Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 21: Shall We Dance?

Malcolm outlines his Plan

Faith turned on the wireless and set about her ironing. She had magicked the feather duster to dance about the shelves of its own accord, but despite having grown up with magic to an extent - having had an older brother who turned out to be a wizard at an early age, not to mention John as a next door neighbour during her childhood - there were some things she preferred to do herself. She never did think that the iron, left to its own devices, did a neat enough job.

"... Ministry officials so far have not been able to offer a satisfactory explanation for the disappearance ..."

Faith was barely listening to the wireless as she worked. She folded Remus's shirt and bent down to pick up another out of the washing basket.

"... raid today on a known meeting place of a group of supporters of the Dark Lord ..."

Faith picked up the iron and ran it along the left sleeve.

"... witches and wizards had been secured by the Aurors when a large group of the people who call themselves Death Eaters arrived ..."

Faith's hand slowed. The word 'Aurors' had caught her attention.

"... it appears that the fight between the Aurors and the Death Eaters was very brief. The outcome was tragic. The Death Eaters greatly outnumbered the Aurors, and used the unforgivable curses. All the Aurors were killed. The WWN is expecting confirmation of these rumours any moment, along with a list of names of those unfortunate Aurors who ..."

Faith caught her breath. The sleeve she had been ironing began to smoke where she had forgotten to take the iron off it. She did so now, and stared unseeingly at the brown patch on it. More deaths, and this time not just helpless passers-by had been killed, which was horrifying enough, but Aurors - wizards and witches trained specifically to fight the Dark Arts had died quickly, unable to put up a proper fight. And what if - she hardly dared think the thought through - her brother had been there?

At that moment, there was such a sudden loud knock on the front door that it made Faith jump. She neglected her iron and went out into the hall, suddenly fearing ... she didn't know what, exactly. Death Eaters here, in the middle of the moors? A Ministry official in black robes with a sad expression, come to tell her the worst? But when she opened the door, she found it was neither.

"Malcolm!"

She flung her arms around him so suddenly that he staggered back a pace.

"Faith," he said quickly, sounding as though he had just had the wind knocked out of him, "what on earth ..."

"I was just listening to the news," she sobbed on his shoulder while he guided her back into the house with difficulty and shut the door. "For a minute I thought ..."

"Perhaps John's right. It is time you got rid of that wireless, if it's going to make you jump to the worst conclusions every time something bad happens. Mind you, I knew you would. That's why I decided right when I heard that broadcast that I'd better apparate on your doorstep before you panic. Seems I was too late."

"They were talking about Aurors being killed ..."

"Faith," Malcolm said firmly, now extricating himself from her grip and pushing her down on a kitchen chair, "there are loads of Aurors at the Ministry. Only seven of them were killed today. How great does that make the chances that one of them was me?"

"Too high," Faith said with a touch of indignation, now that she was beginning to calm down a little. "You can't blame me for worrying about you. In your profession ..."

"It's not my profession any more."

"What?"

"They sacked me."

Faith stared at him blankly. "Sacked you? But - why?"

"Ironically, because your concern was not justified. Because I wasn't killed."

"Malcolm, dear, you're not making any sense."

"No, I don't suppose I am."

"Are you going to explain it to me?"

Malcolm sighed. "I wonder how many more times I'll have to explain it. I can only hope someone's already told John all about it by the time he gets home, or I'll go mad."

"Have so many people asked you to explain already, then?"

"No," Malcolm admitted fairly, "only Bridget."

"Bridget?" Faith exclaimed curiously.

But Malcolm was not inclined to go any further into what had occurred at lunch time. He did, however, sit down and give her the gist of what had really happened. Somehow, though, he did not feel as comforted by Faith's indignation on his part as he might have been. Instead, while she was declaring heatedly that Crouch had had no right to fire him for what was evidently not his fault, he found his mind going back to the café where he had sat that lunch time, to the way Bridget had held her cup when she sipped her coffee, to the feel of her hand when he had shaken it ...

"Malcolm?" Faith prompted, looking worried.

Evidently, she must have said something to him that he had not heard.

"Yes?"

"I asked you whether you'd pointed out to him that this isn't the best time to fire staff he needs. You came top in Defence Against the Dark Arts at school, you were the champion of the duelling class, you passed your Auror examination with top marks, you ..."

"He knows all that."

"Then how can he even think of firing you with You-Know-Who getting stronger and people being murdered every day? Surely the Ministry needs every Auror it can get. How can he fire the best he has?"

"Probably because he knows he can afford to."

"But he can't!"

"He knows I'll still be in this fight, with him behind me or without," Malcolm murmured quietly, more to himself than to her.

"What do you mean?" asked Faith suspiciously. "Malcolm, what are you talking about? How can you still be in it, if you're no longer an Auror?"

Malcolm looked at her across the table. Very briefly, he considered doing John's job for him, telling Faith all about the Order of the Phoenix and his latest plans. But he decided against it and merely shrugged.

"I'll find a way, I expect."

"Malcolm, be careful," Faith begged.

He smiled. "Don't worry, I will."

Severus was in what he called his 'laboratory'. This was a room that gave onto the back garden - or would have done, had the windows not been so totally overgrown with ivy that it was hard to see even a solitary patch of grass - and had once been used as a large storage cupboard. He remembered his mother suggesting once that it could be brightened up a little, the windows cleared, the walls redecorated, the carpet ripped up and replaced, so that they could have a kind of games room here - with a snooker table, perhaps, a wizard's chess set on a table in the corner, a small house bar ... But Augustus had disapproved of the plan.

