Slytherin's Warning

9 - Charms

"Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now..."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-"

-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Restoring the books was a simple enough process, but a bit time-consuming. First, Draco cast Finite Incantum to remove the illusion of burning. Then he cast Scourgify. After that Lupin insisted that he flip through the book looking for damaged pages. Finally, the charms to protect the book from fire and moisture had to be recast. Draco took a few hours to really get accustomed to the new spells, but soon the two were working in companionable silence.

Draco internally groaned when his first spell revealed that his next book was Hogwarts: A History. By far the most time-consuming part of restoring the books was flipping through the pages, and the history book was famously long. But with a sigh he cast Scourgify and opened the book, only to sit back against his chair in his surprise.

A hole was cut in the center of the pages, and a small golden statue of a stag was nestled inside. Curious, he lifted it out, resting it on his palm, and as soon as it touched his hand it became animated. He bit back a smile as the tiny figure tossed its head and pranced in place on his palm. Draco asked, "What is this?"

Lupin looked over and froze. "Where was that?"

"Inside Hogwarts: A History. I wondered why you had so many copies. Are there surprises inside the other ones too?"

Lupin looked briefly amused. "If there are, you'll need to find them on your own." He moved to the chair next to Draco's and held out a hand. "May I?"

As soon as his hand was next to Draco's, the little stag jumped from one hand to the other with a running start. It looked up at Lupin for a moment, almost seeming sentient, then resumed its prancing and playing. Draco asked again, "What is it?"

"It was a gift."

"I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it."

"My friend made it by hand."

Draco examined the statue again. "She's an artist, I assume? The detail is exquisite."

"No on both counts. James cast Engorgio on it so it would be big enough for him to see what he was doing, then returned it to its original size."

"James?" Draco suddenly knew whom Lupin referred to, but it was still a jolt to see Lupin nod.

"Yes. James Potter."

"Why gold? Silver would be easier to work with."

"Don't tell me you've forgotten I'm a werewolf," Lupin said with dry humour.

"Hardly," Draco sneered. "But I saw you touching silver sickles, and thought the whole silver thing was just an old wives' tale."

Lupin shrugged. "For only a brief contact, there's no problem. Prolonged exposure to my skin gives me a mild rash. Irritating, but not life-threatening. Funny how myths get started, isn't it?"

Nodding his understanding, Draco asked, "Why a stag?"

"That's a long story."

"I don't have anywhere else to be."

That made Lupin smile, but when he spoke Draco didn't see the connection between his words and the small golden stag tossing its head. "Are you aware of a Death Eater called Wormtail?"

"Yes...."

"What do you know about him?"

Draco frowned. "Not very much. He's an Animagus, a rat, so that's where his name comes from I suppose. My father doesn't think much of him. I don't think Master Snape does either."

"His real name is Peter Pettigrew."

Draco searched his memory, for the name seemed familiar, then blinked in surprise. "Wasn't Pettigrew killed by Sirius Black?"

"What do you know about Sirius Black?"

"What does that have to do with--"

"Trust me. What do you know about Sirius Black, Draco?"

Gathering his thoughts, Draco said, "He fought for the Light during the Dark Lord's first rise. He was stricken from the Black family tree. Everyone thought he betrayed the Potters, even my father, but he really didn't. Last year my aunt killed him."

Lupin's mouth tightened at the recital of facts, but he said calmly, "Did you know he was an Animagus?"

"Oh, right. A dog, I think."

Lupin nodded. "His form looked a bit like a Grim. He thought it very funny."

"I still don't see what this has to do with the statue James Potter gave you."

"James was an Animagus, too. His form was a stag. They all became Animagi for me." Seeing Draco's incomprehension, he explained, "A werewolf's bite is only infectious to humans. While I might attack other animals, I cannot give them my curse. This was before the invention of Wolfsbane, and my friends feared for me. They studied to become Animagi to keep me company during full moons."

"My father had me tested once, to see if I had Animagus potential," Draco said. "But I didn't."

"Few people do. It's amazing to me even now that all three of them had the gift, and what's more, that they mastered it during Fifth Year, before they even took their O.W.L.s. Two of them ended up using their Animagus forms for far more than our full moon romps, of course. Sirius used Padfoot to protect his mind from the Dementors, to escape Azkaban and live on the run. Peter has used Wormtail to serve Voldemort. But James only ever used Prongs to keep me company, and I suspect, to entertain Harry as a baby."

Draco put his hand next to Lupin's, and the stag exuberantly leapt back to him. "The animation has lasted a long time." James Potter had been dead for nearly sixteen years.

"This gift wasn't just a toy. We lived in dangerous times. I kept figurines of Padfoot and Wormtail on my nightstand as well as Prongs, and all three of them had a figurine to stand for me as well."

"Of a werewolf?"

"That would have been a bit obvious, don't you think? No, I was represented by an ordinary wolf, and I argued against even that. I was overridden though."

"What did they do?"

"We charmed them to stay animated as long as the one who charmed them still lived. When one of us was in danger, his figurine heated up and emitted a noise to get our attention."

