Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

Chapter Eleven: A (Mostly) Red Letter Day

Harry woke with a terrible start on a particularly dreary gray morning: the clock read half past eight and Sirius was scheduled to arrive at nine! He jumped out of bed and ran to Dudley's room, pounding on the door.

"Dudley! It's nearly nine o' clock! We've overslept!"

The door slowly creaked open to reveal a very pale faced Dudley.

"Not me, mate-- I've been up all night in the bloody loo."

Harry's heart sank. "Dudley, you look terrible!"

"Thanks."

Harry was silent and then the horrible realization swept over him. "B-but Dudley, we c-can't go without you!"

Dudley forced a smile. "No, really, I don't want to ruin your day-- everyone is so looking forward to it. And I'll just be puking over everyone."

Harry was shaking his head, his eyes scouring over Dudley's at-deaths-door appearance.

"What is it, the flu?"

"Among other things, aye. Namely I think Mum's pudding from last night has most to do with it."

"Oh Dudley - but this day is partly for you."

Dudley nodded. "Aye, I know. But don't worry Harry, there's always next time."

Harry grimaced, not pleased with that answer but was forced to reply, "Yeah . . . that's true . . ."

Dudley crept to his bed and collapsed on top of it, pulling the covers tightly over him and closed his eyes. Harry stood in the doorway, feeling the need to do something.

"Need anything? Tea or maybe a bit of breakfast--"

"You mention anymore food and I'm going to puke all over you, Harry."

Harry smiled softly and leaned against the doorway. "Point taken . . . er . . . if I was allowed to use magic outside school I'd brew you a potion that would clear that right up."

"That's nice cousin," came Dudley's muffled voice from beneath the covers. "Listen Harry, I don't mean to be rude, but . . ."

"Yeah, okay, I'm goin'. We'll be thinkin' about you today, Dudley." Harry closed the door softly behind him, shaking his head at his poor cousin's condition.

Harry took a very quick shower, not bothering to properly dry his hair (as though it mattered with his always unruly hair) and threw on his favorite gray jumper, pulled on a pair of black slacks (tucking his wand in carefully) and he took out a black robe from his suitcase and tucked it under his arm.

He flew downstairs to find Vernon and Petunia parked in front of the television, having tea and munching on digestives.

"Only a society of freaky little monsters like yours would hold a sporting event on Boxing Day," said Vernon through a mouthful of the biscuits.

"Not true," said Harry, "There's lots of--"

"Where's Dudley?" Petunia demanded.

"Oh. He's upstairs ill."

Petunia was so startled by this that she nearly knocked her cup and saucer to the floor. "Ill? Why? What did you do to him?"

Harry narrowed his brow. "Your Christmas pudding gave him food poisoning."

Vernon's face was growing red. "How dare you lie to your Aunt! Why, I should march your bony arse upstairs and wash your mouth out with some soap--that would teach you to mind your manners you ungrateful, vicious little--"

"So my Godfather hasn't arrived yet, has he?" Harry said loudly, knowing it was just the ticket to shut him up.

In response Vernon stuffed another digestive into his mouth and turned his focus back on the television set. Petunia didn't say anything, but her killer glare was speaking volumes.

I wonder what she's thinking of--probably me on the rack. Or maybe me tied to a railroad track. . .

A doorbell ring interrupted both their thoughts and Harry leapt for the door. He pulled it open and found Sirius (well, Professor Gray anyway) standing tall and beaming boldly. And to Harry's even greater shock, Remus Lupin was standing at his side!

"Sirius!" cried Harry, "Remus! Oh! Come in!"

They did so, Sirius looking quite handsome with his smile plastered across his face and Remus sporting a smile every bit as bright. They both looked fantastic: Sirius wasn't even a shadow of the alarmingly emaciated shell he once was, but looked healthy and strong. Likewise, Remus was not as emaciated and pale as he was at other times of the month, but energetic and vibrant.

"All right Harry," asked Lupin.

"All right, yeah," said Harry, "What are you doing here!"

"Well, when Sirius told me about the match I told him that I wanted to go as well! So here I am!"

"Oh I'm glad," said Harry. "This is fantastic!"

Sirius laughed, "I knew you'd be pleased." He turned to the Dursley's and bowed respectfully. "Good Day Mr. Dursley. Mrs. Dursley. I trust you're all doing well?"

Vernon turned up the volume on the television.

Sirius and Lupin were dressed in relatively Muggle clothing as they'd intended to take the train in to London, and Harry couldn't help but be surprise at how young they both seemed! Even with Sirius' "Professor Gray" moustache and spectacles, and Lupin's gray hairs that were quite visible above his ears, as the two old friends stood there smiling boldly in the bright morning light, it was as though they were at least ten years younger.

"Well? What do you think?" asked Sirius, spreading out his arms, "I should blend in on the train, don't you think?"

Harry smiled, "Oh yeah, the clothes are great! Only, there's been a change of plans. Dudley's taken sick and he can't come with today."

Sirius' smile faltered. "Oh . . . I see. He's all right, isn't he?"

"Oh he'll be fine. It was--" Harry paused and saw that Petunia was staring him down. "Er . . . it was just something he ate, that's all. Shall we?"

