15
Several hours had passed, and to the best of her ability, judging by the way the outside world was still dark, given it was going on five in the morning, Albus and Remus were no closer to getting somewhere with the young blonde Muggle girl than they were when the chaos started and she fell through the ceiling of Grimmauld Place.
She hoped it would be relatively soon, as Molly had overheard Albus saying he and Remus would be heading to Azkaban to visit his wife and see what could be done to ensure her swift release and bring her home.
Molly Weasley was in the kitchen, the sleeves of her sweater overtop her housedress rolled up past her elbows, wand in hand while she supervised the washing of the leftover dinner dishes from the conclusion of tonight's Order meeting, her brows furrowed in a frown as she struggled to process this news.
Tonks had been falsely arrested and was being detained in Azkaban. Mrs. Weasley's ears perked up as the sound of heavy footfalls came towards the kitchen, and she turned, not bothering to stifle the small smile as she heard the cooing of baby Teddy in the crib that she had conjured from upstairs, alerted to the arrival of Sirius, Arthur, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, all of whom had exasperated looks on their faces, and none of them were looking pleased.
She paused in her task for a moment, listening with no small measure of curiosity as the small group conversed amongst themselves, particularly Hermione as she talked in hushed tones amidst Ron and Harry's arguing to fill the pair of young men in over what had happened to Remus's poor wife.
Mrs. Weasley sighed, instinctively feeling her fingertips curl into a tight fist around the handle of her wand, fully prepared to subdue either one if they came to blows. Ron and Hermione's breakup had been particularly difficult.
But especially for poor Ronnie, who, judging by the look of things, was not pleased at all to see the way that Hermione's hand hovered on Harry's shoulder as the three of them sat down across from Arthur and Sirius at the kitchen table, though Ron pointedly chose to ignore it and stay quite silent.
Good boy, Mrs. Weasley thought, not even hearing herself breathe an audible sigh of relief, though her frown deepened as she noticed the darkened circles underneath Ronnie's eyes. He wasn't sleeping much these days, and though he would never dare come outright and admit it, Hermione breaking up with him was affecting him perhaps more than he would ever care to confess.
Mrs. Weasley heaved an exasperated sigh and joined the others at the table, plunking her wand on the table in front of her, just as Ron was in the middle of asking a question that he had posed to Hermione about the new girl.
Renee, the poor dear's name is Renee, Mrs. Weasley reminded herself, giving her head a tired little shake to clear her mind, casting somewhat apprehensive glances towards the entryway of the kitchen, hoping that the girl and Remus would be able to come to a mutual understanding with one another.
"Is she dangerous?" Ron asked, his ginger brows furrowed in a frown.
Sirius made an odd little noise from the back of his throat that sounded like a grunt. He snorted and rolled his eyes, a look of disbelief on his face.
"No, of course, she isn't bloody dangerous. The girl's a Muggle, Ron. What is she going to do to an entire group of wizards? Curse us all to death until she's blue in the face from how much she screams like a banshee?!"
Hermione shot Harry Potter and Teddy Lupin's godfather a dark look, her hackles raised as she suddenly came to the young blonde woman's defense.
"She—she doesn't know where she is, much less struggling to try to come to terms with the fact that magic exists," Hermione offered, ever the voice-of-reason between Ron and Harry, though she sounded, in Molly's opinion, rather cross. "She's confused, and Remus snapping at her did nothing to help the situation, though, from the looks of things back there, she'll talk to him eventually and make amends. We're going to need her memory before the night is out," Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, and tugging on her light blue blouse slightly as if she were hot.
Harry, Merlin bless his soul, shot his girlfriend a quizzical look, his brows coming together in confusion as he frowned, lost in thought.
"Why?"
Hermione's shoulders slumped forward in defeat, and Molly heard Hermione let out a haggard sigh, and when she lifted her face (they had been buried in her hands in exasperation at the turn the night had taken), she shot Harry Potter an incredulous look bordering on disbelief and a pitying look.
