Banish Misfortune

Prologue, 1984:

 

Eyes that are sadder than sunset, or rain,
Fond heart that is ever more true,
Firm faith that grows firmer for watching in vain,
She waits by the slip-rails for you.    
                                                          --Banjo Paterson, “The Bush Girl”

Care of Magical Creatures.

A letter:

My Dear Dumbledore,

Thank you so very much for agreeing to allow my student, Andromeda, into your Enchanted Forest to conduct her research.  She will, I feel, be a credit to us both, although perhaps she will not appear likely to be so at first meeting.

She is a child very naive, very gauche. She has no time for social graces, no time for anything, truly, beyond her studies and her animals. She dresses like a stable lad, cannot dance, is hopeless at human languages.  Even after seven years here, she speaks French with a most regrettable English accent. Her mother sends her beautiful robes, very chic, which this girl uses to make nests for her badgers and ferrets.  In spite of her social ineptitude, however, she is not disliked by her classmates; perhaps the girls see her as no threat and the boys regard her as one of themselves-- who knows? I am sure she helps them all with their studies; she has always achieved top marks in all her classes. And truly, her accomplishments in Care of Magical Creatures classes have been most phenomenal. Since her first year here, she has acted more the role of an assistant to her instructors than that of student.

I understand that your Hogwarts Express only makes two trips a year; I shall send her to you in my own coach. Will 1 July be agreeable to you?

Most affectionately Yours,

Maxime

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

"Thank you, Sir, but Mr. Hagrid has made me most comfortable. He has invited me to stay in the shed beside his cottage, and I have enlarged the interior into two very pleasant rooms. I wouldn't wish to trouble the house elves at the castle; I am happy to attend to my own needs." Andie hoped Professor Dumbledore wouldn't be offended at her lack of interest in a castle room; she wanted to be as close to the Forest as possible, at all times. He didn't seem to be, though: his eyes twinkled and he gave her a very kind smile.

"Of course, my dear, stay anywhere you like, with Hagrid's approval. You do understand that many of the creatures here are dangerous, and must be approached with extreme caution, if at all. Hagrid will acquaint you with their ways and the best means of dealing with them; most of the animals that live here are personal friends of his." He looked down at the serious young face in front of him: he hoped she would use appropriate caution and not get herself eaten. She appeared intelligent, and came with Madame Maxime's glowing endorsement. He decided she would be all right.

"Of course I will rely on Mr Hagrid's advice; I have so much to learn about Forest creatures and their ways. At Beauxbatons, we had many acres of parkland, and fields and groves, which were very beautiful. They were inhabited by delightful creatures, who were good friends to me, but we had no actual wilderness. Only one Unicorn, and no Centaurs. I'm especially excited about living close to Centaurs; if I can learn anything that increases our knowledge of them I will be grateful." 

"Don't you worry about Miss Andromeda, Professor," rumbled Hagrid. "I spent the afternoon with her, helpin' her get settled like, and she'll do just fine. You don't meet many folks knows as much as she does about animals, or gets along with 'em like she can. She's met Fang, o' course, and a few of the birds around here, and some of the littler fellas, stoats and such. She's got formulas for a few potions I think I can use for treatin' some of our creatures. No magic involved, she says! Except what's in the ingredients already, which oughta be OK, don't you think, Professor?"

"That should be fine, Hagrid: it seems that Andromeda's stay here will be mutually beneficial. Well, I should be going. I will leave you to settle in properly; if there is anything you would like from the castle, I hope you will ask. Or tell Hagrid and he will know where to look."

“Thank you, Sir. And could I ask you both to call me Andie? My family called me that before my mother and I moved to France; it would be nice to hear it again."

"Andie. Yes, I shall be delighted to call you Andie; it suits you." He looked down at her: a small, sturdy young girl of eighteen, dressed in grey, with short, glossy black hair in loose curls, like the hair of a Newfoundland dog, he thought, smiling. Her pale blue eyes regarded him gravely. So earnest, so eager. She would do well under Hagrid's tutelage. Dumbledore turned back to the Castle.

