A Debt Called In

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to JKR. The original plot and story belong to Velvet Song. Any resemblance to anything living or dead is purely coincidental.

Author's Note: This is a continuation of Velvet Song's story "Damsels & Dragons", which she has graciously allowed me to adopt. You will find the first thirteen chapters of her story here: http: //www. thepetulantpoetess.com /viewstory.php?sid =18337 (remove the spaces first). I might suggest you read her story first in order to understand what has been happening.

Virtual hugs to Fizzabella and writermerrin for the beta of this chapter. The story is now complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Thank you for all the lovely reviews. The stroking is much appreciated.

A Debt Called In

"Now then, what's this all about?" Phelps asked as he sat down behind his desk. He waved a hand absentmindedly. "Er, please, have a seat."

Hermione looked around the office. Every available flat surface was covered with parchments and books, even the chairs. By removing several stacks of books, they managed to uncover a sofa large enough for the three of them to sit on.

"We were told you knew Severus Snape," Remus said, squeezing in between Lucius and Hermione on the sofa. "Did you?"

"Severus?" Phelps looked up from a parchment and frowned. "Good man. Shame about his death."

"How did you meet?" Lucius asked. "If it wouldn't betray any confidences, of course."

Phelps waved his long fingers airily. "No confidences to betray. He brewed a potion for me."

Tell him he still owes me a bottle of Ogden's Old Hundred Year Reserve.

"I'm not going to tell him that," Hermione protested under her breath.

"Come again?" Phelps looked at her curiously. "Did you say something?"

"Uh..." Hermione blushed. "Not exactly."

You want him to believe. Tell him.

"No!" she barked.

"Hermione," Remus said, his hand squeezing hers in warning. "What's going on?"

She looked up at the window behind Phelps and blinked. Severus floated there, his wings fanning idly as he watched the wizards. "Er..." She hesitated. "He says..."

Remus and Lucius looked in the same direction. "Oh," Lucius said, understanding. "Well, yes, I see."

Phelps looked at them apprehensively. "Is there a problem?" He turned to look out the window just as Severus faded from view. Blinking, he turned back to the room. "Perhaps you should go..."

"Severus says you still owe him a bottle of Ogden's Old Hundred Year Reserve," Hermione said in a rush. She gulped in a breath and held it.

"How did you know that?" Phelps sputtered. "Severus and I never discussed that with anyone, not even my wife."

She let out the breath she was holding. "It's true, then?" she asked. "You do owe him?"

"Miss...I'm sorry, I didn't get your names," Phelps said, blinking hard. "What do you want with me?"

Lucius smiled suavely. "I am Lucius Malfoy," he said, "Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts. This is Hermione Granger, our Potions instructor, and Remus Lupin, who teaches Transfiguration."

Phelps paled at the name Malfoy, then peered at Hermione and Remus. "You're war heroes," he said. "Why would you need to speak with me?"

"As Hermione said, we need help with a translation," Lucius said. "It's a spell that we have been informed was spoken in Gothic. As none of us," he indicated himself and his companions, "speak Gothic, we were directed to you."

"By who?" Phelps asked warily.

"Severus Snape," Hermione said, her voice cracking on the syllables in her nervousness.

Phelps glared at her. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked angrily. "Severus Snape is dead."

"He's not," Hermione retorted hotly. "He was cursed and we're trying to reverse it."

"Hermione," Remus warned, squeezing her hand hard.

She jerked her hand away and jumped to her feet. "Stop it, Remus. He needs to know."

"We will require a wand oath, you know," Lucius interjected smoothly. "Then you can tell him everything."

"A wand oath?" Phelps pulled his wand out of the top drawer of his desk. "Easily done. What am I swearing to?" He grinned in anticipation. "Is it top secret business from the Ministry?"

"Not exactly." Remus hesitated a moment in thought. "We will require your oath that you will not repeat anything you see or hear of this matter to anyone, except those people we indicate are already possessed of this same knowledge."

"I do so swear," Phelps said with a grin as the tip of his wand glowed bright yellow. "Now, that's settled, what is this all about, eh?" He slipped his wand back into the desk drawer and looked at them expectantly. "Obviously, you need me to translate some Gothic spell."

Lucius leaned back into the sofa and nonchalantly extended his legs as Hermione reseated herself. "Did you really promise Severus a bottle of Ogden's Old Hundred Year Reserve?" he asked. Phelps nodded. "I'm impressed. Even the cellars of Malfoy Manor don't contain many bottles of such a rare firewhisky. Where did you get it?"

"Lucius, stay on the topic," Remus hissed. "We can talk about this after."

