A Sea Change

Chapter 14:

12 December, 1995, Ile de la Camargue

Paul Lupin sat contentedly on the rustic bench in his back garden, smoking his pipe. To please Cécile, his wife, he was wearing a black, straight-brimmed hat and a loose jacket, though the weather was sunny and mild and the garden was sheltered from any winds that might have arisen.

Paul was stocky, sixtyish, slightly below medium height, his dark hair and enormous moustache liberally flecked with grey. Both he and his wife considered this salt-and-pepper effect to lend dignity to his handsome features. He appeared, and was, a man contented with his life, his past, and his friends, one of whom would be arriving presently.

He scanned the evening sky, hearing the sound before he saw it: a dark speck in the clear blue. That would be him; Remus had said in his last letter that Sirius was now riding a motorbike.

The speck rapidly grew larger as the sound increased: a man on a motorcycle, improbably flying through the air at tremendous speed, accompanied by a resonant, grumbling roar.

Paul smiled happily and stood up. The motorcycle drew directly overhead, swooped lower, circled the area once and landed neatly on the gravel path at the far end of the garden. The roar of its engine suddenly ceased, leaving the air almost uncannily still.

“Welcome, my friend! How delightful to see you again! Cécile too is enchanted that you have decided to come. She is not so happy with your errand, but we are both most willing to help you in any way we can. Come in, come in; take off that helmet and allow Cécile to feed you, as she has been waiting to do!”

Sirius allowed himself to be led inside the rambling stone house and fussed over, smiling and grateful for the warm welcome. Paul and Cécile were great; he felt at home here.

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“The DelaRose family, such a grand old name, so prominent in French wizarding history. They are from the area around Paris, you know. I don’t think the Southern life appeals to them, but they have stayed, nevertheless. They moved down here when little Jeanette was just a baby; local gossip hints at political difficulties of some sort up North.” Paul halted his narrative to accept more coffee from his wife.

“Thank you, my dear.” He turned his attention once more to his tale. “M. DelaRose bought a very extensive property in our district, several miles to the east, in a slightly more—agreeable area, not so wild as our own little farm. He found himself in control of several tenants, and determined that his land could be much more productive with such improvements as he proposed. Understand, my old Sirius, that this DelaRose was a Northerner, not a farmer, not…acquainted with the customs of our area… no matter. There were misunderstandings, outright defiances, an attempted eviction—the courts eventually sided with the tenant—the family DelaRose is not as well-liked as perhaps could be.” He sipped his coffee solemnly, watching with approval as Sirius allowed himself to be fed from Cécile’s bottomless soup pot: a steaming, savoury vegetable soup, with great pieces of fresh, crusty bread.

“Your appetite and your appearance are truly much improved, my friend, are they not?  Clearly your Pack has been a benefit to you as well as to my nephew. I am delighted for all of you: your charming sister, our old Remus—and now you have your young godson! I hope you will bring him to visit with us, at the end of term.”

Sirius buttered more bread, smiling as Cécile filled his bowl a second time. “I was hoping you’d invite us! Harry would love it here. And I know you’ll like him; he’s a wonderful kid. He learned this summer to Apparate—only fifteen! He’s a Legilimens—he’s doing extra work at school, helping other students with their Dark Arts defence….”  He stopped and grinned at himself, thinking how he must sound. He changed the subject.

“Perhaps you should tell me what else I need to know about the DelaRose girl. Her father, in his letter, seemed to believe that she was hopelessly estranged from him and his wife. Do you know them well enough to guess at what we’ll find there? He said the girl will not allow her mother’s Animagus form to be alone with the Wolf—how do they expect this to work at all? You know how completely Remus trusted us—I don’t know if the spell will work without that….” He looked from one to the other of his hosts, seeing uncertainty in their faces, feeling doubt in their minds.

Cécile shook her head. “Ah…Madame DelaRose, Eugénie. The mother. Very beautiful; a—a femme fatale, as some say. Man-eater, as some say, in English. She likes to be followed, to be admired—to control men. To control, also, her daughter, who does not like to be controlled. Understand, I am not a confidante of hers; this is all gossip, and what I have seen on the occasions when we’ve met in company. She does, I will say, have excellent taste; it has not been so long ago, at a party, that she made advances to Paul. He pretended not to notice, and she dislikes us both for that….” Cécile smiled, impishly, and gave her husband a wise, complicated look, the lovely connection between them sparkling briefly before it subsided to its former muted colours.

