Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Albus Dumbledore Rubeus Hagrid Remus Lupin Sirius Black
Genres:
Action Drama
Era:
Multiple Eras
Stats:
Published: 12/25/2002
Updated: 12/25/2002
Words: 7,321
Chapters: 1
Hits: 667

Hand of Kindness

Cushie Butterfield

Story Summary:
I like happy endings, or at least hopeful ones. The action takes place during the summer between books 3 and 4. All about hiding out and healing wounds.

Chapter Summary:
Being a werewolf might not be a static condition, especially if you have clever friends. I wrote this story a few months ago, but now I've written it better
Posted:
12/25/2002
Hits:
667
Author's Note:
Thanks, as usual, to CLS, and to the National Geographic for the Camargue.

"Sometimes words will fail you,

You have more than words at your command,

You have the power to love and to heal,

Right there in your own two hands." (--Jan Marra, from her song "Two Hands")

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"I have to look for him, Albus. You saw him, you saw the state he's in, he'll need... "

"Yes, he'll need help. And I agree, you're probably the only person from whom he'd accept that help. He will require time, healing, care, and rest, before he can be any use to Harry or anyone else. By all means, go. I'll inform staff and parents that you are concerned that accidents such as last night's are too much of a risk, and you have decided to resign so as not to endanger any students." The old wizard looked grave and added, "There is, I hope, an element of truth in that."

"Of course there is. I feel appalled at how close those children were to me when I transformed last night. I could have bitten any of them. Would certainly have done, if it hadn't been for Sirius." Remus paused and took a deep breath. "Professor, when you spoke to Sirius, of course you couldn't have known he'd escape, but perhaps you entertained the possibility with him? " He watched Dumbledore's benign, impassive face, and went on hesitantly. "Perhaps you mentioned somewhere he could go, to hide? Can you think of likely places for me to start looking?"

"I did think he might be able to escape, with help. We spoke of such an eventuality... I am delighted that things turned out so well. The fortunate acquisition of the Hippogriff put a much wider range of distance at his disposal than the authorities expect him to have. I suggested to Sirius that he make for your old forest home."

"The Hut! Of course. I'd forgotten. It should still be Protected; he knows how to get in. The times we spent there! I haven't seen it in twelve years, though; there's nothing inside. No food or anything, no bedding. I gave all my things away when ... well, when I left. I can stop in Hogsmeade and pick up supplies."

"An excellent idea. Which reminds me: here are your wages. It has been a great joy to me and a benefit to the students, having you on staff this year." He drew out a bag of gold, stood up and handed it to Lupin. Briefly, he laid a hand on the werewolf's shoulder, stood in thought for a moment, and finally said, "If you do find Sirius, be patient with him. Healing wounds such as his will not be a brief task or an easy one. If there is anything I can do to help or advise you, I hope you will ask. And in any case, please let me know of your progress and whereabouts; I have no wish to lose either of you."

Lupin managed a half-smile. "Well, it certainly won't be the first time Sirius has tried my patience." He grew solemn, and added, "I don't expect it to be easy; I just hope it's not impossible." He shook his head, sighed and moved to the door. "I'll just go clear out my classroom, and try to leave without attracting any attention. I'd rather not have to face any students, after what nearly happened last night. Just give them all my best, will you? Especially Harry and his pals. I enjoyed myself this year with these kids, Albus; thank you for convincing me to come back. I haven't felt this... human... in years."

"I am happy to hear you say so. Perhaps this year's experiences will be useful in your efforts to reintroduce your friend to the world of humanity. I'll let you know when your carriage arrives."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The werewolf strode wearily through the patch of woodland towards his old home, carrying various bundles. "Forest" was, he thought to himself, a bit of an exaggeration, though his preferred spot for Apparating, and the Hut itself, were surrounded by a small bit of forest. It lay between two huge, grassy hills, and was actually only a thin ribbon of trees with a briskly flowing stream bubbling quietly amongst them. Climbing to the top of either of these hills would give one a magnificent view of miles upon miles of such hills, rolling away under an ever-changing sky. A beautiful, remote, historically lawless area, appealing to a werewolf, or to any other creature who felt awkward in close proximity to the civilised world. Remus thought he would climb up and see it again-- perhaps tomorrow. Depending on what he found waiting for him at home. Home. The only one he'd had as an adult, where he'd been happy, in a quiet, solitary way. The home he'd abandoned in despair twelve years ago. The Hut.

