When Magic is Useless

When Magic is Useless: Chapter 5

Indus

Immediately after the last chapter

"Hello," Ash said politely. "I didn't know school was on yet."

"It isn't," his sister, little though she knew it, panted as she recovered her breath. "But some of us came over to see what we could do, and spend some time with Dad." Though she did not say it, and there was a martial glint in her eye that warned those around her that she would not bear to hear it, it immediately occurred to all of them that time with Ron Weasley was now shortened. Wizards could live many years longer than the average Muggle, so early deaths were especially tragic in the community.

Shawn smiled and shook the young healer's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Winton." He spent most of his summer and winter breaks in his father's shop, so the two of them had met many times in Diagon Alley. It was as impossible not to like Shawn as it had been to dislike Fred and George; however, Ash was often grateful that he had never had to face being a prefect during this trio and Art's years in Hogwarts.

Still, there was a politeness to Shawn that had never been very apparent in Fred's demeanor that spoke of Mrs. George Weasley's training. Ellyn, a Muggle-born Hufflepuff, had been a nanny until very shortly after she met George while walking with her charges through his shop. It was love at first sight, and within months she had left her work and was married to George, but she did not want to give up working altogether. Instead, she earned extra money (not that she needed it- Fred and George's shop and mail-order catalogue were flourishing) by running a day-care for children of working wizards and witches. It was a good thing that her husband earned more than enough money for them to live well as she refused to charge family members despite the prodigious amount of children they produced, particularly Percy and Penelope.

Ash's eyes were drawn to his sister's pale, strained face. She had once been the bane of his existence, but at times like this it was difficult not to remember holding her hand in Flourish and Blotts while Hermione paid for her books. 'Don't let go of her,' his mother had warned, 'she's your responsibility.' Strange, how feelings of guilt and protectiveness could survive all other emotions. But then again, if love for these people, his family, had stopped with Alexander Weasley's death, would he be at Hogwarts at this moment?

Whatever the reason, love or guilt, he couldn't let this sixteen year-old girl look so sad and worried for long. He reached out to hold her shoulder tightly. "Don't worry, it'll be all right."

She gazed back at him unflinchingly. "I stopped believing that almost seven years ago. Things don't always come out all right."

It was Ash who couldn't find the courage to meet her gaze, and confront the demons created by his absence. Instead, he turned to the third of the group, and shook James' hand. "Going to be starting your last year now, are you?"

James was obviously flustered by this shift from comforting friend of the family to polite acquaintance, and stammered an appropriate reply. But Remus Lupin, who had come up behind Ash quietly to greet the young healer, narrowed his eyes in confusion, and then cleared his face of any expressions other than a welcoming smile when Ash turned around.

"Hello, Mr. Winton. Hogwarts is pleased to have you here, despite the less than pleasant circumstances of course." His greeting wasn't as smooth as one expected from the wise and kind wizard who was considered very similar to the late Dumbledore by all those with the ability to look beyond wretched prejudices, but his audience put his stumbling down to recent events. Although Remus never showed any favoritism in his classroom or as Deputy Headmaster, it was no secret that Harry, Hermione and Ron remained close to his heart.

But though the Crimson Death curse weighed deeply on Remus' mind and soul, another idea was awakening. He had met Ash only once before at Harry's house and the incident had been too short and formal for the younger man to make a deep impression. But now he had seen Ash interacting with the children, and something about the entire exchange had struck him as strange. Professor Lupin did not know why yet, but he was convinced that there was more to the healer than he had been led to believe. He would keep a close eye on him.

And he did. Over the next several weeks, Ash spent most of his time in the infirmary or in the library with Hermione, researching a cure to the disease. He rarely ate without a book in his hand, and limited his interaction with everyone so successfully that in the first three weeks he managed not to meet Sirius, Salazar or any of the children again. He worked steadily and quietly with Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape, with whom he got along surprisingly well as he only spoke when necessary, never argued, and demonstrated his mother's talent with potions without her allegiance to Gryffindor or Harry Potter.

