Banish Misfortune

Chapter 6: 

"Personal is not the same as important."  --Terry Pratchett

 21 October:

He stepped out of the shower, opened the window a bit to let out the steam, and picked up his towel. The room was a bit brighter than it had always been—not a new enough change to be a surprise, but still new enough to notice: there was a small mirror over the washbasin in his bathroom. Their bathroom. It had been there since yesterday.

It had never occurred to Remus to put a mirror in his house; he was one of those wizards whose appearance didn't change much. His face didn't produce a beard; his hair was always roughly the same length, despite haircuts or lack thereof. Sirius, his only guest for years, had never cared.

But now there was also Andie.  Andie wasn't especially vain, but she had insisted that bathrooms had to have a mirror, and had bought one. She'd said, "How will you know if you have spinach on your teeth?"

Remus grinned at the memory, wiped the condensation off the mirror, and bared his teeth. No spinach. The mirror said, "Suppose your face froze like that!" He laughed, and stared at his reflection for a moment. Nothing spectacular: straight, heavy brown hair, going grey, dark now because wet. High forehead. Long, thin face, long, thin nose. Thick, bushy eyebrows. Eyes a nondescript colour people called hazel; sort of greenish tan, to be honest. Dark circles under his eyes.  The mirror said, in Andie's voice, "Remember, I love you." He blinked in surprise, smiled, blushed, and finished dressing. He'd better watch out for that mirror.

The thing was, it was true, what the mirror had said. She did love him. She'd said so, in a matter-of-fact, offhandedly honest sort of way that was like being hit with half a brick: no chance of doubts or misunderstanding. Furthermore, he loved her, with a joy and fearlessness that almost shocked him. The implications were mind-boggling. Remus had never really expected happiness, never considered a future. Nothing in his past experience had prepared him for this: a straightforward, common or garden-variety love affair with his best friend's little sister. What with one thing and another, his life had always been much more complicated.

 He was looking forward to a bit of simplicity. And food. A promising mix of laughter, voices and mild clattering noises sounded through the door. The rest of his Pack were obviously cooking. Remus went into the kitchen, conscious for a moment that these two people were more important to him than anything on earth. He was also conscious that they might just have breakfast ready.

Andie and Sirius looked up when he came in, giving him uncannily similar grins. They were built along different lines—Sirius tall and thin, Andie short and compact. In all else, however, they were very much alike: their glossy black hair, angular features, and blue eyes proclaimed them to be siblings. Their shared mannerisms—that trick of raising one eyebrow, their easy laughter, their directness—spoke of their mental closeness. They greeted him in unison: "You can make the toast." 

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The owl arrived midway through breakfast, as owls usually did: a magnificent snowy owl, tapping at the window. Sirius directed the window to open and moved his cup out of the way, saying, "Hello, Hedwig," but this owl chose to land beside Remus. As it did so, they could tell that this was not Hedwig: it was even bigger, and had more brown in its feathers.

It held out its leg so that Remus could remove the letter, and helped itself to his sausages.

Remus sat frowning at his letter. Andie and Sirius sat patiently—for them—waiting for some comment and getting none. At last, Sirius got up and moved around behind Remus, reading over his shoulder.

 "Folberg School? Norway?" Sirius raised both eyebrows. "Folberg's a famous old school; we played their Quidditch team a couple of times and it's beautiful there." He looked over at Andie. "It's from Folberg's headmaster, Andreas Morsom. He wants Remus to take a post as a replacement for their Education in Dark Arts instructor. ‘Recommended by Dumbledore'—of course—‘understand you have a family; cabin for your use on the grounds.' He can teach in English if he wants; all students there are fluent in English." Sirius continued reading. "They don't even care if he's a werewolf: Norwegian forests are full of ice wolves and all the students are expected to know how to protect themselves." Suddenly he stopped reading aloud and frowned down at the letter.

