Banish Misfortune

Chapter 16:

And when I'm far upon the sea, you'll know not where I am,
Kind letters I will write to you from every foreign land,
The secrets of your heart, dear girl, are the best of my good  will,
So let my body be where it might, my heart will be with you still.
                –trad: "Adieu Sweet Lovely Nancy"

Edinburgh, 25 February:

Pete and Sirius turned the corner and made for the door of the pub. "It'll be a grand session tonight; our band will all be there, and so will Archie and Fred, and a bunch of others. I told Tam about it, but she and Maria have some meeting they go to; they may come in later with Nigel.

"It's a farewell party. We're off on our big tour tomorrow, back to America and Canada; it's amazing, how much money you can make in America, playing our music around St Patrick's Day! Then Hong Kong and Australia. Ten weeks, fifty gigs. I can't wait, but Jimmy's done it all before and he's in his usual before-tour lather. He does all the visas and plane reservations and hotel stuff, and it changes right down to the time we leave. Plus, every long trip now, he feels worse and worse about leaving Liz and the girls… yeah, ten weeks is a long time."

Pete chattered amiably on; Sirius listened contentedly. Pete's world was a new one to him; he enjoyed the tales as much as Pete enjoyed talking.

 In front of the pub, Pete stopped before pushing the door open and turned thoughtfully to Sirius. "You know, I think I must be where Jimmy was ten years ago: I couldn't understand back then why he thought it was such an ordeal to go off on these lovely trips. I do want to go, no question, but now there's Tam to think about. I'm beginning to feel the fear." He laughed, a shade too loudly, and opened the door.

The place was crowded. Their arrival was hailed with shouts of welcome in a number of accents, and raucous laughter from a dozen different throats.

"Pete! Come over here, lad!  Where's Jimmy?"

"He'll be along when he gets the girls to bed. Our dad's in town, to help Lizzie while we're gone, so I don't know whether he'll be coming down too, or it may be Liz."

"You should have been here last week with him—I swear to Christ, Pete, your Jimmy's the best there is! Didn't he tell you about last week? Typical. Wait till you hear!"

At the back of the long, narrow room, two fiddles, a guitar, and a flute raced through a tune. Other musicians, holding instruments, sat quietly nearby. A young woman in a leather miniskirt slid leggily off her stool and ran up to Pete, planting a kiss on his lips with playful enthusiasm, which he heartily returned. Two other women, one holding an accordion, eyed Sirius playfully. "Mmmm, new blood! Nice one, Pete; who's your friend?"

Her friend clucked reprovingly. "Leave the poor lad alone, Ange; you'll scare him off. Besides, he's too thin; I'll bet he don't weigh ten stone. I like a man with muscles, me. Mind you, if he was fattened up he'd be sommat to look at; I wouldn't mind giving it a go then…." They laughed so gleefully that Sirius joined in.

Pete made flailing motions with the arm that wasn't around the girl. "Back, I tell yez! This is Sam, and he hasn't even had a pint yet; don't go annoying the patrons or John'll throw you out. John, could you give us two Tennents over here please? Now, what's Jimmy done? Somebody tell us about last week."

Several people attempted to do this, simultaneously.

"It was fuckin' brilliant! Archie and Fred were here, with a couple of old geezers they'd found out in the countryside, played Border pipes. I didn't know there were any players like that still alive!"

"Brilliant music; we were all just knocked flat. Then somebody noticed this guy up front, nobody knew him, with a DAT recorder, a professional-quality machine, gettin' it all on tape!"

"You don't do that, not without asking, you know. But nobody expected it, you know, and people started asking who the guy was, if he was with the old guys, maybe, and finally Archie spoke to him.…"

"And the guy said, 'Bugger off; I can tape if I want to' in this heavy accent. German or something. You know the Germans are mad for Celtic stuff.…"

"So this just made everyone unhappy, but nobody wanted to start a fight."

"Bollocks; Archie did. Archie was about to lay into him, and Fred was nervous because they were supposed to begin a tour and he didn't want Archie to mess up his hand again...."

"But then yer man Jimmy comes over, all big and sleepy-lookin', like a fuckin' polar bear, and says 'What's the matter?' He goes up to this German, or Rooshian or whatever kind of foreigner he was…."

"Jimmy just looks after people, you know? He was nice as pie; he says, 'Excuse me, Mister, but my friends would like you to turn off your machine; people don't normally tape these sessions. This is one of the many ways musicians get ripped off, and it makes everyone nervous.'"

