Chapter 3 ~ Well That Went Well
He who angers you conquers you."
~ Elizabeth Kenny
Kally had barely been in the wizarding world a day, Hogwarts excluded, and someone had already attempted to hex her.
She wasn't a hundred percent certain that this would count as a total fail, since everyone she'd encountered did seem rather hex-happy, but she seriously doubted it was a win.
Harry's fingers were tight around her sleeve, Kally making a startled sound as he tugged her down the dark, disreputable looking alleyway. The hardened look upon his face was disturbing. Kally's pulse raced furiously. She was still scared. Borgin's had drawn a wand; he'd aimed it at her. It was the second time that summer that she could have died.
That alone led her to follow this practical stranger almost mechanically.
He'd prevented her from being hexed.
It made her want to run in the other direction.
"Well?" he demanded, keeping his voice down. He didn't even glance at her, green eyes fixated forward to avoid running into anyone. "What were you doing there? It didn't look like you accidentally took a wrong turn."
She didn't want to answer that. She wouldn't. The truth was she had overheard Hagrid speaking about getting a rather potent anti-doxie spray that could only be obtained in Knockturn Alley, and he'd mentioned the name Borgins & Burkes. Apparently that was where he acquired anything strange not normally kept in stock anywhere else. The proprietor, in Hagrid's words, specialized in acquiring 'off market types, if she knew what he meant.'
She had. 'Off market' was illegal or highly discouraged.
Thus the appeal.
She'd snagged the first owl she could and owled the place, asking if there were any books about rare magical species. The response had been prompt, immediate. That alone should have warned her, but it hadn't. The proprietor had simply asked if she had any rare species in mind.
She wasn't dumb. She listed several, Reaches included, and responded back.
The proprietor's response had been just as immediate. Kally had barely snagged it before Hagrid had seen, but Hagrid had been right. Borgin had said he could acquire one, and had offered several suggestions of payment if she were 'short on funds.'
That should have been her second warning.
She was short on funds though. Her family was dead and she was a teenager. She was broke, obviously.
But he'd offered a suggestion she could obtain: he was apparently looking for a magical creature's hair for use in some rare potions, and he'd given her several types he'd accept as payment.
One had been the hair of a Reach.
How fortunate for her that she was one.
That had been her third warning, one she'd also blindly turned an eye to in desperation.
She was a fucking idiot.
Closing her eyes she let the wizard drag her through the crowd and didn't complain. Not even as his fingers sunk deep into her wrist, not even as she got jostled amongst the various bodies milling about in the alley.
Kally might have been a fucking idiot, but that didn't mean she'd admitted the hair had belonged to her. She'd told Borgin she knew a Reach and that was the basis for her interest. Then she'd yanked out her own hair and prepared it, chopping off roots to ensure he couldn't use them to get her DNA. One of those CSI shows her brother used to watch had mentioned that hair wasn't useful as evidence unless the follicle was still intact, so she'd at least taken precautions.
Too bad the wizard with her, Harry apparently, had said DNA didn't matter as far as hexes were concerned.
Reason number four she was an idiot.
Kally hated the wizarding world. She truly did. She hated that she didn't know anything about it. She hated that it was going to get her killed. She'd never have tried this stunt if she'd known that basic fact.
But she hadn't, because no one had told her.
Then again why would they?
This had been a stupid, stupid move. She'd been stupid, careless, reckless. She'd wanted information and had hoped a stranger at a shop would provide it.
She felt sick.
"Kaleyehandra, right?"
Startled and jumping over a random hole in the ground, she shook her head, hair falling into her eyes. "Kaylens," she offered, "it's easier." He wouldn't butcher her name that way.
The wizard was eyeing her out of the corner of his, the green of his irises impossibly bright. "So?" he asked. "What were you doing?"
She was almost certain he had overheard her, or at least…enough to possibly work things out. Shuddering at the sheer thought she forced her tone bitter, annoyed. She needed him to go away. She needed him to go away quickly. "Do you always interrogate people you just met?" she questioned, the wizard abruptly changing directions to avoid a woman hawking what looked suspiciously like human toes.
"Depends," Harry said without missing a beat, "if they've nearly gotten my head hexed off or not."
"Hmph."
A day-time flying bat buzzed past their heads, its wings brushing by so close that it sent her hair actually rustling. She made a startled sound, and the wizard snorted rather ruthlessly.
"Welcome to Knockturn Alley, Kaylens. It's a real treat."
Her eyes flashed towards him, his fingers still around her arm. "What were you doing there?" she demanded.
"Already told you, making sure you didn't get yourself in over your head." He paused, then almost as an afterthought caustically added, "Great job on that by the way."
"Will you just let go of me already?" This time she hadn't meant to, but her words came out as a full on snap.
Harry actually slowed down, his gaze fixed determinedly forward as they approached a group of wizards in long, billowing cloaks, their hoods raised over their heads to hide their faces. "Do you have any idea," he muttered quietly, "what the sort here would do if they caught us?"
"Given how self-absorbed they seem," she muttered back in kind, "probably nothing." Catching sight of a rat gnawing on a homeless man's foot, she winced. "Scratch that, they'd probably loot our bodies while we were unconscious."
"Unconscious. That's cute."
Her eyes flashed to his face, but he wasn't looking at her.
"They'd kill us. Quickly if they're in a charitable mood."
Her heart thudded. "And if they're not?"
This time he did look at her, gaze dark and shadowed. "How about we concentrate on getting the hell out of here?"
Kally sucked in a breath and nodded. It was sinking in. It was dangerous here. She'd made a grievous error coming here.
She could get this wizard killed being around her.
The thought frightened her, inexplicably so.
Abruptly she yanked her arm away, ducking around a vendor, trying to get away from him as quickly as possible. She didn't want to know what would happen next. She didn't want to put anyone else at risk. She didn't want to know what he'd heard. She just wanted to put as much distance between him and herself as possible.
She didn't want to be here anymore.
Grimy dust kicked up behind her feet, and behind her she could hear him cursing.
She pretended not to notice.
Tucking a lock of darkened gold behind her ear, effectively removing the wayward strand from her face, she rounded the first twist in the crooked alley, passing a street vendor selling the ears of something that sounded suspiciously like 'house elves'.
A firm grip fell around her upper arm, the calluses on his hand rubbing against her skin as she reflexively attempted to yank her arm away, utterly failing.
The wizard's grip was unrelenting, Harry already twisting her around to look at her, Kally thudding against him and sucking in a breath. He made a sound in kind, but the expression he wore…
It was inflexible, unyielding. His jaw was set firmly, Harry looking ready to outright growl.
He didn't.
He just looked at her, eyes hard, dark as ink.
Without a word he moved, once more dragging her with him, hissing, "What about we need to get out of here didn't you understand? You were going the wrong way."
She hadn't known that. She swallowed, nervous tension riffling through her. She was scared, she knew it.
She needed to get angry.
"I don't," she hissed right back, "need led around like a child."
He scoffed. "Sure you don't."
Kally made an angry sound, the wizard just snorting as he darted around a cart full of dangling shrunken heads, still hauling him with her. "You know," he mused aloud, "when you make noises like that you sound just like a harpy."
She opened her mouth, sputtering. Whatever a harpy was it wasn't bound to be good.
She barely stopped herself from asking what a harpy was.
She couldn't ask questions. She couldn't admit to not knowing what things were. If she started doing that she might as well put on a sign or jump up on one of those disturbingly rotted carts and shout she didn't belong here.
And that was when yelling erupted. Loud, angry yelling.
The entire alley seemed to shudder, shifting in the commotion, every eye turning towards the sounds with rapt interest.
Harry froze, Kally's feet stopping alongside his, and she followed his gaze down the poorly lit alleyway. Wizards were drawing their wands, cloaks sweeping as they rushed past….
Someone had clearly discovered Borgin.
The dark haired wizard she was with began flattening his messy hair down over his forehead, a man with piercing blue eyes and albino-esque hair turning towards them-
Harry swore, turning and dragging her almost violently off to the side and into an alcove before she could even process what was happening.
A second later Harry shoved her down behind an abandoned beer keg, the wood rotting and reeking of mold. She opened her mouth to shout something angry at him, only for a hand to clamp over her lips, Kally making a muffled, angry sound.
"Shut up," he hissed, sounding urgent.
Something about the way he said it made her actually listen, Kally growing still. Very still. Sitting there, she could hear liquid slosh slightly as Harry shifted, both of his shoes in some puddle of disturbingly yellow-brown liquid where he crouched. Trying to control her breathing it took everything in her to avoid making a sound.
Slowly, very slowly, Harry removed his hand from her mouth, a finger pressing to his lips to request her silence.
The sounds in the alley were louder.
"There were some kids 'n there," came a dark growl passing them. "And his ledger's torn to shreds. Probably robbed 'im 'n disposed of the evidence."
"If we find 'em we'll string 'em up real good."