Later, when Severus had gone to Hogwarts and it had become apparent that he was unusually adept at potion-making and liked to experiment with making very complex potions, not to mention developing some of his own, he had gone to his mother and asked her whether he could not have this room to work in while he was at home. He did not know what she had done to persuade his father - he suspected that there had been much pleading and crying involved - but his request had been granted, and this had since become his refuge when the quarrelling became too much and he sought a bit of peace and quiet.

The laboratory was quite separate from the rest of the house. You had to walk right down the end of the hall, go through a door, along a short, windowless passage and through another door, which Severus always locked, to get to it. The laboratory had not been redecorated, but that quite suited him, really. Its walls were of grey stone, its carpet had once been red but was now blackened and threadbare, but what did it matter? The main thing was that he had an excellent selection of ingredients in glass jars on shelves all around the walls, a large, spotlessly clean table to prepare them on, and several cauldrons of various sizes and materials.

He was poring now over one of the many ancient books he possessed, one that had large, thick pages and illustrations of wizards with grotesquely contorted faces, wizards whose bodies had partially decayed though they were still alive ... and wizards who no longer looked like wizards at all, their faces stretched, pale and rubbery, their eyes like slits, their nostrils flat, holding large, steaming goblets in their hands.

"Put a stopper in death," read Severus, perusing the page. "Drain the blood of a half-dozen house elves and mix with freshly extracted snake venom. Add a grain of powdered unicorn horn and two leaves of monkshood ... What?!" he exclaimed in annoyance when he heard a sharp rap on the clouded window.

He looked up. A shadow was perched on the window sill, beating repeatedly against the glass. Severus went over to the garden door, turned the key and - surprised that it actually worked, considering it had not been used for years - stepped out into the slowly failing sunlight. An eagle owl left the window and swooped towards him, dropped a roll of parchment at his feet, beat its wings and circled high into the sky before soaring away. Severus bent down and picked up the note. He unfolded it on his way back in, and subconsciously took a hurried glance around him before permitting himself to smile.

"Dear Sev," the letter went. "I just wanted to say that I thought last night was the perfect dream, didn't you? Well, I know you did, so no need to answer that. What do you reckon, same place Saturday night, or would you rather we went somewhere else? Think about it and let me know - I'm willing to be surprised. See you soon. Ever yours, Josie."

Severus tucked the letter in the pocket of his robes and returned to his book. But he could no longer concentrate properly. Odd, the effect that girl had on him. It was like nothing else mattered any more, like potion-making and studying were a waste of time, like even serving the Dark Lord was unimportant compared to being with her. Beside Josephine, everything else looked pale and incomplete, every other person was just a waxwork, a stiff work of art to study and admire, but not really alive, not really tangible, not really beautiful. There was so much more life in her than in anyone else he had ever met, so much more warmth than he had ever known, that the rest of the world just ceased to exist.

"You will require the life force of an adult witch or wizard," he forced himself to read.

Josephine ... where would he take her on Saturday? The same place as last night? It had been nice there, certainly. But he thought he would like somewhere else for a change, somewhere more magical. Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks? No, that didn't have the right kind of atmosphere. He thought of a place he had heard of once, a wizard night club somewhere in London ... The Bouncing Banshee. He had never been there himself, but from what he had heard, it should be just the kind of place Josephine would like.

It became clear when John and Remus got home that they had both heard about what had happened that morning. John seemed as surprised as Faith that his brother-in-law was taking it so well. After dinner, Remus helped his mother clear the table while John and Malcolm went outside into the garden. For a while neither of them said anything at all. Then John asked,

"Are you very angry with Crouch?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Not now. I was. I was angry with him and with myself, because I felt responsible."

"But it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it."

"That's what Bridget said," Malcolm remembered with a smile.

"Bridget?" John's tone was curious. "You've spoken to her about it?"

"Oh, I bumped into her when I was taking a walk," Malcolm said casually. Then he laughed. "You know, she actually reckons I saved a life - by calling Laura away from the others."

"Laura?"

"Yes. You remember - Laura Lovegood. Her father once brought out some new kind of wizarding magazine. Had all kinds of odd theories in it. It all went wrong, mind you. No one wanted it. He said the wizarding world wasn't ready for it yet, and it would run fine in a few years or so. I think Laura's brother's expected to take over the project some day. He's the intellectual type, as far as I remember. You know: stuffed shirt, top of the class, prefect, head boy and all that."

John smiled. "Like me, you mean?"

A grin flitted across Malcolm's face. "No, not quite like you, I imagine."

"I do remember the girl," John said, musing. "You used to have a bit of a soft spot for her, I think."

"Give over, John, she's just a kid! Must be no more than Pippa Pettigrew's age."

"Pippa Pettigrew's no kid. But then, nor is Bridget."

Malcolm looked up sharply, but John became deeply fascinated by an imaginary speck of dust on his sleeve at that moment. It was a while before he asked,

"What will you do now?"

"What I've been planning all along, really. Craigg at the Better Days has finally found me a contact whose help will enable me to get the Order the inside information we want. She'll get me right where I need to be to supply that information. In with the Death Eaters."

John's face darkened. "You? I thought you wanted to find someone who's already in the enemy's inner circle."

"How would we know we can really trust them? No, this is by far the safer way."

"Safer?! Good God, Malcolm, you can't be serious! You could be found out, the whole plan could be a trap ..."

"Designed just to capture me? I don't think so. I'm not that important. Anyway, the woman seems genuine enough. Hard-boiled, calculating, but not the double-agent type."

"I would have said that about you a couple of minutes ago. And what if she's under the Imperius curse? She may not even know what she's doing."

"I know, but I have a hunch she was telling the truth. If not, she could have killed Craigg and me on the spot, there would be no need for such an elaborate plan."

