That evening’s meal began as a very merry affair, celebrating Harry’s release from Privet Drive. Mrs Weasley seemed happier than anyone--except Harry himself--that he never had to see that part of his family again. She had cooked what seemed like all of Harry’s favourite dishes and after he polished off the last crumbs of raspberry cheesecake he sat back in his chair feeling warm and full and deliciously tired.
The noise of the front door creaking open, however, roused the company from their sleepy mood, and Harry, craning his neck round to see who the visitor was, sat up sharply as a familiar face came into view. For one, brief, heart-jolting moment, Harry thought Dumbledore had walked into the room. But he shook himself mentally, telling himself yet again, that the Headmaster was dead, and was not coming back. No--this was not Dumbledore, and now Harry looked at him properly he wondered how he could have thought so. This man was tall and thin like Dumbledore, with a straggly grey beard and the same long, slender fingers. Something about the stranger was very familiar, and he racked his brains, trying to place him. He also seemed to recognise the strong smell of goats emanating from the man’s filthy robes. But his train of thought was interrupted as the old man glanced shrewdly round the little company, his eyes coming to rest on Harry face, and spoke. His voice was deep and rasping.
“’Ello” he muttered, unsmilingly. “No, don’t want tea…gotter talk to Remus.” And Lupin rose, looking surprised and wary. He followed the man, who had backed out of the room into the hallway, sharp blue eyes flicking over their faces. Mrs Weasley put the kettle back on the shelf.
Nobody had spoken since the man had entered, and Harry, glancing round, saw that most of the adults still looked startled. Then Moody cleared his throat.
“Never thought I’d see him in Order company again--good to see him out of that filthy bar at last,” he said, saying the last part under his breath, and Mr and Mrs Weasley nodded in agreement. A few minutes later the man slouched out of the front door without a backward glance, turned on his heel, and was gone. Lupin re-entered the kitchen and sat down, slightly paler than usual.
“What is it, Professor?” said Harry quickly. “Who was he? What did he want?” Lupin looked up to find them all staring at him in concern, and smiled, though it looked rather forced.
“Who was he, Harry? That was Aberforth…Dumbledore’s brother,” he added, as Harry looked slightly blank. Lupin glanced round briefly before continuing in a strained voice.
“He, er--came to tell me there has been a child discovered in the woods--a girl went missing last night, she was found alive--but…” he stopped and swallowed.
Hermione inhaled audibly. “It was full moon last night, wasn’t it, Professor?” He gave her a grim, tired look and nodded.
“The girl had been bitten…they suspect Greyback did it, you all know he--specialises--in infants. “ They nodded sympathetically, all knowing Greyback had been Lupin’s own attacker when he was only four years old.
“That brings the total of werewolf attacks up to twenty-seven since Lord Voldemort came out into the open. Aberforth told me to go into hiding.” There was a collective intake of breath, and Mrs Weasley whispered, “Why?”
Lupin looked at her directly. “Molly, the girl’s parents, and the parents of the other children who have been attacked, are out for blood. You must be able to see why…anti-werewolf feeling is at it’s height and Aberforth believes it will be only a matter of days until the Ministry of Magic does something about it. I believe Albus asked him to help the Order should anything happen to him--I’m sure he knows a lot more than he lets on, Albus told him quite a lot.” He rubbed his forehead distractedly.
“The Ministry has been bombarded with owls from the parents of children all over Britain--people are terrified. They may pass a law saying all known werewolves must be imprisoned--but that is only a guess,” he added hastily as Mrs Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny let out ejaculations of anger, “The trouble is, everyone knows now what I am--it was all over the Prophet after that year at Hogwarts. He thinks it advisable for me to, as I said, go into hiding until Greyback is caught and the attacks stop…which I do not believe will happen,” he added bitterly. “Greyback has been out there for thirty years and has never been found.”
Mad-Eye Moody stood up, both his normal and magical eye fixed intently on Lupin. “So, will you?” he growled, “Go into hiding?” Lupin was silent for a while, then gave a non-committal shrug.
“If I do, it would mean I could not help the Order…there is no point in hiding safely and being of no use to anyone. It would be best for now just to wait and see whether the Ministry does take action. I shall sleep on it, I think. Don’t worry,” he added, looking at his friends’ worried expressions. “I hope nothing will come of it.”
