Amicus Draconis: 1st Cycle - Cycle of the Badger

Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Part 2: Encounter at Hogwarts

"I wonder, I wonder, do you know what I wonder?"

"No idea."

"If I can get the new slim fast broom because it doesn't make my legs look fat!"

"I want a new wand to match my complexion!"

"I want sweets that make you lose weight!"

"I want Muggles which I can flush down the toilet!"

"I want lots of Bludgers I can throw at Nosia Babble when she doesn't do as I say!"

"And an owl to match my eye colour would be nice as well!"

"Cause I'm a Malfoy girl, in a Malfoy Wo-hur-hur-ld."

"I'm made of plastic, it's so fantastic!"

"I'm a spoiled blonde brat; I'll run to Mum and Dad."

"Do what I wa-hant, or I'll throw tantrums!"

"Hey, Fred, you dumb prat!"

"What do you want, annoying know-it-all! Stop hurting my feelings!"

"No, you stop hurting my feelings, you insensitive klutz!"

"So if you wanted to go to the Christmas ball, which you can't, of course, who'd you rather take? The blonde brat or Moaning Myrtle?"

"Can't I just take the Whomping Willow? Pretty, pretty please?"

"No, I was gonna take the Whomping Willow. You get the giant squid!"

"Gee, thanks a lot, bro!"

Amicus Draconis - 1. Zyklus: Zyklus des Dachses - Teil 2: Begegnung in Hogwarts

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Amicus Draconis

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First Cycle: Cycle of the Badger

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Episode 2: Encounter at Hogwarts - Part B

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Harry dove to the floor, reaching out as he fell. "Invisibi..." was the only sound that made it out of his mouth, but luckily, Ron had a fast reaction with things like that. Almost at once, the Cloak came soaring up the hole, spreading itself over him.

"Boo hoo hoo," Peeves sang. "Shoe hoo hoo! Rukkidigoo, there's blood in the shoe!"

Something cold touched Harry's leg, but he didn't dare to move. Peeves' voice was really close to his ear now. "Boo hoo hoo, what's with the shoe?"

His shoe. Could Peeves see one of his trainers? What if he hadn't completely covered his feet? He hadn't had much time... Well, it was too late to act now. If the shoe were to disappear right in front of Peeves' eyes, it was bound to arouse the poltergeist's suspicion, and he might raise the alarm.

He could only hope Peeves wouldn't get any stupid ideas....

Again Harry felt the strange cold, an unpleasant tingling shiver in his leg. What was Peeves doing? Was he floating through him right now? Could he feel that there was someone lying on the floor? Someone alive....

Oh, even if the poltergeist couldn't feel him, he was bound to hear his heartbeat. It thumped incredibly loudly in Harry's ears.

He could barely stop himself from screaming in surprise and pain when he suddenly felt a strong pull at his leg. The poltergeist was trying to move his shoe. He had never understood how ghosts could flow through solid objects on the one hand, and touch them on the other. This could get real ugly now. He hoped that Peeves hadn't figured out that there was a foot inside the shoe on the floor yet.

Harry pressed his leg closer to the floor, trying not to make any sounds. He didn't even dare to breathe. Tiny droplets of sweat were running down his forehead into his brows.

"Sweat!" Peeves gave an excited squeal, finally letting go of Harry's trainer. "Smells like sweat. Smelly, smelly sweat!"

He giggled madly, zooming up into the air. "Oh, you poor dears!" he croaked, his voice full of malice. "Poor dears, they will come for you! They will come and get you! Can't run! Can't hide! They will come for you tonight! Wheeeee!"

His squealing and sniggering faded away into the darkness. A hasty glance on the Map told Harry that he had dropped down a couple of floors and was now roaming about the Entrance Hall.

"Blimey, that was close!" Harry gave a sigh of relief. He took a couple of seconds to catch his breath, while Ron called softly from the corridor: "You all right, mate? What's going on?"

"I'm fine. Peeves found my shoe, but he's gone now."

"Yes, I noticed. Good thing he was busy with your shoe. Imagine he'd found the hole in the floor instead!"

