Care of Magical Creatures

Remus felt a bit odd knocking on the door of his own study. But if he had learned anything in his years as a teacher, it was that when the students wanted to be taken seriously, they should be. Ginny had approached him in the garden earlier that day and asked if he would meet her in the study after dinner. She'd looked preoccupied and tired, and whatever she wanted, Remus knew that to her, at least, it was very important.

Besides, Ginny had been acting strangely around him all week and he was curious to find out why. His students had always been comfortable around him, and the same had been true with Ginny until recently. During the last two weeks, she’d seemed to be almost afraid of him, and he'd noticed that she had taken to spending a lot of time up in her room. He’d tried not to let it bother him, but it obviously had; he’d been relieved when she had come to talk to him – relieved that she didn’t fear him. He wondered if he would ever get over the insecurities of being a classified "beast". Even after years of acceptance by his Marauder fellows, he still doubted everyone else’s capacity for tolerance.

"Ginny?" he called, and knocked on the door once more. He wondered if perhaps she had put their appointment aside in lieu of something more exciting. She and Harry had been poring over a package that had arrived earlier in the afternoon, talking in very low voices, and Remus hadn’t been able to help noticing how close they had been sitting. Nor had he missed the look on Ginny’s face when Harry had shot her a smile on his way out the door to visit Ron at the pub. It had been a trusting, encouraging sort of smile. It had reminded Remus very much of James, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had caused Ginny to forget their meeting.

But the appointment hadn’t been forgotten. Remus nearly jumped backwards as the study door was flung open. Ginny stood in the middle of the doorway, blocking his view of the room. She wore her black school robes with the sleeves rolled up, as if she had come ready to work, and her hair was pulled out of her face, giving her an air of professionalism. Her face was flushed. When she spoke, it was with serious urgency, though her voice shook.

"Can you sit down?" she asked. She stepped aside and let him in. "Would you mind sitting down? This will take a few minutes – I have a lot to show you and you’re probably not going to like it."

Remus was startled, but he tried not to betray it as he took a seat, wondering what on earth she could possibly have to show him, and hoping that she was quite all right. He looked up at her, questioningly.

"Okay," she said, almost to herself. "I can do this – and Remus, please – no, never mind. Okay."

She was behaving very oddly. Feeling concerned now, as well as curious, Remus watched narrowly as Ginny raised her wand and brought out, from behind the study desk, an enormous cauldron. It was full to the brim with what looked to be potion ingredients, and though Remus could identify very few of them without actually examining them closely, he knew that she must be making something very complicated. He pulled his brows together, wondering if she was going to enlist his help on some sort of project. He thought wryly that he ought to inform her that he hadn’t been much of a success in Potions, but decided to wait and hear her out.

"What’s all this?" he asked, as neutrally as he could.

Ginny didn’t answer for a moment. She searched his face, and as she did so, Remus noticed that her skin was terribly pale, and almost clammy. She looked ill. He eyed the cauldron with new worry. Maybe she was attempting to make a medicinal potion of some kind – maybe she was sick. What would he tell Arthur?

Before he could ask her what the matter was, Ginny held out her hands to stop him from talking. She drew an enormous, audible breath, clasped her fingers together and unclasped them again, looking feverishly overexcited.

"I know you’re going to tell me this is none of my business," she began, in a rush, "and you’re right, it isn’t. But I can’t help it, I’ve been working on this for weeks and I can’t stop – I feel sick if I don’t work on it – please don’t be angry with me, when I tell you." She stopped for another breath and looked at him, as if afraid to continue.

Remus was now on alert. He moved to the edge of his seat, nearing the end of his patience. Was she doing something illegal? Was she in some kind of trouble?

"Ginny," he asked gravely, "what’s happening? Whatever it is, you need to tell me."

She nodded and swallowed, hard. Then she pulled a piece of rolled up parchment out of her pocket and handed it to him, then stepped well back and watched him, her eyes bright and almost defiant. She looked like she might come out of her skin if he didn’t read the parchment right away, and so Remus unrolled it, feeling terribly anxious and having absolutely no idea what to expect. He braced himself for the worst, held the scroll open with both hands, and glanced down at its title.

Wolfsbane Potion

Recipe and Brewing Instructions

Tension rose up immediately in his blood, and Remus gave a dry, rasping sort of breath as he scanned the recipe, looking at the all-too-familiar list of sickening ingredients. Sheep’s brains, to effect a docile state. Scales of the middle head of a Runespoor, to induce a dreamlike stupor. Wolfsbane, to poison him just enough that he would be too weak to claw and snarl. Shredded human skin, to satiate the wolf’s terrible craving for flesh.

Remus shuddered, hating himself again, for reasons he would never be able to control. He continued to stare at the parchment, not really seeing it, remembering dimly that Ginny Weasley had handed it to him. He couldn’t begin to understand why she would write out such a thing and he found that he didn’t want to look up at her. It was one thing for Ginny to ask him about being a werewolf. Her curiosity was natural and inoffensive. It was entirely another for her to involve herself in the intimacies of the processes he was forced to go through. This was not an experience he wished to share, in all its morbid details. Only his most trusted friends had ever been near him, at his terrible moments of transformation. Only Sirius was allowed to broach this subject with him now.

"Why..." he began, forcing himself to look up, though he wasn’t sure what to say. He was too unsettled to make sense of his thoughts, which were somewhere between anger and self-disgust. "Where did you..."

"I got it from your book," Ginny confessed, looking very guilty. "The silver one you keep hidden behind your dad’s old classics. I went through your things. I’m so sorry, Remus, I know I should’ve asked, but I was afraid you’d tell me I wasn’t allowed near it, and I had to find out about this recipe – I’ve been feeling very strange things whenever you come around me, and I think it’s because you’re a werewolf."

Remus flinched, and Ginny shook her head quickly, her eyes wide.

"No! I don’t mean it in a bad way – I don't care about that, I'm not afraid of you, but I think... I think I feel what you're feeling." She looked to be casting around for words. "I... don't know how to explain it. I don’t know how I know. But my blood feels like it’s moving faster. The full moon's in two weeks and I swear, this gets worse as we get nearer to it."

