A Model

Chapter 6

The Blood-Dimmed Tide

Harry clattered into the common room anxious for something to do. Outside the windows of Gryffindor Tower it rained with a steady cold drizzle. It was indoor weather, which meant that even his love of Quidditch hadn't made him thrilled to participate in early Saturday morning practice. He had returned chilled to the bone and caked with mud. Even the hot bath afterward failed to really warm him up. He glanced around unhappily, the thought of homework making him almost physically ill, but still needing some sort of distraction to take his mind off the cold, the rain, his scrapes, and his fugitive godfather. Harry was happy to see Ron stretched across the floor and then surprised when he realized his friend seemed to be legitimately immersed in a book. When Harry drew closer he saw that Ron had set out two chessboards. While he watched Ron frowned and carefully moved a knight from one board over to the other. When he noticed Harry, he smiled nervously and set down the book.

"I hope you don't mind my borrowing your chess set, Harry. I needed two boards." He grinned ruefully, "I ended up having to borrow Fred and George's pieces too."

Harry shrugged and dropped into a chair. "Borrow them whenever you want. My pieces need some time out of the box anyway." He didn't really play chess that often. When the choice of opponent was Ron, who always won, and Hermione, who never did, Harry didn't feel very inspired to play. "Is this a new type of chess?" He indicated the two boards and began working at hands tense from clutching a broomstick for hours in cold weather. "Going to give us all a chance to win by playing two games at the same time?"

Ron grinned, "No, I'm playing two games with myself so I can have some real competition," he said snottily.

When Harry laughed, Ron settled back on his elbow and said, deliberately casual, "Actually I'm reading the book Academic Merriman gave me."

The light words made Harry swiftly turn all of his attention to Ron. His friend looked as if he was dying to be questioned, so naturally Harry waited a few moments before asking him anything.

Without really listening to Harry's question, Ron started speaking very rapidly, plainly excited by the chance to share his discovery, "This book, it says that oneiromancers aren't the only people who use model-magic. They're just the only people who teach it. The Ministry actually hires," he paused and began leafing through the book. Losing patience he snapped it shut, "Well I can't find what they're called but they model short-term events." He looked at Harry intensely, "Like arrests or meetings between countries or ... battles." He pointed to the chessboards. "That's what this is about. Some guy who used to model battles used chess pieces." He shrugged uncomfortably at Harry's startled look and began to sound defensive, "It's the only model sample they had in the book so I wanted to see it. Though it doesn't really work, of course, because I don't know any modeling spells. But it is kind of cool to see how each of the generals were going to be thinking." His voice died down slightly. "I wanted to see if it was something I could do. You know, later." The last words were mumbled. Ron shifted where he was lounging, plainly unhappy with Harry's continued silence.

Harry struggled to find the correct thing to say. It had been happening a lot lately. He was still reeling from having the dreaded cat lady from across the street become a sharp-eyed witch who pulled him aside after class and informed him he would be receiving special training from her in dueling and curse protection. Now his friend was thinking about life after Hogwarts, something he hadn't ever considered. It made him feel upset. Though I suppose Voldemort is a good excuse for not thinking about the future. For more reasons than one.

Shaking his head to drive out that depressing line of reasoning, Harry summoned up a smile for Ron's sake. Dwelling on the danger in his life wasn't going to help him convince his friends he was healthy, happy, and recovered from last year. "So you're going to sit in darkened rooms with chessboards your whole life and not even get to play chess? Sounds like fun!" His voice was deliberately light.

Relieved that Harry had opted for gentle teasing instead of serious doubt, Ron tossed an outraged pawn at him. "Not my whole life! Just before I become preternaturally wealthy and send you a dungbomb a day." He sobered slightly, "It really is interesting, you know. But it means I have to learn enough Arithmancy to be accepted to the program." The last was said with a certain amount of dread.

Harry nodded, processing the words to be thought about later. "Well, at least Hermione seems ready to teach you everything you need to know about that," he said dryly.

