Chapter Six
A week had passed, and still Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to eachother. It wasn't a surprise anymore, just a burden. Harry now believed the temperature depended on the mood between Ron and Hermione, because the ground had been covered with frost since the morning after their argument. It was also the fifteenth of December, and he recalled that Remus had only been absent three days from the school so far. From what Tamora had told him, Moody must have given Remus something to ease his pain.
For Tamora, on the other hand, the pain was just around the corner. Draco had been following her for days on end, asking her incessant questions. From the very first day he'd begun to trail her in the hallways, all Harry heard was 'No, leave me alone', 'Goodbye', and yells of frustration. Today was no different. Tamora had to fend off Malfoy before she sat down near Harry and Ron at the table in the Great Hall.
"Hello Harry."
Harry nodded in her direction, still worn with drowsiness.
Ron bid her good morning and sat near her, taking food from every plate he could reach. Hermione sat at the opposite end of the table near Lee and Dean, stirring her food lazily and glaring at Ron.
Tamora decided to break the tension. "I was talking to Remus before, and he's been using a type of–"
A brightly colored macaw carrying an oblong parcel flew over the tables, landing on Tamora's plate.
"What's that?" asked Ron.
"Parchment."
"No, the bird!"
Tamora giggled, "My pet."
"Your pet is a tropical bird?"
Harry grinned, "Sirius sent me a few parrots before. This was one of them, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"What's its name?"
She paused, "Father named it Snivellus." Ron took one look at the loud-hued parrot and let out a snort, making ripples in his orange juice.
Harry smiled lightly, "Sounds like something Sirius would do."
After Harry had finished talking, Ron laughed, almost choking on his food. "Go ahead, read the note."
A piece of parchment was attached to the outside of the parcel. The writing was that of Mr. Ollivander's.
Rosewood, 10 3/4 inches, Dragon Heartstring.
Unusual combination.
Useful for Divination, Healing, and Love charms.
Heartstring is especially powerful
for Defense spells.
This is the second wand issued.
Be more careful this time, Miss Black.
"Oh, I'm going to have to thank Remus. It's my new wand. Mine was confiscated a few days ago by Filch because I charmed Mrs. Norris to fly. She was found floating around the Hufflepuff common room after a few hours of searching. Filch told me my wand was 'accidentally snapped in two'. I've been using Remus' wand, and it's been chaos."
"You charmed Mrs. Norris? Wicked!" he said, scarfing down his food. "We've got another exam in Transfiguration today, Harry."
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about it..."
"I have Quidditch practice this morning, boys- sorry to cut our chat short," Tamora left the table, waving goodbye. Ron waved dreamily at her, granting him a glare of death from Hermione at the other end of the table.
In Transfiguration, Harry and Ron sat stupefied at their desks. Each pair of students rose at a given time to receive their assignment, completed it (or failed it), and took a seat. After almost an hour, their names were called by Professor McGonagall.
"Potter and Weasley. You're next."
Harry was quite nervous, and Ron was obviously sharing his misgivings. They'd mutated eachother several times in their endeavors in this class, and today seemed like it would be a futile attempt to do... whatever it was she chose for them.
"Mr. Potter," she begun. McGonagall peered over the top of her glasses at the rolled parchment. "You have been assigned the following for your exam. You will be transforming Mr. Weasley into a Quaffle. This would seem quite an easy task, except that the Quaffle must also be yellow. Bright green stripes are extra credit. You may begin when you are ready." Harry had never heard of such a bizarre task. Ron? A yellow, bright green-striped Quaffle? It was difficult enough to transform him into a leather boot. Even then, the boot had clumps of defiant red hair as well as a nose protruding from its usually smooth exterior.
Harry closed his eyes, visualizing the Quaffle in his hand. He took a deep breath, and in the instant after he had murmured the spell, he opened his eyes. Upon McGonagall's desk sat a bright green-striped, yellow Quaffle... wearing a pointed witch's hat.
"Well," said Ron, looking at the Quaffle, "at least you got the spell right..."
Harry reversed the spell, returning McGonagall to her original state. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I advise you to focus on the subject you wish to transform before you recite the spell. Open your eyes next time, perhaps? Never-the-less, I will give you credit, if Mr. Weasley can complete your transformation correctly. You must transform Mr. Potter (completely, I might add) into a rodent of your choice. This rodent, whichever it may be, must have white feathered wings. These wings must be in the proper place, or I will deduct points and Mr. Potter will not receive a passing grade. You were partners through this entire class, after all. Begin."
Ron blanched, muttering something about failing the course. He stood before Harry, his wand at the ready. "Well... here goes nothing, then." A small explosion occurred soon after the spell was uttered, and the students jumped back in their desks.
