A Model

Chapter 10

Black Box

Even though the historical section of the Hogwarts Library was considered the safest to use of any of the subject areas, it had been lavished with a particular fearsome set of shelves. Each was decorated with a gargoyle that pulled nasty faces when books were carried away.

Hermione made a tutting noise as Ron stuck his tongue out at the statue. The creature seemed unhappy that she had pulled out an intimidatingly huge tome set with gold letters. She rolled her eyes at Ron while dropping the book onto the already large stack in his arms. She was reading off of a parchment list and moving down the shelves collecting as she went. Ron got to be the beast of burden and the stack was getting dangerously close to his eyes.

Ron wrinkled his nose as the now familiar old-moldering-book odor rose from the latest addition. For some reason it wasn´t as dusty as the other books. He squinted at the cover. A Compendium of Modeling Mages: Oneiromancers Through the Ages was splayed boldly across the top. A tiny half-lidded eye was set in the center of the "O" in Oneiromancers.

Blech! Do people actually read things called Compendiums? Or is Hermione going to scan for the interesting bits?

Hermione added another book to the stack and the gargoyle bared its teeth.

Ron straightened slightly and told himself he wasn´t going to drop the whole lot on the floor. "What´s wrong with him? Don´t they want people to read these books?" Hermione shrugged and made to hand him another. Deciding that the situation had reached crisis level, Ron vigorously shook his head. "No. If I carry anything else, my spine will snap in half."

Hermione sighed and tucked the book under her arm. "I suppose we have enough for now," she said doubtfully. "It will take me some time to get through all of these anyway." She smiled up at him. "Maybe one more?" she coaxed.

Realizing that a laugh would send everything crashing to the floor, Ron choked his down. Hermione´s hair had flecks of dust in it and looked as if it was planning on standing on end in a few moments. She had a smudge on her cheek where she´d touched her face with dusty hands. He was carrying nine extremely fat books and she had a tenth with her. Making his face serious, he shook his head, almost putting out an eye on the corner of a book. "I think that ten is more than enough for now," he said solemnly.

Hermione shrugged, taking his comment at face value, and reluctantly acquiesced. Realizing that he could barely see over his stack, she took his elbow and began pulling him back to their table. He followed her, swaying from side to side in order to balance his book tower. When they reached their destination, Ron carefully lowered his load down with a relieved sigh. Hermione dropped into the nearest chair and scowled at the stack. "I wish Harry had gotten a little more information out of Headmaster Dumbledore. The name, `Selim Crowlet,´ isn´t very illuminating."

Ron knuckled his back. "Harry probably had other things on his mind," he answered wearily. She grimaced at him, but didn´t respond.

It had been Ron who overrode Hermione´s attempts to quiz Harry about Crowlet. Ron had sent his friend off to Quidditch practice, knowing that physical exhaustion would be miles better for Harry than mental collapse.

Hermione pulled out A Survey of the Arts Dark Magical and flipped back to the index. "And I don´t even know where to look for his model! Under Imperius Curse? Oneiromancy?"

Ron didn´t answer. He knew that the questions weren´t for his benefit. Pulling out the Arithmancy text Academic Merriman had given him, he frowned at his work and wondered if any of it was correct. Hermione had planned on checking over it for him, before he went to see Merriman again, but Harry´s new problem had taken precedence.

He shoved down an extremely unworthy feeling of resentment and tried to focus on his work. Ron knew that any jealousy was foolish. Harry was clearly miserable. His godfather was trapped into being a fugitive and an evil genius wanted him dead, using elaborate means to go about it. Ron had seen the worried panic in his friend´s eyes when he described the newest situation to them. He could honestly say that he was frantically worried for Harry. He knew Harry got no pleasure from the attention.

But he was still a little jealous. Angrily turning a page, Ron glanced at Hermione. She had a wrinkle between her brows and was noting something down a piece of parchment. He shifted his shoulders. The problem was that he had got a taste of being the focus of everyone else, but hadn´t had to worry about the negatives. It was exciting to meet people in secret when danger wasn´t a problem. It was a little bit fun to be able to reveal surprising things to his friends.

It was nice to have Hermione focus all of her attention on something that was entirely to do with him.

But Harry´s problems took precedence. Harry´s problems should take precedence. And though Ron didn´t want to feel envious, he did. It wasn´t fair and it wasn´t right. It didn´t even really make sense - Ron certainly didn´t want to be the target of You-Know-Who´s anger - nevertheless, the feeling was there.

But then, Ron had never really had a firm grasp on his feelings. Even when they make me feel sick.

His only consolation was that he hadn´t acted on his jealousy in any way. Harry didn´t deserve to have his troubles added to right now and he couldn´t bear the thought of Hermione knowing.

An exclamation from Hermione brought him out of his guilty thoughts. "Found him! Selim Crowlet was thrown out of the Academy for ummm ... `actions of or relating to the Dark Arts´." She frowned. "He wrote a book called Triumph Over the Will only we won´t be able to read it because it is classified as a Level 1 Banned Book." Ron pursed his lips in a silent whistle. Ownership of Level 1 books meant confiscation of property and a mandatory term in Azkaban. The only one he had ever heard of on the list was The Necronomicon.

Hermione´s eyes were sliding down the page, scanning for information. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "It basically says what we already know. He tried to control people through his model. But it doesn´t say how the model does it." She reached for the Survey. "It really does sound like a long-distance Imperius curse," she said doubtfully.

