A/N: Updating very quickly now. Was actually planning to finish this story before the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, did not expect that it might be so much before. But that's okay, I was actually intending this story to be a trilogy, which would account for a number of things that I'd introduced and not used. Problem with that of course, is that I've also been intending to start working on my original novel again so... well, yeah. *crosses fingers so that might be able to do both*
Disclaimer: After much consideration and mental deliberation, have come to the conclusion that I do not wish to own this stuff. Belongs to JK Rowling and company and she can keep it, she worked damned hard for it and she deserves every word.
*****
Chapter Sixteen
Not caring that the OGB, Professor McGonagall, Professor Bones and the Minister for Magic were looking on, nor that there were also a number of Aurors, Connor and the portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses present, when my parents arrived my father took five great strides over to where I was sitting with Connor on a sofa beside the window and gathered me into his arms. He said nothing, for I was sure that he couldn't, all he cared for anyway was that I was there, alive and real in his arms, and not lying dead, cold and wet on a bed in the Infirmary. Beside that words were inconsequential.
I was all cried out and he couldn't, but Mum was not. And as soon as he released me, she took over, pressing my head to her chest and resting her chin against my hair and cried into it, "Oh Lillie, oh my precious baby... oh Lillie...."
She could say nothing more than that and after a while fell as silent as Dad and contented herself with holding me and rubbing my back. I held back just as tightly, comforted by the feel of her soft body and the faint smell of the pumpkin pie she'd had for lunch.
Eventually though, they both let up and allowed me to sit again on the sofa while kneeling before me, both grasping my hands, and Dad asked, "Are you alright? Did it touch you; did it ever get close to you?"
I shook my head and admitted timidly, "I was actually trying to get down to it.... S-some-there were some Seventh Years having a class nearby and when they heard the commotion they went down to the lake to try to hold it off. What they were doing wasn't working though and since I remembered that you have to spill the water from its head, I was trying to tell them." At my mother's scandalised look, I added hastily, "But Rigel held me back-he'd been having class in the greenhouses too-when he saw me running he stopped me.... It was stupid, I know.... They're Seventh Years; of course they know how to stop a Kappa...."
Dad hushed me, shaking his head and brushing my hair back from my face, "No, Lillie, no... You were trying to help...."
That did nothing to improve my mood. "When you say it like that it sounds really stupid...."
Mum joined him in a headshake, her eyes sparkling earnestly, and replied, "You were trying to help, you didn't know it was coming for you... we'd told you that you were safe."
From behind us someone coughed, and my parents both jerked round, remembering the others were there. And once Dad recognised Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister for Magic, he stood and said bitterly, "Do you know that Rugova was remarkably surprised to hear that he'd been attacking my family? As a matter of fact he didn't even know I was married, and the more that we interrogated him the more I realised that he'd spent much of the last few years believing I was still a teenaged boy. Is there something I should know?"
The Minister arched a rust-coloured eyebrow, "What ever gave you the idea that I know more about this incident than you do? You're Harry Potter, the `Man-Who-Triumphed', you defeated their beloved Dark Lord, and because of that you've made innumerable enemies in the war. It appears that one of them has decided to avenge him and unfortunately for your family he has the power and the means to succeed."
"The war ended sixteen years ago, and you all claimed that you'd rounded up all of those we hadn't captured or killed for you," said Dad, slowly. "This suggests otherwise."
"Well, yes, but as I understand it there are a number from our side whom we haven't found either," replied the Minister. "There was a war going on. Very messy things, wars.... You can lose both friends and foes in the heat of it...."
My mother had taken a seat beside me on the chair, and as we shifted to give her room, Connor surreptitiously took hold of my hand and squeezed it gently. Not noticing this, and attempting to thwart the outburst from Dad that was surely coming, Mum replied mildly, "That's true, but it is apparent now that there is someone out there that you missed, and you did tell us explicitly that you had captured everyone. You can understand our being upset...?"
The Minister now looked as if he was desperately trying to keep control of his emotions. His voice was strained as he replied, "Mrs Potter, this may just be some random person that you crossed paths with during the war. And, if I recall correctly, Draco Malfoy, though purportedly killed by Aurors, his body has never been found. Fenrir Greyback is still tied up in the courts over his crimes, one Marcus Flint has managed to elude capture to this day, and Peter Pettigrew...."
