Disclaimer: Still not mine. Pity – could use the dosh.
Warning: waffle.
ooOOoo
Chapter 97
On the way back they decided not to tell the Aurors about the possibility of the Forest and Helga Hufflepuff being the primary forces behind Voldemort's defeat. Not even Luna thought the Aurors would accept that. Harry didn't want more articles in the Daily Prophet about how deranged he was.
Draco reluctantly accepted that he had to face the dangers of exposure as an active participant but he was wary of anything that might make him look in the least way unbalanced, although, as he said, "It's not mentally healthy leaping into a situation where people are trying to kill you."
"It's not brave, then?" Harry asked.
"No, it's lunacy."
"When are we going to tell them your mum was part of the resistance movement?"
Draco bit his lip. "I suppose we could tell Tonks or Moody, but…"
"Dumbledore knows," Luna pointed out. "Honestly, so many people know she was on our side…"
Draco groaned. "Oh, God…"
"Mr Black sent an owl out to her after you got back," Luna said.
Draco jerked to a stop. His face went white then pink as fear swiftly metamorphosed into anger. "He what?"
"Well, remember how I met you at the gates, and you told me Voldemort was dead and Harry was talking to the Aurors, and then you took Simon back to the paddock and Snuffles must have been lying behind a rock, and he asked me if I wanted to let my father or uncle know I was okay but I didn't, then I told him you'd be worried about your mother because – as he already knew – she was a double agent, so he went to the owlery and sent off a message, telling her you were safe and that the barrier was down. Didn't he tell you?"
"I've been up at the paddock all morning," Draco huffed, halfway between relief and annoyance. "Black hasn't been anywhere near me. Or so I thought… Hell, I hope nobody other than Mother got that message…"
"He said he used Hedwig. She's a very smart owl."
"She'll be a very tired owl when she gets back," Harry mused, himself halfway between relief and annoyance: Hedwig had returned to Hogwarts, only to be sent on a dangerous mission to Malfoy Manor. He flexed his wand hand. If Lucius hexed his owl he'd break more than the man's nose. "So she got back to Hogwarts after the barrier came down."
"And she's already back from Malfoy Manor." She squeezed Harry's hand. "I was going to tell you both but I was distracted by Millicent giving me that cake."
Draco sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, which was still scraggly. Simon's grooming had taken priority this morning. "I suppose there are safe places for my parents to retreat to until the Death Eaters are caught."
"They could always stay at our house. Daddy would be delighted – Mr Malfoy could write a shocking expose of life in the Death Eater camp. It would really increase the Quibbler's circulation."
"To what? Five readers?" Draco said nastily. "If you think it would be a good idea for my father to write stories about –"
"I think it would be a good idea for your father to publish before anyone else does," Luna said with less than her standard dreaminess. "If he wants to influence public opinion away from putting him in the stocks. If he isn't good at writing, I suggest getting a ghost writer. Professor Binns has a lot of experience with that. And as for your mother, I've seen pictures of her and she would make a marvellous sneaky heroine. Very dramatic. It'd certainly help the Malfoy cause."
Draco seemed to be considering this.
The walk back to the castle slowed to a stroll.
"So are you saying we should tell them about everything, including Simon and Draco's mum?" Harry asked after a few minutes' silent rumination.
"We tell them what Professor Dumbledore already knows," Luna said impatiently, as if this was obvious common-sense. Harry supposed it was, but as his brain was down to minimum working capability, obviousness (like common sense) wasn't readily available to him. He tried to concentrate as he realised she hadn't finished speaking. "…The silver shoes took you through the barrier, then the three trees were destroyed by the barrier-breaking potion, and Voldemort was killed when the glass took the anti-Vivicus potion under his skin."
Harry and Draco both found they couldn't argue with Luna. Not just because they were both too tired, but because when it came to the Aurors, simple was best. Even when it counted as lying by omission.
"I think we should tell Tonks," said Harry. "She deserves to know."
Draco shrugged in what seemed to be agreement. "She's family. Not that that necessarily speaks in her favour, but you get what I mean. Hello… it's the local happy mob of Ravenclaw third years. Don't they have class on a Thursday morning? Oh – by the all pointing and saying – no, shrieking – of: 'it's the hero of Hogsmeade!' – that means they'll be wanting you, Potter…"
Draco nearly fell over laughing after two witches grabbed a mortified Harry by the arms and posed for a photo. It didn't help that their attempt at the 'V for victory' sign was backwards.
