Author's Note: This chapter has been rewritten as of January 2020 and the early plot points changed. Thank you to Nauze and SammyBlueGA for beta reading this chapter!
Chapter 4 – Hag? What Hag?
"When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it."
~ Henry Ford
ECOTS
The train ride should have gone better.
In truth, it was a Merlin-damned cluster fuck.
"What do you mean there's a hag on board?"
Harry had his trunk half hefted into the train's luggage compartment and half resting on his leg when his best mate made this pronouncement. As such the handle slipped from his grip and he outright dropped it.
It nearly took off his foot – would have, if it weren't for Lupin's quick wand work.
Harry didn't even manage a thanks. He just stared at the last remaining link to his father, to his godfather, to anyone that constituted real family, and blinked several times to make sure that the sleep deprivation, courtesy of a one-night special tag team event from Voldemort and the fallout from his best mates' bickering, hadn't started causing him to hallucinate.
Ron was eyeing the train like it was a transfigured basilisk in disguise, fingering his wand.
Hermione was gnawing worriedly on her lower lip, her items already tucked safely into the train, neat and proper and on time, like usual. "Professor," she started carefully-
"I haven't been your Professor in a long while, Hermione. Please, call me Remus."
She stopped mid-sentence, her lips partway open, looking mildly scandalized.
Harry outright snorted. "You might've broken her, Moony."
Hermione's mouth snapped shut, sending him an irritated look.
Harry just waggled his eyebrows.
She looked even more scandalized.
Lupin just smirked, amused.
Harry added 'calling ex-professors by informal names' to his running tally of shit Hermione wasn't good at, right next to house elf rights speeches, not pissing off her dorm mates, coexisting peacefully with Ron, and taming her hair on a regular basis.
As it was, Hermione closed her mouth, and got a hold of herself. "It's just, don't hags…" She shot an uneasy glance towards the swiftly filling compartments, the throng of students rolling into them in a steady wave. "Don't they have a tendency to eat children?"
Ron's head snapped towards the train.
Moony simply nodded. "Perceptive question, Hermione."
Harry eyed the man like the werewolf he was. No, that wasn't perceptive. It was a very, very relevant question. And if Lupin said anything other than 'no, this one just got out of the Hansel and Gretel Rehab Program and is completely reformed', he was going to start questioning his surrogate uncle's sanity.
Lupin offered a benign smile "Yes, Hermione. Children are their meal of choice. They are considered a delicacy on the level of caviar."
Ron made a strangled sound.
Harry just glanced at the train and wondered if St. Mungo's took direct admissions this early in the morning.
Lupin kept talking, not helping his case. "The younger the better, though when starved for prolonged time periods they're often willing to indulge in humans well into their twenties, so long as their skin has retained that youthful elasticity common with proper collagen fibers. I suppose not being on the menu could be an arguable benefit for premature wrinkles…"
Harry didn't hear the rest of Moony's explanation. He rapidly classified that into the 'do not want to know' column of his sleep-deprived brain and yawned. Between Ron and Hermione's bickering and Voldemort's nightly head invasions, his 'giving a fuck gauge' was empty. It was drained, straight down to zero.
He had enough things trying to kill him. He simply couldn't get worked up about adding a hag let loose on the Hogwarts Express to the list.
If one came near him, he'd blow their head off. It was that simple.
He did have one pertinent question about it though.
"Curious," he asked, "decapitation? That work for killing a hag or do we have to go for something more subtle?"
Hermione made an upset sound.
Lupin simply frowned. "I hardly think a hag on board would require quite that level of extremism, Harry."
He body checked his trunk into the storage compartment. "Why the fuck is a hag on a train full of first years then?"
"HARRY! Language!"
He shot Hermione an extra special look all of his own. "Last time I checked, Hermione, the Headmaster frowned upon things trying to eat his students." He paused and grimaced. Then again…Aragog, three-headed dogs, basilisks, and dragons in the Triwizard tournament fired through his skull in quick succession. His jaw set in a hard, firm line. "Well at least he should, treatment of me not-withstanding."
Then again, maybe it wasn't that Dumbledore didn't give a shit about him, as evidenced by his decade and a half long stint at Camp Dursley. Maybe the Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, Order of Merlin-wearing, sadistic-ass-Headmaster of a school for children just thought Harry was up for the task of continued abuse and repeat attempts on his life.
Yeah, right.
Hermione was eyeing him with one of those worried looks only females could master. "Harry," she started carefully, "I don't think Dumbledore ever meant-"
He scoffed. "Save it."
Really, he wasn't in the mood for another one of her pro-Dumbledore speeches. Harry still wasn't completely certain how he felt about the bastard. If he'd just told him about the mind-connection between him and Voldemort, or if he'd just taught him Occlumency himself rather than assigning him to a greasy git so emotionally stunted that he'd take out a feud with a dead man on the aforementioned man's son decades later, all because the pretty girl hadn't picked him, well…
Then Sirius might not be dead.
With one last shove and grunt the bottom of the trunk jolted over the metal lip of the storage compartment and flew in. Harry fell in after it, bashing into his trunk with an audible oomph.
Ron snorted.
Lupin chuckled.
Hermione's mouth opened in a mild 'O', looking like she was about to ask if he was alright.
He cut her off at the pass and squirmed until he got comfortable. His back rested on the trunk, his feet braced against the actual platform. He was half in the storage compartment and half not, leaning fully on the chest full of clothes.
If the train started moving he'd slip and fall between the platform and train, no doubt getting run over on the tracks, but hell, swift death by steam engine would at least solve his 'lack of sleep' problem.
And on the plus side, he'd not have to worry about saving any first years from 'death by hag.'
Harry folded his arms over his chest and fixed them all with a rather cavalier look. "Well?"
"I'm with Harry on this one." Ah Ron, ever the friend. Harry gave a tired fist pump as a sign of thanks, Ron thudding his chest in return as a sign of solidarity. "Dumbledore ought to frown on that potential-death-causing shit but doesn't, now does he?"
Hermione closed her eyes and began counting the digits of pi.
Lupin let out a resigned sigh, a flick of his wand casting a privacy bubble around them, presumably to keep prying ears from overhearing.
Why he hadn't done that earlier – like when he'd shown up out of the blue to see them off, him and nearly the rest of the Order – Harry would never know.
Hazel eyes darted meaningfully over them. "I don't think I need to impress upon you three the importance of keeping certain information to yourselves?" His eyes moved between them, holding each of them in turn. "And I do doubt, Harry, that Dumbledore's intentions have ever been to have something swallow you whole, as you seem to be implying."
He gave a nonchalant shrug. "When the shoe fits."
"Harry, Professor Lupin is right. That wasn't his intention."
Once again he ignored Hermione.
Lupin studied him, expression oddly unreadable. If he had to put a descriptor to it, he supposed he'd call it 'sad.'
The wizard let out another sigh and dropped it, instead deflecting, "To answer your earlier question, Harry, the hag is traveling with you for her safety."
"Uh huh," Ron said, skeptical as fuck.
"Additionally," Lupin continued, "I don't recall saying a hag was the only potentially dangerous species on board."
That took a second to sink in.
And then it did.
There was an important plural in there.
"You said species," he said, emphasis on the 's'.
