Defence Against the Dark Creature

Chapter 11

Very rarely had Remus felt sorry for Severus Snape. Very rarely had Severus Snape given other people the occasion to feel sorry for him: because, naturally, pity was one of the things he despised the most. But when Remus saw the Potions teacher on the first Sunday after the Christmas holidays, he suddenly understood what a hard life the man led.

He didn't have any injuries, but it was clear how hurt and exhausted Snape felt by the way he moved, by the way he gritted his teeth while speaking, and by his hoarse voice. Apparently, Voldemort had indulged in a bit of torturing of all of his Death Eaters the night before, simply because they hadn't returned to him earlier. And apparently, Peter had stood by his side and laughed.

Remus shivered. He didn't know which thought was worse; that of Peter screaming under torture, or that of him laughing while others were tortured. Neither was in any way compatible with the Peter who had been his friend.

"Do you think he suspects you?" asked Dumbledore, handing Snape a cup of tea. The other man accepted it with trembling hands and Remus looked away quickly. He was sure that the worst part of it all was that Snape felt humiliated in front of the other Order members; perhaps especially in front of him.

"I don't think so, no, but I can never be sure," Snape replied. "He's made a few comments in that direction, since he knows about the evidence you gave. But I think he was just testing me. I've told him I was never a spy for you, that I was merely pretending to have seen the error of my ways."

"In any case, you must be very careful, Severus." The lines on Dumbledore's forehead deepened. He turned to the rest of the silent assembly (even Fletcher was looking worried about Snape). "I've no word from Hagrid yet, but I'm not surprised. The giants won't trust a half human so quickly. Remus, have you found a way to contact the werewolves yet?"

Remus shook his head. "No. The Werewolf Registry won't give me their names, whatever reason I give. I've been trying to find them through more unofficial ways now, by following rumours and hearsay, but it's a tedious process."

Molly looked up from her cup. "Why don't you ask Miss Merlot to help you?" She gave him a half-smile, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. How he wished she would stop. "Perhaps she could pretend that she needs to contact them for school matters."

