Chapter 23 – Growing Pains
History of the World Volume XXIII Chapter 37 The Rule of Turpin – Managing Impatience of the Masses
Change is always possible if slow in any bureaucracy. Faith that change is possible within the given system is essential to stability and satisfaction among the general populace. Peaceful avenues of political expression and suggestion are not only tolerated but to an extent encouraged in the successful, enduring empire. Advocates of change only become militant when the prospect of meaningful transformation becomes hopeless to them.
Unlike her husband, Lily had not often visited Albus Dumbledore’s office. It had been years since she sat in one of his comfortable armchairs and met the man’s always sharp blue eyes in person. In her handful of visits she had never sat so stiffly, never with so many swirling conflicted emotions toward the man.
“It is good to see both of you alive and well,” Albus said. “I’m sure you have questions, so I’ll save mine and allow you yours.”
“Thank you for finding our children and sending our daughter home.” Lily leaned forward in her chair. “I, we actually, want our son now.”
“Of course you do, you’ve been robbed of years; losing another day must sound like an untenable proposition. Unfortunately, this issue is larger than your family. More than a hundred families are wrapped up in this crime. I’ve arranged it so that everyone’s children can come home without the empire knowing or coming looking for them again. It requires patience, which is more than anyone has a right to ask of you or any parent in your situation. But I have to ask it.”
“Exactly how much patience do you expect?” James asked. “My mother seems to think you want us to wait until the spring. That seems an exceptionally long time.”
“It is the price of anonymity and safety. Your family will be whole again in a few short months, whole and secure. If you burst into the Class I school and reclaim your son today, your family will be exposed to the empire. Potentially you would be exposing all the others. Harry is safe in classes and will be home with you very soon.” Albus leaned forward his expression intense but sympathetic. His every meeting for the last several days had been with parents in varying stages of relief or shock or rage. He felt well prepared for whatever emotional storm or demands the Potters might bring.
“Of course you’re right,” Lily said abruptly. James seemed startled but didn’t interrupt her. “Oscasia has been collecting children for quite a long time. I’m sure she has ways of knowing when her system is being subverted. Our children were stolen from under our noses when we thought the empire didn’t even know they existed. Caution is appropriate here, but I hate it.”
“I’m sorry but the spring? That’s too long.” James stood and circled behind his chair, taking a moment to compose himself. He addressed Lily. “We discussed this. What about Harry? Everyone thinks Isobel is dead. It isn’t fair to let him grieve for his sister. I won’t treat him that way even if it is for his safety.”
Lily winced. She had grieved for two children who weren’t dead. Torturing her son with almost the same lie was unacceptable. “Does he think his sister is dead?” Lily asked. “We won’t have him suffer under that misconception. You’re going to have to make an exception for him if there is any chance that he does. We’ll deal with the consequences.”
Albus’ eyebrows rose and he nodded. “Of course, there aren’t so many sibling pairs in this process. Harry hasn’t been informed of his sister’s apparent death, and there is no reason to think that will change, but I can put some extra safeguards in to protect him from that erroneous news.”
Lily and James exchanged a long look in which they seemed to reach a silent accord. “We don’t like it, and I want an actual date when he’ll be home, but we can wait until it’s safe,” James said.
“Excellent.” Albus leaned back in his seat, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Now, I’d like to hear what happened to the both of you in Vietnam.”
James took Lily’s hand, allowing her to take the lead for this debriefing. She could tell Albus as little or as much about her ordeal as she was comfortable with. He wouldn’t betray her confidence for anything.
“James and the other Animagi escaped unscathed,” Lily replied. “I was attacked and cursed by a Reaper.”
Edgar, part-time squirrel and second in charge of the rebellion’s elite Animagus corp., warmed his hands by the fire. His commander sat directly across from him, shaggy black hair brushed forward into his eyes. The others had built their own fires and were far enough removed to allow a relatively private conversation between them which Edgar intended to take full advantage of. “So Commander, now that your friend is back and we don’t need to look for him, what’s our mission? The Reapers found us pretty fast hiding out a full continent from home. Are we still hiding?”