"What's that meant to be? 'Up yours, Voldemort'?" the Slytherin sniggered.
Harry was more embarrassed than amused. "Right here and now I'll tell them you and your mum gave the key potion if you don't give it a rest," he muttered when the Ravenclaws fluttered away, earning him a glare from Draco, but at least the smirking stopped.
"So long as they don't go bothering Simon. He might autograph them with his teeth," Luna said in a voice less misty than usual, her eyes shrewd as she peered back in the direction of the paddock. When it was clear nobody was going up to the paddock (Dumbledore had reset the wards on the fence, Harry remembered), she turned her attention back to her Housemates. "Where were these people when we needed their help?" she grumbled. "It's just like that story of the Little Red Wren. Come on, let's see where Granger and Comrade Tyrol are – I want to know about a spell I gave them…" She grabbed Harry by the hand and dragged him through the Ravenclaws.
Harry must have imagined one of them complaining about Luna elbowing her in the ribs – Luna would never do anything malicious.
The Ravenclaws were only the first of many. Now that the initial shock of having the barrier down had passed, all of Hogwarts wanted to share in the adventure. After having a series of throngs of well-wishers rush up to him for autographs as soon as he set foot inside the castle, Harry pulled up the hood of his cloak against the rain and sneaked outside again. He spent the rest of the morning hiding at Hagrid's.
Hagrid, just leaving as Harry arrived, boiled him up some water in the gigantic kettle on the stove, and pointed out the tea caddy as well as a towel and a basin where he could have a wash. "…Not that I'm sayin' yer getting' too ripe, Harry, but cleanliness is a virtue…"
Harry had already washed off the worst of the muck in Hogsmeade, but some of the stains felt like they went deeper than his skin. Tonks had spelled his clothes clean, thank Merlin, but they were still whiffy, and something of the Dark magic of Voldemort clung from where it had touched him. Shame, really – he was fond of this cloak. But now he was inclined to burn it and everything else he was wearing for the public good. Burning Dudley's old hand-me-downs wouldn't be a duty so much as a pleasure. Now that he'd been kicked out of the Dursleys', he could raid Madam Malkin's for a new wardrobe. He didn't have to worry about Uncle Vernon noticing Harry suddenly sporting brand new robes and trousers and t-shirts. Harry had always feared the Dursleys getting suspicious about Harry's finances and getting their grasping hands on the key to his vault…
But now he didn't have to go back to Privet Drive. The protection of blood relatives wasn't necessary. He could stay with Ron. He could even stay with Hermione, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to put up with her summer holiday study schedule.
He could go to some place in the world he'd never heard of with Luna and her family (wow – he could go to another country!), and look for something fictitious, like Space Bunnies, Lesser-spotted Whoopkackers or Nargles. He was looking forward to meeting her father and her uncle, because he'd occasionally wondered if they could scale half the esoteric heights Luna was capable of reaching. If so, they were definitely people he wanted to meet.
He could find a cottage with some land in a quiet part of the countryside where nobody knew who he was, and relax in the easy company of Simon and Hedwig, with Luna, Hermione and Ron stopping by for visits.
If Simon was there he probably wouldn't be able to stop Malfoy from coming by, but Harry didn't feel as nauseated by that as he would have a month or two ago.
He could go to Grimma- … he didn't want to think about Sirius.
From Hagrid's bed he cleared off half a dead rabbit and some feathers that might have been from a quilt except they still had skin attached and tried to take a nap. His eyes closed, but for some reason his mind wouldn't stop whirling with random images. In what seemed like a waking dream, Bellatrix LeStrange was sitting on the end of his bed, lecturing him on medieval horseshoes. Her voice was husky and sweet, and half of her head was caved in. She stroked his face with a crushed hand.
Harry shook himself back into the closest he had to a waking state and made himself an extra strong cup of tea. He might have tried coffee, but Hagrid didn't drink it.
Even if he'd known where the firewhisky was kept, Harry wouldn't have risked it. He didn't need help with visions.
The milk slopped when his hand slipped on the handle of the jug, but more went inside the cup than on the table. Two, three sugars – something sweet to drive away the memory of a dead woman's hand on his cheek. That was the theory, but he couldn't bring himself to drink it. He cupped the mug of tea in both hands and let tannin-loaded steam tickle his face. It was a curiously cleansing experience, but it didn't lift the shadows and Harry didn't dare draw the curtains to let in the light in case somebody came to bother him.
