Series: Minor Arcana. Sequel to "Declaro" (rating R). You really need to read that first. Find it through the author link @ ff.net or skyehawke.com.
Rating: This section – PG13
Pairings: This section – elements of HP/DM, SS/HP, SS/DM, DM/RL, RW/HG.
Notes: Part B of the final chapter. One more (long) section coming (I may even split it so as not to take too long). There may be some changes to the final edit.
Spoilers: Various up to the end of Book IV. No OotP whatsoever.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and various corporate tentacles.
Archiving: Only where I've agreed.
Feedback/Reviews: Please, it's just plain encouraging. I'm especially grateful to people who give me some direction as to what works and what doesn't.
The Gryffindors all laughed as Harry, Ron and Hermione's reminder-balls circled one another and finally sorted themselves out only to all head the same way.
"Three Gryffindors!" Seamus exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulder and basking in the fete atmosphere. "The house of champions."
"Four Ravenclaws," Hermione said.
"Really?"
"Cho, Lisa, Terry and Morag," she said, counting them off on her fingers.
"Mandy would be furious."
"The stance thing."
"The stance is bloody stupid if you ask me."
Laughing anyway they followed the three balls back to the hall, where a nervous Justin almost jumped on Hermione in his eagerness to have someone to walk out onto into the centre with. He grasped her hand tightly, and if Ron looked surprised he didn't say anything. On the edge of the crowd they all hesitated, but the balls spun and hummed as if impatient and eventually they moved out onto the polished wooden floor. The Ravenclaws were on the other side, Draco and Pansy to their right, not talking to each other, and the half a dozen strangers looked even more nervous without the same kind of group support.
The organiser for this round was Percy Weasley, but if you missed the obvious family resemblance there was no sign his brother was one of the duellers. He called the pairs in an even crisp voice and waited for the lines and the stance to be accurate and completely still before giving the signal – a flash of white light at all four corners and a clear bell tone.
* * *
LAVENDER Well that was just bizarre. Millicent gives me one of those looks and I'll catch her up later, but I have so got to hear what happens when Hermione has less of an audience. What a come down for her, not that I don't like Hermione, I really do. Oh bother, there are just too many people. There she is, being comforted by Lisa Turpin, and ooh I really can't stand Lisa Turpin. All the Ravenclaws are a bit like that, but Lisa acts like you don't have the right to breathe unless you're getting good marks. She's all stiff upper lip of course, and Lisa's all understanding because she lost too, but Lisa never had a chance against Draco Malfoy. Hermione was beaten by Pansy Parkinson! At Defence! And really, Draco maybe rather evil, but he just gets sadder and sadder all the time, and I think if Millicent's right and he and Professor Lupin have found solace in one another's arms, well I think why not. Thrown out of his home, pretty much, because of being that way inclined, and Remus being spurned all his life as a monster too. . . And Harry and Ron run up with pumpkin juice for her, and you'd think they'd all lost even though the boys won. Harry just knocked that Irish boy half way across the room. And I think he was showing off to Draco. I saw him look. I bet we're going to have a real Love Triangle there. Remus is actually quite handsome, for an older man, when he's not looking all sickly. Look at that almost pout, sometimes I think Hermione's just a bit of an egotist. Of course Ron's being all super cautious because there's always a chance that it's his fault. Why you'd want your girlfriend to be beaten by Pansy I've no idea, but Ron is a bit strange lately. Yes, she's definitely mad at him; I can tell when she gets that crease in her forehead – which is not at all attractive. Oh! The ball for the Divination grading! Where on earth is Parvarti? I'm never going to be able to find my calm and quiet centre now, not for a crystal ball, and maybe not even cards. I'm always good with tea leaves, but people so look down on leaves. Sybil said I would have a hard journey this weekend.* * *
Severus stalked through the halls and rooms, accumulating faces, names, voices, snatches of conversation. The most alarming thing about it all was perhaps not what Lucius, or Voldemort, might want with it, but how unpredictable it all was. Take Vermeel's horror at that fool Hawkes's impassioned praise for the Revival. Nothing is more appalling to a toadying administrator than actual fervour amongst the followers.
