The Lewis House 69 страница

"So," said Hermione, ticking things off with her fingers. "They have no wands. That's a minor deterrence. We're trying to avoid any sort of psychological manipulation of the type that was caused by the Dementors, so we have to assume that all prisoners will be in their right minds."

Penelope snorted. "As right as a murdering Death Eater can be in his mind."

"We do need to think about guards," said Hermione. "No matter what system is created and no matter how awful the crimes of the prisoners, they'll have to be fed and bathed and watched. And they have to be guards that are resistant to bribery and fiercely loyal to justice."

"That was one of the first things Percy and I thought about," said Penelope, surprised at how much she was remembering without the aid of her notes. "We started this whole project because of Fudge's insistence that Percy find an alternative guard solution to Dementors. But we couldn't find any group of creatures or special wizards that could handle it alone. The more powerful creatures, like the giants, have a history of inconsistency intermingling with wizards. Wizards tried to employ them in China in very early times, and the giants just sort of lost it one day and destroyed the prisons. Werewolves who are wizards have a history of loyalty to wizards in the rare times that they're accepted into society, but there's the issue of the days preceding and following the full moon. Also, we found that there are fewer and fewer werewolves in the wizarding world, due to Defense Against the Dark Arts education. Which is wonderful – we wouldn't want to inflict that on anyone unnecessarily." Penelope shivered as she thought of kind-hearted, gentle Professor Lupin.

"Percy had suggested using something like a Pogrebin," Penelope continued. "Do you know what that is?"

Hermione recited, "A Pogrebin is a Russian demon that affects people's minds. It can overcome people with a feeling of lethargy and despair, and force them into extended crying fits and feelings of futility. But -" Hermione looked confused "- they eat people, don't they?"

"Yes, they do," Penelope said, laughing. "But there are ways to stop them from doing that. You can feed them other things."

"Oh, good," said Hermione. "Although making the prisoners feel awful is exactly what we're trying to get away from. That's why they don't want to keep them Stunned."

Privately, Penelope didn't think Stunning was too bad of a punishment for someone who had murdered others. More than once, especially while pregnant, she'd had fantasies about breaking into Azkaban and torturing all of the Death Eaters there. It never made her feel better, because it still didn’t seem like a big enough punishment for those who had been responsible for her husband's death. "We don't want to coddle them," she said.

"True…" said Hermione, "but we also can't count on future generations being as fair in judgment as our current Ministry. There's always the possibility of innocents ending up in Culparrat, just as they did in Azkaban."

"Yes, I suppose," Penelope said. Usually, she found that she couldn't feel too worked up about that possibility. But then, every time she saw or spoke with Sirius Black, she was reminded of his story, and felt a renewed drive to make things right. It was just that every so often, as she'd worked on this charm, she'd thrown her hands up in disgust and thought, 'It would be so easy if we could be the slightest bit cruel, and, after all, they are guilty of crimes.'

Hermione's eyes had been closed, and she opened them, a solemn expression on her face. "Let's start with the basics," she said. "Did you and Percy ever come up with a concept for a simple containment spell?"

"Yes." Penelope reached over to her pile of parchment, and pulled out a roll that had Spell Map written on the side of it. "We had written out about eight different options for containment spells before… Percy… well, there was one that he liked best of all, and when I was pregnant with Leo, I worked on that one the most. I don't know all of the advanced Arithmancy to actually construct it, but I've done research into the theory."

"Let me see," said Hermione. She held out her hand and opened the roll of parchment. She looked at it for several minutes, her brow creased. Penelope, who hadn't shown her charts and diagrams to anyone, stood up and wandered over to watch Leo sleep. The charts were probably terrible. She'd been staring at the diagrams for so long that she'd probably missed a major point somewhere along the way. She definitely should have waited a few days before showing everything to Hermione. Penelope knew she wasn't as smart as Percy had been, and she could have used his excellent mind for Arithmancy when doing her research. Their basic idea had been that, rather than surrounding a building with a charm, they would surround the prisoners with the charm. The prisoners would be bound individually to the building. If they tried to leave, their personal boundary would do any number of things to prevent them – catch fire, freeze, put them to sleep – she and Percy had spent an entire evening coming up with more and more outrageous "punishments" for prisoners who tried to escape their new 'cells'…

"Penny?" Hermione's voice interrupted her train of self-doubt, and she turned to see Hermione looking much more alert than she had earlier. "This is brilliant. How did you come up with it?"

