Elemental Alchemy

Chapter Seven

11:45 pm - Dumbledore's Office - Hogwarts

After Mr. Filch arrived to take care of Professor Vector's remains, "Oh, good lady. Ever so strict with the wretched students. Sniff. May she rest her immortal soul...," Dumbledore and Robert returned to Dumbledore's office. They spent the next ten minutes debating, throwing ideas back and forth about how to open the cryptex and hopefully, stop the killings.

The clue said that Gryffindor would be next to suffer. Even in his short time at Hogwarts, Robert had taken a keen affinity to this particular house.

Perhaps it was the symbolism, the color of his own robe lining, or the trio he met on the train. Perhaps it was the dedication of the Gryffindor man sitting at the desk in front of him. It was bad enough that there were two other houses hurt by this tragedy. Robert did not think he could bear to see the Gryffindors so afflicted.

Robert continued to pace the office in front of Dumbledore's desk. "There must be something." Robert looked at his watch. Time was flying at incredible speeds now...and it was not cooperating with them at all. "11:55. Unless we solve this now, we're out of time."

Just as it happened an hour prior, Dumbledore and Robert were stunned by a loud bellow from just outside the door. "Murder! Murder most foul!" It was Paolo this time.

Paolo wrenched open the door. He, like Professor McGonagall, was panting and sweating. "Gryffindor... Professor Dumbledore, there's been another murder...but now the body's gone! We've started to search the castle, but nothing...no sign of him!"

Robert's biggest fear had just come true. Another murder, another body, another death he could have prevented.

Just as one hour before, Paolo led Professor Dumbledore and Robert to the hallway in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. He pointed. "There. There it is."

It? Uh oh. This can't be good. The place where Paolo pointed was a jumbled mess. Each of the items in the pile was covered with blood. There was a red and yellow scarf, a bloodstained, tattered and patched robe, a Gryffindor robe patch, and a briefcase that read, "Professor R.J. Lupin."

"Lupin," said Dumbledore, "My God, no..." He fell to his knees and knelt beside the briefcase, his eyes traveling all over the evidence. Robert saw Dumbledore freeze, staring in one spot, his eyes widening in horror. "Robert, look here." He pointed.

Robert walked over and looked. On the floor was a large, shining and fresh pool of blood. But it was no ordinarily pool of blood. This was a pool of blood in the shape of a heart. Yes, thought Robert, I was right...with Gryffindor, the murderer went for the heart. The furnace of the body...the fire sign. "There's no animal here."

"That," Professor Dumbledore said, "is because the Gryffindor symbol is much larger than a raven or a badger. It would seemingly be impossible to drag a dead lion through the halls of Hogwarts."

Lion, thought Robert. That makes sense. It goes hand in hand with the symbology of the color red and the fire sign. Family ties, strength, courage, resolve, energy, ferocity. The lion.

There was a long pause. Paolo was the first to speak. "Robert, its time to get you out of here. That poem has certainly lived up to its threats thus far."

"But what about the dementors or whatever those things were that Harry was talking about?"

"It is now midnight, Robert, You-Know-Who is coming, and I for one do not want him to live up to his threat to bring a dementor in to perform the kiss on you...it is horrible. It is not a means to kill you, dementors suck out your soul and leave you alive, but an empty shell."

Suck out your soul -- Robert did not like the sound of that. "Where do I go?"

"Professor Dumbledore," said Paolo. "I know where to take him...the place where Lupin used to go. Let me take him there, Dumbledore, it is safe there."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "It is now up to me to protect the school, and up to you, Paolo, to protect Robert. But he must solve that cryptex. It is still vital, and I expect you will let me know when he does."

Paolo nodded. "Come, Robert." Robert followed Paolo down the hallway, and down the main stairs. They went past Hagrid and Mr. Filch and exited through the front oak doors, hearing them close solidly behind them. "This way."

