Slytherin's Warning

5 - Lapageria rosea

[["What is it, Rowena? What's got you so excited?"

"I think I've found it, Salazar. The missing link in Incendia-Aurum. Just think! The perfect healing potion. Just imagine! No more children dying before their time."

"You've tested it?"

"Against nearly everything I can think of, except that ghastly curse your brother developed. I just need to finish writing my notes and then share them so other Potions Masters can verify the results."

"Rowena... I think you should wait. Something is coming in the stars, something that unsettles me."

"But how could it possibly hurt anyone? It's a healing potion. If anything, it should help."

"I don't know. Please... trust me?"

The above was the last recorded conversation between Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin [translated into modern English by Candace Newfolk]. It raises far more questions for historians than it answers (beyond the obvious question of the third party who heard and recorded it). Had Ravenclaw truly discovered the potion considered more myth than fact even in her time? What was Slytherin's purpose in stopping her? And why did she never publish the knowledge, even after Slytherin broke with the other founders?

--from The Hogwarts Founders: The Riddles They Solved and the Riddles They Left Us, by Kenneth Royer

As he trailed after Lupin up the long driveway, Draco reflected that although the approaching mansion wasn't as imposing or impressive as Malfoy Manor (as though any house could be!) it did come fairly close. Ivy chased itself up old brick walls and the fence they'd passed through just outside the Apparition wards was heavy wrought iron.

Draco studied the back of Lupin's head. The werewolf looked very ill and weak. One look at him and any healer would set him bed rest. He'd made breakfast as usual but didn't eat a bite of it, and nearly one o'clock pulled himself out of his chair, saying, "It's time to go." Draco had frankly doubted whether Lupin would be able to Apparate them both, but said nothing, and fortunately they'd arrived at their destination with all limbs still attached and in the correct places.

Draco had spent a few days at the cottage under the Glamour in order to grow accustomed to it. It was a fairly complex charm, and one Draco hadn't heard of before. It was quite encompassing; not only did it change such features as hair and eyes but also the features of Draco's face and even his build, to a certain extent. There were some limitations, however. The charm could not be cast on oneself and it only lasted four days before it needed to be reapplied. And though it withstood some revealing spells, if hit with the correct spell the effect would dissipate.

For that reason, Lupin added to Draco's new features a disfiguring scar slashing across his face, and put a simple Glamour on top of that. It was his hope that, should someone doubt Draco's story and cast Finite Incantum or a revealing charm, Draco's false features would remain, but with the scar popping into view. Then, hopefully, the caster would be embarrassed and not think of casting a second, more comprehensive spell. The whole thing was Lupin's idea, and Draco still felt a grudging appreciation for Lupin's craftiness; it was a plan worthy of a Slytherin.

And his new look? His face was not so narrow; not round, exactly, but the points of his chin and nose were not so sharp. His skin was darker, too, almost the complexion of an Italian. His eyes and hair were an unremarkable brown, and his frame was sturdier. Not fat, but not the leanness of a Seeker, either. Of course the illusion didn't truly add any muscle tone, but when Draco looked in the mirror his immediate reaction was, "Definitely a Beater."

His new face was very plain. The sort of face one saw and forgot upon looking away, the sort to blend into a crowd and become almost invisible. Draco understood why Lupin gave him such features, but it was still irritating to be--well, not ugly, he had to admit, but so bland. His true features were striking and handsome. That was not vanity, Draco thought, but simple fact.

There was movement from the front of the house and a house elf popped up before them, squeaking, "Jiri welcomes Master Remy and guest to Longbottom Estates!"

While Lupin thanked the elf, Draco stopped dead in his tracks. "Longbottom?" he hissed. "This is the family?" Yes, now he could recognize one of the approaching people as the squib in his year.

The elf looked confused, and Lupin said placidly, "This reaction is exactly why I didn't tell you before. Ah, here they are." And if Draco said anything more he knew he'd likely blow his cover.

"Remus!" Longbottom said with a big smile, holding out his arms.

"Cub," said Lupin, a little smile playing around his mouth as he gave the boy a small hug. Longbottom stepped back and the elderly woman who'd also come out of the house held out a hand, not looking particularly pleased. "Augusta," Lupin said pleasantly, shaking her hand.

