A Season of Change

Chapter 10

Remus glanced up anxiously from his book at a large time piece hanging over the fireplace. The smooth pearl face was covered with assorted images of golden snitches, purple-robed witches, and owls that whizzed and flashed different colors. It was beyond a doubt, the oddest clock he had ever seen. He didn't recall seeing it during his last visit and wondered briefly where Dumbledore had acquired it. Peering closely at the many dials, he determined the time to be just past half past four.

Sirius was late. Punctuality wasn´t one of his strong points, and despite promises of trying harder, Sirius inevitably strolled in on his own time. Normally, Remus didn´t bother to become upset over this infraction, but suddenly he was extremely annoyed that his partner didn´t have the consideration to at least make an effort. Testy testy...

Remus flipped through the pages restlessly. Coming to Hogwarts had done little to alleviate his anxiety. As soon as Dumbledore had been apprised of the situation, he immediately pulled out all of the student rosters for the past century. The two men poured over the names of the parents, searching for the mandatory Ministry mark; the mark included with every werewolf signature. There were only a handful of names, five to be exact.

Charlie´s message flashed in Remus´ mind. "The Bristol werewolf´s name was Dietmar Huber."

And there was his name. Dietmar Huber, deceased guardian of sixteen year old Ravenclaw, Christian Huber.

After comparing the Hogwarts´ rosters and the Ministry ledger, it appeared that all of the remaining werewolf parents in Great Britain had gone into seclusion. Remus pinched the bridge of nose. He felt frustrated beyond belief, for while Margaret and Macnair were quickly gaining strength on their side, he was running in constant circles. I need access to the Ministry files... particularly the trial transcripts, he thought agitatedly. Strumming his fingers, he re-read the names on the ledger from the Ministry.

Mary McAllister. Interesting, he thought, Dietmar Huber pushed aside for the moment. Werewolf mothers were extremely rare and took incredible risks just to bring their child into the world. He was rather amazed the Ministry sanctioned the birth instead of putting a stop to it prematurely. Unless, he mused, she never visited a MediWizard... He shivered at the agony Mary must have endured. Scrolling down the list, he noticed that in the last century, she was the only werewolf to give birth. The rest of the names on the list were men.

"Albus," Remus began, frowning at Mary´s name and the year of the birth. "It says here that in October of 1940, Mary McAllister gave birth to a daughter lycanthropy-free. She obviously managed to escape Section 1521." He ran his eyes down the page. "Plus, there´s no notation of either of their deaths, so they have to be alive somewhere..."

Dumbledore eyes narrowed. "October 1940... ah, Remus, she was born during the Battle of Britain. It would have been easy for the Ministry to overlook the birth of her child."

"Overlooked or didn´t care? The birth of her daughter is noted in the ledger."

"Perhaps someone notified the Registry after the fact. Most of the Ministry during this time was engaged in assisting the Royal Air Force. You have to remember that the Wizarding community was not untouched by the Blitz."

Dumbledore´s words affected him deeply. How frightened the poor woman must have been. Not only did she have to conceal her lycanthropy, but she was also pregnant and hiding from the Ministry during wartime. Remus´ grandmama had kept a photo journal from the war, and whenever his mother dropped him off at her flat for the afternoon, he would spend hours watching the tiny little battle scenes. Muggle warfare was certainly innovative--and very fascinating to a child whose parents tried to shelter him from the unpleasantness in life. In fact, Elizabeth would have abhorred her mother´s judgment in allowing a three year old to witness such destruction.

Remus smiled as he remembered how the older woman who always smelled strongly of camphor had showed him a hidden latch in her truck best for hiding things from one´s mother. It wasn´t the blood and death that enthralled him, those he could well do without, but rather the mechanisms employed as flying machines dropped bombs from the sky and created piles of rubble where buildings used to stand. He had once thought his grandmama that bravest woman in the world when she showed him a jagged scar running the length of her calf. She had brushed it off with a tinkle of a laugh, yanked her skirt in place, and picked up her tiny army figurine who was sulking under his helmet. He never saw the scar again, and soon after his fourth birthday she had died, but in her will she had left her trunk to him. To this day, no one knew of the existence of the album.

And here was another woman who had lived through the same nightmare, had witnessed the same destruction of life, and he felt such remorse for creating childish fantasies out of their struggles. He thought of an army helmet he had fashioned from a crinkled tin pot and of toy soldiers silenced in the bottom of the trunk. Perhaps it had been the only way in which his grandmama had been able to live with the memories--by seeing the events through the wide-eyed innocence of a child--a child who thought her the most amazing woman in the world.

How Mary must have feared for the safety of her child. "I want to talk with Mary, Albus. I need to understand why she wasn´t targeted--how she escaped repercussion from Section 1521, and why--" he stopped abruptly.

"Why she is still alive and the Bristol werewolf was executed," Dumbledore finished. He watched Remus closely.

