Banish Misfortune

Chapter 15:

"Some person in authority, I don't know who, very likely the Astronomer Royal, has decided that…for such a beastly month as February, twenty-eight days, as a rule, are plenty." 
                                                                                     --W.S. Gilbert, "Pirates of Penzance"

The Forbidden Forest, 10 February: 

 

From shore, the surface of the lake appeared leaden grey, reflecting the overcast sky. The trees looked black in this light: scraggly tall evergreens that swayed in the wind. Short bursts of freezing rain spat down, disturbing the water in sporadic waves.

In the distance, on the far shore, a castle could be seen: huge, eccentric, crazily sprawling over acres of hilly ground, its pale stone walls seeming to rise naturally out of the hill:  a complicated, elaborate rock formation.

Padfoot watched from the shadow of the trees as an old man with a long white beard—Dumbledore— stood at the far lakeside, talking to a Merperson. Their shrill speech echoed over the water, heard and partly understood: they were discussing the spells necessary to allow people to sleep underwater, Padfoot thought. As a human, Sirius was not fluent in Mermish, but he had found that most non-human speech made sense to him when he was in his canine form. He left off eavesdropping and galloped away under the trees, keeping the shoreline in sight.

Sirius had been coming here for several days, making the rounds of the lake from the shore as Padfoot, and from the air, as a small falcon. He enjoyed his bird shape. Flying as a bird brought back many of the sensations of motorbike riding: speed—the wind in his face—the need for concentration, and that addictive rush of terror not usually attainable on a broomstick. Oh yes, flying really fast was a remedy for any number of ills.

As Padfoot, however, he was pleased enough to run through the forest reading the scents from the air and the ground, and the water. He didn't expect anything out of the ordinary for a week or two yet; these runs were more  for the purpose of becoming familiar with the terrain once again. It all came back quite easily. He'd known this Forest, and this lakeside, like the back of his hand, as a schoolboy.

 Once the full moon had passed, and he was back from Norway, he would stay here round the clock, to keep a constant watch. At present, though, he was sleeping in his father's shop in Edinburgh, in the little room behind the workroom.  This shop was a remarkable place, fascinating to wizards and Muggles alike. He wondered how Nigel had constructed things in there to achieve that effect: there were certain things, in plain sight to some, that were invisible or not noticed by others. His clients appeared to be both wizard and Muggle, and Nigel was at home dealing with both.

Sirius had not told Dumbledore about finding his father. He felt oddly protective, not just of Nigel, but of all the wizards he'd met here. They'd given a great deal to the first war against the Death Eaters: loved ones, reputations, trust—and had been given little or nothing in return. He was grateful to Zenobia for taking on the job of persuading them to resume what had been cruelly thankless tasks; she would be as gentle as anyone could be with them.

He was much happier, and more at ease, running alone through the Forbidden Forest.

His circle of "safe" people was growing: there was now the Armstrong house, where he was always welcome. There was Zenobia. There was his father, and Maria, and Maria's daughters Tamsin and Cordelia. Sort of adoptive sisters; they had been like daughters to Nigel for nearly fourteen years. All amazingly accepting, all friendly and understanding. He felt extremely lucky. All the same, running alone, free, was a joy, a luxury he had had to do without for a very long time. In the gloomy half-light, in the cold rain, among the strange, menacing trees, Padfoot was happy.

Padfoot decided to call it a day and Apparate home, but first, he would stop by Hagrid's for a pat on the head and a bite to eat. Dumbledore had told Hagrid to expect a huge black dog in the Forest, patrolling the lake.  So Padfoot made a habit of swinging by Hagrid's cabin each day that he visited; there was usually a meal in it—plus, he did enjoy Hagrid's company. Fang had twigged to his double identity immediately, but was quite understanding; he'd made no effort to tell Hagrid about it.

Padfoot circled the lake, leaped Hagrid's garden fence in a joyous burst of energy, achieved a splashy, slithery landing in the mud, and barked a greeting at the cottage door.

