The Lewis House 3 страница

A hush fell between them, and Ron didn’t answer for a moment.

"She said that?" he finally asked quietly. He felt a sudden, strong determination never again to fight with Draco Malfoy, for any reason.

Ginny nodded. "She did. And I shouldn’t tell you, but you need to hear it."

Ron scowled a little. Even if Ginny was right, it was still obnoxious to hear advice on his love life from his little sister – and she clearly wasn’t finished dispensing it.

"Here’s what I think," she continued. "If you promise her that you’ll ignore Malfoy, then she won’t care at all that he’s across the street, because she won’t be worried about you going after him. And if Hermione isn’t bothered, then you probably won’t be, either."

Ron glanced sideways at Ginny. Every once in awhile, he didn’t have an answer for the things she came up with.

"But what about you?" he asked slowly. "Aren’t you upset that Malfoy’s butting in on our summer?"

"I just wish that Harry could have a little peace," Ginny answered, giving a tiny sigh that did not escape Ron’s notice. "But no, I could care less what Draco Malfoy does. I feel sorry for that whole family."

"Pretty sad lot, aren’t they?" Ron snorted. "Except for Lucius."

"No. Especially Lucius."

Ron turned to Ginny again, incredulous. "You can’t seriously feel sorry for that bastard."

"Why can’t I?"

A thousand answers flooded Ron’s mind. Lucius Malfoy had given Ginny the diary that had possessed her and Petrified Hermione. Lucius Malfoy had stood by and watched while Voldemort had inflicted terrible pain on Harry and tried to take his life. He had been involved in Ron’s own kidnapping, in their seventh year. He had tortured Hermione’s parents and helped to kill Hagrid – to say nothing of Percy. And not even three weeks ago, at the very end of it, Lucius Malfoy had attempted murder on their own father. There was nothing pitiable about a man who could do all that.

"He nearly killed Dad," was as much as Ron could bring himself to say.

Ginny nodded. "I know it. But his curse came back on him, didn’t it? Right out the back end of his wand." She shivered. "He killed himself right in front of his own son."

"He deserved it."

"I know. That’s what’s so sad."

They were quiet again, lost in their separate thoughts for a little while, until they came into the village itself, and headed for the pub.

"Nervous?" Ginny asked, elbowing Ron a little.

He feigned an injured look. "Me, nervous? Hell no. How hard can it be, anyway – I take a bottle, I empty it into a glass."

"There’s probably a bit more to it than that."

"Nah. I’m not worried." He shrugged, and came to a stop. They were outside the wooden door of the Snout’s Fair, standing under a sign that depicted a handsome profile of a man with a tankard raised to his lips. "Wish Hermione hadn’t been so tired," Ron said with a sigh, watching the sign swing in the summer breeze. "She was going to come down here with me."

A moment later, Ron felt Ginny tuck her arm into his.

"Want me to stay a bit instead, and watch you screw it up?" she asked, smiling. "I’ll test your drinks, if you like."

Ron didn’t mind the idea at all. "Stay the whole shift," he offered.

"All right. Anyway, I wouldn’t want you walking home past the big scary Malfoy house all by yourself."

Ron couldn’t help a laugh at that. "Watch it, or you’ll be walking back with Jelly Legs."

"You dare and I’ll turn your shirt into a spider."

Ron tickled her. Ginny pulled her wand. A small scuffle ensued outside the door of the Snout’s Fair, but no real damage was done and no spiders appeared. In fact, neither of them was able to do anything much except laugh, and at the end of it, Ron felt much better. He smoothed his hair quickly, before pulling open the door.

"Reporting for work," he said, grinning, and feeling glad, for some reason, that Ginny would be there to see it. He looked through the door and saw Goldie standing behind the bar. The older man waved at him in welcome, and Ron was pleased to note that he already felt right at home. He turned to Ginny. "After you," he said grandly, and motioned her into the pub.

Chapter Seven

Culparrat

The Apothecary's laboratory was situated on the main street of the small village, although calling it a "street" was a bit of an overstatement. Remus Lupin had never actually seen the outside facade of the building, preferring to Apparate directly inside, in front of Mr. Jenkins's counter. The old man lived in two rooms above the shop, and was almost always to be found standing in his work area, managing two or three potions at once.

Remus was a bit later than he would have preferred this evening. He had not wanted to draw attention to himself, and had merely left a note for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny saying that he would not be home for supper. None of them had seemed to notice the circles under his eyes and his short temper in the past week, and he was glad. The last thing he wanted was for them to start worrying about his problems in addition to all of the larger issues cropping up since the end of the war.