"You really think so?" Penelope asked, not quite sure she could believe what she was hearing. "You really think it will work?"

"Well, it should work, in terms of keeping something inside something else. We still have all those other issues to work out – guards, unexpected magic, incompetent judicial systems – but a strong containment spell would have to be at the root of things, and I really think this can work."

"You don't think," asked Penelope, remembering how much sleep she'd lost over the charm, "that the idea of locking into someone's aura is too invasive – that it's too close to Stunning?"

"No!" Hermione shook her head. "Not at all! It's perfect! I wish I could have thought of it. Delia tried to get me to find a way to keep gnats away from a pomegranate when I was in Cortona. I came up with something similar, but in reverse. I surrounded the pomegranate with a barrier – I used good, solid magic, and I was pretty proud of it, but anyone trying to break it would have immediately tried to go for the pomegranate, and not the gnats and flies and insects. Of course, the spell you conceived wouldn't have worked in that situation because we wouldn't possibly be able to get to all of the possible set of insects who could potentially attack the fruit, but with Culparrat, we have a finite number of identifiable prisoners, and…"

Penelope wasn't really sure where Hermione was headed with this, but she listened patiently. Maybe part of being a Thinker was to ramble until you found an answer. She must have looked confused, however, because Hermione laughed at her.

"It's all right, Penny," she said. "I'll stop rambling. Your eyes were starting to glaze over, and I know from Ron that means it's time to stop."

"So," Penelope repeated, "you're saying you think it could work?"

"Yes." Hermione rolled up the parchment and gave it back to Penelope. "Put that in a safe place. It's now a high-security document. I think we still need some more layers of containment charms, just to be safe. We could rework my pomegranate spell for the building anyway, just to add some extra security. And we'll definitely need another layer. But I think we should start working with this. I don't know why you thought you needed my help – you've had it figured out all this time."

"I don't know about that," Penelope said, laughing. She felt more light-hearted than she had in months. "You're right – we still have a lot of work to do, which is good, because I need to work to pay for my new house."

"Oh!" Hermione leaned forward, and looked at Penelope with enthusiasm. "When are you moving? I didn't know that you'd found someplace."

"Well, Molly's not really talking about it, and there were too many other things happening at Christmas," said Penelope. Molly Weasley was routinely "forgetting" about Penelope's impending move, and had even asked her, a week earlier, if she'd like to redecorate Leo's room, since he'd soon be too old for cuddly bears and balloons. "But yes, I found a place here in Diagon Alley, close to the Ministry. We're moving in February."

"How exciting!" said Hermione. "I've always thought it would be lovely to live on Diagon Alley. I don't think I'll ever stop being fascinated by the things I see here. And I used to be so jealous when I'd come before school to buy my things, and see the young wizard children running about. Not that I had a bad childhood – it was lovely – but it was a Muggle upbringing."

Penelope smiled in agreement. "In a way, I think that being raised a Muggle makes people more fiercely interested in magical things. I… I love the Burrow," she said. It felt good to have someone to talk to – another girl, with her background. She rarely saw Cho, except when working, and she'd lost touch with many of the other girls she'd known in school. "I would love for Leo to grow up there, and we'll still probably spend our weekends there. But I do need my own place. I can't live with Percy's parents forever."

"Of course not!" said Hermione.

"It was difficult for Percy, growing up there, and I think that's always in the back of my mind. He wouldn't want to live there. He loved his family, he loved his parents, and he loved his siblings, no matter how much of a hard time they seemed to give him. But he was different. He was so much more serious. And the same things that make the Burrow such a wonderful, homey place are the things that make it difficult to live there sometimes. I know that he always felt closest to Ginny, even though she was so much younger, because she seemed to be able to sense when to stop. I guess we know the reason behind that now as well, don't we?"

"Yes, we do," said Hermione, looking distant. But before Penelope could ask what the matter was, Hermione shook herself and smiled. "You better watch out for Leo. Who knows what sort of super powers he may have inherited. All of them are overachievers in their own way. Even Fred and George."

