Smoke & Mirrors

A/N Hambares: No, I'm afraid the squirrel isn't Dumbledore. It's Quercus, whose wizard photography caused Harry and Snape so much grief, and who Snape's been accused of murdering. You were right about the squirrel looking for sex tips (Chapter 6) being an animagus, though - that was Quercus too ;-)

Chapter 10 In Hagrid's Hut

Hermione stared incredulously at the small, fair-haired wizard. Quercus didn't look nearly as spruce and cocky as when she and Ron, hot on Harry's trail, had visited his photo studio in Knockturn Alley last May. Now, he was grubby and bedraggled, and looked definitely frightened.

"I thought you were dead!" Hermione repeated.

"That's why I'm here," Quercus replied, glancing apprehensively over his shoulder. His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn't used it for a while. He coughed. "I'm hiding. They're using my 'death' to trap Severus Snape. They can't afford me to be seen alive!" He sounded almost hysterical. "You've got to help me. They'll kill me if they find me!"

"Who are they?" asked Hermione. "And how long have you been hiding in Hogwarts grounds?"

"I followed Severus Snape back here the night he burnt my studio down. I knew I wasn't safe when I saw the headlines in the Daily Prophet. I've been in my Animagus form ever since. Mind you, I'm getting a wee bit fed up of being a squirrel, scuttling round burying my nuts." He smirked a little, with an echo of his former jauntiness. "But it was good back in the summer, I saw those two at it under my oak tree, mmm, delicious. Made me wish I was a Florimagus; just imagine if I was the oak tree, feeling Severus Snape grinding Harry Potter's bare buttocks against my bark. Oooh, gorgeous!"

"I think you're disgusting," Hermione said coldly. "But I suppose I'll have to help, if only to prove that Professor Snape didn't kill you." She looked sternly at Quercus. "And you must help us try and get to the bottom of what's going on."

Quercus sniggered. "I know all sorts of things, dearie," he said with feeble bravado, "but my lips are absolutely sealed."

"Well, you'd better unseal them if you want us to help you," Hermione said.

"No offence, dear, but I think I'd better keep shtum until I can talk to the gorgeous Harry Potter himself," said Quercus.

"Oh, suit yourself," Hermione said huffily. "You'll just have to wait till he gets back, then."

"And goodness knows when that will be, eh, Crookshanks," she added to her cat, as they both scowled at Quercus, a squirrel once more, scuttling furtively off into the forest.

But in fact only a day or two passed before Harry returned to Hogwarts. He flew into the grounds on Buckbeak, swooping low over the Forbidden Forest late one evening. He tied the hippogriff to a tree out of sight, put on his
Invisibility Cloak, and cautiously crept up to the castle.

Hermione, sitting poring over a large pile of books, suddenly felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Giving a startled gasp, she looked round, but couldn't see anyone lurking in the shadowy depths of the library.

"Sssh, it's me, Harry," came a soft whisper. "Thought I'd find you in here. Meet me by Hagrid's old hut in half an hour. Don't let anyone see you."

By the time Hermione got there, Harry had a fire going, and the old copper kettle hissing above the flames. Hermione dug out a couple of huge mugs and made tea, while Harry went out to cast a few perfunctory charms to conceal the light from the windows and the smoke pouring from the chimney.

"That'll do for now," he said, coming back inside. "I'll get Professor Flitwick to give me a hand tomorrow, do a better job hiding this place from prying eyes."

"Yes, the fewer people who know you're here, the better," Hermione said seriously. "Specially as Malfoy's back, finishing his NEWTs course. And it does look as though someone has it in for you and Professor Snape, all sorts of nasty stories have been appearing in the Daily Prophet lately."

The two of them sat at the large wooden table and drank their tea, while Harry brought Hermione up to date with his news.

"– so Ron decided to go back to Romania with Charlie for a few more days," he finished. "And I flew here on Buckbeak. I didn't want to go back to Oskar Hinzel's place, and anyway I can probably do more good here, investigating whatever dirty tricks Malfoy's up to."

"We'd better make sure Buckbeak's well hidden, too," Hermione said. "As far as I know that execution order never got rescinded, and if someone at the Ministry wants to make trouble ..."

"Yeah, I can't see that Witherwings scam working twice," Harry said. "Anyway, how about you? What's been happening here, apart from nasty stories in the Prophet?"

"Oh, Harry, you'll never believe it – Quercus isn't dead! He's another unregistered Animagus, he's been lurking around Hogwarts as a squirrel ever since his studio was burnt. And, er, apparently he spied on you and Professor Snape, from an oak tree ..."

Harry blushed; he had a vivid memory of the avid looks the squirrel had given them as they made love against the tree ... And as for that damned photograph of his ...