Sirius smiled again, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, let's." He turned to the Dursleys. "Don't you two worry. Harry will be perfectly safe."

"Bye," Harry said quickly as he hurried out the front door, Sirius and Lupin close behind him.

Harry felt an enormous freedom the minute the door clicked closed behind them. He walked with his head held high, proud to be with two of the most important people in his life.

"Well," said Sirius, tugging at the back of his hair thoughtfully, "since Dudley's not coming there's no reason to take the train, really. . ."

Lupin laughed, "Yes, but of course neither of us brought Floo Powder. I brought a bit of Muggle money, but no Floo Powder."

"Brilliant."

Harry laughed, "Oh, it'll be fine. It's fun, actually, the train. And Sophie's going to be waiting for us at the station anyway."

"Ah," said Professor Lupin, "Sophie. Can't wait to see her again. Of course, Sirius has told me all about her and you."

Harry blushed. "I'm sure he has!"

"Come on then, let's have it all straight from the horse's mouth, as they say," Lupin urged.

"Nothing to say really--"

"Nonsense," said Remus, nudging his elbow at Harry's arm. "I know it may not seem like it, but Sirius and I were once sixteen years old too, you know."

Harry laughed. "I can only imagine what mischief the two of you got up to at Hogwarts."

"Now Harry, really. You don't think that the Marauders were anything other than studious, law-abiding, model students, do you?"

Sirius coughed. "Well, Remus was, but as for the rest of us . . ."

Harry was laughing. "Well, I've guessed you were called "Marauders" for a reason."

Sirius was beaming. "Several, actually."

*

As promised, Sophie was waiting for them at Waterloo Station. She was disenchanted to learn of Dudley's illness, but was delighted to see Remus Lupin again. Sirius was rather uncomfortable by the crowds of people on the underground, but Remus was looking about wide-eyed and bushy tailed.

"Can you believe it," he was saying to Sirius, "I'm forty-two years old and this is my first time on the Muggle Underground! Intricate, isn't it?"

"Rather." Said Sirius in agreement.

They pushed their way out of the Underground, and Sophie led the company up that familiar steep incline up to Almond Grove.

"I s-say, Miss B-Banbury," Remus was puffing, "are you tr-trying to kill us?"

"Sorry," said Sophie as she unlocked their front door, "I think that's why we got the house at such a great price!"

The home was deliciously warm and Sophie called out for her father who came happily trekking down the stairs.

"Dad, this is. . . er, Professor Gray, and this is Mr. Remus Lupin."

Mr. Banbury shook Remus' hand, "Delighted. Both of you are Hogwarts professors?"

"We both were Hogwarts Professors," said Remus. "I taught there three years ago, and Professor Gray here actually left this past term."

Roger took hold of Sirius' hand, "Well, a Hogwarts professor is always welcome in my home."

"That's kind of you to say," said Sirius.

Roger raised his brow. "You know . . . you look familiar. Have we met?"

"Er . . . it's possible . . ."

"Were you . . . acquainted with my late wife Imelda?"

"Yes-- in my youth."

"I see. . ." said Roger quietly, a dark cloud coming over him and then, just as quickly, he'd brushed the cloud away and rubbed his hands together. "Well, I'm glad to know you two will be with the kids today. Mr. Dumbledore thinks of everything, doesn't he?"

"Indeed."

The Banbury's fireplace erupted. It was precisely 12 noon and Hermione and Ron emerged from the smoke. Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped him: Ron looked like a misshapen orange. He was draped in the bright orange Chudley Canon colors: a deep orange robe and a long bright orange jersey with "#22" written in big white letters. His face was even painted with orange paint, the same numbers painted in florescent orange on both cheeks.

Hermione appeared quite irritated.

"Number twenty-two?" Harry asked, still laughing.

"Aye--that was Weatherby Sr.'s number. Payin' my respects, you know?"

"Harry, would you be so kind as to inform your friend Ronald that he looks an orange that's been left in the sun to wilt and die?"

Ron folded his arms, "I don't care, Hermione. This is a big moment in my life--I have to show my true colors."

"Yes, but do they have to be electric orange?"

"What's it to you anyway?"

"I have to be seen with you, that's what!"

"Everyone else is gonna be dressed the same way! Honestly, you're such a girl sometimes."

"All right you two," said Sirius, interrupting the two before all hell broke loose. "Why don't we just get started?" He turned to Roger. "Nice meeting you, Mr. Banbury. We'll have them back at a decent hour."

Harry's stomach was twisting in excitement as Sophie opened her vase of Floo Powder.

"Have the directions, Ron?" he asked as he threw his traveling robe around him, fastening it with eager fingers. Sirius and Remus had done the same thing.

Ron pulled out a very small, very thick leather-bound book that Harry recognized as the Floo Network directory.

"It's a new one," said Harry, "borrowing it from Dad. Now the network is updated every fifteen minutes, isn't that cool?"

Harry smiled and before his eyes an address beneath the name "Hollingsbeet, Mildred" disappeared and then reappeared with an updated address. Very cool. Ron flipped until he found the heading 'Devon Quidditch Stadium - Alder Road, Chudley. Use the Witch's Wart Pub fireplace--* Upper Floor Only *!'

