'Yeah,' said Ron, his voice dripping sarcasm, 'because Fred and George put them there so they could chain up Percy when he was supposed to be babysitting.'
Mrs. Weasley was horrified. 'Fred and George chained up Percy?'
Ron looked as if he was aware he had said something he shouldn't.
'Well, it was all in good fun and they never used the leg irons — '
Ron was saved further explanation as, with a soft *pop * Mr. Weasley Apparated into the kitchen.
'Arthur!' Mrs. Weasley jumped up, startled by the sight of her husband. Ginny, too, looked at him curiously; she had never seen her father look so disheveled. His robes were creased and untidy, his red hair standing up every which way, his face crumpled into lines of strain and dismay. 'Arthur,' Mrs. Weasley said again, hurrying towards him. 'What's the matter? What are you doing back from London so soon?'
'The meeting was over,' said Mr. Weasley tonelessly. 'They've chosen a new Minister of Magic.'
Ron swiveled around in his seat to stare at his father. 'Who is it?'
Mr. Weasley swallowed visibly. 'Well,' he said slowly. 'Me.'
Hermione, Sirius and Lupin were eating breakfast in the library when Harry wandered in, tousle-haired and yawning. Hermione glanced up and smiled when she saw him, although her smile faded a bit when she realized how tired he looked. The indigo sweater he wore rather unhappily matched the blue shadows under his eyes.
'Hey,' he said, glancing around in surprise, 'how long have you guys been awake? How come nobody came and got me up?'
Sirius glanced up from the papers he was perusing. 'We thought it was better to let you sleep.'
'It must be three in the afternoon,' said Harry irritably, came over to Hermione, kissed her rather perfunctorily on the ear, and threw himself down in a chair. 'Where's Narcissa?'
'She had to go to the Ministry; there's an inquest into Lucius' death,' Sirius replied.
'Don't they want to talk to you, too, Sirius? I mean you were actually in the cell where he…'
'Exploded?' Hermione finished for him, sweetly. She felt a bit guilty about not being more sorry that Lucius was dead, but couldn't shake the feeling that, assuming that they managed to get Draco back safely and in one piece, it was the best thing that could have happened for him.
'Don't remind me. Yes, I'll be going to the Ministry tomorrow.' He flipped over a page, sighed irritably, and glared over at Lupin. 'Are you sure this translation key you gave me is correct? I can't make any sense out of this spell…'
'You've got a translation key for the Parseltongue?' asked Harry curiously.
'I managed to take the Parseltongue spell off the book,' said Lupin, pushing the diary towards Harry and Hermione. 'The problem is that the most useful part of the book, which is where Slytherin listed all the spells he used, was doubly encoded…he was apparently very suspicious that someone might try to steal his spells. He wrote in Mermish, Trollish, French…'
'Too bad Fleur isn't here to help you,' said Sirius and gave Lupin a huge, obnoxious smile.
'Giantish, Greek — shut up, Sirius — and something that looks a lot like mirror writing. Not, perhaps his best effort…'
Sirius, meanwhile, was staring cross-eyed at one of the pieces of parchment that had a spell in Mermish copied onto it. ''Enliven the fearsome sex weevil '? That can't be right.'
'Sirius…' Hermione made a face at him, reached forward, and took the parchment out of his hand. 'It says fallax proefini…imago moli…it's Latin, not a spell I know, but it means something about projecting images…' She looked at Lupin. 'Is this the Magid one?'
'What Magid one?' demanded Harry.
Lupin sighed. 'There's a spell Slytherin claimed allowed him to find his Source…that would be Rowena… wherever she was, and project himself there.'
'But Draco's not my Source,' said Harry flatly.
'No, but the mental link you have is very much like what might exist if he were. It's worth a try anyway,' said Sirius, raising his head. 'I'll put a Locator Charm on you, and once we send you through to where Draco is, I'll follow right after you.'
Hermione glanced up quickly. 'Is this going to be dangerous for Harry?'
'No,' said Lupin, a little absently, and put down the book he was holding. 'He'll be fine, especially because-'
'But we don't even know if the mental link is working,' Harry interrupted, shaking a lock of dark hair impatiently out of his eyes.
'It's not like I know where he is…'
Lupin reached into his pocket and took his wand out. 'Give me your hand, Harry — your right hand.' Harry held his hand out and Lupin turned it over, palm-up, and laid the tip of his wand against the jagged scar that ran diagonally across Harry's palm. Harry shuddered, as if this pained him, and his eyes met Hermione's across the desk. 'This scar connects you two,' said Lupin, 'just as the scar on your forehead connects you to Voldemort.'
Harry nodded. 'I know.'
'Hold still,' Lupin said.
Draco wished he could sleep, but the Wakefulness potion didn't allow it. He had been grateful at first for the alert and burning energy it gave him, but now he felt weary of it. Not that he wanted to sleep and dream — he certainly didn't want that. But he was bored.
Snape had gone into his workroom to play with his potions, and Draco had been kicking aimlessly around the house. He'd discovered very little, except that Snape had peculiar musical taste and that, if what was folded on top of the washing machine was any indication to go by, he slept in blue flannel pajamas decorated with little red hearts. Yikes, Draco thought.
