Remus Lupin and the Revolt of the Creatures

Chapter Four: The Magic of Images

The following week was a less difficult period for Remus than anything he had experienced since the loss of Sirius. He still had a little bit of money left for food, and he even managed to remember to eat something every morning and noon besides having dinner at the headquarters. He also gradually stopped blaming himself at least for having wrong motives for taking the responsibility for the tasks he had adopted. Slowly he became more aware of the truth that he could have several reasons for his actions, and that each of them or at least their combination was acceptable enough.

After the attack against Mrs. Porchead, Remus had first been ashamed rather than proud of having protected her. He had been tormented by doubting that he had genuinely wanted to save her from pain. It had seemed more likely to him that he had darted in front of her to stop the Cruciatus Curse from touching her just in order to make her forgive him his debts or to prove to himself and others how much better he was than her, or maybe he had done it to declare his belief in the principle of inviolability of all creatures - in any case not truly for her benefit but his own.

He had no idea of what Mrs. Porchead thought about his motives. Because of his better health he usually disapparated from his room and apparated back, and on the rare occasions when he saw her she hardly talked to him. A few times she came to his room when he had returned in the late afternoon, and she knocked on the door before entering. She kept impatiently asking about his current work contract, but left it at that. On the other hand, she did not make any further reference to letting the veela pay their share. She left his private property untouched - not that there was much she could have had profit from taking - and explicitly told him she did not want her sheet and quilt back after he had been using them.

One afternoon she came immediately after Remus had apparated, as if she had been waiting for him - and still been polite enough to stay outside of the room. She handed him a letter saying that an owl had brought one for her, too. It was an invitation to a hearing in Wizengamot at the end of August, in three weeks. She looked worried, and Remus reassured her that they only needed to tell the truth and that the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot was against the new decree, and that they had witnesses even for the deceit in the burglary. Before the trial he would still have to check that her account of the events would not contradict with his.

Temporarily reconciled to the notion that there were at least some unselfish motives for attempting a portrait, Remus continued his work with Hedwig. He realised that he needed to do his best to stop running his body down and tormenting his mind with feelings of guilt, if he was to have the strength required by this task. He needed physical as well as social and emotional strength to be able to channel Hedwig when the painting started to take shape.

With the big white owl mainly asleep on his shoulder, he gave the colours to the landscape. She dreamed of the burning red and yellow of the autumn, the fragile newborn green of the spring, the light of summer nights when the sun never went down. At first astonished, Remus took out his wand and performed a charm he had not intended. Even the landscape itself was not going to be ordinary. If everything worked according to Hedwig's idea, she - and anybody who would see the painting - might have a chance for more sensations than he had imagined.

But one scene was particularly hard for him to paint, and he kept waving his wand to hide the sketch for that one. Hedwig seemed to understand and began to bring up that distressing scene only at such times when Remus felt most rested and confident.

He tried his best to give some rest to both his body and mind. The nightmares disturbing his sleep became rare, but he started waking up early in the morning all the same. He would lie awake and stare at the darkness withdrawing behind the windows - and watch Hedwig's dreams in his mind, until he felt that he had to get up and draw sketches while waiting for her to return from her hunting. He began to collect any pieces of parchment or paper for the purpose, and by using his jinxed ink, which disappeared in a day, he could use them again and again. The impermanence of the drafts gave him courage to start portraying even what he feared most.

After a week had passed he had no money or bread crumbs left. On the second day without breakfast he offered to help the workers carrying furniture and cages into the pet shop. His skills at summoning charms earned him some cash to allow a couple of days more to devote to the painting. But in the same afternoon the young owner with a ponytail and sophisticated manners came to admire his work and tell him that the other owners were in a hurry to have the shop opened for clients. They agreed that the portrait would be finished in two days.

Remus had to be reconciled to the fact that he could not include everything in the painting. Still, on the following day he was determined to finish that particular scene which Hedwig had first brought up against his will. In this flash of a memory a full moon was illuminating the landscape so fiercely that it made the patches of snow on the gentle slopes of the mountains sparkle almost unbearably. He half forced himself to portray again and again in violent postures a figure, which he then hid in the shadows between the slopes.

