A loud meow at Harry's feet made him jump. He looked down to see an enormous orange cat with yellow eyes rubbing against his legs. "Crookshanks!" Hermione came running through the crowd and swept the cat up into her arms. "Don't run off like that--hello, Harry!"
"Hi Hermione." Harry reached out to stroke Crookshanks's back. "Did you have a good break?"
"Yes," beamed Hermione, tugging at her gloves around Crookshanks's large bulk. "Viktor came up to visit."
Harry blinked. "Viktor Krum?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I was so happy; you know how my parents wouldn't hear of my going to Bulgaria..."
"Ron's going to have a fit," muttered Harry.
"Hm, what? Oh, Ron's had half a year without Crookshanks around; he'd better not complain."
Well, she completely missed the point... Harry braced himself. "So, does Ron know that Krum was over?"
"Oh, yes. Viktor said hello in a letter I sent for Christmas. Now he has his autograph twice!" Hermione looked nonplussed at the unease in Harry's face. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing. Just wondering." Dear God help us. Crookshanks is going to be the least of Ron's complaints. "Look, there he is." Harry jumped a bit and waved to the tall redhead as he clambered out of a carriage.
"My, he looks sullen."
Ron pushed through the crowd of returning students and walked up beside Harry. He grunted in reply to Harry's greeting, not looking at Hermione.
"Ron, what's wrong? Oh!" Hermione had suddenly noticed the copy of the Daily Prophet in Ron's hand. She snatched it from him, dislodging Crookshanks in the process, who jumped out of her arms and sauntered away, bottlebrush tail held high in offence. "Have you read this yet?"
"No," sulked Ron, "Why the bloody hell should I?"
His abrasiveness was lost on Hermione, who was anxious untying the ribbon around the newspaper. "Look!" she squealed, letting it fall open.
"What?" Harry leaned over and saw in bold black print at the top of the page:
THREE CLEARED DEATH EATERS FOUND DEAD
Three wizards, long proven innocent against charges of serving the Dark Lord, were found dead of the third and most Unforgivable curse in Ireland. A sinister accident? Or was this trio, found in the black robes of Death Eaters, more than what they seemed? Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet investigates--
"'Cleared Death Eaters'?" murmured Hermione, engrossed. "That's contradictory, isn't it?" She didn't seem to notice when several younger students bumped into her.
"Bloody hell," came Ron's voice from over Harry's shoulder. Apparently his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He looked up and gave Hermione a narrow look. "Herm..." Then, "Oh, God, did you have to bring that cat?!" Crookshanks had returned and was pawing at Hermione's legs.
"Shh, shh." Hermione pressed the paper to her chest as Harry tried to read the article again. "Come on, let's go inside." She began walking away, pausing to hoist Crookshanks back up.
"Hermione!"
She turned and gave them a stern look, making a gesture with her head to follow her inside. Ron made a groaning, frustrated noise and ran after her.
Harry was in numb shock as he forced his legs to move. He remembered clearly that Sirius's report to Dumbledore, including the killing of three Death Eaters in Ireland. Something else tickled at the back of his mind, as well. It bothered him deeply that he couldn't place his finger on what.
Word was finally out in the wizarding world. Harry wondered why he wanted to vomit.
****
Hermione refused to say a word until she had gotten Crookshanks and her luggage quite settled in. Ron was nearly beside himself by the time she drew them into a corner of the common room with Rita Skeeter's article.
Hermione's talent for drawing out a very simple concept into a long explanation was amazing. Ron finally interrupted.
"You let her go?!"
Hermione raised her chin defiantly. "Yes. I let her go a few days before break after threatening to tell Dumbledore that she was an unregistered Animagus if she ever touched Hogwarts again. She didn't know what was going on with the Ministry. Don't you see?" She looked eagerly into their shocked faces. "No one believed us, not even you, Harry. Everyone believes Rita Skeeter. Even Fudge can't get her under his thumb."
"Hermione," breathed Harry, "what have you done?"
"Don't you see what she's done?" exploded Ron. He launched himself forward and threw his arms around Hermione with no reservations.
Hermione yelped. "Ron!"
"You're a genius!" laughed Ron, not releasing her, "A bloody genius! She's spread the news, that's what she's done!" He drew back and whispered fiercely, "Let's see Fudge deal with this one. Let's just see him try."
Harry, detached, picked up the paper and flipped through it to the daily reminders section.
-End of Christmas break; Hogwarts semester resumes.
-A full moon tonight. Stay inside and away from woods.
Harry looked up at the laughing Ron and Hermione. He put the Daily Prophet down.
And didn't tell them a thing.
****
Harry felt sick all that morning. No word had yet come from Sirius; even Dumbledore had no news of his godfather (Harry had managed to catch him after breakfast). Tonight was the full moon, and Harry felt as weak and pale as Lupin had been the days before his transformation.
The idea of his former professor being tortured was at once unbearable and unimaginable. Harry had always known Lupin as a calm, collected man, commendably strong in his own quiet way. He couldn't break. He couldn't.