He had hoped that they would all have been able to enjoy a "normal" summer together - the kind that he could recall from his own childhood. He hadn't counted on Dementors and he'd tried to block the Death Eaters out of his head. And now Sirius was so busy that he'd barely spent any time with Harry. He'd even been too busy to perform his usual ritual of badgering Remus to let Padfoot remain with him during the transformation. Remus was trying to remain neutral and not bother Sirius about his current work hours, but Harry's disappointment at Sirius's absence from breakfast earlier that week had been evident, and Remus had resolved to say something to Sirius after the full moon.

And then there was the problem of work - as in, he had none to keep him busy. Sirius had been including him in the decision-making process over the site of the new temporary holding prison, and Arthur had been consulting him on a regular basis, but he still had no official title or position or income. Remus remained patient - after all - no one save Arthur Weasley really had any sort of a title at the Ministry these days.

So he had spent a good portion of the week investigating Draco Malfoy's appearance at Martin Lewis's house across the street. Ginny seemed determined not to let it bother her, but Hermione was clearly disturbed by Malfoy's arrival; she had spent most of the week indoors. Ron had been thundering around Lupin Lodge during the day wearing a falsely cheerful expression, while secretly peeking out the window at the Lewis House when he thought no one was looking. Harry spent a lot of time flying but seemed relatively calm over Malfoy's appearance. Then again, Remus reflected, he really had no idea what was going on in Harry's head.

Curiosity and a need to feel useful had driven Remus to Diagon Alley and the Ministry one day to investigate. He remembered Draco Malfoy from class as an intelligent boy with a typical Slytherin mean streak. Certainly the boy had seemed mild compared to his powerful and corrupt father and had thus far escaped any charges for war crimes, despite Lucius Malfoy's reputation and known involvement with Voldemort. He'd discovered that Malfoy Manor had been hit by a curse in the last days of the war in an attempt to destroy Lucius's cache of Dark Arts paraphernalia. The Malfoy home was now undergoing renovation and Narcissa and Draco Malfoy had come to stay with Narcissa's brother Martin. Remus hadn’t realized that Narcissa’s maiden name had been Lewis; Mad-Eye had provided this last bit of information over a drink in the Leaky Cauldron, winking as he asked Remus why he'd never noticed the attractive blonde growing up across the street from him. Remus had shrugged. He hadn’t noticed any attractive blondes because the Lewises had not been the occupants of the manor house in Remus's youth. He told Mad-Eye as much, and left it at that.

The previous owner of that house had been a werewolf...

"Ouch! Watch what you're doing, will you?" Jack Hughes held out a hand to steady himself on the counter; Remus had knocked into him slightly after Apparating into the Apothecary.

"Sorry," Remus apologized, straightening and looking around the room. Four other men, all looking as ragged and tired as Remus felt, were standing in the cramped space, shuffling their feet as Mr. Jenkins ladled a foul-smelling potion into goblets.

All of these men were werewolves, just like Remus. They were also all wizards. They came from various parts of Britain and, like Remus, Apparated to Mr. Jenkins's shop every morning for a week out of every month in order to drink the Wolfsbane Potion that would make their transformations peaceful. The Potion was extremely complicated to make, and not just any person could be trusted to brew it successfully. There were only a handful of skilled brewers in the country, and many of the werewolves preferred to be alone during their transformations. Most of the werewolves in the room had been regulars at Mr. Jenkins's shop since the Potion was first perfected seven years earlier, and chose to remain in the cellar of the shop on the night of the full moon. Remus had only ever trusted Mr. Jenkins and Severus Snape when it came to the Wolfsbane Potion. The Wolfsbane herb alone was lethal to a werewolf, and terrible things had happened to those who had first volunteered to test early recipes.

Remus hated the Wolfsbane Potion. He hated the smell; it was useless with sugar, and therefore tasted horrid. He despised his necessary dependency on it. Without it, he would turn into a vicious monster that craved human flesh; with it, he became a lethargic, useless beast, who still craved the flesh, but no longer had any energy or desire to act on those impulses.

A short, stocky, youngish man, with very thick dark hair tinged with gray, passed a goblet over to Remus. "Thanks, Liam," he said quietly, and raised the goblet to his lips, trying to hold his breath as he drank the putrid concoction.

When everyone had drained his cup, Mr. Jenkins walked around to the front of the counter and reached down to lift up a trap door. It revealed a very large cellar that contained several small rooms holding potions supplies, and one large room with a stove. Blankets were spread out on the ground.

