They Shook Hands: Year Four (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Four

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Two - The Cleaning of Grimmauld Place

At breakfast the next morning, Harry was treated to Sirius' self-professed mediocre cooking. The scrambled eggs were a bit runny and the toast needed to be scraped, but Harry wolfed down every bite. He was even allowed to take a second helping, something he could never have done at Privet Drive.

The cleaning of the drawing room continued. A pair of dusty, glass-fronted cabinets was their next target. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, animal claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Harry could not read, and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Harry was quite sure was blood.

Many of the objects seemed very reluctant to leave their dusty shelves. Sirius sustained a bad bite from a silver snuffbox; within seconds his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove.

"It's okay," he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal. "Must be Wartcap powder in there."

He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets.

There were a number of ancient seals, and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius's grandfather for services to the Ministry.

"It means he gave them a load of gold," said Sirius contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack.

They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry's arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin. Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy, until Remus, who had taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, had the sense to slam the lid shut.

Very intriguing was a heavy, ornate gold locket that none of them could open. It was engraved with a serpentine 'S', and Harry thought it quite fine. He slipped it into his pocket for later.

Sirius showed no interest in keeping a large golden ring bearing the Black crest. Harry spent fifteen minutes arguing that instead of rejecting the family legacy, he should work to redeem it. Just when Harry thought he was going to turn blue in the face, Sirius wordlessly slipped the ring onto his finger.

They paused for lunch and trumped down to the kitchen. In their good cheer, however, they must have trodden too heavily on the stairs. As they crossed in front of Mother Black's hidden portrait, she shouted out, "Who trespasses? Unwelcome visitors to the noble and most ancient house of Black, beware! You are not safe here! Leave while you still can!"

The curtains flew back on their own to reveal a portrait of an old woman in a black cap. She had striking blue eyes, though cloudy with age. Her white hair flew in all directions. Her wrinkled skin was emphasized by the severe scowl she wore on her face.

"Yoooou!" she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of them. "Blood traitor! Abomination! Shame of my flesh!"

"Hello, Mother," Sirius said conversationally. "I've brought my little friend over to play."

Mother Black caught sight of Remus. "What is your family name, young man?"

"I am Remus Lupin."

"I know it not!"

"He's a werewolf, Mother."

"Filth!" she shrieked. "Scum! By-product of dirt and vileness! Disease-ridden freak! Begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers?"

"I was invited," Remus replied casually. "By the last remaining Black."

"Ooooohhh!" she moaned. "Lies! Though my line is dead to me, there are others who still make me proud!"

"Your precious Bellatrix is secure in Azkaban, Mother," Sirius interrupted. "Your much vaunted Lord Voldemort is a fading memory."

"The Dark Lord will crush those who dare speak his name!"

"Speaking of the dead," Sirius said brightly, "I'd like to introduce you to the Boy Who Lived."

Mother Black gaped at him.

"Mother, meet Harry Potter."

"Blood traitor!" Mother Black's shriek made Harry jump, even though he'd been expecting it. One particular frequency of her denunciation must have jangled in his ear just right.

"Hello, Missus Black," Harry said coolly. While he knew she hadn't been a Death Eater, she'd thought Voldemort pretty swell. Harry didn't like her.

"Leave the house of my fathers! Take the vermin with you! Begone from my sight!"

"Sorry, Mother," Sirius said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm afraid it's you who'll be leaving."

"Nothing can break the Permanent Sticking Charm!" she howled. She appeared to be having a seizure. Her eyes rolled around sloppily and drool started dripping from the corners of her mouth.

Sirius turned to Remus. "Well?"

Remus drew his wand and tapped against the edge of the picture frame. He frowned slightly and traced a few lines with the tip of his wand. The wood began glowing orange, and Remus frowned some more.

"Sirius, take a look at this," Remus said as he pointed his finger. He muttered a spell and yellow lines appeared amidst the orange.

"I see," Sirius said, nodding his head slowly. "No, not at all. Is that the Sticking Charm?"

"The orange is. The yellow is the twist to make it Permanent. If we can counter that part of it, the Sticking Charm itself can be removed in the normal fashion."

"Simplicity."

"Not precisely. But at least we have a place to start."

With that, Remus and Sirius set to work, waving their wands. The spells they used were mostly non-verbal, and the ones they did speak, Harry didn't recognize. He couldn't hear much over the din Mother Black made as the two men worked.

She made so much noise that the other portraits awoke and began to yell too, so that Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears.

Sirius glanced over at Harry. "You can do something about them, if you like."

Harry could use magic! He drew his wand immediately but hesitated, not knowing which spell to cast.

"I recommend a Stunning Charm," Remus advised.

"Which I don't know," Harry pointed out. "That's fifth-year magic."

"And when did they start teaching the Patronus Charm in third year?"

Remus was right. Harry was a wizard with some extraordinary abilities. He'd done as well as many adult wizards in casting magic beyond the Ordinary Wizarding Level. What else could he do?

"What's the incantation?"

"Stupefy! The wand motion is thus."

"Stupefy."

Remus turned back to the portrait of Mother Black as Harry took aim at a man whose frame identified him as Jean-Phillipe Black.

"Stupefy!"

A feeble shower of red sparks sputtered out of the end of his wand in response. Well, at least that was something. He tried again.

"Stupefy!"

Again, Harry shot some sparks, but the portraits kept right on screaming. Spurred on by his failure, Harry kept right on trying. After several more unsuccessful tries, he lowered his wand in exasperation.

"I can't do this with all this racket!" he shouted at Mother Black, who was leading the noise.

"Care for a Deafening Charm?" Sirius offered.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed gratefully.

"Nonauditorius!"

The shouting stopped instantly. All was perfect, peaceful silence. He saw Sirius looking at him with an inquisitive expression and nodded his head affirmatively. He turned back to the portraits and raised his wand. He practised the wand movement a few times and then spoke the word.

The sparks were gone. Now the tip of his wand glowed red briefly before fading away. He tried again. Time lost all sense of meaning. Without the distraction of sound, Harry sank into the flow of his magic. He could feel himself getting abler with the spell. He'd never paid much attention to the particulars of how his magic felt during the casting. Each time it came a little closer to going off properly, and soon a jet of red light with a white core lanced out from his wand at the man who rocked back a bit and then started shouting and shaking his finger at Harry.

It was nearly two hours later when Sirius tapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry, who had exhausted himself trying to silence the portraits, raised his tired head. Sirius said something, and then Harry could hear again. There was barely anything to hear.

"Well done, Harry," Sirius said proudly. "You've done it."

