O
APATE
Lies
March
The news that Teddy Lupin had been suspended from St Mungo's was round the school within days, although to Hope's relief, people mostly left her alone and the only students who did approach her to discuss it were those she welcomed anyway. James, once he had heard the full story, was fuming on Teddy's behalf, and Rosie was already researching old cases that might help him to appeal the verdict should it be negative. Adam, a per usual, was not much good for in depth conversations, but he was kind and sympathetic in his own vague sort of way, and Hope was grateful for any moral support at this stage.
She kept her usual bold expression plastered to her face, but worries continued to plague her, and as the weeks dragged by, she fell even further behind in her studies. Revision was still not happening and her homework, if she managed to complete it at all, was continuously marked as substandard. As for the classes themselves, she was lucky if she hadn't switched off after the first ten minutes.
"Err... Hope," Michael said to her gently, one Herbology lesson not long before Easter. "I think that might be enough water?"
Hope jolted out of her daze and looked down at the suckling saplings that sat in a long ceramic tray front of them. The larger ones were squeaking with indignation while the smallest of them had been submerged entirely, tiny bubbles forming on the surface of the pool of liquid.
"Oh crap. Sorry." She let Michael take over and he did his best to mitigate the damage. "Bit tired today. I - didn't sleep much."
His forehead creased in sympathy.
"Worried about Teddy's hearing?"
Hope hesitated, but she didn't mind admitting her fears to Michael as much as she would have done with her other classmates. The Longbottoms might as well be family, after all.
"Kind of."
"When is it?"
"Next Friday." She sprinkled some nourishing earth over the saplings, carefully this time, but they shied away from her, still bristling after their unfortunate drowning. "Everyone keeps telling me not to worry," she muttered. "But I don't really know how to do that. And people don't seem to get that it's not just about a job. It's also..."
"About your dad," Michael provided, as she trailed off.
"Mmm."
"But that's why I don't think St Mungo's will dismiss him," Michael said. "I really don't, Hope. He's working every day to find a cure for Lycanthropy. And he saved your mum's life. How can they dismiss him when he saved a life? That's the point of a hospital."
"Exactly! That's what I said to Teddy. He could save so many more, as well. He was making progress with his research, you know. Real progress towards a permanent cure. More than anyone else has ever managed."
She gazed down at the little seedlings, who seemed to have forgiven her now that the nourishing earth was taking effect, then swallowed hard and tried to push the negative thoughts from her mind.
"What do we do with them now?" No doubt Neville had told them at the start of class but Hope had not been paying any attention.
"Need to get those pink buds off them. With some clippers."
Hope cast around and grabbed a pair from a neighbouring work bench. "I'll be careful," she promised Michael, noticing his apprehensive expression, and he chuckled. She concentrated hard on nipping the tiny buds right at the base of the stems.
"Stealing now, are we Hopeless?" Elodie said coolly from behind her. "Those are mine."
Hope cut off the last coloured bud and dropped it in the dish before turning round.
"Well, you weren't using them and you weren't around to ask. Here." She thrust the clippers at her and Elodie snatched them back with a toss of her head.
"Stuck up cow," Hope muttered. Elodie's sharp ears picked up the mumbled insult at once.
"I'm stuck up, am I?" she retorted. "Interesting that, when you're the one with no real friends."
"Oh, what a great comeback. As usual. Why don't you find some new insults for a change?" But Elodie had touched a nerve and seemed to know it. Her lip curled.
"It's no wonder you had to find an older boyfriend," she taunted. "No one in our year would have you. And Towler's only with you to see how far he can get. Anyone can see that."
Michael's eyes darkened with anger and even Natalie looked taken aback at her friend's last comment. Hope, unable to stop herself, picked up a clod of earth from the bucket in front of her and threw it at hard Elodie's back as she turned away. Her aim was as true as ever and Elodie gave an agitated shriek and began frantically shaking the soil out of her ringlets.
"Oops, I'm sorry," Hope said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "Just thought your hair looked in need of some nourishment."
"Lupin. Carmichael. Enough," Neville warned. Hope had not realised he was standing so close to them. The two girls shot death stares at each other before returning to their own work, but other than a few more scowls from Elodie, the rest of the lesson passed without incident, and her curls were pristine by the time the bell signalled the end of class. In fact, to Hope's irritation, the nourishing earth did appear to have made them shinier than ever. As they were packing up their belongings, Neville called over.
"Hope, a word please."
He was looking serious.
Well, what did you expect? He has warned you in the past about lashing out.
Elodie was smug as she flounced off to break, but Natalie, to Hope's surprise, flashed her an apologetic grimace, and Marion, who had been spending increasingly less time with the other two girls recently, preferring the company of the Ravenclaw boys, smiled over at her. Michael lagged behind, looking worried. "Professor-" he began.
Hope grinned a little. It always amused her to hear Michael call his dad Professor.
"You too Michael. I'd like to speak with Hope."
Resigned, Hope made her way up to the far side of the greenhouse, where Neville was tending to a large fanged geranium.
"I couldn't help overhearing earlier," he said, as she reached him. "What you said about Teddy's hearing."
"Oh." Wrongfooted, having been expecting a scolding, Hope wasn't sure how to respond to this.
