Subplot

24 - Sirius

Cosinus Vector, Chent Flitwick, Lupin and Sirius sat with bended heads over a roll of parchment, or, to be precise, data sheet number three, as Varlerta had termed it weeks ago. Sirius smiled to himself when he thought of the teacher who was so well acquainted with Muggle technology: Her idea was to plug a cable into the crystal balls used for the Spellsearchers' experiments and to electronically extract the information stored in them. She had been dismayed to hear that there was no such thing as a Digital-Magical Interface in the crystal balls: All the information they had recorded during the Spellsearchers' experiments had been meticulously transcribed by hand, a task that had taken the Spellsearchers several months of painstaking work. Not for the first time, Sirius wondered whether a general open-mindedness towards Muggle inventions wouldn't perhaps do the wizarding world a lot of good. When his hand had cramped around a quill, when his eye lids felt as if weighed down by lead, he had whispered "Digital-Magical Interface" to himself more and more often during these last weeks and months.

Once the task of transcription had been accomplished, the Spellsearchers had recently turned to the task of analysis. Like data sheet number one, the piece of parchment the four wizards studied was written in Sirius' scrawl. Again and again, Flitwick complained about its illegibility. Data sheet number two did not exist, as crystal ball number two had been smashed on that horrible night when Sirius and Lupin had almost managed to freeze Dumbledore to death with their experiments. Of course, whenever someone would put forth a hypothesis regarding the forces at work in the Glaciera curse, someone else, usually Lupin, would say cheerfully: "Proofs for this to be found on data sheet number two."

Sirius sighed; they had to make use of the information they had, not the information that had been lost. Data sheet four and five however were tolerably neat, as they were Lupin's work. Just every now and then, Sirius' lycanthropic friend had added a little comment on the margin - his personal running gag, namely that the clue to the curse's group effect was 'love and compassion.' Sirius could understand Lupin's need to joke. Writing the data sheet had not been a particularly rewarding work in itself so far.

The crystal balls had recorded information about the flow of magic during the experiment; they stored it in the shape of filigree threads of coloured light. Lupin and Sirius had translated these threads into formulas, figures and Arithmantic symbols according to a system which Vector had shown them. After they had finished the transcription, they had tried to make sense of them. Many hours and chocolate éclairs were spent on an attempt to find recurrent patterns which might be an indication of what powers were at work in the Glaciera curse. They had found strong patterns of cold, paralysing patterns, patterns that froze the strength of witches and wizards. This concurred with all they knew about the curse already. What they did not know was how Icy Fingers gained entrance into the central core of magical power inherent to each witch or wizard. They had yet to find out how the curse managed to completely permeate people's strength instead of being a moderate nuisance, as ice curses usually were. Moreover, they still needed to understand the curse's effect on groups before they could determine the counter curse.

With the help of Vector and Flitwick, occasionally aided by Varlerta and Snape, they tried to make sense of the flood of semi-comprehensible formulas on the data sheet. They had extracted a number of recurrent patterns they now knew to be accidental, as they did not have any coherent meaning in terms of magic flow. Then there were patterns which appeared to be central to the curse, but which had not been deciphered yet. By comparing different data sheets, they had eliminated several formulas, slowly narrowing down their search to a few. Vector was a big help, boring and thorough as he was; he was the only one who truly understood what they were dealing with. At that moment, he was bent over the roll of parchment, occasionally stopping to jot down a few notes. When he raised his head abruptly, Sirius at once knew something was up: for the phlegmatic Arithmancy teacher, this was almost an outburst of temper.

"I believe that Lupin has hit the nail on the head with his joke," Vector muttered, running his dry quill over many lines of notes which were only half-comprehensible even to the one who had written them. After fixing all three wizards with a meaningful stare, Vector dipped his quill into the ink bottle on the table and wrote a formula on his spare piece of parchment. Sirius, who had limited his encounters with Arithmancy to the bare necessities, frowned. He recognised some of the elements of the formula, but could not properly put them together.

"This is love," Vector said matter-of-factly and tapped his quill at the end of the formula, leaving a number of tiny black dots on the pavement. "Love in the widest sense of the word, I should say."

"Don't be ridiculous, Cosinus," piped miniscule Flitwick, voicing Sirius' thoughts. "There's no such thing as an Arithmantic formula for love."