"Lupin." Then she turned her gaze on Draco. "And this is your charge, I suppose?"

"Indeed. Jacob, this is Augusta Longbottom and her grandson, Neville. Augusta, Neville, this is Jacob Elliott."

Draco nodded at them both. Apparently finished inspecting him, the elderly witch ordered, "Neville, show our guest to his room. I will speak with your teacher."

"Sure," said Longbottom. "Come up and say 'bye,' before you go, OK Remus?"

"All right," said Lupin, and so Draco found himself following Longbottom away, half-listening to his chatter.

"--so exciting, we've never had someone my age come to stay. You can call me Nev, if you like, some of my friends do. I know you were home-schooled--did you ever wish you could go to Hogwarts? It has its ups and downs I guess but I'm glad I go there. I don't know if it will be open next year, though, and next year is my last year. What's your favorite subject? I like Herbology, and Defense--depending on the teacher--but I hate Potions more than anything. Oh--here it is."

The guestroom was moderately sized and tastefully decorated. Draco dropped his bag and sat down on the bed, belatedly realizing Longbottom had asked something. "I'm sorry?" he said as politely as he could.

"Is the room all right?" Longbottom was looking at him strangely.

"Oh--yes. Thank you--Nev." Longbottom's face brightened when Draco used the nickname. Though, Draco mused, he should probably try to think of the other boy as "Nev," as well, or he might slip up. There was a short, awkward silence. Draco cleared his throat and asked, "So how do you know Mr. Lupin?"

Longb--"Nev"--started chattering about his third-year Defense class, which of course Draco already knew. The story about Longb--Nev's--boggart being Master Snape had gone all around the Slytherin common room. So while "Nev" went into far more detail about the school year that necessary, Draco let his mind wander.

It wasn't surprising they had little to talk about. Draco couldn't ask "Nev" about his family--he knew very well where the Aurors Longbottom resided. St. Mungo's, primarily by the hand of his Aunt Bellatrix. And "Nev" wouldn't ask about "Jacob Elliott's" family. The story Lupin had invented was that werewolves attacked the Elliott family during the last full moon, killing both parents. Lupin was purposefully vague about how "Jacob" ended up with him rather than some Ministry-sanctioned foster family, and apparently the Longbottoms were well-mannered enough not to push.

"--so he told the Slytherins that Remus was a werewolf, and Remus had to resign. Sorry--it still makes me mad. He was our best Defense teacher ever, and the worst teacher ever ruined it all." Master Snape certainly wasn't the worst teacher ever, not by a long shot, but Draco couldn't exactly say that right now.

Instead, he managed to say, fairly diplomatically he thought, "Why was he the worst?"

Neville paused. "Lots of reasons. I don't want to talk about it now though. Anyway, I was really upset when Remus left. Except for Herbology, his class was the first one I was ever any good in. And, you know, Herbology is more passive magic, almost no spell-casting. I felt--better--about myself in Professor Lupin's class."

"I understand," said Draco, making a supreme effort not to say anything mocking. "But I still don't understand how that made him a family friend. Or why you call him by his given name."

"I just couldn't make it make sense in my head, you know. I thought I knew how all werewolves behaved, from books and things, but I also knew Professor Lupin wasn't like that. And I saw how people turned on him when they found out, even people who'd always respected him and been perfectly nice before. But you know, Professor Lupin was always a werewolf. I mean, it wasn't him who changed the way he acted, it was everyone else. It bothered me. It wasn't fair."

"Ah, the Gryffindor obsession with fairness," Draco thought.

"I needed answers. I wrote a letter to him--a pretty jumbled letter, I think, looking back now. Eventually, he wrote back. I--I didn't have many close friends then, and Gran thought it was a letter from one of my mates. She was pleased and--well, I didn't want to admit it wasn't a classmate, so I pretended I'd made a quill pal. So Gran went and got me all this nice stationary and so I wrote to him again. And he wrote back again, and it kind of went from there.

