"Excuse me," said a voice as Harry stepped out of the Great Hall after dinner. "Do you have a moment?"
"Sure." Harry waved for Ron to go on upstairs without him, then turned back to face Hermione Granger once more. "Something wrong?"
"No. Not at all. I just…" Hermione twisted a bit of her robes between her hands. "I wanted to apologize, first off," she said in a rush. "I was terribly rude to you the other day, on the way back from Herbology."
Harry shook his head. "You weren't rude," he said. "You just told me something I didn't know."
"Yes, but I still could have said it more politely." Hermione looked down at the floor. "But what I really wanted to say, or ask…I don't suppose, I mean, you probably wouldn't want to…" She swallowed. "I'm part of a book club, looking at the different ways Muggles think about magic, and they've asked us to bring a friend to the next meeting if we can," she said rapidly. "And I saw The Phoenix and the Carpet in your bag the other day, and that's what we're going to be reading this month, so I thought maybe—you don't have to, not if you don't want to, I just thought I would ask—"
"Yes."
"Fine, that's just fine, I didn't—what?"
"Yes. I'll come." Harry kept his grin at the shocked look on Hermione's face strictly internal. "It sounds like fun. When is it? And where?"
"It's Tuesdays. Tuesday evenings. Seven o'clock." Hermione's eyes were almost glowing. "I can show you where the clubroom is if you meet me at the library."
"I'll be there." Harry tossed her a little salute and turned to go up the stairs.
He thought he heard her whisper, "Thank you," as he climbed, but by the time he looked back, she was gone.
XxXxX
"Mom? Do you have a minute?"
"For you, love, always." Gigi Reynolds beckoned her daughter inside the door of the quarters she shared with her husband. "What's on your mind? It looks like something good, whatever it is."
"It is. Very good." Jean twisted her hands together. "Only I'm not sure if I can tell you about it, because it happened in the dreams. And I don't know what's safe to say about the dreams and what's not."
"How can I put this?" Gigi tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully as she closed the door. "You should still take basic precautions, but it's safer for you to discuss your life in the gray world than it is for some people. One in particular." She traced a jagged line on her forehead. "Since he has a connection to someone who is unscrupulous, badly disposed towards him, and quite powerfully magical. Not to mention, that person's current state of being makes him more able to access the ways between the worlds than many. Do you understand?"
"I think so." Jeanie nodded. "Does Henry know that?"
"If he doesn't, he will soon." Gigi smiled. "So, with that in mind, what's your good news?"
"My alter ego finally found a way she can think about Dad. Or his alter ego, I mean. Professor Lupin." Jean let her eyes rest lovingly on a battered book of poetry which lay on a bookshelf near the back of the room. "He can be almost like a godfather to her. Someone who can take care of her in the magical world, where her own parents can't go, and answer all the questions they don't know any more about than she does. And it's wonderful to have that resolved, so she doesn't feel nervous around him all the time, but why, why didn't either of us ever think of this before?"
"Tell me this, love." Gigi seated herself on one of the tall stools which sat next to the built-in counter in the room's kitchenette. "If you planted an acorn yesterday, or last week, or last year, could you go out today and climb to the top of that oak tree?"
"No, of course not." Jean frowned, as though confused by her mother's words. "It takes much longer than that for a tree to grow big and strong enough that I could climb it."
"And would you say that a thought is less complicated than a tree?"
Jean shook her head. "Not at all. Thoughts are the most complicated things there are. But I don't…" She trailed off, and treated her mother to a withering glare.
Gigi only chuckled. "That would work better if it wasn't me you learned it from," she murmured, and blew a kiss to her sister-daughter. "I'm glad to hear your alter ego is finding her way, my Jeanie. But then, I was sure she would. She's just as clever as you are, after all."
"Yes, but she's also found out something I don't like one bit." Jean came across the room to embrace Gigi. "Her mother says no one like you exists in the gray world. Is that really true?"
"I exist here and now, with you." Gigi laid a kiss on the bushy brown hair. "For today, shall we let that be enough?"
"For today, I suppose it'll do." Jean angled a dubious glance upwards. "But someday I'm going to figure out the right questions to ask you, and get some real answers about all this."
"I look forward to it." Gigi tightened her hug once. "Now, shall we go have breakfast?"
