Chapter 50
The Fires of Hades
Now that he had a name for Snape’s wife, first wife, Harry reminded himself, he was determined to do a bit more digging in the headmistress’ library.
“Argyle,” Harry enunciated for the truculent gargoyle that impassively jumped out of the way. His knock on the headmistress’ door was answered almost immediately.
“Good day, Harry.” She smiled from behind a desk spread with paperwork. “You just missed Hermione. Ron came to retrieve her for an impromptu picnic by the lake; it’s a beautiful spring day outside. You can probably catch up with them.”
“Thank you, Headmistress, but I really need to do some research before I meet with Professor Lupin this afternoon. Is it all right if I go through to your archives?”
“Help yourself, Harry. Just push Hermione’s things aside, if you need to.” She winked to acknowledge Hermione’s reigning status as the number one library table hog.
It was indeed a glorious day outside, the incessant showers and drizzle of the previous week finally having played themselves out. The impossibly bright green of early spring grasses dotted with the bravest wildflowers flowed almost to the water’s edge. The lake sparkled invitingly even though it was probably cold enough to freeze a person’s extremities within seconds. With the soft light pouring in through the massive curved windows, Harry allowed that it was almost as relaxing as working in the natural light.
It didn’t take long to locate the information he sought among the old copies of the Daily Prophet: a small announcement of the marriage of one Severus Snape to Constance Vladimir in January of the same year as Harry’s birth. The tiny picture was like something out of a history book with its subjects both wearing clothing that would have been in vogue in the previous century. With a complete name, it was much easier to use Lupin’s searching spell to locate the small mention of Constance Vladimir Snape, missing, among the waning days of Voldemort’s previous bid for power.
Harry made copies of the two short articles so he’d have something with which to initiate a conversation with Lupin. As an afterthought, he made one final search of the indexes for the year immediately following Voldemort’s downfall. He was pleasantly surprised when he was directed to a special edition of the Daily Prophet, extra thick and full of large, moving photographs.
There on the fourth page was a long, rambling article detailing unsung heroism in the fight against Voldemort. Harry’s heart sank when he saw that the article bore Rita Skeeter’s byline.
Many are the heroes and heroines that helped to defeat the Dark Wizard who we will no longer name. Many worked tirelessly behind the lines, unpaid and unrecognized, so that the rest of us might live in freedom once again. But none are as anonymous as those who have simply vanished, wiped off the face of the earth as if they had never existed, the lives of their loved ones left with gaping holes that cannot be filled.
Although Ministry officials seek out the smallest clues to try to track these unwilling victims, to locate a body that might help their families to bring their mourning to an eventual end, many trails are simply non-existent. Family members are often too much in shock to come forward with seemingly unimportant details that might help officials bring their suffering to a close. Those that stubbornly cling to hope in the face of despair are often the last to recognize that they are just prolonging their anguish.
Harry wondered how Rita’s journalistic style could have provided inspiration or comfort for any of the families that had been affected during those dark times. He skimmed through the next paragraphs and was halfway through the next column before a family name jumped out at him.
A case in point is that of young Constance Vladimir Snape, newly transported to our rainy isle from the temperate shores of the Black Sea. Married for barely eighteen months, she disappeared from her home in Spinner’s End on a moonless night in mid-June. Although her husband, Severus, was away on unspecified business, neighbors that were keeping a watchful eye on the new bride reported hearing nothing out of the ordinary.
“She was always so quiet and kept to herself,” declared a neighbor who asked to remain anonymous. “She was anxious that evening, but that was always the case when her husband was away. Who could blame her in these uncertain times?”
Her newfound friends describe Constance as very gentle and trusting and a bit confused about everyday life in a foreign land, even though they all confirmed that she spoke perfect English. They reported that her husband, Severus, newly appointed as Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the upcoming term, was so taken with her that he rarely allowed her out of his sight.
“Constance came from a large family herself and it was expected that she would soon start a brood of her own to bring joy and laughter back into that desolate and dreary house,” reported Clara Parkinson who identified herself as a close family friend. Mrs. Parkinson had worked for many years at the nearby textile plant, now defunct, side-by-side with Severus’ mother, Eileen. “We all hoped that Severus had finally found a source of happiness in his life.”
“It was as if sunshine had been brought back into his life when he looked upon her,” Walden Macnair, a school chum and Severus’ longtime friend, confirmed. “And she was just as besotted with him. ‘My Carpathian Prince’ she used to call him.”
Despite his heroic status as the defender of underage wizardry, Severus Snape was not without his dark side. Arrested at age sixteen for severely attacking his Muggle father and leaving the man barely clinging to life, Severus was fully exonerated when the Wizengamot established that he had been acting in defense of his weakened mother. Despite the broader reworking of the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery that his case pioneered, there was no joy at Spinner’s End as both Eileen and Tobias Snape, Severus’ parents, died of seemingly unrelated causes within a year of the court decision that cleared their son of all charges.
Cornelius Fudge, Junior Minister for the Department of Magical Catastrophes, had this to say about the Snape situation, “It was as if a black cloud had followed Severus ever since boyhood. Each accomplishment was purchased at the price of tears and anguish. It looked like he had finally turned his life around for the better.”