"Yes, that. I have to understand, Albus. You don´t understand," he whispered, "I´m slowly going mad. I have all this hurt built up here--right in here--and it just presses and presses against me. I can´t sleep for thinking." He felt awkward speaking from the heart, but he realized that where his family was concerned, he couldn´t afford to close himself off. Night after restless night had passed, his mind a cyclone of horrid images and frightening voices: Sirius´ cries of anguish, Elizabeth´s tear-stained face, the evil satisfied glint in Margaret´s eyes... and the cold steel blade of Macnair´s axe. After waking in a cold sweat, Remus had quickly penned a note telling Sirius he was taking a few days off to visit Dumbledore. He asked Sirius to bring Elizabeth to Hogwarts on the third day.

Remus stared at the stained glass windows lining the tower. Sunlight filtered through the multi-colored panes and colored the dull gray stone floor. He admitted to himself that he came to Hogwarts partly in search of a reprieve from his nightmares and from the constant worried look in Sirius´ eyes. His body was but a shell of himself, and he found it far easier to walk the halls with the silent presence of the ghosts as company than to pace between the rooms of the cottage where expectant watchful eyes watched him from every corner--always wanting to talk. But now, three days later, he felt incredibly lonely and wished for the comforting warmth of his lover´s arms.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and rolled up a long piece of purple-feathered parchment entitled "A Study of Werewolf Physiology". He tied it securely with a length of gold string and placed it atop an already precarious pile of similar essays.

"Well," he said in smoothly modulated tones, "it appears, Remus, that lycanthropy can be passed down from parent to child."

Remus paled. "I knew that."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Mary´s child is very fortunate. It´s amazing she survived the pregnancy. What is her name, may I ask?"

"Bridget. Her mother named her Bridget," Remus paused as a troubling thought crossed his mind. "Do you suppose, Albus, that this ledger is completely accurate?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If what you say is true, then certainly all the births couldn´t have resulted in lycanthropy-free children."

"When the ledger records the cause of death, does it specify it for both parent and child?"

Remus glanced quickly at the ledger. "It only gives the date of death for the parent. You´re not thinking..." A stunned silence ensued. He swallowed quickly. "They kill them, don´t they?" he whispered. "They execute the children born cursed." His chair scraped gratingly against the stone floor. A muscle worked spasmodically in his jaw as he ground his teeth. A fury unlike any he had ever known raged inside of him, boiling his blood.

"That´s it," he spun around, ire burning from his molten gold eyes. "Sirius said that he and Charlie and Hermione couldn´t understand why so many werewolves weren´t able to raise their children. They weren´t even given a chance to be parents. The Ministry records their names and their birthdays but leave off the date of their deaths to conceal this atrocity." Trembling, he realized he was shouting.

Dumbledore quickly moved to stand in front of the emotion-wracked man. "Remus," he said quietly, "listen to me. Right now we have to concentrate on helping you and Elizabeth. We can´t bring those children back to life. Remus--" he laid fragile wrinkled hands on the other man´s trembling shoulders. "Think of your daughter. If you have to, Remus, think of the other children out there that need a hero--you can offer them hope."

Remus´ lips twisted. "I used to think I understood Harry´s upset over being considered the hero, the Boy-Who-Lived... but now..." his voice trailed off. "I´ve got to do this, Albus, don´t I? Too many children have died at the Ministry´s hand. It´s fucking barbaric." He turned away, his shoulders shaking.

"Is it any more barbaric than executing grown werewolves?"

"Sweet Merlin, no. Grown werewolves can learn to exercise control and restraint. Children don´t know the difference yet. They have to learn--to be taught. It´s one thing to prevent a pregnancy, it´s another matter all together to kill an already born child," Remus snarled.

"Yes, I thought you would feel that way, Remus. So," he said carefully, "you don´t think that werewolves should have children?"

Remus´ throat felt tight. "It´s not that simple. That´s a very generalized statement you make, Albus. It´s as if saying all humans should be parents simply because they posses the biological tools." He took several steps across the room and turned. "I wouldn´t wish this on even my worst enemy. I agree with Section 1521 to a degree, I suppose... but there is a difference between procreating and parenting. I would never risk having a biological child of my own, but that can´t prevent me from loving a child."

"And if you should bite the child yourself?"

"Albus! You suggest that I cannot exercise restraint at all! There are precautions--potions--a million steps that can shield from Elizabeth from me--"

"But nothing is guaranteed."

"Certainly not," Remus bit out, "but there is no guarantee that anyone of us couldn´t suddenly snap and do something that goes against our very principles. You still speak of generalities. I speak of specifics. This is not so much a battle about my parenting skills but about my rights as a human being, and according to Lancaster and Macnair I don´t have either. It´s about whether or not for the 29 to 30 days of the month that I am free from this creature that runs through my blood, I am actually a man. It´s about bigotry. There is no rationalization about this, Albus." Remus jerked his finger towards the window. "Out there--out there the majority of the world hates me, fears me, and blindly categorizes me. And for what? I have my lycanthropy under control! Who are they to dictate whether I deserve to live?"

A single iridescent tear slid down his cheek and fell to the floor.

