Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 20
Souvenirs and Conspiracies
Harry left for breakfast early the next morning so that he would have time to check out the photographs on his way to his appointment with Lupin. He found Dennis scrambling up and down a ladder in the main hall while Melanie and Colin assembled the photos into little black frames and handed them to him. Dennis was using his wand to attach the frames magically to the wall so the noise was being kept to a minimum.
Although they had a fair portion of one wall completed, the large table was strewn with photographs from which they were still making their selections. Dennis indicated that he would be grateful if Harry assisted them by choosing some of his favorites, so he pulled up a chair and started going through the stacks of photos.
If anything, Ron’s assessment of the quality of the photographs failed to do them justice. Even though they were not moving wizard photos, the still shots seemed to have captured many of their subjects in that one singular moment that distilled their essence perfectly. There was Lupin rallying the troops on behalf of Godric Gryffindor. Melanie mentioned that they had already hung a close-up of that pose so realistic that it was as if you could actually see his throat moving.
Harry could almost smell the mothballs from the old-fashioned suit and wide cravat that had made up Filch’s costume. Somehow the man had been coaxed to pose with a large shovel held in his right hand and a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else. The effect was that he looked like a macabre undertaker right out of a horror movie. No wonder Ron had said it was brilliant!
There was Professor Sprout dressed as a rotund Snow White dancing with Professor Flitwick, whose pointed cap reached only to her shoulder. Perhaps he had not been dressed as a garden gnome after all, Harry thought; but then looking closely, he noticed that Snow White was wearing a tool belt hung with garden implements. Give Flitwick credit for a bit of clever word-play, Harry concluded.
The hearty Viking, complete with horned helm, was none other than Reggie Smithwick, their ancient Runes teacher. Holding a huge mug of billowing punch aloft, he was toasting something or someone that was outside of the frame.
But his unqualified favorite had to be the photo of Mad-Eye Moody being forcibly restrained by Kingsley Shacklebolt. From the angle at which it had been taken, you could see that the absolutely murderous look on Moody’s face was due to the high-kicking antics of the Hufflepuff boys in the background.
Harry waved the photo aloft to indicate he had found his favorite. Colin admitted that he was particularly proud of having been in the proper spot at the proper time for that one. Harry took the opportunity to inquire if there had been any photos of Ginny, or maybe even Fred as the Headless Horseman.
Sadly, Colin shook his head. “We didn’t have much success with those, I’m afraid. Anything that involved a magical illusion, even some of the facial skins, did not successfully translate onto film. All we got was an explosion of blinding white where the light rays were being manipulated to fool the eye.”
Dennis scurried over and added, “But we haven’t totally given up on those yet, Harry. Professor Slughorn offered to assist us with some more advanced developing techniques that might yet salvage some of those shots. Although, we probably should have taken them with a polarizing filter in the first place.”
“Check back later in the week,” suggested Melanie to Harry. “This is just the first batch.”
Realizing that the time of his appointment with Professor Lupin was drawing dangerously close, Harry gathered his book bag and made to rise from the table. He was stopped about half-way down the hall by Professor McGonagall who motioned him over.
“Am I correct in assuming that you’re on your way to meet with Professor Lupin?” she asked briskly.
“A bit late, actually,” Harry noted sheepishly.
“Well, I won’t keep you but a minute,” she assured him. Handing him a large brown envelope bearing the Professor’s name on it, she entreated, “Please take this to him directly. And Harry, please tell him that regardless of his initial inclination to start deducting house points, remind him that this was placed directly into my hands by those responsible. Do you think you can remember the message?”
Harry repeated it back to make sure and when she gave him a satisfied nod, he took the stairs two at a time to Lupin’s office.
Lupin looked up from the parchment rolls that he was grading when Harry collapsed into the other chair. Putting the essays aside, he walked over to the side table, poured a glass of water, and silently handed it to Harry who was still out of breath. He perched on the end of his desk and waited patiently for Harry to finish gulping the water.
When Harry finally looked up, Lupin remarked, “You should know by now that I’m not going to set you lines for being a few minutes late. So, what’s got you so--”
Wordlessly, Harry handed him the envelope. Lupin was about to break the seal when Harry remembered the message from the headmistress. He repeated it carefully to make sure that he had it right.
