A/N: An early chapter, hurray! Maybe because it's a bit short? All errors are mine, unavoidable since I'm on a roll.
Disclaimer: Not mine, I know, don't remind me.
*****
Chapter Five
Wednesday morning at breakfast there was quite a commotion in the Great Hall. The owl post had arrived, and though usually this was not something to fuss about, this morning it was: the latest issue of the Úlhéðnar comic book series had arrived and with it, for some, the much anticipated volume of the comic's first year complete with an extra unpublished issue, unused drawings, character biographies and a biography of the elusive author Romulus Kveld-Ulf. I was not one of those getting a copy; I didn't read comic books, but many others-including my brother-did, so that as Rigel and I sat quietly watching them they drowned out all other sounds save for that of their excited chatter.
The Úlhéðnar comic book series was nothing to sneeze at though. In the three years since it was first published it had grown to become the most successful and popular comic book series in recent times, or at least so said the Daily Prophet in a pre-Christmas profile. The story of the creation of the werewolf-hence the name, for "úlfhéðnar" or "ulfhednar" is apparently Old Norse for "men clad in wolf skins"-the plot claims that they were created in Scandinavia when a vengeful, and evil, wizard turned an entire village into wolves after the men, Viking warriors, invaded and plundered his village. However, being a merciful man he allowed that they would become human again at the full moon and then created a series of runic riddles that would lead to a permanent cure and scattered them, as per usual, over much of their known world. There are twelve riddles in all, so twelve ingredients therefore leading to twelve adventures that each take a year, in our time at least, to solve. Given that there are werewolves today, I guessed that the "merciful" wizard had apparently double-crossed them again and the appeal is in trying to find out how. Also, in a clever bit of marketing-though it really sounds like a lot of work-each new issue is released on the day of the full moon, twelve or thirteen times a year.
When Dad had ordered the series for Milo it had come with an extra page that was the key to the runes and a silver-tipped quill. This was because someone had figured that it would be more enticing if the readers were encouraged to try to solve the riddles themselves before the answer arrived, conveniently, in the final or penultimate issues for the year. Someone else had then figured that the readers would also love to have various items stamped, printed and embroidered with the Úlhéðnar name and symbol-a wolf looking down into a pool of water at the reflection of a man-and just earlier this year had gained permission to merchandise. Then another still had hit on the brilliant idea of translating the issues into other languages and shipping them off to the Continent, Asia, the United States and South America. They were still in talks on that last one, but the Daily Prophet predicted that by the end of next year the author would be a very wealthy wizard… if only they could find out who it was.
That was where the controversy began. Uncle Dean told no one who Romulus Kveld-Ulf was, not even Dad and even after he tried by reminding him that he was the Man-Who-Triumphed. Interviews were conducted through questionnaires submitted to Uncle Dean, autographed copies went out the same way and the only known image of him was the silhouette that was printed above the Úlhéðnar symbol at the back of each issue. Of course, given that amount of secrecy it was understandable that there would be rampant rumours and speculation.
Across the board they all agreed that he was a werewolf. Uncle Dean made no attempt to deny this and neither did the author. From then the speculation ran different courses. Some believed that he was also the writer of Hairy Snout, Human Heart, which Newt Scamander had identified in our Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them text as a werewolf's "heartrending" autobiography. Others disagreed on account of him probably being too old, and pointed out that the author sometimes showed no mercy to his characters. This got the critics involved with some protesting that the comic book's story blamed werewolves for their curse. Others denied that it blamed the werewolves but stated that it projected a false image of them as suffering souls and that this would encourage children to be less wary. Yet others still claimed that the werewolves in the books were actually Muggles and so did not deserve the bother, but they abhorred the apparent impression of wizards being responsible for the creation of werewolves.
At no point in any of this did Uncle Dean or the author actually get involved, they allowed the arguments to play out themselves while the controversy sold the books. It was one of the reasons why it had become so popular in such a short space of time anyway, well, that and the interactive and entertaining story. And from the day it was learned that various famous people and their children-like my little brother and Bulgarian star Seeker, Viktor Krum's twins, Stanislav and Svetlana-read it, it earned fans by the legions. I had to admit that even I wanted to know who the author was and more of the story after that; though he was only fifteen Stanislav had been once voted number one in a poll by Witch Weekly on the "Unabashedly Fanciable!"
