The Lewis House 16 страница

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you have nine trained flight dragons?"

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

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

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

"Thirty!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone thought quietly, for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mick immediately raised his hand, as did Charlie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill gave Charlie a withering look. He didn’t want to talk about Fleur with anyone, he wasn’t thrilled that Mick apparently knew about the events that had transpired, and he didn’t need teasing about something that still made him feel terribly foolish. "Why don’t you concentrate on your own damn girlfriend," he shot, his voice low and clipped.

Charlie’s smile evaporated. "I don’t have one," he fumed, "I keep telling you – "

Mick interrupted at once. "Hey, speaking of women – Privy Brown’s got right sexy since school let out, hasn’t she?"

Bill and Charlie left off sniping at each other, to stare at Mick, for a moment.

"She hates you," Charlie finally said, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Mick said, looking totally unperturbed. "She made that overly clear, did Miss Rosie. I need to get her to a pub." He grinned and ran a hand through his brown hair, giving Bill a good view of the nasty burn on the back of his forearm.

"Medical wing," Bill said, on reflex. "Both of you," he added, looking at the large, blood-spotted bandage that Charlie had wrapped around his bicep.

"Never got over being Head Boy, did you?" Charlie laughed.

"If Mum sees that burn, she’ll drive us all mad during dinner, chatting on about how you need to find a safer line of work now that the war’s over. Go get it mended."

Charlie nodded, and gave Bill an oddly sad half-smile. "Percy’d appreciate you stepping in for him," he joked, then ducked his head and went quickly away down the corridor, with Mick.

Bill felt a painful tug in his chest, but he put it aside as best he could – Sirius had pulled his wand and was clearly about to Disapparate.

"Hold on –" Bill crossed to Sirius with one long step. "I’m hitting the Leaky Cauldron, and you could use a drink."

It took a few minutes to persuade Sirius to give up working, for the moment, but Bill managed it. Moments later, they were walking through Diagon Alley, quizzing each other on their respective projects.

"And the curses on the lower vaults?" Sirius was asking.

"Torn up. When the bank got blasted, one of the security dragons down in the lower part of the vault system got free of its restraints. Knocked out a whole section of walls, not to mention setting off a domino effect of nasty curses. It’s a free-for-all, down there."

"We’re lucky it hasn’t been looted."

"True. Then again, I think you’ve got most of the advantage-takers Stunned, over at Culparrat. You’ll start trying their crimes in what, a week?"

"The week after the full moon." Sirius winced, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, between his eyes. "Arthur’s helped me assemble a jury, and a roster of acceptable judges and defense representatives, so at least we’ve got them taken care of."

"But who’s giving you a hand with prosecution?" asked Bill, curiously.

"No one."

Bill raised a startled eyebrow. Moody was right – Sirius was mad, taking that much on, without assistance. But Bill didn’t protest it, because he thought he understood Sirius’s reasons. Despite the new peace in the wizarding world, people still weren't entirely sure who could be trusted. As a result, the remaining living core members of the Order of the Phoenix were taking on the bulk of the work, in every field. And though they were all going to stay very tired, for a long time, at least they’d know that things were getting done right.

"Hey, c’n I have a knut?"

Sirius and Bill turned, together, to see a very young boy with sandy brown hair, standing off to the side of the cobbled road. He looked to be about twelve, and his eyes were very fierce. He held out a grubby hand for money.

"God," Sirius muttered, and took a step toward the boy, who jumped back.

"Stay off," he said warningly. "D’you have change, or not?"

"You need more than a knut," Sirius told him, his voice going hoarse. "Let me get you to St. Mungo’s –"

"You can sod off!" the boy yelled. He turned and fled away, disappearing so quickly that Sirius didn’t even have a chance to start after him.

"I’ve seen that kid," Bill said quietly. "I’ve tried to take him in, as well. It’s the same thing with a couple of the others. They’ll fight me off and starve, rather than go to the children’s home."

"Of course they will. " Sirius looked even more drawn and fatigued than he had before as they entered the Leaky Cauldron and sat heavily on bar stools. "They want their parents, not an institution. You know what I see every time I look at one of those kids?"

Bill shook his head.

"Harry," Sirius answered flatly. "I see Harry. Hey, Tom, can I get a bottle of Madman and a –" He looked at Bill.

"The same."

"Sure thing, Mr. Weasley." Tom paused, and gulped. "And Mr. Black." He opened two bottles of the strongest stout on the market, and handed them across the bar to the two men. Bill noticed that Tom retracted his hand from Sirius’s bottle in an excessive hurry. He further noticed that Sirius flinched at the bartender’s obvious fear. He made no comment on this, however. There was nothing to say. Sirius Black had been a wanted man for sixteen years, before his Ministry pardon, and people still reacted to him as if he were really a murderer.

Sirius downed the Madman as if it were water, and asked for another. Tom sent it flying toward him from the other end of the bar. Sirius caught it, and sighed. "Can’t say I blame him for standing back," he muttered, putting the bottle to his lips.

But though Sirius’s meaning was obvious, the flying bottle of stout put Bill in mind of a less difficult topic. "How’s Ron doing, down at the pub?" he asked. "I still haven’t made it down there."

"You should go. He’s a good bartender. Nice, heavy hand with the Liquid Curse."

