Storm Clouds

Questions & Answers

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

"Can I please get up now, Madame Pomfrey? I'm fine, I swear."

The Hogwarts nurse pressed another piece of chocolate into Harry's hand. "Eat that, and then you can get up." She shook her head. "I honestly don't know about you, Mister Potter. Whenever there is trouble you always seem to be at the center of it."

"I don't do it on purpose," Harry mumbled around his mouthful of chocolate. He swallowed quickly. "Can I please go now?"

Madame Pomfrey checked his shoulder one last time before reluctantly nodding. Harry all but bounced up from the bed before the nurse could change her mind. His exuberance at his release was checked, however, when he walked around the curtain and came face to face with the rest of the ward.

Every bed was full. The injured Hogsmeade residents had been brought to the school for attention, and they filled most of the wing. A curtained off section of eight beds was occupied by the students who had been unable to withstand the presence of the dementors. Harry could see Pansy Parkinson's blonde hair on one of the pillows, and without waiting for permission from the nurse he approached the bed.

He was a step or two away when Pansy stirred and opened her eyes. She looked confused for a moment, then her gaze settled on Harry. He smiled and handed her a Chocolate Frog that he had in his hand.

"Here. I know its not much, but it's a start. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey will be over soon to feed you more"

Pansy shivered slightly and took the candy. "Thanks," she said. Her hands were shaking as she unwrapped it. Harry took it from her and carefully removed the wrapping, glancing at the wizard card as he did so.

"Here," he said, handing the frog and the card to Pansy. "Its Slytherin. You may want it."

Pansy shook her head and swallowed her mouthful of chocolate. "No thanks," she said with a shudder. "That is the last thing I need." She glanced up and met Harry's eyes. "What happened?" she asked, her brow knit. "The last thing I remember is falling to my knees because of those dementors."

"You almost got kissed," Harry replied, careful to not skirt the subject. He had learned, through hard experience, that the truth oftentimes hurt less than one's worst imaginings. No matter how harsh it seemed, the truth could at least be fought and defeated. Lies were like mist, and just as difficult to vanquish.

Pansy blanched, but her voice was strong. "What were dementors doing in Hogsmeade?" She shook her head. "Its so odd. . ."

"Not really. They were there in the company of three Death Eaters."

Pansy's mouth gaped open for several seconds. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. "D. . . D. . . Death Eaters? But that's. . ."

"Impossible?" Harry asked, his voice harsh. He was suddenly caught by memories of Pansy in the company of Draco Malfoy. "They'll be appearing more and more in the future. Those three, and others like them. Your friends."

Her lips tightened in a grimace as a flush rose on her cheeks. "Not my friends," she declared, her voice heated. "My father is a mediwizard, remember? Someone who saves lives. He doesn't take them."

There really wasn't any response to make to that, so Harry stayed quiet, letting his silence acknowledge the truth of Pansy's statement. He also felt somewhat chastened, and didn't trust himself to speak.

"What stopped the dementors?" Pansy asked suddenly, as if the question had only just occurred to her.

"I did," Harry blandly stated. "With the help of some townspeople and a Patronus."

"Don't tell me, let me guess. That famous Gryffindor sense of honour demanded that you save everyone, even a worthless Slytherin like me."

Stung by her words, Harry turned away. "If that's your attitude I may live to regret helping you. Besides, I didn't save anybody; Professor Griffith did. She disarmed the Death Eaters and sent them running scared, and she destroyed the dementors. If you want to show contempt for a Gryffindor it had best be her." He started to walk away.

"Harry?"

He stopped walking but didn't turn around.

"Thank you."

His shoulders relaxed and he took a deep breath. "You're welcome."

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

Back in Gryffindor Tower Harry was greeted with subdued voices. Some students were still in the hospital wing, recovering from the day's events. Those that were in the common room were silent and almost mournful. Harry took a seat on the sofa beside Ginny, who was pretending to study.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, closing her book and setting it on the floor. "They just brought Professor Griffith in. She's unconscious and looks terrible. Professor McGonagall is with her. Professor Lupin and Professor Snape as well." Ginny swallowed hard and blinked rapidly. "I hope she'll be all right."