Remus slowly climbed down the rickety ladder and chose the blanket furthest from all the rest. He pulled a worn book out of his pocket. It was a new tactic - to try to become so lost in a story that he would forget the impending transformation. It didn't entirely work but it gave him something to do.

His mind kept wandering no matter how much he tried to control it. He could hear the other men talking quietly in the room around him. Jack and Liam, he remembered, seemed to enjoy gossiping until the last possible moment, when they could do so no longer. It was slightly comforting to know that there would be others here with him this evening, although it wouldn't be the same as having Padfoot...and Prongs...and... Peter. He preferred now to think of Peter as 'Peter' and not as 'Wormtail’ or even 'Pettigrew'. It kept him from growing bitter at the memory of what his school friend had become. Bitterness was futile. Peter was dead. Remus ticked off the list of names that never left his mind. Peter. Lily. James. Severus.

Snape. Severus had prepared the Wolfsbane Potion faithfully for Remus during those last few months of the war. The two of them had never quite managed to have what might be termed a "friendship", although Remus knew that, by the end, they had developed a mutual respect. It was odd, he thought, that they had trusted Peter so much and been rewarded with betrayal... and that Snape, whom they’d all despised, had given them so much, in the end. No one ever would have believed it, back in school. Sirius would certainly never have believed it. Remus smiled in spite of his situation, as an involuntary memory entered his head. Shutting his book softly, his thumb inserted in the pages to hold his place, Remus closed his eyes.

He had always enjoyed Potions in school. The practicalities of brewing, stirring, and timing that were involved in the art of potion making appealed to his controlled nature, although he seemed to lack a natural skill for the subject. He’d done well enough to pass the class, despite the fact that they shared it with the Slytherins.

One particularly rainy day following a night of the full moon, Remus had managed to ruin a cauldron. He had been tired and groggy; he and Sirius had encountered a wolf in the Forbidden Forest the night before, and there had been a small scuffle. James had not been joining them as frequently as he used to for their monthly ramblings - he was the Head Boy and would occasionally feel guilt at breaking the rules, although it rarely lasted. Peter had simply forgotten. While mulling over the previous evening's events in his head, and kicking himself for being so foolhardy as to run loose in the Forbidden Forest without both Padfoot and Prongs to control him, Remus accidentally added twice as much hemlock as was necessary for the assignment. The cauldron - quite a nice one that his mother had purchased as a reward for the hard work involved in earning his Potions O.W.L. - had emitted a slow, whistling noise, and then collapsed inward.

Remus had stared at it, shocked, and rubbed his forehead, not sure where to cast his eyes.

"Is it that time of the month, Lupin?"

Severus Snape was working at the table next to his. For someone who so openly disliked him, Severus seemed to enjoy positioning himself next to Remus in class whenever possible, most likely so that he could shoot sarcastic commentary Remus's way before Nightwood, the Potions master, caught on.

Remus hadn't cared about Snape's comment. It was one in a series of insults that Snape had directed at him ever since Sirius had played that dratted trick on him. He could remember almost laughing at Snape's comment, when a movement on his other side and a loud bang forced him to look up. It was Sirius.

Also tired from their nighttime adventure, Sirius had advanced recklessly on Snape.

"Take that back, you greasy, pathetic excuse for a wizard."

Snape had stared arrogantly at Sirius, not saying a word, and Remus had felt his weariness turn to worry. Sirius was too rash for his own good sometimes. The last thing they needed was for Sirius or Snape to say anything that would alert the rest of the students that Remus was a werewolf. No one, save Remus and Sirius, had heard Snape's original insult. James was now next to Remus, and looked ready to pounce as well, but Sirius had spoken loudly enough for the class to hear, and Professor Nightwood swept towards them, his face contorted with fury.

"Mr. Black! What on earth --? Mr. Lupin? Is that your cauldron?"

Always one to favor members of his own house, Professor Nightwood had given Remus a sharp reprimand and granted Sirius a detention. Snape had escaped the incident with a smug look of satisfaction, and Remus had begged Sirius not to go after him in the hallway when class commenced. Only with Lily’s help was a fight averted; the Marauders returned in silence to the common room and the five friends sequestered themselves in the corner that all of Gryffindor recognized as theirs. James was the first to speak.

"I'm sorry, Moony. I should have gone with you."

Remus sighed to himself even now. He could still hear James’s tone of voice - it was so like James to take the burden entirely on his shoulders, and Remus knew that if he were alive today, he'd be working as tirelessly as Sirius to bring things to order.

"Bastard. Slimy, good for nothing coward..." Sirius had muttered explosively. He had then affected a horrible, effeminate voice. "'Is it that time of the month, Lupin?'"

