Disclaimer: pick a previous chapter at random. That'll most likely give you the idea of who Harry Potter et alia belong to. (It ain't me, curses.)

Chapter 82

Simon was leery of so many people coming to visit him around sunset, especially when one of them was floating through the air at wandpoint. He made hollow snorting sounds and refused to approach.

Over on the other side of the castle the sun was a fat molten ball fast disappearing over the horizon, forcing an almost palpable orange light between earth and overcast sky. Encouraged by the coming dark and possibility of rain, insects were coming out to partake of these last minutes before the predators of the night arrived to feast on them. Harry shivered. He couldn't see if Dumbledore was coming, but Dumbledore would have a brilliant view of the hillside all lit up in purples and muted orange with the last of the sun limning the heather and coaxing the lichenous rocks to crinkle with textured glow in the sun's last gasp-efforts to ward off the darkness.

You and me both, Harry thought as his mood swung briefly back to dour. "Get a move on, Malfoy. Maybe I should catch him. He likes me better…"

Draco shot him a look so poisonous Harry could have bottled it and used it to test bezoar efficacy. "I can catch my own horse, thank you."

But it didn't take long before Draco grew exasperated. He walked halfway down the far side of Squirrel Hill, headcollar in his hands, to where they'd followed Simon. It was a stroke of luck Dumbledore hadn't thought to move the original set of tack in the barn (or the headcollar from where Harry had left it by the gate), otherwise they'd have had to manufacture their own, something neither Harry nor Draco were keen on trying at such short notice. It was even better luck that Simon was in the sort of mood to sulk in the shadows rather than in line of sight of the castle. "Look, Longbottom isn't here and Black is only a temporary balloon…" (Sirius was still floating with his eyes closed) "… Oh, come on, Simon. Look! Peppermints! I've … got … pep-per-mints…" Draco sang.

Fortunately the bag he rustled really did have a couple of peppermints in it. Harry wouldn't have guaranteed anyone's safety tonight with Simon's temper on a very short fuse.

But the surly stallion was coaxed closer by the peppermints ("No, I'm not going to run after him," a cross Draco informed Hermione when she asked, "because while I thank you for your faith in my fleetness of foot, I assure you I'm not quite as fast as him.") and permitted Draco to buckle up the headcollar.

"There we go. Good boy, Simon," Draco smiled, patting the horse on the neck. "No, sorry. No more right now," he added when Simon sniffed at his pockets after crunching up the offered peppermints. "Get me and Potter through the barrier safely and I'll make sure we stop in at Honeydukes on the way back."

Simon sulked, his dark eyes glittering with some pent-up emotion that wasn't quite rage or nerves or sheer cosmic bloody-mindedness, and which might have been endemic to horses. Or possibly Slytherins. Harry associated it with that House for some reason.

"Don't think he's got another migraine, do you?" Harry muttered, worried by this possibility.

Draco lifted his wand and cast a basic diagnosis spell. Apart from his usual disdain of wands, Simon didn't seem upset by it. "He's fine. You'll get us through the barrier without a worry, won't you, Simon? Course you will." Draco ruffled Simon's forelock.

"Couldn't pick me up some more jellyslugs, could you?" Ron asked, hands jammed into his pocket. He seemed to be enjoying himself, possibly for the same reason Harry was: they were finally doing something. It was the waiting that had started him on the road down to Crazytown, Harry realised. The waiting and the wondering and the worrying.

And now he was doing.

Yeah.

Despite those waves of malevolence emanating from Simon acting to remind him heavily of detentions with Snape, Harry was doing something and it felt good.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Potter? Want to ride him without a saddle? That'd be good for a laugh…"

"Yeah, providing it's you riding him, Malfoy." Harry wasn't really in the proper mindset for a witty comeback. He kept thinking that any minute Dumbledore was going to come and then there'd be all manner of trouble.

How long had it been now? Hooch had been on her way up to Dumbledore's office. Would they be walking down the stairs at this very moment?

