The Centaur's Shrine

Chapter 21 - An evening to remember

Gringotts,

The whole bank was in an uproar. It had been closed for the rest of the day. The managers were assembled in an emergency meeting to decide on how to respond to the Ministry's move, while the rest of the employees were busy shoring up the defenses of the building, as if they expected battalions of Aurors to charge and force the doors open.

All customers, and all humans, had been forcibly evacuated, except for Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley who were engaged in a one sided discussion with a Goblin official. Arthur had wanted to go back to the Ministry of Magic to work at things from the other end, but Dumbledore had asked him to stay, until they could at least have a talk with the Director of the bank. They had asked to see Gauldbag, but instead they found themselves confined in a small room, and referred to a 'representative of the Director'. The Goblin who had been assigned that role was evidently a minor clerk, and he had been given one clear order: to say nothing and to keep his ears open. It was an obvious insult from the bank officers. After a few minutes, when this became evident, the two wizards abandoned the pretence that they were having a real conversation, and they stopped talking.

The room they were in was extensively decorated with testimony from the most brutal parts of Goblin history. Pictures of violent battles and flaming cities, vicious looking cutlasses and pikes, and other war related paraphernalia. The table was very low in height, as were the chairs. It was a room designed to make Goblins at ease, and humans uncomfortable.

Not a very subtle message, thought Arthur.

After his initial alarm, Dumbledore had apparently taken the measure of things, and he now seemed almost serene. He was seated in one the leather chairs, twenty centimeters from the floor, and sampling sweets from a small bag he had pulled from his robes. He had proposed some Arthur, and to the clerk who had refused with a grimace. Goblins hated sugar. If they wanted to munch on anything, it would be tidbits of raw meat or mushrooms.

Arthur was the one who was seriously worried. He had tried to engage the Headmaster in a discussion of the situation, but the man only shook his head and indicated the surly Goblin watching them. Arthur scowled, but he got the hint.

Nobody had much information right now, least of all them. Whatever we say will be repeated to his superiors. Better to keep them in the dark.

Albus Dumbledore was going to play this one by ear. The first order of business would be to restore communication channels between the two sides. Once that was done, he would present himself as an impartial go between, and then he would try to understand what was really happening.

- - -

Inside another, much bigger room, Gauldbag was with all of the bank's senior officers. They were debating what actions should be taken in response to the Ministry's provocation. It was not generally known, but as Director of the bank, Gauldbag was de facto the leader of the Goblin community. There was a Goblin king of course, and a whole royal family actually, but it was a long time since they had yielded any real authority. Gringotts was the main source of power, and as Director he was only required by protocol to discuss his decisions with the king, who was a senile fool in any case.

He considered the roomful before him. They had talked for an hour now. All of them had spoken their minds, and already two centers of opinions were emerging.

One group of Goblins wanted to retaliate to the limit, and show the wizards that they had crossed the final red line. They considered themselves to be the moral descendants of the heroes who had led the previous Goblin rebellions. The time for negotiations was over, they argued. War had always been the necessary prelude to defining the proper relationship between the two species. Since that relationship was broken, it could only be rebuilt after a significant show of force.

The other group was much more concerned by the terrible cost which a full blown rebellion would entail. The Gringotts bank had only been founded as a secondary consequence of the last peace treaty. It had proved a boon for wizards and Goblins alike. Before that, there had been no real economy or wealth in the magical world. Actually, many people felt that the Goblins had gotten the best part of the deal at the time. When the treaty was first drafted, not too many wizards knew or cared a lot about the money business. In the end, the Goblins had become indispensable, and it had given them great prosperity. A war would destroy all that, and it was not obvious that the Goblins would be better of afterwards.

It would be bad for the wizards as well, of course. Without a proper financial system, wizard folks would have to integrate the Muggle economy, which would be very difficult because of the innate incompatibility between magic and electricity, or return to a primitive society of artisans and barter.

The key to Gringotts' success had been in the security provided by a stable, and non forgeable, money supply. Galleons couldn't be counterfeited. No wizard had ever managed to overcome, or duplicate, the peculiar magic which came of the Goblins' intimate relationship with metal in general, and with gold in particular. Of course, only isolated Dark wizards had tried to break the Goblin's monopoly, but everyone thought that it was impossible.

In Gauldbag's mind, all this meant that they had plenty of leverage. He dismissed the warmongers for the moment. He was determined to use the coming crisis as an occasion to better secure the rights of his people. In fact, he could not understand the rational for the wizards' act.

Why did they do this? It only provokes us, and it can only cost them more in the long run.

The decision had come from the Ministry of Magic. It was difficult to find logic in the activity of that body at the best of times, but surely they should have used it as a threat at first. It wouldn't have worked directly, but it would have expressed their willingness to fight. Not a bad thing at the start of delicate negotiations.

But they didn't even try to negotiate for something specific. Wizard Weasley had been very reasonable, and we were almost ready to reach an accord.

He saw Graskut give him a discrete signal and thought back on their conversation at the beginning of the week, when his assistant had told him about the unusual contract with the wizard Thelas.

Yes. That atypical provision would now prove very valuable to him. Most borrowers will feel the pinch as the interest rates will rise to the sky, but Thelas and Sir Comil's deal will give them the cheapest money around, for a time.

Perhaps it was a simple coincidence, but it deserved further discussion. In private, because there was no need to involve the already passionate spirits in this room.

He called the end of the meeting and gestured to Graskut that he was to remain a moment. He waited until the others had left, and it was just the two of them.

"What do you know of wizard Thelas' allegiances? And of his client?" he asked.

Graskut consulted a thick file.

"Wizard Comil has never shown specific links to any group. He is a businessman before anything, although he is close to several Snake families."

By that he meant the conservative Slytherin circles. Goblins felt more at ease with concrete symbols rather than family names. The four Hogwarts Houses were designated by their totem animals: Snakes, Lions, Eagles and Badgers.

"And wizard Thelas?"

