A Sea Change

Chapter 16:

So they waited, all of them.

Waited for the full moon.

Waited for Jeanette, safe at Paul and Cécile’s house, and her Danilo to learn the spell that might, just might, help her.

The surveillance team in the rooms at Greater Hangleton waited too, for any change in the stillness. They took the jarveys out every day, to the edge of the grounds surrounding the old house, and the Seers kept watching, determined to come up with enough information to act on, and for Moody to decide what to do when they knew… whatever it was they would know.

This wasn’t a sitting-down-twiddling-your-thumbs waiting, however; they all had plenty to do.

Harry and Gwynneth kept busy with Dark Arts defence, tutoring any children who needed help. They worked together well, Moody thought, both at the school and in their own practice sessions at the Hut, on Sundays. Moody watched them, nodded his head, and shouted at them relentlessly.

 Sirius trained with Moody, Harry and Gwynneth at the Hut, and prepared his mind for another try at befriending a werewolf. He also kept up the weekday sessions with Dumbledore, which left him exhausted and occasionally withdrawn in the afternoons. On the days when he seemed the most fatigued, Gwen said very little, but when they got home, she let him stretch out on the sofa while she built a fire, prepared a supper for them both, then carried the food into the sitting room. They ate together in companionable silence on those evenings, Gwen watching him carefully to anticipate anything he might want. He was always surprised when she refilled his tea or something, just before he asked for it.

Moody taught his classes, kept his eye on the Aurors’ progress in monitoring the Little Hangleton house, and occasionally took off for a day or two on unspecified errands of his own—or perhaps Dumbledore’s.

Owls from Folberg indicated that Andie and Remus were busy as well. Jonas was fitting in almost seamlessly and was slowly regaining some of his old playfulness and energy. Andie, in her most recent letter, said she wondered what they’d done without him. He now spent some of his nights back in the second-years’ dorm, to be with Frode, but he still considered Remus and Andie’s cabin to be his home; he kept all his things there. He and Remus often took long walks together, talking about everything in the world; sometimes old Aslak, the shaman, accompanied them. And Jonas continued to wake up a couple of hours early every day, to help Andie in the barns.

Harry had come to an uneasy truce with Snape. Since most of Harry’s extra time was taken up with his tutoring, there was practically no time for him to engage in the sort of rule-breaking that Snape had found so abhorrent in former years. Then too, the fact that Harry was responsible for tutoring Snape’s students as well as Moody’s made it necessary for him to be doubly conscientious in Snape’s Theory of Dark Arts class. He asked questions; he stayed after class. He worked hard, and learned quickly. And Snape…approved. He never said so. He didn’t stop making snide remarks about Harry’s parents, or his godfather, or his friends, or his House… but the comments were fewer, and less caustic. It became a sort of private, perverse game to Harry: a point for every day he wasn’t insulted, two points for anything that sounded like approval. He’d only had a couple of two-point days, but the number of one-point days was slowly increasing.

Sirius fretted. This was certainly activity—he hadn’t been so busy in years—but it felt like spinning his wheels. His lessons in Legilimency were going slowly. The connections between people, the lovely patterns that enthralled him with their beauty, were as mysterious as ever; he’d no idea what the colours and shifting intensities meant—and the  only other thoughts he’d heard besides his own, and the ones Dumbledore had been throwing at him, were Remus’s, when they’d talked over the DelaRoses’ letter.

While he’d been in France, he thought grumpily, he could have used a clue to what those people had been thinking, but there’d been nothing. No thoughts, no connections—he’d been flying blind, depending on Paul and young Jeanette to translate. Perhaps it had been the strangeness of everything; France was a foreign country, after all. But he’d seen the bonds between the staff members in Norway….

Perhaps it was just that this was an unaccustomed goal for him, reading the thoughts of others. He’d spent most of his life actively NOT caring what people thought, and Legilimency meant a drastic change of habit. Or perhaps, he thought with a twinge of embarrassment, it was just that he wasn’t used to learning something that didn’t come easily. “The curse of the quick student” his father had called it, when the owls had gone home in his student days, with reports that Sirius never seemed to do any studying.

