It was a scene that had acted itself out thousands of times before, and would doubtless happen again many, many times before Argus Filch passed his mop and bucket on to a successor. A third-year Slytherin whom had been caught attempting to booby-trap Moaning Myrtle's toilet, apparently in the hopes that the bratty ghost would get blamed for the mess, presently stood on the other side of Argus' desk watching a detention slip get filled out. "Crime," the caretaker snarled as he wrote, "befou..." The little drama took a sudden unexpected turn as the dead fireplace behind the desk flared up.
Much to his surprise, the caller was not one of the professors calling, rather, the head in the fireplace turned out to be a young black man Argus vaguely recalled as having been a Ravenclaw some eight years previously. "Er, Mr. Filch?"
Though Argus' narrowed eyes were anything but encouraging, the former student apparently reminded himself that he was now a grown man and beyond childish fears, and visibly pulled himself together. "I'm from the Isle of Drear Research Center and..."
"Not interested," Argus interrupted firmly as he reached for the extinguisher.
"Wait, wait!" the other frantically shouted. "I'm not selling anything! I just wanted to know if you knew a Terry and James Ev..."
He suddenly had the old man's full attention. "James and Terry? What's happened!? Are they all right?" Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the very interested Slytherin and barked, "Dismissed!" The boy weighed the options of learning more about this fascinating conversation or escaping with his hide intact. Self-preservation won out and the door was flung open so hard it rebounded and nearly knocked the boy over.
"Well, they are, for the most part anyway... Er, you are their father then? I have to confirm...for the record, you se..."
"For the most part?" Argus demanded. He seemed to recall that the twins and their friend Neville had set out this morning accompanied by that black-haired Scottish girl. Just what had happened that she wasn't around to answer questions? "Actually, forget that, what's your fireplace?"
The other man had actual sweat dripping from his forehead now. A little desperately, he asked yet again, "I can't give that ou...well, their parents...are or aren't you their father?"
"Hardly," came the grim answer as Argus folded his arms and assumed his best intimidating expression. "Just a friend of the family. Now, what fireplace are you at?"
"Wizard's Den, but..."
"Finally," Argus snapped as he seized the extinguisher. Mrs. Norris mewed anxiously and hopped onto the desk as Argus paused to pull himself together. "Yes, my sweet; we'll be there shortly."
A house elf was hastily summoned and ordered to pass the information along to Professor McGonagall, then Argus stumped down the path leading to Hogsmeade. Right outside the gates and tucked a little ways into the woods was a hut. It was barely ever used by professors who were capable of Apparating, but its main attraction to Argus was the carefully maintained fireplace. A pinch of green powder and some firmly pronounced words later, (he much preferred to end up where he'd intended, thank you very much) and Argus stumbled out into a spacious and well-lit, though somewhat untidy, common room. It was somewhat disconcerting to suddenly realize that he had just made his first trip outside Hogwart's walls in over two years.
The nervous young man he'd spoken to hovered uncertainly as he tried to piece together a greeting. Argus ignored him in favor of the voices he could hear coming from the next room, which turned out to be an infirmary. Terry looked up at the footsteps, then gave a strangled cry and launched himself into the old man's arms. James, who had been having his leg bandaged, arrived only a second later. Argus clutched the trembling boys so hard he had a half fear of crushing them, but neither child complained.
The third boy in the room was hanging back, but the way he was standing hinted that he very much wished he had someone to hold him. And for that matter, what was one more child? "Come here," Argus told him roughly, his throat constricted. "Come here, we'll sort all this out later." Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of several Hogwarts graduates staring at him in shock.
There was a sudden commotion in the outer room a second before Professor McGonagall burst into the infirmary. There was a quick shuffling around of boys and a new round of embraces, then one of the residents took retook custody of James to finish binding the nasty gash on his leg.
"What happened? How did the boys get here, wherever this is," Minerva finally demanded.
The middle-aged red-haired woman who seemed to be in charge of the group shook her head. "I was hoping you could shed some light on that," she answered with a slight Norwegian accent. "All I know is that the Apparation Wards triggered, so we popped topside to investigate. We found these two," pointing at the twins, "standing on a rooftop, with this one," the finger moved to Terry, "using a levitation charm to keep that one," now indicating Neville, "off the ground."
