See Ch. 1 for disclaimer. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!
Chapter 3
Johannesburg is a city in northeastern South Africa, and the capital of Gauteng Province. It sprawls upon the southern slopes of the Witwatersrand, a rich gold-mining region that is South Africa's industrial heartland. The city is the largest and most important one out of the Witwatersrand's string of ten towns, from Springs in the east to Randfontein in the west.
It is the economic and financial center of the Witwatersrand region, which produces forty percent of the country's gross domestic product. It is home to the Johannesburg Stock Exchange, founded in 1887 and the biggest in Africa. Most mining companies have their headquarters in Johannesburg, and manufacturing industries make their home in the city as well. It is home to government branch offices, consular offices, and other institutions usually only found in capital cities. Johannesburg is also the hub of South Africa's road system, with national highways linking it to Cape Town, Durban, Pietersburg, and Nelspruit.
No-one is precisely sure where the name Johannesburg came from, but some say it was named for Johann Rissik, acting surveyor general of the South African Republic (a former Afrikaner state in the Transvaal region), or perhaps Christian Johannes Joubert, head of the South African Republic mines department.
The city stands at an altitude of 1,750 meters, thus moderating the climate. Rainfall averages 850 millimeters a year. The mean temperature in July is 10 degrees Celsius, and 20 degrees Celsius in December.
It was June twenty-first, and Severus Snape found, much to his pleasure, that it was a very bright and sunny day.
oOo
"My name's Severus Snape. I believe I had reserved a room here…?"
The clerk who stood behind the check-in desk was a type of clerk much different from the travel office clerk who had greeted him in such a disgustingly jovial fashion when he had first arrived in Johannesburg around an hour ago (the hour had passed by with the Disgustingly Jovial Clerk cheerfully pushing tourism pamphlets toward Severus before he managed to get the message across that he was not a tourist, he was a wizard who was there for professional reasons). She was a twenty-something, dark-haired, dark-skinned girl, with a pretty, narrow, sly face, and an air which spoke of cold, emotionless efficiency and intelligence. Her nametag read "Alice Zunkel."
"Yes, sir. Your room is on the floor reserved for the participants in the Potions Convention here, the highest floor, floor six. Room number is 612." She handed him the room key. "Have a nice day." The sentence was perfunctory.
Severus nodded to her—a polite movement from him which, if anyone in England had seen it, was sure to shock them out of their wits—and started for the elevator.
The Strildom Hotel was probably the best wizarding hotel in Johannesburg, located a few blocks away from Eloff Street. Oh, it wasn't luxurious or anything like that, but it gave what you wanted. The proprietor of the hotel, a certain J. Strildom, demanded the best employees and the best service. It catered to the wizarding clientele who came here for business purposes, or academic, or even recreational. The lobby wasn't overly showy, but it had a pleasing combination of colours and shapes. Severus rather liked it.
He came up to the elevator and pressed the button for "up." Unlike most wizards, Severus was comfortable with the Muggle world. Being a literal half-blood, he knew quite a bit about the non-magical universe. And it was just as well for his spying too; he was never nervous in Muggle settings. The only problem was getting the Muggle papers at Hogwarts.
Sometimes he couldn't help but feel contempt for the more clueless wizards and witches. They sniffed and looked down on Muggles, but Muggles outnumbered them who knew how many times, and Severus was quite certain that no spell could, so far as he knew, compare to the utter destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by the atomic bomb.
Element of surprise, he thought wryly to himself. Perhaps I shall see about getting a gun, after all.
At that moment, a small drrrringgg sounded, and the elevator opened. Severus stepped in, the doors closing behind him. "Sixth floor," he said aloud.
A small tinny voice repeated, "Sixth floor," and the elevator shot up quickly. When he exited the elevator at the sixth floor, he paused to send a glare the elevator's way. The mechanism, being pure machinery, did not reciprocate. Sighing a little, he dragged his trunk down the comfortably wide corridor, swiftly running his eyes over the room numbers. "612," he said to himself. "There it is." He unlocked the door with the key and pushed.
