The Ravishing Thrall

Chapter One: Art Imitates Life

Even the houselights in the theater were far too bright to allow Hermione to focus properly on the paper in her hands. She fumbled irritably with her pen, partially due to that difficulty, but also because she was unused to working with muggle writing implements. Seated seven rows back from the stage, Hermione was all too conscious of the stifling press of people in front of and behind her, all giggling and shouting in anticipation of the start of the show.

It was exactly for that reason, of course, that Hermione had come to this particular theater tonight. She needed to be somewhere that she could find a great many muggles all enjoying a performance together. From in the midst of the audience, she wouldn't have any trouble making innocent and totally unnoticed observations, or taking as many notes as she felt she needed. The dark of the theater and the excitement of the performance would prevent too many people from taking a prolonged interest in Hermione's work.

What was more, everyone in the audience was waiting to see the Great Cambio, a muggle stage performer whose particular skill was hypnotizing members of his audience, and making them do things that later, they never remembered. To Hermione, to be in such a situation seemed horrifying, and she couldn't imagine voluntarily allowing someone to take away control of her mind. That, she recognized, was probably because she was well aware of the dangerous curses used by the Dark Lord and his followers, and knew how precious self-control could be in the face of magic interference.

These eager muggles, on the other hand, saw it as an exhilarating curiosity, a fascinating trick. Cambio himself, no doubt, used all sorts of little party tricks to convince his audience that he was, in fact, hypnotizing them. She'd read volumes upon volumes of work by wizards who had done extensive research into what it was that stage magicians did to seem magical, when they had no more wizarding talent any of their rapt observers. What Hermione cared less about the tricks used, than about the reactions produced in the audience. She needed to understand those reactions for her book, a dauntingly extensive treatise on wizard/muggle relations entitled Muggles and Magic - What is the Appeal? When she finished this book, she kept assuring herself, she'd have better luck than she'd had the last time. This time, it would sell so many copies that she'd find it on the Hogwarts reading list before a year was up.

"The Great Cambio - Saturday, January the 6^th," Hermione wrote with her clumsy pen, before slipping the parchment into her pocket and turning her eyes to the stage. Even as she did so, the houselights finally began to dim, and an ecstatic murmur arose from the surrounding rows of audience members. A few irate voices rose above the rest, shushing them peremptorily, until the audience quieted down, and an expectant silence settled over the theater.

Hermione leaned forward against the back of the seat in front of her, trying see over the head of the tall woman in the front row. A man was walking on to the stage, a tall, slim shadow against the backdrop of a multitude of lighting units and purple banners.

Hermioen was surprised by the flashes or musical trills that accompanied the man to the stage. In her experience, muggle magic shows were almost always characterized by some sort of vibrant display of pyrotechnics, supposedly displays of the power of the magician in question. The Great Cambio, however, for this was no doubt he, chose to cross the stage with nothing to accompany him but the sound of his own booted feet tapping against the wood paneling of the stage floor.

A spotlight blinked on above him, and the audience was able to see Cambio's face for the first time. The woman in the first row was still totally obscuring Hermione's view of the finer details, and, frustrated, Hermione curled her legs under her on the seat, so that she could gain an extra couple of inches. That added height wasn't quite enough, and, with a mutter of exasperation, Hermione slipped from her seat, and stepped out into the aisle. Although she hardly needed to see the man to judge what the reactions of the audience were, she wanted to at least know what he looked like, if only for her own amusement.

Cambio was speaking, now, in a low, gentle voice, one long-fingered hand held out in front of him as if inviting the audience to join him. "You've come here today," he was saying, "to lose your minds. After all, that's what it is, to let someone else take control of your actions. It's like losing your mind."

Finally, Hermione found a good place in the center of the aisle to stand, without obscuring anyone else's view. As soon as her line of sight was clear, her shock at what she saw temporarily prevented her from hearing what the magician was saying. She couldn't possibly be seeing what she thought she was seeing...could she?

The Great Cambio was not a powerful looking man. He was long and lean, with a gaunt face, obscured by falling locks of thin, tawny hair, which was shot through with the silver of age. His outstretched hands were bony, seemingly almost feeble, and though his purple and blue coat and trousers were ludicrously fine, he still gave off the appearance of shabby destitution. His face, from what Hermione could see of it, was lined and creased with age and worry, and his eyes were dull and grey, as he stared anywhere but into any individual face.

Even after three years of having heard no word of the man, Hermione could recognize him anywhere. He'd taught at Hogwarts when she'd been a third year student, and he'd earned the highest orders of Merlin in the course of the great war against the Death Eaters. Then he'd disappeared entirely from Hermione's world, and, subsequently, from her mind. Remus J. Lupin, however, was a distinctive man, too distinctive for Hermione to be mistaken, even in this totally unexpected setting.

"I'm going to need a volunteer," he was telling the rapt crowd. "Would anyone like to step up to the stage for me?" Lupin paused as the audience members talked excitedly amongst themselves. He stood patiently in the center of the stage, leaning slightly against a large post in the center that seemed to be holding up the ceiling, or at least was supposed to give that impression. After several moments, a short, wiry man with very curly blond hair made his way through the aisle, to stand in front of the stage, assisted by a woman, who was pushing at him insistently. Nodding, Lupin indicated that the small man should climb up and join him on the stage.
"I should ask you, sir," he started, still in that quiet, unobtrusive voice, "whether or not you have any dark secrets that you'd rather not have revealed in front of all of this people?"

The man looked around at all of the faces in the crowd, smiling nervously. "Everybody has secrets, right?"

