Disclaimer: Thanks to J.K. Rowling for allowing me to take her characters for a lengthy stroll through my imagination.
Fifteen
In with the New
The halls echoed with longing as she made the long traverse towards her office. The students would return from their Yuletide break soon, drifting in like a rising tide until all of Hogwarts was engulfed in their presence for the fledgling year.
In the meanwhile, Tonks could hear the ringing laughter rising from the stairwell as Remus tried to teach the children how to turn the long gabled passageway into a Muggle bowling alley, the absurdity of the notion originating with Dumbledore’s ironic assertion on his Chocolate Frog card. It was amazing that a few months shy of his sixth birthday, Teddy was already learning to read written words on his own, so eager to match his father’s reverence for books. How he hungered for the trivial facts that accompanied his vibrant picture books. The more arcane, the better; somehow Teddy always found a way to integrate the new knowledge into his life.
Which is where he had taken a notion to learn ten-pin bowling. Being nothing but an ebullient child at heart himself, Remus promised he knew the perfect spot. What did it matter that snow had drifted past the open archways? A simple spell Vanished it just as easily as the summer sun; a warming charm on the worn stones kept any more from accumulating. Originally designed to sluice excess rainwater, the ancient channels lining both sides of the hallway were ideally suited to capture errant gutter balls.
Amid an intermittent curtain of half-hearted snow, Hagrid had distinguished the sounds of life returning to the somnolent castle. The sconces in the long corridor created a welcoming row of orange marzipans to lure him and Fang from their sleepy cottage. His booming voice was easy to distinguish from the children’s and even Remus’ more mellow tones. Fang’s barking had died down to an occasional yelp when he got too close to the bowling ball. Not that he hadn’t quickly learned to seek sanctuary on one of the broad stone stairways that funneled into the colonnade. A perfect perch from which to enjoy the antics of his humans without becoming an unwitting target.
Other than the Headmistresses who were bogged down by the inescapable tower of paperwork that accompanied the start of a new term, there was not much activity in the castle today. The better to reorganize her office while she had ample time to enjoy the task instead of just rushing through it, Tonks concluded. The new photos were sure to spark conversation among her students, but she certainly had no qualms about discussing her children. Most of them knew Phoebe and Teddy by name as they were often about during school hours in the care of one or another faculty member. Some students even included the children in their activities so it was not unusual for Teddy to be found in the midst of Muggleborns reviving a bit of football or cricket in an unused courtyard or Phoebe fashioning daisy chains in the meadow with a gaggle of first years.
With that in mind, Tonks contemplated just what she would say to students who inquired about how resplendent Phoebe looked in the lilac gown from Harry’s wedding. Flanked on either side by Hermione and Luna dressed in the dusty violet shades of the encroaching dusk, she was captured smiling at each of them in turn as they sought to entertain her. Waiting for Fleur and Molly to put the final touches on Ginny’s hair and gown had made them all impatient; but Hermione did her best to hide her furtive looks from Phoebe who was enthralled by the story Luna was weaving for her, the excitement of the wedding all but forgotten momentarily.
“Tell me a story about two princesses,” Phoebe had demanded in deference to their clothing for the day. She’d long ago become bored with the ramblings of Beetle the Bard.
“How about the one about the two roses growing side by side along the fence line?” Hermione posed tentatively.
Phoebe gave her a doubtful look. “Roses, like in the garden?” she questioned with more than a hint of displeasure.
“It’s an allegory,” Hermione corrected her, knowing the term would surely not register in the child’s mind. But she’d never seen Remus talk down to his children in any way, and if they could cope with his elegant wording, she was not about to insult them. “One princess was fair of hair, like Luna here, and the other had dark hair. Thus the white rose and the red rose…”
Phoebe had listened to the story, captivated as she fingered the end of Hermione’s brown ringlet ever so carefully as to not mar its beauty. But all too soon, the story ended and Hermione was looking helplessly for assistance from Luna.
“Much to my surprise,” Luna began serenely, addressing her words more to Hermione than to Phoebe, “my mother had an ancient tome of Muggle fairy tales in her extensive library. Mother was so outwardly disorganized it was not unusual to find treasures tucked away in the most unlikely places. Father always saw it as an endearing quality, claiming that a woman whose analytical mind was always categorizing so much knowledge couldn’t spare a moment for the mundane chores in life. He was always straightening up in her wake, gasping with delight when he came across an unexpected surprise amid the chaos.
“Mother was quite startled when she found me trying to sound out the words in the first story, a rather realistic detailing of Little Red Riding Hood. She gently removed the book from my fingers and reminded me that some books were meant for sharing, for reading aloud to one another. So she cuddled next to me on the window seat and proceeded to read the tale to me in her own words. She explained that this was a very old book, maybe even one of the first editions, written in a time when fairy tales were considered to be cautionary stories for the local peasants. Some of the animals like the ferocious wolves had indeed existed in the nearby forests. Although they were unlikely to speak in a language people could understand, they were greatly intelligent beasts that could easily outsmart the unwary. So the story portrayed that in words and dialogue to make it easier for simple folk to understand.”
“That’s an allegory,” Hermione repeated gently, watching Phoebe turn the new word over in her mind as she mouthed it.
“Like a lesson from your Mum so you won’t get hurt?” Phoebe ventured.
“Precisely,” Hermione praised her. “Your father would be very pleased you caught on so easily.”
“Is there more to the story?” Phoebe beseeched Luna directly while cuddling the familiar stuffed rabbit in her lap.
