Living with Danger

Chapter 31: But I Wouldn't Want to Stay

On the night of 29 December, Albus Dumbledore received a rather petite letter, only about four inches long and two high. Minerva McGonagall, who was with him when it arrived, noticed a look of regret on his face as he took it from the owl.

"What's wrong, Albus?"

"Oh, nothing. I was merely hoping for some photographs, and I see they have not yet come."

"From our... mutual friends?"

"Indeed. And I must say, Minerva, while we are on the subject, that was quite the loaded speech you gave Severus at our end-of-term staff meeting."

Minerva sighed. "I suppose I couldn't resist. I've been wanting for so long to catch him on something - him with his attitude of Slytherin perfection. He just irritates me. It was not that long ago that he was my student, and now, he calls me by my first name, he never misses an opportunity to point out what I or my students have done wrong - at least he's had no complaints as of yet about the newest Weasley boy, I thought it would be inevitable considering his attitude about the rest of the family..."

Dumbledore smiled reflectively, opening his letter. "Percy Weasley does seem the type to get along with Severus, if such a thing is possible. A rule-follower to the extreme. His brothers, now - ah."

"What?"

"Enclosures. One for you." He handed her a small folded piece of air-mail paper. "And one for Hagrid. I think I will save that for the day after tomorrow..."

Dumbledore and Hagrid had a New Year's Eve tradition which they had observed for quite a long time. They had lunch together in Dumbledore's office, followed by tea at Hagrid's house. During the meals, and in the time between, they discussed the year past and the year to come.

"And, surprisingly enough, one for Severus. I do hope it doesn't contain taunts."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "And you know perfectly well it probably does."

----------

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Merry Christmas, as they say State-side. Sorry this letter's late, but mail is heavy this time of year. Also sorry that it's not as bulky as you probably wanted, but it is air-mail, and that's expensive. Not to mention risky.

But not to worry - we took loads of photographs, and you can get them easily. They're waiting for you at the New Orleans School of Magic. Principal West says she'd love to have you drop in for a cup of tea any time.

We are all well, and hope you are the same. We'll see you when we see you.

With wishes for a pleasant New Year,

GGL

----------

Dear Professor McGonagall,

Professor Hunkele of the Vancouver Magical Academy sends his greetings. So do we, of course, but I wanted to be sure I wouldn't forget about the good Professor.

Anyway, a Merry Christmas to you, and a Happy New Year. Just think - only three and three-quarter years left before you get to start teaching our wonderful children! Doesn't that make you want to beam with pride? Or possibly run away screaming?

Well, whichever it is, do it in health, and with our best wishes.

Happy Holidays,

GGL

----------

Severus Snape looked with distaste at his letter. Knowing who sent this to me does not make it easier to take.

He was tempted simply to throw it away unread. But they will probably have placed some sort of spell on it similar to that thrice-damned plaque, so I might as well get it over with now...

He tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents.

Dear Professor Snape,

Merry Christmas. We hope you are feeling well. We would like to thank you for making our trip to America possible. Please don't do it again. Have a Happy New Year.

There was no signature.

Snape read it over twice, then tossed it into his fire and went to get himself a drink.

"Please don't do it again" indeed. If I never see any of them again, it will be too soon.

----------

Dumbledore Apparated to New Orleans the next day (he was one of the few living wizards who could, and did, treat Apparating across oceans as an everyday occurrence) and visited with Joanna West, the principal of the New Orleans School of Magic.

"Very nice young people Hogwarts is turning out these days, Albus," she said over tea. "So polite. And so nice to see them happily married and having children - you need some population boost over there, with that war having scared everyone out of the baby business..."

Dumbledore sighed. "I agree. Hogwarts is sadly diminished from what it once was."

"Only in size," Joanna said. "Not in quality of teaching, I'm sure. My last exchange student said she learned more about potions in two weeks with your Potions Master than she did in a whole semester here." She frowned. "But she also mentioned a bit of a personality clash..."

"Nearly everyone's personalities clash with Severus Snape's," Dumbledore said lightly. "I have a feeling that is the way he prefers it."

"Oh, well, you get some people like that," Joanna said sagely. "Have a cookie? Made them myself..."

----------

The package was small, but filled literally to the brim with photographs. The Pack must have taken ten rolls of film in the six months they had been gone, Dumbledore thought, browsing through the pictures. They were Muggle-style, of course, in color with no movement, but he could still see the faces he loved. With a few minor changes, and one great one.

I see they have given Harry darker skin, so that he will appear to be Aletha's son, I have no doubt. He nodded. A wise choice. Two children in each family is far less likely to be remarked upon.

There was, though, no note with the pictures, and that bothered Dumbledore. I do hope they plan to return soon...

----------

As he did every year, Hagrid arrived at Dumbledore's office around noon on New Year's Eve, ready for lunch and their usual talk. This year, however, there was one topic in particular on both their minds, but neither of them wanted to bring it up. So they talked around it all through lunch and the hours afterwards. It was just as they were getting ready to go outdoors that Dumbledore said, casually, "Hagrid, I believe I have something here for you. It must have reached me by mistake."

He handed the gamekeeper an envelope and turned away. In a small mirror mounted behind his desk, he saw Hagrid beam as he recognized the handwriting on the envelope, and carefully tuck it away in a pocket of his overcoat.

"Sent 'em all t'gether, then," Hagrid said as if to himself as the two went down the stairs. "Tha's smart, that is. Keep 'em from gettin' lost."

"Or intercepted," Dumbledore said quietly. Hagrid nodded, and they were silent for a few moments as they descended the marble staircase and crossed the entrance hall.

Hagrid spoke again as they emerged into the bright light of a sunny winter day. "Wouldn' happen t'know... if they're comin' back any time soon, would yeh, sir?"

"Sadly, my correspondent was silent on that issue, I suspect deliberately so. I have a feeling your letter will be similarly uncommunicative. But one can hardly blame them, given the events of July, for wishing to keep their affairs a bit more secret than they previously have."

Hagrid sighed. "True... true."