He allowed his voice to trail off as my father's jaw clenched visibly, but Dad spoke emotionlessly as he replied, "Malfoy is most likely dead, he had taken Ginny Weasley into a dark cavern that had many passageways and was open to flooding with the tides, and Kingsley Shacklebolt is pretty sure that he killed him. Flint wouldn't dare attack me, he was always a weak Death Eater and is probably hiding from his old cohorts as it is, for, if I'm not mistaken, he betrayed them like Malfoy. Fenrir Greyback would actually be a concern if I didn't know about his preference for children-which Magnolia is not-and that he has more of a motive to go after Remus Lupin's son than my daughter. As for Peter Pettigrew, I seriously doubt that he'd be foolish enough to show his face. He's a wanted man throughout much of Britain and the Continent, he even kept out of this `Lady Voldemort's War' we were just through."
"Then we're back to that unknown who has a personal grudge," said the Minister. "I suggest you make a list of people known to have been Death Eaters, associated with them or supported their cause and track them all down. It may take a few days but as it is your daughter's life, I will also ensure that you have the full services of the Auror Department at your disposal... giving way to prior duties and open cases, of course."
Dad gave no response either way and then Connor spoke up, causing my mother to look over at him and notice our joined hands with a smile. It fell away though, as she furrowed her brow when he said, "Fenrir Greyback's not dead?"
It was as if they hadn't even noticed he was there, the way everyone suddenly turned to look at Connor in varying degrees of surprise. But when they'd all entered the office he and I had been sitting together while he tried to comfort me, my arms wrapped firmly round his waist and he whispering words of comfort in my ear. Of course, at the time they had been too busy ignoring me, choosing to comment on the bleak weather we'd soon be having with the fog rolling in than facing the reality of their continued failure to protect me. Now though, the Minister looked over to him and asked, "Who are you?"
"Connor Lupin," he replied, standing up still holding my hand. "Fenrir Greyback is still alive?"
It was an innocent question that promptly discomfited almost every person present, save the OGB and the Minister, who, after studying him for a moment, asked, "Your father is that werewolf... Remus Lupin... is he not? (His brow furrowed as he looked him over again, for Connor did not respond.) Then that makes you Auror Nymphadora Tonks' son as well.... What a fine-looking young man you are becoming."
He suddenly left his seat and walked over to us, and those who were not sitting as well took care to step out of his way, even, amazingly, Dad. This wasn't something too difficult to get though, for the Minister was a tall, imposing man with a lion-like mane of red hair and beard and a penetrating yellow gaze that surely instilled fear in the hearts of many. But Connor did not move, nervous as he was under the attention, squeezing my hand so tightly that it was beginning to hurt. I shook our joined hands to get him to loosen his grip, Dad's eyes flickered to the movement a moment, and then he impassively looked back up at the Minister approaching Connor. The Minister stopped just before him and asked, "There's a rumour going around that you're a Metamorphagus too...?"
Connor wrinkled his nose and after a moment his hair turned Weasley-fiery red and his eyes icy grey so that it was as if he'd become Rigel's younger brother. Then he shifted back to himself and the Minister gave him a smile that did not quite reach his eyes and asked, "What year are you in?"
"Fourth," he replied.
"Then you should be fourteen or fifteen.... Good in classes?"
Unexpectedly, it was the OGB who replied, "He excels in Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Ancient Runes and Herbology."
The Minister gave a look of approval now, "When you're choosing subjects for your Sixth Year, remember Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration (another smile) and Herbology. The Auror Department needs more like you. Work on that Transfiguration grade though, I would think that the subject you would discover easiest."
What? Had someone forgotten that they'd come here to discuss an attack on me and not for recruiting purposes?
But instead of gratitude, or some meaningless reply, Connor said, "What about my father? He needs a job too, and he's pretty good at teaching. Don't you have a position for him as well? I mean he was promised one...."
The Minister stared him directly in the eyes for a moment, clearly sizing him up, and then said, "He's fifty-four is he not? Well, as you should understand, his age is a problem when it comes to finding a suitable position for him."
It was rather diplomatic of him, but I couldn't help myself, "Professor Dumbledore was over a hundred and Headmaster of Hogwarts, and everyone said that he didn't need any help in the Department of Mysteries against Voldemort. You mean the fact that Uncle Lupin's a werewolf is a problem."
The Minister looked down at me, his smiles for Connor falling away in an instant as he commented, "Like your father, you are...." There was nothing in that statement that suggested a compliment, and I did not take it as one, and then he admitted, "Yes, and his being a werewolf is a problem. Not with me, of course, I have seen what he can do, what he is... but there are many others who haven't. They will hear of his condition and refuse to associate with him, and then some of them have lost family members to werewolves during the war. They may not be so accommodating."
"Then I don't want your job," said Connor. "For I am a werewolf's son, he could bite me."
"He wouldn't!" said my mother, sharply, and I thought, unnecessarily. "And don't you dare say such a thing, he's always worried that he could hurt you one day. That's not something to make light about Connor Lupin."
