“I, too, suspected Charlie had a hand in this mess,” Lupin confided from the nook he had taken to since Gaia had possessed Harry.
Ginny’s body had long since been taken to the Burrow where a security team of six Order members, not including the Weasley’s, kept a vigilant watch on her.
“You think that Voldemort used Muggle mind control on him?” Mad-Eye asked in a gruff tone.
“Not likely,” Lupin responded. “However it is clear that he is currently under a form of mind control that neither Ginny nor Gaia could understand.”
“So he didn’t commit the murder of Igor Karkaroff?” Tonks inquired with a relieved look in Bill Weasley’s direction.
“I do not believe his actions were of his own freewill,” Lupin added for clarification.
“Percy tried to clue us in with all that sneezing he did at the trial,” George said, casting Bill an upset look.
“No good can come from dwelling on that which we can not change,” Lupin told George in a somewhat consolatory manner.
“Ginny knew,” George cut in, his features hardened by the fact that Ginny had hidden Percy’s true thoughts from her family.
“She couldn’t very well point Charlie out as the murderer in the middle of the Ministry,” Hermione cut in logically.
“Ron knew as well,” Harry mentioned, almost as an afterthought.
“He must have,” Lupin nodded in agreement. “Every member of the Weasley family who worked out the fact that Charlie is under some form of mind control has, in some way or another, been kidnapped.”
“Do you mean to say that there is a traitor amongst us?” Hermione cut in.
“There must be,” Lupin responded after pondering her words over.
“Even now?” Harry asked.
Through narrowed eyes he studied the people in the room. There were Hermione, Bill, and George, none of whom could be the traitor. Tonks was in such a fit over Charlie that he sincerely doubted she could be the traitor. Mad-Eye was, as always, shifty and ill-at-ease, but not more than the usual. That left Lupin, could he be working with Gaia? Even that didn’t sit well with Harry. Deep down inside, Harry had an inkling that Gaia was telling the truth when she proclaimed her innocence.
“I doubt that the traitor has crept so deeply into our ranks as to be amongst us right now,” Lupin said, casting Harry a furtive gaze that lasted an uncomfortably long time.
“The important thing now is to save Ginny before she becomes lost,” Bill’s voice effectively severed the contact between Harry and Lupin.
“All we know is that there is something in these Memoirs that Gaia wants you to see,” Lupin remarked, gazing down at the legacy that he held in his hands, “but where to start?”
“Professor, may I assume you’ve been through all the memories in the Memoirs?” Hermione asked timidly.
“I have, many times,” Lupin agreed.
“Is there anything that stands out?” Tonks queried.
“Too much,” Lupin answered, “but I can think of nothing that can help us in our quest to find Ginny.”
“Looking through all those memories one-by-one will take too long,” George groaned.
“Even if we come across the right thing, how will we know?” Bill complained.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Hermione interjected. Once she had everyone’s undivided attention she continued. “The memory we are looking for must be blatantly obvious, after all, Gaia wants Harry to come to her.”
”There are numerous memories with Gaia in it,” Lupin pointed out.
“May I assume you’ve been through them all, several times?” Hermione asked.
Tonks looked stoically at Hermione without as much as a blink.
“I have,” Lupin answered, shooting a longing look Tonks’ way.
“All of them?” Hermione continued.
“Yes,” Lupin replied calmly.
“All of them?” Hermione reiterated.
“Yes,” he insisted.
“I heard it was you who found the body of Gaia,” she said meekly.
Lupin looked taken aback. “It was.”
“And…did you…that is to say…did you put that memory in the Memoirs?” Hermione stumbled through the question.
“I did,” he nodded stiffly.
“Would I be wrong in assuming you haven’t revisited that particular memory?”
“You would not,” Lupin admitted. After another moment he opened the Memoirs and shuffled through until the last few pages. “Here it is,” he informed them.
“How can Gaia know about that memory?” Tonks asked, unsure of Hermione’s logic.
“Because she wasn’t really dead,” Lupin fielded the question, “her death was faked.”
“Perhaps Harry can tell us why?” Hermione suggested.
“How can I do that?” Harry exclaimed in surprise.
