A Flash of Silver at the Laxey Wheel

Sunlight was just beginning to spill into the valley when Remus left the road and began to walk up the muddy track. The hills that loomed over the village were black-browed and ominous and the clouds behind him were heavy with rain. Ahead of him the red wheel stood high on its hilltop, painted spokes stretching up into the sky.

It was too late in the season for tourists and the café at the end of the track had closed for the winter. That wasn't a problem: the hotel in Douglas had made up a packed lunch for him and he had passed three pubs since getting off the bus. He crossed the tiny bridge, pausing for a moment to look down at the roaring water beneath.

Well. Of all the places he could have imagined turning up, it wasn't here. And yet there was something right about the island, something that seemed to reach into his innermost thoughts and calm them, no matter how turbulent they were. At times he felt accompanied by something nameless and old, wise with the wisdom of countless years; at other times he felt as alone as it was possible to be.

Well, he thought again. Where now? Not the trivial question of what to do with the day: he had come to visit the Laxey Wheel and here he was. The bigger question pulled at him, demanding an answer.

Where now? With the war over, the Wizarding World lay in ruins. The destruction of the Ministry, and particularly the Records Office, gave Remus more freedom than he had ever known. Very few people who had known him were left alive, and those that were would not betray his secret.

He climbed the stone steps and began the short trek towards the wheel, keeping the river to his left. The field on his right was spotted with rabbit holes and uneven clumps of grass. Grazing, he guessed, if it was used at all. There was enough land to go round.

I could reinvent myself, he thought as he walked. No more werewolf. No more stigma. Just Remus John Lupin. I could become the person I've always wanted to be.

The thought made him smile, and he stopped, laughing at himself. The person I've always wanted to be. Even if I knew who that was, where would I start?

At the end of the footpath, steps down led onto a wide sweep of tarmac. Stepping carefully to avoid slipping on the wet rock, Remus followed the curve of road around a corner to a kiosk and turnstile.

There was no-one about, so he placed an experimental hand on the turnstile and pushed. Nothing. Looking down, he saw that it was chained shut. He shrugged and leapt lightly up onto the grassy bank beside it, edging along the wire fence until he was past the turnstile and then dropping down onto the tarmac. Ahead of him stood the wheel, isolated and magnificent.

Spotting an information board, he walked over to it.

"The Great Laxey Wheel was built in 1854 to pump water from the Laxey mine. Named 'Lady Isabella' in honour of the Governor's wife, the wheel has a diameter of 72 feet 6 inches and is over six feet wide. At maximum power it is capable of pumping 250 gallons of water a minute up from a depth of almost 1,500 feet."

The wheel loomed above him, towering over the display board and the surrounding countryside. Remus shook his head, stepping back to get a proper view. Amazing what you can do without magic, if you put your mind to it. He turned his back on the wheel and wandered over to a low mound, where stones piled high on one another were now almost overgrown by grass. A second board stood nearby.

"This pitiful heap of stones is all that remains of a miner's cottage, abandoned many years ago when the mine at Laxey closed for the last time. Life for the miners was hard and fraught with danger, and many died underground, leaving their wives and children penniless. Those who survived were often crippled by appalling injuries, for which no compensation was payable."

No compensation was payable. Remus drew a deep breath. Just pick up the pieces and move on. Yeah. He stepped up to the board, and looked at the faces of the miners in the photograph, then reached out tentatively to touch the face of a young man on the bottom right of the group. The miner stared straight back at him, unmoving and unsmiling. Remus let his hand fall and walked away.

Pick up the pieces. Start over. Move on. Stay. Help pick up the pieces. Move on. A flight of steps spiralled up into the trees on his right. Remus sat down on the bottom step and buried his head in his hands.

Pick up the pieces. There was a role for him to play, if he wanted to take it. The Wizarding World had a shortage of talented adult wizards, and would have for some time to come.

Start over. He shook his head, and thought, I've spent thirty years as a werewolf. I'm not sure I know how to be Remus John Lupin anymore. I'm not even sure I know who Remus John Lupin is.

Move on. It was tempting. There was a whole world out there, just waiting to be seen. Just drop everything and go. I can always come back when I'm ready.

Pick up the pieces. Hogwarts would need a Defence teacher. The job was his, if he wanted it. He wasn't sure he did.

I can always come back.

Start over.

When I'm ready.

If he ever was.

Move on.

He rose to his feet and climbed a little further up the trail, threading his way along a gravelled path streaked with mud, until he came to the old adit. The door into the open shaft was locked and chained. Reaching into his pocket for his wand, Remus considered a quick Alohomora, but rapidly discarded the idea. Mine shafts were all very well in bright light, and with good company, but he had no desire to fall down one in October if the next visitors were not due until March. He turned left, stubbing a toe on unseen trolley rails, and stood staring up at the viaduct which carried the pump rods from the wheel to the mine workings.

The river had been diverted and raised, he knew, to give a greater head of water for the wheel. Here it tumbled carelessly down wet rocks in a drop of perhaps fifteen or twenty feet. A third board caught Remus' eye and he drifted across.

"At its peak in the 1870s, the Laxey mine produced one fifth of Britain's total zinc output and significant amounts of lead and copper. Waste from the mine seeped into the River Laxey and its tributaries, rendering them toxic to wildlife for many years after the mine closed. A long-term conservation project has begun, in an attempt to restore the land and waters of Laxey. Pied wagtails are now common on the site, and trout have begun to return to the river in ever-increasing numbers. Unfortunately, the salmon which were once so abundant, and which gave the river its name (the word 'Laxa' means 'salmon river' in Norse), have yet to return."

Remus gripped the rusted handrail and looked down into the clear water. A blackbird chirruped at him from the other bank, then took refuge in a gorse bush in a flurry of wings. From the trees behind him came a chorus of birdsong. It was as if the whole valley was singing.

He looked up at the viaduct, at the muddy track to the abandoned adit. Letting go of the handrail, he turned away, facing back down the valley towards Laxey village and the sea - then turned back, staring at the stream.

The salmon, once so abundant and which gave the river its name, have yet to return.

They were wrong.

He stood motionless, holding the handrail tightly. Below him in the splashing water threaded a flash of pure silver, twisting and turning with joy in the pale autumn sun.

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