Attempting to stay calm and organize his thoughts, Remus put his hands on the arms of his chair, and held on. "What gets worse?" he asked faintly, positive that his fears were irrational but unable to get rid of them, nonetheless. He remembered the first full moon’s approach, after he had been bitten. He’d only been a child. There had been an agitated sickness, a sweaty and frightened anticipation, and a physical sensation in every pore as if the tides were turning his blood over in his veins. It had approached without mercy, and he had been unable to stop it. His parents had tried to explain to him what was coming; they had understood what the bite-marks meant and had worked to prepare him. Even now, Remus wanted to laugh at the futility of their efforts. The wolf still came every month, and each time, he was still caught entirely unprepared.

Ginny couldn’t possibly be experiencing that. He wouldn’t allow it, and in any case, they would have known if she’d been bitten.

She was safe from that hell. Still, she looked confused, and frustrated, as she attempted to answer his question.

"My stomach feels jumpy. My... skin. It's like, you come in to a room, and I feel all agitated. I can tell if you’ve come in, even if I don’t hear you. It’s the weirdest... And I didn't know why, but then suddenly last week I found myself digging through Hermione's books, looking for the Wolfsbane Potion recipe, and as soon as I looked for it, I felt better. It calmed me down. So I kept working. I just knew I had to keep working, and I can’t explain it any better than that. It’s like... remember the way I knew those seeds were dead?" Ginny clapped her hands together. "It’s exactly like that! I just – know."

Remus looked at her sharply, remembering full well the way in which she had separated the dead seeds from the live ones in the garden. He’d thought, at that moment, that she might be exhibiting signs of a very rare magic. Her sudden drive to work with medicinal potions was certainly another possible sign... but he shook off the thought as quickly as he could. She wasn’t exhibiting anything. It was far more likely that she was merely coping with the end of the war and the death of her brother. Everyone was dealing with the aftermath in personal ways, and if Ginny was choosing to throw herself into complicated recipes and forbidden books, then that was perfectly understandable. Remus admitted to himself that it didn’t seem terribly like Ginny – but then perhaps he didn’t know her very well.

"So you looked until you found the recipe?" he prompted, watching her carefully.

"Yes, and when I found it, I started gathering up what I needed. It’s taken me awhile, but now I’ve got everything," she declared, a note of pride creeping into her voice.

Remus blinked. "What do you mean, you’ve got everything?" He felt an odd fear nagging at his brain, and he refused to fully comprehend what she was saying. She couldn’t actually be considering... because that was unacceptable. "Everything for what?"

"The Wolfsbane Potion." Ginny said matter-of-factly. She seemed less nervous, now, as she turned to the cauldron and began to unload it, bit by bit, onto the great desk. "I have all the ingredients – well, except for two, but those are perishable."

"All?" Remus had a hard time imagining where she might have got her hands on some of the necessary items.

She looked at him confidently. "All," she affirmed, and proceeded to list the ingredients from beginning to end. Then, gesturing to the parchment that Remus still had pinned under his hand, she began to talk about the brewing process with calm authority.

Remus listened without interruption, his trepidation growing with every word she spoke, though everything out of her mouth was very right. She had clearly done her research; her knowledge of the potion was quite complete, and she must have gone to great lengths to acquire both the information and the materials.

"I’ve read everything I can get my hands on," she said, in closing, "about the advanced methods of ingredient preparation and advanced techniques for long term potion brewing, since this one’s on the fire for a week before it’s ready. And my brother sent me the rare ingredients from Knockturn Alley, just today. As soon as I prepare those, I’ll be completely set up." She looked at him pleadingly, keeping her hands clasped together in front of her. "So... I’d have to start tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow," Remus repeated blankly. He shook his head, still unwilling to make sense of her intentions. "But you don’t want to make the Wolfsbane Potion, Ginny." Even as he said it, he knew that he was wrong, and he gripped the arms of his chair again. From beneath his right hand came the sound of crumpling parchment, but neither he nor Ginny paid any attention to the recipe. Their eyes locked.

"Yes I do," she said quietly, and in her face was a determination Remus recognized. She had looked very much like this on the day that they’d built the Sacrificum Charm in Harry. "I need to try. Please let me – please say that I can have permission to make it."

There was a long silence between them while Remus tried to think of what to say. Normally, he would have hated to disappoint a student, but this was different. She wasn’t his student, any longer, and he couldn’t allow her to administer a self-made Wolfsbane Potion – at best, she would fail and at worst, she’d poison him. Still, she looked desperate for him to say yes – quite as if this was her life or death moment, not his.

But it was simply too high a risk, for both of them. He couldn’t let her do it, and he opened his mouth to tell her so.

"You have my permission," he heard himself say.

Ginny jumped and put a hand to her mouth. "R– really?" she whispered, through her fingers. "Remus, are you sure?"

His mind raced. Was he insane? He was resigning himself to an evening of anguish for the first time in months – transforming into the full-fledged wolf was nothing short of pure hell. Transforming with the aid of the potion was bad enough. It was always bad enough, just knowing that he harbored a sick desire to murder, in some secret, locked-up part of himself. He never again wanted his mind to run mad, at the full moon. It was hard to explain it to regular people, but each time the wolf took him over, it tore out a part of his soul. Intellectually he understood that he was not to blame for the wolf’s urges; in his body, however, and in the darkest parts of his mind, Remus knew what he truly was. He knew – and he had no desire to live the proof of it ever again. Since the discovery of the Wolfsbane Potion, he had promised himself that he would go to any lengths to obtain it, in order to preserve his own sanity. He had trusted Snape when there was no one else to trust. He now endured the humiliation of the apothecary’s habitat and though it made him feel like an animal, at least he was spared the grief of feeling like a killer.

"Remus?" Ginny repeated softly.

