Potions Practicalities
Author's Note: Disclaimer here, no money, no own, no character, 'cept Adamantia.
oo0oo
The day was perfect! Adamantia glanced furtively around the common room then stood on tip-toes to tap the glass over the barometer on the fireside mantle. The dials and arrows remained steady and unchanging. The temperature read eight degrees centigrade, wind speed twenty five knots from due east, cloud cover zero, humidity eighty-seven percent. She turned the cube around to the back and tapped the predictor with her wand, almost dancing on the spot when the temperature began to climb steadily until the time read midday, the wind and humidity steady and the temperature was a cool but perfect twelve degrees. Brilliant!
Slipping back up to her dormitory, Adamantia quietly dressed in heavy woollen trousers, a completely forbidden article of clothing, according to her father. She slipped a navy blue wool fisherman's jersey on over a bright red shirt and pulled her heaviest cloak over the lot. Opening her trunk, she extracted a rattan cane basket, complete with lids, picked up a pair of heavy hobnail boots and a navy blue watch cap before creeping down the stairs on silent, stockinged feet.
Plopping down on the bottom step, she quickly laced the waterproof boots over her feet and hurried down to the Great Hall, her basket clutched securely to her chest. The hall was still and silent, no one stirring except the house-elf who popped in to see who was up and about so early on this blustery Saturday March morning. The elf grinned excitedly when he recognised the Snape child and quickly agreed to bring breakfast and have a good packed lunch ready in a jiffy.
Porridge was quickly followed by scrambled eggs on toast with sausage and a tall glass of milk. Laughing, Adamantia ate what she could but knew it was never enough to satisfy the house-elves who were always trying to fatten her up. Lunch was brought thoughtfully packed in a small rucksack and, before the day was much older, Adamantia slipped out a side door and drew a deep, deep breath of the crisp early morning air. It was so cold, it made her cough and giggle as she skipped and pranced over the flagstone courtyard and out over the lawns.
Her hobnail boots gave her great traction as she scrambled over the tumbled boulders at the far end of the Black Lake lapping at the foundation of Hogwarts. She had a mission and no one was going to stop her on this perfect day, not a teacher or a seventh-year or one of her nasty minded classmates, no one! She had planned this expedition ever since the previous October when she had first spotted the tiny blue-green plants just starting to die off in their protected hollow.
Windsong! Even the name was beautiful.
Slipping down the canted mossy trunk of a fallen oak, she slithered into the hollow above the small patch of dirt, deposited there by years of wind and rain. A rounded boulder protected it from the bitter north winds while tumbled rock protected the west and south sides. The eastern side was open to the wind and morning sun and the low-lying plants were bending before the playful fingers in just the right way.
Sitting on the flat rock, Adamantia settled her basket and opened the lid, extracting a notebook and pencil. Studying the patch intently, she began to sketch the plants in situ, and then began a detailed and rather well executed drawing of a leaf. She was totally intent on her task such that the cold failed to penetrate the warming charms on her cloak and boots. Her attention fixated on the tiny plants that were already beginning to bloom. Pulling out her silver trimming knife, she quickly cut only two buds, stowing them in a clean white cotton bag she had painstakingly sewn over the winter. She quickly sketched the bud tendril, getting as much detail as she could before hurriedly turning to the actual flower which was as ephemeral as its name. The plants budded and bloomed in a matter of half an hour, then the dead flowers dropped away and seedpods began to form. Before the flowers could die, she quickly harvested two, casting a stasis spell over them to preserve them before stowing the plants close to the buds.
Then came the really tricky part, one she had agonised over since she had decided to gather this particularly difficult and rare potions ingredient. Should she cut the seedpods or should she sketch them? Before she could decide, a dark shadow fell over her but did not touch nor blight the forming seedpods. She let out a squeal of fright as a black robe slapped into her back and a very familiar voice spoke over her head.
"Found them, did you?"
"Sir!" she gasped, ducking her head reflexively, then smiled as a long, sinuous body slithered around her knees and butted her hand beguilingly. "Hi, Harry Cat."
