Chapter Four - Like Desert Storms
Lupin awoke with a start. It was pitch black and his eyes searched the darkness to no avail, he could see nothing. He tried to sit up, but failed. He was tied down. He was thankful for that at least. He wouldn’t have been able to scratch himself, as he had the last time. Though now his quandary was how long he would have to lay there until someone came down into the cellar. His mind wandered back to the night before and he shuddered, losing control like this just wasn’t him. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he actually hurt anyone through all this.
Lupin lay there for over an hour before he heard the creak of the cellar door. He turned his head slightly towards the light and heard the slow, careful steps of someone descending. He couldn’t see who it was in the cloying darkness until he heard the word, “Lumos!” It was Dumbledore.
Dumbledore sat down in a chair near the makeshift bed that Lupin was laying on. Dumbledore looked a little tired and there was concern etched into his face, his eyes traced Lupin’s face and there was a flicker of worry.
“How are you feeling, Remus?” The words were low and quiet.
“I seem to have my senses back,” his words sounded dejected to his own ears.
Dumbledore nodded, “There are some things that I should mention to you before I release you from your bindings. I cannot, in all good conscience allow you back upstairs without informing you of these few things.”
Lupin’s heart was in his mouth, wondering what on earth Dumbledore was going to say. He looked at the wizened old face and he could see no clue; he simply waited for the older man to continue.
“Last night you partially changed into werewolf form,” Lupin’s eyes widened involuntarily, but before he could speak Dumbledore continued, “No-one was hurt, so please don’t concern yourself with that, however, you raged for most of the night. The partial transformation left you in a great deal of pain, and I can now see that you remember none of it. We do - that is to say thanks to Hermione - have an idea as to what it is. Most importantly, I need you to stay in tight control of your emotions; failure to do so on your part may initialise another change in you. Do you understand?” Dumbledore was leaning forward slightly in his chair waiting for Lupin’s word.
“I understand, though an explanation would be nice,” Lupin sounded worried.
“Of course, Remus, I would rather let you out and talk about it calmly over a cup of tea, if you have no objections of course?” There was the smallest flash of a smile and a twinkle.
“Yes, tea would be nice.”
In the early hours of the morning, Hermione found that she was mentally exhausted. She had been looking through werewolf lore and information for hours. It didn’t help that she really didn’t know what she was looking for, only that she wished to assist in some way, and help Professor Lupin. So she assisted in the only way she knew how, she researched and read.
The Black library had many books, quite a few of them were dark, and not the sort of thing a young witch should read. Nevertheless, Hermione ploughed through them and tried to find some sort of meaning behind what was happening to poor Professor Lupin.
Her eyes glazed over as her mind wandered from the book in front of her, Hermione’s thoughts took her to the previous morning. She remembered just how awful the Professor had looked and she felt a wave of sympathy for him, all those cuts and bruises must have hurt him terribly. She remembered his weakened voice calling out for Sirius, and she felt a lump grow in her throat at the thought of it. All those scars he had inside… Hermione swallowed and shook herself back to her task in hand; dwelling on things past never really did any good. She instead applied herself back to the books in front of her.
Still having had no luck, Hermione picked up a book called ‘Obitus Herba’. It was blackened and musty with age. Opening the book caused a puff of dust to expel into the air; the pages were freckled with mould. Looking through it though was quite depressing. So many things that could cause harm to people, why would somebody want a book like this? Further in, the descriptions of plants were left behind and actual potions were being described, as well as foul curses. They were awful, awful draughts and Hermione felt sickened looking at them. She was almost to the point where she could see no more when she found something that stopped her cold. Lupis Dementia. Wolf insanity. Her eyes quickly flicked down further on the pages and read avidly.
