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"Don't let her up."
Rysk glared coldly at Orion as he tried to stop her from sitting up. "You're in worse shape than I am, Black." She glanced at her watch. "It's been an hour. Lie your ass down."
"I'm not the one with hypothermia." Sirius wearily wrapped the blankets tighter around Lupin, lying on the floor before the fire.
"You're exhausted," snapped Rysk, throwing off her covers and pushing past Orion. She paid no heed to his quiet protest.
"She's right." Sirius looked suddenly to the other side of the room, where Harry was staring at him closely. Unbeknownst to any in the room the boy had woken up and had been watching for quite some time. His godfather's eyes were bloodshot and his face was terribly pale.
"Not you, too."
In the end he wasn't given much choice: Rysk stood up and bodily dragged him away from Lupin. Black's resistance was pathetically weak as he was deposited beside Harry. "See?" said Rysk coolly, placing a hand on Sirius's arm, where Harry could see the muscle trembling. Rysk turned and pointed her wand at the pile of blankets she had abandoned. "Accio." They landed on top of Sirius. Rysk walked to Lupin and knelt beside him, sending Black a warning look that was also strangely reassuring.
"He'll start screaming," cautioned Orion, sitting down with his back against the wall and drawing his knees to his chest.
"I know," replied Rysk dryly. "That's what woke me up. Don't even, Black," she added when she saw Harry place a restraining hand on Sirius's shoulder when he made to get up. "I've had more damn sleep than any of you. Potter, get back to sleep."
Harry lay back down but did not close his eyes: he dared not return to the nightmares. Twice he had awoken in cold sweat, Pettigrew's desperate face burned into his mind.
Forgive me.
For a while he lay there with his cheek against the hard wooden planks, staring at Black's back until he heard him murmur, "She has hypothermia."
She'll live, thought Harry, too tired to say it out loud, pulling the covers closer about himself. If anyone had escaped the least scathed it was Rysk--she was the only one in the room not suffering from hypothermia and exhaustion. She seemed to have recovered fairly quickly using infraredus. Some impulse made Harry raise himself up on an elbow (Mundungus Fletcher's large but dry robes hanging off of him) to look at his teacher. Rysk was idly examining the frostbite on her fingers but no longer shivering or biting at blue lips. She moved closer to the fire and held her hands before it; the flames flickered in her grey eyes.
"Where's everyone else?" asked Harry quietly. Rysk looked sharply at him, then to Sirius. Harry put a hand on his shoulder. "He's asleep."
"Still up, Potter?"
"I can't sleep."
"You're exhausted and frozen," said Rysk with a hint of wryness. She tilted her head and stared at Harry piercingly until he looked away. "Potter?"
"Nightmares," mumbled Harry.
For a while all that could be heard was the crackling of the fireplace. Harry rubbed his fingers absently, grateful to feel them again. "You'll get over it." Rysk was staring into the flames as though transfixed by another place, another time. There was another moment of silence before she shifted to sit back with her legs outstretched. "They're all asleep, I think," she replied to his original question. She glanced at Orion and Harry saw that the Auror had nodded off against the wall. "But Fletcher's keeping an eye on them."
"The Death Eaters?" Rysk nodded. Harry went on. "We ought to get to Dumbledore."
Rysk's face hardened. "We will. First we have to make sure he won't lose it again." She gestured towards Lupin, who shifted uneasily. Harry felt a shiver run up his spine.
"He would have killed me," he said without thinking. Rysk looked at him for a moment.
"That wasn't him," she said finally, turning back to the fire. "Besides." A new edge had come into her voice as she dropped her head toward one shoulder to glance sidelong at Harry, so briefly and subtly he wondered if he hadn't imagined it. "I don't think he'll remember exactly what happened. I don't think he'll ever know he was going for you."
"I won't tell him." Harry's voice was filled with fierce conviction. "It'd only make things worse. I won't tell him, not ever."
"No, Potter." Rysk steepled her fingers, a shadow passing over her face. "You shouldn't."
****
"Them dirty, rotten dark wizards!" Hagrid blew his nose as he ranted against Harry's abductors furiously. "Filthy, stinkin' cowards!"
