"What were you trying to do Mrs Lupin? Fly? Were you testing the air speed? Checking the gravitational field strength?"
On the uneven, cold rock level with the castle walls Cecilia sat, where she had just been placed from the wizard's spell that had just saved her life, her mind dazed as she looked around her, letter to her son still in her mouth. What had just happened?
"What?"
"Is your broom invisible, perhaps? If you employ a hovering spell, you would, I think, have more luck." Cecilia looked up, the evening sun, low in the horizon, beamed its rays through the gaps in the sharp, jagged rocks above his head, causing her to blink a few times, then rub her eyes, pulling down Septimus's letter to her side.
"Mrs Lupin?" The wizard stooped, his frame bending lower to get eye level with her, at which Cecilia got unsteadily to her feet. He extended a hand, which she took.
"Thank you...no...I was..." she could feel her heart beating in her chest, the adrenaline finally getting to work on her organs and she stuttered to silence as her legs began to shake." Flight or fight. Her legs wanted to do the former, and she was trying to fight the urge. She looked down at her hand in which Septimus's letter was crumpled.
"Thank you, again, er...Professor...?"
"Lindvald Halen," corrected the wizard, steadying her elbow. "And you should be more careful, Mrs Lupin, the cliff path down needs to be picked more precisely. I may not be around again should you not be able to shout your own spell."
Cecilia stared back at him, frowning a little as his face settled into a smile. She hadn't seen much of this wizard; the teachers at Durmstrang barely made it out of their rooms, or classrooms, wherever they had been researching. She smiled back, a little unsteadily.
She was about to ask him about his own reason for being out on this lovely Sunday afternoon, or how he was liking teaching at the school but, as she searched for the words, she heard a shout from behind her. Turning, Cecilia saw a figure haring out over the rocks, picking her way nimbly.
"Cecilia? I heard a scream. Is everything all right?" The tall truthteller embraced her, and took her by the hand with, what Cecilia noticed, a stark, enquiring look at her rescuer.
"Ragnhild! I'm...well. Thanks to Mr. Halen." The wizard nodded his head, silently.
"You're shaking! I'll take you indoors; you don't want to risk any more falls," she added, sweeping her inside.
Back in Professor Andersson's classroom Cecilia sat, shuddeing a little as the shock of what had just happened disspated. Her stomach felt tender, as if she was going to be sick. How had she managed to fall? Why didn't she think?
Cross with herself at her desperation to get her letter to Septimus, Cecilia wondered whether, if she had had the presence of mind to have done so, she could have saved her own life with a spell had not that young wizard been around. Perhaps not, she added, as Ragnhild handed her a steaming mug of camomile tea. She had never been able to do more than a levitation spell, or get the fire going in her classroom or bedroom. Her spells were useful, but not lifesaving.
"Just try to rest, Cecilia," soothed Ragnhild, sitting by her as Cecilia drank deeply from the cup, cuddling her shoulders as she did so. "What ever were you trying to do?"
"Trying to get down to the owlery. I knew if I took the inside passage it would take a long time. I wanted Septimus to have a letter."
"You miss your son," finished Ragnhild, holding onto her hand. "As I miss Crystallia. We do as we must for our children. Do you still have your letter?" Cecilia pulled it out of her pocket, into which she had stuffed it a few moments before.
"I will take care of this for you. I will send my own owl with this. Please, try to be more careful, Sissee. Your son would like to have you in one piece, I think, and not brought home from here having passed to the afterlife?" Cecilia looked at her, then nodded, the witch's angular features bending into a warm, beautiful smile.
"That wizard who saved my life, Lindvald Halen...you looked at him as if you knew him?" Ragnhild shook her head.
"No. I don't know him. It's my condition. If I was cold towards him and unfeeling it was because I must close my mind. He is a new person here and I could feel my Seeing change. Unless I ignore it my mind will be filled with divinations. Meeting someone new makes me feel...uneasy with the world. More truths come to mind than I want to know, or can deal with at once."