Lupis Dementia - is falsely thought to be the degradation of a werewolf's mind due to the mind becoming confused as to its nature. It is in actual fact a potion, created solely to oust those half-breeds that try to pass within polite society, as humans. The application of the potion is very simple; a sample of the plant Diabolous Medinus must be picked on the night of the full moon. It then must be crushed and infused into boiling water. It must be left to boil and reduced to a syrupy consistency. It then has to be bottled immediately, lest it lose potency. A few drops into the beast's drink are all it will take to reveal its vile nature. It will become harder and harder for it to control its basest nature, as the animal fights for dominance within. Of course, the wolf will eventually win, a fitting end to a foul beast. Sometimes if a beast is particularly resistant it may take a few more doses to wear it down, this is advisable otherwise the effect may wear off. The use of Illystium Argentum negates all effects of Diabolous Medinus.
Hermione read the passage several times to make sure that what she had read was, in fact, true. She wiped her brow and found that it was slick with cold sweat. She was more than a little alarmed and she felt her heart beat like a drum in her chest. Could this be the reason for what was happening to Professor Lupin? If that was true, then somebody had deliberately done this to the Professor. Another cold shiver ran through her. In her mind, Hermione knew that things were only going to get worse since the resurrection of Voldemort, but this was hard to swallow.
Hermione stood, grabbed the book, and made her way out of the room and down the stairs. She was guessing somebody was watching Professor Lupin, or at least guarding the door. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw that the cellar door was indeed locked. The kitchen door was slightly ajar and a warm glow flickered from within, hinting at a fire. Opening the door carefully, she was surprised to see Dumbledore drinking tea with Professor Snape.
Hermione quickly spoke, not giving Professor Snape the chance to berate her for being up at this early hour again.
“Professor Dumbledore, I’ve found something useful…” Snape snorted, “Something that might help Professor Lupin.”
Instead of berating her though, Professor Snape's eyes wandered to the book in her hands, and he immediately reached for it. Hermione relented it and watched as Professor Snape read the passage. His eyes widened and he looked quickly to Dumbledore and gave a little nod.
“This seems plausible to me,” Snape said almost enviously, his eyes glittering darkly.
He passed the book over to Dumbledore who brushed the page with his gaze also; he smiled and looked at Hermione, his eyes soft and blue.
“Well done, Miss Granger. Of course, we will need to prove this theory and test it, but this sounds very plausible indeed.” Dumbledore turned to Professor Snape and said, “Illystium Argentum? Is that problematic to find, Severus?”
“It's not an everyday ingredient but not completely rare, it is prized for its silver coloured flower. I think that it would be unlikely that this potion has been used; I doubt the opportunity to administer it would arise. I would suggest that Lupin re-examine the last week for such an opportunity. I, of course, will look into the matter straight away, Headmaster,” Snape arose from the table leaving his tea half drunk and went out the front door quietly.
“Tea, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore had the pot in his hand and was hovering over a cup that had appeared from nowhere.
“Yes please, Professor,” Hermione was biting her lip and failing miserably at acting calm.
Dumbledore poured the tea and looked at Hermione appraisingly, “Is there something more on your mind, Miss Granger?”
Looking up at Dumbledore, Hermione considered her words and said, “Yes, actually there is, sir. This thing that has been done to Professor Lupin, well, it's been done deliberately hasn’t it? Some horror of a person has sneakily administered this vile brew, in the hope that he would…die,” Hermione’s voice hitched a pitch higher and her eyes glistened. “I know we are at war, so to speak, but I never expected stuff like this, I never imagined it would be so…evil.”
Hermione cried and Dumbledore patted her hand and gave her a moment to console herself. He looked as though he was considering something and he nodded to himself.
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m being silly,” Hermione said, wiping her eyes.
Dumbledore’s expression then changed and he looked saddened, “Hermione, I wish I could say to you that you were being silly, but you are not. These are the times that we live in and I wish I could protect everyone from what’s going to happen, but I can't. It will get worse. That’s the only promise I can make with confidence. This is what Evil is, its awfulness will constantly surprise us, and so it should. One never gets used to living with evil, knowing it co-exists with us daily is frightening. We have to live, however, with our own lives and choices. Is it truly harder to fight it, or is it harder not to fight knowing what will happen if we don’t? Could you live with that choice?” Dumbledore looked down at his teacup silently and stared for a moment into the hot water.
“I never believed that I had a choice, sir,” Hermione said, her eyes glistened not with tears but with that famous Gryffindor courage.
