CHAPTER TWELVE: Choices

With only three weeks left until the Christmas Holidays, potions classes resumed. The younger students enjoyed Roxanne's lessons, mostly because the teacher wasn't Severus Snape. The Slytherin students, however, tested her patience continually. They made her rather enjoy her new power to deduct points from houses. But as the classes grew older, Roxanne's challenges increased exponentially. She had no trouble with third year classes, and fourth year classes, though she'd needed to do a little more preparation, went more smoothly than she'd expected. The sixth years were old enough to know they were well beyond her, and tried to get away with doing as little as possible-until Roxanne began taking points. Slytherin's fifth years lost 50 points on her first day teaching.

The fifth and seventh years were another matter entirely. They needed preparing for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.S., and were anxious to have a competent teacher with the knowledge they'd need to pass. Roxanne fumbled clumsily through the fifth year class. The students left grumbling and throwing disgusted looks at her. She expected them to complain to their heads of houses. She was sure she'd be hearing from Professor McGonagall any time now.

The seventh years were more direct. Their grumbling began the moment they entered the classroom. One bold Ravenclaw stood as class began.

"What makes you think you can teach us anything?" he challenged.

Fred Weasley sprang from his chair and lunged toward the boy.

"NO!" shouted Roxanne. "Fred! It's all right. It's a fair question." She sat atop a high stool at the front of the classroom and rubbed her chin thoughtfully for a minute, then shrugged. "I don't have any expectation of being able to teach you anything," she said frankly to a renewed round of grumbling. "All I know is that Professor Dumbledore asked me to do it. I may not have learned as much magic as you, but I have learned that when Albus Dumbledore asks you to do something, you do it because you figure he knows best. I'm not here to teach you. I'm here to learn, and if I can help you learn along with me, then I guess we both benefit." She stood and walked around the desks, striding slowly down one long row until she was standing directly in front of the boy. "Your name is Cargill?"

The boy nodded.

"Mr. Cargill, tell me," she said staring him straight in the eye. "If you were left to study what you needed on your own, how much would you really get done?"

A few students in the class chuckled knowingly to themselves. Mr. Cargill looked at his desktop guiltily. "Not much, I suppose."

"Then consider me your taskmaster and this class your study hall. Well then," she said loudly, turning to the rest of the class, "what are you supposed to be studying?"

**********

When Lupin came for her, Roxanne had just successfully transformed a small round stone into a fish that lay flopping and gasping on the floor. Hermione clapped excitedly. After four tutoring sessions something had finally sunk in and Roxanne had just performed her first bona fide transfiguration.

"Well, OK," she said scratching her head, "but what do I do with the fish?"

"You-you-well that's not the point. You can change something you don't need into something you do!" Hermione insisted as Lupin came in.

"Remus! Look! I made a fish," Roxanne said proudly.

Lupin chuckled. "Congratulations. Now can you change it back?"

"Change it back?" Roxanne laughed. "I'll try." The transfiguration half- worked. The fish became stone again, but still looked like the fish. Roxanne shrugged. Lupin laughed harder. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"That's enough for today," Lupin said, controlling his humor. "Dumbledore wants to see you Roxanne."

She was surprised at this, but grateful to be free from Hermione. She wasn't as intimidating as Professor McGonagall for sure, but she was an equal taskmaster.

Roxanne followed Remus silently through the castle. His suddenly grave demeanor kept her from asking him what Dumbledore wanted with her. He led her into the staffroom and locked the door behind them. The Headmaster was seated behind a large round table with a group of witches and wizards-some Roxanne did not know-seated in chairs throughout the room. Sirius and Hagrid were there, along with Professors Moody, Flitwick, and McGonagall, and Arthur, Molly, Bill, and Charlie Weasley. The faces in the room were grave, except for a warm smile of greeting from the Weasleys. Remus pointed her to an empty chair and sat beside her.

"Welcome Miss Stewart," began Dumbledore. "I have asked you to join in this council so that you can more fully understand what we face." Roxanne nodded slowly and glanced around the room at the others.