Connor's face flushed red but he looked at the Minister defiantly. The Minister smiled again, again one that did not reach his eyes, and said, "I say that I'll see what I can do, a person with your talents should not be allowed to waste them... but don't hold out hope." Then he turned to me and added, "And nor should someone of your potential power."
"I'm not better than anyone else," I replied.
"I believe there are many who would disagree with you. Attempted drowning becomes a Dementor, cursed letter and a Kappa, and I've heard that you almost conjured a Patronus during the Dementor attack. Not your father, but the fact that you managed to produce anything at all, that you seem to have the presence of mind to think as you act to defend yourself... some would have been flustered and fallen. Auror, Unspeakable or Healer, I expect great things from you, and you already possess many of the qualities we desire of Aurors. Just ask your father... or not, he didn't necessarily go through the ordinary channels," he said.
"I like the position, Minister for Magic, better. More ground to realise my true potential," I replied, boldly. That statement about my father sounded like an insult and no one was just going to insult my father in front of me, not even the Minister for Magic.
The smile he gave then looked put on, "I keep saying it, and yet it is true: you are just like your father. I wish you well, Miss Potter." He then straightened, nodded to Connor, and turned to the Aurors, some of who I recognised now as colleagues of Dad's, and said, "What are you all still doing here, didn't you hear what I said? Get moving on those lists! And no one speak to the press! If I so much as read the words "reliable sources" you'll be at desks for the rest of your lives."
They immediately hurried out of the office, with him behind them, leaving me, my parents, the teachers, Headmistress, portraits and Connor. And the door had barely closed behind them before Professor Dumbledore's portrait spoke up, "Is the young Mr Lupin still present?"
Connor looked over to the portrait, surprised at being addressed and replied, "Y-yes sir... I'm here."
Professor Dumbledore looked him over for a moment and then said, "My, he does look a lot like Remus, though I must add I see a touch of Nymphadora. But I wonder if as mischievous...? It's a trend nowadays, I've noticed, to take after one's parents. Where are the days when one lived to defy them...?" He took a moment to embrace his nostalgia, then said, "Do not worry for Fenrir Greyback, he cannot harm you."
Connor nodded, "I know sir... but my father, he hurt...."
Professor Dumbledore smiled at him, "That was a long time ago; he cannot hurt your family from the confines of Azkaban prison. I believe saying that he cannot get to you in this school is now a moot point, having been disproved repeatedly in the past weeks. And on a few notable occasions during the war it was also shown that it is possible for one to escape the prison, but as I understand it, he is in no ordinary cell."
Connor nodded again and was silent. Then Dad spoke up, indicating the door through which the Minister and the Aurors had gone, "Well now that they're gone.... Professor McGonagall, can Susan take Connor back to his classes, please? I want us to talk, alone, now."
Both Professor Bones and Connor looked at him, surprised, but Professor McGonagall nodded and said, "Susan... please...?"
Professor Bones moved at once, leaving her seat before the Headmistress' desk and walking towards the door with Connor behind her. But Connor was still holding my hand and was pulling me after him when Dad said, "No, Lillie stays."
He glanced back at me with a half-smile, then released my hand at once and continued on after Professor Bones. Once we were sure that they were gone, Dad turned back to the others around the Headmistress' desk and asked, "Has Trelawney said anything, made any predictions, readings, anything that I should be worried about, or just know?"
The OGB said nothing and gave no visible reaction, and Professor McGonagall looked mildly confused, but Professor Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic smile, and said, "As far as we know Sybill Trelawney has made no prophecies in relation to your daughter. Severus here has been watching her closely per my request since these attacks started, and reports that she has made no mention of Magnolia or your family... or anyone or anything else save a few warnings under the influence of some cheap sherry. I was assured that they were useless and incoherent."
They didn't sound that way to me, but for some reason where I was rather quick to speak before I could not bring myself to now. Not to mention that something was niggling at the back of my mind, something about Professor Trelawney or what she'd said that I supposed I should remember but couldn't at the moment. I knew it was important and more than once I opened my mouth to voice it but it just slipped away. Then Dad saved me from having to though, when he said next, "That doesn't mean anything, does it? Nothing really, anyway. Someone else could have a prophecy out there with my daughter's name on it."
"Not likely, not without the Ministry having a copy once it concerns your daughter," said the OGB. "And card-read warnings by a notorious fraud barely register as worthy of record. After all, a warning is only useful if it is received and adhered to by the people they are intended for."