But had he truly turned his life around? A list of Severus’ associates from his days as a student at Hogwarts reads like a roster of the most loyal followers of the Dark-Wizard-Who-Will-No-Longer-Be-Named: Rolophus Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, Morton Mulciber. Granted his closest mates, the previously mentioned Walden Macnair, Marcus Avery, Evan Rosier and even Lucius Malfoy have all been absolved of having any association with the perverted coup d’état, but none of their closest family members have disappeared.
An unsubstantiated source who requested anonymity informed this reporter that both Severus Snape and his young bride were rumored to be distantly related to Igor Karkaroff, newly imprisoned for his part in the recent conspiracy to overthrow the Ministry.
Severus’ employer, the much respected Albus Dumbledore, current headmaster of Hogwarts School, had this to say about his employee before the Wizengamot, “Severus Snape is no more a Death Eater than I am.” *
When reached for comment concerning this story, neither Severus Snape nor Albus Dumbledore agreed to cooperate. The headmaster’s sole words were a shameless plea to the Prophet to not run this story.
All this investigative reporting and no one made the most damning connection of all: the one between Snape’s defender before the Wizengamot and the Dark Wizard that they were no longer naming. Hiding behind the name of Riddle should not have been much of a smoke screen to a reporter hell-bent to uncover the truth.
With the sensation of bitter fruit in his mouth, Harry made a copy of the full article and tucked it away with the other snippets. A quick glance at his watch indicated that the time of his appointment with Lupin was drawing near. With one last look in the direction of the students lazing unconcernedly by the lake, Harry concluded that the power of Rita’s words lay in the tarnish with which they painted everyone.
“Thank you so much, Harry,” Lupin beamed as he held the open box with the airplane tie tack in his lap. “How did you know?... It was on my N.E.W.T. scores, naturally… But to have even remembered….”
“It wasn’t difficult, Remus,” Harry allowed with a satisfied smile. “Ron’s birthday is on the first day of the month, it wasn’t that hard to file away the fact that yours is on the tenth.”
“Please tell me you didn’t spend an inordinate amount of money then,” Lupin urged politely.
With relief that he would not have to lie, Harry assured him that he had not. “It’s really only a trinket.”
Lupin placed the box on the small table next to him as they continued with their lesson. His eyes kept straying towards it periodically Harry noted with pleasure.
“Tell me what you think of this,” Harry ventured as he brought forth his copies of the articles from the Daily Prophet.
Lupin took a few minutes to review the longer article and then turned to Harry. “Rita certainly did a superlative job of stirring up innuendo without actually providing any new facts. To think that any journalist would use the words ‘unsubstantiated’, ‘rumored’ and ‘anonymous’ all within the same paragraph.” He shook his head in disgust. “It’s her reporting style that’s scandalous!”
“Do you remember Snape from that period in his life?” Harry prodded.
“Unfortunately, no,” Lupin admitted. “I lost touch with him once we left school. He and I were never friends and I don’t think he had any desire to continue his friendship with Lily once she got married.”
“Wasn’t he present at the meetings of the Order?”
“He wasn’t a member until near the very end. I remember he attended the last meeting escorted by Dumbledore. But, Harry, my memories of that time are very hazy, everything was in such turmoil. We were all convinced that there was a traitor in our midst--”
“Pettigrew,” Harry muttered.
“”and the last thing that we were ready to embrace was another spy, albeit one sanctioned by Dumbledore himself.”
“Perhaps we could review that memory, see if there’s anything significant,” Harry suggested.
“James and Lily are in that memory,” Lupin observed pointedly.
“So much the better.”
“No, so much the worse, Harry,” Lupin returned inexplicably.
“I’m sorry, Remus, I don’t understand….”
Lupin paused to reconsider briefly before volunteering, “I have a different memory we should probably review instead; it will explain a number of things. I, too, honor a pledge I made to Dumbledore.”
“I’m ready.”
A small table was moved into the middle of the room for the Pensieve and they each brought their armchairs closer to obtain the best view. With a twirl of Lupin’s wand, the ghostly images of Dumbledore and Lupin congealed in the air before them.
“This meeting took place in the Leaky Cauldron prior to my return to Hogwarts,” Lupin supplied by way of introduction before the narrative was taken up by the images from the past.
“I will entreat you to take special care of the two orphaned boys: Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom,” Dumbledore advised, looking at Lupin over the rims of his half-moon glasses.
“Has something happened to Alice and Frank that I don’t know about?” Lupin’s voice was laced with immediate concern.
“No, they are still in the same state as before: alive, yet not fully so by any means,” Dumbledore answered solemnly. “In Neville’s case, the term is figurative, but true nonetheless. He will have the advantage in that he’s been nurtured by his grandmother who has surely told him tales of this parents’ heroic exploits.”
“Harry went to live with relatives also.”
“Yes, his mother’s sister and her family, to be exact. But Petunia is nothing like Lily; surely your brief meetings with her in the past demonstrated that. She has campaigned relentlessly since her sister left for Hogwarts at age eleven that the wizarding world does not exist; and when faced with the irrefutable evidence of it, that it is populated by a series of freaks.”
The dismay on Lupin’s face was apparent as he replied, “Oh, Albus, she must’ve reviled Harry all these years. Was there no other way?”
