Disclaimer: With humble gratitude to J. K. Rowling for allowing me to build castles in her sandbox once more.
Seven
Remus: The Yoke Tightens
“Bugger! Dumbledore again!” Tonks giggled at the unintended double entendre. Taking a large bite of the frog’s head, she lovingly smoothed out the collector card.
“Are you planning to wallpaper the baby’s room with those?” Andromeda asked indulgently. Then she nodded towards the row of cards which formed a veritable frame around her daughter’s dresser mirror.
Unable to resist the pull of their happiness in these dark times, Dumbledore blinked his bright, blue eyes playfully from the newest card.
Scrunching up her nose in thought, Tonks replied, “Just might turn out to be valuable one day. Especially since they introduced a newer version…recently.”
“Really? Can’t say I noticed.”
“It’s the lavender robes, see,” Tonks explained as her mother settled down on the window seat next to her. “He also holds his left hand behind his back.”
“The one that he injured no one knows how?”
“Not the only mystery he left behind,” Tonks sighed. “See how they show his date of death, but don’t provide any details.”
“Perhaps they don’t consider that his greatest accomplishment,” Remus interjected from the doorway.
Andromeda made as if to chastise him, but thought better of it as Tonks dissolved into laughter. Instead she posed, “Do you think the older cards will be more valuable now that an updated version’s available?”
Remus stopped to consider as he allowed his eyes to trail along the edges of the mirror. “Only if they stop issuing the older cards and it doesn’t seem like they have. Have you thrown any out, sweetheart?”
“Not since my pregnancy,” Tonks asserted. “They’ve become a good luck charm of sorts. I even saved the faded one that got thrown in the wash. The one you brought home in your pocket after your ill-advised tour of London alleyways.”
He accepted her ribbing good-naturedly. “Seems like we unwrap Dumbledore more often than not. Have they discontinued the other cards?”
“Don’t think so,” Tonks volunteered. “I found one of Circe the other day.”
“At least the manufacturer hasn’t seen to issue any with the faces of the new administration,” Andromeda tendered. “Not that Fudge or Scrimgeour would have been much better.”
“Dear Cornelius is still alive, so I doubt they’ll immortalize him just yet…” Remus began.
“…waiting for him to die a glorious death,” Tonks sniggered irreverently.
“Now, Dora,” her mother scolded. “That’s really unfair. Likely none of us will forget how Fudge’s determined avoidance of the truth just gave evil a chance to grow unchecked.”
“Infamous Wizard Cards!” Tonks proclaimed. “A whole new line!”
“Remind me not to recommend you to their marketing department,” Remus noted sardonically.
“Are you implying I should start a new career after the baby is born?” Tonks posed.
Remus deftly side-stepped the unspoken challenge in her tone. “Quite the contrary, pet. If we manage to sort out the world once again, there’s going to be an unprecedented demand for dark wizard catchers. Rounding up the scoundrels, liars, and questionable collaborators is going to take years!”
“Speaking of which, have you been able to find another safe locale for the next Potterwatch transmission?” Andromeda encouraged.
Remus sighed as he ran fingers through his hair. “I think so. Kingsley’s working out the details.”
“Here,” Tonks Levitated the last of her chocolate frog in his direction. “You need to keep your energy levels up just as much as you’re always telling me to do.”
Remus stretched out on the nearby settee to savor his prize. “Certainly seems like this new photo is particularly lifelike,” he offered without elaboration.
“Any idea why Dumbledore would insist on updating his card?” Tonks mused. “Simple vanity?”
“Why did Dumbledore do anything?” Remus issued in a rhetorical manner. “Perhaps it was the chocolate frog company who decided to immortalize him.”
“Where did they come by the photo then?”
Remus shrugged. “Minerva complained that Dumbledore spent a lot of time away from Hogwarts during that last year. He would’ve had ample opportunity.”