“Obviously there is something in that memory that Gaia wants you to see,” Hermione stated simply, as though speaking to an infant.
“I find that I must agree with Ms. Granger,” Lupin added, looking excited at the prospect. “Would you mind terribly if I joined you?”
After a deep breath, Harry nodded his assent to Lupin and they both approached the Memoirs, wands at the ready.
“We’ll be about ten minutes,” Lupin informed the rest before looking at Harry. “Ready?”
They both tapped the image of the disheartened werewolf that was mopping in the corner of the page with their respective wands. Dutifully, a screen unfurled from the center of the page and Harry and Lupin leaned forward, falling face first into oblivion for a full minute before the world righted itself and Harry landed deftly on his feet, Lupin at his side.
It was nighttime in the memory. Hazy clouds of rolling fog descended upon them in waves as thick as the maritime air that created it. Harry spotted a shadow creeping up the path ahead of them towards an unusual lighthouse that shone like a beacon in the night and deftly followed. It was difficult to see where he was going with the moon so thoroughly covered by the dense, ominously rumbling clouds but at last they arrived at a lighted pathway that lead directly to the entrance of the lighthouse. The figure of a much younger Lupin was now fully illuminated by the incandescent glow around them. He walked past the front door to a very battered looking old wall that looked as though a strong wind could fell it and continued to walk right through the wall.
“Go ahead,” the older Lupin whispered in his ear, nudging him towards the wall that the younger Lupin had stepped through.
Taking a deep breath Harry braced himself for the horror that would be on the other side of the wall and walked into it. Expecting to see grotesque images of Voldemort’s wrath, he was shocked instead to find a palatial estate richly decorated in deep burgundy and gold ornaments. Not pausing to take in the grandeur, young Lupin forced Harry to keep a brisk pace in one room and out the other in what seemed to be an endless maze. Every now and again Harry had the feeling that they were walking through a room that they had already been through, but dismissed the notion because it appeared that young Lupin knew exactly where he was headed. After they had walked through no less than ten separate rooms, the young version of Lupin stopped suddenly in the center of the third room they had entered and waited.
Mere seconds passed until the floor fell from under the feet of young Lupin and he fell, rather calmly, into the hole that had just been created in the center of the room. Harry realized all at once that they were in the house that Ginny had placed in his dreams, and apparently Lupin knew how to crack the code and get into the secret room whatever room he desired. Without a second thought or a backwards glance at his companion, Harry jumped into the hole in the floor desperate to see the destination of the young Lupin. Instead of falling down, Harry felt as though he was falling up. He twirled and spun until he felt he could no longer identify his right hand from his left and then he crashed hard on the floor and lay sprawled for a full minute. It was not until the older Lupin picked him up and set him back on his feet that Harry’s world was once again justified and directions regained their meaning.
“Burglar destabilizer,” the older Lupin informed him with a reproving glare at the ceiling above them where an ominous cloud continued to swirl threateningly in the center.
Instead of responding, Harry quickly spotted the young Lupin working a latch on one of the twenty multi-colored doors that the room offered and ran to join him. After a brief second or two, the young Lupin had picked the lock and pulled the door wide open. Stepping through, he slammed the door shut behind him and Harry cursed loudly in frustration. He and the older Lupin were still trapped in the room full of doors when the doors shuffled their colors and traded keyholes, locks, and knobs.
“How are we ever going to get out of here?” Harry asked feeling frustrated beyond belief.
“We’re not,” the older Lupin answered.
Before Harry had the chance to question why, the young Lupin fell from the ceiling and reappeared in the center of the room.
“I miscounted the doors,” the older Lupin told Harry. “It was the thirteenth door down, not the eleventh that I incorrectly opened.”
Grateful that he had not hazarded this memory alone, Harry waited patiently until the young Lupin recounted and opened the correct door. This time, he did not slam the door, perhaps fearing that he had miscounted yet again.
“After you,” the older Lupin said, and Harry swiftly followed the younger version.
The door slammed shut behind them and before Harry could give it another thought fire exploded before them, engulfed the room in its frenzied furor.
“Lay down,” the old Lupin commanded, throwing himself to the floor.