"Evidence, Harry!" she exclaimed, sounding on the brink of hysteria as she carded her fingers through the ends of her thick brown ponytail. "Tonks is falsely imprisoned for a crime that she did not commit, and if the Warden of Azkaban Prison, as well as whomever at the Ministry, was responsible for ordering her arrest is able to view both Tonks and Renee's memories from tonight, then they should have no issue about releasing her if they corroborate."
Hermione grumbled something inaudible under her breath, causing Harry to flinch away in antagonized hurt and surprise at Hermione's outburst.
A light pink blush speckled along Harry's cheeks and he murmured something unintelligible and proceeded to clamp his mouth shut and fell silent.
Mrs. Weasley's gaze continued to remain drawn to the entryway of the hallway that led into the kitchens, as though she kept hoping that Lupin's wife would materialize out of thin air and announce to everyone this was all a joke.
But when she did not, the weighted gravity of the situation suddenly hit Mrs. Weasley square in the chest with enough force to cause her to lean back in her chair and drown out the conversation among the others at the kitchen table.
The fate of Remus's wife now depended solely on Albus and Remus being able to calm down the young blonde woman in Headquarters' living room parlor long enough to hear her side of the story and extract her memory.
Molly could only hope they hadn't frightened the poor dear beyond belief, given all that she went through, and she hoped Tonks was managing ok. Mrs. Weasley squeezed her eyes shut and shot a silent prayer to Merlin above or whoever was up there that Tonks was coping well locked in Azkaban.
We'll get you out, Tonks, Mrs. Weasley thought silently. I promise…
This she vowed.
Renee nervously fidgeted with her fingers, casting cautious glances at Remus out of the corner of her eyes, playing with her pinkish tipped fingers to keep them warm.
"Soooo…" She drawled, watching as the woman's husband stared listlessly into the depths of the fireplace, his brows furrowed, looking utterly lost and confused, much like she herself was feeling at the present time.
She no longer knew how long the three of them had been sitting here, waiting for her to collect herself and gather her thoughts.
Remus Lupin did not appear to be, in her mind, all together entirely present in her conversation with this other strange man, Dumbledore, though she supposed she couldn't entirely fault him for that.
She would have trouble paying attention too if she knew someone she loved was rotting in a prison cell.
She slowly swiveled her head back around facing the front of her armchair, forcing herself to meet the elderly wizard's gaze. "Um, I suppose I should start at the beginning. R—right?" she stammered, fidgeting in her seat.
"That," Professor Dumbledore stated in his soft, quiet voice, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at the edges of his lips and flaring the whiskers of his beard upward, "would be a fine start in determining what has happened, yes?"
Renee nodded her agreement, leaning forward in her chair and shrugging into her black leather jacket for warmth as much as she possibly could, furrowing her brows in a frown, slumping her shoulders in defeat, wondering how the bloody hell to explain all of the crazy shit that had happened to her in a way that these—these wizards—could possibly come to understand her side.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, taking a deep breath. "Why is it, that no matter what I do in my life, even just waiting for the goddamned bloody train, I always manage to screw it up?" she growled angrily through her teeth.
Out of the corner of her vision, Renee saw Remus sanguinely lift his head and blink once, twice, three times and regard Renee's words with what she could only ascertain was an immense look of disapproval. She saw him part open his lips, as if to speak, and instead let out a sigh of frustration and chose to remain silent. He must have not been able to come up with anything to say to her that would help put her mind at ease after this horrible night she had endured, and as a result, had thought better of it, for he closed his mouth.
Dumbledore, if the man was at all confused by the young Muggle's words, did not allow his emotions to show on his face as he merely proceeded to look at the young blonde woman as though she were a fascinating specimen in a zoo that he had managed to capture and was not quite sure what to do with her, peering at Renee Barreau over the rim of his half-moon silver spectacles.
