A/N: I don't know, I think this story is going much slower than I intended. I know where I'm going, mostly, so I'm not too worried, but I really feel I need to pick up the pace. Good, how's the next chapter for you? By the way, something else I forgot, though officially this is classified under books one to six spoilers, there are spoilers for book seven here, from the major to the minor. Read with caution. Again errors all mine, same situation, I suspect loads of cringing at the reread of this story. Loads.
Disclaimer: Sometimes I wish this was mine, but then, nah! JK Rowling and company own and will keep everything you can recognise. Anything you don't is mine.
*****
Chapter Three
It would be the understatement of the century to say that the last person I expected to see the next morning was the OGB, it would probably also be the understatement of the millennium. But sure enough when I answered the door there stood my Potions professor, for once not in his characteristic black robes as he was out in a town where Wizards lived amongst Muggles, but still dressed in black nevertheless, wearing a trench-coat over heavily starched shirt and pants. The daylight was unkind to him too; it enhanced his pallid complexion so that he looked like the walking dead, and sharpened his features so that his hooked nose, crooked, yellowing teeth and greasy black hair made him even uglier than usual. For nearly a full minute I stood in the doorway staring at him, and then he greeted me with a terse, "Miss Potter, I believe that it is well past nine in the morning, why do you look like you've just left your bed?"
I was snapped back to the present but could only manage, "P-professor Snape?"
He sighed. "Is your mother at home?"
I nodded.
Not attempting to disguise the impatience and irritation in his voice, he said, "May I come in then?"
"Oh, right," I replied and stepped back from the doorway. "Come in, I'll go get her." Then without waiting to shut the door behind him, I turned and raced off to the kitchen where Mum sat with Mackenzie making pancakes.
She greeted me happily. "Good morning, Lillie. I see you're back to your usual holiday pattern."
"Professor Snape's in the living room to see you," I said.
At once she began to remove the apron she was wearing, saying, "Come, watch these, don't let them burn." I took her place at the stove, she handed over the spatula and left. Moments later I heard her greeting the OGB, "Professor Snape, good morning, and how are you today?"
When Mackenzie did not slip off her seat and run after her, I asked, "Why is he here?"
"Fine, but your family has been making headlines I see, and Magnolia's been home only a matter of hours?"
"You know full well that Rita Skeeter is a right obnoxious cow who lives to stir up trouble."
"He's come to drop off Milo's potion. He brings it himself," she replied, forking a mouthful of pancakes into her mouth. "Dad doesn't like it but he has no choice."
"Nevertheless, it would do you all well if you deterred your children from following in their father's strut. Miss Skeeter can make your life very miserable, she has done it before."
I flipped a pancake a little too early and watched the mix splatter over the stove top. I hated having to do things without magic now, after months of school and extra lessons with the OGB and Camilla during the attacks to improve my defensive duelling skills it was strange to go back to doing things "the Muggle way." Rigel didn't have such a problem; Grandma Molly spoiled him at the Burrow almost as much as Grandmother Narcissa did. His breakfast would be waiting for him at the table.
Connor, though, with his father was ill now and his mother always at work would probably have to do it himself like me. That reassured me only slightly.
"Mr Dean Thomas? Mr Thomas, though an artist of some talent is no one of consequence to anyone, especially Ms Skeeter. He was fortunate to survive the war as he did, and to find this Romulus Kveld-Ulf, but you are right to treat her interest in him with suspicion. The true identity of a reclusive comic book author is nothing compared to the material to be gleaned from a child's suffering, and especially the Chosen One's child."
I took the pancake over to the platter Mum had been stacking them in and poured another. Mackenzie said, "Milo's cat spent the whole night guarding the door to his room and wouldn't let anyone come in."
I turned back to her. "What were you trying to do going into his room?"
She did not answer. I asked, "Were you trying to steal his cat?"
She still did not answer. I shook my head at her. "Mackenzie, Hugo is Milo's cat. You've had fish, rabbits, a turtle and a toad. You've had more pets than the rest of us, and even some of ours. It's his turn now."
Mum suddenly reappeared in the kitchen and said, "I'll take this over, why don't you go help Professor Snape deliver Milo his potion?"
When I looked at her surprised, and none too pleased, she said, "He specifically asked that you accompany him, I guess he wants to talk to you. Be nice."
I lamely protested, "But I'm still in my pyjamas."
