Remedial History

Chapter Fifteen: Grudge Match

“How come your house-elf calls you Regulus?” Theo asked Stubby Boardman later that evening, after the Gudgeons had gone. “I thought your real name was Reginald Dwight.”

“Reginald Dwight?” Jack Evans leaned against the wall, convulsed with laughter.

“What’s so funny about that?” Professor Moody asked.

“H- he told Theo he was Elton John.”

Moody still looked bewildered. “Who’s Elton John?”

“Never mind.”

“Well, it’s time to come clean,” said Mr. Boardman. “My real name is Regulus, and my last name’s classified information, and unfortunately I’m not Stubby Boardman at all, as much as I’d like to be able to claim credit for ‘Since My Baby Left-A Me.’ I believe the real Stubby Boardman lives somewhere in the Caribbean. I just borrowed his identity for my work at Hogwarts, which is also classified, by the way, so don’t ask me anything about it.”

Theo would normally have been disappointed to learn that he hadn’t met the real Stubby Boardman, but it sounded like Regulus was some sort of secret agent, which was even more exciting.

“What were you going to Hogwarts to tell me?” he asked suddenly.

“Sit down,” said Regulus, motioning toward a decrepit-looking sofa. He sat down beside Theo, gazed at him for a moment, and then looked about the room uncertainly. “I wish Moony were around. He’s better at this stuff than I am, but he’s trying to banish the ghouls from the upstairs bedroom so you’ll have someplace to sleep.”

“I’ll make it easy on you,” said Theo, trying not to think too hard about the prospect of sleeping in a bedroom full of ghouls. “It’s my dad and my sister. They’ve been arrested. Right?”

Regulus nodded.

“I’m glad. At least I think I am. It’s complicated.”

“Of course it is. One minute you know they’ve said and done things you’ll never forgive them for – and then you think, they’re my family, they’re not monsters, and they aren’t thinking straight a good bit of the time, and perhaps they didn’t mean any of it to happen ...”

Theo was astonished at how exactly Regulus had described his own feelings. “How do you know?”

“Because I came from that sort of family too.”

“Did you have any brothers or sisters?” Theo asked.

 “One older brother. I loved him very much, but he didn’t get on with our parents, and the whole time I was growing up, it felt like my brother had got hold of one of my hands and he was pulling me in one direction, and my parents were tugging my other hand in the opposite direction. It’s no way to live. You get torn apart no matter what you do. And it isn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Theo. “Where’s your brother now?”

“He’s dead. Never really got a chance to say all the things I should have said to him. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” said Theo. “It was kind of like that when my sister died too.” But he realized, for the first time, that some small part of him was relieved that Lavinia hadn’t really committed suicide. He no longer had to blame himself for not passing on her message to David.

He wondered if he would feel bad later about not saying goodbye to his father and Medea before they were arrested, but right now he didn’t feel anything at all. “Why didn’t you talk to your brother?” he asked.

“Because my cousin turned me into a hat for sixteen years.”

“Oh,” said Theo, wondering what you were supposed to say to a person who had spent sixteen years as a hat. At last he settled on, “How was that?”

“Dead boring, mostly.”

“Oh.”

 

                                                            *          *          *

Theo woke up the next morning in a strange four-poster bed with a heavy canopy. It took him a moment to remember where he was and how he got there. He got up and looked out the window; it was still pouring rain and he couldn’t tell what time of day it was, but he felt heavy-headed, as if he’d been sleeping for a long time.

He put on his school robes, which were looking very wrinkled since he’d left them wadded up on a chair, but he didn’t have any others. He found a bathroom, did his best to wash up, and crept downstairs cautiously, trying not to shudder at the sight of a number of house-elf heads mounted on the wall.

The house was very big and very still. At first he thought he’d been left there all alone, but when he wandered into the drawing room he found Professor Lupin curled up on one of the sofas with a cup of tea and a box of tissues close at hand. He was sketching something that looked like a floor plan on a piece of parchment, but he put it aside when Theo came into the room. “Good morning, Theo. Hope you're not any the worse for wear after your experiences.”