Albus sighed, lifting his glasses slightly to pinch at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before resting his hands in front of his lap.
No doubt, this little snafu was going to take some time to sort out.
"Please. You may begin to share with us your version of events whenever you feel you are ready." Dumbledore reached for his wand that he had perched on the armrest of his leather armchair, waving it once and conjuring three steaming mugs of tea, offering the first to Remus, who took it, but did not drink, merely proceeding to set it aside on a small wooden table nearest the fireplace, and remained fixated on Renee's questioning blue eyes.
The Hogwarts Headmaster made a visible show out of pouring one lump, two, and then three cubes of sugar into his teacup, waving his wand so that a spoon magically materialized out of thin air, causing Renee to jump.
She blinked, wide-eyed and watching in awe as the spoon proceeded to stir itself. The young blonde co-manager of the Broken Spoon Café swallowed.
"Sheesh. If our spoons could do that, they'd put me out of a job faster than I could blink an eye," she joked, her lame attempt at humor, and when neither Dumbledore nor Remus laughed, she let out a nervous little chuckle in spite of the trepidations she felt, reaching up a hand to tuck a stray wisp of her blonde pixie cut back behind her ear where it bloody belonged. "Just—just trying to diffuse the tension," she murmured, heat creeping to her cheeks.
"Please," Professor Dumbledore began courteously, peering at Renee Barreau over the rims of his silver half-moon spectacles. "You may begin your version of tonight's events whenever you feel that you are ready. While my colleagues and friends appear to have forsaken their manners, you may rest assured, my dear, that I, however, have not," he chortled, the edges of his beard twitching without him prompting it. "Do not allow Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin to intimidate you. Despite the way you were treated upon your most unorthodox arrival through our Headquarters' kitchen ceiling, they are honorable men."
Renee made a little noise at the back of her throat and scoffed, suggesting she did not particularly believe the Hogwarts Headmaster's words to describe how Sirius Black had treated her when she fell through the ceiling.
"Honorable?" she challenged, glancing towards Remus, who shot her an apologetic look for his best mate's behavior, though he offered up no verbal form of an apology. She huffed in frustration and looked to the fireplace. The young woman let out a tiny snarl and glowered into the flames of the fire, as though the hearth itself had done her some sort of disservice, just by existing.
Albus paused in mid-stirring of yet another sugar cube into his cup of piping hot tea, peering over his slightly crooked nose at Renee, an intrigued expression on his lined and weathered face, and Renee heard him give a sigh.
"If you are referring to Mr. Black, you need not concern yourself with him at the present moment, Miss Barreau, as I am afraid we have more pressing matters to concern ourselves with, being how it is, Remus, that your wife has ended up in Azkaban Prison," he murmured, swiveling his head slowly and turning to regard Remus out of the corner of his eyes through his glasses. Remus, Renee noticed, straightened his posture at hearing his name.
"Yes, Headmaster," Lupin managed in a barely audible and hoarse voice, though it did not escape Renee's attention that he shifted in his chair and turned to regard Renee with a curious yet hardened stare that she did not like.
Though after a rather long and somewhat awkward, uncomfortable silence, Remus Lupin spoke up, a tone much kinder and more subdued than before.
"Miss Barreau, you have literally fallen into a world not of your own kind, and we should like to do everything in our power to help you return home, however, before we can permit this, we need to ensure your safety. If you truly did catch a glimpse of the serial killer that is indeed making headline in your own society's papers, then there is a high likelihood your life is in danger, and as such, we must take every available precaution to ensure you remain out of the Morning Killer's sight. You'll be safe with us. I promise."
"Um, e—excuse me, Mr. Lupin, b—but… what?" Renee's question escaped her lips as a breathy little squeak. Renee blinked owlishly. She must not have heard this man correctly. The sheer audacity of this woman's husband and father of her child to even suggest that the Phantom, or Morning Killer, or whatever the bloody fuck he called himself, the sick psycho that he was, could be after her, Renee Elizabeth Barreau, a nobody, was absolutely insane. Crazy!
