Chapter Thirty Two: Morning
Another failed cure. A week of dreadful (and quite expensive) treatments and Remus could tell it hadn't done a bit of good by the slashes on his chest and the sunlight spilling through the gaps in the shutters over the garage windows. If Mum and Dad didn't waste so much money on every werewolf cure every crackpot tried to sell them, they'd be able to afford to get on the Floo Network and he wouldn't have to put up with the embarrassment of having his mum or dad Apparate him over to the Potters. He could just Floo in like Peter did.
The worst of it, though, was that no matter how hard he tried not to, he always got his hopes up and it always hurt worse than the transformation itself when they were dashed. The latest crackpot had been a "Dark Arts specialist" by the name of Lockhart.
******************
Lucius was furious with Avery. He had let Snape slip through his fingers. And go to Rosier, of all people! It would have to be an upstart family, able to trace their bloodlines a mere four centuries. And Evan's father was an ally of his father's, but not actually obligated to the Malfoy family. Which meant that he would only keep the Rosiers if he managed to forge an alliance of his own.
He had heard of Evan's "friendship" with Snape and had hoped to use the low-blood as a bargaining chip. Now it was Evan who had the bargaining chip instead.
Lucius didn't believe for a moment that the heir to the pureblood Rosier family had a real friendship with the near Mudblood factory boy. But Snape had more than lived up to his promise. Fifth year and already he had mastered the Cruciatus, an Unforgivable! Lucius had no one else in his entourage with that kind of spell power. Even Bellatrix hadn't mastered it yet. And it was a favorite of the Dark Lord's.
Lucius grimaced. He had come close to experiencing the Dark Lord's favorite curse himself, recently. It had been bad enough to watch Roddy take the hit for him.
Lucius had been dipping into the family fortune behind his father's back for the Dark Lord. He had come to realize that his main utility to the leader of the Death Eaters was his money. He shuddered to think what could happen if Father cut him off. It was imperative that he build other areas of utility to the Dark Lord, as well as other sources of income to make sure he would remain useful to his dangerous master. He had hoped to present Snape's skill with the Unforgivable as an additional asset. Not to mention the possibility of using the threat of Snape as a source of income.
His rage and frustration threatened to perturb his impeccable composure. He extracted his wand from his robe pocket and coolly and methodically began to destroy the furniture in the sitting room attached to the chambers he and Narcissa occupied at Malfoy Manor.
He called Dobby, who narrowly avoided a blasting spell aimed for the legs of an armchair near the door. One side of the chair thudded to the floor. The house-elf bowed to Lucius, which served the dual purpose of showing respect to the obviously angry wizard while also keeping his head out of the line of fire.
"Dobby, fetch Master Rodolphus. I want him to meet me in the west gardens in half an hour." The two remaining legs went and the other side of the chair fell heavily to the ground.
"Yes, Master Lucius." He trembled as Lucius sent a final curse at the chair, ripping the upholstery neatly in the shape of a snake, incidentally leaving a slash on Dobby's left ear as it whizzed past.
Before he Disapparated, almost as an afterthought, Lucius added, "And clean up this mess."
Dobby didn't dare to raise his head or bandage his ear until a loud crack announced that the Malfoy heir had left. Lucius was headed for the west garden, his mind clear, ready to pace and consider his next move while he waited for Roddy to show up.
********************
James felt that, at the age of 16, he had left his childhood behind him. Risking his life to save Snivellus -- no, he told himself firmly, Snape, not Snivellus -- right on the heels of Lily's blow-up at him had hit him hard. And now, Sirius had been kicked out of his family on account of James's scheme to get him out of the house. "Well, I got him out, all right," he thought grimly. "All the way out." Sometimes, he couldn't figure Sirius out. Almost getting Snape -- and James -- killed by Remus didn't seem to faze him at all. And he seemed so glad to be gone from Grimmauld Place and blasted off that stupid tapestry that it was almost scary.
No, Sirius wasn't able to take care of himself. As his best friend, it was up to James to make sure he didn't mess up any more. He grimaced. "That means *I* can't mess up anymore either." He squared his shoulders and composed himself before knocking on the door to Sirius's rooms at the Potter manor.
"Hey, slugabed," he called through the door, "thought we were going hunting today."
The door opened abruptly, just as he was leaning in to knock again and he fell into the room and into Sirius. The other boy had clearly been waiting for exactly the right instant to open the door for that very reason.
"Whoa, boy, a bit clumsy, yeah?" he grinned as he caught James to keep him from falling.
"You did that on purpose!" James accused, fighting to keep from laughing.
Sirius kept on grinning as if James had just complimented him. James had been acting much too somberly lately -- he needed someone to loosen him up a bit.
James gave in to his laughter. It was impossible to stay serious when Padfoot grinned like that. But he didn't forget his determination to keep his best mate out of trouble.
**********************
This time, there were three black-robed figures, faces hidden, attacking the flat the Evanses occupied in the ten-unit council building in the Lewisham borough of London. Lily was trying to fight them off, all alone. Somehow Severus knew about the trouble and was telling her to hang on; he was bringing help. There was a flash of green light and Petunia was down. There was another flash of green light and she jerked awake, just as she was going to see what it felt like to be dead.
Lily sat up in a cold sweat. It was only 6 a.m. and as long as she got her own breakfast and did her chores, Mum didn't care when she got up during the summer hols. It would have been nice to sleep until 8 a.m. at least. But no, it was one of those nightmares. The "Daily Prophet" reports of Death Eater attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns were starting to get to her.
Well, no use trying to get back to sleep. She glared over at Petunia in the single bed next to her, sleeping peacefully, in their shared room. She clicked on the lamp next to her bed, not caring whether the light woke her sister. It didn't, of course. No sense starting her chores any earlier than usual. She opened her book. "On a great day the thing that makes it great may fill the least part of it--as a meal takes little time to eat, but the killing, baking and dressing, and the swilling and scraping after it, take long enough. My fight with the Prince took about the sixth part of an hour; yet the business about it more than twelve."
******************
Severus woke to the ringing of the alarm clock. It was a mechanical clock that he had to wind every night, since the house had no electricity. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. A mouse was scurrying across the floor. He slid on his slippers and stopped it with firm pressure from his foot. Once the creature was immobilized, he slowly pushed down, enjoying the sounds of tiny bones cracking and frantic squeaking. When he was sure it would be too injured to move, he removed his foot and picked it up by its tail, looking at it with a nasty smile. Then he abruptly twisted its neck, ending its pathetic jerking and mewling and tossed it in the wastepaper bin.
"Blasted rodent," he thought, lips pressed tightly together. It had taken him by surprise, before he had had time to steady himself. He closed his eyes. "Always clear your mind first thing in the morning," Madam Pomfrey had instructed him. "The urge to harm will be strongest first thing in the morning and whenever you are tired or ill." He sighed. It was true enough, but he also felt so powerful first thing in the morning. Until he cleared his mind and stored his bloody thoughts behind the carefully constructed walls the nurse had taught him to build.
Barriers up, he took one more look at the dead mouse, shuddered, and went down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for himself and his dad.
******************
Florence lay in bed, trying to recover her dream. As often happened, she had been trying to solve a problem. It wasn't a real problem -- something she had been working on in real life. It was a weird dream problem, like trying to figure out how to read the alien instructions on a bottle cap before the earth blew up. Or how to tell red from blue by smell. Often, she would remember the logic of her dream solution and it was somehow satisfying, even though it was totally irrelevant to her waking life.
Ah, that was it. She sighed happily and sat up suddenly in bed, stretching her arms to the ceiling. Then she jumped out of bed. Time for breakfast.
******************
Breakfast was taken care of and none of his potions needed tending at the moment. Severus sat at the kitchen table with a ball-point pen and Muggle notepaper. The Snapes didn't waste their precious Wizarding money on anything they could get as cheaply in the Muggle version. They still had more disposable Muggle income than Wizarding.
With no phone and no owl, Severus communicated with his friends via Muggle post. First, he was going to write Florence and confirm that her folks could pick him up in June to spend a few days with the Andersons. Then, he was going to see if Lily could put him up in London just before school started, so he could sell his potions and get his supplies at Diagon Alley before catching the Hogwarts Express.
Mr. Evans would be happy to see him. Severus had a potion that was the only thing that helped his migraines. Lily could make it herself, of course, but she didn't have the setup for making potions that he had on Spinner's End.
He didn't know about the Andersons, though. His witch mum trumped Florence's two Muggle parents at Hogwarts, but in the Muggle world, middle class Surrey outranked working class Manchester. Normally, he could provide some "herbal remedy" to impress the Muggles, but so far Florence had given him no hint of what might be useful to her parents. Well, everyone got colds and the Muggles had no cure for them, so Pepper-up was always appreciated. Still, he wished he had something that would make more of an impression.
*********************
The lights on the Altair 8800 were flashing.
Florence had gotten the last of the eight installments of her computer kit back in October of last year, when she had just started her fifth year at Hogwarts. She'd read about it in her January issue of Popular Electronics and by February had convinced her folks to provide the £286, plus shipping, from America, in eight easy payments. But she hadn't finished putting it together until the spring holidays and hadn't done any programming until this summer.
The plain rectangle, about the size of a breadbox, had toggle switches to input the program and rows of red lights to display the results. Not much of a computer, really. Her Sinclair Oxford scientific calculator could add, subtract, multiply and divide and display up to eight digits on its LED display. Still, she couldn't program her calculator. But what if she connected the display from her calculator to the computer chip in the Altair 8800? And used the number pad from the calculator for input? Florence started sketching a diagram.