"Oughta make fer a good afternoon. Not had a lynchin' in days!"
"I find your presences ever taxing," drawled a surprisingly cultured, articulate voice, Kally not missing how Harry's hand tightened around his wand. Wands…
He might as well be holding a gun.
It made her want to leave, but she held still, very still. Raucous, cruel laughter drifted in from the street, the name Nott spat from one of the other men, the words echoing in the shallow alcove.
"They couldn't have gotten far."
"Do ye reckon they 'ere part of da collection? He was lurin' 'em in, all them half-breeds and gatherin' 'em up toda-"
"Silence you fools!"
The malevolence in that single voice chilled her blood, Kally's back against the barrel, the practical-Muggle closing her eyes for a long, long second as she tried not to tremble.
"Ah 'e's right ye know. 'ere not supposed to be talkin' in the open about that collection."
Something was hissed, it sounding almost Latin, and a flash of light erupted through the alley. It was bright enough for Kally to see it through her closed eyelids.
And that frightened her.
Her eyes flew open, and she found herself almost nose-to-nose with the wizard, Harry. His attention wasn't on her though. It was fixed down the length of the alley they hid within, one hand on her and the other wrapped tensely around his wand.
Every muscle on him was taut, tense. "Knew the bastard wouldn't stay in prison for long."
She frowned, parting her lips to ask-
She didn't get the chance. The green-eyed wizard fixed her with a cutting look, shadows playing across his jaw. "I told you," he said, "it wasn't safe here. It's not. Ever."
This wasn't exactly the way she'd envisioned the afternoon going. She wasn't sure what she'd envisioned, but it hadn't involved hiding in a puddle of piss. Fidgeting, waiting for the wizards they'd heard talking to leave, she concentrated on breathing calmly.
The problem was that Hagrid's friend was hovering close. Regrettably close given how small an area they were in, and for some reason that bothered her more than it should, his knee bumping against hers, his fingers digging hard against her wrist.
She fidgeted more, the wizard eyeing her strangely.
A rickety cart rolled past the alcove, Kally abruptly ducking her head low once more, shadows playing across the ground. Breathing slower she looked up, finding Harry looking right back at her, as if…studying her.
Without meaning to, without even being aware that she was doing it, she studied him right back.
An instant later her brow furrowed, curious. "Wasn't your hair black before?" she whispered.
The wizard outright snorted. "I don't know," he drawled, fixing her with a challenging look, "was it?"
Her mouth fell open. "Are you always such an ass?"
"Depends on the company."
"Enough said," she muttered darkly, whatever curiosity she'd had about him suddenly gone. Glancing around the keg to see if the people were gone, she urgently hissed, "I think they're-"
She didn't get a chance to finish. Harry had already snagged her arm and bodily hauled her out, the two bolting down the alley once more. He was dragging her so fast that she barely had a chance to catch her breath.
The speed made sense, given several Ministry of Magic officials had just apparated farther off down the alleyway, where they had been not minutes before.
Kally shuddered without knowing why. The Ministry…
Hagrid had said their laws were antiquated, that they'd kill people like her. Like some of the others.
The wizarding world wasn't particularly forgiving of half-breeds after all.
Harry's voice broke into her thoughts, the sound startling as a shotgun blast. It didn't matter that he was all-but whispering. "So," he pressed quietly as they moved, "what book was so important you had to go into Knockturn for it?"
His voice was casual.
Far too casual.
Her feet pounded against grimy dirt and they ducked around a group of vendors hawking eyeballs in jars. "No offense," she snapped, arm actually hurting beneath his iron grip, "but it's none of your business."
"Just," he commented, his voice carefully controlled, "trying to make conversati-"
A voluminous man covered in what looked like black spider webs shoved roughly past, cutting Harry off as he failed to take heed of the two individuals speaking a foot below his rather freakish height. In the process he smacked against them brusquely, their heads banging together hard, and she found herself kicking a spray of pebbles in the man's direction. The man halted, swore, and turned in place to look for the perpetrator.
She was jerked in another direction so fast that she barely had time to process how anyone could move that quickly, let alone the messy haired man with her. "Making friends everywhere I see," Harry commented dryly, hunkering behind a cart that had been selling rotting produce, the pungent wagon blocking them from the angry giant's view.
Potter shot her a fiercely annoyed look. "What about keeping a low profile until we we're out of here did you miss?"
"He was being an ass," she said, eyeing the angry-looking man through the swinging, mold-covered radishes.
She was reasonably certain that Harry actually growled at her. Growled like a rabid dog. She glanced at him curiously. "Please tell me you've had your shots?"
He looked confused. "Shots?"
"You sound like a dog."
Right. There was a second where he stared at her, just stared, looking as if he were slowly processing that.
Then his expression darkened exponentially.
"Harpy," he muttered, not as beneath his breath as he thought.
"Hound."
He grumbled something foul, the angry half-giant moving off. An instant later she was being dragged through the street again, the ground of haphazardly constructed alley having a tendency to move, bend and crack on a whim as they all but jogged to get out of there.
"You're really pleasant, you know that?"
He heaved an irritated breath, the two of them bursting out of Knockturn Alley and back onto the busy street of Diagon. It swallowed them whole. The sunlight almost blinded her, Kally squinting and blinking, Potter moving so fast that they were clear across the street and past a wizarding bank before it'd even registered.
"Do you have any idea what they meant?" he asked, shoving around a food cart. "That wizard said Borgin was luring them in today." He glanced back, eyes narrowing contemplatively. "And you were there."
Very, very suddenly Kally's entire body felt rather weak. It took her longer than she was proud of to manage an answer. "Why would I know anything about that?"
"You were in there longer than I was. You might have heard something."
"Yeah." She fixed him with a look. "You. Hexing things."
His jaw set in a taut line and he yanked her around another vendor hawking hats that shot out fireworks. Actual. Literal. Fireworks. Her neck craned back to stare.
"Those were dark wizard, Kaylens."
She snapped her head back around. "Tell me something I don't know," she muttered.
Without warning he turned around and stopped. Kally smacked into him with a quiet oomph. Lightning fast hands grabbed her by both arms, as if subconsciously concerned she'd be off balance, and they didn't let go.
Despite herself, despite sodding everything she shivered.
Actually shivered.
In the bright, afternoon sunlight.
Potter didn't. The wizard didn't move. He just stood there, like an immovable rock in the middle of the walking path.
It took her a moment to realize that her hands had flown up and fisted in the front of his shirt. A shot of something, like electricity, blazed through her, shooting from her fingers all the way up to her shoulders.
It tingled.
She let go as if she'd been scalded.
He said nothing. He just frowned, a deep, angry furrow over his eyes. It looked like he was debating something.
She needed to get away from him. She needed to get away from him now.
She didn't move; neither did he.
Around them the moving sea of bodies was near-claustrophobic. It pressed around her, around them, and Kally felt impossibly boxed in. The wizarding world was full of magic, all of these people armed with wands, and Kally was suddenly, truly terrified to try to move.
She hadn't had a problem doing so before.
She hated wands.
Aromas from the apothecary, ice cream parlor, and owl emporium mixed together, a faint hint of smoke drifting over from a joke shop with whirling trinkets in the window. Amidst it all Potter simply looked at her.
For the dozenth time that afternoon she wanted to run.
She was too afraid to.
Potter was oblivious to her inner turmoil. "They were dark wizards," he said slowly, seriously, as if thinking it over, "and Borgin was luring people into his shop today." He paused. "And you were there."
Kally glanced to the side and watched a burlesque woman scream, chasing after a toddler. She swallowed, nervous. "What's your point?"
"My point is I overheard something that I think has to do with you."
He hadn't let go of her. Her satchel dug uncomfortably into her shoulder, her neck, and Kally shifted awkwardly, lifting a solitary hand to tug at the strap. In the process she bumped Potter's arm, the wizard looking momentarily startled.
It was like he'd forgotten he was holding her arms.
He dropped his hands, but his eyes never wavered. "Kaylens…."
No. No she wasn't doing this.
"I was picking up a book, Potter. Nothing more nothing less." And that was the actual truth.
He looked at her skeptically. "So you're going to stand there and tell me you honestly don't know what those wizards were talking about?"
Kally didn't look at him. She kept her eyes carefully averted, staring out into the center of the street, but she could feel his gaze on her. It was heavy. It was like he could see straight through her.
It had her ready to shudder for inexplicable reasons. She hated this. She hated him. She wanted to run and not be asked questions, not be asked anything.
It wasn't his fault though. He didn't know. He didn't know her, and he certainly didn't know that she wasn't a witch.
She didn't want to think about what those people would have done to her if she'd been gathered up as a part of their collection.
And that was when it hit her.
It hit her like a battering ram.
There were more people being lured there today; more people than just her.
And they were going to take them.
Use them.
Probably kill them.
With a horrifying stab she realized they needed to find Hagrid. Now.
