A Surfeit of Wands

Chapter Four: Scars

'Concentrate, Potter!'

On hands and knees, Harry studied his reflection in the polished wooden floor. 'I'm trying,' he muttered. He heard footsteps approach but kept his eyes fixed on the ground, knowing that Snape was walking over to him.

The footsteps stopped. Silence. Without moving his head, Harry let his gaze drift upwards slightly, until he could see Snape's robes.

'So.' Snape's voice was smooth. 'You are trying.'

Harry got clumsily to his feet and stood before Snape, fists clenched in the pockets of his robes.

'Occlumency is not a toy, Potter. It is not a game of Quidditch, for impressing your friends. Trying is not good enough.'

Harry said nothing.

Snape continued silkily, 'But perhaps it is all a game to the great Harry Potter. Our resident celebrity has no need of practice. Not for him the - '

'Look,' Harry interrupted, determined to be reasonable. 'I am trying and I do understand. I just didn't sleep very well last night, all right?'

Snape's eyes narrowed. 'And you think that matters. Do you think the Dark Lord cares whether you are sleeping well, Potter? Do you expect him to wait while you ready yourself, to hold back an attack until you are prepared? Do you have any idea - any idea at all - what you are facing? Do you know- -'

'I do know.' Harry faced Snape, very white. 'I do know. I'd be pretty stupid if I didn't know by now, wouldn't I?' He plunged on recklessly, heedless of the expression on Snape's face. 'He killed my Mum and Dad. He keeps trying to kill me. All because of some stupid prophecy that might not be about me at all!' He stopped, realising that he was shouting.

Snape stared at him, licking his lips. 'How like your father you are,' he said finally. 'Despite the Headmaster's request, there is little I can do with you this evening. Get out. We will try again tomorrow.'

Harry retrieved his wand from where it had rolled under a chair, and bolted.

--

Unable to settle in the library, he collected his Firebolt from the dormitory and wandered down to the Quidditch pitch. He had brought a Snitch with him, and he amused himself chasing and catching it, shocked at how out of practice he had become.

A shadow fell across the clouds and he looked up to see Tonks smiling down from her Comet Two Sixty. She waved a hand at him and sped off, and he thrust upwards after her, forgetting completely about the golden Snitch. They wove in and out of cloud cover in an aerial version of hide-and-seek until Tonks turned, laughing, and pointed her wand at Harry, showering him in pink paint. She halted her broom, waiting while he drew close.

'What was that for?' He gestured at the paint covering his robes.

She grinned. 'Auror training for aerial combat. Come on, I'll show you how.'

It took a few minutes, but eventually Harry was able to fire a clumsy jet of green paint from the tip of his wand. Tonks took off again immediately, and they chased each other as far as the Forbidden Forest in one direction, and the castle in the other, all the time hurling paint across the sky. Finally, Harry caught Tonks' eye and pointed downwards, and they headed for home together.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting for them, a lonely figure seated in the Quidditch stands. He jumped up as they landed and ran to meet them. Harry was covered in pink splodges, but he was pleased to see that Tonks had not escaped entirely; there were green streaks in her hair and a larger patch on her shoulder. Shacklebolt twisted a finger in her hair and wagged it at her, shaking his head.

'Nymphadora Tonks,' he pronounced gravely, 'you are a mess.' He turned to Harry. 'And as for you - I hate to say it, Harry, but I don't think pink is your colour.'

Harry grinned. Tonks looked at the paint on Shacklebolt's finger and screwed up her face in concentration. A moment later the green streaks were invisible, hidden amongst green hair. She stuck her tongue out at Shacklebolt.

'That better? Don't listen to him, Harry; that pink looks great on you.'

'Dumbledore's in his office,' Kingsley said, his eyes on Tonks. 'He wants to see you.'

'Shit!' She grabbed her wand, pointing it at the green splashes on her robes. 'Scourgify.' Some of the paint vanished. She handed the Comet to Harry, shrugging, and hastened away towards the castle, rubbing ineffectually at the remaining stains on her robes as she went.

'She's good, isn't she?' Harry said, watching her hurry away. Shacklebolt nodded. 'Why doesn't she play Quidditch? She's not on any of the Cups or anything.'

The Auror laughed. 'Next time you're flying together, try throwing something at her. She won't catch it.'

'Oh.' Harry blinked. 'It seems funny that she's so good at flying - ' He broke off, unsure how to say what he meant without being rude.