She couldn't do magic over the hols, but Muggles had their own kinds of magic.
********************
Life was good. Sirius much preferred the Potters' country estate to the awful, gloomy city house the Blacks maintained in London. He was helping James dress the hind they had brought down in the hunt that morning. The groundskeeper could have done it, but James' parents thought there were some things a gentleman should know how to do for himself.
The Potters had quite a different outlook on things than Mum and Dad. Mum, especially, would be horrified at the thought of the heir to the Noble House of Black gutting his own kill. That made it even more fun.
Best of all, Remus was coming over this afternoon as well as Peter. They were both staying over for three nights. And one of them was the full moon.
Chapter Thirty One: Break
Sirius was pacing and glowering. He was in disgrace once more, confined to his bedroom for a whole month for letting Snivellus best him in that attack by the lake. At least his mum had tried to get Sniv into trouble too, but there were too many witnesses (er, yeah, the whole student body did make quite a few witnesses) to the fact that James and he had started it. Sniv had just finished it.
Dumbledore had also told his parents about him getting drunk the night of OWLs, but that, at least, was not something the Blacks cared about. Except maybe the part where he had been drinking cheap butterbeer. The firewhiskey would have been fine, though. Wormtail had nicked some class stuff.
There was no fallout at home for the fiasco with the Whomping Willow and Snivellus, either. Dumbledore knew better than to tell Walburga and Orion Black about a werewolf at the school. And Sirius would die before he gave that secret away. He just hoped Sniv could be trusted ...
Snivellus, Snivellus, Snivellus! Sometimes everything that was wrong with his life seemed to be wrapped up in that greasy haired scarecrow from Slytherin. And he'd promised not to attack the git without provocation. Oh, his parents would be quite happy if he broke that promise. They'd stand by him against Dumbledore if he hexed the slime ball into St. Mungo's. But there was just a little problem with that. He'd promised in front of the whole school and Gryffindors, unlike Slytherins, kept their promises.
He'd tried to break out, but the Blacks knew their oldest son. The whole bedroom was warded and even shielded from Apparition. Yeah, they knew him all right. He and James had worked on that, too. Peter hadn't mastered it yet and Remus didn't even try -- he was too scared of his secret getting out if the Ministry got him for Apparating without a license.
It was the third day of his prison sentence and he was climbing the walls. There had to be a way to get out. He sat down at his desk and scribbled a note, then yelled, "KREACHER!"
The ugly house-elf Apparated to his room with a crack. Sod that. The house-elf could Apparate, but not Sirius Nigellus Arcturus Black, heir to the noble and toujours pur House of Black.
"Take this," he said, holding the parchment out to the house-elf. "Give it to one of the owls to take to James Potter."
**********************************
The Marauders minus one were sitting outside in the large garden behind the Potter mansion when the owl arrived. James read the note to the others. It was short and sweet. "James. Wish you were here. Me."
"Right," said James, passing the note to Remus, who glanced at it and passed it on to Peter. "We have to break Padfoot out. Ideas?"
"He'll be confined to his bedroom," Remus started. "And since he's not already here, I assume it's been shielded from Apparition. Warded too, probably."
"Warded," mused James. "Don't suppose they use any Muggle-style locks, do they?"
"Are you kidding?" said Peter. "In the sacred pure-blood stronghold of Black?"
"Exactly," said James. "That's their blind spot. So how would a Muggle break in?"
Remus remembered a Muggle TV show he liked to watch when he visited his Muggle grandfather. "Padfoot's room is on the second floor. They'd climb up the wall to the window."
"Yeah, but how do we get to the back garden in the first place?" asked Peter. "There's only one place to Apparate to and it's always watched."
"The Cloak," said James. "Moony and I Apparate in together, but he's under the Invisibility Cloak. Then I can also cause a distraction if something goes wrong."
"So I climb the wall? Under the Cloak?" Remus frowned, trying to remember what the wall looked like. "Is there anything to hang onto? If magic is out, I can't levitate."
"No, you can't even use the Cloak. That's magic, too," said Peter. "Once Prongs is inside, you have to hide somewhere until everyone goes back inside. And you have to hide the Cloak in the garden."
"Well then, maybe you better do it, Wormtail. After all, I'm a werewolf. I'm magical even without the Cloak."
"Don't be stupid, Moony," said James. "We're all wizards. You're not any more magical than we are. I agree with Wormtail about using the Cloak. But I don't see any reason why you can't keep it on you. The wards will be against the use of magic, not the presence of magical items."
"Oh, yeah," said Remus, flushing. "But now I have to climb the wall without any camouflage and I still can't remember what it looks like."
"Pensieve," said James and called to a house-elf. When the elf appeared, he bent down and said, "Get Mr. Potter's second Pensieve from storage and bring it out here, please."
"What -- ?" started Peter.
"Wormtail notices the most. We'll use one of his memories," said James.
"We're going to use one of your memories to examine the wall," explained Remus. Every time he thought he was used to how rich the Potters were, something like this would happen. Most people couldn't afford even one Pensieve.
*************************
The plan went off like clockwork. James Side-Along Apparated Remus, under the Invisibility Cloak, to the Black's back garden. Kreacher sniffed and announced, "That Potter boy." For once, Walburga's prejudices worked against her. She had come to loathe the Potters, but her standards would not allow her to throw a pure-blood boy out without at least a semblance of hospitality.
"Good day, James," she said. "Sirius is not allowed to have guests just now."
James turned on the charm. "Madam Black, it is an honor just to be in this garden. Sirius is not the only attraction of this noble House."
Walburga looked down her nose at him. "Indeed." Manners required her to at least ask him in for some refreshment, since he was being so formal and polite, but she hesitated.
James decided to press the matter. "I regret that the grandson of Charlus Potter is such an inconvenience to you," he said, playing the family relationship card. Charlus had married a Black.
"Not at all," said Walburga, with a tone that said it definitely was. "Please come in and have a cup of tea."
**************************
Remus waited a few minutes after James had gotten himself invited inside. Then he hid between the house and the hedge, took off the Cloak and stuffed it into a pocket. There was a tree reasonably close to Sirius' window. After another quick glance, Remus scrambled up it. Now, just a short jump over to the window ledge. It seemed to make a horrible racket when he crashed against the window. He held his breath and waited.
Sirius heard something bump against the window on the other side of his room. He went over to investigate and grinned from ear to ear when he saw Remus on the ledge outside.
Remus got out a Muggle suction cup and a Muggle glass cutter and cut out a circle of glass near the window lock. He reached in to unlock the window, but it didn't work.
"Mate, if that worked I'd've opened the window for you," Sirius said. "Maybe if I cast a shrinking spell on myself -- "
"No!" Remus hissed. "No magic. Can you get your hand through the hole?"
Sirius reached through. "Looks like it."
"Then I just have to make the hole big enough for all of you to fit through." Remus enlarged the hole while Sirius held the glass steady at the first hole. When Remus had finished cutting, Sirius carefully set the large cut-out on his bedroom floor.
"Now you jump across to the tree," said Remus. "Climb down and wait for me at the bottom."
Sirius made it out and still no alarm had been raised. James had been right about the Muggle approach.
Remus slid down the tree. "Now you need to Side-Along me from the Apparition point in your garden. You'll have to be fast once we start moving. I bet all hell'll break loose."
"You got it," said Sirius. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three."
As soon as they reached the Apparition point, alarms started to go off, but Sirius and Remus were gone before it could be shielded.
*******************************
James was in the kitchen drinking tea, under the watchful eye of Madam Black glaring at him from the doorway, when the alarm sounded.
"Oh, dear," said James, feigning surprise. "Has something happened?"
Walburga rushed to the kitchen window just in time to see Sirius and Remus disappear from the Apparition point. She whirled around and screamed at James, "YOU DID THIS, POTTER!"
"Madam Black, I've been sitting here the entire time," James protested, as if his feelings were hurt.
"GET OUT! GET OUT!" she screamed. "AND SINCE YOU WANT MY DISGRACE OF A SON SO MUCH, KEEP HIM!"
*******************************
James left with as much dignity as he could muster with dishes crashing around his head. He didn't realize it at the time, but Walburga was as good as her word. The next day, she and Orion disinherited Sirius. Padfoot arrived at the Potter mansion and there he stayed.
Chapter Thirty: Kitchen
As usual when he was home for the summer, Severus took over the kitchen. His potion making was an odd mixture of Muggle technology and magic. The cauldron, which had magical properties, was heated over an ordinary gas flame instead of the one he conjured at Hogwarts. The magical ingredients were prepared using ordinary chopping boards and knives. The weirdly colored concoctions were stirred with ordinary wooden or stainless steel spoons.
Technically, it was as illegal for him to make potions as to do any other kind of magic outside of school until he turned seventeen. Practically, the Ministry of Magic's ordinary magic detection methods didn't work very well with potions. Uncle Severus let his nephew name him as the potion brewer when he sold potions to the apothecary on Diagon Alley. If they were surprised that suddenly the potions that used to come from Eileen Snape were now being made by her brother, no one said anything.
Tobias sat at the kitchen table, sipping his tea while he watched his son move between the counter and the stove top. The tea was a Muggle recipe with ginger, lemon juice and licorice that Jenny, Rafe's daughter, had recommended and Severus had approved. It seemed to help when he was having just a little trouble breathing and it wasn't as harsh as the bronchial dilator.
His son's hair was tied back from his face with a red bandanna and he wore a black t-shirt, flared jeans and trainers. Thanks to the cooling spells on the house, even the kitchen was comfortable, despite this summer being the hottest and driest in years.
