Living with Danger

Chapter 35: One Is Silver

The fire in the great fireplace in the Hogwarts kitchens flared green. One Headmaster and one house-elf waited in front of it, patiently and impatiently respectively.

"Master Draco!" Dobby cried as that child emerged from the fire. Draco quickly stepped to one side and braced himself for an enthusiastic house-elf hug. The rest of the Pack had arrived before Dobby let go.

"Dobby, I told you, I'm not your master now," Draco said with a bit of embarrassment, since Harry and Neenie were obviously trying not to laugh at the sight of Dobby hugging Draco tightly around the waist.

"Dobby knows that, sir, but it makes Dobby feel good to call Master Draco his master. Dobby does not feel quite so..." Dobby glanced behind him at the other house-elves. "Out of place, then."

"If he likes to call you that, let him, Draco," Sirius advised with a chuckle, turning from greeting Dumbledore. "House-elves can be persistent little bu... er, things," he amended hastily at Aletha's warning look.

A house-elf passing by stopped dead in its tracks and stared at Sirius. "Sirius Black, sir?" it said in its squeaky voice.

The kitchen went completely quiet.

"None of you are to speak of this," Dumbledore said into the silence. A chorus of voices assured him that they would not, oh, no sir, they would never speak of such a thing, not if Professor Dumbledore said not to, sir.

Sirius was still staring at the house-elf. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Got it. Kady."

"Sir remembers Kady?" the elf squealed happily. She - name and voice seemed both to indicate a female - was beaming at Sirius.

"How could I forget you? You always brought me a bucket of water when I needed it the most."

Kady beamed even more widely. Remus had a brief struggle to keep his face straight, which he lost. Within a few moments, he was howling with laughter.

"What in the world is so funny?" Danger asked.

When he says he needed it, he really means he needed it, Remus explained mentally, his voice being not overly useful at the moment. Him and James both. Haven't I ever told you about seventh year?

Ah, the famous pre-N.E.W.T. drinking sprees?

Precisely. And Kady would occasionally have to apply the water herself, if they were too far gone to stick their heads in the bucket.

Now Danger was laughing too. Wonderful. Didn't you have something to do with this?

No, I was their put-to-bed person, the nights they didn't have to sober up quickly. The water was for the nights they did. Though I would occasionally come down here to watch them stagger around the kitchens singing off-key.

"If you're quite finished..." Sirius said with dignity.

This, of course, only set Remus and Danger off again.

----------

Some time later, the Pack was ensconced by the fire, sipping tea (for the adults) or butterbeer (for the children and Sirius) and simply chatting.

"We don't see you as much any more, now that we don't have a legitimate excuse to come and visit like we did when Letha was Ministry Liaison," Danger said. "Who have they put in, by the way?"

"Not that Umbridge woman, I hope," Aletha said.

"No, the Ministry has simply eliminated the position," Dumbledore said with a slight smile. "I am under the impression that Lars Vilias felt it a waste of time and money to have someone in that capacity, but was too kind to order you fired or demoted, Aletha, so that your disappearance actually saved him some trouble."

"Always happy to help," Aletha said with a smile. "So, are there any fun rumors about us?"

"Only the usual set - someone eventually did recall your romantic connection to Aletha, Sirius, but deemed it too unlikely that you would wait five years after escaping before kidnapping her."

"And no one's ever realized that Harry disappeared before Sirius escaped?" Remus asked.

"Only a very few. Even Severus Snape was unaware of the fact before I told him of it."

Sirius sighed. "I'm still not happy with that," he said. "I know it isn't safe to try to erase the same memories twice, so we can't Obliviate him, but I can't help feeling it's a mistake for him to know."

"Severus Snape is trustworthy, Sirius, as much as I know you question the fact."

"Trustworthy, yes," Remus said. "Helpful, I doubt."

The door of the kitchens swung open.

"Speak of the devil," Danger murmured.

Snape, in all his black and billowing glory, strode into the kitchens, scattering house-elves left and right, making straight for Dumbledore.

"Yes, Severus?" Dumbledore said politely.

"Weasley and Tonks," Snape ground out, granting the Pack only a cursory glance. "They seem to have decided to celebrate Valentine's Day a week early. By decorating my office with red and white sequins. And then by releasing a niffler within."

"And you are certain of the identity of the culprits?" Dumbledore asked as Sirius coughed and spluttered, his butterbeer having gone up his nose. Aletha handed him a napkin, her mouth twitching. Remus and Danger were studiously avoiding each other's eyes, both sets of which were swirling with color. Hermione's lips appeared to have disappeared in her struggle to keep from laughing, and the boys were both staring at the wall. Meghan had stuffed her sleeve in her mouth.

"Positive," Snape said venomously. "They signed their work." He handed Dumbledore a piece of parchment.

"From the red-haired dragon-mad twit and his color-changing sidekick," Dumbledore read aloud. "This does seem quite convincing, Severus. But why bring it to me? Surely you are capable of handling the situation yourself?"