Well, Ron could talk easily; he hadn't been the one getting pulled at. Harry sat up, stretching his aching legs. "Anyway, now we know that the Muggles really are in here. I think it was them he was talking about."

He bent over the trapdoor. "OK, let's see ... Our arms are too short for me to pull you up. Maybe we should try another spell? Or we could go back and get a broom instead."

"Spell's too risky." Ron shook his head. "This is Hogwarts after all, remember? And getting a broom would take too much time. It's four o'clock already, and I suppose in about two hours people start waking up. In my opinion we should have gone earlier, but everybody said it was too risky. And Hermione...."

"What about Hermione?"

"Nothing." Ron frowned. "I'll tell you what; I'd better stay here and help the Muggles get down the trapdoor. You'll be quicker on your own. Just don't forget to close the trapdoor before you leave, or someone might notice me down here."

"All right." Harry wasn't too happy with the idea, but he couldn't think of any alternatives right now. He closed the trapdoor and made sure that he was completely covered by the Cloak before he snuck away.

Finding the Muggles' prison didn't prove too difficult; he could see their names on the Map. They weren't spelled properly, a cluster of letters changing around, but this was probably due to the fact that Muggles did not have the same magical aura as wizards did, which confused the Map. However, such a large number of people were bound to be noticed even by a magical artefact not created for Muggles.

There were no guards at the room, which didn't come as a surprise. The Muggles weren't important prisoners after all, and no one was likely to be worried about rescue missions. Who would bother with Muggles anyway? Even the resistance had better things to do.

Now the important question was how could he open that door. Another Alohomora was risky, but it seemed he had no choice. Hopefully, the door wasn't protected by an alarm system.

He wished he still he had Sirius' knife as he edged closer, checking the Map again and finally approaching the door. There was a small window with bars in it, but the room behind was too dark to make out anything.

The only thing he noticed as he peered through the window was the smell. It seemed the prisoners were kept under pretty bad conditions in there. They probably didn't have any way to clean themselves or use the bathroom.

He could feel his temper rising as he desperately forced himself to keep a clear head. Voldemort and his followers had such a simple view of the world, such clear categories about who deserved to live and who didn't. The method behind the madness made it all the more cruel. This was not about children learning curses; this was about children being desensitized at a young age, being taught to hurt and kill without mercy. Did Voldemort hate Muggles so much because he had been treated badly by them as a child? Or was it because the pure-blooded Slytherins had taunted him during his time in Hogwarts? How on earth could anybody become such a psychotic madman?

Once again Harry wondered how much the Death Eaters knew of their Dark Lord's past.

There was no reaction when he checked the door with his wand. It seemed as if there weren't any special protection spells on it, so a simple Alohomora should do the trick.

What would he find inside? Were the people injured? Would they panic when they saw him, believing him to be one of their captors? Believing he would hurt them?

He stayed hidden under the cloak as he snuck in. The light of his wand did not reach very far in, but he would be able to cast a quick glance around the room before he spoke to the people inside.

There seemed to be about twenty of them. Women, men and children of all ages were lying fast asleep on the stone floor. Their bruises and scratches and tattered clothes showed that the bastards who had captured them had taken anybody they could get their hands on and had done so none too gently. At least there didn't seem to be any severe injuries.

One man was awake, guarding the door. Harry wasn't surprised that the Muggles tried to remain vigilant; they must have known they were in great danger.

The man drew back inside the room as the door opened, his huge, fearful eyes staring out into the corridor. Worried that he might wake the others and start a panic, Harry quickly stepped behind him, placing a hand upon his mouth. "Don't scream. We're here to get you all out. Just stay calm, and you'll be home in no time at all."

The man was startled, but he didn't make a sound. Since he didn't panic or try to fight Harry off, Harry cautiously let go of him and slipped out of the cloak to reveal himself.

The others, too, had noticed there was something strange going on. Slowly, they got up, stumbling backwards into the farthest corners of the room. With their uncontrolled movements, their shaking bodies and their wide opened eyes, they reminded Harry of the creatures from the horror movies Dudley used to watch with his friends. He felt a strange fear, but managed to shake it off. They were the ones who were afraid. They were the ones that had been hurt.