He gave me a pointed look then and I met it with a challenge in my own. I dared him to say something more, I wanted him to, and then I could tell everyone about his outburst in relation to Dad's Mum. Now I knew how Uncle Lupin had got him to relieve me of detention, and why he was so hands-on (as disturbing as that was) in his attempts at rescuing me. He was in love with my grandmother, the greasy bat. She'd never have him though, never, I was sure of it.
Dad exhaled heavily, slowly, then and turned back to me, looking me directly in the eyes. This broke my wordless battle of wills with the OGB, and it was to see the internal war raging behind Dad's eyes again and know the fear that came with it. The fear that he couldn't, despite all his attempts and conviction, actually protect me after all. It was a scary thing to see in one's father's eyes and especially after one has just nearly been killed.
I released Mum at once, and half-ran, half-stumbled over to him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist and resting my head against his chest so I could hear the oh-so-wonderful sound of his beating heart as I said, "I know that you won't let anything that you can stop happen to me, Dad. And nothing more is going to happen to me because we're going to find and stop this person. You said that I was going to have Dark Wizards but they're not Voldemort and since you got Voldemort you're going to get them. After Voldemort everyone else is just like flobberworms in a Potions classroom."
I heard him smile, to my relief, as his hands went round my back, and he replied, "Interesting analogy, my brave little witch.... And how do you propose we stop this person when I... when I don't even know where to begin to look? Contrary to popular belief I had a lot of dumb luck in my favour. I didn't know all the players either but there was a wealth of information about them, with this person all I have to go on is that they want revenge. No clues, no hints, no warnings... that's a pretty wide field, Lillie."
"That's easy," I replied though my mind raced to find a way that it could be. He was right; he had a lot of help and a narrowed field once you got down to looking at how he got involved in some of the more notorious incidents of his past. And then it came to me.
I pulled away from him and with a hopeful look to Mum, replied, "We do... we do what every great detective does, we-we start at the beginning. The Ministry wants to find the Death Eaters or others who might have a grudge... w-we're going to look at each attack, including the one on Uncle Lupin I think, and try to-try to-to come up with an idea of the person capable of do-use-executing each.... And then-then we're going to look at the Ministry's lists and see if we find a match. And-and-and if we do, then you go off and get them while I stay here and try to be safe."
I looked between both, anxious for their approval, hoping that I sounded smarter to them than I did to myself, and noted out of the periphery of my vision that the OGB looked mildly impressed, as did Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore's portrait. Mum was still thinking it over herself, but then she was smiling and Dad prised my arms from his midsection, where I'd still been holding onto him, and set me back a few paces to study me carefully. Then he replied, "My sweet Lillie, have I ever told you how much you're like your mother?"
Pleasantly surprised to find that I didn't sound like a complete idiot, I grinned. He continued, "This sounds like the plan for me, and as an Auror I should be ashamed of myself for not thinking of it first. I will concede, only this once that Professor Snape was right when he called me a dunderhead. Otherwise he's a git."
Behind him I saw the OGB scowl and Professor McGonagall did not bother to contain her amusement. Only my mother made a soft tut-tutting sound that suggested she did not approve of his undermining the authority of a teacher to his face.
But Dad was saying still, "And when we get him, whoever he is, he's going to have a lot of explaining to do for trying to take someone as smart and beautiful and stubborn as you away from me first. You saved my life, you know that... I never told you, but the promise of you was the one thing that gave me the will to fight when it came down to it in the end-"
"Hey, what about me? You know... the person partly responsible for the existence of your great promise?" interrupted Mum, in mock offence. "And that's pretty arrogant of you, Harry Potter, thinking I'd fallen for you so much that you could envision our unborn children."
He smiled mischievously, ignoring her, "-as a wizard of honour, it's only fair that I repay the debt."
*****
It is often when one is lying in bed late in the night, when all else is dark and silent and asleep, that one is assailed by thoughts and memories long forgotten. I'd been sleeping so well in the days past that it was strange to find myself lying in bed and staring at the ceiling once again, knowing that sleep would not come. I could hear the unnatural silence of the fog without, strangely comforting after today, the odd creaks and groans of the castle around us, which sent chills up my spine and chest each time I heard them, and the even breathing of my roommates, long deep in sleep, who I could not join.
I wanted Mum again, I wanted her to come to my room and lie with me until I fell asleep, as she hummed some song to herself and wrapped her arm around me more secure than any blanket I could ever receive. But she wasn't there and so I tried to distract myself by thinking about all the things we had discussed in the Headmistress' office after the Minister had left.
