Disclaimer: With humble gratitude to J. K. Rowling for allowing me to build castles in her sandbox once more.
Forty - Six
Harry: A Trick of the Moonlight
After a week of unrelenting rain, the square of moonlight on Harry’s desk blotter shone unnaturally white. Spectrally white. Not to mention that nagging feeling that there was something he was overlooking. Readjusting his glasses, he resigned himself to the sheaf of parchment before him.
So they’d given him a spacious private office with his recent promotion. He’d certainly need it to store all the extra paperwork that had descended on him like an avalanche. There had to be some way to streamline the process, especially now that tensions had cooled.
No longer did every overturned rock come with a dark collaborator clinging to it, for Merlin’s sake!
He’d make it a priority once he unraveled the current backlog, Harry promised himself. No sense trying to revamp the process until he fully understood just how convoluted it truly was.
There it was again. That same unsettling pinch at the base of his spine.
He stared blankly at the glowing embers in the hearth before him, allowing his intuition free rein. His stray thoughts wandered back to the conversation he’d had with Ginny just minutes before. A guilty look at his watch and he amended that to: three-quarters of an hour earlier.
So how many files had he closed out in the interim? One, maybe two. No more than three.
Briefly, he debated drawing the blinds to block out the long string of dreary days that signaled the coming of winter. In the end, he relented. After all, having an office with a magical window to the outdoors was a privilege, particularly as the Ministry of Magic was essentially underground.
Perhaps he was just hungry, Harry considered, imagining the boisterous Friday night supper at the Burrow. Ginny had accepted that he was stuck at his desk then decreed that was no reason to stay home waiting for him, either. He could detect the unspoken anxiety about the upcoming match -- it would mark Ginny’s temporary reassignment to commentating from the sidelines -- but let it pass. Instead, he’d assured her that if he could just manage to clear one stack tonight, they’d have the whole day tomorrow to take his godson on a picnic.
That was when Ginny had relayed the main reason she’d interrupted him, –Andromeda wants to postpone the picnic until next weekend.â€
–Is it still raining there?†Harry recalled asking. –It finally stopped here about midday.â€
–It tapered off here as well,†Ginny confirmed. –Andromeda must have some other conflict. Any reason we can’t be flexible?â€
–I suppose not. What about the Quidditch match on Sunday afternoon? Teddy so enjoys pointing you out to the people next to us, insisting that the green and copper blur is his ‘Auntie’ Ginny.†So the lad would just identify her in the reviewing stand instead of the air; it hardly mattered.
–She promised to have Teddy ready by late morning.â€
–Then Andromeda won’t be joining us?â€
–I got the impression she would make a final decision on Sunday morning. Is it that big a deal?â€
–Probably not,†Harry relented. The tickets were complimentary anyway.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted Harry’s musings.
–Excuse me, Mr. Potter. Just doin’ me rounds,†came the familiar tones of the night clerk, Rudy.
–I’m fine,†Harry replied. –Just about to give it up for the night myself. Give me a moment and I’ll walk up to the Atrium with you.â€
With Ginny away, there was no reason he couldn’t tackle the paperwork at home, a privilege that came with his new status. It really wasn’t that late anyway. Autumn moonrises were notoriously early, he reminded himself.
Apparating to the back stoop, he let himself into the kitchen to find a pot of soup and some cold chicken under a Preservation Charm. His stomach growled in anticipation.
A quick change into comfortable clothes and he was clearing the desk in the small office with a wand in one hand and a sandwich in the other. The weathered wood was bathed in cool moonlight from the solitary window, allowing Harry to leave a number of wall brackets unlit.
Again his eyes were drawn to the luminous dial of his watch. Its face glowed with a mother of pearl sheen not unlike the moon itself. Harry absently reviewed the astronomical data that was an essential component of all magical timepieces. So it had been the full moon just yesterday, not that anyone would’ve known through the persistent curtain of grey rain. That accounted for the alluring silver light washing past the window sash at his back.
He Summoned his briefcase but was arrested by the sight of a bulging bag of mail awaiting Mrs. Canary’s attention. Why the woman had only been away visiting family for a few days. What could possibly inspire strangers to keep sending letters? The Boy-Who-Managed-to-Defy-the-Odds-into-Manhood was no longer a novelty. Were there really that many in desperate need of a pen pal?
Harry never sent personal messages back; not even an acknowledgement. Percy had been quick to point out that Mrs. Canary was not running the Harry Potter Fan Club; she was seeing that no suspicious or threatening correspondence arrived that would need to be turned over to Magical Law Enforcement.
Catching sight of a discarded Daily Prophet, it all fell into place. Not only had the paper reported Harry’s promotion, it also carried a lengthy story about last month’s investigation into illegal plant propagation. The enquiry had actually been spearheaded by the Plant Division of the Committee on Experimental Breeding, but somehow the Prophet had made it seem like he’d been the one in charge -- just because it had been his suggestion that Neville Longbottom be called in as consultant.
Sodding reporters! They wouldn’t know the truth if it offered to buy them a round of Firewhiskey. Small wonder the Prophet boasted of breaking news before anyone else; if the facts were too slow in coming, they’d just cobble the pieces together as they saw fit.