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

Folberg, 15 February:

In the sheltered, narrow valley at the tip of the fjord, rain dripped gently but steadily, straight down. Andie had put off going up to the barns; she stood on her kitchen steps, gazing down toward the water, her long red cloak providing a bright spot in a landscape dominated by muted browns and greens. She could just see the water through the trees, as grey as the sky. A red fox watched her from the shelter of the nearest tree.

"You are not going up to the goats today… this is a change."

Andie smiled at him. "I will go later; I am waiting for my family to come. You remember the Dog. He is coming this morning with our father, and I am happy. I want to be here when they arrive."

The fox blinked at her in surprise, and then laughed, a gleeful, silent fox-laugh. "Are you a cub then, waiting for your father? Will he feed you? My cubs grow older and speak to me when we meet, but they no longer wait for me. Humans are most entertaining. I must tell my vixen; she thinks I spend too much time watching humans, but she will enjoy this. Tell the Dog I will happily run with him, if he wants to come into the forest." Still chuckling, he moved silently back into the trees.

Andie watched him go, smiling, but at the same time acknowledging the truth of what the fox had said. She did feel a bit like a cub, or a small child; Remus had noticed, and said as much to her when they had returned from that first visit to Edinburgh. Well, she would have to work on that: she would do her best to be a friend to Nigel—a companionable, grownup daughter. An adult. She wondered if he saw her as a child still. She was still not sure what to call him: 'Dad' was what she thought sounded right, although Sirius had settled into using 'Nigel' most of the time. That had the advantage of acknowledging his new identity: his new life.

A shout, and Sirius's barking laugh sounded from the front of the cabin; she hurried down the steps and around the corner.

"We overshot just a bit; I was trying to keep Nigel out of the water! Not that it matters, what with the rain. Welcome to Folberg, Nigel: Andie and Remus try to make people believe that sometimes it doesn't rain here; don't you trust them."  Sirius picked himself up from the ground, brushing himself off and laughing at Nigel, who was swinging down from the branches of a small tree. "I suppose we're lucky we didn't land on the roof."

Andie kissed them both.  "I've been waiting for you; the animals will be wondering what's held me up. Walk up to the barns with me; you can help me carry hay."

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

As darkness gathered, the candles edged themselves out of their box one by one, lighted themselves, and floated over the kitchen table. The three Blacks had spent a pleasant if slightly damp day touring the school and its various buildings, meeting Remus for lunch, tending the animals, watching Erik's Marine Arts classes. Now Nigel watched, amused, as Andie and Sirius bickered amiably over preparations for tea.

Sirius was frowning at the first sandwich. "I promise you, I can't eat all that. If you wanted to make proper sandwiches, I'd have one, but you've turned Viking on us: your idea of a sandwich now is this gigantic pile of meat with a piece of bread under it. Just let me have a bit of bread and cheese; I'll be fine."

"No wonder you're so skinny; if you won't try, you'll never get your appetite back.  It's not healthy for you to have all your bones sticking out like that. I can't imagine why you're not ill. Fine, make your own sandwich; I'll do everyone else's."

Remus came in, dripping and laughing. "Hullo, Nigel, I see you've survived the day with these two. Is there food? I need strength. Jonas and Frode have been practicing Conjuring; they just now managed to produce a fairly realistic Centaur in my classroom, in the middle of my lecture on Confundus spells. Except that the only Centaur they've ever seen was a picture in a book, so it was only half there, sort of emerging from the wall, or trying to. They said they didn't mean to cause a disturbance in class; they hadn't expected it to work. When I think those two will be here for another six years.…"

Sirius grinned at him. "Takes you back, does it? I should think you'd be proud of them. We made some similar attempts, when we were about their age: you, me, and James, surely you remember? Except that we did monsters. Yours was a troll, and a pretty good one, too. You can't have forgotten: Peter nearly wet himself. He should have had the sense to notice that it wasn't moving."

Remus stopped in the act of hanging up his cloak, and turned to smile sheepishly at Sirius. "Oh lord, yes; I'd forgotten. You're telling me I deserve those two, aren't you?" He staggered dramatically across the room, sank feebly onto the sofa, and laid his hand over his heart. "Well, it's a bit damp tonight, but not really cold: do we want a run, or are we staying in, out of the rain?"