Cecilia inhaled deeply, the steam from the tea soothing her face and her hands, as well as her somach. She was so happy to have Ragnhild there, and yet, probably for the first time in her life, that she needed to be away from this, from this thing called magic. She needed to be more like Petunia, and keep herself to herself. Not isolation. But
"I hear you thoughts, Sissee," said Ragnhild at length, dropping her arm from around Cecilia. Cecilia looked into her face, one of wisdom, one of her own age, forty-one, yet, unlike her own, Ragnhild's features were lineless, her skin like silk. "You should not worry. You have a good deal to do, and it is on your mind. I believe you weren't concentrating as you should on the dangers outside the castle."
Cecilia looked at her friend. While Ragnhild could see the future, she was also good at discening meaning from events. It was more than likely; she was thinking about Septimus, getting back to him and what she must do in the confines of the school and not about the eight-hundred foot certain-death drop below her.
"I am so old, Ragnhild," Cecilia sighed, her heart beginning to thump in her chest again. "Working like this, worry keeping me from sleep...working here...teaching..." She looked at the witch, wondering whether, though she may know what Cecilia was about to say to her, she would understand what she meant.
"What will happen with the children in your lessons tomorrow will happen, no matter how hard you work trying to perfect everything. You work too hard. The children are spoiled here, spoiled and petulant. They know nothing of gratitude or appreciation. Their lives have just been a path down which they walk. Teach them, just don't doubt yourself – you punish yourself unnecessarily."
How did she -
- know? Cecilia chuckled, chidingly, at herself. Because Ragnhild Andersson was a truth teller!
"Rest, let your mind focus on something else. You are not old, but your life is hard, and you've had to make difficult choices. You have been promised liberty from here, haven't you? Once you have completed your work?" Cecilia nodded. Ragnhild drifted her hand horizonally over he cup that Cecilia was holding and the now-tepid beverage was steaming hot, and topped back up.
"I'll take you back to your room, and you must promise me you'll sleep, or at least rest and do no work at all."
88888888
A second Sunday sleep. This time, rather than the glow of an early sun leaking its rays over the landscape it was night time. Against all odds Cecilia had slept, her mind drifting to, alternately, her fall, Septimus, her being here again still, Remus, in whose name she had vowed she would help. Severus Snape, who was supposed to be bringing Lily Potter to speak to her, or at least silently give her the work via floo. Caelius.
He had promised she would return, return to Septimus and real life and Remus. Her eyes, in the darkness that they were scrutinising, picked out main features of the room. Her head wanted her to be there now, to complete the work. Instead of just finishing it Cecilia still hadn't begun.
Th fireplace glowed green shortly after she awoke, at nearly eleven that night. Cecilia expected to see Snape with the information she needed, but instead it was Petuna. Trying to hide her disappointment as the few hours' sleep she'd had had perked her up, Cecilia banished all thoughts of vampirism and Septimus, smiling a happy smile towards her friend.
"And, how do you feel now?" Petunia asked, "are you well?"
"Not bad," admitted Cecilia. "Perhaps this old woman needs glasses now so she can mind her step. How are things with you?"
"I am quite well," Petunia replied, "as is Regulus. Dudley has made it into British Floo with his father - I'm so proud of him! Especially now there's been a ban on pensieve communication. They've let the children use them a little at school, but I expect that they'll put a stop to it soon."
"Oh?"
"Security. Oh, Cecilia, you wouldn't believe how terrible the situation is: conjurists professing their twisted beliefs; those like them only non-wizards...there's even wizards who are against the conjurists...Newers, they're called!"
"Non-wizard reciprocators?" asked Cecilia, leaning towards the emerald floo-light in the darkness.
"You've heard of them?"
"Aberforth told me they used to work with the reciprocators. But not for a good many years. I think he said they'd disbanded."
"Well, it seems they've revived. And they've been joined by wizards who appear to want to be seen being entirely against the conjurists. They all spend a lot of time protesting with placards in city centres of a weekend, camping out in the park near the Ministry's building in London."
"Are they doing any good?"
