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 69
Reinforcements
The sharp smell of ozone in the air was a clear indicator that the storm had not yet ended, but they were eager to stretch their legs now that the first onslaught of cold rain had tapered off. After being in the close confines of the stone hollow, walking among the precarious shelves of rock seemed like flying.
It was a slow process trying to search the numerous caverns that pockmarked the area in some sort of sequence, but they really had no other options. It had been impossible to pinpoint exactly where Lupin’s cry had originated and their subsequent calls had gone unanswered. The underlying sense of urgency was inescapable but so was the need to be thorough.
Dark clouds scuttled like phantoms on the horizon, vying for the privilege of orchestrating the nest deluge. The first few languid drops landed on Hermione’s arm, announcing the need to find shelter. She made a command decision to abandon this row of smallish caverns and move on to the largest opening that loomed almost at the end of the escarpment.
“We can always circle back after the rain stops,” she whispered fervently to Ron.
“It might be a while, Hermione. It looks like its brewing up to be a major storm.”
“All the more reason to find ourselves a good-sized bolt hole!” she urged as she hoisted herself mightily onto the wide lip.
The cavern before her was surprising large, the generous ledge blocking its true dimensions when viewed from below. She settled herself comfortably on one of the boulders that littered the entrance as Ron hurried in behind her to avoid getting caught in the downpour. With a sigh of relief, he leaned his back against the opposite wall and stretched his long legs out before him.
It was startling how quickly the powerful storm had moved in, swallowing the brightness of mid-day and replacing it with the murky tones of dusk. Over the hammering of raindrops, Hermione heard other sounds she could not place, unfamiliar sounds coming from the rear of the cavern.
“Ron! Did you hear that?” she whispered, her eyes wide with apprehension.
“Don’t let your imagination get away from you,” Ron replied softly. “This whole rock is riddled with cracks; it’s just as likely to be the wind as anything else.”
“Or spiders,” she teased in return.
“Not this close to the ocean,” he scoffed. “Could be bats….Really, Hermione, it’s probably a stranded bird if nothing else.”
Hermione lit the tip of her wand experimentally and thrust it into the gloomy shadows near the back of the cave. The roughness of the walls jumped into view as the darkness receded. She was starting to feel a bit foolish when she caught sight of a large luminous eye staring back at her from the depths of the cavern.
With a strangled cry, she leapt to her feet and motioned urgently to Ron.
“That’s strange,” he offered in a soothing tone as he inched his way deeper into the cave. “Seems to belong to a fairly large animal. Bright and intense like an owl’s eye.”
Hermione clung to Ron unabashedly as he added the light from his wand to hers. What had seemed like an ovoid boulder slowly revealed itself to be the carapace of a giant sea turtle, its glossy brownish shell gleaming as if lacquered. It stared at them steadily, not shying away when Ron laid a tentative hand on its back.
“Is that a metal tag around its front leg?” he suggested as he bent forward for a closer look. “It’s tangled up in something.”
“Let me see,” Hermione volunteered, no longer afraid. But as she gently swept the jellied mass of seaweed from the metal tag, she slowly revealed the contours of a pale wooden wand, spare in its design, entwined among an intricate network of chains.
“Is that one of those new digitized tracking tags?” Ron asked.
“I don’t think so,” Hermione breathed as she reverently eased the unfamiliar wand to the floor where it would be safely out of reach. “I think it’s Remus.”
“Something must be preventing him from returning to human form then,” Ron surmised, trying to see deeper into the shadows. “Do you know the spell that will revert him?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to throw his body into shock, either,” Hermione cautioned. “I wish I knew more about Animagi…Remus, what can you tell me? I need your help.”
“His right rear foot seems to be tender somehow.” Ron’s voice was slightly muffled as he crouched on the other side of the shell. “See how he pulls it away from my hand; but I can’t see any details in this gloom.”
“You’re right, Ron, he doesn’t seem to mind when I admire the delicate webbing on his front feet at all… Remus, please,” she implored, looking earnestly into the languid eye that seemed to follow her every move. “Please return to us. Harry sent us to find you and make sure you were safe.”
“We need reinforcements now!” Harry commanded, not allowing his eyes to fully focus on the red dots that seemed to pulse with menace. “I don’t want to signal anything in the air to alert them to our presence, if I can help it.”
Without hesitation, Shacklebolt grabbed the bound figure of Yaxley and then called out to Neville that they were returning personally to headquarters. “I’ll start Neville ferrying them across,” he assured the rest of them.