"I'll have supper ready in half an hour," said Severus. "That's the migraine potion done. I can leave it to cool now." He poured the contents of the cauldron into an ordinary bowl to cool and set the cauldron in the left basin of the sink, where he filled it with hot water and a few drops of a cleaning potion to soak.
He stirred the canned tomato soup heating up on the stove and then moved over to a chopping board. The lettuce was already torn up and washed and in the salad bowl. He had radishes and carrots and a cucumber to chop up for the salad. Once the vegetables were dumped in the salad bowl, he turned back to the dirty cauldron.
It was a pain to have only one cauldron and to have to wash it by hand. But he wanted to get the asthma remedy started before supper, because it took so long to cure. He filled the cauldron half full with water from the kitchen tap and set it on the flame. Then he carefully measured out some liquids from two different bottles and scraped in some ingredients that he'd prepared earlier from one of the chopping boards.
That done, he turned back to the salad. He mixed oil and vinegar in an old vinegar bottle and added some herbs and salt and pepper. He shook the bottle vigorously, poured it over the lettuce and tossed the salad with two serving spoons. One more stir of the soup, which was simmering now.
"More tea, Dad?" he asked as he poured the soup into two bowls and then set the empty pot in the right basin of the sink where he filled it with hot water and some dish washing liquid to soak.
"Sure," answered Tobias. He loved watching Severus at work. The boy had the same grace and economy of motion as his mother.
Severus grabbed a ginger root and lemon from the magically cooled cupboard. He cut off an inch of the root, peeled it, chopped it and crushed it with the flat of the knife before adding it to a teapot. He did the same with some licorice root from a jar in the cupboard and halved the lemon. Then he poured hot water from the tea kettle into the pot.
He brought the soup over to the table, then turned back to the salad, which he tossed one more time, dished up onto two plates and set on the table as well. The ginger root went back into the cooling cupboard, the chopping boards were scraped into two different trash bins, one for magical ingredients and one for mundane. Then the boards were dumped into the appropriate basin of the sink to soak as well.
A quick wipe down of the counters and then Severus poured Tobias' tea into his cup, squeezing a lemon half into it before returning the lemon to the cooling cupboard as well. Finally, he poured some hot water over the once-used teabag in his own cup and sat down at the table himself.
"It's finally happened," Tobias said, after a few spoonfuls of soup. "They're closing the mill."
Severus sighed. "Good. Now you can finally get away from there without losing your unemployment benefits."
"There's more than that," said his father. "Rafe says I'm due disability as well for the brown lung. I'm going to be a man of leisure and still bring in nearly the same amount of money."
"Ah. I see it now. The brown lung was just part of your clever scheme to retire early and see the world," smirked the son.
"You caught me out, boy," he returned. "So, where should I start? Spain or Greece?"
"Don't be so boring. How about Kenya or Brazil?"
"You can do better than that. After they fix up my lungs at your hospital, you can take me on a tour of all the Wizarding communities..." His voice trailed off at the look on his son's face. "Or just Diagon Alley would be enough, Severus. You don't know how much I miss..." His voice trailed off again, this time from the ache of being cut off from the magical world.
Severus hadn't told him about losing Lucius yet. And apparently, Uncle Rafe hadn't either, leaving it to him to break the news.
"Dad, I'd love to take you on a tour. But you're going to have to hold on a while longer. I've lost my in with Malfoy."
Tobias just stared at his son for a long moment. Then, as if on cue, he started coughing. When the cough didn't die down, he grabbed the inhaler that he kept on a string around his neck. After a couple of puffs, the coughing cleared and he could breathe easily again.
His face was hard and his voice soft and dangerous when he finally spoke. "I assume there is a good reason?"
Severus felt his father's anger like a tangible presence. "I'm still in with Evan Rosier," he answered, avoiding the actual question.
"Can he get me into St. Mungo's?" Tobias asked coolly.
"Not yet," Severus answered. "He's not established yet. He's just in my year."
Tobias saw the blank face and glittering eyes that meant his son was in pain and softened. "What happened, Severus?"
"Avery had me casting Cruciatus," Severus said, quickly adding "Not on people, though," when he saw the look on his father's face. "I thought I could handle it. I couldn't," he added simply. "I lost my temper and fought a pure-blood. Two pure-bloods."
"Bloody hell," whispered Tobias. "Potter and Black?"
Severus nodded.
"But you still have Evan Rosier?"
He nodded again.
"Then I guess I'll just have to wait a while longer," he said with a wry grin, leaning back in his chair. "Give me a chance to brush up on my Portuguese, it will."
"You don't need to learn Portuguese," said Severus in mock exasperation. "Don't you know there's a spell for that?"
"Of course," Tobias answered. "There's a spell for everything. You just made up that bit about underage use of magic to keep from having to make yourself useful around here."
"Sure, Dad," he returned. "I much prefer doing the dishes by hand to bothering with something as exhausting as a Scourgify."
"Ha! I knew it! He admits it," the man said, pointing an accusing finger at his son and raising an eyebrow, drawing a snicker from the teenager.
They sat there quietly for a while, finishing their supper. Then Severus poured his father more of his special tea before moving to the sink to take care of the dishes.
"That curse Avery had you do," Tobias started. "It had something to do with you losing your temper?"
Severus stopped what he was doing for a moment, but kept turned towards the sink, his back to his father. "Yes," he answered in a toneless voice, going back to the dishes. "Apparently there's a ... condition ... associated with casting the spell too often."
"And you're not doing it anymore?" he went on.
Severus shook his head, his back still to his father.
"Good," he said. "I guess there'll be two Snapes in treatment at St. Mungo's then. In the meantime, I'll just have to stop goading you into rages from now on."
Severus sighed and dropped his head. He didn't have the heart to tell his father there was no cure for his "condition." He placed the last dish on the drying rack and turned around. "That's right, Dad," he said, slipping back into his chair at the table. "You've got to stop riling me or I'll ... I'll ... Damn! No hexing until I'm seventeen or I'll bring the Ministry down on me. Guess I'll just have to settle for ... oh ... breaking your legs?"
Tobias smiled. "That'll do, son, that'll do."
"Anything else I need to know about this condition?" the man asked lightly, unable to completely hide the concern in his voice.
"No," Severus answered and he didn't consider it a lie, exactly. There was nothing else his father needed to know.
Chapter Twenty Nine: Rafe
Severus unstuck himself and his trunk from the doors of the bus, relieved to see Uncle Rafe there to help him carry his trunk the few blocks back home.
It hadn't been too bad getting the trunk from the Hogwarts Express to the Muggle train to Manchester. He'd had a trolley and there was actually a place for luggage on the train.
But the bus from Manchester to the borough where Spinner's End was located had been a nightmare. No trolley, no place for luggage on the bus. The trunk had ended up taking an entire seat on the bus, which had earned him glares and not-so-quietly muttered oaths. Severus had glared right back. Maybe his trunk had the seat, but he had stood up, hadn't he? He hadn't taken two seats. Then, the mad attempt to manhandle the trunk out of the bus at his stop, before the driver decided to go on. For a moment, Severus had thought the man would take off while he and the trunk were still stuck in the exit.
Since his mother had died, getting to and from Hogwarts had gone from quick and easy to an endurance test. The Princes had fetched him at the end of his fourth year, but he'd been left to himself since then. Well, the bus was the only really bad part and it was only from Manchester to the borough. And he had only one more trip to Hogwarts to go before he'd be able to use magic himself, since he'd turn seventeen during January of his sixth year. That would be a relief!
Uncle Rafe picked up one end of the trunk as Severus took the other and they set off to Spinner's End.
"Toby tells me you've been seeing a girl at that boarding school of yours. Redhead, isn't it? Lily?"
"Black hair. Florence. Lily's a friend, not a girlfriend." Severus was relieved to have a name to give him. Dad and Uncle Rafe and his cousins and the Princes had all seemed intent on misconstruing his relationship with Lily. It was as if they'd never heard of a bloke being friends with a girl before.
"Oh? Florence? Nice name. You going to bring her around here? You and her could go out to the Wigan Casino with the kids. I think they're planning on going out there a few times this summer."
"Zeke and Jenny are out there every time they've got the cash," Severus observed dryly about his cousins, then added, "which I haven't got, by the way."
"That reminds me. Mr. Holt's arthritis is acting up and the McKellan clan all have colds. And Mrs. Ghanchi over at the Kyber Pass wants at least a month's supply of your migraine remedy. That should pay for at least one trip to Wigan." The Kyber Pass was what they called the area a few streets over mostly settled by immigrants from India.
"Thanks," said Severus, calculating. "I've been getting ingredients while I've been away. Should only take about a week." Severus earned his Muggle pocket money making various "herbal" remedies for people on and around Spinner's End.
"A word to the wise. Raise your prices. You charge only a few pence more than Boot's and your stuff actually works. You could charge double and they'd count it well worth it."
"Double? That's a bit of a hike all of a sudden, isn't it?" Severus liked the idea, but he didn't want to get his customers mad at him. The last thing he needed was for someone with a grudge to report him to the Muggle authorities for making homemade drugs. Not to mention what would happen if the Ministry of Magic ever found out he was selling potions to Muggles.
"Would be. But I've been preparing folks for it. Said your "special ingredients" have gone way up in price and you weren't sure you could continue making your remedies. Said you might have to triple your prices. They'll be relieved to hear the price is only doubled."
"That's brilliant, Uncle Rafe," Severus said appreciatively. "I owe you one. Anything you need? It's free."
"Toby says you're not making the cough medicine anymore."