She—she wasn't anything special, what did a guy like that want with—
And then it hit her. She was, like it or not, a witness to the crime.
"Oh." She whispered it, realization hitting her squarely in the chest, and her chest heaved as she struggled to draw in breath as she knew why this man would take a sudden interest in her. If that had truly been him, a—a wizard, she thought wildly, her nervous eyes flitting from Remus to the aging old man in rapid succession, then he had seen her face, and she was now labeled a witness.
The visions of the Morning Killer's face from the alleyway flitted through her mind. She couldn't be certain at the time, though she swore she had seen John's eyes flicker from their usual cold, hard gawking blue, to a brilliant green.
She swallowed, wondering if the creep the London law enforcement was tasked with apprehending was one of these people.
"Oh, my…what if he's a wizard?" she squeaked, her heart thrumming against the confines of her chest, and she clamped a hand over her mouth in order to calm her racing heart. It all made sense now. "He—he has to be one of your kind, right? Th—that's why the—the cops can't find any physical evidence of how those poor people died," she breathed, her blue eyes wide and round. "Am…am I in danger? Oh, my God, he—he saw my face! I am in danger! The—the Phantom knows who I am!" she shouted, seizing on tufts of her hair, and tugging so damned bloody hard, Renee swore she felt the roots scream in protest.
She drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and nervously flitted her gaze from Dumbledore to Remus, searching for the truth.
The fact that both men merely proceeded to exchange a knowing, questioning glance with one another was not all together exactly reassuring.
Renee looked away from Albus and Remus for a good long moment, staring into the depths of the fire as though their piercing gazes did not bother her, though in actuality, it felt like their stares burnt a hole in her poor skull.
She blew out a puff of air with her cheeks, trying to will her pounding head to stop, and her poor racing heart to calm down before it gave out on her.
"Okay," she rationalized. "So….assuming that…this—this serial wizard knows who I am," Renee began, speaking slowly and cautiously, hardly daring to believe the words that were coming out of her mouth, and she repressed a shudder that threatened to travel down her chilled spine at the thought she was slowly but surely accepting the fact that wizards and witches were real here.
"Then you are in danger, and therefore, we cannot permit you to return home, my child. At least…not yet," Professor Dumbledore interjected kindly but sternly, his solemn words causing Renee's head to whiplash sharply up.
"Wh—what?" she squeaked. "B—but m—my brother, Billy! My—my cat!" Renee protested. "I—I have a job here in London, responsibilities, I—I would be missed at the restaurant I work at, and—and I—I can't just leave…"
Renee ticked each of her points, wildly gesticulating with her fingers, which both Professor Dumbledore and Lupin thought rather odd, exchanging a quizzical glance with one another.
This young blonde woman was a girl who articulated and chose to speak with her hands, most unusual behavior, but not entirely unheard of.
Her voice lacked the conviction to sell the argument she really needed to make, and her next words died on the tip of her tongue as Renee got a good long look at Dumbledore and Remus's sympathetic looks.
Looks, she confessed, she wanted nothing more than to wipe off both of their faces, but considering she was a—a what did they call me? She thought.
"Muggle, Miss Barreau," Professor Dumbledore piped up, his cobalt blue eyes twinkling infectiously as the aging old wizard took note of her shock.
Renee blinked owlishly at the old man and merely nodded. Right. A Muggle. A non-magic person, she thought, quirking a brow in suspicion his way.
He was a mind reader on top of being a wizard too?
"Is there anything your magic won't let you do?" she questioned, her curiosity getting the better of her despite her nervousness at being told she was not able to go home yet.
"Plenty, as it so happens, but I am afraid your question is immaterial to our discussion at this time," Professor Dumbledore offered curtly, though not necessarily unkind, though clearly quite eager to steer the topic back to their original subject matter of Renee describing exactly how she came to be here.