"You miss them." It was not a question.

"I do. I miss talkin' with 'em, an' watchin' the little'uns playin' an' roughhousin' like they do... yeh've seen 'em, sir, yeh know how they get..." Hagrid shook his head. "It's jus' hard, not knowin'."

"I agree. But we must remember, Hagrid, that although they seem young to us, our friends are adults and free to make their own choices. Those choices might even include staying where they currently are for some time, as difficult as that is for us to think of."

"They wouldn' stay over there," Hagrid said in shock. "Not them. They wouldn' keep little - er - their boy off in a foreign place tha' way."

"It is only a possibility, Hagrid, and one I tend to discount. The general tenor of their letters leads me to believe that they will, in fact, be returning at some point."

Hagrid nodded. "Hope it's soon." He mounted his front steps, sweeping the snow from them, and pulled open his front door. Fang lifted his head sleepily, then flopped back down in his basket.

"Has Fang gained weight?" Dumbledore asked, pulling back the curtains with a wave of his wand. How odd. I wonder why they were drawn?

"Don' think so. Why?"

Dumbledore got a better look at the large black mass of fur in the basket. "Ah, never mind. A trick of the light." And that would be why. Casually, he lit the lamps and closed the curtains again. Better safe than sorry.

Hagrid poked up the fire and added some small sticks. Once they had caught, he added a Magical Fire-Log ("Catches instantly, burns for hours!") and hung the teakettle on the hob. Dumbledore took the opportunity to scan the room.

As I expected. That closet is not entirely closed. Ah, and the bureau is farther from the wall than I remember... and the bed looks rather interesting...

"Tell me, Hagrid, was there not once a rumor that you kept werewolf cubs under your bed?"

Hagrid laughed. "Ah, now, Professor, yeh know tha' wasn' true."

"Really?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. "Have you checked?"

"Checked?" Hagrid straightened up, looking confused. "Checked where?"

"Under your bed."

"Fer... werewolf cubs?"

"Yes. I think you ought to check now."

Hagrid looked bewildered for one more second, then his eyes lit with understanding. "Per'aps I oughta," he said with a grin, and was across the cabin and reaching under the bed almost faster than Dumbledore could follow.

I always forget that Hagrid's bulk is deceptive - he can move quite quickly when he wishes to.

There was a shriek from under the bed, followed by giggles. Hagrid pulled his arm back out with Hermione Granger clinging to his hand, squealing happily. Harry Potter and Draco and Meghan Black exploded out from the other sides of the bed and mobbed Hagrid, hugging every part of him they could reach.

"An' wha' were yeh doin' under there?" Hagrid mock-angrily demanded of the cubs, standing up and putting his hands on his hips.

"Hiding," Harry said with his insouciant smile.

"Where's yer parents?"

"Hiding," Draco said, relinquishing his hold on Hagrid's arm and dropping to the floor. "Hi, Professor Dumbledore."

"Hi, Professor," the other cubs chorused.

"Hello, children," Dumbledore said, looking them over. They seemed much the same as ever, with one noticeable exception - Harry was wearing glasses, round-lensed with black plastic frames. I would imagine they have been charmed to be Unbreakable, considering his penchant for flying and climbing things.

"Yes, hello, Professor, hello, Hagrid," said Aletha, coming out from behind the bureau. Dumbledore noticed as usual the woman's signature style, a seemingly impossible combination of dignity and playfulness, so that everything she did appeared both sophisticated and unrehearsed. "Hermione Granger, get down this instant - Hagrid is not a tree."

"Aw, she kin climb on me if she wants ta," Hagrid said, beaming proudly at Neenie, who was perched on his shoulder. "Where's ev'ryone else?"

Someone sneezed in the closet.

"They'll be out as soon as they finish playing guitar," Aletha said with a straight face.

Hagrid looked confused. "Playin' guitar?"

"That's what they call it in Arizona," said a bearded man, standing up in Fang's corner. It took Dumbledore a moment to recognize Sirius. "And that's where we left from, Phoenix, Arizona. Didn't take you long, Headmaster. I win for once," he called toward the closet.

"I should have known better than to bet against you, Professor," said Remus, opening the closet door from inside. "And for your information, Letha, we were not 'playing guitar' in there."

"We weren't?" Danger said dreamily from behind him. "Can we not do it again, then?"

Hagrid laughed at this. "Yeh hid in Fang's basket," he said to Sirius. "Tha's why Professor Dumbledore asked if he gained weight."

"That I did. I have to admit, Hagrid, we were hoping you'd come back alone and we could surprise you."

"Trus' me, yeh surprised me plenty," Hagrid said, lifting Hermione down from his shoulder. "I gotta get ter the tea, sweetie, yeh go on now..."

"When did you get back?" Dumbledore asked Remus.

"Last night. We got rooms in London and Flooed into Hogsmeade this morning."

"And oh, do we ever have stories," Danger said, her eyes dancing. "I hope neither of you have anywhere to be."

"Nowhere but here," Dumbledore said with a smile.

I had forgotten how invigorating the presence of the Pack is. They take such obvious delight in life that it is difficult venturing on impossible not to join them in their joy.

And since there is no reason not to...

He sat back in his chair, a signal to the cubs that his lap was available for sitting on. Harry got there first, but Meghan was a close second. Neenie was busy petting Fang, and Draco was under the table, doing heaven only knew what.

"Well, for one thing, my family appears to have been more secretive than I ever knew," Aletha said with a rueful smile. "You know that we went to visit my aunt, Professor. She was my father's older sister by quite a few years, she's in her early sixties. Apparently, she and her parents managed to keep secret from my father the exact nature of the boarding school she attended. The all-girls boarding school in Massachusetts."

"Your father's sister... not the Amy Freeman who is influential at Noxet Bank?" Dumbledore asked.

"The same. And she caught us out - luckily, all she wanted to know was the truth, and she was willing to believe it."

"We were careless," Remus said, glancing at Harry. "We won't make that mistake again."