Snape scowled. "Minerva swears they did not do it," he said pointedly, "and she has stated her intention of reversing any punishments I may give them."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Well, Severus, I will look into it, and if these two students are guilty, you may punish them as you see fit. If, however, they are not, rest assured I will find out the true culprit and bring him - or her, or them - to you for proper chastisement."

"Thank you, Headmaster." Snape turned and stalked away. He was almost to the door when he stopped. Very slowly, he turned around and gave the group by the fire a hard, searching look.

The Pack waved to him, cheerily, nonchalantly, or cheekily, varying by temperament, age, and interest.

Snape's face contorted, and without another word he swept out.

The Pack managed to wait until the door was closed behind him before bursting into laughter.

----------

1 April, 1989, began quietly at the Den. Very quietly.

After all, if one was going to get in and out of Moony and Danger's bedroom without waking them, one needed to be quiet, Harry reflected. And he had to do it twice.

Draco and Meghan met him and Neenie in the hallway with their bags full of stuff. They traded and returned to the places they had come from, replacing what they had taken.

Then they returned to their own bedroom.

That was their first mistake.

Hermione, who was in the lead, screamed as a cascade of water drenched her the moment she stepped through the door. Harry stepped hastily back from the doorway, but he was too late. The charm had already taken effect on him, and a bucket appeared directly above him, tipping over, dumping its contents on him, and vanishing a moment later.

That's COLD!

Draco and Meghan stifled laughs. Harry glared at them, then grabbed Draco's arm and propelled him through the door, triggering the charm on him. "See how you like it," he said, shivering. The water hadn't gotten on the floor, he noticed, or on anything except them. It must be nice to be a grown-up.

Meghan smiled proudly. "I'm dry and you're not, I'm dry and you're not," she chanted, dancing out of Harry's reach. "I'm dry and you're not..."

Draco came back out of the room, dripping, and looked at Harry. They exchanged nods, and swiftly moved to box Meghan in. She shrieked as they cornered her and picked her up off the ground between them. Neenie darted ahead of them into the bathroom, where she turned on the shower, full strength, with cold water.

Meghan kicked and screeched and tried to pull their hair, but the boys managed to dump her into the bathtub and hold her under the shower for a few moments.

"There. Now we're all wet," Neenie said, pushing her hair out of her way.

"And loud, too," Moony said from the doorway as a spluttering Meghan turned the water off. "Happy April Fools, cubs."

"Fool, fool, April fool, you learn naught by going to school," they chanted with him.

"Get changed and dry and come down to breakfast," Danger said from behind him. "It should be ready in about half an hour."

The cubs nodded solemnly, exactly as if they didn't know there would be a slight delay.

----------

Brushing her teeth, Danger sensed bemusement in the bedroom. What's wrong?

These are not my pants.

They're not?

No. They're... well, you look.

Danger turned around. No, those aren't yours, she agreed, observing the size of the garments Remus was holding up for her inspection. But they do look familiar. Do you think...

"'Scuse me, but do these belong to you?" Sirius' voice said from the direction of the door. A ball of fabric landed in Remus' arms. "They certainly don't fit me. And I'll take the ones you're holding, if you don't mind."

Danger sighed. I think I see.

I know I see. "You'd better check for everything else while you're at it," Remus said dryly. "It's probably all been exchanged."

"All of it?"

"So that's what they were doing up so early," Aletha's voice said. "Danger, may I look?"

"Go ahead, it's nothing you haven't seen before." Aletha usually did the family laundry, although everyone helped out from time to time, as eight people made a lot of dirty clothes.

"Yes, these are mine," Aletha said as she slid drawers open and shut. "They did a good job, kept everything all nicely folded - tell you what, why don't we just switch bedrooms for the morning. Then we can replace everything after we eat."

----------

The twins decided that, since it was their last spring at home, they should make it memorable, and declared open season on small people, prank-wise.

Unfortunately for them, they had no idea who they were dealing with. After two or three rounds of pranking back and forth, the cubs got Moony and Padfoot to help them plan a master prank, and the twins admitted defeat.

As George said, "Pink is not a good look for us."

The spring and summer, after that, were mostly peaceful.

----------

The woman stood among the trees, cloaked in black although the day was warm. From the clearing ahead, she could hear music. Slowly, carefully, she moved closer, until she could see the people in the clearing, but they could not see her.

The musicians sat on one side of the clearing - a blond boy with a pipe and a red-haired one with a small hand drum. The melody and rhythm they played combined to give the scene an unreal feeling, as if she had been transported thousands of years into the past. The other children present, three or four of them, were all looking in one direction, and as she turned to look that way as well, her feeling of displacement intensified.

The child wore a white dress which left her arms entirely bare and showed her legs to the knee. She was slender and small, dark-skinned and dark-haired, barefoot and bareheaded, and she was dancing. She looked like the spirit of the summer come to life, light-footed and free, unconstrained by such rude things as gravity or time. Each movement seemed to tell a story, if only the watcher knew how to interpret them. Her leaps and twirls seemed to last forever.

She was beautiful.

The melody wound to a close. The girl sank to her knees, breathing hard, as her audience applauded her.