In the morning after he concentrated on finishing Hedwig's figure itself. He enjoyed giving the final touch to her spread wings and finally portraying the tenderness and longing in her warm amber eyes. Switching to yet another scene, he eventually finalised the image of her head bent in the way it was now bent against his, with eyes closed.

He stepped back and looked at the picture of a sleeping snowy owl perched on a branch of a stunted tree in front of a peaceful landscape. Holding his breath, he took out his wand.

And he whispered the enticing words of the charm, "Iconis kinoitis zois!"

The image of the owl opened her eyes and gave him a look which he interpreted as expressing shared pride and love.

He felt the familiar peck on his cheek. To his greatest surprise Hedwig herself on his shoulder was no longer asleep. From her he got another look of love and gratitude. Then she turned to watch as the owl in the painting spread her wings and started her flight through the changing scenes and seasons.

***

It was still not noon when Remus went to buy a set of robes and a pair of shoes as well as some ink and parchment. When following Hedwig's flight, he had been startled to suddenly notice the young wizard with a ponytail standing next to him, analysing his art. This time he had tried to listen carefully. He had painted enough landscapes before to know that whatever merits there were in his painting, they would really come into existence only in the mind of somebody else who wanted to look at it. This painting, of course, had such value which nobody would recognise merely on the basis of art expertise, but Remus was keen to know if it was good enough for an outsider to admire.

The promised twenty Galleons, which the art-loving owner had been satisfied enough to pay to him immediately, seemed an incredible amount to Remus. He could not remember when he had been that rich.

A burst of charmed laughter filled the joke shop when he opened the door to enter. George hurried to shake his hand, while the laughter was followed by a sound of an explosion from the room behind the counter.

"Don't worry! That was not an explosion but just a sound of one. It's only Fred experimenting on something he doesn't know yet what. So, you finally came to see us here! You've been busy, but - I've noticed when we've met at the headquarters - you haven't been too exhausted. And today you look great!"

"Thanks,"Remus said with a wide smile. "And today I finally came to buy a present for Harry. I trust you can think of something he'd like."

George looked at Remus thoughtfully while pulling out a chair for him and offering a candy out of an invisible bowl. "Please, try one of these. It won't turn you into anything strange, but just give you the sensation that you've been fooled to taste such stuff which causes transfiguration. It kind of tickles you, doesn't it? Yes, we certainly have ideas, but most of what we now produce and sell is to irritate and insult people. You know in these days the main inspiration is all this injustice around us. So, we spend our energy and use our talent to develop new weapons, which will denounce the evil altogether. Our motto is: No serious harm. But harm all the same. That's always been the essence of jokes. So, not every client will be aware of a difference. And we don't attach this declaration on our products. But I expect you to understand."

Remus stared at George in genuine awe. "I suppose Dumbledore is aware of the way you are actually in the inner circle of the Order."

"No, not inner circle, rather branch office. Anyway, maybe you can get Harry something that he needs in order to do some innocent harm to somebody who deserves it."

"I suppose Harry would be happy to teach Phineas Nigellus some manners. That portrait has evidently been attached to the wall with Permanent Sticking Charm like Mrs. Black's , and Harry would like to continue to stay in that room with Ron. I think it's also good for him to share the room with Nigellus, who can act as intermediary of urgent messages to and from Hogwarts. But Nigellus is not good company for anyone who needs to build self-esteem."

"We have a perfect present for Nigellus - I mean for Harry."

George bent under the counter and lifted up a sheet of glass, like a window pane. He turned his back to Remus, and the other side of the sheet reflected his image with the difference of his red hair being frizzy and his face in desperate grimace. The mirror sighed and exclaimed, "Oh no, I told my hairdresser not to make it too curly! Will my lovely veela call me her honey bunny ever again!"

He placed the mirror on the counter and grinned, trying quickly with his both hands if his hair needed flattening. "From the other side you can see through this mirror, so Harry can hang it in front of the portrait and still enjoy the art - while Nigellus will have a less flattering look of himself. This glass can, of course, be used for other purposes, too. There is some strong magic in it, so with your skills in charms you could actually change it into functioning in different ways. It's really a valuable multipurpose object."