"But they're all still awake," Harry protested weakly. "I didn't Stun them."

"They stopped shouting. Good enough for me."

"Why'd they stop shouting?"

"Maybe they're afraid of you."

Harry laughed. "Is it tea time yet?"

"Past."

Harry's stomach agreed, rumbling loudly.

"How's your mother?"

"Compared to who?"

"Compared to when we started."

"As you can see, she's still on the wall. We've made a bit of progress with understanding the lines of the spell."

"I saw lines two hours ago," Harry said unhelpfully.

Sirius shrugged. "I would have been amazed if we figured it out that quickly. They're really serious about that word permanent."

"All right, Remus?" Harry asked.

"Delightful," Remus said sourly. "You've been deaf; I've had to listen to the most vile ranting. I don't think she stopped to take a breath once."

"Strictly speaking, she doesn't need to breathe," Sirius pointed out.

"Which is unfortunate, because right now I'd happily drown her."

After a very late lunch, during which Harry heard more stories of the Marauders' adventures, they returned to the drawing room.

"It's still a mess in here," Sirius declared loudly as they returned to the first floor.

"Disparage not the house of your birth, ungrateful apostate!"

"Shut up, Mother!" Sirius shouted back.

The fancy roll top writing desk in corner of the drawing room had been rattling and shaking. Now Sirius and Remus drew their wands to confront it. Sirius knelt down and peeked through the keyhole of the lock on the lower cabinet door.

"Yeah, I think this is a Boggart, Moony. Have a look."

"Nothing at all. Good. Let's open it up, then."

Sirius stepped back and cast an Unlocking Charm. With a flick of his wand, the cabinet door opened. With a wan expression, Harry stepped out of the cabinet!

It looked exactly like Harry. It was even wearing his clothes. The only difference was that the lightning bolt scar was on the wrong side of his head. The sadness that was plain on his face would break even the hardest heart.

"Where were you, Sirius?" Boggart-Harry asked in a small voice. "I needed you. Why weren't you there? Why didn't you come for me?"

Sirius looked like he'd been pole-axed. His eyes were wide with horror, and his wand arm fell to his side. His mouth was slightly agape with a silent denial still lingering.

"I was counting on you, Sirius," Boggart-Harry continued relentlessly. "You let me down. I shouldn't have depended on you. My father shouldn't have trusted you. You're no good, Sirius."

Harry watched himself say unthinkable words to his godfather in stupefied horror. Boggart-Harry was reaching out for Sirius with grasping hands. Shocked to action, he drew his wand and stepped in front of the advancing Boggart.

With an ear-ringing crack, a soul-sucking Dementor appeared! The room instantly began to get cold. Harry's breath exhaled as misty clouds. He heard a woman begin to scream and knew it to be his mother in her final moments of life. Tatty black robes concealed scabby, diseased, decaying hands that reached for him.

Harry dug into his mind and pulled out the happiness he'd felt when Sirius had welcomed him home. The strength of the commitment Sirius had made to him and to his family filled Harry with awe and humility. Because of Sirius, Harry had a home. That was the happiest thing ever to happen to him.

"Expecto patronum!" Harry screamed.

The silver mist that had always characterized his Patronus before did not emerge. Instead, out of the end of his wand burst a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. He screwed up his eyes, trying to see what it was. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon, and it stood there snorting and pawing at the ground in the mere feet that separated Harry and the Dementor.

The creature of darkness hissed in frustration, but the Patronus would not let it pass. Then the stag lowered its head and pushed at the Dementor with its magnificent horns. Slowly, the evil thing retreated back into the cabinet of the desk and slammed the door.

The stag turned to stared at Harry with its large, silver eyes. Slowly, it bowed its antlered head. It looked for long moments at Sirius and Remus.

"Prongs," Sirius whispered, reaching out a trembling hand toward the creature. It shook itself slightly, then vanished into wisps of silver smoke.

Harry drew gasping breaths. Remus and Sirius were staring at him in frank amazement. In Remus' eyes, Harry saw pride in his former student, pride in his friend's son.

"Well done, Harry! A corporeal Patronus at age thirteen!"

"Almost fourteen."

"It's almost unheard of," Remus declared. "You have amazing talent, Harry."

"The Sorting Hat told me I had power."

"It was right. And it would know."

Sirius' eyes were haunted. The unexpected presence of the Dementor had probably triggered a flashback to Azkaban. Harry felt guilty about that. They'd just started to help Sirius mend from that awful hell, and now they were back to square one. And what did the Boggart turning into Harry mean?

"Sirius?" Harry reached over and tugged on his godfather's sleeve. "Hey? Are you okay?"

"No," Sirius replied in a hollow voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I wasn't ready for that."

"Dementors are awful, I know. I'm so sorry-"

"Not them," Sirius interrupted dismissively. "I can handle Dementors. But I was almost done in by a simple Boggart."

"There's nothing simple about a Boggart, Padfoot," Remus chimed in.

"Well, there you have it," Sirius said bitterly. "My biggest fear is letting you down, Harry."

Harry swallowed the lump that developed in his throat. He spread his arms wide and hugged his godfather for the first time. He squeezed hard around the middle, trying to convey his gratitude and respect and love with physical strength.

Though Sirius was startled, he immediately returned the hug, crushing Harry with limbs that were still very skinny.

"I will be there," Sirius whispered as a single tear traced down his cheek. "If I'm not there, it's because I died trying to get to you."

"I know," Harry said, his words muffled against Sirius' chest.

After a few minutes of raw emotion, the two men composed themselves. Remus had, politely, taken a sudden interest in the family tree. He walked back over as Harry was clearing his throat and Sirius was loudly complaining of dust in his eye.

All in all, the drawing room took them the better part of three days to make presentable. From the drawing room, they progressed to the two bedrooms on the same landing. The beds were hidden under the accumulated clutter of who knew how many years. The bath was more scary, because what looked like animated inkblots fiercely defended their homes in the tub, sink, and basins. Working late into the night, the three men were able to declare the bedrooms finished, but they did not complete the first floor by the time of the full moon.

Thursday night, Moony descended to the kitchens with Padfoot, and they locked themselves in one of the stone store rooms that they'd cleaned out.

"The sounds will be awful, Harry," Sirius cautioned. "Without the Wolfsbane Potion, Moony gets a bit temperamental."

"Is it really all that bad?" Harry asked.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Let's put it this way: I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came to Hogwarts. The Shrieking Shack and the tunnel that leads to it were built for my use. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour. Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it."

"And that's without the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Correct."

"But why don't you have it?"