XxXxX
Labeling a diagram of the inside of a flower, Harry kept a weather eye on the portrait hole which led out of the Gryffindor common room. If his information was correct, in just a few moments—
"Do excuse me, I need to be going," said a brisk voice, and Percy Weasley nodded to the two girls with whom he'd been conversing and climbed out through the hole, the Fat Lady's portrait swinging shut once he'd descended into the hallway on the other side. After counting to ten, then once more backwards for good measure, Harry shook his quill dry, capped his inkwell, and set down the diagram as Ron shut his Potions book. Together, they got up and crossed the common room to the dimly lit corner where Fred and George had their red heads bent over a large, somewhat battered piece of parchment.
"What's that?" asked Ron as they got close enough to see that the parchment was filled with green lines and moving dots of ink.
Fred jumped and tapped his wand swiftly against the center of the parchment, muttering something under his breath. "Nothing," he said aloud as the markings faded, leaving a blank expanse behind. "Nothing you need to be concerned about, at any rate."
"What can we do for our ickle Ronniekins this evening?" inquired George, leaning back with his hands laced behind his head.
Ron grimaced, but didn't object out loud. "I need your help," he said, sitting down in the third chair which surrounded the small, round table over which Fred and George had been bending. "It's Scabbers. He's missing."
"Lost our dear brother's rat already, have you?" Fred clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Careless, Ronniekins. Very careless."
"And you'd like us to help find him?" George looked from Ron to Harry. "We might be able to assist. For a price."
"A price? Like what?" Ron shook his head in confusion. "What do I have that you'd want?"
"It's not so much what you have, as what you can do." Fred shaped a door in midair with his hands. "We want to know what's inside that forbidden corridor on the third floor."
"But Filch knows we want to know, so he's keeping a close eye on us."
"Mrs. Norris is helping, of course. And we think she's got some of the other Hogwarts cats on her side."
"You, on the other hand, are young and innocent." George paused, looking Ron up and down. "As much as our brother could ever be."
"Filch has no reason to suspect you, other than that." Fred sat back in his chair. "So if you want our help with finding Scabbers…"
"Tell us what's inside the third-floor corridor," George finished. "That's the price."
"You want me to risk painful death, just so you'll help me find my rat?" Ron scowled. "Some brothers you are."
"Besides, Filch does suspect we're up to something with that door," Harry put in. "We got lost on the first day of classes, and he found us trying to open it. He'd have tossed us in the dungeons if Professor Quirrell hadn't been passing by."
"That changes things a bit." Fred pursed his lips, thinking. "All right, how about this. We help you now, and you owe us a favor, payable later."
"Nothing Mum would be unhappy to hear about," George added. "Too much."
Ron glanced up at Harry. "What d'you think?" he asked.
Harry hesitated, his instincts at war with one another. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of owing the Weasley twins anything, but he also suspected their sense of honor would stop them short of putting their younger brother and his friend into an actively dangerous situation.
Of course, what they consider dangerous and what we do might be awfully different…
"How much do you want to find Scabbers?" he asked Ron.
Ron hesitated for one more second, then sighed. "Fine," he said, turning back to the twins. "I'll owe you one. Just help me out. Please."
"Manners and all!" Fred beamed, and scooted the large piece of parchment closer to Harry and Ron. "Very well. Watch and learn."
Planting his wand's tip in the center of the parchment, he murmured a phrase too quietly to be heard.
"Meet our secret weapon in the war against the forces of authority," said George, as green lines began to spread outward from the spot where Fred's wand had touched. "The Marauder's Map."
"An Aid to Magical Mischief Makers." Fred stroked the edge of the parchment dotingly. "Like us."
"Who's…" Ron craned his neck to see the top of the parchment. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?"
"We're not sure, but they must have been excellent wizards, and mad for exploring." George swept his hand across the Map. "It shows everything. Every passage, every door, every person. And as far as we can tell, it never lies."
"Every person?" Harry leaned forward to get a closer look. Part of him wanted to press his fingers against the names scribed at the top of the Map, but Aunt Gigi's recent warning to Henry about his unusual susceptibility to the dangers of mixing up the worlds kept his hands where they were. "I feel like that'd make it awfully crowded. Especially during feasts or something."
"True, it does seem to winnow things down a bit." Fred frowned at the Map, currently showing the circular interior of the Gryffindor common room, with four dots of ink labeled with familiar names off to one side. "I think maybe it can tell who's activating it, and focuses its attention on the places and people you're most likely to want to see? Something like that."
"It tends to show us where Filch and the teachers are, so we can avoid them." George beckoned Ron closer. "But you're the one who wants to know, so go ahead and ask."
"Ask?"
"Pull your wand out, put it on the Map, and tell it what you want to know." Fred swirled his own wand in a circle. "That's how we worked out the password for it, back in our first year."