George started looking around at the shelves and continued with a trace of embarrassment in his voice, "But maybe you'd like something else. We haven't paid to the supplier for this mirror yet. It's a unique piece and I really can't sell it for less than three Galleons."

"It's all right. I'll take it. Are you sure three Galleons is enough?" Remus placed three gold coins on the counter and saved George from more embarrassment by volunteering an explanation. "For once I've got some money, because I just sold a painting this morning."

The explanation still left George in confusion."I didn't know you owned pieces of art. Did you, too, have an irritating portrait, and how did you manage to get rid of it?"

"No, no. I've just finished painting it, and it was made to order. You can go and check yourself how irritating it is. The owners won't get rid of it easily, as it's a wall painting in their shop, the new pet shop."

George tossed the gold coins into the cashbox and waved his wand to make a large sheet of paper wrap itself around the mirror. "You're full of surprises. I suppose you want to go and surprise Harry, too."

***

But before going to the headquarters Remus first apparated home and went downstairs to pay the rent for the whole summer. The gold made Mrs. Porchead speechless, and she did not refuse to sign the receipt Remus had prepared in his room. He had now managed to spend most of his money, but he calculated that he could still live on the rest of it for a couple of weeks, even if he now celebrated by inviting Harry out for lunch.

The only problem was that Harry was not allowed to go out of the headquarters without an escort of at least two members of the Order. Kingsley might, however, be available.

Kingsley was the only one who had resigned his position as an auror after the attacks against the goblins. In the meetings of the Order during the previous week Remus himself had supported and Dumbledore had accepted such suggestions that Moody and Nymphadora keep their positions for the time being, because they had not been asked to participate in the enforcement of the new decree. It might turn out wise not to leave the Auror Office completely in the hands of those in favour of it.

Remus suspected that Kingsley secretly held not only ideological but even a more emotional detestation in the Auror Office. However, Kingsley had insisted on resigning immediately simply on the grounds that he would, in any case, have been discarded for having interfered in a duty without a command. As a resigned auror he did not worry about looking for other employment, but spent days lazily at the headquarters and - unless important meetings forced him to stay - evenings and nights partying in the mansion of his family or those of other members in the high society. His grandfather had risen from being a blacksmith to make a fortune in cauldron industry, and he had been brought up to object to old noble families claiming privileges.

Kingsley had perhaps felt uncomfortable in Remus's presence even before the attack, and after the attack the feeling was clearly mutual. Remus certainly did not want that handsome self-assertive man to accompany him and Harry to lunch. But he could ask Kingsley to escort them first to Diagon Alley and then to the Ministry of Magic, where security was arranged in any case, and leave them alone at the restaurant of the ministry. Arthur could agree to escort them back to the headquarters.

Harry was not able to apparate, but it would actually be more fun to travel in the muggle way. Remus seldom spent time in muggle London, because there money was even more indispensable than in his world. Thus, those days he hardly ever appeared in his muggle colthes, a pair of rather torn jeans and a black t-shirt. But in the pocket of the jeans he was sure to have the change for a few tickets for the underground, because that was demanded as precaution from all the members of the Order.

***

On the underground train, which rattled the three of them away from the shabby neighbourhoods and towards the heart of London, Remus felt he was sharing with Harry a wonderful emotion of freedom. He had also finally asked Harry to call him Remus. Kingsley was sitting opposite to them, dressed no less elegantly than usual albeit casually, but clearly rather envying Remus's style, or that's how Remus had decided to interpret his look when Harry had exclaimed admiringly that he looked like a rocker. Remus had spent enough time among the less respectable kind of muggles in his drifting days to know what his long hair and prematurely aged face in combination with these clothes made him resemble.

His arrival at the headquartes at noon had been a happy surprise for both Harry and Kingsley, who had declared that they were utterly bored and more than willing to take a ride to the centre of London. The ministry was not the favourite place for either of them, but Kingsley had got the idea that he could meet some friends of his there - but nobody in the Auror Office, he had assured.