Assuredly, almost every student and a few teachers were among those being delivered packages containing the gift-wrapped volume and issue. Some were obviously for others, but the majority were definitely for the recipient, as evidenced by the crazed manner in which they ripped away the paper and sat back in awe of the book. Those who were not getting any looked on with naked envy, undoubtedly, if given the chance they'd nick the lot. I saw one go to Camilla at the Slytherin table with a large card on the top and then was followed by three others with a flurry of cards from admirers. The first was probably from her father though, for she ignored all others save that one.
Connor got one too, just down from where I was seated with Rigel, (new rule, Malfoys don't respect inter-House rivalries, they are mere trifles) but did not tear away the paper. Instead he calmly removed it from the table and set it beside him on the bench, looked up at me staring down at him, and smiled. I smiled back, then blushed and dragged my attention back to Rigel.
There I encountered a frown though he spoke casually, "You know, there are rumours that he's actually the lucky bloke dating Camilla Longbottom?"
"What? Since when?" I asked, surprised.
"Didn't you know that? So they aren't true then," he said, more to himself than I.
"Wherever did you get the idea that he and I speak that often? We don't, I just run into him from time to time," I replied, trying my best to downplay the situation, though I didn't know why, and ignore the sudden seizure in my chest at his statement.
He looked at me surprised, "So where do you disappear to so often nowadays? Since Friday you've been harder to find than Mundungus Fletcher after a tea party."
Embarrassed, I looked away from him while my mind raced to come up with a suitable excuse. I very well couldn't tell him that I'd actually been avoiding him because I needed the time alone to search for a student named Nike Slytherin. After I left Connor that Saturday evening I'd spent every available moment scanning the map, mostly in vain, and had so far come to the conclusion that Nike was most likely a female student, in Slytherin House and was one of the Herbology teacher's pets. That narrowed the list to less than half of one hundred and twenty-something people.
Nor could I tell him that I'd also been using the time to sleep for I just could not during the night, despite Kimberly being in the dorm with me and the house elves I now occasionally spotted every day. Who could sleep easy after nearly being murdered, and especially knowing that their attacker escaped? Also, with my actual attackers gone home and the teachers who interviewed them out-not that they would have told me anything anyway-and the new Ministry guard that really did patrol the school grounds about, I couldn't do anything about it on my own. As far as I could see all avenues of investigation were closed and my only option was to follow my father's advice.
And then there was the issue of the map. I hated not being able to tell him about it. He was my best friend, we'd practically grown up together and even after he began spending time with Mrs Malfoy. We knew each other better than anyone else and preferred it that way. Not telling him about something this big, regardless of the consequences, was eating into my conscience the longer I kept the secret. As far as I knew he'd never kept anything from me, well, except for whatever happened between him and Connor, so why should I keep anything from him? But my father would not have told me to keep it to myself if he didn't have a good reason. He knew Rigel too and trusted him, Mrs Malfoy was the problem.
I said then, the first thing that came to mind. "You're crowding me. Your overprotective shenanigans are grating on my nerves."
He lifted an eyebrow. "`Overprotective she'-Magnolia, someone tried to kill you!"
"I know that," I said quickly. "It's just… I just want to forget about it. My Dad's Harry Potter, the Man-Who-Triumphed, somebody's bound to be after me because of that. It's a fact of my life and I have to deal with it, just be more careful now that I'm older and more available to the nutters."
Rigel lifted other the eyebrow now. "You want to `just forget about it'? What if something happens again? What if they try again?"
I didn't want to start an argument with him, I really didn't, but from the looks of him he wasn't going to let this slide. Unfortunately my next response did nothing to help the situation. "If they try again we'll deal with it then, I can't live my life afraid of attack."