The Minister had listed all the attacks on me save the one on Uncle Lupin that I was firmly convinced was connected, though I wasn't sure how, in the order of how they'd occurred: My near-drowning first by the girls under the Imperius Curse, the Dementor attack during detention, the cursed letter on Christmas Day and then the Kappa in the Black Lake today. With the inclusion of Uncle Lupin's attack, we'd managed to work out that each attack was only spaced by a matter of days, save for the interval from Christmas Day to today which was most likely due to my removal to Nice for the while. This gave us a profile, for he would then have to be a werewolf, someone well-versed in the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures and old enough to have been affected by the events of the Second War.
As werewolf registry was still mandatory Dad had said that he would check the records for someone who fit the profile. Mum reminded him that it was possible that this person was bitten during the war or had not registered at all, and he insisted that it couldn't hurt to check anyway, and then against the list the other Aurors were drawing up at the Ministry. Here the OGB suggested that they further check the list against one of former Hogwarts students in the period seven years immediately preceding, during and seven post, their attendance. Professor McGonagall agreed, and Dad begrudgingly accepted the idea, while Mum announced that she was also going to speak to Uncle Lupin. For, after all, if it was true that the attack was connected then it wouldn't hurt to find out exactly how much he remembered and who he thought may be responsible.
My duty in all of this, apart from giving them the idea in the first place and being rewarded with my father's praise, was to return to classes as usual, no objections.
Classes had been suspended for the rest of the day though, and I instead spent the time with Connor lying across the sofa before the fireplace in the Common Room while he read aloud passages from Hairy Snout, Human Heart and argued with Eoin when he had the audacity to complain. (Eoin quickly learned that he was an intimidating, if not more formidable opponent than Rigel.) And the only other interruptions were when one or two of our classmates came over to ask if I was all right-I wasn't, once it had sunk in the frightening reality of my situation had left me severely depressed and though I smiled away their concern, inside I just wanted to cry-and when we had to go down to dinner.
I had missed lunch while in the Headmistress' office so I was starving by dinner time. But as I walked into the Great Hall I was treated to the open stares and blatant whispers of my schoolmates. Then Kimberly showed me the cover of the Evening Prophet which ran a report of the attack that morning under the headline: "Concerned Parents Want Magnolia Potter Out of Hogwarts until Attacker Caught! Harry Potter Refuses to Comment!" Connor took away the paper to prevent me from reading the story beneath, but it was still the most difficult dinner I'd had at school since the first weeks of my First Year. Eventually I was forced to retreat to Gryffindor Tower, having barely eaten, in tears.
Lucky thing Connor, Hortense, Aisling and Kimberly all thought to bring me food. Too bad I hadn't thought to save some of it, for it was guaranteed to be worse in the morning.
But while they discussed and complained about my situation and my parents and the Ministry had their designated lines of investigation to follow, to the official exclusion of myself, I had mine. And particularly in relation to Connor and the OGB, Connor and the comic book, per Rigel's prompting, and Professor Trelawney and her strange predictions.
Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had both trivialised Professor Trelawney's warnings, but sometime during the day, while I lay depressed in the Common Room, the niggling memory finally came through. My father had told me once about the prophecy that Professor Trelawney had made about him, and so I could understand why he'd been so anxious to discover if there was one about me. The others had insisted though, that there was none and furthermore, that anything she said otherwise wasn't really important.
That was not entirely true. For one, they were listening to the OGB, two, she may not have made a prophecy but she had given me a warning. A warning she'd read from her tarot under the influence of cooking sherry, an influence that I was now firmly convinced was rather good for her, ironically.
Her warnings had been as vague as necessary: "There is a terrible danger awaiting you child. A vengeful foe of your family's past seeks to do you harm. Beware of the hound lover and his attendant, their secret contact fuels dark fire. That phoenix will not be able to protect you; the time has come that you will have to watch over yourself. Beware, beware.... Be warned, actions have consequences and consequences will be delivered upon those who have wronged! Beware of the hound lover, darkness surrounds him. Beware of the attendant, born of madness and consuming hate, death is her. I have been watching you from the beginning, I was right the first time, I am right now. Be vigilant when you walk into darkened woods."
On both occasions, she'd warned me within days of an attack, the first in the bathroom and the second with the Dementors. She hadn't been around for the letter, the attack on Uncle Lupin or the Kappa, and she hadn't been very specific about any so that besides being careful in the forest and knowing that Fawkes was useless, there was really not much I could do to protect myself.
But then still that was not exactly right. On both occasions she'd also spoken of a "hound-lover" and his "attendant" who I was to be wary of. Until now I'd no idea what or who she could be speaking of, now I knew. I'd met them both on previous occasions, and they had actually confessed who they were though at the time I did not make the connection.