He would have anticipated some sign of Lucius given the Revival's centrality, but he was no doubt planning a grand entrance. Severus thought, however, that Lucius may have underestimated Draco's interest in the kind of attention Lupin offered. Being on Draco's side wasn't an easy aim, but Lupin could probably meet all the boy's suspicion with comfortable reassurance. Bitterness was pointless, he wouldn't bother pretending he wasn't jealous. He'd very nearly sent Draco a congratulatory note for having driven him from the staff and student dinner in anger. It could be covered as disgust, the boy was still a member of his house, a student, various other poses could be arranged, but the boy had scored points against him there. He would like to explain to Draco that he had provided the perfect example of why this infatuation would never come to anything but he didn't care to expose how much it had grated.
At the door to a large room in which the grading of qualified competitors in Transfiguration was taking place, Severus paused and pretended to watch.
And Harry had been hurt by his reaction, which was careless at best. Yes, it bothered him that the boy had been hurt. Despite rumours to the contrary, he was capable of at least passing attachment to a boy who was offering himself up that way to be guided, admired, and enjoyed, even without any of the other incentives. All of which required he show more caution in order to avoid misunderstandings.
Inside the room Granger successfully transfigured her wooden chest into a tree. The very significant difference in size would gain her extra points, and she was probably anxious to compensate for that strange performance in the duels. Pansy Parkinson was an easy girl to underestimate, but she wasn't in Granger's league. Parkinson stood to one side of the door, watching Granger intently, with a half smile. It would bear watching. Severus had been waiting for a way to use Ms Bulstrode's talents, and she would be only too pleased to put that old resentment to use.
"Professor Snape."
"Mr Potter," Severus said, turning. Neville Longbottom and the Patil girls were with Harry – concerned, puzzled, interested. He noticed the reminder-ball spinning to one side. "You're competing in Transfiguration?"
"No." The ball began to hum and spin faster, and the Ravenclaw Patil slipped into the room, trailing the ball, her sister, and Longbottom too. "The qualifying was a colour change charm and I just messed it up," Harry said. "I wasn't concentrating I suppose."
"You don't seem particularly devastated."
"It's not that important," Harry said, moving across the sunny hall to the windows. Severus went with him. "And I'm still trying out for Potions and Charms."
"And you're still in the duel." The boy blushed, as if he hadn't. . . "I was watching."
"I didn't see you."
"I'm not likely to miss an opportunity to harangue you about a poor performance."
Harry looked up at him, half sitting on the ledge of the window, and almost but not quite smiled. "What are you waiting for then?"
"Your performance seemed to be entirely adequate," Severus said. "Or are you just asking me to show an interest?"
Harry shrugged, but with far less self-consciousness than Severus might have anticipated. He was tempted to say he shouldn't be mistaken for Remus Lupin, but that wasn't a conversation he wanted to have today.
He moved to one side of the window, looking out over the boy's shoulder at the illusion of a bright summer's day. Ostentatious and unnecessary he'd thought, but a pleasant effect right now with the sun framing Harry in the window. "Very well. I would recommend you enter the Combined Magics section; it's more likely to suit your skills."
"I didn't know you thought I had any skills."
"They're not as refined as they might be."
Harry smiled as competitors and officials began to file out of the room, and a peal of bells heralded the appearance of reminder-balls for the next round. Harry's popped into view, spinning in a dim purple light and humming just above head height.
"I'd better go," he said, hopping up to follow it.
"Wait, Mr Potter. I'll walk with you."
"Okay," Harry said with slow surprise, glancing around at the passing people, many of whom looked their way, some of the Hogwarts students blatantly staring.
"I'm not going to hold your hand or anything, Potter. I think they can cope with the sight of us walking together."
Harry smiled again. Severus could see it out of the corner of his eye although the boy didn't look his way. The audience seemed to have swelled a little and gathered. He nodded an acknowledgement of Fudge and Hawkes as they passed, and the younger wizard's eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before returning it. At the door, Severus hesitated. He had intended to continue his observations of the event before this evening's meeting of the Order. Hawkes glanced back at him, at the boy. Nevertheless, he was interested in what the Ministry imagined constituted a trial of skill in Potions these days.
* * *
Sirius was the last to arrive. He shook Remus's hand, greeted everyone else, even sparing a curt nod for Severus, and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder. Arthur and Remus inquired about Europe and Sirius joked about the French. As the tea things were gracefully arranged under Dumbledore's direction, Sirius said, "And did you win, Harry? I can tell you did."
"Well, I qualified for tomorrow in the duel, and in Charms and Potions," Harry replied, "although Severus says he has no idea how I managed to recognise Dreamless Sleep because I've never. . ." Harry stopped at the vicious glare Sirius was suddenly directing over his shoulder and actually turned to see what was wrong before he realised what he had said.
