The Lewis House 80 страница

But the door shut behind her before he could think of a single word.

~*~

Hermione had started to Think. She'd spent an hour and a half researching in her room, which she'd cleared of most of the clutter when she'd returned from Cortona, and then Ginny had been nice enough to turn off her music and leave the house when she'd seen Hermione settle down to meditate. But Hermione had very quickly reached a stopping point in her meditation. She needed another book.

Scanning the shelves, she reached for one that would help her take her mind off things, and curled up with it on Remus' big chair.

"Nothing like a quiet evening with Advanced Concept and Theory of Modern Arithmancy," Remus said. Hermione looked up, dazed. She hadn't heard him come in, but he was standing in front of her now, holding a book in his own hand.

"Oh!" Hermione said. "Do you want your chair?"

He laughed. "No, please, stay where you are. I'm fine on the sofa."

"Okay," Hermione said, but she felt a little guilty. This was Remus' house, and they'd all invaded it in the summer. No one could have foreseen that she and Ginny would still be here as late as February. She knew that Molly would have gladly let her stay at the Burrow, but there was something calming about Lupin Lodge, and Hermione knew that it was a much better Thinking environment. She felt her face grow warm when she thought that Molly might not turn as blind an eye as Remus did to her irregular comings and goings and her breakfast returns from the Notch.

"Remus?"

"Mmmm?" He kept his eyes on the slim paperback in his hands.

"I just… it's really nice of you to let me stay here. It's not annoying to have me around, is it?"

Remus looked up from his book. "Hermione," he said. "Don't be ridiculous. I love having you and Ginny here and the boys down the street. Sirius and I both feel like we're reliving a bit of our youth, although I'm not sure that he ever outgrew his."

Hermione laughed, feeling better. Remus didn't look old to her. When he was relaxed and smiling, he looked quite young, despite the graying hair and the lines around his eyes.

"Actually," Remus shifted in his seat to face her. "You look a bit tired this evening. Have you been to see your parents?"

"Yes." Hermione shut her book and took a breath. "I've been to see them and I… had a sort of revelation."

Remus raised his eyebrows.

"I think I can get rid of the residual."

Remus's chin went down and he looked up at her with narrow eyes. "A revelation indeed." He put his book aside. "How do you think it can be done?"

"I think - well, it's never been done before." Hermione could feel herself growing impatient with excitement. Perhaps it would help to talk it out. Perhaps it was the right way to approach this. Meditation had been almost impossible and she had to sort through the idea in order to solidify her concept.

"Just tell me."

Hermione did. She told him about meeting Neville, and about trying to speak to her own parents. She told him, very briefly, about crying beside her father and about the words that Delia had said to her months ago, on Cortona.

"And it just clicked. I knew immediately what I had to do," Hermione said, hoping that she was making sense. "I've never felt this way about a spell - not one of my very own. I've felt it before about Ron's ideas, and those have always been right. I just knew this was right. I know there's no precedent, I know there's no theory - I don't care. I know." Hermione leaned forward in a passion, with her book in her hands and her elbows on her knees. "So I came home, locked myself in my room, and started Thinking about the spell. You see, they've got the memory of the curse locked up inside of them, and it's - it's like a dam. There has to be a way to break it. It's like…" She stopped, trying to find the words to explain what she'd thought in her head earlier, but she couldn't do it. For once, she was operating on pure instinct, and there were no definitions.

"A balloon?" Remus prompted. "Letting the air out of a balloon?"

"Yes, a bit. What I saw… when I was meditating...it's difficult to explain how I came to a conclusion, actually. But there's a positive element to this. It's not just about taking out – it's about giving, or, feeding. Nourishment. When you let the air out of a balloon, the balloon isn't any happier for it. The balloon actually wants the air. My parents need the tears."

"So it's essentially a form of medication?"

"You could call it that." Suddenly, Hermione was a little bit confused. What had she thought earlier? She closed her eyes for a second and tried to recreate the images and feelings in her head. Remus was silent.

Without warning, Hermione could see the spell, alive in her head as if she'd already drawn it. Opening her eyes, and tapping on her Arithmancy book, she said, "I know how to map it now. The words - the words." She thought a moment. Naming spells was one of the fun parts. "Lacrimus Salacium. The Weeping Relief Spell. Not very poetic, I'm afraid - but meaningful to me."