"Of course there is," Vector replied dryly. "All types of magical energy in this universe can be expressed in an Arithmantic formula. Don't tell me love is not magical, or not energy." He said this without the slightest hint of passion, making Sirius wonder whether the intensely boring Arithmancy teacher had ever felt love himself. For a disconcerting moment, the face of another teacher flashed before his inner eye.

"Don't tell me love is objectively measurable or expressible in figures," Lupin said softly, running an ink-stained finger over the lines that Sirius had written.

"It's not only a measurable, but a usable source of energy, something an able wizard can channel and direct," Vector insisted stubbornly. "Don't become all passionate about it, dear colleagues. What we see in the data recorded by the crystal balls is that the Icy Fingers curse draws on two sources, namely individuals' magical strength and on the feelings that hold a group of people together."

"Which is love?" Sirius asked sceptically. "Excuse me, Cosinus, but the sixties are well past, and Hogwarts has never been a place for free love abounding. We're in the middle of a scientific discussion here, and we are trying to find a counter curse to help us against one of the most deadliest weapon the enemy possesses. You are supposed to be the expert on rational and abstract thinking. Could you please come off whatever love boat you are riding?" He noticed that without intending to, he had assumed a sharp tone of voice; his last words were accentuated by a slap of his palm onto the surface of the battered Spellsearchers' table. Vector merely raised an eyebrow.

"This is not a matter of opinion or taste, Sirius. It's all here in the figures, and figures, as you well know, constitute an absolute truth. We can give the phenomenon another name, a less offensive one, if it makes you feel any better - caring, friendship, esteem. However, I should not have to remind you, a trained Spellsearcher, that there are numerous ways to magically influence the feelings that pass between people. There are love potions, for example, or spells that raise a person's charisma or attractiveness. Wizards use illusions to gain other wizards' respect, and witches use glamour charms to enhance their beauty and to gain the hearts of wizards. All these spells are calculable by means of Arithmancy."

"But these are only petty tricks to deceive. You can't magically create real feelings like love or respect," Sirius argued, biting back a comment regarding Vector's old-fashioned view of gender roles.

"What is real, what is fake in the realm of emotions?" Vector asked without a hint of enigma or pathos. "Would your love for a witch be less real because she secretly dabbles in beauty charms?"

Again, Sirius briefly thought of Professor Varlerta, who freely admitted that the silky quality of her hair was courtesy of Roary Lyons and his astonishing hair potions. But, of course, such thoughts were not to the point, so he shooed them away. The idea that there might be no difference between true love and magically manipulated emotions was outrageous.

"Of course, what Icy Fingers seems to be doing is much more effective, and therefore much more vile," Vector stated evenly. "The curse is not causing or manipulating feelings, it is using them. Within every group, there are imperceptible channels where feelings such as regard or friendship flow. If I do not misread the data generated by your crystal measurement balls, Icy Fingers uses these channels. It runs along them, finds a wizard's weak spot, not in his lack of strength, but in his concern for others around him."

"You mean it is not only the individuals who are vulnerable to the curse, but the space between them," Lupin murmured, absentmindedly running a hand through his greying hair, something he did only when he was lost in thought.

"It is not its members that make a group larger than the sum of its parts, but the relationships between them,", Flitwick rephrased Lupin's comment with an enthusiastic nod.

"But how could Voldemort -" Sirius saw Flitwick and Vector flinch at his use of the name, "how could he have gotten such an idea? I am pretty sure that love, or caring for others, is not one of the things he generally gives much heed to."

"By developing the Glaciera curse, Voldemort once more did what he is best at - he uses people against each other." The well-known voice made Sirius turn around abruptly. Trust the old wizard to appear suddenly on the scene whenever something crucial was happening at Hogwarts, Sirius thought admiringly. Dumbledore's beard moved with a greeting smile, but his eyes remained grave.

"He exploits one of the best things we all have in our hearts, namely the concern for those around us, the worry for those dear to us," Dumbledore continued. "Just like he forced many of his followers into servitude by threatening to harm their friends and families, he has found a curse that turns a group's unity from a weakness into a strength. No matter how strong we are, all of us have a weak spot for a few people, or that is how he sees it. They are on our minds, and they are the way to our hearts. Thus they are an open door for him to gain access to our strength, if your observations are correct."

