11: The Worst Kind of Hypocrite
Nymphadora Tonks stared absently at the dull grey ceiling of the Level Five reception at the Feral Institute and wished fervently that she could be anywhere else but where she was.
Almost fifteen minutes had passed since Remus had disappeared once more up into the mysterious Level Six in the company of Alexander Aylward “ fifteen Merlin-cursed, everlasting minutes that seemed to drag with vicious intent so that the fears and worries that filled her mind for Remus’ safety had plenty of time to multiply and swirl in the recesses of her skull. They had met, as usual, at the Three Broomsticks on the Sunday a fortnight following their last adventure inside the Feral Institute and, once she had dragged a vow from him to take care, and he had “ eventually “ dragged a concession from her that he could indeed look after himself and that she could safely allow him out of her sight in spite of the acknowledged dangers, they had apparated to the pretty station of the Yorkshire steam train and set out for the Institute once more.
And here she was again, stuck in a grey and silent room worrying herself sick over a friend who had once again placed himself in the hands of people who they knew for a fact wanted to experiment on him.
Not to mention she was bored.
She also couldn’t help but wonder if Felisha had mentioned something in regards to her “ ahem - search for the toilet for unlike on her previous encounter, she had not been left alone since her arrival. Zelia and Dolph had appeared briefly, deep in some dull conversation regarding the properties of Wolfsbane potion and then Cymone had appeared with a flighty smile and settled down at her desk with a bob of her dyed red head and a flick of badly applied silver nail polished fingers to do paperwork. And she showed no sign of running out of ink anytime soon.
Which left Tonks rather starved for entertainment.
She had been desperately anxious not to waste this opportunity to do a more detailed search of Rebekah’s office. A Pensieve search of her memory was out of the questions “ one could not turn the pages of a remembered diary or open a remembered drawer; but given the revelations just a few brief sentences had provided, she had really wanted a chance to get a better look at the mysterious diary, perhaps establish once and for all if it was Rebekah Goldstein’s as well as conducting a thorough search for other evidence. But with Cymone settled in state at her messy desk beside the office door, not even the well-worn toilet trick seemed likely to get a result.
Bloody hell. She was an Auror. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She was a creature of action, of energy! She was not built to sit and wait and wait and wait and wait…
“Bother!”
Her head shot up. For Cymone had come to her feet.
“Zelia,” the little woman declared, flourishing a piece of paper. “She never signs anything. She always says that signatures steal a portion of your soul. I’ve been saying for ages that we should get her an ink stamp.” She shook her head as Tonks gave an obligatory chuckle. “I don’t suppose you saw where she and Dolph went, did you?”
As it happened, Tonks had seen exactly where they’d gone. She’d watched as Zelia and Dolph had vanished up the right hand corridor, talking about fetching something from her lab.
But that was not the entertaining answer.
Adopting her best vapidly Undine-ish look, Tonks smiled with mindless cheer. “Downstairs,” she replied with shameless sincerity. “To talk to the residents, I think she said.”
Cymone huffed her cheeks in gerbil-like annoyance. “Typical. Are you all right here for a few minutes?”
“Fine!” The utter innocence of the word was frankly impressive considering that Tonks’ brain was currently chanting bugger off, bugger off with fervent enthusiasm. “I’m fine.” She flourished her clipboard. “I have reading to do if I get bored.”
“If you’re sure…” Cymone swept the offending papers off her desk. “I won’t be long.”
“Oh, don’t hurry on my account!” This time, the sincerity was not faked. Cymone smiled as she pulled the lift grill closed. A moment later, she sank out of sight.
Tonks was on her feet in an instant. She hadn’t bought herself long, she knew that, but even a quick look at that diary…
She reached for the door-handle of Rebekah’s office…
“Still looking for the toilet?”
Tonks jumped violently at the unexpected voice, her heart suddenly racing. She turned.
Felisha Hathaway was staring at her from the shadows of the nearest arch. But this time, the researcher did not look particularly friendly. Her arms were crossed and her forehead creased into a frown. She raised an eyebrow slowly.
And Tonks was at once sure that there would be no bluffing her way out of this one.
