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 51
Pandora’s Box
Harry woke in the middle of the night wishing he’d accepted Madam Pomfrey’s offer of a sleeping draught. His restless dreams had been haunted by the sounds of an unearthly howling that led him relentlessly through the mists until he found its source. Sometimes he discovered a fierce three-headed dog, two heads continuing to wail while the third one attempted to attack him. Other times, it was issuing from a Greek chorus of dementors that had gathered to watch one of their fellows perform the ultimate kiss on Lupin.
Finally despairing of getting any rest, he rose in search of something cold to drink. It was when he returned to his room, frosty butterbeer in hand, that he was alerted to the coming storm by a fierce flash of lightning. The thunder followed almost immediately, drowning out the mournful sound of the wind whipping through the Forbidden Forest. So much for the inescapable wailing in his dreams, Harry concluded. He closed the latch on his window just as driving sheets of rain unleashed their fury without warning. Sinking down gratefully into his warm, dry sheets, Harry allowed the sound of the rain to lull him back to sleep.
Someone was shaking him awake much too early, the thought floated aimlessly in his mind.
“Tonks is here to see you, Harry,” Neville whispered urgently. “She doesn’t have a lot of time before her first class this morning.”
Still half-asleep, he felt around for his glasses on the bedside cabinet only to have Neville reach across and press them into his hand. Finally awake, Harry ran his fingers self-consciously through his tousled hair before throwing on his dressing gown.
Tonks was waiting for him near the fireplace.
“Has something happened to Remus?” Harry asked, giving in to his gut fear.
“He’s just fine, Harry,” Tonks assured him with a smile. “Thought you might like an update before I went to my first class. I left him in the residence, sitting down to a hearty breakfast and debating over his choice of tie. Don’t take my word for it, stop by and check on him for yourself. He has a few short breaks between classes this morning.”
“You could’ve just sent me a Patronus message,” Harry suggested.
“Those are only for emergencies,” she warned, “or the Order members will be on my back for teaching you.”
“You don’t think Remus will pen you a nice excuse?” Harry grinned.
“He’s more likely to be in charge of my punishment,” she scoffed. “He also wanted me to remind you that he has you down for three this afternoon.”
“I won’t forget,” Harry assured her, returning her smile.
“You still want to discuss the side-effects he’s been experiencing?”
Harry nodded solemnly.
“Can you meet me for lunch in my offices today, one o’clock? Remus has a conflict at that hour so you can keep him out of the equation, if you prefer.”
“Count on it.”
After the memories he’d revisited, Harry was anxious to delve more deeply into the events of that tragic night during his next conversation with Snape. As if sensing Harry’s desire to explore his less caustic side, Snape thrust the conversation in unexpected directions. It wasn’t long before Harry had lost control of the situation entirely.
“Rumor has it your dear professor had himself in a right state last night,” Snape intimated darkly.
Harry was taken aback but was determined not to show it. “You should check your source of information,” he returned dismissively. “That version is as skewed from reality as one of Rita Skeeter’s interviews.”
“Poppy Pomfrey doesn’t have enough imagination to stretch the truth -- even if she wanted to.” Snape scowled. “It comes second-hand from her, if you must know!”
“Lupin just over-exerted himself is all,” Harry conceded.
“Over dinner and a bit of conversation? Unless he had to hunt down his meat personally, I sincerely doubt that explanation, Potter. Did you plow through the Amazon jungle in the Room of Requirement?”
“Hardly.”
“Kilimanjaro? Did you revisit the summits through the Pensieve? You wouldn’t have had to leave his office for that.”
Snape’s infuriating manner was guaranteed to put him off so Harry opted to remain silent.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Snape latched on to the barest thread. “The two of you reviewed a poignant memory from his past in the Pensieve? Stirred up a bit of controversy. Where did you go? Some bullying from Lupin’s early days at Hogwarts?”
“If you must know, we revisited your murder of Dumbledore atop the Astronomy Tower!” Harry retorted with a sudden flash of indignation.
Snape paused to consider the implications. “So there was someone else present,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Was there anyone else on that second broomstick? Your closest buddies were fighting for their very lives in the halls below so it couldn’t have been any of them.”
“I was alone “ alone with Dumbledore, that is.”
“How touching. So it’s just your version of the events versus mine, isn’t it? I just bet no one doubts your eyewitness account, do they? Those fools always allow sentimentality to get in the way of reason.”
Harry had become so accustomed to Snape’s condescending tone that he had no trouble ignoring it. “There were other witnesses,” he maintained.
“I doubt Draco’s sent you a nice bit of parchment with his statement, not if he wishes to remain alive. As for Fenrir, he’s not much of a correspondent and his spelling is simply atrocious. The Carrows try to keep up with the social niceties, but their notes all seem to be written in the most peculiar brownish ink--”
“Enough! I have no desire to take a trip down your corpse-lined memory lane!”
“Why not? You were all too willing to drag Lupin along yours,” Snape volleyed back with barely masked triumph.