Remus shrugged carelessly. "I'm not working with Snape any more. He was only providing the potion at Dumbledore's insistence. There are few Potions Masters who can brew the thing properly, and none of them give it away for free. So, I tried not to get too used to taking it while I was teaching."

Harry and Sirius both offered to buy the potion for him, but Remus would have none of it. "I lived most of my life without it, Padfoot. I'm a tough old wolf."

"But it can help!"

"What helps me is you," Remus said bluntly. "You and Wormtail and Prongs helped me."

"Then I'll help you now," Sirius declared. "And when Harry masters his form, I'm sure he'll be champing at the bit to join us."

How did Sirius know Harry so well?

Remus smiled. "I might have guessed you'd be corrupting him."

"He could use with a little positive corruption."

Had he suddenly become invisible?

"I don't think you'll be able to hear us up on the third floor, but maybe I should put up some Silencing Charms," Sirius said speculatively.

"If you want to," Harry said with a shrug. "I'm just going to be doing homework."

"Summer just started, Harry!" Sirius sounded almost offended.

"And if I get my work done, I'll be able to enjoy it without guilt."

"Moony, do you know who he reminds me of?"

"Certainly not Prongs."

"Correct."

"Lily?"

"In a nutshell. That's exactly what she would say on Friday nights."

Everyone always talked about his dad, but Harry had seldom heard any stories of his mum. He felt very warm inside as his godfather compared him to his mother. He wanted to ask about her, but now was not the time.

"What else am I going to do by myself?" he asked instead. "I'm not about to go wandering around this place."

"A very smart idea," Sirius agreed. "I guess you'll have to do it, then," he said mournfully.

"I'll try not to enjoy it," Harry offered.

Sirius shuddered. "Enjoying homework. It's twisted."

Harry managed to get quite a bit of work done that night, actually. He knocked off his reading for History of Magic and scribbled about five feet on the Statute of Secrecy. Hopefully he would get extra credit for bringing up the relevance of the Magical Child Protection Act. If Muggleborn children didn't grow up in the Muggle world, they couldn't very well pose a risk to the statute. One task complete, he began his reading for Transfiguration and fell asleep with the book on his chest.

The next morning, Harry made breakfast without asking. Sirius and Remus both looked like they'd been brawling. The men lingered over teacups, not saying much. Remus in particular looked very haggard, even worse than the other times Harry had seen him after a full moon. He could attribute the change only to the lack of Wolfsbane Potion.

"So what are we doing today?" he asked to break the silence.

"Taking it easy," Sirius answered at once. "We can try a pass at the ballroom, I think, but after last night, I really don't want to exert myself."

"We could just skiv off," Harry suggested. Both men looked like they could use the rest.

"Maybe for a bit."

"Tell me a story," Harry requested. Now was the time to follow up his impulse from last night. "I want to hear about my mum."

Sirius and Remus looked at each other. Slow grins spread over their faces. Sirius sighed dramatically. "Oh, where to begin? Lily Evans was the smartest witch we knew. She was at the top of nearly all her classes. She was absolutely passionate about magic. She had a feel for it that made all the purebloods rather, shall we say, green with envy."

"Quite remarkable for a Muggleborn witch," Remus interjected. "But she was never boastful about her skill. She had a mind like a steel trap. During the war, she was one of our best planners."

"Handy with a wand, too," Sirius added. "She out-duelled many a Death Eater. Taught James a thing or two, as well, I recall."

"That she did. Lily was definitely worth her stuffing. None of us were surprised when she was named a prefect and Head Girl."

"She had pluck. You always knew where you stood with her, because she didn't hesitate to tell you so. She certainly told James off more times than I can conveniently count. And when things changed, she didn't pause to reconsider either."

"When did they start going together?" Harry asked.

"Seventh year. Then we finished school, and they got married that winter. I was best man at the wedding, you know. You came along about three years later. She was a royal bitch for nine months," Sirius declared. "She threw me through the window one time, and all I did was lick her."

"She might have been more receptive if you'd been a dog at the time, Padfoot."

"I wasn't about to let her wipe that delicious chocolate ice cream off on an unworthy napkin. There wasn't time to transform."

"You licked her?" Harry asked incredulously.

Sirius looked completely unapologetic as he flashed a cocky grin back at Harry. "It seemed like a funny idea at the time. When I was being hexed through the window, not so much."

Harry snickered. Way to go, Mum, he thought.

The ballroom was the cleanest room they'd seen so far, but that wasn't saying much. There were no boxes of junk to sort through, but dust covered every surface at least an inch thick. The curtains here were also infested with Doxys. Thankfully, Sirius had indeed laid in a large supply of Doxycide.

As they worked, Harry thought about what he'd learned about his mum. It didn't jive at all with what he'd learned about Muggleborns to date. They were supposed to be snotty and prissy about being special. Apparently Lily Evans had been humble about her gift. They were supposed to be inferior to pureblood wizards. Lily Evans had consistently made top marks. Harry could only conclude that either his mother was a rare exception or his friends tended to exaggerate.

They managed to finish off the ballroom and the first floor bath on Saturday. The three men felt a vast sense of accomplishment as they declared the first floor clean. They spent the remainder of that day fruitlessly attempting to remove Mother Black from the wall.

Unable to help in that endeavour, Harry sent his eagle owl, Regal, off to deliver letters to his friends. Sirius had said that his friends were welcome at the house any time, and Harry hadn't forgotten. With permission, he'd invited the whole gang over for the next morning.

Draco was the first to arrive, and he came through the Floo promptly at eight.

"Harry!" The two boys shook hands manfully. "You're looking well, I see. Not spending the holiday with Muggles agrees with you."

"And I agree with it," Harry replied with a nod of his head.

"This place doesn't look so bad," Draco noted, taking in the now clean drawing room. "It's quite nice, actually. Those cabinets are a bit empty, though."

"We put a lot of effort in here. Don't worry, we left lots for you to help with."

"Good thing I brought back-up, then."

"What do you mean?"

Draco snapped his fingers imperiously. With a bang, two house elves appeared. One was wearing an old pillowcase, while the other wore a ratty length of cloth wrapped around like a toga.

"Nibby and Dobby are here to help as well. Isn't that right, Nibby?"

The elf nodded rapidly. "Oh yes, Master Draco, Nibby is here to help. Nibby will clean and tidy and polish and work very hard."

"Well, that ought to make things easier. Sirius says old Kreacher hasn't cleaned anything in ages."

Draco raised an eyebrow incredulously. "An elf that doesn't clean?"