"Have you decided on a course of action?" Severus Snape asked curiously, glancing down at the child's sketches and nodding in surprise, she had some talent and observational ability.
"I-I…"
"You cannot touch them with your skin or your shadow, you know?" the voice continued as her cousin squatted down beside her on the rock.
"No, Sir, I know."
"Can you cast the Gloves Charm on your hands properly? You will only get one chance, you realise?"
"Yes, Sir, but…"
"Too advanced for you, is it?"
The faint notes of mockery made her back stiffen and she groped in her bag pulling out two objects that made her cousin lean back a little. "I can cast the Gloves Charm but it's not my best charm, so I brought these. Surgical gloves, Muggle gloves, and they stop skin touching skin in surgery so I believe they will stop skin touching plant in this case."
"Ingenious. So, I assume you are going to harvest stems, rather than bulk seed or drawings?"
Adamantia ducked her head and muttered, then straightened and fearfully looked him in the eyes. "I want to harvest chords, sir."
Severus went still for a moment or two. "Ambitious. And are you equipped to accomplish such a thing?"
"I-I have perfect pitch."
Nodding concession, Severus dug in his pockets and brought out a folded white cloth. "In that case, I believe I will gather bulk seed," he agreed as he shook out the fine sail with its catching pockets at top and bottom. By carefully guiding it into place, he completely covered the far end of the patch so that the wind billowed the material and its shadow away from the quickly maturing seedpods.
Leaning forward, Adamantia ducked her head and smiled shyly as she waited in companionable silence until the first pure, clear note rang out. The pods began to swell and ripen, first the fat seed itself then the long metallic sail that would carry it on the breeze. It was the sail that struck against others on its stalk and caused the windchime effect when the winds blew. Some plants grew enough seeds to make a full octave but a harvester had to cut them at the perfect second to get a genuine octave. Most stalks grew five seeds and some made perfect chords which, if they were harvested at just the right moment were very, very valuable to any Apothecary shop. Rarely, extremely rarely, the Windsong grew a dissonant, a set of seeds that were so disharmonious they sounded terrible. These pods were the rarest of all and were almost impossible to get hold of.
Snape watched as the child's head tilted and nodded, her long, thin-fingered Snape hands held the knife competently between gloved fingers. Her deep black hair strands blew across her cloak, shining and clean, unlike his own well-potioned lank locks. She moved quickly and smoothly as the silver knife flashed against the purple gloves and a small stalk of seeds was carefully laid to rest in the cotton lined box she had already placed on the flat rock beside her. As soon as it was down, she went after another and another, wasting no time in excess movements, all the time her head twisting and turning, listening intently to the sounds from the garden patch below. Suddenly she jerked and twisted, her knife flashing very fast as she cut once, twice, three times, then made a tiny noise of… triumph? Which quickly turned to disappointment as a gust of wind suddenly hit the well ripened patch.
With a mighty crash of musical mayhem, the ripened seeds took flight, blades whirling as they flew upwards toward freedom and clattered into the sail Severus had positioned. Adamantia yelped and clutched her face as two of the sharp edges sliced across her cheek. She stumbled backwards, only to crash into a large furry body that stopped her tumbling down the slope, a heavy paw anchoring her cloak.
"Good catch, Harry," Severus muttered distractedly as he carefully wound in the sail, trapping the seeds without damaging them. As soon as they were stowed away safely, he glanced down at his niece and shook his head. "How bad are the cuts?" he asked, grasping her chin and tilting her face up. The two parallel gouges ran from her ear, across her cheekbone and up her nose, both dripping rivulets of blood down her face to her chin. Shaking his head, he drew his wand and sealed them cleanly, removing all trace of the injury. "You'll know better next time," he remarked without rancour as Harry nudged in for a pat.
"I heard they cut but I didn't think they meant it that badly," the girl mumbled, a shy smile on her face as she looked down, then giggled in excitement. "I did it! I did it! Look, sir, I got twenty stalks, all perfect without a single seed drop!"