"Of course, Gran eventually figured out the truth and she wasn't very happy. She sent me to my room and hunted Remus down--ah, that didn't come out quite right--to tell him off. I don't know what they talked about but then they started exchanging letters too! And then she invited him to stay here for a few weeks! So Remus became sort of a mentor to me and he told him to stop calling him "Professor," because he wasn't anymore."

Draco frowned. "Did your Gran know he was a werewolf from the start?"

"Of course I did." Both boys whipped their heads around to see Mrs. Longbottom standing in the doorway. Her sharp eyes rested on Draco. "Lupin tells me you no longer have a wand."

"That's correct. It was broken. And now that I'm in hiding and Ollivander has vanished...." He shrugged.

"That's unacceptable, especially in these times. I know a wandcrafter. An eccentric old witch, and her methods are certainly different from Ollivander's, but highly skilled in her own way. I'll send her an owl."

Draco didn't know what to say, and he doubted Lupin would allow him a wand in any case. But Lupin, who had entered the room after Mrs. Longbottom, said, "I appreciate that, Augusta, and I'm sure Jacob does as well. In the meantime, Jacob, I expect you to exercise every precaution and to behave appropriately."

"Not to go running back to the Dark Lord," Draco silently translated. "Not to tell these blood traitors what I really think of them." Aloud, he said only, "Yes, sir."

"I'll see you in a day or two then." What was the second day for, Draco wondered. Simply to recover in his bed without Draco underfoot? Or a mission for the Order, perhaps?

"Be careful," Neville said earnestly. Lupin smiled at him, but made no promises, and a moment later he was gone. Mrs. Longbottom also retreated from the room. Neville bit his lip and seemed lost in thought for a time, then seemed to shake himself and pasted a falsely bright smile on his round face. "Right then... want to see the greenhouses?"

Much like his reaction to the main house, Draco was reluctantly impressed by the greenhouses, which were actually far more extensive than the ones at Malfoy Manor. Just inside the doors, Neville became engrossed in a discussion with a house elf about some kind of parasite problem with the banana trees. Not particularly interested in listening to them debate the best course of action, Draco wandered further inside, careful to keep to the marked path.

He recognized some of the plants, but not very many. Herbology was of little use to him; now the potions ingredients they made, that was a different matter completely. Neville caught up with him just as he was looking over a vine with pretty bellflowers. The unusual colour of the flowers--rosy red with white mottling--was what had caught his attention. "Ah, I see you've found my Lapageria rosea Isn't she a beauty?" Neville said affectionately, glancing at the surrounding soil's moisture gauge.

"Is it a magical plant?" That was the tricky thing about Herbology, it indiscriminately used muggle plants and methods right alongside magical ones.

"Oh, Muggles know about it, it's the national flower of a Muggle country in South America. But it has magical properties, too. The leaves are used in Tenura tutela tenura dignitas." Draco looked at the dark, oblong leaves appraisingly. The "Double Tenura" as potionmakers often termed it, was among the scant three percent of blood rituals that wasn't classed as "Dark." Rumour had it that Potter's mother--he recalled suddenly that her name was Lily--had made some sort of modification to the ancient potion of protection, and that may have played a role in sparing Potter's life those years ago.

But the other boy, heedless of Draco's distraction, continued, "The flowers are used sometimes in Mind Healing, and some herbologists have postulated it may be an ingredient in Victus Incendia-Aurum.

"Incendia-Aurum is a myth," Draco said automatically. "A fantasy of healers and storytellers." A Potion to heal any injury, to fix what even Phoenix tears alone could not. Living Fire-Gold.

Neville smiled. "Perhaps." He gave the flowers one last pat, and they moved on. After examining the Venomous Tentacula (from a safe distance) Neville broke the silence. "Ah, sorry I sort of forgot you before, but you really shouldn't go around in here alone, especially without a wand."

"I stayed on the path," Draco said, irritated.

"Well, that's good, but some of the plants are kind of aggressive to strangers whether they're on the path or not. You'd better stay close to me, just in case."

Draco gritted his teeth and nodded. The very idea of needing protection from the squib... but it was true that the Gryffindor was acting different here from how he did at Hogwarts. More confident, somehow.