He smiled softly at Hermione, “No, I don’t suppose you did,” his eyes shone warmly at Hermione, and she felt a rejuvenated sense of purpose within. “Now, I do believe that Remus will be wanting a cup of tea and a spot of toast.”
Hermione blinked and stood, “I’ll get some ready for him, shall I? Would you like some toast, Professor?”
“I wouldn’t say no to a slice of toast, thank you, Hermione. Now I shall go and fetch Remus,” Dumbledore stood and gracefully walked over to the cellar, and opened the door slowly. He disappeared down the black hole in a swish of robes.
Hermione rattled around the kitchen, cooking toast and boiling the kettle for tea. She was glad of the task because she then wouldn’t have to think about what Dumbledore had said. She knew he was right, of course, but it didn’t make it any easier to think about. Hermione’s mind then drifted to Professor Lupin as she brewed the tea. She hoped he wasn’t as badly hurt as he was this time yesterday and briefly wondered whether she should get out the first aid stuff again. The sound of creaking stairs alerted her to the fact Dumbledore was returning.
She turned and looked towards the door and saw Dumbledore and Professor Lupin emerge from behind it. Lupin looked drained and exhausted. His hair was all over the place and hung in his eyes.
Not accustomed to the tangled mane, Lupin raked his hand through it a couple of times in an attempt to tame it. It didn’t work and it just fell back into his vision. He sat down at the table and reached for a cup of tea, he placed in a couple of sugars and stirred it. He knew that Hermione was staring at him, he could feel it. Turning to meet her gaze, he saw a look of pity in her eyes and then she jumped realising her faux pas. She turned around to fetch the toast and placed it on the table in front of Dumbledore and Lupin. First, she was scared of him, now, she pitied him, and he really didn’t know what was worse.
Hermione stared at him still seeing the scars from yesterday and remembering his pain. His skin was so frail and he seemed so fragile, even though she knew that physically he was stronger than he looked. He looked weary and slightly pathetic like a wet puppy in the rain. All Hermione wanted to do was wrap him in blankets and feed him chicken soup with an on tap supply of tea. Then he turned and looked at her his eyes fixing on hers and she jumped.
Lupin and Dumbledore sat discussing the possible nature of the potion that Lupin had been ill with. Hermione observed how calm he seemed about it, if it had have been her she would have been furious. It wasn’t long, however, before Dumbledore stood and made his goodbyes to Hermione and Professor Lupin. He left quietly, not wanting to awaken the portraits.
As Lupin watched Dumbledore leave, he felt his hope leaving with him. He felt a little frustrated and was starting to understand how Sirius had felt…before. He pushed the rising emotion down and boxed it for another time, remembering what Dumbledore had said to him downstairs. He looked around to see Hermione sitting nearly opposite him at the table. She was looking into her teacup.
“Any Grims today?” He smiled softly.
Hermione looked up and shook her bushy head.
“I believe I owe you a thank you. For helping to find a possible solution to my little problem. Thank you, Hermione,” he smiled warmly at her and it lit his face.
Hermione looked a little red but smiled back, she was pleased to see him smile; the difference it made to his face was amazing. “I had to do something, so I hit the books. God, have you seen some of the books up there, they are truly vile.”
“That they are indeed, they should probably be taken to a secure library.”
“Keep them? Shouldn’t we burn them?” asked Hermione in disbelief.
“No book should ever be burned, Hermione,” Lupin spoke softly and patiently. “If they were to have been burned then you would have never spotted what was happening to me. No, such knowledge should be kept, but kept safely, under lock and key.”
Hermione nodded with understanding. He was quite right, of course; she couldn’t believe she’d said something that silly.
Lupin yawned and looked apologetic. “I think I may have to go back to bed. If you need me I’ll be down stairs…in the cellar.” He shrugged.
Hermione looked at his retreating back and just as he reached the door she said, “Have sweet dreams, Professor.”
He didn’t say anything but he looked at Hermione and saw she really meant what she had said. The very word sweet seemed personify her exactly at that point, and he smiled a warm smile in her direction.
“I do believe I will, Miss Granger,” he said mimicking her formality.