Nothing but a bunch of muckrakers determined to create the semblance of a scandal just to bolster their sales figures! It had been a story that merited a tiny headline on page ten, not a banner headline decreeing: DESPITE RUMORS TO THE CONTRARY, MALFOY MANOR DENIES PROPAGATION OF AGGRESSIVE PLANT SPECIES.
Why couldn’t the Prophet just leave that family to lick its wounds in private? Wasn’t it enough that Lucius Malfoy had suffered the misfortune to back the wrong hippogriff? Hard to believe that just a few years before the same man had been peddling the ideals of a pureblood plutocracy to the Minister for Magic himself.
It wasn’t until Harry reviewed the incident report for missed details that the true state of Lucius’ health had become clear. Healers on staff explained that repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse took its toll on the nervous system. Even if the torture had been spread out over a number of months, there would still be long-range effects such a premature aging.
Luckily for Lucius, his body had been able to recuperate somewhat between bouts of painful retraining. That more than anything had left his sanity intact, even if he sometimes got the past and the present a bit confused. It was for this very condition that Narcissa Malfoy had harvested the leaves and fetid berries of the nightshade plant. In the proper solution, its unique sap was a soothing sedative that helped her husband put things in the proper perspective -- especially after a long nap.
Now why had he come into this room in the first place? Harry absently chewed on the last crusty edge of his sandwich. It wasn’t the mountain of boring parchments that still awaited his review; no, it really hadn’t been anything to do with his Auror paperwork.
In a flash, he had it! After several frenzied moments of searching among Mrs. Canary’s filing system that included everything down to laundry stubs, he found the stray documents from the Malfoy raid.
Pollination charts, Audrey had called them as she quickly sketched in the details of the moonlight garden Narcissa had so ardently envisioned. –Just bear in mind the proper phase of the moon and place these particular plants in close proximity to one another,†she’d explained. –Crack a greenhouse window and the evening breeze will do the rest.â€
Using the extra pages, Harry manually notated the approximate dates when Andromeda had been feeling indisposed.
He had to be certain, he reminded himself as he Summoned Mrs. Canary’s box of clippings. All manner of discarded admission receipts and programs were obsessively stashed away to create a patchwork of his past few years.
–You’ll thank me the day the biographers ask for an accounting,†she scolded him. –Or would you rather they just string random facts together like they did in Dumbledore’s case?â€
Mistaking Harry’s huff as an invitation to continue, she’d added, –I’m not the only one who would’ve preferred to read about Dumbledore’s life in his own words -- not the acid claptrap that Skeeter hack delivered. The man’s brother really should sue the publishers…â€
Recognizing that Albus had been an intensely private man, perhaps Aberforth would rather just let him rest in peace. But there was no point in telling Mrs. Canary that, not when she was in one of her ‘steamroller’ moods.
–As the youngest Minister for Magic on record, you’ll be wanting to write your memoirs…â€
–Does Kingsley know you’re planning a coup?†he interjected wryly.
–Don’t be naïve. All governments eventually topple. That’s the natural way of things. And after you’re deposed…â€
Deciding it was easier to play along, Harry amended, –Or retire early to spend time with my family.â€
–Whichever,†Mrs. C dismissed with a casual wave of her hand. –You’ll want those details about your early career that are always glossed over in political memoirs. Instead we get a rehash of what we already know with little insight into what actually made the man.â€
–I’d rather they just leave me alone,†Harry grumbled, but he knew that was highly unlikely. Besides, Ginny might decide to start a scrapbook like Fleur had done after the birth of her daughters.
It wasn’t difficult to identify those outings which had included Teddy. Then he included the ones where Andromeda had also been present. With two years of data spread before him, he intoned the spell that would transfer the notations to the ivory calendar pages. The pattern was unmistakable; he just couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to catch on.
Perhaps it was because he’d never considered that his godson might be a werewolf.
Harry had never really thought of Remus in those terms; he was just….well, Remus. A man whose shoulders were often slumped with the undeserved slings of society, but also one who defied expectations with unplumbed depths of compassion. Life’s hard lessons had taught Remus to bottle himself up from an early age. Only among those who accepted him wholeheartedly would he permit his mischievous side to shine forth, the very quality that had earned him a spot among the fabled Marauders.
The sting of unshed tears made Harry turn away from the past and refocus on the present. Of course, he’d asked Andromeda what precautions she took when the moon was full, recalling the tale of a young boy who had wandered into the bordering woods to see what creatures were truly nocturnal as his animal books claimed. Remus had confided that much to Arthur and the cautionary tale had been handed down to each of the Weasley children.
–All the windows and doors are locked with complex magic,†Andromeda confirmed. –No one arrives and no ones leaves during those hours. The only thing that keeps me from setting a Fidelius Charm is that I don’t want to cut myself off from outside help in an emergency.â€
Harry’d taken it at face value, never realizing until that very moment that Andromeda tirelessly watched Teddy sleep in his crib those nights, dreading the first cry that would hint at a transformation. Attuning her life to the lunar cycles, the very irony of it was inescapable. At the same time, it was also a fitting tribute to Remus’ memory.
Harry waited until the spectre of the full moon retreated in a week’s time before confronting Andromeda. –Didn’t you seek the advice of a Healer?†he demanded, his distress causing his voice to be more strident than strictly polite.
Unperturbed, she assured him that she had. –Just as soon as things settled down after Voldemort’s fall that we weren’t putting ourselves in danger.â€
–And the prognosis?â€
She sighed dejectedly. –That they really didn’t know much about such cases. That werewolves often kept their families as far away from mainstream Healers as possible. An unfortunate side effect --â€
–-- of intolerant attitudes,†Harry cut across.
