"To Hogsmeade!"
I pointed as I said it, aiming my finger down the path of hard-packed dirt that winded down from Hogwarts. I didn't get much of a response. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were swathed in scarves and wrapped inside jackets. They weren't the only ones. Pretty much every student in sight was under layers and shivering. The wind was sharp and the weather felt like snow.
"L-L-Let's get on with it," Ron said, his teeth chattering.
I was the least heavily dressed, just wearing one jacket. While walking, I looked the other three over. You couldn't see much of them. Only their faces were poking out above their scarves.
"So… Hogsmeade," I said. "The whole school seemed pretty excited about this. What do you do there?"
"There's Honeydukes. They sell candy," Harry said. "The Three Broomsticks is always good for a bite to eat."
"Plus, the landlady is—" Ron said.
Hermione's foot found its way in front of his. Ron fell and smacked his face. When he lifted his head, his nose was a bright red.
"Sorry," Hermione said. "My mistake.'
Ron yanked himself up, furiously rubbing his nose. "What was that for?"
"I said it wasn't on purpose!"
"There's also Zonko's Joke Shop," Harry said quickly.
"I heard it's closed now. Fred and George mentioned it— that it's all boarded up," Ron said.
I could see Harry struggling to come up with anything else. Hermione stepped in. "Madame Puddifoot's is always popular."
"Madame What-Now's?" I asked.
"Madame Puddifoot's. It's a tea shop," Hermione said. "Couples adore it."
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Lots of dates go there."
His voice was dark. Ron leaned over to Hermione. "Nice going," he mumbled.
Hermione's eyes darted between Harry and Ron, looking pityingly at the former and angrily at the latter. She didn't keep the conversation going. The whole group got quiet and moody, freezing wind blowing us in the face.
I sighed. This was going to be a long day.
Everyone had talked so much about Hogsmeade weekends, it made me want to see it. Plus, that's where Tonks was stationed. It would be nice to see her. I wouldn't have minded catching up, but today I was on guard duty. Hogsmeade wasn't as safe as Hogwarts. If Death Eaters were going to target Harry, this would be the best day to do it.
The conversation stayed dead for the rest of the trip. I didn't poke the corpse. Harry had been mopey ever since Madame Puddifoot's was mentioned, Ron was mourning Zonko's and glaring at Hermione, while Hermione had been in a bad mood ever since Ron brought up the Three Broomsticks proprietress. The sight of what used to be Zonko's, boarded up and hollow, didn't help. It wasn't until we ducked into Honeyduke's that their attitudes picked up.
The candy shop smelled inside of honey and fudge. It was a solid thirty degrees warmer than the outside. Between those two things, Harry cracked a smile, and Hermione actually spoke.
"Should we get something for Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. "He's been looking quite grim recently. You could give it to him when you go for your lesson!"
Word came that morning about our next meeting with Dumbledore. Monday was the day that had been picked, two nights from now.
"You think he'd care?" Ron asked. "Hogsmeade is right here. If Dumbledore wants candy, he probably just goes and buys some."
"It's not about that," Hermione said. "It's about giving a gift. It shows that you care."
"Maybe I'll grab him something…" Harry said.
He leaned into the shelf to look at boxes of Bouncing Biscuits — apparently, if you threw them at the table, they'd launch back up like rubber balls — and mulled over the options. Harry kept moving and rounded the corner of the display shelf. Instead of finding more options, he collided with a professor.
Slughorn laughed boisterously as Harry rebounded off his gut.
"So eager to see me again?" the professor asked. "That's good, because I've been looking everywhere for you, Harry." Slughorn waggled a thick finger on the hand that wasn't holding his candy shopping. "You've been dodging my dinners!"
"Oh… Well, you know, Professor. Quidditch has been keeping me busy," Harry said.
"I imagine it has! I expect to see that pay off on the field, after all of this work." Slughorn's eyes moved past Harry. They acknowledged Hermione, barely hovered over Ron for a second, and landed on me. "You aren't the only one we've been missing there."
After what Daphne said about Slughorn's so-called Slug Club, I'd been staying out of the professor's way. I didn't want to outright turn him down, because I still planned to cash in those favors he promised me on the Hogwarts Express, if I ever needed something from one of the staff. That didn't mean I wanted to waste a night socializing at a teacher's socialite hangout. So far, I'd escaped using Slughorn's weakness.
He was fat.
Hear me out. He could only lumber so fast. Any time I saw him in the halls, I'd pretend I hadn't noticed him and walk the other way, too fast for him to follow. It worked surprisingly great.
But it was too late to act like I didn't seen him now. And unless I wanted to run back into the cold, Honeyduke's wasn't big enough for me to escape.