Well, he’d keep working. He’d make it a point to listen hard, for the thoughts of everyone around him.

But Remus’s thoughts had just been there, in his head.

And Harry had said, last summer, that he couldn’t help hearing people’s thoughts.

It wasn’t just the Legilimency; Sirius was uneasy about a few other things as well. Harry and Gwen were both taking on that businesslike, competent, cheerfully callous air that Aurors eventually developed. They worked extremely well together, as Moody pointed out now and then; it was fun to watch them running through the drills and backing each other up, seemingly by instinct.

But Harry was just a kid; he shouldn’t have to be so—so serious, and focussed, as he seemed to be. And Gwen was an innocent—well, yes, innocent, dammit—fun-loving creature, still new to the world of humans.

He loved them. It was a complicated business, loving people. He was continually astonished at the fearless honesty of Gwen, as well as her heart-stopping physical presence;  the quick humour and affection Harry brought to his life; the delicate but intense business of living with both of them.  He was never sure how to deal with it.

 Mostly, he was afraid for them both: afraid they’d forget how to play. Afraid they’d forget their innocence and learn things that made them tough and ruthless, like Moody. Like himself, back before Azkaban.

He was afraid, too, that they’d be hurt. Afraid that he might be too far away from them when something dangerous happened—as it would. This was no game they were playing. But his own hands were tied; what reaction could he expect if he told either of them to sit home and let him protect them? They’d laugh in his face, wouldn’t they.

As Gwen was doing now.

“It’s an owl, love—you’ve seen dozens of them. It’s brought us a letter. Why are you frowning at it—they always want your bacon.” She took the letter from the owl as Sirius shook off his reverie and grinned at her. “Here, I’ll read it first.” She held on tightly and backed away from him, opened the letter, and cleared her throat importantly.

“‘Hello Sirius and Gwen’—is that Gwen, or Gwynneth? Aitches and ens look too much alike.”

“Gwynneth has two ens in the middle, and it’s longer—let me see. Come on, let me see….”

He made a grab for the letter, but Gwen held it away from him. “It’s from Remus and Andie. They say, hmmm…” she pulled her wand out of her pocket and tapped the letter, murmuring “Lectio” as she did so.

The letter did a peculiar little snap in her hand, as if coming to attention, then began to speak in Remus’s voice.

Hello Sirius and Gwen,  (“See, I was right,” she said with a grin.)

We’ve been thinking about Christmas; how much time does Harry get off this year? I’m guessing you won’t want to be too far away from the surveillance work being done; should we plan on a crowded Christmas in the Hut? We’d like to see you for as long as possible.

We have a fairly late Christmas holiday this year; our last day of classes is 22 December (Friday) and we don’t go back till the 8^th. This will give me time to go down to France with you for the full moon, if you still want me to. I hope you’ll let me; I can’t shake the feeling that this girl’s family is bad news. Suppose you and I go down right after New Year’s Day and see that everyone is ready?

 You do know, don’t you, Pads, that this is unbelievably important. If you can do this spell a second time, under these conditions, it will mean…well, it’ll be important, that’s all.

At any rate, back to Christmas. We’d have more room here, I expect, and we could invite Nigel and Maria over… but if you can’t leave we’ll squeeze together somehow in the Hut. Let me know what you decide, so we can arrange transportation; Jonas doesn’t Apparate yet. Can’t wait to see you; there are things we need to tell you. (Wait for it.)

Remus.

Christmas. Sirius had forgotten. Christmas— the thought was almost as foreign to him as it must be to Gwen. Of course; they’d have to be together for Christmas…. His mind stumbled after the idea like a child scrambling for a dropped Sickle. Christmas.

“What’s Christmas?”

“Well, love, it’s a holiday….”