"Do you have an eating disorder, Harry?" teased Hermione, but a glint in her eye told Harry that she was half-serious. "You didn't touch a thing at breakfast."
"Making room for Hogsmeade," said Harry quickly, surprised at how easily the lies had been coming lately.
Ron started and stood to his feet. They were sitting in a quiet corner of the common room, having arranged three seats into a small, intimate circle. Having a private conversation in such a public place was surprisingly easy, as everyone was engaged in their own world of news and gossip. At the moment the words on everyone's tongues were "Death Eaters", "dead", and "You-Know-Who", and it made Harry uneasy.
"I just remembered; got some money for Christmas. Let me go get it."
"Ron, we don't leave..." Hermione checked the plain Muggle watch she had received from an aunt. "..for another half-hour." She looked after him, bemused, as he turned around halfway up the dormitory stairs.
"Er..." The tips of Ron's ears turned pink. He quickly made good his escape with a mumbled, incoherent explanation.
"He's been acting strange lately." Hermione sat back with a vaguely satisfied smile on her face. "Probably going to read over that article again." She smiled wickedly. "It's too bad Malfoy isn't back yet, you know. I was looking forward to seeing the look on his face."
Harry started. The deja vu that had been pricking at the back of his mind gave a sudden, swift kick. "Malfoy?"
Hermione raised her eyebrows, mildly shocked by Harry's vehemence. "Yes..."
"Why isn't he back...?" Harry trailed off and Hermione remained silent, watching him in a keen manner. "Oh, my God." He leaned forward and murmured, "Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. I saw him at...at...after the Triwizard Tournament. He Apparated, I swear. Did Skeeter give their names?"
Hermione frowned, catching onto Harry's point much more quickly than she had outside. "I don't know; it didn't say. You don't think..."
"I saw him, that night, I heard him," insisted Harry. "What else would keep Malfoy away?"
"But...but we don't know for sure."
I do, thought Harry, but he didn't know why.
"Harry?" Hermione peered into his face. "What is it?"
"Hm? Oh, nothing. Nothing."
Harry was saved from further questions by Ron's appearance on the stairs. "I'm done," he called down uncertainly, an amusing note of paranoia in his voice. Harry hid a smile as he wondered exactly what Ron was up to. He hoped it wasn't any kind of unpleasant revenge to be wrought upon Viktor Krum.
Well, he's not going on a bloody rampage. Can't ask for too much.
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Are you?" She smiled teasingly. "Fascinating, Ron."
"I just wanted to decide how much I want to spend," sniffed Ron, doing his best to look offended. He walked over and sat down in his chair. "When are we leaving again?"
Hermione sighed theatrically. "Can't you remember anything? Honestly." She checked her watch. "Eleven-thirty. We have twenty minutes or so."
"Great. What are you going to get, Harry? I say Zonko's; sounds like you had a terribly dull break."
Harry made a quiet choking sound; he couldn't help it.
"Harry?"
"Sorry." He coughed, trying to be convincing. "Yeah, break was boring. Jokes would be great. Oh, I'm going to get both of you Christmas presents, too...even though they're late. Say, Ron, did you get my letter?"
Ron's brow furrowed. "What letter?"
Harry blinked. "I sent you a letter over break." His eyes narrowed. "You never got it?"
Ron shook his head. "No-o-o..."
Harry felt himself turn pale. Hermione looked back and forth between the two of them. "What are you talking about, what letter?"
"But...but Hedwig, she came back! She never comes back until the errand's done...!"
"I never got it," insisted Ron, his expression worried. "Why, what'd you write?"
Harry closed his eyes and passed a hand over his brow. He wearily recounted the events of Thursday to them.
"Paul Ranone!" exclaimed Ron. "That's Percy's friend!" He added bitterly, "The one that didn't even want Percy coming home to visit over break. Wouldn't be surprised if he were a damn Death Eater. Do you think he is?"
"I don't know. Avery's one, and he's working for the Ministry."
"You say your scar hurt?" Hermione leaned forward and brushed Harry's hair away, peering with scientific interest at the scar. From the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron scowl.
"Yeah." Harry wisely pulled back. The last thing he needed was an accusation from a jealous Ron. "Whenever he looked at me, it just...burned."
"Did Snape say anything?"
"Snape didn't like him, either. And I don't think Ranone--"
Hermione stood to her feet. "Harry, wait until Hogsmeade, all right? I need to round the students up..." She walked off, shouting to the common room, "All right, everyone, we're going down to the Great Hall in five minutes; get your stuff. Third year and above only, I repeat, third year and above only. If you haven't turned in your permission slip yet give it to me and I'll see what I can do..."
Ron and Harry exchanged a look before scattering with the other students to retrieve gloves and winter robes.
****
"You didn't see Hedwig at all?"
Ron shook his head. "Dad didn't say anything." He let out a sigh and pulled at his nose. "I don't like this."