Renee felt her light blonde brows furrow into a frown. "Fair enough," she huffed in frustration, leaning forward in her armchair and propping her elbow up on one of the arms and resting her cheek in her right fist, frustrated.
The wizened old wizard with the egregiously long beard merely proceeded to offer the young blonde restaurant owner a surprisingly soft smile.
"Yes? I can sense that you are troubled and wish to ask us something."
"Well, I…" She paused, wondering how best to phrase exactly what was on her mind. Renee glanced down at her hands, which were resting on her thighs, her fingers giving spasmodic little twitches. "If I tell you exactly what happened to your wife, at least, what I remember from tonight, which," she huffed, "isn't much, Mr. Lupin, a—and I help you get Tonks out of jail, then will you help me get back home, and keep me safe from this—this Phantom?"
She hated that the authorities didn't have any identifiable name for the man who walked the streets of London calling himself The Morning Killer, supposedly after the first family he had ever killed at dawn on a Tuesday.
Though she was quick to surmise if that were the case, then the cops would have caught the creepy bastard already and he would be behind bars.
"Yes." It was not Professor Dumbledore who spoke and broke the silence first, but rather Remus, who, as Renee sanguinely lifted her head, was surprised to see was regarding the young blonde woman with a pitiable look.
Renee nodded, feeling a swooping, churning sensation in the pit of her stomach, though, she had one last question burning on the tip of her tongue.
"Where…if I—I can't go home yet, then where will I stay? I—I don't think I should go to any of the hotels around here, what if he finds me there?"
Remus Lupin exchanged a knowing little look with the older wizard, before giving a curt nod of his head and slowly shifting in his seat to look Renee in the eyes. "If you're comfortable with it, you'll be staying with me. My wife and I own a small cottage in the countryside of Wales. It's small, nothing to boast of, but it's home," he murmured. "I will ensure I do everything within my power to keep you safe, and there's something else…"
Lupin's gaze flitted towards Dumbledore, who gave a curt nod and pulled his wand from the night table that he had set it upon, letting out a haggard sigh as Renee instinctively flinched and shirked away, her back pressing into the backrest of her leather armchair as far as she possibly could.
"Relax, my dear," Professor Dumbledore uttered in what Renee could tell was meant to be a soothing tone. "If you are amenable to this arrangement, I think that it will be the safest, and we need your memories from tonight. Particularly your encounter in Echo Alleyway with the killer and Mrs. Lupin."
Renee exhaled a tense breath that pained her lungs, casting a wary, distrustful look towards the wand held in Dumbledore's withered hand as he approached.
"Wh—n—no, d—don't you want me to tell you what happened?"
The young woman decided she did not like the hardened edge to the Hogwarts Headmaster's tone, and Renee sharply turned her head to the left, suddenly afraid to look the old wizard in the eyes, fearful of what was to come.
"You could," Remus offered with a casual shrug of his shoulders, that in Renee's mind, suggested otherwise. "However, our Wizenga—I—I mean, our legal systems within our wizarding community," he began, flustered, immediately trying to correct himself by not using terms in front of the young Muggle woman that she would not understand, "is going to want to see for themselves what happened. This is the easiest way. Word of mouth, Miss Barreau, is as I am sure you have learned for yourself, rather unreliable."
"What if—what if I say no to—whatever this is?!" she squeaked, unable to stop the prick of terror that pierced her heart like a rusted old dagger.
"It will not hurt you," came Lupin's voice calmly, smooth, melodious and smooth as silk, and with her eyes closed as they currently were, Renee's first thought of the man was that had she never gotten a good look at his face, at the atrocious looking scars that marred what would have been a handsome face otherwise, then her first impression of the man's voice was that he would have made one hell of a radio voice.