"Listen to me," Harry tried again, this time directing his attention to the whole group. "You have nothing to fear. My friends and I have come to your rescue. Please, believe me. We're here to take you home."

He took a deep breath, but before he could utter another word, he felt a cold hand pressing against his throat, and the tip of a wand poking his back.

"Don't even try, Potter," said a voice he had not heard for a while, except in his nightmares. "They don't understand a word you're saying."

* * *

In the office that had once belonged to Dumbledore, Headmaster Snape scowled at his prisoners. The Marauder's Map, the Invisibility Cloak and Harry's and Ron's wands all lay before him on the desk, while the two boys sat in front of it, tightly bound to their chairs.

The hateful sparks gleaming in Harry's eyes only seemed to amuse Snape. His lip curled slightly as he held his former student's glare.

Ron couldn't remember ever having seen Harry so full of hatred. True, his own recollections of the Potions master were anything but pleasant, but Harry gave the impression of holding Snape personally responsible for every crime Voldemort and his followers had ever committed.

"You haven't changed one bit, Potter," Snape spat coldly. "The same arrogant fool as ever. Dumbledore and the entire Order put their lives at risk to protect you, but no - the Great Harry Potter has to act the hero and jeopardize everything we worked for."

He banged his fist on the table, causing the wands to roll about. "And why's that? Because the Great Harry Potter rejoices in the delusion that he can make the world a better place by saving a few Muggles!"

"Don't you dare speak Dumbledore's name, you bloody traitor!" Harry snarled between clenched teeth. "He trusted you. He trusted you, even though you were a Death Eater. And you betrayed him and everything he stands for."

"Is that so?" Snape raised an eyebrow, giving Harry a scornful look. "Do not speak of things you cannot understand, Potter. You are completely unaware of the havoc you and your ill-fated choices wreaked upon our world. Without your meddlesome interferences, none of this would ever--"

"We understand what it's like out there," Ron hastily interrupted the Potions master. "Muggles are being tortured, terror's spread everywhere, and anyone speaking out against Voldemort is murdered before they even get to finish the sentence."

"Not murdered, Ron." Harry's voice sounded bitter and tired. "They lose their souls to the Dementors. Isn't that right, Headmaster Snape?"

"It seems that for once, you've done your homework." Snape's black eyes were inscrutable, yet there was a slight change in the tone of his voice. "I don't know how you came by this information, but for once, listen to reason and not to your raging hormones. You cannot change the world. You cannot set things right again. You and your little friends and all of your pathetic rescue missions won't change a thing about the Dark Lord's reign of terror."

He slowly rose from his armchair. "So, stay out of this, children. Stay in your hiding place, like Headmaster Dumbledore has ordered you to, and wait until all of this is over. Maybe there is a way to defeat the Dark Lord, but you certainly aren't the ones to find it. Leave that to the people who see the big picture."

"Is this a trick?" Ron's eyes narrowed in apprehension. "You pretend to be on our side to get information from us?"

Snape chuckled. "If it was information I wanted, Weasley, I would have plenty of other options at my disposal, believe me. You know nothing of importance to me."

"Where is Dumbledore?" Harry wanted to know. "And what about Ron's parents? Are they still alive?"

"Dumbledore is a prisoner of the Dark Lord," Snape replied, "but I do not have information on his whereabouts or his condition. Too many things went wrong when the Dark Lord took over Hogwarts. He does not trust me with important knowledge at the moment. He thinks me a fool, not a traitor, but I am under close surveillance and cannot risk exposing myself. However, the last time I heard from Weasley's parents, they were still at liberty."

"I don't believe you!" Ron had started shouting now. "I don't believe a word you're saying! It's all a trick!"

"I don't care what you believe, Weasley." Snape gave his wand a casual wave, and the rope that bound the two boys to their chairs broke and fell to the floor. "I don't care in the least."

His sleeve swished over the desk, shoving the wands, the Cloak and the Map to the floor. "Take your stuff, take your beloved Muggles and get out of here. And then stay at your hiding place until all of this is over. Dumbledore should not have made it possible for you to leave it in the first place."

"Our hideout!" Ron scrambled to retrieve his wand. "That's why you're doing this, right? You're letting us go so you can have us followed and find our hideout. Then you can capture us all at once."