Lupin’s playful mood evaporated as he walked solemnly to the other side of the desk and sat down. Then with great deliberation, he broke the seal on the envelope and extracted a single photograph. Lupin stared at the photograph for a very long time, moving his eyes over every detail. His face was unreadable.
“Can you tell me exactly what the headmistress’ words were again, Harry?” he asked softly as he closed the door to the outside corridor. Lupin considered those words very carefully before coming to a decision. “Take a look for yourself,” he offered as he slid the photograph across the desk.
Harry could feel Lupin pacing as he reached out for the photograph, fearful that it might burn his fingers in the process.
He was not prepared for the intensity of the image before him. This was not just a photograph of Lupin and Tonks taking a turn on the dance floor; it was as if the music had stopped and they had continued to dance, totally oblivious to anything around them. The sheer immensity of way they just looked at each other spoke volumes. If anyone were crass enough to misread those feelings, there encircling Lupin’s bicep was the silver cuff whose intricate design mirrored that on the delicate wrist that Tonks was resting on his shoulder.
Harry returned the photograph to the desk, unsure how he should respond. Looking up, he saw that Lupin had stopped pacing and was leaning against the bookshelf studying him very shrewdly.
“Tell me, Harry, were the rest of the photographs that good?”
“Yes.” He was about to elaborate about some of the funnier ones to help lighten the mood when there came a discrete knock on the door.
With the reflexes of a cheetah, Lupin leapt into his seat behind the desk and turned the photograph over in one swift motion. In the next heartbeat, he was bidding the visitor “enter” as he took a deep breath. Only the slightest quivering of Lupin's nostrils betrayed his true state of mind, Harry noticed.
The door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall. “I trust Mr. Potter brought you the envelope,” she inquired tentatively.
“He did.”
“Now, Remus, promise you won’t get angry. Colin brought it directly to me before anyone else got a chance to see it. He assured me that it was one of the first that were developed and--”
“It’s really all right, Minerva.” He’s lying, Harry suddenly surmised, even though Lupin’s control had not slipped an inch. In an offhanded manner, Lupin continued, “I was just asking Harry here if the rest of the photographs were of the same quality.” The slightest edge of insincerity confirmed Harry’s earlier assessment.
“For the most part,” she replied warily. She’s not really fooled, either, Harry concluded. “Oh, for goodness sakes, Remus, he even gave you the negative!”
McGonagall stepped deftly into the room and shook the large envelope over the desk until a small glassine envelope fell out. She held it up so Lupin could see that it contained a small square of film.
“But I actually came up here to ask you about something else,” she began. “Mr. Potter, would you shut the door, please… Yes, you can stay.”
Harry felt like he was watching a tennis match between two evenly matched opponents.
“Forgive me, Minerva, I’m forgetting my manners. Why don’t I get you a chair?” Lupin offered, returning to his customary civil tone. With a flick of his wand, he drew a chair from across the room for the headmistress.
She adjusted her skirts majestically, totally in control of the situation once more. “I assume you left this for Miss Granger earlier today?”
She pulled out another photograph that showed Tonks, Ginny and Hermione deep in conversation at one of the small tables. It must have been before Ginny activated the chameleon effects as she looked like she was wearing an ordinary jumpsuit. Affixed to the bottom edge of the photo was a yellow sticky note with the caption: The Morai.
“I’m sorry, Minerva, I just couldn’t resist. They had only started with the photos when I went down to breakfast. Colin showed me this one because he thought they looked like they were planning to overthrow Parliament or something. Hermione wasn’t offended, was she?”
“Frankly, Remus, I wasn’t sure what to think at first. From outside the Costume Office, all I heard was a small squeal followed by silence. It was only once I barged through the door that I found Hermione laughing silently in her chair. She finally showed me this.”
“Begging your pardon, Headmistress, but Hermione reacts that way when something totally unexpected strikes her as terribly funny,” Harry offered tentatively.
“So this behavior is familiar to you?” McGonagall inquired pointedly.
“Yeah, only she doesn’t react that way very often,” replied Harry, “and it’s usually over a joke that Ron and I don’t get.”
“You mean like this one,” surmised Lupin. “The Moirai is just another name for the Fates in ancient Greek mythology, Harry. They were often depicted as three old ladies quarreling over the destinies of mankind.”
“Kind of like the Costume Office?” Harry concluded, smiling wider the more he thought about it.
