To Make Much of Time

All of the Hogwarts students in Sherwood Forest were rudely awaken by a loud blast from a hunting horn just outside their tents.

"Rise and shine!" called out their host, cheerfully. "If y'all keep lollygagging 'round in bed, breakfast is gonna walk off without ya!"

Students ranging from bleary-eyed to ale-worn stumbled blindly from their tents. Many of them were emerging from different tents than the ones to which they had been assigned.

"But it's still the middle of the night," protested Darla.

"It's always the middle of the night," said Ginny, kissing Harry fondly, "at least in this painting. See?"

Through the tress, sunlight was clearly visible as it poured in through the corridor windows, though the sky of the painting was still pitch black.

"It's a lovely night, isn't it?" asked Melinda, gazing at the starlit sky overhead.

Ginny sat down hard on the ground by the fire and looked curiously at Melinda. "What put you in such a good mood?"

"Good morning, everyone!" Ron bounded over to fire. "Looking forward to getting back? I know I am!"

Ginny looked from her brother to Melinda, both of whom wore identical contented expressions. She shook her head in disgust. "I'm never asking that question again," she grumbled.

Breakfast consisted of some bacon, eggs, and an oatmeal-like substance that Robin called "grits."

Hermione appeared at the edge of the fire and took inventory of all her charges. "Where are William and Sarah?"

There were a few scattered giggles.

"They were still trying to figure out how to get out of the tent when I saw them last," said Charlie through a mouthful of grits. "I think they were up a bit late last night."

Hermione glanced at her wristwatch. "Well, if they're not here soon, Robin will probably have to play the Wake-Up Song."

"What's the Wake-Up Song?" asked Darla.

As if in answer to her query, a loud, unsteady hunting horn blat came from the woods behind him. The sound was slightly muffled, as if it were being played inside a tent. This was quickly followed by more of the same, a cacophony of pitches so unharmonious and awful that they all knew it to be deliberate.

A few moments after the aural onslaught ceased, William and Sarah, still straightening their uniforms and distinctly out of breath, came crashing out of the forest. Charlie and Sophie began to giggle.

Ginny grinned and held out a steaming wooden bowl of grits. "Care for something hot, William?" she offered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Snape awoke to the sound of raised voices.

"Shh," whispered Dilys. "Lie still, and don't move."

Snape was surprised to find that his head was bandaged, though he could still see through the thin weave of the bandages.

Outside the portrait, the Headmistress was entertaining the Minister and the Senior Undersecretary, or rather, the Headmistress was serving tea while the Minister and Senior Undersecretary sputtered indignantly

"Are you quite finished?" she asked when they paused for breath.

"You can't possibly expect us to believe that," said the Minister, who recovered his wind more quickly.

"Even if it happens to be the truth?" asked Minerva in the supercilious manner that always set Snape's teeth on edge when it was directed at him. "I assure you, I have no way of tracking the specific location of all the students in this school. Any such magic performed by a sitting Headmistress would be an extreme invasion of privacy and outlawed by the original school charter as put forth by the Hogwarts Founders."

"And we know how well that has worked," said Percy nastily, "and how many of your students have been in mortal peril or died while under your care."

"Unlike other former Headmistresses" said McGonagall, "all casualties that occurred under my tenure have been thoroughly investigated by the Wizengamot. Furthermore, I fail to understand why you are asking me to keep tabs on the students when you have already put tracking devices on them."

"That's really none of your concern," said Umbridge with a trilling laugh. "The Ministry knows best in these situations, and the sooner you realize this, the easier all of our lives will be."

"What do you mean?' asked McGonagall suspiciously.

The Minister and Undersecretary exchanged looks.

"It has not escaped my notice," said the Minister at last, "that the Ministry's education budget has been the same for the past three years. I'm also aware that expenses have gone up, what with the eboncap mushroom shortage driving up the cost of ink."

"Just think," added the Undersecretary, "how grateful the Ministry would be for your cooperation with this. We're not asking you to infringe upon the school's charter, we're simply asking for the benefit of your experience in stopping troublemakers from breaking the rules."

"I beg your pardon," said the Headmistress in tones of the utmost sincerity. "I wasn't aware that any rules had been broken."

The Ministry officials stared at her with unflattering incredulity.

"What about students being out after curfew?" cried the Minister, red-faced.

"None of the faculty patrolling the school have noticed an unusual rise in after-curfew activity. In fact, there have been fewer incidents since the Ministry started the program, for which, I suppose, I should thank you."

"What about failing to appear for a required appointment with the Ministry?" said Umbridge, radiating indignance.

"I must have missed the section of the new law that declared girls who did not wish to take advantage of the Ministry's service would be criminalized."

"That particularly technicality will not be at issue long," said Umbridge in an undertone.

"Tampering with a Ministry-required device!" shouted Percy, with such vehemence that his glasses slid off the end of his nose.

McGonagall smiled warmly. "Now really, Minister. You thoroughly checked the wands of all the students, faculty, and staff at this school. If you had found any sign of anyone having tampered with the tracking amulets, I assume that you would have brought it to my attention before now."

"Your obstinacy has been noted," said Umbridge, scribbling furiously on a steno pad.

"There's no need to cast aspersions, Dolores," said McGonagall. "I will be happy to give the Ministry my best advice."

Percy's surprise quickly faded into a condescending smile. "I knew you'd see reason. Please, tell us what we ought to know."