"There, there, Hagrid," said Hermione, patting his back awkwardly (even standing on her toes she barely reached his shoulder). "He'll be all right. It's Harry; he'll be all right." She smiled bravely, even though Hagrid's carrying on had only deepened her worry.
Hagrid sniffled again, wiping away a fat tear that rolled down his cheek. "Yer right," he said, trying to sound resolute. "'arry beat the Dark Lord once, an' he'll do it again!"
"Right," said Ron, shifting in his hard wooden chair, feet dangling off the ground. He swallowed a lump in his throat.
Ron and Hermione were in Hagrid's hut. It was eleven o'clock of December 29. Classes had been cancelled yesterday for a several days while the teachers focused on finding Harry Potter and exactly who had breached the school's defenses. As soon as they had heard they had bolted away across the grounds after breakfast to see their friend. At the very mention of Harry Hagrid had dissolved into angry tears--again (his face and eyes were red and puffy when he had answered the door).
"I still can't believe i' was only last night," said Hagrid. "But enough o' my weepin' an' wailin'. If you two're disgusted I don't blame ye."
"Of course we aren't, Hagrid," reassured Hermione, shooting her boyfriend a look. Ron shook his head earnestly.
"S'kind of you," said the half-giant, turning as the tea kettle whistled. He took it from over the fire and set it on the table, along with a huge mug for himself and two teacups which looked amazingly tiny in his gigantic hands.
"Tell us about the envoy to the giants," suggested Ron as Hagrid poured his tea, carefully aiming with one eye, the corner of his tongue sticking out of his mouth.
Hagrid obliged eagerly. The hand of friendship extended by Dumbledore had not been clasped without suspicion, but even the grudging acceptance was more than had been hoped for: leaders of nearly all the giant tribes had agreed to a tentative peace with Hogwarts and Beaubaxtons. Some had even promised to oppose Voldemort and his servants, but no solid alliance had yet been made. "But i' was somethin'," said Hagrid, "an' I can't say I blame 'em fer not takin' up with us then an' there, what with they way they been treated fer so long."
"You know," said Hermione after a moment, "there's another magical race I think we need to win over. Or one I wish we could, anyway."
"Who?" asked Ron.
"The house elves." Hagrid visibly braced himself for another wave of passionate S.P.E.W. sentiments, but Hermione said nothing of the sort.
"Why the hell do we care about the house elves, 'mione?"
"Think about it. You remember how Dobby warned Harry not to go to Hogwarts in our second year? Winky knew things that...well, you know what she knew. The house elf of a Death Eater may well know almost everything about the family. They're an important source of information."
Ron settled back into his chair, looking thoughtful. "You know, you're right." He glanced at Hagrid, who was nodding at Hermione with new respect and mulling over the notion. "But most house elves aren't Dobby. They wouldn't dare--they wouldn't want to."
"I know," said Hermione with a sigh. "It's too bad." She sipped her rather bitter tea and laid a hand on Fang's head when the great dog whined for attention.
There was a silence for a while in the hut, punctuated only by the sounds of drinking and the occasional tap of a mug or teacup against the wooden table. At length Ron caught Hermione's eye and gestured with a nod of his head when Hagrid wasn't looking. Hermione cleared her throat. "Where do you think Professor Harrison's gone off to?" she asked.
Hagrid started, nearly dropping his mug, and looked up at them warily. "Gone off to?" he blustered. "Nonsense! Where'd you hear that?"
"Around," replied Ron, waving vaguely.
"You must have heard wrong," said Hagrid, becoming gruff and close-mouthed. "More tea?"
"Must have heard her name wrong too, then." Ron's voice was light. "I swear I heard it was 'Harrison', but maybe it's 'Rysk'. What about you, 'mione?" He glanced at his girlfriend. Hermione nodded.
Hagrid sputtered for a moment, at a loss. "Well, well...well now, don't you go tossin' that around," he said, making his voice stern, frowning through his tangled mess of a beard and glaring at them. "Professor Harrison's business is her own an' you two've no right to go stickin' yer noses into i'."