As the door opened, the lights in the room automatically lit up. It was a very roomy sort of place; there was a small sitting area, with a few cushioned chairs and a square table. He could see a small doorway off the back, which led to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him and surveyed the scene. Yes, he thought, this convention will be very interesting indeed.
oOo
The Carlton Centre was fifty stories high. Next to it was the somewhat shorter, inconspicuous Arts Centre—that was, for Muggles. For wizards and witches it was as plain as could be, especially with the large sign saying "Potions Convention" right above the door.
Severus passed through the doorway and entered the lobby, picking up a schedule as he did so. Flipping it open to the first page, he noted the first activity of the day—evening, to be more accurate. June twenty-second, 6:00 p.m., opening banquet in the Feste Room. He closed the pamphlet with a nearly audible snap, and joined the line of people filing into the dinner hall.
The dinner hall was full of round tables, four chairs set around each of them. In the middle of the tables glowed large, tapered white candles, set magnificently in bronzed candlesticks and decorated by small, vaguely fragrant flowers.
Severus frowned. The whole scenario seemed a little too showy for his taste.
He sat down at one of the tables that wasn't occupied at all—he didn't know so many of the people there personally, so it didn't matter to him where he sat. He looked at the program again. It was a long list of speeches, he saw to his dismay: opening speech, keynote speech, a speech about the constantly changing world, the revolutionary Potions discoveries and such, and a closing. At least they were considerate enough to have the dinner halfway through.
The chairs next to him squeaked as someone sat down. "Unhappy about the program?" a voice asked in English with the slightest hint of some unrecognisable accent. "I do too. I complain about it every year to the coordinators, but they always keep it there."
Severus looked up. "I wouldn't know," he said neutrally. "I haven't been to any conventions in a while." He looked at the two people sitting to his right. Both of them were Asian, and were dressed in dark blue robes of a quality which spoke of a high rank. The older one, sitting next to him, was a little haggard-looking, although her face was still keen and sharp; she looked to be perhaps several years older than him. The younger one was the exact image of the other, no doubt her daughter. "I'm Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts. A pleasure to meet you…?"
The older woman smiled, a brilliant smile that seemed to pour vitality into her body. "I'm Wang Qin, or Qin Wang, as some people call me. Wang is my last name, head of the Chinese Potions Institute. This is my fifteen-year-old daughter, Ming-yue."
Severus straightened. Wang Qin—and I didn't recognise her… "Let me rephrase my last statement, Mrs Wang," he said. "It is an extraordinary honour to meet you."
Wang Qin smiled, obviously amused. "You may call me Wang Qin, Professor Snape," she said formally. "I have always found your British Mrs somewhat discomfitting. And I say it is a pleasure to meet you—the youngest person ever to obtain a Potions Mastery. You even beat all my students." Yes, she was distinctly amused by this.
"That, I am surprised at. Considering the extraordinary level of your students, I am astonished that my record still stands," said Severus.
"You are too unkind to yourself, Professor. I read your Potions Mastery dissertation many years ago, on the subject of the Draught of Living Death, and I found it very intriguing. I am surprised that you have not published more papers."
Severus said, a note of undeniable sarcasm in his voice, "It is hard to do research when eleven-year-olds constantly blow up caldrons in my classes. And some fifth-years, as well."
"And that," said Wang Qin, "is why I am at the Institute—just for those who want to do more than dabble, you see. I am surprised that you haven't already went to another Institute—I hear that there is one in Paris."
Severus replied, "Well, I suppose I am a little too attached to my home country." Not exactly, he thought. Just the fact that I have an ugly mark on my left forearm, and nothing else. What a stigma.
"I suppose you are," Wang Qin said. She seemed to be scrutinising him rather discreetly, although Severus could still tell that she was doing it, despite her best efforts. "Do you have any projects in the works?"
Yes, I do, involving a complete turnaround of the space-time continuum, and keeping formerly dead people alive. It is making me rather busy at this time. "No, not at the moment," he said. "I'm too busy, too much so for any projects. I heard that you had something you were working on though, were you not?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he mentally slapped himself on the forehead. Wang Qin was notoriously secret about her experimental potions, and any queries about it served to raise her suspicions.
