Chapter Seven: New Information

The Werewolf Registry was a glum place, and almost completely empty when Harry arrived the next day. There was a dimly-lit waiting room with about ten chairs placed against the walls, some of them littered with pamphlets, many of which bore the title: I've been Bitten: Now What?

Harry felt distinctly out of place as he walked inside and toward the disorganized front desk, where a young man was sitting, looking bored and sleepy. He seemed to perk up at the sight of Harry, though, and opened his mouth to speak as soon as Harry was within a few feet of him.

"You're –"

"I know," muttered Harry dully. "Listen, I need some information on werewolves," he began, speaking quickly and quietly. He didn't know what people might say if word got out that he'd been seen hanging around the Werewolf Registry, but had ultimately decided that he didn't care. Still, he thought it best to spend as little time here as possible.

The clerk looked at Harry avidly, as if he couldn't believe he was actually this close to him, and then glanced down at his desk. He rifled through some papers, then produced a sheet of parchment, which Harry took, along with the quill and ink he was offered.

"Just fill that out and we can set up an appointment for you," said the clerk, sounding unabashedly excited.

Harry frowned. "Is there anyway I can just talk to someone now?" he asked. "It should only take a few minutes."

"Sorry," said the clerk. "My – er – boss is very particular about these kinds of procedures. Don't worry; he's never very booked up. There's a good chance you'll see him today, especially considering you're… well, you."

Harry sighed, then returned to the waiting area and found a seat. He glanced at a young blonde girl sitting across from him, who was also filling out a sheet of parchment. She was thin, and looked very alone. She wore an oversized blue sweater, some faded jeans, and a pair of trainers which had evidently seen better days. Harry guessed her age to be around nineteen or twenty, though it was hard to be sure. He noticed how exhausted she looked, and wondered vaguely if she was a werewolf.

The parchment Harry had been given asked only for the most basic of information, with the occasional werewolf-related questions, including the most blunt – "Are you a werewolf?" Harry found himself looking at the girl across from him, wondering if she had written 'yes' or 'no' for that question.

"Sylvia Pierpont?" called the receptionist.

The blonde girl jumped at the sound of her name. "Yes?" she said.

"There's an opening tomorrow at one o'clock, if you can make it," said the receptionist; his tone was now very monotonous compared with how he had addressed Harry. "Is that all right?" he asked.

Sylvia Pierpont nodded and stood up. She walked over to the desk and handed him her parchment, then returned to her seat to grab her purse. As she passed Harry she hesitated, then said in a soft voice, "You knew Remus Lupin?"

Harry frowned, confused. "Er – yeah. I did."

Sylvia smiled. "He was a good person."

"You knew him?"

She nodded, and Harry saw something like wistfulness on her face. "He was my teacher when I was little. We were both bitten by the same werewolf."

She spoke about her condition unabashedly, which rather surprised Harry. She didn't seem ashamed at all. "I suppose you heard what happened to him," Harry said solemnly.

"Yes," she said. "I couldn't believe it when I found out. I didn't want to believe it... I heard he got married and had a son before he was killed; is that true?"

Harry sighed and nodded. "It's true."

"What's the baby's name?"

"Teddy Remus Lupin. I'm his godfather."

Sylvia smiled widely, and the effect was surprising but pleasant. She looked so much healthier when she smiled. Harry remembered how Remus had always looked younger when he was happy too.

"That's nice," she said.

Harry wondered if this girl would know anything about half-werewolves. She seemed friendly enough, and she had known Remus. Maybe she knew what happened when werewolves had children.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked at length.

"Yes, of course."

"Well, I don't know if you would know anything about this… But I've been worried that a bit of Remus's curse might have passed on to Teddy. Do you think that's possible?"

Sylvia frowned. "Has he shown any signs of being cursed?"