Andie took the letter from Remus's hand and gave them both a contemptuous look. "So much for sharing all the news—what is it that you don't want to read to me?" She glanced through the letter.  "Oh." 

She looked up at her Pack, who said nothing. "So the previous Dark Arts teacher was murdered. Sporting of them to tell you. And they know there's Dark activity in the school itself, almost certainly something to do with the teacher's death. What was Dumbledore thinking, to suggest you for a position in a mare's nest like this?"

Sirius looked mildly indignant on Remus's behalf. "He was thinking they needed somebody who could teach, and think, and take care of himself! Remus is very, very good at what he does; he doesn't lose his head, and he knows how to do all sorts of things that scare me stiff. I'm not saying he should go," he said hurriedly, as he saw Andie's lips tighten. "I'm just saying Remus would be the one I'd want by me, if I had a situation like that to deal with.  If I were that headmaster I'd be begging for somebody like Remus."

Andie began a long and voluble reply; Remus was only half listening. He looked around him at the newly constructed stone wall with its arched doorway, dividing his kitchen from the bedroom/sitting room. At the door leading to the new, tiny bedroom Sirius had made for himself off the side of the kitchen. It had been fun, both the planning and the work—and the inevitable horseplay. Just yesterday the three of them had summoned all the stones from the surrounding hillsides and had a wonderful if slightly dangerous time, trying to see how many stones they could hold in the air at one time, trying to steal stones from each other.  Andie had finally tired of the silliness, told him and Sirius they were reverting to adolescence, rolled her eyes at them and Disapparated off to Hogsmeade for her mirror. But the work had turned out well: it was a fine, friendly, good-looking, cosy house. Home.

Winter in Norway. How long would it be without any sun at all: two weeks? Longer? He didn't know how far north Folberg was. Andreas wanted him to come, that much was clear. He owed Andreas a favour, certainly. The situation there sounded intriguing. Plus, it was a job. He'd be doing something worthwhile. Such a chance was not to be regarded lightly. Fancy Andreas as headmaster of a school; he must have settled down quite a bit.

But Remus didn't want to face a winter without the Pack—a winter without Andie. In addition, considering the Wolf, he didn't know how much trouble he would have, enduring full moons alone. It would be too much to ask, to expect her to come to Folberg with him. Sirius couldn't come: he was committed to staying close to Hogwarts, because of Harry. Remus mentally composed a letter of refusal to Andreas: "Sorry; I would like to help but I can't bear the thought of leaving home…" Unacceptable.

Sirius and Andie had apparently settled whatever they'd been bickering about; he was aware that they were watching him. Remus felt the muscles across his shoulders tensing into painful knots. He sighed in resignation. This was life as he knew it: difficult, complicated. He took a deep breath, rubbed the back of his neck. "I should go," he said. "Andreas is someone I knew in Romania; he helped me out of a very tight spot once, when I needed help and didn't really expect any. I should go."

Andie searched his face anxiously for a clue to his thoughts. He was plainly unhappy—did he want to go, or not? Did he want her to talk him out of going? That didn't seem likely; it would be un-Remus-like for him to play that sort of game. Did he want her to come to Norway with him? Oh, she hoped so. Would he ask her? Maybe not, if he thought she didn't want to go—and she'd just been arguing against his going. Hoping that she was guessing right, she decided to save him the trouble of having to ask.

"We don't seem to be destined for a quiet home life, do we? Never mind, dearest. All my objections only meant that I don't want you hurt. Don't look so worried: I certainly wouldn't stop you going. But I am coming along, no matter what you say. What's an ice wolf?"

He stared at her, hardly daring to believe he'd heard her correctly. A smile, slow and tentative, began to form. "You really want to come with me? For the whole school term?" At her answering grin, relief poured over Remus, warming him, loosening the knots.

Sirius watched his friend's face with amusement. "Surely you didn't think you could escape Andie's attentions just by running off to Norway. Persistence runs in our family; we're both famous for it. She's not likely to let you go off alone to be eaten by ice wolves—what is an ice wolf, by the way?"