"So? You answered the door in them, and I seriously doubt he cares. Just take him up to Milo. If he asks you to help him with anything, help, and then when he's finished you can see him out," she replied, flipping over a perfectly round pancake that made me want to scowl at the one I'd done. "And he's going to be back tomorrow, so I suggest you be on your best behaviour."
"But why does he bring it himself, couldn't he send an owl?" I asked, knowing full well that I was whinging but not caring.
Mum looked up at me. "It's not a good idea, and this way he gets to stretch his legs a bit out of the castle. He has to deliver to Remus too, you know. He doesn't like it, I'm sure you've noticed, but it's the only way for him to get out. Professor Snape did a lot for us at the risk of his own life during and after the war, and it would do you well to remember that."
"He nearly got me killed last winter!" I protested again.
"I know!" she very nearly snapped at me then, which startled both Mackenzie and I. And then, expression softening, she said, "I'm sorry, but please, be nice. He is an unpleasant man, but it does you no good to aggravate the situation. And besides, for all the horrible things he's had to do, and the mistakes he's made, he's been an immeasurable help, so please?"
"Dad doesn't care," I grumbled with the hint of a smile, a weak parting shot, I knew, as I began to walk away.
"Magnolia, go!" she said and flicked a pot cloth behind me so that I scurried from the kitchen.
The OGB was at the bottom of the stairs down the hall waiting for me, and as I appeared he said, "Unlike you I do have a number of important matters to attend to today, so if it is not too much trouble...."
I smiled sweetly. "This way, professor."
Milo's bedroom was the second door on the right as we got upstairs and slightly ajar. I knocked gently first, and then pushed it open to find my younger brother still fast asleep and tightly wound up in the bed-sheets. His messy brown hair appeared to peek out everywhere, and with his short pyjamas I saw, to my horror, that it had grown out everywhere, all along his legs, arms and back. I froze in the doorway staring at him in shock; the OGB pushed past me and said, "We've been through this before, Miss Potter. You are well aware of the fact that when it is near the full moon the werewolf changes."
"I did... I am, but... I never saw him like this before... when I came home for the Easter break it wasn't the full moon," I stammered.
He paused beside the head of Milo's bed and looked back at me. He made a rather incongruous sight. Milo's bedroom, painted olive green and plastered with Muggle football, magical Quidditch and various video game and comic book posters, including a large autographed one from Romulus Kveld-Ulf, (which Connor had done months earlier once the papers had printed Milo's request to be in the comic book) and then seemingly hundreds of family photographs, was too lively for him. The shelves stacked high with schoolbooks, novels, comics, old broken toys, sports equipment he never used and CDs seemed to mock him. The radio and television played softly to no one. The clothes, trainers, and random bits of candy wrapper that littered the floor, workstation by the window and bed outright offended him. And the smell, of sweat, dirty clothes and old paper-undoubtedly from the library books lost somewhere in the room that Milo constantly forgot to return on time-combined with that of the air rushing through the window and air fresheners in the hall, set his nose twitching every so often that it was a wonder he didn't rush out again at this slight lack of control. But he stood his ground, instead far more interested in a sheet of paper Milo had pinned to the wall above his bed.
I stepped away from the door, folded my arms and waited. He said, "Come, wake him. He must take this potion now and then promptly at seven this evening. He must not miss one dose, and no matter what he says or does he must take it. This is your responsibility; you can ask your mother for corroboration. Now, wake him."
I hesitated, and he continued, only barely lifting an eyebrow, "Your mother has to work, does she not? And in both your parents' absence, you are the eldest and therefore the one in charge... unless I'm mistaken?"
I shook my head and marched over to Milo's bed and shook him, gently. Unsurprisingly he did not stir, and the OGB noisily cleared his throat. Sighing, I gripped the covers around Milo's head, unwound them as best I could to expose his face to the daylight and shook him harder. This time he groaned and turned away from the window.
"He has to take this potion or his transformation will be much worse, wake him up," said the OGB.
I shook Milo once again, and this time he protested, "Le'e me own!"
I looked back up at the OGB a moment, then gave Milo another fierce shake, ripped the covers from around his little warm body and called, "Wake up, Milo! Wake up! You have to get up now, wake up Milo!"
Milo did not take kindly to this of course, and especially given his warning for my previous attempts. The moment the covers left his body he began to fight me, pushing back and yelling, "Geroff Lillie! Leave me alone! Go away; I don't have to wake up now! Geroff Lillie!"
