Chapter VIII: The Reckoning

Whatever the legendary Hogwarts rumour-mill claimed later, Harry had been minding his own business up until the explosion. He’d completed his assignment on three different types of painkilling herb (the ones he’d picked probably hadn’t been the ones Professor Sprout had in mind, but they fit the criteria) and had gone up to the old music rooms for a little peace and quiet before dinner. He was on his way downstairs, but had taken a wrong turn somewhere and was looking for the next staircase; once he reached the ground floor, he reasoned, the Great Hall couldn’t be hard to find.

Unless there’s a trick staircase that deposits me in Snape’s en-suite bathroom, and let’s face it, it’s not impossible. Harry had found the idiosyncratic Hogwarts staircases amusing for all of half an hour. He glanced at his watch, and swore. At this rate he’d be lucky to get there before curfew, let alone-

There was a tremendous explosion. Harry drew his wand and ran headlong for the source before he had time to wonder if this was really his problem. He sprinted around a corner and came face to face with the back of Professor Quirrell’s head, which was a distinctly uncomfortable experience given that the blasting hex had been a bit more powerful than he’d really intended and torn Quirrell’s turban off. Pain shot through his scar. “Oh, fuck…”

“Quirinus! Behind you!” Voldemort called. Quirrell spun around with his wand upraised. Harry had absolutely no idea what was going on but he knew clear and present danger when he saw it, and fired a Stunner, and quite a powerful one for a first year. It didn’t get past Quirrell’s shield, but it distracted him long enough for Harry to make a break for it.

“Oh, no you don’t! Crucio!”

Harry threw himself to the ground as the Unforgivable sizzled overhead. “Bloody hell,” he remarked to nobody in particular.

Meanwhile, Frederick Parkinson was being escorted to the headmaster’s study by Professor Snape, and becoming rather worried at the somewhat younger man’s air of barely suppressed rage. He had a shrewd idea that his audience was not going to be a sympathetic one.

“Ah, Mr Parkinson,” Albus said in a tone of razor-edged civility that would have done credit to a James Bond villain. “Do take a seat.” Frederick sat. “I’ve become aware that yours and Ms Rosier’s divorce proceedings have become rather… acrimonious.”

That’s a bloody understatement, thought everyone in the room.

Well, nearly everyone. “The divorce was hardly my idea,” Parkinson growled. “Nor was clearing off with my damn money.”

“That’s not entirely fair, Fred,” Winnie replied. “The sum I removed from the joint account is actually significantly less than the dowry you received when we married, and the monthly stipend I’m requesting is fairly modest.”

“And what exactly am I getting in return?” he replied.

“The knowledge that our daughter will not want for the basic necessities of life and has access to a few of the luxuries. No court in the country will let you off with much less, and you make twice what I’m asking for in a week!”

“I’m afraid she’s quite right,” Albus agreed. “If you wish to submit yourself to a means test and allow the authorities to determine how much your former spouse is entitled to, that is your right. However, if yourself and Ms Rosier can settle this aspect of the proceedings to your own mutual satisfaction beforehand it would greatly facilitate the resolution of your respective custody and access rights.”

Parkinson glowered. “I’m certain you already know my views on that. Pansy has been mixing with some extremely unsuitable members of her peer group.”

“I’ve seen nothing to give me cause for concern,” replied Severus, who was beginning to enjoy himself. “Could you be a little more specific?”

“Yes, I most certainly can. Am I to understand that you allowed Pansy to spend Christmas with the family of one Natalie Grey?”

“That is correct. You see, Frederick…” Albus paused. “There is no delicate way to put this, I’m afraid. The DMLE has become aware of some of your more heated remarks, and they take a rather dim view of them.”

Parkinson ground his teeth. “You set the bloody aurors on me?” he demanded.

“You did rather alarm me,” Winnie replied, still in that oh-so-reasonable tone.

“And why shouldn’t I? You walked out on me, taking my daughter and my money-”

Someone rapped sharply on the door. “Come in,” Albus said mildly, shrugging an apology.

“Ah, Headmaster. I’m terribly sorry about this,” Reynard said without sincerity. “Mr Parkinson? I’m DS Brown, Special Taskforce, and this is DC Maxwell. Could we have a word, please?”

Did I commit some heinous, unforgivable sin in a previous life, or am I just very unlucky? Harry tightened his grip on his wand, knowing full well that he was hardly a match for his own DADA teacher but determined to have a damn good go. A blasting hex, he decided. No. Disarming charm first, then blasting hex. Harry gripped his wand, hoping and praying he could catch Quirrell unawares…

The suit of armour he was hiding behind rocked, and began to topple. Harry hurled himself out of the way, rolling and trying to aim his wand. But Quirrell had been expecting that and ducked behind another suit of armour. Harry fired a banishing charm at it, but merely made it wobble; they were much heavier than they looked.

“Nice try, Potter! Come on, out with you. There’s someone here who’d quite like to meet you.”

“Indeed,” Voldemort agreed. “We were never properly introduced, though you were of course a little young.”

“Go back to hell!” Harry snapped, looking for a way out that wouldn’t involve dodging Unforgivables.