He had forgotten she was there, standing before him, waiting for reconfirmation. He looked up and silently studied her, still thinking. If an inexperienced witch like Ginny brewed the potion, he knew that the odds were slim to none that it would be successful. He would be hungry, again. He would be enraged. He would have to be locked in the shed, and he would tear at his own flesh, if he couldn’t get to any other prey. Not to mention that Sirius was going to kill him, when he found out what a foolish risk he was taking. It was lunacy, to take on so much pain, yet his instincts told him to trust her. He blamed it on his willingness to go too far, as a teacher – Ginny had been his student, and now he had the chance to guide her through a unique opportunity. She was showing an interest, and she ought to be encouraged.

"Yes. I’m sure," he finally answered, and though he congratulated himself on being a very liberal professor, Remus knew deep down that this had nothing to do with his teacher’s principles. He had an unfounded faith in Ginny’s ability, which he could not rationalize.

She was staring down at him, apparently still unable to believe what he was saying.

"You said you’d have to start tomorrow?" he asked. He rolled up the recipe parchment and handed it back to her, then gestured to the ingredients on the desk. "What are you still missing?"

Ginny seemed to jerk awake. "I have to go into the village, in the morning, for the wolf’s blood and sheep’s brain." Her voice shook, and Remus wondered if perhaps the gravity of what she had decided to do was catching up with her. She looked at once relieved and frightened.

Remus nodded. "I want you to use the fireplace in here," he instructed. "We need to keep the front room fireplace open for travel and contact, and the kitchen fire is not only too small, but it’s considered very unsafe –"

"To brew medicinal potions openly, in areas where they can contaminate food. I know." Ginny smiled slightly. "Told you I’ve been doing my reading."

"Yes." Remus smiled back at her, briefly, feeling unaccountably hopeful. He wanted her to succeed. He didn’t care if it was irrational and unlikely – he very much wanted this to work. He stood up. "I’ll give you your privacy, if you like. You’re welcome to prepare your materials on the desk, though you’ll have to do a Sanitation Charm first."

"I’ll need to grab my tools. They’re upstairs." Ginny was still staring at him. "You’re really going to let me do this," she said, obviously stunned. "Harry said you would. He said you were that kind of person, and I know you let him learn the Patronus a bit early – and you were the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I ever had – but I wasn’t sure...."

Remus was touched. He had only taught at Hogwarts for one year, yet his students’ faith in him had somehow remained high. "I know you’ll do your best to get it right," he said gently. He wanted to tell her that she had better damn well make sure to get it right, but somehow, that didn’t seem appropriate.

"I will," Ginny swore. "You don’t have to drink it if you think it isn’t right."

"I’ll drink it." Remus stepped closer and surveyed the carefully labeled bottles and bags that Ginny had lined up on the desk. His stomach tightened with fear – and something else. Something he hadn’t felt about the full moon since the days when it had still held a promise of racing through the Forbidden Forest with his Animagi friends. Excitement. "I need to take the first dose seven days prior to the full moon, as I’m sure you already know," he said, in what he hoped was an even tone. "You'll just need to make sure that it’s complete by – "

"Moony! You will NOT believe – "

Ginny spun around so quickly that her ponytail continued to move seconds after she had.

Remus jerked his head toward the door and saw Sirius standing by a bookcase, looking unusually excited about something. He had recently taken to Apparating home in the study rather than in the sunroom in order to deposit his things before seeing anyone else, a point that had slipped Remus's mind earlier in the day when he'd agreed to meet with Ginny. Of course, at the time, he hadn't realized that Ginny would want to talk about something so important.

The almost joyful expression on Sirius's face faded as he took in the scene in the study. "What's going on? Is everything okay?" He looked quickly at Ginny. "Where's Harry? Is Harry – "

"Everything's fine, Sirius," Remus said lightly, attempting a grin. "It's nothing. Harry's in the village with Ron and Hermione. Ginny and I were just having a talk, that's all."

But Sirius had thrown down his enormous briefcase and taken a few steps forward, his gaze now upon the ingredients that were neatly lined up on the desk. Frowning, he picked up a vial containing the scales of a Runespoor, and turned it over slowly in his hand. He returned it to its place among the other containers and pulled out a small paper bag labeled 'Moonstone powder'. He turned slightly pale.

"Interesting ingredients," he said quietly, looking straight at Remus. "Planning on brushing up on your Potions skills?"

"Actually," said Ginny, moving between Sirius and the desk, and forcing him to step back, "I'm the one who's working on a project." She shot Remus a harried look. He was not surprised that she'd picked up on the fact that he'd rather discuss this with Sirius alone.

"Oh?" Sirius asked coolly, crossing his arms. "What kind of project? Must be very advanced if you're planning on using Runespoor scales and Moonstone powder together. As a matter of fact," Sirius's voice was growing lower, "I can only think of one potion in which both of these ingredients are used –" He reached around Ginny, deftly grabbed a small, opaque bottle marked ‘wolfsbane’, and dangled it between two fingers, looking murderous. "What the hell’s going on?" he demanded.

Remus felt his stomach tie itself into a knot, but he managed to give Ginny a nod. "Ginny, why don't you take your things upstairs for tonight? You can set up in here a bit later on." He felt terrible for making her drag the cauldron all the way back upstairs, especially since he had just invited her to use the study as her work space, but he didn't quite trust Sirius's actions if left in the same room with the potion ingredients.

Nodding, Ginny pointed her wand at her materials, which packed themselves quickly into the cauldron. "Accio," she finished calmly, making the little bottle of wolfsbane fly from Sirius’s fingers into her own. Quickly, she floated her cauldron through the door. Remus raised his wand to shut the door after her, but Sirius was now standing inches away from him, his pale-blue eyes narrowed.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Sirius asked in a would-be-calm voice.