"Kaylens?"
Her eyes flew to his, her lips parting to speak-
A toddler darted past, knocking into her satchel and sending it flying up and into Potter's ribcage. He doubled over, grunting.
Then that same burlesque woman flew past, in hot pursuit, slamming into them. Both Kally and Potter were knocked bodily into the nearest shopfront window, the glass bending in but not breaking. It hurt. A shot of pain shot through her shoulder, an old scar hit in the wrong spot. For a second she just slumped against it, eyes closed, allowing the raw shooting pains to recede.
When she finally opened her eyes she found Harry rubbing his ribcage, looking somewhat annoyed and glaring in the direction the portly woman had just flown. "Bloody rude ass-"
She didn't hear the rest. Her nerves were still on fire and she was trying to think. She didn't know what to do. There could be others here, others like her, and if that horrible man's people got to them first-
"You okay?"
He asked this, almost automatically. His dark, forest-like eyes had cleared of suspicion for a brief moment, a strangely concerned look replacing it.
Her eyes darted to his, and only then did she realize that they had stopped outside an owl emporium. Nearby was a water trough, and overhead were nearly a dozen owls. "Yes," she managed. "I just-I think we should-"
She never finished.
A woman wearing a torn, tattered gray shawl limped around the corner, leaning heavily on a claw footed cane. She got far too close to them – uncomfortably close. Neither spoke as the woman shambled along, quietly croaking out a melody of sorts about bat wings and who-ding-its.
As soon as the woman neared the weave of the alley, becoming interested in street vendor's merchandise, Potter closed the distance between them, his shoes disturbing the deep claw marks that the elder's cane had left indented in the soiled ground.
The dark haired wizard was looking at her, his jaw tensing, looking like he was going through several different thoughts in his head before deigning to speak.
"You think what, Kaylens?"
He was close to her. So close. He was close enough that she could see his eyes, bright green in the sunlight, his hair so dark it looked almost wet. He was taller than her, but not by much. And still…that small height difference bothered her, intimidated her.
Sent her heart pounding.
There was a slight woodsy scent clinging to him, like a broomstick, and she unconsciously took a step back.
He looked surprised, for a moment, both of his eyebrows reaching up into his hairline. "Just saying, Kaylens, going into places like Knockturn is a bad idea, particularly for a book."
She wet her lips, nervous. She needed to find Hagrid. She needed to find a way to talk to Hagrid without Potter. She didn't need him getting more suspicious. She didn't need him standing this close to her. She didn't need him following her.
She needed to figure out how to start reacting rather than freezing.
She'd frozen when they'd come for her family; she didn't want to make the same mistake again.
And with Potter this close, she didn't need her heart beating this fast.
She opened her mouth to ask where he thought Hagrid may be-
"Seriously," he repeated, cutting across her, albeit unintentionally, "a book?"
Swallowing, hearing the owls from over the trough rustling their wings, she shook her head. "Maybe," she murmured, "I really wanted to read it."
A dark brow rose. "Hogwarts has books."
"Not this one. Special edition."
His expression turned skeptical. "How would you know what they do or don't have? I thought you were a transfer?"
She was already scanning the cobblestone streets, half-distracted as she said, "I'm already staying there."
Had she said something foul about his mother his expression probably wouldn't have differed by much. The wizard stared at her, something about his stance seeming stiff, his expression unreadable. "You're," he calmly, too calmly, repeated, "staying there?"
A hoard of children rushed past, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
Potter's malachite gaze rested firmly on hers. It was penetrating. Kally took an unbidden step backwards. She had no idea how to handle this, let alone address it. Hagrid hadn't said anything about that being anything out of the ordinary. "Doesn't matter," she deflected.
"No," he grunted, taking a step forward to match the one she'd taken back. "You said you were staying there. How?"
Taking another slight step back, trying to calm her breathing, her spine thudded against something solid. Somehow she had wound up with her back pressing against several stacked crates labeled rat food. Looking at him, she fiercely whispered, "It's none of your business."
He stood there, right in front of her, his jaw appearing to lock as neither of them said anything for a long, long moment. It was surreal, how chilling that was, despite the warm summer sun beating down and the throngs of crowds bustling past.
There was something about his eyes, a trace of familiarity within them that scared her.
Kally wet her lips, eyes darting around his larger form. "Look, I should get back to meet up with Hag-"
"So now," he interjected skeptically, "you want to go wait for Hagrid?"
Her gaze flickered from the bustling street back to him. "That's really not the point."
"Oh I disagree," he stated, "I think it very much is." She didn't miss how his gaze took on a suspicious, disapproving glint, dropping to the aged book sticking out of her satchel.
Kally was suddenly, unbelievably glad that the cover was only etched with the author's name, and nothing else. So she just stood there, trying to remain calm. "So you're telling me," she stated quietly, "that every time you're in Diagon Alley that you inform Hagrid about everything you do?" She inclined an eyebrow in silent query.
"That's not the point," he countered, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"I think it very much is, actually."
"Look-"
"No," she interrupted. "I'm not going to look. In case you're missing it you've got me pinned in and I'd like very much to leave. So can you please-"
The dark haired wizard's jaw clamped shut, a look of uncertainty sweeping across his features, as if he had no clue on how to respond. It was like he hadn't even realized he'd boxed her in. It took a second, a long second, but he finally took a step back, giving a gesture with his hand to indicate she could move whenever she wanted.
Voice unsteady she managed, "Thank you," before starting to dart past-
An unbreakable grip snagged onto her arm. "How about," he dryly said, "I go with you, given Hagrid asked us to watch out for you."
She looked down at his hand, then back up at him. The feel of his fingers against her bare skin was…she didn't know.
She just shrugged her arm away, staring at him hesitantly, as if he were something particularly dangerous. She didn't like him. She really didn't want him around. He might have overheard something, seemed almost nice suddenly, and she needed to keep him as far away from her as possible.
Borgin was luring half-creatures to his shop…
They had to do something, and this wizard…
He couldn't know about it. He couldn't know about her. Dumbledore had been very, very clear that no one could know.
"No thanks," she forced. "Not sure about you, but I'm not a particular fan of people who interrogate me within five minutes of meeting." And with that…
She tried to dart off.
Unfortunately she ran headlong into Hagrid, the impact knocking her several steps backwards.
Kally knocked into the water trough, the owls overhead suddenly disturbed.
ECOTS
Removing the shawl Tonks smiled maniacally, partly due to her relief at being away from the amazingly putrid odor of the house elf ear vendor, and partly because she was enjoying her old woman disguise too much.
"Out of me way!" she snapped in a scratchy voice, effectively clearing the area as people scattered in every direction. Anything to avoid getting whacked upside the head by the old lady with the sharp cane.
Grinning with sadistic pleasure she passed where Kingsley stood, casually leaning against a dingy Knockturn Alley wall and reading the newspaper. Wasting not a second she snagged onto his sleeve, dragging him with her after the two teens.
Kingsley yanked out his ear piece, the one that had allowed him to hear everything she had.
"Tonks drop the old woman diatribe, you're mucking it up and sound like a pirate."
She threw her head back and cackled, sending a small group of frogs scattering in every direction.
"Oh being old is fun!" she related. "I should do this more often!"
Kingsley now appeared to be thumping himself in the head with the rolled up sports section.
Maintaining their ambling pursuit, she was having trouble grasping Harry's conversation due to the noise. Knockturn Alley was typically deserted, but today it was strangely bustling. Fortunately they were able to stay relatively close due to her tendency to knock anyone unlucky enough to walk in front of them in the back of the knee with the claw footed cane.
"Remind me why we didn't just confront them?" Kingsley grumbled unhappily.
"Well one," she said cheerfully, "do you really think they'd be upfront about what their little rendezvous was about? Two, this is just so much more fun!"
Kingsley groaned. "And here I thought you were the one against following Harry around."
"Details!" she shot back. "Besides, if I'm going to throttle him I at least need to hear that I have a good reason."
"I'd have a few for throttling you…"
"You never let me get to three," she continued flippantly. "Because I think he hexed Borgin, and got him real good."
Kingsley sputtered loudly, choking on what appeared to be his spoon. "Why in the HELL didn't you intervene?!"
"Well how else will Harry ever get proficient at defending himself? Besides, I think he was defending the giiiiiirl." She added enough emphasis to the last word that Kingsley groaned loudly, the noise vibrating in her ear.
"But Harry is okay."
"Yup!" she said gleefully, glad that she had been right about him. "Boy's got a mighty spin on his hexes so looks fine! Not sure we can say the same for Mr. Borgin."
"You didn't check?!"
Tonks cackled, stalking and swinging her cane in response. Obviously she hadn't. Borgin was a slimy git.
From farther off in the alley there was a shout about an attack and robbery at a shop.