"But the Russian suddenly doesn't speak English; he keeps his recorder on and smiles this crocodile smile at Jimmy.…"

"…so Jimmy gives this big sad sigh, like he does, you know—- 'What's a mother to do?'—and he goes up to John and buys a couple of pints. We're all waiting for him to try reasonin' with this bastard some more, but not Jimmy: he stands in front of the German, and very carefully pours one pint into the machine and the other one over the German's head. It was fuckin' brilliant! Then he pushed the eject button so the beer could get inside better! " 

"The Rooshian starts to splutter, and we give him a big round of applause. He finally catches on that Jimmy isn't messin' about, so he disappears like a fart in a high wind, and after those two pints, yer man Jimmy didn't have to buy anything else all night."

Pete joined in the laughter and unpacked his guitar. The music, which had abated for the saga of Jimmy and the foreigner, swelled again; Sirius looked around at the various groups of people, enjoying the scene. It had been—how long?—since he'd been in a place like this. The noise and chat were the same as he remembered, but at a slightly lower level: a session seemed to command some respect, and the conversations were never loud enough to interfere with the music. Sirius stood at the bar and sipped his pint, letting the music flow over him.

Tomorrow, Sirius too would be leaving Edinburgh, to take up residence in the cave Dumbledore had suggested as a hiding place. The second task had gone very well yesterday; he had watched the whole proceedings from the branch of the tall pine at the lake's edge, right by the viewing stands. By concentrating very hard, he'd been able to augment the power of his bird vision to see right through the water; he'd watched Harry's every move. He'd watched Harry find the hostages, wait for the other champions, pull the two remaining hostages up to the surface all by himself.

Sirius was absurdly, overwhelmingly proud; he'd regaled the company at the repair shop with a moment-by-moment account last night.

"Whoever put his name in for this tournament must be feeling pretty foolish by now," Pete laughed.

Sirius smiled and nodded, but then added, more soberly, "Yeah, that's so. But this may make him, or her, try harder to attack Harry in some other way. I think I should get myself closer to the school, to be on hand all the time."

Nigel had agreed, reluctantly. "Well, I think you're right to go up and keep watch, but I hope you'll be careful. Folk in Hogsmeade are lots more up-to-date than wizards here in Edinburgh; they'll be far more likely to spot you. If you run into trouble, just Apparate back here, understand? I couldn't take losing you a second time."

                                                      **********

A cheerful uproar drew Sirius out of his reverie: Jimmy had arrived, still the hero of the hour, with Liz. A pint was thrust into Jimmy's hand, and a glass of cider into Liz's, by John the barman, with a friendly "This has been paid for three times over; let us know when you need another!"

Jimmy waved his thanks to the crowd, but refused their demands that he sit in and play. "Maybe after a pint. I'm knackered; just let me listen. Archie, give us 'Far From Home', that's where we'll all be tomorrow." He took a long swallow and walked over to stand beside Sirius. Liz spotted the two women at the bar, waved, and found a stool beside them.

The music started again as Sirius turned to Jimmy and lifted his glass in a toast. "Pete says you handle all the paperwork for these tours; no wonder you're tired."

Jimmy finished his beer; the glass was scooped up and replaced with a full one. "It's just a bunch of hoops to jump through; I'm used to it. Nowadays we're on the road maybe eight months out of the year. The part that's hard is being away from the girls, and Lizzie, for such a long time. " He started on the new pint. "I used to think Lizzie would get tired of waiting for me, and find some man who would stay home with her. Thank God she never did that. But then the kids started coming, and now I feel rotten leaving her to deal with them on her own."

He grinned. "Mind you, sometimes I don't mind at all, though I do feel guilty all the same. Just before our Christmas tour, they all came down with 'flu at once; it was total chaos: vomiting and fevers and diarrhoea…. I was never so glad to wave goodbye… but I felt like a coward, leaving Liz to cope with it all.

"Do you know where I was when Helen was born? Bloody Japan. I did manage to be here to see the twins born, but then when Vee came along, I was on the road again: some Wild West saloon in Alaska. Pete was nineteen then; he came up and stayed. He got Liz to hospital, and when they said "Are you Mr Armstrong?" he said yes—so they let him stay with her. They phoned me up when it was all over." Jimmy grinned again, looking toward the end of the room where Pete and the others had begun a waltz. Several couples were dancing in the tiny space.

