A Sea Change

Chapter 13:

Words on paper had always told Remus more than they told most people. The first time he read the letter, he grinned and shook his head incredulously.

When he reread it, however, he stopped smiling, and lines of concern formed between his eyebrows. Reluctance, veiled but active hostility, condescension… there was more to this letter than had appeared at first.

He began reading the letter for the third time, then stopped, and gave an involuntary shiver. Hatred—there was hatred here, but against whom, he couldn’t decide.

Remus folded the letter carefully and returned it to its envelope. He flattened it neatly with both hands and tucked it into a pigeonhole in his desk. 

He couldn’t think what to tell Sirius.

Thursday morning, Folberg:

Young Jonas was as much of an early riser as Sirius, it seemed. The two of them sat together on the back step of the cabin, wrapped in the thick green cloaks everyone wore here, sharing a pre-breakfast meal, waiting for the sun, and the rest of the Pack, to appear. The bright moon, and the stars, gave enough light for the two of them to see small clouds of vapour in the moisture-laden air as they talked.

“It’s partly because I don’t want to be there without my parents, and my sisters, and my grandparents. I think of them more when I’m in the village where my home used to be… but mostly it’s because I want to be everything,” Jonas answered, around a mouthful of toast. “I’m Sami, you see, and my best friend is Norse, and now my family is English.”

“I thought for a long time about this, when I went back to my…the village where I used to live, to help search for my family.” There was a pause in Jonas’s narrative, and he looked away from Sirius, out toward the water of the fjord. Sirius could just make out the sleek black hair, the snub nose and vaguely exotic, high cheekbone; he got no clues to the boy’s mood. He waited silently and sipped his rapidly cooling tea.

“I like the life I had there, and all my relatives. But everyone there looks like me. I know what everyone will do, and what they all will say, before they can even say it. I don’t always know that about Remus. Or Andie. 

“I can still be a fisherman if I want to, or a herdsman if I choose, but there are other things I can be as well. Remus says,” he paused shyly, suddenly self-conscious, his embarrassment obvious to Sirius even in the dark. “Remus says I could do quite well at lots of things. I had top marks last year in Dark Arts Defence, and in Potions, and in Marine Arts. He’s proud of me….”

Lights began to glow through the windows of the cabin, indicating activity inside. Jonas stood up abruptly, in one quick motion, and moved to the door. “I’d better go in and see if they’re ready. I want to help Andie with the creatures in the barn, if there’s time.” Sirius followed, smiling at the boy’s energy.

Inside, candles were out of their box, floating above the kitchen table as Remus made more tea. Andie bustled out of the bedroom, kissed Sirius on the cheek and gave Jonas a quick hug. “Jonas, love, are you coming up to the barn with me?” She turned to Sirius.  “We’ll be home for lunch, but it’s so much easier just to grab breakfast in the dining hall. Gwen’s still asleep. You can talk to Remus; his first class isn’t for two hours yet. We’ll see you later.”

 

Warm, gentle bands of affection, beginning from Andie and reaching everywhere in the room; bright sparkling patterns from Jonas to Remus, which Sirius tentatively identified as hero-worship; his own deeply coloured, complex bond with Remus; all subtly different from last night, when they’d celebrated the full moon quietly together, but composed of all the same elements.

He felt himself staring. Worse, he felt tears forming in his eyes. They’d all think he was an idiot. He reached out, ruffled Jonas’s hair as the boy followed Andie out the door, and held his cup for Remus to refill. He set the cup down on the table, found his handkerchief in a pocket, blew his nose.

He was enchanted with this new skill, but there was no denying that sometimes it was damnably awkward. He thought for a moment about Dumbledore: the cryptic, sometimes nonsensical conversations, the good-humoured twinkle in his eye that he never explained, the blank stares, occasionally.… Apparently one never entirely got used to having all this information.

Well—he would learn to handle it better than this. He wasn’t keen to have his loved ones worry even more about him. He took a deep breath, sat down at the table, and smiled  up into his old friend’s eyes. It was easier to focus, with just one other person in the room—but then things were always easier when Remus was around. He added milk to his tea and sipped it deliberately. “So, should we talk about this letter you got, from the French family?”

