Chapter 9: The Attack

Overwhelmed by the enormity of what had occurred, of what could have occurred, Minerva McGonagall sank into a chair, shaking her head at the Gryffindors. It was difficult to decide what to do first. Be sure the students are safe, she thought reasonably. Alert the others. Search the castle.

As she sat there, a white figure fluttered through the portal. A few of the students gasped, and as icy cold fear flooded her, Minerva leapt up with her wand in her hand while cursing herself for having forgotten that the portrait was still hanging open after her consultation with Sir Cadogan.

Ruffled by sleep, barefoot, and clad in a nightdress, the Contessa di Janarra looked swiftly around at the professor and the white-faced students. "Anyone hurt?" she demanded.

Minerva lowered her wand and managed to say, "No. No, no one." She stared in shock at the petite Italian witch in her elegant nightdress with her masses of hair tousled wildly. How had she gotten here so quickly? Even if she had run the whole way, which appeared to be the case, she must have been aware of Black's presence before Weasley woke. Having been a bit skeptical from the beginning of this ability to detect Black, Minerva felt a bit flummoxed to see it was actually useful. "Calyxa, did you –?"

"Yes."

For a second, Minerva did not know what to say. Calyxa met her gaze with deadly intensity. "Are you certain?" she finally asked.

"Yes."

The two women stared at each other with grim looks, and then Minerva nodded. "The castle will have to be searched."

"That is not necessary," Calyxa informed her. "He is gone."

Minerva hesitated. Calyxa seemed so absolutely certain. "Nevertheless, we must take that precaution," she said and then turned to Percy. "Mr. Weasley, please go along and inform the headmaster of what has happened, and be sure to tell him that the contessa is here."

"Yes, Professor," said Percy as he straightened his glasses before heading for the portrait hole.

"Did anyone see him?" Calyxa asked the students. For once, she abandoned her gracious reserve for directness.

"I saw him," Ron volunteered. "Tore the curtains on my bed, he did."

She looked at Minerva. "I need to know what he saw."

This was all moving a bit too quickly for comfort. "Nonsense. Weasley is too young to –"

"I can do it without that," Calyxa cut her off, sounding impatient.

Just like her mother! Minerva thought with a scowl, for the old contessa had been a shrewd, manipulative witch despite disarming gentility. As she glanced around, she became aware that some of the boys were staring goggle-eyed at the partially-clad lady. "For pity's sake, will someone not lend the contessa a dressing gown before she catches cold?"

"Here." Several boys struggled to get theirs off, but one of the Weasley twins was there first. Holding his old and threadbare dressing gown chivalrously, he helped the lady slip it on.

"Thank you, George," she said as she cuffed the too-long sleeves.

Minerva wondered for a second how she could tell them apart. Really, she looked ridiculous, like some kind of refugee, in that well-worn dressing gown, which was several sizes too big.

"Now." Calyxa looked around. "May I sit down and talk to this young man?"

This series of events had to be confusing and frightening to the students, but Minerva knew she had little choice under these circumstances, so she nodded. "Very well, but all other students back to bed."

"Allow his brothers to remain," commanded Calyxa rather imperiously, which annoyed Minerva. "And perhaps his friends."

"Yes, I should have guessed," sighed Minerva. "Potter, you and Miss Granger may stay, and Weasleys, Fred and George, you may stay as well."

As the other students were being shepherded back to their rooms by a prefect, Calyxa settled down with Ron on the old sofa in front of the fire with Potter and Granger on either side of them. "Now, Mr. Weasley – it is Ron, is it not?"

He nodded, frowning.

"I am going to ask you to relive what occurred," she explained. "Of course you will know that you are safe here, but it will be frightening to experience it again even though you know what will happen." She studied his face. "If you do not wish to do so, it is all right."

"No, no, I'll do it," he replied, but he sounded a little nervous.

"Good." She smiled a little. "Now, if you relax and just remember, it will be a pleasant experience. Do not fight it, and it will be like a gentle caress."

The boy nodded, but he looked uncertain.

"Good. Excellent." Taking both his hands, she looked into his eyes. "Just remember – you are safe here with your brothers and your friends around you."

He nodded again slowly.

"Now, think back. You were asleep, and something woke you up. A sound?"

