Mordant

Chapter Seventeen: Quoth the Raven

While Fraser was still hollering and wiping blood out of his eyes, Linus grabbed his wand from the briefcase that was lying on the table, pulled Chess off the Ministry agent’s head, and Disapparated to Celia’s. As soon as she let him in the house, he gave a hasty explanation of what had happened and added, “I don’t think we can stay here. We’ve been seen together in public too often. It’s only a matter of time before Fraser comes looking for me.”

Celia nodded crisply. “I think you did the right thing. I don’t believe we ought to feel obligated to obey the Ministry under the circumstances. You see, the social contract –”

“Celia, could you try not treating this as a problem in magical ethics for a change?” Linus snapped. “Did you miss the bit where I was almost arrested? Or possibly handed over to the Death Eaters, if Fraser’s in with them?”

She bit her lower lip and looked considerably shaken, as his words started to sink in. “Right. Sorry. I’m going to get in touch with Remus. If I’m right about – about what he’s involved in, they’re bound to have some sort of hideaway.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, but he always told me to cast a Patronus Charm if I ever needed him in an emergency.” She threw a window open, and he watched as a silvery owl took wing from the tip of her wand. Linus followed suit, just in case, and his own mockingbird Patronus soared after the owl.

Remus’ head appeared in the fireplace after a few tense minutes. He listened to Linus’ experiences with a serious expression, and then said, “As soon as I’m out of the way, pack whatever you need and take the Floo Network to number Ninety-Three, Diagon Alley. Got that? I’ll meet you there and explain matters to the proprietors.”

Proprietors? Linus and Celia looked at each other in puzzlement.

Celia packed a change of clothes and what looked like half the contents of the bookcase, until Linus pointed out rather sarcastically that there were, in fact, bookstores in Diagon Alley. He took Chess into his arms and they both stepped into the fire.

 

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Ninety-Three Diagon Alley turned out to be a shop that had not yet opened for business. Two red-haired teenagers were putting up shelves and unpacking crates with great energy; they looked vaguely familiar, but it took Linus a moment to place them as two of Arthur Weasley’s sons.

Remus nodded at the boys. “Fred, George – I’d like you to meet my mother, Celia Lupin, and her friend Linus Berowne. They’re in a bit of trouble with the Ministry and they need a safe place to stay – I hope for only a day or two, possibly longer. I expect they’ll be happy to help you with the shop if you ask nicely. And,” he added as an afterthought, “if you so much as think of using them as guinea pigs for any of your experiments, I’ll tell your mother about those Venomous Tentacula seeds you bought from Mundungus.”

“Understood,” said George “... Moony.”

Fred Summoned some tea and sandwiches from the back room, and Linus told the story of his encounter with Fraser for the third time in an hour, this time at a much more leisurely pace, concluding with a fairly good imitation of Fraser dancing around with an invisible Cheshire cat on his head.

Fred and George made much of Chess when they had heard this bit; they stroked and patted him and insisted on feeding him salmon and cream until he put a stop to it by throwing up in the corner.

Tonks and Kingsley arrived after half an hour. Tonks looked paler and more troubled than Linus remembered, and her manner was businesslike. “Are you quite sure it was a real Ministry identification card you saw?” she asked Linus.

He nodded. “I know one when I see one.”

She looked grave. “The anti-forgery charms make them impossible to fake, and they go blank if somebody tries to use a stolen one. Which means there’s a Death Eater in the Ministry – unless ... You’re absolutely positive Sam Barker said he was working for You-Know-Who?”

“He said he was working for somebody he’d call ‘Tommy.’ He didn’t give any details about who this person was, except that he had contacts who could keep Barker’s name off the Werewolf Registry and supply him with Wolfsbane.”

Tonks, who had been about to take a bite out of one of the sandwiches, put it down uneaten. “This doesn’t add up. At the time Sam Barker was bitten, You-Know-Who was a helpless cripple living in an abandoned house. He had a grand total of one man and a snake in his service, and the man was supposed to be dead.”

“You’re right. Summer of 1994, wasn’t it?” said Remus thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t care to make that autumn, would you?”

“You’re thinking it could have been Crouch, Senior, under Imperius?” said Kingsley.

