A Surfeit of Wands

Chapter Three: Shadows

There was no answer at first to Lupin's knock, and Harry took the opportunity to look around, wondering why anyone would bother to keep chickens when eggs were so easy to get hold of in the shops. The cottage was small and neatly painted in white, with a thatched roof - the only thatched roof he had seen in Mold. He wondered if that meant insects lived in the roof and would fall out onto you at night as you slept. Maybe even spiders. He grinned. He couldn't imagine Ron spending a night there. He jumped as one of the chickens - or is it a goose? - brushed against his leg and then resumed stabbing at the ground with a savage beak. Harry cringed and tried to curl his toes in as far as possible, grateful he wasn't wearing sandals.

The cottage door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman looked out at them. Her face cleared when she recognised Lupin and she beckoned them inside. Harry followed Lupin into the cottage, straining to see in the sudden darkness.

Bridget Meadowes led them into a small sitting room containing far too much furniture. Harry looked around the room with interest. It was a little like Mrs. Figg's house, he thought, except that all the furniture in this room matched, as if it had once belonged in a larger house. Yellowing net curtains on the window prevented the sunlight fading the worn upholstery. On top of a piano stood two photographs in old-fashioned silver frames. With a shock, Harry recognised Dorcas Meadowes and Caradoc Dearborn.

'Remus.' Bridget Meadowes' voice was rich and deep. 'It has been a long time.'

'How are you, Bridget? You look well.'

'Well? I thank you for that. And you look tired. But you did not come here to tell me that I look well.'

Harry watched in silence, sensing that the two adults were fencing with one another. 'Bridget,' Lupin said, his voice hesitant, almost gentle. She tensed. 'Have you heard anything of Caradoc, these last days?'

The colour fled her face as if she had been struck, but she did not flinch. 'You know I have not. Is there something to hear?'

'Some of his things have been discovered.'

'Discovered?'

'In a shop. In Mold.'

'And Dorcas?' Her voice was almost a whisper.

'Nothing.'

She shook her head once, slowly, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, her voice was stronger. 'I should not have let him go.'

'He would have gone anyway. You know that.'

'Then I should have stopped him.'

'He would not have listened. He was a brave man, Bridget, a lion of a man. A true Gryffindor.'

'There was never anyone else.' Her voice wavered and, for one horrifying moment, Harry thought she might cry. He stared at the floor in embarrassment, noticing for the first time the worn and faded patches on the patterned red carpet. Then the moment passed and Bridget Meadowes spoke again.

'Well, Remus. What things have you discovered?'

She listened carefully as Lupin told her. Like Geraint Dearborn, she asked no questions. When Lupin had finished speaking, she rose gracefully to her feet and showed them out. As they walked back into the blinding sunlight, closing the door behind them, Harry was sure he heard the sound of a woman crying.

--

They completed the rest of the walk back to Mold in silence. Now and then, Harry glanced at Lupin, only to find him deep in thought. It was not until they were walking down the High Street on the way back to the library that Lupin seemed to come out of his reverie.

'We didn't find out much,' Harry ventured.

'Less than I hoped,' Lupin agreed. 'More than I expected.'

Harry looked at him in surprise. 'You mean you did find something out?'

'Oh yes.' Lupin sounded cheerful. 'Geraint was lying to us. I'm not a Legilimens, but I knew him well enough sixteen years ago. He didn't sever his ties with the wizarding world until Caradoc died. No, there's something he's not telling us, and we're going to have to find out what it is.'

'His own brother.' Harry was appalled.

Lupin looked across at him. 'Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Betrayal makes its own rules, Harry. Never forget that.'

--

'Have you seen this? Harry passed the Daily Prophet along the table to Lupin.

'What?'

'Page four.'

Lupin turned the pages and read aloud: 'Are you bothered by unseemly odours? Send an owl today for - '

Despite himself, Harry grinned. 'Next to it.'