"So you did, Child, so you did. So, are they any good; that is the question? Go on, sort them out," he encouraged, squatting his long length down to watch as she carefully separated the stalks and lifted them, one by one, to listen to the chimes.
"B flat, B flat, C sharp," she murmured as she sorted them into chords, then carefully laid the dissonant stalks aside. "Sir, these ten stalks make up four perfect octaves in C major, is that any good?" she asked shyly.
Severus paused. "Are you sure? Very, very sure? If you are perfectly certain, then I can probably sell them for you for a conservative two hundred Galleons, conservative."
She glanced up open-mouthed, even more amazed when she saw he was deadly serious. "I thought… Can we really sell this stuff and make money?" she asked curiously.
Pursing his lips, Severus glanced at Harry Cat who was lying watching them and purring slightly. "Yes, Child, we can sell anything we collect. Usually, I use the school resources to stock the school stores but special things, like these, are sold privately. Half the profits I put back into the school coffers; the other half goes to our personal pockets. Between you and I, young lady, how do you think I survived my schooling?"
She giggled and nodded her agreement before turning to the last four stalks she had cut. "These ones are a problem though," she mused, twisting her nose as they rang horribly.
Severus stiffened. "No, those ones are even more valuable than your octave but for a very different reason. They are used in destructive potions which are strictly controlled by the Ministry which means legally they must be sold to the Ministry or St Mungo's. The second option is to replant one stalk in a secret location so that there is a better chance of getting discord plants, then sell the other three to the Ministry like a good child. The third option is to sell them on Knockturn Alley. You can get ten times as much as the legal price but the penalty for selling them is ten years in Azkaban, if you are caught."
Adamantia bit her lip. "What would you do, Sir?"
"Plant one, sell two to St Mungo's, and keep the fourth for myself," Severus replied promptly.
"And what would you use it for, Sir?"
The black eyes never flickered. "Experimental purposes, of course."
Harry Cat snickered.
"Alright, let's do that, then," Adamantia agreed. "You sell them off and keep the last for yourself for experiments. Take the rest and sell them wherever you think fit and we can share the profits between us, as long as I get a share of the profits from your collections." She used her chin to point to the carefully wrapped cotton sail full of seeds.
Severus chuckled and held out a hand, the cousins shaking solemnly to seal the bargain.
"I-I have some lunch, Sir, if you would like to share," she offered tentatively.
"No thank you, Child; squatting on a rock is fine for gathering treasure but not for eating with any dignity at my greater age. I shall be about our business as soon as possible, as Windsong seeds do not keep forever unless properly preserved. Don't catch cold," he tossed over his shoulder as he stood and stepped off the rock gracefully, the seed boxes and bags following him in a line. "Coming, Harry?" he called but the cat merely rolled over in his patch of sunshine and ignored him.
"Do you want some lunch, Harry? I have ham and cheese sandwiches, and chicken and lettuce, too," she offered temptingly.
Harry morphed a little, just enough to speak reasonably clearly. "I like ham," he replied and accepted her offering as his due.
"Cousin Severus must have been in a really good mood this morning," she mused while eating, staring out over the Black lake.
"He was," Harry replied unexpectedly. "Do you want to go look for unicorn hair this afternoon?"
"Can we?" Adamantia asked, turning to grin at the small cat in excitement.
"Yes. They were near the wards last night, so there may be some hair snagged on the trees near the edge of the wards."
"Okay, let's finish lunch and go!"
oo0oo
The Forbidden Forest was dark and cool this early in the year; forbidding, Adamantia thought as she sucked in a deep breath, then stepped into the shadows. Harry miaowed in amusement as he led the way; tail held high as the shadows swallowed them up. The footing was slightly springy as years of pine needles cushioned the earth. Deciduous leaves were interspersed, adding a leafy-mouldy smell, earthy and heavy that billowed up at every step. No sunlight penetrated the thick canopy here; a dim, green twilight making the eyes play tricks and the nose rendered useless by the earthy scent. There were susurrations as the wind stirred the branches high overhead, the surf like noise muffling all sounds until she moved in a swirling blanket of white noise. It was disconcerting.