"Indeed Harry," Lupin said in uncanny impersonation of Dumbledore. Before he could say anything else, farther off on the platform there was a loud clatter, the werewolf's eyes sliding to the side a bit warily.
It was Tonks, in her buxom brunette form, wearing a disturbingly low cut shirt.
As a result one of the seventh year males had stopped dead in his tracks to stare, and several chattering second years had pushed their carts headlong into him.
The subsequent chaos had caused a toad, two cats, and one screech owl to get loose. Tonks perched herself atop the seventh year's trunk and fanned herself in mock Southern belle fashion.
Judging from the wizard's open mouthed expression, Harry wondered if anyone here was even remotely capable of treating a heart attack.
Moony sighed, and Harry whipped his attention back to the wolf. "Define what you mean by species," Harry repeated, once again adding emphasis to the s, "and maybe in the details section of your report throw in how many are likely to devour us."
Something glinted in the werewolf's eye, a spark of life that seemed, fuck-it-all, amused. "Multiple magical variants," he said evasively, "and of them? Oh, I don't know, perhaps two or three. It truly depends, Harry. Are you planning to poke any of them with a stick?"
Right. Harry was going to stay right here in the storage compartment. It was safer. He'd just roll on into it and they could shut him in with the stuffy trunks.
Each and every single time an alleged adult opened their mouth, the ideas coming out got worse and worse. "So," he said, "we're keeping with that grand tradition of finding increasingly creative ways to get the student body killed then?" He folded his arms over his chest. "Or, you know, since we keep escaping death despite all odds, maybe Dumbledore got bored and decided to level up a bit?"
Harry wasn't bitter. Nope. Not at all.
"Playing video games this summer I take it?" Lupin asked.
He snorted, derisive. "Not unless you count Uncle Vernon trying to beat me over the head with one."
Remus Lupin, werewolf extraordinaire, looked alarmed.
"How'd you think my summers were going?" he baited. "All family meals and happy smiles? Maybe a bit of, 'Hey Harry glad to see you survived. Again. How was the rest of your school year? Play much Quidditch? Oh that's right, I'm banned."
Ron shook his head. "There's no way McGonagall's letting that hold up, Harry. She wants to rub the House Cup in Snape's greasy face even more than we do."
Harry snorted. Out of all of that – the implications of child abuse, Headmaster-manipulations, and Quidditch – Ron had seized upon the most important part.
Quidditch. Obviously.
Harry could at least respect Quidditch. Quidditch gave them giant fucking bats and teammates of questionable sanity to fight back with. He had a sporting chance, which was more than he could say for the 'Harry hunting' his cousin used to do.
Then again, saving his ass from dementors last year had created a lot of what normal folks called 'good will.' Dudley had been downright tolerable this summer. Hell, he'd even slipped him some snacks under his door. Granted he'd checked them for poison prior to consuming…
Too bad he couldn't say the same for his Uncle.
Hermione seemed to be studying the carriages closely, as if seeking out the hags' living quarters.
Harry just hissed a breath through his teeth. "So…creatures are on board. And we thought this was a good idea why?"
Hermione stopped counting and took a deep breath. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation." She glanced towards Lupin rather pleadingly. "Right?"
Harry snorted, the sound so derisive it was a wonder Hermione didn't give him detention there on the spot. He could see the write up now: disrespect towards a former Professor.
Irregardless, Lupin actually answered. "On board we have two part hags-"
"There's two of them?" Ron sounded happy. Oh so happy.
"-a twenty something year old witch from Greece with siren ancestry-"
Now Ron looked interested. Hermione glared.
"-and twins from Wales possessing the natural ability to speak Mermish. They do not have any known ancestry, however the chances of having this as an innate talent without something in distant ancestral DNA are remote. They need to get to a safe house we have established in Hogsmeade, so this was the most expedient way."
Hermione stopped glaring at Ron long enough to look skeptical.
Ron didn't bother with the subtle nuances of nonverbal language. He spoke straight from the gut, like always. "And that's our problem why? Couldn't the hags just Floo? Or apparate? Or better yet stick them on a broom and send them that way?"
"The Floo network has a bit of a…nasty tendency to rearrange their internal organs," Moony said with a frown. "I'm rather afraid their premature aging has some similarities to a Muggle mutation called Progeria. It's a nasty disease. Children often succumb from it in their early teens, but to simplify the explanation, the cell nucleus becomes weakened and cellular division becomes nearly impossible. The end result is the appearance of rapid aging and a shortened lifespan." He paused. "Hags can stave this off by eating the flesh of the young, but unfortunately it makes long-distance travel for them rather dangerous."
Hermione was hanging on every word.
The privacy bubble thrummed reassuringly around them. It was reassuring, mildly, because it lowered the chance of anyone overhearing and declaring them certifiably insane. Because really, that was the last thing Harry needed: Skeeter overhearing and publishing another fucking article, closely followed by an incompetency trial and a St. Mungo's bed right next to Lockhart.
At least Luna would probably visit.
Yeah.
Probably.
"-so you see why travel via any other means, beyond the more Muggle methods, would be somewhat life threatening to their cellular integrity, Mr. Weasley," Moony finished.
Ron choked.
Harry just grunted, finally abandoning the crawl spot that was looking more and more like an excellent place to spend the train ride. He glanced around the platform, took quick stock of the number of Order members scattered about, some inconspicuous and some not, and felt a suspicious pit coiling in his gut.
He fixed Moony with a firm look. "Got it. Order is overstretched and you lot figured it'd be easier to just transport all of us at once, since you have to watch out for the students anyway. And if one or two of us become collateral damage that's fine, so long as Riddle doesn't get his hands on any more magic."
The words were practically spat; bitter, with a side of spite.
Moony simply studied him with a long look. "I suppose that does sum the situation up, Harry," he said, rather diplomatically. "Perhaps a bit….crudely, but accurate. Minus the part about us not caring about collateral damage."
Harry scoffed, the sound damn derisive. He didn't doubt that Lupin cared, but after last year, after Dumbledore had kept so much shit from him…
Sirius was dead. Had Dumbledore just told him what was going on, maybe he wouldn't be.
Hermione had gone strangely silent, thoughtful. She stepped in just a bit closer, as if apprehensive the privacy bubble would fail if she stood too close to its edges. "Professor-"
"Remus, please. Lupin or Moony are also acceptable alternatives if the latter proves too taxing."
She paused, then shook her head, pressing, "If you were all planning this, then why are we only finding out about this now?" Her forehead furrowed. "Wouldn't it have been safer to simply tell us last night? Before we left Grimmauld?"
"Ah, that."
Oh great. Lupin was 'ah that-ing' them.
That never boded well.
"Until this morning we were unaware this was the plan."
Hermione's lips were already parting to ask her next question-
"And if you are curious why you were not informed en route, well…we had to raise the suspicion of the would-be Death Eaters somehow." Lupin's look turned shrewd, words lowered, meaningful. "Why else would we wait to discuss this under a very obvious privacy charm in full view of the public, with the students who infamously broke into the Department of Mysteries no less?"
It took Harry precisely three fucking seconds to figure it out, and when he did a cold pit of dread dropped into his stomach.
His muscles went rigid. So did Hermione's.
Ron just chomped on a crisp.
