Reaching Maturity
Disclaimer: do I really need to say that they're not mine again? After all, this is not the sort of fic where you suddenly dive in at chapter 17 without reading the rest. But for the record, NOT MINE. Savvy?
I had a horrible dream on Sunday night. It was all about chocolate. Which normally would a fantastic dream. Except for the fact that I've given up chocolate for Lent and it's torture!
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Chapter 17: Sirius Returns to Hogwarts
A week later at breakfast, Dumbledore announced that the Ministry of Magic had issued a ruling with regards to education, stating that, should either students or parents wish it, students were permitted to go home and not return to school until "matters had been cleared up" – something that did not require the smartest Ravenclaw to ascertain that this should be interpreted as meaning the end of the war.
"I'm not going home," declared Seamus as the Gryffindor seventh-years made their way back to their common room. "Even if me mam and dad wanted me to go, I wouldn't. Not that they will – as far as we're all concerned, wherever Dumbledore is, is the safest place."
"Too right," agreed Harry as they approached the Fat Lady, his hand brushing against Hermione's and discreetly slipping into it.
"Most of the Slytherins'll go and join You-Know-Who," muttered Seamus darkly.
"Malfoy will," said Ron coldly. Parvati, next to him, nodded fervently in agreement.
Harry glared at him, all thoughts of Hermione's hand long gone. "Ron, has it completely escaped your notice that since the night those Dementors came, Pomfrey hasn't let him out of the hospital wing? He's still ill, for goodness' sake! Even if he were to join Voldemort – which he isn't – what use would he be? He'd collapse within minutes! He'd be completely useless!"
"Break it up," ordered Hermione wearily. "Personally, I'm more concerned about Voldemort's whereabouts. We don't know anything. Even if they don't tell the younger ones anything, us older ones are mature enough to not panic, and could even be useful! He could be out of this country for all we know!"
"Unlikely," Harry disagreed. "If he's coming after me – which we all know he is – he's hardly likely to leave Britain!"
"Harry has a point," conceded Dean as Hermione said the password and they all clambered through the portrait hole. "Who's done an essay and left it so close to the fire?"
"That's mine," Parvati informed him.
"You want to be careful putting it there," Seamus advised. "If it goes up in flames, no teacher's going to believe you, and they'll take points off."
Parvati glared at him and snatched up her essay. "I'd hurry if I were you, Seamus. McGonagall doesn't like to be kept waiting." She swept out of the room, Ron hurrying after her, and it wasn't long before the others followed her.
McGonagall was determined that every single student taking Transfiguration at NEWT level completely understood every last detail of the theory behind the Animagus transformation. Justin was hauled up for not paying attention and Parvati was told off for doing her nails rather than listening. "After this lesson," McGonagall told her coldly, "you will remove all of that stuff from your nails. I will see you at lunchtime to ensure that you have done so. Next time I catch you doing it, you will find yourself in detention." She turned to face the class. "You have your exams in three months. That amounts to just over twelve weeks. Ninety-five days, give or take a few. In other words, you have very little time left. Not long – so I suggest you pay attention and do some work."
Hannah grabbed Harry and Hermione at the end of the lesson. "It's Draco's birthday in a week," she told them in a low voice. "I want to get him something, but I don't know how, seeing as we're not allowed to leave the school grounds."
"We could ask Sirius," Harry muttered in Hermione's ear.
"He's in Lancashire, remember?" Hermione reminded him, her breath hot against Harry's skin.
"Oh. Yeah."
"So what do we do?" asked Hannah as they moved down the corridor to their next lessons.
"I suppose we could ask Lupin," said Harry slowly. "After all, the teachers still go down into the village. You could tell him what you want to get and give him the money; I reckon he'd be willing to do it."
"Do you know what you want to get him?" asked Hermione.
Hannah shrugged. "I don't; that's half the problem. I want to go down to Hogsmeade and have a good look round, to see what's available. Although I was thinking of some art-type stuff – you've seen his work. He's good at it and he enjoys doing it."