"No. His grandmother and I have been wondering if the symptoms might be delayed, because he's so young –"

But Sylvia was shaking her head. "No," she said. "If he were going to transform, he would have done it by now. It doesn't matter how young you are. If your body can't handle the transformation, you die. There's no reprieve for babies." She heaved a sigh and looked at the floor. "It's a merciless curse."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I noticed. Just out of curiosity, though… Are there many half-werewolves that have shown symptoms?"

Sylvia gave a humorless smile. "There aren't many half-werewolves at all," she said. "Most normal people don't like the idea of breeding with a werewolf. Usually we just marry other werewolves, but it's difficult to conceive a baby under those circumstances. The woman's transformations will usually kill the unborn child." She grimaced.

Harry blinked; he was shocked that someone could know so much about werewolf reproduction. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Sylvia smiled again.

"I've looked into this kind of thing," she said. "I always rather liked the idea of having children, and I wanted to know what I was up against…" She blushed. "I hope that helps, anyway."

"Well," said Harry, now feeling slightly uncomfortable. "I think you definitely answered my question, thanks. I'm glad I met you. It's a relief to know that Teddy most likely isn't going to turn into a werewolf at the next full moon."

"I'm happy for him," she said, and she actually sounded cheerful as she added, "And I envy him."

"If you don't mind me asking," said Harry, feeling like his aunt Petunia for being so nosy," why are you here?"

For the first time Sylvia looked defensive as she said, "My brother Daniel… took Greyback's side when the fighting started up again. He was arrested a while ago, and I wanted to know if there was any way I could help him avoid being sent to Azkaban."

Harry sighed. "That's going to be tough, I bet."

"I'm afraid I'm not very hopeful. He made his decision, and he's paying for it. I just wish he could come home and things could go back to the way they used to be…"

Harry nodded. He understood completely. "Who decides what happens to him?"

She sighed. "I don't really know who ultimately makes the decision. That's something I'm hoping to find out tomorrow."

"Well, good luck," muttered Harry. "If there's anything I can do… I mean, you've taken a lot of weight off my mind, if you're right about Teddy."

Sylvia smiled. "Thank you, Harry. I hope everything goes well for Teddy. If he's anything like his father he's bound to grow up into a wonderful person." She shrugged her shoulders and looked around the room. "Well," she muttered, "I should go."

"Mr. Potter?" called the receptionist, and Harry turned. "Mr. Gudgeon can see you now."

Harry shook his head. "Actually, I don't think I need to talk to him anymore," he said. "But maybe he can talk to Sylvia here. It'll save her a trip tomorrow."

"Oh," said the receptionist, looking rather crestfallen. "I don't know…"

"What," said Harry, bristling. "He'll see me but not her?"

As Harry spoke, Sylvia was nervously muttering that he shouldn't make a scene because of her, but Harry turned to her and shook his head.

"It's their job to help you, not me," he said firmly. "Werewolves should be their priority, not paranoid, overprotective godfathers." He glanced at the front desk; the receptionist had disappeared. Harry supposed he was speaking to his boss, Mr. Gudgeon, or whatever.

"Well," said Sylvia, "I appreciate the sentiment anyway."

"No problem," said Harry. "If they give you any more trouble, send me an owl, and I'll try to do something about it."

Sylvia nodded, her expression bright. "You really are a good person. I can see why Remus thought you would make a good godfather."

Harry, unable to think of anything to say to this, gave a weak smile and shrugged.

"Well, I should get home," he said at last. "Good luck with your brother."

"Thank you."

Harry gave her a final nod. He wondered if he would ever see Sylvia Pierpont again, but for some strange reason he was not optimistic. She hadn't seemed like someone who ventured out into the world very often. Harry supposed most werewolves were like this; they had to keep a low profile, otherwise they would draw unwanted attention to themselves. It was unfair, of course, but Harry wasn't really in a position to do anything like it – not yet, anyway.

He left the Ministry of Magic, anxious to see his godson and tell Andromeda what he had learned.