Well of Shadows
Discussions of Trust
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Eighteen
~ Discussions of Trust ~
Ginny, with barely a handful of seconds to spare, rushed into the Gryffindor Quidditch team's changing room. She skidded to an abrupt halt, almost toppling over as she did so, coming to a rest just
short of colliding with the five members of the team that were already present.
The two Beaters; Seamus Finnigan and Moira Mackay, who were sitting on a wooden bench along one wall watched her entrance with looks of supreme amusement. Gareth Harriet and Jefferson Hope, her fellow Chasers, were obviously relieved by her timely arrival. Harry, the team's Captain and Seeker, scarcely reacted beyond a slight warming of his bright green eyes. His demeanour always took on a serious aspect when Quidditch was involved, though he admittedly could not refrain from granting his girlfriend a little leeway.
"Ginny," he greeted her once she had managed to catch her breath. He looked expectantly over her shoulder and asked, "Where's Carmen?"
"She overslept a bit, Harry," Ginny offered, pausing as she remembered how difficult her friend had been to rouse that morning. Then, in the silence, the sound of feet pounding rapidly reached their ears, causing Ginny to smile with relief. She met Harry's eyes and could see the amusement colouring them, despite his stern visage. "Here she comes now."
Harry nodded as Carmen rushed into the change room, much as Ginny had only moments before only looking a trifle damp, and crashed into Ginny's back sending both girls toppling to the floor. With a muffled curse and a feeling of her cheeks blushing a warm pink, Ginny tried to extract herself from her friend's tangled limbs, looking up as she did so to see Harry standing over both of them.
"At least you're both eager," he noted drolly, offering a helping hand.
"Sorry," apologised Carmen meekly, stumbling to her feet as Harry lifted Ginny up. She repeated the excuse Ginny had give earlier, "I overslept."
Harry looked at Ginny with raised eyebrows. Carmen hardly ever overslept and had never been late for a single early morning Quidditch practice, so this admission was an unusual one. However, she was also a notoriously deep sleeper, to the point of being capable of missing a small war going on around her.
~How'd you manage to wake her up?~
I used the method Fred and George employ on Ron when he oversleeps, she replied, grinning as they joined the rest of the team by the benches.
Harry laughed. "You dumped a bucket of water on her."
Ginny nodded. "It certainly woke her up in a flash."
"Don't you mean, 'in a splash', mon?" asked Gareth cheekily.
The rest of the team groaned, some of them covering their eyes in despair. Gareth, the shaven-headed son of the Jamaican Ministry of Magic's ambassador, was famous amongst the Gryffindors for coming up with slews of bad puns. Carmen, who still had a faint blush in her cheeks, shook her head. "That was awful, Gar," she told him, dropping down next to Seamus and Moira.
Gareth smirked at her and pointed out. "Maybe. But better than having actually being woken up in a splash."
"People, if today's Vaudeville routine is finished, could we please get back to the matter at hand?" asked Harry, standing imperiously in front of his team.
"Right, Skipper," chorused Carmen and Gareth, immediately settling down.
Ginny took her customary seat between Jefferson Hope and Moira, watching with amusement as Harry began to pace. He moved back and forth for a minute, looking deep in thought, before drawing to a halt and facing them with a serious expression.
"Okay, men," he began.
"An' women," interrupted Moira, crossing her arms and glaring at him.
"And women," agreed Harry with a nod. "This is it."
Ginny immediately spoke up, mimicking his tone of voice perfectly. "The big one. The one we've all been waiting for." When Harry scowled at her she simply shrugged her shoulders and explained, "Fred and George told me all about Wood's speeches. The two of them even memorized all of them."
~Apparently so have you~ he retorted with a smile. He looked at the rest of the team, who were watching with broad grin. Nodding briskly he said, "All right, let's just go out and show anyone that cares to watch exactly how Quidditch is played."
***
Winter's hold on the highlands appeared to have finally been broken, and the arrival of spring seemed to be imminent. Only a faint breeze disturbed the air, rustling Dumbledore's long hair as he settled in his seat to watch the first Quidditch match of the new year. A soft cry overhead drew the headmaster's attention to the clear azure sky, where a pair of peregrines circled high above the stadium.
