Chapter Eighteen: Uncle Morris
[Remus]
I am trying not to think about her. Only the thing is, the more I try not to think about her, the more I do. And the more I come round to the idea. This is ridiculous, really. I wish it had never even occurred to me. What was I thinking? I donât like Marty. Not in that way. Itâs impossible. Sheâs crazy. Iâm a monster. She has that weird thing about pumpkins. Iâm a monster.
It would all just be far too difficult.
Why did the thought ever have to cross my mind? It was much nicer before, when there was no question that she was just a really good friend.
I am trying not to mull this over some more (and failing), when someone knocks on the door of the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey bustles across the ward to let them in.
âMiss Price,â she says begrudgingly. âCome on in. Lupin, I presume?â
Marty must have nodded, but I donât see because I pretend to be asleep. Although Iâm not sure why.
âHi, Remus,â I hear her say from over by the chair when Madam Pomfrey has left. âI thought you would be awake by now, but I guess not. I made you a card. Well ... Lily helped.â
I sit up in a panic and whirl around to face her. She lets out a surprised little shriek.
âYou told Lily about me?â I yell at her.
âNot the truth,â she insists, once she has recovered. âI just said you were ill. Calm down. Were you pretending to be asleep?â
Oops. Yes. This is awkward. âUh ... no. How did the prank go?â
âThe what? Oh, yeah, it went fine. Everybody loved it.â
I frown. Yesterday she had been practically having kittens that she had been asked to be the trigger for their Halloweâen prank. Now she barely seems to care at all.
âAnd what did they think about us not being there? And the banner?â
She smiles half-heartedly. âWorked like a chime. Very enigmatic.â
âDo you mean charm?â
âProbably. You know, Aunt Tabby is always mixing her words up. I wouldnât be very surprised if it was passed on toâ“â she stops. âYeah. Well. Yeah.â
My frown deepens. âMarty, whatâs going on?â
She shakes her head. âNothing. I got a letter from her, thatâs all. Nothing new. Have you heard from your Mum lately?â
âUh ... yeah, last week, she says hi ... didnât she write to you too?â
âOh. Yeah. She did. Is there, uh ... is there a chance of ... do you think she would mind ...â
Marty is struggling for the words. I know that she is trying to ask if she can stay with us again over Christmas without sounding like sheâs asking to stay with us, because she doesnât want to be a burden.
I donât know why, but Iâm not nearly as comfortable with this idea as I was a month ago when I just assumed it would happen and I didnât mind a jot. But ever since I had that darned thought, the idea scares me a little. Like I donât want to be alone with her for too long. But I donât know why.
All right, I know exactly why. The same reason I pretended to be asleep just now. Because Iâm scared of what will happen if weâre alone for too long.
All right, fine. Iâm terrified. Happy?
âYouâll have to ask her,â I say. Wait, no, donât ask her. Sheâll welcome you back with open arms! Which is exactly why you should ask her. I mean, not ask her. I mean ...
Dammit.
âSure ...â Marty seems distracted again. I want to get to the bottom of it and help her, but Iâm far too tired right now. I slump back in my pillows.
âCan I see the card?â I ask.
She passes it to me, wordlessly. She has that distracted look on her face. The one she usually gets in between realising some injustice and deciding something needs to be done. A sort of shocked, helpless, desperate look, as if sheâs waiting for someone to run in and fix it for her, before she resigns to the fact that sheâll have to do it herself ... again. I feel a huge urge to be the first person to take the burden from her without her having to do anything at all, but I donât even know what needs to be done. And the look on her face usually only stays there for a second or two. Sheâs looked like that ever since she walked in.
Whatever has happened is either so huge, she needs a little longer to compose herself ... or she doesnât think anything can be done.
I sincerely hope itâs the former.
The card is really very nice. Very glittery and shimmery and Marty. When I open it, little fireworks shoot out of the inside crease and explode before my eyes in lots of gold sparkles. I can see that Lily definitely helped with the charms, but the ideas and twinkle-factor are Marty all over. Or at least, theyâre the old Marty.
There is another knocking on the double doors of the ward.
âDing-Dong! Ding-Dong!â someone outside sings loudly â“ James, as far as I can tell by the horrible off-key sound to his notes.
âDing-Ding-Ding-Dong!â someone else harmonises. Peter, by the high notes he is almost hitting.