The owl moved as close as it could to Remus and glared into his eyes expectantly; clearly an answer was required. Andie looked around and said, "Where's a quill?"

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"Of course I'll miss you, idiot—but I'll be fine, and very busy. I'll be in Hogwarts forest most of the time, or with Dumbledore. In any case, I'll be up at Folberg every full moon, purely for ceremonial reasons." Sirius surveyed his Pack, who were helping him stow provisions in the cupboards. Andie had pointed out that he could hardly go into Hogsmeade and do his own shopping, so the three of them—Andie, Remus and Padfoot— had gone on a major shopping spree, laying in supplies that would have done justice to an Antarctic mission.

He realised that Andie had stopped listening to him, so he grinned and added, "Plus, it'll get you out from underfoot: I'll be able to walk through the house without tripping over lovestruck siblings. Mind you don't drop that."

Andie had stopped halfway across the room, a bag of sugar in her hand and a look of tenderness in her eyes, watching Remus lifting boxes onto the table. The way his hair fell into his eyes as he reached down; the curve of his spine; his thin fingers as they curled around the corners of the box; all held her spellbound. She watched him as if she had never seen another human being before. He appeared to her incredibly beautiful, an amazing creature. She loved him.

Sirius knew she would have been content to stand and gaze at Remus all day; he recognised the symptoms. With a rush of affection for her, he set down his own boxes, wrapped her in a long-armed bear hug and kissed her on the forehead. "The fact is, little sister, you and Remus could use a bit of time to yourselves—‘cabin for your use' sounds just the thing."

Remus laughed and stopped his work. "It's clear you've never taught school, my friend, if you think we'll get any time to ourselves. There'll be a horde of hormone-driven adolescents buzzing absolutely everywhere, all keen for a bit of informal education. I don't know how Folberg is organised, but it's even money that our ‘cabin' abuts on a dormitory that I'll have to patrol, or something equally grim. I envision us chastely holding hands for the rest of this year, and that only on Saturdays."

Andie wriggled free of Sirius and walked slowly, deliberately, playfully over to Remus, swaying on the balls of her feet like a dancer. She took him by the shoulders, pulled him into a close embrace, and kissed him, thoroughly, unchastely.  "I certainly don't envision any such fate for us, but if it comes to that, I'll hold your hand with pleasure. I've sunk so low that I'd be perfectly content to wave at you across the room, if you'd only wave back."

Remus tried to think of an answer to this, but before one came to him, an owl flew into the room. It lighted down onto the boxes stacked on the table, swivelling its head around to glare at Andie. It held out its leg. Reluctantly, she released Remus and took the letter.

"It's from Dumbledore; it's… a job offer!" Andie held the letter gingerly. "What on earth am I supposed to do with this?"  She read further. "Well, maybe it's not as bad as I thought: it's only for three weeks, and it sounds rather interesting. In fact, it sounds great: he wants me to go to Wales and oversee the transport of a dragon—a dragon!—to Hogwarts for use in some sort of competition, then to stay for the competition itself and make sure the dragons—plural—are humanely treated. How cool: to have a chance to talk to dragons! Then to assist with the transport of the Welsh one back to its home. What do you suppose this is all in aid of?"

Remus and Sirius stared at each other, baffled. "Dragons certainly weren't featured in the curriculum when we were at school," said Remus, frowning. "A competition, did you say? Should be exciting, especially with dragons, plural. When does it take place?"

"We needn't worry about that, I think," said Andie, "it's not till the end of November. I can go up to Folberg with you and get settled, then come down to Wales, it says, um, the fifteenth. Wait a minute, the fifteenth—that won't do. I can't be in Wales during the full moon, and that'll be the eighteenth, won't it?"

It was Remus's turn to guess how to proceed, but he thought he knew what needed saying. She had been excited about the prospect of working with dragons, but now was biting her lip doubtfully. She wanted to go to Wales, he decided, with amazement. She was so small; a dragon could crush her into the ground and not even notice. The thought terrified him. 