Children and their families bustled around at high speeds, carts shoved and smothering hugs given. Sunlight streamed down through the amber and clear paned glass that arched high above, forming the station's unconventional roof. And all Harry could do was clench his fist, a deep-seeded anger at Dumbledore rising up. Slowly.
Inside the privacy bubble it became deadly quiet.
Hermione was the one to finally break it.
"You said 'would-be' Death Eaters," she repeated, looking incredibly cautious. "So you're saying that Vo-vol-that he's recruiting students then?"
Lupin merely grimaced, a kind of weariness in his eyes. "It is the same as last time, Miss Granger. I am rather afraid that he looked for ranks amongst the upper years then as well."
Harry's gaze shot across the platform, seeking out each and every single Slytherin there, gaze landing on a head of slicked back, platinum blonde hair. "Malfoy," he muttered it like a curse.
Ron froze mid-chomp, gaze sharpening like lasers towards their Quidditch opponent. "What do you reckon? He's too thick to have learned from his father getting arrested?"
"He won't care. He'll think Voldemort," he ignored Hermione flinching, "will get him out."
And then something else occurred to him.
His head whipped back around to Lupin. "Please tell me you're not using the Hogwarts Express as bait."
Lupin gave a strained smile, and it was near carnivorous. "Only a little."
His chest went cold.
Students were Death Eaters.
Voldemort was trying to get more powerful, by using the blood and magic of human-creature hybrids.
There were human-creature hybrids on board.
And the Order had agreed to use them all as bait.
Harry dragged a hand across the top of his head, tugging at the black strands, one thought on his mind: shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Steam coiled out of the engine, twisting up towards the ceiling as the train began to make preparatory cracks and pops. A low whine began to emit as the conductor began the pre-journey checks, and the hustle of bodies around them titched up just a notch.
That deep pit swelled in his stomach.
"How many?" he demanded.
Harry didn't clarify what he meant beyond that. He didn't have to.
Death Eaters. They'd said 'would be Death Eaters.'
Harry needed to know how many.
Moony gave a grim smile. "More than Minerva was strictly comfortable with."
Shit.
Students frantically checked and double checked then triple checked to make sure they had everything.
Parents hugged their children just a little bit tighter.
Those same children squirmed away to shout to their friends about sharing compartments.
Footsteps pounded up the three short stairs leading to the various cars, students shoving and jostling one another, never knowing they were eagerly fighting to board a ride with Death Eaters.
Their fellow students were Death Eaters.
Shit wasn't a strong enough word. Harry mentally upgraded it to 'fuck' and vowed to use it, copiously, around Hermine.
For now Harry fixed Moony with a dead-eye stare. "Let me guess," he muttered, "you need us to help."
From off to the side something rustled, and Harry snared his wand and had it out and aimed before he'd even registered what the fuck he was doing.
A hand snared him by the wrist and shoved it down almost violently. "Friendly fire, Potter. We'll make an Auror out of you yet," came a disembodied growl. "Now put it away. Yer won't be needing that yet."
The tension bled out of him like blood from a sliced artery.
His shoulders relaxed, but his grip on the holly wood did not.
It didn't because staring at him from the other side of Mad Eye Moody's disillusioned form was Cho Chang.
Cho-fucking-Chang.
She'd been boarding the train, and for all intents and purposes it looked like he'd just thought about hexing the girl that'd dumped him.
Or had he dumped her?
It didn't matter. Through the blue tinge of the privacy dome he saw her startled eyes. She'd jumped back, nearly tripping into Marietta, and Harry just managed a weak grimace at them both.
Lacking anything else to say to explain why the hell he'd just leveled a wand at her, he soundlessly mouthed, 'Thought I saw a rat.'
Cho's dark eyes still looked startled, taken aback, but she nodded.
Then she quickly ducked her face, and Harry swore to high hell a light blush tinged her cheeks.
Double fuck.
Harry closed his eyes and let out a groan.
Ron and Hermione were still shooting identical looks towards the thin air where Moody's voice had come from.
"Stop looking my way, will ya? Destroys the element of surprise when yer trying to stay invisible," Moody hissed, muttering lowly about disillusionment charms being rendered useless by greenhorns who stared.
Hermione quickly obeyed, grabbing Ron by the sleeve and tugging him around with her as if engaged in deep conversation.
Moody let out a low growl. "Amateurs. Thought you said they were reliable, Remus?"
"They are," Lupin replied with an easy smile, keeping his eyes firm on Harry. "Perhaps if you didn't sneak up on the unsuspecting?"
"Yeah," Harry threw in with a dangerous smirk, "heard that's a great way to get your balls hexed."
A low laugh filled the air. "Pity yer didn't make it worse, Potter. Mungo's cleared up that testicular torsion a bit too quick in my book."
Ron's head jerked back around, the wizard repeating the words like the mere act of just saying them could inflict physical harm. "Testicular…torsion?"
"I hexed Mundungus' nads and they twisted clear around inside his ball sack," Harry said without batting an eye. "Bastard snuck up on me."
Ron twitched.
Hermione stopped pretending to be occupied. "I didn't realize there was a specific spell for that, Harry." She paused. "What spell did you use?"
"Happy accident. It was just a conveniently aimed stunner."
"Huh." Hermione shifted on her feet, looking thoughtful.
Harry flat out snorted. Ron better watch himself. He better really watch himself.
Judging from the way that Ron was not-so-discreetly adjusting himself, he must have realized that too.
Harry chuckled. Loudly. Then he turned his attention back to Lupin, who was speaking to the disembodied Moody without looking his way. "Upside, looks like we just found a way to informally neuter all the Death Eater scum while maintaining plausible deniability. Really Minister, it was just an 'accident'." He made air quotes.
Moody chuckled.
And then the Order filled them in on what they needed them to do.
It amounted to glorified babysitting.
Harry's jaw clenched, not particularly pleased with the development. He didn't exactly get a choice though, now did he?
There'd be Order members and Aurors stationed throughout the train, some disillusioned, some not.
They were expecting Death Eaters to make it on board.
Aurors were currently stationed at every car's entrance in an obvious attempt to make that more difficult, but Harry knew damn well it was a mere formality. If Death Eaters wanted on board, they'd get on board, even if it meant blowing the train off the tracks mid-trip.
As it was the Order needed an extra sets of eyes, so they'd asked Ron and Hermione to convince the prefects to patrol. They needed to make it as difficult as possible for any Death Eaters amongst the students to get away with 'snooping.'
Harry's job was to set up shop in the train's last compartment.
He didn't have to ask what was there.
Obviously the hags.
He heaved a heavy breath. "I get eaten before we get to Hogwarts," he said, addressing Ron and Hermione now, "Ron gets my broom. Hermione gets my books."
Hermione looked distinctly unhappy. "Harry, that's morbid."
He gave her a nonchalant shrug. "It's reality. Ron, you get my Firebolt and snitch."
And fuck it all if Ron didn't grin.
God damn't.
Now Hermione shot them both a disapproving look, her attention flipping back to Lupin. "Not that I'm questioning this, but why would-" she paused, as if steeling herself, "Voldemort want hags? Isn't he trying to bolster his magical prowess?"
Before Harry could even open his mouth to ask, Hermione was already explaining.
"Hags can't do proper magic, Harry. They age prematurely and are really just a failed mutation in magical evolution. I'm just not seeing what could possibly be useful about them."
"Yeah," Ron chimed in, frowning, "I mean, you lot are exposing kids to them."
Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Legally you are a kid, Ron."
He shot her a look. "And you're not?"
Hermione gave a complacent shrug. "I'm almost seventeen now, so technically no."
Ron stared at her for a count of three, and then shook his head in irritation, turning back to Lupin. "Alright, so why put them on the train? Why risk one going rogue and taking a bite out of a firstie's liver when the hags aren't in danger in the first place?"
Even Harry had to admit that was a very good question. Protecting the other partial beings made sense. Protecting hags though?
He didn't get it.
Remus raised his eyebrows, hazel eyes swiveling between them all for a long moment. "Are any of you perhaps familiar with the concept of deleterious effects on the genome providing insight into phenotypic manifestation?"
Of course Hermione nodded.
Of fucking course.
Even Moody snorted.
Harry glanced over at his best friend, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and quirked an eyebrow of his own. "Care to share with the class or am I just going into extra-special guard duty for something that'd sooner eat me than say hello. Because really, does wonders for my motivation."
He'd had enough of things trying to kill him. He wasn't quite grasping why protecting hags was so damn important, and he wasn't about to pretend otherwise.
Ron apparently agreed, leaning over to mutter, "Bit like getting asked to guard an acromantula, isn't it?"
Now it was Harry's turn to snort.
Both Hermione and Lupin shot them mild looks of disapproval, but it was the latter that bothered explaining.
"The concept," Lupin said, rather patiently, "is that when something goes wrong with the human body on a genetic level, by studying it and identifying what went wrong in the first place, you can pinpoint with a reasonable degree of certainty what that gene locus actually encoded."
"Say it was supposed to make a protein," Hermione said, "and the gene has mutated so it no longer makes it. Scientists can look at the resulting disease the person has and determine that that is what the protein typically prevents." She paused, crinkling her nose. "Of course that's grossly oversimplifying a rather complex physiological process, but you understand."
"Okay…" he purposefully drew the word out.
It was a wonder Hermione's eyes weren't stuck back in her skull, what with all the eye rolling. "Hags are magical but can't do proper magic, Harry. And they age way too fast. If Voldemort wants to increase his own magic and slow down aging all he has to do is study a hag whose DNA has merged successfully with a human's, look at what genes are 'messed up,'" and by god she used air quotes, "from genes found in a normal wizard, and he can make a reasonable approximation that those are the genes controlling magic and aging. Once he's done that he can work on figuring out how to reverse the effects."
Harry shouldn't be surprised by these things anymore. Really, he shouldn't.
At least it made sense now why the Order was protecting these particular hags. They were part human.
Which brought up a whole new set of seriously disturbing questions, but like hell was he asking those.
Ron lacked that same tact.
"What kind of bloody wizard would screw a hag?" he questioned loudly. "Seriously, that's bloody mental. I mean he'd have to stick his…his you know, into a-" he made a gesture that had Hermione shout RONALD, but his best mate just continued. Phrases like "bloody mental", "loonier than Lovegood", "bleeding blind", and "sadists" were liberally thrown in.
He also dropped a rather perverse, "And wouldn't their-" he said another word that had Hermione shout "-rot off if they, ya know, touched it?"
Naturally Hermione zeroed in on that.
The ensuing argument made him almost glad they'd be in the prefects' car. At least he wouldn't have to sit with them now.
With a resigned sigh Lupin dropped the privacy charm, apparently reading his mind. "I would wish you luck, Harry, but I sense that might be somewhat…futile." Moony paused, eyeing his two bickering friends, then tilted his head towards Harry somewhat conspiratorially. "Those two aren't dating by cha-"
Harry about choked on a snort.
Moony chuckled. "Well, I suppose that answers that."
Regrettably, right then, a familiar drawl just had to resound from behind them. "Like anyone would ever touch that. Weasel might be a blood traitor, but even he knows he'd get diseased from snogging that mess."
Harry saw black.
Apparently so did Ron.
Harry lunged at the same time as Ron, but Lupin had moved faster than either of them, dropping iron hands onto both their shoulders and jerking them back, only just stopping them from starting a full out brawl with the Slytherin. "I would hardly think one's parentage could contribute to a diseased state, Mister Malfoy," he stated calmly, "though I am somewhat concerned about your failure to grasp such basic concepts of epidemiology."
"Epi-what?" Malfoy snapped, eyeing them in distaste.
Harry gave a strong jerk in an effort to get away, only for Lupin's grip to tighten, the Marauder's mouth turning into a tightly controlled expression. "Perhaps you ought to ask your parents for some remedial lessons over the holiday?" he suggested rather calmly. "One of your status, Mister Malfoy, would not want to sound uneducated."
Lupin's acid tone and subtle dig at Malfoy's intelligence reminded him, abruptly, that the man had gotten along with his father during James' cruel stage for a reason.
A very good reason.
Harry stood there, every muscle taut, tight. He wanted to tear into the bastard, but Lupin was right. Now wasn't the time.
Besides him Ron flat out growled.
Hermione stood there, oddly silent, but Harry didn't miss how her hands had curled into tight fists.
"My edification," Malfoy drawled, "is just fine. But don't tell me they're letting you back." He said it as if it Moony were worse than an incurable disease. "You're a dirty werewolf."
Several alarmed younger years overheard, head's jerking in their direction, and Harry fixed them all with a dark look.
They scattered.
"Better that than a dirty wizard," Ron snarled. "Least he can take a potion for a bite. You're just bloody tainted, you snake-face-worshiping-"
In a rare display of werewolf strength Lupin jerked Ron back, cutting over him. "Of course not, Mr. Malfoy," Moony stated with pronounced calm. "I was merely in the area, and decided to wish some of my old students good luck on their upcoming year."
The words were said pleasantly enough, but Harry didn't miss the tense clipin them.
Harry's fists flexed, his gaze promising Malfoy retaliation later.
The Slytherin just muttered something foul, already whispering with Crabbe and Goyle, the words, my father heard about the cacophony of sounds the students made. The silver haired bastard turned, as if to board the train-
Only any control Harry'd had evaporated.
Malfoy's father had been there that night, at the Department of Mysteries.
Malfoy's father had helped kill Sirius.
"What aboutyour father, Malfoy?" Harry snapped loudly after him, loud enough to be heard over the students. "You two been in touch?" With a rough jerk he freed himself of Moony's grip, taking a step forward, hand very near his wand pocket.
"Remind me, Harry," Ron growled, "isn't consorting with dirty Azkaban convict scum illegal?"
"Reckon it is, Ron. And to think, he thinks he's an authority on who is and isn't dirty."
Moony let out a distinct sigh.
Malfoy and his two cronies froze, and Lupin cleared his throat in a silent request for them to both shush.
Harry ignored it, well aware that half the platform was staring at them. "You new students better be careful," he said to the platform at large, meeting Malfoy's icy gaze across the crowd, "you wouldn't want to get mixed up with the wrong sort. Lands you with a dementor sucking at your face and an egomaniac's tattoo on your arm."
"And a head full of grease."
"Yeah Malfoy," Harry practically spat, "can't help but notice that even though it's rather hot out, you seem to be wearing long sleeves. Funny, that."
Lupin made a resigned type of groan, cursing James and his apparent genetic-disposition for arguments beneath his breath.
