Blood Magic

Chapter 81 -- The Morning After

Severus woke to screams -- not of pain, but of loss. Alarm pitched him off his bed and through the door in an instant. He was half-way across the pitch-black sitting room when the howls subsided.

He stopped cautiously at the open door to Harry's room.

The sky outside the enchanted window was grey, and a pale light diffused through the chamber. Harry was on the bed, his covers scattered by the violence of his waking, curled up and rocking with the effort to contain his distress. He no longer screamed, but his continuous muted keening was broken by choked sobs. Severus crossed the room and sat on the bed. After a moment's hesitation, he let his hand go where it wanted, to Harry's dark hair, and brushed it back from the boy's temple in long strokes. He watched his son struggle to steady his breathing.

"He's gone."

The words were so strained as to be barely intelligible. Severus sighed. "Child. Now you do understand."

He waited for a few minutes while Harry's distress grew quieter. It took several attempts before the boy managed to speak again, but when he did, his voice was stronger.

"I -- when it ended, I could feel him being torn away from me. It woke me. It hurt. Sorry about the noise."

Severus shrugged. "I needed to wake soon, in any case."

"I ... I haven't felt so alone since Sirius died. There's no reason for it -- it wasn't what we were; it wasn't anything I wanted to be; he's perfectly fine; he's out there, somewhere."

Harry managed to sit up. He pulled a blanket over his legs -- for comfort, Severus guessed, as his nightclothes were far more decent than the previous night's outfit. "Is it that it ended so soon? Would it be less awful if it happened later?"

"I have no personal experience of the dominant end of such a spell, but the effects of taking the Dark Mark --" Severus tried not to let his breath shorten with the memory of the transitive power of being completely subsumed into the Dark Lord's glory -- "decreased notably with time. The first few days were by far the most unmanageable." He frowned. "That is only a related spell, however. The emphasis of the Morsmordre's binding is on ownership, not loyalty, so it was never as emotional." He was not actually certain that was true, but if Harry's behavior indicated anything beyond Harry's personality, the emotions were quite different.

Harry sighed. "He's going to hate me."

Severus hesitated. "Quite likely."

Comforting, aren't you?"

"I see no reason to cosset you with false assurances. I will give you any help I can; I will not tell you it will be all right."

"Okay." Harry glanced down, then looked back at him with something like relief muting the pain. "Thanks. So ... what do you think Dumbledore will do to me?"

"I don't know. You did use Dark Arts on a fellow student. However, I intend to remind him of the Weakening Curse, and point out that your judgment continues to be impaired. In my opinion, you should be barred from any access to restricted materials and watched closely until you have regained some sense of limits. After that ..." Severus shrugged slightly. "That will depend on how well you behave."

"Oh." Harry seemed to be shivering. "I'm sorry."

"There will be time for apologies later -- I hope. In case you have forgotten, we have an appointment at the Ministry in a few short hours. Right now, we both need a bath, breakfast, proper clothing, and a discussion of more immediate strategies." Severus felt his mouth twitch in a flicker of amusement. "Since I was the one thrashing on the ground, you bathe first; I'll take longer. When you are done, contact the house elves and have them fetch down appropriate clothing. Perhaps the green robes, or that outfit you purchased on your own."

"Not the red?"

"Too ostentatious. The green would be best."

***********

The house elf disappeared with a pop, and Harry rubbed at his forehead. He felt abandoned. His head swam with odd memories -- Cho storming out on him, Ron turning on him, Sirius gone -- but all overlaid with the picture of Draco kneeling at his feet, his upturned face glowing with joyful devotion. He felt simultaneously bereft and sickened. That is not Draco. Draco is not and never will be that! He began to whisper to himself. "I am mourning for a doll, a ..." He cast around wildly for the proper term from a Dark Creatures text. "... a golem. A thing in his image."

Harry stared at the soft folds of his green robes. He didn't see how he was going to get through the hearing; he couldn't even think about the hearing. He forced himself to smooth back his hair. He really needed to go brush it, but he continued to stand where he was.

He heard a crash in the bathroom.

"All right?"

"Yes!" came a snarling reply. "Go make tea."