"Oh, shameful, shameful it is!" Nibby wailed. "How can he be derelict in his duty?"

"I don't know. Actually, I've never even seen him."

"Maybe there isn't any Kreacher," Draco suggested. "What if he's just saying? I don't know of any house elf that can stand to see a messy room."

"Sirius wouldn't make up a story about having a house elf," Harry said hotly.

"Easy, mate," Draco said hastily, waving a hand cautiously in the air. "I mean, maybe the elf up and died and Sirius just doesn't know."

"Well, we'll find him when we clean, I guess," Harry reasoned. "Good show on thinking to bring those two. They'll help a lot."

Pansy arrived a second later, and she also brought two elves, Ashwe and Mehwe. Both wore matching dish towels with a slit for the head fastened with a bit of twine. They eyed Dobby and Nibby carefully. Nibby stared right back, but Dobby looked away.

"Only two, Draco?" Pansy asked lightly. "Couldn't spare any more?"

"They're busy," Draco replied loftily. "Big manor to clean, you know. Not like you'd understand."

"It has to be big to contain that swollen head of yours," she replied just as snottily. "You have to use magic just to fit it through doors."

"I can't help it if my brain takes up a lot of room," he shot back.

"Fat head."

"My head is not fat!" Draco half-shouted.

Pansy smiled sweetly at Draco. She had won the little exchange, so she could afford to be gracious. She leaned in and kissed her boyfriend with a loud smacking sound. "My fat head," she said with a touch of satisfaction as she ruffled his hair.

Before Draco could wax indignant about either having his hair mussed or being called the name the gang customarily reserved for either Goyle or Crabbe, the fireplace roared to life as Blaise arrived.

"Harry!" she squealed, and hugged him tightly.

"Urk!" he grunted, hugging her back and trying not to make it seem like he was eager to stop. "Hi, Blaise."

"Ease up, Blaise. You're going to crack ribs." Draco came to his rescue. "Where's my hug?"

Blaise narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms across her chest. "You don't get one, Malfoy. My hugs are reserved for nice people."

"I'm nice!" he protested. "Pansy, aren't I nice?"

"Draco is so nice," Pansy gushed. "Nice and handsome, nice and polite, nice and muscular."

"Stop that. I'm going to be sick," Blaise declared.

The fireplace roared again to announce Crabbe. "Hey guys," he said in greeting, his voice now settled into a husky baritone. "Wow, nice room. Looks great."

"Thank you," Harry said. Crabbe and Goyle seldom had cutting words for anyone. They seldom had many words, full stop.

Millie arrived next, wearing very grubby robes. "If we're going to clean, we're going to get dirty," she said. "No sense in destroying my good robes. Which is good, because I don't have any good robes. Anymore."

Jenna brought Harry a house-warming gift of a cedar candle. By all appearances it was a block of cedar wood, but the wick sticking out the top proclaimed otherwise.

"It'll fill even a big house like this one," she told him.

Harry was quite touched by the thoughtful present. "Jenna, you're the best. This is great."

Blaise looked very unhappy. She probably wished she'd thought to bring a house-warming present.

"My parents suggested it, but I picked it out." Jenna's smile contained none of her usual smirk. "I'm glad you like it." She turned to Draco. "Where's your house-warming gift, Mister Proper Manners?"

"I'm making the house liveable?"

"Ah," she said, sounding slightly disappointed.

Goyle arrived with a silent nod at everyone by way of hello. On his heels came Tim, who looked like an unmade bed. His robes were wrinkled, his hair hadn't been combed, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Shut up, Parkinson," was the first thing out of his mouth.

"I didn't say anything!" she protested.

"Good. Keep it that way."

"Now see here, Nott-" she began hotly, pointing her finger imperiously.

"Hello, everyone!" Sirius said jovially as he entered the drawing room.

"Hello, Mister Black," Harry's friends said politely.

Sirius scowled fiercely at them. "You say 'Mister Black', and I turn around to look for my father. I won't answer unless it's to 'Sirius'. The first one of you to make a pun out my name will be forced to clean without magic. It gets worse from there. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sirius, perfectly clear," Harry said with exaggerated patience.

"Good." Sirius was all smiles again. "We're going to the ground floor. Everyone follow me."

Sirius did not jump over the bannister but led the gang down to the entry hall where Remus was scratching his head in front of Mother Black's portrait. The curtains were closed, but as the sounds of their footsteps rang down, the curtains flew back, and the vile old witch started raining abuse down on Remus.

"Filth! Vermin! Disease-ridden swine! I command you to leave the house of my fathers at once!"

"Oh, shut up," Remus replied. "You're boring me."

"Of course you remember Professor Lupin," Sirius said.

"Just Remus, if you please. Hello, children. It's a pleasure to see you all again."

"Hello, Prof- I mean, Remus," Jenna said warmly. "What are you doing here?"

"Remus is one of my old school friends, as you know," Sirius answered. "He's been good enough to lend a wand to cleaning up this ramshackle old place."

"What further trash do you parade through this honoured house, oh ungrateful child?" Mother Black demanded, eyeing the others.

"Trash!" Draco repeated, completely outraged. "Trash? I am Draco Augustus Malfoy, son of Narcissa Black. I demand an apology!"

Mother Black's image fell out of her chair. "Oh my dear boy," she whispered. "Please forgive an old witch for her failing eyes. With vermin and blood traitors running rampant, I assumed that only more would come. I am so deeply sorry."

Draco still looked very angry. "Blood traitors? Before you stands the whole of Slytherin fourth form, you blind old cooz! How dare you insult the name of Malfoy, the name of Parkinson? And I am of your family!"

"Please," Mother Black pleaded, sounding genuinely remorseful. "I am an old witch, blind of eye and quick of tongue."

"And slow of wit," Pansy sneered.

"A thousand apologies, Miss Parkinson. Now that you are closer, I can see the resemblance to your noble grandfather, may he know eternal peace."

"Is she like this all the time?" Draco asked Harry.

"Yes, actually. She's stuck to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, and we haven't figured out how to get her down."

"It can't be done," Tim said instantly. "They call it permanent for a reason."

"So we've noticed," Sirius said dryly. "We haven't had any luck unravelling the spell."

"She's stuck to that wall for good," Tim continued. "So the only solution is to remove the wall."

Silence reigned, even over Mother Black. You could have heard a pin drop.

"It's brilliant!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Ingenious," Remus praised.

"I told you he was smart," Harry said.

"Impossible!" Mother Black shrieked.

But it was not.