From his otherworldly perch, Dumbledore chuckled soundlessly at their conversation. If only they knew, but he suspected that sharing such a secret across metaphysical boundaries might just stretch his tenuous link to the breaking point. Fact was the Chocolate Card Project was just one of the many irons he’d left in the fire at the time of his death. A bit of inspiration that had blossomed unexpectedly “ all because he’d taken a notion to update the outdated image in circulation. An arcane spell half remembered from a crumbling parchment had provided the rest.
“Seems rather sad to be reminded of all that we’ve lost,” Tonks grumbled.
“Or we could be inspired by his greatness,” Remus countered.
With sudden inspiration, Andromeda interjected, “Why not commemorate some of the other fallen heroes? Like the Prewett brothers who were cut down in the first war?”
“Or Mad-Eye?” Tonks supplied with fervor.
As if walking on eggshells, Remus tendered, “Consider the political climate, ladies. Depending upon your side of the fence, these same persons can be considered valiant warriors or unlawful dissidents.” He patiently held up his hand to forestall their objections. “A business who doesn’t want to be summarily shut down by the current administration would be wise to stay as neutral as possible.”
“So you’re saying Dumbledore is a safe bet,” Andromeda echoed.
“The safest!” Remus emphasized. “Even the Chief Death Eater grudgingly respected Dumbledore’s magical prowess.”
A circumstance which Dumbledore himself had anticipated might be used to his own advantage. If Remus came to the same conclusion, he didn’t share it with the others. So far, he’d given no indication that anyone else knew of the hushed conversation the two of them had shared and Dumbledore respected the man’s privacy. It was just one more sign that Remus had put that bout of despondency behind him “ something which pleased the aged wizard immensely.
Tonks’ eyes crinkled with amusement as she noticed the various colors decorating her husband’s oldest, most threadbare trousers.
“Did you finish painting the baby’s room yet? I really wish you’d let me help.”
“Oh no, Dora,” Andromeda chided as she brushed an errant strand from her own brow. “You’re doing quite enough just carrying the baby around.”
“You don’t trust me with the painting spell,” Tonks pouted.
“Quite the contrary,” Remus affirmed as he pressed a quick kiss to her head. “I’m certain you could’ve created a whole spectrum of color, but we were hoping for a more conservative décor.”
“Oh. What single color did you decide upon?”
“Sherbet lemon,” her husband replied as he pointed out the handy swatch right above his left knee.
“What about the pistachio?” she inquired as she signaled out a slightly higher stain.
“Looked too much like the waiting room at St. Mungo’s,” he affirmed.
“The stormy blue?” Tonks pressed as she couldn’t find a corresponding splatter.
“Andromeda applied that in our room. Very restful amid the silver and navy bedding, but too much like a rainy sky for a child’s room.”
“Come, dear,” Andromeda’s voice rang from the far side of the hallway. “You can help us arrange the crib Remus unearthed in the rear of the attic.”
Tonks rolled her eyes dramatically. “Don’t you ever throw anything out, Mum?”
“And where would you be if I had?” Andromeda called. “Conjuring cutting edge design out of thin air?”
“I’d use an Engorgio charm on one of those oyster shells edging the flowerbeds,” Tonks volleyed back. “That would make for a much roomier bassinet than the nutshell the fairies used in my storybook.”
Andromeda shook her head in defeat as Tonks awkwardly heaved her belly into the next room.
“What do you think?” Remus beamed.
Tonks was transfixed as she ran her fingers lovingly over the row of chocolate frog cards fashioned into a decorative wall border around the built in toy shelves. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. Like I’m inside a hollowed out lemon, fresh and exhilarating.”
“This is such an unusual crib design,” he commented, gazing upon the circular shape that fit perfectly into the alcove once occupied by Tonks’ twin headboard.
“Ted and I found it in a second-hand store when we were first married,” Andromeda supplied as she caressed the curved white balustrade. “We didn’t have much room in our flat, either, but this design fit in the hallway right outside our bedroom.”
Shuffling through the hamper of pastel baby linens, Tonks raved, “Look, Mum, it’s my flying horse mobile!”
Andromeda graced her daughter with a nostalgic smile. “Your little eyes used to follow them until you drooped from sleepiness.”