"Harry, you're grinding your teeth," Hermione said.

"Huh? Oh." Harry took a deep breath and tried to relax.

They led Simon around to the back of the barn. Harry, the hood of his black cloak up, sneaked around the side to where he and Draco had stored the tack. "I've got the stuff…" said Harry as he scurried back with a bag and a saddle. "Hopefully nobody was looking out the window…"

Dumbledore's office had a really good view of Squirrel Hill. Harry couldn't stop thinking how fast time was moving. They were even closer to the time when Dumbledore, Hooch and Flitwick would come to catch Simon. What would they do when they caught a herd of students? More Obliviates without the soft buffer of the Golden Sickle to cradle tender minds? Harry realised he was grinding his teeth together again when Hermione gave him a sympathetic but exasperated look.

He took the cover off first, being careful not to snag any buckles on Simon. The horse wasn't just upset because there were too many people – Simon's eyes had an evil glint to them and there was nothing friendly in his attitude towards Harry or Draco. "No time to give you a brush, boy," he said to Simon as he put the saddle on the horse's back, sliding it back to make sure the coat lay flat.

"Hope that Imperius didn't scramble his brain," he muttered to Draco under Simon's stomach as Draco passed the girth through to him, sliding it back to make sure the coat lay flat.

Draco grunted assent.

Harry lifted the flap and threaded the girth straps through the buckles of the girth. He pulled. "Hey!" Harry squeaked, jumping back, alarmed and annoyed.

Simon put his back foot down firmly on the ground. The horse had unmistakably threatened to kick.

"Wow," said Draco.

Simon glared at something in the distance. The entire universe, probably.

"Let's try that one again," said Harry. He tightened the girth – not too much in the beginning, of course; Simon would murder them if his tender skin got pinched. This time Simon didn't kick out, although he swished his tail.

Simon moved his head away when Harry tried to bridle him. Harry persisted as patiently as he could (his urge to just grab the horse by the ear and jam the bit in its mouth might end up with maiming), then once the bridle was in place and the throatlash fastened, spent a bit of time smoothing the forelock over the browband. "Good boy, Simon."

Simon sighed and lowered his head and Harry pulled at his ears until the horse relaxed a little. "He's still rather upset."

"Should we do this?" Draco asked.

"Dumbledore means to go one way or another. There's no way Simon can be considered safe for him. We only get more and more arguments for that – even Stephanie told us so."

"Not safe for Dumbledore means there's a good chance he won't be safe for you," Hermione pointed out. She'd overcome her fear of the horse enough to come up and stroke his hindquarters. Elmsworthy had his wand pointed discreetly at Sirius – no telling what Simon would do at the sight of a wand, the mood he was in.

"Nothing's safe for Potter at the moment," Elmsworthy pointed out.

Ron glowered at him.

"What? Just stating the obvious. It's Malfoy who's got a better chance of surviving."

"And I'm going," said Draco, making up his mind (for the moment). "Simon will look after me, bad temper or no."

Harry frowned. "You put a lot of faith in a horse."

Draco shrugged. "Once he snaps out of this post-Imperius shock he'll be better."

"His confidence is dented. How are you going to snap him out of that?" Elmsworthy sighed. "It's not like there's a ten-second confidence building course for horses."

"No," said Harry, thinking of the Horse Mutterer book. "It'd take longer than that, and it would mean convincing Simon that me or Draco are in authority over him."

"Could be disastrous from what the painting said," Elmsworthy said pensively.

"Yeah." Harry ran his hand down Simon's nose. "Come on, Simon. Think of Hogsmeade and peppermints."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry…"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted. "He knows what he's doing. Merlin help us, but I think even Malfoy does. All the horse has to do is get them through the barrier. After that they can manage without it. They'll have Malfoy's broom. We're wasting time here."

"My God. I agree with Weasley." Draco grinned in disbelief.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay. Let's get that diversion sorted. You two ready?"

Hermione smiled at him; Elmsworthy nodded. "We are," he said.

