The Lewis House 17 страница

It made Sirius sick.

Tonight, a full moon would rise, and Remus would be subject to it, as he always was – only this time it would be worse. Sirius couldn’t even begin to calculate how much worse. Remus might transform fully, in that tiny little shed, and if he did, there was no telling what he’d do to himself. At least when he’d been a child in the Shrieking Shack, there had been rooms to tear up and furniture to smash. Sirius looked from Remus’s bowed head to the slanted metal structure in the corner of the garden, studying its locks and bolts. Remus hadn’t been forced to transform there since his schooldays. He was a grown man now. He’d tear himself apart.

But he was really going to do this. Sirius clenched his teeth in anger. Remus was supposed to be the thoughtful one. Studious and quiet. Precautionary. Or so everyone at Hogwarts had assumed, anyway – it had been impossible not to trust his soft, flecked eyes, and thin, professorial stature. He had the sort of face that made people want to listen and reflect, and his unassuming self-possession had been an essential element of all successful Marauder operations. Sirius had created loud diversions, James had played innocent, Peter had been legitimately clueless, Lily had scolded – all while Remus had slipped away to do the real damage.

Sirius leaned his forehead on the window and watched Remus now, wishing... everything. Wishing he hadn’t ruined their lives, first of all – everything that was terrible resulted directly from his own stupidity, and he would never, ever be free of that. He wished again and again, with an agonizing futility, that he had been the Secret Keeper. Then Lily and James would be alive, and Harry would be with them – then he and Remus wouldn’t be a makeshift parenting unit for his godson and his godson’s friends – then Ginny wouldn’t even be here, making a complicated element of their lives even more painful.

Ginny had no idea what this was going to be like. She thought she did – she thought she’d seen everything. Sirius laughed bitterly to himself. He remembered thinking the same thing, at her age. He granted that she had seen more, at seventeen, than he had been exposed to, but she was still behaving with teenaged recklessness, as if all things were immortal. She was treating Remus’s condition as if it was something to be experimented with. Of course, it was easy for her; she had never seen Remus come back to his human state, bleeding and gasping and sobbing. She had never seen his eyes in the moments before transformation, vacant and full of self-hatred all at once. She had never seen him shake and stumble like a toddler getting his legs, something terribly painful to watch in a fully-grown man.

She’ll know tonight. Sirius tried to banish the thought, but he couldn’t. He wanted very much to have faith in Ginny’s ability; now that the potion had been administered, he hoped nothing more than that it would work. But he simply didn’t see how it could, and he wanted to throttle her for going about her business so matter-of-factly, as if she were working toward a given result. She had shown no concern for Remus’s well-being, no fear that she might fail. She had been willful and obstinate and very cutting, whenever Sirius had suggested to her that the consequences of this procedure were far greater than she had considered. And seven days ago, despite his protestations and many angry words, she had handed a goblet full of steaming grey liquid to Remus, who had taken it without a murmur.

It was Remus with whom Sirius was most angry. Ginny was acting her age. Remus should have known better. He should have known, at the very least, to take Sirius’s concerns into consideration – instead, he had brushed off all fears and concerns with light words and thin smiles. He had spent the past week gardening and marking up case files, saying nothing about the anguish that tonight might bring. Sirius had begged him to think again, before taking the first dose, but Remus had only laughed mildly, in his way, and reminded Sirius that it was his own business what he chose to do about the wolf, and no one else’s.

Those words had wounded. Deeply. Sirius had considered the wolf to be his business ever since he had discovered Remus’s lycanthropy at age eleven, at which point he had made the study of Animagi his entire extracurricular life. James had helped, of course, but James had Quidditch to think of, and Lily to go after. Peter had assisted as a lackey would: fetching books and jotting down notes. It had been Sirius, studying and thinking and experimenting and failing, who had ultimately conquered the process. It had been Sirius who had transformed, first, into the enormous, bear-like dog who bore the closest responsibility for corralling the wolf. It had also been Sirius who had spent the bulk of his time for twelve miserable years as Padfoot, remembering Moony. Remembering the smell of his animal companion, and whining for him.

But apparently Remus believed that a person who could spend his entire childhood working to protect him and his entire adulthood pining to be with him, should then be capable of turning his back and allowing the wolf to be his business. Apparently Remus didn’t care if he ripped himself into pieces that Sirius would have to witness. As he had witnessed the last of Lily. And James. And Peter.

