Without Question

By Tien Riu

tien_riu@yahoo.com

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters belong to J.K. Rowlings.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  WARNING: The future of this piece of fiction contains slash/yaoi/shonen ai/homosexual relationships. 

IMPORTANT: Chapter Twenty ('October the First – Morning') was rewritten and reposted last week.  You have to reread Chapter Twenty or certain things occuring in Chapter Twenty-One will not make sense. 

I apologise if you hate rereading previous chapters – however, if it's any concilliation, there is quite a bit more Harry/Draco moments in the rewritten Chapter Twenty.  Additionally, there's a Harry/Draco cookie ([Cookie Files]: It's a Magical Life) at the end of Chapter Twenty sponsored by Gryph and CalMnLa. 

Again – this chapter brought to you with much help from AsheFarley who has gone above and beyond what a beta needs to do.  Anything you like was at her instigation, everything else is my fault.  ^_^

TR

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Chapter Twenty-One: October the First - Afternoon

      It was habit that had Severus pause in the ante-chamber just outside Albus Dumbledore's office but paranoia made him listen with the concentration of one who had been saved many a time by such precautions.  He needn't have bothered – Sirius Black's voice carried clearly through the door.

    " - even Fudge won't be able to hide his head in the sand when the Continent starts gearing up for war."  Black was saying, "By this time next month, there will be more attention on Voldermort -"  Severus was almost impressed; Black had barely choked on the Dark Lord's name, " - than rats in a sewer."

   "The Arithmantic formulas correlate with our presuppositions."  Remus Lupin added, voice softer than Black, "The attacks should start sometime between Christmas and mid-February." 

There was a rustle of parchment before Albus Dumbledore spoke: "You seem concerned, Remus."

The long pause that followed was broken by Black's impatient: "Come on Moony - whatever it is, it can't be that bad!" 

   "I have little talent for Divinations."  Lupin finally said, "But I had hoped that perhaps in combination with Arithmancy there would be some useful effect -"  he broke off, then began again, "The results from the Arithmantic formulas seemed too conclusive.  Far too easy an answer."

   "Isn't that good?"  Black asked in confusion; Severus resisted the urge to groan in exasperation and continued eavesdropping.

   "I'm not the only Arithmantic student Hogwarts has produced, Sirius."  Lupin pointed out patiently, "The point, sir, is that each time I attempted a technique combined with Divinations, the result stated You-Know-Who would attack before the end of Novemeber."

There was silence - then a burst of derisive laughter.

   "Oh come on Moony - Divinations.  Honestly.  Remember when we predicted snow in July and still passed?"  Black exclaimed in exasperation.

   "I – but –"  Lupin paused, then said, voice now firm with certainty, "You're probably right." 

   "I have often found that pixies pollinating magical plants create many interesting and useful hybrids."  Albus Dumbledore interjected; there was a sudden silence, "However, the Lemon-Drop Tree Professor Sprout so kindly attempted to create last summer still has not flowered."  There was a pause as the two younger wizards regained their mental footing (Severus snorted mentally, fifteen years of almost daily contact with the Headmaster had given him some immunity to the innanity Albus Dumbledore could sometimes spout), then: "Narcissa Malfoy stated that the winter Solstice would mark the end of any opportunity Severus might have to save Draco Malfoy." 

   "Highly suspicious."  Black grunted, "A Malfoy - giving out information for free."

   "But not improbable - a mother's love after all, has achieved wondrous things before."  Albus noted, "However - we cannot base the safety of our future on speculation.  Be it derived from Arithmantic formulas or Divination techniques."  Another pause filled with the rustle of parchment and Fawkes' squawks, "Nor, as much as our esteemed Minister of Magic would wish, the safety of those beyond the walls and wards of Hogwarts."  He paused, then: "Severus."

    The door swung open - giving Severus no more than a brief moment to draw his robes and composure around him before he stalked into the room.

   "Still hiding behind doors and sticking your large nose into other people's business, Snape?"  Sirius Black turned in his chair, "Never change do you?"  he sneered.

Severus ignored him - as he did the proffered confectionery - and took the chair that scuttled forward and scooted into place before the large table serving as the Headmaster's desk.  His seat, Severus noted, was next to Remus Lupin rather than Sirius Black.  It would seem that even Albus' optimism that all beings could peacefully co-exist had been exhausted when it came to Severus Snape and Sirius Black's long standing dislike (Virulent hatred.) for each other.

   "Sirius."  Remus Lupin hissed quietly, before adding politely: "Severus."

