Chapter 7 : Wizard's Debt
‘I cannot tell you how I’ve done it. I wasn’t there at the time, I was elsewhere, with Harry, my lips weren’t tasting the salt or the sea, they tasted blood, and my paws were not struggling in the water, they were treading on the bones of that rat ..’
Sirius flashed through Remus’ head, a confused image, while he kicked his legs and flailed his arms, a last seizure of the muscles before they broke, strained and exhausted to become a wreckage in the sea.
I wasn’t there at the time ...
But now, Sirius was close, and so was Lily, and his mother and his Dad, a man he barely remembered, but now, clearly, their faces under the waves, silently, palely waiting for him, seaweed their hair, flowing weightlessly, whispering to him ...
And so did he, he floated, sunk, all the strain and the ache and the sorrow was leaving him, dissolved in the eternal calm of the water. He longed to be with them, with the people he loved. But as he reached for them, they turned away, closing their dark eyes and falling silent. The dark water became a cold grave, pressing the life out of his body. He screamed, his lungs filling with water. And suddenly Remus struggled and kicked until his head was in the air once more.
Salty water burned in his eyes and throat, and he was almost blinded by it ... where was Snape? He didn't see that black head of his anymore, nor heard he any sound of swimming. Struggling, treading water, he looked around him, in the mountains and valley of waves and the endless fog. He was still gasping and coughing.
He dived back into the water, head first, prying his eyes open in the vast green sea, trying to find him. And there, wasn’t that a darker shadow, a body floating downwards? Remus swam, suddenly powerful again, stretching his arms for the black shock of hair, the striped collar. Finally, his fingers closed around the fabric, and he dragged them both up to the surface again.
He clutched the man’s chest with one arm, and started to swim. He wouldn’t be able to carry them both for longer than a few minutes, and then he would drown himself. And yet, he couldn’t let go. If he had let Snape die, he felt, he would also, necessarily, die himself. Suddenly, Snape gasped and spluttered. He struggled against Remus tight grip, trying to get away from him.
“Snape!” Remus gasped breathlessly. Cold water washed over their heads, momentarily blinding him. Snape made a protesting sound, but then he went limb again in Remus arms, a heavy bag of flesh and clothes. Seaweed clung to their hair, and a log of wood riding on a wave closely missed Remus head. Again and again, his head was drawn under water, as his arms and legs became stiff and jittery. Like a stone, his body was unwilling to move, inflexible.
When his feet hit sandy ground for the first time, he didn’t comprehend, dreadful images of a horrible sea monster flashing through his mind. But then, again, he felt the sandy ground under his naked heels, and there, a stone, sharp and firm. And his shoulders were out of the water, and then his waist, and with the last steps he stumbled and fell, like a dead body washed to the shore.
His cheek touched the sand, and on one of his arms lay Snape’s heavy body, his lungs hurt as if they had been carved out of his body and put in again. Remus’ eyelids fluttered and fell shut. He was trembling slightly, his cramped hand still clutching Snape close to him. A grey sun was somewhere in the west, and soon they would be discovered, but it would be too late. Close by each other, their frozen bodies would be found ...
After a few moments of blackness, he once more opened his eyes. He noticed that part of the seaweed clinging to his face was actually tangles of Snape’s salty and wet hair. In a compulsory shiver he squeezed himself against the other human body, like a child clutching their doll, or a mother hugging her child. It did not matter that this was Snape, it only mattered that he was human, alive, and maybe just a little bit warmer than the loveless beach ...
With nimble fingers, Remus searched for the wand in his pocket. He muttered a spell through chattering teeth, and all of a sudden a gentle warmth penetrated their soaked bodies. Snape moaned softly and eventually came back to life. Remus pressed his face against the warm but wet neck before him and closed his eyes, completely exhausted. He felt Snape stir, then suddenly his body tensed in Remus’ embrace. Yes, Remus thought numbly. I know. I’ll go away ...
But Snape didn’t wince, he didn’t struggle or flee. For the glimpse of an eye he did nothing at all, not even breathe, perhaps intimidated by the sudden closeness. He only uttered a small sound, almost a sigh. Then he pushed away, rolling around and sitting up. Remus opened his eyes, gazing at Snape like a feverish child. He felt the need to cover and hide. Snape was deadly pale and had an expression of deep suffering and dread on his face. And self-pity.
“Look, Snape, I’m sorry,” Remus attempted to placate him.
“It’s not a wizards debt,” Snape spat.
“I’m afraid it ““
“You’re not a man. You’re not human! I’m not indebted to you!” Remus frowned angrily and got up, brushing the sand from his soaked robes, but it was useless.