"Of course you can be in Wales during the full moon," he said. "If they're using these animals in a competition, there'll be risk to them, and you should be there. I don't know of many people who could do your job. There'll be handlers, of course, but they won't have your skill at healing or communication. I'll miss you—that's going to be true, full moon or no—but this sounds important. I love you all the more for being good at your job, even though I would far rather have you sitting in Norway holding my hand." Apprehensively, he watched her, hoping he'd said the right thing.

Sirius put an arm around her shoulders, nodding to Remus approvingly. "He's right, you know.  I saw your eyes light up at the thought of dragons; it'll be huge fun for you. I'll go up to Folberg and hold Remus's hand for you on the eighteenth, and then when you get your dragon to Hogwarts you and I can have a visit.

"I think I see what Dumbledore's up to here—he's just trying to see what we can do, both as a team and as individuals. It was his idea for us all to go monster-hunting together, and I'm sure he was behind that letter from Folberg. Now there's this—and I'm beginning to wonder what surprises he has in mind for me."

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A Letter, 28 October:

Dear Sirius,

Well, it's been a busy four days, but you were right: Folberg is a beautiful school! It's much smaller than I was expecting—only 80 students altogether, aged 12 through 18, grouped according to age in seven little wooden dormitories on the edge of the forest. Each one already has a house parent, and in some cases two, much to Remus's relief. (I think he really did envision us just holding hands this year!)  There's a little dining hall, and three or four larger buildings for classes. Along the edge of the water are the cabins for the teachers and their families, all separated by little stands of trees. You'd never know it was a school; it's more like a little village with its scattered cabins and paths running between them. We are located at the tip of a fjord, in a narrow valley with huge mountains on either side. The trees are of several kinds; I was expecting only evergreens. Did you know Whomping Willows are Norwegian? There's a grove of them not far from here.

Everyone here so far has been very friendly, and they do nearly all speak English. Remus seems very pleased with his classes; he says the course outlines he was given are good ones. The children are fascinated by his ability to transform, although some of the littler ones are afraid of the Wolf. (The Wolf, by the way, loves it here. He runs away from me into the forest, runs back in great circles, jumps and plays and makes people laugh.)

 Nobody has yet mentioned the Dark activity, or the former teacher, but Andreas has asked us not to tell anyone that he knew Remus before. 

You probably already know this, but I didn't: Remus is a magical linguist. His Norwegian was quite adequate after about three hours here. He can now tell jokes, tease the students: I stand in awe. I am so stupid with languages. My chief confidante so far has been a wonderful red fox, a resourceful, humorous fellow with a great tolerance for the children. He says this is a funny place; he likes it. He's impressed that my ‘mate' is a Wolf: he says he respects wolves. His own mate is somewhere close by, but she's a bit shy of all the activity and doesn't come near the school very often.

There are students here from Norway and Sweden, a few from Finland and Russia, and a sizeable number from the Sami lands. All are quite respectful, but it's the custom here for everyone, staff and students, to address each other by first names. Apparently most wizarding families in this part of the world don't have proper surnames; they are further removed, culturally, from Muggles than we are. They make up nicknames or titles for themselves to use as surnames when they need one.

Andreas's surname is one his friends invented for him when he started school; it means ‘funny' or ‘amusing'.  He is a very funny man: huge, blond, slow of speech and always teasing.  He and Remus seem quite fond of each other; they met years ago in Romania, under circumstances I haven't quite got to the bottom of, yet. It had something to do with Remus almost being caught by a mob of irate farmers when he was a Wolf, and Andreas covering for him somehow. It sounded terrifying, but they both think it was quite hilarious. Males… inscrutable.

Has Dumbledore given you your marching orders? Surely he'll want you to stay close by for Harry's sake. Does he have anything to say about this competition that's coming up? I can't imagine what it will be like.