Remus smiled wryly. "That's a good idea, actually."

~~~

"So did you get to see Snuffles today?" Charlotte asked as they were stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron later that day.

"What?" Remus' heart stopped for a split second, and he turned around. How did she know...?

Charlotte frowned, her expression not betraying any second thoughts. "You said he lived in Hogsmeade with a friend, I thought you might have stopped by after the meeting."

"Oh." He mentally cursed himself for reacting in such an obvious manner. "No, I didn't go there today, but I do every other Sunday."

"I love dogs. And yours is especially nice to children, I like that."

Remus smiled. "Yes, he's always been extremely fond of children, although the opposite's not always the case."

They had arrived at the telephone box that was the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic. After stating their name and business, stepping out of the lift into the Entrance Hall and having their wands inspected (this time, the responsible wizard definitely knew Remus' name, and stared at him in a mixture of interest and repulsion), they proceeded to the lifts.

"How often have you been there?" asked Charlotte, as they waited in front of the lifts. Remus wasn't sure he wanted to talk about this in front of all the other people waiting with them; but then, if even he failed to talk about it normally, who ever would? Charlotte was right in approaching the matter so naturally.

"I try to avoid it." He sighed. "I can't stand those annual checks, but we also have to declare any long-term jobs, so last time I went there was when I was appointed teacher at Hogwarts. The jobs I had afterwards never exactly qualified as long-term, though, so I spared myself the annoyance."

At this, the elderly woman next to them, who had already looked once at the "teacher at Hogwarts", fixed Remus again with an interested stare.

"I didn't know you had to register jobs," said Charlotte. "That's awful. Must make you feel like you're not actually a free person."

"Well, well, Charlotte." Remus smiled. "Don't forget we're not even persons. We're just pets on a very loose leash."

"Bastards."

They travelled to the fourth floor in silence; the woman was still staring at them when they got off the lift.

When they had reached the door to the Werewolf Registry, however, Remus stopped short. He now fully remembered his last visit, and he had suddenly realized whom he had with him this time.

"Charlotte, I want you to promise me something." He fixed her with an earnest look.

But Charlotte smiled wickedly at him, and before he could say anything else, she prompted, in a very deep voice and a serious tone: "Don't jump at anyone's throat, Charlotte. Don't yell, don't throw any furniture, and don't say 'Bastards.'" She changed mimics, and turned into a sweet little girl. "Yes, sir."

Remus laughed. "I see we understand each other."

"Yes, sir."

They entered, Remus with his stomach twisting horribly as it always did when he came here. He was glad Charlotte was with him. Some part of him wanted to grab her arm for protection, but he resisted.

"Can I help you?"

A young woman Remus had never seen before sat at the counter in front of them. She must be new, he thought, judging by her smile. A rather wary half-smile, but a smile.

"Remus Lupin, and this is Charlotte Merlot."

"Oh." Miss Taylor, as it said on her name tag, looked quickly from one to the other; she obviously knew who both of them were. However, her smile still didn't fade completely. "How can I help you, Miss Merlot, Mr Lupin?"

Charlotte threw a quick glance at Remus, and he could see hope - and a change of plans.

"Miss Taylor, I'll be frank with you," she said, and Remus realized that she was now relying completely on her instincts. He hoped her instincts never deceived her. "I need new teachers for my school, but the Ministry is more or less ignoring my demands. As you know, I hired Mr Lupin here in September, and that gave me the idea to look for other adult werewolves. Not only would most of them be looking for a job, but they would also be ideally suited for teaching at my school."

This was not entirely true, of course - adult werewolves who had not been as privileged as him weren't very likely to be useful, balanced members of society. Remus felt a twinge of shame.

"So all I am asking for," Charlotte continued, "is for you to help me contact them. I just need their names and where they are. That's all."

Miss Taylor's smile had faded, and she was now looking considerably intimidated. "Perhaps you should discuss this with Mr Foddersworth..."

"Mr Foddersworth," said Charlotte, and Remus could clearly hear the disgust in her voice, "is not going to give me any information if he can help it."

"Then I don't see how I could." Miss Taylor shrugged, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, Miss Merlot, but I have my -"

"Look," Remus cut in. "Nobody would have to know. This is entirely in your own hands. Do you think we are likely to run to your boss and tell him? Neither are any of the people we intend to contact. Please, we need your help."

Miss Taylor gulped, looking down at her hands twisting together. She must be in her early twenties, Remus assumed, and he wondered why she had chosen this job. Or had she been transferred here?

After a short while that seemed like an eternity, Miss Taylor cleared her throat. "Well," she said. "I do think the Centre for Lycanthropic Children is a good idea. I read the article the Daily Prophet wrote about you -"

Charlotte gave a short, mirthless laugh. "You read that article, and you still think it's a good idea?"

Miss Taylor smiled, and this time it was an open, honest smile. "I've learned to read between the lines." She bit her lower lip, and finally she seemed to come to a decision. "All right. If you can promise me that nobody will ever find out I gave you this list..."

She went to a filing cabinet on the other end of the room, and after a few minutes of searching, took out a long roll of parchment, waved her wand over it, and handed them the copy.

"Thank you very much, Miss Taylor," Remus said, in as sincere a tone as he could muster. He still didn't like the Werewolf Registry, but this woman was a nice surprise.

She looked up at him, and there was a tinge of red in her cheeks. "You're welcome, Mr Lupin."

They were halfway through the door when a barely audible cough from the secretary called them back. "Er... there is something else I should give you," she said in a very low voice, still wearing the self-conscious look of someone who was breaking the law for the first time in their life - but she seemed to be getting used to it rather quickly.

"The Daily Prophet sent these," she said, pulling a small stack of parchment out of a drawer. It seemed that she had been absolutely sure where it was, and Remus got the suspicion that she pulled it out of there several times a day.

"They're letters addressed to the Centre," she continued, "but the Prophet seemed to think we'd have, er, a better use for them." Looking around, she lowered her voice even more and added: "Mr Foddersworth thinks I've burnt them, actually."

Charlotte, taking the letters from Miss Taylor, looked slightly apprehensive. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't worry, they -" she stopped, suddenly, and they could hear footsteps approaching the door to Foddersworth's office. Miss Taylor made one frantic movement with her hand, and they hurried out, mouthing 'thank you' to her one more time, and Remus saw her blush as he smiled at her gratefully.