“He asked to see those memories to help me make some sense of that night.” Harry was rapidly losing his last shred of patience. “Those events still haunt me!”
“They haunt me also, Potter,” Snape returned in a low, ominous tone.
“I’m still trying to understand why you would leave such a trail of arson and death in your wake. Hardly the actions of a man who maintains he has never betrayed the Order.”
“Surely, you’re not trying to influence Lupin on my behalf?”
“No, that wasn’t my goal last night,” Harry admitted. “But it’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“In due course,” Snape allowed. “But surely the scenes of mayhem you shared with your professor were no worse than what he experienced firsthand. It was a fierce confrontation inside the tower that night, Lupin must have found himself readily out numbered. His over-reaction still makes no sense.”
“His circumstances are different now.” Harry tiptoed around the truth. “He’s not supposed to over-tax himself.”
“Surely you don’t mean his Wolfsbane Potion isn’t being brewed properly?”
“If that’s even what he’s taking these days…”
“Of course, it’s Wolfsbane!” Snape shot back. “Nothing else would work on a werewolf, they have a particularly stubborn metabolism… Surely they haven’t been tinkering with the formula? Tell me, Potter, because his little wife is not experienced enough with potions to be branching off on her own!”
Harry swallowed convulsively. “There was an exotic ingredient she discovered on their honeymoon.”
“Could it be hibiscus pollen? Think, Potter! Anything related to the hibiscus plant?”
“I’m certain she’s never told me,” Harry remarked in dismay. “And it’s not the thing that accidentally pops up in casual conversation, either!”
Snape fixed Harry with his most piercing look. “I suggest you find out, Potter. If you value the continued good health of your precious professor, I suggest you find out!”
With hardly a ripple, the mirror returned to its impassive silver surface.
Unsure whether he had just been threatened or whether Snape had just presented him with a tacit offer of assistance, Harry felt as if he had lost his bearings in a minefield. Perhaps the situation wasn’t as black as Snape painted it; the man did have an uncanny knack for melodrama. But then again, how far was he willing to gamble with Lupin’s well-being?
His fingers fumbled with impatience as he unfolded the daily timetables Tonks had written out for him the previous evening. Lupin had back-to-back classes most of the morning, but there was nothing to stop Harry from sticking his head in the door to say hello. Double-checking the time, he saw that one class was due to end in fifteen minutes. He needed to be outside the Transfiguration classroom when that class let out.
With one last attempt to tame his unruly hair, he practically dove out the stone scone and down the grand staircase. Harry took a couple of unorthodox short-cuts without giving it a moment’s thought and was leisurely gazing out into the courtyard when the students started to emerge. He entered as soon as he could do so without having to ford the flow of bodies moving in the opposite direction. Lupin had an unusually long line of third years waiting to speak with him after class.
Harry settled himself at the nearest desk to wait it out. Lupin certainly looked healthy enough from a distance, no dark circles under his eyes that Harry could discern. Lupin glanced up unexpectedly, automatically returning Harry’s smile before redirecting his attention to his group of supplicants. Harry did not hear the soft words that were uttered next, but the students dissolved out the door like so much smoke.
Lupin rose from behind the desk, taking a moment to close the classroom door as a matter of course. He pulled up the nearest chair and sat down next to Harry.
“Tonks told me to expect you to drop by today.” He flashed the trademark Marauder grin. “Said you’d want to pinch me to make sure I wasn’t a hallucination.” Lupin held out his arm invitingly.
“I don’t think she meant that literally,” Harry allowed with a laugh.
“I’m sorry it turned out to be such a rough night.”
“I’m just relieved you’re feeling better today, Remus. You really gave me a scare last night.”
“I suppose that’s why I was submitted to the unholy prodding of Poppy Pomfrey instead of just being allowed to stumble into bed,” Lupin noted wryly. “You should have seen her carrying on. You’d think she’d never had a patient who followed her instructions and lived to tell the tale!”
“She’ll be applying for sainthood next,” Harry returned in kind.
“Wait, that’s not right,” Lupin responded in mock seriousness. “Isn’t martyrdom first, then sainthood?”
“Leave it to ol’ Poppy to get that confused.”
They looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing like idiots. No doubt about it, Harry thought to himself, Lupin was back to his usual self.
It was not until a few days later that Lupin felt he’d had enough time to fully digest the memories that Harry had shared with him.
“You’re ready to offer me some insight?” Harry asked hopefully.
“Not as much as I would have liked, I’m afraid,” Lupin replied. “Snape’s actions are unfathomable much of the time. For instance, the anger he turns on you in the middle of his escape seems so excessive. Why didn’t he just continue on his way to the gates? What did he have to gain by that confrontation? I don’t recall seeing him lose his temper, so I don’t even have a point of reference.”
Harry stopped to think for a moment and then offered, “I have. Although I haven’t thought about it in a long time. Do you think we should review that memory through the Pensieve?”
“Tell me about it first. I’m not too keen on diving right back into the Pensieve, if you don’t mind.”