She nodded. "I finished it around a month ago," she said cryptically. "Although I think that I am still feeling some of the side-effects." And she gave him an odd look again.
Her daughter now spoke up. "Professor Snape," she said, "speaking of side-effects, what do you think of the Wolfsbane potion?" Wang Qin gave her a warning glance, which Severus decided was of the chiding, cautious variety.
"The Wolfsbane potion?" Severus echoed. Then he recalled a fact about China, one which happened to make a lot of British wizards avoid the East Asian country. It openly accepted werewolves as a part of society, not people to cast out. The overall mindset of the Chinese wizards was that magical humans themselves were an anomaly, especially considering the astonishing number of species of magical creatures and comparing that to the small population of wizards and witches. Werewolves could only be thought of as an unfortunately cursed minority, an anomaly of an anomaly, and if the potion kept them from spreading lycanthropy, why be scared of those who had fallen to misfortune? Of course Wang Ming-yue would be interested in that; of course, she would be asking him, considering a werewolf had taught at Hogwarts and he had had to brew it himself for Remus Lupin. "Do you mean how it affects werewolves in general?"
"Yes," said Ming-yue.
Severus leaned back into his chair. "Hmm," he said. "It really depends upon the mindset of werewolves. I did a little bit of research long ago on werewolves, and the commonly accepted view of lycanthropy, according to Lathrup's theory, is that it is like some virus, infecting the part of the mind that is key to rationality. Rather like a strain spread throughout the brain. A quirk."
"So they say," Ming-yue said. "That would account for why most werewolves are either feral, like your Fenrir Greyback, or they try to stay calm and rational."
"If they didn't," Severus said, "then, yes, they would go feral. They force themselves to have unnatural control over their reasoning, so that the strain doesn't take hold of them during the times when they stay in human form." Like Remus Lupin, he thought.
"But what if it isn't?" asked Ming-yue.
"Excuse me?"
"What if it isn't a strain?" Ming-yue repeated. "Not a virus, I would say, but more like another entity, making them slightly addicted to it on purpose?"
Severus stared at her for a moment, and then leaned forward. "What do you mean by that?"
"Several months ago," said Wang Qin, "my daughter and I were brewing Wolfsbane potion for the werewolves who request it from the institute. We gave the potion to them and took them to the room where they usually change. There was nothing unusual about it—it is a policy we have been following for a while. But the next morning, when we went down…"
Ming-yue shivered. She picked up where her mother had left off. "Everything was bloody," she said quietly. "Some of them were nearly dead from blood loss. They were in the hospital for nearly a week. We asked them what had happened. It turned out that some of them had been attacking each other, despite the potion. That—they had lost their control anyway."
Severus sat back, stunned, and blinked violently, as though he were hoping that those words had not just come from Ming-yue's mouth. "What about the month after that?"
"It happened again," said Ming-yue. "And again and again. Every time more of them lose control. The potion isn't working anymore, Professor Snape."
"You say they've been taking it for a long time," Severus said. "What was the shortest time one of them took it—one who lost control?"
"Two years."
A speaker was standing on the stage, saying something about how welcome all the potions researchers were to Johannesburg, and how they hoped the convention would be interesting. Neither of the three at the table were paying attention to the speaker. They were looking at each other.
"The longest time?"
"Four years."
Severus frowned. "How could this be happening?" he murmured. "You say it has something to do with the potion—"
"Yes," said Ming-yue. "You see, Professor Snape, this is why we sought you out. We heard about how a werewolf taught at your school for a year—you have experience in brewing the Wolfsbane potion, which, by the way, I must commend you for—it is a highly difficult potion, I know it myself. But if you had noticed anything, perhaps a little off about the professor…"
He thought for a moment. "I'm not sure if my observations will be of any use," he said finally. "I could only provide the Wolfsbane potion for a year, and then the next year he didn't receive it either—he had some other matters to attend to. Our Ministry, being the prejudiced thing it is, doesn't provide the potion at all; I daresay some of them think all werewolves should be put to death. So I would not know about the werewolves in England and their circumstances. What does this have to do with what lycanthropy is?"
