Chapter 8 – Fight or Flight
"Impedimenta!"
Amelia threw herself back behind the statue she was using as cover and sent a jinx Ginny had told her about at her opponent's knees. He fell to the floor with a crash, roaring in dismay. With a quick glance around the room, Amelia emerged from her hiding place and slowly approached the stricken form – he was being attacked with gusto by a flock of what looked like large bogies with bat wings, his jellified legs flailing wildly.
She smiled, making a mental note to thank the young witch for her recommendation (and not to stick around if the girl was in a bad mood). In the corner of the room, off to her left, something made a floorboard creak.
Amelia span, her wand up and ready in time to block the low-level hex that was shooting towards her and send a swift counter-jinx that made her assailant fall back with a clatter and a brief cry. She was just about advance when her own legs locked tightly together and she collapsed.
"Ow," she complained, her voice muffled a little by the moth-eaten carpet.
"Not bad," said Tonks, cheerily, from somewhere over to her right. "Didn't think you'd get me – bloody floorboards."
"Hmph," said Amelia, trying to roll herself over – only her legs were affected, but the jinx had made them far heavier than she felt they ought to be.
"I think you're going easy on her, Moony," Sirius grumbled, as Tonks got rid of his airborne tormentors. "Yeurch! Who taught you the bat-bogey hex anyway?"
"I work in a school," Amelia pointed out, managing to lift her head a little. "You can thank Ginny Weasley for that honour. Look, I hate to complain, but could someone help me up?"
Molly had assured them that there were no longer any moths in residence, but still. Amelia didn't feel like spending too much time with her face pressed to the floor.
Feeling returned to her legs like a warm tide and she pushed herself up onto her knees.
"Thank you," she said, looking up at her husband, who offered her a hand.
"Careful," he said gently. "It'll take a few minutes to wear off completely."
"Good to know," she said, and then found out first-hand what he meant. "Oh –"
Luckily, Remus knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't listen, and caught and steadied her. Finding her face suddenly pressed against her husband's shirt, she coloured a little. She hadn't expected to have to take his warning quite so literally. Her legs still distinctly wobbly, she looked up to find his blue-grey eyes gazing back, a slight smile on his face.
"Steady," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Amelia smiled back, enjoying the excuse to be close to him. Nearby she could hear Sirius trying to get rid of the last bat bogey – a particularly stubborn one – and Tonks fairly crying with laughter. Remus seemed just as content to ignore them for a minute or two. He tightened his embrace slightly, clearly appreciating the opportunity to cuddle as much as she was.
"Oh, put her down, Moony," Sirius complained.
"She's my wife and I'll do with her as I wish," Remus responded, pressing a kiss to Amelia's forehead. "Well," he qualified, under his breath, "as she wishes."
Somewhere behind her, Sirius made an exaggerated gagging noise. "She's a minx, and she knows it."
Amelia managed to turn around enough to stick her tongue out at him. "You just wait until I can walk again."
Sirius flashed her a wicked grin, letting her know his ego wasn't particularly bruised. "What do you reckon, Nymphadora? We could take them – two against two? Ow!"
"I reckon you need to stop calling me Nymphadora."
When Amelia was a little steadier, they reset the room, which had been equipped with a lot of stuff that was about the right size to take cover behind and that Sirius didn't particularly like. Originally, this had been a grand dining room where his parents had entertained guests, but the chairs had been taken downstairs for the Order meetings and the table had lost two and a half legs to something with teeth. They hadn't quite figured out what it was yet, which was a little worrying, and the few Order members who were staying overnight (Molly and her 'volunteers' had cleared out two bedrooms now – a mammoth task, given the Doxies) had been instructed to lock their doors.
Sirius had given the table to Arthur, who had offered to fix it up, but he didn't want it back. Amelia suspected it would be being pressed into service for every outdoor celebration the Weasleys had for years to come.
Filius and Minerva had put layer upon layer of muffling charms on the walls, floor and ceiling, and Kreacher had been expressly forbidden to enter, so he couldn't undo any of it. This was to be their designated Apparation room, and given how noisy it could be, today's duelling practice was designed to test the charms.