“I knew it,” Felisha said softly, her eyes fixed upon Tonks as though to pin her in place. “I was suspicious when I caught you last time but now I’m sure. You’re investigating us, aren’t you? You’re snooping around.”
Uh oh. I’m so doomed.
Tonks managed a wan smile. “What makes you say that?” she exclaimed with limp heartiness, her stomach twisting itself into knots. Oh, don’t turn us in, you have no idea what’s at stake…
Felisha’s expression wavered a little. “Well, that’s twice I’ve caught you at that door,” she replied with a slight shrug. “Unless you’ve caught a quick case of amnesia, you can’t have mistaken it for the toilet again. And besides…” She smiled slightly. “I knew Remus wouldn’t have chosen an assistant as apparently mindless as you without good reason. You aren’t as bubble-brained as you behave, are you?”
Several options flitted through Tonks’ mind; flight, denial, Undine-esque blankness. But slightly to her own surprise, what emerged from her lips when they parted was honesty.
“That would be hard,” she admitted wryly.
Felisha grinned outright, her severe expression melting and Tonks’ felt the tight knot that had seized her stomach loosen slightly. Perhaps she wouldn’t turn her in…
“True,” she replied candidly, her features growing suddenly more serious. “Normal procedure would be to call Security, you know. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”
The knot flexed. “Is that what you’re going to do?”
“No.” Felisha smiled gently. “Because you’re here with Remus and he must know about you because he’s not so dim as to be taken in by blank smiles and brainless cheerfulness. So he must trust you. And I trust Remus.”
Tonks smiled in spite of herself. “He’s a good man to trust.”
Felisha nodded wordlessly. Her face was pale. She looked like a woman on the verge of a plunge from the deep end. “You know something’s rotten here,” she said suddenly, her voice low as her eyes darted anxiously up and down the empty corridors. “That’s why you keep trying to get into that office. You suspect Rebekah.”
Tonks pressed her lips together but said nothing. But her silence was apparently enough of an affirmative for Felisha.
“Well, I think you’re right,” she continued, her voice now little more than a whisper. “And I think that you, me and Remus really need to have a talk…”
* * *
“Pointless!”
Rebekah Goldstein resealed the entrance to the Level Six lift with an unnecessarily harsh tap of her wand and wheeled on Remus with a look in her eye that could most kindly be described as venomous. “It seems young Abel must have really despised your father, professor, to have so violent a reaction on his every encounter with you.” She glared outright. “Unfortunately, it also means that any attempt at further research in your presence is likely to be as pointless as today. As long as he thinks you are your father, he will have none of you.”
Remus fought down a ridiculous urge to apologise for a quirk of genetics over which he had had no control. He had returned to the Institute after the passing of the requested fortnight to find - both his relief and disconcertion - no real sign that anything had changed. The now familiar routine had been observed, an escort from Cymone, an anxious and edgy Tonks left in the reception area, a trip up to Level Six and a psychotic encounter with an agitated Abraham Kane that had ended in sedation and a highly irritated Head of the Institute. Quite what tests Rebekah had intended he had been unable to discover but their thwarting was clearly a source of some aggravation.
In spite of his protests to Tonks on the train, Remus had found himself observing Rebekah Goldstein in an attempt to divine any suspicious behaviour. Thus far he had seen nothing he had not come to expect from her “ her cold rudeness, her brusqueness, her unconcealed dislike of him, but there was nothing about her that outright screamed Death Eater. After all, if disliking him were a mark of evil, most of the wizarding world would be passionate supporters of Voldemort.
He half-opened his mouth, intending to offer a mild reply, but before he could speak, the wall to his right shimmered again and Croll appeared out of the lift, grasping an empty vial in one hand and his wand in the other.
“He’s out cold,” he stated without preamble. “Say what you will about Zelia’s strange beliefs, but she certainly knows how to brew a good sedative.”
Rebekah’s lips quirked. “Alexander is standing guard?”
“He is.” Croll resealed the lift with a tap as irritable as Rebekah’s before sheathing his wand in the pocket of his clinical robes. “With his usual verve and infectious enthusiasm of course.” His heavy eyebrows lifted slightly as his gaze fixed on Remus. “Our mild mannered professor here certainly seems to know how to make and impact,” he added with a smirk. “One glance and we have a rioting feral on our hands.”