His ears and neck were reddening; I could literally see him bristling. Apparently when it came to me Malfoy rules didn't apply, but he was calm when he spoke. "No one expects you to do that but you have to be realistic, there is someone out there trying to kill you. I'm just doing what you apparently refuse to do, being reasonable and cautious."
"So am I!" I hissed, trying to avoid attracting attention to our argument. "I just don't want to overdo it. They could catch whoever it is long before he could try again, they could have him in custody now!"
"They don't, if they had you would have known about it. Listen, they might say that Hogwarts is the safest place to be but your father was attacked in this school numerous times, his Headmaster was murdered here, do you really want to throw caution to the wind because they say you're safe?" he demanded, his voice rising.
I looked around, hoping no one had noticed us, and replied, "I haven't, but believe me when I say that I am taking precautions."
He apparently didn't care to be overhead, saying loudly, "What precautions?"
From behind him a familiar voice came over our heads, "Mr Weasley, Miss Potter, is something wrong?"
We turned, I with a deepening sense of dread, to find the OGB standing in the middle of the aisle beside our table. It was amazing how, despite all the Christmas cheer going round, none of it had affected him, leaving him as I supposed he liked to be, a dark shadow in the midst of all the bright merriment. As a matter of fact he was more like a repellent, his voluminous black robes and standoffish air deflecting any and all attempts to impose the season of light and joy upon him. He'd arrived and we hadn't noticed though, and none of my Housemates had deemed it fit to warn us either. Well, there went their Christmas gifts. But then, I was also never happier to have him interrupt.
I hastened to reply, "No sir, nothing's wrong."
Understandably he was sceptical, but he did not mention it when he spoke next. "Very well then, Miss Potter I would like to speak to you."
"Now sir?" I asked, dejected.
He did not reply but immediately began to walk away from the table. With one last despairing look at Rigel, which was greeted by his closed one, I got up and followed the OGB as he led the way out of the Great Hall.
I did not fail to notice though, Connor's eyes following me all the way out.
For a time we walked in silence. I had no idea what he wanted to talk about or was really interested and he seemed intent on being as far away from prying eyes and ears as possible before he began. But once we had cleared the Hall and were on a path that seemed to lead down to the dungeons, he asked, "What is your younger brother's name?"
"What?" I asked, stunned. When he did not repeat or clarify though, I replied, "Milo, Milo Harry Potter."
"And how old is he?" he asked, making no attempt to explain why he was asking.
"Ten, he'll be eleven in October, on Hallowe'en," I replied.
He fell silent again for a while. We'd gotten to the top of the stairs that would lead down to the basement and dungeons and here he stopped and turned to look at me. I said nothing, intent on supplying no more information than necessary. What he'd asked me he most certainly already knew or could have found out from an old issue of the Daily Prophet. Of course, he'd also given no reasons; I had no idea what he could possibly want with Milo.
Finally he asked, "Your father has a broom, has your little brother ever tried to fly it? I know children of magical households sometimes take advantage of their parents' possessions; the Ministry does not bother as long as the children don't do it in front of Muggles or away from their parents. Has your little brother?"
I was now completely floored. What on earth did he want? But I answered still, "No, we're not allowed. The Firebolt is dangerous."
"How about his wand?" he asked, barely waiting for me to finish my response.
"No, he tried once but nothing happened," I replied.
"Nothing happened? What about accidents, has he ever had an accident where something unusual happened?" he asked, and again barely waiting for me to finish.
"You mean like accidental magic? No, I don't remember anything like-wait, where are you going with this? What are you trying to say? Do you think my brother's a Squib?" I demanded.
He did not respond at once, but then said with a slight sneer, "No, I was merely making enquiries at the behest of another. No one who is going to or would hurt you, you are assured."
I looked up at him and dared to scoff. "You were a Death Eater; Dad says not to trust you no matter what you did for the war."
In that moment he looked so angry I could have sworn that he would have hexed me, but instead he said, "Detention! It might be the holidays but I will not allow cheek, and don't expect your `uncle' to get you out of it this time. You are dismissed, Miss Potter."