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

Andie’s life soon revolved around the Forest and its hundreds of creatures, magical and otherwise. She met Unicorns (“just sit still, love, and he’ll lay his head in your lap”) deer, badgers, many kinds of birds, foxes—all of whom regarded her with cheerful acceptance from the very beginning. She spoke to many of them easily, to others with Hagrid’s kindly assistance. She grew comfortable asking him any questions, and felt happier than she had in all her years at Beauxbatons. They fell into the habit of eating meals together, taking turns cooking and washing up. They shared tales of their childhoods, their families or lack thereof. Hagrid asked her, once, about writing-- or not writing-- to her mother.

"My mother won't be interested in my animal studies; she's a bit uneasy about non-human creatures. That's the reason we went to France in the first place, you see, my dad’s mother was a Selkie: a seal-person. My mother’s afraid my older brother and I are too, well, animal-like. She tried to separate me from them when I was just ten, hoping I'd grow up less wild than my brother, but here I am in the Forest, and I couldn't live any other way. She writes to me a couple of times a year, but we're emotionally too far apart for there to be much understanding. For a long time I wrote to my dad in England, and my brother used to send me wonderful, funny letters about what he and his friends got up to-- but I haven't heard from either of them in over a year. I think they may have been killed by Death Eaters, in the struggles against You-Know-Who. My dad was fairly high up in the Ministry, I think, and my brother told me he was doing Auror's training. Whenever I send out owls to them, they just bring back the letters unopened. I know lots of people just disappeared-- I can't bear to read the news. So, I just do what I can, hope to do well, and make them proud of me if they ever return."

Andie did do well; though her work took up all of her waking hours she never felt overworked; she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. She trooped cheerfully along on Hagrid’s forays into the Forest, listening to all he told her and comparing his words with what she had read in her studies. The topic for discussion on this day was Dryads.

"Hagrid-- that tree's shadow just moved. Is that what we're looking for?"

"Yeah, that's her, right enough. She's a Dryad; her name's Chloe. She spends most of her time all the way inside the tree nowadays; she's gettin' shy, even of me. You don't want to look directly at her at first, an' you should wait till she speaks before you say anything to her. There's a fair few Dryads in this Forest, but there's sommat  goin' on with all of 'em-- they seem to spend more an' more time inside their trees and hardly ever get together for dancin' any more. That's Belinda's tree over there-- you can't even see the shadow, see?"

A voice like the wind sighing in the branches whispered, "Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked at the ground, smiling. "Afternoon, Chloe, old dear. Nice to see you out and about. This here's Andie; she's staying down at my place; she'd like to get to know the folk that lives hereabouts."

"Andie.  Are you new to the Forest, then?"

"Yes ma'am, I am." Andie too stared at the ground, hardly daring to move for excitement.  "I've finished my schooling in France, but Hagrid was kind enough to take me on here, as a student. We had no Forests near my school. " She paused a moment, then added, "Your tree is very beautiful."

"All trees are beautiful, and yes, especially this one. I chose it when I was just a zephyr. I...am pleased that you find it beautiful. Why do you have no forest near your school, in France? Are they savages there? "

Andie risked a glance upward, just long enough to see a shadowy, grave face superimposed on the tree trunk. "No, ma'am, not savages exactly, just very orderly. They do not allow trees to grow anywhere their seeds fall, but plant trees where they think the trees would present the most pleasing aspect, and also plant other things, flowers and shrubbery.  I realize that areas like that do not provide the permanence you require, but to most humans, such an area appears very beautiful, and safe." She took a deep breath, and went on. "I came here to escape such an ordered existence. This Forest appears to me much more wonderful. I hope to make myself welcome here. There is a great deal to learn, and Hagrid has been very patient with me."

"Hagrid is patient with all creatures.  He listens; he does not interfere. He treats us with dignity. And he is wise, as most humans are not. I think you will do well, learning from Hagrid."

Hagrid was blushing furiously. "Ah, Chloe, I'm nothin' special. Stands to reason folk would treat you with dignity; handsome lady like you. I was just tellin' Andie here a bit about you folk, what good dances an' all you have sometimes. Any chance of one of your caileys happenin' any time soon?"