So far, they hadn't set Mrs Black off once – for all they knew, she was still dozing beneath her hideous cap, the ragged curtains pulled tightly closed in front of her. Kreacher had grumbled at them all through lunch (they had unanimously decided not to ask him to cook) and then disappeared somewhere in the attic, where he had a sort of a nest, filled with all the things he had rescued from Sirius and Molly's joint assault on the family heirlooms.
Amelia couldn't help feel bad for him, as miserable as the grumpy little bastard was. He'd obviously loved his mistress very much, and he loathed Sirius as much as Sirius loathed him. She suspected that Kreacher would be marginally less unpleasant if Sirius could bear to be less horrible to him, but it was clearly beyond his abilities – at least for the moment.
For several hours they sparred together, swapping partners and testing each others' abilities. Considering the other three had spent their whole lives in the Wizarding World, two of them had lived and fought through a vicious war and the other was a full-time Auror, she didn't think she had comported herself too badly. By the end of the session, they all had their fair share of bruises.
Together, they trooped downstairs to the kitchen, tiptoeing past the portrait of Mrs Black. Tonks nearly fell over the hideous troll-foot umbrella stand in the hallway, but Amelia seized the back of her robes and Sirius dived for the stand; there were a few moments where all four of them were frozen in that attitude, with Remus half-turned towards them, expecting the worst.
Fortunately, Mrs Black simply gave an extra-loud snore, ruffling the curtains slightly.
Relieved, they continued down the hall, trying to laugh as quietly as possible. As soon as the kitchen door was closed, all four of them collapsed into helpless laughter.
"That was close," Tonks giggled, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Nice reflexes Mel – we should call you 'Lightning Lupin'."
"Comes of years of keeping students out of trouble on dig sites," she said cheerfully. "I hauled a lad up by his backpack once, about one foot away from a cliff edge he hadn't noticed."
"If you're 'Lightning Lupin', what does that make me?" Remus asked, amused.
"You're 'Moony', Moony," said Sirius, as if this was the silliest question he'd ever heard. "God bless Molly Weasley, she's left two pans full of soup and a whole cottage pie – and stuff for sandwiches."
"That woman could provision an army," said Remus, impressed.
"Well, an army marches on its stomach, doesn't it?" Tonks grinned.
"Here, I'll heat it up," Remus offered, taking the pie out of Sirius's hands. "I don't like you getting too near anything with flames."
"Don't put any out for me – I'm going out for dinner," said Tonks, leaning against the counter.
"Hot date?" asked Sirius, putting his boots up on the table.
"I wish! Mum and Dad are taking me out – I think Mum's trying to set me up with one of the chefs…"
Amelia grimaced in sympathy. "My aunt used to do that. Never ended well."
"I should think not," said Remus, tolerantly. "Otherwise you'd have been swept off your feet by some dashing young creature, and I'd be a lonely werewolf, subsisting off Molly Weasley's cottage pie."
Amelia, who had heard this line before, rolled her eyes.
"You do yourself down, Moony. Anyway, what's this chef like? I feel as the elder, more responsible cousin I ought to vet all your suitors."
"Pfft! Whatever!" sputtered Tonks, as Amelia snorted.
"More responsible, my arse," Remus remarked. "We have met you before, Sirius."
"I'm wounded, Moony, wounded!" the other man cried, clutching his chest. "Amelia, can't you keep your old man in check?"
"Where would be the fun in that?" she asked, sharing a smirk with Tonks.
They bickered good-naturedly until the food was ready and Tonks headed upstairs to Apparate. The three remaining Order members sat down to eat one of Molly's magnificent creations.
"You know, if Arthur hadn't beaten me to it, I might have offered to marry Molly just for her cooking," Sirius exclaimed, licking the last of the cottage pie off the back of his fork.
"I'm not sure you could handle monogamy, Pads," said Remus, affably. "Besides, I think Molly's far too sensible a witch to ever have taken you up on it."
Sirius stuck his tongue out at him. "She's a secret weapon in and of herself," he said. "We're damn lucky she's on our side. At this rate, she's going to cook Voldemort to death."