“I never liked the hiding plan. We’re going back on the offensive. We’ll see how they like being hunted. This is personal.” It had technically been personal since Derek’s death in their first encounter with the Emperor’s enforcers, but it was more so now. Sirius couldn’t tell Edgar what the Reapers had done to Lily, as James refused to go into detail, but he had been clear about one thing, their destruction was essential for her continued health and wellbeing. “You kill one and they come back as someone else. I think it might be best to capture one and figure out what makes it tick.”
“I like taking things apart and putting them back together.” Edgar rubbed his hands together as though eagerly anticipating the puzzle of a cursed enforcer. “How do we start?”
“We’re going to need a very good trap. Ideally, we would isolate our target from his friends and then dissect him in peace.” Sirius laced his fingers together and smiled at his lieutenant. “You’re good with traps. What do you think?”
“I’ve got some excellent runic snares that should thoroughly incapacitate our target, but we’ll need bait,” Edgar said.
“What do you mean? We have bait. You realize I’m at the top of their hit list?”
Saving Edgar from having to comment, an old gray post-owl fluttered from the sky and lit on Sirius’s knee. It thrust its letter-encumbered leg at him and hooted twice.
“I know that owl.” Edgar sat up straighter. “That’s Sheba, Moody’s owl.” All Sirius’s Animagi had spent at least some time with Alastor Moody. He taught most of them to transform, and those he hadn’t taught transformation, he’d taught other important, survival skills.
“So it is.” Sirius relieved Sheba of her cargo and offered her a drink of water. She clicked her beak as though he had offered to cut off her wings and flew away. The crotchety old owl would not eat or drink anything that she hadn’t foraged for herself. “Paranoid bird.”
“It’s nice to see that some things never change,” Edgar said. He found himself thinking almost wistfully of his time stuck on a mountain training with Moody. He probably wouldn’t be alive except for the old coot’s lessons.
Sirius tore into the letter and began reading. “Moody is sending us a new guy.” He passed the letter over to Edgar and waited for him to read it through.
“He isn’t even of age. He’s sixteen.” Edgar gnawed his lip and finished the brief letter. He couldn’t help thinking of Derek and how much more dangerous things had become lately. “Maybe we should ship him to one of the hiding groups.”
“Moody wouldn’t send us an Animagus unable to take care of himself, but this isn’t the best time to be breaking in a new recruit either,” Sirius said. “I’ll just have to take his measure when he arrives and decide whether to keep him.”
Bartholomew stretched and put away his paint brush. Across his studio, Isobel sat in the corner reading a novel from the library. Generations earlier, when the Empire declared all literature illegal, pleasure reading virtually disappeared as a pastime, but many of the older families still had a few novels hidden deep in their libraries. Isobel discovered a book of fairytales and thought they were true for most of the afternoon until he’d been forced to tell her what she’d been reading was made up, someone’s fantasy. She had been horrified at first. She knew literature was illegal. She had abandoned the novel and picked out a spell book to read instead. She had resisted her curiosity about the novel’s ending for nearly a half hour before surreptitiously switching the books back.
Less than a week in their household, and Isobel had managed to stay quite close to her grandfather’s side. She would tolerate her grandmother’s company and seemed to want to know her parents, though she couldn’t seem to find anything to say around them. “Are you ready for lunch poppet? Your parents will be back from their meeting and wondering where you are.”
Isobel carefully marked her place in the book and tucked it under her arm. Her brown hair was pulled back in a simple plait and she wore some loose fitting canvas trousers and shirt, the play uniform of most young wizards and witches. “I’m ready Grandpa.”
Downstairs, Lily and James were already seated and talking with some animation. He could hear Melinda still banging around in the kitchen. Normally his wife allowed him to help in the kitchen, even expected him to provide at least one of their meals a day, but since Isobel had attached herself to his hip, she had taken over all kitchen duties, seemingly determined to stay as busy as possible. Once back under her parents’ scrutiny, Isobel fidgeted with her hair and tugged at her shirt, obviously uncomfortable.
Bart wished he could banish nervousness and awkwardness with a wave of his wand, but after the calming draughts have worn off and the cheering charms have expired, the only way to become comfortable with someone was time and effort. “What are we having for lunch then? I smell capers. Do you like capers, poppet?”
“What’s a caper?” Isobel asked with a concerned look on her face.