   "Lupin.  Headmaster."  Severus nodded, and glared as he added tightly: "Black."  Severus ignored the soft sigh that escaped Remus Lupin.

    "Now why did I call you here, Severus?"  Albus asked thoughtfully, "Ah yes - the request for Remus.  I am getting forgetful these days aren't I?"  he smiled, beard bobbing slightly as eyes twinkled from beneath gold rimmed glasses, "Something about earrings and Wards wasn't it?"

Sirius Black laughed, "So desperate for feminine company you're dressing up like one, Snape?"

    Severus gritted his teeth. 

    Despite the fact that he was well into his third decade -

    Despite the fact that he was a man grown -

    Despite the fact that playing one-man-up was a tiresome, immature act expected only from Gryffindors -

    Despite every curse, hex and Unforgivable he knew, there was something to be said for jumping onto Black and pummelling till somebody dragged him off. 

    Remus Lupin coughed, inadvertently (or perhaps not) breaking the angry tension between the two wizards he was seated between, "Sirius."    

   "Yes mutt - heel."  Severus muttered.

Black jerked forward from his chair and came up short against Lupin's arm.

   "Severus.  Please."  Remus Lupin said, voice even and patient, "You asked me to Hogwarts for a reason.  Given the – circumstances it had to be of some importance.  Surely that takes precedence?"

Severus gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the smirk on Sirius Black's face, "Lupin - your field of study after Hogwarts included Wards."

Remus nodded in understanding (Severus had always acknowledged that for a Gryffindor, Remus Lupin was unusually bright), "You want me to study the -"  he paused, "The report mentioned an earring - you wish me to study the earring Narcissa Malfoy left for her son?" 

   "Yes."  Severus said shortly, glancing to the Headmaster, "Albus -I would prefer any study on the earring to take place beneath the personal shields in my chambers.  The discussion should not be held where it could be easily - overheard."  he shot a condescending glare towards Black (Not to mention in a place where a Dark Arts created item won't light up a beacon for every Death Eater and his bloody flute to come investigate.) before adding, "Perhaps you might mention the - alternate plans with the mutt?"

Black growled and Lupin muttered something that sounded remarkably like 'children'.

Albus waved a hand, "Of course.  Of course.  Indeed, it is a fortuitous happenstance.  I would like the opportunity to speak privately with Sirius about Harry."  He paused, and patted down his robes, "Now where did I leave those notes?" 

Sirius frowned, standing up in alarm, "What's happened to Harry?"

Albus, now rummaging through his desk, glanced up with a slight smile, "Nothing to be overly worried on, Sirius.  However, I believe you should see Professor Flitwick's report for yourself - now wherever did I put it?"  the Headmaster paused, frowning, "Oh dear.  I am afraid I left them by my bedside table.  I shall be back in a moment."  With that the Headmaster swept out of the office through a side door that led to his private quarters.

    A silence descended upon the office; Remus Lupin - on realising he was currently seated between two glaring wizards – sighed, rubbed his eyes and muttered something that sounded vaguely like: "Hephaistos grant me patience -"  before standing and flinging a handful of floo powder into the waiting fireplace, "Severus.  If you would do the honours?" 

Severus glared at Black one last time, then snapped out: "Severus Snape's chambers." 

The flames turned green and Lupin gratefully stepped through.  Severus flung a handful of powder into the fire to maintain the connection and made to follow after the werewolf.  At which stage Sirius Black grabbed him by the collar of his robes, effectively yanking him backwards.

    "Touch me again and Order or not, I will personally ensure you spend the rest of your meaningless life singing soprano, Black."  Severus growled, hand clenched around his wand as he struggled to free himself from the grip.

Twelve years in Azkaban might have diminished Sirius Black's ability with a wand - but it had not weakened his strength.  Severus found it particularly galling to realise he was still physically weaker than Sirius Black at thirty-five.  (Evidently, teaching hormone-ridden teenagers is not comparable to chewing fleas in Azkaban.)

    "I don't care what favours Remus owes you for the Wolfsbane Potion, Snape,"  Black said, breath ruffling Severus' hair where it met his high collar, "Touch one hair on his head and I swear I will -" 

   "Gentlemen."  Albus coughed politely, "Is there a problem?"

Sirius dropped Severus back down onto the ground - face flushing red (though from embarrassment of getting caught or anger at being stopped was something Severus did not bother analysing).

   "Severus?"  Albus asked.

Severus shot a smug smile at Black - no matter the past and certain events three years ago, Albus Dumbledore took his word now as equal to the once-favoured Gryffindor.  (Turn about is indeed, fair - vengeance.)