Paolo led Robert a short distance away from the castle. Robert was silent throughout the walk, his mind on the cryptex and on the possibility of his own impending death. "Robert, you will be safe in this place," Paolo said.

They were standing before a huge, grayed willow tree with immense, elephant-leg main branches, ending in huge knarled knots. Robert got the idea that the tree somehow sensed their presence - and did not like it one bit. The great branches began swaying and moving voluntarily, as there was no wind to move them. The closer they came, the more violent and deliberate the tree's movements became.

"Here? With this tree? Safe? Its moving by itself, Paolo! I don't think so." Robert began to tremble with renewed fear. "What the hell is that?"

"That is the Whomping Willow. It was planted here years ago, in part to protect the castle and in part to protect the students. It's a real fixture around here. Treat it with respect, and it'll treat you with - er - respect."

"What am I supposed to do, bow to it?" Robert snapped.

"No," Paolo replied, ignoring the brewing sarcasm. "you're going inside the tree - well, under it. Watch and learn." Paolo picked up a branch and poked it at a small knot at the base of the tree's gargantuan trunk. Immediately, the tree stopped moving and stood rock still. "Come with me."

Paolo led Robert to a small, rounded bit of root at the tree base. Paolo knelt down and pushed the top of the root aside, revealing a small opening. "Go on in there," he pointed. "At the base of the opening is a door. Go on inside. It's the passage to a secret place called the Shrieking Shack."

"The Shrieking ..." Forget the weird name, Robert was paying more attention to the frighteningly miniscule opening -- his ingrained claustrophobia kicking in again at full strength. Robert peered down into the dark shaft, recalling a frightening incident when, as a child, he fell hundreds of feet into an abandoned well and had to tread water for five hours before finally being rescued.

"Yes, Robert, ignore the name. It's for local color only. It's perfectly safe. And yes, Robert, the hole is big enough. You won't get stuck, and there's no water to tread at the bottom." Robert looked unsure. Paolo grinned sympathetically. "Trust me, amico."

I can do this. Robert stirred up what was left of his courage. I can do this. No fear. No fear. No fear. It's not a well. It will lead to an open room. "Okay, what do I do when I get in there."

"Stay in there. Work on the cryptex - get the thing open and get the clue inside. If you open it, knock on the door three times. That will send a signal to Dumbledore's office and I will come and get you immediately - literally, immediately. Make sure you close the passage door, and any other doors, behind you." Robert gave him another wary look. "Robert! Believe me, you will be safest in here. We don't want you exposed when You-Know-Who gets here."

Robert nodded absently. He crouched down, mustered up his resolve again, and hung his legs in the shaft opening. No fear, no fear, no fear... Paolo gave his shoulders a slight push, and Robert went careening down the stone slide, feeling the slick, slimy walls against his open palms. Memories of falling into the abandoned well careened just as quickly through his now panicked mind.

As soon as it began, however, the ride ended. This time, much to Robert's relief, it did not end with a cold, wet splash. Instead, Robert felt his feet touch a soft, cushiony, spring-supported surface. A mattress? The room around him was pitch black with the exception of a chink of light at the far side.

The room smelled strongly of musty fabric, and damp earth. The air was equally as damp. Robert stood and ran his hands over the stone walls. They, like the walls of the entrance slide, seemed to be lined with a wet, spongy moss or lichen. Robert walked toward the light, entered the room, and, as Paolo instructed, shut the door behind him.

The shack around Robert looked as haunted as the locals probably thought it was. It reminded him of a fun house he had gone through on a dare at the end of a particularly disastrous date with a particularly dangerous woman ten years his junior. But this time, the dust was not sprinkled there purposefully, the smells were not pumped in, and the cobwebs were not made of spun fabric, or the spiders plastic. The grim features in this haunted house were real.

The rooms and hallways were dimly lit with what looked like blue-flamed torches. The wallpaper was peeling away in great sheets, and was covered by a blue-gray soot. Spider webs in every corner shone in the little moonlight that streamed in from the dingy windows. Robert looked down. The wainscotting was stained with damp and what appeared to be a black, slimy mold. Not a healthy place. Should be condemned, or at least fumigated.