Tonks' boss groaned so loudly, his complexion growing shockingly red, that she feared for his literal health. Several menacing looking wizards were rushing past them towards the general direction of Borgin & Burkes, looking murderous, and she dimly heard Kingsley requesting backup to Borgin & Burkes, due to reports of wand fire.
"You're such a sucker for protocol, Kingsley. Who cares if he has tentacles growing out of him?"
"It's our job, Nymphadora," he said in a tired voice. "Or did you once again forget your place of employ?"
Smiling cheekily Tonks ignored this. "Watch and learn from the master Kingsley. Watch and learn."
Kingsley snorted. "I thought I was the master."
"Oh?" she questioned, "So I guess it is okay to refer to you as that."
"You're really aiming to get that personalized, permanently stuck nameplate aren't you?"
"You wouldn't."
"What makes you think not?"
Smirking she did her best to keep Harry's head in sight, only she'd lost him. Cursing under her breath she walloped her procured cane against a man too busy posturing for a Veela look alike to notice the bustling crowd swarming around him. "Where did he…"
Harry darted out of an alley right then, dragging the girl behind him.
She let out a triumphant cackle, turning to Kingsley. "If you put a nameplate on my office it'll…"
"You don't have an office."
She frowned. "Someday I might."
"Not if you keep this up."
Groaning she whacked her boss with the cane, appeased by the fact that a six foot plus man was now hopping up and down on one foot courtesy of her.
"Now that I've got your attention…"
He groaned, the two bursting out into Diagon Alley, sunlight beating down upon them.
"If you do that it'll permanently remind you of me, and you wouldn't want that now would you?"
Right then Kingsley looked very much like he would love to drown himself in the water basin outside of the Magical Menagerie. It was a shame the owls drinking from it looked murderous.
It took another second for the information to process within her mind, for it was a relatively clear area all of a sudden, courtesy of Hagrid blocking traffic, and Harry had just drug the girl over there.
Each and every single owl was glaring in their direction.
ECOTS
Half breeds.
They'd said half-breeds.
A surge of anger shot through him and his fists clenched. He was sick of the prejudicial bastards having control. Being free. Nott was supposed to be in prison, yet he'd just heard him skulking about Knockturn, plotting, planning.
Borgin was luring half-breeds into his shop. That much was obvious. That's what they'd overheard. What he did with that information though…
Harry stood there, tense, and looked over the witch he'd just met. He shamelessly looked her up and down, racking his mind for everything and anything either Hermione or Hagrid had mentioned over the years about how to spot mixed blood in a witch or wizard. But in Kaylens…
He saw nothing.
No pointed ears. No out-of-place pale skin. No strange teeth or eyes. No insanely beautiful features or insanely ugly ones. No. She was as normal as they came, but most importantly she was quite clearly human.
She was undeniably not a "half-breed."
Yet she'd been in Borgin's shop.
She'd been in Borgin's shop when Death Eaters had been luring half-breeds into a trap.
His stomach clenched as he mulled over what that might mean.
Moody and Kingsley had filled him in on most of it, against 'Kingsley's better judgement.' Tonks had filled in additional blanks, and by the time he'd gotten to Grimmauld Place, where the rest of the Order had clammed up, right on schedule, Harry'd already been given a pretty damn good idea of what was going on.
Voldemort was desperate. He was recruiting anyone with mixed magical heritage, so long as it wasn't Muggle. If they didn't come willingly he abducted them. Anyone who refused was slaughtered or forced. There'd been a bloodied path of bodies left in his wake, children and families slaughtered.
Tonks had bitterly sat there, picking scabs out from beneath her nails wearing a sad pout as she'd explained it all to him. They'd had some time. It'd taken a while for Mundungus to nurse his balls back to health, and even longer for Kingsley to convince him that he could sit on a broom for the flight to London without there being dire effects to his sperm count.
Moody's tactics had been quite different.
He'd assured Mundungus that a lack of sperm would be doing the world a favor.
Regardless, Tonks had been informative. Apparently the Death Eaters had somehow gotten an article into the Daily Prophet, the newspaper publishing it under what they termed 'considerable duress' as the head editor's family was held hostage. It'd cleared up exactly 'why' people should join the Death Eaters and exactly 'why' it was okay to embrace the powers of the larger magical community.
It seemed ole snake face was no longer content to just subjugate Muggleborns and to kill Muggles, but he was now taking personal offense to anyone other than pureblood witches and wizards having magical powers that he personally did not. According to the article, according to the Death Eaters, the magical powers of other species should be "wizarding kinds for the taking."
And they sure as hell were taking them.
So much for the good day he'd been having with Ron.
Hagrid was back now. He needed to let him know. There was just one small problem with that.
Kaylens.
He didn't know how much she knew, if anything. He didn't know what the hell he could safely say to Hagrid in front of her, but he had to warn somebody. People could get hurt if they didn't act. Back there in the alley he'd had a decision to make. He could have made a run for it, to somehow get to Hagrid without Kaylens, or perhaps he could have gotten to a Floo network and gotten Mrs. Weasley. Or someone from the Order. Anyone.
But if he'd done that it'd have meant abandoning Kaylens. He hadn't been able to do that either.
But he couldn't let her know what the fuck was going on. There was a niggling feeling within his gut that warned him that she was lying about something. She knew more than she was saying. She'd been at Borgin & Burkes. She'd had a pre-arranged meeting with Borgin. She'd been pissed he'd interrupted her. She'd tried to get away from him, Harry, who had quite literally saved her neck, multiple times afterwards.
He'd saved her ass from getting hexed.
Now he wondered if maybe that wasn't it. Maybe that wasn't it at all. Maybe it had been staged, for his benefit, to throw him off their scent. It wouldn't be the first time someone had staged something to fool him. It wouldn't even be the first time someone young, a student, got recruited by Death Eaters to help with something. Hell, Malfoy was a walking and talking testimony for that.
Fortunately Ministry officials had shown up. As incompetent as they were, that had bought him some time to feel Kaylens out. He doubted even Death Eaters would be bold enough to stage a broad daylight kidnapping with Aurors right outside their shop door.
Harry figured it'd bought them a half hour, maybe more.
Now he just needed to figure out why the hell Kaylens had been there in the first place.
And he needed to let Hagrid know, without being obvious.
He watched as Kaylens backed right up into the owls' drinking trough, the slanted lines of the barn owls' faces unnerving as a sharp clacking filled the air. It was almost unnerving, the way the powerful beaks snapped shut over and over.
Harry stared as the witch whirled around, her eyes glued upon the unhappy birds of prey, only able to watch as she slowly, almost instinctively took another step back, away from them.
Their behavior was predatory, defensive.
Harry's gaze shifted from her to the birds and back. He'd never seen owls act like that.
And because he was watching, because he was vigilant, Harry didn't miss how Hagrid's hand clamped firmly onto Kaylens' shoulder, abruptly tugging her back an extra meter and onto the curb. Traffic was now moving around them, rather than pinning them in, courtesy of shoppers trying to avoid Hagrid's hulking form, and the half-giant was using it to his advantage.
"Heya 'arry," Hagrid greeted, not looking at him and instead eyeing the owls with a strange expression. "Madam Malkin done torturin' Ron I take it?"
It was far, far too casual given the dark nature of his thoughts.
Harry grimaced, swallowed and shook his head. "Not exactly."
"Eh well, it 'appens," the half-giant, clearly not having heard him. The part-giant's dark eyes darted underneath the thick scruff of hair on his large head, looking between the two of them. "Ye two getting' on well are yer?"
Not exactly…but he didn't have a chance to comment on that either.
Hagrid instead clapped him rather hard on the back, Harry being shoved forward two steps to avoid face planting into the cement.
"Good to 'ear, Harry. Good to 'ear."
It was clear that Hagrid was hardly paying attention, to him at least. To Kaylens however….well, the half giant was observing her as if she were a sick hippogriff about to go off. Not that he could blame him, with the way she now stood, teetering on the curb away from the shop front, rubbing her shoulder a slight grimace gracing her mouth.
The quiet, almost pained individual before him appeared rather different from the girl he had just been bickering with along the streets.
For a half-second Harry wondered if Borgin had actually hurt her, his fist tensing.
"Yer okay there Kally?" Hagrid asked, apparently noticing as well.
Harry found a strange knot had twisted in his stomach, waiting for the answer.
"I'm fine, Hagrid," she responded dully. Her hand fell away from her shoulder.
"Are you sure?" This time it was him who asked the question, his gaze locking onto hers, the witch's eyes rising, surprisingly meeting his own for a fleeting second.
"Yeah…" she murmured. "I just got jostled a bit in the crowd." The forced smile she cast did not reach her eyes.
And just as quickly as before a shadow crossed her gaze. Harry half wondered if he'd hallucinated it, but her eyes had already turned downward, looking once more at the cobblestone street of Diagon rather than at either of them.
Very quietly, almost as an afterthought, she quietly said, "I'm getting sick of everyone asking me that."