Malfoy's grey eyes slid between them all, sliding to the gathering crowd, as if weighing his options. Then his upper lip curled, the wizard apparently having gotten at least mildly more intelligent over the summer. "I can't wait," Malfoy drawled, "for all you blood traitors to get yours. Then you'll see."
"Actually," cut in a terse-sounding voice, a head of bushy brown hair shoving past to stand between them, "blood traitors have the support of the Ministry now, Malfoy. Withholding the whereabouts of an escaped prisoner warrants a fifteen to twenty year sentence in Azkaban." Hermione's voice was molten steel, her eyes fixed into narrowed slits on Malfoy. "According to the Wizengamot, at least. They just signed it into law last week. There's even a reward out now for anyone with information on the escaped convicts, so long as they come forth willingly."
Hermione's brown eyes glittered with challenge, Ron and Harry both staring at her.
Ron recovered before he did, turning back to Malfoy. "Yeah, gonna turn your own daddy in, Malfoy? We all know how all you family loves is money and pow-OW!"
Remus had grabbed them both, again, and dug his fingertips deep into their shoulders, yanking them both backwards. "How about," he snapped, looking between them both sternly, "we don't antagonize the children of Death Eaters before the sorting has even occurred, yes?"
Harry grumbled something beneath his breath, but ended with, "Yeah, okay." His glower never left Malfoy though, the Slytherin shooting him a haughty, furious look as he hissed, "Mudblood lovers," at them, quickly vanishing into the crowd and onto the train.
Hermione made an angered sound, Ron's fists clenching as if he were imagining strangling someone with a pale, thin neck.
Lupin made sure to keep a tight grip on both of them until Malfoy was out of sight.
"Merlin, I wish someone would turn him into a ferret again," Hermione muttered, shaking her head. "I bet he'd laugh real hard when I fed him to Buckbeak."
Harry might have gaped had he not been imagining a dozen ways to off Malfoy without anyone noticing. Ron, however, gaped, looking a bit awed. Lupin's mouth simply twitched into a smile, even if it did not quite reach his eyes.
"Why Ms. Granger, I didn't realize we'd reached the level of outright murder so quickly this morning."
Hermione huffed, Ron muttering, "Buckbeak's too good for Malfo-OW!"
Harry had elbowed him silent as some seventh year Slytherins walked past, eyeing them suspiciously.
Mad Eye snorted from his disembodied position, Harry having no doubt that the ex-Auror had had a wand levelled at Malfoy the entire time.
"Really know how to make friends to start off the year, don't yer Potter?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered back tensely, "something like that."
But there wasn't time to dwell on all of that. Within moments they'd said their goodbyes and were boarding the train, Harry already tensed with a resigned acceptance that someone would surely try to kill him before the ride was over. Somehow the likelihood of getting all the way to Hogsmeade without something going wrong – very wrong – seemed slim.
He hadn't even gotten to the second step when Lupin called him back. "Harry?"
Harry stopped on the stairs, turned around, and quirked an eyebrow.
A strange look was on Moony's face. "Keep an eye on Kalliandra for me. I understand the two of you met in Knockturn?" The wolf smiled shrewdly. "Something about going to a bookshop you weren't supposed to be at?"
Harry went rigid.
Absolutely rigid.
Lupin didn't seem to notice. He just offered Harry a fatherly smile.
Harry's eyes locked onto the benign irises of his father's oldest friend, his entire body still tense from the encounter with Malfoy, and when he managed to school his vocal chords into actually working his voice was stiff. "You know each other," he ground flatly.
"Why of course, Harry. Why else would I make such a request of you?"
Harry stared, mouth slightly agape. Lupin not only knew about their little Knockturn adventure, but he somehow knew Kaylens. How the fuck could Lupin know someone who was allegedly already at Hogwarts?
Harry stared for just a second too long, because Lupin noticed. The man's brow creased, the wizard tilting his head to the side in a silent question.
Harry still didn't answer.
Down on the platform, just behind Moony, a kid ran past chasing a rat.
A rat.
Like Pettigrew.
The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up, and his grip crushed the railing, his knuckles growing white. A younger year, a Slytherin, shoved past him on the stairs, shooting him an annoyed look, but Harry barely noticed. Gut instinct, the same that had kept him alive year after year, each and every single time that the Order had failed him, churned.
He tried to think of something to say, anything, but a dozen thoughts were busy slicing through his skull with surgical precision.
Lupin knew Kaylens.
Somehow Lupin knew a witch, one that'd had a clandestine meeting with Borgins, on a day where Death Eaters had tried to lure and trap partial humans. Had the Aurors not shown up, any partial humans captured would have been taken straight to Riddle.
Riddle, who would treat them like lab rats.
Riddle, who would use them up.
Riddle who would kill them.
And if this witch, Kaylens, had been there…
She might have been helping them.
It was the only logical fucking explanation. Harry'd thought about it over and fucking over. Hell, he'd agonized in bed over it, unable to sleep due to Ron's incessant snoring. He'd tried to come up with another explanation, something that would fit with her having been in Diagon with Hagrid, but at the end of the day…
Kaylens wasn't a partial human. She sure as hell hadn't looked like one, and Harry had looked. Whether he wanted to admit it or not he had looked.
But she wasn't.
Yet she'd been there, with a Death Eater, and she'd given Borgins her hair.
Her actual, literal hair.
Why in the hell would Borgins have been interested in that?
Harry didn't need Hermione there to tell him something was wrong with this. All of it.
Harry hovered in that short, narrow stairwell leading up into the train. He knew what Hermione would say if she could hear him thinking. She'd tell him that anyone that Hagrid, Dumbledore, and now apparently Lupin, knew could be trusted. She'd tell him not to jump to conclusions.
But really…those three didn't exactly have the best track records. There'd been a time when even Moony had thought Pettigrew was the actual victim. He'd gladly watched Sirius sent to prison – wrongfully. Hell, Crouch had masqueraded as an ex-Auror and Professor right beneath Dumbledore's nose for a whole damn year. And Hagrid…
Well, Harry didn't want to get started on Hagrid. He'd need a whole fucking afternoon dedicated just to 'Hagrid's misjudgments on the self-control of hungry creatures' section alone.
And Kaylens knew all of them.
That niggling doubt gnawed at the back of his mind.
Lupin and Moody had said Voldemort was recruiting older students, and this witch…she had just shown up. Out of nowhere. At Hogwarts. And she had been consorting with Borgins.
And Lupin fucking knew her.
His father's last remaining friend, the one who should have been there for him all damn summer after Sirius died, yet had been there for a grand total of twenty minutes, because the Order had kept him busy, had still found time to know who Kaylens was.
A hot, green ball of jealousy coursed through him.
Not to mention…if Lupin had taken the time to know who she was, that didn't bode well for why she was there.
There were only two types of people the Order would take an interest in: victims and Death Eaters. And Kaylens…
Had been talking with Death Eaters.
Willingly.
Harry sucked in a hard, harsh breath between clenched teeth. And then, to Hermione's influence and fucking credit, he tried to be rational.
"Alright," he said, "you know her. How?"
For a moment Moony looked confused, but that expression quickly turned to dismay as a voice shouted from across the platform, interrupting any chance Harry had at getting a damn answer.