Robert headed up the stairs. As he walked, he saw footprints in the dust. Strange footprints, these. Two sets. One, a pair of shoes, the other looked like that of an animal, like a dog or a lion. Whoever lives here must have a pet, or something. Great, Robert sighed. Now I'm going to be dog-sitting.

As Robert reached the top landing, he heard a voice. Mumbling. Incoherent. "Hello?" The voice was coming from what looked like be former master bedroom. "Hello, is anyone in here?" The mumbling now combined with loud, raspy breaths. "Hello?"

Robert pushed the door open. The room was dark save for a small sliver of moonlight coming in through a slime-covered open window. As Robert entered the room, he heard the distinct sound of chains rattling. He took a step further inside.

Woosh! Crash! The door behind him shut with a whistle and a loud slam. Robert jumped what felt like a mile, clutching at his heart. I'm going to have that coronary yet, he thought. Robert turned, clasped his hand over the doorknob, and turned. The knob would not budge. "What the hell!" He tried again. Still, the door remained firmly locked. "Oh, no..."

The breathing from the corner of the room became even more jagged, full of rage, animalistic. The chains rattled harder, as if whatever was attached to them was straining and pulling. Robert even thought he heard the distinct 'creak' of a chain beginning to pull away from its mooring.

"Uh, hello? Who's there?"

The only response was a deep, bloodthirsty, threatening growl.

Robert's adrenaline kicked in full power, and his mind went into a complete panic spin. What the hell is that thing and why am I locked up with it? After the initial adrenaline rush came the innate flight or fight reflex. Neither flight nor flight, however, was an option. "Oh, my God. I'm dead. I am completely dead."

There was a window to Robert's immediate right where the moon's rays peeked in through the closed curtains. Although Robert did not really want to, he had to see exactly what he was facing - even though the cryptex in his hand was his only weapon. He inched, carefully, over to the window, and threw open the curtains.

All Robert could do was plaster himself against the wall in sudden and abject fear. The cryptex was still clutched in his hand. He felt it start to slip as the sweat accumulated commensurate with his fear and panic.

"My God! My God! What....what..." Robert's eyes darted around the room, his terror and dread increasing exponentially, along with the amount of sweat now pooling around his brow and his turtle neck collar.

In sheer desperation, Robert turned and tried to throw open the window sash. No good. It was painted shut. He fumbled with the lock. No good. He patted his hands against the window glass, it seemed normal enough. What now? Break it. Break the glass. But, how?

Robert again looked around the room, searching for a blunt instrument - something, anything! Then, his eyes fell upon the cryptex in his hand. Damn this thing, he thought. I need to get out of here. He pummeled the glass with the puzzle, trying desperately to shatter the window. The cryptex merely bounced off, over and over and over, with not so much as a crack in the window. With the last whack, the cryptex rebounded, smacking Robert full on the nose.

Robert grunted and hunched over in pain, covering his offended nose with his hands. "Oh, ow!" Robert tasted blood. "Crap! I've gotta get out of here, but how!" He looked again at the thing in the corner. The beast was now seething, saliva forming in great, frothy-white drips at the corners of its mouth. "Blood....its smells blood. Just great." He started inching back toward the door, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

The thing before him was immense. In Robert's panic stricken estimation, the thing was a combination of a wolf, a dog, and...something. It had a short, stubbly coating of mangy gray fur -- rounded, haunting yellow eyes, triangular ears, and fangs - oh God, those fangs -- huge and bloody, dripping with saliva. This thing, whatever it was, was hungry - deadly hungry. Robert was in no mood to become its next meal. The thing ran forward and pulled taut on its chains again, missing Robert with its mammoth front claws by mere inches.

Robert tried the door again. Pulling, yanking, pounding, shoving, turning, kicking, yelling, cursing, all to no avail. Then he remembered what Paolo had told him.