Shacklebolt seemed to understand. 'Maybe that's why she likes flying so much.'

--

'So how did last night's Occlumency session go?' Lupin's tone was casual.

Harry considered. 'Not too bad,' he admitted. 'He just got on with it. He didn't talk about my dad too much, or - or Sirius at all, or anything.'

'Good.'

'I was tired though. He wasn't very happy. I tried to tell him I hadn't slept well, but he didn't want to listen.'

Lupin said cautiously, 'I think he just wants to make sure that you're prepared for whatever you come up against. He knows, better than any of us, how good Voldemort's Legilimency is. But he's not the easiest person in the world to work with.'

Harry gave a fervent nod. 'Professor Lupin?'

'Mm?'

'Are you ever afraid?'

'Of what?'

'Of - you know - of the future?'

Lupin shot him a sharp glance. 'You mean Voldemort. Yes. We all are, Harry. Everyone is.'

'About Geraint Dearborn.' Harry chose his words carefully. 'Did you ever find out if he was lying to you?'

A shadow flitted across Lupin's face and it was a moment before he replied. 'I did.'

'Was he?'

'Yes.' Harry waited and finally Lupin said, 'Someone left a parcel of Caradoc's things for Geraint the day before we came. He didn't tell us because he didn't want us to take them from him. His brother's clothes.'

'What did you do?'

'We took them.' Lupin's voice was weary. 'We thought they might have been able to tell us something. They didn't. He has no idea who left them.' He stared at the ground, brown eyes angry.

How do you know he has no idea? Harry was about to ask, but he checked himself in time. Legilimency, of course. He looked sidelong at Lupin, wondering what to say next.

Fang chose that moment to hurtle out of a rhododendron bush and leap up at Harry, almost knocking him to the ground. Hagrid came hurrying up after the dog and seized him by the collar. 'Fang! Fang! Yer a stupid dog. All right, Harry?' Despite the admonition, Hagrid's face was full of pride as he yanked at Fang, who was now licking Harry's face as if there was nothing in the world he wanted to do more than drown Harry in a sea of saliva.

'Fine, Hagrid, thanks.' Harry wiped one sleeve across his face, and then the other.

'Professor Lupin!' Hagrid looked shocked. 'Sure yeh should be out of the Hospital Wing?'

'Hagrid - '

'Hospital Wing?' Lupin and Harry spoke simultaneously.

'Ah.' Hagrid looked guilty. 'Yeh were keepin' it quiet. Sorry, Professor. Don't ask, Harry. Come here, Fang.' He stomped off towards his cottage. Fang gave Harry a farewell lick and then leapt after him.

Harry gave Lupin a questioning look. 'Hospital Wing?'

Lupin passed a hand over his face, frowning. 'It's nothing. Just a couple of Death Eaters. Kingsley and I sorted it out.'

'You were hurt.'

'Yes.' Lupin grinned. 'Careless. We walked into an ambush.'

'Where?'

'Hogsmeade.'

'Hogsmeade!' Harry was silent as he considered this new information. The thought that there could be Death Eaters strolling around in broad daylight, just outside the school gates, was not something that had previously occurred to him. 'You weren't going to tell me,' he accused, and then, with a flash of insight, 'This isn't the first time this has happened.'

'Yes and no. It's the first time we've caught them scouting around Hogsmeade.'

'Looking for me.'

'Almost certainly,' Lupin agreed with a cheerful smile. 'Don't worry about it. Sometimes a skirmish like that can be just what you need to brighten up a dull day. Next time you see Kingsley, get him to tell you about the Death Eaters he and Dung ran into on Salisbury Plain six weeks ago. Now that was quite a fight. Two against six. At least that's what Dung says. Kingsley says it was only four.'

--

Harry awoke with a start. He lay in his bed, very still, wondering what had awakened him. There it was again - a noise outside. Death Eaters! He thrust back the heavy velvet curtains, pulled his wand out from under the pillow and hurried to the window.

Two men were helping a third across the castle grounds. As Harry watched from the dormitory window, a shaft of moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating their faces. Harry recognised Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt, supporting Mad-Eye Moody between them. As Harry watched, Moody stumbled and fell. He did not get up. Lupin cursed and grabbed his wand. A stretcher appeared, floating beside him, and he and Shacklebolt bent to lift Moody up onto it.

Harry waited no longer. He ran back to the bed and snatched up his Invisibility Cloak. They would be heading for the Hospital Wing.

