Chapter 10 - Guardian
The book-lined room was silent and still, fitfully illuminated by the flickering flames of the fire that burnt sleepily in the hearth. The portraits slumbered peacefully, and even the normally whirring instruments scattered around the office were at rest. Surveying the room from his usual perch, the ancient-looking phoenix glanced wearily around, his feathers dull and moulting. He stirred restlessly, fixing his eyes on the wooden door as if he could see through the heavy oak panels.
A faint grinding noise signalled the staircase springing into action and the phoenix shifted again, cocking his head to one side, his eyes now sharp and gleaming. Oblivious to the impending visitor, the previous Headteachers of Hogwarts snored lightly as they slept on. The phoenix watched the door expectantly, its eyes twinkling in a manner which many Hogwarts students would have found disconcertingly familiar.
With a resounding crash, the door to the office burst open, slamming into the wall with surprising force considering the stature of the visitor. Ignoring the cries of dismay from the portraits, some of whom jumped so hard they almost fell off the wall, the small figure of Ginny Weasley strode into the office, muttering balefully under her breath. Her face was still pale with shock, but her cheeks burnt fiercely as she glared at the grumbling portraits with a look of unmistakable defiance in her red-rimmed eyes.
Watching with perfect equanimity, the phoenix listened with what could pass for amusement to the half-articulated snatches of conversation that the young Gryffindor appeared to be conducting with the empty room.
"Stupid Professors…not a child…must know…"
Kicking savagely at an ornately carved armchair, she winced and flung herself into it, rubbing her bruised toes ruefully. Gazing deep into the fire, her eyes brimmed over with tears which dripped ,unattended, down her face.
With a low cry, the phoenix extended its wings and soared effortlessly across the room, landing lightly on the startled girl's knee. Ignoring her cry of surprise, it hopped along her knee, rubbing its head against the girl's limp arm. It closed its eyes as the girl tentatively stroked its soft feathers, drawn to heal the pain it felt within the young student. After a long moment of silence, the great bird opened its eyes again, sensing that it was not the one to heal the pain the girl felt. It hopped onto the arm of the chair to relieve the slim girl of the surprising weight of its body, but remained close, allowing her to draw what comfort it could from its presence. The unlikely pair stared silently into the flames as the room fell into silence again and shadows chased each other restlessly across the cold stone walls.
Stony-faced, Professor Dumbledore swept through the busy corridors leading from the hospital wing, where the two victims of the attack were being cared for by Madame Pomfrey. With each long stride back towards his office, his feelings of anger and despair grew stronger. Avidly gossiping students fell silent as he passed, cringing away from the crackling magical aurora that he normally took great pains to keep hidden.
Behind him, Professor McGonagall trotted to keep up, her breath coming in furious gasps that had little to do with the pace she was being forced to maintain. She frowned as she took in the pale faces of the students she passed, and put on an extra burst of speed to draw level with Dumbledore as they reached the main staircase.
"Albus," she whispered urgently. "You're scaring the students." Dumbledore paused, one foot on the first step and looked back over his shoulder. A sea of chalky-white faces looked back nervously at him. Coming to his senses, the Headmaster relaxed and the highly-charged atmosphere subsided. There was an audible sigh of relief and Dumbledore nodded briefly, then began racing down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Pausing to whisper urgently at a bemused-looking Madame Hooch, fresh from Quidditch practice, Professor McGonagall shot off in pursuit, casting aside her normally measured stride in an attempt to catch up with the angry Headmaster.
Shooting a baleful glare at the Deputy Headteacher's retreating back, Madame Hooch flicked her wand surreptitiously and cast a Sonorus Charm on herself.
"Right, team," she boomed out. "Practice is cancelled, so into formation and last one back to the changing rooms gets to clean the Quaffle!"
Sighing at the puzzled faces, she spoke with exaggerated deliberation. "Go-to-your-common-rooms. Okay?"
Enlightenment dawned on the assembled students, and they slowly began shuffling off, a low excited buzz of conversation building up as they moved off. Watching them go, Rolanda Hooch shook her head in resignation.
"What is wrong with these children nowadays?"
