The Lewis House 66 страница

Remembering his mother complaining the day before that all seven of her children combined had never been as much trouble as Max, Bill smiled at his father.

"Mind if I test this at the Burrow this evening?"

Erupting into laughter, Arthur nodded. "We've already done Max, but you'd better go over there anyway," he said. "Your mother decided that Max needed to start having lessons today. Remus offered to help, but your mum told him he'd better spend all of his time with Ginny, so he sent books over with Hermione this morning."

"Is Hermione going to teach him, then?"

"No, I don't think she's got much patience for it, truth be told. Max asked her first thing if she knew a good spell for 'staying awake during really boring lessons' and she looked properly shocked."

"Speaking of Ms. Granger," interrupted Rose, sounding impatient. Bill knew she could barely stand it when Ministry meetings veered off topic.

"Ah yes," said Arthur, craning his neck to see the clock on the wall. "Where is everyone else? We're waiting on Sirius and Charlie. They're late."

Rose snorted. Bill grinned; she and Charlie still had a lot to work out. Charlie hadn't quite forgiven Mick for falling in love so quickly and running off with a Slytherin. Although Charlie was usually late, Bill wouldn't have been surprised if his brother was now showing up late on purpose.

"Sorry! Sorry…" Sirius and Charlie rushed into the room, both looking damp, yet energized. Sirius' fingernails were extremely dirty. "Just had to find a place to put the bike," explained Sirius. "I told Charlie I'd give him a lift over here. It's my fault we're late."

"Working okay then, Sirius?" asked Arthur, looking at Sirius' grease-stained hands. "Is something wrong with it?"

"No, no… well, the Invisibility Booster you installed seems to be interfering with the braking mechanism, that's all. I've got it all worked out now. No problem." Sirius looked about twelve.

Rose cleared her throat again. This time Charlie snorted. Rose ignored him.

"We were just getting ready to talk about Ms. Granger," said Rose, reaching for Delia's letter and enlarging it. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she said, and the parchment hung in the air in front of them.

"We received this letter from Delia Tsikarous, the Thinker at Cortona."

"Thanks, Rose," Arthur said. "Let's look over this letter."

Dear Minister Weasley:

I take quill to parchment today to recommend to you my apprentice Hermione Granger. I know that you are acquainted with her natural talents and abilities. She has not completed an apprenticeship with me, and is not currently qualified as a "Thinker". She is, however, an immensely talented and worthy young woman.

During her time with me, I performed several tests to try to gauge Ms. Granger's abilities. You are well-acquainted with my ineffectiveness in the arena of containment, or, imprisonment charms. Ms. Granger, I believe, does not have such a problem, and may be of use to you with that particular work.

I am always happy to be of assistance.

Regards,

Delia Tsikarous

Cortona

"Well," said Arthur, when they'd all finished reading, "I think that about settles it. We'll draft a letter to Hermione and ask her to start working with Penelope immediately."

"How soon do you think it will take them to come up with a solution?" asked Sirius. "The situation at Culparrat is – "

Arthur waved his hand. "Don't worry, Sirius," he said. "It will all come together."

Rose spoke next, her voice trembling a bit. "He's right to be impatient, Minister. The situation at Azkaban is growing worse, not better. That recent incident with the dragons – well, you've seen the letter that we received from Mr. Malfoy."

Bill knew that Malfoy wasn't the one that Rose was worried about. To his surprise, Charlie jumped to Rose's defense. "Something is wrong with the dragons," he said, simply. "They act irrational like this when they've got colds, or a viral infection, but we can't seem to find anything wrong with them. Mick has been working every day since Christmas with Viking, and he's flown fine, with no problem, or sign of illness. I can't see anything wrong with them either. But the way they acted on Christmas… the way Krum's dragon acted a few weeks ago. My dragon's been fine so far, and so has Cho's, thank goodness, but…"

Charlie stopped speaking; he'd gone red in the face.

But Sirius was standing now, and began pacing the room. "I'm not too happy about the way Norbert has been acting either. And call it conditioning, but when things tend to go off near Harry, it always puts me on guard, and not just because he's my godson. Voldemort may be gone, but we don't necessarily know that all of his supporters are in Culparrat."