Remus helped his wife untangle the silken cords and held the support steady as she fastened it to the crib’s banister with a practiced twist of her wand. “There, that should hold it,” she proclaimed with satisfaction.
“Looks like it’s a little worse for wear,” Remus noted as he wiggled two fingers through an empty rope harness.
Tonks slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t be silly, Remus! That’s the thestral. Where did you learn about magical creatures?” She pointed out the two tiny Granians with their silvery manes and tails, the robust blonde Abraxian renowned for its unquenchable thirst for single-malt whiskey. Two regal hippogriffs followed, one bluish roan like Buckbeak and another a peachy mahogany roan, with their tiny stitched front claws and shiny beaks. The chestnut Aethorian stallion was next, its ginger mane the exact shade popularized by the Weasley family. And the invisible one was, without a shadow of a doubt, the thestral. “Who would expect a baby to be able to see thestrals? Now tell me that, Remus!”
“How short-sighted of me, sweetheart,” Remus demurred, counting seven total to guarantee good fortune for the child. “Must have slept through that lesson from the redoubtable Professor Grubbly-Plank.”
With a wry grin, Andromeda admitted in a bare whisper, “I think the shop owner was of the same mind as you, Remus. He kept trying to sell us a mobile with pastel fairies instead, while this one languished unclaimed in a corner. But Ted was so convinced the baby was going to be a boy that he wouldn’t budge. Finally, the owner sold him the ‘defective’ model at a discounted price and we laughed all the way home about how he’d forgotten the lesson of the poor, maligned thestral.”
On a grey February afternoon, Bill penetrated the Fidelius bubble with the hastily mumbled instructions he’d been issued in case of emergencies. He was clearly flustered as the slam of the back door rattled the entire framework of the house. Despite the adhesive, the chocolate frog cards trembled against the bedroom wall in tandem.
“What is it?” Andromeda inquired as the clang of the teakettle against the stove betrayed her apprehension.
“Things are changing in disturbing ways again,” Bill offered so lowly that Dumbledore had to strain to hear from his opening into the nursery.
“At Gringotts?” Remus surmised, his tone unnaturally gruff.
“Plans to put Ministry guards at the outer doors,” Bill confided. “Goblins are up in arms at the implied insult.”
“What about the inner door?” Tonks posed. “Will the goblin guards there remain?”
“Yes, but they’re being made to seem ceremonial,” Bill confirmed. “A quaint colloquialism, at most.”
Remus’ voice was full of ice as he postulated, “The long arm of the Muggleborn Registration Committee. First they confiscate wands, now they wish to restrict access to bank accounts.”
Bill’s response was even more chilling, “Rather like a castle siege, I would say. Do they really think that forcing wizards to be destitute is any more merciful than killing them outright?”
“What’s to keep them from restricting goblins’ rights next?” Tonks decried.
“That’s certainly what the grumblings at Gringotts seem to suggest,” Bill concurred.
“How can the Ministry refuse people access to their galleons?” Andromeda cried. “Has the Minister nationalized all private holdings behind our backs?”
“Not until they can devise a way to draft laws that will apply to one segment of the population and not to another,” Remus growled lowly.
“In the meanwhile, the worthy will be determined by the Ministry guards at the door,” Bill summarized grimly. “But it hasn’t happened yet, I’m just here to give you advance warning.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Remus promised in a hurried whisper. “I’ll go today and withdraw the last of our funds. What about you, Andromeda?”
But before Andromeda could react, Bill interjected, “No need. Look in the bottom of the basket. Under the brioche loaf and herb bouquet from Fleur.”
The heavy clank of metal against the tabletop reverberated up the stairs.
“I see you put the emergency power of attorney to good use!” Andromeda issued with a nervous laugh.
“This can’t be right,” Remus protested in an awed voice. “Even converting everything into knuts…”
“The Ministry finally released the funds Mad-Eye left to Tonks,” Bill attested. “Ran out of excuses to block it with sensationalized lawsuits and the like.”