"On that subject," Dumbledore said, "where are you planning to live now - and under what names, if I may ask such an indiscreet question?"

"We're all Blacks now," Aletha said. "Patrick and Carrie with Harry and Meghan, and John and Gertrude with Drake and Hermione. Pat and John are fraternal twins, born in England but raised in Canada, alumni of VMA in British Columbia, and such loving brothers that they never did anything apart, not even get married. And since their wives happened to be best friends, it suited them, and their paychecks, all just fine to share a house."

"It was a happy coincidence that both ladies became pregnant at the same time," Danger added. "The twins were born just a few days before Harry, and they've done everything together ever since."

"And because Harry Black will have the same skin tone as his sister and his mother," Sirius finished, "why would anyone have reason to suspect he's actually Harry Potter?"

Hagrid chuckled, bringing the teapot to the table. "Hidin' in plain sight - usin' yer real last name an' all!"

"We're hoping the Aurors think we'd never be that stupid," Remus said. "As to where, we haven't decided yet. But we would like a small town or village, if we can. The cubs need some space to run in. And if there happened to be a magical family around with children near their age..."

"They could use some friends," Danger said. "Other than themselves. They're very close to each other, of course, but new friends would be good for them." She made a face. "We had a very interesting conversation one full moon night."

----------

Den-nights, by definition, were times to be Pack. Part of being Pack was knowing the Pack stories, knowing how the Pack had come to be and what had made its members who they were, the good things and the bad both. The adults all knew the stories, of course, having lived them. But the cubs needed to be told. Den-nights had become the time for telling them.

Many of the stories were troubling. Normal families might have balked at telling their children such things. But the adults were in agreement - the cubs had to know. It was better for them to hear and learn about frightening things while they were safe in den, with their Pack around them, than for them to be surprised by those same frightening things in real life, when there might be no one there to help them.

So the cubs all knew the story of Wormtail and his betrayal, and how Hermione and Danger's parents had died. They knew that they would someday meet a boy named Neville, the same age as the older three, whose parents did not know him because of Death Eaters. And they knew the name of Voldemort, and did not fear to speak it.

Telling the stories had another advantage - stories about the bad times the cubs themselves had experienced brought old fears to the surface, letting the cubs remember the fear, recognize it, and make a choice to fight against it. Harry still shivered when the story of the night he was rescued was told, but it no longer paralyzed him as it had done on its first telling, and it had taken Draco five den-nights, but he had finally been able to keep from diving under the blankets whenever someone mentioned his birth-father's name.

The occurrences with Snape and Neenie were still too recent to have become a story yet, for which Danger was privately thankful. She knew what was likely to happen when it did.

Just when we'd got her to stop, too. She hasn't sucked her thumb in months. Not since it actually happened.

Oh well. At least it's not dangerous, destructive, or overly disgusting.

On this particular den-night, one of the stories being told was about what Lucius Malfoy had said to the Pack while he had them imprisoned. They had just reached the part about the Imperius Curse not being illegal on non-humans, when Draco had a question.

"What's a humans?"

This should be interesting.

Shut up.

Temper, temper...

"Human is the word for people who look like us, Draco. People with two legs and two arms, who don't have wings or tails or fur all the time. Wizards and Muggles are human, and men and women and boys and girls are all human. Understand?"

Draco nodded.

"Are we human?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course we are," Danger said, confused. What else would he think we were?

I have a feeling...

Harry shook his head. "Uh-uh. We're Pack."

What did I tell you? Remus said, lightly, but with a slight edge.

You knew. You knew this was coming.

No, but I suspected. It's not as bad as it sounds, love. They don't think they're any better or worse than the rest of the world, just different, and they've grown up knowing that - don't get too worked up about terminology.

Well, I'm not letting them get away with thinking they're not human. "Yes, Harry, we're Pack. But we're human too."

"Even Moony?" Neenie asked.

"Even Moony," Sirius said. "Except very early in the morning, before he has his tea."

The werewolf growled lightly at Sirius.

"Then Lucius was wrong," Draco said with an air of relief.

"In the real world, yes, he was wrong," Danger said. "But I'm not so sure about legality. Letha, do you know?"

"The law's complicated," Aletha said with a sigh. "Supposedly, except on full-moon nights, werewolves are considered human - otherwise, Remus could never have gone to school or even bought a wand. But there is a deep-set prejudice against them in the magical world, and some rights are denied to them - they can't vote, and they can't legally adopt, not magically, anyway."

"Good thing we did it the Muggle way, then," Danger said, rubbing Remus' head just behind his ears.

"Did what?" Sirius asked.

"When we got married, I transferred Neenie's custody to the two of us, jointly. Since Muggle law doesn't even know there is such a thing as lycanthropy, it wasn't a problem."

Remus laughed wolf-style, a sound like a cross between a cough and a bark. And since you were supposedly still a Muggle at the time, it should hold up in court, if we ever have to take it there.

Doesn't matter. She's mine, end of story, and the court has no say over whom we share our lives with.

Well, it might have something to say about the fact that technically, we're all criminals. Kidnapping, both Harry and Draco - aiding and abetting a fugitive - actually helping him escape, in my case. If they abide by the letter of the law, even if Sirius' name is cleared, we could all be sent to Azkaban.

Danger shivered. And isn't that a pleasant thought. How did this conversation get so cheerful, anyway?

It's all your fault.

How do you figure?

Everything's your fault. You know that.

Danger growled and punched her husband on the shoulder. Jerk.

And don't you forget it.

----------

"America is similar to England in a lot of ways," Aletha recalled. "We speak the same language, more or less. People are a little more relaxed there, and you have to remember to look the other way when you're crossing the street - we almost got run over more than once before we got that down."

"But it's people trying to make their way in life, just like anywhere else," Remus said. "We fit right in. Just another bunch of tourists, stay a few days here, a few days there, pay our bills and go."

"We spent a week or so in New York City," Sirius said. "Exciting place. Wouldn't want to live there, though. But they do have some good pizza."

"Is food all you ever think about?" asked Aletha jokingly.