   "Fine, Headmaster."  He said, then, glancing back at Black, added in a low hiss: "Entertaining as I find your pathetic posturings, I have more important things to do than pander to your – astounding – wit."  Then, as Black's expression darkened, he added snidely: "In other words, Black - mark your -"  a disdainful lift of his head, " - territory in your own time."  With that, the Potions master walked into the fireplace - leaving a fuming Sirius Black and a bemused (and exasperated) Headmaster.

*

      Harry was met with silence as he walked into the Great Hall for lunch.  Uneasily, he slid into the empty seat opposite Hermione.  The Weasley twins were staring at him – something that did not bode well for continued wholeness of body (unless one's body happened to be canary-shaped). 

    Hermione was glaring down the table where Dean and Seamus were whispering frantically – and past them where Lavender and Parvati were giggling again.  (They seemed to do that a lot.)  Harry helped himself to one of the sandwiches stacked on the platters before him and wondered if anybody would notice if he dug out the books from the library.  He tuned out the other students as best he could and started to eat.  Maybe if I hurry I can slip out and get back to the library without anybody noticing -

    "Harry!"  Harry flinched as Ron slid into the seat next to his and slung an arm around his shoulder, "I don't know what you did but - mate! It was bloody brilliant whatever it was!" 

    "Don't swear, Ron!"  Hermione reproved while Harry stared, wide eyed at Ron - who had still been refusing to talk to Harry as of five minutes ago during Transfigurations.

    "Three cheers for Harry Potter!"  Seamus Finnigan called and the table echoed with yells and excited shouts - drawing the attention of the rest of the Great Hall.

   "Bloody brilliant!"  Ron repeated with a grin, "Had us worried for a while, Harry - shouldn't have doubted you for a moment though."

   "Ronald Weasley - what are you talking about?"  Hermione snapped as Harry remained silent.

   "The twins couldn't believe it themselves -"  Ron stopped as he caught Hermione's impatient stare, "What – Harry didn't tell you?"  he glanced at Harry, "You didn't tell her?"

   "Tell her what?"  twin voices chorused behind Harry – who groaned inwardly as he turned.

The Weasley twins were grinning down at him (When did they move?).

   "About the Slytherin team."  Ron said, "I can't believe Harry didn't tell you Hermione."  He glared suspiciously at Harry.

   "I would have!"  Harry protested, then paused, shaking his head, "Except I don't know either.  What's going on?"

There was a pause then –

   "Draco Malfoy –"  Ron began.

   "Anthony Vert – the Slytherin Captain –"  that was Fred (or George).

   " – opened trials for a new Slytherin Seeker –"  which would make it George who spoke next (or Fred, given the alternative).

   " – got taken off the Slytherin team by Snape –"  Ron again

   " – because Malfoy –"

   "Stop it all of you!"  Hermione snapped; there was a sudden silence, "Honestly.  What do you do? Practise talking in tandem during the holidays?"  she said almost to herself before directing a determined glare at one of the twins, "George Weasley – tell us what happened."

   "Draco Malfoy's been kicked off the Slytherin Quidditch Team."  The twin in question drawled, "And I'm Fred not George."

Hermione shrugged, tossing her head irritatedly, "If the two of you are going to dress in identical robes, with identical hair styles, and not only go around together all the time but talk as if you were one person instead of two – then expect to be mistaken for the same person."  She snapped. 

Ron chortled, "She's got a point there -"  he said and caught the bread roll George (or maybe it was Fred) threw before it could hit him in the face.

   "Our own brother –"  Fred began only to pause, "Ah another time.  Anyway – the rumours are that Snape pulled Malfoy off the team himself for burning five Firebolts." 

("Can you imagine it? Five Firebolts – destroyed just like that -!"  Ron exclaimed; the boys all shuddered at the thought)

   "What did he do? Take out his wand and cast 'incendio'?"  Hermione demanded, frowning, "Use a match? A lighter? Muggle devices."  The last when she caught sight of the confused expression on the Weasleys' faces.

George paused, "Well – no, from what Terry Bones – the Ravenclaws were next on the pitch this morning – said, the brooms just burst into flames.  Awfully bad luck since three of the brooms -"

   " - were still being used."  Fred finished, and turned his gaze to Harry, "We have the pitch tomorrow at five.  We'll expect you there."  He said; there was a sudden silence on the Gryffindor table, "Well Harry?" 

    Yes.

    It felt as if every student in the Great Hall was watching him.

    Yes - it was on the tip of his tongue.  Yes.  Yes.

    Beyond the Gryffindor table he could see a a sea of black robes abbreviated by yellow bands. 

