Subplot

15 - Lupin

At least the moon wasn't full this Christmas. He felt he should be grateful for small blessings. Tonight, only the thinnest sickle of the crescent moon was in the sky and his next nights of transformation, of pain and of loneliness, were almost another two weeks away. Lupin rubbed at the ice-flower covered window pane of the Spellie's Lab, as people had started to call their work space in the west wing. Beyond the half-transparent, glistening crystals, there was more white still: Outside, it was snowing furiously. The Hogwarts ground was enveloped in white plush. Lupin blew at his fingers; his breath immediately turned into a cloud of steam and formed a few tiny crystals on the part of the pane he had just freed of ice. The Lab had been a cold place even in autumn, but now it was becoming unbearably icy. Shivering slightly, he found he could not draw his gaze from the snowy grounds. Sirius had taken yesterday's copy of the Daily Prophet to the loo with him; he would not be back for a while. He should be cleaning up the Lab before retiring; tonight they would not work. Really, he should get going instead of idly gazing out the window, he told himself, instead of reminiscing about youthful snowball fights, about four boys, about four animals romping in the freshly fallen snow. Yet he stayed where he was.

Suddenly out of the haze of whirling snowflakes, something garishly pink appeared. Something pink and large, he realised; to be precise, an enormous pink flying Cadillac appeared out of the snow storm. It landed neatly in front of Hogwarts' imposing portal; the headlights, weak as they were in this weather, were switched off. Lupin retained his place at the window, wondering who on earth could be arriving at Hogwarts' in a pink flying Cadillac, and what's more, arriving at Christmas Eve.

For a minute or so the Cadillac just sat there, as if its occupant was dreading to come out into the snowstorm. Just as its door finally opened, Lupin could discern a figure running down the steps from the portal, sliding on the snow, catching herself just before she fell down the steps and then making her way to the Cadillac. From the flying black hair and the ludicrous purple cloak he could tell it was Varlerta. The man emerging from the car could hardly properly erect himself before she had reached him; then she threw her arms around him and, if Lupin saw correctly, kissed him on both cheeks.

Lupin did not like what he saw. He suspected that Sirius had an interest in the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and, let's face it, he thought, if anyone in this castle deserved a change for the better in his love life, it was Sirius. Two weeks ago his friend had hinted that something was 'not right' with Varlerta, but by now such disturbing thoughts seemed to be forgotten. Lupin watched the stranger hug Varlerta back, unload the boot of the Cadillac, then saw the two of them carry a trunk and a wooden crate towards the castle. Curiosity overcame him. He knew it would be kind to stay with Sirius now, especially if the new arrival was some sort of resurrected boyfriend of Varlerta. But, he thought, if I can't get a look at him, I can't find out, can I? 'Down at the Hall,' he wrote on a piece of parchment, then took off to make his message come true.

His instinct had been right: The Great Hall was where the action was right now, and where else could Varlerta be heading with her visitor? A seductive smell of cinnamon pervaded the air; mistletoes were magically suspended from the gently snowing ceiling. While Hagrid, Flitwick and Minerva busied themselves with the twelve Christmas trees, a few more teachers sat around there, chatting. The staff room was cosy enough for official staff meetings, Lupin knew from his own experience. Having a cup of tea with the other teachers while watching Flitwick outdo himself with glittering decorations was better, though, especially as the usual holiday quietness gave the teachers a bit more privacy.

Varlerta and her visitor both set down their burdens, shed their cloaks and shook some snowflakes from their hair. A closer look at the stranger sent a wave of pity through Lupin: He was by far the most remarkably handsome man he had ever seen. Combining the built of an athlete with the subtle grace of a dancer off duty, his tall figure clad in a plain blue robe seemed to radiate in the twilit Hall. The stranger's face, tanned just to the extent of not looking out of place on a winter's day, framed by fashionably dishevelled, shoulder-long golden hair, looked like something you see on a magazine cover rather than in real life. Casting a quick glance around him, Lupin saw all heads in the hall turn to the stranger. Heather Sprout was gawking at him, her teacup, suspended in mid-air, all but forgotten. Varlerta was beaming at her guest in obvious admiration. Poor Sirius, Lupin thought again.

While Varlerta introduced the stranger to everyone in the hall, Lupin strategically chose a seat: He sat down between Snape at the far end of the teacher group, and the disorderly heap of luggage and cloaks Varlerta and the stranger had left on a some chairs along the empty table. Then he helped himself to some hot chocolate and put a few marshmallows into his cup.

"You are not supposed to be seen in here," Snape told him without conviction.

"Dumbledore decided it would be safe for me to officially visit Hogwarts around Christmas, especially as it does not fall into the dangerous time of the month," Lupin replied. Snape was fiddling with his teaspoon, looking away as Varlerta and the stranger approached them.