"No. I think about you a lot."

"What do you think about me?"

"That no matter what side of the ocean we're on, you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Nice recovery," Danger said approvingly.

"They also have good theater in New York," Aletha said. "We went to a couple of matinees. Musicals, things the cubs would enjoy."

"And we visited a few places your average tourist wouldn't get to see," said Remus. "I think we saw most of the magical schools in North America, at least to the point of walking around their campuses."

"We spent three days studying the Vancouver Magical Academy," Danger said. "To make sure we know enough about it to be able to say we went there."

"Yes, how is Muggle travel across the US/Canada border these days?" Dumbledore asked.

"Very easy," Sirius said. "We showed them our passports, all legally stamped and signed, and they let us across with no trouble at all."

"Having no idea, of course, that said passports were absolutely and totally fake," Aletha said with a grin. "Muggles are so easy to fool. If you have the right piece of paper, they'll let you do anything."

"Wizards don't even need a piece of paper," Sirius said, the laughter dying out of his face. "Just a story."

Aletha winced. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Danger broke it. "And then, of course, there was the time Sirius decided he needed something new to wear. Something warm, since it was chilly. So he walked into a store and said..."

"Oh, do you have to bring this up?" Sirius groaned.

"Whose fault is it that you didn't bother to find out if the word means something different in America than it does here?" asked Remus. "The look on that saleslady's face was wonderful."

"And you might look cute in an American jumper," Aletha said, grinning. "I'll keep it in mind for future April Fool's Days."

"I am so dead," Sirius said to the ceiling. "Why couldn't I have had the sense to fall in love with someone who didn't prank?"

"You wouldn't be able to stand anyone who didn't prank," Aletha countered. "And she wouldn't be able to stand you."

"So wha's 'jumper' mean in America?" Hagrid asked.

"A dress," Remus said. "A dress without sleeves, to be worn over a shirt."

"And usually worn only by girls Neenie's age and under," Danger finished.

Hagrid guffawed. Sirius flushed and dropped his teaspoon, disappearing under the table to get it.

----------

When Danger next stood up, an hour or so later, she yelped and sat quickly back down. "Someone," she said with a glare at Sirius, "has tied my shoelaces to the table leg."

"Not me," Sirius said, raising his hands.

Danger scanned the cubs' faces. "Draco," she said after a moment. "You did it, didn't you?"

The boy blushed ever so slightly and nodded.

"Very neatly done," Danger said. "I never even felt you do it. Good work. Fix it now, and don't do it again."

Draco crawled under the table. "All done," he called a moment later. Danger rose, carefully, and stepped away from the table.

Remus stood up - and fell down, landing with a crash on the floor.

"Now that, I did," Sirius said triumphantly.

"I'd hurt you if I could reach you," Remus growled. "Help me up here, Danger?"

"Why? You seem to be doing so well on your own."

----------

Minerva McGonagall was enjoying her holiday. It wasn't often she gave herself an entire day off. With a glass of white wine in one hand, the latest issue of Transfiguration Today in the other, and her feet up, she was not expecting, and did not at all care for, the knock on her door.

Oh, now what. "Come in," she called brusquely without bothering to turn around.

"Happy New Year, Professor," chorused four small voices.

Minerva was on her feet and across the room in a flash, overjoyed to see the children and amazed at the strength of her own reaction. "Good heavens, look at you! You've grown!"

"They never stop," said Remus Lupin with a smile as he entered the room behind his children. "Hello, Professor."

"Heavens, Remus, if Severus Snape can call me Minerva, you certainly may." She shook hands with him, with Sirius (whom she almost didn't recognize, with his beard - and that is the point, after all), with Aletha and Danger, and exclaimed over the children. "Harry, you have glasses. And what's happened to your skin?"

"It's my new out-of-den face, Professor," Harry said proudly. "We all have them. See?"

Minerva nodded, looking the children over. "I do see." She tapped her finger against her lips, aware she was being tested by these fascinating, unusual children. "Hermione, your hair is lighter than it was, and straighter too."

Neenie nodded, smiling shyly.

"Draco, yours is darker, with just a hint of red - quite handsome, I must say."

The boy's face lit up with the smile that was his best disguise, as it completely obliterated all resemblance to his father, who would never have countenanced such a display of vulgar emotion.

"And Meghan - such pretty braids. Just like your mother's."

Meghan giggled and rubbed her head, obviously not quite used to the feeling of her hair in the tight braids yet.

"As observant as ever, Pro - er - Minerva," Aletha said. "How have you been?"

They talked for a short time, catching up, until Sirius had to physically remove Harry from the small table in the corner, which he had been about to jump off. "We should go," he said, setting the boy on the floor. "Before they move on to destroying things."

"That would be nice," Minerva said with a touch of acridity which she didn't really mean. In truth, she owned very little that she was greatly attached to, and she valued the friendships she had made with the Pack far more than her things.

But, still, repairing things or buying new ones was a bit of a nuisance.

"We'll write you when we get settled," Danger promised. "We have a few houses we're looking at already, so it shouldn't be long."

"My door is always open to you," Minerva said, and meant it. I came to know them through my own rash actions. The least I can do is offer them help if they should ever need it.

Unlike certain others I could name...

----------

Severus Snape was perfectly well aware of who was in the castle. He simply chose not to acknowledge the fact.

It would serve no rational purpose to face them now. I must wait until I have more strength, more knowledge. And until I have recovered from that most humiliating defeat.

But he had to admit that it was possible he would never recover, that the Marauders had won...

No. I do not have to admit anything of the kind. They won that round, that is all. I must win the next.

I wonder how, and when, and where it will be played?

----------

On 13 January, a small village in Devon grew by eight people, all with the surname Black.

On 14 January, the new residents received a visit from Mrs. Edith Miller, the town gossip.

"... and it's just more than human flesh can bear," she said for the tenth time in her visit, "the way these young people behave these days..."