Remus sends his love, and says try to fix it so you can stay a few days if you still plan to come up on the eighteenth. I hope you can do that; this dispersal of the Pack is something I don't entirely approve of. I feel quite selfish, being so happy here with him, loving him so much, while you are fending for yourself at home. Do look after yourself; don't forget to eat, be CAREFUL—we love you.

Andie

Sirius folded the letter pensively and tucked it away in a pocket. A letter. Such things were still enough of a novelty that they were to be cherished. He had cooked some sausages, and had been idly feeding them one by one to Buckbeak as they sat together on the front doorstep. Mindful of the loving admonitions at the end of his letter, he obediently ate one, himself. It was cold and overcast; it looked like rain. Sirius had not yet noticed. His thoughts were not on his immediate surroundings.

He was lonely; he missed them. After seeing them off with jokes and laughter, he'd spent his first night alone as Padfoot, curled forlornly on their bed. Sirius knew about loneliness: he'd been hopelessly, despairingly lonely during his years in prison. But there should, he thought, be a different word for this present feeling. Imagining Remus and Andie together in such beautiful surroundings, knowing they were happy— knowing they cared for him and thought of him with fondness made all the difference. It was a different loneliness than before: almost a kind of happiness.

There should be a use for such a feeling. He leaned into this new loneliness, tasting, exploring it, trying out the idea of solitary life, being a lone creature. A wolf, howling across the miles to his companions. A tiger, stalking through the forest, happy in his solitude…A falcon. A small, fierce, inconspicuous falcon—a merlin, perhaps. Sirius retreated into everything he knew and felt about birds of prey. Their motion-sensitive, carnivorous, hunter's thoughts. The way a falcon's muscles would feel: the things a falcon could see. He pushed off sharply from the ground, beating the air rhythmically with his long, powerful wings. He pulled himself into the air—felt the wind rushing over his feathers. Felt his body shear through the air as he rose. He scanned the earth as it sank beneath him. He adjusted the angle of his wings, riding air currents, soaring higher. He flew up the valley, following the line of trees for several miles, then wheeled majestically and flew back.

Someone was walking up the path to the door of the Hut. He swooped down onto the doorstep and became Sirius again, waiting.

"Most impressive," said the Headmaster. "I haven't seen anyone do that for a very, very long time. Is this the first time you've flown?"

"I was lonely," he replied, nodding.

"Ah: that explains it. In fact, that is the reason I first found myself flying. I have been expecting something of this nature from you: in many ways you remind me of myself when I was very young. It is mainly a matter of realising what you are doing. We should talk about this soon, but just now, I would like to see you try it again. It should be even easier this time."

The falcon soared off into the clouds, accompanied by a huge golden eagle, all explanations postponed.

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A Letter, 1 November:

Dear Sirius,

You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, so here goes—I don't know if you've heard, but the Triwizard Tournament's happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion. I don't know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn't. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff.

I hope you're OK, and Buckbeak—Harry.

Well, here was a problem—or a whole nest of problems. The Triwizard Tournament! Sirius couldn't remember when the last one had been held: hundreds of years ago, perhaps. Why this year? Whose idea was this? It explained Andie's dragons; there had always been extremely dangerous tasks devised for the Tournaments. But to have Harry entered as a champion was disturbing, to say the least.

Harry: what a super kid, so like James it was almost frightening. Sirius reread the letter, smiling at the round, schoolboy penmanship, but hearing the anxiety in the words as clearly as if Harry were speaking to him. He remembered his only encounter with Harry, at the beginning of summer, that night in the Shrieking Shack and later, when Harry had flown up to the window on Buckbeak and freed him. What a fierce anger he'd shown; what determination to avenge his parents and protect his friends. No thought spared for his own safety. But along with that courage, he'd shown a sense of fairness incredible in one so young, listening to Remus and finally accepting Sirius's innocence. So like James.

