Hunted

Chapter 16: Revelations

Angela heard the roar of the motorcycle outside the tiny cottage in Beecher's Knoll. She had just gotten the children back down to sleep. All she wanted now was a few minutes of peace and quiet before the next round of diaper changes, feedings, and lullabies began anew. Damn that noise.

She ran into the kitchen. The morning sun glinted off of the large picture window over the kitchen sink. Angela peered out through the window to see a huge black motorcycle skid to a stop in front of their door. Her brother, Paul, with Tonks perched on the seat behind him, straddled the massive machine. Angela ran out the front door to greet them, flailing her arms to get their attention.

"Keep it quiet, please," she begged. "I've just put the children down."

Tonks leapt from the back of the motorcycle with an awkward dismount that almost landed her in the dirt. She recovered, blushing with embarrassment. She straightened her black leather jacket, left unzipped to reveal an artfully torn t-shirt underneath.

Paul dismounted after her. He removed his helmet and ran a large hand through the waves of short, chestnut hair. Paul's burly frame towered over his sister. He surveyed her up and down. He let out a long, low whistle of astonishment.

"What happened to you?" he asked, staring at the dark circles under her eyes and her disheveled hair. "You look like you've just been in a Muggle fistfight and lost."

"You would too," she insisted, "if you'd been deprived of sleep or a moment's rest for two whole weeks."

"My nephews did that to you?" Paul quipped with a smirk. "They're getting off to an early start. Well then, let me have a look at the little devils."

"You can look," Angela said. "But don't you dare wake them."

Angela ushered Paul and Tonks inside the cottage and pointed toward the nursery. Her brother and Tonks moved off to check on the children. Angela sank down in a kitchen chair with a weary sigh. Moments later, the two visitors waltzed back in the kitchen and sat down.

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Paul remarked. "They look like perfect angels to me."

Tonks nodded her head in agreement, those spikes of hot pink hair accentuating the point. Remus walked into the room. He rubbed his eyes to wipe the last vestiges of sleep from them. Then his hand ran over the three day growth of scruffy beard that remained on his unshaven chin. He stared at the newcomers with blood-shot eyes.

"'Lo, Remus," Paul greeted. "You look like hell."

"Thanks for noticing," Remus replied. "Is that Sirius' old motorcycle that I heard outside?"

"No," Paul replied, shaking his head. "Harry took that back to Hogwarts with him after the Christmas holidays. The one out there's my old Triumph." His head motioned toward the yard. Then his brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Wonder where Harry's keeping that thing at school?"

"Oh, Sirius managed to locate a hiding place or two in our day," Remus replied, chuckling. "Harry's clever enough. I'm sure he's thought of something."

"So how have you been?" Paul asked, eyeing Remus with a quizzical stare.

Remus shuffled over to the kitchen table and sat in a chair beside his wife. "We've been getting on," he replied, patting Angela's hand.

"The children keep us up at all hours of the night," Angela explained. "When they finally fall sleep, you're so exhausted that you have little energy for anything else."

"This was the first time in my life that I've ever actually looked forward to a werewolf transformation," Remus confessed. "I slept for twelve hours straight." He cast his wife a sympathetic stare. "Poor Angela, she was left to fend for herself."

"I managed," Angela replied, shooting him a doting look. "Remus' mother came by to cook and help out."

"That's probably the best meal you've had since the children were born." Remus turned to face the others. "She's had to endure my cooking for the past two weeks. We've been living on bangers and mash."

"Bangers and mash?" Paul snorted with laughter.

"He did just fine," Angela insisted, casting her brother a scolding glare. "Let's see how well you would do without Mum to cook for you?" She turned to Tonks. "Do you cook?"

"I've never been much good at domestic spells," Tonks replied, shaking her head. "Mum's a good cook though. My Dad's a right slob. Don't think he could even manage his own eggs and toast."

"Looks like the cooking will be up to you then, Paul," Angela teased. "You'd better start getting some pointers from Mum."

Remus chuckled. Angela glanced from Paul to Tonks. Their faces had turned various shades of scarlet.

"Remus has kept me fed," Angela remarked, with an affectionate squeeze on her husband's hand. "But what I wouldn't give for a proper night's sleep or an uninterrupted soak in a warm bath."

"Why don't you go then," Remus suggested, casting her a warm smile. "I'll take over for a while."

Angela excused herself and rose from the table. She had made it halfway to the door, when Paul spoke. She froze.

"You missed one hell of a meeting last night," Paul volunteered. "That's why we've come. We were sent to fill you in."

Angela's tired eyes opened wide. She spun around and strode back into the kitchen. She sank back into a chair, her eyes flitting between her brother and Tonks. She listened with rapt attention.