“Why now?” Tonks prodded with undisguised suspicion. It was easy for Dumbledore to imagine her poking the sack with her wand as if it might turn into a vicious serpent.
Instead it was Remus who replied, “Why not? That absolves them of complicity as it shifts the burden to the new generation of Gringotts’ guardians.”
A sharp intake of breath followed.
Taking up the reins once more, Bill reiterated, “I’m afraid Remus is quite on the mark. What they didn’t anticipate was that the document would come across my desk. I simply handed it to the goblin in charge of Moody’s vault together with the power of attorney form.”
“The galleons never reached the Lupin vault then.” Remus issued a hollow laugh.
“Personal delivery to the heiress herself,” Bill added with amusement coloring his voice. “As to the power of attorney documents themselves, I think we should burn them “ but I wanted to confer with you first.”
“But they might come in handy in the future,” Andromeda postulated.
“The vault is empty. You’d be fools to deposit anything else. Was there something else of value which I overlooked?” Bill urged.
“You don’t want there to be a paper trail. At least not one that leads to you,” Remus surmised solemnly.
“For the time being,” Bill agreed. “Eventually… Well, eventually, it may be necessary to abandon my post. Go into hiding myself.”
“What about the Tonks’ account?” Andromeda inquired. “Can I withdraw those funds as well?”
“Might be too suspicious at the moment,” Bill warned. “Let them think that a bureaucratic mix-up delayed the transfer of Moody’s funds. In the meanwhile, I will change the name on your account to read Andromeda Black, if that’s all right with you.”
“You think it’s necessary? My marriage to Ted was hardly a secret,” Andromeda provided.
“It will give the illusion that you’re rethinking your position,” Bill proposed. “Enough that the Ministry goons won’t dare to question a pureblood from a venerable wizarding family.”
“He’s right, Mum,” Tonks opined. “As distasteful as it may seem, our only weapon is to use their prejudices against them.”
“No one’s about to question your ideology if you put on a haughty air like Narcissa,” Remus affirmed.
“The less you speak with anyone the better,” Bill maintained.
Still unconvinced, Andromeda stammered, “What will Ted think? What if he needs to visit Gringotts himself? Won’t I be cutting off his lifeline?”
“Mum,” Tonks whispered, “Dad’s a fugitive. He can’t go into any Gringotts branch, not even in far-flung Siberia “ if such a thing existed!”
The sound of a loud sob was followed by a string of wet reassurances. It was clear Andromeda and Tonks were comforting one another as best they could.
“Remus, a word,” Bill issued tersely.
For a moment, Dumbledore feared they would retreat outdoors where their conversation might be out of range, but Remus suggested, “It’s freezing outside, the drawing room might be better.” Under his breath, he added, “There’s a bottle of Firewhiskey in the cabinet.”
Unperturbed by the electric tingle of the Imperturbable Charm, Dumbledore listened in.
There was the scratching noise of the poker against the brick fireplace and then Bill proposed, “Can I just burn the document here?”
“Be my guest,” Remus replied. “You’ve gone out of your way to help us enough as it is. I don’t want you prosecuted for your actions.”
Bill issued a bitter laugh. “The least of my sins, I assure you. The Weasleys are blood traitors extraordinaire. Dad’s just not certain when the new order will be train their spotlight on us. We’re all prepared to drop things at a moment’s notice.”
Remus sighed in resignation. “Have they run out of Muggleborns to harass already?”
“Soon enough.” The clink of glasses indicated that they had fortified themselves with whiskey. “In a way that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. How long has Ted been on the run?”
“Since the Prophet published his name among the Muggleborns wanted for questioning. He left the following week even though Andromeda tried to convince him that once we set the Fidelius Charm, it would protect all of us.”
“But Ted didn’t agree.”
“Argued that we’d be better served if we could claim no knowledge of his whereabouts should officials come calling.”
“How could they come calling if you set the Fidelius?” Bill pointed out.
“That was my position also, but he wouldn’t budge. Said the redundancy was necessary in such desperate times.”
“I’m not sure I could work up a counter-argument to that one,” Bill conceded darkly.