Professor Snape?, Harry thought to himself. The Potions Master was notoriously anti-Gryffindor, so for him to show concern under the circumstances was odd. But there was a more pressing question on his mind, and it too dealt with Professor Griffith.

"Ginny," he began, "you saw it, didn't you. In Hogsmeade."

"You mean what Morgan did? Wandless magic and. . . ." Ginny's voice trailed off and she glanced about.

"That phoenix?" Harry asked. "So I didn't imagine it, or hallucinate it. But how?"

"An Animagus?" Ginny asked. "It'd be the most logical explanation."

Harry shook his head in negation. "There's no record of a phoenix on the animagi lists. If she is its illegal and unregistered, and I can't imagine Morgan being in that position."

"Well, what then?" Ginny asked, sounding exasperated. "We don't even know for sure if that phoenix was Morgan. Its just speculation."

"Not with those eyes it isn't." Harry stood up and moved to lean against the mantle, staring into the flames. "And what about the dementors? That was powerful magic that destroyed them."

"Powerful magic that also spontaneously turned our History of Magic professor into a phoenix?" Ginny rolled her eyes. "Look, Harry. You may be a year ahead of me, but I get my best marks in Transfiguration. Unless a spell is cast from outside only the Animagus transformation can account for what we think happened. Are you suggesting that one of the dementors performed a spell that caused their destruction?"

"You're right; I know you are." He sighed and turned his back to the fire. "I just have a feeling that there's more to what happened then we know. Something Morgan said to me about questions being answered when the time comes."

"You think it has something to do with Voldemort, don't you? I mean besides the obvious of Death Eaters and dementors. Something to do with fighting against him?"

"It would seem to be a logical explanation. Not the only one, mind." Harry grinned and sat back down beside Ginny. He glanced around the common room for the first time since his arrival. "Where are Ron and Hermione? I'd expect them to be right here with us, speculating away."

"I don't know." Ginny shrugged. "They were released from the hospital wing when I was, but they didn't come back to the tower. Strange."

"Perhaps not." He waggled his eyebrows at Ginny. "Think they've finally figured it out?"

Ginny giggled. "And are even now kissing in some secluded corridor? Or, even better, in the Astronomy Tower?"

"Or the Owlery."

Ginny laughed harder, but quickly sobered when the door to Morgan's room opened. Professor McGonagall emerged, her face tight with concern. Harry remembered what Morgan had said in their first History of Magic class about having been a Gryffindor herself, and wondered how close she had been to the Head of House.

All the students in the common room abandoned whatever they were doing, or pretending to do, and turned their attention to McGonagall. She cleared her throat.

"Professor Griffith will make a full recovery." A sigh rippled through the gathered students. "However, it will take some time, and I expect all of you to extend to her all due consideration. In the meantime Professor Lupin will assume the duties as Deputy Head of Gryffindor House. Also, please note that all future Hogsmeade visits have been cancelled."

It was a measure of how shaken the entire house was that not one voice protested this. Harry was sure that many would willingly forego visiting Hogsmeade for the rest of their lives. He felt that way himself.

"Professor?" a tentative voice spoke from the stairs.

"Yes, Mister Thomas?"

"What happened, exactly?"

Professor McGonagall sighed and adjusted her glasses. Her voice caught when she spoke. "As soon as the staff knows what it was we'll be letting the students know. That's all I can say for now."

Professor Snape emerged from Morgan's rooms just then. Harry was surprised to see him looking so pale; his ordinarily sallow complexion had faded, leaving his white skin to make a startling contrast to his black robes. He tapped Professor McGonagall on the shoulder and they conversed for a moment in low voices. With a last nod Snape slipped out through the portrait hole. Professor McGonagall followed.

Lupin entered the common room from Morgan's office and a storm of chatter erupted. Everyone seemed to want to ask his or her question first. Lupin held up his hands and waited for quiet.