His voice was soft, smooth as silk, and rich. The kind of voice a guy ought to have, Renee thought, a hint of admiration creeping its way into her thoughts, which she quickly brushed off.
No, her conscience swore, cursing her for her stupidity. This is dumb, this is wrong! You can't seriously be trusting the word of a stranger, Renee!
The other voice at the back of her mind, one who sounded entirely too much like her deceased grandfather for comfort, chimed in with his two cents.
Renee swallowed nervously, struggling to find her inner resolve and her voice. "What are you wanting to do to me with that? Is—is it going to hurt me?" Renee breathed, feeling her breaths coming to her in ragged gasps.
Remus said something, though his voice was muffled and faint, and all Renee could hear in response were her own breaths. They sounded too slow.
So slow, in fact, that if she had noticed someone else breathing so slowly, she might have feared for their health and gotten them a cup of water.
Was she really breathing that bloody slowly? She was surely going to die if she kept breathing like this. Renee drew in a breath and attempted to breathe quicker. Her lungs needed more than one damn breath per minute.
She felt like she was hyperventilating, having a panic attack, but the sound of her breaths, which she could hear all around her, were so damn slow.
No one could live while breathing like this. "I…" she stammered, though Tonks's husband spoke up and interjected before she could continue.
"It will not hurt," Remus spoke up again in a tone that Renee supposed was meant to be soothing. "What we are hoping to do if you would just allow yourself to relax is extract your memory of what happened in the alleyway. It's sort of like your Muggle video cameras in the shops you frequent. Think of what we want from you as a form of physical evidence. With your memory and my wife's memories combined in a device that we call a Pensieve, sort of like a TV that plays back old memories, like a record, it should be enough to secure my wife's release from prison. It is quite painless. You will not feel a thing."
"But why?!" Renee exclaimed desperately, bolting from her chair so fast to escape the man pointing his wand at her hand, praying he didn't kill her.
What if this was all just a bloody trap, and just like a gang or a cult, if they got what they wanted from her, they killed her in the end anyway, and dumped her chopped up body into pieces and threw it in the river somewhere?
Renee gesticulated wildly about the dimly lit living parlor with her hands, ticking off everything that had happened to her tonight.
They wanted the truth. These men wanted answers.
Oh, she'd bloody give it to them, then.
Things were not adding up at all, though Renee felt her temper surge to dangerous levels as her fear manifested itself as anger, as it always tended to.
"You want me to talk?" she yelled. "Fine! I'll talk!" she spat. "Let's see, where to start. I was waiting for the train. I took a shortcut through Echo Alley tonight to call a cab and try to beat the rain, when my ex-boyfriend John Newall cornered me in the goddamned alleyway and tried to almost rape me, but your wife," Here, she looked towards Remus with a wild, unhinged look in her eye, "saved my sorry ass tonight, and I don't bloody know how she did it! But then she said that John wasn't really John, and it was actually the Phantom, a—and before she could slap a pair of cuffs on the pervert, two of your people showed up and bloody arrested her, and she told me to find you and some guy called Moody and let you guys know what happened, before she made me step in a disgusting, filthy ass trash-can lid and I fell through your bloody ceiling!"
Renee's explanation left her lips as a strung-together, fragmented sentence, all in one breath and spoken quite fast, though she wasn't finished.
"And now," she shouted, her voice rising an octave as she wildly paced in front of the fireplace, still continuing to gesture like mad with her hands, "you're telling me this creep is not only after your wife, but me too?! I—look, Mr. Lupin, no bloody offense, you seem like a nice guy and all, but I'm not going to your home with you," she growled angrily. "I don't even know you!"
Remus was the first to break the stunned silence, and when he did, as he rose from his chair slightly in an attempt to calm her down in her distressed state, the man looked rather exasperated.
His scarred face twitched sporadically, causing the skin near his grotesque-looking scars to become pulled taut and tight, and Renee shirked away, thinking he looked…beastly.