“It became a welcome ritual every other afternoon,” Luna continued in a nostalgic fashion. “We would sit in the window seat, with warm cocoa if it was cold beyond the windowpanes, and she would retell me the stories in the book. Always the tales were embellished in her own words, using the printed version as a guide to remind her of the plot. When I learned to read enough to notice this, she reminded me that the tales had been penned by the Brothers Grimm.
“ ‘Were they named after the fearsome black dog?’ I ventured timidly.
“ ‘Quite the opposite,’ Mother replied. ‘The omen of death, the Grim, derives his name from these very tales. So full of dark tidings some of these warnings were.’
“I gulped noticeably, my eyes wide with fear.” Luna demonstrated only to elicit giggles from Phoebe.
“The word ‘grim’ also derives from those imaginative brothers,” Hermione supplied.
“What does it mean?” Phoebe posed. “Grim?”
“Dark and foreboding like a rainstorm you know is coming,” Hermione provided.
“Serious and unsmiling,” Luna added. “Just like the poor existence people lived in those times. Thatched roofs and dirt floors didn’t do much to keep out the winter’s chill. Not even the beds were warm, the mattresses stuffed with scratchy goose feathers that often poked through the covering.”
“Did your mother share all of the tales with you, Luna?” Hermione asked as she got swept into the story as well.
“Every last one,” Luna attested. “Although I suspect she paraphrased quite a bit. Adding euphemisms beyond just the standard ‘and they lived happily ever after.’”
Considering how many marriages fell apart due to divorce or infidelity, it was an utterly simplistic ending. Not that Hermione was about to share that thought with a three year old. “Such as?” she prodded Luna.
Choosing her words carefully, Luna extrapolated, “Well, if there was a lot of… devastation… she would just say: ‘and everyone saw thestrals.’”
“Everyone saw thestrals,” Hermione echoed. “What lovely phrasing, so simple and yet so eloquent.”
“That was Mother, without a doubt,” Luna admitted. “It became one of my favorite sayings and, of course, thestrals became one of my favorite animals. Father finally had to draw one for me from memory as no picture book showed them. They consider them too grim.”
Having heard from Harry how Luna’s mother had died of a spell gone awry, Hermione was not sure she should urge Luna to continue.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Luna offered in a dreamy tone that couldn’t possibly alarm Phoebe. “For years, I was the only one in my year at school who could see them.”
Phoebe’s eyes danced happily as she tried to imitate the fluttering fingers which had accompanied Luna’s words. “What’s a testral?” she posed innocently.
“Thestral,” Hermione corrected gently, hoping to give herself time to think. How stupid of her to not have anticipated such a question.
Unfazed, Luna replied honestly, “It’s rather like a winged horse, actually. But very skinny. If it turned sideways, it could slip through the cracks in your windows and doors.”
“As black as the night,” Hermione added. “But very shiny so they stand out in the moonlight.”
“But sad, too?” Phoebe inquired with unfailing intuitiveness.
“Yes, sweetheart, they transport our spirits into the heavens when we can no longer live among our fellows,” Luna allowed.
Phoebe’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Like a dark angel?”
Hermione sighed with relief that Phoebe’s curiosity overcame her childhood phobias. Obviously influenced by both her parents. “Yes, Phoebe, exactly like a dark angel.”
Tonks had been floored later as Phoebe confided she knew a number of dark angels. Shaken to the very core, Tonks returned as evenly as possible, “The four footed kind? Or should I say four hoofed?”
Phoebe shook her head vigorously. “People.”
“Which people?”
“The men who danced at Harry’s wedding,” Phoebe presented with unfailing logic.
Tonks laughed with obvious relief. “Only because formal wear for men practically dictates they wear black.”
“Not just that,” Phoebe insisted. “Freddy moves like an angel.”
“Of course he does, dear. Freddy dances with the ballet. Remember when we went to London, just us girls, to see him perform. It’s his job to move gracefully.”
“Not just him. The other.”
“Can you give me a name? Harry, Ron, Bill?” Merlin, every single man except Mad-Eye had been dressed in black that night and that was only because Moody had worn a formal kilt and evening jacket instead.
Phoebe scrunched up her face in concentration. “The teacher. Always wears black in the halls.”
“Do you mean Professor Snape?” Tonks felt as if she was grabbing at straws. “Always looks like he smells something foul?”
Phoebe giggled. “Grim,” she supplied with aplomb. “Smiles when he dances.”
“He does indeed. Professor Snape is a very accomplished dancer. You remember how everyone wanted to have a dance after he displayed his skill.”
Phoebe smiled gaily at the memory. “You danced with the Dark Angel.”
“Yes, I did. I danced with both of them,” Tonks affirmed with fond recollection.
She couldn’t help recalling how Freddy, too, had watched Severus parlay his skill on the dance floor.
“Don’t even think it,” she’d hissed in his ear. “Not even if everyone else is too intoxicated to notice.”
“Afraid of a little scandal?” Freddy teased back. “What’s a party without a few raised eyebrows?”
“Save those for the women’s necklines,” she’d warned. “That man will hex your eyebrows off and permanently relocate them to parts of your body where they will chafe incessantly!”
“Now you’re just trying to get me interested,” Freddy drawled dangerously as he allowed his chocolate eyes to rake ardently over Snape’s physique.
“I’ll hex you first,” she promised, allowing him to see that her dress had a long pocket for her wand along the seam. “Care to pit your jetés against my wand arm?”
Freddy had finally desisted, only to be totally caught off guard when it became clear the Snapes had indeed noticed his overt attention.