"It's no better than his prescription from the pharmacy. At least that's what he told me." Severus stopped and looked directly into his uncle's eyes.
"That's right," said Rafe. "But isn't there anything else you can make? On a bad day, it wears your da out just to breath."
"I could give him something to ease his breathing, but the bronchial dilator would be just as good," said Severus, "and he can get that already paid for. There are other treatments, but I'm not a trained doctor yet. I've got two years left at my school before I can even start the training program at the hospital."
"What about that special hospital? You said they could cure him there. When can you get him in?"
They had reached the house, but Severus didn't want to talk about this inside. He motioned for his uncle to set the trunk down in the front garden.
"I won't be able to get him in until I start the training program at the earliest. Won't that be soon enough?"
"Two more years!" Rafe paused. Then he continued, "He'll live, but they'll be two long years. See for yourself when you go inside. I know you've been wanting to wait, but can't that Malfoy chap get him in earlier?"
Severus grimaced. "Malfoy owes me nothing," he said bitterly.
Rafe grabbed him by the shoulders. "What do you mean, he owes you nothing?! What did you do?! Toby needs that hospital!"
Severus jerked angrily out of his uncle's grip. "You don't know what he wanted me to do!" Severus hissed.
"I know that my brother is more important that your pride, boy!" Rafe snarled.
"It had nothing to do with my pride," Severus snarled back, but said nothing further.
Man and teenager glared at each other in the hostile silence.
"Fine," said Rafe and walked away towards his own house, leaving Severus to maneuver the trunk from the front garden into the house by himself.
*****************************
A/N:
I am using Bolton, a borough very close to Manchester, as my model for where Spinner's End is located.
The Wigan Casino was a very popular dance hall very close to Bolton which was famous for "Northern Soul" music between 1973 and 1981. It was closed in 1981 and burned down in 1982. Despite the name, it had nothing to do with gambling, as far as I can tell. "Northern Soul" is danceable Motown style music, mostly from the 60's, as far as I can tell.
http://www.24hourmuseum.org.uk/exh/ART24971.html
http://www.soulfuldetroit.com/web02-northern/index.html
http://www.bbc.co.uk/manchester/going_out/clubbing/2003/08/21/wigan_casino.shtml
Bolton has perhaps the "largest single group of people from one village in India." They started arriving from the village of Barbodhan in the late fifties and early sixties. The area where most of them settled was called the "Kyber Pass" by locals.
http://www.barbodhan.org.uk/
Chapter Thirteen: Nightshades
Time: Morning 7/15/95
During breakfast that morning, there had been a commotion in an upstairs bathroom. Some particularly nasty creature had been lurking behind a plumbing access panel, and had popped out as George was exiting the shower. Fortunately, he was able to fend it off with several well aimed jinxes; for, while showering, he had hung his wand through the curtain rings to keep it within reach. There had ensued afterward a lively discussion of whether the underage residents of the house should keep their wands handy at all times, whether their use of them might be detectable by the Ministry and compromise the security of the house, or whether they should be constantly accompanied by an adult. (Discussion of that last idea nearly degenerated into a shouting match between Ron, Ginny and Molly Weasley, in spite of Hermione's best efforts to mediate.)
Sapphire found her head spinning a bit trying to comprehend it all, but one thing was clear; they didn't want her anywhere near while Sirius, Molly and the twins hunted down this malevolent inhabitant of the crawl spaces. The kids were put to work cleaning up after breakfast - the kitchen being deemed the safest room in the house. Sapphire was nothing but in the way there. Trying to sit at the table and work on her paper proved futile; there was far too much banter and activity. Finding a spot alone in the house to work while a provoked ghoul prowled goodness-knew-where behind the walls also seemed a bad idea. So, promising herself that she'd be cautious, and knowing Sirius was too busy to notice, she put on some thick socks and rawhide gloves and slipped out into the weedy little garden.
The late morning sun was well on it's way to drying out the grass, and the light and warmth were a welcome change from the slightly dank house. "I know more about what's out here than what's in there anyway," she reasoned aloud, and smiled at the touch of the sunlight on her face and the smell of growing things - even if some of those things were a little unsavory. She walked slowly along the overgrown flagstone path through the center of the plot, stopping near a stone bench almost obscured by nettles. "There's still mint here," she said to herself, unsheathing the rapier and prodding some nettle out of the way with it's point. She gave a little yelp, as the nettle threw its barbed tendrils over the blade as though to strangle the intruder. She kept her grip though, and even laughed as the nettle withdrew from the sharp edge, leaving a few severed bits smoking and sizzling on the ground where one magic had overcome the other.
"OK, I consider myself warned!", she chuckled, and proceeded to carefully cut back the protesting nettles until she had revealed about two square feet containing some scraggly bergamot and woody peppermint. It was good to have the sky above her head; for even though the Black mansion was large, it had a close, almost sepulchral feeling. Out in the garden, Sapphire sang as she worked, not fearing that she would disturb anyone - or anything - with her song. She pushed the severed nettles into a pile, then prodded the mint. It didn't react, so she trimmed off the overgrown tops, pocketed a few bits for tea and looked around for another worthwhile project.
The almost skeletal remains of a creeping rosemary stood beside the stone bench, full of dead branches and much grown over with the vicious nettle. Sapphire cleared the nettle, but decided to wait for pruning shears rather than dull her blade on the bush, which would need trimming almost to the ground. Then, behind the hedge and in a rare clear space beside the path, she saw a familiar plant.
"Ah, now this is a proper witch's garden!" she laughed. "A bit of Belladonna would be mandatory. Wonder how she used it?" She extended the blade to touch the stalk and leaves; when nothing extraordinary occurred, she bent closer to examine the plant. "That's a happy looking nightshade," she observed. "If atropa will grow here, I wonder if it's cousin could be persuaded... After all, there are two things in life money won't buy; love and home grown lycopersicon esculentum." She looked up at the high enclosing walls, considered the climate and frowned. "There'd never be enough sun. Unless..., well, who knows? I'll ask Sirius if there's a spell for good tomatoes. But. . ., now what have we here?"
She sheathed the blade and knelt beside the nightshade. "This is something new! Have we fruit or flower?" Rather than the usual purple bell flowers, from the axils by some leaves there hung fat, slightly tear shaped silver orbs. They glowed faintly, like tiny moons on their thready stalks. Sapphire removed her gloves, pulled a pad and pencil from her pocket and began carefully sketching the plant. She first drew the main stems, shading carefully to capture their cylindrical shape. She added the prominently veined leaves, then began on the orbs.
She paused and studied the nightshade again. "I see some normal flowers, so this must be fruit - still. . ." she wondered out loud. "The calyx cups are quite green looking, and then here's a berry just turning from green to purple with yellowing sepals. So if you aren't fruit and you aren't flower. . ." She squinted at one large orb, her nose barely two inches distant. "Wonder if you're a bud of some kind, or perhaps a parasite?" The plant had not reacted to the charmed sword, so she gently lifted the orb with her pencil point. At once, it swelled and burst in a cloud of glittering dust that showered her hand and face. Sapphire gasped in surprise, and felt the ground revolve as the world turned gray.
_________
Remus Lupin had just arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place after concluding some business for the Order. He'd had no breakfast, so headed straight for the kitchen; but rather than finding Molly fixing a bite for lunch, he found Ron, Ginny and Hermione. The three related to Remus how George had fought off the ghoul and emerged unscathed, if somewhat undignified since he had blasted his bath robe to ashes in the fight and been forced to wear the flowered shower curtain.
"Sirius, mom and the twins are hunting it now." Ron offered.
"And we were ordered to stay in the kitchen," added Ginny with a bit of a pout.
"Where's Sapphire?" Remus asked.
The kids looked around. "She was sitting at the table," Hermione began, "but I haven't seen her in while."
"Wait, I remember! " Ron said brightly. "I saw her come in with some work gloves on her hands, so maybe she's in the garden."
"Alone?" asked Hermione, looking alarmed.
Remus stretched up to look out the small window. Almost immediately, he swore under his breath and ran for the back door. "Go find another adult!" he yelled at the kids as they emerged from the house behind him.
Hermione reentered the kitchen first and almost ran headlong into a black robe. "Remus wants some help in the garden!" she panted. "There's been an accident!"
Severus Snape regarded her coldly, but turned and exited the kitchen.
"Why did you send him?" Ron asked incredulously.
"He's the first adult I saw!" Hermione retorted. "Remus obviously wanted help fast. And anyway, if we're asking 'why,' why didn't you tell us Sapphire went out?"
As the argument progressed in the kitchen, Remus looked up from his crouch over the unconscious Sapphire to see Severus striding toward him down the garden path. As he neared them, his steps slowed and his mouth twitched a little. "Did you manage to knock her out?" he purred. "Really, Remus, you must show me how you did it."
"I found her here," Remus said, ignoring the intent of Severus' remark. "She's unconscious and her pulse is weak and fast. I think she's been attacked, but I don't know by whom or what." He pointed his wand at her. "Ennervate!" he commanded, but Sapphire didn't respond.
"Isn't she wearing Black's rapier?" Severus asked.
"Yes, there it is - still sheathed. She must have been surprised to not draw it." Remus had one hand on her right wrist, the other probed the pulse in her neck.
"It doesn't work when she's unconscious then," Severus remarked, and prodded her with a finger. Instantly, both he and Remus drew back their hands with exclamations of pain.
They looked at each other for a second, then Remus carefully touched her hand. "I feel something, but it isn't uncomfortable. Perhaps the charm allows her to be touched if she needs assistance? "
"Why you and not me?" Severus asked.