"Making headlines," replied Petunia, smiling. "There were a lot of newspapers sold on the day some of them did a protest in the nude, with placards in strategic places. That raised a good deal of interest, but I can't say that a lot of it was for their cause. Quite a lot of them have set up a peace camp at Greenham common. It's causing both governments a bit of a headache," she added, smirking a little. Cecilia smirked back, rubbing her head with the pads of her fingertips. Somehow, something didn't feel right and it didn't go unnoticed by Petunia.
"You need to rest, Cecilia, let the effects of your fall go. Let everything that's worrying you, or you'll be no good to anyone."
"You're the second person to tell me that today," Cecilia mused, pushing at her scalp again.
"It's not just that," Cecilia continued. "Snape promised that I'd get the information I needed to continue with the interpretation of Auld Magic. He said that Harry'd be coming, not Lily. I - " She broke off, thinking of the letter that Raghild had offered to send on her behalf.
"Septimus," half-guessed Petunua, her face one of sympathy. "He's doing well," she added. "Him and Darren are friends Cecilia, isn't that something? They're getting very excited about the Halloween Games. If only they got this enthusiastic about their lessons..." Petunia's attempt at small-talk fell to nothing and she waited for Cecilia to say something.
"What did Lily get her award for, Pet? She was acclaimed for it, wasn't she, for her talent or her skill. Is she that important that she has withheld the information from me? That she or Snape won't tell me what I need to know to make progress?"
"I don't think that's true," replied Petunia evenly, her dark hair bobbing as she spoke. "Didn't you say that Snape said it was Harry? You're better off with him," she added wryly. "Do you really want my sister lording it over you?" Cecilia had to admit her friend had a point.
"So, I'll leave you to sleep, Cecilia," continued Petunia. "I'm so glad that I'm managing to talk to you," she added. "Smart, funny, handsome...and brilliant with the floo. Done something no-one else has managed, it's brilliant!" Cecilia was about to ask what, but Petunia was in full flow. "So glad I married Regulus Black." Cecilia smiled. Whatever happened, she was always pleased when Petunia joked like that. It reminded her not to feel sh was alone. And then, Petunia put her hand into the fire. "Floo nudge, Cecilia," she said, her friend's fingers appearing to show proud of the outer perimeter of the flame. Hastily, Cecilia leaned into the grate and felt for it. When their fingers touched, though, Cecilia was sure she sensed matter, flesh and bone, just for a few seconds.
"Sleep, my dear, " soothed Petunia, who withdrew her hand quickly. Cecilia too pulled it back – the gesture, though short, seemed to take up a lot of energy and her muscles felt tired. "You've had a shock. It'll all seem so much better in the morning.
When Cecilia awoke again it was nearly morning. Whether Snape, with Septimus or with Harry, there didn't seem to be any attempt to contact her. Nothing.
The cross feeling Cecilia took to her first lesson of the day. Uncharacteristically she had organised three lessons for that day, three lessons where at least she wasn't going out of her mind with worry, or lack of progress.
As the children departed her third lesson of the day, Cecilia felt herself getting crosser and crosser as she caught parts of the detailed conversation two of the fifth years were having rather loudly around her. John Cook spoke about "them and us" and it was quite clear to Cecilia that the "them" he was talking about were wizards. Wizards over whom they were superior, in skill, talent, or abiliy. Such people, Cook continued, should realise that their constitutional responsibility: if they weren't as good as the Durmstrang students, or any other wizard for that matter then the worth of their vote at any election should be reduced accordingly. Then came "better sort" and "entitlement" and at that point Cecilia ended the lesson about condensation polymerisation reactions and DNA structure as they went. It was more how they talked about wizads, not the words they used and it was beginning to dawn on Cecilia that her beautiful Septimus, and all of the wizards and witches at Hedgewards past, and present, were generalised as being in the "them" category.
Her mood didn't lighten either as she paced around her room: Cecilia had felt the need to walk right back into the classroom and lock the door, something inside irking her about her lack of progess. There was nothing to be done for she had no material or anything to progress on. But at least she could do something of use for herself, even if was reorganise her stock-cupboard. And she might be able to get over feeling like this.
