Prongs Rides Again

XV.

As he had been for much of the evening, Bill Weasley once again paced through the maze of shelves in the small, secluded laboratory. The room was quiet save for his footsteps. Bill had too much fondness for noise (having grown up at the Burrow) and too much aversion to silences (having experienced it in several nasty situations in the pyramids) to let this stand. "What time is it?" he asked, ignoring the watch ticking away on his wrist.

"You know quite vell vhat time it is," his companion answered, not unpleasantly.

Bill smirked, and examined his feet for a moment. "Let me make sure I completely understand what is happening here tonight." His companion, hidden, uttered a soft, impatient sigh. "You've got them zeroed in right now, correct?"

A grunt. "Yes. They are still at Hogvorts."

"Right." Bill began pacing again. As he spoke, he punctuated his discourse with gestures. "Around midnight, their location will change. We don't know where they're going, but it's likely they'll be staying in England. And you'll know what to look for because you're studying the distortion pattern of the namyasto on the ley map, right?" No reply. Bill raised an eyebrow. "Right?" Still no answer. "Viktor?"

"Yes, you are correct!" Viktor Krum said loudly, a touch of irritation in his voice.

Bill strode over to where Viktor was seated, at a small aluminum desk against a back wall. The Bulgarian was hunched over a sheet of black glass, inside which flickered and waved complicated whorls and grids of toxic lime green. Surrounding him was a collection of strange instruments, which hummed and clicked softly, echoing against the metal shelves. Privately, Bill was highly impressed with the way Viktor was operating the honing device. Tracking signals through ley lines was immensely complex, and involved years of study in Arithmancy, a subject which Bill had passed over in favor of Ancient Runes.

Bill pulled up his sleeve and examined his watch. Three minutes to midnight. Any time now...

When Bill had learned that the best wizard around for reading ley maps was none other than the greatly-hyped Quidditch player Viktor Krum, he had been highly skeptical. "Well if it's Seekers you're looking for, why not just get my brother Charlie?" he'd snorted. "He'd be a lot cheaper to import, as he's in Britain already for the holidays." But Dumbledore had been firm, and so Monday morning Bill had gone to collect him at the St. John's Wood Portkey Station. That first exchange had been amusing, in its way.

The 8:13 from Sophia was half-full of grumpy-faced diplomats. Bill had only recognized Viktor because he was the youngest of the lot. Krum had approached him, carrying only a shoulderbag, and asked shortly, "You are Villiam Veasley? I vos told to meet a tall redhead here."

Bill had eyed him critically: Krum was a lot less impressive than as depicted on the Bulgarian Quidditch banners. "Aye. And you'll be Krum, then?"

Viktor had scowled slightly, and nodded. Bill knew he had a perfect weapon to break the stony demeanor of his new partner. "Well!" he said, with uncharacteristic pep, "let's be off then, shall we?"

A strong love-hate relationship had developed between them over the past two days, however. Viktor became a little more informal when he learned that Bill's little brother was the same Ron who was best friends with Hermione Granger. Bill's opinion of Viktor increased dramatically when he watched him track the namyasto pendant from Lupin's cottage in Yorkshire to the exact corridor in Hogwarts where Sirius Black stood waiting to meet Harry.

The assortment of apparatuses began whirring and ticking frantically. Bill checked his watch again. Ten minutes past midnight. He walked back to Viktor's side and peered over his shoulder from behind. Viktor, who had previously been amazingly still and controlled, was now a frenzy of motion. With astonishing speed and control, he checked the map against each device, the meaning apparently clear to him.

Bill had seen Viktor pick up the other namyasto inside the space of two minutes. But twenty had soon passed, however, and he was beginning to grow worried. "What's wrong?"

Viktor's face was contorted with concentration. "I cannot find them," he answered redundantly. "There is something obstructing the signal."

A feeling of great unease erupted in the pit of Bill's stomach. "What would be strong enough to do that?"