"Oi Moony!" Tonks barked. "You want to share a compartment with me? Get all cozy and play at 'dodge the hall prefect?'" She paused, and the smile she sent was terrifying. "Bet I could really make your tail waggle if-"
What she said next gave Harry, and every other student on the platform, a glimpse into an advanced curriculum of sex ed.
The look on Lupin's face indicated pure, unadulterated terror.
Right.
Moony and Tonks were clearly coming along for the ride.
And Tonks was all but hunting Moony.
And was sharing a compartment with him.
And now appeared to be asking a seventh year exactly 'how good' the locks on those things were.
Harry recoiled into the train with deep damn haste. He'd been mentally scarred enough for one day. Besides…
He had enough to fucking think about, without contemplating the depraved sex lives of Aurors and werewolves.
ECOTS
Bait.
She was bait.
Along with the two hags in the back, the merman twins stashed amongst the student body in the middle, and some gorgeous part-Siren stashed with the conductor, Kally was part of 'team bait.'
The lights in the compartment flickered, one giving an unnatural buzz.
It was dark back here. It was the last car on the train, a non-traditional caboose filled with the overflow of luggage. Several trunks and a few wardrobes had been stacked up against the back, rather precariously, and they blocked the rear windows and exit. There were a few other windows lining the sides of the compartment, but the curtains – old and moldy - had been drawn for the 'comfort' of the hags, both of whom were locked up in their respective, magically expanded wardrobes.
The hazy sunlight could barely get in, and what did infiltrate the compartment couldn't brighten it much.
It was dark, dingy, and packed.
It was about as unappealing to a student as possible.
She sat down on a dust-covered trunk.
At least Remus hadn't stuffed her into one of her own. She might be stuck back here, but at least she wasn't confined to a stuffy and portable closet.
Then again, she also wasn't prone to eating people.
Outside the brakes gave an audible, high-pitched squeal. They released. The train began to move. Trunks rattled lightly as grease cajoled piston rods and wheels into movement, propelling the train out of the station.
They left Platform 9 & 3/4s behind.
Something inside one of the wardrobes scuffled.
Kally whipped around, staring at it.
From within the cupboard came the distinct, low growl of a hungry stomach.
She was going to get eaten. She was seriously going to get eaten.
"Any chance," she muttered, "we could call a truce till we get there?"
The hungry stomach gave another, tiny rumble.
Right. She was screwed. "Remus," she muttered beneath her breath, "is such an ass."
The wardrobe on the right scuffled in agreement.
Hazel eyes narrowed critically, the non-witch reaching for her wand and slowly closing her fingers around the absolutely useless piece of wood. "I suppose it's too hopeful to assume that's a yes?"
Silence.
And then a slow, unnerving scratching filled the room, as if a hag were sharpening a nail against the inner door.
A shiver shot up her spine. There were two wardrobes. One had been painted a dark ebony, the other a deep mahogany. They looked slightly battered, chipped and beat up, and she could just imagine being pulled into them to be devoured by rotted teeth in large, fleshy chunks.
If she survived this she'd really have to consider professional counseling. Maybe they'd be able to explain exactly when she'd started thinking these kinds of things were normal.
Then again, they might just obliviate her.
One could only hope.
Another few minutes passed; the room grew increasingly stuffy. The hags in the cupboards stirred with increasing intensity, the scuttling so steady that the wardrobes sounded as if they'd developed a rat infestation.
Kally clenched her eyes shut and breathed through her nose, an undispelled restlessness in the air. "Take it you both are as pleased with this as I am?" she said, almost to herself.
Hag Right thumped on the door.
Kally let out a breathy laugh, raking fingers through her hair. This was ridiculous. She was communicating with locked up hags who would sooner eat her than-
The door to the compartment burst open and she about jumped out of her skin.
She also nearly fell off the trunk, dropping her wand.
Her useless, useless wand.
Standing in the doorway of the world's grimiest train compartment stood the wizard from Diagon.
He looked as surprised as she did.
ECOTS
There was a clink, followed by the low, quiet puttering of something rolling at a slow speed across hard floor.
Harry lifted the ball of his shoe and the wand rolled right underneath, coming to a final, definitive stop. And then…
He stared.
Harry simply stared.
He'd just spent the past ten minutes shoving his way through train car after train car to get back here, barging past the throngs of students after a hasty wave goodbye to Ron and Hermione. The random comments from his classmates had varied from 'there goes the nutter' to 'mentally disturbed, look at that scar, he's clearly addled!' to 'Heya Harry! You were right! Paper said so!'
It was enough to make him want to punch things.
He'd even run into Malfoy, and had it not been for a well-positioned Auror in the hallway he reckoned it might have come to blows. As it was, all they'd done was glower at one another, Malfoy retreating back into his compartment with a sneer, Harry's hot gaze following him with a dark, promising look.
Hell, he'd almost forgotten about Kaylens.
The train vibrated gently. The witch sat there, one of her hands frozen in her long hair as if she'd been combing it with her literal fingers before he'd arrived.
Of all the things going on – Death Eaters and partial creatures and the Order using the train and students as mother fucking bait – storming into the back compartment to find Kaylens just sitting there was the last thing he'd expected. When Lupin had said to 'keep an eye' on her, he'd assumed the man meant at Hogwarts.
Not here. Not now.
This back compartment allegedly housed child-eating hags. Hags that had to be kept secret, lest the likes of Malfoy and probably half of Slytherin House get ahold of them. This back compartment could be attacked at any second. The threat was serious enough that bloody Aurors were on board.
And Harry was meant to be the last line of defense if Death Eaters got past them, and somehow got back here.
And the girl from Knockturn just so happened to be back here too.
He could have sworn the witch had said she was staying at Hogwarts.
Lupin could have at least warned him that she was on the train. Then again, maybe that was the whole point. For all he knew this was just another twisted game of Dumbledore's, where the Order asked him to keep an eye on yet another student because they didn't know what to make of them yet. They didn't trust them, so needed another set of eyes on them. Kind of like what he did with Malfoy.
It'd probably lead to Harry nearly getting hexed in his sleep.
He could see Dumbledore's explanation now: why Harry, we didn't tell you of our suspicion because we did not want to bias you in either direction. What if the girl had proven innocent of our suspicions?
Dumbledore really did like to give him partial information after all.
Well screw that.
And now here was Kaylens, in the back compartment, where she shouldn't be.
He needed to secure the damn room. He didn't have time for her to be back here. He didn't have time for any of this.
Harry was silent, and so was she.
Smooth as a predator Harry crouched down, reclaiming her wand from beneath his foot. His fingers curled tightly around it for a second, then loosened, then tightened. He thought through his options and tossed her wand in hand, as if weighing it, his gaze dead steady on her face. "Lose something?"
It landed in his palm with a thud, heavier than any wand he'd ever felt.
Again, that niggling feeling at the back of his brain stirred.
Something about this entire situation was off.
Kaylens sat there. She just sat there on that trunk and looked at him. She looked startled and she said nothing, but her hand slowly slipped through her hair, falling to rest alongside her, her fingers splayed out on the trunk's lid, as if trying to keep her balance.
In that moment Harry might have noticed that she had very nice fingers.
He didn't acknowledge that.
His stare remained heavy. "Well?"
At that – perhaps his tone, expression, or the fact that he'd been standing there now for a good thirty seconds - Kaylens seemed to shake herself, something sparking in her eyes. "I would think that was fairly obvious," she offered.