"A dance beneath the moon would be lovely, but there is a reason.... There is no music. No music... " There was a ripple, as of wind in the leaves, and Chloe slipped inside her tree.

Hagrid and Andie stood for a moment, gazing at each other, then they walked on.

"Well, Andie, you handled that just right; that's the most conversation I've had from Chloe in a fair few months. I'm worried about that remark of hers, ‘No music’, though. That means Pan's gone off again, and there's no knowing where he's gone, or when he'll get back. He likes a pint now and then, and a bit of excitement, and goes off on the rantan, gets into trouble sometimes. Things are different now to when he was a lad, but he won't be told."

"Pan-- you mean Pan, the god? The one we read about? Who plays the pipes, and-- I had no idea he lived in Britain! Does he live here, in the Forest?" 

"Well, he's been here a while now: forty or fifty years, it must be. I was just a kiddie, first year at Hogwarts, when he moved up here. Said sommat about troubles in his own country. He's a great character, terr'ble with the women, but you see that sometimes in musicians. He's got a good heart and there ain't much he don't know."

"What are you going to do, if he's gone missing? Do we go looking for him?"

"Not to say go lookin' for him; that ain't respectful, somehow. We'll kinda put the word out, though; out on the edge of the Forest there's folk who'll know and maybe give him a lift home if he needs it. Goats, mainly."

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

The sun was shining: Andie removed her hat and replaced it to trap the hair more securely. Weeding the Muggle way, with this heavy hoe, was hot work. She stood in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the lovely Autumn day. It was mid-morning; a time when normally the students were all in classes. So, when Andie looked up and saw three small figures struggling towards her, carrying a school trunk between them, she stopped and walked over to the fence.

 

The two boys were obviously brothers; one was a bit taller than the other, but both had red hair, freckles and identical intent expressions. The little girl following them had the resigned air of an over-tried mother, though she was the smallest of the three.  The school trunk hissed, loudly. The taller boy set down his end rather hurriedly, and approached Andie. “Is Hagrid here?”

“Not just now; he’s collecting some creatures for one of your professors to use in a class. Can I help?”

“Well, it’s only… we’ve got a… I mean, Charlie’s got a …” The trunk hissed again, and the smaller boy opened the lid a crack and spoke soothingly to its interior. Andie climbed over the fence.

“If it’s an animal, I may be able to help you,” she said, as reassuringly as she could. She walked over to the trunk while the children exchanged worried looks. “I promise, I won’t turn you in, if you’re just trying to care for a creature.” She opened the lid cautiously, coming face to face with a pair of fierce yellow eyes in a furry, attractive face. The animal was the shape and size of a large housecat,  but its appearance proclaimed it to be immature: a very large, half-grown kitten.

“This is a young wildcat; how on earth did you get it in your trunk?”

“Charlie here found it by the lake yesterday evening and gave it a sandwich. It liked that and followed him back up to the dorms,” the older boy began.

“Not exactly ‘followed,’” put in the little girl. “Charlie had it wrapped up in his robe. Charlie’s daft for animals, and mostly they like him too, but he SHOULDN’T have, and now it’s really snappy, and ….”

“I think all it wants is some breakfast,” said Andie soothingly, “and possibly its mother.” She lifted the creature in her arms. “We’ll just go over to Hagrid’s and give it some leftover stew, then we’ll find out where its family is. Hagrid’s stew will be good for it, and maybe we can have some tea while you tell me more about this.”

Seated around Hagrid’s table, with reassuring cups of tea, the wild kitten making short work of the leftovers, Andie surveyed the three. “Aren’t you lot missing classes?  Not that you could do anything else,” she added, as wary looks appeared. “It was important to get this little fellow some attention. I imagine he’d wandered off from his mother to have a look at you; they’re always too inquisitive for their own good. If kittens went to school, they’d all be Gryffindors.” The three children grinned somewhat proudly; obviously this was their house, and they accepted the compliment, if that was what it was. The elder boy addressed her with more confidence.