"Hi Lupin." Varlerta, glowing with good mood, gave him a broad smile. "This is my friend and band mate Roary Lyons from New York. Roary, this is Remus Lupin, one of my many predecessors and presently a Spellsearcher."

"Nice to meet you!" Roary had a melodious voice, a winning smile and eyes so blue Lupin tried to discern whether he was wearing dyed contacts. Roary's handshake was firm and dry. All hostess, Varlerta pulled a chair back for him, sat down beside him and, with a tap of her wand at an empty china coffeepot, ordered coffee from the house elves.

"Severus Snape, wasn't it?" Roary turned to Lupin's neighbour. Snape nodded curtly.

"The Potions genius with the mood hair problem. Var wrote a lot about you." Unruffled by Snape's continued scowl and flashing green hair, Roary turned back to Lupin. "About you, too. In a way I feel I know everybody here already, but it's quite exciting to be here in person now. I hope you'll give me a tour later."

Still grinning, Varlerta said: "I can't believe you're here. You did an immensely good job with your surprise. But tell me, what brings you to Britain, especially on Christmas?" A wisp of worry ran over her face. "Are Pat and Aisha ok?" She poured coffee from the magically refilled pot for Roary and herself.

Roary laughed in a deep, mellow tone. "Don't worry, everything's fine. Or rather, mostly fine. Pat and I decided to have a peaceful Christmas for once, so I sent him to his mom's on his own this year. I was going to see my sister in Florida, but her kids have all got the measles and she asked me to stay away. So I decided the best I could do on Christmas is to pay you a little surprise visit. As for Aisha - well, I hate to tell you, but I' afraid she's back together with what's-his-name."

"Oh no! That jerk. Poor Aisha. Since when, for goodness' sake?" Varlerta frowned, but her eyes were alight with gossip.

"Oh, just a bit more than a week. They've gone to Hawaii for the holiday." Roary started to pull something outside the breast pocket of his robe, but after a quick look around thought better of it. "Hope he's paying her way this time, and not the other way around, as I fear."

Varlerta nodded sympathetically, encouraging Roary to talk on. Listening to stories about people you do not even know is infinitely boring, Lupin thought, so he asked:

"You play in Varlerta's band in New York City then?"

Roary nodded. "I'm the singer." Varlerta sighed almost inaudibly; Roary patted her hand.

"Yes, we are your band and always will be, girl, and the minute you finish that Voldy-business and get your bum back to town, we will kick the other guitarist out again. There's no two ways about it. Not only are you our friend, but the guy is a catastrophe."

"I thought he could play really well," Varlerta said, her face in conflict between a happy and a sad expression.

"And I said, or rather wrote you," Roary replied amiably, "that it doesn't matter if the guy is Eddie Van Halen or Steve Vai or God. I can't stand him, neither can Pat and Aisha, and the minute we'll see the last of him will be one to celebrate. He can't play a single song without using his big, fat digital effect board, and imagine, he likes Manowar."

"Manowar," Varlerta repeated in dismay. "You're kidding, aren't you?" Lupin noticed that her American accent was thickening again as she conversed with Roary. She did not seem unhappy that her successor failed to please her band.

Trailing a cloud of glittering sparks behind him, Flitwick came over to their table. "Varlerta, are you going to finish decorating your trees, or do you want me to do it?"

"Of course, those trees!" Varlerta thought for a moment, and with a glance at Roary decided; "Oh yes, we will decorate them!" Enthusiasm made her look at least twenty years younger. "Want to help me, Roary? It's fun." The two of them got up and walked over to three trees on the right which still were mostly unadorned. When Lupin followed them with his eyes, he saw a large, black dog sitting near the door.

He beckoned; Sirius came over and jumped onto a chair so he could still oversee the room. Snape raised an eyebrow, but did not seem in the mood to argue. They watched Roary and Varlerta hurl flashy miniature comets at the trees. The multicoloured objects hovered between the branches or zoomed around the stems, at times forming random zodiac signs, at times racing each other around the tree tops. While conjuring up the little stars, Roary sang Christmas carols such as 'God bless you, merry gentlemen' and 'Deck the halls with bows of holly' in his deep, voluminous voice. After a verse or two, Varlerta joined in with an improvised alto counterpoint, while high above them, Flitwick's clear soprano soared up to the snowy ceiling. Lupin would have liked to tell Sirius that he had reasons not to believe Varlerta and Roary were lovers, but found no unobtrusive way to do so. It wasn't just that Snape sat next to them or that it might have looked abnormal to non-order teachers like Professor Trelawney if he discussed people's love life with a dog. Rather, he knew that Sirius was not the man to blab about his inner yearnings. You had to know him as well as Lupin did to infer that the question of Roary and Varlerta might be of interest to him.