"Now," Neville eyed her seriously and put down his spray bottle. "I know we can't predict what's going to happen, whatever Professor Trelawney might think, and of course it could end badly, but Teddy is in with a good chance, Hope. I visited my grandmother at the weekend. She's friends with Professor Henson, who will be presiding at the hearing, and she holds him in high esteem. He is very fair and principled. She also happened to tell me who would be on Teddy's disciplinary panel."
"Is she allowed to tell you things like that?" Hope asked in surprise. His lips twitched.
"Augusta Longbottom knows a lot of information she shouldn't and has no regard for confidentiality."
She managed a weak smile.
"So who is it? Doing his hearing?"
"I'm not sure if you know of them," Neville said. "But I've met Healer Pye several times. He spent many years tending to patients on the serious bite ward, and I'm sure will be supportive of Teddy's research. I don't know Professor Rabnott personally, but she has been one of the main figures involved in the cure rollout since Christmas. They are invested in the future of St Mungo's and they won't be keen to lose a valuable member of staff over one unfortunate incident. None of them are likely to be swayed by the unfortunate release to the press, either. They will focus on Teddy's statement and the evidence they have and go from there."
The ball of knots that had been sitting in Hope's stomach for weeks now untangled itself very slightly.
"Like I said, and as I'm sure you know, there are no guarantees," Neville said. "And your worries are entirely justified. But try to focus on what you can control. You have a lot going on this year, and dwelling on issues that are out of your hands will not help you at all. I appreciate that is easier said than done," he added, as if reading her thoughts. "But start small. Basic, every day activities. Try ten minutes at a time on a single task without breaking focus, for example. See how you go from there. And remember if you need to talk to someone there are plenty of people you can go to."
Hope nodded, grateful for Neville's words and unexpected advice but unwilling, as always, to elaborate on her innermost emotions. She merely waited for the inevitable reprimand for lashing out at her classmate.
"Did you want to talk about something?" Neville asked gently.
"No professor."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"In that case," he smiled, returning to his plant. "It's a lovely day. You should go and make the most of break before your next class."
Hope blinked at the back of his head in confusion.
"Yes?" Neville looked round at her again, seeing she hadn't moved.
"Um... am I not in trouble, for throwing earth at Elodie?"
"You threw earth at Elodie?" Neville adopted a politely surprised expression, although his eyes were gleaming. "I must have missed that, Hope. I can't punish someone without evidence, I'm afraid!"
Hope bit back her own smile as she left the greenhouse. The Longbottoms were in a league of their own.
"Fingers crossed the hearing will be fine then," Roxanne said eagerly, when Hope had found them and recounted what Neville had said. "They'd have to be idiots to fire Teddy after all the good he's worked for. And by the sounds of it the article won't make a difference either way."
"If it does, Phennah will have me to answer to," Hope growled through her teeth. They were empty words, she knew, but it felt good to put the blame on someone.
"You still think it was the healer who reported it to the press?" Dom said. She sounded sceptical. "I think Teddy's was right about that to be honest. No one at St Mungo's would want to risk their job security. And most Healers have a lot of integrity, they don't survive in the profession if they don't. I know I go on about Victoire, but it's not for lack of principles. You didn't hear me say that though," she added hurriedly.
"There must be a few that are corrupt or dishonourable," Hope objected. She had not forgotten that there was a spy among the St Mungo's staff, although as Harry had sworn her to secrecy, this was not something she could share with her friends.
"Maybe," Dom said, with her habitual expression of patient tolerance that she tended to adopt whenever Hope or Roxanne embarked on a wild conspiracy theory, and Hope knew that going on about Phennah was not going to make her feel better. Deciding to take Neville's advice, she pulled out her potions homework and tried to concentrate on it for a full ten minutes. She only made it to seven before her mind began to drift away again, but she supposed it wasn't bad for a first attempt.
O
The letter came a week later, during lunch. Hope, who had been toying with a mouthful of pasta for ten minutes, unable to stomach anything, put down her fork and looked up as the owl came soaring towards them.
She untied the letter from its leg with trembling fingers, and gazed down at the neat, familiar, writing.
"I can't," she said, pushing it over to Dom. "I can't. Please read it first and tell me."
Dom, after a moment's hesitation, obliged. She scanned the note for several seconds and Hope felt the terrible weight in her chest finally dissipate. Dom's face told her all she needed to know.
"It's fine," she breathed. "It's fine. He got off."
Hope buried her face in her hands, relief sweeping through her. Maybe things would get better now. Maybe everything was going to be fine. This surely was a sign that the tide was turning, that life would soon be back to normal.
"Hope?" Dom put a hand on her shoulder, sounding worried, and she blinked hard and raised her head.
"I'm fine."
Dom did not take her hand away.
"It's OK to be upset," she said softly. "Or to cry, if you need to. You haven't had it easy recently."
"I'm not upset," Hope said at once. "And I don't cry, remember."
She picked up the note from the table in front of them, just to be sure. To see it for herself.
Dopey,
They let me off. It was a tough couple of hours, but all fine in the end. I think the research progress swung it for me. I've been given a warning but I can go back to work after the weekend.
Relieved is an understatement. I'll tell you more details when you're home next week.
Can't wait to see you.