The Hut had first caught his attention the summer following his final year at Hogwarts. James and Lily had left for holidays together; Sirius was looking forward to Auror's training; Peter had entered his father's law practice. The future, for werewolves, would always be a matter of some difficulty, and Remus hadn't felt up to facing that fact just then. He announced to his friends that he would be doing a walking tour in the Borders. "What, up in the middle of nowhere, you'll be bored stiff after a week, just wait," was Peter's prediction. Sirius had added, "I hope you're not going all deep and spiritual on us, Moony; I much prefer you shallow and callous, the way you are." He was smiling, but he looked as though he understood.

It had rained, it had been chilly, there had been no sign of human existence for days at a time--and Remus had loved it. He had come upon the Hut one afternoon when rain had been coming down in an imperceptible mist all day. It was the sort of rain that one doesn't even notice until one is wet through, and Remus had just become aware of his drenched condition when there it was in front of him, among the trees. It was an abandoned shepherd's hut, small and cramped, but tightly built of grey stones. There was a twisted, nearly hollow apple tree beside the single door. Inside, he had found an old shepherd's crook and satchel. A table, a chair and a broken bedframe made up the room's furnishings, and upon the table, an ancient sepia Muggle photograph of a young couple, perhaps a wedding photo. Remus imagined the shepherd out here for weeks on end, with the photo to keep him company. He wondered about that old shepherd, why he hadn't taken the photo with him when he'd left. He grinned and shook his head: Sirius was right, perhaps he was going all "deep." He made a fire and pulled out his supper.

The next morning, he'd been reluctant to leave. The Hut (he was already thinking of it in capital letters, he realised) seemed to have made a decision for him. With his wand, he swept out the leaves and bits of rubbish. He repaired the roof and secured the door more tightly to its hinges, and sat contentedly on the front step. The day was beautiful and there were small birds noisily conducting their business in the trees nearby. The front garden--it had been a garden once--held a few of the better-known medicinal plants. The stream babbled just out of sight around the corner of the Hut, making him think of fishing. Then, oddly, a tiny, fluffy grey owl had flown down from somewhere to the lowest branch of Remus's (Remus's?) apple tree and watched him with interest. "You're right," he had said to the owl, "this may be important. Wait while I get a quill." He had pulled a bit of parchment and a quill from his things and scribbled a note: "Hello Sirius--When can you get free to come help me with my house?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The werewolf wondered if Sirius would be there. He would never have forgotten the way, but would he want to use the Hut? Would he be afraid to put him, Remus, in danger? Would Sirius dread the thought of raking up the nearly unbearable past, even with him? Or especially with him? Remus rubbed the back of his neck and slowed his pace. He ached all over: no sleep last night, every transformation more painful than the last and harder to recover from. He wondered idly how long his body would stand the torture it had to go through each month. There wasn't much written on the subject; most werewolves were killed before they had the chance to die from their condition. Well, he had to preserve the appearance of good health for a while longer, at least: Sirius needed him. He hoped (smiling) that Sirius realized this and wouldn't make himself impossible to find.

Sirius: how could he ever have thought Sirius guilty of treachery? Violence, maybe; even murder, maybe--but he'd known Sirius. He had KNOWN him, known him as well as he knew himself. He should have done something, twelve years ago, should have stood up--to someone-- and said, "These crimes could not have been done by Sirius Black, because...." Remus sighed. It had been different then, of course. Sirius had suspected him too, he knew. They had all begun to doubt each other, knowing there was a spy, knowing it had to be one of them, doubting their own years of friendship and loyalty to each other. So, there had been no disbelief, no questioning, no doubt, when Sirius had been caught, as everyone said, red-handed at the murder scene. Only grief. A more terrible, lasting grief, to Remus, for the loss of the criminal than for the victims. That grief had shaped the last twelve years of his life.

Now, the heartsick grieving had ended, to be replaced, after that first flash of relief and joy, by fear that Sirius would be discovered. An escaped prisoner, when captured, could expect no mercy, no hearing from the Dementors. Twelve years, moreover, of existence in Azkaban Prison would have robbed Sirius of his strength, his sanity, his powers to defend himself. Remus walked faster.