Once their trees were bristling with colourful sparks, looking, as Lupin thought, very American in deed, the two resumed their seats and helped themselves to more coffee. Roary obviously had an easy-going personality; in less than a minute he had managed to draw Snape into a conversation about the dangers of hair potions. Lupin was amazed. He had never heard Snape discuss potions with anybody on an equal level; if he spoke about his domain, he usually lectured. Roary, however, seemed to know more than a little about the subject, explaining that he had once attended potions classes at Northern Magic University in Boston, Massachusetts.

"I used to be quite into that stuff ten years ago, and I still take an interest. Though it may sound silly, I even take an interest in hair." He cast Varlerta a mischievous glance which made her tug self-consciously at a strand of her remarkably long, black hair.

"I'd love to see you work on a cure for mood hair," Roary went on. "Maybe I can even help you. Friends of mine have been trying to find one for a year or so. They have cooked up a solution of ginko tree ash, kneazel urine and parsley root extract which succeeded in dulling the effect. The potion looked promising, but they haven't found a way to properly enhance it. Maybe we can combine our expertise."

Snape looked thoughtful; for the first time in weeks Lupin saw his normal hair colour. "Parsley root extract? I had not thought of anything so simple, but it sounds like the formula is worth a try. Enhance it ...," his brow furrowed, "maybe with crocodile eyeballs? Perhaps even crocodile tears might do the job. Or maybe stingray gills? Sepia brain? Something watery is missing, at any rate."

"When I told my friends about you, they agreed to give you their formula if you promise to split the profits both ways. I've got it with me. You see, Varlerta wrote me about your problem. She believes you'll be the one to figure it out," Roary said. Snape shrugged, but shook Roary's hand as a binding wizard contract.

"I'll be here for a few days," Roary said. "Right now I'm looking forward to a tour of the most internationally famous school of witchcraft and wizardry, of course. Tomorrow is Christmas day, so I don't suppose you'll be doing any work."

"Tomorrow or some other time would be fine," Snape replied. Lupin assumed the Potions Master wasn't one to pay much attention to such trivial matters as holidays. Moreover, he was probably desperate to free himself of a condition that gave others such a direct indication of how he was feeling.

"I'll see if I can find some time tomorrow, then," Roary decided. "I suppose you have a laboratory somewhere in this castle? - I'll come 'round, and we can see what we can do to get rid of your mood hair."

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In the evening, Lupin went to his room to prepare his Christmas presents. Silently he grinned to himself when he unwrapped three Wheeze Hand-Eating Stockings. He had purchased them via a straw man, namely Ron, and was planning to give a few people a bit of a laugh at Christmas morning. Sirius' stocking was the easiest. Having missed more than a decade of music, CDs were always an option for him. Choosing which ones to buy for him was a difficult task though, not because he already had everything, like other friends of Lupin, but because he virtually had nothing. Lupin had finally decided on Tori Amos' Little Earthquakes and Nirvana's Nevermind - avoiding clichés was not the crucial point here. Also, he had gotten some invisible Velcro tape and thread from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions per owl-order: Sirius kept complaining about the Invisibility Cloak, which frequently threatened to open up at critical moments. Velcro tape should do the job, Lupin thought, and it could be removed later without harming the cloak if Harry did not like it. He would offer to sew it in for Sirius, too.

For Dumbledore he had bought some socks. He did not know why, but somehow he had the impression that the old headmaster occasionally suffered from cold feet. What's more, a Hogwarts house elf had sold him two pairs of the most ludicrous and odd hand-knitted socks anyone could imagine - just the right thing for Dumbledore's sense of humour. Of course, it was no great gift for somebody as well-off as Dumbledore, but he decided it was the gesture that counted as he slipped the socks into the softly growling Hand-Eating Stocking.

Harry, Hermione and Ron did not need any joke stockings, as they were more than likely to already be acquainted with them. Unsure whether or not to give them presents, he had opted for the most unassuming way out, namely a large bag of Honeyduke's sweets for each of them. Hagrid would get a slug-eating gnome Lupin had recently caught in the vicinity of the Quidditch field. Of course, putting the gnome into a stocking would not do, so who would get the third Stocking?

Should he give a present to Professor Varlerta? He had not been sure and had finally decided against it, though he had a nice book about Grindylows in store for her just in case she should have a present for him. Severus, of course, was much more difficult. Lupin would have liked to give a Christmas present to the repudiating Potions Master, if only out of mischief; Snape would hate it to get something nice and thus be indebted to someone. He had considered giving Severus a cute and fluffy little puppy or kitten just to see what would happen, but had decided it would be unfair on the animal. Minerva McGonagall was too grand to receive a present from him; Lupin still felt like a student towards her and thought she would not appreciate any fraternizing. Heather and Metheus had made unequivocally clear that they did not hold with such nonsense as Christmas presents, and with the other teachers he was not really on present-giving terms. Lupin twisted the last remaining Hand-Eating Stocking in his hand. It would remain unused tonight.