Love you,
Teddy x
oOo
April
Hope remained buoyant as the holidays approached. Her enthusiasm for Quidditch and her favourite classes returned with gusto, and she even found the motivation to make up a revision timetable for after Easter. Whether she would use it or not was another matter, but it was a start.
Her mood was marred only slightly on the last evening of term, by Adam, after spending several enjoyable hours out in the grounds, mainly kissing, occasionally talking, or else lying on the grass enjoying the unseasonably warm spring weather. Regardless of what Elodie had said, Adam had made no attempt to take things further, which was a relief. Roxanne might have slept with half a dozen boys before deciding that they weren't worth the trouble, but Hope was not the least bit interested in going that far. Kissing would do her nicely for the moment.
"Have a good holiday!" Adam said, as they reluctantly broke apart and made their way back inside so as to be in before curfew. Hope was keen to avoid both detention and a row with her parents this time around.
"Won't I see you on the train tomorrow?" she asked, confused. She hadn't been expecting him to spend the whole journey with her, granted, but it seemed reasonable to have assumed they would see each other to say goodbye before heading their separate ways.
Adam shrugged.
"Sure, come and find me if you want to."
It would be nice if you wanted to see me for a change.
She did not let the acrid words pass her lips, but, once the two of them shared a final kiss and parted ways, Hope stomped up to the dormitory, her happy bubble now smaller than it had been before. She was beginning to see what Roxanne had meant about boys not being worth it.
Hope's stubbornness endured into the following day. If Adam really liked her, then he would have to come and find her himself, and she was prepared to wait until he made up his mind. Roxanne heartily approved of this 'playing hard to get' tactic, while Dom, more cautious, told Hope that it was unwise to play games in relationships, and if she had issues she should address them with Adam head on. As she often did when Dom and Roxanne had opposing views, Hope opted for convenience and lack of emotional effort, and did not seek Adam out during the journey at all.
On arrival in King's Cross, Roxanne said her goodbyes and hurried off to meet Fred and Alison, who were picking her up, and Dom, who was transporting them back to Devon, held out her arm. Hope gritted her teeth. She did not love apparition, but there was no doubt it was useful, and she would not be able to take her own test for a long time. She might as well make the most of side-along while Dom was in the country.
"Come in for a bit?" Hope suggested, as she and Dom reappeared outside the Lupins' house. "You can stay for dinner if you like. I hope Dad's made cake. He normally does for the holidays."
Dom agreed at once, but all thoughts of food were forgotten the minute they entered the house. Remus met them at the door, his face pale and tired looking, his forehead heavily lined. So much so that Hope wondered fleetingly if she had forgotten the full moon... but no, it was not until the end of the month.
"Victoire's here," he said, once he had greeted them, turning to Dom. "Just to warn you, something happened at work today. She's alright," he hastened to add, as Dom's eyes widened in alarm. "Physically, at least. But she is quite upset."
The two girls followed him into the lounge, and Hope stared in dismay at the sight that greeted them. She was used to confident Victoire. Breezy Victoire. Victoire who waltzed through life with her stunning features and dazzling charm and glamourous clothes. In that moment, huddled up on the sofa next to Teddy, dressed in one of his oversized jumpers, her face pale and her matted hair tied up into a low slung ponytail, she looked like a lost child.
"Vic?" Dom sat down next to her and touched her arm uncertainly. "Vic, what's wrong?"
Victoire turned to Dom, threw her arms round her neck and dissolved into tears, much to Hope's astonishment. While more civil to each other now than they had been as children, the two of them were not known for displays of affection, and Dom, half bemused, half terrified, patted her sister awkwardly on the back before returning the embrace. Teddy's forehead was furrowed, his mouth set in a thin line, his eyes deeply distressed.
"Do you want to go home?" Dom asked, as Victoire finally drew back again and dragged a sleeve over her face.
"Your parents are back now," Remus supplied. "You're welcome to stay here if you want to, but they know what happened and it might help to be at home with them."
Victoire sniffed and nodded. Close to tears herself, Dom helped her to her feet.
"What did happen?" Hope demanded, wheeling round to her parents as the other three left. Teddy had insisted on escorting the two girls home. She sank down onto Teddy's recently vacated spot on the sofa. Her mother was standing next to the fireplace, apparently deep in thought, and it was her father who answered.
"Victoire has been under the Imperius curse for the past couple of months," he said quietly, sitting down as well. "They found out about it today."
Hope gaped back at him in blank horror, nausea swirling in her stomach. She remembered thinking, a mere week ago, that the tide was beginning to turn, that life was on the mend, a light finally shining at the end of the tunnel. But was this the way it was going to be from now on? One obstacle overcome, only for another, more harrowing one to take its place? Did growing up just mean an endless stream of worries and horrible incidents, to be navigated step by step?
Several urgent questions later, her parents had explained as best they could from the details they knew themselves. It seemed that Victoire had been quiet and withdrawn for weeks now, with colleagues flagging occasional odd and erratic behaviour. Teddy had been concerned too, but given the physical and emotional strain of the past year, had put it down to stress, and Victoire was due a full two weeks off at Easter, which everyone had hoped would help. Then, that morning, Teddy had discovered her with a file of confidential documentation taken from the Magienetics department without permission, with no apparent recollection of how it had come into her possession. The file contained some of Jessye's most recent findings on the Narcoviral Curse.