"He pretends to be a businessman as well, but several clues would link him with important members of the Warlock council. One of these is wizard Shrummer."

That was interesting. Gauldbag was somewhat familiar with the politics of the Wizengamot. His position required it. The Minister would need the approval of many wizards to make his decision stick. In fact, with such a controversial choice, if he didn't get it, then his political career was finished.

So he must have expected that support. If Shrummer is part of it, then this makes wizard Thelas' actions very suspicious.

"What was the deal for?" he asked. Graskut told him, and he also repeated the argument about Thelas not wanting the young Potter to participate.

Gauldbag thought about it for a moment. He had been ready for the six students to come forward with a specific proposal for his race, maybe not immediately, but their preoccupation with magical minorities made it likely that Goblins would be contacted at some point. Of course if there was dissension among them, then it could explain why nothing had happened. He made a note to think about it later. Right now there were more urgent things to do.

- - -

Dumbledore looked at his watch once again, and then he decided that enough time had passed for him to make a move. He knew a lot about how Goblins did things. Fudge's action had angered and insulted them, and so a price had had to be paid in exchange. In practice, it had meant snubbing Arthur and him for an hour in a small uncomfortable room. The humiliation evened things out, and it also allowed him to act forcibly to end it without it being considered further provocation. It was all a game, silly for some, but very serious for the Goblins.

He stood up, awkwardly because of the low chair, and addressed the clerk watching them.

"I wish to speak with Goblin Gauldbag now," he asked firmly.

The Goblin looked back with narrowed and suspicious eyes.

"He is busy for the moment," he replied.

"In that case, wizard Weasley and I will leave," said Dumbledore.

The Goblin shot a glance at the closed and locked door and showed a toothy grin.

"You will stay until we allow you to go."

Dumbledore brushed some sugar crystals from his robes and looked at the door as if was suddenly something very interesting.

"I do not think that you want me to feel that I am a prisoner here," he said in a very quiet voice,

He turned toward the small creature. Standing up he was much higher that the diminutive clerk. The Goblin showed a hint of disquiet and looked nervously at the wizard's hands, which remained empty. Arthur pushed back his seat, so that he would be able to move quickly if the need arose. Nothing was said for a moment.

"I will see if Goblin Gauldbag is available," said the Goblin at last.

"That would be very kind of you," replied the wizard pleasantly.

The Goblin stood up slowly and walked out the door, which he closed but did not lock. Arthur shot an inquisitive look at the Headmaster and opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore shook his head. The less that was said the better. He remained standing, and motioned to Arthur to get up as well, so that he wouldn't have to do so when the bank Director came in. He then took out his wand and transfigured the table and the chairs so that things would be equally comfortable for both species. When he was finished, he restored his wand in his robes and turned calmly to examine the weapons displayed on the walls.

When the door opened again, Gauldbag and Graskut came in. They looked at the transformed furniture and frowned. Gauldbag and Dumbledore stared at each other silently for a moment. Arthur was now very much convinced that the Headmaster knew what he was doing, and he had decided to let him handle everything. He would watch and follow his lead.

Gauldbag finally gestured toward the table.

"Shall we sit down?" he proposed.

"An excellent suggestion," replied Dumbledore.

They moved to the table and a few seconds later, everyone was seated with their heads at the same level. It showed at least the basic arrangement for a discussion of equals. Gauldbag spoke first, as the host, and as the injured party.

"Today the human wizard authorities have taken an unilateral decision, which can only be seen as an attack on the interests of the Goblin community," he began formally. "We have not even been given an explanation."

He looked at Arthur, who represented the Ministry after all, but the man kept silent. He had already protested his ignorance of the decision. To repeat it would be an additional humiliation. He turned his head fractionally toward the Headmaster, while he vowed privately to take proper revenge on Fudge if that was the last thing he ever did.

"If I may reply," said Dumbledore, nodding in apology to Arthur who thanked him silently for the token gesture. "I would like to say that the Ministry's decision is certainly a mistake, in form if not in substance."

Gauldbag was becoming very angry.

So they want to play the innocent, and take me for a fool. I will show them that it is a bad strategy.

"I will not have you insult my intelligence with such remarks," he snarled. The pointed Goblins teeth were now displayed in a rictus which was much more frightening than the usual sinister grin.

"And I will not have you insult my integrity," replied Dumbledore with steel in his voice. His eyes narrowed, and a hint of golden light seemed to shine from them.

Gauldbag looked back with a hard face. He could not afford to show fear, but he conceded privately that he had made a mistake. Albus Dumbledore was a devious and powerful figure, but no one had ever heard him speak a lie. To imply as much had been a bad tactic.

"Are you telling me that the Wizengamot does not approve of this?"

"I do not represent the Wizengamot today, but I can assure you that it has not discussed the Ministry's decision," replied the wizard. "However I fully intend to convene a full session to address the problem."

"Can you guarantee that the decision will be overruled?" asked Gauldbag.

Dumbledore let his face relax. The Director was not really asking that question. Instead, what he was doing was accepting to start actual negotiations. The crisis was still very much real, but both parties agreed to talk about it. There was no chance to reach an agreement at this time, if only because the true state of mind of the Minister was still unknown, but the situation was not critical anymore.

"I am afraid that I cannot," he replied. "But I will speak with Minister Cornelius Fudge, and if necessary I will serve as an intermediary until matters are placed into the hands of the Wizengamot."

Arthur winced inwardly. That should have been his role, but he understood that he was now discredited. Damn you Fudge!

"I accept that for the moment," said Gauldbag. He stood up, immediately followed by his assistant. "The bank will remain closed in the meanwhile. I expect to hear from you promptly."

The two Goblins left the room, and this time they left the door opened. Arthur raised his eyebrow at Dumbledore who nodded with pursed lips. They came out in turn and were met by a Goblin usher who led them to a secondary exit. Which was just as well, since the main entrance was surrounded by a large crowd of unhappy customers. They walked away discretely to a point from which they could Disapparate.