The "hound-lover" was Connor, as the meaning of his name made clear, and the "attendant", by default of a name change, was Camilla. The only "darkness" that I knew of surrounding Connor was of his mother's family history, for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black had had a reputation for the Dark Arts and his father being a werewolf. As for "madness" and "consuming hate, death is her", Camilla's mother was notoriously deranged and her father hated anyone who wasn't a pureblood-which may have included himself considering the lengths he went to achieve immortality, including murder-and her existence would have meant death for many. But Uncle Lupin wasn't a bad person and Camilla had clearly taken after Uncle Neville, so why should I be wary of them?
The "dark fire" fuelled by their "secret contact"-which for the preservation of my good nature I'd rather think of solely in terms of platonic conversation-could mean anything. Though "dark" suggested Dark Magic, the thought that either of them would be involved in that-and especially Camilla, who was well-advised to distance herself as much as possible from anything to do with the Dark Arts should her secret ever be discovered-was not really something I wanted to entertain. But it was the only explanation, wasn't it? And if it was and they were dabbling in Dark Magic, why? To what purpose would either of them want to get involved with the Dark Arts? No good could ever come of it, none.
The chilling notion that whatever they were involved in was having an unintended side effect in the manifestation of the attacks on me was not something that I could ignore.
But before I could puzzle this further, wondering how I could approach either of them for answers, I found myself nodding off. I was truly tired, and with nothing else to do my body had decided to resist my mind and shut down. I resolved then, as I rolled over and drew my comforter up to my neck, cocooning myself for imagined safety and comfort, that I was going to get answers tomorrow from someone. This was too important to allow them to get away with refusing, and especially from the person I was going to for them.
As he had the first day of school, Rigel was awaiting me as soon as I stepped out of the portrait hole to go to classes. (Connor had spared me a difficult breakfast by going down early and bringing up a couple of sandwiches, a glass of milk and a glass of grapefruit juice.) Completely ignoring Connor beside me though, he stepped in front of me to block my path and asked, "How are you? What did your parents say?"
It couldn't have happened better had I planned it. Hastily side-stepping him to add effect, I said, "Can we talk later? I'll tell you at lunch... can we meet at lunch? We're kind of late for class...."
"I know that, your boyfriend and I have Potions this morning. But it's a simple `yes' or `no' question, just tell me, are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes, yes, we'll talk at lunch," I said and hurried away with Connor, hoping desperately he'd take the bait.
He did, and even better, since he had, Connor reluctantly decided to spend the rest of lunch in the library, catching up on his studies. Once Rigel and I were free to talk then, and because we needed privacy, I found us an empty classroom and locked, sealed and secured the room before rounding on him and demanding, "Tell me everything about Connor, you and that comic book and don't leave anything out or so-help-me I will Crucio you myself."
I was greeted with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk. Understandably this displeased me. "Talk, Rigel, we've got less than half-hour left to lunch and less than that even if Connor suspects something."
The smirk became a snort and he said, "What's this, keeping secrets from your boyfriend? You know, trust is very important to the survival of any relationship. Is this what you would have done if we were-"
I snapped and drew my wand. "Rigel Edmund Weasley, start talking! You've got until I count to t-"
He cut me off by lunging forward and snatching my wand arm, trapping my wand in my hand like he'd done that night in the dungeons, and said, "Fine, fine! Stop being so bloody melodramatic, I'll-"
He was cut off himself when I shoved him off and said, "Then talk already, you're wasting time! Something bad is going on, something that could kill me, and if you know something, anything that could help, even if you don't think it will, I need to hear it Rigel."
Annoyingly, I was near tears when I finished and was forced to roughly push him away when he came to comfort me. I didn't need comfort, I needed answers and he was frustrating me by being himself. He stayed away after I pushed him though, then sighed heavily and sat down nearby and said, "Have you ever read the comic books?"
"Yes," I replied, wearily, unsure of where this was going.
"Okay, well have you ever noticed anything... strange in the pages? Like drawings or words or runes...?" he asked.
I had been shaking my head firmly all the while until he said "runes", then I looked up at him and asked, "Runes...?"
"Yes, runes," he replied. "I know there are runes in the story, the ones he put in for the riddles, but have you noticed any other, strange ones not in the places they're supposed to be? Like in issues without runes?" he asked.
I thought back to New Year's Day in Nice when we'd had a discussion about it after Milo had brought me the second year's issues. I nodded, "Milo had mentioned there being runes in the pages. He said that Carl or Guillaume or one of the others had discovered them, but they couldn't understand them so they thought that it was a secret message that had another key and Mum said it might be an in-joke."
"It's no joke," said Rigel. "It's how he communicates with Camilla and whoever else is in on their little secret when dealing with something they can't talk about. Have you ever seen him with a sheet of paper that looks like Ancient Runes homework?"
I thought back, "I'm not sure... I think I've seen Camilla with something like that."