"We're lucky that Teddy found out about it before Jessye raised the alarm that it was missing," Remus sighed. Tonks was still silent, lost in thought. "And she knows Victoire too well to believe that she would do something like this of her own volition. In a further stroke of fortune, Hestia was in work early today, and they went straight to her for help. She was able to get a rough idea of the parameters of the curse without causing Victoire too much additional distress, and she alerted those who needed to know while keeping it from everyone else."
"Victoire was stealing new research on the curse from the Magienetics lab?" Hope repeated. "So that must have something to do with The Crow then? She was getting the information for him? Or for someone to pass on to him?"
"Yes," her father said cautiously. "It would seem so, anyway. But it's a very strange set of circumstances." He looked towards his wife, as if asking for help with something, but she remained lost in her own thoughts. He turned back to Hope. "It turns out that it was also Victoire who informed the Daily Prophet about Teddy's hearing."
Hope sat bolt upright at this.
"What? How do you know that?"
"Clara found out," Teddy provided. He had re-entered the room behind his mother and they all turned to face him.
"She's a little better," he added, in response to their questioning looks. "I left them to have some time alone. Fleur and Bill are keeping an eye on her, and Dom won't leave her side." He threw himself into the sofa and, glaring at a spot on the wall, added bitterly, "Nothing like an unforgivable curse to cure a bit of sibling rivalry."
Hope was burning to know more details but she waited until Teddy spoke on his own.
"Clara found out," he repeated at last, turning to Hope. "Last week, the same day I got the verdict from the hearing. She's like a dog with a bone when she wants something, and she knows Cavendish, the Daily Prophet editor, so she got the information out of him in the end. He showed her the tip off they received with the information about my hearing. It was anonymous, but Clara recognised Victoire's handwriting."
"That's it?" Hope didn't feel this was solid proof at all. "But other people could have similar handwriting, couldn't they? Or alter it to look different?"
"That's what I said," Teddy nodded. "And Clara didn't want to believe it either, but she was convinced she was right and felt it was only fair to let me know. She wasn't allowed to take the note, of course, so I didn't even see it."
"And you didn't talk to Victoire about it?"
Teddy shook his head. "How could I? She's been struggling so much recently, and something like this might have pushed her over the edge. I knew there must have been a mistake, but I didn't want to sound like I was accusing her. So I've kept a very close eye on her this week, and when everything came to a head today I mentioned it to Hestia. Turns out, Clara was right. But of course she was forced into doing it, just as she was forced to steal the confidential documents."
"Hang on!" Hope vaguely remembered a snippet of information she had retained from Edgcombe's classes. "I thought it wasn't possible to tell what an Imperious victim was forced to do."
Teddy's face took on his 'clever' look, as Hope had taken to calling it, and she wondered if a technical speech was coming, but his words were simple enough.
"It's not, really," he said. "Not to any reliable extent that would hold up against a jury. But those skilled in curse detection, like Hestia, can recover certain memories that the effects of the Imperious curse occlude. Victoire remembers writing the letter to the Daily Prophet, and she remembers being in the Magienetics department, on more than one occasion, over the last few weeks, when she had no particular reason to be there. She doesn't remember taking the documents today, though, or who she was supposed to pass them on to."
"But can't Hestia find out more?" Hope asked eagerly. "Why can't she help Victoire remember that too?"
Teddy's eyes darkened a little. "Because it's an invasive and traumatic process. Imagine remembering an action you did but had no control over, as if you were watching yourself from outside your own body. Hestia thought it best not to push it for the moment. She was worried it might do long term damage."
His voice broke slightly and Hope registered she was being insensitive. Poor Victoire had been sobbing her heart out on their sofa less than half an hour ago
"Sorry," she muttered. She was getting better at apologising, at least. "It must be horrible for her. Will - will she be alright?"
"I hope so," Teddy said, his face softening. "She'll get support, and she'll be signed off work for quite a while now. And we will find out who did this and make sure it doesn't happen again."
"So..." Hope's mind was racing ahead of the conversation, her thoughts turning to who. "So someone cursed her to get Magienetics research on the curse, but also to leak information about you, to hurt your chances at the hearing? In the one go?"
"It would seem so." Teddy scratched fitfully at a loose thread on the faded sofa. "And it doesn't make sense. No sense at all."
"Why not?" Hope protested. "Whoever needed the Narcoviral Curse research must be working for the The Crow, and if they thought that leaking the story about you would help him, then why wouldn't they get her to do that as well?"
"Why would it help The Crow for the public to know I was in trouble at St Mungo's?"
"To show people what he's capable of! That spell he cast on Mum was something no one's ever heard of before, Phennah said."
Hope felt a splinter of guilt for blaming the healer now she knew a far more sinister culprit was in play. Teddy was looking sceptical.
"But he messed it up. He was intending to use it for blackmail and he failed. Why would he want to advertise that? And the article didn't talk about The Crow's hand in Mum's illness, remember. In fact, it didn't mention him at all. It was specifically about my transgression and what that meant for St Mungo's and the integrity of its staff."
"Well..." Hope floundered. Teddy had a point. "You said yourself it was damaging to St Mungo's reputation. Maybe that's what The Crow wants - if people lose faith in St Mungo's it would mean fewer people would be willing to get the cure."