"I´ve always wanted a child, Albus. I´ve dreamt of it actually. Silly of me, I know, but when I was small I remember wanting nothing more than a younger sibling--and I knew--I knew why my parents never had another child. It was because of me. Because I was cursed they lost all hope of ever having a grandchild. So you see? I´ve always had this hole in me... a gap of sorts... and as I became a young man I realized with such amazing futility that I never would be able to have a child--for so many reasons. Reasons stacked upon reasons none of which make sense together but are complete on their own. And then, you see, Sirius came back to me and suddenly I thought if that were possible, if this god that I never gave a second thought to could grant me this one gift, then why could I not ask him for another? After all, it´s not as if I´ve pestered him with trivial matters all these years. So I allowed myself to think of a child... just in my own mind... it took me three years to share this with Sirius--my Sirius who was never really receptive to the small people in the world."

Dumbledore was silent.

"But you know the ironic part of this? Sirius was overjoyed. It was a chance for the two of us to finally start something off on the right foot, and he grasped the idea and ran with it. It started off with a request to the Ministry followed up by pleas... but you know all this. Did he tell you how upset I was when he bought wallpaper for the nursery? No? Well I saw it as a slap in the face because I never dreamt that the decree would come down. I hated him for a moment, Albus, and I´ve never hated him before--not even when I thought he was guilty--because I knew... I just knew. But this! This deliberate attack on my emotions... I had forgotten how strong my longing was. Elizabeth fulfills me, Albus. She completes me in a way no one will ever be able to. This dream of mine finally came true, and for once I forgot about the person I am today and thought only of myself in the past. And I was whole."

He stood tall, proud, defiant--and yet, vulnerable.

"I still don´t see how I can convince them that we´re human... It´s a futile battle, Albus, you know that."

"Perhaps that´s not the only way to solve this problem."

Remus started slightly at the change in the older wizard´s tone.

"If you fight this battle centered on proving your humanity, I am afraid we´re all going to be searching for an Elixir of Life to last us through to the end. If, however, you attack it from a slightly different angle... one which deals with love and faith and emotions..." Dumbledore smiled warmly at Remus.

Slowly the twitch in his jaw lessoned. "Macnair and Margaret are rather heartless, hm?" A trace of a smile touched his lips. "There will be a panel of jurors..."

"Yes and perhaps we can do something about that as well." Merry blue eyes twinkled. "Not," he added quickly at Remus´ surprised look, "what you think. It wouldn´t be ethical to fix the jury, eh Remus?"

Ethics... Yes, indeed. We can certainly play their game, Remus thought, feeling the first burst of optimism since the whole mess had begun. To win we´ll have to use their very tools against them...

Dumbledore nodded as Remus began to comprehend his meaning. Turning towards a garishly painted tea set, he flicked his wand gracefully and sighed in satisfaction as scones and miniature cucumber sandwiches appeared on the tray. A darling little pot of strawberry jaw bumped into the cream.

"Tea, Remus?" He straightened the teetering pitcher and added tea leaves to the pot. The heady warm aroma drifted through the air.

Remus' stomach growled in response. "Thank you, I'd be delighted." He took off his reading glasses and began to move aside stacks of dusty books and several fat pots of ink. Quills with broken nibs were banished to the waste bin. "Would you mind terribly, Albus, if I opened the window a bit?"

"Not at all. I could use a bit of fresh air."

The lead frames pushed open easily. A rush of excited voices drifted upwards. "Ah... it's close to Halloween. I had quite forgotten." Remus could detect faint traces of smoke drifting from the bonfire beyond Hagrid's hut. It had been years since he had experienced autumn at Hogwarts. The Scottish landscape was glorious in all its untamed beauty--far different from the coastal line of southern England. Even the Forbidden Forest adapted a new tone with the coming of cooler weather. The denseness of the foliage seemed broken up by the wash of primary colors, and there was a rich spicy aroma floating on the air. Unintelligible shouts drifted from the Quidditch pitch, broken up by the occasional crack of a bat hitting the iron Bludger.

Dumbledore joined Remus at the window. A slight breeze ruffled his long gray beard. "I'm glad the wind has died down. I can think of very few things worse than being cooped up in a stuffy tower that shakes and rattles on its own." He winked at the younger man.

Remus opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by an exalted cry.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore clapped his hands in delight. "There is nothing I enjoy more than the sight of a good harvest." Several students pushed large wheelbarrows packed full of orange-red pumpkins across the grounds. Professor Sprout followed, her arms laden with an assortment of rainbow-colored gourds. Hearing the Headmaster voice, she looked up at the tower and waved merrily.

"Move along, now," she ordered, her voice rising faintly through the window. "Professor Flitwick's expecting these--Miss MacCulloch! Kindly remove yourself from the wheelbarrow and help Mr. Lacey..."

Remus chucked, as flashbacks of his days as a professor came to mind. "I've forgotten how incorrigible these youngsters are."

A smile touched with a trace of sorrow lingered on Dumbledore's lips. "I'm thankful that these students have the opportunity to be young. So many of our students were lost during the war or were forced to age far too quickly." His eyes followed the troop of pumpkin-bearers into the castle. Remus knew instinctively he was thinking of Harry.

"Ah... but the tea...I digress." He returned to the table and graciously asked Remus to pour.