It then quickly degenerated into a minor scrapping before at last the OGB said, "Mr Potter, it is time for your potion. Get. Up!"
Milo stopped fighting immediately and pushed himself up from the bed, looking up at the OGB in surprise. "Professor Snape?" he asked.
The OGB crouched beside him and produced, with an elaborate twist of his wrist, the small bottle of Wolfsbane Potion. "Drink this quickly."
Slightly bruised, and sweaty from the effort, I sat back on the bed and watched as Milo, hands suddenly trembling, took the bottle from him and twisted it open. The OGB stared back at him, waiting, and in a manner of surprising patience and gentleness that I had to wonder if this was how he and Connor had interacted when they had their lessons. Of course, Milo was usually one on whom brute force did nothing. And then Milo put the bottle to his lips and drank it down in one go, grimaced, gagged and thrust the bottle back to the OGB. He took it, stood at once, and straightening his coat, said, "Miss Potter, if you will see me out."
I looked at Milo, who was now glaring down at his bed-sheet as if stubbornly fighting tears, and the OGB barked, "Miss Potter!"
I stood at once and he led the way out and down the stairs to the door. Mum and Mackenzie were still in the kitchen, and as we walked through the front hall she called, "Milo, come down for breakfast! It'll cut the taste of the potion!"
I wondered then why she had decided to let me go up to attend to Milo rather than going herself. I knew that if I were in his position I would definitely want her with me for every unpleasant moment I was going to have to go through, and especially those in which she could. It was bad enough to see him struggling about with a cane, but his hands were shaking just to take his potion. She and Dad could not have been with me when I needed them last winter, but I was thirteen and my monster was someone else, not me.
I opened the door to find our street awash in sunlight, the sky clear and deep blue, the temperature already high, and some of our Muggle neighbours out and about, waving at me in the door or staring curiously at the OGB. Their summer was apparently going swimmingly; mine was suddenly not looking so bright. The OGB ignored the more-than-casual glances he was getting to turn back to me and say, "In addition to ensuring that your brother takes his potion this evening"-he produced another bottle and pressed it into my hands-"I would like you to keep an eye on him for another reason."
I did not like the sound of this at all. I began, "I do have to look after Mackenzie too while Mum and Dad are at work like you pointed out. And I've got homework and my own life to live. If something is wrong with Milo I will do everything I can to help him, but you-"
He looked up at me with a glare that killed all further protests in my throat and repeated, "You are to observe your younger brother very closely in the coming weeks. Not every moment of the day, of course, but at those times when you are together pay special attention to him, to the things he does and how he reacts to things that happen to him. In time I will ask you for a report on what you have observed and I expect you to answer all my questions truthfully and thoroughly. There is no need to ask anyone else for help, and it is in your best interest, and his, that you be very discreet. Do you understand?"
"Yes. But why should I spy on my little brother for you?" I demanded. "What's going on with Milo that everyone seems to be talking about but no one wants to explain? I can see that he's not enjoying being a werewolf, and I didn't expect him to but obviously something else is wrong and I'd like to know what it is!"
He said slowly and evenly. "I believe you are not to visit with the Weasleys for some time, so until then this should not be so difficult. I want you to look out for any display of accidental magic, any manipulation of magic or magical objects to his advantage when possible and report it to me. Do not lie, do not omit anything to spare anyone's feelings, and do not exaggerate. This is a serious matter, and I expect you to treat it as such."
"You're not on that thing about him being a Squib again, are you?" I asked, rudely. Then I bit my lip and looked away from him again, remembering my parents' warnings and knowing that his rebuke was not going to be pleasant.
To my surprise though, he just looked at me for a moment and replied, "I'll be back tomorrow morning, and I expect that you shall be more appropriately attired. Good day, Miss Potter."
I closed the door in his face without an ounce of remorse. I hope he enjoyed his walk to the Lupins, black and a trench-coat were not suited to this weather, and for someone with a Muggle father he should have known that.
*****
Sophie Lola Rees Taylor was eleven years old, the daughter of the Blasian doctor who was the village midwife, and a Welsh Royal Naval officer. Their only child, the small girl with the pale brown skin, light brown eyes and thick, curly chocolate hair, had grown into a stubborn, strong-willed tomboy. Her parents had done their best to get her into skirts and dresses to thwart her attempts to become a real boy, but still she managed to wear a pair of ripped, old jeans, a Welsh national football team jersey, one of her Dad's old jackets and the mangiest pair of trainers I'd ever seen like a uniform while riding through Godric's Hollow on a bicycle that must have been first sold in 1923. It was so rusted and treacherous-looking that everyone firmly believed the sole reason that she still had it was because she hid it somewhere about the town where her parents couldn't find it every night.