“Would you care for the next dance?” Rolanda offered huskily as Tonks made the necessary introductions. “The ballet? Really? If only I could get Severus to attend. He much prefers the opera…”
Tonks schooled her face into impassiveness as Freddy flashed her a private look over Rolanda’s shoulder.
“You danced rather well with him yourself,” Severus oozed suggestively into Tonks’ ear. “I’m surprised Lupin isn’t jealous of his skill.”
She barely suppressed the urge to retort that Remus’ skills lay in other areas, but reminded herself to not lose the round by letting Snape get under her skin. Instead, she responded with cool daring, “Care to see if you can measure up?”
With a flash in his obsidian eyes, Snape had bowed formally over her hand as he led her out onto the dance floor.
On this snowy January day, she suspected Snape was holed up in his favorite dungeon grading the last of the exams from the fall term, his lips pursed in dour disappointment. The pleasure would be all his when he trounced returning students with the dismal results on their first day back. How Snape thought such a demoralizing speech was motivating to his students, she would never know. Suffice it to say, he had been much the same when she had been a student, even though he had looked youthful enough to give rise to more than a few errant daydreams among the older female students. If only they had known of his self-imposed mourning for the tragic death of his young wife, she mused. Would Severus have set them detentions for their inappropriate sympathies? Not unless he wanted to give them the perfect opportunity to spend time alone with him, she smiled at the unexpected irony. More likely, the Hospital Wing would have been inundated with hexes to be reversed while the victims claimed emphatically they had been jinxed from behind and did not know the identity of their assailant.
Years later, only a handful of teachers knew the full truth; Snape had never been one to socialize readily among his peers. Although Rolanda served as a humanizing presence in his life, Tonks suspected he would have preferred to keep his second marriage just as much a secret from the staff as the students “ were it not for the impossibility amid such close proximity. Only with Dumbledore had he ever discussed subjects beyond his teaching duties, yet those had been of concerns such as Order business or the threat of Voldemort’s return, hardly the stuff of friendship.
To this day, Snape maintained a spartan office with few knickknacks to spark any conversation with students who might be brave enough to enter of their own accord. Not that his baleful glare wasn’t off-putting enough. As an adult, only her own stubbornness to no longer succumb to his studied theatrics had allowed her to stand up to him, earning her a bit of disdainful respect that allowed her to seek out him out on occasion. Even then, it was only for assistance with potions or some other academic subject, never for just a chat.
Remus’ tolerant nature had somehow worn down Snape’s resistance as they had grudgingly formed an uneasy truce in the days after Voldemort’s demise. She could only speculate that at some point they had each sought out an intellectual equal and found that, without Dumbledore, they would have to make do with one another.
Yet somehow, Remus had gotten through that somber façade, reviving the rivalry they had never truly outgrown from their school days. Only the verbal threat of hexes were thrown out these days, their barbed words serving as a game of poisoned darts which seemed to satisfy them both. Not that Minerva hadn’t warned them that such sparring was likely to be seen as uncivilized arguments in students’ eyes. But behind her glasses, her eyes had twinkled indulgently as she warned them to keep their debates private.
Tonks stared at the iridescent raven’s feather in her hand. The frisson of magic within was unmistakable, but she could discern no harmful hexes or jinxes involved. She had no idea of its origins; when she walked into her office that January morning, there it was in the center of her empty desk, practically winking at her.
At lunch, Remus confessed he, too, had been accorded a feather.
Minerva leaned in with an enigmatic smile. “I see you received an invitation to the next post-Quidditch party. It’s being hosted by Slytherin House.”
“Should I get my sheets laundered?” Tonks quipped in deference to the Roman theme Horace Slughorn had honed to perfection in prior years.
Minerva shook her head. “I think not.”
Filius Flitwick wormed his way into the conversation at this point. “Word was the Slytherin Prefects had the presence of mind to actually dye the toga fabric in deepest black before presenting it to Severus. No charm to change its color; it had to be indelible.”
“Hopefully, Severus awarded them House points for studied self-preservation,” Remus noted dryly.
“The way I heard it,” Professor Sinistra interjected, “Severus threw his head back and laughed in their faces.”
“That would have scared them more than anything else he could have done!” Tonks giggled.
Pomona Sprout took up the tale. “ ‘Not this time,’ he’d said. ‘I have something else in mind.’”
“So you think it’s harmless?” Reggie Smithwick posed, closing the thick tome of ancient runes he’d been studying.
“Blimey! I hope not,” Filius exclaimed as he brandished a feather of his own. “We could use a memorable event. Barely two weeks into the new term and the winter blues have already set in!”
Over and under they had flown like multihued beetles, the intensity of their House colors contrasting sharply against the austere frozen landscape. The wind howled over the spectators in the stands, whipping scarves into dancing pennants in support of their teams. Excitement was high as two well-matched teams fought for dominance.
Without warning, the wind died down after the first hour of play. Accusatory heads turned in Snape’s direction as his team was fifty points behind and desperately needed to capture the Snitch. His gaze was as inscrutable as ever as he sat straight and immobile, cocooned in black amid the riotous sea of color. Only the quick movements of his eyes belied the fact that he was not drowning in boredom.
A triumphant whoop from the Ravenclaw Seeker announced to the ants in the bleachers below that he had captured the Golden Snitch. With perfect control, he swooped down towards the middle of the pitch, holding his price aloft. His victory circuit around the cheering stands was eclipsed by a sudden shower of multicolored feathers exploding like fireworks from the very hands of the losing team. With curious precision, red rooster feathers rained upon Gryffindor House, royal blue jay feathers on Ravenclaw, and most glorious of all, golden pheasant quills upon the Hufflepuffs.