"Bloody Quercus! I suppose I'm glad he's not dead, but he's caused a hell of a lot of trouble ..." He looked down at the table and sighed. "Another thing, Hermione. How am I going to let Severus know where I am? No way am I going anywhere near Oskar Hinzel again, and I don't want to risk a message getting intercepted."

Hermione frowned. "I may be able to help you there," she said. "Is Professor Snape still at Durmstrang?"

Harry shrugged. "Far as I know. Why?"

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "Well, actually, I heard from Viktor the other day – he's playing in a Quidditch European Cup game this Saturday in Scotland, he wanted to know if I'd like him to get me a ticket."

"So?"

"So I could give Viktor your message, and he'll pass it on to Snape at Durmstrang – he still visits his old school, and I'm sure we can trust him."

"Yeah, OK, but I've got a better idea," Harry said. "Tell him to get you TWO tickets! I'll come to the match with you and give him the message myself; be nice to see international-level Quidditch, and Krum's a great player."

"Oh, is that wise?" Hermione asked anxiously. "You need to lie low until we can investigate what's going on, and clear you and Snape."

"I can always wear my Invisibility Cloak," Harry said impatiently. "I'm not going to get much investigating done stuck here in the cabin, am I? Oh, and talking of investigating, Ron said Dobby's managed to find something out?"

"Ah, yes ... " Hermione said. "He wouldn't tell anyone but you about it though. Oh, and Quercus reckons he's got information he wanted to give just you, as well."

"Popular, aren't I?" grinned Harry. "I'm not so sure I want to see Quercus though. I'd rather he went back to London." His smile fading, Harry added bitterly, "I'm sure he'd enjoy scuttling around the bushes on Hampstead Heath spying on people."

After Hermione had gone, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated hard. He was never quite sure how to do this, but ... "Here goes," he muttered. "Kreacher! Dobby!"

With a crack! a small house elf appeared, and beamed happily up at Harry. "Dobby is very pleased to see Harry Potter safe and well," he squeaked. "There is bad wizards plotting against Harry Potter and his Professor, sir!"

"Oh?" Harry said curiously. "And talking of bad wizards, what's young Malfoy been up to?"

But in turned out that Dobby didn't have anything concrete to tell him – just hints and rumours. Nor had Malfoy appeared to do anything suspicious while at the Ministry, as far as the house elf could tell. But, since getting back to Hogwarts ...

"Dobby has seen Draco Malfoy trying to break into Professor Snape's office, sir!"

"Hmm, I wonder what he's after," Harry said, frowning. "Professor Slughorn hasn't taken over that office, then?"

"Oh, no," Dobby said. "Professor Slughorn has the Potions dungeon but Professor Snape's office is still his, sir. Some of his most private things is kept there."

"Well, if I know Severus, he'll have his stuff protected with some pretty fancy spells. Lethal, even! I'd better take a look, though. And what about Kreacher? Why isn't he here to report, too?"

"Oh sir, Kreacher is a bad house elf, he is getting himself arrested!" Dobby squeaked indignantly. It turned out that Kreacher had been detained by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for being in the Ministry without permission, and 'behaving suspiciously'.

"Shit, that's my fault," Harry said. "I shouldn't have put you two in such a risky position."

Dobby snorted. "It is easy for house elves to be staying out of sight, sir. Kreacher was deliberately getting himself caught to cause trouble for Harry Potter!"

"Yeah well, even so. I'd better see about getting him out of there," Harry said.

"Harry Potter should stay here where he is safe," squeaked the house elf. "Dobby will bring food from the kitchens and look after Harry Potter without anyone knowing he is here."

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said. "But I'm not skulking in here all the time, you know."

"Harry Potter must be careful," Dobby said anxiously.

"Oh, don't fuss, Dobby," Harry said. "I'm off to a Quidditch match on Saturday night anyway, I'm not missing that."

Dobby shook his head dubiously, but said no more.

****************************************************

"Er, no, sorry; I'm saving this seat for a friend." They were in very good seats high above a remote Scottish moor, currently the scene of the Quidditch European Cup game between the Montrose Magpies and the Vratsa Vultures. Hermione had just fended off yet another hopeful spectator from the apparently empty seat beside her.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered crossly under her breath. "I sound like Mr Crouch's house elf at the World Cup."

Harry smirked under his Invisibility Cloak but was too busy keeping his feet away from hurrying spectators to reply. However, luckily everyone soon settled down as the two teams flew out onto the pitch, and an amplified voice echoed round the stadium from the commentary box. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 12th match in the 117th European Cup. Presenting ... from Scotland ... the ... MONTROSE MAGPIES!!!!"

Loud cheers from the crowd.

"And ... from Bulgaria ... the ... VRATSA VULTURES!"

More cheers, mainly from the stands opposite where most of the Bulgarian supporters were gathered.

"And let's give a warm welcome to our referee from France, Etienne Sardinier, formerly of ... QUIBERON QUAFFLEPUNCHERS!"

More cheers.