“Same here…So you have a lead on Ted?” Remus breathed.
“Maybe.”
“Something tells me it’s not good news, though.”
“Another sign of the times, I’m afraid. But I don’t want to jump to any foregone conclusions, either. I overheard some goblins talking and was trying to make sense of their unique perspective.”
“The same group that Ted was with earlier?”
“I think so, but he could just have easily parted company with them in the interim.”
“True. How can you authenticate a second- or third-hand tale?” Remus considered.
“There was a dog involved,” Bill volunteered. “Didn’t yours recently run away?”
“Ted’s dog, yes. He was the one who grew the most attached to it after Tonks went off to school. But the poor animal was definitely getting on in years.”
“Anything you can tell me would help,” Bill prompted. “The smallest thing might turn out to be significant.”
“Just bear in mind that this was the version I heard from Andromeda,” Remus cautioned. “Are you sure you don’t want to speak with her directly?”
“I’ve already upset her enough as it is,” Bill admitted in a hollow tone. “Indulge me, please.”
With a grim sigh, Remus began a third person rendition that conveyed just how much he wanted to emotionally detach himself.
It had been Ted’s idea to get a dog. Mostly in response to his daughter’s pleas that she wanted to play with Cousin Sirius’ oversized, black mongrel.
While at eight years old, Dora was familiar enough with the wizarding world to be informed that her favorite cousin was an Animagus, somehow her parents had never done so. Perhaps because Sirius was a renegade Animagus, one who had never been registered with the Ministry of Magic as was required by law. Perhaps they considered that young Dora was just guileless enough to share this secret with the wrong person. Alas, they had long ago accepted the futility of cajoling Sirius to legally document the shape of his alter ego.
Then the unforeseeable happened and Sirius betrayed his best friends, killing another schoolmate in the aftermath. Andromeda was speechless at the depth of his duplicity and never questioned why her once-favorite cousin was sent to Azkaban without a trial.
All she could think about was how wrong she’d been to suppose that Sirius had been fundamentally different than the rest of their family. Had her own judgment been clouded by the Sorting Hat’s decision to place Sirius in Gryffindor House instead of Slytherin with the rest of the Blacks? She could only conclude that her cousin had been ruthless enough to confuse the Sorting Hat as well “ though how such ancient magic could be circumvented, she had no idea.
It had been impossible to shield young Dora from this ugly truth, though. News was plastered everywhere which detailed the quick actions of the Department of Magical Catastrophes headed by none other than Cornelius Fudge.
With woeful eyes, Dora had asked who was to care for Sirius’ dog now that his master had been sent to Azkaban? Prisons didn’t have kennels, she argued with childish tenacity. It was clear from her intonation that she considered it her familial duty to adopt poor, bereft Snuffles. How could they tell her that Snuffles was in the same dank cell?
Would she even believe them if they explained about Animagi without seeing an actual demonstration before her eyes? Knowing how relentless their daughter could be, Ted and Andromeda decided that it was best to tell her that other arrangements had been made for the dog. Dora had accepted their excuses grudgingly, somehow recognizing that seeing Snuffles on a daily basis would just be a sad reminder of her cousin’s unfortunate fate.
Ted’s solution had been to simply get Dora a dog of her own. All children needed pets as his Muggle mother had insisted. Andromeda’s pleas that they would be left to care for the dog once Dora attended Hogwarts didn’t matter to Ted.
“So the dog will be our pet as well,” he insisted. “Playing with it will help to ease the emptiness of Dora’s departure.”
It was at that point that Andromeda’s inexperience with animals of any sort came to the fore. Her mother had considered pets to be a waste of time and resources, banning them from the Black residence entirely. They were unclean, unappreciative, and constantly underfoot. The thought of lavishing love on a lesser creature was something that never would’ve occurred to Druella Rosier Black. Far better to spend those galleons on a ball gown or a fancy necklace that might attract a worthy suitor. Her goals for her three beautiful daughters were uniquely single-minded.