"A person couldn't do that to the dragons," said Charlie. "Dragons are amazing, powerful creatures. The only real weakness, besides their eyes, is their long-term memory. Training them to accept riders takes months and months of intense, one-on-one training along with a large team of keepers for backup. You have to use them, or else they forget pretty quickly. Someone couldn't just come along and command them to act jittery for a few hours."

"Maybe not someone," said Sirius, a suspicious glint in his eye. "What about something? Like a charm?"

"If we knew of a charm that powerful," said Charlie, sounding as if this was a silly question, "then we wouldn't need dragons at all. We'd just be able to destroy Azkaban altogether. You do know it takes twenty keepers just to stun a dragon."

Sirius shrugged and continued to pace, muttering, "The real problem isn't the dragons – it's the Dementors. Why don't we focus on finding a way to destroy them, rather than worrying about the health of something that's only a temporary solution."

Charlie looked like he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it.

It was one of those moments when Bill thought Sirius looked particularly frightening, but his father seemed unaffected and began to speak.

"I should report on this Peeping System that Penelope and Miss Chang were working on – it's taking longer than we thought. It went up just after the incident at Christmas, and it works, but we 're not sure that the floor plans we have of Azkaban are complete. Moody's got some of the Aurors at Culparrat scheduled to be at the new monitoring station at Azkaban twenty-four hours a day, but that's not keeping the Dementors inside the castle. All we've learned is that they seem to skulk about and try to get outside the boundaries. They're certainly not destroying each other, although they do seem -" Arthur shuffled through some pieces of parchment on his desk, and rubbed his eyes. "- to be 'depressed' and 'lacking in motivation' on some days, and, it says in this report, they seem to sleep most of the day, from about six in the morning until about four at night, although they tend to be more restless on weekends."

"It's possible to talk to Dementors, isn't it?" asked Bill. "I mean, if you know their language?"

"We've tried," answered Arthur. "They won't talk to us at all. They're focused on getting out of that castle. It's as though they've gone crazy."

"Gone crazy?" said Sirius, color rising in his face. "They've always been crazy. They eat souls. They always have. If you want evidence, just stop by the PDST ward at St. Mungo's and try to talk to some of the soulless shells that are hanging about there. They must be stopped."

Rose was rocking back and forth on her feet, and looked very much like she had something to say.

"What is it, Rose?" prompted Bill. He smiled at her. Maybe if he tried to be kind, Charlie would follow suit. Besides, Mick had been extremely helpful to Bill in recent months.

"I've had another letter," she blurted, but then seemed to regain her composure. "It's about the dragons. Someone has volunteered her services."

"Well, who is it?" asked Sirius, stopping his pacing, and leaning heavily against the wall by the fireplace.

Rose pulled a roll of parchment from her robes and cleared her throat:

Dear Secretary Privy Brown:

It has come to my attention that there have been several recent incidents regarding the dragons that are in place to keep the Dementors at Azkaban. Aside from the fact that the dragon-riding schedule is very intense and taking its toll on the riders, the dragons themselves seem to be having unexplainable problems.

I think I might be able to help. You might find this difficult to believe, but I have recently discovered that I am a Healer–"

Bill groaned loudly. She'd done it. Ginny had actually written the letter. He should have known.

"NO way," Bill said.

"Why not?" asked Rose.

"Look," said Bill, trying to think of a good reason. 'She's my little sister and I can remember when she was a baby' didn't seem like one he wanted to speak out loud.

"The thing is," he faltered. "You see, I mean, she's not even out of school! She can't even Apparate yet. What if a dragon lunges at her and she can't defend herself? Can't you just, I don't know, hire more riders?"

"We have," said Charlie and Rose together. Both looked a bit disconcerted, and Rose motioned for Charlie to continue.

"There are three riders in training. But the dragons that they're training with are still in need of a lot of conditioning, and frankly, the riders aren't very good. I don't know how many of them will even make it through the training. And we've always said that this is a temporary solution. Sirius is right, we need to be working on a way to destroy the Dementors."

Bill looked over to his father, who still hadn't spoken. He looked torn. He was muttering under his breath and shaking his head, and appeared to be doodling on the Azkaban report.

"Charlie," said Arthur, finally, not looking up. "If we decide to let your sister help to try and work out what's wrong with the dragons, how might you be able to protect her?"

Bill gaped at his father, surprised.