Ron summoned up a smile for her frustrated expression. "So it makes you do stuff."

He could tell Hermione was annoyed because her lips pursed up so teacherishly. "Actually Ron, Imperio makes you want to do stuff. Though it comes to the same thing, I suppose."

Ron shrugged. It did come to the same thing.

She shut the book with a clap and a cloud of dust lifted from it. Ron stifled a sneeze. His nose was healed from his encounter with Crabbe and Goyle, but still had moments of odd tenderness. "At least Harry already seems very good at resisting Imperio," Hermione said unhappily.

"Unlike me." The words were out before Ron could hold them back. He felt his face growing hot. Can´t I go five minutes straight without saying something I don´t want to?

Hermione seemed unfazed. Her eyes were fixed on the page of another book whose title he hadn´t caught. "Well that´s because Harry´s more strong-willed than emotional, isn´t he? Imperio controls the desires and passions. You´re a very passionate person."

It took Ron a moment to get his mind around the fact that Hermione had buried a compliment in her comment. He grinned at her. "I´m a passionate person?"

She blushed hotly. Her hair had fulfilled its earlier promise and was puffing out making her look like an aggressively bristling cat. Very cute. And very nice to have someone else say something stupid.

Her nose went up in the air. "What I meant was that you´re a person who doesn´t have any common sense," she said with great dignity. Ron didn´t think it was possible for his smile to get any wider, but it did. Hermione looked down at her notes, her face still rosy. "Just give me your Arithmancy papers so I can look at them and you can leave! I can´t study with you around."

That wiped the smile off Ron´s face but not because he was unhappy. "You want to see my work?" His voice cracked at the end and he cursed silently.

Hermione now looked annoyed. "Oh don´t say you haven´t done it Ron! You´re meeting with Academic Merriman at seven o´clock and I told you I was going to look at it now the last time we met to study. Its terribly ..."

Deciding that he wasn´t going to allow himself to be berated about how rude he was to not do something he´d actually done, Ron waved his hands frantically. "Hermione! I did the Arithmancy." He made a weak gesture towards the oneiromancy and Dark Arts books and tried not to sound too pathetic. "I just assumed you would be ... busy with Ha ... other things."

There was a short pause in which Ron wondered wildly if his face was going to catch fire. Hermione´s dark eyes were narrowed and her expression was uncomfortably shrewd.

When she finally spoke she seemed to choose her words carefully. "Ron, I promised you I would help you with Arithmancy. I want to help you with Arithmancy." She ran a hand through her wild hair. "Harry being in trouble again doesn´t change that!"

Something tight in Ron´s chest loosened. It was somewhat unsettling to find that most of his resentment of Harry had risen from the loss of Hermione´s help.

And her time.

He ruthlessly squashed the thought and stared at the tabletop. Some student before him had begun carving "Professor Packletide is a bas ..." into the wood. Ron ran his finger over the words. "I would understand if it did. Change things I mean." He could feel his ears pinking up. He tried to make his voice light and casual. "Harry needs the help more than I do. You´re still the busiest witch of our Year. And we have OWLs soon." He trailed off and suffered through another uncomfortable pause.

There was a faint rustling of paper and then a piece of parchment was pushed into his view. It seemed to be a chart of some sort. He looked questioningly up at Hermione who had a small, satisfied smile on her face.

"It all in the scheduling Ron." He realized she was showing him her calendar. "You´ll notice that I fit in time for SPEW as well as you and Harry." She pulled back her schedule and set it neatly next to the pile of books again. "Of course I will probably be very grumpy next week ... and the week after that ... and the week after that, but I think that I can manage." Her lips twitched but her eyes were warm. "Though if something really catastrophic happens, I think that I may be in a little bit of trouble. I couldn´t really decide where to put our time to be in mortal peril." She was giggling by the end.

Ron couldn´t really blame her. He could feel his face twisting itself into a picture of gratification and befuddlement.

Surrendering to her happiness, he laughed back, though he felt a chill at the same time. There was a disquieting truth to Hermione´s last comment. Horrible danger had a quality of inevitability now that it hadn´t had before then end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Trying to keep a hold on his good mood, he pushed his work over to her and set himself to pay close attention to her comments. Even the basic Arithmancy he was doing required a huge amount of effort on his part. But he vaguely hoped that if he was confused he could avoid feeling anxious.

* * *

Academic Merriman´s office was just as Ron had remembered it. He´d gone inside without permission after he´d knocked, received no answer, and decided that standing in a dusty corridor with only a wizard portrait behind a curtain for company was worse than walking in on an irritated oneiromancer uninvited. He found the room dark with only a single candle burning encouragingly next to a can of Floo powder. In the flickering light of the candle and the fire, the salamanders on the fireplace and shelves seemed to be wriggling. Ron was almost certain he saw an eyelid twitch at him.

Ron also noticed that there was large painting above the mantle of an enormous lizard sunning itself on a rock. As he cautiously approached the fireplace, its eyes opened lazily and its tongue flicked.

Ron shuddered as he saw the creature snap a fly into its mouth. Grabbing a fistful of silver powder and trying not to feel so fly-like himself, Ron fervently hoped that Academic Merriman would be satisfied by his report on Scabbers/Pettigrew and his Arithmancy problems.