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. You may be seated," said McGonagall while the classroom was still engulfed in smoke. Ron sat in his desk, fidgeting nervously, waiting to see what exactly he had turned Harry into. At first, he feared it would be an inanimate object (or several inanimate objects), toadstools and the like. At last, he caught a glimpse. The smoke cleared, and a white-winged orange sloth hovered in the air, making odd squeaking noises and thrashing its short legs about. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, allowing McGonagall to transform Harry again.
"Well done, both of you. A three-toed sloth is not in fact a rodent, Mr. Weasley, and I am almost positive they are not commonly orange. However, your extremely limited knowledge of animals does not alter your passing grade."
"Excellent," Harry muttered to him once they were seated. Ron smiled appreciatively, still astounded that he hadn't permanently deformed Harry or blasted him into a thousand pieces.
"May I have your attention for just a moment." All heads turned to Professor McGonagall. "Thank you. After this exam, we will begin a new chapter of Transfiguration. I would like everyone who is finished with their exam to take out a clean roll of parchment and copy down the following page numbers at the top..."
The next day, after Herbology, Ron and Harry were still displaying their relief from the day before that they hadn't failed Transfiguration, or killed anyone.
"Lupin's reviewing boggarts today," said Ron with a small grin. "Wonder who's going to have the best boggart. I bet Tamora's is Trelawney with a tea cup."
Harry shook his head doubtfully, "No. I think I know what it is..." She had told him she was weak once. Weakness... but death had ruled her life, just as it had ruled his. Maybe it was best that Harry hadn't known them... though it didn't ease the pain. He believed her boggart was... death. How would it be depicted? Would it be the memory of her mother's death? Or a wave of green light? Or would it be her own? Or worse... would it be Harry's? He shuddered, nearly tripping over the end of Ron's robes when the hall came back into focus.
"Harry! Ron!" exclaimed Tamora, running from behind them and hanging an arm over each of their shoulders. "Remus is teaching us about boggarts today."
"Yeah, that's what we were talking about. Ever seen your boggart?"
Tamora nodded, but didn't say precisely what it was. "...It changed once. But I've had a fear of one thing for several years. You never really know, do you?"
"No, I suppose not," answered Harry aloofly. Remus waved. Tamora's inhibition disappeared and she raced towards Remus, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing the life out of him.
"Hello Tamora," Remus said, smiling down at her.
"Is Hermione here?" she asked him.
"She told me she was going to switch classes. She was really in a rush, and she didn't explain why..."
Ron scowled, "I know why..."
"Let's go, Ron," said Tamora, changing the subject.
"Tamora," said Remus before she walked through the doorway. "I don't think this is a good idea, this boggart."
"I know what it is, and I know how to solve it. It's all right, Remus. I know how to handle death. Lord knows you do."
Remus smiled at her. "Have a seat, then. Hello, and welcome to the most interesting hour of your life. I assure you that you will never forget anything that you see or hear today. Today, we will be reviewing boggarts." Something relative to Muggle music played softly on the record player; Harry was sure he had heard Dudley blasting it through the speakers of his disk player during the summer. There was a driving beat behind it, and some sort of guitar.
"All right, Ron. Wand at the ready." The boggart scurried out, with the body of a spider and the head of his mother, screaming at him and crawling towards him. "RONALD! YOU'VE GOTTEN INTO TROUBLE AGAIN?! WHAT IS IT THIS TIME- DID YOU GET GINNY IN ANY TROUBLE?! IF YOU DID, SO HELP ME I'LL–"
"Riddikulus!" Ron barked, shooting his mother's mouth clean off of her face, the legs of the spider contracting and becoming internalized.
"Good!" said Remus, "Next!"
One by one, each approached their fear, some were common, some were not. Dean Thomas was in their class, and his boggart had been a particularly nasty poodle named Buttons.
"Riddikulus!" said Dean, and Buttons' hair fell off onto the floor and he was chased away by a black and white great dane. "My cousin's poodle nearly took off my finger this summer," he explained, stepping out of the line. Tamora stood before the closet, waiting for the boggart inside to be released. "Are you very sure?" Remus asked for the last time. She was. Death was an obstacle no longer. She was prepared. There was no reason to fear it. Then, she felt her stomach turn over. If she was prepared, than she didn't fear it. If death wasn't her worst fear anymore, then...
Remus unlocked the closet door and took a step back. There was a long silence before the boggart appeared. Slender fingers reached out to grab the door, opening it slightly. Tamora flinched, knowing exactly what it... he... was. A dark-robed, blond-haired nightmare wearing a smirk stepped into the room. "Hello Tamora," said Draco softly, approaching her with a confident stride. She stepped backward, and with each step she took he advanced, until eventually she had no where to go and leaned backwards on a desk. Harry and Ron were both astounded that she hadn't destroyed him yet. In fact, Remus seemed the most interested, waiting for her to stop him. Draco was pressed up against her completely and about to touch her hair when she finally pushed him away and yelled, "Riddikulus!"