Remus nodded. "Can you show it to me?" he asked. "Map it for me?"

Hermione hoped that she could. She pulled out her wand and pointed it into thin air. "Experiri Lacrimus Salacium!"

Points of light connected with each other in the air. Knots of red, representing pain, swirled around in glaring red streaks. They twisted and turned and joined together until they were concentrated into one, enormous knot. The light surrounded the red, golden in color, not unlike the Gryffindor colors, and grew brighter, and more powerful. Slowly, something began to escape from the circle – tears – enormous, bright blue teardrops that looked ready to burst, nearly opaque in their fullness.

The tears continued to grow, until they could no longer contain themselves, and exploded, sending smaller droplets of water showering over the ball of red and seeming to melt it. The knot dimmed, and flickered, and separated in the air until it was no more.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked over at Remus, who looked impressed.

"How did you come up with that?" he asked. "Can you just see it, and then make it happen?"

"Sort of," Hermione said, feeling a rush of pride. "It's never happened this fast before. But I still have to look things up, of course. I'm not an expert at Arithmancy, and I spent an hour researching how to make one path turn on another so that I could make the tears turn back on the pain."

"An hour?" Remus shook his head. "You really came up with all of this tonight?"

Hermione beamed. "Well, I've become much better at working without books since I've trained with Delia."

"I can see that," Remus said, smiling. "It looks very powerful, that spell."

"It's small - but yes, it's very focused. In theory, very powerful." Hermione bit her lip. "I think I need to test it before I cast it on my parents. And then perhaps Ginny can try again, and see if she can get any closer to them - actually it might help to have her there when I cast this one as well." Hermione knew she was talking too fast, but she couldn't stop. "Because she might be able to sense things happening to them, you know, see if the spell's really working - I need to find her. Do you know where she is?"

"Not upstairs preparing for her N.E.W.T.s, I can assure you that." Remus' tone was not light.

"I'm so sorry, Remus," Hermione felt guilty again. "I shouldn't have asked her to help with my parents, should I?"

He sighed. "It's not that. She's doing too much everywhere. She's making herself ill and she's going to have to learn to pick her battles. In many ways, Ginny - " He stopped.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"She's… young. What I mean is, she is full of very strong ideals and noble principles, and she doesn’t have a realistic concept of what is actually possible. It's good to be idealistic - but there needs to be balance. Surely you learned the importance of balance at Cortona? But Ginny will learn. I just don't want her to kill herself before she works this out."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No. I don't think so." Remus stood and smoothed his robes. "But I think that it's very important to remember to have fun. Care for a drink at the Snout's Fair? A stroll might help you clear your head. And it doesn't seem that Sirius is going to be home at any human hour."

Hermione agreed. A drink sounded lovely - a Butterbeer. She'd learned to steer clear of anything more potent. She felt as if she had come into her own, walking down the street with Remus and discussing magical theory. She had always admired him as a teacher, and now he spoke to her as an equal.

"I don't want you to get your hopes up, Hermione. I think this weeping spell you've conceived is an excellent idea, but your parents are very ill. Even if it works, there will still be obstacles - possibly insurmountable obstacles. But what you've told me about the Longbottoms is encouraging - I didn't realize that they were so advanced."

"You think it's advanced that they can only remember things that happened seventeen years ago?"

"They're awake, Hermione. The Longbottoms were my friends - I went to visit them several times in the beginning, and they weren't as immobile as your parents, but they were incoherent. They babbled and ranted and raved and knew nothing about themselves or their surroundings. So we know that the effects of the Cruciatus Curse can wear off given time. I think that your spell may speed up the waking process. But you'll need Ginny to help restore their minds. There is actual, physical damage to them, you know that."

"Yes." From anyone else, such harsh truths might have brought tears to her eyes or cause unsettled feelings in her stomach. But from Remus, it all seemed rational.

"Here we are," he said, swinging open the heavy wooden door to the Snout's Fair. "And here are Ron and Sirius," he added, nodding to a booth in the corner. "Hard at work."

Ron and Sirius looked quite settled in. There was a half-finished bottle of Goldie's Liquid Curse on the table between them. Sirius was leaning forward, an intense look on his face, speaking and gesturing with manic energy. Ron was twirling his glass on the table, looking a bit bored.