--

'He should be all right, but he needs rest. Severus is looking at the poison now. I've done what I can to ease the symptoms.' Madam Pomfrey pushed her hair back from her forehead and frowned down at Moody's unconscious form. She was dressed in a long nightgown and her hair was done up in two fat pigtails. 'Did you see what happened?'

Shacklebolt shook his head. 'I was supposed to take over from him. When he didn't turn up, I went looking for him. I found him like this.'

'Lucky for him that you did.' Pomfrey's voice was sober. She picked up a small knife from the bedside table and turned it over and over in her hands. 'I don't understand why someone would use a Muggle weapon. Even a poisoned one.' The dagger glinted wickedly in the moonlight and she shuddered and replaced it on the table.

'I don't know,' Shacklebolt disagreed. 'Nobody using magic would have got close. Whoever it was obviously knew that.'

'Which means that Alastor was the intended target.' Lupin frowned. 'Not Harry. I don't understand this. I need to talk to Dumbledore.'

'Full moon tomorrow, isn't it?' Pomfrey gave Lupin a curious look. 'How are you finding the Wolfsbane?'

'Much better, thank you.' He grinned. 'It must make life easier for you, too. No patching up to do the morning after!'

'It's certainly a change,' she admitted. 'Now, then. You two should get yourselves cleaned up and get some sleep. I'll sit with him.' She pulled up a chair next to Moody's bed and curled up in it, tucking her feet under her.

Lupin gave her a wry look. 'And when will you sleep?'

'I'll have a nap tomorrow if things stay quiet.'

'I have a feeling things aren't going to stay quiet for long.' Shacklebolt's deep voice was sober.

Pomfrey looked up at him and nodded. 'I agree. So let's get all the rest we can, while there's still time.'

'And when there isn't?' Lupin queried softly. 'Back to your Time Turner and Dreamless Sleep? I thought you had had enough of that last time, Poppy.'

She glanced up at him, obviously startled by the use of her first name. 'I did. We all did. But I have a feeling many of us may be doing it again before the end.' Her face was grim.

--

Harry pulled the curtains open the next morning to see rain slashing down. Not much point in flying today. He went over to his trunk and began rooting through it, whistling through his teeth in satisfaction when he unearthed a battered old leather satchel. He packed his spare robes in it, and some underwear, then thought for a minute before adding some shortbread and a packet of Chocolate Frogs. That ought to be enough. He pulled the mirror Lupin had given him from his pocket and stood thinking, then shook his head. Easier to keep that on him, and pack it in the satchel every night when he went to bed. If there were Death Eaters in Hogsmeade, at least he was prepared. He shoved the satchel far under his bed where it could not be seen by prying eyes and then, well satisfied with his work, wandered up to the library to get on with some studying. He pulled Moste Excellent Elixirs from the shelf and settled down to finish his notes on billywig stings and their use in aphrodisiacs, wondering as he did so why aphrodisiacs were part of the NEWT course at all. Should think that would be the last thing Snape wants us making - unless, of course, he can't make them himself...His thoughts veered uneasily towards Snape's sex life, and he wrenched them away. Don't want to throw up. He wondered vaguely how many of the teaching staff were married, and where they went at the weekends, or during the holidays. The castle was almost deserted at the moment; he had only seen Dumbledore, Snape and Hagrid more than a handful of times, so presumably they stayed there for the holiday. He had seen McGonagall once, but no more; it was possible that she had a husband and children elsewhere, although Harry found it hard to imagine. McGonagall in bed... ugh. He had seen none of the other professors at all.

He wouldn't have been here himself, he reflected, if it hadn't been for Dumbledore's insistence. Although Harry knew that the age of majority in the wizarding world was seventeen, he was surprised to find that Dumbledore was aware that Muggles began to gain adult rights when they reached sixteen and still more surprised to discover that this affected him directly. As Dumbledore had explained to him on his sixteenth birthday, the magic protecting him at Privet Drive would not work for an adult, and even Dumbledore did not know what constituted an 'adult' where the compact with Aunt Petunia was concerned. Harry had been only too delighted to pack up his few possessions and leave the Dursleys, even if, he admitted to himself, Hogwarts in the holidays could be quite boring at times. The thought made him smile. He would never have imagined, five years ago, that he could ever find Hogwarts boring!

He got up and mooched across to the library window. It was still raining.