Instantly Draco was clothed in what was apparently was extremely pink Muggle lingerie. Even Remus had to stifle a chuckle when Malfoy yelled out loud and cursed, trying to cover whatever he could with his arms and hands. Remus sighed and reluctantly sent the boggart back into its closet. "Very good... Tamora. I'd also like to speak with you after class." A few students jeered her, others applauded when she took her seat at the back of the class.
Justin sneered at her. "Your greatest fear is a coward like Malfoy? You don't have anything more terrifying than that git in your life? You're too sheltered, then."
"If I didn't have more class than you, I would have put the Cruciatus curse on you so fast it would properly decapitate Sir Nicholas." Remus picked up on the conversation and had caught her remark, taken aback.
Once class was dismissed, Remus called to her. "Tamora, please remain seated." The class filed out of the door, though Harry stayed behind a few more minutes, hanging in the doorway.
"Who is this blonde young man you're so afraid of?" she didn't answer, but instead wrung her fingers nervously. "Oh dear- was that Malfoy's son?"
"It's nothing. He's just a little too proud, and I have nothing else to fear."
"Oh really?" said Remus doubtfully. "How about death, danger, Voldemort?"
Tamora scoffed, "Voldemort, please. I'll never see that power-hungry fool as long as I live. You're really reading far too much into this."
"All I'm reading into this is my little girl is threatened by some boy at school. He must be someone powerful."
"Not at all. And I'm not little."
"That's not the point."
She looked upon him questioningly, "Then what is?"
"The point," said Remus, "is that you shouldn't be afraid of someone who is inferior to you."
"I know..." she left the room, "but what if he isn't all that inferior?"
"Tamora, come back here." ordered Remus.
"I'm going to be late for class. Bye, Moony."
Remus waved, "Bye, love. Have... fun." As soon as she had walked down the hall, Remus motioned to Harry. "Don't let her alone with that boy." Harry nodded, making his way to Divination. This was one of the only classes in which Harry was truly alone and confused. The only people he recognized were Millicent Bullstrode and Seamus, and neither could help concerning Trelawney. She'd predicted death in his family at least four times since the start of term, as well as famine in a small third-world country because Pluto was in the second house.
"Welcome, welcome. Please begin to read your partner's palm using the chart on your table. I will return to see what you have discovered about the person across from you and their fate. Please, everyone, take your seats and begin! Your partner's life may hang in the very delicate balance of the unknown!"
"What a load of–" began Seamus, but Trelawney floated by his desk dreamily to the back of the classroom. She fumbled with some charts and astrological mobiles, paying no attention to the class, which was paying no attention to her instructions. Harry began the palm reading by scribbling some complete nonsense in the language of the 'unknown', which quite basically meant that someone would take ill or die in the near future.
"Mr. Potter, very interesting- I also see the plague running in Mr. Finnigan's family."
"Erm, Professor, the plague isn't hereditary–"
"And Mr. Finnigan! Very, very good! I can see the resemblance to Harry's great grandfather. You are correct, he will soon have quite a nasty case of boils, because Mercury is in the seventh house. Excellent, both of you! You've very much improved over the past... three years, is it?" They both nodded carelessly as she moved onto the next pair.
"What's all this with Hermione changing her classes?" Seamus asked. "She used to be in my Charms class, and now she's gone! Ron won't tell me anything about it."
Harry didn't quite know what to say. "Well, Ron and Hermione have been fighting, and... well... it's difficult to understand. They've just been getting on eachother's nerves for the past five years... So, what did you write about my palm, then?" he implored.
"I wish I knew," Seamus kidded. "Have you ever really answered a question in this class because you understood what was going on?"
"Who do you take me for, Lavender?"
"She sure likes to pucker up to Trelawney's–"
"Continue with crystal ball reading, there will be an essay due by next Friday. You must write a minimum of thirty lines on the moons of Jupiter and their effect on the weather!"
When they descended the ladder from Trelawney's classroom, Harry heard a pungent remark from behind him.
"–and Potter's clinging to her so much, you'd think they were siamese twins. I don't think he has any friends except for Weasley and Granger. He has to prey off of Tamora's mercy to gain popularity. So much for the famous Harry Potter." He heard the exceedingly oafish laughs of Crabbe and Goyle, though the two lummoxes hadn't understood a word he had spoken..
"I wouldn't talk about people who cling to Tamora if I were you, Malfoy," he answered coolly. "And I don't carry two human walls around to protect myself from a fight."