Paul stroked his moustache, obviously both pleased and amused. “She may have some little beauty, but she has no—what is it—joy in her. She is nothing to my Cécile. But we stray from what you need to know: the daughter. Jeanette is a quick and very clever girl, but she has no respect for her parents and their affairs. You know, my old Sirius, how a child will unerringly find and do that thing which irritates its parents the most grievously? Or perhaps you do not know this yet; you have not been a parent very long.

“This young girl is very beautiful, like the mother, also very wilful and determined to defy her parents. She took a Muggle lover—a boy very well liked by nearly all, an intelligent young man. A Gypsy. His family spends most of their time in this vicinity, and they have worked for me occasionally. He has a gift for working with horses and cattle. Her parents, of course, viewed the alliance with horror, and forbade her to see this boy. She, of course, refused to comply, and left home at night to walk to the café where they were to meet—through the countryside. She had almost reached the café when she was attacked by the werewolf. The boy heard her screams, came running, and drove away the wolf with a silver knife, but she had already been bitten.”

Paul stopped his narrative and shook his head. “You should meet young Jeanette before I tell you any more. She is very unhappy, and her young man is also. They did not see each other after the bite, or so her father told me, with great satisfaction. I do not know if they have reconciled, but I know she blames her parents, and they blame the boy. I will take you to their home tomorrow; for now, I believe we should all sleep. You have had a long journey, and I—I am not as young as I was, despite what my lovely Cécile may think.” 

They went to their beds, laughing.

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What with morning gossip, friendly chatting over coffee and pastries, and a stroll through the grounds to see an extension to Cécile’s garden, and then another walk to the seashore (“Oh, you must see it in the winter, a completely different aspect”), it was well after noon before they decided to pay the inevitable visit to the DelaRoses. “We shall Apparate, shall we? Cécile, my dear, I shall be home for supper, at least. Sirius, my friend, if you will follow me….” Paul Disapparated and Sirius followed him.

The house, on the outside at least, was much the same as the home of Paul and Cecile: thick stone walls, huge and rambling, only with rather more formal gardens, and outbuildings painted white.

M. DelaRose welcomed them inside with a practiced smile, saying something that sounded gracious and well-bred.

“Sirius, allow me to present Claude-Anatole DelaRose. He hopes you will pardon him for his lack of English,” said Paul softly, before replying to him with a small bow.

Inside, the difference was more striking: instead of Paul and Cécile’s informal, rustic but comfortable furnishings, the DelaRose house resembled nothing so much as a display room in a museum. Spotlessly polished, ornately carved pieces of obviously very expensive furniture were aligned to precise angles. The floral carpets, delicate china figurines bowing and curtseying on the mantel, and silk cushions scattered artfully on the pale blue brocade-covered chairs and sofa reminded Sirius forcefully, with a shock, of his mother’s small office in the back room of their house, before she’d left. Sirius looked around dubiously for a place to sit, but decided to remain standing until directed.

There was another short speech from M. DelaRose and Paul said, “He says to sit here, on this sofa.” He flashed a grin at Sirius before settling himself in a nearby fragile-looking armchair, midway between the indicated sofa and another one on the opposite side of the room, where two women sat, as far apart from each other as they could make themselves.

“Sirius Black, may I present Mme. Eugénie DelaRose, and her daughter Jeanette,” murmured Paul, and Sirius rose to shake hands with them both.

The two DelaRose women, from the small distance across the room, were so much alike that Sirius had to look twice before determining that the one on the right was the daughter. Both were tall, slender, dark-haired and perfectly groomed. Both had close-fitting, almost formal robes, the mother in yellow and the daughter in black. Both had identical stern, uncompromising expressions, which softened into polite smiles when introduced, the mother’s a bit more cordial than the daughter’s. He took Mme DelaRose’s hand and murmured a greeting; she raised one eyebrow, smiled, and replied in French.

Again, Sirius was reminded of his mother: the smooth black hair with no hint of grey, the pristine, pale yellow robe, the slender, delicate hand in his. The slight but still perceptible air of disapproval. He turned to the daughter.