At his words, Ron jerked up in surprise and looked at his watch. He let a groan when he saw that it read. Harry leaned down to see and snickered. If you leave now you will be two minutes late was written around the rim of the watch. As he looked it changed from two to three. Ron scowled and jumped up, frantically gathering up his book and chess pieces. "I have to meet with Hermione in the library." When Harry grinned at him, Ron began explaining rapidly and confusedly, "She had a plan set out to teach me Arithmancy. Not that I know I need to learn it, but the Academic said I should and it wouldn't hurt anyway - even if I don't decide to do this model stuff. I am still supposed to do it and ... and if you don't shut up, I am going to drop this book on your head."

With some of his previous dark mood lifting at the chance to tease a friend, Harry carefully stifled his laugh. Hermione had thrown herself into preparing a plan for Ron's Arithmantical education. She had read the books Academic Merriman had sent and Harry had caught her writing study-schedules for Ron. All this wasn't particularly surprising, Harry suspected Hermione had been wanting to direct at least some portion of their studies for ages. What did surprise him was Ron's willingness to accept possible time schedules and plan meetings alone in the library. But, as Harry watched his friend's face go through various stages of pinkness he thought he had an answer. Unwilling to let such a perfect opportunity pass him by Harry opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the sound of the common room door opening. He looked up and his jaw dropped to his chest. Dumbledore was awkwardly climbing through the portrait hole. He was dressed in robes so bright they hurt the eyes. Harry narrowed his and blinked, it looked like there were faces moving on Dumbledore's robes.

The Headmaster smiled into their attitude of frozen shock and smiled gently, "I am afraid I am not as nimble as I once was. It takes me some time to get in here now." He blinked at the room, "Rather more empty than it normally is, isn't it?" Ron made a strangled noise. Neither he nor Harry was willing to explain that one of the Seventh Years was celebrating a birthday in one of the spare classrooms. Fred and George had outdone themselves with a visit to the kitchens and many of the Gryffindors were busy stuffing themselves on eclairs and cream puffs. The few younger students that sat about the room were gaping at the unusual visit from the Headmaster. He fixed Harry with a stern look, "Mr. Potter, if you would, I have some various things I need to see you about."

Harry moved to join him, acutely aware of the stares he was getting. He risked a quick glance back at Ron who shrugged at him helplessly and mouthed, "Tell me later." Harry nodded slightly and followed Dumbledore out of the room.

"You know that people are going to wonder what you came to get me for, don't you? They'll talk about it," Harry said nervously.

Dumbledore made a slight gesture, one of the suns on his robes rolled its eyes at Harry, "Yes, I know. But I do need to see you or, rather, someone else does and I have found that what can't be successfully achieved secretly is often best done as obviously as possible."

With all the old unhappy disquiet rushing back, Harry continued the walk to Dumbledore's office in silence.

* * *

After the portrait door closed, Ron's quick frown managed to stop the stares and murmurs of the younger students, but he didn't think it would last any longer than he stayed in the room. Having the Headmaster descend on them and make off with their resident celebrity and danger-magnet was a little too interesting to be hushed up by Ron Weasley's scowls alone. Grimacing unhappily he stared at his watch which now said quite clearly, You're late. He had to go now. Waiting around in the common room would probably not tell him what Dumbledore wanted with Harry and it would certainly annoy Hermione. Besides, he was pretty certain that Harry would tell him later about whatever happened. And I know Hermione will want to be told that Dumbledore fetched Harry for something. I should tell her now. I shouldn't keep her waiting. He cursed himself when he felt his ears heat up. Again. He really hated sometimes the fair skin that made so much of his embarrassment so laughable. If Dumbledore hadn't come in when he had, he was certain his whole head would have ignited. Ron could tell when Harry was on the brink of handing out some heavy teasing.

Not that there was anything to be teased about. Certainly not. It was only that he was nervous about Harry knowing about his interest in modeling. And that he had been weak and let Hermione convince him to meet her regularly to go over his Arithmancy. In the library. Alone. Not that I needed very much convincing.

This quiet thought was ruthlessly squashed as he made his way through the portrait hole and out into the corridors. While he walked he tried to distract himself from the completely unreasonable feeling of pleased anticipation that seeing Hermione was bringing on by thinking about what Academic Merriman's book had said about tactics and the importance of chess. He hadn't really understood what was meant by "queen-diagonal politicking" or "bishop-envy," but the overarching idea of imagining how a specific set of real-life opponents would react made sense. That was interesting.