Something like a hunch hit Sirius unprepared. That is the reason why Icy Fingers affects Dumbledore so much, he thought. It has nothing to do with weakness, and even little with his immense magical strength. The reason he is so vulnerable to this curse is that he has so many people on his mind, that he cares for so many.

Meanwhile, Vector had written down his central formula on a clean piece of parchment to show it to Dumbledore. "This is what I believe the central force at work in Icy Fingers," he told the headmaster.

Dumbledore nodded approvingly, something Vector undoubtedly expected from him. "Well done indeed, Cosinus," he said. "Our Spellsearchers will have to run a number of tests on this, but you may very well have found what so many of us have been looking for so long."

Sirius knew he should be excited, or at least display excitement, but somehow he could not bring himself to do so. To him, this discovery did not feel like a success; it only made him feel the numerous past defeats more bitterly. He fought down the rising despair with the best weapon he knew; he looked ahead.

"And after we have done that, all we have to do is find a counter curse," he said in a mock-cheerful tone, evoking moans from Lupin and Flitwick.

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

He knew he should celebrate that night, but after Lupin had retired early, who could he celebrate with? Well, he knew quite well with whom he could celebrate if he managed to get into a festive mood. "Rock 'n Roll Highschool," he said from underneath the Invisibility Cloak when he had arrived at her door. Knocking on it was often useless when she was playing one of her instruments at high volume, and she could not hear such things as shouting from inside her soundproof building.

As soon as the door opened to him, he was enveloped by the noise of her guitar, something that was not unusual at all. Professor Varlerta was standing in front of her amplifier, headphones on her ears, blasting away at full volume. When she saw him, she acknowledged his presence with a smile, played for another few minutes and then switched off a small Muggle recording device that stood on a small table. She turned off her amplifier, took off the headphones and placed the guitar on its stand.

"Ready for a walk around the lake?" she asked.

He nodded. Walking around the lake had become a little of a convention between them, even though he could not say exactly why they did it. He usually wore his Invisibility Cloak, but of course, a few times he had almost been discovered in the past: Whenever they ran into someone who did not know of his presence at Hogwarts, Varlerta had to explain away the fact that she had been discussing things with herself at length, and what's more, with two different voices. Luckily, making excuses work was something with which she was good.

Today the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was obviously in the best of spirits. She was almost skipping along the path that wound around the lake, passing the dark, looming forest on its way, moving with music that no one but her could here, it seemed. Sirius told her all about the Spellsearchers' astonishing discovery. She listened to his elaborate description of the scene that had passed in the laboratory without putting in any comments of her own. When he had finished, she replied: "You're not happy."

"Yes, you are right, I should be happy about it," he admitted. He felt a little guilty about not being overjoyed at Vector's discovery.

"There's no 'should' in feelings, Sirius," she chided, waving her hand impatiently. "If you're not happy, you're not happy, and that's that. I do wonder why it is so, but there's no obligation to explain anything."

He sighed. Near the gloomy forest, his sigh sounded especially mournful. "Maybe I'm just a moping pessimist, and that's all. If we have really found the right formula, it means the fulfilment of a fifteen-year-old hope to me. Knowing what makes a curse tick is the best way to find a counter curse, you know. If you understand the direction the magic takes, you can sometimes even counter it without a fixed procedure or word." He saw her open her mouth, but he knew what she was going to say, so he conceded: "Yes, of course, this supports your hypothesis that Linquist's supplement theory from The Jigsaw Fit is bullshit. Actually, I think you may be right. Still, we are going to select a proper word tomorrow."

She nodded. "That makes sense, especially when it comes to teaching the counter curse to others."

He laughed briefly; it sounded a little joyless even to him. "We aren't that far yet," he reminded her.

"We should do our best," she replied earnestly. "I'll come in tomorrow and see if I can be of any help. You know what Dumbledore said the other day? Actually I agree with him."

"You mean about the feast? Or do you mean the thing about refining the curse?" They had discussed at length why there had not been another Icy Fingers attack on Hogwarts for so long now. Most people in the castle seemed to believe that as Hogwarts had proven able to defend itself on Halloween, the Death Eaters had been scared off. There were more pessimistic ways of reasoning, however: Either the Death Eaters were working on a stronger, more terrible version of Icy Fingers to attack the castle, or they were waiting for the next feast for an optimal group attack. This feast would be in three days before all students left the school.

"I don't want to make any kind of prediction," Varlerta said a little hurriedly. Still, somehow Sirius suspected that she saw things like he did: Both reasons might very well be true at the same time.