The train rattled around them. An unlit lantern swung noisily overhead.
She clearly had no intention of saying another word.
He wanted to grind his teeth. "You're really not good at that whole 'defending yourself under pressure' thing are you?" he remarked, tone dry as the desert. "Either that or your reflexes just need serious work. Like this?" He held up her wand. "You're supposed to hold onto it." No wonder she'd nearly gotten hexed by Borgins. She hadn't even drawn her wand then. And now…
Well now she'd gotten startled just by him walking into the compartment.
He seriously wondered what her plan was if Death Eaters started hexing.
Then again, not everyone had to worry about Death Eaters hex-hunting them.
That was assuming she wasn't one.
Grand. Just. Damn. Grand.
The train clunkered over a rough section of tracks, the drawn curtains flapping and letting in just a bit more sun. The daylight crawled across the floor until it bathed the trunks and wardrobes in bright, bright light.
The wardrobes didn't like that.
From the wardrobes located in the back of the otherwise vacant compartment came a scuffling, followed by a strange sort of growl.
Hags.
Harry's brow creased, drawing low over his eyes, and without a word he took a step towards them-
The witch shot to her feet, placing herself between him and the wardrobes, blocking his path. "Rats," she said with an infuriating type of certainty. "It's just rats."
Harry knew damn well that it wasn't rats.
And judging from the peculiar look in her eyes, so did she.
"Really?" He didn't bother to mask the skepticism.
"Yes," she said. "Bit annoying, actually. You might want to try another compartment. You know, one less infested."
He took a deeply annoyed breath and once again contemplated a myriad of ways to bodily toss her out of there. "Well," he muttered, "lucky for you I'm a good exterminator." He lifted her wand up in front of him, arching an eyebrow. "Want this back?"
Kaylens eyes shot to it, and for a second he swore to things unholy that she looked almost nervous. Harry frowned as he watched, and Kaylens didn't even notice; her eyes were downcast, fixated on the wand in his hand. Her lips parted, as if wanting to say something, but no sound came out. Then they clamped back shut, the witch's incredibly white teeth biting down on her lower lip, looking at the wand as if might bite.
He stared at her lower lip for a second too long.
Fuck.
He considered punching himself. Right in the face.
Really, it might help.
Under his feet the floor shook lightly as the train rolled on, and with an irritated breath Harry gave her wand a pointed waggle, directly in front of her nose.
Still she said nothing.
He had half a mind to snap something derisive at how long she was taking.
When she still didn't take it, he gave in.
"Sometime today," he uttered dryly, "might be helpful. Unless you want me to just give it to McGonagall and have her give it back to you at a later date and time. You know, when it's more convenient?"
That wince on her face turned absolutely scathing, her hand shooting out and snatching it back. The way she hesitated for a half second though, as if it could scald her…
Even he didn't miss that.
Any hesitance he might have seen disappeared in an instant. "Take it this is your default state then?" she asked, somewhat acidly. "Pleasant as hell?"
"I am pleasant as hell," he countered.
The look she shot him could have melted icebergs. "Uh huh."
He bristled despite himself.
What the fuck was she doing back here anyway? Lupin had sent him back here, specifically. In quotes, he'd said he'd be "most appreciative" if Harry would sit back there as a "guard".
Yeah right.
If the Order had wanted the half-human-hags actually guarded they'd have put Tonks back there. Or Lupin. Or literally anyone else. Not. Him. Harry wasn't fooled. He wasn't stupid. They had asked him to come back here because they wanted him protected. They had put their 'Boy-Who-Lived' in a nice metal box rolling along train tracks for his own damn safety. Sticking him with two of the others they were guarding was just for convenience. After all, if they were all in one place it'd be easier for them to keep track of them, now wouldn't it?
Yeah, he wasn't bitter at all.
But none of that explained what Kaylens was doing back here, because she wasn't sealed up in a wardrobe and she sure as hell wasn't a hag. She also wasn't an Order member, which left only a few disturbing options.
Either the witch was just really good at showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time…
Or she was there intentionally.
The blood rushing through his veins picked up, heart hammering just a bit harder. Death Eaters, student recruits, were allegedly going to try to get to the partial humans.
And here Kaylens was, a new student, just sitting here.
And she still hadn't put her wand away. It hung loosely between her fingers, as if scared to touch it, but ultimately…she was back here. Her weapon was out, and Harry…
She could be a Death Eater. Logically he knew that. With all of her strange behavior, it'd make sense.
Sucking in a breath he took a step closer, the witch's eyes darting up, her feet taking a quick step back. Her heels bumped up against a cherry-wood-colored trunk, the witch stumbling, and his hand shot out before he'd even registered what he was doing. He grabbed at her upper arm, steadying her.
And then he didn't let go. He just fixed her with a hard, assessing look, aware that his fingers remained curled around her arm, aware that she had sucked in a breath, aware that he'd done the same, aware that inside his chest his heart was pounding, and pounding hard.
Harry's mouth went cursedly dry.
The hags in the wardrobes scratched at the wood and they both ignored it. Instead Harry's gaze went hard, looking Kaylens over, trying to see, to find something, some reason beyond pure dumb bad luck as to why she kept showing up in places she shouldn't.
All he saw was a witch that stood just a few inches shorter than him, and a set of hazel eyes that looked uneasily back. A few strands of hair hung in her face, the color neither brown nor blonde, but instead a strange sort of gold. It reminded him yet again of a veela, just the reverse.
The train bumped over something, the curtains shifting. A trace of sunlight snuck in to cut across her face, and it practically sent her irises blazing gold.
Her hair was the same.
He had to blink to look away.
Fuck.
He had to get her out of this room.
He ignored the traitorous urge to do the exact opposite.
He didn't know her; he didn't trust her.
Consequently his words came out a lot more biting than he meant. "Aren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts?" he demanded. "Or did you lie about that too?"
Kaylens' lips parted, soundless for a moment.
And then they snapped shut, her eyes narrowing. "Ah," she murmured, as if coming to a sudden realization, "so you are an ass."
For some reason the insult dug in. "Only when the situation calls for it," he bit back.
Kaylens hovered there, between him and the trunk. Harry could practically feel the waves of tension radiating off her, his own just as palpable in the musky, dingy room. It was hot back here. Dimly lit and dank.
He watched her, and she watched him right back, her lips parting in quiet continuance. "And to think," she said quietly, "I half wondered if you were actuallyan asshole, or if you were just having an off day in Diagon."
Only she said it 'Dye-eh-gawn'.
Like she didn't know how to pronounce it.
Harry literally had no idea what to make of this girl.
Her eyes were still flickering over his, her expression unreadable as she muttered, almost to herself, "Apparently not."
Harry ground down a tense, terse swallow. "First," he muttered, fingers flexing, "it's called Dye-ah-gone." He sounded it out, nice and slow in case she didn't grasp simple concepts like pronunciation. "And second, I'm not the one who keeps showing up in places they shouldn't be."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"
"Yeah," he grit, "oh."
Neither of them looked at where his hand remained, wrapped firmly around her upper arm. His fingers practically burned, and Kaylens' eyes flickered over his, a strange sort of fire blazing within.