“Unfortunately, his safety was paramount. True, Hagrid reported that Petunia’s husband, Vernon, had systematically sought to stamp out any magical tendencies that young Harry exhibited and kept him woefully in the dark about Lily and James.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Lupin inquired in his most polite manner, “how did Hagrid come by this information?”
Dumbledore smiled gently. “He was my envoy to inform the Muggle household about Hogwarts when Harry was sent his letter of acceptance. It was a role I promised him on the day that he retrieved baby Harry from the rubble of his parents’ home.”
“The home that neither you nor I could see,” Lupin clarified.
“Precisely, Hagrid’s unique abilities proved invaluable that day.”
“Still, to send Hagrid must have come as such a shock to Harry’s aunt and uncle.”
“Don’t forget his cousin, Dudley, also.” Dumbledore’s eyes had resumed the blue twinkle that Harry remembered so well. “Yes, the Dursleys were quite taken aback; but people like them often need to be shocked back into reality… I don’t have to tell you, Remus, that you are the last real tie that Harry has to his parents.”
“There’s always Sirius…” Lupin’s face was unreadable.
“I think we have to accept the likelihood that after all the years he spent in Azkaban, his sense of reality will be more akin to that of Alice and Frank Longbottom.” Dumbledore’s tone was extraordinary gentle.
Lupin offered a grim nod in reply.
“Sooner or later, Harry will learn of your ties to his parents and will want to know more about the time you spent with them. He will hunger for those memories, especially the happy ones. At all costs, Remus, you must resist giving him too much at once or it will be too overwhelming.”
“But, Headmaster, the restriction about discussing personal matters with students is inviolable,” Lupin protested.
“Yet is it a line that gets crossed every day, as you well know,” Dumbledore remarked knowingly. “I trust your judgment in this but I don’t expect you to be super-human, either. You’ll find it difficult to turn away a student in need “ all of us do.”
“What do you propose I do should the situation arise?” Lupin was like a student seeking guidance from his teacher.
“Oh, it will. I can practically guarantee that.” Dumbledore’s smile was full of gentle wisdom. “You may share bits of your past conversationally; but Remus, I cannot stress this enough, do not think to populate his mind with the moving images of a Pensieve. I don’t think Harry has yet learned of the existence of such a device and it would be wise to let it remain so.”
“What is it exactly that makes a Pensieve so off-limits? Please don’t think I question your insight, Albus, I just want to understand for myself.”
“Naturally.” Dumbledore nodded in a kindly manner. “Anything that threatens the systematic fabric of time is dangerous “ and utterly seductive, as well. You, yourself, will feel it if you review your memories in this way. The unmistakable yearning for the impossible, for the reality that is forever beyond your reach. There’s too much tragedy and regret surrounding James’ and Lily’s deaths for it to be otherwise. These same feelings will be much stronger and more overpowering to Harry. At all costs, you both must seek to make your own happy memories and leave the past where it belongs.”
“Yet I have read of instances where a Pensieve was used with great success to reunite someone with memories that had been lost,” Remus volunteered.
“Absolutely, but the distinction is that in those instances, it was the person’s own memories that were being unlocked. It’s different when we give others memories to which they were never entitled, especially memories that occurred before they were born… Please promise me that you’ll adhere to these guidelines, Remus.”
“I agree, Albus.”
“Then I’m prepared to offer you the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts…”
As the ghostly figures melted back into the bowl of the Pensieve, Lupin volunteered to make a pot of tea. Harry watched him go through the motions absently as his own mind was still trying to come to terms with the images he had just witnessed. It was clear that scarcely four years ago, Lupin had been profoundly unhappy. Harry noted that the frequent smiles the memory-Lupin flashed in Dumbledore’s direction never seemed to reach his eyes. The whimsical spark that was so constantly apparent in the man before him today was totally absent. Despite being a few years younger, he had worn the time-weary mantle of a much older man, a man who had accepted the inevitability of his own despair. It was only when Dumbledore offered him the teaching post that Lupin’s expression had betrayed the first fragile fragment of hope.
Lupin’s only remark while reviewing the memory was, “You’ll notice I was a bit thinner then.”
Harry smiled graciously as he accepted a mug of hot tea and brought his attention back to the present. “It’s just like the Mirror of Erised, isn’t it?” he offered as commentary on Dumbledore’s pronouncements.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Still, I see a tiny chink in the restrictions, Remus,” Harry urged, leaning forward in his chair with excitement. “Share with me a memory that I don’t recall but which occurred after I was born.”
“Don’t you remember anything of your parents, Harry?” Lupin asked softly.
Harry presented the unvarnished truth. “Nothing of my first year except for a few scraps from the night Voldemort killed them -- and those were only dredged up when the dementors threatened me.”
“Let me think about it,” Lupin answered noncommittally. “I suppose I could also do the same for Neville.”
“I’m sure he’d welcome any happy memories of his parents,” Harry agreed.
Abruptly Lupin changed the subject. “You keep coming back to the subject of Severus Snape,” he observed.
“His name crops up continually, even when I’m least prepared for it.”
“He’s been a presence in this school for many years. That was to be expected.”
How could he explain it to Lupin? Harry pondered. There were so many things he wished he could share.
“Are you still finding it difficult to close the door on all the unfinished business between you?” Uncannily, Lupin had found a way to voice Harry’s thoughts.
“You could say that.”