Nearly there. He'd chosen his spot for Apparating very carefully, wanting a hidden spot that wasn't near the Hut, so that he could approach unseen and disable the Protection around the place. Until that was done, the Hut would appear even more dilapidated than he'd found it; a wreck with falling-down walls, caved-in roof, missing door. He was proud to see that it still held after all these years: not bad work, since he'd been only seventeen when he constructed that spell. Telling himself not to hope, he took out his wand and spoke the words. He realised he'd been holding his breath, and exhaled slowly. Tears came to his eyes, and he bowed deeply.

There was a Hippogriff in his front garden.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Two letters:

"Hello Albus,

I thought I should write and give you a report. Things are better than I had feared, and yes, we are still where you suppose us to be. It's been an astonishing two weeks, but for the most part it's been good. We both shy away from painful subjects in our conversation--in fact, Sirius transforms into a completely non-conversant Padfoot whenever things tire him too much. We are always within arm's length of each other. At first, he could only sleep for a few minutes at a time, from years, he says, of a horror that Dementors would approach while he was dreaming. If I stay by his side, keeping my hand on his head or his arm, he now manages to sleep nearly through the night.. I've never been much good at healing spells or potions (as you know), but I honestly don't think they would help much in any case. His peace of mind isn't going to come back by magic.

His powers, his sense of identity, and his physical strength are much more intact than I dared hope. Still, it's heartbreaking to see how thin he is, and how overwhelmed he is by the least expected things: a mouse stealing crumbs, a minnow in the stream, me cooking our breakfast. I told him that my cooking doesn't usually reduce people to tears, but he said, he had given up thinking about such things as a morning in a friend's kitchen. The most encouraging sign of mental resilience he's shown me is his concern for Harry. I've told him all I could about Harry and his cronies, their activities, studies and intelligence. He is determined to heal himself, to play an active role in Harry's protection and upbringing. He sent Harry a note just this morning. Tiny owls, like the one delivering this letter, still hang around this place, and come down to the door when they think we should be writing a letter!

I think we will remain here until after the next full moon; after that we will have a good month in which to have a sort of holiday. I have a place in mind, out of the country, a warm place. He's doing well here, much better than I'd even hoped, but you are right; we should not stay in any one place very long.

Remus

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Please send me ingredients and all the information you can about this Wolfsbane Potion Remus is supposed to be taking. I think I'll try my hand at preparing it. He looks terrible. He looks after me like a mother hen, and tries to hide his own pain and discomfort, but it's obvious that he is ill, even this many days away from the full moon.. When we were children, his being a werewolf was just part of the fun, rather exciting, but now I am afraid--having found him, having regained his trust, I fear losing him. He has shown me the formula for this potion, and it almost seems more deadly than the condition itself. Does it work? I mean, work without eventually killing him?

I came here not knowing what I would do: to be honest, the "plan" I had when I escaped didn't include a concept of Future. It never went any farther than killing Peter and most likely being killed myself. Now, somewhat to my confusion, I find myself alive and safe, with two goals: to protect Harry, and soon, possibly, to take over his care-- and to do something to help Remus.

Life here is unbelievably good. It's almost more than I can bear sometimes, to hear birds, or flowing water, or Remus's voice. To see sky, and little green apples, and Buckbeak digging for worms in what Remus calls the garden. To think that such things still exist.

Sirius

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"I think I'll make a wand. I need one, and I can't very well walk into a shop and try one out."

"Right, then, have you ever done that before? I haven't."

"No, but I know the basic principles. Let's go for a walk and have a look at some of your trees. Something will occur to me, I think."

"You could go as Padfoot; that'd be a more suitable persona for checking out trees, I'd think."

"As Padfoot, I look for DIFFERENT information from trees. When you've finished making tasteless comments, I'll be glad of a little actual help."

++++++++++++++++++++++

Two more letters (in French):

My dear Uncle Paul,

I hope you and Aunt Cecile are well, and still content with your retirement. I have a great favor to ask of you: would it be possible for me to visit your farm for a few weeks, with a good friend? We are anxious to live quietly, away from society for the present. I assure you neither of us has done anything wrong, but there has been some misunderstanding with the authorities. I know that aspect of things does not worry you, but I should tell you that if we were found it would mean prison for my friend, and unpleasantness for me.