Viktor shook his head. "I do not know. I haff checked Stonehenge, Azkaban, Loch Ness, and also Chartres -- just in case." He frowned even deeper. "I am looking through Ireland now. But--" He stopped himself, and stared at a sector of the map which seemed to have just exploded in the bright green lines.

"What is it?" Bill asked urgently. He watched as the lines distended and wobbled, as though the map had just experienced an earthquake.

"Vales," Viktor grunted, and said no more for what felt like a very long time. Bill resumed his pacing. He heard the Bulgarian exhale in frustration. "Neh rahzbeerahm," he muttered.

"What was that?"

Viktor looked up. "I don't understand. All this activity, over here --" he pointed to an area of the map which Bill had not the slightest idea how to read, "it has never happened before. Something has disturbed the lines. But even stranger: look -- this place, right here, it has been cleared. There is an empty spot." He squinted. "Vait a moment..." He began to grow excited. "Here! It is here!"

Bill swooped to his side. Sure enough, even he could see that a new pattern was coming through where the explosion had been. It resembled a cluster of linked circles swirling about a single point. "Now where is that in layman's terms?"

Viktor did not answer: he was manipulating the map somehow so that the image zoomed in on the new signal. He then wrote out a complicated series of numbers, letters, and runes. Finally, he pounded his right hand triumphantly on the edge of the table and stood up. "I haff it!" he declared. He pointed to the geographic map of the British Isles pinned up on the wall. "South-central Vales." He drew his wand.

"Wait, how are we going to get to them?" Bill asked anxiously, also drawing his wand. "How do we know where to Apparate to?"

Viktor shook his head. "Ve do not Apparate. It is too powerful a magical spot. There is too much disturbance in the air: it vould be harmful to all of us. Ve vill take my method."

"What--?"

But Viktor smiled slightly, and withdrew a ring from his breast pocket. "Not an Aperio talisman," he explained, reading Bill's expression correctly. "Dupka prez prostranstvo -- in Bulgarian it means ‘a hole in space.' It vos developed for times like this one, vhere it may be dangerous to travel normally." He held the ring loosely in his palm for an instant, as though contemplating it; he then tossed it lightly and caught it. "Come, let us go someplace vhere ve may bring them all back." They exited the laboratory, and closed it with a strong sealing spell.

They found an large, vacant room on the ground floor of the building. An abandoned fireplace sat on the adjacent wall, to the left. Bill lit it with a swift Incendio charm, and then tossed in a small cloth pouch which leaked a glittering powder. "Dumbledore," he whispered, half-watching Viktor prepare the opening. He performed a spell to make the ring hang in midair, and then began reading what sounded to Bill like coordinates off his scrap of paper. With every set, the ring grew larger and larger, until it was tall enough for the two men to step through.

"Bill? Is that you?"

Bill turned to see Dumbledore's head floating in the fire. "Yeah. Viktor's got them tracked down. It's somewhere in Wales. It took us a while, though," he added, worried. "Something weird happened with the ley lines. And we don't know if there are Death Eaters out there yet or not."

"Snape says they are all gathered at Lucius Malfoy's house."

"Where is Snape?"

"Here, with me. We watched everything through the Gallivesper. I should hurry if I were you two." Dumbledore frowned. "We saw an explosion of light, and then the image went out. I will come to your location, though it will take me a while to get out of Hogwarts. I will make sure I have Mediwizards and Aurors with me when you return."

Bill nodded. "Take care," he said, and stood up, facing Viktor. The Bulgarian raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Are ve ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

Viktor tapped the side of the hoop and muttered, "Otvaryam."

A gash appeared through the center of the ring. Raggedly, it grew, until only a few shreds of their current location flapped limply inside the rim. Bill nodded. "Impressive."

Viktor half-smiled, and stepped through.

Bill followed him into the new landscape -- a rolling meadow, with an ancient-looking forest fencing it in. The silence was absolute and profound: only the wind keened through the treetops.