Hermione and Remus ordered Butterbeers and joined them.

"…how to kill something that was never alive," Sirius was saying. "Maybe there's a way to dissolve them. Turn them into smoke." He puffed on the brightly-colored tube between his fingers, and blew out a cloud of spiced smoke. "They're solid creatures. If they exist, then they can be destroyed."

Remus gave Hermione a look, and then slid into the booth, pushing Sirius closer to the wall. "You know those things have terrible side effects," he said, pointing to the sqworm.

"You're joking." Sirius took another puff. "I never knew that. Was that discovered while I was in prison?"

Hermione slid in next to Ron, not sure what shocked her more – the sight of Sirius smoking, or the fact that he'd so coolly mentioned Azkaban. He and Ron must have been closer than she realized. Or else he was very drunk.

"I'm glad you're here," Ron whispered, and kissed her on the cheek. "He won't drop it. I can't get him to change the bloody subject."

Hermione patted Ron on the knee and took a sip of her Butterbeer.

"Tell Sirius and Ron what you've worked out, Hermione," Remus instructed, his voice firm. "I'm sure they'll find it interesting." There was a warning tone in his voice, and Hermione was surprised to see Sirius paying attention to her.

"It's about my parents," she began.

"Really?" Ron asked, tucking a leg under him and turning to face her. "Did something happen? Are they doing better?"

"No, no… nothing like that." She forgot for a moment that Remus and Sirius were listening as well. "I went to St. Mungo's today, and I saw Neville, and I saw his parents."

"And?"

"And he gave me an idea. So I went to see my parents, and ended up having a nervous breakdown."

Ron grabbed her hand. "What happened? You do look tired," he said. "And your hair's more insane than usual."

"Thanks," Hermione answered, reaching back and plaiting her hair. "How's that?"

"I like it the other way," Ron answered. He pulled at a piece of hair that she'd missed. "Put it back."

Hermione smiled at him. She wanted to give him a kiss, but Sirius snickered, reminding her that they were not alone.

"Remus, I love it when you wear your hair like that," he said, mocking Ron. "And those robes bring out the dirt under your fingernails."

"Shut up," Ron and Remus said in unison.

"Right, sorry," Hermione said. She finished telling them about her day.

When she had finished telling them about the spell, and when Remus had backed her up by describing the look of it in the air, Ron leaned back and whistled. "My, my. Did it take you two whole hours to work that out?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Was he being a prat on purpose? "Two hours is not a long time, Ron. Delia told me that it's taken her years to discover some solutions. I realize this isn't a huge spell, but it's a huge deal to me, and I thought - "

"You're the worst Thinker ever," Ron interrupted. His eyes were twinkling.

"Oh," Hermione laughed. "Sorry. I guess I am tired. I didn't see that one coming."

"Hold on. That's brilliant." Sirius leaned across the table and pushed the bottle of Liquid Curse out of the way. Ron poured himself and Sirius another shot.

"Well, I thought it was a good idea," said Hermione, feeling pleased. "I just hope it will help my parents."

"So your theory is to suck the fear out of your parents with this spell?" Sirius's eyes had the very hollow look that they'd had in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago. Hermione really could understand why some people still crossed the street when they saw Sirius coming. She wondered if he'd had that look before Azkaban, and suspected that he'd always been a bit mad. "You're saying that the tears turn back on the pain - so are they a force of attack, or do they act as a drain, to draw out all the unpleasantness?"

Hermione nodded. "Both. The spell feeds the energy behind tears straight into the pain, in order to dissolve it, and then the pain can be released, through actual tears, which are the end product of the spell."

"You came up with that," Ron said under his breath, "and it already sounds like something out of a textbook. Next year it'll be on the O.W.L.s and everyone'll be forced to memorize it. You're cursing generations of students forever -"

Hermione elbowed him.

Sirius's eyes turned bright. "The Dementors feed on human happiness," he said. "Perhaps that spell could be manipulated to work on them."