Neville made a point of placing the neatly folded Invisibility Cloak into Harry’s hands before signaling that he was ready. At the last second, Tonks thrust her bulging rucksack into Neville’s arms and begged him to take it directly to Hagrid.
“More supplies?” he asked tentatively.
She nodded. “Among other things.”
“Don’t let yourself be seen,” Shacklebolt reminded Harry unnecessarily. “If those red corpuscles start pouring forth, the three of you--”
“”will be back in Aberforth’s lap so fast, he’ll think he’s suckling us!” Harry promised.
“Hope you like goat’s milk!” Shacklebolt threw back as he and Neville Disapparated together.
Suddenly, it seemed too quiet in the music room. Harry needed something to occupy his thoughts while he waited for the others to join them. Anything to get his mind off the names he’d seem corralled within the confines of the north wing. Among the usual Death Eaters were others: unfamiliar surnames that were clearly Arabic, African, Muslim. Names that originated from all the trouble spots of the globe, a roll call of the vilest that Muggles had to offer joining forces with the greatest evil the wizarding world had ever produced. And like a fat spider, Voldemort sat motionless in the middle of the web, waiting for his most valued prey to wander past.
Lupin’s worst fears had been realized.
From the depths of a dream, he heard her soft voice. Hermione, that was her name. It was so clear now that the boy had said it. Hermione. He watched the wonderment spread across her face as her gentle fingers explored his front flippers, caressing the delicate cartilage.
The confident touch of their hands on his carapace was soothing, reminding him that they were his steadfast friends. Even Ron’s hesitant exploration of his injured foot didn’t cause him any additional pain; but he resisted, nevertheless, to draw their attention to his wound.
Somehow, he had to find a way to change back into human form. He’d managed it once before, but he hadn’t the endurance to maintain it. At least if he passed out from the effort, they would be there to see to it that help arrived. He quickened his breathing to pump more oxygen into his system, ignoring the fresh wave of agony searing through his entire right side. It was surprisingly easy to tap into the primal strength he refused to acknowledge, the power that came from the wolf he hated as he hated nothing else, a force that had mangled his life just as much as it had shaped it. With a bestial roar that scared him with its intensity, he felt the transformation take hold. He hurried it along, pushed it to its very limit, anything to complete it before he fully came to terms with how he had managed it.
“Tonks, what happened to the family photos that were on the piano?” Harry demanded. “Ginny, did you see them? There must have been at least twenty…”
He could not have imagined it. He’d even held them in his hands when he’s cleared a spot to review the map; but suddenly, they were gone. As he looked at the unreadable faces turned in his direction, the answer was all to clear.
“You packed them in the rucksack, didn’t you? We’re about to come face to face with…with unspeakable evil…and you two are worried about the family photographs?”
“Harry, don’t let the stress get to you,” Tonks replied in a placating tone. “The opportunity presented itself and I sprang into action.”
“Those photos belong to you, Harry,” defended Ginny.
“Just about everything in this house belongs to me now,” he returned. “A lot of good any of it did my parents, though…”
“Listen, Harry.” Tonks looked him in the eye. “At the end of the day, we may not get a chance to return to this wing. The rest of the house many be reduced to confetti like the nursery. But if you think any of those things are important to your life, you can replace them. All except the photographs.”
“They were just waiting here for you, untouched after all these years,” Ginny amended quietly. “As if Fate was giving you another chance.”
Intermittent noises from the far section of the room alerted Harry that the Order’s reinforcements were arriving en masse. Shacklebolt was among the first wave and strode over purposefully.
“We were able to establish a Portkey,” he announced proudly. “With Neville’s assistance, that is. Aberforth walked him through casting the charm and voilà.” He indicated the new troops.
“Is there any indication of what may have happened with Pettigrew?” Harry whispered anxiously.
“Aberforth reported an instability with the Charm, wavering he called it. Sounds more like a description, not a technical term for the phenomenon. Obviously, something untoward has happened to Pettigrew, but there’s no way to know the details,” Shacklebolt admitted. “We’ll just have to wait for Remus to report back.”
Harry found the simple pronouncement of Remus’ inevitable return comforting. With renewed confidence, he redirected his attention to the small scrap of parchment that contained their destiny. Noting that Alastor Moody had arrived, Harry motioned him over so he and Shacklebolt could help to brainstorm some strategies for the upcoming confrontation.