Smooth golden liquid flowed through the strainer into porcelain cups. "Cream, sugar, or lemon, sir?"

Dumbledore yawned lightly. "Just lemon for me, please. Thank you, Remus." He spread a healthy portion of strawberry jam onto his scone and took a bite. "Mmm... delightful. There was an uprising the last time I swiped all the jam from the kitchen. Minerva in her tartan nightdress brandishing her wand is something even I manage to avoid." He laughed in delight and leaned forward in confidence, "She still thinks a student is responsible for pinching all the jam despite Dobby´s protests to the contrary."

Remus' eyes crinkled in appreciation. He raised his cup to his lips and sipped the sweet beverage. Three cucumber sandwiches soon followed. Smiling apologetically, he said lightly, "The week or so preceding the full moon leaves me frightfully hungry, I'm afraid."

Three scones and two cucumber sandwiches later, Remus patted his stomach contentedly. "Albus, how well do you know Christian Huber?"

"Christian Huber? He´s a six-year Ravenclaw. If I recall correctly, he´s quite bright--somewhat shy--not like certain other students in my memory." Dumbledore refilled their cups, steam rising gently.

"His guardian was Dietmar Huber, the Bristol werewolf."

"Yes... It´s been years since the incident happened." Dumbledore mused. "When Christian first arrived I pulled him aside to speak with him briefly. I didn´t address the issue for fear of opening freshly healed wounds." Remus nodded in agreement. "Christian progressed slowly. Over the years he has managed to make a few close friends and excel at his studies. Professor Vector in particular says Christian shines in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

Remus smiled. He felt something akin to empathy spark inside. The brilliant young man had years of opportunity available to him, and while he might outwardly appear to have adjusted to life, Remus wasn´t fooled. Scars burned deep had their way of resurfacing in the most inopportune moments. Perhaps that was why Christian excelled in classes based on concepts of logic and mathematics. Every problem had an explanation that could be explained based on principles and theorems no matter how complex. Quite contrary to life, Remus thought dryly.

"How much harm do you think I might cause if I asked him questions about his uncle?" Remus worried.

Dumbledore banished the tea service with a flick of his wand. "Perhaps no more harm than Christian has caused himself by concealing his emotions all these years."

"If you think it wise that I don´t speak with him..."

"I cannot make that decision for you, Remus, or for Christian. Christian must choose to speak with you on his own terms. To force him to confide in you, that I cannot do." Dumbledore´s eyes were weary.

Remus knew Dumbledore spoke the truth. Christian would be of no help if he were forced to cooperate.

"I can, however, arrange for Mr. Huber to meet with us tomorrow morning," Dumbledore continued.

"Thank you," Remus said humbly.

A muffled thump on the other side of the door broke the silence.

Raising his eyebrows, Dumbledore opened the door, pale blue eyes twinkling down at the comical sight. Sirius was squatting on the floor, one arm gripping Elizabeth's tummy and the other reaching out to grab hold of the kitten. Neither baby seemed at all interested in cooperating. Elizabeth's bonnet hung haphazardly by its strings, and her robes and dress had managed to work their way up around her armpits. The tiny kitten mewled pitifully as Sirius struggled to get a firm grip on the back of its neck.

"Come here! Bloody kitten... Minerva´s going to hear from me... bollocks... Gotcha now! Where do you think you´re off to? Hmm?" Sirius raised the little bundle of fluff to his face and rubbed his cheek against the furry softness. "Unless you want Padfoot to come out and play, let´s try to listen, shall we?"

Triumphant, Sirius stood and blew back locks of hair tumbling across his forehead. "Albus, it's wonderful to see you."

If Dumbledore thought it odd that Sirius was almost bested by a kitten and a wee sized child he kept those thoughts to himself. He simply opened the door further and welcomed the party inside.

Sirius entered the room and smiled at Remus. Remus´ eyes widened slightly at Elizabeth´s new toy but said nothing.

"Now... who do we have here?" Dumbledore appraised Elizabeth. He was encouraged by her bright eyes, rosy cheeks, and small mouth that was in the process of forming a smile at the sight of Remus. He nodded his approval. He had no reservations whatsoever about Elizabeth´s well-being in the hands of these two men.

Remus placed a soft kiss on Elizabeth´s hair. "Hello, Lizzie." His hand caressed her cheek, and she turned and nuzzled his forearm. He placed a chaste kiss on Sirius´ smooth cheek, grinning at Sirius´ pout.

"I see she´s quite taken with both of you. She clearly has been blessed with the fortunate gift of good taste." Dumbledore smiled widely. "Elizabeth Lupin-Black. It´s a good strong name. One she won´t be ashamed of." He held out his arms. "May I? I confess to having a soft spot for babies."

Sirius couldn´t stop grinning. Clearly Dumbledore had heard of Eustace. He placed Elizabeth in his arms.

The Headmaster rocked her with seasoned expertise, and Remus realized guiltily that he had never bothered to find out if Dumbledore had a family of his own. "Ah... I´ve forgotten the simple joy in holding something so small."