Jeanette extended an identically slender, well-kept hand, but with the distinct difference that her fingernails were painted black, and as she lifted her hand, her long sleeve edged back, revealing a neat bandage.

He glanced up into her face: they were there—the scars. One particularly bad one, only partially healed, began on the left jaw, running down to her neck.

The look was there, too, in her eyes, that half-defiant, half bleakly resigned look he knew so well. The look that had torn his heart as a child and as a young man, when at times he had glanced at Remus when Remus thought no-one was looking.

The look was what sealed his decision; he would help this girl.

“Jeanette, I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I speak English; you needn’t pretend. No-one is pleased to meet me.”

Sirius blinked. Her perfectly accented English surprised him, as did her offhand rudeness. Well, he’d been warned. “I might be, if you will allow me.”

“Did you really cure a werewolf?”

Sirius began explaining his spell, and his friendship with Remus: their long history as childhood mates, and the trust in each other they had lost and regained; his fascination with Calling spells and their uses; his own Animagus, and Padfoot’s help in befriending the wolf. Paul translated for the benefit of the parents, and young Jeanette’s expression grew more shuttered as the narrative continued.

He talked for what seemed hours; none of the DelaRoses stopped him, nor seemed inclined to do so. Nobody tried to ask any questions. Sirius was conscious of Paul’s soft translation, off to his left, but there was no other sound. Eventually he stopped, and coughed.

His throat was dry; in this sterile, perfect room he still felt the uncomfortable and somewhat unsettling reminder of his mother, in her little room which was always tidier than he was—the disconcerting sensation of being a child again, of being taken to task for some misdemeanour, and trying to explain his actions.

Mme. DelaRose clapped her hands and a house-elf appeared with a loud pop. It (she?) listened to the mistress’s instructions, disappeared, and was back in an instant with a tray bearing an ornate coffeepot and dainty, eggshell-thin cups, cream and sugar. Sirius accepted a cup with murmured thanks, added cream and sipped. Very strong, very bitter. Ah well—when in Rome….

He turned to Jeanette. “So, your father says you don’t wish for your mother’s Animagus form to see the Wolf any more. I’m very sorry to hear that, because I think we will need her. Or someone you know. As I told you, I’ve only done this spell once, and that was for a friend I’ve known all my life. I’m not sure, but I think there should be someone to befriend the Wolf—someone the Wolf can trust. Is there anyone you can suggest… anyone who is a trusted friend…?”

“I have no friends. Do you know about my mother and her Animagus form?” Jeanette rose gracefully from the sofa and went to a bookcase, returning with a thick volume. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for, and laid the book in Sirius’s lap. “That; that is what she becomes.”

It was a dragon.

A dragon, snakelike, pale blue, with scales shading to a delicate yellowish white on its throat and belly. The long, sinuous neck swayed gently in the picture, as if looking for a vulnerable spot in an opponent. It slowly unfurled huge, delicate, semi-transparent wings and fanned them lazily, the wings stretching to twice the length of the beast itself. As Sirius gazed at the picture, the dragon drew back a front foot and flexed its talons; a greenish drop of some liquid fell from the tip of the rear claw. The eyes, large, unblinking and hungry, staring intently up from the page, locked onto Sirius.

The text was in French; he handed the book to Paul, whose eyes widened as he stared.

“Ahh; we don’t see many of these this far South—or anywhere, for that matter. They tend to prefer the mountains, and the forests. Vosges Veilwings, they’re called. They don’t breathe fire; that would be an unfortunate trait in a forest-dwelling animal. A most rare and formidable animal.” He inclined his head toward Madame DelaRose, who acknowledged the nod with a gracious smile. “These animals are also venomous, are they not? Aha—here we are:  ‘…it is not the bite of these creatures that one must fear, but the grip. The talons on the front limbs secrete a deadly poison, which, injected into the victim, quickly paralyses its prey, allowing the Veilwing to feed at its leisure on the creature it has captured.’ Truly an animal to approach with caution, but you, my little Jeanette, surely you would be in no danger from your own mother.  All dragons are quite protective of their young.”

“You may say protective. I say smothering. Imprisoning. I must always be a credit to my family, and perfect in every way. Always a trial, but now, of course, impossible. How perfect can I be at the full moon?” She tossed hr head, and gave both her parents a contemptuous glance. “Poisonous claws—ah, the warmth of a mother’s touch!