He did not meet Harry at all, as the latter had to leave his best friends and return to his own home and family, taking the children back with him. Ro and Phillip were to pack up their parents belongings before their return, as it was apparent a cure would require a great deal of time and it was decided that Ron should remain at Hogwarts during the process. Where Ron stayed, Hermione would also, and as Ro was a student and Phillip only eight, far too young to be separated from his parents for a lengthy period of time, their children would live at Hogwarts too.

His seclusion did not go unnoticed, and most of the others put it down to awe and insecurity on being inside the famous castle and institution, combined with a natural diffidence on the part of someone who, as Art had told them, did not seem to have much practice living with large groups of people. Healer schools were small and quiet, and the one he had attended was famous for its very successful curriculum that included large blocks of time every day being set aside for introspection and meditation so that the healer could learn to become one with the body of the patient.

And that he was well trained and educated, yet innovative, was obvious to even the most unobservant person. Upon his arrival and his first look at his father, he had begun testing his various healing potions and stimulants on Ron until the older wizard seemed stronger and more vital. It was not a cure; it was not even stopping the progression of the curse, but it seemed to alleviate some of the most draining qualities of it.

For that alone, Hermione would have loved him, for when Ron hurt, so did she, and nothing in the books or even the lack of information had frightened her as much as seeing her husband weak and listless. Harry had been like that after some of the more tragic and haunting events of his years at Hogwarts, but Ron had always been the loud, often gauche, and complaining red-haired wizard who could never sit still without fidgeting. The day after he had taken the restorative that worked the best, she had walked into their room to find him sending a dungbomb to Percy, and rather than look reproachful, she had burst into tears of relief to see the old Ron back. It was a reaction that unnerved him a great deal as she tended to take the third Weasley brother's side when any of the others played pranks on him. Of course, that was nothing to how unnerved Ash was when Hermione tracked him down to his quarters and hugged him fiercely. He had not been held like that for almost seven years.

But as she worked with the son she thought was dead, Hermione grew to respect him greatly. Although she could not recognize it in herself, he had his mother's ability to work hard and flawlessly, and recollect details in books he had read days before. As this work was the most important she had ever done, Hermione appreciated his no-nonsense approach and quiet dedication to his research, although that prevented her from getting to know him at all despite the hours they spent looking for a cure together. Ron was, in fact, developing more of a relationship as they played chess when Ash came to give him his daily dose of the restorative. Ash had been practicing the wizarding version, though he would have been hard-pressed to answer if anyone had asked him why, and he was now a formidable opponent for his father, who had been unmatched since Dumbledore's death.

Remus, Professor McGonagall and he interacted little, for the former two were busy preparing for the new school year, and ways in which to accommodate Ron's illness. They would do both willingly; McGonagall was still good friends with Hermione and Ron's children called Remus grandfather. But despite his duties, Remus found time in his busy schedule to drop in unexpected for quick visits with Hermione and Ash in the library, to see how Ron was doing during the chess games and to ask Snape if he had any ingredients that needed reordering. Ash found this strange, but did not realize that he was being observed until he found Remus touring the greenhouses every morning at just the time the nineteen year-old came to check on certain plants that he was harvesting for his healing potions.

Finally, three weeks after his arrival, Remus interrupted Ash's solitary work on one of his rose/mandrake hybrids, asking the latter if he was doing all right in the castle.

Ash was surprised at the interruption, and a little afraid of the wise eyes that seemed to see too much, too fast. With Hermione and Ron so consumed by the curse, he had wanted to avoid the werewolf the most, remembering that next to his mother it had always been hardest to fool this man. Sirius had often said that the wolf could smell lies as well as fear, and a Marauder knew a good prank when he saw one. So he strove to sound normal, and tried not to sweat or show nervousness in any way. "I'm doing all right. This castle is always comfortable, and quiet. Though I'm sure it is not that way during the school year."