The Headmaster introduced her to those she didn't know-two former teachers, Arabella Figg, a frail-looking old witch with a tall green hat, and Mundungus Fletcher, an elderly wizard with large bushy eyebrows and a mutton chop beard; and finally, an American-Warren Talbot. He was middle- aged, gray at the temples of his short-cropped hair. He wore no robes-only black twill slacks and western boots, a neatly pressed shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and a colorful, yet tasteful, silk tie. He spoke with a heavy Texas accent. "Miss Stewart. You are welcome to join us at Hawthorne Academy, anytime you feel you want to come home."

She nodded politely

"Mr. Talbot will be taking a report concerning this meeting to the American Magic Council. I have asked for their help. Perhaps you can assist me in persuading Mr. Talbot of the urgent situation we face," said Dumbledore with a gentle nod.

Roxanne understood. He wanted her to tell her story, show him the mark on her back, the scars on her wrists. She nodded back resolutely.

Dumbledore smiled at her, then began to speak. He told, mainly for Mr. Talbot's benefit, of the rise and resurrection of Lord Voldemort-of his attempts, and final success, to restore himself to his body; of the importance of the boy who lived, the necessity of protecting him and training him for his inevitable final confrontation with Voldemort (Roxanne listened intently. This was the first time she'd heard this side of Harry's story-the first time she'd come to know that Harry Potter was much more than a boy with a tragic past.); of the gathering and increasing boldness of the Death Eaters; of the chaos at the Ministry of Magic and the smattering of success in enlisting the support of Europe's magical communities. Although many vowed neutrality, others willingly chose sides. Most refused to commit to anything. The danger remained that they would eventually choose, out of willingness or fear, to support Voldemort.

"So, you see, Miss Stewart," Dumbledore continued, "difficult times divide us into three kinds-those who choose good, those who choose evil, and those who choose to sit on the fence leaving others to fight the battle for them on the ground. The danger lies in the fence. It will be shaken, and those who balance on top of it will fall-but to which side?"

"We've chosen to fight for good," said Sirius, gesturing towards the others and staring intently at her.

"And you want me to make my choice," she finished for him, looking from Black, to Dumbledore, to Lupin.

Remus nodded, his expression grave.

"Now?"

"Yes, now," Sirius said firmly.

Dumbledore spoke. "I will not deny that time is running short-very short. But," he said, glancing at Sirius, "one must not make such a decision hastily."

"Why me?" she asked, incredulous. She trusted Dumbledore, but he was asking her to stretch that trust farther than she'd ever imagined. She knew enough about the Dark Arts now to understand she couldn't possibly be of much use.

"I am not one who believes in chance, Miss Stewart," began Dumbledore. "It was not by chance that you came to us now, of all the years you could have. I believe you have a purpose here. I am giving you every opportunity to find out what that purpose is. And, I suspect, prove to be of use in our fight against Voldemort."

Roxanne looked at each face-all grim and determined. She thought quickly through all she'd just heard, the gears clicking away in her head, putting everything together into blocks of thought as she sorted it through. She stood suddenly. "There's just one thing-I'll be right back." And she strode out of the room. At a nod from Dumbledore, Remus followed after her.

They ran through the castle searching. No, not in the library, or the Great Hall. He wouldn't be at Hagrid's. The Quidditch field? No, it was long past nightfall outside. Finally they ran into Neville Longbottom coming out of a bathroom.

"Neville! Do you know where Harry is?" asked Roxanne.

"Harry? I think he's in Gryffindor tower, but-"

"Could you check for me? Ask him to come out-alone. I need to ask him a question," Roxanne said, grasping Neville's shoulders tightly.

Neville, taken aback by her urgency, but reassured by Lupin's steady, pleasant smile, stammered, "S-sure."

"Thanks Neville," she said clapping him on the back and giving him a gentle shove towards the dormitories.

When Harry finally emerged (he'd been undressed for bed and had difficulty finding his left slipper) he found Lupin pacing back and forth across the corridor and Roxanne leaning against the wall watching for him. Harry looked curiously at Lupin who shrugged and tilted his head toward Roxanne. The ominous look on her face kept him silent.

She glanced at Lupin (who nodded encouragingly), drew a deep breath and stood, facing Harry squarely before plunging ahead.

"A lot of good people are fully prepared to put their lives at risk because they believe in you, Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Roxanne stopped him with a brisk shake of her head. "I just want to know-are you worth it?"

Harry stood, blinking numbly at her. He glanced at Remus who shrugged slowly, not wanting to interfere with whatever it was Roxanne needed to do to help her make her choice.