Ron succeeded in distracting himself so well that he didn't notice Crabbe and Goyle moving in from a side passage until he almost ran into them. He froze when he realized that they were ostentatiously blocking his way. When Goyle began cracking his knuckles he began to feel distinctly alarmed. His hand went automatically for his wand but the lack of the usual Malfoy made him pause. He could imagine the Ferret waiting somewhere hidden so as to accuse him of attacking first or possibly hit him with a curse from behind. But the problem is that if I don't attack first I probably won't be able to attack second. He had grown taller than they over the summer but they were still both twice as wide.

Ron backed up slightly, trying to see if he could find a way out. "Where's your boss? Are you even allowed out without him?"

Neither answered. They probably didn't have anything to say when Malfoy wasn't speaking for them. The idea amused Ron but he had waited too long. He suddenly found himself in a bear hug. A few aborted struggles left him still trapped by Goyle. Crabbe faced him his eyes narrowed. Ron expected him to be gloating but instead Crabbe had the expression he got when a professor made the mistake of asking him a question in class.

"Hurry," Goyle said behind him and Ron doubled over gasping as he got a fist to the stomach. Another followed directly to his face soon after and he stared down as blood dripped from his nose onto the floor. This is insane. This makes no sense. You have to get out. He struggled to come up with something as he braced himself for another strike.

No other blow was forthcoming though because a female voice rang out from the end of the corridor. "What are you doing?"

Goyle instantly dropped him and dashed with his friend in the opposite direction. Ron dragged himself to his knees shaking his head. He gingerly explored his lip and nose, wincing when his hand came away bloody. He blinked confusedly when a hand suddenly entered his field of vision but he was steady enough to grab it and haul himself to his feet.

"What were those Slytherins doing to you?" The voice was demanding and concerned. He looked at the girl muzzily. Ravenclaw robes, familiar from Astronomy class, need a name - Mandy Brocklehurst. Ron shrugged and lightly touched his nose again. "Pummeling me, I think. Don't know why."

She made a sympathetic face. "Crabbe and Goyle are both a blight on anyone worth anything at this school. Here," she handed him a handkerchief, "You're all over with blood." Ron accepted the cloth with a grateful noise and tried to get the worst of it off his face. Luckily, his experience with rambunctious older brothers had long ago taught him the spell for stopping a nosebleed.

"Thanks for coming by when you did. I don't think they were planning on stopping." He automatically handed the now filthy handkerchief back to her and blushed when she took it gingerly. "Sorry."

Mandy shrugged, "Don't mention it. Like I said, those guys are awful and I am sure the house elves can clean this up." She waved the cloth at him. Ron stood nervously, unsure at what to do. A glance at his watch told him, You're VERY late. Mandy evidently saw it too because she smiled faintly.

"Since you look okay, I'll be off. You may want to visit the Hospital Wing though. You don't want have a fat lip for weeks."

Ron nodded his rueful thanks and turned to rush to the Library. He was already trying to imagine Hermione's reaction to seeing him appear with a swollen nose and busted lip. The thought of her expression was almost worth the pain.

He didn't see Mandy Brocklehurst pocket the bloody handkerchief and set off in the direction of the owlery.

* * *

Ron's entrance to the library was greeted by a look from Madam Pince that suggested he was planning on taking a razor to her most treasured tomes. I must look awful. But she was still kind enough to indicate the back of the library where Hermione had evidently hidden herself.

When he arrived at Hermione's table in a secluded corner, her reaction was everything he could have hoped for. She looked up from a book, plainly annoyed at how late he was and then leaped out of her chair so quickly that it fell backwards to the floor. "What happened to you? You look like you tried to climb the Whomping Willow!"

Ron grimaced and then winced when the action pulled at his cut lip. Hermione had come around the table and was guiding him to a chair with little tugs and pushes. "I ran into Malfoy's minions." He dropped into a chair a made a half-hearted attempt to push her hands away. He gave up after a few token tries though. It was rather nice to be fussed over.

"Malfoy did this to you?" Hermione had pulled out a quill and waved her wand over it. She made an annoyed sound when the quill turned into a puddle of water that began dripping onto the floor.

"If you want ice, Hermione, you need to remember to add the chill-spell. And no he didn't. Crabbe and Goyle did," Ron said dryly.