"I'll bet they thought Liz had robbed the cradle, that night. He's always looked even younger than he is … but I was grateful. Pete's the best; it's great having him on the road with us! He never shuts up, for one thing; doesn't give Len a chance to complain about anything! He thinks he's going to stay in the band, you know, wants to do this full-time. I can see him worryin' about that little Tamsin of his. This trip will probably be the test for him; if he still wants to be a touring musician after this, I'll know it's in him."

Sirius swirled the beer around in his glass. "Pete says your dad is here; that he's going to stay and help out while you're gone."

"Yeah, our dad's great; he's a big favourite with the girls, and he could use a break from our mum, as well. He's bad in his lungs; he was a miner from the time he was fifteen till he got too sick to work, back about 'seventy-nine. The girls think he's wonderful. He'll have 'em laughing all the time…. They used to not even remember me when I'd come home after a long tour, back when they were really small." He took another pull at his beer.

"That's what worries me: you can't expect kids to love you if you're not there. It's even a lot to ask of adults, isn't it? I'm lucky to have Lizzie, and I'm terrified about being gone so much from the kids. I generally let Liz make most of the decisions about them, and handle the discipline; I'm afraid they wouldn't take it from me. To be absent from their lives, then to come in as nearly a stranger, and demand obedience and respect—you don't use kids that way."

He shook his head, raised his glass and finished the second pint. As the barman noticed and approached with a third, Jimmy patted Sirius on the shoulder. "Finish that one for me, will you, Sam? I think I'll sit in for a couple of tunes; they'll be annoyed if I don't."

Sirius stood staring after him, considering the sadness of loving children from a distance.

"Penny for your thoughts," said a soft voice in his ear. He turned and smiled at Liz, whose friends had moved closer to the music. He looked around and found a stool for her, to gather his thoughts for an answer.

"I don't know; just thinking of what a hard thing it seems to be, for Jimmy to go off and leave you to cope with the girls on your own."

"Yes, it's hard for him; he's such a caretaker. And the girls miss him, especially Margo. Actually, though, we manage very well, and my father-in-law, Chris, always comes up to look after Vee while I'm at work. He loves that, and the girls think he's great. So it's Jimmy who suffers the most." She looked down the room at the cluster of musicians, where Jimmy and Pete sat across the circle from each other, laughing uproariously at some mistake they'd made in a tune.

"It's better for him now that Pete's in the band. Pete, as I'm sure you've noticed, never stops talking; it keeps Jimmy amused and he doesn't miss us so badly. Have you known him long?"

"No, not at all. I met him on his camping trip back in January; we just hit it off and he invited me home with him. It does seem that I've known him forever. He's mentioned a couple of other brothers; is the whole family as close as he and Jimmy are?"

Liz shook her head, her eyes thoughtful. "Not exactly; you could say Jimmy and Pete are the survivors. I suppose you should know this, since you and Pete are such friends. There are four of them; Jimmy's the eldest and Pete's the youngest, with ten years between them. Alan's the next in age to Jimmy; he's in Australia. He never married as far as we know; he never writes or contacts any of the family. Johnny, the third brother, is the worst damaged; he never speaks except to say 'yes' or "no." He works on construction sites, for a friend of Jimmy's.

"Their mother is ill; subject to fits of rage. She used to chase them, scream at them, beat them horribly. I'm told that she threw Johnny against a wall when he was about six; that's when he stopped talking. Jimmy tried to protect them; he used to come home from school at lunchtime, running all the way in a panic, to check on the little ones. He had nightmares all through his childhood about his little brothers being killed.

"The amazing thing was, that Chris didn't find out about any of this for a very long time; it never occurred to the boys to tell him. Children can be so secretive about things; who knows why they never told. He finally discovered a bleeding cut on Pete's head, where she'd hit him with a fireplace poker. When their dad asked about it, Jimmy started to cry, and said he couldn't get home fast enough. He was fourteen. He told his mother, then, that if she ever touched Pete again he would kill her. Poor Chris was devastated; he got medical help for his wife and arranged with the boys' auntie for them to stay with her every day until he came home from work."

Sirius found nothing to say; he stood silent, appalled. He couldn't imagine anyone hurting Pete; hurting any small child. Their mother must be ill indeed.