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

Consultation with Harry and Moody that morning settled matters: they should not spend much time, if any, away from the team watching the Little Hangleton house; the jarvey squad, especially, were turning up interesting news.

“They’ve found tunnels leading right into the house, and there are people, or at least ‘beings,’ in there all the time. Three beings, they say,”  Moody reported with satisfaction. “Jarveys being the insulting little buggers they are, we don’t know yet what kind of beings we’re dealing with, except that ‘they all stink, and one of them can’t fit in holes at all, and they’re all stupider than a box of rocks.’ And I won’t tell you what our little furry friends had to say about their habits and ancestry.” Moody laughed. “At any rate, they can’t stay in there forever, and sooner or later we’ll have an idea who, or what, we’re dealing with. Bit of a mystery so far. And there may be more than three, though the jarveys don’t think so. No movement outside the house, and we’re bound to pick up some sooner or later. That place is warded as heavily as Hogwarts; no way anyone could Apparate from inside.”

His optimism convinced Sirius; that evening he wrote an answer to Remus’s letter.

“Hello R & A,

 It looks as if we’ll be having Christmas at the Hut; things are likely to break at any time here, and Moody says he doesn’t feel like tracking us the length and breadth of Norway when the action starts. I hope you don’t mind squeezing in. Harry says Jonas is welcome to share his room. I’m thinking the quickest way to get Jonas here is for me to collect him on the motorbike; would he like that? Or, as his parents, are you willing? Perhaps, Moony, you could come here first, and wait while I make the trip with Jonas. I dare not leave Gwen and Harry for fear they’ll run off to Little Hangleton unprotected if they get a lead and I’m not here.

Gwen is delighted with the idea of Christmas. She’s all for a tree in the house and chocolate in her sock, and presents, and a lovely dinner…. I’m continually amazed at how lucky I am. Life here is unimaginably good. And terrifying—the trouble with being happy is that so many things can go wrong. (How’s that for ingratitude?)

I’ve no idea how I’m to shop for presents, but clearly it must be done.

Can’t wait to see you all, and hear whatever it is you’re being so coy about.  So unless I hear outraged parental cries before then, expect me on the morning of the 22^nd to collect Jonas.

Love,  Sirius

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

22 December:

Jonas was speechless with joy at the motorcycle ride, if a bit sore at the end of it. For about the last hour, too, the speed of their flight had caused the warming charms to keep sliding off. They arrived, chilled to the bone, stiff and shivering, but in excellent spirits, joking about the wind and the icy mists they’d ridden through.

“It was amazing! When I’m old enough, will you help me enchant a motorcycle?”

“Of course, lad, if Remus and Andie agree!”

They wheeled the motorbike to the back of the Hut and hurried inside, stamping snow off their boots and sniffing the delicious smells from the kitchen, both suddenly aware that they were famished. Jonas removed Harry’s helmet and leather jacket, borrowed for the trip, and stood holding them shyly as he took in his surroundings.

The warm, friendly little kitchen was packed with people: Nigel and Maria were here! Remus and Nigel were discussing the virtues of the Muggle postal system as Nigel stirred a huge pot of chowder and Remus chopped parsley. Maria was pulling new bread from the oven; Andie was enlarging the table as Gwen took down plates and  bowls. Harry was busy Conjuring extra chairs, with ornate bentwood backs and orange cushions. He looked up from his efforts as Sirius and Jonas came in, grinned and took jackets and helmets from them. He carried the gear off to the pegs by the front door as the others made the newcomers welcome.

Nigel turned to his son and hugged him, spoon dripping behind Sirius’s back. “Don’t look so shocked, you two; we had to come down and welcome you home! Never fear, we’ll go back to Edinburgh for the night.”

Remus laid aside his chef’s knife and took two quick steps over to Jonas. Smiling at Sirius over the boy’s head, he hooked one arm around Jonas’s neck and tousled his hair with the other hand. Jonas grinned and ducked his head, but made no attempt to escape these attentions.