Sirius turned away from the window and looked down at the parchment in his hands. He had only one element of control left over the situation, and he would have to use it – he didn’t want to bring more pain into this than there already was, but he had promised Bill that he would let him know, if Ginny carried through with the Wolfsbane Potion. In truth he hadn’t said another word to Bill – he cursed himself for letting the information slip in the first place. But they would owe the Weasleys some sort of protection for Ginny, from the consequences of Remus’s decision. Not that Ginny could be spared the grief, if anything should happen to Remus tonight.

Nor should she be.

Sirius gripped the parchment, steeled himself, and went for the stairs.

~*~

Ginny mopped off her forehead and stared into the cauldron, where a thick, grey mixture simmered and foamed. The full moon would rise tonight, and, in several minutes, she would administer the last of the Wolfsbane Potion to Remus.

Haven’t killed him yet, she thought grimly, praying that this remaining dose would be as harmless as the others had been. Of course, just because the potion was harmless didn’t mean that it was going to work. It was entirely possible that the potion was useless, as well. But she was trying hard not to think about that. Carefully – very carefully – she leaned over the cauldron and inserted a stirring rod, which had been specially treated with a charm so that it wouldn’t cause any chemical interference. She stirred in wide, counterclockwise circles. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Remove rod," she muttered to herself, pulling it out and wiping it on her robes. "Wait for bubbling to begin."

In seconds, large, wartlike bubbles surfaced in the cauldron and began to pop, splashing her skin. Ginny quickly daubed the potion from her face and arms, and continued muttering.

"Bubbles will settle within three minutes’ time, and a foam will rise."

She watched it happen, her heart pounding. It was strange, the way it seemed to be working. She’d never been above average, in Potions class, and she’d never been so invested in the outcome of a bunch of ingredients. Hermione had helped her all week – hovering over her shoulder and offering advice on the proper methods of skinning needleberries and measuring shredded flesh. Of course, this was after she’d got over the shock of what Ginny was proposing to try – her face, when Ginny had confessed her intentions, had been priceless. Hermione had looked positively terrified, yet her eyes had lit with the thrill of a new, academic challenge. She’d put herself to work immediately, boiling the sheep’s brain for Ginny, who had admitted she didn’t know how.

"When the foam rises, allow it to settle for precisely ninety seconds. Then dip a three-quarter sized, pure-silver ladle into the potion, empty contents into goblet, and serve dose to the werewolf in question."

Ron had got her the ladle. He’d stared at her as though she’d gone mad, of course, when she’d explained what she was doing in the study, on the first day. He told her not to do it – said that she was going to get herself in a lot of trouble, trying something this dangerous. But when Hermione had run into the study in a panic, to report that they were going to need the ladle in less than an hour and Remus didn’t keep any silver Potions tools in the house, it had been Ron who’d sprinted down to the apothecary. He’d spent half his paycheck, securing just the right one, then sprinted back and presented it to Ginny with a dubious look on his face, and a skeptical shake of his head. She hadn’t minded. She knew he had faith in her, or he wouldn’t have bothered going out of his way.

Ginny checked her watch. "Eighty-eight... eighty-nine..." she poised the ladle, waited a beat, then dipped it into the cauldron with confidence and withdrew a level dose of Wolfsbane Potion. Quickly, she emptied it into Remus’s goblet, and observed. "Steam will rise," she said to herself. She had memorized every step of this process. It had become almost natural. "It should smell slightly of rot."

"And it does," said a warm voice, at her back.

Harry. She’d forgot that it was Saturday and he wasn’t at practice. Ginny turned around, goblet in hand, to see him looking at her with open admiration. It was the way he’d been looking at her all week. She still couldn’t handle it.

"Would you mind letting Remus know it’s done?" she asked him quickly. "I think he’s in the garden, and I want him to take it right away, but I don’t want to leave it alone. Just to be safe."

"Sure." He smiled, making Ginny’s heart kick, before he left the study. Harry had been... rather at her service, these past two weeks. He’d managed to get in touch with Bill, yet not give away her secret. He had refused to let her pay him back for the things that had been delivered. He’d checked in with her first thing, after every Quidditch practice, and he’d actually sat with her in the study last night, when she’d been unwilling to leave the cauldron and visit the pub with the rest of them. He’d even let her vent her fears, a little. He hadn’t answered – just listened – and she had found herself telling him things she’d never imagined telling Harry. Things about being the youngest and being treated like a child. Things about wanting to be trusted, yet knowing that if the potion failed, she would lose everyone’s trust. Harry hadn’t laughed once.

"What are you doing with that?"

Ginny turned to the door so fast that she nearly spilled the potion. Sirius stood in the doorway, all in black, mercilessly watching her every move. He looked at the precarious contents of the goblet, and snorted softly with contempt.

