The Werewolf's Bride

Rated PG for nasty snapping things.

"The charge against the accused is as follows: that on Sunday the first of December 1985 at twenty-nine minutes past ten in the morning, he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, make a Portkey without Ministry authorisation, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph 5 of the Decree for Portkey Restriction, 1782."

Remus tried not to grip the arms of the great chair as the plum-garbed Wizengamot glared down at him. This is only an illegal Portkey, he reminded himself. It doesn't matter that I'm going to be found guilty.

The Minister for Magic faced him. She seemed bored by the formal recitation of standard questions. "Are you Remus John Lupin, of number 24, Spurge Street, Old Basford, Nottingham?"

"Yes."

"Did you make a Portkey on the morning of the first of December?"

"Yes."

"Did you have Ministry authorisation?"

"No."

"Did you know that it was illegal to make an unauthorised Portkey?"

"Yes."

Dr Bagnold frowned. "Mr Lupin, do you wish to make any statement in your own defence?"

"A young lady wished to go to London, but she was being detained at Foss. A Portkey seemed the only possible way to move her."

Amelia Bones suddenly cleared her throat. Dr Bagnold fell silent at this interruption from the Minister for Magical Law Enforcement, and allowed Madam Bones to ask, "Mr Lupin, in what way was this lady being ‘detained'?"

Remus swallowed. They had agreed that he would not mention Kingsley's name, and he would prefer not to mention Ariadne's. But he could never face Ariadne admitting that he had missed his cue to plead Veleta's case. And once he described Veleta's situation, it would be difficult to avoid the rest. "She was in the grounds of Macnair Castle, which is protected by a magical barrier. She demonstrated that she was unable to pass through that barrier, but stated that she very much wished to. She was unable to Apparate and she was not authorised to use the castle's Floo network. A Portkey seemed to be the only option."

"And this woman... after she had taken your Portkey... where did she go?"

"She returned to Foss." He could hear the titters of disbelief among the Wizengamot members. "The Portkey failed to transport her children, and she would not leave them alone there."

"That is absurd," expostulated Dr Bagnold's Senior Secretary - a portly man named Cornelius Fudge. "All the magical traces that our detector recorded indicate that it was a working Portkey. The accused himself admits that it successfully transported some woman. How could it have failed to transport other passengers?"

"It seems to me," said Madam Bones, "that the very absurdity of the story demands investigation. Mr Lupin, you say you made an efficient Portkey that transported a woman to St Mungo's. Are there witnesses to her arrival?"

A murmur around the courtroom reminded Remus that he was being invited to incriminate himself by citing witnesses who belonged to the prosecution. But he gave the name of the Healer who had examined Veleta.

"And then she took the same Portkey back again?"

"Yes."

"Because this fully functional Portkey had failed to transport her children."

"Yes."

"And she now retains this illegal Portkey in her possession."

"Presumably. But it would have deactivated within an hour."

"Mr Lupin, if this woman really were illegally incarcerated, why did you not report it to the Aurors?"

"It was reported nearly a year ago, but the Aurors refused to act. They claimed that the circumstances - "

"These questions are wasting the court's time!" interrupted Fudge. "We are not here to investigate this woman, but to discover whether there is any possible reason to acquit Mr Lupin of making an illegal Portkey. So far we have uncovered none. He admits that he was operating outside the law - that he had no interest in involving the law to deal with his alleged problem. Has anyone any more to say?"

A ripple of whispers ran through the courtroom.

"I mean, has anyone anything to say about the Portkey?"

The courtroom fell silent.

Dr Bagnold spoke. "Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?"

Three or four hands were half-heartedly raised.

"Those in favour of conviction?"

At least forty hands shot into the air at once. A few more straggled after them. The Court Scribe counted, and waved his wand. The number 46 erupted into the air, hovered before Dr Bagnold's face, and vanished.

Dr Bagnold fixed her eye on Remus and recited: "Remus John Lupin, the Wizengamot finds you guilty of making and using an illegal Portkey, and sentences you to a fine of three hundred Galleons. You have twenty-four hours to bring the money to the Office of Disciplinary Revenue." Then she turned to Madam Bones and asked in a more normal voice, "Who's on next?"

"Fletcher."

"Oh, hang Mundungus Fletcher! Let's have our tea-break before we deal with him!"

