A Surfeit of Wands

Chapter Eight: Night Games

'Harry! Harry, wake up.'

Go away. Harry turned over, ignoring the hand on his shoulder and the voice hissing in his ear. Can't be time to get up already. I've only just got into bed. And what's Uncle Vernon dong in my bedroom anyway? The hand shook harder, jerking him awake.

'Harry, wake up.' Harry opened his eyes reluctantly. The dormitory was in darkness. A hand moved in front of his eyes and Harry sat up, blinking in the sudden light. Lupin stood by the bed holding a lit candle, tension etched into every line of his face.

'What is it? What's wrong?' Instantly alert, Harry rolled over and tumbled out of bed and onto his feet.

Lupin's expression was grim. 'Hogwarts is under attack. We need to get you out of here.'

'Give me a minute.' Harry reached for his clothes, but Lupin's hand closed over his, pulling him back.

'There's no time, Harry. Quickly, if you want to stay alive.'

Harry nodded. Grabbing his robes and stuffing them under one arm, he bent and reached under the bed to retrieve his satchel.

'What's that?'

Harry explained. For an instant Lupin looked nonplussed, the he grinned. 'Good thinking. Right then, let's get out of here!' He turned towards the door and moved stiffly across the room, dragging his right leg as he walked.

'You're hurt!'

Lupin frowned. 'It's nothing. I ran into two Death Eaters on the way up. Now are you coming, or do you want to stay and wait for more?'

Harry didn't wait for a second invitation. Slinging his satchel over his shoulder, he hurried out of the dormitory after Lupin. Shadows from Lupin's candle sprang out at them from dark corners, or danced on the walls, and more than once Harry jumped and reached for his wand to fight an enemy that was not there. He listened for sounds of battle as they hastened along the corridor, but the only sound was the slap of his bare feet on stone, and the dragging of Lupin's leg. Looks like we got out just in time, he thought. He wondered what he would have done if he had woken up to find a Death Eater standing beside his bed, and shuddered. Probably fainted. He brushed his fingers over the tip of his wand and moved a little closer to Lupin, shivering at the unexpected cold. Bare feet and thin summer pyjamas were fine when tucked up in bed, he reflected ruefully, but less good for stone floors and draughty corridors.

At the door of the common room they halted, and Lupin leaned in towards the door to listen. Gesturing to Harry to stay put, he opened the door and slipped in, wand at the ready. Harry watched him limp to the far door and listen again, before beckoning Harry forward and into the room. Lupin fumbled in the pockets of his robes and produced a small stone jar, which he set down on the mantelpiece, and a scrap of folded and yellowed parchment, which he passed to Harry.

'Read it. That's where we're going.' Harry unfolded the parchment, and read the faded, tiny writing, then folded it carefully again along the deep creases and stowed it in the breast pocket of his pyjama pocket lest it fall apart in his hands. Beside him, Lupin had conjured a fire and was tossing a handful of powder into the flames.

'You first.' Lupin indicated the fire. Harry nodded and stepped into the flames. Seconds later he emerged, sooty and choking, into an unfamiliar room. He rolled to one side to make way for Lupin, and promptly banged his forehead on something hard. He was rubbing his head angrily when he heard a clatter and a thump behind him, and when he looked round, Lupin was crouched on the floor in front of the fire. Harry jumped to his feet and helped the other man up, then looked around him. It was a kitchen, small and functional and neatly kept, but permeated by the odour of disuse. He wondered how long it was since people had last cooked and eaten there.

'Where are we?'

'A safe house for members of the Order. Very few people know about it. It hasn't been used in years.' Lupin grimaced. 'About sixteen years.'

'What do we do now?'

'We wait. But not here - just in case.' Lupin smiled. 'As it happens, I know this part of the country well.' He limped towards the door, grunting as his injured leg took his weight.

'You should do something about that leg.'

Lupin shook his head. 'When you're out of danger. Not far now.'

'Where are we?' Harry repeated, pulling on his robes and slippers. 'I mean, as in geography.'

'Didn't I tell you? We're back in Mold.'

--

Once out of the cottage, they picked their way with difficulty down a muddy lane and across a farmyard, then cut through a field. As the ground before them began to slope uphill, Harry realised with a start that they were heading towards the stone circle. He pointed up the hill and shrugged a question at Lupin, who nodded in response.

'Oh yes. It began here and it ends here.' It was an odd thing to say, and Harry gave him a curious glance, wondering if he had taken a blow to the head while fighting the Death Eaters back at Hogwarts. He said nothing, however, merely followed Lupin as they climbed towards the summit of the hill and the circle of standing stones.

About two-thirds of the way up, Lupin made a sharp turn to the right, and began to hurry towards a rocky outcrop. When Harry caught up with him, he was standing in front of the rock face, running his hands over it and muttering under his breath. The rock disappeared, revealing a narrow cave, clean and dry, with a pile of dried grass in one corner which had obviously served someone well as a bed. The rear of the cave was in darkness.