“I’m Bill; second year. This is my little brother Charlie, animal-mad, and this here’s Tamsin, they’re first years but not TOO stupid. You weren’t here last year; what’s your name? Are you a teacher?”

"Are you Hagrid's sister? You look a bit like him, only lots smaller."

"NO, she can't be Hagrid's sister, she's not a giant. Is Hagrid your boyfriend then? Stop kicking me, Tamsin, I want to know."

She laughed. "My name’s Andie, and no, Hagrid's not my boyfriend: he's my teacher. I went to school in France, but came back here to learn about the Enchanted Forest. I'm lucky Hagrid took me on."

"I didn't know Hagrid was a teacher. He hasn't even been to school, has he? And he's not supposed to do magic; everyone says so."

“Well, the things I'm learning from Hagrid weren't taught in my school, and maybe aren't taught anywhere. All about how other creatures think, and how they live. You are right, he's not supposed to do magic. But he IS magic; he can't help being magic. I'm very glad to be here.” She turned to Charlie, who had left his chair and was on the floor beside the kitten, stroking its fur and talking softly to it. The kitten obviously enjoyed the attention, rubbing its head on Charlie’s shoes and purring.

 “Now, Charlie, I can see that you have an understanding with this little fellow; perhaps you’d like to come back some time, AFTER classes, and I can introduce you to the rest of his family. Honestly, he can’t live in your school trunk; he needs to learn his way about the Forest so that he can survive. This is his School, you know.”

“I suppose you’re right. Do you think when he goes back to his mother that he’ll remember me? And will his mother let him play with me sometimes?”  Another thought occurred to Charlie, possibly at the mention of the word ‘mother’: “Do you think he’s going to be in a lot of trouble for running off?”

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

Andie laughed as the three children ran up the slope towards the Castle. She’d seen the wildcat family, playing nearby on cool evenings. This kitten knew where it was. She took the kitten outside and watched as it stalked off purposefully into the trees. Then, with a contented sigh, she walked back out to the pumpkins, picked up her hoe and finished the last row of weeding.

Caring for plants with Muggle tools was a new experience for her; she found it pleasantly strenuous, satisfying in a way. She carried the hoe to the back of the garden, to Hagrid’s tiny tool shed, and opened the door.

This shed appeared, like all the outbuildings on the School grounds, to be much bigger on the inside than on the outside. She stood the hoe against the wall just inside the door with the other gardening implements, and drew out her wand to see what else might be stored here. “Lumos,” she said, looking around, squinting into the corners. Suddenly she gasped in astonishment: behind the stacks of poles, piles of odd bits of farm machinery, and an old plow, there stood …

A motorcycle, enormous, black, and beautiful. It was parked right against the rear of the shed.   Andie edged around the other objects and drew closer to the machine.  It was a magnificent thing: a tangle of tubes and fittings in its belly, gleaming and intricate, a black metal beast. She reached out a finger and touched the maker's name on the tank, arched gracefully in its gold banner. Instantly, the letters faded, and different letters appeared: “DOGSTAR”.  With trembling hands she closed and latched the door, and ran to find Hagrid.

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

“It's my brother’s. I watched him do the script charm; he’s good at those. He's the Dog Star, I mean, his name's Sirius! I remember, he'd just been given it before I had to leave. He said it was the best motorcycle ever, and it was a sacred trust or something with the Muggle who'd given it to him. I wanted a ride on it and he said no; he was still learning to control it. Did he give it to you? Are you keeping it for him? Do you KNOW WHERE HE IS?”

Hagrid stared at her, on his face a look of shock and concern. "Andie, love.... Sirius Black...he's your brother?  Andie, I don't know how to tell you this, so you'll just have to have it straight. He's in prison, love. Happened almost three years ago. He killed a whole street full of people, right after he’d turned over his best friend to be murdered by You-Know-Who. It was in all the papers. Folk reckon he'd been under the Imperius Curse or sommat.  Andie, hen, I'm sorry as I can be."

