“Blimey, Harry, how did you get out of that one?” croaked Ron as Harry finished telling Ron and Hermione about the events in the Headmistress’s office on their way to Potions.

“McGonagall,” said Harry promptly.  “She lit into them — I’ve never seen anything like it!  She told the Minister under no uncertain terms that unless he had an official request for inquiry from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that he could consider the conversation over.

“And figure the odds of that happening while Dad’s in charge!” crowed Ron.

“Now Ron,” admonished Hermione, “you know very well that if there was just cause to be investigating Harry your father wouldn’t stand in the way of the law.”

“He would if he thought the investigation would jeopardize the work the Order’s doing!”

Hermione looked skeptical, but decided not to pursue the issue farther and instead turned to Harry. “So was he telling the truth?”

“Mr. Weasley?” wondered Harry.

“Of course not Mr. Weasley, I was talking about Scrimgeour.  Was he telling the truth?”

“About what?”

“About Lupin?  Is he really being held at St. Mungo’s?”

“According to McGonagall, yes.  She used that portrait — that healer, what was her name?  The one that checked on your Dad, Ron, after he’d been bit by the snake?”

“Dilys Derwent” said Hermione automatically.  “She was Headmistress of Hogwarts — can’t remember the date.”

“Be still my heart!” exclaimed Ron, clutching his chest melodramatically.  “You mean to tell me that there is actually a date that the great Hermione Granger can’t remember?”

“Oh put a sock in it, why don’t you,” suggested Hermione, but she didn’t bother to hide the small smile that was playing at the corners of her mouth. “So she used Dilys to check on Lupin?” she asked Harry.

“Yeah.  By all accounts they have him in an isolation room; top of the building.  It’s an interior room with no outside windows and only one entrance.”

“But it must have a portrait” said Ron, frowning slightly. “Otherwise how would she have known so much?”

“Interesting actually, the portrait in the isolation room is of Sir Cadogan.”

“What, that mad knight that ran us all over the castle third year when we were looking for Divination?” spluttered Ron. “The one they used to replace the fat lady and kept changing the bloody password?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, allowing himself a small grin. “Turns out he wasn’t just a wizard — or just a knight.  He invented some potion that used dragon tears.”

“Ooh! Tears of Desire!” squealed Hermione.  “Really?  Sir Cadogan?”

“The tears of what?” said Ron curiously.

“The Tears of Desire,” said Hermione, going a bit pink.  “Dragon Tears are an extremely powerful aphrodisiac.  The potion they call Tears of Desire uses Dragon Tears to make an incredibly long-lasting euphoric performance enhancer.”

“Performance enhan- oh!”  Ron’s ears turned scarlet and, more to give him a chance to recover his dignity than to show off, Harry jumped in.

“Most expensive one you can buy it seems.  According to McGonagall, Cadogan made a fortune off of his potion. Guess he was really good at getting the tears from the dragons without killing them.  Something about tying up virgins?”

“Yes, exactly,” said Hermione excitedly.  “There are only two ways to make a dragon cry, one is to steal its young; the other is to present it with a human, a virgin, bound head and foot.  The dragon cries for the purity with which it is presented.”

“So it feels bad for the, er, virgin?” said Ron curiously.

“Not so bad that he doesn’t eat her — or him,” said Harry with a wicked grin at the expression on Ron’s face.

“Him, yes,” said Hermione with a mischievous smile.  “The gender doesn’t matter to the dragon, only its purity.  So it could be a him. We all start out as virgins after all Ron.”

“Well yeah, I-I know,” stammered Ron, his ears once again reaching a boiling point.  “But how can anyone get close enough to catch the tears?  Look at all of Charlie’s burns.”

“Charlie’s hardly a virgin,” said Hermione promptly, engendering a hoot of protest from Ron.

“Come off it Hermione, you know what I mean!”

“Well, according to The Day of the Dragon — don’t look at me like that Ron, I read it back in first year after that business with Norbert.  Anyway, the Dragon is so impressed by the purity of the virgin that they become oblivious to everything around them, savoring each bite if you will.  Another person can approach them, touch them even, and the dragon will be oblivious to their presence.  So it would be easy to collect the tears.”

“Not for the virgin,” said Ron grimacing.  “So what happens when someone steals a dragon’s baby?”

“Well, the key there is to not let the dragon see you steal it,” responded Hermione.  “They see you take their young and you won’t get far, believe me.”

Harry suddenly shivered at the memory of the Horntail’s vicious attempt to disembowel him when he had taken the golden egg from her clutch back during the Tri-Wizard tournament.  He didn’t even want to think about what it would have done if it had been a baby dragon he had stolen, and not an egg.