"Well," said Wang Qin, "you see, Ming-yue thinks the lycanthropy might be sentient. Not a mindless virus, which simply attacks the mind, but a sentient presence, which actively tries to subvert the Wolfsbane potion. Like bipolar disorder, you see, where a person has two different part of his mind. Only in this case, one is human and one is… wolf."
Ming-yue said, "It's like the lycanthropy is changing itself to avoid the potion's effects."
Severus said, "The professor did… grow a little irritated sometimes. I still meet him at times, but he gets the Wolfsbane potion only sporadically. You say you provided it regularly?"
"Yes," Wang Qin said. "I postulate that—well, you know of the slight addiction that the Wolfsbane potion causes. But you see, if lycanthropy is trying to change itself to get around the potion, the addiction might not be a cause of the Wolfsbane potion—"
"—but that of the lycanthropy," finished Ming-yue. "Yes, perhaps the Wolfsbane potion stifles the lycanthropy for a while, but all that time the lycanthropy is studying how it works, seeing how to break free of it. Then, once it can do so…"
Wang Qin said, "After the Wolfsbane potion stopped working, all of them lost their addiction. Because it doesn't need the Wolfsbane potion anymore, it's figured out how to get around it."
"And we don't know what to do!" Ming-yue whispered harshly. "We've sworn all the werewolves to secrecy about this, but if this gets out, what will happen to them? Even our government won't take this happily. We once accepted that it was simply a quirk, an unfortunate happenstance, but if word gets out that it's an actual thinking thing that tries to take over us—they won't stand for it."
Severus's mind was racing. Imagine, he wondered with a horrified realisation, a lot of Fenrir Greybacks, running around the country. Lupin's the bloody archangel Gabriel, compared to him. "So the feral werewolves," he said slowly, "like our dear Fenrir Greyback back in in England. It's not a strain in their mind…"
"No," replied Ming-yue. "I think that somehow the barrier between the two minds must have broken, and they were mixed together—loss of rationality, but they can still interact with others, albeit in a limited way."
"So what are you planning to do?" Severus asked. "Find another version of the Wolfsbane potion to curb lycanthropy?"
"No," said Wang Qin. "We want to destroy it. Get rid of it. Can you imagine how it must be for werewolves—some alien, insidious presence in their mind, actively trying to ruin them, to take their bodies for themselves and use as they see fit? Who cares where it came from, warped magic or a disease or little green aliens? It seeks to destroy the human's free will, and we cannot allow that to happen."
Severus looked at them, both of them faces shining with a hard determination. "I agree," he said. "But if I may ask—why do you want to do it so much?"
And their faces turned hard. "Do you like werewolves?" asked Ming-yue.
"I don't mind them, so long as they do not try to pass on their lycanthropy," said Severus.
Wang Qin nodded. "Very well," she replied. She paused, then said flatly, "My husband is one."
"Your husband…" Severus blinked. He cast his mind back for something to remember, to perhaps recall: Three years ago—a brief mention in a potions journal of how Wang Qin's husband, Hai Yan-shui, had been involved in some hushed-up incident, but there isn't any other information, and he thinks nothing more of it. "The accident," he said. "Three years ago, I heard about it, but no-one knew what had happened. That was a werewolf attack?"
"Yes," said Wang Qin. "And not just any werewolf, you know. You mentioned Fenrir Greyback several times—he was the one who attacked Yan-shui. Nothing personal, just a petty romp through China while he was on his way to Russia. I hear he has gone back to England now. He—he is the one who is not human anymore… he embraced the lycanthropy, made it part of him; he wants to spread it around. Before, with the Wolfsbane potion, it wasn't so bad—Yan-shui didn't mind much. Now that it doesn't work—"
"My father," said Ming-yue, "is always in pain when he changes. We want to stop that. You know how wizards have always said that there's no cure for lycanthropy, as though it were a virus. But it isn't a virus. My mother and I want to make a destroyer of lycanthropy, one that will destroy the presence in their mind that tries to take over them and make them feral. I will not permit it of my father."