Bill grinned. "Is that so." He could hardly imagine Ron, all grown up and working a job. But then, it was hard to convince himself that Ron and Ginny weren’t still very, very young. Though he’d seen proof of their age, during the war, he still had an urge to pick up Ginny and toss her around, every time he saw her. They were just kids.

"They’re not driving you mad?" he asked Sirius, laughing.

Sirius finished the Madman and exhaled loudly, then asked for a shot of Liquid Curse. "This is it, for me," he told Bill. "Cut me off, I’ve got work to do. And no, they’re not driving me mad. Unless you count the fact that Harry has a nobility complex worse than his late father’s. Other than dealing with that, it’s been a treat."

Bill knew the story behind that comment; Charlie had told him all about Harry’s encounter with the Dementor. "So none of the trouble’s coming from the Weasley end? Shocker. Write to my mum, will you, and tell her she did well with the last two – she’ll feed you for the rest of your life." Bill finished his stout, and asked for another one as well.

"Ron’s fine. Reminds me of me," Sirius answered, with a harsh laugh. "And I don’t mean that as an insult." He lifted his shot glass, and drank half its generous contents.

"I don’t think he’d take it as one," Bill replied, wiping his mouth. "Glad to hear they’re not running you ragged – I thought they might be up to no good, what with those things Harry asked me to send him."

Sirius looked up sharply. "What did he ask you to send him?"

Bill shrugged and drank, before answering. "Potion ingredients. Said he was working on something important and needed some god awful stuff from Knockturn Alley – shredded flesh and Runespoor scales and something else."

Sirius was on the edge of his seat, and his eyes were blazing. "Did you send it to him?" he demanded. "If you haven’t, then don’t."

Bill moved back, surprised. "Sorry, but I sent it yesterday, and it got there fine. Had an owl from Harry this morning."

Sirius made a furious noise, drank the end of his shot, and slammed the glass on the bar. Tom shot a nervous look at the two of them, but didn’t come to ask what the matter was. "You have," Sirius said angrily, "a very presumptuous little sister."

"What – Ginny?" Bill narrowed his eyes, instantly worried. "What’s it got to do with Ginny?" He set down his bottle and pushed back his stool, turning to face Sirius.

But Sirius seemed to realize he’d made a mistake. "Never mind," he muttered. "One too many – " He gestured to his glass. "Never mind."

"I’d like to know what’s going on," Bill leveled, in the steely tone that he usually reserved for dealing with extremely difficult goblins.

"I can’t..." Sirius rubbed the bridge of his nose, wincing again. "You know what the Wolfsbane Potion is."

"I do." Bill watched, and waited.

"Your sister’s asked Remus for permission to make it, this month." Sirius laughed incredulously. "And this is what she meant, when she said that Harry was helping her. Damn it –"

"Wait." Bill couldn’t quite process what he was hearing. "Are you telling me that Ginny’s planning to make a Wolfsbane Potion out of those ingredients I sent?"

"Among others." Sirius shook his head. "Bill, this is very personal and I had no intention of blurting it out. You’re going to have to keep this to yourself."

"But Remus isn’t allowing her to – "

"Oh, but he is." Sirius gave a wide, false smile. "He certainly is. She started this morning, I believe."

Bill’s heart raced. Ginny wasn’t old enough, or educated enough, to successfully manage a potion that advanced. He was also fairly certain that it was illegal for her even to attempt it. "Isn’t it..." he paused. "It’s lethal, Sirius, if she gets it wrong."

Sirius laughed – the sort of laugh Bill had always imagined, as a child, when people had told stories of Sirius Black, standing in the middle of the street surrounded by dead Muggles, laughing maniacally. He shivered.

There was a sudden, shattering noise. Bill looked up and saw that, at the far end of the bar, Tom was trembling. He’d dropped a glass at his feet.

Sirius looked at the old bartender, seeming to grow sober before Bill’s eyes. "Let’s go," he said quietly, putting money on the bar, and pushing back his stool. He was out the door in moments and, when they were in the street once more, he turned to Bill. "I want you to keep this to yourself."

"If Remus is injured, Ginny will be held responsible. I can’t let that –"

"I won’t let that happen," Sirius interrupted. "I’ll talk him out of it by the end of the week, before he starts taking doses. But it’s a private issue, and I don’t want your family worried for no reason."

Bill nodded, slowly. He couldn’t imagine what his mother would do, if she got wind of anything like this. "You’ll get in touch with me, if anything –"

"Nothing will happen." Sirius pulled his wand. "Got to get home and work. Thanks for the drink."

"You paid for the –" Bill began, but he didn’t bother finishing.

Sirius had already Disapparated.

Chapter Thirteen

~*~

The Wolfsbane Potion

A/N: Thanks to Jedi Boadicea for being so Sirius, and for helping us out with B.A.M. (that’s Black Anger Management).

~*~

Standing in his bedroom window, Sirius stared down into the back garden of Lupin Lodge, turning a roll of parchment over and over, in his hands. Remus was in the garden, working steadily in the dirt, hunched over a patch of small, green shoots. The pale light of the overcast sun glinted on his greying hair, which fell in his eyes as he pulled up weeds and smoothed down soil. He settled back on his knees eventually, and surveyed his work with a peaceful smile, as if nothing was awry in the world. He looked perfectly content and free from fear.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04