Remus lowered his wand and surveyed him without a word, not sure how to approach an explanation without getting a bit explosive, himself. Sirius had always been violent towards people who posed a threat to Remus’s safety, and though Remus understood that Sirius’s overprotection was the result of many years of secrecy and dedicated friendship, it still rankled him that he would now be expected to justify his decision to trust Ginny with the potion. It would be a difficult decision to account for, at the best of times – and Sirius wasn’t at his best, at the moment. On the contrary, he had been spending long hours overworking himself in London and at Culparrat. The briefcase that he’d thrown on the floor upon his arrival was filled with case files. Remus had been spending his own days at home, poring over them, trying to glean any possible information of importance, in an effort to help relieve his workload, but Sirius refused to work at a reasonable pace. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t enlisting help. He was the one who deserved a lecture.

"Ginny has asked my permission to make the Wolfsbane Potion this month," Remus said simply, deciding that straightforward honesty was the quickest way to start and end the unavoidable argument.

Sirius's eyes narrowed even further. "Well, that's not really a good one for her to practice with," he said, slowly and distinctly. "I mean, she won't be able to test it anywhere, will she?"

Remus nodded his head firmly, once.

Sirius's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious," he hissed.

"No, you're Sirius," Remus joked through gritted teeth, walking around the large desk in order to push a large pile of case files towards his friend. It was time to try and change the subject. "These are for you, they've been marked up. There's some really interesting information in there on Simon Flannery. I never would have guessed when we were in school with him."

Sirius would not be sidetracked. Ignoring Remus's comment, he strode over to a bookshelf and, after a moving his finger across the spines of several books, found what he was looking for. He pulled a small, green, barely used book from the shelf, and meaningfully slapped it against his hand.

Remus sighed. The book was called Calming the Wolf: Development of the Wolfsbane Potion, and it detailed the horrors of the first batches that had been used. "I don’t need a reading-to," he said, his voice low. "If you’d like to discuss this, then there are better ways – "

But Sirius opened the book to a random page and began to read aloud. "Early on it was thought that the proportion of dragon's blood to wolfsbane should be three to one. However, when this version of the potion was tested on Ivan Berndt, a German werewolf, he not only transformed at full strength, on the night of the full moon, but he was also rendered fiercer than ever before. Able to break free from his restraints for the first time in his life, he tore out his wife’s throat and ate it, then proceeded to mutilate his children."

Remus felt ill. Those were the things he was capable of. "I am fully aware," he said faintly, "of every story in that book. I am also aware that the old combinations have been removed from the list of ingredients."

Sirius continued to read, with more force. " ‘It was then decided that more wolfsbane should be added, in the hopes that the poison would render a werewolf incapable of attack. The unfortunate result of this experiment was the death of not one, but six werewolves, who bravely volunteered to try potions at different strengths. Even now,’ " and Sirius stressed the word with all the venom in his voice, " ‘though we have reached a successful recipe, if the vital ingredient is not measured with perfect exactness, the Wolfsbane Potion will not only be ineffective, it will be deadly.’"

"Shut that book," Remus said, his voice like iron. "I don’t need to hear that."

Sirius shut the book, but did not let up. "I think you do," he countered, "if you’re going to put your life in the hands of – "

"Unless Ginny's hand slips," Remus felt his voice getting louder as his temper got the better of him, "and she adds an enormous quantity of the wolfsbane itself – which somehow, I doubt she’ll do – all that can happen to me is that I go through one more unregulated transformation."

"All?" Sirius shouted, pushing his wild hair out of his eyes. "Unregulated? I’ve been there with you, Moony – don’t pretend to me that you don’t care if that happens. And just where do you plan on being restrained?"

"The shed."

Sirius looked sick. "This is unbelievable stupidity," he breathed. "I never thought you'd be willing to risk not only your life, but your peace of mind – and mine – in order to boost some little girl's self-esteem."

"I'm not a little girl!"

Over Sirius's head, Remus saw Ginny enter from the hallway. She stood several feet from Sirius, her eyes flashing, but her posture straight. She seemed very tall to Remus.

"And you're not an adult," said Sirius, straightening as well. "You've not even had your seventh year at school and besides, adults don't go eavesdropping and listening in –"

"I was going to close the door! Besides, you were shouting. I could hear you on the stairs."

Sirius crossed his arms, and, using what Remus considered a very patronizing tone of voice, asked, "Where do you plan on getting all of the ingredients? I know the recipe by heart, some of those things – "

Ginny interrupted Sirius again. "Harry helped me," she said shortly. She seemed totally unwilling to justify herself any further, and Remus was glad to see it.

"Oh, well, if Harry's helping you with a potion, I'm sure it will work. He received such excellent marks in that class," Sirius snarled, slamming his fist on the desk. "Do you have any idea what happens if you don't make this potion correctly? Do you have any idea what it's like to turn into a werewolf against your will?"

"Do you?" Ginny shot back.

Remus cleared his throat. Ginny and Sirius turned both turned their attention to him, and he spoke in a clear, steady voice. "I hope neither of you ever discover what that feels like." He glared at Sirius, who still appeared to be livid, and Ginny, who looked hurt and angry, then walked over to the door and gestured through it. "Ginny, if you’re starting the potion in the morning, then I want you to get some sleep. You can start in here as early as you want."

She nodded, and turned to go. But as she stepped into the hallway, Sirius took three long strides to reach her, holding Calming the Wolf: Development of the Wolfsbane Potion in his hand. "Here," he said, shoving it out to her. "It might be educational to read this."

Ginny looked, for a moment, like she might say something horrible. But instead, with the grace and dignity of another redhead that Remus remembered well, Ginny accepted the book from Sirius, thanked him, and left.

This time, Remus made sure to close the door all the way. He locked it with his wand and slowly turned around to continue his discussion with Sirius, who had sunk into the armchair, arms crossed.

"Do you honestly plan to carry out this experiment?" he asked in a tone that made Remus feel for anyone who might be up against Sirius in the courtroom.

"Yes. I’m not endangering anyone. I know the shed’s strong enough to hold me, should anything – unexpected – happen."

Sirius laughed shortly. "Unexpected..." he muttered to himself, then looked up at Remus darkly. "What explanation does she have?" he asked. "Why is she suddenly so interested in something so far over her head?"

Remus said nothing. There was no solid answer.