"Sorry about this, Mr Black," Hermione said, although Sirius couldn't have heard her, Stunned as he was. "I hope you don't take this personally…"

"It was Malfoy's idea," Ron said. "Credit where credit's due… and blame likewise."

When Draco had outlined his plan, Hermione and Elmsworthy between them had invented a new spell on the spot. There were probably already spells of that nature, but neither knew one so they cobbled one together from an image-spell Elmsworthy had been working on and a Confundus Hermione knew.

Even Draco was impressed, Harry could tell. Ron seemed to be torn between jealousy of Elmsworthy and pride in Hermione.

Now they just had to hope it would work.

Sirius lay on the ground in front of Simon. Hermione pointed her wand at him.

At the sight of the wand Simon sneered as only a horse (or possibly a camel) can, but Harry kept a tight grip on the leadrope. "Easy there, boy," he soothed. "He's just got a bit of a thing about wands," he told Hermione.

"Really? He doesn't like wands? Gee. I hadn't heard about that." Sarcasm. "Do you think he'll attack me?" That sounded like genuine worry. "I notice Elmsworthy doesn't have his wand where the horse can see it."

"He'll be okay for you," Draco said. "He doesn't see you as being as threatening as Elmsworthy."

Elmsworthy turned his head. "What?"

"Well, he thinks you smell weird, Comrade."

Elmsworthy's sneer almost pickled Simon's.

Draco ignored it, telling Hermione, "Potter will keep him under control."

"Good." Hermione hefted her wand.

"… Probably," Draco muttered.

Hermione glared at Draco, who gave her his patent-pending innocent smirk.

She sighed. "Harry?"

"We're running out of time, 'Mione. Simon will be fine."

"Remember to get that flick before the swish," Elmsworthy told her, for the third time. "Like in the Confundus –"

She tsk'd. "Of course I will. I don't want to turn him inside-out. Oops, that's not going to happen, Harry…"

Harry was appalled at the idea. "I should hope not!"

("Probably won't happen," Elmsworthy muttered, and stared off across the treetops.)

"Never seen anyone get turned inside-out," Draco commented happily.

Harry, Ron and Hermione glared and Malfoy took the hint and shut up.

"He'll be fine, Harry," Hermione assured him. "Now… here we go… Praestigiae echohippus."

There was a soft blurred light and instead of one Simon there were now two.

The Simon in the headcollar arched his neck and snorted at this new one, which stood with its legs slightly splayed for balance, head down, just like Simon this afternoon after having the Imperius lifted. Harry decided it was appropriate and patted the real Simon on the shoulder. "Hope you're feeling better about things," he said softly.

Simon seemed more puzzled than anything, although the oddity of seeing his friend turn into a horse made him put his ears forward.

"What was that?" Ron asked. "Talking to your horse now, are you – ah, yeah, Malfoy, he's not Potter's horse, sorry. Yes. I am clear on that."

Draco took his possessive hand off Simon's nose and ramped the glare down a notch. "Right. Are you sure Black is a match… he seems a bit bigger than Simon… Here." He pressed the leadrope into Harry's hand and went to walk around the illusion centring on Sirius. "It's a bit fuzzy up close." He leaned in and squinted. "If you look hard, you can see him through Fake Simon."

"It'll do from a distance." Hermione pushed at Fake Simon. Her hands seemed to rest on the fake shoulder. Fake Simon moved sluggishly, out from behind the barn and into clear view of the castle.

"Ready?" asked Elmsworthy. "We need the finishing touch, the icing on the cake, the –"

"We need it quick," Hermione said shortly.

Elmsworthy (with his back to Simon) flicked his wand at the cover on the ground. It lifted and flapped over to Fake Simon, lying over his back like it would on the real Simon. Elmsworthy muttered something and the cover paled two shades. "There. That will make him more noticeable. If they see Simon on the hill they won't be looking for him by the school gates."

Fake Simon stood with his head lowered. Harry cringed a little inside; it was Sirius they were doing this to. "He won't catch cold or anything, will he?"