He came through fireplace coughing and realized that he hadn´t covered his stack of papers, which were now as coated in ash as he was. He squinted around the brightly lit chamber and patted at his robes trying to make himself look less like he´d crawled instead of walked to the room.

When he realized that he wouldn´t be able to do much about his robes and that a neatening spell would do for the papers, Ron glanced around. The model was particularly interesting because it was beginning to look like something other than a child´s hopscotch game. A gossamer sheet with a hole cut out of the middle hung from the ceiling on one end and a string of newspaper jack-o´-lantern cutouts were strung across another. Strangest of all was the long rope of colored beads that stretched from the floor to ceiling in a taut line.

Even though Ron hadn´t made any effort to be quiet, Academic Merriman and Professor Lupin - Mr. Lupin, now - didn´t notice him at first. They were standing at one of the odder corners of the room in the midst of what Ron´s mother called, when she was feeling particularly tactful or embarrassed, "a heated discussion."

Lupin was speaking. He had the air of someone who was repeating himself for the thousandth time. "... hardly merits a bonus!"

Academic Merriman shrugged. Her voice was deceptively light with an undertone of frustration, "Of course it does! I had to hire you at short notice because my secretary was ill. That means premium wages!" She dropped into a crouch and made some sort of change to the model. "I don´t understand why you´re upset about this, Remus. More money is always good."

Ron had never thought it possible to hear teeth grinding from across a room, nor had he thought that he´d ever see his even-tempered Professor look ready to kick a wall. It was rather cool to have both happen at once. But it also squashed any desire Ron might have had to make his presence known. Aside from his curiosity, he didn´t want to draw any attention to himself.

"It´s not good, if it means you get in trouble with the Academy. I spent the whole time I was earning these premium wages flat on my back in the Hospital Wing!" Lupin snapped.

There was a short silence. Academic Merriman hauled up what looked like a cardboard cutout. Then she looked Lupin straight in the eye. Her voice had lost the amused note and was carefully serious. "Remus, if the Academy finds out that I was paying you to replace yourself," -This made Ron blink and stifle a "huh?" - "they won´t care what you were doing. I could have set you to scrubbing floors with a toothbrush or had you navigating forests of knives, they´d still be equally ... annoyed." She dusted off her knees. "And I think that a little more money is a small repayment for the insult," she said quietly.

Whatever Lupin planned on saying was left unspoken because Academic Merriman´s eyes moved past his shoulder and fixed on Ron. "Mr. Weasley!" She sounded surprised and a little embarrassed.

He smiled nervously across the room at her and tried to look as if he´d just arrived. Mr. Lupin whipped around at Merriman´s words. He had his usual weary expression but now his pale face was slightly flushed.

"Uh Hello ... I ... your office was open and ... uh ... the Floo powder was set up so I ..." Ron cursed himself. His voice was cracking all over the place. I sound a lot guiltier than I really am!

Professor Lupin gave him an encouraging smile, having quickly recovered from his own embarrassment and also seeming to understand the tortures of male adolescence. Academic Merriman apparently wasn´t listening to him the first place. She was hurrying across the room towards Ron, her eyes fixed almost hungrily on the stack of papers he was clutching to his chest.

"You have your Scabbers information ready?" Her pale eyes drilled into him.

Not trusting his voice, Ron nodded and shoved his burden towards her. As she flipped through them her eyebrows rose and she nodded approvingly.

When Merriman had been injured, Lupin had sent him the questionnaires and told him to have the answers ready by the time he was supposed to report. Now Ron silently blessed Hermione for her insistence that he answer each question exhaustively.

He had complained that she was only supposed to be helping him with the Arithmancy side of things and she´d told him roundly that the model process was as much her responsibility as his. Hermione even answered some of the questions.

While Merriman was reading, Lupin walked up to stand behind her. He smiled warmly at Ron and then frowned over her shoulder at the papers, his eyes scanning down the page as well. Academic Merriman seemed completely engrossed in what she was reading. Ron shifted his feet and looked around the room, wondering if he should sit down. He coughed gently, trying to get someone´s attention.

To Ron´s great relief, Professor - Mr. he´d have to remember that - Lupin looked up and saw his uneasiness. He gently nudged Academic Merriman who glanced up, her lips pursed with annoyance at being interrupted.

It seemed to take her a moment to understand, her face only clearing after a few seconds. "Oh! I forgot you were there!"

She handed the papers to Lupin and went to the desk, where she began rooting around. Impatiently waving Ron over, she set out several sheets of paper that he recognized with a sinking heart to be yet more questionnaires. Seeing the less than enthusiastic look on his face, her lips tilted up in an amused half smile. Ron figured she was probably pretty used to people grimacing at the sight of her papers.

"Don´t worry Mr. Weasley," she said dryly, "these are the last of the papers you will need to fill out." She looked over at Lupin who was flicking through Ron´s Scabbers report. "Remus already finished his." Her eyes swung back to Ron´s, they seemed to glow with excitement. "After your information is added, we can stop worrying up the bones of the model. This is the fastest I have ever worked. I should arrange to have a generous supply of Witnesses more often," she said gleefully.

Ron nodded weakly and shifted in his seat. He looked at the large stack unhappily.

There has to be twenty pages here! I´ll be stuck in this room all night.

He grabbed a quill and set to work.