Anticipation for the evening’s event grew to a fever pitch as wild speculations were traded back and forth. The Slytherins remained stoically silent, small curlicues of smiles decorating otherwise impassive faces. As Head of Ravenclaw, tiny Professor Flitwick could be seen rounding up the members of his house and reminding them that a victory celebration was to be held in their common room until tea time. Rubbing his hands with glee, he reminded them that he, too, had received a feather for tonight’s gala.
At eight o’clock sharp, the Slytherin Prefects arrived outside each common room to retrieve their guests. Taking a different route through the castle, each lead their contingent in a solitary procession through a maze of dimly lit dungeon corridors until they arrived at various unmarked doors. Making up the rear of Gryffindor House, Remus was entranced by the theatricality of it all. Someone would definitely need to extend an emeritus invitation to Horace for the next event.
Catching her husband’s eye, Tonks extricated herself from where she was keeping Pomona company at the end of the Hufflepuff queue, allowing Enzo to take over as escort.
“What’s the consensus?” she breathed in Remus’ ear, the sparkly gel in her hair catching and reflecting the candlelight.
“That the Headmistress wouldn’t allow them to consign us all to Purgatory,” he returned sarcastically.
“Is that all?” She screwed up her face to show she had found his response particularly childish.
“You’re as bad as Teddy and Phoebe,” he chided her. “Can’t you wait and see how we’ll be surprised?”
“I overheard one of the students saying that the Chamber of Secrets is around here somewhere.”
“I heard that rumor also,” Remus dismissed. “Also about the great feathered basilisk that’s been tamed into submission with a giant blindfold.”
Tonks nodded eagerly as she licked her lips in delight.
“You’re all going to get yourselves so wound up that reality is going to come as a disappointment. I prefer to think of a blank slate “ black, of course “ and wait to be dazzled.”
The students were being admitted in small groups of three or four into what appeared to be an undecorated antechamber. To maintain the suspense, the door leading to the party itself was not visible or was very cleverly closed before the entrance of the next group.
After what seemed like hours, Remus and Tonks were allowed to join the last of the Gryffindors to complete a group of five. Once inside the anteroom, the small door leading to the corridor slammed shut with finality. As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, it was clear they were in a storeroom with discarded boxes and jars of all sizes stacked haphazardly against the walls. A large wooden crate, not unlike a Vanishing Cabinet, leaned precariously in one shadowy corner. Its interior displayed the bones of the last hapless fellow who sought its secrets.
Down a dark winding stair they were led “ well, actually prodded “ by the silent Slytherin guard holding a golden staff. Shuffling like prisoners in chains, they made their way forward until they reached an oasis of sorts at the foot of the stairs. In an amber pool of light sat a silent Grim, wordlessly placing each feather onto an oversized brass scale. As a counterweight, his winsome assistant used an oddly glowing stone, deep emerald at its core. If the feather was lighter than the stone, the guest was shown to the gilded door on the right. Inexplicably, some feathers seemed to be heavier than the rock which represented Salazar Slytherin’s heart, he heard on whispers of exotic wind. Those whose feathers sank were grabbed from behind and dragged off down a side passageway to the sounds of eerie chanting from the shadows themselves.
Remus suspected the area must be riddled with passageways and those who ‘failed’ the first test were simply being channeled into a separate entrance “ but the effect was quite harrowing in its own right.
“Have you ever had occasion to examine the Book of the Dead in the Antiquities Room of the British Museum?” Remus whispered after setting a wordless Muffliato Charm. As Tonks’ eyes grew wide in wonderment, he added, “That tableau before us is ‘the Weighing of the Heart.’ Those with heavy troubles are culled out.”
“Then they must likely face the riddle of the Sphinx in the next chamber,” she surmised. “I take it that’s not the Grim…”
“Anubis,” Remus clarified.
Much to his relief, Remus’ feather rose higher than the serpent’s heart which Slytherin’s handmaiden was petting in the most unsettling fashion. Tonks’ rose even higher and the emerald heart sank to the very bottom with a metallic clang. With a brief flash of magic, the feather was transformed into a gold serpent cuff. Tonks grabbed Remus’ arm anxiously as its metallic body wound itself around her forearm of its own accord. Although he had not witnessed it, Remus knew she was remembering Harry’s final confrontation with Voldemort’s treacherous serpent ring.
They emerged into a violet dusk in a land of undulating sand dunes, strange constellations remaking themselves periodically in the domed sky above. The brownish walls to either side of them ended in gigantic carved claws anchored to the misty floor. Craning his neck, Remus recognized they had emerged from between the front legs of the mighty Sphinx. Despite the solid wall he knew to be behind him, a trick of wizard’s space made it appear as if the landscape continued to the lion’s tail and beyond.
Bluebell frames in tall brass torchieres emitted light without heat as their otherworldly host rose regally from his golden throne at the far end of the cavernous room. A wide pectoral encrusted with green stones to denote resurrection was draped across his shoulders as it anchored shifting folds so black they seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Pointing a short scepter to his throat, the voice of Osiris rang out to the assemblage.
“Welcome to Abydos!” Snape intoned deeply. “Let the souls of the just be rewarded in the afterlife!”