Danger and Aletha nodded sympathetically. Remus and Sirius, probably wisely, had made their excuses and escaped the kitchen. The cubs were also absent - the older three had gone outdoors to explore the neighborhood, and Meghan was upstairs playing in the large bedroom they still insisted on sharing - though, thank heaven, we talked them into separate beds. All we'd need is one hint of "boys and girls sharing beds" for our names to be toast.

"... and then that strange family who live just south of town, with all their funny noises, and that strange black ball that little Eddie Keaton said he saw flying around all by itself, though goodness knows he's only ten and children that age lie like rugs..."

A black ball that flies around by itself? Keep her talking about that.

Not a problem.

"... all those boys, good heavens, and I don't know where she buys food for them all, it's certainly not in town here, but really, that whole family, and all with the red hair so you can see them coming a mile away..."

Hmm, a large, red-haired family, with a reputation for being isolated and unusual... I wonder...

Danger blinked suddenly. Remus - which way did the cubs go?

I'm not sure - Hermione saw a grove of trees up on a hill, she wanted to see if any of them were good for climbing, and Harry and Draco went with her...

"... in that old orchard on the hill, well after all they do own it, but they're up there all the time in the summer, doing heaven knows what, yelling and screaming like maniacs..."

Danger smiled to herself.

I have a good feeling about this.

----------

Chapter 32: This Changes Everything

Ron Weasley lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

I'm so bored, he chanted to himself. I'm so bored.

Dad was at work. Mum was bustling around the kitchen like always. Bill, Charlie, and Percy were at Hogwarts, Fred and George were outside somewhere, probably snowballing each other, and Ginny was down in her room with Loony Lovegood, having a tea party.

And I can' t tell Mum I'm bored. Mum has one cure for boredom - chores.

Ron came to a decision. I'll go up to the orchard. If I'm careful, I can avoid the twins. And I might find something to do out there. Anything's better than just lying here.

He got up and went down the stairs, carefully skirting the door with the giggles coming from behind it. He wondered why anyone would want to make such a strange, high-pitched noise anyway. Girls were weird.

He retrieved his snow gear from the closet and climbed into it, automatically fixing the one strap on his overalls that always came undone and Spellotaping shut the boot that didn't have a fastener anymore. Maybe, if I hurry, I can get out before...

"There you are!" Mrs. Weasley came out of the kitchen and surveyed her youngest son. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out," Ron said, hoping to get away with it.

"Out where?"

"Just up to the orchard."

"Well, all right. I'll call you when it's time for lunch. Behave yourself, now."

"Yes, Mum," Ron said, hurrying out the door before she could change her mind.

----------

My poor little boy, Molly Weasley thought sadly, watching Ron go. How much I wish you had a friend. Just one.

----------

Harry Potter threw a snowball at one of the trees, just to hear the solid thump and watch the white splotch appear on the trunk. I like it here. Lots of space to run in, lots of snow to play in. The only thing that could make it better would be someone new to talk to...

Draco was lying down in the snow nearby, staring at the sky. Probably looking at the clouds. He likes doing stuff like that.

They had lost sight of Hermione, who had run ahead. She was most likely up one of the trees right now. Reading that book I saw in her coat pocket.

He fired another snowball at a tree, a big fat old monster. It struck with a hollow thud.

----------

Ron looked for footprints in the snow and saw with relief that the only tramped path led in the opposite direction of where he was headed. So I ought to be alone.

Alone. He sighed as he walked. I am alone. Most of the time, anyway. Except when the twins need a guinea pig for an experiment or want somebody to tease.

He remembered another day at the orchard, a summer day, when he had been thinking much the same things. And I wished I had friends. But that was years ago, and nothing's ever happened. I never even saw that boy again. What was his name - oh, I can't even remember any more. And I don't want to ask Mum about him, because that would be nagging.

He arrived at the orchard and leaned his forehead against a tree.

I guess wishes don't come true. Not even for wizards.

"GET DOWN!" a high-pitched voice screamed from above him.

Ron dropped to the ground instantly. A snowball whizzed over his head and hit the tree trunk, exactly where his head had been a moment before. Somebody swore behind him. He rolled over into a sitting position in time to see another snowball go by, in the opposite direction, and score on the back of one of the twins, both of whom were in retreat down the hill.

What the...

"Get up, get up, they'll be back in a second!" the voice said, and Ron scrambled to his feet and looked up.

A girl was climbing quickly down one of the trees. She was about his age, brown-haired and wearing a red coat.

I've never seen her before.

"Who are you?" he asked as she dropped to the ground.

"That doesn't matter now, come on!" she said, and dashed into the trees. Ron followed, trying to keep her coat in sight. His heart was pounding. Why did she help me?

Suddenly he realized he couldn't see her anymore. He looked around wildly. Where'd she go?

"Over here!" her voice hissed. She was sitting on a low branch of one of the trees. "Come on, get up!"

"How?" Ron asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Jump and grab the branch, then walk your feet up the trunk."

A bit awkwardly, Ron did as he was told, and was almost surprised to find himself straddling the branch, facing the girl.

She pulled off a knitted mitten and held out her hand. "Hermione."

"I'm Ron."

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. Do you live in the village?"

She nodded. "We've just moved in."

"Who's we?"

"Me and my brother Drake - we're twins - and our mum and dad, and our aunt and uncle and cousins. What about you?"

"Ah-HA!" Fred shouted. Or possibly George. "There they are!"

"Brothers," Ron said in disgust, swinging his leg over the branch and dropping to the ground. "Lots of brothers. Come on."

Hermione followed him to the ground, and they ran, dodging Fred and George's snowballs. After a moment, they broke into the open area where the Weasleys played Quidditch in the summertime. Ron turned left to get back into the trees, Hermione following him closely. "Wait here," he panted when they reached cover, then turned around and ran back across the field, being sure to leave clear footprints in the snow.

Now, how did she say to do it again? Jump and grab, then walk your feet up the trunk, that's it.

He looked around. Those three trees that grew so close together were around here somewhere, he knew they were...