–It’s not as bad as all that,†Andromeda soothed as she laid a comforting hand on Harry’s arm. –Remus himself said there was only a very slim chance.â€
–You talked to Remus about this?†It was like hearing a voice from the grave, but Harry needed to know. For his own sake, for the sake of his godson. Even if every such memory only stirred up guilty regrets in the depths of his soul.
–I tried to talk to Dora about it. Countless times she just brushed me off. She was always so certain I was wordlessly criticizing her rash decision to marry Remus.â€
–She felt that you were treating her like a child,†Harry commiserated.
–She was insecure that way,†Andromeda nodded. –On the other hand, Remus was quite pragmatic about the whole thing -- once he’d finally accepted his impending fatherhood, that is. One night while Dora was happily soaking in the bath, he quietly took me aside. We could hear the merry laughter as she built soap bubble castles atop her pregnant belly, but Remus’ eyes were serious as he led me down the stairs.
– ‘Dora tells me you’ve been curious about the baby,’ he began. ‘Whether it will have inherited attributes from both parents.’
–I could tell he was uncomfortable, so I placated, ‘Remus, that’s a given.’
– ‘Right,’ he mumbled self-consciously. ‘Whether he’ll be a werewolf.’
– ‘Is that even possible?’ I asked. ‘I thought you had to be bitten.’
–He nodded wordlessly. ‘So I’ve always understood; but I can’t point you to any clinical studies that support this. It’s just something I know in my heart. I would never have married your daughter if I thought otherwise.’
– ‘Not even if the two of you agreed to remain childless?’ I pressed.
– ‘Not even then,’ he testified solemnly. ‘Accidents can always happen.’
– ‘Remus, I know how impetuous my daughter can be.’
–He gave me a genuine smile as he returned, ‘She brings out that side of me as well.’â€
Harry felt the tightness in his throat intensify as Andromeda wiped a stray tear from her elegant cheek.
–So you understand why Teddy has to stay with me during the full moon,†she explained. –I promised myself I’d keep watch until he was in the clear. That was the one thing the Healers agreed upon: if he’d inherited Remus’ malady, the first signs would appear before the age of six or seven.â€
–But you must be exhausted the next day,†Harry sympathized. –Please let Ginny and me take him for a few days to let you recover. At least let us do that.â€
Andromeda gave him a bittersweet smile. –All right, Harry. We’ll see how that works out. Ginny told me she’d refurbished an old crib. One that even folds down into a toddler bed.â€
–Found it in the attic at the Burrow.†He omitted the part about how she’d had to negotiate its release from the resident ghoul. –It’s faithfully served a number of Weasley generations.â€
If Healers didn’t have much practical knowledge, Harry decided he would just have to approach it from a theoretical angle. At least he knew where to begin his inquiries.
–Hermione, did you work much with the Werewolf Division during your time at the Department for Regulation and Control?â€
In the background, a game of three-a-side Quidditch was just heating up in the meadow adjoining the Burrow.
Hermione returned a fond smile. –Some. But I don’t purport to be an expert.â€
No, Remus was the expert. Yet Harry suspected there were many things the poor man hadn’t experienced in his truncated life.
–I could direct you to some books,†she offered. –Discounting the ones which maintain that werewolves are nothing but monsters in our midst, there are a handful which seek to foster understanding.â€
–Any penned by werewolves themselves?â€
–Sadly, no. It’s all secondhand knowledge. Werewolves tend to be an insular lot.â€
–Can you blame them? Wizards hardly --â€
–Treat them better than animals? I’m not sure that’s even so. Clearly, werewolves have no real place in society like house elves or goblins. But I’ve always thought there was a reason for that.â€
–Surely, you’re not defending those who kept Remus from finding gainful employment!â€
She gave Harry a stern look. –Hardly. But to find a solution, it’s best to examine the seeds of prejudice. Redirect it when possible. In this case, it’s a werewolf’s intellect that works against him; others just can’t acknowledge that he’s fundamentally human.â€
–Bollocks! Animagi change shape and no one brands them as willful beasts!â€
Despite the addition of Percy to their ranks, the team of Ginny and Bill was soundly trouncing Ron, George and Angelina.
–I agree. No one sets out to become a werewolf. Therefore, the analogy to an Animagus is flawed from the start. Perhaps a Metamorphmagus is more similar -- but then there’s the issue of the wolf transformation occurring involuntarily.â€
From the fence line, Arthur was describing the finer points of the game for his grand-daughter’s benefit. Dominique was giggling happily in his arms as she barraged him with a series of questions.
–I’ve always preferred to categorize lycanthropy as a chronic disease,†Hermione elaborated. –Suffers instead of victims; that avoids them being blamed for their own misfortunes. Not to mention that society instinctively seeks treatment for sufferers.â€
Harry nodded his approval; her approach would make the conversation less taxing. –Any clues on whether this type of affliction is hereditary? Not all diseases are.â€
Her eyes softened with understanding. –You’re worried about Teddy, aren’t you? No wonder you waited for an occasion when he and Andromeda weren’t present.â€
–Can you blame me? Teddy’s like a tireless ferret when it comes to sniffing out conversations. Nothing is safe from his little ears.â€
–That’s what privacy charms are for,†she whispered.