âDing-a-Ling-a-Ling-Dong!â someone else harmonises. Sirius, by process of elimination (and the self-important way this third of the trio is trying to steal all the limelight). They continue their individual ditties on a round loop.
âWhat on Earth is that?â asks Marty, sounding horrified. Iâm happy to hear a more solid emotion in her voice than before, even if it is mild alarm.
âI dread to think,â I reply.
Madam Pomfrey storms across the ward angrily, before wrenching the door open.
âKeep that racket down!â she says.
âSorry, Poppy,â Sirius replies, grinning and patting her on the shoulder as they all swan in, as self-assured as ever. I shove the card under my pillow.
âSorry,â I say quickly to Marty. âI like it. But itâs not very manly.â
She smiles and shrugs. Sirius grabs a chair from beside the empty bed next to me and straddles it. I wish he wouldnât. Peter sits at the foot of my own bed, while James hops on to the empty one and crosses his legs like heâs meditating, even though heâs wearing shoes. Sirius throws down the Prophet onto my bed, open at a section about halfway through when all the important and intelligent news has run out. Most of the page is taken up by a picture of Celestina Warbeck throwing up over the bouncer outside the only solely Wizarding nightclub in London, âLumos!â. She is doing this whilst trying to cover her identity to the photographer (but not covering her knickers).
âUm,â I say. âDelightful as that image is, is there any reason I should be interested in ... uh ... âCelestina War-barfâs Latest Night On The Townâ?â
âNot that,â Sirius says, âalthough the poor love is a little worse for wear. I reckon she needs a nice, caring hand to take care of her and guide her back down the road of normality. No, itâs that small bit in the corner. And itâs mostly for Martyâs benefit.â
I see where he is looking and manage to read the headline (if you can call it that) âBarmy Ex-Wizengamotâs Hogsmeade House To Be Demolishedâ before Marty takes the paper and starts reading it, frowning deeply. James pulls a face as if to say, âSorry about this.â Peter looks equally sympathetic.
Sirius sort of looks like he wants another chance to see Celestina War-barfâs â“ I mean, Warbeckâs â“ knickers. But I decide to pretend he is concerned for Martyâs Cause, too, because thatâs much less worrying.
âWe do too have something better to do!â Marty cries. Sirius winces, while James and Peter look similarly guilty at having exposed her to whatever that tiny article displays.
âWhat?â I ask, being the only person not to know whatâs going on.
âListen to this,â Marty says sounding disgusted. ââOn the 1st December, the humble home of Ex-Wizengamot, Eugene Cardrac, will be demolished to make room on Hogsmeadeâs High Street for two new shops. Despite one or two protests from some teens at the school with nothing better to do, the demolition will continue as planned. Cardrac was laughed out of the Wizengamot in 1867 for his unorthodox ideas, probably spurred on by senile dementia.â Thatâs it! Thatâs all they have to say!â
âPreposterous,â Sirius insists solemnly, whilst looking again at the revealing picture accompanying the pageâs more dominant article.
âTerrible,â Peter agrees, thankfully looking like he might actually mean it.
âThey didnât even mention that the spokespeople for the campaign are also the Marauders, Hogwartsâ most infamous quartet,â James says, equally disgusted.
âYes,â I say dryly. âThe real crime here is that youâre not getting credit where itâs due, not that a noble manâs home and heritage is being destroyed and his forward thinking yet undeniably true ideas are being ridiculed even now, over 100 years after they were first put forward, in an age which is supposed to be ten times more tolerant.â
There is silence as everyone present turns to stare at me. Even Marty looks surprised at my language.
âYouâve been spending way too much time with this one, mate,â Sirius tells me, shaking his head incredulously and indicating Marty.
I shift a little uncomfortably. âI care about this particular Cause, thatâs all,â I say begrudgingly. âWhat theyâre doing is wrong.â
And, as has happened far too many times before, Marty throws her arms around me and bursts into tears.
[Marty]
I really donât want to count the number of times Iâve thrown myself at poor Remus and started sobbing in this past year, but at least this time I pull myself together quite quickly.
âSorry,â I mutter, as everyone looks uncomfortable. âDo you really mean it?â I ask him.
âUm. Yes.â
I smile happily through my tears. âThen we need to get started. A month is so little time to plan something on the scale we need!â
And, conveniently, it will be the perfect distraction from the letter I received this morning. I push the contents from my mind and beam at everyone present.