"I’m waiting for Remus," she answered shortly, putting the goblet carefully on the desk and moving away from it. She wasn’t about to let Sirius ruin everything, at the last minute.

"He hasn’t taken it?" Sirius crossed his arms and fixed his eyes meaningfully on the clock in the corner of the room.

Ginny stiffened. "Harry is getting him," she said loftily. "And I think you’re aware that he can take the dose at any time up until three o’clock. But perhaps you think it’ll take him two hours to travel inside, from the garden?"

Sirius looked at her coldly. "What a time for jokes. I can see just how seriously you’re taking this."

Ginny wanted to retort, but there was nothing to say. He was wrong, and he knew it. She had dedicated herself completely to the success of this potion – she had treated it with all the gravity it deserved – while Sirius had done nothing but needle and provoke her. She’d slept in the study. She’d eaten in the study. She was probably making herself sick, but Sirius didn’t care. And Ginny understood that his depreciating treatment of her was motivated by a desperate concern for his best friend, but she hated it and refused to accept it.

"Anything else to say?" she asked briskly, turning back to her cauldron, and polishing off her ladle, taking care not to knock the goblet. She heard Sirius enter the room, and the sound of squeaking leather told her he had taken a seat.

"Several things. I’ll say them to you both."

"Fine." Ginny put the ladle down and began polishing the stirring rod. She lay it down beside the other tools, then moved to put out the fire beneath the still-simmering potion.

"And you’re just going to leave that ladle out, when he comes in?" asked Sirius, condescendingly.

"It isn’t going to hurt him, it’s not going anywhere near him, and it’s used with this potion for a very specific reason, Sirius," Ginny snapped, turning around. "You know that. Silver, to werewolves –"

"I am quite familiar with the details of lycanthropy," he said pointedly, his eyes very unfriendly.

"Yes, that’s certainly true." Remus stood in the doorway, with Harry just behind him. His voice was even and his face quite neutral as he looked from Sirius to Ginny. "Ready?" he said to her.

She nodded, grateful that at least one adult in her life had some measure of trust in her. Remus had never appeared nervous about this experiment for a moment, and that held true now, as he stepped up and took the goblet in his hands. He smelled the steam, and made a face.

"Well, if smell is anything to go by, Ginny, then this is going to work out just fine." He drank the entire contents of the goblet as quickly as he could, with his face screwed up in disgust. "Tastes perfect, too," he said hoarsely, putting the cup down gently on the desk and smiling at Ginny. He dug a peppermint imp out of his pocket and quickly put it in his mouth. "And that ends the worst bit of it, for another month."

Sirius swore, very quietly, under his breath.

Remus faced him. "I’m not worried," he said quietly. "At this point, there’s no use in being worried. It either works or it doesn’t. I think it will."

Ginny felt a rush of gratitude toward her teacher and could hardly hold herself back from hugging him right there on the spot.

Sirius ignored him. "I have a little something for you," he said ominously, then reached into his robes and pulled out a flattened roll of parchment, which he thrust at Remus.

Remus unrolled and read the parchment. His hands began to shake immediately, and Ginny moved toward him, curious and afraid.

"What is it?" she asked, reaching out for it. Remus shook his head, but put it in her hands at once, and she read the scroll for herself.

I, Remus Lupin, hereby declare myself solely responsible for any physical or financial damage that should occur as the result of imbibing an amateur Wolfsbane Potion. Virginia Weasley bears no responsibility for this potion’s failure to sedate me, during the hours of the full moon. I will answer to any crimes I have committed as a werewolf, when I have fully returned to my human state. Furthermore, Virginia Weasley bears no responsibility for my own life, should this potion prove to contain a fatal overdose of wolfsbane, or any other ingredient. Virginia Weasley is also hereby absolved of responsibility, should I take my own life during the hours of the full moon. I enter into this contract willingly, and have been informed of all possible aftereffects. I am aware that this is an illegal action, and I will bear all consequences accordingly.

Signed: _____________________ Dated: _______

Ginny let go of the scroll with one hand, and it rolled up loosely, on its own. She was suddenly so afraid that she could hardly see straight, but she turned to Remus and found her voice.

"You can’t sign this," she said weakly. "Don’t sign this. I don’t want you – "

"Hurt?" Sirius interrupted, his voice hard. "Endangered? Involved in an illegal activity? It’s a little late to think of those things. He has to sign that contract. Your brother is concerned about you, and I think we owe your family a measure of protection for you, since we are acting as your guardians."