Remus glanced hesitantly at the kitten in Sirius´ arms. "Sirius?"

Sirius tore his eyes from his daughter. Dumbledore´s head was bent as he whispered words in a foreign tongue. Elizabeth watched him in rapt fascination.

Closing the small space between them, Sirius pressed himself against Remus´ side. "Yeah, Moony?"

"The kitten? Where did you find it?"

"It´s a gift from Minerva."

Remus was startled. "But surely Minerva remembers the uh--er dislike animals have for me?"

Sirius balanced the small cat in the palm of his hand and held it out for Remus to examine. "She transformed him from a piece of granite. It´s okay, he´ll never age. Therefore he´ll never learn to fear you. Just Padfoot." He barked mischievously, and the kitten mewled in protest. Remus nodded quickly, gratitude overcoming him.

Dumbledore finished his quiet words and turned towards the two men. "Shall we?"

He carefully placed Elizabeth on a raised stone pillar he had conjured into the center of the room. The smooth marble surface was speckled with purples and blues, and a quick sticking spell was executed so the baby couldn´t tumble from her perch.

Elizabeth blinked curious eyes at the three men standing about her. Sirius carefully removed her bonnet and robes and stepped back.

Dumbledore placed a withered red rose in her lap. He, too, moved back and raised a barrier around the child. The three men watched with bated breath as several uneventful minutes passed. Remus and Sirius exchanged surprised glances as Elizabeth made no move to put the flower in her mouth. To their left, Dumbledore waited patiently.

Long minutes later, a transformation began to take place.

"Ah..." Dumbledore whispered. "I had hoped for this."

A swirling mist of sparkling dust rose from the flower. Before their very eyes the red-brown petals slowly turned a deep violet. One by one, the petals broke away from the stem and floated upwards, dissolving into gold dust. The little girl continued to hold the stem in a tight fist.

Slowly the golden dust spiraled downwards and realigned itself into the form of the original petals. Each one molded back to the stem, changing from gold to violet to red.

"What´s happening?" Sirius whispered his eyes wide with surprise.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Have you ever noticed whether Elizabeth has the ability to move items at will?"

"She can imitate wind and manipulate wave patterns in her bath," Remus whispered, transfixed.

Sirius was nervous. He had no idea what just happened, and despite the beauty of what he just saw, he felt deep currents of apprehension. How was it possible for his six-month old daughter to do that? He nudged Remus, who brushed him aside impatiently.

"Shush, Padfoot," he whispered. "Just watch. It´s a form of ancient magic. Albus was explaining it to me last night..."

Ancient magic or not, Sirius was still nervous.

"Look, Remus and Sirius... levitation..." Dumbledore drank in the vision before him.

Elizabeth´s hands had released the flower. The bloom slowly spiraled its way in front of her, spinning at a measured pace. Her eyes followed the movement, her little lips puckered in concentration. Slowly the flower settled in her lap, the petals restored to their original brilliancy. Dumbledore nodded and removed the barrier.

Sirius rushed forward and scooped up his daughter. He pressed her cool cheek against his own flushed face and laughed grumpily when she pushed at him. "Oh, Lizzie, let Daddy hold you for a minute... he needs this..."

Remus patted Sirius on the back. "Scared, Padfoot?" he teased.

Sirius growled. His daughter resumed sucking on his collar. He worked his finger between the fabric and her mouth and offered his thumb to her.

"Is your finger clean?" Remus frowned.

Dumbledore laughed. He came forward and tapped Elizabeth on her head with his wand. She tilted her head backwards and arched against Sirius´ arm. Blue eyes met with violet, and they both stared for long moments. "You have a very special daughter. I´ve only read about children like her."

"Well, it´s no wonder she scared her mother--just imagine a muggle having to deal with levitating regenerating objects!" Sirius laughed sharply. Remus pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"You were scared, too, Sirius," he reminded him gently.

"Damn right I was, Remus! Crikey, just look at what she can do! She´s only a baby." His voice was gruff with emotion. Sirius certainly had no intention of crying, but for some disconcerting reason, he was unable to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"She has unique talents, I´ll give you that. Albus," Remus interrupted the staring contest. "What does this mean for Elizabeth as she grows up? How does she do this?"

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. "I believe Elizabeth has the ability to alter physical matter through emphatic measures. She could feel the rose dying and consequently was able to alter its physical state. As for the water... she was able to sense its currents and thus alter the flow."

"Is she a healer?" asked Remus.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Healers cannot alter matter in the way she is able to. People like Elizabeth have a deep connection with humans, plants, animals, water--anything with a spiritual mass. It´s a precious gift--but one that must be reigned in tightly and taught to be controlled. Elizabeth becomes part of a cycle with each object she touches, and thusly she can use her powers to wield terrible things."

Sirius stared at the baby in his arms. He blinked one, twice, then licked his lips anxiously. Elizabeth smiled up at him and struggled to get down. Placing her gently on the floor, he straightened and glanced at Remus. Remus was staring at Dumbledore as if the Headmaster had grown two heads.

"Our daughter?" Remus managed. He watched as Elizabeth took off her shoes.