- - -

Ministry of Magic,

The two wizards immediately reappeared inside the Ministry, which was in no less a troubled state.

"Mister Weasley!" called a disheveled witch as soon as he was inside. "We've been looking everywhere for you. The Goblins-"

"I know," Arthur interrupted impatiently. "We are just coming in from Gringotts. Where is Fudge?"

Other wizards were coming closer, anxious to find a figure of authority to unload their problems to. He silenced them and repeated his question. Now that he didn't have to play humble to the Goblins, he was feeling a tremendous rage building up inside him. Not even Dumbledore was going to keep him from telling the man what he thought of him.

"No one has seen him, sir. He left word that he was not to be disturbed."

"He did?" said Arthur in rising voice. "Well I do not plan on disturbing him. I PLAN ON GIVING HIM A PROPER REPORT ON THE SITUATION!" he bellowed.

They all moved back as they saw the righteous anger on his face. In all the time he had worked here, few people had ever seen Arthur Weasley lose his temper. This was a first, and it looked like it would make up for all those years. He started walking toward the elevators and the crowd made way for them. Some followed, but at a safe distance. Dumbledore kept close to him, and they had the elevator for themselves.

Arthur was still trembling with rage. The Headmaster said nothing. He had decided to let his friend express his anger, and even help him along if necessary. Decorum was important in front of Goblins, but not for Fudge. The man was either stark raving mad or a brainless puppet. In both case his opinion didn't matter anymore. They marched quickly and silently up to the desk of the Minister's private secretary.

Marge Pennywrinkle's eyebrows shot up in alarm as she saw them coming.

"Now just a minute," she said. "You cannot-"

Arthur ignored her. She started to rise to stop him from reaching the door to the inner office of the Minister, but Dumbledore gently held her back and placed a finger across her lips. She suddenly found herself mute and looked up in alarm. He nodded at her and guided her back to her seat. Meanwhile Arthur had found that the door was locked, and that none of his spells could open it.

He started to hammer at the panel with his hands, shouting Fudge's name and asking forcibly to see him. Dumbledore took out his wand discretely and timed his spell to coincide with one of the blows. The door exploded into large wooden pieces with a resounding crash. Marge let out a silent squeal. Arthur looked at his fist in surprise, and then back at the Headmaster who smiled and gestured for him to go inside. Dozens of people were watching from a distance, heads popping out of office doors, all of them fascinated by what was happening. Marge tried to get up again, but Dumbledore's hand reached out once more, and then she found that she was glued to her seat. A look of horror showed on her face. Muted and immobilized with vandals assaulting her dear Minister. It was the end of world.

Inside the room, Arthur was lashing out at his stunned superior.

"HOW DARE YOU PUT ME IN SUCH SITUATION!" he thundered, marching toward the desk. Behind it, Fudge was cowering in fear and desperately trying to find a way to placate his subordinate.

"Arthur, my dear man. We were so worried-"

"DON'T YOU DARE PRETEND THAT YOU CARE A WIT ABOUT ME," shouted Arthur. The sight of Fudge's trembling calmed him, and he lowered his voice a little.

"I have never heard of a more outrageous attitude than yours," he added seething. "I tender my resignation effective this instant, and I leave you, yes you sir, to assume the full extend of your criminal decision."

"Arthur, you have to understand," stammered Fudge. "Please stay. I need you."

"No! This was the last straw. I will stand no more."

He turned with a whirl of his robes and stormed out of the room, deaf to Fudge's pleas. The Minister fell back into his chair and groaned.

It's not my fault. Not my fault at all. I tried. Merlin knows I tried to do it in good order. That horrible woman, Umbridge, why did they do this to me?

He was lost into his self pity when he sensed another presence in the room, and when he saw who it was, he was suddenly transfixed with terror. This was no simple wizard before him, no Arthur Weasley who despite occasional fits of temper was still a kind and benevolent man. This was Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and from the look on his face, he was not in a good mood either.

Dumbledore took out his wand and, never taking his eyes from the Minister, swished it in a complex movement. The broken parts rose from the floor, reassembled in the air, and the door replaced itself flawlessly, shutting off the nervous whispers coming from the outside corridor.

"Minister," started Dumbledore in a low and menacing voice, "There are many differences between me and Arthur Weasley. One of them is that I require an explanation."

"No!" The man's face was twisted in panic. "I can't!"

"You will!"

His eyes darted away as the Headmaster tried to lock into them, but the man was so terrified that Legimency was useless. Fudge's mind was a sea of incoherent thoughts lashed by a storm of fear. He tried to speak but only random words could come out.

"Had to do it ... Finance ... Urgent ... Goblins ... Money ..."

After several fruitless attempts, Dumbledore straightened up and sat back into one of the visitor chairs.

The Minister was slowly recovering his wits. He also seemed to have acquired a nervous tic which deformed his face in an ugly grimace every ten seconds or so. His hands moved at random across his desk, picking items and moving them about fretfully. Dumbledore looked at him and wondered.

He is not faking this. The man has been under some kind of terrible pressure. If I tried to pierce through it, I may push him into irreversible madness. What in Merlin's name has happened to him?

There was not much that he could do. Fudge would not explain himself, but he could be prevented from taking any more senseless actions.

"I will leave you now Minister," he said. Immediately he sensed the turmoil in the man's mind abate. It was a sure sign of his being under some kind of compulsion.

Well, two can play at that game. I had better be careful though.

"I could ask you to reverse your decision ..." he asked, curious if Fudge could be persuaded to do so. He began to lean mentally on him once again.

The result was spectacular. Fudge immediately changed color, turning a dark red complexion. Shaking his head, he began to foam at the mouth.

"NO! ... I mustn't .. never ... Aaaahh!" He raised his hands to his temples and screamed as if he was in terrible pain.

"... but I will not," finished Dumbledore.

The Minister immediately slumped in his chair. His face haggard and sweating. The nervous tic started once again.