Sirius and Remus carefully pried the wall away from the support beams holding up the staircase. Sure enough, Mother Black's portrait went with the wall it was stuck to. She continued to call down doom upon them as Sirius' wand directed the wall down to the far end of the hall. When she'd been relegated as far away as possible, Sirius turned to Tim with a grin.

"My young friend, you have done me a great service. Tell me, what can I do for you?"

"Let me clean the library," Tim said instantly.

"Done. I'll even join you." Sirius looked at the others. "I recommend we deploy the elves into the dining room. Divide up the sitting room and arsenal however you wish, but Tim and I will need help in the library, too. There are a few silver weapons in the arsenal, Remus, so you'd better take the sitting room."

"Professor Lupin? I mean, Mister Lupin?" Pansy spoke up politely.

"Sirius, we didn't go and get old, did we?"

"Well, you got respectable. Title and all."

"Remus?" Pansy corrected herself.

"Yes, Pansy?"

"Am I right in thinking you know a lot about astronomy?"

Remus didn't bat an eye at the sensitive question. "I certainly do. As I remember, that's your favourite subject, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. If you wouldn't mind, could we talk about it and work together?"

Remus smiled. "I'd like that."

"Hey, don't forget about me," Crabbe spoke up. Astronomy was his favourite subject as well.

Jenna went with them into the sitting room. Blaise, of course, wanted to get into the library as much as Tim. Millie, not much of a reader, surprisingly joined them.

Draco volunteered for the arsenal, which he thought would be very interesting. Goyle naturally wanted to look too, so he picked that room as well. Harry threw in his lot with them.

Draco and Pansy both directed their elves to make the dining room absolutely immaculate.

"I mean it," Draco said to a miserable-looking Dobby. "I want to be able to eat off that floor."

"Dobby understands, sir," the elf said obediently, blinking his great eyes several times.

"Sirius?" Harry asked. "Where's Kreacher? Your elf?"

"Who cares?" was Sirius' flippant answer.

"He could help, couldn't he?"

"If by help, you mean hinder, then yes. He was a royal pain while I was cleaning out your room. He kept trying to run off and save things I was throwing away."

"Well he's been alone for a long time, right? Maybe he just needs to get used to real people again. And maybe the other elves can help." Harry turned to Nibby. "Would you try talking to Kreacher?"

Nibby considered the question, tipping his head to the side and scratching his chin. He yelped when Draco nudged him with a foot. "Oh yes, sir, Nibby would help. Nibby will tell this Kreacher that it is an elf's place to clean and cook and carry."

"We's be helping, too," one of Pansy's elves piped up squeakily. "Kreacher is being a bad elf to let this house get so bad. We make him into a good elf so that he keeps it good once we make it clean."

Pansy's nose rose slowly into the air as she looked around proudly.

"Well, thank you, elves," Sirius said. "It would be hard for me and Harry to keep it up on our own."

"What would you do when I go back to Hogwarts?"

"Burn the place and rent a flat."

"Not after we clean it," Harry warned. "I won't do all this work for nothing."

"Then let's go rent a flat."

"No way," Harry argued. "I like this big, old place. I like my room."

Sirius' grin was a bit goofy. "Then I guess we're staying. Kreacher! Come here at once!"

With an ear-splitting bang, a miserable-looking elf appeared. Except for a filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey, and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike, just like the heads on the wall.

The elf bowed low, nearly touching its nose to the carpet. "Kreacher has answered like the good elf he is," he said clearly before dropping into a still audible mutter, "even though Master smells like a drain and a criminal to boot."

Three of the other elves looked horrified at Kreacher's awful words. Dobby just stared blankly.

Kreacher's nose was still sunk into the carpet. In a hoarse voice that was deep and sounded like bullfrogs, it muttered, "Whole house smells like beast and vermin and slime. Oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher? Oh, the shame of it! Blood traitors and werewolves! Poor old Kreacher, what can he do?"

"What was that, Kreacher?" Sirius asked sharply.

"Kreacher said nothing, Master. You have called for Kreacher. Command Kreacher," he requested, before immediately adding in his undertone, "so that Kreacher can leave his odious presence."

"Kreacher," Draco snapped imperiously. "Look at me. My mother was Narcissa Black. Are you casting aspersions on my blood?"

Kreacher wilted like a hothouse flower taken into a howling blizzard. "Oh, young master, do not be playing fun with Kreacher." It looked up with insanely hopeful eyes. "Do it be true?"

"My name is on the Black family tree. You can look it up. I'm Draco Malfoy." He could not have sounded prouder. "Your master was cleared by the Ministry for the matter he was falsely imprisoned for. Do not call him a criminal again!" Now Draco sounded genuinely angry.

Kreacher threw himself onto the floor in front of Sirius and started to bawl. "Master has seen the light! Mistress always held out hope that the world would change you. Many times Kreacher heard her say this."

Sirius looked down at the elf with revulsion, and the expression he had when he looked at Draco was unfathomable. "Stand up Kreacher. Master commands."

Kreacher stood ramrod straight. "What will Kreacher do?"

"You're going to work with these other elves to clean the dining room."

"Kreacher does not need other elves. Kreacher will clean. It will be cleanest dining room in all of Britain."

Sirius still looked as though breakfast had disagreed with him, but he said, "Let's get to work."

Harry led the way to the arsenal. As they approached the door at the end of the entry hall, they could hear the muffled noise of Mother Black as she screamed face-first into the floor. Perhaps it was best they didn't let Kreacher see that. Draco opened the door and bowed graciously as he gestured for them to enter.

"Ladies first."

Harry grinned at him. "There's no ladies allowed in the arsenal."

"What a splendid idea."

The arsenal was, in a word, impressive. Even despite the dust, Harry could tell that many things here were of the highest quality. There were no information cards like at a museum, so Harry knew he would be doing a bit of research onto where these things came from.

One piece looked like a set of protective pads he'd once seen an American footballer wearing, only done in red-enamelled metal. A tatty, flowing black cape, grey with dust, was attached at the shoulders. Arcane symbols decorated the armour in fading blue paint.

Another stand had a strange leather cap decorated with inky black feathers. Harry didn't need anyone to tell him it was full of Dark magic. It raised the hair on his arms when he stood too close.

"Wicked," Draco said with admiration. "This is a real man's place."

"You're right, Draco," Harry said. "We need to find a place like this up at school."

"You've got one," Draco replied, cocking an eyebrow. "Or have your forgotten about the Chamber of Secrets, Lord Potter?"

