Disclaimer: nope, still not mine. I make no claims to what lies herewithin. Blah blah. See chapter one for a much better disclaimer.

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Chapter 61: Radioactive Goo and the Sound of Figs

Harry stared down at his hands. The beauty of the morning fell flat when the company he shared it with wasn't interested in his presence. Luna, sitting next to him on the branch, barely seemed aware he was there. She was too busy studying Simon, a faint line between her eyes, as the horse moved over the small patch of ground allowed him by the stretch of the leadrope. And Simon was more interested in that prime mover of equine affairs: the belly. He would fill it soon at the speed he was ripping up the grass, although not if he kept throwing his head up, checking around with wide nostrils and swivelling ears for any hint of the monsters horses knew inhabited each and every shadow.

Although in Simon's case, Harry thought glumly, the monsters were real. He'd already nearly taken down a werewolf this morning, and when would poor Sirius have the cast taken off?

"I'll go and check on Sirius," he said eventually.

Luna nodded, not taking her eyes, which were a little puffy as if she hadn't slept last night, off Simon. "Okay. I'm going to sit out here a little longer. Then I'll let Simon go." That line didn't lift, and the tight upper lip suggested she was still upset.

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered back around to the door. He kicked viciously at some offending thistles on the way. The thistles were elderly and a bit scrawny – Simon ate the younger, more vibrant ones. Harry wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes: the horse would paw at the base of the thistle with the same delicacy he used when scratching his head with a back hoof. Then, when the thistle had been knocked down to his satisfaction, the horse would eat it from the base up.

Harry still didn't know why. Maybe it was something to do with how Simon liked stomping on things. It was the equine version of preparing cordon bleu. But it wasn't like he could ask Luna right now, not the way she was.

He tiptoed into the stable.

Sirius was lying still. Most people looked more peaceful when they slept. Sirius wasn't one of them. Bereft of animation, the lines carved down cheeks and along the brow and the sharpness around the jaw and cheekbones made him look like he never smiled.

Harry stood there thinking, staring at his godfather's prematurely aged features. Azkaban… And then Harry had the startling, unwanted thought: Will I look that old that young? I've been hounded all my life – either by Death Eaters or Dursleys. Will I –

Dark thought were interrupted by soft hoofbeats coming around the side of the stable.

Simon, headcollar on but leadrope gone, whuffled softly and pricked his ears at the sight of Harry.

There was no Luna. Maybe she'd gone down to the castle without waiting for Harry. Now there was a new ache.

Harry sighed and turned to rub his hand up and down Simon's forehead.

Simon pushed into it happily, then shook himself all over like a dog. He turned his head to peer with shining dark eyes into the stable, which was much darker with a horse standing blocking the light from a doorway as wide as the horse was long. Simon and the overhanging eaves, high though they were, conspired to fill any sight of the sky quite neatly.

"Y'know, it's lucky Simon didn't turn into Snape," said Sirius, making Harry jump. He'd been sure Sirius was still asleep. Sirius, rubbing his eyes as the horse moved carefully past Harry to go and sniff at Sirius' hair, yawned and continued, grimacing as the horse decided that maybe the hair should be taste-tested, "Simon only tried to kill me. Snape would have, oh, killed me, resurrected me, killed me again, and smirked about it as he flushed my smoking remains down the toilet." He patted Simon fondly on the muscle above the horse's knee. "At least Simon doesn't bear any grudges. Did you see the way he put his ears back when Remus was telling me off?" He chuckled.

Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't see that." Then he remembered. Oh, yes. That was the bit where… no, one of the bits where Simon had tried to attack Remus.

"You got the Sickle with you today?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just curious. I've been thinking about it. Maybe it needs to be examined under certain lights or something."

Harry checked outside. Nobody coming up the hill. There were some students throwing a ball around down by the lake, some girls sitting in a semicircle around – Harry squinted – oh, that'd be Bartolomew Thrikes, who thought he was a bit of all right and the next Byron (and hadn't that been a shock for Hermione in History, learning Lord Byron, he of the 'mad, bad and dangerous to know' had been a wizard!). Harry privately thought Thrikes was a bit of a twat and the next Lockhart.