“Halt! Armed police officers!” someone yelled. Quirrell lunged forward and grabbed Harry by the collar before he could get out of the way.

“Put those things down or I’ll kill him!” Quirrell bellowed, planting his wand firmly against Harry’s temple.

“Give it up, Quirinus,” sighed Edward. “I can drop you with this before you get past the first syllable. Let the lad go.”

“And spend the rest of my life in Azkaban?”

“Not a chance. All we’ve got on you right now is breaking and entering, going equipped for burglary and maybe criminal damage; they’ll give you community service and a stiff fine at the worst. But if you hurt Harry you’ll be up for your free bus pass before you get out. Your choice.”

“Master,” Quirrell whispered, “I think it best if you make yourself scarce for a few minutes. I think I can bluff my way out of this, but if they see you…”

“We already did. You, Mr Riddle, have been a very naughty boy indeed!” Edward declared, doing a rather good impression of John Thaw as Reagan in The Sweeny. “I’m not exactly sure what we’re going to do with you yet, but we can work that out down the nick. Come on, now, you’ll only dig yourselves in deeper…”

Harry decided to force the issue, and slammed his elbow into Quirrell’s groin, grabbing his assailant’s wand hand and sinking his teeth into it as the man folded up around his testicles. Quirrell swore, and grabbed for Harry a second time, but this time Harry grabbed for his windpipe. Quirrell yelled in pain as Harry’s hands touched his skin, jerking backwards with both hands clutched to his throat.

“What the bloody hell-?”

“Blood magic,” Voldemort hissed. “Watch yourself, Quirrell; I need you alive.”

“That’s comforting,” he murmured, assuming a fighting stance.

“Last warning, Quirrell!” Edward yelled, taking aim.

“Go to hell, mudblood! Avada-”

Edward and Michelle both fired at once, and at that range there was no possibility of missing. Quirrell staggered, wand slipping from his fingers.

“Damn!” Voldemort raged.

Quirrell had time for a gasp of pain, then his head blew apart like an overripe watermelon. A vague, ghostly form emerged from the corpse as it fell, and turned its face towards Harry.

“So we meet at last, Master Potter. When I first set eyes on you, you were but an infant.”

“I still managed to blow you clean through the playroom wall,” Harry replied smugly.

“As cocky as your father, I see.” Voldemort waved a transparent arm, and Harry felt the hairs on his skin rise as a powerful and unfamiliar ward surrounded their immediate vicinity. “There. We can talk in private for a few moments.”

Harry retrieved his own wand, and wondered what might work on… well, whatever Voldemort was now. “Doesn’t seem we’ve much to say to one another,” he replied coldly. “What are you hoping to achieve?”

“I wanted to make you an offer,” Voldemort replied. “Clearly, you are a young man of considerable magical talent and unusual courage. Your attributes would take you far in my service, and you would be greatly rewarded. Power, learning, wealth; anything you desire can be yours.”

“There are two things I desire,” Harry replied simply. “I want certain sections of wizarding society to see their blood-purity obsession for the pile of hippogriff crap it is, and I want to avenge the murder of my parents. Allying myself with you would be a bit counterproductive, don’t you think?”

“And if the only alternative were death?” Voldemort replied icily.

“Oh, threats now, is it? Kiss my arse, Riddle.” Harry laughed. “Oh, and I think your cover’s blown now.”

Voldemort looked behind him. Dumbledore and two men he didn’t recognise had come running, and were staring at him in utter astonishment. Sparks flickered over the wards as bullets and a powerful Stunner ricocheted off them.

“It’s of no consequence. If they fire anything that could pierce those wards they’ll blast Hogwarts all over the Scottish Highlands.”

Harry raised his wand. “Finite Incanteum!”

There was a soft breeze as the wards collapsed. All their power had been focused upon external threats, with nothing to hold against attack from within. Voldemort cursed openly, and shot upwards through the ceiling.

There was a long silence. “Oh,” Reynard said at last.

Harry carefully lowered his wand. “How…?”

“Dark magic,” Albus replied. “Perhaps the darkest there is. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, pocketing his wand very carefully. “I… I’m fine, Professor. Just a little shaken.”

“That probably goes for all of us,” Edward replied. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

By the time they reached the Headmaster’s office, Harry’s hands had begun to shake. A mug of tea was handed to him, heavily laden with sugar. “And Remus drinks it like this of his own free will?” Harry grimaced.

“I sympathise, child, but it will help counteract the effects of shock. Now, what exactly did Voldemort want from you?”

“Actually, he offered me a job.” Harry laughed lightly. “Flattering, really. Draco told me once that his father thought every Slytherin should have three kinds of friends; those who were powerful, those who could be controlled and those who were both. I wonder which one he thinks I am?”

“Now there’s a thought.”

Reynard’s watch alarm bleeped urgently. “Bugger. Better go.”

Hermione read the letter from Kelly for the second time.

Dear Neenie,

Don’t have much time to write because I’m about to go out, and this blasted bird is cacking all over my desk. Just wanted you to know that I miss you, and warn you in advance that you’ll be seeing more of Mr Lupin in the near future. Who knows, maybe I’ll be a Mrs Lupin one day!