Though Dumbledore was not necessarily a superstitious man, not difficult considering he knew Professor Trelawney, he did momentarily find himself wondering if this was not perhaps a portent concerning the outcome of the game which would be starting shortly. Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw house, certainly seemed to think so.
"Ah, a good sign that," the diminutive wizard declared, following Dumbledore's gaze.
"Forgive me, Filius, if I rather hope not," Dumbledore replied with a smile. His longstanding loyalty to Gryffindor --which had been his house as a student many years ago-- often came to the fore during Quidditch.
They were interrupted by the arrival of Severus Snape, who appeared in the teachers' box with his customary swish of black robes. It was immediately obvious to everyone, not just Dumbledore, that Snape was gnashing his teeth for some reason. As the Potions Master sank into his seat alongside Dumbledore, the reason for his ire appeared in the forms of the Defence professors, Gregory and Hilary Proteus.
Snape clearly did not appreciate it when the husband and wife pair moved to the seats behind him, though being in the company of the headmaster prevented him from tearing the couple limb from limb. It was close though.
"Ready to fulfil your part of the bargain, Severus?" asked Gregory, dressed from head to toe in clothes of every possible shade of red.
"You should never bet when you know you're going to lose," added Hilary, dressed far more sedately, but looking far more animated than her flamboyant husband.
Dumbledore swore he could hear Snape's teeth grinding.
Gregory repeated, "Remember our deal, Severus. It was a binding magical contract."
"Yes, of course," agreed the Potions Master. Dumbledore thought it likely that he would have been able to roast marshmallows, a Muggle sweet the headmaster was rather fond of, under the burning gaze Snape was directing at the two Defence Professors. Visibly gathering himself, Snape turned his attention back to the game that was about to begin and, with a resigned air, raised one fist into the air and began to cheer in a toneless voice.
"Go Gryffindor. Go Potter. Yay."
***
"And first onto the field is the Ravenclaw team," announced the amplified voice of Blaise Zabini, the game commentator. "Led by Captain and Seeker, Cho Chang," she continued. "Ravenclaw is tipped as a possible winner of this year's Quidditch Cup, thanks in no small part to their devastating victories over Hufflepuff and Slytherin last term..."
Hermione listened to Blaise's commentary with only half an ear, focusing her attention on one particular redhead who was sitting by her side. Ever since he had finally awoke from his coma, Hermione had been keeping a close eye on Ron, some irrational part of her afraid he might disappear into thin air and leave her.
At the moment Ron was gazing around the Quidditch stadium with childish abandon, a pair of stylish sunglasses shading his eyes from the bright spring sun. He turned his head to where the Ravenclaw team was marching onto the field, reaching up to tap the single brass button that adorned the eyewear three times, thus activating the pair of Omnitacles' special functions.
"Fred and George are going to make a killing with these," he declared happily, clearly delighted by this gift which his brothers had presented him with earlier.
Harry had handed over several working Omnitacles and complete instructions on their assembly to his business partners at Christmas. Fred and George had been indescribably delighted, their enthusiasm for the new invention overshadowed only by Ron's blessed emergence from his coma and the fact that Blaise Zabini had turned them pink for three days.
Ron continued to enthuse on the sunglasses, "I can't believe Harry managed to think this up all by himself. It must have taken him ages to work it all out.
"According to Ginny," Hermione told him, "he spent most of the summer on them."
"Brilliant idea," agreed Dennis Creevey, who was sitting on Ron's other side and had overheard their discussion. He had purchased a pair of the new Omnitacles himself and was reading through the rather thick user's manual Hermione had insisted the twins include with every purchase.
His older brother Colin was next to Dennis, his trusty camera in one hand and a large box of popcorn in the other. Hermione wondered briefly where he had obtained the Muggle treat, when he leaned over Dennis and offered, "Popcorn anyone?"
