The Purloined Prophetess

XXXII: A Package Deal

We finally learned why the kidnappers hadn't made a second move. Rosmerta asked her Aussie employee a few well-chosen questions and found out that an attractive auburn-haired woman had dropped in and engaged him in a long conversation about business a few days after I spoke to him. Among other things, he happened to mention that a brisk trade in takeaway sherry had suddenly dried up.

'It's always the little details, isn't it?' said Remus, shaking his head. 'Brilliant impersonation job, but nobody thought to keep you supplied with sherry. Oh well, I think we might keep quiet about that information for a few days. Having the North Tower to ourselves has its compensations...'

'You're - er - all right with the way things turned out last night, then?'

'Am I all right with it? I kissed you back, didn't I?'

'Well,' I said, feeling awkward, 'we'd both had a fair bit to drink, and I didn't give you much chance to say no.'

'Ah. In other words, you're worried about having taken advantage of my tender years and innocence?' he said, eyes twinkling. 'Rest assured that I do know how to refuse a lady, and this is not a refusal.'

"Well. That's all right, then," I said, trying not to grin too broadly as what felt like a small string of firecrackers went off in my stomach.

Five minutes later, Mark Evans and his friend Aurelius burst into the Divination classroom to welcome us back and show off their new baby toads, one of which promptly hopped out of Aurelius' hand and disappeared, forcing the boys to dismantle the room. A rather out-of-breath Hermione turned up, took in the situation at a glance, and seized a boy in each hand with an expression that did not bode well for Mark and Aurelius. The other sixth-year prefect, Ron, followed a moment later, looking so scandalised I was afraid he might not recover.

'Don't worry about it, you're perfectly welcome,' said Remus, disentangling himself from me. He added in a whisper, 'Sorry, but I'm afraid I'm a package deal. If you want me, you have to take the kids as well.'

'That's fine,' I said, settling in for an evening of toad-hunting and Exploding Snap. 'I wouldn't want it any other way.'

'What was Ron looking so shocked for?' I asked after they had all returned to the Gryffindor common room. 'He and Hermione were curled up in the corner snogging the whole time.'

'Silly - we're ancient,' said Remus. 'Or at least I am, and you're getting close. Anybody over twenty-five is practically decrepit and is absolutely not allowed to have a love life.'

'Practically decrepit,' eh? I smiled to myself. At least he didn't think of me as a kid.

We saw quite a bit of Theo Nott over the next few days, although I wasn't sure what to make of him. I had never met his father or Medea, but I had gone to school with the younger of his two sisters, Lavinia. I remembered her as loud, outgoing, and rebellious. We weren't friends, exactly, because I was a Gryffindor and she was a Slytherin, but she had seemed likeable, and I had been shocked to hear that she had committed suicide a year or two after we left Hogwarts. Theo was almost her polar opposite - too withdrawn to look anyone in the eye or speak above a whisper - and he seemed particularly wary of me. I wondered if I reminded him of Lavinia too much.

Remus had slightly better luck; he spent several evenings talking with Theo in a quiet corner of the North Tower. All the same, he said he couldn't get much information out of him that might help us locate Jephthah, Medea, or Sybill. 'The poor kid is shell-shocked, and naturally he doesn't want to say anything too compromising about his family - and I don't want to ask him any questions that make it obvious what we're looking for, because his sister has been using Legilimency on him against his will. We'll have to tread lightly.'

'How far do you think we can trust him?' I asked.

He frowned. 'That's another problem. I honestly don't know.'

'You're a fair Legilimens yourself.' (He looked uncomfortable, and I realized too late that he doesn't like being reminded of that.) 'Didn't you -'

'Yes. I had to. But it is Legilimency, not divination. And, well, it's hardly fair to expect loyalty from him when we may be about to send his only living family members to Azkaban.'

I'm ashamed to say that I hadn't thought of this side of things before. For a split second, I felt relieved that I wasn't the one the boy was beginning to look at with a fragile sense of confidence, and then I looked at Remus' face and wished it could have been anyone but him.

'There's something you'd better know,' I told him. 'I've been reading up on the Nott family at work. Barty Crouch, Senior authorised the raid that killed Theo's mother before Jephthah and Medea joined the Death Eaters. They were sympathisers, yes, and Medea had a few friends who had already joined up - but it seems to have been the mother's death that pushed them over the edge.'

'They're monsters of our own making, then. At least in part.'

'Yeah. And we're meant to be the good guys,' I said. 'It's a dirty business, all around.'

'You're just now noticing?' He laughed mirthlessly. 'This isn't the worst thing I've had to do. If we are going to be lovers, you'd better see me at my most deceitful. One of these days I'll take you to Sunday lunch with an old woman in Birmingham. Her name is Martha Pettigrew and she thinks of me as a sort of foster son.'

I didn't know to respond. Was he confiding in me or warning me off? I laid a hand on his arm, but he looked as if he wasn't sure he wanted to be touched. Casually, he said, 'If you're planning to try your skills as a potion brewer, it's about that time.'