The portraits jerked awake as the heavy door crashed open again, raising their voices in an angry protest that was instantly quelled by the uncharacteristic rage emanating from the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. Shuffling nervously in their frames, they nevertheless remained in the room, eyes fixed avidly on Dumbledore as he lowered himself heavily into his chair with a grunt.
A reproachful squawk attracted his attention, and his gaze softened as he took in the quietly sleeping form of Ginny Weasley, her pale face standing out starkly even in the dim firelight. His phoenix met his gaze from its position on Ginny's armchair and Dumbledore, against his wishes, let out a brief chuckle.
"You seem to have taken rather a shine to Miss Weasley, Fawkes – should I be worried?" he enquired lightly. The phoenix tilted its head slightly, not looking away, and the two ancient beings exchanged a long and meaning-filled glance. Finally, Dumbledore broke the silent conversation with another short laugh.
"Yes, she is rather exceptional, isn't she," he agreed quietly. He looked down at his gnarled hands and sighed heavily. "But then she'll need to be, if what you say is right."
The phoenix trilled a long and sorrowful note, and Dumbledore nodded, his eyes straying towards the smaller door which led to his private quarters. "Later Fawkes – we have more immediate concerns right now."
"Glad to hear you are making sense again, Headmaster."
Minerva McGonagall's sharp retort was laced with barely-concealed worry, and Dumbledore looked up to see her narrow frame outlined in the doorway, her chest heaving with exertion from her unaccustomed dash through the castle. He felt a twinge of guilt at her exhaustion – she wasn't getting any younger – and rose to solicitously offer her a chair.
McGonagall snorted. "You needn't worry Albus – I'm not about to keel over in your office." She settled herself into her usual chair, taking care not to let the relief she felt cross her face. "You're no spring Nargle yourself, you know."
Fawkes chirruped an agreement, then punctuated his statement by bursting loudly into flames.
Ginny Weasley leapt from her chair, face ashen. Whirling round, she caught sight of the two Professors, and her cheeks burnt with shame. "Professor – I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to-"
Dumbledore lifted a hand, forestalling her apology. "No need, my dear. Fawkes has been due a good burn for a while now."
Ginny looked down at the pile of ashes, enlightenment dawning on her face. She glanced up at the Headmaster. "A phoenix?"
Rising from his seat, Dumbledore nodded, crossing over to her. Kneeling painfully by her chair, he poked gently in the ashes and plucked out a tiny, featherless chick. He held Fawkes out towards Ginny, urging her on with a silent nod.
Taking the new-born Phoenix in her delicate fingers as if she were handling something infinitely precious, she gasped in wonder as Fawkes nuzzled her thumb affectionately. "I've never seen one before," she whispered reverently, placing the phoenix back on his perch with great care.
Fawkes let out a high-pitched chirp and Ginny giggled girlishly. She looked back at Dumbledore, still crouched by the armchair, and her smile faded as recent events reasserted themselves again.
Dumbledore felt his answering smile melt from his lips, and the churning mixture of emotions bubbled up inside him once more. Ignoring the cracking in his knees as he stood up again, he crossed heavily back to his desk, gesturing for Ginny to take up the seat next to Professor McGonagall.
The Deputy Headmistress gave him a quizzical look as he returned to his seat once more, nodding almost infinitesimally towards the young girl by her side. Dumbledore simply stared in return and she rolled her eyes silently, before nodding her assent, even though her face made her disapproval clear.
Ginny watched the exchange silently, reading their faces, then turned towards Dumbledore at its conclusion. Her brown eyes met his, and the Professor was forcibly reminded of how much this young girl had grown in his estimation as he regarded her intent and determined face.
"Harry didn't attack the students," he stated baldly.
Ginny sagged with relief as the tension drained from her body. "I knew it," she whispered almost inaudibly, lost in her own thoughts. Waiting patiently, the Headmaster gave her a few moments to recover her composure before continuing.
"I'm afraid, however," he continued, regarding her closely, "That the same cannot be said for the students."
Ginny stiffened, the fierce expression that Dumbledore remembered seeing in the Pensieve memory of the fight outside Potions returning to her face.
"They hurt him?" she hissed, eyes narrowed.
Dumbledore hesitated. "Perhaps," he mused aloud, "It might be better if we reviewed the memories I collected." His penetrating gaze fell on Ginny, who paled noticeably but kept her composure. "It would be useful to get your perspective Ginny, but I must warn you that it will be – disturbing."