"Parties?" I asked.
Hermione had already been going. Her performance in potions immediately caught Slughorn's eye. She usually seemed inconvenienced by the attention. Ron wanted to go, but hadn't been invited, which was really the only reason he cared. If Slughorn had been after him the way that he was after Harry, Ron would've thrown a tantrum about having to go. At least that's what I thought.
"I like to call them dinners," Slughorn said, "although make no mistake, they get quite boisterous! Why, once last year, Gwenog Jones— You'll know her, of course? British international Beater, star of the all-female Holyhead Harpies? Well, she had a good number of drinks and pulled Albert Pugsley, an absolutely adept Potioneer, into a ballroom dance across the tabletops. The way that woman can leap! If you're so fond of Quidditch, Harry, she'll be at my next party. I'm certain she would give you pointers. Maybe even a few how-to's on making it to the professional game, hmm?"
"When was this dinner supposed to be, sir?" Harry asked.
Like me, he had his own strategy to duck Slughorn. Harry's was a little sneakier. He'd tell Slughorn that he had Quidditch Practice. Then, he'd would go and schedule one for that night. Perks of being the captain.
"Monday!" Slughorn said. "Can I count on seeing the two of you there?"
Harry barely avoided smiling. "Sorry, Professor. Percy and I have a meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore that night. Hermione can go, though."
Hermione glared at him, both for pointing that out and for leaving her on her own yet another time.
"Truly? It's as if we're cursed! But I'll get you two yet," Slughorn said. "Until next time boys, Hermione. Enjoy your day off. Hopefully without too much mischief."
Slughorn winked at us and left the store. Right away, Honeydukes felt a lot less crowded. Harry released a sigh of relief.
"That's some luck," Harry said, mostly to me, his partner in playing hooky.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know why the two of you treat it like it's some horrible threat! They can be a bit boring at times, but they're not that bad."
"Fun, even?" Ron asked.
"Sometimes, of course—"
It had been a trap, one Hermione spotted too late. Ron stomped away among the shelves of candy. Hermione made a face with her lips pursed and her eyebrows low on her forehead. She went after him. With nothing else to do, Harry and I started shopping.
"Ron's always had a complex when it comes to standing out," Harry admittedly, when he was sure his best friend was on the opposite side of the store. "I think it has to do with five older brothers. Doesn't help that one of them was Quidditch captain and two were Head Boy. Even the twins are impressive, in their way…"
Harry didn't know how to explain better than that, but I understood what he meant. Travis and Connor Stole were two of the most resourceful demigods I'd ever met. The fact that they used their skills to swap the Aphrodite Cabin's lipstick supply for ketchup and fill the Ares Cabin's armor with itching powder didn't change that. Sometimes, troublemaking took talent.
"Ron'll get over it," I said. "We could always get him an invitation. You know, once Slughorn finally catches us."
"If he catches us." I got the feeling Harry wasn't joking. The dude was serious about his hate for socializing. "And, yeah, I could do that. But if Ron found out I asked Slughorn, he'd think it was out of pity. It might upset him more."
"Sounds complicated."
Harry shrugged. "He comes through when you need him," he said.
Ron was in a better mood when he and Hermione showed back up, Ron's arms filled with Treacle Tarts and sours.
"Should we hit the Three Broomsticks?" he asked, animatedly tapping his foot.
"Why not?" Harry said.
We trudged back into the cold. The day wasn't dry anymore, the wind carrying icy water on it. It hit like needles on our skin. I subtly diverted as much as I could without making it obvious, keeping our group dryer than anyone else.
It was about a block from Honeyduke's to the Three Broomsticks. When we were maybe a third of the way there, something pink showed up in the corner of my eye. I turned my head and there was Tonks, bundled in Auror robes that she had pulled up as far as they would go. She was about six inches shorter than normal so that she could hide in her robes. I ducked away from the other three.
"I'll be right back!" I said.
Harry wasn't a little kid. He could handle a few minutes without me while I talked to a friend.
"You look cold."
Tonks turned her head as I came closer. She'd made herself so small that her robes came past the base of her nose. She leaned her head back to look at me.
"Wotcher, Percy." She was even talking more quietly than usual. "I don't suppose you're here to warm me up?"
I shifted the course of the sleet, diverting it off of us. I tapped Tonks's shoulder and dried her off.
"If you were hoping for more, I'm on Harry-watching duty today. I can't spare the time."
"Figures." Tonks sighed, growing to fill her robes like normal. "I'm on the clock too. We have to keep Hogsmeade safe! Even if we freeze to death doing it!"
"Not a fan of the new post?"