"However, I forbid you from taking any further decisions in the name of the Ministry," tried Dumbledore. He hoped this would be accepted. If not, he would have to do something much more drastic.

Fudge hiccupped, and alarm showed in his eyes for a moment, but then he relaxed again. He seemed to accept the command. To the Headmaster, this probably meant that whoever had meddled with the man's mind, had no further plans in the short term. It was good news, of a short.

"I suggest you take some rest now, Minister," he added.

Fudge's head dropped down suddenly on the desk with an audible 'clunk'. Shortly afterwards the sound of snoring could be heard loud and clear. Dumbledore stood up and sighed. He looked around the room at the portraits of the former Ministers, who showed various expressions of horror and fear. He tried to address them, but none of them would talk to him. By design, they were loyal to the acting Minister only, and it would be impossible for them to say anything which could incriminate him.

The Headmaster turned toward the door and opened it. A crowd of curious and frightened Ministry officials retreated quickly. He ignored them and freed the secretary from the spells he had cast on her.

"Miss Pennywrinkle?" he asked gently.

She could only stare back with terrified eyes.

"Can I trust you to convey a full session of the Wizengamot as soon as possible?"

She nodded convulsively.

"Thank you very much." He smiled benevolently at her. "One more thing. I believe the Minister is very tired. He is presently resting and should not be disturbed. Is that clear?"

She nodded again. Dumbledore gave her a friendly bow, and then he walked away toward the elevators.

Now, he would need to convince Arthur Weasley not to resign. It shouldn't be too difficult. Actually, he felt that all this was much simpler than dealing with the likes of Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall.

- - -

Hogwarts,

"All right," said Richard. "We've got to prepare what we are going to tell professor Lupin."

"What is there to prepare?" asked Silena.

They were very excited at the perspective, and by all the information Harry had given them. They didn't really know much of what the Marauders had done, but from what could be put together, they had probably been the most extraordinary group of pranksters the school had seen. They had set the standard for generations of successors, but the three of them were determined to follow their footsteps as far as possible.

"He could help us beyond anything Fred and George could do," said Richard dreamily.

"But he's a teacher," corrected Silena. "How could he help us break the rules?"

"I wasn't thinking so much about him helping us directly," he replied, "but he could tell us stuff. Give us tips and tricks like the ones we found in the Guide".

"He certainly could since he wrote part of it," said Alicia. "But Silena has a point. We need to speak to Moony, the ex-Marauder, and not to professor Lupin."

They stared at her with confused faces.

"He asked us for a story right?" They nodded. That part was simple enough. "Well we've got to tell it in such a way that he will remember what it was like for him and his friends. If we do it well enough, he may feel close enough to us to help us do what they did."

"Hum," said Richard, thinking it over. "You want to touch his heart. Well why not." He looked at Silena. "Okay, we'll prepare a story and Silena will-"

"No," interrupted Alicia. "You want to pull the same trick as on Hagrid, but it won't work as well as what I have in mind." She wasn't going to let him pull another 'smallest and cutest' maneuver.

He looked at her with a touch of annoyance.

"And what do you have in mind?" he said sarcastically.

She glared at him in reply. Silena sensed another dominance contest between sister and brother, and she sharply nudged Richard to make him stop. He made an exaggerated surrender gesture and gave Alicia the floor.

She talked for a moment, explaining her idea. Richard and Silena considered it carefully. They looked at each other for a moment, and then back at her.

"You would do all right in Slytherin," said Silena with a smug expression on her face. Richard grunted, but privately he too, thought that it was a good idea.

Their detention had been scheduled for right after the evening meal. It would take place in the History of Magic classroom, or rather in the special teacher's library of that classroom. It was also where Remus had set up his private office. Dinner went by slowly. As time passed and the critical hour approached, they weren't so sure anymore that everything would go as well as they'd hoped. It was really a very long shot after all. What would they do if professor Lupin denied the whole thing? They couldn't very well ask for Harry to testify for them. Silena was worried about something else. All her life she'd heard of Werewolves as monsters to be feared. If things came out badly, perhaps the professor would get very angry and this could provoke the transformation. They would probably get ripped to shreds before anybody could come to help them.

So it was a very subdued trio who walked up to the classroom door. Silena was holding the Tacking close to her neck. The little creature seemed to sense her distress and it cooed gently in an attempt to comfort her. They exchanged nervous glances once more, and then Alicia squared her shoulders and knocked decisively on the door.

"Come in."

Silena hid Furry into her robes and they all entered with precautions. The room was empty but there was light coming from the library. They walked over there and saw Remus seated at his desk. Two of the walls were covered with shelves, most of them filled with old, dust covered books. For having been in the room before, they knew that they all touched upon one subject only: Goblin rebellions. It was the legacy of professor Binns, the former History of Magic teacher.

In the middle of the room, there were also half a dozen wooden cases, already opened. These were filled with books as well. Remus had found them in the storage dungeons when he'd helped Severus put back the equipment that the Order had kept at Grimauld Place. Apparently, professor Binns had been gradually making room for ever more books on his favorite field of research, to the exclusion of all others.

"Good evening, professor," said the three children.

"Good evening to you as well," replied Remus. He gestured around them. "As you can see this will be a most scholarly detention. We need to make room for all the books in those crates. That will mean selecting the less interesting ones from the selves, and putting them away."

Richard considered the content of the room with alarm. There looked to be several hundreds of books, probably thousands. It would take them hours to do this.

"Er, speaking of books sir ..." he began.

Remus looked back at him with sly smile.

"Yes Mister Parker. I remember telling you I would consider giving it back after hearing your story. Do you have a good explanation for being in possession of it?" he teased.

"Yes professor," replied Alicia. "We have a story to tell you, and we think you'll find it interesting."

"But it's a children's story," added Silena. "So it should be told in the proper way."

Puzzlement showed on Remus' face and his eyes narrowed as he wondered what she was talking about. Richard explained it.