Harry was correct. Goyle would have been a tree excluding the fact that he was now much larger around as well. He wouldn't exactly camouflage the wall due to the rather large acne on his face and neck. Crabbe had not become a great deal taller, but he had become stockier, and in his black robes could easily be mistaken for any given wall outside of the school.
"I won't waste your time. You've probably got to go kiss Dumbledore's ass some more on the way to the Great Hall."
"That's the best you could do? Why don't you go call Hermione a Mudblood again. I'd love to see her beat the life out of you at least one more time before Christmas."
Draco raised his eyebrows in mock interest. "I'd really like to see her try. Her and Weasley. Won the lottery a year or two ago, didn't he? I bet he'd never seen so much money in his life. Bet he didn't even know what a galleon was till now."
"I bet his father wasn't running mad somewhere, killing Muggles like a deranged dog. Where is your father now, Malfoy? Does the Ministry even care? Or have they already erased his files and forgotten all about the rich, influential Malfoy family? Have they?"
Draco raised his wand, preparing to duel. "At least I have a father, Potter! At least both of my parents were pure-blood, not some Mudblood half-wits who got themselves killed! You're almost a half-blood, aren't you, Potter? Mother wasn't a pure-blood, was she? No, I didn't think so. Just some filthy, worthless garbage–"
WHAM. Malfoy's remarks were met with a fist in his face, as well as a charm soon to follow. Malfoy fell flat on his back, wiping blood from his lip. No sooner than he had risen, he was prepared to defend himself. Harry felt a blow strike hard against his jaw, and he saw stars as a second punch hit him between his eyes. He stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. He wouldn't give Malfoy the pleasure of seeing him fall.
The pain in his head was still very sharp, and the anger was even more dangerous. He launched a fist at Malfoy's stomach, then a second at his head, and a third blow, a fourth... They were drawing a crowd now, students stopped in their tracks to watch the brawl.
Draco struck again, punching Harry squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Why were they fighting with fists? His question was answered when Malfoy once again drew his wand.
"OBLIVIATE!"
The spell just barely missed Harry's head, singeing his hair just above his ears.
"Obliviate? What do you think you're doing?! Diffindo!" Malfoy's robes split down the middle, and he was left with nothing but his shirt and pants underneath. Galleons spilled onto the floor from what once was his pocket, and his prefect badge was ruined.
"Sonorous!" Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry threateningly.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry's voice had been magnified so greatly that the windows shattered around him. Malfoy was flung into the air, nearly flying out of the window himself. Harry was barely aware that they had caused quite a stir, and nearly a third of the school was now watching them.
"Quietus."
Draco composed himself, taking his wand from the floor.
"STUPEFY!" he and Harry yelled simultaneously. Both were knocked unconscious instantly, blown backwards by their spells.
"Harry!" said Hermione, her cry falling on deaf ears. "Ron, bring Professor McGonagall..."
Harry felt a heaviness in his entire body, almost like weariness, but he wasn't at all tired. There were voices, and he knew for certain he was in the hospital wing.
"Miss Granger, if Mr. Potter should wake..."
It was Madam Pomfrey that he heard before his mind went blank again.
"I think he's about to wake up." He heard Ron's voice, and Hermione's as well. "Madam Pomfrey! He's waking up now."
Harry opened his eyes slightly, peering out at the most baffling sight he had ever seen. Every bed in the hospital wing was filled, with Madam Pomfrey running frantically from student to student. He recognized nearly half of the room as Slytherin students, the other half as Gryffindor, and some of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
"Miss Patel, drink this. Pass this down to Miss Chang in the corner there. Potter, my goodness. You're one of the last to wake. That was quite a spell you cast yesterday evening."
"Madam Pomfrey, what time is it?"
"Eight o'clock at night. Hermione, over here. You can see him now."
Hermione stood over him. "Hello."
"...What's all this?" Harry said, taking a look around the very crowded room.
"Your fight with Malfoy. The spell you both cast at the same time knocked you both out. But... Everyone standing watching you duel was hit with the same spell. The hospital wing has been flooded with students since yesterday."
"We knocked all of these people unconscious?"
"I'm afraid so," she answered, handing a pillow to Madam Pomfrey. "The Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch game was an abomination. Half of the Slytherin Quidditch team was in here. And besides, it was frigid out there. It rained, hailed, and eventually snowed, and the game just ended not a half an hour ago. It began at eleven this morning." Harry eyes darted to Malfoy in the bed farther down the row that was across from him, still unconscious.
"Has Malfoy been awake yet?"
"No."
"They didn't have a Seeker for the game?"
Hermione laughed, "Of course they did. You think Slytherin would give up that easily? Someone must have filled in, because Tamora brought that in after the game. They won." The Snitch lay on a table beside Draco's bed, frozen solid under a layer of ice and snow, its wings bent feebly.
"I'll bet anything that Tamora filled in as Seeker."