Ginny sat silently for a moment, and Dumbledore regarded her steadily, ignoring Professor McGonagall's furious gaze. You underestimate this girl, Minerva. He glanced over at the tiny Fawkes on his perch, recalling their silent conversation. Then again, maybe I do too.
"I'm ready, Professor." Ginny's face was still pale, but her eyes revealed her determination to proceed.
Dumbledore nodded absently, then looked over to a silently stewing Professor McGonagall. "Minerva?" he questioned gently.
McGonagall rolled her eyes in exasperation and stood up. "As if you need to ask, Albus," she snapped. "I haven't abandoned a student of Gryffindor yet, have I?"
Dumbledore's lip quirked up in a quick smile, and he observed Ginny quickly hide her mouth with her hand. "Of course not, Minerva," he responded peaceably. With a flick of his wand, the Pensieve floated over to sit on the desk before him. From a pocket of his voluminous robes, he pulled out a several small phials and poured their contents into the Pensieve.
"That should ensure coverage of the - significant events," he murmured. He reached a long finger towards the undulating surface, then paused, looking up. "I'm assuming you know how a Pensieve works, Ginny?"
Ginny snorted, rolling her eyes in an unconscious imitation of her Head of House. "I'm a pureblood witch, Professor," she replied simply as she extended one arm, rolling the sleeve of her too-long robe back without bothering to look up.
Dumbledore felt his lip twitch again. "Of course," he agreed quietly. "On three, then?"
Eyes widening with shock, Jenna screamed in sheer terror as the giant wolf, blood dripping from around its muzzle, crouched menacingly over her helpless body.
Bursting from the forest, the two small First Year students skidded to a halt, eyes wide at the scene before them. Beneath Harry, Jenna's screams trailed off into muffled sobs as she gazed up with dawning realisation at the wolf that had replaced her saviour.
"It –it's k-killed her!"
"Help! Someone help!"
Rosie lurched to her feet, frantically extending a pleading hand towards the two boys, who were still screeching in high-pitched voices. Her eyes widened further as louder crashes signalled the arrival of a larger group of older students.
She turned quickly to the wolf, her rational mind beginning to work again. "You've got to leave," she whispered urgently. The wolf glanced at her, its mouth closing, and took a slow, uncertain pace forwards. Jenna, still lying on the ground, seemed unable to move as she stared with a vacant expression at the wolf that had now passed over her completely.
Rosie smiled tentatively at the wolf, now stood in front of her.
"Th-thanks-"
Agony coursed through her body as she dimly felt the impact of a spell on her unprotected back. Dazedly, she looked at the forest floor which appeared to have risen up in front of her as the coppery taste of her own blood filled her mouth. As if calling from a great distance, she heard the faint shouts of the students and saw bolts of green light streaking overhead as the shadows reached out to engulf her completely…
"That's where Miss Smithson's memory ends, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said quietly.
Ginny looked at him silently, her eyes hard and furious. "So they did attack him, then?" Her voice was low but venomous.
From beside him, Dumbledore heard a quickly stifled sob from Professor McGonagall, and placed a comforting hand on her bony shoulder without breaking Ginny's gaze. "Would you care to see the rest?" he asked, without directly answering her question.
Ginny nodded stiffly, her whole body radiating tension.
From her position on the floor, Jenna watched numbly as her friend's body slammed to the ground. Her mind screamed out for her body to move, but it stubbornly refused to obey her commands and she was only able to watch helplessly as events continued to their inevitable conclusion.
The terrified group of students, now comprised of Sixth and Seventh Year students as well as the young boys, were firing spells indiscriminately in their general direction. A Stinging Hex ploughed into the ground inches from Jenna's head and she stared in terrible fascination as the leaves around it hissed and blackened.
Movement caught her eye and she watched in silent astonishment as the wolf sprang in front of her, shielding her and Rosie from the worst of the spells. The great form shook as the spells impacted on it, ripping into its unprotected side mercilessly, and Jenna gasped as fresh blood splattered wetly across her face.