It was time to spring the trap.
Without warning, Lupin’s body materialized on the cave floor. Torn, wet and shivering uncontrollably, his bloodshot eyes looking anxiously from one of them to the other. The tattered state of his clothing was a testament to his ordeal. Hermione felt him wince involuntarily as she threw her arms gently around his shoulders.
“Please don’t think I’m not happy to see you, too, but my entire right side is in agony,” Lupin wheezed, his voice like a whisper of dry sand. The effort of those few words left him breathing heavily.
Wordlessly, Ron applied a drying charm to Lupin’s hair and clothing while Hermione emptied the bulky items from her rucksack and folded it gently behind Lupin’s head as a pillow. Noticing the greedy look he directed at the water bottles, they propped him up so he could drink his fill.
“Thanks,” Lupin whispered succinctly as he eased himself back on the make-shift pillow.
Ron motioned for Hermione to bring her wand tip close so they could better assess the condition of Lupin’s foot. At the last second, Hermione managed to swallow the gasp that rose involuntarily in her throat.
“What happened to your foot, Remus?” Ron posed as casually as possible.
“Wormtail…silver hand…Voldemort’s gift to… invaluable servant,” Lupin managed disjointedly. With visible effort, he added, “From the torment it’s caused me, Peter meant it as a final souvenir.”
“Please don’t overexert yourself,” Hermione cautioned. “We’ll try to make our questions simple…Things that can be answered yes or no.” She resisted the urge to ask what had happened to Pettigrew; there would be time enough for that later.
“Hermione, I think silver is deadly poisonous to werewolves,” pressed Ron in an undertone. “Didn’t he say Wormtail’s hand was silver?”
“I always thought that was an old wives tale,” she returned. “Remus’ cuff is silver; that doesn’t seem to cause him any discomfort.”
“Silver…and Dark Magic… pernicious combination,” Lupin rasped. His face screwed up with pain then he fell back panting heavily.
Of their own volition, Lupin’s eyelids began to droop and the contours of his body wavered intermittently. Shifting into turtle mode must lessen the pain of the injury, Hermione concluded.
“Remus, you have to stay with us,” she implored, shaking his shoulder gently and setting off a fresh cry of pain. “Embrace the pain if you have to, but stay with us!”
“Neither one of us has any veterinary training, mate,” Ron advised with a crooked grin for Lupin’s benefit. Then turning to Hermione, he breathed solemnly, “I’m going for Pomfrey. If you send a Patronus message ahead, I’ll just Apparate to the school gates.”
Hermione grabbed his arm to detain him. “Shouldn’t you follow the three-step rule?”
“Only if you want it to take longer,” he returned with flawless logic.
“Go direct,” Lupin wheezed. “Enemies all know….Hogwarts.”
“There’s been no movement from the dark forces inside the other wing?” Moody ascertained.
“None. That’s what I don’t understand,” Harry offered. “We collapsed a sizable chuck of the central portion of the house. How can they have failed to react to that? The sound alone--”
“Sorry, I should have explained sooner,” Shacklebolt interjected. “I cast an Imperturbable Charm around that area when Neville and I returned with our prisoner. Bellatrix’s screeches of delight were so clearly audible from the sitting room, I didn’t dare run the risk of them being overheard by anyone else in the vicinity.”
“Excellent bit of foresight,” Moody growled.
“Not entirely,” Shacklebolt amended. “Had I not been staring right at the upper story when it started to slide, I would never have gotten out of the way in time.”
“Now that the reinforcements have arrived, any idea on how to make the enemy aware of our presence?” Moody inquired.
“Actually, I had a glimmer of an idea,” Harry volunteered. “Since clearly Bellatrix was Voldemort’s key player, let’s have her present him with Neville on a stick while the rest of our troops enter from the other side.” He pulled out the rudimentary map to point out the patio on the far side.
“Sounds like a viable diversionary tactic.” Shacklebolt nodded his approval. “Neville, were you able to actually distinguish the patio from the Dumbledore residence?”
Neville confirmed that it had been drawn accurately enough.
“Great,” Moody concurred. “Let’s see about setting up another Portkey on the far side of that wall then.”
Neville returned almost immediately with a broken brick he found discarded in a flowerbed. As Moody walked him through the still unfamiliar incantation, Shacklebolt addressed Harry directly.
“Where will you be during all this, Harry?”