    "Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have to train new seekers."  Harry muttered, standing abruptly, "Gryffindor can as well."  He pushed past the Weasley twins to leave the Great Hall, appetite well and truly dead.

"I just don't get it."  Ron muttered, "How can he not want to play Quidditch?"

Hermione stared, exasperated at Ron, "Sometimes I think I'm surrounded by idiots.  Then I realise no, I'm not – I'm surrounded by adolescent males."  She said (Lavender and Parvati, further down the table, burst into laughter and shouted: "Here, here!"), "Don't you get it?"

   "Get what?"  Ron demanded.

   "Harry didn't give up Quidditch because he doesn't want to play –"  she paused to glare Ron into silence, " – he gave up being Seeker because of –"  Hermione glanced around then lowered her voice, "Because of Cedric Diggory.  Hufflepuff doesn't have a seeker because Cedric Diggory is dead – and Harry still feels guilty."

Ron frowned, "Oh."  He said finally, a breath of air echoed by George.

Fred however, continued frowning, "Diggory would have graduated the end of last year.  Hufflepuff would have had to replace him anyway.  They're probably more prepared to replace their Seeker than any of us are." 

Hermione sighed and let her head drop to the table with a muttered: "Boys."

   "No really – I don't get it."  Fred protested, "Why would Harry feel guilty for Cedric Diggory and Hufflepuff having to replace their Seeker this year? Ow! Hey why'd you hit me for?"  this last directed to his twin who had smacked him up top the head, "That bloody well hurt you bastard -"

   "You're an idiot Fred."  George said, rolling his eyes, and with one hand, dragged his twin brother away, talking in a low voice as he did.

    "Hey Hermione -?"  Ron asked quietly.

   "What?"  Hermione asked, not moving from where she was still resting her head on the table.

   "I know why Harry's guilty about Cedric Diggory dying – but I don't quite get what that had to do with quitting Quidditch."  Ron whispered.

There was a pause, "Oh – for goodness sake."  But the normal exasperated bite was missing from the oft' used phrase, "Equal footing Ron."

   "Equal footing?"

   "This way, all the teams are just as likely to win given the experience of their Seekers." 

There was a pause, then, "But experience has nothing to do with a good Seeker.  It's all about speed and luck." 

Hermione merely sighed and didn't move.

    There was another pause then: "Hermione?"

   "What is it Ron?"

   "You going to sit up? Only – people are staring at you." 

*

      Across the Great Hall, unseen by the other students who were all watching the Entertainment (provided, as per usual, by the Gryffindors), Pansy Parkinson glanced nervously to several sixth year Slytherins then shifted closer to Gregory Goyle.

   "All right, Pansy?"  Gregory rumbled quietly as he dug into his lunch (haggis). 

   "I - can we go somewhere quiet, Greg?"  Pansy whispered into Gregory's ear, "I - need to tell you something." 

Gregory paused, fork in mouth as he looked at her, eyes narrowed thoughtfully beneath the thick line of his eyebrows, "What about?"  he finally asked after he had swallowed.

   "Something I found - yesterday.  During detention."  Pansy whispered, she shot another glance up the table.

Most of the Slytherins at lunch were watching the Gryffindor table – except that is for Blaise Zabini who was staring down at his plate as if it held all known answers to questions asked in Professor McGonagall's latest test.

   "Okay."  Gregory finally rumbled, finishing the last of his lunch and gulping down a goblet of pumpkin juice quickly.

   "Oh - that's just disgusting."  Pansy muttered, "Merlin, Greg - at least wipe your mouth."  She added, making a face.

    They left the Great Hall together, never noticing that both Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape were watching them from the head table.

*

Hermione appeared in the Gryffindor Common Room four hours prior to entering it.  It was empty - classes had yet to break for lunch, after all. 

    If I didn't loathe time turners so much I'd hate them.  She thought tiredly; almost unconsciously, her hands tightened on the book she was holding.  She glanced at the worn covers and felt the exhaustion ebb.  This is it. 

    Everything will make sense today – I just know it.

    Fingers stained with ink gently traced the faded gold lettering, 'The Big Book of Old Fairy Tales'.  .  . 

    She rubbed fiercely at her eyes (The smoke from the fireplace.  She assured herself) and threw the floo powder at the flames with more force than necessary.

      Hermione stepped out of the fireplace with neither fanfare nor warning.  It was, after all a full month into the school year and she had been walking out of this particular fireplace every single day of that month. 