Knock three times.

Knock, knock, knock. Paolo said he'd come immediately. Knock, knock, knock. He tried again, and again, and again. No Paolo. "Immediately, Paolo, immediately! Come on, Paolo!" Robert turned and looked at the beast again. His eyes quickly flashed over it, and his gaze landed on the floor beneath. What he saw increased his horror. Robert's heart gave a sickening jolt, and his stomach flip-flopped.

On the floor, next to the chain mooring, was a large hourglass. The glass was demarcated by minutes, from two hours to one minute - a wizarding timer. From what Robert could see of the glass contents, there was only about three minutes left. The hourglass, in turn, was attached to the chain. If the hourglass were to empty and turn, it appeared, the chain would be released. "I'm in big, big trouble."

In a moment of fear-induced insanity, Robert wished desperately that he could just click his heels together and say "there's no place like home, there's no place like home" and get the hell out of Oz.

Robert turned and knocked again - three times. Still, no sign of Paolo. "Where is he?"

"All that knocking will get you nowhere, Professor Langdon, and it is rather irritating." Robert froze, his eyes growing large. The voice was crystal clear, human, and extremely intelligent.

Robert wheeled around. "Who said that?"

"I did." The voice came from the corner, the same place as the creature. "Me, over here."

"Who are you?"

"In this form, I'm a werewolf. In my human form, I am Professor R.J. Lupin, one of the former teachers from Hogwarts."

"Lupin? I thought you were dead. The Gryffindor death..."

"A clever ploy by the one who murdered the others, knocked me out, and brought me here."

"Who did that?"

"Sadly, I don't know. But it is a full-moon tonight, and, on nights such as this, if I don't get my wolfsbane draught, I, unfortunately, become very dangerous."

"But, how...how can you be talking to me?"

"Because I actually did take my wolfsbane tonight...but it's been tampered with," said Lupin, his breath now becoming ragged, "weakened, diluted. It is supposed to numb my human senses and memories, and tame the beast, leaving me essentially stupid and harmless." Lupin growled involuntarily.

"However," Lupin continued. "neither has happened. It has been strange. I've never been coherent, never had my wits about me as the wolf before. However, this state of sentience has fluctuated greatly all night. In fact, I feel I will be losing myself yet again very shortly, Professor Langdon."

Robert actually saw Lupin - saw the man -- within the beast's feral yellow eyes. "If you don't get out of here by the time this hourglass empties, I fear that I will likely kill you. I don't want to, but if I am not in my right mind, I will."

"So then, Lupin, we'll just have to keep you in your right mind, then."

"I...believe..." Lupin struggled to speak, producing more ragged breaths, the words turning into growls, "that...may...prove... im...im....impossible." The sentence ended with a sickening, loud gurgle. "You must...you must leave, NOW!" Two minutes.

"I can't!" Robert shouted, "the door locked behind me and I can't break the glass! I'm stuck in here with you! So, stay with me, Lupin! Listen to my voice! What's your first name?"

More ragged breaths. Lupin's chest was heaving now. "Re...Remus!"

Appropriate name for a werewolf - quite fitting. "Okay, Remus. Call me Robert. Stay with me now....maybe if you think about something....help me with this cryptex here! I need to open it. Whatever is in it may just save the school and everyone in it. There's a poem clue. Let me read it to you. Just keep focused on it."

"Not...sure...if I can!"

"Try! Focus! Fight!" Robert quickly explained the previous cryptex, and its solution. He then read the new poem aloud to Remus.

Brilliant of you to get this far.

How simple, that five-pointed-star

A Muggle must be in your midst

Know this then, no lie

That Muggle shall die

With a single and passionate kiss.

Unless of course, he

Is more clever than me

And can open this puzzle anew

For I come in two hours

In fearsome great power

For the prophecy shall ne'er come true.