"What's happened?" Remus inquired.

He leaned forward. His fingers stroked the stubble on his chin. His forehead creased with concern.

"There was a bit of a row at Hogwarts," Tonks explained.

"Harry?" Remus asked, his blue-gray eyes flushed with alarm.

"Not this time," Paul remarked. "It was the Black Gauntlet. You know, the jewel thief."

Remus leaned forward. "Tonks, isn't that your case?"

"Yeah," Tonks replied, giving her spiky head a sharp nod. "And we know who he is now." She wrinkled her nose. "That bumbling git from International Wizard Intelligence, Bilius Gnash. Seems he got himself assigned to the case and has been tampering with the investigation to put everyone off his trail."

"He even positioned himself at Hogwarts," Paul remarked, "posing as a Muggle Studies professor. Slippery chap too. Ravena and Snape cornered him, but he got away." Paul pounded his fist on the table in frustration.

"What was he doing at Hogwarts?" Angela asked, her green eyes wide.

"Looking for a jewel," Tonks replied. "The Phoenix."

"A large diamond," Paul explained. "No one knows for sure what it does."

"Get the Phoenix," Remus mused. His head jerked up. "That's what the message meant. The Death Eaters want the jewel. But why?"

"And where is this jewel now?" Angela added.

"That's the problem," Tonks replied. "No one knows."

"It belonged to Aunt Medea." Paul cast his sister a knowing look. "Ravena took it to Hogwarts for safekeeping, but it was stolen. She discovered it missing just two days ago."

"Ravena?" Angela's mouth fell open.

"Yes, dear cousin Ravena," Paul replied with a nod of his head. "She told Dumbledore that she removed the gem from the family safe around the Christmas holidays. She was nervous with all those reports of thefts. The Black Gauntlet, you know."

"Turns out," Tonks replied. "Her suspicions were spot on."

"Cousin Ravena and old Snape caught him searching her office." Paul explained. "When Snape went to get Dumbledore, Gnash overpowered Ravena and escaped." Paul hammered his fist on the table once more. "Wish I'd been there. I'd have given him what for."

Angela couldn't help smirking at her brother's bravado. Ravena was a gifted dueler. For all her brother's brawn and courage, he was no match for her talent. Angela couldn't imagine that Paul would have fared any better against a wily jewel thief.

"We have every Auror in the country looking for him." Tonks cast them a confident look.

"There's more," Paul said. "Gnash was looking for another gem too. One with connections to Salazar Slytherin."

"What does that one look like?" Remus asked.

"An emerald with some unusual markings," Paul said. "It looks like a snake's eye. Dumbledore suspects that Gnash was hired by one of the Death Eaters to steal both jewels. But we still don't know why."

"So what is the Order doing about this?" Remus' brow furrowed.

"Several of us volunteered to find out all that we can about those jewels," Paul replied. He nodded to Remus. "Dumbledore thought that you might be interested."

"Of course," Remus replied.

"The Order has also offered to help track down Gnash," Tonks said.

"And Dumbledore has asked Snape to spy on the Malfoys," Paul rejoined. "Although Snape hasn't had much luck of late. Mad-Eye thinks we should set up our own surveillance around Malfoy Manor."

"That wouldn't be a bad idea," Remus remarked, with a nod of agreement.

"The Malfoys are too dangerous." Angela reached for her husband's hand. She flashed him an anxious glance. "I don't like the idea of you being anywhere near there."

"I'll be fine," he replied, giving her his most reassuring look.

"Don't worry, sis," Paul remarked. "Tonks and I volunteered for a shift too. We need all the help we can get. Our numbers have really taken a hit these past few months."

"Kingsley broke his leg yesterday," Tonks added. "A freak accident. He was investigating a report of a Pettigrew sighting near Hogsmeade. He stepped on a rotted board. It cracked and he fell right through. He's lucky he only broke a leg in the fall."

"The healers at St. Mungo's fixed him up right quick," Paul said. "So he shouldn't be out of commission too long. Bad luck for Kingsley. That's his third accident in as many weeks."

Angela's eyes were riveted on her husband's face. At the mention of Pettigrew's name, a steely glint had flashed in his blue-gray eyes. That familiar crease now graced his brow. She knew that Pettigrew's treachery still rankled her husband. And the thought that Pettigrew was anywhere near Harry would trouble him as well.

Just then, the cry of an infant rang throughout the cottage. Angela sighed, excused herself, and walked from the room to tend to the child. Her break had ended. Her arms scooped up the fussing infant, thrashing red-faced in his swaddling blankets. But her thoughts lingered on the news that she had just heard.