Mrs Weasley rose from her chair, her face anxious. “Have some wine, Remus…you need a pick-up after that news, I think! Oh, my God, when will this end…” she muttered almost to herself as she waved her wand and the wine-bottle tipped some of its contents into one of Sirius’ goblin-wrought silver goblets.
No-one answered her, there hardly being an answer to give. Lupin was staring at the table-top, seemingly lost in thought, and took the goblet from Mrs Weasley without looking at it; the next moment his fingers jerked convulsively and he dropped the cup with a stifled cry of pain, the wine cascading over the table-top. Harry and Ron jumped and looked at Lupin in bewilderment. He had gone paper-white and was wringing his hand as though it had been scalded. Everyone else, however, gasped and Mrs Weasley put her hand over her mouth, looking horrified.
“Remus! I--I’m so sorry, I forgot, I didn’t think -”
But Lupin shook his head and she broke off.
“No, Molly, I apologise, I should have looked at what I was touching…I’m fine…” and he smiled reassuringly, though still very pale, and waved his wand. The spilt wine vanished, and he rose.
“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one evening!” he said cheerfully, though his smile seemed forced. “I’ve caused too much trouble tonight, I had better go upstairs before I make any more…goodnight.” As Lupin passed Harry on his way to the door, he saw his old teacher’s hand was red and burnt-looking, and after he had left the kitchen, nobody spoke for a long time. The meal ended extremely quickly.
When he had laid down his knife and fork, Harry caught Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s eye and jerked his head in the direction of the door. They stood up at once, Ron deliberately giving a fake yawn when his mother was facing his way, and looking expectantly at her. She reacted as he intended.
“Bedtime, all of you, you’ve had a busy day.” And they left as quickly as they could. Harry was burning to ask Hermione many questions but he waited until they were all sitting on his bed and the door was shut.
“What was all that about?” he burst out. “Why did Lupin -?”
Hermione had a strange expression on her face as she answered.
“You didn’t do that werewolf essay for Snape in our third year, did you?” They shook their heads. “Well, I did, and I had to research how to kill werewolves, remember? And the only thing that is effective when a werewolf has transformed, the only thing that can kill it, is silver. And the touch of silver is agony to werewolves even in human form, that’s why Lupin couldn’t hold that goblet. Haven’t you noticed he always uses a copper plate and cup?”
Harry shook his head”he hadn’t noticed, but then, Hermione had always been more observant than he was.
“His hand looked burnt,” said Ginny, looking at Hermione, who sighed. “I read in Dark Creatures and How to Defend Yourself when You Meet One that silver causes more pain to a werewolf than the Cruciatus Curse does to a human.”
Ron was looking green. “No way…so when he touched that goblet…” and he made an odd noise, between horror and pity.
Harry, who had felt the Cruciatus Curse himself, several times, found it hard to imagine pain worse than that, and he shuddered, remembering the terrible agony, the feeling that his bones were on fire, his skin aflame, that he was being sliced with white hot knives….
“D’you think the Ministry really will say that all known werewolves must go to Azkaban?” he heard Ron say, as from a long way off, and he forced himself back into the present.
“Dunno…” he said. “Seems a bit harsh, doesn’t it? I mean, Lupin’s never hurt anyone.” But Hermione made a small doubtful noise and he looked at her. “What?”
“Well, I’m sure the Ministry remembers he was on the loose in Hogwarts grounds…they could easily bring that up.”
“He won’t get caught, anyway,” said Harry firmly. “He’s hardly going to walk into the Ministry on Magic and say ‘Look, it’s me, the werewolf,’ is he?” but Hermione just shrugged.
“He said himself he probably won’t hide so he’ll still be interacting with wizards…as long as he isn’t recognised -” but she broke off as she heard Mrs Weasley coming up the stairs to check on them and Apparated hurriedly to her own room, with a whispered “‘night!” Ginny gave Harry a fierce hug and kissed him goodnight, before slipping out of the room to join Hermione.
They climbed into bed, each occupied with their own thoughts, but Harry lay awake for a long while after Ron’s snores had filled the room, thinking…
The next day was very sombre; Dumbledore had been proven correct. The Daily Prophet had arrived with the news that a new law had been passed, more severe and shocking than Lupin had expected. It had proclaimed that any known werewolf, if found, would be arrested on the spot, interrogated, and if found to have ever endangered any person, wizard or Muggle, would be legally executed as soon as possible. Following the article containing this news were a series of letters from the wizarding community roaring their approval of the new law. Everyone was very quiet around Lupin that day. He appeared calm, though rather distracted, and spoke very little, seeming to be deep in thought.