“They want me to pretend that this has not happened, both of them—even though of course it has, and through their own repressive tyranny at that. My parents, M. Lupin and M. Black, are most concerned with the appearance of things. You understand, they want top marks from their daughter at school; they want me to marry well, to an insufferable son of one of their Northern friends; they want me to be at all times gracious and attractive—do you not find it ironic that through their own efforts to force me into this mould, they have destroyed all chances of such perfection?”

Paul had been silent through Jeanette’s speech, but from the looks on her parents’ faces, there was no need to translate. Mme. DelaRose spoke, quietly, with a tone well-modulated but precise; her hands rested in her lap as she spoke.

Paul cleared his throat and translated.  “No doubt the girl is telling you how we forced her out into the wilderness, to be attacked by monsters; this is not the case. We had forbidden our daughter to go out at all, that night. She would not be reasoned with; she had developed a passion for some Muggle lad and must, MUST go to him that very night. We locked her door; she made her escape through the bedroom window.”

Sirius held up a hand. “Paul, tell them that we can’t worry about how it happened; we need to focus on how to help Jeanette—if it’s possible at all.  Jeanette—this boy you went to see—do you trust him? Is he still a friend?”

At the mention of the boy, Jeanette’s control wavered; her voice trembled slightly. “Danilo—I don’t… I haven’t seen him for a while. Not since summer. I have not—I don’t think he wants to see me. He doesn’t know how bad this is—I mean, he shouldn’t have to.…”

She bit her lip firmly, and clenched her hands in her lap. “My parents will of course be delighted to tell you that he has deserted me, but that is not true. He was there; he was the one who saved me. I—after I was bitten, I tried to explain to him what had happened to me. He, of course, has heard of werewolves, but he said it would make no difference—that he still loved me. I could not allow him to remain close—I could not bear to let anything happen to him because of me.”

Sirius watched her for a moment, his eyes sad. “Jeanette, I am almost sure that we need someone you trust. If you are so estranged from your parents, perhaps we could talk to this boy. Do you think he would be willing to try to help you, if we can protect him? My sister helped me, when I first did the spell for Remus. I’d be willing to try it with him, if you think he’d want to….”

“But you said we should have an Animagus. Danilo is no Animagus; he knows no magic at all. He is a herdsman; his father and uncles have horses, and sometimes they work as gardians for people like M. Lupin….”  She stopped, for a moment, and gazed at Sirius pensively. “But he…maybe he still… do you think… my parents would never let him, though. I think they would rather I remained a monster than see Danilo again.” Her hands clenched; her face took on its shuttered look once more, and she looked down.

Paul began speaking, most likely relaying the gist of the conversation to the parents, Sirius thought. He sensed animosity from both of them, and the beginnings of outrage when the father answered Paul’s soft remarks. Paul continued to speak; Sirius watched the girl’s face as they talked. She was certainly listening, though she did not look up, nor did she give any indication of her opinion of what was being said, for several minutes. At last, though, when the conversation picked up speed and volume, and all three were talking at once, she raised her head, and gave Sirius a half smile.

“I think they will let him try. I think they would like for me to kill him, when I am transformed, but they themselves are not so good at argument as your M. Lupin.” She hesitated, then said softly, “I did not at first believe you wanted to help me, but now I do.” She cocked her head to one side, listening to the heated conversation with the air of one used to these outbursts.

“So: my father says we can talk to Danilo, and persuade him to help me. My mother says we must not allow this terrible boy in our house. My father says we must perform the spell here, so that no-one will know. They both now say we must use Danilo; they both now say I must give him up. M. Lupin is saying to them that they are both imbeciles.” She smiled, a true smile, for the first time in the visit, turning her face from a younger version of her mother’s into that of a mischievous child.

Suddenly, Jeanette rose to her feet; the motion caused the others to break off arguing and  look sharply at her. She began a quiet but assured speech to her parents; Paul translated, with a smile. “She is a force, this little Jeanette. She tells them to stop being ignorant and embarrassing her in front of us, who are only trying to help her. She says that we are now going to meet Danilo, if we can find him. His family are still in the district, she says. I suppose she has her ways of knowing this; they are not working for me at present. It grows late; perhaps they are at home. And now, she says we are to wait; she is going up to change.”  Paul smiled contentedly, made as if to take out his pipe, but caught himself. No doubt smoking would not be allowed in this gorgeous room.