Rebekah looked rather less amused. “A rioting feral that has yet again delayed our research,” she replied acidly. The smirk was wiped from Croll’s face in an instant. “Talk to Zelia. See if she can brew us a calming draft of some kind. I do not like the thought of our subject being medicated during the tests but given the strength of his feelings towards the professor, I can’t see another alternative.”
She shot Remus another icy look. Prudence would have suggested silence but Remus was not feeling particularly prudent.
“It is unfortunate,” he offered mildly. “If I may ask “ what tests were you planning to run?”
Rebekah’s expression darkened, if possible, even further. “You may not ask.”
Remus felt the prickle of profound annoyance. “If I am to be involved in these tests, I think I have the right to know what they are.”
She glowered at him. “This is my project.”
“And I am involved.”
“At my invitation.”
“Exactly.” Remus was proud that he managed to keep his voice so level, especially given that he was annoyingly aware of the spreading smirk of Arcadius Croll to his right. “You invited me here. But all you have done so far is restrict my movements and snap at me.” He took a deep breath, aware of risky-ness of the subject he was about to broach with the already annoyed researcher. “For example, after meeting Dolph Greymoor, I would be interested to go downstairs and talk with some of the other residents…”
He knew instantly that he had made a mistake. “Do you think you are here for fun?” Rebekah’s voice was utter acid, her shoulders locked with instant cold fury. “That we should welcome you with open arms and give you the grand tour of our premises?” He heard Croll chuckle coldly at the remark. “You are here, professor, to assist in my experiments. Do not delude yourself that I asked you here as some kind of equal. You are here as a glorified stimulant for my test subject and nothing more.”
Well, at least she was finally being honest with him. “You still wanted my help.”
Rebekah’s eyes were daggers. “I do not need your help.”
“Then why do you keep asking me back?”
She stared at him, glacial and angry. “I’m starting to wonder.”
To his right, Croll folded his arms with an even broader smirk. Clearly this was his idea of classic entertainment.
Suddenly, Remus was tired. Tired of Rebekah and her rudeness, tired of Croll of his sneers, tired of continually having to pretend he could stand spending more than a few minutes in these people’s company. And he was tired of being the only one who didn’t say exactly what he thought of those around him.
Time to get to the point.
“For someone who makes her livelihood researching here,” he remarked almost conversationally. “You don’t like werewolves very much, do you Rebekah?”
To his slight surprise, she reacted to his frankness with a cool chuckle. “I like werewolves perfectly well, Professor,” she retorted evenly. “I just don’t like you.”
Remus felt his jaw harden. “You don’t know me.”
Her eyes seemed to gleam with hidden depths and icy fury. “I know enough. I know that a werewolf who has twice endangered the lives of innocent children has no right to walk free, let alone to still be called Professor.” Her voice rose sharply. “After what you did three years ago, running loose and unfettered on the grounds where any child could have crossed your path and yet they take you back! And again before Christmas, tempting a feral into a Great Hall packed with children and somehow still, they keep you on! Other werewolves who’ve done less are now destined to spend their lives within these walls! It’s a disgrace to the wizarding world that they even allowed you within a hundred miles of Hogwarts!”
Now we’re getting somewhere. Remus stared at her, stared at her furious face, at her flashing eyes and inside, finally, something clicked.
Any child… Goldstein…
Abruptly, several things came sharply into focus. The personal nature of her hatred, her disdainful use of his title and of course, that was why she had seemed so familiar on their first encounter “ he could not believe he had not seen it sooner. She looked just like…
“Anthony.” The name escaped his lips; Rebekah’s jaw hardened tightly. “Anthony Goldstein. Sixth year, a Ravenclaw Prefect. I teach your son.”
The cold descended over Rebekah like a wave. “You endanger my son.”
A protective parent. Remus sighed. He could understand her sentiments, of course he could “ what mother would want their child in such proximity to a creature who’d dangers she knew better than any other? He had had known that when he had resigned for the first time, had thought of it when he had tried to resign again the previous November “ he could share her fears probably more vividly than anyone else. But genuine as they were, her feelings certainly weren’t making his life here any easier.