"What will you do when you're done with your task?" she suddenly asked. If her purpose was to cheer him up with this question, she hadn't succeeded, he thought morosely. Actually, it was the worst question anyone could ask him.

"I have no idea," he answered, fighting to keep his voice level. "There's nothing to pull me into any particular direction. I have no job, no home, no family - and probably I never will."

"Oh, that's what's bothering you," she said lightly, though her eyes were serious.

"Well..." He thought of a suitable way of putting things without sounding like he was blaming her. "When I heard about... about the way Peter Pettigrew escaped again...not that it's your fault in any way, of course...."

"No, it's not, because I couldn't know he could transform into a rat," she said matter-of-factly, "though I sure wish I had acted differently. You're thinking about him now, and you're wondering if you are ever going to be cleared, or if you are doomed to spend your whole life on the run."

Once more, her directness felt like a shock. He had forbidden himself to even consider this possibility, but of course, it was always there, looming in the back of his mind. He tried to find a fitting reply, one that would not sound like Moaning Myrtle, but he failed.

They had surrounded the lake; Professor Varlerta's soundproof building came back into view. Suddenly she stopped short in her tracks and turned to where she believed him to be. "This may happen, you are aware of that. However, even if you spend your life as an outlaw, I do not believe you will have to be a lonely and homeless outcast. Life on the run is not what anybody would choose, but it's better than Azkaban, I am sure."

Somehow, she sounded like she knew what she was talking about, not with regards to Azkaban, but with regards to life on the run. He saw that she was doing her best to smile at him, so he took off the hood of the Cloak so she could smile into the right direction. The light of the crescent moon shone on her face and on her hair; it emphasized her dark lashes and eyebrows. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sirius wondered whether Lupin had remembered drinking his potion tonight. "It certainly sounds like a rather isolated way of life to me," he said, his voice more bitter than he had intended.

"I do not believe you will have to be lonely all your life, Mr. Black," she said, somehow looking smug. "Neither, as a matter of fact, do I reckon that just because you are wanted dead or alive, you will have to do without a home, without friends, or without love."

"Yes, but... which woman would want a man that has to live on the run?" he asked, realising that he sounded sickeningly pleading.

"That may depend on your choice of woman." Her voice was a bit hoarse, but she looked like a cat that had eaten the canary, and the goldfish to boot, he thought, feeling excitement paired with unease take hold of him. He noticed that she stood closer to him than just a minute before, though he had not noticed her move towards him; there seemed to be a whiff of jasmine in the air.

She must be in the process of seducing me, he thought, his heart beating against his ribs. Does that mean she would be willing to share the unsteady life that lies ahead of me? Unsure of how to contribute to this strange, unfamiliar thing going on between them, he raised a hand and touched her lightly at the shoulder. He let it slide down her sleeved arm, but before he came to the point of touching her hand, he backed off. She made a slight movement, whether to avoid his touch or whether to catch his hand, he did not know. Sirius put his hand back into his pocket, clutching the fabric to make up for the sensation of emptiness in his palm. Varlerta looked him straight into the eyes.

"Can I offer you like a glass of wine or something over at my place?" She turned her head towards the flat, unlit building, than back at him to smile. Something in her eyes let him hope she was in fact offering more than a drink: Now the cat had devoured a large and valuable koi carp, he thought, at the same time amazed by the absurdity of his ideas.

Should he tell her...? No, definitely not. There was nothing more embarrassing than a male virgin aged thirty-six, he thought (with the possible exception of a male virgin aged thirty-seven). He would have to rely on his ability to fake the expert. What would an expert do in such a situation? Kiss the woman, he decided, and act the gentleman when punished by a slap across the face. All things considered, this seemed to be the smaller risk, he thought, so he put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her towards him and kissed her.

Of course, this wasn't his first kiss; there had been a period in his fifth year when he had kissed girls, in the plural. This had caused a considerable amount of trouble and resentment among the girls, so he had soon decided to lay off his activities until the point where he could kiss a girl he really liked. Now, more than twenty years later, that point had come. Back then, the novelty of lips touching lips had been exciting, but certainly not as electric. A strange energy flooded him, not only his lips and his face, but also his hands, his chest; it even reached down to his...feet: The ground seemed warmer and decidedly more shaky than normal.

