(A/N: We met Joanie Vincent all the way back in Chapter 4; Agnes Mayfair, in Chapter 31. I'm trying to conserve characters, you see.)
(Disclaimer: I've borrowed slightly in this chapter from the work of William Goldman. And quite a bit from J.K. Rowling, but that goes without saying - as should the fact that I do not profit thereby.)
*
"Coming Back Late"
by Paracelsus
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XXXXIII: Forced Re-Evaluation
*
Monday, 30 September
Dear Ms Prewett: Here's my "sharing sheet" for Witch Weekly this week. Also, I didn't put it on the sheet, but you should know that Rose Weasley looked sick in Charms today, so Professor Flitwick sent her to the Hospital Wing for some Pepper-Up Potion. People are saying she may have wizard's flu. Before she got sick, she seemed to be very excited that her mum was the new Minister, but now she's not saying a lot about it. I put other details on the sharing sheet, and I'll have another sheet ready when Rose gets out of the Hospital Wing.
Yours sincerely, Lapis Flint.
*
"And I've reset the Floo connection, and here are the keys and such," Susan Bones finished, sliding a fat envelope across Hermione's new desk at the Ministry. "The Ossuary is now officially let to you. I thought perhaps we might celebrate this evening by having dinner together, you and I and Neville…"
"Thank you, Susan," replied Hermione, accepting the envelope, "but perhaps I could take a rain check? I'm… not up for socializing tonight…" Her smile looked wan.
"Rough Tuesday, Minister?" Susan grinned, nodding at the other parchments piled high on the desk. Her grin died when Hermione didn't respond in kind.
"It's not that. It's… Madam Pomfrey sent me an owl this morning. Rose has to spend the night in the Hospital Wing." Hermione shook herself and smiled more brightly. "Poppy reassures me it's probably nothing, but better to be safe than sorry. I suppose I'm simply worrying too much."
"I don't think it's possible for a mother to worry too much," Susan said sympathetically. "Hope Rose feels better soon… and we'll definitely take a rain check." She gave Hermione a quick hug and left the Minister's office, almost bumping into Blaise Zabini as he was going in.
*
Right, then, I've read through the first five chapters of each year's textbook, Harry thought wearily as he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. To cover the "theoreticals", if any come up tomorrow. I really, really hope they don't. I don't care what Neville says, I'm pants as a teacher.
He looked around the master study at The Ossuary. He'd officially moved in that day - true to his promise, he'd asked Ayesha to transfer all his belongings from Jacob Clayman's flat, and he was bemused to note how many items had been cleaned, pressed, repaired, or otherwise improved during the transfer. It boded well for leaving the elves to tend the place in his absence.
Harry sighed, stretched, and glanced at his watch. About time for dinner, I guess. I can whip up something simple - Susan did say the larder would be well stocked. And then tomorrow, Hogwarts. Oh, and I need to remember to bring a little something for Rose; she's probably going stir-crazy in the Hospital Wing.
He left the study and headed for the kitchen, but he never made it there. He stopped, quite surprised, in the dining room, where he found the table lavishly set for one. Brillig and Ayesha stood hopefully by the table; both were now wearing identical crimson livery.
"Um, so," he said cautiously, "what's all this…?"
"It is Mister Harry's first night in his new home!" exclaimed Brillig. "And we are helping him celebrate! Brillig and Ayesha have prepared a wonderful feast for Mister Harry, for Brillig knows how Mister Harry enjoys food…!"
"And this is giving Ayesha a chance to be of use," Ayesha put it hurriedly, "by serving Mister Harry dinner, for she has waited on masters and knows how it is properly done…"
"But we are also remembering that Mister Harry wants Ayesha to be a guest, and not to be working," rejoined Brillig, more loudly, "so Brillig is here to wait on Mister Harry…"
"Enough!" Harry raised a quelling hand, and the two elves instantly fell silent. They continued to watch him intently, expectantly, and Harry couldn't help sighing. So now they're competing for my attention? I have to choose which of them serves me dinner? And what do I do with the one who's not waiting on me…?