M. DelaRose made a few remarks, grudgingly polite; Mme. DelRose glared at him. Paul returned the comments, in a very bland, placatory manner, and smiled at the two of them. “I am telling them that it must surely be more acceptable to have an unsuitable boy in attendance on their daughter than to have a werewolf in the family,” he said quietly.

Sirius took another sip of the bitter coffee, now cold. “Just tell them that it’s important for them to want her healed, that all this disagreement is only making Jeanette, and therefore the wolf, more stressed and frightened. Tell them we would like their help even in this small way. Don’t they realise,” he said in frustration, “that she’s in pain during every transformation? How can they miss the point the way they’re doing—when it’s their own daughter?”

Paul responded with a shrug and a look of frustration that matched Sirius’s.

Footsteps coming down the stairs and through the hall made them look toward the door. Jeanette appeared, looking totally different: hair down around her shoulders, and Muggle teenage uniform of jeans and two T-shirts layered over each other transformed her; no-one could now mistake her for her mother. “Are you ready? I will show you where I think Danilo is. Their work will be done for the day; he and his father and uncles will be at the café, I think.”

Paul and Sirius followed her out the door and down the path.

“You don’t mind if we walk, do you? I’ve given up wizarding methods of transportation, and besides, it would alarm Danilo’s family. It’s not far, in any case.”

Evening had fallen; the countryside was slowly being enveloped in the inky shadows of night. The air was crisp, and a few late-settling birds circled, looking for roosting places for the night. They walked together in silence for a while, and listened to the wind in the trees, as it increased and grew colder. Jeanette shivered.

Sirius took off his jacket. “Here; you should have grabbed a coat before you left, but have mine. I’ll be warm enough; I’m not prejudiced. I’ll use a warming charm.” He grinned down at her, and held the jacket while Jeanette slipped her arms into it. “Have you decided to give up magic altogether?”

Jeanette looked at him warily, then tossed her head. “I can’t see that the magical world has anything I need— only stupid prejudices, and rigid manners, and a set of tricks that can be easily duplicated by Muggle technology. The wizarding world is a prison to me. Why should I want any part of it?”

Sirius grinned at her with a glint of mischief in his eye. “No reason at all, except maybe to keep yourself warm when you forget your coat. You don’t have to live in the wizarding world; lots of witches and wizards don’t. But it’s silly to deny what you are. You’re magic, and that’s a very handy thing to be, sometimes. Then, too, lots of people in the wizarding world are much nicer than…well, than others. And at the same time, you’ll find lots of Muggles who aren’t very nice…. The two things are not related. Are you afraid your young man won’t love you if you’re a witch? That would be prejudice on his part, wouldn’t it?”

Jeanette looked up at Sirius, ready to argue, but something in the gentle, amused look he gave her made her stop before saying anything. She frowned doubtfully and said nothing.

 Paul stayed out of the conversation, but he did pull out his pipe at last, light it and puff contentedly as they walked along the road.

They had walked for several minutes before Jeanette said softly, “Danilo knows I’m a witch. And his parents, they know too.”

Sirius kept walking, and looked peaceably ahead, up the road. “Ah.”

“He’s known for almost the whole time we’ve been seeing each other; I think he’s proud of me.”

“Then why do you want to give it up?”

Sha gave a small backwards motion with her head. “Because of them, I suppose. My parents. I never want to be like them. I don’t want to marry their friends’ son, I don’t want to live in their world, I don’t want to go back to Paris—that’s what they want to do—and I can’t stand it, the way they treat the Muggles here, the tenants and the gypsies.”

“Jeanette, you can be a witch and still be kind to people; look at Paul and Cécile. Have you ever been to their house? Kindest people in the world!”

“Perhaps I should become acquainted with them; I only know them from my parents’ parties.” She glanced sideways at Paul, who nodded his head and smiled benignly at her.

“My little Jeanette, you are welcome to come visit us at any time. Suppose this: suppose that you come for a weekend or two, to stay with us. Your young Danilo may come to the house and the two of you can read up on the spell that Sirius proposes to try with you. Your parents cannot object to this; they must see that you need to be prepared. And you, surely you cannot give up magic until the magic helps you to befriend your Wolf.”