Varlerta welcomed his kiss very warmly indeed; her hands wandered under his Cloak, where they ran up and down his back, and she drew even closer to him. Jasmine, no doubt about it, he noticed in the back of his mind. He buried his hands in the hair at the back of her head for a while, then grew a bit bolder. Unlike the fifth- and fourth-year girls he had kissed, she did not protest. Exploring seemed to be the right thing, so he continued his activities for a long, long while. He felt her hands tug at his robe around his waist at some point, then give up and return to stroking his back. "Damn floor-length robes," she murmured between two kisses. Suddenly she drew away, visibly out of breath.

"Before we cause a scandal here in the open grounds, maybe we should go inside," she said hoarsely. Her hair was dishevelled, but she did not seem the least displeased with anything.

This is really happening, he had to remind himself. She gave him a questioning look, which made him realise that she expected him to agree or disagree with her suggestion.

"Yes, of course," he hurried to reply. She smiled at him rather gently.

"Trust me, you'll like it," she said seriously. Maybe he had not succeeded in faking the expert after all, he thought as they walked towards her building, hands entwined. But then again, maybe that wasn't as important as he had thought it might be.

**********************************************

"As Professor Varlerta suggested, the word for the counter curse is not of central importance; however, I am personally convinced that a well-chosen word enhances a spell by giving the mind a focus. Also, it should have a sound structure that enables the witch or wizard a dynamic and forceful utterance. My personal favourite for this counter curse is Taovétta, which suggests thawing and new hope."

Sirius found it hard to concentrate on Flitwick's words. The temptation to replay scenes from last night in his head was overwhelming; much rather he would have repeated the experience right now instead of trying to find a counter curse in a hurry. He cast a glance at Varlerta sitting next to Flitwick and wondered whether she felt the same. She must have felt his gaze, because she looked up at him, a mischievous smile in her eyes. Then she pointed at Flitwick with a movement of her eyes. Sirius glanced over to the Charms teacher who looked at him expectantly.

"Taovétta. Yes, of course, why not? It has a very dynamic feel to it." For a second he thought he might have said something stupid, but then everybody accepted his reply with a nod. Taovétta it would be.

"We will conduct the experiments as planned yesterday," Lupin started to explain. Sirius felt a surge of gratitude towards his old friend. Trust him to take a situation into his hands to make up for the fact that Sirius' mind was elsewhere. Lupin continued: "Chent and Cosinus will be inside Sirius' new Atmoglisa Forta. We will limit the experiment to two wizards to keep the group effect limited for now. I will cast the curse, and Sirius will try our preliminary counter curse. Varlerta will have her guitar ready just in case. Let's try to keep Dumbledore uninformed of what we are doing - you know how stubborn he is. Oh, and of course you three will have to leave, for safety reasons."

His last words were directed at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who sat on the side to watch. Now that the weekend had started, classes were over; they would get the result of their OWLs the day after tomorrow and leave on the train the day after that. Sirius warmly thought of a conversation he had had with Dumbledore some days ago. Maybe he wasn't quite as kinless as he had believed he was.

As true Gryffindors, the three disagreed with Lupin, of course.

"We aren't even underage anymore - we as good as hold our OWLs in our hands. All we want to do is witness the first countering of the curse. We'll stay out of harm's way, we promise," Hermione pleaded.

"You said your new Atmoglisa Forta was so safe that watching the process should not be dangerous anymore," Harry said in an almost admiring way. With that, he had hit a weak spot, of course: The Atmoglisa Forta was the one thing of which Sirius truly felt proud. He had managed to develop an enhanced version of the common Atmoglisa Magica, double-layered and much safer than the magic protection they had used at that last, near-fatal experiment. Also, it enabled you to counter a curse from the outside, which would keep the tension between battling magical forces lower. The danger of the Atmoglisa Forta cracking open and letting a curse run out of bounds was much smaller than with a generic Atmoglisa.

"Only think of the things we might learn!" Trust Hermione to come up with that kind of a remark. Ron nodded vigorously.

"I'm not happy with you three staying here," he objected lamely. Then he looked around. Nobody seemed particularly worried; Varlerta answered his questioning look with a decidedly flirty wink.

"I shouldn't think there would be a problem if they stayed, Sirius," she said.

Maybe they were right. Compared to the last experiment, this one was much less dangerous.