"No, most certainly not," Professor Lupin snorted. "But I'm afraid the serenity shall be disturbed early this year. We've decided to invite Ron's family- yes, all of them- to Hogwarts to spend time with him. Most of the adults have to work, and therefore had to decline, but they are sending the children who are old enough to leave. Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger and only sister, is putting her latest book on hold and will be taking care of the children. Have you read any of her books?"

"I- I don't- I might have." Ash was caught off guard by the question in the middle of an explanation, and stumbled over the lies he did not have to tell. After all, one did not have to be the author's nephew to read books that spent more time on the bestseller's list than any other writer in three centuries.

Remus went on as if he hadn't noticed anything strange about Ash's answer. "Yes, well, most people have. Her husband, Draco Malfoy, can probably do a better job on the Board of Governors living in the school itself. Ron's older brothers, the twins I'm sure you met in Diagon Alley, Fred and George are trying to work out if one of them can come, but their business is too great and Art will not be there to help so it is doubtful that you will see them much. I cannot wait to see how relieved Filch is when he finds that out. Ellyn, George's wife will be here giving the youngest children lessons as they will not be attending grammar school while they are at Hogwarts. The next oldest brother, Percy, and his wife Penelope cannot take time away from their work, but I am sure they will pop in and out often. Percy has always cared deeply for Ron; all the Weasleys were close. Bill cannot come, which may be a good thing as he does not handle his siblings' illnesses well. He was closest to the one that died whose name I can't seem to remember"-

"Charlie." Ash's breath caught in his throat as he realized what had slipped out, in front of the Deputy Headmaster of all people. But Hermione's son didn't have to search too long for some way to cover his error. "Art told me about him."

Remus gazed at him steadily, his eyes expressing both shock and amusement. "You shouldn't lie to me, you're terrible at it. Or maybe I'm just very good at seeing lies; Sirius used to say that the wolf inside of me could smell truth, and the absence of it. That's nonsense, of course, or I would have known Peter was a traitor and my spouse would not have spent a dozen years in Azkaban under the dementors. In your case, I'm afraid my methods of detection were mundane and quite uninteresting."

"You checked into my background, and you found that Laz had recommended me into the healing school. And how many 13 year-olds would Laz have done that for? And you're right, you can't smell fear, but my par- Ron and Hermione always said that it was difficult concealing things from you, especially the invisibility cloak, and you can sense glamour spells. You've been using them since you were four years old." Ash was proud that his voice never wavered, while his heart seemed to have stopped inside.

"Yes, and Laz would have told me if he had done that if it had been all above-board, and even if he had said some lie to appease me, his behavior was suspicious to say the least. He has avoided you constantly, to the point of learning how to cook so that he doesn't have to come to the Dining Hall. But I think I recognized you the moment I met you at Hogwarts, in the same place I last saw you almost seven years ago. And if they weren't so busy, looked beyond the obvious, and hadn't struggled so hard for so long to accept your death, fighting not to see you in every child they saw, your family would have recognized you too."

"There's nothing to recognize. I'm not Alexander Weasley anymore; I can't be him."

Remus smiled sadly, the aged eyes soft and gentle as his voice. "I know what it's like to have a monster inside of you that eats at your soul, just as I know that the person you were before the monster can have little in common with the person you are now. But the thing I've always found fascinating about your family, the Weasleys, is that you are so numerous that there cannot help but be variety, and the differences don't seem to count at all. You don't have to be Alexander; they'll be more than happy to love Ash Winton. And, if you'll not mind hearing my opinion, it seems that Ash could use their strong shoulders to lean on just as much as Alexander did." He didn't say more, but it was clear to the younger wizard that the werewolf Professor would not be silent for long. Unlike Laz, Remus had too strong a sense of ethics to keep such a secret from Ron and Hermione for long unless Ash could give him a good reason.