Percy didn’t know how he’d managed it. Somehow it had turned out to be as effortless as talking to Ginny or Harry or even Remus. Just a few words around the water cooler about the antics of his family at Christmas and how he’d been called upon to do a lame impersonation of a Tokyo investor and Penelope was laughing like old times.
“Oh, Percy,” she finally managed. “Those stories make me feel like I’m a carefree girl again, back at school with no responsibilities weighing down on me. It almost seems a shame to go back to my dreary desk.”
He encountered her in the Atrium returning from lunch later and the conversation had taken off of its own volition. Before he had time to stop himself, he was inviting her to dinner at Ginny’s.
“It’s the first time she’s had guests over since she got married, so don’t be too hard on her,” he joked.
“But you said Professor Lupin, I mean Remus, would be there as well?” she inquired.
“Yes, he shares the house with Harry.”
“Harry Potter?” She’d been incredulous. “Why he’s practically a household name!”
“I’m not certain he’d relish that description in general, but there’s no denying it’s true in my family. Harry’s my brother-in-law. Married my sister, Ginny, just a few months ago. After a scandalously long engagement, I might add.”
“But Remus can’t be an in-law; you have nothing but brothers left,” she considered with an impish giggle.
Percy grinned at her predicament. “For lack of a better description, think of Remus as Harry’s godfather once removed -- although they have a unique dynamic of their own. James' and Lily's will left the estate to both of them. Remus has always been like family to us Weasleys, so it’s not as awkward a situation as you might think.”
“I can’t say I knew Harry much while we were at school,” Penny allowed. “He always seemed like he was somewhat lost on the sidelines. I suppose with his parents killed like that, he would have been looking for a family.”
“Then he’s more than made up for it. Remus’ small children live with them as well.”
“Remus got married? Not to someone from Ravenclaw?”
“A Hufflepuff, I believe.”
“Oh, there’s a whole contingent of girls from my House who are going to be sooo disappointed.”
“Even after all these years?” Percy was taken aback.
Penny lowered her lashes as she shrugged self-consciously. Then in the next heartbeat, she agreed to go.
Ginny was surprised to find Percy at her elbow when she excused herself to serve the dessert personally. Once beyond the kitchen door, she whispered, “We have it all planned out for after dinner. Harry will take the boys to play billiards upstairs, Tonks will divert Phoebe into her room for girl time and Remus promised me he had a stack of papers to mark in the library.”
“What about you?” Percy asked suspiciously.
“Did I not mention girl time with Tonks and Phoebe?” Noticing Percy was still shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, she breathed, “Everything’s been going fine; no one’s been stuck for conversation. What’s got your knickers in a proverbial knot?”
Percy straightened himself into Head Boy posture. “For one thing, I wear boxers. Knickers are for girls, like you or Tonks…or Phoebe,” he finished lamely, not liking where the conversation was heading.
“Anyone else you left out?” Ginny posed with a wicked smirk.
“Mum’s not here,” Percy shot back as his face colored despite his best efforts. “Look, Sis, I’m nervous enough as it is and earlier in the week Penny told me there were a lot of girls in her year who rather idolized Remus. In his professorial robes, that is.”
Or out of them? Ginny considered, but saw no reason to embarrass Percy even more. She remembered such a possibility had been quite a shock to her when she’d artlessly arrived at the tail end of Remus’ seventh year class at Hogwarts.
Avoiding the knots of students still congregating in the middle of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she had slipped into an empty seat near the perimeter. She always preferred a panoramic view as so much of the intriguing byplay between teacher and students was lost if she was having to face front or risk being accused of inattention. Naturally, the choicest seats were the first to be claimed; that’s why she had fairly trotted from her previous class “ even though it was just on the floor above.
Her attention was consumed with arranging her parchment, quills and making certain she had sufficient ink. Feeling the temperature in the room was a bit close, she shrugged out of her robes and draped them carefully over the back of her chair where they would not be trampled by inattentive clods.
By now, almost all the older students had drifted off to their next classes yet a small knot, all girls she noted, still hovered around Remus’ desk. With the room devoid of other noises, it was impossible not to overhear.
Remus smiled encouragingly at the circle of intent faces before him. “I’m sure all of you will do fine. Just remember to block out the extraneous noises as much as possible. Try to imagine you’re the only one in that cavernous hall and it’s much easier to relax.”
“But what about the extra questions they can throw at you during the practical?” the tall dark-haired one posed as she chewed her lip “ in a rather flirtatious manner, Ginny decided with a slight frown.
“Ah, yes,” Remus replied with that open earnestness of his. “It’s no secret those extra questions often mean the difference between a high E and an O.”
“But how can you prepare for something that may or may not come?” the light-haired girl on the end pressed.
Was he really that clueless? Ginny considered as her eyes were drawn magnetically to the tableau.
Remus leaned back in his chair a bit before responding, “Unfortunately, it’s somewhat like real life in that respect. You never know what obstacles are going to be thrown in your path and what obscure soupcon of knowledge is going to be required.”
“So you’re saying it’s impossible to prepare for the unexpected?” the first girl moaned.
“You’ve had seven years of preparation, Harriet,” the third girl interjected as she tried to draw her companions towards the door. She almost succeeded, too, but at the last minute Harriet whipped around with a hint of determination shining in her eyes.
Making the most of the few seconds in which Remus’ attention was diverted with reordering his desk, Harriet silently perched on the edge of the nearest chair, her features schooled into an overly innocent expression “ at least in Ginny’s estimation. When Remus remained oblivious, Harriet sighed ever so softly.
