Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"No."

"Just for a-"

"No."

"I saved your life," pointed out Ron, for what Draco suspected would not be the last time.

"And then you threw a knife at me! What's wrong with you, Weasley?"

But Ron seemed hardly to hear him. "Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Is there really a Malfoy Family Code of Conduct Rule #613 that says I get one try at you with that knife, or was that just for my benefit?"

Draco looked back at him. And grinned. "Come to think of it," he said, "Rule #613 actually states that members of the Malfoy family who have artificial limbs should not attempt sexual intercourse in the moat. Whoops."

Ron shook his head. "I had a feeling."

Draco, busying himself with rebuttoning his pajamas, was startled when he looked up and saw that Ron was looking at him curiously.

Ron paused, took a breath, and said: "Hey. Malfoy."

"What?"

"Do you play chess?"

"No."

"Do you want to learn?"

"I'm really not sure I can help you, Mr. Black." Dr Branford glanced into the darkened cell, then back at Sirius. "Or your dog," he added, nervously.

"He's not a dog."

"No, I suppose he's more of a wolf, isn't he? A very large, vicious-looking wolf."

"He's unconscious."

"Isn't that fortunate. Look, I'm not exactly sure I understand why you summoned me here."

"My friend John Walton at St Mungo's told me you were the best for treating Dark Arts ailments."

"Yes," agreed the doctor. "I'm the best for treating Dark Arts ailments. In people. Not in animals."

Sirius gritted his teeth. "He is not an animal. He's a werewolf."

"He can't be a werewolf," said Dr Branford, with admirable dignity considering that Sirius was glaring at him with a quelling ferocity.

"It's daytime."

"I know that. That's why I called you here. He should have changed back, but he hasn't."

"I'm not a vet, Mr. Black. I'm a mediwizard. Wouldn't an Auror-"

"As for Aurors, I'm an Auror, and I can tell you right now the Aurors College won't be able to help with this. All they'll want to do is bring him to their labs to be studied."

"Just because he's a werewolf?"

"Because it's the middle of the day and he's still a wolf. Because he's suffering from something I've never seen before."

"I told you," said the sharp voice of the demon from the other cell, "he is being Called. When he awakens, then you will hear such howling as you have never heard. He will tear his way through the bars trying to get out, trying to get to his Master."

Sirius regarded its gloating little face with loathing, noting with satisfaction that its head seemed somewhat flattened where Harry had dropped the wardrobe on it. "I told you to shut up, demon," he began, and broke off, seeing by the expression on little Dr.

Branford's face that the good doctor had formed the opinion that Sirius was none too stable. The fact that he had a demon and a werewolf locked in his cellar doubtless contributed, along with the fact that Sirius, who had barely had time to shave or comb his hair in the past two days, was beginning to look a lot like his post-Azkaban Wanted poster.

Sirius turned back to him with a sigh. "Look…he's not an animal. If he was, I would have called a veterinarian. Could you just…look at him?"

The doctor sighed. Then, with an anxious grimace, he knelt down on the wet floor of the dungeon and poked his wand through the bars, touching the tip of it to the werewolf's fur. When he drew the wand back, it was emitting an uneven beam of spinning violet light. "Well, it seems to be true that he's human," said the doctor, standing up and turning the wand over in his hand, examining the light beam.

"And he's been hit with quite a strong Stunning charm. Magid strength, I'd say. If you don't wake him, he'll be out like a light for at least a day."

"Is he in any danger? Is he dying?"

"Just unconscious. I can't say for sure how long this unconsciousness is going to last, but I'll give you some charms for pain in case he wakes up. More than that, I really can't do."

"Thanks, doctor," said Sirius, listlessly accepting the Charm packets Dr. Branford drew out of his little black bag, and pocketing them.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," said the doctor, edging away from Sirius. "I'll just be getting on now, shall I?"

"I'll owl you if there's any change-"

"No, please don't," said Dr. Branford, and fled.

Sirius sighed, leaning his head against the bars of the cage, hearing the doctor's footsteps fade away in the distance. Slowly, he took his wand out of the sleeve of his robe, and tapped the tip of it against one of the cell bars. "Alter orbis attinge," he said, using a spell that he had learned during Auror training, which would alert him when Lupin awoke with a buzzing of his wand. He looked down at Lupin.

"Old friend," he said softly. "What have I gotten you into?"

The wolf made no reply, and in fact there was no sound in the dungeon whatsoever, outside of the demon's harsh breathing and the guilty beating of Sirius' own heart.

"I'm not sure staring at that thing like it's going out of style is going to give you any insight, Hermione," said Harry.

Hermione looked up from her examination of the Lycanthe, and shot him a look. They were both sitting at the kitchen table, Hermione surrounded by books and notes, the Lycanthe lying on a dinner plate in front of her. The Wizarding Wireless Network buzzed faintly in the background. The inquest into Lucius Malfoy's death continues at Ministry Headquarters in London…meanwhile, in more rural news, an upsurge in werewolf sightings has been reported by wizards in the south…

"On the other hand," Harry added hastily, "if you're enjoying yourself, more power to you."

Charlie glanced over at them curiously from his place by the stove.

He had an apron tied around his waist and was stirring a pot of vegetables with a long wooden spoon. Ron had been teasing him unmercifully about his apron, but Hermione privately thought he looked cute. Something about him, in fact, was making her wonder if Harry could cook anything. Probably not, there had never been much opportunity for Harry, busy with world-saving and evil-defeating as he was, to learn how to boil so much as an egg. "What are you talking about?" Charlie asked.

"This," said Hermione slightly dispiritedly, holding up the Lycanthe.

"I've been trying to figure out what it is, what it does, but so far…"

"I've seen that shape," said Charlie, wiping his hands off on a tea-towel and walking over to stand by Hermione. "Carved into the side of trees in the forest. It's old."

"It's a Lycanthe," said Hermione. "It protects travellers against werewolves. Only, I think it does other things as well. When I hold it-

"

"Can I see?" Charlie asked, and held out his hand.

Feeling an actual stab of reluctance at the thought of letting go of it, Hermione handed it over. Charlie turned it over curiously in his fingers. "Monitum ex quod audiri nequit," he murmured, and it gave off a sudden sharp flash, like sparked tinder. "Ow!" Charlie exclaimed, and dropped it back into her hand, looking sheepish. "I guess that didn't work."

Relieved to have it back, Hermione smiled at him. "That's okay."

The cellar door banged open and Ginny emerged, looking dusty and irritable. Hermione glanced up at her. "Anything?"

Ginny shook her head. "I found Fred and George's magazine collection under a paving stone. And when I say collection, I do mean collection. It was edifying." She shook her head. "That cellar is huge," she added. "And its got all sorts of twisty little corridors leading off every which way."

There was a thunking sound, which turned out to be Ron jogging down the stairs. He came into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, took out a carton of milk, and drank out of it.