“Right. It was just after Sirius escaped astride Buckbeak, the same night in fact. Ron, Hermione and I were in the Hospital Wing and I overheard Snape having a rather loud discussion with Fudge.”
“The Minister of Magic?” Lupin clarified. “I suppose I was still in the Forbidden Forest during this exchange.”
Harry nodded to both counts then continued, “Snape was ecstatic that he would be the one to turn Sirius over to the Ministry. When the escape was discovered he was livid, practically sputtering with rage. I remember feeling that his reaction was totally out of proportion.”
“He had a lot riding on that. Drunk with triumph at his long awaited vindication, to paraphrase Dumbledore.” Seeing Harry’s puzzled look, Lupin clarified, “Throughout the years, Snape had amassed a long list that he attributed to Sirius, slights both small and large, real and imaginary. Sirius’ innocence was just another disappointment in a life full of disappointments. It wasn’t easy for the Order to convince Snape that it was indeed Pettigrew who had signed on with Voldemort.”
“I can’t believe I hadn’t made the connection sooner, Remus. Dumbledore used the same words himself when Fudge commented that Snape seemed quite unbalanced. Dumbledore replied that he had been severely disappointed is all.* You could actually hear the amusement in Dumbledore’s voice as if the whole thing were nothing but a childish tantrum. It all seems so clear now.”
His interest piqued, Lupin trained his gaze fully upon Harry and proposed, “Then if we treat the two situations as parallel, what could possibly have disappointed Snape so thoroughly? He should’ve been gloating that he’d managed to outsmart such a great and powerful wizard.”
“I think it was Draco’s inability to finish the task himself,” Harry supplied. “Snape could hardly bear to look in his direction when they were at the gates.”
“But why? The end result was the same whether Dumbledore died by Draco’s hand or by Snape’s. If they were both agents in the same dark army, then it didn’t matter who did the deed; those are the simple rules of warfare,” Lupin insisted.
“Unless Snape didn’t want to be forced to commit the deed himself, didn’t want his cover to be blown to pieces.”
“But, Harry, what else would there have been for him to accomplish if he’d remained at Hogwarts? Striking at the heart of the school was a masterful stroke designed to bring everyone to their knees.”
“That’s just it, though, why didn’t they finish us off right then and there? This has bothered me for a long time, Remus. Snape had me dead in his sights after he disarmed me. If we accept the fact that he was saving me for Voldemort, why wasn’t Voldemort already waiting in the wings? He must have known that the school was to be attacked that night, additional Death Eaters were sent as reinforcements.”
“Not if we consider that Snape was unaware of the timing of the attack,” Lupin mused. “Hermione said as much when she went in search of his assistance. He was totally oblivious to what was going on in the other part of the castle, it was Flitwick who alerted him.”
“But he lends them his help anyway?” Harry cried. “That doesn’t sound like Snape at all! He’d be offended that he’d been excluded from their plans and just stand by watching them fail. That would have given him a great measure of satisfaction.”
“I tend to agree with that. But if we concur that Snape was angry, that emotion alone would not have been enough to generate the Killing Curse he used.”
“Not even if he was angry at Dumbledore himself for having forced his hand? I think Snape has always felt that he had no real choices in life and this was just the ultimate demonstration of that.”
“Everyone has choices.”
“True, but Snape felt that he didn’t. It doesn’t have to be true for him to convince himself of it.”
“What makes you think that so strongly, Harry?”
“Did you notice Dumbledore’s expression when Snape went to kill him? Grim compliance. Dumbledore knew what was coming once Snape arrived on the scene.”
“How would Dumbledore have allowed him to remain at Hogwarts if he’d already seen the unrepentant evil in Snape’s heart?” Lupin considered rhetorically. “Unless the opposite was true; could Dumbledore have been pleading with Snape to end his suffering instead?”
“I don’t know, Remus, my head is already spinning in circles. The only true answers are locked in the memories of Snape and Dumbledore. Everything else is murky. How can we even know who our true enemies are?”
Despite his inconclusive conversation with Lupin, Harry knew where he was going to go for answers. He just had to keep a tight rein on the conversation and on his own emotions, he reminded himself.
“Tell me what happened that night,” Harry demanded, taking hold of the conversation from the onset.
“There are ten thousand nights in my miserable existence, Potter. You will have to be more specific.” Snape’s mocking tone was enough to set Harry on edge.
“It’s always a sparring match with you, isn’t it?” Harry retorted then reminded himself to stay calm. “The night that Dumbledore died.”
“What, no accusatory pronouncements of villainy?” taunted Snape.
“Not unless you show they’re warranted. I advise you to take advantage of my agreeable mood.”
“It was a promise I made to Dumbledore not thinking the situation would ever come to pass. A moment of generosity on my part that back-fired. Like everything else in my life, it seems.”
“He does make us feel like pawns in his master game “ even after his death, doesn’t he?” Harry commiserated.
“Unfortunately, he was the only one who knew all the schemes he’d put in motion and the archaic rules that governed each.”
“Perhaps he was determined that we work together to reach the goal.” Harry held his breath.