And it also made it very difficult for him to argue his case. Because, deep down, he agreed with her.
“I take precautions,” he stated, with far more conviction than he felt. “I’m on Wolfsbane and…”
“Wolfsbane didn’t prevent you running loose on the grounds three years ago,” Rebekah snapped back. “Wolfsbane didn’t prevent you from fighting like an animal with Abraham Kane in the entrance hall at Hogwarts. Anthony was there, the foolish boy, he helped to move an injured professor and ended up jumping into the Hogwarts harbour to escape from the danger you put him in. He was still suffering with the chill he caught that day when he came home for Christmas!”
“Anthony was very brave…”
“Anthony was very stupid!” Rebekah interrupted harshly. “He has been taught the dangers of werewolves all his life. And yet he stayed that day, in the danger you created because for some reason, he likes you! I don’t know what you have done to twist his mind…”
Sympathy was rapidly waning into failing patience. “I twisted nothing. I merely teach…”
“That werewolves are kind and gentle and misunderstood?” At Rebekah’s sneering retaliation, Croll laughed outright. “You know even more than I do the lie in such words.”
That was painfully close to the mark. But Remus forced himself to defend his position. “I have never taught such foolishness…”
Rebekah’s voice was an outright snarl. “Then you should know better than anyone alive that you should not be allowed to teach at all.” Her eyes raked over him with disdain. “You are the worst kind of hypocrite, Professor Lupin. Now get out. I’m sick of the sight of you.”
And then with a sweep of her reddish-brown hair, Rebekah Goldstein turned on her heel and stalked away down the corridor leaving a speechless Remus alone with the cruelly smirking Croll. The medical officer watched the werewolf with a curl of his thin lips.
“Oops,” he remarked cheerfully. “I think you might have upset her.”
Remus had never in his life felt such a powerful urge to thump someone. But through sheer force of will, he managed to resist it.
All his doubts about Rebekah Goldstein the Death Eater came flooding back in a rush. Now that he knew the reason for her cold behaviour, could understand it well, in fact, he could no longer attribute it to the disdain of a servant of Voldemort as Tonks had. Oh yes, her reasons for inviting him were murky at best and there was still the matter of the Imperius curse she had cast on Kane. But her treatment of him was now clearly pegged out as the resentment of an angry mother to a man who had risked her son.
The justified resentment, a part of him whispered. Because you are the worst kind of hypocrite, Professor Lupin.
“You certainly are popular.” Croll’s sneering voice broke into his moody contemplations like a slither of grease. “Why, I was talking to an old friend of mine only the other day and he was telling me how well he thought of you. Why the terms in which he spoke glowed like a dragon’s maw. He seems almost as fond of you as dear Rebekah.” The smirk was practically splitting his cheeks. “You know him quite well, I believe. His name is Severus Snape.”
Remus stared. Well that explained a lot.
“He told me about your glorious school days and your many moments of triumph as a teacher,” Croll continued with mordant glee. “He near enough exploded trying to sing all your praises at once.” With a casual swagger, the tall man turned in the direction that Rebekah had stormed away. “Goodbye Professor,” he said softly. “And after that…” he jerked his head in the direction of his colleague’s retreat. “I suspect it is also good riddance.” He positively beamed. “I’d say have a nice life but I just wouldn’t mean it. And I’d say I’d hope never to see you again but…” He chuckled nastily as his eyes drifted towards the ceiling and the cells of Level Six above. “I suspect that won’t be true. I think you may get to visit the Resident’s Level after all.”
And then Croll too turned and strolled away. He was whistling.
Remus felt himself glare at Croll’s retreating back. Birds of a feather flocked together “ that was certainly true. But the question remained “ if Croll was a friend of Snape’s, who else was he flocking with?
“Remus!”
Remus jumped a good foot at the hiss of his name. He wheeled round and, to his surprise, found himself face to face with Tonks-as-Undine and Felisha Hathaway. Felisha was regarding him with some concern.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her face pale beneath her dark curls. At his bemused look, Tonks grimaced.
“We heard,” she stated grimly. “Felisha and I were talking in reception when Rebekah’s charming diatribe drifted out to us. We came a bit closer to find out what was wrong and…” She shrugged slightly but Remus could read the mixture of relief and anxiety across her changed features as her eyes met Remus’. “Well, I think our future invitations might have just been rescinded.”