Remus looked up and immediately apologized for unwittingly ignoring her. “Was there anything else I could help you with?” Ginny could see his eyes dart towards the other two girls who were lingering with rather put upon expressions on their faces.
“If you’ll forgive me for being so bold.” Harriet began hesitantly. “Are you married, Professor?”
There was a fleeting moment of consternation in Remus’ face, but Ginny was certain Harriet had been too busy lowering her eyelashes coquettishly to notice.
“Need I remind you that the classroom is not the place for personal questions?” Remus returned evenly.
Undaunted, Harriet started to say, “But where--”
Despite his smile, Remus cut her off firmly, “Teachers do not make a habit of discussing such things with their students.”
Emboldened by Harriet’s actions, the blonde girl, Caroline, came to her defense. “Professor McGonagall has a photo of her sons and grandsons on her desk for everyone to see.”
“Professor McGonagall would deduct House points if she overheard this conversation,” the third, more sensible, girl asserted as she drew up. “And since she’s my Head of House, I would thank the two of you to stay off her radar.”
Remus pushed back from the desk as if to stand and then relented, “There are no photos on my desk or anywhere else in my office. Draw from that whatever inferences you will.” Catching Ginny’s eye, he didn’t give her a chance to be embarrassed about her blatant eavesdropping. “Ah, Miss Weasley, so glad you arrived a bit early today. I wanted to take a moment to go over your last assignment. If you’ll follow me into my office, please.”
With a polite nod in the direction of the trio of seventh years, Remus’ long legs took the short staircase two or three steps at a time. Studiously closing the door behind them, he practically collapsed in relief. Ginny giggled at the look of blind panic on Remus’ face as he leaned heavily against the door.
“I suppose I should offer you some House points for saving my last shred of dignity,” he breathed, only to make Ginny laugh outright.
“Except I’m already in violation of Mum’s strict laws about not letting on that you’re a friend of the family.”
“I don’t expect you to rat me out to Molly,” Remus warned with a grin.
“And catch myself in the net? Hardly!”
“They think they’re so worldly because they’re of age but they’re just overgrown children,” Remus acknowledged. “I finally understand how Rosmerta must have felt when Sirius tried to chat her up. He was so relentless, too; I’m surprised he didn’t get all the Marauders banned from the Three Broomsticks.”
“Sirius Black?” Ginny gasped. “The escaped mass murderer who everyone’s looking for?”
Remus nodded with a sad smile. “You forget we were all friends at school. Poor Peter Pettigrew and Harry’s parents, as well.”
Determined not to let him slip into a dark reverie, Ginny added in a teasing tone, “Really, Professor, you should be flattered by their attentions.”
Remus snorted derisively to her taunt. “What is it about a man’s privacy that so compels women to try to invade it?” he muttered more to himself than anything. “Despite being repelled by the truth.”
“Perhaps you should ask Professor Snape how he deals with similar situations?” Ginny suggested rakishly.
“I’m not that self-destructive,” Remus shot back. “Besides his situation is … dissimilar … to mine.”
“You think any students have ever been so bold?”
“Ill-advised, you mean,” he corrected with a mischievous smirk. “How else do you explain the gruesome specimens he keeps in those jars?”
Ginny burst out laughing at the image.
With a widening grin, Remus supplied, “And it’s a testament to the many years he’s been teaching here that he has walls upon walls of glass specimen jars!”
“And he thinks no one knows his secret, either!”
With a quick glance at his pocket watch, Remus nodded towards the door leading to the classroom. “Come. Why don’t you grab those third year parchment rolls on the back table?” He Levitated a similar stack before him with precision. “It’s next to impossible to direct them to their owners if they get mixed up with the second years’.”
“I remember a lot of Gryffindor girls mooning over Moony that year,” Percy admitted as he drew Gunny’s attention back to the present. “Terrible pun, isn’t it?”
“Really?” Ginny feigned innocence, not wanting to betray the confidence Remus had placed in her at such a young age.
“Don’t you recall the group who used to huddle in the far corner of the common room? As Head Boy, I had to break up their unrestrained giggling on more than one occasion.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m sure they thought you were a terrible prig.”
Percy shrugged nonchalantly. “They were more devious than that, though. Claimed they were an official Dark Arts study group.”
“You mean like Dumbledore’s Army?” Ginny couldn’t believe she’d overlooked something as pivotal as that.
“No, precisely not like Dumbledore’s Army,” Percy clarified. “All sixth and seventh year girls and not a boy in the bunch.”
Ginny nodded knowingly. “Just the sort of hen party I would have avoided. Why did you make it your mission to make their lives miserable? Sorry they excluded you?”
“It was part of my official duties that year,” he returned with just a hint of the puffed up importance she remembered. “But they weren’t studying; they were just gossiping about ‘Professor Lupin.’ Feeding their adolescent fantasies.”
Ginny laughed at the picture. “Did it not occur to any of them that the surest way to get noticed by their dear professor was to excel academically in his class?”
Percy looked at her very directly. “None of them had the advantage of having gotten to know the man over holiday dinners like we had. Good thing they didn’t include you in their group or who knows what kind of mayhem your advice would have caused?”
“Remus would have hexed me into oblivion for one!” Ginny giggled girlishly. “Did you break it up?”
“I didn’t dare,” Percy acknowledged. “Although I was outraged enough, that’s for sure. But then when I thought things through, I decided I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to Remus. He didn’t need anyone looking over his shoulder anymore than they already did.”
“McGonagall would have gone ballistic if she’d overheard,” Ginny supplied with a slight curl to her lip.