She blushed furiously and correctly froze the quill. She shattered the ice and put the frozen bits into her handkerchief. "You're a fine one to act all cool and calm. You can't even see yourself!" But her hands were gentle as she placed the makeshift icepack on his lip. "Why would they do that?" She fixed him with what he had started calling her prefect-look. "You didn't start anything with them, did you?"

This time he did move her hand away. He also took over control of the icepack. "Hermione, I am not going to pick a fight with Crabbe and Goyle." He grinned at her. "At least not when I have an appointment with you." Now where did that come from? Ron stopped caring though when he realized he had chosen the perfect thing to say. Hermione turned pink and shifted in her seat. She looked pleased.

When she spoke her voice was slightly unsteady. "Well, then it was probably just general nastiness then. I don't suppose you really want to study Arithmancy now do you?" She sounded disappointed.

Ron looked at the table. It was strewn with papers covered in Hermione's neat handwriting. His nose and lip ached. He could see that precious homework time had been spent preparing his lessons. Ron took a deep breath. Sometimes sacrifices needed to be made for the sake of friendship and he did need to learn some Arithmancy. "After I shed blood and battled my way through Crabbe and Goyle? I am desperate to study Arithmancy." Some instinct, probably the same one that told him to let her use the ice pack, told him not to mention Mandy Brocklehurst.

Hermione laughed. She had already begun snatching up papers when he started speaking, so excited it was rather cute. Ron was very happy when she pulled her chair up close to show him exactly what she meant with her tiny writing.

* * *

Atropos had been hiding in the model room for about an hour. She'd left her work to tell Remus about Sirius's arrival and then rushed back to the room, telling herself that putting a few touches to a model that wasn't working well was vitally important. The fight over the biograph had flustered her more than she'd liked to admit. It was disquieting to realize how much Remus's good opinion was coming to mean to her.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her thoughts. Working on a model while upset was foolish. She needed calmness to avoid a mistake. But Atropos, sensitive enough to be upset a lot, was skilled at squashing and ignoring emotional disturbances. Remus, biographs, and arguments receded into the background of her mind for a time.

Carefully placing a silver spoon next to a heart-shaped cutout, Atropos felt her spirits lift slightly as she saw words beginning to form on the glass near the model. She would find out later whether what they said was true or not.

Sighing and getting up from her crouch she knuckled her back. If she was honest, it was amazing that the model was producing anything at all in the way of information. The illusory-Lupin wasn't working as a complete Foundation and wasn't telling her anything as far as what it actually was doing. It just sort of sat there, feeding information into the model and ignoring her. About the only thing that she was certain it was stabilizing was the section of time that Pettigrew had spent in school. The rest of the model bounced its information back and forth and up and down without any sort of outlet.

Which meant that she had had to come up with her own theory of what Lupin-in-the-floor was doing and also find some way of building a Foundation to complement whatever it was. Of course she had a theory. But if it was wrong, it would mean a waste of precious time and the possible need to start the model again.

Atropos wearily shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the desk. She irritably picked up the sketch of the new Foundation she was going to build. The sight of the neat notations and flawlessly calculated design renewed her confidence. The thinking behind it was wonderfully clever. I am so very good at this, she thought happily.

She sat with a satisfied smirk and checked over the list of items she needed. Going to London was exhausting. She didn't want to have to return, or make Remus go, because she'd left something out.

Gathering up a few odds and ends from the desk, she rose to leave through the fireplace, but was stopped by the sound of someone speaking to the door. She couldn't restrain a gasp of surprise when Remus walked in. She'd expected him to be with Black for the rest of the day or at least be avoiding this room. It was part of the reason she'd been sitting in there for an hour. Atropos had hoped to be gone in London long enough for Remus to forget about the argument over the biograph.

He looked better that he should have, but grim enough to make her wish she'd left earlier. He also didn't have any real reason for coming. Especially under the current circumstances.

"What are you doing here?" Atropos winced as she heard the blunt and completely asinine question come out of her mouth. Lupin seemed to have a talent for making her speak like an idiot.

He made an odd gesture, politely ignoring her rudeness, but his expression was guarded. "I have some time while Sirius talks to Harry and the Hospital Wing still smells of worms." She blinked in confusion at that. Worms? And that didn't explain why he hadn't gone to his office, his apartments, or any other of the places in the castle that weren't the modeling room.