Remus shrugged. His eyes were on Sapphire, and he didn't raise them until Severus bent and lifted a notebook from the ground.
"This may be the cause of her condition," he offered, displaying the sketch of the Nightshade to Remus. They both turned toward the nearby plant that matched the sketch, and Severus pointed a wand at one of the silver pods. "Levioso." The orb lifted on it's stalk. "Haustorium reducto," he commanded, and the pod removed itself, a miniature full moon suspended only by a spell.
Remus repressed a shiver of revulsion. "It's a parasite on the host nightshade then?" he asked quickly.
"A most unusual relationship," Severus confirmed. "She seems to have been studying it. Her pencil is covered with silver spore. " Here, Severus dropped the notebook into an outer pocket and lifted the pencil with the hem of his robe. He tapped the silver powder from it into a small jar, then caught the levitating pod in the same and sealed the lid. He squinted into the jar. "Well, well, Mrs. Black! I'm impressed. I've never knew luamorta* would grow this far north. No doubt the nightshade host has increased it's hardiness. I wonder what sort of joining spell she used?"
"Devil's breath*?" Remus asked. "That's native to the Algarve region of Portugal!"
Severus nodded. "A rare fungus even there, much prized as a potent ingredient in several restricted sleeping potions. It's effects could well be intensified by the absorption of it's nutrients from the blossoms of Belladonna. You said the pulse is thin; are the pupils dilated by any chance?"
Remus gently pulled back an eyelid; it was like uncovering a bottomless well. "And how!" he answered. "So what should we do?"
"What should we do?" echoed Severus, rather vacantly.
"Do you know an antidote, man?" Remus was becoming piqued by Severus' apparent lack of concern. "Or do you think she'll wake on her own?"
"An antidote to revive a meddling muggle," drawled Severus, with a smirk. "Well, yes, I suppose I know something that might do it. Without intervention, I suspect she will sleep quite a while. As a matter of fact. . ., 'Engorgio gemma' " he said, pointing his wand at Sapphire's left hand. The gray dust there suddenly swelled to the size of marbles. "Ingenious, Madam Black! The sleep induced by the expelling vapors ensures that their host does not remove the spores."
"Haustorium reducto!" Remus almost shouted, waving his wand over Sapphire. Gray dust fell from her face, hands and clothes. Feeling more than a bit ill at the idea of a flesh eating fungal parasite, he applied the same spell to himself and followed with a couple of cleansing spells for both of them.
"Now, as I asked before," he resumed, when he was satisfied that no spores remained externally, " do you think she needs an antidote? What if she inhaled the spores along with the expelling vapors?" Severus said nothing for a long moment as he seemed to study Remus, who was now cradling Sapphire's head in his hands. Remus, avoiding his eyes, asked again, "What does she need?"
"Yes, it's quite likely she inhaled. It would be interesting to see how long she would sleep. . ." He stooped and regarded the altered nightshade.
"She shows signs of poisoning, Severus. Her vitals aren't good," said Remus wondering if Severus could hear the fear in his voice. He tried a deep breath. "I don't carry bezoars. You know how expensive. . ."
"Wouldn't help - no, I doubt it." Severus, still contemplating the spell graft, would have sounded more engaged making a lecture about cleaning potions on a Friday in May. "This is almost more a sleeping potion than a poison. True, the ingredients are potentially lethal, but she inhaled it rather than swallowed it, and the effects seem long term."
"No, you're right. Not a bezoar. What about a rejuvenating draught of some sort?"
"It would be tedious to administer enough liquid to have an effect, as she would probably choke in her sleep."
"Yes, of course." Remus felt a bit foolish for not seeing that right away. "But we should try to improve her heart function right away, don't you agree?"
Severus didn't answer. He was going through the pockets inside his robe. Finally, he produced a small vial with a substance inside that seemed to be in flux between states, boiling up green and then transforming into a blue vapor, only to condense like rain and return to it's green liquid state.
"Inhaling potion! Of course," Remus said reaching for the vial. Severus held it out of his reach, and Remus looked a question at him.
"It's a good batch, don't you think?" Severus raised it to the sunlight and admired it's churning colors. "It's very difficult to brew these effervescents, you know. If one gets the confining spell too strong, it fails to assume the vaporous form. Too weak, and of course, the whole batch evaporates before one can bottle it."
"It's an admirable job of brewing." Remus wondered how long it would be necessary to play this game before Severus handed over the vial.
"It really seems a shame to waste it on this muggle. "
"It seems fortuitous that you have some on hand just when it's needed," Remus retorted. The pulse beneath his finger seemed fainter, and he was running out of patience.
Severus continued to hold the vial before his eyes, like a jeweler appraising a gem stone. "I really should have some compensation for this. Does Black seem very attached to his muggle? One might consider that she isn't so young as when they met. I wonder what he would pay for a . . ."
"Since you no doubt used Hogwart's stock to brew it in the schools' cauldron, why don't you have Dumbledore figure the bill?" Remus knew money wasn't the real issue, but he didn't care anymore what Severus thought; he'd had enough of being toyed with.
Severus' smile was triumphant. "I suppose that would be acceptable," he said, as he handed over the vial to Remus.
A minute later, while a barrier spell confined the blue vapor around Sapphire's nose and mouth, Remus felt a strengthening of her pulse. In another minute, she began to breath more deeply.
"I believe the muggle has escaped from most of the paralysis, and should sleep off the remaining effects," said Severus, who had continued to observe as Remus administered the potion. "It is unlikely that any spores will survive in her airways."
"Help me move her indoors," Remus said.
"You'll have to carry the muggle yourself, unless you want to unfasten that sword."
"I can handle her," Remus responded quickly. "I don't want to push my luck by touching the rapier directly. Besides, we don't know for sure that it doesn't help protect her from this poison, do we?"
"The blade's behavior has proved something of an unknown," Severus agreed, not smiling.
"Then it should stay attached," Remus said and, slipping both arms beneath her, he staggered to his feet, trying not to look surprised that she wasn't as light as he had guessed. The sheathed rapier dangled from Sapphire's left side; her right side lay against his chest. Severus preceded Remus into the house, opening the doors for him as they went.
Remus was panting from the effort of carrying the unconscious woman up the stairs and wishing he had tried to levitate her, spell repelling sword or not, when he deposited her on the center bed in the girls room. He arranged her limbs and head into what he hoped were comfortable positions and felt her pulse again. It seemed regular and strong enough, if rather slow. "Will she need another dose of the antidote?" he asked Severus.
"Not unless she fails to wake within twenty-four hours, or has a decline in her vital signs." Severus added, "Someone should observe her until she regains consciousness."
"Yes, of course. I'll fetch Sirius," Remus said, and strode quickly toward the stair landing.
_______
Severus remained where he stood, drumming his fingers on crossed arms as he watched the sleeping muggle. He had only meant to stay a moment in this hateful house; Dumbledore had sent him to leave a package for Arthur. Now he was stuck with nurses duty. At least he had managed to have a little fun at Remus' expense - it had almost erased the residue of his tedious morning with Ratsnoot. So, Lupin was growing fond of Miss McNosey, eh? That might prove entertaining.
It was so easy to get a rise out of these Gryffindor types - over hot cauldrons that boiled their contents out at the slightest provocation, or none at all. (A fact that Dumbledore was exasperatingly determined to ignore. If he couldn't talk him out of this idiotic plan to teach the Potter boy Occlumency, the Headmaster was about to get an object lesson he'd not be able to deny.) He would get Black's back up just by being here - another diversion from his oppressive existence if he played it right.
Really, it was small wonder Black and Lupin were attracted to this muggle. Like them, she had no restraint in her thoughts. Most muggles, when probed with legelimency, either put up some sort of feeble resistance that he could suppress without much effort, or were cowed into a sort of mental paralysis that allowed him to sort through their thoughts without distraction. It was never difficult to obtain the information he needed - not unless their encounter with the deatheaters had left them deranged. (In those cases, their minds were chambers of horrors, and probing not only was unproductive, it could be injurious to the legelimense. For those, the healers at St. Mungo's could only wipe their memories clean and deliver them back to their families as mysterious cases of total amnesia.)
But this muggle had been a complete surprise. Entering her mind had been like diving into a swollen river. A thousand narratives had swirled around him as he had struggled to focus on the ones that were relevant; while, in the midst of the voluptuous maelstrom, on her little island of consciousness, this powerless muggle had been observing him - learning his own mind by watching him learn hers. Severus shook his head, chasing away the disturbing sense of intimacy - yes, even violation - that he still felt vividly. Better not to think of that.
Of course, she had other, more mundane charms that any sort of man might appreciate. Severus' mood improved again as he lazily regarded the strong planes of her cheeks, the graceful length of her neck, the thickness and sheen of the black, shot with silver braid that snaked over the side of the bed. It was satisfying to let his eyes drift slowly over the rest of her form. "She's not unattractive when she's unconscious," he muttered to himself. He recalled accessing some fragmented memories of Black stunning her a time or two when she was less than fully clothed. "I suppose that would prevent her impertinent tongue from spoiling the moment." His smirk stretched itself into a leer.
Sapphire stirred. A low moan escaped her lips and she tried to lift a hand, as though fending off a blow. She shouldn't be awakening yet. Severus brow creased as he tried to remember if there could be side affects from the potion ingredients. She mumbled something and twitched her legs a bit. He would have said a muggle with that mix of dwale and Devil's breath* in her would be unconscious for half a day, no matter what antidote was used. She must be dreaming, and not a nice dream from the looks of it. Could it be a psychotic reaction to the poisons? She might suffer for a long time if the dream lasted as long as her sleep.
