious Curses on Muggles, the Ministry has no evidence for. And Hugh hasn't actually been sentenced to Azkaban yet – they're saying 18 months, but with Cornfoot missing, we don't have a full Wizengamot, so they can't sentence anyone. Hugh's sitting in the Ministry holding cells, awaiting sentencing.'

That surprised Hermione.

'Cornfoot's missing?' she asked.

She saw her answer in Sirius's nod.

'No idea where he is,' Sirius provided.

Hermione wondered whether even Wendy knew Wiseman Hugh hadn't been sentenced yet. It was very possible the Ministry had told her he was, not wanting to admit that a Wizengamot member was AWOL.

About the other claims the pamphlet made, Harry shrugged.

'Remus says it doesn't seem like all of Tundringham is infected, but Poppy did report that there are two known cases there, and that the village is on amber alert. For Dementors,' he went on, casting a wary look at Sirius, 'they don't seem to be swarming, but Audrey says her colleague saw one in Scotland, and Minerva passed on a report from Abberforth that Dementor sightings are a big topic of conversation in the Hog's Head.'

.

It was the next day, as the other NEWT students gathered together at Number 12, that more confirmation of Dementors on the mainland reached Hermione's ears.

'There was one in Hogsmeade yesterday,' Neville told them as they climbed the stairs. 'Pomona saw it – it came right up to her house and hung around for a while.'

It was a much more worrying report than they'd heard before. Hermione's eyes lingered on Sirius's back. At the very least, so far, it seemed the Dementors were sticking to Scotland. Hermione didn't think she'd heard a report of any much further south than that.

'Oooh,' Ginny uttered, casting Neville a wary look. 'Is she okay?'

Neville nodded.

'Pomona locked herself into her house, and the Dementor didn't try to get in,' he said. 'But it went through the whole village. No one from the Ministry came to help, of course,' he went on. 'Aberforth had to use that Caterwauling Charm to get everyone inside and bolting their doors. He called the alarm – and thankfully people listened. It doesn't look like anyone got hurt.'

The people of Hogsmeade would remember the Caterwauling Charm from when Voldemort's supporters had used it to keep the village locked down. Hearing it would make an impact. And it seemed, to Hermione, that Aberforth had taken up something of a sheriff's role in the village, stepping in in the face of a Ministry that did nothing.

'What about Minerva?' Hermione asked. The cottage Minerva was sharing with her nephew's family wasn't far from Pomona's.

'Didn't go near her place,' Neville said. 'She spotted it in the distance, though.'

'Why not?' said Ron. 'McGonagall's house is closer to Hogsmeade than Sprout's. You think it'd try to terrorise everyone on the way.'

'Fidelius Charm?' suggested Harry. 'Does that hide people from Dementors?' he asked hopefully.

Though Harry was asking her, Hermione wasn't sure. She spotted Sirius, up ahead, shake his head.

'Doubt it,' he said, rather ominously. 'Dementors don't rely on sight, and the Fidelius Charm doesn't work the same on non-humans. Pretty sure a Dementor would still sense a human presence in there, even if it couldn't get in.'

Hermione supposed that was at least half a hope for their own household, then.

'Did it just leave?' Ron asked. 'The Dementor? Or is it still wandering Hogsmeade?'

'Just left,' said Neville. 'And I don't really understand that. Why would it just leave?'

'Got its fill feeding off people's souls,' Sirius said darkly. 'Went home after a feast.'

It was a creepy notion. Hermione shuddered. And, thankfully, they left the topic behind after that.

She hadn't devised anything in particular for the students to learn, but it didn't seem to matter. They each had their own things they wanted to work on. Sticking with Sirius for the assistance he could provide them, they followed him up into his old bedroom.

'You look good,' Ginny commented to Hermione.

Looking over, Hermione saw Ginny eyeing her. What Ginny probably meant was that Hermione looked better. But, then again, it could simply be a compliment directed at the skirt Ginny had given her for her birthday. Gratifying Sirius, and, through him, Hermione too, it had only taken a day for her jeans to go back to being far from comfortable done up. Hermione was wearing the skirt for a second day.

