Harry said hastily, “Continuing the briefing. The central point of this Magic Desert is...” He paused, then said, “Wait. There’s something I have to do first.”

  He disappeared with a ‘pop,’ reappearing next to Ron. Harry cast a quick Muffliato excluding himself, Ron, and playing it safe, Hannah, in case her services were needed again.

  “Ron, I need you to listen to me carefully, and keep your face completely blank. It is very important that you show no reaction to what I am about to say. Got it?”

  Ron nodded, puzzled. Harry hesitated, then decided to start with the ‘good’ news. “Where we are going to be has Absolutely NO Spiders. No big ones, no little ones. In fact spiders will not go anywhere near this spot, understand?”

  Ron nodded again, more slowly. Harry was dead proud of him. He had hardly paled at all, and the slight widening of his eyes could be attributed to almost anything.

  Harry reenforced his message. "It is the center of the old nest, but...” he said quickly as the pupils of Ron’s eyes dilated. “...after Riddle chased them out, they never, ever came back. Understand?”

  Ron nodded a third time, a very slight jerky motion. Harry gave Hannah a meaningful look, which she acknowledged with a lift of her chin. He disapparated back to the dais.

  “Sorry about that,” Harry said as he picked the pointer back up. “I had to make sure Weasley was up for his role in the operation. He is going to be running the perimeter force, so if you’re assigned to that, get with him after.”

  “Continuing again. The central point of this Magic Desert is the grove of trees that was the center of the Acromantulae nest.”

  There was a chorus of groans and grumbles. “Oh, grow up, people,” Ron called from the back. "It’s just spiders. If anybody is too nervous, you can ask Harry about switching with me.”

  Harry didn’t have to catch Ron’s eye to know how he was supposed to handle that.

  “Actually, after Tom Riddle forced them to attack Hogwarts, the few spiders left scattered. They’ve never returned to that area. Isn’t that right, Hagrid?”

  “Yeh, ‘at’s th’ way of it. Spiders kin sense where Dark Magic ‘as bin done, an’ they won’ go near.”

  Ron is looking more confident all the time, Harry thought. He continued, “When Hagrid and I..., (Sweetfang lifted her head from her roast, and looked at Harry), ...and the pups were scouting, we got to within about, how far would you say, Hagrid?”

  Hagrid helpfully tapped the map, and a glowing pink triangle rose from the ridgeline area.

  “About there,” Harry said. “We couldn't see into the grove, but we could see light filtering up from the ground, through the tree cover. Not one large light source, but many small sources, moving around. And it was a very strange sort of light...” Harry paused. “Best to show you. Luna, did you bring what I asked?”

  Though continuing to look severely at Harry, Luna still nodded, and brought out her wand. She waved it, pointing in the air along the length of the trestle table she was sitting at. Small packages landed in front of each person seated there. She repeated the casting on the tables to either side.

  The packages turned out to be over-sized slip-in eyeglass cases. A murmur arose as people removed the contents. Many just seemed confused, some looked amused, and a few appeared to be indignant.

  “Put them on,” said Harry.

  One of the indignant types rose, brandishing the pair of glasses he had found in the case.

  “Potter, is this some kind of bloody joke!? I’m not putting this trash on my...”

  “Langarm.” The flat, cold delivery of the word cut through the Auror’s beginning rant. Waiting to make sure he had the man’s full attention, Harry then went on.

  “Cerberus, I am not asking you a favor. I am giving you an order, as Head of the Department in which you work. You take the order, or you leave. If you leave, the next time you see me will be in the Ministry’s Salle d’Armes. Sit. Down.”

  As Cerberus Langarm sat down, flushing, Harry scanned the other faces.

  “Good a time as any,” he said. “I was promoted over the heads of many of you. Not because I am ‘Famous Harry Potter.’ Because I am the best person for this job. And...,” he continued, catching Langarm’s eye, “...if it takes a duel to satisfy someone, then a duel there will be. And, when someone loses, someone will be carrying their personal effects out of the phone booth by the skip. Which will be a good place to throw away the rest of their career.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Harry paused, looking over the crowd again. “I can tolerate resentment, if it does not affect your work or your attitude. I will not brook insolence.” He leant forward. “Put the glasses on.”

  Almost as one, the hands came up, and the glasses went on. Harry put his on, as well, looking back at the faces watching him.

  “Well,” he said calmly. “Don’t we look like a bunch of demented, psychedelic owls.”