"Unless that's what she wanted you to think," Remus spoke suddenly from the door. "The Death Eaters could be planning to use you to send us false information, only make you think what you're telling us is true."

"John, did you have to bring your son up to be just as pessimistic as you are?" Malcolm complained.

"Oh, I think I've got quite a bit of you in me too," Remus said with a slow smile.

"But luckily you show more sense than your godfather," John put in.

"There is no sense in this - this war, John! I know the risks I'm taking, but if I can help save some lives ..."

"Every time you do, you'll be one step closer to being discovered. The Death Eaters are bound to get suspicious if their plans start going wrong."

"I know. But it's only my own life I'm risking."

"No, it's not," Remus objected quietly. "If you're found out, they may find a way to get information out of you about us."

Malcolm shook his head with decision. "They won't. I'd die sooner than tell them anything, as you both know. I'd kill myself before I gave away the Order. Like I said, the only life that's at stake here is my own."

"But no life is totally individual," said John. "Everything we do, everything that happens to us, affects other people, people who care about us. You may only be risking your own life, but you're risking other people's happiness."

"We all have our sacrifices to make."

"That may be so. But I don't want to sacrifice you."

"Dad, I think you'd better come inside," Remus suggested. "Mum's put the kettle on, and she'll be wondering what's keeping you."

At the Bouncing Banshee

It was Saturday evening. Severus had donned black dress robes and was sleeking back his hair when his mother appeared in the doorway. She stood watching him with a smile as his face creased into a frown while he studied his reflection.

"You look nice again," she said. "Where are you going?"

"The Bouncing Banshee. I'm meeting Josephine off the Knight Bus at seven."

"I see. Well, I hope you have a nice time, dear. And you can tell Josephine we're dying to meet her, and ask whether she'd like to come for dinner one evening."

Severus frowned even more deeply.

"You really don't want us to meet her, do you? Why?"

"Perhaps I just don't want her to meet you," he retorted through his teeth. His mother looked hurt, but she nodded.

"Yes, in a way I could see that. But she'll have to meet us eventually, won't she?"

Severus felt a pleasurable tremor at the word 'eventually' and what it implied. His mother was right, of course, he would have to introduce them to Josephine ... one day.

"I suppose so," he said. "I have to go now, mother, or I'll be late."

"Is this it?" James queried, looking up at a run down block of flats with paint peeling off the walls, rows of smudged and broken windows and only half a door number on the wall.

"Yes," Sirius confirmed with the air of someone giving his friends a rare treat.

Only Peter looked excited.

"Oh yes, I've heard about this place from Pippa. She says it's not much on the outside ..."

"You can say that again," said Remus with a grin at James.

"... but it's really good once you're in. Pippa told me about it. She came as soon as she was old enough - they don't let you in until you're fifteen."

"And you never mentioned the place?" Sirius complained, looking devastated. "I've only just heard about it, from Gideon, but it sounded great. If I'd known it existed before, I'd have been here ages ago." He shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, Wormtail, you have no imagination, do you?"

"So, shall we go in?" James suggested.

Lily, looking a little confused as to why Sirius was calling Peter 'Wormtail', held James's hand more tightly and nodded. "Let's."

They entered a derelict hallway and Sirius marched straight up to a very old lift. The doors opened with an ominous clunk when he pressed the button, and he stood aside to let everyone in. The lift cabin, apart from being grubby and filled with an unpleasant odour, looked quite ordinary. Sirius examined the row of buttons and began pressing them in sequence. Three, two, six, two, three.

"Six?" Remus said. "This building hasn't got six floors, has it?"

Sirius shrugged. The lift gave a jolt and began to move - not upwards, but down into the ground, rather like the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Moments later, the lift came to a halt. The doors opened, and suddenly everything had changed. This was no longer the inside of a tumbledown building. They were in a kind of stone courtyard with ivy all around the walls and tall trees that seemed to hold up the ceiling, all flickering with fairy lights. An eerie sound reached their ears, like the whistling of the wind in the leaves, but accompanied by a very faint humming.

Sirius strode ahead of the others across the courtyard to a heavy wooden door and tapped it with his wand. A high-pitched wail rang out that froze their blood, and moments later the door swung back on its hinges.

"Yes?" croaked a voice from below.

Sirius looked down at the ugly, misshapen head of a goblin, short even by the usual standards of his species, who was staring fixedly at the place where the young wizard's knees were.

"Hello," said Sirius lightly. "This the Bouncing Banshee?"

"No, my name is not Bobbin Bramley," the goblin retorted angrily. "It's ..."

"All right, all right. No need to shout," Sirius interrupted. "I don't want to know your name, I'm here to have a good time and party."

"Some lime? Do I look like a greengrocer?" said the goblin.

Sirius was looking puzzled now. "Lime? I didn't say anything about lime ..."

Remus cleared his throat and pushed past Sirius.

"I think he's deaf," he whispered in his friend's ear.

He crouched down in front of the goblin, who stared right through him, though their faces were now level.

"Excuse me," he said loudly. "My name is Remus Lupin. My friends and I are here to visit the Bouncing Banshee."

To everyone's surprise, the goblin stood aside at once and bowed so low that his nose touched the turned-up toes of his velvet slippers.

"Welcome, sir. Have a pleasant evening."

"Thank you," said Remus, smiling.

They all walked through the door, and Sirius hissed,

"I think he's blind as well. How can he tell whether the guests are old enough?"

"Easy," said Lily, pointing. "An age line."

Sure enough, at the other end of the short passage a notice had been put up.

NO PERSONS BELOW THE AGE OF FIFTEEN ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT.

A group of younger wizards who had evidently paid no heed to this warning were sitting on the floor, rubbing their heads, but grinning.