"Hmm," said Ron, "looks like it'll be a bit of a walk from the Pub to the stadium. Oh well, we can ask the bartender for directions."

"You've never been to the stadium, then?" asked Sophie.

Ron looked surprised at her. "Well . . . naturally, no, not this one. You know how it is with Wizarding stadiums, Sophie. They're never in the same place twice--every match is at a different location, you know, to keep from drawing attention from Muggles. The Ministry's department of Magical Sports and Gaming sees to all that."

Sophie's cheeks flushed. She'd apparently not known that. "R-right. Well, let's go!"

*

Hot soot was building up in his lungs, and he fell into a spasm of desperate, heaving coughs. He pulled his sleeve to his mouth, coughing into it violently, but the dust on his sleeves flew up his nose making things even worse!

Harry had forgotten just how much he despised Floo Powder.

"All right, mate?"

From the cloud of black and dark green that surrounded him, he saw a distorted image of something tall, gangly and fire orange.

"Brilliant," he managed to say through his wheezes.

Ron Weasley's hands grabbed hold of Harry's arms and pulled him up to his feet. The air was clearer up there and Harry immediately began to feel better.

"Thanks, mate."

Ron, Hermione, Sophie, Sirius and Remus were all standing in a group, dusting each other off. They were in a rather large room with high Tudor ceilings and ancient wood floors that creaked with every movement.

Sophie was at once at Harry's side. She smiled and reached up to his face, wiping some of the soot from his cheeks. "Harry, Harry, Harry. What am I gonna do with you?"

"I really don't want to know," said Ron with a smirk, "Come on, let's get goin'!"

They followed Ron out of the room and down a very narrow staircase that opened at the bottom into a compact pub crammed with patrons whose faces were barely visible through the heavy cigar and cigarette smoke.

"Don't see anyone dressed in orange, Ron," Hermione happily mused.

"They're probably Ballycastle fans," said Ron with disgust.

Sirius approached the bartender and came back shortly thereafter, "Right then, everyone follow me."

They left the pub and stepped out onto a quaint country village road. Snow crowned the top of the pub and was gathered along the sides of the unpaved road. The pub was really the only building on the road, expect for four or five other half-timbered buildings further along down the road. The sky was overcast and Harry pulled his robes around him tightly for warmth: there was a chilling wind on the street and it made the already cold temperatures seem positively freezing!

"Welcome to Chudley," said Remus as they began their walk down the slightly muddy road. "It's quite a sparse Wizarding settlement."

"What are all those buildings then, way off in the distance?"

"Oh," said Remus with a smile, "that's the other Chudley--the Muggle town. Spelled differently, though: c-h-u-d-l-i-e-g-h. The other team playing today, Ballycastle, is a much larger settlement."

Ron snorted. "Prima donnas. All of 'em. Bloody prima donnas."

"Miss Banbury?" asked Sirius, who was walking at quite a quick pace, staring straight ahead of him.

"Yeah?"

"What . . .exactly is it your father does for work?"

"Oh. . . he's a police officer with Scotland Yard."

Sirius' expression was perfectly unreadable. He said nothing for quite some time and when he did, it was to change the subject around completely. "I'm putting five Galleons on the Ballycastle Bats. Any takers?"

Harry wanted to know what was turning in his Godfather's brain, but instead found himself putting five Galleons on the Chudley Canons.

The stadium was a lot larger than Harry had anticipated. Of course, it was practically a miniature in comparison to the stadium that had been set up for the World Cup, but it was considerably larger than the Hogwarts stands, to be sure.

Stepping into the stadium, they found it was obviously divided: one one side, the patrons all wore black and green, on the other side the patrons sported bright orange gear. Only one problem . . .

"Hermione! You got tickets in the bloody Ballycastle Bats section!"

They were standing at their assigned seats, which were directly in the center of the Ballycastle section. Ron was fuming. Hermione was visibly embarrassed by this fact, but stood up for herself.

"Well, when I bought the tickets the man didn't ask anything about team preference--"

"That's because you're supposed to tell him which side you want to be on! Everyone knows that!"

"What, like I buy Quidditch tickets all the time? I'd never done it before, Ron!"

"I can't believe this! I can't sit here!"

There were chuckles from the fans surrounding them, all decked out in Ballycastle colors and face paint.

"Aww," said a plump, rosy cheeked boy with Barney the Fruitbat smiling on his jumper, "what, you scared to sit here mate? 'Fraid of the Crappy Canons loosing?"

Ron's fists clenched. "I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Of course not," the boy said smugly. He was sitting directly behind them, munching happily on a bag of Bertie Botts. "Don't worry mate, we'll be gentle. We won't let you loose too badly."

Ron took a giant step towards to boy and Harry had to grab him to hold him back. "C'mon Ron, none of that, all right?"

"Ooohhh," the boy said--he was laughing heartily now, as were most of the people around him. "Oh, what, so your girlfriend has to protect me from you? How sweet."

Harry stared at the boy, a rush of anger flooding him. Without thinking Harry found himself now taking a giant step towards the boy.

"Right, Batboy, it's gonna be a long game, so let's have it understood right now---"

"Oy! Harry!"