Sirius waited for a moment. When no reply came, he let out something between a sigh and a growl, and said firmly, "Fine, be an idiot. But Padfoot will be joining you. And don’t try telling me no."

Remus felt a rush of the same warm gratitude he’d got at age eleven, when Sirius had come down from an Astronomy lesson in a rage of discovery, flanked by James and Peter, demanding the truth about Remus’s monthly sickness. Remus had been prone, in bed, recovering from that month’s transformation. After a long and unrelenting interrogation by all three of them, he’d confessed the truth, then rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, dangerously near tears, certain that none of them would speak to him ever again. Never had he been so mistaken – they’d responded with support and protection, rather than fear, and curiosity, rather than revulsion. They’d become his whole life.

And Sirius was all he had left.

Remus looked down at the mop of black hair that meant more to him than he could put into words. Sirius was a good man, if a haunted one, but he was very young still, in many ways. He’d been almost twenty-four when they’d thrown him into Azkaban, and now, at almost forty, he was still as sullen, stubborn, difficult, and moody as he had been in his youth. But he always had Remus’s best interests in mind. Remus knew it. And Moony wanted Padfoot with him during the transformation so badly that he found himself almost looking forward to the full moon.

However, wanting it badly didn’t make it possible. Remus shook his head slowly, hating the words he had to say. "You can't be in there. If things go wrong, it’s too small a space. If I have a... violent night..." He stopped. "If I hurt you, I’d never forgive myself."

Sirius looked up at him with weary eyes, then held up one hand and began ticking off the facts with his fingers.

"So. You are going to do this whether or not I think it's a good idea. You aren't going to let me be in that shed with you. You do want me to just hang around outside and listen to you whining, and howling, and throwing yourself up against the walls, and clawing at steel, and ripping holes in yourself all night long – "

"Or," interrupted Remus, trying not to fear exactly the things that Sirius was mercilessly detailing, "you may hear nothing. We don't know that the potion won't work."

Sirius snorted.

"I mean it," Remus insisted. "She’s very well prepared and I think – well, we just don’t know what will happen."

But Sirius didn’t seem to care. "Don’t do this," he pled. "This is willingly putting yourself in danger. This is ludicrous."

"Ludicrous like you, spending two weeks at Azkaban, rounding up prisoners and getting close to Dementors?" Remus leveled at once, with quiet precision.

"Not the same thing," Sirius protested automatically.

"Why not? You did something you felt you needed to do, regardless of the pain, and I need to do the same thing. It’s a risk, but I need to take it."

Sirius looked at him moodily. "Why?" he asked, flatly.

"Because I haven’t taken a good one in a long time," Remus answered, realizing as he said it, that it was true. "I spent twelve years of my life hating myself, trying to hate you, regretting... " He pulled a chair over to where Sirius was sitting, sat down himself, and leaned forward. "Twelve years is a long time. Unlike you, I had a choice. I could have returned to England and kept an eye on Harry. I could have given Dumbledore potentially helpful information. There were many things that I could have done, but I didn't do them, because I was sick of taking risks and losing everything."

"Fine, Moony. There are lots of things that you can go do now. Plenty of risks you can take that don't involve this," Sirius said, motioning up towards the ceiling, above which the girls' room was located.

"I want to do this. For me, it is worth one restless night if I at least let Ginny give it a go. She's not going to kill me. And if it works... well, think about it. I won’t have to leave every month, and Padfoot can be with me every time. In any case, you're the one who always used to go on and on about how I needed to be more adventurous, remember?" Remus reached out and punched Sirius's leg lightly.

Sirius gave a sort of half-laugh, but it didn't diminish the concern in his eyes. "I'm still not thrilled about this," he muttered.

Remus nodded. They weren’t going to agree, but the argument had come to a close, and he was relieved. He glanced at the case files on the desk, and at Sirius’s overstuffed briefcase that was still on the floor, hoping that perhaps now, he could successfully turn the subject to other matters. "Would you like my help?" he asked, pointing to the files.

Sirius shrugged. "You don’t have to help," he answered, rubbing his eyes.

Those words indicated more clearly than anything else that Sirius was exhausted. Normally he would have refused help entirely, but he was too tired to make pretenses of self-sufficiency.

"I know I don’t," Remus returned, getting up and grabbing the briefcase. "But then, I’m generous."

Sirius opened one eye. "Right," he scoffed. "So generous that you’re trying to give me a heart attack – " But he stopped, when Remus gave him a warning look, and handed him a stack of files.

"You take these and I’ll take the others."

Sirius accepted the files with a nod and opened the first one in his lap, pulling his wand to Summon a quill. Remus did the same thing. Moments later, they were both engrossed in the lives and transgressions of imprisoned, alleged Dark wizards, making notes on the material just as if they were back at Hogwarts, doing their homework. And, just as they had often done in school, the two worked side by side, well into the night, stopping every so often to complain to each other and eat something.

~*~

Bill Weasley had expected his father’s office to be a bit more crowded. He checked his watch, saw that he was five minutes early, and settled himself in the chair next to Alastor Moody’s, rubbing absently at his temple with two fingers.

"Bill," Moody greeted him, gruffly. "Goblins still giving you a headache?"

"No, no," Bill said lightly. "I don’t mind being knocked down, sat on, and interrogated six times a day. Getting to like it, actually."

"You get that from me," said Arthur, looking up from a stack of papers and grinning. "That’s exactly why I married your mother."

There was a rap at the door, and a security officer entered. "Sirius Black," he announced.

"That’s fine, Lawrence," Arthur said. "He’s always cleared."

"I have identification," came Sirius’s irritated voice, from beyond the door. "Get out of the way."

"He’s just doing his job," said a woman’s brisk voice, also outside the door. "Here’s my ID, Lawrence. Secretary Privy to Magical Matters, Rose K. Brown."

"Let her in," Arthur called. "And you can let Charlie and Mick right in, when they get here – no announcement necessary. We’re going to get this one started on time."

"Yes sir." Lawrence shut the door.

Sirius glared at the door, for a moment, before dropping into a seat beside Bill’s.