"Oh, hello McAlistair, Dibbons," Sirius exclaimed as he passed two of them. "Tried to get across the age line, did you?"

"Yup. It chucked us right back out again."

"That's nothing to what old Dolesham's going to do to you when she finds you out of bed."

"Huh, we're not scared of her," said one of the boys. "She's become quite tame lately. I think she thinks none of our antics can be as bad as yours were when you were our age."

"Watch it, boys, you make it sound like I'm ancient!" Sirius laughed, stepping across the age line. "Though age can be an advantage," he added. "See you!"

They walked on through a curtain of beads, and suddenly the volume level rose exponentially. Sirius laughed as they all covered their ears and walked into a vast cave that was ablaze with coloured lights. Right in the centre was a huge dance floor that was packed with witches, wizards and a good few hags. A band was playing on a stage at the opposite end, using instruments of most bizarre shapes and sizes, all grouped around a moving statue of a banshee that was bouncing up and down in time with the music and emitting loud wails every now and then. There were tables all around the dance floor where people sat laughing and talking, holding multicoloured cocktails, steaming goblets and pipes that gave out coloured smoke.

Sirius led the way to an empty table in a niche which he somehow managed to spot through the crowd. A torch on the wall cast a flickering turquoise light on the high-backed leather seats. Lily, Remus and Peter sat down while Sirius and James offered to go and get drinks from the bar.

They all sat sipping their drinks and watching the dance floor.

Peter cried out suddenly, pointing. "There's Daniel with Florence! And there are Frank and Damian, and Mary!"

"Yes," Sirius called back over the noise. "I asked them to join us. Hi," he added, as the others reached their table and everyone squeezed up a bit to make more room.

"Wow," breathed Mary, sliding onto the seat beside Sirius. "This is amazing."

He grinned. "Want to dance?"

"Oooh, yes."

Sirius and Mary got up and pushed their way through the crowd. Lily leaned forward to whisper in James's ear, and they followed the other two.

"Hello," Frank said, sliding further along the bench to sit next to Remus. "How are things?"

"All right," Remus replied, sipping his butterbeer.

"What about Malcolm? How's he coping?"

"Quite well, actually. Except that he's got some pretty dangerous ideas in his head. He's got Dad really worried."

"What ideas?"

Remus told Frank in as much of a whisper as was possible considering the overall volume what he had overheard his father and uncle discussing. Frank whistled.

"That sounds dodgy. No wonder your dad's worried. Mind you, I'm not saying Malcolm isn't right. It's about time we managed to put a stop to these surprise attacks, and what he's planning might give us just the help we need."

"Unless he gets himself killed," Remus pointed out, looking every bit as worried as his father.

Frank patted him on the shoulder consolingly. "I know. But Malcolm's clever. If he thinks they're getting on to him - and I'm sure he'd notice if they were - he'll get out, won't he?"

"I hope so."

Remus looked around the club to take his mind off his concerns.

"Popular place, this," Frank commented.

"Yes."

"Oh look," Frank went on eagerly. "Over there, isn't that ..."

"Where?" Remus asked, trying to follow Frank's eyes.

At last he found the spot that Frank was staring at, and recognised the girl. It was Aurora, standing alone by the doorway and looking around her.

"Isn't anyone with her?" Frank asked.

"Doesn't look like it. I'll go and ask her, shall I?"

Frank nodded.

Remus put down his mug and got up. It was a squeeze to get around the dance floor without being knocked over, but he made it and came up behind Aurora.

"Hello."

She jumped, turned around, and smiled broadly. "Hi."

"Did you come here all on your own?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you'd like to be alone or can I persuade you to join us?" Remus asked, indicating their table.

"I was hoping you'd ask that. Actually, I went to see you at home to ask if you'd like to come out for some dinner, and your mother told me you were here. I thought I'd come too and see if you'd offer me a seat at all."

"That was a good idea of yours. Come on."

Remus led her back through the crowds and they sat down. Aurora turned her head to watch the dancers.

"Is that Mary Crimple down there with Sirius?" she asked.

Remus nodded. "I think he arranged to meet her here yesterday."

"He's still up to his old tricks, then."

Remus shot her a sympathetic look, but Aurora shook her head. "It's okay, Remus, really. I don't mind any more." She paused and looked at him sideways, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Remus - will you dance with me?"

He looked startled. "Me? But I don't dance. I never have."

"Oh, please, Remus," she begged, fluttering her eyelids at him.

Remus sighed, and reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged onto the dance floor.

Mary Crimple laughed when Sirius kissed her amid the crowd. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, then she said,

"Let's get another drink, Sirius."

Hand in hand, they made their way to the bar. A couple brushed past them as they were leaving the dance floor and Sirius, his eyes wide, stared after them.

"Snape?!" he exclaimed. "Well I never."

They got their drinks and hurried back to the table. Lily and James were back, and Peter, Damian and Frank were still there too.

"Guess who we just saw!" Sirius said excitedly. "Severus Snape!"

"Here?" said James.

"Down there, on the dance floor - with a girl!"

"No way!" Damian craned his neck to see.

"Well, it was bound to happen some day," Lily pointed out sensibly. "I mean, just because we don't like him, that doesn't mean there aren't some girls who like that type."

Sirius stared at her in disbelief. "Lily, this is Severus Snape we're talking about! No one likes Severus Snape."

"I bet his mother does," Lily retorted.

"Yes, well, he's not dancing with his mother, is he?"

"Who is he dancing with?" asked James.

Sirius turned around to look again. "No idea who she is. Not from Hogwarts, anyway. I'd know if she was."

