A Sea Change

Chapter 6: 

Their arrival into Edinburgh was hectic, first at the Armstrongs, where Liz, Chris, Tamsin and the girls made them welcome and fed them. Then they walked to Nigel’s shop and the flat, where he and Maria made them even more welcome, and fed them again.

 Gwen tried to keep up with all the talk, and all the new people’s names and relationships, but the long flight on the noisy motorbike, and the barrage of new sights and sensations, proved overwhelming. After a glass of wine—her first ever—her eyelids began to droop. She leaned her head on Sirius’s shoulder, and was fast asleep in minutes. He tenderly lifted her, carried her downstairs to the little back room and tucked her into bed. Then he quietly closed the door and tiptoed back up the stairs to Nigel and Maria.

“How long has she been on land?” asked Nigel, his eyes grave.

Sirius froze. “Nearly three weeks; I saw her Change. Did you know right away?” he asked. 

“Nearly. It’s the size and the colouring, first of all. Andie’s inherited that build, you know. And then there’s that lack of—I don’t know—self-consciousness. It’s the same, just the same as I remember. My mother never did as much talking as your Gwen, and I don’t think she ever learned much magic—but her eyes—they were just the same. And her smile. I thought she was so pretty, when I was little.” Nigel’s voice was gentle; his eyes half-closed, seeing things not in the room.  

“I never got to tell her goodbye; I was at school when she left. I think she just assumed I was gone for good; she never had much of a notion about time.” His gaze dropped to the tabletop, his hands carefully occupied with pushing a few crumbs into a little pile.

Sirius cleared his throat and watched his father’s hands. “I wish I’d told you about Gwen when I first found her, but I wasn’t sure I’d want to hear what you’d say.” He looked up, then, and tried a smile. “I think I’d spend more time worrying about our future if I thought I had one. Since prison, though, I don’t care so much about twenty years from now.  It’s now that’s important; if I help her, and keep her happy and interested in things….”

 He stopped, not knowing where that thought would end. Then he touched Nigel on the arm, causing him to look up, into his son’s eyes. “She was going to throw her sealskin away,” he said. “Just before we left to come here. She was on her way down to the shore, to toss it into the sea. She said she wanted me to be happy, and not have to worry about her leaving. She said that.” He sighed, dropped his gaze, then added, “I made her keep it. To be fair.”

 “Oh, son—I’m glad you brought her here. My own father never took us to meet his parents; he said they wouldn’t have my mother in their house. It never bothered me, really, nor did she think about it—but when I entered school, and met my cousins for the first time, and learned that I was the Mudblood Black, and my father disinherited—that  hurt, a bit. And then she went back…to the sea….”

Maria moved closer to him and put an arm around his waist. He turned to look at her, his eyes tender, shaking his head. “Never mind, love; it was a long time ago, and I don’t regret any of it, really. I was loved; she was a good mother. We had a good life.”

He sighed deeply, and finally smiled. “I wish you luck. I wish I had some good advice for you. And as long as she stays, we’ll welcome her here.” He stood up slowly, stretching. “It’s been a long day; I think I’ll follow your Gwen’s example and turn in. If you don’t have plans for tomorrow, there’s a little Vespa someone brought in that I’d like to show you. You probably know more about those things than I do. Maria and I can clear up here; you'd better go on down, in case she wakes up and doesn’t know where she is.”

 

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She dreamed she was swimming.

She felt the familiar sensation of cold, clear water sliding swiftly along her body. She surfaced, in her dream, to scan the grey sky over endless waves breaking on each other, mile after mile in all directions. The water close up was a lacy, frothy grey-green and white, flattening out over the distance into a uniform grey like the sky, until finally sky and sea blended into one and the horizon was indistinguishable. She smiled in her sleep, dreamed she was diving again, sliding weightlessly, swimming powerfully. She noticed a shoal of silvery fish darting ahead of her, and gave chase.

Gradually, subtly, the rhythm of her swimming slowed and the sensation of the water against her body changed; she felt warmer. A familiar, welcome scent came into her awareness, although this could not have happened in the ocean since her nostrils would be closed while swimming. It seemed that Sirius was swimming above her, that he reached down to her, that his hands, and not sea water, were sliding along her body. She turned to him in the water…no, it was a bed… he was kissing her…she smiled once more in her sleep, dreaming that he was matching the rhythm of his swimming to hers.

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Sirius, in Nigel's shop next door, was attempting a repair of the little Vespa. Maria readied the cash drawer for the day’s customers and Gwynneth and Tamsin were dusting in the antique shop. They were doing it the Muggle way, with a cloth and a feather duster, in case a customer should wander in. Gwen found it enormously amusing.

Tamsin and her mother looked at each other helplessly, and tried not to laugh. She’d said it again, for roughly the hundredth time that morning.

“What is this?"

Gwen had been entertained by the whole concept of people coming to the shop, giving money to Maria, and taking some of these things away with them. She was even more amused at the thought that the people would be less likely to do this if there were dust on the things.