"No more lycanthropy," Severus said. "I think I can agree to that. I'll speak to the werewolf I know, about his transformations. I won't tell him anything," he added quickly. "Just ask him what happens. After all, if werewolves are of two minds, then even when the lycanthropic mind is in control, the human mind should still be somewhere…"
"We offer thanks, Professor Snape," said Wang Qin. Ming-yue nodded as well, saying, "Your help will be greatly appreciated, Professor. You will keep it secret?"
"I will," said Severus. "I can keep a lot of secrets, if need be."
And as I am doing right now.
oOo
It was late in the night when the dinner was finally done, and many of them left, heading for the Strildom Hotel. Severus walked next to Ming-yue and Wang Qin, his mind still whirling with the implications of what they had told him. If lycanthropy was what they really said it was…
I am going to send a letter to Lupin tomorrow, thought Severus, and ask him. This is much too important to be ignored and set aside for a month. Much too important.
"Professor Snape," said Wang Qin. "I want to speak to you before we enter the hotel." She motioned for the three of them to step into a narrow alleyway. She flicked out her wand and murmured a silencing ward; Severus could feel the magic settling around them—his reservoir of magical energy had made him more sensitive to magic being performed and invoked. His Occlumency shields and shields around his magic were the only things that kept him from being constantly distracted, and which kept him focused on whatever it was that required his attention.
Wang Qin turned around to face Severus. "I know this may be an affront to you, Professor Snape," she said. "You have offered secrecy, but how do I know that you will not tell the Dark Lord that is in your country?"
Severus jerked back in shock. He stared at the two women; but then he settled down, said calmly: "Then you will just have to trust my word, Wang Qin," in a very cool fashion.
Wang Qin looked at him, and then she smiled. "I thought so as much," she murmured. "You would not have said that if you were loyal to him—not that you are."
Severus looked at her, wondering how she had known about it. "I was wondering," he said lazily, "why you think I am not loyal to him."
Ming-yue laughed, a light tinkling laugh of silver bells. "You remember my mother's potion?" she asked. "The one that we did a month ago, the one that no-one knows about, except for me and her?"
"Yes," said Severus. There was no point in antagonising them; they had the upper hand, and his intuition, in any case, told him everything was fine. Severus's intuition had always been right for him.
"Ah," said Wang Qin. "That was the first potion we have ever made that did not turn out as planned. It was an advanced wit-sharpening potion, you see. We only planned improvements, not a whole other new one."
"Except it was," said Ming-yue. Severus watched the two of them, and noted how totally comfortable they were with each other; there was none of the tension that usually accompanied mothers and adolescent daughters. Unbidden, he thought of the Weasley twins' familiarity.
"I drank it down," said Wang Qin. "Everything looked as it was supposed to, the colour, the taste, the smell, everything. But when I drank it… well." She shrugged. "I can see souls now, Professor."
Severus blinked. Was my old life ever like this? he thought. I don't recall hearing of this before…but then again, when the Dark Lord triumphed, none of his werewolves wanted the Wolfsbane potion. And by then, the country was completely cut off from the others. "See souls," he said, more a flat statement than a question.
"Yes," said Wang Qin. "That is why I said I suffered from side-effects—because I did, in a way. That was how we decided that lycanthropy had a mind and soul of its own; that it reproduces through bites, because I could see two separate souls in my husband, and in the other werewolves as well. That was how I knew you were a spy against the Dark Lord, because while your left arm is a little black, your soul here—" she pressed her hand against her chest "—it shines more brightly than anything I have ever seen. That was how we knew we could trust you when you promised your secrecy to us—I saw that you were a man of your word. And so I resolved that there should be no secrets between us."
Severus stepped back involuntarily. He was not used to mere acquaintances putting so much trust into him, especially with his history of spying. But he looked into their eyes, and saw that they meant it.
"Very well," he said. But even now I keep secrets from you, the two of you, he thought. Just because I can be trusted with yours doesn't mean you can be trusted with mine. "You have been following news about the Dark Lord in England?"
"We have," Ming-yue replied. "At first, it was only because Fenrir Greyback attacked my father, and so we wished to take vengeance. However, now…" she bowed slightly. "You are our ally, now," she said, stepping forward. "You will provide us help with the lycanthropy problem, and so we will help you."