The easy smile Remus had greeted him with vanished immediately. “Oh, yes, the letter. I wonder just what we’re getting into, here; they sound a bit….” He turned in his seat, peered into the opposite end of the room, and pointed his wand at the disreputable old roll-top desk he’d found somewhere. When the top opened,  Remus Summoned a neatly-opened envelope.

“The letter alone is a piece of work. I’ll read it to you; it’s in French:

16 November, 1995

My Dear Professor Lupin,

Thank you for your most helpful and detailed letter, and the accompanying books. I shall now report to you our efforts to comply with your requirements for attempting your admirable Wolfsbane Spell.

I myself prepare the Potion each month for my daughter. She uses it always quite correctly, which I assume from the absence of screams or other sounds of violence from her locked bedroom, where she accomplishes her Change.

My wife and I have applied ourselves to committing the Calling Spells to memory, concentrating on the three which you marked for our notice in the book you enclosed. Understand, we have never used these old spells—wandwork is so much more efficient. They are all very long, are they not, and so repetitious! We are familiar with their use only as curiosities from the History of Magic. I do flatter myself, however, that our memory for incantations is quite up to the task, and we will both be letter-perfect very soon.

And now, M. Lupin, I must be completely honest with you and admit to a failure in what must be an important element in the spell: my wife has been completely unable to gain the trust of the Wolf. During the November full moon, my wife attempted to join Jeanette in her Animagus form; on this occasion the Wolf showed fear and anger most alarming to witness. She was forced to leave my daughter’s room, and even though Jeanette cannot remember completely what occurred, she has announced that she will not allow my wife in the room with her for the December Change.

M. Lupin, I deeply regret having to bore you with the affairs of my family, but I do not believe this unhappy situation can be amended. Our daughter does not confide in us: she is almost completely estranged from us and all our wizarding friends. She chooses to spend her time with Muggles—Gypsies, and other individuals completely unsuitable. She has refused to return to School since she was bitten, despite Mme Maxime’s assurances that her condition could be accommodated. Indeed, I believe that the only reason she remains in our home at all is her dependence upon the Wolfsbane Potion.

We all, however, despite our differences, are most anxious to attempt your courageous Wolfsbane Spell. Our daughter is difficult, it is true, but we do have great sorrow at her discomfort each month and agree that her situation must be amended. We wish to carry on with performing this Spell under the guidance of your esteemed colleague, M. Black. Please inform him of our decision to attempt the Wolfsbane Spell at his convenience; January full moon would be ideal.

I am most sincerely

Claude-Anatole Pepin DelaRose

Sirius sat open-mouthed, for a moment, then gave in to an incredulous smile. “So, he’s saying they still haven’t learned the Calling, and their daughter’s Wolf doesn’t trust them, but they want me to come down and help them do the spell when it’s convenient… next month, to be exact. Amazing.” He shook his head, still grinning, and turned his attention back to his tea.

Remus risked a smile himself, the anxious look in his eyes fading a bit. “It is rather funny, when you put it like that. I’ll answer it, then, shall I? Something along the lines of ‘Sorry, we don’t feel that we can risk it until you’re able to befriend the Wolf, at least…’?”

Sirius looked up, frowning. “I don’t think a letter will do these people much good, Moony. I think I’ll just go down there, maybe in the next week or two. They don’t seem to get it, but there’s the girl to consider. If there’s any way to help her, I should give it a go. Once I talk to them, and to her, it should be clear whether we can try the spell.” He began fiddling with his spoon, tapping it against the knuckles of one hand.

“Sirius, don’t go.”

Sirius stared in surprise. “What did you say?”

Remus looked up from the letter in confusion. “Nothing. But to be honest, I think you should wait. This whole situation—I’m not sure this is going to work at all, and it’s clear they don’t have a clue what’s involved. There’s a feeling of …well, not Death Eater, exactly, but…I just don’t think these are very nice people, Pads….” He looked unhappy, but said nothing else.

“Well, no: they’re idiots, obviously. But it’s a young girl, Moony, and she’s a werewolf, and she needs help. If there’s anything I can do, I need to try….”