"So get something like that, then," suggested Hermione. "Some paints or something. I'm sure Lupin would get something for you if you asked him."
"Thanks," said Hannah, smiling. "I just wasn't sure. You know?"
Hermione nodded wryly. "I can sympathise with you. It's my parents' silver wedding anniversary in August, and I haven't got a clue what to get them. I mean, seriously – what can you get two dentists?"
"What do you usually get them?" asked Harry.
"Books, garden stuff, that kind of thing. But it's their silver – one of the big ones. I want to get them something special."
Hannah stopped momentarily, causing some second-years behind them to walk into her. She gave them a brief lecture on paying attention to where they were going (they were Ravenclaws; they could take being ticked off by a Hufflepuff) and then, after some rummaging, pulled out a wizarding postal catalogue. "Have a flick through this. There's some good stuff in it. It's what I first looked in for Draco."
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"Harry, Hermione – Lupin wants a word with you." Cecilia stood at the end of the table in the library at which they were sitting. Ron, still in a sulk about being excluded from the meeting in the corridor with Lupin and Snape the other night, was refusing to spend any time with them and was off somewhere with Parvati, according to Neville. Harry, although reluctant to admit it, was rather glad, as it meant that he was able to spend much more time with Hermione.
"Do you think Sirius has found out anything yet?" asked Hermione as they gathered their things up.
Harry shrugged. "I hope so, for Draco's sake. He's desperate for some sort of news."
They arrived in Lupin's office to find the DADA professor sitting on his desk and Snape standing by the door, as far away from the black dog stretched out by the fireplace as possible.
Lupin cleared his throat pointedly and Sirius transformed. Snape glowered at him, but a sharp look from Lupin forced him to keep his mouth shut.
"We have news," Sirius informed them grimly as Snape shut the door. "Narcissa was there at some point. Unfortunately, she has since disappeared. I don't know whether they know – or suspect – that we're on to them, or whether this move was already planned – you can never tell with Lucius Malfoy – but either way, there's no sign of her now."
"Did you find anything?" asked Hermione.
Sirius shook his head. "As far as the eye can see, she may as well have never been there. The only way I know she was there is through my enhanced sense of smell as Padfoot. Lucius Malfoy is clever."
"Maybe too clever," cut in Snape softly. "He's always had a tendency to bee slightly too complacent for his own good. Too arrogant. It could well be his downfall. Sooner or later he will slip up. It has happened in the past. And the next time it happens, we will be waiting."
"I thought you two were friends?" inquired Lupin mildly.
"Acquaintances, nothing more; his family were far better off financially than mine. Pureblood family connections. Not that either of you two know much about that."
"So we're basically back to square one," stated Hermione in an effort to stop the brewing squabble before it began.
Sirius sighed wearily, running his fingers through his black hair. "I honestly don't know, Hermione. Ideally I'd like to speak to Draco, see if he can tell us something we don't already know. He knows his father better than any of us."
"I doubt he can," said Lupin. "And besides, I really doubt that Poppy will let us in to see him. I was talking to her earlier and he's got worse in the last few days. The direct result of falling asleep in the Great Hall last week in nothing more than nightclothes and a dressing-gown, I shouldn't wonder."
"Is there anywhere else Narcissa could be?" asked Harry in an attempt to get back to the original topic. "Professor Snape? You were a Death Eater and you know Lucius Malfoy better than any of us. Have you got any ideas?"
Snape thought hard, staring at the floor as he did so. Eventually he straightened up. "There is a place…" he said slowly. "Apart from the Malfoy Manor itself, of course. It was built as a safe-house for Death Eaters, penetrable for them only."
"Which means I can't go there, I assume," said Sirius.
"Exactly. There's some kind of charm placed on it that senses the presence – or lack – of the Dark Mark. If it does not detect the Mark, attempts by magical folk to get inside will see you blown to tiny little pieces. Not a pleasant sight, I'm sure."