"She means that we should sit down on the floor in a circle when we talk," he said. "Of course, you can sit in a chair," he added. It would be best if the man sat down with them, but they couldn't really hope for it.

Remus hesitated, but his curiosity was aroused. He had expected a simple tale. The least damning one would have been that an older student had given them the book. He couldn't remember what had been done with it. It had been written in their third year. I think it was Sirius who had kept track of these things. Could he have hidden it away in the school?

"All right," he said. "I'm calling your bluff. However, let me warn you that you've upped the ante quite a bit."

The youngsters aligned themselves cross legged in front of him. Professor Lupin was a very easy-going professor, but decorum insisted that he be seated on something more dignified than the floor. He transfigured his chair into something with very short legs which still allowed him to sit in comfort without towering over them.

"Is that good enough for you?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm.

"It's perfect, professor," said Richard with dignity.

"Thank you," said Remus in the same tone. "Well, I am listening."

Richard gestured to Alicia to go first. She coughed to clear her throat and started to speak in a clear voice.

"It all started a long time ago when a group of friends started here in Hogwarts as students," she began. "They loved to have fun and play tricks, and they called themselves The Marauders." She stopped. She had proposed that they take turn in telling the story, showing by that they worked at a team, like Moony and his friends had.

"We don't know very much about what they did," continued Richard. "At first we only heard bits of things about them. But we know that they explored the school, looking for secrets and adventures."

"And we also know that they were very good friends," said Silena in her turn. "And that they cared a lot for each other."

Remus found himself completely stunned by what was happening. Whatever he had expected, it had not been to hear his own story, and that of James and Sirius, as if was some kind of fairy tale. He didn't know where this was leading, but he wouldn't have interrupted them for anything. Alicia continued.

"They had private names. One of them was called Prongs. He was brilliant and strong, and he could transform into a great big stag."

"The second one was called Padfoot," said Richard. "He was brash and daring, and he was also a big black dog."

Remus found that his mouth was dry, and that he had trouble breathing. Hearing these children describing his former friends was extremely moving.

"And then there was Moony," continued Silena. Her voice was trembling a little, but she made a big effort to control it. "He was very smart and wise. He was also a werewolf, but a kind and gentle one."

They had agreed beforehand not to mention Wormtail. Judging from Harry's reaction, they felt that it would spoil the mood they wanted to evoke.

"They did all sorts of amazing, and forbidden things," said Alicia, catching the man's eyes as she spoke. "And when they left the school, some of their stuff were left behind."

"Like that book we found," continued Richard. "We were given a riddle to solve, and it turned into a treasure hunt."

"The book was hidden behind the painting of a crazy knight on the last floor," added Silena.

The cache behind Sir Cadogan's painting! thought Remus, I remember that one.

They had also decided that they wouldn't dwell on the tragic fate that had followed the Marauders' time at Hogwarts. They knew that very sad events had followed, but it was still something beyond their experience to fully comprehend. It was grown up thing, and not something they felt really applied to their situation.

"Now there's only Moony left," continued Alicia. "He became a teacher, and he went back to the same school."

"But we think that he remembers," added Richard. "And we hope that he will tell us of the great time he had with Prongs and Padfoot."

"And the three of us," said Silena. "We've formed our own group, and we want to have wonderful adventures, just like they did."

"And we'll never forget them," finished Alicia.

Remus had winced in grief at first, as he relived the tragedy of their lives. Then he realized that the bad things which had happened afterwards didn't really matter tonight. These were kids, like he had been. When all was accounted for, the things they were talking about meant as much, if not more, than most of his adult life. He was happy with Tonks, and he could probably count on a future with her, and there was Harry as well, but the rest had been filled with many empty days.

And what about Sirius? And James?

He should be feeling sad, but he was not. He smiled at them, and suddenly it was as if all those years had disappeared. He could sense in them the same spirit that they had shared. They were right. It was wonderful to be young and to do these things, and he felt like a child once more.

"That's a very good story," he finally said. He took out the book and looked at it before giving it back to Richard. Relief and awe were visible on their faces.

"I think Moony would be happy to tell you a few things about what he and his friends had done," he added.

Joy and wonder were in their eyes. They weren't students anymore, he wasn't a professor, and this wasn't a detention. It was just Moony and the Avengers, like they had wanted it to be. The books were completely forgotten, as he talked about the first time the Marauders had met, and about other things they had done. In turn, they told him more about themselves. How they had started out and chosen their name. Fred and George Weasley. I might have known. They also talked about the Forest and the Centaurs, and about their friendship with Flitz. They had hesitated to mention him, but Remus said that it was a very good thing.

"Friendship is never a bad thing," he assured them, "and knowing more about another specie is even better."

"He said we might get to meet a Unicorn," mentioned Silena. "Do you think that's possible?" she added wishfully.

"We saw a Unicorn ourselves once," replied Remus with a smile. "From afar in the Forest. They don't mix with humans a lot, so don't get your hopes up too much."

"Why? Are they shy?" asked Richard. Remus shrugged.

"I don't know. I heard some people say that it's because of the dispute between the Centaurs and the humans. They are supposed to be close to the Centaurs, so maybe they don't like us, at least here. There are other parts of the world where relations are better."

"Why is there a problem between Centaurs and humans?" asked Alicia.

"I don't know. It goes back to very ancient times."

They went back to talking about more practical subjects. Remus didn't tell them about all the secrets of the school. Like Fred and George, he explained that they would have more fun discovering things by themselves, but he said enough to set their imagination on fire.

Then when it was getting late, and Silena couldn't stop herself from yawning, he called it off and escorted them to their quarters.

"Good night Moony," said Richard. He caught the warning in the man's eyes and sighed. "I guess that tomorrow it will be professor Lupin?" he added.

Remus nodded soberly.

"Yes. Tonight was special. I'm sure that you understand that."

"Yes, professor," said Alicia. "But we were very happy to meet a Marauder."

"And I was glad to meet the Avengers," replied Remus. "There will be other times," he added.

