A.N.: If anyone cares to explore, I've created a Pinterest board, Maia - Eldest of the Pleiades. There are sections.
I've just realised that I'm annoyed that we never got to see Tonks and Remus' wedding. I'm reviewing Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows, and I just don't care about Fleur. I want to see more of the tumultuous relationship between Tonks and Remus.
I want to see Tonks flooring everyone with how elegant she looks, I want Remus' vows to reduce Hagrid to tears, I want them all gathered to watch Remus, the best teacher they ever had, the person who is the kindest and most self-loathing person they've ever met, get married to this vivacious, courageous woman who doesn't care that he's a werewolf. I'm actually getting irrationally angry about the whole thing.
And let's be honest, if Death Eaters had ambushed her wedding, Tonks would've pulled off her veil, revealed the combat boots she was wearing under her dress, grabbed her wand from her thigh-holster, fought side by side with her husband to hex the bejeezus out of everyone, and then knocked the cake over trying to cut Remus a piece when the dust settles and everyone's gaping because they've seen Tonks in action and she is insanely talented Auror, and they are a power couple.
I'd like to know, does anyone else share this opinion, or is it just me?
Eldest of the Pleiades
Spread the Word
When he finally woke, it was to find a dog curled up on his feet, and someone rustling a newspaper that glowed in the noon sun, spearing his eyes. Harry also realised that he felt wonderfully well-rested, and that all his aches and scrapes had been expertly healed by Madam Pomfrey. He grunted, fidgeting, and pulled his sweating feet from under the dog, grasping around for his glasses, still trying to shield his eyes.
"You're finally awake!" Hermione gasped, sounding relieved and impatient all at once, and the newspaper rustled violently. "We've been waiting for hours."
"Where's Ron?"
"Playing chess with Viktor," Hermione said softly, and Harry shoved his glasses on in time to catch Hermione rolling her eyes in amusement. "Ron! Ron! He's awake."
"- crush him, for Merlin's sake, he's only a pawn - no, I don't want your advice, you lost me two Sickles last time, just do what I tell you - what, Hermione?"
"I said, Harry's awake!" Hermione called, peering out from behind the screen shielding Harry from the rest of the Hospital Wing.
"We're mid-play, Hermione!" Ron called, sounding frustrated, and Hermione scoffed, shaking her head.
"They're playing chess? How did that happen?" Harry asked. Wasn't Ron still spitting with indignation that Krum had taken Hermione to the Yule Ball?
"Well… Last night, after Dumbledore told us what'd happened, the Durmstrang students came to sleep up in Gryffindor Tower. They're actually a very nice lot, they love the twins… Beauxbatons are in Ravenclaw, for now," Hermione said. "This morning, after breakfast, one of Viktor's friends came up to help him to Professor Dumbledore's office. He wanted to talk to them all, first the Durmstrang lot, because Professor Karkaroff has run off…then the Beauxbatons students, though Fleur Delacour's too ill to be moved just yet so he'll speak to her later. Madam Pomfrey says another week, and a strict regimen of potions, and she'll feel better than she did before Crouch cursed her. Although Madam Pomfrey's rather cross that no-one mentioned Fleur's part-Veela, as that'll diminish the effectiveness of some of the Healing potions."
"Yes, but they're playing chess," Harry said. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Professor Dumbledore said it's more important than ever that we strengthen international bonds of friendship," Hermione said, turning faintly pink. "We were still here when Viktor returned from talking with Dumbledore… Viktor's invited me to stay with his family in Bulgaria for a week during the holidays."
"Are you going?"
"Well, Mrs Weasley overheard us talking, and she said she'd be more than happy to escort me to Bulgaria on her way to visiting Charlie in Romania, if I wanted to go, and if my parents agree, of course," Hermione admitted, still blushing hotly.
"Mrs Weasley's going to visit Charlie in Romania?" Harry asked curiously, frowning, and Hermione glanced at the dog at the end of the bed. Snuffles panted lightly, resting his head on his paws, watching them.