The woman slipped back into the trees and Disapparated carefully, making only the faintest of noises. No one would ever need to know that she had come. She had seen what she needed to.

He was happy and had friends. That was all she needed to know.

----------

For Harry's birthday, at his request, the entire Pack went up to London and spent the day at the Zoo. "Take you to the monkey house and let you have a family reunion, Padfoot," Moony teased.

"And then we can go by the wolf exhibit for yours," Sirius retorted.

Harry, of course, wanted to spend some time by himself in the reptile house, and after giving him strict instructions on when and where to meet them, the Pack allowed it.

Harry leaned against the railing and looked in at the largest snake. It was a Brazilian boa constrictor, and it seemed to be fast asleep. He wasn't surprised. After all, what else was there for it to do?

"What do you do for fun?" he asked softly, not expecting an answer.

"Look at the humans and see which of them appear toothsome," one came anyway. The snake raised its head. "That's interesting. A human who speaks my language?"

Harry shrugged. "Does that bother you?"

"Of course not. It's been a long time since I've had a decent conversation with anyone. My name is Hassisasseth. What's yours?"

"Harry. Can I call you Seth?"

"Why not. So, Harry, what do you do for fun?"

"I play with my friends and siblings."

"You have nest-mates?" This was the literal translation of the Parseltongue word for siblings. "How lucky for you. All mine are gone. I ate some of them, and the rest are probably long dead."

Harry did not shiver at the snake's casual mention of eating his own brothers and sisters. It had bothered him a lot when he first began to talk to snakes, but his Pack-parents had helped him understand. Snakes weren't humans, so they did things humans wouldn't do. Just like humans did things snakes wouldn't do. No snake had ever beaten a child, or locked one up. "I'm sorry."

"It is the way of life. Ahhhhh..."

It was a long-drawn-out exhalation of pleasure. "What?"

"How I would love to get my coils around that..." Seth said with longing in his voice.

"Around what?" Harry asked.

"Behind you, silly human egg."

Harry turned. A rather large boy about Harry's own age had just come into the reptile house, following a woman with two or three other boys in tow. He had blond hair and a fat, pouty face, and he made Harry feel odd. As if he should know this boy, but didn't...

"They do not feed me nearly enough," Seth said. "Would he not make a glorious meal? A bulge two months in digesting..."

Harry's imagination provided a vivid picture of the boy inside Seth, and before he could stop himself, he laughed aloud.

The sound rang and echoed in the quiet cool of the reptile house. Everyone turned to see what it was.

The boy looked at Harry with distaste. "Are you laughing at me?" he demanded.

Harry shook his head.

"You are too," the boy said angrily, starting to advance on Harry. "I don't like it when people laugh at me. What's so funny about me, then? You want to share? You want to? Huh?"

Harry took a step back and found himself against the rail already.

"I'll teach you to laugh at me," the boy snarled, and swung his fist back.

Harry ducked.

The boy's fist passed over Harry's head and into the glass of Seth's exhibit.

Or it would have, if the glass had still been there.

Carried away by the force of his swing, the boy toppled over the railing and into Seth's small pond with a splash.

"Did you do that?" Seth inquired, appearing beside Harry, wrapped around the bottom supports of the railing. "Thanks."

"Er, well, I didn't mean to," Harry said unhappily. "And I really shouldn't have. I'll see you around, Seth, good luck..."

Quickly, he straightened up and raced out of the reptile house before anyone could connect him with the yelping, spluttering, soaked boy in the boa constrictor exhibit.

"I'm in trouble," he panted out to Padfoot, who was the first Pack-parent he found, holding Meghan up to look at the parrots. "There was a boy - and the glass - I didn't mean to - "

"Hold on," Padfoot said, lowering Meghan to the ground. "Catch your breath. Is anyone hurt or dead?"

"No."

"Did you do anything visible?"

"I made the glass on one of the snake exhibits disappear."

"Why?"

Harry explained about the boy and Seth, and what had happened.

"Accidental magic," Padfoot said in a tone of certainty. "And the boy's not hurt?"

"I don't think so."

"Then our best bet is to change your appearance ever so slightly, so they can't find you if anyone did see you. Hold still." Padfoot looked around him, then pulled out his wand and changed Harry's red shirt to a blue one, and his black pants to tan. He also pointed the wand at Harry's head, and Harry felt the soft-breeze-touch of a glamour charm pass by him.

"What was that?"

"Blond tips on your hair," Padfoot said, conjuring a mirror so Harry could see himself. "You like it?"

"Can I keep it?" Harry asked, admiring himself.

"If you want to. Consider it a birthday present. Come on, let's go find everyone else. Birthday boys deserve ice cream."

----------

Soon after Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the twins left for Hogwarts, a new subject was introduced into the cubs' curriculum.

Dancing.

Partner dancing.

The response from everyone was the same:

"We have to dance with boys?" squealed the girls.

"We have to dance with girls?" yelped the boys.

"And, of course, it doesn't matter that they play together every day anyway," Aletha said with a sigh one evening.