Before they started the experiment, all witches and wizards in the room practiced the counter curse. Flitwick instructed them, corrected their pronunciation and wand movements until they felt right to him. "Taovétta!" they finally shouted in unison. Sirius felt as if he was back in charms class again. Flitwick, then a young and dynamic teaching novice, had always been overly critical with him.

Lupin and Sirius built up the Atmoglisa Forta. Sirius double-checked everything to make sure the people within as well as the people outside the device would be safe. Flitwick and Vector got inside; Varlerta set up her guitar, while Harry, Hermione and Ron obediently sat down on the side where they wouldn't be in the way. Sirius gave Lupin his okay. He watched his friend raise his wand at the Atmoglisa.

"Glaciera!" Sirius could simply not get used to the way Lupin's voice changed when uttering the curse of the Death Eaters. Usually friendly and not overly loud, it seemed to grow the sonic equivalent of teeth; the sound always reminded Sirius of Lupin, the wolf. The Atmoglisa steamed up and froze over from the inside, but Sirius had the impression that the curse was weakened indeed by their safety measures as well as the reduced number of wizards within the dome of magical light. Vector and Flitwick seemed alright; he could see them wave from within, a sign that they were coping. Sirius felt his heart beat frantically. Trying to fight down his excitement, he concentrated on the magical structures of the Icy Fingers curse, on its effect, the way it worked on people, used their strengths and their weaknesses to freeze their core. He set his mind against that force, willed it to stop, to lose its power, to be countered by his willpower.

"Taovétta!" His voice thundered across the room. He saw an orange glow shoot from his wand and enter the Atmoglisa. From within, he could see a brief firework of blue and orange sparks; a spot in the icy layer on the dome became transparent again. The Atmoglisa Forta flickered and shook, but remained intact and safe. From within, he could see Flitwick give him a thumbs up before the spot froze over again.

"Glacifin!" Lupin terminated the curse, something that worked reliably again due to the magic limiting powers of the Atmoglisa Forta. Flitwick and Vector emerged from the dome, rubbing their arms and blowing on their fingers. Sirius felt sorry for them. Lab rat for experiments with Icy Fingers - this was not a job, but a punishment, he thought, a punishment suitable only for - well, for rats.

When Flitwick beamed at him, he banned all dark thoughts.

"That was quite a good shot, Sirius," Flitwick piped enthusiastically. "It was certainly a step in the right direction! Did you see those sparks? Your counter curse really fought the Glaciera curse in there. With a bit of practice and a few adjustments, you might very well succeed!"

Sirius shook his head modestly, though he had to admit he was pleased himself. "This was only a toy version of the curse. Once we are fighting against the real curse, we'll see what our counter curse is worth."

Flitwick patted him on the hand, probably because he was by no means tall enough to pat Sirius on the shoulder. "One step at a time, Sirius. You've done well. It looked quite promising - you might have really found what you were looking for. One step into the right direction is always better than a hundred steps into the wrong direction, as my grandmother used to say."

Sirius nodded, not ungrateful for the encouragement. "Thank you, Chent. Ready for another go?"

Vector nodded, but Flitwick looked doubtful. "Have you got some hot tea for me?" he asked. As a matter of fact, they did, because Lupin had thought of ordering some from the house elves, once more the caring friend who remembered such details. Flitwick slurped his tea, then agreed for a second try, which went much like the first. For the third try, Flitwick suggested that Sirius and Harry should try to counter the curse together. The two of them managed to produce significantly more colourful sparks than Sirius alone, but no relevant success apart from that.

After the third attempt to counter Icy Fingers, Vector and Flitwick declared that they needed a break, a break of several days if possible, before they would enter any Atmoglisa again. Sirius did not really mind; he was exhausted himself. Countering the spell was harder work than he would have thought it was.

Flitwick and Vector said they were off to bed and Pepperup Potion; Harry, Ron and Hermione declared that they were off to visit Buckbeak and Hagrid, probably accompanied by Ginny to comply with the current Hogwarts safety regulations. Buckbeak was presently undergoing an untimely moult. Consequently Hagrid's hut and pumpkin patch were drowning in cast-off feathers, and Buckbeak looked like something the kneazel had brought in; he seemed a little depressed. Hagrid in turn was more than a little distressed at the Hippogriff's moult; Harry, Ron and Hermione were helping him groom the bird until Hagrid had found out what might be wrong with his pet.