He searched for one, and in the end settled for the truth. "I can't, not yet. Give me the chance to get to know them, and let them get to know me. Then, perhaps, we can develop a new relationship as the people we are now, and not the ones we used to be."

Remus smiled, and reached out to grasp Ash's chin gently. "You've chosen a difficult path, but you've come along it fine so far, and I have no qualms in trusting you to do the right thing at the right time. I am so proud of you, but not surprised. There are great things in you, most of them your own, but some that have been passed to you in your blood. Your mother is a great woman, and your father a great man, but you have a family that is older than these walls, that was created well before that tree unfurled its first leaf, and that will outlive Hogwarts itself, and that is powerful magic indeed. Revisit it, and see if it can help you with your quest to save Ron's life, and your own."

"I- I don't understand." The weather was fine, he could hear birds chirping, but for some reason he could also feel the wind picking up, and the static of lightning just outside the greenhouses.

"Don't you? And I've always prided myself on being much less cryptic than Dumbledore. I was in Professor McGonagall's library- and no, there is no mention of Crimson Death there- and I came across a very interesting piece of trivia about magic predating Hogwarts. I wish you could read the book, but access to that library is restricted for very good reasons, for some knowledge is dangerous in even the purest hands."

Laughing wryly, Ash added, "Especially in the purest hands, I'd say!"

But he deliberated long over Professor Lupin's words, and eventually went to the library to study something other than the curse that had occupied everyone's attention for the past few weeks. Hermione and Ron did not even notice as they were consumed in the preparations for the arrival of their family, while Snape and Sirius were in the throes of a large and heated argument that was offering no one more enjoyment than the participants over Sirius' request for Polyjuice potion for his fifth years as it was forbidden for them to make it themselves. It took him several hours, but he found what he had not known he was searching for.

"Rosemary- Nature's Remembrance, the prime ingredient for the Progenitus spell," he read out loud, his voice echoing in what he thought was solitude.

"Difficult magic, especially since neither of us are close to the potions master my father is, but I fancy with your competence and my expertise with the spell part of it, we should succeed. After all, with a family as- what's the word? - distinct as yours, we should not have to try so hard."

Ash turned, and for the first time in years, looked into the eyes of Salazar Snape. The young man had his father's nose, and talent for sneering, but his face was lighter, less scarred and sallow, so that he resembled the brooding hero that had been so popular in those Victorian books his Muggle grandmother had kept in her window seat. And while he stared at those mocking eyes, Laz slipped seamlessly and irrevocably from his position as savior to something new and wholly unexpected in the complicated chaos that was Ash Winton's brain.

It took some time to process Laz' words, but to his credit Ash's voice was steady when he replied. "You know the spell, then? Could it have killed you to mention it a little earlier?"

"Calm down, young... Winton. I've come across it in Dumbledore's notes, but I have little idea of what it does and for reasons that do not need expressing, I do not wish to dwell on anything that deals with the past. My late ancestors could never be a comfort to me; my father is still living and he is the only Snape I would ever take advice from, and before him I would listen a hundred times to our wise and esteemed Deputy Headmaster. But Weasleys are far more generous, and it is very plausible that this will work."

"What do you know about it?" His voice was clipped, but his body relaxed. He had expected conversing with the one person who had kept his secret for half a dozen years, who had in fact played a large part in creating his identity, would be difficult, but the opposite was true. It was incredibly relieving to not have to guard his speech, and unlike Professor Lupin, he knew Laz could be trusted.

"It's a spell that requires the ingestion of a potion immediately before the words are chanted, and is not used frequently because of several reasons, beginning with the fact that speaking with the exact inflection necessary is difficult, as is the creation of the potion. Moreover, the matter at hand must be soul-deep important to the person casting the spell, and concerning a member of the same ancestral line as otherwise it would be difficult to appeal to a dead Weasley. And since it has not been attempted for many years, no one quite knows how it works and what it accomplishes, but what we do know is that it is an appeal for the progenitors, those who have seeded you and your father, to assist you in this hour of need." Laz' voice was almost casual, but an eager gleam in his eye betrayed his interest. He'd always loved a good challenge, and trying to cast a spell that hadn't been used for centuries sounded especially exciting.