“But if you can steal it away without their knowing, the dragon will mourn their child with no regard to anything around them.  They’ll do this for three straight days, so the collector has plenty of time to collect their tears.”

“So Cadogan offered up virgins?” wondered Harry idly.  For some reason Harry couldn’t imagine the stout little knight and his fat pony tying up young virgins so they could be eaten.

“Did McGonagall say?” wondered Hermione.

“No, but he didn’t seem the type to kill people for dragon tears.”

“Well, he was a wizard,” said Ron with a shrug.  “Maybe he used magic to save the girl-”

“Or boy,” Hermione reminded him.

“Yeah, well, maybe he used magic to keep them from, you know, getting eaten.”

“Or maybe there is a reason his portrait is locked up in an isolation room,” suggested Hermione. “And kept up on that lonely landing here in the castle.”

“Speaking of isolation rooms,” groaned Ron as the door to the Potion’s dungeon opened up and a line of first years filed out.  “We’re working on the invisibility potion again today aren’t we?”

“Quiz actually,” said Hermione, flashing a small, triumphant smile at Harry.  “Closed book.”

*     *     *

Harry couldn’t concentrate, not with the knowledge that Lupin was stuck in St. Mungo’s; not with the knowledge that Lupin was a key member of The Order of the Pheonix.  What if they got tired of waiting for Lupin to tell them what had happened that night in the hospital wing?  What if they decided to slip some Veritaserum into his water jug?  What if…?

No.  McGonagall had been very specific.  Before he had left the office — but after Scrimgeour and Gregorio had stormed out — McGonagall had lectured him sternly on not going after Lupin.

“I know you would find a way to get to London,” she had said waving her wand dismissively.  “You might even be able to figure out a way to spring him. Heaven only knows how many times you’ve demonstrated your ingenuity. But Harry, please, think.  Think of what will happen if you were to try and fail.  You would alert the Ministry to Remus’s importance.  They might get suspicious; start questioning him.  We can’t risk exposing the Order Harry.”

“But Lupin-” began Harry.

“This is a job for Arthur Weasley I think,” McGonagall had continued, cutting him off.  “Let the system work for once Harry.  They have no right to keep Remus locked up-not a legal one, anyway,” she’d amended as Harry had opened his mouth to remind her of the fact that Stan Shunpike was still languishing in a cell at Azkaban.

As if she could read his mind, McGonagall had then added, “Stan Shunpike was overheard bragging about what he had done.  True or not, they had witnesses to his little speech; no evidence of an actual crime mind you, but enough to keep him locked up, just in case.  So keep your head down on this one.  Besides, you have more important things to be worrying about right now.”

It had only been Ginny’s unspoken comment, she’s right you know Harry, let Dad handle this one.  He’s good at working the system, that had kept Harry from flying in McGonagall’s face and taking off for St. Mungo’s right then and there.  So now, here he was, teeth grinding as he tried to concentrate on the questions written on the parchment Slughorn had placed in front of each of them and failing miserably.  But he had to try; if for no other reason than the fact that Hermione would be intolerably smug if he failed another quiz.

*     *     *

“What did you think Harry, Ron?  Did you put the lungwort in before you stirred twice counterclockwise or-”

“For once, Hermione, would you skip the play-by-play?” groaned Ron as Hermione, true to nature, began going over the particulars of the quiz.  “Really, we all know you’re top of the year, do you have to rub it in?”

‘I am not!” protested Hermione.

“Bullocks!” returned Harry and Ron in unison.

“No, really, I’m ahead in most classes, but you’ve got me beat in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry,” cried Hermione brightly. “And Potions,” she added through clenched teeth for, much to Hermione’s chagrin, once Harry had been able to clear his head he had aced the Potions exam, a feat that had surprised even himself and had, of course delighted Slughorn.

“You’ve still got the rest of the term to catch up,” said Harry nastily.  He knew that part of his grade was due to Slughorn’s ill-founded belief that Harry had inherited his mother’s brilliance for potions.  The rest he owed to the detailed notes in the Half-Blood Prince’s potion book which he still used, in spite of its having once belonged to Snape.

When the three of them emerged in the Entrance Hall, they found the usual lunch crowd on their way to the Great Hall.

“Harry!  Harry!” Colin Creevey hove into view, his over-stuffed back pack making him look like a turtle in danger of flipping over onto its shell. 

“Alright Colin?” said Harry, ignoring a sharp jab in the ribs from Ron.

“Harry, I was supposed to tell you, McGonagall’s-”

“There you are Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall.  “And Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger too, how fortunate.  If you three would please follow me.”