“It’s a relish, a little salty but very tasty,” James supplied with a kind smile. He patted the seat next to him and motioned Isobel over. For half a second she had forgotten to fidget but she averted her eyes and began worrying her hem again. She quickly took a seat across the table from her parents, a nice safe three feet away.
“So, you were going to find out when we could get Harry. Can we get him tonight?” Isobel had thought she wanted her parents’ undivided attention but after four days of getting to know them, she just wanted the safe, comfortable relationship with her brother to buffer the undiluted scrutiny of so much family. “Please can we get him?”
“For your safety and his, we can’t take him home before the spring, tentatively April,” Lily said. “I’m sorry.”
“April? That’s months and months, almost half a year.” Isobel felt her neck getting hot and her face flushing with frustration. “Don’t you want him back? Don’t you care enough to go get him?” Isobel didn’t care if she sounded petulant or childish. They promised that they were going to bring Harry home too. They said soon, not in a few months. They are criminals, a voice in her head whispered insidiously, neglectful people who hadn’t even looked for their children. Isobel abandoned her seat and ran from the room.
“Let me,” Lily said. She gestured for Bart and James to stay as she went after her aggravated daughter. “Isobel, wait.” Lily didn’t catch up with her until they reached the second floor and her daughter’s new bedroom. She caught the door, holding it closed so that Isobel couldn’t fling it open and retreat inside.
“They didn’t even change our names!” Isobel shouted, rounding on her mother. “You could have found us if you’d looked at all! You’re a horrible mother!”
Lily stepped backwards, her heart thudding painfully at the angry accusations. She felt tears building, but choked them down. “We’ve made mistakes, but we love you and your brother. Now come downstairs and eat your lunch like a member of this family. And we will explain why we’re having to wait so long.”
“I want to go to bed. I’m not hungry.” Isobel jerked open her now unblocked bedroom door and disappeared behind it. The lock’s quiet click dismissed her mother succinctly.
Lily stared at the closed door. She knew over a dozen charms to unlock such a simple unwarded barrier, but she didn’t dare use one. She couldn’t face the fury of her nine year old again so soon. The child waxed hot and cold, from affection, to apprehension, to anger so quickly sometimes that Lily felt dizzy. A good parent shouldn’t let her child throw a tantrum and scream at her mother and hide behind locked doors. Good parents also didn’t misplace their children for years at a time.
A moment before she could sink to the floor and just sob, a hand was on her shoulder. Bartholomew fixed her with his kind grey eyes and guided her to a chair. “She doesn’t mean it. She’s confused and disappointed. James told me he hated me a couple of times before he finished growing up. This is all a huge adjustment for her, for all of us. Why don’t we just leave her alone to cool off for now? She’ll get hungry soon enough and we can address the tantrum with cooler heads all around.”
“She loves you,” Lily choked, unreasonably jealous of her father-in-law’s easy, comfortable relationship with her daughter. “You don’t scare her or make her angry. Why is it easy for her to love you?”
“I don’t know.” Bart patted Lily’s back and let her lean her head on his shoulder. “Let’s go down and eat our lunch while it’s warm. Come on, before James and Melinda head up here to help too.”
A simple compass spun lazily in the hand of one very road weary George Weasley. The rusty needle finally settled on a direction and George trudged off into the trees on another new trajectory. The compass was magically calibrated to lead him to a rendezvous with one Sirius Black, his next contact in the rebellion. Unfortunately, it had been calibrated by Moody to lead him on a circuitous route designed to throw off anyone who might be ridiculous enough to be following him.
It wasn’t that George hadn’t expected some paranoia from his mentor/master but a week’s wandering was just excessive. If he weren’t magically bound to Moody’s command to follow the damn compass, he’d have given it up as a bad job days ago. George paused and frowned. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t think of anything to do as an alternative to Moody’s directions. He wanted to save his brother but had no way to even find him. At least once he was active in the rebellion he could request to work with people focused on opposing the Reapers.
An organization made exclusively of volunteers, surely the rebellion allowed new recruits some say in their area of focus. Stepping into a clearing, George froze--the compass in his robe pocket had begun to thrum gently.
Biting back the inclination to call a hello, George pulled out his wand and waited for something to happen. “Shit,” he whispered. A rather large black dog materialized out of the shadows. For a moment he thought it was a wolf, but his muzzle was too round and his proportions weren’t quite right for that. “Good dog.”