Minerva started forward with a gasp. "Terry?! Terry, you did magic?"
Mrs. Norris gave an annoyed yowl, which Argus echoed. "Are you seriously telling me you didn't know he could? He's been doing magic for years; surely you've noticed there's not a lock in the castle he can't open!"
"I thought…you mean…I had no idea," she finally finished weakly.
The red-head broke in at this point. "Backing up a little; as I said, we found the three children and one adult, who is…" she hesitated and glanced at the boys, "deceased, I'm sorry to say. We didn't find him or her in time. But do you happen to have any idea why they would have wanted to come HERE?"
"Here being…?" Argus enquired harshly.
Her eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, I am sorry. We are currently at the Quintaped Research Station under the Isle of Drear."
And all hell broke loose.
The twins had been asleep for over an hour now, thanks to a sleeping draught from Poppy, but neither Camden nor Minerva had found themselves able to leave the room. The two of them sat side by side on one of the beds in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Camden with his head in his hands and Minerva with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Minerva wasn't at all sure Camden was listening, but she kept talking in the hopes that her voice might keep him from vanishing entirely into his thoughts. For her, the nightmare was over; ended before she had even known it was happening. For Camden, it was only just beginning.
"Turns out Alec had worked at the Research Center on Drear for a few months about three years ago. Finally left because of a personality conflict with his supervisor, Sigrid. But that's how he knew about the Isle in the first place. It's Unplottable, apparently; newcomers have to Floo in if they want to get there. For safety reasons, there's no entrance from the surface to the Research Center underground. That's why they haven't put Apparation preventers on the island; plus they wanted people to be able to escape in a hurry, if needed. And to avoid accidentally Apparating in next to one of the Quintapeds, the researchers picked up the habit of popping out in midair, then mounting their brooms before they hit the ground." A strained chuckle unexpectedly slipped its way out of Minerva's throat. "I have the feeling the boys are going to want to try that trick out once they're feeling better."
She gave a hopeful glance at Camden, but he didn't move. Only his breathing showed he was alive.
"The creatures, Quintapeds, they're called, are unique to the island. Legend has it that there was an argument between two wizard clans a few centuries ago and that one Transfigured the other into these hairy five-legged monsters, following which, the Transfigurers were wiped out by the Transfigurees. No way of knowing whether it's true or not, but the Quintapeds are unique in that they attack wizards above all else. They may not be the most deadly magical creatures in existence, but they're certainly up there. The Research Station was established both to study the creatures and to rescue anybody who managed to find their way onto the island despite the wards. The boys got very lucky."
"It wasn't only Terry who did magic, by the way; Neville seems to have conjured himself a shield at one point. Augusta had already left by the time one of the twins thought to mention it; I'll have to tell her in the morning. She'll be over the moon," Minerva added thoughtfully.
Still no reaction. Minerva sighed and went on, knowing that he knew all of this already, but not sure of what else to do. Besides, it helped settle her own roiling thoughts, which were only worsening as she slowly neared the topic occupying Camden. She badly wished she'd been there when the Auror had given him the news, but the twins had needed her. By the time Poppy had put the boys to sleep, her old friend had fallen into a reverie; which nothing seemed to shake.
"From what the Auror and I managed to get out from the boys; after he'd taken out Akira, Alec decided to finish off the people he blamed for the breakup." Camden shifted slightly. Encouraged, Minerva continued.
"We still don't know why he didn't do the job himself; perhaps he was too squeamish to want the blood on his hands. So he got the idea of dropping them off on the island and letting the Quintapeds do the dirty work for him. Big as that island is, the odds were very good they wouldn't have been found in time. Except the twins surprised him." Her throat threatened to close up again and Minerva flung herself to her feet to pace. If Mr. Filch hadn't taught them what to do...if he hadn't...NO! No, it didn't bear thinking of. If James hadn't bitten Alec and won them that initial distraction...if Terry hadn't followed up with that punch to the crotch...
...if Terry hadn't retained the wit to grab Alec's wand before running for it...
Camden's voice startled her out of her budding reverie. "They think there's a chance Akira might still be alive."