"That was nice of her," commented Charlotte, when they had reached a safe distance.

"Yes, very helpful," Remus replied, ignoring her tone. "Who would have thought? When I last came here, Foddersworth's secretary was a half-dead man who kept rasping about the different methods of killing werewolves."

Charlotte threw him a short, pained look; then she smiled again. "Well, this girl is really a stark contrast, then! Rather taken with werewolves, even..."

"I know exactly where you're going. Don't."

Charlotte grinned, and finally stopped her teasing. "Fancy a coffee in the city? I'd like to read those letters before we get back."

"Good idea."

They settled down in a comfortable café in a small street off Charing Cross Road. Remus was grateful they had come in Muggle clothing, as nothing would have been less anonymous than Diagon Alley right now. After a few minutes, very reluctantly, they set down their mugs, and Charlotte, having handed him half of the letters, started to read the first one aloud.

"To Miss Merloue - I'm going to kill those folks - and her staff: Thank you for the work you are doing to keep our neighbourhood safe. It is good to know that these werewolves are not running around attacking humans - oh, bloody hell."

Remus sighed. "Go on."

" - and I hope you have enough sense in you not to raise them as equal members of our society. They never will be, and they must not try to dissimulate their condition, thus endangering our children. - I can't read this shit, Remus. Oh, hang on - Please do not take my words to mean that I don't consider these werewolves as children to be cared for; I do, but they are not normal, and you must not run the danger of making them believe otherwise. Sincerely yours, Pirithos Pitiful-Prick-Pallas."

"Interesting name."

"What an idiot!" Charlotte exploded, as suddenly as loudly, and the couple next to them (who had been gazing into each other's eyes ever since they had come in) started. Charlotte didn't notice, or didn't care. "How many more bloody hypocrites does this world need? How many more Mr Pallas's who feel oh so compassionate when they are actually cold-hearted bastards?"

The couple next to them moved very discreetly to the other side of the café.

"I was beginning to feel disturbed by their utterly speechless adoration anyway," Remus commented in a casual tone, and he could feel Charlotte's wrath turning on him before she had even spoken.

"Remus, snap out of your distanced cynicism and get the hell involved," she snarled.

"Involved?" He raised an eyebrow, not caring that his tone had turned a shade cooler. "No-one could be more involved than me, I think."

"You know what I mean. Damn it, Remus, I know this is your defence mechanism, but it's also a very easy way out for a man who's actually much stronger than that."

He snorted. As if she had any idea how much strength there would be left... "Not that I don't appreciate the compliment, but how, exactly, is your way of dealing with things more productive than mine?"

She leaned back, frowning, and he knew that her rage had flown by once more. "It's productive in that I manage to let off steam, I guess. That way I can be ready for the next blow."

"Which you then react to in exactly the same way. Pablo is right, you know - you do get angry much too easily, and you waste your energy and your happiness for getting completely mad at situations and at people you just cannot change."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Fine. And you give up much too easily and approach people with far too much suspicion and pride."

"Fine."

They laughed, suddenly.

"Next letter?"

"Your turn."

"Dear Miss Merlot - wow, they must have researched your name -, please accept my heartfelt condolences for having had to work with the Daily Prophet. I have had the same misfortune a couple of times, and it has always been nothing short of a disaster. I do hope you know that there are members of the wizarding world who do not take a word that scandal rag writes seriously. So much for my introductory words..."

"I like that person!" Charlotte exclaimed, looking suddenly wholeheartedly hopeful again, and Remus had to suppress a groan.

"I was very interested to learn about the Centre for Lycanthropic Children; I had not been aware that this facility existed. I have been wanting to work with lycanthropes for quite some time now, but... well, let's say the Werewolf Support Services were always less than helpful. To get to the point: I have been studying the Wolfsbane Potion for some years past, and I would love to be allowed the occasion to test its effectiveness. And how satisfying it would be to combine an intellectual success with the joy of knowing I have helped the children in your care! - Is it just me, or does this person sound a bit too enthusiastic?"

"You're too sceptical. Read on." She had moved forward and was now almost leaning across the table.

"Please consider my offer and contact me at the following address - etc etc. I should add that I would be gratified to supply the ingredients until we manage to raise enough funds from those witches and wizards who understand how important this is. In the hope of hearing from your soon, I remain humbly yours, etc etc. PS. Miss Merlot, I found the article published in Which Cauldron? describing your alternative approach to teaching Potions highly entertaining; the nowadays highly rigid and theoretical magical world needs more intuitive instructors like you, if I may say so."

"Who is this person?" Charlotte asked, sounding quite delighted.

"It's hard to decipher... hang on - oh, that rings a bell. Augustus Amselnest?"

"Augustus Amselnest?!" she shouted, and Remus looked around quickly - but there was nobody left in the café, and the waitress was beginning to look sour. Charlotte noticed this time, and smiled apologetically. "Augustus Amselnest?" she repeated in a low tone.

"He's a celebrity of some sorts, isn't he?" Remus asked, wondering where he had read the name before. Probably in some textbook at school.

"He is the greatest Potions Master of our time!" Charlotte's voice had an awed tone to it that Remus had never heard in it before. "He must be around one hundred and fifty years old, and before him, his father was the uncontested ring leader, so-to-speak. They're a family of geniuses, Remus. Nobody knows where he lives, though, since he made his place Unplottable when he grew tired of all the fans lingering around..."

Remus was growing more and more amused. "Do you mean to say that there are people who worship Potions Masters?"

"Well," she said, and her cheeks were slightly flushed now, "he's come up with the most ingenious antidotes and medicine - he's helped lots of people. And his writing style is really funny."

"I can gather as much."

"I can't believe Augustus Amselnest wants to work with us!" Charlotte breathed. "And he read my article! Stop looking at me like that."

"Sorry, but it's too funny. I've never seen you as the type that admires celebrities, you know."

"Oh, don't be silly. He's a hundred and twenty years older than me."

"I've heard that many women like older men."

"True; Miss Taylor certainly seems to," Charlotte replied in a would-be casual tone, and Remus pretended to look shocked.

"I beg your pardon! I hope you're not equating our age difference with yours..."

At which Charlotte threw back her head and laughed; and the waitress who, Remus knew, had been on the verge of throwing them out, couldn't help smiling.