He sighed again, scratched his nose, and stalled for time to think by pretending to inspect the table layout. Three forks, two knives, one soup spoon; soup bowl on the plate, plus a separate bread plate; water and wine glasses. My goodness, how fancy a meal did these two prepare, just for me?
Just for me… hmmm…
"Something bothers me about how this table's set," he said quietly.
Immediately, Brillig and Ayesha were on either side; Brillig was all but wringing her hands, and Ayesha couldn't help bouncing from one foot to the other in her anxiety. "Oh, we is not doing it right? Mister Harry is displeased with us…?"
"Nothing that can't be quickly and easily fixed," Harry hastened to assure them.
"Yes, yes!" they chorused eagerly. "Tell us what we must be doing!"
"Well," said Harry, trying to be natural, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "we need two more settings, just like this one, here and here." And he gestured to either side of the setting on the table.
Ayesha looked puzzled, then excited. "Mister Harry is expecting company to arrive?"
"No," Harry smiled, and waited to see if either elf would pick it up. It took a few moments…
Brillig's head swung abruptly to stare at Harry's face, her mouth agape, her eyes wide. "You… you cannot mean… oh, Mister Harry must be joking!"
"Ask Canby if I'd joke about something like this," Harry said, now perfectly serious. "Or ask Dobby."
Her anxiety now beginning to tinge with fear, Brillig looked down at the table setting, back up to Harry, across to Ayesha, back to the table… growing more frantic by the second. Though Ayesha could tell that the other elf was upset, she still hadn't cottoned to the reason.
Again, Harry gestured to either side of the place set for him at the table, and tried for a lighter, more helpful mood. "We'll bring the food out from the kitchen and put it here between us," he suggested, "and each of us can serve ourselves…"
Horrified, Ayesha jumped backward as though she'd been bitten. Ah. She's sussed it out. Right then, time to play the sympathy card.
"I spent a lot of years eating alone, you know," Harry reminded Brillig, "when I was in exile from the wizarding world. Honestly, you'd be doing me a big favor if you'd join me tonight…" He let the sentence hang, open-ended.
Brillig swallowed nervously. Neither elf said anything; neither elf made any motion. After a moment, Harry tapped the empty tabletop on either side of his place setting, and smiled as encouragingly as he knew how.
Whether it was to help Harry in his 'hour of need', or whether it was due to the ingrained obedience of house-elves, Harry never quite knew. He only knew that, within seconds, two more place settings had materialized on the table, and Ayesha and Brillig were diligently bringing out dish after dish of prepared food: an eclectic mix of solid British fare and Middle Eastern cuisine.
He noted with some amusement that neither Brillig nor Ayesha would sit down before he did, but he decided not to make an issue of it. It was enough that they were actually sitting at the same table, dining together. Like equals, Harry thought in satisfaction. If this doesn't get the lesson across, I don't know what will.
"So what are we eating tonight?" he began, feigning ignorance to draw the elves out of their nervousness and into conversation. "This looks like, mm, lamb? And is that cumin I smell…?"
*
"Yes, the thirdies I tutor are having such a hard time with Dark creatures," said Alice Shrewsbury, in a voice just loud enough for Tori to overhear but not so loud as to make Alice's intent too obvious. "You know, identifying them from a distance."
"Really?" responded Joanie Vincent, who like Alice was from Ravenclaw. "What, are they overthinking things again?"
It was Wednesday morning, and the fourth-years' Defense Against the Dark Arts class was supposed to have begun already, but Professor Longbottom had yet to open the classroom door. All the students were standing out in the corridor, waiting for the Professor. There was some milling about, but in general, the students tended to congregate along House lines… with notable exceptions. Such as the cluster of girls centered around Alice Shrewsbury.
Or such as Tori Weasley, standing by herself.
Something odd had happened over the summer holidays. Back when she and her classmates were all first-years together, she'd happily hung out with most of them, boys and girls alike… but that was three years ago. Now a lot of the boys seemed to be keeping their distance, and had trouble talking to her - though they certainly had no trouble looking at her. Well, Mum had explained about that: they couldn't help being that way, being boys, any more than she could help being an attractive girl (who kept her Veela powers very firmly under control, thank you). And anyway, Ted's qualities more than made up for her male classmates' awkwardness.