She looked up at the stricken look on Sirius's face, smiling gently. "When I married Jimmy, I knew enough of this to understand that I was marrying both of them, in a way. It was very funny: we were at University together, Jimmy and I. I'll never forget: once, when Pete was about nine, he asked Jimmy in one of their weekly phone calls when Jimmy and I were going to be married. Jimmy said, "Well, I don't know if she'll have me," or some sort of joking answer like that. So Pete, the following weekend, got on a bus, came all the way from Newcastle down to Durham, hiked up to my room, and started explaining to me, very earnestly, what a great lad Jimmy was, how I'd never do better than to marry him, how I was daft if I didn't love him."

She laughed. "I'd always wanted a little brother… after that, I told Jimmy I was only marrying him so I could keep Pete.  He was relieved, I think."

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

Outside Hogsmeade, 4 March:

The black dog stood on his hind legs, his front paws on the top rail of the stile, looking anxiously toward the village. He had just completed his daily circuit of the village, collected another newspaper and a few scraps from the back of the Three Broomsticks, checked the inn for any new arrivals, and now waited for Harry to come visiting.

It had been a busy, but uneventful week: the weather had certainly improved, to his gratitude. There was a strong breeze, but no rain for the whole week, and the temperature was warm at midday, pleasantly cool morning and evening.

Buckbeak had discovered him, in his cave, early one morning. He'd shrieked a delighted greeting and moved in, himself. Buckbeak appeared to enjoy sleeping in the cave during the night and at midday, and going out to forage during the dawn and dusk hours. It was good having the Hippogriff to come home to at night.

Padfoot's tireless patrolling of the village and the school grounds meant that he was outdoors for nearly all of every day. He watched the inns carefully for new or suspicious arrivals, kept an eye out for anyone who visited the shops dealing in Dark objects and supplies. He listened in on conversations in the cafes and pubs. He'd reported his non-existent findings to Dumbledore, twice. He had not told Dumbledore that he was meeting Harry today.

Food was beginning to be a problem: Padfoot was not the best hunter, nor was he the most successful beggar: he was too big to be appealing to most of the residents. There were occasional scraps from the cafes, and occasional rabbits or rats, but never enough. As a falcon he was a superb hunter, but the little merlin was satisfied with sparrows or mice; not enough to keep a man or a big dog happy. For the first time in years, Sirius felt actively hungry: that real, training-all-day, healthy-outdoor-living hunger. It wasn't altogether a bad feeling, but all the same, he hoped Harry remembered to bring food, as he'd requested in yesterday's note.

That had to be Harry, coming down the lane with his two friends. Hermione, wasn't it, and Ron. Nice kids; good friends. Where would we be without friends, he thought. They protect us, cover for us, look after us, keep our spirits up… save our lives. There'd been a time, when he was young, that he'd taken friendship for granted: a bloke just had friends, right? That's how it was. He'd never be that complacent again, ever. One thing he would be sure to teach Harry….

He wagged his tail as the children approached the stile.

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

That night, Sirius lay awake in the cave thinking about Harry and his friends. He hoped they had the sense to know that a real danger existed, and were willing to accept his warnings to be careful. Harry, of course, had made light of the warnings, but Sirius was sure he'd exercise caution—or that Ron and Hermione would see that he did. Very bright kids, all of them: they made a good team. They seemed to be making some very intelligent guesses about all the strange goings-on, and were keeping their eyes open.

He felt good about the visit: he hadn't thought of James at all while talking with Harry. He was beginning to understand who Harry was, to form connections with Harry himself. Harry was a thoughtful, courageous, loyal kid; the son of an old friend, to be sure, but his own person, with his own friends and his own ideas. Sirius played the visit over in his mind, remembering the things all the children had said, remembering the understanding they had with each other, and the easy exchange of ideas, bickering a bit, but always at ease.

He thought that Harry sometimes took the role of group leader. They were all very quick, of course, but Harry occasionally had to direct the other two, had to focus them on the questions at hand. Sirius felt proud—unreasonably so, he thought with a laugh at himself. He certainly couldn't take credit for Harry's courage or intelligence. He wished he could.

When they left, he'd been startled—and touched—to discover how concerned Harry was for his, Sirius's, safety. As the children were leaving to go back to the school, they each gave him a goodbye pat. Harry had waited till last.  Then he quickly bent down, took the big dog's head in both his hands, kissed the top of his head, and whispered, "Just don't get caught, OK?" before running after Hermione and Ron.