    Well, three weeks, four days of the month.  .  .  Oh god Ron is right; I'm becoming pedantic.  Or at least he might have said had he been speaking to her of more things than candy, classes and Quidditch.  Or knew what 'pedantic' meant.  Hermione added as she pulled out the book she wanted and dropped her bag in the shadows by the fireplace.

    It wasn't that she didn't like talking to Ron (even if it was just about candy, classes, Quidditch and on occasion his obsession with Professor Kettleburn), it was that - just once - she wished that - Oh why not go right out and say it? I'm just like Parvati and Lavender.  Wanting meaningful conversations and confidences from a boy.  As if that's possible till they start thinking without their - broomsticks.

    Sometimes Hermione wondered if she would find out about Harry defeating Voldemort when Ron was telling the story in the common room.  It's always 'boy stuff' to them.  They never tell me anything important - not until I make them.  Some friends.  

    Oh great.  And here comes the tears. 

    Hermione swiped at her eyes irritatedly - she really hated this time of the month.  (Regular as clockwork, Mum said.  Be glad, Mum said.  Can plan around it, Mum said.  Why I can't be like Lavender and Parvati - they're so irregular they get one or two during the year and I bet they don't have thirty-hour days!)

    It was at this point that the mist of self-indulgent melancholy hovering over Hermione's mind was disrupted by the realisation that she was standing on the flagstones before Professor Snape's fireplace. 

    There was a cough, and on looking up, she found herself staring at not only Professor Snape but also Professor Lupin. 

    "Are you all right, Miss Granger?"  Remus Lupin asked quietly from where he was standing at the large table Hermione and Severus had been using as a base for their research, "You seem a trifle -"  he paused, choosing his words with care, "Over-wrought."

*

    It was half an hour after classes had ended for the day and Ron Weasley was stalking Professor Kensington Kettleburn. 

    Or, to be more precise, Ron was seated in a (conveniently) concealed alcove several metres from the entrance of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, listening with a well cast 'eavesdropping' charm he had found in Hermione's textbooks.  (And she says I never study.)

    Kensington Kettleburn was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher - and a more unassuming, quiet and mild professor had yet to teach at Hogwarts.  The past month of Defence classes had mostly involved the students being told to take notes from their textbooks in preparation for the fortnightly quizzes.  For the most part, Kettleburn spent classes seated at his desk seemingly meditating (or sleeping - Ron hadn't ever been able to tell which).  He seemed to get headaches quite a bit as well - or at least did so in most of the morning classes.

    All very dubious behaviour as far as Ron was concerned (though in all honesty he had to admit that Professor Kettleburn being a Defence teacher was reason enough for suspicion).  Which was why he was currently sitting outside the classroom (and the Professor's office) attempting to hear what devious plot You-Know-Who's spy intended for Hogwarts that year.

    What he did eventually hear (after another half hour had passed and he had fallen into a doze) was several loud explosions, a couple of thumps - some oaths that would have made Hagrid blush - then: "Bugger it for a bottle of pixies and a harpoon."

    And finally, silence.  Wonder what happened in there.  It hadn't seemed particularly - Well - dangerous. 

    Ron frowned, staring fixedly at the door of the Defence classroom and wondering if Hermione knew any spells that might help somebody see through walls.  And after I find out what Kettleburn's doing, maybe I could use it on the girls' - he cut off the thought rapidly, going bright red.  (Oh she's going to kill me if she ever figures out what I'm thinking.)

   "Hey look - it's 'ickle Ronniekins!"  a voice boomed suddenly in his ear.

Ron jumped, fell out of the alcove and would have dashed his head on the stone floor had both his brothers not hastily grabbed the back of his robes and hauled him upright.

   "We've been looking everywhere for you Ron!"  a nearly identical voice boomed.

Ron winced (at which point he realised that the eavesdropping charm was still in place and chanted a hasty: "Finite incantatum.") and rubbed his ears as he glared at his twin older brothers, "What do you two want?"

Fred grinned, "What us? Want anything?"

   "Perish the thought!"  George declared; Ron stared with growing apprehension at his brothers (I'm not getting out of this without getting turned into a canary am I?).

   "Oh wait -"  Fred began.

   " - we do want something!"  George said, "Wouldn't want a biscuit would you?"  he dug some crumbling baked goods from his pockets; Ron shook his head and tried to back away.

   "I like that - I really do."  Fred said, shaking his head, "Our own little brother - not trusting us -"

Ron struggled against the hands holding him, found he couldn't budge and sighed (So much for saving the world today.), "Fine - fine.  Just tell me what I'll turn into before I eat it okay?"  Ron said.

   "Oh - we don't want you to -"  Fred began.