"She's the best Keeper they've ever had. I doubt they'd let anyone else take her place, even for one game." There was a bit of anger in what Hermione had said, and Harry had heard it in her voice when she argued with Ron. She was jealous.
"You know, she's not the best on the team." That was a lie. All of the top players on the Slytherin team had left, and Malfoy wasn't quite as good in his position as Tamora was in hers. In fact, she could replace Malfoy as Seeker if she had the inclination. Maybe she should have requested to be sorted again, like Sirius. Gryffindor needed a new Keeper, and from what Tamora had told him, Malfoy took the Keeper they already had off of the team with a bribe. Maybe he could bribe the Keeper back onto the team. But then there was Tamora.
She didn't want to be in Gryffindor. She wanted to endure Slytherin two years and hopefully live to tell the tale. Maybe by the end of next year she'd manage to kill Malfoy...
"Ron, did you see the match?" Harry called to him. As soon as Ron walked to Harry's bed Hermione fled to do some mystery errand for Madam Pomfrey.
"Yeah, half of it. It was so bloody cold out there I kept lighting my Divination charts on fire to keep myself warm. Then I had to go inside eventually and come back out later."
"How was the Slytherin team? Who filled in for Malfoy?" Harry was eager to hear the details of the match.
Ron thought a moment. "It was Montague for the first quarter of the match, then he was knocked off of his broom from fifty feet in the air by hail the size of a garden gnome. So for a while, Tamora filled in, then they called her back for Keeper because Hufflepuff was actually making goals for once. So Goyle was considered, then they found out he doesn't even know what a Snitch is, so Warrington was the final person. What was strange was when the hail was really thick, I think I saw Tamora catch the Snitch and hand it Warrington. I could be wrong, though." Ron pointed to a bed a few rows away on the same side of the room. "You can ask Tamora if you like. Her entire arm is frozen. Someone thought it was funny to shoot water at her near the end of the game, and her glove was torn off besides."
Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked to Tamora. Her eyes were half-open and she was holding bluebell flames to her right arm in an attempt to thaw the layer of ice. It was much darker in the hospital wing now, and almost everyone was sleeping. She looked up for a second.
"Hello Harry." Everything from her elbow to just above her wrist was still encased in the ice, and her fingers were covered in frost.
"How's your arm?"
"Thawing nicely," she answered, extinguishing the flames for a moment. "You?"
"Fine. I think I did a little damage to Malfoy. I think we both did a little damage to half of the school..."
Tamora laughed, "Not more than the Quidditch match. We've had a team total of thirty broken bones, half of them from Montague. And there were only five of us out there." Harry winced with sympathy, holding bluebell flames to her fingers. The frost dripped onto her robes and almost instantly her fingers were a healthier color than their previous bluish-purple.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." He sat in a chair by her bed, observing her careful work of thawing her arm. Her eyes were fixed on the flames, even though they darted to Draco every so often. He noticed how her hair was black as onyx, and her eyes were very dark like Sirius'. He recalled how much she resembled Rosaline, though she had a bravery and boldness that Sirius had possessed in abundance. So kind, like her mother. Sharp-witted like her father. How much he would've liked to spend his life knowing them both. What wouldn't he give to have them all back; Padfoot, Prongs, his mother, and Rosaline.
Tamora glanced up at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just thinking."
"Of what?"
It was so clear to him now. Tamora was here for a very important reason. She arrived in time to calm the rage and pain at Sirius' death, but she was also a constant reminder that the memory of his godfather had never ceased to live. She was the embodiment of the Marauders as they once were. Everything had changed when she arrived. He had forgotten to hate, at least until he saw Remus' memories in the pensieve.
"Harry?" her eyes seemed amber now. They had a lumination that Harry knew was her common bond with the black cat he often saw leaving their common room late at night. While Harry was lost in his many thoughts, at last it occurred to him that Tamora was calling him.
"Ah... erm... Who caught the Snitch?"
"Well, I don't know if I should say it aloud, there might be some... opponents... awake."
Harry leaned in so she could whisper it into his ear, but jumped a few feet back when he felt her frozen arm brush against his hand. "Sorry. Wait a minute... did you talk to Ron?"
She looked about to see that all of the Hufflepuffs were asleep. "No. If he didn't see Warrington catch the Snitch, than it wasn't Ron's fault. He didn't catch it. I did."
"Why?"
"At that point, I would've done anything to end the match. Warrington was about to be hit by a Bludger, so I reached out for the Snitch instead. If I hadn't, we would all still be out there in the storm for over nine hours.. It was already eight and two-thirds. As for injuries, Warrington's over there right now with a broken wrist, and a few other fractures. But at least he's safe from the snow and hail. I heard even the Whomping Willow lost a few branches from the hailstorm."