“No. Are you?”

Lupin reached for a tissue. “Well, I think I've just discovered why I shouldn't spend twenty-four hours running around in the rain right after the full moon, but it's nothing serious. My orders were to keep warm, keep rested, and keep you company. Everybody else is out looking for Professor Snape, who is still looking for you. We’ve been trying to make contact with him ever since you turned up, but he isn't responding to our messages.”

Theo felt uncomfortable. “I guess I've probably caused a lot of trouble for everybody, right? Sorry about that.”

“I wouldn't say that. Your letter's finally arrived, and if everything you've said and guessed is correct, your family and your housemates have caused a lot of trouble for everybody. I'll reserve judgment about you until you explain why you ran away from school.”

Theo told him about his encounters with Neville and Blaise on Monday morning. Lupin was frowning slightly by the time he reached the end of the story.

“Is there anything else you would like to tell me?” he asked. “Anything at all?”

He sounded as if he had something specific in mind. Theo rubbed his left wrist against his thigh, trying to make it stop hurting. “Well, I found this book,” he said, thinking it would be best to approach the subject of the binding ritual in a roundabout way. “I think it might have been yours once. Wait here.” He ran upstairs and returned with The Book of Immortality.

Lupin looked puzzled as he took the book from Theo. “No, it’s certainly not mine. I’ve never seen it before." He leafed through the pages, looked at the inside front page and whistled softly. “I’d venture a guess that R. L. actually stands for Rodolphus Lestrange, the convicted Death Eater who has escaped from Azkaban twice in the past year. I’m sure E. R. is Evan Rosier, Voldemort’s propagandist during the first war, and S. W. is Simon Wilkes – rather a nice boy when he was at school, but he ended up joining the Death Eaters and being killed by Aurors, as I'm sure you know. They were obsessed with alchemy, both of them, and this book is filled with notes on alchemical experiments -- or the first fifty pages or so are. Toward the end, as best I can make out, it gets into some very Dark magic indeed. B. B. is Bellatrix Black, Draco Malfoy’s aunt, and your instincts about her are absolutely right. She's not somebody you want to be mixed up with.”

“And S. S.?” Theo asked.

Before Lupin could answer, Professor Snape Apparated into the drawing room. He was soaking wet and there were dark circles under his eyes, and he was plainly in a very foul mood.

“Oh, hello, Severus. I'd better get the word out to the others, they've been worried about you. Didn't you get our messages?” Lupin took out a small notebook that was the twin of the one Theo had seen Miss Tonks write in on the previous day and jotted something down.

“No, I did not! Why couldn’t you have sent an owl like a normal person instead of expecting me to check that piece of joke-shop rubbish every few minutes? It's worse than the stuff that idiot American – if that is not a redundancy – comes up with.” (Having heard Snape's tirades on the subject before, Theo knew he was talking about Professor Just Todd.)

“Owls get lost,” answered Lupin. “If I'd received Theo's two days ago, it would have saved us all a fair bit of trouble. Gilderoy! I mean -- Kreacher!”

The house-elf poked his head into the room. “Is master's friend wanting any vampires vanquished or hags subdued, or perhaps Gilderoy's autograph?”

“No, thank you. But some more hot tea for everyone would be nice. And another box of tissues for me, please,” he added, sniffling a little.

“Feeling poorly again, Lupin? I don’t know why we don’t just build a hothouse for you.” Professor Snape turned his attention to Theo. “I hope you realize that when you decided to play at running away like a six-year-old, you put yourself and countless other people at risk. I did not expect any great intellectual leaps or instances of courage from you, Nott, but I thought you might at least be Slytherin enough to look after your own skin.”

“Severus,” said Lupin, as Theo frantically tried to signal him to keep silent, “are you aware that Theo left school because Draco Malfoy threatened him with death if he tried to quit the Junior Death Eaters’ Auxiliary he’s been running directly under your nose?”