Relief came at lunchtime, when Luna brought a clean and shiny (if drowsy) Draco down, and they sat on the log at the bottom of the pumpkin patch and threw pebbles into the trees which grew thickly just down the slope. Occasionally she would look up in the direction of the paddock. But from behind Hagrid's hut, trees blocked her view of Squirrel Hill. Harry eyed her as she brushed back a long curtain of hair which had fallen across her face. In her more lucid moments she kept reminding him of someone… but he couldn't quite put his finger on who it was.
Could be something to do with the fact that I need sleep, but she really reminds me of Simon some days – those days when he's half asleep and in a good mood, or those days she's distracted by something she doesn't want to talk about and in a bad mood. Maybe it's true about how people come to resemble their pets. Even Draco can sneer like Simon, and I think Simon learned Malfoy's smirk. Wonder if I've picked any odd habits up lately? There's falling asleep standing up – I think I've almost got the hang of that one.
Hmm. Better not tell Ron or Hermione my pet theory – Scabbers was a filthy traitor, and while Crookshanks is dead useful he's uglier than Aunt Marge's dogs. Hermione might get huffy and tell me she doesn't eat mice (better go check the Owlery for Hedwig – give her some owl treats) or claw people. Or – oh, what's Luna saying? Better listen in case I get roped in for carrying luggage up the Amazon…
She was saying: "…Professor Dumbledore re-established the wards on the fence to stop people wandering into the paddock, but they mightn't stand up to the high degree of massed intent such as Harry's been subjected to, psychological wards being highly sensitive to the collective will of groups."
"Huh?" Draco gaped at her as if she'd suddenly proven the existence of Nargles. "Merlin's beard. You sounded almost like Elmsworthy! Ugh – dog spit…"
"You sounded a lot like our Hermione," rumbled Hagrid, who'd just arrived back from the castle bearing more food. Fang lolloped ahead of his master to bestow sloppy licks on the hands of the students and have his ears ruffled by Luna. Harry had skipped lunch, and hungrily eyed up the roast chicken legs with an appreciation he'd normally save for Luna's legs in jodhpurs. "Couldn't understand that last bit," he said approvingly, "but it sounded almost like you, Malfoy, talking abou' the shoes you made for Simon. You were spot on wi' those." He took out a massive sandwich the house elves must have made specially for him and sat down on the log. It groaned and shifted slightly, Harry's end going up a fraction.
Draco preened, although his hands were clumsy as they smoothed the folds of his robes. "Didn't those shoes work well? But are you saying, Luna, we could just have stood everyone around and told them to think happy thoughts about getting through the barrier the Dar- er, V… Voldemort" – he swallowed – "put up and – boom!" He flicked his fingers wide. "It would have fallen down flat?"
Luna blinked. "Oh, no. Not quite like that. Different principle. The barrier was based on a temporal spell. Dumbledore's wards are quite different. Not Dark magic in the least. Meddigram Moths would drink the wards," she said. "When lots of people start wishing to get past a magical barrier, Meddigram Moths come and drink the magic. But they don't drink temporal barriers, because it makes them turn into weevils."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, that clears that up. You – oh, bugger…"
"What?" mumbled Harry through a mouthful of chicken. "'S not more people wanting autographs, is it?" Although Draco would have been smirking if that had been the case. Hell, I hope it isn't Sirius…
It wasn't. It wasn't Remus or Dumbledore either, or any of the other people Harry had been avoiding.
"Hi, you lot. Having a late lun- oops, bugger!"
Draco went to help Tonks up. She gave the bucket a dirty look. "Blasted things jump out at you," she grumbled, rubbing her shin.
"They do, rather," he agreed smoothly. "What?" he asked as she turned her dirty look onto him. "When I was blind all sorts of things got in my way."
"Simon didn't get in your way," Luna pointed out.
"No, and thanks to those idiots who put me in the pen with him, neither did the wall." He didn't look too cross at the memory, which roused Harry's suspicions. But before he could ask if Draco was close to fulfilling his revenge, Luna was asking Tonks if she wanted some pumpkin juice.
"No thanks. Just had a cup of tea with Remus."
Draco twitched.
Harry lifted an eyebrow, but before he could ask about that, Tonks said,"Harry, Draco, quick word?"
"Er…" Harry didn't trust his brain not to let his tongue say something stupid.
"Of course, dearest cousin. What was it about?"