Hearing the name he'd really only used once before sent a shiver down his spine. In the confrontation with Tom Riddle, the boy whom Lord Voldemort had once been, whose spirit had been raised out of a magical diary by an unsuspecting Ginny Weasley, Harry had claimed the title Heir of Slytherin. Riddle, in whose veins ran the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, had been defeated with his own monster. The queen of all serpents, Eithne the Basilisk, now answered to Harry. That night, in thanks for saving his sister's life, Percy Weasley had knelt at Harry's feet and pledged his loyalty to Lord Potter.

Harry still didn't know how he felt about claiming to be the Lord of anything. He'd used Percy a couple of times during third year, but he'd had no choice. He'd needed to forge his Hogsmeade permission slip, and only Percy knew the secrets of the Marauder's Map, secrets he'd taken from his younger twin brothers, Fred and George. That had been a matter of life and death. By magical law, not wizarding law, that created a debt between Percy and Harry. Percy had sworn his life to Harry in payment.

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry said casually. "But I wouldn't want to listen to you moan about how dirty you'd get every time we went in."

"We could probably fix that, you know. It's only dirty from neglect. A few cleaning spells would make it much better."

"Let's see your cleaning spells," Harry invited, gesturing at the disgustingly dirty room.

Draco obliged, and soon they were working up a tremendous sweat.

"So you certainly jumped to Sirius' defence back there," Harry observed to Draco.

"I object to being called trash," Draco said, still sounding bristled. "That barmy witch obviously filled Kreacher's head with her rantings. If there'd been a person living here, he'd probably be just fine."

"I appreciate it," Harry told his best mate. "It means a lot to me that you like my godfather."

"He's my family," Draco replied with a shrug and another casual Scouring Charm. "I don't much care about the stuff that happened before we were born. What's important is how things go now. He's my family, he's your father's best friend, he's your godfather, and you're my best mate in the world. It's pretty simple to me. Mother and Father, on the other hand, think things are complicated."

"I know," Harry said. "I thought Sirius and your dad might start fighting when we saw them on the platform. You should have seen the way they were staring at each other."

"That wouldn't have been good," Draco observed, stating the obvious.

The boys worked hard until the rumbling from Goyle's stomach became too deafening to permit conversation. Strangely, even the usual jibes about his appetite failed to elicit any response. In fact, Goyle looked like he'd lost some weight. Oddly enough, he didn't look any healthier for it. His skin was sallow, and dark circles under his eyes proclaimed his lack of rest. He hadn't said more than ten words all day, either, which was quiet even for him.

"Oh, I'm fine," he sighed heavily when they inquired. "Just haven't been sleeping well." He paused, seeming to set himself. "My dog Stanley died a couple days after I got home."

"Oh no," Draco exclaimed.

"Goyle, I'm so sorry," Harry said.

Goyle coughed and grunted several times, and Harry knew he was trying to hide his emotions.

"How old was he?" Harry asked gently.

"Almost fifteen. He was an old dog."

"That is old."

"I've had him since he was a puppy. He was my friend," Goyle choked out, "and I miss him." Tears were welling up in the stoic boy's eyes, and he closed them tightly, trying to keep his composure.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I had to get out. I needed to be with you guys. Back home is just too raw for me."

"Sure, mate," Harry responded. He'd never had a pet until recently, but he knew how he'd feel if anything happened to Regal, his eagle owl that had been a Christmas present from Draco three years ago.

Goyle swallowed hard and seemed to pull himself together. He nodded firmly. "I'm okay now. Let's eat."

They broke for a quick bite of a meal not quite lunch, not quite tea. It amounted to a cup of tea to wash down the sandwiches in addition to the pumpkin juice. With four capable elves in the kitchen, they feasted on hot pastrami, a food Sirius claimed to have been craving. Harry guessed that he himself might start developing cravings for it as he fought down the urge to lick his fingers when he was done.

Though the dining room was not quite finished, the effort the elves had put in was very noticeable. Sandwiches were served on fine china bearing the Black family crest and motto. Sirius stared at it in obvious disgust until he forced himself to look away.

"So, who do you favour in the Cup, this year?" he asked Draco.

"Montrose, of course. Best of all time."

"They have been doing well the past few years."

"Years?" Draco repeated incredulously.

"Yes. Six in a row, isn't it?"

"Try ten of the last thirteen!"

"Well, there is that," Sirius admitted. "Tim, what about you?"

"Huh?" Tim had been staring into his juice, deep in thought.

"The Cup this year. Who's your pick?"

"Oh. Um, Wimbourne."

"The Wasps?" Draco exclaimed. "You're kidding. They even got beat by Chudley last weekend!"

Tim gave him a withering look. "Whatever. I don't care."

That was odd. Tim loved Quidditch, and he and Draco often got into rousing rows about teams, matches, plays, and players. For him to not care about being dead wrong in his prediction was very peculiar.

"I agree with Draco," Harry said to ease past what could have been an awkward moment. "Montrose has been phenomenal this year." Harry read the sport pages.

The boys discussed Quidditch ad nauseum, which was no surprise given that the World Cup final was being held in Britain this year. Pansy and Jenna were giggling at the far end of the table, not paying any attention at all to the boys. Millie, of course, was arguing with Draco about a bad call during the last world final. Blaise sat in the middle, not talking to anyone and looking bored out of her mind.

At length, Harry's friends had to go home for dinner. Draco left with a promise that he and the elves would return in the morning. Not to be outdone, Pansy ordered her elves to come at first light and help Kreacher prepare breakfast.

Tim barely said goodbye before he left, and Blaise was nearly mute as she entered the Floo. Crabbe and Goyle both left for Pike Hollow, as their families were dining together. Millie squeezed Harry's breath out of him as she said farewell.

"'Parting is such sweet sorrow,'" Jenna said, dramatically placing one hand against her forehead.

"Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act two, Scene two," Remus recited. "Though I prefer Dickens, myself. 'The pain of parting is nothing compared to the joy of meeting again.'"

"That's beautiful," Jenna said with a smile. "I'm not really a fan of the theatre," she admitted. "I just like to spout a quote every now and then. Makes one seem cultured."

Remus and Sirius both laughed. Harry, too.

"And on that note, good night."

With a flash, Jenna disappeared into the Floo Network.

"I think I'm going to depart as well," Remus said, reaching for the Floo powder. "I've spent every waking hour for the past week here, and I'm starting to think I live here."

"We've got plenty of spare rooms," Harry joked. "Some of them are even clean."

"If you need a place, Moony, you know you don't have to ask."

Remus smiled gratefully. "I know. But I've got to feed the cat."

"Moony, you don't have a cat."

"It's my neighbour's cat. She's on vacation."

"Didn't you go with her?"