--

It rained all day, and all through the evening too. It was raining when Harry meandered reluctantly down to the dungeons for another Occlumency session with Snape; it was raining when he staggered back two hours later, feeling as if his head was about to burst open. He was making progress, he told himself with savage satisfaction; Snape had tried to gain access to Harry's memory of Sirius falling through the veil, but Harry had managed to block him. He had known Snape would try at some point, and was learning to read the other man, to understand the tiny, betraying gestures that Snape didn't know he was making, and defend himself accordingly. Harry did not need praise to know he had done well that evening; the absence of criticism was enough.

At the stairs to the common room, he hesitated and then turned towards the guest quarters and the room where Lupin was staying. He knocked on the door and waited, wondering at the slight pause before it was pulled ajar and Lupin's head poked round the gap.

'Have you got a minute?' Harry asked.

Lupin grimaced. 'A minute, yes. Not much more, though. Come in.' He opened the door wide and Harry went in. The room was unusually tidy, even for Lupin. The papers on the desk by the window had been cleared away and the bedside table was empty, apart from a pewter goblet, the contents of which smoked ominously.

'Oh,' muttered Harry, realising what the goblet signified. 'I'm sorry, Professor. I forgot what night it was.' He glanced automatically at the window, but the moon was obscured by great black clouds.

'Don't worry about that. Now what can I do for you?' Harry sat down on the bed and told Lupin about the Occlumency lesson.

Lupin listened attentively. 'Well done,' he said when Harry had finished speaking. 'That was a difficult situation and you seem to have handled it extremely well.'

Harry felt a warm glow inside. 'It was typical of Snape,' he remarked.

'Professor Snape. Yes, I think it was, although not in the way you mean. Severus has a talent for ferreting out people's weaknesses to use against them.' He gazed out of the window for a moment, a strange expression on his face. Harry watched him curiously. 'It's a valid teaching method, though.' Lupin said at last, 'However unpleasant, it's good practice. You'll need to be prepared.'

For when you face Voldemort. The words hung unspoken in the air between them. Lupin crossed to the bedside table and raised the goblet to his lips, making a horrible face as he drank. 'You'd think I'd be used to the taste after all this time,' he murmured, 'but somehow it seems to get worse every month. Sometimes I wonder if Severus does it deliberately.'

'Do you want me to take that back?' Harry indicated the empty goblet.

Lupin shook his head. 'And face Professor Snape for the second time in one evening? I'll return it tomorrow. However, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. There are still a few things I need to do, before...' He didn't need to finish the sentence. Harry nodded, and slid off the bed, closing Lupin's door behind him as he left.

Thunder split the night as he climbed up the stairs to the dormitory, and he curled up on the window seat to watch the storm. It was a spectacular night: the rain washed down the window in sheets and lightning flashed across the sky, lighting the darkness until it seemed as bright as day. Thunder followed immediately, a crash so vicious and so deafening that Harry knew without counting that the storm was directly overhead. He sat in the darkness for a long time, revelling in the weather, until finally his limbs grew cold and stiff and he got reluctantly down from the window and climbed into bed for a sleep untroubled by dreams.

The next morning, Harry awoke refreshed and hungry. He ambled downstairs to breakfast and was tucking in enthusiastically to sausage, bacon and fried egg when Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in, his face sober. He hurried over to Dumbledore and murmured something in his ear. After wiping his beard carefully with his napkin, Dumbledore rose and the two of them hurried out of the Great Hall. Harry finished his breakfast in silence, wondering what was going on. No matter. He could find out from Lupin soon enough.

He took a quick detour via the Hospital Wing to check on Moody and came away not entirely reassured. Madam Pomfrey had chased him out, telling him not to worry, but it was clear that Moody's condition was troubling her. She hadn't even bothered to ask Harry how he had found out about it. Frowning, he was heading for Lupin's room when he bumped into Shacklebolt once again, carrying a bulky knapsack, and dressed in Muggle clothes. They suited him rather well, Harry thought, surveying him: Shacklebolt had chosen a black leather jacket and jeans which were neither too smart nor too shabby and actually complemented each other, unlike the outfits he had seen most wizards or witches wear when they tried to dress like Muggles. With a start he realised that being able to dress like a Muggle, and carry it off, was probably something all Aurors would be required to do. He smiled to himself. That was one part of the training he should be able to cope with, at any rate.

'Where are you going?' he enquired.

Shacklebolt looked at him for a moment, as if considering his answer. 'Mold.'

'Why? What's happened? Something's happened.' He stared at Shacklebolt, willing him to speak, and the Auror nodded.

'Bridget Meadowes has been murdered.'