"Of course they do," Lupin reassured him. "I only ask because you're about to give me permission to tell everyone else yours."

Laughing, the man shook his head. "No chance of that," he insisted, emphatically. "No matter what you do to me, I'm gonna keep my head. Gotta prove that this is just a trick, after all."

Lupin raised an eyebrow at him. "Sleep," he murmured, passing a hand over the man's head. "Sleep, now. Sleep..."

His voice caressed the surrounding silence as he repeated the word "sleep," over and over again. The man onstage with him looked confused at first, and then, abruptly, he closed his eyes and swayed dangerously backward on the stage. The crowd gasped. Before the man could fall, however, Hermione saw Lupin's lips move, murmuring an inaudible charm. At the same moment, a tiny flash, like infinitesimal lightning shot out of somewhere in the vicinity of Lupin's coat pocket.

The audience gave a series of collective gasps and cries of surprise. Carefully, Lupin laid the now completely unconscious man down on the stage floor, pillowing the man's head on one of Lupin's own hands. He bent close to the man's ear, and whispered something else. This time, Hermione thought she heard him murmur "mobilis," at the end of the spell. The man's body stood straight up, but his eyes were still closed, and it was apparent that he was out cold.

Hermione was horrified. She couldn't bee sure what exactly she was watching, but she did know that Remus Lupin was breaking just about every muggle/wizard relations law in the Ministry books. Not only was he using genuine magical powers to masquerade as a fraudulent muggle sideshow act, but he was manipulating other muggles, using magic tricks that, at least to Hermione, looked like the wrong and most dangerous kind. She wondered if she should say something, enter the fray and stop the show. But that, of course, was a stupid idea. If Hermione intervened, she'd only increase the problem, and make sure that all of the muggles knew that there was something strange, and potentially genuinely magical going on.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione kept watching, rapt despite herself as Lupin put one arm on the shoulder of the sleep-walking man. "You were just telling me," Lupin was murmuring, "that you weren't going to let me reveal all of your secrets, weren't you, sir?" The man, quite expectedly, made no response. "Well," the wizard continued, conversationally, "what would you say now, if I asked you tell me what it is that you were so keen to keep me from finding out?"

The man's hand shot up, and he pointed vaguely at someone in the audience. He opened his mouth, and, in a low, distracted drone began to speak. "I," he was saying "didn't-!"

"Stop!" commanded Lupin quickly, and the man's hand dropped again to his side as he shut his mouth obediently. "Well,"Lupin chuckled, "I suppose that answers that question. Don't worry, that's all the proof I need."

The show progressed in much that way for a full three-quarters of an hour. Hermione was so distracted by her amazement and chagrin at identifying Remus Lupin, that she was almost unable to make any helpful observations about the way that her neighbors in the audience were responding to Lupin's skillfully executed "tricks." He went on to make the man emit several uncannily accurate animal noises, and played some games with him that involved running in circles and doing acrobatics that a man of his stature didn't seem otherwise capable of.

At long last, Lupin grasped the man by both shoulders, and looked into his still tightly closed eyes. "Awake," he said, "You're done." Hermione saw the wand flash again, and, as Lupin released his volunteer, the man's eyes shot open, and he tumbled, with a startled squeak, on to his backside on the floor. He blinked up at Lupin

"Wow," said the man, clearly impressed. "Did I...did I say anything?"

Lupin smiled. "I'm sure your friends will let you know. You're free to go now."

As the man hopped down from the stage, and made his way into the audience, there was a short, lulling silence. The volunteer took his seat, and Lupin smiled benevolently into the crowd, as if to say "Well?"

Applause erupted from the theater, and Hermione struggled to her feet as the people around her stood up to cheer for the still-smiling hypnotist.

Remus Lupin made a demure but gallant bow. Hermione gritted her teeth, and gathered her parchment and pen into her handbag as the lights in the theater flooded back on.

***

"Excuse me," Hermione kept repeating, as she shoved her way through the throng of happily chattering muggles who were exiting the theater. "Excuse me, ah...can someone help me, please? I need some directions."

One of the red-clad ushers turned a curious eye towards her. "Miss?"

Hermione made her way over to him, fighting against the flow of human traffic." Yes," she started, thinking as quickly as she could on her feet. "You probably haven't seen me before, but I'm a friend of the Great Cambio's. Ah...I'm his sister, actually. Sister's...daughter. I'm his niece."

"Yeah?" The usher raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes," agreed Hermione, willing herself to sound genuinely convincing. "Spending the week in town with my friends, and I thought I'd come say hello. Does he have a dressing room back here?"

The look on the usher's face said very plainly that Hermione hadn't been as convincing as she'd hoped. "He does," he agreed, "but I'm not supposed to let anybody back there. No special treatment for anybody, you see. Otherwise everyone would start claiming to be related to the performers." They probably would, Hermione thought to herself. She should have known that trick wouldn't' work particularly well.

As she wracked her brains for a sufficiently beguiling response, the stage doors opened behind her, and both she and the usher turned around to look at them. Remus Lupin, still wearing his ridiculous blue cape, was stepping through towards them. He turned around and closed the doors behind him, before he approached them, and acknowledged Hermione. She couldn't tell exactly what his reaction to her was, as his face didn't' change when his eyes met hers. He nodded slightly, and said, over his shoulder to the usher, "It's all right, Kyle. She's a friend of the family." Giving Hermione a very slight smile, he gestured to a door next to that of the women's bathroom. "This way, Hermione, if you will."