"I don't believe it." Andie fought to keep her voice steady. She thought for a moment, saying slowly, "He did get into trouble sometimes. He even got in some fights. But he had the best friends in the world; he said so. He wrote me about them. He'd never hurt them, or anyone he cared about. He wouldn't turn in his friends. He wouldn't. He always said getting punished was fair, and worth it for the fun he had. He wouldn't SNEAK, Hagrid! I don't think even the Imperius Curse would work with him; nobody could ever make Sirius do things he didn't want to do."  She took an unsteady breath, fighting tears. "But thanks for telling me. And thanks for being sorry." She turned away from him, walking down the path into the Forest. After a minute, she began to run.

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

She finally stopped, out of breath, and collapsed onto the moss at the side of the path. All the questions, shoved aside in the mindless need to run, came flooding into her mind. She tried to think coherently, to examine the information thrust upon her with some kind of calm. She turned over in her mind the memories she had of her brother, trying to match them to the idea that Sirius had killed people, had betrayed a friend to his death.

She had loved him, as little girls love a doting big brother: uncritically, shrieking delightedly when he teased her, chasing him through the house, once turning all his clothes into a pile of mucky straw on his bedroom floor in retaliation for something he’d done—she couldn’t remember what. When he discovered the mess, he’d roared with laughter, calling her a brilliant little witch. They’d been noisy children—she remembered screaming contests, trying to see who could scream the loudest, finally collapsing in giggles. A trial to their mother, they’d been called.

She hadn’t seen him in over seven years—could he change so much, from a wild, joyful source of fun and laughter, to a deceitful, murderous--  was that the evil of Voldemort, to change people like that? Could he have changed Sirius? Could anyone? Or had the evil been in him from the beginning, the thing their mother feared, the…  beastliness. Was it in her, Andie? For the first time in eight years, she wished her mother were with her.

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

Andie awakened chilly and damp, hearing Hagrid’s anxious growling and feeling Fang’s cold, wet nose snuffling at her ear. “Hagrid, I’m sorry I ran away,” she began, but he quietly handed her a cloak and said gruffly,

“Never mind, hen, you couldn’t have known what I was about to tell you; that’s the sort o’ news anyone would run away from, if they could. Maybe what we oughta do is go back home and I’ll make you a nice cuppa tea, maybe with a bit o’ rum. Shock like you’ve had, that’ll take some getting’ used to….We should get goin’, though, you ran a good five miles.” He reached down and put out his hand, pulling Andie gently onto her feet, when they both stopped to listen: someone was definitely approaching. They heard a shrill pipe playing snatches of a tune, and in between, a deep voice roaring out an old drinking song:

“It’ll turn your gold into silver, And your silver into brass,

It’ll make a man become a fool, and a fool become a…  Whoa, there, Lysander, there’s an obstruction here! What’s that there in the path?”

It was a very strange trio of travellers. The face Andie saw first was that of a goat: a large, black and white goat with a wise, humorous expression and enormous curling horns. Sitting on the goat’s back was a small, muscular man, dark, with heavy-lidded, slanting eyes, tight black curls falling over his forehead,  and pointed ears. In one hand he held he held a double flute, and in the other a bottle that he waved erratically. He swayed sideways, to be caught and steadied by—oh gosh—by a Centaur.  It regarded her with a calm, detached expression and said, “Hello, Hagrid, and human girl, friend of Hagrid’s. Why are you here?”

Why. She remembered. “Well, sir, I had some news which made me very sad. I ran away from Hagrid’s cottage so I could be alone to think, and I must have fallen asleep here; I didn’t mean to.” She glanced up at Hagrid, but he said nothing, only surveyed the scene benevolently and gave her an encouraging smile.

The man on the goat’s back seemed to notice her for the first time. When he spoke, she realized it was he who’d been singing. “A human girl? A friend of Hagrid’s? You look like the shepherd girls in my home country. Fancy a drink, pretty? A drink, and dancing, a little fun, that’s what you need. Forget your troubles. Drive away your sadness. One as young and fair as you should never be sad. Come with us, we’ll find some good times.” He slid down from the goat’s back, and took a step towards her, an odd, mincing step.

