To Face the Wolf

Finale.

Sybill Trelawney

'A prophecy?' she asked, blinking. 'I'm sure there is some misunderstanding, Professor. I did offer to divine his future, but the suggestion frightened him so much... he bolted right away! Just like Remus, come to think of it. Some poor souls will never have the courage to face reality. Neither of them will be with us for much longer, I'm afraid.'

Dumbledore twinkled merrily at her - if only he had been fifty years younger... 'So you never got around to making any predictions?' he asked. 'Nothing about a wolf or a dog?'

How did he know...? Ah yes. He was a Legilimens; she had to tread carefully here. 'But Professor Dumbledore,' she cried, with the merest hint of a reproach. 'The dog I Saw - it was the Grim! The omen of death! That's why I knew... surely you don't think I make up my own prophecies?'

'I am suggesting nothing of the kind, Sybill,' Dumbledore replied calmly. 'As a matter of fact, I know that you don't make up your prophecies.'

Sybill frowned; had he stressed the last word? Unlikely. When Dumbledore fell silent she waited for a while, until she realised he was lost in thought. She cleared her throat. The sooner she could leave the Headmaster's office, the better. Some of the portraits were staring down at her, making her feel ill at ease. Fortunately, Fawkes paid no attention to her.

'What is it?' Dumbledore said abruptly. 'Ah yes, thank you, Sybill - that was all I needed to know. Another peppermint humbug before you leave?'

Daintily she took a piece of candy between her thumb and index finger, and popping it into her mouth she rose. When she walked to the door, she saw the portrait of Phineas Nigellus following her, positively smirking. She had no idea what could be so funny.

Outside Dumbledore's office, she found that untalented third year Gryffindor, Hermione Granger, hovering in front of the gargoyle. 'Try Acid Pops, my dear child,' she told her. 'And incidentally, you'll need courage to carry out the thing you have in mind.'

Hermione cast her a disturbed glance, and Sybill smiled.

Hermione Granger

Resolving to make her face look less like an open book the next time she encountered Trelawney, Hermione let the spiral stairs carry her up. When she closed the door of the Headmaster's office, the phoenix on his golden perch pulled its head from between its feathers and blinked at her with a benevolent black eye. She had no idea where Dumbledore could be until she heard a voice from the fireplace, saying: 'I'll see you presently, then.'

Straightening, he said: 'Good afternoon, Miss Granger,' before he turned to face her.

'Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore,' she replied, not too surprised he knew who entered his room before he saw who it was.

'Please, sit down, Miss Granger.' He indicated a box on his desk. 'Sugar quill?'

She shook her head. 'No, thank you, Professor.'

'So, what brings you here?'

'I came because of Finrod Felagund,' she began hesitantly. 'It's about his removal - banishing him back into The Silmarillion, I mean,' she added with a squeak. She began to regret having come at all.

'I see,' he said, eyeing her with a kind of placid curiosity, waiting for her to say more.

Hermione cleared her throat. What had seemed a workable idea in her dormitory would probably sound foolish in the Headmaster's office, and she was keenly aware of the eyes of so many of his predecessors boring into the back of her head. Why had she come here at all? Maybe she should retrace her steps. It wasn't as if she really wanted to say all this - she merely felt obliged to.

'I read the story of Ophelia Watershed,' she blurted. 'Last Friday, in the library. How her guardian banned the character back to the play. But the kind of magic he used - not that the book was very clear about it, but it said there were risks... It could have dire results for everyone and everything involved. Actually, I had the impression - the book suggested the play is as dark as it is and most characters are killed, precisely because of what Ophelia's guardian did to the main role.'

'Miss Granger,' the Headmaster said in a mild voice, 'are you attempting to tell me I should know better than to use Dark Magic on Finrod Felagund?

Hermione was aware of her fingers leading a tortuous life of their own in her lap. 'I don't want to presume, but... Headmaster - what if The Silmarillion is changed for the worse when you use the guardian's spell to send Finrod back? What if it becomes dark altogether, without a shred of hope remaining? What message will people find there, and won't this be contrary to the author's beliefs and intentions? Maybe Finrod will turn to the dark, too, and he's one of the best characters in the book, sacrificing himself for a friend...'

She really ought to come to the point now, but why was it so terribly difficult? She was supposed to be courageous!

Dumbledore stroked his long beard. 'I see your problem. But I have something of a problem, too. That problem is of flesh and blood and located here, not in the universe of a book, however noble and uplifting this book may be. It is my responsibility to solve what is real to me - and this would still be the case if we - you and I, and Harry and Ron, and Professor Snape, Professor Lupin and Sirius Black were all invented characters living only in the minds of others.'

'It's about Professor Lupin, isn't it?' Hermione whispered. 'You're trying to protect him.'

The Headmaster nodded.

Severus Snape

Again, Snape found himself striding through the Hogwarts corridors to Dumbledore's office. He could have taken a short cut and flooed, but as he wanted to go over his answer once more in his mind, walking was preferable.