“Now, Remus,” continued McGonagall, clearing her throat. “About the note. It really doesn’t do to leave Muggle artifacts where just anyone can find them.” She glanced pointedly at Lupin’s well-worn appointment calendar; there were little bits of yellow poking out from among the pages. “You know how rabid Filch can be about such things and I would hate to have to be the one to spoil your fun.”
Lupin nodded as he tucked the leather bound calendar into his top desk drawer.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters that need my attention,” she announced. With a quick flick of her wand she summoned the photo of the threesome and added Lupin’s words as a printed caption. “I believe this one is destined for my office,” she confided with a wink to Harry.
Pausing at the door, she turned back to Lupin and volunteered, “And Remus, about the other photograph. Take it home to Tonks, I’m sure she will like it very much.” Harry was surprised by the look of unabashed affection that she gave Lupin before she softly closed the door behind her.
From behind his desk, Lupin shook his head in his hands ruefully. “That woman makes me feel like I’m an errant schoolboy all over again,” he admitted.
She certainly knew how to get you out of your mood, Harry thought to himself as he replied, “I thought for a minute she was going to give you detention.”
Lupin looked up and admitted, “I thought so, too!” as they both broke out in laughter.
“Professor,” Harry began hesitantly, “I have some ideas that I’d like to discuss with you.”
“All right.”
“Seems to me that we’ve been learning all these spells -- but you realize that I would never be able to use any of them against Voldemort.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because his wand and mine share a common core that prevents us from dueling one another,” Harry explained. Then in detail, he recounted the events of the night that he had faced Voldemort in the Riddle graveyard and the effects of the Priori Incantatem phenomenon.
Clearly, this was all new information to Lupin and he took a few moments to digest it.
“You had no trouble dueling with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries,” Lupin noted.
“No, I wouldn’t have, though. I have one of only two wands that was made with a phoenix feather core; Voldemort has the other. Mr. Ollivander explained this to me when he sold me my wand before I came to Hogwarts. He indicated that the feathers were actually donated by the same bird.”
“So, the spells will only clash if your wand tries to cast them against Voldemort’s wand,” Lupin summarized. “I see.”
“Well, that’s just it,” Harry continued as he dived into the heart of the issue that had been worrying him. “Selling me that wand was a pretty good safeguard that I wouldn’t be able to dispatch Voldemort “ at least, not by any simple means. So, what if Mr. Ollivander did this on purpose? What if he’s really a Death Eater?”
“So you think that Ollivander disappeared and abandoned his Diagon Alley shop because he’s joined ranks with Voldemort? There are certainly others who have voiced a similar concern….”
“There’s been no word of Mr. Ollivander, then?”
“Nothing.”
“I think I’d like to purchase another wand,” Harry announced with conviction. “A different type of wand.”
“You do realize, Harry, that once your wands no longer clash, Voldemort himself will have a much easier time dispatching you as well.” The intensity in Lupin’s eyes emphasized his words.
Harry gulped involuntarily, then roguishly added, “What’s to say he wouldn’t have found an expedient alternative anyway? This way, at least I have a chance.”
“I see you’ve thought this through quite thoroughly,” Lupin acknowledged with the ghost of a satisfied smile. “If nothing else, an extra wand will serve you as a back-up just in case “ just in case of anything.”
“Will I be able to find another suitable wand? I remember Mr. Ollivander saying that the wand chooses the wizard.”
Lupin considered briefly before answering, “Well, that’s true to some extent; but wizards replace lost and broken wands all the time, so it can’t be that impossible a task. I think you’ve hit upon an excellent plan. What say we make a little side-trip to Dervish & Banges?”
“Today?” Harry practically jumped up from his chair in excitement.
“Unfortunately not,” Lupin replied after taking a quick look out his window. “The weather conditions are just too miserable. But tell you what, I will relay your concerns to the headmistress. Assuming that she concurs with my assessment “ and I’m sure she will “ we’ll go as soon as the weather permits.”
Lupin’s encouraging words acted like a tonic and Harry was in exceptionally good spirits for the remainder of the day. For once, his concerns had not been trivialized or ignored.
His dreams were haunted by the image of Mr. Ollivander saying to him, “You-Know-Who did great and terrible things.” Ollivander’s tone had been mysterious enough the first time around; but in Harry’s nightmares, those same words assumed a darker meaning.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: The first batch of photos from the Ball are posted; Harry presents an innovative plan to Lupin.