There was Dean Thomas around by one of the glasshouses. Who was he with? Oh, Justin Finch-Fletchley. And there was Seamus, coming around the corner. Harry squinted harder. How strange: there seemed to be some sort of an argument…

"Harry? Anything out there?"

"Not really." Not even Luna. She'd probably gone down the other side of the hill, avoiding even line-of-sight contact with Harry, he concluded.

"What?" asked Sirius as Harry slouched back inside the stable.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You look like – never mind. Let's talk sickles."

Harry pulled out the Sickle. Simon sniffed at it then turned away, apparently bored by the fact it was inedible.

Passing the Sickle over to Sirius, Harry regarded the horse gloomily. He still had mixed feelings over Simon remaining Simon. "Anything from the Sickle?"

Sirius was running his fingers over the blade, lightly skimming the metal, testing the edge with the tip of his ring finger. "No. Not yet. Hmm. That's odd…" Sirius held the Sickle closer to Simon. Then away. Then close again.

"What?"

"Don't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"I guess it's an Animagus thing… I've got excellent hearing. Listen to the Sickle…"

Harry bend his ear close, feeling like a bit of a pillock. "I don't…"

Then he heard it.

It was a sound he'd never heard before, but it resonated deep inside at a level vaguely familiar. It was sweetly beautiful, but in a way he couldn't quite place. Then the memory of a smell rose, something moist and filled with decaying leaf matter, cool and comforting despite the sinister darkness. There was a sweeter backnote. Figs. Just like the smell of the one still hidden in his trunk.

"That's weird," Harry whispered. He pushed the Sickle closer to Simon. The pitch changed, sliding up the scale. It sounded like the hum of a finger on the rim of a wet glass.

"Levitate me," Sirius said, taking the Sickle back.

"Huh?" That sounded like a bad idea on multiple levels. Apart from the danger of tipping Sirius onto the floor, Simon might take offence at the wand and inflict multiple fractures.

"Oh, just give it a try."

"Your funeral."

Harry took out his wand, letting Simon sniff it. The horse didn't react in a noticeably negative way. Greatly daring, Harry flicked the wand at the bed and cast the spell.

The bed rose shakily.

"Now take me to the door. I want to get some sunlight."

Harry sighed. "Okay."

Simon backed up as the bed bumped against his chest. He didn't seem to be upset by the fact it was flying. But then horses probably got used to the strangest things, like guns and umbrellas and riding around in the backs of lorries. Flying beds probably rated quite low on the scale of things.

"There," Harry said with relief as the bed landed with the barest bump. The horse turned around to sniff at Sirius' hair. Harry pushed back hot jealousy. Simon was his horse, not Sirius'!

"Good job. Now, let's see…" He held the Sickle up at a careful angle. The Sickle bounced sunlight onto Simon's coat, and the black hide broke the golden light up into shapes almost like…

"They look like Ogham runes," Harry said.

"What do they say?"

"Dunno. Something about truth." He recognised that one – was the mistletoe one in there? He couldn't make it out, but then Simon shivered his skin at a fly and the patterns broke and fled into the glossy coat.

"Bizarre," said Sirius, frowning, tilting the Sickle in efforts to reflect the sun onto Simon's coat again. For a moment Harry thought he could make out a… but then Simon craned his head around to see what all the fuss was about and the runes disappeared back into speculation. "I'll try it out on other black surfaces," Sirius was saying. "Less twitchy ones. Funny you can't see the words on the blade. Maybe it's a magical prerequisite that the runes can only be read through reflected light. I've heard worse ones – there's a spellbook that has to be read by a ninety-year-old virgin under a blue moon… in the presence of her father."

Harry snorted.

"No, Merlin's truth – if it was a Muggle girl that'd be a problem, but witches and wizards live much longer." Sirius scratched his chin and grinned like a successful pirate. "Of course, the virginity is –"

"Hello!" Luna said brightly, making them jump. Simon whuffled greedily as she produced an apple. She must have been saving it from earlier. "What are you talking about?"

"Olive oil production," Sirius said smoothly before Harry could die of terminal embarrassment.