"Did your brother really feed his rat on barley water?"

The question was so sudden and so nonsensical that Ron wondered at first if he had imagined it or at least misunderstood. After quickly running back over the words, he decided that he had heard correctly and tried to come up with an answer that made more sense than the question.

"Apparently it was a special diet?" Merriman´s voice was impatient.

Oh thanks! That´s useful! Who would feed a rat barley water and not call it a special diet?

"This would have been many years ago and lasted about a month," Lupin said mildly. He sounded sympathetic.

Probably used to being asked crazy questions, Ron thought, beginning to feel a little frustrated. How would I know how Percy was torturing his rat? He was always doing something ...Oh!

He answered slowly, dredging up the memory bit by bit. "He was reading some sort of book. Percy wanted to keep Scabbers to the diet, but Fred kept slipping him sweets." This part of the memory was clearest. His two brothers had had a blazing row after Percy found Scabbers with his teeth glued shut with toffee.

Merriman had been smiling at first in a satisfied way but the second comment made her frown. "The model never said that!" Her eyes narrowed. "Are you certain?"

Ron couldn´t come up with a response. He was too busy deciding whether or not he´d just been insulted.

Lupin walked over and handed Merriman back the reports. His voice was extremely dry. "Ron was there, Atropos. I think he can be trusted to know what happened."

Academic Merriman scowled at him. She looked as if she wanted to argue but couldn´t. "I suppose so," she said grudgingly. She let out a deep sigh. "It means that I´m going to need some chocolate or maybe toffee. If the model isn´t showing it by itself, I might as well force it to ..." The rest of what she was saying disappeared into a soft muttering under her breath.

Merriman returned to reading the papers again, this time more closely. When she began to wander toward a desk, her eyes still fixed on the page, Lupin caught hold of her elbow and steered her around a heap of books and fat wax candles that were piled in the middle of the floor. He met Ron´s curious gaze with an unreadable expression.

Ron felt his mouth twitching and quickly ducked his head. He didn´t think it would be wise to openly laugh at either of the adults. But he did look forward to telling Harry about the absentminded oneiromancer.

It would rather have ruined the effect of special robes and mysterious magic if she´d fallen flat on her face! Good of Lupin to grab her.

Chortling to himself and enjoying the mental picture of Academic Merriman´s pratfall, Ron tried to set his mind on the questions about Scabbers. He felt a little bit better once he´d gotten into them since they seemed to be the most interesting ones, mostly dealing with his Third Year at Hogwarts.

"Vegetables!" The shout made Ron´s head snap up from his writing. Seeing Academic Merriman looking expectantly at Lupin, Ron began to wonder if all of the time in the modeling room was spent like this - long silences broken by random phrases from the oneiromancer to be then followed by more long silences as whoever was around tried to catch up with her train of thought. He was glad to see that Lupin appeared to be as stumped by her declaration as he was.

Well, Lupin had helped him before with the barley water. Why is it always about food?

"Are you hungry?" Ron asked slowly, hoping that it would at least push her into more speech. Mr. Lupin abruptly lifted a hand to his mouth. Ron could see his eyes crinkling at the corners and realized he was hiding a smile.

Academic Merriman rolled her eyes. "Vegetables, smoke, and mirrors - a lot of other things too, but vegetables now!" she said decisively.

Well of course, thought Ron, choking down a laugh. What else would she mean?

"That´s what the Scabbers section will be." Her forehead puckered. "Remus," Lupin met her eyes, his face now completely expressionless, "do you think the house elves would send me some greens?" Ron blinked and took a deep breath, but unfortunately she went on. "Maybe peas or carrots?" Her finger tapped lightly at the desk.

Goaded beyond human endurance, Ron began helplessly laughing. After reading about battle models and chess, he had imagined graceful models elegantly predicting the future. Somehow the thought of peas and carrots hanging from the ceiling didn´t quite match very well with the dream.

Academic Merriman stared at him and Ron´s opinion of her improved tremendously when he saw her lips twitch slightly. She turned back to Lupin again and raised her eyebrows, her mouth starting to curl up at the ends.

Lupin once again proved his formidable self-control when he answered with a perfectly steady voice, "I am certain that they would be more than happy to send you even a whole salad if you need it, Atropos."

* * *

After Ron Weasley left, carrying the last of the question sheets with him, as well as a new book about battle modeling and Go, Atropos began reading over the questionnaires he had finished during his visit. Remus sat back in his chair, temporarily ignoring the letter from the Academy he was supposed to be reviewing, and tried instead to think of a way of questioning Atropos without getting her back up. He suspected he´d spent what patience she had on the argument over his salary.

He was curious. Atropos had been remarkably patient with Ron. She´d read through his battle model paper and made a few complimentary comments. She´d even explained, somewhat calmly, a few of the questions on Pettigrew, when Ron asked her for clarification.

But she´d made no mention of Crowlet and Remus felt that the boy deserved some sort of reassurance or explanation from the only person in the castle truly qualified to describe what might happen to Harry. Quite frankly, he felt he needed some sort of explanation.

Atropos seemed to feel the weight of his gaze because her eyes lifted from the paper she was reading. She stared at him for a few moments and then said flatly, "Ask." Behind her, the gossamer hanging section of the model fluttered. Remus found it somewhat unnerving that the model created its own little internal drafts.