~~~

"What's the name?"

"Hildegard Pallas."

"Pallas? That rings a bell."

"Isn't that the name of some Ancient Greek witch?"

Remus gave Nora an approving look. "Very good memory! I don't think I knew all of their names at your age. Though bear in mind that we're not quite sure whether they were really wizards; it's just an assumption."

"True. Well, Olivier is a bit obsessed with Greek mythology, he keeps going on about it."

She gave a little cough and blushed, as she always did when mentioning her boyfriend, and Remus smiled to himself.

They crossed the street and came to a halt under a street sign, and Nora sighed exasperatedly. "Ah, I can't believe it... I've messed up again!"

Remus laughed. "That's fine, the weather is nice. Although we do need to do something about your sense of direction. We could still use a Locating Charm..."

"Oh, give me a chance! So I haven't been to Bath for about five years - thank God - but I can still find my way around. After a while."

Remus was silent. Bath was one of the most beautiful cities he knew, but Nora had not been happy here as a child. He had been surprised that she had agreed to come along in the first place; he knew she was scared of running into someone she knew. But even though they had now been looking for Merwyn Street for half an hour (the hidden wizarding district was rather larger than Remus had expected) he was still grateful Nora had come along. He liked spending time with her, she was pleasant company - and it was very good to take one of the children along to one of these visits, as they had found out during the last few months.

Ever since they had obtained the werewolves' addresses from Miss Taylor at the Werewolf Registry back in January, Remus and the other teachers had been using their free time to contact, or rather try and contact them. Some of them, but fewer than Remus had expected, had slammed doors into their faces when hearing about the school and Voldemort; there were only a few who had reacted in a downright positive manner. But although Remus would have thought that those who had refused to even listen to them would be most likely to listen to the other side, it didn't seem like that now. These people were certainly disillusioned by the wizarding world and did not want to have anything to do with it anymore; but he was sure that they also denied their lycanthropy to themselves most of the time, and so would be unlikely to use it in Voldemort's service. No, those who had been wary and noncommital would need watching the most, somehow - which would be hard, as they constituted the majority.