"I-I don't know," Harry whispered.

Roxanne began pacing, her eyes wandering all around, her hands twitching. Harry and Lupin watched her silently, waiting. Finally she stopped and looked at Harry again, nodding slowly.

"I can accept that," she said quietly. "I don't know if I'm worthy to defend you-but I'm willing to try." She held her hand out to him. Harry took it hesitantly. She gripped his hand firmly, surprising him with the strength of it.

"Good night, Mr. Potter," she said bowing slightly to him before hurrying off, Lupin jogging after.

**********

The staffroom was silent when Lupin and Roxanne entered again, all eyes upon them, except Sirius who stood looking out the window.

Roxanne apologized for making them wait. "I had to ask Harry something."

Sirius spun around, glaring at her. "Harry? What has he got to do-"

"He has everything to do with this," she replied coldly. She'd begun to be bothered by Black's jeering. "Or am I wrong in believing that he is the cause that you are willing to die for?"

"He is part of it certainly, but-" Sirius began.

"Without Harry there is no hope," Roxanne stated flatly.

Mr. Talbot interrupted, drawling slowly. "Does this boy-do we need to take him somewhere-for his protection?"

"Harry has a purpose in all this-as do we all," said Dumbledore slowly. "Exactly what that purpose is remains to be seen. But in order for him to do what he was meant to do, he must be helped to it, not protected from it. The same is true of us all." He looked at each face in the room, resting last on Roxanne.

"Miss Stewart is wrong about hope, however," Dumbledore said, his eyes not moving from hers. "As long as one remains who is loyal to the cause of right, there shall always be hope."

Roxanne felt a chill run through her body. Dumbledore had a way of doing that-of piercing her to the core with some idea he believed to be important for her to know, though she seldom knew exactly why.

"Have you decided then, Roxanne?" he continued.

Her resolve of a few moments ago had vanished. She was filled with doubts- about her abilities mainly. She couldn't understand how a novice witch, with little more skill than children half her age could be of any use, except in getting herself killed.

"Apparently not," spoke Sirius bitterly, jumping on her moment of hesitation.

"I-I just don't see how I can be any help," she said quietly, looking away from Dumbledore's searching gaze.

"You see?" spat Sirius. "She doubts herself. How can we be sure she won't fail us, or betray us, at the moment we need her most?"

"Self doubt is a trait she shares with Harry," Dumbledore reminded him.

"But Harry's doubts can be-" began Sirius, but he was interrupted by Lupin.

"Doubt is irrelevant! Both Roxanne and Harry have proven themselves worthy of the Lion's crest in times of grave danger." Lupin spoke forcefully, more so than Roxanne had ever heard before. He was facing his old friend, his gray eyes flashing, his jaw clenched. "Dumbledore wants her here. I trust Dumbledore."

At these words Black's stubborn stance relaxed, and he tore his gaze away from Lupin's.

"Remus is right," said Arthur Weasley, breaking the sudden silence. "To trust Dumbledore, I mean. If he wants Miss Stewart here, then the only thing to do is to prepare her, and Harry."

"We must prepare them all-and quickly," said Dumbledore.

"Do you mean the students, Albus?" asked Professor McGonagall, incredulous.

"I do, Minerva."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "I want my children to be ready to defend themselves. There is no guarantee I will be here to do it for them. I do not want them to be helpless."

Roxanne nodded knowingly at Mrs. Weasley's last statement.

"I only hope the rest of the parents will feel as you do, Molly," said Dumbledore heavily. His gaze turned to Roxanne again. "Miss Stewart?"

Lupin squeezed her hand. She looked at Sirius, who had returned to staring out the window, then at Remus who nodded once, then to Dumbledore.

"I'm in."

**********

For the next half-day owls, most carrying letters to parents informing them of impending changes to the Hogwarts curriculum, streamed from the school owlery. The first went to the Minister of Magic, informing him of Dumbledore's intent to officially break all ties with the Ministry unless Fudge declared opposition to the Dark Lord. Dumbledore watched the owl until it disappeared into the clouds. Fudge's response, though not crucial, could go a long way toward relieving, or intensifying, much of his worry.

