A Surfeit of Wands

Chapter Two: The Squib and the Sister

'Let me see that.' Lupin stood up and crossed the room in three long strides. He took the photograph from Dumbledore and examined it minutely, running a thoughtful finger over the writing on the back. When he put it down again, his face was vexed.

'It's definitely Harry. And that is definitely Caradoc's writing.' He frowned. 'I don't understand this.'

'Can I see it?' Harry asked, his voice unexpectedly high. Lupin glanced at Dumbledore, who gave the tiniest of nods. Harry watched the silent exchange, irritated. Lupin crossed the room again and handed Harry the photograph, squatting beside him while he looked at it.

Harry saw a baby with untidy black hair, eyes screwed up and fist balled in its mouth, obviously in the middle of a tantrum. There was something odd about the image and for a moment Harry could not make out what it was. Then he realised. The baby in the photograph had no scar.

'You spent a lot of time like that.' There was quiet amusement in Lupin's voice and Harry turned to look uncertainly at him.

'Screaming the place down?' He gave the baby a dubious look.

'Oh yes. Your favourite pastime, as I remember. That and puking up all over anyone who got in the way.' He gave a wry smile. 'We got very good at Cleaning Charms when we babysat for James and Lily.'

Harry smiled and turned the photograph over. On the back, the words Harry James Potter, July 1981 were written in a handwriting he did not recognise. He looked at the picture of himself again.

Unexpectedly, the baby stared at him with intense green eyes. Harry felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. The baby did not seem to feel the same way, however, for it closed its eyes again and went to sleep. Unable to speak, and with a strange lump in his throat, Harry handed the photograph back to Lupin.

Lupin spoke again. 'Is there any chance that Caradoc Dearborn is still alive?'

'That is the obvious question,' Dumbledore acknowledged. 'I think it is unlikely. We had word at the time that he had been captured and killed.'

'From a reliable source?' Hestia asked.

Dumbledore nodded. 'We had our spies among Voldemort's ranks. Just as he had his among ours.'

Wormtail, thought Harry savagely. I wish I'd killed him. It had not been true two years ago. He knew it was true now. If I'd let Sirius kill him in the Shrieking Shack, Voldemort wouldn't have returned a year later. Cedric wouldn't be dead. Sirius... He wrenched his thoughts away, and back to the present.

Lupin was speaking again. '...we need more information.'

'I agree,' said Dumbledore. 'Hestia, I wonder if you would be able to find out more from your shopkeeper friend? I suggest that you speak to Severus first. You may find his assistance useful.'

'Right away.' Hestia jumped up and Harry heard her boots stamping down the stone stairs as she hurried away. He looked at Dumbledore and Lupin and surprised an exchange of glances between them. Lupin's expression was hard; Dumbledore's calm and unblinking.

There's something going on here, he thought. Something else I'm not being told. He stood up. 'I'm going to see Hagrid.'

'Remus will accompany you.' It wasn't a question.

'Fine.' Harry shrugged and started for the stairs.

--

'What are you going to say to Hagrid?' Lupin asked as they walked together across the lawn. It was another glorious day. Bees moved contentedly from one flower to the next, oblivious to the lateness of the season, and the mown grass was dry under Harry's feet.

'Everything.' He didn't look at Lupin.

'And how do you think he will react to that?'

Harry shrugged. 'No idea. But he's got a right to know.'

'Of course he has,' Lupin said peaceably. Harry glanced sidelong at him. A slight frown knitted Lupin's forehead, giving the lie to his calm words and tone.

'You don't agree.'

'Not entirely. No. I wouldn't tell him about the photograph, for example. Not yet.' Lupin halted.

Harry kept walking. 'Why not?'

'Do you really want Hagrid to know about that, Harry? He's no fool. He'll understand the implications right away. That Caradoc might not have died when everyone thought. That he was kept alive by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You know what that means. Do you want Hagrid to be thinking about that?