"Yes," Hermione said slowly, glancing at Sirius. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore wants to talk to you, again, at least, he came by to check on you and said if we wouldn't mind, he'd like a word with us, but not until you're feeling up to it - Mrs Weasley and Madam Pomfrey have joined forces; they say you're not to leave the Hospital Wing until you've had a decent haircut and put on at least half a stone."
"I'm ready for my medicine," Harry said eagerly, sitting up straighter, glancing around for the Matron, with the usual lunch-tray; Hermione leaned over to fluff his pillows for him, and he raised his eyebrows, surprised by the gesture. He realised how bright her eyes were, her nostrils twitching delicately, and she sniffed.
Hoarsely, she whispered, "Are you alright, Harry?"
He catalogued his body; everything was healed. Madam Pomfrey hadn't let him down yet. But he knew that wasn't what she was asking. He gave a tiny jerk of his head, and sank back against the pillows, staring resolutely at the ceiling as his eyes stung. Sirius rested his head on Harry's feet again, and the warmth was as comforting as it had been last night.
"Where are Mr and Mrs Diggory?"
"They left this morning, after they sat with Dumbledore… They came to visit you, earlier, but Madam Pomfrey told them you were still under the influence of a Dreamless Sleep Potion, so…they left," Hermione said sombrely. For a little while, they sat in silence, listening to Ron deploring a particularly brilliant move of Krum's that had cost him a rook.
"Professor Dumbledore told us what you did, Harry," Hermione half-whispered, glancing at him, and Harry's nose stung, his eyes burning. Sirius stretched himself along his legs, and Harry reached out absently to scratch his ears, making his tail wag. "It was very brave."
"Dumbledore told you? Do you know about Crouch?"
"Yes," Hermione said sharply, brushing lint off her skirt. Her hands were shaking.
"What happened, after Crouch dragged me back to the castle?" Harry asked curiously.
"It was really quite horrible, actually," Hermione said lightly. "The teachers got everyone under control, and ordered the Prefects to escort us to our Common Rooms… The twins heard from the house-elves that Professor Lupin asked them to send up the hot-chocolate and toast and things…they helped settle people's nerves, we had no idea what was going on… None of us were tired, we were all waiting for news; all we saw was you, covered in blood, and Cedric…lying on the grass…then the Head Boy shows up, asking us to gather in the Great Hall… Professor McGonagall came in, leading the Durmstrang students, they looked like they were afraid to be hexed, but she just sat them down at the Gryffindor Table and told us that Professor Dumbledore would be down soon… That's when we found out Karkaroff had fled, one of Viktor's friends came and found me and told me… They'd seen a group of Aurors and Ministry officials cross the grounds, and someone in Ravenclaw told us that Hit Wizards from Magical Law Enforcement were escorting a Death Eater back to Azkaban… And Cleitus saw Cornelius Fudge throwing his weight around, having a tantrum before he left the school, Professor Snape showed him out… Then Professor Dumbledore arrived, with Mr and Mrs Diggory, and Mrs Weasley tucked herself at the end of the Gryffindor table just before Dumbledore started speaking…"
"What did he say?" Harry asked, half curious, half filled with dread. And, because this was Hermione, Harry got Dumbledore's speech verbatim. Dumbledore had apparently told them everything: About Barty Crouch Jr and the impersonation of Mad-Eye Moody; the impossible plot revolving around the Triwizard Tournament; the rebirthing of Lord Voldemort; he told them about Priori Incantatum, and Cedric Diggory's last request…
When Hermione finally stopped speaking, Harry lay against his pillows, gazing unseeingly at the ceiling. He couldn't imagine Dumbledore telling his students all that…all that detail, all that horror - but then, he had never shied away from telling them the truth.
"It was an extraordinary thing you did, Harry, bringing Cedric back," Hermione said, her voice hoarse, and she sniffed delicately.
"He would've done it for me," Harry said, with certainty. Decent people are so easy to manipulate, Potter… He shuddered, and sank lower into the pillows.