“Would it help if we reviewed your memories instead? Try to shed some light on the things that happened the night of Dumbledore’s death?” Lupin proposed.
“It all comes back to that, doesn’t it?” Harry sighed. “All right, Remus, I’m willing if you are.”
“How about we plan for Wednesday night to give ourselves plenty of time then?” Lupin suggested eagerly. “We can relax over dinner while Tonks entertains the Hufflepuffs.”
“Fine by me,” Harry smiled in return. He spent more Wednesday evenings with Lupin than not, he noted inwardly, but it was a ritual he thoroughly enjoyed.
“Fancy some tea with Tonks and me this afternoon?” Lupin offered genially as he glanced as his pocket watch. “Looks like we’ve lost track of time again.”
“Another time, Remus,” Harry responded with only the slightest bit of regret. “Ginny and I both have a bit of free time this evening…”
“Say no more.” Remus laughed in return. “Let it not be said that I stood in the way of such an irresistible force.”
The first thing Harry noted when greeting Lupin was that he was wearing the airplane tie tack. Even though they had both showered and changed clothing after their grueling practice session with Ginny and Tonks, Lupin had inexplicably donned a Gryffindor tie with his casual shirt and jeans. Harry smiled inwardly, glad to have gone to the extra trouble of procuring the gift.
The first unexpected twist of the evening occurred right after they had finished their early supper. Lupin was lingering over a last cup of herbal tea as Harry retrieved his memory strands for the Pensieve. To avoid having to accompany himself through the corridors and secret passages of the castle that fateful evening, Harry had decided to divide the crucial events into two parts. The first portion which included the events atop the Astronomy Tower, was deposited directly into the Pensieve bowl. The second portion that included his confrontation with Snape en route to the school gates was placed into a small glass vial for later. It was a task that required supreme concentration as Harry did not want to inadvertently include any portion relating to the locket. Finally convinced that he had properly apportioned his thoughts, he looked up from his task to find Lupin staring at him with a curious expression.
“Harry, can I ask you a strange question?” Lupin ventured as if stepping on hot coals.
“With as much of myself as I’ve opened up to you, what would make you think I’d consider it so strange?” Harry returned with an amused smile.
“Perhaps you should reserve judgment until you hear the question.”
“Now you’ve really got me curious.”
With a sigh, Lupin countered, “How did you make your heartbeat slow down so? Just now, as you were retrieving the memories.”
Harry stopped to consider his answer. “I didn’t realize I had. But it did seem as if all the ambient noises in the room had dropped away, as if half my consciousness was back on the Astronomy Tower. Could that be what you mean? I know my breathing gets slower when I concentrate so it must have a calming effect… But, Remus, how can you detect someone else’s heartbeat? Is it some kind of charm?”
“It’s just something I can do,” Lupin replied in an off-handed manner that always signaled Harry that something was amiss.
“How long have you had this ability?” Harry asked pointedly.
“Most of my life.” Lupin shrugged, trying to make light of it. “It’s just not something I usually experience unless I haven’t taken my potion and it’s a full moon… It isn’t, I double-checked.”
Lupin’s hesitancy in broaching the subject suddenly became clear. Harry was keenly aware how Lupin felt about being a werewolf; how he felt that it set him apart from the rest of humanity. Harry felt that the man’s N.E.W.T. scores alone would have set him apart, but he also knew that Lupin would never consider those two situations to be analogous. Even though to Harry, they were.
“My own heart was aching to keep pace, but it couldn’t,” Lupin added self-consciously.
“Have you experienced this…phenomenon… any other time? Other than in moonlight, I mean?” Harry couldn’t help but be intrigued.
“A number of weeks ago. The day I disarmed you and Ginny for dueling in anger,” Lupin admitted. “That’s how I was so certain you were angry with me when I sent you from the room.”
Harry had no trouble recalling the incident. “You could hear my heart through a stone wall?”
“The door was cracked, Harry. I don’t think I need to remind you of that.”
“How does angry sound, Remus? I know my heart was hammering, I remember taking a moment to lean against the wall to calm myself down. But that could also mean excitement, fear, over-exertion.”
“True,” Lupin allowed, “but all those other emotions come with a shortness of breath. Anger combines rapid heartbeat with slow, deep breaths “ it’s a unique combination.”
Briefly, Harry wondered how this ability to match heartbeats with another was beneficial to a werewolf “ then decided he truly didn’t want to know.
“Remus, I really think you ought to tell Tonks about this,” Harry urged. “I understand about wanting to stay out of Madam Pomfrey’s rifle-sights, but Tonks would really be upset if you didn’t confide in her.”
“Perhaps it’s just my mind playing tricks on me “ in which case, getting my thoughts off of it is the best remedy,” Lupin remarked good-naturedly as he turned his attention to the swirling mist in the Pensieve. “You do realize that this will have to be a full body immersion? As observers, it’s essential that we don’t overlook any significant details.”
Harry nodded as he acknowledged that Lupin had effectively closed the door on the previous discussion. He had already anticipated that they would be transporting themselves bodily into the memory in order to take full advantage of the different viewing angles that would allow them.
“A bit of courage then,” Lupin suggested solemnly as he retrieved a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey from the back of the cabinet. He poured no more than a swallow in their empty tea mugs before placing the bottle on the polished sideboard. With his usual toast to Godric Gryffindor, Lupin downed the liquid in one gulp.