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny couldn’t believe it as they stared at the Daily Prophet. “No way” was all Ron could say. “No way, they can’t…”
“They have,” said Hermione grimly. But Harry could think of nothing to say as he re-read the lines of the new law: ‘executed as soon as possible…’
“Harry?” it was Hermione, looking at him in some concern. “Harry, it will be alright…Professor Lupin will just have to go into hiding, that’s all.”
“They can’t do this!” he burst out angrily. “It’s not like all werewolves are bad, it’s just that Greyback’s fault, it’s always him who attacks people!” And Hermione and Ron seemed unable to find anything to reply to this, as they agreed completely.
That lunchtime, Lupin told them all as they were grouped round the table, that he had decided he was not going to go into hiding. There was much shaking of heads at this decision and a few people started to speak, but Lupin cut across them, his voice quiet but firm.
“I do not wish to be of no use to the Order for the duration of the war. There are always terrible risks involved in fighting Voldemort; this is just an additional one. And, after all, very few people would recognise me--they know my name from the Prophet but I am not widely recognised in the wizarding community.”
And nothing anyone could say would persuade him to change his mind.
The next day, Lupin had gone, away on business for the Order. It seemed everyone had accepted his decision to remain active. Harry felt slightly depressed as he heard of Lupin’s departure. Harry had always felt able to confide in Lupin--even more since Sirius’ death--and Lupin was one of the few people Harry wanted to discuss the Horcruxes with. Despite what Dumbledore had said about keeping Voldemort’s secret, well, secret, Harry had decided that Lupin could be a great help in tracking down the pieces of soul, being intelligent, trustworthy and skilled in Defence magic. Lupin was also someone Harry felt he could talk to about Sirius and Dumbledore; Harry knew that their deaths must have affected Lupin as much as it had him, or even more. However, his slight annoyance at Lupin’s going away vanished when Harry heard where he had gone. Hermione was very pale as she related to Ron and Harry what she had overheard Lupin telling Moody where he was going.
“He going back to join the werewolves, back to Greyback and the rest of them--”
“WHAT?” said Harry loudly. “No. No way. Lupin fought against the Deatheaters and Greyback that--that night--they’ll know he’s a spy!” Hermione nodded anxiously in agreement.
“He said Dumbledore would have wanted him to keep on spying, that he thinks he might be on the way to persuading a few of them to join him.”
“Greyback’ll rip him to pieces before he persuades any of them,” said Harry flatly.
Ron looked rather sick, but made an obvious effort to speak comfortingly. “Lupin’s not stupid, he’ll find a way to convince them, somehow…” his voice trailed away into nothing as Harry paced the room in agitation, not noticing Ron and Hermione’s attempts to calm him down. What was Lupin thinking of, he thought furiously. Most likely the man was walking into a death-trap…was he going to lose everyone he cared about? And it was with a heavy heart that Harry went to sleep that night, his dreams punctuated with visions of screaming, bitten children and Greyback’s shadowed face staring at him from a newspaper, lips pulled back from sharp teeth in a malicious grin.
Nightmares had prevented him from sleeping well and the next day Harry woke feeling as though his head was stuffed full of Bubotuber Pus. He groaned loudly as the early morning sunlight streamed in through the window and hit him across his closed eyelids.
“Bad night?” mumbled Ron from his bed across the room, sounding half-asleep himself. Next moment, however, both Harry and Ron jerked fully awake as a loud Crack! split the air, and Hermione appeared in the room, a disorientated-looking Ginny clinging to her arm and giggling.
Harry and Ron both jumped and instinctively clutched their bedcovers around themselves, which only made Ginny laugh harder.
“Shy, boys?” she teased. “We decided to come and say good morning.”
“Couldn’t you have just knocked, like, the normal way?” muttered Ron, his ears slightly red.
“I thought I’d practise Side-Along Apparition,” said Hermione briskly, settling herself comfortably on Ron’s bed. “It might come in useful one of these days. Which reminds me, Harry, you can take your test now. Ron’s going to, as well.”
Ron sat up, forgetting his embarrassment. “Yeah, I think Mum’s booked us in for sometime next week. You’ll have no trouble though, mate, blimey, you’ve already Apparated, er--a lot…” he trailed off, looking awkwardly at Harry. Harry knew he had been about to mention Dumbledore, and shrugged.
“You can talk about Dumbledore, you know,” he said lightly. “We can’t just avoid it. Besides, I think we need to talk about him. What did you think of Aberforth?”