'Or,' Lupin added softly, 'wondering if Caradoc was a traitor.'

Harry stopped dead.

'You didn't think of that.'

Harry shook his head, appalled. 'No.' It had never occurred to him. He could have kicked himself. It should have done, he told himself angrily.

'Believe me, I wouldn't have done at your age, either.' Lupin came up beside him and slung an arm loosely around Harry's shoulder. 'It's not a mistake you make twice.'

'Dumbledore never said - '

'I know. But he's thought of it. It has to be a possibility.'

Harry stared down at his shoes. 'I hate this,' he muttered. 'All this lying. I hate it.'

'We all do.' Lupin's voice was hard. Harry jerked his head up, looking at him in surprise. 'If there was any other way, Harry, then believe me, we'd take it. And you're right. Hagrid does have the right to know everything. I just don't think now is the right time.'

Harry shook his head miserably and said nothing. Lupin's arm tightened around his shoulder. 'Come on then. Back to the castle?'

'On one condition.'

'Which is?'

'We try and find out what's going on so I can talk to Hagrid.'

'Harry - '

'He's really upset. He needs to know. You would want to know.' He felt Lupin flinch.

Lupin nodded reluctantly. 'All right. I need to go and talk to Dumbledore about this. I'll see you again tomorrow.'

--

'Where are we going?'

Lupin didn't break stride as he answered, forcing Harry to run to keep up with him as they climbed the stone staircase. 'We're going to talk to Geraint Dearborn.'

'Who?'

'Caradoc's brother.' Lupin's face was grim.

'Why?'

Lupin slowed his pace a fraction, giving Harry a chance to catch his breath. 'Hestia and Professor Snape talked to the owner of the charity shop this morning. He didn't remember anything about the wand being brought in, or the other things, so they, ah, probed a little more deeply. It looks as if the person who brought in Caradoc's possessions was Caradoc himself.'

'Is that possible?'

A brief smile. 'Not if Caradoc's dead, no. But Geraint looks very like him. Caradoc was only three years younger than Geraint.'

They were standing outside the door to Lupin's room now. Harry said suddenly, 'Snape used Legilimency on the shopkeeper, didn't he?'

'Professor Snape,' Lupin corrected. He flashed a glance at Harry. 'Does that bother you?'

'No.' Harry thought about it. 'Yes,' he corrected. 'A bit.'

'Good.'

Lupin unlocked the door and pushed it open, locking it again as soon as they were both inside. Harry looked around him with interest.

Unlike the quarters Lupin had occupied as a teacher at Hogwarts, this room was small and sparsely furnished. The battered old suitcase lay on top of the wardrobe next to the empty Grindylow tank. On a desk facing the window was an old leather telescope, pointing out across the grounds; an astronomical chart was neatly folded beside it. Lupin's briefcase stood next to the desk. A book and a candle rested on the bedside table. Only the coverlet on the bed, a sumptuous affair of red and gold, provided any splash of colour. It was a drab room, thought Harry, looking around, a room where nobody lived.

Lupin crossed to the fireplace and lit the fire, then turned to look back at Harry, a serious expression on his face.

'Right, Harry. I need you to listen to me.' His eyes met Harry's and held them. Harry stared back. He had a good idea what was coming.

'I had a long talk with Professor Dumbledore after you went to bed last night. He feels - and I agree with him - that someone is playing a very elaborate game with us. Hestia was meant to find those things. And that means we were meant to become involved.'

Harry said nothing. He had worked this much out for himself.

Lupin continued. 'What we don't understand is how this involves you. I don't think this can have anything to do with Voldemort. This isn't his style.' He paused. 'Don't get me wrong, Harry. There is real danger here. You're not going to like what I have to say one bit.'

'Go on.'

'The only reason - and I mean it, Harry, the only reason - I'm allowing you to come with me is that at least this way I know where you are and what you're doing. I'd rather have you safe beside me than be worrying about what you're getting up to behind my back. So if there's any trouble, any hint of danger, we get back here immediately. No heroics. Is that clear?'