"Well, they often play with everyone," Danger said. "But then sometimes Harry and Ron go off together - well, all right, a lot of times Harry and Ron go off together, usually because Draco wants to stay home and do his music. And then he plays with Luna, since she's the most musically interested of the others. And Ginny will sometimes play with Neenie and Meghan, but often they don't want to play what she does, and she'd love to play with Harry and Ron, and sometimes they let her, but sometimes she's the dreaded girl and they don't..."

"In other words, it's hopelessly mixed up and it changes every day," Sirius said.

"Right. They're all friends, but who's close with whom and who will play with whom changes sometimes every hour - sometimes every minute."

"Fine, then," Remus said. "Declare brother-sister dancing. Have Harry dance with Neenie and Ron with Ginny."

"What about Luna? She doesn't have a brother."

"She also doesn't have any qualms about holding hands with Draco. And I think he'll be a good sport about partnering her for the sake of learning."

And so it was done. Sirius taught the cubs the steps of the set dances that all moneyed purebloods learned, with Danger as his partner and Aletha providing the music. There was little trouble with these, mostly because the only touching involved was holding hands or pressing palms together.

Remus had the really hard job, which was teaching the cubs basic ballroom steps. He managed surprisingly well - the hardest part was getting them to stay in the correct positions relative to each other.

But the real test came one day in October, when Remus took full advantage of an opportunity.

----------

"Luna's sick today and can't come, so Draco has to dance with Meghan," Moony announced. "Now, this isn't fair to him. She's a good dancer, but they've never danced together before. So I want to make it fair to everyone. Switch partners."

"What?" Ron said in astonishment. "You want me to dance with her?" He pointed at Hermione.

"I guarantee she doesn't have anything catching," Moony said dryly. "Go ahead, you can touch her."

"I don't want to touch him," Hermione protested. "He's gross."

"I am not gross!"

"Who came home all muddy the other day?"

"I fell in the mud!"

"Oh, right. You fell in the mud. And then you rolled around in it for a while."

Ginny looked over at Harry and shrugged as Ron and Hermione continued to snap back and forth. Harry made a decision. "My lady," he said loudly, bowing to Ginny and cutting off the incipient argument. "Will you favor me with this dance?"

Draco took his cue and bowed to Meghan, who curtsied at the same moment as Ginny. Aletha began to play, a slow waltz, and the two couples set themselves and began to move to the music. Harry was careful not to step on Ginny's toes, and Ginny seemed to be taking the same care. At least, she was looking at the floor an awful lot.

Ron and Hermione glared at each other for one more moment, then grudgingly took the waltz position and began to dance. After a moment, Hermione gasped, and Ron blushed and muttered an apology.

"No, it's my fault," Hermione said, blushing a bit herself. "My foot was in the wrong place. Try again?"

Ron smiled a little. "All right."

----------

Unseen by the cubs, Remus and Danger exchanged smug looks.

My lady, will you favor me with this dance?

Stealing lines from your own Pack-son, man? Have you no shame?

No. None at all. You should know that.

Oh, and I do, I do...

And then there were four couples waltzing in the Blacks' living room.

----------

The Weasleys hosted that year's Christmas party for all three families. Sirius was returning from a trip to the punch bowl when he saw something unusual. And familiar.

An old, tattered piece of parchment, which he had last seen in the hands of Argus Filch...

"Moony," he said quietly. "Look what the twins have."

"Is that..."

"Sure looks like it."

Remus grinned. "Should we give them a hand with it?"

"Why not."

Casually, the two men moved to flank the twins, who were tapping the surface of the parchment with their wands and muttering things.

"What've you got there?" Remus asked.

George jumped. "Nothing," he said hastily, trying to hide the parchment under a pillow on the couch.

"Doesn't look like nothing," Sirius said, pulling out his own wand. "Accio Parchment!"

The twins winced as the parchment soared into Sirius' hand. "It's just an old bit of parchment," Fred said too earnestly. "Nothing to get excited over."

"Oh, really now," Remus said. He drew his wand. "Reveal your secrets," he said, touching his wand to the parchment.

Make me, the Map printed. Sirius and Remus grinned at each other.

"That's all it'll do for us either," George said, sounding frustrated. "We know it must be something good - we nicked it off Filch - but we can't figure out what."

"Why don't you try asking?" Sirius suggested.

"Asking?"

"Yes. Ask the - parchment - what it is."

The twins looked at each other. "Can't hurt," Fred said, and touched his wand to the center of the square, which Sirius handed back to him. "What are you?"

I am the Marauders' Map, an Aid to Magical Mischief-Makers.

"Wicked," the twins said together, grinning.

"Map of what?" George asked.

Hogwarts and its grounds, along with all the people therein.

"All the people?"

All the people. Where they are, who they are, all the time.

Fred took a deep breath, nerving himself up for the big question. "How can we work you?"

You must solemnly swear that you are up to no good.

"Erm, all right," George said in a bemused tone, his wand still touching the map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Remus and Sirius decided this would be a good moment to withdraw, before the twins thought to ask how they had known what to do with the Map.

"Worthy successors to our tradition, Mr. Moony," Sirius said in tones of satisfaction.