There was some enthusiastic shuffling at this suggestion. Remus supposed, from the clatter of a hundred feet stamping towards the door, that he must be dismissed. He found himself swept along in the wake of the plum-coloured robes, which charged out through the courtroom door, nearly squashing Mundungus Fletcher.

Before he had time to decide whether to Disapparate, one pair of feet had stopped behind him, and a voice in his ear was asking, "Mr Lupin?" It was Amelia Bones.

She had just fined him three hundred Galleons; he wondered whether she were about to remind him how to register his payment or to hail him as the acquaintance whom Ariadne had been pressured into marrying.

"Come and have tea with me," said Madam Bones. She hustled him down the corridor and onto the landing, where witches and wizards in plum-coloured robes were sitting around small tables. She seated herself at a vacant spot and ordered, "Accio!" Two cups and a teapot appeared in front of her; Remus supposed they had flown down from her office.

"This adjournment was well-timed. Otherwise I'd have had to visit you at home." Madam Bones poured tea. "Mr Lupin, I couldn't ignore what you were saying about a prisoner at Macnair Castle. While I can't guarantee that your three hundred Galleons will be refunded, I do think it's important that we don't gloss over a situation like that." She passed him a cup. "What do you know about this prisoner, and what has the Auror Division done so far?"

This was their first and last chance, owed entirely to Ariadne's pure-blood connections with important people like Madam Bones. Remus curled his hands around the cup, but did not drink. "Madam Bones, I think you've heard of Cassandra Vablatsky, the famous Seer," he began. "She has a granddaughter named Veleta, who is a Locospector..." He tried to hurry the story into the five minutes that a busy Ministry official would be able to spare him.

Madam Bones poised a Quick-Quotes Quill over a parchment and listened without interrupting, holding Remus's gaze over the rim of her tea-cup. She remained so silent that Remus wondered whether she were even taking him seriously, although the endless scratching of the Quill assured him that she was indeed absorbing his words.

"... we believe the Aurors' conclusion completely failed to account for the possibility that something was preventing Miss Vablatsky from telling the truth."

The Quill skidded to a halt, paused as if waiting for him to speak further, then hopped down to horizontal. Remus pretended to sip at his cold tea, then abandoned the cup. Madam Bones ran her eye down the parchment, and then looked up again.

"A very disturbing story," she said. "Most immediately, because there has been another attempt on Ariadne's life."

"Ariadne is recovering well. But, yes, it is disturbing that a wizard would choose this method of protecting his castle. Madam Bones, I did try to register a complaint, but once the Aurors realised that I was involved with an illegal Portkey case, they wouldn't listen."

"The Portkey offence is now expiated, so I will authorise an investigation of the Macnairs' barrier today. While they have the right to refuse entry to any unwanted visitor, they shouldn't make the barrier invisible and then cry ‘trespass' against anyone who happens to step across it. And they should certainly stop short of murder in making their point. I haven't forgotten, you know, that it was the Macnairs who attacked Ariadne last March. Now, you say there was some claim that this magical barrier doesn't hurt everyone - only what they call ‘banned' people?"

"That was Miss Vablatsky's story."

"In other words, she admits that the Macnairs are conducting some kind of personal vendetta against specific individuals. That suggests to me that - unless she's completely stupid - Miss Vablatsky is quite willing to betray the Macnair family's secrets. However, it still won't stand up in court as evidence of unlawful detainment. Mr Lupin, did you pick up on the other aspect of your story that automatically indicates illegal activity? Do you understand why the Portkey failed to transport the children?"

"No. I only wish I did. If I'd known how to extract the children from the castle - "

She held up her hand. "Mr Lupin, you miss the point. I know something about Portkeys - since my job requires me to curtail their abuse. The reason they are so heavily regulated is that they are very powerful magical objects. Your Portkey transported Miss Vablatsky, so there was nothing wrong with it; it ought to have transported her children. If it failed, that suggests to me that some spell had been cast on the children to render them immune to Portkeys."

Remus's mind raced. "But that's illogical - " He stopped; he didn't want Madam Bones to reach the conclusion that was now staring at him.

But Madam Bones was following up a different train of thought. "These transport-immune spells would not be possible in any of the commonly-used forms of magic," she confirmed, "since they would have the effect of making the person concerned a prisoner. While an anti-Portkey spell is not illegal of itself, in practice I don't see how anyone could cast one without using some form of illegal magical methodology." In case he had not grasped it, she added, "Whoever enchanted those children must have resorted to the Dark Arts."