'Quite clear.' Harry's voice was tight. 'No heroics.'

'Good. Two more things.' Lupin crossed the room again and bent down to open the drawer of the bedside table. 'I want you to carry this on you at all times. Put it under your pillow when you sleep.' He handed Harry a small, flat object wrapped in cloth. Harry unwrapped it, although he already knew what it was. His reflection stared back at him without expression from the mirror.

'It was your father's,' Lupin said quietly. 'He and Sirius made a pair of them in second year. They used them to communicate with each other when they were in detention. Later on they made another pair for Peter and me. If you need me, just say my name.'

Harry nodded. He didn't tell Lupin that he had already seen a mirror just like this; that he had thrown it across the room and smashed it at the end of his fifth year because it wouldn't let him talk to Sirius beyond the veil. He felt suddenly very young and very ashamed.

'And I want you to wear this.' Lupin removed a ring from his left hand and passed it to Harry. Harry turned it over in his hand, examining it. It was a dull silver colour, heavy for its size. A star and a crescent moon were engraved on the inner surface.

'Sirius had it made for me, after we left school. He said it would be useful if I were ever in danger. He would have wanted you to have it.' There was no emotion in Lupin's voice.

Harry looked up at him. 'What does it do?'

'I never found out.' Lupin turned away, a fraction too quickly, and reached for the pot of Floo powder sitting on the mantelpiece. When he turned back he was smiling. 'Ready?'

'Ready.'

Lupin tossed a handful of powder into the fire. 'Myfanwy Dodd's,' he murmured as the flames turned green.

--

Harry didn't think he would ever get used to travelling by Floo. He stumbled out of the fire, brushing the soot from his clothes with an unsteady hand. Lupin grabbed him and pulled him clear of the flames.

'Where are - '

'Sssssssh!'

Harry looked around to see who was speaking. An elderly witch in a flat-topped black hat pointed at a large sign hanging from the ceiling. The sign depicted a wizard who was frowning at Harry and shaking his head, finger on his lips.

'Mold Public Library,' Lupin mouthed. He nodded amiably at the witch as they walked past and she tipped her hat to him and grinned, then returned to her newspaper. Harry sneaked a look at it as they passed. She was doing the Times crossword.

Lupin led him down a flight of stairs, almost tripping over an open pot of paint at the bottom, then pushed through a closed door which led out into the main library. As they headed past the front desk and towards the exit, Harry looked back in the direction of the door through which they had entered. A large sign was tacked to it: English History. Closed for Renovation.

'How long has that sign been there?' he whispered.

'Oh, at least twenty years.'

'Don't the Muggles notice?'

Lupin shook his head. 'Municipal buildings are always closed for renovations somewhere. They're used to it. We're going to have to walk the rest of the way, but it's not far. Stay close.'

--

A pleasant stroll of about a mile took them away from the town centre and into the Welsh countryside. Harry looked around him as they walked, appreciating the fresh air and the change of scenery. It was nice to be somewhere that wasn't Hogwarts.

They halted outside a pair of wide chicken-wired gates. A large red and white sign on the left gate read Mold Garden Centre. Quality Plants and Garden Furniture. Harry followed Lupin inside, puzzled. He was no stranger to garden centres, having spent many Bank Holidays loading shrubs and patio chairs into the back of Uncle Vernon's car while Dudley smirked at him from the cafeteria. He couldn't imagine what Geraint Dearborn would be doing in one.

Lupin ambled past the sales desk and the rows of potted plants, and out towards the back of the garden centre where the greenhouses stood. Harry followed him, shooting a vicious glance at an enormous conifer in a heavy earthenware pot. He had spent one summer carrying a very similar plant from one end of the garden to the other while Aunt Petunia pondered where best to plant it. His back still ached at the sight of it.