"You know," said Penelope, wondering if it was okay to gossip about your private life in an office at the Ministry of Magic. It seemed more out of place than in the kitchen of the Burrow, even if there was a playpen sitting in the middle of the room. "Fred and George were so horrible to Percy, growing up. One time, he wrote me a letter, and it said, 'if it weren't for the twins making my life a living hell every day, I think that my family life would be quite pleasant.' I think they realize now how sensitive he was to their teasing. Fred finds excuses all the time to drop in and play with Leo. Sometimes I wouldn't even know he'd been by, except that there's usually a new toy in Leo's hand."

They both laughed – so loudly, in fact, that Leo woke up and began to laugh as well. Penelope wandered over to him and reached down to tickle his toes.

"Well, I'm proud of you," said Hermione. "And I promise to visit whenever you invite me."

"You're always invited," said Penelope, lifting Leo out of the playpen and carrying him over to the chair. "Especially if you'd like to babysit."

Hermione kissed Leo's head, and then sat back down in her seat. She pulled out a piece of parchment and, inking her quill, said, "I think we need to draft a letter."

"To whom?"

"Well, what we really need is a professional Charmer. We could try building the spell in miniature and begin working with it, but really, we need someone with experience in building large Charms to come and tell us how this would work on a grand scale. I was going to write to Delia and see if she could recommend anyone."

With the feeling of light-heartedness came a feeling of relief. Penelope hadn't been sure how she was going to build any spell once she'd thought of it. Why it hadn't occurred to her to ask Arthur for the services of a professional Charmer was beyond her, but it certainly seemed like the most obvious step. "You might want to write to Professor McGonagall as well. They've been building all sorts of charms at Hogwarts. They must be working with someone… or several someones."

"Good point," said Hermione. "I'll draft two letters. Until then, we should start thinking about our other problems. Layers. We need layers. We've done a lot – well, you have, really. We've still got so much to do, though. But I think this is enough for today." Hermione yawned.

Penelope nodded in agreement. They still did have a lot of work to do, but now that she was working with someone, Penelope felt like it would be no problem at all.

~*~

Ginny stood outside her father's office, feeling for the first time as if he were really the Minister of Magic. The scroll in her hand was so... official.

"Ms Virginia Weasley:

It has come to our attention that you are a practitioner of Empathic magic. Your valuable presence is requested at the Ministry of Magic on the 5th day of January, 1999. Please arrive with your broomstick, and whatever materials are necessary to the art of Healing. You will be escorted to the dragon enclosure on the shoreline opposite Azkaban, where it is hoped that you will be of service to the Permanent Azkaban Patrol in determining what ails their dragons.

Thank you for your time,

Arthur Weasley

Minister of Magic"

She rolled up the parchment, and stuck it in her pocket, feeling very nervous. She had wanted, very much, to go out to Azkaban and see what it was like. She had sworn to herself that she would work out a way to get there. But though she couldn't wait to test her skills on the dragons, she hoped - very secretly - that Charlie was planning to hold her hand.

"Miss Weasley." Arthur's personal guard had opened the door for her, and he was smiling. "Your father is ready for you."

"Thanks, Lawrence." She walked into the office, and was glad to see that Charlie was already standing there, alongside her father. "Hi -" she barely managed, before her voice was muffled in Charlie's robes. He'd pulled her into such a tight hug that she could barely keep her grip on her broomstick.

"You're a good one for secrets," he said quietly.

"I wasn't planning to keep it secret," she said honestly. "I just wanted more time to practice first."

"It's all right." He squeezed her again, and let her go. "I'm not that surprised. You were always really... sensitive." He stepped back and gazed apologetically at her. "I thought it was because you were the girl, but I suppose we should have paid more attention. Bill says there were plenty of signs -"

"No, no," Ginny hurried to correct him. "It was dormant when I was at home and anyway, you hardly lived there with me - you had no way of knowing. Hi, Dad."

Her father hugged her too, and then sat down behind his desk, where he picked up a quill and bent over a bit of parchment. Ginny noticed how silvery the red hair around his bald spot was becoming; she had never noticed that before, and it shocked her. He finished writing and held out a Ministry visitor's badge, which hung on a cord. "Wear this at Azkaban so you're not mistaken for an intruder."

"She won't have trouble," Charlie said. He had been staring at Ginny all the while, his arms folded across his chest. "You ready, Ginny?"

"Look after her, Charlie."

"I will."

Ginny hung the badge around her neck, feeling very warm. For once, their protectiveness was rather nice. It had a ring of something precious to it, as if she was something to be protected not because she was the youngest, or the girl, but because she was special in her own right.