"Did you…did you see your parents, Harry? During Priori Incantatum?" Hermione asked on a breathless whisper, and Harry glanced at her. Dumbledore hadn't told the school about that? Hermione flushed. "When Professor Dumbledore told us what the spell does…well, you saw Cedric, I thought you must have - if it was the same wand…"
"Yeah…it was the same wand," Harry said gruffly, staring at the ceiling. Sirius fidgeted, and licked his palm when Harry scratched his muzzle distractedly.
"You know, I - I'm not sentimental, Harry, and I don't want you to hold it against me that I've said this, b-but I just want you to know how proud I am that you're my best-friend," Hermione said, lifting her chin, even as her eyes glittered and her voice shook. "And - I know your mum and dad would be so proud of you, too."
Harry nodded to himself, still staring at the ceiling. After a little while, he glanced at Hermione. "I wouldn't have got far without you, though."
"I wasn't in the graveyard, Harry," Hermione said sombrely.
"But you trained me," Harry told her.
"If we're going to thank someone, I think it should be Professor Lupin, for being the first competent teacher who nurtured your talent for Defensive magic," Hermione said, sitting up straighter. Harry rolled his eyes; Lupin hadn't been letting him practices hexes and jinxes on him in the run-up to the Third Task, or pored over library books to find new counter-curses for him to memorise. Not that he wouldn't, if Harry had asked him, probably.
"Can we talk about something else - you never told me about your brainwave!" Harry said, suddenly remembering.
"Oh! Well - it's funny you should bring that up," Hermione said, beaming smugly for the first time, and she dipped a hand inside her schoolbag, withdrawing a small glass jar with a few bits of twig and leaves inside, and a fat, glossy beetle. "It was you who gave me the idea, Harry."
"Did I? How?"
"Bugging…"
"But you said Muggle stuff -"
"Oh, no, Muggle technology would go haywire around here," Hermione said dismissively. "No - you remember after the Second Task, well, Viktor pulled me out the water, and we were talking, you know, and he pulled a beetle out of my hair… Well, it wasn't a real beetle… Because Rita Skeeter…is an unregistered Animagus… Harry, say hello to Rita." And she brandished the jar at Harry, who took it, and peered closer. "Look at the markings on her antennae, they're exactly like those heinous glasses she wears." Sirius poked his nose closer, eyeing the contents of the jar and growling low.
"Where did you -?"
"She was buzzing about on the windowsill last night, I imagine she was frothing at the mouth to get an eye-witness account of everything that was going on," Hermione said scathingly. Contemptuously, she added, "It's a wonder she was bothering with a sleeping teenage boy in the Hospital Wing when half the Aurors and Ministry Heads of Department were up in Dumbledore's office…"
Harry was suddenly remembering something. "There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!"
"Yes, well, if I'm very much mistaken, Rita Skeeter was perched on the windowsill during the Divination class when you had that funny turn," Hermione said. "She's been buzzing around all year, thinking she was being so very clever."
"When we saw Malfoy under that tree…"
"He was talking to her, in his hand," Hermione said shrewdly. "He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those delightful little interviews with the Slytherins. Whether they knew she was doing it illegally, I don't know - I doubt they cared, just as long as their name was in print. Well, Rita's finished. Not that anyone's going to bother reading her now anyway… Here, read this. It's The Phoenix, Harry, don't worry, it's not The Prophet, and that lady who interviewed you yesterday, she wrote a lot of the articles… Cleitus was telling me she's an investigative journalist, goes all over the world reporting on the most hideous things, centaur apartheid, goblin massacres, Veela trafficking, wizard child-soldiers, you know, to raise awareness; she even cottoned on to a serial-killer without realising it, she pieced together all the clues that a team of Aurors in Istanbul completely missed because they were so focused on another avenue of investigation."
"She seemed nice, and clever," Harry said, remembering, "She used to go out with Bill Weasley."
"Yes, the twins mentioned that. They lust for her, apparently," she said drily, rolling her eyes.
"Mrs Weasley seemed pretty annoyed Bill hadn't told her Ziggy was back."