Severus bowed his head as well, in a mark of respect. "I will ask you when the time comes," he replied. "I thank you for your alliance."
"And we thank you for yours," said Wang Qin. She nodded once more at him, and then they were gone.
Severus sighed and walked to the wall of the nearby building flanking the alleyway, sitting down and putting his back against the roughly set bricks. I am so tired, he thought silently. There is so much going on, and I—I must take care of things…
He looked up. The sky was dark, with only a bare few sprinkling of stars across the deep black and blue. Streetlights cast soft muted tones of yellow upon the pavement; cars honked and screeched, and perhaps some doors slammed, some windows opened. And Severus breathed in the smoky air, the air of life and vitality and hope and dreams—that which had been lost when the Dark Lord had won, so many years into the future, and which Severus had finally now found once again.
He thought—thought of lycanthropy, of Unforgivables, of Horcruxes, of death, of green light.
I must take care of things, Severus said to himself as he stood up again, and I will.
He brushed at his robes, dislodging some dirt, and walked back to the hotel.
oOo
Albus hummed absent-mindedly to himself as he walked up the pathway to the empty-looking home. Checking the address, he nodded once in confirmation and knocked on the door. "Horace," he said.
The door opened quickly and Albus slipped inside. As the door closed behind him, he heard several clicks as locks locked back into place. He turned to look warmly at the man who stood before him. "Horace," he said again, warmly. "I hope you're doing well."
Horace Slughorn looked back at him. He was a stout, overly plump man (at least, overly plump was an euphemism—desperately overweight seemed more like it). He said, "Hello, Albus. You got my letter?"
"Right here," Albus said, holding up the sheet of parchment on which an address was written. They passed into the living room. "I must say, Horace," he said, "this house looks much better than that flat a week ago."
"Perhaps," said Horace a little weakly. "But—oh Merlin, Albus—Tom's been sending me messages again, and I dare not ignore them. Here." He lifted up a letter and handed it to Albus.
Dear Professor Slughorn,
I have not seen you in quite a while. I still recall sometimes your Potions lessons, and how very enjoyable they were. You were always skilled at Potions, as I remember. Would you like to talk to me sometime?
Yours truly,
Tom Riddle
"Do you know what this means?" Albus asked, watching Horace's face closely.
"Of course I know what this means," wailed Horace. "He wants me to brew Potions for him, of course! Except—except how can I do that for him?"
"Voldemort, you mean?" Albus said pleasantly.
Horace shuddered. "Oh, Albus, You-Know-Who."
"I don't know who, Horace," said Albus cheerfully. "I do know it's Voldemort. Or Tom Riddle, if you prefer that name."
"He's threatening me," said Horace bleakly. "I don't know what to do—I haven't replied yet, and if so…"
Albus looked contemplatively at Horace. Then he asked, "Horace, how would you like to come back to Hogwarts?"
oOo
Remus sighed and pushed Sirius away from the stove. "Sit down, Sirius," he said wearily. "You can't cook worth anything. Let me." He took the frying pan from him and set it back onto the stove. Then he reached for a carton of eggs. In a quick succession of crack crack crack, three egg yolks tumbled into the pan and began to sizzle. The egg shells were tossed away.
"Make it mushroom, Moony," Sirius said eagerly. "I'm hungry!"
"When are you not?" Remus replied with a wry smile.
Another voice said, "I am too, Remus. Is there any more?"
They both turned slightly to see Nymphadora Tonks enter the otherwise empty kitchen. Her appearance was a square-jawed face, with blindingly bright and jarring short orange hair that curled around her ears. Her snub nose sniffed at the air. "Hmm, smells good."
"I just started cooking, Tonks," said Remus. "Have a seat."
Tonks slid into a chair next to Sirius. "I'm tired," she said flatly. "We were called out barely an hour ago—someone spotted a Dementor in Edinburgh. Had a hell of a time with our Patronus charms."
"What's your Patronus, Tonks?" Sirius asked.
"Chameleon, of course," she replied, grinning at him. "Would it be anything else?"