“I was,” said Remus. “But I think she’s right. The timing’s all wrong.”

Kingsley nodded. “I’m more and more convinced that this isn’t about the Death Eaters at all.”

“But they tried to recruit me,” Linus protested. “And Barker all but told us he was working for Tommy Riddle.”

There was a crash from the back of the shop as Chess knocked over a stack of packing crates. Fred Weasley attempted to ply him with another bit of salmon. “Settle down, you silly tomcat...”

“Say that again,” said Tonks suddenly.

“What, you want me to call you a silly tomcat, too? Okay.”

“No. You know something?” she said. “I think Sam’s friend is a girl-Tommie and not a boy-Tommy. Because really, I don’t know that many Ministry employees who are powerful enough to fix the Werewolf Registry and corrupt enough to bribe someone to bite Linus. And one of the ones I do know about has a thing for cat-related kitsch.”

“Umbridge,” said Kingsley. “Now that makes sense. It would certainly explain why they wanted to suppress the cartoons. I wondered why You-Know-Who would care.”

“I don’t expect Riddle wants the general public to associate him with Umbridge either,” Linus couldn’t resist pointing out. “It might tarnish his reputation.” But in his heart, he was sure the Aurors were right.

“Right, then,” said Tonks briskly. “Next stop, Scotland.” She glanced up at the Playwizard calendar on the wall of Fred and George’s back room, and frowned. “Bloody hell, the O.W.L.s have just begun. That means they won’t let any visitors onto the school grounds except for the outside examiners.”

“But surely that doesn’t apply to Aurors,” said Celia.

“Think again,” said Kingsley bitterly. “We’d have to obtain a warrant from the Ministry to enter the castle, and if we put down ‘arresting Dolores Umbridge’ as our reason, I can guarantee you that the paperwork would conveniently get lost. The woman’s got a finger in every pie.”

 

                                                            *          *          *

“Easy, Beaky boy. I know it hurts, but hold still, will you?” Sirius pressed a fresh pad of Acromantula silk against the hippogriff’s bleeding leg. “Moony, would you pass me that bowl of murtlap balm?”

“Here.” Remus frowned. “How do you think he did that to himself?”

“Probably been kicking at the walls again. Hippogriffs aren’t meant to be kept indoors.” Sirius patted Buckbeak’s neck and gave him a look that was full of fellow-feeling. “Poor old thing probably thinks he’s in prison. He’s more right than he knows. Sometimes I almost miss Azkaban. It was exciting, knowing your soul might get sucked out if you slept with your mouth open.”

Remus chose to ignore this last remark. “There isn’t any blood on the wall.”

“So?” Sirius didn’t seem much interested. “Maybe he was kicking something else.”

“Maybe.” Remus didn’t find this explanation satisfactory; but he would have been hard pressed to explain why he cared, so he let it go.

Sirius gave Buckbeak a last pat and allowed the hippogriff to nuzzle his shoulder. “Let’s go downstairs and have a drink before the others get here.”

Sirius went down the stairs and poured a generous measure of firewhiskey into two glasses. “To danger, excitement, and sudden death,” he said recklessly, throwing himself down into one of the chairs by the fire. “Or to watching the dust settle on the house-elf heads, whichever happens first. Let’s hope something happens to break the monotony around here.”

They had not finished their first round of drinks when something did happen, although it was almost certainly not the brand of excitement that Sirius had been hoping for. A silvery raven flew in through the window and perched atop one of the bookshelves.

“Ah, Black,” it croaked in a voice suspiciously reminiscent of Severus Snape. “You are well and enjoying your leisure as usual, I take it?”

“You know damn well the word ‘enjoying’ doesn’t come into it,” Sirius snapped. “I’m dying by inches of boredom in here.”

“That would be a welcome development rather than otherwise,” said the Patronus, “but as no more heroic cause of death seems to be imminent, I shall report back that your godson’s worries are groundless as soon as you produce the usual signal.”

“Wait!” Sirius demanded. “Harry’s worried? Why? Dammit!” The raven merely cawed, pretending that it had lost the power of human speech.

“Snape’s lucky to have a Patronus that can talk,” Remus commented. “Too bad it always tells you more than you need to know.”