James had snorted in disgust. "He damn well knows what time of the month it is."

"Is that what he said?" Lily's green eyes had narrowed dangerously. "I would have thought he'd at least respect Dumbledore."

"Yeah, and nobody's supposed to know what you are," Peter had added, helpfully, "but if he keeps on, they'll all find out you're a - "

Sirius had turned to face Peter, amazement written all over his face. "Shut UP!" he hissed. "Are you MENTAL? And by the way, where the hell were you last night, Wormtail? Nice of you to show up."

"I - I fell asleep early."

"You fell ASLEEP?" Sirius had shouted, moving toward him.

But Lily had stepped between them, and the fighting had stopped before it could even begin. Remus exactly remembered the look on her face. She’d always had the sort of presence that could quiet an army, he reflected - and she’d needed it, with all of them. She’d looked very seriously at Peter, then turned to James. "Go with him next time and don’t bother with rules."

Remus had smiled at that. "Some Head Girl you are."

"That's never been my first priority," Lily answered at once. "I'd've gone with you if I could. I'll never forgive you four not telling me this from the beginning so that I could help, too. Now you go to bed, Remus, you look really awful. And Sirius, you go too - I know you were up all night."

"Yes, Mum," Sirius had tugged Lily's ponytail before he followed Remus up the stairs to the boys' dormitories, muttering low and filthy epithets about Snape, and exclaiming aloud whenever he came up with a new plan for torturing him slowly to death.

Remus couldn’t remember too much more of what had happened that night. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the werewolf enclosure, amazed that he could look back with such nostalgic feelings on his transformation memories. Nights and mornings that should have been the worst ones of his life were colored with the comfort of friendship - in James and Lily and Peter and Sirius he had found not only acceptance, but relief. And later in his life, Snape - who had done his best to make life even less bearable for him during each full moon during their schooldays - had finally shown him that same acceptance.

"It's been a while."

Remus jolted back to reality as Jack Hughes sat down next to him on the floor. He absentmindedly scratched behind his ear and nodded. The transformation was soon upon them; it always began with a tingling, itching feeling throughout his entire skin.

"Yes," Remus answered, smiling a bit. He enjoyed the company of these other men, although he had not grown close to them over the years. He supposed he ought to try to join in their conversation this evening - after all, who knew - he might be coming here once a month for the rest of his life. He didn't know of anyone else who had the skill and whom he would trust enough to brew the Wolfsbane Potion. "How's your wife - Anne, is it? And your daughter?"

Jack blushed and grinned, shaking his blond head slightly. "All right," he answered. "Anne's still working in Hogsmeade and Brenna's nearly ten now. She ought to get her letter for school next summer - d'you think Hogwarts will be ready in time for her to attend?"

"Yes," said Remus, confidently. "Minerva McGonagall estimates that it's only going to take a year to rebuild. She'd like to see the students back at work next September."

"That's good," said Jack, nodding. "My daughter's a smart girl." He smiled, looking very pleased with himself for a moment, and then his face took on a sober expression. "Look," he said, his voice growing quieter, "you're quite good friends with Arthur Weasley, aren't you?"

Remus nodded, and winced as a pain shot through the entire length of his back. Jack coughed and continued in a throaty voice, "Do you know if the new Ministry will be more favorable towards - our kind? Arthur's well-known for the work he did with Muggle rights under Fudge and well, I could use the work, as could Liam and well, everyone here in this room. We can all get temporary stuff, you know, but..." Jack stood, although not entirely upright, and put his hands on his back.

Remus finished the sentence for him. "It would be nice to be official, wouldn't it? Arthur's working on it, but you know, they’ve got to see to the Dementor situation first. He's assured me that it's on his list though." Arthur had told him as much, although Remus couldn't be sure that even the Minister of Magic would be able to convince more narrow-minded witches and wizards in the Ministry that werewolves were trustworthy. He had earned a small amount of respect from his role in the war, but people like his neighbor, Martin Lewis, still turned green at the sight of him.

Jack smiled with difficulty and Remus knew as a dull throbbing began in his own head that they all had very little time left to talk this evening. Before he left for his own piece of the floor, he patted Remus on the shoulder. "Thanks, mate," he said.

Remus could only nod his response; at this point, words were beyond him. He reached to remove his shoes and every movement was a focused effort. The wolf was becoming active now; Remus felt the cold creeping along his veins to settle just under his skin as it always did, the stinging in every pore, the itch of each individual hair pushing unmercifully through his flesh as he unbuttoned and removed his shirt to make way for the transformation.