Tonks rolled her eyes. "That'd better not be you taking the piss, baby cuz."
"All right. Point taken. No extraction of urine where Aurors are concerned. It's in their oath – they exchange their sense of humour for power trips over civilians. Ow! Abuse! Abuse and proof of what I just said! You saw it, Potter!"
"Saw what?" Harry replied as Draco rubbed his ear. Tonks hadn't bothered with a stinging hex – a flick of her fingernails had done as good a job as any a wand could have supplied. "I was blinking at the time."
"Hagrid and I were looking at that oak tree when Tonks gave her warm demonstration of familial affection," Luna said. "Hagrid, there might be a Bowtruckle in the tree. A Mr Shane Hardwood sent a letter in to the Quibbler once. He said they can answer questions if you sing them in the key of G. Shall we go and prove him right?"
Hagrid stood, swallowing the last of his sandwich and brushing crumbs off his moleskin coat. "'Bout time we tested that theory. Can you sing, Luna?"
"No. Can you?"
"Couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. I'm Keeper of the Keys, but G's never been one of them."
"Then this should be interesting."
Hagrid's beard shifted into a smile. "Aye. Might learn summat new about diff'rent keys – you can write back to Hardwood."
Draco shook his head as Luna and Hagrid wandered off, whistling tunelessly, in search of a Bowtruckle. "Soul mates," he said.
Tonks sat down in the place Luna had vacated and picked up a sandwich. "Mm, dragon feta. Been years since I had this," she mumbled happily. "So what happened? Unofficially? And don't give me the runaround, she warned," seeing Harry and Draco exchange glances.
Draco shrugged. "Unofficially?"
Tonks nodded. "Unofficially."
"Why should we tell you?"
"Because Dumbledore asked me to. He wants to make sure nothing strange might happen, and he knows if you tell me I'd be able to filter out any potential issues which might occur now Voldemort is evil pâté. He was hoping you'd talk to either me, Moody, Remus or Sirius."
"So why aren't they here?" Not that Harry was complaining. But he was curious. "Why not McGonagall?"
Draco's appalled look said Harry was a moron for even thinking of involving McGonagall.
Tonks swallowed a smile before it became patronising. "Right. It's a Slytherin thing. And as well as that, I had a few suspicions that a Malfoy mightn't want Mad-Eye Moody hanging around his secrets, and well, Remus is a werewolf, and Sirius is, erm, Sirius… so that left me. Dumbledore knew Harry might tell him the full story, but he knows you don't trust him, Draco."
"Why should I trust you?" Draco wasn't trying to be obnoxious; the calm look on his face and relaxed posture, shoulders angled forward at just that degree, meant the question was heuristic rather than born of suspicion.
(Harry was coming along nicely as a General Species Mutterer. If he could just get the Girlfriend Mutterer thing going, he'd write that book…)
Tonks might have been a People Mutterer; she took the question as calmly as Draco had delivered it.
"Because I can help keep your parents out of jail, for starters, Draco. Then there's a certain horse that pulped Voldemort – that's a horse which could easily end up confiscated as evidence, not to mention a test subject that the Department of Mysteries might decree as being important enough to national security to justify secreting away in some horse-sized closet you two would never have access to again – to paraphrase a song, Simon's walk-on part in the war could end up a lead role in a cage, exchanging a green field for a cold steel rail."
"Don't know that song," Draco said, tight-lipped, grey eyes cold at the threat to Simon.
Harry thought the words sounded vaguely familiar, but couldn't place them. Wyrd Sisters must have sung it, or Celestina Warbeck. Probably not Celestina Warbeck, he thought vaguely, but it wasn't as if he'd ever listened to enough music to say for sure. "Who the hell are they to take Simon from us?" he growled.
"The Department of Mysteries, that's who. What they want, they tend to get. There are hoofmarks on and around the corpses of Voldemort and Bellatrix LeStrange, as well as the suspicious crushing of one of the Carrows. Shame it wasn't both Carrows, but I'm probably not allowed to say that. It is going to be very tricky dancing around the questions about how those injuries got there. When it comes to understanding this latest defeat of Voldemort, no loose ends will be tolerated." She breathed out between her teeth, and her hair rippled in gloomy shades of grey and bottle-green. "There are those who have been pointing fingers at others who didn't ask enough of the right questions last time Voldemort was vanquished. People will be extra jumpy about making sure that this time there won't be so much as a whiff of possibility Voldemort can come back. They'll be taking apart the details of your story with tweezers and scalpels. They already know a horse is involved –"
"And they'll just… just take Simon?" Harry spluttered. "After all we've done, they can't just –"
"Hard to find a black horse in the dark," Draco said, eyes distant as he weighed up options.