Dinner was uncomfortable. Mrs. Longbottom smoked a man's pipe and talked through the whole meal about the doings of the Lady's Society she belonged to. It sounded mostly like card games, gossip and sporadic charitable work to Draco. It appeared that neither he nor Neville were required to speak. After dinner Draco let himself get roped into playing a few games of chess, easily winning each time. He could have done without Neville's, "Wow, I think you might be almost as good as my friend Ron," though.

That night, Draco lay awake in the unfamiliar bed, staring up at the dark ceiling without really seeing it. Everything was quiet. He wondered where Lupin was at that same moment--only because he had nowhere else to go and in a few days his disguise would fall, of course. Eventually he drifted off into uneasy dreams.

The next day was July 21st. Death Eaters wiped out six families in the countryside outside Leeds. Some of the deaths were caused by werewolves. Neville challenged Draco to a game of Gobstones, and lost miserably. Lupin did not come.

July 22nd. Neville, after losing three successive games of Exploding Snap, confided in Draco that his birthday was July 30th. "I'll finally be of age, so I can go for my Apparition license and practice spells here." There was a sort of determination in his voice Draco had never heard before. Two people were reported missing. Lupin did not come.

July 23rd. Neville told Draco about his parents. He told Draco that more than anything he wanted to kill Bellatrix Lestrange. He asked if Draco thought that made him a bad person. Draco swallowed hard and told him it did not. Draco was brought up understanding the inherent worth of vengeance; Lucius was a great believer in it. A wizard who did not seek revenge after being wronged was weak. So why should the rightness of it be negated if the one seeking vengeance was a Gryffindor? It was a startling thought.

As dusk was beginning to gather, Lupin arrived. He looked even worse than after the last full moon, Draco thought--especially considering it was a day and a half since moonset. He leaned heavily on a cane and limped slowly up the long driveway. As he approached, Draco saw a nasty cut alarmingly close to his right eye. When Neville offered some of their supper--they were just finishing when Jiri informed them Lupin had arrived--Lupin blanched. He did sit for a little while though, and listened to Neville talk about his plants while Draco got his bag.

As he was returning to the entryway, Draco heard Neville ask, "--Jacob come over for my birthday?"

"No," Draco thought as he walked into the room.

"I'm sorry, Neville. Jacob is helping me with a project and I need him there." Draco noticed the look Neville sent him. Jealousy. Lupin continued, "But of course you may write to each other. Just enclose any messages for Jacob inside the same envelope you send my letters in. I assure you, I won't read his mail. Jacob? Let's go."

Mrs. Longbottom rose and asked, "You're certain you don't want to rest a bit longer? We have plenty of spare rooms," her concern obvious despite her usual stern tone.

"I'd rest better at home, but thank you." Lupin limped out of the room.

"See you then," Draco said awkwardly, and followed. Once outside the house, he asked, "What is this project I'm working on with you?"

"There isn't one. I didn't think you would want to spend Neville's birthday with him. Was I wrong?" Draco shook his head, noting again how unwell the werewolf looked. Lupin walked slowly and weaved from side to side a bit. Draco asked quietly, "Why not stay? The Glamour will last until midday tomorrow."

"I don't need or want pity and I don't accept charity." Draco shot him a sharp glance, but Lupin was concentrating on the ground immediately in front of his feet.

"You sure you'll be able Apparate? I can Apparate myself there."

"I've managed it feeling worse." That wasn't completely an answer, but Draco let it go.

He hadn't seen the outside of the cottage before, but it was unremarkable. Seeing the familiar sofa and bookshelves gave him an odd feeling, though he couldn't have said what. Lupin immediately lay down on the sofa, pulling a fuzzy, blazing orange blanket over him as he did so.

Draco spotted the newspaper on kitchen area's table, still rolled up. He grabbed it and a glass of pumpkin juice and went to read it in bed.

Three people had been killed the day before. Draco carefully put the juice down, managing to not spill quite all of it as he stared at the front page. Theodore Nott had refused the Dark Mark. He would never play chess in the Slytherin Common Room again. And a Death Eater assassination team attacked the home of a prominent Light family in a village called Ottery St. Catchpole. Only two family members were home at the time, but it was enough.

Molly and Ginevra Weasley were dead.