Unsure whether to thank Ginny or apologise for her past behaviour, Hermione found a smile instead. Ginny eyed it, then caught Hermione's sleeve, hanging them back as the others went on into Sirius's old bedroom.

Ginny made sure they'd passed out of sight, involved with their own conversation, before pulling Hermione a little further aside.

'You okay?' she asked, considering Hermione closely.

Hermione pulled another smile.

'Better,' she said honestly.

Ginny thought for a second, then tipped her head towards the bedroom.

'He didn't do anything, did he?'

Sure Ginny was talking about Sirius, Hermione lowered her voice. She'd prefer it if Sirius didn't hear.

'… What do you mean?'

'You know…' Ginny said slowly, though, thankfully, quietly. She cast another look at the open bedroom door. 'Well,' she went on in more of a whisper, 'you know, it's happened a few times now: he hides you away for a bit, and then you come out happier…' She gave Hermione a significant look. 'Told us all to keep away and not tell anyone…'

'He did that,' Hermione said hastily, 'because it was what I wanted – to be left alone.'

How exactly Sirius resulting in Hermione being happier was cause to suspect Sirius of something nefarious, Hermione didn't know. But she shook her head and went on, 'He's not locking me up and feeding me… happy pills, Ginny. He just…' Hermione chewed the inside of her lip. She really didn't want to have this conversation. 'He just,' she tried again, even more quietly, 'lets me lose it, then comes in after to… let me know he still loves me and everything will be okay.'

She'd finished that bit in a rush. It was true. And saying that truth made Hermione blabber on.

'I was awful to him, Ginny!' she hissed. 'Oh – I feel so guilty! But he just stuck around – put up with it…'

Ginny was already nodding. She rubbed Hermione's arm.

'Want to talk about it?'

Hermione shook her head. She blinked hard, trying to dispel the first prickles of tears. There was no way she wanted to cry right now. Sirius would see, and he'd get worried all over again.

'Not really,' she said, and pulled a tough smile. More to stay the tears than anything. 'But thanks, Ginny.'

Thankfully, Ginny left it at that. And, when she interrupted Sirius's painting a bit later to bug him for an Occlumency lesson, she didn't treat him like she suspected him of anything.

Since Hermione had last seen it, Sirius's old bedroom had gone from a hodgepodge of Gryffindor teenage rebellion plastered over the posh trappings of a bigoted pureblood family, to a room stripped bare, the first coat of white paint already dry on the walls. Seeing it, it was the only renovated room in the house that gave Hermione a pang – almost like, just maybe, she'd have liked the chance to say goodbye to what it had been before it'd been stripped and sanded down.

She found herself, too, watching Sirius as, without hesitation, he took a paintbrush to the walls, wondering at how he could, with apparent ease, just erase the only room of the house that had originally reflected him. It seemed uncomfortably final to just wipe away any sign of your childhood bedroom like that.

But then, Hermione decided, she was probably more emotional about this than Sirius would be. She'd have loved to have had a chance to bid a better farewell to her childhood home. Her old room.

With Hermione helping, it didn't take long to finish the room, but, entrenched in various activities, they didn't move elsewhere.

'It does look like you're understanding it,' she assured Neville, for the second time. Standing both a safe distance from the wet paint on the wall and the bumbling golem Harry and Ron had Conjured, Hermione was trying to take Neville through the Spagyric concoction he'd attempted to devise. 'Erm… you should show this to Sirius too, when…' Hermione glanced over. What had begun as Occlumency practise appeared to have shifted into something that involved Ginny's wand pointed at Sirius as he pulled quite a remarkable expression. '… he's done making faces at Ginny.'

'I get some of it,' Neville said mournfully.

'Well,' Hermione said, 'it's just the Nutterblossom spines… They're an ephemeral class – transient.' She contemplated Neville, wondering how best to explain it. It really was a pity he hadn't decided to take potions. That subject would have helped him with Spagyric. 'You're trying to cure something a bit like itchy piles but caused by a worm with fangs that latches on and doesn't let go. So…' Hermione paused, wanting to give Neville a chance to work it out.