The Hut would be the perfect size after all, Sirius decided to himself.

Andie slipped her wand up her sleeve and reached into a pocket, sauntering up to Sirius with a triumphant smile. “Here you are, dear,” she crowed, brandishing a flat metal container. “Guess what this is?”

“An heirloom silver whisky flask,” he said promptly. “You’ve sweet-talked Ola into willing you all his worldly possessions. Any akvavit in there?”

“No, smartarse,” she said. “Here, I’ll give you another clue.” She reached into another pocket and pulled out a small red silk handkerchief. She unfolded it carefully, and proudly displayed a lock of sandy hair.

“There: all you need. You can go Christmas shopping now, d’you see?” She waited a moment and rolled her eyes when he stood looking bewildered.

“I clearly have all the intelligence in this family—POLYJUICE POTION! Do I have to tell you everything…! Martine brewed it especially for you. And the hair is from Andreas; he said he was pleased to do his part to improve your looks. Add a hair before we set out, sip from the flask every hour, or a bit oftener, and you’ll be able to shop wherever you want! Andreas says he doesn’t know anyone in Britain besides us and Dumbledore, so you’ll be quite safe. He even sent along a change of clothes and some boots for you, since your things will be too small, after.”

Sirius blinked as the significance of what she said became clear. Christmas shopping in Andreas’s form: he could go out in public—as a human. In Britain—Wizarding Britain. “Diagon Alley—Hogsmeade—I can go anywhere, can’t I? And I can shop just like everyone else—Andie, love, this is brilliant; you certainly do have all the intelligence in the family. Gwen, what would you like for Christmas?”

“Chowder. And I don’t want to wait for Christmas—let’s have it now. Let’s not go shopping tonight; the shops will all be closed anyway.”

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

Remus set down his wineglass carefully, deliberately. “She turns into WHAT?”

The meal was over, but nobody seemed ready to leave the table. Harry, having given an account of his school routine to the company, had retired into a subdued kids-only conversation with Jonas at the end of the table, punctuated by occasional giggles and glances at the others. The topic amongst the grownups had turned to Sirius’s adventures in France, which Harry and Gwen had already heard.

“It was called a Vosges Veilwing. Frankly I wasn’t surprised; she’s pretty much of a dragon in human form as well. One of those people who always has to be in control; you’ve seen the type. The father isn’t quite as bad, but he isn’t very helpful either, and in disputes he seems to back up the mother. I’m going ahead with the spell, though. I’ve decided to use her boyfriend and his dog as her Pack. He’s only sixteen or seventeen, and a Muggle, but he loves her and he’s a very bright kid. They want to help—I think it’ll work. And she already trusts them both.  It certainly feels more right than trying to deal with the parents.” He half-stood, picked up the remaining bottle of wine and emptied it into all the glasses, a splash into each.

“Moony, if you still want to come down with me after New Year’s, we can try the potion and the spell. I’d like to have you there; I don’t anticipate any interference from the parents, but you never know. And I want the boy not to be distracted. The girl is staying with Paul and Cécile just now, learning that there are such things as kind wizards. That poor kid was ready to give up magic altogether and live Muggle, because of the sorry picture of magic her parents gave her.  Paul likes the boy and allows him to visit, so that’s a bonus. He’s learning the potion formula.” Sirius raised his glass.

“So here’s to idiot schemes; we’ll talk to this Wolf and make friends with it, right?” Eyes sparkling with the glee Remus recognised from school days, Sirius drained his glass; after a second’s hesitation the others did likewise. Sirius pushed his chair back a bit from the table and surveyed his own Pack with satisfaction.

“Well, you three, are you ready to tell us your news?  You’ve been sitting there listening to us go on about our lives; what’s the news from Folberg?”

Andie, Remus and Jonas glanced at each other, and Jonas spoke up shyly. “What shall we start with?”