Harry finally asked her, "What happened in Divination?"
"Oh, yes. I have to explain that. Tonks was dressed as Trelawney. The Order sent her to tell me about Pettigrew and Lestrange. They've been sighted, Harry. Lucius, too. He's been wandering around Grimmauld Place."
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I didn't want to tell you until I could speak with Remus. Draco heard it, too."
Harry raised an eyebrow, "Malfoy was allowed to hear it?"
"Well his father is a maniacal killer now. I think Draco has the right to know where he is." She thought of something important, nodding as if making up her mind whether or not to tell him. "Peter was seen last in the London Underground, lord knows why. He never was very sharp. I've been setting mousetraps underneath my bed and around my luggage."
"For Peter?"
"No, for Draco. He's been sneaking into the girls' dormitories lately in socks because he thinks that I can't hear him if his shoes are off. Wakes me up every time. So, I hope he steps by my bed in bare feet next time. I'll be ready for him. Maybe he'll stop if he loses a few toes."
Harry smiled in spite of himself. He could imagine Draco sneaking into the dormitories in bare feet and stumbling over a few aptly-placed mousetraps in the pitch-blackness, and Tamora hearing the entire thing with a triumphant smirk plastered on her face. That was another thing about Tamora that had been advanced since she became an Animagus. She could hear uncommonly well before, but now, it was almost eerie how much she heard.
"Tamora, I remember you said wolfsbane would most likely kill Remus."
"And?"
"...Remus used a Wolfsbane potion before. Why wasn't it lethal?"
"Ah yes. That. Well, actually, the Wolfsbane caused the bout of dementia you saw that night. He would have had some control over the wolf had he not taken the potion before. It was accumulating with every potion he drank, and when he stopped, that was the reaction. There was barely any wolfsbane it the potion itself; it was mostly water. Had he taken any more wolfsbane in any form, it would've driven him mad the moment he drank it and eventually killed him.
"There is lighter news. Moody said he's found something Remus can use, something safe. He didn't tell me exactly what it was, but I trust Mad-Eye enough. He wouldn't put Remus in danger. He might turn Draco into a ferret, though. You should've seen the look on his face when Moody threatened him." She was wearier now. He assumed she hadn't slept at all. Her arm was completely frozen, it must have kept her awake.
"I'll keep thawing the ice. You try to sleep," said Harry.
She held her wand closer to her arm. "Nonsense."
"Go to sleep. You're tired. I can tell." He halted her in her protest. "Sleep. I'm fine." She finally gave in and closed her eyes with a half-smile. "Thanks, Harry."
An hour or two later, Harry was about to doze off in the chair by her bed when Lupin crept into the room.
"Harry?" he whispered. "Harry?" His eyes locked on Harry, and he became frantic. "Oh, there you are. How are you? When did the match end? Is she hurt?" He examined her arm with a certain amount of shock.
"I'm fine. Half of her arm is frozen solid, and I think I saw Madam Pomfrey give her some Skele-Gro earlier. She's been asleep for a few hours now."
"Oh thank god, they gave me such a scare when they told me about the match. I've been in the dungeons all afternoon. I didn't even know about the storm."
"Who are they?"
"Dumbledore and McGonagall."
Harry played back what Remus had said in his mind. "...Why were you in the dungeons? You told me a few days ago that you wouldn't miss the game for the world."
"Well... I wasn't quite feeling myself today. I just thought it was better to stay inside."
"In the dungeons?" asked Harry. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Oh yes, fine. I was just a bit under the weather. Did she seem to be in pain? Tell me what happened during the game, Harry."
"Not much. A lot of bones broken in both teams. Hail... snow... Tamora caught the Snitch."
"Did she really?" Remus asked, muttering something to make very large flames erupt from his wand. "Sorry. I can't tell you, you're not allowed some spells until next year. You're honestly not ready for some of these spells." He held the flames to her arm, the ice melting rapidly.
"I bet you learned them your third year."
"Second," he admitted, "but that's beside the point. I learned the advanced spells because I needed to."
"And I won't? I'm facing Voldemort, Remus!"
"But you're not going to burn him to death- just wait until it's safer. After all, you're not going to be able to defend yourself with your head blown off. And I assure you, that's what will happen if you try something too advanced."
"Oh really?" Harry stood, moving towards the middle of the room. He visualized the stag, and in an instant he stood four cloven hooves and horns protruded from a glistening white pelt.
"Oh my..." said Remus with approval, "Tamora's work, no doubt? I knew she wouldn't keep it a secret, but this is miraculous... Fine work, Harry. Well done. But you know this must be kept a secret." The stag bowed his head in a slow nod. "Yes. I always thought you'd be a stag like your father. Very noble creatures. Now transform back before Madam Pomfrey comes in to make the rounds for medicine."