“Snape,” he sighed, “it won’t help if you deny me thrice, you know? I just thought you’d rather live indebted to me than die uselessly.”
“You and Potter, you only do this to - !” Suddenly Snape stopped in mid insult, just as Remus was looking for something to turn into a port-key. He chose a log of wood lying a few feet away and got up to fetch it. Snape watched him in confusion as he pointed the wand at the wood and concentrated. Why was Snape suddenly looking as if he’d seen a ghost? Or rather ... remembered seeing a ghost?
“Portus,” he said, making the ugly brown log glow with light. A port-key, hopefully to the Eyrie. Snape still looked bewildered. As the man didn’t react, he shrugged in the direction of Azkaban.
“We better get away from here quickly. They will surely have discovered our escape by now. And don’t even start with the ‘there is no we’, that is lame and old. Do you know what I’m really sick of? People like you and Sirius! You just don’t know when to stop! And then, in the end, somebody gets killed because you’re so stubborn ... and .. and immature!” He blinked at his own fury and the fact that Snape barely seemed to notice. What was up with him?
“Oh, whatever,” Remus muttered softly, and because he felt his cheeks reddening, he thrust the portkey at Snape, who touched it without protest and they were both sucked away, not leaving a trace in the sand.
+++
It was almost noon, and the fall sky was incredibly blue above the Welsh mountains, while in the valley a sea of clouds moved like an ocean in slow motion. A fresh wind blew from the west, a wind from the sea, but the sea was far away. It was warmer, here in Wales, even in the mountainside, that it had been in Azkaban.
They arrived on a steep, rocky part of the mountain and quickly started to crawl upwards, making their way between grey boulders and jagged stones, a wild landscaped untouched by humans. Above them, a spindly dark tower made of those stones and a small and ancient building were plastered against the mountain like the nest of some kind of bird, and it was appropriately called ‘The Eyrie’. A group of crippled trees and a very old, snow-white birch-tree were covering around it.
They were able to reach it without clashing with any kind of protective charms, which Remus took as a good sign. Now they stood in front of a tiny arched oak door with a rusty coat of arms on it. The upper part of it showed a badger, a friendly and a little quaint looking animal, the lower part a significantly smaller eagle in flight, carrying a roll of parchment.
“Give me the wand,” demanded Snape and Remus gave it to him. Snape used it to tip the parchment with the point of the wand. It miraculously unfolded, but it was empty. Snape drew lines and arrows onto the rusty metal parchment, and Remus recognised them as ancient runes, but Snape was too fast for him to read them. Suddenly the parchment rolled back together and the door sprung open.
With a last glance to the free blue sky and the lonely valley, Remus followed Snape inside the tiny courtyard. It was covered in cobble stones and in the middle stood an old well and the birch they had seen from the outside. The stones were strewn with the tiny yellow autumn leaves of the tree. Everything looked ancient and enchanted, as if no man had walked on these stones since the time of the founders, but still everything was well kept. There was an eagle’s huge nest on the top of the spindly tower.
Snape went to another wooden door that led inside the building, and found it open. They went inside, longing only for sleep and safety.
It were cosy, low-ceilinged rooms with tapestry-covered stone walls and huge fireplaces, and ovens to warm yourself on. The place had something very familiar to it, and even in his exhausted state Remus recognised the traces of Dumbledore in everything.
They found a guest room with a bed a bench and Snape collapsed onto it without a further word. He was asleep so quickly that it looked at if he had fallen unconscious. Remus slowly sat down on the other half of the bed. A very small square window showed the cloudy valley. In the distance, a flock of ravens was calling with their hoarse voices. Everything was so very peaceful ...
Snape looked terrible, ghostly white with red rimmed eyes, gaunt and sick like a drug addict or a man with a bad fever. Remus felt the cool linen under his touch, and smelled cinders ... he mumbled a charm to warn them of intruders, but before he could end it, he had already slid onto the pillow, a sigh escaping his lips ...
+++
Remus was woken by the feeling of being watched. It was dark already, and cool in their room, and someone with a gas lamp was standing on the threshold of the small guest room. It was an elderly woman with long grey hair, tall and thin, in a tartan night robe. Only then did he notice the wand she held firmly in the other hand, and he recognised Professor McGonagall.
“Professor,” Remus said, but it came out as a hoarse whisper, and he sat up. She raised the wand a little, and he raised his hands. The lamp sputtered and the yellow light flickered. A glance to Snape assured him that the potions teacher was still fast asleep with his face buried in the pillow. Her look followed his, and she frowned.