“I’ll slide in right behind Bella and Neville, courtesy of my Invisibility Cloak,” Harry explained, patting the familiar gossamer presence once again folded beneath his shirt.
Hermione was surprised at how quickly she received a reply from Madame Pomfrey. The air had only just settled after Ron’s departure when a silvery duck flew in the opening of the cavern and perched itself on one of the large boulders. If the situation had not seemed so dire, she might have laughed at the antics of the Patronus as it waddled about in a small circle before settling itself down with a dismissive waggle of its short tail feathers.
When it opened its beak, Poppy Pomfrey’s efficient voice issued forth: “Please keep Professor Lupin as comfortable and warm as possible, but don’t let him revert to his Animagus form. The transformation will drain his body of energy to fight off the toxicity of the infection. It’s likely Pettigrew’s hand was created with Dark Magic using a malevolent strain of silver; do not attempt to touch the wound or silver fragments. Will be there shortly after I finish making a few extra preparations. If Remus is having trouble breathing, use only two drops of his elixir diluted in water “ even though he will argue that werewolves need more. And since I know he won’t accept my instructions at face value, assure him that while a higher dosage will ease his pain considerably, it will also unblock the pathways that allow the corrosion to spread through his body.” The wispy duck ended its message with a loud quack and then gradually faded.
Hermione contained some bluebell flames within a ring of stones to give the cavern some extra warmth and light. She tucked the ends of the large tartan blanket she had Transfigured more securely around Lupin’s form to try to ease his trembling. She suspected it had more to do with the pain than his actual body temperature, but she was not one to argue with the terse instructions she had just received.
“She has no concept… of healthy skepticism,” Lupin stammered in his own defense.
In a reassuring manner, Hermione smiled down at him and remarked, “She does seem to have the gift for making everyone feel like an errant child, doesn’t she?”
“Pray you don’t encounter her on one of her bad days,” Lupin whispered, then motioned for more water.
Wordlessly, she located Lupin’s battered jacket discarded nearby. In one of the inside pockets, she found a small, stoppered bottled that had miraculously survived unscathed. As she carefully measured two precious drops into the last few inches of bottled water, Hermione continued commiserating with Lupin.
“She probably thinks you’re too inquisitive for your own good.” Hermione waited until the water turned a brilliant turquoise and its temperature dropped appreciatively. “Here, you’d better drink this quickly, Remus,” she urged. “I’m not certain how well the plastic will hold up.”
Lupin held out the empty bottle and sank back gratefully on the rucksack pillow. Hermione watched with concern as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
“I confess the longest time I ever spent in the Hospital Wing was when I was Petrified,” she volunteered, trying to keep him alert and talking.
“Never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I envy you that,” Lupin remarked with a slight twitch to his lips that might have been the beginnings of a smile. “Less likely to get on each other’s nerves that way.”
“Was she in charge of the Hospital Wing during the Marauders’ time?”
“Oh, yes. Sirius secretly suspected she’d been brought here with the school founders,” Lupin admitted, his breathing already less strained than before.
“Must be some very potent youthening potion she takes,” Hermione joked lamely.
“You can see why she’d like to keep it a secret then.”
“I’m beginning to see why Gilderoy Lockhart exasperated her so.”
“You mean besides the blatant incompetence? You should have seen the class notes he left me!… Pray you don’t ever repeat that to anyone, please.”
Hermione squeezed Lupin’s hand reassuringly, then added wryly, “If Lockhart had discovered her secret potion, he would have instantly packaged it under his own brand name--”
“Or used it to turn himself into a mewling infant!” Lupin scoffed.
“You didn’t say there would be other beneficial side effects,” Hermione rejoined.
Lupin chuckled weakly, then winced at the pain that such a small movement elicited.
The house was unnaturally still as Harry, Neville and ‘Bellatonks’ worked their way through the remains of the sitting room and into the large kitchen. Despite the lackluster metal surfaces, the long butcher-block worktable was just as it had appeared in the Pensieve. A multitude of tarnished pans hung from a rack above; a long row of kitchen knives and other implements were sheathed in neat rows along the side.
Harry’s heart was hammering wildly as he tried to ignore Bellatonks’ fevered mutterings as she properly worked herself into character. For everyone’s benefit, Tonks had demonstrated her prowess with an impersonation of her own mother, Andromeda, who was Bellatrix’s sister. Mixing in a bit of fervor from one of her mother’s more impassioned tirades, Tonks had gotten a reasonable imitation of Bellatrix’s most recent state of mind. Without Wormtail for comparison, it was unlikely anyone would notice the slight difference in height.