"Sirius," Remus said, moving the glass of Liquid Curse farther away from his friend. "Perhaps we should discuss this at home, and leave Ron and Hermione to enjoy this news in peace. She conceived the spell for a very specific purpose that has nothing to do with -"

But Sirius wasn't listening. "They suck the happiness out of you. And then they take your soul. All those people, all those people in St. Mungo's wandering around that Post-Dementor Soul-Sucking ward. They have no souls."

"That is unfortunate, Sirius, but I don't think - "

"Unfortunate?" Sirius seemed to have forgotten that Ron and Hermione were still at the booth.

"I've never seen him this mad before," Ron whispered to her. "I don't think he'll notice if we make a run for it."

Hermione put a finger to her lips, wanting to listen in case she could help. She'd studied with Delia to become a Thinker and, even if it had been for fairly selfish reasons, she wanted to be able to help others as well. Sirius was right; the Dementors were a problem and no one else seemed to be worrying about them. She could remember the Hogwarts grounds in their third year. She remembered the feeling that had washed over her as a hundred Dementors had rushed upon her, Harry, and Sirius. She hadn't been able to fight. The coldness, the despair, and the weakness that had filled her knees - the only thing that had felt worse had been seeing her parents for the first time, after the attack.

Sirius had felt like that every day for twelve years. And he'd had equally bad things to dwell on. Worse, in some ways, because the people he loved were dead and he'd been blamed for it.

"Sirius?" she ventured.

But he and Remus were now arguing. Or, rather, Sirius was ranting on about his idea, while Remus listened with his usual poise, wearing an expression that indicated that he was going to come back at any second with a rant of his own, if Sirius wasn't careful.

"Sirius?" Hermione said, more loudly this time. He looked over at her, mouth open, mid-sentence. "Tell me where you're going with that idea."

"Well," he said, looking surprised that someone was trying to converse with him. "You were saying that your new spell would drain the terror out of your parents. And I was just thinking that we could apply the same principles to draw all human energy out of the Dementors. Perhaps even to draw out those people's souls."

Hermione considered this for a minute. Everyone was watching her. What Sirius said made theoretical sense. But she didn't know enough about the Dementors to know whether or not the theory would translate to reality, and the idea of getting back people's souls seemed far-fetched indeed.

"I could research it," she offered. "But I wouldn't want you to get your hopes up. There are hundreds of Dementors. I suspect that you would have to get them all at once. They seem to be more of a … unified body than individuals. I bet if you tried a destructive spell on one of them that the others around it would be able to sustain it."

"That's true," Remus chimed in, before Sirius could speak. "I can tell you right now that the Dementors can and do operate as a single body, when attacked. It's survival instinct of the lowest kind. They can feed off each other, in order to stave off everything but the most powerful Patronus."

"They don't care about each other. They're selfish creatures - look at the way they've escaped individually."

"Yes, but if they are contained together and one Dementor sees another one wasting away, he will be able to rejuvenate him."

"Look, I know." Sirius's eyes were fierce. "That's a lecture I don't need, Professor, all right?"

Hermione shifted closer to Ron, feeling rather uncomfortable. Ron didn't seem too pleased to be present for the fight either; he shared a sidelong glance with her, and pulled the Liquid Curse out of Sirius's reach.

"Sirius…"

"No one has ever tried to kill Dementors before, Remus. And you know it's important to try."

"Yes of course. And you're right, no one has ever tried to kill them." Remus sounded as though his patience was wearing thin. "But they have been researched. People have tried to figure out ways to control them. I know that you're familiar with the attempts of Ebonard LaTarte in the nineteenth century."

"He only studied them so that he could learn how to communicate with them. That's why we've got the Dementors working as prison guards in the first place - that's why they could be used in Voldemort's bloody service, for God's sake. Good thing he got his soul sucked."

"Sirius! His intentions may not have been honorable, but his research was valid."

"Is it worth it to read up on this Ebonard person?" Hermione asked, wanting to stop the argument. Both men turned to look at her as if she was a surprising presence; they had obviously forgotten, as she had done earlier, that they were not alone. "Would it help me if I tried to Think on his research?"

"I thought you weren't supposed to use books while Thinking," Ron said lightly, giving her a playful punch. "I thought we were weaning you off of those."

"You should talk. You spend all day at your job at the library."

"It's the archives. And it's legal research."

"So?"

Ron laughed. "I don't know. Just ignore me and help Sirius so that he leaves me alone at work."