Teddy looked unimpressed by this theory, and Hope knew it was a flimsy argument, particularly when every wizard she knew of had received the cure before Christmas.
"Someone who uses the Imperious Curse at all is scum," she continued, more robustly. "Why wouldn't they also ruin the hospital's reputation, or mess up your research, or just cause trouble in general, if they got the chance?"
"That,' Teddy shot back, "is precisely the point. "How would they get that chance? Vic hasn't been anywhere the last few months, she's been too busy. She goes to work, she comes home, sometimes she comes over here. That's it."
Hope stared at him, uncomprehending.
"So it's obviously someone in work. It has to be. Harry said there was a spy for The Crow in St Mungo's - he told me and Dad-" she looked at her father for confirmation of this and he nodded, his eyes distracted as he rested his chin thoughtfully on his finger tips. "They must be getting loads of people to do their dirty work. There could be other staff under the Imperious curse too-"
Teddy was still shaking his head.
"The MoMS would have been alerted immediately if an Imperious curse had been cast within St Mungo's," he said flatly. "Ever since Mum's illness they've had tighter security in the hospital than ever. Anyone coming in submits their wand to tracking while they're in the building. Every spell they cast is recorded. You don't get past the main entrance without a tagged wand and it's now impossible to get to the wards any other way. Comply or no entry. No exceptions. It's that simple."
"Victoire must have been cursed before, then. Before Mum was ill and before this tracking tagging thing was introduced."
"Hope, think about it." Teddy's tone was as calm as ever but she detected his bite of impatience. "Firstly, Hestia thinks it happened in the last six to eight weeks. She's incredibly skilled when it comes to curse detection, so I can't imagine she'd have got that wrong."
Hope had forgotten that it was now possible to put a timeframe on when an Imperious curse had been cast. She definitely needed to start paying more attention in Defence Against the Dark arts.
"Secondly." Teddy was still speaking. "Even if that wasn't the case, Victoire can't have been cursed until after Mum was admitted. There's no way anyone could have predicted that I would have a disciplinary hearing before I'd done the action I was being disciplined for. Victoire wasn't in work that day, or that weekend, and by the Monday the rules were clear. No one got into St Mungo's after that without having their wand tracked and traced."
"Maybe she was forced to help The Crow in general and cause trouble for St Mungo's. And the story about you was just an unfortunate part of that." But Hope knew she was clutching at straws.
"If it was that, we would have noticed something odd before now," Teddy insisted. "There would have been more scandals. More sketchy stories about the hospital breaking the news. St Mungo's history is far from clean and any healer could give you half a dozen examples of that off the bat."
He let out a hiss of frustration. "No, to me it's pretty clear. She was put under the Imperious curse a couple of months ago with at least two specific instructions. One, procure information from the Magienetics department, and two, leak the story of my hearing to the press. But whoever cursed her somehow had the motive, knowledge and opportunity to do that outside the hospital, or else dodged all the security checks in the hospital. It doesn't make sense at all."
The cogs turned furiously in Hope's brain, to no avail. Teddy was right. It didn't make sense.
"What if it was a patient?" she offered, after a long silence, knowing as the words left her mouth that she sounded stupid and childish. A lifelong friendship with Roxanne Weasley had taught her to always find some explanation for strange happenings, however ridiculous. "A long term patient, I mean. One who came into hospital with their wand before the tracking system was introduced. Before the curse happened at all."
Teddy laughed at this, though not unkindly.
"A patient would hardly want to help The Crow, or ruin St Mungo's reputation, would they? Not if they were relying on long term hospital care."
"They could have been Imperioused too... somehow..." Even Hope couldn't find a plausible explanation as to how that might be the case. "Or maybe it's about your research. If they were bitten by a werewolf they might want revenge. Stop you developing a cure."
Teddy was visibly losing patience with her wild theories now.
"If they'd been bitten by a werewolf, they would want a cure more than most," he pointed out, rolling his eyes. "Anyway," he cut over his sister as she opened her mouth again. "It's irrelevant. Wands belonging to patients would have been tagged too, no matter whose they were, how sick that patient was or how long they'd been in hospital. Kingsley wouldn't overlook the possibility of a healthy staff member or visitor being able to steal a patient's wand, and neither would Higgs. Higgs is the Chief at the MoMS, and he never leaves a stone unturned."
"Alright, it was only a suggestion," Hope snapped, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. She did not appreciate being patronised, even if Teddy hadn't meant it as such. "And he must have left something unturned, otherwise The Crow would be caught by now."
Teddy did not rise to her tone, rather was looking curiously to the other side of the room. Neither of their parents had said anything throughout the entire exchange, but their mother had now stiffened. She stared in the direction of her two children, unfocused, as if she couldn't really see them.
"Mum?"
Her eyes, piercing blue today, met Teddy's.
"Vic," she said, very slowly. "She's been working on the Incurable Affliction Ward? Since Christmas?"
"Yes." Teddy confirmed, bemused. "Why?"
"Dora?"
"Mum, what's up?"
She had paled slightly, an odd expression twisting her face. "I need to go into work," she muttered, running a distracted hand through her hair, and summoning her cloak from the door with a wave of her hand. "I need to speak to Harry. It might be nothing... I don't see how it could possibly... But... Maybe..."