'That's why I chose the spines,' he moaned, raising both hands to rub into tired-looking eyes. 'It's near impossible to get those things out of you when you get stuck.'

Hermione grimaced sympathetically. Neville had spent the better part of the past two weeks trying to come up with this concoction.

A loud clunk from across the room had them all, Harry and Ron's half-moulded golem included, spinning around to look.

Isolated under a large, thick-walled glass dome, surrounded by the flapping products of a Bat-Bogey Hex, stood Ginny. She was glaring daggers at Sirius as he doubled over with laughter. Ginny crossed her arms, looking like the surly subject of the most bizarre snow globe Hermione had ever seen.

'Harry,' she griped, 'your godfather's an arse.'

Sirius coughed on his laugher. Inhaling deeply, he stood straight.

'You were asking for it,' he told her.

'What…?' Hermione frowned at them. 'What in the world are you two up to?'

Ginny looked over at her. Sirius did the same, though he'd gone back to sniggering.

'Duelling,' Ginny said as Sirius just looked amused.

Ron snorted.

'Good luck, Gin,' he said, turning back to the red-haired anthropomorphic thing standing stupidly in the middle of the room.

'For your information, Ronald,' Ginny called back to him, 'I was holding my own until now!'

''Cause he let you,' Ron said, in an undertone.

Luckily, Ginny didn't seem to hear. She'd returned to glaring at Sirius. He smiled placidly back at her.

'Let me out, Sirius,' she said, her tone low and impressively threatening.

'Or…?' Sirius leant against the outside of the dome. 'You're going to make me nick Kreacher's towel?'

In a heartbeat, Ginny's expression changed to a far sweeter one. It was one that did tend to work on the oldest of her brothers.

'I might give that another go,' she said easily. 'But we both know I won't succeed anytime soon. No, you'll let me out because you're going to get bored of keeping me in here pretty quickly.'

'Mmm?' Sirius shifted to lean more comfortably against the dome. 'You have a bogey trying to climb down the back of your top.'

'If you don't let me out now, Sirius,' Ginny said, smiling, 'I'll tell mum you've taken up smoking again.'

Sirius's eyes narrowed. He kept the malevolent look up for another second, then stood up from the dome and reached for his wand.

'Harry,' he said grouchily, 'your girlfriend plays dirty.'

Having been caught halfway through a yawn, Harry nodded. He blinked his watering eyes.

'I know,' he said simply, then acquiesced to Ron's insistent elbowing by turning back to their project.

'Is that supposed to look like Ron?' Neville asked Hermione, eyeing the boys' attempt at human Conjuration.

'I expect it looks more like him if you turn around, bend over, and view it from between your knees with your eyes nearly shut,' Hermione said dryly. 'Now, Neville, I understand what you're getting at with the Nutterblossom spines. The thing is, you've already used that here,' she indicated an earlier step in Neville's recipe, 'with the Bindi hooks. You could even replace the Bindi hooks with the Nutterblossom spines and still have the concoction work – just not as well, I don't think, the hooks are the better option. But you see, that's not what you need for this step. You've already isolated the cause of the condition – you've set the concoction up to work on the worms. But you don't have anything in this concoction that will tie it together into a cohesive remedy and kill the worms.'

'So…' Neville took back the piece of parchment. 'I need something that will do both…'

Hermione waited as he pondered it. She was pretty sure Neville knew plants and what they did better than she did. He just had to come up with which was best in this case.

Finally, Neville lifted a frown to Hermione.

'Tetterwort?' he asked.

Hermione smiled.

'That's what I'd use too,' she said, feeling oddly proud of Neville. 'But do you know why?'

A self-conscious smile appeared on Neville's kind face. He chuckled a little.

'Because Sirius said it's almost never the most obvious ingredient,' he admitted, 'and the most obvious ingredient is bloodwort.'

Resigned, Hermione just nodded. If Neville understood that bloodwort was the most obvious ingredient, then he was most of the way there. But she advised him to still show the concoction to Sirius for a more practised eye.