Harry hastily followed suit and spotted the young Lupin from the corner of his eye lying in the center of the room fully submerged in flames. The fire was so intense that his clothing clung to his sweat drenched body.
“Just an illusion,” the Lupin by his side reassured him as the younger version cried out in pain.
Harry sincerely hoped that it was as he flattened himself further into the ground. Soon the fire had worked its way to them and, to Harry’s astonishment, he felt nothing more than a cool prickling sensation. Once the room was entirely enflamed, floo power fell from the ceiling and the flames sparked with green embers that snaked their way to the young Lupin and swallowed him into the floor. Seconds later, the floor rumbled beneath Harry and green flames seemed to capture and pull him down into the floor. Harry would have given into his inclination to panic if it were not for the Lupin besides him who continued to look as though they were on a mildly exciting field trip.
Suddenly they emerged lying on the floor of a new room. Harry was blinded by white: White light, white furniture, white ceiling, and white floor. Dizzy, Harry closed his eyes to regain his bearings, but before he was able to do so a howl of pain had him jumping to his feet to remove himself from danger. After steadying himself, Harry noticed that the young Lupin was clinging to the bloody body of a woman with the lightest porcelain skin and darkest black hair he had ever seen, the contrast was stunning. Old Lupin stood behind the younger version looking down at the woman in a distraught manner not unlike the one his counterpart wore.
Harry was loath to intrude on the mourning of either Lupin and cast his restless eyes to the ceiling. Horrified, Harry saw a pair of eyes staring down at him. They were the brightest sapphire blue eyes and Harry remembered them instantly.
Before he could so much as make a peep, a man with dirty blond hair and pale skin jumped down from the ceiling. It was all that Harry could do to scamper out of his way to avoid being crushed, but the man didn’t notice him at all. This was the second time that Harry had found himself in this man’s company and again he was at a loss to stop him. Hearing the intrusion, the young Lupin looked up from his spot of mourning, his eyes fixed upon the intruder.
The sapphire-eyed man looked stunned to see that he had company, only then did Harry notice that the man was covered in blood. Before Harry or the young Lupin could come to any conclusion the man blotted into a fireplace filled to the brim with white flames. Roaring with rage, the young Lupin tore after him with Harry and the older Lupin hot on their heels. A few fireplaces later, they fell into the center of the room with the twenty doors. One door lay open and Harry, correctly assuming that they had taken that path, continued his pursuit. Ten rooms later, Harry and the older Lupin had significantly closed the gap between them and their quarry.
Harry recognized the expanse of wall that the sapphire-eyed man disappeared through as the exit of the house and they all continued to give chase. Once they were on the opposite side of the wall, however, the young Lupin stopped. Harry wanted to continue running after the sapphire-eyed man and would have if the older Lupin had not held him back, pointing to the younger version of himself. As he had seen him do once before, the young Lupin, struck by a beam from the full moon, began to painfully transform into a werewolf. Once the transformation was complete, the werewolf took off in the same direction that the sapphire-eyed man had run. The memory, however, became hazy and Harry knew that the werewolf had remembered nothing of the events that unfolded afterward.
“I suspect I may have killed him,” Lupin confided, wearing an expression of deep remorse. “They say his body was mutilated beyond recognition.”
“No!” Harry exclaimed, feeling the book trying to eject them. “He’s alive! That’s the man I saw torturing Dean’s father!”
Lupin gave him a scrutinizing glare. “Are you certain?” he shouted over the whooshing noise that the book made as it transported them out of the memory.
“Positive!” Harry screamed back, desperate to be heard over the clamor. “Who is he?”
Lupin raised his wand over his head, but stopped at Harry’s question. “It’s Regulus,” he answered over the wind that was now sweeping them upwards, “Regulus Black.”
Harry grabbed Lupin’s arm and raised his own wand over his head. Finally, he shouted, “Evanesco!” and the Memoirs happily spat them back out into the present where a crowd of people anxiously awaited their return, looking as though they had been gone no more than ten minutes.
In Adversity We Know Our Friends by Wise Owl
Chapter Notes: Gaia left Harry a not so simple task in the last chapter...let's see if he can sort the pieces of the puzzle and save Ginny, shall we?