He raised his eyebrows, "I´m sorry?"

She flicked her hair over her shoulder angrily. "You have that look on your face. Like you want to know something." Her mouth set stubbornly. "But if it´s about the money, I refuse to talk about it anymore."

Remus allowed himself a smirk. Clever of her to preempt the argument. Too bad it´s the wrong argument.

"No, I wanted to know why you didn´t talk to Ron about Selim Crowlet. Are you trying to keep it a secret?" His tone of voice suggested that the last was a forlorn hope.

For some reason the question seemed to surprise instead of annoy her. She abruptly looked away. Lifting her hand, she gestured aimlessly. "No. I know Mr. Potter probably already told him and Miss ... Granger."

A soft tinkling sound made them both look at the table. A tea tray sat on the table surrounded by papers. The house elves had set up this system when they found out Atropos and Remus worked late on the model. Remus suspected they were using the difficult Apparation-like delivery to avoid having to deal directly with the volatile oneiromancer. Because Atropos still seemed flustered by his questions, Remus went over to the tea tray to give her time to recover.

It also allowed him the chance to pass his wand over the tray for a simple poison detection spell unobserved. With Lucretius and Locusta Lestrange free and the school´s security compromised, it didn´t pay to make assumptions. Since the attack and his realization that Atropos didn´t have the first idea about how to protect herself from stealth, Remus had taken to checking her food. He also escorted her to her rooms every night. He was always careful to have a reason unrelated to protection for this. Atropos had been extremely upset by the idea of danger inside the school and Remus didn´t think that she would react well to his decision to be her impromptu bodyguard.

Though I am running out of plausible reasons to walk to a completely different end of the castle every night after work. Maybe I could get Dumbledore to move her somewhere closer? He swung his wand in an s-shape searching for curses.

Her voice broke through his second incantation. The slight unsteadiness made Remus turn around. Atropos was staring fixedly at the model. "I didn´t mention it because ... because I didn´t want to lie and I didn´t want to say anything ... demoralizing."

Remus poured out a cup of black tea and walked over to her seat. She accepted the cup from him automatically, her expression uncertain.

He summoned a chair and sat next to her. "Is it truly that bad?" he asked gently. He felt a faint stirring of disquiet. In the time he had spent with her, Remus had come to the conclusion that at least part of her vast confidence was justified.

Unfortunately though, when you begin respecting someone´s opinion, it begins effecting your own. If Atropos was worried about Crowlet, Remus was going to be as well.

She laughed humorlessly and raked a hand through her hair again. "Crowlet has Pettigrew, which means he has Potter´s infancy and school days. All he needs is the time in between." She turned back to Remus and smiled at him bitterly. "I don´t know if his model is anything like a normal one, but if it were me, I would be pretty confident of completion." Remus was startled to see something close to fear on her face. "And it´s Crowlet. I studied his model of Chairman Ramallan in school. It hasn´t failed in thirty years. Its as close to perfect as a model can get." Her pale eyes met his. "He is better at this than I am, Remus. And that was before I wasted several days - what did you call it? - `flat on my back in the Hospital Wing!´" The last was said rather violently. She angrily threw her quill. Unfortunately, its lightness meant that it only fluttered a few inches and came to rest in her lap.

They both stared at her rather uninspiring missile. Atropos laughed softly and Remus joined her, though he could tell that she was still upset. But her face was starting to become uncomfortable. He wondered if she regretted confessing to the existence of someone more skilled than she was. Deciding that she didn´t need him to witness her turmoil, he swiftly rose to his feet, but her anxious eyes forced him into speech. "Can you do anything to stop him?"

She shook her head wordlessly.

He raised his voice slightly. "Can he do anything to stop you?"

This made her look at him. Some of the tenseness on her face relaxed away. "No." She shrugged. "Well not that I know of," she admitted. Her voice was growing brighter and a little bit of her old self-assurance seemed to be coming back.

Remus nodded. He had long ago learned the necessity of picking his battles and to know where his duties lay. He might worry about Crowlet, but he wasn´t going to let either Atropos or himself worry about doing something about Crowlet. "Then let the Order deal with him," he said simply.

She looked shocked by the idea. But then Atropos probably got to pick her battles too. Except hers were no doubt always chosen out of personal desire and stubbornness. Remus smiled vaguely into her startled expression, glad that the anxiety was fading. He had found that Atropos was most easily dealt with when she was confused. The emotion usually set her to working aggressively on the model.

And now is no exception.

Self-doubt apparently replaced by confusion; she turned flusteredly away from him and began counting sacks of marbles.

Making a mental note to send an order for vegetables to the house elves, Remus walked over to the tea tray to get his own cup. He knew Atropos would be making a long night of it and he wasn´t going to leave her alone in the room.

* * *

Albus idly twirled a quill through his fingers. One of the lightening bolts on his sleeve flashed. In his portrait, Headmaster Duppycup was unashamedly picking his nose. Dumbledore mentally reminded himself for perhaps the hundredth time to have a more hygienic Headmaster placed on the wall directly facing his desk. Turning back to the subject at hand and promptly forgetting his decision about Duppycup, he asked his question slowly, more from a desire to postpone the answer than for any difficulty in speaking.