Four and twenty Dark Lords, baked in a pie…
Banishing the thought from her head, Amelia collected their plates and set them washing in the sink. "I think she's cooking to take her mind off Percy," she said, sadly.
"Yeah," Sirius nodded, a dark expression on his handsome face. "That was rough. I mean, I can understand falling out with your parents," he remarked, waving a hand in the direction of the stairs and his mother's portrait. "Even hating them enough to leave – but even I'd be hard-pressed to fall out with Molly and Arthur."
"You fall out with Molly every three days," Remus pointed out.
"Yeah, but as an adult," Sirius argued. "If I'd grown up with them as parents…" he shook his head. "Percy was bang out of order."
"He's ambitious, and his head's a bit full right now," said Amelia, fairly. "Maybe he'll come around."
"I hope so, for Molly and Arthur's sake," Remus reflected, running a tired hand through his hair.
They work so hard for their family. It doesn't feel right to see them unhappy.
Amelia frowned, wondering whether she had caught one of Remus's thoughts again. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he pressed his cheek to it for a moment.
"You know what I'd like to see?" Sirius said eventually, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over them. "I'd like to see Arthur training us to duel."
"Is he good?" Amelia asked, interested.
While it was difficult to imagine the gentle, enthusiastic man fighting anyone, being a part of Hogwarts had taught her that even the sweetest, most unlikely people could harbour a core of ferocity, ready to be unleashed if they were cornered. Remus was a case in point – and Hagrid, when he wanted to.
"From what I've heard," said Sirius, as Remus nodded. "I never saw him myself, but Emmeline Vance told me he took out four Death Eaters at once last time around. He was getting pretty close to it at the World Cup last year – but there were too many people around for a proper fight."
Amelia gave a low whistle, remembering the way Arthur had looked that night, as if something from a former life had started coming back to him – skills he had thought he had forgotten.
"I'd prefer to see Molly," said Remus, after a moment's contemplation. "I think people underestimate her – but remember who her brothers were. Minerva once told me she could tie them in knots with her hands behind her back – and get away with it because she'd perfected the art of looking sweet and innocent."
"Gideon and Fabian, yeah," said Sirius, with half a smile. "Now they were a sight to behold."
"I know those names," said Amelia, trying to remember where from. "Privet? Padgett?"
"Prewett," said Remus, glancing up at her. "Molly's maiden name. They died protecting Frank and Alice."
Of course, thought Amelia, sinking into her chair. How could I forget?
"Now they were duellists," said Remus, wistfully. "We had a duelling club at school, and they could take anything anyone threw at them. You always had a moment when you got paired with some of them, where you wondered how long you'd be spending in the Hospital Wing. Frank, Alice, Lily and James were at the very top of that list."
"Not Sirius?" Amelia asked, amused.
"He had his own list," Remus chuckled. "He's dangerously inventive when it comes to jinxes."
"Why thank you, Remus," said Sirius, with a small bow. "As I recall, you were pretty scary yourself."
Remus inclined his head, graciously. Amelia laughed at both of them.
"So, what am I doing wrong?" she asked. "Since you two are the experts and all."
"Not a lot," Sirius told her, with a grin. He clapped her on the back. "You use spells instinctively, which is good – and not just stuff that's intended for fighting. Most people forget to block the small stuff, which can catch them off guard – don't be afraid to use things the way they aren't intended."
Remus nodded. "Keep moving, keep something or someone to your back if you can. Try to keep the element of surprise if you can – and use that to your advantage. Basically, do everything you did when we fought Crouch Jr last year."
Sirius laughed, heartily. "Yeah, I heard about that. 'If in doubt, always try to drop a heavy object on your opponent's head', the Amelia Lupin school of duelling."
"Never underestimate the power of a blunt object," she laughed, wagging a finger at him.
"Don't underestimate your opponents, either," said Remus, quite seriously. "They'll be watching for any slip in concentration – and they'll be aiming to kill."
"Yeah, you can't let your guard down," said Sirius. "Remember the World Cup?" He tapped his cheek, lightly, where Amelia had received a cut from a nasty curse Sirius had deflected with a shield charm. "That's where you get in trouble. That's how Remus took you out earlier, and it's how Tonks got you by the ankles."