"Yes well, it will 'appen to yer…" Hagrid muttered.
Kaylens glanced up at the giant, frowning. "So you keep telling me."
Harry got the distinct impression that this was part of an ongoing conversation, one he wasn't a part of.
The half-giant cleared his throat, turning his attention back to him. "So, ye two have fun today then?"
Harry's gaze darted to hers, finding that Kaylens was looking at him, looking almost afraid.
For some unbelievably asinine reason he found himself nodding. "Yeah we um…" dragging his hand across his head, through his unruly hair, he gestured at the book in her satchel. "We went to the bookstore."
It was lame. It was a lie. He had no fucking clue why those words had just come out of his mouth.
He'd ask Ron to punch him across the face later.
A look of pure relief crossed her features, the witch silently mouthing thank you behind Hagrid's back, and for some cursed fucking reason his stomach leapt at that.
He still wasn't sure why he was lying for her. He wasn't even sure he liked this witch. In fact, he was positive he found her fairly dislikable given that she argued about everything. He sure as hell didn't trust her.
She could be a Death Eater.
He just didn't know.
Shit.
"Hagrid-" he started at the same time Kaylens blurted, "Hagrid I think we need to-"
They both stopped and stared at one another, and then, as if in silent agreement, she offered a weak smile and inclined her head towards him.
Harry nodded back stiffly, jerking his attention to the half-giant. There was a way to do this in front of her. "Hagrid, when we were shopping I thought I saw Nott Senior and some of his cronies. He's out of jail. They were also talking about luring people into Borgin & Burkes." He grimaced, aware that what he was saying applied to Hagrid. "He said they were luring half-breeds. I thought-we thought the authorities might need to know."
Hagrid stared at him.
Then he looked at Kaylens and stared at her.
A look of panic was in his eyes and he said a word that sounded distinctly like 'grawpy.'
Shit.
Harry winced, then glanced at Kaylens, who looked damn confused. She had stepped forward, just a step, murmuring, "Hagrid?"
She didn't get any farther. An owl, one particularly low on an outside perch of the shop, tried to take a chunk off her head.
Before Harry could even blink Hagrid had grabbed her, tossing her between him and the owls, shouting back towards Harry. "We have ter go, Harry. Come with us and we'll get yer back to, Ron. Kalliandra, I got ye an owl. It's back with Madam Malkin. Can't way for yer to meet it. You'll love 'im. Just you wait and see."
It all happened fast. It was all too casual for what it actually was. Hagrid talked at a fast, nervous pace, the half-giant bowling through the crowd in his haste to get to the Order. Yet as Harry swore and rushed to keep up, he saw Kaylens flash a fleeting look back at him from beneath Hagrid's massive arm.
And despite the situation Harry actually smirked.
ECOTS
The events in Diagon Alley set off a ripple effect.
Remus Lupin was just one of the ripples.
Remus arrived in Hogsmeade in a torrent of Floo-powder. His flight to Hogwarts had been, in a word, rushed.
The Order had sent out the alert to all its members, several within its ranks labelled as 'high risk.' The message had been for anyone with creature blood to get to Hogwarts. Immediately.
He was one of them, as was Hagrid, as were the Delacours and Flitwicks. The only one who had been safe at the time the warning had been sent out had been Madam Hooch, who had already been safe on the Hogwarts' grounds, preparing the pitch for the upcoming school year. Apparently there had been an infestation of 'Bottom Biting Daisies' on the grounds themselves, and 'Toenail Furnunculus' had rapidly taken over the vast majority of the locker room showers.
Remus, having grown up with James and Sirius, knew when to interrupt Dumbledore's explanations and when not to.
This was one of those situations where he definitely needed to.
The rest of the Order had been dispatched to Knockturn Alley. Tonks and Kingsley were apparently already there, and from what Remus understood they'd managed to intercept two other underage partial-creatures, one witch who was a tenth siren and a wizard who was a fifth ogre, from becoming Voldemort's latest 'recruits.'
Nodding a polite greeting to Rosmerta he didn't take the time to shake the vestiges of soot off him. He just strode across the Three Broomsticks, flaking dust in his wake, and shoved the familiar door with its tinkling bells wide opened.
And then…he waited.
It was a disturbingly empty street.
Hazel eyes studied the road for long moments, many more than would be strictly deemed necessary. And still…no one showed.
With haste he made his way to Hogwarts, His visit was ill timed. He had planned to return to the school, temporarily, later that week. This new information had simply upped the time table.
Dumbledore had outreached him shortly after the first wave of attacks. The wave where they'd failed to reach the victims in time, where all had died or been taken except for one.
Ironic that hers was a species even more hated, more vilified than his.
It was little wonder Dumbledore had requested he provide her tutelage. He was one of the few, along with Rubeus, that would not be afraid of her. They both could understand that she was far more likely to hurt herself than to intentionally harm anyone else, and the likelihood of her surviving long enough to even accomplish that….
It was so very, very slim.
Her kind did not survive for very long. Their magic was like a poorly functioning circuit. Their bodies would simply give out.
As Tonks had said on the night they had found her, it was a miracle she'd lived to the age she already was. Sixteen….
The oldest on record had only lived to nineteen, and most…
They succumbed far, far younger than that.
Magic did not play anyone favors, and it was rarely kind. His wolf's curse was proof to that. His senses were heightened, reflexes quickened, but it aged him, giving him premature death far sooner than a true wizard would have.
And that was without considering the pain, the skull crushing migraines before and after the nights of the full moon, and the ever-present fear that he would harm another.
He'd lived that nightmare. Once. Long ago. Few alive knew, and that was another reason Dumbledore had requested him. He alone amidst the rest of the Order knew what it was like to not just be inhuman, to be vilified, but he knew what it was like to have killed someone he loved when his monstrous form took over.
But the broken girl he and Tonks had scraped out of the mud had survived.
She wasn't a witch. She wasn't a species that had a community to rely upon. She was a fatal mutation that never lived long enough to breed, because natural selection saw fit to make sure of it.
But she deserved a chance, and with Voldemort looking for anyone who was different, even remotely, even dangerously so, she would never have it amidst Muggles.
Yet wizarding kind would want her dead. "Living Grims" they called them. It was crass, cruel.
The girl lacked five years of magical education. She lacked any knowledge whatsoever of their world. She needed to learn how to blend in, and blend in quickly if she harbored any hope of surviving.
It would be his job to remedy that. Dumbledore had, once more, provided him a job. He would be her tutor.
He caught sight of Dumbledore near the castle gates.
"Did the others make it?" he asked, moving down the sparsely used road with haste.
For the first time the Headmaster of the ancient school of witchcraft and wizardry turned his aged, wizened gaze onto him. "We are still awaiting the arrival of the Flitwicks. The Delacours found themselves somewhat diverted by…unforeseen circumstances."
His shackles went up, instantly. "What circumstances?"
Towering trees framing the gates, the branches reaching like protective arms that were bound and determined to protect anyone passing beneath their ancient boughs from wind or rain, or sleet or snow. Now, in the dead of summer, they created a canopy that cast green-tinged shadows around the Headmaster's feet.
"It appears," Dumbledore said, a slight twinkle in his eye, "that Bill Weasley had already extended an invitation out to the Delacours for a family lunch, so-to-speaks, in which he requested their daughter's hand in marriage." The far older man smiled kindly. "Given the protective wards on the cursebreaker's home Fleur and Gabriella's father agreed, if and only if his abode proved sufficient protection against Death Eaters. I so do find protective father's and determined would-be-son-in-laws to strike a pleasant dichotomy, don't you?"
A leaf broke free and floated down.
"So they're with Bill," he said, summoning it up in four words.
"Indeed they are my old friend."
Shifting his briefcase to his other arm, having not had time to pack much, he allowed a small smile. "Suppose Molly's going to be thrilled."
Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles, polishing them on his summer robes. "Oh, I imagine she will come around. The prospect of grandchildren often has that effect on grandmothers-to-be."
Now Remus' eyebrows shot straight up. "So Fleur is-"
"Not yet, but it is only a matter time, wouldn't you agree?"
Remus could honestly say he had no knowledge of the Weasleys and their children's sex lives, but he couldn't resist a small chuckle.
And then he sobered. "Have we heard anything from Diagon?"
"So far it is positive news," he stated. "It appears two unidentified youths had the good fortune to cause a considerable disturbance in one of the shopfronts. It drew the Aurors before any of the victims could arrive."
His hair prickled, Remus having a very good idea of who one of those youths might be. "Allow me to guess…"
Dumbledore smiled knowing but did not answer. Instead he continued polishing his spectacles. "You know Remus, it is amazing, how the sun glare can make even the most tiny of smudges stand out, similar to how the moon shields us from the sun when an eclipse aligns it the earth and the moon with our favorite star."
The Headmaster held his glasses to the sun, studying them through his light, twinkling, currently squinted eyes, searching for any leftover imperfections.