Acknowledging her unspoken question, Remus's voice lost some of its formality and he passed a weary hand over his eyes, "I knew you wouldn't ask me what was wrong." He sounded tired and slightly mocking. But he wasn't laughing at her. He doesn't want to be alone, she realized. Understanding him now and feeling oddly gratified that he would choose to come to her, Atropos moved over to a chair and wracked her brain for something innocent and unrelated to Sirius Black to say.

Thankfully she had a partner in avoiding sensitive subjects. "Do you need any help with the model?" Remus asked leadingly.

Shocked that she could have forgotten the first words her new model had come up with, Atropos hurriedly answered. She was actually excited to hear from him whether or not the model-produced information was true. She pointed to the glass and smiled. "Is that correct?"

Remus looked across the room and started. A slight frown marred his calm face. When he answered, he spoke slowly. "I don't know. It never occurred to me that he would be unhappy about it."

The glass read:

On the third Hogsmeade weekend of his Fifth Year, Peter Pettigrew sat by the lake and threw rocks into the water for an hour. He was unhappy because Remus Lupin went to Hogsmeade with Sarah Seton. The last rock hit the arm of the Giant Squid. When they returned, he wasn't upset with his friend anymore.

Atropos shrugged, "It must have had some significance for him if it came up here." Remus didn't seem to be listening to her. "Remus?"

"Sarah Seton?" he said softly, "We went just that one time. I never knew it had bothered him. I never knew he noticed." He sounded mystified and rather distressed.

Atropos chose her words carefully. "You'll need to get used to that. It's the model's job to tell you things you don't know."

Remus shook his head and spoke dryly, "Are you saying that I should expect a few surprises?"

Happy that he was normal again, Atropos smiled. "I'm saying that people hide more things than they tell. Its why we need models." She shrugged. "And sometimes the early stuff from the model is wrong. Does this sound like utter nonsense?"

Remus turned away from the glass. "No," he sighed, "In point of fact it explains a few things that I stopped caring about a long time ago."

That made her laugh. Another thing models tend to do.

He smiled back ruefully. "Were there any other revelations I need to critique? Maybe a questionnaire to fill out?"

Atropos snorted. There wasn't a Witness alive who didn't hate the questionnaires. "No. You'll be happy to know that I haven't finished writing the new ones yet," she answered sniffily. She reached into her desk. "But I just remembered! I forgot to give you your mail ... this morning I mean." She quickly handed over two letters, shying away from a dangerous topic.

Remus arched an eyebrow. For some reason, the owls were continuing to send all his mail to Atropos's public office. Her mail seemed to end up in Sinistra's porridge each morning. They suffered through this; both thinking that arguing with stubborn fowl was beneath their dignity. Atropos hadn't gotten up the courage yet to order or wheedle Remus into doing something about it.

He raised up one letter that bore the Academy seal on the front. "My letter of acceptance from my new employers, no doubt? I am sorry, Academic Merriman, but I will have to quit. I got an offer from another company."

Atropos giggled and began shifting the papers around her desk. She really ought to leave soon. She wanted to be back from London in time to begin working on the model's Foundation again without staying up too late into the night.

When Remus made an annoyed noise, she looked up again. He was reading over the other letter. "Something wrong?"

He grimaced and refolded the letter. "Just that no one in the Order can seem to figure out what Lucius Malfoy does nearly every Thursday. Why would the man visit empty Muggle flats? There wouldn't even be any Muggles there to torment."

Atropos suddenly felt the pleasurable thrill she got when she was allowed to reveal something shocking and much needed to a client. She studiously steadied her voice. "Mr. Malfoy? If his habits haven't changed, he visits his mistress on Thursdays. Has been doing it for years."

Remus dropped his letter. "How would you know that?" he asked levelly.

Atropos just managed to keep from grinning. "I oversaw a short-term business-related model for a company who was thinking of dealing with him several years ago. It came up."

He simply stared at her, obviously amazed, "But why would he move her into Muggle flats every week?" He paused and then said tersely, "A Phantom Flat?"

This time she allowed herself to smile, "Yes. It moves into the space taken up by empty Muggle property. Means that people don't ever know where she is. Even the Actuary who helped me with the model couldn't find out her name."