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On Christmas morning, Lupin was awakened by a loud squall of swearing. He could not help grinning. Slipping his robes over his pyjama pants, he went to Sirius' room and knocked.

"Moony? - Get off there, you stupid thing - hey - I said - no, you don't - get off, I said!"

"Merry Christmas, Sirius." Lupin opened the door to see Sirius struggle with his Hand-Eating Stocking. The red device had already swallowed Sirius' right arm up to the elbow; Sirius was tugging at its heel with his left hand, trying to get it off. The stocking made sucking noises; it sounded content. "Need help?" Lupin asked, leaning casually against the door.

"What in Merlin's name is that blasted thing?" Torn between laughter and annoyance, Sirius gave the Stocking another pull. "You weren't the one who hung it on my fireplace, were you?"

"Me?" The amusement in his eyes probably showed, because Sirius wasn't buying his act of incredulity.

"Yeah, you, you moron. Merry Christmas to you, too. Get it off me, now!" The stocking was now lapping at Sirius' pyjama-clad biceps, already hungry for the shoulder.

Deciding it was time to free his friend, Lupin just touched its tip. "Demis!" Growling with disappointment, the stocking slackened; Sirius pulled out his arm and gave it a thorough inspection to insure it wasn't harmed.

"Can't believe you did that, and on Christmas, too," he mumbled. "Who else got one?" He held his stocking up and admired it. "Nice one, actually. Can't wait to try it on ..." His voice trailed off. He did not have very many acquaintances out of Hogwarts who might still be surprised by this year's joke next Christmas.

"Dumbledore got one, too," Remus said to ward off an embarrassed silence. Sirius pried the CDs, Velcro and thread out of the stocking with extreme care. All gifts were wrapped in colourful paper, which came in handy especially with the invisible items. Sirius was obviously pleased with his gifts and asked Lupin which CD to put on first on this snowy Christmas morning. Lupin found it hard to decide. He went back to his own room and found a few packages at the foot of his bed. Sirius, impervious to tact as always and considerably wealthier than him, had given him some new robes, the first decent ones he had owned in years. He must have owl-ordered from Madam Malkin's as well, Lupin knew, as it was the only way for Sirius to shop. Dumbledore had given Lupin an extra-protective face mask with matching gloves suitable to better ward off the cold of their experiments. His mother had baked him some pies and sown him a new cloak in dragon turquoise, a colour that had been fashionable in 1992. Lupin smiled at her gifts. She was as penniless as her son and had probably gotten the warm and weather-repellent material at a bargain price.

Clothes, he thought. He reckoned he should pay more attention to them, but he could not remember a time in his life when he had not been broke.

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Later that day, Sirius and Remus saw a blazing snowball fight just outside their windows and decided to join in. After all, it was the canonical Christmas Day activity. A few minutes later, Sirius was frolicking around with most of the students who had remained at Hogwarts, barking merrily. On his four paws he ran through the whirling white mass, threw over Harry and rolled in the snow with anyone who dared to challenge him. For a moment, Lupin wished he could be a potion-tamed wolf that day; the fun of the snowball fight might have well made up for the pain of the transformation. Yet at least, and unlike some, he'd get to eat at the table during Christmas dinner, he thought when Hermione's snowball dashed his hat from his head. Forgotten were all thoughts about the ridiculous colour of the new cloak he was wearing, or of the fact that had not participated in a snow ball fight for more than twenty years. He hurled snowballs here and there, taking care that he gave as much as he took from the younger snow fighters. Almost half of them were Weasleys: Besides the four youngest who were still schooled at Hogwarts, Bill and Charlie, the eldest two, had come to see Dumbledore on 'order business'. Their serious tasks did not seem to keep them from enjoying themselves in the snow with their siblings, however. Molly and Arthur, who had accompanied them to see their children at Christmas, were presently talking to Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, but they would eat Christmas dinner with everybody tonight.

"Hey, there's Hagrid," Ginny shouted and waved, then got a snowball in the face for sticking her head out of the mass. Gasping, she wiped the icy white mass out of her eyes and looked around to find out whether the culprit had been Fred or George. Meanwhile, Hagrid boomed down at them, then showered Charlie Weasley with a bucket's worth of snow, because that was about the amount that fitted into his two enormous hands. When confronted with Sirius, Fang the boarhound backed off, its tail between its legs. Lupin gathered some snow from the ground and aimed at Hagrid.

When the early December dusk set in, all of them were exhausted and rather wet, so they went back inside to change for dinner. Sirius, of course, would attend in his canine shape, so all he had to do was give his fur a good shake, Lupin thought. He had had the sense of not wearing a new robe outside, but now it was time to put one on. They felt different than the cheap ones, he thought as the garment glided down his shoulders. After drying his hair with a quick spell he hurried downstairs, drawn by delicious smells of food. Christmas at Hogwarts, he thought. It had been a long time.

