"You are quite wrong. Indeed, your failure to understand there are much worse things than death has always been your weakness."
- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, J.K. Rowling
Professor Sprout had been right; Archie was dying.
Remus had finally gotten into the Room. After he had surprised Professor McGonagall and Sirius with hugging the latter during detention, he had ran up the Grand Staircase. The Room of Requirement had opened its doors for Remus even before he had thought up what he had required, and he staggered into the Room.
The dragon had grown immensely. His tail was now longer than Remus, and his head was about the size of Professor Flitwick. In a few months, Remus doubted Archie could still fit his cage.
"Hey, Archie," Remus said softly, approaching the cage. The dragon was lying on its back, his arms slack and his head lolled to the side. A nasty incision green and disgusting with infection ran down the middle of his purple underbelly. The only thing that told Remus it was alive was the rumbling sound coming from its throat, and the smoke billowing in spirals from its nostrils.
The dragon looked at him with some recognition and rumbled. Remus wondered what he was saying, if he was saying anything. Maybe: "I know you, you're the boy who constantly visits me," or "You're the one who gives me food," or "Are you lunch?"
Perhaps the dragon knew him from that little kid who always spoke to him and read in the Room with him. Perhaps Archie recognised him as the one that gave him so many dead animals to eat. Perhaps Archie didn't know him at all.
But Remus knew Archie as the dragon who used to get so furious, used to break out into tantrums and attempt to burn the whole place down. Remus knew Archie as the dragon who happily devoured all the food Remus gave him. Remus knew Archie as the dragon he had tried so hard to keep alive, and the dragon who was now dying.
Remus needed help. As soon as the thought entered his head, a bottle labelled Dragon Tonic landed in his hand.
Remus tried the old tactic of pouring the drink on the carcass of an animal and letting Archie devour the whole thing. But the dragon was unmoving, unenthusiastic and still.
"Eat it," Remus said. "It's your favourite. Dead cow. Yum."
The dragon did not make any move to eat it.
Remus supposed the Room provided water for the dragon when Remus wasn't here. Did dragons even drink water? Remus would have to research about that. But right now, there was no way for Remus to safely administer the potion.
So, he said loudly to the Room: "I need a key again."
A silvery key popped into existence and fell into his palm.
The keyhole on the cage was still there, and Remus inserted the key. Bars shimmered out of existence. He set the key on a table that materialised beside him.
Unlike the last time Remus had gone into the cage, Remus was not afraid. The last time, he had been frightened for his safety, but now was the time to be frightened for Archie's. Remus, feet steady and jaw set, approached the motionless dragon.
"I'll need more Dragon Tonic," Remus said. A flagon of the potion appeared in his hand. He neared the Hebridean Black, but it did not make any movement to show that it knew, or cared, that Remus was close.
"Open your mouth," Remus told the dragon. He did not.
"Fine. Gloves. Really thick ones," Remus said and they appeared, floating mid-air. He set down the flagon and put on the gloves, which were so huge and long that they reached his elbows.
He picked the flagon up with one hand, and with another he gingerly reached out for the dragon's mouth. To his comfort, the dragon did not once make a move to spurt fire or smoke or thrash about uncontrollably. His relief was short-lived however, for the searing heat of Archie's maw, from previous fire breathing or because a dragon naturally had a scorching muzzle, Remus didn't know.
As soon as the glove had touched the dragon's jaws and wrenched them open, the hotness penetrated the thickness of the gloves and Remus felt pain shoot up his arm. Trying to ignore it, he wrenched the mouth even further open and poured the whole contents of the flagon into the dragon's mouth.
Archie began to choke from the suddenness of the drink, so Remus stood back. Fortunately, the dragon calmed and returned to its unmoving state. The immediate danger was gone, so Remus tore his left glove off and inspected the aching hand. He breathed a sigh of relief; the hand looked nothing like it had the last time Remus had visited. It was slightly redder, but not blackened or incandescent crimson like it had been before.
Remus supposed that was enough potions for today. He left the cage and observed the dragon. Archie still looked very sickly, and once again Remus said that he was in need of anything that would keep Archie alive.
Books fell from the ceiling and landed next to him, volumes of spells and enchantments and magical artefacts. Remus did not know how to thank a Room properly, but smiled at the walls like an old friend.
"You know me too well," Remus said, and began reading.
He ignored vague texts about Horcruxes or some other, but through the imprecise descriptions, only humans could have them. He read about unicorn blood, but refused to do so. He knew what came about slaying an innocent creature, and drinking its blood. Remus wanted Archie to live a life, but not a half-life.
The Philosopher's Stone's Elixir of Life was for humans only too. Remus had no idea how to acquire a phoenix, or how to make it cry. He tried asking the Room for both of these things, though it did not provide.
That left something called the sacrificial protection.
"Here, Archie," Remus said and began reading. "The sacrificial protection is an ancient, powerful and long-lasting charm. When somebody willingly, out of deep and pure love, gives his or her life for another, this protection is endowed. The charm is so strong that the one murdering the one who dies cannot harm the one with the protection."