Harry sighed, and started towards the kitchen. He had seen the tremors in his father's hands while they spoke, however much Severus chose to ignore them. He might be recovering, but he was not yet past the effects of his torture. Neither of them would be at their best for the hearing.

There was a knock at the door. Harry ran back to look in the mirror. The moment he saw it was Draco, he fumbled the door open.

Draco shot inside and turned, his mouth already open to speak, before he saw who had let him in. The color drained from his face.

"YOU! You bastard!" Icy fury filled his voice, and his grey eyes narrowed in loathing. Harry was horrifyingly reminded of Malfoy senior. "You arrogant, self-absorbed little prick!"

"Draco, I'm sorry! I shouldn't ha-"

"Damn right! I WAS HONEST WITH YOU! I told you things! How dare you force me!"

"Look, Draco, there was a lot at stake --"

"There's always a lot at stake!"

"I was AFRAID, all right? I'm sorry. It was a horrible thing to do --"

"You think you can do anything! As if having the proper goals excused any behavior! That's what my father's like, you know. That's what all of them --"

"I SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE IT! If I had it to do over, I wouldn't. Please listen for a --"

"I have no REASON TO LISTEN --"

"I'M SORRY!"

A door opened behind Harry, bringing the scent of warmed soap. He could hear the bath draining. Malfoy stood silent for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face slowly emptying of emotion. He shook back his short fringe. "That is not adequate."

"Yes! It's not adequate! I know it's not adequate! Go decide what IS." Harry tried to catch his breath. His throat hurt. "Then talk to me. You're important to me."

"Yes, I daresay you'll need your own servants soon."

"Stop it!"

"Harry," Severus said coolly, "Draco -- this is not the time."

Draco looked past Harry and his eyes narrowed.

"He slept here, didn't he?"

"Draco, I mean it. This is not the time. I must escort Harry to London." Severus tightened his lips as if holding back words for a moment. He took a breath. "When we return, I will tell you what has been happening, and then the two of you can shout at each other as much as you wish."

Draco drew himself up. "I don't wish ever again to speak to him." He looked contemptuously at Severus. "And I'm not certain about you, either."

"Then you can hear my news with the rest of your house. Go."

Draco turned on his heel and stalked out. The door closed hard behind him.

Harry tried to breathe. He could feel Severus behind him, not touching, but standing close, the warmth of the bath still radiating off him.

"Dad?" Harry said tentatively. He looked down to hide the blush he could feel crawling up his skin. "Sorry."

"If you are apologizing for not speaking like the well-drilled heir of a crashing snob, you can forget it. I gave up trying to be Lucius Malfoy before you were born."

The tone was too dry for Harry to get much sense of his father's mood. He dared to turn and look. It didn't help. Severus looked intense, but Harry could read nothing more in his drawn face.

"But you ... you're so formal."

"And you are so formal. And it bothers me no end."

"Oh." Harry felt lost. "You never ... said anything."

"There was no point, when you wouldn't have been comfortable." In the face of Harry's continued study, he sighed, and his shoulders settled slightly. "You don't call me 'Dad.' That's what you call James." He shrugged.

Harry considered this for a minute, while he struggled for words. "It was...." Watching Severus carefully, he said, "It took a while to work out the ways he was still my father."

"Ah. And?"

"Through my mum, in defiance of Voldemort, in hope and fear, by love ..." Harry bit his lip. "... in all ways, by choice."

Black eyes flickered down, then up. "Blood or no, I also chose to be your father."

Harry smiled. "I know." He glanced down. "Um ... are you my dad, then?"

A smile, brief, but unmistakable, flickered across his father's face. "If that suits you." He glared briefly. "Not in class."

"I suppose in class I should continue to address you as 'Professor' or 'Sir'?"

"Right in one."

"That's okay. I already think of you as a different person in class, anyway."

Severus raised his eyebrows at that, but did not ask for a clarification. "Are you ready for the hearing?"

Harry groaned. He could still picture Courtroom Ten, with the assembled Wizengamot glaring down at him. "I want a cigarette."

"No."

The reply was practically a growl. Harry grinned at the tone. "Well, that's something, anyway."

Severus studied him. "Being told you cannot?"

He felt himself heat, but managed a nod. "It's about as comforting -- in an entirely different way, of course."