They smiled at each other one last time, and then they all went away to their beds, with images and memories dancing in their minds. The stuff of dreams and adventures.

- - -

London, Helen Parker's flat,

Helen was fussing about nervously in the small apartment. One more time, she made sure that everything was as should be. The dinner was all set for last minute cooking, little bowls of snacks were properly placed on the low table, and the wine was in the cooler.

This is completely ridiculous. I'm like a little girl on her first date.

She hadn't felt so nervous since her first rendezvous with Ethan. She realized with a start that she hadn't thought about him since the weekend. It seemed like only yesterday when she would cherish his memory at least once a day. Of course, it was one more sign that Severus had the potential to become something much more serious than the few 'friends' she'd had in the last years.

And yet. What do I really know of him? So little that my feelings are really frightening. I'm ready to give myself to him without having really thought anything out.

She would learn more tonight. They would talk, and then she would be able to rationalize her feelings.

What time is it? Half past seven. He'll be there in less that half an hour.

What kind of music would he like? Certainly not pop. Maybe some jazz, or Bach. She fumbled in her CD rack.

- - -

Severus Apparated at the closest safe point next to Helen's flat. He had allowed for enough leeway in his timing to give himself the time to shop for a simple gift for her. She would probably have appreciated flowers, and maybe she even expected it, but when he found himself in front of the florist, he realized that he just wasn't capable doing something like that. The very idea of walking the streets with a bunch of carnations, roses, tulips, or anything else comparable, was too alien for him, and he was afraid that it would send the wrong message. He had thought long and hard about this event, with undetermined results. He wasn't totally sure what message he wanted to send, but flowers wouldn't do. In the end he stopped at a pastry shop and got a wrapped box of chocolates.

The flat was on the seventh floor. He remembered that Muggles used elevators, like in the Ministry, and he only hoped that they wouldn't be too complicated to operate. Orienting himself was not obvious, but a group of young people, two boys and two girls entered the building shortly after him, and on a hunch he decided to follow them.

The booth was not very large and he resigned himself to the indignity of being at close quarters with the four cheerful, and for the boys at least, visibly inebriated youths.

"What floor?" asked one of the girls pleasantly. She had spikes in her hair, which was dyed bright red, and a metal stub was set in her lower lip.

"Seventh please," said Severus stiffly. And I thought that Nymphadora Tonks was a weird one.

"Seventh heaven for the man!" said the tallest boy. He punched the switch with a flourish, and the one for number four as well. The girls giggled and both boys laughed raucously. Severus said nothing and fixed the door panel stoically.

The elevator stopped at their floor.

"Fourth floor. Ladies' underwear," said the first boy, given Severus a saucy wink. The others giggled again as they came out into the landing.

Kids! thought Severus. They really are the same everywhere.

He waited for the doors to close before shaking his head in disgust. It was at times like this that he wondered if he belonged on the same planet as the people around him.

The elevator stopped again on the seventh floor. He came out and explored around to find the proper door. His nervousness was rising. The name 'Parker' was written next to a bell button on the second one he examined. He took a deep breath, checked his clothing, and rang. A soft chime sounded and after only a couple a seconds, the door opened on Helen's smiling face.

"Hi, Severus."

"Good evening, Helen." The sight of her was enough to relax his expression and bring some warmth on his face. He completely forgot about the youths in the elevator.

She ushered him in. They looked at each other awkwardly, and then he gave her the box of chocolates.

"For you," he said.

"Oh. Thanks a lot. You really shouldn't have, but I love them. Can I take your cloak?"

She led him to the main room. He stood in the middle and she gave him the time to look around. The living room doubled as dinning room, a table for two was set up on the side. It was a bright and cheerful room, decorated in soft colors. There was a distinct feminine touch to it, even to the sweet floral smell which mixed with the aroma coming from the kitchen. He took on an unconscious half smile as he considered the little details of the apartment.

"You have a very nice home," he said.

"Thank you. I try my best," she said, feeling ridiculously pleased with his appreciation. "Please sit down. Can I get you a drink?"

"A drink would be fine."

"What do you like? I've got some white wine, or scotch, fruit juice?"

"I think I'd like some wine."

She left the room and returned with a bottle and two glasses. She poured for each of them and handed him one.

"To your health," she said.

"To your health," he replied. They took a sip and looked at each other. The happiness of her face was infectious. He thought that it made her really beautiful.

"So, how are things at school?" she asked.

"Nothing special. A little edgy right now that's all," he said distractedly.

"Edgy?"

He shrugged.

"Students periodically get wound up over some things." He told himself that he didn't want to get into Hermione Granger's troubles. "That last game for instance, or exams. With so many of them cooked up in the same building, small tensions are inevitable."

"And how are Richard and Alicia?"

He allowed himself a smile as he imagined the kind of 'detention' they were probably having with Remus. The man hadn't fooled him for an instant. That was why he had set things straight with Richard and Silena.

"They are doing very well as far as their schooling goes. Outside of classes, they are a little more active than the average student," he said. "And that's saying something believe me, but it's nothing the teachers can't handle."

"Hum."

He decided to change the subject. He stood up to get a small thin book from his cloak and gave it to her.

"Speaking of school work. I wanted you to have this," he said.

"What is it?"

"The monograph I was talking to you about the other day." He gestured toward it. "Well this is it. I will be presenting it officially at the Ministry next week," he said with evident pride.

"Oh, that really great," she replied, evidently pleased for him.

She opened the book. On the first page she came upon a dedication to her name.

The work retraced here owes much to my teachers and staff, but most of all to one person. I wish to thank Helen Parker for her significant assistance. This line of inquiry was prompted by her curiosity, guided by her brilliant analysis, and it could not have succeeded without her.

In sincere gratitude - Severus Snape

She was flattered and she felt a warm feeling inside her. He cares! He would not say such things if he didn't care.

"Whoa! Severus. I don't know what to say, except thank you, of course."

He looked back at her with satisfaction. It was not something that he would have done for many people, and he had surprised himself in wanting to do it for her.