Her fury had subsided by the time she had put her hand on the iron handle of the thick oak door, having brushed aside some third year students who thought that she may be opening up for a lesson. She did, however, tell them to return in the morning and added "porphyrin analysis" to the list of classes available for Tuesday.
Then she closed the door, her back to it and she leaned heavily. Caelius really knew how to torment her, didn't he? Dangle the carrot so close to her face that Cecilia could almost smell the retinol, but add a thick wall between it and her, one which needed specialist tools which were not hasty in forthcoming. Even her chance to contact Septimus had been thwarted.
She looked around her classroom. Cold, dark, it was the perfect place to store reagents of all kinds. Cold preserved, this was well known. Stepping over to her desk and pulling open the drawer at the bottom she rummaged amongst parchments and papers, discarded glassware, measuring items that would one day come in useful again. Nothing here would move her on, Cecilia knew. She's used all the ideas she had here. She needed new material, new raw material that either Snape, or Harry, or Lily possessed. Unless she had that, she'd never leave.
Cecilia lay her head on it, left ear to the solid, lifeless oak. Severus knew how she felt! Septimus said that he did...but saying and feeling were two disconnected events in the mind of a boy. She thumped the desk, hard, her accumulated frustrations flowing out of her as it met the immovable surface.
"And what did that table do to you?" Slowly, Cecilia raised her head. "How are you feeling, Mrs Lupin?"
"Professor Halen?" I thought I'd locked the door, Cecilia thought. But the presence of the wizard didn't seem hostile to her; she didn't feel defensive.
"And how do you feel, Mrs Lupin?"
"Better," Cecilia conceded, smiling a little at the wizard's own smiling face. "Thank you for, well, saving my life."
"It is no trouble at all. I wouldn't have wished for you to have been dashed into a thousand pieces on those rocks. How was your day?" He appoached the table and perched on the edge. "Tea?" he added, as he waited for her to reply.
"That would be good," Cecilia nodded. "It was...well...it could have been better. I've a lot on my mind." The understatement of the century. She watched as the wizard got to his feet, drew his hand horizontally across the wood of the table, a tray of cups, saucers and teapot appearing in its wake.
"Milk and sugar?" Lindvald Halen began to pour the tea and gestured to them. Cecilia shook her head. "Black," she nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Halen."
"Call me Lind," nodded the wizard. "Lindvald Halen. It's good to meet yesterday's damsel in distress."
"Hardly a damsel," Cecilia replied as the steam from her cup rose high into the cold air of her classroom. "Forty-one, just gone." And you look about twelve, she thought to herself, a little disparagingly. "How do you like your move to Durmstrang from..."
"Beauxbatons," filled in Lind. "It is...different. Durmstrang students are autonomous here, as are the staff; the French school is more...collaborative. Wolfgang Broeck felt I had the necessary skills for the job, and offered to the President at the European Council to take on only wizards with a specialist skill, given the nature of the school. However, I fear it was my request have information shared amongst researchers that prompted the European president to make it compulsory."
Ah, that was you, was it, thought Cecilia, darkly. A right kettle of fish you opened there, if you did.
"How long have you been here?"
"Two years, on or off," replied Cecilia, trying not to let the bitterness that she felt due to her circumstances come out. "The school were in desperate need of a teacher of non-wizard studies. I fitted the bill, and was in need of employment." The words at this point, which she wanted to say, that were screaming out from behind her larynx about Caelius and blackmail she hurriedly swallowed down along with a sip of tea, just to make sure it stayed hidden.
"Did you attend Beauxbatons, Lindvald? Was that your school?" She leaned forward and smiled as the steam from his own tea began to fog up his spectacles.
"I never went to school, learned everything at home."
"But you work at Beauxbatons?"
"I went there at the end of what would be the first NEWT year, when I was sixteen. I had learned everything I could from my surroundings my family spoke to the headteacher. If I was to progress I needed to take on formal study. I completed both years of work in nine weeks. It was then I began to teach. They were in need of a teacher of the natural laws of magic."
"And now you're here?"
"Yes. A change is as good as a rest, wouldn't you say? How about you?"