* * * * * * * *

At three in the morning two days later, Remus and Angela sat in the parlor of their cottage. Angela cuddled an infant in her lap, supported by pillows. The babe nursed at his mother's breast, gulping and slurping. Remus glanced up from his reading, hearing the sound. An affectionate grin formed on his lips.

"Noisy little pup." His hand stroked the downy head.

Angela's eyes glanced from the little face to her husband's with a smile. Then she surveyed the condition of their sitting room. Piles of books covered every available surface. Musty old tomes, some of which hadn't been opened in centuries, lay strew on the floor and the end tables.

"How's the research coming?" she asked.

"Not well," Remus replied, rubbing his tired eyes. "I can't find anything in these." He gestured with a hopeless flick of his wrist to the largest pile on the floor in front of him.

"Why don't you give up for the night," Angela counseled. "And go to bed. There's no use in both of us staying up all night."

"I can't sleep anyway," Remus replied, casting her a sympathetic look. "I might as well keep you company. And I keep thinking that I'll find the answer in the next book."

He picked up large leather-bound volume entitled Necromancy through the Ages. His eyes swept down the table of contents. His fingers flipped the book open to a page in the middle. He resumed reading.

Angela's thoughts strayed to Prudence Crutch, the mousey-haired witch with thick glasses who worked as librarian in the National Wizard Archives. She had been a regular visitor at the cottage these past two days. Angela marveled that the clever old girl had managed to smuggle all these books out of the library for Remus without attracting notice. She even managed to obtain several rare and out-of-print editions. Having a librarian in the Order had proved advantageous.

"I found it," Remus remarked, looking up with a triumphant smile. "The Eye of the Serpent. It says here that Salazar Slytherin dabbled in necromancy, trying to contact the spirits of the dead. This emerald was the result of one of his experiments. He tried to leave of bit of himself in it, so that he could contact his progeny from the grave."

He leaned over and showed Angela the page. He pointed to a small sketch in ink of a gem with imperfections through the middle that gave it the appearance of a serpent's eye. The jewel was mounted in a setting of twisting snakes. Angela's eyes flew open wide.

"I've seen that." Angela gasped. "Narcissa Malfoy wore a brooch just like that to the Ministry press conference. That pin seemed oddly alive. I felt as though it were watching me."

Remus' mouth fell agape. He stared at Angela for a moment. His hand ran through his sandy hair. Then his eyes brightened in a look of understanding.

"What is it?" Angela asked.

"Harry always sees through Voldemort's eyes," Remus whispered. "That explains Harry's visions."

"V-voldemort?" Angela stammered. Her eyebrows rose. "But he's dead."

"Precisely," Remus explained. "He's found a way to channel his spirit from the other side of the grave. He's using the Eye of the Serpent. Through it, somehow he can communicate to his followers."

"So he's still giving the Death Eaters instructions?" Angela asked. Fear now lingered her eyes.

"So it seems," Remus replied. The crease on his brow deepened. "And that means that Harry's visions are very real."

A baby's plaintive cry sounded from the nursery. Angela jumped, startling the infant in her arms. He had stopped nursing anyway and had nearly drifted off in a milk-induced stupor at her breast. Now he screwed up his face, preparing to vocalize a protest.

"I'll take this one," Remus offered, setting the book aside.

He gathered the infant in his arms and rested it on his shoulder. He snuggled a bristly cheek against the baby's soft head. His gentle hand patted the tiny back.

"Hush now, James," he soothed.

Watching her husband with the baby, Angela smiled. How quickly he had taken to fatherhood. He was a natural, patient and kind. Why should she be surprised?

Angela shuffled to the nursery, dragging her weary feet. She gathered a squirming, screaming infant in her arms. She was about to leave the room, when she spotted an old tome lying on the rocker. Remus must have left the book behind earlier that day. Her eyes scanned the title, Tainted Trinkets and their Trivia: A History of Dark Objects. She scooped the volume in her free hand and walked back to the parlor.

"You left this in the nursery," she said, handing Remus the ancient text.

She settled herself back on the couch, rearranged the pillows around her, and pulled the child to her breast. The baby latched on and nursed hungrily, its cries instantly replaced by audible gurgles and gulps.

Remus now cradled a wide-eyed baby James in one arm. The book lay open in his lap. He flipped through the pages with his free hand. He read a passage about a cursed ruby aloud to the infant in calming, dulcet tones, as if he were reading a child's fairy tale. Angela giggled.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm reading to him," Remus explained. "He doesn't understand what I'm saying anyway. It's the intonation that matters."

Angela's face sported an amused grin. Remus turned back to the text and continued reading. She listened to the soporific drone of his voice, as his words washed over her. After several minutes, the suckling infant in her lap had fallen back to sleep, his tummy filled. His twin had nodded off as well, tucked securely in his daddy's arms. Even Angela's eyelids had become leaden.