And Sophie was Milo's best friend apart from the Weasley boys, so I was not at all surprised to hear her husky-voiced call just after noon, hailing, "Milo! 'Lo Milo! You better not be having a kip now! Milo!"
With no plans for the day, Dad still out and Mum having to go into the Ministry after breakfast I was in charge of my siblings and our entertainment. This basically translated to us being left to our own recognisance while I loosely supervised, and was probably why, until Sophie's arrival, we had been practically bored out of our minds. Mackenzie had not left the kitchen since breakfast, save to have a bath and change, and Milo had returned to bed just before Mum left. I had preferred to occupy my time with the telly, feeding Ophelia and chasing Hugo back up into Milo's room when he went out into the backyard and brought back a dead bird.
So far, my great summer of relaxation wasn't going too well.
I went to answer the door then, silently thanking Merlin for the interruption and with some measure of trepidation, Sophie Taylor could be quite a handful at times. When I opened the door for her, she casually pushed past me into the house with a "'Lo Lillie, how was school?"
I stopped her with a hand and turned her back to face me. "Good day, Sophie. Milo's sleeping, so if you would like to come back later-"
"-Again?" she asked, cutting me off. "He didn't come to school just yesterday because his Mum said he was sick, this is going to be the sixth straight month like this. Are you lot sure he's a boy? I thought only girls had a problem once a month?" Then, as if remembering something, she reddened and said, "I'm sorry, I forgot about Milo's... I didn't mean anything by that."
What exactly had my parents told everyone to explain Milo's condition? I halted her apologies quickly. "I know you didn't mean anything, I know you didn't. Milo is still sleeping though, so you may have to check back later... or you can wait with Mackenzie and me in the kitchen. I was just thinking about going round to the Lupins later today so we're waiting for Milo to get up to see if he's up to it... you can come too if you like...?"
"The Lupins? Oh I saw their son today; he was walking the baby with his Dad and Mrs Smith through Main Street. And Mrs Smith was trying to get him to visit her and Eugenie this afternoon," she replied.
"Oh really," I asked, failing to suppress the annoyance in my voice in time.
Sophie suddenly looked conspiratorial. "I was just letting you know, advance warning and all that."
"Was Eugenie there?" I asked, heading back into the kitchen and wondering how she had found out about Connor and me. But then the little show of anxiety could have gone a long way.
"No, they met her at Miss Havisham's," she said. "And she just started giggling with Olivia. I think she likes that he has green hair."
Mackenzie was at the kitchen table painstakingly putting together a fifteen hundred piece puzzle that apparently she and Dad had been building since last week. As they had only managed to get the outline and lower portion of the image of a wizened Muggle astrologer I guessed that it wasn't as easy as it must have appeared. She looked up as we entered the kitchen, said "Hi" and then went back to the puzzle.
I slid onto a stool at the kitchen counter where I'd been absently flipping through the channels for half an hour now and asked, "Green hair?"
"Well it's not entirely green; it's white and short like his Mum's and just the tips are green. I thought it was a wig at first, but it's too short and I've never seen a wig look like that. At least not one that wasn't in a movie," she replied, taking the stool beside me and picking up the remote.
Mackenzie looked up again, but this time at me. I said, "It's not a wig, that's his hair."
"He's allowed to go to school with it like that?" asked Sophie. She stared at the cartoon I'd been watching a moment and then changed the channel.
"No, he must have done it this morning," I replied. Then before she could find something odd with that, I asked, "Did Eugenie speak to him?"
"Yep, but she just said `hi', giggled, flipped her hair and walked out like so"-she hopped off the stool and began to strut about the kitchen sashaying her hips, looking over her shoulder every now and then to giggle-"and then came back to tell her Mum, and the entire shop, that she's going to be at Marie Antoinette's getting a new pair of Doc Martens. `You know the one I told you about, I hope they still have them, I'm thinking of wearing them to the garden party in three weeks.'"