   "- eat anything."  George finished, "Well not really."

   "It's about the Quidditch team -"  Fred went on, then glanced at George when he didn't cut in.

   "Thought you'd be the best one to tell him - being Captain and all."  George said, shrugging.

   "I - did I get Keeper?"  Ron asked nervously - the trials for Keeper had been intense and the only other contender for Keeper had saved only twelve goals less than Ron.

The new team list would be put onto the Gryffindor Common Room notice board after dinner but Ron knew that Fred had finished up last night because George had been planning pranks with Lee Jordan.  Being the younger Weasley brother has to be good for something right? Ron thought as he stared anxiously at his older brothers.

   "Congratulations."  George grinned.

Ron stared in shock, "Really?"

   "Really."  George said, ruffling Ron's hair (he had to reach up as Ron was now taller than him), "Ickle Ronniekins is all grown up."  He added; Ron made a face.

   "Just as soon as Harry stops being insane."  Fred added.

   "What?"  Ron blinked, surprised enough not to attempt to correct the mess George had made of his hair.

   "We need you to play Seeker in Harry's place."  George said.

   "Hey!"  Fred protested, "I was supposed to tell him." 

   "You took too long."  George shrugged, "So how about it, Ron?"

Ron blinked, "What?"

   "Being Seeker for Gryffindor -"  George said.

   "- since the second-string Keeper is almost as good as you."  Fred broke in (Ron winced).

   "But there's nobody who can fly Seeker – "  George added.

   "Except Harry Potter – the bastard."  Fred muttered.

Without looking, George smacked the back of Fred's head ("Ow! Hey – what was that for –"), " - better than you at the moment."

Ron stared, thoughts of Professor Kettleburn completely thrown out of his mind, "Me? Fly Seeker?"  he said finally, "Like Charlie?"

The twins nodded in unison.

   "Well without the crash landing in the bathroom while Sara Lockhart was getting changed."  Fred added with a grin, "Not that we'd stop you – but Hermione sounds like she wouldn't accept loosing control of your broomstick as an excuse –"

George smacked Fred again ("Ow! Stop that!"), "Honestly – can't take you anywhere these days."  He said before adding with a broad smile, "Besides, if Ron really wanted to see Hermione starkers he'd be better off casting a no-stone hex –"

(No-stone hex – never thought of that -! Argh!) Ron knew he was turning bright red and hastily (before the twins could notice and possibly start teasing him about it – or worse, tell Hermione) ducked his head.

   "Which reminds me - we've got to get Lee back for turning Katie's hair pink -"  Fred began. 

   " - before we could."  George finished.

Fred, almost serious, added, as the two were about to walk down the corridor: "Practise starts at seven tomorrow morning but you turn up at six.  There's only another two weeks before the first match –"

As they walked away, George groaned: "You're getting as bad as Wood -! My own twin – possessed by the Quidditch tyrant –"

   "Oh shut up –"  Fred smacked George – who ducked.

Squabbling with the ease of years of practise, the twins wandered down the corridor, leaving their younger brother standing alone.

    It was several seconds later that Ron realised he had forgotten something very important.

   "Oh shit.  Even if they let me borrow one of their Cleansweeps –"  the youngest Weasley son moaned, "I'm going to be the slowest Seeker this side of the Channel – that's what the headlines are going to say -"

    Professor Kensington Kettleburn, on walking out of his office some minutes later, was surprised to discover a student morosely sitting on the floor in the corridor outside his door muttering something about sweeping.   

   "Don't worry lad,"  he proclaimed, awkwardly patting the boy (a fifth year - probably a Weasley judging by the sheer amount of red on him) on the head, "The House Elves sweep the corridors very regularly."  And satisfied that he had done his job, walked on down the corridor (albeit a trifle off-balanced with a tendency to walk as if the floor was made of water).

    Ron stared after the Defence teacher.  Where does Dumbledore keep finding them?

*

      The conversation Hermione was barely paying any attention to had been going on for over three hours.  An example of the general tone went thus:

"Please pass me the extract of duck.  The wards on this are definitely blood based."  A pause as Professor Lupin took several notes before tapping his wand once more on the earring (this followed by a flash of light and a vast chattering noise).

Professor Snape snapped irritatedly in what passed as a response: "I had already worked that out you misbegotten cur! Have you nothing to say resembling some semblance of use?"

Followed by silence, then a calm: "The extract of duck?"

Hermione was fast gaining the opinion that Professor Lupin was slightly too placid and mild-mannered.  I just can't imagine him as part of the infamous Marauders Ron's brothers prattle on about.  Obviously people change and mature as they grow older (Or I'm going to have do something to Ron -!) but surely not that much.