His father snorted. "I had no idea I was so good at giving comfort."

Before Harry could think of a response, the fire flared in the grate, and Dumbledore's head appeared in the flames.

"Severus? Harry? You are ready, I hope?"

"I still need to dress, headmaster."

That was true, Harry noted. Severus had been standing in a grey dressing gown, all this time, with his wet hair dripping trails of water down his collar.

"No time to dawdle! And you're not to hide in the dungeons. I expect both of you at breakfast. Please send Harry up now, and come to my office as soon as you are presentable."

"Of course, headmaster."

"Harry, you will come speak to me after you have eaten. Don't take too much time -- Bill still needs to apply your mask."

Before stepping outside, Harry checked the mirror; the corridor was empty. It wasn't until he was opening the door that he realized it didn't matter. Voldemort already knew that Severus had betrayed him, and Harry was certain he could not repair the Dark Mark -- at least, not at a distance. Even if he knew about their relationship and the hearing -- and Severus, when asked, had laughed rather strangely and said he did not -- there was little he could do now.

It felt very odd, and very good, to walk openly up the stairs from the dungeons. Harry almost wished he would encounter someone, so he could wave and wish them a cheerful good morning.

As he entered the Great Hall, a group of laggard Ravenclaws were just crossing the floor; everyone else was already seated. People at all the tables -- though more at Gryffindor and Slytherin -- whispered as he made his way into the hall. For a moment, Harry wondered if they had found out about his parentage. It took a moment for his sleep-deprived mind to grasp the more likely explanations.

Right! I'm coming into breakfast in dress robes -- green dress robes, for Pete's sake! -- and I'm wondering why people are staring at me. He sniffed. It would be just my luck to dribble egg on them before the hearing! Hermione had saved him a spot between her and Dean. He hurried over and slipped into it.

"Well, good morning to you Harry!" Seamus said heartily. Some of the people at the next table over turned to look. "Had a pleasant night, did you?"

Harry didn't know what to say. Right. All of Gryffindor must know I was out all night. He reached for the sausages. "Not really," he muttered.

I wonder if Draco's having these problems, or if enough Slytherins were gone missing last night that no one's asking why he was one?

Lavender tittered and Colin snorted. Colin? Harry stared. As of last night, Colin had still been unconscious in a hospital bed. Dumbledore must have decided it was safe to release him, after last night's events. Hermione touched his arm to get his attention before giving him a look of genuine sympathy. She, at least, had some idea what his night had genuinely been like. He tried to ignore the signs of worry in her tired countenance.

"Pity," Parvati sighed. "He looks so dreamy."

Harry blinked. "He... who?"

"Oh really, Harry! Everyone knows you were with Malfoy!"

"I was not with -- Well, not with, with --"

She sniffed. "He just happened to leave the party right after you?"

Harry looked rapidly around. Most people were sniggering or looking away. Ron was bright red, but scowling at Parvati. "The whole Death Eater in training set left -- didn't you notice?"

This time, it was Hermione who snorted contemptuously. "Malfoy? Have you taken a look at him this morning, Ron?"

"I try to avoid looking at anything that might put me off my food."

"Obviously."

Neville glanced shyly at Harry, then away. "He's gone to a bit of trouble to bare his arms, I'd say."

Harry looked over Seamus's shoulder at the Slytherin table. Draco was wearing his standard school robes -- but he had threaded a sash through both arms to gather them up at his shoulders, as if he was working with something messy in Herbology. The shirt beneath had short, slim sleeves that left his arms bare to above the elbow. Harry smiled spontaneously at the sight. Doesn't seem that I've shoved him back into Voldemort's camp, at any rate. He's displaying that he's still his own man...

His smile faltered as he saw the girl sitting next to Draco -- Olivia. And all of Slytherin must know I walked out on her. Apprehensively, he dared a small nod in her direction, but Olivia glared back at Harry as if she would as soon kill him as speak to him.

Harry pretended he hadn't noticed. He let his gaze slip over her, and along the Slytherin table. Despite Draco's display, few of his whispering housemates seemed to be looking at him. Now that Harry had sat down, he seemed to have lost their attention as well. Instead, they glanced frequently up at the staff table.