He nodded, "There you go."
"But... I don't understand, communicates with... What can't they talk about?" I asked.
He sighed heavily again and said, "Well, that's where we go into the Old Greasy Bat. Found out what's going on between them yet?"
I shook my head.
He smiled, "Guessed you couldn't get anything out of them. Bat and Camilla wouldn't dignify your questions with a response and the cub's bound to have a way to get you to drop it."
My cheeks reddened, I felt the hot blush deep, but I said nothing as he continued, "About a year after Grandmother got visitation rights from the good magistrate she'd bribed, our beloved Bat began paying visits to Malfoy Manor. Now we both know that he didn't have the right to leave Hogwarts castle per his house arrest sentence, but someone in authority, possibly the same good magistrate, granted him permission to leave it once or twice each fortnight during the holidays. Grandmother conveniently invited him to Malfoy Manor so that he'd have some place to go and he started showing up for brunch and tea."
I interrupted then, "You mean to tell me that someone gave permission to Severus Snape, known ex-Death Eater, to call on Mrs Malfoy, wife and mother of known, belated Death Eaters?"
"Hey," said Rigel, with not even a hint of offence. "You're talking about my father and grandfather there."
I gave him a look and he flashed a smile, and continued, "Well, yes, like I was saying, he was allowed to visit and he came. But he didn't come alone; almost as soon as he first started visiting at the Manor he brought my cousin along with him. Little Connor Lupin the Metamorphagus, son of a half-blood half-breed and werewolf, `cute as a button' to Grandma Weasley but not fit to exist to Grandmother. She never said that to his face, of course, and treated him almost as well as she treated me, gave him gifts to go home with, toys, clothes, money, more often money, and books. Then his parents found out about it and he stopped coming, apparently they didn't take too kindly to some of the gifts he'd been getting."
I had a feeling I knew why.
"Anyway, after that I started seeing him at the Burrow, and one day I asked him about his meetings with the Bat, why was he with him and things like that, and being the good little boy that he often is he told me. The Bat, at his mother's request or plea or whatever, was teaching him to brew potions, with specific attention towards the Wolfsbane. She was too clumsy and afraid that she'd poison Cousin Remus, and then afraid that something would happen to her or the Bat one day she decided that Cousin Remus' only hope was that their son would learn how to do it. She entrusted the life of her only child into the hands of a man her husband considered an enemy for most of his life... there's Cousin Nymphadora for you.
"I didn't think anything of what he'd told me then, though, I thought he was lying. But when Connor came to Hogwarts he proved that he wasn't, and that the Bat had taken advantage of the situation to give Connor an almost unfair advantage over everyone else. He knew more magic than most of the class and practically breezed through our First and Second Years. But it wasn't entirely the Bat's doings. Connor really is very smart, and probably is a very powerful wizard, more powerful than me, you and Camilla combined. I reckon with the OGB at his side he could give your Dad and my Mum a run for their money someday.... And this is how we get to the comic book."
I interrupted then, "He told me that it isn't entirely his doing, the comic book. That Uncle Lupin helps him, which is the `Kveld-Ulf' in the name."
"Well, yes, but the main ideas of the story are and remain his. Dean Thomas and Cousin Remus are officially in charge of the editing of the story but Connor is in charge of everything else. Do you think he didn't know people were going to start talking about you being Thora? The comic book's been controversial from the beginning, and he just keeps including stuff to keep the momentum going. You were just perfect for the plot, they're reporting over a million new subscribers and a seventy-five percent jump in sales from people dying to know how you'll fit into the story. You're the perfect girlfriend, you know that?"
I snatched my wand up and pointed it at him, the hex on the tip of my tongue, but he smiled and put his hands up in mock-surrender. "But I doubt he's using you for material. He's not that stupid, he's completely in like with you... especially when he's not around Camilla. I'm sure you have nothing to fear from that dark-eyed beauty who stirs the-"
The hex trapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth, silencing him until I got bored of his glare and released him. I could have ignored it, Camilla, Connor and he were all second cousins, though he didn't know that, but I didn't want to. And once I'd freed him, he continued as if nothing had happened, "Since he's in charge of the plots, there are certain things he can include in them when he wants to. I'm guessing that they have to purchase the comics from the stores so he has to encrypt and include the message in them all. Other people may discover the message, like Milo, but they can't read it, and he probably doesn't do it often, so it may be difficult for them to attempt to decipher it. Plus the comic book may be released each full moon but demand means that it's always being reprinted and he could include the message in a reprint."
"So that's the secret of Connor and the comic book? It's a means of communication?" I asked.