"So... can it be investigated?"

"It can and must be; but I warn you that practitioners of the Dark Arts are usually very good at covering their tracks. Meanwhile..." Half a dozen Wizengamot members walked past and Madam Bones checked her watch. "Bother. I have to return to the courtroom. Thank you for telling me your story, Mr Lupin. Give Ariadne my regards, and assure her I'll look into it."

When Ariadne finally Banished her overalls upstairs - at around half-past six - her face was so drawn and haggard that Remus expected her to faint, and she was carrying a basket of kittens. She said she was glad he was home, and began pouring milk into a saucer as she asked after the trial.

"Ariadne, do you think Professor Jigger is taking seriously what the Healer said about your taking things easily?"

Her voice dropped several decibels. "Of course. He's taken my week in hospital from my annual leave without requiring me to make up any of the hours I've missed." Reverting to her usual volume, "Remus, what happened today? They've let you come home: is that good news?"

She had to know eventually, of course. "Ariadne, it will be three hundred Galleons."

She wrapped her arms around him and nodded. "But it was not Azkaban."

"That was never likely. But, sweetheart, do you know what this means?"

"It means I've used all our money. I've set up a herb garden and a laboratory. This fine will cost us the last of our savings. There's no more for - for any other emergency." She pulled out of his arms to right a black kitten just before it fell into the milk bowl.

He wondered what she had nearly said - what "other emergency" had she had in mind? But she looked so fragile and exhausted at the end of this very stressful day that he didn't like to intrude. "So, are you going to tell me why you've brought five kittens into our household?"

"It's nothing - research, like the rats. You've had the busy day: I'm wanting to hear about it."

He swallowed the endless question, "Why do you persevere with Jigger?" for he did know why really. Instead, he brought the casserole out of the oven, while she pulled dinner plates out of the cupboard by hand; it seemed she was too tired to attempt a charm.

She sat quietly, with eyes brilliantly bright in her pale face, while he dredged up every detail of the trial, then told her what Madam Bones had said. And she asked exactly the same question that had occurred to him.

"But why would they make the children Portkey-proof and not Veleta herself? Does that mean that it's the bairns whom they are wanting to keep in Foss - and not Veleta at all?"

"They wanted Veleta enough to keep her behind the barrier," Remus reminded her. "But, yes, I am wondering why they didn't bother to secure her detention with whatever method they used on the children. I'm quite sure it wasn't due to a scruple against using Dark Magic."

They talked around in circles for the next half-hour, but their only conclusion was that there was nothing they could do until they heard from Amelia Bones again. Meanwhile, Remus had an exam the next day.

On Boxing Day Remus said they should visit Mrs Pettigrew.

"Should? Are you not wanting to see your friend's mother?"

"Of course I want to."

Mrs Pettigrew seemed pleased to see them. "It's a very cold day. I'm thinking the water will be frozen in the pipes before winter ends. My Peter knew a wonderful warming charm that kept the water flowing. But when I try it, the water's always too lukewarm for drinking."

Was this a hint? While Remus was arranging his thoughts, Ariadne asked, "Mrs Pettigrew, are you wishing Remus to charm your pipes?"

"He's welcome to try it, but I'm not thinking anybody could manage as neatly as my Peter."

"Of course not. But Remus could maybe manage an approximation."

Mrs Pettigrew showed Remus to the back door and waved him out into a light snow-shower. He found the pipes at the back of the house and cast the Thermo. The trick was to set the temperature to only a couple of degrees above zero.

When he returned indoors, Mrs Pettigrew was showing Ariadne her photograph albums of Peter. "And here he is in his Hogwarts uniform. We were so proud when he became a Gryffindor."

"Remus tells me often how brave he was."

"And here he is with his friend Owen, who was murdered right at the beginning of You-Know-Who's reign of terror. Owen was Peter's best friend, so You-Know-Who cast a dark shadow over his life right from the beginning. This is a few months later - Peter with James and Remus... and I'm sure you know why the edge of the photograph has been ripped off. I'm not needing to tell you who was standing next to James Potter, pretending to be Peter's friend. I do not speak his name - as far as I'm concerned, this person is the other He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Suffice that it's He-Who-Killed-Peter..."

Mrs Pettigrew had so much to say that Remus did not need to add much to Ariadne's polite murmurs.