For Christmas dinner, the house-elves had set up one enormous central table which seated more than thirty. Teachers and students would sit side by side, maybe, Lupin thought, because of the dilemma created by the presence of the Weasley parents: They would want to sit with their children, but banning them to the students' table would not have been very polite.

A few of the teachers were already seated. Dumbledore sat on his usual, richly-carved chair placed in the middle of the table. He was flanked by Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid on his right side, while the seat on his left remained empty. Next to it sat Varlerta, half-turning towards Metheus Quibster, who was bowed over her shoulder, talking animatedly. Chent Flitwick and Heather Sprout occupied seats facing the headmaster. Cosinus Vector was standing on the side, wrapped up in conversation with arrogant Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. Hufflepuff Susan Bones was leaning against the back of a chair, listening in and doing her best to catch Davies' attention. Lupin knew that her father, a Muggle film director, was busy over Christmas and had asked her to stay at school. Astra Sinistra and a misty-eyed Professor Trelawney appeared to have once more entered the realm of the stars; their hushed conversation was pregnant with omens, predictions and destiny. With them stood Madam Hooch, looking patient. Near the door, Filch was harrowing Ron and Harry about their snow-covered boots. When he saw Sirius crouching at Hermione's feet, the caretaker threatened to work himself into a state. Lupin had to smile when he saw Hermione give him Filch her best impression of doe eyes.

"Oh please, Mr. Filch, it's Christmas, the holiday of love and caring. You would not have the heart to throw a dog out into the cold at Christmas, would you?"

Filch's zeal died away. Hermione is turning into a pretty woman, Lupin noticed. When she had been his student, she had seemed all brains to him, but now he realised that was not all there was to her. Now Ginny Weasley and her Ravenclaw year-mate Cassandra Clearwater were joining the little group, discussing what to wear on the upcoming wedding of their elder siblings. To Cassandra the matter seemed to have far more importance than to Ginny. Two shy first-years Lupin did not know approached them, too, maybe hoping they would not look out of place in the relatively empty Great Hall if they stood around with elder students.

Looking up at the Hall's door, Lupin saw the rest of the Weasley family enter. For an instant, he thought of Percy, the only Weasley child that was not present. Of course, Molly had told him, he had to work extra-hard now to make up for the time he'd lose when going on his honeymoon in February. Still Lupin wondered if maybe his conspicuous absence was mostly due to the fact that only Percy did not take part in the plotting currently going on at Hogwarts. Does Percy know what the rest of his family is fighting for, Lupin wondered, or is this one more family ripped apart by the secrecy that seems to be characteristic for Voldemort's realm of terror? Listening to Molly declare she would put off scolding Fred and George for their joke stockings brought the smile back to his face. He looked up to see the Fat Friar, Nearly Headless Nick and the Grey Lady hover over the table laid with golden plates and goblets. The twelve magnificent Christmas trees shone brightly around them, some of them elegant, others a ridiculous blaze of colour. Christmas at Hogwarts, and the moon is far from full, Lupin thought happily as he took a seat opposite Varlerta and next to Hermione.

When everyone had sat down, two seats were still empty. Just when the many golden platters magically filled themselves with turkeys and chipolatas, the great door opened once more to admit Roary and Snape. Varlerta greeted them with a loud whistle. Heather Sprout hooted, and Astra Sinistra started clapping. Now that Snape had come closer, Lupin saw the reason for the commotion: Snape's hair was black again, once more without a trace of green. Even Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall joined in the cheering; Arthur Weasley and Sibyl Trelawney clapped politely, and Bill banged his spoon on the table as a way of applauding. Only the students refused to show enthusiasm for Snape's changed appearance, and Molly Weasley looked around in bewilderment. Walking behind Snape, Roary grinned broadly, visibly enjoying the reactions to their shared success. Snape kept his head down while walking up to the applauding table. If it had not sounded impossible, Lupin would have said Snape was blushing. He took his place on the headmaster's left with no more than a curt nod to Dumbledore. Roary sat down opposite of him on Lupin's left, occupying the last remaining chair. Now that everyone was seated, Dumbledore rose from his chair to officially open the Christmas dinner with one of his famous short speeches:

"Merry Christmas, everybody, and tuck in!"

Students, teachers and guests started filling their plates with the delicious food the house elves had cooked for them. While offering him some Yorkshire pudding, Varlerta said to Roary: "If you are still apprehensive about the British cuisine, let me assure you that the cooking of Hogwarts' house elves is to be counted among the best of the country. Just give it a try, will you? And if you still don't like it, there's an excellent Indian takeaway in a village just two miles from here."