"Well, when Bill was in his final N.E.W.T. year, apparently Mrs Weasley expected him to settle down and marry Ziggy, and live here, in Britain; only Ziggy earned a job writing for a foreign press, a really brilliant opportunity - Cleitus has loaned me some of the articles he's collected from foreign papers; it would have been appalling if Ziggy hadn't chased her career - but Bill wouldn't get on-board, so Ziggy dumped him, and has been travelling the world ever since," Hermione said, sounding rather impressed. "The twins say it's ironic, because her dumping him was a real kick up the behind for Bill, and he accepted the position as Trainee Curse-Breaker with Gringott's and went off to Egypt, rather than living at home and working in London, you know, where Mrs Weasley sort of expected him to work..."
"That's the second time you've mentioned Cleitus," Harry said, his mind going to the tall, handsome Slytherin boy who seemed to be the antithesis of what they assumed it meant to be a Slytherin.
"Well…" Hermione sighed, giving Harry a look. "When we found out it was Barty Crouch Jr who was impersonating Professor Moody - he was imprisoned…well, he was imprisoned with Cleitus' parents, Harry, everyone's talking about it…and he heard a rumour about Sirius Black being your godfather - also that Sirius is innocent - but he wanted to make absolutely sure there wasn't any possibility his parents could escape the same way Sirius did, because of course, Crouch had outside help." Sirius lifted his head up at that, staring at Hermione, who was so focused on Harry that she didn't notice.
"And what did you tell him?"
"Well, I said I doubted it, but if he was really worried, he should ask Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, shrugging awkwardly. "I couldn't tell him the truth about how Sirius escaped, of course, and I have no way of knowing if his parents are illegal Animagi, but they're not on the British Animagus Registry."
Sirius growled gruffly, somehow managing to frown in dog-form. Hermione frowned at him, then seemed to understand something. "Cleitus Lestrange. Apparently his parents were arrested for using the Cruciatus Curse on some Aurors after You-Know-Who fell last time. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. And Cleitus' uncle, Rabastan, too." Harry's stomach clenched unpleasantly, remembering his journey in the Pensieve, finding out about Neville's parents…
He realised with a sudden sickening feeling that Crouch hadn't just been Harry's teacher all this year…but Neville's, too - that during their lessons with him, Crouch had…had used the illegal Imperius Curse on Neville…
He wondered how Neville was handling finding out that one of the Dark wizards responsible for his parents' insanity had been roaming free all these years, had impersonated their teacher, used an Unforgiveable Curse on him, even showed him kindness as part of the plot to murder one of his classmates and resurrect a Dark wizard…
Sirius fidgeted, growling low, grumbling. He rested his head on Harry's knee, and sighed, closing his eyes.
"Does anyone know who the Aurors were?" Harry asked, testing the waters.
"Not that I've heard," Hermione said grimly. "Here, here's the newspaper. Have a read. Apparently there's going to be a special evening edition. I'll go and see where they are with that chess game…honestly…" And, huffing softly, Hermione handed Harry the newspaper and disappeared beyond the screens, pulling her bushy hair into a big bun on top of her head, a sure sign she was agitated.
Harry was left with his godfather and the newspaper. Sirius sat up, and knocked Harry out of the bed in the attempt to sit next to him. The dog snorted, as Harry pulled himself off the floor, and he clambered back onto the bed, pulling a face at his godfather, before spreading the newspaper over the sheets in front of them.
Reading The Phoenix was rather like being introduced to Professor McGonagall after only ever experiencing Professor Trelawney as an example of witches.
For the first time, Harry was impressed with the quality of Wizarding journalism. And heading nearly every article were the names Elizabeth Wodehouse and Shelley Franklin, Editor-in-Chief. He couldn't imagine Ziggy Wodehouse not committing her life to journalism. After reading her articles, Harry didn't think there was anyone in the world capable of conveying to the public with integrity, compassion and wisdom all the information that had to be disseminated, at once warning and reassuring the general public.
The newspaper laid everything bare. Everything, to the last detail. Crouch's testimony; Harry's experience in the graveyard; Voldemort's plans. What the Ministry had to do in order to stop him. And somehow, in the last few hours, The Phoenix had managed to dredge up and explore the murky pasts of the wizards Harry had named, making links and connections, not just alluding to but backing up claims of corruption and Dark magic and Death Eater involvement. He wasn't surprised Hermione had been gushing about The Phoenix: even just the profiles on the Death Eaters who evaded or slithered their way out of a binding conviction were astoundingly accurate and thought-provoking.