Sirius found his voice. "How do we teach her if we don´t even understand what she is?"

"I´ll give you the books I read in preparation for today. I believe you´ll just have to take it one step at a time." Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at the two men. "She´s still small so you needn´t worry about her setting fire to your house."

Sirius blanched. Thoughts of the Daddy´s Guide to Tantrums ran through his head. "Elizabeth can control fire?"

Low laughter rang through the room. Elizabeth looked up in surprise and waved her bare feet in the air. Dumbledore thumped Sirius on the shoulder. "Come, don´t think about that. Chances are she´ll cause a flood before a fire." He walked to the table and adjusted his robe comfortably. "Sirius, Remus, please... come sit. If you want to speak with Mary and Bridget, Remus, we need to formulate a plan to locate them."

**********

Darkness crept stealthily across the moor, covering the barren landscape with dark shadows. Long haunting wails pierced through cracks in the thick stone walls. Inside the nursery, Cecilia continued to fold freshly laundered nappies, her attuned senses able to distinguish between the wind and an infant´s cry. Her hands methodically completed her task. Shake. Fold. Flip. Fold. Stack. Over and over.

She no longer hummed as she worked.

At precisely half past six, Genevieve entered the room, lighted the lamps and drew the curtains. As she watched Cecilia work, she decided to speak to her friend that evening to ferret out what was troubling her.

The rattling of metal hooks against the curtain rods woke baby Hugh, his angry cries quickly disturbing the silence of the room. He waved small fists in the air and shrieked when neither girl moved.

Genevieve caught the slight stiffening of Cecilia´s back. Tucking away her wand, she walked briskly to the crib and picked up Hugh. "Hush now..." She rocked him gently and brushed away his tears with the pad of her thumb. "What is it, Hugh?" she crooned as he continued to wail. "What´s wrong? You can´t be hungry..."

When the baby showed no sign of calming, Genevieve turned to Cecilia in concern. "Cecilia, there something wrong with--Cecilia?" She glanced quickly about the room. Frowning, she walked to the door and noticed with a start that it was slightly ajar. She peered into the hall. Cecilia was nowhere in sight.

**********

Cecilia dashed down the hall, dodging into the shadows at the slightest sound. Her very nerves were raw. Ever since she had agreed to this assignment she was a mess. A complete and utter mess. She glanced down the empty corridor to her left and pressed up against the wall as the familiar sound of Margaret´s footsteps clicked on the cold tile. She peeked carefully and sighed with relief at the sight of her long black cloak. Margaret was finally leaving for the evening.

Cecilia waited a few extra minutes to be certain Margaret had left the premise. For the past month, Margaret had begun to disappear every Wednesday leaving no notice as to her whereabouts. The general atmosphere of the IWPA relaxed noticeably during these absences, and after figuring out Margaret´s schedule, Cecilia decided now was as good of a time as ever to make a sojourn to her office. After running a few extra meters, she skidded to a full stop as a faint swishing sound grew louder. While her heart pounded frantically, she managed to breathe in a sigh of relief as she watched Matthews turn the corner, his back to her as he slowly ran a mop along the floor. At this precise moment, she wished fervently that she could strangle Charlie Weasley for convincing her to stay at the IWPA and act as their eyes and ears.

Matthews´ mop flopped with a splash. His long, muscular arms effortlessly moved the wooden handle, his strokes smooth and precise. She stared as his long angular fingers deftly twisted away the excess water and wondered what else he might twist with equal ease. His bristled gray hair stood up on end, and his slightly stooped back belied his hidden strength. Cecilia wasn´t afraid of him, per se, but his brute power made her apprehensive should he catch her outside Margaret´s office.

A thundering clanging echoed through the hall that nearly threw her to her knees. Low cursing could be heard as Matthews bent down to retrieve the fallen mop. Straightening, he pushed the bucket down the hall, the wheels squeaking over the smooth tile.

Her chest heaved as if she had run laps around the building. Pressing forward, she crept to the door. She pulled out a wrinkled list of disarming charms Remus had kindly written down for her. Might as well start with the first one, she thought in nervous apprehension.

"Alohomora," she whispered. Nothing happened, but as she hadn´t really expected the door to fly open on the first try she wasn´t disheartened.

"Dissendium." The door didn´t budge an inch.

After executing several more unsuccessful unlocking spells, Cecilia nearly stamped her foot in frustration. Her hands clenched as thoughts of how good it would feel to strangle Charlie Weasley rushed through her mind. Frowning, she scrolled down to the last word on the list. "This better work..." she mumbled. Lifting her wand, she traced the shape of the door before pointing directly at the knob. "Patesco."

A shimmering golden band of light outlined the door. Thanking Remus profusely, she threw a quick precautionary glance over her shoulder. The corridor was empty, and for once she thanked the stars that Margaret insisted the blinds be closed at all times. Carefully she pushed open the door and crept into the empty office. Heavy drapes covered the windows, and the fireplace lay empty and cold. The faint light from the end of her wand illuminated the immediate area around her and created long, eerie shadows over the floor. Creeping over to Margaret´s desk, she quickly scanned the surface not quite certain what she was looking for.