"And they´re absolutely certain?" He knew the question was ridiculous, but grasping at straws could sometimes soothe even him. He´d just received word that yet another prisoner had been replaced with a Muggle, though this time the prisoner, Desmond Durlith, left behind his middle toe. Evidently Keziah Mason had misjudged his body mass.

Sirius´s head in the fire moved slightly as if he were shrugging his shoulders. "As certain as anyone can be about a vampire, sir. None of them will even admit to having ever sampled Weasley blood. And they keep pretty accurate records of their dinners here." The man´s expression turned sour. "None of them have gone off on personal excursions either. I checked." Sirius looked slightly ill.

Dumbledore grimaced in response. He doubted that Sirius was enjoying his time spent in the frosty castle in the Carpathian Mountains, but he had sent him in the hope that it would provide Sirius with something worthwhile to do. The enforced inactivity to safeguard the model wasn´t good for anyone. This combined with worries over Harry had given Black a frantic look that Dumbledore hoped exhaustion or annoyance would drive away. It seemed to have worked, though he wasn´t certain that having Sirius immured in a castle full of vampires was a desirable side effect.

He raised his hand to stroke his beard. "So the vampires are all involved with Voldemort and not telling. Or a few are involved and not telling. Or something else wanted Ben Weasley´s blood." His mouth twisted unhappily. None of those possibilities seemed very attractive.

"Or the attack on the bank was a genuine coincidence that has taken five Order members a week to investigate and has deeply offended the vampire clans. One mustn´t disregard the possibility that it was all just a pointless waste of time," Black said caustically.

Dumbledore matched his dry tone. "Even that would be better than having vampires fighting beside Voldemort. Though hoping that you are wasting your time can become slightly galling over long periods." He brightened his voice marginally. "Though perhaps Academic Merriman´s model will yield what diplomacy hasn´t. She says that it should be functioning in real-time rather soon. That suggests a full reckoning of the past."

Sirius snorted. The fact that the model was necessary didn´t mean he was pleased about being sent on third-rate missions because of it. "If Pettigrew knew about Ben Weasley to begin with. If this oneiromancer makes the model work at all. "

Headmaster Duppycup switched nostrils. Shuddering, Dumbledore answered mildly, "Oh, I am reasonably confident of Academic Merriman´s abilities."

Sirius´s head made the shrugging motion again. "Oh I know. Remus said she was capable." His eyes glinted, this time with faint humor. "And he said that she apparently wants me back here for questioning of some sort, which means I can leave Boris and Natasha to their blood-flavored lollies and come back where its warm." Simply saying the sentence seemed to brighten his mood marginally. "That´s probably even worth meeting Remus´s horrible boss."

Dumbledore smiled. There was something to be said for putting a person somewhere so dreary that even life on their best friend´s couch seemed delightful by comparison.

Though he would never be that calculating. Never.

"Oh I wouldn´t say horrible. Difficult and demanding might be a better choice of words," he said mildly.

Sirius snorted eloquently. "If you say difficult and demanding to a horrible degree!"

Dumbledore twitched his eyebrows. He knew when it was not appropriate to begin an argument - especially over the possible charms of a woman he didn´t particularly like himself.

Black hadn´t finished. "Demanding! Remus had the both of us looking for pinking sheers at 12:30 at night. And she seems to expect him to work constantly. He´s there until all hours of the night. He eats in that ridiculous room!" Sirius suddenly stopped, an odd expression on his face. He looked he´d been hit between the eyes by a rock.

Dumbledore shrugged. "Well I imagine that Lupin wants this model finished as much as anyone. Its hardly surprising that he would be so dedicated." He dropped his quill on the desk. "And I suppose we should all be grateful for Academic Merriman´s devotion to her work," he admitted.

"Albus, how old is this oneiromancer?" Black´s eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

Dumbledore blinked. Surely not. "I don´t know," he answered honestly.

When Black looked unsatisfied, Dumbledore smiled faintly to himself. "Youngish," he offered.

He knew that the word was useless coming from him. He was old enough to be Minerva´s grandfather. But the upcoming talk with Moody about the leaky Azkaban situation made him feel that he deserved a little amusement.

Black´s face was wildly curious now and Albus felt he needed to save the situation. Lupin would be far better suited to answering these questions anyway.

I almost wish I could be there. Black always had a talent for punching holes in his friends´ composure.

"You´ll be meeting the woman quite soon." He leaned back in his chair. "I am confident of your ability to judge for yourself," he said pleasantly.

* * *

Atropos glanced nervously around the modeling room and wondered gloomily if she should neaten it up a little more. Some messiness was good because it suggested industriousness but too much could imply negligence. It was a very delicate line to walk.

When she realized that she straightened the same pile of papers three times she forced herself to stop. It was ridiculous. The last time she´d been this nervous, she was standing before the Oneiromantic Examining Committee trying to explain why she´d used a love-pentagon to describe a historical personage´s home life. Sirius Black didn´t deserve this much fuss.

Except it was the first time she´d met someone she´d modeled; it was the first time she´d met someone who might by annoyed with her for reasons she felt were valid; and it was the first time she´d met Remus´s best friend. And although she knew that the last worry didn´t make much sense, it kept floating to the top of the pile.

Plus I need to ask Black to do yet another thing he won´t like. No wonder I am not holding out much hope on this meeting being a shining success. I need to look competent, in control, and in the process of performing a useful task! And why won´t these damn papers stay straight?