Sirius wondered if all dogs could cry, or just Animagus dogs.

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

The days and weeks quickly settled into a pattern: a tour of the Forbidden Forest, the lake, and Hogwarts grounds early, before the shops in Hogsmeade opened; then a leisurely round of the village, taking most of the day. A bit of begging, as much to make the shopkeepers familiar with Padfoot as for anything to eat. In the evenings, another trip round Hogwarts. He varied this routine a bit, and used both Padfoot and the falcon, to be more difficult to spot.

Harry and his pals were keeping him supplied with food, enough for him to share with Buckbeak. Usually there was a note attached to the food packet; Sirius answered these faithfully. He couldn't include any information about his daily routine, but he tried to think of jokes and interesting things to say about his own school days.

At the end of the second week, Sirius took two days to visit Folberg at the full moon. Remus was teaching when he first arrived; Kjersti and Andie were preoccupied with the new calves, lambs and kids in the barn, the pastures and the pens. Sirius visited Aslak's classes, watching the old man with the students, and going over his own lessons in joik-making. They were going well; he felt pleased with his progress. Clearing his mind, becoming quiet and peaceful, was proving to be difficult; he'd never thought of himself as serene, but he was sure he could manage it. He had to, if his joik was to work for Harry.

In the evening he went along with Remus and Erik as they carried food to the barn and ate with Kjersti and Andie. The meal was a pleasant one: Kjersti and Erik had their own baby with them, sleeping peacefully in an unused watering trough padded with straw. "We think this 'nursery' is a good place to bring him," smiled Erik. "All these young creatures will grow up together, so they may as well become aware of each other from the beginning."

Andie turned to her Pack: "Don't transform in here, either of you," she cautioned. "These mamas might not take kindly to canines sniffing around their babies. Some of the younger ones are a bit on edge anyway, and that might just be the last straw. Stay close to the school when you transform; I'll try to catch up later."

Remus took her empty plate and stood up, laughing. "It won't be as much fun without you, and the last time the two of us went out by ourselves, there were repercussions. We'll stay in until you come home.  If you're too tired by then, we'll just curl up together. Sirius can tell me about his visit with Harry."

Erik elected to stay with his family; Remus and Sirius walked up the path to the cabins, still thinking of the foolish baby faces of the new creatures, the staggering attempts at frolicking by the ungainly reindeer calves, the reassuring, quiet competence of Andie and Kjersti.

"What does the sight of all this baby-tending do to you, old friend?" Sirius smiled as he posed the question. "You know, I wouldn't mind being called Uncle Sirius, some day."

Remus glanced at him with surprise. "Lord, I don't know. I don't even know if it's possible: can werewolves have children? Am I a werewolf? I don't know. At the moment, I'm satisfied with my Pack; you and Andie are all the family I need, just now. Maybe later, who knows?"

He was silent for a moment, thinking of his phrasing: he wanted to be careful here, not to  make it too immediate: "What about you? Do you ever think about having kids one day?"

Sirius hadn't consciously expected the question, but once it was asked, the words tumbled out in a torrent. "I think about Harry. I'm getting to know him, bit by bit. It's astonishing, and a bit scary, how much I want him with me, so that I can look after him. I find myself thinking of things I should be telling him, things I could do for him. I'm embarrassed to admit how proud I am that he's taken to me so completely. Common sense tells me it's just that there's nobody else he can turn to.

"The thought of letting him go back to Lily's sister and that horrible family of hers, it worries me more than I can tell you. I'm going to try to make Dumbledore see that I can look after Harry properly. He doesn't seem inclined to let me take him, though.

"Do you think he's right? Would it be too dangerous? Would I be fit to care for Harry, and protect him? I think I would, but then I've had so much help, from you, this past nine months, that I don't know what I could do, left to myself.…" He glanced sideways at Remus, looking for some sign of reassurance, finding it.

Remus stopped in the path, put out his hand, and turned Sirius to face him, gazing calmly up at his friend in that peculiarly 'Remus' way of not raising his head, just looking up from under his bushy eyebrows. "That's an easy one: you won't be left to yourself. Oh, you're perfectly capable, of protecting people, or looking after a child or doing anything else you want to do, all on your own.