Harry suddenly appeared over a thick tree root, only his emerald green eyes easily seen until he looked somewhat daemonic as he miaowed, his white teeth gleaming in the half light. Adamantia giggled nervously as she scrambled up to join him on the thick, tough root that protruded from the huge tree bole. She caught her balance and stroked the sleek black head as she managed to scramble over the uneven ground, her hobnails providing traction in the slippery, damp conditions. She was very glad of her unorthodox woollen trousers when the odd spiky plant tried to claw her legs. There was very little undergrowth, probably because of the gloom, but there were fungi of many kinds from the tiny Mouse Eyes right up to a glorious Goddess' Hand Basin growing high up on what looked like a very old beech.
A perfectly-formed spider web wrapped itself around her face and she yipped as she clawed at the sticky strands that seemed to be made out of drawn steel wire rather than spider silk. Harry gave a little meep that sounded a lot like a giggle as she managed to fight free of the clinging net and scrub her cheeks to remove the feeling of ghostly feathers. Wrinkling her nose at his amusement, she continued to slither and struggle over the twisted tree roots, half hidden in the beds and drifts of pine needles.
Harry bounded ahead and upslope, stopped to sharpen his claws on the long root that crowned the crest. Huffing and puffing, Adamantia managed to make it up the slippery mudslide and grabbed a projecting knob to haul herself up the last of the rather steep bank; then stopped in wonder. Sunlight streamed into the cup-like depression, a small rill running through the middle, seeming to spring from under the roots of the fallen forest giant that had created the hole in the canopy and allowed the sun to touch the forest floor.
Ferns grew in abundance, feathery Asparagus ferns and shy but tough Maidenhairs clustering the stony little stream banks, softening the outlines and allowing the spray to make diamonds in the sun. At the edges of the clearing where the trees still cast their shadows, shy violets peeped out of the mulch. As the sun's dominion became more fixed, wood sorrel and wild strawberries held sway. A classical toadstool ring added a touch of surrealism to the scene, enhanced as Harry Cat strolled through the middle, dew glinting on his fur as he bent to drink from the running water.
At the far side of the clearing where the dried and dead tree roots were starkly waving, a gleam of silvery strands made a sharp contrast to the tumble of stones and the cave-like hollow under the tree roots. The ground below the roots was churned and bare and suddenly Adamantia understood. This was a scratching area where unicorns came to rub themselves on the dried roots and have their hides scratched and cleaned by the rough wooden fingers. As her mind began to process what her eyes were seeing, she realised there were many strands and strings of multicoloured hair attached to the various bits and pieces of the scratching station. It was a unicorn hair bonanza!
"Wow!"
Harry looked back and snickered as the girl began to negotiate the slope, her careful descent becoming an uncontrolled scramble as her footing slipped and she lost her balance. He immediately grew to a fair size and allowed her undignified run to crash into his side, which stopped her taking a header into the stream. Giggling and panting, the girl clung to his fur and leaned on him until she caught her breath.
"Thanks, Harry, I thought I was a goner there. This place is beautiful! However did you find it?"
Harry morphed into Harry Halfway. "My Severus found it and harvested the Styptics for Madam Pomfrey's cupboards. The water is good."
She nodded and bent to scoop a handful of the icy cold water, finding it sweet and crystal clear. At the edge of the clearing, she could see the Styptic Fungi just starting to swell. They were a key ingredient to a blood clotting potion that she knew Madam Pomfrey used in abundance. If they were big enough before she left, she would collect a few.
Hopping over the stream, she approached the scratching area carefully, looking out for things hidden in the dark recesses of the tree-roots. Quite often, things that lurked in the dark were too dangerous for a mere girl and a cat to fend off. However, the space was merely dark and dry, not harbouring hidden dangers and she let out a sigh: half relief - half giggle. Harry Cat leaped after her and wove around her legs, teasingly threatening to trip her as she began to pluck the first silver strands from the lowest root and coil them loosely around her left hand.