I remember your farm with great fondness: the marshes, the beautiful little horses, the wonderful birds. Summers with you and Aunt Cecile make up the most cherished memories of my childhood. It would be wonderful if all the world were as pleasant.

Your nephew, Remus

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

My dear Nephew,

How delightful to hear from you! Of course, come; bring your outlaw friend and we will defy the world to find you! It will be like the old days. Retirement is sweet, and very comfortable, but at times too quiet. I am the gentleman farmer, always genial, posing in photographs for Muggle tourists, telling lies and smiling. It is at times amusing, but it does not always entertain me. Your Aunt Cecile also sends her love, and says she would benefit from some diversion. When will you arrive?

Your Affectionate Uncle Paul

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Well, whether this stuff works or not, it certainly tastes better than Snape's efforts. Thank you, Sirius. Odd, how the maker seems to affect this potion. The first time I tried it, Madame Pomfrey had brewed it. Hers was smoky, but with a much redder color. Snape's was brown and much sharper in taste, but they both seemed to work. And now this hardly smokes at all, and it's almost clear." He finished the potion and smiled at his friend. The old familiar pre-transformation feeling, a sort of aching tension and internal trembling, had started already, and drinking the potion calmed that feeling a little. This potion would work. They would have a good run tonight, in animal form but human in mind. They sat on the front step, waiting for nightfall. "Have I ever told you about my Uncle Paul?"

"Is he the smuggler? The one who saved all those people from the witch-hunts in North Africa?"

"That's the one. He and my Aunt Cecile rescued hundreds of people back in the '30s and '40s. Rolled some of them up in rugs. Took others on ships and declared them to be livestock. Transformed whole shiploads of people to look like sheep, or goats. He saved the lives of lots of Gypsies too, during the Muggle wars going on then. He hates any kind of authority, Muggle or Wizard. His battles with the French Bureau of Magic are legendary. He was a public hero so they dared not discipline him, but they got in his way more than even the English Ministry of Magic could do. He had given up sailing by the time I came along, and had taken up farming-- at least, he calls himself a farmer, and he does live on a farm, but with Uncle Paul, it's never as simple as he'd like you to think."

"He sounds like a great old character. What made you think of him?"

"I had a letter from him today. I wrote to ask him if we might stay at his place for a while, and he's written back saying come ahead. Dumbledore feels that we shouldn't stay here, or anywhere, for very long at a time, and I agree. The Camargue, where Uncle Paul lives, is a perfect next stop. It's off the beaten path, full of Gypsies, horses, bird sanctuaries, swamps, mosquitoes,.... Nobody will think of looking there for you, and it would please Uncle Paul and Aunt Cecile. They like outlaws."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was blessedly cool in the old farmhouse, with its thick stone walls and flagged floor. An anti-mosquito charm kept out the insects, and delicious smells were emanating from the kitchen. They sat with the soft late-afternoon light pouring in through the sitting-room window, watching the smoke rise from Uncle Paul's pipe.

"My dear nephew, what a frightening, unhappy tale you have told me! Surely there will arise a way to clear your name, young Sirius. And things improve, do they not? You have friends: my nephew, Dumbledore, ME! Your young godson, he knows you to be innocent. A stalwart lad, I have no doubt. I would like to meet him some day. Most of our young ones today, what sheep they seem to be! Afraid to move without permission from the Bureau.

"You are certainly welcome to stay here as long as you like. You will be my new guardians, what you may call herdsmen of horses. You will find that my little horses will never give you away. They have a talent for keeping a rider on their backs, if they approve of you." He smiled mischievously. "And your Hippogriff, that magnificent beast, he will be happy searching the marshes for the eels and other things."

He called to Aunt Cecile in French, received a cheerful answer and turned back to Remus and Sirius. "Your meal is nearly ready; we only wait for Andromeda. A charming young woman, she also is staying with us while she works in the field. She is here on orders from the Bureau... but a fine young person nevertheless." As he spoke, a door slammed in the back of the house. Lively conversation could be heard, along with laughter, followed by hurried footsteps up the kitchen stairs. Cecile appeared wiping her hands on a cloth, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Mlle. Andromeda will join us when she has cleaned off the mud. She was in the salt marshes today conducting her research, and had a bit of a conversation with some Grindylows."