Harry looked up from the boy to see a familiar face smiling at him three rows up. Harry at once forgot about Batboy entirely. "Oliver! Oliver Wood?"

It certainly was! Oliver Wood, all smiles, came bouncing down to meet Harry. Not having seen Oliver in two years, Harry was surprised at how, well grown up he looked! Wood had always been burly, but the two years since graduation had done him well and his physical presence was just as impressive as it had always been.

"I thought it was you! I said to myself 'Blimey, isn't that Harry Potter?' And it is you! And Ron, Hermione, and . . . Professor Lupin? Well this is a surprise!"

Harry shook Oliver's hand heartily, more than casually aware that batboy's face had paled when Wood said the words "Harry Potter" and was no longer laughing, but suddenly seemed keenly interested in reading his souvenir programme.

"It certainly is a surprise," said a soft, second voice.

Harry had been so involved with Wood that he hadn't noticed the black haired beauty at his side.

"Cho!" Harry squeaked. (Squeaking was probably not the best thing to have done in front of Sophie . . .)

Cho looked as radiant as ever, her long silky hair tied back in a blue ribbon and her almond eyes shining happily. "Fancy meetin' you here!" She grabbed his had. "All right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, you?"

"Good, thanks! And. . . Professor Gray! Professor Lupin! What are you two doing here?"

"Chaperoning," said Lupin, beaming. "Lovely to see you again, Miss Chang! And Mr. Wood! It has been much to long! Tell me, how is life after Hogwarts treating you?

Oliver talked freely about life after Hogwarts, Cho looking up at him admiringly. Harry was surprised that he hadn't even heard one whisper about the two of them seeing each other. Surely it would have been all over the school! Then again, he didn't exactly hang around Cho's close-knit circle of friends.

"Haven't seen much of you this year, Harry," said Cho, "what, you been hiding from me or something?"

Despite himself, Harry blushed--yet another something he probably shouldn't have done in front of Sophie.

"N-no," he said quickly, "just been busy. Er . . . S-Sophie, y-you know Cho, don't you? You're both in Ravenclaw."

"Yes I know," said Sophie flatly.

Harry couldn't help but notice Sophie's uncharacteristic aloofness towards Cho. Then it hit him!

Great Merlin. She's jealous!

There was a certain amount of amusement that came along with this realization. He took hold of Sophie's hand as he kept chatting with his two old friends.

"So," he said, "You and Oliver are . . ."

Cho nodded, wrapping her arm through Oliver's. "That's right!"

Harry could feel warmth return to Sophie's hand.

"Oh that's wonderful," said Hermione. "How long?"

"We've been together for about . . . well, I reckon it's been about two months," said Oliver.

"Three months," said Cho eagerly.

"Good Lord Remus," said Sirius, "It now appears that we're going to have to chaperone three couples!"

They were all interrupted by a booming thick London accent blasting across the stadium:

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Wizards of All Ages! Welcome to the United Kingdom Quidditch Quarterfinals! Today's match: our own Chudley Canons against the Ballycastle Bats!"

"ALL RIGHT," Cho shouted, waving a Barney the Fruitbat flag.

"Oh no," cried Ron, spinning around to scowl at her, "not you too!"

"Wot? He's so cute!"

"I thought you were a Tornado fan!"

"I am," said Cho with a wink, "most of the time."

Ron groaned, murmuring something that sounded a lot like 'women', but then broke out into a roar as seven orange Quidditch players took to the pitch.

He kept nudging Hermione as he narrated for her, "Oy! Look! Number sixteen! All right, Leopold Bolster! He's the keeper, you know. Bernie Olive! Number Four! ALL RIGHT THERE, BERNIE? OY! CHIP NILES! LOOKIN' GOOD, CHIP OLD BOY! He's the Seeker, 'Mione. BREWSTER NASH! NUMBER TEN! . . ."

"Is he gonna do this through the whole game," whispered Sophie.

Hermione sighed. " 'Fraid so."

Harry was laughing. He'd never seen Ron as supremely happy as he was at that moment. He was like a five-year-old let loose in a sweet shop who couldn't contain his excitement. He kept tugging at Hermione's sleeve, saying 'Oy, don't they look great? Aren't they brilliant?'

"The game hasn't even started yet, Ron--"

"Oh, but they're brilliant. Oy! Look at that! They're running a banner with #22 on it--" Ron quickly sprung to his feet and gave the banner a salute--something that had been imitated by the other Chudley canons (on the other side of the stadium, as Ron reminded Hermione once again). No sooner had Ron took his seat than he was back on his feet again: the Quaffle had been released and the game (or war, as Ron viewed it) had begun.

As far as Harry was concerned, the day was worth it for that alone. He shuddered to think what drastic measures Ron would have taken if Chudley had lost the match, so thankfully, the Canons won it!

Chip Niles caught the snitch two and half hours into the game when the score was tied one hundred ten to one hundred ten. Ron jumped to his feet as the Canon's were being taking their victory lap around the pitch--apparently he had awards of his own to hand out.