Andie grinned at her brother. “I think we’ll start small and work up; that seems best. First I should tell you we’re moving into a different cabin. We’ll have quite a bit more space; room for you three, and Nigel and Maria, when you come visiting. Andreas thinks, too, that we should be closer to the barns for lambing season this year, so I won’t have such a time getting there in bad weather.” She smiled at Remus. “Should we tell him about your new job next?”

Remus grinned. “We may as well; that’s next in importance, I suppose. It was a nice surprise. Andreas, with full approval from the Ministry in Oslo, has appointed me assistant Headmaster; what with the school expanding so rapidly, he told the Ministry he needed help, and they gave him permission to create the post. I’ll still be doing the Dark Arts classes, only starting earlier in the mornings to leave afternoons free for any administrative stuff Andreas has for me to help with. The rest of the staff seem pleased to have me doing the job—even Isak and Kaja have given me congratulations. There’s a bit more money involved, and not much more in the way of duties yet. That will come later, when we begin our report to the Ministry in the spring.”

He gave Sirius a quick look, then lowered his gaze to the tabletop, and began twirling a spoon between his fingers. “A comfortable home; a family… friends… people pleased with my work…. This is so different from how I used to imagine my future. You’ve no idea—well, actually, Pads, you probably do know. I never expected—I never thought it would be possible to be this happy.”

Sirius stared across the table at his old friend; Remus glanced up at him and grinned.  “Wait for it.... Andie can tell them....”

They’re having a baby.

Andie cleared her throat self-consciously. “Well, now for the real news: Remus thought we should wait for Christmas to tell you, but I’ve wanted to for the longest time now! We’re having a baby. Two, actually. Twins. Kjersti says they’re girls.” Andie looked as though she’d been waiting all her life to say those words. “May, she says, or early June. I can still hardly believe it.…” Her voice was drowned out by whoops of joy from Sirius, Maria and the rest, as people jumped from their chairs to shower her and Remus with congratulations, kisses and fierce hugs.

 Gwen, in her chair next to Sirius, sat still and smiled uncertainly, first at the exuberant chaos surrounding Andie, then up at Sirius. “I didn’t know it would be such exciting news; should I have told you? I just thought people had babies all the time….”

  We’re having a baby.

 He heard her as clearly as if she’d shouted.

It was his sudden, wide-eyed stillness that drew their attention, and everyone heard his answer. “Actually, love, it is news; it’s the best news. We don’t do it that often; sometimes never. Or sometimes one baby is all a person ever has….” The colours were surpassingly beautiful, and his head was full of a confusion of his family’s thoughts as he swept her out of her chair and into his arms.

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

They floated through the holidays on a wave of euphoria, shopping, decorating, gossiping, playing…. There were three-on-three Quidditch games, Wizarding chess, and a near disaster: Jonas was Splinched as a result of Harry trying to teach him to Apparate, and had to be put back together by the grownups. He seemed unfazed by the mishap, however, and badgered everyone until he was allowed to continue practicing.

Andie and Gwen formed a formidable maternity alliance, discussing their condition and all that went with it, and determining that Gwen’s baby would probably be born in mid-August. She took out her wand once, holding it parallel to Gwen’s stomach, and moved it slowly back and forth. “The baby’s so new, it’s hard for me to tell if it’s a boy or a girl. Kjersti is expert at this sort of magic; she could tell. The next chance you get to come to Folberg, we’ll have her look at you. You’ll need to think of a name for it.”

Gwen frowned for a moment. “I think I’ll ask Sirius to do that; I don’t know enough names. What will you call your babies?”

Andie pulled out a bit of parchment. “I’ve been writing down names as they occur to me. I’ve even picked a couple of boys’ names, in case Kjersti is mistaken, but I think we’ve pretty much settled on naming them after a couple of Remus’s great aunts; he says the old ladies were twins too—twins turn up every so often in his family—and they were very fond of him when he was small. They’re old-fashioned names, but I like them: Rosamonde and Meredith.”