"You are raving, Weasley. Your hideout is inside a magical room below the Hogwarts Lake. I am one of the three wizards who created it. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and I wanted to construct a safe house to make sure the students of Hogwarts would not fall into the Dark Lord's hands. We certainly believed we would win the war and you would only need to spend a few weeks there. However, considering our current situation, you will need to exercise some patience, difficult as this may be."

He knew....

This was not an act....

Ron felt a shiver going down his spine. Snape knew about the hideout. Professor Snape, Potions master and Death Eater, was not a turncoat after all; he had remained loyal to Dumbledore. He was still a member of the Order of the Phoenix. They had a spy within the ranks of the enemy.

He drew in a sharp breath and thought how to argue his case. This was their chance to convince a member of the Order to work with them. Young they might be, but this hadn't prevented them from taking an active part in the resistance. They could do so much more. They could make a difference....

He turned to Harry for support. Surely his best friend was considering the very same thought right now.

Harry had grabbed onto the desk for support, his entire body trembling as if he had just received a Shaking Hex. "You knew," he stammered. "You knew all along about our hideout ... Oh, my God, how could you not save them? How could you....

"YOU EVIL BASTARD!" Harry screamed, reaching for his wand. "IT'S YOUR FAULT WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SLYTHERINS! ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! YOU...."

"Harry, cut the rubbish!" Ron grabbed his friend's arm, trying to wrestle the wand from him. Angry orange sparks flickered, and the hex, which was aimed at Snape, whizzed past the Potions master into a shelf next to the desk. "Harry, chill out, OK? Just calm down for a minute."

"CALM DOWN?" Harry shouted, staring at Ron disbelievingly. "I'LL KILL THE SLIMY GIT, EVEN IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!"

He shoved Ron aside, aiming his wand at Snape. For a while he stood motionless, staring at his former teacher, his eyes gleaming and his features twisted with hatred. Snape locked eyes with him, but he didn't show any fear, nor did he make any attempt to reach his wand or move out of the way.

Finally, Harry lowered his wand. "Why?" he asked in an empty voice. "How could you?"

"I know you don't understand, Potter," Snape replied softly. "You simply can't, and that is exactly the reason why you must keep out of this war. With your methods it cannot be won. Your friend Weasley is a decent chess player; he might possibly understand about hard choices. Sometimes one must sacrifice a less important figure to protect a crucial one. That is a lesson you have yet to learn."

"No, that I will never learn," Harry whispered. "Not ever."

* * *

It had taken them some effort to calm the Muggles so they could get them out through the tunnel and onto their brooms. Snape had been right; they really hadn't been able to understand Harry's words because a spell had kept them from using and understanding language so they could not plot their escape. By the time dawn crept up over the horizon, the last ones were safely on their way to the next Muggle settlement.

Bright daylight spilled over the lake as the young witches and wizards returned to their hideout, entering the lake somewhere between the hills so that they wouldn't be spotted from the castle. Although they were awfully tired, they couldn't keep themselves from chattering about what had happened. Harry, however, left it to Ron to tell the others about their encounter with Snape and withdrew from his fellow students. Hermione, noticing at once that there was something wrong, kept him company at first. After a short while, she returned to Ron, who was now sitting on one of the wooden platforms in the very middle of the pond, gazing into the waters.

"He wants to be on his own right now," Hermione said as she sat down next to Ron. "He seems really downcast; I think he's crying and doesn't want anybody to see."

"Well, I reckon if he's back to brooding mode, there's not much we can do about it." Ron sighed. "He'll come round when he feels like talking again."

"Ron, what happened?" The helplessness in her voice made him feel vulnerable too. "What did Snape do to upset Harry like that? Is this about the Slytherins? But Snape couldn't possibly have brought them into the hideout with us. Too many of them were on Voldemort's side. They would have betrayed the hideout, and we all would have been taken prisoner."

"Maybe." Ron's gaze followed a white koi who was lazily flipping her fins in the water. "Maybe not. Since Snape didn't take the risk, we'll never know. Maybe he was worried about exposing himself as a spy. Or maybe he thought it better to sacrifice the few for the sake of the many...."