One would never know they were operating on emergency protocols.
Dumbledore let out a contented sigh. "But enough about the rattled musings of this grandfather clock's inner workings. How have you been? I trust Rosmerta's Floo is still in frightening working order?"
Remus felt a mild stab of fondness. Yes, Dumbledore was still the same.
"The Floo was horrifying, and with the exception of…current events," he grimaced honestly, "things have been the same."
Dumbledore replaced his glasses on his nose, looking off towards the sun as if seeing something far past it. "Ah...so, I'd be remiss in asking if Nymphadora has managed to convince you to take her on, what I believe all the young are calling it now-a-days, a 'date'?" The Headmaster look at him benignly, a rather sly smile on his face.
Remus might have gaped had the situation been different, but it was not. Instead he groaned and pushed past, striding through the gate onto the grounds. "She got to you too."
"Don't be ridiculous young man, I simply decided to join the inevitable betting pool. You know how these things spring up."
He found himself casting a withering look back towards the most powerful man alive. "Betting," he repeated dangerously, "pool?"
"Mmm," he made an affirming sound. "I believe Nymphadora has me down for ten galleons and six quid, on her winning you over by summer's end."
This time Remus could not help it. He stopped. Then he stared. "Tonks," he repeated, just to ensure he had heard correctly, "is in on it?"
"But of course. She is, after all, the one who started it."
Remus groaned. Loudly.
"Surely you cannot fault an old man for being a romantic at heart?"
Remus ignored that, for the moment. He began contemplating his flight from the country, then remembered with deep and profound regret that there was a war he could not in good conscious run from. "I'll have a talk with her."
Dumbledore smiled cagily, as if things were going quite according to his plan. Remus instantly found himself shaking his head. "Don't get any ideas. I'm simply going to request she disband it."
To his horror the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, of the wizarding legislature, and of Hogwarts made another one of those humming sounds that surely implied he was just humoring him.
They walked in silence for several moments, the grounds expansive.
"Do you recall your seventh year, Remus, when young Mr. Black and your Cassilyda had a bit of an argument?"
He ignored the painful stab mention of either party elicited, and glanced to the side, albeit warily. "Which one?" The things between the two had been a weekly occurrence.
"For this particularly one, I seem to remember a certain James Potter walking in on them and they took it…less than well. If my battered old mind recalls correctly, it took Pomfrey all afternoon to get him straightened out. She was rather reluctant to change him back of course, something about liking him better as a mute eel, unable to cause mayhem on an hourly basis, locked up in a tank. I believe Lily had been particularly amused."
That fight.
He remembered that fight.
A stab of pain, so acute the wound could have been freshly cut open yesterday, swept him.
And still he remembered the faces that James the eel had made, pressing his slimy, snakelike body against the glass walls of the fish tank. They had scooped him off the floor and conjured a tank quickly, filling it with water as soon as they had seen him flopping around on the stone floor.
Whether Lily had seen James or not before stepping on him had been a matter of debate for weeks.
Not to mention, in the hospital wing, when James had started trying to form letters with his long, serpent like body...
Lilly had not taken that initial proposal attempt well.
He chuckled slightly. He still wanted to know how James had contorted himself into an R.
"Quite an impressive bit of Transfiguration for fifth years... I gave Gryffindor house twenty points for that," Dumbledore mused aloud, turning his gaze on him, his eyes twinkling with amusement over the rim of his glasses. "I was sorely tempted to give out an award for Special Services to the School, since the Minister of Magic was visiting that day, and their "accident" rendered James incapable of doing something drastic, like turning the Minister's hair neon pink. Come to think of it I wouldn't entirely mind seeing that."
Remus could only shake his head, suppressing the laughter threatening to come out. It was good seeing Dumbledore.
"Of course, in the end, no one could determine whose wand actually had transfigured young James at the time, so I could not award anyone. To this day I am sorely disappointed by that."
"That was your only reason for not giving it?"
"Why yes Remus. Do you really think I would pass up a chance to encourage the propagation of good behavior when Ministry officials are visiting?"
"Not when Umbridge is the Ministry official," he replied, thinking of how Fred, George, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had described that impractical toad the year before.
"Ah yes...how is she doing in St. Mungos? I believe the verdict was temporary insanity?"
Anger flashed in him. The wolf. "It should have been permanent insanity and a life sentence in Azkaban," he growled. "The toad was about to use an Unforgivable Curse on Harry."
Dumbledore nodded curtly. "Ah, but the word would be 'unforgivable' and we are supposed to be forgiving. And speaking of forgiving I do believe I ought to forewarn you somewhat…there is a bit of a spat going on."
"Spat?"
At this Dumbledore's grandfatherly smile dissipated considerably. "Perhaps it would be best you see yourself. And then perhaps yourself, Rubeus and I may consider partaking in some of the good, old fashioned fire whiskey that I have been saving for just such an occasion."
He eyed Dumbledore curiously, "I didn't know you drank fire whiskey."
"But of course I don't," he replied, winking mischievously. "I haven't had reason for such extravagant celebration since the Marauders graduation, granting me peace of mind and serenity again. Of course..." Dumbledore turned, waving for him to follow. "I'm not entirely sure I even have a mind left, with which to enjoy the serenity with."
Remus opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came forth. Instead he found himself following the Headmaster across the lawn, Hagrid's cabin quickly coming into sight as Dumbledore continued idle chitchat.
"...Now of course the key in those situations is managing the brew in reasonable amounts, a talent my dear brother does not possess," Dumbledore was saying, referring to his goat herder brother's drinking habits.
"Half my year didn't possess that talent," he replied, thinking of the one time he, James, Sirius, and Peter had gotten a hold of a bottle of Firewhiskey their seventh year. That had not gone over well. Fortunately Pomfrey had bought the excuse that all of them had caught the flu from each other.
His thoughts were abruptly cut off as a loud, deep booming noise, sounding oddly like a firecracker going off, met his ears. His attention turned towards the source, which was immediately apparent upon seeing the sight in front of him.
Hagrid and a young girl with golden hair were having a row. Only Hagrid seemed to be doing most of the yelling, while the girl just huffily picked up rock after rock from the side of the hut, flinging them with unusual vigor and accuracy, at an unsuspecting tree trunk, which was taking the brunt of her very visible frustration.
"Why hello Hagrid! Hello Kalliandra!" Dumbledore called out cheerfully, as if nothing were amiss.
Hagrid's voice immediately died down and the girl waved slightly before walking pointedly off towards the woods, where she stood blowing into her cupped hands, an odd whistling sound emitting from them.
He found himself looking between the girl at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid's angry, red face, and Dumbledore's happy one.
"Hello there Remus. How yer doing today?" Hagrid replied, sounding rather strained. He looked strained too, because at the moment he wouldn't have been surprised to see steam coming out of the Professor's ears.
"Better than you it seems. What was all that about?"
"Oh that," Hagrid said angrily. "That would be abou' Kalliandra bein' difficult. Found a book she apparently got at the book shop, but they wouldn't be a-sellin' that kinda book in Diagon." The half-giant looked like he was scowling. "Guessin' she went er…snoopin' aroun' Knockturn Alley t'day. Only 'arry lied for her so I'm not bettin' anything good about that." He gave a pregnant pause. "Now who do yer reckon was meant to be Borgin's first victim terday?"
Remus shot a sidelong look towards Dumbledore. "So Borgin was found hexed in his shop today," Remus stated casually. "I can only assume that was Harry's work."
Hell, he found himself almost proud.
Dumbledore seemed unperturbed by both implications. "Hrm…curiouser and curiouser."
Remus snorted.
Hagrid just made angry, grumbling sounds. "Couldov gotten 'erself killed if it hadn't been fer 'arry."
"True, but she didn't."
"I suppose it's only natural for her to seek out information, and what better place than there? Wouldn't you agree Hagrid?"
Hagrid shook his head, sending his scruffy hair awry. "No sir. Even had she not fallin' into that trap, she shouldn' hafta be findin' things out dat way. It woulda bin all me fault."
"No use working yourself up about things that did not happen Hagrid," Dumbledore consoled, offering a reassuring smile.
"And what about 'arry?" Hagrid was asking. "If he's been lyin'-"
"Oh, I would imagine Harry has had to lie about quite a few things, Hagrid. It is a part of being a youth. I would not worry much."
Remus continued listening to the ensuing conversation, but his attention was elsewhere as he turned to see Kalliandra standing next to a thestral, which was profusely nuzzling her like a long, lost friend. Thestrals weren't exactly dangerous, but they weren't exactly friendly either.
One would never know how she had barely clung to life only weeks before.
He shook the images away.
"Hagrid what exactly is she doing?" He was having a hard time standing idly by with a thestral's sharp teeth nuzzling so close to his future pupil's neck.
"Oh," Hagrid huffed out, still sounding slightly annoyed. "That there be Silverthorne. He's a thestral."