But Tori hadn't expected so many of her female classmates to likewise be keeping their distance - not all of them, thank Merlin, but a good fraction. And the glances they shot her way were far less appreciative.
Still, none of the girls had seemed outright antagonistic - except Alice's little clique, who'd been taking pot-shots at her since term began. Tori wouldn't let them see how much those shots hurt - she wouldn't give them the satisfaction - instead, she ignored them with dignity.
But it didn't seem to be helping.
"Evidently so," continued Shrewsbury. "You'd think they'd be able to see that any creature that can hurt you, or make you hurt yourself, is a Dark creature. It seems so obvious. Hinkypunks? Lure travelers into the bogs to drown - Dark creatures. Basilisks? Poisonous and petrifying - Dark creatures. It's obvious."
"Dementors? Suck out your souls," offered Vincent. It was becoming almost a game between her and Shrewsbury, alternating suggestions.
"Werewolves? Tear you limb from limb, if they don't make you another werewolf."
"Veela? Sap men's wills."
"Vampires? They can enthrall you and drink your blood. They're Dark two ways."
"Ooh, that's a good one, Joanie. I can't think of any other Dark creature that can hurt you and make you hurt yourself. I suppose you could breed two Dark creatures together. What d'you think, Victoire? Breed a Veela and a werewolf? Would that make a double Dark creature?"
Stung into rage, Tori lost all semblance of dignified composure. She spun in place to hurl invective at the smirking Ravenclaws. Before she could say a word, however, a new voice broke in.
"Okay, first of all, five points from Ravenclaw. Second of all, didn't you learn anything about Dark creatures last year, you lot? Veela aren't Dark creatures, and Miss Weasley's father cannot be a werewolf. And third, five more points from Ravenclaw. Now inside, everyone. Let's get started." The classroom door was open now, but it wasn't Professor Longbottom standing there, waiting for them to enter. None of her classmates yet recognized him, but Tori did: it was Harry Potter.
She wanted to burst into song, but she settled for a sly, secret smile. This was going to be good.
"Who…?" began someone in the crowd.
"Mr. Longbottom had business away from Hogwarts today. I'll be teaching in his place. Now - inside."
Harry said nothing further until the class had, with some muttering, taken their seats. He called roll, noting particularly when Shrewsbury and Vincent timidly answered to their names. Once that was done, he stood in front of the classroom and addressed Alice Shrewsbury. "You did cover Dark creatures in your third year, right? Well, if you'd been paying attention, you'd know that werewolves can't have children." His eyes snapped to Joanie Vincent. "Twelve inches of parchment, from each of you, detailing the reasons why. Due Friday, and don't think I won't let Mr. Longbottom know to expect it."
He sighed and added, more softly, "Plus, I should know better than anyone that Bill Weasley's not a werewolf. After all, I was nearby when he was attacked by Fenrir Greyback."
One of the other students began to protest. "But… but that's ridiculous! You'd have been a baby when that happened! You may be in Professor Longbottom's NEWT classes, but that doesn't mean you can teach us!"
"Ah, well, I'm afraid you're wrong on several counts, Mr. Berkeley. I was older than you when Bill Weasley was hurt. And I can indeed teach you - want to see my staff badge? And I'm not in any of Mr. Longbottom's classes, NEWT or otherwise. He's not my teacher - in fact, once upon a time, I taught him."
Berkeley blinked several times, then his jaw dropped and his face went bloodless. "You… y-you're Ha… H-H-Har…"
"Harry," Harry helped him say, and added, "Potter. That would be me, yes. Any further comments from anyone?" His eyes swept across a classroom that had fallen suddenly, wholly, and absolutely silent. Tori was tempted, very tempted, to make some cricket chirps under her breath (she could always blame Ted's influence on her), but decided not to push her luck.
*
The arrival of a Hogwarts owl on Wednesday afternoon had sparked near-frenzy in the office of the Minister of Magic. Upon reading the message, Minister Granger looked distraught, almost tearful: she cancelled her appointments for the rest of the day, sent a quick message to Ron Weasley, and announced that she had to go to Hogwarts immediately. The office rumor mill quickly deduced that the health issues with the Minister's daughter had taken an abrupt turn for the worse.