The woods had become unnaturally still, and another animal emerged, this time a snowy spotted cougar. George could see flickers of other creatures nearby, a hawk in the trees, a scurrying squirrel, a ruffled owl. Animagi, he realized in a rush. Moody sent me to other Animagi.
“I’m George,” he said. Hoping his instincts were correct, he waved. “If one of you is who I think you are, I have a letter here from Moody. I’m his latest apprentice.”
Half-expecting the cougar to hiss then attack, George exhaled in relief when the black dog shimmered and stepped forward as a tall and graceful, dark-haired man. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you George Weasley, our newest recruit. I’m Sirius Black, your commanding officer. George, are you an Animagus?”
“Yes sir,” George answered. “Moody taught me.”
The animals and birds that he had only glimpsed came forward. They changed forms becoming men and women with a practiced ease that boggled George’s mind. Changing still left him breathless and took a few minutes sometimes.
“Introductions all around then,” Sirius said. “Edgar, why don’t you get us started. He’s your other officer, my number two.”
“Edgar Lewis, squirrel Animagus.” The young, slightly buck-toothed private shook George’s hand warmly and pushed one of the girls forward.
“Dana Fields, barn owl Animagus.” She waved and the procession continued until the lot of them had given him a name and an associated animal form.
Feeling overwhelmed, George tried to recite back some of the names and animal forms mentally, but it was hopeless, he was never going to remember half of them. Sirius came forward and surveyed him critically as though trying to gauge him.
“Ten galleons on him being a fox,” one of the Animagi whose name had already slipped George’s mind announced.
“Three galleons on some kind of reptile--we need a reptile,’ Edgar said.
“Not a reptile, maybe a cat, a little ginger tabby,” Shelia, the cougar, said. “I’ll put a galleon on something feline.”
Were they betting on what his Animagus form would be then? George wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. Some of their ideas were, bizarre. He was tempted to just announce his form and put a stop to the wagering, but he kept his mouth shut. Would they think less of his animal form? Skunks weren’t exactly a well-loved mammal. Would he be of any use to them? They had smaller and larger Animagi, more intimidating Animagi, more agile and more versatile transformations at their disposal.
A smirk crossed Sirius’s face and he scratched his chin. “As our new comrade hasn’t offered to enlighten us, I have to wonder if it’s an embarrassing form. You wouldn’t happen to be a nutria?”
He wasn’t embarrassed, George thought with a touch of indignation, his earlier insecurity forgotten. “I’m a skunk, little black and white carnivore with scent glands to be feared.”
A smattering of polite applause and a few laughs greeted this announcement. Shelia laughed the loudest, “Finally, another carnivore.”
“What now?” George asked. He hadn’t expected the rebels to be overly regimented, but this pack of laughing shape-shifters were far more casual that he had anticipated. “Do we have orders?”
“We have rough guidelines. You need to be briefed and debriefed, but tonight we’re welcoming you to our fraternity. Transform for us and let us see your other face.” Sirius rested his hands on his hips and smiled encouragement at the very young man Moody had sent him. “Show us and let’s get acquainted.”
George nodded, determined not to fail this first test. He dropped to one knee and let a hand touch the ground. Transforming was easier when he started with a lower stance closer to the posture of his goal form. He pushed himself toward the shape and mind of his other self. Almost seamlessly, his perception shifted with his body, and after a few seconds’ disorientation he stood on all four in front of his commander. They were all staring at him, some even applauded again. George had to bite back the instinct to spray in stressful situations. Somehow he didn’t think Sirius’ fraternity would appreciate a dose of skunk musk.
His new nose could smell their animal halves on them, and their transformations were not a surprise to him as they happened though he didn’t remember the names that went to all the critters. The black dog howled and jogged into the woods; his pack, including their newest member, followed him.
Rising early on Saturday was typically a lonely start to the day, but Hermione didn’t mind eating alone. The rolls of parchment, essays on every topic she cared to study, were better company than most of her classmates. She could read about people who understood the world, who agreed with many of her ideals, and who promised that change was possible if enough people could just start to understand.
Pushing open the doors to the Great Hall, Hermione wasn’t surprised to find the normally sparsely populated tables completely devoid of wizarding life. After the Halloween party everyone was having a lie in. Sporting a superior, satisfied smile, she nabbed a plate of toast and eggs and thick red strawberry jam. Hermione ate her breakfast and read her essays, but it was harder to stay focused without the quiet chatter of other children annoying her.