There. He ran heavily up to the first one and jumped for the lowest branch, just making it. His boots left snow on the trunk, but that couldn't be helped. Quickly, he stood up on the branch and climbed around the tree, up to a higher branch on the other side, and then (he held his breath) between the trees - the branches flexed crazily, but they held his weight, and he was across.

He repeated the act to get to the third tree, then dropped as quietly as he could to the ground. He could see the twins, staring at the place where his trail stopped, near the base of the first tree - sooner or later they were going to figure out what he'd done, but it might give Hermione enough time to get -

Someone tapped his shoulder. He whipped around, managing to keep from yelling.

----------

Draco sat up. "What was that?"

"I hit a tree with a snowball," Harry said.

"It sounded different." Draco got to his feet. "What tree was it?"

"That one right there," Harry said, pointing it out. "Want me to do it again?"

"Yeah."

Harry scooped, packed, and threw.

"It sounds hollow," Draco said. "Like a drum. Listen." He went to it and thumped it with his hand. "Hear it?"

Harry frowned. "Sort of."

Draco pulled his mitten off and ran his hand up and down the bark. "There's something here. It's like a catch or a lock or someth..." He trailed off. "It is a catch. And there's hinges on the other side. There's a door in this tree."

"A door in a tree?" Harry laughed. "Wonder where it goes?"

"I don't think it goes anywhere," Draco said, now with both his mittens off, hanging from his sleeves by their strings. "It's a little door. Like someone keeps something here - ah!" He stepped back, and a section of the tree swung open.

"Wow." Harry came around to Draco's other side to look into the tree.

A red leather ball sat within. Draco picked it up. "I know what this is," he said reverently.

"I know what it looks like," Harry said guardedly. "But is it?"

----------

"Where'd you go?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I was trying to lead them off you!"

"Why?"

"Because - I don't know - " Ron racked his brain and came up with something. "Because we're outnumbered."

Hermione frowned. "We are not. It's two to two."

"All right, we're outweighed then. They're twice our size," Ron said, pointing at Fred and George.

"That can be remedied." Hermione cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Don't," Ron started, but he was too late.

"Owwoooo!" The howl rang through the orchard.

"What are you doing?" Ron hissed, slapping her hands away from her mouth.

"Calling for help," Hermione said in an affronted voice, and repeated her cry. "Owwoooo!"

"Now they're coming right at us!" Ron shouted, pointing at his brothers, who were doing exactly that.

Hermione flinched. "I hadn't thought of that. Run!"

----------

Draco let the ball go. Instead of falling at a normal speed to the ground, it sank slowly, as if the air were water. "It's a Quaffle," he said, picking it up and putting it back in its hidey-hole. "It has to be. And you know what that means."

Harry nodded. "It means wizards live around here somewhere. Wizards who play Quidditch."

"And most wizards who play Quidditch," Draco finished, "are kids."

The boys grinned at each other. Then they heard a sound. A howl.

"Neenie," they said together, and started running as the howl was repeated.

----------

Ron and Hermione broke into the open field again. "Split up - " Ron gasped out. "Less of a target that way - "

"Right." Hermione split off from him and ran into the trees on the left. Ron went for the ones on the right, just barely making it out of the field before Fred and George ran into it.

Need to breathe. He hid behind a tree and sank to one knee, panting and watching the twins look at the footprints. Come on, follow me, he willed them. Follow me, not her -

A mittened hand covered his mouth. He froze.

"You with Hermione?" a voice said in his ear. "Brown-haired girl?"

He nodded.

"Then we're with you," the voice said, and the hand was taken away. Ron stood up and turned around.

Two boys about his own age stood there. One was dark-skinned and wearing glasses, the other was blond. "Harry Black," the dark boy continued, extending his hand. "I'm her cousin. This's her brother Drake."

Ron shook hands with both of them. "Ron, Ron Weasley - " He glanced over his shoulder. "Here they come." Fred and George had made up their minds, and were following his tracks.

Harry and Drake both grinned. "Not a problem," Drake said, and faster than anyone Ron had ever seen, snatched a handful of snow, packed it, and flung it accurately through the trees and into George's face. Harry's snowball hit Fred only a second later. Ron joined in with glee.

The twins were forced back into the open, and it only took a few moments of hard fire by the three younger boys before they broke and ran. "Yes!" Ron yelled, pumping a fist in the air.

"Your brothers?" Harry asked, leaning against a tree.

"Yeah. Fred and George. Twins, in case you can't tell."

"They pick on you a lot?" Drake asked.

"Sometimes."

"How come?"

"I guess just because I'm there, and younger, and all by myself." But I'm not all by myself. Not any more...

"How old are you?" Drake said.

"I'll be eight in March."

"We'll be eight in July," Harry said, grinning. "Drake and Neenie were born a couple days before me. Maybe we'll go to school together."

School.

Hogwarts.

Ron's happiness deflated like a pricked balloon.

They live in the village. They're Muggles. I can't stay friends with them. They won't understand.

"Probably not," he muttered, kicking at a clump of snow. "My family all goes to this boarding school up north. You've probably never even heard of it."

"What's its name?" Harry asked.

"You'll think it's stupid."

"We'll think what's stupid?" Hermione asked from behind him.

"The school his family goes to," Drake told her. "He says it's up north and we've never heard of it."

"His last name's Weasley," Harry added. "And we found a red ball hidden in one of the trees."

Ron looked at the other boy in shock. They found our Quaffle? Oh no.

"A red ball?" Hermione repeated, smiling. "How big of a red ball?"

"About so big." Drake measured with his hands. "And it fell slow when I dropped it."

Ron winced. We're gonna get in trouble, we should've hidden it better, Dad's gonna be so mad, Muggles aren't supposed to see enchanted stuff...

"Hmm," Hermione said. "Sounds like a Quaffle to me."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I think it was a Quaffle. Ron?"

Ron stared at them. A wild hope began to grow inside him. "You know what a Quaffle is?"

"The ball Chasers play with in Quidditch," Drake said promptly, with a small quantity of "well, duh" in his tone. "I want to be a Chaser when I go to Hogwarts. Harry wants to play Seeker."