"You don't have to ask me twice," Ron said eagerly, apparently drawn to the delicious aroma wafting out of the colourfully decorated box. He reached in to grab some of the little white puffs.
"Actually, Ron," Hermione observed wryly as her boyfriend stuffed the handful of popcorn in his mouth, "we very seldom have to ask you the first time."
Ron grinned at her while munching noisily, his blue eyes sparkling merrily over the frame of the sunglasses, which he had perched on the tip of his long nose. Elbowing her lightly in the ribs, Ron rubbed his leg against her in playful manner, before slipping an arm around her shoulders and gently pulling her to his side.
Hermione cuddled close to him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder. "Mmm, this is nice," she murmured, "I think I could stay like this with you forever."
"I like that idea," agreed Ron.
She wiggled in his embrace, enjoying the feeling of closeness it provided. Still, she could not suppress a small shudder from running through her. So much had changed, particularly for Hermione, during the time Ron had been sleeping. It worried her sometimes, more often than she would likely admit, but she was unsure how to address the issue with her boyfriend.
Ron was not, by nature, a calm person and Hermione did not think herself capable of handling one of his legendary tirades. Not after having been on such an emotional rollercoaster ride for the past five months. It he started yelling at her for whatever reason...
"What's wrong?" Ron asked unexpectedly, pushing his Omnitacles up so that they were perched on top of his head as he looked at her with clear concern.
Startled, both by the unexpected question and Ron's equally unexpected awareness of her subtle change in mood, Hermione glanced up at him. Swallowing nervously she said, "Nothing."
Ron frowned and shook his head. "I'm not buying it. I can feel it, something is bothering you. Now spill it."
"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione said, ducking her head with a mounting feeling of shame. "I shouldn't have tried to avoid talking about it for so long."
"Talk about what?" Ron asked, clearly puzzled.
Hermione closed her eyes and whispered, "I'm afraid."
***
Ron blinked with what felt like total consternation. He was not sure what he had been expecting Hermione to say, but this surprise admission was certainly not it.
"Afraid of what?" he asked. An uncomfortable feeling suddenly began to grow in the pit of his stomach, causing Ron to hesitate and ask uncertainly, "Is it me?
"No," Hermione whispered again, shaking her head. Watching closely Ron noticed, as she pulled away from him, that she was unconsciously stroking her injured right arm. He had a sudden suspicion as to what was causing this unease in his girlfriend.
"Hermione," he said tenderly, allowing her to withdraw more fully from him so that she did not feel crowded. He very much wanted to hold her in his arms, but found himself thinking that, at the moment, she needed the space. "Nothing that's happened has changed you in any way. You're still the same person you've always been."
Again Hermione shook her head, slightly more firmly this time, and choked out, "No, I'm not. I can barely cast a spell with my right hand anymore and, even with Harry and Ginny's help, I'm not much better with my left."
Ron shook his head in amazement at how Hermione was downplaying her, frankly, amazing progress under Harry and Ginny's tuition. Admittedly she was not yet at the level she had once been, but she had made a remarkable amount of improvement.
"So this scares you?" he asked, trying to understand her reasoning.
"No..." Hermione admitted, dropping her chin to her chest and staring at the floor in despair. "I'm scared that... that you can't love me like this. Because I'm broken."
Ron's breath caught in his throat as he looked at his girlfriend in dismay. To his complete amazement, and he struggled against it, Ron could feel the prickle of tears stinging the back of his eyes.
He reached out to grab Hermione by her arm, making sure to grip her stronger left arm. With all the sincerity he could muster he told her, "'Mione, you're not 'broken', not in any way that counts."
Until this moment Ron had not truly understood how difficult Hermione was finding her current condition, but now hew felt the comprehension blossoming within him. He realized suddenly how very fragile his girlfriend must have been feeling, regardless of how much of a stiff upper lip she presented to the world at all times.
Seeing that Hermione was shaking her head and refusing to lift her eyes to meet his, Ron released her arm and reached up to cup her chin. Gently he lifted he head up so that he could look into her face, distressed at the sight of glistening tears on her cheeks.