"You're going to have to go by Floo powder to the inn at Stornoway," Charlie explained, pointing to it on a map he'd produced from his pocket. "I'll meet you there. And then we'll fly. It takes about ten minutes in the air, but it's the closest we can get. There's no Floo portal on the shoreline, for security reasons. See you at the inn." He disappeared.

"I suppose this would all be much easier if you could Apparate," Arthur mumbled, from behind his desk. "Speak to me about that later, would you, Ginny? We'll arrange something."

Ginny gaped at her father. He had once said that he would never consider pushing up her Apparition Examination, for any reason. "Sure, Dad," she replied dazedly, before following Charlie into the fireplace, her broomstick in hand.

They were only a moment at the inn before they mounted their brooms; Charlie told her to keep low around the outside of the village, but otherwise gave her no instructions. She felt oddly grown up, flying beside her second-eldest brother as he gave her a quick rundown of what had been happening with the dragons. He gave her the information without adding explanations for her benefit and, for the first time, Ginny felt as though he were looking at her as an adult and a comrade, the way he looked at Bill. That she knew something he didn't know - that she possessed a talent he needed - was a lovely shock. It had always been the other way around.

"Charlie," she asked, when he'd finished telling her everything, "do you really think that the dragons have human energy, or do you just say so because you're crazy about them?" She pulled her cloak a little tighter with one hand as they neared the sea; a cold wind whipped her hair about her face and made her shiver.

"I really think they've... I don't know if it's human? But they're highly intelligent, and they've got emotions, I'll swear on it. I'm worried that's why they're acting up. The Dementors might have taken a toll on them."

"But Dementors remind victims of horror. What horrors could the dragons possibly have?"

Charlie gripped his broom and veered left into a thicket, before answering. "This way's faster," he muttered. "I don't know how it's possible for them to be affected. I'm hoping you'll tell me it's some sort of cold."

"Dragons get colds?"

"Of course they do," Charlie said defensively. "They get upper respiratory infections in those giant nostrils of theirs and then they can't release their smoke properly and it chars their throats - horrible for the poor beasts."

Ginny hid a smile. "Yes, the poor beasts," she agreed. "But wouldn't you know if it were a cold?"

Charlie sighed. "Yes," he admitted. "We've checked them for the usual physical ailments. Eyes are the weak point, and that was the first thing we examined. Then the nostrils. Then we poke about their privates -"

Ginny made a disgusted noise. "Char-lie!"

"I'll give it to you in technical terms, if you like."

"You're revolting!"

He laughed. "This way, we're nearly there," he said, and rose up above the trees. Ginny followed suit, and gasped at the sight of the shoreline, stretching north and south as far as she could see against the dark gray sea. Far out across the water, she spotted a pinprick of an island. Azkaban.

"Where are the dragons?" she murmured, still staring out over the ocean as she brought her broom to a safe landing beside her brother's. Her shoes sank into the soft, sandy earth and the cold salt breeze cut across her skin. It was freezing, out here. She tucked her muffler closer around her neck.

"It's all right there." Charlie pointed into space. "Amazing enchantments, aren't they?"

"Wow..." Ginny had seen things made invisible, of course - but this was more impressive than usual. An entire dragon camp was right in front of her, and all she could see were the rocks and the sea and the sky. Charlie led her between two standing stones, and Ginny gasped. Dragons were all around her. "They really are... amazing, Charlie," she whispered, standing rather close to him.

"I know," he said. "Come here, you'll need these." Charlie had led her to a massive tent, within which was a row of lockers. He opened one and started to hand her heavy, fireproof clothing. "That's a jacket," he said, "and here are trousers - they ought to fit over what you've already got on. Here are your goggles, and these are gloves -"

"I know what they are," Ginny said, pulling off her cloak and looking around the tent as she donned her gear. Dragon camp - she was really at a dragon camp - the smell of animal and human sweat mingled thickly in the air and she felt again the strong sense that she had finally grown up. She had been let into one of her brothers' secret worlds. This was what Charlie did every day; he came here to these tents and put on his scary looking gear and organized a camp full of dragons and riders for the Ministry of Magic. He was really something. She shut her jacket and tightened the cords across her chest, noticing Charlie's impressed look.

"You got the hang of that quickly."

She declined to tell him that she'd practiced on Harry's jacket, last fall. "Right, so, what now?"

"Fireproof your broomstick," Charlie instructed.