The obnoxious boy behind us was awarded a "Ha! Take that, Batboy!" Remus and Sirius received vigorous handshakes. Ron's hand messing his hair was Harry's award, and as to Hermione? A smooch on the lips so romantic that Harry could scarcely believe it was Ron! In one quick, smooth movement, he'd taken Hermione and dipped her backwards and leaned in with a deliberately slow snog that any Don Juan would have been proud of.

"Taking notes, I hope," Sophie whispered.

"Uh huh," Harry replied, still awed.

"Whoa," cried Hermione: her shining face was smudged with Ron's orange face paint. She was breathless and grabbed hold of Ron's robes. "Remind me to take you here more often!"

"You got it," said Ron, taking Hermione's hand in hers. Harry followed his lead with Sophie and they began pushing their way out of the stands with the rest of the exiting crowds. It became quickly decided that everyone in the company was absolutely famished. Sirius invited Cho and Oliver to accompany them to grab a bite at the Witch's Wart pub, which the two lovebirds happily accepted.

As expected, the Witch's Wart pub was ridiculously crowded and the company had to wait a considerable time before being able to sit down. (By that time Harry's stomach felt like it was starting to eat itself!)

"So Ron," said Remus, "Topic of conversation in Hogsmeade lately has been all about the new Weasley store."

Ron nodded, "Yeah, they're both extremely excited. So is Mum--it took her ages to get used to the idea, but I think she's rather proud of them now."

Remus nodded, "Yes. I saw the store a few weeks back. Looks lovely. Can't tell it was torched last year. When is the grand opening?"

"Twenty-fifth of Februrary." Ron smiled. "Mum's birthday."

Sirius shook his head. "I can't believe that Fred and George have such a sentimental side. . ."

"Ha! It's not their idea. Mum was adamant on the matter."

Remus laughed. "Well, the community is definitely looking forward to it. I hear the Mayor of Hogsmeade is even going to turn up?"

Ron nodded. "Aye. And Dad says that the Ministry is gonna provide security--you know, if there's a crowd."

"Nice to hear they're being careful, at least," said Sirius, making no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Cho frowned. "That's not fair, Professor Gray. The Ministry is doing all it can."

Remus shot Sirius a look that screamed 'calm down.' "Yes, love," he told Cho, "Of course."

Sirius was visibly ready to launch into another tirade against the Ministry - and if anyone had reason to complain against the system it was Sirius - but the erupting explosion was doused by an unexpected voice coming from above them.

"Why Hello again, Harry."

Harry looked up to find a tall, lanky blonde smiling down at him--and it still took him several moments to realize who it was. Having a genuine smile bestowed upon him by Rita Skeeter was a very difficult image to accept.

"R-Rita? H-hello. What are you doing here?"

Rita chuckled softly. She did look nice in her navy blue robes, but her face looked every bit as tired and drawn as it had that one day at Diagon Alley when they'd last met. "Well I should think that would be pretty obvious, Harry."

Harry found himself smiling back at her. "What, still job-hunting?"

"Alas, I've taken the day off from that today. Had to come down and support my Canons, you see."

Now, Hermione Granger had not spoken any words with Rita Skeeter since the famous bug-trapping incident. Rita's revelation of being a Canon fan had put a welcome smile on Ron's face, but Hermione remained rigid and indifferent.

"It was a brilliant game, eh Skeeter?" said Ron eagerly. "Especially when Chip caught that snitch! Did you see that? Slipped right into the palm of his hand!"

Rita was laughing. "That old gargoyle Snedden never knew what hit him!"

Ron was delighted! "Hey, why don't you join us then?"

Hermione blanched and shot Ron a look that screamed 'what-the-hell-are-you-thinking'! She did the same to Harry the minute that he suggested the same thing.

She shook her head, "Well, that's kind of you, but I've actually just eaten and was on my way out, really."

"Oh," said Harry, "I see. Just puttin' in an appearance . . ." his voice trailed off. He must have looked panicked because Sophie grabbed hold of his hand, her face worried.

"Harry? What is it?"

Tingles shot up his spine as his gaze fixed on three images behind Rita. The pub door had just opened and Harry squinted to see through the smoke. Three figures . . . all with blonde hair. . . all walking, no, gliding their way towards the dining tables. . .

"Malfoy," Harry whispered.

It was indeed. Lucius stood ever so stoically, not more than ten feet from Harry's table, surveying the pub goers, reveling in his own sea of shallow superiority. Harry had never seen Narcissa in person, but she was just as beautiful as he'd imagined--the sharp features, keen blue eyes and platinum hair that peeked out from beneath her ornate black hat--but hers was a beauty that sent chills down his spine. And of course, there was Draco. He was the same height as his mother, but carried himself exactly as his father.

But Harry didn't care about Draco, or Narcissa. . . he cared about Lucius. A man who had tried to kill him at twice within the past two years. A man who was friends with the man who killed Harry's parents. A man who was, most likely, instrumental to the five dark mark deaths.

It was only a matter of seconds until Lucius spotted Harry. And when they did . . .

Lucius' eyes widened and a thirsty sort of wantonness befell them. Harry's pulse started to race. There was a wild impulsiveness that ran through Malfoy blood and for a terrifying moment, Harry wondered if Lucius would disregard his anonymity as a death eater and take him to Voldemort right then and there. But the blood thirst appeared to subside and Lucius did not act-- and Harry knew why:

Sirius.