Her nasal impression of Eugenie Smith was nowhere near the real thing, but at the moment hilarious. As Mackenzie and I laughed, Sophie ended her strut and resumed her place at the counter with the remote, then continued, "When she left, Mr Lupin told Connor that if he went shoe-shopping he wouldn't be able to take Zoe to Maggie's house later, because it would be Zoe's kipping time. Well Mrs Smith she asks, `Who's Maggie?' You know, instead of minding her own business, and Mr Lupin told her, `I'm sorry, I meant Lillie, Connor calls her Maggie, no idea why.' And Mrs Smith, you could have pushed her over with a feather, she asks, `Isn't Lillie dating that red-haired boy, Richard Wesley?' And Mr Lupin tells her, `No, Rigel Weasley, no, they're just friends.' And then Connor kind of went red and said that he wasn't planning to go shoe-shopping, that he already had shoes and that they had better go or they'd never get around to here before Zoe has to sleep."
Well that explained how she knew, and alerted me to the fact that most of the village now did too. But I had other concerns. "He's coming over here... why didn't you tell me before?"
"Well he's not coming yet," she replied, with a hint of annoyance. "His Dad reminded him that he doesn't know where the house is, and that he wants to give him the grand tour of the town before he disappears. And then you should have seen Mrs Smith's face, I don't think she likes you very much now. But he's fifteen, and Eugenie's eighteen, and ugly, isn't that illegal?"
I smiled. "She's not ugly."
Sophie gave me a look. I continued, "She's not ugly, and it's probably not illegal, but he's my boyfriend so I might have a problem with Eugenie trying to date him."
Sophie turned away from me to the telly and said, "And he's kind of clumsy, so she wouldn't want him around their antique shop anyway. He kept knocking things over and tripped three times on their way to Tesco. Then his Dad told him something, bought him a cap and they met Mrs Murray and left with her," she replied.
I had a feeling I knew why Uncle Lupin had bought him a cap. I asked, "Aren't there any teenaged boys in Godric's Hollow left for them to set their daughters up with?"
I had actually just been thinking aloud, but Sophie shrugged and replied anyway, "Everybody knows them. They don't know Connor but they know his Dad and they probably think he's just like him," she replied. "I don't think he is, not really. I mean, he looks like him, except for the scars, but he's more... something not much like Mr Lupin. Anyway, you don't have to worry about where Mrs Murray took them because they met this really white man in a black trench-coat and had to go back home."
That would have been the OGB. I made to ask her if she overheard anything else, but just then Mackenzie looked up and said, "Hey Milo."
Sophie and I both turned back to the kitchen door and there he was, nervously peering round the doorway at us so that only his head was visible while his mop of hair flopped down over his eyes. Sophie started towards him at once.
"'Lo Milo, I've got your comic books. Mr Fields returned them yesterday but since you didn't come to school I took them for you," she said, reaching into her jacket for them. But then I saw the look on Milo's face and stepped ahead of her.
"Hold on there a bit, Sophie. I think Milo wants something," I replied. And before she could make a significant protest, I continued out to the hall where he was already ambling back to the stairs on his cane.
Shortly after, I heard Mackenzie intercept her, asking, "Wait a minute, what were you doing in Miss Havisham's? That's a bookstore, and it sells mostly Lillie's kind of books."
There was no way Sophie could resist that kind of challenge, and Milo and I easily made it to the stairs where I finally stopped him when I asked, "Okay, Milo, what's wrong?"
He turned and looked up at me with an expression of pure terror, then swallowed and replied in a very quiet voice. "I had a nightmare. I wet my bed."
I felt my mouth open in surprise, but knew there was nothing I could do for it. What did he just say? What was happening to my little brother? This was worse than I thought.... Hugo quickly jerked me from my dark musings by hopping onto the balustrade and mewing loudly. Then I said, "Did you change your-"
I looked down; he wasn't wearing any pants, which was probably why he hadn't come all the way into the kitchen. "Okay, alright... let's go back upstairs." He turned and at once began to head back up. I asked, following him and looking back to the kitchen and hoping that Mackenzie could keep Sophie occupied a little longer, "What did you do with your bed-sheets?"
Again he replied in a very low voice, "I took my cover off the bed and put it in the bathroom with my pants. I didn't know what to do-"
He was cut off by a very familiar voice calling, "Lillie, Mackenzie, Milo...? I'm back!"
We both stopped in the middle of the hall before the door to his room, and listened as Dad continued, "Oh hello, Sophie. Mackenzie, where's your brother and sister?"
"They're upstairs, Milo just woke up."