"Did it at home," Ginny said, digging through her cloak pockets for a hair bobble. She pulled her hair back tight. "I'm ready."

A sudden, hot wind blew back the tent flaps, and there was a sound of loud, leathery flapping, followed by a giant snort.

"Day shift's back," Charlie said. "Good, now you can have a look at Norbert - he's been behaving worst of all - Harry's been having a hell of a time."

"Then put him on another dragon!"

"He wants Norbert. I'm not a tyrant, you know - no more of your Howlers, thank you very much." Charlie took her cloak away and handed her a heavier one, made of dragon hide. "It's freezing cold out here," he said, helping her put it over her shoulders, and reaching for the clasps.

"I can do it," Ginny said automatically, but she didn't brush his hands away. "Percy used to do up my cloak," she murmured, remembering all the times he'd fussed over her in school.

Charlie gave a wistful smile, finished buttoning her up, and bussed her lightly on the top of her head. "Let's go meet the dragons, shall we? And you can... do whatever it is you do."

Ginny shoved down the fit of nerves that threatened to overtake her. She could do this. She had been practicing nonstop on all the house animals, and on all the magical creatures that Remus had managed to acquire. She could do this.

Charlie led her out of the tent and Ginny took an automatic step back - the newly landed dragon was very, very close; it gave a great roar and shot a bellowing wave of fire into the sky. A dozen keepers, all dressed in gear like Ginny's, surrounded the giant green animal and led it away. It snorted and stamped - it didn't look a bit happy, and neither did Mick O'Malley, who dropped to the ground to avoid being smashed by its tail as it stormed away.

"Viking's got a bit of a temper this afternoon," Mick said, getting to his feet and wiping his gloves on the front of his jacket as Ginny and Charlie walked into the clearing to meet him. "Hope we can get this all sorted out - hello, Ginny." He stuck out his hand, and Ginny shook it.

"You're the species specialist?"

"'S'right."

"And this is affecting all the breeds?" Ginny asked briskly. She had a list of necessary questions in her head, and she hoped she would remember to ask them all. She felt odd and vulnerable, as if at any moment they would all realize that she wasn't a professional at all, and that she had no idea what she was doing here.

Mick didn't seem to notice her insecurity. "Every dragon that flies full shifts has started to buck in midair, just recently. They're showing typical signs of physical pain, but we can't for the life of us work out where it's coming from, and Charlie's suggested it might be emotional distress." Mick rubbed his forehead. "I don't know if it's possible, but... it just might be. They're all giving us hell - the four Welsh Greens, the Fireball, and the Norwegian Ridgeback. I'd say the Fireball's feeling it least, and the Ridgeback's getting the worst of it. Let's back out of this area, Harry was right behind me and I don't want to get trampled by that crazy animal he's riding."

Ginny cringed inwardly at the thought of Harry on a maddened dragon; she shot Charlie a warning look, which he ignored. He grabbed her arm and marched her out of the clearing.

Seconds later there was another blast of fiery air, and a dragon even more enormous than the first one landed just beside them. Ginny clenched her fists so tightly that they hurt. Harry was sitting on top of the dragon, seeming very small as he pulled giant straps over his head and yanked his boots out of stirrups. He looked tense and exhausted. The keepers that had taken Viking to his enclosure were running back now, wands out, and it took every one of them to control Harry's dragon. Norbert raised his wings with a frustrated roar and brought them slamming down on either side of him; Harry shouted out and clutched at his harness. There was nothing holding him to the dragon's back any longer, and he fumbled for his Firebolt.

"I'm going to kill you, Charlie," Ginny said, her voice tight, hardly noticing that her brother had dived into the fray and was giving assistance to the other keepers. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Harry, who was still struggling not to plummet as Norbert brought his wings up and down once more with a mighty crash. The dragon breathed a harsh, streaming jet of fire at the nearest keeper, who barely managed to deflect it.

"Get that insane beast out of the clearing," someone ordered, from above. Ginny looked up to see Draco Malfoy, his wand touched to his throat, perched carelessly atop a Chinese Fireball and looking extremely put out. "My shift is over."

"You'll have to wait, Malfoy," Harry yelled irritably, not turning around. He had got his Firebolt free, and was finally climbing out of his harness. He was off the dragon's back in a matter of seconds, and Ginny only released her breath when both his feet were safely on the ground.

"Harry," she called out, not able to stop herself.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04