Keep vigilance! The prior clue

Shrewdly unraveled by you

Each hour is what is in store

For the lifeless Ravenclaw,

That mangled body you saw

Shall be joined by Hufflepuff and Gryffindor

"Dumbledore and I have talked about it, and we think it has to do with what You-Know-Who knows about the prophecy. But that didn't work. We need another approach, another angle."

"Its....it is so....obvious, Robert. The...the houses." Remus breathed, still fighting. "Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor...Slytherin. The clue... must be in... the houses."

Robert could sense Remus was teetering on the edge of sanity. As Robert tried again to engage his brain, to work out the clues, he heard a howling in the distance. Remus, involuntarily, answered with a loud, ear-splitting wail.

Robert ducked, covering his hears. Maybe he's right! The clues. We've been misled again! They're not in the prophecy, the clues are in the murders! The symbols left there by the bodies! The raven, the badger, the lion....blue, yellow, red.

"Air, earth, fire....water! That's it! Remus, you're a genius!"

Remus answered only with a muffled growl. He was gone again, his mind replaced by that of the creature. One minute remained on the timer.

Robert fumbled with the cryptex. There were four bands, four sets of symbols. Robert held the cryptex under a chink of moonlight, and lined up the symbols, top to bottom. Air...earth...fire...water.

Thankfully, the cryptex popped open. Robert glanced at the hourglass. Thirty seconds.

With a sinking feeling of dread mixed with disappointment, Robert pulled out the contents and held it up under the moonlight. Inside the cryptex was a vial of greenish blue liquid, somewhat translucent. It gave off an eerie glow.

Lupin growled again, as if fighting to regain consciousness. "That's wolfs....wolfsbane! Give it to me...growl...give it to me... growl, breath... NOW!" Lupin lunged forward and swiped his paw at Robert, the nails almost contacting Robert's chest.

"How?" asked Robert, "You'll take a chunk out of me if I get anywhere near you!"

"Roll it here. Quickly!" Ten seconds.

Robert complied. The vial rolled toward Lupin. It then rolled down a broken piece of floorboard, out of Lupin's reach. Lupin gave a roar of frustration, Robert yelled, "Damnit!" Five seconds.

"What do I do?" Robert eyed the room, desperate for a stick or a pole, or something to move the vial toward Lupin.

"Nothing!" Lupin yelled, sounding more human again. "I've... never tried this... without a wand... but I have... no... choice." Lupin brought himself up on his hind legs and pointed a razor sharp claw at the wolfsbane. He mustered up every ounce of humanity he had left in him. He intoned, clearly, "Accio, wolfsbane!"

The vial shot up from the floor. Lupin caught it between his two front paws. Two seconds. He crushed the vial, and licked hungrily at the substance now dripping down his paws and forelegs.

With a great creak, the chains gave way, releasing the werewolf. Lupin let out a deafening roar, his paws curled, the liquid still dripping, and his claws fully extended. Lupin lunged toward Langdon in a full pounce. All Langdon could do was duck and cover, waiting to feel the cut and tear of the immense talons in his vulnerable flesh.

Instead, Robert felt a rush of air against his bare arms, and heard a sickening thud. Robert looked up, his arms still curled around his face in a protective posture. The werewolf had fallen to the ground in a heap, and had changed back into a man.

Robert shuddered, exhaling an enormous sigh of relief. He swallowed, struggling to catch his breath. Another near miss. He relaxed his arms, sat up straight, and sank his head into his hand, his breaths still forced.

The man slowly lifted his head, and pushed himself up on his weakened elbows.

Robert stood up tremulously, and offered his hand to the man. "Professor Remus Lupin, I presume?"

"Yes," Lupin said weakly, as he stood. Robert saw in the moonlight that Lupin was for the most part, naked. "In the, er, flesh, unfortunately - amazingly."

Robert reached behind him and pulled one of the curtains from the window. "Here, wrap yourself in this."

"Thanks. Are you okay, Robert?" Lupin stared in amazement at his now human hands. "It's not supposed to do that," he muttered under his breath.