âSo,â I say. âA sit-in? A lie-in? Placards? I think weâre past a petition now, my friends, this requires good old-fashioned action. What say you?â
âYeah,â Peter says unsurely. âUm, whatâs a sit-in?â
âItâs where everyone sits down and refuses to move,â James explains. Peter looks pleased.
âThat sounds easy. I think we should do that. We could bring a picnic.â
âIt usually ends with the protestors being forced to move by the authorities, sometimes with violence,â I say.
âOh.â
âBut the important thing,â I stress to him, âis that we never retaliate with violence.â
âSo, wait.â Now even Sirius sounds confused. âWe just let them push us around and beat us up and we canât even defend ourselves, we just refuse to move?â
âAbsolutely,â I say happily. âIt makes them the bad guys in the eyes of the public, so that more people are on our side. The Muggles thought it up. Itâs very effective.â
My friends seem to be considering how insane I am, on a scale of one to crazy.
âLetâs do it,â Remus says.
âWhat?â Sirius cries.
âCome on, Padfoot, itâs not like theyâre really going to use violence on us. In the words of the Prophet, they have better things to be doing, right?â James reasons.
âExactly,â I say. âWe won the last protest over this because the officials couldnât be bothered to deal with us. Why not get the same result by the same means, only slightly more dramatic?â
âIâm up for it.â
âThank you, Peter. Sirius?â
He looks around at us all and sighs. âIs it technically breaking the rules?â he asks hopefully.
âWell, itâs hardly smiled upon,â I say, knowing this will help sway him into agreeing.
He looks tempted. âGood, good ... keep going ...â
âIt will annoy a lot of Ministry people, not to mention the teachers,â James says excitedly to himself as well as Sirius.
Sirius grins. I can tell he is just doing it for fun now. âExcellent, yes, this is sounding persuasive ...â
âWeâll have to skip classes,â Remus chips in. âSince the first of December is a Thursday.â
âCount me in!â
It doesnât take long for Remus to be deemed fit to leave, so we travel down to the Great Hall in time for Lunch, still discussing our plans at length. Itâs nice not to have to think about the letter which is still in my bag. And if I do think about it, I try to distract myself as quickly as possible. I just donât want to think about it right now.
I see Lily sitting on her own with several books spread around her. She has some food on a plate, but is distractedly flicking through one of the large volumes, not really concentrating on that either.
I sit down next to her and push the large jug of pumpkin juice as far away as possible, for the sole purpose of annoying Remus. This is easily achieved and his eyes go a bit crazy. Yet, as ever, he says nothing about it. I try not to giggle to myself too much. In fact, Iâm practically light-headed at the thought of organising a sit-in. Iâve attended them before, of course, but never organised one by myself. Itâs so exciting!
âHey, Lily,â James says cautiously. She looks up.
âHi, guys.â
âWhatcha reading?â asks Peter, leaning over her shoulder and furrowing his brow.
She closes the book with a bang. âIâm not. Iâm just trying to look busy.â
âI do that sometimes,â James says quickly. I am reminded of the week before, when Lily pointed out loudly that she and James could never be together because they have nothing in common.
âUh ... thatâs nice for you.â
She catches my eye. I shrug.
âYeah,â James says enthusiastically. âThere are loads of things I do that you do too. Isnât that right, Padfoot?â
Sirius looks rather surprised at being included in the conversation so suddenly (and randomly). âWell I donât bloody know,â he says incredulously.
âSee?â James says proudly, as if Sirius had enthusiastically agreed and even given an example. âTonnes of stuff.â
âOh yeah?â Lily raises her eyebrows and smirks, catching my eye again and winking. âLike what?â
âWell.â James looks stumped, but hopeful. He probably thinks the wink was for him. âWe both like to ... study.â
âYou hate studying,â I point out to him innocently. Lily is trying extremely hard to stop herself from laughing at his pathetic attempts to bond.
âThanks, Marty. Anyway, itâs not just our love of studying. We both like to interior decorate.â
âActually, thatâs true,â I say seriously this time. Iâm always hearing random stories about Jamesâs decisions to give their dorm a new âthemeâ (apparently itâs gone from Quidditch, to dragons, to âfamous cheeses of the eighteenth centuryâ in just one term, although that last one hasnât lasted long and he is already thinking about moving on to well-known Gryffindors, even though the cheeses have only been stinking up their dorm for a week or so). And Lily once practically forced a rather terrified Roxie to put up some posters around her bed, because it didnât feel âhomely enoughâ without them.