Thoughts of James threatened to overwhelm him; nothing to be gained by going there. He closed his eyes and forced his mind back to the present. This wasn't James, it was Harry: he was worried and looking to him, Sirius, for reassurance. Where should he begin? Cautioning a fourteen-year-old to be careful would be a waste of time, of course, but it had to be done. The problem to be faced first was the fact that Sirius didn't know, yet, what to caution him against. 

He got up and paced impatiently around the sitting room, wondering what to tell Harry, wondering how to find out what was actually going on. Dumbledore should be able to shed some light, if anyone could. He would write—no, he wouldn't. He would damn well just drop in on him, the way Dumbledore was always doing to other people. Dumbledore's rooms were at the top of the northernmost tower of the castle; it shouldn't be a problem to find that from the outside. He walked outside and down the path, Protected the Hut, and spread his wings.

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"So Karkaroff is Durmstrang's headmaster? How can they allow that? Don't they know what he is? Do people really want their kids to be in his care?" Sirius sat with his hands clasped, elbows on Albus's table, frowning with confusion. "I saw him, heard him, in Azkaban; so did lots of other people. I can't believe anyone would put him into a school!"

"It does seem extremely unwise. I can only surmise that he submitted false credentials to the authorities in charge of hiring. Durmstrang does have a much more accepting policy towards the practice of the Dark Arts than many schools, but I don't believe they would knowingly hire a Death Eater as headmaster."  Albus shook his head, looking for a moment like the very old man he was. His sombre expression soon brightened, however, and he changed the subject.

"I am happy to hear that Remus has taken the position at Folberg; the situation there is somewhat delicate. Andreas suspects another teacher, or teachers, of wanting to sabotage the school, perhaps to close it. There was some opposition to his being made headmaster: he is quite young, and has a reputation for, shall we say, independent thinking. He changed a number of old and cherished (and very silly) traditions when he took the job, and aroused the resentment of some of the faculty.

"The beauty of Remus's appointment there is that Andreas himself did not suggest him: I was contacted by the Norwegian Ministry of Magic's education supervisor. I submitted Remus's name, and Andreas was ordered to write to him. So as far as the rest of the staff there are concerned, Remus is an unknown quantity, and may be able to gain some information that way."

Sirius chuckled. "Albus, how is it that you know gossip from Norway? I believe you know everyone in the world."

Albus smiled gently. "Sometimes it even seems so to me, and yet so many things go on that escape my notice. To answer your question: Folberg's former headmistress was a very dear friend. She knew she was dying, and did everything she could to secure her position for young Andreas; she knew the school needed a thorough shaking up. It wasn't easy: he had done some very unsettling things. He'd done a bit of work with the Shamans, up in the Sami lands, which established wizarding families further south certainly didn't approve of. He'd opened a line of communication with the giants in Norway's northern mountains, and, fortunately for Remus, had travelled to Romania to study werewolves' habits. He submitted his results to the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, urging more study to be done in the field. He's never done anything openly revolutionary, but he has a reputation for being unsafe and ill-considered."

"Sounds like Remus could very well do some good there. Andie, as you know, will be going to Wales to bring you your dragon—and that brings me back to my original question. What am I to do here, to help protect Harry? Do you see any chance for me to meet with him? This news of his being entered in the Triwizard Tournament was disturbing, I'm sure you agree. He's unsure what to do; he hasn't asked for help but I can tell he's worried. Shall I write to him, and if so, what should I tell him? Have you any idea who's behind this?"

"I think we must assume that some agent of Voldemort's has managed to enter Harry in the Tournament, hoping he will be killed. This implies a person of considerable skill, and a person in residence at Hogwarts presently. Beyond that I have no ideas. There are some missing pieces to this puzzle, however: if we knew the whereabouts of Bertha Jorkins, Peter Pettigrew, or Voldemort himself, we might be closer to an answer. Are you willing to do some searching?"

"Just point me to where you think I should look. I have a couple of weeks before I visit Remus; I told him I'd be up there for a while around the eighteenth."