Shivering, she flipped aside various ledgers and IWPA forms. "Fancy a trip into Margaret´s office, Cecilia?" she said imitating Charlie´s voice.

A sharp hoot from the corner jarred the silence, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. Margaret´s owl followed her movements with beady yellow eyes that glowed in the dark. Her spine took on a life of its own as icy chills danced up and down. "Bloody bird," she whispered angrily. She desperately hoped he wasn´t in cohorts with his mistress. Leaning forward, she began pulling on desk drawers. Smiling smugly, she gained easy access, as Margaret clearly didn´t feel the need to place locking charms on her desk.

The first drawer slid open soundlessly. Cecilia scanned the contents and ran her hand along the edging. Wizards and witches were notorious for implementing concealing charms, and she didn´t put it aside Margaret to resort to a bit of trickery. Two unsuccessful hours later, she tried to open the slender drawer at the top of the desk used primarily to hold quills and blotters.

"Bollocks," she bit out in frustration when the drawer refused to budge. A simple Alohomora unlocked the latch. "At least something works the first time..." Frowning, she peered closer, rotating her wand to search the corners. Speechless, she collapsed into the chair. Running her hand experimentally under the desk where her knees should go, she came across an invisible barrier that extended several inches below the supposed drawer bottom. She stared, her hands twitching nervously. Surely it couldn´t be, she breathed in astonishment.

She had found Margaret´s Pensieve.

**********

In another part of England, things were progressing at decidedly different rate. Hermione crawled out from under her desk and blew back a loose strand of hair. "I can´t find it, Ron. I´m telling you. It was here last night." She stood and yanked open each drawer for the hundredth time. "I put it in this one--and I know I locked my desk."

Ron flipped through a pile of papers on her couch. Hermione looked at him crossly. "Be careful with those, will you?"

Shooting her an exasperated look brought on by the lateness of the hour, Ron carefully scanned the shelves. "Right. Who besides Morgan has access to your office when you´re out?"

The top of the desk lay cluttered with a mix of parchment rolls, books, quills, and writing tablets. Her elbow knocked over an open pot of ink. "That´s it," she snapped as the black mess pooled out in glossy rivulets. "I don´t allow people to enter here without permission."

"And did you check to make sure there wasn´t an unlocking charm on the door?"

"Do you take me for a mad idiot, Ron? Of course I checked. I checked ten times already! And yes, I made sure the alarm system hadn´t been tampered with."

"Hermione, then I don´t see how the book could have disappeared. Unless someone apparated--"

"Ron. People can´t apparate into this wing of the Ministry. You know that."

"Then explain to me using your ever superior logic how the book disappeared from your office."

"Sod off, Ron," she muttered under her breath.

Ron´s cheeks blazed as red as his hair. Sod off? His eyes narrowed as anger pooled inside. "Bloody hell, Hermione. Do you have to take everything so personally?" He stomped to the doorway, his robes swishing angrily. "Ollivander´s expecting me back. We´re to inventory the stock tonight. Calm down, will you? Crikey, you´re driving me mad. I´ve only been trying to help."

"Well, you haven´t been very logical about it, have you?" Hermione snorted. "You aren´t listening to me. I´ve told you people can´t apparate here--and there´s no way someone came in here without my knowing!"

"Yeah, I know. You´ve only been yelling this for the past hour. But logic doesn´t seem to play a role in this mystery." Ron felt his anger ebb away at the frantic look on his wife´s face. He approached Hermione hesitantly. "Hermione--" he began slowly.

She patted his forearm awkwardly. "I know, Ron... I know. But this book--it may be the key to helping Remus, and I hate the thought that people want to kill him," she spat angrily, brushing away an errant tear impatiently.

"Has Remus even received official word from Lancaster or Macnair?"

Hermione shook her head. "You know he hasn´t. Those bastards don´t work that way. Percy said they just spring their attack by delivering the summons."

Ron pulled his wife into his arms and squeezed her against his tall frame. He was somewhat shocked at her language but understood certain situations necessitated it. Hermione burrowed her face into the softness of his robes.

"What are you doing?" she mumbled after a minute.

"Can´t a man kiss his wife?" he asked in amusement as he nudged her chin up.

"Oh--oh, well... I guess..."

"Hermione?" he whispered against her lips.

"What?"

"Can you please shut up for a moment?" Hermione blushed to the tips of her hair as Ron kissed her lovingly with the patience of a much-tried man.

Long moments later, Hermione sat next to her husband on the couch, her head tucked under his chin. Ron´s long arms were wrapped securely about her slight frame.

"Explain to me why this book is so important."

Sighing, Hermione stared morosely into the fire. "It´s not really a book. It´s the court transcripts from the Bristol werewolf´s hearing. Morgan found it for me. And no one knows I have it, Ron." She glanced cautiously up at him as if gauging his reaction to her next words.

"Have you read it?" he asked evenly.

"I didn´t have a chance to yet. But if Lancaster or Macnair discover I have it--"

Ron drew back in disbelief. What in God´s name could his wife be thinking to allow herself to become a possible target in this whole mess? He suddenly wanted to shake some sense into her.