I understood this to mean that he wanted to be left alone for a bit and took off for the dungeons. Thank Merlin, Snape wasn't around to watch my first attempt at brewing Wolfsbane. (Chop-chop-chop-chop-chop-OW!-chop-chop. Measure, measure again, mix, stir, stir, stir, stir, stirrrr, stiiiiirrrrr, splatter, sizzle, bloody-HELL!, stir, stir, stir... Bubble, bubble, pour, splash, YIPE! Damn! You get the idea. Believe it or not, I'm a first-rate potion maker if you judge by the final results, but the process isn't pretty.)

'Does comfrey essence improve the flavour?' I asked Remus.

'Unfortunately, no,' he said, shuddering a little as he drained the goblet. 'But it might help if you kissed me again.'

I did, not minding the slightly bitter taste that still lingered about his mouth. And again and again.

He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me away for a moment. 'There's one thing. You're not expecting miracles, are you? I mean, it's a pain reliever and not much else. I'm never going to be really well and to be honest - I'm not sure you've made the best bargain.'

'I think I have,' I said, looking him over. 'I require brains, humour, and decency. Anything else is extra - only I wish you were a little less secretive.' I hesitated for a moment before taking the plunge. 'You lived with the knowledge that my cousin was ... was losing his mind for a year? And you didn't talk to anyone about it?'

'What good would talking have done?' he asked. 'I assumed most people had some idea, if they knew him at all - and if they didn't, why make things harder on them?'

'It might have made things easier on yourself.'

'Perhaps,' he said, sounding a bit sceptical about the concept. 'And what about you?' he asked suddenly. 'Didn't it occur to you that I might have been better off knowing about Larry's comfrey essence theory from the beginning?'

'Same reason, I suppose. It's a hard thing to face, knowing someone hates you that much, and I wanted to protect you a bit. And I wanted to be fair to him, and to all of us, since we have to work together. You don't go around making accusations against other members of the Order without rock-solid proof.'

'Let's get one or two things straight,' he said quietly. 'I don't need protecting. And neither do you, I think.'

'You're right on both counts. I'm sorry.'

'It's all right. But if this - whatever we've got - if it's going to work, I think we have to be completely honest with each other. I had better warn you up front that complete honesty has never come easily to me, but I'll give it a fair try if you will.'

'Agreed.' We clasped hands.

'Do I get to read the parts you Arcanum Charmed now?'

'Of course,' I said. I lifted the charm and left him to it. I was still figuring out the finer points of this package deal I'd signed on for, but I was sure part of it was that you didn't come between a man and his reading material.

Suddenly Remus dropped the book on the floor. 'Larry works in the same building as the Happy Hippogriff Dead Rat Emporium?' he asked.

'Yes. Why?'

'Because I used to be a regular customer, back when Sirius had Buckbeak. And the man who owns the place calls himself Melvin Crankenthorpe, but he exactly fits your description of Stubby Boardman - or Jephthah Nott.'

XXXIII: At the Happy Hippogriff

Jack and Harriet Evans invited Larry and me to their house in Surrey for dinner one evening. We were discussing the case over coffee - by which I mean, naturally, discussing Moony and Nymphadora.

'The confusing bit about this whole situation,' I said, 'is that I don't know whether to tell him I'll hex him halfway to Neptune if he hurts my cousin, or to tell her I'll do the same to her if she hurts Moony. Maybe I'd better have a little private chat with both of them, just to cover all the bases.'

Harriet laughed. 'Maybe you'd better assume they're both able to take care of themselves.'

'Yeah, but that wouldn't be any fun, would it?' I said. 'Don't you think Sirius Alphard Lupin would be a good name for a boy? But since they're both half-bloods, I suppose they'll go for something very boring and practical. I hope Moony's not going to go all oh-no-we-can't-possibly-risk-it about having kids. Wouldn't they make a brilliant mum and dad?'

Just then they both turned up in the living room without warning - which was a bit embarrassing. They looked dishevelled and they were clutching Instant Message Books.

'Aren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts trying to be kidnapped?' I asked.

'Forget about the bluff, it's not working. But I think we've got it,' my cousin announced breathlessly. 'We're pretty sure we know where to find Jephthah Nott, alias Stubby Boardman. We think he also goes by the name of Melvin Crankenthorpe, owner of the Happy Hippogriff Dead Rat Emporium.'

Of course I had to help verify this, since I was the only one who had actually met Jephthah Nott. They wanted Larry to confirm that he was also the man who came into his office pretending to be Boardman, but he said dead rats gave him the creeps. (I didn't think this was much of an excuse. Death Eaters give me the creeps, and you didn't see me trying to back out.) But anyway, Nymphadora said she could identify him as well, so the three of us, plus Jack, ended up going to the Happy Hippogriff Dead Rat Emporium the next day.