–That just makes him more determined to get to the heart of the matter!â€
–Unfortunately, I don’t have any answers. Did you try a Healer?â€
–They have a wait-and-see attitude. And no details. Surely, Remus can’t be the only werewolf who ever fathered a child!â€
–Probably not. But werewolves tend to stay away from Healers. Their inherent resistance to disease --â€
– -- makes it an unnecessary expense,†he finished.
–Exactly.â€
–Anything in those books about reproductive issues?â€
–No, but it’s hardly needed. As I said before, werewolves are fundamentally human. Otherwise, Remus would’ve been unable to conceive a child with anyone who wasn’t a werewolf as well.â€
–What about at the full moon?†It was a chilling thought, but he had to give it voice.
–Werewolves are hardly sexual predators, if that’s what you mean. They don’t seek out willing damsels to bear their children; simply biting their victims is a much more efficient way to increase their ranks.â€
–What does your common sense tell you?â€
Hermione took a few minutes to consider her response. –That both parents have to be werewolves in order to for the offspring to be afflicted from birth. I see it as a recessive gene, not a dominant one.â€
–Muggle genetics don’t carry over into the wizarding world. You proved that yourself when you attempted to chart the origin of Muggle-born wizards.â€
–A doomed attempt from start to finish. That’s how my Muggle Studies teacher categorized it.â€
Nevertheless, Professor Burbage had been impressed enough with Hermione’s choice of subject matter that she’d given her high marks. Harry remembered the incident clearly from Hermione’s single year of Muggle Studies.
Catching sight of Molly, Hermione suggested, –If it’s folk wisdom about babies you’re after, let’s not overlook the resident expert.â€
Harry shook his head sadly. –No, this needs to stay close,†he whispered. –Molly will just fret in that unique way of hers that invariably draws everyone in.â€
Hermione nodded that she understood. –It’s not that she can’t keep a secret, exactly… It’s that her body language tends to undermine her.â€
Three weeks before his seventh birthday, Teddy caught his grandmother dozing. On silent soles, he crept up beside her rocking chair and placed a small hand on her shoulder.
–Does the moon sing to you, too?†His voice was but a whisper, but the implications jarred Andromeda deeply. How could she have been so negligent to close her eyes on the night of the full moon?
Quickly recovering, she managed, –Old ladies like me can fall asleep anywhere.â€
–You’re not old, Nana,†Teddy soothed as he snuggled into her lap. He was almost too tall to manage it, but Andromeda allowed it anyway. –Elphias Doge, now he’s old. See how thin and white his hair is.†The figure on Teddy’s newest Chocolate Frog card obligingly removed his violet cap to reveal a wide patch of baldness.
Harry had not been present for this interchange, but Andromeda had taken him aside when he came to retrieve his godson the next morning. Despite the misgivings that were curdling his morning tea, Harry waved it off as inconsequential.
–You know what a vivid imagination Teddy has,†he soothed. –Always weaving stories from the characters in his picture books.â€
–All children do that when they’re first learning to read; it’s their way of supplying the unfamiliar words. This was different.â€
–Could it be that he was just surprised to find you in his bedroom when he rose to visit the loo?â€
–Teddy never wakes up at night,†Andromeda insisted. –Not even for a drink of water.â€
Harry considered her words, then promised, –I’ll see what I can find out. Teddy always talks to me.â€
–And how exactly do you proposed to interrogate a six year old?â€
–By treating him like an adult,†Harry returned. –It’s a technique I watched Remus use with great success.â€
Harry made a point of lingering at Teddy’s bedside the following evening. The hooded lantern bathed the overhead beams in a rosy glow, making the long attic room in Harry’s cottage seem intimate and cozy. The far end of the space was slowly being converted into a nursery as Ginny’s firstborn was due in a few months’ time. It meant that Teddy would have to forgo a chunk of the attic, but the blueprints allowed for a shared play area before the wide dormer window.
Deliberately, Harry drew back the curtains to that very window, allowing a patch of moonlight to spill over Teddy’s quilt. Behind lilac clouds, the waning moon was still heavy in the sky.
–Beautiful, isn’t it?†Harry ventured. –Want to take a look for yourself?â€
Teddy didn’t need to be told twice as he scrambled out of bed to stand at his godfather’s side. The lad’s eyes widened with curiosity as the ghostly light framed the back garden in unfamiliar hues.
–Rather like one of those old black-and-white photos,†Harry continued softly. –See how the silver paving stones contrast against the black plantings.â€
–Plants are green,†Teddy noted matter-of-factly. –Unless they’re dead -- and then they’re brown.â€
–Do you see a hint of green in that landscape?†Harry demanded. –Look with your eyes, not your brain, now.â€
Teddy shook his head to the negative.
–And that toy wagon over there; see how it’s brownish? What color is it in the daylight?â€
–Red,†Teddy supplied without hesitation.
Harry paused as if in thought. –People like us don’t see very clearly at night. Not even when the moon acts as our lantern.â€
–Animals do,†Teddy countered. –My book says many see better at night.â€
–The nocturnal ones. Can you say that?â€
–Knock-turn,†Teddy echoed.
–Nal,†Harry corrected gently. –Three syllables. Noc. Tur. Nal.â€
–Knock-turn-nal.â€
–That’s good,†Harry praised. –Many animals do hunt at night, when their enhanced night vision gives them the advantage.â€
–Owls hunt at night,†Teddy contributed.