Suddenly, she was able to move again and crawled towards the wolf, now struggling to stay on its feet as the spells grew in intensity. With a whimper, it slumped down, breathing raggedly. Reaching its side, Jenna mustered her last resources and threw herself over its body, twining her hands into its blood-soaked fur as she too teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. She sensed, rather than felt, the spell fire abruptly trailing off as a loud, angry bellowing voice jolted her from her stupor. Enormous rough hands were gently moving her, and she groggily opened an eye to see a huge and heavily bearded face staring anxiously down at her…
Braced for the usual lurch, Dumbledore found himself sat back in his chair. A soft cry drew his attention immediately, and he looked up just in time to see Ginny Weasley sink to the carpet, face chalk-white. Instantly, Professor McGonagall was at her side, her face drawn and tight with a curious mixture of fear and sympathy. Casting a spell over Ginny, McGonagall watched anxiously, then relaxed slightly as the colour flooded back into Ginny's cheeks and her eyelashes fluttered open.
As consciousness returned, Ginny's body stiffened in shock, a terrible, blank expression on her face. Staring unseeingly at the worried Professors, she whispered, "Is he…" Her scratchy, raw voice trailed off and the colour fled her face once more.
Dropping to his knees with no concession to his advanced years, Dumbledore cursed himself bitterly for his relentless stupidity. "Harry is alive," he replied urgently. "Do you understand Ginny – he is alive."
The blank expression faded as his words sunk in, and her reddened eyes twitched over to meet his. "A-Alive?" she croaked, struggling weakly to sit upright. Her voice became stronger, more insistent. "W-where is he?"
"Hagrid is tracking him down now," Professor McGonagall replied firmly. "Once he dispersed the crowd and took the two girls to the Hospital Wing – they're both fine too," she hurriedly added, seeing Ginny's concerned expression. "Hagrid returned to help Harry, and found that he had – left."
Her eyes strayed to Dumbledore's, and the two Professors exchanged an uneasy glance.
Ginny hauled herself laboriously to her knees, two hectic spots of colour burning on her pallid face. "So he left again? We're no closer to him?" Her voice was flat and laced with bitterness.
Dumbledore shook his head quickly, still knelt by her side, and enveloped her small hand in his larger, heavily wrinkled one. "Harry must have been injured – he – he left a trail behind him." Ginny opened her mouth to speak and Dumbledore interjected, patting her hand comfortingly, "He won't have got far – Hagrid will be returning at any moment, you'll see."
His gaze met Professor McGonagall's, and both knew they were sharing the same memory – one that they had not seen fit to share with Ginny.
A long, slick trail of blood beginning in a dark, congealing puddle of gore and leading in a weaving smear into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
"Yes, my dear, Hagrid will find him – you'll see." He didn't doubt that for a moment – especially given the companion that Hagrid would be taking with him.
The question was – would Harry still be alive?
Swearing loudly, Hagrid batted aside the decaying trunk with a careless swipe of one huge hand, and rubbed his aching side ruefully. "Ruddy trees," he growled.
Gracefully ducking Hagrid's backswing, his companion glanced up at the half-giant, a ghost of a smile crossing his pale, lined face. "You will find them in forests, Hagrid," he murmured quietly in a hoarse, strained voice.
Hagrid grunted in response and nodded jerkily at the faint traces of blood on the path ahead. "Trail's fading," he said hopefully. "Think that means he's healing?" His companion shot him a meaningful look and Hagrid sighed. "That's what I thought." Both men knew the real reason for the lack of blood.
Harry had precious little left to bleed.
"Reckon you can still find him," said Hagrid, only half-asking. The pale-faced man nodded heavily, running a shaking hand through his greying hair.
"Just a minute," he replied listlessly.
He took a deep, shuddering breath in and closed his eyes. His head lifted and he sniffed, as if scenting the trail. His eyelids flicked open, and his pupils dilated, the corneas darkening to a dull red.
"This way," he said, his voice thicker and more guttural than before. He shook his head, eyes returning to normal.
He coughed, making an effort to speak in his usual tone. "He went this way," he repeated, pointing off to the left.
Hagrid squinted in the direction indicated, struggling to make out the thick tree trunks in the gloomy forest. "Are you sure?" His tone was dubious.
His companion sighed, and pointed upwards without replying. Tilting his bushy head back, Hagrid stared up at the waxing moon just visible through the thick forest canopy.