"A run," said Sirius. "As you say, the weather isn't really bad. It'll be fun."

 "Staying in," said Andie. "It isn't fair to invite Nigel for a visit, only to make him gallop through the wet, chasing after you two all night."

Sirius flapped a hand at her, dismissing her objection. "Oh, don't be such a baby; you know how great everything looks by moonlight—if we can see the moon. But things will look great in the forest anyway, and we won't run off and leave you. We'll wait for you, you'll see."

"Are you proposing a romp through the forest, is that what you do at the full moon?' Nigel was amused. "Well, I don't want to interfere with your traditions, but this fire seems very inviting just now. If the two of you want to go out after tea, why don't you do that; Andie and I will stay here and gossip."

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

 They spent the evening as Nigel suggested: Andie kissed Moony and Padfoot, opened the door for them and made an admonitory remark about not running through every mud puddle they saw. The canines set off into the forest, while Nigel and Andie turned to tidying up after the meal. Nigel shook his head, pulled out a chair and sat staring at the door.

"This falls into the huge category of things I didn't know about my children," he finally said. "Sirius: an Animagus since he was fifteen—and young Lupin was a werewolf. I never suspected! Remus stayed with us for short periods every summer—do you remember? And Sirius stayed with his family as well. Did you know about all this when you were little? The things I found out about were frightening enough.…" 

Andie searched her father's face for signs of disapproval, but saw only a look of bewilderment. "No, I only found out this past summer: they showed up at Remus's aunt and uncle's house in France, where I was working: Sirius was in his dog shape when I first met him. I think I do remember Remus, vaguely, from before. When we were children, I didn't notice anything unusual about him; he was just one of Sirius's friends. They generally ignored me and I tried to find ways to torment them; Remus was no different from the others. In my view, they were all horrible back then—they took Sirius's attention away from me, and I had to resort to desperate measures." She grinned evilly.

Nigel grinned back at her. "Yes, I remember some of your 'measures'! You had a flair for transfiguration, even as a very small child: spaghetti into wiggling snakes, toy kites into pterodactyls, peaceful afternoons into pandemonium.…" They laughed together, remembering.

"And those are just the ones you found out about; there were lots more. Do you mind very much, not knowing about things we did?" Andie asked, watching her father's hands as he toyed with items on the table.

"Not really; I mean, you've both survived, and grown into wonderful adults. I was probably saved quite a few grey hairs, not knowing everything. The whole Animagus project would have terrified me at the time; it's nothing for kids to mess about with! And Sirius having a werewolf for a best friend would have given me a turn… on the whole, I was probably better off not knowing." He looked up into his daughter's eyes, hesitating for a moment, then plunging on.

"The things I minded are the things I did know about: our separation, Sirius going to prison, your sad, terribly sad letters from school—those things. When you wrote and told me, your first year at Beauxbatons, that you had talked Madame Maxime into letting you spend Christmas at school… I minded that. Sirius did his best to make that Christmas at home a good one, but we both knew we were trying too hard." 

 He grinned suddenly, his expression remarkably like his daughter's: "Well, sweetheart, it's taken nearly twenty years, but I feel that I've finally won: the Black family fortunes have finally taken a turn for the better, haven't they? Sirius is free, you have a good relationship with a fine man, and I've found you both! In spite of everything, we're together, and you don't seem to hate me for the divorce. I was afraid you would, you know, whenever I thought about finding you somehow. I hope you and Sirius will be patient with me while I learn who you are."

Andie got up from the table and moved to the window, looking out into the darkness. "I'm afraid I'm just me, the same person I was when I was ten," she said softly. "I've been thinking about this quite a bit, lately. Ever since Sirius found you, I've been fighting the impulse to be a child again. I want to be a friend to you: an adult friend. But the moment I saw you, I had an overpowering urge to crawl into your lap."

She turned to face him, smiling, slightly embarrassed. "I'm actually in the process, myself, of learning who we all are.