Hermione frowned at Ron´s dark look, her hair tumbling about her shoulders as he shook her. "This is Remus we´re discussing, Ron. Remus´ very life depends on his friends, and in the end, I am afraid his friends are all that will stand between him and a warrant for his death."

"Hermione, this is bloody axe-wielding Macnair you´re talking about. You of all people know what he´s capable of--and not just to the people with the death warrant over their heads! He´s a ruthless son-of-a-bitch. Jesus, Hermione, do you never stop to think?"

She jerked back from him as if he had slapped her. "You wouldn´t be saying this if we were talking about Harry."

"This situation is different, Hermione! Harry´s not a werewolf."

The single word hung heavily in the room, bringing back memories of another time Ron had yelled out the word "werewolf."

"Sirius and Remus will hardly allow anything to happen to any of us. Besides, the only person I´m worried about is Remus," she told him with unusual quietness. "None of that matters to me. Nor should it matter to you."

Ron climbed to his feet and moved to the door. "Ollivander will be wondering where I am." He wasn´t ready to apologize for something he had yet to come to terms with.

Hermione gave him a closed look. She watched as he left and slowly brought a finger to her lips. Sighing, she began to pace. As she took another turn about the room, the corner of her eye caught sight of a flash of red fabric caught in the top drawer. Rushing forward, she yanked it out. Ministry Elves... and suddenly she remembered yesterday´s tea.

**********

Remus crawled tiredly into the large four-poster bed and plumped the pillows to his satisfaction. The offer from Dumbledore for a dreamless sleep potion was tempting, and yet something niggling in the back of his mind kept him from accepting it. Moments of clear lucidity were to be preserved at all costs, and dreamless sleep potions were known to sometimes alter the mind. His eyes twitched as they prickled with exhaustion, and he yawned loudly.

As he fell back into the bed and moved to pull the covers up over his chest, he reflected upon how very generous Dumbledore was to house them in the comfortable staff corridors. The smooth velvet hangings reminiscent of his school days were pulled back with the traditional gold cording and even the bedspreads were as he remembered. He noticed that he had tossed his dressing gown over the end of the bed and smiled at how easily old habits came back in the proper environment. The very way the moonlight splashed through the curtainless window evoked sentiments of yesteryear, and as he pressed his face into the silk sheets Elizabeth´s little kitten crawled its way up the blankets to nuzzle under his neck.

Placing the empty baby bottle aside, Sirius tucked a sleeping Elizabeth in the cradle Minerva had transfigured for them. He had become accustomed to not asking questions when it came to uncovering current objects previous states. He had yet to forget the one time she had transfigured a temporary Quaffle from a rather large pile of Griffin dung so the match could continue.

Their daughter´s rosy cheeks were bright against the white mattress, and she made small suckling sounds in her sleep. He tucked the plaid blanket securely under her chin. As he watched her slumber, his mind drifted back to the incident in Dumbledore´s office.

"Moony," he called softly.

"Hmm?" Remus muttered sleepily, his head buried in a mound of pillows.

Sirius sat on the edge to the bed and poked his mate. "Wake up, Moony. I want to talk."

Remus rolled over with a groan, one slender arm flopping over his eyes. "Could you lower the fire, Siri?"

With a quick flick of his wand, the merry flames obeyed his order. Smiling, he nuzzled the soft spot between the other man´s shoulder and neck dislodging the sleeping kitten. He inhaled the familiar scent deeply. "Mmm... Moony... what do you think of our daughter now?"

Soft lashes brushed his cheeks as Remus closed his eyes. He felt incredibly drained of energy and not in the mood to discuss his daughter´s condition again. "Siri," he moaned, "Can´t this wait?"

"Just answer the question--then I´ll let you sleep."

Remus sighed. What do I think of Elizabeth? He asked himself. "I love her," he said simply.

"But what she is able to do..."

"Sirius, she´s gifted. We knew that. Are you still afraid?" He raised himself up on an elbow and peered closely at his mate. Sirius´ eyes were downcast, his fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Not scared exactly. Just apprehensive. I don´t think the Daddy´s Guide to Tantrums is going to be very affective."

Remus laughed tiredly. "I like watching you fret for a change."

"Well, don´t get used to it," Sirius groused. "That´s your specialty."

"Paddy, if it´s any consolation to you, I happen to be very adept at fire-extinguishing charms," he teased, planting a kiss on his lover´s nose.

Sirius´ eyes brightened. "Just think what she´s going to be able to do when she´s here! Ah... the new Marauder strikes at last!"

Striking him on the head with a pillow, Remus flopped back down and pulled the kitten onto his chest. He yawned loudly and pointedly in Sirius´ direction. The last clear thought that ran through his mind was, bloody hell, I think I´m falling asleep...

"All right," Sirius chuckled. "I get the point. Go to sleep, Moony. Get your bloody beauty sleep." His words fell on deaf ears as a loud snore broke free. He wrapped his arms around his sleeping mate and pressed his lips to his forehead. "´Night, Moony. I love you."