Sirius' eyes were fixed pointedly at Lucius, as were Remus'; with two Marauders at his side and a cafe full of eyewitnesses, who included Rita Skeeter, Lucius obviously saw the better of it.

But a Malfoy is not one who particularly avoids confrontation.

A sneer-like smile crept across Lucius' thin mouth--a face seemingly so unaccustomed to smiling.

"What a pleasant surprise Harry. And Ms. Skeeter as well." His voice was as chilling as his piercing blue eyes. "Tell me, do you work here, Ms. Skeeter?"

Rita remained silent.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Lucius, "then I guess you still haven't found a position? I can't imagine what it must feel like--not to be had by a single agency in all of Britain. Such. . . well . . . I believe the word would 'humiliation' would do, would it not?"

"Well, it certainly appears that you know more about myself than I do, Mr. Malfoy."

"Well, that happens when one's reputation precedes you. . ."

"Present company included," Rita shot back.

Harry sat straighter in his chair, absolutely beaming at Rita's slap in the face. Lucius' smile faded and he glared at the table, spun around, and ushered his family to their seats.

Rita looked quite distressed, but forced another smile at the table. "That was my queue, I'm afraid. Good night, everyone."

"Good bye, Rita," said Harry, watching her quickly exit the building with. . . pity. He was feeling sorry for Rita Skeeter.

Oliver and Cho were quite mystified at the strange quiet that had befallen the table. Remus fell into conversation with the two, trying to lighten the mood (and more specifically to keep them from asking any questions). Sirius in particular was trying his hardest to sound as normal and composed as possible, even though at that moment, nothing would have pleased him more than to slam the Malfoys with a good hex or two. Or three. . .

"A school governor and a death eater," Hermione whispered to Harry, ferocity burning in her brown eyes at the Malfoy table. "He's behind all this terror and walk about freely."

"And thinks he has the right to treat people anyway he pleases," Sophie added eagerly.

Hermoine shook her head, "I may despise Skeeter, but what Malfoy did was completely out of order."

"Bloody unbelievable," whispered Ron, "he's a complete wa--"

"Ron!" Hermione warned.

"--waste of human life," Ron finished.

Being in the same room as Lucius Malfoy was making Harry feel ill, and he looked away from the Malfoy table, concentrating on his plate of bangers and mash. His appetite, however, was suddenly gone.

"It's so unbelievably unfair."

Ron nodded and then grunted. "What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in their house."

Harry stared at Ron. "A fly on the wall?" he repeated.

"Yeah. Get to hear about all the stuff they're up to."

A fly on the wall . . . yes . . . of course . . .

"What's wrong?"

Harry smiled, "You might be on the right track, Ron."

"Sorry?"

Harry shook his head--not entirely sure even of his own thoughts. "Nothing mate. . ."

"Enough of that whispering you four," said Sirius, eyeing Harry in particular. "If you're thinking of hatching another ill-fated plot, you can forget it right now." He stood up. "Everyone ready?"

Harry tossed his napkin onto the table in happy agreement, they bade farewell to Cho and Oliver (who both assured Ron they would attend the Weasley Wheezes grand opening) and left the pub--everyone in the party eyeing the Malfoys as they passed through the dining room and ventured upstairs towards the fireplace.

*

"You're back early!" Roger Banbury was saying, happily when they arrived back through the fireplace. (Harry once again was vowing himself to never travel by floo powder if it could be at all helped. . .) "It's not even half six yet!"

"Yeah," said Ron, "the game was only two hours long."

Roger was chuckling. "You look as though you've been through quite an ordeal, Ronald!" He took a tissue and wiped a bit of the orange paint off the side of his face.

Ron blushed. "Oh . . . forgot to take that off after the game."

"Have you already eaten? I've some leftovers I can pop onto the stove . . ."

"Oh no Mr. Banbury," said Sirius graciously, "we ate before coming, thank you."

"Oh. . . well you've come from so far, there must be something I can offer you all. Tea?"

"That'd be nice," said Remus, "ta."

"Oh now Dad, really," said Sophie, shaking her head. "How boring can you get. Tea." Her eyes were beaming and Harry knew that she was cooking something in that crafty brain of hers. "I know a place where you can get the absolute creamiest cup of hot cocoa in the world. Right Dad?"

Roger apparently knew what his daughter was driving at, because he laughed. "Yes, but be realistic sweetheart. You've all been traveling all day--it's off the Temple station, isn't it?"

"It takes twenty minutes, Dad."

"Twenty-five at the least. I'm sure everyone else would much rather relax for a bit."

"Well, I'm game," said Ron happily.

"Me too," said Hermione. "Why not?"

"Count me in," said Harry.

Roger looked apprehensive still and turned to Sirius and Remus.

"Mr. Lupin? Mr. Gray?"

The two old friends thought for a moment. Finally Remus spoke up. "Lead the way, Miss Banbury."

Well, Mr. Banbury wasn't lying when he said at least twenty-five minutes. It took them half an hour to get to the Temple station. Boxing Day meant that the tubes were ridiculously crowded--especially as they passed the Covent Garden area. "London Muggles are dressing so strangely these days," was Remus' casual comment to Roger as they climbed the steps up out of the Underground and back out into the fresh, crisp (all right, freezing) night air.