Harry gaped. Lupin turned to him and smiled. 'It's nothing unusual, Harry. Wales is riddled with caves like this, where the little people lived. Step inside one and when you step out again, a thousand years have passed.' He smiled again, as if enjoying a private joke. 'Didn't you learn anything in History of Magic?'

Harry was stung. 'Nobody learns anything in History of Magic!' he retorted. Lupin grinned.

'That's true, anyway. I never did.'

As they entered the cave, Lupin murmured 'Lumos' and a weak light sprang from his wand, barely enough to guide their feet as they walked forwards. Harry paused and turned round to look at the entrance; as he watched, the rock face swung back into place, settling with a dull crunch. He regarded it morosely, wondering what would happen if Lupin forgot how to open it, or if something went wrong. It didn't seem likely that anyone would be able to find them.

At the back, the cave opened up into a passage. Stooping and wriggling past the spars of rock which jutted out awkwardly from time to time, and crunching the friable stone under their feet, they made their way along it in single file, heading deeper and deeper into the hill. Eventually the passage widened out, leading them into a large chamber where the air was fresh and sweet.

Harry looked around slowly, taking in the smooth walls of the huge cavern and the vaulted ceiling high above them. Somebody made this. Somebody carved it out of the rock. He felt intuitively that magic had not been used in the making of this place; that its creation had been the result of many thousands of hours of physical toil. He walked towards the far end of the chamber, halting in front of an enormous stone table that looked as if it might have been used as an altar. He remembered Macnair and the razor, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Behind him, Lupin murmured 'Finite Incantatem'. At once the light from his wand flickered and died and a soft glow filled the chamber all around them, as if the rocks themselves were fluorescing. Harry tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling, catching his breath at the sight of crystals embedded in the rock and twinkling like miniature stars.

'That's fantastic!' He turned to Lupin, shaking his head in astonishment. 'What makes it do all this?' He waved a hand at his surroundings.

Lupin shrugged. 'There are different theories. Some historians think that the rocks here absorb magic and re-radiate it at a much lower level; others prefer to believe that caverns like these have their own magic. What we call magic doesn't work well here at all. Look at how faint the light from my wand was.' He dug a candle stump from his pocket and set it on the ground. 'We'll need this, too. The rocks are pretty, but not that useful to see by.'

Harry nodded his understanding. 'What about that?' He indicated the stone table.

'What it looks like, I should imagine. An altar. It's possible that the people who made this place used it to make offerings to their gods. That great big lump of rock is directly below the flat slab at the heart of the stone circle.' A smile broke across Lupin's face. 'That is, assuming they had any gods, or made offerings to them. They don't seem to have valued writing or drawing as a way of handing down information, so there's very little to go on. We'll probably never know the real answer.'

'Don't let Hermione hear you say that,' Harry teased.

'Hermione? Oh yes.' Something like uncertainty flickered across Lupin's face and was gone. A horrid feeling began to gnaw at Harry. On impulse he reached out and grabbed the right sleeve of Lupin's robe, yanking it back to expose the skin.

It was unmarked.

Harry started back, fear and anger warring within him. 'You're not - '

'Lupin? No, you silly child, of course I'm not.' The Jellylegs Jinx caught Harry before he could dive out of the way. Mild though it was, even its reduced effect was enough to make him lose his balance and he tumbled backwards, his wand flying out of his hand. As he struggled to regain control of his legs, 'Lupin' crawled over to him, a rock in his hand. Harry reached desperately for his wand. He felt a sharp, sudden pain, and orange light flared within his head, fading slowly to black. He fell forward and was still.

--

He regained consciousness slowly and painfully. Flexing his limbs experimentally, and wishing that his head would stop throbbing every time he moved, he discovered that his hands were tied in front of him and his legs were also bound.

'You're awake, then.'

No point pretending. Harry opened his eyes. 'Lupin' was sitting opposite him, watching him closely.

'So. You'll be Lily's boy.' Harry nodded. 'And your Ma and Da were killed by Voldemort.'

'For standing up to him,' Harry corrected, more loudly than he had intended. His voice echoed around the cavern, and the pain in his head redoubled. He wondered if he was going to be sick.

'Lupin' nodded. There was fierce approval in the brown eyes. It was odd, thought Harry, how a familiar face could suddenly become unfamiliar when a different mind directed its expressions. For there was no doubt now that whoever was behind those eyes, it was not Professor Lupin. With a shock he realised that, to have fooled him for this length of time, it must be someone who knew Lupin very well indeed. Someone close to Professor Lupin? He racked his brains. It was unlikely to be someone from Hogwarts, or there would have been no need to entice him away from the security of the castle. Someone from the Order... a traitor perhaps?

'Good for them, lad, good for them,' said the fake Lupin. Harry watched him carefully for any nuances of speech, any characteristic gestures which would tell him something about whoever he was dealing with. 'Now then, tell me about yourself. Tell me everything.'