"Well I can see that. I meant what is she..." he grasped for the right word unsuccessfully.
"Doing?" Dumbledore supplied amusedly.
"Yes," he replied embarrassedly. Sometimes the simplest word was what he was looking for.
"She bloody well talks to him more than she bloody talks to me," Hagrid grumbled. "Tells him everythin' from the looks of it and ye should see them, traversing' around at all hours of the day. Real spitfire that one is! Bloody well good luck teachin' her Remus. Bin havin' enough trouble gettin' Care of Magical Creatures down 'er throat and she actually likes that. Can't imagine how she'll be with somethin' like Potions or Astronomy."
"You mean to say that she gets on well with an animal?" he mused, interrupting Hagrid's ramble.
"To hell with it! You'd think she actually understood what that one be sayin' half da time!" Hagrid muttered exasperatedly, a wounded look on his face. "She'll talk to that there animal and get to arguin' with me!"
Remus was thoughtful for a moment. "So she likes animals of the night..." he commented, turning to face both of them. "Well, then I won't have too much trouble then, now will I?"
Dumbledore nodded in agreement, smiling to himself. He couldn't have picked a more perfect person to tutor her. Now let's see if he can save her, he thought to himself, silently hoping for the best.
ECOTS
"She bloody set it free?" Ron exclaimed in disbelief.
Harry nodded, chucking his newly bought school books onto his bed in Grimmauld Place. "That's what I said wasn't it?"
"But...it's an owl!" Ron stammered, clearly not getting it. "You can't set an owl free, can you? I mean...they like...fly..."
"Very good Ron. Glad to see you know that a bird can fly," Hermione interjected, rolling her eyes as she entered their room, setting herself down onto the corner of his bed. "Harry maybe you could explain again, using small words so Ronald could understand?"
Harry closed his eyes and sighed, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. His head was pounding and a headache was coming on. They'd taken the Knight Bus back, and he'd been knocked around enough to know it was really just the universe in its latest sadistic attempt to render him unconscious.
And now they were back, at Grimmauld, packing for Hogwarts. And Harry really wasn't feeling it. That usual welling of anticipation was absent.
Then again, the repeated attempts on his life there probably had something to do with it.
Sirius was dead. Voldemort was alive. People, like Cedric, were still dying. Somehow going to classes, trying to pretend that things were normal, didn't hold the appeal it once had.
And for some reason Ron was hung up on Kaylens setting a bird loose.
He'd went back to Madam Malkins with Hagrid and Kaylens, and sure enough there'd been an owl there, waiting for her, in a cage.
It had started screeching at her, immediately. It'd launched itself at the bars and bit them, rattling the cage so hard the lock nearly broke clean off. And the hell of it was it didn't stop until Kaylens had backed away, slowly.
Hell, had Harry not seen the entire interaction himself he would have thought she'd baited it.
But she hadn't. All she'd done was cautiously look at it, and once it'd started hissing and screeching…well…
She'd looked scared.
Hagrid had been talking to Madam Malkin, fumbling with something in his pocket, so the part-giant had missed the entire thing. But Harry hadn't. Kaylens had just stood there, staring at it, as if thinking very hard on something. Then a something strange had crossed her expression, and after a few moments she'd sucked in a breath, strode back to the cage, and hit the latch.
The owl had burst out of it with borderline violence, barreling straight into her before launching itself up and into the sky to get away from her.
It'd left Kaylens sitting on the ground, covered in feathers.
He'd personally just been gaping. He'd never seen an owl act like that.
Ron had missed it, given he'd still been swathed in a literal roll of fabric.
And now his best mate was a bit hung up on it, for some reason.
"Come on Hermione, even you've gotta admit that's barmy. You just don't go around setting your familiars free."
Hermione opened her mouth, and Harry cut her off. "I would think," he suggested, "we'd be a bit more focused on what Riddle's doing."
Hermione's head snapped around, and she took a sharp breath, giving him a tight nod. "Well of course. I just…" she glanced fleetingly at Ron. "He's not wrong. It does sound a bit odd, but…"
"Hermione," he muttered.
She winced. "Right, priorities. Of course." She looked down at her hand, a rolled up paper clutched between her fingers. The entire thing looked crushed.
That alone caught Harry's attention.
A second later Hermione had shoved it directly in front of his nose, Harry going slightly cross-eyed as he tried to read it.
"Blimey 'Mione, how do you expect us to read it when you're moving it around?" Ron groused, snagging the newspaper with a loud crinkle.
Hermione just sent him an annoyed look. "Sorry for not realizing you expected me to hold it still," she said with an eye roll, settling back onto the corner of the bed, a vexed crease overtaking the space between her eyes.
Harry recognized that look. "Hermione?"
His best friend's brown irises flickered worriedly. "I found it downstairs when we got back. There's been more attacks."
His pulse quickened. "Oh?" his throat felt dry.
Hermione nodded, a lock of hair slipping in front of her eyes. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Leprechauns and elves, sirens…" Harry's viridian gaze remained firmly fixed upon her, watching her suddenly shake herself, as if suppressing a shudder.
"Blimey," Ron muttered, sounding stunned.
Ron plopped down onto the bed, and Harry leaned over to scan the front page. On it was a moving photograph depicting the husk of a burnt out cottage, an incredibly short, red-bearded man leaning over an equally short, red-haired woman, his out-of-proportion hand rubbing her back as he tried to shield her from the obnoxiously bright flash coming from the Prophet's camera-wizard.
The Dark Mark gleamed above the thatch-roofed home's remains. A snake slithered through the skull's empty eye sockets, darting in and out of the gleaming construct's gaping, deadened mouth.
It was like it was mocking the sobbing parties beneath it.
In the debris the wrecked remnants of a child's crib could be seen, Harry's gut clenching.
Ron gulped audibly. "Three leprechauns killed outside Killarney," he read aloud. "Death Eaters suspected. Blimey…Ministry's doing jack shit aren't they?" His best mate frowned and looked up. "What's Killarney?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, a tiny smile touching both their faces despite the darkness.
Hermione quickly turned her attention to Ron with an eye roll. "Honestly, Ron," she said, "it's a town in Ireland. How is it that you managed to grow up in England and not learn the major cities in neighboring countries?"
Ron just gave an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders, glancing at the paper again with a peculiar expression. "Never came up."
Hermione made some kind of tutting sound, Harry snagging the paper before the two could get too far engaged in a renewed round of bickering. Quickly he scanned the article, his stomach dropping further.
Suspected Death Eaters had invaded a predominantly leprechaun village just outside of Killarney, but only two of the homes had been targeted.
The hybrid child of an elf and leprechaun had been taken, and two other leprechauns had been killed trying to help. The elf-mate of one of those leprechauns had also died at the scene of 'internal injuries inflicted by a battering ram curse.'
It had to be the kid's parents.
Harry kept reading.
The reporter spoke of recent attacks on sirens in the Grecian Ionian Sea, but whether or not there had just been deaths, or if anyone had been taken remained – as of yet – inclusive. The close relatives of the merpeople preferred their privacy and had apparently scared off the reporter with the liberal use of tridents.
Harry's chest thundered sickeningly. Voldemort. Moody, in one of the few conversations they'd had that summer, had filled him in, in spite of Mrs. Weasley's protests. Voldemort was targeting magical species, but for what?
"It's awful, isn't it?" Hermione's curly hair was literally everywhere. "Anyone with any type of mixed heritage could be a target." She shook her head. "I know it's the Prophet and we can't always trust what they print but…Harry this sounds like something he'd do, doesn't it?"
The family on the front cover continued to sob, the black and white photograph haunting.
Harry suddenly understood why Hermione had crumpled it in her hand. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah it does."
Ron dropped the paper onto his knees, looking pensive. "So if he's making a play for part-creatures-"
Harry's teeth gritted. "He is."
"-then that explains what you and that girl overheard today then, doesn't it? That they were trying to lure a bunch of part-humans to Borgin to abduct, right? He's trying to gather as many as he can, like he's building up a bloody collection or something."
Harry tried to not think about how horrifying that prospect was.
Hermione looked pale.
Ron just looked mad. "I bet that girl was helping them, Harry." He crunched the paper and smacked it on his leg. "You said she was at his shop. That's too bloody convenient."
Hermione's head snapped up to stare at them both.
Harry just rubbed at the back of his neck. "He attacked her, Ron."
"Yeah, but you said she didn't even draw her wand to defend herself. What kind of person just stands there and lets someone hex them? I'll tell you who: someone who knows they aren't actually going to get hexed." Ron paused, frowning. "She's in on it, Harry. I bet Borgin saw you listening in and that whole 'attack' thing was just to throw you off their scent."
Harry's stomach jolted.
Ron might have a point.
"Don't you think that's all a little bit too conspiracy-like?" Hermione said, eyeing them both as if they'd just presented her with a squirrel and insisted that it was a Crumple Horned Snorkack. "I mean Harry, you said the witch is our age."