"But that could take days," Lupin pointed out. "And don't you think the students would get suspicious if you suddenly disappeared? Most of them are highly suspicious of you anyway, and most of the lower school are convinced you're a Voldemort supporter."
"Particularly if there is a Death Eater amongst the students," added Hermione.
"That's what the upcoming Easter holidays are for," said Sirius. He scowled. "Much as I hate to admit it, it's the best plan we've got, and if Snape is right, he's the only one of us who can carry it out."
"So we just do nothing until Easter?" demanded Harry, frustrated. Everyone seemed to do far too much talking and far too little actually doing.
"Yes, Harry. That's exactly what we have to do," Lupin replied briskly. "Now, in the meantime, I believe we have a Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quidditch match to focus on?"
"We're not the same with our new Seeker," muttered Snape. "Courtesy, indirectly, of our dear friend Lucius Malfoy." He glanced at the clock on Lupin's mantelpiece. "I must go. I have some third-years in detention." He left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Moments later there was a knock on the door, and Lupin opened it to find Hannah standing there. "Do come in," he invited.
Hannah obligingly did so. She stopped the moment she laid eyes on Sirius, who had not transformed. She blinked hard at him. "I never thought I'd come face-to-face with the most infamous Azkaban escapee," she remarked. "Harry and Hermione filled me in on the details, Mr. Black; I know you're innocent," she added hastily.
"That's fine, then," replied Sirius, smiling at her. "And if you're a friend of these two, feel free to call me Sirius. Or Padfoot, if you prefer. I've never been one for formalities. I'd make a terrible teacher."
Lupin barely suppressed a snicker.
"What brings you here, Hannah?" asked Lupin. "Has something happened to Draco?"
"Not exactly. It's just – it's his birthday in a week," explained Hannah, "and I want to get him something, but we're not allowed out of the castle."
"So you want a member of staff to go down with you?"
Hannah nodded. "I know roughly what I want to get, so I could give you the money if need be."
"I'll speak to Dumbledore and get you special permission to go down yourself with your head of house – Pomona Sprout, I believe?"
Hannah confirmed this with a nod. "Thanks, Professor Lupin." She glanced at Harry and Hermione. "Oh, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Hermione shook her head firmly. "We were actually going to come and find you in a minute anyway. It's to do with Narcissa Malfoy. Sirius has found where she was, but she's moved – or been moved – since. There's nothing more that can be done until the Easter holidays. I'm really not looking forward to telling Draco all this."
"You won't be allowed in to see him," Hannah informed them grimly, anxiously twisting a lock of her thick blonde hair around her finger. "He's developed some sort of chest infection – Madam Pomfrey either won't or can't tell me what it is – and he can't stop coughing and he's really having trouble breathing. She says that if anyone goes in to see him, there's a risk of him catching other infections, which will just make him worse than ever. She won't risk it."
"Are you allowed in?" asked Harry curiously.
A red tinge appeared on Hannah's already naturally rosy cheeks, which had been paler than normal recently because of all the anxiety over Draco, combined with everything else that had been going on. "I am; it's just everyone else that's banned." She shook herself. "Pomfrey said that we're allowed to have a small birthday party for him next week – just us four – depending on how well he is. I really hope he is."
"I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore and Pomona," said Lupin. "And I'm sure he'll be well enough by then. I was really ill just before my eighteenth – bad dose of the flu when it was going round the school like wildfire."
"You were certainly ill afterwards," remarked Sirius slyly.
"I'm amazed that you, of all people, can remember anything at all!" retorted Lupin. "Poppy could smell the alcohol on you a mile off!"
"And she couldn't on you?" Sirius shot back. "At least James was sober enough to get us both up to the hospital wing."