"Oh – right," he replied embarrassedly, looking down at his old friend. "You still okay?" he added, striving to sound unconcerned.
The man nodded, rubbing his arms as if feeling a sudden chill. "Three more nights Hagrid," he whispered, his voice desolate. With a shudder, he brought his mind back to the present. "Come on Hagrid," he said briskly. "We need to find our boy." His voice was deliberately light, but the deep concern he felt could be easily discerned.
Hagrid frowned, striding off in the direction the man had indicated. His companion loped easily at his side, keeping up with the half-giant's long stride as if he were born to run.
Side by side, the two men pushed deeper into the forest. Periodically, the man paused to sniff at the air and issue directions, each time taking longer to recover himself afterwards. The forest canopy grew thicker as the ancient trees, gnarled with age, wound themselves sinuously around each other, effectively blocking out the moonlight.
The man looked up appreciatively, then wordlessly lit his wand. Somewhat clumsily, Hagrid lifted his umbrella and the tip flickered with light. His companion looked amused, but said nothing, his face looking even more strained than was usual.
Noting his companion's increased tension, Hagrid quickened his pace, bludgeoning through the thick trunks without a care for further injury. Following in his wake, the smaller man almost missed Hagrid's low, heartfelt muttering.
"Should have kept him myself…had him in my arms…just a tiny babe"
The man quickened his pace and drew level with his large friend. "Hagrid, you were not to know." He looked up at Hagrid's furious face and felt an answering fury swirl in his veins. "Neither of us could have known."
Hagrid growled angrily. "You were practically his uncle – they should have let you-"
Sighing, his companion shook his head dejectedly, quick eyes still scanning the faint path ahead. "You know they wouldn't have approved," he replied resignedly. "Both you and I are not seen as suitable guardians," he continued, spitting out the word bitterly.
Hagrid shook his huge head angrily. "Still, if they'd got their heads out of their a-" A quick hand gesture from his friend cut him off mid-word.
The man stood stock-still, his body quivering as he breathed deeply through his nose. "He's close," he said savagely, his voice filled with hunger. He darted through the trees, quickly lost from sight . "This way!"
Hagrid swore and lumbered after him, carving a great path through the trees in his haste. He caught up with the man on the edge of a small hollow and restrained him with one meaty hand. "Easy there, old friend," he said gruffly, breathing deeply.
The man nodded, reaching back blindly and grasping Hagrid's comforting hand with his own. Hagrid winced as the long, sharp nails punctured his skin, but kept his grip until the nails retracted and the shuddering subsided.
"T-thanks," the man gasped. "It's the blood, you see." Hagrid nodded, even though he knew his companion couldn't see the gesture, and patted his shoulder reassuringly.
Drawing himself to his full height, the man nodded and stepped slowly forward, his wand lighting the way. "He's in here, I think," he said shakily, wiping the sweat from his brow and regaining his composure. The pale wandlight illuminated the tightly wound trees, moving lower down the trunks as they stepped carefully into the clearing.
The two friends gasped in tandem as the light crept over the motionless form of a young man, partially clothed in the tattered remnants of a Hogwarts cloak. Crossing quickly to him, the man dropped to his knees and ran a shaking wand over the boy's battered body. "He's badly injured," he said tersely, his voice taut with fear.
The ground shook as Hagrid fell to his knees on the other side of the still body. Hagrid's voice shook with emotion, and the man knew without looking up that the tender-hearted giant was crying silently. "Is he d-d-d"
The man shook his head quickly. "I can hear his heart beating." Hagrid breathed out explosively. The man shook his head wonderingly at the results of his spells. "He's strong," he whispered admiringly. "The beating he's taken-"
A low moan cut off his words and both men froze, gazing down at the boy. The long, scruffy hair fell to one side as the boy stirred, eyelids slowly opening to reveal a cloudy green gaze.
The man smiled fully for the first time, his prematurely lined face suddenly appearing much younger. "Hello Harry," he whispered. "I'm an old friend of James and Lilly."
He paused, choking back the emotion that welled up at the mention of their names.
"I'm pleased to finally meet you-"
He blinked back tears and continued, his eyes fixed on the young man who gazed back woozily at him.
"My name is Remus Lupin."