Or was that the wind? It sounded more like the cries of a person -- periodic, and full of pain.

"We need to follow that," Bill murmured.

"No," Viktor answered quietly, "ve need to follow this." He held up another necklace -- another namyasto, with the same green amber pendant hanging from the chain. It glowed vaguely, with little flashes like sparks flickering inside. Viktor was pensive as he turned about to close the hole. "Though perhaps they vill both lead us to the same spot." He seemed to consider something for a moment, ring and necklace in hand, and then headed off to the right, into the trees.

"Hey!" Bill said as they began walking. "When were you going to tell me about that? What is it, anyway?"

"I did tell you about it," Viktor answered, not looking at his companion. "You vere not listening."

"When was this?"

"Vhen that striking lady customs official vos searching through my bags," he replied without missing a beat. "This is the twin to the namyasto I gave you earlier. It is constantly searching, constantly trying to come closer to its brother. It will draw us to the other."

They walked for at least half an hour, meeting nothing but the occasional sound of moaning on the breeze.

"I don't like this," Bill muttered.

Viktor frowned. "I don't either." He glanced down at the namyasto in his hand. The amber was beginning to glow quite strongly now. "Should be close now. Not more than twenty meters."

"What happens when it meets its other half?"

"It stops."

"Stops? What do you mean stops?"

Viktor shrugged. "It does not glow anymore. It stops pulling."

Bill reached over. "Here, give me that. I want to feel this pull. Feels like we're going nowhere."

"Neh!" Viktor cried, snatching his hand away. Immediately both of them froze, bracing themselves for some attack.

For several minutes, nothing happened. "What was that about?" Bill hissed.

"Vhat?" Viktor replied, equally peeved. "If you make me let go, it flies off. Ve lose it."

Bill huffed, and then grunted reluctantly, "C'mon, let's keep going." He took a step, and pitched forward. "Ow! Damn!" He took Viktor's hand and pulled himself up. "What tripped me?" he asked, lighting his wand and peering at his feet. He wrinkled his nose. "Eww... that's awful."

A beam of light from Viktor's wand crossed his. Viktor was speechless for a moment, and then said, "Vhat is that?"

Bill crouched down and examined the obstruction. "Looks like a man... but how could it be?" He moved the light up and down the body. The man was short, and half-bald; an expression of fear was stamped on his face. His stomach seemed to have broken the fall: where Bill had landed was large dent; a little ways off, a silver hand seemed to have crumbled off the arm. Bill shuddered, and involuntarily dusted his robes. "That's disgusting."

"It is though he took a Dessication Draught," Viktor stated wonderingly. "Yet he looks surprised." He shook his head in astonishment. "He is dry! Completely dry!"

"Like styrofoam," Bill agreed grimly. Viktor looked up, puzzled. Bill shook his head. "Muggle thing. My dad loves it." He looked off to the right, toward the edge of the meadow just visible through the trees. He furrowed his brow, listening. "Quiet. D'you hear that?"

Viktor paused, then nodded. "Someone is crying."

"But it's not the person we heard earlier."

"No. It is different."

They exchanged looks. "Shall we go?"

Viktor glanced down at the namyasto. "I think so. Ve are very close. I think it is them."

Bill glanced down at the husk of a body. "You stay here, mate," he muttered, and then walked out into the field.

Beneath the nearly full moon, the whole meadow was illuminated perfectly. Atop a small rise stood a huge black dog, who had obviously spotted the pair of them and was growling fiercely. As they neared, the dog did not attack: it seemed to be defending something. When they were close enough, Bill saw two men lying prostrate on the ground. Urgently, he turned to the dog. "Sirius?" The dog's growls grew quieter, but he still regarded the pair suspiciously, and he would not let them come closer. "Sirius, it's us. It's Bill Weasley. Come on, we've got to get you out of here."

