it.'
Draco couldn't think of a single smart remark to make. He just kept staring at Harry. 'You look dead.'
'You've looked better yourself.'
'You're transparent, Potter,' said Draco in a voice that sounded wavery to his own ears. 'If you're not dead, you'd better have a really good explanation as to why.'
Harry ran a hand through his hair and smiled. 'I'm an Apparition,' he said.
'That's not the word I might use…'
'I'm not really here,' explained Harry. 'There was a spell in Salazar Slytherin's book that explained how to do this and Lupin thought it would be a good idea. It's almost like Apparating, except that my body stays behind at the Mansion. You can see me here, I can walk and talk, but I can't touch anything and I don't have any substance.
And I can't be killed.' He held out a hand to Draco. 'Here, take my hand.'
Draco reached for Harry's hand and was only slightly startled when his fingers passed through Harry's as if Harry had had no more substance that a cloud. Harry dropped his arm and Draco got to his feet. His legs felt a little bit like wobbly spaghetti, but they held him.
He looked at Harry. 'I can't believe Sirius would let you do this, even if you can't be hurt.'
Harry looked slightly more embarrassed. 'Well, 'let' might not be the proper word…he was meant to come with me. But he wasn't there, and I heard what you were thinking…' He raised his chin, gave Draco a stubborn look. 'So I had Hermione do the spell and send me through.'
'I could kill myself right now and there's not a damn thing you could do about it,' Draco pointed out. 'You're not even really here, Transparent Boy.'
'Would you not call me that?'
'Sorry, it's a bit distracting talking to you when I can see through your head.'
'Did it ever occur to you that maybe Slytherin wants you to die?'
said Harry abruptly.
Draco looked at him. 'No. He wants me alive.'
'Young Master Malfoy is correct,' said a voice from behind them.
Harry and Draco had been so absorbed in glaring at each other that neither of them had seen the black- robed figure approach. Draco spun around, his eyes widening as he saw the short, round man standing on the path leading to the quarry, his hood pulled down, the moonlight reflecting off his bald head, his glittering, silver hand…
Next to him, he heard Harry give a little gasp of surprise.
'Wormtail.'
Hermione glanced up as Harry suddenly jerked sideways, his head rolling back and forth for a moment before he subsided. She let the book on her lap slide to the floor as she went over and sat down next to him on the arm of his chair.
He was quiet again, as the spell had said he would be; he wasn't supposed to even be moving. He lay immobile, breathing very shallowly, but she could see his eyes darting back and forth between his closed eyelids as if he were dreaming. Where are you, Harry? she thought. What are you seeing? Have you found him? Is he all right?
That feeling was back again, that feeling as if someone had dropped a cold anchor right in the middle of her stomach, or as if she had swallowed jagged little bits of glass. It had different when Draco had been around, closer to her, then it had felt as if she had swallowed burning matches. But this was just as bad — she missed him with a terrible acute sort of ache, and at the same time, desperately didn't want to see him, because she knew what would happen if she did.
She reached forward and gently pushed the hair out of Harry's eyes.
He didn't move, didn't seem to feel her hand, but it gave her at least a momentary sense of ease just to touch him. It was torture to worry about Draco. It was worse torture to worry about Harry. But having to worry about both of them at the same time was the worst sort of torture she could have imagined. If this love potion was meant as a punishment, she thought, it's certainly working.
The cell door clanged shut behind Sirius, clicking as it locked. His arm around Lupin's shoulders, he half- carried, half-dragged him over to the low stone bench that ran along one wall and lowered him onto it.
Lupin rolled over onto his back, looked up at Sirius, and groaned.
'When I said take me to a cell and lock me in, I didn't mean you should lock yourself in with me, Sirius.'
'I've sat with you before through the Change. I'll do it again. I can always transform if I have to.'
'No…' Lupin struggled to sit up, and Sirius was freshly alarmed by how bad he looked. Pale and sweating, Lupin reached up, plucked off his glasses, and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. 'I told you, this is different.'
'He's right,' said a voice behind them, and Sirius jumped, his heart slamming against his ribcage like an inexpertly hit Bludger. He spun around and saw a face pressed against the bars of the cell opposite -
a gray, wrinkled face set with brilliant red eyes like coruscating jewels. The demon, he thought. Apparently it had recovered from having a wardrobe dropped on it. It looked as if it would have liked to reach a hand through the bars, but the wards Sirius had put up prevented it.
'What do you know about it?' he snapped.
'The werewolf is right,' said the demon again, grinning maniacally.
'He's being Called. Stay in that cell with him, he'll tear you apart trying to get out.'
'Shut up,' Sirius told it, and turned back to Lupin, who was lying flat on the bench, his hands over his face. Sirius shuddered. All around him the dungeon was deathly cold, and every shadow contained monsters.
'He's correct?' Harry echoed, glaring at Wormtail. 'What do you mean he's correct? And how did you find us?'
Wormtail gave a cold smile. 'Us?' he repeated. 'That rather presupposes that I was looking for the both of you, doesn't it? And the sad fact is, young Mr. Potter, that I'm quite as surprised to see you as you are to see me.