âThanks, Marty,â James says again, but without the sarcasm this time. âAnd we both like helping Marty with her Cause. Especially the Eugene Cardrac one which is actually sort of worthwhile.â
I take offence at this statement, but am reminded that Lily needs to be brought up to date on the sit-in idea.
âAh, yes, that reminds me, Lily,â I begin. âI donât know how thoroughly you read the Prophet this morning, but â“â
âMarty, where are your manners? I was speaking,â James chides, cutting across me very politely himself.
âWhat was in the Prophet?â Lily asks me interestedly. Apparently James has gone from entertainingly desperate to just pathetic (we all knew it would happen eventually).
âWe both like to crochet!â James insists wildly. Sirius starts to laugh so hard at this that he has to put down his sandwich and cover his face in his hands.
âIt was about Cardrac House,â I say, leaning closer to Lily in order to be heard over Siriusâs (and Remusâs and Peterâs and Luanneâs) laughter.
âOh? Have they caved to our demands?â
Itâs so touching to hear people quoting your own terminology back at you. Especially when theyâre being serious, instead of just mocking you for speaking like an overzealous campaign leaflet. Which Iâve been told I do, though Iâve never noticed it myself.
âUnfortunately not,â I say. âThe opposite. Theyâve scheduled a demolition for a month from now.â
Lily looks appalled. âNo! They canât! After we sent petitions and did that protest and everything!â
âThey put that down to teens with nothing better to do,â Remus says, having recovered, while Lily looks even more outraged. Meanwhile, James is sulking over being ignored again and Peter is trying to convince him that crocheting is actually a very manly pastime and heâs sure he had an uncle who made the most beautiful bags in between his intensive workouts at an all-male gym.
âSo what are we going to do?â Lily asks. âAnother protest? Do you want me to start making signs?â
âPerfect,â I say. âOnly this time, itâs slightly more illegal. Weâll have to skip classes and it will sort of resemble a sit-in.â
âA sit-in!â Lily looks thrilled. âThat is so cool! Will there be riot control?â
âFor Merlinâs sakes, Peter, I donât really do crochet!â James yells randomly, setting Sirius (and Remus and Luanne) off again and distracting us momentarily. âAnd if youâre talking about the Uncle Morris we met last Christmas, then going to an all-male gym just proves that he rides his broomstick backwards.â More to himself than to Peter, he adds, âI knew that question about cocktails was some kind of double entendre.â
There is a short break in our more serious protest discussion, while Lily slides from the bench onto the floor because she is laughing so hard that she can no longer balance.
I donât blame her. I am finding it difficult to stay upright too. Maybe it would be easier to join her on the floor under the table ...
How could anyone ever worry about a terrifying letter they received from theyâre aunt which they definitely arenât thinking about right now, when they have friends like these surrounding them?
[Remus]
In exactly one month we are being drenched with buckets of rain in front of Cardrac House. Itâs bloody freezing, but Marty doesnât seem to have noticed. The house isnât all that big â“ Cardrac was never very wealthy, which was apparently another reason why he wasnât taken seriously and the Ministry were quite happy to turn him out on his ear without a second thought, according to Marty â“ so it doesnât take many of us to block the Ministryâs path to the house. But there are certainly enough teens with nothing better to do to cause a stir with the officials whoâve been sent.
Marty is in her element, more so even than last time, because last time she was rather adorably ill. This time sheâs totally healthy, despite the cold wind and rain.
Sheâs still kind of adorable though. Not that I actually think that or anything.
âLook,â one of the officials says to her, crouching down on his knees so that he is on her level. âWhat dâyer want? How much dâyer want to call it off and let us do our job?â
âWe donât want money,â she says calmly. âWe want protection for the house and recognition for Eugene Cardracâs inspiring ideas and reasoning.â
âAnd âow much is that worth, sweetheart? Twenty Galleons?â
âIâm not going to be bought like some five year old,â she says defiantly. âYouâre just going to have to explain to your bosses that Martina Price refuses, on behalf of the wizarding youth of Great Britain, to allow such atrocities as this to take place.â
I love it when she starts talking like that. Itâs so funny. That guy doesnât have a chance against her and her Cause-speak.