To Harry Remus had told privately that it was the only place out of the headquarters where the two of them could be alone without breaking the rules set up for Harry's safety. He had gone to Harry's room to let him open the present there, and seen that Hedwig was fast asleep in her cage. Harry had looked a bit downcast when explaining that Ron and Hermione had left for Diagon Alley and promised to bring him his schoolbooks. Remus had been able to discern an obvious change in his mood caused by the invitation and by a surprise belated birthday present, even if Nigellus had been absent from his portrait. Remus had said it was wiser not to stay playing with the mirror, but to hurry out of the house, before Molly would return from shopping and start arguing that it was too risky and not necessary to go.

When the train left another gloomy station Harry gave Remus a wide smile. "I've never been anywhere. The Dursleys, of course, never took me."

"Where have you wanted to go?"

"After I got to Hogwarts I didn't think I wanted to go anywhere else. But now I don't know. My fifth year there was not exactly cheerful. You know, I can't remember having been to London before Hagrid took me here on my birthday, when I was eleven. This is somehow like it was then."

"But you've travelled from the headquarters through muggle London before," said Kingsley.

"Yeah, but just to the ministry for my hearing and to St. Mungo's to see Ron's dad." Harry frowned but grinned then, adding, "Did not give me a feeling of being set free then. You must have travelled a lot when you were young."

"Not at your age,"Kingsley said. "Wizards don't usually take their children anywhere with them before they can apparate. Just through the floo powder network to some visits at other mansions."

"How about you, Remus?" Harry asked, giving Remus beside him another such look which made Remus feel he had run away with his best friend.

"I was also ten years older than you now when I first seriously took to drifting - I mean travelling."

Remus grinned. He felt a warm flush of youthful faith in the future. He wished he had been able to ask Harry if he would like them to travel together some day when what was called war was over. Instead he said, "Merely visiting places by apparating never really fascinated me that much. I used to choose muggle transportation whenever I could afford it. That's why I even enjoy these underground trips."

He felt the two of them were closer to each other than ever when Harry said, "I'll never forget the first time we met, and that was on a train, too."

"Well, the reason I took the train with the students to get to Hogwarts three years ago was that I was too ill and broke to travel by other means." Remus did not care if Kingsley was listening. "That trip is not - and was not - completely free of other less good memories, either." Giving Harry a melancholy smile, he added, "Still, I was happy I was there and met you, although it was quite a shock to wake up at the sensations of the presence of the Dementors and to recognise you as James's son. But that was the beginning of a good year for me despite all the... contradictory feelings..."

He thought of the feast after that distressing journey, the first of those Hogwarts square meals, which had for almost a full school year kept at bay the too faithful companion of his adult life - the continuous hunger. His emotional and intellectual hunger for interaction had also been somewhat eased by his friendship with some of the students and teachers.

Feeling that he would be able to slowly approach even the most painful topics when talking to Harry, he still pushed those aside and asked, "Didn't I tell you I met Neville? It was more than a week ago. How could I forget to mention it!"

"How is he?"

"He had done well in the OWLs. Outstanding for Defence in addition to Herbology. I suppose he really believes it's thanks to your teaching, too, and not mine... Oh, I haven't even asked you about your results."

At that moment, though, Kingsley told them it was time to get off. They were at the station closest to the Leaky Cauldron.

When they quickly walked through the pub to enter Diagon Alley, Remus said to Harry, lowering his voice, "If it's all right for you, let's not stop to do any shopping. I just want to take you to see something. And then I'd like us not to talk about it, until we are alone, over lunch."

Harry nodded, probably perplexed, but on their way both to number thirteen and back Remus led them to a light conversation about their memories of buying school equipment in the shops they passed by. They laughed at the Monster Book of Monsters, which Hagrid had made all the students buy three years earlier, and Kingsley explained how - when trying his wand for the first time at Ollivanders - he had managed to shrink the wand master's robes.

Remus asked Kingsley to wait on guard at the entrance of the pet shop. The ex-auror was clearly used to taking orders without questions, and maybe he also considered Remus's business, whatever it was, not worth his interest.