"Trust me, I understand completely," opined Agnes Mayfair, who worked in Floo Authority, and whose opinion seemed to be the consensus among the Ministry staffers. "If one of my daughters had fallen badly ill when they were at Hogwarts, I'd have been up there like a shot. Any caring parent would."
"Mm, I can only imagine," Zabini sympathized.
*
Ted gave the letter one last dubious read before tucking it in his pocket and sending the owl on its way. Rather an odd letter, really, not at all what he was expecting… and definitely something he wanted to discuss with Harry.
The news that Harry Potter was substituting for Professor Longbottom had spread through Hogwarts like wildfire. After the morning's Defense class with the fourth-years, there were only two other Defense classes, the second-years immediately after lunch and the sixth-year NEWT class; but Ted was willing to bet that both of those classes had been fully attended… with a few "auditors" as well.
Although he'd listened to the grapevine closely, Ted hadn't heard any speculation about Harry's Defense skills. No one was publicly challenging the claim that this seventeen-year-old, who'd missed his last year at Hogwarts and never taken NEWT's, was nonetheless eminently qualified to teach all Defense classes, all years. Either it was assumed that Harry had spent his year before the Battle of Hogwarts in hiding, studying and training (a logical assumption, really), or that he'd learned deep, arcane secrets of magic while trapped beyond the Veil. More likely, though, Ted figured, no one was even wondering about Harry's skills: he was simply Harry Potter, the Chosen One, and his prowess was accepted without question.
He glanced at his watch. Harry's last class for the day would be over shortly; if Ted could arrive at the classroom as the sixth-years were leaving, he'd have Harry's undivided attention until dinner. Nodding to himself, he left his dorm and headed down to the Gryffindor common room, intent on making his way to the Defense classroom with all due speed.
A plan that was interrupted almost before it had begun, upon discovering Tori Weasley waiting for him in the common room, a determined gleam in her blue eyes. "Off somewhere again?"
"Wanted to talk to Harry, soon as he's free," Ted shrugged casually.
The determined gleam faded, replaced by concern. "There's a new problem, isn't there? Is it something I can help with?"
"New problem?" he asked quizzically. There would be no shaking Tori off, obviously. He waved at her to precede him through the portrait hole, and waited until they were in the corridor before speaking again. "It's not a problem per se. I just got a letter from Gran, and I wanted to talk to Harry about it, that's all."
Tori fell into step beside him. "What's up with your Gran?"
He shrugged again. "Eh, she wants to how I'd feel about changing my name. It sounded a little off, really: I've never had any problem being Ted Lupin. But she seems to think there'd be some advantages to being Ted Black. Can't say I'm too keen on it, though."
"Ah." Tori didn't comment immediately; when she did, it was obliquely. "You do know, right, that you'll still be you no matter what your last name is?"
"Well… yeah, obviously." Ted raised an eyebrow at her, but she seemed reluctant to elaborate. Which, come to think of it, wasn't like Tori.
He was about to ask what she'd meant when their stroll was interrupted by a streak of silver. It flashed up the corridor, stopping just in front of Ted, and coalesced into the shape of a tiny stag. "I'm on my way to the Hospital Wing," it said in Harry's voice. "Meet me there."
The Patronus messenger dissolved into vapor, leaving Ted shaking his head. "Need to find out how they do that," he said to himself, then glanced at Tori. "Well, I did want to talk to Harry, so if you'll excuse me…"
"Like hell," she retorted sharply, and linked her arm in his. "This is about Rose again, isn't it? Fine, you can tell me what's going on as we walk."
"What do you mean, 'again'?" he said quickly. "Didn't you hear that Rosie's sick - she spent last night in the Hospital Wing. Harry must be visiting her…"
"Please, Ted. Despite appearances, I'm not a dumb blonde. Haven't you figured that out yet?" With her free hand, she began to tick off points. "Rose gets a book from a mysterious admirer. You take it away from her before she can read it. Next day you give her a different copy of the book - and I know it wasn't the same book she received, because you left the price tags on, twit."
Damn! Ted would not allow a groan to escape his lips, but it took an effort.
"And the very same day," Tori pressed, "Professor Longbottom calls you into his office - about Quidditch. Quidditch? He's never been that big a Quidditch fan."
