Christmas Tree
Hogwarts – Great Hall – December 27th 1993 Morning
Ginny was eating her toast in silence, unwilling to disturb the conversation of her brother Ron and his buddy Harry and likewise lost in her own thoughts about the last night. Not for the first time she had dreamt about Tom Riddle, the young man who had tried to seduce her, to tempt her with her own hidden wishes and weaknesses.
Why hadn't she been able to simply listen, to follow the advice of her brother? As early as they stayed in the compartment of the train on her first ride to Hogwarts more than a year ago he had tried to drive it home that her 'hero-adoring' of Harry was neither welcome nor appropriate. But she had been stubborn, unwilling to admit his greater knowledge about those things. Even Percy hadn't been able to convince her back then.
She had only hidden her wishes and dreamt about a future, something like those faerie-tales she had been reading before Hogwarts. Naturally those weird books had been stashed away now. Certainly there were other things more important and those love novels had already proven their bad influence on her state of mind. For a moment she heard her father saying these words and nodded.
As she found the diary of Tom Riddle and detected the hidden way to have a conversation with him … she fell hard for him and his sweet words, words that promised her a future with Harry.
Tom had succeeded in convincing her that he was her friend and wished her only the best. He spoke about the future, how she would be able to prove her intelligence and bravery to Harry, how he would be impressed and be her boyfriend, how he would kiss her. With her head down Ginny's eyes searched for Harry, her cheeks blushing. Hastily she tried to suppress that feeling. It wasn't right and if Ron …
Tom had been wrong. No, not only had he been wrong but he had lied to her. He had promised that she would be unified with Harry … and they all lived happily ever after … until death us part.
Only that Tom Riddle had planned exactly that: to kill Ginny and Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, to unify them in death. Oh Merlin, she had nearly killed Harry thru her weakness, her fatuity and foolishness. It had been a wonder that he even spoke with her afterwards. Perhaps she should have spoken with him about … no, inwardly Ginny shook her head. Harry would never be able to punish her as she deserved. It had been one of the arguments of her Father about the nonsense of any dreams she had. She needed someone like Percy, Ron or her father, someone with a strong will and hand who would be able to give her a direction and meaning. Without it she was lost and she had seen where this ended.
Suddenly she felt this strong impulse, this gratitude towards Percy and Ron. Indulging this impulse she embraced Ron waist, pressed her head against his shoulder and hugged him, whispering "thank you, Ron, thank you for all you do for your silly little sister."
.
His face was quite a sight, Hermione thought. Showing a little more than only a hint of surprise he relaxed after a look towards his brother Percy. Fred and George, as usual this year, ignored the small scene. It had been odd to see how they more or less ignored her little sister and left it to Ron and Percy to care for her. In the year before it had been quite different. Back then never had they missed an opportunity to care for their little darling.
More than once Hermione had thought about Ginny's weird behavior, pondered about asking Ron. But scenes like this had convinced her that it was alright, that Ginny felt well all around and neither needed nor wished her help. She would ask her for help or search her vicinity otherwise, wouldn't she?
The last days hadn't been very cozy. It all started with a present from an unknown donor: Harry had received a brand-new broom, a firebolt. Happy, no he hadn't been happy. He had been exalted. At least until Professor McGonagall had arrived at the dormitory and taken away the broom. She apprehended that the donor could be Sirius Black and that the broom was somehow enchanted, or better: hexed. She promised to give the broom back after a careful examination but this would need some weeks. Until then he would be without an own broomstick, his old destroyed in the game against Hufflepuff two months ago.
But the real problem about these events and the reason for her difficulties with Harry and especially Ron had been the fact that it had been Hermione who had spoken with Professor McGonagall. She had feared the same as her favorite teacher and until now she was convinced to have done the right thing. But the boys were mad at her and hardly suffered her presence.
In six days the other students would arrive with the train, in seven days the lessons would continue. Perhaps she could think about the spell – Tasha's Grace – today, search in the library for hints. And afterwards … gently Hermione stroke the book she had gotten from Piotr as a Christmas present. An afternoon in front of a chimney fire with a cup of his herb-chocolate and this book sounded quite well.
.
"What a book …" Hannah's voice broke the silence and Piotr tried to tear his eyes from the "Golden Trio plus One" – the one being Ginny – and looked quizzically at her.
"The book you gave Hermione, which one is it?"
"Anna Karenina from Leo Tolstoy," shortly he thought about the other presents he had given away.
There had been a book about herbs used in Eastern Europe for Professor Sprout and a similar book about Potions for Professor Snape. For Neville he had looked for some material about Muggle-Plants of Scotland. And Hannah …
"That's an interesting choice … a book about unrequited and tragic love," Hannah smiled at Piotr, obviously relishing his reaction.
"What," Piotr nearly yelled. "You can't be serious. It is simply … you know … world literature from my home and all." His blushing intensified as he noticed the smirk in Hannah's face. After some minutes Hannah released him from his pain and put her hand on his arm, padding him slightly. "I don't think she'll take it wrong. It is really a nice book, a nice thought."
"Do you really think …?"
"Relax, Piotr, relax. All is well." Her smile was broad and earnest was a last hint of mischief was visible. "By the way I have started to listen to the music I've got from you. It was very … I don't know how to describe. The music is very forceful … dynamic. I think I would never … I had never expected to like something like this but I do. Thank you again very much."
Until now he had been unsure about her reaction, so only now he started to relax. "Stravinsky is one of my favorite composers. He had been the reason that I started to listen to this kind of music in earnest and that I hoped for a while that I would be able to play the piano someday. But unfortunately …" He raised his large hands: "too clumsy."