She was primarily interested in the events leading up to Scabbers´s identity being discovered. With Ron and Remus´s account of the situation, she thought she would probably have a complete plan or, at least, enough of one to build the submodel. In any case, it meant she wouldn´t have to interview the unpleasant Potions Master. What little time she had had with him had mostly been spent choking down noxious Blood-Building potions to replace what was lost during her injury.

Atropos hoped he´d picked the nastier tasting ones on general principle, because she didn´t want to think that he actively disliked her.

Asking Black about the Shrieking Shack incident would have been easy. Unfortunately, she also needed some other information that only Black was in a position to provide. She really wished Remus had agreed to ask him for her. It had been rather cowardly to ask and Remus had flatly refused in the face of anger, orders, and wheedling.

He was right to of course. It was her job to deal with Witnesses and Sirius deserved to meet her.

I just really wish he´d agreed to do it for me anyway.

She checked over the model again. It was better than straightening papers at least.

Atropos frowned at the space that would soon hold the Scabbers revelation and made a note to ask Remus about the position of the door to the Shrieking Shack. It would only need this section of the model and Sirius Black´s addition - her mind shied away from that thought, she knew neither Mr. Black nor Remus was going to happy about Black´s part - to push the model into real-time.

That meant the simplest portion of the model would be over. Real-time was where business models of people were required to stop by law. Many oneiromancers spent their lives doing nothing but real-time models.

But Dumbledore didn´t need real-time. He wanted the future. And getting there was a delicate business. Assuring that the future the model foretold would remain true over years was even more difficult, tiny mistakes that did not matter in first few months would balloon into gigantic errors in prediction over a year.

Atropos excelled at future models. The biograph on Finola Blance she had created five years ago was still yielding relatively accurate information. With any luck, the Pettigrew model would break away from real time and move into accuracy by the summer.

Probably right after Selim Crowlet´s finished his Potter model.

She grimaced. It was remarkable how wars managed to add a grim spin on even the happiest of thoughts.

Atropos moved one of the marbles down a chalk line a few inches and sat back to take in the effect. It wasn´t really fair. Today should have been a good day. However good Selim was, she didn´t think he was going to be beat her to the finish. The model was moving forward at lightening speed. It was amazing what having a surfeit of witnesses could do. Ron alone had provided her with enough information to build the Scabbers third beautifully well, though the vegetables had to be replaced every few days to avoid smelling. The boy was also showing some genuine interest in battle models which at least made the small amount of time they spent not discussing Pettigrew vaguely interesting and solved the problem of how to make small-talk with a teenager. Although Remus seemed able to talk at great length with the students she had to meet with, she had yet to learn the skill.

She stepped back to survey the full effect. Cardboard cutouts were spread over the three portions, each casting their own shadows. David had sent her the boxes as well as the paints she used to give each cutout a face. She took it as a gesture of forgiveness for the worry she´d put him through.

A rushing sound from the fireplace made her look up. Remus stepped out brushing ash from his robes and shaking his head to dislodge what had gotten in his hair.

She nervously rose to greet him expecting and receiving the crooked smile he gave her when he saw she was present. "Sirius was right behind me," he said simply. He stepped to the side and she understood that he expected her to approach his friend.

She let out a ragged breath and rubbed sweaty palms down her freshly pressed robes. It was ridiculous. She´d read Black´s biograph. He wasn´t some stern teacher out to inspect her work!

"You´ll be fine. Sirius is in a very good mood." Remus soft voice spoke up soothingly. Though his face had a mocking look to it when she glanced at him.

The man himself came staggering through the next moment. Atropos blinked. He was wearing a pair of robes she recognized as Remus´s, which didn´t fit his taller person very well at all. He had a silvery cloak draped over one arm. This was immediately dropped to the floor. He didn´t seem to worry that he was covered in ashes, turning his head about the room unconcernedly. For some reason her appearance made him grin.

He turned to Remus, "Oh you meant younger then? I must have misunderstood!"

Feeling puzzled, Atropos turned to Remus as well. He looked irritated and a faint flush stood out on his pale cheeks. Now thoroughly confused, a sensation she detested, Atropos´s worry and self-consciousness readily gave way to annoyance. She took back control of the situation with both hands.

Or with one hand, since she thrust hers out towards her ash and Invisibility Cloak shedding guest. "Mr. Black? I´m Atropos Merriman." She swallowed. "I am building the model of Peter Pettigrew," she added irrelevantly.

The name got his attention instantly. Meeting his eyes, she could see a cold anger in them - one that was not, thankfully, directed entirely at her.

I suppose Pettigrew is something of a delicate topic. Too bad it´s the only topic I have right now.

He clasped her hand briefly and then turned to the model again. "Peter´s life? Must be a nasty sort of job." His mouth was set in a hard line.

Remus´s cool voice came to her rescue. "I don´t know, Sirius. She did a model of you, after all."

His hard expression smoothed away. He let out a short laugh. "I forgot you got to deal with the evil me!" Meeting her eyes he suddenly frowned again. "I suppose you read my ... biograph." Whether he found the idea or the word unsettling was hard to tell. Now it was his turn to blush faintly.

Atropos smiled internally and silently blessed Remus. She knew what the upper hand looked like when she saw it. "Every word," she said evenly. Behind Black, Remus was grinning. She gave him a small smile in return and decided to be a little kinder to his friend. "Of course since I had a lot of lies to sift through and started out with all of the wrong assumptions, I have no idea at all whether anything in it is true."