"You know Quidditch?" Ron blurted, his hope magnified a hundred times. "You're going to Hogwarts?"

All three of them nodded.

"You're - you're wizards and witches?"

"Our whole family is," Hermione said. "Our mums and dads, and us, and even Harry's little sister Meghan. She's four."

"And a half," Harry said. "Four and a half. Don't ever forget the half."

"Like she'd let us," Drake groaned.

Ron barely heard them. It was all he could do to keep from jumping up and down screaming. A few, very basic thoughts kept chasing each other around in his brain: They're magic. They're my age.

And I think they want to be friends.

"Ron?"

He jumped. "Huh?"

"I said," Hermione repeated, "do you want to come over to our house?"

"Er - I don't know if I'm allowed," Ron said truthfully. "Can I run home real fast and check?"

"Can we come with you?" Harry asked. "So we can see where you live."

"Sure," Ron said, grinning. They do want to be friends. They want to be friends with me. I'm going to have friends...

"AMBUSH!" two voices screamed, and snowballs pelted the four.

"Follow me!" Ron yelled, and took off through the trees into the field. He didn't dare to look back, but he could hear the sounds of other people running with him, and only hoped that all three of them were staying with him.

"What now?" Harry panted out, coming up even with him.

"Split up," Ron got out. "Two and two. Outflank them."

"Got it." Harry dropped back a pace to run beside Drake - Ron risked a glance over his shoulder to see it - and said something to him. Drake nodded, and Harry speeded back up to Ron's pace. "Whenever you're ready," he said with a grin.

"Now," Ron said as they passed into the trees. He turned left, Harry turned with him, and they found a semi-sheltered spot, where they both dropped to their knees and began packing snowballs. Drake and Hermione had disappeared; Ron fervently hoped they were getting ready as well. He watched Fred and George looking around cautiously from the other side of the field, then crossing it at a run, snowballs in hands.

Ron tensed, but Harry put a hand on his shoulder. "Wait till they get almost here," he murmured. "More of a surprise that way."

Ron nodded and readied his snowball. They were coming... they were closer... they were almost there...

"CHARGE!" Harry shouted, jumping up and catching the twins completely by surprise. As they turned to meet the threat of Harry and Ron, Drake and Hermione leapt out of cover behind them and barraged them.

Attacked from two sides, the twins chose the better part of valor and ran for their lives. Ron yelled gleefully and gave chase, and his friends joined in gladly.

My friends. I have friends. I really and truly have friends.

I guess wishes do come true after all.

----------

Fred slammed the door against a last volley of snowballs and turned to George.

"This," he said, "changes everything."

George nodded ruefully. "Our little brother is no longer an easy target."

"And Ginny's off limits." The twins had established that long since. Their little sister was not eligible for pranks. She was just too... cute.

"So I guess we're back to experimenting on ourselves," George said.

Fred gave a short laugh. "Unless we can get his new friends to volunteer."

"Maybe if we tell them it's candy..."

Two pairs of identical brown eyes met. Speculation lurked in both of them.

An idea had been born.

----------

Four windblown, exuberant children arrived triumphantly in the kitchen of the Burrow ten minutes later. Fred and George had vacated the premises already, so the friends had the room to themselves while they removed their layers of snow-encrusted clothing.

Two pairs of eyes, one brown, the other silver-gray, watched them from the stairs.

"The blond one is cute," said the owner of the gray eyes dreamily.

"Are you crazy?" demanded the owner of the brown eyes. "The black one's way cuter."

"I like the blond one better," the first girl insisted.

"You're out of your mind," declared the second girl firmly.

"One of them's a girl, you know."

"Which one?"

"The one with the long brown hair."

"Oh. I thought you meant one of the boys was a girl."

Both girls giggled.

"Come on, let's go up to my room," Ron was saying.

"We should ask your mother if it's all right," the blond boy said dubiously. "Do you know where she is?"

"She's around, we'll find her - " Ron stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the two girls. "Hello, Ginny," he said resignedly. "Hello, Luna. Everyone, this is my sister Ginny, and her friend Luna Lovegood. Ginny, Luna, this is Harry, Hermione, and Drake Black. They live down in the village."

"Hi," said the black boy, whom Ron had indicated as Harry.

"Hi," Ginny said back.

Luna looked at him. "You're Harry like Harry Potter," she said. "You're the right age, too."

"Do I look like Harry Potter?" the boy demanded. "I hate my name. I wish my parents had named me anything else. Anything. But no, it was Harry, and then Harry Potter has to go and get all famous and then disappear, and now that's what everyone says. 'Oh, are you Harry Potter?' I'm sick of it."

Luna blinked, looking mildly startled by the vehemence of Harry's reaction.

"Sorry," Harry apologized, looking shamefaced. "It's just that I get it a lot."

"Excuse us, please," Ron said in a business-like manner, and started up the stairs between the girls. Hermione and Drake followed him, and Luna got to her feet and drifted up after them.

Ginny looked at Harry.

"You never actually said you weren't Harry Potter," she said.

"Well, I'm not. Happy now?"

"Yes. Very."

"Thank you." He started up the stairs.

"You crossed your fingers," Ginny said quietly as he passed her.

"What?"

"You crossed your fingers when you said it."

"I did not."

"Yes you did. I saw it."

"No, I did not. You saw wrong."

Ginny shrugged. "If you say so." She went up the stairs past Harry, heading for her own room.

I know what I saw. And I did not see wrong.

Cute or not, I don't think I like him very much.

----------

Ron is great, but I don't like his sister much.

Oh well. I don't have to be her friend.

Harry gladly abandoned thoughts of Ginny and paid attention to Ron, who was waxing rapturous over the Chudley Cannons.

----------

What is it about boys? You get two or three of them together and within a minute they want to talk about Quidditch.

Hermione was bored.

Maybe I'll go and see if I can find the girls. His sister and her friend.

She slipped out of Ron's room. Harry and Ron were in the middle of a spirited discussion, with Draco listening to both sides, probably intending to mediate like he did when she and Harry fought. Draco hated people fighting.