"Well I'm not going to let her fly up to Norbert and look up his nose or anything like that!" said Charlie, as if this were obvious. Bill felt a small amount of relief. Charlie was mad when it came to his dragons, and Bill didn't feel comfortable assuming anything. "She'll be on the ground, outside the enclosure. Dragons have very powerful auras – isn't that what Healers do? Read auras and things like that? She should be able to do whatever she needs to do with her feet on the ground. It seems a perfect solution to me."

"And you would accompany her at all times?" Arthur lifted his head and looked at Charlie. His eyes were very shiny, and he seemed lost.

Before Charlie could answer, Bill turned to address Sirius. "You're probably the only one here who's seen Ginny working on a daily basis. How does she do it? How is she when she makes the Wolfsbane Potion every month? Does she get tired? Healers are supposed to be ultra-sensitive to any pain or illness around them. How does she manage to be around you –" he pointed at Sirius, "- without passing out every day? Has she ever passed out? In the beginning, it's very common for a Healer to have very severe and physically dangerous reactions to people in pain – "

"Been reading much, Bill?" teased Charlie.

"No, he's right to be concerned," said Sirius. "She's not allowed to open up around myself or Remus. He's been working with her since the beginning to try to get her to learn how and when to turn her powers off and on. She's fairly good at managing it around everyone except for Harry."

Bill felt instantly ashamed for thinking badly about Harry.

"Sir," said Rose, addressing Arthur. "I've heard wonderful things about your daughter. I know she's young, and if these were normal times, then I would say that there would be no need for a seventeen-year-old girl to be hanging around Azkaban, but these are not normal times. The war is over, yes, but things won't ever really return to normal until people feel safe again." She paused, and Arthur put down his quill and spread his hands out on his desk.

"I suppose it's the right thing to do, Rose," he said, slowly. "Of course the Ministry wants to do what's best."

"If it's any consolation, sir," said Rose, blushing, "I can tell you that I had the opportunity to ride on Viking during my last inspection. Accompanied, of course. It's frightening, yes, but in truth, I wasn't afraid. The dragon riders and keepers at Azkaban really are the best, and I know that if your daughter is supervised constantly by Mr. Weasley or Mr. O'Malley, no harm can come to her."

Charlie looked stunned. Bill was about to point out that Ginny wouldn't be so safe with Mick if Viking threw his entire harness again, but his father spoke first.

"All right, then. I'll draft a letter."

Bill let out a sound of exasperation. "Is this meeting over?" he asked. Arthur nodded, and Bill headed for the door. It was a wonder that any of them had made it to adulthood in one piece, he thought, as he Disapparated.

When Bill arrived at the Burrow, it was oddly quiet. There were several books and some parchment spread out across the large kitchen table. Bill leaned in closer to see what Max had been studying and was surprised to see that the writing was advanced for a twelve-year-old boy.

Bill could hear no movement throughout the house, although something simmered in a small cauldron over the fire. He peered in, expecting to see a Weasley stew, but instead, the contents were orange and appeared to have something brown floating along the top. Recoiling in disgust, he headed towards the front room to see if he could find his mother.

She was sitting in his dad's big chair, feet propped up, eyes closed. Bill cleared his throat, but she didn't open her eyes. "Arthur," she said. "There's some corned beef in the kitchen, if you'd like a sandwich – "

"It's me, Mum," said Bill, wondering if his mother had been hexed. He'd never seen her so sedate. "Dad's still at the Ministry." Perhaps now would be the best time to tell his mother about Ginny.

Molly Weasley opened her eyes. "Bill, dear," she said. "You can have some of the corned beef, too. Just save some for your father."

"Mum, are you okay? Where is everyone?"

"Penelope is still at work," said Molly, counting on her fingers. "Leo is upstairs, sleeping, finally. Your father is at the Ministry. And Max is out in the garden, cooling off."

"Cooling off?" asked Bill, wondering if his mother had lost her mind. "How long has he been out there? Freezing is more like it. It's January, Mum!"

"Max," said Molly, looking fierce, "cannot be trusted with a wand. That is going to make it a bit difficult to give him lessons in practical magic, but until he learns how to respect his elders, he's going to have limited lessons."

"What happened?" asked Bill, wondering how his mother could look so tired. He'd never been any trouble, but she'd raised Fred and George, hadn't she? How bad could Max be?