"My... brother?" Ginny looked at Sirius, confused. "Ron told you to do this?" She couldn’t believe it. He’d seemed so supportive.

"Here, let me see." Harry had stayed very quiet, but now he was right beside her, tugging the scroll out of her hand.

"Your brother Bill," Sirius replied, "who very barely consented to allow this to continue without informing your parents."

Ginny blanched and looked at Harry, who was frowning gravely at the contract. "But you... Harry, I thought you didn’t tell Bill what the ingredients were for."

He met her eyes at once. "Of course I didn’t," he answered simply.

"I did." Sirius stood up and addressed Remus, who was staring at him incredulously. "After a meeting at the Ministry, the other day, Bill mentioned that Harry had asked him to send some interesting ingredients here, from Knockturn Alley."

"And you thought it was wise," Remus said faintly, "to tell him what they were for?"

"No less wise than sending for the ingredients in the first place." Sirius gave Harry a piercing look, and returned his gaze to Remus. "He was concerned about Ginny’s liability – not surprisingly. I was concerned about your health. I told him to give me a chance to talk you out of it before he involved the Weasleys. Of course, that didn’t work."

"You went and told on me to Bill?" Ginny fumed, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Sirius, did it ever occur to you that I’m seventeen, and of age, and willing to take responsibility for myself?"

Sirius ignored her and spoke to Remus. "Go ahead and sign it. I think you know it’s necessary."

Remus still looked shocked, but he held out his hand to take the parchment from Harry, and walked to his desk.

"Don’t put your name on that," Ginny said earnestly, following him and putting her hand over the inkbottle. "I’d rather be the one in trouble – this was my idea."

Remus looked at her and shook his head. "It’s my risk," he said, then had to clear his throat and start again, because his voice was so dry that the words hadn’t quite come out. "This is my risk," he repeated. "I’m glad someone thought of this, actually – though I very much doubt that it will be necessary." He gently took her hand from the inkbottle and dipped his quill, then signed the contract with a neat, firm hand.

When the ink had dried, he rolled up the parchment and handed it to Ginny.

"You keep this, in case of an emergency." Remus’s tone was very normal. Very controlled. But Ginny felt a very tense and palpable heat, coming from his body, as he stepped around the desk and crossed to the door, motioning for Sirius to follow him. "I’m going to make tea," he said curtly. "Why don’t you join me."

It wasn’t a question, and Remus didn’t stay to hear the answer. After shooting another hostile glance at Ginny, Sirius left the room as well.

Ginny wanted to curl up the armchair and cry. Better yet, she wanted to throw something. This potion had caused far more anger and pain than she’d anticipated, and the moon hadn’t even risen yet. If anything went wrong... She couldn’t bear to think about it.

Swiping at her eyes with one hand, she pulled her wand with the other and began furiously to clean up after herself. The cauldron spun out of the fireplace and clanked to the floor at her feet. She dried up the remainder of its contents and Summoned her tools, letting them fall with a bang into the iron belly where there had just been Wolfsbane Potion. Or what she hoped had been Wolfsbane Potion. She didn’t know.

"Want help?"

Ginny jumped. She had honestly forgot that Harry was there. He stood by the desk, looking grave and worried.

"Yes," she answered honestly. "But it’s nothing you can help with."

"Why, what is it?" Harry said, glancing at the cauldron as if it wouldn’t be all that difficult to float the thing upstairs.

"It’s the potion – I shouldn’t have done it – I want Remus to be all right and I don’t want Sirius to hate me." The words tumbled out of Ginny before she could stop them, and she felt herself begin to cry. She gritted her teeth against the tears, but they got through anyway, and she rubbed them from her face fiercely, hating herself for being such a baby.

Harry watched her edgily, seeming a bit panicked. "Sirius doesn’t hate you," he finally said.

Ginny laughed, though it sounded more like crying. "Oh, right, that’s why he’s stalked me all over the house, and given me horrible looks, and told my brother what I’m doing." She shook her head. "Maybe he’s just worried about Remus – but so am I – and he just thinks I’m irresponsible and careless. Damn it." She put down her wand and put both hands over her face, wishing she had a tissue. The truth was that, aside from her fears about Remus, it was unbelievably painful to know how poorly Sirius thought of her, right now. His opinion mattered to her, very much. He headed the Order of the Phoenix, he was one of her father’s trusted friends – and he was Harry’s godfather.

"He doesn’t hate you," Harry repeated. But this time his voice was very close.

Ginny looked through her fingers and found herself eye to eye with him. He held out something white.

"What’s this?" she sniffled, taking it quickly and blinking in surprise. "You carry a handkerchief?" she asked, hiding a smile at the old-fashioned gesture.