The slipcovers protecting all but the table in the formal dining room attested that this room had been little used by Harry’s parents. By the two place settings and the highchair at one end of the long table, Voldemort’s attack must have come close to suppertime. Cobwebs dangled like baroque lace from the arms of the simple candelabra whose candles had long since expired, leaving small pools of brackish wax on the underlying mat.
Just as in the other wing, the door from the dining room opened onto a short flagstone breezeway with doors at either end. Before them stood the large mahogany doors leading to the north wing. There was a distinct air of disuse about the area, made even more evident by the large rusted padlock attached to the ornate doorknob.
With one last look at the others around him, Harry tossed the Invisibility Cloak over his head while Bellatonks lashed Neville loosely around the middle, pinning his arms to his side. For a brief moment, Harry’s thoughts turned to Ginny who was waiting with the other reinforcements outside the north patio and wondered whether she was thinking of him as well.
Bellatonks directed a wordless Alohamora spell towards the padlock and it cleaved in two with a loud crack of corroded metal. With a deep breath and a slightly quavering hand, she turned the large doorknob and threw the door open with startling force.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw her wand start to prod Neville forward and then his head exploded like an arsenal of firecrackers detonating inside his skull, his scar burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Clasping both hands across his forehead in a vain attempt to staunch the pain, Harry barely managed to keep from screaming aloud. He reached out blindly to alert his companions, but his hand clasped only empty air. He was unable to stop his knees from buckling as he slipped gratefully into the welcoming blackness.
Civilization ended at the cave mouth, or so the dark torrent of rain would have it appear as Madam Pomfrey’s form coalesced in the air. Before she had set her lantern and medical case down, she was kneeing anxiously at Lupin’s side.
Ron engulfed Hermione in another blanket before wrapping his own arms protectively around her to keep it closed. “There’s sandwiches and Butterbeer in the rucksack I brought back, if you feel up to it,” he offered as he kissed her temple gently. “You’ll be surprised what it does for your energy level.”
Hermione started to shake her head, but when Ron tantalizingly held out an apple, she greedily took it from his hand. She returned her attention to Lupin who had just finished downing a medicinal draught Madam Pomfrey handed him.
“How soon will I feel some relief?” he asked tentatively.
“I can’t give you anything for the pain, Remus -- not just yet anyway,” Pomfrey explained. “I’m more concerned about stopping the spread of the dark contagion first…If anyone is squeamish, I suggest you turn away now,” she added looking deliberately at Ron and Hermione.
“Perhaps a bit of concern for my dignity,” cautioned Lupin.
“With as much bare leg as you flashed in your legionnaire trappings, I hardly think that’s going to be an issue,” Pomfrey shot back as her wand quickly opened Lupin’s trouser leg to mid-thigh.
Lupin’s foot was just as bloated as before, the skin mottled a virulent looking purple and green. With practiced wand motions, Pomfrey deftly removed the tattered sock yarn from the festering wound. Lupin’s body twitched involuntarily as he did his best to not scream at the agony such a simple action brought forth.
Seeing that both Ron and Hermione were watching her intently, Pomfrey pointed out the violent purple streaks entwined like a malignant vine around Lupin’s bare leg. The tips pulsed menacingly about his kneecap as they systematically stretched themselves into Lupin’s thigh muscle.
“You can see how it’s threatening to take over his entire leg, then working its way up his torso, until it reaches the major organs of the heart and lungs,” she illustrated. Lupin tried to lift his head to look down his own body, but it proved to be too much effort. “The draught I gave him will slow it down, but I can’t reverse the contamination until I remove the bits of silver imbedded in his flesh. I will try to numb the pain at the site, but it’s still going to hurt, Remus. I’m sorry; I promise to be as gentle as possible.”
With a whispered word to Ron to hold down Lupin’s leg and Hermione to squeeze his hand for comfort, Pomfrey cast a quick Imperturbable Charm in the general direction of the cave mouth. With a grim smile, she assured her patient that he was welcome to yell just as loudly as he pleased.
Despite Pomfrey’s dire predictions, it was over almost before it started. No sooner had Lupin relaxed his face than he became entranced with the curious silvery lumps swimming in the small bottle before him. A rusty sediment was slowly swirling away from each pellet; belatedly, Hermione realized it must be Lupin’s blood.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Lupin offered as he distinguished that each severed fingertip had a short barbed point extruding from it. No wonder he’d been unable to dislodge the hand.