"I haven't any answers," he said in his soft voice. "So it'd be best if you didn't even ask the questions." He pushed his gray-flecked hair from his face. "What happened today was completely unexpected, and not without loss." He seemed to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment before straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. "It'll be time for dinner soon," he reminded the gathered students. "I expect all of you to return to the common room immediately after the meal. If you need to go to the library for anything you may ask me then." He looked around the room. "I want all of you to stay smart and stay safe."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine, and he glanced around at his housemates. This was it, what he had been dreading since the end of the previous term. Voldemort had caught them all unawares, and now it was just a matter of time before he struck again.

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

It was until two days later that The Daily Prophet carried a story about the attack on Hogsmeade. The front page that day featured a fairy tale-esque photo of the village covered in a blanket of snow. Smoke could be seen rising from the chimneys. It looked like an idyllic place; the last place in the world anyone would expect to be attacked.

But the article did not contain a single word about who had done the attacking.

Harry went back to the beginning and read it again, carefully. Certain phrases jumped out at him. Surprising event. . . threat to Hogwarts' students. . . unconfirmed rumours of at least one death. . . mysterious motives. . . unknown attackers. . . He snorted in disgust and threw the paper across the common room.

"All news is bad news?" Fred asked as he took the chair across from Harry.

"Something like that."

George gave Harry's abandoned paper a scathing look as he approached. "It's the same load of tripe they've been printing all summer. Never anything about You-Know-Who, no mention of Death Eater activities, nothing. I think the Ministry has clamped a lid on them."

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "We all saw Fudge's reaction the night of the Third Task. He thinks Harry's a nutter and wouldn't believe him for all the galleons in Gringotts."

"Thanks Fred. That makes me feel so much better," Harry grumbled.

"Reality, mate. Get used to it."

Ginny walked up then and flopped down into the chair between her brothers with a sigh.

"What's up?" Fred asked.

"Professor Griffith is still unconscious," Ginny replied. "Madame Pomfrey insists she's fine, so why hasn't she woken up?"

No one had an answer to that, so all four of them stared gloomily at the door leading to Morgan's rooms. The depressed atmosphere that had settled in the aftermath still lingered; conversations took place in lowered voices and no one was playing Exploding Snap. It felt unnatural. Snatches of conversation could be heard, and it all revolved around what had happened in Hogsmeade. Harry found the quiet to be almost oppressive; without a word he stood and made his way to the portrait hole.

"Harry?" he heard Ginny's voice call behind him.

"I need some fresh air," he replied, his voice brusque. "I'm going for a walk."

"Do you want. . ." Ginny began.

"NO!" he replied, anticipating her question. "I'll be fine."

Harry was still pacing the grounds an hour later when Professor Lupin approached. He looked pale and slightly ill, and with a jolt Harry remembered that the full moon was only two days away.

Lupin stopped a few paces away and watched Harry come closer. It never ceased to amaze him how like his father he was physically; the dark hair, the glasses, the slender build. He had very little of James' personality, however. True, he did have a mischievous streak, but it was nowhere near as wide as Prongs'. Rather he had a serene quality that was very like his mother; a calmness and quiet that spread to others around him.

And he's not even aware of it, Lupin thought. He doesn't even realize that that is what truly makes him special.

Lupin shook himself from his thoughts to find Harry standing before him, an expectant look on his face. He wasted no time. "Morgan has regained consciousness," he said, then held up a hand when Harry tried to speak. "She wants to see you."

"What about?"

Lupin shook his head. "Its best not to ask those questions right now, Harry. You'll get your answers when the time is right."

Harry felt anger rising in his chest. "Yeah, that's what she said," he said, his voice tight. "That's what everyone says."

"Because it's the truth. You have to trust us at some point." Lupin glanced sideways at Harry as they made their way back toward the castle. The bubbling anger was visible in Harry's eyes, so he took a chance on telling him a bit more. "You'll get some of the answers you want from Morgan right now. She knows that there's little point in secrecy after what happened two days ago."

Harry stopped walking. "Then it was real? She did transform into that phoenix?"

Lupin sighed. "Yes. And that's all I can tell you. The rest needs to come from her." He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently nudged him back into motion.

Harry started walking again, his mind spinning. So the phoenix had been real, and it had been Morgan. And he was about to get some answers to his many questions. Maybe not all of them, but enough. He had a strange feeling. . . .

"Professor, did Morgan know my parents?"