I looked back at Milo and asked, "I think you should go to the bathroom and finish cleaning yourself up. I'll get you some clean clothes... or do you want me to go get Dad?" He instantly paled, and shook his head fiercely. "Fine, go to the bathroom and I'll try to clean up before Dad gets here."
He was halfway down the hall to the bathroom and I had just stepped into his bedroom when Dad said, "Where are you going, Milo? And why aren't you wearing any pants?" I heard him loud and clear and knew that he was at the top of the stairs.
I instantly ducked back out of Milo's room to find my little brother staring at Dad with an expression of pure terror and Dad looking understandably confused. Not wanting to worsen the situation, thinking quickly, I slipped back into the room and called, "Milo, are you in the bath yet? There are other people in the house, you know!"
He pattered off immediately and slammed the door. Then Dad continued on to his room and found me in the doorway. From the look on his face I could see that he hadn't been fooled for an instant, and he confirmed it when he asked, "What happened?"
"He had a nightmare and wet himself," I replied.
Dad pushed past me into the room, and at once began ripping the sheets up from the bed. I remained in the doorway, staring in and asked, "Has he done this before?"
"Like you informed your mother and me, you already know that he hasn't been doing well," said Dad a little too roughly for my liking as he deposited the sheets in a pile on the floor and went for the mattress. This he pulled halfway off the bed, then drawing his wand, banished the urine from and cast a few charms to refresh. Then he summoned fresh ones from the hallway closet and set about remaking the bed.
I moved to help him, but he stopped me with a look. "Get his clean clothes."
I changed direction and went to Milo's dresser instead, but asked on the way, "Has he seen anyone in Werewolf Support Services... I thought they provided counsellors for children who are werewolves now?"
Dad gave a mocking laugh and replied, "Their counsellors have either been raised on a steady diet of biases and prejudices or are the bitter results of those who have not been helped. The best help he has is Remus... but Remus isn't there when he goes to sleep. Your mother and I thought that getting him the cat to keep him company would make him feel better, but clearly it isn't working."
"He's only had Hugo for less than a day, he needs time to get used to him," I pointed out.
"Says the young lady who's had her own owl for months and can't seem to remember it," he shot back. I brazenly glared at him, but he continued, "I forgot you were also raised by a cat-lover. Milo's scared, terrified, simply speaking, and there is nothing that we can do about it but make him comfortable and hope he gets used to his situation. It doesn't make it any easier but he has to or he won't...." He stopped, shook his head and said, "Go check on your brother, see if he's finished cleaning up."
I reluctantly turned and went off to the bathroom.
Milo was drying himself off when I entered with his clothes, wisps of steam still floating about the room and the mirror completely fogged up. He looked up as I came in though, and asked, still in that worryingly quiet voice, "Is Dad angry with me?"
I looked at him puzzled, and shook my head. "No, he knows you didn't do it on purpose. Milo, you just had a nightmare and wet the bed, that's probably happened to everyone."
"Not everyone is like me," he replied, defiantly.
"No," I admitted. "But it's okay, it's going to be alright. No one in this house is going to punish you for something you can't control. I vomited on Dad's dress robes at that Ministry ball two years ago and the only thing I got was to stay in bed for three days. We're not going to like you any less because your sick, we don't care you're a werewolf and we-"
"I know that!" he snapped suddenly, cutting me off.
I blinked, and then demanded, "Then what's your problem?"
I had a feeling it was his now his embarrassment over wetting his bed that was getting to him but I would not be spoken to like that by my younger brother. When he did not answer, just stared down at his toes, I handed over his clothes and left him to get dressed in silence.
*****
Thanks to Sophie's warning I was not surprised when, in the mid-afternoon, Connor arrived at the door with his baby sister and a broad grin. As I suspected his hair was brown again beneath his cap and he looked both thirsty and tired so that I hastened to usher them into the house. But I was very surprised when, just as I was letting them in, there was the sound of the Floo in the living room and Rigel called, "Magnolia, are you home?"
Connor stopped and looked at me with an arched brow. I offered him a shrug and called back, "Yes... are-are you in the living room? What are you doing here?"
Rigel stepped out into the hall. "Whatever happened to `Good afternoon, would you like some tea?' It's that kind of thing that's going to make your visit with Grandmother very awkward, you know. The woman holds proper etiquette in high regard." Then he noticed Connor still standing in the doorway beside me, with Zoe's pram halfway through, and added, "Oh, he's here too."