+++++++++++++++

The young woman entered the room with the long stride of a person more at home in the outdoors. She was dressed in cool summer robes of a very pale blue, the same shade as her eyes. Her short, damp hair was shaggy and glossy black. She grinned at Uncle Paul and said, "You have a guest; what a day for me to fall in the mud! I was stupid; I should have known that little deep area was perfect for Grindylows." She added, "I hope you'll forgive me for making you wait for dinner. However, Cecile's cooking is always worth waiting for, even if I am not." She sat down next to Paul and went on, "What a beautiful dog! So huge! But isn't he awfully thin?"

Uncle Paul's smile was very bland. "Allow me to introduce my nephew, Remus Lupin, from England. He and his... dumb friend... will be spending part of the summer with us. I am sure you will enjoy their company. Yes, a magnificent dog." He did not add that this animal had only moments before been a man.

Remus smiled at her. "He's a stray, I think. He's only been with me about a month. I'm a schoolteacher. When I got home after the end of term, I found him waiting for me at my house. I've been feeding him, but you're right, he is very thin. I call him Padfoot."

Andie smiled politely, looking quizzically at Remus for a moment, then shaking her head. "Your name is familiar to me, but I don't remember meeting you before... no doubt I'm thinking of someone else. Your dog seems so well-behaved for a stray! If you like I can examine him for you later. I'm a vet."

Uncle Paul interrupted. "Much more than a vet, if you will allow me to say so. Mlle. Andromeda is making quite a reputation for herself in the field of Care of Magical Creatures. She left Beauxbatons with highest honors ever recorded in that field, and put in three more years training with Rubeus Hagrid in Britain. Since then, she is in great demand all over Europe, dealing with animals no-one else can touch. She is here to examine the little horses; there is a report in at the Bureau that our horses are interbreeding with Kelpies. Hah, as if they would-- as if there were any Kelpies remaining outside Britain-- and of course the ever-watchful officials must see about this. So they send us our lovely Andromeda."

"Paul is quite right; the report is ridiculous. But I am glad of the holiday; Paul and Cecile have been so very kind to me. And it is beautiful here. I have the chance to explore, to make friends with these "little horses" of Paul's, who in turn are introducing me to the other creatures that live down here. It's been heaven."

"It isn't every young woman whose idea of heaven is a mosquito-ridden salt marsh, but we are delighted to have her here. At the end of summer, she will fill many parchments with well-worded lies for her employers, and go on to help other poor creatures elsewhere in the world. I have been urging her to tell the Bureau that these reports are true; perhaps then we will command a bit more fear and respect."

Andromeda laughed affectionately at him. "Such a report from me would, as you know well, bring the entire Bureau down on your head, and you would never again have any peace from them. I shall tell the truth-- at least as far as the horses are concerned."

She turned her attention again to Padfoot, who lay quietly, intently watching her. "Will your dog let me touch him, do you think?" she asked Remus. When he nodded, she knelt on the floor to stroke the huge shaggy head. "Yes, he's been in the wars, poor old fellow: he's so thin, and so sad," she began, and ran her hand down the dog's back. "I can feel his entire spine." She looked closely into Padfoot's face, her hand under his chin, black hair nearly touching black hair, and hesitated. Slowly, with wide eyes, she turned to Remus and said softly, "Who is this?"

Paul arose ponderously, took her hand, and said kindly, "Let us not keep Cecile waiting any longer. My nephew and I will tell you a long and very interesting tale at dinner."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"I don't think I've ever seen so many dumbstruck people at the same table," Sirius looked around the table and smiled. "Like one of those plays where people keep tearing off false whiskers and revealing themselves to be each other's long-lost whoevers. As for me, I simply heard the name Andromeda and panicked. I didn't want my own little sister to see me and hate me on sight. I knew she'd think me a murderer. My mother left for France when I was in my seventh year at Hogwarts. At the time, I thought that was the hardest thing I'd ever have to face: her divorce from Dad and taking Andie away.

"It was all about animals, I suppose. Our granny, Dad's mother, was one of the seal people; I never met her. She saw him old enough to go away to Hogwarts, then went back to the sea. Our mother knew this, and over the years, I suppose when I came along, it began to worry her. She never liked the idea of Dad being half Selkie, wouldn't let us even go to the seaside as kids. We were never allowed to have pets; she thought it would bring out our non-human side. It was obviously in us, though. Andie carried toy animals around with her the way most little girls do with dolls, and me-- well, I like being an Animagus. It was unbelievably natural and easy for me, even at fifteen."