“Severus?” she asked softly. Remus nodded. Her brows soared high and she pursed her thin lips. “Explain yourself.”
Remus felt ridiculously relieved. She treated him like a schoolboy who had been out past curfew, not like a dangerous criminal. Slowly he rose, acutely aware of his prisoners clothing and gestured towards the door. She nodded and led him outside, into the hall, that was also the living room, but never let her cover down. She made him sit in a very old armchair that creaked uncomfortably. Then she sat down across him. A fire was alight in the grate, and a teapot stood on the table between them. It smelled of smoke and mint. Remus craved the tea but didn’t dare to ask for it. But then he spotted a plate with chocolate cookies, and his heart nearly skipped.
“May I ..?” he asked shyly. McGonagall frowned but nodded. Then she sighed, a pinched and disappointed sound.
“Remus,” she started, but didn’t finish her sentence.
“I can explain everything,” Remus quickly said in between two moments of bliss spent with his cookie. “We are innocent.”
“Innocent? So who killed the muggles this time? Peter maybe?” she asked sharply. Remus lowered his eyes.
“No,” he answered gravely. “It was an illusion, you have to believe me. We got an Order calling and apparated to this house, where we met a dozen men in Death Eater robes and masks, who were firing curses at us. We thought we had to defend ourselves “ and when we noticed they were only animated corpses under Imperius, it was too late.”
“You used the killing curse,” replied his teacher and colleague. “You deliberately killed those men.”
“We didn’t!” Remus cried. “I used standard Auror tactics! And so did Severus! Have you examined our wands? Have you been witness to any kind of trial? We were just shipped to Azkaban! Like Sirius!” She nodded, though grimly.
“So you are telling me that you were tricked, that not you, but somebody else used the killing curse on the muggles, that they were already dead ... but who sent you the order calling?”
“I know only one person who could.” Dumbledore. But Dumbledore was gone since more than two months. Silence hung between them. Remus felt sick from hunger. The fire cracked and was reflected by McGonagall’s glasses.
“That is a very wild story. And yet ... I’m not sure. The longer I’m here, the more I begin to doubt everything ... it just makes no sense,” she mused.
“We didn’t even have a motive,” Remus protested tiredly. “Why should we kill random muggles? And the Aurors were there far too quickly. How could you ever believe that story? Did Harry believe it?”
“Potter,” McGonagall sighed, and suddenly laid her wand onto the table to rub her forehead. For the first time Remus noticed how very exhausted she seemed. “Mr Potter is extremely confused. He is torn between his friendship with you and his other friends : Mr Weasley is firmly believing in your culpability and Regulus Black seems to fuel that belief. Mr Potter likes the younger Black very much ... Was it him, Remus? Was he the one who set you up?” Her eyes were probing now.
“We believe so,” he said with a nod. “I think he is using a strong glamour, or something worse, to deceive you all. He might still be a Death Eater, or a dangerous man with his own cause. Maybe he isn’t even Regulus Black. We don’t know yet. But what I know is that he came to Azkaban while we were there, and he seemed very glad to see us there and was looking forward to our impending death.”
“Death?” she asked with raised brows. “Now you’re exaggerating.”
“They put us into a double cell. The full moon is in two weeks.”
“Merlin,” she gasped. “We didn’t know that. That is ... that is ... “. She was trembling with a sudden fury, and then she suddenly grabbed her wand and flicked it violently at the table. A plate with sandwiches and steaming mug of hot chocolate appeared.
“Eat. Drink,” Professor McGonagall commanded with a tightly clipped voice. Then she hurried through the room, fetching a sparkly looking man’s robes, something which was a possession of Albus Dumbledore, and started transfiguring it. She stopped when she began on a second pair of robes, and her eyes wandered to the guest room. Slowly she came back and sat down again.
“How is he?” she asked. And with a more pointed voice :”And how did you two ever make it out of Azkaban? In such a short time?”
“Well, time was pressing. We didn’t kill anyone. It was a bluff that got us out of our cell and then we swam through the sea and port-keyed here with a stolen wand. It was a bit dangerous, the wand was difficult to handle “ but we came here almost to the spot. Severus is ... his usual self, I think.” But then, with an almost awed voice, he added : “I saved his life. I think that troubles him a little.”
“Another wizard’s debt?” For the first time McGonagall smiled. She looked wicked. “Poor Severus. But you seem to have got along well enough ...”. Now her expression grew strange. She seemed to ponder something, but didn’t tell him what. He was still devouring the food rather gracelessly, when she noticed the finger he’d bitten off and started to fuss almost as badly as Molly Weasley and Poppy Pomfrey combined.