Using his thumbs Ron lovingly rubbed away the damp streaks and tilted Hermione's head until her eyes met his. She looked at him uncertainly, as if unconvinced that Ron was being truthful. He smiled supportively at her, seeing the fear and uncertainty in her glistening eyes. Inspiration struck him then, as it often did when he found himself gazing at Hermione.
"I was in a coma for four months, 'Mione," he told her, trying to get his point across in a different manner. "It's been nearly a month since I woke up and I'm still not back to how I was. Even if I was physically fit, I'm still different here," he tapped at his temple. "I think and react differently from how I used to before I was hurt. Chances are, I'll be like this for the rest of our lives. I'm also different, also damaged, also 'broken' in a way... does that mean you'll stop loving me?"
Hermione looked at him with startled eyes. "I will never stop loving you, Ron," she told him in her best authoritative voice.
He smiled and caressed her cheek. "And I'll never stop loving you."
She was silent for a long time, considering his words as she looked at her hands which were resting on her lap. Finally she looked up at him, a pensive expression replacing the vulnerable one, and said, "You have changed. You never spoke to me, or Harry, like this before."
"No, I probably wouldn't have - at least not as calmly," he agreed readily. He slipped his hands from her face and picked up her hands, holding them up between them. "I've never been much for introspection, Hermione. I'm usually the one that jumps in without checking the water level, if Harry doesn't beat me to it. But being in a coma for so long... it forced me to examine my life; to try and understand why I do the things I do. It's been anything but easy getting used to the changes, but I think it's helped me become a better person--"
"Still as talkative as ever though," interrupted Hermione, rising out of her seat to engulf Ron in a fierce hug. She pulled him close to her and whispered in his ear, her soft voice thick with emotion, "Thank you, Ron."
Ron was blushing furiously by the time she released him, terribly aware that quite a few pairs of Gryffindor eyes were watching curiously. He glared at Hermione. "Not a problem, but when did you become such an advocate of public displays of affection?"
"Ever since I discovered it embarrasses you," Hermione responded with a grin.
Hermione was obviously trying not to laugh at the expression which crossed his face, despite Ron's best efforts to conceal it.
***
Ginny watched with alarm as Seamus superimposed himself between Harry and an onrushing Bludger, shielding their Captain and Seeker with his very body. Harry, seemingly oblivious to the danger, continued his dive for the Golden Snitch. Only Ginny was aware that the Gryffindor Seeker was silently cursing at Seamus for being a "damn fool martyr".
Harry had no problem with either of the team's Beaters putting their bodies on the line for one of their team-mates, unless it was him that they were protecting. It was not that Harry did not appreciate the gesture. It was simply that he was, and always would be, more concerned about the safety and wellbeing of others than he was himself. This was especially true since, while he did not actively court trouble, it had the uncanny ability of find him regardless of the situation.
Then, in that moment, everything seemed to happen at once.
Harry swooped down on a collision course with the pitch, his robes whipping about in the wind of his acceleration. Both hands firmly grasped the handle of his Firebolt, keeping the sensitive broom steady and on course.
The jet black Bludger rammed into Seamus' side with a dull thump, knocking the young Irish wizard clear off his broom. He seemed to hang suspended in midair for a timeless moment before falling to the ground.
Across the field, where she had until then been busy assaulting one of the Ravenclaw Chasers, Moira turned on her broom just in time to see her boyfriend drop from his broom. Her eyes grew wide as she took off towards him, even though she would never reach him in time.
Cho Chang, having spotted the Snitch not long after Harry, pulled out of her own dive. There was no way her aging Comet Two Sixty could catch Harry's Firebolt, and she clearly had no desire to plough headfirst into the ground.
Dropping towards the pitch considerably faster than Seamus was, Harry released one hand from its position on the handle. His arm swung back in preparation to snap forward like a striking cobra when the Snitch was close enough.
Seamus, to whom it must have seemed as if the ground were rising up to meet him, twisted and turned as he fell. It looked about as graceful as an anvil dropped from the Astronomy Tower, and did nothing to slow his descent.