"Changing your form in the sitting room was probably the wisest course you could have taken," replied Uncle Paul. "I suspect young Andromeda believed you as a dog far sooner than she would have believed you as a human. She has faith in animals."

Andie nodded. "Animals don't lie as readily as people do. I wasn't happy at having to leave you and Dad either. Mother wanted me to change my last name to her maiden name, but I refused. I said if she didn't want me to be a Black, I'd have no last name at all. I took my Beauxbatons entrance exams under only one name; the headmistress was very understanding. I've used only my first name ever since. I discovered animals in the Care of Magical Creatures classes, and they were nicer to me than most of the other students were: they didn't care that my French wasn't very good yet. Mother, of course, was disappointed and I think terrified. She's remarried; I don't see her very often." She looked across the table to Sirius. "I'm so glad-- so very glad-- that you're innocent. That you're here. That I've found you." She gulped, managing to keep her composure. "I mourned for you, you know. I never paid much attention to the news at school, but while I was working with Hagrid I heard what had happened: that you were in prison. If it hadn't been for Hagrid's sympathy and kindness I'd have been the loneliest, saddest person in the world." She smiled suddenly, her eyes lighting up for joy, and triumph, in the exact way that her brother's sometimes had done, in the past. Remus knew that look: that precise look, but in a different face. He smiled in spite of himself, along with her.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As had become his habit, and often Remus's, Sirius had gone along with Andie on her daily ride to follow the horses. They had been talking together nearly every waking moment during the several days since their reunion, comparing memories, delighting in shared habits and preferences, re-forming a bond. Remus had listened, detached, during these discussions, adding pleasantries occasionally, but on this morning had, rather brusquely, declined to go along to watch the horses.

"Sirius, what's the matter with Remus? There's something I can't put my finger on, but it's bad, and you know what it is, and you may as well tell me." Andie urged her horse further into the tall grass, keeping the herd in sight. "I thought these past few days we were making friends. He seems so kind, so much easier than most people to get on with. I like him, Sirius. Did I say something wrong this morning? People are so hard for me to read."

Her brother sighed, his horse amiably following hers. "I've seen this sort of action before from him. He pulls back from people, even when he would like very much not to. He makes excuses for not pursuing friendships. He was probably telling the truth, though, when he said he didn't feel well."

Sirius paused, wondering how he could explain Remus to this nearly unknown person who was his sister. He groped for the words that would make her accept the unacceptable: "Remus is the best friend I have in the world. He's been my friend since we were eleven. This summer, after believing me to be a murderer for twelve years, he simply looked at me and knew I was innocent. He took me in and cared for me when I was barely able to say my own name. I owe him my life, my sanity-- I'd do anything for him. The problem is that I don't know what to do. Andie, Remus is a werewolf." He gazed into her eyes, willing her to understand. "He's not a monster. There's a potion he's been taking this past year, and it keeps him sane during his transformations, but it doesn't make the whole process any easier physically."

Andie looked thoughtfully at him. "A werewolf. I should have guessed. I've never met a werewolf, but some of the signs are there, aren't they."

She hesitated, then went on. "He needn't worry about me, and you can tell him so if you like. The most important thing I learned from Hagrid is that even the frightening, dangerous creatures respond to love and fairness and respect, eventually, just as the fluffy ones do. You can even tame Grindylows if you handle them from kittenhood. The Merpeople do that; they keep them as pets."

She went on: "I've read about that potion, too. It was in all the Animal Care journals last year. As I recall, it's pretty dangerous. Isn't the main ingredient wolfsbane? If you have the formula with you, I'd like to see it when we get back." They broke through the grass into open water, and were dazzled by the sight of hundreds of salmon-pink flamingoes, grazing. At some unseen bird signal, they arose in one mass, and went flying down towards the sea. "You said you'd written to your godson this morning. If you like, I could persuade one of those fellows to carry your letter for you. Do you think Harry would like to see a flamingo?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The werewolf and his uncle watched as Sirius and Andie rode happily into the yard, waving and calling to them. The little grey horses seemed to be enjoying themselves as well; they needed no saddle or bridle to keep their human companions on their backs. Paul turned to his nephew and said, "If you take the advice of your wise uncle, you will approach and be congenial to Andromeda; I believe you disappointed her this morning. She finds you intriguing, I think. She looks even now to see whether you notice her. The young sister of your dearest friend: what a good beginning for friendship!"