"Not that Cheryl isn't a very nice girl, but she's got the most horrid voice imaginable." Remus' smile was a bit rueful now. "They're never perfect, are they?"

"They'd be boring if they were," Sirius said wisely.

"Good night, old friend." The two men embraced briefly, thumping each other on the back in a manly fashion.

"Good night, Harry. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Remus."

In a flash of green flame, Remus was gone.

Harry and Sirius looked at each other. They'd had scarcely a handful of minutes together since going out for pizza nearly a week ago. Even those few moments had been largely related to work they were doing on the house.

"So now what?" Harry asked, just to break the silence.

"I'm content to not do any more work," Sirius offered.

"That's generous. Let's do something fun."

"What did you have in mind? What's fun?"

"Well, Quidditch is fun, but you can't play much of that indoors."

"Very true. And there's only two of us."

"Do you play chess?"

"Not for a long time. I'm afraid I never was very good at it. If it's chess you wanted, maybe I should have gone and Moony stayed."

Harry didn't care about playing chess. It had only been an idea. Somehow he didn't want to suggest Gobstones or Exploding Snap. "I've got a few music crystals we could listen to. Do you like music? Let me tell you about the time I went to see Wand Smasher and ended up getting snaps with them at intermission."

* * *

Monday morning found Harry cleaning bookshelves in the library with Draco, Jenna, Pansy, and Remus. Draco and Pansy weren't doing much cleaning, though. They'd snuck away in the far stacks for a snog. Jenna and Harry had giggled about it as they worked. Together, they would empty a bookcase one shelf at a time (with magic, of course), and scour until the wood practically gleamed of its own accord. Then each book was picked up, clapped, dusted off, and put away. It was very slow going.

Jenna kept up a constant stream of chatter about the Quidditch World Cup, which her dad had got tickets for months and months ago. He'd refused to elaborate on the details of how he'd come by them, Jenna said conspiratorially. He'd just told his family to be grateful for them.

Harry hadn't gotten tickets. He was in a bit of a muddle, for tickets had sold out within days, and now only two months away, finding a way to attend would be problematic at best.

He scowled as an unpleasant realization came to him. He was Harry Potter. He could get tickets if he wanted them. All he had to do was talk to the right people and all kinds of magic could happen.

He hated it. As much as he liked living in this very tall house, he'd much rather be perfectly anonymous in Godric's Hollow with his mum and dad.

Harry shoved that wistfulness away. It was never going to be like that. Where he lived now was worlds better than where he had been, and he wouldn't diminish it with comparisons to impossible fantasies.

"I've got to contact the Department of Magical Games and Sports," Harry said when Jenna paused for breath. "We don't have tickets yet."

"But tickets sold out months ago."

"Harry Potter gets to go to the World Cup," Harry said sourly. "They'll be falling all over themselves to make it happen."

Jenna grimaced with him. "You can't change it, you know. You're always going to be the hero of the world to some people."

"That's what I hate about it. I didn't even do anything."

"That will come in time," she reassured him. "You've just got to get trained up a bit more, that's all. Then you'll do great things."

"How do you know?" Harry wondered at her steadfast faithfulness in him.

"Because you already have." Jenna had either perfected her sarcasm or she meant every word. "He's still out there, Harry. I haven't forgotten what happened in our first year. He's going to try to come back again. What else can he do? And if that doesn't happen by the time we finish school, I think you're going to go after him. There's a piece of him still clinging to life, and you want to break it."

It seemed that Jenna, when she wasn't giggling, had a very keen eye. She'd pegged it exactly what Harry had in mind.

"If ridding the world of a black stain of murdering evil doesn't merit a few tickets to a Quidditch match, I'd like to know what would."

Harry grinned. Jenna always could seem to make him smile. She had an infectious humour that bordered on the outrageous, and Harry had learned how to find the funny things in life from her.

Remus came by just then to check on their progress. They'd managed to restore an entire row of bookshelves by themselves. He had tackled the darkest corner by himself and emerged dirty and scratched.

"Ladder decided it didn't want to be climbed any more," he said in response to Harry's silent inquisition. "Very nice job, you two. Where are Pansy and Draco?"

"We're right here," Draco said, picking up a book and clapping the cover, sending a cloud of dust billowing. He accidentally inhaled and fell to a coughing fit.

"You're very practised at this, I see," Remus said dryly.

Jenna snickered. "That's Draco, always helping."

"Did you lose Pansy in the stacks?" Harry asked pointedly.

"She got thirsty and went for a drink."

"She could just have summoned one of her elves," Jenna said scornfully. "Draco, you need to stop making up stories."

Pansy appeared then, and she had a book in her hand. Harry couldn't read the text upside down, but he plainly recognized star patterns.

"All reading and no working?" Remus asked.

"Sorry," Pansy apologized. "I looked at the title and had to open it. Now I can't put it down."

"What?" Remus said sharply. "Can't? At all?"

"Oh, not like that," Pansy said reassuringly. "It's just fascinating."

"Please be careful with your words," he pleaded. "There are books like that, that you can't stop reading. It's very tricky magic to undo the curse."

"Well then it's a good thing you're the best Defence teacher we ever had," Pansy said, tossing her black hair with a quick head movement. She wasn't wearing her pigtails today. Her hair was very shiny and kept falling forward into her face.

"What do you say we drag the elves away from cleaning and have lunch?" Draco suggested. "I've worked up quite an appetite."

"Doing what?" Jenna wondered as they crossed the hallway into the dining room.

Sirius looked to be having a lot of fun. He'd painted a target on the far wall and expanded a dustbin to occupy the space all along the bottom of the wall. He, Goyle, and Crabbe were taking turns flinging the Black family china at the target. The shattered dishes fell into the dustbin with a great clatter. A scoreboard done in flaming red and green letters proclaimed that Gryffindor was beating Slytherin by sixty points.

"Hah-hah!" Sirius laughed with child-like glee. Harry supposed Sirius had a right to break it if he wanted to, but now what were they going to eat on?

"Wow, that looks like way more fun than dusty old books," Draco exclaimed.

For no apparent reason, Pansy jabbed him hard in the side.

"Ow!"

"Brat."

"What was that for?"

"Because you're a brat."

"Hello, children!" Sirius didn't even look winded. "Tired of the library already?"

"It's lunchtime, Sirius," Harry replied.

"Already?"

"Yup."

"Time flies when you're making ugly dishes fly."

"We're about to have the elves make lunch. Any requests?"

While the elves were reassigned, Harry and the others got into the game. Remus joined Sirius' team, with their score being averaged. All of the Slytherins were averaged as well, so their individual scores counted for less. Though they made it a close contest, the former Gryffindors won.