More Escapes From Azkaban

Bribery and Corruption inside the Wizard World's Top Prison? By Rita Skeeter

Two more of the Ministry of Magic's 'Most Wanted' have managed to escape from the island fortress of Azkaban, a source at the Ministry revealed yesterday. Three years after the escape of mass murderer Sirius Black, and less than a year after the mass escape of twelve of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's most devoted followers, Walden Macnair and Lucius Malfoy have been reported missing by guards at the wizard prison.

Malfoy, 42, and Macnair, 41, were imprisoned after the audacious attack by Death Eaters on the Ministry Headquarters in July. Our readers will remember that Malfoy and Macnair were implicated by Harry Potter, the 'Boy who Lived', in the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named last year. Although no evidence was forthcoming at the time to support the charge, Malfoy was also named as a key supporter of the Dark Lord at the end of the First War, but was acquitted without a stain on his character after claiming he was acting under the effects of the Imperius curse.

On behalf of our readers, and of the wizarding world, the Daily Prophet demands answers to these questions:

As long as these questions remain unanswered, our readers can rest assured in the knowledge that the Daily Prophet will continue to seek tirelessly after the truth.

The Minister of Magic was unavailable for comment as the Daily Prophet went to press.

Beside the article, a picture of Lucius Malfoy stared superciliously out of the page; next to it, a tiny Macnair was polishing an enormous axe. His eyes glinted behind the executioner's mask. Harry had an uncomfortable feeling that he was smiling.

Lupin stroked his chin, frowning. 'Why hasn't this made the front page?' He turned to the front of the Prophet. 'Oh. Ministry reshuffle. Well of course civil servants taking up new jobs would be more important than Death Eaters escaping from Azkaban.'

'Will they come here?' Harry hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud until Lupin put the paper down and looked at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

'Possibly,' Lupin answered after a moment. He wiped toast crumbs from his mouth and stood up. 'I must be going. We'll talk about this later, Harry. Stay close to the castle today.'

'Where are you going?'

'I need to talk to Dumbledore.'

'You can't,' observed Snape from a little further along the table. Harry stiffened; he hadn't realised that the Potions Master had been listening to their conversation. He looked down into his pumpkin juice. 'He's at the Ministry,' Snape continued. There was an unpleasant smile on his face.

Lupin's lips tightened in irritation. 'Thank you, Severus,' he said in a courteous voice. 'In that case, it will have to wait. Do you happen to know when he will be back?'

Snape shrugged. 'I neither know nor care.'

Horrified at the possibility of being left alone at the breakfast table with Snape, Harry jumped up. 'I - er - I'd better get a move on,' he mumbled. 'I promised Hermione I'd write.' From the look on Snape's face, he could tell he hadn't fooled the Potions Master for an instant.

Abandoning his pumpkin juice, Harry fled the Great Hall.

--

Dear Hermione,

How are things with you? Was Cyprus good? I've never been abroad. Thanks for the card and the Wizard Wand Wipes. It's pretty boring being stuck here, although I suppose I'm getting some studying done. Too much studying, if you ask me. Hedwig's been out a lot; she's really happy to be back here in the Owlery. It can't be much fun for her spending all summer in a cage at the Dursleys'.

Harry hesitated, chewing his quill. He was not sure how much he wanted to tell Hermione about what was happening at Hogwarts. He could hear her voice in his head as clearly as if she were standing beside him. Be careful, Harry. Professor Lupin's right - you mustn't take any risks.

You mustn't take any risks. Harry scowled. He wasn't about to take any risks. Didn't anyone realise that? Everyone seemed to think he liked risks. It's not as if I have any choice about this, he thought angrily. I can't just turn into someone else. I'm the one who's got to fight Voldemort. It's easy for everyone else to sit around and say 'Don't take risks.' It's not going to be them at the end, facing him down.

He shook his head and returned to the letter he was writing.

A funny thing happened a couple of days ago. Hestia Jones - you know, that Welsh witch -

Harry hesitated; he had been going to remind Hermione that Hestia was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but it didn't seem like a good idea to put that in a letter. Hermione would remember, he told herself. She never forgot anything.