Across the room, Sirius had just deflected Ginny's latest jinx by turning the jet of pale blue light into, of all things, a bonsai tree. It fell and scattered itself across the floor. Around him, Hermione saw more random objects: a teacup, a large cushion, a cart wheel, and a barrel with a very large bunghole. She didn't need Sirius's grin to tell her he was having fun annoying Ginny by turning her efforts to hex him into odds and ends.

'Just,' Hermione added to Neville, 'be prepared, when you do show him, for him to spend the next half hour after he says it'll work talking you through a hundred and one ways you could make it even stronger. Or work on a donkey.'

'Oh –' Neville's gaze had switched to over Hermione's shoulder. 'Watch out!'

Instinctively, Hermione ducked. She wouldn't have had she known what she was supposed to be watching out for was Harry and Ron's galumphing golem. It collided with her back, making her stumble into Neville's catching hands.

'Ah – sorry Hermione!' called Harry as Ron uttered a 'Whoops…'

Darting with Neville out of the golem's way, they made it to safety by another wall. Hermione turned to send the two boys and unimpressed look.

A pair of cymbals clattered to the floor by Sirius's feet. Wand still trained on Ginny, he glanced over.

'You all right Mione?'

'I'm fine,' Hermione supplied. 'You do realise,' she said to Harry and Ron, 'that human Conjuration is beyond the scope of our Transfiguration course? Have either of you managed to Conjure a non-human mammal larger than a squirrel yet?'

'Erm…' Ron thought about it, his eyes drifting up to consider the ceiling.

'Yes,' said Harry. 'I got a pretty good fox the other day. Whiskers and everything.'

'... No,' Ron decided, his eyes travelling back down from the ceiling.

'So if the examiner asks you to Conjure a giraffe,' Hermione said, exasperated, 'you're going to tell them what? "Sorry Ma'am, I can't. I can, though, Conjure a half-baked, even more imbecilic version of my best friend"?'

'Why would they ask us to Conjure a giraffe?' asked Ron, frowning at Hermione. 'Even the Great Hall would have a hard time fitting one of them in it.'

'You missed the bit where she called you an imbecile, mate,' Harry provided helpfully.

Ron frowned at him.

'Nah,' he said, 'pretty sure she it was you she called an imbecile. I'm your best mate.'

Hermione left them to figure that out. The half-baked imbecile under discussion was attempting to make an escape through the open door. Pointing her wand at it, Hermione slowed it down until it came to a stop. The golem wobbled like it was made of insecurely cobbled-together play dough.

'Urgh!' Ginny complained as Sirius turned yet another of her attempts to hex him into an object – a small dog house this time. 'How are you so ruddy good at that?'

'Are you keeping your mind clear Ginny?' Harry asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.

'How,' Ginny demanded, 'am I supposed to keep my mind clear while I'm duelling? That's just illogical – you have to think up what spell to use!'

'That's the point,' Sirius said. 'You can't duel with your head. You have to duel with instinct. Here, your turn to play defence.'

'Wha – eep!' Rather than defend herself, Ginny had hopped out of the way of Sirius's silently flicked hex. He caught the spell before it burnt a hole in his freshly-painted wall, turning it into a harmless toy rabbit that rolled across the floor a few times before coming to a rest near the skirting board.

'I've got nothing against dodging,' Sirius remarked, 'but it's not really defence, is it?'

'Hmph,' Ginny shot back at him. 'My goal in life is to play chaser for England. You may have been conditioned to hit the hazardous thing flying at your head. I'm conditioned to dodge it.'

'Fair point,' Sirius acknowledged. He readied his wand again. 'Time to step out of your comfort zone – try again.'

'Look – Ron!' shouted Neville.

Too late. The calamitous humanoid-thing had stumbled over the bonsai tree. Its arms wind-milling, it careened into the barrel. That set off a domino effect of flailing golem, rolling barrel, clashing cymbals, smashing teacup, and clattering cart wheel.