She had barely gathered five strands when a noise made her spin and crouch, Harry's fur fluffing up as he hunkered down beside her. Something large and noisy was blundering through the trees toward them. Adamantia dropped lower, slowly edging her hand toward her wand as the snorting, snuffling monster came closer, then burst into the peaceful clearing with a clatter of hooves.
A unicorn foal bucked and pranced as it entered the sunshine-dappled opening, its mother ghosting along behind it. The mare stopped dead at the dapple line, tossing her head high as her nostrils flared but the foal, less wary, skittered and danced out into the sunshine and splashed happily into the shallow stream, making the water arc and glitter as it fell back.
Adamantia held her breath as the beautiful mare slowly made her way toward the foal, no noise marking her passage. The sun turned her ghost pale coat to gleaming silver and the droplets her foal threw up made diamond highlights on her flank and withers. The twisted horn adorning her forehead was long and pale, the edges as sharp as razors as it dipped to touch the water. No wonder the place was so perfect, it was unicorn blessed!
The heedless unicorn foal playfully charged his mother, making rather squeaky challenging neighs, which his mother ignored as she bent to drink, then froze. Adamantia's eyes grew round with fright as the unicorn's gaze pinned her in place. For a second there was stasis then the mare flung up her head, her mane tossing wildly as she whirled on a hind hoof. The foal bolted to her side and they both vanished into the deep gloom of the forest as silently as if they had never been there.
The small girl collapsed at the knees, flopping into the dirt with a wide-eyed look of wonder on her face. "Did you see that, Harry? Unicorns… real unicorns!" she exclaimed in wonder. "So beautiful!"
Harry Cat allowed himself to be pulled into her lap and exclaimed over, keeping the smugness out of his miaow. He liked that his girl was pleased and that his suggestion had finally driven the hint of sadness from her face. After all, if you are to keep pets, you had to make sure they were happy with their lot, didn't you? Or at least, that had been Severus' rather sardonic comment on his friendship with the young Ravenclaw. Still, as pleasant as the interlude was, it was getting late and they would have to make tracks for the Castle soon. Nudging the girl's hands off his fur, Harry stepped out of her lap and butted her elbow toward the rest of the unicorn hair caught on the branches above them.
"Oh… oh yes, unicorn hair," she muttered, pulling herself together, tossing off the glamour and the thrill of the moment. "Good thinking, Harry."
Golden and silver strands were all mixed together and Adamantia carefully began to tease the two colours apart. She had a hefty bundle wrapped over her hand when she suddenly spotted them, black strands! A black unicorn was so unusual that it stopped her in her tracks before she carefully rebalanced herself to reach up and pull delicately on the rare fibres. Nearly out of reach, she grabbed a root with her hair-wrapped left hand to keep her balance.
Adamantia screamed as something hooked behind her navel and dragged her away. Harry felt the magic gather and quickly snagged both claws into Adamantia's cloak when he realised she had inadvertently triggered a Portkey. He hung on grimly as he was flung wide. He hated Portkeys with a passion but no one was stealing his girl without a fight!
oo0oo
Adamantia landed ungracefully in a heap of straw, Harry Cat tumbling free to sprawl in the bedding beside her. They were in a high-sided horse pen inside a large, gloomy barn of some type. Spitting out stalks, Adamantia scrambled to her feet and looked around in shock.
"Where are we, Harry? I don't think I like this place at all."
Harry rolled to his feet and carefully approached the log and post fence surrounding them, the tingle of magic strong but not aimed at them. His mind quickly sorted and discarded possibilities until he thought of the most blindingly obvious. Morphing, he turned to look at Adamantia. "Someone wanted to catch a unicorn," he hissed, his chin pointing to her thoroughly unicorn hair-wrapped left hand that still clutched the piece of tree root that had been transformed.