Ron scoffed. "So is Malfoy, 'Mione."
Shit. Ron was making a lot of good points.
Harry took a deep breath and let soothing waves of pain wash over his skull. Hermione said something but he missed it.
Ron, however, didn't.
His best mate just shook his head vehemently and looked up, presumably to make a counter argument against whatever Hermione had just said, only he stopped mid-syllable.
Then he just stared at her, looking strangely like a fish with protruding eyes.
Despite everything Harry choked back a laugh. Clearly Ron had just noticed what Hermione was wearing.
Pajamas. Short pajama shorts. While it didn't exactly do anything for him, even he could admit that Hermione's legs did look good.
She frowned, oblivious. "Ron are you alright? You look…ill."
Ron tried to say something, but all that accomplished was his mouth falling further open.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You can almost pass for a goldfish like that."
For someone so smart she really was oblivious. Harry bit back a chuckle.
Ron's mouth snapped shut. "Hermione," he blurted, still wide-eyed, "when'd you start dressing like a girl?"
Harry instantly winced.
And then the explosion occurred.
He tuned it out. After all, it wasn't altogether unsurprising. The two had been bickering all afternoon. Hell, even he'd been bickering with Hermione.
After separating from Hagrid and Kaylens, they'd met back up with her, and Hermione, forever insufferably logical, had insisted they recount the entire afternoon word for word. So they had. At least she'd admitted that the circumstances had sounded suspicious, but she'd been quick to point out that they were both overreacting based on 'circumstantial evidence.'
She'd then subjected them both to a long lecture about how wrong it was to eavesdrop, and how they should have gone to the one of the Aurors the instant they'd seen a Death Eater.
Ron had been quick to point out that he'd had nothing to do with it.
Harry had just disagreed with her, strongly. The Ministry wasn't exactly trustworthy these days, and like hell was he trusting a random Auror over Hagrid.
He'd also been damn quick to point out that if he hadn'tdecided to eavesdrop, then Kaylens might no longer have a head. Besides, Hermione'd had no issues when Malfoy had been the one he was eavesdropping on, so she clearly didn't mind the tactic.
That reminder had earned him a sharp tut and another tangent about how he should have done more to make the new witch feel welcome. In her opinion, if Hagrid and Dumbledore were alright with her, then they should be too. End of story.
Ron had kindly pointed out that Hagrid also trusted Aragog, all dragons including Hungarian Horntails, and that he considered his little brother to be 'tame.' End of story.
It was right about then that Ron had made the mistake of calling Kaylens several choice names, including a 'plain, ugly witch,' which earned an infuriated round from Hermione about how 'ridiculously superficial' they were being.
Harry was unable to follow her entire tirade, but it ended with her concluding that both of them seemed to be 'blatantly misjudging' the girl on looks alone.
Harry had some thoughts on that, strong thoughts, but he sure as hell hadn't been about to voice them. But the one thing he intractably knew was that he hadn't misjudged her because of her looks.
In fact, he might have done the opposite, given he and Ron had very different opinions there.
Very, very different opinions.
Yeah, Kaylens might be plain as fuck, but when she'd touched him….
Shit.
He'd about crawled out of his skin.
And the way she'd looked in that dress…he couldn't get it out of his damn head.
Yeah, if he was prejudicing her on looks alone he would have been treating her like Ron did Fleur Delacour, rather than like the Black Plague.
Fortunately Harry did not mention any of these thoughts, got smart, and went quiet.
He wished he could say the same for Ron though.
Back in Diagon Alley Ron must have hit a nerve, and Hermione had went off on a tirade for…well for awhile. It'd lasted from the Magical Menagerie, straight through the Leaky Cauldron, all the way to boarding the Knight Bus.
And now the temporary truce seemed to be ending. Harry had blocked out whatever Hermione had snapped, but his best mate clearly hadn't.
Ron managed to snap his mouth shut, stood up, and snatched up a pair of slightly wrinkled robes. "Still in a fine mood I see," he grumbled, shoving them into the top dresser drawer.
Hermione's nose wrinkled in obvious disgust. "Aren't you even going to hang those up?"
"Why?"
"So you don't look like you don't care about your appearance maybe?"
"Why?" Ron muttered, just a bit dourly. "Not like I have anyone to impress."
Harry caught the slightly downtrodden note in Ron's voice.
Unfortunately Hermione didn't.
"Of course," Hermione said, and now it was her turn to sound wounded. "It's not like there are any girls here you'd be concerned about."
"Unfortunately," Ron muttered beneath his breath.
"What was that?"
Harry about groaned out loud. How the hell were they both missing the point? Even he had caught on, and that was saying something.
"Nothing Hermione," Ron replied with exaggerated formalness. He turned around, fixed her with a look, and changed tactics. "I was just saying what a lovely job you did defending that uptight, Slytherin bound witch."
"I highly doubt she is Slytherin bound."
Ron was keeping his eyes determinedly on Hermione's face. "She snuck off and had a secret conversation with a Death Eater, Hermione. She's Slytherin-bound. Besides, you heard what Harry said about her."
"Yes," Hermione said, "I did. And it sounded like he was a bit rude-"
Harry let out a groan.
"-and made her feel unwelcome."
Harry shot Ron a glare. He did not want to get brought back into this. Not to mention the two of them were doing a fine job of escalating he and Kaylens conversation. Hell, from the way the two made it sound, it sounded like they'd been at one another's throats.
They hadn't, but hell, he wasn't sure even Ron would believe him at that point.
"And I met her for only five minutes and could tell she was-"
"Was what? You can't tell anything about a person after only meeting them for five minutes."
"You didn't even meet her," Ron shot back, his face growing slightly red as he flopped angrily down onto the bed across from his, staring pointedly up at the ceiling.
"At least I'm not passing judgement on a complete stranger."
At this point Harry was pretty fucking positive they were arguing just for the sake of arguing. Either that, or it was some twisted form of foreplay.
Fuck. He needed obliviated. Now.
"You are too!" Ron challenged. "You're passing judgement, same as me. Just because it happens to be a positive judgment doesn't mean that it's not a judgment."
"All I'm saying is that she knows Hagrid already, so we should at least give her a chance. Think about it, what kind of students does Dumbledore have Hagrid bring to Hogsmeade? For all we know she doesn't even have a fami-"
Hermione stopped abruptly, glancing over at him guiltily.
Harry grunted. "It's fine, Hermione."
She still looked guilty, but….
She had a point.
Harry was still trying to think that over when Ron started in again.
"They didn't sound very friendly to me did they Harry?" Ron asked, directing his question at him.
He really had to thank them for always bringing him into this shit. He rolled over on his bunk to look between Ron and Hermione's expectant expressions. He braced himself for the retaliation that was about to come.
"They did at the robe shop..." Hermione's face broke into a triumphant grin, but he quickly added, "but I couldn't tell at the pet store." Hermione's face fell as Ron let out a triumphant woot.
"See Hermione?"
"Yes, I do see Ronald," she said calmly. Too calmly. "I see someone who is immature and way too eager to pass judgment on anyone but himself." She stood abruptly. "If that closed minded brain of yours is actually capable of intelligent thought, then try to remember that you passed judgment on me in our first year too and were wrong." She spun on her heel, stomping loudly. "If you can remember that is. But hopefully the effort to think is not too taxing, it'd be a pity if your head exploded!"
The last part was shouted.
Actually shouted.
Harry's ears felt like they were about to bleed, and with another long suffering groan he rubbed at his head.
Hermione stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Only after the walls shook for a second time, Hermione's door slamming across the hall, did Ron sit up to talk to him. "It is just me or does she seem a bit moody?"
The door to their room flew upon, revealing a livid looking Hermione.
An uncharacteristically livid Hermione.
"I can't believe you!" she yelled angrily, looking ready to hex Ron at any moment.
Ron's grin vanished, his face slightly pale. "But...your door shut...how did you..."
"A door can be slammed by someone from either side, like from the hallway Ronald," she snapped, this time leaving the door wide open as she stormed off, granting them both quite a view of the lacy short-like-undergarments under her night shorts as she vigorously flung her own door behind her this time.
Ron was right on her heels, like usual. "Mione come on! I said I'm sorry!"
"No you didn't!" came Hermione's shrill, but muffled reply.
"Well I just..."
Harry tuned them out. Again. This had happened three times just that week, all when something trivial set one or the other off, and it always escalated into this melee. Usually Ron wound up standing outside her door, pleading for forgiveness, like he could now hear him doing.
He rolled over and tugged the pillow over his head. He sincerely hoped Ron asked her out soon, because he wasn't sure how many more of their bickering induced headaches he could take.
Not to mention if they didn't get a hold of themselves the Order was never going to think they were responsible enough to be told a damn thing, and Harry sure as hell wasn't going down with them.
The fact that he'd even thought that was mildly horrifying.