"Worthy successors indeed, Mr. Padfoot. But we're going to have to cut out the nicknames from now on. They might hear us."

Sirius winced. "Hadn't thought of that. Damn Wormtail anyway."

----------

Several stories up, if Sirius had only known it, the object of his curse slept soundly in his cage.

----------

Chapter 36: And the Other's Gold

Draco lay in the sun and hummed to himself.

Happy half-birthday to me,

Happy half-birthday to me...

"Sun worshiper," Letha said teasingly from behind him.

Draco rolled over lazily, since his back was warm enough and his stomach was cool, and smiled at his Pack-mother, upside down as everything was at the moment. "There isn't much in January. I have to get it while I can."

"You be careful. Even if there isn't much sun, you burn quicker than anyone I know."

Draco made a face. "It's because I'm so pale. Why couldn't I be darker, like Harry or Neenie, or really dark like you or Meghan?"

"No, it must be something other than just your being pale," Letha said thoughtfully, "because Moony's almost as pale as you are, and I've never seen him with a sunburn."

"Is someone taking my name in vain?" Moony asked from somewhere nearby.

"Just commenting on how you don't get sunburned."

Moony walked into Draco's frame of vision. "That's because, unlike some people, I'm intelligent enough to remember to wear sunblock. You really need not to coddle him this summer, Letha. Even if he does say that your massages make his back feel better."

"Oh, but I can't stand to see my loving husband in pain," Letha said in a sappy-devoted tone. "And if something my poor skills can do will ease his anguish, who am I to withhold it?"

"What a proper wifely attitude," Padfoot's voice said unexpectedly, and Letha squeaked.

Draco didn't bother to look. He had no desire to watch people kissing.

Why do they do that anyway? It must be fun somehow. Maybe I'll find out someday.

He thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. Nah. Not interested.

----------

27 March, 1990

Vernon -

Enclosed find the money you requested and my new address. Yes, another one, and you needn't make a fuss, because it's the best I could do. I am as well as can be expected and looking forward to seeing you in June - it is still June? Please let me know.

Petunia

----------

30 March, 1990

Dear Petunia,

Yes, it is still June, if nothing else goes wrong. I've never seen such a run of bad luck. Chin up, dearest, we'll pull through somehow. When I get home, the first thing I want to do is -

(A few paragraphs of rather graphic endearments are omitted.)

Have you had any luck concerning our son?

Yours,

Vernon

----------

4 April, 1990

Dearest Vernon,

No luck with our Duddikins yet. They say I still haven't proved I can take care of him. Six months, they say. Six months in one place, with one job. Perhaps you can help me manage it once you're back.

Imagine, Vernon, the three of us together again. Just a normal family, with nothing at all strange or odd about us. I can't think of anything I want more.

And as for your homecoming, the first thing I want to do is -

(A page of extremely graphic endearments is omitted.)

All my love,

Petunia

----------

It was a marshy April day, and Ron, Harry, and Draco had been out jumping in puddles, a pastime in which they delighted. The girls had elected to stay home, much to their mothers' relief.

Three rather damp boys sloshed up the path to the kitchen door of the Burrow and stepped inside before they noticed the argument in progress.

" - warning you, Weasley, if you come around my house again waving your Ministry writs and demanding to search, I'll - " The speaker, a man who would have been puny if it weren't for his air of self-importance, broke off, looking at the boys in their hooded raincoats and boots. "Well, what have we here?"

Beside Harry, Draco froze.

"My son and some of his friends," Mr. Weasley said coldly. "Go upstairs and play, boys, this doesn't concern you."

"Yes, sir," Ron said, and began peeling off his rain gear even faster than before.

Harry turned back to Draco. "What's wrong?"

"I know him," Draco said quietly, bending down to take his boots off. "I know his voice. He used to visit the manor. He might know me if I take my hood down."

"Everyone is under the law, Nott, no matter how much gold you have," Mr. Weasley was saying.

"Don't say anything," Harry cautioned Draco as the boys finished shedding their outer clothes. He slapped Draco's arm and shouted, "Tag!"

Ron caught on immediately and ran across the kitchen and up the stairs with Harry. "Hey, no fair!" Draco yelled, and ran after them.

"I told you not to talk," Harry said emphatically at the first landing.

"I didn't talk. I yelled."

Harry sighed.

"You look like your dads when you do that," Ron noted. "Only reversed. I mean, you look like Mr. Pat," he pointed at Draco, "and you look like Mr. John, Harry. If that makes any sense."

Draco shrugged. "We grew up with them both, it makes sense. Come on, let's go see what the girls are doing."

----------

"What are their names?" Patroclus Nott asked.

"The boys? I don't see why you'd be interested in them."

"Call it curiosity."

"Harry and Drake Black. Cousins. They live in the village with their parents."

"Wizards, I assume. Even you would hardly let your child run around with Muggles to that extent."

Arthur Weasley gave a small, tight nod.

Drake. An unusual name. But a coincidence, surely. He may be the right age, but his looks are all wrong. If he were the Malfoys' son, he would be much paler, a silver-blond as I remember Lucius being, not this boy's syrup color.