Lights up ahead. Music: an accordion. Voices. “Here we are; this is the café where Danilo and his family come. The landlord is friendly to the gypsies; there are many families who camp in the field behind this place. He says they bring him good luck.” Jeanette smiled, then bit her lip nervously. “You understand, I haven’t seen Danilo in…several months. I don’t even know if….”  Jeanette’s eyes grew worried, and her voice trailed off uncertainly.

The café was of the same thick stone as most of the buildings in the area. Long and low, with a pleasant vine-covered trellis surrounding a courtyard with tables, all unused this evening. The sound and light came from the inside, away from the chilly wind.

Sirius pushed open the door and held it for his companions.

Because of the music, it was less noticeable than it would have been otherwise, but it was still noticeable. Conversations stopped, heads turned, dark eyes gazed watchfully.

Sirius nudged Paul’s elbow, and said softly, “Where are the women? Is Jeanette allowed in here?”

“Oh, yes, these are not such rigid people; most of the women—certainly Danilo’s mother and aunties—are at this season working as maids in the resort up the coast. They will return on a late bus, or else sleep in the servant’s dorms there.”

Jeanette glanced calmly around the smoke-filled room, her eyes finally resting on a group of men sitting by one of the windows. Their dark hair and complexions told Sirius that they must be Gypsies; their clothes proclaimed them to be herdsmen. They had obviously just finished a meal. There were empty plates and half-filled wineglasses, pipes in roughened hands, and a few dogs at the feet of the men. One of the group, a slim, handsome youth with flashing dark eyes, half rose from his seat, but one of the older men put a restraining hand on his  arm. The young man smiled a tentative smile at Jeanette, but sat back down. One of the dogs, a medium-sized black-and white female, wagged her tail and whined a greeting, but did not leave her place by the boy’s chair.

The men seemed cautious, Sirius thought, but not hostile; they knew Paul, he remembered.

The oldest of the men stood up. He addressed Paul in French, in a friendly fashion; Sirius heard Jeanette’s name mentioned, and Danilo’s name as the older man directed him,  Sirius guessed, to bring up more chairs. Paul signalled to the barman, who approached with three more glasses and a bottle of red wine.

Sirius pulled a couple of chairs from a nearby table; Danilo procured a third and offered it to Jeanette. They sat down, Paul performing introductions. “Sirius Black, these are the brothers Ferrier: Phillipe to your right, Georges here, and René to your left. This beautiful young man is Danilo, the son of Phillipe. Fine gardians and good judges of a horse, all of them. Neighbours, through most of the year.” He smiled expansively at the company, and addressed them in French, pouring wine as he talked.

 Jeanette covered  her sudden awkwardness by patting the boy’s dog. “Bina, pretty girl! I’ve missed you! Are you looking after my... I mean, are you taking care of Danilo?”

Paul was speaking, in a relaxed, friendly fashion; the men responded more guardedly. Danilo’s eyes widened and a huge, gleaming smile wreathed his face. He stretched a hand across the table to Jeanette, who took it in hers, hardly daring to move. She spoke softly to Sirius, though her eyes never left Danilo’s face.

“He is telling them that you are going to try and cure me,” Jeanette said softly. “They are saying one cannot help a werewolf, but Paul says it has been done. He talks now of his nephew—your friend?”

Sirius nodded.

“Danilo says he will help. His father says he does not want his son to be in any danger. I—I also want him to be safe.” She broke off, and spoke passionately for a moment to the men. When she finished, Sirius noticed that her eyes were glistening with tears. He thought about putting a hand on her shoulder, but hesitated; he wasn’t sure if such a gesture would be welcomed. He sipped his wine, instead. Jeanette sniffed and spoke.

“You see, Danilo’s father loves him. He is concerned that his son may be hurt by the werewolf. That is a proper thing for a father to be troubled about. The Wolf hurts me—over and over again—and my mother and father worry that their friends will find out. And that, M. Black, is why I will not allow them to pretend to help me.”

 She broke off before her voice slipped out of control, and bent again, her face hidden, to stroke Danilo’s dog, sitting contentedly beside her chair.  “Bina, little one, you are a constant, are you not? You remember me, after all this time, and you are happy to see me, no matter what. I think you like me better than my own parents do.”