“What?” For the first time in Theo’s experience, his Head of House looked decidedly shaken. He must be a very good actor ... or – What if Draco was wrong and he wasn’t a tacit ally of the Pureblood Youth League? For the first time in days, Theo thought perhaps he’d be able to return to school.

“Have a look at this,” said Lupin, handing Snape The Book of Immortality. He had a slightly smug expression on his face that Theo didn’t like. “Seem familiar at all?”

Professor Snape’s face darkened as he leafed through the book. “This is the first step down the road to hell,” he said softly, “and yet most of the spells here are worthless enough in themselves. It is an accused piece of trash. The poor plaything of a coterie of young fools who gorged themselves sick on forbidden knowledge. They were prepared to sell souls for a glorious and empty dream ... and not just their own souls.” He handed the book back, not to Lupin, but to Theo. “I would tell you to throw it in the fire, but the pages are charmed to be indestructible. Take it and bury it where sunlight will never reach. Or take it and profit from the authors’ folly. I care little – so long as I never have to see it again.”

Theo tucked the book into the crook of his arm, uncertain what to do with it. It took him a moment to realize why this speech stunned him so much. In five and a half years of school, his Head of House had given him hundreds of orders. He had never before invited Theo to make a choice for himself.

He also noticed, with a start, that Snape had a small, X-shaped scar on the inside of his left wrist. It looked as if it had healed cleanly.

Kreacher returned with the tea, and Snape’s attitude returned to normal. He helped himself to a cup and drank it off in one gulp. “I’ve got a lot more to say to you, Nott, but it can wait until I’m wearing dry clothes.”

After Snape left the room, Professor Lupin said in a lowered voice, "Before you showed me that book, I was going to tell you that I've had an owl from Neville Longbottom. He makes a fairly serious accusation against you. Do you know what it is?"

Theo shook his head. Lupin was watching him with a disquietingly intense gaze.

"He accuses you of threatening to make public some personal information that he told you in confidence unless he joined the Pureblood Youth League."

"He thinks I blackmailed him?" asked Theo, horrified.

"That was the term he used, yes. Forgive me, but I must ask you this -- did you?"

"Merlin, no!"

"Did you repeat anything Neville told you to anyone else?"

"No. He made me promise not to."

"Are you positive you didn't let anything slip? Think back." After a short pause, Lupin added in a tone that sounded too self-consciously casual, "In particular, try to remember whether you might have said anything to your friend Blaise."

Snape had reappeared in the doorway, almost silently. “Do not poison his mind against Blaise Zabini!”

“I am not poisoning Theo’s mind. I’m asking him to be careful about what he says to his friends – particularly the ones who seem to be interested in taking over the Junior Death Eaters’ Auxiliary.”

“You are influencing him to turn away from the only one I have a chance of saving from that nest of young vipers – and the only one worth saving. Mr. Zabini is worth more than the rest of them put together. The boy’s a genius.”

“Well, God preserve us lesser mortals from geniuses,” said Lupin suddenly, getting to his feet.

He, too, spoke quietly, but the words seemed to send an electric current through the room. Theo had never seen his former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this angry, but he knew at once that he was a force to be reckoned with.

  

“Your old friends who wrote that book, Evan Rosier and Simon Wilkes and Bellatrix Black – the ones who thought they were too good to die, but didn’t spare the rest of us – they were geniuses, weren’t they? You may see a bit of yourself in your idol, but he reminds me of them.”

Snape flushed. “How dare you compare Blaise Zabini to that crew of pampered aristocrats? He came from nothing and he’s been given nothing. He’s had to fight for it all. For six long years, I have watched him fight with brains and nerve and will and cunning to make a place for himself in a pack of spoilt inbred brats who eat outsiders alive.”

“It makes no difference where he comes from. I’m talking about character. I warned you about Blaise three years ago. But you were too busy doling out house points to Draco Malfoy and his crowd like – like caramel-coated opium to see what was right in front of your eyes.” Lupin stepped toward his former colleague, gazing steadily at him. “You’re infatuated with cleverness, Severus. It’s made you blind.”