And I need not even begin to comment on his behavior.

Still, it does give me an idea for tonight's story...

Patroclus Nott understood the value of his son and heir, Theodore. He personally oversaw the selection of the boy's tutors, and he spent an hour with the child every day, usually before his bedtime. Often he would tell Theodore a bedtime story. The practice, although vulgar in and of itself, was invaluable for indoctrinating the child with the truths of his world.

And one of the most useful stories I have is the one of The Boy Who Disappeared. For I can make up hundreds, thousands, of fates for Draco Malfoy, each as improbable and each as possible as the next. And depending on what Theodore has done that day, the fate of the boy in the story will occur because of some crime or fault he committed himself.

Theodore always came when he was called, due to several renditions of a tale in which the Malfoys' son had been eaten by a werewolf after not coming indoors when he should have. His table manners were exquisite, thanks to the story that Draco's mother had murdered him and buried his body beneath the floorboards of the kitchen for slurping his soup. It helped, of course, that Theodore seldom saw his mother except at mealtimes.

So tonight, I think, the ultimate horror.

Tonight, I tell the tale of Draco Malfoy, stolen from his family and raised by Mudbloods.

----------

"... he worked all day, like a house-elf, with never a word of thanks or a look of gratitude. All that he got in return were pitiful meals, outworn castoff clothing, and a pallet in a corner of the kitchen. The children of the household lorded it over him, ordering him around, and the adults gave him orders and blows in equal measure. And worst of all, he did not even know that he was a wizard, for it had been hidden from him by his 'masters'. He knew that they were witches and wizards - though, being Mudbloods, their power was pathetically weak - but he did not know it of himself."

Ah, Aristotle. Pity and fear, the two emotions you said drama should evoke, and my darling Theodore feels them both. Pity for the boy in the story, and fear that such a thing could happen to him...

----------

"You get back here, Draco Black, don't you dare leave your brother and sisters with all the work!"

"But Danger, I have to practice tonight, so I'll be ready for Luna's lesson tomorrow!"

"You can practice after the table's clear. Come on."

"All right."

"Thank you, love," Danger said, dropping a kiss on Draco's head as he passed.

"What's for dessert?" Draco asked, starting to stack the plates.

"Harry and I made cupcakes this afternoon."

"You made cupcakes?" Draco stared at his brother. "I'm not eating them."

"They're perfectly fine," Padfoot said, smacking Draco lightly in the back of the head with the clean end of the wooden spoon he was carrying. "I had three, and I'm not sick, am I?"

"No, but you should be," Moony said. "You have the most amazing appetite, Sirius. I've never met anyone who eats as much as you."

"Ron Weasley eats a lot," Hermione said, half-turning from the sink where she was rinsing the dishes that Letha was washing. "Almost as much as Padfoot."

"And he's barely turned ten..." Danger said in tones of wonder.

"We'd better warn the house-elves next time we visit Hogwarts, then," Draco said, carrying his stack of dishes to the sink.

"All right," Meghan said, collecting the cutlery. "You can warn them about yourself when you do."

"I don't eat that much!"

"Oh yeah?" Meghan stuck her tongue out. "You should watch yourself some time."

"How?" Draco demanded with some justice.

"Oh, bother," Neenie said unhappily.

"What?" asked two or three voices together.

"I've got a stain on my blouse."

"You've almost outgrown it anyway," Aletha said practically. "And there's a hole in the sleeve."

"We need to go shopping sometime soon, everyone's getting too big for their clothes again," Danger said, making a note on the to-do list that always sat on the desk in the corner of the kitchen. "You know," she said to Moony, "maybe if we didn't feed them so much, they wouldn't grow so fast..."

The cubs booed.

----------

"What happened to him, Father?" Theodore asked, wide-eyed. "Did he ever escape? Did he ever find out he was a wizard, and get to Hogwarts?"

"You shall have to tell me, my son," Patroclus said seriously. "Draco Malfoy is your age, after all. Keep your eyes open on your first day of school. And if you happen to see a small and skinny boy with pale blond hair, in clothes too large for him, who looks as if he does not know what to do, do offer to be his friend."

"I will," Theodore promised solemnly.

But, of course, you will never meet such a child. Draco Malfoy is in all probability long dead.

----------

On 14 June, 1990, many things happened, but only two of them were at all important to this narrative. Firstly, Luna Lovegood celebrated the ninth anniversary of her birth with a small party at her home, involving her parents, her three best female friends, and, more peripherally, their brothers.

Secondly, Vernon Dursley became something he had not been for more than eight years.

Free.

Petunia was waiting for him in the parking lot of the police station where he was released from. They drove to her small flat in silence.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were not so silent. In fact, the neighbors complained the next day. Vernon and Petunia were highly apologetic, "but you understand, he's had to be away for so long, and we've missed each other terribly..."

Then the Dursleys began to make plans.

Find Vernon a job, of course, was high on the list.

In six months, reapply for custody of Dudley came only slightly below it.

But there was no doubt in the mind of either Mr. or Mrs. Dursley that if they had not taken their nephew in on that fateful November morning, this would never have happened to them.