Rose K. Brown, on the other hand, smiled at all of them from beneath a neat sweep of wavy blonde hair. She sat easily next to Arthur’s desk and adjusted her ID tags and Ministry pin, before opening her tidy-looking briefcase. "We’re missing someone?" she asked shortly, looking at her watch.

Bill fought back a sigh. Rose had been a Slytherin prefect, in Charlie’s class, the same year that Bill had been Head Boy, and she’d eventually become Hogwarts’ Head Girl. She’d been famous as the only trustworthy Slytherin, for though she was as ambitious as any of them, she always played fair. As a result, she’d had good friends in every house, and she’d even frequented the Gryffindor table without fielding any protest. Partly, perhaps, because she looked so deceptively sweet – she had a translucent face, dreamy blue eyes and a soft, feminine voice. But everyone who’d ever crossed her knew better. Rose was such a stickler for rules and regulations that she’d got Bill himself into detention-sized trouble, not once, but four times, during the course of his time at Hogwarts.

"We’re missing my son Charlie and his associate," Arthur replied calmly. "But there’s plenty to discuss, so let’s get start –"

"They’re late?" Rose clicked her tongue. "And this business with dragons was your son’s idea, is that correct?"

Arthur got the patient look on his face that Bill had not seen since long ago dinners with Percy, as he turned to Rose. "Yes, that’s correct. Why don’t you start us off with your concerns about this business, while we wait?"

"The Council’s concerns are with the dragons themselves," Rose countered. "I expected an expert on the subject to be present for this briefing."

"Look, they’ll be here," Bill said tightly. "Let’s get started."

"I wasn’t aware you’d become an employee of the Ministry, Bill," Rose returned, her voice smooth as cream. "And, as a matter of fact, I wonder at this information not being classified, Arthur. It’s no offense to your son, of course, but do you really think it’s wise– "

"He’s a member of the Order," growled Moody, as though this should outrank any Ministry official by a mile. Bill glanced at him appreciatively. It was the great honor of his life, being inducted into the Order of the Phoenix, and he felt the same way that Moody did – Ministry employees or not, they were all working toward rebuilding the wizarding world, and he would offer whatever help he could.

"Bill’s here because he’s got training in curse breaking and finances that we need, at the moment." Arthur shrugged at Rose. "I agree it would be helpful if we had a full staff, but as we don’t, maybe we can make use of Bill, as our Gringotts Liaison."

Rose looked at Bill doubtfully, but nodded. "For now, I suppose that’s fine." She withdrew a clipboard from her briefcase and scanned down a parchment list, with her quill. "Here’s a question unrelated to the physical problems posed by dragons. Regardless of what we decide on that score, shall we create an office specifically dedicated to handling the containment of the Dementors? The Council proposes a PAP – Permanent Azkaban Patrol division, to be separately staffed and funded. Thoughts?"

"Permanent?" Sirius leaned forward on his knees. "Don’t you mean semi-permanent? We’re not going to have to patrol the Dementors forever."

Bill held in a sigh. Sirius was dead set on the total destruction of the Dementors, not just the control of them, and though Bill had to admit he agreed with that plan of attack, he didn’t see a way to make it possible. "I’ve done a lot of work with complex curses and spells that ward off Immortals – like the Sphinxes over in Egypt," he began slowly, "and from what Moody tells me, the Dementors are resistant to magical attacks. We haven’t even come across a curse that does minimal damage. They seem to be unclassified Immortals, or at least to have some kind of natural armor against death."

Sirius’s jaw clenched. "Then we’ll just have to try something else. It’s unacceptable that those... things," he spat out the word, "are alive and capable of Kissing. They were the servants of Voldemort, just like the Death Eaters, and Azkaban isn’t a punishment for them. They need to die."

Bill exchanged a glance with his father, who nodded. "I agree with that," Arthur said, adjusting his glasses and running a hand over his high, bald forehead. "But if we can get a grip on these dragons, I think it’s as good a solution as we have, for now. If you’d rather, we can consider it a semi-permanent solution."

"No, Arthur, that’s not good enough. You know we need to destroy those things entirely – that must be a high priority."

Before anyone else could answer Sirius, Rose spoke up. "Mr. Black is quite right. The costs of keeping dragons for an extended period of time are incredibly high and will be a very heavy tax on Ministry resources. The Council believes that we should find another way to contain the Dementors, until they can be eradicated."

"Eradicated how?" Bill asked, trying not to let his annoyance creep into his voice. "I just told you – "

"That it hasn’t been done does not mean that it can’t be done," Sirius barked, his eyes darkening. "Spells can be built. New curses can be created. It’s our duty to make that happen."

Bill didn’t answer. There was no point in fighting about Dementors with a man who had been imprisoned by them for twelve years. Sirius Black had personal issues at stake in this argument that no one in the office could fully comprehend, and everyone seemed to feel it, because they all remained quiet for a moment and allowed him to regain his composure.

"I propose," said Rose quietly, in the silence, "that we therefore establish two departments. I’d like to maintain that the PAP is a good idea, for now. However, I do suggest a second new division in the Ministry, which would be responsible for researching the extermination of Dementors. Thoughts?"

"I’ll head it up," Sirius said at once. "Let’s get that started."

"Black." Moody turned in his chair and his peg leg scraped the floor. He fixed both eyes on Sirius, and in his gnarled old face there was something like exasperation. "You're mad. You're prosecuting a third of the wizarding community, you've got eighty percent of those Stunned Dark wizards still to research, trials start in a week, you're trying to stand in on meetings about Azkaban, and you want to head up another department, do you?"

"Yes." Sirius didn’t bat an eye.

Neither did Arthur. "No," he said, very firmly. "Rose has certainly given us something to sink our teeth into, and I’d like to look into creating a team responsible for that sort of research, but Sirius, I need you dealing with Culparrat, and that’s the end of it."

"But, Arthur –"

"The end, as in, conversation over." Arthur looked at Rose. "Excellent proposal. You take that back to the Council. I want to hear what they have to say about a division like that, before we plan and implement it."

"Yes, sir."