He stalked off then towards the dungeons and I was left staring at his greasy hair and back before he vanished completely into the darkness. Then with a groan on realising that I'd managed to get myself back into detention after Uncle Lupin had so graciously got me out of it, and this time with a good reason, I turned and went back to the Great Hall. Then I groaned again, this time internally, when I remembered that when I'd left Rigel and I had been having an argument.
I took my time then to get back to the table. No need to rush back into an argument with him, for though he didn't argue with anyone often he had the raging Weasley temper and that was something to be feared, friend or foe. I soon discovered that I would have no excuses though, for Connor had left, package and all, and so had many others including Camilla. I half-dragged my way back then and once seated with him, said at once, "I'm sorry, but you have to understand, I really don't need or want to think about what happened. It was horrible thing that still scares me so please, can we not talk about it."
He said nothing for a time, considering it (I hoped) and then, with a smile, "What do you want to think about then?"
Relieved, I said the first thing that came to me. "Gifts, I mean, what did your grandmother get for me anyway?"
He grinned, "What did you get for me?"
I sat up away from him and folded my arms. "I don't think so. You don't find that out until Christmas."
"Well then, so do you," he replied simply and then pushed a plate with a large ham sandwich closer to me. "Your breakfast is getting cold."
*****
Connor had vanished. This was the conclusion I quickly came to when, sitting alone in my dorm with the map, I couldn't find his dot anywhere. I couldn't find Nike Slytherin either, but I absolutely couldn't find Connor and that worried me.
In fact I hadn't seen him around since breakfast, and when Rigel saw me looking about while we wandered the school after, he said that he was probably in the library. That was the first place I searched on the map though and came up with nothing. He wasn't in the Common Room either, the boys' dorms, the Great Hall or outside. I even dared to check the bathrooms but came up with nothing. He wasn't in the dungeons or any of the classrooms, the Headmistress' or any of the teachers' offices and he wasn't in the Owlery. So where'd he go? I knew that there were probably many hiding places in this old castle but this map seemed to show every available space so that I was pretty sure he wasn't anywhere in them. And if he wasn't in any of them that meant that he was either in the forest, the lake or out of school altogether, the places where the map didn't go.
I eliminated the lake as a location immediately. Unless the Slytherins had decided to do to him what they said they would have done to me (I shivered at the thought) he had no good reason for being in the freezing lake. The forest was also out because though his father was a werewolf, this was the full moon and not everyone would be on Wolfsbane. Not to mention that it was snowing heavily again and there were Aurors patrolling, any student caught outside was guaranteed detention, as well as an undoubtedly embarrassing Veritaserum-induced interrogation. That left out of school altogether and I wondered.
I unfolded the map completely and looked to the fringes where Hogsmeade village was just visible. Almost automatically I was greeted with a series of passages that led out of the castle. Through trap doors, secret rooms and tunnels they all led to the village, which was apparently the reason they'd been noted on the map in the first place. Two immediately caught my eye though, one, which led into Honeydukes Sweet Shop and the other that came up into the Shrieking Shack.
I doubted he'd gone into Honeydukes, the shop was closed and if he'd gone through there he would have no way of getting back. The shack wasn't haunted; this I knew from my father and Uncle Lupin, but that was an impractical option considering that he'd have to go in under the Whomping Willow. That left the other passages which meant for me that this was going to be a long night.
I hopped off my bed and slipped on my shoes and then took up the cloak. Now that was a useful invention, perfect for students not wanting to get House points deducted as well as detention for the rest of the vacation. But as I headed to the door it opened before me and Kimberly slipped in bearing a copy of the comic book, Witch Weekly and a broad grin.
Not noticing that I'd been on my way out, she began brightly, "Look! They've interviewed Stanislav and his sister again, and they even have a picture of them and their father! He's got a kind of Mohawk haircut now, all long in the back and wild up front; I wish the boys in school would wear their hair like that…. And his eyes, oh my goodness! You've got to hear what he says about girlfriends and your Mum imagine that, he was talking about her! Why did she ever let his father get away? He could have been your brother!"