Shuddering, she was about to fling it away when she stopped and carefully placed it in her backpack, bemoaning the loss of her potions basket which had been left behind at the clearing. She wasn't sure why she should keep the now defunct Portkey but, with her luck, if she threw it away it would be a disaster in the making. Maybe they could track it to the maker and catch him, or her, out on some sort of legal charge, you never knew. "At least we have food and water," she murmured, offering the half cat, half human a drink from her water bottle before capping it and replacing it for safe keeping.
A noise suddenly made both of them alert, Adamantia feeling for her wand which was still in her cloak pocket, thank goodness. A lantern bobbed in the gloom and a hulking shadow danced on the wooden rafters as something thudded in the darkness beyond the lantern's light.
Suddenly the area was flooded with light and Adamantia was caught off-guard, blinking blindly while a voice boomed over her. "What the bloody hell are YOU doing in there?"
Harry spat angrily as a rough hand reached down to grab Adamantia where she had stumbled back and sprawled in the straw; four bloody furrows appearing on the back of the hulking man's hand. He yelped and swore, giving Adamantia time to scramble away, fetching up with her back against one of the posts as she managed to regain her footing, her wand clutched tightly in her hand.
"Stuffin' 'ell, Horace! Looks like your fool-proof trap caught a very scrawny unicorn, by the look of it," a second voice jeered and a smaller man peered down at the cat and the child. "In fact, I'd put my money on that being a kid and a common housecat. You bloody idiot!"
There was a noise like a clip on the back of a head and the smaller man stomped off, leaving the larger Horace to glare at the two in the pen. "Now look what you done!" he snarled, as he opened the gate neither of the pen's occupants had noticed before. Ignoring the hissing, spitting cat, he advanced on the little girl, who was having a good try at disappearing through the far post. As he towered over Adamantia, Harry suddenly grew to the size of a pony and slammed a heavy paw down on the man's head. He let out an oomph of shock and went down pole-axed.
Adamantia met the huge cat's eyes and shivered as she carefully stepped around her unconscious captor. Harry shrank and both bolted out of the pen, Adamantia turning to slam the gate behind her and cast a quick locking charm over it. He would probably be able to climb over but it would slow him down a little. Running wildly after Harry Cat, she barely heard his yowl of anger as she slammed head-first into an object that caught her by the scruff of the neck and tossed her to the ground. The small girl bounced on the cobbles as she sprawled, the second, smaller man having caught her far too easily.
"Ye little bitch!" he snarled, then yelped with fright as Harry Cat was there, big again as he straddled her fallen body, a snarl of pure rage on his face.
The man began to back-pedal but Harry sprang, both paws hitting him high on the chest and slamming him over onto his back. His head made a sickening crunch as it hit the cobbles and he lay completely still. Adamantia managed to regain her breath and crawled over to stare down at him, realising her hand had landed in the growing pool of blood under his neck. "Oh, Merlin, Harry, I think we killed him!" she squeaked in terror, trying to wipe the incriminating gore off, but it wouldn't go away, staying as a heavy, accusing stain until Harry butted his nose into her fingers. He must have cast a soundless evanesce as her hand was suddenly tingling clean and light again. She sighed deeply in relief.
"Hey, Kid, don't sweat it," a raspy voice said in the gloom and both young things yelped as they turned to huddle, Harry taking the forward position in case the new person tried to attack them. "Chill, Kid. I can't move so I won't hurt you. They have me chained to the wall, on a short, silver chain at that."
Eyes wide, Adamantia raised her wand and managed a weak Lumos which barely dispelled the deep shadows but was enough to light up a ragged creature who was indeed chained to the wall. Harry stalked forward and sniffed delicately at the nearest leg then wrinkled his nose and sneezed, making the young woman snort a rough giggle. Adamantia cocked her head as she moved forward to lay her hand on Harry's back and peer at the stranger curiously. "Who are you?"
"Sarah McPherson, werewolf no longer at large, at your service," she introduced ironically.
"You're a werewolf? You don't look like a werewolf," Adamantia muttered, glancing down at Harry, who was sitting cleaning his claws unconcernedly. "What shall we do?"