Greeting the workers who were arranging merchandise on the shelves, Remus took Harry in front of the painting. "It was only this I wanted to show you."

Harry glanced at him questioningly, but when he turned back towards the painting he gaped in amazement. Remus cautiously pulled him down to sit on the floor beside him.

Before they went out and joined Kingsley, Remus only nodded to Harry's question, "Do you mean you painted that?"

Back on the underground train Remus encouraged Harry to talk about his OWLs. He was happy to hear Harry explain in a humble manner that he thought he had just achieved the required results to be accepted to the NEWT classes of Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and even Potions, which he needed if he wanted to consider the career as an auror.

"I even got Outstanding for Potions. But I'm not sure I want to continue in Snape's classes, anyway, or to be an auror. But I guess the auror training is what I have to try to do unless it's... all over before I even finish school."

With a feeling of pity Remus wondered whether it was impossible to talk about anything to Harry without bringing up tragedies of the past or the future. When they approached the visitors' entrance to the ministry, he also wished he had really been able to take Harry travelling now, to places without painful memories attached to them. He knew Harry had come this way with his friends to rescue Sirius. Harry looked thoughtful, but when they entered the telephone box he just asked if they would be allowed in without any business. Kingsley dialed six two four four two and replied to the cool female voice's inquiry that they were paying customers of the restaurant. Each of the badges which slid out of the metal chute had on it, besides a name, the words "Bon appétit".

"The ministry is having a profitable business with this restaurant, and to make as much profit as possible they allow not only ministry employees but any paying creatures," Remus explained to Harry, as they started sinking down under London.

Remus had not been to the restaurant since the time when his friends had been auror trainees, but he knew that the place would not be a disappointment for Harry. Having put on their robes over their muggle clothes, they walked through the hall and past the fountain, which now had water spurting out of a single golden broomstick. Remus wondered why the golden statues of "Magical Brethren" had not been fixed after the battle. After the registration of their wands they entered a lift and ascended to Level One and Two Thirds: "The Windows of the Underworld".

When they entered the restaurant, Kingsley immediately got the attention of the head-waiter, who started showing him to his friends' table. Remus was satisfied to see that Harry was gaping again. The dining room was enormous and luxurious, rather extravagant with all the gold, the crystal and the purple velvet. But starting to move between the tables, they seemed to step to ever changing alleys, with only windows offering to them views of the interiors of different restaurants. Harry walked quiet beside Remus for quite a while, until a turn around a corner revealed a couple of pizzerias at a charming little town square, which Remus recognized as one in Verona, Italy.

"That balcony is the image of the one which according to the Verona tourist office used to belong to Juliet," said Remus.

"This is... incredible. You really took me travelling - and to a lot of places at the same time!"

"Would you like to have a look out before we decide where to settle? It depends on the weather, too."

"Yes... Out?"

Remus enjoyed Harry's multiple confusion caused by the sensations of already being out and by the knowledge of being under ground. Partly sorry about bringing Harry out of the illusion, but eager to show him everything, Remus led him to the back of the main dining hall, where they could - through the high gold-framed windows, curtained with purple silk and velvet - have an outlook over an architecturally designed and perfectly tended garden.

"The park of the Belvedere palace in Vienna," Remus introduced it to Harry. "I would prefer something more natural. But at this place you eventually get what you prefer. The overall weather and season seem pleasant today, so I suggest we go out."

Harry only nodded, and they walked through a spacious veranda and down magnificent marble steps onto a wide and straight path. The enchanted sunlight penetrated the perfectly translucent air so as to give an unearthly glow to the last blossoms in the bushes and flowerbeds - as the gentle cool of the completely still air clearly marked the end of the summer. The freshness felt soothing after the stifling heat of August.

Remus led Harry next to one of the simple tables which were placed on the lawn not all far from each other but separated by hedges or individual bushes. "It doesn't really matter where we sit. Do you want to choose the surroundings?"

As Harry shook his head, perplexed, Remus said, "All right, let me choose first, and you can change it, if you'd prefer something else. We just both close our eyes for a moment, and you also cover yours with your hand and give your other hand to me."