She fixed him with an iron glare and concluded, "And ever since, Rose has getting sicker and sicker. No appetite on Sunday, a little out-of-it on Monday, clumsy and weak enough for the Hospital Wing by Tuesday. Ted, she's my cousin! You have to tell me! What's going on?"
"Well, that's a fair question," said Harry's voice from behind them. He had come up silently and was now giving Ted a look of commiseration. "Blame me for Ted not telling you anything, Tori. It wasn't because he doesn't trust you, but because I trust him." He gave the girl a brief smile and added, "But I suppose, having enlisted you once, we can enlist you again. Come." He took the lead and walked purposefully down the corridor, with Ted and Tori trailing.
Ted and Tori were startled, upon arriving at the Hospital Wing, to see an Auror standing sentry at the door. She silently nodded to Harry and allowed them inside, where they were met by Madam Pomfrey. "I'm glad you're hear, Mr. Potter," she said, taking Harry by the elbow, with a curious glance at Ted and Tori. "The Minister arrived a few minutes ago, but it didn't seem to rouse Miss Weasley…"
"Rouse?" exclaimed Tori.
"Miss Weasley fell into a coma a couple of hours ago," Pomfrey told her. "There seems to be little I can do, and the Minister wanted to be here, just in case she awoke one last time before…" Her voice died away.
Tori's eyes grew wide. Slowly, she shook her head, while her lips formed a silent No.
"I've put them in the isolation ward," Pomfrey concluded. "Not knowing what's caused this, I thought it best." She steered them through the ward, where a couple of students were recovering from injuries, to the far end of the room. Pomfrey's office door was there; another door stood closed next to it. She knocked twice at the second door, waited a beat, then opened the door.
Rose was lying motionless in a hospital bed, her eyes closed. Hermione was seated by the bed, holding her daughter's hand, warily watching to see who would come through the door. On seeing Rose's inert form, Tori gave a little involuntary cry of pain.
And on hearing her cry, Rose opened one eye in alarm. "Don't freak, Tori, it's okay," she stage-whispered.
"Sshh!" hissed Hermione.
"Yeah, Rosie, you're supposed to be on your death bed," Harry reproved. "We could have been anyone, after all." He closed the door behind them and added, "Fortunately, we're all in this conspiracy together. And that includes Tori now, Hermione - she takes after you far too well, I'm afraid. Deduced a plot on remarkably scant clues, she did."
Tori had remained frozen in place, jaw dropped and her eyes pinned on Rose. Everyone in the room noticed when those eyes began to smoulder. "Death bed, is it?" she said in a darkly ominous voice. "How utterly appropriate." She transferred her glare to Ted and continued, "And you're next on my list, goob! Unless you tell me everything, right now, I swear I will personally shove ashwinder eggs up your nose and a salamander up your arse until they meet!"
Gathering permission from Harry with a pleading look, Ted quickly gave Tori an account of bringing the book to Harry and Professor Longbottom - accurate, as far as it went, but distinctly giving the impression that Harry had discovered the threat, with his sensitivity to magic. "Since Rose looked to be the target," Ted finished, "Harry asked your Aunt Hermione to try to analyze what potions were used. She'd have to know about this, anyway, since Rose was involved… and the fewer people in the know, the better. And she says it's some kind of binary poison…"
"Two synergistic potions, absorbed through the skin," Hermione took up the tale. "Neither potion alone is all that dangerous - which is how the book could get into Hogwarts without triggering any alarms - but taken together, they become an incredibly potent nerve toxin. A single exposure leads to dizziness, sleep, coma, and death, all within a few days."
"You mean… Rose? All this week, you've been… faking your death?" Tori demanded. "Merlin, Harry, it sounds like something you'd do! Oh, wait, that's right…"
"We all came up with it together," Hermione intervened drily.
"Yeah," agreed Ted, equally dry. "You might say Rose is our… um, tethered kid."
Rose blew a raspberry at Ted and turned smugly back to Tori. "Hey, I was good enough to fool you, Lady Sherlock," she said. "Mum and Harry explained things, and they asked me if I was willing to help, and I said yes. But it's been pretty boring, mostly. Except for a couple of times when I had to - gakk!" She fell back dramatically onto her pillow, eyes closed and her tongue lolling from one side of her mouth.