"No, I don't think anyone's been sacrificed," Hermione assured him. "The Slytherins are in less danger than us, don't you think? Being pureblood and all...."

She didn't sound very convinced of her words, and Ron remembered what Snape had said about the chess figures. It seemed to fit.

"I think it's odd that Harry never talked to you about it," he finally said, turning towards her. "You're something like his soul mate, aren't you? He tells you pretty much anything, doesn't he?"

There was a tiny trace of jealousy in his voice. Or did she just imagine it?

"I'm his best friend, just like you are," she hurried to reply. "He'd rather talk about some things with you and about others with me. And sometimes I think neither one of us can really understand him."

She fell silent, unsure if she wanted to continue, but then decided she might as well. Going round in circles didn't help anything; they had to talk about things before they became too difficult.

"I know you're going to disagree with me," she began, "and I'm pretty certain we'll fight again if I say this." She drew in a deep breath and continued: "Ron, I know you're jealous about me and Harry."

"And how ... I mean, what gives you the idea?"

If she had looked at him now, she would have noticed him blush. But she was staring at the water, just as he was, as if they were avoiding each other's eyes on purpose.

"Well, it's pretty obvious, don't you think? Anytime I'm with Harry and you're not, you make a fuss about it. The others noticed it, too, obviously since they already started teasing you because of it...."

They both remained silent for a while, watching the koi in the water. Probably fish lived a far happier life than humans or at least a less complex one. Provided they were real fish, of course, and not fake ones like these. Like everything else around them, they were only a Transfiguration of the Magic Room.

Hermione had expected Ron to get angry with her, had expected him to shout and to deny he had any feelings for Harry. Maybe even to walk away and refuse to speak to her. But of all the things she'd expected him to do, sitting quietly next to her and hearing her out was not one of them.

"Last night you said I wouldn't understand, Ron, but you're wrong. I know how you feel, I really do. Back at school, when we were younger, everything was much more ... simple. It was just the three of us. Sticking together, having adventures, sharing secrets. Things are different now. Harry and I are responsible for all these people, and I won't deny that this responsibility along with our duties has created a certain bond between us. And as you surely know, there's more: experiences we made, secrets we shared...."

She broke off; he already knew what she was talking about, and she didn't feel much like going into details. "However, this doesn't mean that you're less important to Harry and that he would trust you any less. You're his best friend, and he needs you. Maybe more than he needs me. There's lots of things boys would rather share with other boys than with girls."

Impulsively, she put her arm around him. "Ron, I don't want you to feel left out, and I don't want you to think I would ever want to be the cause of a rift between you and Harry. That's why I suggested you should go into the castle with him. I wanted you two to work together. Maybe I was overcompensating, but I never had any intention of making you look stupid or hurting your feelings. Believe me, it's all a big misunderstanding."

'You bet it is,' Ron thought, his head still spinning from her complicated view on emotional matters. Why did girls have to make everything so difficult? "It's all right," he hurried to answer, smiling at her. "I did act like a prat and I'm sorry. Let's just forget about it, okay?"

"Did you think I was trying to patronize you? Was that the reason why you got so angry at me?"

"Yeah ... well, maybe ... but it's all right now," he assured her. "Really."

"And the plan was from both us, but the others didn't appreciate your work; they thought it was all my doing ,and I thought that was so unfair."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, it's all right. How often do I have to say it?"

"I don't want Harry and me to get all the credit all the time; after all, you work as hard and as much as we do."

"Hermione, it's OK!"

"All right, all right, there's no reason to take that tone with me. Just because you're too much a prat to understand that I'm trying to show consideration for your feelings...."

"I understand about feelings. I'm a very sensitive person!"

"Right you are," she mocked him, playfully nudging him with her elbow. As an answer he slapped his hand on the water, splashing some in her face.

Squealing and laughing, they chased each other back to the paper houses. Now it was time to rest a little, to get ready for the next adventure.

For the future would hold quite a few surprises for them in store, that much was certain.

Tsuzuku (...to be continued)

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Dark night, nothing to see,
Invisible hand in front of me.
Scared to death there's someone near,
Scared to move but you can't stay here.