"If she awakes with damage to her mind, no doubt Black will say my antidote was at fault, " he muttered. He began to wonder what sort of story Dumbledore would concoct when the legelimenses as St. Mungo's discovered Black wandering about in the mind of their patient. Could they trace her thoughts to Grimmauld Place? There seemed to be no certainties with this one. Severus' felt his previous black mood returning and sighed.
What to do? If he entered her mind, he would know what sort of dreams disturbed her, but legelimency was useless on the unconscious. "Somnium imperio" would allow him to control her dream. Using it might prevent any trauma, but, because of the helplessness of the subject, there were strict regulations for it's use; written consent in advance was required. Of course, Black was hardly in a position to turn him in for unauthorized use of restricted magic. Still, there might be a better way.
What he wanted was to examine the dream, and then influence it as required. There was another spell; he had learned it from a Beaux Batons exchange student. He hadn't used it in years - and never on a muggle - but when he was a youth in his teens and twenties, there had been occasions. . . He watched a few more seconds, then lifted his wand while shaking his head, amused at his own thoughts. "Well, why not? I could use the practice," he whispered.
His incantation was silent - partly out of tradition, though in this case, there was little danger of waking the sleeper. But a silent spell had an aroma that was different from spoken ones, and he generally preferred them as much for that reason as any other. Severus prided himself in being able to discern the scents of spells. Not one in a thousand wizards could do it, he knew. It was sometimes as useful as legelimency. The odors of people told him much as well. He could identify most muggles without even looking at them, just from their smell. Most were a stinking caldron of synthetic poisons and bad imitations of entrancement potions. Young muggle women were particularly likely to smell of the later. It now struck him that this one smelled different. It was no wonder he had doubted her muggleness at their first meeting; his nose seldom lied. She smelled of lime rich earth, leaf mold and a complex mixture of plant oils - not wholly unlike the ingredient locker that Madame Pomfrey kept at the Hogwart's infirmary. At first, he put this down to her proximity to these things in the garden - though this garden's soil was actually lacking in lime, now that he thought of it - or residue on her hands and clothes; but after Remus' assiduous cleansing, he realized these smells emanated from herself. She had absorbed into her very flesh the stuff she worked with.
Now a fine gray mist was forming around Sapphire's forehead. It collected and thickened a bit. Without lowering the wand, Severus took his other hand, scooped up a bit of the vapor and carried it to his own forehead. Then, he made small stroking motions in the air. The mist lengthened and covered his face. Mimicking his strokes, the mist above Sapphire extended itself down the length of her face. The furrows in Sapphire's brow softened. Her jaws unclenched, lips opening slightly, and she breathed more evenly. "That's better, isn't it?" Severus murmured to the sleeping woman. It was surprisingly pleasurable to redirect the muggle's dream, which he now judged to be obliviation induced - more about dementors than dementia. It had been no trouble distracting her; she seemed to welcome his presence in her dream. He hadn't used this spell in so long he had quite forgotten how satisfying it could be. He and that little blonde from Chaumont had derived great pleasure from it - that was, until she decided to spend her evenings stargazing with . . . His initial scowl tightened into a crocodile smile. Perhaps he really would get something in return for his potion? After all, the muggle was receptive.
He paused, turning one ear toward the open door. Hearing nothing, he turned back and continued pulling at the air. The mist elongated, slowly creeping from chin, to throat, to chest. Severus' eyes were almost closed behind the magical cloud. He breathed deeply, slowly, in time with the sleeping woman. Except for the motion of his hand and the rise and fall of their diaphragms, neither Severus nor Sapphire moved at all. The mist continued it's progress.
The blow landed squarely on Severus jaw and would have knocked him to the floor if he hadn't landed on Ginny's bed. He sat up, one hand supporting him, the other palming his throbbing face, and spat a bit of blood onto the floor. His wand had rolled away on the sagging floorboards and into the hall, but Sirius wasn't holding one either. Both Sirius' hands were clinching and unclenching as though he couldn't decide whether to strangle Severus or pound him to pulp, while his jaws chewed soundlessly on what seemed an immovable clog of words. Severus swallowed once and smiled up at his assailant with reptilian coolness. Ignoring the blood that seeped from one corner of his lips, he spoke. "You give the muggle nightmares, Black. I was attempting to replace them with a more, shall we say 'pleasant' dream."
"Go!" Sirius growled through clenched teeth.
Severus rose slowly from the bed, spat blood again, this time dangerously close to Sirius' feet and, without turning his back on Sirius, made his way toward the door. The mocking sneer remained unmoving on his bleeding mouth." It is fortunate that I was able to administer an antidote so quickly. Under normal circumstances I would expect the muggle to sleep like the dead for about twelve hours, but this one seems to be full of surprises," he drawled. " For it to be dreaming so soon is rather remarkable," he continued in a somewhat bored manner, as though he were giving instructions to a class of rather slow first years. "You should be pleased. Either it isn't as badly poisoned as I had thought, or it's very resistant to the toxin. Perhaps whatever makes this one resistant to Obliviation also resists charmed sleep. I think St. Mungo's might find your muggle pet very interesting to study. . ."
"Go!" said Sirius again, drawing his wand. Severus, too dizzy to bend down, prodded his with his foot and summoned it from the floor to his hand, where it hung with insolent looseness from his long fingers. As he began to turn away Sirius added, "If you use her like that again - if you so much as touch her, I'll kill you."
Severus mouth, now swollen and lopsided, twitched once as he turned and met Sirius' eyes for a moment, but he only turned again and slowly, silently descended the stairs.
____________
*Many thanks to Mugglenet pal, Linda C for providing the botanical and common names for the fungus.
@4,616 words, 6/14/06, Final edit, 7/18/07
Chapter Twelve: A Night in Granny's Thyme Patch
Time: July 1, 1979
Midnight had passed into the first day of July as Sirius approached the rear of the McNiven's cabin on foot. He'd apparated to the North pasture as soon as Sapphire and Granny M had retired into the cabin after super, and had been hard at work ever since. He was feeling quite proud of his good deed, if rather foot sore. (Oh, how he had wished for a broom!) That hay would surely sleep like owl down tonight.
Since Wednesday, he had not stopped thinking about Jake Morton; the way he had threatened Sapphire's person as well as his claims on her granny's land, coupled with the fear he had seen (and, with a dog's nose, smelled) from Sapphire, had troubled his mind. Hints he had picked up from the women that Morton might be planning to frame the McNiven's for growing pot, combined with the nagging thought that Morton might now spread the word the Sapphire was a witch - true or not, it could be equally disastrous - had made up his mind; so, the last night before he departed for home, he placed a seven year ward on the McNiven's north pasture. Obtaining a big chunk of fence post from land that really did belong to the Mortons, he splintered it all across the Morton/McNiven boundary - a tediously long walk - as well as the opening to the McNiven's driveway. If any member of the Morton clan attempted to cross into the McNiven's land, the ward would turn him back the way he had come.
Sirius wasn't worried that the Mortons would get lost in the woods - after all, they would be turned back to either the main road or their own property. At first, it did bother him that he was surely preventing Jake's father, the sheriff, from reaching the cabin; but when he tried to ask what sort of aid the local sheriff might supply in case of trouble, Sapphire wrinkled her nose and declared she'd as soon ask a copperhead snake for a kiss as ask a Morton for help.
Sapphire had elaborated. "When Granny and Grandpa lived in town so Daddy could go to school, they rented the farm to the Mortons. When the barn burned, they said it was lightning; but we're pretty sure the Morton's set fire to it on purpose." The motive, according to her, was to get the McNivens to sell the land; but the McNivens had returned, although they had never been able to rebuild the barn or replace the Model D tractor* that had supposedly burned with it, and the farm's income had suffered as a result. "They had spent most of their savings, and Grandpa was too old by then to almost start over, so he just worked the South fields with a mule and kept a few pigs that could shelter in the woods if the weather got bad."
Why had the McNivens set no wards against the Mortons, Sirius wondered? Had he been wrong; could this woman who had so entranced him with her voice, and her granny both be squibs, or even muggles? Perhaps there was some local wizard's law prohibiting the ward - he'd heard of stranger things - or perhaps the McNivens hadn't the knowledge. He had finally fixed on this last idea.
Granny had told of attending the local one room school - muggle for sure - and claimed her schooling ended at age thirteen. Even if she had attended a wizarding school for some of those years, she would not likely have learned wards by that age. Sapphire claimed four years of muggle college, and anticipated two more. The nearest wizarding grade school he knew of was a day school in Atlanta - too far for a daily commute, even with a fast broom. (American wizards seemed to gravitate toward large cities for their schools, with the necessary owl traffic enchanted to resemble common pigeons and disillusioned house elves tending the doors.) If it were true that boarding schools were not popular in the states, and considering how attached Sapphire seemed to her granny, then her magical education could be entirely homespun. If it were long on practical potions and short on defensive spells, that would be no surprise.
With that thought in mind, Sirius had taken it upon himself to prevent the Morton's from doing further damage to his new friends.
He summoned a cool drink of water from the well behind the house; no point in waking the dead with that noisy pump handle. Now, he rounded the long side of the cabin. He slowed his steps; there was a faint pool of flickering light spilling off the side of the front porch. Someone else was up late. A few more steps, and he saw Granny M's face; by the light of her candle it looked as deeply valleyed and creased as the mountains she lived in. She was seated in her rocker, a paring knife in one hand and a root in the other. Flows of wax almost over topped her stubby candle, and two piles of Ginseng lay on either side of her. He felt a twig give under his foot with a snap and a soft scuff of his boot. The old woman looked up.