–Do you know what they hunt?â€
–Mice!â€
–And if you were a little mouse, you know what your momma-mouse would say to you? ‘Don’t stick your nose out of our little warren if you don’t want to become some great, big owl’s midnight snack.’â€
Teddy giggled at the squeaky voice Harry adopted for the mother mouse. –Nana says it’s dangerous for boys and girls to wander outside at night. Why’s that, Harry? I’m bigger and smarter than a little mouse.â€
–And much more sensible,†Harry attested solemnly. –But there are bigger predators afoot as well. That’s what you call an animal which hunts another, a predator. Dragons hunt at night sometimes.â€
–All the Welsh Greens are locked away,†Teddy responded with a small scowl. –Aunt Ginny told me so. Even when she was a little girl and hoped one would fly over the Burrow by accident.â€
–A whole multitude of magical creatures hunt at night. Some which seem as inoffensive as little children on the surface, but turn out to be rather nasty indeed.â€
–I’m not afraid of garden gnomes,†Teddy confirmed with a hint of pride. –Uncle Ron taught me how to sling them over the hedge like a real pro.â€
Harry gave a mock gasp, –Garden gnomes wouldn’t dare set foot in Nana’s garden!â€
Teddy giggled in reply. –She could probably glare them away.â€
–And rightly so. But here in the countryside, things are not as domesticated as in the city. You have to be extra careful of those beings who specialize in leading lost people astray.â€
–Hinkypunks and redcaps. Saw the drawings in my mum’s old schoolbooks.â€
–Among others,†Harry concurred. –Now back to bed with you where you’re safe and sound.â€
Two days later, Andromeda presented Harry with a color drawing Teddy had made of a hinkypunk fairly teetering on its single foot. In its wispy claws, it held a golden lantern out to lure unwary travelers into the bog. Its fiendish grin was full of anticipation for the moment when his hidden cohorts would leap upon the victim and wrestle him underwater.
–He has a way of capturing the nasty little details,†Harry chuckled darkly.
–One of Dora’s books, I’m afraid. Meant to warn children, not serve as artistic inspiration,†Andromeda huffed.
–And Dora was always so pliable at Teddy’s age…â€
–No, she was a right little daredevil! But she wasn’t being lured by the night’s dark magic, either.â€
–All children are different,†Ginny supplied. –Some take to climbing trees. Or flying broomsticks to snatch the reddest apples from the tops of the trees. One way or another, they all break the rules. I think it says that in the official kid’s handbook.â€
–A broken arm I can reset,†Andromeda harrumphed. –But a werewolf bite is something all together different!â€
The remains of the portable refrigeration unit lay sprawled out on the pitted workbench. With a surgeon’s intensity, Arthur Weasley poured over a mangled track of coils, condensers, and rusted fan blades. A schematic of the inner circuitry lay at his left elbow for easy reference. Even so, Harry doubted the unit would ever return to workable condition.
At his son-in-law’s entrance, Arthur looked up with an entranced grin. –Blimey, if I can figure out how this portable dementor works! Muggle ingenuity eludes me once more.â€
–Just remember that Muggles don’t use it to suck the joy out of one another,†Harry countered.
Arthur nodded, –Just to suck the heat out of objects. Can it truly freeze enough ice to make an igloo at the height of summer?â€
–A very small igloo. One prone to melt almost immediately.â€
–Even so, it’s a truly magical gadget. Muggles don’t appreciate the true magnificence of their creations.â€
–Glad to hear our trip to the rubbish heap wasn’t a waste.â€
–Never!†Arthur extolled. –Yet I suspect you have something else weighing on your mind.â€
Harry eased himself into the wooden bench opposite, the metallic train wreck gleaming dully between them. –It’s Teddy. The more I try to warn him of the dangers that lurk in the night, the more he yearns to unravel their mysteries.â€
–Like father, like son,†Arthur commiserated.
–That’s what I’m honor-bound to prevent,†Harry stressed.
–Remus did well to make you godfather. I take it you’re here for advice…â€
–Tell me how you kept your brood in line. The overgrown meadows surrounding the Burrow seem ideal for exploration. At night as well as day.â€
Arthur shrugged. –Not sure that I succeeded. Molly’s a right juggernaut, but that didn’t keep the others from testing her on a regular basis.â€
–But not at night,†Harry prompted.
–That, too,†Arthur sighed. –Did Ginny ever tell you about the lovelorn ghoul?â€
–The same one who’s taken a shine to Ron’s old pajamas?â€
–The very same. When the youngest were still at home, Bill and Charlie would often embellish their Hogwarts’ lessons, beguiling their siblings with the imaginary exploits that awaited them once they reached the ripe age of eleven. In their innocence, their brothers and sister absorbed but rarely questioned.â€
Harry nodded, recalling Ron’s assertion that wrestling a troll was part of the sorting ceremony.
–After an evening of tall tales, the more impressionable ones were often unsettled when the ghoul had a particularly boisterous night; couldn’t hardly get them back to sleep. So Molly and I attempted to ease their distress by telling them that the ghoul was just homesick for his family. A wholly innocent concoction that got twisted by Bill and Charlie into ‘the ghoul was pining for his lost love.’†Arthur nodded sheepishly, acknowledging that he’d been bested by his children yet again.