"I'm sure you would," said Lily. "You know all the girls at Hogwarts, don't you?"

Mary's face flushed, and Sirius shot a scowl at Lily. "She doesn't look old Severus's type, anyway. I'm going to see what I can find out ..."

He rose. Mary protested weakly, but there was no holding him. He found a way back down to the dance floor, where the girl was now standing on her own.

"Hi," said Sirius with his most charming smile in place.

"Hello," she replied, looking up at him from under her painted eyelids.

"I'm Sirius. Sirius Black."

He shook her hand.

"Josie Coronis."

"A pleasure. So. You're here with Severus Snape, are you?"

"Yes. You know him?"

"We were at school together," said Sirius with the air of someone describing a lifelong friendship.

"Oh, that's nice."

"No, it wasn't actually," Sirius went on confidentially. "We loathed the sight of each other, to tell you the truth. I even tried to kill him once - didn't work though, obviously."

Josie giggled, thinking it was a joke.

"I'm quite sure you tried nothing of the sort."

"He did, actually," said a cold voice beside them. It was Snape, returning with drinks.

"Oh, hello, Sevvie," Josie cried. "Look who's here. You're old school mate, Sirius."

The two boys stared daggers at one another. Then Sirius held out his hand, forcing a smile.

"Hello, Sevvie," he said. "I was just about to ask Josie here to dance with me, if you don't mind."

Snape looked like he would rather rip Sirius to pieces where he stood, but Josie agreed at once, so that he had to force a very pained smile on his face.

"Of course not, Black."

"Great," Sirius grinned and twirled away with Josie.

As soon as that particular dance had stopped, however, Snape was back beside them.

"Not yet, Severus," Sirius complained as the band struck up a slower tune. "This is one of my favourites."

A short distance away, Remus was still dancing with Aurora. She had been talking animatedly all the time, but now she suddenly stopped, looking anxious.

"Oh Remus, look," she murmured, inclining her head.

Remus turned around and saw Sirius, Severus Snape and a girl he had never seen before. Snape's face was livid. He had put down the drinks and balled his hands into fists. Remus and Aurora pushed past the other dancers towards them.

"I really don't see what you've got against my dancing with Jo for a bit," Sirius was saying. "I won't mind if you want to dance with Mary."

"All I want," Snape hissed back, "is for you to go back to the hole you crawled out of and stay there."

"Language, Severus! Don't shock the girl. You've only just persuaded her you're not such a fright as you look, you don't want to go correcting that impression."

"You ..." Snape snarled, raising a fist.

"Stop it, both of you!" Josie cried.

"Don't worry, Jo," Sirius said loudly. "He won't really attack me, he's too much of a cowa..."

"Sirius, that's enough!" Remus interrupted brusquely. "Come on, now, we didn't come here to fight."

"I'm not fighting."

"You're asking for it, though," said Aurora, her eyes ablaze.

Sirius turned to look at her. "I don't know what that's got to do with you."

Aurora's cheeks flushed hotly. Remus stepped between them.

"Sirius, don't be an idiot," he said quietly. "Stop it, now. Come back to the table and calm down. You're totally overreacting."

"Don't patronise me, Remus, I'm not a child."

"You're acting like one."

Sirius took an angry step towards Remus now.

"You had better listen to him," Severus Snape said menacingly through gritted teeth. "Be sensible, Black, and go with your half-breed friend."

Sirius gave a roar of fury and launched himself at Snape. Remus and Aurora both lunged for his arms, and from out of nowhere, James joined them. Together they managed to pull the two young wizards apart, and James spoke firmly to Sirius.

"I don't know what's got into you, Sirius, but I suggest you pack it in now and apologise."

"Apologise? To him?" Sirius spat.

"Forget it, Potter," Snape snarled. "I'm not accepting any apologies from any of you lot."

Sirius stared furiously at him. Then he faced Josie.

"I hope you'll accept my apology. I'm sorry if your evening out has been spoilt by this, but if you'll take my advice, I suggest you find someone better to go out with next time. "

With that, he shook off James and Remus and marched back to their table.

"What on earth has got into you?" James demanded when they were sitting down again. "I know none of us can stand Snape, but did you have to provoke him like that?"

But Sirius was barely listening. His eyes were fixed on Snape and Josie, who were making their way to the exit.

"That girl," he murmured, unaware that Mary Crimple was staring at him resentfully.

"What about her?" James asked. "You only asked her to dance to annoy Snape, you wouldn't have looked twice at her otherwise, would you?"

"Probably not," Sirius confessed. "But there's something about her."

"Oh S-sirius, you're not going to try and pinch S-snape's girlfriend!" Peter cried worriedly.

"No. I just think she needs to be warned what he's like. I don't think she realises, and I don't know why, but somehow I'm sure she's in danger because of it."

James looked across at the girl by the door with added interest.

"Did she tell you anything about herself?"

"No, and somehow I found that odd. She seems the type to talk a lot, but she hardly said a word."

Surprise Visits

It was the following Monday. Bridget flicked a duster over a heavy book and replaced it on its shelf. She ticked it off on her list, picked up the next one, and began dusting that, also. In the store room at the back of the shop, she could hear her boss, Mrs. Shaw, humming to herself. What bliss it must be to be able to go about your business like Mrs. Shaw did, oblivious to the threat of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, thanks to the Ministry's continued and largely successful efforts in keeping the Muggle population ignorant of what was going on, of the real reason behind the increased number of 'accidents' that had been happening.