âFifty?â he asks, after apparently not hearing a word she said.
âYou know,â Marty says, âyou could learn a lot from Eugene Cardrac about prejudice and stereotyping. Just because someone was bitten by a werewolf doesnât make him a monster. And just because Iâm a young girl doesnât mean Iâm an idiot. I want to speak to someone in charge.â
âIâm in charge,â the Ministry worker says, clearly getting annoyed and dropping the âsweetheartâ tactic.
âNo,â Marty says kindly. âYou just have a clipboard and a megaphone. I mean someone who actually has some real power.â
Me and Sirius both laugh at this. We are sitting either side of her at the front of the sea of kids, because I am extremely protective of her and Sirius is the most intimidating. Now the Ministry worker looks angry.
âWhy ainât you in class, anyway? Do the school know yer âere? I think Iâll just tell âem,â he says, standing up.
Uh oh. McGonagall would pull the plug on all this in a matter of seconds. As soon as the school figure out why a bunch of their students are missing, the whole thing will be over and Martyâs plan will have failed, after a whole month of enthusiasm leading up to this. I canât let that happen so soon.
âThe school already knows!â I say quickly. âTheyâre behind us. We learnt about Cardrac in History of Magic and they all agree with us. For the record, he was far more open minded than most people in the Ministry even now.â
âIf they know yer âere,â the man says, sneering. âThen why ainât there a single one getting wet alongside you? You canât fool me that easy. Smithings? Get down the school and let âem know. If we donât demolish summat today weâll be for it from Jenkins.â
âHoward Jenkins?â Marty asks. The man looks down at her, surprised. âHeâs involved in this? Can I speak to him?â
âNo, yer canât speak to anyone. âSpecially not âim.â
âWho is he?â asks Sirius.
âQuite high up, but not high enough to make the headlines,â Marty says. âBut high enough to call the whole thing off if he wants to. He likes three sugars in his tea.â
I grin. âHe came to Taffyâs? You know him?â
Marty looks at me despairingly. âEveryone came to Taffyâs. I donât know everyone. But Howard Jenkins was a regular. If we can speak to him, we might have a chance.â
âWell ... go for it!â I say. I had doubts before which I hadnât dared voice, but maybe somehow, we might be able to pull this whole thing off after all.
âExcuse me!â Marty says loudly. âExcuse me!â
âOi!â Sirius yells. âSheâs talking to you!â
The Ministry worker ignores them both. Someone pokes me in the back.
âOw!â I turn around. âOh, Lily. Whatâs wrong?â
âWhatâs going on?â she asks excitedly. âAre Marty and Sirius starting a riot? Can I join in? Weâre all here, itâs not fair if only they get to make some noise.â
I glance around at Marty and Sirius. They are still being ignored.
âStart chanting for Howard Jenkins,â I say, smiling. âThat ought to shake them up.â
âWhoâs Howard Jenkins?â asks James, who sneakily got to sit next to Lily (when she told him to move he insisted that he couldnât, because it was a sit-in and Marty had told him not to get up until he was forced to. She muttered something about âyou havenât seen no force yetâ, but she let him stay).
I am getting rather into this whole rebellious protestor thing. âWho cares?â I ask, grinning. We start chanting. Marty looks thrilled and rather proud as everyone else catches on and joins in. The Ministry worker looks frustrated ... and a little worried. He shouldnât be, of course, because we were given a very long talk about how we werenât going to use violence in any circumstances, just reason and stubbornness.
Still.
Itâs fun to be a rebel.
[Marty]
âHow-ard Jen-kins, How-ard Jen-kins, How-ard ...â
Itâs so moving to hear all those people chanting for me to speak to Howard Jenkins. We had such a fantastic turn out! Lily appears to be particularly enthusiastic. Even Remus, who is normally so refined (I mean, he carries a HANDKERCHIEF) seems to be getting into the spirit of protesting teen with nothing better to do.
Just as we are all getting very excitable and there is some rather flattering foot-stomping on my behalf, a tall figure appears at the end of the street.
âOops, here she comes,â Sirius shouts over the top of all the noise, grinning with anticipation. I start to get a little worried, but I think of my Mum and know that I wonât back down that easily.