By Banishing Felagund the Headmaster wanted to protect Lupin, so much was clear. Taking care of his own. In itself this was the proper thing to do. Twelve years ago, for instance, Dumbledore had coerced Lily's horrible sister and her worthless husband to take the Potter brat into their sorry excuse of a household and raise him. He'd had no other choice back then, what with Trelawney's ambiguous prophecy, and the blood protection created by a mother's sacrifice. All his broad-mindedness notwithstanding, even Albus Dumbledore, a stranger to pureblood mania who treated house-elves and werewolves and the likes of them as the equals of humans, would not hesitate to frighten Muggles into compliance or Obliviate them, or whatever treatment they required, for the benefit of the Wizarding World. He was right, of course; ultimately the Muggles, too, would benefit from this, even if they had no inkling of what was actually going on and no say or influence whatsoever. Such was the Wizard's Burden.

Reaching the Entrance Hall and taking a left turn to ascend the great stairs to the first floor, Snape nodded at some fourth year Slytherins who were loitering near the front doors. When the group acknowledged his greeting he noticed that a few faces bore furtive looks; it was easy to see they were up to no good. But they weren't actually committing any mischief and he was of the opinion that Slytherins deserved as many blind eyes as Gryffindors always got.

Climbing the stairs, Snape continued his musings. If he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit - however grudgingly - that Dumbledore had a point if he considered a werewolf in his service more important than the interloper Felagund. Except that this particular werewolf was Lupin, friend and accomplice of the dangerous, devious, murderous Black - after last night, the mere thought of the scum made Snape feel sick (and definitely not with fatigue).

Of all werewolves, Lupin was precisely the one who didn't deserve Dumbledore's protection. The irony was, that Snape had come to believe Felagund was telling the truth. As he had pointed out, the images of the dark pit and its horrors were too vivid to be fake, whether the memory was real, or born the instant he was summoned from this third-rate Muggle novel. And in that case, Lupin wasn't the werewolf who had bitten Felagund.

But none of this mattered, as long as he would transform and Snape could blame Lupin. After last night, getting Black's crony out of the way was imperative. Very few goals had ever justified the means better than this one.

Talk about the devil - there he was, Lupin, strolling past Moaning Myrtle's bathroom as if he was enjoying a walk beneath the waning moon.

'Lupin!' Snape snarled.

The other halted. 'Ah. Severus. On your way to the Headmaster, bringing the potion he requested from you?' he asked cheerfully

Of course. Despite all their cosy togetherness in Lupin's private quarters, the damned werewolf would want Felagund out of the way before the next full moon. 'Going to have your latest friend Banned to a book with the help of a dubious spell, just to be on the safe side?' the Potions master retorted.

Lupin smiled. 'You'll be surprised.'

But on entering Dumbledore's office Snape was more than surprised. He knew Lupin was behind him, yet out of the fireplace popped - Lupin, dusting off the most tattered set of robes Snape had ever seen him in. His surprise lasted only a moment; though, then he understood.

Remus Lupin

'Take it easy, Severus,' said Remus, only just managing to keep a straight face. 'I'm no Boggart.'

'Very funny, Lupin,' the Potions master said sourly, and suddenly Remus wondered if he wasn't, actually, Snape's Boggart, or had been so in the past - be it in a different shape.

'We doubted Finrod could travel by floo,' he said, eager to dismiss the previous thought from his mind. 'So he had to use the corridors in an inconspicuous way.'

Ignoring him Snape turned to Finrod. 'So, who will you impersonate next?' The Headmaster? his tone suggested. 'Dribbly the house-elf? That shouldn't be too difficult, seeing what you are.'

'Oh, he performed the house-elf act on me,' Remus said casually. 'But he got the sock.' Hermione looked up with a startled expression on her face. Fawkes made a soft, melodious noise.

'A beautiful bird,' remarked the Remus who-was-Finrod. The phoenix studied him for a while and inclined his head.

Scowling, Snape turned to Dumbledore. 'Headmaster. I see you're having visitors, so I'll keep it short. I regret to tell you that I can't brew the concoction you need on short term. I'm afraid I've got no darnel grains in stock at the moment, and as I'm sure you know the darnel must be picked while the moon is full, or the hallucinogens will damage both the mental and physical health of anyone who ingests the mixture.'

The full moon! Remus guessed Snape was referring to the potion one had to drink before casting an Exorcilio (he hoped the Headmaster wouldn't dream of using the Confinitus), and thought he had come up with a clever way to make life hell for the resident werewolf. I bet he's got enough darnel to drive the entire Hogwarts staff insane, and many the students as well. This was merely Snape's way of being non-co-operative without seeming rebellious. Fortunately, it didn't matter.

'I do not think we need any concoctions,' said Finrod, who had turned into himself during Snape's speech to Dumbledore, though he was still wearing Remus best set of rags. 'The time has come to discuss our plan, Remus. Did you bring the device?'