"This arrangement might be convenient, Snape," Sirius said, gently pushing Harry to one side as he leaned closer to Severus's chair, "but if you get too familiar with my godson you'll regret it."
"Fortunately," Severus said, with that especially sharp especially mocking voice Harry was beginning to think he saved especially for Sirius, "nothing about my arrangements with Harry," he emphasised the given name pointedly, "involves you at all."
Professor McGonagall interrupted sharply – "This is not why we're here, gentlemen" – although she may as well have said "boys."
"Indeed," the Headmaster said, very distinctly, taking up his tea. "Perhaps Arthur should begin."
In the pause, Harry tried unsuccessfully not to look at Severus, who sat a little more stiffly than usual in his chair, and at Sirius, who was still glaring his way. Arthur began hesitantly, outlining changes in the Ministry as it channelled resources to the preservation or revival of wizarding culture – artefacts and locations, old practices and beliefs. He was most worried about its popularity amongst Ministry staff.
"I was even told the reduction of our Department was to be expected because relations with Muggles were hardly part of wizarding tradition, which is what interests everyone these days. A sentiment, I might add, to which no one objected, even though any attention to ancient history actually shows wizards and Muggles living much more closely together than now. Learning from each other," he said, with a clear appeal to the Headmaster.
"I am sorry, Arthur," Dumbledore said, "this will be a temporary setback, I'm sure. We will uncover the interests at work in the Rite, and things will return to a more sensible balance."
"With respect, Headmaster," Severus said. "Even if we can prove that Voldemort's interests permeate the revival itself, much of this fascination doesn't come from the Death Eaters themselves as you must have noticed. It will be very difficult to displace."
Professor McGonagall agreed that while there was no sympathy for Voldemort in the Rath Cruacha, the Irish wizards too seemed to view the revival as generally positive. Sirius said that in Europe, while some of the older schools were clearly participating, the revival's appeal was far less, and it was often seen as amusing, or at least unnecessary.
"Of course it's unnecessary," Arthur said, turning his new fountain pen in his hand, "but what wizards and witches really need is apparently not popular these days."
The tone of the meeting was often set by Arthur's equanimity as much as by Dumbledore and Remus, and his depression rather increased the tension.
"The dispersal of the Rite makes it hard to counteract but also hard to use," Severus finally said. "Despite the apparent opportunity, I doubt the trial will be the site of any major confrontation."
"But we don't know that," Remus said.
"And yet we allow the children to be exposed there," Professor McGonagall added, "a long way from the wards of Hogwarts." Everyone felt the unspoken concern about Harry, including Harry.
"Draco," he said and, when everyone looked at him, "We need to know more; a different perspective on what they want from the Rite. Lucius Malfoy especially."
"So we use his son?" Sirius said.
"We invite Draco to join the Order," there was a sudden anxious shifting. "Not all the way at first, but he already knows something about it and he'd help if we asked, wouldn't he, Remus? Isn't it worth a try?"
"What exactly does he know?" Sirius said, darting another angry glance at Severus.
"No," Remus said, at the same time.
"Why no?" Harry returned. "I know he wants to be trusted by us." Everyone hesitated to respond or had nothing to say. "And why would you be involved with him if you didn't think he meant that? If you thought he was still on Malfoy's side?"
"Involved?" Sirius said, turning to look at Remus along with everyone else except, Harry noted, Dumbledore and Severus.
"I really don't think. . ." McGonagall began.
"Really, Lupin, he's Ron's age – I must. . ." Arthur was saying.
"It's unimportant," Severus said loudly, cutting them all off. "It's Order business, isn't it? Give the boy a reason to betray his father, but nothing so secure as to provide a real, an independent, alternative. He might be dangerous then. So we won't ask him, will we Lupin?"
"Remus would never do anything like that," Harry said indignantly.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," Severus continued. "He's a Malfoy, and a Slytherin, and has no real feelings of consequence."
"You won't discuss it with me, Severus," Remus said, "so don't assume you know. And don't pretend Draco is my naïve victim."
"But Remus," Professor McGonagall said tiredly, "was it really necessary to sleep with the boy?"
"It's not the sleeping I find ethically dubious," Severus said, and Harry was almost angry with his smug tone.
"I am quite sure my ethics in that regard hold up just as well as yours," Remus said, so mildly that it nearly passed without any particular impact.