Sorry, really have to go now.

All my love,

Danger.

Hermione sighed. “I warned her about that damn petname,” she growled.

“I think it’s sweet,” Fran replied. “Wonder where she’s going, anyway.”

“Probably to pay a surprise visit to her new boyfriend…” Hermione paused. “Oh, God...”

“What's wrong-?” Fran followed Hermione’s gaze towards the moon. “Oh. Well, if he really is a werewolf, she’s in for a hell of a shock when she gets to his house.”

Remus took several deep breaths and leaned back against the wall, trying to relax. He’d known the Wolf-Pack for a while now, but wasn’t yet feeling ready to experience a transformation in company, even the company of fellow Lycans. Padfoot and Prongs always used said I was too shy for my own good, he mused, glancing up at the sketch tacked to the ceiling of the old broom cupboard.

Then he saw the massive, jagged crack in the cupboard door, and realised to his horror that it was on the verge of breaking in two. “Oh, dear God, no… Ahhh!”

Remus fell to his knees, fighting to hold the beast back until he could unlock the safe in one corner of the cupboard. A single spell could repair the door, even if his wand was toothpicks the next morning…

His hand became a paw before he even touched it.

Kelly parked the battered old pickup truck she’d inherited when her uncle retired from the building trade, wishing for the first time in ages that she’d got rid of the damn thing and bought something a bit more ladylike. If I’m not careful, he’ll end up taking me to a Wild West theme pub or something…

Crash!

“Holy shit!” Kelly began carefully backing away as the huge… thing eyed her. “R… Remus? Is that you?”

The werewolf froze for a second, muscles trembling as if waging some desperate internal struggle. The faction that didn’t wish to use Kelly as a chew-toy lost, and it launched itself at her.

Kelly had always prided herself on being a level-headed woman, and was extremely pleased to find that she didn’t panic. She raised both hands, placing her palms against the werewolf’s chest as it dived at her, let herself be knocked down but pushed…

Her tactics would have worked perfectly without any outside interference. Moony would have gone sailing over her, giving Kelly ample time to roll under the pickup and wait for daylight, at which point she would have been confronted with a totally naked and slightly hysterical man whom she would have quite shamelessly taken advantage of. But instead, something extremely weird happened to them both…

Remus awoke from a very strange dream indeed -involving himself and Kelly Granger exchanging wedding vows, of all things- to a reality that was if possible even stranger. First of all, he appeared to by lying on top of Kelly in an extremely compromising position, which was going to cause them both considerable embarassment if he hadn’t moved by the time she regained consciousness. He tried to stand, but suddenly realised that his knees were bending in a non-standard direction.

What the…? Fuck me sideways, I’m still a bloody werewolf! Remus leapt to his feet with an astonished yelp, landing heavily on his back and struggling upright.

“Keep the noise down,” Kelly suggested sleepily. “I was really enjoying that dream…”

Dream? Hmm, I wonder if it had me in it.

“Yes, actually.”

Wha-a...? You can hear me?

Kelly thought about it. “Broadly, yes. But not with my ears, if that makes any sense.” A bit like this, in fact, her voice added inside his head.

Remus blinked a couple of times. I see. Erm… What exactly did that dream involve, by the way?

Let’s just say I was in white, and you looked very handsome.

Remus wagged his tail in a somewhat exaggerated fashion. You looked pretty good yourself.

Why thank you. Now, shall we go inside? It’s starting to rain.

Erm… I don’t have a key on me. Remus would have buried his face in his hands if he’d had any hands to speak of. It’s less than half an hour to sunrise. When I revert to my normal self, I will be entirely without apparel. If I try to get in through the window I’m going to get four pawfuls of broken glass, and if I call a locksmith he’ll have me carted off by the police for indecent exposure.

He winced; smashing that door down had hurt, and he’d have a fine collection of bruises when he got his body back. Maybe I could tell the police I was mugged…

Kelly climbed through the window and opened the front door for him. There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Thank you. Remus padded carefully up the garden path and into the hallway. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a cup of coffee…

Don’t worry about it. So, what do you think that dream meant?

Haven’t the foggiest. Remus wolf-grinned. Not a bad suggestion, though. Uh-oh. Cover your eyes for a minute, this bit isn’t pretty…

“All over?” she asked after a few moments.

“Yes, but you can’t open arrgh!”

“Eeek!”

Remus grabbed the old bathrobe he kept by the cupboard for the mornings after as Kelly doubled over with a fit of giggles.

Sorry, should have warned you about that.

Who says I didn’t like the view?

Remus made a strangled sort of noise, and flushed crimson. Kelly rolled her eyes, and twined her arms around his shoulders. “I mean, I wouldn’t have said ‘I do’ in that dream unless there was a good reason,” she murmured. “And that was before I saw you naked…” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. After a second’s hesitation, Remus pulled her to him and returned the kiss with a will.

So do I take it you might like to really get married one day? Kelly giggled.

I’ll marry you right now if you like.

Very tempting, but it’s a bit far to Las Vegas. Besides, I think we ought to get to know each other properly first…