"That's how we started working out the password," George corrected, frowning. "We knew the sort of thing it must be, but not specifically how to phrase it, and then overnight the proper wording just popped into both our heads. Strange, I'd nearly forgot about that."
"Are you sure this thing is safe?" Ron paused with his wand almost touching the parchment. "Don't Mum and Dad always say not to trust anything that thinks for itself?"
"Never led us wrong so far." Fred shrugged. "But if you're afraid—"
Ron glowered and shoved his wand's tip against the Map. "Find Scabbers," he commanded. "My rat."
The lines on the Map blurred for a moment, as if they were redrawing themselves to account for a shift in the castle. Then a neat line of handwriting appeared in the margin.
No such entity found.
"Well, damn." George shook his head. "Sorry, Ron. Looks like he's not here."
"You're sure?" Ron lifted his wand. "It couldn't be wrong?"
"Let's test it with someone else." Harry drew his own wand and touched it to the parchment. "Find Neville Longbottom," he said.
The lines blurred again, and cleared to show the outline of a corridor, with two dots of ink moving along it, neatly labeled 'Neville Longbottom' and 'Draco Malfoy'. Harry peered closer, then grinned, tapping his wand against a smaller label which overlapped Neville's. "It even shows pets," he said, as the name 'Trevor' politely enlarged itself so that it could be read.
"So Scabbers really is gone." Ron slumped back in his chair. "Percy's gonna kill me."
"Who said he needs to find out?" Fred blanked the Map once more and tucked it away in his schoolbag. "I don't plan on telling him."
"And Scabbers was pretty old, wasn't he?" Harry sat down on the arm of Ron's chair. "You said Percy'd had him for years before you did. Even magic couldn't make him live forever."
"Besides, it might not be as bad as you're thinking." George nodded towards the darkening sky outside the window. "There's secret passages off the grounds, out to Hogsmeade and the like. So he might still be alive, just nowhere the Map can see him."
"I s'pose that's true." Ron frowned. "Hang on a tick. If you have this thing, why'd you need us to tell you what's inside the third-floor corridor?"
"Because, dear brother, all it gives us is a name." Fred tapped his fingertips together. "And that name, in this case, is 'Fluffy'."
"Which tells us absolutely nothing about what, or who, might be lurking beyond that door." George gazed into the middle distance. "But if you should ever happen to find it out…"
"Would that settle what we owe you?" Harry asked. "If we found it out, and let you know?"
The twins looked at each other. "I think that would be sufficient, don't you, George?"
"It is what we asked for to begin with, Fred."
Both of them turned to Harry and Ron. "Deal," they said together, and held out their hands. Ron shook Fred's, and Harry shook George's.
The bargain had been made.
XxXxX
Lurking near the exit of the Great Hall, Ryan Blake watched a pair of stocky redheads walking along the aisle between the Gryffindor table and the wall, both frowning fiercely at a worn piece of parchment one of them held in his hands. "…never seen it do that before," a voice came to his ears as they approached. "I hope it's not broken."
"What would make it break, though?" the other one countered. "It's always been trustworthy before. What's changed?"
"That is the question, isn't it?" The speaker looked up as he stepped through the doorway. "Oh, hi, Mr. Blake."
"Gentlemen." Ryan nodded to the Weasley twins, then looked down at the item one of them was holding. "What might that be?"
"It's just this old trick parchment we found," the other twin said easily, starting to draw his wand. "Nothing to—"
A whispered spell from behind them, and the parchment whisked itself away. Fred and George spun, identical looks of shock on their faces, in time to see John Reynolds catch their prize in his off hand. "Old trick parchment?" he repeated, beckoning the twins and Ryan closer. "Padfoot, I do believe we've just been insulted."
"Be fair, Moony," Ryan returned, joining John near the corner of the entrance hall, as the twins stared at them with dawning amazement. "They don't know who they're talking to yet."
"Wait." Fred looked from the Map to the Marauders and back again. "Are you saying you're—"
"Yup." Ryan nodded.
"And you made—" George began.
"We did," confirmed John.
The twins exchanged one look, then began to ceremoniously bow towards John and Ryan. "We are not worthy," they intoned in unison. "We are not worthy."
"This is nice." Ryan grinned. "Keep it coming."
John sighed. "That will do," he said in his best professorial tones, and the twins straightened up, though they still wore expressions of incredulous glee. "I must admit I'm happy to see our work out of Filch's hands, though I do ask that you use your power responsibly." He directed a stern look towards Ryan. "I'm sure my esteemed colleague Mr. Padfoot will say the same."