The shop was a dreary-looking place, strictly no-frills. The sacks of dead rats piled along the back wall were sorted by colour, from albino to coal black with a range of browns and greys in between. Spotted and particoloured ones cost five Knuts extra.

'Haven't seen you in ages, Melvin,' said Moony pleasantly. 'I don't think you've met my girlfriend, have you?'

'Oh yes he has,' said Nymphadora, looking him over. 'Hello, Mr Boardman. It's not every day you see a singing sensation flogging dead rats. Come down in the world a bit, haven't you?'

The man behind the counter glared at her. 'Yes, my stage name used to be Stubby Boardman, but a very traumatic incident involving a root vegetable left me unable to continue performing. There is nothing dishonourable about the way I earn a living now, and I don't see how my career path is anybody's business except my own.'

'Well, Stubby?' asked my cousin. I took off my hood and sunglasses and came forward.

I hadn't seen him in sixteen years and he seemed to have aged thirty, but the man was definitely Jephthah Nott. I looked him over. He was a thin, stooped bloke with an expression like he'd been sucking on a lemon and not a trace of charisma or stage presence. And this guy claimed to be a singing sensation? If I'd been the real Stubby Boardman, I would have taken it as a personal insult. As things were, I knew I did a much better impression of the man.

'No, I'm Stubby Boardman,' I said, showing him my ukulele.

Nott blanched, but he tried to brazen it out. 'That's ridiculous,' he said without much conviction. 'You're obviously another one of these celebrity impersonators who keep dragging my reputation through the mud.'

'Oh yeah? Well, let's hear you sing your greatest hit, "Since My Baby Left-a Me."' I handed him the ukulele.

He looked at it like he couldn't tell which end was up, but at last he settled on a position and began to strum it. 'Since ... MAH ... bay-BAY left-A me ... something something something something somethinnggg...'

'Nice try, Stubby,' I said, 'but I'm afraid you're Nott.'

We disarmed him and bound his arms and legs. Moony and I kept our wands aimed at him as my cousin showed him her Ministry identification card. 'You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Sybill Trelawney, Mr Nott. Tell us what you've done with her.'

Jephthah struggled, swore at her, and shook his head.

'Don't want to talk, do you?' she said crisply. 'I have a feeling we'll be able to loosen your tongue before long, but you'll get a much shorter prison sentence if you cooperate now. Where did you take her after you left the North Tower?'

'I didn't take her anywhere!' said Nott. 'I've never been inside the North Tower.'

I heard a soft scuffling noise from the back of the shop as Jack stepped forward. 'You may as well tell us, Mr Nott,' he said. 'We know exactly how it was done. Larry Lovegood and Tonks, here, can both testify that you gained access to Mr Lovegood's office posing as Stubby Boardman in order to steal the ingredients for Polyjuice potion - and I believe she can also identify you as the man who tried to kidnap her when she was disguised as Professor Trelawney.'

Nymphadora nodded. 'Right build, right colouring, same way of moving. It's him, all right. Now, where is Sybill?'

'I don't know!' insisted the man on the floor.

All in a flash, I was sure. 'He doesn't know,' I said. 'You have the wrong man.'

'This isn't the time for jokes, Reg,' said Moony. 'You just identified him yourself.'

'I said he was Jephthah Nott. And he is. But he didn't kidnap Sybill. It's all wrong.'

They all looked at me as if I were mad. I didn't have time to explain, because footsteps in the hallway told us a customer was coming. Nymphadora gagged Nott while Moony took hold of one of his arms and Jack grabbed the other. They dragged him behind the counter and out of sight.

One of the Weasley twins walked into the shop. 'Oy, Tonks and Reg!' His eyes widened as Moony reappeared from behind the counter. 'Er, hello, Professor. I didn't know you got a job selling dead rats.' He looked slightly embarrassed, and I wondered if Larry was about to get another crusader in his campaign for werewolf rights.

'Hello, Fred,' said Moony, cool as anything. 'It is Fred, isn't it? I don't sell dead rats - I give them away.'

Jephthah Nott made protesting noises from behind his gag.

'How many do you think Buckbeak can eat in a week?' Moony continued relentlessly, as Nymphadora and I loaded Fred's shopping basket with rats of all colours. 'Are you sure he wouldn't like more? Can you use any extras - for testing joke shop products, perhaps?'

'Oh yeah, that'd be brilliant. George and I have been experimenting with Occasional Vanishing Charms. I bet we could do a lot with a rat that's sometimes there and sometimes isn't.'

'Excellent. You wouldn't care to take the shop off our hands, too, while you're at it? The previous owner seems a little unfit for work at the moment.'

Nott squirmed and squeaked, but the bonds around his wrists only tightened.

In less than fifteen minutes, Fred was installed behind the counter and had already started putting up signs offering specials on rats enchanted to fly around the room, disappear, or explode. We were just debating how to get Nott back to headquarters when an owl swooped in the door with a note addressed to Jack.

The handwriting was Mad-Eye Moody's, firm and straight. It read 'DON'T GO HOME.'