Sirius´s eyes were narrowed slightly. He apparently decided that believing her and not being embarrassed was better than not believing her and dealing with the humiliation, so he nodded.

He wandered over to a chair, and plopped down. He threw his arms out, nearly knocking over her carefully made stack of papers and spreading ash everywhere. She winced. Azkaban clearly did not promote neatness.

"Well, I am here and Remus said you had questions. Ask away!"

It was amazing how easy was to lose the upper hand. And he wasn´t even trying.

Atropos glanced at Remus who had shifted his grin into an extremely unhelpful neutral expression. She suppressed a sigh and brightly and spinelessly began to explain her need for his description of the moment in the Shrieking Shack. Black appeared to understand what she was getting at and though he seemed to become exercised whenever Pettigrew was mentioned, he was also willing to answer her questions.

Since she only needed his clarification on a few points, he went through the questionnaires rapidly. In that time, Atropos became very busy wishing she had asked more time-consuming questions and did her best to avoid looking at Remus, who was stubbornly trying to meet her eyes. At one point she jumped up to examine the model yet again, though what she could really do to it now, she had no idea. Remus stood near Sirius and waited. Far too quickly, Black looked up from the papers and stretched. "I think I have everything down. If that´s all ..."

Atropos gathered her courage. "No, that´s not all." She was proud of how steady her voice was. Pulling up a chair she sat next to the two men and fixed Black in the eye.

You can do this.

"I need your help on one more section of the model."

Black´s expression became guarded. He clearly did not miss that Remus was looking at him intently. He arched an eyebrow at her. Atropos inhaled sharply. She wondered wildly if it wouldn´t be possible to spend the huge amount of time it would take to have the model create the submodel on its own. That thought stiffened her back. Crowlet was making his model; if hers couldn´t be better than his it could certainly be done more quickly. While she was searching for words, Remus moved to a chair. As he sat he rested a hand briefly on her shoulder.

She met his eyes and then turned back to Black, speaking as expressionlessly as possible. "I need you to describe, in writing, the moment you asked Mr. Pettigrew to be Mr. and Mrs. Potter´s secret keeper. I also need to know the exact details of your ... public confrontation with Mr. Pettigrew."

Atropos had asked many uncomfortable questions of others in her capacity as an oneiromancer. She didn´t know whether it was her previous knowledge of Sirius Black or some other more personal reason, but she had never felt so effected by the response. He stared at her, stricken, clearly trying to process her request into something understandable and less emotionally crushing.

She stared back at Black helplessly, desperate to do or say something. It was only when she felt Remus´s heel grinding into her foot that she looked at him. He glanced meaningfully from her to the far end of the room and she felt a rush of confusion followed by one of gratitude when she finally understood. She would leave - escape - and Remus, his friend, who knew how to talk to miserable and stunned people, would talk to Mr. Black.

Feeling almost dizzy with relief, Atropos muttered a vague excuse, which neither man acknowledged, and walked to as far an end of the room as she could reach. As she left she could hear the soft mutter of Remus´s voice behind her.

Of course, when she arrived at the corner she realized she would need to find something to do. That or stare at the wall for however long it takes for someone to subdue their demons enough to discuss them with a stranger.

Glancing back over at Mr. Black, Atropos felt a surge of guilt, though deep down she still could not deny the necessity. It was true that she could have made the model eventually produce the events that she was trying to get from Black. It was what she had done for huge portions of her original Black model. With only disinterested or minor Witnesses, much of the information in the model had been built on previous information given by the model. It was how she had found out that Black, Potter, and Pettigrew were Animagi. But it was also why the model of Black took so much time to create. Any information the model produced on its own required time to come into being and time to check. Time was not something she had in great quantity.

She looked away from Black and Remus and glanced around her tiny corner of room. The section where she had placed herself was far enough away from the model to make it impossible for her to pretend to be working on it. It was a very narrow corner holding nothing but a small cabinet. She felt herself growing pale, as she remembered what she had hidden there.

Atropos looked over her shoulder again. Black was speaking to Remus. She turned back to the cabinet. Perhaps it is a sign. The model is very close.

Opening the cabinet door, she pulled out the only thing inside. The Black Box, or LV Box as it was sometimes called, was not truly a box because it could not be opened. She knew vaguely that it was hollow inside but the surface of the cube was perfectly smooth and shiny in a way that sucked light in instead of reflecting it out. It fitted neatly in the palm of her hand. It also made her skin crawl.

Since 1982 every model produced by the Academy had a Black Box as one of its components.

Her eyes slid to the model of Pettigrew. Atropos had already planned where she was going to place the cube, but, as always, was reluctant to remove it from the hiding place she´d chosen for it.

Atropos briefly toyed with the idea of shoving the Box back into its cabinet and staring at the wall for however long it took instead, but painfully brushed it aside.

Pulling her wand from her sleeve, she walked over to the model, clearing her mind of the distractions of the room.

Although both Remus and Sirius paused their talking when they saw her moving, she did not notice. Putting Lord Voldemort inside a model, even in cube form, required total concentration.

* * *

AN: Many thanks to Yolanda who is the best and quickest beta around. Thanks to Gwena Lanish who took the time from writing her own story to read mine.