Waiting for their head of house, I expect. Harry looked up at Severus's empty place as well. Have the ones that were with Voldemort talked? Belatedly, he realized how strange the story would sound, coming from the Death Eater students to their fellows: Oh yes, we slipped out and joined Voldemort and watched our favorite teacher being tortured. He wondered how their escape had looked to those present. He wondered if they had understood the end of it -- if they had been able to see anything through the circle of Death Eaters -- did they know Severus had escaped? Voldemort must have been furious -- no one would have dared speculate or gossip or answered the questions of a lot of callow schoolkids. They may not know what happened at all.

"But they did all leave!" Ron insisted, pulling Harry back to the matter of his supposed dalliance. "Right after ... well. Crabbe and Goyle and the Nott boy, and then Harry took off. So Malfoy --"

Seamus reached over and grabbed Harry's wrist. With mock seriousness, he said, "Well, perhaps we'd better check on our Harry, then --"

Harry realized what he was doing just as Seamus started to push his sleeve up, and twisted his arm free. Seamus's nails scraped along his wrist.

"Stop it!" Harry hissed.

Seamus looked genuinely shocked.

"You idiot! This is not funny! The Slytherins are staring at us!"

Seamus burst out laughing and gave Harry a friendly punch in the arm. "They'd be staring at you anyway -- Malfoy's been talking --"

"His pet troll actually hugged him when he turned up this morning!" Parvati contributed. "Pulled him right off the ground! We could tell he'd been missing all night, too."

"Ah, but I heard --"

"Seamus, I'm sorry to spoil your hot gossip, but several people were out all night, and --" Harry glared at Ron -- "only some of them -- some of us -- are Death Eaters." He leaned forward. That hadn't come out right at all. "I mean, the would-be Death Eaters and some of their friends left, and then the rest of us -- oh, damn it, I was just busy, okay?"

Ginny, from Dean's other side, sighed, but before she could speak, Jack started in. "I was behind a few of the Slytherins coming in --"

"Was it smelly?"

"-- and one of them was saying Snape was killed last night."

"Yes!" crowed a fourth year, causing scattered laughter. Ron looked anxiously at Harry, who shook his head minutely. While people talked about what they'd do with the time freed up from Potions assignments, Harry studied the Slytherins, carefully avoiding the place where Draco sat with Olivia.

Pansy was there, looking nervous, but not as shuttered as Draco. She was nodding absently in response to the conversation of the two girls to her left, but her eyes never left the front of the room. On her other side, Theodore Nott was slowly raising his fork to his lips, moving like a man who had been given the kiss. Harry scanned down the table for Crabbe and found him eating as steadily as a pig at a trough, absolutely like any other morning. In between, Crabbe and Nott, he again noticed how many Slytherins were whispering, rather than eating. Most of them looked upset.

"He could have just been fired."

"I heard Hagrid found, you know ... bits." There were more screams of nervous laughter. "Not all of them, mind...."

Harry poked his fork at a congealing sausage and listened to his housemates. He had heard some people ate when they were anxious. He wished he could. Across the hall, he watched Draco fume at the laughter from the Gryffindor table.

Neville's voice pitched in, more serious and quiet than the others. "What bothers me is Dumbledore. No one's seen him either. What if Snape betrayed him to You-Know-Who, during the ... whatever, last night?"

"I heard he went to You-Know-Who and brought all the seventh-year Slytherins with him."

"I don't think anything happened last night, really. There was nothing in the paper."

Harry poked at the sausage again, rolling it over. "Wait till they find the bodies."

Immediately, he was the center of attention, again.

"Who died?"

"Snape?

"Please say yes!" Iggy begged. "I haven't even started the research."

Harry looked sharply up. "No," he snapped. "He didn't die."

"Dumbledore?"

"Alive enough to scold me."

A sharp look from Hermione reminded him that she knew why Dumbledore had scolded him. Guiltily, Harry sought out Draco's place, again, and saw him standing behind the bench speaking angrily to a Slytherin girl. As he watched, Draco turned on his heel and stalked down the hall towards the door.

"Oh hell." He hadn't meant to say anything. It just slipped out.

Dean nudged him. "Things didn't go too well with him?"