The question of names for the baby did arise one evening, around the fire over cups of hot chocolate. Sirius at first declared that if the baby were a girl they could name it after Andie; if a boy, after Remus. Simple, he said. He seemed shocked at the immediate protest from his Pack.

Harry looked pained. “You’re just being lazy: we already have a Remus and Andie; things would get really confusing. Think of something else.”

Andie, too, squashed the idea. “I’ve always thought ‘Andromeda’ was too much of a high-flown Black family name. It’s enough that I was named after some pureblood second cousin I’ll never meet—why bother acknowledging that side of the family when they’ll never acknowledge us?”

 Remus flatly refused to allow Sirius to even contemplate naming the baby after him.

“This is an innocent child; I can’t imagine what my parents were thinking, let alone you. ‘Remus’ is a terrible name for a baby.”

Sirius waved his cup, fortunately empty. “How about reversing your names—we could call him John Remus…”

“No. This is my future niece or nephew; I demand veto rights, especially over such poor judgement as this.”

Andie pointed her wand at the chocolate pot, which floated over and refilled Sirius’s cup.

“If it’s a boy, why don’t you name it after Nigel—I mean, Aeneas? He’d like that, and it’s not as if the name is in use any more….”

Gwen, with what Sirius had come to recognise as her Auror expression, frowned thoughtfully. “Hmmm. It’s a kind thought, and I do like Nigel, but there’s always the possibility that someone would hear the baby’s name and connect it to him. I am fairly certain he’d like that name to remain unused.”

A silence fell over the company as they all considered the problem. Then Sirius cleared his throat.

“We could call him James. If he’s a boy, I mean.”

Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Jonas shyly looked around at all the faces in the room: his new family. “I think that should be up to Harry. I am not sure I’d want someone else to have my father’s name. At least, not just yet.” He studiously gazed into his cup, afraid he’d said too much.

Harry fidgeted a bit, as all the eyes in the room turned to him. “I don’t know—it’s different for me. I never knew my dad at all, but I hear his name all the time, and sometimes that can be frustrating. It might be a good idea if people meant some whole new person when they said ‘James.’ OK, sure. Let’s name the baby James. If it’s a boy.”

He turned to Jonas, then, and gave him a grin. “But thanks for the thought. You know how it is, don’t you.”

Jonas grinned back. “I think so. I suppose it’s a newer thing for me; everyone is still afraid to say my family’s names when I’m around. And I like it that way—for now.”

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

On Christmas morning, along with all the other presents, identical books on child care were presented to the prospective fathers by their adoptive sons, with much grinning and smart-assery.

On the second of January, Remus and Sirius left for the Camargue, to prepare Jeanette and her little Pack, and ready the Potion ingredients. Sirius was in what Andie called a first-class dither: “You’ll let me know as soon as possible, if anything happens at Little Hangleton? I’m taking the brass cup. Andie, you and Jonas will stay here with them, won’t you? Harry, promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Gwen, …”

Remus took him by the arm and pulled him down the path.

On the fourth of January, Alastor Moody Apparated to the Hut at first light. “Get your wands. Now. We have a break in the pattern. Where’s Sirius?”

When they told him, he swore, worse than any jarvey Gwen had ever heard, and then shrugged stoically. “Well, we can’t wait for him. Harry, you and Gwen come with me. Somebody’s Apparated into the village for supplies, and we’re betting it’s Pettigrew. We can catch him if we’re fast.”

He turned to Andie and Jonas, sitting at the breakfast table silently, staring. “If you write to Black and Lupin, don’t tell them anything; at this point they’re better off not knowing. It’d only distract ‘em now, and I expect they’ll need their wits about ‘em for that job they’re doing down there. Stay here, will you? Be a good idea to have somebody to field messages.”

And then the three of them were out the door and gone, in a swirl of heavy cloaks.  The waiting was over, for everyone except Andie and Jonas.