âExcellent,â says the Ministry worker in âchargeâ. âThisâll sort you lot out, wonât it?â
âKeep going!â I call over my shoulder. âHow-ard Jen-kins, How-ard Jen-kins!â
My anxiety gets worse and worse the closer McGonagall gets to us, because I know weâll be punished for skipping classes and Iâve never quite so flauntingly broken the rules like this. But Sirius and the others do it pretty much daily and the teachers still love them. Secretly. Besides. Itâs a good cause. In fact, itâs The Cause.
McGonagall is close enough to catch my eye.
Iâm terrified. I can think of nothing to do but smile hopefully. She is evidently trying very hard not to smile back. Instead, she starts talking to the Ministry worker. There is quite a lot of noise around us, but I can just about tell what they are saying, with some help from some handy lip-reading and straining of ears.
âSo, whatâs the problem?â she asks.
âWhat dâyou thinkâs the problem? We canât do what weâre paid for with them lot blocking that old ruin.â
âWell, have you tried talking to them?â
ââCourse I bleedinâ âave!â
She raises her eyebrows. âI donât think that sort of language is necessary, do you?â
He sighs. âCan yer just get rid of âem?â
âCertainly.â
She comes forwards and kneels in front of me. I donât need to know how she realised I was the one behind it all.
âHello, Marty. You know, I was wondering why you and your friends hadnât attended my lesson. You realise youâll have to make up the work in detention?â
âYes, Professor,â I say.
âNow tell me. What do you want with Howard Jenkins?â
âMarty knows him, Professor!â Sirius says, unable to restrain himself and leave the negotiations to me. âWe think heâll help us!â
âAnd what do you need help with?â
This time Remus jumps in for me. âPreventing the destruction of our valuable heritage, in the form of Cardrac House. After all, Professor, if we ignore the past, how can we prepare for the future?â
Itâs hilarious when people quote stuff Iâve said, it really is.
McGonagall looks surprised at his language too. âI see.â She also sounds rather amused. âAnd how will Howard Jenkins help?â
Lily pokes me in the back from behind. âWhatâs going on?â
âWeâre negotiating,â I reply.
âWow, seriously? Can I help?â
âKeep chanting. That seems to be annoying everyone.â
I face McGonagall again. âWeâre not moving,â I insist.
âNo,â she agrees calmly. âI wasnât exactly under the impression that you were. Can we come to an agreement?â
âIf it involves cancelling the demolition,â I say, âthen yes.â
âIâm not sure that will be possible,â she says. âWhatever it is which will replace Cardrac House, it must be important to the Ministry.â
âShops,â I say. âThatâs it. Over history.â
âWhat is it you really want, Marty?â asks McGonagall meaningfully. âDo you want to stop the demolition of a house which has seen better days and is uninhabitable? Or do you want some kind of recognition for the man who once lived there?â
âWell,â I say, feeling rather stumped at this slightly random question. âBoth.â
âBut is leaving the house as it is really achieving the latter? Did anyone take any notice before all these new buildings were planned? Except for you, of course.â
âWell,â I admit begrudgingly. âNot really.â
âAnd if the building remained as it is, would they take more notice? Or would it be left to degenerate even further? How is that any more respectful than simply getting rid of it?â
She has a point. I know she does. Remus knows it too and when I catch his eye, he shrugs as if to say âI guess sheâs rightâ. Even though I see the logic, I canât help but feel slightly betrayed by this gesture. Sirius has got bored of the negotiations and is chanting with everybody else, so is therefore unavailable for opinions.
âSo what can we do?â I ask desperately. âIf no one will listen either way, what are we supposed to do?â
âWell,â she says thoughtfully, âWhat about some kind of plaque?â
I exchange a look with Remus. âUh,â I say.
âWhat kind of plaque?â he asks, since he seems to have taken the role of deputy negotiator. Thankfully.
âOne dedicated to the life and home of Eugene Cardrac. Iâm sure if we speak to Mr Thandy over thereâ“â she points at the Ministry worker we were arguing with who is watching us with suspicion ââ“then heâll be perfectly happy to agree, if it means he can do his job. Marty, you could be in charge of what it says.â
I look at Remus. He shrugs again.
âWhat do you think?â I ask unsurely.