The Ravenclaw Chasers took advantage of the Gryffindor team's distraction. Padma Patil had just been handed the Quaffle from Ellie Sattler, the Chaser Moira had been harassing, and passed it to Tim Murphy, who slipped the red ball through a hoop.
Carmen, who had been watching Seamus plummet, bit off a curse when she realised that she had allowed the Ravenclaws to score a goal. This brought the points to sixty each, which meant that Gryffindor would have to beat Hufflepuff by a substantial margin to win the Cup this year.
Harry rolled out of his dive, so close that the grass on the pitch stained the scarlet of his robes, and reached out with his right hand. At the same time his righted himself from his low leaning position on the Firebolt, slowing the broom to a halt.
Not far from where Harry came to rest, the Snitch held high above his head in triumph, Seamus Finnigan crashed hard on the unforgiving surface of the pitch. Even from where she was hovering on her broom Ginny could hear a distinct snap.
Circling high above Madam Hooch raised her whistle to her lips and blew resoundingly, signalling the end of the match. On the opposite end of the field, in the commentator's box, Blaise Zabini was announcing that Harry had caught the Snitch and tallied up the final score.
It was end of what had been an exceptionally tough match.
Ginny, oddly enough, was the first to reach Seamus. Moira had almost collided with Jefferson as she barrelled to where Seamus landed and was forced to swerve and loop around. She was cursing loudly and yelling for Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Harry, Ginny and even Merlin --should he ever prove available-- to rush to Seamus' side and help save his life.
This last bit seemed a bit premature to Ginny, who immediately saw that Seamus' life would only become threatened when Moira realized that he was going to be just fine. She carefully deposited her broom nearby and knelt beside her team-mate, who was struggling to sit himself up.
~Is he okay, Gin?~ Harry asked as he jogged over to them.
Ginny nodded her head, He'll live. Though I don't know for how long once Moira gets hold of him.
"That did not go according to plan," Seamus grunted as Ginny placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and helped him into an upright position. He was holding his left arm close to his chest and had to visibly bite off a cry of pain when Ginny took him by the wrist and extended the broken limb out. He winced as she shifted the arm for a better look and gasped, "I think it's broken."
Moira is not going to be happy, was the first thought that struck Ginny as she saw a ragged and bloody tear with a sharp edge of white bone protruding. Thanks to having been joined to the Order she had a reasonable knowledge of healing minor injuries such as this, so Ginny quickly went to work.
*Fractured ulna from the look of it,* diagnosed Miko softly.
*From the look of it,* concurred Heracles dryly.
It was Osiris that noted, *I'd say he's torn something in his wrist as well, a sprain at the very least. He must have tried to catch himself with that arm as he hit the ground.
"Yeah, it's broken," Seamus muttered, mostly to himself, when he caught his first glimpse of the bleeding wound. The sight of the red and stark white seemed to make him queasy, for he began to sway uncertainly where he was sitting.
"This will probably hurt a little," Ginny warned him just as Harry and Moira reached them.
Seamus met her eyes, his own slightly glazed over in pain, "It already does."
Ginny gave him no warning and, with a practiced ease, snapped the bone back into place. The resounding click of it returning to its proper position seemed almost as loud as the initial break had. She looked up to see Seamus' face go white, as did Moira's, who was now kneeling on the swaying boy's other side.
"Omigod, Seamus," the third-year gasped, reaching out to grab hold of his unbroken arm's hand. She looked at the other, now blood-soaked, arm and asked, "Are yeh alri'?"
Seamus looked at her incredulously and said, "Fine. Didn't hurt a bit. Ow."
Moira let her steel-grey eyes bored a hole into Seamus' head with a look that could inspire nightmares in someone faint of heart. It was not so much the look itself that accomplished this, but rather the implied threat of what could happen later if Moira's legendary temper was not mollified.
The sandy-haired boy gulped around his pain, "I guess you're pretty angry with me, huh?"
"'Angry' isnae th' waird uil b'usin'," Moira warned, her brogue much thicker than normal. The tone of her voice made Ginny rise to her feet and move to join Harry. The two watched the young witch with bemusement as she proceeded to harangue Seamus in vivid soundly Gaelic.