–I take it there were repercussions,†Harry urged gamely.
–Always are when Percy gets involved. He argued that it was all a pile of steaming tripe, a gentle excuse meant for little children only.â€
Harry cringed involuntarily. The phrase ‘little children’ was guaranteed to raise the hackles of any child old enough to walk on his own two feet.
–So the challenge was set,†Arthur continued to reminisce. –Bill and Charlie were either two-faced liars or they would have to produce the ghoulish love interest.â€
–I thought ghouls were solitary creatures…â€
–Anti-social. But their body odor virtually guarantees that, doesn’t it? Not to be outdone, Bill explained that although he liked to keep it quiet, our ghoul came from a royal household in Ireland. He’d been destined to inhabit a posh attic, but found they had all been taken by his more enterprising brothers. While he found the bucolic country life at the Burrow quite suited him, his childhood sweetheart, the Roiling Bog Banshee, did not. Banshees are all but tied to the aristocratic households who depend on them to foretell impending death. How else would the relatives prepare to battle for their share of the deceased’s plunder?
– ‘So the banshee’s a stuck-up good-for-nothing,’ Ron insisted hotly.
– ‘Bloodly clueless, if you ask me,’ George opined. ‘Doesn’t know what she’s missing.’
– ‘Fancy houses have nothing on clean air and sunshine,’ Fred added.
–Buoyed by these comments, Bill and Charlie enticed each of their brothers to pen a testimonial extolling the underappreciated beauty of Ottery St. Catchpole and surroundings. Percy refused to participate, but the others did their best to convey an enticing picture. At age five, Ginny was entranced by the whole idea of princes and princesses, so she painted some watercolor illustrations to go along with the tourist guide. In her imagination, the Burrow was rendered as a rambling guest house with endless rooms, each done up with a different décor.â€
Harry’s brain conjured up the suitable rose-tinted rendition of Arthur’s words. A quick mental calculation placed the event about the time of the royal engagement which had kept his Aunt Petunia glued to the telly for months. Only at mealtimes would she awaken from fantasizing about the much anticipated union between the middle prince and the fiery-headed commoner he’d chosen for a wife.
–It came as no surprise that Errol gamely volunteered to deliver the travelogue to the lovelorn banshee,†Arthur chuckled. –He was younger then but still had no sense of direction whatsoever. No one was the wiser when he returned in a week’s time, wings caked with salty residue. No doubt jettisoned the whole packet somewhere over the ocean.
–With no change in the ghoul’s nocturnal habits, Bill and Charlie were faced with having to move on to the next phase: claiming that the banshee had been convinced to come for a visit in the very near future.â€
–Did you discover what they were plotting?â€
–Merlin, no! Not until after the fact. On a balmy moonless night, I awoke from a disturbing nightmare of Auntie Muriel arriving with a dozen steamer trunks while her cottage was being renovated. Claimed she had won a lottery sweepstakes when we all knew full well she was too tight-fisted to ever buy a ticket. I started awake with the distinct impression she was watching me from the foot of my bed, the summer breeze so reminiscent of her favorite cologne. I noticed that the ghoul was blessedly silent, but then he always was when Muriel visited lest she accuse him once again of being nothing but a pile of reeking rags.
–I’m not certain what drew me into the downstairs parlor that evening. There was certainly no squawking from the chickens; but then there wouldn’t be if the only persons afoot were the very ones charged with regularly feeding them.
–The glint off Percy’s new spectacles gave his presence away on the front porch. As my eyes grew accustomed to the low light, the blackish lumps dotting the front lawn resolved into the others: Fred and George nervously jockeying for position, Ron clutching a pillow to his chest, and Ginny dragging her favorite plush hippogriff. Beyond them, a scarecrow-like creature was just visible over the hedge. It teetered drunkenly from side to side, the tattered remnants of Molly’s nightshift swaying in the wind.
–I barely stifled my laughter as I made my way silently out the back door and circled ‘round the chicken coop. A quick silencing spell kept the bold rooster from giving me away. Just as the banshee’s mouth opened to emit its mournful song, I let loose an Aguamenti Charm that knocked the top part off his brother’s shoulders. Bill landed with a mighty crash in the hedges, reappearing almost immediately with a number of angry garden gnomes in pursuit. Charlie fell back on his rump, dripping and sputtering with laughter.
– ‘And here I thought banshees were creatures of damp and water,’ I teased. ‘You two look more like fugitives from a lunatic asylum!’
– ‘And not very threatening ones at that!’ Percy harrumphed.
– ‘Blimey, you scared the devil out of George!’ Fred supplied.
– ‘Did not!’ his brother countered. ‘It was you shaking like a ruddy leaf…’
– ‘Only ‘cuz you wouldn’t let go of my dressing gown…’ Fred shot back as they descended into an argument.
–Not to be outdone, the hens had fully awakened into pandemonium, flapping wildly against their enclosure. Still looking a bit unsteady on his feet, the rooster was doing his best to seem dignified amidst the squabble.
–The thunderclap of the back door brought us all up short. Striding like a general in our midst, Molly took stock of the charade. ‘Out of bed in the middle of the night!’ she scolded. ‘Arthur, you should know better!’
– ‘Me?’ I balked.
– ‘No one else to answer by that name.’
– ‘I came to diffuse the situation,’ I maintained.