He did not answer her, though he did shoot her a questionable look that Renee wasn't at all sure that she liked.
"You say that as if you have a choice." The edges of the man's voice were clipped and hard, his patience tested.
His light brown eyes flashed dangerously, and a strange, flickering fire of sorts danced behind his darkening brown eyes as he dared Renee to challenge him.
"I'm not going with you, Mr. Lupin! No matter if some pervert is after me, I'd rather take my chances out there on my own, guy! This has to be bullshit! I'm not going with you, Remus!" Renee bellowed, pointing a shaking hand towards the door, and pointing to it with her index finger. "I'm not going to go home with you! You're a stranger, and I don't know you, Mr. Lupin, and if I'm being perfectly honest with myself, I don't want to know you! No matter if I'm in danger," Renee whisper-hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm not going with you! I WON'T!" she screamed, balling her shaking hands into fists, and feeling her blue eyes darken until they were almost cerulean in color.
"My dear young lady!" Professor Dumbledore rose abruptly from his chair, his pristine gray robes billowing around him as he silently conjured some unseen wind that wafted through the room, tousling her blonde bangs off her forehead, causing Renee to shiver, though not from cold, but rather, from fear.
Several of the candles that had been lit on top of the hearth's mantlepiece as well as the chandelier hanging overtop their heads were all of a sudden extinguished, and as a result, plunged the entire living parlor into darkness.
Startled and terrified of the ancient old wizard in front of her, Renee let out a muffled yelp and stumbled backward in the vain attempt to put as much distance between the old wizard (if that was indeed truly what this was and not some horrible alcohol or coffee-induced nightmare she had yet to wake from!) as possible, though the young woman's husband slowly advanced.
Renee cursed and swore under her breath as she stumbled over the leg of the very armchair that she had just vacated, and she promptly lost her footing.
The young blonde fell back into the very same armchair she had just been sitting in, and collapsed back into the chair, a look of stunned disbelief on her face, her lips parted open slightly and a look of terror brimming in her eyes.
She swallowed as she gaped, open-mouthed at the pair of wizards. If the other man from earlier, what was his name?
Sirius Black, who had so violently threatened her life before and held her throat hostage with his own damn wand was terrifying, then she thought this was a hundred times bloody worse, then.
The Morning Killer, this guy, this Phantom, was after her, had no doubt seen her face in Echo Alley this evening, was after Lupin's wife, Tonks, too.
And to top it all off, they were asking her to go home with this man! Remus Lupin, although she guessed under better circumstances, was probably quite kind, was still nevertheless very much a stranger in Renee's life, and she could not—would not—put her trust in a man whom she didn't even know.
She had fallen through a bloody ceiling, magically transported to here, wherever 'here' was in London, unable to go home to her kid brother and cat, and was in no condition to call up their next-door neighbor in their flat's complex and explain why Renee might not be coming home, for several days, had her poor throat held hostage by that man with his wand, threatened, chased, interrogated, and now Renee could bloody add being told what to do and ordered to go home with a stranger to his house under the guise of being 'cared for.'
Oh, and being shouted at! What was it about tonight that sucked?
Why did God really hate her so much? What had she done to piss Him off, huh? Why was she here? Where was here? And don't even get her started on the whole 'witches and wizards' mess! Renee's mind felt like it was reeling.
Oh, my God, what if people in my life are secretly like these people?!
Confused wasn't even half of what Renee Barreau was feeling right now, and again, she felt the beginnings of hot tears pricking at the edges of her vision, stinging, and threatening to blind her if she could not tamper it down.
"Miss Barreau?" The magnificent voice that belonged to Remus, was quiet and non-judgmental, for which, at the very least, she was grateful for.
Renee flinched and drew in a sharp breath that sounded like a snakelike hiss as she felt the all too familiar touch of a hand on her left shoulder, and a light pressure that she was quick to recognize as Mr. Lupin squeezing onto it.