Feeling like a washed out version of her two older sisters who shared the same raven hair, Narcissa had made a valiant plea for a cat when she was old enough to attend Hogwarts. Cats were permissible according to her letter, Cissy assured her mother. She would not be abandoning her pet to someone else’s care during the ten or so months that she was away at school. And a black cat would be instantly recognizable as befitting their family, she’d added artfully.
But their mother had not budged. In the end, her sole concession had been to buy Cissy a black cashmere twin set with a fur collar instead of the obligatory pearls her two sisters received.
Remus found himself engrossed in his mother-in-law’s characterization of the three Black sisters and how they interacted with one another. Unable to resist, he’d delved, “Do you suppose that Bellatrix’s penchant for torture might have had something to do with your mother’s decision?”
Andromeda had turned eyes soft with understanding in his direction. “Bella wasn’t always like that you know. But she was competitive, obsessively so. Her cruel streak didn’t surface until much later “ as a product of her unsuccessful attempts at motherhood, I’ve always thought.”
“I can’t imagine Aunt Bella submitting a child to her dominatrix ways,” Tonks protested with a shudder.
“It was a misplaced wish to be sure,” her mother agreed. “She would’ve just farmed the childcare duties to a house-elf or servant.”
“She just couldn’t bear that her sisters had something she didn’t,” Remus surmised with sudden clarity.
“She was always the first at everything,” Andromeda echoed. “And this time she couldn’t even place last. Despite her arrogant façade, it was something that affected her deeply. A failing for which she could never forgive herself.”
“Rather like a bully who lashes out due to his own insecurity,” Tonks tendered. “Aunt Bella just happened to be handy with her wand instead of her fists.”
Returning to the main subject, Andromeda explained how Ted took it upon himself to surprise Dora for her ninth birthday with a Scottish terrier puppy. A seriously black female that he insisted should be named after a heavenly body in the family tradition. After much pouring over the star charts, Dora settled on Cassiopeia and they shortened it to ‘Cassie’ for everyday use.
“Did you tell Dad the story about Aunt Cissy ahead of time?” Tonks pressed.
“No, it was just the sort of stupidly romantic gesture Ted liked to make,” Andromeda allowed with a hitch in her voice. “Cassie became his walking companion every morning and afternoon.”
“That’s really all I know,” Remus allowed as his recount cycled to a close. “Ted was extremely attached to that little dog. Fairly broke his heart when he found her gone from the yard one morning, even though she was clearly nearing the end of her lifespan.”
Bill’s sudden discomfort caused the chair to protest loudly. “This is going to be so much harder than I thought,” he admitted. He stretched out his legs before him, revealing a bent chocolate frog card between the seat cushion and the upholstered arm of the chair.
“Sorry about that,” Remus muttered as he plucked the card from his guest’s fingers. “Pregnant women seem to leave a trail of chocolate behind them.”
Finally afforded a view of the sitting room, Dumbledore blinked into the subdued contours from the tightly drawn blinds. In the flickering firelight, the scars on Bill’s face stood out starkly white. Coupled with his furrowed brow, the younger man’s face seemed as if it was weighed down by ceaseless worry.
Remus leaned back on the sofa and raked his fingers through his fringe. The uneven edges betrayed his mother-in-law’s attempts at trimming the unruly mass, but at least it no longer fell into his eyes.
“If it will make you feel any better, I’m the cause the poor dog ran away in the first place,” Remus proffered morosely. “As if Tonks and me moving in didn’t disrupt the household enough.”
Caught off-guard, Bill uttered, “You…how?”
“Spooked the poor thing, I suppose. Should’ve waited a few extra days after my transformation, perhaps. But we were so anxious to vacate the London flat before we incurred another month’s rent.”
With the bond of their shared tribulations, Bill ventured, “I thought werewolves didn’t pose a threat to other animals.”
“They don’t. But sometimes other animals are wary, especially smaller ones. If only I’d had a few days to make friends with her, Cassie would’ve accepted me as just another member of the family. My father’s hounds always did when I was growing up. It wasn’t unusual to find one or two curled up by my bed when I recovered from my monthly ordeal.”