Roary nodded bravely and let her put food on his plate. Lupin cut up some meat on an extra plate and loaded it with all kinds of Christmas delicacies. When he was sure that Filch was looking the other way, he set the golden plate on the floor in front of Sirius. "Enjoy your Christmas dinner, doggy," he said, giving his camouflaged friends a short pat on the furry head. He should be sitting at the table with us, Lupin thought.

"By the way, you two did a great job today," Varlerta chattered on, looking from Roary to Snape. "It's a comfort to have Verus back to normal. I knew that once you two geniuses attacked the task, mood hair wouldn't have the ghost of a chance."

Keeping his eyes on his sparsely filled plate, Snape moved his lips in a way that almost resembled a smile. Even when Dumbledore pulled a large, shiny cracker with Varlerta, revealing a witch's hat topped with a large, stuffed vulture, even when Varlerta immediately put the hat on her head, Snape did not appear to get angry. However, Lupin wondered if he did not simply misinterpret the fact that Snape's hair failed to turn green. Though he certainly did not regret the scene with the bogart, he still had slight misgivings about ridiculing touchy Severus in public.

While Lupin was carefully de-boning a goose leg for Sirius, remembering that hollow poultry bones were dangerous for dogs and that snouts were not as skilled as wizards holding knives and forks, Snape said:

"By the way, Valerie, where do you keep your guitar these days?"

"In my building," Varlerta mumbled with her mouth full, looking down on her plate in shame.

"Some protectoress you are," Snape chided, half good-naturedly, half serious. "Don't you remember the last feast we had in this hall?"

Varlerta swallowed and put her hand to her breast bone. "Well, of course, you are right, I am getting careless. I do have an emergency instrument with me wherever I go which is small but quite magical. However, I suppose I shouldn't be too lazy to bring the guitar even to Christmas dinner."

"That Icy Finger thing you wrote me about, the affliction of the British, isn't it?" Roary asked. "Actually, I did my homework, and I asked an American spellsearcher about it. You know what she asked me when I showed her all those old newspaper clippings you sent me?"

"Not until you tell me." Varlerta helped herself to some more chips and mushy peas.

"She asked why Icy Fingers was always used on groups. You know, there's not a single case reported when a lonely individual was attacked."

"Because you can get individuals with all sorts of curses," Lupin answered for her. "The dangerous thing about Icy Fingers is that you can attack many people at a time."

From below the table, a dog emitted a short woof. Lupin's and Sirius' eyes met for a second. Sirius thinks it's important, Lupin realised. "We will check this out right after the holiday," he mouthed to the dog who answered by nodding his shaggy head. When Lupin looked back to the table, Varlerta and Roary had already moved on to another topic. They had a habit of talking in half-sentences; each seemed to know what the other one was saying before anybody else at the table could make out what they were talking about, something Lupin found rather irritating.

Between talking with Harry about Quidditch, saving Hermione from impending boredom with a few cheering words, listening to Varlerta's and Roary's New York City gossip and refilling Sirius' plate about four times, the rest of Christmas dinner passed in no time at all. While nibbling at a piece of treacle tart, Varlerta said quietly:

"Why don't you all come over to my place for some after-dinner drinks later? - Butterbeer for the students, of course. Only insiders allowed -" with these words she cast a knowing glance to Sirius on the floor, who was still immersed in his pudding, "so for once he can get a word in, too, not just a woof."

"Yeah, come over," Roary addressed Lupin and Snape. "I brought a crate of imported beer and everything."

Lupin cast a questioning look at Sirius, who nodded his shaggy head.

"Sure, we'll come over," he replied.

Back in Sirius' room, Remus deftly sewed the invisible Velcro into the Invisibility Cloak as he had promised. Decades of mending and re-mending his robes had left him with a certain skill that was even up to the challenge of invisible thread. Sirius had insisted that Varlerta's after-dinner drinks almost sounded like a party and that coming early would be uncool. Visibly relieved that he was allowed to be human for the rest of the evening, Sirius had changed into fashionably cut night-blue robes that accented the colour of his eyes. Even the cracked mirror on the wall, usually a caustic critic, grudgingly told the two wizards they looked nice when they left the room about forty minutes later.

The low building behind the lake looked deserted; no lights whatsoever shone from it; no music or conversation could be heard. Of course, it's soundproof and for its main part windowless, Lupin thought when the front door was opened in response to their knock. Inside, there was light and noise abounding; the stereo was not on full blast, but not on supermarket background volume either. One Hot Minute of the Chili Peppers, Lupin noticed with delight. The music laboratory was packed with people standing or sitting around: As far as Lupin could see, all of the students and a few of the teachers Dumbledore trusted were present.

Varlerta greeted him merrily. "Nice to see you, Mr. Lupin. Brought Mr. Black with you, too?"