"With Lily's help. And then she had to get him seen to when he passed out. Probably from your weight." Lupin caught Sirius' eye and the two burst into howls of laughter, remembering what had clearly been a good night. The three seventh-years looked at each other and joined in at the images that were being created in their minds, Harry especially. Sirius had told him of the Marauders' exploits, but he definitely hadn't heard about Lupin's eighteenth birthday before. As the two adults continued to recount the tale, it became perfectly apparent just how many people had got drunk that night. Laughing was good; it temporarily lifted the cloud of darkness, gloom and fear that had settled over the school.
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TBC
Author thanks:
Lucidity: I had great fun writing the Sirius/Severus sniping. I despair of Sirius ever growing up. I don't think he had done in some ways when JKR killed him off. As for Lucius, it's safe to say you haven't seen the last of him yet in this fic. Glad you're enjoying this! Ron doesn't really feature in this; he's not one of my favourite characters so I've left him out as much as possible. As this story progresses, you'll be seeing less and less of him.
CloudofDreams: Miss Bickley likes Green Day? That woman has seriously good taste in music. She does rock! She was fantastic when things were really bad, and I'm eternally grateful to her for it. Could you tell Miss Burgess that Lancaster public library has quite a few Restoration and post-Restoration plays? I've currently got out Vanbrugh's The Provoked Wife, and Wycherley's The Country Wife and Congreve's The Way of the World (which she knows well because it was the A-Level text she taught me!) in one book, as well as Farquhar's The Beaux' Strategem and Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer (the latter of which I saw in Year 13 and am currently reading).
I promise to lend you the PotC soundtrack if you want to come over to mine sometime during the Easter holidays. I can't send it to you over MSN because: a) we haven't got Internet connection in the house here in Lancaster, b) the computer back home isn't modern enough and doesn't have Media Player, and c) we haven't been able to open the CD drive for over a year (mainly because despite the numerous mentionings on the issue to my father, he, true to form, has never got around to doing anything about it. Hopefully we'll get a new one over Easter. That's been the mentioned plan, at any rate. If my mother takes charge, it'll get done. If it's left to my dad, it won't.
Not sure about the difference between apocalypse and armageddon. Perhaps you could look it up and inform me? Madam Pomfrey did not perhaps make the best decision in sending Draco down, but it was an emergency, to be fair to the woman. Plus Draco would volunteer to do it just to get out of the hospital wing for a while! He's bordering on cabin fever.
Heartsyhawk: essays are incredibly annoying things. I've got to start thinking about my next lot. And my next placement. Character accuracy is extremely important to me so I do my best to get it right.
A Monkey's Harp: oh, I agree that life can be incredibly hectic and stressful. Just review as and when you can; no pressure. There's apparently a big-screen version of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe coming out this summer. I'm convinced it won't be as good as the BBC's version from about 1990.
Dark Lady Arantraneth: (goes bright red from praise) Hannon le! Enjoy!
Samhaincat: I'm an OT-in-training; I support the use of creative activities. Writing is mine. I can just imagine Severus saying that being dead is no excuse for not handing an essay in on time! I was thinking of McGonagall's line in PoA just after the first Divination when she says to Harry about his homework that if he does die, "you need not hand it in" (or something like that).
Rebell: Dementors not good. Not good! You burned all the food, the shade, the – Oh whoops! Wrong story! The escape of the Dementors basically signifies that things are going to get a lot worse. Draco is definitely bordering on cabin fever.
TinorialPeredhil (via e-mail because won't let you review): I know I'm cruel to Draco, but it's the best way to get people on his side because he gets lots of sympathy! It's all about the sympathy vote! I promise you that I don't write specifically for manic depressives; I just have a wide range of genres I'm interested in and am able to write well. I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of Hermione's temper, believe you me! I will not comment on Sirius and Severus reach maturity; they could (finally) do so by the end, because it's not just Harry that's reaching maturity. Relax, relax; Sirius will be fine. In this fic at least, he's more than capable of producing a Patronus if need be.