– ‘Is that so? Then why was it your laugh that jolted me out of my beauty sleep?’
–I relented as she turned her sights on the other miscreants.
– ‘And look at the lot of you,’ Molly continued without losing momentum. ‘Gone for a dip in the pond, have you? Let me guess, looking for nocturnal grindylows.’
– ‘There’s no such thing,’ returned Bill matter-of-factly.
– ‘Just you wait ‘til I finish with you!’ Molly fumed as she marched them back into the house. ‘I think cleaning the attic will be just the thing. Seeing as how you’re so entranced by the misadventures of our resident ghoul.’
–What could I say?†Arthur allowed. –She was right on all counts.â€
–But didn’t you say it was a moonless night?†Harry clarified.
–The better to not cast shadows,†Arthur replied. –Besides, my children had enough sense to stay inside during the full moon.â€
Now that was more like it! –And how did you convey this to them?†Harry prodded.
Then felt his heart sink as Arthur answered, –Didn’t have to. Remus was always there as an object lesson. He was reeling from the loss of his three best friends when I first invited him to Sunday dinner. Bill was still nursing and Charlie was already on the way. I suppose it’s that same generosity that led me to bring Percy a pet rat in a cage,†Arthur added with a wry chuckle. –That didn’t turn out so well.â€
Experience had taught Harry that Pettigrew’s diabolical machinations were more likely to blame that Arthur’s benevolence, but he kept this thoughts to himself.
–So you could say that my children grew up in his shadow -- or rather the shadow of his affliction,†Arthur summarized. –No one would argue just how affable and capable a wizard Remus was, but nobody wanted to be rebuffed at every turn. He was a walking reminder of the dangers posed by a full moon.â€
–So was Dad able to give you any insights?†Ginny pressed once they returned home.
–Remus was like a walking billboard,†Harry summarized.
–That’s hardly an exaggeration. None of us had any illusions about how humble our household was, but we lived in luxury compared to Remus. Through no fault of his own, the unfortunate man was practically destitute.â€
–Too bad I can’t bring the poor man’s spirit forth,†Harry suggested. As far as he knew, the Resurrection Stone had been swallowed by the leaf litter in the Forbidden Forest.
–Who’s to say you can’t?†Ginny returned unexpectedly. –Why you already have. In your story, silly. Remus’ spirit lives on in all of us; you just found the words to give it life.â€
–Then you think I should read my rambling tale to Teddy?â€
–Why not? Remus’ illness is revealed in slow doses. By the time you’ve the full picture, his gentle nature is present in equal measure.â€
Harry took a moment to consider. –It’s brilliant, Ginny! I’ll start tomorrow.â€
–He’s bound to have a mountain of questions,†Andromeda cautioned once Harry had outlined his plan.
–Nothing I can’t handle.â€
–We’ll see,†she returned with a grandmother’s knowing tone.
But much to their relief, Teddy was entranced by the tale of Harry and company returning to Hogwarts for their seventh year.
And why not? Harry mused inwardly. The lad was being afforded a rare window into the future. What youngster hadn’t yearned to be the fly on the wall when the older children embarked on the Hogwarts Express?
–Will it really be as grand as all that?†Teddy posed excitedly as his next birthday drew near. –It seems like it’s going to take forever before I’m old enough.â€
–Years,†Harry commiserated, remembering how long the days between Bonfire Night and Yuletide seemed as a child. As an adult, the weeks flew by in the time it took him to polish his racing broom. –Besides, it’s not always pleasant. Quidditch practice in a driving rainstorm is miserable on a thousand levels at once.â€
–Is that why that Snape fellow is always so mean-tempered?†Teddy asked.
Harry took a few minutes to compose his response. Severus Snape had always been the enigma, the wild card, the one obstacle that he’d never really been able to surmount. Even with the additional memories of his friendship with Lily, there was still so much about Snape that would remain locked away for eternity.
–He never learned to make friends, that’s for certain,†Harry allowed. –It didn’t help that Slytherins often bully their own housemates.â€
Almost immediately, his faux pas was thrown back at him. –Nana was in Slytherin House, too. Did she pick on Snape?â€
–Your nana’s much older than Snape. They weren’t at school together,†Harry clarified.
–Oh,†Teddy considered. –I thought you might say the girls were nicer than the boys.â€
Harry gave a wry laugh at being caught off-balance once more. –You’ll have to ask Nana about that.†From what he remembered, the Slytherin girls were an uppity bunch, likely to turn on each other like a nest of vipers -- but he wasn’t about to poison his godson’s thoughts with that!
–Did my dad have lots of friends?â€
–Don’t know much about his school days,†Harry admitted. –Only that he was close to both my parents and my godfather, Sirius.†Mentally, he dismissed the connection to young Peter Pettigrew; a full accounting of that rat’s perfidy could wait for another day. –I can tell you that he was immediately everyone’s favorite DADA teacher. We all looked forward to his classes, even though they were often challenging.â€
Teddy returned a satisfied smile. –And my mum?â€
–I remember what a great favorite she was among the Weasleys as she changed her features into all sorts of funny faces. Molly, of course, disapproved of such antics at the dinner table.â€
Teddy giggled mischievously at this, reminding Harry of how warm and welcoming that long kitchen at Grimmauld Place had been. With so many of the major players gone, the entire townhouse was a dark shell of its former self.
–Do you think he’s listening?†Teddy whispered.