"This is all rather new, this life I'm leading now; I'm hardly sure how to react to anything. As I said, I only found Remus and Sirius this summer. Sirius was—recovering, I suppose you could call it. Remus was taking care of him. And Remus was ill, himself. He was a real werewolf then; they don't live very long, you know. Their transformations become more and more difficult as they get older.… He was in constant pain." She shuddered, closed her eyes briefly, and pressed her fingers against her mouth.

"Anyway, by the August full moon, Sirius and I had come up with our plan to alter his Wolfsbane Potion, and use it along with a spell Sirius invented: I suppose he's told you about it. It was incredible: I've never seen such a spell. And it's worked, we believe. We hope. It's been six months now, and Remus can transform whenever he wants to, painlessly, and rationally, like any other Animagus. He's not compelled to change at the full moon, but he usually does, to please the Wolf. We've done all we can to make the Wolf feel happy and loved; the three of us act as a Pack when we're together."

She glanced at Nigel anxiously, hoping he would understand. "I know that sounds odd, but none of us really knew what we were doing, and it's a good mutual-aid system for all of us."

Nigel got up, opened two bottles of beer, and handed one to Andie. "I do see. It doesn't sound odd at all; it sounds brilliant. Sirius told me you were an expert on magical creatures. I'm so proud of both of you! And amazed at what you've done. Tell me the rest."

Andie took his hand and led him to the sofa. "All right; you've asked for it. Let's sit here by the fire and I'll try, and then it will be your turn." She picked up her knitting off the floor, and began winding the wool as they sat together.

"From France, we moved back into Remus's old home, to work on a project with an old friend, in the Farne Islands. Some time during the early Autumn, I began thinking of Remus as more than just a packmate. It took some blatant overtures on my part; he wasn't in the habit of flirting, and didn't catch on at first. Sirius finally told me it was a waste of time to be subtle! Werewolves, you see, don't expect that sort of attention, and they certainly don't seek it; they'd be found out, because of the scars….

"So, I backed him into a corner and told him I loved him, and said he'd just have to get used to it." She gave a gentle, ladylike simper, then a devilish grin. "He took it very well. I can't believe how happy we've been; it's like a fairy tale. I have no trouble at all, being an adult here with Remus." She turned to gaze into the fire for a few moments, collecting her thoughts.

"I love it here. There's lots to do: I'm in charge of all the school's herds now. I've made good friends here. Sirius comes up every full moon; we feel it's best to be together then.

"Sirius is getting better all the time—he's doing extremely well, even if things are not easy for him sometimes. As he gets more sure of himself, though, he and Remus have gone back more and more to what I suspect they were like at school. They're a bit less…careful, maybe… with each other, than they were when I first met them; willing to call up memories that aren't so painful any more, perhaps. At any rate, when the three of us are together, I often feel like the junior member.

"During full moons, like tonight, I'm a bit jealous of Moony and Padfoot—the canines. They love each other; they've had this incredible companionship in two shapes, ever since they were children. They have a whole set of memories together, good and bad, that I don't have. Oh, I certainly don't begrudge them! I'm sure that neither of them would even be alive but for the other one. And of course it's unreasonable to want even more than I already have.

"I'd never tell them what I've just told you; I know they'd be hurt. But every now and then, when I go out running with them, I feel like the tag-along little sister all over again: they have to wait for me, because I only have two legs; it's frustrating. If I weren't afraid of spoiling the whole thing, or of looking ridiculous, every now and then I'd treat them like the awful boys I thought they were when I was little. I know they love me; they always want me with them, and they're both dearer to me than I can express. But there are times when I feel that eight-year-old's urge to turn their boots into badgers, just because!"

She laughed, and turned to Nigel. "Only, this time, I'm glad I stayed home: you and I have several years of catching up to do."

Nigel laughed with her, set his bottle on the floor, and held out his arms. "You can crawl into my lap now, if you like," he said. "That used to work sometimes, when the big boys ran away from you." And so she did.

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

It was just a couple of hours away from the dawn when Moony and Padfoot returned, covered in mud, cold and wet, laughing. They transformed just inside the door, appearing in sodden, muddy cloaks and boots, shaking water from their hair like dogs, their words tumbling over each other: "We saw a Hulder!"  "She was gorgeous, really beautiful; she stared right at us. You could tell she knew we weren't really a dog and a wolf." "She tried to get us to change back; she wanted us to follow her, of course.…"  "She looked a little bit like Martine, that pretty blonde hair, but we noticed the wolf tail sticking out from under her skirt, and…." "Padfoot wanted to follow her, but I put my foot down; you really do need to be careful.…" "Yeah, he damn near took my ear off, look!  Is that bleeding?"