"Good sport," Draco said. "But I'm afraid we're out of dishes."

"Time to repair the wall, then," Sirius replied. With a wave of his wand, the dustbin returned to normal size and walked outside to be emptied. The target vanished, and the scars left by the shattered crockery melted away.

After lunch, Sirius and Harry went to inspect the final touches the elves had done on the arsenal and sitting room. The humans had done a lot of work on Sunday, but letting the elves finish the job let them look at other interesting parts of the house.

The armour was burnished to a brilliant shine. Even the bits with Dark magic in them looked very glamorous. Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere. Harry would not have recognized it for the same room had he not cleaned some of it himself.

The sitting room was a cosy little affair with plush chairs and a shining tea service on a corner table. It wasn't silver but white gold, Sirius told him. The elves had done an amazing job in here as well.

"This is actually starting to look like a house again instead of a dust heap."

"I told you, Sirius, it just needed a little work."

"We'll get there, Harry. Thanks for inviting your friends over to help."

"No problem."

The elves had been a tremendous help, there could be no doubt. They started on the entry hall and had it looking dazzling by dinner time. The crystal chandelier once more shed radiant light. The house seemed more cheerful now.

The only room on the ground floor not finished was now the library. Their progress was retarded by the fact that most of the Slytherins couldn't help but take a "quick" peek at interesting books. Sirius declared that it would be an on-going project to be worked on as time allowed.

With the ground floor otherwise complete and the first floor fully clean, the party moved to the second floor on Tuesday. Remus had a job interview to go to, so he couldn't come by. Sirius went back to the library.

All the teenagers were back as they tackled the duelling room. With five elves at work, it was immaculate by tea time. After a quick snack, the children returned to the room for a little bit of practice with some of their other spells.

"Come on then," Draco said to Harry. "Let's give it a go."

"I'm knackered," Harry declined as he sprawled out on one of the chairs that lined the wall. "Though I suppose that would make it a fair fight."

Draco scowled. "Just for that, I'm not going to play fair."

"Not like you would have played fair anyway," Harry shot back. "You know, I've never properly yelled at you for the last time we duelled."

"What for?"

"Casting a snake at me?" Harry asked, still not believing it. "Completely unfair, and as a result the whole school thought I was the Heir of Slytherin."

"You are the Heir of Slytherin."

"Not at the time, I wasn't."

"Very well, then," Draco said pompously. "I apologize for helping you discover one of your magical gifts."

"Git."

"Prat."

"Centaur's earwax."

Jenna let out a peal of laughter. "Nice one, Harry."

"Thank you, Jenna. Be a dear and duel Draco so I can have some peace."

"Do I have to use my off hand?"

"Okay, that's enough," Draco declared.

"Maybe someone will trade wands with me," Jenna speculated. "Then we ought to be just about even, Draco."

"Leave poor Draco alone," Pansy cooed sympathetically, rubbing Draco's shoulders gently. "If you want to duel someone, Jenna, pick on Blaise."

"Me?" Blaise hadn't been very talkative. She'd focused on cleaning the walls, a task which kept her a bit distant from the others.

"Yes, you."

"Why me?"

Now Pansy appeared irritated. "Don't argue, Zabini. Get up there and give us a bit of fun."

The look Blaise was giving Pansy hovered between disbelief and dislike. With a snotty harrumph, she marched up the stairs to the duelling platform as Jenna trailed along with a wicked grin on her face.

Jenna's bow reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart's during the one meeting of the Hogwarts Duelling Club. She waved her arms extravagantly and sank low, kicking one foot out to hold her balance. Blaise, by comparison, seemed as irritated as Professor Snape had been in that duel. She curtseyed almost defiantly, never taking her eyes off Jenna.

Pansy sat straighter in her chair. She held Draco's hand almost absently as she focused on the duelling stage and the witches about to duel. A faint smirk creased her red-painted lips.

"En garde!" Goyle called out in a saucy French accent.

"Os comme gelée!" Very appropriately, Blaise cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx. The jet of purple light missed the mark, sailing over Jenna's shoulder and striking the wall.

Jenna brought her own wand into position and shouted, "Petrificus totalis!" The blast of white light would have struck Blaise full in the face if she hadn't ducked out of the way.

"Obstringere!" Thin cords of rope appeared from nowhere to ensnare Jenna, but she burned them to ashes with a fire spell as Blaise cast a shield.

"Confundus!" Yellow light lashed out and deflected off the shield.

"Rictusempra!"

"Furunculus!" That was the hex that gave boils. Pansy giggled as the red light struck Blaise, unable to move in time. Blaise shouted in pain as her hand, caught as she tried to dodge, exploded with swollen eruptions.

"You want to play that way?" Blaise yelled at Jenna. "Fine! Locomotor mortis!"

The yellow light of the Leg-Locker Curse flew across the stage, dead on target. Jenna hastily tried to cast a shield, but the spell caught her directly in the chest. She launched into the air and crashed into the wall with a resounding smash. Blaise ran down the length of the stage and stood triumphantly with his fists on her hips.

"Had enough?" she called down smugly.

Jenna, in a pile at the foot of the wall, raised her wand. Harry couldn't hear the spell she cast, but the edge of the stage suddenly gave way, dumping Blaise onto the floor. Jenna didn't bother getting up, but cast "Expelliarmus!" and sent Blaise's wand skittering along the polished hardwood floor.

"Jenna wins!" Pansy declared in a ceremonial voice.

Blaise staggered to her feet. "That's fighting dirty," she complained.

"All's fair in love and war," Pansy said in answer. "She held on to her wand and you didn't. It's that simple."

Blaise scowled and went to retrieve her wand. Tucking it away, she flounced into a chair and stuck her nose in a book. Her cheeks were flushed, and her shoulders rose and fell with every deep breath she took.

"Jenna?" Harry called. "Are you okay?"

She sat up, brushed her blonde hair out of her face, and managed a wobbly smile at them. She stood on shaky legs and walked over slowly. She sat gingerly in the plush chair, relief plain on her face as she relaxed.

"Just a few bumps and bruises," she said lightly. "Nothing a cold glass of tea wouldn't fix."

"It is tea time," Draco noted.

"Then summon the elves. We'll take tea here, because I'm not getting out of this chair for at least a week."

Jenna was in cheerful spirits, flush from her victory over Blaise. She made more and more outrageous sallies, and finally Blaise announced that she had to go home. Tim offered to escort her down to the drawing room and didn't come back, but the seven children had a splendid time anyway.

to be continued...