Amelia nodded slowly. "I'll try to keep it in mind."
"Please do," said Remus, with a hint of sarcasm. "I'd like to keep you in one piece if I can."
He reached out and took her hand. There was something off about his tone; he was protecting himself, she realised. Amelia squeezed his hand.
"Can't get rid of me that easily," she said.
Sirius smiled at them sadly, nursing his drink. None of them wanted to dwell on how easy it would be to lose the others.
"We should probably think about making a move," said Remus, clearing his throat.
He was hiding it pretty well, but there was a tightness to his face and voice that betrayed his fear.
"Yeah," said Sirius, feigning a yawn. "I've got a long night of reading up the history of the Moste Anciente and Venerated Viennese Alchemical Society ahead of me. I can't wait."
There was a tension to his bearing too, when he stood, though she knew from Remus's stories that he tended to deal with stress with over-exuberance. Perhaps he was simply tired.
"Aww, poor Padfoot," she said, reaching up and ruffling his long, dark hair. "Stuck inside reading all night. What has the world come to?"
"It's a poor pass indeed when the legendary Sirius Black is home alone and hitting the books on a Friday night," Remus teased. "Have you not got someone to keep you company? For shame!"
"You may have your own thinking man's crumpet, Moony," he retorted, with a wink at Amelia that told her he didn't mean it. "But all mine seem to have evaporated with the warmer weather. They'll be back!"
Amelia smiled, feeling some of the tension leaving her lover and his oldest friend as they wound each other up.
"I'd rather we were on guard duty or something," he admitted. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad I've got a mission that takes me away from this hellhole," he continued, glaring at the walls. "But I'd take a fight over a night reading any day."
Remus shook his head at his best friend. "I imagine you'll get your wish soon enough," he said, with a hint of admonishment. "Besides, knowing you, you'll probably contrive to accidentally set fire to your cottage somehow anyway."
"Oh, come on Moony, I know you. You can pretend to be all grown up and responsible, but I remember the hell we raised at school." He poked him in the shoulder, bringing home his point. "We'd both give anything for a bit of adventure."
Remus rolled his eyes, and Amelia suspected he was about to argue with Sirius, but was prevented, right at that moment, by the kitchen door slamming back against the wall with some speed.
All three of them were on their feet, wands out, in an instant, but lowered them marginally when a very flustered Molly Weasley appeared. Seeing them, she grabbed Sirius's arm.
"It's Harry," she said, quickly. "Mrs Figg fellytoned – Arthur's got that thing set up in the shed and I gave her the number in case there was an emergency."
Amelia felt her heart plummet into her stomach.
"Is he okay?" she asked, at about the same time as her husband and Sirius said, in perfect unison, "What happened?"
"Dementors," Molly gasped. "They attacked him and his cousin. He got them both back home – Dumbledore wants us to –"
But Amelia didn't stay to find out what Dumbledore wanted them to do, she Apparated straight to Privet Drive. She landed with more grace than usual and immediately started off down the street; two cracks just behind her suggested that Remus and Sirius had had a similar idea.
She glanced up at number eighteen, where Arabella Figg was peering out from between her net curtains and a sizeable aspidistra, and nodded. Sirius hurried past her, Remus not far behind him.
"Wands away," he hissed, and they complied, despite their fear.
Amelia was glad, under the circumstances, that they all dressed reasonably 'muggle' compared to most witches and wizards, and therefore didn't look terribly out of place in Little Whinging.
She looked around at all the yellow and TV-blue windows; nobody appeared to be paying them the slightest bit of attention. Movement above her caught her attention, and she was about to reach for her wand when Remus grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
"It's an owl," he whispered.
Amelia let out the breath she had been holding and nodded, tersely, as they arrived at the front door. The light was on in the hall, and someone was yelling about owls.
"Someone's been sick," said Remus, with a grimace. He covered his mouth with his hand. "Merlin, that's pungent."
The shouting stopped as soon as Sirius banged on the front door.
"Quietly," Amelia hissed. "You don't want to wake the neighbours."
"They're not being quiet," Sirius grumbled, but he knocked more softly this time, nonetheless.