Harry followed suit and felt his eyes water in immediate shock. The whiskey exploded in his stomach like he’d swallowed some of Weasleys’ infamous Whizz Bang fireworks. As the impossibly warm sensation dissipated, he was finally able to take a deep breath.
“People actually drink this for pleasure?” Harry wheezed.
“Cast iron stomachs,” Lupin remarked with considerably less effort.
Lupin stood beside Harry and grasped his upper arm firmly as if preparing for a Side-Along Apparition. With a deep breath, Harry tipped his head into the ever-shifting mass in the bowl and succumbed to the familiar tumbling sensation. With that bit of Firewhiskey in his stomach, there was an extra element of dizziness that accompanied his fall, making him feel that much more disoriented in his new surroundings. Had it not been for Lupin’s steadying hold, he would surely have lost his footing.
The first sensation that unfogged his mind was the immediate change of climate. Suddenly, his sweatshirt was stifling hot in the midst of a balmy summer night. He fanned the fabric away from his body and was rewarded as a light breeze stirred in the air around him, cooling his skin somewhat.
“Some of that is the residual effect of the Firewhiskey,” Lupin whispered in Harry’s ear as he loosened his own tie a bit.
As soon as the breeze died down, Harry could feel the charged particles in the air around them as if they were about to be struck by lightning. But the only thing that came hurdling towards the Astronomy Tower heights were two broomsticks, one empty and the other with Albus Dumbledore astride. Harry was struck by how grey the headmaster’s skin looked as well as the rivulets of perspiration pouring down his anguished face.
“Albus already looks like he’s half-dead,” Lupin breathed then gasped audibly when the headmaster’s withered hand was clearly visible as he dismounted from the broom. In the background, Harry heard the unmistakable sound of the broomstick he’d been riding himself clattering down on the roof tiles.
“Please don’t ask where we’ve been,” Harry warned. “That’s part of what I can’t tell you. I’m over there next to the empty broom, under my Invisibility Cloak.”
Harry watched with renewed horror as the familiar events of that epic night replayed themselves before his eyes. He provided guidance where it was warranted, such as the moment when Dumbledore had immobilized him. Mostly, though, he let the action speak for itself.
They were standing much closer to the trapdoor than he had been that night and it seemed to explode at their feet each time another person arrived on the tower ramparts. He’d forgotten the fetid stench that emanated from Fenrir Greyback. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lupin visibly flinch every time the other werewolf spoke. The look of fear mixed with revulsion that painted Lupin’s face during those moments made Harry wonder whether Lupin would regret having suggested this journey.
When Snape burst onto the scene, it was as if darkness had suddenly eclipsed the pale moonlight. With a raptor’s gaze, he took in the situation immediately, barely hesitating as his eyes passed over the abandoned broomstick on the far side of the tower. The black malevolence of his stare was directed equally at Dumbledore, Draco and the other Death Eaters.
In contrast, the headmaster seemed as a supplicant before an angry and vengeful god. His watery eyes blazed from his waxy skin as if they beheld the most beautiful sight in the universe. Harry felt his own eyes filling with tears as he heard the raspy voice practically sob, “Severus, please….” ** There was no doubt that in Dumbledore’s mental state, he saw Snape as an angelic presence.
The killing stroke that Snape delivered was animalistic and primal in its intensity, yet Dumbledore’s expression was one of mute acceptance “ a detail that Harry had not noticed before. Was it a product of the hallucinations that the once mighty wizard had been suffering in the accursed cave or was he seeing an ethereal presence invisible to the rest of them?
Lupin grabbed Harry in alarm as the empty shell that had been their beloved headmaster tumbled beyond the ancient battlements of the tower. Harry, too, felt the overwhelming sense of loss as if his broken dreams had followed the same trajectory. He would have swayed unsteadily had Lupin not been restraining him.
Greyback and the first two Death Eaters were already retreating down the stairs as Harry returned his attention to the trapdoor. With a countenance even darker than the night sky, Snape took one last look around and then disappeared nimbly down the stairs like a swirl of black wings. The sounds of the raging battle below could be heard as the last Death Eater hesitated briefly. Harry watched his alter ego throw off the Invisibility Cloak, Petrify the Death Eater, and then disappear down the curving stairs in pursuit of the others.
Lupin caught the edge of the trapdoor before it could clatter closed but Harry indicated that there was no need to follow as this portion of the memory would be ending shortly.
“There’s just one more bit that I wanted you to hear,” he whispered to Lupin.
From below came Snape’s voice announcing, “It’s over,” *** in a tone so devoid of feeling that it could have signified the greatest triumph just as easily as the deepest despair. With an echoing thud that only seemed to emphasize Snape’s dismissive words, Lupin allowed the trapdoor to slam shut.
In the same instant they were unceremoniously returned to Lupin’s office. Harry felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as he experienced another brief bout of vertigo. Lupin stumbled next to him and barely staggered into the nearest armchair. Harry did likewise to allow his reeling stomach to calm itself.
With utmost care, Harry laid his glasses on the nearby table and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Despite his blurry vision, he could see that Lupin was dabbing at this own face with a hastily procured handkerchief. Not knowing what to say, Harry wordlessly retrieved the shimmering mass from the Pensieve and allowed it to return to his brain. The sensation was a pale echo of the satisfaction that usually accompanied this simple act.