- anyway, she found a real wand for sale in a Muggle shop. She bought it, of course, and brought it to Dumbledore. Turns out it belonged to Caradoc Dearborn. Hagrid's really upset; they were good friends. Dumbledore, Professor Lupin and Hestia are trying to find out how it got into the shop. They also found a photograph of me as a baby, which was a bit weird.

I'll let you know what happens. Did you see today's Daily Prophet? Bet Dumbledore's not happy about that. Professor Lupin wanted to talk to him about it, but he'd already gone to the Ministry. Have you got your books for this year yet? I don't think they're going to let me go to Diagon Alley. Buy Ron a sundae at Fortescue's from me. See you soon.

Harry

That wasn't too bad, thought Harry, re-reading his letter with an approving eye. Now for the easy one. He pulled a fresh sheet of parchment towards him, dipped his quill in the ink and began to write once more.

Hey Ron,

How are things? Thanks for the card and the Cannons poster. Bet you didn't know that Wronski didn't invent the Wronski feint - he nicked it from O'Leary. Yeah, I've been doing a bit of reading this summer. It's pretty dull cooped up here. I've even done some reading for my Potions NEWT. I'm not letting Snape score any points off me when we start back next week. I've finished with Most Potente Potions and I'm onto Most Excellente Elixirs. Bet you anything you like Most Dreadfulle Draughts is next, or maybe Most Boringe Brewes. McGonagall's given me a pass to the Restricted Section. Pince keeps wandering over to check up on what I'm reading. She needn't worry; all the books look dead boring. Anyway, I'm not going to let McGonagall down, even if all the Potions books have even worse titles than Lockhart's did. Maybe I should write one called Most Greasy Gittes and leave it lying around in the dungeons for Snape to find.

How've things been at the Burrow this summer? Are Fred and George around much? Tell them their bit of swamp is still there in the Charms corridor. I went and had a look the other day. Say hi to Ginny from me.

It's not all boring here, though. That Welsh witch, Hestia Jones - you know, we met her last summer - found a wand and a photo of me as a baby in a Muggle shop. The wand belonged to one of Fawkes's friends, first time round. (Harry underlined this heavily.) Funny thing is, the photo's got his handwriting on, but he died before I was born. So we're sort of trying to find out what's going on. I'll let you know what happens.

Did you see the Prophet? I was pretty sick when I read it. Hope they catch them, or Malfoy's going to be unbearable when he gets back to school. It looks like they won't let me go to Diagon Alley next week, so buy Hermione a sundae at Fortescue's from me, OK?

Harry

Harry rolled up the letters and took them up to the Owlery. Hedwig greeted him with a friendly nip on the finger as he tied Hermione's letter to her outstretched leg. For Ron's letter, he chose Adonis, a handsome long-eared owl, who belonged to the school and puffed out his chest importantly as Harry attached the letter.

It was another pleasant day, so Harry wandered around outside for a while before returning to the castle. He strolled down to the lake and held a one-sided conversation with the giant squid, which seemed pleased to see him. He wondered if it was as bored as he was, and whether there were other giant squids. Maybe it would like some company. He decided he would ask Hermione about giant squids when he saw her.

On his way back from the lake, he called in on Hagrid but found the cottage empty. Harry scribbled a note and left it on the table for Hagrid to find, then, suddenly ravenous, headed back up to the castle in search of lunch.