Lupin wandered over to the nearest greenhouse and stuck his head round the door. Harry followed suit. It was full of Muggle families examining pots of flowering shrubs and hedge plants. A plump woman in a grey wool suit was staggering towards him, arms full of something yellow and covered in thorns. She reminded him irresistibly of Aunt Marge and he shuddered as he followed Lupin over to the second greenhouse.

Beside him, Lupin snapped his fingers in satisfaction. 'There he is!' Harry followed him in, and they squeezed past groups of Muggles inspecting winter-flowering bulbs until they were at the far end of the greenhouse. A man squatted with his back to them, looking down at a row of seedlings in pots. As they watched, he reached into the bag of compost on the ground beside him, and shoved a handful into one of the pots, firming it up with surprising gentleness. He ran an investigative finger around the tiny plant and nodded to himself, then placed the pot on a low wooden shelf and dug another handful of compost from the bag.

'Right,' murmured Lupin as they walked towards Geraint Dearborn. 'Let me do the talking. Don't speak to Geraint unless he speaks to you first. Be careful what you say. He doesn't have much time for wizards.'

'Doesn't have much time for wizards?' Harry repeated in confusion.

'I forgot to mention it. Sorry. He's a Squib.'

As they approached, Geraint Dearborn patted down the soil on the last seedling and stood up, wiping grimy hands on the legs of his jeans.

'Geraint,' Lupin greeted.

Geraint Dearborn swung round, his eyes narrowing as he took in Lupin and Harry. Harry stared. He was taller than his brother had been, and his brown face was older and more lined, but the resemblance was astonishing. He ran a dirty hand through his wiry curls and Harry noticed that his hair was tinged with grey, although Geraint could not have been much older than Lupin. The main difference was one of temperament, Harry thought. It would be difficult to imagine Geraint Dearborn laughing.

'Mr. Dearborn it is, to you.' The voice was cold.

'Geraint,' Lupin repeated calmly.

Geraint Dearborn scowled. 'Lupin,' he said finally. 'And what brings you here? Sixteen years it has been.'

'I need to talk to you. About Caradoc.'

Dearborn scowled again. 'About Caradoc? My brother is dead. Too bad he did not listen to me sixteen years ago. He was a good man, my brother, a brave man, and now he is dead. Can you bring him back to life? No. Then do not come here wasting my time with talk.' He started forward, but Lupin blocked his way.

'I'm sorry, Geraint. Some of Caradoc's things have turned up.'

'What things?' Both men were very still, Geraint's tension almost palpable, while Harry thought he had never seen Lupin so calm.

'His ring. His wand.'

Behind him, Harry heard a crash as one of the Muggles knocked a plant to the ground. He kept his eyes fixed on Geraint Dearborn, not daring to look away.

All the colour seemed to drain out of Geraint's face as he stared at Lupin. 'His ring? Let me see it.' Wordlessly, Lupin handed him the ring with the dragon engraving. Geraint turned it over and over in his hands, staring at it with a faraway expression on his face as if he were not so much staring at the ring but through it into the past. When he looked up again, his expression had softened.

'This is my brother's ring, right enough. How was it found?' His eyes were fixed on Lupin's face as he listened to the explanation, but he said nothing. When Lupin stopped speaking he looked down at the ring again. 'Thank you for your honesty. May I keep this?'

'Of course. We have his wand - '

'Keep it. What need have I of a wand?' His voice was harsh.

'Will you contact us if you can tell us anything?' Lupin asked.

Geraint Dearborn nodded. 'I will. Unlikely, though, that there would be anything I could tell you.'

'Even so.' Lupin extended his hand. After a pause, Geraint took it. He nodded a farewell, including Harry in the gesture, then turned his back on them both.

'Where now?' Harry asked as they left the garden centre and headed back down the road towards Mold.

'First I want to call in on Bridget Meadowes. Then a snack and a drink before we go back. It's a hot day.'

'Bridget Meadowes?' The name sounded familiar.

'Dorcas Meadowes' sister. She was engaged to Caradoc Dearborn.'