After a rather confused explanation of the whole concept of money and trade in general, and a short philosophical discussion of why people wanted things they could not use, Gwen retreated into asking the the name and function of each object she cleaned. It was an entertaining, but complicated morning.

“I know what these are,” she finally declared. “Alice has lots of these. Books! She and Sirius are teaching me to use books: A, B,C,F,G…and we must sit still, and look and look at the tiny marks. I think it will take a very long time to learn them all.  Do all humans have the skill of reading books?” She opened one, scanning the print for letters she recognised.

Tamsin answered, frowning slightly in concentration as she dusted a huge, ornately   Victorian-framed oil painting of a stag on a mountainside. “Well, nobody is born knowing how to read. We send our children to school when they’re small, to learn reading and other things. By the time we’re adults, most people know how to read. You’re right; it takes a long time to learn.”

She gave the stag a final swish with her cloth, and started on the oak desk it was resting against, then paused. She was as intrigued by Gwynneth as Gwen was fascinated by human ways. She put down her cloth and turned to Gwen. “I tell you what we could do: you met the little girls last night, at my house— my husband’s nieces. Three of them already go to school; the smallest one will begin next year. In the evenings, after we close the shop, their mother and I help them with their school work, and read to them, all sorts of stories. Would you like to come home with me and work with them, and hear the stories as well? Perhaps it would be more fun than studying by yourself.”

Gwen smiled back at her. “I would like that: I like stories.”

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“So, did the woodcutter eat the wolf, and Red Riding Hood eat the grandmother? The woodcutter was the best hunter. He should have kept both.”

Gwen waited politely for an answer as the little girls stared with gleeful horror. They’d been intrigued by the information that Gwen didn’t know any stories; they decided that she must start at “the beginning of all the stories.” Their old book of fairy tales was unearthed and presented as the Reading for the evening.

Tamsin answered as she closed the book, trying not to smile. “Um, no, I don’t think wolves are good to eat. The woodcutter killed the wolf because he was rescuing the grandmother; she was still alive. She went home with Red Riding Hood.You see, the grandmother was good and the wolf was bad, so….”

“It’s good to be able to eat; the wolf caught the grandmother fairly. Why did the woodcutter kill the wolf if he wasn’t even hungry?” 

Verity, aged four, nodded understandingly. “Gwen’s right. We have a good grandma, Grandma Falconer, and a bad grandma—I wish a wolf would eat up Grandma Armstrong. I’d eat her up myself if I was a wolf.”

Helen, the eldest and most responsible at ten, could not let this statement pass unchallenged. “Vee, that’s not nice! You know Dad says Grandma Armstrong’s not quite right, and it isn't her fault.”

“Well, I don’t care if it’s her fault or not; she’s horrible. Let the wolf have her. Here, Wolf!” Vee made wolf-beckoning motions and almost-whistles while her sisters laughed.

A knock on the door interrupted the arrival of Vee’s imaginary wolf; Jeannie ran to open it  and was scooped up, giggling, onto Sirius’s shoulder as he entered. “Hello, all; have you finished the story? Tam said to come at around half-eight and collect Gwen so you heathen children could go to bed.”

Tamsin smiled at him. “Yes, the story’s over; we were just discussing the philosophical implications of “Little Red Riding Hood”. Gwen wants to know why the woodcutter killed the wolf when all it did was eat the grandmother. Perhaps you can explain that one."

Sirius grinned at his audience. "I blame the people who made up the story. There’s always been an unreasonable prejudice against wolves; you see it over and over again. The wolf is used as the villain...."

Gwen’s eyes widened in surprise. "Wait: when you say 'made up,' does that mean this didn't really happen?" She frowned in perplexity, staring up at him from the floor where she was sitting. "Little Red Riding Hood and the others didn't do these things? How can someone tell a thing that has not happened?"

Sirius laughed as he took Gwen's hands, lifted her to her feet and kissed her. "It's another human skill I have to teach you, love: we call it story-telling, or in its less attractive form, lying. I'll try to explain on the way home."

As they moved to the door, the little girls jumped up for goodbye hugs and kisses, which Sirius supplied enthusiastically; after a second or two of observing this, Gwen responded just as happily.

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"Tell me everything," Gwynneth demanded.

"Everything?" Sirius smiled down at the top of her head as they walked hand in hand, through the park toward home.

"I need to know about lying, and stories, and reading, and why I feel so happy when I see you, but I feel almost as happy when the little girls hug and kiss me, and I need to know about money and buying things, too... and I need to know who is hunting you." She looked sideways, up into his eyes, her expression mildly expectant, as if she'd just asked for the time of day.

Sirius swallowed, trying to think where to start and not look too dumbfounded. "What would you like to know first—no, wait—what’s all this about people hunting me?"

"You told me, you and Alice, and Moody. I’d forgotten, until I went home with Tamsin, and she said we were to call you Sam, so people would not know who you were. Tell me that, first. Then perhaps I can help you kill them."

Sirius fought back an insane urge to laugh. "Gwen, love, you terrify me. Right, then, I'll tell you about why there are people chasing me, but it will take a while; it's a long story."

"A story—are you going to tell me a true thing? Not ‘made up’?"