She put the dusted book on the shelf and again used her pencil to tick it off the list, then she stuck the pencil back behind her ear and continued. She barely looked up when the little brass bell above the door rang, merely muttered a polite "Good morning" and allowed Mrs. Shaw to take over, as she invariably did when she was in the shop herself. Today was no exception. Squeezing her full body through the narrow store room door and smoothing the folds of her long-outdated tweed skirt, Mrs. Shaw straightened her pince nez with a thick, stubby forefinger and marched merrily up to her potential customer.

"Good afternoon, sir. Is there anything particular I can help you with, or will you just be browsing?"

"No, I did come for something particular."

The voice made Bridget look up at once. She stared in surprise. Malcolm grinned at her.

"And I've already found it," he told Mrs. Shaw, who was now clearly agog with curiosity. "Excuse me."

Mrs. Shaw bustled into the background, while Malcolm came over to the counter.

"Hello, Bridget."

"Malcolm - what are you doing here?"

"Is that your way of saying 'What a lovely surprise'?"

Bridget smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm all right," he assured her. "I called on Laura yesterday and we sort of talked it all over again. She's still pretty rattled, but I think we're both a bit closer to getting over last week."

"I'm glad. You know if there's anything I can do ..."

"Actually, that's what I came for, in a way."

Bridget raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It occurred to me that I need to get out and do things, take my mind off it all. I thought you might like to help me."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"Absolutely. I'd like to do something different for a change. You know, when you've lived in a place so long, you forget to really look at it. You take it for granted. I think what happened last week has shaken me up a bit. I don't want to take things for granted any more. I want to see them properly. I thought we could take one of those tour buses and see the sights, maybe go on a riverboat. What do you think?"

"It sounds like fun, but I'm afraid I can't. I have to work for another two hours."

"What she means is," Mrs. Shaw butted in, heaving herself over to the counter and whipping the duster from Bridget's hand, "that she'd be delighted to come with you right away. Run along and get your cardigan, dear. I'll brook no refusal."

Bridget thanked Mrs. Shaw in pleasured surprise and did as she was told.

"You be nice to her now, young man," Mrs. Shaw said to Malcolm while they were alone, poking his chest with her finger. "She's had a tough life, that one. Not that she's told me anything about it, but one recognises the signs. She needs to have someone take care of her."

"I promise you I won't let her fall into the Thames," Malcolm whispered confidentially.

Mrs. Shaw gave a hearty laugh. Bridget looked questioningly at them both as she returned with a thin cardigan over her arm, but Mrs. Shaw was thoroughly enjoying their little secret, and Malcolm merely grinned again.

"We won't be needing that," he said, removing the pencil from behind Bridget's ear and placing it on the counter.

"Albus!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, bursting into the headmaster's office most unceremoniously while waving a scrap of parchment in her hand. "I just received your note. Is it true what it says? That Malcolm Marley intends to ... that ..." She seemed at a loss for words.

"Good afternoon, professor," Professor Dumbledore replied calmly. "Do join us, won't you?"

He conjured up a second chair opposite his desk. Professor McGonagall stared at it blankly, glanced quickly from Pippa Pettigrew, who was sitting in the other chair, to Hagrid, leaning against a bookshelf, and faced Dumbledore again.

"Is it true?" she repeated.

"Yes, Minerva. It is true."

This time, Professor McGonagall did sit down, but with a heavy, exasperated sigh.

"I knew it. The fool!"

"Right y'are, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid agreed with her at once.

"That he is most decidedly not," Dumbledore corrected them both. "His plan evidences both courage and vision."

"It is a terrible risk, though," Pippa said quietly, apparently continuing a conversation she, Hagrid and the headmaster had been having before McGonagall arrived. "It's not going to be easy to pull the wool over the Death Eaters' eyes, not even by using polyjuice potion to look exactly like one of them. One false comment and it could all be over."

"The danger is great," Dumbledore admitted. "But the stakes are high."

"You're not saying you approve of this plan, surely?"

"If I could see another way, Minerva, I most certainly would not approve. But I confess I don't. If you do, then please tell me and I will do my best to stop this action."

"We can go on like we always 'ave," Hagrid suggested. "We don' really need this information that much, we've done all righ' so far."

"But we haven't," Pippa contradicted him gently. "Much as I hate to admit it, I agree that an inside man is just what we do need to prevent more occurrences like that of last week. Surprise attacks will be that much easier to counteract if we know when they're planned."

"It won't work, he'll get himself killed!" McGonagall exclaimed.

"I hope you're wrong," said Pippa. "I really do."

"So do I," Dumbledore agreed. "But in any case, nothing has been decided yet. I have told Malcolm that I fully agree with the point that he tells me Remus has made, namely that his capture could easily endanger the entire mission. I will therefore not sanction his plan until the Order has voted on it and unless the majority is in favour. I have sent notes to that effect to all the members of the Order - except Bridget, since Malcolm said he would be seeing her today and would tell her himself."

"But professor - ye know what Malcolm's like, once he's set his mind on it, there ain't nothing but a direct order from you can stop 'im doing this. Even if the Order decides against it, I wouldn't put it past him to go anyway."

Professor McGonagall, too, still looked deeply distressed.

"I'm tired of wars, Albus. This one is hardly any different to those that have gone before. The best and the bravest go out to fight - and don't come back."

"Some do, Minerva, some do. We can only hope that this war will be over soon, and that it will not claim too many more sacrifices before it is ended."

It was past closing time at the Ministry of Magic. Remus sat behind his desk, looking at the animal in the small cage in front of him. It was a rat, though a very unusual specimen. It was tiny, but its ears were abnormally large, its fur black as the night and its eyes seemed to be watching him much more intelligently than an ordinary rat's. Remus had wondered at first if it might be an Animagus, but none of the spells he had tried to force it to reveal itself as such had worked. It was, evidently, simply an animal - just a very unusual one. He tried again to tempt it with some food which he held through the bars, but again it merely attempted to bite off his finger, so that the had to withdraw his hand quickly. At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he called.