"Right now? It's miserable," Tonks groaned. "We're here as a deterrent. Death Eaters don't want to attack a town with four Aurors in it. Sure, they could kill us if enough of them came, but that's not how they do things. They like attacking families and undefended houses, not duelists who can fight back. If they attacked somewhere like Hogsmeade, it would be for a reason. And there's nothing they want here."
"Except Harry. A few days out of the year."
"Right." Tonks started walking again. "But when that happens, he shows up with a handsome freak of nature who dodges spells and causes tsunamis. Oh, and he's got a sword as well."
I waved, and Tonks rolled her eyes, smiling. She was in a much better mood now that she wasn't dripping wet.
"I think the Ministry is going to try to use him soon," Tonks said. "They're doing their best to cover up how bad things are. You aren't going to read in the Prophet about everyone who's going missing. That's bad for morale. By Christmas, I reckon they'll try to bring Harry in to tell everyone that everything's just fine in the world."
I mulled it over for a second. That was all the time I needed.
"That sounds like a crap idea."
Tonks laughed, and shrugged. "Hey, don't take it out on the poor little Auror!" She got serious. "You're right, by the way. Harry doesn't like being used. The last minister tried to paint him as a degenerate little fame chaser. There's no world where he's forgotten about that."
The impression I had of Harry wasn't the kind of guy to go along quietly and do what he was told. We were alike, in that way. We both had a tendency to let our smart mouths run when we were told go here, do this.
"Where is he, by the way?" Tonks asked.
"Oh, he's at the Three Broomsticks—"
Around the corner, Tonks and I heard something hit the front of the building. A second later came Harry's voice. "You've nicked his things!"
"They're supposed to be at the Three Broomsticks," I muttered.
Tonks had already gone ahead. I saw her scowl when she got far enough away that sleet touched her skin. I followed in time to watch her swing her wand. Harry was forced back, letting go of a man he'd shoved against the window of Gladrag's Wizardwear.
The second Harry's hands were off of him, this guy disappeared with a pop. He'd been short and fat, kind of like a younger and clean-shaven version of Nereus, the all-knowing homeless man I once wrestled in San Francisco Bay.
Harry glared at Tonks before he even recognized her. His gaze didn't mellow much when he did see who it was.
"You'll have to let it go, Harry," Tonks said. "Mundungus has a talent for getting under people's skin. It's one of his two strengths… The other is getting away from anyone who wants a piece of him. That one he learned from experience."
"Sirius's things!" Harry was so mad that he wasn't making complete sentences. "A Galleon a piece! Mundungus was selling them!"
Tonks patted his shoulder. Harry's hand twitched like he wanted to knock it back.
"I'll ask someone to look into it. Remus would be willing," Tonks said. "For now, take your day off. Don't think about it too much."
Harry nodded, his teeth clenched together, and turned his back on her. He walked with Hermione and Ron behind him, silently going toward the Three Broomsticks. I shrugged at Tonks and followed them, going back to doing my job. She watched me go sadly, fresh sleet making her pink hair fall in front of her eyes, giving her the gift of unwanted bangs.
I caught up with Harry right after they marched into the Three Broomsticks. Looking around, it seemed like a homey place. The floorboards were a little uneven. If you stepped in the right places, they'd squeak at you when you went by. The ceiling was so tall that I wondered if it was built with non-humans in mind. Harry went straight to a table near the fireplace, under the watchful eyes of at least twenty mounted elk heads.
There was a lantern hanging from the ceiling directly over the table, making Harry's forehead cast a downward shadow over his mouth and cheeks.
"Mundungus didn't even wait. He went and stole from Sirius's house when Sirius is barely in the ground!"
Ron and Hermione looked at each other.
"Harry, that's your house now," Hermione said gently.
Her words managed to calm Harry down. Mostly by shocking him, if I was right.
"Mine… Yeah, I guess it is," Harry said. He was calm now, but he didn't sound happy.
"Sorry, who is Sirius? And what did that Mundungus guy do?"
"They're members of the Order," Hermione said. She lowered her voice appropriately, to keep eavesdroppers from hearing the group's name. "Well, Sirius was in the Order. He was Harry's godfather. He… died. Last year."
"When I led my friends into a trap," Harry said.
He turned around in his seat and scanned the room for the waitress to drown his worries in Butterbeer. Ron was doing the same thing, although the treat he was after was getting a look at the owner herself. Harry's search turned up nothing. The beautiful woman I'd heard about was nowhere to be seen.
Harry turned back to us, grudgingly empty-handed. He would've liked a drink for this conversation.
"I'm going to make Mundungus stop," Harry said. "I'll tell Dumbledore about it. The Headmaster can set things straight. I've heard he's the only one that Mundungus listens to."