“I have!” Ron spoke up unexpectedly. “Professor Flitwick has a book that shows a similar device used by ancient Chinese warlocks. Granted there was only an artist’s sketch, but I’m almost certain it said the claws could be filled with poison.”
Hermione barely had time to gasp before Pomfrey had the bottle wrapped in a cloth for cushioning and was begging Ron to take it directly to Hogwarts for analysis. “Make sure both Professor Slughorn and Flitwick examine this closely. Someone will have been stationed at the gates to await our return.”
As soon as Ron Disapparated, Hermione begged, “What about Professor Lupin? Aren’t you going to Levitate him back to the castle?”
“Not just yet,” Pomfrey replied with a reassuring hand on Lupin’s shoulder. “Not until those threads recede below his knee and preferably closer to his ankle. I don’t dare take any other steps without knowing more about what we’re facing. An accursed wound acerbated by poison complicates matters considerably.”
It could not have been more than a minute at most before Harry swam back through the murky darkness to a surface filled with light. He flinched visibly as brightness exploded onto his retinas when he took a cursory look around him. Jumping to his feet, he remembered that his only chance to sneak into the north wing undetected was to stay on Neville’s heels.
But the great doors before him were closed.
Putting his ear up to the crack, he could hear indistinct noises from within, but clearly he would no longer be able to enter unobserved from this direction. Ignoring the steady throbbing in his skull, Harry readjusted the Cloak and exited out the side door leading to the garden.
Despite the symmetry of the buildings, there was no arbored patio on this side, just a bit of sidewalk and more overgrown flowerbeds. Recalling a small powder room adjoining the music room, Harry tentatively peeked into the windows set into a small curved wall jutting out from the long expanse of the north wing. He was rewarded by the sight of ceramic fixtures and a deep Roman tub with fancy brass fittings. Gingerly, he tried to ease the closest window open, but it unlatched only a few inches before it caught. Even though he would not be able to climb through bodily, it did allow him to hear the conversations from the main room.
“”obviously, the parents were the prizes, the son seems to be a throwback,” Voldemort commented acerbically. “Not much of a notch in your belt, Bella.”
“Surely, we could use him to draw the others forth, my Lord,” Bellatonks oozed in an ingratiating tone.
“Ha! I’d cut my losses if I were them!” Voldemort retorted with an inhuman snort.
“How else would they have found us, my Lord?” offered another voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Harry.
“The younger Longbottom was their designated ferryman, of course,” Voldemort returned. “Another oversight from Bella’s youth.”
“…bait for the trap,” remarked a strangely accented voice.
“The estate is the bait!” Voldemort corrected him sharply. “Harry Potter would go to great lengths just to breath the same air as his sainted parents. It was only a matter of time…. We’ll have to see what offerings the Little Rat brings to lay at his Master’s feet. See which one of you earns the highest favor today. Surely, you haven’t lost your competitive spirit, Bella?”
Amid the derisive laughter in the background, Harry heard a noise that chilled him to the bone. It was as if plates of sharp glass were grinding mercilessly against one another, the sound hurting his eyes more than his eardrums.
“Masssster,” came a soft papery voice from inside Harry’s skull, “thisss Bella isss not what ssshe appearssss. Unlessss, ssshe’sss jussst returned from a rejuvenating ssspa…. Besssides, Massster, if ssshe hasss that boy, how will the otherssss find their way to your elegant sssoirée?”
It had to be Nagini, Voldemort’s gigantic boa. Harry recalled that snakes had a very advanced sense of smell in their forked tongues.
“Ssssage advisssse, my pet,” Voldemort crooned darkly. Harry suppressed a shudder as his mind conjured up the image of long, clawlike figures caressing the raspy scales of the sinuous snake. “Your counsssel isss alwaysss mossst obssservant.”
“Loyaltiesss are like the ssshifting sssandsss…” Nagini hissed.
There was absolutely no doubt the exchange had been in Parseltongue. With the overriding thought that he had to warn Tonks and Neville, Harry boldly Apparated into the adjoining bathroom.
Madam Pomfrey jumped to her feet at Lupin’s suggestion. “You will do no such thing!” she barked. “I didn’t come all the way to this storm-tossed cliff just to watch you render yourself unconscious!”