With her brow creased slightly, the lady watched him. Ron whimpered and she gently squeezed his hands. "You are safe, Ron. You are safe here with us…" Then, she gasped and her eyes opened wide. "Losna!"

"Look at that knife," he insisted.

"Look at the hair," she whispered.

What did they see? Minerva could only see the two sitting together and frowning at each other. It was strange. Whatever Calyxa had done, whether it was some ancient magic she had unearthed in her studies, something Albus had taught her years ago at the old contessa's insistence, or something of which all the Janarra were capable, it seemed remarkably simple.

Calyxa sat back, blinking and gently rubbing her thumbs over the back of Ron's hands. "It is over," she told him in a voice that trembled. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." He was shivering. "Feeling a bit cold."

She leaned to embrace him as if he were a small child. When she released him, he seemed more like himself again. "Better?"

He nodded. Now he seemed embarrassed by her attention, and he folded his arms tightly across his chest.

"I'm feeling a bit cold myself," said Fred, and everyone laughed.

The contessa rose. Minerva thought she seemed unusually pale and a bit shaky, but the intensity of her gaze never wavered. "Now, I shall take a look at the dormitory, if you please."

"Yes, ma'am," said Ron, and the others seemed to move towards the stairs with one mind.

"Third year boys only," Minerva announced. "Miss Granger, Fred and George, remain here."

As Calyxa followed to the stairs, George Weasley thrust a pair of battered, well-worn slippers into her hands. "Here, ma'am – you can't go round barefoot!"

With a hint of a smile, she took them and slipped them on her feet. "Thank you again." She glanced back at Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, am I permitted to award Gryffindor ten points for exceedingly gentlemanly conduct?"

"Yes, of course," answered the older woman impatiently. The younger witch looked even more comical now that she was shuffling in slippers made for feet far larger than hers. "Now, let's see what there is to see before Professor Dumbledore needs us."

In the dorm room, the boys told them what had happened in excited voices; young Weasley still seemed a bit shaken up, but that would not last long. Calyxa did not appear to hear anything they said as she stood by the boy's bed and fingered the hangings. In fact, she did not appear to see anything either, for she certainly was not looking at anything in particular.

"There is nothing more to be done here," she finally said. "I shall go speak to the headmaster."

"Yes, let's go," said Minerva crisply, bustling back out to the common room with Calyxa trailing behind slowly. "No one is to leave for any reason until I return," Minerva told the boys who remained before leading the way out of the portrait hole and closing it firmly. She thought about telling Sir Cadogan not to allow the same man back in, but the overzealous painting might refuse to allow entry to anyone after that. Also, Calyxa had been so certain...

"You were able to see him?" she began as they walked. "Recognize him?"

Calyxa looked at her and nodded. "Filthy and still dressed in the robes of the prison. There is no doubt."

Minerva did not need to hear anything else. The two witches walked in silence the rest of the way down to the staff room, where the others, hurriedly dressed or in night things and dressing gowns, were congregating. Everyone looked at Calyxa expectantly.

"He is gone," she said to Albus without preamble but for everyone to hear. "There is no need to search the castle, but I would like the opportunity to walk around the halls a bit to try and find where he entered."

"Gone from the castle?" asked Filius with a worried frown. "Are you certain?"

"Of course I am certain," she snapped. "I can afford no error in such a situation. Not with children in danger."

Filius flinched. The vehemence of her retort had shocked everyone, Minerva noted, though Filch seemed to be glaring at Filius as if he had foully insulted Calyxa. There was a moment of strained silence as the rest of them stared at her before Albus cleared his throat.

"No one doubts you, Calyxa," he said, looking grave, "but we must still search."

She nodded curtly, and Minerva was relieved to see Remus moving to her side and speaking quietly with her. He had always carried a great deal of influence with her and would no doubt soothe her excited nerves.

"We'll do so in pairs," Albus continued. "No one goes alone. I hardly need tell you all to be careful."

All the staff began to pair up and move out into the hall. When she saw that Calyxa went off with Remus, Minerva allowed herself a little smile and banished those worries, for there were plenty of other worries to take their place.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, despite having to search the castle in the middle of the night, despite having a terrible gnawing fear that Sirius was using his Animagus form to get into the castle, Remus tried to keep his mind clear and focused during the predawn hours. To distract himself from his worries as the grey murkiness gave way to early light, he watched Calyxa.