  People looked up at him on the dais, wearing the gaudy, glittering magnificence that only SpectreSpecs can attain. They started looking around at each other. Cerberus Langarm turned red, then redder, then started shading into purple, until he suddenly, inevitably, burst...

  ...into laughter. He threw his head back, roaring, pounding the table with his fists. Which, of course, set everybody off.

  “Seriously, Luna?” Harry yelled across the din. “Do they have to look so..., SO?”

  Luna looked very smug when she replied. “All completely necessary!” she yelled back. “The wings pick up the ethereal waves, the glitter and sequins focus them, and the stroboscopic lenses filter them past the retina directly to the optic nerve. Perfectly sensible!”

  Harry let it go on for a minute, then said loudly, “Okay, OKAY! That’s ENOUGH.”

  When he got no response to that, he looked over his shoulder, and, in his normal voice said, “Direfang?”

  The great beast popped to his feet. The Great Hall went completely silent, save for echoes dying down, and giggling coming from over by the Kitchen doors. Direfang looked disappointed.

  “That’s all right, boy,” Harry said. “I’m going to need you in a minute, anyway.” Direfang proudly settled onto his haunches.

  Harry turned back to the suddenly attentive audience. “The glow we saw was in a colour we have no name for. Experimentation showed it to be invisible to the unaided eye. Some effect of the protective spells on our group let us see it. When I stepped outside our circle of protection, Hagrid saw that I was giving off the color, even though I saw nothing.”

  Harry spread his hands out palms up. “We’re calling it the Colour of Magic.”

  A murmur rose from the group. Harry pushed on, forcefully. “If we had been anywhere else in the Forest, that colour would have been everywhere, being given off by magical animals, birds and insects, as well as plants, trees, and fungi.”

  Hermione spoke, her severe tone contrasting poorly with the dazzling Specs. “Harry, you’re not telling us something. If protective spells show the colour, why has no one ever seen it before?” She stopped. “Unless it’s a M.O.M. Secret, in which case, I withdraw the question.”

  Harry scratched his head, looking a little sheepish. “Not really a secret, per se. The protective spells were interacting with..., something else. Something I thought might make them portable, without having to continually cast...”

  Hermione’s severe look was intensifying. Harry gave up. “Everybody, Specs off. Hagrid, go get it, please.”

  Hagrid went to the back of the dais, behind an arras that concealed the door to a small room. He soon reappeared, holding up...

  Hermione was the first, (though not the last), to gasp. “Is that...?” she asked, pointing a quivering finger.

  “Yeah,” Harry said. “Gubraithian Fire.” The intake of breath throughout the Hall had an almost physical presence.

  “No,” said Hermione. “I mean, yes, of course, but no. Is that...?” She pointed specifically at what the Fire was mounted on.

  “Huh?” Harry followed the direction her finger was pointing. “Oh, yeah. Yes, it is. Mad-Eye Moody’s old peg leg.” Noticing her look of horror, he said testily, “His spare one, of course. We never recovered his original.”

  Continuing to ignore her, he went on to the assembly. “I thought after we’re done here, we could mount it on a memorial plinth, and set it to guard Dumbledore’s Tomb. I think they both would like that.” He noticed Hermione was still staring at him, open-mouthed. “What?” he said.

  Any possible response Hermione may have made was forestalled by a loud WHOOP! from Ron.

  “He would bloody LOVE it!” he crowed. “That would put a smile on his ugly old face!” He snatched up his mug. “A TOAST! To Mad-Eye Moody laughing his arse off, wherever he is out there!”

  “MAD-EYE MOODY!” the crowd roared, and drank. New pitchers were appearing on the table, as the house elves kept up with the intake.

  Hagrid came up beside the still-aghast Hermione, still holding the peg-leg torch. He patted her back as gently as he knew how, (she only swayed like a palm, instead of being completely thrown down).

  “He would, yer know, Hermione,” he said gravely. “He’d be drinkin’ right ‘longside us, if ‘e c’ld.”

  Her mouth closed, and, after a minute, she gave a wry smile. “He bloody well would, wouldn’t he?”

  She raised her mug and touched it to Hagrid’s tankard. They drank.

  ***

  The Inscription on Mad-Eye Moody's Cenotaph:

  In Proud Memory of

  Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody

  Died: 27 July 1997

  Considered by Many to be the Most Famous Auror of All Time.

  A Pivotal Member of the Order of the Phoenix.

  Veteran of the First and Second Wizarding Wars.

  Lost His Life During 'The Battle of the Seven Potters'

  Foully Murdered at the Hands of Tom Riddle.