He sighed, watching Nora looking around, trying to orientate herself. At least things had looked up a bit ever since they had decided to take the children along to these visits; it had turned out that while Remus' presence hardly reassured adult werewolves, they reacted differently when confronted with younger versions of themselves. Remus had tried to point out to Charlotte that only a few of their students were suited for this, character-wise, but she had shaken her head and insisted that all of them would need to confront reality sooner or later. That having been said, Remus had noticed that neither María Aciano nor Aimée Martin had joined any of the visits yet. Even Charlotte, it seemed, was too worried about their delicate constitution.

"Oh, stupid!" Nora exclaimed suddenly. "Now I know where we are..."

"That's the third time you've said that," Remus commented, catching up with her.

She gave him a half-glare. Everything about Nora was 'half', most of the time - half-glares, half-smiles, half-laughs. "Yes, but this time I'm really sure. This way."

They walked down an alley that had seemed much like Knockturn Alley as they walked past it, but suddenly changed to look like the Champs-Elysées when they entered it, and Remus had to keep himself from whistling a tune he had learned in French class many, many years ago.

"Professor Lupin?" she asked, after they had been walking down the impressive street for a while, gazing at the houses around them in awe.

"Nora?" He realized it was beginning to feel strange, her calling him by his last name; they felt so much like colleagues that he sometimes found it hard to draw the line.

"Have you noticed anything odd about Andrej and Nikolai lately?" Her tone was conversational, but he noticed her furtive look at him.

"I have," he said. "They've been even more quiet than usual since Christmas. Did they tell you anything about how their visit to Moscow went?"

She shrugged. "I asked them the other day, and they said it was good. But they still seemed really subdued."

Remus smiled quietly to himself; Nora really was a born Alpha.

"I was wondering whether it was because they were confronted with their hometown and all those memories," she went on, and added, very quietly, "I can't blame them."

Remus resisted the urge to put an arm around her shoulder. "Yes, I was thinking that too. It's not very easy to come back to the town where you suffered so much. Especially in their case, I guess, considering their history..."

Nora nodded, and Remus wondered why he had never asked her what life had been like for her in Bath. Probably because it was so hard to gain her trust, and asking for information she usually kept private seemed like such a risk.

But Nora was also full of surprises.

"I'm glad we ended up at this part of the district," she said, still in that conversational tone. "I lived at the other part, over there." She waved a hand into the distance to their left.

"Whom did you live with?" Remus asked, feeling that it was safe to ask now.

"My grandmother, who was thankfully, er, rather forgetful, so she didn't often remember what I was." Nora breathed deeply and looked up into the darkening sky. "I guess that's why they sent me to her. She taught me at home, and most of the time she believed that it was because I'd never got along with my classmates. Then sometimes she would remember where I went every month - I went to the Ministry - and..." She gulped, then gave a short laugh. "Well, let's say it was always a nice moment when her eyes began to glaze over again."

"She never showed any sign of accepting it?" Remus asked, almost feeling physically ill thinking about how Nora had been mistreated by her family. She hadn't even mentioned her parents yet.

"Well, she's started writing to me lately, and I think filling out the address reminds her nicely every time what school exactly I am at. She never mentions it directly in her letters, of course, but it's pretty obvious."

"She does write to you. That's good."

Nora nodded.

"What about your parents?"

"What parents? Mr and Mrs Hartfield's daughter died seven years ago, that's what they tell everyone. Grandma told me, once."

This time, Remus did lay his hand on her shoulder, briefly. He was reminded of his visit to France, and being confronted with Anne-Laure's father who denied having a daughter at all. He couldn't imagine what it would be like, growing up with the knowledge that your parents hated you.

"What about you?" Nora asked, as they were walking into a street off the 'Champs-Elysées'. "If I may ask," she added quickly.

"Of course you may." He smiled. "I had very tolerant and loving parents, thankfully. They worked very hard to ensure that I led a comfortable life, for which I will be eternally grateful."