"More to the point," continued Hermione, "if the poisoned book wasn't seen to do its job, whoever sent it might send something else, something more stealthy - and more lethal. And we might not be lucky enough to catch the next trap in time."
"Plus, while there may be some sinister people who'd want Hermione dead," Harry put in, "we couldn't quite see why anyone would want Rose dead." He stepped to the bed, where Rose was still overacting her death scene, and pinched the girl's nostrils shut, adding, "Of course, they don't know her as well as we do." Rose gulped air, opened her eyes to glare at Harry reproachfully, and batted his hand away. "We were waiting to see if something more would happen," Harry concluded. "Poppy, I gather something has?"
The matron nodded and started to hand Hermione an envelope, sealed and addressed to Madam Poppy Pomfrey. "It arrived just before you did. I've left it undisturbed."
Hermione made a motion towards Harry, and Pomfrey gave the envelope to him instead. Everyone watched in fascination as Harry shifted to what Ted had privately nicknamed his 'magic vision': suppressing the normal use of his eyes, instead calling up a visual interpretation of the eddies and flows of ambient magic.
"No charms or spells on the parchment," Harry reported after a moment, "but there is a concentration of strong potion. Um, I don't recognize it… but it doesn't appear to be a hazard." Delicately, he opened the envelope and drew out a sheet of parchment, folded around a small glass ampule. The ampule contained a few drops of oily liquid, pale gold in color.
He handed the ampule to Hermione while he read aloud from the parchment. "To Madam Poppy Pomfrey: the contents of the phial will revive Rose Weasley. You must use the entire contents; administer orally. She will…" He looked up, caught Hermione's eye, and read the next lines with heavy significance. "She will require a dose like this one every five days henceforth to avoid a relapse. Missing even a single dose would have severe consequences. We will supply the next dose when it is needed. Please tell Miss Weasley's mother that we will be in touch."
"'Be in touch?' They intended to poison Rose… and then promise the antidote? Conditional on my 'good behavior', no doubt!" Hermione pressed her lips together in disgust. "Who would do such a thing?" She held the ampule to the light, examining its contents with one eye narrowed.
"We'll know that when we hear what they want," said Harry thoughtfully. "Here, Ted… Tori, Rose… do you recognize this handwriting?" He passed the note directly to Ted, who held it very close to his face while scrutinizing the writing.
"I can't tell if it's the same as the address on the book's wrapping," Ted said, "but it does look like a Dictation Quill writing, so that probably doesn't matter." He offered the note to Tori, who snatched it from his hand and performed Specialis Revelio on it.
"Well, Miss Weasley-Minor, I daresay this is the point where I announce your miraculous recovery," said Madam Pomfrey briskly.
"Keep her one more night," instructed Hermione, "since we don't know how fast this antidote is supposed to act. And it'll give me a chance to analyze the stuff." She bit her lower lip in thought. "Notice that they supplied barely enough to do the job… so there wouldn't be any extra to study, and possibly synthesize. Though if it's like the potions on the book…!" She broke off and shook her head.
"What about the potions on the book?" Rose prompted.
"They're simply not possible." Hermione met Pomfrey's gaze. "I don't claim to be an expert in Potions, but…"
Harry, Ted and Tori gave simultaneous snorts of disbelief; the unison effect made Hermione redden and furiously scowl at them before going on. "BUT I would've said that tarantula blood and runescap spores were fundamentally immiscible - not to mention the fractionation of the iocaine!" She gestured with the ampule. "I've no doubt I'll find something of the same here. Somehow, someone has found a way to do what all the textbooks say can't be done."
"So we're looking for… what?" wondered Tori. "A genius Potions master researcher - who doesn't publish?"
"Yeah. Doesn't sound very plausible, does it?" Harry responded lightly. His eyes met Hermione's, and it was obvious they'd had the same thought… and that they weren't ready to share it. Ted let it slide for the moment, trusting he could ask Harry about it later, when they were alone.