'I did.' Remus pulled out the Time-turner - which he had ascertained was not jinxed in any way - and held it up for everyone to see.

Snape, his hand already on the door handle, turned sharply about. 'You have a Time-turner?'

'It's not mine. Minerva asked me to check it on curses and hexes,' Remus replied. 'I'm very happy to declare it is perfectly safe.'

Hermione was not happy, though: her hand flew to her mouth. So she was the student Minerva had mentioned. Suddenly, several things fell into place. Unfortunately for her, he was going to propose something that would rob her of it. He felt a little sorry for her, but not too much. She had obviously used it to overtax herself.

'Well, well, well,' said Dumbledore. 'What a coincidence. Just before you entered my office, Miss Granger asked me if I had a Time-turner to spare. She thought Mr. Felagund could use it to return to the moment before he materialised at Hogwarts. Which would take him back to where he came from - whether a book, or his own world. And now you bring one...'

'But -' Hermione began, and faltered.

Snape was gazing darkly at the device in Remus's hand. 'It's highly dangerous to mess with time! And this thing was entrusted to a student?'

'I am aware of the problems involved, Severus.' Almost absent-mindedly Dumbledore rummaged through the sweets box on his desk, dug up a sherbet lemon and fixed it like the predator fixes his prey. 'Essentially, what a Time-turner does, is enabling one to bring about what is known to have happened, and enabling one to bring about what must happen but cannot otherwise come to pass.'

He smiled blithely, unaware of the fact that he had lost most of his audience. Snape was not the only one to frown. Even Hermione seemed to need time to process this information.

It was Finrod who spoke first. 'Then if my understanding is correct, by travelling back in time one cannot change the past, but only the future - and as one cannot change what has not yet come to pass, there is no change. Provided there is such a thing as the future, when time is traversible like space.'

Snape took a step forward. 'It's a known fact that time-travelling wizards and witches have killed their past selves by mistake,' he said threateningly

'But how can that be?' Finrod asked, unperturbed. 'Once you kill your past self, you will have no future self to go back in time and kill your past self. Perhaps your fact is no more than a rumour.'

Dumbledore was smiling. Remus's brain was making overtime. 'But if I travel back, and I can't change anything in the past, this eliminates my free choice,' he objected. He saw Snape nod and then grimace, as if the Potions master realised abruptly it wouldn't do to agree with an old enemy, who was a werewolf to boot.

'Only in the past,' Finrod said, his eyes sparkling; he was clearly enjoying himself. 'The world of the past is determined; the song is sung, the words are spoken, the deeds done, and that is called fate. Whatever you achieve in the past is already part of what has resulted in your present. Not to mention that freedom is a little overrated, sometimes. Few people can turn a ray of sunlight into a hailstone.'

'A powerful wizard can. Unless he's dead, like we are,' grumbled one of the portraits on the wall.

'Shut up, Phineas,' said a female voice. 'We're neither dead nor alive. We're paint.'

Snape muttered something incomprehensible, searching Dumbledore's face. The Headmaster did not seem about to make any corrections. Remus wasn't sure he concurred with what he believed Finrod had said.

After casting a brief glance at the portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses, Finrod proceeded to study the people of flesh and blood. Finally, he gave an elegant shrug. 'Perhaps this is merely how my kind perceives existence; the Powers at whose feet I sat when I was younger taught me that mortals possess a freedom the Eldar do not have.'

Hermione opened her mouth, only to close it without having said a word. Finrod took her copy of the Silmarillion out of his - or rather - Remus's threadbare robes and put it on the desk in front of her. 'But whatever is the case, my path is clear. This book tells the history of my kindred, and our meeting and meddling with other races. It is a finished tale, I am told, and though my active part in it ends with my death, I do not simply vanish from it while dying of my injuries.'

'You get a proper burial,' Hermione whispered. 'And you'll walk w-'

'That is good to know,' Finrod said calmly, cutting her off as if he did not want or need to hear more. 'But what this tells me is that I went back to the reality of this book. My death and burial have come to pass; the Silmarillion recounts them. That means I shall return there, or else these things could not have taken place the way they are preserved here. Is it so unthinkable that I used a Time-turner to travel back to the very instant when I was whisked away? In this manner, what is known to have happened, will come to pass.'

'Provided all this is true, and you're neither delusional nor making false assumptions concerning your own existence - you'd die,' Snape said harshly. 'You were almost dead when I found you in that dungeon. I brewed the antidote that saved your life and madam Pomfrey nursed you back to health. Would you throw away our efforts on your behalf?'

His eyes were glittering angrily, and Remus didn't doubt he took Finrod's willingness to die as a personal insult.

'He cannot stay, Severus,' Dumbledore put in. He held out a hand, and Remus gave him the Time-turner.

'No, I cannot stay,' Finrod confirmed.

Snape looked disgusted. Hermione swallowed audibly.

(To Be Concluded)