This was old news to Minerva, who had spent over an hour working with an Auror as they, as gently as they dared, forced the boys to relive their experience. Perhaps the most startling revelation had been that the spell that had taken Akira down had been red. While there were a handful of lethal spells with a red aura, the fact remained that a simple Stunner matched the evidence much better. Unfortunately, they were still at an impasse, as the young Healer was missing. The boys vaguely remembered her being Transfigured into something metallic, but a search of the field and even of Alec's remains had turned nothing up. And the clock was ticking…
Camden, flung his head up and gave Minerva a desperate look. "You're the Transfiguration expert, what's the longest you've heard anyone surviving after being changed into an inanimate object?"
"Nine days," came the grim answer.
"Nine?" he echoed, looking both hopeful and startled at the same time. "The longest I'd heard was six."
"Seventeen years ago, an eight-year old boy was Transfigured by his mother during a Lethifold attack. Sadly, she had never learned the Patronus spell and once deprived of its intended prey, the monster turned to her instead. By a minor miracle, the package containing their effects tore while being posted to their nearest relative and the man working in the post office realized there was something slightly wrong with the cauldron that fell out. The boy spent several months in the hospital, but made a full recovery."
Camden's mood fell again as fast as it had risen. "But first we have to find her." There was a long silence, which he finally broke with the air of someone desperately looking for something else to think about.
"The boys are going to be pretty nightmare-prone for a while. If you like, there's an old Variation on a Memory Charm…"
"NO!"
Camden jerked back in shock at her explosion and came close to hitting his hand on a nearby bed-lamp. "Whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed once he'd recovered his balance. "I said a variation, not an actual Memory Charm. This one doesn't get rid of the memories; it just makes them seem less important. Shoves them a bit farther back, that's all."
"Oh sure," Minerva snarled, "just 'makes them seem less important'." The strain of the last several hours suddenly snarled and flared up into anger. "They're going to need to face their fears and come to terms with them, and blocking the memories is not the way to go about it! Yes, they're going to have a rough time for a while, believe you me, but when it's over they'll be the stronger for it. Memory Charms take a toll on the mind at the BEST of times! And you want to put one on children?!"
"So you'd rather they suffer through nightmares and Merlin knows what else? Camden demanded. "They. Were. Nearly. Murdered! Alec suffered a particularly nasty death for which the boys are partly responsible, NOT that I feel they are in any way to blame," he put in as Minerva choked over words so outraged that she was having problems getting them out. "As for Memory Charms damaging the mind, that is complete poppycock! You certainly aren't having any issues!"
The words seemed to hang in the air.
"That had better not mean what it sounded like," Minerva finally said in a freezing tone so quiet even their ragged breathing tried to drown it out. Camden opened his mouth, but paused. An eternity later he shook his head to whatever he'd been planning to say and closed his lips once more. His already whitened face had taken on a hue like that of a corpse.
"When?" Minerva finally asked, still in that same quiet, deadly tone that was born of the block of ice that had taken hold in her chest.
"Four years ago," he admitted, "After the twins ran afoul of that kraken. You remember? They were fine; as far as they were concerned they fell asleep one place only to wake up in a strange bed. You were the one who was a nervous wreck; constant nightmares, never letting them out of your sight, agonizing over how you could have let it happen, or what could have happened." He was pleading now, begging for her to understand.
"A 'nervous wreck' for all of…" she cast her memory back, seeking that one that didn't want to come forward, "two days."
She had been going to ask, anyway, but Camden volunteered the information on his own. "I slipped into your room while you were sleeping that night. I swear to you; that is all I did. And I have never cast it on the twins."
"Not even after my bout with encephalitis?" It seemed somehow important to be sure.
"No. I mean, they were having issues at first, but they got loads better after Akira," he flinched at the sound of her name, but went on, "explained viruses to them and how diseases could be prevented by washing." Minerva remembered the boys' 'clean phase' very well, which had lasted slightly less than two months before their scare had eased enough that they'd gone back to being their normal rowdy, dirty selves. They'd never protested bathing as much after that, though.
"Get out," Minerva finally whispered. Her voice cracked and she pummeled it back under control. "Get out, and don't come back."
For a moment she thought he was going to protest, but then he finally turned and walked towards the door, moving like a sleepwalker. Once there, he hesitated, then half-turned. "Minerva, for what little it's worth, I'm sorry. Please believe me; I never wanted to hurt you. I just wish…" He hesitated, then shook his head once more. The door clicked shut and he was gone.