However, she shirked and flinched away, violently wrenching her arm away from the man's rough and calloused hand. She did not want this—this monster—touching her, and she did not raise her head from looking at her lap.
Renee just wanted to bloody be well left alone for the rest of the night.
She wanted to wake up from this caffeine-induced nightmare, because what the hell else could it be if not that? Or maybe John had drugged her somehow….
"Miss Barreau, please," came Albus Dumbledore's voice, soft and sounding somewhat ashamed. "I must apologize to you. Now it is I who have lost my temper with you. I should not have. It was incredibly rude and inconsiderate of me. I did not mean to disregard what you must be feeling."
Renee silently seethed, bristling at the old, aging wizard's apology, grinding her teeth so hard that she felt her jaw lock and she shut her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to raise her head and scream at the old bat, telling him that yes, he had been quite rude and inconsiderate just now!
Renee wasn't bloody in a patient mood and certainly not in the right frame of mind for these tricks and riddles and roundabout half-answers, simply because she did not understand her surroundings, they were toying with her!
None of what had happened to her tonight was her damn bloody fault, but they were sure acting like it was, especially Professor Dumbledore, really! And Lupin, oh, Lupin! She saw how Tonks's husband looked at her.
It was evident judging by the aloof way he was regarding her, he didn't like her.
Not that Renee cared or not whether Mr. Lupin gave a damn about her or not, though considering she had been the one to tell him his wife was in jail, she guessed she could give him a pass for that one, but still! She had not asked for any of this.
Hell, she didn't want any of this! She had enough problems back at home, between trying to keep Billy in line from flunking out of school for misbehavior and acting out ever since their parents died, managing the Broken Spoon Café, and trying to juggle her guardianship duties was enough! And now…she was about to go in hiding from a magical serial killer. Renee made an odd noise from the back of her throat that sounded like a snort.
This was all too goddamned much. Every last second of bloody tonight.
She shoved her white-boned knuckles into her mouth and bit down hard to stop it from escaping her lips, thinking if she started laughing here and now, it wasn't going to reflect well on her character, and it'd send her mind insane.
"Just—just go away!" Renee bellowed, or rather, she tried to, though when she attempted to shout at both Mr. Lupin and this Hogwarts Professor, the old man, to leave her alone, she flinched at how meek, how small she sounded. How hoarse her voice was from the shouting match she'd had earlier.
When neither Remus or Professor Dumbledore made no move to honor her request, her head whiplashed sharply upward, and she did not bother to flick away the tears that began to roll down her cheeks in succession, one right after the other.
"Leave me alone!" she screamed, drawing her knees close to her chest and burying her head in her arms, letting out a strangled, muted yell.
For a long, awkward moment, there was nothing but a heavy silence.
And then there was the sound of the two men murmuring to one another, and then the unmistakable sound of retreating footsteps. And then, she was alone.
Renee refused to lift her head and look around to verify this fact, even as her lips trembled and her shoulders heaved with emotion, not backing down. She had been harassed. She was well within her rights as a human being, non-magical or not, to demand a moment's peace to fucking deal with all this.
Her dark eyelashes brimmed heavy with a fresh wave of briny, salty liquid, the edge of her little slender nose turning red. Her hands clenched into shaking fists, her fingernails scraping the material of her jeans in utter agony. In a desperate and losing battle against her grief and confusion, Renee bit her bottom lip hard enough that she soon tasted the blood that welled there.
Renee's crying was both ferocious and noisy. She blinked briny tears from bloodshot eyes, her thick lashes stuck together in clumps as if she'd been swimming. The tears made wet tracks down her face and dripped from her chin.
Clear watery snot streaked from her flaring nostrils down her red mottled skin to her open quivering lips. Her hands opened and closed, rhythmically clenching as if there could be some violent solution to her confusion and her pain if only she could find it.
But the two men had done as she had asked.
They had left her alone.