Regulus appeared at the drawing room door but did not enter. It was as if the tension in the room were a solid substance that blocked his way. Theo felt oppressed by it himself; he sank into the cushions on the couch and tried to pretend he was invisible, although neither man seemed to be paying him any mind.

“And you’re infatuated with underdogs,” Snape retorted. “It’s one of the articles of your faith – the cringing cowards shall inherit the earth. Bit old to believe in fairy tales, aren’t you, Lupin? The Nott boy isn’t some woodcutter’s son waiting to be transformed into a hero. He was born with connections and he still managed to be a nobody.”

“Standing up to his family and the only friends he’s ever known is hardly the action of a nobody.” Lupin paced to the other end of the room and gripped the windowsill; he seemed to be making a forcible effort to keep his voice even. “Just as a matter of general interest, Severus, what makes you hate Theo so much? I thought you were only prejudiced against Gryffindors, werewolves, and people who remind you of the dead.”

“I would have thought that Nott would have reminded you of one particular living person,” said Snape with careful emphasis. “Need I remind you that selling out one’s friends and family for one’s own protection is the action of a traitor. I think that if our little runaway is going to spend much time around you, he should be made aware of certain parallels with the previous generation – for his own safety.”

“What are you insinuating?” Lupin abruptly turned away from the window.

“I’m not insinuating anything – I’m saying straight out that there’s nothing more dangerous than a champion of the weak whose faith has been shattered. Did you tell the boy you were prepared to kill your old friend with your bare hands when you discovered the truth about him?”

Lupin, who had been pacing back across the room, stopped dead. “How do you know that? You were unconscious.”

“I didn’t know until you told me just now. I guessed. I’ve taken your measure, Lupin – it wasn’t hard – and I’ve taken young Nott’s too. He may have good instincts, but he hasn’t got the strength or the will to follow through on them. He’s the sort of coward who knuckles under as soon as he gets spooked – just like his father and Bardolph Avery – and like your precious little friend Pettigrew...”

Theo knew Bardolph Avery slightly; he was a business associate of his father’s who had a swollen but vaguely friendly face full of broken capillaries and seemed to be perpetually drunk. For the first time, he made the connection with the sixth set of initials in The Book of Immortality.

“Severus, has it ever – ever – occurred to you that your students ought to be judged on their own terms and not tainted by our memories of people who may or may not resemble them?”

“You ought to talk! Don’t try to pretend you weren’t prejudiced against Mr. Zabini from the first day he walked into your classroom, because he reminded you of Black.”

“I was not! I don’t believe in prejudging people, especially children.”

He may not believe in it, Theo thought, remembering the way he’d seen Lupin looking at Blaise during their third year, but he did it anyway.

“A lovely set of ideals,” Snape sneered. “No wonder people who don’t know better always mistake you for a human.”

Regulus stepped forward from the doorway, wand drawn. “Don’t talk to Moony that way!”

Lupin grabbed his arm and tried to force him back. “Reg, please. I can fight my own battles.”

Something resembling a blue-white flame shot out of Regulus’ wand, just missing Snape, who returned fire. Regulus doubled over in pain as one of Snape’s spells hit him in the stomach; Lupin stepped in front of him and drew his wand. Within seconds, the room was filled with spells firing in all directions. A stray jet of red light hit the curtains and reduced them to ashes.

Theo realized within seconds that this was a dirty fight, unlike any dueling he’d seen before. Snape and Lupin were out for one another’s blood, and there seemed to be years of pent-up grudges between them. He caught a few snatches of accusations between spells.

... passive-aggressive, smarmy hypocrite – might have got the Potter boy killed because you didn’t have the guts to –

... sheer sadism – and you had the BALLS to call it justice –

They’re acting like children, all of them, he thought. Somebody’s got to be the grownup around here before they kill each other.

“Cut it OUT, all of you, you’re supposed to be on the same side!” he shouted, and when the three men ignored him, he waded straight into the firing zone between them. And then everything went black.