'Erm…' But before Ron, his wand raised high, had figured out what to do, Harry had leapt into his line of fire, physically toppling the golem to the floor with a pretty good throw and catching the barrel with the hand not holding the poor likeness of Ron on its front.

'Good one, Harry,' Sirius commented, stopping the ringing of the cymbals with a toe. Casually, he flicked his wand, dispelling Ginny's attempt at an opportunistic hexing by turning the shaft of pink light into a blanket that slumped wetly to the ground. 'Mm…' Sirius appraised it. 'Not my best, that one.'

'What happened?'

Tonks's shout came a second before she skidded into sight through the doorway, then skidded further, knocking gracelessly into the doorframe.

'Ow…'

'Nothing,' Hermione assured her. 'It was just –'

'What in blue blazes is that?' Tonks asked, goggling at the bizarre creation Harry was pinning to the ground.

'Ron,' said Neville. 'Apparently.'

Behind Tonks, moving far more slowly, Remus stepped into sight, Teddy secure and looking curious in his arm. From the deeper lines on his face and tight-looking eyes, Hermione thought to wonder when full moon was.

'Ron?' Tonks repeated, frowning from the real one to the one squirming under Harry.

'Hah!' cried Ginny triumphantly, shooting both of her fists into the air. 'Got you!'

Hermione's eyes found Sirius. She had to snigger. The hex Ginny had finally landed on him had grown his nose into an enormous, bulbous, blotchy, and bumpy protuberance. And, as Hermione watched, it was a hexed-on nose that came with a copious amount of long, wiry nostril hair: the hairs extending further and further down, not stopping even as they reached Sirius's belt.

'You're almost average-looking now, Sirius,' Hermione said, giggling, as Sirius lifted his floor-length nostril hair up for a look at it over his remarkable proboscis.

'Don't much care for the nose,' Sirius responded, a little nasally. 'Can't see my feet anymore. But the hair's groovy.'

'Need I be wary of the creature you are sitting on, Harry?' Remus asked mildly.

'Nah,' Harry said, settling more comfortably on the wriggling golem. 'It's only dangerous if it's allowed to walk.'

'I see.' Remus stepped around Tonks and let Teddy down to explore the floor. 'Go play with your Uncle Sirius's nose hair,' he instructed the baby. 'Give it a good tug for daddy, would you?'

Teddy set off in Sirius's general direction.

Tonks didn't look quite as convinced about the room's safety. She cast a wary eye about the room.

'Oh – Sirius!' Hermione called.

He looked up from attempting to plait his nose hair.

'The teacup…'

'I've got it,' said Ginny. She pointed her wand at the broken shards and didn't need to verbalise the spell to make every broken piece of porcelain disappear.

Harry reassured Tonks the golem was just a spell by ending the enchantment on it. It was Neville Hermione's eyes returned to once the coast was clear for Teddy. Neville had leant the side of his head right up against the wet paint on the wall.

'Oh Neville,' Hermione sighed, pulling him back and drawing her wand to clean him up. 'What are you doing?'

'I thought I heard…' Neville noticed his hand, every finger now coated with paint. He grimaced. 'Sorry…'

'You been okay with the Dementors?'

It was Sirius's question, him holding his nostril hair right below his nose to protect himself from the pain of Teddy's tugging. Expecting to hear the affirmative, Hermione only glanced at Tonks and Remus. It took her another second to remember they too lived in Scotland.

'Why we're here,' Tonks said grimly. 'There's one in the village just north of us.'

'We thought it safest to leave,' Remus added.

Neville's hair and fingers clean, Hermione stared over his shoulder at them. Now she looked properly, Hermione could see a jumpy anxiety in Tonks.

In the face of Hermione and Sirius's worry, though, Tonks shook her head and pulled a smile.

'Anyone read today's Prophet?' she asked.

The question produced a chorus of 'No…', 'Nope', 'Not a chance', 'Why bother?' and Hermione's dissenting hum.

'Quidditch strike!'

Tonks had said it like an exciting pronouncement. Hermione might not care too much about Quidditch, but those around her did. Incredulous stares found Tonks.