"I thought you'd be working on that," Hannah asked. "This spell you talked about …"
"Tasha's Grace, yes," Piotr replied. "But until now the spell is faulty, not really usable. And I've not been working on that spell for piano play, it is for Potions. You know: I'm really good at Potions Theory-Crafting. Even Professor Snape admits that I'm one of his better students. But more than once I made small errors in the practices and deteriorated the result to a mediocre one. If this spell comes off I would be …"
"Your marks would be even better, yes."
Piotr frowned. In a way Hannah was right: he had good marks, not the best and in a few subjects moderate ones at best, but he certainly belonged to the 'upper mid-field' at least. But it had never been his interest to … "I don't care about my marks. I want to create helpful potions. Alright, a bit I care about them, because I need them to be admitted to St. Mungo's, but this isn't the reason for my studies."
"Today you're quite easy to tease, Piotr," Hannah bestowed her broadest toothy grin on the grumpy boy. As a response Piotr punched her shoulder. "Good that I don't bruise as easily as you do, little Krim-Boy."
Piotr narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth. "Could you please revoke …?"
"Never, it is simply too nice. But tell me: you gave your spell material to Hermione, right?" After his nod she continued: "And the other spell you're working on?"
His surprised expression rendered his wish to remain calm impossible. Piotr harrumphed: "What other spell you're speaking about?"
"Don't be funny with me, Piotr. The spell you have been reading about in those French books a few weeks ago, the spell that causes you to walk around sniffing like a dog searching for his sausage end."
"Ah, that spell …" Piotr nodded in unison with Hannah, thinking about …
.
A few weeks ago Hermione had spoken with him about a suspicion of her. Professor Lupin had been ill for a few days and it had been the second time that he had been forced to leave the DADA lessons for Professor Snape to teach. That Snape had utilized the opportunity to teach about werewolves, how to detect and fight them, had been a first hint. A quick glance into the astronomy tables showed that the days of his 'illness' coincided with the days of the full moon. And Hermione remembered that the boggart – as he turned towards Lupin in that lesson – had shown the appearance of a silvery bowl. They had interpreted it as a scrying orb back then but it could easily be a moon orb too.
Could it be? Could it be possible that Professor Lupin had a very special kind of 'illness'? And if … would Headmaster Dumbledore be aware of it?
"I'll … I'll examine this … suspicion," Piotr decided. With a stern voice totally devoid of any humor and unwilling to listen to her arguments he continued: "You'll remain on the sidelines. Don't argue, Hermione. You're certainly more intelligent and educated than I but I've more experience in handling this. I need you in security should something happen … to inform Minerva and Dumbledore."
"You mean Snape and Dumbledore," Hermione asked back, her expression clearly unhappy.
"No, I really meant Minerva. She's your favorite and … Snape doesn't really like Lupin. I don't know the reasons but it is quite obvious that he hates Lupin. I don't want to initiate a fight between them."
"And how do you plan to examine?"
"I'm going to sniff."
.
Practicing the spell he had started to learn the summer before – switching to a number of charms after he had been forbidden to use Transfiguration spells for a while – he had anxiously waited for the next full moon phase. Even Piotr wasn't dumb or brave enough to enter Professor Lupin's room at night. So he waited near the door, watching the breakfast one of the house-elves left in front of. Lupin wasn't amused to see him standing beside the meal, his frown deepening as Piotr blatantly sniffed in his direction, suppressing his reaction as well as possible.
"Good morning, Professor Lupin," he greeted. "I hope you're well enough to continue with the DADA lessons. We're missing you dearly."
"Err … yes, it is getting better again. I think in one or two days I'll be there again."
"Good … good," Piotr sniffed again, the scent of wet dog … or wet wolf pelt … not to be mistaken. "And your illness … I hope it is noncontagious?"
If Lupin's frown would have deepened more his brain would have become visible. "Not if handled properly, don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid. I only wanted to assure you that … you have friends here if you need any help, Professor Lupin. Auntie Pomfroy and I …" the nickname caused Lupin to relax a bit and even smile if only slightly "are ready to help in any way needed."
"That's good to know. But now I would like to rest a bit."
"Oh, sorry … here you are." Piotr handed Lupin the tablet with the breakfast and with a last assuring smile walked away.
.
As Hermione asked him about his examination an hour later, Piotr weirdly responded: "Lupin had been a Gryffindor, yes? Do you know how to get a class list of his year?"
.
"It is a spell I learnt from a cooking book. Yes, don't look as if I just lost my mind, Hannah. It is not my fault. The inventor is a French cook and he invented that spell to enhance his olfactory sense. I think it is a very funny spell, but I haven't invented or altered the spell. But you have to train it, to learn the different smells and odors and how to suppress. It isn't only nice to … you know … I only mention sweat."
Yes, he had been training. And the house-elves had been helping with that, presenting him with all kind of food, herbs, dump … all kind of sources of odor. For a moment he smiled as another specialty crossed his mind that he shared with Hermione: his good standing with house-elves. It had started with his wish to repay them for their willingness to help and ended with him cooking herb-chocolate for them and baking – naturally hand-crafted – muffins on Boxing Day. They were one of the few things he was able to create with a taste that not only polite guests found acceptable.
The smile on Hermione's face – as the house-elves told her in the evening about what he had done – on its own had been worth enough the work.
"Someday you'll have to teach me."
.
A/N:
In the book Hermione has a suspicion about Lupin. It is not so hard to see the hints. She nearly spoke about it with Ron and Harry, if not for their awful reaction at that moment. I thought it to be realistic that she shared her idea with Piotr and that he – always the brave and a bit suicidal warden – would use the situation for a bit hero-playing.