With a well-worn man's dressing gown drooping off one shoulder to nearly drag on the floor and overlarge, scuffed slippers on her little white feet, she looked rather fetching. The disheveled mane of hair made her look wild, and the simple nightdress did little to camouflage her curved figure.

At first he entertained himself by imagining what she wore under her nightdress. A sensuous and passionate Italian would probably wear nothing underneath, he reasoned before forbidding himself to think about it at all. It was proving to be too distracting in a very serious situation. He had to turn his mind to less crude but equally entertaining thoughts.

Did the woman have any concept of the effect her current appearance was having on him and some of the others? Ordinarily, he would have assumed that she had orchestrated things to attract attention; in this instance, however, she looked more unkempt and severe than he had ever seen her before. He guessed that she was too busy and distracted to think about her appearance.

He had seen Severus's eyes resting on her when he thought no one would notice. Even old Dumbledore had seemed to cast an extra glance at her bare calves and ankles, but could he be blamed? No, the lady looked lovely, sexy, and rumpled and had no idea what she was doing to them in the not-quite-virginal white nightdress and shabby man's dressing gown. The fact was that she looked like she had just come from a tumble in a man's bed... or was ready for one...

The staff was searching the castle in orderly pairs with each team taking an area. His vicious possessiveness had surfaced quite unexpectedly, so he had volunteered to accompany Calyxa, for he had no intention of letting anyone else get near her while she was in her current state of undress. Now he was following her like a typical male guarding his female as she made the rounds of all the main parts of the castle.

No one had said a thing, but judging by the looks he had received, a few of the others thought it was his dressing gown and slippers she was wearing and his bed that she had just come from. Since he had thrown on his everyday robes, the old dressing gown that was several sizes too big for her could have conceivably been his. He rather enjoyed the idea; however, he wondered whose it really was. It was certainly not the sort of thing that Calyxa would have chosen for herself, nor was it something that might have once belonged to Prince Borodin.

Another man? Obviously. But who? Eyeing the garment in question, he knew it had to belong to someone very poor. The thought made him both jealous and hopeful at the same time: jealous that she had a lover whose dressing gown she wore but hopeful because she had chosen a poor wizard as her lover.

Such thoughts were definitely far from her mind, though. In a manner that was very uncharacteristic, she shuffled about the castle, peering here and there and concentrating very hard, not seeming to see anyone else, concentrating on something not visible. So fierce did she seem, holding herself so straight and frowning so intently, that it reminded him of a little bird of prey guarding her eggs.

"Remus, have you told Professor Dumbledore of all the secret ways into the castle?"

Her voice in the silence startled him, and he turned to see her eyes were actually focused on him. Frowning, he nodded. "Of course. It was one of the first things I did."

She nodded and sighed, and her eyes drifted away from him as they moved down past the Hospital Wing.

"I know that you can't say anything about your way of detecting him," he said, "but is there any reason to believe that he may still be in the castle? Because I would be surprised if he was."

"No," she said, stopping and looking around with a frown. "As I said before, he is gone. I am certain." There was none of the venom in her words that there had been when she snapped at Filius.

"And you're sure it was him?"

When she looked at him and nodded, her eyes were wide and looked haunted. "Yes. There is no doubt at all."

All the distraction that her disheveled state had provided him disappeared. Gravely, he nodded, but said nothing. There was nothing he could say.

She rubbed her forehead hard with the heel of her hand. "He was… frustrated. A bit mad, I think. And very…" She shook her head. "I cannot even put it into words, not even in Italian." She looked at him, then, wide-eyed. "He did not harm that child, that boy, Ron. But he had murder as his intention. I am certain."

How could she know that? He had no doubt it was true – whatever it was she had discovered or invented, he didn't doubt that it worked and was terrifically effective. Still, he had hoped... what? That maybe it was all just some colossal, tragic mistake? No, he knew better than that.

"I'm sorry," he said. And he was, but he was not just sorry for her or for himself, he was also sorry for all they had lost, for the friends that were dead or gone forever, for the horror of betrayal that would never be alleviated. All that and more.

One of them moved. Or maybe it was both. Later, he couldn't recall, but he embraced her and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. It was difficult to determine who was clinging to whom, but they stood together in the cold, silent half-light of dawn as it slanted down from the massive window at the end of the corridor.