"Don't try to hide him, Draco," she said levelly. "Your family will be walking a tightrope for the foreseeable future."
Draco's expression turned mulish.
Tonks reached out a hand to ruffle his hair, but he glared and leaned away from her. She pursed her lips. "Hey, I'm on your side. Look, I'm not saying that losing Simon is a given, simply that if there's any doubt as to the credence of your story, the Ministry, a paranoid set of politicos if ever there was one, will try to plug up any potential embarrassments in ways that are unlikely to benefit real people when it can save already shaky political careers. So I will give them your story and help you fill in those gaps in a way that allows those who truly deserve those benefits to reap them. Okay?"
Harry and Draco nodded, but from Draco's scowl it was clear that he was just as displeased as Harry with having to trust someone who, despite all she'd done to aid them, was still an outsider.
She blew a strand of green hair away from her face. "I'll take that as an okay. Good. Because there are more issues than a horse and a dead Dark Lord to be sorted out. Lastly and, as far as I'm concerned, most importantly, I want to know what you two were doing with unicorn blood on your eyes."
She spoke softly and with a small smile in the corners of her full mouth, but Harry and Draco were in no doubt that she was deadly serious. And when she said 'unicorn blood' they couldn't help exchanging incriminating glances.
"How'd you know about the unicorn blood?" Draco said after a tense moment when all that could be heard was Luna's tuneless warbling far off in the trees.
"I know unicorn blood when I see it. I also happen to know that unicorns were observed escorting you two – and your horse – into the Forest shortly before you would have emerged outside the barrier."
"It was gifted," Harry said. He coughed, his throat suddenly dry, and reached for the flagon of pumpkin juice Hagrid had left on the log, uncorking it and drinking deep. "A centaur named Tigris met us before we went through the barrier."
Tonks nodded, her shoulders shifting just enough to suggest this was the right answer. "Have you told anyone?"
"Apart from Luna, just you now," Harry said. "Although Ron and Hermione deserve to know."
"I don't see why they do. We agreed that it was not something we wanted generally known," Draco argued, crossing his arms defiantly.
"No, it wouldn't be," said Tonks. "The Light properties of unicorn blood are almost unknown by Wizardingkind except for a few Hufflepuffs. It's not something anyone wants generally known."
"So we're in agreement, then?" Draco challenged. "Nobody talks about having blood smeared on their eyes."
Tonks almost smiled again. "When you put it like that, it does sound a bit freakish. Yes, we're in agreement. If you like, you can tell me if there's anything in particular you don't want made public knowledge."
Draco and Harry looked at each other. "Simon," they said in unison.
"We already know a horse kicked Vo- … Oh. So he's not a one trick pony? What, did he cast the final spell or something?"
"No, he… kind of wandered into Hogwarts when the barrier went up…" Harry coughed again.
Tonks couldn't stop the smile this time. "All right. Unless someone comes whistling for him, let's call your horse spoils of war. For all we know he could be. He was never Death Eater property, was he?"
"Merlin, no. Of course not!" Harry said, and wondered why Draco didn't spring to Simon's defence as well. "None of them recognised him." He thought back to that time by the bridge, him slumped down on the ground, a Death Eater coming forward to take the reins. "They – they were surprised by him."
"I bet they were. Kicks to the head tend to do that, especially when it's the boss who's just had the animal jumping up and down on him. I bet those Death Eaters were surprised as anything. Now tell me everything."
They did – almost.
Tonks asked carefully about reports of Lucius being amongst the Death Eaters, and Draco did admit that by some amazing coincidence he'd bumped into his father who must have been out meeting local farmers to discuss wool-related matters, and his father had suddenly signed over all his affairs to his son. Yes, it was pretty amazing, wasn't it? But he had a copy right here…
Tonks' expression went wooden as she examined the document, but she handed it back to Draco without another word on the subject.
Harry tried to describe the way the Forest had spoken through him, but again the words couldn't capture that moment. But Tonks tilted her head and listened and he had the strangest feeling that she knew something he didn't – that he wasn't the first to have been possessed by a bunch of trees.
He didn't ask.
"…And that was when Draco took Simon back. You got back okay?"