"What noise?"

"We each used something different. Padfoot barked. Wormtail squeaked. Prongs snorted, and Moony--that was my wolf--howled. Wormtail took his figurines back a few months before the end, ostensibly to fix them. They kept going hot and squeaking when he told us he was in meetings at work. It's obvious now that he was doing something dangerous in his capacity as a Death Eater, but we were all so trusting then."

"Gryffindors," Draco snorted.

"I suppose that's true. He also rather cleverly got Padfoot and me to suspect each other. I became so intent on picking apart Sirius's suspicious behavior--and he mine, though I didn't know it then--that we both missed the warning signs."

"And Potter?" Draco asked, looking down at the little stag. Prongs, Lupin had called him.

"I believe he didn't know what to think. You must try to understand, Draco. The world was crashing down around us then. The Blacks was far from the only family with members on opposing sides. James and Lily were, like all of us, scarcely more than children themselves, with Voldemort personally hunting them and their baby. I only hope that their few days in Godric's Hollow before Peter betrayed them were peaceful, happy ones."

"If the animation was tied to them being alive, then why is it moving?"

Lupin gently picked the figurine up, ignoring the kicking legs, and put it on the coffee table. Immediately it froze, a simple statue once again. "I knew the instant James was dead. I was conducting research when Prongs started snorting. He was so hot he slightly burnt my hand, forcing me to drop him.

"He ran around the table, very agitated. When I remembered where James lived, I realized the Fidelius Charm had failed. I contacted Dumbledore and was about to Apparate to Godric's Hollow when Prongs froze, just as you see him now." Lupin picked the statue up and it instantly started moving again, and when it was laid on Draco's palm it got to its feet right away.

"Feel how cold it is? Now it is nothing more than a toy, one that activates when touching human skin. I couldn't possibly throw it away, but it was too painful to keep out in the open. I'd forgotten I had it, actually. I should send it to Harry."

Draco didn't want to talk about Harry Potter. "You said Pettigrew took his back. What about Black's?"

"In Azkaban, one's life and soul are always in mortal danger. Padfoot continuously barked. I believed Sirius was the traitor and couldn't bear it."

And then Draco understood. "You had it melted."

Lupin nodded but said no more. He looked a little lost as he surveyed the mostly restored books. "Excuse me," he said, and retreated to his office. Draco put Prongs on the table again and watched him freeze. The little animal wasn't nearly so entertaining now that he knew the whole story, but he didn't want to pack it away again either. So with a sigh he turned back to the book.

As the last volume was returned the shelf, the house returned to normal. Lupin was gone for a good part of each day now, and on one trip took the statue of Prongs with him in a pocket. He always came out to tell Draco he was leaving, but never said when he would be back, or even if he would be. After Draco made a comment about the lack of food on the table, Lupin silently brought back a new cookbook to join the mostly-restocked cupboards.

The full moon was on the 16th. Lupin went downstairs. Draco went into his room, taking along the box of essays. Once the howls and screams and thumps started, it was impossible to concentrate on the intricacies of runes. He idly pages over some of the unread essays, looking for an easier read. One of them began:

It is said that long ago Charms were divided into three classes. One class, the largest, was of what was known as "Living Charms." Nearly all the Charms we know today fall under this classification. The other two classes were far more obscure, even in ancient times. One class is best described as "Protection Charms." One of the few Protection Charms not lost to the ages is the Fidelius Charm. The final class was known as "Dark Charms," and its practitioners were so feared, it was immediately outlawed by the earliest known wizarding governments. It is widely believed by Charms experts, including myself, that the three modern Unforgivable curses are derived from Dark Charms.

Draco looked at the name of the author and winced; this was Lily Potter's essay. Below, the werewolf raged. Pulling his blanket around his shoulders like a cloak, Draco continued.

It seems entirely possible that Voldemort used the power of Dark Charms to increase his power and prolong his life. The question we then must ask ourselves is this: how did Voldemort obtain the knowledge necessary to perform such Charms? It is my belief that he found an ancient Egyptian scroll in the magical Library of Alexandria that was written in Parseltongue. I believe that Voldemort combed the globe for any Parseltongue text he could find, but a colleague in Alexandria confirmed his presence there, and the disappearance of an ancient text no one could recognize as a specific language, let alone read. If we accept that this Parseltongue book of Dark Charms exists, what then? We do not have the book; even if we did, none among our Order speaks Parseltongue; even if someone did, I do not believe the book would give counters to the Dark Charms.

The answer, I believe, lies in the realm of Protection Charms. Since entering the Wizarding World, I have observed that one basic scientific principle cannot be denied, even by magic: that each action inherently has an opposite. The opposite of most of our charms and transfigurations is the simple "Finite Incantum," but it is not true of all our wand use. We use "Alohomora" to undo the simplest class of locking spells, different words to banish and to summon.