In nearly every article, the point was hammered home that the Minister for Magic's office had declined to comment.
Remembering the letter Hermione had received full of Bubotuba puss after one of Rita Skeeter's articles, Harry wondered briefly what the public reaction would be.
"Ah, you're awake, are you?!" He jumped, and Sirius jostled him again; Harry waved his arm like a windmill to keep from falling off the bed a second time, and gave Sirius a frown, gently shoving him until Sirius curled up at the foot of the bed. Madam Pomfrey had appeared with her usual stern frown. Harry submitted to her ministrations without complaint; after four long years, he knew better than to resist.
"How's Professor Moody?" Harry asked.
"Oh, Alastor Moody has been in far worse states than this," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly. "Although hypothermia and malnourishment are nothing to sniff at; he'll be in here for a week or so, at least. And, of course, that's nothing to say of the psychological damage. Mad-Eye was on the edge before; if this hasn't tipped him over, well…I'm not actually sure what could."
"Madam Pomfrey…when can I go back to Gryffindor Tower?"
"Not for a few days, Potter; Professor Dumbledore has asked me to keep you here, to give you room to breathe," Madam Pomfrey said kindly. "He doesn't want you bombarded with questions about - Well… When you feel up to it, you may return to your dormitory, but for now… Eat."
Harry, wondering whether he would ever feel up to facing his fellow students, turned to the lunch-tray that had appeared, laden with a mountain of food. Chicken and mushroom pie with leeks, and crumbly, buttery pastry; fresh carrots and broad-beans; minted new potatoes. And on the side, a miniature treacle tart. His favourite… He caught sight of Sirius, licking his chops, pale eyes on his plate.
"Want some?" Harry asked, and Sirius the man appeared, grinning lazily. Shielded by the privacy screens, Sirius moved closer, and together they demolished the contents of the tray. Sirius didn't touch the tart, though Harry half-heartedly offered.
"Never had much of a sweet tooth," he confessed, and Harry savoured every bite, letting the treacle stick to his teeth. After draining the glass of pumpkin juice, they shared a cup of tea, quietly discussing the newspaper. Sirius went still, handed the teacup back to Harry, and turned back into a dog seconds before Hermione reappeared, Ron in tow.
"He slaughtered me," Ron told Harry miserably. "You can't be brilliant at Quidditch and chess, it's just rude. How you feeling, mate?" Hermione rolled her eyes at him, sitting down in the chair by Harry's bedside.
"I'm alright. Just finished reading the paper," Harry said. "It's like comparing McGonagall to Trelawney." Hermione laughed.
"Yes, The Phoenix sets quite a different tone," she said, almost haughtily.
"Hermione…what've people's reactions been like?" Harry asked quietly, glancing uncertainly at his friends.
"Well…" Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.
"Most don't want to believe it," Ron said, shrugging.
"But Dumbledore's explanation - it all fits too beautifully," Hermione sighed miserably. "The devil is in the details, and, well…Dumbledore gave us undeniable detail. I was actually quite shocked he told us what he did, but then, I thought, well…we do need to know, and Dumbledore has never kept things from us, especially when they affect us."
"Mum was there, when Dumbledore told us all. She saw one little kid crying and went to give them a hug, suddenly she's being swarmed by hysterical First Years," Ron said, rolling his eyes.
"It's good she was there," Hermione said, frowning slightly at Ron. "When Dumbledore told us, all anyone wanted to do was be reassured their families were safe. Last night, Dumbledore said that if we wanted to stay with friends or siblings in other Houses, we could… He wanted to make sure we felt safe inside the school. And your mum was really lovely to those kids; they could see she was upset but she was braving it out. She showed them it's okay to be frightened. But we just have to get on with it."
"First time I've ever seen the twins really serious," Ron said grimly, reaching out for Harry's lunch tray; Hermione slapped his hand before he could nick the last bite of treacle tart. "What was that for?!"