Of course, it would have been polite to accompany the students and see his former winged steed himself, Sirius thought, but what he really wanted was to be alone with Professor ... with Varlerta. The black-haired witch was taking her time packing her guitar and amplifier; she might even be waiting for him to approach her. He walked up to her. "So are you busy now?" he asked softly.

Varlerta grinned. "Care for a cup of tea and a research-related discussion, Sirius?"

"Any time - Varlerta."

They walked down to her building in the midday sun. He had gentlemanly offered to carry her amplifier, so now he had to be careful to keep the heavy little box under the folds of the Cloak. As often, he inwardly cursed the need to conceal himself. It would have been nice to lay down at the lake with her - no, not at the lake, too many students - to find a nice, sunny place in the forest where she wandered so often. It wasn't a day to stay indoors.

"I wish I could Portkey to a lonely island with you for a while, or at least Disapparate to some deserted spot in the Highlands," he said when they had set down her equipment in the music laboratory. "Of course, I have to stay at Hogwarts for safety reasons, and I don't know how to Apparate...."

"Neither do I." She was leaning against the wall and did not seem to be bent on any kind of scientific discussion, as he had suspected. She rather looked like she might very well like to get closer to him again, but for once, they appeared to have plenty of time. Idly she asked him: "How comes you never took the test?"

"Well, you know, being an Animagus changes the structure of your body in some subtle ways. Traces of the Animagus spell remain in your body tissues even when you are human again. That in itself is not a problem, but because I was an illegal Animagus...."

She nodded. "They would have discovered you."

"Probably. The committee for Apparation licences check you over, see if you are healthy and powerful enough to even try Apparation. I didn't want to take the risk. What about you?"

Varlerta chuckled quietly. "It was quite similar with me, actually. I really wanted to get my license, but I was living under an assumed name at that time. I took Aurors' training and was rather eager to keep my parentage secret, as you can imagine. As you said, this British committee of Apparation, they check just everything, and that sort of scared me off. I thought they might find out who I was, how old I really was and everything."

Sirius was fascinated, but also a little troubled by this revelation. Obviously, there were still a number of things about the witch in front of him that he did not know.

"When I was living in the States I considered learning it," she continued, "but you know, these American wizards, they Apparate like maniacs! Severed limbs and heads all over the place, I tell you. You wouldn't have wanted to try it either if you had seen them at it, believe me!"

She laughed at her own joke, and he laughed with her, drawing close to her. Suddenly she stopped dead in the middle of a laugh and gave him a serious look.

"I didn't tell you yet, did I?"

It was the perfect question to raise a newly found lover's anxiety, he thought. "What didn't you tell me?" he asked nervously.

"I'm going back to the States in three days."

"You are - what?" He felt his heart sink.

"Only for the holiday," she hurried to say and placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, I should have told you. I'm going to do another CD with my band. The studio is booked, and they got a number of things recorded already. Then we are going on a little tour, just a couple of gigs across the country. They kicked out my successor, you know, because he was really getting on their nerves. Now we've been sending tapes with new ideas back and forth, so we've got quite a few nice new songs patched together. I've been looking forward to it for ages - and now I wish I could take you with me!"

She said all this very quickly and with a pleading look, as if asking him to understand. He did, in a way, but then again, he did not. He noticed that while she had said she wished she could take him with her, she certainly hadn't said she wished she wasn't going. What had happened between them was so new and incredible to him. The thought that she might go away just now was simply unbearable.

"Oh, Sirius, don't look at me like that," she said despairingly. "I know it's lousy timing, but I'll be back in September, I promise!"

"You won't be back," he said darkly.

She frowned. "Of course I will. Why shouldn't I?"

"The job is jinxed. No Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher comes back for a second year of teaching."

"Says who?" Hands on her hips, chin up and eyes flashing, she was all indignation now.

"It's a rule," he explained. "It's a Hogwarts tradition. There hasn't been one in about thirty years who came back to teach a second year, as far as I know."

She laughed. "I'm not much of a follower of rules, you know. Neither do I give much heed to tradition. If nobody hexes me off the stage, I'll be back in September, I swear. It's my job, after all."

His canary-eating cat was back again, he thought. He felt a little better, though only a little. He rested his head against hers. "I can't believe you are going away just now," he murmured.

"Neither can I," she whispered and gently ran a finger across his cheek. "But it's not just now, it's only quite soon. For just now, let's make the most of the time we've got."