Harry frowned. 'Tell you what, exactly?'

'Everything, laddie. Pretend I'm a long-lost relative who's just come back from a journey. Pretend I've not seen you since you were - let's say since you were a baby.'

Puzzled, Harry complied. He described his mother's sacrifice and the false peace which followed Voldemort's first fall. He skimmed over the details of his life at the Dursleys but lingered on the arrival of the Hogwarts letters in their hundreds, followed by Hagrid on his flying motorbike. The stranger watched him with hungry eyes, interrupting every now and then with a question, hands clenched at his sides.

'Go on, lad. What happened when you got to Hogwarts?'

Harry talked. He told his captor about Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone, about Tom Riddle's diary and the Chamber of Secrets. When it came to his third year, he edited as he talked, stressing Sirius' innocence, but playing down his part in the rescue and omitting any mention of the Time-Turner entirely. As he spoke, he wondered how long it would take before the effects of the Polyjuice Potion wore off and he could see who had imprisoned him. But time passed and the potion did not wear off. He must have taken another dose while I was knocked out. Why? Why is he afraid of being recognised? He had no way of identifying his captor until the effects of the Polyjuice faded, but while he had been talking, an idea had stirred in his head. Perhaps there was a way to get help after all...

'You could at least let me rest my head on something,' he pointed out. He put as much petulance as he could muster into his next words. 'It hurts.'

'I didn't hit you that hard.'

'No,' Harry conceded. 'But Macnair did, a few days ago, and that still hurts sometimes, too.'

'Macnair?' His captor scowled. 'Is that bastard still around?'

Harry nodded, wincing as nausea shot through him.

'Here.' The satchel was dumped, none too gently, on the ground beside him. 'Rest your head on this.'

'Thanks.'

'Keep talking.'

He made himself comfortable, resting his head on the satchel. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe...Crossing the fingers of both hands and choosing his words carefully, he began to describe his fourth year.

'We had to have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, because Remus Lupin had been forced to leave - '

'Why?'

Harry grinned to himself. 'Why did Remus Lupin have to leave?' Lucky! 'Because Professor Snape told everyone that he was a werewolf. Hermione knew, she guessed. Funny really, when you think about the name - Remus Lupin - '

He saw a sudden flash of understanding in the dark eyes. 'Aye. I suppose it is. I never thought about it before.'

'You knew Professor Lupin?'

'Better than you ever will, lad. So you got a new teacher. Who was that?'

'Alastor Moody.' Again the flash of recognition. Was there anyone this man didn't know? If it is a man. Harry coughed suddenly. 'It's dusty in here,' he complained, breaking into a fit of coughing. Was that a faint scratching sound inside his satchel? He listened carefully. A voice, tinny and distant. 'Harry. Harry. Where are you?' Lupin's voice.

'How long are you going to keep me prisoner here, anyway?' Harry's voice was loud and sullen. The voice was silent immediately.

'As long as I need to. Tell me about Mad-Eye Moody.'

Harry carried on with his narrative, summarising his fourth year as fast as possible while thinking furiously. He ended with a breathless '... and then they tied me to the gravestone and got out a knife. I thought I was going to be sacrificed, like on that stone slab above us on the hill, but - '

Lupin's voice from his satchel, very quiet. 'Hold on, Harry. We're coming.'

'Carry on, lad.'

Harry twisted round to look at his captor. 'No. You know what? I think I'd like some answers for a change.' Get him talking. Keep him talking. Then pick up my story if I have to.

The fake Lupin grinned. 'Oh, you would, would you?' His eyes narrowed.

'Yes,' Harry said recklessly. 'For a start, why are you asking me all these questions? Don't you know the answers already?'

The other man tilted his head to look at Harry, lost for a moment in thought. 'No. No, I don't. I know very little about the last sixteen years, as it happens.' He grinned again, a feral twist of the mouth that was as devoid of humour as anything Harry had ever seen. 'I suppose you could say I fell into a fairy cave and never came out.'

'Who are you?'

'Are you sure you want to know?' Harry nodded. 'All right then.' As Harry watched, the features in front of him began to blur and shift. Silver streaks faded from the brown hair, which began, almost imperceptibly, to darken. The long, slender fingers contracted, becoming shorter and stubby, twisted and contorted like claws. The right leg... Harry tried very hard not to look at the right leg.

He kept his gaze fixed on the blue, blue eyes as Lupin's familiar scars melted from his face, and its lines and planes relaxed and became plastic, reforming more deeply in different places. Like watching a doll melt, he thought wildly. Finally it was over and Harry forced himself to look at the mutilated face and broken body of the man sitting opposite him.

His jaw dropped. He stared.

'You know who I am.'

Yes. No. It can't be - it's not possible. 'You're - you're dead,' he gasped, as the cavern swayed around him.