Harry transformed with ease; he had been practicing in the dormitories late at night, and after long Quidditch practices when no one was looking.
"I'm very proud of you, and Tamora. What animal is she?– Wait, don't tell me... She's got to be something black, it's in her nature, not just her name. She's always been quieter than Sirius, but far more determined and bold. And she is quite crafty. I bet she's a cat."
"Yeah," said Harry. "And she taught Ron and Hermione, too."
"Well I knew it would be an easy task for Hermione. But Ron... I'm impressed."
"Oh. His animaigus is a–"
"Toad, yes. Tamora told me about that when she explained what happened with Draco."
"I'm not quite clear what happened; what did she tell you?"
"Exactly what she told you. He tried some tricks to get them alone together and she had not choice but to stun him. I'm not sure how much of that is true, but if there's something worse involved, I'm not sure that I'd want her to tell me. The point is that she's fine." The ice was almost completely melted, and Tamora's skin beneath the ice had taken on a deep sickly blue. "Poor thing... I don't know who would have done that to her. It looked like the severing charm and the water came from the Gryffindor stands; at least that's what McGonagall thought. Do you know anyone in Gryffindor who would hate her for any reason?"
Harry looked around the room, and saw Hermione quickly lay down and pretend to sleep as if he'd never notice. "...No. No I don't."
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing. Just a barn owl," said Harry loud enough for Hermione to hear.
Hermione frowned in her 'sleep', turning over in the bed.
"Actually, Remus, someone comes to mind, but I can't tell just yet... All I know is I'd never harm a friend out of jealousy. Never."
Remus had finally melted the ice completely. He extinguished the flames, taking her hand in his. Tamora's arm immediately fell limp and her arm was contorted mid-way.
"It's broken," Remus said, cradling her arm. Harry looked over her forearm, finding that as Remus cradled it, a point just below her wrist bent backward where the bone had broken completely.
"Oh," Harry let out an involuntary sound of alarm. He saw, now that the ice was off, that the bones in her arm were quite damaged. Remus pressed very lightly on the skin below her wrist, trying to make her wrist completely vertical. Tamora cried out in her sleep and grasped her arm, causing more pain. She sat up unexpectedly, not entirely awake, but all the more enraged.
"DRACO GET OUT OF–" She opened her eyes, the hospital wing coming into view. "...Hello Remus."
Harry tried not to seem skeptical, but she'd just yelled at Draco in her sleep... Remus elbowed him so that he would stop staring into space.
"Hello love," Remus said cheerfully, trying to hide his weariness.
Tamora scooted over on the bed, beckoning Remus to sit. "You'll sleep here, won't you?"
"Well... all right. But I have to leave early in the morning. I've got classes to teach, and I have to get Madam Pomfrey before you go to sleep. That arm needs attention."
Remus called Madam Pomfrey in, who moved quickly about with Skele-Gro and bandaging cloth. "Oh dear, that's quite a break. Completely detached, I'm afraid. This needs extra attention. Montague had four just like this. The very end of his backbone- hanging by a thread! Don't know why they allow Quidditch, it draws people to the hospital wing in droves! Now I'm only doing this because it's necessary." She ordered the cloth to animate with a flick of her wand, and it wrapped itself around Tamora's arm, trying to snap her arm into place. "Do you know how you were carrying on in your sleep earlier today? You'll keep your arm from healing with all of that moving around! This is the only way. If I wrapped your arm too fast, it'd be a great deal more painful."
Tamora hissed, biting her lip and shutting her eyes tightly. "Must it hurt more than when my skin was adhered to ice?!" Her eyes opened wide and flashed a bright amber.
Harry jumped back. She was transforming... in a way. She was still human... But if anyone saw her transformation, she'd be expelled. Madam Pomfrey stood aghast, dropping her wand to the floor involuntarily, drawing her hand to her mouth.
"Remus," he whispered, "do something!" Remus seemed to be just as stunned as Harry. Tamora made a slow growl of a noise, trying to reverse the transformation. At that moment, Draco woke with a start in the bed across from hers, staring at the sharp claw-like fingernails now forming at the ends of her fingers.
Madam Pomfrey was barely aware of what was occurring, and she shrieked, waking up most of the students. Remus did the only thing he could think of to stop her, and the only reasonable solution. "Stupefy," he whispered, Tamora falling instantly unconscious. The claws were fingernails, and she was completely relaxed in a human state. Madam Pomfrey looked from Tamora, to Remus above her with his wand drawn, and then to Harry, fainting onto Neville in the bed behind her.
"What did you..." Draco began, finding himself at a loss for words. It appeared that Draco was the only person that had seen her, because in the moment that Tamora had produced claws, she had knocked the only lit candles out of the air. It had been so dark, that only Remus had seen what exactly had taken place.