“And that worked so well for you at the Triwizard Cup,” Snape sneered. “Have you shared that with Cedric Diggory’s parents? I’m sure your altruism would be a great comfort for their loss.”
Refusing to rise to Snape’s insults, Harry remained impassive. “That twist came courtesy of Barty Crouch, Junior, a confirmed Death Eater. Surely you remember him from your club meetings?”
“Your methods are getting tedious, Potter. Do you or do you not want to hear what happened that night?”
“Your version, yes.”
The distrust was still apparent on his face, but Snape answered nonetheless, “A vow extracted in case he were ever captured by the Dark Lord. Meant to keep Dumbledore from revealing secrets that could harm us all. He didn’t think he’d have the stamina to endure torture for very long. Death would end the pain as well as prevent the irreparable damage of any confession.”
“How did you know that moment had come? His pleading to you could have meant anything!”
“Not accompanied by the images he thrust into my mind with his last ounce of strength,” Snape countered matter-of-factly.
“What makes you so sure that it wasn’t your probing that wretched those thoughts from an old man’s weakened mind just to ease your guilt?”
“Because I didn’t want to do it. Even if it meant my death instead, I felt that he was more valuable to our cause. I still do. It seems that I was outsmarted.”
“So where does that leave us?” Harry ventured.
“So now we’re partners? How comforting. I didn’t think you’d be such a push-over for the truth.”
Harry shrugged. “Hating you saps too much energy. I wish to redirect my efforts.”
“A very pragmatic approach. Lupin would be most displeased.”
“Dumbledore made sure that I couldn’t confide in Lupin. It’s been a very difficult promise to keep. My previous offer still stands: let’s destroy the Potions book together. I can’t let you do it alone.”
“And you need to know the method of destroying the others?” Snape laughed sharply at Harry’s involuntary look of dismay. “So you found others? Excellent! Have you found them all?”
“You know I can’t possibly tell you that!” Harry snorted while trying to recapture his last shred of dignity. “It’s better that you not know in case you’re captured.” Or in case you decide to sing for any other reason, he thought to himself.
Snape threw him another curve ball with the next statement. “I will have to hold the book in my hands to properly subvert its dark magic. Are you willing to allow for that?”
“I’ll take certain precautions,” Harry intoned with feigned confidence.
“You really think your magical abilities are a match for mine?”
“You’ll also have to contend with the abilities of the two accomplices which Dumbledore permitted me: Ron and Hermione… And you have to agree to do this without a wand,” Harry dared.
“But you, you three, will be allowed to maintain yours?”
“Naturally.”
“I agree to your terms. You’ve one week to establish the details,” Snape returned with barely contained disgust before signing off.
Harry was unsure what to make of the ease with which Snape had agreed to his proposal. He had expected a long and contemptuous negotiation. Either Snape was extremely clever or he desired the book’s destruction at all costs. Harry fervently hoped it was the latter; otherwise, the battle was already lost!
Though mercifully brief, the following week’s encounter left him feeling equally ambivalent. Harry’s suggestion of an out of the way locale for the book’s destruction and his outline of precautions to avoid discovery were met with nothing but a curt nod. Then claiming that it was his prerogative to select the exact time and date, Snape ended the transmission.
He did not share his misgivings with Ron and Hermione. Convincing them of the necessity of dealing with Snape had proven a difficult enough task as it was. Hermione made one last valiant effort to dig up more information in the headmistress’ library, even though she’d already reported it as futile months earlier. Ron and Harry doggedly finished the last of the Muggle books that purported to deal with Horcruxes and also came up empty-handed.
Harry was determined not to let Snape’s abrasiveness mar his spirits as he donned outdoor clothing for the day. Looking up from lacing his hiking boots, he came face to face with the framed roster of Dumbledore’s Army that hung proudly over his bed. It had been an impromptu gift from Lupin in recompense for the enchanted galleon coin. The original had been in Filch’s files when Lupin was searching out additional Patronus data. It seemed an ideal opportunity to make a souvenir copy so that Tonks could send it off to be matted and framed. They’d shared a hearty laugh that the clerk had been spared a visit to the Irreversible Spell Damage Ward as the duplicate was not hexed to brand the word ‘sneak’ across his face.
As a matter of fact, Hermione’s ingenuity in obtaining loyalty from their original group had provided Harry with an idea for their upcoming face-to-face encounter with Snape. Heartened by the possibilities, Hermione finally agreed that it was a necessary risk if they were ever to learn how to destroy the Horcruxes. Ron reassured them with his arsenal of charms to verify that an adversary was unarmed as well as those to locate hidden weaponry. Clearly Flitwick’s lessons in battle strategy extended well beyond the chessboard.
Latching his tower window, Harry glanced one last time towards the sparkling shores of the lake in the distance. The spring air still had a decided nip to it, but as long as the skies were clear, the conditions would be ideal for the midday hike Lupin had planned. If the weather cooperated, Lupin hinted that he might leave a note on his blackboard redirecting his afternoon class to the great flat rock.