A single passage in one book is what led me to my idea. The Phoenix Charms is one of the most valued texts in the archives of the Headmaster's Library at Hogwarts. It does not belong to the current Headmaster, and it is unclear how it was acquired by a former headmaster (or even a Founder. For if it is genuine, it predates them as well). It is a well-known fable that Merlin, upon his death, was reborn from his own ashes as a phoenix. The book purports to be written by Merlin's lover, the witch Nimue, and that Merlin-phoenix was joined by another phoenix, with both dictating the information to her.

Nimue writes that she was able to write the entire text in Phoenixsong, much as the book Voldemort used was written in Parseltongue, that she spent the rest of her days trying to translate the book into the common tongue, to hide both the translated and original parts in different places around the land, and that the scroll before her comprised only the smallest part of the knowledge of the Phoenix.

Nimue's fate is lost to time, and it is likely that the book was kept through the ages by Headmasters who did not truly believe in its veracity. And then, not so long ago, the Fidelius Charm was rediscovered. The Fidelius Charm--which Nimue describes in The Phoenix Charms to the last detail. What's more, Nimue refers to the Fidelius as the counter to a Dark Charm which, "seeks out and reveals the caster's enemies."

Protection Charms to counter Dark ones; love to counter hate; light to banish darkness. We may be unable to study the resource Voldemort used, but it is my utmost belief if we seek out the works of Nimue, if we search the globe as Voldemort did, we may yet find protection from evil in all its guises--even from the Killing Curse itself.

For the remainder of this essay, I shall examine the contents of The Phoenix Charms, laying out the theory of its magic, how I believe it would act in practice (with limited speculation about the Dark Charm against which it defends), and finally, discuss the Fidelius Charm, the one charm in the book we positively know works.

Advanced Charms theory was something Draco had no real exposure to; Charms at Hogwarts revolved around practical applications. The start of the essay was interesting, though. Or was that partly due to his fascination with its author? For he could admit to himself at least that he found it fascinating to read the words of Lily Potter. Words he was certain Harry Potter had never seen.

And if she was correct about Protection Charms, that could open up a whole new realm of magic to explore. Could Voldemort know the Protection Charm that did the impossible and blocked the Killing Curse? It seemed unlikely; the Protection Charms as Potter described them were the lightest of the light, and the more Light the spell, the more difficult it was for someone with blood on his hands. Perhaps there was also a Dark Charm to block Avada Kedavra.

The werewolf had left off its howling now, and was whimpering and snarling. Draco was reminded of when one of his father's hunting dogs was injured, lashing out against the gamekeeper assigned to care for it. He remembered how cold his father looked watching the struggle, how Lucius ordered the dog be put down if it hadn't improved in the next week. Draco never did find out what happened to it.

Night passed into day, and Draco felt secure enough to take a nap. It was nearly noon when he woke, so it was a bit surprising to not see Lupin in the kitchen when Draco came out. The trapdoor was closed, the rug that covered it still pushed aside.

Something felt off. Lupin never traveled anywhere or spent time outside the day after the full moon, nor did he sit in his office. Once he'd cleaned his injuries and used some sort of salve on them, he rested on the couch. A shiver went down Draco's spine when he deduced where Lupin had to be.

Alohomora unlocked the trapdoor. It was a bit pointless, really, as the magic didn't keep the werewolf in and who would be stupid enough to open the door when they heard a werewolf within? But no matter--Draco was just glad it wasn't the locking charm Lupin used on his office.

Even with his wand casting light, Draco couldn't see much beyond the ladder. Steeling himself, he descended. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but the room was even worse than he remembered. Maybe that was because of the motionless, naked figure slumped in the far corner.

"Lupin?"

There was no response. After a moment of silent horror at the sight, Draco felt for a pulse. He knew there was a spell that would give feedback on Lupin's injuries, but he was no medi-wizard. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding at the presence of a pulse, sluggish though it was.

Next, Draco tried to figure out which among the multitude of scratches and bites might be life-threatening. There was one injury that caught his eye right away, a deep gouge running from the inside of Lupin's elbow down to his wrist, still bleeding freely. Draco resolved in that moment to read Lupin's two books on first aid. He hated feeling so helpless and not knowing what to do. He managed to conjure a thick white cloth--he didn't know the words to conjure a bandage--and pressed it to the wound, wincing as blood immediately began to seep into it.

He didn't know how to make the Levitocorpus, which hovered unconscious patients horizontally, work to get Lupin up the ladder. So he hauled his former teacher up and over his shoulder, disturbed at how light the other man was. He'd always assumed that the influence of the werewolf was what made Lupin appear so sickly, but now guessed that the man was severely underweight. It was an awkward, slow process to get Lupin back to the main part of the house, but somehow he managed it. Without even pausing to think about it, Draco brought Lupin into the bedroom and carefully laid him down.

Draco's shirt was sticky with blood--the blood of a werewolf, a tiny, panicked mental voice said--but Draco paid that voice no heed. He conjured another cloth to replace the first, but could not escape the sense that Lupin was slipping away from him. In the midst of Draco's confusion, there was a crack of Apparition, and a startled voice said, "Who the bloody hell are you?"