"He's already mastered Levitation charms, so I thought I'd try to teach him some basic Transfiguration. He was very well behaved all morning, and I thought he was actually interested in turning those buttons into beetles, when all of a sudden, he pointed his wand at me and tried to freeze me! Luckily, he's only twelve – and he only managed to make my leg fall asleep – "

"Mum!" said Bill, shocked. "That's terrible."

Molly just nodded, and continued talking. "So I took away his wand and decided to try Potions instead. I think he thought that he'd be done for the day after that little stunt, but I'm not going to let him off the hook that easy. I needed some heat fertilizer for some of the plants in the garden, and since that's easy, I made him start with that."

"Was that the disgusting stuff in the cauldron?"

"Yes, and he did it all perfectly – "

"It's supposed to look like that?"

His mother gave him a look that told him he'd better stop interrupting.

"Yes, it's supposed to look like that. It looks repulsive, which should discourage willful young boys from drinking it."

"He drank that?"

His mother sighed. "Yes. And he's fine, except that it's too warm for him inside at the moment. I gave him an antidote, but it's going to take another hour to finish working. In the meantime, he's sitting still, thinking about horrible things to do next, no doubt."

"Mum," began Bill, gently. "You know, he can go back to St. Mungo's if this is all too much – "

"Not on your life, Bill Weasley!" Molly's cheeks were red. She wagged a finger at him. "That boy must have had a horrible life to make him that way. I can't imagine what his parents were like – but he's learned that behavior. He's a rotten, obviously spoiled, willful boy." She laughed. "But I've definitely enjoyed having someone young in the house again. He's not going anywhere. "

"You sure, Mum?"

"I'm sure," she said. "Now, why don't you let me rest a bit more – go outside and get acquainted with Max. Try to find out more about him. Don't let him inside before seven."

Bill headed out to the garden. Max was sitting on a stone bench near the house. He didn't move when Bill sat down next to him.

"Hi," said Bill.

"Could you move?" asked Max, not looking at him. "I'm hot."

"You move," said Bill, trying not to get annoyed.

"Can't. The dragon lady sealed my bum to this bench."

Stifling a laugh, Bill moved down just a bit. "Watch it," he warned. "She's my mum, and a bloody good one, too. She wouldn't have done that if you hadn't given her a good reason."

It was very nearly dark outside, and the torch by the kitchen door lit up, causing Max to start. Bill shivered and pulled his cloak tighter. He didn't have the benefit of some disgusting potion coursing through his veins. The bench was cold. He watched as several garden gnomes climbed out of their mounds and began to creep towards the Weasleys' winter vegetables.

"Ever throw a gnome?" asked Bill, standing and drawing his wand.

Max looked up at him and threw back his head. "Where I come from, we didn't have garden gnomes."

Was the kid going to tell him where he was from? Bill knew that Ron had done some research and had been unable to find evidence of anyone named Max at the orphanage. They all had a strong suspicion that Max was lying about his first name and the whole family had been tasked to try to coax it out of him.

"Where's that, then?" asked Bill, making no move to undo the spell that bound Max to the bench.

"France," said Max, with confidence. "I'm from France."

"Oui?" said Bill. "Et ou en France?"

Narrowing his eyes, Max shrugged and said, "I don't like to talk about it. It's too awful. Show some sensitivity, why don't you?"

Bill might have believed him, if not for the last line. Instead, he said, "Your English is very good – there's no trace of an accent."

"Yeah, well," Max seemed not to have considered this little problem. "We came on a lot of holidays here. We were here when they had… the accident."

This was going to be a good story. Part of Bill wondered if it wasn't a bit unkind to let the boy carry on like this, but any information might be useful, so Bill sat back down again.

"Accident?" Bill asked, trying to sound very shocked. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

Max looked annoyed. "I said I don't want to talk about it." He made a motion to kick Bill, but couldn't reach.

"Alright, alright," said Bill, holding up his hands. "I was only asking. Why'd you try to freeze up Mum this morning, anyway? This is a great house. I can't imagine that living on the streets of Diagon Alley would be a better situation."

"My friends are there," said Max. "There's nothing to do here."

"You have friends?" joked Bill. "You're a prat."

"Not around them, I'm not. Only when I'm around old men with girly earrings."

"Girls like the earring," answered Bill, tugging at it. "Except for Mum. You should get one."