"That's Harry's favourite," Hermione said, turning back to Harry. Her eyes flicked to Sirius. "Has Snuffles had any lunch? I was thinking of going down to the kitchens, you know…to visit Winky."
"Oh…yeah," Harry said, staring at his friend. He wondered what had happened to Winky once the Hit Wizards had taken Crouch away. "I'd like to visit, and see how she is… What do you think of it all, now, you know, now we know? Bloody awful Winky feels so badly about failing to help Crouch break the law…"
"And Crouch told her Bagman was bad!" Ron said, shaking his head.
"It's atrocious," Hermione said, sitting ramrod straight. "Mr Crouch knew what he was doing was illegal; he knew his son was dangerous; he knew he would return to You-Know-Who as soon as he got his wits back… He blamed Winky for his wrongdoing. Well, Mr Crouch paid for his cruelty toward Winky in the end, didn't he?"
"I'm glad he sacked her," Harry said, glancing over at Hermione, whose face contorted with anger. "She would've been at the house when Voldemort showed up. I'll bet he would've killed her, just because she was a loose end." Hermione's lips parted, and Harry sank against his pillows, fiddling with the button of his pyjama top. Kill the spare…
Hermione shrieked as the glass on his tray shattered with the force of a small bomb; Harry stared at the debris, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't made anything accidentally explode in years.
Hermione pulled out her wand, muttering Reparo and the glass mended itself flawlessly. Panting quietly, his blood rushing past his ears, Harry tamped down the nausea writhing in his stomach, leaning back against the pillows.
"Harry…was that you?" Hermione asked gently.
"I - I think I just - just need to sleep," Harry said, staring up at the ceiling. His head had started to hurt, and he kneaded the heel of his hand against his scar.
"Do you want Madam Pomfrey to give you another Sleeping Draught?" Hermione asked.
Harry thought about it, and remembered what Dumbledore had said last night: Postponing the inevitable would only make it hurt more when he finally confronted what had happened. "No…thanks…"
"Well…we'll take Snuffles for a run around the grounds," Ron said, and Sirius gave him a look as if to say, Oh, you will, will you? "Leave you in peace for a bit. I'll bet the kitchen has a load of scraps leftover from lunch." Sirius lifted his nose at that, glanced at Harry, who smiled wearily and scratched his ear; Sirius loped off the bed, yawning widely and shaking his entire huge body.
"We'll come back before dinner," Hermione said. "Madam Pomfrey might even let us stay and eat with you, she let us have breakfast with Viktor."
"Fleur awake yet?"
"No, but that's Madam Pomfrey; she needs Fleur unconscious for a lot of the potions to work properly," Ron said. "Dunno about Mad-Eye, though, he's still got screens up."
When they had left, Harry folded his glasses on his nightstand, tucked himself under the sheets, and drifted into an uneasy sleep, his head throbbing.
A.N.: So, there will be no Romione in this story, fair warning now. No what the youths today are calling 'WolfStar', though if I didn't love Remus and Tonks so much, there might've been. No Bleur, because I could get into an argument with Fleur-lovers about how ridiculous it is that people think she's a badass, when she literally only took a part-time job to polish up her accent and then became a housewife after looking down her nose at Mrs Weasley and the Burrow and there being nothing to do if you don't like chickens! Pardon me, but WTF did Fleur get to survive and Tonks didn't?
BTW, if anyone wants to bribe me to speed up updates, Aquaman would be much appreciated. The actual man. I went to see it at the cinema on Saturday. Phwoar! I'm a Marvel girl but even I can appreciate the - uh - the cinematography and CGI world-building and, er, fighting-choreography of Aquaman… It had nothing to do with Jason Momoa's muscle-tone…nothing at all… Not the way he flipped his hair over his shoulder, smirked and broke swords in half, or has a little tantrum in the middle of the Sahara and knocks the GPS out of Mera's hands like an irrational teenager, or because he's a gorgeous self-deprecating real person, not just a hero.
To quote Drax the Destroyer, "He is a MAN."