"I am of the opinion," said the Headmistress with no small edge in her voice, "that you should immediately repeal this universally insulting, unenforceable piece of legislation, disband the impenetrable bureaucracy you have created to manage it, and focus the Ministry's resources on catching criminals, instead of punishing those who have done nothing wrong."

The Minister and Senior Undersecretary stared at her in mute shock.

"Since I have nothing more to say to either of you," said the Headmistress, "I will leave you. Thank you very much for giving up so much of your valuable time." She swept out of the room.

The only sound to be heard was stifled sniggering from the paintings on the wall.

"Brava, Minerva," said Snape in admiration. "Well spoken."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Hermione and the others clambered down into Smaug's portrait, Hermione immediately realized something was amiss and shushed the others. The air was thick with the smell of brimstone, and Smaug was not lounging in the center of the painting, as was his custom. She gestured for them to remain at the back of the cave. Harry, Ron, and Ginny took up defensive positions in front of the younger students.

Hermione raised her sword and stepped forward. Smaug was lying in wait at the edge of the painting, blocking their exit to Balfour Blane's portrait. His head rested on his forepaws, his back was arched defensively, and his normally wide and friendly eyes were narrowed. This forbidding posture would have sent most people running in the other direction. However, Hermione was not most people.

"Smaug," she said tentatively, "what's wrong?"

"You've returned, thief." Though the dragon's voice was cold, tendrils of smoke curled up from his mouth.

"Don't let's play games. It's Hermione. The students and I are returning what we borrowed, and now we're going to class."

"It is not so," said the dragon, "for you have taken something from me with no intention of returning it."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have long wondered about the taste of man," mused the dragon. "I suspect it is far superior to the taste of dwarf."

"Smaug, stop it!" ordered Hermione, sharply. "None of us have taken anything from you. You've seen us come and go dozens of times, and we've never done anything to upset you."

The dragon raised his eye crests, which were the closest thing Smaug had to eyebrows. "Then where's Glamdring?" At Hermione's look of confusion, Smaug snorted derisively. "The man I saw took Glamdring and ran off like a cowardly sneak thief."

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat. "You saw a man?"

"Yes, and he had the same inky and book smell you all have."

Hermione's mind reeled. Who could have gotten into the portraits without her help? Could they have been followed? "What did he look like?"

Smaug sighed impatiently, twitching his left shoulder. Hermione suspected he had an itch but was too angry to ask her for a scratch. "All humans look the same," he complained, "especially through heat vapor when you're breathing fire at them. But he was taller than you, with darker fur than you, and he was dressed all in black."

The pieces clicked together in Hermione's brain. Professor Snape was stealthy enough to have followed them without being noticed and certainly clever enough to follow them into the portraits. But why would he have risked the wrath of a dragon to steal a fictional sword? It made no sense.

"Listen, Smaug," said Hermione in her most reasonable voice. "The man who came earlier has no business in the portraits. If I promise to find Glamdring and return it to you, will you let the others out?"

The dragon pretended to admire his claws as he considered her request. "What are you going to do with the thief when you find him?"

Hermione entertained the notion of feeding her obnoxious Potions professor to Smaug, but only for a moment. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I'll try to find out what he's doing here and whether or not he should be here."

"And Glamdring?"

"I'll return it to you," she said with confidence.

"Very well," said Smaug, nodding at the students in the shadows. "You may pass." He lifted his enormous bulk from the edge of the portrait and flopped down disconsolately on top of a large pile of gold.

Hermione turned to her friends, who gazed at her with varying degrees of consternation and worry. "Go on to class," said Hermione. "I'll be fine." She turned to the younger students. "You all have the poem to get out?"

Sophie gulped and raised her hand. Hermione grimaced inwardly. That explained how Professor Snape got into the portrait.

"Never mind," said Melinda impatiently. "You can use mine. I don't need it anymore."

The students removed the armor they had borrowed from Smaug, and William even haltingly thanked the dragon for letting him borrow it. The dragon snorted hot steam from his nose, but he was clearly pleased.

When Ron had helped the last of the students back to the library, he rejoined Hermione in Smaug's cave. "Be careful. You know it makes me nervous when you go gallivanting around in the paintings like this."

"I'm not gallivanting," she protested. "And the paintings aren't that bad. You just need to know a bit about them before you go in."

Ron snorted. "Or have Hogwarts: An Art History memorized cover to cover. Blane says Snape followed you in last night."

"I figured. He probably found Sophie's copy of the poem and used it to get in."

"What do you think Snape will do about our hiding place?"

"I have no idea, and trying to sort out his loyalties makes my head hurt. Right now, I just need to focus on finding him before he gets into any more trouble."

"The man was a Death Eater and a spy, Hermione. What could he possibly find here that he couldn't handle?'

Hermione looked at him skeptically. "Did Master Blane say anything else about Snape?"

"Now that you mention it, he did rave about what he'd do to Snape if he ever returned to his portrait."

"So immediately upon entering, Professor Snape seriously disturbed two of the paintings whose discretion and cooperation we require for our plan to work. I agree that he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but we're the ones that need to maintain good relationships with the paintings. I need to get him out of here for the paintings' sakes as well as our own."

"Good point. The man could spoil ale with a glare, and that could cause a riot with the monks or the Merry Men. D'you think you could you keep him in the portraits until afternoon Potions classes?"

Hermione grinned at her friend. "I'll see what I can do."

Ron disappeared through the edge of the portrait with a wink.

Hermione climbed up on Smaug, who had rolled on his back.

"All right, Smaug," she said with mock severity, "tell me everything you remember about the man, and which way he went."

"Start scratching," ordered the dragon. "Then I'll talk."