Knowing that he had about an hour to spare, Harry intended to make the most of it by browsing through the antique spell book Lupin kept in his office. Clearly an heirloom, its yellowed pages and archaic wording marked it as a rarity from before the Statute of Secrecy that sundered wizardkind from the Muggle world. Lupin had taught him how to charm it down from the highest shelf and reverently demonstrated how to rewrap it in the charmed acid-free cloth that helped to preserve it. As long as Harry promised not to remove it from the office, Lupin agreed to allow him to study it at leisure, even to magically copy some of its pages for personal use. Harry knew he was being accorded a rare privilege. It was a long shot, but he could not afford to ignore any possible sources of Horcrux lore.
As usual the office door was unlocked so Harry slipped inside, expecting to find himself alone. The lambent glow of the fire from the inner office was missing today, lending the rooms an unused and decidedly cold ambiance. He was caught short when he discovered Tonks already seated behind Lupin’s desk as if she’d been specifically waiting for him to arrive. Her soft words sent a shock through him.
“Remus collapsed yesterday evening; he’s been in and out of consciousness most of the night. He told me you’d made plans for today.”
Harry blurted the first thing that came to him as he struggled to digest her words. “Can we visit him in the Hospital Wing?”
Tonks shook her head as a tear trailed from the corner of her eye. “He’s not in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey felt his condition was serious enough that he should be admitted to St. Mungo’s.”
“Then why aren’t you there now?” Harry cried.
“I was with him most of the night, Harry. There’s really not much they can do other than observe him for the moment. I had classes to teach.”
How could she sit there so impassively? Harry’s brain screamed. “Right, I’ll go sit with him then! I’ll just swing ‘round to the headmistress’ office…”
“Harry, wait!” Tonks pleaded as she caught his arm. “Even if Minerva gave you permission to leave the school unescorted, it wouldn’t do you any good--”
“WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT?” Harry yelled in desperation then regretted it immediately when he saw Tonks’ brave façade crumble, the smoky plum leeching from her hair like watercolor on a wet surface. “I’m sorry, Tonks, I didn’t mean to…” he offered in apology as he allowed her to sob on his shoulder.
“Right now, they’re only allowing immediate family members,” Tonks managed to ease out between her tears. “Oh, Harry, I can’t bear the thought of losing him now…not after all this…”
Harry had never felt so helpless as they clung to one another. Gently, he stroked the limp brown locks that recalled her dark days of despair from the previous year. The only words of comfort that came to mind seemed woefully inadequate. “Surely, it’s not as bad as all that,” he whispered.
“The Healers are hinting that he may have been slowly poisoned by the reconfigured potion that he’s been taking,” she admitted directly into his sleeve.
“They’ll get it all sorted out in the end,” Harry murmured, no longer able to hold back his own tears. “They’re always very conservative with what they promise--”
A soft knock at the door caused Tonks to start involuntarily. She raised her head and called, “Who’s there?”
“Just me,” came the unmistakable accents of the headmistress. “I’m alone.”
“Please come in, Minerva,” Tonks urged, pulling away slightly.
McGonagall registered no surprise at the scene before her as she quietly closed the office door. “I’m glad to see you’re here, Harry,” she affirmed. “I’m canceling the rest of your classes for today, Tonks. I’ll make every effort to cover Remus’ lessons as best I can.”
“Please, Minerva, it’s not necessary… I can manage,” Tonks assured her in a tiny voice.
“Rubbish, dear.” McGonagall smiled gently. “No one would expect you to do so under the circumstances. I’ll just inform the students that you and Remus had a family emergency. Harry, please stay with her today; she could use your support.”
Harry nodded that he understood, not knowing what words would be appropriate at a time like this.
As McGonagall turned to leave, she added, “I’ve sent Horace to assist you with the immediate problem. Here he comes now.” She held the door open to admit the professor and then closed it behind his portly form.
“What’s all this boo-hooing about?” Slughorn boomed good-naturedly. “Commiserating accomplishes nothing when we could be making headway towards a solution. I’m certain we can prepare an antidote in my laboratory. Come.” With a great swoosh of his arm, he hustled them both into the corridor and down the cold steps to the dungeon.
The chamber to which Slughorn admitted them was not lined with the gruesome specimen jars that Snape once favored for his inner sanctum. Instead it was more akin to the chemistry classroom from the Muggle comprehensive school Harry had once attended with Dudley.
While Slughorn spread out the implements upon the black marble counter, Harry was assigned to make a record of their procedures. He began by jotting the elements of the current potion formula as Tonks detailed them for Slughorn’s benefit. On another sheet, he prepared to list the ingredients of the antidote they were to create. As Tonks disappeared briefly to obtain extra potion samples from her residence, Harry was not the least bit surprised that she used the fireplace in the adjoining office.