"... and this is the Loch Ness Kelpie, just half an hour before it ate Peter's dear father. That was a horrific day, you know... the monstrous waves, the blood-curdling screams, the ominous overhead thunder... and my husband, tangled in the beast's coils... thrashing and struggling and pulling at the scales... plunged under the cold water until I was sure he must be drowned, then thrown up to the sky for just long enough to take a gasping breath, before being once again caught by those terrible coils... it was almost a relief when he hit his head on a rock and died quickly..."

"A dramatic dramatic death," said Ariadne, with a strange look on her face.

"Oh, desperately dramatic!" agreed Mrs Pettigrew. "It was all over the Daily Prophet! It was the first non-murder death in a decade to have been considered newsworthy. We had reporters crawling all over this house, just begging us for an interview. Six months later, Rita Skeeter came round to publish me in the Witch Weekly. It was the sweetest article - all about the sorrows of widows, and how I was putting a personal tragedy behind me to concentrate on the public efforts against You-Know-Who, and how the public should spare a thought for those of us who were grief-laden for reasons other than Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I have that article yet. I'll show it to you, if you'll give me a minute..."

"That's kind," interrupted Remus, "but I'm afraid we have another appointment, and must be home before dark."

"Mrs Pettigrew, thank you so much for showing me those pictures of Peter," said Ariadne, standing as she spoke. "I've always been wanting to know more about him." She extended her hand. "Happy New Year!"

Twenty-four hours later, Remus was in bed, sleeping off the effects of another Transformation. He was confused about not having enjoyed his visit to Mrs Pettigrew, and grateful that Ariadne had seemed to know how to talk to her. The air was very cold, and he wondered whether his stiff bones were because of the Transformation, or whether he were in need of ordinary Pepper-up.

He awoke properly when Ariadne brought him some kind of potion. Her face was grave. "My parents are coming to stay for the weekend," she told him. "I told them that we've no spare bedroom, and that Professor Jigger will not give me time off, and that you have not been well. But they're wishing to come anyway."

He tried not to look annoyed. When the MacDougals gave such clear hints they expected other people to understand them; why were they choosing to ignore the same hints from Ariadne?

"Dearest, I know it would be easier for us to go to them, and at a better time. But they are wanting to see our house..." she sounded doubtful about this, "... and I was not wanting to field questions about your illness."

There was a mew from the doorway; Ariadne must have let the kittens out of the laboratory.

Kittens? These little animals were white, and covered with soft curly fleeces...

"You're not needing to tell me," she said ruefully. "My experiment went wrong again. The rats lost their fleeces within twenty-four hours. I'm hoping the cats will be cats again by the time my parents arrive."

It was not just Ariadne's parents who stepped through the Floo on Saturday afternoon, but also Kenneth and Janet and their children. First Remus had to make them understand why Ariadne was not home; Mrs MacDougal was very concerned, and said, "But if Professor Jigger will not keep to Guild regulations, I'm hoping you'll insist, Remus."

Then he had to show them around the house. Mr MacDougal admired the staircase, the bathroom tiles, the handsome dimensions of the bedroom, and the "diligent habits" suggested by the orderliness of the study. Mrs MacDougal admired the kitchen range, the laboratory, the airing cupboard ("Is it adapted from a Muggle model?") and the number of books. They worked so hard at finding details to compliment that Remus could not be fooled; the house was too ugly, too shabby, too Muggle. They must have noticed that he didn't show them the garage, but they asked no questions.

By the time they returned to the living room, the smell of lentil soup, cashew loaf and sprouts au gratin was so obvious that Janet asked, "Do you not eat meat?"

"Not often," he admitted. He could almost hear his parents-in-law exchange the question of whether his problem were a weak heart, a slender wallet, radical-fringe politics or an outlandish religion.

Fortunately Ariadne arrived home at that moment. Unfortunately, over the course of dinner the inquisition not only switched to focusing on her, but became far more pointed.

"This is a well-sized room - it could comfortably house a formal dining suite. Are you thinking of buying one?"

This was code for "Remus does not earn enough money." Ariadne replied, "Remus once Transfigured this table into a wonderful Sheraton suite. He'll maybe show you after dinner. But it would be too grand for every day."

"But you must be regretting that you have no Wireless or gramophone."

"We are too busy to miss them, Mamma. We are more comfortable in a quiet house."