“Sirius, stay away from those people. I’m afraid…”

Sirius looked sharply at his old friend, who sat biting his lip, saying nothing. It must be working, the Legilimency. Damn. Strange way to find out….

“I’m able to handle myself, Moony; don’t be such a worry-wart. I have to know, and do what I can. I’ll write to your uncle Paul, shall I, and ask if he’ll go with me, to translate? There’s no need for you to take time off from your classes, and Jonas seems to need you here just now. Paul’s no fool; between the two of us we should be able to make sense of the situation.

“Well, what about Gwen? I really hope you don’t plan on taking her with you….”

“No, I don’t think France is ready for Gwen. I don’t know; I’ll need to talk to her—it should only be for two or three days till I make some sense of this family. I’m not sure what she’d like to do while I’m there.” He looked across the table in confusion; Remus’s mind was full of fear.

“It’s clear you don’t want anything more to do with this; do you know these people, or something? I promise, I’m well able to take care of myself against any uppity family that disapproves of Muggles and gypsies.” He grinned, and added, “Besides, it will do me good to see how one deals with a headstrong teenager: I may need that information someday.”

Remus shook his head unhappily. “I can’t explain it. It’s the letter: there’s an obstinate, malicious tone to it that I can’t put my finger on, but it’s there, all right. M. DelaRose hates somebody; I’m not sure who it is. I wish you were out of this altogether; I don’t want you near them. They’re bad news. You could still back out….”

Sirius sighed and bit his lip. Wonderful: now that he could read Remus’s mind he was more confused than ever. “Moony, I wish I knew what the trouble was, but I have to find out what I can. It’s—she’s a werewolf, Moony. I have to help.”

The door to the spare bedroom opened, and Gwynneth entered, barefoot and yawning.

“Did I hear you say something about going away, somewhere I can’t go?”

Sirius grinned at her, and said, “Come over here, love. Have some tea while we tell you about it. First, let me tell you what a werewolf is….”

                                                                      ****

Gwen was silent when they finished explaining. She sat staring into her teacup, her thumbs tracing around the rim absently. After a moment, she turned to Remus, her eyes sympathetic. “This happened to you, when you were very small?”

“Yes.”

“And Sirius helped you? Did he make you stop hurting?”

“When we were children, he couldn’t stop it from hurting; he didn’t know how. Nobody knew how. He did create Padfoot, though, and Padfoot made friends with the Wolf, so that he wouldn’t be so afraid and wild. James and Peter created Animagus forms as well; they stayed with me every full moon. ”

Remus hesitated; he wanted her to understand, but not be distressed.  “It was hard—I had to deal with the Wolf without them for the years Sirius was in prison, and the other two, as I thought, were both dead. Then, when Sirius escaped, he found a way to speak to the Wolf, and convinced it to trust me. That stopped the pain, and allowed me to transform any time I wanted to, like any other Animagus.”

He forced himself to say the next few words. “Nobody else has ever done that: made friends with a werewolf. If Sirius can do it again, for another wolf, it will be miraculous. This family in France wants to have Sirius try the same spell with their daughter. It would be wonderful, for all other werewolves, if it could be done again. If any of them could be helped in that way.” He took a deep breath, not wanting to sound at all unwilling: “That’s why Sirius has to go.”

Sirius gazed at them both, losing the thread of the conversation for a moment as he watched the connection they made. The distress Gwen felt for the werewolf Remus had been; the tenderness and patience Remus was showing her—the evolving rapport between the two of them sparkled, lighting up the room and warming his heart. There’d been nothing in Remus’s voice to indicate his reluctance over the DelaRose family. He looked steadily across the table at Remus, smiling his gratitude while still hearing the doubts Remus hadn’t mentioned.

Remus stood up and made for the door, taking a cloak from the hook. “I’ll be late if I don’t hurry. Stay around at least for lunch, will you? Then we can all eat together before you go home, and you can tell us what your plans are.” He moved quickly around the table and gave Gwen a kiss on the forehead before hurrying off to his students.

Sirius got up from the table. “You haven’t had any breakfast yet; bacon and eggs? Toast?” He busied himself at the frying pan, talking to her at the same time.