By the time the headmistress checked on them two hours later, they were decanting the last of the antidote into various glass vials. With a swirl of his wand, Harry made extra copies of the recipes so the Healers at St. Mungo’s would have one, too. Before leaving for his afternoon classes, Slughorn insisted on summoning Poppy Pomfrey to witness the final result. Everyone watched in awe as the Potions Master combined the antidote with one of the vials containing the reconfigured Wolfsbane. The contents turned a lurid red shade, deepening slowly until it was almost black, then dissolving into a clear liquid once the two substances had neutralized one another.
“The Healers will want to do a final test using a sample of Professor Lupin’s blood,” Madame Pomfrey advised them. “But be sure to show them this demonstration first so they know you mean business. They can be a bit officious at times.”
Sounds a lot like the description Lupin always gave of Poppy herself, Harry noted inwardly.
By clever manipulation, the headmistress had the Floo Network deposit them directly to the third floor waiting room. Despite being spared the constant chaos of the lobby receiving area, St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was just as Harry remembered, the ward for Potion and Plant Poisoning a cookie-cutter version of all the others within the hospital. The same stilted looking furniture that could never provide any comfort to anxious family members, the same outdated magazines that would provide no distraction from their immediate worries.
No sooner had Harry gained his footing than Tonks thrust the partitioned carry bag that housed the vials of potion and antidote into his arms. The stately, dark-haired woman who immediately embraced her must be her mother, Harry surmised.
Wiping the tears unabashedly from her cheeks, Tonks made the introductions in quick order.
“Very pleased to meet you, Harry.” Andromeda Tonks smiled warmly; her voice had a rich, velvety texture. “Both Dora and Remus speak very highly of you. I hoped to meet you under more joyful circumstances.”
“Pleasure,” Harry replied as his manners returned to him out of the blue. “Ginny Weasley had many nice things to say after she met you at Christmas.”
“Such a lovely girl. I was so glad that Dora finally brought some of her school friends over for a visit.”
“Mum, you do realize that I’m now a member of the faculty, don’t you?” Tonks observed, rolling her eyes dramatically.
“Of course, dear,” Andromeda soothed as a Healer in customary lime green garb arrived at her elbow.
“You’ve brought the formula to be analyzed?” the Healer demanded, focusing on Tonks.
“An antidote as well,” she replied with authority. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see that this is administered properly once you’ve finished with your verification tests. It comes directly from one of the foremost Potion Masters in Britain.”
“Very well,” the Healer agreed in a practiced monotone. “Come with me. The rest of your family will have to wait outside, though.”
With a forlorn look in her mother’s direction, Tonks allowed the Healer to usher her beyond the swinging doors.
Seeing the stricken expression in Harry’s eyes, Andromeda turned to him instinctively. “Don’t let that little martinet intimidate you, Harry. One of the assistants gave me an update moments before the two of you arrived. Remus’ condition is still unchanged.”
“His tone sounded almost accusatory,” Harry observed, feeling as if he had totally lost control of the situation.
“Yes, it did,” Andromeda agreed. “They teach them that particular inflection in Healer training. Don’t let him get to you; I assure you Dora won’t. The headmistress already smoothed things over by having the school nurse attest that all parties recognized this was an experimental treatment undertaken on a voluntary basis. Come, let’s sit down… I take it Dora hasn’t filled you in on many of the details, has she?”
Harry shook his head glumly. “We got swept up in preparing the antidote,” he explained. “Suddenly it seems a bit overwhelming is all.”
“That’s understandable. I’ve been here since last night, minus the few hours I went home this morning to catch a few hours’ sleep. I doubt that Dora has slept at all, she’s been so distraught. And you look like you’re dressed for an outdoor hike, if I’m not mistaken. Remus was most insistent that Dora get word to you personally.”
“So he was lucid last night?”
“Off and on,” Andromeda admitted. “Don’t let the Healers’ whole doom and gloom demeanor fool you. Remus’ underlying health is excellent, it’s just the potion that he’s been ingesting that’s playing tricks on him. This won’t be the end of the road for him, just you wait and see.”
Harry knew her words were intended to comfort and uplift him, but right now it didn’t seem like anything short of Lupin standing in the doorway was going to help. He turned towards the far wall as he felt the sting of involuntary tears.
“Would it help if we spoke of something else?” Andromeda returned softly.
Harry nodded past the lump in his throat, hazarding a quick glance in her direction.
“Come sit next to me then,” she offered. “It will make both of us feel better to know that we’re not alone.”
Swallowing his initial embarrassment, Harry joined her on the sofa so they could carry on a soft conversation. He stared at the web of cracks that had transformed the far wall into the lair of a monstrous spider as her honeyed voice spun soothing tales of Tonks’ days as an unbridled toddler, all Technicolor hair that deliberately clashed with her clothing -- even when the items she selected clashed with each other as well. She told him of her own days as a young woman when she had first met Ted Tonks, a caring man who hid behind the mask of a rugged adventurer. She’d been working as a shop girl in Paris then and he complained that collecting her at such a posh establishment would tarnish his manly image.