Both her children and her husband stared up at her, nonplussed.
"Mum, what are you talking about?"
She shook her head.
"I need to speak to Harry first," she said, approaching each of them for a brief hug. "He'll still be at work, I'm sure. I'll be back soon. I just-"
Silence fell as she broke apart from Hope and their attention was caught by the appearance of a tiny, jet black bubble, which appeared from nowhere, hovered for a few seconds, then burst right in Tonks's eyeline. Odourless, textureless black smoke clouded the air and Hope's breath caught in her throat.
A black alert. The highest alert. The summons which meant that any Auror physically capable of duty should respond immediately.
A mirthless smile played on Tonks's lips as it cleared. "That leaves no question, then." She looked up at Remus, whose face tensed as he pulled her into a fierce embrace. "I will definitely be going into work... and I'm afraid I won't be back as soon as I'd hoped."
Hope watched, feeling utterly powerless, as her parents broke apart. Her mother took a deep breath, donned her cloak, turned her hair to its most vibrant shade of pink, gave each of her children a final kiss, and she was gone. The last wisps of black smoke faded into nothing.
o
"Harry?" Tonks knocked on her superior's office door barely a minute after the black alert had been issued.
"That was quick. Even for you."
His voice was odd. Strained. He was sitting at his desk, staring blankly down at the polished oak. A grey, MoMS embossed piece of parchment lay in front of him.
"I was about to come and find you anyway, to talk to you about something, but - " she stared at his tortured face as he continued to look down at the table. "Harry, what's wrong? What's happened now?"
Harry let out a measured exhale. It seemed to be taking ever ounce of resolve for him to stay calm.
"I'll tell you when everyone's arrived." He looked up at her at last. "Why did you want to talk to me?"
"Oh..." now that she was here, the idea that had sprung into her mind in her own living room felt idiotic, a wild theory spurred on by her over imaginative teenage daughter. "It's nothing, honestly. I don't think it's even possible."
"I'm not sure anyone can say that again, after the events of the past year," Harry said. "Come on, what's up?"
"OK." Tonks closed the door to his office for a moment. "I don't know how this fits in with what's happening now. It probably doesn't, and it'll sound crazy, but... Teddy and Hope were just talking about Victoire. Bickering mainly, about how she could have been cursed. You know Hope, she tends to get carried away, but something she said did make me think-" She hesitated again. "Harry, this is going to sound insane, I know that, but Vic's been working on the IA ward for three months now, and-"
She didn't need to finish. Harry's eyes had closed and he gave a single jerk of his head. The rest of her sentence died in her throat.
"You think so too?"
With a visible effort, he unclenched his jaw, and spoke in slow, carefully monitored tones.
"We heard about Victoire this morning. Hestia alerted us the minute she found out and gave us all the details she had. So Kingsley and I met with Higgs. Knew we must have missed something." His eyes were gimlets and his nostrils flared. "It didn't take too long for me to realise how stupid I've been. Not to see it. All this time."
Tonks's heart was beating painfully against her ribs.
"We don't know for certain though, do we?"
"Yes, we do. Higgs confirmed five minutes ago."
He handed her the grey parchment to read. Her fist curled around it, crumpling the stiff paper as she scanned the lines of text, her knuckles whitening. She slammed it back down on Harry's desk.
"How?"
Harry offered no response to this. Then, with a roar of anguish, he picked up a glass vase that sat on the edge his desk and hurled it against the wall. Tonks didn't flinch as it smashed, merely watched as the shards littered the floor.
"What now?"
Harry stood up, his outward calm restored even as his eyes blazed. He repaired the glass wandlessly and silently with a sweep of his hand. They could hear movement on the other side of the office door as more of their colleagues answered the black alert call.
"I brief the team," he said. "As quickly as I can. Then we leave."
"We can end this, Harry," Tonks said, as they both made towards the office door. "Now we know. We end it. Today."
Once again Harry made no reply, and, glancing up at his livid face, Tonks felt a spasm of fear on his behalf. Harry, she knew, would be ending this today if it was the last thing he ever did.
o
"Remus?"
It was Ginny. Teddy was now back at Shell Cottage to check on Victoire, and Remus and Hope, having finished dinner and exhausted the topic of Hope's term at school, had been sitting in silence for quite some time.
"Can I wait with you?" she asked, an odd tremor in her voice, as Remus stood up to greet her, apparently glad of the distraction. "I - I don't really want to be alone right now."
"Of course." He gestured that she should sit down with them. "Where are the kids?"
"At The Burrow," Ginny said. "They went straight there from school, as I was working late. I've asked them to stay with Mum until we have more information."
Hope swallowed the lump in her throat as Ginny sat down at the table, and Remus brought her a drink. "This black alert?" she said. "Is it to do with The Crow?"
"It must be," Ginny said. "Black alerts have only been used once since the war, and that was for The Surge."
"And is it-" Hope bit her lip. "Is it Strike Three?"
Two pairs of eyes snapped towards her.
"How do you know about Strike Three?" Remus asked.