Her ear remained tuned to the hum of Remus' voice, pleasant and calming. "The Phoenix, an ancient and most mysterious gem, harkens from the days of the Pharaohs...named for the bird that rises in rebirth from its own ashes..." His voice trailed off. Something pricked her subconscious. What was it? Something she needed to remember. The Phoenix? Angela's eyes flew open.

"Remus," she exclaimed, now wide awake. "Read that last part again."

Her words jolted Remus back to consciousness. He too had drifted off into slumber. He stared back over at his wife with a drowsy gaze.

"What?" he queried, with a quizzical stare.

"That last part about the Phoenix," she explained. "Read it again."

Remus shook himself awake. His eyes scanned the page, popping open wide when he found the paragraph. His eyes now devoured the text with a hungry stare.

"The Phoenix, an ancient and most mysterious gem, harkens from the days of the Pharaohs...a brilliant diamond with an inner light of red and gold...named for the bird that rises in rebirth from its own ashes...it was believed to have the power to reincarnate the dead..."

Remus stopped reading. He stared over at Angela, anxiety etched in those blue-gray eyes. He hugged the child in his arms more tightly to his chest.

"That's why the Death Eaters want it," Remus whispered. He swallowed hard, as if to suppress the words that he was about to speak. "They're trying to bring Voldemort back."

* * * * * * * *

At the Hawkins mansion, a tea trolley sat in the middle of the parlor, laden with a plate of cucumber sandwiches, a frosted cake decorated with candied violets, and a tray of Ravena's favorite Belgian chocolate-glazed biscuits. A fine bone china teapot rested on a silver salver along with two matching teacups and a pair of luncheon plates.

Medea Hawkins lounged on the velveteen settee. Her silver hair was pulled back into a tight bun that only served to further accentuate the severity of her features. Her mouth was twisted into an unpleasant grin. Ravena balanced primly on the edge of her chair, facing her mother with a look of annoyance.

A house-elf waited by the tea cart, poised to serve at the beck and call of his mistress. Medea gave the elf an impatient wave of her hand. The elf's pointed nose almost touched the floor, as he executed an obsequious bow.

"Knobs is pleased to serve," the elf said with another deep bow.

"Please leave us now," Medea said without the slightest hint of kindness. "I wish to speak with my daughter alone."

"Madam does not wish Knobs to serve tea?" the elf inquired. A look of shock at the abnormal request hung in his overlarge eyes.

"I will do it myself," Medea answered with a glare. "Now leave us."

Seeing her expression, the house-elf jumped backward a pace or two. Then he backed out of the room, bobbing in subservience as he went.

"Madam is too kind to Knobs," he said, as he disappeared through the door.

Medea Hawkins shifted her position on the settee. Her gnarled hands grasped the teapot and poured two cups of the steaming brew. Her hand hovered over Ravena's cup for a fraction of a second, feeling the heat of the rising steam. Then she handed the delicate cup to her daughter. Ravena took the cup and rested the saucer in her lap. She eyed her mother with suspicion.

"So, Mum, what's all this about?" Ravena inquired. "Are you going to fill me in on the details or leave me in suspense?"

"All will become clear in due time, dear," Medea intoned. That unpleasant smile was back on her lips. "Did you inform Dumbledore as I asked you?"

"Yes, Mother." Ravena rolled her eyes. "I told him that you needed me home to tend to some urgent family business. Severus has kindly offered to teach my classes for the week." She shot her mother an annoyed look. "This couldn't possibly have come at a worse time. I must get my students ready for their N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. exams."

"I am sure that your Potions Master friend will handle the job for you," Medea said. She frowned at the mention of Snape and took a sip from her teacup. "Won't you have a biscuit, dear? I believe these are your favorite."

Ravena eyed the chocolate biscuits. Her slender hand reached for one and she took a bite. Then she washed it down with a sip of her tea. She wrinkled her nose and stared at the teacup. The tea tasted strangely bitter.

"Not your usual blend, Mum," Ravena remarked, looking up at her mother.

Ravena noticed that her mother watched her with a curious stare. She took another bite of the biscuit, as a feeling of malaise crept over her. What was her mother hiding?

"So Mum," Ravena prompted, taking another sip of tea. "What is this urgent family business?"

Medea didn't answer. Ravena glanced up to find her mother's eyes fixed upon her. The cold eyes swam in and out of focus. Ravena blinked to clear her vision. She felt warm. The room began to spin like an out-of-control amusement ride. Bloody hell! The old crone must have slipped something in her tea.

Ravena's ears heard the tinkling of china, as her teacup and saucer slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor. She was vaguely aware of the splash of warm liquid on her trousers. A loud buzzing filled her ears. Her vision went black.