“No doubt about it,” Percy agreed with a grin. “I would have enjoyed that.”
Reading the last vestiges of worry in Percy’s eyes, Ginny was fairly certain she could put his mind at ease. “I once had occasion to witness some Ravenclaw girls from your year attempting to flirt with Remus. Penelope was not among them.”
“I took Sean to the War Museum,” Penny remarked, suddenly self-conscious now that they were alone in the spacious sitting room at Godric’s Hollow.
“Oh, Pen, was I too caught up in the fanfare of the dedication to notice?” Percy would berate himself later for the oversight.
She shook her head, studying her hands folded in her lap. “On a different day, when it wasn’t so crowded. When I could recount to Sean what I knew of these people who were being profiled as heroes.” She slowly raised her eyes to capture his, her expression so vulnerable yet unreadable at the same time. “I was surprised to find you mentioned.”
“I’m no hero, Penny,” he attested with all sincerity. “A blip on the Order’s radar at most.”
“Considering how uncertain things were at the Ministry for a time, being the Order’s mole couldn’t have been easy.”
“See that’s where you’re wrong. It was surprisingly easy for a tosser like me; estranged from my family, living a monastic existence in a squalid cold water flat, the perfect lackey to spout Ministry rhetoric as easily as breathing. I was so good at it, I almost managed to brainwash myself into believing it.”
“Yet there you were “ inexplicably.”
“Alastor Moody was just twisted enough to see the mess I had made of my life as being ideally suited to the Order’s purposes.”
“But all the other members of your family were involved in the fight…”
“Even assuming their membership in a secret organization was widely known, which it wasn’t, who was going to suspect the one son who was heartless enough to send back his mother’s Christmas jumper?”
“You didn’t!” Penelope giggled uncertainly.
“More for appearances sake at that point. But I’d burned my bridges pretty thoroughly by suggesting to family members that they temper their generosity with a more pragmatic approach to the political climate.”
Penny winced noticeably. “I see what you mean about being the Ministry’s mouthpiece.”
“Oh, no, I could be pompous all by myself,” he confirmed with a self-deprecating air. “And if anyone doubted my credentials as the family’s black sheep, the chilly reception I received during an impromptu Christmas visit spoke volumes. Not to mention the Minister was there to witness it firsthand.”
“Your family had the Minister for Magic over for Christmas dinner?” Penny gaped.
“Hardly,” Percy shot back. “They had better taste than that. He just wanted to use me as an excuse to share a few words with Harry. To try to convince the lad that the same Ministry which had been denouncing him as a raving lunatic for the past year was now his friend.”
“Harry doesn’t strike me as the type to be manipulated so easily.”
“No, Harry’s always been determined to stick to his guns “ even if it made him miserable in the process. That’s bravery. I just went with the flow.”
“Don’t try to package yourself as an opportunist, Percy,” she returned in that level-headed manner of hers. “You would have been sorted into Slytherin if your heart was as black as you say. Besides, your family seems to have taken you back.”
“Families are like that,” Percy replied. “Never willing to write you off.” He drained the last of his wine, suddenly feeling as if he were standing naked in an icy gale.
But somehow, Penny read the unspoken words between them. “I can’t say my life worked out the way I planned, either. It may have been portrayed as a fairy tale existence, but I pretty much blended into the background before Umbriel’s rabid fans. Too many lonely nights with only books to keep me company in foreign lands. Thank goodness, Sean came along to give me purpose.”
“Didn’t you make friends with any of the other Quidditch wives?” Percy ventured hesitantly.
“Not really. The closest would be Viktor Krum.”
Percy laughed sharply. “Somehow Krum doesn’t strike me as the girlfriend type.”
The unflinching gaze she trained on him brought him up short. “See, that’s where you’d be wrong.”
Surely the wine must be going to his head. “Come now, Penny; Krum’s been married three times now.”
“Why do you think his marriages don’t work out?”
“Because he’s a self-centered egotist like most sports celebrities! Trust me, my brother, Ron, works in the Magical Games Department; I’ve met enough to know the type.”
“I won’t deny he’s a bit self-centered,” Penny admitted with a wry chuckle. “But that’s mostly because he’s always brooding about how he’s made chop-suey out of his life. That’s one of his favorite expressions “ it’s particularly humorous in that Slavic accent of his.”
“But surely the media would have gotten word of this,” Percy offered as he floundered for the proper euphemism. “Lots of sports figures have come out.”
“Not Viktor. Not even after his venerable grandmother passed away, although he did stop agonizing about providing an heir then. He was so desperate to adopt at one point that we became friends. That’s how I met my husband actually; Viktor introduced us.”
Still at a loss for words, Percy blurted, “But my sister-in-law has corresponded with Krum since she was his date to the Yule Ball. Surely she would have mentioned….”
“Not if he asked her not to.”
Could Hermione have known all these years and yet said nothing? Let Ron get all flustered and jealous every time Krum’s name came up in conversation, even though he was never a true rival. The more he thought about it, the more Percy saw that it was just the thing Hermione would laugh about in private. And if Ron got all bent out of shape, he deserved it for having been such a clueless berk for so long. Percy felt his admiration for Hermione grow tenfold.
Unable to stop himself, he filled Penny in just so he could watch her dissolve into breathless laughter. Merlin, he’d practically forgotten how good it felt to make someone else laugh like that!
“I promise the secret’s safe with me,” Penny wheezed. “And Viktor’s so deeply into the closet, he’s in Narnia!”