Bina wagged her tail at the attention, grinned a doggy grin and whined softly. She moved between Jeanette’s and Sirius’s chair, inviting pats, and Sirius obliged, stroking the soft fur and fondling the silky ears. “Very well-kept for a working dog,” he said admiringly; Bina had obviously been brushed recently. Despite the day’s mud on her legs and paws, the rest of her coat was clean and glossy. Bina, seemingly in response to the kind words, reared up and put her front paws in Sirius’s lap. He set down the wineglass and used both hands to pet Bina. “Dogs like me, as a rule,” he grinned, to Paul’s amusement.

Danilo grinned at Bina’s overtures of friendship, and said something to Sirius. “Bina doesn’t place her affections lightly,” Jeanette translated. “Danilo says he believes you are going to help me, because Bina approves of you. She is an unusually intelligent dog.” She listened again as the boy spoke. Her eyes, still shiny with tears, took on an expression of hope. “He says he will help me in any way he can, and that his father and uncles will soon agree that this must be done. He says they will be proud of him, though they may not show that. He says—he says he and Bina both love me, and you must tell him what to do.”

Paul smiled at her. “You have chosen a fine young man, my little Jeanette,” he said. Turning to Sirius, he added, “Danilo’s people are not like most Muggles. They know magic exists; they turn up a witch or wizard every now and then in their own community, usually someone skilled in Divination. Magic itself does not scare them. It is only magic for malicious purposes that they fear; what they know as the Evil Eye. The brothers Ferrier do not object so much to this friendship because Jeanette is a witch; they are merely afraid that a young girl so privileged, so rich, is a risky match for a boy who lives in a caravan and makes his living trading horses.”

Jeanette held her head high. “They have nothing to fear. I am aware of the differences in our lives, and I consider Danilo to be much luckier than me.” She turned to Danilo’s father, and spoke earnestly. He nodded his head, spread his hands in a gesture Sirius understood as capitulation.

Sirius, who had stopped petting Bina to watch and listen to the conversation, felt a gentle but insistent paw on his arm, and a cold nose nudging his chin. “Bina, love, I wouldn’t neglect you,” he said, giving her a scritch behind the ears. She looked solemnly into his face and gave a single, sharp bark. Sirius frowned at her thoughtfully.

“Do you know, she wants to help too. Jeanette, you have more friends than you think.” He pushed his chair back from the table to accommodate more of Bina, whose front legs were now resting across his lap. “I think Bina might be willing to sit with us at the full moon, as well. We need to talk about all this; it’s always good to have another ally, and she seems eager to help. Paul, tell young Danilo that animals are in no danger from werewolves, that perhaps if Bina came along at the full moon the Wolf would know her and be comforted.”

Paul relayed Sirius’s words to the others, who looked on with amusement, until deciding that this Englishman, while most likely mad, was perfectly in earnest. Then Danilo answered quickly, gaining enthusiasm as he spoke. Paul translated quietly, with a smile.

“He says Bina has always favoured Jeanette; she is the most sensible dog ever, and very good with all other animals. If Bina could help in reassuring the Wolf, as he understands must be done, then he would be proud to let her help.” He picked up his glass and finished the wine, then stood up.

“I believe we should start home; I know these good people have had a long day, and you, Sirius, will want to be off early for your trip home. I will take charge of these young people, and help them learn what they need to know. Jeanette, I will tell your parents that you will be spending time with my wife and me, to prepare for the next full moon. Danilo, too….” Paul broke off, and addressed the boy in French. Danilo nodded, and flashed a stunning smile to the company at large. He rose and took Jeanette’s hand, and accompanied her to the door, exchanging earnest whispers and, when he thought no-one was looking, a hasty kiss.

Paul, Jeanette and Sirius were quiet as they walked back down the road, each immersed in his or her own thoughts.

At the door to the DelaRose home, Jeanette turned to Sirius and held out her hand. “M. Black, I have not yet thanked you for wanting to help me. Please know that whether your spell succeeds or not, I am grateful.” She bit her lip, and stared off across the grounds, still holding his hand. “I had no hope before; you make me believe that perhaps one day….” She shook her head, laughed, and took off his jacket, and, quickly handing it back to him, disappeared inside.