"Much as it pains me to put limits on those who follow in our footsteps…" Ryan grimaced. "Moony's not wrong. I pulled a couple things while I was here that I'm definitely less than proud of today. Best rule I can give you is NPD." He tapped three fingers against his palm. "No permanent damage."
"Mental scarring count?" asked Fred promptly.
"Grey area," Ryan began, only to be cut off by John's grip on his shoulder. "Well, it is!" he defended himself, glaring at John. "Besides, some people need to be taken down a peg or ten. Right?"
"Being a Hogwarts professor and therefore technically a representative of order and authority, I have, officially, no opinion on this matter." John extended the Map towards the twins. "However, I would ask that you use some basic judgment when you're thinking over what you're going to do next, and who you're targeting with it. Especially some of the younger students." He smiled slightly. "Consider whether you'd be all right with it if someone else played the same prank on, say, Ron or Ginny."
"Ouch." George flinched, accepting the Map. "You fight dirty, Professor."
"You've met my children, and their cousins. Not to mention this overgrown reprobate." John nodded to Ryan. "It's practically required."
"Good point." Fred nodded. "So if you made the Map, you might be able to tell us." He held it out. "Why's it doing this thing with some people's names? Like yours?"
"Sort of flickering, like it's not sure what to put there," added George. "We've never seen anything like it."
John heard Ryan suck in his breath, and raised a hand to reassure his friend. "It's nothing to worry about," he said. "We charmed the Map not to lie, but that doesn't mean it couldn't be confused. If, for instance, a person came to Hogwarts who'd changed his name. The Map might detect that, and be unsure which name to display." He fixed first one twin, then the other, with a direct look. "But I'm sure you two would never start, or perpetuate, ungrounded rumors."
"Of course not, Professor." Fred drew his wand and blanked the Map. "We are the souls of discretion."
"Besides, it'd affect our ickle Ronniekins if we said anything," George put in. "He's got a hard enough course to fly, coming after all five of us."
"And doubly besides, we respect those who achieve greatness in our chosen field." Fred grinned briefly. "What better prank could there be than hiding him from absolutely everyone?"
"Right in plain sight, even." George bowed once more. "We truly are not worthy."
"It is rather good, isn't it?" Ryan sighed happily. "Shame we can't tell anybody without ruining it, but the truth'll come out someday."
"I'm sure it will." John slid his wand away. "But not too soon, I hope. Selfish it may be, but I'm rather fond of the life we've managed to build for ourselves…"
XxXxX
"This is fascinating," murmured Hermione, looking over the program in her hands. "I've never even heard of some of these songs."
"Maybe were they written by magical composers?" suggested Neville diffidently.
"Of course, that would make sense." Hermione looked past Neville at Harry and Ron. "What about you two? See anything you recognize?"
Ron shook his head. Harry was about to do the same, but then paused, his eyes lighting on the final listing. "I feel like I've heard of this one," he said, laying his finger on it. "'Ashokan Farewell'." He looked to the right on the paper and grinned. "And I think I might see why. That's what Mal's playing."
"I hear a name I know," said a voice from the row behind them.
"Tonks!" Harry turned in his seat. "You came!"
"'Course I did. You think I'd miss it?" Tonks wrapped an arm around Harry and squeezed him briefly, punched Ron in the shoulder, and shook Neville's hand. "And who's this?"
"I'm Hermione," that young lady introduced herself, holding out her own hand. "You must be Mal's cousin, the Auror apprentice. I've heard ever so much about you."
"Have you, now." Tonks gave the boys a look promising retribution at the earliest possible moment, then accepted Hermione's handshake. "Glad to know you, Hermione. How'd you get mixed up with this little lot?"
"Harry and I joined the same book club." Hermione blushed, for no reason Harry could discern, but kept talking. "And then he asked me down to Hagrid's house for their usual Friday teatime this past week, and that's where I met everyone else. Not that I didn't know who they were already, the Houses do have some classes together, but you understand what I mean."
"All too well." Tonks looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall, currently a deep shade of violet spangled with stars but sporting a few last streaks of pink and purple towards the west. "I loved being a Hufflepuff, my Housemates were great, but some of my best friends came from the Combat Club my third-year Defense teacher had going for a while. That's where I first met Charlie, come to think," she said to Ron. "We got assigned as partners in one of the training games."
"Cool!" Ron rotated his wrist, as though imagining himself firing spells at a target. "Wish we had a Combat Club."