Connor looked down at me and asked, "You're going to Malfoy Manor?"
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "No, but Rigel here insists that I am."
"Because you are," said Rigel. "I just came over to tell you, you're expected at the manor next weekend."
I turned back to him now and said, "Did I not tell you repeatedly that not only am I not interested in going to Malfoy Manor with you but that my parents will never allow it?"
"Yes, well, we'll see about that shortly. I know Cousin N-Tonks is back so I suppose your father is too, where's Uncle Harry?" he asked, turning to look to the kitchen now.
"How did you know my mother was back?" asked Connor.
Rigel began to walk off in the direction of the kitchen and replied without looking back, "My mother returned some time ago. She just happens to be an Auror as well so I deduced that the others must be back too. Now Magnolia, where's your father?"
Dad appeared in the kitchen doorway and asked, "You called, Mr Weasley?" But before Rigel could say a word he looked up and noticing Connor, said, "Hello Connor. And you've brought Zoe.... Is something wrong?"
Connor shook his head and smiled. "Just thought that I'd return the visit, and since my parents are kipping I decided to bring Zoe along. I hope you don't mind, she's half out herself so she shouldn't be too noisy for Milo."
"That's okay, Milo's out in the backyard with his friend, Sophie. Why don't we all gather in the kitchen for tea?" This was said in the manner of an order and not a suggestion so that when he turned back into the kitchen we all immediately and dutifully obeyed.
In the kitchen, where Dad had been helping Mackenzie put together their puzzle since he returned and once he was sure that Milo was all right again, he had us all take seats around the dinette set with them. Rigel and Connor made a point of sitting on opposite sides of the table, and as far away from each other as they could manage with places for six. Then, once he'd asked Rigel and Connor if they wanted anything, and warned Mackenzie off waking Zoe, so that she scowled and ran off to the living room to watch the telly, Dad turned to Rigel and asked, "Okay, what was it you wished to speak to me about?"
Rigel replied, "Grandmother has invited Magnolia to spend the weekend at Malfoy Manor with us and I came to find out if you'd let her go."
Dad lifted an eyebrow at him and turned to me. I shrugged and he turned back to Rigel. "Your grandmother did something for me during the war for which I will forever be grateful; in fact, it is a debt that I cannot easily repay. However, your father did something else during the war-and I'm not talking about Professor Dumbledore's death-that I cannot easily forgive. It is not my place to forgive him, and if your mother heard me now she would not be happy, but as it stands let's just say he wouldn't be welcomed with open arms if he turned up on that doorstep. And before that, her family, which is by default also yours, did even more terrible things which resulted in your grandfather Lucius' imprisonment in Azkaban. Now I know that you have done nothing wrong, and I am not holding anything against you, but I have to know whatever gave you the idea that I would allow my eldest daughter to walk into Malfoy Manor merely because your grandmother extended an invitation."
Rigel appeared to think about it for a moment, and then replied, "She's invited Connor too."
Connor looked up at him sharply. Rigel was clearly annoyed himself, and with no small amount of displeasure, clarified, "Grandmother said that it wouldn't be fair that she invited friends over family and said that he could come too."
"What else?" Dad asked.
Now Rigel was really looking for an answer. But after just a moment, he seemed to remember something and replied, "Camilla."
All three of us said at once, "What?"
Rigel smirked. "Camilla's going to be coming too."
I couldn't help it, I had to look at Dad to gauge his reaction, but he didn't appear to be at all affected by this revelation. I guess it had to be his training, for at the moment I was desperately wondering if Narcissa Malfoy realised that Camilla Longbottom was her niece, and if she did, how did she? As far as anyone was concerned the only sister of hers to have a child was Andromeda Tonks, whose daughter Nymphadora was Connor's mother. But Rigel's explanation quickly set me straight.
"It's all part of this plan of Grandmother's to make amends for past wrongs, extending the olive branch to those her family hurt. So her idea was to have us, the next generation, over to the Manor for the weekend to show goodwill and possibly for her to get to know us. I know Camilla's not related to us... yet, but since Bellatrix Lestrange is responsible for her adoptive grandparents' condition, and technically the Longbottoms are distant cousins of the Malfoys, she's been invited as well. And it's not just going to be me, Magnolia and Connor, but Camilla too... and Bijou Zabini, Matthias Flint, Homer Goyle, Aurelia McDougal, Jo-"
My father put his hand up and he stopped, and then Dad said, "You're not necessarily helping your case with the list of other teenagers at this sleepover."