"Not really." Harry reddened slightly. "I was carrying it around because I ripped up my ankle yesterday. Bad landing. Figured I should have something on me in case it started bleeding again – don’t worry, I didn’t use it yet," he said quickly.

Ginny wiped her eyes, then turned away and blew her nose a little. "I wasn’t worried," she managed, putting the handkerchief in her pocket, to wash. "Thank you, Harry." She turned around again. He was still right there, looking strangely awkward.

"You’re welcome," he said, then tentatively reached up his hand and briefly touched the side of her face.

Whether he was wiping away a stray tear, or merely touching her, Ginny didn’t know. She stared at him, feeling his fingertips move slightly, then leave her skin. She wished they wouldn’t. She had an urge to lean forward and keep them there. Being touched like that by Harry, even very briefly, left her with an empty, wanting feeling.

"It’ll work," he said simply, pushing up his glasses with the hand he’d just used to touch her. "I’m going to go and practice on my own, but I’ll be back before the moon comes up. Will you be okay?"

Ginny nodded wordlessly, and watched him go, her stomach clenching like a cold, metal fist, at the mention of moonrise. It was nearly two o’clock. Moonrise wouldn’t happen for hours. There was a tightness in her chest that she couldn’t escape, and, now that Harry was gone, she suddenly registered the sounds of very angry male voices, coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Not wanting to hear Sirius and Remus fight about the same thing, all over again, Ginny quickly floated her cauldron upstairs and shut her bedroom door. She sent the cauldron into its corner with a loud bang.

Hermione, who was lying on her bed reading, sat up. "I heard fighting," she said gently.

Ginny didn’t answer. She leaned back against the door, not sure where to go, positive that she would cry again, if she opened her mouth. Or else throw up, from nerves. She pressed her lips together and felt her forehead wrinkle up and her eyes squeeze shut. She was going to sob at any second. "If it doesn’t work – " was all she managed.

In an instant, Hermione was hugging her and saying soothing things, and Ginny allowed herself to be guided back to bed for awhile. After all, there was nowhere she had to be, and no potion she had to brew.

There was nothing to do now, but wait.

~*~

On the way home from his self-imposed Quidditch practice, Harry met up with Ron, who had left the pub early, to be present for the transformation. Harry told him right away about the contract that Sirius had drawn up.

"Good," Ron said at once. "I mean, no offense to Remus – I know it isn’t his fault he’s a werewolf. But Ginny could get arrested for messing around with stuff like this, if anything bad happens, and if Sirius isn’t going to keep Bill up to date, then the contract’s not a bad idea." Ron looked very uneasy. "Just in case."

Harry felt nauseated. If that contract turned out to be necessary, it would mean that one of them had been hurt, or that Remus had badly injured himself. He couldn’t stand to think about that happening. Moreover, he couldn’t stand to think about how Ginny would feel. He knew too much about guilt to wish it on anyone else.

"It’s going to work, isn’t it?" Ron asked anxiously. "You watched her make most of it – it’s fine, right?"

Harry didn’t answer. He didn’t know if it was going to work, but Ginny was feeling lousy enough without everybody adding new doubts into the mix. He looked at the sky, which was full of fiery clouds that made his stomach clench. The sun was setting. "C’mon," he said, and he and Ron hurried toward Lupin Lodge.

They dropped their things in the hallway and continued quickly to the back of the house, where Hermione was sitting in the sunroom with her knees pulled up under her chin, looking worried and quiet. Ron sat next to her at once and put a protective arm around her.

"What’s happened? Anything?"

Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder. "Sirius is putting Remus in the shed," she said faintly. "It’s awful."

Harry went for the door at once, needing to see Remus before he got locked up.

"No, Harry, don’t – it’s bad enough without everyone crowding, and Remus said he’d rather we stayed in – " Hermione called after him.

Not heeding her, he pushed out the door and strode into the back yard – then stopped. Across the patches of growing things, in the far corner of the garden, was a tableau he wasn’t keen to interrupt. Remus was speaking to Ginny in low tones, and she was listening avidly, nodding every so often. Her hair lit up like a torch under the setting sun, making her appear especially strong. But otherwise she just looked frightened – her face was very white and Harry thought he could see her fingers trembling. When Remus finished speaking, he put out his hand, as if to shake hers, but Ginny ignored it and threw her arms around him. He looked startled, but briefly hugged her back.

Sirius stood beside the shed, watching them, anger evident in his features. He shook his head slowly from side to side, his eyes dark and furious, the angles in his face sharper than usual.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04