The dog seemed to collapse, and the next instant, Sirius was sitting there, disheveled and frantic. "I thought you'd never come!" he cried. "I've been waiting with them for an hour at least! Remus stopped screaming a while back, and James hasn't moved since... since--" A strangled sob erupted from his throat. "You've got to get them somewhere! I can't tell if they're going to make it or not! You've got to--" He stopped. He was staring at Viktor. "You're Krum, aren't you," he stated, a wary edge to his voice.

Viktor nodded. He held up the pendant. "I found you," he replied flatly.

Sirius's demeanor dropped, and he sank down onto his knees. He looked up pleadingly at Bill. "You've got to help me, we've got to get them out of here. I've been so worried the Death Eaters would come and try and see what was going on--"

"Death Eaters?" repeated Bill, startled. "Sirius, what's happened to Voldemort?"

Sirius's jaw moved up and down, but no sound came out. He looked on the verge of more tears. A snap! behind the two made them both turn around. Viktor had calmly conjured two floating stretchers. He met their eyes. "Vill you let me move them?" Sirius looked at his two fallen friends, and then nodded numbly. Viktor pointed his wand. "Mobilicorporis," he muttered, and James and Remus drifted up onto their stretchers.

Bill leaned forward and offered Sirius a hand. "C'mon, you've got to stand up, we've got to get you someplace safe."

"Should he see the body?" Viktor asked, keeping the two stretchers afloat.

Sirius wiped his eyes, and took a breath. "Sure," he answered. "It might be someone important."

Bill eyed Viktor. "Will you stay here? Get the door ready?" The Bulgarian nodded. Sirius was obviously hesitant to leave his friends with a stranger (and a person he'd warned his godson against being with no less); but in the end, he saw in Viktor's face that he was trustworthy, and so turned and followed Bill into the woods.

"Here," Bill said, lighting his wand and shining it across the forest floor. He heard a sharp intake of breath as Sirius surveyed the body. He looked over: Sirius was standing stiff and rigid, a murderous look in his eyes. "Do you know him?"

"Yes," Sirius replied softly, his voice strange and hard. For a long time, he seemed to grapple with something. Finally, he sighed, and turned and began walking away.

"Hey, wait!" Bill called. "What d'you want to do with him?"

"Leave it," Sirius replied flatly, not looking. He took a few more steps, and then paused. "No, wait, Bill." He turned, and seemed to consider something. "Bring it. It's evidence."

Bill obliged, making the body and the silver arm hover. "Evidence for...?"

"Lots of things," Sirius's voice answered. "Tonight, for one." A grin suddenly spread across his face. "And my innocence." Without another word, he left, heading back towards the meadow.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the halls of Hogwarts castle. The morning was dawning bright and beautiful. Harry Potter took no notice of it. He flew, running so hard and so fast he barely knew he'd ever done anything else. His rumpled robes billowed out behind him; his sneakers smacked against the cold stone floor. He didn't care. All I need to do is find Dumbledore, he told himself, repeating the name like a mantra. Ever since he had woken ten minutes ago, alone save for a photograph, all he could think was that something had been taken from him, and that the aged headmaster would know how to retrieve it.

He threw himself at a flight of stairs, and barely realized he'd emerged into the room in front of the Great Hall. He was nearly blind and deaf with adrenaline, but he was aware enough to hear the swift footfalls of two men climbing the staircase behind him. He spun on his heel and yelled at the pair of retreating backs, "Professor!"

They turned. Dumbledore said nothing, but Sirius gaped. "Harry!" He rushed back down the steps and engulfed the boy in a ferocious hug. Harry felt as though the breath he'd lost running through the castle had suddenly smacked into him from behind, and he clung gasping to his godfather's shoulder.

"What happened? How is he? Oh please tell me he's alright, Sirius!" he begged.

Dumbledore appeared, a grim, set expression in his face. "I shall let you two talk things over," he said shortly. "I need to be off. There are still many things to be overseen." He turned his gaze to Harry, who could not tear himself away from the burning blue eyes. "Many strange things are happening. Yes, many strange things..." Swiftly, he laid a gnarled hand on the top of Harry's head, and then swept away out the front door.