Sirius cracked a smile. "Never, Weasley." He looked at Hermione. "What should I do to help?"

"Well… any factual information you can give to me would help. Anything you might know that I couldn't learn in books."

"They're evil, soul-sucking, destructive creatures who feed on human emotion."

"Thank you so much for that groundbreaking data." Remus looked tired, and he stood up, motioning for Sirius to follow. "It's not going to happen overnight," he said. "Don't go doing anything foolish. Hermione has other obligations at the moment, and when those have been seen through, she's going to have to Think about what you're proposing. It could take weeks, or months, or years. And when she does come up with a solution - " Remus smiled encouragingly at Hermione "- I have no doubt that it will involve the work of many wizards and witches, a lot of powerful magic, and more work than one person alone can handle. Do you understand me?"

Sirius downed his glass of Liquid Curse before sliding out of the booth and stumbling to his feet. "Sometimes, Remus, I think you don't trust me."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Ron snorted. "I certainly don’t trust him. Not when it comes to the Dementors. Did you see how unreasonable he got? It's like he can't see logic where they're concerned - and it's not like I blame him, but it worries me, because he doesn't seem sane about it. I don't think he's ever been completely sane, to tell you the truth."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"Well, you know what they say about great minds." Ron kissed the side of her mouth. He smelled lightly of spirits, but he didn't seem tipsy in the least, and Hermione had the feeling that Sirius had been responsible for downing most of the bottle. "I wouldn't give him any information ahead of time, Hermione, or he might do something really stupid."

"Don't worry," she answered. "I'm the cleverest witch of my age." She turned towards him a bit so that he could kiss her more fully, but pulled away before they could start anything serious. People were at the booths and tables all around them.

Ron idly brushed her hair away from her shoulders and throat. "You're clever all right," he said, studying her eyes. "We hardly got to talk at all when you got here - but do you really think you've solved something, with your parents?"

"I know I have," Hermione said unhesitatingly. "It's not everything, but it's a very good start. It's going to give them relief, even if they never know it."

"They'll know it." Ron touched her mouth with the pad of his thumb. "They're lucky you're theirs, you know that?"

Hermione felt a stinging sensation behind her eyes, and she worried that her tears might get the better of her again. She ducked her head and leaned her forehead on Ron's shoulder.

Ron pulled her close. "Come here, you're tired. Want to go home?"

Hermione nodded, but she wasn't ready to move just yet. For once, in public, she shut her eyes and let Ron hold her for a very long time.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Outbursts

~*~

A/N: This is another humongous chapter. There's not much else to say, really. We can't believe you're still reading.

Thank you for the betas, Caroline, CoKerry and Firelocks.

~*~

In her dream, the Great Hall was as resplendent as it had been at every Leaving Feast for the past six years. Banners hung proudly at the heads of long, shining tables and golden plates were piled high with fantastic foods. The teachers sat, straight-backed and smiling in their throne-like chairs, surveying the scene as if all was well.

Disenchanted, Hermione gazed down the Gryffindor table and across the hall.

There were so many empty chairs. At every table.

She had never thought the day would come when she would look forward to leaving this place, but the Hogwarts air was full of more fear than magic, and those who were fighting Voldemort could no longer risk being near certain students, whose aims were so obviously the opposite of what they should have been. And yet they had to sit with them today. Hermione wondered briefly if it was really wise to hold a Leaving Feast, this year.

Hermione's eyes strayed to the Slytherin table. Malfoy wasn't there. Perhaps he had decided that the Leaving Feast was beneath him and that he did not care to hear Headmistress McGonagall's commencement speech - she was giving it now in proud, even tones that rang out in the hall. Surely Malfoy would have spent the whole time sneering. Better that he should stay in the dungeon and sulk until he could go out into the world and truly become what Hermione knew he already was.

Not that Hermione could hear the speech either. McGonagall's words might have been inspirational, but Hermione could hardly concentrate; what she wanted more than anything was to turn and lean her forehead against Ron's shoulder and cry her heart out. This was the end. And tomorrow they would get on a train and go away, into a world where Voldemort and his Death Eaters had gained more ground than anyone had ever thought possible. Tomorrow they would leave their castle and their childhoods completely behind.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04