"Sirius?" she called softly into the dark. Her voice was a worn thin version of Sapphire's.
"Yes, Ma'am?" he answered, also softly.
"Can't you sleep?"
"Just a trip to the loo." Had she noticed he'd been gone for hours?
Granny snorted, "You'll confuse that old outhouse with yer fancy English names."
Sirius laughed, and Granny shushed him. "Don't wake Sapphire. She'll start in again fussin' at me fer stayin' up all night."
Not bothering with the steps, Sirius levered himself up onto the porch floor and sat at her feet. "Do you stay up all night often?"
"Now an' then."
"Don't you get tired?"
"Honey, at ninety-four I don't GET tired - I done GOT!"
Sirius' laugh was shushed again. "I'd be happy to help you with whatever you're doing, so you won't have to stay up any later," he offered, eyeing the larger and smaller piles of Ginseng she had made.
"Any earlier, ya' mean," Granny said, her accompanying grin lurching weirdly as a little breeze worried the candle flame. "An' I don't have t' stay up. Don't have t' do this at all, if'n I don't want. Sapphire's perfectly capable, and would keep me from liftin' a finger if I 'llowed her. No, I like sittin' out in th' night." She studied Sirius for a moment with such a penetrating look that he began involuntarily smoothing the floor planks with his palm. "I want t' remember the sounds of this place at all hours, you see," she finally said. " The smells, too. I want to have my enjoyment of 'em while I can. There'll be time for sleep later, I believe."
Sirius had no answer for her, so only nodded, "Oh."
Granny studied him for another little while. "If'n you're tired, go on back to bed. You don't have t' sit up the livelong night listenin' to an old woman talk nonsense."
"No, I don't mind; I mean, it's nice out here, and ... well, what I'm trying to say is, I can't imagine you talking nonsense. I could listen to you on and on. I mean, for real." Sirius was babbling, but he didn't care; he didn't want to be dismissed. He suspected the old woman had something important to say, and he was bound to hear it.
Granny's answering grin was barely detectable by the now guttering candle, but the mischief in her voice was plain as day. "You may be sorry ya' said that; but since ya' did, how about takin' an old woman fer a little stroll?"
"Um, sure... OK," Sirius stammered, surprised.
"Help me down." Granny rose stiffly from her seat. "It's been a right long while since I had a good look at th' summer stars. That little storm we got yesterd'y will've cleared the air, and this may be my last good chance."
Sirius answered her nothing, but offered his right arm, and Granny gripped it with both hands as she descended the steps. Once down, she retrieved her cane with her right hand, and continued to hold Sirius' arm with her left as she directed him around the porch and behind the cabin. There, they followed a little dirt track through the pasture gate. Jack, dozing under a red oak, gave them a sleepy look and closed his eyes again. As they emerged into the open field, Sirius looked down on Granny's head. Her back was bowed now, but it was obvious she had never been tall. He noted, also, how much black persisted in the old woman's hair. In her youth, she must have looked much like Sapphire.
As though sensing his thoughts, Granny spoke. "When my husband Ollie and I first lived here, I'd come out on warm nights and watch th' stars fer hours. The first time he woke up an' missed me, he thought I'd gone out to th' privy; but when I didn't come back fer a spell, he came lookin' fer me. I heard him a'hollerin' all over, so I hollered back fer him to quiet down and come back here. When he found me, he called me a crazy Indian who'd rather sleep on th' hard ground than a goose down mattress. I had t' do some persuadin', but I got him t' stay out with me a bit, and I told him some of th' stories in th' stars; and the wild thyme that scatters through the grass back here just smells s'purty when ya' lie on it. Well, it wasn't two weeks till I was out here again, and here comes Ollie with a blanket over his arm, and just as quiet as he can be. He didn't say any more about 'crazy'." Granny chuckled, and pointed to a big, flat rock near the center of the field. "Later on, when my John was a baby, if'n he got colicky and wanted t' cry all night, I'd wrap him up and bring him out here, too. Lot'sa times, he'd quiet right down. I always told baby John that I'd picked him out of th' thyme patch, which is prob'bly not so far from the truth." She chuckled again. "I'm not embarrassin' you, am I, young fellow?"
"Er, no ma'am." Actually, Sirius was glad she couldn't see him blush in the dim light, for he'd been having his own very private thoughts about watching stars with a pretty girl beside him. Astronomy had always been one of his favorite school subjects - he would have excelled at it even without the side benefits of getting to help the girls with their homework. (In his sixth year, a couple of seventh year girls had discovered he was reading a year ahead of his class, and asked him to tutor them. Up on the astronomy tower, he'd learned a few things from them, too!) The stars here were the brightest he'd seen anywhere aside from Hogwart's tower, and they evoked generous amounts of pleasant memories. He'd just gotten around to wondering if Sapphire ever came out to lie in the wild thyme. That was a thought he intended to think on further. For the moment, thought, he was helping Granny settle on the boulder. ("My legs don't hold me up so well as they used to, and if'n I lie down, you may not git me up again!")
Once she was settled, and Sirius had rested his back against the side of the rock, Granny continued. "I'm going to miss this place fer sure. We lived in town fer twelve years while John went to school - didn't want him t' drop out at thirteen like I had to - but I was sure glad t' come back. Sapphire says we'll come back next summer, but I'm not countin' those chickens before they hatch. " Granny paused and let the crickets fill in for a while.
Sirius was afraid to inquire about why she might not return, so he asked, "Why are you leaving?"
"My son and daughter-in-law say it's too dangerous t'come up here in the winter when there's ice on the back roads, and what if I fall or get sick? What then? Well, I could tell 'em I'm going t' die of somethin' or other, and sooner, rather than later, and that it ought to be up to me where I do it; but I suppose that'd be hateful of me. I know they would feel bad if I died up here by myself, and they weren't around to do something about it - now isn't that a good joke, as if they could stop death from coming fer an old carcass like me! Anyway, my Sapphire has rented herself an apartment with two bedrooms right near the university - and not far from th' hospital either, I notice - and she's got it all planned fer me to move in with her. Well, who can complain about a granddaughter that wants to keep you that close? Her company'll be good compensation fer leavin' my home, and I'll admit it does get a bit lonesome up here by myself.
Sirius asked, "Doesn't Sapphire stay here all the time?"
"Oh, no, honey. She goes t' school in the city during the winter. 'Course last year, she finished her degree, and she stayed here all winter then. She says she wants t' save a little money before she goes after her Master's, but I think she really just wants t' keep an eye on me. I told her not t' put off her education on my account, but she insists that she'll learn more from me than school. Now, I tell 'er what she learns from me may not count fer much to other folks. You know, I learned t' birth babies from my mother and grandmother, but it's against the law fer me to do it without a piece of paper sayin' I've had the right schooling. When Earl and Sapphire were born, I wasn't even allowed in th' room! No, the old knowledge doesn't count fer much these days.
"But I was sayin', at my age, only a fool's afraid of death. My cup has been filled t' overflowing, and askin' fer more would just seem downright greedy - but you be sure I'm going t' relish every last drop before it's empty; to do otherwise'd be ungrateful."
Granny turned her face and looked at Sirius. "Always be grateful fer what ya have, if ya want to be happy. Ingratitude makes a body hardhearted an' mean. Take my daughter-in-law fer instance; she doesn't know how t' be happy. She never wants what she has; always takes on about wantin' a bigger house or a newer car, when it's plain t'see that what she has is more than plenty. My John is a good husband to her, but seems like a day can't pass that she doesn't think of some way she wishes he were that he isn't, or some way she wishes he weren't that he is. And wasteful, I tell you! I once sent them four pint jars of blackberry preserves I'd canned - blackberry is my John's favorite, ya' see - and if she didn't put every last jar in the trash! 'Too old', she said. Well, I know those preserves were still good. If you put somethin' up properly, I don't see how a few years sittin' in the cellar will do it any harm. Didn't even bother t' save the jars, she didn't!"
Sirius felt it was best to refrain from comment, but Granny didn't seem to notice his silence. She continued, "And Earl, my grandson; he's caught that attitude from his mother I reckon. He throws away money like he was made of it - which he's not, I can tell ya'. I'm mighty afraid a good bit of it goes t' drink an' dope. I tell Earl he ought to appreciate the strong body God gave him and try t' live right, but he doesn't listen. He could've gotten a good education - after he got out of th' army they would've helped pay fer it, but he'd rather have some two-bit job so he can start drinkin' as soon as he gets off and spend what's left of his money on some girl he'll ferget next week. Sapphire says the war made him that way, but I say he already had th' habit.
"Now, Sapphire, she's different. She's like my John, always seein' the worth in a thing. She's not wasteful. If you give her a pretty package, she'll take off the paper gentle like and put it back for usin' later - she was that way from almost the time she could walk - and she always wants t' know ever'thin' about ever'thin'. It's a joy fer her t' know even th' most common thing fer what it is an' see the wonder in it. That's why I say she's a born healer. She's got a gift fer seein' right to th' heart of things, be it 'n herb or a critter or a person. She doesn't want it t' be something else, so she sees it fer what it is. I tell you, she has a gift. It sets her apart from other folk. Do you understand what I mean?"
"I think so," Sirius responded cautiously. Just what was Granny trying to tell him about her granddaughter? Was Sapphire a lone witch in this family? While he pondered, Granny continued.