I have a feeling Seamus is never going to save your life like that again, Ginny noted as she slipped an arm around Harry's waist.
Harry shook his head and draped an arm over her shoulders, ~I don't doubt it, though it was hardly my life he was saving when he pulled that stunt.~
*In either case,* commented a dry voice, *I certain that young Mister Finnigan will not have the slightest clue what hit him by the time that lass is through with him.*
***
Sirius watched silently as the Quidditch pitch slowly emptied of spectators and players, leaving him alone with his godson. The Gryffindors had departed the pitch after splitting almost equally, half moving to escort Seamus Finnigan to the hospital wing, and the other half heading back to their dormitories to celebrate their victory.
The last to leave had been Ginny, Hermione and Ron, who left in the company of Remus Lupin. Harry had remained, promising to join them after lunch. In the meanwhile he would be staying behind to speak with Sirius, who had asked Remus to convey the convict's desire to talk.
He and Remus had been busy in travelling from Paris, where they had just finished confirmed that Voldemort was gathering a force of vampires, to Dublin over the period of Christmas when Hogwarts had been attacked by... something. Sirius was still not very clear on what exactly had happened, but he did know one undisputed fact.
Harry had spoken, civilly at that, with Lucius Malfoy.
The first letter had been from Hermione, written in an unsteady and spidery scrawl that was a far cry from her once meticulous script. Still, considering her had been entirely unable to write with her left hand her progress was truly remarkable.
The next letter had been from Ginny, sounding rather more concerned for Harry's wellbeing than Sirius had come to expect from the normally composed young witch. She had gone more into detail about Harry's battle with the shadow creatures Draco Malfoy had sent against them than Harry's encounter with Lucius, but there had been a mention of it.
Dumbledore had also reported, via a note delivered by Fawkes, that Harry had apparently entered into some sort of deal with Malfoy (and by proxy Voldemort) though he did not go into any detail about what that deal entailed.
It had been, surprisingly enough, the last letter that spurred Sirius and his werewolf companion into making a brief stopover at Hogwarts before carrying on to Dublin. It had been a scathing and very insulting letter --insulting both Harry and Sirius, often in one sentence-- and had been written by none other than Severus Snape.
The fact that Snape felt a need to speak with Sirius about Harry was clearly an indication of the severity of the situation.
"Dammit, Harry!" Sirius all but roared as he changed back into his human form once Harry gave the all clear. He rounded on his godson with a furious expression. "What in Hell's bells d'you think you're doing, forming an alliance with Voldemort?! The thing that killed your parents!"
"Good to see you too, Sirius," greeted Harry sarcastically.
"This isn't time for jokes, Harry," Sirius snapped angrily.
"I wasn't aware I had made any," replied Harry with the strange calmness he had developed since being selected to join the Order of the Phoenix. A faint and displeased scowl marred his brow as he continued, "Nor have I formed an alliance with Voldemort. I will never do anything like that. Ever."
Sirius took a deep, calming breath --which had little effect-- and asked, "Then what the devil are you playing at? A truce?"
Harry shook his head firmly. "No, not a truce either." He had begun to pace to and fro in front of Sirius, hands clasped together and resting by the small of his back. "At best, a temporary ceasefire. At worst, a trap waiting to be sprung."
"Then why'd you accept?" Sirius asked completely baffled.
"I simply don't see that we have any alternative. It's a choice between the lesser of two evils," Harry explained patiently. He stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair. "Voldemort may be more dangerous in the long run, but Malfoy could kill us all long before then if he's not stopped."
"Draco's that dangerous?"
Harry grimaced unhappily. "Right now he makes Voldemort look like a squib."
Sirius blinked and, once the enormity of that statement sank in, swallowed. "That bad?"
"Probably worse," Harry sighed.
"I don't like it," asserted Sirius.
"No more than I or anyone else does," concurred Harry. He sighed again and almost nervously ran his hands through his hair and reluctantly admitted, "Still, there are one or two positive aspects about the situation."