Remus hesitated. He was only eleven, but he knew what the text was saying. He would have to give his life for Archie willingly if Archie was to live, if they went that path.
"Let's look for something else," he mumbled.
He found nothing else of prolonging life, only of healing magic and potions that he had already attempted. Maybe he could ask Dumbledore for help, but then he realised that Dumbledore and all the other teachers had probably already tried all of this and he was just wasting his time.
Frustrated, Remus threw all his books down. This week had been disappointment after disappointment.
During class, James muttered to Remus, "You look like you aren't in a very good mood again. Are you going to call me an attention-seeking git again?"
Remus threw him a look of disdain. "Very funny. Hysterical. You're a right laugh, you know."
"What happened?"
Remus hesitated. It couldn't hurt to be at least a bit truthful. "Somebody I know is really ill."
"Your sick mum?"
"Uh, yeah," Remus lied.
"Wow, I used to not believe you about that," James said. "I'm really sorry for not. I hope she gets better really soon."
"Me too," Remus said honestly and sighed sadly.
During Transfiguration, they were to be transforming objects into living things now, as before they had been transforming living things into objects.
Professor McGonagall said it was much harder, though she smiled widely when Lily said, "Avifors," to her quill and transformed it into a chirping, yellow bird.
"Thank you, Professor," Lily said brightly.
"Sometimes I wish I could Avifors Evans's mouth," James muttered to Remus, who laughed. "It'd chirp much less than she usually does."
"I heard that!" Lily said without looking at them.
Remus grinned. His mood improved considerably throughout the day.
In Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Tacey still resolutely ignored the chapter about banshees and instead they moved onto Gytrashes.
Today, Professor Tacey wrote questions on the board. Remus wondered how Professor Tacey awarded house points, if she couldn't talk, and if she ever did.
"What colour are Gytrashes?" Professor Tacey wrote.
Lily raised her hand. "White, but Professor–"
The Professor waved her question away dismissively with one hand.
"Someone tell me the charm to hold Gytrashes at bay," the mute old lady wrote on the board.
Lily answered again. "Lumos, but Professor, we skipped–"
In the middle of Professor Tacey writing on the board, Lily said loudly, "We were meant to do banshees two chapters ago. Why do you keep avoiding it?"
The teacher stared at Lily for about thirty seconds before conjuring up something with her wand. A slip reading "Detention" and the time and place of the punishment was handed to Lily's shaking hand.
Behind Remus, he heard James hoot triumphantly. "That'll put her in her place – she's never gotten a detention before."
Lily stared at the detention slip for the rest of the lesson and raised her hand no more.
When they were walking to lunch, Remus said to the silent Lily, "Lily, it's just a detention, James and Sirius have had loads, don't worry, your record won't be tarnished–"
But Lily interrupted him and stood in front of the Great Hall doorway. "She's hiding something. That Tacey woman, she's got a secret, she's dealt with banshees illegally before, or murdered one without proper reasoning, or is one–"
Remus groaned. "Lily! This is just like James and his absences in class. He's just a troublemaking kid, and Tacey is just an old lady who had a bad experience with dark creatures before. You're just angry because both of them showed you up, like, once."
"I'm not," Lily said firmly. "She – and Potter. They both have something they're hiding. And I'm going to find out what they are."
"Lily," Remus said. "Even if they do, is it any of your business?"
Lily hesitated. Then: "If it's illegal…"
Remus threw his hands up in defeat. "Okay, you go do whatever you want. Good luck on finding out, if you ever do."
"I will," Lily said, crossing her arms. "You'll eat your words later."
"But first, can we eat lunch?" Remus said. "You're standing in the doorway."
Lily grumbled something, but they made their way to the Gryffindor table anyway.
A lot of the Gryffindors, including Sirius, James and Peter – and Remus almost laughed aloud – the dragon held in the school.
"I haven't heard of it since the start of the year," said a fifth-year.
"I did," said another, much to laughs of derision. "I did! I heard it near the dungeons during Remedial Potions, the roaring of it and I felt it go all hot as it breathed fire. I didn't see it though."
"Stop fibbing, Belby," a seventh-year said, chuckling. "Everybody knows they'd put it in the Forbidden Forest."
"What, so it could burn down half the trees? Yeah, Dumbledore would be that dumb," a sarcastic third-year said.
"I heard it can't even breathe fire!"
There was much chatter and arguing about the dragon and Remus tried to keep a straight face.
"Why the sudden talk about dragons?" Remus asked Sirius.
"Because Peter over here," Sirius said, pointing at the little boy, "overheard a conversation between Sprout and Slughorn about a dragon dying. Says you were there too. What was it like?"
"Uh …" Remus said, suddenly not feeling the urge to laugh anymore. "I don't remember it that much."
"Ah, well," Sirius said, looking disappointed. "'Least we know that there is a dragon in the school, right?"
"Yeah, I wasn't sure until just now…" Remus said distractedly.
"Wish we could see a dragon," James said wistfully. "The only other creature that's half as interesting is Hagrid's animals, which he won't let us near, and that phoenix Dumbledore keeps cooped up in his office all day."