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, really. Anyway – the usual signal. Right.” He reached for his wand.

“Would you like me to – I mean, you haven’t been having trouble with –”

“No, it’s all right. Expecto Patronum!”

Remus had not seen his friend’s Patronus in more than fifteen years. It was looking fuzzier around the edges than he remembered, but it hadn’t changed its essential form: a large, exotic-looking bird with a high crest. When they first learned how to cast a Patronus in seventh-year Defense, even the professor hadn’t been able to work out what it was.

“Did I tell you I finally found out what that silly-looking bird is?” Sirius said after it had flown off with the raven. “Well, actually I still don’t know what it’s called, but there were hundreds of them in the islands, after Buckbeak and I escaped.”

“Did you like it there?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful – green mountains and the bluest water you ever saw. You lie on the beach at night and listen to the water lapping and the wind blowing through the palm trees, and there are more stars than you’ve ever seen ... I’m going back there. After all this is over.”

“So that’s why it’s your Patronus. I always wondered.”

“I guess so. Funny it took me so many years to find out what it meant. Is yours still the same as ever?”

“You’re not ever going to let me live it down, are you?” Remus’ Patronus had earned him weeks of ribbing from his friends after they saw what form it took. “Yes. Expecto Patronum!”

The silvery dove circled the room and settled on Sirius’ shoulder. “I’m not about to laugh at peace, mate. Not after everything that’s happened.”

They watched as the dove’s outline blurred and faded, becoming indistinguishable from the dust of Twelve Grimmauld Place.

“Care for another drink?” Sirius asked.

“Just water, please. It’s coming on full moon.”

Sirius poured another generous measure of firewhiskey for himself and settled back into his chair. “To the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, which you’ve got to be a madman if you’ve got thoughts of joining, that’s not to say you wouldn’t be welcome if you do.”

“What do you mean, join the house?” Remus wondered how many drinks Sirius had consumed before his arrival and wished he had chosen something stronger than water, after all. “Don’t I already live in it?”

“I’m not blind, old mate. I’ve seen the way you look at my cousin. You fancy her.”

“Certainly not,” said Remus, trying to keep his voice light. “I don’t think Lucius would approve.”

“You know which cousin I’m talking about, you prat. I can’t help noticing that you and little Dora seem to be getting on rather well – and you’re always whispering together, and you jump apart as soon as I walk into the room...”

That was true; but it was because they were whispering about Sirius. Most of the time, anyway. “We’re friends,” said Remus firmly. “That’s all.”

“And you had two slices of that Pineapple Surprise Cake. If that isn’t a clear sign of a man in love, I don’t know what is.”

“It was a good cake,” Remus insisted.

“It. Had. Horseradish. In. It.”

“Yes, I thought it was a very original recipe. Maybe you’d be able to appreciate it if Kreacher hadn’t brought you up on boiled chicken and mush ... Where is Kreacher, anyway? Have you seen him lately?”

“Bloody hell, Moony, will you stop changing the subject?”

“Not until you try talking about something halfway sensible for a change.”

“Fine. Have it your way. But if the two of you should ever decide that you want to be more than friends – well, I think you’d be good for each other.”

Remus shook his head in disbelief. “How in the world do you reckon I’d be good for her? I mean, even if you leave aside my whole problem with the moon, I’m far too old for her and living on your charity –”

Sirius looked as if he were about to argue, but before he had a chance to say anything, the bolts on the front door slid apart and “little Dora” walked in, with a bottle of wine and several cartons of food from the Chinese takeaway under her arm. Remus greeted her with relief that was mingled with a touch of reserve. It had been a startling and unsettling conversation, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to think too hard about how he felt about her. When Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived a few minutes later, he busied himself pouring drinks and setting the table; but for some reason she always seemed to be at his elbow, making him feel uneasy and distracted.

After dinner, the conversation turned to Dolores Umbridge and what connection she might or might not have with the Death Eaters.

“There’s nothing,” said Kingsley flatly. “And I’ve been working overtime all week trying to dig up some connection. The woman’s a nasty piece of work, but she’s clean.”

“Or she’s very good at covering her tracks,” said Tonks. “I think Linus was right on the mark with that cartoon of his. Why else would she have gone to so much trouble to suppress it?”