Because I have no idea. I know that sheâs right. Even if we stopped them today, theyâd come back tomorrow. Itâs not like I really know Howard Jenkins would change anything for me just because I used to serve him coffee. But this Eugene Cardrac campaign has been so popular. Everyoneâs become really interested in it. Not like the others. No one really believed in those except me. But this one ... random first and second years Iâve never met before have been looking up to me because of it. Look at all the people who turned up to the sit-in. I canât just cave in now.
Remus seems to be thinking about it hard. âI donât think youâll get a better offer,â he eventually says. Once again, I feel slightly offended by his lack of faith, but I know that itâs true deep down. âAnd,â he continues thoughtfully, âpeople would see it and read it, then think about him. Maybe read up on his history. Get to know his beliefs. Like Professor McGonagall said, itâs more than they do now.â
âExactly,â she agrees. âShall I speak to Mr Thandy?â
âItâs your decision,â Remus assures me.
I look at him and then at McGonagall, then back again. âAll right,â I say finally, nodding at her. âSee if heâll agree.â
She stands up and walks over to where he is standing, disgruntled, in the rain.
Lily pokes me in the back again so that I turn around.
âWhatâs happening?â she asks. âI canât hear anything good back here. Are they getting Howard Jenkins? Who even is he? Do you think heâll help us?â
I shake my head. âWe donât need him. We came to our own arrangements.â
âTheyâre cancelling?â she asks gleefully. âThatâs brilliant!â
âNo, theyâre not cancelling, theyâre going ahead with it.â
âHow come?â asks James, leaning in closer and accidentally-on-purpose touching his leg with Lilyâs. She shifts away from him and he grins at her until she rolls her eyes and fights not to smile.
âTheyâre putting a plaque up instead,â I say. âIn memory of him.â
âA plaque?â asks Lily. âThatâs the big compromise?â
She looks disappointed. So am I. Iâve failed Cardrac. I knew it. Iâve failed everyone.
âOh,â I say, remembering before I turn around. âAnd weâre all in detention.â
Much later, Remus and I are sitting in a corner of the Common Room, writing and scribbling on a piece of parchment, trying to decide what the plaque should actually say.
âI think âimperativeâ is a better word than âimportantâ,â Remus says. âItâs smarter sounding.â
I scribble out the word âimportantâ, but there is no room to write in the new word, because the page is so full of words and crossings-out anyway.
I throw my quill down, scrunch up the parchment and hurl it across the room. It hits a third year in the head and he looks around gormlessly for a while, but doesnât manage to work out what has happened.
âCome on,â Remus says gently. âWeâre almost there.â
âWhatâs the point?â I ask. âNo oneâs going to read it anyway.â
âIâll read it,â he insists. âEvery time I go past. In fact, Iâll deliberately plan my route so that wherever Iâm going in Hogsmeade, Iâll always pass it and Iâll always stop to read it. Maybe Iâll set up a rota so that thereâs always someone standing in front of it reading. We could have shifts. It would be very organised. James would love it.â
âWhy would James love it?â I ask, wondering what it is about organisation that might fascinate James more than anyone else.
âI dunno,â Remus admits. âHe loves all sorts of crazy things. You wouldnât think he was into self-flagellating musicals, either, to look at him.â
âSelf-what musicals?â
âNothing. Donât worry about it.â I look at him suspiciously for a while, but he refuses to tell me any more. âThe point is, people will read it. We have to make it good. Weâre almost there. Are you sure thereâs not something else up?â
In truth, there is. I still havenât told him about that letter I received last month, or replied to it either.
âItâs just,â I say reluctantly. âI wanted more than some stupid plaque.â
âThis plaque,â he insists, âis not stupid. We did well. More than most people could say. Old McGonagall was great. At least we got something. Maybe itâs better this way. Itâs like she said, it was practically uninhabitable anyway. Is there something else?â
Yes. âNo.â
âAre you sure?â
âWell ... there was this letter. Last time I heard from Aunt Tabby.â
âWasnât that about a month ago? What about it? Is she okay?â
âSheâs fine. Sheâs doing well. Only ...â
âOnly what?â
âShe wants me to go back to work in the holidays. Back to Taffyâs.â
AN: Okay, not exactly that shocking, but I had to end the chapter somewhere and by refusing to go back over the summer, Marty has made herself completely terrified of the place. What should she do? Leave me a review and let me know what you think ...