Remus decided to concentrate on his first spontaneous wish. When he opened his eyes, everything he could see around them had changed except the glowing light and the rosebush next to the table. The freshness of the air was intact as well, and he could hear the clink of cutlery from behind the bush, until it was covered again by the sound of the crickets and the waves breaking to the shore below them. They were on a terrace roof of a little whitewashed house surrounded by others, and the view of a sapphire blue bay with a rocky beach was framed by old platan trees.

Pulling out a rickety chair Remus helped Harry to manage in all his amazement to sit down on the other side of the small table, which was covered with a thin sheet of plastic.

"I hope you are not disappointed by being brought to such a simple little restaurant in the end. Would you like to change it to something different?"

"No...This is wonderful. This is... this is not real, is it?" asked Harry.

"No, this is not real creation, just an image of it. Captured in the air instead of words or paint on canvas or other such means, which humans normally use. I suppose the ministry co-operated with the elves to use their ancient magic of building images, and bought the copyright. Now nobody else is allowed to adapt the same method to offer private automatic visions, so the ministry can set the price as they like. The price for the food itself depends on the surroundings you choose." Remus pressed his palms against the plastic cover of the table and sat quiet with his eyes closed for a moment.

Then he continued his explanation to Harry, thrilled by the fascinated expression on the boy's face. "What is missing is the interaction with any creatures - so in order to fully enjoy it, you must come with a friend. In reality there would be cats circling a table like this. There are no waiters, as the food is prepared and served by the elves just like at Hogwarts. It will appear in a moment. I hope you'll like it. This is the kind of restaurant - tavern they call it in Greece - where I used to celebrate after selling a painting. It's relatively inexpensive, and the food is delicious and plenty. I suppose it's all right I ordered the drinks without alcohol. Wine doesn't really agree with me, and we will still taste them exactly like the real ouzo and retsina."

Several plates of colourful salads and sea food and specialities of the local cuisine suddenly filled the table.

"Help yourself, and if you want something else, just press your palms against the tabletop and think about it."

"Thank you, I don't think I can imagine anything better than what you've imagined for me. This is great. I didn't think having lunch at the ministry would be like this."

"I'm happy you like it. I was afraid you were bored with sharing meals with me. It seems we always have our conversations at the table. But for some reason food means so much to me that these are the most precious moments."

Remus smiled at his happy and bitter memories but decided to now concentrate on Harry, and on the beauty of everything he could sense at this moment, including what the table had to offer. He poured the drinks and they both started enjoying the meal.

But after a while Harry turned his head to survey the view of the sea and replied to what Remus had said, "Well, this is not just sitting at a table. Tell me - where have you brought me?"

"This place in reality is on the northern coast of Crete. Somehow I had it on my mind, maybe because the spell which I used for the wall painting you saw is believed to have originated from the artists of the Minoan frescos. Their images of life stopped moving centuries ago, of course." To be honest to himself, Remus hoped that a reference to the painting would remind Harry of what he had wanted to talk about as soon as they had left number thirteen, Diagon Alley.

To his pleasure Remus heard genuine curiosity in the question. "How come you are an artist? I thought you always worked fighting against the dark magic, like the aurors."

"No, I never had a chance to enter the auror training or any position in the ministry. According to the opinions of some people and the official definition I was not so far away from the dark side myself. In principle I've always been available for Dumbledore, but there was a long period of peace in the community, and while he didn't need me I was mostly... a drifter. That's when I took to painting as another chance. I had first carried on studies extensively and thoroughly almost in every possible field, but I could never get paid employment. Maybe I was just tired of that... also wanted to turn the failure into an advantage. I was completely free to devote myself to art. You know, I'd enjoyed drawing and painting since I was a little boy, and in 1979 I got the chance to start learning how to capture moving images of life. I mainly practised with sketches of..." He had to look away and draw a deep breath. "And then later after I gave up looking for a job on the basis of my scholarly qualifications, I painted only landscapes. I used to travel a lot. For a wizard the lack of money is not a big obstacle in travelling. On the contrary, disapparating is an alternative to paying debts. When I was young I used to be capable of apparating long distances except on a few days a month. So, I saw a lot of places. But I seldom had such close interaction with any creature that is required for a real portrait. I did not even seek it, either the chance to borrow an image of anybody or the interaction as such."