"I bet Ella would think it's disgusting," answered Max. "Besides, where's your girl, then? Ron's got a pretty one, and he's years younger than you are."

Bill knew he was treading a thin line. He desperately wanted to know more about Max's friends, but wasn't sure how far to push. Looking at Max's hunched form on the bench, Bill felt an overwhelming urge to protect the boy. He was only a kid, and he'd lost his parents, and now, impoverished as it was, the life he'd started to build for himself. He thought of Fleur, and her younger sister who would never have any chance at a decent life. He couldn't do anything for Fleur's sister, but he knew he could do something for Max.

"Perhaps," he said, slowly, hoping his mother wouldn't kill him. "Perhaps you'd be happier if some of your friends came to stay here as well."

At that moment, Molly's voice called to them from the door. "You can probably come in, now, boys. Arthur's home, and we can all have supper together."

Remembering that his father had yet to tell his mother about the decision to let Ginny work with the dragons, Bill wondered if it wouldn't be better to stay outside. "It might be better if we didn't go in just yet," he said to Max. "My dad's got some news for my mum. How about we throw a few of these gnomes and work up an appetite? Then we can talk a bit more about our options."

Max nodded, and Bill turned to address his mother.

"I think he needs another half an hour, Mum. I still can't get too close to him. You go ahead, and we'll eat later."

"All right, dear." There was concern in Molly's voice. "But don't stay out too long, or both of you will catch your death." The kitchen door creaked shut.

"Finite Incantatum," said Bill, pointing his wand at Max so that he was free to leave the bench. Max stood and stamped his feet on the ground a few times.

"Thanks," he said. Then, as they headed towards the nearest gnome hole, he said, "Do you really think – "

"Max," said Bill, reaching down to grab two gnomes by their ankles. He handed one to Max, who took hold of it expertly. "Mum would never turn down an opportunity to have more help in the garden." He hurled his gnome over the hedge, and Max followed suit with an impressive toss.

"Not bad for a Frenchman," said Bill.

~*~

Hermione was silent. It was the first time - Ron was almost positive - that a visit to St. Mungo's hadn't left her in tears. Her eyes had stayed dry at the hospital while she'd tucked her parents into their beds and touched their hair and told them a little bit more about Cortona. She had even whispered something to her mother before leaving the room for the corridor, where she had turned to Ron with a bit of a grin on her face. "If Mum can hear me," she'd said, "then she knows all about us. But I don't think I'll tell Dad just yet…"

Her amusement hadn't lasted, though. They had Apparated home for dinner and she hadn't wanted any; now they sat in the cold, on the steps of the Notch. Ron kept an arm around her while she stared at the sky. The sun was gone now, and Ron was freezing, but he worked not to shiver. She didn't want to go inside. She didn't feel good, she'd said, and she needed air.

She rubbed his knee. "You're really cold, aren't you?"

"Nah." He ran his hand briskly up and down her arm. "Bet you are, though."

She shrugged. "I can't feel it."

Ron winced. He hated hearing her like this; she sounded helpless and flat. Like she'd given up hope. "I know," he said, and gave her hair a kiss. "I know."

She didn't turn to him, but she shivered hard, and Ron knew it had nothing to do with him, or with the weather. "Thanks for leaving work early. I don't know why I had to see them right then, but I did, and I couldn’t have gone by myself." She paused. "They're wasting away," she said faintly.

"No they're not." Ron stroked her arm and kissed her hair again. "They won't."

"They are."

And they were. It had been two years this Christmas, and there was only so much that magic could do to keep them in shape and healthy, apart from their madness. The Grangers looked all right to him, but he had visited them several times while Hermione had been away, and their decline had been more gradual in his eyes. To Hermione the difference was harsh and horrible. They look like strangers, she'd sobbed on their Christmas visit. I don't even know them.

Hermione leaned on Ron's knee with her hand and stood up. She walked through the garden and into the road.

"Where're you going?"

"I need a walk. I know you're cold, you don't have to come."

"Would you rather be alone?"

She stopped and looked at him, and, for the first time all day, her chin trembled. "No," she said.

Ron was at her side in a heartbeat with his arm around her again. "Want to walk to the village? The fairy lights are all still up. Looks a bit like Hogsmeade, and I like it - and I think the bookshop's open until eight or nine, so we can warm up in there if we need to."

"Okay."

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04