Cecilia paused. Ragnhild, the truthteller that was more isolated than ever a teacher could be, and taught only three of four lessons every term knew why she was there. But here was a new person, one who had nevertheless saved her life, but with whom, her brain reminded her, despite his personable nature and clear intellect, should be treated cautiously.
Anyway, Cecilia thought darkly, what about me? Auld Magic, and a vampire potion. Or kicking my heels until Caelius deigns to have me back.
"Science," she replied, "advanced principles. Chemistry...biology...physics..."
"Science!" Lindvald exclaimed, grinning widely. "Then you will understand when I tell you how I learned magic! On the farm, where I grew up and my parents taught me, I was a very poor student, I have to say," Lindvald grinned over the rim of his teacup. "However I was a very good observer of the world. I felt it; I heard it...when I'd lie on the open hills, I could hear it singing to me...well not exactly singing," he concededed, as Cecilia frowned, doubtfully. "But being...just being. Being alive, if you like, but rocks and minerals – everything. Everything has a vitality. I soon found that spells tap into this, they utilise this. And it was in this way that I learned. So," he paused, placing down the cup upon the saucer. He had magicked a very smart one; porcelain it seemed, with a very classy grey stripe just under the rim and around the edge of the saucer, the line itself edged in gold.
"The energy from spells, of course they obey the wave equation, but they also obey the idea of energy being quantised. It wasn't until I got to Beauxbatons that I'd heard about science, and from then on I had a framwork, from the non-wizard physicists. It was the words to the thoughts I've always had. Seeing the effects of them, the move here,not ideal, but it is the highest concentration of what is sometimes known as "pure magic" cold conditions, wizards of "purest" blood carrying them out. If anything can be used as a standardised reading, this place – Mrs Lupin I apologise." Lindvald broke off, his brow furrowing and Cecilia realised that she was also frowning, and staring back at him too.
"I have only just introduced myself and look, you know everything about me. Please excuse my forwardness." Cecilia smiled, putting down her cup also. It was usually her who went babbling on.
"That's quite all right," replied Cecilia. "It makes a change to hear someone talking about something in this school other than work. I've had my fill of silence.
"So, do you like this history of science, Mrs Lupin? The history of your disciplines? I met- I knew of a very famous scientist that you would undoubtedly have heard about, Isaac Newton?" Cecilia nodded, folding her fingers. So, just what was this young wizard about to tell her about one of the most famous scientists in history that would astonish her?
"History of science...history of magic. It's just all the same, isn't it? Just different people growing together? Our similarities are most important, wouldn't you agree?"
"Indeed," replied Cecilia, thinking about the particular science history that had put her where she was right at this moment. Too many differences there...and yet other scientists and wizards had seen to it that collaboration between them would continue.
"Some would say it was because Hooke developed calculus first that Newton took against him. I say, was it just as straightforward as Hooke was having an affair with his wife?" Lindvald's face became twisted into quizzically. Cecilia frowned. What did he mean? If he knew anything about scientific history it was because Hooke also took his place in the Royal Society. She was about to correct him, that Newton never married and was a recluse for most of his life, but then the humour of it hit her. She smiled widely, acknowledging the joke.
"Have you made a lot of headway? Developed any new spells?"
"Yes...and no...I think I have a lot to do."
"It doesn't help with the attitude of the children here."
"The children here are a product of their upbringing, and being here does not help. That job is ours, is it not, to educate them, to understand this? You are probably the most important person for that job, Mrs Lupin.
Hey, one side of her brain thought. You're only a baby. How dare you lecture me about what you think is the most important thing to do. The other enthusiastically agreed with his point.
"And your research?"
"It's complicated," replied Cecilia, trying not to sound guarded. "I am at a brick wall, thousands of feet high, and the tools I need to get me over it are on their way. Delayed by several months and it's getting...rather annoying, if I'm honest."
"I have that feeling all the time. Well, he said, setting down his cup and backing towards the door, you seem better now, and the table's not suffering." Cecilia smiled. "It's been good talking to you, Cecilia."