"In any case," Pomfrey said, refusing to be diverted, "if you wish to continue with your bit of dramatic interpretation, you should leave now. Miss Weasley is 'still too ill to receive visitors'."
Pomfrey, like McGonagall, had found that being at Hogwarts for so long had given her an advantage over much of the wizarding population: generations of students had been conditioned to obey her without argument when she spoke in a certain way. As she was speaking now.
Accordingly, Rose's visitors shuffled towards the door, with Tori promising to visit again before she was released (and with Harry slipping a small book on the nightstand next to her bed, causing Rose to blush and mumble thanks). Once out of the Hospital Wing, Hermione gave Harry a discreetly chaste kiss on the cheek and followed her Auror escort down the hallway to the main doors of Hogwarts. She was mildly surprised when Tori fell into step beside her.
"So, do you think Rose…" Tori began, but immediately fell silent when Hermione gave a quick shake of her head and tapped her ear in warning.
"It's all up to Madam Pomfrey now," Hermione said, her voice a study in resignation. Tori understood: the best way to keep a secret was simply not to discuss it, even in hints, even when you thought you were alone.
"I need to get back to the Ministry, Victoire," Hermione continued. "What's on your mind?"
"Just… some girls said some things today," Tori said. She seemed unsure of her ground, then began again. "Aunt Hermione, my dad… he really isn't a werewolf, right? I mean, Mum and I know he gets cranky at the full moon, and Mum always serves his meat rare…"
"If he were a werewolf, I promise you'd know," said Hermione firmly. "I've seen a werewolf transform, up close, and it's not something they can possibly hide… or that you're likely to forget. It's… frightening… on an almost visceral level." She shivered, then smiled reassuringly. "Yes, the werewolf curse itself is a contagion, and your father has a mild - very mild - case of it. But he's not a werewolf."
Tori nodded. "Plus, werewolves are sterile, so he couldn't have had me."
"He couldn't have had you, that's true - but werewolves aren't sterile. They simply can't have children."
When it became clear that Tori didn't understand, Hermione gave in to her natural tendency to lecture. "It's easy to equate the werewolf curse with, say, an infectious disease, like a virus. But it's not. It's a curse, it's a form of magic, and therefore its power depends, among other things, on intent. Most werewolves, for all but one day a month, want nothing to do with it - it's only on the full moon that they have no choice, and it's only then that a werewolf's bite spreads the curse, and makes the victim a werewolf in turn. But Fenrir Greyback…"
"He's the one who infected Dad."
"Yes, him. Fenrir Greyback embraced the curse. He enjoyed the terror it created, the power it gave him. And so he could infect your father even in human form, when the moon wasn't full. Passion, a craving for violence, a need to dominate: all of these will strengthen the werewolf curse."
Hermione paused and looked sidelong at her niece. "Now let's consider sex."
Tori immediately choked and started coughing so hard that their Auror escort had to stop and look back at them, waiting until they were ready to continue walking.
"I'm proceeding on the assumption that you've heard about sex but never experienced it," said Hermione severely. "If my assumption is wrong, I forbid you to disabuse me of it."
Tori gave her aunt a bitter, resentful look for making her uncomfortable. That was supposed to be her job.
"Studies have shown that men, even the gentlest and most loving of men, tend to lose themselves at the moment of climax," Hermione continued in a deliberately clinical voice. "Measurements of brain activity show decreases in the cerebral cortex and an increase in the limbic area - the more primitive part of the brain, you understand, the part we inherited from our primate ancestors. This does not mean that all men become violent during sex!" she added hastily, seeing Tori's horrified expression. "But it does mean that they tend to… shall we say, embrace their animal side."
She waited a second, then concluded, "Which, for a werewolf, has unfortunate consequences, as we've seen."
Tori knitted her brows as she digested the new information. "So you're saying that a man - still in human form, no full moon - can still spread the curse, during sex? Infecting his partner…?"
"You're drawing too close an analogy with viruses again," Hermione admonished. "Yes, the werewolf curse can be transmitted at the moment of sexual climax. But not transmitted to his partner, no. If conception occurs, the curse is transmitted to the fetus."
"And then the baby's a werewolf?" Tori asked incredulously.