“I never realised!” said Hermione, and they all looked at her. “Oh, come on, didn’t you recognise him?” When Ginny and Ron shook their heads, she sighed impatiently. “Harry? Please don’t tell me you didn’t know who he was--you’ve seen him enough times.”
“I thought I did,” said Harry slowly. “But then I reckoned it must've just been that he looked like Dumbledore. The goat smell was familiar, though.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I should think so “ The Hog’s Head reeks of goats."
"Oh..." said Harry, realisation dawning. "You don't mean--not the barman?"
But he didn't really need to ask--now he thought of it, the tall, thin man behind the bar with his straggly grey beard and deep eyes did bear a vague resemblance to Albus Dumbledore. And Harry wondered why he had never noticed it before.
Harry sat there digesting this surprising piece of information, and as he sat, he began to think what an idiot he'd been. Of course, he’d seen Aberforth that day of the first meeting of Dumbledore’s Army, not to mention, he saw him again the next year in Hogsmeade, talking with Mundungus. And now, he thought, mentally kicking himself, hadn't Mad-Eye Moody pointed Aberforth out to him in the old photo of the original Order of the Phoenix? He ought to have recognised the barman the first time he set eyes on him--Harry supposed he had been too disturbed by the shock of seeing his parents in the picture to think much of it.
“The barman?” Harry heard Ron saying, sounding confused. “That stinky old barman’s Dumbledore’s brother?”
And Harry had a sudden thought. “He could have been spying on us," he said slowly. "Dumbledore used to get information from him--I saw, in the Pensieve “ Dumbledore said he was friendly with the local barman, that’s how he knew all Voldemort’s followers were waiting for him in the bar, that time he went to ask for a job at Hogwarts.”
“We need to go and speak to him,” said Hermione as soon as she heard this, and Ron and Harry nodded in agreement. Dumbledore might have given his brother some information about the Horcruxes “ hadn’t Lupin said only last night, Aberforth knew more than he let on?
Ginny was looking slightly lost. “Harry, I don’t understand “ why do you need to talk to Dumbledore’s brother?” Harry chewed his bottom lip as he looked at her, Dumbledore’s warnings to him ringing clearly in his mind, “I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else…” Harry knew he could trust Ginny with his life. But would this put her life at risk? Was it safe for her to know?
And in the end, Harry heard himself speak, as if from a long way off, “Look, Ginny," said the voice, which was surprisingly calm. "There’s something I haven’t told you. And I don’t think I can tell you. I’m sorry. But it’s because I don’t want to put you in danger, don't you see? Dumbledore told me to keep this to myself “ and Ron and Hermione--because it might be the only chance of destroying Voldemort we get.” Harry stopped there because the frustrated look on Ginny’s face was more than he could handle at that moment.
“Harry!” she burst out. “Do you think I would go around telling everybody “ ”
“No, Ginny,” Harry interrupted her quickly (he knew that, as with her mother, it was dangerous to let Ginny work herself into a rage) “I know you wouldn’t ever, not intentionally. But we’re talking about Death Eaters here, and about Voldemort. If you know what we know, it could--it could kill you. I’m pretty sure one other person has died because of it already,” he added, thinking of R.A.B.
Ginny looked about to argue but Hermione crossed the room and sat down next to her on Harry’s bed. “Ginny,” she said kindly. “Harry knows what he’s doing. It really is best for you to stay out of it. We may be talking life and death here.”
“And you think I’ll be all right sitting comfortably here, or at Hogwarts, just waiting to hear if one of you has been killed?” said Ginny fiercely, eyes flashing. “You don’t want me to know anything, so I’ll never be able to help you! Surely the more of us, the better? And I couldn’t stand it if “ if anything happened, to any of you “ ” she broke off, blinking furiously as she held back tears, and Hermione patted her soothingly on the back.
“Ginny…” Harry began, awkwardly. He never knew what to do when girls started crying. “Look, I can’t back down over this, I just can’t. I couldn’t live with myself if you “ if you died, because of me. Too many people have already. It’s not that I don’t want you in my life, of course I do “ but not yet. Not until the war is over and I can live normally. If you stayed here, safe, I would be much happier than if you came with me, wherever I’m going.”
“We dunno what we’re getting into, Ginny,” said Ron quietly. “But we do know it’ll be dangerous. And besides,” he added, trying to lighten the mood, “What would I tell Mum?”