A shape appeared behind the rippling glass of the front door – it seemed large and belligerent, even distorted as it was.
Vernon Dursley, Amelia guessed.
A wave of foul smelling air rushed out at them as the man wrenched open the door, standing far enough back to avoid the pool of sick. Amelia swallowed hard, suddenly appreciating how Remus must feel right now. She looked Dursley up and down. As first impressions went, this wasn't a great one. Clearly furious and red in the face, he glared out at them with bulging eyes. It was oddly like a walrus had climbed into a suit of clothes.
"You!" he cried, falling back slightly. As angry as he was, he obviously had a healthy fear of Sirius, possibly bolstered by Harry's insistence on reminding the Dursleys that he was an escaped convict. "You can't be here!"
"I think you'll find that I can," said Sirius, with a haughtiness to his voice that Amelia found wholly unexpected. "Harry is my godson, and –"
Whatever Dursley's intentions – and Amelia was fairly certain he had been about to slam the door in their faces – Sirius's voice had carried to the kitchen, and Harry came racing out into the hall.
"Sirius! There were Dementors! They attacked us – I've got –"
"Shut up, boy!" Vernon Dursley shouted, going – if possibly – slightly more purple.
"Don't tell my godson to shut up, you over-stuffed walrus!"
"Sirius –"
Aware that the situation was getting a bit out of hand, Amelia raised her voice. "Perhaps we should take this inside, Mr Dursley. After all, we don't want your neighbours seeing, do we?"
She slipped between Remus and Sirius, and then under Vernon Dursley's bulging arm, neatly avoiding the pool of sick. Harry looked pale and a little jittery; he had a bruise forming on one side of his face and he was clutching a letter so hard that his fingers had gone white.
"Alright Harry?" she said, brightly.
"I am," he managed, "but Dudley's not – he's in the kitchen."
"Through here?" Amelia asked, not waiting for him to respond.
She pushed open the door, finding herself in an immaculate kitchen that had obviously just been witness to a scene of some uproar. There were white feathers all over the place, suggesting that the owl they had seen overhead had been and gone at some speed. At the table, an enormous boy was seated (definitely the son of the mammoth in the hall – they had the same lack of neck), leaning with his head over what had to be the family sick-bowl. A tall, skinny woman in a flowery summer dress was fussing over him. She emitted a short shriek when she caught sight of Amelia.
"You must be Petunia," said Amelia, before she could speak. "I'm Amelia – I work up at that crackpot school," she joked, speaking quickly, but in a low voice.
While she didn't want to startle the woman, she knew from Harry's descriptions of his aunt and uncle that the only way they were going to make any headway here was by railroading them.
"Looks like your son's had a bit of a rum do – I think a cup of tea would help, don't you? Harry, you know your way around the kitchen, would you do the honours?"
"Yes Professor," he said, his voice shaking very slightly – though whether this was shock or something else, she wasn't sure.
"Make one for yourself – and your aunt and uncle, too," she continued, making her way towards Dudley and Petunia carefully. "It's been a horrible shock all round, I should think. Now my lad," she said, kneeling next to Dudley. "I should think you've been as sick as you're going to get, so why don't you put the bowl down and put your head between your knees, eh?"
"You – you get away – from my son!" hissed Petunia Dursley, shrilly, throwing her arms around his neck.
"No," said Amelia, lightly. "I'm a first aider – a non-magical one. I'm not going to use magic on him, just common sense. Okay?"
Petunia's frightened eyes met hers for a moment, and then she nodded, prising the sick-bowl out of Dudley's hands.
"There, head between your knees, that's right. It'll stop you feeling quite so wobbly, alright?" she said, ignoring the sounds of the argument continuing from the hall. "Honestly, Harry, I can't take your godfather anywhere. Go and see if you can extract my husband, would you, while the kettle boils?"
She heard the sound of the door opening again.
"He's the best at this kind of thing, really…" She looked around. "You just keep rubbing his back, Petunia, and I'll get these feathers tidied up. Dust-pan and brush?"
"Under – under the kitchen sink…"
"Good. Sensible sort of place to keep it."
She kept one eye on the door as she tidied, and the other on Dudley and Petunia, guessing correctly that the woman would feel a lot better when her house was tidy again.