"What happened to them? I mean, are they -"

"Dead, yes. They died by the hands of one of Voldemort's Death Eaters many years ago." He felt a shadow of the old pain returning as he said it, and quickly buried it again.

"I'm sorry," Nora replied, and Remus suddenly noticed that she hadn't flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name. She had a few months ago, along with the other children, when Remus had told them about Voldemort's return. Like Dumbledore, he thought that you were never too young to hear about such things.

"Er, here we are," Nora said into a slightly awkward silence. "14a Merwyn Street, wasn't it?" They had stopped in front of a large, handsome house, and the letter-box read 'Pallas'.

"Nice place," Nora commented, her eyebrows raised. Remus nodded. The houses they had been to in the last few months had ranged from extremely shabby to moderately comfortable, but none of the people they had contacted lived in a house that could rival this. Remus thought of his own small cottage, and of the many years during which he had barely managed to pay the estate tax.

They rang the bell, and it took so long until it was answered that they had already turned to leave when the door opened, revealing a tall, exquisitely dressed lady in her fifties. She was wearing a thick layer of make-up, a lot of jewellery, a lot of curly blond hair tied into an enormous knot on the top of her head, and a distantly benevolent expression: in short, she was one of those women Remus and his friends had always made fun of as teenagers; those women who went to concerts by The Philharmagic because they worshipped the first violinist, and who lingered around at the after-concert-parties, trying to make interesting conversation.

However, he wasn't so sure he had ever heard of a werewolf in those circles.

"Mrs Pallas?" he ventured, having no idea whether she was married or not, and still finding it hard to believe that this was the woman they were looking for.

She nodded, looking at them curiously. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Remus Lupin, and this is Nora Hartfield." Nora gave her friendliest smile, but Mrs Pallas' look hardened ever so slightly. She had heard of him, then.

"How may I help you, Mr Lupin?" she repeated, sounding nervous.

"We don't mean to intrude into your life, Mrs Pallas," he said, slightly annoyed at the phrase he had had to repeat a lot lately. "We would just like to tell you about our school, and to establish a sort of information network between -" He faltered here; it would surely be a bad idea to mention any word related to lycanthropy with the possibility of neighbours listening in. And considering the type of area they were in, this wasn't at all unlikely. "May we come in?"

She nodded and showed them inside. There was reluctance in her demeanour, but above all relief, Remus thought, and congratulated himself on judging her correctly. He wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that none of her neighbours knew that there was a werewolf living in their midst.

Mrs Pallas brought them tea - she hadn't accepted no for an answer - and sat down, straightened the folds in her dress for a minute, then looked up. "How did you find me, if I may ask?"

Now that her relief at being well out of neighbourly earshot had passed, she seemed anxious and very closed off. It looked as though only the good manners that were ingrained in her were keeping her from throwing them out again. At least she's not denying what she is, Remus thought. They had met a few people like that, too.

Admitting that they had found her through the Werewolf Registry would have cost Miss Taylor her job; many times already, they had avoided the full truth in case the respective person sent an angry owl to the Ministry. "We have a contact at the Ministry who managed to procure us the list of all the registered werewolves in the UK; the Werewolf Registry is not aware that we have this list. A slightly illegal procedure, but a necessary one, we felt."

Fortunately, even those who usually threw them out after a few minutes shared their profound dislike of the Ministry institution; Remus didn't know how someone in his and their position could have liked Foddersworth and his subordinates.

"But you are here incognito, I take it," Mrs Pallas went on, sounding very worried. Remus gave her a reassuring smile.

"Nobody knows we're here."

She nodded, and seemed slightly relaxed after this. "How can I help you, then? You said you wanted to talk about the school. Centre for Lycanthropic Children, was it? Are you a student there?" she addressed Nora, who looked slightly baffled. It seemed as though Mrs Pallas, even when intimidated, liked to have control over the conversation.

"Yes, I am," Nora confirmed. There are twenty-one students from all over the world, and we have five teachers. Oh, and if you read that article in the Daily Prophet, it twisted a lot of facts about us..."