Harry found himself smiling at Andromeda’s words in spite of the circumstances. With the true touch of a satirist, she entertained him with wry comments interspersed throughout her narrative of day-to-day life. No wonder they’d found Lupin so amusing, Harry thought inwardly, waiting for the dull ache that didn’t seem as willing to surface as before.
In loose chronology, Andromeda spoke of her initial meeting with the celebrated owner of the boutique, a man whose stature in the fashion world eclipsed his unassuming appearance. She instantly recognized him as a Squib while he, in turn, noticed that her artistry with gift boxes involved the subtle use of magic. But instead of reprimanding her, he offered her an immediate rise in salary due to her ingenuity.
She spoke of her favorite cousin, Sirius, and how overjoyed he’d been to be chosen as Harry’s godfather. The two of them had instinctively accepted each other as kindred spirits in a family that was obsessed with pure-blood status. Sirius had secretly congratulated her on her engagement to Ted Tonks and then confided that it would irk the family that much more that she was marrying a man of means, despite his egregious sin of being a Muggle-born wizard. She recalled Sirius droning at length about his best school chums, James and Remus, although she never actually met them. Sadly, it was the Potter household that had embraced them, not the Blacks. She recalled catching Sirius in a rare introspective mood, confessing to her that his and James’ accomplishments would all count for naught in comparison to the talents of their pal, Remus -- were it not for his ‘furry little problem.’ Never realizing that Dora would come to speak of the same man in such eloquent terms herself. Only later did she make the connection when her daughter presented them with her new husband, an unpretentious man whose deep intellect and compassion were only outshone by the undying devotion he’d pledged to Dora.
Andromeda’s voice caught, and in the next breath Harry found himself admitting, “I, too, would be lost without him.”
“I thought you two were supposed to be cheering each other up,” a jovial voice came from behind.
Harry hastily wiped his eyes before clasping the hand that Ted Tonks offered to him.
“You must be Harry. Has there been any word on Remus?”
“Not yet,” Andromeda admitted as Ted took a seat to the other side of her. “Although Dora must have presented them with the antidote hours ago.”
Harry’s heart skipped as the wall clock showed that most of the afternoon had slipped by them entirely. “Shouldn’t we have heard something by now?” he echoed.
“Only if it was bad news,” Ted opined as he laid a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Let me scare us up some information.”
As he neared the swinging doors, they were cracked open slightly to allow a spent-looking Tonks to ease herself through.
“Dad, I’m so glad you made it back! A bit of a nap really helped, didn’t it?”
“All pleasantries aside, how is he?” Ted demanded as he released his daughter from a tight hug.
“Much better,” Tonks allowed. “The antidote really helped. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank Horace enough.”
“Will they let me see him?” Harry pleaded.
“Not yet, he’s sound asleep right now,” Tonks advised. “The Healers will be out once they complete their assessment “ which is guaranteed to interrupt his rest.” With a heavy sigh, she laid her head back on the overstuffed chair that had suddenly appeared next to the sofa.
Ted winked in Harry’s direction as he casually returned his wand to his pocket. “Don’t they have any refreshments for the survivors in this place?” he joked.
“There’s a tearoom on the fifth floor,” Harry offered with a weak chuckle.
“Then it’s about time we get some tea and sandwiches before they have to find beds for the lot of us! Come, Harry, I’ll need extra hands to carry things,” Ted announced. “I’m sure it’s been hours since you had anything,” he added as he held the corridor door open.
“Not since breakfast,” Harry conceded, thinking that it had probably been much longer in Tonks’ case.
Tonks was curled up in the comfy chair when they returned from the Visitor’s Tearoom to find that Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived. Harry had been wondering when someone from the Order would appear to check on the chain of command, but hastily shoved those fears aside. Although his dark thoughts were now confirmed, Harry took heart in Tonks’ pronouncement that the antidote had done its job.
Turning his thoughts to more immediate concerns, he assisted the others to levitate a low table from the far side of the room and to arrange the refreshments. Tonks revived herself with a short nap and a good quantity of tea and cucumber sandwiches. By the time McGonagall joined the grim tableau in the waiting room, they were clearing away the last of the empty containers.
“Has there been any news?” the headmistress inquired anxiously.
“Nothing beyond the fact that the antidote was successful.” Andromeda sighed in frustration.
“And that was quite some time ago,” Ted growled. “It’s as if those Healers operate with a different sense of time than the rest of us!”
“At least Remus was sleeping soundly when I left him,” Tonks volunteered.
All heads jerked up at the sound of the swinging doors but it was not whom they expected. Much to their surprise, it was Augustus Pye from the Creature Induced Injuries Ward. Harry remembered him attending to Arthur Weasley’s snake bite a few years ago.
Tonks jumped up from her chair in immediate recognition. “Gus, I didn’t expect to see you here today,” she offered as they briefly clasped hands.
“I was called for a consultation on a werewolf issue and was dismayed to find Remus,” Augustus replied. “I haven’t seen him around much since the two of you started teaching.”
“It’s not so easy to get away anymore but that’s not to say that he won’t try.” Turning to the group at large, Tonks explained, “Remus does a fair bit of volunteer work with new bite victims so Gus is an old friend.”