"I must say, your garden's looking lovely," observed Amelia. "What I saw of it, at any rate. It's so difficult keeping everything watered with this hosepipe ban…"
Petunia agreed that it was, indeed, and Amelia managed to coerce her into a halting and innocent dialogue about the recent hot weather that kept her calm long enough for Dudley to get his heart rate down a little.
Harry and Remus sidled in, and the boy went back to making tea. Remus smiled awkwardly at Petunia Dursley.
"Petunia," he said, stiffly.
"R-Remus," she replied, weakly.
Amelia wondered when they'd last seen each other. Before Lily died? Or at her funeral?
"Haven't seen you in a long time," he said, his jaw tight. "You're looking well."
Petunia made a squashed sort of squeaking noise, which Remus chose to interpret as 'you too'.
"And this must be your son, Dudley," he said, joining Amelia. "I've heard a lot about him. How are you feeling, lad?"
Dudley looked up, wide-eyed, but seemed comforted by what he saw. Remus was generally a non-threatening figure, and he was talking to him the way he talked to frightened first years. Probably, Dudley had met someone like him at his own school. The fact that he wasn't wearing wizard's robes probably helped a great deal, too.
"Here," said Harry, appearing with a cup of tea apiece for Dudley and his aunt.
They took them wordlessly, with shaking hands; Petunia didn't even look at him.
"Lots of sugar?" Amelia asked, under her breath, and Harry nodded. "Good. One for you, too," she reminded him.
"Here," said Remus, digging in his pocket. He went to hand a packet to Dudley, but Petunia squeaked again. "It's just chocolate," he said, showing her. "It'll help."
Tremulously, the woman nodded. Dudley took it slowly, with a glance at Harry, who nodded, looking puzzled.
He's probably surprised that Dudley would trust him enough to ask, Amelia realised.
"Perhaps you should have a square, too, Petunia," she said, aloud.
Wordlessly, Dudley handed a piece of the chocolate to his mother, who stared at it as if it was poison. Then he frowned at the packet in his hands, and offered it to Harry too, who stared back at him in shock.
"Er – thanks," he said, taking a piece and taking a bite, as if to reassure his cousin.
A little colour began returning to his face, so Dudley followed suit; he too, looked instantly better, and Amelia smiled slightly, pleased that her husband always had some chocolate on him for 'emergencies'.
"Why don't you show me that letter, Harry," Remus suggested, while all five of them tried to ignore the yelling in the hall.
He read it through with a face like thunder, and then thrust it towards Amelia. "Of all the… Read it."
Knowing at once from his sour expression that this was going to be bad news, Amelia read it quickly – and then had to read it again to make sure she hadn't gone mad.
"What?" she gasped, incredulous. "But you were attacked!"
"I know!" said Harry, clearly relieved that someone was listening to him.
"Wait, it says here this is your second offence," Amelia said, urgently. "What was the first?"
Harry rolled his eyes, which immediately suggested to her that it hadn't been his fault. It was a good sign. "Dobby – he was trying to save me by stopping me from going back to Hogwarts," he explained, tersely. "There was this whole thing with a trifle – I don't want to talk about it."
"And that was him trying to help you?" she asked, astonished.
"He means well," said Harry, quickly, "but he's a bit of a menace."
"Who – who's Dobby?" Dudley asked, slowly.
Everyone turned to stare at him – but no one seemed more surprised than Petunia.
"Diddy! You're feeling better?"
"Yeah, Mum," he said, pushing her arms from around his neck. "That chocolate helped – and the tea… Who's Dobby?"
Harry, who looked like the kitchen might now be operating in an alternate universe, told him.
"How awful!" Petunia exclaimed, in the manner of a woman who thought the idea of non-human servants was revolting, but who was completely fine ordering her nephew about and making him sleep in a cupboard.
"Cool," said Dudley, which only horrified his mother more. "Mum, I'm fine. Eat your chocolate."
Harry gaped at him, agog, while Amelia and Remus shared a surprised glance. Dudley Dursley was not the person they had expected to be able to calm this down.
The rather unnatural moment was shattered by a resounding CRACK!