"Possibly, if it were born. But they're never born - they never come to term. Once the mother begins gestating, the next full moon turns her fetus into a wolf fetus. Human mother, wolf fetus - tissue rejection. The mother suffers a miscarriage." Hermione sighed. "And that, dear, is why werewolves can't have children. I rather imagine the point isn't emphasized in your class discussions on werewolves. It certainly wasn't in my third year - even though it's accepted knowledge in our world."
Tori steeled herself to come to the point - the point that had bothered her ever since Defense class, the point for which she'd started the conversation. "Aunt Hermione - wasn't Ted's father a werewolf?"
Hermione fixed Tori with a stony stare, and said nothing for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice held an unmistakable note of warning. "Remus Lupin was a werewolf."
"I see." Tori swallowed, her suspicions confirmed, and heeded the warning. "Well, all right then. It…it doesn't change anything about Ted."
"No," Hermione said, giving Tori a pleased smile, "you're quite correct, it doesn't."
*
Meanwhile, Ted and Harry were finishing the most urgent item on what both recognized was a list of topics to be discussed in this rare moment of privacy. "You're certain, Ted?" Harry pressed.
"Absolutely. Whoever sent the book is the same person who sent that note with the antidote. Well-handled, both of them." Ted grimaced. "No idea exactly who, of course."
"Of course." Harry laid a hand on Ted's shoulder. "We'll let everyone think that I'm the one who discovered this… just like the poison on the book. No one should question it. But Ted… fair warning, Ted. If any of this comes to trial…"
Ted's response was barely audible. "We'll tell the truth."
"Right, then." Harry gave Ted's shoulder a squeeze, conveying equal parts sympathy and pride, then he dropped his hand. "So. You were coming down to see me, I think, before my Patronus intercepted you?"
"Yeah, and you've got to show me how to do that," Ted responded, somewhat more lively, as he retrieved Gran's letter from his pocket. "But anyway, I wrote to Gran about the best way for me to make a will… like we talked about, a couple of weeks ago. She wrote back today." He handed the letter to Harry and waited for him to read it.
When Harry was done, he refolded the parchment and returned it to Ted. "Add the Black surname to your own? Ted Black-Lupin?"
"You have to understand Gran. What's she'd really like is for me to change my name to Ted Black, but Black-Lupin will do. Apparently, if I make a will as Ted Lupin, and then change my name - add Black to it, whatever - then I have to make my will all over again. I don't see why, but it probably has something to do with the House of Black."
"That might explain why you'd want to change your name before making your will - if you'd planned to change your name - but it doesn't explain why she thinks you should be a Black at all."
Ted shrugged carelessly. "I am a Black, Gran's always said so. It's not like I'm the last of the Blacks, though…"
"Nnno," mused Harry slowly, thinking it through. "No, but you may be the only Black in a position to claim Headship of the House of Black. I don't know if that's a purely family matter, or if the Wizengamot has to be involved, but either way, it'd be more acceptable if Black were part of your name." He looked up at Ted and added, "I'm a little out of my element here. It's not like there's a House of Potter or anything."
"So… do you think I should?"
"What I think is irrelevant. This has to be your decision, Ted. Although… if you do decide to do it, I'd feel happier if you kept the Lupin part of your name as well." Harry smiled ruefully. "I feel like I owe it to Remus to try to persuade you to that."
Ted hesitated. "D'you really think this is about Headship of the House? I wish Gran would say why she thinks this is important…"
"Hmm, tell you what," suggested Harry. "There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon, isn't there? Have your Gran meet with you at the Three Broomsticks - talk about it face to face. Maybe the reason isn't something she feels comfortable putting on parchment." As Ted nodded his approval of the idea, Harry added, "Even if it's only to make your Gran happy, a name change isn't that important. You'll still be you."
Ted gave Harry an odd look. "Funny. That's almost exactly what Tori said."
"Yeah, well, Tori's smart," Harry smiled. Ted grinned, gave a jaunty wave, and turned to return to Gryffindor Tower.
"You have to tell her, Ted," Harry said softly, all levity gone.
Ted froze in place for a moment, waiting to see if Harry would continue. When nothing more seemed forthcoming, Ted continued walking, not looking back at Harry nor acknowledging his words by any sign.