"But she's so strange," insisted Hermione.
"Maybe she is, but a fine good teacher. Best duellist I've ever seen, 'cept 'praps fer Remus Lupin, an' then I couldn't say who'd come out on top. You mind her now, hear?"
"So how did she learn all this duelling stuff?" said Ron, leaning forward. "Just in, what, three years of courses?"
At this Hagrid became truly flustered, turning around and making a great noise clattering and cleaning the mismatched teacups. "Merlin's beard if I know," he said roughly over the sound of running water. "Learned quick is all I know. Never set foot in 'ogwarts 'til she was old enough to be sixth year an' graduated wi' just two years under 'er belt." He turned around, wiping his hands dry on his trousers. "No one rightly knows where she came from, so you two 'ad better save yerselves the trouble."
"Really," said Hermione thoughtfully. Hagrid looked absolutely furious with himself.
****
"Harry!"
Ron and Hermione flung themselves upon him, nearly upsetting the entire bed. All three laughed as they embraced. Harry thought he would burst with joy even though he could barely breathe and Hermione's tears were soaking his shoulder. Madam Pomfrey gave up on trying to tug them off, continuing to insist in her most frightening voice that they "stop that this instant!". At last they drew back. Pomfrey caught Ron's arm in a firm grip and tried to drag him out the door, nearly beside herself.
"No!" protested Harry, holding out a hand, still laughing. "No, Madam Pomfrey, it's all right. I'm all right. Let them stay, please."
"'twon't happen again, ma'am, I promise," said Ron, trying his best to look charigned and failing miserably.
The nurse glared at the three of them before sniffing and relenting with the parting threat of, "If you upset him, I'll have your hides!"
"Are you all right?" exclaimed Hermione, whirling around after she had made certain Pomfrey had disappeared into her office.
"Frostbite's gone," said Harry, holding up his hands and expending some effort to maintain his cheerful expression.
"Frostbite! Bloody hell, Harry." Ron summoned two chairs haphazardly from across the ward. "Tell us everything!"
A shadow passed swiftly over Harry's face now. Hermione caught it and frowned, narrowing her eyes slightly, but wisely held her peace for which Harry was relieved. He hesitated, wondering where to begin, and what to omit. "I went up to wrap your presents after sneaking down to the kitchens and dropping off Dobby's present."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Clothing?"
"A tie."
"So that's what took so long," muttered Ron.
"Right," said Harry, and this time the lie was not too quick but timed exactly right. "I stayed up in the common room a bit longer 'cause I couldn't get the bloody wrapping paper right."
"No, you couldn't," said Hermione was a faint smile. "Dancing penguins."
Harry grinned, but it felt hollow when he saw the uncomfortable look on Ron's face. His friend was staring at the ground, both nervous and sullen. He continued to watch Ron was he went on. "I started to go back. On the way down the staircase--the one between the second and third floor, I think--my scar started to hurt. I turned around and Ranone was standing there." Harry lowered his voice. "He's a Death Eater."
"Ranone?" cried Hermione. Ron fidgeted; for once, Hermione didn't seem to notice. Or did she? Harry saw her eyes flick to the side. "But how did he get in? Dumbledore has all kinds of charms around the school--not charms! Spells! A Death Eater would have never--"
"I don't know how he did it," said Harry quietly, and added dryly, "I didn't really think about it. He knocked me out."
Ron's shoulders relaxed visibly. He remained silent as Harry recounted the rest in full, or what they believed was the rest in full: Harry made sure to leave the members of the Order out, and pretending to be almost confused as they were about what had transpired in the mountains that night. He did this by making himself out to have been unconscious throughout much more of the ordeal than was true.
He said nothing of Peter Pettigrew. It would be a long, long time before Harry could discuss that with anyone, even his two closest friends.
There were several awkward and stunned silences as he told of Lupin's imprisonment and his own torture. Hermione was fighting tears by the time he was finished.
"I can't believe it," she breathed. "Poor Lupin. Oh, poor Lupin."