She looked down at his feet and caught her breath: the lower half of his body was the body of a goat: powerful-looking, shaggy haunches, slim legs and dainty hoofs. She looked back up at his face, his beautiful, sad eyes above a knowing, mocking smile. She felt the power, the pull of his will. A mad desire to go with him, to touch him, to watch his beautiful hands as he played his flute, to laugh and dance, arose in her mind. This was Pan, and this was his power.

Andie became aware that she was still holding Hagrid’s hand. “I’m sorry, Sir; I would not be able to enjoy myself tonight, drinking or dancing. Lumos,” she added, taking out her wand. She felt the need of light.

Hagrid finally spoke. “If you don’t mind me sayin’ so, your honour, you could use a good night’s sleep too. I hope you haven’t been down in some Muggle pub, makin’ a name for yourself. Folk might take it into their heads to chase you away, if you was to interfere with their girls or cause too much trouble.” He glanced anxiously down at the Centaur, who gave a very brief smile and shook his head slightly.

Pan seemed not to take offense at Hagrid’s words; he replied softly, “Never fear, Hagrid, my young friend; I have only been visiting with two old shepherds in the hill country, musicians like myself; sharing many bottles, exchanging tunes and stories of our young days. After a while, we remembered only the happy times. This,” he said, turning to Andie, “is what you need. Some music, some companionship,” his mocking smile reappeared, “and what’s in this bottle! The sadness will melt away and you will be happy again!”

“Will a drink and a good time release my brother from prison? I wish it could. I don’t think I would be able to forget him in any case, nor would I want to. Some day, perhaps, I will be able to help him in some way, and I need to be ready.” She gripped Hagrid’s hand more tightly, and hung her head, feeling very small, and young, and lost. Fang, perhaps sensing this, pressed against her side.

 “A wise decision, Human Girl,” said the Centaur softly. “Mindless oblivion will not ease your sadness. There is peace in the world at present, among your kind, but all are touched by the violence and evil that has ended. Remembering the sadness will enable your people to amend some of the evil. It is a time of sadness: of deceit, of suspicion, of great injustice.”

“Injustice? I am almost hoping for injustice. My brother is in prison; they tell me he is a murderer, but I do not see how he can be. I never knew him to be evil, so all I have to hope for is that his imprisonment is unjust.”

“To be in prison, to be confined by members of one’s own kind, is an abomination. Humans are primitive. We do not often have dealings with your kind, there is nothing we wish to learn from such creatures. Hagrid says you are different; more like other creatures here. I think you must remember your brother; injustice is in greater evidence in the stars presently than violence. I do not know whether your brother has murdered anyone, but being confined, he must be miserable, and that alone is cause to remember him. You can do nothing for him presently except to remember him, and do your work.”

“My work. I am hoping to increase the understanding of my people regarding other magical creatures, but I find that my own understanding is so small that I despair of ever learning enough.”

“You will increase your understanding daily, if you continue learning from Hagrid. He will bring you to meet and speak with my kind soon. We have promised him to help with your training.”

Training from the Centaurs! Andie could hardly speak. She glanced up at Hagrid, who smiled and nodded. “You are so kind—I hardly know how to thank you. This is a great and unexpected favour.”

“Yes; Hagrid tells us you are suitable; that we will not be wasting our time. Go home now, rest, think on your sadness and grow accustomed to it. I will take my old friend here,” he smiled gently as he helped Pan back up onto the goat’s back, “to find a quiet place to recover from his excesses. I believe there will be music in the Forest, in a night or two. Gee up, Lysander.”

The little group left the path and wandered off through the trees, and Andie stood watching them. Her heart was full of such a jumble of emotions that she could hardly move.

“Well, that’s that,” rumbled Hagrid. “Coulda been a lot worse; you never know what Pan can get up to. He’s in good hands now, though.  It’s time we started back, too; didn’t I mention a nice cuppa tea? Maybe with sommat stronger?”

Andie lifted her head, took a deep breath, and tried a smile, with moderate success. “I wouldn’t say no,” she replied.