"Excellent idea!" Hermione, predictably, was in favor of going to an authority figure. "You can tell him at your next meeting!"
I was still looking around the room. At first, I didn't think much of the waitress not being here. She was probably in the back. But as I looked, I saw two older students sitting next to empty plates, the girl tapping her foot while the guy looked around every few seconds. An adult wizard was sitting with nothing in front of him, no drinks and no food, his arms crossed. There were only two tables that had food, and both of them were close to the end of their meals. The food was old, in other words.
"How many people work here?" I asked.
"Rosmerta usually handles it herself," Ron said. "She's a fast cook. A good one, too! And she likes interacting with the customers. Flashing them that smile of hers…"
Since Harry and Hermione weren't interested in hearing Ron rant about his crush, they turned the conversation to theorizing what Dumbledore's lesson might include. Harry had told his friends what Dumbledore showed us the first time. I still hadn't mentioned the memory I saw after he left. I wasn't sure how to explain Hecate. Mostly, I wasn't sure how much to say.
I stood up. "I'm going to the bathroom," I said.
My throat was dry from walking in the wind. If we weren't going to be served, I'd drink from the bathroom sink. It was still water. Plus, with my powers, I wouldn't have to do anything demeaning like bending over and turning my face up under the faucet. I could drink from the sink with dignity!
Anyway, I wove between tables and ducked past the staircase to the second floor. The bathrooms were all the way at the back. The door was enchanted, so when I pushed it open it sang a little song at me. It was even marginally off-key, the way a guy in the shower might sound.
I went straight for the old brass sink underneath the bathroom mirror. Barely, in the edge of my vision, I saw movement.
I spun. Riptide came out of my pocket. My thumb flipped the cap off mid-swing. I was ready to turn my body to the side, to make it a smaller target, but there was no bolt. A voice said, "Imperio." The magic gripped my body with nothing to dodge.
I felt… good? Unnaturally good. Like I was floating on my back in the middle of a warm seat, Hippocampi sucking on my toes and fingers. What? Don't knock it until you've tried it. No spa, no matter how expensive, matches the massages those fish-horses can give.
But I wasn't in the ocean. The nearest Hippocampi was a hundred miles away, and I was standing in the bathroom of a bar I'd never visited before. The voice that cursed me spoke again. It belonged to a woman… in the men's bathroom! Scandalous.
"Go back to Hogwarts. Take this to Dumbledore. Make sure you deliver it. Do not stop for anything."
There was something weird about her voice. It was flat and her sentences were all short. It was like she was reading from a list.
The tide I was 'floating' in started to flow. It urged me to go along with what she said. Don't question it! Just turn around, take what she was offering, and find Dumbledore.
I snapped through the urge like I was tearing free of restraints.
I finished my swing of Riptide. I knocked a parcel out of the woman's hands and swung my sword back, using the flat to smack her hand. She dropped her wand. Weirdly, she didn't cry out in pain. She was beautiful, with wavy hair and bright green eyes. Her body made her blouse noticeably un-modest, especially right around her chest. She tried to pick her wand up. I put my forearm across her neck and pinned her to the wall. Her back hit the wood hard enough to shake the wood.
"What did you try to do to me?" I asked.
"Take the package to Dumbledore," she said. "Don't stop for anything."
Something was wrong with her. She was like a broken record. I dropped Riptide, drawing my wand instead. Using one of the new spells I'd learned, I said, "Stupefy."
Her green eyes closed. She went limp against my arm. I slid her down the wall.
The package I was supposed to deliver was laying next to the door. I picked Riptide up again and prodded the wrapping. It tore. Inside, blue gems were tied together by links of gold. A necklace?
Even my impulsiveness has limits. I reached out with Riptide and picked it up on the flat of the blade. Lifting her, I looked down Riptide's bronze surface. All I could see was a necklace… but my sixth sense was telling me there was something wrong with it. I flicked it into the corner of the room, far away from everywhere else, and pushed the door open.
I retraced my steps back to our table. Ron noticed me first, probably because he was on the lookout for Rosmerta. Who I was pretty sure I just knocked unconscious in her own bathroom.
"That was a long one," Ron said. "Did you have to drop a log?"
Hermione scrunched her nose. "Don't be crude."
"I'm just asking!" Ron said.
Harry didn't banter with them. He must've felt that something was up. Like me, he probably had a sixth sense for this kind of thing. You develop that when you almost die enough times.
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.
"Maybe," I said. "What's your opinion on ominous necklaces? And, follow-up question, if someone pointed their wand at me and said Imperius… Would that be bad?"