“These people with the werewolf daughter don’t seem to understand what they’ll need to do; I should take a couple of days to go to France and talk to them, and fairly soon. Perhaps next week, if I can get in touch with Remus’s uncle by then. While I’m there, would you like to stay here with Andie and Remus? They’d like to have you, and the sea is right outside the door… I’ve been afraid you’d miss it, at the Hut.”

“It’s lovely, smelling the sea…but it isn’t the sea that I need, now. I will stay at the Hut, and Apparate to the school as I have been doing, to work with Moody and the students. And Harry. Take the brass cup, and Harry will send you letters. I’ll stay alone, just to see what it’s like; I’m a bit curious. You’ll… will you… when will you go, and when will you come back?” Her eyes were enormous, uncertain, grave. She bit her lip.

Sirius handed her a plate. He felt the teapot, decided it was too cold, and began a fresh pot. “I’ll wait for a few days until I can talk to Remus’s uncle Paul. I’d like to have him go with me, because they speak a different language and he can translate. I should only be there for one or two days the first time; I’ll need to just talk to them and see if I think I can help her. Then, at the next full moon, in a month, I’ll go back and try the spell.”

He sat beside her as she ate, answering her questions and comments without paying much attention, thinking back to Remus’s inexplicable reaction to the DelaRose letter.

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

They toured the school, spending extra time at the Marine Arts classroom and the barns, with Andie and Kjersti and their animals. The baby, Thor, toddled fearlessly among the creatures, bestowing a beaming smile on them when they entered. Then suddenly he Apparated from the goat pen into Sirius’s arms and laughed delightedly when Sirius nearly dropped him in surprise.

“He can be a bit disconcerting, if you don’t know about his abillity,” Kjersti said fondly. “We’re lucky he hasn’t chosen to go away from us. So far, he only Apparates to people he sees. Erik and I are very proud of his ability, but it does worry us.” She smiled as Sirius set the baby on the floor and transformed into Padfoot, much to little Thor’s delight. Dog and baby moved off together, back to the goat pen, Thor clutching a handful of Padfoot’s fur to steady himself.

Gwen sat contentedly on the straw with Kjersti and Andie, listening to them telling her about the animals: reindeer, cattle, sheep, goats, ponies. She knew about sheep, of course; she had seen them, and a few cattle, on her walks with Sirius, in the countryside around the Hut. She had never been this close to them before, however, to feel their warmth and presence, and smell the peaceful herbivore smell they had. The barn was a good place, she decided.

She was aware of a change—not enough of a change, or enough aware, that she could put it into words, but—she knew she was changing. New feelings: affection, sympathy, and… remembrance, feelings she knew had not been there before. The thought of Remus, her friend Remus, suffering such pain and torment as he’d done most of his life, distressed her. She now remembered pain, and the awful feeling of panic that went with it. She remembered Sirius and Moody helping her, removing her pain, and she was glad that Remus had been helped in this way.

Then too, sitting here with Andie and Kjersti as one of a group made her feel accepted, included, happy. She supposed she had been accepted by other seals at one time, but there had never been any special feeling of satisfaction involved with those groups; they just were.

Humans didn’t have to see a thing to think about it: their minds worked at things far away or in the past—or the future, in addition to the things in front of them. Gwynneth wondered why this was not confusing to her. Her mind kept her occupied even when her body was still, and she found that she enjoyed the thoughts her mind presented her with.

She could use her mind to think about other people, who were not even present. She could think about Harry, or Alice, or…anyone she’d ever met, really. These thoughts gave her pleasure.

Andie leaned over and gave her a hug. “You look very happy today,” she teased.

“I am happy. I like being human. I like being in this barn, and I like being female, sitting with other females, with you and Kjersti. I used to sit on the rocks with other females; I enjoyed being with them. I remember how that was.” She shook her hair back from her face and laughed at Padfoot, who sat patiently, having his ears pulled as little Thor used them for handholds to pull himself up from the floor. “And I like Sirius. I like Sirius very much.”

It wouldn’t matter if Sirius was in a different place than she was; she would remember him and wait for him to come back. Two or three days, he’d said.

That wouldn’t be very long.