Looking crestfallen at not having been able to deliver his message, Colin moved off toward the Great Hall.

“Oh yes, I almost forgot, someone should fetch Ms. Weasley, as this concerns her too.”

I’ll meet you there.  Ginny’s thought came through clear and Harry couldn’t help the small satisfied smile that crept onto his face when he felt her in his head.

“No need professor, she’s on her way down from Gryffindor tower now and says she’ll meet us at your office.”

McGonagall looked at him nonplussed for a moment before recovering her composure.  “Well, all right then.  After me,” and she turned on her heel, heading for the gargoyle guardian that led to the Headmistress’s office.

“I’ve had news,” said McGonagall as soon as the door to the office had shut behind Ginny.

“About Lupin?” Harry guessed, taking an involuntary step toward McGonagall’s desk.

“Seems that Arthur was successful,” said Professor McGonagall beaming at the four of them.  “As you know, yesterday I alerted Arthur to Remus’s unfortunate detention.  Remus Lupin has been released into the custody of one of the Ministry’s most valued and trusted Aurors, Kingsley Shaklebolt.”

“Cor, that was some fast work!” said Ron, sounding amazed.

“Quite brilliant actually.  It seems that your father,” McGonagall nodded toward Ron and Ginny, “suddenly ‘remembered’ that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was supposed to do a ‘routine’ sweep of St. Mungos to check for any infractions.  Turns out that they found Remus — and no record of his having been admitted, so the Department of Magical Law Enforcement took him into custody pending an investigation.”

“An investigation?” said Hermione, sounding worried.  “Professor, wouldn’t an investigation put the Order at risk?”

“Can’t they arrange for Lupin to escape of something?” wondered Harry.

Professor McGonagall gave him a sharp look over the rims of her square framed spectacles.  “I’m sure I don’t have a clue as to what you are talking about Mr. Potter,” she said, but there was a smile crinkling around her eyes and Harry couldn’t help giving her a grin in return. 

“It’s all being very well documented of course,” continued McGonagall.  “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has released a statement to the Daily Prophet stating why they have Mr. Lupin in custody and what he is being held for.”

“Dad’s nothing if not thorough,” said Ron, trying hard not to grin.

“And that’s good that he’s keeping a record of everything,” said Hermione seriously.  “That way if something does happen, there is documentation of Mr. Weasley and his Department having taken every precaution and the blame will not rest with them.”

“Scrimgeour would find a way to blame whoever he thought responsible,” said Harry grimly.

“Yes, but he wouldn’t be able to prove it,” insisted Hermione.

“You mean like how he hasn’t been able to prove that Stan Shunpike is actually a Death Eater?” Harry countered.

“You know that’s different Harry,” said Hermione with a dismissive gesture.  “Mr. Weasley doesn’t go about claiming that he’s been practicing the Dark Arts.”

“Yes well-”

Good thing they haven’t looked in our shed recently, added Ginny sub-vocally.

“I will make certain to keep you all informed,” said McGonagall, interrupting the disagreement before it could get out of hand. 

“Professor,” said Ginny, speaking out loud for the first time since they had entered McGonagall’s office.  “Is it true what they said, Scrimgeour and Gregorio I mean, about Lupin’s no longer being a werewolf?”

“All the tests are conclusive,” said McGonagall with a nod.  “The real test of course will be this next weekend when the moon is once again full.”  McGonagall paused with a glance at the distorted goblet that sat inside the glass shelf beside the melted locket and the still-intact Harp.  “Lupin’s attendants are under instructions for him not to be given any of the Wolfsbane potion.”

Harry stared at the cup, a shiver creeping up his spine.  If McGonagall was right, if drinking from the cup had cured Lupin not just of his immediate problems but of his long-term condition, what sort of power had he, Harry, been holding in his hands?  How could anyone be expected to be able to handle that kind of power?

If anyone can do it, Harry, you can.

“Yeah, right,” replied Harry without thinking.  Ron, Hermione and Professor McGonagall all looked at him.

“Er…sorry, just thinking out loud,” muttered Harry.  Damn it Ginny, I’m never going to get the hang of this.  

Just remember what Rowena said, Harry, when she was telling you about the Harp, Ginny reminded him.

Harry remembered, she had said  that “Its power, while great on its own, is nothing next to that wielded by all four of the objects on which we founded the Halls of Hogwarts, especially when united by the hand of He Who Will Heal Our Land.”

But what, Harry wondered, could it possibly mean?

I suspect that you’ll understand what it means when the time comes.

Harry could only hope that she was right.