–Who do you mean?†Harry stammered as the shroud of the past slipped from his shoulders.
–Dumblesnore.†Teddy gave a knowing nod in the direction of the collector cards lining his nursery walls.
–Dumbledore,†Harry corrected automatically.
–Not when he’s always sleeping,†Teddy countered lowly. –Or pretending to sleep. That’s what Nana thinks.â€
–But you think he’s listening instead?â€
Teddy nodded. –Do you think he reports back to my parents?â€
Harry gave an involuntary start. He hadn’t really considered what happened in the afterlife. Yet the Dumbledore he’d encountered in that ethereal train station had seemed substantial enough. Was it possible that Remus and Tonks shared a similar plane of existence?
–Can’t rightly say,†he shrugged with feigned nonchalance. –It was rumored that the members of the Order could use Chocolate Frog cards to communication among one another, but nothing ever came of it. Not everyone was pictured, you see.â€
–But weren’t my parents heroes like all the others?â€
–Better than most, I’d say. But the families of the less honorable wizards are likely causing a log jam in the process.â€
Teddy’s expression was far wiser than his years. –Nana says that the least deserving always try to hog the attention.â€
Harry considered that there would likely be a protracted battle among the Chocolate Frog executives before they agreed to commemorate a werewolf in such a fashion, but he kept that to himself. It was high time the world’s attitude changed and Remus’ accomplishments might just be the catalyst it needed.
Despite the slumbering Dumbledores decorating the nursery, it was another presence which Harry felt in the surrounding air. Sirius and Remus: the two men who’d taken it upon themselves to fill the gap left by Lily and James. Both men’s lives had been tainted by the repercussions of a single, bad decision. Sirius’ sentence in Azkaban had been sealed the moment he suggested substituting Pettigrew as Secretkeeper. Remus’ unlucky encounter with a werewolf had tainted the remainder of his days. Yet each had acknowledged Harry’s complex and often contradictory feelings, never making him feel like a simple gamepiece in the Dark Lord’s defeat.
It was their combined wisdom that Harry needed to convey to his godson, if only he could find the words. The ideal opening presented itself when Teddy inquired about Remus’ potion. –Why was my dad constantly sick?†he asked with innocent eyes.
Harry steeled himself for the inevitable as he replied simply, –He suffered from a disease from an early age. Not much older than you, as a matter of fact.â€
Teddy absorbed the details solemnly.
With renewed courage, Harry ventured, –Did I tell you about the night I became your godfather?â€
–Sure. Everyone was in hiding due to the war, but my dad risked his life to share the good news.â€
Harry nodded to show that was essentially correct. –Ron, Hermione, and I were tucked away with Bill’s family on the seaside. But it wasn’t the gentle waves that you recall from your visit; it was a full-blown gale. The wind was a chorus of rampaging hyenas wedging their bony claws between the clapboard slats; the floor planks groaned in unison. We were a pitiful group that night, huddling around an inadequate fire, all feeling insignificant before the evil swath of the Dark Lord’s minions.
–We assumed the worst when the door slammed open. Our first thought was that the protective shield of the Fidelius Charm had collapsed and our enemies were on the doorstep.
–It was a wonder your father’s broom wasn’t whipped into the stratosphere, but somehow he persevered. Sheer luck and stubbornness, I think. Either that, or he was so thoroughly happy that nothing short of a full battalion of dementors could squash his high spirits. He didn’t linger more than an hour or so, long enough to name me godfather and join us in a few toasts.
–When he disappeared into the tempest, we were infused with hope. Your birth signaled that life as we knew it would go on. It strengthened our determination that nothing would allow the encroaching shadow to gain a foothold in our lives.
–No one expected that both he and your mum would leave us within a month’s time. But with the commitment I made to Remus that night, he handed the reins of the new generation over to me. It was a sacred promise that I have maintained to this day. And he -- and anyone else listening in -- would think me a failure if I allowed you to fall into the same trap he did.
–For when he was a lad no older than you, he ventured into the light of the full moon one night after his parents had tucked him safely into bed. But instead of finding the nocturnal animals from his books, he ran headlong into a werewolf. It only took one bite to forever subvert his life.
–There is no cure, Teddy. To this day, the only known treatment is the Wolfsbane Potion. And it only allows a werewolf to sleep away the hours of his transformation into a wolf. It does not prevent the agonizing change itself, a process so draining that it often took your father days to recover from his ordeal. The long-term treatment I describe in my story does not exist; it was my dream that his collaboration with your mother would lead to such advancements.
–Only through Dumbledore’s generosity was Remus able to attend Hogwarts with those his own age. Years later, it was only Dumbledore who recognized your father’s true potential and made allowances for his monthly absences from his teaching duties. Other employers were not so accommodating, never giving Remus a chance to prove he was more than the cursed malady he’d contracted.
–I cannot let the same happen to you. Do you understand, Teddy?â€
Teddy nodded mutely, his eyes growing wide at the seriousness of the moment. –So he wasn’t born a werewolf?â€
Harry shook his head. –Doesn’t generally work that way. Your mother was born a Metamorphmagus just like you, but your father’s sickness was transmitted by another werewolf under the thrall of a full moon.â€
–Just the full moon?â€
–Of course. Werewolves are just like everyone else except when the full moon draws the wolf forth. Any other day, you’d pass one on the street and never know it.â€