He hesitated with the vial containing his next memory poised over the Pensieve. Turning back in Lupin’s direction, Harry found that the man had risen soundlessly from his chair and was standing next to the sideboard. Lupin visibly steeled himself before retrieving two clear tumblers from the cabinet below. He poured a generous inch of amber liquid in the first glass before looking in Harry’s direction.
“Something to calm your nerves?” he offered with a raised eyebrow.
“You go ahead, Remus,” Harry replied. “The first one made me dizzy enough as it was.”
With a somber nod, Lupin downed the Firewhiskey in three consecutive gulps. Then after a few breaths, he made his way slowly back to the armchair.
“That was a terrible thing you had to witness, Harry,” he declared softly, his voice grainy as if he’d been shouting for hours on end.
“Would you rather we wait for another day to review the rest of it?” Harry posed, feeling numb.
“No,” Lupin replied stubbornly. “I don’t want to dilute the full effect regardless of how horrific it turns out to be. You didn’t get a reprieve when you experienced it firsthand.”
“No, I didn’t.” Harry sighed in capitulation. “Come before I lose my courage.”
In the same configuration as before, they fell through the milky mists of the Pensieve once again. This time it was the darkness of their surroundings that came as a shock. Allowing his eyes a few moments to adjust to the moonlight, Harry saw that they were outside the school with the long expanse of lawn before them. The small squares of light in the distance were the windows to Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but it was too dark to discern where the tops of the trees ended and the night sky began. To their left were the great oak doors where his alter ego would be exiting any minute now.
A large patch of light on the lawn was the first indication that the doors had been thrust open. The silhouettes of Draco, Snape and an anonymous Death Eater were illuminated briefly before being swallowed up by the night.
“Let’s catch up with them,” Harry urged Lupin. “The other me will be coming up right behind. If we stay focused on the light from the doorway, though, we’ll blind ourselves to the dark all over again.”
They set off at a trot, almost catching up with the escaping trio before shouts alerted them that the other Harry was in pursuit. He started to explain how he’d been able to bypass the other Death Eaters that were now silhouetted in the door behind them, but his words were abruptly drowned out by the sound of a howling dog. The first Death Eater must have already set Hagrid’s hut on fire. Even though Harry knew that Hagrid had rescued Fang, the panicked sounds were still unsettling. As the flames started to engulf the wood frame hut, they intensified into the unearthly wails of a demon from the depths of hell.
Snape turned back to confront Harry directly, his face a mask of pure hatred. The observers circled to get a better view as the flames behind Snape threatened the throw his features into shadow. Snape assumed the shape of a demon himself as he spat insults and spells in Harry’s direction. He was a man possessed, a man who had finally reached his breaking point.
They followed Snape as he closed in on the school gates even though the other Harry had been left behind. But there was nothing to see as Snape grabbed Draco roughly by the arm and practically threw him past the wrought iron gates. He looked in Draco’s direction as little as possible, but when he did, his eyes unleashed the same fathomless hatred that he’d turned on Harry. Just as Harry had surmised the first time around, Snape and Draco were soon joined by the fleeing Death Eaters. With one last disdainful look towards the castle, Snape quickly relocked the gates with a simple wand movement and Disapparated into the night.
Mercifully, Fang’s howls had stopped by the time Harry and Lupin trudged back up the sloping lawn to where Hagrid was dowsing the smoldering remains of his wooden hut. Fang’s tail as still smoking slightly but he was scampering around so happily that the other Harry could not seem to hit him with the jet of water from his wand.
Without any warning, the memory ended just as Hagrid was turning to say something and they were once again in Lupin’s inner office. It took Harry a few moments to readjust his eyes to the additional brightness and to shake the ringing from his ears that the sudden cessation of Fang’s frenzied barking had caused.
Lupin eased himself silently into his armchair and turned a haggard face to look at Harry. “It was as if a psychotic banshee was keening in the background the whole time. The hair on my arms still hasn’t returned to normal,” he added, rubbing his hands up and down his forearms repeatedly.
Harry was struck by how bloodless Lupin’s face looked as the man stared vacantly into the dying fire in the grate. Concerned that this last excursion had proven to be too much, Harry sat on the footstool at Lupin’s feet and searched the man’s face intently.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Remus? You’re looking rather pale all of a sudden.”
“I’ll be fine, just give me a moment,” Lupin assured him with a weak smile. “Does it seem suddenly warm in here to you?”
Harry watched with mounting alarm as Lupin loosened his tie with unsteady fingers, fumbling with the airplane tie tack as he hastened to make himself more comfortable. Harry reached over and unclasped the tie tack himself, carefully replacing the nut on the backside and depositing it gently on the side table where it would be found. Returning his attention to Lupin, Harry could see that a slight sheen of perspiration had broken out on his forehead.
“Remus, you’re definitely not feeling well! I’ll go for Madam Pomfrey.”
As Harry rose from the stool, Lupin caught his arm in an iron grip despite shaking fingers.
“Don’t, there’s really no need,” he implored. “I have the medication that she gave me!” An edge of desperation had entered into Lupin’s voice that Harry found extremely unsettling “ it sounded too much like the tone of Dumbledore’s last words.