"Well... it was sort of obvious," Hope said. "Mum talked about Strike One last summer, and Harry mentioned Strike Two to the healers when Mum was in hospital. I know he said it was Auror terminology, but that didn't make sense. Everything felt so weird at school, too. As if people were waiting for something." If she wasn't mistaken Ginny and her father were somewhat impressed by her observations.
"What is Strike Three?" she persisted.
Ginny sighed. "I don't think it can hurt to tell you now. So many people know about it anyway. The Crow's first message, back in December the year before last, warned that there would be three strikes. Three strikes after the initial release of the curse. Strike One would be validation, a way to demonstrate that everyone already believed wizards were more worthy than muggles, but that The Crow was the only one doing something about it. That, of course, was the planting of the tainted cure, which meant that magical authorities had to hold back on releasing it to avoid killing innocent muggles who may have high levels of magic in their blood."
"That wasn't so bad in the end though, was it? Because it helped us find a proper cure?"
"Absolutely. A blessing in more ways than one, because it also saved your mum's life. And Strike Two didn't go as The Crow intended either. Strike Two was to be ultimatum, a choice to make, an opportunity for leaders to stop resisting, to join forces with The Crow or else he would unleash the curse on wizards as well. But Tonks messed up Strike Two for him. She was able to impede his progress and force him to lie low for a while, and he lost his window of opportunity to gain the upper hand. But it was only temporary. This lull and apparent progress was predicted by experts long ago. A build up to Strike Three."
"But what is Strike Three? Did The Crow say what it would be?"
Ginny nodded tightly. "Obliteration."
Obliteration. The word conjured up a myriad of dark, cloudy images in Hope's mind.
"What does that mean?"
"No one is entirely sure," Ginny said. "In theory, something so drastic that any progress made to date against the Narcoviral Curse would be rendered worthless. Multiple releases of it worldwide, for example. Mass destruction of the existing cures. Or a more lethal version of the virus, mutated beyond reach of the muggle vaccine."
Hope remembered her mother explaining The Crow's motives to her, many lifetimes ago now. She had said that he didn't want the curse to appear "too magical", that he didn't want to drive muggle leaders back towards magical authorities. But would that matter to him now, eighteen months later? Probably not. The world was in such a state of disarray, weakened and divided, the chinks in the armour so chasmic that a final, well aimed blow could surely tear it apart forever.
Her father, seeing her panic stricken look, spoke firmly. "The wizarding world has been preparing for Strike Three for over a year now, Hope. Measures that very few people know about. Even Harry isn't aware of some of it. We believe The Crow was too arrogant, misread the situation and underestimated the strength of resistance that could be pushed back against him. He should never have been so open about his plans, should never have warned the world about a final, deadly blow, because Aurors, the MoMS, MACUSA, leaders, healers and researchers across the world have been secretly pouring their resources into preparing for Strike Three ever since they first heard about it. Today, if Strike Three is the reason behind the black alert, we can at least hold out hope those contingency plans will mitigate the damage."
It was a very long night spent in almost total silence after that. Teddy sent a message to say he would be staying at Victoire's until the morning. Remus pretended to read. Ginny sat there throwing nervous glances at the clock every few seconds. Hope tidied her bedroom and did the washing up by hand just for something to do. The hours ticked by but no one mentioned bed. Sleep was the last thing on their minds.
O
It was three o'clock in the morning when the sound of the front door being opened and shut broke through the silence of the house. Hope, who had been unnecessarily rearranging some books on a shelf in her room, came sprinting down the stairs the second she heard the deep voice on the floor below, and stumbled through the doorway of the kitchen.
There were no words to accurately describe the expressions on Harry and her mother's faces. Tonks enveloped both her husband and daughter in a hug the minute she saw them, but Ginny seemed afraid to go near Harry. He was radiating some kind of force, an invisible, furious energy, his auror of habitual calm absent, his eyes wild.
"What's happened?" Remus said, his voice sharp. He too appeared unnerved by Harry's demeanour.
"We've got him," Harry said, without preamble. "The Crow. He's in custody and we'll start proceedings later today. I wanted to stay but Kingsley sent me home to get some sleep before it all kicks off." His eyes blazed. "As if I could sleep, right now."
Hope didn't understand. Wasn't this good news? She knew The Crow's actions had cost hundreds of thousands of lives, but that had been true for months now. Surely his eventual capture should be cause for relief, if not quite celebration? Why this sudden, silent seething?
It was Ginny who asked the question.
Harry looked round at them all. As his eyes rested on Hope he seemed to calm a little, and took a deep breath before sinking into a chair at the end of the table.
"This has been coming for a very long time," he said, as the others followed suit. "Far longer than any of us realised. Possibly since the end of the first war."
"The first war?" Ginny gaped at him in shock. "But the curse can't have existed back then, surely?"
"No," Harry agreed. "The curse itself can only have been perfected in the last decade, we're pretty sure of that. But the theory of a Narcoviral Curse has been around for much longer, remember. Since Golpalott's time. And The Crow, it would seem, has been planning it all these years. Researching, testing, experimenting. The wheels for this were set in motion long before Voldemort's second rise."
"So was The Crow a Voldemort supporter?"
Harry ground his teeth.
"Yes, but only in the sense that Voldemort's dominion would have made it easier for him to achieve his own ends. When Voldemort was defeated, it was merely a setback. And over the years, a new plan came together, little by little, a ticking time bomb, until the Narcoviral Curse was ready to be unleashed into the world."