"I know," admitted Rigel. "But Grandmother organised the list and said that it would help inter-House relations when we returned to school. Clearly she's pretending not to know the rivalries, but I don't think those two Gryffindors have anything to worry about. Flint and Goyle are Ravenclaws and McDougal's a Hufflepuff, and if Grandmother invited her you know they're not going to attack them. Besides, they're probably not going to show up, their invitations are being lost in the mail as we speak. It will just be me, Camilla, those two, and Grandmother. Oh, and Professor Snape, so you know those two won't be up to anything."
Connor rolled his eyes, but Dad replied after another minute's contemplation, "I'll have to speak to Hermione, though I can't really see a problem."
My jaw dropped, and beside me I was sure that Connor's had done the same. Then I asked, "Dad?"
He turned to look at me and asked in return, "Yes?"
"You're allowing me to go?"
"Rigel's not going to bite and Mrs Malfoy wouldn't dare try anything, so I don't see a problem. It'll be good for you to get to know those who have turned up their noses at us for years and rub their faces in it, and I could use a status report on activity within the Manor. You could be my little spy."
"Hey, I happen to be sitting right here," said Rigel. "And if you wanted me to spy for you, all you had to do was ask."
I just stared at Dad, until Connor interrupted, saying, "Well in that case, if Maggie can go to Malfoy Manor, can she come up with us on the full moon?"
Dad looked over to him. "Who said you're going to be there?"
Rigel at once began snickering into his hands. Connor replied, "Mum always lets me go. One day it's going to be my responsibility to watch over Dad, and especially if anything happens to her, so shouldn't Maggie know how to look over Milo?"
Once again Dad lifted an eyebrow and turned to me. Once again I shrugged and he looked back to Connor. "Well if Tonks lets you be there... which is news to me, and somewhat alarming, I don't think there will be a problem. Lupin and Milo are going to be locked away in your family's old shed anyway, with at least a hundred different protective spells around that so... well I'll have to speak to Hermione. Mrs Potter may not be an Auror like Mrs Lupin, but she is a force to be reckoned with if you get her mad."
I finally found my voice again. "Okay, who are you and where is my father? And for that matter, isn't anyone going to ask my opinion here? I don't want to go to Malfoy Manor, really, I don't. Let's not forget that I nearly died numerous times during the winter and like you said, the Malfoys had tried to do you in for years before the war. In addition to this, there's also fact that I don't want to go up with you when Milo transforms either. Milo may not want me there, even if Mum says yes. And I seriously doubt she will."
"Not necessarily," said Dad. "I banned your mother from being with us after an unfortunate incident Milo's second full moon, so I think she'll feel much better knowing that you're there with your aunt and me to give your little brother support."
Rigel asked before I could, "What unfortunate incident?"
Dad looked distinctly uncomfortable. "She tried to go into the shed when Milo started screaming. Hexed me too, when I went to stop her...."
The silence that descended after this was so acute that we could hear Milo and Sophie discussing video games clearly over the telly Mackenzie was watching rather loudly in the living room. I suspected that the volume was masking her eavesdropping at the kitchen door. But suddenly my mother's actions that morning and possibly the tension I'd noticed on the platform, which everyone knew about but us, made sense. Oh Merlin....
Then Connor asked, "So can Maggie come?"
Rigel looked up at him, glaring, and began, "What is-"
"-I'll have to ask Hermione... and Milo," said Dad, thankfully cutting him off. Then he turned to me and added, "Believe me when I tell you, Mrs Malfoy will not harm you. I owe her, big, and she will want that debt repaid somehow someday, the last thing she would want is to jeopardise that. And then there's the matter of her never being allowed to see Rigel again, something which no amount of personal revenge is worth. As for Milo... it actually would be a pretty good idea for you to come if you're allowed. You'd be helping more than you know just by sitting around in the tent."
I looked away from him to Connor who smiled, to Rigel who glared, and then back to Dad who was looking between the two with a slightly amused glint in his eyes, and exhaled heavily. Oh what the heck, it's not like I had anything better to do. I said, "Why not, it's not the only thing I've got to do for the summer that I don't want to."
All three of them looked at me curiously, but I refused to elaborate, choosing instead to reflect that I was right this morning when I thought that the appearance of the OGB was a bad sign for my summer.
Of course, I couldn't have begun to imagine then exactly how bad it was going to get.
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