You know me, evil eye!

You know me, prepare to die!

You know me, the snakebite kiss!

Devil's grip, the Iron Fist!

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extra Extra EXTRA!

"Welcome, welcome, viewers, listeners, readers. Welcome to Fred and George's radio show. Today we shall explore the mysteries of cliché hunting in the fanfic world. It is a noble sport among young witches and wizards such as yourselves."

"But first, we'll take a look at the letterbox. Alex Mattson thinks AD original? That's a huge compliment for such an old story to still be original. So good to hear that not everything has turned cliché during the last three years. Why, thank you Mr Mattson. *curtsey* And on we go to some nice notes from wolfawaken, who likes reading this fic, Sternschen, who already read this fic and wants to read it again in English - don't you go shouting out spoilers, young lady, and MaUrAuDeRmAn, who would enjoy reading this fic much more, if it didn't have weird things like trailers and movie stuff, and well - us, I suppose. Can I go sulk now?"

"Oh, shut up, you whiny whimp! And here we have a letter from Ebilein, the artist who draws such wonderful fanart for this fic. You! Go visit his livejournal right now and leave him a comment to his pictures."

"Don't yell at the audience, Fred. OK now, ready for game? On one line we've got: Private Maladict! Cheers for PM! And on the other line we got Sponge ... uh ... Snooty Bob. Big hand for Bob!"

"Aaaaand action! PM races through the trailer and into the first episode. Looking good there ... looking good and yes! - She's got one. Ophelia can't see Draco that vividly in the darkness; Yamato should have mentioned a Lumos spell there.

"No wait - that's not a cliché, that's more of a flint. Still, we award PM a bean for finding it. Here you go."

"And on she zooms and spots our littlest brother doing something stupid. Would that be Idiot!Ron? Well, poor Yama never knew that there's a cliché called Idiot!Ron. Note to Yamato: Read more bad fanfiction!

"Yep, he still thinks Harry's the one to do stupid stuff. Anyhow, take another bean."

"Oh, how come PM missed out on Sexy!Evil!Draco? Elf-like features, glittering grey eyes ... cliché if I ever saw one. All right, all right, back in 2001 it wasn't one yet, but it most certainly is now."

"PM strikes again, oh - and it's an Americanism this time. 'Ron for President.' How come Ellie didn't spot that one?"

"Well, probably because there's a 'Harry for President' sign in canon. Sorry, can't award you a bean for that one. But you get one for spotting the KKK reference, even though you think it's cheesy, and you get a bonus bean for mentioning Lord of the Flies. It's great book, although it doesn't compare too well to the situation of Harry and the others. There's no girls in LotF."

"So, PM's got a total of four beans. Can you beat that, Bob? Bob's going for influences rather than clichés. Good choice, mate. There should be lots of them to find, since Yama spends half his time reading and watching TV. Ooooh - bean for Tolkien. More bean for KKK. Bonus bean for Stephen King. Aaaand ... well no more bean, but you could still even up the score by reviewing another chapter."

"Oh my, aren't we pushy tonight? So, if you lot ever get tired of hunting for flints, clichés, or possible influences, you might try ships next. Or clues. That'd be like figuring out what will happen next, who's going to do what, and what's going on in this fic anyway. "

"Which brings us right to Episode Three. Go ahead, bro!"

"Episode Three is still a fairly light one ... hm ... romance, maybe? There's no rescue mission this time, so a certain brother of ours comes up with the idea of arranging a Quidditch game for New Hogwarts. Besides romance, there's some Gillyweed, some music and lots of jealousy. We get to meet Chieftain Murcus, and some more characters we haven't seen before. Also, this episode's main character is a Ravenclaw girl named Lisa."

"We'd give you lot a short trailer, but then you'd start complaining again about how weird this fic is."

"Oh, what does it take to make you stop sulking? I'll hex you if you don't shut up!"

"Like to see you try, Fred. Stay tuned for: "

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Amicus Draconis - 1^st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Episode 3: The Underwater Quidditch Game

Original Airdate: February 2002

Coming soon to a Fanfiction Archive near you

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Draco Dormiens nunquam titillandus