Uncertainly, Harry sat back down on the footstool. He watched Lupin’s entire body relax as he released Harry’s arm slowly.
“Have you felt like this before, Remus?” Harry inquired softly, but Lupin shook his head. “Describe the sensations then,” he demanded, feeling that he was surely out of his depth here. “Let me call for Tonks. Remus, please!”
“Please don’t leave me alone right now, Harry.” Lupin’s words were barely a whisper. “Things will improve once I take the medication. Please see if you can find something non-alcoholic to dilute it with. Check the back cabinet; I think Tonks put a few bottles of ginger beer there.”
Harry hastened to obey but as he searched fruitlessly, he offered an alternative, “Couldn’t you just use water?”
“Yes, but the nearest tap is in the men’s bathroom at the far end of the hall. Please try the other cabinet.”
Harry finally returned with a dusty bottle that he wiped off with his sweatshirt and then used the thick fabric to cushion his fingers as he unscrewed the metal lid.
“Bring the unused glass, the one that I left on the sideboard there.”
Harry located the empty glass and brought it over to the small table. Lupin was staring at a small dark bottle with an eyedropper that he’d removed from his trousers pocket.
“You’ll have to pour for me, about half a glass should do.”
Harry complied and then resumed his post on the footstool, holding out the glass to Lupin. Lupin hesitated for a long time as if mesmerized by the tiny soda bubbles that lazily rose to the surface of the pale liquid. With a conscious decision, he dropped exactly eight drops of the deep blue tincture into the glass. Immediately the contents of the tumbler changed to a brilliant, glowing shade of lavender. Even through the glass, Harry could feel the liquid had turned ice cold.
“Has it turned cold yet? I need your reliable assessment.”
“Yes, it feels like ice, Remus. But please tell me what’s going on.”
Lupin nodded glumly. “Just set the glass on the table there, it will be fine for a moment. Now give me your hand and I’ll show you.”
Lupin’s fingers felt unusually hot as he guided Harry’s hand until the palm rested squarely on his chest.
“Can you feel the rhythm of my breathing?” he asked Harry.
Lupin’s breaths seemed calm and even.
“Now contrast that with my heartbeat.”
Harry moved his hand slightly to get a better angle. His eyes widened in alarm when he felt that Lupin’s heart was racing.
“Remus, I’m going for help!” Harry reiterated. “Perhaps the headmistress…”
“NO!” Lupin grabbed Harry’s wrist in a fierce grip that felt likely to leave bruises. “Give the medication time to work first -- then you can go. Right now I would prefer that you not leave me alone.”
Lupin waited until Harry nodded grimly before releasing his grip. Then he reached over for the glowing glass and downed the contents in a series of long swallows. With a deep sigh of resignation, he reclined his head on the high back of the chair.
“Now we wait,” Lupin announced stoically.
“You know it would really help if you taught me how to send that Patronus message the Order members use,” Harry suggested in desperation.
“Yes, it would,” Lupin agreed without moving a muscle. “But not tonight.”
Hoping that Lupin was actually more frightened than anything else, Harry talked of trivial matters that came to mind, stories of pranks that Dudley had played on him when he was little “ somehow they didn’t seem as mean-spirited in the retelling. He could tell that Lupin was listening as he followed with his eyes, even smiling and chuckling feebly when it was appropriate.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than forty-five minutes, Lupin spoke up, “Will you please check to see if my pulse has slowed, Harry? I hate to impose but it’s hard to get a true indication otherwise.”
“Glad to help,” Harry offered as he placed his open palm on Lupin’s shirtfront. Lupin’s heartbeat had slowed considerably, but was probably still not as slow as it should be when Harry compared it with his own.
“Definitely an improvement,” Harry reported with a broad smile. “Now can I go for help?”
“You’ve just told me that there’s no need to do so,” Lupin returned, sounding remarkably like his usual infuriating self. But Harry could still see the vestiges of anxiety in Lupin’s face and he was not about to rest until he contacted someone in a position to help. They needed to hear that bit about sensing other people’s heartbeats as well.
Harry made a pot of tea and allowed Lupin to resume his usual manner of conversation for a short while. Once he saw Lupin start to nod off, though, he slipped into the outer office where he could still keep his eye on things but had a bit of privacy as well.
Even though he’d cast a hurried muffliato charm, he whispered just to be extra careful, “Dobby, can you hear me? It’s Harry, I need your help.”
Before he even had a chance to explain where he was, Dobby Apparated in front of him.
“How can Dobby be of assistance to Harry Potter today?” The elf bobbed happily.
“Please find Professor Tonks, she should be in the Hufflepuff common room. Professor Lupin has taken ill. Tell her to come immediately, but to please not raise any undue alarms. Can you do that, Dobby? This is very important.”
Dobby repeated the message eagerly and correctly. When Harry nodded to indicate that he was satisfied, the elf Disapparated with a muffled pop.
Harry returned to the inner office to wait for Tonks, noting that Lupin had dozed off in his chair. His breathing seemed slow and deep but Harry didn’t dare to check his pulse for fear of waking him needlessly.
Within minutes, Harry heard the sharp sound of footsteps outside in the corridor. He raced to the door and opened it to find Tonks just reaching for the knob.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Harry whispered. “Please don’t let on that I called you, he was most insistent about that.”