His voice was low -- and gentle, Harry thought -- but Seamus overheard him and sniggered. He poked Harry's arm. "Yeah, you keep squirming out of the Malfoy question."

"We were both out! Fine! Lots of people were out last night!"

Seamus shook his head. "But Malfoy was the only one of them gone all night. One of his mates was ribbing him in the hallway, and he said you took him out walking, but then went home with an older man. Is it true?"

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Seamus!"

"Well, is it? You keep walking out on your girls, don't you now? I mean, everyone's noticed, by now."

"I went out walking by myself, Draco followed me, and I was escorted home by a teacher."

Seamus didn't look impressed. "Then where did you sleep?

"Where do I usually sleep when I'm not in Gryffindor?"

"Uhn-uh. You weren't in the hospital wing."

Harry looked around.

"Sorry," Ron said. "We checked."

Neville blushed. "Madam Pomfrey told us you don't live there."

Harry sighed. "Look, I fell asleep, okay? I wasn't with anyone."

Dean sniggered. "Too many bubbles?"

Harry pushed his plate away and leaned his face into his hands. "My reputation is toast."

"Exactly," Seamus said cheerily. "And you know what they say -- If life gives you toast, cover it with marmalade." He gestured broadly with a sticky spoon. "So give us all the filthy details, right? Go ahead."

Harry took in a deep breath. The others waited. Suddenly, they noticed that the rest of the room was utterly silent.

"Oh, bloody hell," Zoë whispered.

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin table.

Professor Snape had entered the room.

Harry suspected any observant watcher would see the care that Severus was putting into keeping his walk steady. He moved like a much older man. Hooch, with her keen sense of injuries, pushed her chair back to go help him. At his glare, she remained in her place.

Harry looked over at the Slytherins. Just about all the younger ones were cheering. Among the sixth- and seventh-year students -- and even some of the fifth years -- the reaction was less unambiguously favorable. Pansy Parkinson sagged against Theodore Nott as if on the verge of fainting. Radiana Nott was leaning across her -- brother? Harry wondered. Cousin? -- and touching Pansy's hand. Crabbe had finally looked up from his food, and his brow was furrowing with slow worry.

You made your bed, Harry thought, but he couldn't summon any satisfaction. He couldn't believe any of them had understood what they had been getting into -- not really. He knew more about the Dark Lord than even Draco did -- what could a pampered girl like Parkinson, or a dull beast like Crabbe know?

He wondered if Goyle had accompanied Crabbe into Voldemort's service. He looked down the lines of seated students until he found massive boy, grinning broadly up at his head of house. Goyle might just be missing the implications, but Harry thought it more likely he had complied with Draco's wishes, and had been safely at Hogwarts during his professor's torture.

"So glad I finished my essay."

Seamus's glib comment brought Harry back to the Gryffindor table. He started to pick up his fork, but Seamus grabbed at his arm. "Don't you think you're off the hook, Harry. Spill the beans. Was he -- she? -- good? Did you go all the way?"

Harry drew back. "I'll tell you all about it tonight." Seamus was startled into silence by this apparent capitulation, so Harry pushed on. "I can't tell you now." He pushed away his uneaten breakfast and stood up. "Ron? Hermione? Are you finished? We need to talk, and I don't have much time."

"Oooo," Seamus said. "Such a busy man, our Harry."

"Oh do shut up!" Harry snapped. He stalked off to the sound of mixed laughter.

Hermione caught up with him just outside the Great Hall.

"Thank you."

She gave him a small, nervous smile. "Ron stayed to yell at the others. He'll catch up. You were down in the dungeons?"

"Yeah."

Harry looked nervously about them. "Let's start up the stairs, all right? It doesn't matter as much, now, but I don't like to be so close to corners."

"Corners?"

"Can't see who's listening."

She gave a wry smile and nodded. In silence, they crossed the floor together, and ascended the main staircase. At the first landing, Harry paused, glanced up and down the stairs, and nudged Hermione.

"So ... since we're alone? Could I ask your advice on ... on a personal matter?"

She took a quick breath. "Of course, Harry!" She glanced back towards the Great Hall. "Olivia, I suppose?"

Harry groaned. "Oh hell! I've been trying not to think about that. No, Draco."