Sarah opened her mouth, then gaped as the cat morphed into something rather paradoxically half-human, its heavy, foreshortened jaws making it half–miaow, half-purr as it spoke.
"We had better take her somewhere safe because it's getting dark and the moon is full tonight. If she transforms with a silver cuff on her ankle, she'll go insane and… Ah, they wanted you to make werewolf parts, didn't they?"
"Bloody hell, a talking cat!"
Adamantia rolled her eyes. "Yes, Harry talks but not usually to strangers. Is he right, they wanted you for parts?"
"Humm, they're potions smugglers; of course they wanted me for parts! Now, Kid, more to the point, can you get me out of here? This chain is silver and your cat is right, it will drive me insane if I change with it on me."
"What guarantees do I have that you won't attack me as soon as you are free?" the girl asked shrewdly.
Sarah shook her head. "Cross my heart, I will not attack you or your cat. Okay?"
"Um, okay. Harry, what can we do?"
The cat huffed and strolled forward, extruding a claw. He hooked it into the cuff around the girl's ankle and sawed it back and forward. Sarah felt the tingle of very powerful magic as the white claw melted through the silver binding as if it was butter. The two halves fell away and she was free. Biting back a cry of relief, the girl bent and stretched her painfully blistered ankle a few times before scrambling to her feet and limping forward. "Come on, Kid, let's get out of here."
Adamantia bent and gathered the now normal-sized Harry Cat up in her arms and hurried after the loping young woman, her wand still in her hand.
The afternoon sun was dipping toward the horizon as they emerged from the barn which stood on a slight rise in the middle of a weed infested field. A ramshackle fence split the land and led down to a hedgerow which hopefully bordered a lane. Sarah hustled the child along, keeping a wary eye out for accomplices as she headed for the sty conspicuously set at the join of fence and hedge. She couldn't believe she had been freed at the hands of a kid and a cat! After all, it had taken three men with billy-clubs and silver chains to capture her. Even then, it had been a near thing, one man bitten badly enough to make this full moon interesting. She was reasonably sure he would not Turn but she hoped against hope that he would!
The lane was narrow and dark but looked like it was regularly used. Before Sarah could make a sensible choice, Harry jumped out of Adamantia's arms and set off at a swinging trot toward the south. The child followed him at a confident lope and there was no option but to tag along and hope for the best which came in the form of a signpost. Sarah let out a gasp of relief when she realised they were in Yorkshire and really not that far away from her pack's home.
"We need to find a phone box," she muttered, Adamantia blinking at her words.
"What's that?" she asked curiously as Harry sat down to watch the two of them.
"A phone, you know, to call my people to come and get me before it's too late," Sarah muttered staring around.
"Couldn't you just send a Patronus or something?"
"Huh?" Sarah did a double-take, then grunted. "You're a witch then? And a young one at that; you can't apparate yet, right? And even if you could, a Side-Along would be too much for you."
Adamantia hung her head and nodded. "Sorry," she muttered. "But if you are a werewolf, surely you are a witch too?"
"Nah, I'm one of the few Squib werewolves that survived, lucky me!" Sarah replied bitterly.
"AI can Apparate us," Harry said suddenly, morphing to almost human as he rose to his hind legs and shrugged depreciatingly.
"You? But, but you're a cat!"
"Yes, that, too." Harry purred, patting the rather ordinary short jacket he wore to locate a very ordinary looking wand. "So, where are we going?"
oo0oo
Harry glanced at the sun that was touching the horizon and tightened his hold on his girl before Apparating them away from the werewolf safe house. He had planned to stay pretty much in small cat form while Sarah had rushed inside to assure her Alphas she was safe and have her foot treated. Adamantia had stood awkwardly on the porch before an older woman had drawn her inside and made her fairly welcome. There had been some consternation over what to do with her if she was still there when the moon came but then Harry had made himself known to the pack.