Tonks flashed a reassuring smile in Harry’s direction. “I know how he can be, Harry. Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out.”
She patted Harry’s arm in a comforting manner as her eyes searched the room anxiously for her husband. Seeing him asleep in the armchair, she rushed over and knelt by his side. With practiced skill, she quickly checked the pulse in his wrist and pressed a light kiss on his forehead to check that his temperature was normal. Her eye caught the empty glass on the side table with the small bottle next to it.
“Am I correct that he took his medication?” she asked, turning to Harry for corroboration. “Can you confirm the dosage?”
Harry nodded and supplied, “Eight drops, he was very meticulous about it.” Anticipating her next question, he added, “He mixed it with ginger beer; it turned the liquid a most peculiar shade of lilac, ice-cold to the touch.”
Tonks nodded to indicate her approval. “Then he’s just fallen asleep from the sedative.”
She excused herself briefly and returned with a blanket from the small dining room, explaining that it was often drafty in the window seat. Tucking the blanket securely around Lupin’s body, she returned her attention to Harry.
“How much Firewhiskey did he drink?”
“No more than two shots at the most,” Harry stammered as Tonks checked the level of the leftover liquid in the bottle.
“And you?”
“Only a small swallow,” he admitted. “I can’t say I liked the sensation much.”
“Fine, you didn’t strike me as one whose judgment had been impaired.” She smiled gently in his direction. “Come into the other room so we won’t disturb Remus and tell me what happened.”
Tonks left the door to the inner office slightly ajar so she could keep a close watch from where she positioned her chair. Harry locked the door to the corridor before assuming a seat where he could face her comfortably. With a deep breath, he briefly summarized the events of the evening, detailing Lupin’s symptoms once they returned from viewing the second memory.
“I’m sorry I agreed to this, Tonks,” he concluded candidly. “It was just as intense the second time around, only we were truly helpless to affect any of the events. I should’ve realized it was going to be too harrowing an experience for Remus.”
“Nonsense. Remus is a grown man, Harry, much more experienced in magical devices that you and I will likely ever be. He knew what he was getting into. He just doesn’t want to restrict his activities in any way “ regardless of his current circumstances. I suppose it’s his way of thumbing his nose at the world.” She sighed. “It’s a wonder he actually took some of the medication.”
“He doesn’t do that on a regular basis?” Harry asked gingerly.
Tonks shook her head. “This is a first.”
“Perhaps it’s not always convenient to sack out for a wee nap,” Harry suggested.
“The dosage can be adjusted to minimize that. Remus just prefers to take a swig of cognac to calm his nerves, claims it’s a more natural remedy. Too many years of clean living, I suppose.” She smiled unexpectedly. “Can’t blame him for not wanting to contaminate his body with narcotics. He’s moved on to Firewhiskey now that he single-handedly finished the two bottles of cognac Dad gave him for Christmas. Leave it to Dad to instill Remus with such an expensive habit. It was all I could do to keep him from sending more bottles for Remus’ birthday.”
“Tonks, I don’t think Remus was expecting to be so overcome this evening. He was genuinely frightened,” Harry volunteered.
“I could tell by the dosage he took, Harry,” she returned. “That’s why he was so adamant that you not leave his side. Too many childhood memories of being shut away, alone in the cellar, not understanding the horrific transformations that he was powerless to avoid.”
“Has he been telling you about the peculiar...side effects he’s been experiencing?” Harry ventured timidly.
“Not very often,” conceded Tonks. “You mean there’s more?”
Harry nodded his head solemnly.
“Can we discuss it in more detail tomorrow? I assure you I want to hear every infinitesimal detail, but right now I’d like to get Madam Pomfrey to look Remus over before it gets any later.”
“You’re certain he’s going to be all right?” Harry posed anxiously.
“Absolutely. The medication did exactly what it was supposed to do. Will you stay with him while I walk down to the Hospital Wing?”
“Sure, Tonks. Glad I could help.”
“Let’s make the office a bit more presentable then. I’ll leave it to you to put away the Pensieve “ after you retrieve your final memory, that is.”
With a start, Harry realized that he’d been so concerned about Remus that he’d totally forgotten to finish the task at hand. He watched as Tonks put away the Firewhiskey and took the tea mugs and one of the glass tumblers into the small dining room. As Harry made to pick up the other glass, she shook her head.
“Please leave that one where it is. Poppy will be pleased to see for herself that Remus actually followed her advice “ even if it’s just this one time… Just in case I don’t get a chance to say so later, thank you so much for taking such good care of Remus, Harry. I’ll teach you how to send a Patronus message before you leave tonight, no excuses.” Tonks wrapped her arms around Harry in a tight hug and then reached up to kiss his cheek gently. “How are you feeling yourself?” she asked, her eyes searching his face. “Will you be all right back in your room?”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking, Tonks.” He smiled down at her, slightly embarrassed. “Are you sure you don’t want to run away with me? Now’s your chance before you have to worry about Madam Pomfrey as an unnecessary witness.”
Tonks giggled in spite of herself as she stepped away from Harry. With a final look in her husband’s direction, she turned in the direction of the Hospital Wing.
* paraphrased from page 591, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, American hardback
edition
** page 595, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, American hardback edition.
*** page 621, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, American hardback edition.