Another quick breath. "Oh. Want to tell me why, then?"

" He followed me, last night, just like I said. But he said he wanted to help."

"And did he?"

"Sort of." Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. They had reached the first floor, and it seemed inadvisable to go any further without Ron. He turned and leaned forward on the railing. "But I didn't trust him. I made him ..." He felt his face heat with shame. "So ... the spell."

"Yes, well. I can understand not trusting him." Hermione's face tightened. "But the Fealty Spell? That's medieval! And Dark Arts, of course. How did you learn it, anyway? Why did you? And --" She looked down, then, and Harry saw her throat move in a swallow.

"I know it's Dark Arts. It was also stupid, because once he'd agreed, I probably could have taken the risk."

"Watching him act like that, and you just --"

Harry reached a hand out to her arm. "Please don't scold -- I'll get enough of that later. I understand perfectly well what I did, and I'm not making excuses. I just want ideas on how I'm ever going to get him to forgive me."

Hermione contented herself with one last hard look before settling into considering the matter. "As I understand the Fealty Spell -- not that I'm in the habit of studying Dark Arts, so that's purely from a historical context -- it requires a willing subject for the spell to function -- and it clearly did. So was Malfoy willing? Or is that whole 'willing subject' some sort of aristocratic propaganda?"

"Within the broadest definition of 'willing,' yes, he was. That is, he preferred it to the offered alternatives. But he was furious with me, this morning. I don't think he knew what it would be like. I didn't know what it would be like. I felt like he was my property -- a sort of pet." Harry felt ill. "I treat my pets well, fortunately, but even so...."

Hermione shivered, but she reached over to grasp his hand. "I don't like that at all, Harry."

"Like what? That I'll use Dark Arts? That I'll subject my supposed friends to spells I barely know? That I'd rather control someone than trust him?"

"That last one, I think." She frowned. "I mean, I wouldn't trust Malfoy myself, but you didn't trust me and Ron, either."

"Not my risk, or my decision," Harry argued, but then he sighed. "I don't like it either, looking back, but it's so easy to keep doing." He laughed uneasily. Ron had just emerged from the Great Hall, below them. Harry waved to get his attention. "I suspect I'll have much more trouble getting away with things, now, though, with Remus and McGonagall both able to go to F- to my dad."

Surprise straightened Hermione out of her huddle, but all she said was, "Oh."

"Which might be for the best. So ... ideas?"

"Apologize?"

"I've tried." Harry shrugged. "I'll try again. If you get anything from Shadow...."

She shook her head, but her eyes gleamed. She glanced quickly up and down the stairs, and down the long corridor. No one was near. Casually, she said, "Shadow won't be around much longer. The headmaster thinks he's ready for his new home."

"I don't know. Maybe he's better off staying." Harry dropped his voice to a bare whisper. "Near Pansy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I'm terribly interested in nasty little gossips like Parkinson and her gang."

Harry heard approaching footsteps ascending the stairs. Expected as they were, he nonetheless turned to look. Ron, suddenly confronted with whatever was in Harry's face, stopped abruptly, one foot poised above the next step.

"You all right, mate?"

"Harry?" Hermione was touching his shoulder.

"Cast that shield. The one you did before, Ron -- the dome."

Ron hurried up to join them, hustled them into the relative obscurity of the corridor, and cast. Harry let his eyes close.

"She was there."

"What?"

"With the -- with Voldemort." Harry looked nervously at Hermione. "She did it, I think. Really did it."

"Told on your father herself?" Hermione frowned. "I thought she had sent a letter through Crabbe. Did Voldemort want to question her?"

Harry stared at her incredulously. "No! Well, yes, I -- don't you understand what they were there for? She took the Dark Mark -- didn't you see her face when Sev-- fa-- when her head of house came in? Alive?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "But ... but she's just a ... a stupid little ..." Her mouth worked for a moment, while she considered and discarded epithets. "... lapdog!"

"He likes lapdogs." Harry felt his lip curl with contempt. He tried not to think of soft blond hair beneath his fingers. "And she's not stupid. She worked a lot out by herself; she used it to her advantage -- or so she thought. In a year or two she may be less pleased." He shivered. "Though from her face this morning ... she may already realize she made a bad bargain."