It was the best that they could do, at present, and Bill knew that Sirius was well aware of it. Still, Sirius looked unhappy as he sank back into his chair, as if he didn’t trust anyone other than himself to be fully dedicated to the destruction of the Dementors. There were bags under his eyes that made him look old and tired, and lines around his mouth that betrayed his anxiety. He looked even worse than usual, and Bill found himself guessing that perhaps Azkaban wasn’t the only thing troubling Sirius. He wondered if the man would have time for a butterbeer after this meeting – he seemed like he could use it.

"And that concludes all business," Rose said, her tone growing disapproving, again, "that is unrelated to dragons. I certainly hope we won’t have to schedule another meeting – "

There was a muffled laugh outside the door, which came open a few inches.

"What, no formal announcement?" came a familiar voice. The speaker was pretending to be outraged. "C’mon, Lawrence, give us the red carpet treatment."

Bill held in a laugh, watching Rose purse her lips at the sound of Charlie’s raucous approach. His brother wasn’t irresponsible, he was merely challenged when it came to time – and he was late with such perfect consistency that it actually was responsible, in a warped sort of way. Or so Charlie had used to explain it to their mother. Bill grinned at his father, whose eyes were twinkling.

"We deserve it," came another voice, which was clearly Mick’s. "We’ve just been toasted by a dragon, the both of us. We’re heroes!"

"The Minister asked me to show you in without announcements," said Lawrence, unmoved. "You’re late. Go on."

"You’re no fun," Charlie complained, and pushed the door open. He came into the Minister’s office, followed by Mick, and Lawrence shut the door after them, looking quite fed up.

"How nice of you to join us, Mr. Weasley," said Rose, too-sweetly, checking her watch. "Perhaps you and your assistant could sit down and we could all discuss the business at hand."

"At your service, Miss Rosie," said Mick, winking suggestively, as he and Charlie took the seats closest to her, both nursing impressive looking burns with enormous swatches of sterile padding.

For a moment, Bill thought that Mick might be getting himself into trouble for harassing the Secretary Privy. But Rose only looked at him as if he were a very small child, then glanced at Charlie. "I don’t believe I know your assistant, Mr. Weasley."

"He’s not my assistant, he’s my associate, and sure you do," said Charlie, smiling at her as if he hadn’t noticed the condescending tone in her voice. "He was in our year. Gryffindor. This is Mick O’Malley."

Bill had a very hard time not laughing out loud at the expression of shock in Rose’s eyes. She did a bang up job of not betraying too much of her surprise, but Bill knew that she had to be feeling it. Mick had been a skinny little class clown at Hogwarts.

But he’d certainly bloomed, if late, and several years of dragon keeping had entirely changed his stature.

"Of course," Rose said evenly. "It’s been a long time, Mr. O’Malley." She redoubled her focus on her clipboard, tapping her quill, and Bill made a mental note to include Sirius and Moody in the joke, later on.

"Right," said Arthur, "let’s move this along. Bring me up to date on the dragon situation, then we’ll hear the Council’s concerns, and then we’ll have to make a decision. Moody, you first."

Moody cleared his throat. "Simple enough. Hardly have enough Aurors to track down any escaped Death Eaters. Can’t be wasting our trainees out on that island, doing Patronus Spells all day and night. They need to be learning other things, and they’re tired. Not to mention that the Dementors are getting more difficult to control."

"Why?" Sirius demanded. "What do you mean?"

Moody gave a growling laugh. "Well, I’m no great theorist, but it seems to me that the more we use the Patronus, the more resistant the Dementors are to it."

"They’re desensitized," Bill muttered. "Yeah, that’s a definite possibility, I’ve seen that with other creatures – too much of the same curse and they’re suddenly immune."

"That’s right. It’s dangerous for my men and women, and it’s dangerous for people on the mainland, if those things stop responding to the Patronus. We don’t have another defense."

"That all makes sense," Rose said, nodding, "but I’d like to know why dragons are the next best choice."

"Well, I’ll tell you." Charlie settled into his chair and smacked his hands on the leather arms as if preparing to give a highly desirable lecture. Which, Bill groaned inwardly, he probably was. "Dragons produce a natural energy that radiates out around them, creating a force field. It’s a lot like the energy of a Patronus – really joyful and all – only even more powerful. So we brought one of our trained flight-dragons over from Romania, to see if it’d stave off the Dementors."

"I rode it out there," Mick continued, "and sure enough, Dementors can’t get within about fifty yards of it before they shoot straight back onto the island." He grinned. "That’s the same power as you get with three trained wizards, out there. You’ve got what, eight Auror trainees around that island at all times?"

Moody nodded. "Two teams – day and night shifts – and two trainees on standby, for emergencies."

"And you’re saying that just three dragon riders would get the same thing accomplished," Rose mused, looking at her list.

"Three’s the best bet," Mick agreed. "We could do it with two, but it’d leave too big a pocket for Dementors to slip through."

Rose glanced at Arthur. "Well, in terms of pure budget, I can’t complain about that. We’d be cutting down from eighteen employees to nine."

"Six," said Mick and Charlie, at the same time.

"Nine," Rose repeated. "Three by day, three by night, three on standby."

Charlie rolled his eyes and put on his best professional demeanor. "Privy Brown, do you really expect all three of the riders to get sick at the same time?"

"Mr. Weasley, if for some reason they do, would you like to be held responsible for the damage that unleashed Dementors will cause?"

Sirius sat up straight. "She’s right. Hire nine riders."

"And we’ll want nine dragons as well," Charlie said. "Three for each shift, and three in case something happens to the others."

"What can happen to a dragon?" asked Rose, seeming far less concerned about the prospect of three enormous beasts all getting ill at once.

Charlie looked a bit affronted. "Lots," he informed her. "Pregnancy, sickness, you never know. We don't like to fly them unless they're in peak condition; they're only partly tamed. They'll kill you if they're in a foul mood." He grinned. "Next question?"

"Do you have nine trained flight dragons?"