"The spell will wear off in half an hour tops," Hermione reassured him.

"Or if it rains," Elmsworthy added. "Leaving someone in the rain without proper shelter counts as putting their life at risk." He scowled up at the low black clouds. "It's going to rain sooner than later. Hope he doesn't break free too soon."

"I hope he doesn't die from exposure," Harry snapped. He brushed a hand through his hair and gave Elmsworthy an apologetic look.

"You'd never be prosecuted for it," Draco said. "He's an escaped criminal, even if he was framed. That's the thing about being an outlaw – you're outside the law. It can't be used for your protection."

"Yeah, and even when you're inside it, the law never gets used for your good," Elmsworthy sneered. "This country has gone to the crups – heard about you being dragged before the Wizengamot the other year, Potter. Ridiculous state of affairs." He carefully didn't look at Draco, although he must have known Lucius had arranged the travesty. "Why do you think all my family is overseas?"

"Thought it was something to do with the sun," Draco sniffed.

"That too."

Harry shrugged, more interested in what was going on right now rather than the slings and arrows of last year. He turned back to a more important topic than the law, which had always seemed a bit nebulous to him, something used by the rich and the powerful to maintain their status quo, certainly not something that was used decisively in his defence. "Simon was a bit funny after Dumbledore Imperio'd him this afternoon. But he seems better now. Turning Sirius into a horse has cheered him right up."

"I dunno. I'm positive it's why he was hard to catch," Draco suggested, staring at the imitation Simon. "And tried to kick you."

"He's sorry for that," Harry said.

Draco snorted. "No he's bloody well not. I wonder if he's got some residuals kicking around his system… We might be able to clear them out." He took out his wand and began to run it over the horse.

Harry looked around. "Come on, come on… Someone's going to come along and wonder why we're up here with Fake Simon…"

Draco glared at him. "Now I know why they called you 'Harry'. Stop harrying me."

"Why'd they call you 'Draco', then?" Harry grumbled back.

"I'm a star. Constellation, rather."

"Speaking of stars, which leads us conveniently to going nova, Simon's going to bite someone in a minute," Ron pointed out.

Draco sighed and put his wand into his robes. "Right. Simon's not obviously injured or carrying physical residue from the Imperius – nothing I can leech out, anyway – and the Animagus is about as good a copy as we're going to get. He's a tad taller and more solid than Simon, but he should pass muster for anyone who doesn't know Simon as well as we do."

"Pity we can't recreate the spell in Simon's chest," Hermione said. She tilted her head, eyeing Simon's chest. "I'd love to know how that works…"

"Maybe later. And when he's under heavy sedation," Harry said. "And when I'm in another country. Like China. Or maybe Fiji, which has a big happy ocean around it. Okay – let's go. Quickly, now." He tugged at the leadrope. "Gee up there, Simon."

It was a good thing Simon was black; a grey or palomino horse would have been easily spotted. They jogged down to the gate, the hoods of their cloaks drawn up to shade their faces, Simon following reluctantly, dragging at the leadrope.

"Come on, Simon," Harry puffed. "What are you meant to be? A mule now? Cripes, if he refuses to more out of a walk when the Dementors come after us we'll be in trouble."

They scurried through the gate, worried as they were Dumbledore might have a charm on it to let him know when it was being opened (the charm on the fence meant they couldn't cut a hole in it on the other side of the hill without alerting the Headmaster).

"Can't you make him go any faster, Potter?" Draco's boots rustled through the long grass softening the curves of the hillside as his broom glided down the hill. Simon sped up grudgingly when the boy got too far ahead for his peace of mind.

The brisk pace didn't last. Simon was even more mulish when he realised they were going towards the Forest. Harry felt like running behind the horse and giving him a boot up the backside to get him moving faster, but that would have been more painful for Harry than Simon – Simon wouldn't restrain himself to an affronted glare, not when he had hooves at the ready.