Ginny made a small noise, between and sob and a laugh. “Fine. Alright, I’ll stay here,” she said, looking at the floor. “But Harry, oh Harry “ watch your back… and you too, Ron, Hermione… I want you all back here in one piece after you finish off Voldemort,” she said, half jokingly, though shivering slightly.
Harry smiled regretfully, wishing it could be that easy. “Thanks, Ginny,” he said simply, relief flooding through him, and he felt another burden drop from his shoulders.
But Ron was looking at his sister with an uncharacteristically shrewd expression on his face. “Promise us, Ginny,” he said suddenly. “Swear you won’t go following us or anything.”
Ginny glared at her brother, twisting her fingers in her lap, and seemed about to retort angrily when she caught Harry’s eye, and faltered. “I “ oh, alright…I swear, I won’t follow you,” she said, half-defiantly, throwing her long red hair over her shoulders, and standing up.
“I’m going to have breakfast,” she said, walking quickly out of the room, and they heard the sound of her footsteps clattering, not downstairs, but in the direction of her bedroom. Harry felt wretchedly guilty, sure that Ginny had left so they wouldn’t see her cry. But it did not shake his resolve. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, lead any more people into danger, just for him.
His thoughts were interrupted by Hermione saying gently, “Harry? While Ginny’s not here, I think we need to talk. About “ about You-Know-What…” Harry sighed, but got up, and she watched him as he crossed the room and dug out the fake Horcrux from his chest of drawers.
The locket lay innocently on the bed, illuminated by a ray of sunlight sneaking through a crack in the heavy black curtains. Hermione frowned, staring at it thoughtfully. Ron leaned over Harry’s arm and prised it open, and the note from R.A.B. fluttered out. Harry caught it instinctively, and he and Ron both scanned it again for further clues. But Hermione was still looking at the locket as though she was trying to remember something, and after a while, Ron looked over at her.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Hermione jumped slightly and glanced at him.
“I don’t know…” she said slowly. “There is something “ but I’m not sure “ and I think, I might be right “” Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, before saying irritably, “When you remember us, we’re here waiting patiently, as always,” and Hermione shook her head slightly, as though trying to clear it.
“It’s seeing that locket here, I “ I just get a feeling I’ve seen it here before,” and Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows at each other.
“No, really,” she said, biting her lip. “Harry, what was in all that rubbish we cleared out of the cupboards when you first came here?”
Harry stared at her blankly.
“What, you expect me to remember that? From two years ago? I dunno… er, there was a box of Wartcap powder, er “ an Order of Merlin…”
“And a locket?” she prompted eagerly. “Was there a locket?” Harry racked his brains, but he couldn’t remember. If there had been--if there had been a Horcrux here, all the time!
“I don't know, Hermione” he said finally. “But I trust you. If you think there was, you’re probably right.” And Ron nodded emphatically in agreement.
“Yes…I don’t remember exactly, but I’m almost sure. What did Sirius do with all the stuff?”
With a sinking feeling Harry remembered the many bin bags they had spent the summer filling with old Dark objects and rubbish from the cupboards, and beside him he heard Ron groan.
“It could be anywhere,” said Ron, casting his hands up in a hopeless gesture. “Sirius probably just threw it out.”
“Back to Square One,” Harry said grimly, already casting around for ideas, but Hermione was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye.
“I don’t think so,” she said, in a low voice quivering with suppressed excitement, and Harry and Ron stared at her. “R.A.B.” she said quietly, and Harry frowned, puzzled.
“Where are we?” she said excitedly, and Ron gave a half-laugh.
“Er, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, remember? Or had you forgotten?”
“Oh, don’t be stupid,” she snapped. “We’re in the house of one of the darkest wizarding families “ ‘The Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black.’ Well, what if R.A.B was a Black? ‘B’ would be the initial of his surname, right? So, what if he brought the locket back here?” And Harry gazed at her, mouth slightly open, marvelling at her brilliant mind.
“Hermione, you’re a genius,” he said sincerely. Ron was simply gaping at her. Hermione smiled, blushing slightly, and stood up.
“Where’re you going?” said Ron, finding his voice.
“To look at something that will tell me exactly who this R.A.B. is, if he really was a Black--the tapestry. The family tapestry with all the names of the Blacks on it,” she clarified, as Ron looked blank. Harry stood up too, excitement coursing through his veins. “Let’s go,” he said, striding across the bare boards and opening the door, and together they made their way to the tapestry room.