Lupin clenched his jaw so tightly that Harry could see a muscle jump in his cheek. His lips were tightened into the flattest line imaginable, as if he were trying to keep from speaking. Harry waited, certain that he would get an answer, and equally certain that it would be the truth.

"Yes, she did," Lupin replied curtly. "And that's the last of what I'll tell you." They had reached the great double doors of the entrance. "Go on," he said with a nod.

Harry entered the castle and made his way to Gryffindor Tower. As he approached the end of the hall and the portrait of the Fat Lady she let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks heaven!" she exclaimed. "Its absolute bedlam in there!"

"Why? What's going on?"

"Everyone wanting to see for themselves that Professor Griffith is all right." The fat Lady shook her head and a small smile curved her lips. "She has a knack for making herself liked, does Morgan. I remember her as a student. . ." Her voice died away and a dreamy expression came over her face. She just as quickly shook herself from the memories. "Well, what are you waiting for, Potter? Password?"

"Treacle Tart."

The portrait swung open and Harry was met with a rush of voices. It was startling, especially after the silence that had reigned in the tower for the last forty-eight hours. Harry pushed his way through the crowd toward where he could see Ron sitting by the fire, Hermione beside him. They were bent over a parchment, reading and conversing in low tones.

"What's up?"

The pair jumped, and Ron hastily rolled up the scroll and stuffed it in a pocket of his robes. "Nothing, mate. Just boring prefect stuff." He glanced around. "Good thing you're back. She wants to talk to you."

Harry nodded. "Lupin told me." Ron stood and together they worked their way across the room. "Any idea why she so specifically wants to talk to me?"

"None. But she won't see anybody else, not even any of the prefects. Professor McGonagall is with her now." They had made it to the door, and Ron gave it an emphatic knock. McGonagall opened the door and with barely a glance for Ron pulled Harry inside. She returned to her seat beside the fire, indicating that Harry was to enter the bedroom.

He did so, slowly and not without some fear. He was confused as to why Morgan was so insistent on speaking to him above and beyond anyone else. Yet buried in his mind was a feeling that he was about to learn some answers. Why he felt that way he couldn't explain, but the feeling was strong.

Harry stopped about three paces inside the room, however, shocked and dismayed. Morgan looked terrible; her face was pale and pinched looking, her eyes sunken. And, oddly enough, her hair was no longer dark, but grey, with a strange metallic sheen to it. Even as he stared Morgan lifted a hand and pushed it away from her face.

"That's the part about this that I hate the most," she said, her voice shaky. "It always takes at least three days for my hair to get back to normal."

"Get back to normal after what?"

She gave Harry a look that spoke volumes. "Don't be obtuse, Harry. Even worse, don't pretend to be ignorant. You saw it, and you drew the correct conclusion."

Harry approached the bed and sank into the straight-backed chair beside it. "I'm not the only one who figured it out." When Morgan gave him a questioning glance he elaborated. "Ginny Weasley knows as well."

Morgan's expression turned grim. "Ginny is not involved in this. Not yet, at any rate."

Harry chose to ignore that cryptic comment. "Why did you want to see me, Professor? And why so urgently?"

"I need your help, Harry. I need someone I can trust, someone who believes in fighting Voldemort in any way possible. I believe that someone is you."

"Help with what?" Harry asked, feeling a bubble of curiosity well inside of him.

"I can't answer that completely right now, but rest assured I will before this week is out. I'll be recruiting more help in the next day or two, but I particularly wanted your help."

"Why? Why me, so especially? There are others, I'm sure much better suited. Like the staff, or even some of the older students. Why am I at the top of your list?"

Morgan blushed slightly and lowered her eyes. "The answer to that brings up a whole host of other questions, but I'll give it to you anyway." She took a deep breath and met his eyes. "I wanted you specifically because I thought you wouldn't mind helping me out, nephew to aunt."

It felt like the bottom fell out of Harry's world, and all he heard was a ringing echo of her last words. He shook his head violently, trying to jumpstart his brain.

"What?" was the only response he could muster.

"Nephew to aunt," Morgan repeated. "I was born Morgan Griffith Potter. James Potter was my brother."