It was Aurora. She slipped through the door and closed it behind her, clearly pleased with the effect of her sudden appearance, as Remus looked pleasantly surprised.

"Hello, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you in the backmost corner of the Ministry of Magic?"

"To nothing in particular, really," said Aurora. "I just thought I'd pop in and see how you were doing. There was a watchwizard just about to lock up the visitor's entrance, and he was kind enough to let me in when I told him I was on a rescue mission."

"Rescue?"

She nodded. "Rescuing you from working overtime again and not getting a good, square meal."

"I get a good, square meal every evening. My mother sees to that, whether I like it or not."

"Yes, well, I've decided to give her the night off," Aurora announced. "You're having dinner with me today. There's a lovely little restaurant just around the corner from my flat, I thought we could go there. I'm fed up with eating sandwiches on my own every evening."

Remus smiled. "Your mother doesn't make sure you get a good, square meal then," he said.

Then he wished he hadn't. Aurora looked suddenly upset.

"I don't have a mother," she said.

"I'm sorry."

She waved aside his apology. "It's all right. You weren't to know. I don't generally talk about my parents. Lily knows what ... what happened, of course. But other than that, I haven't told anyone."

She fell silent. Remus decided not to press her. If she wanted to tell him, she would. But Aurora did not go on. Instead, after a while she looked down at the cage on his desk.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Some kind of rat," he replied casually, accepting the fact that she was looking for a change of subject. "A wizard dropped it off here this morning. Seems he'd found it in his kitchen. He thought it looked like a pet, but it won't let anyone get near it. It keeps trying to bite off my fingers if I try to feed it."

Aurora approached the desk curiously and bent over so that she could look straight at the rat. Its eyes peered back at her. She stretched out her hand towards the cage.

"Be careful," Remus warned her anxiously.

But she continued to move her hand nearer. The rat's eyes watched her fingers closely as they neared the clasp that locked the cage. Remus's eyes were fixed on the creature's sharp teeth. Aurora opened the cage and passed her hand inside it.

"Aurora, don't," Remus begged.

"It's all right," she said. "He's not going to bite me."

She was right. Her hand closed gently around the rat and she brought it out into the open.

"Give me something for him," Aurora whispered, holding out her hand.

Remus passed her a piece of cheese. She held it towards the rat. It sniffed the cheese, and then began to nibble it peacefully.

"That's amazing," Remus said under his breath.

"Not really. I managed to see what was in his mind. His former owners treated him badly, and he's afraid of humans. I was able to tell him I wanted to help him," she added, stroking the rat while it finished eating its cheese. "Here, stroke him, Remus."

Remus moved his hand slowly towards the rat. Its head whipped round and its sharp teeth missed his fingers by inches. Aurora raised the rat to her face.

"Bad boy," she told it. "You mustn't do that. This is Remus, he's my friend, and he won't hurt you, so you mustn't hurt him, do you hear?"

She held the rat out to Remus again. He felt rather hesitant, but reached out again, and this time the rat didn't try to bite him.

"I think you should be working here, not me," he said to Aurora.

She smiled, stroked the rat again and replaced it in its cage.

"There. Be a good boy, now. Remus will look after you."

The rat gave a squeak and curled up in the corner of the cage.

"Are we going, then?" Aurora said to Remus.

"All right," he said, and went to get his coat.

Bridget leaned against the railing and stared up at the imposing Tower Bridge, brightly lit against the black night sky. A breeze blew a few curls across her face and cooled her cheeks, still pink from the warmth of the restaurant and the wine.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she sighed, admiring the bridge's reflection in the water.

"Exquisite," Malcolm agreed.

Bridget felt that he was not looking at the bridge at all. His eyes were watching her. She gave a shiver.

"You're cold," Malcolm said, stepping towards her. "Here, take my jacket." He pulled it off, but paused in mid-action. "Bridget, what's the matter?"

She was staring at the coat in his hands, a queer, frozen look on her face.

"Bridget?" he repeated softly.

She looked up hesitantly into his anxious brown eyes. There it was again, that something she had seen before, that day when they had parted outside the book shop. Something that, despite all her fears, made her want to trust him. Nevertheless, she turned away from him before answering.

"I remember coming here once, long ago, with Vindictus, before we were married. When I still believed he was the man of my dreams. He told me he loved me on this very spot. And I fell for his lies. He desired me, and he desired the power he thought marrying into my family would bring him. He never loved me, but I fell for his charm. I was such a fool."

"You weren't," Malcolm protested. "You were young and inexperienced, that's all. We all make mistakes at that age."

"But most of us don't end up paying for them for the rest of our lives."

"Has your life really turned out that badly?" he asked sadly. "Hasn't some good come of it all, in the end? Would you really want to be without the friends you have now, if it meant you had never made that one mistake?"

"I might still have met them all anyway, through Dumbledore and my father."

"But would it have been the same?"

Bridget pondered this. "No," she confessed slowly, "probably not. I would never have become as close to Faith, for instance, as I am if we had not understood each other so well from the outset. From the beginning, we have sensed each other's isolation and it has brought us closer together. It made me take to her from the start. Her and John." She smiled softly. "The only man since my marriage whom I was at once able to trust and love when I met him."

Malcolm felt a pang of hurt. "Love?" he repeated with an effort.

"Not in the sense you're probably thinking," she said quickly. "But he was so completely generous from the start, so kind to me always ... And I knew at once that I was safe with him, because his heart so wholly belongs to Faith that I was never in any danger of his demanding anything from me other than ordinary friendship."