"No, that's part of it. The secret is that the OGB has been tutoring Connor for years, Connor's really smart and he's been using what he learnt for his own purposes. The OGB doesn't know about the comic book so he doesn't know about what's going on between Connor and Camilla," replied Rigel.
It did not take long for me to realise the implications of this then, and I said without thinking, "Do you think they're involved in Dark Magic?"
Rigel, understandably surprised, quirked both eyebrows, before replying, "If he's going to these lengths to conceal it, what do you think? The OGB believes that he's the one benefiting from this arrangement, that with Connor `under his wing' he's getting revenge for what Cousin Remus and his friends put him through, and then maybe, has a little protégé.... Me and Camilla, we're just for appearances, we're being taught because he's really a `benevolent', but strict man everyone misunderstands, and Grandmother is an old friend and asked nicely, and Uncle Neville can't give Camilla the guidance she needs.
"But I don't need his help, my mother is considered a very powerful witch in her own right and I take more after her than my cowardly father, thank goodness. Camilla's a natural, so she's not even in his league. And what the Bat doesn't realise is that Connor is the one benefiting most, he may have taught and is still teaching him but he's doing a lot right under his nose and getting away with it. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if he actually has been meddling in the Dark Arts."
I sat looking at him in silent shock for a while then. I knew that Rigel didn't like Connor, so he could say anything he wished about him, but he wasn't one to lie to me. That knowledge more than anything I'd heard so far sent a chill down my spine. This was too outlandish for him to make up, and though I hadn't heard everything about Connor's conversation with the OGB what I had heard wasn't encouraging. I suppressed another chill before asking, "Should I be worried then?"
"Oh no, I don't think so. Connor's a good person, almost too good, if he's doing anything wrong you can be guaranteed that there's a good intention behind it," he replied.
I shook my head, "But my mother always said that-"
"`-the path to hell is paved with good intentions, not bad ones. All men mean well'? That Muggle quote? Voldemort certainly didn't mean well, and the guy who's after you.... I think the better quote for this situation is `revenge is a dish best served cold', for a lot of people are trying to get it and they're not in any hurry," he replied.
Another long silence passed between us then. Rigel helpfully said nothing so that I could process what he'd told me and I looked away out the window at the fog-shrouded world wondering why I'd asked. I didn't want Connor to be a Dark Wizard-in-training, and especially given his parents I didn't want someone like my father one day having to kill him. Uncle Lupin loved Connor more than the air he breathed, that was a fact no one could dispute, and even Rigel had had to acknowledge that. For Connor to become something he'd long fought against....
But Rigel had said that he was a good person. Good people didn't dabble in the Dark Arts though, not if they were truly good. Did Connor not understand what his father suffered because people thought of him only as a Dark Creature? Did he not know how much Uncle Lupin had had to fight against being ascribed a monster when he'd done nothing wrong? How much he had to fight against a part of himself each month so that he would not kill his family, or worse?
And what if these things were affecting me? The chilling notion was back and would not go away now. Not when it seemed that my boyfriend was inadvertently killing me.
Finally I looked away from the window and asked, "What about you, are you just telling me this because you're jealous? Don't do anything blatant to break us up, but appeal to my strict sense of morality?"
He gave a strange smile. "Why would I want to come between you and my cousin? We've been friends longer than you two have known each other and been... dating. I'm not worried; it'll take more than a boyfriend to break us up. However, if you want to break up with him I will not object, three's a crowd after all, and that would definitely offend your `moral sensibilities'."
Just then the bell rang, sparing him my response. Possibly suspecting that I was going to respond, and snappily too, he stood up abruptly and said, "Well then, see you later. I'll be looking out for you at the Quidditch match, don't try anything stupid like miss it to snog your boyfriend. I'll tell your Dad you never got up on that Quasar Mach I he took his hard-earned money and precious time to find for you."
"I don't want to play, leave me alone," I replied, rising to leave as well.
"You know, your Dad's never asked you to do anything for him, ever. But the one time he asks you to do something you refuse. What's the big deal about getting on the broom? So he wants you to play Seeker, surely you can just try that one thing for him?" he said.
I glared at his back as we finally left the classroom and he began heading down the hall to his next class.
"I saw that young lady, get up on that broom. You never know, maybe you'll like it," he said over his shoulder. "If not I happen to know someone who could benefit greatly from a new broom. Mum refuses to buy one and she's forbidden Grandmother on pain of going back to court."
I rolled my eyes and walked away, willing the light-hearted parting to shove away my dark (ha-ha) thoughts on Connor. But in time to come I would actually fly the Quasar, though under circumstances much different from anything any of us had envisioned.
When all these things came to a head, instead of helping my House secure the Quidditch Cup I would be flying for my life.
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