He hadn't been this tired or this exhilerated since walking out of his last Hogwarts final several years ago. Long months of endless research; learning how to answer detractors; for that matter, learning how to chat people up at all; was finally starting to bear fruit. Remus Lupin, werewolf, was ever-so-slowly edging his way into the public eye, and so was his message. Only today he'd found himself speaking at a banquet held by the London Debate Club and he rather felt he'd acquitted himself well, if the number of people who'd come up to have a private talk with him afterwards was any indicator. Even Ebenezer Conrald had admitted that he was finally starting to shape up a little.
Remus chuckled to himself and bounded up the last few stairs to his appartment. A somewhat annoyed-looking owl looked up as the door swung open and clacked his beak.
The message freed, the owl took off out the window as though it was afraid Remus would want to keep him there. The letter itself had no return address, or any writing on the outside, for that matter. Remus shrugged to himself, it was probably more hate mail. Still, he made a point of reading everything he got, so he slit it open. The single line of text inside had no author listed, but Minerva's handwriting practially jumped out at him.
"They're both wizards."
Remus very slowly collapsed backwards onto the ricketty sofa. One hand gently smoothed the letter as his gaze drifted to the barren opposite wall that looked as though pictures might have hung on it at one point. His smile felt as though it would split his face.
The castle brats were just going to have to run amuk for one night, Argus just didn't feel up to going out and hunting them down. It was amazing how quickly news traveled around the castle, it really was. Every single one of Argus' late-night group had been at his office within an hour of his return to anxiously ask about the twins, was it true that they'd been attacked by a herd of Acromantulas/Grims/Lethifolds, and were they all right? Argus had corrected certain misinformations and added in the news of Terry's magic and sent them on their ways again in the knowledge that this new news would quickly get distorted and create all new tales as it got passed from person to person. Eventually, he knew, one of Howart's legends would be of the day the castle had been attacked by one of Hagrid's escaped monsters and had been held off by a couple of passing children standing guard over the body of an unconscious professor.
He would have been more amused were it not for the two sleeping children several stories above him. Their lives would be hell for some time to come. He was just going to have to find a way to spend time with them over the summer. He'd lived through his own nightmares and he'd learned to cope; now it was time to pass it along.
A stray thought struck him and he paused varnishing the picture frame. The researcher who had contacted him had somehow gotten the idea that he, Argus, was the twin's father. Now how had that happened? Argus' gaze drifted upwards and to the south where the Hospital Wing resided, so many stories above.
He'd heard the downstairs clock chime one a while ago, but Neville still lay awake. The vaguely dragon-shaped shadow on the wall had scared him since he was a baby, his worst nightmares had always been it coming alive and chasing him, but tonight he kept finding himself looking over at it for reassurance. It was familiar, at least, and it wasn't showing any signs of wanting to get up and hunt him like the monsters had.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then hastily opened them again. When he closed his eyes he could see the monsters again, right in front of him and all around and he knew they were going to kill him. No, he didn't dare think about the monsters; think about the shadow and how it looked kind of like the mother dragon he'd seen last summer when some of the kids from Dragon Hall had snuck out to the moors to see her nest. Yes, yes; there was her mouth, caught just as it was opening…
She'd roared at them and lunged forward, the light reflecting off her dagger teeth and reddish-black scales making her seem even closer than she had been. Even the teenagers who'd taken him and James and Terry out there had been scared and they'd all piled back behind the hill and flattened themselves against the ground. She'd not left her nest though, and eventually they'd gotten back up and peered back over the crest.
She never took her eyes off them, but like the teenagers had said, she didn't want to leave her nest with her hatchlings so young. There was a squawking as one of the babies fell out of the nest and landed on its head. The mother hastily got up and nosed him back where he belonged, crooning as she checked him over to make sure he was all right. Inspection done, she settled down again and gently spread a wing over the nest. The hatchlings were safe under there; their mother would never let anything get them…
Neville watched the shadow with half-closed eyes, imagining what it had felt like to be that baby dragon. To be safe and warm, to know that she would never let anything near you…yes, he could feel her wing tugging him closer, protecting him…he could hear her crooning…
The moon rode across the sky as Neville slept, but the nightmares left him alone; the memory of a black mother dragon standing watch over his sleeping form.