Harry looked up into Sirius's face. "What's happened?" Sirius's face was drawn and sad. "Sirius!" he shouted desperately. "Tell me!"

The creak of a door and the miaow denoted the presence of Filch and Mrs. Norris. "Quick!" Sirius hissed, and he lead Harry up the staircase he'd be walking with Dumbledore.

Filch's voice echoed sibilantly behind them. "Where are they, now, my sweet?"

Harry and Sirius were far beyond hearing range before he could continue. Sirius ducked and darted down corridors Harry had never even noticed before; and after a dizzying race through the castle, they arrived at the door to Dumbledore's office. "Billiwigs," Sirius rasped, and they were both through the door as soon as the gargoyle had jumped aside.

The office was empty: not even Fawkes was present. Sirius collapsed in an armchair, and tried to regain his breath. Harry remained standing, staring at Sirius. "Sirius," he repeated, a tremor now evident in his voice. "What's happened? Please tell me."

Sirius raised his head, and looked right into Harry's eyes. He took a deep, ragged breath. "I don't know if they're going to make it, Harry."

"They?" the boy repeated, horrified. "You mean -- Professor Lupin might--" He could not continue. He stood stock still inside the doorway, his numb gaze locked on Sirius's face. He took in the ashen pallor of his godfather, and the aura of exhaustion he exuded. He gulped, and spoke again, in a much quieter voice. "Tell me what happened."

Sirius licked dry lips. "Sit down." Slowly, Harry crept forward and obeyed, not breaking eye contact. "Remus and your dad are at St. Mungo's," he stated. Harry stiffened, but did not interrupt. "They've got the best experts working on them as we speak. Best doctors in Britain. We may not lose them yet." He found he could not keep on talking of this. He bowed his head briefly, and then began relating the events of that evening. Harry did not speak during the whole account. By the time Sirius was finished, the sun was fully risen, and light streamed in through the windows. It looked deeply out of place on the solemn features of the two.

"There's one thing I don't understand," Harry said finally, in an obvious attempt to keep from his thought his father and Professor Lupin. He looked Sirius full in the face, the puzzlement shining through. "Why didn't the Death Eaters come?"

* * *

Lucius drew his wife close and whispered through the side of his mouth, "Is Snape coming?"

Narcissa did not meet his eyes. "No. He sent an owl. He says Dumbledore is too suspicious. He's staying at Hogwarts."

He released her arm. "Ah." Without a second glance, he drifted away, liquor in hand. With half-hooded eyes he surveyed the party. The Death Eaters were, with the exception of Snape and those still in Azkaban, collectively wandering through the halls of his manor, their Gallivespers at the ready in several different rooms. "Like private showings," he sneered to himself. He moved toward his own Gallivesper, hovering patiently in the center of the hall. He sipped his brandy lightly, thinking, his eyes fixed on the center of the large ring chalked on the floor. Half a dozen grandfather clocks began chiming midnight. An excited shout rose up from Macnair, already quite drunk a few chambers over.

Lucius had his Gallivesper to himself. He was content to be without the company of Crabbe and Goyle, or his wife. Indeed, Narcissa had always hated the conclaves of Death Eaters in the past: now, as before, she had probably slunk away upstairs to a parlor. His only regret was that Draco couldn't be present. But no matter -- he could play the event for him when he came home for Christmas.

He waited patiently through the hushed and anxious minutes before an image appeared on the floor. A light flashed from overhead, and Lucius blinked as his vision came into focus. Unlike at Dover, the scale of the site was reduced: Voldemort appeared in the center, about two feet high. On the periphery of the circle, nearest to his feet, Lucius could see three other people. They appeared to be too shocked to act. Voldemort lifted his head and smiled, a cruelly amused expression on his face. He spoke with the air of one particularly pleased with himself. "Good evening, my faithful Death Eaters."