"Very appropriate, for a Metamorphmagus," said Remus. He was keeping a close eye on the eggs in the frying pan while he hastily sliced mushrooms. He was a master at making simple meals—it was something learned after years of living a frugal lifestyle, with little money to spare. "I swear, if you were an Animagus, you'd be a chameleon."
"Imagine how useful that'd be," declared Tonks, kicking off her shoes and leaning back in her chair. "Conceal and disguise, it'd come in handy. It came in handy for you, Sirius. A big, black, adorable dog."
"Adorable?" said Remus incredulously. "About as adorable as a Devil's Snare, I suppose you could say." He slid all the sliced mushrooms onto the flat side of the kitchen knife and dumped them into the pan. A loud sizzle made its way off the pan. He picked up a pair of chopsticks and began mixing it together.
"Yes, well, imagine Sirius turning into a squirrel!" Tonks laughed. "Or a big dragon!"
"You can't turn into a dragon," Remus interrupted. "It's impossible to turn into a magical creature."
"Why not?" Sirius said indignantly. "Sirius Black the Hungarian Horntail to the rescue!"
"Of your own mind, perhaps," said Remus, trying hard not to smile. "Since they're magical creatures, wizards wouldn't have enough magical energy to be able to turn into one."
"Oh." Sirius thought for a moment, and then said, "What about Dumbledore? He could turn into a phoenix, can't he?"
"He's not an Animagus, Sirius," said Remus. "And I tell you, no, he wouldn't be able to turn into a dragon. Stop acting foolish, Padfoot. Put your mind to something else."
He slid the fried eggs onto a single plate and placed three metal forks beside it—made of stainless steel, not silver. He carried the plate over to the table and set it down. Sirius grabbed for a fork and promptly ate one of the eggs. Once that was done, Remus snatched away the plate and offered it to Tonks. "Really, Sirius," he said scoldingly, "try and be polite, will you? Don't act like a dog!"
"Would you rather I act like Snape?" Sirius demanded. He fixed a glare upon his face and stared at him.
Remus snorted. "You are so hopeless at it, Sirius. And stop insulting Severus, he makes my Wolfsbane potion for me."
"Only because Dumbledore makes him, and not even every month," snapped Sirius. "If he had it his way, you'd be in a Ministry holding cell without any potion at all."
"You're too unkind to Severus, Padfoot. I couldn't have the potion because I was trying to figure out where Fenrir Greyback was, and he couldn't exactly bring me the potion without falling under suspicion."
"I agree," said Tonks unexpectedly. "I mean, Sirius, he's a right bastard, but he's intelligent, and that's what we need, all right? Don't start complaining now."
Remus grinned at her. She grinned back, and winked.
Remus grinned again. Oh yes, this was Gang Up On Sirius Time!
"Besides," he said brightly, "I bet he could look good if he smartened up a little bit."
Sirius sputtered.
"If he cut his hair," said Tonks musingly, "and he didn't look so pale—"
"Argh!" Sirius yelled. "Don't you dare chat up Snape, you hear me!" It was only as the words left his mouth that Sirius seemed to have realised what he had said, and sank back into his seat with a horrified moan.
"Why, Sirius?" Tonks said, an expression of mock innocence on her heart-shaped face. Her bright blue eyes looked curiously at her cousin, who seemed revolted by her next few words. "Do you want him for yourself?"
This time, Sirius did honestly glare at both of them. "You two are sick," he muttered, and fled the kitchen. Behind him, there was a burst of hearty laughter.
Remus watched Sirius as he left, still laughing. "Oh, God, Tonks," he said, "the look on his face. Can you believe that he thought you were serious about it?"
"As if!" Tonks tossed her suddenly long curly brown hair back over her shoulder. "Really, he thinks too little of me!"
"I don't," said Remus. "Worthy of a Marauder, that was." He held out his hand, and Tonks solemnly shook it. Then he saw Sirius standing in the doorway, and smiled at his best friend. "Lo, Sirius," he said amiably. "Recovered from your conniption fit?"
"Not yet," grumbled Sirius as he sat back down. "You two are absolutely incorrigible."
"Amazing," said Tonks. "I didn't know that you knew what 'incorrigible' means."