"So," she murmured, "according to you I shouldn't be minding my own business and sitting quietly in a compartment?" She glanced around the compartment in question, a quiet, dangerous sarcasm touching her voice. "You know I could have sworn it was unoccupied and I wasn't bothering anyone. Perhaps I should crawl out one of the windows and hang off the actual back. Would that suit you better?"
"You want to take a nap back on the end platform, be my guest."
"Great idea. Maybe you should try it. If we make a sudden stop I'll yell so you don't roll off."
"And you say I'm the pleasant one?" he asked dryly.
She gave a careless, one-shouldered shrug. "You're the one implying that there's some sort of mythical schedule about where I'm allowed and not allowed to be, Potter."
Potter.
She sounded like Malfoy.
His grip dropped from her arm as if he'd been scalded. Where in the hell was Moony? Or Tonks? Or someone else? They'd be better equipped to handle this.
His jaw set. "Hanging off the back might be a bit extreme," he said shortly. "How about you just go join the rest of the students?"
She eyed him oddly. "You say that like you're not one of them."
He practically snorted. "I'm not."
The look she shot him spoke volumes,
Harry met her gaze with a humorless grimace. "Let's just say we've had our differences," he said, anticipating the question, "and leave it at that."
"Can't imagine why," she said tartly. "What with your cheery disposition and propensity for showing up out of nowhere to 'save' people? I'd think that'd make you mister popularity."
He stiffened. "Why don't you just go and-"
"And leave you all alone back here?" she interrupted, far too sweetly. "That would just be rude. I mean really, Potter, what if the rats decide to rise up and revolt against you? No one would find your pieces parts for weeks."
Right. He was going to have to pick her up and bodily toss her the fuck out.
But Kaylens clearly wasn't done. Abruptly she took a step forward, getting close. Damn close. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm supposed to be back here? And that maybe it's really crappy of you to barge in and tell me to leave?"
A flare of something annoyed burst inside him.
It was followed by an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Hermione.
He needed to reason this out. He needed to think. And with her standing this damn close…
He took a deep damn breath and tried to anyway. Things warred inside his skull. His previous logic had been sound. Kaylens had shown up now, twice, where she shouldn't be. Both times she'd been conveniently in places where Death Eaters were planning to arrive. Harry didn't believe in coincidences. So that meant she was either withthem, or a target for them.
She didn't look like a creature.
Borgins had wanted her hair anyway.
And now here she was, in the back train compartment, claiming she was supposed to be there and refusing to leave.
She was either helping them, or she needed help.
Lupin had said there were hags back there.
Part human hags.
Lupin had asked him to keep an eye on her.
She'd been with Hagrid in Diagon.
Green eyes darkened, the wizard unconsciously shifting closer. Harry missed the way her breath sucked in, the way she just as unconsciously stepped back, her heels once again striking up against a trunk. The metal box halted her retreat.
Overhead the unlit lantern continued to swing noisily as London was abandoned in favor of the city outskirts. The train rumbled on and they both just stood there, looking at one another. The girl met his gaze unblinkingly, her chin tilted up ever-so-slightly, defiance flashing in her eyes. Her incredibly golden eyes. And Harry…
He looked; just looked. Heat prickled across his skin, his chest pounding, and despite every fucking reason he had to think otherwise, his brain still sought for another reason, a potential explanation for why the hell she kept showing up where she shouldn't. One that didn't scream 'Death Eater.'
And there was one. There was one potential reason to explain everything that was off about her, and it settled deep in his bones, no matter how insane it seemed.
He asked it anyway. "Are you a hag?" He was dead serious.
Kaylens looked at him like he was addled. "A hag?"
He grimaced, humorless. "Did I stutter?"
The drapes fluttered, the light shifting across her face in new and interesting ways. She didn't notice. She just looked at him with that same expression, her eyes slightly narrowed, suspicious and questioning. "Riiiight," she murmured. "A hag. So…is that supposed to be an insult?"
"Can't help but notice," he countered, "that you're not answering the question."
She hissed. Actually hissed. "I'll take that as a yes."
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Take it however you want, just answer the question."
The witch actually scowled. "No," she snapped, surprising him "No, I am not a sodding hag."
A cold pit dropped in his stomach, confusion swarming in his gut. She was either a part-hag or a Death Eater. She had to be one or the other. He didn't believe in coincidences, and if she wasn't a partial creature then that meant…
His gaze turned burning. "You sure about that? Because really Kaylens, if you're not, then how the hell do you explain you showing up, conveniently, at-"
She interrupted him.
"I'm not a hag," she said icily. "Though really, I appreciate the implication that you think I'm a lousy looking-"
He bristled. "That's not what I sai-"
"The hell it isn't!"
A loud, brazen bang bashed against a wardrobe door, the 'in hiding hags' no longer even attempting to be subtle. Harry's burning gaze shot from her to them, voice barking out before he could even register what the hell he was doing. "Knock it off, will ya?!"
What shocked him was that Kaylens had whipped around as well, snapping the same thing.
The exact same thing.
She'd snapped at the hags in the wardrobes, because she'd known they were there.
Harry's mouth dropped open and he stared at her. "You knew?" He'd suspected. He had, but this confirmed it. "How could you possibly-"
Her head had whipped back around so fast her hair nearly struck his face. "Me? How could you?"
"You've met Hagrid," he said dryly, echoing her words now. "I think it'd be rather obvious I'd get filled in."
Kaylens stiffened. Through her ill-fitting shirt, the long sleeves hanging loosely down to her knuckles, he watched as every single part of her went rigid. Absolutely rigid. She didn't frown or glare or otherwise snap back, like they'd been doing. No.
Instead her honeyed eyes swirled with something unreadable, her breath sucked in.
And then she took a slow, careful step back, away from him.
"He told you?" she practically whispered, incredulous.
He eyed her as if she'd grown a second head. "Of course he told me," he answered, frustrated, gesturing towards the back. "Why do you think I'm back here in the first place? Or did you think I liked hanging around in compartments that last got dusted in eighteen eighty three?"
Her feet took her another step back, farther from him. "How much exactly," she quietly asked, ignoring everything else, "did he tell you?"
It took him a second to realize that her left arm, the one he'd had ahold of not moments before, was shaking.
Just like her voice.
Her voice was shaking.
It clicked, Harry suddenly recognizing the emotion stirring in her voice: it was fear. Kaylens was afraid, and Death Eaters…
Death Eaters didn't look afraid. Not like this.
He wanted to yank out his hair. None of this made any sense. "Look, Kaylens," he said, fighting to control his voice, "how about you just sit the hell down and tell me how you…" His voice trailed off, because as he'd spoken he'd taken a step forward.
As soon as he had Kaylens' arm had shot up, her wand leveled directly at his face.
"Back," she whispered harshly, "away."
Harry stared at the end of her wand in utter fucking shock, tensed and weighing his odds of knocking it out of her hand before she could get off a hex. He liked his odds, but he never got the chance to find out.
Instead the entire room began to hiss.
It hissed like a snake.
Kaylens eyes had gone wide, the witch staring at something behind him.
Harry glanced backwards in time to see the smoke curling in from beneath the compartment's closed doors, the smoke an acrid purple. From outside in the corridor Harry heard someone shouting for everyone to cast Bubblehead charms, only-
That voice was cut off, abruptly.
It was followed by a loud thud, like the sound of a body hitting the floor.
"Fuck."