"Well then, let's get started," Ash grinned, looking like the little boy he'd once been.

*

It took them months to brew the potion and reconstruct the correct inflexion of the spell, especially as they could not let anyone into the secret without disclosing how exactly Ron and Ash sprung from the same progenitor. But between his work in the day assisting in the search for a counter-curse, and his work in the night with Laz, Ash was able to avoid any social interaction with members of the family he had once thought he could leave behind.

Meanwhile, his relationship with Laz was progressing nicely, if a little slower than he would have liked. The former Slytherin and he were becoming friends, not in the close-as-brothers way that Ash and Art were, but as a stepping-stone to something bigger and deeper. Everyone thought they were dating since they spent so much time together in the evenings and until the early hours of the morning, but they would all have been shocked to know that their relationship was still basically platonic. Moreover the person holding back was not the shy young man who always demanded several feet of personal space, but rather the more sophisticated and cynical guardian of Hogwarts. It was Laz who pulled back every time the slightest hint of romance entered into their meetings or conversations. When Ash finally called him on his behavior, Laz lightly explained that his role in this Weasley melodrama was, while not that of a soul mate- the type of platonic friend who instinctively knows your moods and who is always your first companion be it in the midst of a party or just one-on-one on a Lazy holiday morning- for Art was that friend, but rather that of a secret-keeper. And until Ash was ready to let that secret out into the open, that was all he could be because anything else could deprive the still-vulnerable nineteen-year-old of the one person with whom life was a little less complicated and a lot more honest, and who was not pressuring him constantly to expose his first identity as Professor Lupin was doing.

But finally, near the end of the fall term, they were ready to cast the spell, and they had managed to keep the entire scheme a secret from everyone else at the school where an aged wizard had once laughingly bemoaned the impossibility of maintaining a shroud of secrecy over the most important of confidential matters.

"Apello Progenitus!" He swished his wand in the manner his mother had taught him before he had ever met Ollivander, and tried not to think about the churning in his stomach caused by the potion he just drank. He wouldn't think of the fact that this was an incredibly complex potion for someone so young, even if that person happened to be the son of a woman who had created her first batch of Polyjuice potion before she was a teenager.

He closed his eyes and waited several beats, but nothing happened, and when he opened his eyes his gaze met Laz'. The normally inscrutable young man was looking adorably perplexed, and he found himself stifling laughter at the sight of the dour Ward keeper with his father's face worrying his lip in confusion. But before he could utter a word, his legs seemed to lose all their strength, and his vision began to grey. He fell backwards onto the floor, and above him the ceiling began to change. They were not in the Great Hall, as it was hardly safe for them to cast a secret spell in the most popular room in the school, and, as he regained the strength to rise to his feet, he realized that he was no longer in the school at all.

He was back in the house he had been born in, his mother's library to be exact, and it looked exactly as he remembered it from the last day he had spent curled up on a soft, overstuffed armchair upholstered in deep green velvet. Of all the rooms in the house, this had been his favorite, and when things were at their most tumultuous, he had often retreated here in his mind.

"You are your mother's son, aren't you? I didn't know her too well, but Ron used to often say the library was her favorite place in the world too."

The voice was somehow familiar and strange at the same time, but when Ash turned around, he had no problem identifying the uncle he had never known. The Weasleys had not been able to afford portraits of all of their children, and he had been too young to take a great interest in photographs of an uncle he would never meet when there were so many others that were still alive, but he recognized the man before him immediately. "Charlie Weasley."

The red-haired man, not too many years older than the nephew whose birth had followed his by more than a quarter of a century, smiled. "I'm glad to see you know me. It will make this a great deal easier. But we must hurry as there is not much time, and you will be unable to recast the spell even if something is left unsaid."

"Why not?"