"You certainly deserve it. You have really been a precious help."

She smiled and raised her glass in toast.

"Well. Let's drink to your presentation, and growing fame."

He did the same, and at that moment he felt very good. For an instant he'd had this irrational fear that she would refuse the tribute, or that she would insist on more credits. It was crazy, but Severus was painfully aware that he had a lot of trouble understanding other people, and she was not exception.

The first hurdle was over, and now he could relax a little. He took a long sip of wine and looked away for a moment. His eyes fell on a picture on the wall. It showed Helen holding a bow and aiming at a target. She was outside, in some kind of field, and there were several other persons around her. Under the photograph, on a chest of drawers, were several award cups.

"I remember you telling me about your sporting activities," he said, gesturing toward the picture and the cups. "Are those from contests you've entered?"

She followed his gaze.

"Yes. I don't do it as regularly as before, but I did win a few trophies, and I made it once to finals of the BUSA championship in 94. That's a competition for all British universities."

He pursed his lips in appreciation. She talked a little more about her life, about the things she did in her work and outside. He thrived to know more about her, asking questions when he didn't understand something.

"And what about you?" she asked finally, after they had covered most of the subject. He checked himself and managed to hide it. "Wait. Let's start dinner before you answer. Otherwise we'll never eat."

Thankful for the respite, he followed her in the little kitchen. Curiosity made him examine the Muggle tools she was using. He noted that she had evidently spent a lot of time preparing for tonight. They would have scallops in curry sauce for starters, and then a complex fish dish for the main course.

"I hope you like salmon."

"I eat anything," he replied. "This looks very elaborate. I'm impressed."

"Well. I don't often have the occasion to cook for more than one person. I hope I still remember how."

He assured her that it looked fine. They gathered the scallops, some bread, and went to the table. Helen lit some candles and lowered the room lights. She'd worried it would make him uneasy, but actually Severus found the darkened ambiance more pleasant. It reminded him of the dungeons. They started eating. The food was delicious and he complimented her without reservations. They continued their conversation. She kept giving him openings to get him to talk about himself, but would evade the questions and go on about indirect aspects of his life as a wizard. The school, magical folks, anecdotes about potion making. At first she didn't press him. What he said was interesting, and she respected his reticence. When they were finished, they retired to the main room, him on the sofa, and her in a chair. They had kept their glasses and the lights remained low, so that the atmosphere was still intimate.

She decided to broach the subject directly.

"Why don't you want to talk about yourself Severus?" she asked softly.

"There is not much worth telling," he replied, shrugging. And there are too many things that would make you sick.

She didn't buy it.

"Not even you believes that. I can guess that you've had hard times, but surely there must have been some happy moments in your life?" She leaned toward him and tried to catch his gaze.

"Well..." He reflected on the few pleasant memories he could recall. Up to six months ago, there weren't many of them. His hesitation gave Helen part of the answer.

"That bad?" she said in a very kind voice.

He had decided beforehand that he would not talk about his past. It could only cause her, and him, unneeded distress. But now, after the food and wine, and the hours of pleasant conversation, he felt his resolve weaken. Maybe he could lift the veil just a little.

"A lot of it was bad yes," he whispered.

"That evil wizard?" she asked. "The one whose name they wouldn't even speak?" He nodded. "But it's over now, isn't it? And you must have had some good times before that, even as a child."

He looked at her with a dead expression. What could he say of his childhood? The brutal Death Eater sympathizer who had been his father? His life in a stiffly formal family? The bullying by Harry' father and his friends?

"I think that my oldest good memory is when I discovered potion making, and that I could excel at it," he finally said. Perversely he forced himself to watch her eyes as she took that in, and deduce the corollary that the rest of his life had been mostly joyless.

"I- I'm sorry," she said. She reached out and took his hand. "I don't want you to talk about sad things Severus. I want you to be happy, but I also wanted very much to know more about you. Forgive me."

He could sense the sympathy, and her sincere willingness to make him feel better. He found that he wanted to talk, but he was still afraid to dig out the ugly truths of his life and hurt her with them.

"Believe me. You do not want to know certain things about me."

"Do you think that you are an evil man?" she asked. He jerked up, surprised at the question.

"No, I don't think so," he responded automatically. He thought a little more about it, consciously trying to be objective about himself. "I would not say that I am a good man. I did many bad, even evil, things, some of which I regret, and some which had to be done. For higher duty, I guess that you could say. But I do not consider myself evil."

He was plainly on the defensive, and she decided that she would press him while she could. Even at the risk of betraying some secrets she had been told, actually it was not even that. It was just confidences between friends.

"Someone told me that Harry saved you. Is that true? How did it happen?"

He looked at her sharply. Someone had been talking too much, or was meddling in his affairs. He wondered who it could be. She held his gaze without flinching. The way she looked at him, young, earnest and ... caring. It reminded him of a young man who had meddled too, with incredible naivety and for the greater good of everyone. A little voice in his mind told him to stop it here, to get back in control of the situation, but another voice said that it was all right, that he was safe. He looked away.

"Yes he did," he said softly. He paused and a slow smile grew on his face. "Actually I think that was the happiest moment of my life," he added in a murmur.

She considered his expression and marveled at what she saw there. A look of pure innocence and wonder, like on a child's face. It was beautiful to watch, and she yearned for the chance to be the cause of such a moment to him.

Looking up, he saw the sympathy and the awe. It was very touching, and the last shred of his resolve dissolved. He started to speak. He told her the pretty much the same story he had told Draco, adding a few details about Remus and Sirius that she wouldn't know, and without the experience of the pensieve. And then he told her about helping bring Draco into Harry's group, and the salient points of what had happened during the last months.

He talked for a long time, often looking in the distance, and sometimes at her. She didn't interrupt. When he was finished, she moved to sit next to him on the sofa and just placed her hand on his shoulder. He was conscious of her touch, and this time he accepted it as something natural. They stayed silent for a moment.