Remus frowned wearily. “It was my fault. I should have just kept my mouth shut.”
Felisha’s brown eyes regarded him with frank astonishment. “I’m surprised you’d want to come back,” she said bluntly. “I’m not even sure I want to keep coming back anymore and I work here.”
Tonks gave Felisha a suddenly meaningful look. “Felisha, why don’t you tell Remus what you were telling me a few minutes ago? Like you guessed, I think he’ll be interested.”
Felisha sighed slightly. “You didn’t just come here because you were invited, Remus,” she said abruptly, her words a statement not a question. “You’re here because this place stinks like a cauldron of badly brewed Wolfsbane and you and Undine want to know why.”
To say Remus was taken aback was rather an understatement. His eyes flitted to Tonks.
“Don’t look at me,” the Auror said with a slight grin. “She sussed us out all by herself.”
“It didn’t take much sussing,” Felisha gave a small smile. “Remus, you’d never work with someone so mindless, even out of pity “ even your infinite patience would have been driven to sarcasm long ago. And Undine, nobody needs the toilet that much.”
Tonks laughed outright and Remus smiled. “Very perceptive,” he said.
Felisha returned the smile. “My powers of observation are infinite,” she declared dryly. She shook her head, her eyes suddenly tired. “But I barely need to switch them on to see that things are all wrong around here.”
“You’ve noticed something strange?” Remus was instantly on the alert. Felisha met his anxious eyes with a creased brow. She sighed.
“I’ve noticed everything’s strange,” she stated wearily, her voice carefully low. “In the last few months, this place has changed. There are things kept here that shouldn’t be, secrets being hidden, people behaving oddly “ and there’s an atmosphere about the place that there has never been before. And I don’t like it. Not at all.” She glanced around with quick anxiety. “I know you’ve noticed that atmosphere.” She took a deep breath. “I know you’re here because of it. To do something about it, maybe.” At Remus’ look of surprise, she half-smiled. “I know you, Remus. And I know the look on your face when you’re up to something.” She chuckled slightly but then seriousness washed over her once more. “But I don’t want to discuss it here. As Undine and I just proved, anyone could be listening.”
“We’ve had a chat,” Tonks took up the thread, her voice also soft. “And made an appointment to meet later. I’ll tell you about it when we’re out of possible earshot.”
Remus nodded, his mind still racing from the conversations of the last few minutes. An unpleasant thought had just occurred. “That’s all very well,” he said quietly. “But whatever you may be able to tell us, Felisha, I don’t think it’s very likely we’ll ever be allowed back to do anything about it. I think this may be my last informal visit to the Feral Institute.”
Tonks gave him a sharp look at his implication. Felisha, meanwhile, was biting her lip. “You may be right.” She looked up suddenly. “Did I hear Croll say something about you wanting to see the Resident’s Level?”
Remus frowned carefully. “I was just curious…”
Felisha’s gaze was meaningful. “Significantly curious?”
Tonks and Remus exchanged a long slow look. “Possibly,” Tonks replied cautiously. “Why?”
Felisha’s eyes were vaguely frantic but her jaw was firm as she switched her gaze from Remus to Tonks and then back again. “Because I have access to those levels,” she said softly. “And if this is to be your last visit, I think you should have a proper look round, don’t you?”
Remus stared at his old school friend, at her fearful eyes and determined shoulders, aware that she was putting her job and, if their suspicions about this place were correct, possibly her life on the line over something she did not fully understand.
“Rebekah said no,” he told her frankly. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
Felisha’s smile was rueful. “Working here, I think I’m already in trouble,” she said bluntly. “I want to do this, Remus. And if we’re careful, Rebekah won’t ever have to know.”
Tonks looked at Remus. Remus looked at Tonks.
It was a risk, a risk for Felisha’s job, for Tonks’ cover, for Remus’ life. But it was also very likely to be the only opportunity they would get.
As one, they nodded.
“If you’re absolutely sure,” Remus simply said. “Then let’s do it.”
Felisha swallowed hard. “I’m sure,” she replied. “So follow me.”