"Yes, although it was a devilishly tricky business getting through the village. Loads of people out. I took Simon around the back of the houses – everyone was in the main street, so nobody noticed me. Or asked about the horse."
"Good. I'll try to distract anyone who asks about random horses passing through the area. You know, historically most people who defeat big baddies like Voldie get half the kingdom or a load of gold. You two want – drum roll – a horse."
"We're saints," Draco said angelically.
Harry, sipping from the flagon again, nearly choked.
Draco slapped him on the back. "All right, maybe 'saints' is a bit strong. I'll forego half the kingdom now for the whole lot a decade or two in the future. You two will vote for me, won't you?"
"You're not going to do something daft, like appoint a horse as Minister for the Arts or something?" Tonks asked.
"It has historical precedence."
"True, although the horse was Minister for Sports and had won the Grand National."
"Simon would scorn your Grand National," boasted Draco. "He c– ow!" He was cut off as a small paper aeroplane zoomed down and hit him in the back of the head.
"He's a cow?"
Grumbling, Draco ignored Tonks and opened the message. He sighed. "The Untied Republic of Slytherin – Untied? Wonder if that's a spelling mistake? Hope not, 'cos the idea of belonging to something anarchic has a certain appeal. The Republic of Slytherin, knotty naming issues regardless, requests information about the outside world. Somebody told them I was involved with the barrier coming down. Not Millicent, Elmsworthy or Trudi – they have discretion. I'd like to know who has the big mouth so I can give them a fat lip to match… Damn it, I guess I'll have to tell them all about Simon…" But he seemed to be unjustifiably worried by this considering the fact that the entire castle already knew he'd ridden Simon through the barrier to deliver the mail.
"You don't have to tell them anything more than you feel comfortable with," Tonks informed him. "You could simply tell them I've been talking to you – I'm your cousin, after all – and now you have a pretty good idea about what's going on thanks to me."
"Oh. Right. That should keep them on their toes. After all, there's no proof I was actually out there last night, let alone chucking bottles at Voldemort." He looked a bit happier, although still wary.
"That's the idea. But be on your guard – not just around Slytherins. There are students in all the Houses who've had parents bundled up by the Aurors this morning."
Draco swallowed and looked down at his hands, which had squeezed the message into a tight paper ball. That was when Harry suddenly realised that Draco had other reasons than pure secrecy to make him jittery – he remembered a dead man lying in the middle of the road. Had anyone told Theodore his father was dead? Surely they wouldn't expect Draco to do so?
But Harry had been right there. Maybe they would expect him to tell everyone who had lost family just how they'd died. He felt ill.
"Tell them the Aurors will be keeping the school informed about families who might have been caught up in events. It's not your job to have to break bad news," Tonks said to Draco in a sympathetic voice, but Harry felt just as relieved as Draco seemed to be by the words.
Managing a small nod of acceptance, Draco left them without another word. Tonks leaned back and stretched the kinks out of her shoulders as she watched him walk briskly back up the hill towards the castle.
Harry and Tonks sat together and finished off the sandwiches and listened to Hagrid and Luna trying to make contact with Bowtruckles. Tonks winced at one especially mangled note from Luna, and said, "You know, Harry, I forgot to tell Draco, but the quarantine is going to be lifted tomorrow for a select few visitors. Benign parents. I'm pretty sure you don't want the Dursleys at Hogwarts, but do you think Narcissa Malfoy would be out of order as far as select visitors go?"
Harry shifted, trying to get a more comfortable seat on the log. "Er… it wouldn't be dangerous for her to have the Aurors classify her as a benign parent?"
Tonks shrugged. She gazed around, the smudges under her eyes given a velvety texture by the soft light of the cloudy day. She looked tired but deeply satisfied. That talk with Remus must have gone well. Amazing what a cup of tea could do, Harry thought bemusedly. Tonks seemed well fortified by it. "Draco's already treading in some muddy waters. I didn't want to scare him, he's nervy enough as it is this morning – Mum gets a bit that way, that's how I recognise the signs – but the Malfoys are hip-deep in trouble. It might help him to talk to Narcissa and get his family's story straight as soon as possible. Meeting up with a woolgathering father isn't going to hold any more water than a leaky cauldron."
Harry regarded her levelly. His brain still wasn't up to functioning at full speed (not that that had ever counted for much, he thought with a small, inward grin), but he didn't want to drop Draco in it. "So what's their story meant to be?"