Harry's stomach, which had been behaving unpleasantly for much of the day, twisted even further. He swivelled on the barstool to face the counter and cupped his hands around his cup of butterbeer. "My God, if it fell into the wrong hands..." His shoulders slumped. What had he done?
"I'm sure it'll turn up, Harry." Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah," said Ron quickly. "I'll write back home, ask them to look for it. It'll turn up."
Harry took a breath and shook his head. He slid down from the stool.
"Where're you going?"
"Stay here." He tried to smile. "I'm getting you guys your Christmas presents."
"Really, Harry, you don't--" protested Hermione.
"Yes, I do. Besides, I think Ron has something to give you." Harry smirked wickedly at Ron, who turned red and quickly extracted his hand from his pocket. He had been fingering something in his robes the entire trip. Before Hermione could ask or Ron do something unpleasant, Harry turned and made good his escape out into the streets of Hogsmeade.
A light snow flurried through the air, stinging his face and finding exposed skin on his neck. Harry bent his head against the wind and trudged through the crowd toward Kullener's Odds and Ends. It seemed a promising place to find something of interest for Ron and Hermione besides the fact that it was a quiet, unfrequented store where Harry could browse--and think--in peace.
"Strange place to shop, Potter."
"Ah!" Harry jumped and whirled around.
Rysk raised her eyebrows. "Sorry." Amusement flickered across her face.
"I'm just looking around," muttered Harry, turning back to the shelves. He picked up a Rememberall to prove his point.
"You really shouldn't wander too far from people."
"Have you been following me?" demanded Harry.
"Trailing, guarding, shadowing...take your pick." Rysk's voice was as cool as the snow. Harry could feel her eyes on the back of his head. "Bit late for Christmas shopping, isn't it?"
Harry cursed inwardly, wondering exactly how much of their conversation she had overheard. "I forgot about it," he said shortly.
"Ah. How about this?" Rysk walked a little farther down the shelf and indicated a silver and green dragon that flowed around and around in its crystal case, liquidly graceful. "Made of safe mercury and some dragon blood synthate. It can become a necklace, a tattoo...a moving tattoo..."
Harry had come over for a closer look, his interest piqued, only to feel his lip curl reflexively at the dragon's colors. He shook his head.
Rysk laughed so mockingly that Harry felt instantly insulted. He turned around to see a look of disgusted satisfaction flickering in her cold eyes. "Have they taught you to hate the colors, too?" Her smirk was one of condescending contempt. "Idiots, the whole lot of you students..." She shook her head and started to walk off.
Harry felt anger and confusion color his cheeks. He ran after her. "Wait, wait, what are you talking about?"
Rysk dropped her head toward her shoulder to glance at him. "If the dragon were gold and red, Potter, would you have bought it?"
Harry blinked. "Well...yeah."
"That's what I'm talking about." Rysk stopped and waited, as if she could practically hear the wheels struggling to turn in Harry's head; as if she were trying hard not to laugh about it.
"Silver and green are Slytherin colors." Harry gave Rysk a narrow look; he didn't understand why she didn't understand.
"And God forbid you touch Slytherin colors, because Slytherin is evil incarnate, right?"
Harry's mouth opened and shut. Well, when you put it that way... "Well...no, er...yeah, I mean, look at it, every single person in there turned out a Death Eater or something."
Rysk turned fully around to stare at Harry. "Every single one? Wow. That's a lot of dark wizards, Potter."
Her sarcasm cut the air like a knife, rendering all of Harry's justifications for abhorring Slytherin, which had seemed so strong and logical for five years, pathetic and laughable. "No, no, not every single one, but...they're all...they're all cheaters and liars and..." He trailed off, acutely aware of how ridiculous he sounded beneath Rysk's piercing gaze.
"I was in Slytherin, Potter." Rysk rolled up her sleeve and exposed a perfectly unmarred forearm to Harry. "Do you see a Dark Mark?"
Harry shook his head. "But Snape has one."
As always, Rysk's grey eyes seemed to become even more edged when the Potions master was mentioned. "He came back to our side."
"But he was still a Death Eater. And Malfoy!"
"What about him? He's not a Death Eater." said Rysk icily.
"He's the son of a Death Eater."
"What does that prove?"
Harry looked around, searching for coherent words. "Well...well..."
"So he must grow up to be Voldemort's servant, too, because his father was. Just like you 'strut' like your father did."
Harry bristled, startled. "What?"
Rysk smiled thinly, her eyes glinting. "Everyone knows why Snape hated your dad, Potter, even you know. And everyone knows why Snape hates you so badly."
"Why, just because I look like him?"
Rysk clapped softly, mockingly, as a look of embarrassed realization crossed Harry's face. Harry bit his lip and turned away, suddenly fascinated by the many eccentricities on the shelf. After a few seconds something struck him. He spun around. "Did you say his father was...?!"
Rysk wasn't there. For a moment Harry stared at the air where she had been, wondering if he was starting to understand why she scorned the world so much.