"Oh, yes, it will all be true." He took a deep breath, and began.

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Maria had left very early for an estate sale; Tamsin and Gwynneth were minding the shop. A steady, soaking rain was keeping all customers away, and they had cleaned thoroughly the day before; there was very little to do.

Gwen wandered slowly through the shop, examining the items carefully, but unlike the day before, not asking any questions. She stopped in front of a shelf full of china dolls, some in elaborate old-fashioned costumes, some sprawling undressed, their cloth bodies stained and brown. Gwen frowned intently as she examined them, but did not attempt to touch them. She moved on to the painting of the stag that Tam had dusted yesterday, and stood staring at it thoughtfully.

Tamsin watched Gwen's progress around the room, smilingly waiting for the questions to start. She was not prepared for them when they did.

"Tamsin, you have a husband, don't you?"

Tam nodded, surprised. "Yes, his name's Pete; he's a musician. Why?"

"If he were in danger, if he were being chased by Aurors, for a wrong reason, what would you do?"

"You mean, like Sirius-- I would keep him hidden, I suppose." She stepped around the counter and moved over to Gwen, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Are you afraid for Sirius?"

"No, I'm not afraid. I don't think anyone will catch him. Sirius is clever, and he has friends who have been helping him. But I don't think he likes hiding. He says that man, who was his friend but now works for Voldemort, should be found and killed. Pettigrew. Do you think that can be done? I would like to do that."

Tamsin stared in doubtful surprise, but replied carefully: "I'm not sure that's the best thing to do, even if it were possible. Sirius wants to kill Pettigrew for betraying his friends, but to free himself, he needs for Pettigrew to be alive, and tell the truth about what happened. Some day, I hope they will capture him, but it will be very difficult. Voldemort is enormously clever, and powerful."

Gwen looked up from her contemplation of the stag. "Who will capture him? Does anyone know Pettigrew is the traitor?"

"I don't know; I suppose Dumbledore knows, and he has people who are working for him; Sirius works for Dumbledore sometimes. That's how we first met him, last year; he came here with a message from Dumbledore."

"I don't know Dumbledore, but I have heard his name. Moody was working for him.  Moody hunts people, doesn't he? Yes, he does. He was hunting me, but he let me go."

Tamsin shrugged and looked blank. "I'm afraid I don't know Moody; is he a friend of Sirius's?"

Gwynneth smiled, her clear, dazzling smile, making Tam smile back without even being aware of it. She had the air of a person who had come to a conclusion about a difficult problem. "Yes-- he is Sirius's friend. I should talk to Moody."

At that moment, Maria staggered through the door, shaking water off her hair and carrying a huge, sodden cardboard box. "Hello dears, could you just nip out to the car and bring in those other two boxes? I was lucky; hardly anybody was there. I've got some lovely things, all for for a song."

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Sirius, sitting on the floor as he threaded a bicycle chain around its gearwheels, stopped and listened with dismay as Gwen talked. "You want to work for Moody? Gwen, why? Are you sure? There are tons of things you could do instead, and anyway, you're not ready. Moody does all sorts of things that could get you killed; it's dangerous, complicated work. No, love, it's a bad idea."

Gwen crouched down, facing him, staring earnestly in his eyes as she talked. "I could do that work. I know how to watch things, and chase things. I can do spells with your wand. Moody will show me the spells I need. Why are you not happy?" She paused for breath, sat down crosslegged on the floor, and continued softly, "I do not think I can work for Maria; there are too many things in there that I do not understand. I should find something I can do, as a human. And I want to help. I could catch Dark wizards; I could catch Pettigrew. I could."

Sirius stared helplessly at her. She was so small, and so innocent. That terrible innocence of the wild animal…. She and Moody were right, though, he thought reluctantly. She could be useful to Moody, most likely. But—she could be killed through not knowing some simple thing basic to humans, something he'd not had time to teach her, or never even thought to anticipate. Moody had wanted her, back at Alice's; he'd seen possibilities. She probably remembered that. And then his story of his own imprisonment and escape had put it back in her mind.

Did he have the right, or the will, to refuse her?  If he tried to persuade her to stay with Maria and Tamsin, would she become frustrated, or bored… and leave? He wiped a hand across his face, leaving a smear of black grease down his jaw. She wouldn't understand if he refused her. She wouldn't understand if he told her to wait.

Then, too, if he were honest—he’d had the time of his life in his brief career as an Auror. The paperwork had been tedious, but the actual fieldwork—the planning, stalking,  outthinking and running down Death Eaters—had been more fun than anything he’d ever done. It had come naturally to him…as it probably would to her.

"OK, I'll write to Moody for you, but, Gwen, I'm afraid. It scares me to think of you doing dangerous things.... What if we both work for him? I’d like to be with you, to help if you need it. Would you mind working with me?"

She rose to her knees, leaned forward and kissed him, carefully avoiding the grease. "I think Moody would like that; he said you were the best he’d ever trained." She gave him that smile—that incredible, irresistible smile that caused his insides to melt every time he saw it.  “I’ll find a quill for you.”