"So that's where Rysk went," said Ron quietly. Hermione glanced quickly at him. "She flew? To the bloody Alps of France?" Harry nodded. "Fucking crazy. She should be dead."
"You knew she was gone?" demanded Harry. Hermione nodded earnestly.
"The night you disappeared, Rysk did, too, but I think we were the only ones who knew it. I was leading everyone back to the common room with Flitwick and Snape came stumbling up from the dungeons right when Dumbledore came down the steps--he was practically running. They almost ran into each other and Snape kept saying, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she's gone.' We figured it out from there."
Harry was silent for a while. "He probably tried to stop her from going," he said slowly. For a moment he was tempted to tell his friends about Snape's use of Soulsbane. Hermione most likely knew what it was and together they could blackmail the Potions master into awarding points to Gryffindor, most likely. But the memory of his teacher's hollow, despairing eyes looking at him from inside the dungeon cell stopped him. "I still want to know how she knew where to find us."
"I don't," said Hermione with a shudder. Harry looked quizzically at Ron.
"Old Snape was shaking all over." Ron put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Looked like he was going buggy. Absolutely bloody buggy. He's been teaching classes like a zombie, except for one time when Neville pissed him off. I thought he was going to kill him, if Malfoy didn't do it first, and then us, I swear."
"What?"
Hermione leaned forward. "He provoked Malfoy about his father."
"No! Neville?" Harry blinked. "Wait. His father?"
"You were right, Harry." Hermione's voice was grim. "He's dead. He was one of the Death Eaters killed."
"And good riddance."
"Ron!" Hermione glared reproachfully.
"Please, it's Malfoy," snorted Ron, leaning back in the chair and crossing one ankle over his knee. "The less of his kind, the better."
"So Rysk knew," breathed Harry, so quietly that neither of the others heard. He looked up suddenly, startled by a thought. "What day is it?"
"January 2nd," replied Hermione gently. "You've been asleep for three days."
Harry passed a hand over his face, feeling a bit tired, almost old. When he opened his eyes his friends were looking at him strangely. He smiled reassuringly. "I guess I've missed out on a lot, too." He sat up straighter. "Tell me everything."
Hermione and Ron had not been idle. Although answers and information regarding Harry's abduction and the rise of the Dark Lord were scarce, they had found a most reliable if surprising source of what there was: Neville Longbottom, whose Auror parents had recovered and were quickly getting in touch with others of their kind. "They belonged to some group of Aurors, but Neville wouldn't say anything else."
The Order, thought Harry, and wondered how many more might be in St. Mungo's, their minds broken from the horrible, agonizing Crutacious curse. He shuddered.
It was Neville who had first told them (with glee) that Lucius Malfoy had indeed been one of the Death Eaters killed in Ireland. A Mr. Tantra of the Ministry of Magic had disappeared--"on holiday" was the official story.
"Tantra?" said Harry sharply as the barb of a half remembered dream stung the back of his mind. His brows knitted.
"Yes, Tantra," replied Hermione. "Harry, are you all right?"
"Fine." He quickly smoothed his expression. "Name sounded familiar, that's all."
They went on to tell him of their visit to Hagrid. "He wouldn't tell us a thing about where she'd gone off to--but I don't think he really knew," finished Ron as Harry laid back against the pillows to think. "At least the giants agreed to something." Harry nodded slowly. "But what do you make of Rysk?"
"I don't know. But I think...I think she's on our side for sure." He glanced at at them from the corner of his eye. "She fought for us. Nearly slit Ranone's throat, too."
"Oh, really? Somehow I think I'd like it better if she were on their side," said Ron sourly.
"I don't know," he said again. He sat up and looked around the otherwise empty ward, as if expecting to find his teacher standing by a bed. "Where is she, anyway?"
"We don't know." Hermione looked frustrated. "Dumbledore never said a word about Moony or Padfoot or anything, just that you'd been found. I really don't think any of the students except us knows she left Hogwarts." She sighed and stretched. "They cancelled classes for a while, you know."
"Yeah, and actually started them up again on New Year's Eve--can you
believe it?" Ron sounded indignant. "Everyone's been acting edgy, except
Rysk. She's been acting too normal."