Death by terminal embarrassment was saved for the next moment, when Luna replied: "The best olive oil is pressed by seventeen year old boys who are still virgins. Apparently you can use it in hydrophobic potions. When do you turn seventeen, Harry? If you want a free holiday in Greece I've heard they hire young wizards especially for the harvest. Did you do that when you were a lad, Mr Black?"

"No, I was disqualified by the age of fifteen," Sirius said. His eyes gleamed. "I was a bit much of a lad, it would seem."

"Oh. Well, if it's any comfort you're not the youngest… er… disqualification Hogwarts has had. It's terrible, all the underage sex that used to go on before the chastity wards were erec- er… put up. So many people who were unable to get full marks for their OWLs, let alone their NEWTs because they couldn't use unico- … But Harry's gone very red, so maybe we should change the subject."

And they did.

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They changed the topic to something safer, like why the hell Harry and Sirius were stupid enough to be waving around the Golden Sickle out in the open where anyone with a decent teleocular charm could see it. Luna asked if they felt ready to hide it yet, and Sirius and Harry, exchanging one last meaningful glance twitched towards the horse (now going to sleep in the weak morning sunlight), agreed it might be a good idea. Harry could tell Sirius was itching to experiment some more. Well, maybe when he was back in the castle it would be safer. Horses weren't really research-minded animals. Simon might not be cooperative when it came to standing still with sharp metal objects being waved around him.

Harry and Luna walked down the hill together. She hadn't actually told him to go away, and Harry thought it might be time to insist on having a talk. If she was angry at him, he deserved a chance to explain himself. That was fair.

"Are you okay?" he asked as they closed the gate behind them. Sirius had been safely levitated back. Simon had followed them down and Harry gave the horse one last pat on the neck. Simon shook his mane and sighed, then turned and trotted back up the hill to the stable.

"He likes having company, doesn't he?" Luna remarked, watching the horse go. She seemed displeased; perhaps she was jealous of someone new in Simon's affections, too. "And no, I'm not really okay. It – I… Last night I suddenly wanted to talk to Daddy. To owl him at the very least. And I couldn't."

"Oh." Harry had noticed her eyes were a little red this morning. "I guess if Sirius hadn't been here I would feel the same."

"Yes. You're lucky. Everyone else – well, we don't have anyone. Just the staff. And each other. For what that's worth. Did you ever read Lord of the Flies?"

"Er, no. I think Sirius mentioned it once. Muggle Studies?"

"It might be. My uncle gave it to me for my last birthday. It was educational. I've been waiting for things to go like that here – children thinking they're doing what the adults would do, but mucking it up even faster than adult society would. I keep wondering if Slytherin will go like that. They might have been lucky."

"Having Draco in charge?"

"Millicent, actually. She's quite solid. Gives them someone they feel they can rely on. Draco's probably just as good but in a future threat way – Millicent is here and now; Draco's a Malfoy and a Black. If carrying grudges ever becomes an international sport, he'll play and win for England. All the Slytherins are too cynical to be impolite."

"Cynical? Don't you mean scared?"

"Maybe. But they're smart enough to know how to play the game. Rules are important to Slytherins. That's why they don't trust Dumbledore. He bends them in Gryffindor's favour."

"I guess he does." A thought hit Harry as he stared at his feet, watching the path which was a little steep at this point. "Do you think he knows?"

"I hope not. I'd hate to think he does. But I think maybe he's just too old to realise how instrumental he's been in the division within Hogwarts. Or he thinks everyone is good and kind at heart instead of the competitive little jumped-up tree dwellers we really are."

Harry nodded. She had a point. Although to his mind 'jumped-up tree dwellers' was a little harsh. Strange. Luna could say something that insulted the entire human race as if it was a mere statement of fact devoid of anything emotive.

"So what did you decide? About your father?"

She shrugged. Harry took her arm as she stumbled over a root. She didn't shake him off. Something in his chest warmed, and he made a mental note to go back later and water the tree that owned the root.