Lucius snorted softly into his glass. "Well, a fine evening to you as well, my lord," he drawled beneath his breath.

Oblivious, the Dark Lord continued. "This seems to have carried off better than I had hoped. Black and Lupin are here as well -- the convict and the werewolf. I do hope you appreciate the irony, Severus." Lucius heard laughter from the other rooms. Above it, Voldemort's voice carried mockingly. "Really, Potter, did you think your parents' washed-up friends could help you?"

Well, this should be a good show indeed, he thought coolly.

"No matter," Voldemort said dismissively: "perhaps I shall give Wormtail the honor of killing them." He nodded in the direction of the wizard by Lucius's left foot. "Oh yes, he is lurking out there somewhere. He has been watching you ever since you arrived." Lucius scanned the remainder of the circle. Indeed, on the far right edge, he spotted Pettigrew skulking about between Potter and the werewolf. The sound of the Cruciatus Curse being cast drew his attention back to Voldemort. Loud cheers erupted from the next room over. Lucius watched, a cold, satisfied smile upon his lips, as the werewolf tried to curse Voldemort back. The triumphant yells swelled again as an invisible hand lifted Lupin off his feet and held him dangling in midair.

Up until now, the middle figure -- Potter -- had been useless. Yet now he acted, conjuring a Patronus, which charged Voldemort down, to no effect. "Oh Harry, why waste your time?" Lucius chuckled. It certainly caught Voldemort's attention, though: Black stopped writhing, and Lupin fell heavily to the earth. The Dark Lord was staring at Potter curiously. Lucius frowned, and bent down to peer closer at the figure before him. This was not Harry, he thought. He had met the boy three years before: he can't have grown and changed so much as to have gray hair...

Voldemort echoed his and everyone else's thoughts. "You...You are not him..."

The man's wand hand fell to his side, and to everyone's utter shock, he began bandying words with the Dark Lord. The exchange was muffled on the speaker's side, but Voldemort's furious replies were clear enough. Lucius watched as the tip of Voldemort's wand began to smolder. He winced inside. Here it comes...

But he was interrupted. "Expelliarmus!" his opponent cried.

And then Lucius Malfoy's jaw dropped -- he could hardly believe what he was witnessing. The other man began to glow, like a milky white haze was seeping from him. Voldemort began to flicker in and out of transparency. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Wormtail fleeing into the forest. Suddenly, a shining silver shape burst out from the right. The image warped, and then the Gallivesper fell, smashing to bits on the hardwood floor. It had only been a matter of half a minute or so. Lucius was so shocked he didn't even notice the searing pain in his left arm until Nott and Avery came crashing in, panicked.

"Lucius! What's going on? What should we do?"

Ignoring them, he shoved the sleeve of his robe up to the elbow and stared. The Dark Mark was pulsating beneath his skin, swimming with poisonous shades of black and green. Its edges became crisper, more defined -- as though it was coming into focus. Dazed, all Lucius could think of as he watched was the Taiga Sprite, its swollen branches readying themselves for an explosion.

He heard the shrieks of the others but felt nothing, as the Mark sizzled, reaching the surface of his skin. Then, as a wisp of smoke, it broke free of his flesh and floated upward. He gaped at it, astounded, as it flared bright red for an instant, and then slowly drifted away into vapor.

The hall became chaos. The Death Eaters scrambled and pushed each other furiously, all trying to escape. Lucius paid them no heed: he became aware that he had not felt so free in all the twenty years he'd borne the Mark. And above the shouts and cries, slowly he began to laugh.

XVI.