    Hermione sighed as she turned the page and continued taking notes.  She didn't understand anything the two professors were saying - and hadn't since they started.  Frankly she didn't really care.  Perhaps last year she might have found time to do extra research in an effort to understand Wards (which sounded both advanced and arcane) but - Thirty hour days are more than enough.  Hermione thought firmly as she glanced at the page before her and jotted the last of her notes onto the scroll.

   "Finished."  She announced, drying the ink with a wave of her wand, "Professor -"

    And stopped when she realised that Professor Snape was hovering right behind her.  Long, thin fingers picked up 'The Big Book of Old Fairy Tales' so quickly that Hermione had to duck to avoid being poked in the eye by a ragged corner. 

   "Lupin."  Severus said, "Does this look familiar to you?"  he dumped the book (still open) into Remus' hands and stalked to one of the bookshelves (now seriously denuded by weeks of research) lining the room.

Hermione frowned - the cover illustration of the story was pretty but surely not particularly significant.

   "Evidently, when working with Gryffindors,"  Severus Snape said derisively, "Even simple sentences task mental prowess."  He rolled his eyes and sneered as he added in a mockingly patient tone: "Does the illustration seem familiar, Lupin?" 

The potions professor had retrieved a book from the bookshelf; it was, Hermione noted, brightly coloured with a dancing chicken on the cover. 

    Severus opened the book and handed it to Hermione - a move echoed by Professor Lupin as he placed 'The Big Book of Old Fairy Tales' down before her.

   "It is - strange."  Remus said to Severus.

Severus snorted, "How useful an analysis."

    At which point the conversation devolved once more into insults and technical terms completely lost on Hermione.  She turned her attention instead to the open books before her. 

    There were of course differences – if the image were actually identical then it would have been a matter of plagerism – but they were minute.  From the picture alone, it would seem that both books were retelling the same story. 

    She stared at 'The Big Book of Old Fairy Tales'.  The battered edges bore the marks of chubby, childish hands, there were folded corners and the colours were faded from years of exposure to sunlight.  It seemed out of place here, surrounded by dusty tomes on magical creatures, spells, rites, chants and other arcane knowledge (though not, she noted, as out of place as a book decorated with dancing chickens).  There was nothing in this stalwart reminder of her childhood that she did not know by heart.  So – the answer is in Professor Snape's – chicken book.

    Slowly, Hermione flipped the pages (the chickens were an ongoing motive, she noticed), scanning the lines (it was a children's book - later she would wonder why it had been amongst Professor Snape's collection). 

    This - this is a completely different story. 

    What does this all mean? The essay she had written in first year had been on the legend that Godric Gryffindor had transformed into a dragon during a fight with Salazar Slytherin.  Hermione had thought it was a metaphor (the Gryffindor founder had not been an animagus, his biography stated it very clearly) on Gryffindor's prowess in battle.  Or even how Godric Gryffindor stood for and valued the traits of nobility, honour and bravery - all symbols often associated with dragons.  After tracing the origins of the quotation most often associated with the story, she had been sure it was a modified version of an older legend.  She had also assumed – perhaps too hastily – that the legend was now only found in the muggle world.  Professor Snape's 'chicken book' (as the part of her she blamed on Ron, had already labelled it) wasn't another version of the story - despite the similar illustrations.  It's - a rite of some sort.  Not even a proper fairy tale. 

    "It's a description of a rite."  Hermione hadn't even noticed she said the words outloud till she realised both the professors had ceased their conversation and turned back to her.

    "The Rite of the Dragon."  Severus corrected - as mildly as Hermione had ever known him to be.  

   "Is it what happened to Draco Malfoy?"  Hermione asked as she picked up the 'chicken book' and pointed to the central figure (a man with a small dragon bursting forth from his chest).

It would make a very strange sort of sense if Draco Malfoy had gained the ability of fire because somebody had put a small dragon inside of him.  

   "The Rite of the Dragon is a creation-myth. Describing the conception of the first dragons to be precise."  Professor Lupin explained quietly, "It has long been considered completely implausible."

   "Suffice to state, Miss Granger, that the theory of magic not only does not support the Rite's existence, it disproves it."  Severus said curtly. 

   "Oh."  Hermione said softly, "So - this is another -"  she paused, fighting the urge of cry, " - dead end."  (I will not be one of those girls who cries at the drop of a hat.  I won't!)

   "Succinctly put - for once - Granger."  Severus snapped.