--

After an uncomfortable meal, during which he was convinced that Snape was studying him intently the whole time, Harry retreated to the Gryffindor common room and lounged on a sofa, leafing idly through Quidditch through the Ages and thinking about the upcoming season. He wondered if Ron and Ginny had been practising over the summer. With both Angelina and Alicia gone, as well as Fred and George, the Gryffindor team was desperately short of experienced players. It was true that Sloper and Kirke had got better as time had passed; even so, Harry mused, they would be hard pushed this year to keep the House Cup from falling into Slytherin's hands. Or even Ravenclaw's. He wondered if Cho would still be playing as Seeker for the Ravenclaw team this year. He couldn't imagine her giving Quidditch up just for her NEWTs; Cho was as passionate about the game as he was. With a shock, he realised that he was looking forward to seeing her again, and flying against her. His crush on her had completely disappeared, and with it the embarrassment he had felt whenever they had met. He wondered if she was still seeing Michael Corner, and shrugged. As long as she wasn't still crying all the time. He stretched out and started to make a mental list of possible candidates for the Gryffindor team.

'Potter.'

Harry started. Professor McGonagall was standing in the doorway.

'Sorry, Professor,' he mumbled, jumping to his feet. 'I must have dozed off.'

'The Headmaster would like a word with you in his office. Right away.' At the look of panic on his face, she smiled. 'Don't worry, Potter. Nothing untoward has happened. You might want to run a comb through that hair of yours before you go and see the Headmaster. Although, now I come to think of it, it never did your father any good.'

--

'Professor Dumbledore?' Harry burst into the Headmaster's office and paused to catch his breath, after running all the way from the Common room.

'Ah, Harry. Sit down? Tea?' Before Harry could answer, Dumbledore had handed him a teacup. Harry sipped the tea numbly, wondering what was coming.

Dumbledore's face was serious. 'Now then, Harry. I need you to hear me out without interrupting, please. When I have finished, you are more than welcome to state your point of view.' Harry nodded, and Dumbledore continued.

'I should like you to resume your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.'

Harry caught his teacup just in time. He opened his mouth to argue, but Dumbledore raised a hand and Harry fell silent.

'I know that you have found these lessons neither educational nor pleasant. However, the situation is becoming increasingly dangerous and you are privy to a good deal of confidential information. The identities of many members of the Order, for example. I know that you would not wish to place your friends in danger simply because you were not willing to undergo an unpleasant experience.'

Put like that, Harry thought miserably, it was impossible to refuse. He nodded. Dumbledore smiled and came round from behind his desk to place a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

'Courage has always been one of your greatest assets, Harry. Sometimes it takes unexpected forms. It is not always the obvious danger that is hardest to face.'

Snape, Harry thought in despair. An idea occurred to him and he looked up to find Dumbledore's gaze upon him.

'You could do it,' he suggested eagerly. But Dumbledore shook his head.

'There is still a strong link between you and Voldemort. The risk is too great.'

'Snape hates me,' said Harry dully. 'I looked into his Pensieve - '

'I have already spoken to Professor Snape. He is willing to continue with your tuition. He also is a courageous man, Harry. Do not forget that.'

--

That night Harry dreamed he rode his Firebolt through an endless sky. Around him the clouds swirled ominously, shifting and coalescing into vague shapes and half-formed faces. He tried to fix the patterns in his mind, knowing it was important that he remember, but even as he tried, they were lost on the wind. Far below him, a tiny figure on a broomstick executed a perfect figure-of-eight, over and over again. Cho, Harry thought, and turned his Firebolt earthwards to join her. A layer of cloud drifted between them, obscuring his view; as Harry plummeted towards it, the cloud resolved itself into Snape's sneering face. Before he could stop himself, Harry shot through the open mouth and out into a clear blue sky. He looked around for Cho, but could not see her.

Something whizzed past him, almost knocking him from his broom. Cho's laughter carried clearly on the thin air and he dragged the Firebolt round in a sharp turn until he saw her streaking away towards the Forbidden Forest. Smiling, he gave chase, overtaking her easily, and whirling round to grin at her in triumph.

Lucius Malfoy stared back at him from atop Cho's broom.

Harry froze. Unable to move, he watched helplessly as Malfoy produced his wand from his robes and pointed it at Harry.

'Avada Kedavra.'

Green light struck Harry in the chest, hurling him backwards. He was falling, falling...

He woke up, shaking, and did not sleep again all night.