Remus nodded slowly, plainly still surprised that an answer would come from so unlikely a source, "We'll definitely check into that." He frowned. "Did the company like what your model said?"

Atropos waved an arm. "Actually I had to advise that they avoid Mr. Malfoy like the plague. And it wasn't because of the mistress," she said wryly, "Mr. Malfoy doesn't like me at all." She rose from her seat. Now that Remus looked fully recovered and busy, she felt free to go.

Collecting her list she looked at Remus, who had pulled out a blank sheet of paper and was drafting a letter to his Order contact. She almost invited him to come with her to the city, but stopped. No matter how helpful she had been, Sirius Black would still want to see his friend. She swiftly changed what she was going to say. "I am going to London to get some ... things for the model. I should be back in a few hours." It came out rather more abruptly than she intended.

Remus's head shot up and the quill froze on the parchment. He blinked several times but all he said was, "Don't you have to meet with students today?"

Atropos suppressed a grimace. Of course Remus would remember her schedule. "I canceled with them a few days ago. I told them I had business in London today. And its true!" she said defensively.

He looked uncomfortably knowing now, "Certainly it is. What exactly do you need to get?"

Now she chose her words carefully. She hadn't wanted to admit yet that the model wasn't functioning as she thought it should. She didn't want him to think her incompetent. Besides, if I get the Foundation built correctly he need never know that it wasn't working to begin with.

"Just a few nonmagical items. Nothing too strange," she said lightly.

Remus narrowed his eyes, suspicious of her tone. She looked innocently back. Finally, he shrugged and turned back to his letter. "Have a good time. Don't get run over by those lurkies."

"Lorries."

"Those too." He didn't seem to be paying attention, but she saw the slight curl around his lips.

Atropos decided to be amused as opposed to annoyed and left through the fireplace.

* * *

Juggling several packages, Atropos swore under her breath as a large man in a heavy coat bumped into her, nearly knocking the bags from her arms. In the vastness of Hogwarts Castle it was easy to forget how crowded London was. Her oneiromantic work brought her here regularly to collect odds and ends needed for the models so she wasn't completely confused by the hugeness of the city, but her new Muggle shoes were pinching her toes and she was really wishing she could levitate her bags instead of hauling them about. I should have brought Remus along. He could have carried some of this stuff.

At least she had the coat her father had sent, though her mother had carefully explained to him that a witch wouldn't need "the silly thing." Now she was grateful for Dad's stubborn Muggleness. She was warm, dry, and normal looking in the crowd of shoppers.

When she calmed after her near collision, she allowed herself to feel satisfied with the trip. She managed to get everything on the list, even the aerosol can of silver paint and the rubber glove. She ducked into a small clothing shop, hoping to find the last item.

Seeing what she was looking for Atropos moved over to a display of silk scarves and began searching for the correct color combination. Vaguely shaking her head at the salesgirl's murmured question, she pulled out a brown and red one. Not quite what she wanted. The other costumers moved about on their own errands and music played softly in the background. Designed to be comfortable and stress free.

When she found the suitably bright red and yellow scarf, she moved slowly to the counter and set her bags on the floor while she waited her turn. Now that she had everything she needed, she could enjoy the pleasant warmth inside the shop.

A man in an expensive wool suit stood in front of her having a purchase wrapped up. He clutched an umbrella in his hand. When he was finished, he turned and smiled vaguely. Atropos nodded back and had only a moment to get an impression of brown eyes and nondescript features before she felt a burst of agony in her stomach. She stared at the man in total disbelief as he struck again at her chest. He smiled coolly at her and stepped away, holding a dripping knife in his hand. She staggered to the side as he pushed past her, completely losing her balance.

My wand. My wand is in my purse. On the ground.

As she collapsed to the floor, her head cracking against the hardwood, she was given a view of his departing feet. Through the pain she thought fuzzily, That's not right. He wouldn't wear those.

Atropos foggily heard the people around her screaming. A salesman had run around the counter and was shouting for someone to call an ambulance. She could see the puddle of blood forming next to her. It seemed incredibly wide. As she let out a small moan, an older woman crouched over her and grasped her hand. "Don't worry, dear. It'll be fine. The paramedics are coming. It'll be fine." She was still listening to the old Muggle's murmured assurances when she blacked out.