The horse finally roused out of himself when they skimmed the edge of the Forest. Draco circled back. "Look out, Potter…"

Simon had his ears back, but it was Ron who got the nip when he tried to go between the horse and the shadowy trees.

"Ow! Why's he always picking on me?" Ron moaned.

Draco smirked and made a jaw movement unmistakably that of someone biting his tongue.

Harry took a firmer grip on the leadrope. "You three going to be all right from here?"

"We'll be fine, Harry," Hermione promised.

"We'll hide until it's time," Elmsworthy said. "I've developed a new spider-repellent –"

"Why didn't you use it the other night?" Ron complained.

"That was why I developed it," Elmsworthy sighed. "The potion to repel all the other nasties we might find in the Forest was in the bandoleers, but hopefully the spider one will work."

"Don't you know?"

Elmsworthy shot Ron a scathing glare. "I haven't had an opportunity to test it."

Hermione stepped between them. "We can hide in Hagrid's hut. I asked him earlier. He promised he wouldn't tell anyone, not even Dumbledore, although he didn't think we'd really be hiding from Dumbledore..."

"Oh." Elmsworthy looked disappointed they wouldn't be testing his potion.

"What if Hagrid accidentally tells Dumbledore?" Ron said. "Remember Fluffy and the bloke down at the pub who turned out to be Quirrel?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry cut in impatiently. He blinked as the ambassadors of the thunderclouds speckled his glasses. "So long as Draco and I are on the other side of the barrier, it might even be helpful if Dumbledore's with you. Much safer, I should hope. But we're never going to get there if we don't go. Now."

Draco was nodding. "Granger? Five hours from now you need to be at the tree, all right? Nothing too precise – we don't know if the time difference is four and a half or four hours and twenty minutes. And while the potion should keep the trees above the threshold of destabilisation for a whole two hours after application, its peak is exactly at the moment of application and the standard deviation is pretty tight, so it's best if we get the potions applied within twenty minutes of each other. All right? All right. Potter, you ready, too?"

They'd already calculated it would take half an hour to get through the barrier and to the two trees, Simon willing. Once outside the barrier Draco would have his broom for the tree up in the hills, and Harry would be able to get to the one near Hogsmeade on Simon. Or walk if need be, but it shouldn't be more than ten minutes to get there.

They all had their fingers metaphorically crossed to ward off the possibility of the trees being guarded by Death Eaters or Dementors.

Harry and Hermione pulled out a pair of old stopwatches Elmsworthy had "borrowed" from some non-specific place the castle. (Elmsworthy wasn't saying and they weren't asking – some things were better left alone.)

Draco pulled out a third. He and Harry set the watches four hours and twenty minutes ahead to Hermione's zero. "On three. Three… two… one… Start your watches."

Three fingers clicked three buttons on three watches. The precision wasn't really necessary, not with the potion keeping the trees destabilised for a whole two hours after application. But it made them happy.

"Right," Draco said, smiling nervously as he tucked the watch into his robes. "Got everything you need?"

"Yes," Hermione said. She sounded less exasperated than she would have had it been Harry asking – she and Draco were still in an armed truce.

"Take these," Elmsworthy said, handing a small assortment of phials to Harry and Draco.

"Er… thanks. But what are they?" Harry asked.

Elmsworthy shrugged his rangy shoulders. "Nothing special. Just chuck 'em and run when you need a distraction."

Draco and Harry exchanged a wary glance as they pocketed the bottles, neither wanting to insult Elmsworthy by refusing his (potentially) kind offer. But Harry made sure he kept them separate from the other, more important bottle of anti-Voldie potion and the darts.

Draco straightened his cloak so it hung balanced over his shoulders. "Right. I've been waiting to say this for bloody ages now: Are we there, yet?"

Ron snorted. "Go on. Both of you… and the horse you're about to ride out on. Get moving. Good luck. As for you, horse, if you don't see them safely out of the barrier don't bother coming back. You won't get any peppermints from me."

It was lucky Simon couldn't understand him or he might have been bitten again.

ooOOoo