"You too, Lindvald," she replied as he stepped lightly across her room. As he closed the door her mind replayed what he'd told her about his work. As she too departed, back to her room and to prep some more lessons for the next day, she smiled inwardly at the very unexpected, pleasant conversation she had had with the young man.
88888888
"Snape! Is Septimus with you?" After silence for nearly forty-eight hours the floo-light in Cecilia's bedroom fireplace crackled into the image of her former work-colleague a mere five minutes after returning from her classroom. She drew herself to it, wondering why her ancillary magic, temporary as it was, didn't extend to being able to keep her room at an acceptable temperature.
"I heard of a fall – are you well?"
"Yes." Cecilia's answer was sharp and curt. "I'm fine," she added, hoping that would satisfy. "Just a few scrapes and bruises."
"But you fell over a cliff!"
"Luckily, a colleague of mine was there, a new wizard? By the name, would you believe, of Lindvald Halen. Have you heard of him?" There was a small pause, before Snape continued.
"Only by name. He was the wizard that the headmaster, Wolfgang Broeck took on instead when they sent Felixssohn to us. We tried to send Struan Crowfoot and John Huxley-Baird but the but the headteacher said no, he needed specialists. Well, we all knew what that meant: I was glad it was Caelius who told them. He was very diplomatic, and still they caused hundreds of galleons-worth of damage to the staffroom nonetheless."
Cecilia smiled for a moment. Hundreds of galleons-worth of improvements, surely? Cecilia thought wryly. And then her heart, filled with the frustrations of the day...of the days.
"Is Septimus with you?" Snape shook his head. "I can arrange for you to speak to him later in the week? Would that suit you?" Cecilia felt her head sagging at her disappointment, and she looked at the flagstones. There was only one question she wanted to ask, and that was, "How is he? Remus? I cannot stop thinking about him, Severus!" She could feel the dread anticipation in her shoulders and head, waiting for either elation or despair.
"Have you made any progress?" she pressed.
"From the adjustments you suggested, we have the correct energy for the potion. The vector, and I do think it must be parasitic again, given how a vampire is drained of its energy. I still believe you're right: it must be adapted for the vacancy of the cell in the red blood, it must be draining the victim of its oxygen. Sunlight must affect the parasite, perhaps ultraviolet radiation from the sun. A certain wavelength and frequency, too much for the host to cope with. I agree with you that the skin lightens to allow for absorption under low light levels of Vitamin D. Clever. Biology and the process of adaptation...beautiful."
There was silence. After a time, Severus Snape continued, "What have I said wrong, Cecilia?"
"Nothing," Cecilia replied. "Nothing...I..." She bent her head, the feeling of dread and emptiness that she was where she was, with her husband so, so ill, with Septimus so far from her.
"You've had a shock – look..." he looked pitifully at Cecilia through the flames, "you nearly plunged to your death." Cecilia looked at Snape as he tried his best at comforting words.
"Septimus," sniffed Cecilia, swallowing down her feelings, "I need to see him, I need...my beautiful boy..."
"Its nearly midnight. Septimus will be asleep, or at least he should be. In the morning, then? Before morning lessons?" Cecilia nodded.
"I wonder, could your fall be to do with your proximity to such intense magic? I mean to say, Neville Longbottom's research, and with the students who are leaving next week. His work suggests a vastly reduced lifespan. You need to be careful, and - "
"Why?" demanded Cecilia, feeling the damming of the floodgates being released again. "What exactly does that matter? I never was ill at Hedgewards!" Or Hogwarts, she continued, as a silent rage, the silence probably meant very little as Severus Snape was a master at legillimency.
"And I have to earn my way back to my family, with no help from you, as you promised! Why me? I'm no-one of particular magical skill or ability! Haven't any other wizards, or non-wizards for that matter, hasn't anyone ever thought of trying to cure vampires? You're telling me we are the only two people ever to think about this? Because, it's only circumstances, Severus, as well you know, that lead me to be here, not talent. There are far more eminent biologists alive who could think about this!"