Of course, the older ones had to recognise his human form and that adulation nearly made him disappear into his cat form again until Adamantia had stroked his head and calmed him down. His girl might only be thirteen but she was a pureblood and knew the proper way to behave in a formal situation. Her early training had stood her in good stead as she correctly made a truce pact with the Alpha, an older man who had fought in the war and been Turned at the battle for Hogwarts. Adamantia had taken it in her stride, clever girl that she was, and had even negotiated for werewolf hair to be delivered to her at school whenever they got the chance.
A very nice afternoon tea later, both Harry and Adamantia were ushered into the garden where they were assured that the potions smugglers would be dealt with. Harry had nodded his approval, gathered his girl close and made a decision based on his sun sighting.
Adamantia let out a squeak of pleasure as they apparated in the Forbidden Forest at the glade where they had been stolen from in the first place. Her potions basket was exactly where she had left it, still closed and undamaged. Giggling, she slipped a hand into her pocket and fished out the wad of unicorn hair, still wrapped in a bundle although nearly as tangled as it had been when she first found it, the black hair now interlaced with the white and silver. That was no problem; she could straighten it out later and see if Cousin Severus could use it or sell it for her. Putting it into another small cotton bag, she turned to look at Harry who was cleaning his claws near the water.
"We've had quite a busy day, haven't we, Harry? I didn't know you were famous and everything. Maybe you can tell me about it one afternoon, humm?"
"Or not," Harry grumbled, morphing to half-way to mutter a sulky reply.
"Or not," she agreed amicably as she picked up her basket and glanced longingly at the Styptics that were now full sized. "Do we have time?"
Harry grinned. "Yeah, why not? But we have to go soon as it really is getting late and my Severus will worry, which is not a good thing."
"Oh, absolutely not!" Adamantia agreed with a chuckle as she carefully cut fungi from their bases and stowed them on her basket. "Okay, do we walk or apparate?"
Harry offered his arm in courtly style and apparated them to the edge of Hogwarts' wards so that they were 'home again in time for tea.'
oo0oo
The storm of wings that heralded the arrival of post owls usually didn't mean much to Adamantia but today three owls landed by her plate each vying for her attention, much to her embarrassment. The first, a large Tawney, insisted on being recognised first, the purse tied to his legs jangling, the parchment thick and heavily embossed. It bowed to her when its burden was freed, accepted a piece of bacon and exited in a firm down sweep of wings. The second, a rather shy barn owl, also carried a bundle and bobbed its head as it consumed its bacon treat, waiting patiently until Adamantia dealt with the school-owl delivering a plain piece of parchment.
The school letter was from her cousin and stated that her private Gringotts vault had been credited with one hundred and thirty Galleons. As she didn't have a private Gringotts vault, she looked up at the staff table with a frown, then grinned as Harry Cat casually swiped a sausage off Professor Snape's plate without him seeming to notice. The potions master never stopped reading his paper as his hand shot out and grabbed it back, before the cat could jump off the table with it. She stifled a giggle at the byplay, glad her friend had such a good relationship with her cousin.
The jangling purse and rich piece of parchment cleared up the confusion. It seemed her cousin had opened a private vault for her. The goblins at the bank had sent her two keys, one to a small vault on the twelfth level with an extra key for her convenience. To deposit all she had to do was quote the number 56263 and the deposit would be made or funds withdrawn according to her instructions. Humming happily, she folded the letter and carefully placed the keys in her inner pocket so they wouldn't get lost. She would ask her cousin to hold one of the keys later when she saw him after lessons.
The last bundle was werewolf hair, lots of it, and a couple of claws, which she had not expected. And, right at the bottom, wrapped in a separate piece of padding was a small glass vial with bright red blood in it. Adamantia caught her breath in shock. The note that accompanied the treasures said simply that the Yorkshire Moors pack appreciated services rendered and wished her well on her endeavours. If she ever needed their services in the future, she was merely to ask.
Folding the note and pocketing the very rare but welcome potions ingredients, Adamantia went off to class with a light heart and a pleased smile. Life was certainly looking up!
End