"Remus must find it difficult to work among Muggles. Mr Nott could help him find a job in the Ministry."

"That would be kind of Mr Nott; but Remus enjoys his work and is not wishing to change."

"To speak of old friends, the Macnairs have curtailed their trip to Korea. I'm thinking Remus has never met the Macnair family properly. Why do you not owl Regelinda and invite her over?"

"The Macnairs have already sent us a message, Papa."

"Perhaps you forget to send messages because you have no owl. We can give you an owl if you're needing one."

"I should maybe write to people more often," Ariadne placated. She took two decks of cards out of the kitchen drawer. "Does Morag know how to play rummy?"

Remus was grateful that all the MacDougals accepted this cue as an unfloutable order to play rummy. They played six-handed, with Morag as Ariadne's partner and Aidan sitting on Janet's lap. The game was of limited suspense, because Morag kept asking questions like, "Can I meld with our five clubs?" and "Why can I not discard the king if he's no use to us?" Aidan was very taken by the artistic value of his mother's cards, and kept announcing, "Blackberry! S'awberry! Lady!" until he finally turned her hand right around to face her opponents so that he could examine the backs with an admiring, "Castle!"

Kenneth took shameless advantage of these exposures, so that Remus found himself close to gloating when he discovered that he himself could go out first. While Mr MacDougal calculated scores for the first round, Remus drew in the cards for the next deal, and one of the painted court cards dug sharp teeth into his palm.

"Remus, what's wrong?" Ariadne's response was instant.

"Nothing, I..." Did he really think a sheet of cardboard had bitten him? But when he held up his hand, blood was leaking out of what looked exactly like a ring of tooth-marks. "It's only a scratch. Let's deal." He told himself that the Jack of Hearts was not really laughing at him.

Kenneth did win the next round, and Mrs MacDougal dealt the third hand. By this time Morag had mastered the rules, and she sat quietly on Ariadne's lap, gazing at her cards with round eyes, discreetly pointing at their next move. Now Kenneth was frowning, and making some distinctly short-sighted moves. It was Janet who quietly laid her final sequence onto the table, and her father-in-law who drew the cards towards him for the next shuffle. But before he had the last one in his hand, the Queen of Clubs seemed to stick to his thumb and almost crunched.

"Good gracious!" Mr MacDougal sucked his thumb, which was bleeding. "Who hexed these cards?"

"This is absurd," said Kenneth. "Cards do not bite. Deal!" And Mr MacDougal was parcelling out cards before Remus had time to suggest that they might be better off choosing a different activity.

This round Remus's mind was not on the game. He had five threes in his hand, but he forgot to meld. Then he discarded a seven that he needed to keep. He was brought down to earth by a shriek from Janet.

"They are hexed! That King of Diamonds was not wanting to lie on the table!" Two of her fingers were dripping blood out of a ring of tooth-marks.

"Accio, cards!" ordered Remus. "No more play tonight."

"I'm going to bathe Aidan," said Janet.

After that there was a great deal of fuss with putting out towels and soap in the bathroom, finding a bucket for Aidan's nappies, placing sound-barriers around the study windows so that Aidan wouldn't be disturbed by the city traffic, and Conjuring thicker curtains so he wouldn't be distracted by the street lamps. ("City Muggles are to be congratulated on ever managing to sleep at all.") Remus reduced his desk and bookcase to the size of matchboxes, while Kenneth restored the shrunk lilos that he had brought from Kincarden, but there wasn't room for all four of them in the study. Janet suggested shrinking one lilo down again and letting Aidan lie head-to-feet with Morag. After ten minutes of politely insincere discussion ("I'm not thinking it would really be uncomfortable," and, "They will not be so restless as to disturb anybody during the night") Kenneth agreed to do it.

It took Remus the best part of twenty minutes to recognise that the guests did not need him upstairs: whatever trouble it was costing them to settle, they were enjoying the process and not really uncomfortable. He went downstairs, intending to boil the kettle, and found Morag alone in the living room.

For a moment he stopped still in the doorway, transfixed with horror. Morag was building a card-castle. It was quite elaborate, with turrets sticking out of the second storey as if glued there by magic, and the fourth storey was steepling impossibly towards a pinnacle. As he moved forward to distract her from the game, she gleefully picked up the King of Spades and balanced him at the topmost point with a triumphant, "There! He's the King of the Castle!"

For some reason, the cards never seemed to bite Morag.