"You know my difficulty, Uncle Paul. I would like nothing better than to form a friendship with Andie. Or perhaps, who knows, more than a friendship. But how will she regard me at the next full moon? How does one drop 'I'm a werewolf' casually into polite conversation? I haven't found that this information endears me to new acquaintances. And what would Sirius think of me, if the werewolf approached his little sister?"

"I think that her reaction would not be as you fear: this young woman has no fear, and she likes animals. I know she lacks the common human prejudice against your kind. I have never heard her speak ill of any creature, except some humans. Mlle. Andromeda is a woman of good sense: I believe she would be competent even in dealings with a werewolf. And Sirius: Sirius trusts you with his own life, and so perhaps even with the life of his sister."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Remus looked at the two eager faces in front of him, and tried to make sense of what they'd been telling him. " Let me see if I understand: you want to tame my Wolf? And you're going to do this by altering the Wolfsbane Potion to be more benign?"

"Not 'tame', exactly," said Andie. "But at least try to speak to it, communicate in some way, so that it doesn't hate you. I believe that wolf is imprisoned; it only has freedom once each month. It doesn't understand why, but it knows that humans have something to do with it. I have an idea that it isn't the Transformation that hurts you, but the terror and fury the Wolf goes through, caught in the trap of a human's soul and trying to tear itself loose."

Sirius continued, "Transformations themselves don't hurt anyone: look at all the Animagi in the world. I can tell you, too, that it isn't a matter of gaining control of the animal: Padfoot has a say in how I feel and live--stop laughing, you two, I'm trying to educate you. Andie thinks your Wolf can be reasoned with, and I'm convinced she's right. We almost saw that happen during our time at school, didn't we, sometimes?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A letter:

My Dear Sirius,

I was quite intrigued with your suggestions regarding the Wolfsbane Potion; even more so when I learned that Andromeda is your sister. She was a most impressive young woman; she had an uncanny affinity with all the creatures in the Forest. I believe she and Hagrid still correspond. What a world of surprises!

To answer your question: Madame Pomfrey agrees with your assessment of the primary purpose of the potion: to suppress the Wolf in the human's psyche. She says that any adulteration of the Wolfsbane compounds would be less stressful to the patient, but perhaps not as effective in controlling his monstrous tendencies.

However, if your primary purpose is not to suppress the Wolf but to form an alliance with it, as your Andromeda suggests, perhaps your proposals are not so farfetched. It seems certainly to be worth a try, and it probably will not harm Remus-- however, you should be very cautious and allow no chance of harm to others when you attempt this. Consider also that you may not be strong enough for an endeavor as exhausting as such a spell is sure to be, after only two months of rest and relative safety. I shall be very interested to hear of the outcome.

Albus.

P.S: I believe this is the first letter ever delivered to me by flamingo!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Cool wand: where did you get it?" Andie watched as her brother caused the parcel to unwrap itself, spilling the contents onto the table. The ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion had arrived in the claws of a huge brown owl, which clutched the payment in his talons and vanished into the sunrise.

"I made it myself; it's the best one I ever had. Apple wood, with one of Buckbeak's wingfeathers in the core. You needn't tell Remus, but I hadn't a clue what I was doing when I decided to make a wand myself. You have to ask a tree to give you a branch, and if it does, you're home and dry."

"It's quite a sight, I can tell you, seeing Sirius humbly begging for anything," Remus chuckled. "I was happy to be along on that little expedition. And you have to be prepared for a certain amount of rejection. A number of trees turned him down."

"Yes; roughly a hundred or so. It was a sobering experience. One even stretched its branches up higher, so that we couldn't reach them at all. And after we'd walked all afternoon, and came home empty-handed, the tree that finally gave me a branch was the one right by Remus's door." Sirius was checking over the various packets and vials as he spoke. "Well, I'm ready to begin this potion. They've sent all the required stuff, plus the extras we asked for. Andie, are you still willing to help?"