'And that's a good thing?' Ginny asked, disbelieving.

'You haven't heard the whole story,' insisted Tonks. 'It's across the board: every team in England, Wales, Scotland, and the ol' Irish isle refusing to play. Because of Umbridge's Ministry and international relations!'

'What?' Harry and Ron said in unison.

'So they're all on our side, essentially?' asked Neville.

'Well,' said Tonks, 'on the side of getting us back in the World Cup. Whether they're more on our side or that – or if they saw that pamphlet from Wiseman Hugh's followers…' She shrugged. 'But, considering we've got a Dementor just a few miles from our home,' she went on, more wryly, 'I'm actually hoping Umbridge realises she's about to lose her voting fan base if she doesn't do something – doesn't at least banish the Dementors back to their island again.'

'They reported this in The Prophet?' Hermione asked dubiously.

'Not quite,' said Remus.

'Nope!' said Tonks, beaming. 'It's better than that! The article spins some trollop about the strike being because the players want a pay raise. Thing is, though, the photographer covering the story got a shot of several teams' players all standing with arms crossed – looking defiant and all that. Got a shot of that, and a placard that pops into the frame every once in a while, held by some clever chap who's refusing to show his face. A placard,' Tonks said significantly, 'that says: "Ministry misconduct" equals "excluded from the World Cup".'

'The paper was recalled the moment it was noticed,' said Remus. 'But the article was a front page story and a large number of copies have already been sold. It appears all the recall of the paper has achieved is to make it clearer to the public that censorship is rife.'

'And it sparked an impromptu protest outside the Ministry,' Tonks continued gleefully. 'A full march on Whitehall!'

Hermione shared an astonished look with Neville.

'Nothing tremendous,' Remus clarified. 'The latest report from Brian was a short note that the demonstration has been disbanded. It is possible the protest has not ended well for those involved.'

'Meeting tonight?' Sirius guessed. His serious look was at astounding odds with his magnificent and hirsute nose, Teddy still tugging at the dangling hairs.

Remus nodded.

'It will not be until late,' he said. 'Brian expects his day to be very busy. It is him we are most eager to hear from.'

A silence followed, no one sure just how optimistically to await news. It was broken, not with intelligent conversation, but with an abrupt and very loud sneeze. His eyes pinched shut, wrist pressed to the underside of a nose larger than his entire fist, Sirius was suddenly the centre of attention.

Staring up at Sirius, Teddy gave the rope of nostril hairs another tug.

Sirius tried to fight it.

Teddy tugged again.

'Ah-CHEW!'

Teddy burst into huge, hilarious, gurgling baby laughter. And it set the rest of the room off.

Sirius eased the rope of hairs out of Teddy's grip, pointed his wand at his nose, and put it back to normal. Hermione's gaze was caught, once again, by Neville leaning an ear towards the wall.

'D'y'reckon?' Ron said quietly behind her.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I mean – who else? He was at Hogwarts in that last battle. He wasn't there to have Umbridge as a teacher, but he's not stupid.'

'Who?' Tonks asked.

Neville lifted his head away from the wall and frowned at it.

'Oliver Wood,' Ron answered.

'He was Gryffindor team captain,' Harry explained. 'Went on to play for Puddlemere United.'

'Him with the placard?' asked Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Ron as Harry said, 'I'd bet it was.'

'I swear I heard something,' Neville said to Hermione. 'A rattling… knocking noise.'

'What?' Hermione said, lifting her wand to fix up where Neville had messed up the paint. 'Through the wall?'

'Yeah…' Neville said, nodding. 'I – erm… I think there's something in your wall, Hermione.'

'Not in the wall,' said Sirius. His voice was no longer nasally. Hermione glanced over. Sirius was walking towards them, a very unenthusiastic look on his face. 'There's a boggart in my old wardrobe,' he explained. 'I stuck it in the room next door.'

'A boggart?' Hermione frowned at him. 'You never said…'

Sirius scowled. His eyes were on the wall, but it looked like he was seeing beyond it. And he didn't like the sight.