"Oh, don't worry, dear, I never read the Daily Prophet, completely biased paper, if you ask me. I have a subscription to Witch Weekly. I did hear about the school from my friends at the Wizarding Chess Club, however..." Her expression darkened, and Remus knew his suspicion confirmed: her friends knew nothing about her lycanthropy, and had probably told the story in a manner that had deeply wounded Mrs Pallas. However, she quickly seemed to recover, and addressed Nora again. Still with reluctance, but with obvious interest at the same time.

"How do you manage... er... transformations, then? Do you have the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"We have it now," interjected Remus. "The Potions Master Augustus Amselnest has been providing it for us since January."

"Augustus Amselnest! How interesting!" Mrs Pallas exclaimed, and Remus thought with amusement that he would have to ask Charlotte whether she had a subscription to Witch Weekly as well.

"Do you all go to the Ministry, then?" she continued.

Interesting. That meant she didn't...

"No, we transform together in an enclosed space at the school," said Nora.

Mrs Pallas leaned forward. "Together! That's wonderful." At their inquiring looks, she leaned back again and started stirring her tea vigorously, then muttered, almost to herself: "I go to my cousin's place in Greece every month. She... errr... is a werewolf as well."

"Your cousin?"

"Yes, she... she bit me." Mrs Pallas set her cup down. "It was an accident, I assure you..."

Remus smiled. "Mrs Pallas, I am not inquiring after your history, nor after your private life. We have merely come here to inform you about the school - and about other matters."

"Other... matters?" She got up to pour them more tea, only to see that they hadn't touched theirs, so she refilled her own cup and sat down again. It looked as though she needed to move around in order to cover her nervousness.

"Yes. I am afraid we must inform you that Lord Voldemort has returned to full power and is currently recruiting new followers." It was a good thing he had waited until she had sat down again, because she was now clutching her heart and staring at him out of wide eyes.

"It can't be true..." she whispered, and it looked like she had half a mind to faint. Even if it was only for the dramatic effect.

"It is true. And he is especially keen on recruiting werewolves." Somehow, being confronted with people who were keen on beating around the bush and never called a cauldron a cauldron, always gave him the most sadistic desire to shake them out of their lethargy. Sometimes it even worked.

"Well, I am definitely never going to work for You-Know-Who, if that is what you are suggesting, Mr Lupin!" said Mrs Pallas, sounding quite outraged, and Remus actually believed her. Even if it was only because she would never break rules - but then, there was also something else about her, a distinct feeling he got that she was much more profound and sensitive than she pretended to be.

"I am glad to hear it."

"Are there... I mean, have you met people who would?"

"We fear there is a large potential there, yes. No-one has actually told us they were going to join him, of course. But there's a great... dissatisfaction, to put it mildly, with the way we are treated by the wizarding society..." Why was he telling her all this? Wasn't she just another disillusioned werewolf whom they would have to work hard to convince to help them?

But Hildegard Pallas set down her cup, put a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded slowly and thoughtfully. "That is why some of us try to get around all of this by avoiding exposure in the first place. It might seem strange to you, but the only ones who know about my - well, you know - are my family. Or ex-family, shall I say." And suddenly, to Remus's surprise, this strict-looking woman launched into a monologue about her life as a werewolf in hiding. Remus exchanged an astonished look with Nora - he could see that they had both underestimated this woman's openness, or perhaps her need to share her story with somebody.

"I must say," Remus said, when Mrs Pallas finally took a breath and emptied her third cup of tea, "that I'm quite impressed by your being able to keep it secret all these years - how long?"

"Twenty-three years, now." The woman shrugged and waved a vague hand around the room. "It's easier with all this, I suppose. People don't wonder why you don't have a job." She was speaking of her wealth as though it annoyed her, and Remus suppressed a slight feeling of disgust.

"Then, of course, Pirithos found out," Mrs Pallas continued. "My husband, you know. He had to find out one day, I suppose... we divorced and told nobody the real reason, and I was left with a lot of money I had inherited..." She trailed off. Her voice had almost broken on the last few words. But she was one of these persons, Remus knew, who hated showing any kind of weakness - it was a trait he was familiar with, though perhaps in another form.

Pride, Charlotte would have said, and she was right - the same pride that now held him back from pointing out the obvious. But when they finally said goodbye and she smiled at Nora for the first time, Remus got the inkling that they had not seen the last of Hildegard Pallas.

***