"That may yet happen," said a new voice, its amusement clearly audible despite its hoarseness. "But I'll need a chance to set things in order for it first."
"Er." Ron's ears turned pink as Professor Lupin regarded him from the aisle. "Sorry, Professor. Hope you're feeling better now. I didn't mean…"
"I understood what you meant, Ron. Don't worry about it." Lupin looked over at Tonks. "Are you saving this seat?" he inquired.
"Not at all. Come right in." Tonks waved at the chair beside her. "So you must be Professor Lupin, then."
"That is my name, but I don't believe we've…" Lupin trailed off, looking thoughtfully at her as he seated himself, his movements slow and careful. "No," he said, starting to smile. "No, I stand corrected. You're Andromeda Tonks's daughter, aren't you? Nymphadora?"
Tonks winced. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that. Or me. I was just a kid last time we met, I must've been so annoying…"
"On the contrary." Lupin shook his head, though not without a small wince. "You asked more intelligent questions about the war than most of the adults I encountered on a daily basis. What are you doing with yourself these days?"
"Auror Office. Still just an apprentice, of course, but it's what I always wanted. Plus it gives me an excuse to drop in here every so often and check on this lot." Tonks gestured to Harry and his friends. "What with one of them being famous and all, and a likely target for nasty types."
"She does the reports for the fake school where Harry's relations think he is," Neville put in. "We get to help."
"Fake school reports, you say?" Lupin raised an eyebrow. "This sounds like something I might be interested in…but later," he added as a stern-looking witch stepped out onto the dais where the teachers' table usually sat. "Professor Vector won't appreciate it if we talk while the music is going on."
Harry nodded in understanding and sat back in his chair.
Several performances later, Harry elbowed Ron, who tried to look like he hadn't been dozing in his seat. Draco was walking to the center of the dais, accompanied by—
"Is that McGonagall?" Ron blinked hazily at his Head of House. "What's she doing there?"
"Suppose she plays something." Harry smiled as McGonagall swirled her wand in a brisk curve, bringing a large, blocky object out of the shadows at the back of the dais. "Something like that."
Seating herself on the bench which had accompanied the upright piano, Professor McGonagall lifted its lid and laid her fingers on the keys, nodding to Draco. He nodded back, took a moment to visibly compose himself, then lifted his recorder and began to play.
The first statement of the theme soared out across the Great Hall, graceful and sweet and sad, speaking of joys desired, experienced, remembered. Hermione was leaning forward eagerly to listen, Neville had his hands twisted together, Ron was frowning as though trying to track down an errant memory. The faintest of smiles lit Lupin's careworn face, and Tonks had a fist pressed to her lips, pride and fierce delight shining in her eyes.
Draco brought the melody to a conclusion, drew a deep breath, and embarked on the reprise, Professor McGonagall adding strong, soft chords underneath his playing. For a moment, Harry's two worlds intertwined. A compact living room superimposed itself on the Great Hall, Draco's blond and fair was replaced with Mal's brown and tan, and sitting at the piano, smiling at her nephew with joy almost as intense as Tonks's—
No. I need to stop that. Harry pinched his arm, anchoring himself in the present moment. I already have so much of what I wanted. Mixing up dreams and reality is just going to get me stuck in that black void place again, and I don't know if anyone here would be able to pull me out of it.
But then again, I suppose it doesn't hurt to make a wish.
The piano rose a little to complement the slower, stronger notes of the final statement, and Harry closed his eyes. I wish we could keep on finding each other, just the way we have been, he enunciated clearly inside his mind. I wish we could all be together, and happy, and safe. Not just in the dreams, but for always.
The music ended.
I wish we never had to say goodbye.
(A/N: Whenever I sit down to write a story, there are usually specific moments that I am working towards, whether or not my readers realize it. These moments can be funny, angsty, amazing revelations, or any other brand of fun, and they are the reason I keep writing, to have the chance to share them with all of you. The twins bowing down to the Marauders is one such moment. I hope you enjoyed it.
I would strongly recommend that you look up a recording of "Ashokan Farewell", as it is a lovely piece. You may have run across it if you have ever seen the Ken Burns documentary The Civil War (it was used as the theme song) or if you enjoy folk or Celtic-style music.
Originally I intended to put another scene here, but that would make the chapter both a bit longer than I like and overload it with material. So next time: Halloween, FYOG-style. What will happen? What won't? And would you folks read a new, or new-ish, HP story by me? What about one in another fandom, perhaps a video game? Let me know, and see you soon!)