"Yeah," Mick replied. "We had about twenty trained for the war, all Common Welsh, so we'll bring out eight to add to the one we've been testing with."

"Fine. We won’t have to salary them, but I imagine the keeping costs are going to be rather large?" She looked at Charlie, as if hoping he’d say no.

"We’re going to need to build a typical dragon enclosure, on the mainland," Charlie answered. "Staffed like the one in Romania – but smaller. Nine dragons, thirty keepers."

"Thirty!"

"That’s keeping it minimal," Charlie laughed. "Sorry to blow up your budget."

Rose shook her head, looking as though she might be about to wail. "Oh, this is so far out of our reach, Arthur, we can’t afford to do this. And the Council is going to have fits when they find out you’ve allotted more money to the control of Dementors than you have to the relief of those poor war orphans –"

"Ask the Council," Moody said dryly, "how they’d like to be Kissed."

"Tell the Council," Arthur corrected quickly, "that social relief is only a second monetary priority because the Dementors pose a physical danger to all of us. Including those orphans." His voice was very grave, his eyes were very tired, and Bill felt a rush of pride. His father wasn’t just a convenient stand in for an absent Minister. No matter his protestations, Arthur Weasley was the Minister of Magic, and he was overseeing their world with the honest, even hand of a man who’d raised seven children.

"Where are we going to put this enclosure?" Rose asked, looking nearly as tired as Arthur, and sounding a bit desperate. "Right across from Azkaban? How big will it be? And how will we keep Muggles from wandering through it and getting torched?"

Mick guffawed. "Torched!" he repeated, admiringly. "That’s the spirit!"

She glared at him. "How are we going to keep any of this secret?" she demanded. "Three dragons, flying about in the middle of the day, in an area that you very well know is frequently crossed by Muggle ships and airplanes – and this is our best solution?"

"I think it’s been shown," said Sirius, wearily, "that it’s our only solution."

"We’ll do Muggle-Repelling Charms, on the mainland," Moody said. "Plenty good enough; worked for Hogwarts for a thousand years, hasn’t it?"

"And over the sea?" Rose insisted. "In the air?"

Everyone thought quietly, for a moment.

"Got it!" Charlie exclaimed, after a moment. "There was a witch who put up these massive Diversion Enchantments, during the war – kept the dragons totally invisible from everybody. Wizards included. Isn’t that right, Bill." Charlie threw him a very cheeky grin. "How about we hire her?"

Bill felt a jolt in his nervous system, and worked hard not to show it. Charlie was giving him a perfect opportunity – this was a totally innocent way to find Fleur, get her to England, and see her again. It was something he rarely allowed himself to think about, but, presented with the option, he realized suddenly that he wanted to see her again. For a wild moment, Bill considered opening his mouth and telling his father to hire her right away.

But he wouldn’t give into it. She was just a veela. That was why he couldn’t quite get her face out of his head. Bill beat the thought of bringing her to Diagon Alley out of the front of his brain, and struggled to stay in control.

Without changing his expression or his tone of voice, he ignored Charlie’s insinuation and addressed Rose. "Diversion Enchantments are your best bet," he agreed. "But it’d be far too expensive to bring up a specialist to Diagon Alley. I wouldn’t suggest hiring outside."

"Is there someone in the area with the necessary expertise?" Rose asked.

"No," Bill answered. "But there will be, at the beginning of September. Gringotts has hired a professional charmer to come and restructure a lot of the wards that the Death Eaters blasted apart, inside the bank itself."

"Perfect." Rose jotted something on her parchment. "He’s already coming out here, and we won’t have to pay travel expenses or boarding. Excellent idea, thanks for thinking of the budget."

Bill nodded sincerely, though the budget had played no part whatsoever in his suggestion.

"The Council has one last question," Rose announced. "Who is going to fly the dragons?"

Mick immediately raised his hand, as did Charlie.

Rose surveyed them. "Who in their right minds?" she corrected.

Bill permitted himself a snort of laughter. He had to agree with Rose on that one.

Charlie waved her off. "Plenty of people. You’ve got two right here, and then my assistant's an excellent flier – using dragons was her idea, in the first place. I know she's anxious to get back to England anyway, so we can count on –"

Seeing his revenge, Bill shot Charlie a meaningful look. "Anxious to get back to England, is she?" he inquired innocently.

Charlie glared at him. "Anyhow, that’s three of us," he finished, his neck a bit pink. "And we’ll draft up a letter of invitation to the other dragon riders who were with us during the war. I’m sure we can find six others by the beginning of September, if that’s when we’re getting the Enchantments up, and starting this."

To Bill’s surprise, Rose looked semi-satisfied with the data she’d collected, though she didn’t say so. "I’m not looking forward to hearing what the press has to say about this," she muttered. "They’ll blow the dangers of dragon riding out of proportion."

Mick turned on her, looking incredulous. "You can’t blow the dangers of dragon riding out of proportion," he laughed. "We’re going to be riding meat-eating beasts and fighting off soul-sucking ones."

"You say that to the Daily Prophet," Rose said, replacing her clipboard in her briefcase and clicking it shut, "and most of the danger you’ll face will come from me. Gentlemen, if you’ve presented all your materials?"

Arthur nodded. "We’re finished. Meeting adjourned."

"A word, Arthur?" Rose said at once. "I have one or two things that require private discussion."

"Fine, fine." Arthur rubbed his bald spot again. "Boys, will I see you home? Your mother wants you to come for dinner."

Bill and Charlie promised to be there, and everyone left Rose and Arthur alone to continue their meeting.

Immediately after they’d left the office, Moody pulled Sirius across the corridor and began speaking to him in hushed tones. Bill stayed close and kept an eye on Sirius – he didn’t want him leaving before he could ask him to go for a drink – and Charlie and Mick hung back, as well.

"That was stupid, Bill," Charlie cheerfully informed him. "Could’ve had your old girlfriend stop by for a few weeks, and you would’ve been fine. That Love Charm Repellant I put on you is still in effect. You could have toyed with her a bit, this time." He waggled his eyebrows, and Mick looked amused.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-24