"But none so unique, Mrs Lupin," replied Snape, tersely. "You are a product of your experiences, and your experiences span...dimensions...? We can only do what we can. And you are right, no-one else has considered it. Vampires by nature become arrogant upon infection and avoid human contact. They believe themselves to be superior to even wizards, expecially if, in their previous life they were one. Remus is the first casualty to be in such circumstances that he can be helped." There was silence, punctuated only by Cecilia's own quiet sobbing.
"Cecilia, I have something to share with you Cecilia - I think you need to know th truth. We have known for some time now that Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore want to utilise the memories-store beyond the veil or their own nefaious purposes. Tabs is trying to find a way that this can be prevented. Only her, you can understand, because of her unique talent."
Cecilia nodded, looking up at her colleague and smiling a little. And then her face crumpled again at the thought of the veil. Was all this too much for her to take? Too much to carry on? Perhaps it was better that Caelius had dumped her here, as close to thowing away the key as he could be.
"What is the matter, Cecilia? Severus Snape leaned towards her, glowing green.
"Just...the waiting," she concluded, as she looked at him again. "I need all my strength just to hold this all together! And there's the students here! So bigoted! If I could only speak freely!These young witches and wizards, cream of magical ability, thtinking like this; having such opinions. And in just a few years they're all going to be in charge of one of the most powerful governments in the world!"
"Perhaps," soothed Snape. "But they soon discover that the world is not just Durmstrang or as how Durmstrangers see it. Hedgewards has our own wizards here who aspire to the European ministry."
There was silence. Cecilia conceded defeat. Just hearing the children at Durmstrang and hating what they were saying – put it out of your mind and do the job in hand.
"What did you find out from his DNA, Severus?" Cecilia took a deep breath and closed her eyes momentarily. If she were going to do that, whether she had thought it or she happened to be a victim of legillimency. "Are any changes occurring? Has anything happened to Remus yet physiologically? Because there must be a point in the metamorphosis where humanity ends and vampirism begins. And a point in the middle, a hinge. I wonder how far we are along that road?"
Severus Snape paused, considering the DNA traces he'd examined, particularly the one of Septimus. It was none of his business really, why it is that he'd discovered what the trace so clearly suggested.
"It seems Remus is still human, and the potion I have made has continued to allow him to remain so. The garlic, the allium satvum compound, has regulated the need for a blood transfusion; it suggests that the parasite's life cycle has been impeded. But it's not exacly analogous to lycanthropy. With that, the nitrate ions inhibit the water osmosis process in between cells - "
" - stops the breeding cycle - " murmured Cecilia.
" - yes, and the silver is enough of a toxin to eliminate the vector, the parasite that lives. Caelius, for example, still has parasite, but it is extinct. It isn't alive any more, and it cannot breed. Caelius can't become a werewolf. In fact he is just like a regular wizard - " Cecilia smiled wryly, and Snape returned the smile.
" - I mean, he has no symptoms of lycanthropy, and never will. He sometimes feels ill, as I his body's cells have changed in some way, and the lycanthropy potion helps alleviate thes. Sirius Black will also receive the potion that will cure him permanently once he is strong enough."
"So...the allium satvum," Cecilia was thinking now, all thoughts of emotion and upset gone from her mind, "this does what exactly? Some kind of chemical binding with the iron ions?"
"Yes," nodded Snape. "It means the parasite has no physical place to be in the red blood cell. Therefore it dies. But this can only work slowly because, while the sulphur ion binds with the iron one, there is no place for the oxygen to be. Remus would quickly die if it happened quickly."
"What about a total blood transfusion?" Cecilia was on her feet, slowly pacing now, reasoning aloud her ideas, her bare feet feeling the icy stones beneath far away in her mind.
"The parasite would simply reproduce and inhabit those cells."
"A quick one? Are there no healer spells that could immedately remove all of his blood, and replace it with a substitute?" It took a few moments for Cecilia to realise what she had said, a few moments to remember about the feeling that wizards had about blood.
"I only meant - "
"It's fine, Cecilia," replied Snape, evenly.
"Slowly, then, using allium satvum to eliminate the virus slowly."