There was some comfort in warmth and affection. A minute passed, and another, and he did not want this to end. Small, soft, she fit just right against him, felt just right in his arms, and protective, possessive feelings pushed out the sorrow and pity he had felt earlier.

In the end, it was she who let go first and pulled back with a slow sigh. "They will be waiting for us," she said. "The sun is nearly up." She smiled wanly at him as if she regretted leaving the precious embrace.

"Let's get you a cup of coffee," he said, taking her arm. He escorted her down to the staffroom, where most of the others had gathered.

When she finally sat down and rubbed her hands over her face, they could all see how worn and exhausted she really was. "I am sorry, Professor," she said to Dumbledore. "I had been asleep, and it woke me. No way to raise an alarm had been set, and I could not think what to do. All I could think was to protect the children. I can now see how foolish and dangerous it was – I left my wand on the night table. But there was no time to do anything else."

The headmaster nodded slowly. "No reason to fret, my dear. Thankfully, no one was hurt. We shall set up a warning system for you to use in case you detect his presence again."

Left her wand? Remus thought in shock. Although she had been practicing everyday magic without a wand since before he even knew her, it was madness to go around alone and unarmed while a murderer was loose in the castle. It was all that he could think about as the others continued talking. What had she been thinking? Had she thought about this at all? Her foolishness, her thoughtlessness worried him. Had she thought to apprehend Sirius single-handedly? Did she think to subdue him with her womanly charms? He thought it unlikely, but she was just a little too sure of herself sometimes.

As he walked her back to her quarters, they did not speak. Determined to confront her about such an impulse, he followed her in to the sitting room and stood watching her as she started the fire. Half of him wanted to shake some sense into her. The other half wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her.

"What did you intend to do if you had found him?" he asked her a bit more bluntly than he wished.

She looked down and shook her head.

Perhaps there was something she knew how to do, something clever and brilliant and foolproof. "Have you… would you have been able to stop him?"

She did not reply.

"Calyxa? Did you intend to try to duel with him?"

"Oh, yes. Duel. That is exactly what I intended."

The sarcasm made him feel defensive. "I thought you might have improved." In his opinion, it had been a reasonable question.

"No, I have not improved, and no, I did not intend to duel. I am amazed you thought I would consider such a thing. I duel with him." She laughed a little.

"Then... do you know something else? A different way?"

She sighed. "No. I do not know if I could have stopped him. I would have tried, but certainly not with a hex."

"Did you think he wouldn't hurt you?"

"There is a good chance that he would not, but I cannot know for certain."

If there was anyone on earth whom Sirius would not want to hurt, it would be her; however, he would have once said the same thing of James... A terrible ache seared his heart as he had the thought. "What would you have done had you met him?"

She considered it, chewing on her lip. "I suppose I would have spoken to him."

"Spoken?" he repeated so sharply that she looked up at him in surprise. "He could have killed you."

"I am aware of that," she retorted. "By Losna, you are sounding like my father."

"Probably because he and I both care about your well-being," he answered, eyes flashing. "You should not take such risks."

"I had no choice. Anyway, it would not benefit him to harm me, and he knows I pose no threat to him." She looked solemnly at him. "What would you have done?"

Before replying, he wet his dry lips. He found it necessary to force the words out. "I would have stunned him. Or killed him. If I had to."

"I do not believe that."

He frowned at her because he was not sure that he believed it himself. He had tried to plan, to set his mind for a confrontation, but the truth was that he had no idea what he would do if he came face to face with Sirius.

Her eyes searched his face, the earlier annoyance gone. She looked at him with a sober earnestness that he found sweetly compelling. "Remus, whatever it is that you are keeping from Professor Dumbledore, please tell him."

As the meaning of her words sank in, his mouth fell open and he stared at her. How did she know? Was it some kind of lucky guess? No, she made educated guesses, not lucky ones. She knew him very well, and she sometimes had the uncanny knack of knowing what he was thinking. In school, he had feared, several times that she really could sense his thoughts, but he had learned that she could not. That would have been a disaster.

"There's nothing that I'm keeping from him," he assured her. "I've told him everything."

She arched a skeptical brow but did not press the point. "Very well," she sighed.

Now that he took the time to look, she seemed on the edge of exhaustion. He decided to use that as a means to deflect attention from himself. He was feeling worn out as well, but he also had the terrible urge to touch her, to hold her. "Sweetheart," he said very gently, placing his hand on the small of her back, "why don't you go to bed and get some rest? You know I don't want to quarrel with you."