Mr. Banbury and Sophie were walking arm in arm along the slick, wet pavement, four sets of shoes clicking loudly behind them. Harry was tickled at the way Remus, in particular, was looking about him with such keen interest. "Lovely architecture. I've always admired that, you know, Muggle architecture. So fascinating--I sometimes wonder why Wizardkind has never been as attentive to such things."

"Aye, well, all I have to say is this better be a damn impressive cup of cocoa, Sophie," said Ron. No sooner had the words left his lips than they ducked down a tiny alleyway and turned a corner-- a burst of fantastic bright white light meeting them. Before them lay a sprawling piece of Georgian splendor lit by stunning up lights. And in front of the beautiful building were swarms of Muggles, all bundled up in thick coats-- walking in circles? No, they were gliding in circles. They were . . .

"Ice Skating?" Harry asked quietly.

Sophie's face was alight with excitement. "Yes. Mum and Dad took me here to the Somerset House every single Boxing Day of my life for as far back as I can remember. And that man's cart right there serves the absolute best hot cocoa in the world."

"Well," said Roger, "at least in London, anyway."

The company descended upon the white cart from which delicious aromas were seeping. The short, funny looking vendor smiled as Sophie asked for 'six hot cocoas, please.'

"O' course, luv!"

Mr. Banbury and Sirius engaged in a half a minute battle of who was going to pay for the cocoas (it cost eighteen pounds!) and they finally agreed to split the cost. Sophie watched eagerly as Harry took a sip--it certainly was creamy and it soothed as it warmed him up inside. He gave her his wink of approval.

"Mmm. Not bad," said Ron, "dunno if it's worth a thirty minute ride. . ."

"You'll appreciate it much more once you take a couple spins."

Ron laughed. "Right. You actually want me to get on one of those things? No thank you."

"Yeah," said Harry, "have you seen the size of his feet?"

Ron stared at Harry, reddening, as the rest of the company laughed.

"Well, I bet that Harry will, won't you Harry?" implored Sophie.

"That's not fair," said Ron, still sulking, "Harry would do anything you asked him to."

"Don't sound so repulsed by that concept, Weasley," said Hermione warningly. "Come on Sophie, I haven't done this in ages!"

Sophie and Hermione took their lads by their sleeves and pulled them towards the rental booth. Harry pulled out his Muggle money and paid for the lot, and he turned to see Mr. Banbury, Sirius and Lupin standing behind them, laughing.

"You two--"

"Not tonight," said Sirius, still laughing. "I think we'll opt for being sticks in the mud, if you don't mind."

Harry laced up his skates with relative ease. Ron, however, wasn't so deft with the laces, and when he'd accidentally tied both skates together, Hermione was at once on her knees to lace them for him. "Honestly," she was scolding through her laughter, "you're hopeless, Ron. . ."

Sophie pulled Harry to his feet, which felt extremely uneasy, and grabbed onto her hands tightly. Ron had both his hands outstretched, flapping his arms like a bird, trying to balance himself.

"Come on Ron," Sophie chided, "you're a beater, aren't you? That takes more balance than these things. . ."

"I don't see how Muggles get any pleasure out of this," he said grimly, remaining perfectly still, trying to keep his balance.

"But it's fun!"

"It's suicide!"

Hermione put her arm about his waist. "Oh, come on you big baby. Follow my lead, all right?"

Sophie copied Hermione's move, and Harry's insides quivered at the feeling of her arm pulling his torso in closer to hers. His knees nearly went from under him.

"Whoa there, careful," she said.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I've . . . never actually done this before." He inwardly scolded himself for acting so naff, and then the two of them pushed off with their right skate at the same time. His strides were short and uneven, and he knew that Sophie was wishing they were swirling in the fancy circles like the couples whizzing past them, but she kept her smile bright.

"Very good. Not bad at all for a first timer."

"You're a fantastic liar."

"No, I mean it! My first time I was down on my bum all night." She laughed. "Like that!" She was pointing at Ron who was on the ice, spread eagle, with a spray of brown hair under him. With a great heave, Hermione pushed his body from off her.

"Right," said Ron, "this is rubbish, I'm not--"

"Oh yes you are Ronald Weasley," said Hermione, grabbing his arm forcefully. "We'll try it again. Ready?"

Harry and Sophie were laughing as Hermione held Ron tightly, not about to let him get away. Ron threw a look of pleading at Harry, who merely shrugged.

"Looking great, mate!" he shouted at him over the noise of the fellow skaters. But no sooner had the words left his lips than something ran smack into his back, sending him flying face forward down onto the ice.

"OUCH," he moaned, his face burning from the cold ice--and also from embarrassment as he became aware of loud laughter coming from above him. With sore arms he pushed himself up and, upon fixing his glasses, found Ron, Hermione and Sophie beet red from laughter.

"Oh ha ha ha," said Harry, making a pointed effort not to make eye contact with the crowds of people were giggling at him.

Ron (still laughing) placed a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on mate. I think we'd best stick to Quidditch, eh?"