Hope felt that familiar creeping sensation down her shoulders and back. She reached out her hand for reassurance and her mother, who was sitting next to her, took it, her gaze still fixed on Harry.
"Why didn't he act before?" Remus asked. "Has it taken all these years to create the curse in the first place?"
"I suppose we'll find out in due course," Harry replied. "My guess at the moment is that he perfected the curse several years ago, after the breakthrough in magical genetic study, but that the logistics took many long months to come together. He would only get one shot at this, after all. One chance to execute the lethal product of a lifetime's work. He needed to pick his moment carefully. Although," his fists clenched. "I don't think it's a coincidence that the moment came right after Harry Potter became Head of the Auror department."
"Wait," Ginny sat bolt upright, her brown eyes wary. "You know him? The Crow?"
Harry shook his head. "Not The Crow. He's older than me, and he never attended Hogwarts, or any wizarding school. Hestia and Jessye were right about there being spy in St Mungo's. There was someone else. Someone to gather crucial information to inform the curse itself. Someone to target dedicated, innocent health workers like poor Victoire. Someone to ensure that the curse would not only cause widespread devastation, but also engender irreparable discord between muggle and magical communities. So that, if they were successful, it would truly mean end of the non-magical population."
"But how?" Remus said, bewildered. "How have they avoided being caught, all this time?"
"Because they were cunning," Harry said grimly. "Cunning beyond anyone's estimation. And because they were in no rush, as long as this was the end result. Because over the last year all our focus has been on The Crow, and on finding a cure for this disease, and that was exactly what they wanted. And as the Muggle world was torn apart and the wizarding world descended into chaos, no one had the time... or energy... or even a real reason... to sit down and work out who could possibly have been biding their time all these years, willing to wait for the rest of their life if it meant their aims succeeded in the end."
He was shaking.
"It's someone we should have suspected long ago. Someone I should have suspected. I don't know how I didn't see it before now."
"Harry-" Tonks's voice gentle, placating, but Harry ploughed ruthlessly on.
"Someone who was right there every day, in prime position to act, but who was overlooked, because no one believed they were healthy or sane enough to even comprehend what was happening."
There was a manic gleam in his eyes as he looked at Remus. "Someone," he hissed, "who was released from prison eight years ago, on medical grounds, diagnosed with third stage Gorsemoor's Syndrome, and whose condition has been slowly worsening in St Mungo's ever since."
Gorsemoor's again... or Dementor's Syndrome, Michael had said it was sometimes called. The awful, crippling malady that rendered its victims as good as walking dead. Hope remembered Professor Izatt telling them about a prisoner winning their release appeal on medical grounds, and Harry had also mentioned it once before, she was sure, but she had never learnt the details, nor that person's name. Her father and Ginny, it seemed, did not need telling. Ginny clapped her hands to her mouth, her face draining of all colour, and Remus's eyes blackened with fury.
"No." The word came out with such ferocity that Hope jumped. She had never heard him sound like that, and her mother squeezed her hand again, reassuring. But there was no wiping the fury from either of their expressions.
Hope held her tongue. Her parents would no doubt explain later. Ginny's face was set, her freckles standing out vividly against the chalk white of her skin.
"How?"
"I will be finding out, believe me," Harry snarled. "But the pieces are starting to slot into place. The Crow - or Orpheus, to give him his real name - is her son."
Ginny went, if possible, even paler. "She had a son?"
"Yes. And enough connections to be able to hide him completely. Born at the peak of the darkest war of all time, who even would have bothered to notice as she took extreme measures to erase all trace of him? He was raised with a single purpose, to turn the theory of a Narcoviral Curse into reality. He continued to work on it after her imprisonment, somehow kept up a secret liaison with her when she was in hospital, and here we are all these years later. With the world on the brink of total devastation. They might have succeeded completely, but he was too arrogant, in the end, and she was too greedy. Made it personal. The curse on Victoire was mainly their undoing, and we had enough Strike Three precautions in place to catch them out."
He fell silent. They all seemed completely lost for words.
"Where are they now?" Remus asked at last. "What will happen to them?"
"The Crow's in custody," Harry said. "He'll be questioned under veritaserum as soon as we can have an official proceeding. I've ordered for him to be treated humanely, though, and Kingsley has backed me on that. I know nothing can excuse what he's done, but he must have been through hell and back over the past forty years, and I can't help but feel sorry for him. What chance did he ever have in life, with her for a mother?"
"So-" Ginny looked sideways at her husband, hardly daring to ask. "What about her?"
Harry did not answer immediately. His right hand, resting on the kitchen table top, was still balled into a fist, and he moved it towards his wife. For a second, Hope thought he was simply reaching out to hold her hand for emotional support. His fist, however, did not uncurl, and Ginny's eyes widened as she stared down at it.
"They've gone," she whispered.
"Yes."
"So she's dead?"
"Oh she's dead," Harry spat, the manic gleam returned to his green eyes. "I made sure of that."
He ran a thumb over the lightly tanned, unblemished skin on the back of his hand. There was no sign, none at all, that just hours ago the hand had been disfigured by ugly scratches. Pearl white scars, a generation old, spelling out the words I must not tell lies.
OOO