Robert did not hear him. "Yes, I'm fine. Still a little shaken up, but fine. I thought for a second there I was going to be wolf chow." Robert forced a small laugh.

"I'm sorry for that." Lupin sounded morose, still inspecting his hands and arms, and pulling his -- now significantly smaller - arms out of the wrist chains. He pulled the neck chain easily over his head and threw it to the floor.

Robert shrugged. "What happened? How did you get in here? Did anyone know you were in here?" Robert thought of Paolo, wondering to himself if he knew, but then shrugged it off. Paolo wouldn't have brought him here if he knew there was a werewolf.

"I don't know, but I wish I did." Lupin answered. He picked a large chunk of glass out of his mouth, and flicked it at the floor. "I was on my way to Dumbledore's office to see if I could be of assistance with the Cryptex. Next instant, I am laid out here, on the floor of the Shack, and there are chains around my ankles and my neck. There was a glass of wolfsbane in front of me. I drank it but it tasted odd, as if it had been watered down." Lupin coughed, and fished out yet another piece of glass.

"Obviously, it was," Robert said. "Obviously, whoever brought you here wanted you to change, to be dangerous enough to kill, but sane enough to realize, and maybe regret, what you did. And," Robert continued, looking at his watch, "whoever it was, wanted you loose at exactly ten minutes after midnight."

"I have no idea." Lupin's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "But I do not appreciate my...my affliction being used in this manner! I do not take kindly to being used as a weapon. I was used as such only once before, and I let James and Sirius know never to do it again. Whoever did this, knows me, and knows me well."

Robert recalled the first poem. "James Potter and Sirius Black?" Robert asked. "Is that Mr. Prongs and Mr. Padfoot?"

"Yes, my best mates from school. Prongs and Padfoot, but they're both...."

"Dead now, right?"

Remus' eyes looked suddenly sad. "Yes."

"So, you must be...Mr. Moony?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

Robert told Lupin about the first poem on the parchment, having committed it to memory.

Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs

Bled and died for their wrongs

Mr. Moony's oe'r crippled with grief.

Mr. Wormtail, the last, has fled from his past

And serves me, the Dark Lord, beneath.

"Merlin's Beard!" Lupin swore. "Not too many people know about those names, Robert. Wormtail, maybe Voldemort knows about, but the rest of us?"

"You use his real name?"

"Yes," replied Remus. "Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself. There's no sense in mincing words. I only say You-Know-Who in front of other wizards. Can't stand the wincing and shuddering each time I say Voldemort!" Lupin continued. "Unless Wormtail told him - Wormtail's our other, well, former friend, Peter Pettigrew, but he turned traitor..." Lupin slumped to the floor. "He must know, then!"

"Know what?"

"Voldemort. He must know that James and Sirius were animagi, and he must know about my lycanthropy!"

"Animagi?" Robert joined Lupin on the floor.

"Wizards who can turn themselves, transfigure themselves into animals at will. Peter, Sirius, and James learned the magic for me...to keep me company during these monthly transformations. Peter became a rat, Sirius a dog, and James a stag. Thus the names."

Lupin seemed lost in thought. "Dumbledore knows. Harry knows. Hermione and Ron, too, but they'd never do anything like this, set me up this way. Even Snape knows, but as nasty as he is, would never do anything for Voldemort again. He is on our side."

Again? Robert felt a slight chill, remembering the words from the parchment. "A traitor such as yourself, Snivellus..."

But," Lupin continued, "if Wormtail told his master, that would explain things a little better. Someone working for or with Voldemort must know I'm a werewolf, and brought me here to..."

Robert understood. "To kill me. Whoever did this thought we'd never solve the Cryptex -- because of the misleading clues. More importantly, this person wanted leave you with the memory of doing it - cutting me to bits. But, the question remains. Why?"

Lupin shuddered, and got shakily to his feet. "Let's get out of here."