Remus spoke in a low voice, worried he might be talking too much about himself, but determined to try if that could be a start for becoming truly a friend of Harry's. "So it happened that your owl was the first creature after fifteen years to make me attempt it. There was a moment when I thought it was my birthday present to you. But my first instinct, after I had sensed Hedwig's distress when I was taking you home, was that the value of a real portrait would be in giving her a chance to make her unconscious memories into dreams, and the dreams as true as possible. Later I realised it was for my benefit, my welfare both materially and emotionally, and not without a connection to my ambitions."

While not knowing how much Harry even cared to understand about his complicated explanations, Remus still felt good about verbalising his thoughts.

Harry obviously concentrated on what he was saying. "You also wanted to dedicate the portrait to the memory of Amelia Bones."

Startled first, Remus quickly realised why Harry had seen the dedication. "Yes, of course, I forgot that you met her at your hearing a year ago. I charmed the dedication to appear only in the eyes of those who ever talked to her. I did not want to make it into a public memorial. Just the most intimate..."

Looking away at the belated rosebuds in the bush, he forced himself to confess "She was at Hogwarts together with us. Amelia was... she once showed me more tenderness than any other girl ever." Apart from your mother, he thought but chose not to add. "And she was the last one of my friends I had not lost."

Tears now filled his eyes so that he hardly noticed he had turned to face Harry. "After Sirius... I'm sorry I can't talk about Sirius yet."

"You don't have to," Harry said.

Remus caught himself wishing that Harry would reach for his hand across the table. He quickly grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it hard, while looking away again. "Yes, we have to. But I can't now. Someday I'll start telling you what he meant to me."

"People were staring at us!" The voice came from behind the rose bush and could be recognised as belonging to Draco Malfoy. It made Harry jump and pull his hand away. The sound-stopping spell had apparently gone out of order. Remus wiped his eyes, and the two of them could do nothing but look at each other while overhearing the conversation at the next table.

"Stop complaining. Now we've got privacy. And it's just beneficial for us to appear in public. You have nothing to feel embarrassed about."

"But Mum. They all know that Dad is in Azkaban. How can you act as if nothing had happened?"

"What has actually happened? My husband was arrested, he was condemned. But we can always continue with further appeals, so the sentence will actually never gain legal force. So, I'm going to act as if my husband were a perfectly respectable man. Some day the power will be in other hands. And no matter how long it takes, our property will stay intact. This administration has at least secured the rights for property as it should, while still allowing too many liberties for half-bloods and other worthless creatures."

"But Dad is in Azkaban. I've heard it's terrible. I know. I've seen Dementors myself." The boy's characteristically drawling voice now had a poorly stifled urgency in it.

But the woman's voice continued in a calm, thoughtful tone, "Yes, it's true. The laws protect property better than people. They lock up people in there after the first verdict of guilty, or even without a trial. On the other hand, even those who give up their appeals, or who are allowed no trial at all, have the right to keep their property. I must make Cornelius do something about that. It's ridiculous that an escaped convict can keep a vault at Gringotts and make a will so as to pass property even outside of the family. Even if it is just one of the mansions and manors of my family and once legally passed to that blood traitor, I'm not going to approve of him hiding it and then..."

The voice trailed off and was replaced by the sounds of the crickets and waves again.

So, Narcissa Malfoy, Sirius's cousin, and sister of Bellatrix, who killed him, did not hesitate to talk about him. Remus and Harry could not in any case do it now.

Remus whispered, "Let's talk about that another time, Harry. We can't know if the sound stopping spell breaks any moment in the other direction. I suggest we just enjoy escaping the reality while sharing this meal."

Leaning back, Remus looked at Harry intently until he saw his own melancholy but reconciled smile reflected in Harry's expression as a sign of understanding, and then he started, "Would you like me to tell you about the ancient ruins of the palace here on Crete? You might like to see the frescos some day. You must have heard about the monster Minotaur..."