"Is that the only kind of love you can let into your life now?" asked Malcolm quietly.

"Possibly. I don't know that I could ever trust any man again enough to give my heart away to him. I mistrust charm and kindness, because I'm always afraid they might be false."

Malcolm felt himself tremble horribly, startled at the sudden force of his own feelings, feelings he had not known he possessed until a week ago. But it was clear that now was not the time to tell Bridget what he was going through. Friendship was clearly all she wanted and needed, the safety of someone to turn to in times of trouble, who would demand nothing from her in return. Well, if that was all it could be, then let it be so. He would give her all his love and devotion, and ask nothing in return.

As though in slow-motion, he lifted the jacket and placed it gently about her shoulders.

"Thank you," said Bridget, facing him with a smile.

"Shall we take a walk?" Malcolm suggested, forcing his voice to stay casual.

"Oh yes. It's been such a lovely day, Malcolm," she said honestly. "I'm glad you came round."

*Glad. But not glad enough,* he thought. Out loud he said, "So am I."

The Decision is Made

John looked around the Order's usual meeting room at Gryffindor Hall. There were more people packed into it than usual, as more members had found time to attend the meeting this time. He had seen some of them before, but others were totally unknown to him. There was Dorcas Meadowes, an elderly witch who was nearing retirement from her post at the Ministry. A wizard he had not met before called Caradoc Dearborn, dressed in scarlet robes, another man wearing a most peculiar hat. Edgar Bones, whom John knew only from sight. A couple of the usuals - Mundungus Fletcher chatting to James and Sirius, Dedalus Diggle, Alastor Moody - and a younger wizard by the name of Podmore. John was pretty sure he had seen him before, too. But one person was very conspicuously absent. John turned to Malcolm, who for once had turned up on time.

"Where's Bridget?" he asked. "Isn't she coming?"

"I would be very much surprised if she did," Malcolm replied.

"She's not missed a meeting since she joined up, why would she miss this one?"

Malcolm looked guilty.

"Because she doesn't know about it."

"What?"

"I was supposed to tell her myself on Monday. I told Dumbledore I would. But I couldn't."

"What do you mean, you couldn't?"

"I - felt something on Monday," Malcolm said in a whisper to stop anyone else from hearing, "something that - well - has turned my world upside down, if you must know. Something I almost wish I'd never experienced. But I wouldn't want to be without it, either."

"You're not making any sense," John complained, shaking his head.

Malcolm looked at him helplessly.

"I thought you knew. It seemed like you did, the other day. I'm in love with her, John," he explained.

John stared at him for a moment. Then he lowered his head and said,

"You're right, I should have known. I did know, really. I've often thought you two would be perfect for one another, you were bound to discover it yourself some day."

"Well, I have. Only I don't know yet whether I even stand a chance with her. And it's come at such a damned awkward time," Malcolm murmured. "I made all these plans for infiltrating the Death Eaters thinking that I had nothing to lose. But now ..."

"Now you see that what I said was right. That other people would be affected if anything happened to you."

"Yes. I have no less courage than I always did, I'm still more than ready to go through with this, but if anything should go wrong ..."

"We haven't voted on it yet," John interrupted him. "It's likely the vote will decide against your plan anyway."

"It won't. I still intend to fight tooth and nail to get them to agree, and I'm sure they will."

"Malcolm ..."

"I just want your word that if anything goes wrong, you'll take care of Bridget."

"But ..."

"Your word, John," Malcolm hissed.

John sighed. "You know I will."

Malcolm smiled.

"Thanks. Though I hope, of course, that it won't be necessary."

Dumbledore entered at that moment, followed by Gordon and the rest of the Order who would be attending tonight. The discussion was brief. Malcolm outlined his plan, giving many good reasons for such a venture, insisting that he was more than willing to take the risk and playing down the dangers of the affair. It was agreed, however, that it should be the decision of the Order whether or not the risk was worth the possible gain. It should not be the responsibility of one man alone, because if the plan should fail, the entire Order might be in danger of discovery and elimination. The vote was called, and by a narrow majority, it was decided that Malcolm's plan should be carried out. As soon as his contact supplied the necessary information, it would go ahead. Professor Dumbledore thanked everyone for coming, and the group dissolved quickly. Malcolm avoided John's eye when turning to leave the room, and hurried down the steps. He reached the gravel path down to the gates and slowed his step. Then he heard the great front doors open again, and someone running to catch up with him.

"Malcolm!"

He stopped and looked back to see Philippa Pettigrew hurrying his way.

"What can I do for you?" he asked when she drew level with him.

Pippa was panting slightly. "I just wanted to say that, well, I think you're being very brave."

"Thanks."

Pippa went on, "But I also overheard what you said to John. Now, I know this was your idea, and the vote is over and all that, but ... I wanted to ask you to let me do it instead."

Malcolm gaped at her. "What?!"

"It would be so much more sensible," she said quickly. "I heard you say to John that you came up with this plan when you had nothing to lose, but that's changed now, hasn't it? But not for me. I have no one to leave behind."

"You have a mother and father, and a brother who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to you."

"It's not the same thing."

"No," Malcolm said firmly. "No. This was my idea, and I'm going to carry it out. I'm not letting a kid like you endanger herself unnecessarily."

"I'm not a child!" she protested vigorously.

"You are compared to me," he said. "And I'm telling you I won't let you do it. I appreciate the offer, but my decision is final."

Pippa looked up at him sadly.

"You won't change your mind?"

"No."

"All right," she sighed. "Then I suppose all I can do is wish you good luck."

"Yes."

"Yes. Well, good luck, Malcolm," she said resignedly. "God bless you."

She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then she turned around and walked back to the house.