"What the hell does that mean?" Sirius finally exclaimed, turning to Harry, and it was almost a relief to think he might actually be held partly responsible if they were going to have this out.
There was a sweep of silence and everyone more or less sank into their respective chairs. Dumbledore said, rather sternly, "Thank you," and lowered his wand to the desk again. "The situation with Draco Malfoy is delicate," he continued. "I am sure we all appreciate the difficulty of the choices he is facing. . ."
"What choices?" Harry said, feeling quite definitely angry now. "What choices does he have?"
"Harry," Dumbeldore said, in that kind voice that made him feel like a confused child, "I'm sure your friendship will be very important for Draco, but it might not be wise to think you understand him."
"Millicent Bulstrode," Severus said, without prelude. "Malfoy was using her, more or less, as a spy. He thinks her more amateurish than she is, but Harry and I did catch her and she may be malleable. I would have to consider it more closely."
"You trust Millicent Bulstrode more than Draco," Harry said in an astonished tone.
Severus turned to him. "I understand her motivations, and so does she. I think it's a more contained possibility." Harry clearly waited on him to elaborate and with a slightly annoyed glance at Sirius he said, "She's unpopular and underestimated among her peers and, I think, at home. She will respond to a gesture of trust and appreciation," he looked at Dumbledore, "with a great deal of commitment. And she needs to know very little in order to be useful."
"Which one is Millicent Bulstrode?" Arthur asked.
"The dog-faced girl," Sirius said. Several appalled or annoyed looks shot his way. "I'm not saying she's not a good enough sort of girl," he didn't say 'for a Slytherin,' "but that's how the other students know her – that's the one she is."
"And as the dog-face girl," Severus said, tiredly, or perhaps even sadly, "she has little to lose by helping Malfoy, but she is clever enough to see the risks and may see an advantage in being useful to both sides."
"You would understand that," Sirius muttered, and Harry caught himself about to look at Severus. More than anyone, except maybe Dumbledore, Harry knew which side Severus was on and there was no need to wonder. . . he looked, and Severus met his glance, as if he expected it, with a tiny tight smile.
"How much would she actually know?" Arthur asked.
"Nothing," Severus said. "But could easily seek to be more useful and discover something we don't know."
With a whickering noise, the Headmaster's clock drew their attention. A little wooden owl on the upper rim ruffled its feathers and hooted as the hand swung to Everyone Must Sleep. On the perch below a little wooden cat briefly flicked and then re-curled its tail in disinterest.
"Yes, quite right," Dumbledore said. "We'll have nothing new until the morrow and we all need our rest if we are to be, as they say, vigilant."
With some deft manouevring on the part of he and McGonagall they managed to part without further argument or accusation. Harry made his way to his dormitory not tired in the least but more unhappy than he'd been for a week.
* * *
People he didn't even know wished Harry well as he walked with Hermione along the covered path between the Centre and the Malfoy Marquee. Spatters of rain made it seem like the cold grey sky was pressing on all sides upon the white awning."Well done, Harry," a passing witch said, and Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione.
"You wouldn't think you'd actually won the Charms exhibition and came second in Transfiguration. I could never change a quill into an owl, you know – it was brilliant, you should have won that too."
"That Rhys boy was very good. And really there wasn't so much competition in Charms." Harry nearly laughed because she seemed to have forgotten he'd been one of her competitors – not that he'd been particularly good. "Ron should never have been disqualified there – it's entirely arbitrary to label that animation spell a Transfiguration rather than a Charm."
A bunch of girls laughed and called out their congratulations. "Point is," Harry said more quietly, as they joined the queue near the entrance to the enormous white marquee, "that I haven't won anything. It's all more rubbish about the Boy Who Lived."
"Harry, the duel is obviously the prestige event, and to make the top eight is a real achievement." Her tone betrayed her disappointment there despite the ornamented pins declaring her success on her black school robe.
"Pansy's win was a fluke, Mione. You know that. It wasn't anything to do with, you know what. How could it be?"
"No, I know it wasn't the bond. She intimidated me, and I let her. I hate the way she looks at me sometimes. It's like. . . something under my skin, do you know what I mean?"
Harry didn't have to answer because was asked for his invitation. He finally found it, shrunk very small to fit in a tuck of his robe, but a white hand stopped him before he could he draw his wand.
"Nonsense, Mr Potter," Narcissa Malfoy said. "We know who you are, and you're always invited."