Andie tried to look stern. "You're filthy! You're both caked with mud! Stop right there! What did you do, wallow in it?" Suddenly, with a wicked light in her eye and a grin for Nigel, she pulled out her wand and pointed it firmly at her two Packmates, one after the other. "Vanesco Vestis!"

 The muddy clothes—all of them— vanished with a faint slurpy sound, leaving Sirius and Remus blinking at each other, wearing only bewildered expressions and a few smears of mud. There was a whoop of laughter from Nigel, followed, after a moment, by grins from the victims and a satisfied chuckle from Andie.

"There; I feel better now," she smiled. "Sirius, I was right this afternoon; you're much too skinny."

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Hogwarts, 21 February:

Three students stood staring out across the water, their cloaks wrapped tightly around them. A damp, cold, piercing wind blew towards them off the lake, blowing back the hoods of their cloaks and making them even colder. A small falcon huddled on the lowest branch of a nearby tree, unnoticed by the children.

"Filthy weather for a swim," said the tallest boy. "D'you reckon it will be any better on Friday?"

The shorter boy pulled his cloak tighter around his neck and answered, "Ha—with my luck, it will probably snow. I don't think I can face the library again just yet; why don't you two go on up; I'll be along in a minute."

The girl gave him a worried glance. "I don't suppose you've heard from Sirius, have you? He should have some good ideas.…"

"I didn't even ask him. Stupid, right? Oh well, it's too late now; he's probably too far away to send me any answers in time. I hope he's OK; I haven't heard from him in about a month."

The tall boy patted his friend on the back. "He's fine; it'd be in all the papers if he'd been caught. If he has any sense he's someplace warm, and not hanging around a beastly lake in Scotland. Come on, let's go in. We don't have to go right up to the library, let's go down to the kitchens and ask Dobby for something.…"

The three children turned away from the lake and headed back up the slope to the castle; the little falcon watched them go, then took flight, wheeling southward, away from the castle. He flew over the village, past the last buildings, then up the slope of a mountain to a cleft in the rocks. He transformed, taking the shape of a tall, thin man. He continued into the cleft, which widened into a sizable cave. At the back of the cave were some odds and ends of clothing, some old newspapers, a quill, ink, and bits of parchment. He reached for the quill, then hesitated.

He began pacing, as was his habit when he wanted to think. The sight of Harry and his friends had unnerved him: of course he should have expected such chance encounters. Harry did, after all, belong here; he was Sirius's whole reason for being here. But Harry had been worried: he had the next task to make it through, and he was having trouble. It involved the lake somehow, obviously. Sirius wanted to help, but he didn't know what the task was. And Harry hadn't asked. Had he forgotten, or had he just decided to do it all alone? Perhaps he simply hadn't thought about asking for help; Sirius had never been much help to him before.…

Should he write, offering to help? The task was three days away; there was still time. But what if Harry wanted to do this task all on his own? He was a very bright, resourceful kid; he could do it. Asking for help might seem like cheating, to him. No, Sirius would not try to interfere. But he would keep watch: he would be there. And, in spite of Dumbledore's wish that he stay away from Harry, he would talk to him. Perhaps a meeting would be useful, in light of all the strange things happening. Also, Harry shouldn't have to waste time worrying about Sirius when he had the Tournament to get through. A meeting would put Harry's mind at ease to that extent, anyway. And his own. Yes, he did want to see Harry. 

How should he arrange it? Not fire, this time. Face to face would be better, and it could be done: he'd just have to be careful. Perhaps Harry could meet him at the cave….

He reached for the quill and a scrap of parchment.

Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl.

In the morning, he'd send that. Just now, though, there was time for another circuit of the lake before darkness fell. He stepped out through the cleft in the rock, transformed into the sleek little falcon, and soared off to the north.