In the cavernous silence, she couldn’t eat her plentiful breakfast without thinking of home and her family and the breakfasts they would partake in. Her father would be roasting up something from the traps, maybe a rabbit or a couple of squirrels. Her aunt June always started the day with some boiled oats if she could get her hands on them, never sugared, never thickened with milk, but fresh, tender oats.
Hermione took another bite of jam slathered toast. She absolutely loved jam. It was a luxury she had never experienced before the wizards had taken her. Her father would undoubtedly like jam. She tried to imagine sharing the sweet treat with him while they crouched around their fire. But the image wouldn’t come. Her father wouldn’t want the wizard’s food. How would he feel about his witchy daughter? He wouldn’t even recognize her on the street in her wizard robes and her fleshed out cheeks. She didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. The gaunt-faced Muggle she had always been no longer existed.
The words of the essay blurred behind a film of unshed tears but Hermione blinked them away. She had decided to become a witch, the best witch possible, a witch with enough power and influence to help her family in ways a Muggle girl never could. To do that, she had to read, to know, to be better than everyone else--in other words, she needed to study not cry through her meals.
Students’ voices interrupted her silent morning, but they weren’t coming from the dorms’ route to the great hall. Instead they seemed to be entering from an alcove to a primary transportation circle. Hermione glared, recognizing the chatterboxes easily.
“I can’t believe we did that,” Draco said.
“It was foolish but exciting. How will we ever top it next Halloween?” Lisa asked.
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m attending the boring school party next year. Living to graduate is high on my priority list,” Harry said. “And could we keep it down. I’d rather not announce to any potential listeners what we were up to last night.”
“Fine, fine, I’m going to get some sleep boys. See you later.”
Harry and Draco entered the great hall without Lisa. Draco scanned the virtually empty room and scowled at Hermione. He nabbed a couple of pastries from the breakfast spread and bid Harry farewell, apparently unwilling to eat with the mad-Muggle as he called her when he thought she couldn’t hear.
Harry joined her with a tired but happy smile. His robes were a mess, torn and mud streaked. “Morning Hermione, did you have a good Halloween?”
“I attended the obnoxious Halloween party, of course it wasn’t good. What on Earth did you and those two get up to? You look like you wrestled a troll.” Hermione spat the word two as though it tasted bitter.
“We went to see something and ended up breaking a couple of laws, so I can’t tell you. I promised my partners in crime never to repeat what happened.” Harry began shovelling some eggs and bacon down.
Hermione frowned and stared at her friend, inordinately disturbed by his statement. How could he be so casually reckless with his future? He was her first friend, the first of the army of wizards she intended to educate on what was wrong with the world. How dare he waste his chance to matter? Not only that, he had a sister to think about, to protect. “You are an ass. Whatever you did, it can’t be worth risking your chance to finish school. Your little sister isn’t going to get a chance to study at the class I level and you’re willing to risk your chance on a stupid Halloween adventure? What would Isobel think if you got declassified? Would she be impressed with you, do you think?”
Harry’s bright green eyes met hers, and he set his silverware down. “It was stupid, and I’m not proud of putting myself in that situation. But the law we broke, I would do it again if faced with the same choice.” He nodded toward the stack of essays she had taken to breakfast. “Do you have any reading on werewolves? Not the stuff the empire publishes, I want to read something true.”
Werewolves? Hermione’s eyes widened and she bit on her lip to stop herself asking for more information. Last night had been a full moon. “Just one question, you didn’t get bitten?”
Harry smiled and shook his head. “No, no one was bitten, but werewolves aren’t what the empire says they are, and I want to know the truth.”
Accepting that the Empire could and did lie was a large step toward understanding what was wrong with the world. Hermione’s anger at Harry and his adventure evaporated in a flush of happiness. She knew he would understand eventually. “I can find you something. Give me a few days.”
Summary: A different sort of alternate universe... It is a world under the thumb of an ancient emperor. Muggle society has been oppressed beyond recognition. Wizards rule over all, their only laws defined by power. This is the story of a rebellion, a family, a traitor, and the long road that leads home at last.