After Sirius had followed Lupin into the warmth of the building and closed the door behind them, he took the cloak of and returned Varlerta's greetings. Lupin looked around. One of the sofas was occupied by the Weasley family, Molly and Arthur sitting in the middle, the sons supporting themselves on the arm rests or standing nearby. Ginny stood on the side, looking a bit sulky, now and then casting a longing glance to Harry and Hermione sitting on an amplifier. Roary seemed to have a confidential conversation with Metheus Quibster in a corner. Bill Weasley greeted Lupin with a grin and offered him a beer out of Roary's seemingly bottomless crate. Lupin declined and opted for a Butterbeer. He did not like very much what alcohol did to him; the feeling it invoked in him came to close to the madness of a werewolf for his liking.

Deciding to give Sirius a chance to chat up Varlerta on his own, Lupin took a seat next to Snape. The Potions Master was sitting on the drum riser, clutching a bottle of Butterbeer and looking more than a little lost and uncomfortable. When Lupin sat down by his side, he gave him a sharp look.

"Trying to be sociable, Remus?"

Lupin suppressed a sigh. Trying to be nice, Severus, he replied in his thoughts, though with you it is a fair trial indeed. Aloud he said: "Glad to see you were so successful today. Varlerta says you should market your mood hair cure in the States and make a lot of money."

For the second time that evening, Snape almost smiled. Self-consciously he raised a hand as if to touch his hair, but checked himself in time. "It's quite a relief, to be honest," he answered. Then he looked back at Sirius and Varlerta, and his eyes darkened. Suddenly Lupin saw the outline of a problem he had not considered before. Happily, before he could think of something to say, he saw Ginny tuck at Varlerta's sleeve and say something to the teacher. Varlerta smiled, but shook her head.

"Oh, come on, just a few songs," Ginny insisted.

"There's only the two of us here, and it wouldn't be half the fun. Besides, nobody knows us here, and I don't want to be boring my guests."

"Bill knows you. He says he owns two of your CDs."

Varlerta blushed with pleasure. "Oh, does he? That's cool. Not many people on this side of the Atlantic have even heard of us."

"So you'll play?" Ginny gave Lupin an imploring look.

"It would be nice to hear something of your band," Lupin said obligingly. Even Snape gave Varlerta an encouraging nod, and Sirius also supported Ginny's request. While Varlerta went over to Roary, Ginny gave Sirius a shy look out of the corner of her eyes, but when the wizard looked back at her, she averted her eyes immediately. Teenagers, Lupin thought, giving in to a slight feeling of nostalgia.

After Varlerta had tuned her guitar and made a quiet little announcement, she started to play. Roary fell in with his resonant, slightly husky voice that sounded almost unworldly. The song they played was almost a ballad, but the rhythm was somehow odd. Lupin could not manage to tap his foot with it and after a verse gave up trying; he just let himself carry away by the unfamiliar sound of this strange music. It stirred something in him, though he could not put a name to what that might be.

After the first song, Lupin noticed Ginny sneak up to the drum set. Realising he was leaning his head against the bass drum, he thought it wise to move to a safer corner. He tapped Snape on the shoulder to warn him. The Potions Master looked at him as if he had just awoken from a dream; then incomprehension gave way to a look of slight embarrassment. Both wizards got up. Lupin saw that Ginny was selecting a pair of plastic brushes to play with; he realised that Varlerta and Roary had taken care to play rather softly instead of blasting people's ears away.

Varlerta smiled encouragingly at Ginny when she heard the girl play drums to their second song. She indicated each break to the novice drummer with a raise of eyebrows, and Ginny seemed to find it easy to adapt her playing in speed and volume. Lupin was delighted to hear that Ginny was developing her skill; give her a few more years, and she will not feel out of place in the world anymore, he thought.

After a third song, Varlerta put her instrument away; she and Roary thanked their audience for some subdued clapping. When Ginny voiced her disappointment that the performance was over, Varlerta said: "We are only half a band here, and most of our songs just don't work without Pat and Aisha. If we ever find a way to smuggle our Muggles into this castle, we'll give you a real concert. By then I hope you'll have your own band and will give me a concert in return." She switched off her amplifier.

"Nice job, Ginny," Bill hollered from the other side of the room. "Cool to finally have a musician in the family." Ginny turned the colour of a stop sign. Maybe it was not common for her to be noticed by her oldest brother.

While Sirius went over to Varlerta to compliment her on her performance, Snape quietly excused himself and left. Shortly after, Molly and Arthur Weasley retired, urging Ginny to go to bed soon, too. Ginny looked like she would have liked to disappear into the bass drum. Some of the teachers said goodnight, too. Lupin felt tired himself. He slumped down on the vacated sofa and leant back against the headrest. The music from the stereo gently lulled him into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he awoke, the dimly lit room was empty of people. Empty bottles of Butterbeer and Becks formed small phalanxes here and there. Lupin was not sure for how long he had slept, or whether it was day or night. He rubbed his eyes, stretched and got up from the sofa. Falling asleep on a party - how embarrassing, he thought.