They'll never even notice I'm gone.

She descended two staircases before encountering someone. A female someone. But not Ron's sister.

"Who are you?" demanded a plump, red-haired woman in an apron, staring at the strange little girl on her stairs. She could only be Ron's mother.

"Hermione. Hermione Black. Are you Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Hermione said, offering her hand. "My family's just moved to the village - I have a twin brother Drake and a cousin Harry who's our age. They're up in Ron's room. May I - "

"Excuse me for one moment, dear." Mrs. Weasley stepped to the foot of the flight of stairs Hermione had just descended. "RONALD WEASLEY! YOU GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

----------

Molly Weasley wasn't often flabbergasted. But that was the only word that could possibly describe her emotions at this moment.

How could he do this. Bringing Muggle children into this house. We use magic everywhere, there's no way they could possibly miss it, and they'll have to be Obliviated, and if there's one thing I hate, it's using Memory Charms on children, it's so easy to damage their minds permanently, and the younger they are, the worse it is...

Ron came thumping down the stairs, two other boys behind him, one of them blond - Hermione's brother, most likely - the other one dark-skinned and bespectacled. "Hi, Mum," he said in confusion. "These are my new friends - this is Harry - " He indicated the dark boy. "And this is Drake, and that's Hermione."

"I know their names," Molly said, stepping forward and pulling her son aside. "Ronald Weasley, how could you. How could you bring Muggles into this house. You know perfectly well you're not to go making friends with Muggle children without your father's or my permission - "

"But Mum - "

"Don't you 'But Mum' me. Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused? Do you have any idea - "

"Mrs. Weasley?" said one of the other boys from behind her.

Molly turned to face him. "Yes?" she said politely. Being mad at Ron was no reason to shout at perfectly innocent children, who had no idea that their simply being in this house was criminal...

"May we use your fire?" the boy - Harry - asked.

"Our fire?" Why on earth would a Muggle child want to use the fire? "Whatever for?"

"To call our parents and tell them where we are," Drake said.

"My mum and my Aunt Carrie are witches, ma'am," Hermione added quickly, "and my dad and my Uncle Pat are wizards. We've just moved here from Canada. We all live in the same house in the village."

Good heavens.

Molly released Ron's collar. "I'm so sorry, dear," she said to him. "I spoke too soon. Forgive me?"

"S'alright, Mum," Ron said with a smile. How wonderful. I haven't seen him smile almost at all lately. "Come on, Harry, Drake, I'll show you my comic books."

"Of course you can use the fire, dear," Molly said to Hermione - what a lovely name. Shakespearean, isn't it?- - as the boys disappeared upstairs. "I'd like to meet your parents, if they're free. And your aunt and uncle, you said? You share a house with them?"

The girl nodded. "Uncle Pat is my dad's twin," she said, following Molly down the stairs. "And Mum and Aunt Carrie were best friends at school. So when they all got married, they wanted to stay together, and then they had us, and they had to stay together so we could be friends."

Molly laughed. She liked this girl, with her excellent manners and her matter-of-fact speech. Perhaps I can become friends with her mother or her aunt. Or both. If she is anything like the women who raised her, I should enjoy their company quite a lot...

----------

"Where are you?" Sirius demanded.

"At the Weasleys' house. It's called the Burrow. Ron Weasley is just our age and Ginny is only a year younger. We're friends with Ron already. And Mrs. Weasley says we can stay for lunch. Can we, please, Uncle Pat?"

"Well, if she says you may, you may, Hermione. Tell the boys to behave themselves, and be home by two o'clock."

"We will. Bye." With a whoosh, Hermione's head vanished from the fireplace. The green flames that had been there sputtered and went out.

I can't decide if this is good or bad. The cubs making a friend is definitely good. But that friend belongs to a magical family, who might recognize any one of us for who we are, and that would definitely be bad.

Ah, dammit, I'm not a deep thinker. I'll go with good and leave it at that.

Someone was laughing. Sirius turned around and saw Remus leaning on the doorframe, chuckling. "What?"

"Just thinking. You sound so... fatherly, Padfoot. If anyone had told us about this ten years ago, you know we wouldn't have believed it."

"Well, we wouldn't have believed parts of it. Like you getting married, Moony, or us raising Prongs' son."

"Or Lucius Malfoy's son."

"True. That we would never have believed."

"And yet, here we are." Remus spread his hands wide. "And I honestly can't think of anywhere I'd rather be."

"If James and Lily hadn't died," Sirius said quietly.

"There is that. But that might mean we'd still have Voldemort to contend with."

"Good point."

Remus leaned his elbows on the windowsill. "All things considered, this really may be the best of all possible worlds..."

"If you're going to get philosophical, I'm leaving."

"If you're leaving, may I suggest the kitchen as a possible destination," said Aletha from the doorway. "Considering lunch is ready."

"The cubs just called, they won't be home for it," Sirius said, standing up. "They're eating at the Weasleys' house. They've made friends with a couple of the children."

"That was quick." Aletha preceded the men out of the room.

"From what I could gather, they found the youngest boy, who's their age, being teased by his older brothers and took his side."

"Like us and Peter?" Remus said lightly. "That is how we met him, if I recall correctly."

Sirius winced. "Well, yes. But I hope this friendship won't end up like that one did."

"Since Voldemort's gone, I find it highly unlikely," Aletha said thankfully.

"It's always possible he could come back," Remus pointed out. "No one ever found a body. He just hasn't been seen since that night."

"Must we discuss horrible things on such a nice day?" Aletha asked.

"Better than discussing them on a horrible day. Then they'd only make us feel worse. Now, when we feel horrible after discussing horrible things, we have the niceness of the day to cheer us up."

Aletha shook her head as they arrived in the kitchen. "Danger, do me a favor," she said. "Shut this ravening maniac up."

"Gladly." "Speak, cousin, or if thou canst not, stop his mouth with a kiss and let not him speak neither."

And a nicer way of being shut up I've yet to encounter...