Charlie smiled wryly. "Didn't you think this was too easy? Oh, I know, you spent months, but if time and a little effort was all it took every wizard in the world would be trying to contact their ancestors at the slightest stress. Your father was not even allowed to contact us when he lost you, and with your mother making the potion, I can assure you he was as qualified as you. But the situation was different, and the rules were allowed to be bent to save the wizarding community."

"I was not aware that the wizarding community was in any peril," Ash's voice was dry, for he had given up more than one night of sleep for a spell that a man more known for his physical abilities than any great mental prowess called 'easy.'

"That's because you don't know what we know, and while I can't tell you much more, I will say that Ron needs to be alive for this story to end well. Without him, Hermione and Harry don't work as well, and the three of them are the only ones who can prevent the Dark Forces from prevailing."

"That sounds ominously similar to what occurred before with Voldemort. Are you sure you're not mixing up the past and future?" Ash examined his uncle closely, disturbed by the grave expression on a face that seemed more used to laughter. It was suddenly easy to recall that Charlie had been captured and killed by Death Eaters while working for an underground organization committed to Dumbledore's cause.

"You of all people should know that evil did not end with Voldemort. It is as constant as good."

At that, Ash lost his temper. "Well, if that's the case, what's the point in fighting it? And this time, I haven't seen anything that would suggest there is some power-hungry dark wizard seizing control of the community"-

"Don't be a fool! The greatest danger to the wizarding community never came from one man, but the fact that his ideas and desires could resonate with so many people. Voldemort was little more than a shadow of his former self for years until he was able to regain his servant. There is a danger out there, and it is no less venomous for that it does not stand out enough to be easily seen. It was serious enough to warrant the guardians of the spirit world allowing us to have this meeting for the first time in centuries. Now listen to me carefully: Hogwarts' library was embellished by many unsavory characters over the years, but there are libraries that are darker than the deepest abyss. You have access to the best of them; use it. And remember that there are problems of a far larger scale than yours, even if the scars they inflict pale in comparison to yours."

"What? Why do you have to be so dashed cryptic? I understand the first part- you mean the Malfoy Manor- but the second?"

Charlie smiled, and despite his youth at the time of his death, there was timeless wisdom in his smile that spoke of the fact that his existence was on an entirely different plane than Ash's. "You will, when the time comes, and like all the other members of our family, I believe you'll do the right thing when you have to. I have to leave, but before I do, I need you to give a message to my family."

Any remnants of irritation disappeared, for Ash could see how much the loss of this man still pained his family. He stood still and stared into Charlie's eyes. "It may take some time before I am in a position to, but I promise that I will."

"You need to tell Bill that he has to go on. Existing is not enough; he needs to live as he once did. I want him to grow out his hair and pierce himself in places that were not meant to have holes, and stop spending all his time in museums. And I'd like to see Fred settle down. He's been married five time to women who look like the girlfriend he lost, but aren't Angelina, so perhaps he needs to look for something else. But most of all, tell them that I am all right. This might not be what I dreamed of for my future, but this is certainly the greatest of adventures that we embark on."

"I will," Ash vowed, speaking around a lump in his throat that tasted vaguely of salt.

"Then, I suppose that's all. Let your broom steer you to victory and carry you home before dark." It was an old Quidditch player's benediction, and despite the circumstances it didn't seem incongruous at all.

"Wait- I have one question. Why did you appear, since you aren't really my progenitor?"

"There is little accuracy in the information you have on that spell. You are actually receiving advice from all your progenitors, but though I am not one of them, they are also my ancestors and they chose me to give you the message since you have at least heard of me. And thank you for reminding me of the last message they wanted me to give you."

"What is it?"

"We are all so proud of you, and what you have become."

Before he had time to process the words, Ash found himself closing his eyes to block out the glare that seemed to be coming from Charlie's body. When he opened them again, he was staring into the worried dark gaze of his co-conspirator, and he was back in Laz' work room.

THE END SO FAR