In the face of that torrent I knew there was no way I was leaving now. I carefully folded the map into cloak and threw myself down unto her bed to read with her while covering both with my body. The best place to hide things sometimes was in plain sight and she'd never noticed either for the four days I'd so far had them. I'd just have to leave a little later to find Connor then.
I didn't remember falling asleep but suddenly I was blinking away my dreams and sitting up in bed still dressed in the clothes I wore the night before and with much of my lower body missing. I quickly dragged the cloak up into my arms, looked around for the map, found it on the floor near the bed and secured both in my trunk between my clothes. Thankfully Kimberly was still asleep; I could only hope that she hadn't noticed the cloak in the night though for there would be no end to her pleas to use it.
Carelessness was dangerous now, and yet there I was.
My sudden movements so shortly after waking up though left me temporarily winded and caused various joints to ache so that I was forced to sit down again. That allowed me to remember why I'd had the cloak and map out in the first place and I was quickly up once more and back in the trunk looking for the map. Not bothering to go back to the bed I knelt right there and opened it, here discovering that I'd also forgotten to wipe it clean, (very, very careless, Magnolia) and began searching for Connor.
I found him almost immediately… sort of. For some reason his dot was almost covered by another that read, strangely, "Remus Lupin". That could mean one of two things and neither good, either he was carrying his father, which was impossible given that he was an ordinary fourteen year old boy, or… his father was carrying him.
I flew up off the ground so fast I nearly hit my head on one of the bed posts. But then I quickly shoved the map into my pocket, found and slipped on my shoes and raced out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door.
I barely noticed that Nike Slytherin was coming in behind them.
I didn't stop to acknowledge anyone who called out to me. I barely waited for the Fat Lady's portrait to be open before I was through the hole and racing down the halls to the stairs. I was then forced to spend an impatient few minutes waiting for the stairs to rearrange themselves, and a crowd of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor First Years to pass, heads down in their new comic books, not noticing or caring for others in their way, before I could get down to the main corridor that led to the entrance hall of the castle. And I got there just as Rigel emerged from the dungeons, no doubt on his way to get me for breakfast, and they came through the front doors.
Thankfully Connor was very much alive and unhurt, for he was the one walking, but it was the sight of Uncle Lupin that stopped me and very much everyone in the immediate vicinity cold.
He was cut up, savagely, as if some wild beast had attacked him and then tried to render him limb from limb. There was blood everywhere, I could barely tell the colour of his robes or his hair. And worst of all, though I wasn't sure that it could get worse, his eyes were closed. At that moment I was very sure that he was dead.
I looked up at Connor, holding his father in his arms with the help of a Weightlessness Charm, and found that he had been crying, for his eyes were swollen and bloodshot. He was warmly dressed and there was still a lot of snow in his hair, apparently there was a blizzard approaching now, but it wasn't the cold that had made him so pale. In fact he looked anxious, half-wild and afraid and it showed in his voice when he half-yelled, voice breaking into a loud croak, "We have to get him to the Infirmary; he'll bleed to death if we don't!"
This was apparently the signal for pandemonium for as soon as he said that the panicked, horrified screaming began and shouts for Madam Pomfrey. No one offered aid though, though the full moon had passed now they all knew he was a werewolf and were absolutely terrified. Quite a few were already looking at Connor warily, wondering if somewhere under his father's blood he'd been marked. Mercifully the OGB quickly appeared out of nowhere, conjured a stretcher and then had to forcibly get Connor to lay him down on it. Madam Pomfrey arrived shortly after, for she'd luckily been attending to an incident nearby, and led the way to the Infirmary. We nearly all followed her.
Somehow through the confused and excited throng pushing up the stairs then, Rigel found me and said, "Come on, I know another way."
I went after him at once, but, remembering, looked back at the front doors to find that it was swamped with students who had been outside trying to get in. I wasn't going to find Nike Slytherin today then, but there were more important matters at hand.
There was no denying it; I wouldn't believe it no matter what they said. My attacker had come again.
A/N2: Sorry, had to be done.
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