Tell Phelps to look out the window.

Hermione visibly started. "Mr Phelps, would you look out your window, please?"

Swiveling in his chair, Phelps did as he was asked, only to shrink back in alarm as Severus came into view once more. "That's a Shadow Dragon," he yelped, reaching for his wand.

Remus jumped up and grabbed at the arm scrabbling in the desk drawer. "It's okay," he said. "He's a friend."

"A friend?" Phelps looked at them and shook his head. "Dragons aren't friends with humans. They tend to view us as dinner."

You're too stringy.

Hermione gasped, then giggled in embarrassment. "I can't tell him that."

Why not?

"It's not nice."

"Er, Miss Granger?"

"Yes?"

"To whom are you speaking?" Phelps regarded her with an expression that plainly said he should call St. Mungo's for her.

"The dragon," Hermione answered calmly. "He says you're too stringy to eat, by the way."

Lucius dissolved into laughter while Remus smiled bemusedly. Phelps could only gape at her.

"What do you mean by that?" he gasped in anger, turning back to the window. "What do you mean, too stringy?" He shook his fist at Severus, who was taking his time to fade back into the shadows. "Where'd he go?" Phelps peered out the window into the courtyard shadows.

Ask him if the Fructuarius Potion worked.

"He wants to know if the Fructuarius Potion worked," Hermione dutifully related. She looked out the window as if she could see the dragon. "A male fertility potion? Really?"

Phelps sputtered and hemmed, his face turning red with embarrassment, as well as a little pride. "Two boys and a girl over the next five years," he eventually admitted. "My wife was, and is, well pleased with the results. Now, explain how you knew that."

"The dragon told me," she explained. "You see..."

Lucius interrupted. "The dragon is the one we at Hogwarts call Athair. But, and this is the reason we asked for your wand oath..."

"...he's really Severus Snape," Remus said, finishing the thought.

"Tom Riddle cursed him," Hermione said, going on.

"And we discovered the curse was spoken in Gothic..." Remus went on.

"So, Severus suggested we come talk to you." Lucius looked at the other wizard in expectation.

Phelps goggled at them, his head flipping back and forth between them as though he was watching a Quidditch match. "That dragon is Severus Snape?" he gasped. "Really?"

He collapsed back in his chair, one hand held over his heart, as they nodded. "Merciful gods, this is amazing! Can all of you talk to him? Could I?" He swiveled to look out the window once more.

"Er, no," Hermione said. "Apparently, I'm the only one."

Marigold can hear me.

"With the exception of his house-elf," she said hastily. Remus and Lupin stared at her. "What? He just told me that."

Phelps leaned forward on his desk and steepled his hands. "Fascinating," he said. "Where is this spell you want me to translate? I assume you have it with you."

"Um, no," Remus said. "Since none of us can understand Gothic, the original spell is still at Hogwarts."

"Then who told you it was Gothic?"

Hermione bit her lower lip. "A house-elf," she volunteered quietly.

"A house-elf?" Phelps repeated in astonishment. "A house-elf told you that this spell was written in Gothic." He shook his head. "I don't believe this," he muttered.

"You should," Lucius said, visibly annoyed. "And it's a spoken spell, not written. This particular house-elf served a scholar of Gothic until his old master died. I believe..."

"Wait, wait," Phelps interrupted. "A Gothic scholar? Who? When did he die?"

"We don't know who," Remus answered. "Penti didn't give us his name, but apparently he died about eighty years ago..."

"Possibly old Gragson, then," Phelps mused. "What a treasure trove that house-elf's mind must be. I really must speak with it."

"Him," Hermione corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"Penti is a him, not an it."

"Not now, Hermione," Lucius said with a chuckle. "Save your lecture on house-elf rights until we remove the curse from Severus."

She sighed heavily. "Very well, Lucius."

"Now, Mr Phelps, when can you come to Hogwarts?" Lucius asked the bemused wizard. "We have only a short time to remove the curse."

"Would tomorrow be soon enough?" Phelps asked. "I need to let my wife know where I'm going."

"That will be fine," Lucius said, forestalling the complaints of his companions. "So long as you don't tell her why, we can expect you in the morning?"

"Certainly, certainly." Phelps dug out a sheet of parchment and a quill. "I'll have to write up my questions for this house-elf of yours. No one in the Gothic community knew where he disappeared to after Gragson died."

Lucius reached out and stilled his hand. "Nothing on paper, if you please," he said. "It's far too easy for someone else to find."

Indeed.

A/N: The word fructuarius is Latin for "make fertile/fruitful" according to the Latin Dictionary and Grammar Guide from Notre Dame University.