He did not want to wake anybody. Years of marauding through the castle had taught him to move silently. Noiselessly he turned the handle of the front door. Through the inch-wide gap he could hear voices.

"Oh, Roary, please don't make this another of these 'let's get Varlerta married off to some dependable nerd'-discussions."

Lupin froze. He heard Roary's low, melodious chuckle. "I'm not trying to marry you off, girl, I'm just pointing your attention to the fact that you have the eyes of two guys follow you wherever you go."

Varlerta sighed, but when she spoke, she sounded more amused than angry. "Come off it, Roary. You are seeing romance wherever you poke your attractive nose. I don't need this. I am fine. Just because you have a happy long term relationship, it does not mean you are the matchmaking champion of the world."

Apparently they had not heard him. Of course, he should make himself heard, yet... Developed in a secluded and lonely childhood as a means of participating in the lives of others, eavesdropping might be the one bad habit he had never been able to kick. Lupin stayed where he was, even his breathing exceptionally quiet. Beyond the door, Roary answered:

"I know it's none of my business, Var, but I can't shed the impression that you are lonely. It's not only the changed circumstances that makes me worry about you, you know. True, you haven't exactly lived the life of a nun these past years, but whatever you found amiss with those guys, you kept kicking them out after a few weeks. I wonder why that is. You can tell me to stop nosing around, but you can't stop me thinking about you."

"So you think Verus and Sirius are interested in me." There was a touch of impatience in Varlerta's voice. "So what, I think. Just look at them, Roary. One of them was packed away to Azkaban for most of his adult life, and the other is living the life of a monk, if I am not mistaken."

"You mean romance-wise, they don't play in your league," Roary said quietly. "No pun intended."

"No..." Varlerta hesistated. "I mean they are not men to be played with, neither of them is."

Silence ensued. Lupin wondered if the moment had come for him to noisily wriggle the door handle.

"Var," Roary did not sound particularly happy. "I'm sorry if I once more sound patronizing, but that's exactly what I'm talking about. You are not supposed to play with love all your life. It's ok when you are sixteen, it's fun when you are twenty-five, but at some point in your life things should get serious. I'm saying act your age. And no, I'm not 'giving you baby-shit,' as you so fittingly termed it. I'm not telling you to settle down in a neat little suburb house. All I'm asking is," his voice was rising a little, "how can it be that there are two men in love with you, and you with them, two to choose from, Var, and still you won't settle on either of them?"

"Roary, you are a wonderful friend. You are a powerful wizard. But as far as I know, you are not a bloody seer. What do you know about my feelings, or their feelings, or anything at all? Come to think of it," there was a touch of sarcasm in her voice, "when you were down at the dungeon with Verus, did he happen to mention me?"

"Er," Roary answered.

"See what I mean?" The triumph in Varlerta's voice was not a happy triumph. "Some adoration, I'm impressed."

"Var," Roary said.

"Ok, let's for the sake of the argument assume you are right. Still there are a few problems," Varlerta went on. "Ok, I like them. I like both of them. That's problem number one, and if you can't see it, then it's not me that's failing to take love seriously. Problem number two, as long as Voldy-Boy, as you so fittingly term it, is on the rise, I don't feel comfortable about establishing a serious relationship with anybody. It would not be fair, you see, because if the time comes to fight, I'm not prepared to run this time, not even for love. Number three - well, I forgot what number three was, but at any rate, it would not work out."

"I admit that your old teenage crush is a bit of a weirdo," Roary answered after a while. "I rather like him, though this may be beside the point. But what about the other guy?"

"It's true, I've been thinking about him quite a bit, lately," Varlerta said with warmth in her voice. When hearing this, Lupin almost congratulated himself on eavesdropping. "He is ... attractive, nice, a bit mysterious and everything. But see - you think I'm so great about making first moves and about having things my way with men. But maybe I'm not. Or maybe I'm just too decent for seducing a guy so obviously bent on settling down as long as I'm not sure about my true feelings, or know what will happen next in my life."

It was Roary's turn to sigh now. "Fair enough, I suppose."

Lupin had heard enough. He did not want to stand behind the door until he was discovered, so he expertly simulated the sound of a latch opening. When he stepped outside into the clear, starry night, he saw Roary and Varlerta sit on a large foundling stone in front of the building, sharing a cigarette (if it was a cigarette).

"Oh, hi there," he said. "Must have fallen asleep." He rubbed his eyes while his conscience called him a vile hypocrite. "Quite embarrassing, actually."

"Not at all," Varlerta replied kindly. "Goodnight to you, Mr. Lupin."

"Goodnight," he replied and made his way back to the castle through the glistening snow.