Remus faced the bewildered students with a collected presence, "I am terribly sorry that Madam Pomfrey woke you. She had not noticed that Tamora was in the bed, and she sat down on her frozen arm." A few students laughed, others whispered about what they thought they had truly seen. None were correct. It had been far too dark. No matter what the students thought, the majority returned to their slumber and left well enough alone. Draco, never known to leave any matter without questioning, stayed awake, watching Remus raise his wand. "Ferula," he muttered, Tamora's arm quickly wrapped in a splint. Harry had seen it before, in the Shrieking Shack; Remus had then used it on Ron.
"Harry," whispered Remus, "it's because she's underage. She wasn't prepared for the stage of Animagus just yet. I wish I didn't have to do that..."
"Better unconscious than expelled," Harry reasoned. "But... why hasn't that happened to any of us?"
"It affects everyone differently," he explained, "it's possible Ron was not able to return to a human state on Halloween for the same reason Tamora transformed out of pain. Heightened emotions can cause the witch or wizard to transform, or become unable to do so. But once you master it, if age and maturity permit, you will control it. You seem to have already succeeded, Harry. Even with the thought that Madam Pomfrey might be coming you kept a cool head. That's where you differ from both. You have more control over fear, and anger."
"That's because I've dealt with it more," he answered slowly, sitting back in the chair by Tamora's bed again. "Where are you going to sleep now?"
"Here with Tamora," said Remus, crawling into the bed. "That's what she said, after all. She's scared, I can tell. She always stays very near to me when she's scared. It's her protection. Well, goodnight, Harry. I'll see you in the morning."
Harry shot a glance at Draco, who was still awake sitting up in bed. "What are you doing awake? Keep out of her business, Malfoy. The last thing she needs right now is you to disturb her sleep."
"I didn't say anything to you, Potter. I wanted to see if her claws were frozen still." Malfoy had looked saddened at first glance, but Harry knew that was impossible. He never felt any type of pity for anyone. "I see you're still wearing that black eye. Quite impressive, isn't it?"
"No more impressive than you are," Harry replied, "and leave her alone. Hermione won't be able to stop me next time I try to kill you. Next time I'll succeed. So you'd best stay away from her."
"What about Granger? D'you think my father will spare her if the Dark Lord sees fit to kill? Oh no, Potter. She'll be first."
"Mr. Malfoy," said Remus dangerously, "it would do you a great disservice to suddenly become expelled for such talk of death eaters. He's not coming home, Draco..."
At the last whispered words, the room was suddenly colder. Harry noticed a tremor in Malfoy's hands, as though this news was bringing physical pain upon him.
"Silence, you stupid werewolf," Malfoy snapped.
Remus could take the insults no longer. He got up from the bed and snarled in Malfoy's face, his lycanthropy eyes revealing the monster within. "Stupid werewolf, am I? You don't know anything of pain and sadness, you rich, pompous brat!"
Harry could see that Malfoy was terrified, and he stammered a reply. "M– My father w–will have you t– taken from the school."
"Your father doesn't know his own name! Hisillumination soul has been chained by the Dark Lord, barely a man with a pitch black heart that died when he became a death eater! And from the way you talk, I think you've become one too. I wouldn't doubt it for a moment. But I won't tell them, Draco. I won't tell any of them. I am still living under false hope that once the Dark Lord is destroyed you can be saved. But you're a Malfoy; it's nothing to be proud of. So shut your mouth and keep that sharp tongue of yours from forming any lies."
By now Malfoy was rigid with fear. Remus smiled widely, his eyes still luminous and pupils vertical and only slightly round. "That's a good boy. Now go to sleep." Malfoy cringed, pulling the covers up close to his face. Remus walked back to the bed, drawing the covers around Tamora and himself protectively. "Goodnight, Harry. It's safe for you to sleep now. He won't bother you." Harry passed the bed, seeing how Tamora clung to him, and now he saw the little frightened infant clutching her guardian's clothes. The images fit in his mind only for a moment, then he moved on to lay down. His weariness was bringing back sights he now longed to forget.
"Goodnight, Tamora," he whispered to no one. "Goodnight, Remus... Goodnight mother, father, Rosaline. Goodnight, Sirius. I'll see you all in the morning..." With that, he fell asleep, and hopefully his dreams proved more comforting than his reality.
A/N: Boo hoo. No reviews for chapter five. Oh well! I've become chronically inclined to write this day and night. But then again, I did take a while just to go in the pool...
But I'm on the outside
I'm lookin' in
I can see through you
See your true colors
'Cause inside you're ugly
You're ugly like me
I can see through you
See to the real you...
At this point, I am not sure if that song will have any relevance concerning this fic, but it might. You never know.