"She doesn't go runnin' after the boys, either. Oh, there are plenty that would like t' keep company with a purty girl like her - course, she don't meet many boys out here in these woods - but she has other things t' occupy her mind with. I reckon she'll be like I was; when she finally meets th' right fella, she'll know what she wants and she'll stick with it. I never did let a fella' court me serious like till I met my Ollie, but I knew he was fer me almost from the day we met. I couldn't 've asked fer better."
Granny looked down at Sirius again. "What about you, young man; do you have a particular girlfriend?"
Sirius was a bit startled at the sudden turn in the conversation. "Uh, no ma'am. Not a particular one." He was relieved when she asked for no more details about his love life.
"Well, you're young yet, I suppose," Granny continued. "'Course, time was, they thought a woman was an old maid if she wasn't married by twenty-one or thereabouts - but you have to do what suits you. I didn't marry until I was in my thirties. They all thought I wouldn't, but I fool'd 'em!" Granny chuckled. "Now, Sapphire, she's twenty-two, but she plans on gettin' a bit more schoolin' before she settles down. With gifts like hers, it only makes sense - she'll live a different life from or'n'ry folk. "
So, Sirius thought, Sapphire was three years his senior. He decided to add a couple of years to his age if they asked. He was tall enough to pull it off, and he wouldn't want such a pretty lady to dismiss him as too young for a snog. Granny had as good as told him she was picky about her boyfriends, but Sirius could think of a couple of occasions when he had managed to obtain the reputedly "unattainable" woman. Sometimes standoffishness was only a veil for shyness - or a sidelong invitation to be energetically pursued. He had nothing to lose by trying, now did he?
Sirius was dreaming of beautiful, inscrutable older women when Granny shook him awake. He was cold, damp, and his back was stiff. The creeping of the stars told him they'd been there over an hour. "We'd better go back before Sapphire misses us," Granny said.
Neither of them was very steady as they rounded the corner of the cabin and approached the porch steps - Sirius was half asleep and a bit lame from sitting on the ground so long, and Granny's feet were swollen enough to make her hobble. He had the hilarious thought that he and James staggering home from a late party had looked somewhat like this, only James would be taller and minus the hair bun. He helped Granny up the stairs - it seemed to take forever - and had just reached for the cabin door when it opened of it's own accord.
"What now!" Sapphire was standing in the kitchen with a robe over her nightgown. Her hair was pulling out of it's braid and fell across her shoulders and chest with fetching abandon. He resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the wayward tresses; their owner looked very tired and cross.
"Where have you been!" she addressed this to Granny, and began shaking her head.
"Now, Sapphire, I had Sirius help me out to th' back pasture so I could watch th' stars a while..."
"You should be in bed - look, you can barely walk, your feet are so puffy - and if you wanted to go out back, I could've taken you." Sapphire seemed not disturbed by her non sequitor. She was clearly worried about her Granny.
"Now that you're safely inside, I think I'll say 'goodnight'," Sirius interjected. He nodded at Sapphire and quickly removed himself from the brewing argument. Granny thanked him with a smile; Sapphire paid him no attention at all. The sound of their fussing followed him half way to the hay shed.
@ 3646 words on 07/17/07
* The Model D should be a Dain - John Deere, c. 1924 I think.
Lights flickered all over Hogwarts. Inside, the students were allowed out of their Houses, but no one was to leave the building and the staff was scrambling. Spells were cast and recast. Wards were tested and strengthened. Unused parts of the castle were sealed off. From a distance, the whole castle glowed with different sparks of color.
Any Muggle who made it close enough to see wouldve been baffled and probably awed to see the shimmers coming from the ruin. It was eerily beautiful, like Northern Lights on the mist. The only eyes that could see Hogwarts from the outside weren't able to appreciate the light show.
Red eyes squinted at the castle from beneath a very deep, very thick hood, and from behind a pair of glasses tinted black. Brohm had learned something from the hunter that had come after him, and while it didn't spare him the pain of daylight, it did keep his eyes from dissolving in their sockets.
He was draped in layer upon layer of thick fabric and stood only a pace from one of the tunnels. He hadn't been out in the sunlight since. . . It didn't even matter how long. He hated feeling so small and exposed under the sky, and angry that it could make him feel anything at all. He blamed it on his new body, which was slighter than his original one.
Brohm had been a tall, broad-shouldered man. He had been physically powerful in life, and even more so as a vampire. Like a lion, one of his admirers had said. In the body of the young Nalicus, he was more like sight hound, he thought. Not that that mattered either. It was just his pride, left over from human days. He had always been intimidating. It was merely annoying to appear weaker than he had been, and it didn't change the power he had.
"Lord. .?" hissed one of his followers from the tunnel. "Forgive me. I can't bear much more. . ."
"You may return," Brohm answered. Even his new voice felt light and weak. It would take some practice to get his rumbling purr back. Like all his kind that lived to his age(and there weren't that many) he didn't care for sudden change. He liked to watch things brew for a few years before they leapt into action.
"I would be too ashamed to leave you, Lord. . ." The apologetic hiss pulled him away from his own thoughts.
"You aren't by my side now," he reminded it, not sharply enough to hurt yet. His eyes were burning now, the moisture that filled them too red to be tears.
There was silence from the tunnel after that. The follower wasn't ashamed enough to venture into the sunlight, but didn't dare go home alone. He could sense it lurking there in the shadows just inside the tunnel. It was as muffled in cloaks as he was, cringing from the weak gray light that made it through the clouds. Even Brohm knew better than to have gone out in the daytime if the sky had been clear.
As it was, the clouds hung heavy with snow over the castle. There would be more snow by morning. Temperatures didn't matter to Brohm anymore, but he liked the smell of snow. The purity of it appealed to him. Perhaps it reminded him of his youth in the desert, he thought, amused a fraction before the whisper of his underling distracted him again.
"What is it, Lord?" It asked after another moment.
"A place," Brohm answered. "This flesh remembers it from his boyhood. . . not altogether fondly, but that is to be expected."
"Forgive us, Lord. . . The flesh we found to house you is not perfect. Not worthy."
Brohm's vision blurred and he closed his eyes for a moment to let them recover. Despite the pain, his voice was calm.
"Hush, childe. Oaks from acorns, eagles from eggs."
The underling would have gone on, but Brohm was through listening and froze the creature's vocal cords. A monster that didn't breathe couldn't choke, but the sensation was unpleasant.
"No," Brohm said, still speaking casually. "This flesh will suffice. If I'm to deal with magic-users, wearing the body of one their own may well be the best way."
He gave Hogwarts a final searching look, then finally turned to duck back into the tunnel. The underling pulled the hidden door down over it, and shut them into the darkness. Brohm sensed the curiosity in his servant, but didn't bother to enlighten it. It wasn't quite brave enough to risk speaking again.
Brohm had found himself in an unfamiliar country, in an unfamiliar skin. The magic-using humans had kept the non-magical humans so carefully in the dark that they would probably barely notice vampires among them anymore. The Magic-users themselves were just as easily manipulated. They only lived a little while, and their arrogance in their superiority made them blind to things prey animals should notice.
Domesticated, he thought. It happened. Complacence was inevitable when they hadn't been hunted in so long. It had been hundreds of years since a Vampire Lord had ruled in Europe. It was due. The first thing he would need was a castle.
Lorelei went out to meet Padfoot. She got his attention, then slipped out of sight so no one would see him change back. When the black dog became the ragged wizard, they both spoke at once.
"What did you do? Esme's gone!"
"There are vampires in the woods!"
"What?" They both said, stopping in confusion. Their faces went in opposite expressions. A grin split Sirius' face, while Lorelei's froze in horror.
"She got away!?"
"The vampires are here??"
"No, tell me about Esme. What happened?"
"I - I didn't see. But they said she was there, and then she was gone!"
"Haha! Good! I knew she could do it." He sobered quickly. "All right, now, listen. The Nalicus family had a hunting cabin on the other side of the Forest. It's crawling with vampires."
"How do you know?"
"I followed Rosie and Raye there."
Fear became fury in Lorelei's eyes, but she didn't let the change make it to her face. Her voice went as cold as the wind.
"Were you bitten?"
"No, just scratched." He half-turned to show his bloodied back. "The one who grabbed me thought I was a werewolf."
"Did it taste your blood?"
"Um. Yes. I think so. I saw her lick her fingers." The silence that greeted that statement went on so long it made him nervous. "Is that as bad as being bitten?"
"No," she said at once. "No, I'm sorry. But it isn't good. If she can taste you, she can know you, in a way. You mustn't go back there. If she has made part of you a part of herself, you won't be able to get away from her again."
"I wasn't planning on going back," he grumbled, trying not to let on that she was unnerving him.
"I'm pretending you're Esme," she said with a very faint smile. "And what I'm telling you is true. You must not go back there. If she was young and stupid enough to mistake a Tranfigured human for a werewolf, she might not be able to destroy you, but she'll try, Mr. Black. You might only be practice for the victim she does destroy, but that won't be much comfort."
"Neither are you, at the moment!" he half-growled.
"I'm supposed to be looking for Esme," she said, ignoring that. "If you see her before I do, try to keep out of sight."
"And you stay inside the wards." It was only fair to unnerve her right back, Sirius figured. "I don't know if Brohm is with the bunch at the cabin, but better safe inside, right?"
"Right," she said softly. The fear came back and he was almost sorry he'd said it when she looked past him at the dark Forest before hurrying inside. But then, his mind turned to her sister. Where would Esme go? Back to their roomy broom closet if she couldn't get out of the castle.
And if she could get out? There was only place he knew of that she'd been. He dropped back to Padfoot and started off to his cave.