And so number one on their list was, Never permit those abnormal freaks to come near us again.

----------

It has been said that God has a sense of humor. Those who do not believe in God still admit that often the universe does seem skewed slightly towards the odd and humorous.

That which had struck down the Dursleys with the Threefold Curse of the Righteous - addressed in the invocation as "All that is right and good in the world" - might not be God, or a god, but it most certainly had a sense of humor.

----------

"Gentlemen," Sirius said, addressing Fred and George Weasley politely if perhaps not accurately. The twins were sitting on identical Cleansweep-model brooms, belated twelfth birthday gifts from their parents. "We are here to teach you the noble art of Beating."

"The most important part of Beating is awareness," Aletha took over the talk. "Never lose track of where your partner is, where the Bludgers are, where the other Beaters are. You two have an edge, being twins - you're used to sensing where the other one is. If you practice enough with your partner, you should be able to do things like this."

She waved to Harry, who released one of the Bludgers from its box. It swooped up, hovered for a moment as if getting its bearings, then went straight for Sirius and Aletha. They moved from a hover into fast, even flight, with the Bludger chasing them, and without even seeming to consult with each other, they swung their bats smoothly up and around, trapping the Bludger between them.

"The Black Sandwich," Sirius said, wheeling around in the air as Aletha pivoted. "Patent pending."

They released the Bludger, and Aletha struck it a hard blow, sending it flying down the clearing toward the twins. George brought his bat up and around, hitting the Bludger back up towards the adults, and the game was on. At first, it was simply a game of volleys, but then Sirius hit the Bludger to Aletha instead of to the twins, and it became a flying game of Keep-Away. That, in turn, mutated into "let-the-Bludger-chase-your-partner", which ended when Fred missed his swing and hit George in the head.

"We'll keep training with you as long as you want," Aletha promised as they landed. "You're pretty good already - by this fall, you should be spectacular."

"Pretty good, nothing," Sirius said. "You're excellent. You fly like human Bludgers."

"Remember, though," Aletha cautioned, "hitting your opponents with your bats, although satisfying, is against the rules, and generally frowned upon."

"Depends on who you're playing against, and who's refereeing," Sirius pointed out. "But I wouldn't want to encourage you to break the rules."

"You wouldn't?" Aletha, Harry, and the twins said in chorus.

Sirius smiled his most charmingly. "Well - not in public."

----------

Anita Lovegood had a new project that fall. One she had been hoping to do for quite a long time, but had never had the time for until now.

She was going to see if she couldn't improve upon the basic scrying spell.

It was so limited, after all. One could only shift the view so far before one had to choose a new focus point, and then the view was curtailed by that. And often, depending on how powerful and skilled you were, you couldn't even see the next town, much less another country.

Anita's dream was to create a simple, workable scrying spell that would allow anyone to see as far as they wanted. She knew it was unlikely to come true, but wasn't that the point of having a dream?

She heard the door behind her open and close. No voice announced its presence. Luna, then. Her daughter had permission to come and go from the workroom as she liked, unless specifically forbidden to enter or told to leave. And this should be just fine for her to see. In fact, it would be useful to have another set of eyes around. Sometimes scrys refused to be seen by anyone but their caster. Anita hoped to work around this limitation as well.

"Where are your friends?" she asked without turning around, uncorking the bottle where she kept the potion she scryed in.

"Outside playing Hogwarts," Luna said. "Neenie is the professor. She's setting everyone lessons. I don't want to do lessons. So I came in."

"Yes, Neenie is rather the professor type," Anita agreed, pouring the silvery potion into a bowl. "But you seem to like her a lot, Luna. Will you miss her when she goes away to school next year?"

"She'll only be there for a year before I'll be there too," Luna said philosophically. "And Ginny will still be here with me, and Meghan Black. And you and Dad will still be here."

"That's right, moon girl," Anita said lovingly, lifting the filled bowl and turning to Luna, who was sitting in her usual chair at Anita's worktable. "We'll always be here with you." She carried the bowl carefully to the table and sat down in her own chair.

"Are you scrying?" Luna asked. "What for?"

"Well, I thought I'd start with the Weasleys and the Blacks. I doubt they'll mind if I invade their privacy just a tad."

The scry displayed the interior of the Burrow perfectly well, revealing Molly Weasley happily listening to the wireless and knitting, but refused to show the inside, or even the outside, of the Marauders' Den. "That's odd," Anita said, frowning. "It's as if they've put anti-scrying on their house. I wonder why they'd do that."

Luna gazed into the bowl. "Maybe they don't want to be spied on," she said dreamily. "Can we look at something else?"

"All right," Anita said, smiling fondly at her most unusual but quite lovable daughter. "Let's try for distance now."

She began the spell, setting it on the coast of the English Channel. Then across, to France. Farther and farther she went, through the continent of Europe, skipping from cities to villages, from fields to forests. It was crystal clear, every detail of the picture perfect. Anita felt a thrill of triumph.

Then she stopped, shivering.

Why am I cold?

She looked deeper into the bowl.