Hazel Watkins had one more patient to check on before her shift was up. She looked down at her list. It was somebody new -- the lad they'd brought in from Critical Care yesterday afternoon. She shook her head slightly to herself. Dr. Carolan had been very odd about her seeing him last night. As with any other patient, she'd opened his door as quietly as she could and left it slightly ajar behind her, so she might not disturb them with a great deal of creaking and clicking. The man was lying comatose beneath his sheets, completely unaware of his surroundings. Hazel looked down at her clipboard: Remus Lupin, the chart read. Preexisting conditions: allergy to peanuts, lycanthropy (note: refrain from the use of silver surgical and other tools). She'd recoiled a bit at that, but then again, she'd treated worse. As she studied his face -- although lax and wan, it was mild and pleasant -- she decided he was definitely better than that old hag Gemma Hotchkiss, who was continually sprouting noisy parasitic growths on her back.

She leaned forward to take his pulse. He shivered beneath the touch of her fingers, but did not move beyond that. Hazel worked quietly and quickly, and after recording all his vitals, she patted him softly on the hand. "Keep fast, my dear, don't give up," she murmured, and with that, she left.

Dr. Carolan was just passing by as she came out of the room. He stared at her for a moment as she was shutting the door, and then he grabbed her arm and gasped, "Nurse Watkins! Just what business do you think you had in there tonight?!"

Hazel was a little taken aback. "Why, just seeing to my patients, Doctor," she answered.

The doctor's face was red and livid. "Just seeing to your patients? Watkins, are you aware of what that man is?"

"Doctor, you know the Hospital's Anti-Discrimination Statement clearly says--"

"No no, you fool, I'm not talking about that!" He pointed wildly at a calendar tacked beneath a clock on the opposite wall. "It's the full moon tonight, and it's after sundown! He's liable to become a dangerous, bloodthirsty monster any minute now!" He frowned at her. "Are you hurt? Did he get you?" He began examining the arm he still clutched.

Hazel wretched it away indignantly. "No, he did not. He's lying in there quiet as you please, just like any other man who's just come out of Critical."

Dr. Carolan sighed, and drew his wand. "You should count yourself lucky you got out in time," he admonished, as he recast the Sealing Spell about the door.

With a quick tap of her own wand, she now broke the seal and cautiously swung the door open. She had been expected nothing short of carnage, from what she'd heard of other werewolves -- the bed twisted and torn, everything available object smashed and shattered, the man himself huddled in a bloody heap in the corner.

But Remus Lupin's room was just as neat and spotless as she'd left it the previous evening. She was surprised at first, but then a feeling of smug pride began to glow. Carolan was wrong last night, she thought triumphantly. I wasn't in any danger at all! She went about her work swiftly and smoothly, and when she left the room, she once again ran into Terence Carolan, hurrying off to some doctors' meeting or other.

"Don't know you were on about last night," she commented as she passed him by. "I didn't even have to so much as make his bed again this morning."

A hand grabbed her arm again, and with a small squeak, she spun around. Carolan's face was shocked, his jaw dangling. "What?"

"Well, sir, he looks like he hardly moved all night, much less wreaked havoc on the room as a ‘dangerous, bloodthirsty monster.'"

Carolan stared at her for a minute more, and then pushed past her into the patient's room.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore clasped his hands together and solemnly surveyed Ron, Harry, and Hermione. The three Gryffindors stared back at him with a tentative eagerness, as though they would rather decide whether or not to hear his news after he'd told them.

"I am aware, Harry, that tomorrow you are leaving to stay with Sirius for Christmas," he began heavily. "I thought it fitting that you and he should be on a level understanding regarding the events of this past Halloween. I do not think he should have to explain it you; and while he and I have kept no facts from each other, I have hazarded a few guesses that I have not shared with him yet."

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances, but Harry's eyes remained fixed in front of him.

"First, I should say that the condition of your father has remained stable. You know he woke up last week -- though alas, he is still too weak to speak. The doctors at St. Mungo's are optimistic still. That, I hope, gives you some comfort."

Harry nodded. "Sirius and I are going to go see him and Professor Lupin on Tuesday," he said quietly.

"Ah. Professor Lupin." Dumbledore leaned back against his chair. "Remus Lupin remains an enigma, I must say. We are less sure about him. He is presenting quite a puzzle to the magical medical community. On the full moon, he shakes and shudders, and sometimes cries out, but he does not change.