That perked his interest. Phoenix meant phoenix tears, which meant living Archie. "Dumbledore has a phoenix? How do you know?"
"I had to go to his office for a talking to once," James admitted. "Hey, where are you going?"
But Remus was already off. The Headmaster's office was on the second floor, he knew, so he raced up the staircase. Dumbledore would be willing to help him and Archie, right?
He only had an inkling of where it was. He went around a corner and then he stepped in front of an extremely ugly stone gargoyle. Nothing else struck him as interesting on this floor.
"Is this Dumbledore's office?" Remus wondered aloud.
"Yeah," the stone gargoyle said, springing to life. Remus jumped. "What's it to you?"
"I need to see him," Remus said, hoping he sounded confident rather than unnerved by the statue.
"I need to see him," the gargoyle mimicked in a high voice. "You suppose what you have to say is more important than whatever he's doing?"
"Yeah, I suppose it is."
"Listen here, kid–"
"That will be enough, guardian gargoyle," Dumbledore's voice said kindly.
The wall behind the gargoyle had split in half. The statue leapt aside and Dumbledore stepped out a bit to usher Remus inside.
"Come, Remus," Dumbledore said and Remus hurried to step into the place behind the walls with the old man. The walls slammed shut as Remus realised they were on a spiral staircase, moving smoothly upwards. At last, after moving in circles again and again and leaving Remus dizzy and disorientated, he saw a gleaming oak door.
Dumbledore flicked his wand and the door opened. The office was a circular, aesthetic room, full of funny, strange little things. Silver instruments rang and puffed smoke while odd wooden items squeaked and whirred on spindle-legged desks. Portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses hung on the walls, most sleeping quietly in their frames, but some eyeing the pair thoughtfully. Some bid good day to the Professor while others looked at him with disdain. "The werewolf," one snide Headmaster in Slytherin green robes sneered. "What you were thinking, Albus, I have no idea." A large claw-footed desk sat in the centre of the room and the Sorting Hat that had put him in Gryffindor sat on a shelf behind it.
A golden perch behind the door was empty and Remus, excited, thought that this was where the phoenix was usually.
"So, Remus," Dumbledore said, sitting at his desk. "I assume you want to talk about something."
"Sir …" Remus said, hesitating. "You know that Archie – I mean, Archimedes is in really poor health right now. It's dying."
"Yes, I do know that," Dumbledore said serenely.
"And I've heard that you have a phoenix as your pet …"
"Yes, Fawkes."
Remus rubbed the back of his neck like a Bludger from that game James adored had just hit it. "And I read in a book that–"
"–that phoenix tears heal serious wounds," Dumbledore finished for him. "And you would like Fawkes to shed tears to heal Archimedes."
Remus realised how selfish he was sounding. He was expecting this man who had let him in school even with his ailment to now do something else for him, to let his prize pet shed its precious tears for some silly first-year boy's own animal. Remus himself almost cried at how pathetic he was. "Sort of."
"You're a very clever boy, Remus," Dumbledore said. "And observant too. Tell me, what do you observe about this room?"
"That your phoenix isn't here," Remus said, disappointed.
"Exactly," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Fawkes is not here. Tell me, have you heard of a man called Voldemort?"
Remus nodded his head. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The one who started the war."
"The very same. You will know, then, that he has recruited the beings and creatures that the wizarding community has long cast away, giants and werewolves, into his army of dark wizards? You will know that he hates Muggles and Muggleborn wizards and witches, much like your friend Lily Evans. You will know he plans to overthrow the Ministry of Magic and rule as the Dark Lord."
Remus gulped and nodded.
"You see Remus," Dumbledore said kindly. "Phoenixes can do so much more than heal wounds. They are strong creatures, their feathers can be used in wands and they can fly long distances. Voldemort has many followers, and I hope to combat them with my own band of strong wizards and witches. I have sent Fawkes to recruit as many willing, capable people as possible. It is meant to be a secret Remus, so please do not reveal any of this information to anybody else. That is why Fawkes is not here, in my office right now, as he is delivering several messages around the country and the continent. I apologise, Remus."
Remus looked at his feet, disappointment curdling inside his chest. He knew that fighting the war was much more important than the needs of a little eleven year old, but he couldn't help but feel let down.
Dumbledore seemed to see this too. "Say, Remus, what should I name this secret society of mine? Alastor Moody seems to think 'Dumbledore's Army' is appropriate, though it reminds me too much of Voldemort's army. I seem to think Order of the Good would be suitable. What say you?"
"Well," Remus said, smiling shyly, "Fawkes is the one rounding up all the members, you said? I think it'd be only right if it were named after him … like the Order of the Phoenix, or something."
Dumbledore beamed at him. "That is a very apt name. Thank you, Remus."
"No worries, sir."
"Well, Remus, I apologise again for not having Fawkes here. I'm afraid he'll be away for a few more weeks, but I hope he will be back in time to help Archimedes," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Have a good day, Remus."
"You too, Professor."
And he left the office, feeling a little bit better about his and Archie's predicament.