If, as Dumbledore suspected, Fudge lacked the fortitude to do what he should, the Ministry stood in danger of falling under Voldemort's control. And Dumbledore could not risk the danger that would represent for Hogwarts, to Harry, to the magical community. But the break from the Ministry held other risks he felt must be taken--the danger that the fence-sitters would unite against his aggressive stance, the danger that Hogwarts would have to be emptied of all those students whose families did not actively support him, that Hogwarts would have to become a refuge for those who did.

But Dumbledore was about to take a step in that direction. He was about to do something he hoped he would never have to do. He was about to ask a student to leave.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," he called gravely.

It was Draco Malfoy. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" he drawled politely.

"Come in Draco. Please be seated."

The boy did as he was told. Dumbledore looked at him. He had grown much taller, and meaner, since first coming to Hogwarts as a nasty-tempered first-year. It was true he had caused a great deal of trouble for many students. But they, especially Harry, had become stronger for it. True to form, Dumbledore refused to give up hope that this boy could be taught to overcome the faults of his father. But now, the peril the school, and Draco, now faced, had overtaken the benefits of having him there. The students had divided themselves into the three kinds of people Dumbledore knew they would. Some had begun withdrawing from any confrontations, others antagonizing one another, luring each other into more and more dangerous situations. If there was to be a war at Hogwarts it would not be now, not under these circumstances, not between the young wizards and witches he was duty-bound to protect. Removing Malfoy would relieve much of the tension.

"I've been hearing rumors about you, Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster began.

"They're not true," Draco exclaimed bitterly.

"Whether true or not is irrelevant. What is important is that your fellow students believe they are true."

"But if you told them they weren't, they'd believe you," Draco muttered coolly.

"And IF I believe the rumors, I will not lie to the other students," Dumbledore stated firmly. "Under the circumstances, Mr. Malfoy, I think it best if you left Hogwarts-for a time-until things settle down a bit."

"Leave? You can't make me-unless you're going to expel me!"

"I will not expel you, unless you give me reason to. However, I can no longer guarantee your safety here. The Gryffindors are out for blood-your blood," said Dumbledore, his calm demeanor growing in direct opposition to Draco's increasing animosity.

"I knew it!" spat Draco. "You're setting Gryffindor up to win the house cup! You get rid of me, Slytherin has to forfeit our Quidditch matches-"

"You're wrong. Quidditch games have been suspended for the remainder of the year. It is likely that other players from the other teams will be leaving Hogwarts as well."

"My father-"

"I have already informed your father of my intentions. He has failed to respond to my letters. Perhaps if you wrote him yourself-"

"He wants me to stay here," said Draco slowly, through clenched teeth.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that, Mr. Malfoy. Hagrid and Mr. Lupin will escort you to Hogsmeade in the morning. Your mother has agreed to meet you there."

**********

By dinner word had leaked throughout the castle that Draco Malfoy was leaving.

"This is our last chance to get the bloody little bastard," hissed Fred to the Gryffindors gathered in the Great Hall.

"Fred!" exclaimed Hermione, as shocked by the malice in his voice as the strong language. Everyone else muttered agreement, including Neville, who had been the victim of more of Draco's spiteful jinxes than all the others combined.

"He'll spend the rest of night hiding out in the Slytherin dormitory, no doubt," said Lee Jordan with disappointment. "The coward."

Heads close together, dinner plates cleaned and pushed aside, a large group sat late at the table, planning their revenge on Draco for all he'd done to deserve it-but mostly for the part they knew he had played in the ruthless Halloween night attack on a fellow Gryffindor.

Suddenly someone noticed Remus Lupin standing behind them, arms folded, listening. Everyone fell silent.

"Harry, can I speak with you?" he said, motioning for Harry to follow.

Harry's face went very red. He didn't expect Remus to be thrilled at what he'd been plotting with the others. He was right.

"Harry, Draco will be leaving here under armed guard. I would hate to be hit by a misdirected jinx. I would hate to have to send one your way. Understand?" he said firmly.

Harry nodded.

"If it is meant to be, the opportunity will arise again, under more favorable-and fairer-circumstances."

"More favorable for Malfoy, you mean?" Harry retorted.

"Perhaps. But you are a Gryffindor. If you leave honor behind to seek revenge, you are no greater than he is.

Harry nodded again and turned to rejoin his fellow conspirators.

In the morning, Hagrid and Remus were joined by Professors McGonagall and Moody. All the Gryffindors could do was stand at the sides of the entry hall, glaring and wishing.