"You couldn't stop me," she grinned. They shooed the others out of the kitchen and pulled the cauldron towards them on the table. Andie said, "You just concentrate on Remus, and your desire to heal him. I'll see to it that you get the ingredients in the right amounts and the right order. Do the mixing with your hands, and not with your wand. The potion needs to... to convey what you feel, if that makes any sense. Think back on the good times you had together as children; on the pain and loneliness he goes through, the losses you have both endured and how important he is to you.. This potion is our only line of communication with the Wolf; it needs to be a hand to sniff. He knows you: you're Padfoot, his friend. Remind him of that."

Sirius became grimly silent. He nodded, laid aside his wand, and began to break up the dried leaves with his fingers.. He closed his eyes, casting about in his memory for the image he'd decided to begin with. It came: Remus, aged eleven, staring with dismay, then with bleak resignation as his two wonderful new friends, James and Sirius, came bursting into the dormitory full of their clever deductions. "You're a werewolf, aren't you, Remus?" they'd demanded. The stricken look in his friend's eyes had frozen Sirius in his tracks; he hadn't thought how Remus might react. He'd begun babbling, saying what he hoped were reassuring things: 'Never mind, Remus: we think it's cool that you're a werewolf!' something, anything. He had only known at the time that he never wanted to see that look again. That look of pain, in Sirius's view, was the beginning of it all.

As the cauldron slowly filled he began mixing the ingredients with both hands..

They worked together well, needing no spoken word as they went through the steps. Andie was watchful: measuring, anticipating what Sirius would need next, intent on not letting the rhythm break. At times, silent tears coursed down Sirius's cheeks. At these times Andie gave him a one-armed hug as she measured liquid or poured ingredients with the other hand, even though she soon realised that he wasn't even aware of her touch.

As they neared the end of the formula, Sirius paused. "Andie, take my wand and touch my arm, just there. I'll do the asking; I just don't want to take my hands out of this." He formed a picture of Buckbeak in his mind: Buckbeak offended by a lack of courtesy. He felt the beak slash at his arm, felt the blood run down into the cauldron. Andie cried out and flung the wand away, but he said gently, "We have to have that. That's for the Wolf: the blood of Padfoot, an Animagus, do you see? It should give him a choice, and convince him that I mean what I say."

Andie stared at him in wonder for a moment, then nodded reluctantly..

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Only two more things to add: our extras," Andie said, "Heartsease. Heal-all. We're leaving out the willow leaves, didn't we say?"

"Yes, forgetfulness is the coward's way out," answered her brother, quietly. They carefully strained the potion into a clean cauldron, then stood motionless. They were finished; there was nothing else to do.The slanting light coming through the half-open door proclaimed it to be early evening. They stared at each other, exhausted, pale eyes gazing into pale eyes. Sirius blinked and shook his head. He reached out and embraced his sister, and said, "Now to find the patient. Then to wait for the moon to come out."

The potion was crystal clear, faintly luminous, with no odor or taste.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They found Remus sitting on the wooden bench in the kitchen garden, watching the last bees leaving their labors at the sage blossoms for the evening. Andie held the goblet. "I'm not leaving," she said. "Go ahead and drink it all, and we'll stay here together until we know if it works." She handed the goblet to the werewolf and sat down beside him.

Sirius stumbled slightly on the gravel path as he sat down on the other side of his friend. He watched silently as Remus put the goblet to his lips and drank. He felt so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, but he knew sleep was out of the question. Even though Paul and Cecile had decided to spend the night on their ship, anchored just offshore, there was always the fact that the wolf would need a distraction, should he appear. Sirius had been unable to persuade Andie to take any sort of precautions for her safety.

"Amazing," said the patient. There was a look of mild confusion on his face. He took another sip. The pain, which had begun in his limbs at early morning, subsided slowly, completely. A sudden memory entered his mind: Sirius at eleven, looking anxiously at him, telling him, "You're a werewolf? Cool!" He looked wonderingly at the adult Sirius beside him, gaunt, hollow-eyed with weariness, but giving him that same anxious, tentative smile. "Amazing. I feel.... quiet. Is this how people feel when they're human?" He drained the goblet.

"Neither of us would be able to tell you that," said Sirius, "but you still look like Remus. Oh, you may be an Animagus now; we're not sure."

"Look," Andie said suddenly. "The moon's up." Hand in hand in hand, the three creatures sat quietly and watched the moon.