With an audible intake of air, Bill began anew, “You see, I overheard something at work. Goblins talking about some of their own. But there were also wizards among their party, most notably a man with a small Scottie dog.”
“And you think it might be Ted?”
“It’s possible. Nobody mentioned the name of the dog, though.”
“Any human names?”
“Only Dirk Cresswell, but he was well-known among the goblin community.”
“I should say so!” Remus exclaimed. “Isn’t he in charge of the Goblin Liaison Office?”
“Used to be. Now he’s just another Muggleborn on the run,” Bill confirmed. “We’d just been talking about him, too. How none of this utter bollocks with the Ministry guards would’ve ever come to pass under his watch.”
“Scottish terriers aren’t exactly rare. What makes you so certain it’s Ted?”
“That’s precisely why I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others,” Bill emphasized lowly.
Pouring them both generous portions of Firewhiskey, Remus prodded, “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
With a somber nod, Bill took up the narrative once more. “Gornuk and Griphook, both goblins, had been on the run since fall. Griphook used to work at Gringotts so everyone was anxious for the latest news about him. As best I could tell, they had formed a little band with three other wizards: Dirk, the man with the dog, and a dark-skinned lad.”
“Another Muggleborn?”
“Or an escapee from Hogwarts “ I hesitate to use the word ‘truant’ under these circumstances.”
“Point taken.”
“The goblins discussed the merits of having a dog as a companion at great length,” Bill elaborated. “The general consensus of their kind is that pets are a decadent affectation of wizards, part of our unconscious desire to subjugate lesser beasts.”
“I hardly think a dog sees it that way,” Remus observed. “It’s a symbiotic relationship; a partnership, if you will.”
“So concluded this group as the terrier was well trained to issue only a low growl to warn of strangers, obeying its master’s command to keep quiet when its muzzle was tapped.” Leaning over to take a deep swallow of whiskey served to accent the cavities of Bill’s eyes. “On a snowy night, they were set upon by Snatchers. Word of Dirk’s escape en route to Azkaban had spread and the price on his head had escalated accordingly. The other wizards had wands so the group was able to hold off the attackers long enough to allow the lad and the goblins to escape down the embankment.”
Remus hardly dared to breathe, “What about the ones left behind?”
“From the next rise, the goblins caught a glimpse of the small clearing where they had been set upon. Errant spellfire had caught the surrounding trees alight, creating an inferno against the winter landscape. A number of dark shapes surrounded Dirk while the other wizard and his valiant dog cut down more than their fair share. But in the end, they were no match for an organized gang of Snatchers. The survivors turned away as green streams of the Killing Curse were shot at the three defenders from all sides.”
In the absolute stillness, Remus finally found his voice. “It would’ve been just like Ted to defend others to the bitter end.”
“Word was the Snatchers were unable to disarm him while he was still alive,” Bill added through papery lips.
“And those who got away?”
“They sought help for Gornuk who had been wounded in the side. Managed to make it to a regular goblin settlement where he died after retelling the tale to trusted friends.”
“Other goblins, I take it.”
“Yes. Griphook and the lad didn’t linger, not wanting to draw the Snatchers to those who had offered them kindness. Chances are they haven’t learned of Gornuk’s demise.”
“Thanks for sharing this with me,” Remus offered numbly as Bill indicated he really should get back to Shell Cottage before Fleur began to worry needlessly.
“Sure you won’t stay for a snack?” Andromeda urged from the stove. “The salty sea air gives the herbs from your garden the most delightful piquant flavor. Just see what it does to my parsnip and squash soup.”
With leaden eyes, Bill murmured his goodbyes and eased himself slowly out the door.
Remus stared into his teacup, watching the steam rise in slow circles. Unsure of how to begin, he opted to remain silent.
“Did Bill give you some bad news, sweetheart?” Tonks ventured as her cool hand soothed his scarred fingers.
Remus bit back the sting of tears as he cleared his throat hesitantly. “Seems that Ted and Cassie were reunited in the end….”