Hermione drew in a deep breath.  Hermione Granger - if you cry and act like a - a - a Barbie-totting, My Little Pony playing girl - I will never talk to you again! She swore to herself quietly, Now.  Assume that this is a significant revelation.  Where is the link that changes data into information?

   "Perhaps it is merely a coincidence?"  Remus was saying, "It is, after all, just an illustration."

    "I'm shocked - a statement from the werewolf that is of actual use."  Severus muttered; Remus ignored the snarky comment.

    It was at this point that Hermione looked up.  And then the fifth year Order student smiled.

    " - 'and yet evidence disproves your astounding logical train of thought'."  Hermione quoted, "Your earring, Professor Lupin."

    The two professors turned; the earring was glowing.

    Remus Lupin frowned, then, cupping the earring in his hand, tapped it with his wand.  There was a rush of noise: an incomprehensible sound resembling a thousand voices whispering very fast and very softly.  This time, it was followed by the appearance of symbols - slowly drawing themselves into the air around the earring.  The lines shone with colours: blue, silver, green - and (most disturbingly) blood red. 

    There was a pause then: "I believe it is time we contacted Narcissa Malfoy."  Remus said, staring at the symbols, "These are - unusual."

   "To correct your evident misconception Lupin, the habit of understating the obvious - "  Severus bit out into the silence, " - is neither endearing nor engendering of confidence." 

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Author's Note:

Firstly – unashamed promotion:

I highly recomment MissMoppet's "Faster Mudblood! Kill! Kill!" (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=870133).  Go.  Read.  You won't regret it.  (And as added insentive – it's Harry/Draco slash.  Complete with cowboyhat!Harry and in-a-strip-club!Draco)

Secondly - I needed a diversion while I waited for the beta reading of "Without Question" to be finished.  "Crossing Bridges" (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1195394) is a time turner story set in the days of the Marauders.  Working against the cliché, rather than Hermione (everybody's favourite bookworm and time-traveller) it's Remus Lupin who is sent back to the past on a desperate mission to destroy Voldemort.  The catch: Remus has to inhabit the body of his eleven year old past self.  Well – yes, whoever heard of a pre-pubescent assassin? A future slash story (just as soon as they hit an age that isn't so – young) set in an alternate universe.  My first (and only) expedition into the Marauders timeline.

Well – since nobody mentioned if they prefered a response to reviews or not appended at the end of a chapter, I'll continue (especially as I consider it impolite not to acknowledge reviews). 

switchknife: 0_0 Or else what? (sorry, always wanted to say that ^_^)

barbara thatcher/bthatcher: glad you enjoyed the rewritten Chapter Twenty.  Thanks for the review.  ^_^

tnf: Narcissa appears in Chapter Twenty-Two (as I'm sure you've realised by now).  Do note - the chapter numbering accorded by FF.net is off by two numbers (prologue and that author's note I inserted). 

~grins~ I believe the plural of 'genius' is 'geniuses' - though some part of me insists it's 'genii' (which is completely wrong, 'genii' is the plural of 'genie' ^_^).

In the meantime, I'm glad you liked Blaise Zabini - every time I write Slytherins I find myself forced to view the world in a completely different way.  Fandom parodies normally make fun of the fact that writers occasionally insist that there are only four or five students per year level in some houses (at least according to the names listed in the books).  However, given that the years surrounding Harry's birth (1976 - 1982) would have placed those children (babies) and their parents in the absolute height of the first Voldemort War, I've always found it highly probable that there really could be as little as ten students per year level, per house. 

Given that sort of start, and the fact that many witches and wizards seem to have believed that Voldemort was not truly gone, my assumption has always been that growing up Slytherin - whether in a Death Eater family or not - would have been very much like growing up in a war zone.  The Slytherin students have reasons for being cynical, suspicious and wary. 

AsheFarley: thought I should answer this here rather than in a mail.  ^_^ Yes, everything is coming together (wait till you see Chapter Twenty-Two and Twenty-Three ~grins~).  I wouldn't call it 'epic' however.  Not unless it runs into sixty chapters like Anna's "Roman Holiday" (http://witchfics.org/anna).  And - I doubt anybody would use a yahoolist run soley by me...  It would be unmentionably fantastic to have my own - but I won't get one unless there's a sudden surge in requests (well, more than one anyway ^_^).

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A/N: Review? Please? If only to point out plot holes? Or out-of-characterisation? Or if not tell me how much you loved it (this last because Sildtsr told me to stop asking for 'it sucks' messages ^_^)

- note, edited 24th January, 2003 for slight formatting errors.