“I have the dubious distinction of being the resident werewolf expert,” Augustus advised them. “Although Remus’ practical knowledge far outshines mine.”
“So if you’re the expert, what can you tell us about Remus’ case?” Ted spoke up, followed by Tonks’ hasty introduction of her parents.
“It’s unique, all right; but things involving Remus always seem to be, don’t they?” Augustus offered. “A werewolf poisoning is practically unheard of since their hardy constitution protects them from such things, along with a host of other diseases that can infect the general populace.”
It wouldn’t do to be adversely affected by a victim’s previous ailments, Harry thought grimly.
“But the antidote was successful!” Tonks asserted with just a hint of apprehension in her voice.
“Oh, yes, of that there can be no doubt. They just aren’t sure if there will be any complications,” Augustus explained.
“What sort of complications?” Andromeda pressed.
“No one is sure.” Augustus turned at the sound of the swinging doors opening once more. “Here comes the potions expert that’s been assigned to Remus’ case. Jeremy, these nice people are anxious to hear your conclusions.”
“Jeremy Hudson, Potions and Antidotes,” the tall blonde man introduced himself. “There is no doubt that Remus’ case is unprecedented. Antidotes, as you well know, can have side-effects of their own even when properly administered. It’s as if the body is announcing its displeasure about the manner in which it has been treated. We have reason to believe that Remus’ body is gearing up to react rather vehemently. Considering how long he’s endured the machinations of the experimental potion, it’s understandable.”
“What kind of a reaction can we expect?” Ted prodded.
“We’re not absolutely certain,” Jeremy admitted. “But the consensus is that it will trigger a full-blown transformation.”
“But the full moon is two weeks away!” Tonks protested.
“Remus’ internal clock has been scrambled for far too long, I’m afraid,” Augustus confirmed. “Some of the preliminary signs are already present. Don’t worry, Tonks, I will keep him under observation personally.”
“A secure room is being prepared as we speak,” Jeremy explained. “Moonrise begins a bit later tonight, but we’re not certain that will be the trigger.”
Seeing Tonks’ anguished expression, Augustus confided, “They just don’t want to take any chances. You understand that, don’t you?”
“But, Gus, Remus hates to be confined like that, especially all alone. It will just make him more desperate!” Tonks pleaded, searching his face for any sort of reaction.
“It’s not like we haven’t discussed the situation with him at length, Tonks.”
With a soft hand on Tonks’ shoulder, the headmistress made her presence felt. “I will stay with Remus tonight,” McGonagall announced. For the Healers’ benefit, she added, “I’m a registered Animagus. I’ll be in no danger from Remus, regardless of his condition.”
“Madam, I’m not sure we can allow--” began Jeremy deferentially, then stopped short when he caught the blazing look in her eyes.
“I don’t believe I was asking permission,” McGonagall responded so softly that it was almost a whisper. Then with a subtle flick of her wand, she assumed feline shape to demonstrate her point.
Augustus turned toward the other Healer and murmured, “The companionship of another animal will reassure Remus considerably. It’s a wordless communion of sorts that’s established.” The rest of their words were not audible, but when they had finished, Jeremy nodded.
“Healer Pye has assumed responsibility in this case,” Jeremy announced. “It will be allowed.”
“Minerva, you really don’t need to do this!” Tonks objected. “You have other duties.”
McGonagall resumed her human shape with practiced ease. “I have a deputy to call upon in these instances, dear,” she assured Tonks with a small smile. “It’s not like we don’t have a contingency plan.”
“But, Minerva, you’re already taking over his classes. You can’t spread yourself that thin!” Tonks was adamant.
“Other arrangements exist, dear. Please let me do this for him,” the headmistress implored, looking Tonks in the eye.
After a few moments, Tonks nodded her assent as her eyes filled with fresh tears of gratitude.
“But you must do this for me,” the headmistress beseeched. “You and Harry must return to Hogwarts tonight.” She politely waved off Andromeda’s and Ted’s protests. “The contingency plan depends upon it.”
“Begging your pardon, Headmistress,” Harry interjected as he worked his way to the front. “Might I please be allowed to see Remus before we go? I’ve been waiting patiently for a very long time.”
“Of course, Harry.” Redirecting herself to the Healers, McGonagall posed, “Can you honor his request?”
“If Tonks has no objections--” Augustus offered, taking control of the situation.
“None whatsoever.”
“”then please come with me. I assure you that there is nothing much to see, but it will put your mind at ease.”
As the swinging doors shut behind him, Harry caught a bit of Shacklebolt’s words.
“We will be posting a 24-hour guard, Minerva. There’s no need to take any unnecessary risks “ with either one of them. Remus’ isolation will also guarantee that he receives no surprise gifts, even though I already warned the front desk--”
* paraphrased from page 420, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, American paperback edition
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: Harry and Lupin laugh off their troubles while an avalanche lays in wait to engulf them all; Snape’s rare cooperative mood is unsettling.