She rubbed her forehead. "Who else?"

Harry glanced nervously at Ron, whose expression suggested was still coming to terms with the image of Parkinson with the Dark Mark on her arm.

"You're saying she's a Death Eater now?" he asked. "That silly, giggling girl? We have a Death Eater in school, and it's Pansy Parkinson?"

"We had Death Eaters in school already, Ron."

"What!?"

Harry winced at Hermione's yelp. He'd forgotten she didn't know. "Last night, when they were summoned -- I felt it. My scar -- sometimes I feel it. At least three seventh-years left -- two Slytherins and one Ravenclaw."

"They were going to join, you think?"

"If they hadn't 'joined,' as you say, already, they wouldn't have felt the summoning. There were others who did join last night -- Parkinson, Crabbe, I saw them there -- but those three were Death Eaters already. Must have been since summer, at least." Harry exhaled sharply. "Voldemort's not as picky as Dumbledore about underage followers -- big surprise, that."

"There are three -- five, I mean -- Death Eaters at Hogwarts? In our classes?"

"There may have been more, but Olivia didn't want me to keep looking."

Hermione snorted. "So you didn't?"

Harry glared back at Hermione's indignation. "She was afraid for someone. I understand that; I'm scary. People get killed around me."

"But, Harry...."

"Olivia was protecting someone she cared about. I understand that -- I have people I protect too! I don't even know if it was someone who had -- it might have been someone she was afraid would. I was afraid Draco would." Harry scowled. "I'm the sort who always looks, though. I kept checking to make sure he hadn't followed them out."

Hermione frowned. "Do you know he wouldn't have?"

Harry pushed his hands into his hair and pulled at it for a moment. "No. That's the awful thing -- it's almost worse than having him so pissed off at me -- now I'll never know." He bit his lip. "I don't think so. He seemed to be following me. He said he'd go back if I did. Actually, he said that after the spell, too, so it must be true. All right. He wouldn't have." He looked away. "Of course ... now I need to worry in case I messed that up."

It was Ron, surprisingly, who shook his head. "You saw how he was wearing his robes, this morning. He looked a right wazzock, but he was showing anyone who cared to look that he didn't do it -- didn't want to do it. He'd rather be suspected of spending the night with you." He looked appraisingly at Harry. "You had a fight?"

"I treated him badly."

Ron made a disgusted face. "Do I want to know?"

"Oh honestly! Ron! You don't believe that crap, do you? There was nothing more to me being -- to Draco following me than to me going walking with you! He was pissed off with me for deserting Olivia! That was all it was!" Harry threw his hands up in the air. "We fought, I hexed him, he helped me, and I rescued my father from Voldemort. End of story. I would have come back to Gryffindor, but Pomfrey thought.... I needed to stay with him -- my dad, I mean."

"And Malfoy?"

"I'd left him in no condition to go back to his dormitory." Harry sighed and rubbed at his forehead. Time to face the music. "I'm supposed to be in Dumbledore's office. Walk with me, all right?"

They walked in silence, Harry grateful for his friends' presence. At the gargoyle, Harry did not give the password immediately. He realized, suddenly, how little thought he had given to what came after the hearing.

"When I get back tonight..." He didn't dare imagine what would happen if Fudge got the guardianship after all. Would he be coming back at all? He plowed on, as if the outcome was certain. "I'd really like to tell the others about everything straight away, before they hear from anyone else. Just Neville, Dean and Seamus, OK?" He looked at Ron, who nodded.

"Just let me know. I'll bring them wherever you like." He hesitated. "Should I tell them anything, or not?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Go ahead and tell them; I trust you. I just want the hearing to be under way, first -- wait until after lunch."

He looked past Ron, at Hermione. "And I'd really like to call a D.A. meeting, before dinner, just so they hear it from me. I expect Dumbledore will want to make some kind of big public announcement about it all tonight."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "All right. I'll call everyone for half an hour before dinner. That should give you time to tell the boys your family news first. But -- well, is it boys only, or could Ginny and I come along?"

Harry grasped her hand. "That's all right. You're family too."

Hermione's cheeks dimpled with the fullness of her smile.