"What can I do? Everyone else misses their parents. Who am I to whine? I just have to tell myself about the good things I have. Like Simon. And lovely summer weather. And I've got some friends now, too. That's quite fun at times. Trudi knows the best spells…"

Harry wondered if she'd stumbled because of her eyes being puffy. Maybe she was just tired. However, if she didn't want to admit to anything negative, who was he to pry? It wasn't as if he could offer the sympathy of someone in the same boat – part of him rejoiced at the Blockade because it meant he didn't have to go back to the Dursleys (even if they had written him off as legally dead, Dumbledore would have found some way of sending Harry back to them). He was here with his friends, here at the only place that had any depth of meaning to him.

"Although I'm still not happy with how you used Simon."

Uh-oh. Here it came.

"It's hypocritical of you to tell Malfoy not to make decisions on his own about Simon and then go and do the same thing yourself."

"I know. I really am sorry. But I was so sure I was right."

"About him being Professor Snape?"

"Yes. I know it seems stupid now, but… all the evidence pointed towards it."

"You don't think Professor Dumbledore would have known? Or cast an Animagus revealing charm? I think the staff put up some wards to stop Animagi coming and going – something to do with Rita Skeeter, goodness knows why. Maybe she's got an Animagus to spy for her. If that had been Professor Snape in Animagus form, the wards probably would have told the headmaster. Unless it was something to do with the hole he must have deliberately placed to allow Mr Black to come and go without alerting everyone…"

Harry's shoulders sagged. "Oh. I didn't know all that."

"No. Professor Dumbledore might have told you if you'd asked."

"Maybe." Harry wouldn't stake his life on it, though. "I thought the Sickle would help."

"But it didn't."

"No. Then I thought Sirius would be able to reverse the charm…"

She sighed. "Yes. But he couldn't. Or, rather," she said hastily to clarify, "he triggered the anti-theft charm. And poor old Simon went crazy. I've heard those anti-theft charms can be quite clever, but I don't see how turning a horse into a killer is clever."

"True. I do wish I'd talked to you beforehand. But the idea hit me all of a sudden…"

"…And you had to rush off and save the day."

"Er…"

Luna sighed. "I wish you wouldn't be quite so impulsive. It scares me."

Harry squeezed her arm. "I don't mean to. But I'm learning…"

"I know. And maybe sometimes it's better than the way the rest of the people around here sit around thinking about stuff rather than doing stuff."

"Really? You think?"

"I don't know. I'll mull it over for a while and get back to you on that one."

Harry laughed.

Luna smiled up at him and hugged his arm. "Please don't rush off like that. I've had these terrible nightmares ever since we went to the Ministry that night. And you keep dying in them."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Why? It's not like you really are running around doing stupid things and dying. Unless there's been something you haven't told me…" Her silvery eyes twinkled in the sunlight.

"So what do I do in these dreams of yours?"

"Well, the other night you went to Mars to enlist the Space Bunnies to help with your History assignment. But they were old enemies of Professor Binns and you drank the carrot juice they gave you and turned radioactive. That was all right at first, because you zapped You-Know-Who with your powerful radioactive laser-beam eyes, but then you turned into Spiderman, only evil, and Metropolis was doomed. Until Hermione told you gamma rays were carcinogenic, then you died and turned into a pile of goo."

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Who's Spiderman?"

"He was a sort of super-hero. I used to get comics from my uncle. I practically learned to read from comics. I liked the Donald Duck ones the best – you should read them. Very funny. Don't bother with Mickey Mouse. He's such a moralistic goody-good and his dog is really ugly."

"Oh. Hang on – Metropolis was where Superman lived. I saw the movie when it was on the telly. Did Spiderman live there too? Maybe they were neighbours."

"No, Spiderman lived in New York. Dreams are often wrong."

"No. Here's an example – I'm not a pile of radioactive goo."

"See? Now you know we're awake. Finding you're not a pile of radioactive goo is better than pinching yourself any day."

They were walking in the front doors when Harry said, "You know what? My birthday's coming up and if you want to get me something, I could really use some radioactive laser-beam eyes."

Luna burst out laughing. Her laughter rang around the staircases overhead. Some students stared. Harry ignored them: for once the stares and conjecture washed over him.

Life was good: Luna was talking to him again.

Not being a pile of radioactive goo was nice, too.

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