Harry leaned forward eagerly as the game began; he hadn't seen Quidditch at anything approaching this level since the World Cup – and how long ago THAT seemed! Play was fast and furious; the Chasers just blurs as they shot past on their finely-tuned broomsticks. hurling the Quaffle back and forth and dodging viciously aimed Bludgers from the Beaters. It was soon apparent that the Magpies, although very good, were outclassed: half an hour into the game the score stood at 20 - 100 against them, and their only hope was an early Snitch capture. But there was no chance of that, Harry thought, not with Viktor Krum playing Seeker for the Vultures.

The Magpies evidently felt the same; as Krum shot past after a real or feigned sighting of the Snitch, one of their Chasers grabbed his broomtail, momentarily slowing him to a crawl. There were angry yells from the Bulgarian spectators, and a loud shrill from the referee's whistle.

"Penalty against Montrose Magpies for blagging!" boomed the commentator.

The game rapidly got dirtier after that: both sides were awarded penalties and the spectators' language got pretty foul, too. At least the Scottish supporters' did, and although Harry didn't understand what the Bulgarian supporters were saying, he was pretty sure theirs did too. The referee repeatedly blew his whistle and gesticulated angrily at the offending players. At one point he stopped the game for five minutes while he subjected both sides to an animated harangue.

It was almost a relief when, shortly before midnight, Krum made his most dramatic plunge yet, from high above to almost ground level, his fingertips just brushing the heather which grew thickly over the moor. Roars went up from the crowd as he slowly rose into the air again, holding up a clenched fist to show the golden gleam of the trapped and struggling Snitch. The game was over.

****************************************************

"Well, here we are," Harry said brightly an hour later, as the three of them approached Hagrid's old cabin. "Like to come in for a nightcap?"

Krum stared in disbelief at the burnt ruins of the gamekeeper's hut. "Vot do you mean?"

"Oh yeah, sorry; I was forgetting," said Harry, pulling a slip of parchment out of his pocket. "Here, read this." He handed the parchment to Krum.

"I got Professor Flitwick to do a sort of Fidelius Charm for me," he added to Hermione, then realised that she was staring blankly at the ground. "Golly, it even works on you, and you already knew I'm hiding here – you'd better read Professor Flitwick's note too!"

Hermione took the parchment from Krum, and read:

Harry Potter's hiding place is the gamekeeper's hut formerly belonging to Rubeus Hagrid.

"Oh, that's clever! So Professor Flitwick's your Secret-keeper? But I won't come in now, thanks, Harry, it's really late – I'd better get back to Gryffindor Tower."

"Oh, von't you stay, Hermy-own-ninny?" Viktor Krum sounded disappointed.

"Um, I'll just pop inside and ..." mumbled Harry, feeling embarrassed. "Leave you to say goodnight?"

He went into the cabin and busied himself lighting the fire and putting two of Hagrid's huge mugs on the table. A few minutes later Krum came in, scowling. "Hermy-own-ninny has gone to bed," he said.

"Er, right. Would you like some tea?" asked Harry.

Krum shrugged. "Haff you anything stronger?"

"Um, dunno, let's see ..." Harry rummaged around in the big wooden cupboard, emerging triumphantly with a large barrel clasped awkwardly to his chest. "Yeah, trust Hagrid ... mead, I think."

They managed to tap the barrel and poured out two huge mugfuls; Harry heated up the big brass poker in the fire and plunged it into each mug in turn with a loud hiss to warm their drinks.

Viktor Krum sat glumly staring at the fire and drinking his mead. Harry tried to talk about the match, but at first his guest only wanted to talk about Hermione.

"Does she haff a boyfriend at Hogvarts?" he asked Harry.

"Not at the moment," Harry said. "She was with Ron Weasley for quite a while, but they had a big row and split up."

Krum looked a little more cheerful, and drained his mug. Harry got up to refill it.

"And you?" Krum asked. "I heard you are vith Professor Snape now?"

Harry took a deep gulp of his mead. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Krum nodded sagely. "I am not so surprised. At the Triwizard Tournament, I saw how he looked at you. Not hate only, desire also. He vos obssessed vith you; I could see it vos only a matter of time before he took you."

Harry had another draught of mead, thinking back to his first night with Severus Snape: his first with any man. How it had marked him for life, how – Quercus's photographic spells notwithstanding – he'd never really wanted anyone else since. How Severus had given him both ecstacy and pain, and yet how it had been the older wizard who had been racked with anguished sobs before falling asleep in his arms.

But he couldn't say any of this to Krum, and even if he'd wanted to, the mead wouldn't have let him – it seemed to be numbing his tongue. How had Hagrid managed to drink so much of this stuff?

"Uh – m-mish him SHO mush," was all he could manage, before he slumped over the table, head pillowed on one arm, and began to snore loudly, fast asleep.

TBC >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Please review!