"While I believe that some organic essence was sent out from Remus to destroy Voldemort, no one can say whether it was the human element of him or the wolf." A deep sadness shone from Dumbledore's eyes. "If indeed we have lost the person and the werewolf remains trapped in his body, some within the Ministry are moving to have him killed."

"No!" Ron cried. "They -- they can't do that! They can't just kill him, like some... like some stray that's got to be put down!" Hermione let out a choked sob. Harry winced, but remained stonily neutral.

"Why don't you tell us about Wormtail?" he asked, obviously unwilling to remain on the subject.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, the reason your godfather's name has been cleared.

"Pettigrew and Voldemort were linked through shared blood, blood which Peter willingly gave in June. The evidence seems to indicate that when Voldemort vanished, the ingredient he shared with Peter vanished too."

Ron gulped. "You mean, he just... dried up?"

"It's like all the blood inside him just disappeared," Hermione whispered.

Dumbledore leaned forward again and rested his elbows on the desk. "That does appear to be the case."

"But... Voldemort had some of my blood in him too," Harry said, perplexed. "Why didn't the same thing happen to me?"

"Aw Harry. Don't even talk about it," Ron muttered.

"Certainly an intriguing question, Harry. But as Remus explained to me earlier this summer, the element of sacrifice ran strong in that spell. Peter gave himself willingly, whereas yours was forcibly taken. Perhaps it was his willingness that destroyed him. Or perhaps you were too far away." He shrugged. "I don't suppose we'll ever fully know. But we must appreciate the fact that the threat of Voldemort is now removed forever, and that Sirius Black is a free man again."

No one said anything for a while. Harry sat staring at his hands. He was glad to be going to stay with Sirius -- indeed, how many times had he hoped for such a thing over the past few years? -- but still... It seemed so unfair that he had finally come around to accepting that he had a father, only to have him stolen away into the depths of St. Mungo's. He keenly sympathized with Neville, now that he too had gone into the hospital to visit a dormant parent.

The probable loss of Professor Lupin was hitting him just as hard. While he grieved for his father and wished with all his might that he might regain him, he had only been with him that one evening, and that night had become blurred beneath veils of intense emotion. Professor Lupin had been his friend and mentor for a whole year: he had helped him find his Patronus, had saved him from Snape's wrath over the Marauder's Map, had continued to write him even after he had left the Hogwarts staff. The thought of him being murdered like some common animal was more than he could stomach.

Slowly, he became aware of the silence in Professor Dumbledore's office. He lifted his head and looked up. Ron and Hermione were awkwardly staring off into space, but Dumbledore was watching him intently. I need to say something, he thought numbly. I need to give them an answer.

He took a breath and tried to speak. Finally, he managed, "Thank you for telling us, Professor." He paused, lost in thought for a moment, and then continued. "I... I think things will work out the way they're meant to. I hope that means I can have my dad back again, and Professor Lupin, but if not..." But if not what? He felt his throat closing over. "If not... I don't know what I'll do."

* * *

He sat up slightly, and stroked her chin. Their eyes met. "Why don't you come with me?" he implored softly. She gave him no answer. She only smiled, sadly. James felt his heart constrict. "Why don't I come with you?" he pleaded.

"Sir? Sir, is that you?"

James opened his eyes. A nurse was standing at the foot of his bed, wide-eyed, clutching the edges of a tray of food. "What time is it?" he asked -- it was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

The nurse stammered, and finally was able to tell him. He pulled himself upright, suddenly not feeling weak anymore at all. He looked at the nurse again. "What is it?"

The nurse bit her lower lip, as if trying to decide how to word her reply. "Well, sir, it's just -- you've been asleep nearly three months, and your son and your friend were in here not two hours ago, and I was in here straightening up, and then I heard something." She looked down at her feet, a bit guiltily. "And -- well sir, it was you. You was humming."