The scry showed a patch of forest, one where the shadows seemed to lie unusually thick and deep. Nothing moved among the trees - no animals, no birds, nothing. But no, wait, was that something behind that tree?

Anita moved to fix her scry on the flicker of movement she had seen -

And her bowl exploded into a million pointed fragments, all shooting outwards, outwards towards her -

Towards Luna -

Anita dove at her daughter, knocking her to the floor, sheltering her child with her own body -

Pain, everywhere, but mostly in her chest and her throat -

And then nothing.

----------

Gerald Lovegood was in his study when he heard the muffled sound of shattering pottery.

He found his daughter staring at her mother's bleeding body. "She protected me," Luna said, her eyes wide with astonishment and confusion. "The bowl exploded. She protected me."

Gerald stared at his wife's body for one more moment, then gathered his child to his chest and began to sob. Luna wept with him, almost silently, as though she still did not understand.

Carrie Black found them still standing like that when she stepped through the fire nearly an hour later, to keep her lunch date with Anita.

It was 25 September, 1990, and Luna's life had changed forever.

----------

Luna cried for her mother for nearly a month, then gradually seemed to return to normal, as much as normal had ever applied to her. Gerald was still pale and thin, often working late hours and asking Molly Weasley or Carrie or Danger Black to watch Luna until he returned.

"I have her ring," Luna said to her wide-eyed, listening circle of friends one day in November. "Her wedding ring. Dad gave it to me." She pulled a chain out of her blouse with the ring hanging from it.

The Black children all pressed a hand to their chests simultaneously.

"She loved me very much," Luna said solemnly. "And I miss her a lot."

Drake looked like he wanted to say something. Luna turned to him, waiting.

"I know you do," he said finally, sounding a bit uncomfortable, but as if he had to say whatever it was. "And you always will. But I'm glad you're better. It wasn't the same without you."

Luna gave a small smile. "Thank you," she said. "Do you want to work on our duet piece now?"

"If you do." Drake stood up too, and headed for the stairs to get his flute from the bedroom. Luna went to the piano and began her warming-up exercises.

As Drake returned with his instrument, Luna modulated her scales into something else. It began with a low, steady beat in the left hand, then began a playful-sounding melody in the right, which returned again and again, always a little bit different but always recognizable. The piece ended abruptly, with a strange, dissonant chord which lingered in the air.

"I wrote that," Luna said quietly into the listening silence. "For my mother."

The silence lasted another moment. Then Harry began quietly to applaud. Hermione and Ron followed him. Ginny and Meghan joined in. Both were crying openly.

When the applause had stopped, Luna nodded to her audience, then glanced at Drake to make sure he was ready, and without further preamble began the opening measures of their piano/flute duet.

----------

Danger's birthday cake that December had thirty candles on it. Before blowing them out, she very pointedly closed her connection with Remus.

What was that for? he asked as soon as she reopened it, having blown out all thirty with one breath.

They say if you tell what you wish for, it won't come true.

As long as you're not wishing for something like me to wake up tomorrow covered in purple polka dots.

Not a bad idea, but no.

Remus groaned mentally. Damn it, I forgot the first rule of living with other pranksters.

Never, ever, ever say anything that could be construed as a suggestion?

Yes.

Too bad for you, then.

----------

The next morning...

You are going DOWN, woman.

Why? They're not purple. They're orange. It's a better color for you anyway.

----------

The month went on, and Christmas decorations began to pop up everywhere. Even the offices at the Ministry sported them.

The latest arrival at the Floo Network Authority did not appreciate them. She had not appreciated anything for a long time.

They will not escape my wrath forever, she had said once in righteous indignation. But that had been six years ago, and she was no closer to finding out who had so grievously injured her master and ruined his good name forever than she had been at the time.

And he was no closer to power. That rankled her the most. That he, who was so good, so capable, should be denied the office he so richly deserved.

Her own demotion was a minor, but also bothersome, point.

This office is such a mess. There are notices and files from two and three years ago simply lying about.

To take her mind off her troubles, she decided to organize the place.

For other reasons as well, of course.

Everything I do is done with an eye to advancement. The higher I go, the more power I gain, the more likely I am to find them, and the more able I will be to help him return to his rightful place.

Several long, dreary hours later, she began on yet another pile of fireplace name-change forms.

And stopped dead, staring at the one in her hand.

Date: 14 January, 1988

Fireplace Name Requested: The Marauders' Den

Current Name of Fireplace: None (dwelling previously belonged to Muggles)

Reason for Denial: Name is already in use by house previously known as "Number 71 Crozer Street, London"

Reason for Appeal: House using the name is no longer occupied

Result of Investigation: Number 71 Crozer Street has been abandoned for several months. The name "The Marauders' Den" is hereby granted to applicants Patrick and Carrie Black, of Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon.

The woman stared at the form, and very slowly, a smile began to spread across her wide face. Carefully, she slipped from the office, sliding the precious piece of parchment beneath her knitted pink cardigan.

I do believe that it would be my duty to bring this to my master's attention, and explain what I know, and what I suspect.

This could be exactly what he needs to return to power.

Credit for the single-handed discovery of the most notorious criminal in England.