"But the point is, you won't be alone. You're ours. Harry will be ours too. There's also Nigel, and his Maria. They've accepted me, you know; they want to be part of any family you put together. So Harry will have grandparents. And friends. With all of us on hand, we can protect each other. We'll be a proper family. I think Albus will change his mind; I think he'll have to." He grinned to himself, then added, "But you needn't ask Harry to call me Uncle Remus."

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March edged its way to April; Padfoot's routine varied only slightly, to include visits to the Hippogriff flock in the forest. Buckbeak had been showing signs of agitation and irritability. Consultation with Andie via owl had alerted him to the fact that it was nesting season for Buckbeak's kind. This was the first year Buckbeak would be old enough to take an interest, but once he got back to the flock and watched the proceedings there, he knew, all right.

Sirius went with him to the centre of the Forest, and stayed out of sight, watching the great creatures pairing off, the bizarre courtship rituals being performed all around him. Buckbeak focussed his attentions on a stately white-and-gold female, bowed to her, presented her with huge tree branches, blocked her path back to the flock in a combination of ferocity and tenderness that awed Sirius. Eventually, she accepted the tree limbs, bowed in return, and no longer attempted to rejoin the flock.

After that, Sirius included a daily visit to the nesting site, made friends with Buckbeak's mate, and was gravely permitted to inspect the construction of the enormous nest.

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As the days turned a bit warmer, more visitors appeared in Hogsmeade. Ministry officials and working people, fancying a sunny day in the country, often Apparated in for lunch, or for holiday weekends. This meant fresh news, if Padfoot were allowed to hang about. He usually wasn't. People tended not to enjoy being stared at while they ate, certainly not by huge, unkempt, scruffy-looking dogs.

Sirius thought there should be a way around this problem. He was an Animagus, a double one. Dog shape, bird shape… no shape? There were ways of becoming invisible, he knew. Dumbledore found it quite useful, as headmaster of Hogwarts. How did Albus manage invisibility? Also, there was his prison experience: he'd learned a great deal about being emotionally invisible, to the dementors. That should be useful.

 

Old Alice had some form of this skill; people didn't notice her when she didn't want them to. Sirius smilingly remembered spells he had made use of, in school: spells to keep people from noticing—well, all sorts of things. They'd been fairly easy, for him and Remus, as he recalled. (James had struggled with that class of spells for some reason, and Peter had been hopeless.) He was sure he could come up with a spell to keep people from noticing him. This problem was something he could ask Dumbledore about; most likely Albus would know a shortcut.

The black dog galloped around the corner and behind the Three Broomsticks; a small falcon flew up, off toward the school.

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

"A most useful idea; I am delighted that you wish to try invisibility! As you have anticipated, there are two approaches to the question." Albus sat with his elbows resting on his huge desk, his fingertips touching to form a point in front of him. Sirius helped himself to tea and biscuits as he listened.

"Alice, as you have guessed, has a technique based on the large family of memory-charm spells: the Obliviate, the cheering charms, the concealing spells that some students use when they want to hide things from each other. These spells have the advantage of being somewhat easy to learn."  Albus smiled at Sirius, who had finished all the biscuits. He tapped the empty plate with his wand, causing it to fill with chicken sandwiches. Sirius took one, nodding his thanks.

"The other approach, more involved but much more thorough, is a Transfiguration spell, similar, as you have also guessed, to the Animagus spells. You are right in supposing that 'no-shape' is a shape that can be assumed, although it is a bit more complicated than an animal shape. Apart from my own use of that spell, I believe there have only been two others in Britain who have ever persisted with the No-Shape transfiguration; it is quite difficult for most wizards.

"Since you have a talent for both types of spells, I suggest that you try the transfiguration approach. These spells involve actual change in the user, rather than change in the minds of the beholders. For this reason, it is more dependable. Highly trained people like Alastor Moody, for example, would not be fooled by concealing spells such as Alice uses."

Albus got up and turned to his bookcase. He turned a key, opened the huge glass doors, and ran his finger along the shelves, humming to himself. A small red book slid out from a shelf above Dumbledore's head and hovered in front of him. "Aha," he said with satisfaction. "This should give you somewhere to start." He plucked the book from the air and laid it on the desk by Sirius's elbow. "I believe this should be manageable for a falcon to carry. When you have read it, please come back and I can watch as you try the spells. They should not present any problems for you, but it helps to have an observer; that way you will know when the desired effect is achieved."