"Yes, I know." She rubbed her hand over her face in the same gesture he had seen her make before.

His arm slipped around her waist. "No unnecessary risks, please."

"No, no," she whispered, turning into the embrace and holding onto him as she buried her face against his chest.

That was easy. His arms closed around her. "I don't want to see you hurt," he said in her ear.

"I know." Her voice was muffled against the front of his robes.

He kissed her hair and temple and forehead; it was a Sunday morning and he had no duties today. Had his weariness not prevented him, he would have taken her off to bed whether she had a lover or not. He actually considered it although he knew it was a bad idea. It was a moment of bliss before she pulled away, dragged herself away.

"Remus, you torture me," she whispered, her back to him.

Torture her? He stared at her standing in front of him, looking so forlorn, dressed in her lover's dressing gown, and he wondered what exactly she meant. "I-I don't understand," he stammered. Perhaps he should not have criticized her actions. It had been a difficult night for all of them, especially her. He tried to imagine what it was like to wake up in the cold darkness with a warning that Sirius was in the castle, in the Gryffindor Tower, where the students were sleeping.

It was his own stupid fault for chastising her actions. More than that, he had seen her longing, her need for physical affection. Whatever it was that he had done, it was wrong. Right now, the distance between them felt like a hundred miles.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Forgive me." What to do? There was nothing else to do but ask her. "Shall I go? What would you like me to do?" he asked, quelling an impulse to take a step towards her.

There was a strange little sound from her, either a laugh or a snort. "You cannot make me fifteen again."

What was that supposed to mean? "No one can do that."

"It is as well, for I would not give up my child." She turned to him. Well, she half-turned and did not quite look at him, and her posture was stiff.

"What would you have me do?" he repeated. "Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

"Would you..." She stopped and cleared her throat. "Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?"

Was that all? To sit and hold her hand? He was relieved and disappointed at the same time. But she was not finished.

"Will you lie with me? I mean, will you hug me – hold me? Until I fall asleep?"

This request he had not expected. Lie with her? In bed? Just hold her? On one level, he was not surprised, for it was obvious she was lonely and needy. On the other hand, he was surprised and flattered – and dismayed – that she trusted him that much. As a schoolgirl, she had come to Hogwarts as a timid little thing who knew more about the ways of the world – men and women, sex and courting, marriage and relationships – than all the rest of them. Of course he knew that it had been necessary. Had she been naïve about such things, it would have been her downfall in a place like Venice. Knowing that about her made it harder to believe that she could be that clueless now. She had to realize how absolutely smitten he was, how passionately attracted he was to her.

For her sake, he would pretend he was not. Ten years ago, he would not have been able to do such a thing without embarrassing himself. Now, he knew himself well enough to know that he could lie innocently next to her for hours. Well, if he had been well-rested... perhaps not. But he was truly weary now.

"Of course I will," he answered. "Come on, get in bed. You look like you're half asleep already."

The stiff posture relaxed and her eyes came up to meet his. The hint of a smile flittered across her face before she turned to lead him into her bedroom.

He could not watch her slip off the other man's dressing gown. Instead, he took out his wand and drew the heavy drapes across the windows to block out as much daylight as possible. Once she had slipped under her duvet, he set his wand on one of the night tables and sat down to take off his shoes.

When he climbed under the covers with her and settled on his back, she moved alongside and nestled against him with her hair flipped up onto the pillows. No doubt she was accustomed to sleeping with a man, for he found it easy to wrap his arm around her without one strand of hair tickling him. Head on his shoulder and arm across his waist, she sighed deeply in contentment. In a matter of minutes, she was breathing deeply. Endeavoring to savor the moment, he kept himself awake as long as possible.

As usual, thanks to Vaughn, Phoenix, and Clara Minutes for beta-reading. Special thanks to Finrod the Faithful for the guy's point of view.

Mystress of the Dark, thanks for the comments. I can't respond to anonymous reviews, or else I would have done so earlier.A major section told during 1977-78 will start after six or seven more chapters. I currently have three finished, one almost finished (but unbetaed), one in rough draft form, and one or two more still only in conception mode.
I think the current chapter and the next two or three will provide plenty of interaction between Calyxa and Remus.