"I'm not quite so idiotic as that," said Sirius.
"Really?" murmured Remus. "I'm surprised by that statement…"
"Oh, be quiet, Moony. You too, Tonks. Being so cruel to a poor dog."
"You're not poor, you're rich," Tonks said. "You've got the whole of Grimmauld Place, and the Black family vault, and your own."
"I would gladly burn Grimmauld Place to the ground," said Sirius, glowering darkly at the walls, "and I'll hug anyone who gets rid of my mum's portrait."
"Couldn't we paint something on her mouth?" suggested Tonks, twisting a lock of brown turned lime green hair around her right forefinger. "A handkerchief, to muffle her screaming?"
"Won't work," Sirius said glumly. "She put a charm on it so that no-one could interfere with the actual picture. She's insane, perhaps, but she wasn't exactly stupid either. Almost all the Blacks are that way—we're insanely brilliant."
"I can accept that," said Remus. "You're not exactly the most reasonable of men at times. Nor are you the most mature."
Sirius stuck out his tongue at Remus.
"My point proved," said Remus.
"Yeah," said Tonks. "I'm glad I escaped that. I'm not going to marry any relative of mine and turn out an inbred brat."
Sirius coughed and muttered, "Malfoy!" in the same breath.
"How old are you, Tonks?" Remus asked curiously.
"Old enough to get married, according to my dear mater," Tonks said crossly. "Only my mum's haring after me to settle down and raise a family, and I want to fight in the Aurors right now. My mum's got her heart in the right place, but she's so old-fashioned about marriage. Marry young, have children. Really, not like that advice did well for her sisters. Look at how they turned out!"
"Azkaban, and forced to suffer Lucius Malfoy and his brat," said Sirius. "Exactly what they deserved, anyway. Practically all of my relatives deserve what they got."
"What about your brother?" asked Remus.
A sudden silence descended upon the table.
"What about my brother?" said Sirius testily.
"Regulus? Did he deserve to be killed by Death Eaters?"
Sirius looked down at the table. Remus followed his gaze and saw his eyes tracing out the small wood grain lines in silence. "No," said Sirius. "He didn't."
Tonks looked back and forth between them. "Killed by Death Eaters?" she asked.
"My younger brother, Regulus," said Sirius. "He was two years younger than me, in Slytherin. He went into the Death Eaters, but he was scared and tried to back out—"
"I don't think that he was exactly scared, Sirius," Remus cut in. "He led the Death Eaters on a week-long chase before they finally caught up to him. That takes guts, to do that. If he was as scared and cowardly as you always say he was, then he would've stayed and done whatever he could to save his hide. You've being unfair to your family, Sirius, and you really shouldn't."
"I know," said Sirius, staring moodily at the table. "He was decent, I suppose. He never yelled at me about how I was a blood-traitor, when everyone else did. I wonder why he left the Death Eaters though; I mean, he still believed in blood purity and everything, so why?"
"Who knows what the dead think?" Tonks said quietly. "You can't bring the dead back to life, Sirius. All we can ever do is try and guess, and imagine what they would have wanted us to do."
"I suppose," Sirius muttered.
Remus wondered what Sirius was thinking of. His dead blood brother Regulus, his dead friends James and Lily and, in a way, Peter as well—Peter, whose Marauder spirit had died, and left behind a grotesque shell of a human…
He got to his feet, pulling up Sirius as well with him. "Come on, Sirius," he said, false joviality lacing his words, hoping to try and pull him out of his depression. "Let's go off to see Buckbeak, shall we?"
"All right," Sirius said. "Tonks, are you coming?"
His cousin leapt up from her chair and linked her arm with Remus's. "Of course I am," she said. "Lead the way, Remus!"
They strolled from the kitchen, and left behind a crackling fire, a table, and memories of lost family members, blood related or not.
oOo
Much acknowledgement and thanks goes to Encarta Encyclopedia 2005, which provided all of my information for Johannesburg. I had quite a time writing this...
Please review, even if it's only a simple "I like it" or "I don't like it." Reviews feed the writer, and that is the honest truth.
Talriga