Kingsley shook his head. “Even if her background wasn’t what it is, the psychology would be all wrong,” he said. I’m not saying she hasn’t done as much damage in her way as the Death Eaters have in theirs – but she hasn’t got the mind-set that makes people inclined to dabble in the Dark Arts. Every Dark wizard I’ve known has had a healthy disregard for the rules, and that woman worships them.”

“You young ones put too much stock in psychology,” Moody replied. “The woman’s got the soul of a Death Eater, mark my words, and I doubt she’d shrink from the Dark Arts if she thought she wouldn’t get caught. I’d not be surprised if she was the one who sent the dementors after Harry last summer.”

The others exchanged glances over Moody’s head. “No offense, Mad-Eye, but that one was worthy of the Quibbler,” said Sirius after a moment.

“All right, laddie, what’s your theory about how the Death Eaters knew to recruit Berowne?”

“I’ve been thinking,” said Sirius airily, leaning back in his chair, “because really, there isn’t anything else to do around here, and I was wondering about that, and also about the Healer who was attacked a few weeks ago, and that Unspeakable fellow who was murdered ... Bode, right?” He leaned forward, and the front legs of the chair hit the floor with a thump. “It all seems to come back to St. Mungo’s, doesn’t it?”

Remus frowned. The trouble with having friends who were geniuses was that they never made sense. “Could you expand on that?” he asked after a moment.

Sirius opened his mouth, but before he could speak, he was interrupted by a loud croak from the window. Severus Snape’s Patronus had returned.

“The Potter boy,” it announced once it had got everybody’s attention, “seems to have disappeared. He had Miss Granger with him the last time he was seen, and several other students appear to be missing.”

Sirius got up and strode toward the window. “What d’you mean, disappeared?” he demanded. “Your master’s meant to be their teacher, why wasn’t he keeping an eye on them?”

“He was – insofar as one can keep an eye on a loose cannon who keeps charging into the Forbidden Forest without warning, and without so much as a by-your-leave. He seemed to be under the impression that you were in some sort of danger.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What kind of danger?”

“His exact words were ‘He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden.’ I must say that it seems absurdly childish for a man of thirty-six to use a schoolboy nickname with his ward, but his meaning was clear enough. The boy believes you to be held captive at the Department of Mysteries, and I can only surmise that he and his friends have gone there.” The raven hopped onto the mantlepiece. “The boy is certainly fond of playing the hero. I suppose he gets it from his sainted father. On the bright side, he seems likely to inherit a tragically short life-span, as well.”

“Fuck you, Snivellus!” Sirius lunged at the Patronus as if to wring its neck, hit the wall instead, and bruised his knuckles rather badly. Remus and Kingsley pulled him back.

“Control yourself, Black. I am certainly not the one who put the boy in danger. I have only come to report his absence and to see if there are any volunteers willing to save his skin.”

“Yes, yes, we all volunteer.” Tonks looked as if she wouldn’t mind attacking the raven herself. “Is there anything more?”

“I have brought a message to Dumbledore, and he should be arriving here shortly. I need to see if I can track down the rest of the Order, so I suppose Black may as well fill him in on events. It will make him feel useful.” With this parting shot, Snape’s Patronus vanished, and the room filled with a flurry of chatter as the Order members pulled on protective gear and reached for their wands.

Sirius stood up. “I’m coming with you.”

There was a moment of silence. Kingsley, Tonks, and Moody all looked at Remus. Sirius did not.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you,” said Remus. “It’s water under the bridge now, and his loss if he can’t let go of the past.”

“I’m not letting him get to me.” Sirius’ voice was weary. “It’s just that James trusted me to look after Harry, and if – when I see him again, I don’t fancy having to explain to him why I stood by and did nothing while his son was in danger. And – well – if I can’t do this much for the Order, what am I supposed to do? Stare at the house-elf heads and go slowly mad?”

It took Remus several seconds to realize that the others were still staring at him. The combination of Wolfsbane and alcohol was doing funny things to his perceptions, and he felt as if he were looking at them all through a curtain of water. All except Padfoot, who was just – himself.

After a moment, he nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”