“I’m entitled to send a message to my wife,” Lupin returned with barely banked anger. “Even prisoners of war are granted that privilege!”
“Yes,” Pomfrey accorded, “but you cannot conjure a Patronus to do it. Remus, be reasonable.”
“How do you suggest I get a ruddy owl past a Fidelius Charm then?” Lupin countered.
“That could be a bit problematic,” Pomfrey acknowledged.
“While you’re pondering a conundrum that has defied much greater minds, how do you think Tonks and Harry are feeling not know what’s happened to the three of us?”
“Begging your pardon, Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione ventured. “Ron and I were assigned this task and we really should send a report back.”
“Unless you’ve had more to eat all day than that apple, you’re in no state to be sending a Patronus, either. Nor is Ron,” Pomfrey cautioned in a much more patient tone. “If there’s no other way, I suppose I will have to do it. Will Tonks recognize the duck as coming from me?”
“Yes, but she’s bound to disbelieve your message as just being a means of misdirection. Then she’ll worry needlessly.”
“What’s to keep her from thinking a message directly from you wasn’t sent under enemy threat, Remus?” Hermione pointed out. “This is just circular reasoning.”
“We have codes,” Lupin explained, his tone much less confrontational when he was addressing Hermione. “Things only known to one another. Things I would not divulge under penalty of death.”
Personal things, of course. She should have guessed without having to embarrass him. “Perhaps we should send a message to Harry then,” Hermione suggested. “He won’t delay in passing it on to Tonks.”
“Excellent suggestion,” Pomfrey agreed. “Now what would convince Harry that a message being delivered via my Patronus was truly originating from Remus?… What nickname do you use to refer to me in conversation?”
Lupin looked like he’d been caught off guard for a moment, then he replied silkily, “I don’t know what you mean, Poppy.”
“Now, Remus, it’s no use pretending you don’t talk about me behind my back,” Pomfrey returned knowingly. “You and I butt heads far too often for it not to be so… Surely, you don’t expect me to assume you just call me by my given name; what would be the fun in that?”
Hermione had never before seen Lupin literally at a loss for words. It was actually rather amusing, if one disregarded the circumstances.
After a long pause, Lupin licked his lips nervously and whispered, “Hermione’s going to think I’m a total scoundrel.”
“Rubbish.” Pomfrey giggled in a surprisingly girlish manner.
“With all due respect, Remus,” Hermione interjected with a wicked grin, “wasn’t that a prerequisite for being a Marauder?”
Lupin chuckled at their deviousness, then warned Hermione, “Just remember that as your Head of House, I can make your life miserable.”
“Do you want to send the message or not?” Pomfrey urged.
“Yes,” Lupin capitulated. “Just give me a moment to think… I believe I once used the term ‘Napoleonic harpie’”merely in an affectionate manner, of course.”
Hermione barely noticed the stern nurse hiding her smile as she was too busy keeping from laughing out loud herself. Lupin really did have a gift for epithets, she decided.
“Very imaginative.” Pomfrey nodded slowly. “I suppose it far outshines the code name I use for you.” She waited for the realization to dawn on Lupin’s face before she continued slyly, “What, you think you’re the only one who’s ever had to blow off some steam?”
“You really have me intrigued, Poppy,” Lupin admitted. “I don’t suppose a fair trade would be in order?”
“With the understanding that none of it leaves this room “ er, cave,” Pomfrey stipulated as she looked directly at Hermione. Satisfied with Hermione’s pantomime of crossing her heart, she continued, “I’ve been known to refer to you as ‘the Love-Starved Wolf Cub’.”
Momentary shock fell over Lupin’s face before he threw back his head and laughed. Almost immediately, he caught his breath and grimaced in pain. “I suppose I deserved that,” he surrendered. “But I didn’t expect it to literally hurt so much!”
“Now what would you like the Patronus message to say?” Pomfrey smiled.
“No one’s sending a message to anyone,” the crisp tones of the Headmistress rang out in the cavern as she Apparated near the entrance.
Ron looked somewhat dizzy after releasing her arms and sat down heavily on the nearest boulder. His eyes were bright as he flashed a sheepish grin in Hermione’s direction.
“I’ve already sent a brief message advising Aberforth that the three of you have resurfaced,” McGonagall continued. “Any more detailed transmissions, regardless of how welcome, could cause a fatal distraction at this time.”
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: With help from Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry devises a desperate plan to spring the trap; Ron returns from Hogwarts with Poppy Pomfrey in tow.