Boggarts were third year stuff. But Hermione, scrutinising Sirius, wasn't really surprised he was far from at ease with the idea of facing one. She had thought both Sirius and Molly, back in the summer before their fifth year, had been more than ready to put off dealing with the boggart that had lived in Sirius's mother's desk.

What was Sirius's worst fear? Hermione found herself wondering, eyeing him. Dementors, she assumed, with a pang of sympathy. That would be her guess.

As for what hers was, Hermione didn't get time to contemplate it. Sirius grunted, pulled himself straight, and turned for the door.

'Bloody boggart…' he muttered as he left the room and turned towards Regulus's old one.

Not consciously deciding on it, Hermione went after him. She started a mass movement, Hermione glancing back to see the rest of the group following after her. She hesitated, not sure Sirius wanted all of them seeing his worst fear. But then… Remus had said it was always better to have company when facing a boggart…

As a group, they followed Sirius straight into the room next door. In silver and green, to contrast with the one Sirius had once decked out in red and gold, Regulus's old bedroom was cluttered with the furniture of both bedrooms, most of Sirius's old furniture piled on Regulus's bed. The wardrobe, though, occupied its own space along the floor. And it was rattling.

Bogeyman in the cupboard… It wasn't the first time Hermione had drawn that sinister connection.

Pulling her eyes from the wobbling wardrobe, she looked to Sirius. She received only a second's glimse of his face, looking focused like a warrior, before Sirius had his wand out and the wardrobe door was swinging open.

Hermione had expected a Dementor to swoosh out. Had expected to feel deep, cloying terror – had braced herself for the frigid chill.

She stared, instead, at the bedraggled figure that had staggered out of the wardrobe, dressed in what Hermione was pretty sure were Azkaban robes. Manky nest of thin brown hair, skin pale as bleached bones, the figure crumpled on the floor. There was a resounding thunk as its head connected with the one wardrobe door that was still closed.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, rubbed them, then blinked them open. It took her another moment to grasp what she was looking at.

The cheerful atmosphere of the day was abruptly absent.

This was Sirius's worst fear?

To Hermione, it looked like an animated corpse from a horror movie. Except that, instead of advancing on them, the figure was trying to defend itself. It had curled itself into a terrified ball, its head, buried against raised knees, insufficiently protected by two scrawny arms. Its shaking hands were gripped into its lank, matted hair.

A reflection of how they'd found Penelope. But…

Oozing through ragged clothing, draining from the figure to pool around it; sinking into the rug… the sight of crimson blood was a stark and unsettling contrast to the hopeless white and shadow of the figure. One of its shaking hands scraped with desperate, callous abandon into its hair, its body tightening into a single brief clench.

As Hermione stared, the hand came away, loosening from its head, limp but for the shaking, as dark bruising appeared, spreading like ink dropped on white cloth from the figure's wrist – wrapping around the arm in circles, as though hateful fingers had been at work pinching into that bare-bones arm. The arm slumped to the side, and Hermione registered the high-pitched, horrible keening emanating from the form. The sound rose to fill into her insides, amplified through Hermione's skull, as the figure's other arm flopped impotently away, falling to dangle in its own blood.

Hermione saw the face in the same moment the figure sprawled, defeatedly, open. It had one last moment of strength, and it used it to cast a look of shrinking fear right up at Sirius. Hermione's own face, she saw. She'd almost expected it. What she hadn't expected was the sunken cheeks; the battered, hollow-eyed look of her own face – the visible bruises all the way down her partially exposed body, on her chest and thighs; and the deep laceration, blood oozing horribly from it, shallow over the figure's breastbone, deep and visceral in the vertical line down past her navel.

Under Hermione's astonished stare, the horrific depiction of her fell, lifeless and flaccid; the keening lapsing away to eardrum-smothering silence, the figure's shakes dying in gradual, shuddering waves.

And then, Hermione gawping as her vision churned: an incredibly tiny, fully-formed hand poked a last, wretched grasp for life out of the figure's dissected abdomen.