"Thank you for telling me that," she said softly. "Now I understand how Harry and Draco love you."

He grunted and started to scowl. She stopped him.

"No," she continued. "They really do."

He stared at her and searched for doubts in her eyes. He wanted to believe that, and sometimes he did, but it was very difficult for him to conceive of what that really meant. Admiration and respect he could understand, and he could believe he had it. But love, that was an abstract thing, and it made him uncomfortable.

"And so do I," added Helen, reaching slowly toward him.

Her lips approached his. He could not move, and when they made contact, it was the softest of caress. He felt the rest of her body press against his own. She was leaning over and losing her balance. His arm closed in an automatic embrace to keep her from falling, holding her up against him. For a full second he was kissing her, oblivious to his doubts and his past resolve. He was lost in the magic of the moment. Helen had already abandoned herself to the ecstasy of it. Then she felt him stiffen as he remembered something the Headmaster had said.

Young people are always so eager, too eager. They will run toward the flame and get burned.

"No!" he said. He took her shoulders in his hands and pushed her gently away from him. "We must not do this."

"Why? What's wrong?" she said, puzzled. Everything was perfect! What is happening?

Severus was feeling like a man on the brink of a precipice, knowing the slightest movement could send him tumbling into the abyss. He had almost forgotten his resolution not to do this to her. The decision he had taken to protect her from himself.

"I am not the right man for you," he said.

"I thought that-" The pain of rejection that was all over her face was more than he could stand.

"I care very much about you Helen," he interrupted. The wounded expression abated and was replaced by confusion. "I truly do, but you would only get hurt if we ... got together."

"How do you know that?" she retorted. "I don't think so," she added with a hint of rebellion.

He sighed and looked at her sadly. He was still holding her. An intellectual part of him remarked that he was not in the least reticent to touch her, but he was holding her away.

"I have told you something of my life, but I have not told you the worse. There are things I had to do which are too terrible to describe. Things which have burned my soul away. I can feel your affection, but I will not be able to respond to it like you deserve."

"I don't believe you!" she exclaimed. "I could feel it when you kissed me back."

He shook his head angrily, not at her, but at himself for that moment of weakness. He released her and pulled back on the seat.

"That was just the body reacting. Helen, we would be happy for a few weeks, maybe for a few months, and then it would go bad. You would start to suffer because of me. I am not a good man, but I do not want you to endure that. It is better that we remain friends."

She winced at hearing the finality of the rejection in his voice.

"Are you saying that you cannot love?"

"That is what I am saying, yes."

This was proving much more difficult than he had imagined. He felt himself losing ground. He wasn't really sure of anything actually, but his reason told him to ignore the maelstrom of emotions battering at him. It spoke of duty and responsibility, and that was a language Severus understood better that what his feelings were telling him.

She will no desist until I tell her in a definite way.

"I care for you Helen, but I ... do not ... love you."

She gasped. Uttering those words tore at his soul, and the resulting pain on her face only made it worse. He couldn't think objectively anymore. He had often suffered at the Dark Lord's hands, and others. He had been terrorized, humiliated, tortured and rejected. Tonight, he was discovering a new agony to add that macabre list.

Helen said nothing. Her devastated face was looking blindly back at him. She didn't cry, but her lips were trembling. Like him, she was too caught up in emotions to think clearly. She had hoped so much. She had thought that the moment was finally there, and now it was all over before it had even begun.

They stayed silent for a time, and Severus gradually recovered some control.

"I am terribly sorry, Helen," he said. "I will be glad to see you again, as a friend, and I will be available if you need anything."

She didn't reply. Her eyes were still looking at him, but her face seemed frozen in misery. She tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to her.

"I think that it is better if I go now," he said softly.

He got up and walked toward where his cloak was. Moving made him feel better, any action would, anything that could distract him. He turned toward her.

"Good bye, Helen."

The words seemed to rouse her from her paralysis and she finally spoke up.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

Helen's mind has resumed working, slowly, and jerkily like a broken toy. She walled off the pain, for the moment. She told herself that if she couldn't have him, then she might as well accept Amelia Bones' offer concerning FOM. She would not do it for Bones, or for the Ministry, in fact she blamed them for imposing such conditions on her, but it didn't matter. She would do it for herself. She told herself that she was going to fight, like she had done before, and not lose herself in despair.

"About your monograph. I would like you to do something for me."

Relief at her positive reaction was visible on his face. Of course he would be glad to help her in any way.

"I want you to remove the dedication to my name," she said, unmindful of what her request would sound like.

The change on his face was dramatic. It was as if she had slapped him, or punched him in the gut. It was his turn to feel the blow of rejection, and he reacted with automatic anger.

"Accio monograph!" he barked.

The thin book flew into his hand. Before Helen could react, he had flipped it open and ripped the page off. She looked back in alarm and tried to explain the actual reason she was asking him this, but didn't give her the chance.

"I expected more respect from you," he snapped angrily. "I am sorry to have caused you pain, but your reaction is petty and trivial."

Damn you Albus! You were wrong, and I was right all along. Open up your armor and they stab at you the first chance they get.

She was too shocked to reply. It was a mistake, if he would listen, she could explain everything.

"It will be as you wish it," he added. "Good bye."

Before she could say a word, he threw the book and the crumpled page on the floor, and then he Disapparated with a loud cracking sound.

Helen remained motionless. The harsh parting words echoed in her mind. After a moment she considered the two objects at her feet. The book had opened upon landing. It was lying face down, and several pages had been roughly folded in the process. She knelt and took it gently, closing it properly. She took the torn page and slowly tried to smooth it. She could feel an overwhelming anguish rising inside her. She fought back desperately, willing herself not to cry, but when her eyes fell on the words he had written, she just couldn't hold it back anymore. She started to tremble. Her vision blurred as great big tears ran down her face. One fell on the paper with a barely audible sound. It was enough to dissolve her remaining control, and then she just gave herself up to the pain.

An evening to remember Ch21 - 21