"Padfoot..." he muttered, only half-aware that he was calling out for Sirius. It was Moony's instinct to find Padfoot - even during the years that Sirius had been in Azkaban, Moony had never forgotten Padfoot's smell, and Remus had used to hate himself for missing Sirius so incredibly, even after the things that had been done to Lily and James. But he hadn't been able to help it, and Moony had mourned Padfoot at each full moon as if it were a new wound. Remus's own human pain had been dulled with constant effort and the careful retraining of thought. But the wolf was simpler and the loss of the dog had remained unbearably sharp, because the dog had been his partner. Prongs had been the biggest, the most beautiful, the most impressive to Moony in terms of sheer mass, and Wormtail had been the most deft. But it was always Padfoot that had corralled the wolf, Padfoot that had traveled in step with him, howled with him, played with him, made this wrenching pain almost worth bearing.

Fingers of fire shot across his ribs and Remus contorted, but did not lie down. There was no point in lying down; he'd be thrust forward on all fours in a matter of minutes. The only thing to do was cling to rational thought, human thought, for as long as possible. But it was too difficult to think of Sirius. Now that Remus was no longer parted from his dearest friend by Azkaban's walls, he wanted Padfoot here. He grimaced at the incredible cramp that seemed to grip his intestines, and shook his head dimly against the pain. Padfoot wasn't coming. Those times were over - this enclosure at the apothecary's was the only choice, now that Snape was dead.

Snape. Remus clung to the thought as his back arched spasmodically and curved forward again. His head hung toward his knees and he could hear his own labored breathing - but he would hold on to his mind. Snape. Snape had been killed near the wards of Hogwarts on that final day of battle - no one knew exactly how. They had never found his body. They had never found Percy's body. They had never found Peter's body, either. Not that they had ever looked.

Remus felt his kneebones twist and he gasped in agony, hardly aware of the sounds of pain which echoed in the room around him, unable to care if his own were humiliating and raw. Concentrate, he ordered himself, but he felt his thoughts spiraling ever further out of his control, becoming more fragmented, more disjointed as the wolf's consciousness overtook his own.

Peter's body. Peter's death - for Harry. He had died for Harry, just like James and Lily. Killed, slain. He had killed again, too, after James and Lily. He had killed Percy Weasley before Percy's information about the Order had been properly verified - he had killed him rashly, stupidly, hoping that his actions would earn him commendation. But it had been the worst possible move, and instead, Peter had been brought before Voldemort to explain why the Death Eaters' best source of information thus far had been disposed of before it had been properly exploited. Realizing his mistake, and in fear of his life, Wormtail had Disapparated and run to Hogwarts... in his Animagus form... and he had scampered into the dungeons to hide...

Remus felt himself snarl in anger, even though his state was already muted by the Wolfsbane, at the memory of Wormtail in that dungeon. He himself had been standing there with Snape as he brewed Veritaserum for the Order... Remus had gone to talk to Snape about Harry, about protecting Harry, about the potion element of the Fidelius Charm... About who best could serve as Harry's Secret Keeper... Not Sirius - too obvious. Not Ron and not Hermione - same problem. Not himself; once a month he was useless. Snape had answered that the most unlikely candidate was Neville Longbottom "I hardly recommend that you entrust anything so crucial to such a fool, but then again, no one in his right mind would believe Longbottom capable of it. Of course, he may be capable of other things. Pettigrew was, if I recall the situation correctly."

Remus had been on the verge of cursing Snape for that callous remark, but before he could start in, Sirius had come crashing into the dungeon to find out what in bloody hell was taking so long - and stopped short in the doorway. His face had slackened, his eyes had gone bright, his wand had been pointed at the floor as if Voldemort himself were lying there.

"Apparently they were right to call you a madman, Black," Snape had commented silkily. But Sirius had not been mad. A few well-chosen words and a twist of his wand, and Peter Pettigrew had cowered on the floor before him, shaking, terrifed, bloodied at the knees.

Remus remembered his shock. Peter? Here? Now?

"Please - please - you have to help me -" he had stuttered. But Sirius had cast a Muting Charm on him before he could do any begging, and had stood directly over him, wand aimed at his heart.

"Why, Peter. What a pleasure, really, and aren't you looking well? What brings you here?... What's that?... Can't you answer?... Cat got your tongue? Pity. I so wanted to ask you a few questions. About Percy Weasley, for example."

Sirius's voice was so merciless and Peter had trembled so horribly that Remus had actually felt sorry for him.

"Sirius..."

"No, Remus. I'll kill him now. Today. Enough chances have been wasted and enough lives lost. You can help if you like; otherwise, I'm thrilled to do it alone."

"It's murder, done like this."

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04