"Agreed," said Harry, breaking a smile.

Harry was ready to turn in his skates when a voice came up from behind them. "Well hello, Sophie."

Harry turned around to face the unfamiliar voice. It was a girl who was their age, most definitely, with long blond hair and an air of superiority reminiscent of Pansy Parkinson that made Harry immediately not like her.

Sophie appeared to have similar misgivings. "Hello Helen," she said coldly.

"We certainly miss you terribly at Smeltings, Sophie. Rumor has it that you've . . . dropped out?"

"I'm being home schooled now."

"Oh, I see." Helen sounded perfectly unconcerned one way or the other--until her eye fell on Harry. Suddenly she seemed quite attentive. "And . . . who might this be?"

Sophie's hand took hold of Harry's immediately. "Harry."

"Well hello there, Harry." Her smiling eyes saw the deliberate move on Sophie's part, but it apparently didn't phase her since she made no secret over her looking him over . . . twice. "You certainly don't go to Smeltings. I would most definitely remember you."

"No I don't," said Harry casually, squeezing Sophie's hand tighter.

Helen winked at Sophie. "Ahhh. Well done Sophie! Bagged yourself another one." She turned to Harry, "'Snogging Sophie', that's what we called her at Smeltings. A new one every week."

Harry's hand flinched-- he was moments from pulling out his wand and hexing this Helen girl.

Sophie's face had turned ghostly pale. "Yes, well, things change Helen."

"Is that right," said Helen dismissively, "well at least your taste has certainly improved. Tell me, Harry, where do you go to school?"

Harry smiled--it was a sure fire way to get rid of her forever. "It's a school up in Scotland called Hogwarts."

Helen laughed. "Hog-warts? Oh dear, and I always thought Smeltings was a horrible name. Tell me, is it some sort of vocational school for farming?"

Harry remained perfectly pleasant. "No. It's a vocational school for learning witchcraft and wizardry."

Helen's mouth fell. She couldn't speak for quite some time and when she finally did, her voice was raspy. "Er . . . wizardry?"

"That's right."

"So . . . then . . . you're saying that you're a . . y-you're a . . ."

"Wizard, yes."

"All of us are, actually," Ron added, just as happily.

Now Helen was the one who looked pale as a ghost.

"Right . . . right. Okay then, well. . . Sophie? It's been lovely seeing you again, but I really must . . . get going now. It's . . . er . . . getting late, you see. . . er . . ." she was backing away, her eyes darting between Harry and Sophie with mingled fear and confusion, "yes . . . ta, then."

Sophie sighed with relief. "Thanks, Harry."

"Don't mention it."

But Sophie's face was worried and she took hold of his arm. "I'm sorry. . . it was a silly thing, really, we're all stupid when we're fourteen. . ."

"Forget it, Sophie," Harry said with enough force in his voice to make her stop. Helen's crude nickname had indeed got to him, but he didn't want to think about it. It didn't matter anyway, really, did it?

Harry followed Ron as they pushed through the crowds towards the stands, scouring the countless faces for the rest of their entourage. As he was unlacing his ice skates, Harry's eyes found Mr. Banbury standing next to the hot chocolate vendor, with a strange smile on his face. What was he smiling at? And then Harry saw it: Remus and Sirius. They were standing in between two very tall, very big, and very bald men who seemed quite happy to be chatting-- with Harry's godfather in particular.

Lupin's normally pallid face was red and Sirius looked ready to run.

Ron nudged Harry's arm. "Do you see what I see?"

Harry was grinning. "Looks like they're making some friends. Should we go and get them?"

"Nah. Wouldn't want to intrude."

But Lupin had laid eyes on Harry and in one swift flurry of movement was rushing towards him.

"Oy! Harry! A-are you all quite ready?" Lupin was out of breath, an upon closer scrutiny, his face was actually beet red.

"Er . . . yeah, I think we are. Why the rush--"

"Brilliant. Let's go then, shall we?" He pulled Harry to where Sirius was standing. "Sirius, come on, we've got to get going now."

"Oy!" said the bigger of the two bald men, "'Ang on there, mate, wot yer runnin' off fer so fast?"

"Aye," said the second bald man, taking hold of Sirius' arm, "we were thinkin' of goin' down the pub. Fancy a pint?"

"I don't drink," Sirius lied, pulling his arm away and pushing past them. He joined Lupin and the two began a very brisk walk out of the skating arena. Harry and the others had to jog to catch up with them, desperately vying to suppress their laughter.

"Tiresome sport, ice skating" said Lupin finally, "going round and round in circles for hours. . ."

"Well, that's basically what we do in Quidditch," said Ron.

"Slight differences," said Sirius. "Don't know why Muggles like it."

"Yes. . ." said Ron with a sly grin, "Apparently Muggles have strange tastes . . . in many ways."

Mr. Banbury coughed over his laugh. "Come on, we'd best hurry if you want to catch the train back home, Harry."

Of course, Harry did not want to catch the train back home. He did not want the night to end. He wanted to keep that moment--walking down the quiet streets surrounded by his dearest friends--forever. Feeling safe, feeling loved and feeling happy--feeling like a normal teenager for the first time in his life.