Percy could not contain his laughter at her insouciance. “That’s one I hadn’t heard before!”
“I wasn’t certain you’d get the Muggle literary reference, even though there’s a witch in the story,” Penny confided. “It’s required reading at Durmstrang. Figures prominently in a course entitled: Debunking Muggle Christian Propaganda.”
In his own defense, Percy elaborated, “You forget that I was home-schooled before Hogwarts and, if anything, Mum insisted we have a strong literary background. Only the British classics, of course. She insisted Muggle writers would provide us with a window into their world that much more readily.”
He was surprised when she responded, “Molly never struck me as such a visionary. Is that where you got it?”
“I don’t know about that, I suspect she enjoyed reading aloud to us just as much as we enjoyed listening. It allowed her to delve into a world which has always fascinated my father as well.”
“What else did she read to you?”
“Well, she followed themes somewhat. With Bill, she started on Charles Dickens, although there was enough of his works to tide her through Charlie as well. With me, it was The Chronicles of Narnia, but she didn’t get very far into the series before the twins learning to walk turned the household upside down. Since the twins and Ron were so close together, she concentrated on Robert Louis Stevenson for them. Special emphasis on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, mind you.”
“You don’t think…?”
“Absolutely!” Percy affirmed. “Mum would have thought the irony of it to be particularly fitting. Ron, I remember, adored Kidnapped! Wanted to act out all the dialog in a Scots accent.”
“And Ginny?” Penny posed as she did some quick calculating on her fingers.
“Agatha Christie. Miss Marple at first since Ottery St. Catchpole had obviously been used as a template for the village of St. Mary Mead.”
“Such a charming rendition makes it difficult to believe you were ever on the outs with your family.”
“Politics can be a great divider,” Percy confirmed. “Not to mention my hard-headedness.”
“So what made you turn around?”
“A combination of things really,” he replied off-handedly, more certain than ever that some of the inner workings of the Order should remain confidential. If Luna had chosen to gloss over them in her museum displays, it was probably best if he kept those details close to his vest for now. “I have to say I’m intrigued that you mention Durmstrang so easily in conversation. Despite their participation in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, they’re still very much an enigma to us.”
“Probably due to the fact that Umbriel attended it as well. Told the most amazing tales of skiing the nearby mountains at the weekend.”
How rich! Percy thought to himself. “So you know where it’s located?”
“Sadly, no. That’s an iron-clad secret.”
“That’s too bad, I would have liked to be the one to tell Teddy once and for all.”
“Remus’ son? Why is he so fascinated with Durmstrang? One of those childish fixations?”
“Perhaps because Mr. Filch offers to send his irascible little hiney there on a regular basis,” Remus offered from the doorway. “Forgive me for intruding...” He waved his empty goblet in explanation.
“Not at all, Remus,” Penny replied graciously. “I could use a refill myself.”
“What team did your husband play with?” Remus posed conversationally as he filled Percy’s glass from the decanter of port wine as well. “I’m afraid I don’t keep up with Quidditch much.”
“The Helsinki Hellcats,” Penny answered.
Remus laughed as he leaned against the sideboard. “For real?” Lowering his voice, he added, “James used to refer to the Hufflepuff team as the Hellacious Hinkypunks just to get a rise out of their hot-headed captain. I didn’t realize the parody hit so close to home.”
“Why are you whispering?” Penny whispered back.
“Tonks is a Hufflepuff. Set to take over as Head of House next year,” Remus explained in a more normal tone.
“Please congratulate her for me if I forget,” Penny urged.
“Absolutely,” echoed Percy. “I understand Hellsinki sells more shirts than any other team in the International Quidditch League.”
“Only because most wizarding schools ban them,” Penny explained. “My husband used to say that alone accounted for seventy percent of their sales.”
“I believe the same passive strategy has done wonders for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Remus noted wryly.
“And to think I thought the twins would end up as washed up entertainers for children’s parties,” Penny confessed, then blamed her tactlessness on the wine.
Percy brushed her off with a carefree laugh. “Ron’s the undisputed king of the unguarded remark. Fred and George would just give you a sympathetic look as they awarded you an honorable mention.”
“And offer to appear personally at Sean’s next party if they were guaranteed a certain minimum of merchandise sales,” Remus predicted.
“Does Teddy really manage to get under Filch’s skin?”
“In new and inventive ways,” Remus issued with a hint of exasperation. “He’d be a permanent resident in the Hospital Wing if Filch wasn’t a Squib.”
“What’s to keep Filch from strangling him with his bare hands?” Percy teased.
“Speed and dexterity, mostly,” Remus volleyed back. “I don’t know what to do to dissuade Teddy.”
“Dissuade him?” Penny snorted. “I was thinking of canonizing him!”
Remus shook his head ruefully as he joined in the laughter.
“By the way, my theory is that Durmstrang is in Finland,” Penny volunteered with a sage nod. “Not that I can actually prove it.”
“Really? I always pictured it in the Ural Mountains,” Remus countered.
“What makes you so adamant about Finland?” Percy posed.
“The Hellsinki Hellcats recruit most of their players there,” Penny confirmed.
“I’ll be sure to tell Teddy,” Remus promised as he toasted his guests with the last of his wine.
The Dark Phoenix by L A Moody
Chapter Endnotes: With much gratitude to Hogwarts Duchess and her story Double Jeopardy based upon by an idea from BlackClaude about Viktor Krum’s sexual orientation. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for rendering the Bulgarian Bon-Bon into a credible character with some depth.