***

"What did you think you were doing! The house empty! No note! I couldn't know if Harry had gone alone or with Kingsley or what had happened..."

Molly Weasley's rant started at the moment when the front door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place closed behind Remus, Harry and Kingsley, and well before she had climbed up the staircase to the hall. Remus did not really listen to her words. Instead, he enjoyed the sensation of warmth created by her figure of soft curves, by her plump face, by the burning colour of her curls, which in her distress she had let escape from her carefully arranged hairdo, and above all by her voice, in which she could not hide the deep loving concern, no matter how reproaching a tone she tried to adopt.

Remus thought of his own mother ranting at him during holidays, when he had honestly confessed all the pranks he had participated in or at least not prevented his friends from doing at school. He had learnt that it was safe to be honest and, still, that he should demand more from himself.

Honesty was what he admired in Draco Malfoy, as well as loyalty, no matter what questionable beliefs the boy had been brought up to support. As his Defence teacher he had not achieved much to make him question the values which he held as granted, but hopefully Snape could give him a chance, if it was not too tempting for the head of the Slytherin house to accept anything from him. This school year could be a turning point. Maybe Mrs Malfoy's open lack of sympathy for even her husband would finally awake her son to oppose or at least question the values in the family. Remus wished he had been able to take the challenge to acquire Draco's respect and to guide him, but he had to try to give his contribution on another level.

Dumbledore, of course, already knew about Mrs Malfoy's close relationship with Minister Fudge and her objection to Sirius's decisions concerning number twelve, Grimmauld Place. She or the Minister could never in practice obtain the house against Dumbledore's will, but they could cause trouble for Harry.

Remus glanced at Harry's face and was relieved, as the boy did not seem to brood on what they had overheard. Harry's eyes revealed how happy he was about the escapade.

The three of them stood there in front of Molly like sons of her own, too experienced to attempt any defence, cautiously stealing looks at each other, trying their best to look regretful and not to smile. Remus suddenly realised how satisfying it was to be ranted at as a member of a group, although he could not help reasoning that the initiative and thus the responsibility was his alone. Exchanging a glance with Kingsley, he felt camaraderie with him as well.

It was Kingsley who had - when meeting them by coincidence somewhere between Vienna and Verona after they had all finished their lunch - suggested that they still make a tour of muggle London. As Harry had been eager to prolong his freedom, Remus had agreed. Having overheard them talking about the art of painting, Kingsley had decided to take them to the National Gallery. He had assured that he would take care of all the expenses, as he had invited them and he had always enough muggle money with him, because he frequented muggle night clubs, too.

Remus had, however, been happy to find out that the entrance was free to see the permanent collection of the National Gallery. He had enjoyed lecturing on the western European art through centuries, while even Kingsley had listened to him eagerly, totally fascinated by the fact that there was no movement at all in any of the pieces of art. Remus had felt especially thrilled by some self-portraits, including one of Rembrandt in a self-assured pose, only a little younger than he himself. Harry had asked for a permission to tell Kingsley about Remus's wall painting, and Kingsley had expressed his interest quite pleasantly, saying that he would go to see it, but, loyal to his style, had refrained from asking more about it.

They had still walked around shopping streets, too. Kingsley had exchanged some of his pounds to Harry's Galleons, so Harry had been able to buy himself something he called a portable CD-player and another one for Arthur to enjoy examining. So, they had returned, tired but happy, not much before dinner time.

Remus was startled out of his musings to realise that Molly had stopped to draw breath - as was high time, after he had already followed all possible associations in his mind to pass the time - and that Kingsley had launched into a skilful defence. Without any arrogance Kingsley admitted the whole responsibility for not leaving a message for Molly and assured that Harry had been completely safe when escorted by an ex-auror and someone so wise and experienced as Remus, and he even said on behalf of the other two, "They really needed to spend an afternoon like this together."

Molly stared at Kingsley for a while and then spread her arms to hug both Remus and Harry at the same time. "I forgive you, if you just apologise like good boys and promise to leave a note next time. Fortunately I'd already had my new clock here fixed to include all of you. So I saw that for most of the time you were together and at no moment approaching the point of Mortal Peril."