"Red blood cells from the marrow are getting infected by ones still carrying the parasite. But slower, " he conceded, as Cecilia held his gaze.
"Then that is what happen, for now, till we can come up with something better."
"Indeed, Cecilia. Now, so that you can be in a fit state to talk to Septimus first thing in the morning, it would be a good idea to get some rest."
It would. That was all she could do, here, for Remus. In fact, it was all she could do anywhere. Even the wizard most talented and best place to help him had done all he could, for now."
"Don't doubt yourself, Cecilia. That place...it's twisted towards the bigoted. Don't let it get under your skin. Good night, Cecilia," finished Snape, and she turned to see that he hadn't gone from her fireplace. "I hope this has helped ease your mind, and you can focus on your teaching now."
The fireplace dimmed, and Cecilia closed her eyes. Teaching. She knew she had lessons for tomorrow, and that she could manage them. But that all of this was on her mind, so much that she had nearly died that night, was worrying her. Could she remain here? Could she continue to be a spy?
As Cecilia lay on her bed, she thought about this, and what Caelius had said to her. She was tying to get to the bottom of Auld Magic, and then, once she had done all she could, she would be able to return home. If there was anything that told her that at least one person believed she could do it, it was that she had two vials of potion under her bed made for a purpose that didn't exist.
She would do it, Cecilia promised to herself, she would find a way of getting over her feelings, that would be the speediest way out of here. Do it, she thought, for Remus, she told herself firmly. Do it for Septimus too. And whatever you do, don't heap this on the lad in the morning.
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5am dawned slower than she would have liked. Up, breakfasted by some very cheery house-elves and waiting, Cecilia thought on to the day's lessons ahead. Not for today – she needed time to get her head straight and make some proper plans for them – the last thing she wanted was to do anything that might arouse suspicions.
Half an hour later Cecilia had spoken to Septimus, her heart gladdening with each second she was on the telephone, hearing about his excitement at the forthcoming games. He was obviously excited; he had made friends, and was doing well. Soon, she hoped, she would be home with him, and this nightmare which was working at Durmstrang.
"Missing you, my love," Cecilia said, as it was time to go.
"You'll be back for Christmas, Mum? Calelius says you will," he added, as if to add more weight to the reply he wanted.
"I'm hoping that it will be far sooner, darling. Have you seen Dad?"
"Yes. He is still asleep. I wish he could be woken up."
"He is safe where he is. What more can we wish for than the finest potion-maker in the world to make him better?"
"To have the finest scientist this world has ever seen take possession of this." This time it was not Septimus who had spoken, but Severus. At the edge of the floo Cecilia could see the edge of something, a document, like a letter.
"But...but..." she remembered the potions Severus had sent her. They had taken an inordinate amount of energy to transmit. Yet these sheaves of paper seemed to be getting larger and larger in her fireplace, as if they themselves were actually appearing.
"It was Regulus Black who's done it," explaned Seveus. "From the idea of the floo-nudge. Don't ask me how – he is a genius, that man."
Cecilia stopped – the world stopped. As she watched the parchments fall out, and listened to Severus's overview a feeling of calmness overtook her. The tools she needed, to scale the wall thousands of feet high...
"Septimus go to get his breakfast now, Cecilia." Snape's voice cut trough the silence that was enveloping her as she began to read the parchments. "It is getting early." In realisation Cecilia put down the parchments and leaned in towards her son, a feeling that a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
"Septimus, sweetheart, I love you. You have fun; be safe."
"See you soon, mum."
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As Cecilia lay on her bed, thinking about the events of the last few days, thinking about the Auld Magic, thinking about Lindvald Halen and her fall, thinking about how she had finally, finally got what she needed to continue and the advances she thinks she had made for her beloved husband, said beloved husband was still lying alone, unconscious and incapacitated in the coldness of the critical ward at St. Mungo's.
Well, not quite alone.
"I'm here, my sweetness. I'm here, holding your hand."
Tears were being absorbed into the bed linen as the person's emotions overcame them.
"I love you. I love you, and I always will."