Sirius arched a wry eyebrow. "I'm obviously very dense today, because I certainly can't see any."
Harry's response was simple and caught Sirius' attention fully. "Wormtail."
"What about him?" he asked, eyes narrowing in distaste and anger as his thoughts immediately drifted to his onetime friend.
"He's the condition I demanded before accepting Voldemort's proposal," Harry said blandly.
Sirius absorbed that for a moment. Then the true meaning of Harry's words hit him. Simply put, Sirius was rocked beyond words. He did not say anything because he could not bring his mind into focus as he just stared at Harry in disbelief. Finally he opened his mouth, a myriad questions suddenly filling his mind, but only managed to ask one - the first that occurred to him.
"And he agree?"
"I don't know that Pettigrew will agree," answered Harry, shrugging, "but if Voldemort really wants us to hold off our efforts against him..."
Sirius refused to allow the sliver of hope that had formed within his chest to grow, quickly walling it off and sealing it away. He regarded his godson for a moment and asked warily, "How do you know he'll keep his word?"
Harry smiled humourlessly and said with calm certainty. "He won't."
"Have I said how much I don't like this?"
"Yes," confirmed Harry, smiling properly now. The smile dimmed slighted and then he continued in a low, pleading voice, "I'm asking you to trust me on this, Sirius."
Sirius wanted to do anything but leave this matter to Harry's judgement. He wanted to shout and scream and yell at the young wizard, to tell him that he was still just a child and should not try and meddle in the affairs of adults. He wanted to deny that the boy he thought of as a son was actually more involved in matters of the war than anyone else, even Dumbledore in a way.
He sighed, nodded in reluctant acceptance before offering a warning. "All right, but don't turn your back on him, Harry. If you do, you just might find a knife lodged between your shoulders."
Harry's smile was once again a humourless one as he nodded. "That's the only thing about this mess that I am absolutely sure about."
***
Harry waited for Sirius to go into Hogwarts alone, as Padfoot of course, to join up with Remus and the others before slipping past the now empty stands on the far side of the Quidditch pitch. He stealthily crept along until he was almost at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where a pair of magical auras had caught his attention earlier.
"Well? What did they say when you spoke to them?"
He immediately recognised the voice, just as he had recognised the feel of her aura which was one of the strongest in the school. Harry cautiously peered around the tree he was hiding behind and confirmed his suspicions.
The two Defence Against the Dark Arts professors were standing in the shadows just within the borders of the forest. He had seen them when the match had begun, sitting in the staff box and apparently having a great deal of fun at Snape's expense. He could not, however, recall seeing them after the game had finished. Obviously they, or rather Gregory, had been busy meeting with someone within the forest.
Gregory, still dressing in bright red robes and clothes, shook his head ruefully before answering his wife, "Just that Mars is bright and the evening star moves swiftly."
Hilary quirked an eyebrow. "What the devil does that mean?"
"Damned if I know," confessed the wizard with a shrug. "You have a better chance of finding corners on a circle than you do of getting a straight answer out of that lot. In any case, I'm guessing they agreed."
"How'd you manage it?" she asked.
This time a broad smile split Gregory's face. "I told them they had to do it because they had already done it."
Hilary looked at him incredulously and asked, "And that actually worked?"
Harry decided that he had heard enough for the time being, especially as the pair of older magicians began to leave the secluded confines of the forest and walk back to the castle. He slipped silently into the shadows that had been hiding them earlier. He could not make any firm decision about the Proteus', since he had not managed to catch all of their conversation.
Still, what he had overheard provided more than a little food for thought. Until now he had been of the opinion that the husband and wife team were on the same side as he, Ginny and the others, if only being a trifle eccentric.
Now he wasn't so sure.
***
"So, how much of that did he overhear?" asked Hilary, watching out the corner of her eyes as Harry melted into the shadows.
Gregory smiled, not bothering to look where their spectator was stealthily making his way back to the castle, carefully avoiding them.
"Just, enough to make me suspicious."
TBC...