"Whatever he wants," she replied bluntly. "He's earned it."
"Even if it means leniency for Lucius?"
Her mouth twisted up at one corner. "I hardly think my little cousin is going to be lenient on someone who nearly broke the line of heritage. Especially now he's got that interesting little document."
"You seem to have quite a grasp on Pureblood motivations," Harry countered, lifting an eyebrow. At the motion his scar threatened to hurt, but the threat didn't quite eventuate. His scar – the threat – was hollow now, a reminder dug into the flesh by an enemy now gone. "How do you figure Draco is out for revenge?"
"I never said he was. But he's not about to allow Lucius the faintest chance of putting a tree across the tracks of the Malfoy name again. Old Lucius is going to suffer in a way he couldn't in Azkaban: he'll have his wines and his lands and his fine raiment, and he'll be totally without his power. You want to punish someone? Take away what they love. And there's nothing that bastard loves more than twisting people around his cruel whims. Lucius doesn't know it yet, but now he's been given slightly less power over his family's fate than your average house elf he's going to suffer for decades. Certainly the rest of his life, because Draco really did get a full magical covenant contract signed. … and you witnessed it, didn't you?" At Harry's cautious nod, she smiled the most evil smile Harry had ever seen on her.
She sighed happily, leaned back and tapped the heels of her boots together. "It's like some Greek myth where the son emasculates the father. Gotta love that when Malfoys are involved." She gave an evil chuckle to match the smile. "Mum may not talk much about her family, but what she does say is to the point. Makes me glad she married a Mudblood." She winked at him.
Harry wanted to ask if she really thought Lucius was being properly punished – it seemed impossibly light as sentences went. But: "Your badge is flickering."
She looked down. "Right you are." She squinted up the hill to where a familiar gnarled figure stood. "Poor old Moody. That dicky leg of his doesn't like tromping up and down hills, which is good in one way – he won't be bothering our boy Simon." She stood up and dusted fragments of bark off her robes, and strolled off: Moody was signalling her with an impatient wave of his hand.
"Work, work, work," she grumbled, but her grin betrayed her. "Hey," she called back over her shoulder, then skipped around so she was walking backwards away from Harry. "Guess who's looking forward to seeing Lucius grovelling as he tries to get his power back at the Ministry? Guess who's going to rub his nose in it? Guess who's going to demonstrate just how Halfbloods and Muggleborns are now his social betters? Guess who's got the future Minister's ear and is not afraid to bend it should a certain blond bigot put a toe out of line, and who is not in the least bit shy of dangling the threat of Azkaban over his head until he doesn't know if he should go shopping for new shoes just in case he never gets to wear them? And guess – whoops!" (Tonks nearly fell over a pumpkin vine) "– Guess who's going to be there to sign him in to St Mungos when it finally gets too much for him?" She chuckled throatily, and jerked both index thumbs towards her chest. "That'd be ME!" She spun back on course and with an even jauntier spring to her step as she strolled off whistling, her heavy robes swinging behind her.
Harry wondered that he'd never seen this ability to take protracted revenge in her before. He shrugged. She was related to Draco, so why was he surprised?
Lucius would be punished after all. Tonks would see to it.
Maybe he should warn Remus.
That decision suddenly flew right out of his head in the astonishment of remembering that he had heard that song Tonks had quoted from. It wasn't anything by the Wyrd Sisters and it was light years away from Celestina Warbeck's offerings. It wasn't anything from the Wizarding world. It was, in fact, the title track from the album Wish You Were Here.
Tonks was a Pink Floyd fan.
Harry gave a soft chuckle. In a day of surprises, being surprised like this wasn't so bad. Then he sobered.
How many people at Hogwarts would have spotted that song?
Wish you were here, Severus.
Then he thought of those who remained. There were so many – it dawned on him like the sun coming out on a showery day of blue skies and rainbows just how lucky he was. There could have been a bloodbath; he might still lose Simon, but, fingers crossed, he wouldn't lose anyone else. It put the whole near-catastrophe into perspective.
He went and found Hagrid and Luna. They had cornered a grimacing Bowtruckle. Its twiggy hands were tightly jammed over what must be its ears as they sang How Much Is That Kneazle in the Window? at it in a dreadful disharmony. The Bowtruckle jumped at the chance to scramble away into cracks into the bark when Harry coughed to get their attention.
"Either of you seen Sirius lately?"
ooOOoo